Jonathan Swift

The Journal to Stella
LETTER 49.[1]

KENSINGTON, July 1, 1712.

I never was in a worse station for writing letters than this, especially for
writing to MD, since I left off my journals.  For I go to town early; and when
I come home at night, I generally go to Lord Masham, where Lord Treasurer
comes, and we stay till past twelve.  But I am now resolved to write journals
again, though my shoulder is not yet well; for I have still a few itching
pimples, and a little pain now and then.  It is now high cherry-time with us;
take notice, is it so soon with you?  And we have early apricots, and
gooseberries are ripe.  On Sunday Archdeacon Parnell came here to see me.  It
seems he has been ill for grief of his wife's death,[2] and has been two
months at the Bath.  He has a mind to go to Dunkirk with Jack Hill,[3] and I
persuade him to it, and have spoke to Hill to receive him; but I doubt he
won't have spirit to go.  I have made Ford[4] Gazetteer, and got two hundred
pounds a year settled on the employment by the Secretary of State, beside the
perquisites.  It is the prettiest employment in England of its bigness; yet
the puppy does not seem satisfied with it.  I think people keep some follies
to themselves, till they have occasion to produce them.  He thinks it not
genteel enough, and makes twenty difficulties.  'Tis impossible to make any
man easy.  His salary is paid him every week, if he pleases, without taxes or
abatements.  He has little to do for it.  He has a pretty office, with coals,
candles, papers, etc.; can frank what letters he will; and his perquisites, if
he takes care, may be worth one hundred pounds more.  I hear the Bishop of
Clogher is landing, or landed, in England; and I hope to see him in a few
days.  I was to see Mrs. Bradley[5] on Sunday night.  Her youngest son is
married to somebody worth nothing, and her daughter was forced to leave Lady
Giffard, because she was striking up an intrigue with a footman, who played
well upon the flute.  This is the mother's account of it.  Yesterday the old
Bishop of Worcester,[6] who pretends to be a prophet, went to the Queen, by
appointment, to prove to Her Majesty, out of Daniel and the Revelations, that
four years hence there would be a war of religion; that the King of France
would be a Protestant, and fight on their side; that the Popedom would be
destroyed, etc.; and declared that he would be content to give up his
bishopric if it were not true.  Lord Treasurer, who told it me, was by, and
some others; and I am told Lord Treasurer confounded him sadly in his own
learning, which made the old fool very quarrelsome.  He is near ninety years
old.  Old Bradley is fat and lusty, and has lost his palsy.  Have you seen
Toland's Invitation to Dismal?[7]  How do you like it?  But it is an imitation
of Horace, and perhaps you don't understand Horace.  Here has been a great
sweep of employments, and we expect still more removals.  The Court seems
resolved to make thorough work.  Mr. Hill intended to set out to-morrow for
Dunkirk, of which he is appointed Governor; but he tells me to-day that he
cannot go till Thursday or Friday.  I wish it were over.  Mr. Secretary tells
me he is [in] no fear at all that France will play tricks with us.  If we have
Dunkirk once, all is safe.  We rail now all against the Dutch, who, indeed,
have acted like knaves, fools, and madmen.  Mr. Secretary is soon to be made a
viscount.  He desired I would draw the preamble of his patent; but I excused
myself from a work that might lose me a great deal of reputation, and get me
very little.  We would fain have the Court make him an earl, but it would not
be; and therefore he will not take the title of Bullenbrook,[8] which is
lately extinct in the elder branch of his family.  I have advised him to be
called Lord Pomfret; but he thinks that title is already in some other
family;[9] and, besides, he objects that it is in Yorkshire, where he has no
estate; but there is nothing in that, and I love Pomfret.  Don't you love
Pomfret?  Why?  'Tis in all our histories; they are full of Pomfret Castle.
But what's all this to you?  You don't care for this.  Is Goody Stoyte come to
London?  I have not heard of her yet.  The Dean of St. Patrick's never had the
manners to answer my letter.  I was t'other day to see Sterne[10] and his
wife.  She is not half so handsome as when I saw her with you at Dublin.  They
design to pass the summer at a house near Lord Somers's, about a dozen miles
off.  You never told me how my "Letter to Lord Treasurer" passes in Ireland.
I suppose you are drinking at this time Temple-something's[11] waters.  Steele
was arrested the other day for making a lottery directly against an Act of
Parliament.  He is now under prosecution; but they think it will be dropped
out of pity.[12]  I believe he will very soon lose his employment, for he has
been mighty impertinent of late in his Spectators; and I will never offer a
word in his behalf.  Raymond writes me word that the Bishop of Meath[13] was
going to summon me, in order to suspension, for absence, if the Provost had
not prevented him.  I am prettily rewarded for getting them their First-
Fruits, with a p--.  We have had very little hot weather during the whole
month of June; and for a week past we have had a great deal of rain, though
not every day.  I am just now told that the Governor of Dunkirk has not orders
yet to deliver up the town to Jack Hill and his forces, but expects them
daily.  This must put off Hill's journey a while, and I don't like these
stoppings in such an affair.  Go, get oo gone, and drink oo waters, if this
rain has not spoiled them, sauci doxi.  I have no more to say to oo at
plesent; but rove Pdfr, and MD, and ME.  And Podefr will rove Pdfr, and MD and
ME.  I wish you had taken any account when I sent money to Mrs. Brent.  I
believe I han't done it a great while.  And pray send me notice when ME . . .
to have it when it is due.[14]  Farewell, dearest MD FW FW FW ME ME ME.



LETTER 50.[1]

KENSINGTON, July 17, 1712.

I am weary of living in this place, and glad to leave it soon.  The Queen goes
on Tuesday to Windsor, and I shall follow in three or four days after.  I can
do nothing here, going early to London, and coming late from it, and supping
at Lady Masham's.  I dined to-day with the Duke of Argyle at Cue [Kew], and
would not go to the Court to-night, because of writing to MD.  The Bishop of
Clogher has been here this fortnight:  I see him as often as I can.  Poor
Master Ashe has a sad redness in his face; it is St. Anthony's fire; his face
all swelled, and will break in his cheek, but no danger.  Since Dunkirk has
been in our hands, Grub Street has been very fruitful.  Pdfr has writ five or
six Grub Street papers this last week.  Have you seen Toland's Invitation to
Dismal, or Hue and Cry after Dismal, or Ballad on Dunkirk, or Argument that
Dunkirk is not in our Hands?  Poh! you have seen nothing.  I am dead here with
the hot weather; yet I walk every night home, and believe it does me good:
but my shoulder is not yet right; itchings, and scratchings, and small
achings.  Did I tell you I had made Ford Gazetteer, with two hundred pounds a
year salary, beside perquisites?  I had a letter lately from Parvisol, who
says my canal looks very finely; I long to see it; but no apples; all blasted
again.  He tells me there will be a triennial visitation in August.  I must
send Raymond another proxy.  So now I will answer oo rettle N.33,[2] dated
June 17.  Ppt writes as well as ever, for all her waters.  I wish I had never
come here, as often and as heartily as Ppt.  What had I to do here?  I have
heard of the Bishop's making me uneasy, but I did not think it was because I
never writ to him.  A little would make me write to him, but I don't know what
to say.  I find I am obliged to the Provost for keeping the Bishop[3] from
being impertinent.  Yes, Maram DD, but oo would not be content with letters
flom Pdfr of six lines, or twelve either, fais.  I hope Ppt will have done
with the waters soon, and find benefit by them.  I believe, if they were as
far off as Wexford, they would do as much good; for I take the journey to
contribute as much as anything.  I can assure you the Bishop of Clogher's
being here does not in the least affect my staying or going.  I never talked
to Higgins but once in my life in the street, and I believe he and I shall
hardly meet but by chance.  What care I whether my Letter to Lord Treasurer be
commended there or no?  Why does not somebody among you answer it, as three or
four have done here?  (I am now sitting with nothing but my nightgown, for
heat.)  Ppt shall have a great Bible.  I have put it down in my memlandums[4]
just now.  And DD shall be repaid her t'other book; but patience, all in good
time:  you are so hasty, a dog would, etc.  So Ppt has neither won nor lost.
Why, mun, I play sometimes too at picket, that is picquet, I mean; but very
seldom.--Out late? why, 'tis only at Lady Masham's, and that is in our town;
but I never come late here from London, except once in rain, when I could not
get a coach.  We have had very little thunder here; none these two months.
Why, pray, madam philosopher, how did the rain hinder the thunder from doing
any harm?  I suppose it ssquenched it.  So here comes Ppt aden[5] with her
little watery postscript.  O Rold, dlunken srut![6] drink Pdfr's health ten
times in a morning! you are a whetter, fais; I sup MD's fifteen times evly
molning in milk porridge.  Lele's fol oo now--and lele's fol oo rettle, and
evly kind of sing[7]--and now I must say something else.  You hear Secretary
St. John is made Viscount Bullinbrook.[8]  I can hardly persuade him to take
that title, because the eldest branch of his family had it in an earldom, and
it was last year extinct.  If he did not take it, I advised him to be Lord
Pomfret, which I think is a noble title.  You hear of it often in the
Chronicles, Pomfret Castle:  but we believed it was among the titles of some
other lord.  Jack Hill sent his sister a pattern of a head-dress from Dunkirk;
it was like our fashion twenty years ago, only not quite so high, and looked
very ugly.  I have made Trapp[9] chaplain to Lord Bullinbroke, and he is
mighty happy and thankful for it.  Mr. Addison returned me my visit this
morning.  He lives in our town.  I shall be mighty retired, and mighty busy
for a while at Windsor.  Pray why don't MD go to Trim, and see Laracor, and
give me an account of the garden, and the river, and the holly and the cherry-
trees on the river-walk?

19.  I could not send this letter last post, being called away before I could
fold or finish it.  I dined yesterday with Lord Treasurer; sat with him till
ten at night; yet could not find a minute for some business I had with him.
He brought me to Kensington, and Lord Bulingbrook would not let me go away
till two; and I am now in bed, very lazy and sleepy at nine.  I must shave
head and face, and meet Lord Bullinbrook at eleven, and dine again with Lord
Treasurer.  To-day there will be another Grub,[10] A Letter from the Pretender
to a Whig Lord.  Grub Street has but ten days to live; then an Act of
Parliament takes place that ruins it, by taxing every half-sheet at a
halfpenny.  We have news just come, but not the particulars, that the Earl of
Albemarle,[11] at the head of eight thousand Dutch, is beaten, lost the
greatest part of his men, and himself a prisoner.  This perhaps may cool their
courage, and make them think of a peace.  The Duke of Ormond has got abundance
of credit by his good conduct of affairs in Flanders.  We had a good deal of
rain last night, very refreshing.  'Tis late, and I must rise.  Don't play at
ombre in your waters, sollah.  Farewell, deelest MD, MD MD MD FW FW ME ME ME
Lele Lele Lele.



LETTER 51.[1]

LONDON, Aug. 7, 1712.

I had your N.32 at Windsor:  I just read it, and immediately sealed it up
again, and shall read it no more this twelvemonth at least.  The reason of my
resentment at it is, because you talk as glibly of a thing as if it were done,
which, for aught I know, is farther from being done than ever, since I hear
not a word of it, though the town is full of it, and the Court always giving
me joy and vexation.  You might be sure I would have let you know as soon as
it was done; but I believe you fancied I would affect not to tell it you, but
let you learn it from newspapers and reports.  I remember only there was
something in your letter about ME's money, and that shall be taken care of on
the other side.  I left Windsor on Monday last, upon Lord Bolingbroke's being
gone to France, and somebody's being here that I ought often to consult with
in an affair I am upon:  but that person talks of returning to Windsor again,
and I believe I shall follow him.  I am now in a hedge-lodging very busy, as I
am every day till noon:  so that this letter is like to be short, and you are
not to blame me these two months; for I protest, if I study ever so hard, I
cannot in that time compass what I am upon.  We have a fever both here and at
Windsor, which hardly anybody misses; but it lasts not above three or four
days, and kills nobody.[2]  The Queen has forty servants down of it at once.
I dined yesterday with Treasurer, but could do no business, though he sent for
me, I thought, on purpose; but he desires I will dine with him again to-day.
Windsor is a most delightful place, and at this time abounds in dinners.  My
lodgings there look upon Eton and the Thames.  I wish I was owner of them;
they belong to a prebend.  God knows what was in your letter; and if it be not
answered, whose fault is it, sauci dallars?--Do you know that Grub Street is
dead and gone last week?  No more ghosts or murders now for love or money.  I
plied it pretty close the last fortnight, and published at least seven penny
papers of my own, besides some of other people's:  but now every single half-
sheet pays a halfpenny to the Queen.[3]  The Observator is fallen; the Medleys
are jumbled together with the Flying Post; the Examiner is deadly sick; the
Spectator keeps up, and doubles its price; I know not how long it will hold.
Have you seen the red stamp the papers are marked with?  Methinks it is worth
a halfpenny, the stamping it.  Lord Bolingbroke and Prior set out for France
last Saturday.  My lord's business is to hasten the peace before the Dutch are
too much mauled, and hinder France from carrying the jest of beating them too
far.  Have you seen the Fourth Part of John Bull?[4]  It is equal to the rest,
and extremely good.  The Bishop of Clogher's son has been ill of St. Anthony's
fire, but is now quite well.  I was afraid his face would be spoiled, but it
is not.  Dilly is just as he used to be, and puns as plentifully and as bad.
The two brothers see one another; but I think not the two sisters.  Raymond
writ to me that he intended to invite you to Trim.  Are you, have you, will
you be there?  Won't oo see pool Laratol?[5]  Parvisol says I shall have no
fruit.  Blasts have taken away all.  Pray observe the cherry-trees on the
river-walk; but oo are too lazy to take such a journey.  If you have not your
letters in due time for two months hence, impute it to my being tosticated
between this and Windsor.  And pray send me again the state of ME's money; for
I will not look into your letter for it.  Poor Lord Winchelsea[6] is dead, to
my great grief.  He was a worthy honest gentleman, and particular friend of
mine:  and, what is yet worse, my old acquaintance, Mrs. Finch,[7] is now
Countess of Winchelsea, the title being fallen to her husband, but without
much estate.  I have been poring my eyes all this morning, and it is now past
two afternoon, so I shall take a little walk in the Park.  Do you play at
ombre still?  Or is that off by Mr. Stoyte's absence, and Mrs. Manley's grief?
Somebody was telling me of a strange sister that Mrs. Manley has got in
Ireland, who disappointed you all about her being handsome.  My service to
Mrs. Walls.  Farewell, deelest MD MD MD, FW FW FW, ME ME ME ME ME.  Lele,
logues both; rove poo Pdfr.



LETTER 52.[1]

WINDSOR, Sept. 15, 1712.

I never was so long without writing to MD as now, since I left them, nor ever
will again while I am able to write.  I have expected from one week to another
that something would be done in my own affairs; but nothing at all is, nor I
don't know when anything will, or whether ever at all, so slow are people at
doing favours.  I have been much out of order of late with the old giddiness
in my head.  I took a vomit for it two days ago, and will take another about a
day or two hence.  I have eat mighty little fruit; yet I impute my disorder to
that little, and shall henceforth wholly forbear it.  I am engaged in a long
work, and have done all I can of it, and wait for some papers from the
Ministry for materials for the rest; and they delay me, as if it were a favour
I asked of them; so that I have been idle here this good while, and it
happened in a right time, when I was too much out of order to study.  One is
kept constantly out of humour by a thousand unaccountable things in public
proceedings; and when I reason with some friends, we cannot conceive how
affairs can last as they are.  God only knows, but it is a very melancholy
subject for those who have any near concern in it.  I am again endeavouring,
as I was last year, to keep people[2] from breaking to pieces upon a hundred
misunderstandings.  One cannot withhold them from drawing different ways,
while the enemy is watching to destroy both.  See how my style is altered, by
living and thinking and talking among these people, instead of my canal and
river-walk and willows.  I lose all my money here among the ladies;[3] so that
I never play when I can help it, being sure to lose.  I have lost five pounds
the five weeks I have been here.  I hope Ppt is luckier at picquet with the
Dean and Mrs. Walls.  The Dean never answered my letter, though.  I have
clearly forgot whether I sent a bill for ME in any of my last letters.  I
think I did; pray let me know, and always give me timely notice.  I wait here
but to see what they will do for me; and whenever preferments are given from
me, as hope saved, I will come over.

18.  I have taken a vomit to-day, and hope I shall be better.  I have been
very giddy since I writ what is before, yet not as I used to be:  more
frequent, but not so violent.  Yesterday we were alarmed with the Queen's
being ill:  she had an aguish and feverish fit; and you never saw such
countenances as we all had, such dismal melancholy.  Her physicians from town
were sent for, but towards night she grew better; to-day she missed her fit,
and was up:  we are not now in any fear; it will be at worst but an ague, and
we hope even that will not return.  Lord Treasurer would not come here from
London, because it would make a noise if he came before his usual time, which
is Saturday, and he goes away on Mondays.  The Whigs have lost a great support
in the Earl of Godolphin.[4]  It is a good jest to hear the Ministers talk of
him now with humanity and pity, because he is dead, and can do them no more
hurt.  Lady Orkney,[5] the late King's mistress (who lives at a fine place,
five miles from hence, called Cliffden[6]), and I, are grown mighty
acquaintance.  She is the wisest woman I ever saw; and Lord Treasurer made
great use of her advice in the late change of affairs.  I heard Lord
Marlborough is growing ill of his diabetes; which, if it be true, may soon
carry him off; and then the Ministry will be something more at ease.  MD has
been a long time without writing to Pdfr, though they have not the same cause:
it is seven weeks since your last came to my hands, which was N.32, that you
may not be mistaken.  I hope Ppt has not wanted her health.  You were then
drinking waters.  The doctor tells me I must go into a course of steel, though
I have not the spleen; for that they can never give me, though I have as much
provocation to it as any man alive.  Bernage's[7] regiment is broke; but he is
upon half-pay.  I have not seen him this long time; but I suppose he is
overrun with melancholy.  My Lord Shrewsbury is certainly designed to be
Governor of Ireland; and I believe the Duchess will please the people there
mightily.  The Irish Whig leaders promise great things to themselves from his
government; but care shall be taken, if possible, to prevent them.  Mrs.
Fenton[8] has writ to me that she has been forced to leave Lady Giffard, and
come to town, for a rheumatism:  that lady does not love to be troubled with
sick people.  Mrs. Fenton writes to me as one dying, and desires I would think
of her son:  I have not answered her letter.  She is retired[9] to Mrs.
Povey's.  Is my aunt alive yet? and do you ever see her?  I suppose she has
forgot the loss of her son.  Is Raymond's new house quite finished? and does
he squander as he used to do?  Has he yet spent all his wife's fortune?  I
hear there are five or six people putting strongly in for my livings; God help
them!  But if ever the Court should give me anything, I would recommend
Raymond to the Duke of Ormond; not for any particular friendship to him, but
because it would be proper for the minister of Trim to have Laracor.  You may
keep the gold-studded snuff-box now; for my brother Hill, Governor of Dunkirk,
has sent me the finest that ever you saw.[10]  It is allowed at Court that
none in England comes near it, though it did not cost above twenty pounds.
And the Duchess of Hamilton has made me pockets for [it] like a woman's, with
a belt and buckle (for, you know, I wear no waistcoat in summer), and there
are several divisions, and one on purpose for my box, oh ho!--We have had most
delightful weather this whole week; but illness and vomiting have hindered me
from sharing in a great part of it.  Lady Masham made the Queen send to
Kensington for some of her preserved ginger for me, which I take in the
morning, and hope it will do me good.  Mrs. Brent[11] sent me a letter by a
young fellow, a printer, desiring I would recommend him here, which you may
tell her I have done:  but I cannot promise what will come of it, for it is
necessary they should be made free here[12] before they can be employed.  I
remember I put the boy prentice to Brent.  I hope Parvisol has set my tithes
well this year:  he has writ nothing to me about it; pray talk to him of it
when you see him, and let him give me an account how things are.  I suppose
the corn is now off the ground.  I hope he has sold that great ugly horse.
Why don't you sell to him?  He keeps me at charges for horses that I never
ride:  yours is lame, and will never be good for anything.  The Queen will
stay here about a month longer, I suppose; but Lady Masham will go in ten days
to lie in at Kensington.  Poor creature, she fell down in the court here
t'other day.  She would needs walk across it upon some displeasure with her
chairmen, and was likely to be spoiled so near her time; but we hope all is
over for a black eye and a sore side:  though I shall not be at ease till she
is brought to bed.  I find I can fill up a letter, some way or other, without
a journal.  If I had not a spirit naturally cheerful, I should be very much
discontented at a thousand things.  Pray God preserve MD's health, and Pdfr's,
and that I may live far from the envy and discontent that attends those who
are thought to have more favour at Courts than they really possess.  Love
Pdfr, who loves MD above all things.  Farewell, deelest, ten thousand times
deelest, MD MD MD, FW FW, ME ME ME ME.  Lele, Lele, Lele, Lele.



LETTER 53.[1]

LONDON, Oct. 9, 1712.

I have left Windsor these ten days, and am deep in pills with asafoetida, and
a steel bitter drink; and I find my head much better than it was.  I was very
much discouraged; for I used to be ill for three or four days together, ready
to totter as I walked.  I take eight pills a day, and have taken, I believe, a
hundred and fifty already.  The Queen, Lord Treasurer, Lady Masham, and I,
were all ill together, but are now all better; only Lady Masham expects every
day to lie in at Kensington.  There was never such a lump of lies spread about
the town together as now.  I doubt not but you will have them in Dublin before
this comes to you, and all without the least grounds of truth.  I have been
mightily put backward in something I am writing by my illness, but hope to
fetch it up, so as to be ready when the Parliament meets.  Lord Treasurer has
had an ugly fit of the rheumatism, but is now near quite well.  I was playing
at one-and-thirty with him and his family t'other night.  He gave us all
twelvepence apiece to begin with:  it put me in mind of Sir William Temple.[2]
I asked both him and Lady Masham seriously whether the Queen were at all
inclined to a dropsy, and they positively assured me she was not:  so did her
physician Arbuthnot, who always attends her.  Yet these devils have spread
that she has holes in her legs, and runs at her navel, and I know not what.
Arbuthnot has sent me from Windsor a pretty Discourse upon Lying, and I have
ordered the printer to come for it.  It is a proposal for publishing a curious
piece, called The Art of Political Lying, in two volumes, etc.  And then there
is an abstract of the first volume, just like those pamphlets which they call
The Works of the Learned.[3]  Pray get it when it comes out.  The Queen has a
little of the gout in one of her hands.  I believe she will stay a month still
at Windsor.  Lord Treasurer showed me the kindest letter from her in the
world, by which I picked out one secret, that there will be soon made some
Knights of the Garter.  You know another is fallen by Lord Godolphin's death:
he will be buried in a day or two at Westminster Abbey.  I saw Tom Leigh[4] in
town once.  The Bishop of Clogher has taken his lodging for the winter; they
are all well.  I hear there are in town abundance of people from Ireland; half
a dozen bishops at least. The poor old Bishop of London,[5] at past fourscore,
fell down backward going upstairs, and I think broke or cracked his skull; yet
is now recovering.  The town is as empty as at midsummer; and if I had not
occasion for physic, I would be at Windsor still.  Did I tell you of Lord
Rivers's will?  He has left legacies to about twenty paltry old whores by
name, and not a farthing to any friend, dependent, or relation:  he has left
from his only child, Lady Barrymore,[6] her mother's estate, and given the
whole to his heir-male, a popish priest, a second cousin, who is now Earl
Rivers, and whom he used in his life like a footman.  After him it goes to his
chief wench and bastard.  Lord Treasurer and Lord Chamberlain are executors of
this hopeful will.  I loved the man, and detest his memory.  We hear nothing
of peace yet:  I believe verily the Dutch are so wilful, because they are told
the Queen cannot live.  I had poor MD's letter, N.3,[7] at Windsor:  but I
could not answer it then; poor Pdfr was vely kick[8] then:  and, besides, it
was a very inconvenient place to send letters from.  Oo thought to come home
the same day, and stayed a month:  that was a sign the place was agreeable.[9]
I should love such a sort of jaunt.  Is that lad Swanton[10] a little more
fixed than he used to be?  I think you like the girl very well.  She has left
off her grave airs, I suppose.  I am now told Lord Godolphin was buried last
night.--O poo Ppt! lay down oo head aden, fais I. . . ; I always reckon if oo
are ill I shall hear it, and therefore hen oo are silent I reckon all is
well.[11]  I believe I 'scaped the new fever[12] for the same reason that Ppt
did, because I am not well; but why should DD 'scape it, pray?  She is
melthigal, oo know, and ought to have the fever; but I hope it is now too
late, and she won't have it at all.  Some physicians here talk very
melancholy, and think it foreruns the plague, which is actually at Hamburg.  I
hoped Ppt would have done with her illness; but I think we both have that
faculty never to part with a disorder for ever; we are very constant.  I have
had my giddiness twenty-three years by fits.  Will Mrs. Raymond never have
done lying-in?  He intends to leave beggars enough; for I daresay he has
squandered away the best part of his fortune already, and is not out of debt.
I had a letter from him lately.

Oct. 11.  Lord Treasurer sent for me yesterday and the day before to sit with
him, because he is not yet quite well enough to go abroad; and I could not
finish my letter.  How the deuce come I to be so exact in ME money?  Just
seventeen shillings and eightpence more than due; I believe you cheat me.  If
Hawkshaw does not pay the interest I will have the principal; pray speak to
Parvisol and have his advice what I should do about it.  Service to Mrs.
Stoyte and Catherine and Mrs. Walls.  Ppt makes a petition with many
apologies.  John Danvers, you know, is Lady Giffard's friend.  The rest I
never heard of.  I tell you what, as things are at present, I cannot possibly
speak to Lord Treasurer for anybody.  I need tell you no more.  Something or
nothing will be done in my own affairs:  if the former, I will be a solicitor
for your sister;[13] if the latter, I have done with Courts for ever.
Opportunities will often fall in my way, if I am used well, and I will then
make it my business.  It is my delight to do good offices for people who want
and deserve, and a tenfold delight to do it to a relation of Ppt, whose
affairs she has so at heart.[14]  I have taken down his name and his case (not
HER case), and whenever a proper time comes, I will do all I can; zat's enough
to say when I can do no more; and I beg oo pardon a sousand times,[15] that I
cannot do better.  I hope the Dean of St. P[atrick's] is well of his fever:
he has never writ to me:  I am glad of it; pray don't desire him to write.  I
have dated your bill late, because it must not commence, ung oomens, till the
first of November[16] next.  O, fais, I must be ise;[17] iss, fais, must I;
else ME will cheat Pdfr.  Are you good housewives and readers?  Are you
walkers?  I know you are gamesters.  Are you drinkers?  Are you--  O Rold, I
must go no further, for fear of abusing fine radies.[18]  Parvisol has never
sent me one word how he set this year's tithes.  Pray ask whether tithes set
well or ill this year.  The Bishop of Killaloe[19] tells me wool bears a good
rate in Ireland:  but how is corn?  I dined yesterday with Lady Orkney, and we
sat alone from two till eleven at night.--You have heard of her, I suppose.  I
have twenty letters upon my hands, and am so lazy and so busy, I cannot answer
them, and they grow upon me for several months.  Have I any apples at Laracor?
It is strange every year should blast them, when I took so much care for
shelter.  Lord Bolingbroke has been idle at his country-house this fortnight,
which puts me backward in a business I have.  I am got into an ordinary room
two pair of stairs, and see nobody, if I can help it; yet some puppies have
found me out, and my man is not such an artist as Patrick at denying me.
Patrick has been soliciting to come to me again, but in vain.  The printer has
been here with some of the new whims printed, and has taken up my time.  I am
just going out, and can only bid oo farewell.  Farewell, deelest ickle MD, MD
MD MD FW FW FW FW ME ME ME ME.  Lele deel ME.  Lele lele lele sollahs
bose.[20]



LETTER 54.[1]

LONDON, Oct. 28, 1712.

I have been in physic this month, and have been better these three weeks.  I
stop my physic, by the doctor's orders, till he sends me further directions.
DD grows politician, and longs to hear the peace is proclaimed.  I hope we
shall have it soon, for the Dutch are fully humbled; and Prior is just come
over from France for a few days; I suppose upon some important affair.  I saw
him last night, but had no private talk with him.  Stocks rise upon his
coming.  As for my stay in England, it cannot be long now, so tell my friends.
The Parliament will not meet till after Christmas, and by that time the work I
am doing will be over, and then nothing shall keep me.  I am very much
discontented at Parvisol, about neglecting to sell my horses, etc.

Lady Masham is not yet brought to bed; but we expect it daily.  I dined with
her to-day.  Lord Bolingbroke returned about two months ago, and Prior about a
week; and goes back (Prior I mean) in a few days.  Who told you of my snuff-
box and pocket?  Did I?  I had a letter to-day from Dr. Coghill,[2] desiring
me to get Raphoe for Dean Sterne, and the deanery for myself.  I shall indeed,
I have such obligations to Sterne.  But however, if I am asked who will make a
good bishop, I shall name him before anybody.  Then comes another letter,
desiring I would recommend a Provost,[3] supposing that Pratt (who has been
here about a week) will certainly be promoted; but I believe he will not.  I
presented Pratt to Lord Treasurer, and truly young Molyneux[4] would have had
me present him too; but I directly answered him I would not, unless he had
business with him.  He is the son of one Mr. Molyneux of Ireland.  His father
wrote a book;[5] I suppose you know it.  Here is the Duke of Marlborough going
out of England (Lord knows why), which causes many speculations.  Some say he
is conscious of guilt, and dare not stand it.  Others think he has a mind to
fling an odium on the Government, as who should say that one who has done such
great services to his country cannot live quietly in it, by reason of the
malice of his enemies.  I have helped to patch up these people[6] together
once more.  God knows how long it may last. I was to-day at a trial between
Lord Lansdowne and Lord Carteret, two friends of mine.  It was in the Queen's
Bench, for about six thousand a year (or nine, I think).  I sat under Lord
Chief-Justice Parker, and his pen falling down I reached it up.  He made me a
low bow; and I was going to whisper him that I HAD DONE GOOD FOR EVIL; FOR HE
WOULD HAVE TAKEN MINE FROM ME.[7]  I told it Lord Treasurer and Bolingbroke.
Parker would not have known me, if several lords on the bench, and in the
court, bowing, had not turned everybody's eyes, and set them a whispering.  I
owe the dog a spite, and will pay him in two months at furthest, if I can.  So
much for that.  But you must have chat, and I must say every sorry thing that
comes into my head.  They say the Queen will stay a month longer at Windsor.
These devils of Grub Street rogues, that write the Flying Post and Medley in
one paper,[8] will not be quiet.  They are always mauling Lord Treasurer, Lord
Bolingbroke, and me.  We have the dog under prosecution, but Bolingbroke is
not active enough; but I hope to swinge him.  He is a Scotch rogue, one
Ridpath.[9]  They get out upon bail, and write on.  We take them again, and
get fresh bail; so it goes round.  They say some learned Dutchman has wrote a
book, proving by civil law that we do them wrong by this peace; but I shall
show by plain reason that we have suffered the wrong, and not they.  I toil
like a horse, and have hundreds of letters still to read and squeeze a line
out of each, or at least the seeds of a line.  Strafford goes back to Holland
in a day or two, and I hope our peace is very near.  I have about thirty pages
more to write (that is, to be extracted), which will be sixty in print.  It is
the most troublesome part of all, and I cannot keep myself private, though I
stole into a room up two pair of stairs, when I came from Windsor; but my
present man has not yet learned his lesson of denying me discreetly.

30.  The Duchess of Ormond found me out to-day, and made me dine with her.
Lady Masham is still expecting.  She has had a cruel cold.  I could not finish
my letter last post for the soul of me.  Lord Bolingbroke has had my papers
these six weeks, and done nothing to them.  Is Tisdall yet in the world?  I
propose writing controversies, to get a name with posterity.  The Duke of
Ormond will not be over these three or four days.  I desire to make him join
with me in settling all right among our people.  I have ordered the Duchess to
let me have an hour with the Duke at his first coming, to give him a true
state of persons and things.  I believe the Duke of Shrewsbury will hardly be
declared your Governor yet; at least, I think so now; but resolutions alter
very often.  The Duke of Hamilton gave me a pound of snuff to-day, admirable
good.  I wish DD had it, and Ppt too, if she likes it.  It cost me a quarter
of an hour
of his politics, which I was forced to hear.  Lady Orkney[10] is making me a
writing-table of her own contrivance, and a bed nightgown.  She is perfectly
kind, like a mother.  I think the devil was in it the other day, that I should
talk to her of an ugly squinting cousin of hers, and the poor lady herself,
you know, squints like a dragon.  The other day we had a long discourse with
her about love; and she told us a saying of her sister Fitz-Hardinge,[11]
which I thought excellent, that in men, desire begets love, and in women, love
begets desire.  We have abundance of our old criers[12] still hereabouts.  I
hear every morning your women with the old satin and taffeta, etc., the fellow
with old coats, suits or cloaks.  Our weather is abominable of late.  We have
not two tolerable days in twenty.  I have lost money again at ombre, with Lord
Orkney and others; yet, after all, this year I have lost but three-and-twenty
shillings; so that, considering card money, I am no loser.

Our Society hath not yet renewed their meetings.  I hope we shall continue to
do some good this winter; and Lord Treasurer promises the Academy for
reforming our language shall soon go forward.  I must now go hunt those dry
letter  for materials.  You will see something very notable, I hope.  So much
for that.  God Almighty bless you.



LETTER 55.[1]

LONDON, Nov. 15, 1712.

Before this comes to your hands, you will have heard of the most terrible
accident that hath almost ever happened.  This morning, at eight, my man
brought me word that the Duke of Hamilton had fought with Lord Mohun,[2] and
killed him, and was brought home wounded.[3]  I immediately sent him to the
Duke's house, in St. James's Square; but the porter could hardly answer for
tears, and a great rabble was about the house.  In short, they fought at seven
this morning.  The dog Mohun was killed on the spot; and while[4] the Duke was
over him, Mohun, shortening his sword, stabbed him in at the shoulder to the
heart.  The Duke was helped toward the cake-house by the Ring in Hyde Park
(where they fought), and died on the grass, before he could reach the house;
and was brought home in his coach by eight, while the poor Duchess[5] was
asleep.  Maccartney,[6] and one Hamilton,[7] were the seconds, who fought
likewise, and are both fled.  I am told that a footman of Lord Mohun's stabbed
the Duke of Hamilton; and some say Maccartney did so too.  Mohun gave the
affront, and yet sent the challenge.  I am infinitely concerned for the poor
Duke, who was a frank, honest, good-natured man.  I loved him very well, and I
think he loved me better.  He had[8] the greatest mind in the world to have me
go with him to France, but durst not tell it me; and those he did, said I
could not be spared, which was true.  They have removed the poor Duchess to a
lodging in the neighbourhood, where I have been with her two hours, and am
just come away.  I never saw so melancholy a scene; for indeed all reasons for
real grief belong to her; nor is it possible for anybody to be a greater loser
in all regards.  She has moved my very soul.  The lodging was inconvenient,
and they would have removed her to another; but I would not suffer it, because
it had no room backward, and she must have been tortured with the noise of the
Grub Street screamers mention[ing] her husband's murder to her ears.

I believe you have heard the story of my escape, in opening the bandbox sent
to Lord Treasurer.[9]  The prints have told a thousand lies of it; but at last
we gave them a true account of it at length, printed in the evening;[10] only
I would not suffer them to name me, having been so often named before, and
teased to death with questions.  I wonder how I came to have so much presence
of mind, which is usually not my talent; but so it pleased God, and I saved
myself and him; for there was a bullet apiece.  A gentleman told me that if I
had been killed, the Whigs would have called it a judgment, because the
barrels were of inkhorns, with which I had done them so much mischief.  There
was a pure Grub Street of it, full of lies and inconsistencies.[11]  I do not
like these things at all, and I wish myself more and more among my
willows.[12]  There is a devilish spirit among people, and the Ministry must
exert themselves, or sink.  Nite dee sollahs, I'll go seep.[13]

16.  I thought to have finished this yesterday; but was too much disturbed.  I
sent a letter early this morning to Lady Masham, to beg her to write some
comforting words to the poor Duchess.  I dined to-[day] with Lady Masham at
Kensington, where she is expecting these two months to lie in.  She has
promised me to get the Queen to write to the Duchess kindly on this occasion;
and to-morrow I will beg Lord Treasurer to visit and comfort her.  I have been
with her two hours again, and find her worse:  her violences not so frequent,
but her melancholy more formal and settled.  She has abundance of wit and
spirit; about thirty-three years old; handsome and airy, and seldom spared
anybody that gave her the least provocation; by which she had many enemies and
few friends.  Lady Orkney, her sister-in-law, is come to town on this
occasion, and has been to see her, and behaved herself with great humanity.
They have been always very ill together, and the poor Duchess could not have
patience when people told her I went often to Lady Orkney's.  But I am
resolved to make them friends; for the Duchess is now no more the object of
envy, and must learn humility from the severest master, Affliction.  I design
to make the Ministry put out a proclamation (if it can be found proper)
against that villain Maccartney.  What shall we do with these murderers?  I
cannot end this letter to-night, and there is no occasion; for I cannot send
it till Tuesday, and the crowner's inquest on the Duke's body is to be to-
morrow, and I shall know more.  But what care oo for all this?  Iss, poo MD im
sorry for poo Pdfr's[14] friends; and this is a very surprising event.  'Tis
late, and I'll go to bed.  This looks like journals.  Nite.

17.  I was to-day at noon with the Duchess of Hamilton again, after I had been
with Lady Orkney, and charged her to be kind to her sister in her affliction.
The Duchess told me Lady Orkney had been with her, and that she did not treat
her as gently as she ought.  They hate one another, but I will try to patch it
up.  I have been drawing up a paragraph for the Postboy, to be out to-morrow,
and as malicious as possible, and very proper for Abel Roper,[15] the printer
of it.  I dined at Lord Treasurer's at six in the evening, which is his usual
hour of returning from Windsor:  he promises to visit the Duchess to-morrow,
and says he has a message to her from the Queen.  Thank God.  I have stayed
till past one with him.  So nite deelest MD.[16]

18.  The Committee of Council is to sit this afternoon upon the affair of the
Duke of Hamilton's murder, and I hope a proclamation will be out against
Maccartney.  I was just now ('tis now noon) with the Duchess, to let her know
Lord Treasurer will see her.  She is mightily out of order.  The jury have not
yet brought in their verdict upon the crowner's inquest. We suspect Maccartney
stabbed the Duke while he was fighting.  The Queen and Lord Treasurer are in
great concern at this event.  I dine to-day again with Lord Treasurer; but
must send this to the post-office before, because else I shall not have time;
he usually keeping me so late.  Ben Tooke bid me write to DD to send her
certificate, for it is high time it should be sent, he says.  Pray make
Parvisol write to me, and send me a general account of my affairs; and let him
know I shall be over in spring, and that by all means he sells the horses.
Prior has kissed the Queen's hand, and will return to France in a few days,
and Lord Strafford to Holland; and now the King of Spain has renounced his
pretensions to France, the peace must follow very soon unavoidably.  You must
no more call Philip, Duke of Anjou, for we now acknowledge him King of Spain.
Dr. Pratt tells me you are all mad in Ireland with your playhouse frolics and
prologues, and I know not what.  The Bishop of Clogher and family are well:
they have heard from you, or you from them, lately, I have forgot which:  I
dined there t'other day, but the Bishop came not till after dinner; and our
meat and drink was very so so.  Mr. Vedeau[17] was with me yesterday, and
inquired after you.  He was a lieutenant, and is now broke, and upon half-pay.
He asked me nothing for himself; but wanted an employment for a friend, who
would give a handsome pair of gloves.  One Hales sent me up a letter t'other
day, which said you lodged in his house, and therefore desired I would get him
a civil employment.  I would not be within, and have directed my man to give
him an answer, that I never open letters brought me by the writers, etc.  I
was complaining to a lady that I wanted to mend an employment from forty to
sixty pounds a year, in the Salt Office, and thought it hard I could not do
it.  She told me one Mr. Griffin[18] should do it.  And afterward I met
Griffin at her lodgings; and he was, as I found, one I had been acquainted
with.  I named Filby[19] to him, and his abode somewhere near Nantwich.  He
said frankly he had formerly examined the man, and found he understood very
little of his business; but if he heard he mended, he would do what I desired.
I will let it rest a while, and then resume it; and if Ppt writes to Filby,
she may advise him to diligence, etc.  I told Griffin positively I would have
it done, if the man mended.  This is an account of poo Ppt's commission to her
most humble servant Pdfr.  I have a world of writing to finish, and little
time; these toads of Ministers are so slow in their helps.  This makes me
sometimes steal a week from the exactness I used to write to MD.  Farewell,
dee logues, deelest MD MD MD,. . .  FW FW FW ME ME ME Lele.

Smoke the folding of my letters of late.[20]



LETTER 56.[1]

LONDON, Dec. 12, 1712.

Here is now a stlange ting; a rettle flom MD unanswered:  never was before.  I
am slower, and MD is faster:  but the last was owing to DD's certificate.  Why
could it not be sent before, pay now?  Is it so hard for DD to prove she is
alive?  I protest solemnly I am not able to write to MD for other business,
but I will resume my journal method next time.  I find it is easier, though it
contains nothing but where I dine, and the occurrences of the day.  I will
write now but once in three weeks till this business is off my hands, which
must be in six, I think, at farthest. O Ppt, I remember your reprimanding me
for meddling in other people's affairs:  I have enough of it now, with a
wanion.[2]  Two women have been here six times apiece; I never saw them yet.
The first I have despatched with a letter; the other I must see, and tell her
I can do nothing for her:  she is wife of one Connor,[3] an old college
acquaintance, and comes on a foolish errand, for some old pretensions, that
will succeed when I am Lord Treasurer.  I am got [up] two pair of stairs, in a
private lodging, and have ordered all my friends not to discover where I am;
yet every morning two or three sots are plaguing me, and my present servant
has not yet his lesson perfect of denying me.  I have written a hundred and
thirty pages in folio, to be printed, and must write thirty more, which will
make a large book of four shillings.[4]  I wish I knew an opportunity of
sending you some snuff.  I will watch who goes to Ireland, and do it if
possible.  I had a letter from Parvisol, and find he has set my livings very
low.  Colonel Hamilton, who was second to the Duke of Hamilton, is tried to-
day.  I suppose he is come off, but have not heard.[5]  I dined with Lord
Treasurer, but left him by nine, and visited some people.  Lady Betty,[6]
his[7] daughter, will be married on Monday next (as I suppose) to the Marquis
of Caermarthen.  I did not know your country place had been Portraine, till
you told me so in your last.  Has Swanton taken it of Wallis?  That Wallis was
a grave, wise coxcomb.  God be thanked that Ppt im better of her disoddles.[8]
Pray God keep her so.  The pamphlet of Political Lying is written by Dr.
Arbuthnot, the author of John Bull; 'tis very pretty, but not so obvious to be
understood.  Higgins,[9] first chaplain to the Duke of Hamilton?  Why, the
Duke of Hamilton never dreamt of a chaplain, nor I believe ever heard of
Higgins.  You are glorious newsmongers in Ireland--Dean Francis,[10] Sir R.
Levinge,[11] stuff stuff:  and Pratt, more stuff.  We have lost our fine frost
here; and Abel Roper tells as you have had floods in Dublin; ho, brave[12]
you!  Oh ho! Swanton seized Portraine, now I understand oo.  Ay, ay, now I see
Portraune at the top of your letter.  I never minded it before.  Now to your
second, N.36.  So, you read one of the Grub Streets about the bandbox.[13]
The Whig papers have abused me about the bandbox.  God help me, what could I
do?  I fairly ventured my life.  There is a particular account of it in the
Postboy, and Evening Post of that day.  Lord Treasurer has had the seal sent
him that sealed the box, and directions where to find the other pistol in a
tree in St. James's Park, which Lord Bolingbroke's messenger found
accordingly; but who sent the present is not yet known.  The Duke of Hamilton
avoided the quarrel as much as possible, according to the foppish rules of
honour in practice.  What signified your writing angry to Filby?  I hope you
said nothing of hearing anything from me.  Heigh! do oo write by sandlelight!
nauti, nauti, nauti dallar, a hundred times, fol doing so.  O, fais, DD, I'll
take care of myself!  The Queen is in town, and Lady Masham's month of lying-
in is within two days of being out.  I was at the christening on Monday.  I
could not get the child named Robin, after Lord Treasurer; it is Samuel, after
the father.  My brother Ormond sent me some chocolate to-day.  I wish you had
share of it:  but they say 'tis good for me, and I design to drink some in a
morning.  Our Society meets next Thursday, now the Queen is in town; and Lord
Treasurer assures me that the Society for reforming the language shall soon be
established.  I have given away ten shillings to-day to servants; 'tan't be
help if one should cry one's eyes out.[14]  Hot a stir is here about your
company and visits!  Charming company, no doubt; now I keep no company at all,
nor have I any desire to keep any.  I never go to a coffee-house nor a tavern,
nor have touched a card since I left Windsor.  I make few visits, nor go to
levees; my only debauching is sitting late where I dine, if I like the
company.  I have almost dropped the Duchesses of Shrewsbury and Hamilton, and
several others.  Lord Treasurer, the Duke of Ormond, and Lady Orkney are all
that I see very often.  Oh yes, and Lady Masham and Lord Bolingbroke, and one
or two private friends.  I make no figure but at Court, where I affect to turn
from a lord to the meanest of my acquaintance, and I love to go there on
Sundays to see the world.  But, to say the truth, I am growing weary of it.  I
dislike a million of things in the course of public affairs; and if I were to
stay here much longer, I am sure I should ruin myself with endeavouring to
mend them.  I am every day invited into schemes of doing this, but I cannot
find any that will probably succeed.  It is impossible to save people against
their own will; and I have been too much engaged in patchwork already.  Do you
understand all this stuff?  No.  Well zen, you are now returned to ombre and
the Dean, and Christmas; I wish oo a very merry one; and pray don't lose oo
money, nor play upon Watt Welch's game.  Nite, sollahs, 'tis rate I'll go to
seep; I don't seep well, and therefore never dare to drink coffee or tea after
dinner:  but I am very seepy in a molning.  This is the effect of time and
years.  Nite deelest MD.

18.  Morn.  I am so very seepy in the morning that my man wakens me above ten
times; and now I can tell oo no news of this day.  (Here is a restless dog,
crying cabbages and savoys, plagues me every morning about this time; he is
now at it.  I wish his largest cabbage were sticking in his throat.)  I lodge
over against the house in Little Rider Street, where DD lodged.  Don't oo
lememble, maram?  To-night I must see the Abbe Gaultier,[15] to get some
particulars for my History.  It was he who was first employed by France in the
overtures of peace, and I have not had time this month to see him; he is but a
puppy too.  Lady Orkney has just sent to invite me to dinner; she has not
given me the bed-nightgown;[16] besides, I am come very much off from writing
in bed, though I am doing it this minute; but I stay till my fire is burnt up.
My grate is very large; two bushels of coals in a week:  but I save it in
lodgings.  Lord Abercorn is come to London, and will plague me, and I can do
him no service.  The Duke of Shrewsbury goes in a day or two for France,
perhaps to-day.  We shall have a peace very soon; the Dutch are almost
entirely agreed, and if they stop we shall make it without them; that has been
long resolved.  One Squire Jones,[17] a scoundrel in my parish, has writ to me
to desire I would engage Joe Beaumont to give him his interest for Parliament-
man for Trim:  pray tell Joe this; and if he designed to vote for him already,
then he may tell Jones that I received his letter, and that I writ to Joe to
do it.  If Joe be engaged for any other, then he may do what he will:  and
Parvisol may say he spoke to Joe, but Joe's engaged, etc.  I received three
pair of fine thread stockings from Joe lately.  Pray thank him when you see
him, and that I say they are very fine and good.  (I never looked at them yet,
but that's no matter.)  This is a fine day.  I am ruined with coaches and
chairs this twelvepenny weather.  I must see my brother Ormond at eleven, and
then the Duchess of Hamilton, with whom I doubt I am in disgrace, not having
seen her these ten days.  I send this to-day, and must finish it now; and
perhaps some people may come and hinder me; for it im ten o'clock (but not
shaving-day), and I must be abroad at eleven.  Abbe Gaultier sends me word I
can't see him to-night; pots cake him!  I don't value anything but one letter
he has of Petecum's,[18] showing the roguery of the Dutch.  Did not the
Conduct of the Allies make you great politicians?  Fais, I believe you are not
quite so ignorant as I thought you.  I am glad to hear oo walked so much in
the country.  Does DD ever read to you, ung ooman?  O, fais! I shall find
strange doings hen I tum ole![19]  Here is somebody coming that I must see
that wants a little place; the son of cousin Rooke's eldest daughter, that
died many years ago.  He's here.  Farewell, deelest MD MD MD ME ME ME FW FW
FW, Lele.



LETTER 57.[1]

LONDON, Dec. 18, 1712.

Our Society was to meet to-day; but Lord Harley, who was President this week,
could not attend, being gone to Wimbledon with his new brother-in-law, the
young Marquis of Caermarthen, who married Lady Betty Harley on Monday last;
and Lord Treasurer is at Wimbledon too.  However, half a dozen of us met, and
I propose our meetings should be once a fortnight; for, between you and me, we
do no good.  It cost me nineteen shillings to-day for my Club at dinner; I
don't like it, fais.  We have terrible snowy slobbery weather.  Lord Abercorn
is come to town, and will see me, whether I will or no.  You know he has a
pretence to a dukedom in France, which the Duke of Hamilton was soliciting
for; but Abercorn resolves to spoil their title, if they will not allow him a
fourth part; and I have advised the Duchess to compound with him, and have
made the Ministry of my opinion.  Night, dee sollahs, MD, MD.

19.  Ay mally zis is sumsing rike,[2] for Pdfr to write journals again!  'Tis
as natural as mother's milk, now I am got into it.  Lord Treasurer is returned
from Wimbledon ('tis not above eight miles off), and sent for me to dine with
him at five; but I had the grace to be abroad, and dined with some others,
with honest Ben Tooke, by invitation.  The Duchess of Ormond promised me her
picture, and coming home tonight, I found hers and the Duke's both in my
chamber.  Was not that a pretty civil surprise?  Yes, and they are in fine
gilded frames, too.  I am writing a letter to thank her, which I will send to-
morrow morning.  I'll tell her she is such a prude that she will not let so
much as her picture be alone in a room with a man, unless the Duke's be with
it; and so forth.[3]  We are full of snow, and dabbling.  Lady Masham has come
abroad these three days, and seen the Queen.  I dined with her t'other day at
her sister Hill's.  I hope she will remove in a few days to her new lodgings
at St. James's from Kensington.  Nite, dee logues MD.

20.  I lodge [up] two pair of stairs, have but one room, and deny myself to
everybody almost, yet I cannot be quiet; and all my mornings are lost with
people, who will not take answers below stairs; such as Dilly, and the Bishop,
and Provost, etc.  Lady Orkney invited me to dinner to-day, which hindered me
from dining with Lord Treasurer.  This is his day that his chief friends in
the Ministry dine with him.  However, I went there about six, and sat with
them till past nine, when they all went off; but he kept me back, and told me
the circumstances of Lady Betty's match.  The young fellow has 60,000 pounds
ready money, three great houses furnished, 7,000 pounds a year at present, and
about five more after his father and mother die.  I think Lady Betty's portion
is not above 8,000 pounds.  I remember either Tisdall writ to me in somebody's
letter, or you did it for him, that I should mention him on occasion to Lord
Anglesea, with whom, he said, he had some little acquaintance.  Lord Anglesea
was with me to-night at Lord Treasurer's; and then I asked him about Tisdall,
and described him.  He said he never saw him, but that he had sent him his
book.[4]  See what it is to be a puppy.  Pray tell Mr. Walls that Lord
Anglesea thanked me for recommending Clements[5] to him; that he says he is
20,000 pounds the better for knowing Clements.  But pray don't let Clements go
and write a letter of thanks, and tell my lord that he hears so and so, etc.
Why, 'tis but like an Irish understanding to do so.  Sad weather; two
shillings in coaches to-day, and yet I am dirty.  I am now going to read over
something and correct it.  So, nite.

21.  Puppies have got a new way of plaguing me.  I find letters directed for
me at Lord Treasurer's, sometimes with enclosed ones to him, and sometimes
with projects, and some times with libels.  I usually keep them three or four
days without opening.  I was at Court to-day, as I always am on Sundays,
instead of a coffee-house, to see my acquaintance.  This day se'nnight, after
I had been talking at Court with Sir William Wyndham, the Spanish
Ambassador[6] came to him and said he heard that was Dr. Swift, and desired
him to tell me that his master, and the King of France, and the Queen, were
more obliged to me than any man in Europe; so we bowed, and shook hands, etc.
I took it very well of him.  I dined with Lord Treasurer, and must again to-
morrow, though I had rather not (as DD says); but now the Queen is in town, he
does not keep me so late.  I have not had time to see Fanny Manley since she
came, but intend it one of these days.  Her uncle, Jack Manley,[7] I hear,
cannot live a month, which will be a great loss to her father in Ireland, for
I believe he is one of his chief supports.  Our peace now will soon be
determined; for Lord Bolingbroke tells me this morning that four provinces of
Holland[8] have complied with the Queen, and we expect the rest will do so
immediately.  Nite MD.

22.  Lord Keeper promised me yesterday the first convenient living to poor Mr.
Gery,[9] who is married, and wants some addition to what he has.  He is a very
worthy creature.  I had a letter some weeks ago from Elwick,[10] who married
Betty Gery.  It seems the poor woman died some time last summer.  Elwick grows
rich, and purchases lands.  I dined with Lord Treasurer to-day, who has
engaged me to come again to-morrow.  I gave Lord Bolingbroke a poem of
Parnell's.[11]  I made Parnell insert some compliments in it to his lordship.
He is extremely pleased with it, and read some parts of it to-day to Lord
Treasurer, who liked it as much.  And indeed he outdoes all our poets here a
bar's length.  Lord Bolingbroke has ordered me to bring him to dinner on
Christmas Day, and I made Lord Treasurer promise to see him; and it may one
day do Parnell a kindness.  You know Parnell.  I believe I have told you of
that poem.  Nite, deel MD.

23.  This morning I presented one Diaper,[12] a poet, to Lord Bolingbroke,
with a new poem, which is a very good one; and I am to give him a sum of money
from my lord; and I have contrived to make a parson of him, for he is half one
already, being in deacon's orders, and serves a small cure in the country; but
has a sword at his a--- here in town.  'Tis a poor little short wretch, but
will do best in a gown, and we will make Lord Keeper give him a living.  Lord
Bolingbroke writ to Lord Treasurer to excuse me to-day; so I dined with the
former, and Monteleon, the Spanish Ambassador, who made me many compliments.
I stayed till nine, and now it is past ten, and my man has locked me up, and I
have just called to mind that I shall be in disgrace with Tom Leigh.[13]  That
coxcomb had got into acquaintance with one Eckershall,[14] Clerk of the
Kitchen to the Queen, who was civil to him at Windsor on my account; for I had
done some service to Eckershall.  Leigh teases me to pass an evening at his
lodgings with Eckershall.  I put it off several times, but was forced at last
to promise I would come to-night; and it never was in my head till I was
locked up, and I have called and called, but my man is gone to bed; so I will
write an excuse to-morrow.  I detest that Tom Leigh, and am as formal to him
as I can when I happen to meet him in the Park.  The rogue frets me, if he
knew it.  He asked me why I did not wait on the Bishop of Dromore.[15]  I
answered I had not the honour to be acquainted with him, and would not
presume, etc.  He takes me seriously, and says the Bishop is no proud man,
etc.  He tells me of a judge in Ireland that has done ill things.  I ask why
he is not out?  Says he, "I think the bishops, and you, and I, and the rest of
the clergy, should meet and consult about it."  I beg his pardon, and say, "I
cannot be serviceable that way."  He answers, "Yes, everybody may help
something."--Don't you see how curiously he contrives to vex me; for the dog
knows that with half a word I could do more than all of them together.  But he
only does it from the pride and envy of his own heart, and not out of a
humorous design of teasing.  He is one of those that would rather a service
should not be done, than done by a private man, and of his own country.  You
take all this, don't you?  Nite dee sollahs, I'll go seep a dozey.

24.  I dined to-day with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, in order to look
over some of my papers; but nothing was done.  I have been also mediating
between the Hamilton family and Lord Abercorn, to have them compound with him;
and I believe they will do it.  Lord Selkirk,[16] the late Duke's brother, is
to be in town, in order to go to France, to make the demands; and the Ministry
are of opinion they will get some satisfaction, and they empowered me to
advise the Hamilton side to agree with Abercorn, who asks a fourth part, and
will go to France and spoil all if they won't yield it.  Nite sollahs.
                
 
 
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