LONDON, _Sept._ 21, 1710.
HERE must I begin another letter, on a whole sheet, for fear saucy little
MD should be angry, and think _much_ that the paper is too _little_. I
had your letter this night, as told you just and no more in my last; for
this must be taken up in answering yours, saucebox. I believe I told you
where I dined to-day; and to-morrow I go out of town for two days to dine
with the same company on Sunday; Molesworth {16a} the Florence Envoy,
Stratford, and some others. I heard to-day that a gentlewoman from Lady
Giffard’s house had been at the Coffee-house to inquire for me. It was
Stella’s mother, I suppose. I shall send her a penny-post letter {16b}
to-morrow, and contrive to see her without hazarding seeing Lady Giffard,
which I will not do until she begs my pardon.
22. I dined to-day at Hampstead with Lady Lucy, etc., and when I got
home found a letter from Joe, with one enclosed to Lord Wharton, which I
will send to his Excellency, and second it as well as I can; but to talk
of getting the Queen’s order is a jest. Things are in such a combustion
here, that I am advised not to meddle yet in the affair I am upon, which
concerns the clergy of a whole kingdom; and does he think anybody will
trouble the Queen about Joe? We shall, I hope, get a recommendation from
the Lord Lieutenant to the trustees for the linen business, and I hope
that will do; and so I will write to him in a few days, and he must have
patience. This is an answer to part of your letter as well as his. I
lied; it is to-morrow I go to the country, and I won’t answer a bit more
of your letter yet.
23. Here is such a stir and bustle with this little MD of ours; I must
be writing every night; I can’t go to bed without a word to them; I can’t
put out my candle till I have bid them good-night: O Lord, O Lord! Well,
I dined the first time to-day, with Will Frankland and his fortune: she
is not very handsome. Did I not say I would go out of town to-day? I
hate lying abroad and clutter; I go to-morrow in Frankland’s chariot, and
come back at night. Lady Berkeley has invited me to Berkeley Castle, and
Lady Betty Germaine {17a} to Drayton in Northamptonshire; and I’ll go to
neither. Let me alone, I must finish my pamphlet. I have sent a long
letter to Bickerstaff: {17b} let the Bishop of Clogher smoke {17c} it if
he can. Well, I’ll write to the Bishop of Killala; but you might have
told him how sudden and unexpected my journey was though. Deuce take
Lady S—; and if I know D—y, he is a rawboned-faced fellow, not handsome,
nor visibly so young as you say: she sacrifices two thousand pounds a
year, and keeps only six hundred. Well, you have had all my land journey
in my second letter, and so much for that. So, you have got into
Presto’s lodgings; very fine, truly! We have had a fortnight of the most
glorious weather on earth, and still continues: I hope you have made the
best of it. Ballygall {17d} will be a pure {17e} good place for air, if
Mrs. Ashe makes good her promise. Stella writes like an emperor: I am
afraid it hurts your eyes; take care of that pray, pray, Mrs. Stella.
Can’t you do what you will with your own horse? Pray don’t let that
puppy Parvisol sell him. Patrick is drunk about three times a week, and
I bear it, and he has got the better of me; but one of these days I will
positively turn him off to the wide world, when none of you are by to
intercede for him.—Stuff—how can I get her husband into the
Charter-house? get a — into the Charter-house.—Write constantly! Why,
sirrah, don’t I write every day, and sometimes twice a day to MD? Now I
have answered all your letter, and the rest must be as it can be: send me
my bill. Tell Mrs. Brent {18a} what I say of the Charter-house. I think
this enough for one night; and so farewell till this time to-morrow.
24. To-day I dined six miles out of town at Will Pate’s, with Stratford,
Frankland, and the Molesworths, {18b} and came home at night, and was
weary and lazy. I can say no more now, but good-night.
25. I was so lazy to-day that I dined at next door, {18c} and have sat
at home since six, writing to the Bishop of Clogher, Dean Sterne, and Mr.
Manley: the last, because I am in fear for him about his place, and have
sent him my opinion, what I and his other friends here think he ought to
do. I hope he will take it well. My advice was, to keep as much in
favour as possible with Sir Thomas Frankland, his master here.
26. Smoke how I widen the margin by lying in bed when I write. My bed
lies on the wrong side for me, so that I am forced often to write when I
am up. Manley, you must know, has had people putting in for his place
already; and has been complained of for opening letters. Remember that
last Sunday, September 24, 1710, was as hot as midsummer. This was
written in the morning; it is now night, and Presto in bed. Here’s a
clutter, I have gotten MD’s second letter, and I must answer it here. I
gave the bill to Tooke, and so— Well, I dined to-day with Sir John
Holland the Comptroller, and sat with him till eight; then came home, and
sent my letters, and writ part of a lampoon, {18d} which goes on very
slow: and now I am writing to saucy MD; no wonder, indeed, good boys must
write to naughty girls. I have not seen your mother yet; my penny-post
letter, I suppose, miscarried: I will write another. Mr. S— came to see
me; and said M— was going to the country next morning with her husband
(who I find is a surly brute); so I could only desire my service to her.
27. To-day all our company dined at Will Frankland’s, with Steele and
Addison too. This is the first rainy day since I came to town; I cannot
afford to answer your letter yet. Morgan, {19a} the puppy, writ me a
long letter, to desire I would recommend him for purse-bearer or
secretary to the next Lord Chancellor that would come with the next
Governor. I will not answer him; but beg you will say these words to his
father Raymond, {19b} or anybody that will tell him: That Dr. Swift has
received his letter; and would be very ready to serve him, but cannot do
it in what he desires, because he has no sort of interest in the persons
to be applied to. These words you may write, and let Joe, or Mr.
Warburton, {19c} give them to him: a pox on him! However, it is by these
sort of ways that fools get preferment. I must not end yet, because I
cannot say good-night without losing a line, and then MD would scold; but
now, good-night.
28. I have the finest piece of Brazil tobacco for Dingley that ever was
born. {19d} You talk of Leigh; why, he won’t be in Dublin these two
months: he goes to the country, then returns to London, to see how the
world goes here in Parliament. Good-night, sirrahs; no, no, not night; I
writ this in the morning, and looking carelessly I thought it had been of
last night. I dined to-day with Mrs. Barton {20a} alone at her lodgings;
where she told me for certain, that Lady S— {20b} was with child when she
was last in England, and pretended a tympany, and saw everybody; then
disappeared for three weeks, her tympany was gone, and she looked like a
ghost, etc. No wonder she married when she was so ill at containing.
Connolly {20c} is out; and Mr. Roberts in his place, who loses a better
here, but was formerly a Commissioner in Ireland. That employment cost
Connolly three thousand pounds to Lord Wharton; so he has made one ill
bargain in his life.
29. I wish MD a merry Michaelmas. I dined with Mr. Addison, and Jervas
the painter, at Addison’s country place; and then came home, and writ
more to my lampoon. I made a _Tatler_ since I came: guess which it is,
and whether the Bishop of Clogher smokes it. I saw Mr. Sterne {20d}
to-day: he will do as you order, and I will give him chocolate for
Stella’s health. He goes not these three weeks. I wish I could send it
some other way. So now to your letter, brave boys. I don’t like your
way of saving shillings: nothing vexes me but that it does not make
Stella a coward in a coach. {20e} I don’t think any lady’s advice about
my ear signifies twopence: however I will, in compliance to you, ask Dr.
Cockburn. Radcliffe {21a} I know not, and Barnard {21b} I never see.
Walls will certainly be stingier for seven years, upon pretence of his
robbery. So Stella puns again; why, ’tis well enough; but I’ll not
second it, though I could make a dozen: I never thought of a pun since I
left Ireland.—Bishop of Clogher’s bill? Why, he paid it to me; do you
think I was such a fool to go without it? As for the four shillings, I
will give you a bill on Parvisol for it on t’other side of this paper;
and pray tear off the two letters I shall write to him and Joe, or let
Dingley transcribe and send them; though that to Parvisol, I believe, he
must have my hand for. No, no, I’ll eat no grapes; I ate about six the
other day at Sir John Holland’s; but would not give sixpence for a
thousand, they are so bad this year. Yes, faith, I hope in God Presto
and MD will be together this time twelvemonth. What then? Last year I
suppose I was at Laracor; but next I hope to eat my Michaelmas goose at
my two little gooses’ lodgings. I drink no _aile_ (I suppose you mean
_ale_); but yet good wine every day, of five and six shillings a bottle.
O Lord, how much Stella writes! pray don’t carry that too far, young
women, but be temperate, to hold out. To-morrow I go to Mr. Harley.
{21c} Why, small hopes from the Duke of Ormond: he loves me very well, I
believe, and would, in my turn, give me something to make me easy; and I
have good interest among his best friends. But I don’t think of anything
further than the business I am upon. You see I writ to Manley before I
had your letter, and I fear he will be out. Yes, Mrs. Owl, Bligh’s
corpse {22a} came to Chester when I was there; and I told you so in my
letter, or forgot it. I lodge in Bury Street, where I removed a week
ago. I have the first floor, a dining-room, and bed-chamber, at eight
shillings a week; plaguy deep, but I spend nothing for eating, never go
to a tavern, and very seldom in a coach; yet after all it will be
expensive. Why do you trouble yourself, Mistress Stella, about my
instrument? I have the same the Archbishop gave me; and it is as good
now the bishops are away. The Dean friendly! the Dean be poxed: a great
piece of friendship indeed, what you heard him tell the Bishop of
Clogher; I wonder he had the face to talk so: but he lent me money, and
that’s enough. Faith, I would not send this these four days, only for
writing to Joe and Parvisol. Tell the Dean that when the bishops send me
any packets, they must not write to me at Mr. Steele’s; but direct for
Mr. Steele, at his office at the Cockpit, and let the enclosed be
directed for me: that mistake cost me eighteenpence the other day.
30. I dined with Stratford to-day, but am not to see Mr. Harley till
Wednesday: it is late, and I send this before there is occasion for the
bell; because I would have Joe have his letter, and Parvisol too; which
you must so contrive as not to cost them double postage. I can say no
more, but that I am, etc.