Part 14
8. Morning. Methinks, young women, I have made a great progress in four days, at the bottom of this side already, and no letter yet come from MD (that word interlined is morning). I find I have been writing State affairs to MD. How do they relish it? Why, anything that comes from Presto is welcome; though really, to confess the truth, if they had their choice, not to disguise the matter, they had rather, etc. Now, Presto, I must tell you, you grow silly, says Stella. That is but one body’s opinion, madam. I promised to be with Mr. Secretary St. John this morning; but I am lazy, and will not go, because I had a letter from him yesterday, to desire I would dine there to-day. I shall be chid; but what care I?—Here has been Mrs. South with me, just come from Sir Andrew Fountaine, and going to market. He is still in a fever, and may live or die. His mother and sister are now come up, and in the house; so there is a lurry. {122} I gave Mrs. South half a pistole for a New Year’s gift. So good-morrow, dears both, till anon.—At night. Lord! I have been with Mr. Secretary from dinner till eight; and, though I drank wine and water, I am so hot! Lady Stanley {123a} came to visit Mrs. St. John, {123b} and sent up for me to make up a quarrel with Mrs. St. John, whom I never yet saw; and do you think that devil of a Secretary would let me go, but kept me by main force, though I told him I was in love with his lady, and it was a shame to keep back a lover, etc.? But all would not do; so at last I was forced to break away, but never went up, it was then too late; and here I am, and have a great deal to do to-night, though it be nine o’clock; but one must say something to these naughty MD’s, else there will be no quiet.
9. To-day Ford and I set apart to go into the City to buy books; but we only had a scurvy dinner at an alehouse; and he made me go to the tavern and drink Florence, four and sixpence a flask; damned wine! so I spent my money, which I seldom do, and passed an insipid day, and saw nobody, and it is now ten o’clock, and I have nothing to say, but that ’tis a fortnight to-morrow since I had a letter from MD; but if I have it time enough to answer here, ’tis well enough, otherwise woe betide you, faith. I will go to the toyman’s, here just in Pall Mall, and he sells great hugeous battoons; {123c} yes, faith, and so he does. Does not he, Dingley? Yes, faith. Don’t lose your money this Christmas.
10. I must go this morning to Mr. Secretary St. John. I promised yesterday, but failed, so can’t write any more till night to poor, dear MD.—At night. O, faith, Dingley. I had company in the morning, and could not go where I designed; and I had a basket from Raymond at Bristol, with six bottles of wine and a pound of chocolate, and some tobacco to snuff; and he writ under, the carriage was paid; but he lied, or I am cheated, or there is a mistake; and he has written to me so confusedly about some things, that Lucifer could not understand him. This wine is to be drunk with Harley’s brother {124a} and Sir Robert Raymond, Solicitor-General, in order to recommend the Doctor to your new Lord Chancellor, who left this place on Monday; and Raymond says he is hasting to Chester, to go with him.—I suppose he leaves his wife behind; for when he left London he had no thoughts of stirring till summer. So I suppose he will be with you before this. Ford came and desired I would dine with him, because it was Opera-day; which I did, and sent excuses to Lord Shelburne, who had invited me.
11. I am setting up a new Tatler, little Harrison, {124b} whom I have mentioned to you. Others have put him on it, and I encourage him; and he was with me this morning and evening, showing me his first, which comes out on Saturday. I doubt he will not succeed, for I do not much approve his manner; but the scheme is Mr. Secretary St. John’s and mine, and would have done well enough in good hands. I recommended him to a printer, {124c} whom I sent for, and settled the matter between them this evening. Harrison has just left me, and I am tired with correcting his trash.
12. I was this morning upon some business with Mr. Secretary St. John, and he made me promise to dine with him; which otherwise I would have done with Mr. Harley, whom I have not been with these ten days. I cannot but think they have mighty difficulties upon them; yet I always find them as easy and disengaged as schoolboys on a holiday. Harley has the procuring of five or six millions on his shoulders, and the Whigs will not lend a groat; {125a} which is the only reason of the fall of stocks: for they are like Quakers and fanatics, that will only deal among themselves, while all others deal indifferently with them. Lady Marlborough offers, if they will let her keep her employments, never to come into the Queen’s presence. The Whigs say the Duke of Marlborough will serve no more; but I hope and think otherwise. I would to Heaven I were this minute with MD at Dublin; for I am weary of politics, that give me such melancholy prospects.
13. O, faith, I had an ugly giddy fit last night in my chamber, and I have got a new box of pills to take, and hope I shall have no more this good while. I would not tell you before, because it would vex you, little rogues; but now it is over. I dined to-day with Lord Shelburne; and to-day little Harrison’s new _Tatler_ came out: there is not much in it, but I hope he will mend. You must understand that, upon Steele’s leaving off, there were two or three scrub _Tatlers_ {125b} came out, and one of them holds on still, and to-day it advertised against Harrison’s; and so there must be disputes which are genuine, like the strops for razors. {125c} I am afraid the little toad has not the true vein for it. I will tell you a copy of verses. When Mr. St. John was turned out from being Secretary at War, three years ago, he retired to the country: there he was talking of something he would have written over his summer-house, and a gentleman gave him these verses—
From business and the noisy world retired, Nor vexed by love, nor by ambition fired; Gently I wait the call of Charon’s boat, Still drinking like a fish, and — like a stoat.
He swore to me he could hardly bear the jest; for he pretended to retire like a philosopher, though he was but twenty-eight years old: and I believe the thing was true: for he had been a thorough rake. I think the three grave lines do introduce the last well enough. Od so, but I will go sleep; I sleep early now.
14. O, faith, young women, I want a letter from MD; ’tis now nineteen days since I had the last: and where have I room to answer it, pray? I hope I shall send this away without any answer at all; for I’ll hasten it, and away it goes on Tuesday, by which time this side will be full. I will send it two days sooner on purpose out of spite; and the very next day after, you must know, your letter will come, and then ’tis too late, and I will so laugh, never saw the like! ’Tis spring with us already. I ate asparagus t’other day. Did you ever see such a frostless winter? Sir Andrew Fountaine lies still extremely ill; it costs him ten guineas a day to doctors, surgeons, and apothecaries, and has done so these three weeks. I dined to-day with Mr. Ford; he sometimes chooses to dine at home, and I am content to dine with him; and at night I called at the Coffee-house, where I had not been in a week, and talked coldly a while with Mr. Addison. All our friendship and dearness are off: we are civil acquaintance, talk words of course, of when we shall meet, and that is all. I have not been at any house with him these six weeks: t’other day we were to have dined together at the Comptroller’s; {126a} but I sent my excuses, being engaged to the Secretary of State. Is not it odd? But I think he has used me ill; and I have used him too well, at least his friend Steele.
15. It has cost me three guineas to-day for a periwig. {126b} I am undone! It was made by a Leicester lad, who married Mr. Worrall’s daughter, where my mother lodged; {127a} so I thought it would be cheap, and especially since he lives in the city. Well, London lickpenny: {127b} I find it true. I have given Harrison hints for another _Tatler_ to-morrow. The jackanapes wants a right taste: I doubt he won’t do. I dined with my friend Lewis of the Secretary’s office, and am got home early, because I have much business to do; but before I begin, I must needs say something to MD, faith—No, faith, I lie, it is but nineteen days to-day since my last from MD. I have got Mr. Harley to promise that whatever changes are made in the Council, the Bishop of Clogher shall not be removed, and he has got a memorial accordingly. I will let the Bishop know so much in a post or two. This is a secret; but I know he has enemies, and they shall not be gratified, if they designed any such thing, which perhaps they might; for some changes there will be made. So drink up your claret, and be quiet, and do not lose your money.
16. Morning. Faith, I will send this letter to-day to shame you, if I han’t one from MD before night, that’s certain. Won’t you grumble for want of the third side, pray now? Yes, I warrant you; yes, yes, you shall have the third, you shall so, when you can catch it, some other time; when you be writing girls.—O, faith, I think I won’t stay till night, but seal up this just now, and carry it in my pocket, and whip it into the post-office as I come home at evening. I am going out early this morning.—Patrick’s bills for coals and candles, etc., come sometimes to three shillings a week; I keep very good fires, though the weather be warm. Ireland will never be happy till you get small coal {128a} likewise; nothing so easy, so convenient, so cheap, so pretty, for lighting a fire. My service to Mrs. Stoyte and Walls; has she a boy or a girl? A girl, hum; and died in a week, humm; and was poor Stella forced to stand for godmother?—Let me know how accompts stand, that you may have your money betimes. There’s four months for my lodging, that must be thought on too: and so go dine with Manley, and lose your money, do, extravagant sluttikin, but don’t fret.—It will be just three weeks when I have the next letter, that’s to-morrow. Farewell, dearest beloved MD; and love poor, poor Presto, who has not had one happy day since he left you, as hope saved.—It is the last sally I will ever make, but I hope it will turn to some account. I have done more for these, {128b} and I think they are more honest than the last; however, I will not be disappointed. I would make MD and me easy; and I never desired more.—Farewell, etc. etc.
LETTER XIV.
LONDON, _Jan._ 16, 1710–11.
O FAITH, young women, I have sent my letter N. 13 without one crumb of an answer to any of MD’s, there’s for you now; and yet Presto ben’t angry, faith, not a bit, only he will begin to be in pain next Irish post, except he sees MD’s little handwriting in the glass-frame at the bar of St. James’s Coffee-house, where Presto would never go but for that purpose. Presto is at home, God help him, every night from six till bed-time, and has as little enjoyment or pleasure in life at present as anybody in the world, although in full favour with all the Ministry. As hope saved, nothing gives Presto any sort of dream of happiness but a letter now and then from his own dearest MD. I love the expectation of it; and when it does not come, I comfort myself that I have it yet to be happy with. Yes, faith, and when I write to MD, I am happy too; it is just as if methinks you were here, and I prating to you, and telling you where I have been: “Well,” says you, “Presto, come, where have you been to-day? come, let’s hear now.” And so then I answer: “Ford and I were visiting Mr. Lewis and Mr. Prior; and Prior has given me a fine Plautus; and then Ford would have had me dine at his lodgings, and so I would not; and so I dined with him at an eating-house, which I have not done five times since I came here; and so I came home, after visiting Sir Andrew Fountaine’s mother and sister, and Sir Andrew Fountaine is mending, though slowly.”
17. I was making, this morning, some general visits, and at twelve I called at the Coffee-house for a letter from MD; so the man said he had given it to Patrick. Then I went to the Court of Requests and Treasury, to find Mr. Harley, and, after some time spent in mutual reproaches, I promised to dine with him. I stayed there till seven, then called at Sterne’s and Leigh’s to talk about your box, and to have it sent by Smyth. Sterne says he has been making inquiries, and will set things right as soon as possible. I suppose it lies at Chester, at least I hope so, and only wants a lift over to you. Here has little Harrison been to complain that the printer I recommended to him for his _Tatler_ is a coxcomb; and yet to see how things will happen; for this very printer is my cousin, his name is Dryden Leach; {129a} did you never hear of Dryden Leach, he that prints the _Postman_? He acted Oroonoko; {129b} he’s in love with Miss Cross. {129c}—Well, so I came home to read my letter from Stella, but the dog Patrick was abroad; at last he came, and I got my letter. I found another hand had superscribed it; when I opened it, I found it written all in French, and subscribed Bernage: {130a} faith, I was ready to fling it at Patrick’s head. Bernage tells me he had been to desire your recommendation to me, to make him a captain; and your cautious answer, that he had as much power with me as you, was a notable one; if you were here, I would present you to the Ministry as a person of ability. Bernage should let me know where to write to him; this is the second letter I have had without any direction; however, I beg I may not have a third, but that you will ask him, and send me how I shall direct to him. In the meantime, tell him that if regiments are to be raised here, as he says, I will speak to George Granville, {130b} Secretary at War, to make him a captain; and use what other interest I conveniently can. I think that is enough, and so tell him, and do not trouble me with his letters, when I expect them from MD; do you hear, young women? write to Presto.
18. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary St. John, and we were to dine at Mr. Harley’s alone, about some business of importance; but there were two or three gentlemen there. Mr. Secretary and I went together from his office to Mr. Harley’s, and thought to have been very wise; but the deuce a bit, the company stayed, and more came, and Harley went away at seven, and the Secretary and I stayed with the rest of the company till eleven; I would then have had him come away; but he was in for’t; and though he swore he would come away at that flask, there I left him. I wonder at the civility of these people; when he saw I would drink no more, he would always pass the bottle by me, and yet I could not keep the toad from drinking himself, nor he would not let me go neither, nor Masham, {131a} who was with us. When I got home, I found a parcel directed to me; and opening it, I found a pamphlet written entirely against myself, not by name, but against something I writ: {131b} it is pretty civil, and affects to be so, and I think I will take no notice of it; ’tis against something written very lately; and indeed I know not what to say, nor do I care. And so you are a saucy rogue for losing your money to-day at Stoyte’s; to let that bungler beat you, fie, Stella, an’t you ashamed? Well, I forgive you this once, never do so again; no, noooo. Kiss and be friends, sirrah.—Come, let me go sleep, I go earlier to bed than formerly; and have not been out so late these two months; but the Secretary was in a drinking humour. So good-night, myownlittledearsaucyinsolentrogues.
19. Then you read that long word in the last line; no, {131c} faith, han’t you. Well, when will this letter come from our MD? to-morrow or next day without fail; yes, faith, and so it is coming. This was an insipid snowy day, no walking day, and I dined gravely with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and came home, and am now got to bed a little after ten; I remember old Culpepper’s maxim:
“Would you have a settled head, You must early go to bed: I tell you, and I tell’t again, You must be in bed at ten.”
20. And so I went to-day with my new wig, o hoao, to visit Lady Worsley, {132} whom I had not seen before, although she was near a month in town. Then I walked in the Park to find Mr. Ford, whom I had promised to meet; and coming down the Mall, who should come towards me but Patrick, and gives me five letters out of his pocket. I read the superscription of the first, “Pshoh,” said I; of the second, “Pshoh” again; of the third, “Pshah, pshah, pshah”; of the fourth, “A gad, a gad, a gad, I’m in a rage”; of the fifth and last, “O hoooa; ay marry this is something, this is our MD”; so truly we opened it, I think immediately, and it began the most impudently in the world, thus: “Dear Presto, We are even thus far.” “Now we are even,” quoth Stephen, when he gave his wife six blows for one. I received your ninth four days after I had sent my thirteenth. But I’ll reckon with you anon about that, young women. Why did not you recant at the end of your letter, when you got my eleventh, tell me that, huzzies base? were we even then, were we, sirrah? But I won’t answer your letter now, I’ll keep it for another time. We had a great deal of snow to-day, and ’tis terrible cold. I dined with Ford, because it was his Opera-day and snowed, so I did not care to stir farther. I will send to-morrow to Smyth.
21. Morning. It has snowed terribly all night, and is vengeance cold. I am not yet up, but cannot write long; my hands will freeze. “Is there a good fire, Patrick?” “Yes, sir.” “Then I will rise; come, take away the candle.” You must know I write on the dark side of my bed-chamber, and am forced to have a candle till I rise, for the bed stands between me and the window, and I keep the curtains shut this cold weather. So pray let me rise; and Patrick, here, take away the candle.—At night. We are now here in high frost and snow, the largest fire can hardly keep us warm. It is very ugly walking; a baker’s boy broke his thigh yesterday. I walk slow, make short steps, and never tread on my heel. ’Tis a good proverb the Devonshire people have:
“Walk fast in snow, In frost walk slow; And still as you go, Tread on your toe. When frost and snow are both together, Sit by the fire, and spare shoe-leather.”
I dined to-day with Dr. Cockburn, {133a} but will not do so again in haste, he has generally such a parcel of Scots with him.
22. Morning. Starving, starving, uth, uth, uth, uth, uth.—Don’t you remember I used to come into your chamber, and turn Stella out of her chair, and rake up the fire in a cold morning, and cry Uth, uth, uth? etc. O, faith, I must rise, my hand is so cold I can write no more. So good-morrow, sirrahs.—At night. I went this morning to Lady Giffard’s house, and saw your mother, and made her give me a pint bottle of palsy-water, {133b} which I brought home in my pocket; and sealed and tied up in a paper, and sent it to Mr. Smyth, who goes to-morrow for Ireland, and sent a letter to him to desire his care of it, and that he would inquire at Chester about the box. He was not within: so the bottle and letter were left for him at his lodgings, with strict orders to give them to him; and I will send Patrick in a day or two, to know whether it was given, etc. Dr. Stratford {133c} and I dined to-day with Mr. Stratford {133d} in the City, by appointment; but I chose to walk there, for exercise in the frost. But the weather had given a little, as you women call it, so it was something slobbery. I did not get home till nine.
And now I’m in bed, To break your head.
23. Morning. They tell me it freezes again, but it is not so cold as yesterday: so now I will answer a bit of your letter.—At night. O, faith, I was just going to answer some of our MD’s letter this morning, when a printer came in about some business, and stayed an hour; so I rose, and then came in Ben Tooke, and then I shaved and scribbled; and it was such a terrible day, I could not stir out till one, and then I called at Mrs. Barton’s, and we went to Lady Worsley’s, where we were to dine by appointment. The Earl of Berkeley {134a} is going to be married to Lady Louisa Lennox, the Duke of Richmond’s daughter. I writ this night to Dean Sterne, and bid him tell you all about the bottle of palsy-water by Smyth; and to-morrow morning I will say something to your letter.