The Journal to Stella by Jonathan Swift

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The Journal to Stella

what I had said to the other, and that I had informed him so before. He said all that you may imagine to excuse himself, and approve my conduct. I told him I knew all along that this proceeding of mine was the surest way to send me back to my willows in Ireland, but that I regarded it not, provided I could do the kingdom service in keeping them well together. I minded him how often I had told Lord Treasurer, Lord Keeper, and him together, that all things depended on their union, and that my comfort was to see them love one another; and I had told them all singly that I had not said this by chance, etc. He was in a rage to be thus suspected; swears he will be upon a better foot, or none at all; and I do not see how they can well want him in this juncture. I hope to find a way of settling this matter. I act an honest part, that will bring me neither honour nor praise. MD must think the better of me for it: nobody else shall ever know of it. Here’s politics enough for once; but Madam DD gave me occasion for it. I think I told you I have got into lodgings that don’t smell illO Lord! the spectacles: well, I’ll do that on Monday too; although it goes against me to be employed for folks that neither you nor I care a groat for. Is the eight pounds from Hawkshaw included in the thirty−nine pounds five shillings and twopence? How do I know by this how my account stands? Can’t you write five or six lines to cast it up? Mine is forty−four pounds per annum, and eight pounds from Hawkshaw makes fifty−two pounds. Pray set it right, and let me know; you had best.And so now I have answered N.21, and ’tis late, and I will answer N.22 in my next: this cannot go to−night, but shall on Tuesday: and so go to your play, and lose your money, with your two eggs a penny; silly jade; you witty? very pretty.

21. Mrs. Van would have me dine with her again to−day, and so I did, though Lady Mountjoy has sent two or three times to have me see and dine with her, and she is a little body I love very well. My head has ached a little in the evenings these three or four days, but it is not of the giddy sort, so I do not much value it. I was to see Lord Harley to−day, but Lord Treasurer took physic; and I could not see him. He has voided much gravel, and is better, but not well: he talks of going on Tuesday to see the Queen at Hampton Court; I wish he may be able. I never saw so fine a summer day as this was: how is it with you, pray? and can’t you remember, naughty packs? I han’t seen Lord Pembroke yet. He will be sorry to miss Dilly: I wonder you say nothing of Dilly’s being got to Ireland; if he be not there soon, I shall have some certain odd thoughts: guess them if you can.

22. I dined in the City to−day with Dr. Freind, at one of my printers: I inquired for Leigh, but could not find him: I have forgot what sort of apron you want. I must rout among your letters, a needle in a bottle of hay. I gave Sterne directions, but where to find him Lord knows. I have bespoken the spectacles; got a set of Examiners, and five pamphlets, which I have either written or contributed to, except the best, which is the vindication of the Duke of Marlborough, and is entirely of the author of the Atalantis.[17] I have settled Dingley’s affair with Tooke, who has undertaken it, and understands it. I have bespoken a Miscellany: what would you have me do more? It cost me a shilling coming home; it rains terribly, and did so in the morning.

Lord Treasurer has had an ill day, in much pain. He writes and does business in his chamber now he is ill: the man is bewitched: he desires to see me, and I’ll maul him, but he will not value it a rush. I am half weary of them all. I often burst out into these thoughts, and will certainly steal away as soon as I decently can. I have many friends, and many enemies; and the last are more constant in their nature. I have no shuddering at all to think of retiring to my old circumstances, if you can be easy; but I will always live in Ireland as I did the last time; I will not hunt for dinners there, nor converse with more than a very few.

23. Morning. This goes to−day, and shall be sealed by and by. Lord Treasurer takes physic again to−day: I believe I shall dine with Lord Dupplin. Mr. Tooke brought me a letter directed for me at Morphew’s the bookseller. I suppose, by the postage, it came from Ireland. It is a woman’s hand, and seems false spelt on purpose: it is in such sort of verse as Harris’s petition;[18] rallies me for writing merry things, and not upon divinity; and is like the subject of the Archbishop’s last letter, as I told you. Can you guess whom it came from? It is not ill written; pray find it out. There is a Latin verse at the end of it all rightly spelt; yet the English, as I think, affectedly wrong in many places. My plaguing time is coming. A young fellow brought me a letter from Judge Coote,[19] with recommendation to be lieutenant of a man−of−war. He is the son of one Echlin,[20] who was minister of Belfast before Tisdall, and I have got some other new customers; but I LETTER 32.

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shall trouble my friends as little as possible. Saucy Stella used to jeer me for meddling with other folks’

affairs; but now I am punished for it.Patrick has brought the candle, and I have no more room. Farewell, etc.

etc.

Here is a full and true account of Stella’s new spelling:[21]

Plaguely, Plaguily. Dineing, Dining. Straingers, Strangers. Chais, Chase. Waist, Wast. Houer, Hour.

Immagin, Imagine. A bout, About. Intellegence, Intelligence. Merrit, Merit. Aboundance, Abundance.

Secreet, Secret. Phamphlets, Pamphlets. Bussiness, Business.

Tell me truly, sirrah, how many of these are mistakes of the pen, and how many are you to answer for as real ill spelling? There are but fourteen; I said twenty by guess. You must not be angry, for I will have you spell right, let the world go how it will. Though, after all, there is but a mistake of one letter in any of these words.

I allow you henceforth but six false spellings in every letter you send me.

LETTER 33.

LONDON, Oct. 23, 1711.

I dined with Lord Dupplin as I told you I would, and put my thirty−second into the post−office my own self; and I believe there has not been one moment since we parted wherein a letter was not upon the road going or coming to or from PMD. If the Queen knew it, she would give us a pension; for it is we bring good luck to their post−boys and their packets; else they would break their necks and sink. But, an old saying and a true one:

Be it snow, or storm, or hail,

PMD’s letters never fail;

Cross winds may sometimes make them tarry,

But PMD’s letters can’t miscarry.

Terrible rain to−day, but it cleared up at night enough to save my twelvepence coming home. Lord Treasurer is much better this evening. I hate to have him ill, he is so confoundedly careless. I won’t answer your letter yet, so be satisfied.

24. I called at Lord Treasurer’s to−day at noon: he was eating some broth in his bed−chamber, undressed, with a thousand papers about him. He has a little fever upon him, and his eye terribly bloodshot; yet he dressed himself and went out to the Treasury. He told me he had a letter from a lady with a complaint against me; it was from Mrs. Cutts, a sister of Lord Cutts, who writ to him that I had abused her brother:[1] you remember the “Salamander,” it is printed in the Miscellany. I told my lord that I would never regard complaints, and that I expected, whenever he received any against me, he would immediately put them into the fire, and forget them, else I should have no quiet. I had a little turn in my head this morning; which, though it did not last above a moment, yet being of the true sort, has made me as weak as a dog all this day.

‘Tis the first I have had this half−year. I shall take my pills if I hear of it again. I dined at Lady Mountjoy’s with Harry Coote,[2] and went to see Lord Pembroke upon his coming to town.The Whig party are furious against a peace, and every day some ballad comes out reflecting on the Ministry on that account. The Secretary St. John has seized on a dozen booksellers and publishers into his messengers’ hands.[3] Some of the foreign Ministers have published the preliminaries agreed on here between France and England; and people rail at them as insufficient to treat a peace upon; but the secret is, that the French have agreed to articles much more important, which our Ministers have not communicated, and the people, who think they know all, are discontented that there is no more. This was an inconvenience I foretold to the Secretary, but we could contrive no way to fence against it. So there’s politics for you.