LETTER 7.
LONDON, Oct. 19, 1710.
Faith, I am undone! this paper is larger than the other, and yet I am
condemned to a sheet; but, since it is MD, I did not value though I were
condemned to a pair. I told you in my letter to-day where I had been, and how
the day passed; and so, etc.
20. To-day I went to Mr. Lewis, at the Secretary's office, to know when I
might see Mr. Harley; and by and by comes up Mr. Harley himself, and appoints
me to dine with him to-morrow. I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh,[1] and went to
wait on the two Lady Butlers;[2] but the porter answered they were not at
home: the meaning was, the youngest, Lady Mary, is to be married to-morrow to
Lord Ashburnham,[3] the best match now in England, twelve thousand pounds a
year, and abundance of money. Tell me how my "Shower" is liked in Ireland: I
never knew anything pass better here. I spent the evening with Wortley
Montagu[4] and Mr. Addison, over a bottle of Irish wine. Do they know
anything in Ireland of my greatness among the Tories? Everybody reproaches me
of it here; but I value them not. Have you heard of the verses about the "Rod
of Sid Hamet"? Say nothing of them for your life. Hardly anybody suspects me
for them; only they think nobody but Prior or I could write them. But I doubt
they have not reached you. There is likewise a ballad full of puns on the
Westminster Election,[5] that cost me half an hour: it runs, though it be
good for nothing. But this is likewise a secret to all but MD. If you have
them not, I will bring them over.
21. I got MD's fourth to-day at the Coffee-house. God Almighty bless poor,
dear Stella, and her eyes and head! What shall we do to cure them? poor, dear
life! Your disorders are a pull-back for your good qualities. Would to
Heaven I were this minute shaving your poor, dear head, either here or there!
Pray do not write, nor read this letter, nor anything else; and I will write
plainer for Dingley to read from henceforward, though my pen is apt to ramble
when I think whom I am writing to. I will not answer your letter until I tell
you that I dined this day with Mr. Harley, who presented me to the Earl of
Stirling,[6] a Scotch lord; and in the evening came in Lord Peterborow. I
stayed till nine before Mr. Harley would let me go, or tell me anything of my
affair. He says the Queen has now granted the First-Fruits and Twentieth
Parts; but he will not give me leave to write to the Archbishop, because the
Queen designs to signify it to the Bishops in Ireland in form; and to take
notice, that it was done upon a memorial from me; which, Mr. Harley tells me
he does to make it look more respectful to me, etc.; and I am to see him on
Tuesday. I know not whether I told you that, in my memorial which was given
to the Queen, I begged for two thousand pounds a year more, though it was not
in my commission; but that, Mr. Harley says, cannot yet be done, and that he
and I must talk of it further: however, I have started it, and it may follow
in time. Pray say nothing of the First-Fruits being granted, unless I give
leave at the bottom of this. I believe never anything was compassed so soon,
and purely done by my personal credit with Mr. Harley, who is so excessively
obliging, that I know not what to make of it, unless to show the rascals of
the other party that they used a man unworthily who had deserved better. The
memorial given to the Queen from me speaks with great plainness of Lord
Wharton. I believe this business is as important to you as the Convocation
disputes from Tisdall.[7] I hope in a month or two all the forms of settling
this matter will be over; and then I shall have nothing to do here. I will
only add one foolish thing more, because it is just come into my head. When
this thing is made known, tell me impartially whether they give any of the
merit to me, or no; for I am sure I have so much, that I will never take it
upon me.--Insolent sluts! because I say Dublin, Ireland, therefore you must
say London, England: that is Stella's malice.--Well, for that I will not
answer your letter till to-morrow-day, and so and so: I will go write
something else, and it will not be much; for 'tis late.
22. I was this morning with Mr. Lewis, the under-secretary to Lord Dartmouth,
two hours, talking politics, and contriving to keep Steele in his office of
stamped paper: he has lost his place of Gazetteer, three hundred pounds a
year, for writing a Tatler,[8] some months ago, against Mr. Harley, who gave
it him at first, and raised the salary from sixty to three hundred pounds.
This was devilish ungrateful; and Lewis was telling me the particulars: but I
had a hint given me, that I might save him in the other employment: and leave
was given me to clear matters with Steele. Well, I dined with Sir Matthew
Dudley, and in the evening went to sit with Mr. Addison, and offer the matter
at distance to him, as the discreeter person; but found party had so possessed
him, that he talked as if he suspected me, and would not fall in with anything
I said. So I stopped short in my overture, and we parted very drily; and I
shall say nothing to Steele, and let them do as they will; but, if things
stand as they are, he will certainly lose it, unless I save him; and therefore
I will not speak to him, that I may not report to his disadvantage. Is not
this vexatious? and is there so much in the proverb of proffered service?
When shall I grow wise? I endeavour to act in the most exact points of honour
and conscience; and my nearest friends will not understand it so. What must a
man expect from his enemies? This would vex me, but it shall not; and so I
bid you good-night, etc.
23. I know 'tis neither wit nor diversion to tell you every day where I dine;
neither do I write it to fill my letter; but I fancy I shall, some time or
other, have the curiosity of seeing some particulars how I passed my life when
I was absent from MD this time; and so I tell you now that I dined to-day at
Molesworth's, the Florence Envoy, then went to the Coffee-house, where I
behaved myself coldly enough to Mr. Addison, and so came home to scribble. We
dine together to-morrow and next day by invitation; but I shall alter my
behaviour to him, till he begs my pardon, or else we shall grow bare
acquaintance. I am weary of friends; and friendships are all monsters, but
MD's.
24. I forgot to tell you, that last night I went to Mr. Harley's, hoping--
faith, I am blundering, for it was this very night at six; and I hoped he
would have told me all things were done and granted: but he was abroad, and
came home ill, and was gone to bed, much out of order, unless the porter lied.
I dined to-day at Sir Matthew Dudley's, with Mr. Addison, etc.
25. I was to-day to see the Duke of Ormond; and, coming out, met Lord
Berkeley of Stratton,[9] who told me that Mrs. Temple,[10] the widow, died
last Saturday, which, I suppose, is much to the outward grief and inward joy
of the family. I dined to-day with Addison and Steele, and a sister of Mr.
Addison, who is married to one Mons. Sartre,[11] a Frenchman, prebendary of
Westminster, who has a delicious house and garden; yet I thought it was a sort
of monastic life in those cloisters, and I liked Laracor better. Addison's
sister is a sort of a wit, very like him. I am not fond of her, etc.
26. I was to-day to see Mr. Congreve,[12] who is almost blind with cataracts
growing on his eyes; and his case is, that he must wait two or three years,
until the cataracts are riper, and till he is quite blind, and then he must
have them couched; and, besides, he is never rid of the gout, yet he looks
young and fresh, and is as cheerful as ever. He is younger by three years or
more than I; and I am twenty years younger than he. He gave me a pain in the
great toe, by mentioning the gout. I find such suspicions frequently, but
they go off again. I had a second letter from Mr. Morgan,[13] for which I
thank you: I wish you were whipped, for forgetting to send him that answer I
desired you in one of my former, that I could do nothing for him of what he
desired, having no credit at all, etc. Go, be far enough, you negligent
baggages. I have had also a letter from Parvisol, with an account how my
livings are set; and that they are fallen, since last year, sixty pounds. A
comfortable piece of news! He tells me plainly that he finds you have no mind
to part with the horse, because you sent for him at the same time you sent him
my letter; so that I know not what must be done. It is a sad thing that
Stella must have her own horse, whether Parvisol will or no. So now to answer
your letter that I had three or four days ago. I am not now in bed, but am
come home by eight; and, it being warm, I write up. I never writ to the
Bishop of Killala, which, I suppose, was the reason he had not my letter. I
have not time, there is the short of it.--As fond as the Dean[14] is of my
letter, he has not written to me. I would only know whether Dean Bolton[15]
paid him the twenty pounds; and for the rest, he may kiss--And that you may
ask him, because I am in pain about it, that Dean Bolton is such a whipster.
'Tis the most obliging thing in the world in Dean Sterne to be so kind to you.
I believe he knows it will please me, and makes up, that way, his other
usage.[16] No, we have had none of your snow, but a little one morning; yet I
think it was great snow for an hour or so, but no longer. I had heard of Will
Crowe's[17] death before, but not the foolish circumstance that hastened his
end. No, I have taken care that Captain Pratt[18] shall not suffer by Lord
Anglesea's death.[19] I will try some contrivance to get a copy of my picture
from Jervas. I will make Sir Andrew Fountaine buy one as for himself, and I
will pay him again, and take it, that is, provided I have money to spare when
I leave this.--Poor John! is he gone? and Madam Parvisol[20] has been in town!
Humm. Why, Tighe[21] and I, when he comes, shall not take any notice of each
other; I would not do it much in this town, though we had not fallen out.--I
was to-day at Mr. Sterne's lodging: he was not within; and Mr. Leigh is not
come to town; but I will do Dingley's errand when I see him. What do I know
whether china be dear or no? I once took a fancy of resolving to grow mad for
it, but now it is off; I suppose I told you in some former letter. And so you
only want some salad-dishes, and plates, and etc. Yes, yes, you shall. I
suppose you have named as much as will cost five pounds.--Now to Stella's
little postscript; and I am almost crazed that you vex yourself for not
writing. Cannot you dictate to Dingley, and not strain your little, dear
eyes? I am sure it is the grief of my soul to think you are out of order.
Pray be quiet; and, if you will write, shut your eyes, and write just a line,
and no more, thus, "How do you do, Mrs. Stella?" That was written with my
eyes shut. Faith, I think it is better than when they are open: and then
Dingley may stand by, and tell you when you go too high or too low.--My
letters of business, with packets, if there be any more occasion for such,
must be enclosed to Mr. Addison, at St. James's Coffee-house: but I hope to
hear, as soon as I see Mr. Harley, that the main difficulties are over, and
that the rest will be but form.--Take two or three nutgalls, take two or three
---galls, stop your receipt in your--I have no need on't. Here is a clutter!
Well, so much for your letter, which I will now put up in my letter-partition
in my cabinet, as I always do every letter as soon as I answer it. Method is
good in all things. Order governs the world. The Devil is the author of
confusion. A general of an army, a minister of state; to descend lower, a
gardener, a weaver, etc. That may make a fine observation, if you think it
worth finishing; but I have not time. Is not this a terrible long piece for
one evening? I dined to-day with Patty Rolt at my cousin Leach's,[22] with a
pox, in the City: he is a printer, and prints the Postman, oh hoo, and is my
cousin, God knows how, and he married Mrs. Baby Aires of Leicester; and my
cousin Thomson was with us: and my cousin Leach offers to bring me acquainted
with the author of the Postman;[23] and says he does not doubt but the
gentleman will be glad of my acquaintance; and that he is a very ingenious
man, and a great scholar, and has been beyond sea. But I was modest and said,
may be the gentleman was shy, and not fond of new acquaintance; and so put it
off: and I wish you could hear me repeating all I have said of this in its
proper tone, just as I am writing it. It is all with the same cadence with
"Oh hoo," or as when little girls say, "I have got an apple, miss, and I won't
give you some." It is plaguy twelvepenny weather this last week, and has cost
me ten shillings in coach and chair hire. If the fellow that has your money
will pay it, let me beg you to buy Bank Stock with it, which is fallen near
thirty per cent. and pays eight pounds per cent. and you have the principal
when you please: it will certainly soon rise. I would to God Lady Giffard
would put in the four hundred pounds she owes you,[24] and take the five per
cent. common interest, and give you the remainder. I will speak to your
mother about it when I see her. I am resolved to buy three hundred pounds of
it for myself, and take up what I have in Ireland; and I have a contrivance
for it, that I hope will do, by making a friend of mine buy it as for himself,
and I will pay him when I can get in my money. I hope Stratford will do me
that kindness. I'll ask him tomorrow or next day.
27. Mr. Rowe[25] the poet desired me to dine with him to-day. I went to his
office (he is under-secretary in Mr. Addison's place that he had in England),
and there was Mr. Prior; and they both fell commending my "Shower" beyond
anything that has been written of the kind: there never was such a "Shower"
since Danae's, etc. You must tell me how it is liked among you. I dined with
Rowe; Prior could not come: and after dinner we went to a blind tavern,[26]
where Congreve, Sir Richard Temple,[27] Estcourt,[28] and Charles Main,[29]
were over a bowl of bad punch. The knight sent for six flasks of his own wine
for me, and we stayed till twelve. But now my head continues pretty well; I
have left off my drinking, and only take a spoonful mixed with water, for fear
of the gout, or some ugly distemper; and now, because it is late, I will, etc.
28. Garth and Addison and I dined to-day at a hedge[30] tavern; then I went
to Mr. Harley, but he was denied, or not at home: so I fear I shall not hear
my business is done before this goes. Then I visited Lord Pembroke,[31] who
is just come to town; and we were very merry talking of old things; and I hit
him with one pun. Then I went to see the Ladies Butler, and the son of a
whore of a porter denied them: so I sent them a threatening message by
another lady, for not excepting me always to the porter. I was weary of the
Coffee-house, and Ford[32] desired me to sit with him at next door; which I
did, like a fool, chatting till twelve, and now am got into bed. I am afraid
the new Ministry is at a terrible loss about money: the Whigs talk so, it
would give one the spleen; and I am afraid of meeting Mr. Harley out of
humour. They think he will never carry through this undertaking. God knows
what will come of it. I should be terribly vexed to see things come round
again: it will ruin the Church and clergy for ever; but I hope for better. I
will send this on Tuesday, whether I hear any further news of my affair or
not.
29. Mr. Addison and I dined to-day with Lord Mountjoy; which is all the
adventures of this day.--I chatted a while to-night in the Coffee-house, this
being a full night; and now am come home, to write some business.
30. I dined to-day at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, and sent a letter to poor Mrs.
Long,[33] who writes to us, but is God knows where, and will not tell anybody
the place of her residence. I came home early, and must go write.
31. The month ends with a fine day; and I have been walking, and visiting
Lewis, and concerting where to see Mr. Harley. I have no news to send you.
Aire,[34] they say, is taken, though the Whitehall letters this morning say
quite the contrary: 'tis good, if it be true. I dined with Mr. Addison and
Dick Stewart, Lord Mountjoy's brother;[35] a treat of Addison's. They were
half-fuddled, but not I; for I mixed water with my wine, and left them
together between nine and ten; and I must send this by the bellman, which
vexes me, but I will put it off no longer. Pray God it does not miscarry. I
seldom do so; but I can put off little MD no longer. Pray give the under note
to Mrs. Brent.
I am a pretty gentleman; and you lose all your money at cards, sirrah Stella.
I found you out; I did so.
I am staying before I can fold up this letter, till that ugly D is dry in the
last line but one. Do not you see it? O Lord, I am loth to leave you, faith-
-but it must be so, till the next time. Pox take that D; I will blot it, to
dry it.
