16. Morning. Faith, I will send this letter to-day to shame you, if I han't
one from MD before night, that's certain. Won't you grumble for want of the
third side, pray now? Yes, I warrant you; yes, yes, you shall have the third,
you shall so, when you can catch it, some other time; when you be writing
girls.--O, faith, I think I won't stay till night, but seal up this just now,
and carry it in my pocket, and whip it into the post-office as I come home at
evening. I am going out early this morning.--Patrick's bills for coals and
candles, etc., come sometimes to three shillings a week; I keep very good
fires, though the weather be warm. Ireland will never be happy till you get
small coal[27] likewise; nothing so easy, so convenient, so cheap, so pretty,
for lighting a fire. My service to Mrs. Stoyte and Walls; has she a boy or a
girl? A girl, hum; and died in a week, humm; and was poor Stella forced to
stand for godmother?--Let me know how accompts stand, that you may have your
money betimes. There's four months for my lodging, that must be thought on
too: and so go dine with Manley, and lose your money, do, extravagant
sluttikin, but don't fret.--It will be just three weeks when I have the next
letter, that's to-morrow. Farewell, dearest beloved MD; and love poor, poor
Presto, who has not had one happy day since he left you, as hope saved.--It is
the last sally I will ever make, but I hope it will turn to some account. I
have done more for these,[28] and I think they are more honest than the last;
however, I will not be disappointed. I would make MD and me easy; and I never
desired more.--Farewell, etc. etc.
LETTER 14.
LONDON, Jan. 16, 171O-11.
O faith, young women, I have sent my letter N.13 without one crumb of an
answer to any of MD's, there's for you now; and yet Presto ben't angry, faith,
not a bit, only he will begin to be in pain next Irish post, except he sees
MD's little handwriting in the glass-frame at the bar of St. James's Coffee-
house, where Presto would never go but for that purpose. Presto is at home,
God help him, every night from six till bed-time, and has as little enjoyment
or pleasure in life at present as anybody in the world, although in full
favour with all the Ministry. As hope saved, nothing gives Presto any sort of
dream of happiness but a letter now and then from his own dearest MD. I love
the expectation of it; and when it does not come, I comfort myself that I have
it yet to be happy with. Yes, faith, and when I write to MD, I am happy too;
it is just as if methinks you were here, and I prating to you, and telling you
where I have been: "Well," says you, "Presto, come, where have you been to-
day? come, let's hear now." And so then I answer: "Ford and I were visiting
Mr. Lewis and Mr. Prior; and Prior has given me a fine Plautus; and then Ford
would have had me dine at his lodgings, and so I would not; and so I dined
with him at an eating-house, which I have not done five times since I came
here; and so I came home, after visiting Sir Andrew Fountaine's mother and
sister, and Sir Andrew Fountaine is mending, though slowly."
17. I was making, this morning, some general visits, and at twelve I called
at the Coffee-house for a letter from MD; so the man said he had given it to
Patrick. Then I went to the Court of Requests and Treasury, to find Mr.
Harley, and, after some time spent in mutual reproaches, I promised to dine
with him. I stayed there till seven, then called at Sterne's and Leigh's to
talk about your box, and to have it sent by Smyth. Sterne says he has been
making inquiries, and will set things right as soon as possible. I suppose it
lies at Chester, at least I hope so, and only wants a lift over to you. Here
has little Harrison been to complain that the printer I recommended to him for
his Tatler is a coxcomb; and yet to see how things will happen; for this very
printer is my cousin, his name is Dryden Leach;[1] did you never hear of
Dryden Leach, he that prints the Postman? He acted Oroonoko;[2] he's in love
with Miss Cross.[3]--Well, so I came home to read my letter from Stella, but
the dog Patrick was abroad; at last he came, and I got my letter. I found
another hand had superscribed it; when I opened it, I found it written all in
French, and subscribed Bernage:[4] faith, I was ready to fling it at
Patrick's head. Bernage tells me he had been to desire your recommendation to
me, to make him a captain; and your cautious answer, that he had as much power
with me as you, was a notable one; if you were here, I would present you to
the Ministry as a person of ability. Bernage should let me know where to
write to him; this is the second letter I have had without any direction;
however, I beg I may not have a third, but that you will ask him, and send me
how I shall direct to him. In the meantime, tell him that if regiments are to
be raised here, as he says, I will speak to George Granville,[5] Secretary at
War, to make him a captain; and use what other interest I conveniently can. I
think that is enough, and so tell him, and do not trouble me with his letters,
when I expect them from MD; do you hear, young women? write to Presto.
18. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary St. John, and we were to dine at
Mr. Harley's alone, about some business of importance; but there were two or
three gentlemen there. Mr. Secretary and I went together from his office to
Mr. Harley's, and thought to have been very wise; but the deuce a bit, the
company stayed, and more came, and Harley went away at seven, and the
Secretary and I stayed with the rest of the company till eleven; I would then
have had him come away; but he was in for't; and though he swore he would come
away at that flask, there I left him. I wonder at the civility of these
people; when he saw I would drink no more, he would always pass the bottle by
me, and yet I could not keep the toad from drinking himself, nor he would not
let me go neither, nor Masham,[6] who was with us. When I got home, I found a
parcel directed to me; and opening it, I found a pamphlet written entirely
against myself, not by name, but against something I writ:[7] it is pretty
civil, and affects to be so, and I think I will take no notice of it; 'tis
against something written very lately; and indeed I know not what to say, nor
do I care. And so you are a saucy rogue for losing your money to-day at
Stoyte's; to let that bungler beat you, fie, Stella, an't you ashamed? Well,
I forgive you this once, never do so again; no, noooo. Kiss and be friends,
sirrah.--Come, let me go sleep, I go earlier to bed than formerly; and have
not been out so late these two months; but the Secretary was in a drinking
humour. So good-night, myownlittledearsaucyinsolentrogues.
19. Then you read that long word in the last line; no,[8] faith, han't you.
Well, when will this letter come from our MD? to-morrow or next day without
fail; yes, faith, and so it is coming. This was an insipid snowy day, no
walking day, and I dined gravely with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and came home, and am
now got to bed a little after ten; I remember old Culpepper's maxim:
"Would you have a settled head,
You must early go to bed:
I tell you, and I tell't again,
You must be in bed at ten."
2O. And so I went to-day with my new wig, o hoao, to visit Lady Worsley,[9]
whom I had not seen before, although she was near a month in town. Then I
walked in the Park to find Mr. Ford, whom I had promised to meet; and coming
down the Mall, who should come towards me but Patrick, and gives me five
letters out of his pocket. I read the superscription of the first, "Pshoh,"
said I; of the second, "Pshoh" again; of the third, "Pshah, pshah, pshah"; of
the fourth, "A gad, a gad, a gad, I'm in a rage"; of the fifth and last, "O
hoooa; ay marry this is something, this is our MD"; so truly we opened it, I
think immediately, and it began the most impudently in the world, thus: "Dear
Presto, We are even thus far." "Now we are even," quoth Stephen, when he gave
his wife six blows for one. I received your ninth four days after I had sent
my thirteenth. But I'll reckon with you anon about that, young women. Why
did not you recant at the end of your letter, when you got my eleventh, tell
me that, huzzies base? were we even then, were we, sirrah? But I won't answer
your letter now, I'll keep it for another time. We had a great deal of snow
to-day, and 'tis terrible cold. I dined with Ford, because it was his Opera-
day and snowed, so I did not care to stir farther. I will send tomorrow to
Smyth.
21. Morning. It has snowed terribly all night, and is vengeance cold. I am
not yet up, but cannot write long; my hands will freeze. "Is there a good
fire, Patrick?" "Yes, sir." "Then I will rise; come, take away the candle."
You must know I write on the dark side of my bed-chamber, and am forced to
have a candle till I rise, for the bed stands between me and the window, and I
keep the curtains shut this cold weather. So pray let me rise; and Patrick,
here, take away the candle.--At night. We are now here in high frost and
snow, the largest fire can hardly keep us warm. It is very ugly walking; a
baker's boy broke his thigh yesterday. I walk slow, make short steps, and
never tread on my heel. 'Tis a good proverb the Devonshire people have:
"Walk fast in snow,
In frost walk slow;
And still as you go,
Tread on your toe.
When frost and snow are both together,
Sit by the fire, and spare shoe-leather."
I dined to-day with Dr. Cockburn,[10] but will not do so again in haste, he
has generally such a parcel of Scots with him.
22. Morning. Starving, starving, uth, uth, uth, uth, uth.--Don't you
remember I used to come into your chamber, and turn Stella out of her chair,
and rake up the fire in a cold morning, and cry Uth, uth, uth? etc. O, faith,
I must rise, my hand is so cold I can write no more. So good-morrow,
sirrahs.--At night. I went this morning to Lady Giffard's house, and saw your
mother, and made her give me a pint bottle of palsy-water,[11] which I brought
home in my pocket; and sealed and tied up in a paper, and sent it to Mr.
Smyth, who goes to-morrow for Ireland, and sent a letter to him to desire his
care of it, and that he would inquire at Chester about the box. He was not
within: so the bottle and letter were left for him at his lodgings, with
strict orders to give them to him; and I will send Patrick in a day or two, to
know whether it was given, etc. Dr. Stratford[12] and I dined to-day with Mr.
Stratford[13] in the City, by appointment; but I chose to walk there, for
exercise in the frost. But the weather had given a little, as you women call
it, so it was something slobbery. I did not get home till nine.
And now I'm in bed,
To break your head.
23. Morning. They tell me it freezes again, but it is not so cold as
yesterday: so now I will answer a bit of your letter.--At night. O, faith, I
was just going to answer some of our MD's letter this morning, when a printer
came in about some business, and stayed an hour; so I rose, and then came in
Ben Tooke, and then I shaved and scribbled; and it was such a terrible day, I
could not stir out till one, and then I called at Mrs. Barton's, and we went
to Lady Worsley's, where we were to dine by appointment. The Earl of
Berkeley[14] is going to be married to Lady Louisa Lennox, the Duke of
Richmond's daughter. I writ this night to Dean Sterne, and bid him tell you
all about the bottle of palsy-water by Smyth; and to-morrow morning I will say
something to your letter.
24. Morning. Come now to your letter. As for your being even with me, I
have spoken to that already. So now, my dearly beloved, let us proceed to the
next. You are always grumbling that you han't letters fast enough; "surely we
shall have your tenth;" and yet, before you end your letter, you own you have
my eleventh.--And why did not MD go into the country with the Bishop of
Clogher? faith, such a journey would have done you good; Stella should have
rode, and Dingley gone in the coach. The Bishop of Kilmore[15] I know nothing
of; he is old, and may die; he lives in some obscure corner, for I never heard
of him. As for my old friends, if you mean the Whigs, I never see them, as
you may find by my journals, except Lord Halifax, and him very seldom; Lord
Somers never since the first visit, for he has been a false, deceitful
rascal.[16] My new friends are very kind, and I have promises enough, but I
do not count upon them, and besides my pretences are very young to them.
However, we will see what may be done; and if nothing at all, I shall not be
disappointed; although perhaps poor MD may, and then I shall be sorrier for
their sakes than my own.--Talk of a merry Christmas (why do you write it so
then, young women? sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander), I have wished
you all that two or three letters ago. Good lack; and your news, that Mr. St.
John is going to Holland; he has no such thoughts, to quit the great station
he is in; nor, if he had, could I be spared to go with him. So, faith,
politic Madam Stella, you come with your two eggs a penny, etc. Well, Madam
Dingley, and so Mrs. Stoyte invites you, and so you stay at Donnybrook, and so
you could not write. You are plaguy exact in your journals, from Dec. 25 to
Jan. 4. Well, Smyth and the palsy-water I have handled already, and he does
not lodge (or rather did not, for, poor man, now he is gone) at Mr. Jesse's,
and all that stuff; but we found his lodging, and I went to Stella's mother on
my own head, for I never remembered it was in the letter to desire another
bottle; but I was so fretted, so tosticated, and so impatient that Stella
should have her water (I mean decently, do not be rogues), and so vexed with
Sterne's carelessness.--Pray God, Stella's illness may not return! If they
come seldom, they begin to be weary; I judge by myself; for when I seldom
visit, I grow weary of my acquaintance.--Leave a good deal of my tenth
unanswered! Impudent slut, when did you ever answer my tenth, or ninth, or
any other number? or who desires you to answer, provided you write? I defy
the D---- to answer my letters: sometimes there may be one or two things I
should be glad you would answer; but I forget them, and you never think of
them. I shall never love answering letters again, if you talk of answering.
Answering, quotha! pretty answerers truly.--As for the pamphlet you speak of,
and call it scandalous, and that one Mr. Presto is said to write it, hear my
answer. Fie, child, you must not mind what every idle body tells you--I
believe you lie, and that the dogs were not crying it when you said so; come,
tell truth. I am sorry you go to St. Mary's[17] so soon, you will be as poor
as rats; that place will drain you with a vengeance: besides, I would have
you think of being in the country in summer. Indeed, Stella, pippins produced
plentifully; Parvisol could not send from Laracor: there were about half a
score, I would be glad to know whether they were good for anything.--Mrs.
Walls at Donnybrook with you; why is not she brought to bed? Well, well,
well, Dingley, pray be satisfied; you talk as if you were angry about the
Bishop's not offering you conveniences for the journey; and so he should.--
What sort of Christmas? Why, I have had no Christmas at all; and has it
really been Christmas of late? I never once thought of it. My service to
Mrs. Stoyte, and Catherine; and let Catherine get the coffee ready against I
come, and not have so much care on her countenance; for all will go well.--Mr.
Bernage, Mr. Bernage, Mr. Fiddlenage, I have had three letters from him now
successively; he sends no directions, and how the D---- shall I write to him?
I would have burnt his last, if I had not seen Stella's hand at the bottom:
his request is all nonsense. How can I assist him in buying? and if he be
ordered to go to Spain, go he must, or else sell, and I believe one can hardly
sell in such a juncture. If he had stayed, and new regiments raised, I would
have used my endeavour to have had him removed; although I have no credit that
way, or very little: but, if the regiment goes, he ought to go too; he has
had great indulgence, and opportunities of saving; and I have urged him to it
a hundred times. What can I do? whenever it lies in my power to do him a good
office, I will do it. Pray draw up this into a handsome speech, and represent
it to him from me, and that I would write, if I knew where to direct to him;
and so I have told you, and desired you would tell him, fifty times. Yes,
Madam Stella, I think I can read your long concluding word, but you can't read
mine after bidding you good-night. And yet methinks, I mend extremely in my
writing; but when Stella's eyes are well, I hope to write as bad as ever.--So
now I have answered your letter, and mine is an answer; for I lay yours before
me, and I look and write, and write and look, and look and write again.--So
good-morrow, madams both, and I will go rise, for I must rise; for I take
pills at night, and so I must rise early, I don't know why.
25. Morning. I did not tell you how I passed my time yesterday, nor bid you
good-night, and there was good reason. I went in the morning to Secretary St.
John about some business; he had got a great Whig with him; a creature of the
Duke of Marlborough, who is a go-between to make peace between the Duke and
the Ministry: so he came out of his closet, and, after a few words, desired I
would dine with him at three; but Mr. Lewis stayed till six before he came;
and there we sat talking, and the time slipped so, that at last, when I was
positive to go, it was past two o'clock; so I came home, and went straight to
bed. He would never let me look at his watch, and I could not imagine it
above twelve when we went away. So I bid you good-night for last night, and
now I bid you good-morrow, and I am still in bed, though it be near ten, but I
must rise.
26, 27, 28, 29, 3O. I have been so lazy and negligent these last four days
that I could not write to MD. My head is not in order, and yet is not
absolutely ill, but giddyish, and makes me listless; I walk every day, and
take drops of Dr. Cockburn, and I have just done a box of pills; and to-day
Lady Kerry sent me some of her bitter drink, which I design to take twice a
day, and hope I shall grow better. I wish I were with MD; I long for spring
and good weather, and then I will come over. My riding in Ireland keeps me
well. I am very temperate, and eat of the easiest meats as I am directed, and
hope the malignity will go off; but one fit shakes me a long time. I dined
to-day with Lord Mountjoy, yesterday at Mr. Stone's, in the City, on Sunday at
Vanhomrigh's, Saturday with Ford, and Friday I think at Vanhomrigh's; and that
is all the journal I can send MD, for I was so lazy while I was well, that I
could not write. I thought to have sent this to-night, but 'tis ten, and I'll
go to bed, and write on t'other side to Parvisol to-morrow, and send it on
Thursday; and so good-night, my dears; and love Presto, and be healthy, and
Presto will be so too, etc.
Cut off these notes handsomely, d'ye hear, sirrahs, and give Mrs. Brent hers,
and keep yours till you see Parvisol, and then make up the letter to him, and
send it him by the first opportunity; and so God Almighty bless you both, here
and ever, and poor Presto.
What, I warrant you thought at first that these last lines were another
letter.
Dingley, Pray pay Stella six fishes, and place them to the account of your
humble servant, Presto.
Stella, Pray pay Dingley six fishes, and place them to the account of your
humble servant, Presto.
There are bills of exchange for you.
LETTER 15.
LONDON, Jan. 31, 1710-11.
I am to send you my fourteenth to-morrow; but my head, having some little
disorders, confounds all my journals. I was early this morning with Mr.
Secretary St. John about some business, so I could not scribble my morning
lines to MD. They are here intending to tax all little printed penny papers a
halfpenny every half-sheet, which will utterly ruin Grub Street, and I am
endeavouring to prevent it.[1] Besides, I was forwarding an impeachment
against a certain great person; that was two of my businesses with the
Secretary, were they not worthy ones? It was Ford's birthday, and I refused
the Secretary, and dined with Ford. We are here in as smart a frost for the
time as I have seen; delicate walking weather, and the Canal and Rosamond's
Pond[2] full of the rabble sliding and with skates, if you know what those
are. Patrick's bird's water freezes in the gallipot, and my hands in bed.
Feb. 1. I was this morning with poor Lady Kerry, who is much worse in her
head than I. She sends me bottles of her bitter; and we are so fond of one
another, because our ailments are the same; don't you know that, Madam Stella?
Han't I seen you conning ailments with Joe's wife,[3] and some others, sirrah?
I walked into the City to dine, because of the walk, for we must take care of
Presto's health, you know, because of poor little MD. But I walked plaguy
carefully, for fear of sliding against my will; but I am very busy.
2. This morning Mr. Ford came to me to walk into the City, where he had
business, and then to buy books at Bateman's; and I laid out one pound five
shillings for a Strabo and Aristophanes, and I have now got books enough to
make me another shelf, and I will have more, or it shall cost me a fall; and
so as we came back, we drank a flask of right French wine at Ben Tooke's
chamber; and when I got home, Mrs. Vanhomrigh sent me word her eldest
daughter[4] was taken suddenly very ill, and desired I would come and see her.
I went, and found it was a silly trick of Mrs. Armstrong,[5] Lady Lucy's
sister, who, with Moll Stanhope, was visiting there: however, I rattled off
the daughter.
3. To-day I went and dined at Lady Lucy's, where you know I have not been
this long time. They are plaguy Whigs, especially the sister Armstrong, the
most insupportable of all women, pretending to wit, without any taste. She
was running down the last Examiner,[6] the prettiest I had read, with a
character of the present Ministry.--I left them at five, and came home. But I
forgot to tell you, that this morning my cousin Dryden Leach, the printer,
came to me with a heavy complaint, that Harrison the new Tatler had turned him
off, and taken the last Tatler's printers again. He vowed revenge; I answered
gravely, and so he left me, and I have ordered Patrick to deny me to him from
henceforth: and at night comes a letter from Harrison, telling me the same
thing, and excused his doing it without my notice, because he would bear all
the blame; and in his Tatler of this day[7] he tells you the story, how he has
taken his old officers, and there is a most humble letter from Morphew and
Lillie to beg his pardon, etc.[8] And lastly, this morning Ford sent me two
letters from the Coffee-house (where I hardly ever go), one from the
Archbishop of Dublin, and t'other from--Who do you think t'other was from?--
I'll tell you, because you are friends; why, then it was, faith, it was from
my own dear little MD, N.10. Oh, but will not answer it now, no, noooooh,
I'll keep it between the two sheets; here it is, just under; oh, I lifted up
the sheet and saw it there: lie still, you shan't be answered yet, little
letter; for I must go to bed, and take care of my head.
4. I avoid going to church yet, for fear of my head, though it has been much
better these last five or six days, since I have taken Lady Kerry's bitter.
Our frost holds like a dragon. I went to Mr. Addison's, and dined with him at
his lodgings; I had not seen him these three weeks, we are grown common
acquaintance; yet what have not I done for his friend Steele? Mr. Harley
reproached me the last time I saw him, that to please me he would be
reconciled to Steele, and had promised and appointed to see him, and that
Steele never came. Harrison, whom Mr. Addison recommended to me, I have
introduced to the Secretary of State, who has promised me to take care of him;
and I have represented Addison himself so to the Ministry, that they think and
talk in his favour, though they hated him before.--Well, he is now in my debt,
and there's an end; and I never had the least obligation to him, and there's
another end. This evening I had a message from Mr. Harley, desiring to know
whether I was alive, and that I would dine with him to-morrow. They dine so
late, that since my head has been wrong I have avoided being with them.--
Patrick has been out of favour these ten days; I talk dry and cross to him,
and have called him "friend" three or four times. But, sirrahs, get you gone.
5. Morning. I am going this morning to see Prior, who dines with me at Mr.
Harley's; so I can't stay fiddling and talking with dear little brats in a
morning, and 'tis still terribly cold.--I wish my cold hand was in the warmest
place about you, young women, I'd give ten guineas upon that account with all
my heart, faith; oh, it starves my thigh; so I'll rise and bid you good-
morrow, my ladies both, good-morrow. Come, stand away, let me rise: Patrick,
take away the candle. Is there a good fire?--So--up-a-dazy.--At night. Mr.
Harley did not sit down till six, and I stayed till eleven; henceforth I will
choose to visit him in the evenings, and dine with him no more if I can help
it. It breaks all my measures, and hurts my health; my head is disorderly,
but not ill, and I hope it will mend.
6. Here has been such a hurry with the Queen's Birthday, so much fine
clothes, and the Court so crowded that I did not go there. All the frost is
gone. It thawed on Sunday, and so continues, yet ice is still on the Canal (I
did not mean that of Laracor, but St. James's Park) and boys sliding on it.
Mr. Ford pressed me to dine with him in his chamber.--Did not I tell you
Patrick has got a bird, a linnet, to carry over to Dingley? It was very tame
at first, and 'tis now the wildest I ever saw. He keeps it in a closet, where
it makes a terrible litter; but I say nothing: I am as tame as a clout. When
must we answer our MD's letter? One of these odd-come-shortlies. This is a
week old, you see, and no farther yet. Mr. Harley desired I would dine with
him again to-day; but I refused him, for I fell out with him yesterday,[9] and
will not see him again till he makes me amends: and so I go to bed.
7. I was this morning early with Mr. Lewis of the Secretary's office, and saw
a letter Mr. Harley had sent to him, desiring to be reconciled; but I was deaf
to all entreaties, and have desired Lewis to go to him, and let him know I
expect further satisfaction. If we let these great Ministers pretend too
much, there will be no governing them. He promises to make me easy, if I will
but come and see him; but I won't, and he shall do it by message, or I will
cast him off. I'll tell you the cause of our quarrel when I see you, and
refer it to yourselves. In that he did something, which he intended for a
favour; and I have taken it quite otherwise, disliking both the thing and the
manner, and it has heartily vexed me, and all I have said is truth, though it
looks like jest; and I absolutely refused to submit to his intended favour,
and expect further satisfaction. Mr. Ford and I dined with Mr. Lewis. We
have a monstrous deal of snow, and it has cost me two shillings to-day in
chair and coach, and walked till I was dirty besides. I know not what it is
now to read or write after I am in bed. The last thing I do up is to write
something to our MD, and then get into bed, and put out my candle, and so go
sleep as fast as ever I can. But in the mornings I do write sometimes in bed,
as you know.
8. Morning. I HAVE DESIRED APRONIA TO BE ALWAYS CAREFUL, ESPECIALLY ABOUT
THE LEGS. Pray, do you see any such great wit in that sentence? I must
freely own that I do not. But party carries everything nowadays, and what a
splutter have I heard about the wit of that saying, repeated with admiration
above a hundred times in half an hour! Pray read it over again this moment,
and consider it. I think the word is ADVISED, and not DESIRED. I should not
have remembered it if I had not heard it so often. Why--ay--You must know I
dreamed it just now, and waked with it in my mouth. Are you bit, or are you
not, sirrahs? I met Mr. Harley in the Court of Requests, and he asked me how
long I had learnt the trick of writing to myself? He had seen your letter
through the glass case at the Coffee-house, and would swear it was my hand;
and Mr. Ford, who took and sent it me, was of the same mind. I remember
others have formerly said so too. I think I was little MD's writing-
master.[10]--But come, what is here to do, writing to young women in a
morning? I have other fish to fry; so good-morrow, my ladies all, good-
morrow. Perhaps I'll answer your letter to-night, perhaps I won't; that's as
saucy little Presto takes the humour.--At night. I walked in the Park to-day
in spite of the weather, as I do always when it does not actually rain. Do
you know what it has gone and done? We had a thaw for three days, then a
monstrous dirt and snow, and now it freezes, like a pot-lid, upon our snow. I
dined with Lady Betty Germaine, the first time since I came for England; and
there did I sit, like a booby, till eight, looking over her and another lady
at piquet, when I had other business enough to do. It was the coldest day I
felt this year.
9. Morning. After I had been abed an hour last night, I was forced to rise
and call to the landlady and maid to have the fire removed in a chimney below
stairs, which made my bed-chamber smoke, though I had no fire in it. I have
been twice served so. I never lay so miserable an hour in my life. Is it not
plaguy vexatious?--It has snowed all night, and rains this morning.--Come,
where's MD's letter? Come, Mrs. Letter, make your appearance. Here am I,
says she, answer me to my face.--O, faith, I am sorry you had my twelfth so
soon; I doubt you will stay longer for the rest. I'm so 'fraid you have got
my fourteenth while I am writing this; and I would always have one letter from
Presto reading, one travelling, and one writing. As for the box, I now
believe it lost. It is directed for Mr. Curry, at his house in Capel Street,
etc. I had a letter yesterday from Dr. Raymond in Chester, who says he sent
his man everywhere, and cannot find it; and God knows whether Mr. Smyth will
have better success. Sterne spoke to him, and I writ to him with the bottle
of palsy-water; that bottle, I hope, will not miscarry: I long to hear you
have it. O, faith, you have too good an opinion of Presto's care. I am
negligent enough of everything but MD, and I should not have trusted Sterne.--
But it shall not go so: I will have one more tug for it.--As to what you say
of Goodman Peasly and Isaac,[11] I answer as I did before. Fie, child, you
must not give yourself the way to believe any such thing: and afterwards,
only for curiosity, you may tell me how these things are approved, and how you
like them; and whether they instruct you in the present course of affairs, and
whether they are printed in your town, or only sent from hence.--Sir Andrew
Fountaine is recovered; so take your sorrow again, but don't keep it, fling it
to the dogs. And does little MD walk indeed?--I'm glad of it at heart.--Yes,
we have done with the plague here: it was very saucy in you to pretend to
have it before your betters. Your intelligence that the story is false about
the officers forced to sell,[12] is admirable. You may see them all three
here every day, no more in the army than you. Twelve shillings for mending
the strong box; that is, for putting a farthing's worth of iron on a hinge,
and gilding it; give him six shillings, and I'll pay it, and never employ him
or his again.--No indeed, I put off preaching as much as I can. I am upon
another foot: nobody doubts here whether I can preach, and you are fools.--
The account you give of that weekly paper[13] agrees with us here. Mr. Prior
was like to be insulted in the street for being supposed the author of it; but
one of the last papers cleared him. Nobody knows who it is, but those few in
the secret, I suppose the Ministry and the printer.--Poor Stella's eyes! God
bless them, and send them better. Pray spare them, and write not above two
lines a day in broad daylight. How does Stella look, Madam Dingley? Pretty
well, a handsome young woman still. Will she pass in a crowd? Will she make
a figure in a country church?--Stay a little, fair ladies. I this minute sent
Patrick to Sterne: he brings back word that your box is very safe with one
Mr. Earl's sister in Chester, and that Colonel Edgworth's widow[14] goes for
Ireland on Monday next, and will receive the box at Chester, and deliver it
you safe: so there are some hopes now.--Well, let us go on to your letter.--
The warrant is passed for the First-Fruits. The Queen does not send a letter;
but a patent will be drawn here, and that will take up time. Mr. Harley of
late has said nothing of presenting me to the Queen: I was overseen[15] when
I mentioned it to you. He has such a weight of affairs on him, that he cannot
mind all; but he talked of it three or four times to me, long before I dropped
it to you. What, is not Mrs. Walls' business over yet? I had hopes she was
up and well, and the child dead before this time.--You did right, at last, to
send me your accompts; but I did not stay for them, I thank you. I hope you
have your bill sent in my last, and there will be eight pounds' interest soon
due from Hawkshaw: pray look at his bond. I hope you are good managers; and
that, when I say so, Stella won't think I intend she should grudge herself
wine. But going to those expensive lodgings requires some fund. I wish you
had stayed till I came over, for some reasons. That Frenchwoman[16] will be
grumbling again in a little time: and if you are invited anywhere to the
country, it will vex you to pay in absence; and the country may be necessary
for poor Stella's health: but do as you like, and do not blame Presto.--Oh,
but you are telling your reasons.--Well, I have read them; do as you please.--
Yes, Raymond says he must stay longer than he thought, because he cannot
settle his affairs. M---- is in the country at some friend's, comes to town
in spring, and then goes to settle in Herefordshire. Her husband is a surly,
ill-natured brute, and cares not she should see anybody. O Lord, see how I
blundered, and left two lines short; it was that ugly score in the paper[17]
that made me mistake.--I believe you lie about the story of the fire, only to
make it more odd. Bernage must go to Spain; and I will see to recommend him
to the Duke of Argyle, his General, when I see the Duke next: but the
officers tell me it would be dishonourable in the last degree for him to sell
now, and he would never be preferred in the army; so that, unless he designs
to leave it for good and all, he must go. Tell him so, and that I would write
if I knew where to direct to him; which I have said fourscore times already.
I had rather anything almost than that you should strain yourselves to send a
letter when it is inconvenient; we have settled that matter already. I'll
write when I can, and so shall MD; and upon occasions extraordinary I will
write, though it be a line; and when we have not letters soon, we agree that
all things are well; and so that's settled for ever, and so hold your tongue.-
-Well, you shall have your pins; but for candles' ends, I cannot promise,
because I burn them to the stumps; besides, I remember what Stella told
Dingley about them many years ago, and she may think the same thing of me.--
And Dingley shall have her hinged spectacles.--Poor dear Stella, how durst you
write those two lines by candlelight? bang your bones! Faith, this letter
shall go to-morrow, I think, and that will be in ten days from the last, young
women; that's too soon of all conscience: but answering yours has filled it
up so quick, and I do not design to use you to three pages in folio, no,
nooooh. All this is one morning's work in bed;--and so good-morrow, little
sirrahs; that's for the rhyme.[18] You want politics: faith, I can't think
of any; but may be at night I may tell you a passage. Come, sit off the bed,
and let me rise, will you?--At night. I dined to-day with my neighbour
Vanhomrigh; it was such dismal weather I could not stir further. I have had
some threatenings with my head, but no fits. I still drink Dr.
Radcliffe's[19] bitter, and will continue it.
10. I was this morning to see the Secretary of State, and have engaged him to
give a memorial from me to the Duke of Argyle in behalf of Bernage. The Duke
is a man that distinguishes people of merit, and I will speak to him myself;
but the Secretary backing it will be very effectual, and I will take care to
have it done to purpose. Pray tell Bernage so, and that I think nothing can
be luckier for him, and that I would have him go by all means. I will order
it that the Duke shall send for him when they are in Spain; or, if he fails,
that he shall receive him kindly when he goes to wait on him. Can I do more?
Is not this a great deal?--I now send away this letter, that you may not
stay.--I dined with Ford upon his Opera-day, and am now come home, and am
going to study; do not you presume to guess, sirrahs, impudent saucy dear
boxes. Towards the end of a letter I could not say saucy boxes without
putting dear between. An't that right now? Farewell. THIS should BE longer,
BUT that _I_ send IT to-night.[20]
O silly, silly loggerhead!
I send a letter this post to one Mr. Staunton, and I direct it to Mr. Acton's
in St. Michael's Lane. He formerly lodged there, but he has not told me where
to direct. Pray send to that Acton, whether[21] the letter is come there, and
whether he has sent it to Staunton.
If Bernage designs to sell his commission and stay at home, pray let him tell
me so, that my recommendation to the Duke of Argyle may not be in vain.
LETTER 16.
LONDON, Feb. 10, 1710-11.
I have just despatched my fifteenth to the post; I tell you how things will
be, after I have got a letter from MD. I am in furious haste to finish mine,
for fear of having two of MD's to answer in one of Presto's, which would be
such a disgrace, never saw the like; but, before you write to me, I write at
my leisure, like a gentleman, a little every day, just to let you know how
matters go, and so and so; and I hope before this comes to you, you'll have
got your box and chocolate, and Presto will take more care another time.
11. Morning. I must rise and go see my Lord Keeper,[1] which will cost me
two shillings in coach-hire. Don't you call them two thirteens?[2]--At night.
It has rained all day, and there was no walking. I read prayers to Sir Andrew
Fountaine in the forenoon, and I dined with three Irishmen, at one Mr.
Cope's[3] lodgings; the other two were one Morris an archdeacon,[4] and Mr.
Ford. When I came home this evening, I expected that little jackanapes
Harrison would have come to get help about his Tatler for Tuesday: I have
fixed two evenings in the week which I allow him to come. The toad never
came, and I expecting him fell a reading, and left off other business.--Come,
what are you doing? How do you pass your time this ugly weather? Gaming and
drinking, I suppose: fine diversions for young ladies, truly! I wish you had
some of our Seville oranges, and we some of your wine. We have the finest
oranges for twopence apiece, and the basest wine for six shillings a bottle.
They tell me wine grows cheap with you. I am resolved to have half a hogshead
when I get to Ireland, if it be good and cheap, as it used to be; and I will
treat MD at my table in an evening, oh hoa, and laugh at great Ministers of
State.
12. The days are grown fine and long, ----- be thanked. O, faith, you forget
all our little sayings, and I am angry. I dined to-day with Mr. Secretary St.
John: I went to the Court of Requests at noon, and sent Mr. Harley into the
House to call the Secretary, to let him know I would not dine with him if he
dined late. By good luck the Duke of Argyle was at the lobby of the House
too, and I kept him in talk till the Secretary came out; then told them I was
glad to meet them together, and that I had a request to the Duke, which the
Secretary must second, and his Grace must grant. The Duke said he was sure it
was something insignificant, and wished it was ten times greater. At the
Secretary's house I writ a memorial, and gave it to the Secretary to give the
Duke, and shall see that he does it. It is, that his Grace will please to
take Mr. Bernage into his protection; and if he finds Bernage answers my
character, to give him all encouragement. Colonel Masham[5] and Colonel
Hill[6] (Mrs. Masham's[7] brother tell me my request is reasonable, and they
will second it heartily to the Duke too: so I reckon Bernage is on a very
good foot when he goes to Spain. Pray tell him this, though perhaps I will
write to him before he goes; yet where shall I direct? for I suppose he has
left Connolly's.[8]
13. I have left off Lady Kerry's bitter, and got another box of pills. I
have no fits of giddiness, but only some little disorders towards it; and I
walk as much as I can. Lady Kerry is just as I am, only a great deal worse:
I dined to-day at Lord Shelburne's, where she is, and we con ailments, which
makes us very fond of each other. I have taken Mr. Harley into favour again,
and called to see him, but he was not within; I will use to visit him after
dinner, for he dines too late for my head: then I went to visit poor
Congreve, who is just getting out of a severe fit of the gout; and I sat with
him till near nine o'clock. He gave me a Tatler[9] he had written out, as
blind as he is, for little Harrison. It is about a scoundrel that was grown
rich, and went and bought a coat of arms at the Herald's, and a set of
ancestors at Fleet Ditch; 'tis well enough, and shall be printed in two or
three days, and if you read those kind of things, this will divert you. It is
now between ten and eleven, and I am going to bed.
14. This was Mrs. Vanhomrigh's daughter's[10] birthday, and Mr. Ford and I
were invited to dinner to keep it, and we spent the evening there, drinking
punch. That was our way of beginning Lent; and in the morning Lord Shelburne,
Lady Kerry, Mrs. Pratt, and I, went to Hyde Park, instead of going to church;
for, till my head is a little settled, I think it better not to go; it would
be so silly and troublesome to go out sick. Dr. Duke[11] died suddenly two or
three nights ago; he was one of the wits when we were children, but turned
parson, and left it, and never writ farther than a prologue or recommendatory
copy of verses. He had a fine living given him by the Bishop of
Winchester[12] about three months ago; he got his living suddenly, and he got
his dying so too.
15. I walked purely to-day about the Park, the rain being just over, of which
we have had a great deal, mixed with little short frosts. I went to the Court
of Requests, thinking, if Mr. Harley dined early, to go with him. But meeting
Leigh and Sterne, they invited me to dine with them, and away we went. When
we got into his room, one H----, a worthless Irish fellow, was there, ready to
dine with us; so I stepped out, and whispered them, that I would not dine with
that fellow: they made excuses, and begged me to stay; but away I went to Mr.
Harley's, and he did not dine at home; and at last I dined at Sir John
Germaine's,[13] and found Lady Betty but just recovered of a miscarriage. I
am writing an inscription for Lord Berkeley's[14] tomb; you know the young
rake his son, the new Earl, is married to the Duke of Richmond's daughter,[15]
at the Duke's country house, and are now coming to town. She will be fluxed
in two months, and they'll be parted in a year. You ladies are brave, bold,
venturesome folks; and the chit is but seventeen, and is ill-natured,
covetous, vicious, and proud in extremes. And so get you gone to Stoyte to-
morrow.
16. Faith, this letter goes on but slow; 'tis a week old, and the first side
not written. I went to-day into the City for a walk, but the person I
designed to dine with was not at home; so I came back, and called at
Congreve's, and dined with him and Estcourt,[16] and laughed till six; then
went to Mr. Harley's, who was not gone to dinner; there I stayed till nine,
and we made up our quarrel, and he has invited me to dinner to-morrow, which
is the day of the week (Saturday) that Lord Keeper and Secretary St. John dine
with him privately, and at last they have consented to let me among them on
that day. Atterbury and Prior went to bury poor Dr. Duke. Congreve's nasty
white wine has given me the heart-burn.
17. I took some good walks in the Park to-day, and then went to Mr. Harley.
Lord Rivers was got there before me, and I chid him for presuming to come on a
day when only Lord Keeper and the Secretary and I were to be there; but he
regarded me not; so we all dined together, and sat down at four; and the
Secretary has invited me to dine with him to-morrow. I told them I had no
hopes they could ever keep in, but that I saw they loved one another so well,
as indeed they seem to do. They call me nothing but Jonathan; and I said I
believed they would leave me Jonathan as they found me; and that I never knew
a Ministry do anything for those whom they make companions of their pleasures;
and I believe you will find it so; but I care not. I am upon a project of
getting five hundred pounds,[17] without being obliged to anybody; but that is
a secret, till I see my dearest MD; and so hold your tongue, and do not talk,
sirrahs, for I am now about it.
18. My head has no fits, but a little disordered before dinner; yet I walk
stoutly, and take pills, and hope to mend. Secretary St. John would needs
have me dine with him to-day; and there I found three persons I never saw, two
I had no acquaintance with, and one I did not care for: so I left them early
and came home, it being no day to walk, but scurvy rain and wind. The
Secretary tells me he has put a cheat on me; for Lord Peterborow sent him
twelve dozen flasks of burgundy, on condition that I should have my share; but
he never was quiet till they were all gone, so I reckon he owes me thirty-six
pounds. Lord Peterborow is now got to Vienna, and I must write to him to-
morrow. I begin now to be towards looking for a letter from some certain
ladies of Presto's acquaintance, that live at St. Mary's,[18] and are called
in a certain language, our little MD. No, stay, I don't expect one these six
days, that will be just three weeks; an't I a reasonable creature? We are
plagued here with an October Club, that is, a set of above a hundred
Parliament men of the country, who drink October beer at home, and meet every
evening at a tavern near the Parliament to consult affairs, and drive things
on to extremes against the Whigs, to call the old Ministry to account, and get
off five or six heads.[19] The Ministry seem not to regard them; yet one of
them in confidence told me that there must be something thought on, to settle
things better. I'll tell you one great State secret: the Queen, sensible how
much she was governed by the late Ministry, runs a little into t'other
extreme, and is jealous in that point, even of those who got her out of the
others' hands. The Ministry is for gentler measures, and the other Tories for
more violent. Lord Rivers, talking to me the other day, cursed the paper
called the Examiner, for speaking civilly of the Duke of Marlborough; this I
happened to talk of to the Secretary, who blamed the warmth of that lord and
some others, and swore that if their advice were followed they would be blown
up in twenty-four hours. And I have reason to think that they will endeavour
to prevail on the Queen to put her affairs more in the hands of a Ministry
than she does at present; and there are, I believe, two men thought on, one of
them you have often met the name of in my letters. But so much for politics.
19. This proved a terrible rainy day, which prevented my walk into the City,
and I was only able to run and dine with my neighbour Vanhomrigh, where Sir
Andrew Fountaine dined too, who has just began to sally out, and has shipped
his mother and sister, who were his nurses, back to the country. This evening
was fair, and I walked a little in the Park, till Prior made me go with him to
the Smyrna Coffee-house, where I sat a while, and saw four or five Irish
persons, who are very handsome, genteel fellows; but I know not their names.
I came away at seven, and got home. Two days ago I writ to Bernage, and told
him what I had done, and directed the letter to Mr. Curry's, to be left with
Dingley. Brigadiers Hill and Masham, brother and husband to Mrs. Masham, the
Queen's favourite, Colonel Disney,[20] and I, have recommended Bernage to the
Duke of Argyle; and Secretary St. John has given the Duke my memorial; and,
besides, Hill tells me, that Bernage's colonel, Fielding,[21] designs to make
him his captain-lieutenant: but I believe I said this to you before, and in
this letter; but I will not look.
20. Morning. It snows terribly again; and 'tis mistaken, for I now want a
little good weather. I bid you good-morrow; and, if it clear up, get you gone
to poor Mrs. Walls, who has had a hard time of it, but is now pretty well
again. I am sorry it is a girl: the poor Archdeacon too, see how simply he
looked when they told him: what did it cost Stella to be gossip? I'll rise;
so, d'ye hear, let me see you at night; and do not stay late out, and catch
cold, sirrahs.--At night. It grew good weather, and I got a good walk, and
dined with Ford upon his Opera-day; but, now all his wine is gone, I shall
dine with him no more. I hope to send this letter before I hear from MD,
methinks there is--something great in doing so, only I can't express where it
lies; and, faith, this shall go by Saturday, as sure as you're a rogue. Mrs.
Edgworth was to set out but last Monday; so you won't have your box so soon
perhaps as this letter; but Sterne told me since that it is safe at Chester,
and that she will take care of it. I'd give a guinea you had it.
21. Morning. Faith, I hope it will be fair for me to walk into the City; for
I take all occasions of walking.--I should be plaguy busy at Laracor if I were
there now, cutting down willows, planting others, scouring my canal, and every
kind of thing. If Raymond goes over this summer, you must submit, and make
them a visit, that we may have another eel and trout fishing; and that Stella
may ride by, and see Presto in his morning-gown in the garden, and so go up
with Joe to the Hill of Bree, and round by Scurlock's Town. O Lord, how I
remember names! faith, it gives me short sighs; therefore no more of that, if
you love me. Good-morrow, I will go rise like a gentleman; my pills say I
must.--At night. Lady Kerry sent to desire me to engage some lords about an
affair she has in their house here: I called to see her, but found she had
already engaged every lord I knew, and that there was no great difficulty in
the matter; and it rained like a dog; so I took coach, for want of better
exercise, and dined privately with a hang-dog in the City, and walked back in
the evening. The days are now long enough to walk in the Park after dinner;
and so I do whenever it is fair. This walking is a strange remedy: Mr. Prior
walks, to make himself fat, and I to bring myself down; he has generally a
cough, which he only calls a cold; we often walk round the Park together. So
I'll go sleep.
22. It snowed all this morning prodigiously, and was some inches thick in
three or four hours. I dined with Mr. Lewis of the Secretary's office at his
lodgings: the chairmen that carried me squeezed a great fellow against a
wall, who wisely turned his back, and broke one of the side-glasses in a
thousand pieces. I fell a scolding, pretended I was like to be cut to pieces,
and made them set down the chair in the Park, while they picked out the bits
of glasses; and, when I paid them, I quarrelled still; so they dared not
grumble, and I came off for my fare; but I was plaguily afraid they would have
said, "God bless your honour, won't you give us something for our glass?"
Lewis and I were forming a project how I might get three or four hundred
pounds,[22] which I suppose may come to nothing. I hope Smyth has brought you
your palsy-drops. How does Stella do? I begin more and more to desire to
know. The three weeks since I had your last is over within two days, and I
will allow three for accidents.
23. The snow is gone every bit, except the remainder of some great balls made
by the boys. Mr. Sterne was with me this morning about an affair he has
before the Treasury. That drab Mrs. Edgworth is not yet set out, but will
infallibly next Monday: and this is the third infallible Monday, and pox take
her! So you will have this letter first; and this shall go to-morrow; and, if
I have one from MD in that time, I will not answer it till my next; only I
will say, "Madam, I received your letter, and so, and so." I dined to-day
with my Mistress Butler,[23] who grows very disagreeable.
24. Morning. This letter certainly goes this evening, sure as you're alive,
young women, and then you will be so shamed that I have had none from you;
and, if I was to reckon like you, I would say, I were six letters before you,
for this is N.16, and I have had your N.10. But I reckon you have received
but fourteen, and have sent eleven. I think to go to-day a Minister-of-State-
hunting in the Court of Requests; for I have something to say to Mr. Harley.
And it is fine, cold, sunshiny weather; I wish dear MD would walk this morning
in your Stephen's Green; 'tis as good as our Park, but not so large.[24]
Faith, this summer we'll take a coach for sixpence[25] to the Green Well, the
two walks, and thence all the way to Stoyte's.[26] My hearty service to Goody
Stoyte and Catherine; and I hope Mrs. Walls had a good time. How inconstant I
am! I can't imagine I was ever in love with her. Well, I'm going; what have
you to say? I DO NOT CARE HOW I WRITE NOW.[27] I don't design to write on
this side; these few lines are but so much more than your due; so I will write
LARGE or small as I please. O, faith, my hands are starving in bed; I believe
it is a hard frost. I must rise, and bid you good-bye, for I'll seal this
letter immediately, and carry it in my pocket, and put it into the post-office
with my own fair hands. Farewell.
This letter is just a fortnight's journal to-day. Yes, and so it is, I'm
sure, says you, with your two eggs a penny.
Lele, lele, lele.[28]
O Lord, I am saying lele, lele, to myself, in all our little keys: and, now
you talk of keys, that dog Patrick broke the key-general of the chest of
drawers with six locks, and I have been so plagued to get a new one, besides
my good two shillings!
LETTER 17.
LONDON, Feb. 24, 1710-11.
Now, young women, I gave in my sixteenth this evening. I dined with Ford (it
was his Opera-day) as usual; it is very convenient to me to do so, for coming
home early after a walk in the Park, which now the days will allow. I called
on the Secretary at his office, and he had forgot to give the memorial about
Bernage to the Duke of Argyle; but, two days ago, I met the Duke, who desired
I would give it him myself, which should have more power with him than all the
Ministry together, as he protested solemnly, repeated it two or three times,
and bid me count upon it. So that I verily believe Bernage will be in a very
good way to establish himself. I think I can do no more for him at present,
and there's an end of that; and so get you gone to bed, for it is late.
25. The three weeks are out yesterday since I had your last, and so now I
will be expecting every day a pretty dear letter from my own MD, and hope to
hear that Stella has been much better in her head and eyes: my head continues
as it was, no fits, but a little disorder every day, which I can easily bear,
if it will not grow worse. I dined to-day with Mr. Secretary St. John, on
condition I might choose my company, which were Lord Rivers, Lord Carteret,
Sir Thomas Mansel,[1] and Mr. Lewis; I invited Masham, Hill, Sir John Stanley,
and George Granville, but they were engaged; and I did it in revenge of his
having such bad company when I dined with him before; so we laughed, etc. And
I ventured to go to church to-day, which I have not done this month before.
Can you send me such a good account of Stella's health, pray now? Yes, I
hope, and better too. We dined (says you) at the Dean's, and played at cards
till twelve, and there came in Mr. French, and Dr. Travors, and Dr.
Whittingham, and Mr. (I forget his name, that I always tell Mrs. Walls of) the
banker's son, a pox on him. And we were so merry; I vow they are pure good
company. But I lost a crown; for you must know I had always hands tempting me
to go out, but never took in anything, and often two black aces without a
manilio; was not that hard, Presto? Hold your tongue, etc.
26. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary about some business, and he tells
me that Colonel Fielding is now going to make Bernage his captain-lieutenant,
that is, a captain by commission, and the perquisites of the company; but not
captain's pay, only the first step to it. I suppose he will like it; and the
recommendation to the Duke of Argyle goes on. And so trouble me no more about
your Bernage; the jackanapes understands what fair solicitors he has got, I
warrant you. Sir Andrew Fountaine and I dined, by invitation, with Mrs.
Vanhomrigh. You say they are of no consequence: why, they keep as good
female company as I do male; I see all the drabs of quality at this end of the
town with them: I saw two Lady Bettys[2] there this afternoon; the beauty of
one, the good-breeding and nature of t'other, and the wit of neither, would
have made a fine woman. Rare walking in the Park now: why don't you walk in
the Green of St. Stephen? The walks there are finer gravelled than the Mall.
What beasts the Irish women are, never to walk!
27. Darteneuf and I, and little Harrison the new Tatler, and Jervas the
painter, dined to-day with James,[3] I know not his other name, but it is one
of Darteneuf's dining-places, who is a true epicure. James is clerk of the
kitchen to the Queen, and has a little snug house at St. James's; and we had
the Queen's wine, and such very fine victuals that I could not eat it. Three
weeks and three days since my last letter from MD; rare doings! why, truly we
were so busy with poor Mrs. Walls, that indeed, Presto, we could not write, we
were afraid the poor woman would have died; and it pitied us to see the
Archdeacon, how concerned he was. The Dean never came to see her but once;
but now she is up again, and we go and sit with her in the evenings. The
child died the next day after it was born; and I believe, between friends, she
is not very sorry for it.--Indeed, Presto, you are plaguy silly tonight, and
han't guessed one word right; for she and the child are both well, and it is a
fine girl, likely to live; and the Dean was godfather, and Mrs. Catherine and
I were godmothers; I was going to say Stoyte, but I think I have heard they
don't put maids and married women together; though I know not why I think so,
nor I don't care; what care I? but I must prate, etc.
28. I walked to-day into the City for my health, and there dined; which I
always do when the weather is fair, and business permits, that I may be under
a necessity of taking a good walk, which is the best thing I can do at present
for my health. Some bookseller has raked up everything I writ, and published
it t'other day in one volume; but I know nothing of it, 'twas without my
knowledge or consent: it makes a four-shilling book, and is called
Miscellanies in Prose and Verse.[4] Tooke pretends he knows nothing of it;
but I doubt he is at the bottom. One must have patience with these things;
the best of it is, I shall be plagued no more. However, I will bring a couple
of them over with me for MD; perhaps you may desire to see them. I hear they
sell mightily.
March 1. Morning. I have been calling to Patrick to look in his almanac for
the day of the month; I did not know but it might be leap-year. The almanac
says 'tis the third after leap-year; and I always thought till now, that every
third year was leap-year. I am glad they come so seldom; but I'm sure 'twas
otherwise when I was a young man; I see times are mightily changed since
then.--Write to me, sirrahs; be sure do by the time this side is done, and
I'll keep t'other side for the answer: so I'll go write to the Bishop of
Clogher; good-morrow, sirrahs.--Night. I dined to-day at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's,
being a rainy day; and Lady Betty Butler, knowing it, sent to let me know she
expected my company in the evening, where the Vans (so we call them) were to
be. The Duchess[5] and they do not go over this summer with the Duke; so I go
to bed.
2. This rainy weather undoes me in coaches and chairs. I was traipsing to-
day with your Mr. Sterne, to go along with them to Moore,[6] and recommend his
business to the Treasury. Sterne tells me his dependence is wholly on me; but
I have absolutely refused to recommend it to Mr. Harley, because I have
troubled him lately so much with other folks' affairs; and besides, to tell
the truth, Mr. Harley told me he did not like Sterne's business: however, I
will serve him, because I suppose MD would have me. But, in saying his
dependence lies wholly on me, he lies, and is a fool. I dined with Lord
Abercorn, whose son Peasley[7] will be married at Easter to ten thousand
pounds.
3. I forgot to tell you that yesterday morning I was at Mr. Harley's levee:
he swore I came in spite, to see him among a parcel of fools. My business was
to desire I might let the Duke of Ormond know how the affair stood of the
First-Fruits. He promised to let him know it, and engaged me to dine with him
to-day. Every Saturday, Lord Keeper, Secretary St. John, and I dine with him,
and sometimes Lord Rivers; and they let in none else. Patrick brought me some
letters into the Park; among which one was from Walls; and t'other, yes,
faith, t'other was from our little MD, N.11. I read the rest in the Park, and
MD's in a chair as I went from St. James's to Mr. Harley; and glad enough I
was, faith, to read it, and see all right. Oh, but I won't answer it these
three or four days at least, or may be sooner. An't I silly? faith, your
letters would make a dog silly, if I had a dog to be silly, but it must be a
little dog.--I stayed with Mr. Harley till past nine, where we had much
discourse together after the rest were gone; and I gave him very truly my
opinion where he desired it. He complained he was not very well, and has
engaged me to dine with him again on Monday. So I came home afoot, like a
fine gentleman, to tell you all this.
4. I dined to-day with Mr. Secretary St. John; and after dinner he had a note
from Mr. Harley, that he was much out of order.[8] Pray God preserve his
health! everything depends upon it. The Parliament at present cannot go a
step without him, nor the Queen neither. I long to be in Ireland; but the
Ministry beg me to stay: however, when this Parliament lurry[9] is over, I
will endeavour to steal away; by which time I hope the First-Fruit business
will be done. This kingdom is certainly ruined as much as was ever any
bankrupt merchant. We must have peace, let it be a bad or a good one, though
nobody dares talk of it. The nearer I look upon things, the worse I like
them. I believe the confederacy will soon break to pieces, and our factions
at home increase. The Ministry is upon a very narrow bottom, and stand like
an isthmus, between the Whigs on one side, and violent Tories on the other.
They are able seamen; but the tempest is too great, the ship too rotten, and
the crew all against them. Lord Somers has been twice in the Queen's closet,
once very lately; and your Duchess of Somerset,[10] who now has the key, is a
most insinuating woman; and I believe they will endeavour to play the same
game that has been played against them.--I have told them of all this, which
they know already, but they cannot help it. They have cautioned the Queen so
much against being governed, that she observes it too much. I could talk till
to-morrow upon these things, but they make me melancholy. I could not but
observe that lately, after much conversation with Mr. Harley, though he is the
most fearless man alive, and the least apt to despond, he confessed to me that
uttering his mind to me gave him ease.
