LETTER 33.
LONDON, Oct. 23, 1711.
I dined with Lord Dupplin as I told you I would, and put my thirty-second into
the post-office my own self; and I believe there has not been one moment since
we parted wherein a letter was not upon the road going or coming to or from
PMD. If the Queen knew it, she would give us a pension; for it is we bring
good luck to their post-boys and their packets; else they would break their
necks and sink. But, an old saying and a true one:
Be it snow, or storm, or hail,
PMD's letters never fail;
Cross winds may sometimes make them tarry,
But PMD's letters can't miscarry.
Terrible rain to-day, but it cleared up at night enough to save my twelvepence
coming home. Lord Treasurer is much better this evening. I hate to have him
ill, he is so confoundedly careless. I won't answer your letter yet, so be
satisfied.
24. I called at Lord Treasurer's to-day at noon: he was eating some broth in
his bed-chamber, undressed, with a thousand papers about him. He has a little
fever upon him, and his eye terribly bloodshot; yet he dressed himself and
went out to the Treasury. He told me he had a letter from a lady with a
complaint against me; it was from Mrs. Cutts, a sister of Lord Cutts, who writ
to him that I had abused her brother:[1] you remember the "Salamander," it is
printed in the Miscellany. I told my lord that I would never regard
complaints, and that I expected, whenever he received any against me, he would
immediately put them into the fire, and forget them, else I should have no
quiet. I had a little turn in my head this morning; which, though it did not
last above a moment, yet being of the true sort, has made me as weak as a dog
all this day. 'Tis the first I have had this half-year. I shall take my
pills if I hear of it again. I dined at Lady Mountjoy's with Harry Coote,[2]
and went to see Lord Pembroke upon his coming to town.--The Whig party are
furious against a peace, and every day some ballad comes out reflecting on the
Ministry on that account. The Secretary St. John has seized on a dozen
booksellers and publishers into his messengers' hands.[3] Some of the foreign
Ministers have published the preliminaries agreed on here between France and
England; and people rail at them as insufficient to treat a peace upon; but
the secret is, that the French have agreed to articles much more important,
which our Ministers have not communicated, and the people, who think they know
all, are discontented that there is no more. This was an inconvenience I
foretold to the Secretary, but we could contrive no way to fence against it.
So there's politics for you.
25. The Queen is at Hampton Court: she went on Tuesday in that terrible
rain. I dined with Lewis at his lodgings, to despatch some business we had.
I sent this morning and evening to Lord Treasurer, and he is much worse by
going out; I am in pain about evening. He has sent for Dr. Radcliffe; pray
God preserve him. The Chancellor of the Exchequer[4] showed me to-day a
ballad[5] in manuscript against Lord Treasurer and his South Sea project; it
is very sharply written: if it be not printed, I will send it you. If it be,
it shall go in your packet of pamphlets.--I found out your letter about
directions for the apron, and have ordered to be bought a cheap green silk
work apron; I have it by heart. I sat this evening with Mrs. Barton, who is
my near neighbour. It was a delicious day, and I got my walk, and was
thinking whether MD was walking too just at that time that Presto was. This
paper does not cost me a farthing, I have it from the Secretary's office. I
long till to-morrow to know how my Lord Treasurer sleeps this night, and to
hear he mends: we are all undone without him; so pray for him, sirrahs, and
don't stay too late at the Dean's.
26. I dined with Mrs. Van; for the weather is so bad, and I am so busy, that
I can't dine with great folks: and besides I dare eat but little, to keep my
head in order, which is better. Lord Treasurer is very ill, but I hope in no
danger. We have no quiet with the Whigs, they are so violent against a peace;
but I'll cool them, with a vengeance, very soon. I have not heard from the
Bishop of Clogher, whether he has got his statues.[6] I writ to him six weeks
ago; he's so busy with his Parliament. I won't answer your letter yet, say
what you will, saucy girls.
27. I forgot to go about some business this morning, which cost me double the
time; and I was forced to be at the Secretary's office till four, and lose my
dinner; so I went to Mrs. Van's, and made them get me three herrings, which I
am very fond of, and they are a light victuals: besides, I was to have supped
at Lady Ashburnham's; but the drab did not call for us in her coach, as she
promised, but sent for us, and so I sent my excuses. It has been a terrible
rainy day, but so flattering in the morning, that I would needs go out in my
new hat. I met Leigh and Sterne as I was going into the Park. Leigh says he
will go to Ireland in ten days, if he can get Sterne to go with him; so I will
send him the things for MD, and I have desired him to inquire about the box.
I hate that Sterne for his carelessness about it; but it was my fault.
29. I was all this terrible rainy day with my friend Lewis upon business of
importance; and I dined with him, and came home about seven, and thought I
would amuse myself a little, after the pains I had taken. I saw a volume of
Congreve's plays in my room, that Patrick had taken to read; and I looked into
it, and in mere loitering read in it till twelve, like an owl and a fool: if
ever I do so again; never saw the like. Count Gallas,[7] the Emperor's Envoy,
you will hear, is in disgrace with us: the Queen has ordered her Ministers to
have no more commerce with him; the reason is, the fool writ a rude letter to
Lord Dartmouth, Secretary of State, complaining of our proceedings about a
peace; and he is always in close confidence with Lord Wharton and Sunderland,
and others of the late Ministry. I believe you begin to think there will be
no peace; the Whigs here are sure it cannot be, and stocks are fallen again.
But I am confident there will, unless France plays us tricks; and you may
venture a wager with any of your Whig acquaintance that we shall not have
another campaign. You will get more by it than by ombre, sirrah.--I let slip
telling you yesterday's journal, which I thought to have done this morning,
but blundered. I dined yesterday at Harry Coote's, with Lord Hatton,[8] Mr.
Finch, a son of Lord Nottingham, and Sir Andrew Fountaine. I left them soon,
but hear they stayed till two in the morning, and were all drunk: and so
good-night for last night, and good-night for to-night. You blundering
goosecap, an't you ashamed to blunder to young ladies? I shall have a fire in
three or four days now, oh ho.
30. I was to-day in the City concerting some things with a printer, and am to
be to-morrow all day busy with Mr. Secretary about the same. I won't tell you
now; but the Ministers reckon it will do abundance of good, and open the eyes
of the nation, who are half bewitched against a peace. Few of this generation
can remember anything but war and taxes, and they think it is as it should be;
whereas 'tis certain we are the most undone people in Europe, as I am afraid I
shall make appear beyond all contradiction. But I forgot; I won't tell you
what I will do, nor what I will not do: so let me alone, and go to Stoyte,
and give Goody Stoyte and Catherine my humble service; I love Goody Stoyte
better than Goody Walls. Who'll pay me for this green apron? I will have the
money; it cost ten shillings and sixpence. I think it plaguy dear for a cheap
thing; but they said that English silk would cockle,[9] and I know not what.
You have the making into the bargain. 'Tis right Italian: I have sent it and
the pamphlets to Leigh, and will send the Miscellanies and spectacles in a day
or two. I would send more; but, faith, I'm plaguy poor at present.
31. The devil's in this Secretary: when I went this morning he had people
with him; but says he, "we are to dine with Prior to-day, and then will do all
our business in the afternoon": at two, Prior sends word he is otherwise
engaged; then the Secretary and I go and dine with Brigadier Britton, sit till
eight, grow merry, no business done; he is in haste to see Lady Jersey;[10] we
part, and appoint no time to meet again. This is the fault of all the present
Ministers, teasing me to death for my assistance, laying the whole weight of
their affairs upon it, yet slipping opportunities. Lord Treasurer mends every
day, though slowly: I hope he will take care of himself. Pray, will you send
to Parvisol to send me a bill of twenty pounds as soon as he can, for I want
money. I must have money; I will have money, sirrahs.
Nov. 1. I went to-day into the City to settle some business with Stratford,
and to dine with him; but he was engaged, and I was so angry I would not dine
with any other merchant, but went to my printer, and ate a bit, and did
business of mischief with him, and I shall have the spectacles and Miscellany
to-morrow, and leave them with Leigh. A fine day always makes me go into the
City, if I can spare time, because it is exercise; and that does me more good
than anything. I have heard nothing since of my head, but a little, I don't
know how, sometimes: but I am very temperate, especially now the Treasurer is
ill, and the Ministers often at Hampton Court, and the Secretary not yet fixed
in his house, and I hate dining with many of my old acquaintance. Here has
been a fellow discovered going out of the East India House with sixteen
thousand pounds in money and bills; he would have escaped, if he had not been
so uneasy with thirst, that he stole out before his time, and was caught. But
what is that to MD? I wish we had the money, provided the East India Company
was never the worse; you know we must not covet, etc. Our weather, for this
fortnight past, is chequered, a fair and a rainy day: this was very fine, and
I have walked four miles; wish MD would do so, lazy sluttikins.
2. It has rained all day with a continuendo, and I went in a chair to dine
with Mrs. Van; always there in a very rainy day. But I made a shift to come
back afoot. I live a very retired life, pay very few visits, and keep but
very little company; I read no newspapers. I am sorry I sent you the
Examiner, for the printer is going to print them in a small volume: it seems
the author is too proud to have them printed by subscription, though his
friends offered, they say, to make it worth five hundred pounds to him. The
Spectators are likewise printing in a larger and a smaller volume, so I
believe they are going to leave them off, and indeed people grow weary of
them, though they are often prettily written. We have had no news for me to
send you now towards the end of my letter. The Queen has the gout a little:
I hoped the Lord Treasurer would have had it too, but Radcliffe told me
yesterday it was the rheumatism in his knee and foot; however, he mends, and I
hope will be abroad in a short time. I am told they design giving away
several employments before the Parliament sits, which will be the thirteenth
instant. I either do not like, or not understand this policy; and if Lord
Treasurer does not mend soon, they must give them just before the session.
But he is the greatest procrastinator in the world.
3. A fine day this, and I walked a pretty deal. I stuffed the Secretary's
pockets with papers, which he must read and settle at Hampton Court, where he
went to-day, and stays some time. They have no lodgings for me there, so I
can't go, for the town is small, chargeable, and inconvenient. Lord Treasurer
had a very ill night last night, with much pain in his knee and foot, but is
easier to-day.--And so I went to visit Prior about some business, and so he
was not within, and so Sir Andrew Fountaine made me dine to-day again with
Mrs. Van, and I came home soon, remembering this must go to-night, and that I
had a letter of MD's to answer. O Lord, where is it? let me see; so, so, here
it is. You grudge writing so soon. Pox on that bill! the woman would have me
manage that money for her. I do not know what to do with it now I have it: I
am like the unprofitable steward in the Gospel: I laid it up in a napkin;
there thou hast what is thine own, etc. Well, well, I know of your new Mayor.
(I'll tell you a pun: a fishmonger owed a man two crowns; so he sent him a
piece of bad ling and a tench, and then said he was paid: how is that now?
find it out; for I won't tell it you: which of you finds it out?) Well, but
as I was saying, what care I for your Mayor? I fancy Ford may tell Forbes
right about my returning to Ireland before Christmas, or soon after. I'm
sorry you did not go on with your story about Pray God you be John; I never
heard it in my life, and wonder what it can be.--Ah, Stella, faith, you leaned
upon your Bible to think what to say when you writ that. Yes, that story of
the Secretary's making me an example is true; "never heard it before;" why,
how could you hear it? is it possible to tell you the hundredth part of what
passes in our companies here? The Secretary is as easy with me as Mr. Addison
was. I have often thought what a splutter Sir William Temple makes about
being Secretary of State:[11] I think Mr. St. John the greatest young man I
ever knew; wit, capacity, beauty, quickness of apprehension, good learning,
and an excellent taste; the best orator in the House of Commons, admirable
conversation, good nature, and good manners; generous, and a despiser of
money. His only fault is talking to his friends in way of complaint of too
great a load of business, which looks a little like affectation; and he
endeavours too much to mix the fine gentleman and man of pleasure with the man
of business. What truth and sincerity he may have I know not: he is now but
thirty-two, and has been Secretary above a year. Is not all this
extraordinary? how he stands with the Queen and Lord Treasurer I have told you
before. This is his character; and I believe you will be diverted by knowing
it. I writ to the Archbishop of Dublin, Bishop of Cloyne[12] and of Clogher
together, five weeks ago from Windsor: I hope they had my letters; pray know
if Clogher had his.--Fig for your physician and his advice, Madam Dingley: if
I grow worse, I will; otherwise I will trust to temperance and exercise: your
fall of the leaf; what care I when the leaves fall? I am sorry to see them
fall with all my heart; but why should I take physic because leaves fall off
from trees? that won't hinder them from falling. If a man falls from a horse,
must I take physic for that?--This arguing makes you mad; but it is true right
reason, not to be disproved.--I am glad at heart to hear poor Stella is
better; use exercise and walk, spend pattens and spare potions, wear out clogs
and waste claret. Have you found out my pun of the fishmonger? don't read a
word more till you have got it. And Stella is handsome again, you say? and is
she fat? I have sent to Leigh the set of Examiners: the first thirteen were
written by several hands, some good, some bad; the next three-and-thirty were
all by one hand, that makes forty-six: then that author,[13] whoever he was,
laid it down on purpose to confound guessers; and the last six were written by
a woman.[14] Then there is an account of Guiscard by the same woman, but the
facts sent by Presto. Then an answer to the letter to the Lords about Gregg
by Presto; Prior's Journey by Presto; Vindication of the Duke of Marlborough,
entirely by the same woman; Comment on Hare's Sermon by the same woman, only
hints sent to the printer from Presto to give her.[15] Then there's the
Miscellany, an apron for Stella, a pound of chocolate, without sugar, for
Stella, a fine snuff-rasp of ivory, given me by Mrs. St. John for Dingley, and
a large roll of tobacco, which she must hide or cut shorter out of modesty,
and four pair of spectacles for the Lord knows who. There's the cargo, I hope
it will come safe. Oh, Mrs. Masham and I are very well; we write to one
another, but it is upon business; I believe I told you so before: pray pardon
my forgetfulness in these cases; poor Presto can't help it. MD shall have the
money as soon as Tooke gets it. And so I think I have answered all, and the
paper is out, and now I have fetched up my week, and will send you another
this day fortnight.--Why, you rogues, two crowns make TENCH-ILL-LING:[16] you
are so dull you could never have found it out. Farewell, etc. etc.
