WINDSOR, _Aug._ 11, 1711.
I SENT away my twenty-seventh this morning in an express to London, and
directed to Mr. Reading: this shall go to your lodgings, where I reckon
you will be returned before it reaches you. I intended to go to the race
{268b} to-day, but was hindered by a visit: I believe I told you so in my
last. I dined to-day at the Green Cloth, where everybody had been at the
race but myself, and we were twenty in all, and very noisy company; but I
made the Vice-Chamberlain and two friends more sit at a side table, to be
a little quiet. At six I went to see the Secretary, who is returned; but
Lord Keeper sent to desire I would sup with him, where I stayed till just
now: Lord Treasurer and Secretary were to come to us, but both failed.
’Tis late, etc.
12. I was this morning to visit Lord Keeper, who made me reproaches that
I had never visited him at Windsor. He had a present sent him of
delicious peaches, and he was champing and champing, but I durst not eat
one; I wished Dingley had some of them, for poor Stella can no more eat
fruit than Presto. Dilly Ashe is come to Windsor; and after church I
carried him up to the drawing-room, and talked to the Keeper and
Treasurer, on purpose to show them to him; and he saw the Queen and
several great lords, and the Duchess of Montagu; {269a} he was mighty
happy, and resolves to fill a letter to the Bishop. {269b} My friend
Lewis and I dined soberly with Dr. Adams, {269c} the only neighbour
prebendary. One of the prebendaries here is lately a peer, by the death
of his father. He is now Lord Willoughby of Broke, {269d} and will sit
in the House of Lords with his gown. I supped to-night at Masham’s with
Lord Treasurer, Mr. Secretary, and Prior. The Treasurer made us stay
till twelve, before he came from the Queen, and ’tis now past two.
13. I reckoned upon going to London to-day; but by an accident the
Cabinet Council did not sit last night, and sat to-day, so we go
to-morrow at six in the morning. I missed the race to-day by coming out
too late, when everybody’s coach was gone, and ride I would not: I felt
my last riding three days after. We had a dinner to-day at the
Secretary’s lodgings without him: Mr. Hare, {269e} his Under Secretary,
Mr. Lewis, Brigadier Sutton, {269f} and I, dined together; and I made the
Vice-Chamberlain take a snap with us, rather than stay till five for his
lady, who was gone to the race. The reason why the Cabinet Council was
not held last night was because Mr. Secretary St. John would not sit with
your Duke of Somerset. {270a} So to-day the Duke was forced to go to the
race while the Cabinet was held. We have music-meetings in our town, and
I was at the rehearsal t’other day; but I did not value it, nor would go
to the meeting. Did I tell you this before?
London, 14. We came to town this day in two hours and forty minutes:
twenty miles are nothing here. I found a letter from the Archbishop of
Dublin, sent me the Lord knows how. He says some of the bishops will
hardly believe that Lord Treasurer got the Queen to remit the
First-Fruits before the Duke of Ormond was declared Lord Lieutenant, and
that the bishops have written a letter to Lord Treasurer to thank him.
He has sent me the address of the Convocation, ascribing, in good part,
that affair to the Duke, who had less share in it than MD; for if it had
not been for MD, I should not have been so good a solicitor. I dined
to-day in the City, about a little bit of mischief, with a printer.—I
found Mrs. Vanhomrigh all in combustion, squabbling with her rogue of a
landlord; she has left her house, and gone out of our neighbourhood a
good way. Her eldest daughter is come of age, and going to Ireland to
look after her fortune, and get it in her own hands. {270b}
15. I dined to-day with Mrs. Van, who goes to-night to her new lodgings.
I went at six to see Lord Treasurer; but his company was gone, contrary
to custom, and he was busy, and I was forced to stay some time before I
could see him. We were together hardly an hour, and he went away, being
in haste. He desired me to dine with him on Friday, because there would
be a friend of his that I must see: my Lord Harley told me, when he was
gone, that it was Mrs. Masham his father meant, who is come to town to
lie-in, and whom I never saw, though her husband is one of our Society.
God send her a good time! her death would be a terrible thing. {271a}—Do
you know that I have ventured all my credit with these great Ministers,
to clear some misunderstandings betwixt them; and if there be no breach,
I ought to have the merit of it. ’Tis a plaguy ticklish piece of work,
and a man hazards losing both sides. It is a pity the world does not
know my virtue.—I thought the clergy in Convocation in Ireland would have
given me thanks for being their solicitor; but I hear of no such thing.
Pray talk occasionally on that subject, and let me know what you hear.
Do you know the greatness of my spirit, that I value their thanks not a
rush, but at my return shall freely let all people know that it was my
Lord Treasurer’s action, wherein the Duke of Ormond had no more share
than a cat? And so they may go whistle, and I’ll go sleep.
16. I was this day in the City, and dined at Pontack’s {271b} with
Stratford, and two other merchants. Pontack told us, although his wine
was so good, he sold it cheaper than others; he took but seven shillings
a flask. Are not these pretty rates? The books he sent for from Hamburg
are come, but not yet got out of the custom-house. My library will be at
least double when I come back. I shall go to Windsor again on Saturday,
to meet our Society, who are to sup at Mr. Secretary’s; but I believe I
shall return on Monday, and then I will answer your letter, that lies
here safe underneath;—I see it; lie still: I will answer you when the
ducks have eaten up the dirt.
17. I dined to-day at Lord Treasurer’s with Mrs. Masham, and she is
extremely like one Mrs. Malolly, that was once my landlady in Trim. She
was used with mighty kindness and respect, like a favourite. It
signifies nothing going to this Lord Treasurer about business, although
it be his own. He was in haste, and desires I will come again, and dine
with him to-morrow. His famous lying porter is fallen sick, and they
think he will die: I wish I had all my half-crowns again. I believe I
have told you he is an old Scotch fanatic, and the damn’dest liar in his
office alive. {272a} I have a mind to recommend Patrick to succeed him:
I have trained him up pretty well. I reckon for certain you are now in
town. The weather now begins to alter to rain.
Windsor, 18. I dined to-day with Lord Treasurer, and he would make me go
with him to Windsor, although I was engaged to the Secretary, to whom I
made my excuses: we had in the coach besides, his son and son-in-law,
Lord Harley and Lord Dupplin, who are two of our Society, and seven of us
met by appointment, and supped this night with the Secretary. It was
past nine before we got here, but a fine moonshiny night. I shall go
back, I believe, on Monday. ’Tis very late.
19. The Queen did not stir out to-day, she is in a little fit of the
gout. I dined at Mr. Masham’s; we had none but our Society members, six
in all, and I supped with Lord Treasurer. The Queen has ordered twenty
thousand pounds to go on with the building at Blenheim, which has been
starved till now, since the change of the Ministry. {272b} I suppose it
is to reward his last action of getting into the French lines. {273a}
Lord Treasurer kept me till past twelve.
London, 20. It rained terribly every step of our journey to-day: I
returned with the Secretary after a dinner of cold meat, and went to Mrs.
Van’s, where I sat the evening. I grow very idle, because I have a great
deal of business. Tell me how you passed your time at Wexford; and are
not you glad at heart you have got home safe to your lodgings at St.
Mary’s, pray? And so your friends come to visit you; and Mrs. Walls is
much better of her eye; and the Dean is just as he used to be: and what
does Walls say of London? ’tis a reasoning coxcomb. And Goody Stoyte,
and Hannah what d’ye call her; no, her name an’t Hannah, Catherine I
mean; they were so glad to see the ladies again! and Mrs. Manley wanted a
companion at ombre.
21. I writ to-day to the Archbishop of Dublin, and enclosed a long
politic paper by itself. You know the bishops are all angry (smoke the
wax-candle drop at the bottom of this paper) I have let the world know
the First-Fruits were got by Lord Treasurer before the Duke of Ormond was
Governor. I told Lord Treasurer all this, and he is very angry; but I
pacified him again by telling him they were fools, and knew nothing of
what passed here; but thought all was well enough if they complimented
the Duke of Ormond. Lord Treasurer gave me t’other day a letter of
thanks he received from the bishops of Ireland, signed by seventeen; and
says he will write them an answer. The Dean of Carlisle sat with me
to-day till three; and I went to dine with Lord Treasurer, who dined
abroad, so did the Secretary, and I was left in the suds. ’Twas almost
four, and I got to Sir Matthew Dudley, who had half dined. Thornhill,
who killed Sir Cholmley Dering, {273b} was murdered by two men, on
Turnham Green, last Monday night: as they stabbed him, they bid him
remember Sir Cholmley Dering. They had quarrelled at Hampton Court, and
followed and stabbed him on horseback. We have only a Grub Street paper
of it, but I believe it is true. I went myself through Turnham Green the
same night, which was yesterday.
22. We have had terrible rains these two or three days. I intended to
dine at Lord Treasurer’s, but went to see Lady Abercorn, who is come to
town, and my lord; and I dined with them, and visited Lord Treasurer this
evening. His porter is mending. I sat with my lord about three hours,
and am come home early to be busy. Passing by White’s Chocolate-house,
{274a} my brother Masham called me, and told me his wife was brought to
bed of a boy, and both very well. (Our Society, you must know, are all
brothers.) Dr. Garth told us that Mr. Henley {274b} is dead of an
apoplexy. His brother-in-law, Earl Poulett, is gone down to the Grange,
to take care of his funeral. The Earl of Danby, {274c} the Duke of
Leeds’s eldest grandson, a very hopeful young man of about twenty, is
dead at Utrecht of the smallpox.—I long to know whether you begin to have
any good effect by your waters.—Methinks this letter goes on slowly;
’twill be a fortnight next Saturday since it was begun, and one side not
filled. O fie for shame, Presto! Faith, I’m so tosticated to and from
Windsor, that I know not what to say; but, faith, I’ll go to Windsor
again on Saturday, if they ask me, not else. So lose your money again,
now you are come home; do, sirrah.
Take your magnifying-glass, Madam Dingley.
You shan’t read this, sirrah Stella; don’t read it for your life, for
fear of your dearest eyes.
There’s enough for this side; these Ministers hinder me.
Pretty, dear, little, naughty, saucy MD.
Silly, impudent, loggerhead Presto.
23. Dilly and I dined to-day with Lord Abercorn, and had a fine fat
haunch of venison, that smelt rarely on one side: and after dinner Dilly
won half a crown of me at backgammon at his lodgings, to his great
content. It is a scurvy empty town this melancholy season of the year;
but I think our weather begins to mend. The roads are as deep as in
winter. The grapes are sad things; but the peaches are pretty good, and
there are some figs. I sometimes venture to eat one, but always repent
it. You say nothing of the box sent half a year ago. I wish you would
pay me for Mrs. Walls’s tea. Your mother is in the country, I suppose.
Pray send me the account of MD, Madam Dingley, as it stands since
November, {275a} that is to say, for this year (excluding the twenty
pounds lent Stella for Wexford), for I cannot look in your letters. I
think I ordered that Hawkshaw’s interest should be paid to you. When you
think proper, I will let Parvisol know you have paid that twenty pounds,
or part of it; and so go play with the Dean, and I will answer your
letter to-morrow. Good-night, sirrahs, and love Presto, and be good
girls.
24. I dined to-day with Lord Treasurer, who chid me for not dining with
him yesterday, for it seems I did not understand his invitation; and
their Club of the Ministry dined together, and expected me. Lord Radnor
{275b} and I were walking the Mall this evening; and Mr. Secretary met
us, and took a turn or two, and then stole away, and we both believed it
was to pick up some wench; and to-morrow he will be at the Cabinet with
the Queen: so goes the world! Prior has been out of town these two
months, nobody knows where, and is lately returned. People confidently
affirm he has been in France, and I half believe it. It is said he was
sent by the Ministry, and for some overtures towards a peace. The
Secretary pretends he knows nothing of it. I believe your Parliament
will be dissolved. I have been talking about the quarrel between your
Lords and Commons with Lord Treasurer, and did, at the request of some
people, desire that the Queen’s answer to the Commons’ address might
express a dislike of some principles, etc.; but was answered
dubiously.—And so now to your letter, fair ladies. I know drinking is
bad; I mean writing is bad in drinking the waters; and was angry to see
so much in Stella’s hand. But why Dingley drinks them, I cannot imagine;
but truly she’ll drink waters as well as Stella: why not? I hope you now
find the benefit of them since you are returned; pray let me know
particularly. I am glad you are forced upon exercise, which, I believe,
is as good as the waters for the heart of them. ’Tis now past the middle
of August; so by your reckoning you are in Dublin. It would vex me to
the dogs that letters should miscarry between Dublin and Wexford, after
’scaping the salt seas. I will write no more to that nasty town in haste
again, I warrant you. I have been four Sundays together at Windsor, of
which a fortnight together; but I believe I shall not go to-morrow, for I
will not, unless the Secretary asks me. I know all your news about the
Mayor: it makes no noise here at all, but the quarrel of your Parliament
does; it is so very extraordinary, and the language of the Commons so
very pretty. The _Examiner_ has been down this month, and was very silly
the five or six last papers; but there is a pamphlet come out, in answer
to a letter to the seven Lords who examined Gregg. {276a} The Answer
{276b} is by the real author of the _Examiner_, as I believe; for it is
very well written. We had Trapp’s poem on the Duke of Ormond {276c}
printed here, and the printer sold just eleven of them. ’Tis a dull
piece, not half so good as Stella’s; and she is very modest to compare
herself with such a poetaster. I am heartily sorry for poor Mrs.
Parnell’s {277a} death; she seemed to be an excellent good-natured young
woman, and I believe the poor lad is much afflicted; they appeared to
live perfectly well together. Dilly is not tired at all with England,
but intends to continue here a good while: he is mighty easy to be at
distance from his two sisters-in-law. He finds some sort of scrub
acquaintance; goes now and then in disguise to a play; smokes his pipe;
reads now and then a little trash, and what else the Lord knows. I see
him now and then; for he calls here, and the town being thin, I am less
pestered with company than usual. I have got rid of many of my
solicitors, by doing nothing for them: I have not above eight or nine
left, and I’ll be as kind to them. Did I tell you of a knight who
desired me to speak to Lord Treasurer to give him two thousand pounds, or
five hundred pounds a year, until he could get something better? I
honestly delivered my message to the Treasurer, adding, the knight was a
puppy, whom I would not give a groat to save from the gallows. Cole
Reading’s father-in-law has been two or three times at me, to recommend
his lights to the Ministry, assuring me that a word of mine would, etc.
Did not that dog use to speak ill of me, and profess to hate me? He
knows not where I lodge, for I told him I lived in the country; and I
have ordered Patrick to deny me constantly to him.—Did the Bishop of
London {277b} die in Wexford? poor gentleman! Did he drink the waters?
were you at his burial? was it a great funeral? so far from his friends!
But he was very old: we shall all follow. And yet it was a pity, if God
pleased. He was a good man; not very learned: I believe he died but
poor. Did he leave any charity legacies? who held up his pall? was there
a great sight of clergy? do they design a tomb for him?—Are you sure it
was the Bishop of London? because there is an elderly gentleman here that
we give the same title to: or did you fancy all this in your water, as
others do strange things in their wine? They say these waters trouble
the head, and make people imagine what never came to pass. Do you make
no more of killing a Bishop? are these your Whiggish tricks?—Yes, yes, I
see you are in a fret. O, faith, says you, saucy Presto, I’ll break your
head; what, can’t one report what one hears, without being made a jest
and a laughing-stock? Are these your English tricks, with a murrain?
And Sacheverell will be the next Bishop? He would be glad of an addition
of two hundred pounds a year to what he has, and that is more than they
will give him, for aught I see. He hates the new Ministry mortally, and
they hate him, and pretend to despise him too. They will not allow him
to have been the occasion of the late change; at least some of them will
not: but my Lord Keeper owned it to me the other day. No, Mr. Addison
does not go to Ireland this year: he pretended he would; but he is gone
to Bath with Pastoral Philips, for his eyes.—So now I have run over your
letter; and I think this shall go to-morrow, which will be just a
fortnight from the last, and bring things to the old form again, after
your rambles to Wexford, and mine to Windsor. Are there not many literal
faults in my letters? I never read them over, and I fancy there are.
What do you do then? do you guess my meaning, or are you acquainted with
my manner of mistaking? I lost my handkerchief in the Mall to-night with
Lord Radnor; but I made him walk with me to find it, and find it I did
not. Tisdall {278} (that lodges with me) and I have had no conversation,
nor do we pull off our hats in the streets. There is a cousin of his (I
suppose,) a young parson, that lodges in the house too; a handsome,
genteel fellow. Dick Tighe {279a} and his wife lodged over against us;
and he has been seen, out of our upper windows, beating her two or three
times: they are both gone to Ireland, but not together; and he solemnly
vows never to live with her. Neighbours do not stick to say that she has
a tongue: in short, I am told she is the most urging, provoking devil
that ever was born; and he a hot, whiffling {279b} puppy, very apt to
resent. I’ll keep this bottom till to-morrow: I’m sleepy.
25. I was with the Secretary this morning, who was in a mighty hurry,
and went to Windsor in a chariot with Lord Keeper; so I was not invited,
and am forced to stay at home, but not at all against my will; for I
could have gone, and would not. I dined in the City with one of my
printers, for whom I got the _Gazette_, and am come home early; and have
nothing to say to you more, but finish this letter, and not send it by
the bellman. Days grow short, and the weather grows bad, and the town is
splenetic, and things are so oddly contrived that I cannot be absent;
otherwise I would go for a few days to Oxford, as I promised.—They say it
is certain that Prior has been in France, {279c} nobody doubts it: I had
not time to ask the Secretary, he was in such haste. Well, I will take
my leave of dearest MD for a while; for I must begin my next letter
to-night: consider that, young women; and pray be merry, and good girls,
and love Presto. There is now but one business the Ministry want me for,
and when that is done, I will take my leave of them. I never got a penny
from them, nor expect it. In my opinion, some things stand very
ticklish; I dare say nothing at this distance. Farewell, dear sirrahs,
dearest lives: there is peace and quiet with MD, and nowhere else. They
have not leisure here to think of small things, which may ruin them; and
I have been forward enough. Farewell again, dearest rogues; I am never
happy but when I write or think of MD. I have enough of Courts and
Ministries, and wish I were at Laracor; and if I could with honour come
away this moment, I would. Bernage {280} came to see me to-day; he is
just landed from Portugal, and come to raise recruits; he looks very
well, and seems pleased with his station and manner of life. He never
saw London nor England before; he is ravished with Kent, which was his
first prospect when he landed. Farewell again, etc. etc.