25. Morning. I wish you a merry New Year; this is the first day of the year, you know, with us, and ’tis Lady−day. I must rise and go to my Lord Keeper: it is not shaving−day to−day, so I shall be early. I am to dine with Mr. Secretary St. John. Good−morrow, my mistresses both, good−morrow. Stella will be peeping out of her room at Mrs. De Caudres'[2] down upon the folks as they come from church; and there comes Mrs.
Proby,[3] and that is my Lady Southwell,[4] and there is Lady Betty Rochfort.[5] I long to hear how you are settled in your new lodgings. I wish I were rid of my old ones, and that Mrs. Brent could contrive to put up my books in boxes, and lodge them in some safe place, and you keep my papers of importance. But I must rise, I tell you.At night. So I visited and dined as I told you, and what of that? We have let Guiscard be buried at last, after showing him pickled in a trough this fortnight for twopence apiece: and the fellow that showed would point to his body, and, “See, gentlemen, this is the wound that was given him by his Grace the LETTER 19.
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Duke of Ormond; and this is the wound,” etc., and then the show was over, and another set of rabble came in.
‘Tis hard our laws would not suffer us to hang his body in chains, because he was not tried; and in the eye of our law every man is innocent till then.Mr. Harley is still very weak, and never out of bed.
26. This was a most delicious day; and my shin being past danger, I walked like lightning above two hours in the Park. We have generally one fair day, and then a great deal of rain for three or four days together. All things are at a stop in Parliament for want of Mr. Harley; they cannot stir an inch without him in their most material affairs: and we fear, by the caprice of Radcliffe, who will admit none but his own surgeon,[6] he has not been well looked after. I dined at an alehouse with Mr. Lewis, but had his wine. Don’t you begin to see the flowers and blossoms of the field? How busy should I be now at Laracor! No news of your box? I hope you have it, and are this minute drinking the chocolate, and that the smell of the Brazil tobacco has not affected it. I would be glad to know whether you like it, because I would send you more by people that are now every day thinking of going to Ireland; therefore pray tell me, and tell me soon: and I will have the strong box.
27. A rainy, wretched, scurvy day from morning till night: and my neighbour Vanhomrigh invited me to dine with them and this evening I passed at Mr. Prior’s with Dr. Freind; and ’tis now past twelve, so I must go sleep.
28. Morning. O, faith, you’re an impudent saucy couple of sluttikins for presuming to write so soon, said I to myself this morning; who knows but there may be a letter from MD at the Coffee−house? Well, you must know, and so, I just now sent Patrick, and he brought me three letters, but not one from MD, no indeed, for I read all the superscriptions; and not one from MD. One I opened, it was from the Archbishop;[7] t’other I opened, it was from Staunton;[8] the third I took, and looked at the hand. Whose hand is this? says I; yes, says I, whose hand is this? Then there was wax between the folds; then I began to suspect; then I peeped; faith, it was Walls’s hand after all: then I opened it in a rage, and then it was little MD’s hand, dear, little, pretty, charming MD’s sweet hand again. O Lord, an’t here a clutter and a stir, and a bustle? never saw the like. Faith, I believe yours lay some days at the post−office, and that it came before my eighteenth went, but that I did not expect it, and I hardly ever go there. Well, and so you think I’ll answer this letter now; no, faith, and so I won’t. I’ll make you wait, young women; but I’ll inquire immediately about poor Dingley’s exchequer trangum.[9] What, is that Vedel again a soldier? was he broke? I’ll put it in Ben Tooke’s hand. I hope Vedel could not sell it.At night. Vedel, Vedel, poh, pox, I think it is Vedeau;[10] ay, Vedeau, now I have it; let me see, do you name him in yours? Yes, Mr. John Vedeau is the brother; but where does this brother live? I’ll inquire. This was a fast−day for the public; so I dined late with Sir Matthew Dudley, whom I have not been with a great while. He is one of those that must lose his employment whenever the great shake comes; and I can’t contribute to keep him in, though I have dropped words in his favour to the Ministry; but he is too violent a Whig, and friend to the Lord Treasurer,[11] to stay in. ‘Tis odd to think how long they let those people keep their places; but the reason is, they have not enough to satisfy all expecters, and so they keep them all in hopes, that they may be good boys in the meantime; and thus the old ones hold in still. The Comptroller[12] told me that there are eight people expect his staff. I walked after dinner to−day round the Park. What, do I write politics to little young women? Hold your tongue, and go to your Dean’s.
29. Morning. If this be a fine day, I will walk into the City, and see Charles Barnard’s library. What care I for your letter, saucy N.12? I will say nothing to it yet: faith, I believe this will be full before its time, and then go it must. I will always write once a fortnight; and if it goes sooner by filling sooner, why, then there is so much clear gain. Morrow, morrow, rogues and lasses both, I can’t lie scribbling here in bed for your play; I must rise, and so morrow again.At night. Your friend Montgomery and his sister are here, as I am told by Patrick. I have seen him often, but take no notice of him: he is grown very ugly and pimpled. They tell me he is a gamester, and wins money.How could I help it, pray? Patrick snuffed the candle too short, and the grease ran down upon the paper.[13] It an’t my fault, ’tis Patrick’s fault; pray now don’t blame Presto. I walked today in the City, and dined at a private house, and went to see the auction of poor Charles Barnard’s LETTER 19.
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books; they were in the middle of the physic books, so I bought none; and they are so dear, I believe I shall buy none, and there is an end; and go to Stoyte’s, and I’ll go sleep.
30. Morning. This is Good Friday, you must know; and I must rise and go to Mr. Secretary about some business, and Mrs. Vanhomrigh desires me to breakfast with her, because she is to intercede for Patrick, who is so often drunk and quarrelsome in the house, that I was resolved to send him over; but he knows all the places where I send, and is so used to my ways, that it would be inconvenient to me; but when I come to Ireland, I will discharge him.[14] Sir Thomas Mansel,[15] one of the Lords of the Treasury, setting me down at my door to−day, saw Patrick, and swore he was a Teague−lander.[16] I am so used to his face, I never observed it, but thought him a pretty fellow. Sir Andrew Fountaine and I supped this fast−day with Mrs.
Vanhomrigh. We were afraid Mr. Harley’s wound would turn to a fistula; but we think the danger is now past.
He rises every day, and walks about his room, and we hope he will be out in a fortnight. Prior showed me a handsome paper of verses he has writ on Mr. Harley’s accident:[17] they are not out; I will send them to you, if he will give me a copy.
31. Morning. What shall we do to make April fools this year, now it happens on Sunday? Patrick brings word that Mr. Harley still mends, and is up every day. I design to see him in a few days: and he brings me word too that he has found out Vedeau’s brother’s shop: I shall call there in a day or two. It seems the wife lodges next door to the brother. I doubt the scoundrel was broke, and got a commission, or perhaps is a volunteer gentleman, and expects to get one by his valour. Morrow, sirrahs, let me rise.At night. I dined to−day with Sir Thomas Mansel. We were walking in the Park, and Mr. Lewis came to us. Mansel asked where we dined.