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: {323a} 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, {323b} 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. {323c} 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 {324a}
showed me to-day a ballad {324b} 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. {324c} 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, {325a} 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, {325b} 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, {326a} 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; {326b} 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:
{329a} 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 {329b} 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, {330a} whoever he was, laid it down on
purpose to confound guessers; and the last six were written by a woman.
{330b} 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.
{330c} 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_: {331}
you are so dull you could never have found it out. Farewell, etc. etc.