LETTER 26.
CHELSEA, June 30, 1711.
See what large paper I am forced to take, to write to MD; Patrick has brought
me none clipped; but, faith, the next shall be smaller. I dined to-day, as I
told you, with Dilly at Sir Andrew Fountaine's: there were we wretchedly
punning, and writing together to Lord Pembroke. Dilly is just such a puppy as
ever; and it is so uncouth, after so long an intermission. My twenty-fifth is
gone this evening to the post. I think I will direct my next (which is this)
to Mr. Curry's, and let them send it to Wexford; and then the next enclosed to
Reading. Instruct me how I shall do. I long to hear from you from Wexford,
and what sort of place it is. The town grows very empty and dull. This
evening I have had a letter from Mr. Philips, the pastoral poet, to get him a
certain employment from Lord Treasurer. I have now had almost all the Whig
poets my solicitors; and I have been useful to Congreve, Steele, and Harrison:
but I will do nothing for Philips; I find he is more a puppy than ever, so
don't solicit for him. Besides, I will not trouble Lord Treasurer, unless
upon some very extraordinary occasion.
July 1. Dilly lies conveniently for me when I come to town from Chelsea of a
Sunday, and go to the Secretary's; so I called at his lodgings this morning,
and sent for my gown, and dressed myself there. He had a letter from the
Bishop, with an account that you were set out for Wexford the morning he writ,
which was June 26, and he had the letter the 30th; that was very quick: the
Bishop says you design to stay there two months or more. Dilly had also a
letter from Tom Ashe, full of Irish news; that your Lady Lyndon[1] is dead,
and I know not what besides of Dr. Coghill[2] losing his drab, etc. The
Secretary was gone to Windsor, and I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh. Lord
Treasurer is at Windsor too; they will be going and coming all summer, while
the Queen is there, and the town is empty, and I fear I shall be sometimes
forced to stoop beneath my dignity, and send to the ale-house for a dinner.
Well, sirrahs, had you a good journey to Wexford? did you drink ale by the
way? were you never overturned? how many things did you forget? do you lie on
straw in your new town where you are? Cudshoe,[3] the next letter to Presto
will be dated from Wexford. What fine company have you there? what new
acquaintance have you got? You are to write constantly to Mrs. Walls and Mrs.
Stoyte: and the Dean said, "Shall we never hear from you?" "Yes, Mr. Dean,
we'll make bold to trouble you with a letter." Then at Wexford; when you meet
a lady, "Did your waters pass well this morning, madam?" Will Dingley drink
them too? Yes, I warrant; to get her a stomach. I suppose you are all
gamesters at Wexford. Do not lose your money, sirrah, far from home. I
believe I shall go to Windsor in a few days; at least, the Secretary tells me
so. He has a small house there, with just room enough for him and me; and I
would be satisfied to pass a few days there sometimes. Sirrahs, let me go to
sleep, it is past twelve in our town.
2. Sterne came to me this morning, and tells me he has yet some hopes of
compassing his business: he was with Tom Harley, the secretary of the
Treasury, and made him doubt a little he was in the wrong; the poor man tells
me it will almost undo him if he fails. I called this morning to see Will
Congreve, who lives much by himself, is forced to read for amusement, and
cannot do it without a magnifying-glass. I have set him very well with the
Ministry, and I hope he is in no danger of losing his place. I dined in the
City with Dr. Freind, not among my merchants, but with a scrub instrument of
mischief of mine, whom I never mentioned to you, nor am like to do. You two
little saucy Wexfordians, you are now drinking waters. You drink waters! you
go fiddlestick. Pray God send them to do you good; if not, faith, next summer
you shall come to the Bath.
3. Lord Peterborow desired to see me this morning at nine; I had not seen him
before since he came home. I met Mrs. Manley[4] there, who was soliciting him
to get some pension or reward for her service in the cause, by writing her
Atalantis, and prosecution, etc., upon it. I seconded her, and hope they will
do something for the poor woman. My lord kept me two hours upon politics: he
comes home very sanguine; he has certainly done great things at Savoy and
Vienna, by his negotiations: he is violent against a peace, and finds true
what I writ to him, that the Ministry seems for it. He reasons well; yet I am
for a peace. I took leave of Lady Kerry, who goes to-morrow for Ireland; she
picks up Lord Shelburne and Mrs. Pratt at Lord Shelburne's house. I was this
evening with Lord Treasurer: Tom Harley was there, and whispered me that he
began to doubt about Sterne's business; I told him he would find he was in the
wrong. I sat two or three hours at Lord Treasurer's; he rallied me
sufficiently upon my refusing to take him into our Club, and told a judge who
was with us that my name was Thomas Swift. I had a mind to prevent Sir H.
Belasyse[5] going to Spain, who is a most covetous cur, and I fell a railing
against avarice, and turned it so that he smoked me, and named Belasyse. I
went on, and said it was a shame to send him; to which he agreed, but desired
I would name some who understood business, and do not love money, for he could
not find them. I said there was something in a Treasurer different from other
men; that we ought not to make a man a Bishop who does not love divinity, or a
General who does not love war; and I wondered why the Queen would make a man
Lord Treasurer who does not love money. He was mightily pleased with what I
said. He was talking of the First-Fruits of England, and I took occasion to
tell him that I would not for a thousand pounds anybody but he had got them
for Ireland, who got them for England too. He bid me consider what a thousand
pounds was; I said I would have him to know I valued a thousand pounds as
little as he valued a million.--Is it not silly to write all this? but it
gives you an idea what our conversation is with mixed company. I have taken a
lodging in Suffolk Street, and go to it on Thursday; and design to walk the
Park and the town, to supply my walking here: yet I will walk here sometimes
too, in a visit now and then to the Dean.[6] When I was almost at home,
Patrick told me he had two letters for me, and gave them to me in the dark,
yet I could see one of them was from saucy MD. I went to visit the Dean for
half an hour; and then came home, and first read the other letter, which was
from the Bishop of Clogher, who tells me the Archbishop of Dublin mentioned in
a full assembly of the clergy the Queen's granting the First-Fruits, said it
was done by the Lord Treasurer, and talked much of my merit in it: but
reading yours I find nothing of that: perhaps the Bishop lies, out of a
desire to please me. I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh. Well, sirrahs, you are
gone to Wexford; but I'll follow you.
4. Sterne came to me again this morning, to advise about reasons and
memorials he is drawing up; and we went to town by water together; and having
nothing to do, I stole into the City to an instrument of mine, and then went
to see poor Patty Rolt,[7] who has been in town these two months with a cousin
of hers. Her life passes with boarding in some country town as cheap as she
can, and, when she runs out, shifting to some cheaper place, or coming to town
for a month. If I were rich, I would ease her, which a little thing would do.
Some months ago I sent her a guinea, and it patched up twenty circumstances.
She is now going to Berkhamstead in Hertfordshire. It has rained and hailed
prodigiously to-day, with some thunder. This is the last night I lie at
Chelsea; and I got home early, and sat two hours with the Dean, and ate
victuals, having had a very scurvy dinner. I'll answer your letter when I
come to live in town. You shall have a fine London answer: but first I will
go sleep, and dream of MD.
London, July 5. This day I left Chelsea for good (that's a genteel phrase),
and am got into Suffolk Street. I dined to-day at our Society, and we are
adjourned for a month, because most of us go into the country: we dined at
Lord Keeper's with young Harcourt, and Lord Keeper was forced to sneak off,
and dine with Lord Treasurer, who had invited the Secretary and me to dine
with him; but we scorned to leave our company, as George Granville did, whom
we have threatened to expel: however, in the evening I went to Lord
Treasurer, and, among other company, found a couple of judges with him; one of
them, Judge Powell,[8] an old fellow with grey hairs, was the merriest old
gentleman I ever saw, spoke pleasant things, and laughed and chuckled till he
cried again. I stayed till eleven, because I was not now to walk to Chelsea.
6. An ugly rainy day. I was to visit Mrs. Barton, then called at Mrs.
Vanhomrigh's, where Sir Andrew Fountaine and the rain kept me to dinner; and
there did I loiter all the afternoon, like a fool, out of perfect laziness,
and the weather not permitting me to walk: but I'll do so no more. Are your
waters at Wexford good in this rain? I long to hear how you are established
there, how and whom you visit, what is your lodging, what are your
entertainments. You are got far southwards; but I think you must eat no fruit
while you drink the waters. I ate some Kentish cherries t'other day, and I
repent it already; I have felt my head a little disordered. We had not a hot
day all June, or since, which I reckon a mighty happiness. Have you left a
direction with Reading for Wexford? I will, as I said, direct this to
Curry's, and the next to Reading; or suppose I send this at a venture straight
to Wexford? It would vex me to have it miscarry. I had a letter to-night
from Parvisol, that White has paid me most of my remaining money; and another
from Joe, that they have had their election at Trim, but not a word of who is
chosen portreeve.[9] Poor Joe is full of complaints, says he has enemies, and
fears he will never get his two hundred pounds; and I fear so too, although I
have done what I could.--I'll answer your letter when I think fit, when saucy
Presto thinks fit, sirrahs. I am not at leisure yet; when I have nothing to
do, perhaps I may vouchsafe.--O Lord, the two Wexford ladies; I'll go dream of
you both.
7. It was the dismallest rainy day I ever saw: I went to the Secretary in
the morning, and he was gone to Windsor. Then it began raining, and I struck
in to Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, and dined, and stayed till night very dull and
insipid. I hate this town in summer; I'll leave it for a while, if I can have
time.
8. I have a fellow of your town, one Tisdall,[10] lodges in the same house
with me. Patrick told me Squire Tisdall and his lady lodged here. I
pretended I never heard of him; but I knew his ugly face, and saw him at
church in the next pew to me, and he often looked for a bow, but it would not
do. I think he lives in Capel Street, and has an ugly fine wife in a fine
coach. Dr. Freind and I dined in the City by invitation, and I drank punch,
very good, but it makes me hot. People here are troubled with agues by this
continuance of wet, cold weather; but I am glad to find the season so
temperate. I was this evening to see Will Congreve, who is a very agreeable
companion.
9. I was to-day in the City, and dined with Mr. Stratford, who tells me Sir
Alexander Cairnes makes difficulties about paying my bill; so that I cannot
give order yet to Parvisol to deliver up the bond to Dr. Raymond. To-morrow I
shall have a positive answer: that Cairnes is a shuffling scoundrel; and
several merchants have told me so: what can one expect from a Scot and a
fanatic? I was at Bateman's the bookseller's, to see a fine old library he
has bought; and my fingers itched, as yours would do at a china-shop; but I
resisted, and found everything too dear, and I have fooled away too much money
that way already. So go and drink your waters, saucy rogue, and make yourself
well; and pray walk while you are there: I have a notion there is never a
good walk in Ireland.[11] Do you find all places without trees? Pray observe
the inhabitants about Wexford; they are old English; see what they have
particular in their manners, names, and language: magpies have been always
there, and nowhere else in Ireland, till of late years. They say the cocks
and dogs go to sleep at noon, and so do the people. Write your travels, and
bring home good eyes and health.
10. I dined to-day with Lord Treasurer: we did not sit down till four. I
despatched three businesses with him, and forgot a fourth. I think I have got
a friend an employment; and besides I made him consent to let me bring
Congreve to dine with him. You must understand I have a mind to do a small
thing, only turn out all the Queen's physicians; for in my conscience they
will soon kill her among them. And I must talk over that matter with some
people. My Lord Treasurer told me the Queen and he between them have lost the
paper about the First-Fruits, but desires I will let the bishops know it shall
be done with the first opportunity.
11. I dined to-day with neighbour Van, and walked pretty well in the Park
this evening. Stella, hussy, don't you remember, sirrah, you used to reproach
me about meddling in other folk's affairs? I have enough of it now: two
people came to me to-night in the Park to engage to speak to Lord Treasurer in
their behalf, and I believe they make up fifty who have asked me the same
favour. I am hardened, and resolve to trouble him, or any other Minister,
less than ever. And I observe those who have ten times more credit than I
will not speak a word for anybody. I met yesterday the poor lad I told you
of, who lived with Mr. Tenison,[12] who has been ill of an ague ever since I
saw him. He looked wretchedly, and was exceeding thankful for half a crown I
gave him. He had a crown from me before.
12. I dined to-day with young Manley[13] in the City, who is to get me out a
box of books and a hamper of wine from Hamburg. I inquired of Mr. Stratford,
who tells me that Cairnes has not yet paid my two hundred pounds, but shams
and delays from day to day. Young Manley's wife is a very indifferent person
of a young woman, goggle-eyed, and looks like a fool: yet he is a handsome
fellow, and married her for love after long courtship, and she refused him
until he got his last employment.--I believe I shall not be so good a boy for
writing as I was during your stay at Wexford, unless I may send my letters
every second time to Curry's; pray let me know. This, I think, shall go
there: or why not to Wexford itself? That is right, and so it shall this
next Tuesday, although it costs you tenpence. What care I?
13. This toad of a Secretary is come from Windsor, and I cannot find him; and
he goes back on Sunday, and I can't see him to-morrow. I dined scurvily to-
day with Mr. Lewis and a parson; and then went to see Lord Treasurer, and met
him coming from his house in his coach: he smiled, and I shrugged, and we
smoked each other; and so my visit is paid. I now confine myself to see him
only twice a week: he has invited me to Windsor, and betwixt two stools, etc.
I will go live at Windsor, if possible, that's pozzz. I have always the luck
to pass my summer in London. I called this evening to see poor Sir Matthew
Dudley, a Commissioner of the Customs; I know he is to be out for certain: he
is in hopes of continuing: I would not tell him bad news, but advised him to
prepare for the worst. Dilly was with me this morning, to invite me to dine
at Kensington on Sunday with Lord Mountjoy, who goes soon for Ireland. Your
late Chief-Justice Broderick[14] is here, and they say violent as a tiger.
How is party among you at Wexford? Are the majority of ladies for the late or
present Ministry? Write me Wexford news, and love Presto, because he is a
good boy.
14. Although it was shaving-day, I walked to Chelsea, and was there by nine
this morning; and the Dean of Carlisle and I crossed the water to Battersea,
and went in his chariot to Greenwich, where we dined at Dr. Gastrell's, and
passed the afternoon at Lewisham, at the Dean of Canterbury's;[15] and there I
saw Moll Stanhope,[16] who is grown monstrously tall, but not so handsome as
formerly. It is the first little rambling journey I have had this summer
about London, and they are the agreeablest pastimes one can have, in a
friend's coach, and to good company. Bank Stock is fallen three or four per
cent. by the whispers about the town of the Queen's being ill, who is however
very well.
15. How many books have you carried with you to Wexford? What, not one
single book? Oh, but your time will be so taken up; and you can borrow of the
parson. I dined to-day with Sir Andrew Fountaine and Dilly at Kensington with
Lord Mountjoy; and in the afternoon Stratford came there, and told me my two
hundred pounds were paid at last; so that business is over, and I am at ease
about it; and I wish all your money was in the Bank too. I will have my other
hundred pounds there, that is in Hawkshaw's hands. Have you had the interest
of it paid yet? I ordered Parvisol to do it. What makes Presto write so
crooked? I will answer your letter to-morrow, and send it on Tuesday. Here's
hot weather come again, yesterday and to-day: fine drinking waters now. We
had a sad pert dull parson at Kensington to-day. I almost repent my coming to
town; I want the walks I had.
16. I dined in the City to-day with a hedge[17] acquaintance, and the day
passed without any consequence. I will answer your letter to-morrow.
17. Morning. I have put your letter before me, and am going to answer it.
Hold your tongue: stand by. Your weather and ours were not alike; we had not
a bit of hot weather in June, yet you complain of it on the 19th day. What,
you used to love hot weather then? I could never endure it: I detest and
abominate it. I would not live in a hot country, to be king of it. What a
splutter you keep about my bonds with Raymond, and all to affront Presto!
Presto will be suspicious of everything but MD, in spite of your little nose.
Soft and fair, Madam Stella, how you gallop away, in your spleen and your
rage, about repenting my journey, and preferment here, and sixpence a dozen,
and nasty England, and Laracor all my life. Hey-dazy, will you never have
done? I had no offers of any living. Lord Keeper told me some months ago he
would give me one when I pleased; but I told him I would not take any from
him; and the Secretary told me t'other day he had refused a very good one for
me, but it was in a place he did not like; and I know nothing of getting
anything here, and, if they would give me leave, I would come over just now.
Addison, I hear, has changed his mind about going over; but I have not seen
him these four months.--Oh ay, that's true, Dingley; that's like herself:
millions of businesses to do before she goes. Yes, my head has been pretty
well, but threatening within these two or three days, which I impute to some
fruit I ate; but I will eat no more: not a bit of any sort. I suppose you
had a journey without dust, and that was happy. I long for a Wexford letter,
but must not think of it yet: your last was finished but three weeks ago. It
is d----d news you tell me of Mrs. F----; it makes me love England less a
great deal. I know nothing of the trunk being left or taken; so 'tis odd
enough, if the things in it were mine; and I think I was told that there are
some things for me that my mother left particularly to me. I am really sorry
for -----; that scoundrel ----- will have his estate after his mother's death.
Let me know if Mrs. Walls has got her tea: I hope Richardson[18] stayed in
Dublin till it came. Mrs. Walls needed not have that blemish in her eye; for
I am not in love with her at all. No, I do not like anything in the Examiner
after the 45th, except the first part of the 46th;[19] all the rest is trash;
and if you like them, especially the 47th, your judgment is spoiled by ill
company and want of reading, which I am more sorry for than you think: and I
have spent fourteen years in improving you to little purpose. (Mr. Tooke is
come here, and I must stop.)--At night. I dined with Lord Treasurer to-day,
and he kept me till nine; so I cannot send this to-night, as I intended, nor
write some other letters. Green,[20] his surgeon, was there, and dressed his
breast; that is, put on a plaster, which is still requisite: and I took an
opportunity to speak to him of the Queen; but he cut me short with this
saying, "Laissez faire a Don Antoine," which is a French proverb, expressing,
"Leave that to me." I find he is against her taking much physic; and I doubt
he cannot persuade her to take Dr. Radcliffe. However, she is very well now,
and all the story of her illness, except the first day or two, was a lie. We
had some business, that company hindered us from doing, though he is earnest
for it, yet would not appoint me a certain day, but bids me come at all times
till we can have leisure. This takes up a great deal of my time, and I can do
nothing I would do for them. I was with the Secretary this morning, and we
both think to go to Windsor for some days, to despatch an affair, if we can
have leisure. Sterne met me just now in the street by his lodgings, and I
went in for an hour to Jemmy Leigh, who loves London dearly: he asked after
you with great respect and friendship.--To return to your letter. Your Bishop
Mills[21] hates me mortally: I wonder he should speak well of me, having
abused me in all places where he went. So you pay your way. Cudsho: you had
a fine supper, I warrant; two pullets, and a bottle of wine, and some
currants.--It is just three weeks to-day since you set out to Wexford; you
were three days going, and I do not expect a letter these ten days yet, or
rather this fortnight. I got a grant of the Gazette[22] for Ben Tooke this
morning from Mr. Secretary: it will be worth to him a hundred pounds a year.
18. To-day I took leave of Mrs. Barton, who is going into the country; and I
dined with Sir John Stanley,[23] where I have not been this great while.
There dined with us Lord Rochester, and his fine daughter, Lady Jane,[24] just
growing a top-toast. I have been endeavouring to save Sir Matthew Dudley,[25]
but fear I cannot. I walked the Mall six times to-night for exercise, and
would have done more; but, as empty as the town is, a fool got hold of me, and
so I came home, to tell you this shall go to-morrow, without fail, and follow
you to Wexford, like a dog.
19. Dean Atterbury sent to me to dine with him at Chelsea. I refused his
coach, and walked, and am come back by seven, because I would finish this
letter, and some others I am writing. Patrick tells me the maid says one Mr.
Walls, a clergyman, a tall man, was here to visit me. Is it your Irish
Archdeacon? I shall be sorry for it; but I shall make shift to see him seldom
enough, as I do Dilly. What can he do here? or is it somebody else? The Duke
of Newcastle[26] is dead by the fall he had from his horse. God send poor
Stella her health, and keep MD happy! Farewell, and love Presto, who loves MD
above all things ten million of times. God bless the dear Wexford girls.
Farewell again, etc. etc.
