THE JOURNAL TO STELLA
by JONATHAN SWIFT.
With preface, introduction and notes by George A. Aitken.
[Numbers thus [5] refer to the Notes at the end, which are arranged by
"Introduction" or by "Letter 'number'".]
PREFACE
The history of the publication of the Journal to Stella is somewhat curious.
On Swift's death twenty-five of the letters, forming the closing portion of
the series, fell into the hands of Dr. Lyon, a clergyman who had been in
charge of Swift for some years. The letters passed to a man named Wilkes, who
sold them for publication. They accordingly appeared in 1766 in the tenth
volume of Dr. Hawkesworth's quarto edition of Swift's works; but the editor
made many changes in the text, including a suppression of most of the "little
language." The publishers, however, fortunately for us, were public-spirited
enough to give the manuscripts (with one exception) to the British Museum,
where, after many years, they were examined by John Forster, who printed in
his unfinished "Life of Swift" numerous passages from the originals, showing
the manner in which the text had been tampered with by Hawkesworth. Swift
himself, too, in his later years, obliterated many words and sentences in the
letters, and Forster was able to restore not a few of these omissions. His
zeal, however, sometimes led him to make guesses at words which are quite
undecipherable. Besides Forster's work, I have had the benefit of the careful
collation made by Mr. Ryland for his edition of 1897. Where these authorities
differ I have usually found myself in agreement with Mr. Ryland, but I have
felt justified in accepting some of Forster's readings which were rejected by
him as uncertain; and the examination of the manuscripts has enabled me to
make some additions and corrections of my own. Swift's writing is extremely
small, and abounds in abbreviations. The difficulty of arriving at the true
reading is therefore considerable, apart from the erasures.
The remainder of the Journal, consisting of the first forty letters, was
published in 1768 by Deane Swift, Dr. Swift's second cousin. These letters
had been given to Mrs. Whiteway in 1788, and by her to her son-in-law, Deane
Swift. The originals have been lost, with the exception of the first, which,
by some accident, is in the British Museum; but it is evident that Deane Swift
took even greater liberties with the text than Hawkesworth. He substituted
for "Ppt" the word "Stella," a name which Swift seems not to have used until
some years later; he adopted the name "Presto" for Swift, and in other ways
tried to give a greater literary finish to the letters. The whole of the
correspondence was first brought together, under the title of the "Journal to
Stella", in Sheridan's edition of 1784.
Previous editions of the Journal have been but slightly annotated. Swift's
letters abound with allusions to people of all classes with whom he came in
contact in London, and to others known to Esther Johnson in Ireland; and a
large proportion of these persons have been passed over in discreet silence by
Sir Walter Scott and others. The task of the annotator has, of course, been
made easier of late years by the publication of contemporary journals and
letters, and of useful works of reference dealing with Parliament, the Army,
the Church, the Civil Service, and the like, besides the invaluable Dictionary
of National Biography. I have also been assisted by a collection of MS. notes
kindly placed at my disposal by Mr. Thomas Seccombe. I have aimed at brevity
and relevance, but it is hoped that the reader will find all the information
that is necessary. Here and there a name has baffled research, but I have
been able to give definite particulars of a very large number of people--
noblemen and ladies in society in London or Dublin, Members of Parliament,
doctors, clergymen, Government officials, and others who have hitherto been
but names to the reader of the Journal. I have corrected a good many errors
in the older notes, but in dealing with so large a number of persons, some of
whom it is difficult to identify, I cannot hope that I myself have escaped
pitfalls.
G. A. A.
INTRODUCTION.
When Swift began to write the letters known as the Journal to Stella, he was
forty-two years of age, and Esther Johnson twenty-nine. Perhaps the most
useful introduction to the correspondence will be a brief setting forth of
what is known of their friendship from Stella's childhood, the more specially
as the question has been obscured by many assertions and theories resting on a
very slender basis of fact.
Jonathan Swift, born in 1667 after his father's death, was educated by his
uncle Godwin, and after a not very successful career at Trinity College,
Dublin, went to stay with his mother, Abigail Erick, at Leicester. Mrs. Swift
feared that her son would fall in love with a girl named Betty Jones, but, as
Swift told a friend, he had had experience enough "not to think of marriage
till I settle my fortune in the world, which I am sure will not be in some
years; and even then, I am so hard to please that I suppose I shall put it off
to the other world." Soon afterwards an opening for Swift presented itself.
Sir William Temple, now living in retirement at Moor Park, near Farnham, had
been, like his father, Master of the Irish Rolls, and had thus become
acquainted with Swift's uncle Godwin. Moreover, Lady Temple was related to
Mrs. Swift, as Lord Orrery tells us. Thanks to these facts, the application
to Sir William Temple was successful, and Swift went to live at Moor Park
before the end of 1689. There he read to Temple, wrote for him, and kept his
accounts, and growing into confidence with his employer, "was often trusted
with matters of great importance." The story--afterwards improved upon by
Lord Macaulay--that Swift received only 20 pounds and his board, and was not
allowed to sit at table with his master, is wholly untrustworthy. Within
three years of their first intercourse, Temple had introduced his secretary to
William the Third, and sent him to London to urge the King to consent to a
bill for triennial Parliaments.
When Swift took up his residence at Moor Park he found there a little girl of
eight, daughter of a merchant named Edward Johnson, who had died young. Swift
says that Esther Johnson was born on March 18, 1681; in the parish register of
Richmond,[1] which shows that she was baptized on March 20, 1680-81, her name
is given as Hester; but she signed her will "Esther," the name by which she
was always known. Swift says, "Her father was a younger brother of a good
family in Nottinghamshire, her mother of a lower degree; and indeed she had
little to boast in her birth." Mrs. Johnson had two children, Esther and Ann,
and lived at Moor Park as companion to Lady Giffard, Temple's widowed sister.
Another member of the household, afterwards to be Esther's constant companion,
was Rebecca Dingley, a relative of the Temple family.[2] She was a year or
two older than Swift.
The lonely young man of twenty-two was both playfellow and teacher of the
delicate child of eight. How he taught her to write has been charmingly
brought before us in the painting exhibited by Miss Dicksee at the Royal
Academy a few years ago; he advised her what books to read, and instructed
her, as he says, "in the principles of honour and virtue, from which she never
swerved in any one action or moment of her life."
By 1694 Swift had grown tired of his position, and finding that Temple, who
valued his services, was slow in finding him preferment, he left Moor Park in
order to carry out his resolve to go into the Church. He was ordained, and
obtained the prebend of Kilroot, near Belfast, where he carried on a
flirtation with a Miss Waring, whom he called Varina. But in May 1696 Temple
made proposals which induced Swift to return to Moor Park, where he was
employed in preparing Temple's memoirs and correspondence for publication, and
in supporting the side taken by Temple in the Letters of Phalaris controversy
by writing The Battle of the Books, which was, however, not published until
1704. On his return to Temple's house, Swift found his old playmate grown
from a sickly child into a girl of fifteen, in perfect health. She came, he
says, to be "looked upon as one of the most beautiful, graceful, and agreeable
young women in London, only a little too fat. Her hair was blacker than a
raven, and every feature of her face in perfection."
On his death in January 1699, Temple left a will,[3] dated 1694, directing the
payment of 20 pounds each, with half a year's wages, to Bridget Johnson "and
all my other servants"; and leaving a lease of some land in Monistown, County
Wicklow, to Esther Johnson, "servant to my sister Giffard." By a codicil of
February 1698, Temple left 100 pounds to "Mr. Jonathan Swift, now living with
me." It may be added that by her will of 1722, proved in the following year,
Lady Giffard gave 20 pounds to Mrs. Moss--Mrs. Bridget Johnson, who had
married Richard Mose or Moss, Lady Giffard's steward. The will proceeds: "To
Mrs. Hester (sic) Johnson I give 10 pounds, with the 100 pounds I put into the
Exchequer for her life and my own, and declare the 100 pounds to be hers which
I am told is there in my name upon the survivorship, and for which she has
constantly sent over her certificate and received the interest. I give her
besides my two little silver candlesticks."
Temple left in Swift's hands the task of publishing his posthumous works, a
duty which afterwards led to a quarrel with Lady Giffard and other members of
the family. Many years later Swift told Lord Palmerston that he stopped at
Moor Park solely for the benefit of Temple's conversation and advice, and the
opportunity of pursuing his studies. At Temple's death he was "as far to seek
as ever." In the summer of 1699, however, he was offered and accepted the
post of secretary and chaplain to the Earl of Berkeley, one of the Lords
Justices, but when he reached Ireland he found that the secretaryship had been
given to another. He soon, however, obtained the living of Laracor, Agher,
and Rathbeggan, and the prebend of Dunlavin in St. Patrick's Cathedral,
Dublin. The total value of these preferments was about 230 pounds a year, an
income which Miss Waring seems to have thought enough to justify him in
marrying. Swift's reply to the lady whom he had "singled out at first from
the rest of women" could only have been written with the intention of breaking
off the connection, and accordingly we hear no more of poor Varina.
At Laracor, a mile or two from Trim, and twenty miles from Dublin, Swift
ministered to a congregation of about fifteen persons, and had abundant
leisure for cultivating his garden, making a canal (after the Dutch fashion of
Moor Park), planting willows, and rebuilding the vicarage. As chaplain to
Lord Berkeley, he spent much of his time in Dublin. He was on intimate terms
with Lady Berkeley and her daughters, one of whom is best known by her married
name of Lady Betty Germaine; and through them he had access to the fashionable
society of Dublin. When Lord Berkeley returned to England in April 1701,
Swift, after taking his Doctor's degree at Dublin, went with him, and soon
afterwards published, anonymously, a political pamphlet, A Discourse on the
Contests and Dissentions in Athens and Rome. When he returned to Ireland in
September he was accompanied by Stella--to give Esther Johnson the name by
which she is best known--and her friend Mrs. Dingley. Stella's fortune was
about 1500 pounds, and the property Temple had left her was in County Wicklow.
Swift, very much for his "own satisfaction, who had few friends or
acquaintance in Ireland," persuaded Stella--now twenty years old--that living
was cheaper there than in England, and that a better return was obtainable on
money. The ladies took his advice, and made Ireland their home. At first
they felt themselves strangers in Dublin; "the adventure looked so like a
frolic," Swift says, "the censure held for some time as if there were a secret
history in such a removal: which however soon blew off by her excellent
conduct." Swift took every step that was possible to avoid scandal. When he
was away, the ladies occupied his rooms; when he returned, they went into
their own lodgings. When he was absent, they often stopped at the vicarage at
Laracor, but if he were there, they moved to Trim, where they visited the
vicar, Dr. Raymond, or lived in lodgings in the town or neighbourhood. Swift
was never with Stella except in the presence of a third person, and in 1726 he
said that he had not seen her in a morning "these dozen years, except once or
twice in a journey."
During a visit to England in the winter of 1703-4 we find Swift in
correspondence with the Rev. William Tisdall, a Dublin incumbent whom he had
formerly known at Belfast. Tisdall was on friendly terms with Stella and Mrs.
Dingley, and Swift sent messages to them through him. "Pray put them upon
reading," he wrote, "and be always teaching something to Mrs. Johnson, because
she is good at comprehending, remembering and retaining." But the
correspondence soon took a different turn. Tisdall paid his addresses to
Stella, and charged Swift with opposing his suit. Tisdall's letters are
missing, but Swift's reply of April 20, 1704, puts things sufficiently
clearly. "My conjecture is," he says, "that you think I obstructed your
inclinations to please my own, and that my intentions were the same with
yours. In answer to all which I will, upon my conscience and honour, tell you
the naked truth. First, I think I have said to you before that, if my
fortunes and humour served me to think of that state, I should certainly,
among all persons upon earth, make your choice; because I never saw that
person whose conversation I entirely valued but hers; this was the utmost I
ever gave way to. And secondly, I must assure you sincerely that this regard
of mine never once entered into my head to be an impediment to you." He had
thought Tisdall not rich enough to marry; "but the objection of your fortune
being removed, I declare I have no other; nor shall any consideration of my
own misfortune, in losing so good a friend and companion as her, prevail on
me, against her interest and settlement in the world, since it is held so
necessary and convenient a thing for ladies to marry, and that time takes off
from the lustre of virgins in all other eyes but mine. I appeal to my letters
to herself whether I was your friend or not in the whole concern, though the
part I designed to act in it was purely passive." He had even thought "it
could not be decently broken," without disadvantage to the lady's credit,
since he supposed it was known to the town; and he had always spoken of her in
a manner far from discouraging. Though he knew many ladies of rank, he had
"nowhere met with an humour, a wit, or conversation so agreeable, a better
portion of good sense, or a truer judgment of men or things." He envied
Tisdall his prudence and temper, and love of peace and settlement, "the
reverse of which has been the great uneasiness of my life, and is likely to
continue so."
This letter has been quoted at some length because of its great importance.
It is obviously capable of various interpretations, and some, like Dr.
Johnson, have concluded that Swift was resolved to keep Stella in his power,
and therefore prevented an advantageous match by making unreasonable demands.
I cannot see any ground for this interpretation, though it is probable that
Tisdall's appearance as a suitor was sufficiently annoying. There is no
evidence that Stella viewed Tisdall's proposal with any favour, unless it can
be held to be furnished by Swift's belief that the town thought--rightly or
wrongly--that there was an engagement. In any case, there could be no mistake
in future with regard to Swift's attitude towards Stella. She was dearer to
him than anyone else, and his feeling for her would not change, but for
marriage he had neither fortune nor humour. Tisdall consoled himself by
marrying another lady two years afterwards; and though for a long time Swift
entertained for him feelings of dislike, in later life their relations
improved, and Tisdall was one of the witnesses to Swift's will.
The Tale of a Tub was published in 1704, and Swift was soon in constant
intercourse with Addison and the other wits. While he was in England in 1705,
Stella and Mrs. Dingley made a short visit to London. This and a similar
visit in 1708 are the only occasions on which Stella is known to have left
Ireland after taking up her residence in that country. Swift's influence over
women was always very striking. Most of the toasts of the day were his
friends, and he insisted that any lady of wit and quality who desired his
acquaintance should make the first advances. This, he says--writing in 1730--
had been an established rule for over twenty years. In 1708 a dispute on this
question with one toast, Mrs. Long, was referred for settlement to Ginckel
Vanhomrigh, the son of the house where it was proposed that the meeting should
take place; and by the decision--which was in Swift's favour--"Mrs. Vanhomrigh
and her fair daughter Hessy" were forbidden to aid Mrs. Long in her
disobedience for the future. This is the first that we hear of Hester or
Esther Vanhomrigh, who was afterwards to play so marked a part in the story of
Swift's life. Born on February 14, 1690, she was now eighteen. Her father,
Bartholomew Vanhomrigh, a Dublin merchant of Dutch origin, had died in 1703,
leaving his wife a fortune of some sixteen thousand pounds. On the income
from this money Mrs. Vanhomrigh, with her two daughters, Hester and Mary, were
able to mix in fashionable society in London. Swift was introduced to them by
Sir Andrew Fountaine early in 1708, but evidently Stella did not make their
acquaintance, nor indeed hear much, if anything, of them until the time of the
Journal.
Swift's visit to London in 1707-9 had for its object the obtaining for the
Irish Church of the surrender by the Crown of the First-Fruits and Twentieths,
which brought in about 2500 pounds a year. Nothing came of Swift's interviews
with the Whig statesmen, and after many disappointments he returned to Laracor
(June 1709), and conversed with none but Stella and her card-playing friends,
and Addison, now secretary to Lord Wharton.[4] Next year came the fall of the
Whigs, and a request to Swift from the Irish bishops that he would renew the
application for the First-Fruits, in the hope that there would be greater
success with the Tories. Swift reached London in September 1710, and began
the series of letters, giving details of the events of each day, which now
form the Journal to Stella. "I will write something every day to MD," he
says, "and make it a sort of journal; and when it is full I will send it,
whether MD writes or no; and so that will be pretty; and I shall always be in
conversation with MD, and MD with Presto." It is interesting to note that by
way of caution these letters were usually addressed to Mrs. Dingley, and not
to Stella.
The story of Swift's growing intimacy with the Tory leaders, of the success of
his mission, of the increasing coolness towards older acquaintances, and of
his services to the Government, can best be read in the Journal itself. In
the meantime the intimacy with the Vanhomrighs grew rapidly. They were near
neighbours of Swift's, and in a few weeks after his arrival in town we find
frequent allusions to the dinners at their house (where he kept his best gown
and periwig), sometimes with the explanation that he went there "out of mere
listlessness," or because it was wet, or because another engagement had broken
down. Only thrice does he mention the "eldest daughter": once on her
birthday; once on the occasion of a trick played him, when he received a
message that she was suddenly very ill ("I rattled off the daughter"); and
once to state that she was come of age, and was going to Ireland to look after
her fortune. There is evidence that "Miss Essy," or Vanessa, to give her the
name by which she will always be known, was in correspondence with Swift in
July 1710--while he was still in Ireland--and in the spring of 1711;[5] and
early in 1711 Stella seems to have expressed surprise at Swift's intimacy with
the family, for in February he replied, "You say they are of no consequence;
why, they keep as good female company as I do male; I see all the drabs of
quality at this end of the town with them." In the autumn Swift seems to have
thought that Vanessa was keeping company with a certain Hatton, but Mrs. Long-
-possibly meaning to give him a warning hint--remarked that if this were so
"she is not the girl I took her for; but to me she seems melancholy."
In 1712 occasional letters took the place of the daily journal to "MD," but
there is no change in the affectionate style in which Swift wrote. In the
spring he had a long illness, which affected him, indeed, throughout the year.
Other reasons which he gives for the falling off in his correspondence are his
numerous business engagements, and the hope of being able to send some good
news of an appointment for himself. There is only one letter to Stella
between July 19 and September 15, and Dr. Birkbeck Hill argues that the poem
"Cadenus and Vanessa" was composed at that time.[6] If this be so, it must
have been altered next year, because it was not until 1713 that Swift was made
a Dean. Writing on April 19, 1726, Swift said that the poem "was written at
Windsor near fourteen years ago, and dated: it was a task performed on a
frolic among some ladies, and she it was addressed to died some time ago in
Dublin, and on her death the copy shewn by her executor." Several copies were
in circulation, and he was indifferent what was done with it; it was "only a
cavalier business," and if those who would not give allowances were malicious,
it was only what he had long expected.
From this letter it would appear that this remarkable poem was written in the
summer of 1712; whereas the title-page of the pamphlet says it was "written at
Windsor, 1713." Swift visited Windsor in both years, but he had more leisure
in 1712, and we know that Vanessa was also at Windsor in that year. In that
year, too, he was forty-four, the age mentioned in the poem. Neither Swift
nor Vanessa forgot this intercourse: years afterwards Swift wrote to her, "Go
over the scenes of Windsor. . . . Cad thinks often of these"; and again,
"Remember the indisposition at Windsor." We know that this poem was revised
in 1719, when in all probability Swift added the lines to which most exception
can be taken. Cadenus was to be Vanessa's instructor:--
"His conduct might have made him styled
A father, and the nymph his child."
He had "grown old in politics and wit," and "in every scene had kept his
heart," so that he now "understood not what was love." But he had written
much, and Vanessa admired his wit. Cadenus found that her thoughts wandered--
"Though she seemed to listen more
To all he spoke than e'er before."
When she confessed her love, he was filled with "shame, disappointment, guilt,
surprise." He had aimed only at cultivating the mind, and had hardly known
whether she was young or old. But he was flattered, and though he could not
give her love, he offered her friendship, "with gratitude, respect, esteem."
Vanessa took him at his word, and said she would now be tutor, though he was
not apt to learn:--
"But what success Vanessa met
Is to the world a secret yet.
Whether the nymph to please her swain
Talks in a high romantic strain;
Or whether he at last descends
To act with less seraphic ends;
Or, to compound the business, whether
They temper love and books together,
Must never to mankind be told,
Nor shall the conscious Muse unfold."
Such is the poem as we now have it, written, it must be remembered, for
Vanessa's private perusal. It is to be regretted, for her own sake, that she
did not destroy it.
Swift received the reward of his services to the Government--the Deanery of
St. Patrick's, Dublin--in April 1713. Disappointed at what he regarded as
exile, he left London in June. Vanessa immediately began to send him letters
which brought home to him the extent of her passion; and she hinted at
jealousy in the words, "If you are very happy, it is ill-natured of you not to
tell me so, except 'tis what is inconsistent with my own." In his reply Swift
dwelt upon the dreariness of his surroundings at Laracor, and reminded her
that he had said he would endeavour to forget everything in England, and would
write as seldom as he could.
Swift was back again in the political strife in London in September, taking
Oxford's part in the quarrel between that statesman and Bolingbroke. On the
fall of the Tories at the death of Queen Anne, he saw that all was over, and
retired to Ireland, not to return again for twelve years. In the meantime the
intimacy with Vanessa had been renewed. Her mother had died, leaving debts,
and she pressed Swift for advice in the management of her affairs. When she
suggested coming to Ireland, where she had property, he told her that if she
took this step he would "see her very seldom." However, she took up her abode
at Celbridge, only a few miles from Dublin. Swift gave her many cautions, out
of "the perfect esteem and friendship" he felt for her, but he often visited
her. She was dissatisfied, however, begging him to speak kindly, and at least
to counterfeit his former indulgent friendship. "What can be wrong," she
wrote, "in seeing and advising an unhappy young woman? You cannot but know
that your frowns make my life unsupportable." Sometimes he treated the matter
lightly; sometimes he showed annoyance; sometimes he assured her of his esteem
and love, but urged her not to make herself or him "unhappy by imaginations."
He was uniformly unsuccessful in stopping Vanessa's importunity. He
endeavoured, she said, by severities to force her from him; she knew she was
the cause of uneasy reflections to him; but nothing would lessen her
"inexpressible passion."
Unfortunately he failed--partly no doubt from mistaken considerations of
kindness, partly because he shrank from losing her affection--to take
effective steps to put an end to Vanessa's hopes. It would have been better
if he had unhesitatingly made it clear to her that he could not return her
passion, and that if she could not be satisfied with friendship the intimacy
must cease. To quote Sir Henry Craik, "The friendship had begun in literary
guidance: it was strengthened by flattery: it lived on a cold and almost
stern repression, fed by confidences as to literary schemes, and by occasional
literary compliments: but it never came to have a real hold over Swift's
heart."
With 1716 we come to the alleged marriage with Stella. In 1752, seven years
after Swift's death, Lord Orrery, in his Remarks on Swift, said that Stella
was "the concealed, but undoubted, wife of Dr. Swift. . . . If my
informations are right, she was married to Dr. Swift in the year 1716, by Dr.
Ashe, then Bishop of Clogher." Ten years earlier, in 1742, in a letter to
Deane Swift which I have not seen quoted before, Orrery spoke of the advantage
of a wife to a man in his declining years; "nor had the Dean felt a blow, or
wanted a companion, had he been married, or, in other words, had Stella
lived." What this means is not at all clear. In 1754, Dr. Delany, an old
friend of Swift's, wrote, in comment upon Orrery's Remarks, "Your account of
his marriage is, I am satisfied, true." In 1789, George Monck Berkeley, in
his Literary Relics, said that Swift and Stella were married by Dr. Ashe, "who
himself related the circumstances to Bishop Berkeley, by whose relict the
story was communicated to me." Dr. Ashe cannot have told Bishop Berkeley by
word of mouth, because Ashe died in 1717, the year after the supposed
marriage, and Berkeley was then still abroad. But Berkeley was at the time
tutor to Ashe's son, and may therefore have been informed by letter, though it
is difficult to believe that Ashe would write about such a secret so soon
after the event. Thomas Sheridan, on information received from his father,
Dr. Sheridan, Swift's friend, accepted the story of the marriage in his book
(1784), adding particulars which are of very doubtful authenticity; and
Johnson, in his Lives of the Poets, says that Dr. Madden told him that Stella
had related her "melancholy story" to Dr. Sheridan before her death. On the
other hand, Dr. Lyon, Swift's attendant in his later years, disbelieved the
story of the marriage, which was, he said, "founded only on hearsay"; and Mrs.
Dingley "laughed at it as an idle tale," founded on suspicion.
Sir Henry Craik is satisfied with the evidence for the marriage. Mr. Leslie
Stephen is of opinion that it is inconclusive, and Forster could find no
evidence that is at all reasonably sufficient; while Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole,
Mr. Churton Collins, and others are strongly of opinion that no such marriage
ever took place. A full discussion of the evidence would involve the
consideration of the reliability of the witnesses, and the probability of
their having authentic information, and would be out of place here. My own
opinion is that the evidence for the marriage is very far from convincing, and
this view seems to be confirmed by all that we know from his own letters of
Swift's relations with Stella. It has been suggested that she was pained by
reports of Swift's intercourse with Vanessa, and felt that his feelings
towards herself were growing colder; but this is surmise, and no satisfactory
explanation has been given to account for a form of marriage being gone
through after so many years of the closest friendship. There is no reason to
suppose that there was at the time any gossip in circulation about Stella, and
if her reputation was in question, a marriage of which the secret was
carefully kept would obviously be of no benefit to her. Moreover, we are told
that there was no change in their mode of life; if they were married, what
reason could there be for keeping it a secret, or for denying themselves the
closer relationship of marriage? The only possible benefit to Stella was that
Swift would be prevented marrying anyone else. It is impossible, of course,
to disprove a marriage which we are told was secretly performed, without banns
or licence or witnesses; but we may reasonably require strong evidence for so
startling a step. If we reject the tale, the story of Swift's connection with
Stella is at least intelligible; while the acceptance of this marriage
introduces many puzzling circumstances, and makes it necessary to believe that
during the remainder of Stella's life Swift repeatedly spoke of his wife as a
friend, and of himself as one who had never married.[7] What right have we to
put aside Swift's plain and repeated statements? Moreover, his attitude
towards Vanessa for the remaining years of her life becomes much more culpable
if we are to believe that he had given Stella the claim of a wife upon him.[8]
From 1719 onwards we have a series of poems to Stella, written chiefly in
celebration of her birthday. She was now thirty-eight (Swift says, "Thirty-
four--we shan't dispute a year or more"), and the verses abound in laughing
allusions to her advancing years and wasting form. Hers was "an angel's face
a little cracked," but all men would crowd to her door when she was fourscore.
His verses to her had always been
"Without one word of Cupid's darts,
Of killing eyes, or bleeding hearts;
With friendship and esteem possessed,
I ne'er admitted Love a guest."
Her only fault was that she could not bear the lightest touch of blame. Her
wit and sense, her loving care in illness--to which he owed that fact that he
was alive to say it--made her the "best pattern of true friends." She
replied, in lines written on Swift's birthday in 1721, that she was his pupil
and humble friend. He had trained her judgment and refined her fancy and
taste:--
"You taught how I might youth prolong
By knowing what was right and wrong;
How from my heart to bring supplies
Of lustre to my fading eyes;
How soon a beauteous mind repairs
The loss of changed or falling hairs;
How wit and virtue from within
Send out a smoothness o'er the skin
Your lectures could my fancy fix,
And I can please at thirty-six."
In 1723 Vanessa is said to have written to Stella or to Swift--there are
discrepancies in the versions given by Sheridan and Lord Orrery, both of whom
are unreliable--asking whether the report that they were married was true.
Swift, we are told, rode to Celbridge, threw down Vanessa's letter in a great
rage, and left without speaking a word.[9] Vanessa, whose health had been
failing for some time, died shortly afterwards, having cancelled a will in
Swift's favour. She left "Cadenus and Vanessa" for publication, and when
someone said that she must have been a remarkable woman to inspire such a
poem, Stella replied that it was well known that the Dean could write finely
upon a broomstick.
Soon after this tragedy Swift became engrossed in the Irish agitation which
led to the publication of the Drapier's Letters, and in 1726 he paid a long-
deferred visit to London, taking with him the manuscript of Gulliver's
Travels. While in England he was harassed by bad news of Stella, who had been
in continued ill-health for some years. His letters to friends in Dublin show
how greatly he suffered. To the Rev. John Worrall he wrote, in a letter which
he begged him to burn, "What you tell me of Mrs. Johnson I have long expected
with great oppression and heaviness of heart. We have been perfect friends
these thirty-five years. Upon my advice they both came to Ireland, and have
been ever since my constant companions; and the remainder of my life will be a
very melancholy scene, when one of them is gone, whom I most esteemed, upon
the score of every good quality that can possibly recommend a human creature."
He would not for the world be present at her death: "I should be a trouble to
her, and a torment to myself." If Stella came to Dublin, he begged that she
might be lodged in some airy, healthy part, and not in the Deanery, where too
it would be improper for her to die. "There is not a greater folly," he
thinks, "than to contract too great and intimate a friendship, which must
always leave the survivor miserable." To Dr. Stopford he wrote in similar
terms of the "younger of the two" "oldest and dearest friends I have in the
world." "This was a person of my own rearing and instructing from childhood,
who excelled in every good quality that can possibly accomplish a human
creature. . . . I know not what I am saying; but believe me that violent
friendship is much more lasting and as much engaging as violent love." To Dr.
Sheridan he said, "I look upon this to be the greatest event that can ever
happen to me; but all my preparation will not suffice to make me bear it like
a philosopher nor altogether like a Christian. There hath been the most
intimate friendship between us from our childhood, and the greatest merit on
her side that ever was in one human creature towards another."[10] Pope
alludes in a letter to Sheridan to the illness of Swift's "particular friend,"
but with the exception of another reference by Pope, and of a curiously
flippant remark by Bolingbroke, the subject is nowhere mentioned in Swift's
correspondence with his literary and fashionable friends in London.
Swift crossed to Ireland in August, fearing the worst; but Stella rallied, and
in the spring of 1727 he returned to London. In August, however, there came
alarming news, when Swift was himself suffering from giddiness and deafness.
To Dr. Sheridan he wrote that the last act of life was always a tragedy at
best: "it is a bitter aggravation to have one's best friend go before one."
Life was indifferent to him; if he recovered from his disorder it would only
be to feel the loss of "that person for whose sake only life was worth
preserving. I brought both those friends over that we might be happy together
as long as God should please; the knot is broken, and the remaining person you
know has ill answered the end; and the other, who is now to be lost, is all
that was valuable." To Worrall he again wrote (in Latin) that Stella ought
not to be lodged at the Deanery; he had enemies who would place a bad
interpretation upon it if she died there.
Swift left London for Dublin in September; he was detained some days at
Holyhead by stress of weather, and in the private journal which he kept during
that time he speaks of the suspense he was in about his "dearest friend."[11]
In December Stella made a will--signed "Esther Johnson, spinster"--disposing
of her property in the manner Swift had suggested. Her allusions to Swift are
incompatible with any such feeling of resentment as is suggested by Sheridan.
She died on January 28, 1728. Swift could not bear to be present, but on the
night of her death he began to write his very interesting Character of Mrs.
Johnson, from which passages have already been quoted. He there calls her
"the truest, most virtuous and valuable friend that I, or perhaps any other
person, was ever blessed with." Combined with excellent gifts of the mind,
"she had a gracefulness, somewhat more than human, in every motion, word, and
action. Never was so happy a conjunction of civility, freedom, easiness, and
sincerity." Everyone treated her with marked respect, yet everyone was at
ease in her society. She preserved her wit, judgment, and vivacity to the
last, but often complained of her memory. She chose men rather than women for
her companions, "the usual topic of ladies' discourse being such as she had
little knowledge of and less relish." "Honour, truth, liberality, good
nature, and modesty were the virtues she chiefly possessed, and most valued in
her acquaintance." In some Prayers used by Swift during her last sickness, he
begged for pity for "the mournful friends of Thy distressed servant, who sink
under the weight of her present condition, and the fear of losing the most
valuable of our friends." He was too ill to be present at the funeral at St.
Patrick's. Afterwards, we are told, a lock of her hair was found in his desk,
wrapped in a paper bearing the words, "Only a woman's hair."
Swift continued to produce pamphlets manifesting growing misanthropy, though
he showed many kindnesses to people who stood in need of help. He seems to
have given Mrs. Dingley fifty guineas a year, pretending that it came from a
fund for which he was trustee. The mental decay which he had always feared--
"I shall be like that tree," he once said, "I shall die at the top"--became
marked about 1738. Paralysis was followed by aphasia, and after acute pain,
followed by a long period of apathy, death relieved him in October 1745. He
was buried by Stella's side, in accordance with his wishes. The bulk of his
fortune was left to found a hospital for idiots and lunatics.
There has been much rather fruitless discussion respecting the reason or
reasons why Swift did not marry Stella; for if there was any marriage, it was
nothing more than a form. Some have supposed that Swift resolved to remain
unmarried because the insanity of an uncle and the fits and giddiness to which
he was always subject led him to fear insanity in his own case. Others,
looking rather to physical causes, have dwelt upon his coldness of temperament
and indisposition to love; upon the repugnance he often showed towards
marriage, and the tone of some of the verses on the subject written in his
later years. Others, again, have found a cause in his parsimonious habits, in
his dread of poverty, the effects of which he had himself felt, and in the
smallness of his income, at least until he was middle-aged.[12] It may well
be that one or all of these things influenced Swift's action. We cannot say
more. He himself, as we have seen, said, as early as 1704, that if his humour
and means had permitted him to think of marriage, his choice would have been
Stella. Perhaps, however, there is not much mystery in the matter. Swift
seems to have been wanting in passion; probably he was satisfied with the
affection which Stella gave him, and did not wish for more. Such an
attachment as his usually results in marriage, but not necessarily. It is not
sufficiently remembered that the affection began in Stella's childhood. They
were "perfect friends" for nearly forty years, and her advancing years in no
way lessened his love, which was independent of beauty. Whether Stella was
satisfied, who shall say? Mrs. Oliphant thought that few women would be
disposed to pity Stella, or think her life one of blight or injury. Mr.
Leslie Stephen says, "She might and probably did regard his friendship as a
full equivalent for the sacrifice. . . . Is it better to be the most intimate
friend of a man of genius or the wife of a commonplace Tisdall?" Whatever we
may surmise, there is nothing to prove that she was disappointed. She was the
one star which brightened Swift's storm-tossed course; it is well that she was
spared seeing the wreck at the end.
The Journal to Stella is interesting from many points of view: for its
bearing upon Swift's relations with Stella and upon his own character; for the
light which it throws upon the history of the time and upon prominent men of
the day; and for the illustrations it contains of the social life of people of
various classes in London and elsewhere. The fact that it was written without
any thought of publication is one of its greatest attractions. Swift jotted
down his opinions, his hopes, his disappointments, without thought of their
being seen by anybody but his correspondents. The letters are transparently
natural. It has been said more than once that the Journal, by the nature of
the case, contains no full-length portraits, and hardly any sketches. Swift
mentions the people he met, but rarely stops to draw a picture of them. But
though this is true, the casual remarks which he makes often give a vivid
impression of what he thought of the person of whom he is speaking, and in
many cases those few words form a chief part of our general estimate of the
man. There are but few people of note at the time who are not mentioned in
these pages. We see Queen Anne holding a Drawing-room in her bedroom: "she
looked at us round with her fan in her mouth, and once a minute said about
three words to some that were nearest her." We see Harley, afterwards the
Earl of Oxford, "a pure trifler," who was always putting off important
business; Bolingbroke, "a thorough rake"; the prudent Lord Dartmouth, the
other Secretary of State, from whom Swift could never "work out a dinner."
There is Marlborough, "covetous as Hell, and ambitious as the prince of it,"
yet a great general and unduly pressed by the Tories; and the volatile Earl of
Peterborough, "above fifty, and as active as one of five-and-twenty"--"the
ramblingest lying rogue on earth." We meet poor Congreve, nearly blind, and
in fear of losing his commissionership; the kindly Arbuthnot, the Queen's
physician; Addison, whom Swift met more and more rarely, busy with the
preparation and production of Cato; Steele, careless as ever, neglecting
important appointments, and "governed by his wife most abominably"; Prior,
poet and diplomatist, with a "lean carcass"; and young Berkeley of Trinity
College, Dublin, "a very ingenious man and great philosopher," whom Swift
determined to favour as much as he could. Mrs. Masham, the Duchess of
Somerset, the Duchess of Shrewsbury, the Duchess of Hamilton, Lady Betty
Germaine, and many other ladies appear with more or less distinctness; besides
a host of people of less note, of whom we often know little but what Swift
tells us.
Swift throws much light, too, on the daily life of his time. The bellman on
his nightly rounds, calling "Paaast twelvvve o'clock"; the dinner at three, or
at the latest, four; the meetings at coffee-houses; the book-sales; the visit
to the London sights--the lions at the Tower, Bedlam, the tombs in Westminster
Abbey, and the puppet-show; the terrible Mohocks, of whom Swift stood in so
much fear; the polite "howdees" sent to friends by footmen; these and more are
all described in the Journal. We read of curious habits and practices of
fashionable ladies; of the snuff used by Mrs. Dingley and others; of the
jokes--"bites," puns, and the like--indulged in by polite persons. When Swift
lodged at Chelsea, he reached London either by boat, or by coach,--which was
sometimes full when he wanted it,--or by walking across the "Five Fields," not
without fear of robbers at night. The going to or from Ireland was a serious
matter; after the long journey by road came the voyage (weather permitting) of
some fifteen hours, with the risk of being seized or pursued by French
privateers; and when Ireland was reached the roads were of the worst. We have
glimpses of fashionable society in Dublin, of the quiet life at Laracor and
Trim, and of the drinking of the waters at Wexford, where visitors had to put
up with primitive arrangements: "Mrs. Dingley never saw such a place in her
life."
Swift's own characteristics come out in the clearest manner in the Journal,
which gives all his hopes and fears during three busy years. He was pleased
to find on his arrival in London how great a value was set on his friendship
by both political parties: "The Whigs were ravished to see me, and would lay
hold on me as a twig while they are drowning;" but Godolphin's coldness
enraged him, so that he was "almost vowing vengeance." Next day he talked
treason heartily against the Whigs, their baseness and ingratitude, and went
home full of schemes of revenge. "The Tories drily tell me I may make my
fortune, if I please; but I do not understand them, or rather, I DO understand
them." He realised that the Tories might not be more grateful than others,
but he thought they were pursuing the true interests of the public, and was
glad to contribute what was in his power. His vanity was gratified by Harley
inviting him to the private dinners with St. John and Harcourt which were
given on Saturdays, and by their calling him Jonathan; but he did not hope too
much from their friendship: "I said I believed they would leave me Jonathan,
as they found me. . . but I care not."
Of Swift's frugal habits there is abundant evidence in the Journal. When he
came to town he took rooms on a first floor, "a dining-room and bed-chamber,
at eight shillings a week; plaguy dear, but I spend nothing for eating, never
go to a tavern, and very seldom in a coach; yet after all it will be
expensive." In November he mentions that he had a fire: "I am spending my
second half-bushel of coals." In another place he says, "People have so left
the town, that I am at a loss for a dinner. . . . It cost me eighteenpence in
coach-hire before I could find a place to dine in." Elsewhere we find: "This
paper does not cost me a farthing: I have it from the Secretary's office."
He often complains of having to take a coach owing to the dirty condition of
the streets: "This rain ruins me in coach-hire; I walked away sixpennyworth,
and came within a shilling length, and then took a coach, and got a lift back
for nothing."[13]
Swift's arrogance--the arrogance, sometimes, of a man who is morbidly
suspicious that he may be patronised--is shown in the manner in which he
speaks of the grand ladies with whom he came in contact. He calls the Duke of
Ormond's daughters "insolent drabs," and talks of his "mistress, Ophy Butler's
wife, who is grown a little charmless." When the Duchess of Shrewsbury
reproached him for not dining with her, Swift said that was not so soon done;
he expected more advances from ladies, especially duchesses. On another
occasion he 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." The arrogance was, however, often only on the surface. It is
evident that Swift was very kind in many cases. He felt deeply for Mrs. Long
in her misfortunes, living and dying in an obscure country town. On the last
illness of the poet Harrison he says, "I am very much afflicted for him, as he
is my own creature. . . . I was afraid to knock at the door; my mind misgave
me." He was "heartily sorry for poor Mrs. Parnell's 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." Afterwards he
helped Parnell by introducing him to Bolingbroke and Oxford. He found kind
words for Mrs. Manley in her illness, and Lady Ashburnham's death was
"extremely moving. . . . She was my greatest favourite, and I am in excessive
concern for her loss." Lastly, he was extraordinarily patient towards his
servant Patrick, who drank, stopped out at night, and in many ways tried
Swift's temper. There were good points about Patrick, but no doubt the great
consideration which Swift showed him was due in part to the fact that he was a
favourite of the ladies in Dublin, and had Mrs. Vanhomrigh to intercede for
him.
But for the best example of the kindly side of Swift's nature, we must turn to
what he tells us in the Journal about Stella herself. The "little language"
which Swift used when writing to her was the language he employed when playing
with Stella as a little child at Moor Park. Thackeray, who was not much in
sympathy with Swift, said that he knew of "nothing more manly, more tender,
more exquisitely touching, than some of these notes." Swift says that when he
wrote plainly, he felt as if they were no longer alone, but "a bad scrawl is
so snug it looks like a PMD." In writing his fond and playful prattle, he
made up his mouth "just as if he were speaking it."[14]
Though Mrs. Dingley is constantly associated with Stella in the affectionate
greetings in the Journal, she seems to have been included merely as a cloak to
enable him to express the more freely his affection for her companion. Such
phrases as "saucy girls," "sirrahs," "sauceboxes," and the like, are often
applied to both; and sometimes Swift certainly writes as if the one were as
dear to him as the other; thus we find, "Farewell, my dearest lives and
delights, I love you better than ever, if possible, as hope saved, I do, and
ever will. . . . I can count upon nothing, nor will, but upon MD's love and
kindness. . . . And so farewell, dearest MD, Stella, Dingley, Presto, all
together, now and for ever, all together." But as a rule, notwithstanding
Swift's caution, the greetings intended for Stella alone are easily
distinguishable in tone. He often refers to her weak eyes and delicate
health. Thus he writes, "The chocolate is a present, madam, for Stella.
Don't read this, you little rogue, with your little eyes; but give it to
Dingley, pray now; and I will write as plain as the skies." And again, "God
Almighty bless poor Stella, and her eyes and head: what shall we do to cure
them, poor dear life?" Or, "Now to Stella's little postscript; and I am
almost crazed that you vex yourself for not writing. Can't you dictate to
Dingley, and not strain your dear little eyes? I am sure 'tis the grief of my
soul to think you are out of order." They had been keeping his birthday;
Swift wished he had been with them, rather than in London, where he had no
manner of pleasure: "I say Amen with all my heart and vitals, that we may
never be asunder again ten days together while poor Presto lives." A few days
later he says, "I wish I were at Laracor, with dear charming MD," and again,
"Farewell, dearest beloved MD, and love poor poor Presto, who has not had one
happy day since he left you." "I will say no more, but beg you to be easy
till Fortune takes his course, and to believe MD's felicity is the great goal
I aim at in all my pursuits." "How does Stella look, Madam Dingley?" he asks;
"pretty well, a handsome young woman still? Will she pass in a crowd? Will
she make a figure in a country church?" Elsewhere he writes, on receipt of a
letter, "God Almighty bless poor dear Stella, and send her a great many
birthdays, all happy and healthy and wealthy, and with me ever together, and
never asunder again, unless by chance. . . . I can hardly imagine you absent
when I am reading your letter or writing to you. No, faith, you are just here
upon this little paper, and therefore I see and talk with you every evening
constantly, and sometimes in the morning." The letters lay under Swift's
pillow, and he fondled them as if he were caressing Stella's hand.
Of Stella herself we naturally have no direct account in the Journal, but we
hear a good deal of her life in Ireland, and can picture what she was. Among
her friends in and about Trim and Laracor were Dr. Raymond, the vicar of Trim,
and his wife, the Garret Wesleys, the Percevals, and Mr. Warburton, Swift's
curate. At Dublin there were Archdeacon Walls and his family; Alderman
Stoyte, his wife and sister-in-law; Dean Sterne and the Irish Postmaster-
General, Isaac Manley. For years these friends formed a club which met in
Dublin at each other's houses, to sup and play cards ("ombre and claret, and
toasted oranges"), and we have frequent allusions to Stella's indifferent
play, and the money which she lost, much to Mrs. Dingley's chagrin: "Poor
Dingley fretted to see Stella lose that four and elevenpence t'other night."
Mrs. Dingley herself could hardly play well enough to hold the cards while
Stella went into the next room. If at dinner the mutton was underdone, and
"poor Stella cannot eat, poor dear rogue," then "Dingley is so vexed." Swift
was for ever urging Stella to walk and ride; she was "naturally a stout
walker," and "Dingley would do well enough if her petticoats were pinned up."
And we see Stella setting out on and returning from her ride, with her riband
and mask: "Ah, that riding to Laracor gives me short sighs as well as you,"
he says; "all the days I have passed here have been dirt to those."
If the Journal shows us some of Swift's less attractive qualities, it shows
still more how great a store of humour, tenderness, and affection there was in
him. In these letters we see his very soul; in his literary work we are
seldom moved to anything but admiration of his wit and genius. Such daily
outpourings could never have been written for publication, they were meant
only for one who understood him perfectly; and everything that we know of
Stella--her kindliness, her wit, her vivacity, her loyalty--shows that she was
worthy of the confidence.
----------
JOURNAL TO STELLA
LETTER 1.[1]
CHESTER, Sept. 2, 1710.
Joe[2] will give you an account of me till I got into the boat; after which
the rogues made a new bargain, and forced me to give them two crowns, and
talked as if we should not be able to overtake any ship: but in half an hour
we got to the yacht; for the ships lay by [to] wait for my Lord Lieutenant's
steward. We made our voyage in fifteen hours just. Last night I came to this
town, and shall leave it, I believe, on Monday. The first man I met in
Chester was Dr. Raymond.[3] He and Mrs. Raymond were here about levying a
fine, in order to have power to sell their estate. They have found everything
answer very well. They both desire to present their humble services to you:
they do not think of Ireland till next year. I got a fall off my horse,
riding here from Parkgate,[4] but no hurt; the horse understanding falls very
well, and lying quietly till I get up. My duty to the Bishop of Clogher.[5]
I saw him returning from Dunleary; but he saw not me. I take it ill he was
not at Convocation, and that I have not his name to my powers.[6] I beg you
will hold your resolution of going to Trim, and riding there as much as you
can. Let the Bishop of Clogher remind the Bishop of Killala[7] to send me a
letter, with one enclosed to the Bishop of Lichfield.[8] Let all who write to
me, enclose to Richard Steele, Esq., at his office at the Cockpit, near
Whitehall.[9] But not MD; I will pay for their letters at St. James's Coffee-
house,[10] that I may have them the sooner. My Lord Mountjoy[11] is now in
the humour that we should begin our journey this afternoon; so that I have
stole here again to finish this letter, which must be short or long
accordingly. I write this post to Mrs. Wesley,[12] and will tell her, that I
have taken care she may have her bill of one hundred and fifteen pounds
whenever she pleases to send for it; and in that case I desire you will send
it her enclosed and sealed, and have it ready so, in case she should send for
it: otherwise keep it. I will say no more till I hear whether I go to-day or
no: if I do, the letter is almost at an end. My cozen Abigail is grown
prodigiously old. God Almighty bless poo dee richar MD; and, for God's sake,
be merry, and get oo health. I am perfectly resolved to return as soon as I
have done my commission, whether it succeeds or no. I never went to England
with so little desire in my life. If Mrs. Curry[13] makes any difficulty
about the lodgings, I will quit them and pay her from July 9 last, and Mrs.
Brent[14] must write to Parvisol[15] with orders accordingly. The post is
come from London, and just going out; so I have only time to pray God to bless
poor richr MD FW FW MD MD ME ME ME.
LETTER 2.
LONDON, Sept. 9, 1710.
Got here last Thursday,[1] after five days' travelling, weary the first,
almost dead the second, tolerable the third, and well enough the rest; and am
now glad of the fatigue, which has served for exercise; and I am at present
well enough. The Whigs were ravished to see me, and would lay hold on me as a
twig while they are drowning,[2] and the great men making me their clumsy
apologies, etc. But my Lord Treasurer[3] received me with a great deal of
coldness, which has enraged me so, I am almost vowing revenge. I have not yet
gone half my circle; but I find all my acquaintance just as I left them. I
hear my Lady Giffard[4] is much at Court, and Lady Wharton[5] was ridiculing
it t'other day; so I have lost a friend there. I have not yet seen her, nor
intend it; but I will contrive to see Stella's mother[6] some other way. I
writ to the Bishop of Clogher from Chester; and I now write to the Archbishop
of Dublin.[7] Everything is turning upside down; every Whig in great office
will, to a man, be infallibly put out; and we shall have such a winter as hath
not been seen in England. Everybody asks me, how I came to be so long in
Ireland, as naturally as if here were my being; but no soul offers to make it
so: and I protest I shall return to Dublin, and the Canal at Laracor,[8] with
more satisfaction than ever I did in my life. The Tatler[9] expects every day
to be turned out of his employment; and the Duke of Ormond,[10] they say, will
be Lieutenant of Ireland. I hope you are now peaceably in Presto's[11]
lodgings; but I resolve to turn you out by Christmas; in which time I shall
either do my business, or find it not to be done. Pray be at Trim by the time
this letter comes to you; and ride little Johnson, who must needs be now in
good case. I have begun this letter unusually, on the post-night, and have
already written to the Archbishop; and cannot lengthen this. Henceforth I
will write something every day to MD, and make it a sort of journal; and when
it is full, I will send it, whether MD writes or no; and so that will be
pretty: and I shall always be in conversation with MD, and MD with Presto.
Pray make Parvisol pay you the ten pounds immediately; so I ordered him. They
tell me I am grown fatter, and look better; and, on Monday, Jervas[12] is to
retouch my picture. I thought I saw Jack Temple[13] and his wife pass by me
to-day in their coach; but I took no notice of them. I am glad I have wholly
shaken off that family. Tell the Provost,[14] I have obeyed his commands to
the Duke of Ormond; or let it alone, if you please. I saw Jemmy Leigh[15]
just now at the Coffee-house, who asked after you with great kindness: he
talks of going in a fortnight to Ireland. My service to the Dean,[16] and
Mrs. Walls, and her Archdeacon.[17] Will Frankland's[18] wife is near
bringing to-bed, and I have promised to christen the child. I fancy you had
my Chester letter the Tuesday after I writ. I presented Dr. Raymond to Lord
Wharton[19] at Chester. Pray let me know when Joe gets his money.[20] It is
near ten, and I hate to send by the bellman.[21] MD shall have a longer
letter in a week, but I send this only to tell I am safe in London; and so
farewell, etc.
LETTER 3.
LONDON, Sept. 9, 1710.
After seeing the Duke of Ormond, dining with Dr. Cockburn,[1] passing some
part of the afternoon with Sir Matthew Dudley[2] and Will Frankland, the rest
at St. James's Coffee-house, I came home, and writ to the Archbishop of
Dublin and MD, and am going to bed. I forgot to tell you, that I begged Will
Frankland to stand Manley's[3] friend with his father in this shaking season
for places. He told me, his father was in danger to be out; that several were
now soliciting for Manley's place; that he was accused of opening letters;
that Sir Thomas Frankland[4] would sacrifice everything to save himself; and
in that, I fear, Manley is undone, etc.
l0. To-day I dined with Lord Mountjoy at Kensington; saw my mistress, Ophy
Butler's[5] wife, who is grown a little charmless. I sat till ten in the
evening with Addison and Steele: Steele will certainly lose his Gazetteer's
place, all the world detesting his engaging in parties.[6] At ten I went to
the Coffee-house, hoping to find Lord Radnor,[7] whom I had not seen. He was
there; and for an hour and a half we talked treason heartily against the
Whigs, their baseness and ingratitude. And I am come home, rolling
resentments in my mind, and framing schemes of revenge: full of which (having
written down some hints) I go to bed. I am afraid MD dined at home, because
it is Sunday; and there was the little half-pint of wine: for God's sake, be
good girls, and all will be well. Ben Tooke[8] was with me this morning.
11. Seven, morning. I am rising to go to Jervas to finish my picture, and
'tis shaving-day, so good-morrow MD; but don't keep me now, for I can't stay;
and pray dine with the Dean, but don't lose your money. I long to hear from
you, etc.--Ten at night. I sat four hours this morning to Jervas, who has
given my picture quite another turn, and now approves it entirely; but we must
have the approbation of the town. If I were rich enough, I would get a copy
of it, and bring it over. Mr. Addison and I dined together at his lodgings,
and I sat with him part of this evening; and I am now come home to write an
hour. Patrick[9] observes, that the rabble here are much more inquisitive in
politics than in Ireland. Every day we expect changes, and the Parliament to
be dissolved. Lord Wharton expects every day to be out: he is working like a
horse for elections; and, in short, I never saw so great a ferment among all
sorts of people. I had a miserable letter from Joe last Saturday, telling me
Mr. Pratt[10] refuses payment of his money. I have told it Mr. Addison, and
will to Lord Wharton; but I fear with no success. However, I will do all I
can.
12. To-day I presented Mr. Ford[11] to the Duke of Ormond; and paid my first
visit to Lord President,[12] with whom I had much discourse; but put him
always off when he began to talk of Lord Wharton in relation to me, till he
urged it: then I said, he knew I never expected anything from Lord Wharton,
and that Lord Wharton knew that I understood it so. He said that he had
written twice to Lord Wharton about me, who both times said nothing at all to
that part of his letter. I am advised not to meddle in the affair of the
First-Fruits, till this hurry is a little over, which still depends, and we
are all in the dark. Lord President told me he expects every day to be out,
and has done so these two months. I protest, upon my life, I am heartily
weary of this town, and wish I had never stirred.
