LETTER 23.
CHELSEA, May 12, 1711.
I sent you my twenty-second this afternoon in town. I dined with Mr. Harley
and the old Club, Lord Rivers, Lord Keeper, and Mr. Secretary. They rallied
me last week, and said I must have Mr. St. John's leave; so I writ to him
yesterday, that foreseeing I should never dine again with Sir Simon Harcourt,
Knight, and Robert Harley, Esq., I was resolved to do it to-day. The jest is,
that before Saturday[1] next we expect they will be lords; for Mr. Harley's
patent is drawing, to be Earl of Oxford. Mr. Secretary and I came away at
seven, and he brought me to our town's end in his coach; so I lost my walk.
St. John read my letter to the company, which was all raillery, and passed
purely.
13. It rained all last night and this morning as heavy as lead; but I just
got fair weather to walk to town before church. The roads are all over in
deep puddle. The hay of our town is almost fit to be mowed. I went to Court
after church (as I always do on Sundays, and then dined with Mr. Secretary,
who has engaged me for every Sunday; and poor MD dined at home upon a bit of
veal and a pint of wine. Is it not plaguy insipid to tell you every day where
I dine? yet now I have got into the way of it, I cannot forbear it neither.
Indeed, Mr. Presto, you had better go answer MD's letter, N.14. I will answer
it when I please, Mr. Doctor. What is that you say? The Court was very full
this morning, expecting Mr. Harley would be declared Earl of Oxford and have
the Treasurer's staff. Mr. Harley never comes to Court at all; somebody there
asked me the reason. "Why," said I, "the Lord of Oxford knows." He always
goes to the Queen by the back stairs. I was told for certain, you jackanapes,
Lord Santry[2] was dead, Captain Cammock[3] assured me so; and now he's alive
again, they say; but that shan't do: he shall be dead to me as long as he
lives. Dick Tighe[4] and I meet, and never stir our hats. I am resolved to
mistake him for Witherington, the little nasty lawyer that came up to me so
sternly at the Castle the day I left Ireland. I'll ask the gentleman I saw
walking with him how long Witherington has been in town.
14. I went to town to-day by water. The hail quite discouraged me from
walking, and there is no shade in the greatest part of the way. I took the
first boat, and had a footman my companion; then I went again by water, and
dined in the City with a printer, to whom I carried a pamphlet in manuscript,
that Mr. Secretary gave me. The printer sent it to the Secretary for his
approbation, and he desired me to look it over, which I did, and found it a
very scurvy piece. The reason I tell you so, is because it was done by your
parson Slap, Scrap, Flap (what d'ye call him), Trapp,[5] your Chancellor's
chaplain. 'Tis called A Character of the Present Set of Whigs, and is going
to be printed, and no doubt the author will take care to produce it in
Ireland. Dr. Freind was with me, and pulled out a twopenny pamphlet just
published, called The State of Wit,[6] giving a character of all the papers
that have come out of late. The author seems to be a Whig, yet he speaks very
highly of a paper called the Examiner, and says the supposed author of it is
Dr. Swift. But above all things he praises the Tatlers and Spectators; and I
believe Steele and Addison were privy to the printing of it. Thus is one
treated by these impudent dogs. And that villain Curll[7] has scraped up some
trash, and calls it Dr. Swift's Miscellanies, with the name at large: and I
can get no satisfaction of him. Nay, Mr. Harley told me he had read it, and
only laughed at me before Lord Keeper and the rest. Since I came home, I have
been sitting with the Prolocutor, Dean Atterbury, who is my neighbour over the
way, but generally keeps in town with his Convocation. 'Tis late, etc.
15. My walk to town to-day was after ten, and prodigiously hot. I dined with
Lord Shelburne, and have desired Mrs. Pratt, who lodges there, to carry over
Mrs. Walls's tea; I hope she will do it, and they talk of going in a
fortnight. My way is this: I leave my best gown and periwig at Mrs.
Vanhomrigh's, then walk up the Pall Mall, through the Park, out at Buckingham
House, and so to Chelsea a little beyond the church: I set out about sunset,
and get here in something less than an hour; it is two good miles, and just
five thousand seven hundred and forty-eight steps; so there is four miles a
day walking, without reckoning what I walk while I stay in town. When I pass
the Mall in the evening, it is prodigious to see the number of ladies walking
there; and I always cry shame at the ladies of Ireland, who never walk at all,
as if their legs were of no use, but to be laid aside. I have been now almost
three weeks here, and I thank God, am much better in my head, if it does but
continue. I tell you what, if I was with you, when we went to Stoyte at
Donnybrook, we would only take a coach to the hither end of Stephen's Green,
and from thence go every step on foot, yes, faith, every step; it would do
DD[8] good as well as Presto.[9] Everybody tells me I look better already;
for, faith, I looked sadly, that is certain. My breakfast is milk porridge:
I do not love it; faith, I hate it, but it is cheap and wholesome; and I hate
to be obliged to either of those qualities for anything.[10]
16. I wonder why Presto will be so tedious in answering MD's letters; because
he would keep the best to the last, I suppose. Well, Presto must be humoured,
it must be as he will have it, or there will be an old to do.[11] Dead with
heat; are not you very hot? My walks make my forehead sweat rarely; sometimes
my morning journey is by water, as it was to-day with one Parson
Richardson,[12] who came to see me, on his going to Ireland; and with him I
send Mrs. Walls's tea, and three books[13] I got from the Lords of the
Treasury for the College. I dined with Lord Shelburne to-day; Lady Kerry and
Mrs. Pratt are going likewise for Ireland.--Lord! I forgot, I dined with Mr.
Prior to-day, at his house, with Dean Atterbury and others; and came home
pretty late, and I think I'm in a fuzz, and don't know what I say, never saw
the like.
17. Sterne came here by water to see me this morning, and I went back with
him to his boat. He tells me that Mrs. Edgworth[14] married a fellow in her
journey to Chester; so I believe she little thought of anybody's box but her
own. I desired Sterne to give me directions where to get the box in Chester,
which he says he will to-morrow; and I will write to Richardson to get it up
there as he goes by, and whip it over. It is directed to Mrs. Curry: you
must caution her of it, and desire her to send it you when it comes. Sterne
says Jemmy Leigh loves London mightily; that makes him stay so long, I
believe, and not Sterne's business, which Mr. Harley's accident has put much
backward. We expect now every day that he will be Earl of Oxford and Lord
Treasurer. His patent is passing; but, they say, Lord Keeper's not yet; at
least his son, young Harcourt, told me so t'other day. I dined to-day
privately with my friend Lewis at his lodgings at Whitehall. T'other day at
Whitehall I met a lady of my acquaintance, whom I had not seen before since I
came to England; we were mighty glad to see each other, and she has engaged me
to visit her, as I design to do. It is one Mrs. Colledge: she has lodgings
at Whitehall, having been seamstress to King William, worth three hundred a
year. Her father was a fanatic joiner,[15] hanged for treason in
Shaftesbury's plot. This noble person and I were brought acquainted, some
years ago, by Lady Berkeley.[16] I love good creditable acquaintance: I love
to be the worst of the company: I am not of those that say, "For want of
company, welcome trumpery." I was this evening with Lady Kerry and Mrs. Pratt
at Vauxhall, to hear the nightingales; but they are almost past singing.
18. I was hunting the Secretary to-day in vain about some business, and dined
with Colonel Crowe, late Governor of Barbados,[17] and your friend Sterne was
the third: he is very kind to Sterne, and helps him in his business, which
lies asleep till Mr. Harley is Lord Treasurer, because nothing of moment is
now done in the Treasury, the change being expected every day. I sat with
Dean Atterbury till one o'clock after I came home; so 'tis late, etc.
19. Do you know that about our town we are mowing already and making hay, and
it smells so sweet as we walk through the flowery meads; but the hay-making
nymphs are perfect drabs, nothing so clean and pretty as farther in the
country. There is a mighty increase of dirty wenches in straw hats since I
knew London. I stayed at home till five o'clock, and dined with Dean
Atterbury; then went by water to Mr. Harley's, where the Saturday Club was
met, with the addition of the Duke of Shrewsbury. I whispered Lord Rivers
that I did not like to see a stranger among us; and the rogue told it aloud:
but Mr. Secretary said the Duke writ to have leave; so I appeared satisfied,
and so we laughed. Mr. Secretary told me the Duke of Buckingham[18] had been
talking to him much about me, and desired my acquaintance. I answered it
could not be, for he had not made sufficient advances. Then the Duke of
Shrewsbury said he thought that Duke was not used to make advances. I said I
could not help that; for I always expected advances in proportion to men's
quality, and more from a duke than any other man. The Duke replied that he
did not mean anything of his quality; which was handsomely said enough; for he
meant his pride: and I have invented a notion to believe that nobody is
proud. At ten all the company went away; and from ten to twelve Mr. Harley
and I sat together, where we talked through a great deal of matters I had a
mind to settle with him; and then walked in a fine moonshine night to Chelsea,
where I got by one. Lord Rivers conjured me not to walk so late; but I would,
because I had no other way; but I had no money to lose.
20. By what the Lord Keeper told me last night, I find he will not be made a
peer so soon; but Mr. Harley's patent for Earl of Oxford is now drawing, and
will be done in three days. We made him own it, which he did scurvily, and
then talked of it like the rest. Mr. Secretary had too much company with him
to-day; so I came away soon after dinner. I give no man liberty to swear or
talk b---dy, and I found some of them were in constraint, so I left them to
themselves. I wish you a merry Whitsuntide, and pray tell me how you pass
away your time; but, faith, you are going to Wexford, and I fear this letter
is too late; it shall go on Thursday, and sooner it cannot, I have so much
business to hinder me answering yours. Where must I direct in your absence?
Do you quit your lodgings?
21. Going to town this morning, I met in the Pall Mall a clergyman of
Ireland, whom I love very well and was glad to see, and with him a little
jackanapes, of Ireland too, who married Nanny Swift, Uncle Adam's[19]
daughter, one Perry; perhaps you may have heard of him. His wife has sent him
here, to get a place from Lowndes;[20] because my uncle and Lowndes married
two sisters, and Lowndes is a great man here in the Treasury; but by good luck
I have no acquaintance with him: however, he expected I should be his friend
to Lowndes, and one word of mine, etc., the old cant. But I will not go two
yards to help him. I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, where I keep my best gown
and periwig, to put on when I come to town and be a spark.
22. I dined to-day in the City, and coming home this evening, I met Sir
Thomas Mansel and Mr. Lewis in the Park. Lewis whispered me that Mr. Harley's
patent for the Earl of Oxford was passed in Mr. Secretary St. John's office;
so to-morrow or next day, I suppose, he will be declared Earl of Oxford, and
have the staff.[21] This man has grown by persecutions, turnings out, and
stabbing. What waiting, and crowding, and bowing will be at his levee! yet,
if human nature be capable of so much constancy, I should believe he will be
the same man still, bating the necessary forms of grandeur he must keep up.
'Tis late, sirrahs, and I'll go sleep.
23. Morning. I sat up late last night, and waked late to-day; but will now
answer your letter in bed before I go to town, and I will send it to-morrow;
for perhaps you mayn't go so soon to Wexford.--No, you are not out in your
number; the last was Number 14, and so I told you twice or thrice; will you
never be satisfied? What shall we do for poor Stella? Go to Wexford, for
God's sake: I wish you were to walk there by three miles a day, with a good
lodging at every mile's end. Walking has done me so much good, that I cannot
but prescribe it often to poor Stella. Parvisol has sent me a bill for fifty
pounds, which I am sorry for, having not written to him for it, only mentioned
it two months ago; but I hope he will be able to pay you what I have drawn
upon him for: he never sent me any sum before, but one bill of twenty pounds
half a year ago. You are welcome as my blood to every farthing I have in the
world; and all that grieves me is, I am not richer, for MD's sake, as hope
saved.[22] I suppose you give up your lodgings when you go to Wexford; yet
that will be inconvenient too: yet I wish again you were under a necessity of
rambling the country until Michaelmas, faith. No, let them keep the shelves,
with a pox; yet they are exacting people about those four weeks; or Mrs. Brent
may have the shelves, if she please. I am obliged to your Dean for his kind
offer of lending me money. Will that be enough to say? A hundred people
would lend me money, or to any man who has not the reputation of a squanderer.
O, faith, I should be glad to be in the same kingdom with MD, however,
although you are at Wexford. But I am kept here by a most capricious fate,
which I would break through, if I could do it with decency or honour.--To
return without some mark of distinction would look extremely little; and I
would likewise gladly be somewhat richer than I am. I will say no more, but
beg you to be easy till Fortune take her course, and to believe that MD's
felicity is the great end I aim at in all my pursuits. And so let us talk no
more on this subject, which makes me melancholy, and that I would fain divert.
Believe me, no man breathing at present has less share of happiness in life
than I: I do not say I am unhappy at all, but that everything here is
tasteless to me for want of being as I would be. And so, a short sigh, and no
more of this. Well, come and let's see what's next, young women. Pox take
Mrs. Edgworth and Sterne! I will take some methods about that box. What
orders would you have me give about the picture? Can't you do with it as if
it were your own? No, I hope Manley will keep his place; for I hear nothing
of Sir Thomas Frankland's losing his. Send nothing under cover to Mr.
Addison, but "To Erasmus Lewis, Esq.; at my Lord Dartmouth's office at
Whitehall." Direct your outside so.--Poor dear Stella, don't write in the
dark, nor in the light neither, but dictate to Dingley; she is a naughty,
healthy girl, and may drudge for both. Are you good company together? and
don't you quarrel too often? Pray love one another, and kiss one another just
now, as Dingley is reading this; for you quarrelled this morning just after
Mrs. Marget[23] had poured water on Stella's head: I heard the little bird
say so. Well, I have answered everything in your letter that required it, and
yet the second side is not full. I'll come home at night, and say more; and
to-morrow this goes for certain. Go, get you gone to your own chambers, and
let Presto rise like a modest gentleman, and walk to town. I fancy I begin to
sweat less in the forehead by constant walking than I used to do; but then I
shall be so sunburnt, the ladies will not like me. Come, let me rise,
sirrahs. Morrow.--At night. I dined with Ford to-day at his lodgings, and I
found wine out of my own cellar, some of my own chest of the great Duke's
wine: it begins to turn. They say wine with you in Ireland is half a crown a
bottle. 'Tis as Stella says; nothing that once grows dear in Ireland ever
grows cheap again, except corn, with a pox, to ruin the parson. I had a
letter to-day from the Archbishop of Dublin, giving me further thanks about
vindicating him to Mr. Harley and Mr. St. John, and telling me a long story
about your Mayor's election,[24] wherein I find he has had a finger, and given
way to further talk about him; but we know nothing of it here yet. This
walking to and fro, and dressing myself, takes up so much of my time that I
cannot go among company so much as formerly; yet what must a body do? I thank
God I yet continue much better since I left the town; I know not how long it
may last. I am sure it has done me some good for the present. I do not
totter as I did, but walk firm as a cock, only once or twice for a minute, I
do not know how; but it went off, and I never followed it. Does Dingley read
my hand as well as ever? do you, sirrah? Poor Stella must not read Presto's
ugly small hand.
Preserve your eyes,
If you be wise.
Your friend Walls's tea will go in a day or two towards Chester by one Parson
Richardson. My humble service to her, and to good Mrs. Stoyte, and Catherine;
and pray walk while you continue in Dublin. I expect your next but one will
be from Wexford. God bless dearest MD.
24. Morning. Mr. Secretary has sent his groom hither, to invite me to dinner
to-day, etc. God Almighty for ever bless and preserve you both, and give you
health, etc. Amen. Farewell, etc.
Do not I often say the same thing two or three times in the same letter,
sirrah?
Great wits, they say, have but short memories; that's good vile conversation.
