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The Journal to Stella

J >> Jonathan Swift >> The Journal to Stella




23. I have not been in London to-day: for Dr. Gastrell[8] and I dined, by
invitation, with the Dean of Carlisle, my neighbour; so I know not what they
are doing in the world, a mere country gentleman. And are not you ashamed
both to go into the country just when I did, and stay ten days, just as I did,
saucy monkeys? But I never rode; I had no horses, and our coach was out of
order, and we went and came in a hired one. Do you keep your lodgings when
you go to Wexford? I suppose you do; for you will hardly stay above two
months. I have been walking about our town to-night, and it is a very scurvy
place for walking. I am thinking to leave it, and return to town, now the
Irish folks are gone. Ford goes in three days. How does Dingley divert
herself while Stella is riding? work, or read, or walk? Does Dingley ever
read to you? Had you ever a book with you in the country? Is all that left
off? Confess. Well, I'll go sleep; 'tis past eleven, and I go early to
sleep: I write nothing at night but to MD.

24. Stratford and I, and Pastoral Philips (just come from Denmark) dined at
Ford's to-day, who paid his way, and goes for Ireland on Tuesday. The Earl of
Peterborow is returned from Vienna without one servant: he left them
scattered in several towns of Germany. I had a letter from him, four days
ago, from Hanover, where he desires I would immediately send him an answer to
his house at Parson's Green,[9] about five miles off. I wondered what he
meant, till I heard he was come. He sent expresses, and got here before them.
He is above fifty, and as active as one of five-and-twenty. I have not seen
him yet, nor know when I shall, or where to find him.

25. Poor Duke of Shrewsbury has been very ill of a fever: we were all in a
fright about him: I thank God, he is better. I dined to-day at Lord
Ashburnham's, with his lady, for he was not at home: she is a very good girl,
and always a great favourite of mine. Sterne tells me he has desired a friend
to receive your box in Chester, and carry it over. I fear he will miscarry in
his business, which was sent to the Treasury before he was recommended; for I
was positive only to second his recommendations, and all his other friends
failed him. However, on your account I will do what I can for him to-morrow
with the secretary of the Treasury.

26. We had much company to-day at dinner at Lord Treasurer's. Prior never
fails: he is a much better courtier than I; and we expect every day that he
will be a Commissioner of the Customs, and that in a short time a great many
more will be turned out. They blame Lord Treasurer for his slowness in
turning people out; but I suppose he has his reasons. They still keep my
neighbour Atterbury in suspense about the deanery of Christ Church,[10] which
has been above six months vacant, and he is heartily angry. I reckon you are
now preparing for your Wexford expedition; and poor Dingley is full of carking
and caring, scolding. How long will you stay? Shall I be in Dublin before
you return? Don't fall and hurt yourselves, nor overturn the coach. Love one
another, and be good girls; and drink Presto's health in water, Madam Stella;
and in good ale, Madam Dingley.

27. The Secretary appointed me to dine with him to-day, and we were to do a
world of business: he came at four, and brought Prior with him, and had
forgot the appointment, and no business was done. I left him at eight, and
went to change my gown at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's; and there was Sir Andrew
Fountaine at ombre with Lady Ashburnham and Lady Frederic Schomberg, and Lady
Mary Schomberg,[11] and Lady Betty Butler, and others, talking; and it put me
in mind of the Dean and Stoyte, and Walls, and Stella at play, and Dingley and
I looking on. I stayed with them till ten, like a fool. Lady Ashburnham is
something like Stella; so I helped her, and wished her good cards. It is
late, etc.

28. Well, but I must answer this letter of our MD's. Saturday approaches,
and I han't written down this side. O, faith, Presto has been a sort of a
lazy fellow: but Presto will remove to town this day se'ennight; the
Secretary has commanded me to do so; and I believe he and I shall go for some
days to Windsor, where he will have leisure to mind some business we have
together. To-day, our Society (it must not be called a Club) dined at Mr.
Secretary's: we were but eight; the rest sent excuses, or were out of town.
We sat till eight, and made some laws and settlements; and then I went to take
leave of Lady Ashburnham, who goes out of town to-morrow, as a great many of
my acquaintance are already, and left the town very thin. I shall make but
short journeys this summer, and not be long out of London. The days are grown
sensibly short already, all our fruit blasted. Your Duke of Ormond is still
at Chester; and perhaps this letter will be with you as soon as he. Sterne's
business is quite blown up: they stand to it to send him back to the
Commissioners of the Revenue in Ireland for a reference, and all my credit
could not alter it, though I almost fell out with the secretary of the
Treasury,[12] who is my Lord Treasurer's cousin-germain, and my very good
friend. It seems every step he has hitherto taken hath been wrong; at least
they say so, and that is the same thing. I am heartily sorry for it; and I
really think they are in the wrong, and use him hardly; but I can do no more.

29. Steele has had the assurance to write to me that I would engage my Lord
Treasurer to keep a friend of his in an employment: I believe I told you how
he and Addison served me for my good offices in Steele's behalf; and I
promised Lord Treasurer never to speak for either of them again. Sir Andrew
Fountaine and I dined to-day at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's. Dilly Ashe has been in
town this fortnight: I saw him twice; he was four days at Lord Pembroke's in
the country, punning with him; his face is very well. I was this evening two
or three hours at Lord Treasurer's, who called me Dr. Thomas Swift twenty
times; that's his way of teasing. I left him at nine, and got home here by
ten, like a gentleman; and to-morrow morning I'll answer your little letter,
sirrahs.

30. Morning. I am terribly sleepy always in a morning; I believe it is my
walk over-night that disposes me to sleep: faith, 'tis now striking eight,
and I am but just awake. Patrick comes early, and wakes me five or six times;
but I have excuses, though I am three parts asleep. I tell him I sat up late,
or slept ill in the night, and often it is a lie. I have now got little MD's
letter before me, N.16, no more, nor no less, no mistake. Dingley says, "This
letter won't be above six lines"; and I was afraid it was true, though I saw
it filled on both sides. The Bishop of Clogher writ me word you were in the
country, and that he heard you were well: I am glad at heart MD rides, and
rides, and rides. Our hot weather ended in May, and all this month has been
moderate: it was then so hot I was not able to endure it; I was miserable
every moment, and found myself disposed to be peevish and quarrelsome: I
believe a very hot country would make me stark mad.--Yes, my head continues
pretty tolerable, and I impute it all to walking. Does Stella eat fruit? I
eat a little; but I always repent, and resolve against it. No, in very hot
weather I always go to town by water; but I constantly walk back, for then the
sun is down. And so Mrs. Proby[13] goes with you to Wexford: she's admirable
company; you'll grow plaguy wise with those you frequent. Mrs. Taylor and
Mrs. Proby! take care of infection. I believe my two hundred pounds will be
paid, but that Sir Alexander Cairnes is a scrupulous puppy: I left the bill
with Mr. Stratford, who is to have the money. Now, Madam Stella, what say
you? you ride every day; I know that already, sirrah; and, if you rid every
day for a twelvemonth, you would be still better and better. No, I hope
Parvisol will not have the impudence to make you stay an hour for the money;
if he does, I'll UN-PARVISOL him; pray let me know. O Lord, how hasty we are!
Stella can't stay writing and writing; she must write and go a cock-horse,
pray now. Well, but the horses are not come to the door; the fellow can't
find the bridle; your stirrup is broken; where did you put the whips, Dingley?
Marget, where have you laid Mrs. Johnson's ribbon to tie about her? reach me
my mask: sup up this before you go. So, so, a gallop, a gallop: sit fast,
sirrah, and don't ride hard upon the stones.--Well, now Stella is gone, tell
me, Dingley, is she a good girl? and what news is that you are to tell me?--
No, I believe the box is not lost: Sterne says it is not.--No, faith, you
must go to Wexford without seeing your Duke of Ormond, unless you stay on
purpose; perhaps you may be so wise.--I tell you this is your sixteenth
letter; will you never be satisfied? No, no, I will walk late no more; I
ought less to venture it than other people, and so I was told: but I will
return to lodge in town next Thursday. When you come from Wexford, I would
have you send a letter of attorney to Mr. Benjamin Tooke, bookseller, in
London, directed to me; and he shall manage your affair. I have your
parchment safely locked up in London.--O, Madam Stella, welcome home; was it
pleasant riding? did your horse stumble? how often did the man light to settle
your stirrup? ride nine miles! faith, you have galloped indeed. Well, but
where is the fine thing you promised me? I have been a good boy, ask Dingley
else. I believe you did not meet the fine-thing-man: faith, you are a cheat.
So you will see Raymond and his wife in town. Faith, that riding to Laracor
gives me short sighs, as well as you. All the days I have passed here have
been dirt to those. I have been gaining enemies by the scores, and friends by
the couples; which is against the rules of wisdom, because they say one enemy
can do more hurt than ten friends can do good. But I have had my revenge at
least, if I get nothing else. And so let Fate govern.--Now I think your
letter is answered; and mine will be shorter than ordinary, because it must go
to-day. We have had a great deal of scattering rain for some days past, yet
it hardly keeps down the dust.--We have plays acted in our town; and Patrick
was at one of them, oh oh. He was damnably mauled one day when he was drunk;
he was at cuffs with a brother-footman, who dragged him along the floor upon
his face, which looked for a week after as if he had the leprosy; and I was
glad enough to see it. I have been ten times sending him over to you; yet now
he has new clothes, and a laced hat, which the hatter brought by his orders,
and he offered to pay for the lace out of his wages.--I am to dine to-day with
Dilly at Sir Andrew Fountaine's, who has bought a new house, and will be weary
of it in half a year. I must rise and shave, and walk to town, unless I go
with the Dean in his chariot at twelve, which is too late: and I have not
seen that Lord Peterborow yet. The Duke of Shrewsbury is almost well again,
and will be abroad in a day or two: what care you? There it is now: you do
not care for my friends. Farewell, my dearest lives and delights; I love you
better than ever, if possible, as hope saved, I do, and ever will. God
Almighty bless you ever, and make us happy together! I pray for this twice
every day; and I hope God will hear my poor hearty prayers.--Remember, if I am
used ill and ungratefully, as I have formerly been, 'tis what I am prepared
for, and shall not wonder at it. Yet I am now envied, and thought in high
favour, and have every day numbers of considerable men teasing me to solicit
for them. And the Ministry all use me perfectly well; and all that know them
say they love me. Yet I can count upon nothing, nor will, but upon MD's love
and kindness.--They think me useful; they pretended they were afraid of none
but me, and that they resolved to have me; they have often confessed this:
yet all makes little impression on me.--Pox of these speculations! they give
me the spleen; and that is a disease I was not born to. Let me alone,
sirrahs, and be satisfied: I am, as long as MD and Presto are well.

Little wealth,
And much health,
And a life by stealth:

that is all we want; and so farewell, dearest MD; Stella, Dingley, Presto, all
together, now and for ever all together. Farewell again and again.



LETTER 26.

CHELSEA, June 30, 1711.

See what large paper I am forced to take, to write to MD; Patrick has brought
me none clipped; but, faith, the next shall be smaller. I dined to-day, as I
told you, with Dilly at Sir Andrew Fountaine's: there were we wretchedly
punning, and writing together to Lord Pembroke. Dilly is just such a puppy as
ever; and it is so uncouth, after so long an intermission. My twenty-fifth is
gone this evening to the post. I think I will direct my next (which is this)
to Mr. Curry's, and let them send it to Wexford; and then the next enclosed to
Reading. Instruct me how I shall do. I long to hear from you from Wexford,
and what sort of place it is. The town grows very empty and dull. This
evening I have had a letter from Mr. Philips, the pastoral poet, to get him a
certain employment from Lord Treasurer. I have now had almost all the Whig
poets my solicitors; and I have been useful to Congreve, Steele, and Harrison:
but I will do nothing for Philips; I find he is more a puppy than ever, so
don't solicit for him. Besides, I will not trouble Lord Treasurer, unless
upon some very extraordinary occasion.

July 1. Dilly lies conveniently for me when I come to town from Chelsea of a
Sunday, and go to the Secretary's; so I called at his lodgings this morning,
and sent for my gown, and dressed myself there. He had a letter from the
Bishop, with an account that you were set out for Wexford the morning he writ,
which was June 26, and he had the letter the 30th; that was very quick: the
Bishop says you design to stay there two months or more. Dilly had also a
letter from Tom Ashe, full of Irish news; that your Lady Lyndon[1] is dead,
and I know not what besides of Dr. Coghill[2] losing his drab, etc. The
Secretary was gone to Windsor, and I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh. Lord
Treasurer is at Windsor too; they will be going and coming all summer, while
the Queen is there, and the town is empty, and I fear I shall be sometimes
forced to stoop beneath my dignity, and send to the ale-house for a dinner.
Well, sirrahs, had you a good journey to Wexford? did you drink ale by the
way? were you never overturned? how many things did you forget? do you lie on
straw in your new town where you are? Cudshoe,[3] the next letter to Presto
will be dated from Wexford. What fine company have you there? what new
acquaintance have you got? You are to write constantly to Mrs. Walls and Mrs.
Stoyte: and the Dean said, "Shall we never hear from you?" "Yes, Mr. Dean,
we'll make bold to trouble you with a letter." Then at Wexford; when you meet
a lady, "Did your waters pass well this morning, madam?" Will Dingley drink
them too? Yes, I warrant; to get her a stomach. I suppose you are all
gamesters at Wexford. Do not lose your money, sirrah, far from home. I
believe I shall go to Windsor in a few days; at least, the Secretary tells me
so. He has a small house there, with just room enough for him and me; and I
would be satisfied to pass a few days there sometimes. Sirrahs, let me go to
sleep, it is past twelve in our town.

2. Sterne came to me this morning, and tells me he has yet some hopes of
compassing his business: he was with Tom Harley, the secretary of the
Treasury, and made him doubt a little he was in the wrong; the poor man tells
me it will almost undo him if he fails. I called this morning to see Will
Congreve, who lives much by himself, is forced to read for amusement, and
cannot do it without a magnifying-glass. I have set him very well with the
Ministry, and I hope he is in no danger of losing his place. I dined in the
City with Dr. Freind, not among my merchants, but with a scrub instrument of
mischief of mine, whom I never mentioned to you, nor am like to do. You two
little saucy Wexfordians, you are now drinking waters. You drink waters! you
go fiddlestick. Pray God send them to do you good; if not, faith, next summer
you shall come to the Bath.

3. Lord Peterborow desired to see me this morning at nine; I had not seen him
before since he came home. I met Mrs. Manley[4] there, who was soliciting him
to get some pension or reward for her service in the cause, by writing her
Atalantis, and prosecution, etc., upon it. I seconded her, and hope they will
do something for the poor woman. My lord kept me two hours upon politics: he
comes home very sanguine; he has certainly done great things at Savoy and
Vienna, by his negotiations: he is violent against a peace, and finds true
what I writ to him, that the Ministry seems for it. He reasons well; yet I am
for a peace. I took leave of Lady Kerry, who goes to-morrow for Ireland; she
picks up Lord Shelburne and Mrs. Pratt at Lord Shelburne's house. I was this
evening with Lord Treasurer: Tom Harley was there, and whispered me that he
began to doubt about Sterne's business; I told him he would find he was in the
wrong. I sat two or three hours at Lord Treasurer's; he rallied me
sufficiently upon my refusing to take him into our Club, and told a judge who
was with us that my name was Thomas Swift. I had a mind to prevent Sir H.
Belasyse[5] going to Spain, who is a most covetous cur, and I fell a railing
against avarice, and turned it so that he smoked me, and named Belasyse. I
went on, and said it was a shame to send him; to which he agreed, but desired
I would name some who understood business, and do not love money, for he could
not find them. I said there was something in a Treasurer different from other
men; that we ought not to make a man a Bishop who does not love divinity, or a
General who does not love war; and I wondered why the Queen would make a man
Lord Treasurer who does not love money. He was mightily pleased with what I
said. He was talking of the First-Fruits of England, and I took occasion to
tell him that I would not for a thousand pounds anybody but he had got them
for Ireland, who got them for England too. He bid me consider what a thousand
pounds was; I said I would have him to know I valued a thousand pounds as
little as he valued a million.--Is it not silly to write all this? but it
gives you an idea what our conversation is with mixed company. I have taken a
lodging in Suffolk Street, and go to it on Thursday; and design to walk the
Park and the town, to supply my walking here: yet I will walk here sometimes
too, in a visit now and then to the Dean.[6] When I was almost at home,
Patrick told me he had two letters for me, and gave them to me in the dark,
yet I could see one of them was from saucy MD. I went to visit the Dean for
half an hour; and then came home, and first read the other letter, which was
from the Bishop of Clogher, who tells me the Archbishop of Dublin mentioned in
a full assembly of the clergy the Queen's granting the First-Fruits, said it
was done by the Lord Treasurer, and talked much of my merit in it: but
reading yours I find nothing of that: perhaps the Bishop lies, out of a
desire to please me. I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh. Well, sirrahs, you are
gone to Wexford; but I'll follow you.

4. Sterne came to me again this morning, to advise about reasons and
memorials he is drawing up; and we went to town by water together; and having
nothing to do, I stole into the City to an instrument of mine, and then went
to see poor Patty Rolt,[7] who has been in town these two months with a cousin
of hers. Her life passes with boarding in some country town as cheap as she
can, and, when she runs out, shifting to some cheaper place, or coming to town
for a month. If I were rich, I would ease her, which a little thing would do.
Some months ago I sent her a guinea, and it patched up twenty circumstances.
She is now going to Berkhamstead in Hertfordshire. It has rained and hailed
prodigiously to-day, with some thunder. This is the last night I lie at
Chelsea; and I got home early, and sat two hours with the Dean, and ate
victuals, having had a very scurvy dinner. I'll answer your letter when I
come to live in town. You shall have a fine London answer: but first I will
go sleep, and dream of MD.

London, July 5. This day I left Chelsea for good (that's a genteel phrase),
and am got into Suffolk Street. I dined to-day at our Society, and we are
adjourned for a month, because most of us go into the country: we dined at
Lord Keeper's with young Harcourt, and Lord Keeper was forced to sneak off,
and dine with Lord Treasurer, who had invited the Secretary and me to dine
with him; but we scorned to leave our company, as George Granville did, whom
we have threatened to expel: however, in the evening I went to Lord
Treasurer, and, among other company, found a couple of judges with him; one of
them, Judge Powell,[8] an old fellow with grey hairs, was the merriest old
gentleman I ever saw, spoke pleasant things, and laughed and chuckled till he
cried again. I stayed till eleven, because I was not now to walk to Chelsea.

6. An ugly rainy day. I was to visit Mrs. Barton, then called at Mrs.
Vanhomrigh's, where Sir Andrew Fountaine and the rain kept me to dinner; and
there did I loiter all the afternoon, like a fool, out of perfect laziness,
and the weather not permitting me to walk: but I'll do so no more. Are your
waters at Wexford good in this rain? I long to hear how you are established
there, how and whom you visit, what is your lodging, what are your
entertainments. You are got far southwards; but I think you must eat no fruit
while you drink the waters. I ate some Kentish cherries t'other day, and I
repent it already; I have felt my head a little disordered. We had not a hot
day all June, or since, which I reckon a mighty happiness. Have you left a
direction with Reading for Wexford? I will, as I said, direct this to
Curry's, and the next to Reading; or suppose I send this at a venture straight
to Wexford? It would vex me to have it miscarry. I had a letter to-night
from Parvisol, that White has paid me most of my remaining money; and another
from Joe, that they have had their election at Trim, but not a word of who is
chosen portreeve.[9] Poor Joe is full of complaints, says he has enemies, and
fears he will never get his two hundred pounds; and I fear so too, although I
have done what I could.--I'll answer your letter when I think fit, when saucy
Presto thinks fit, sirrahs. I am not at leisure yet; when I have nothing to
do, perhaps I may vouchsafe.--O Lord, the two Wexford ladies; I'll go dream of
you both.

7. It was the dismallest rainy day I ever saw: I went to the Secretary in
the morning, and he was gone to Windsor. Then it began raining, and I struck
in to Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, and dined, and stayed till night very dull and
insipid. I hate this town in summer; I'll leave it for a while, if I can have
time.

8. I have a fellow of your town, one Tisdall,[10] lodges in the same house
with me. Patrick told me Squire Tisdall and his lady lodged here. I
pretended I never heard of him; but I knew his ugly face, and saw him at
church in the next pew to me, and he often looked for a bow, but it would not
do. I think he lives in Capel Street, and has an ugly fine wife in a fine
coach. Dr. Freind and I dined in the City by invitation, and I drank punch,
very good, but it makes me hot. People here are troubled with agues by this
continuance of wet, cold weather; but I am glad to find the season so
temperate. I was this evening to see Will Congreve, who is a very agreeable
companion.

9. I was to-day in the City, and dined with Mr. Stratford, who tells me Sir
Alexander Cairnes makes difficulties about paying my bill; so that I cannot
give order yet to Parvisol to deliver up the bond to Dr. Raymond. To-morrow I
shall have a positive answer: that Cairnes is a shuffling scoundrel; and
several merchants have told me so: what can one expect from a Scot and a
fanatic? I was at Bateman's the bookseller's, to see a fine old library he
has bought; and my fingers itched, as yours would do at a china-shop; but I
resisted, and found everything too dear, and I have fooled away too much money
that way already. So go and drink your waters, saucy rogue, and make yourself
well; and pray walk while you are there: I have a notion there is never a
good walk in Ireland.[11] Do you find all places without trees? Pray observe
the inhabitants about Wexford; they are old English; see what they have
particular in their manners, names, and language: magpies have been always
there, and nowhere else in Ireland, till of late years. They say the cocks
and dogs go to sleep at noon, and so do the people. Write your travels, and
bring home good eyes and health.

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