CHELSEA, _April_ 28, 1711.
AT night. I say at night, because I finished my twenty-first this
morning here, and put it into the post-office my own self, like a good
boy. I think I am a little before you now, young women: I am writing my
twenty-second, and have received your thirteenth. I got to town between
twelve and one, and put on my new gown and periwig, and dined with Lord
Abercorn, where I had not been since the marriage of his son Lord
Peasley, {205a} who has got ten thousand pounds with a wife. I am now a
country gentleman. I walked home as I went, and am a little weary, and
am got into bed: I hope in God the air and exercise will do me a little
good. I have been inquiring about statues for Mrs. Ashe: I made Lady
Abercorn {205b} go with me; and will send them word next post to Clogher.
I hate to buy for her: I am sure she will maunder. I am going to study.
29. I had a charming walk to and from town to-day: I washed, shaved and
all, and changed gown and periwig, by half an hour after nine, and went
to the Secretary, who told me how he had differed with his friends in
Parliament: I apprehended this division, and told him a great deal of it.
I went to Court, and there several mentioned it to me as what they much
disliked. I dined with the Secretary; and we proposed doing some
business of importance in the afternoon, which he broke to me first, and
said how he and Mr. Harley were convinced of the necessity of it; yet he
suffered one of his under-secretaries to come upon us after dinner, who
stayed till six, and so nothing was done: and what care I? he shall send
to me the next time, and ask twice. To-morrow I go to the election at
Westminster School, where lads are chosen for the University: they say it
is a sight, and a great trial of wits. Our Expedition Fleet is but just
sailed: I believe it will come to nothing. Mr. Secretary frets at their
tediousness, but hopes great things from it, though he owns four or five
princes are in the secret; and, for that reason, I fear it is no secret
to France. There are eight regiments; and the Admiral {206a} is your
Walker’s brother the midwife.
30. Morn. I am here in a pretty pickle: it rains hard; and the cunning
natives of Chelsea have outwitted me, and taken up all the three stage
coaches. What shall I do? I must go to town: this is your fault. I
cannot walk: I will borrow a coat. This is the blind side of my lodging
out of town; I must expect such inconveniences as these. Faith, I’ll
walk in the rain. Morrow.—At night. I got a gentleman’s chaise by
chance, and so went to town for a shilling, and lie this night in town.
I was at the election of lads at Westminster to-day, and a very silly
thing it is; but they say there will be fine doings to-morrow. I dined
with Dr. Freind, {206b} the second master of the school, with a dozen
parsons and others: Prior would make me stay. Mr. Harley is to hear the
election to-morrow; and we are all to dine with tickets, and hear fine
speeches. ’Tis terrible rainy weather again: I lie at a friend’s in the
City.
May 1. I wish you a merry May Day, and a thousand more. I was baulked
at Westminster; I came too late: I heard no speeches nor verses. They
would not let me in to their dining-place for want of a ticket; and I
would not send in for one, because Mr. Harley excused his coming, and
Atterbury was not there; and I cared not for the rest: and so my friend
Lewis and I dined with Kitt Musgrave, {206c} if you know such a man: and,
the weather mending, I walked gravely home this evening; and so I design
to walk and walk till I am well: I fancy myself a little better already.
How does poor Stella? Dingley is well enough. Go, get you gone, naughty
girl, you are well enough. O dear MD, contrive to have some share of the
country this spring: go to Finglas, or Donnybrook, or Clogher, or
Killala, or Lowth. Have you got your box yet? Yes, yes. Do not write
to me again till this letter goes: I must make haste, that I may write
two for one. Go to the Bath: I hope you are now at the Bath, if you had
a mind to go; or go to Wexford: do something for your living. Have you
given up my lodging, according to order? I have had just now a
compliment from Dean Atterbury’s lady, {207a} to command the garden and
library, and whatever the house affords. I lodge just over against them;
but the Dean is in town with his Convocation: so I have my Dean and
Prolocutor as well as you, young women, though he has not so good wine,
nor so much meat.
2. A fine day, but begins to grow a little warm; and that makes your
little fat Presto sweat in the forehead. Pray, are not the fine buns
sold here in our town; was it not _Rrrrrrrrrare Chelsea buns_? {207b} I
bought one to-day in my walk; it cost me a penny; it was stale, and I did
not like it, as the man said, etc. Sir Andrew Fountaine and I dined at
Mrs. Vanhomrigh’s, and had a flask of my Florence, which lies in their
cellar; and so I came home gravely, and saw nobody of consequence to-day.
I am very easy here, nobody plaguing me in a morning; and Patrick saves
many a score lies. I sent over to Mrs. Atterbury to know whether I might
wait on her; but she is gone a visiting: we have exchanged some
compliments, but I have not seen her yet. We have no news in our town.
3. I did not go to town to-day, it was so terrible rainy; nor have I
stirred out of my room till eight this evening, when I crossed the way to
see Mrs. Atterbury, and thank her for her civilities. She would needs
send me some veal, and small beer, and ale, to-day at dinner; and I have
lived a scurvy, dull, splenetic day, for want of MD: I often thought how
happy I could have been, had it rained eight thousand times more, if MD
had been with a body. My Lord Rochester {208a} is dead this morning;
they say at one o’clock; and I hear he died suddenly. To-morrow I shall
know more. He is a great loss to us: I cannot think who will succeed him
as Lord President. I have been writing a long letter to Lord Peterborow,
and am dull.
4. I dined to-day at Lord Shelburne’s, where Lady Kerry {208b} made me a
present of four India handkerchiefs, which I have a mind to keep for
little MD, only that I had rather, etc. I have been a mighty
handkerchief-monger, and have bought abundance of snuff ones since I have
left off taking snuff. And I am resolved, when I come over, MD shall be
acquainted with Lady Kerry: we have struck up a mighty friendship; and
she has much better sense than any other lady of your country. We are
almost in love with one another: but she is most egregiously ugly; but
perfectly well-bred, and governable as I please. I am resolved, when I
come, to keep no company but MD: you know I kept my resolution last time;
and, except Mr. Addison, conversed with none but you and your club of
deans and Stoytes. ’Tis three weeks, young women, since I had a letter
from you; and yet, methinks, I would not have another for five pounds
till this is gone; and yet I send every day to the Coffee-house, and I
would fain have a letter, and not have a letter: and I do not know what,
nor I do not know how, and this goes on very slow; it is a week to-morrow
since I began it. I am a poor country gentleman, and do not know how the
world passes. Do you know that every syllable I write I hold my lips
just for all the world as if I were talking in our own little language to
MD? Faith, I am very silly; but I cannot help it for my life. I got
home early to-night. My solicitors, that used to ply me every morning,
knew not where to find me; and I am so happy not to hear “Patrick,
Patrick,” called a hundred times every morning. But I looked backward,
and find I have said this before. What care I? Go to the Dean, and
roast the oranges.
5. I dined to-day with my friend Lewis, and we were deep in politics how
to save the present Ministry; for I am afraid of Mr. Secretary, as I
believe I told you. I went in the evening to see Mr. Harley; and, upon
my word, I was in perfect joy. Mr. Secretary was just going out of the
door; but I made him come back, and there was the old Saturday Club, Lord
Keeper, Lord Rivers, Mr. Secretary, Mr. Harley, and I; the first time
since his stabbing. Mr. Secretary went away; but I stayed till nine, and
made Mr. Harley show me his breast, and tell all the story; and I showed
him the Archbishop of Dublin’s letter, and defended him effectually. We
were all in mighty good humour. Lord Keeper and I left them together,
and I walked here after nine two miles, and I found a parson drunk
fighting with a seaman, and Patrick and I were so wise to part them, but
the seaman followed him to Chelsea, cursing at him, and the parson
slipped into a house, and I know no more. It mortified me to see a man
in my coat so overtaken. A pretty scene for one that just came from
sitting with the Prime Ministers! I had no money in my pocket, and so
could not be robbed. However, nothing but Mr. Harley shall make me take
such a journey again. We don’t yet know who will be President in Lord
Rochester’s room. I measured, and found that the penknife would have
killed Mr. Harley if it had gone but half the breadth of my thumb-nail
lower, so near was he to death. I was so curious as to ask him what were
his thoughts while they were carrying him home in the chair. He said he
concluded himself a dead man. He will not allow that Guiscard gave him
the second stab; though my Lord Keeper, who is blind, and I that was not
there, are positive in it. He wears a plaster still as broad as half a
crown. Smoke how wide the lines are, but, faith, I don’t do it on
purpose: but I have changed my side in this new Chelsea bed, and I do not
know how, methinks, but it is so unfit, and so awkward, never saw the
like.
6. You must remember to enclose your letters in a fair paper, and direct
the outside thus: “To Erasmus Lewis, Esq.; at my Lord Dartmouth’s office
at Whitehall.” I said so before, but it may miscarry, you know, yet I
think none of my letters did ever miscarry; faith, I think never one;
among all the privateers and the storms. O, faith, my letters are too
good to be lost. MD’s letters may tarry, but never miscarry, as the old
woman used to say. And indeed, how should they miscarry, when they never
come before their time? It was a terrible rainy day; yet I made a shift
to steal fair weather overhead enough to go and come in. I was early
with the Secretary, and dined with him afterwards. In the morning I
began to chide him, and tell him my fears of his proceedings. But Arthur
Moore {210a} came up and relieved him. But I forgot, for you never heard
of Arthur Moore. But when I get Mr. Harley alone, I will know the
bottom. You will have Dr. Raymond over before this letter, and what care
you?
7. I hope and believe my walks every day do me good. I was busy at
home, and set out late this morning, and dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, at
whose lodgings I always change my gown and periwig. I visited this
afternoon, and among others, poor Biddy Floyd, {210b} who is very red,
but I believe won’t be much marked. As I was coming home, I met Sir
George Beaumont {210c} in the Pall Mall, who would needs walk with me as
far as Buckingham House. I was telling him of my head; he said he had
been ill of the same disorder, and by all means forbid me bohea tea,
which, he said, always gave it him; and that Dr. Radcliffe said it was
very bad. Now I had observed the same thing, and have left it off this
month, having found myself ill after it several times; and I mention it
that Stella may consider it for her own poor little head: a pound lies
ready packed up and directed for Mrs. Walls, to be sent by the first
convenience. Mr. Secretary told me yesterday that Mr. Harley would this
week be Lord Treasurer and a peer; so I expect it every day; yet perhaps
it may not be till Parliament is up, which will be in a fortnight.
8. I was to-day with the Duke of Ormond, and recommended to him the care
of poor Joe Beaumont, who promises me to do him all justice and favour,
and give him encouragement; and desired I would give a memorial to Ned
Southwell about it, which I will, and so tell Joe when you see him,
though he knows it already by a letter I writ to Mr. Warburton. {211a}
It was bloody hot walking to-day. I dined in the City, and went and came
by water; and it rained so this evening again, that I thought I should
hardly be able to get a dry hour to walk home in. I will send to-morrow
to the Coffee-house for a letter from MD; but I would not have one
methinks till this is gone, as it shall on Saturday. I visited the
Duchess of Ormond this morning; she does not go over with the Duke. I
spoke to her to get a lad touched for the evil, {211b} the son of a
grocer in Capel Street, one Bell; the ladies have bought sugar and plums
of him. Mrs. Mary used to go there often. This is Patrick’s account;
and the poor fellow has been here some months with his boy. But the
Queen has not been able to touch, and it now grows so warm, I fear she
will not at all. Go, go, go to the Dean’s, and let him carry you to
Donnybrook, and cut asparagus. Has Parvisol sent you any this year? I
cannot sleep in the beginnings of the nights, the heat or something
hinders me, and I am drowsy in the mornings.
9. Dr. Freind came this morning to visit Atterbury’s lady and children
as physician, and persuaded me to go with him to town in his chariot. He
told me he had been an hour before with Sir Cholmley Dering, Charles
Dering’s nephew, and head of that family in Kent, for which he is Knight
of the shire. He said he left him dying of a pistol-shot quite through
the body, by one Mr. Thornhill. {212a} They fought at sword and pistol
this morning in Tuttle Fields, {212b} their pistols so near that the
muzzles touched. Thornhill discharged first; and Dering, having received
the shot, discharged his pistol as he was falling, so it went into the
air. The story of this quarrel is long. Thornhill had lost seven teeth
by a kick in the mouth from Dering, who had first knocked him down; this
was above a fortnight ago. Dering was next week to be married to a fine
young lady. This makes a noise here, but you will not value it. Well,
Mr. Harley, Lord Keeper, and one or two more, are to be made lords
immediately; their patents are now passing, and I read the preamble to
Mr. Harley’s, full of his praises. Lewis and I dined with Ford: I found
the wine; two flasks of my Florence, and two bottles of six that Dr.
Raymond sent me of French wine; he sent it to me to drink with Sir Robert
Raymond and Mr. Harley’s brother, {212c} whom I had introduced him to;
but they never could find time to come; and now I have left the town, and
it is too late. Raymond will think it a cheat. What care I, sirrah?
10. Pshaw, pshaw. Patrick brought me four letters to-day: from Dilly at
Bath; Joe; Parvisol; and what was the fourth, who can tell? Stand away,
who’ll guess? Who can it be? You old man with a stick, can you tell who
the fourth is from? Iss, an please your honour, it is from one Madam MD,
Number Fourteen. Well; but I can’t send this away now, because it was
here, and I was in town; but it shall go on Saturday, and this is
Thursday night, and it will be time enough for Wexford. Take my method:
I write here to Parvisol to lend Stella twenty pounds, and to take her
note promissory to pay it in half a year, etc. You shall see, and if you
want more, let me know afterwards; and be sure my money shall be always
paid constantly too. Have you been good or ill housewives, pray?
11. Joe has written me to get him a collector’s place, nothing less; he
says all the world knows of my great intimacy with Mr. Harley, and that
the smallest word to him will do. This is the constant cant of puppies
who are at a distance, and strangers to Courts and Ministers. My answer
is this, which pray send: that I am ready to serve Joe as far as I can;
that I have spoken to the Duke of Ormond about his money, as I writ to
Warburton; that for the particular he mentions, it is a work of time,
which I cannot think of at present; but, if accidents and opportunities
should happen hereafter, I would not be wanting; that I know best how far
my credit goes; that he is at a distance, and cannot judge; that I would
be glad to do him good, and if fortune throws an opportunity in my way I
shall not be wanting. This is my answer, which you may send or read to
him. Pray contrive that Parvisol may not run away with my two hundred
pounds; but get Burton’s {213} note, and let the money be returned me by
bill. Don’t laugh, for I will be suspicious. Teach Parvisol to enclose,
and direct the outside to Mr. Lewis. I will answer your letter in my
next, only what I take notice of here excepted. I forgot to tell you
that at the Court of Requests to-day I could not find a dinner I liked,
and it grew late, and I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, etc.
12. Morning. I will finish this letter before I go to town, because I
shall be busy, and have neither time nor place there. Farewell, etc.
etc.