28. I had a petition sent me t’other day from one Stephen Gernon, setting forth that he formerly lived with Harry Tenison,[6] who gave him an employment of gauger, and that he was turned out after Harry’s death, and came for England, and is now starving, or, as he expresses it, THAT THE STAFF OF LIFE HAS BEEN
OF LATE A STRANGER TO HIS APPETITE. Today the poor fellow called, and I knew him very well, a young slender fellow with freckles in his face: you must remember him; he waited at table as a better sort of servant. I gave him a crown, and promised to do what I could to help him to a service, which I did for Harry Tenison’s memory. It was bloody hot walking to−day, and I was so lazy I dined where my new gown was, at Mrs. Vanhomrigh’s, and came back like a fool, and the Dean of Carlisle has sat with me till eleven. Lord Oxford has not the staff yet.
29. I was this morning in town by ten, though it was shaving−day, and went to the Secretary about some affairs, then visited the Duke and Duchess of Ormond; but the latter was dressing to go out, and I could not see her. My Lord Oxford had the staff given him this morning; so now I must call him Lord Oxford no more, but Lord Treasurer: I hope he will stick there: this is twice he has changed his name this week; and I heard to−day in the City (where I dined) that he will very soon have the Garter.Pr’ythee, do not you observe how strangely I have changed my company and manner of living? I never go to a coffee−house; you hear no more of Addison, Steele, Henley, Lady Lucy, Mrs. Finch,[7] Lord Somers, Lord Halifax, etc. I think I have altered for the better. Did I tell you the Archbishop of Dublin has writ me a long letter of a squabble in your town about choosing a Mayor, and that he apprehended some censure for the share he had in it?[8] I have not heard anything of it here; but I shall not be always able to defend him. We hear your Bishop Hickman is dead;[9]
but nobody here will do anything for me in Ireland; so they may die as fast or slow as they please.Well, you are constant to your deans, and your Stoyte, and your Walls. Walls will have her tea soon; Parson Richardson is either going or gone to Ireland, and has it with him. I hear Mr. Lewis has two letters for me: I could not call for them to−day, but will to−morrow; and perhaps one of them may be from our little MD, who knows, man?
who can tell? Many a more unlikely thing has happened.Pshaw, I write so plaguy little, I can hardly see it LETTER 24.
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myself. WRITE BIGGER, SIRRAH[10] Presto. No, but I won’t. Oh, you are a saucy rogue, Mr. Presto, you are so impudent. Come, dear rogues, let Presto go to sleep; I have been with the Dean, and ’tis near twelve.
30. I am so hot and lazy after my morning’s walk, that I loitered at Mrs. Vanhomrigh’s, where my best gown and periwig are, and out of mere listlessness dine there very often; so I did to−day; but I got little MD’s letter, N.15 (you see, sirrahs, I remember to tell the number), from Mr. Lewis, and I read it in a closet they lend me at Mrs. Van’s; and I find Stella is a saucy rogue and a great writer, and can write finely still when her hand is in, and her pen good. When I came here to−night, I had a mighty mind to go swim after I was cool, for my lodging is just by the river; and I went down with only my nightgown and slippers on at eleven, but came up again; however, one of these nights I will venture.
31. I was so hot this morning with my walk, that I resolve to do so no more during this violent burning weather. It is comical that now we happen to have such heat to ripen the fruit there has been the greatest blast that was ever known, and almost all the fruit is despaired of. I dined with Lord Shelburne: Lady Kerry and Mrs. Pratt are going to Ireland. I went this evening to Lord Treasurer, and sat about two hours with him in mixed company; he left us, and went to Court, and carried two staves with him, so I suppose we shall have a new Lord Steward or Comptroller to−morrow; I smoked that State secret out by that accident. I will not answer your letter yet, sirrahs; no I won’t, madam.
June 1. I wish you a merry month of June. I dined again with the Vans and Sir Andrew Fountaine. I always give them a flask of my Florence, which now begins to spoil, but it is near an end. I went this afternoon to Mrs. Vedeau’s, and brought away Madam Dingley’s parchment and letter of attorney. Mrs. Vedeau tells me she has sent the bill a fortnight ago. I will give the parchment to Ben Tooke, and you shall send him a letter of attorney at your leisure, enclosed to Mr. Presto. Yes, I now think your mackerel is full as good as ours, which I did not think formerly. I was bit about two staves, for there is no new officer made to−day. This letter will find you still in Dublin, I suppose, or at Donnybrook, or losing your money at Walls’ (how does she do?).
2. I missed this day by a blunder and dining in the City.[11]
3. No boats on Sunday, never: so I was forced to walk, and so hot by the time I got to Ford’s lodging that I was quite spent; I think the weather is mad. I could not go to church. I dined with the Secretary as usual, and old Colonel Graham[12] that lived at Bagshot Heath, and they said it was Colonel Graham’s house. Pshaw, I remember it very well, when I used to go for a walk to London from Moor Park. What, I warrant you do not remember the Golden Farmer[13] neither, figgarkick soley?[14]
4. When must we answer this letter, this N.15 of our little MD? Heat and laziness, and Sir Andrew Fountaine, made me dine to−day again at Mrs. Van’s; and, in short, this weather is unsupportable: how is it with you?
Lady Betty Butler and Lady Ashburnham sat with me two or three hours this evening in my closet at Mrs.
Van’s. They are very good girls; and if Lady Betty went to Ireland, you should let her be acquainted with you.
How does Dingley do this hot weather? Stella, I think, never complains of it; she loves hot weather. There has not been a drop of rain since Friday se’ennight. Yes, you do love hot weather, naughty Stella, you do so; and Presto can’t abide it. Be a good girl then, and I will love you; and love one another, and don’t be quarrelling girls.
5. I dined in the City to−day, and went from hence early to town, and visited the Duke of Ormond and Mr.
Secretary. They say my Lord Treasurer has a dead warrant in his pocket; they mean a list of those who are to be turned out of employment; and we every day now expect those changes. I passed by the Treasury to−day, and saw vast crowds waiting to give Lord Treasurer petitions as he passes by. He is now at the top of power and favour: he keeps no levees yet. I am cruel thirsty this hot weather.I am just this minute going to swim. I take Patrick down with me, to hold my nightgown, shirt, and slippers, and borrow a napkin of my landlady for a cap. So farewell till I come up; but there is no danger, don’t be frighted.I have been swimming this LETTER 24.
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half−hour and more; and when I was coming out I dived, to make my head and all through wet, like a cold bath; but, as I dived, the napkin fell off and is lost, and I have that to pay for. O, faith, the great stones were so sharp, I could hardly set my feet on them as I came out. It was pure and warm. I got to bed, and will now go sleep.
6. Morning. This letter shall go to−morrow; so I will answer yours when I come home to−night. I feel no hurt from last night’s swimming. I lie with nothing but the sheet over me, and my feet quite bare. I must rise and go to town before the tide is against me. Morrow, sirrahs; dear sirrahs, morrow. At night. I never felt so hot a day as this since I was born. I dined with Lady Betty Germaine, and there was the young Earl of Berkeley[15] and his fine lady. I never saw her before, nor think her near so handsome as she passes for.After dinner, Mr. Bertue[16] would not let me put ice in my wine, but said my Lord Dorchester[17] got the bloody flux with it, and that it was the worst thing in the world. Thus are we plagued, thus are we plagued; yet I have done it five or six times this summer, and was but the drier and the hotter for it. Nothing makes me so excessively peevish as hot weather. Lady Berkeley after dinner clapped my hat on another lady’s head, and she in roguery put it upon the rails. I minded them not; but in two minutes they called me to the window, and Lady Carteret[18] showed me my hat out of her window five doors off, where I was forced to walk to it, and pay her and old Lady Weymouth[19] a visit, with some more beldames. Then I went and drank coffee, and made one or two puns, with Lord Pembroke,[20] and designed to go to Lord Treasurer; but it was too late, and beside I was half broiled, and broiled without butter; for I never sweat after dinner, if I drink any wine. Then I sat an hour with Lady Betty Butler at tea, and everything made me hotter and drier.