LETTER 21.
LONDON, April 14, 1711.
Remember, sirrahs, that there are but nine days between the dates of my two
former letters. I sent away my twentieth this moment, and now am writing on
like a fish, as if nothing was done. But there was a cause for my hasting
away the last, for fear it should not come time enough before a new quarter
began. I told you where I dined to-day; but forgot to tell you what I
believe, that Mr. Harley will be Lord Treasurer in a short time, and other
great removes and promotions made. This is my thought, etc.
15. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary, and he is grown pretty well. I
dined with him to-day, and drank some of that wine which the Duke of Tuscany
used to send to Sir William Temple:[1] he always sends some to the chief
Ministers. I liked it mightily, but he does not; and he ordered his butler to
send me a chest of it to-morrow. Would to God MD had it! The Queen is well
again, and was at chapel to-day, etc.
16. I went with Ford into the City to-day, and dined with Stratford, and
drank Tokay, and then we went to the auction; but I did not lay out above
twelve shillings. My head is a little out of order to-night, though no formal
fit. My Lord Keeper has sent to invite me to dinner to-morrow, and you'll
dine better with the Dean; and God bless you. I forgot to tell you that
yesterday was sent me a Narrative printed, with all the circumstances of Mr.
Harley's stabbing. I had not time to do it myself; so I sent my hints to the
author of the Atalantis,[2] and she has cooked it into a sixpenny pamphlet, in
her own style, only the first page is left as I was beginning it. But I was
afraid of disobliging Mr. Harley or Mr. St. John in one critical point about
it, and so would not do it myself. It is worth your reading, for the
circumstances are all true. My chest of Florence was sent me this morning,
and cost me seven and sixpence to two servants. I would give two guineas you
had it, etc.
17. I was so out of order with my head this morning, that I was going to send
my excuses to my Lord Keeper; but however I got up at eleven, and walked there
after two, and stayed till eight. There was Sir Thomas Mansel, Prior, George
Granville, and Mr. Caesar,[3] and we were very merry. My head is still wrong,
but I have had no formal fit, only I totter a little. I have left off snuff
altogether. I have a noble roll of tobacco for grating, very good. Shall I
send it to MD, if she likes that sort? My Lord Keeper and our this day's
company are to dine on Saturday with George Granville, and to-morrow I dine
with Lord Anglesea.
18. Did you ever see such a blundering goosecap as Presto? I saw the number
21 at top, and so I went on as if it were the day of the month, whereas this
is but Wednesday the 18th. How shall I do to blot and alter them? I have
made a shift to do it behind, but it is a great botch. I dined with Lord
Anglesea to-day, but did not go to the House of Commons about the yarn; my
head was not well enough. I know not what is the matter; it has never been
thus before: two days together giddy from morning till night, but not with
any violence or pain; and I totter a little, but can make shift to walk. I
doubt I must fall to my pills again: I think of going into the country a
little way. I tell you what you must do henceforward: you must enclose your
letter in a fair half-sheet of paper, and direct the outside "To Erasmus
Lewis, Esquire, at my Lord Dartmouth's office at Whitehall": for I never go
to the Coffee-house, and they will grudge to take in my letters. I forgot to
tell you that your mother was to see me this morning, and brought me a flask
of sweet-water for a present, admirable for my head; but I shall not smell to
it. She is going to Sheen, with Lady Giffard: she would fain send your
papers over to you, or give them to me. Say what you would have done, and it
shall be done; because I love Stella, and she is a good daughter, they say,
and so is Dingley.
19. This morning General Webb was to give me a visit: he goes with a crutch
and stick, yet was forced to come up two pair of stairs. I promised to dine
with him, but afterwards sent my excuses, and dined privately in my friend
Lewis's lodgings at Whitehall, with whom I had much business to talk of,
relating to the public and myself. Little Harrison the Tatler goes to-morrow
to the secretaryship I got him at the Hague, and Mr. St. John has made him a
present of fifty guineas to bear his charges. An't I a good friend? Why are
not you a young fellow, that I might prefer you? I had a letter from Bernage
from Kinsale: he tells me his commission for captain-lieutenant was ready for
him at his arrival: so there are two jackanapeses I have done with. My head
is something better this evening, though not well.
20. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary, whose packets were just come in,
and among them a letter from Lord Peterborow to me: he writes so well, I have
no mind to answer him, and so kind, that I must answer him. The Emperor's[4]
death must, I think, cause great alterations in Europe, and, I believe, will
hasten a peace. We reckon our King Charles will be chosen Emperor, and the
Duke of Savoy set up for Spain; but I believe he will make nothing of it. Dr.
Freind and I dined in the City at a printer's, and it has cost me two
shillings in coach-hire, and a great deal more this week and month, which has
been almost all rain, with now and then sunshine, and is the truest April that
I have known these many years. The lime-trees in the Park are all out in
leaves, though not large leaves yet. Wise people are going into the country;
but many think the Parliament can hardly be up these six weeks. Mr. Harley
was with the Queen on Tuesday. I believe certainly he will be Lord Treasurer:
I have not seen him this week.
21. Morning. Lord Keeper, and I, and Prior, and Sir Thomas Mansel, have
appointed to dine this day with George Granville. My head, I thank God, is
better; but to be giddyish three or four days together mortified me. I take
no snuff, and I will be very regular in eating little and the gentlest meats.
How does poor Stella just now, with her deans and her Stoytes? Do they give
you health for the money you lose at ombre, sirrah? What say you to that?
Poor Dingley frets to see Stella lose that four and elevenpence, the other
night. Let us rise. Morrow, sirrahs. I will rise, spite of your little
teeth; good-morrow.--At night. O, faith, you are little dear saucyboxes. I
was just going in the morning to tell you that I began to want a letter from
MD, and in four minutes after Mr. Ford sends me one that he had picked up at
St. James's Coffee-house; for I go to no coffee-house at all. And, faith, I
was glad at heart to see it, and to see Stella so brisk. O Lord, what
pretending? Well, but I will not answer it yet; I'll keep it for t'other
side. Well, we dined to-day according to appointment: Lord Keeper went away
at near eight, I at eight, and I believe the rest will be fairly fuddled; for
young Harcourt,[5] Lord Keeper's son, began to prattle before I came away. It
will not do with Prior's lean carcass. I drink little, miss my glass often,
put water in my wine, and go away before the rest, which I take to be a good
receipt for sobriety. Let us put it into rhyme, and so make a proverb--
Drink little at a time;
Put water with your wine;
Miss your glass when you can;
And go off the first man.
God be thanked, I am much better than I was, though something of a totterer.
I ate but little to-day, and of the gentlest meat. I refused ham and pigeons,
pease-soup, stewed beef, cold salmon, because they were too strong. I take no
snuff at all, but some herb snuff prescribed by Dr. Radcliffe.
Go to your deans,
You couple of queans.
I believe I said that already. What care I? what cares Presto?
22. Morning. I must rise and go to the Secretary's. Mr. Harley has been out
of town this week to refresh himself before he comes into Parliament. Oh, but
I must rise, so there is no more to be said; and so morrow, sirrahs both.--
Night. I dined to-day with the Secretary, who has engaged me for every
Sunday; and I was an hour with him this morning deep in politics, where I told
him the objections of the October Club, and he answered all except one, that
no inquiries are made into past mismanagement. But indeed I believe they are
not yet able to make any: the late Ministry were too cunning in their
rogueries, and fenced themselves with an Act of general pardon. I believe Mr.
Harley must be Lord Treasurer; yet he makes one difficulty which is hard to
answer: he must be made a lord, and his estate is not large enough, and he is
too generous to make it larger; and if the Ministry should change soon by any
accident, he will be left in the suds. Another difficulty is, that if he be
made a peer, they will want him prodigiously in the House of Commons, of which
he is the great mover, and after him the Secretary, and hardly any else of
weight. Two shillings more to-day for coach and chair. I shall be ruined.
23. So you expect an answer to your letter, do you so? Yes, yes, you shall
have an answer, you shall, young women. I made a good pun on Saturday to my
Lord Keeper. After dinner we had coarse Doiley napkins,[6] fringed at each
end, upon the table, to drink with: my Lord Keeper spread one of them between
him and Mr. Prior; I told him I was glad to see there was such a fringeship
[friendship] between Mr. Prior and his lordship. Prior swore it was the worst
he ever heard: I said I thought so too; but at the same time I thought it was
most like one of Stella's that ever I heard. I dined to-day with Lord
Mountjoy, and this evening saw the Venetian Ambassador[7] coming from his
first public audience. His coach was the most monstrous, huge, fine, rich
gilt thing that ever I saw. I loitered this evening, and came home late.
24. I was this morning to visit the Duchess of Ormond,[8] who has long
desired it, or threatened she would not let me visit her daughters. I sat an
hour with her, and we were good company, when in came the Countess of
Bellamont,[9] with a pox. I went out, and we did not know one another; yet
hearing me named, she asked, "What, is that Dr. Swift?" said she and I were
very well acquainted, and fell a railing at me without mercy, as a lady told
me that was there; yet I never was but once in the company of that drab of a
Countess. Sir Andrew Fountaine and I dined with my neighbour Van. I design
in two days, if possible, to go lodge at Chelsea for the air, and put myself
under a necessity of walking to and from London every day. I writ this post
to the Bishop of Clogher a long politic letter, to entertain him. I am to buy
statues and harnese[10] for them, with a vengeance. I have packed and sealed
up MD's twelve letters against I go to Chelsea. I have put the last
commissions of MD in my account-book; but if there be any former ones, I have
forgot them. I have Dingley's pocket-book down, and Stella's green silk
apron, and the pound of tea; pray send me word if you have any other, and down
they shall go. I will not answer your letter yet, saucy boxes. You are with
the Dean just now, Madam Stella, losing your money. Why do not you name what
number you have received? You say you have received my letters, but do not
tell the number.
25. I was this day dining in the City with very insignificant, low, and
scurvy company. I had a letter from the Archbishop of Dublin, with a long
denial of the report raised on him,[11] which yet has been since assured to me
from those who say they have it from the first hand; but I cannot believe
them. I will show it to the Secretary to-morrow. I will not answer yours
till I get to Chelsea.
26. Chelsea. I have sent two boxes of lumber to my friend Darteneuf's house,
and my chest of Florence and other things to Mrs. Vanhomrigb, where I dined
to-day. I was this morning with the Secretary, and showed him the
Archbishop's letter, and convinced him of his Grace's innocence, and I will do
the same to Mr. Harley. I got here in the stage-coach with Patrick and my
portmanteau for sixpence, and pay six shillings a week for one silly room with
confounded coarse sheets.[12] We have had such a horrible deal of rain, that
there is no walking to London, and I must go as I came until it mends; and
besides the whelp has taken my lodging as far from London as this town could
afford, at least half a mile farther than he need; but I must be content. The
best is, I lodge just over against Dr. Atterbury's house, and yet perhaps I
shall not like the place the better for that. Well, I will stay till to-
morrow before I answer your letter; and you must suppose me always writing at
Chelsea from henceforward, till I alter, and say London. This letter goes on
Saturday, which will be just a fortnight; so go and cheat Goody Stoyte, etc.
27. Do you know that I fear my whole chest of Florence is turned sour, at
least the two first flasks were so, and hardly drinkable. How plaguy
unfortunate am I! and the Secretary's own is the best I ever tasted; and I
must not tell him, but be as thankful as if it were the best in Christendom.
I went to town in the sixpenny stage to-day; and hearing Mr. Harley was not at
home, I went to see him, because I knew by the message of his lying porter
that he was at home. He was very well, and just going out, but made me
promise to dine with him; and betwixt that and indeed strolling about, I lost
four pound seven shillings at play--with a--a--a--bookseller, and got but
about half a dozen books.[13] I will buy no more books now, that's certain.
Well, I dined at Mr. Harley's, came away at six, shifted my gown, cassock, and
periwig, and walked hither to Chelsea, as I always design to do when it is
fair. I am heartily sorry to find my friend the Secretary stand a little
ticklish with the rest of the Ministry; there have been one or two disobliging
things that have happened, too long to tell: and t'other day in Parliament,
upon a debate of about thirty-five millions that have not been duly accounted
for, Mr. Secretary, in his warmth of speech, and zeal for his friend Mr.
Brydges,[14] on whom part of the blame was falling, said he did not know that
either Mr. Brydges or the late Ministry were at all to blame in this matter;
which was very desperately spoken, and giving up the whole cause: for the
chief quarrel against the late Ministry was the ill management of the
treasure, and was more than all the rest together. I had heard of this
matter: but Mr. Foley[15] beginning to discourse to-day at table, without
naming Mr. St. John, I turned to Mr. Harley, and said if the late Ministry
were not to blame in that article, he (Mr. Harley) ought to lose his head for
putting the Queen upon changing them. He made it a jest; but by some words
dropped, I easily saw that they take things ill of Mr. St. John; and by some
hints given me from another hand that I deal with, I am afraid the Secretary
will not stand long. This is the fate of Courts. I will, if I meet Mr. St.
John alone on Sunday, tell him my opinion, and beg him to set himself right,
else the consequences may be very bad; for I see not how they can well want
him neither, and he would make a troublesome enemy. But enough of politics.
28. Morning. I forgot to tell you that Mr. Harley asked me yesterday how he
came to disoblige the Archbishop of Dublin. Upon which (having not his letter
about me) I told him what the Bishop had written to me on that subject,[16]
and desired I might read him the letter some other time. But after all, from
what I have heard from other hands, I am afraid the Archbishop is a little
guilty. Here is one Brent Spencer, a brother of Mr. Proby's,[17] who affirms
it, and says he has leave to do so from Charles Dering,[18] who heard the
words; and that Ingoldsby,[19] abused the Archbishop, etc. Well, but now for
your saucy letter: I have no room to answer it; O yes, enough on t'other
side. Are you no sicker? Stella jeers Presto for not coming over by
Christmas; but indeed Stella does not jeer, but reproach, poor poor Presto.
And how can I come away and the First-Fruits not finished? I am of opinion
the Duke of Ormond will do nothing in them before he goes, which will be in a
fortnight, they say; and then they must fall to me to be done in his absence.
No, indeed, I have nothing to print: you know they have printed the
Miscellanies[20] already. Are they on your side yet? If you have my snuff
box, I will have your strong box. Hi, does Stella take snuff again? or is it
only because it is a fine box? Not the Meddle, but the Medley,[21] you fool.
Yes, yes, a wretched thing, because it is against you Tories: now I think it
very fine, and the Examiner a wretched thing.--Twist your mouth, sirrah.
Guiscard, and what you will read in the Narrative,[22] I ordered to be
written, and nothing else. The Spectator is written by Steele, with Addison's
help: it is often very pretty. Yesterday it was made of a noble hint I gave
him long ago for his Tatlers, about an Indian supposed to write his Travels
into England.[23] I repent he ever had it. I intended to have written a book
on that subject. I believe he has spent it all in one paper, and all the
under-hints there are mine too; but I never see him or Addison. The Queen is
well, but I fear will be no long liver; for I am told she has sometimes the
gout in her bowels (I hate the word bowels). My ears have been, these three
months past, much better than any time these two years; but now they begin to
be a little out of order again. My head is better, though not right; but I
trust to air and walking. You have got my letter, but what number? I suppose
18. Well, my shin has been well this month. No, Mrs. Westley[24] came away
without her husband's knowledge, while she was in the country: she has
written to me for some tea. They lie; Mr. Harley's wound was very terrible:
he had convulsions, and very narrowly escaped. The bruise was nine times
worse than the wound: he is weak still. Well, Brooks married; I know all
that. I am sorry for Mrs. Walls's eye: I hope 'tis better. O yes, you are
great walkers: but I have heard them say, "Much talkers, little walkers":
and I believe I may apply the old proverb to you--
If you talked no more than you walked,
Those that think you wits would be baulked.
Yes, Stella shall have a large printed Bible: I have put it down among my
commissions for MD. I am glad to hear you have taken the fancy of intending
to read the Bible. Pox take the box; is not it come yet? This is trusting to
your young fellows, young women; 'tis your fault: I thought you had such
power with Sterne that he would fly over Mount Atlas to serve you. You say
you are not splenetic; but if you be, faith, you will break poor Presto's--I
will not say the rest; but I vow to God, if I could decently come over now, I
would, and leave all schemes of politics and ambition for ever. I have not
the opportunities here of preserving my health by riding, etc., that I have in
Ireland; and the want of health is a great cooler of making one's court. You
guess right about my being bit with a direction from Walls, and the letter
from MD: I believe I described it in one of my last. This goes to-night; and
I must now rise and walk to town, and walk back in the evening. God Almighty
bless and preserve poor MD. Farewell.
O, faith, don't think, saucy noses, that I'll fill this third side: I can't
stay a letter above a fortnight: it must go then; and you would rather see a
short one like this, than want it a week longer.
My humble service to the Dean, and Mrs. Walls, and good, kind, hearty Mrs.
Stoyte, and honest Catherine.
