LETTER 44.[1]
LONDON, March 22, 1711-12.
Ugly, nasty weather. I was in the City to-day with Mrs. Wesley and Mrs.
Perceval, to get money from a banker for Mrs. Wesley, who goes to Bath on
Thursday. I left them there, and dined with a friend, and went to see Lord
Treasurer; but he had people with him I did not know: so I went to Lady
Masham's, and lost a crown with her at picquet, and then sat with Lord Masham
and Lord Treasurer, etc., there till past one; but I had my man with me, to
come home. I gave in my forty-third, and one for the Bishop of Clogher, to
the post-office, as I came from the City; and so oo know 'tis late now, and I
have nothing to say for this day. Our Mohocks are all vanished; however, I
shall take care of my person. Nite my own two deelest nuntyes MD.
23. I was this morning, before church, with the Secretary, about Lord
Abercorn's business, and some others. My soliciting season is come, and will
last as long as the session. I went late to Court, and the company was almost
gone. The Court serves me for a coffee-house; once a week I meet acquaintance
there, that I should not otherwise see in a quarter. There is a flying report
that the French have offered a cessation of arms, and to give us Dunkirk, and
the Dutch Namur, for security, till the peace is made. The Duke of Ormond,
they say, goes in a week. Abundance of his equipage is already gone. His[2]
friends are afraid the expense of this employment will ruin him, since he must
lose the government of Ireland. I dined privately with a friend, and refused
all dinners offered me at Court; which, however, were but two, and I did not
like either. Did I tell you of a scoundrel about the Court that sells
employments to ignorant people, and cheats them of their money? He lately
made a bargain for the Vice-Chamberlain's place, for seven thousand pounds,
and had received some guineas earnest; but the whole thing was discovered
t'other day, and examination taken of it by Lord Dartmouth, and I hope he will
be swinged. The Vice-Chamberlain told me several particulars of it last night
at Lord Masham's. Can DD play at ombre yet, enough to hold the cards while
Ppt steps into the next room? Nite deelest sollahs.[3]
24. This morning I recommended Newcomb again to the Duke of Ormond, and left
Dick Stewart[4] to do it further. Then I went to visit the Duchess of
Hamilton, who was not awake. So I went to the Duchess of Shrewsbury, and sat
an hour at her toilet. I talked to her about the Duke's being Lord
Lieutenant. She said she knew nothing of it; but I rallied her out of that,
and she resolves not to stay behind the Duke. I intend to recommend the
Bishop of Clogher to her for an acquaintance. He will like her very well:
she is, indeed, a most agreeable woman, and a great favourite of mine. I know
not whether the ladies in Ireland will like her. I was at the Court of
Requests, to get some lords to be at a committee to-morrow, about a friend's
Bill: and then the Duke of Beaufort gave me a poem, finely bound in folio,
printed at Stamford, and writ by a country squire. Lord Exeter[5] desired the
Duke to give it the Queen, because the author is his friend; but the Duke
desired I would let him know whether it was good for anything. I brought it
home, and will return it to-morrow, as the dullest thing I ever read; and
advise the Duke not to present it. I dined with Domville at his lodgings, by
invitation; for he goes in a few days for Ireland. Nite dee MD.
25. There is a mighty feast at a Tory sheriff's to-day in the City: twelve
hundred dishes of meat.--Above five lords, and several hundred gentlemen, will
be there, and give four or five guineas apiece, according to custom. Dr.
Coghill and I dined, by invitation, at Mrs. Van's. It has rained or mizzled
all day, as my pockets feel. There are two new answers come out to the
Conduct of the Allies. The last year's Examiners, printed together in a small
volume, go off but slowly. The printer over-printed himself by at least a
thousand; so soon out of fashion are party papers, however so well writ. The
Medleys are coming out in the same volume, and perhaps may sell better. Our
news about a cessation of arms begins to flag, and I have not these three days
seen anybody in business to ask them about it. We had a terrible fire last
night in Drury Lane, or thereabouts, and three or four people destroyed. One
of the maids of honour has the smallpox; but the best is, she can lose no
beauty; and we have one new handsome maid of honour. Nite MD.
26. I forgot to tell you that on Sunday last, about seven at night, it
lightened above fifty times as I walked the Mall, which I think is
extraordinary at this time of the year, and the weather was very hot. Had you
anything of this in Dublin? I intended to dine with Lord Treasurer to-day;
but Lord Mansel and Mr. Lewis made me dine with them at Kit Musgrave's.[6] I
sat the evening with Mrs. Wesley, who goes to-morrow morning to the Bath. She
is much better than she was. The news of the French desiring a cessation of
arms, etc., was but town talk. We shall know in a few days, as I am told,
whether there will be a peace or not. The Duke of Ormond will go in a week
for Flanders, they say. Our Mohocks go on still, and cut people's faces every
night; fais, they shan't cut mine, I like it better as it is. The dogs will
cost me at least a crown a week in chairs. I believe the souls of your
houghers of cattle have got into them, and now they don't distinguish between
a cow and a Christian. I forgot to wish you yesterday a happy New Year. You
know the twenty-fifth of March is the first day of the year, and now you must
leave off cards, and put out your fire. I'll put out mine the first of April,
cold or not cold. I believe I shall lose credit with you by not coming over
at the beginning of April; but I hoped the session would be ended, and I must
stay till then; yet I would fain be at the beginning of my willows growing.
Perceval tells me that the quicksets upon the flat in the garden do not grow
so well as those famous ones on the ditch. They want digging about them. The
cherry-trees, by the river-side, my heart is set upon. Nite MD.
27. Society day. You know that, I suppose. Dr. Arthburnett[7] was
President. His dinner was dressed in the Queen's kitchen, and was mighty
fine. We ate it at Ozinda's Chocolate-house,[8] just by St. James's. We were
never merrier, nor better company, and did not part till after eleven. I did
not summon Lord Lansdowne: he and I are fallen out. There was something in
an Examiner a fortnight ago that he thought reflected on the abuses in his
office (he is Secretary at War), and he writ to the Secretary that he heard I
had inserted that paragraph. This I resented highly, that he should complain
of me before he spoke to me. I sent him a peppering letter, and would not
summon him by a note, as I did the rest; nor ever will have anything to say to
him, till he begs my pardon. I met Lord Treasurer to-day at Lady Masham's.
He would fain have carried me home to dinner, but I begged his pardon. What!
upon a Society day! No, no. 'Tis rate, sollahs. I an't dlunk. Nite MD.
28. I was with my friend Lewis to-day, getting materials for a little
mischief; and I dined with Lord Treasurer, and three or four fellows I never
saw before. I left them at seven, and came home, and have been writing to the
Archbishop of Dublin, and cousin Deane,[9] in answer to one of his of four
months old, that I spied by chance, routing among my papers. I have a pain
these two days exactly upon the top of my left shoulder. I fear it is
something rheumatic; it winches[10] now and then. Shall I put flannel to it?
Domville is going to Ireland; he came here this morning to take leave of me,
but I shall dine with him to-morrow. Does the Bishop of Clogher talk of
coming for England this summer? I think Lord Molesworth told me so about two
months ago. The weather is bad again; rainy and very cold this evening. Do
you know what the longitude is? A projector[11] has been applying himself to
me, to recommend him to the Ministry, because he pretends to have found out
the longitude. I believe he has no more found it out than he has found out
mine. . .[12] However, I will gravely hear what he says, and discover him a
knave or fool. Nite MD.
29. I am plagued with these pains in my shoulder; I believe it is rheumatic;
I will do something for it to-night. Mr. Lewis and I dined with Mr. Domville,
to take our leave of him. I drank three or four glasses of champagne by
perfect teasing, though it is bad for my pain; but if it continue, I will not
drink any wine without water till I am well. The weather is abominably cold
and wet. I am got into bed, and have put some old flannel, for want of new,
to my shoulder, and rubbed it with Hungary water.[13] It is plaguy hard. I
never would drink any wine, if it were not for my head, and drinking has given
me this pain. I will try abstemiousness for a while. How does MD do now; how
does DD and Ppt? You must know I hate pain, as the old woman said. But I'll
try to go seep. My flesh sucks up Hungary water rarely. My man is an awkward
rascal, and makes me peevish. Do you know that t'other day he was forced to
beg my pardon, that he could not shave my head, his hand shook so? He is
drunk every day, and I design to turn him off soon as ever I get to Ireland.
I'll write no more now, but go to sleep, and see whether sleep and flannel
will cure my shoulder. Nite deelest MD.
30. I was not able to go to church or Court to-day for my shoulder. The pain
has left my shoulder, and crept to my neck and collar-bone. It makes me think
of poo Ppt's bladebone. Urge, urge, urge; dogs gnawing. I went in a chair at
two, and dined with Mrs. Van, where I could be easy, and came back at seven.
My Hungary water is gone; and to-night I use spirits of wine, which my
landlady tells me is very good. It has rained terribly all day long, and is
extremely cold. I am very uneasy, and such cruel twinges every moment! Nite
deelest MD.
31. April 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. All these days I have been extremely ill,
though I twice crawled out a week ago; but am now recovering, though very
weak. The violence of my pain abated the night before last: I will just tell
you how I was, and then send away this letter, which ought to have gone
Saturday last. The pain increased with mighty violence in my left shoulder
and collar-bone, and that side my neck. On Thursday morning appeared great
red spots in all those places where my pain was, and the violence of the pain
was confined to my neck behind, a little on the left side; which was so
violent that I had not a minute's ease, nor hardly a minute's sleep in three
days and nights. The spots increased every day, and bred little pimples,
which are now grown white, and full of corruption, though small. The red
still continues too, and most prodigious hot and inflamed. The disease is the
shingles. I eat nothing but water-gruel; am very weak; but out of all violent
pain. The doctors say it would have ended in some violent disease if it had
not come out thus. I shall now recover fast. I have been in no danger of
life, but miserable torture. I must not write too much. So adieu, deelest MD
MD MD FW FW, ME ME ME, Lele. I can say lele yet, oo see. Fais, I don't
conceal a bit, as hope saved.[14]
I[15] must purge and clyster after this; and my next letter will not be in the
old order of journal, till I have done with physic. An't oo surprised to see
a letter want half a side?
