The Journal to Stella. Джонатан Свифт

the struggles of a cunning provoked discarded party, and the triumphs of one in power; of both which I shall be an indifferent spectator, and return very peaceably to Ireland, when I have done my part in the affair I am entrusted with, whether it succeeds or no. To-morrow I change my lodgings in Pall Mall for one in Bury Street, [15a] where I suppose I shall continue while I stay in London. If anything happens to-morrow, I will add it.—Robin’s Coffee-house. [15b] We have great news just now from Spain; Madrid taken, and Pampeluna. I am here ever interrupted.

      21. I have just received your letter, which I will not answer now; God be thanked all things are so well. I find you have not yet had my second: I had a letter from Parvisol, who tells me he gave Mrs. Walls a bill of twenty pounds for me, to be given to you; but you have not sent it. This night the Parliament is dissolved: great news from Spain; King Charles and Stanhope are at Madrid, and Count Staremberg has taken Pampeluna. Farewell. This is from St. James’s Coffee-house. I will begin my answer to your letter to-night, but not send it this week. Pray tell me whether you like this journal way of writing.—I don’t like your reasons for not going to Trim. Parvisol tells me he can sell your horse. Sell it, with a pox? Pray let him know that he shall sell his soul as soon. What? sell anything that Stella loves, and may sometimes ride? It is hers, and let her do as she pleases: pray let him know this by the first that you know goes to Trim. Let him sell my grey, and be hanged.

LETTER IV.

       Table of Contents

      London, Sept. 21, 1710.

      Here must I begin another letter, on a whole sheet, for fear saucy little MD should be angry, and think much that the paper is too little. I had your letter this night, as told you just and no more in my last; for this must be taken up in answering yours, saucebox. I believe I told you where I dined to-day; and to-morrow I go out of town for two days to dine with the same company on Sunday; Molesworth [16a] the Florence Envoy, Stratford, and some others. I heard to-day that a gentlewoman from Lady Giffard’s house had been at the Coffee-house to inquire for me. It was Stella’s mother, I suppose. I shall send her a penny-post letter [16b] to-morrow, and contrive to see her without hazarding seeing Lady Giffard, which I will not do until she begs my pardon.

      22. I dined to-day at Hampstead with Lady Lucy, etc., and when I got home found a letter from Joe, with one enclosed to Lord Wharton, which I will send to his Excellency, and second it as well as I can; but to talk of getting the Queen’s order is a jest. Things are in such a combustion here, that I am advised not to meddle yet in the affair I am upon, which concerns the clergy of a whole kingdom; and does he think anybody will trouble the Queen about Joe? We shall, I hope, get a recommendation from the Lord Lieutenant to the trustees for the linen business, and I hope that will do; and so I will write to him in a few days, and he must have patience. This is an answer to part of your letter as well as his. I lied; it is to-morrow I go to the country, and I won’t answer a bit more of your letter yet.

      23. Here is such a stir and bustle with this little MD of ours; I must be writing every night; I can’t go to bed without a word to them; I can’t put out my candle till I have bid them good-night: O Lord, O Lord! Well, I dined the first time to-day, with Will Frankland and his fortune: she is not very handsome. Did I not say I would go out of town to-day? I hate lying abroad and clutter; I go to-morrow in Frankland’s chariot, and come back at night. Lady Berkeley has invited me to Berkeley Castle, and Lady Betty Germaine [17a] to Drayton in Northamptonshire; and I’ll go to neither. Let me alone, I must finish my pamphlet. I have sent a long letter to Bickerstaff: [17b] let the Bishop of Clogher smoke [17c] it if he can. Well, I’ll write to the Bishop of Killala; but you might have told him how sudden and unexpected my journey was though. Deuce take Lady S—; and if I know D—y, he is a rawboned-faced fellow, not handsome, nor visibly so young as you say: she sacrifices two thousand pounds a year, and keeps only six hundred. Well, you have had all my land journey in my second letter, and so much for that. So, you have got into Presto’s lodgings; very fine, truly! We have had a fortnight of the most glorious weather on earth, and still continues: I hope you have made the best of it. Ballygall [17d] will be a pure [17e] good place for air, if Mrs. Ashe makes good her promise. Stella writes like an emperor: I am afraid it hurts your eyes; take care of that pray, pray, Mrs. Stella. Can’t you do what you will with your own horse? Pray don’t let that puppy Parvisol sell him. Patrick is drunk about three times a week, and I bear it, and he has got the better of me; but one of these days I will positively turn him off to the wide world, when none of you are by to intercede for him.—Stuff—how can I get her husband into the Charter-house? get a — into the Charter-house.—Write constantly! Why, sirrah, don’t I write every day, and sometimes twice a day to MD? Now I have answered all your letter, and the rest must be as it can be: send me my bill. Tell Mrs. Brent [18a] what I say of the Charter-house. I think this enough for one night; and so farewell till this time to-morrow.

      24. To-day I dined six miles out of town at Will Pate’s, with Stratford, Frankland, and the Molesworths, [18b] and came home at night, and was weary and lazy. I can say no more now, but good-night.

      25. I was so lazy to-day that I dined at next door, [18c] and have sat at home since six, writing to the Bishop of Clogher, Dean Sterne, and Mr. Manley: the last, because I am in fear for him about his place, and have sent him my opinion, what I and his other friends here think he ought to do. I hope he will take it well. My advice was, to keep as much in favour as possible with Sir Thomas Frankland, his master here.

      26. Smoke how I widen the margin by lying in bed when I write. My bed lies on the wrong side for me, so that I am forced often to write when I am up. Manley, you must know, has had people putting in for his place already; and has been complained of for opening letters. Remember that last Sunday, September 24, 1710, was as hot as midsummer. This was written in the morning; it is now night, and Presto in bed. Here’s a clutter, I have gotten MD’s second letter, and I must answer it here. I gave the bill to Tooke, and so— Well, I dined to-day with Sir John Holland the Comptroller, and sat with him till eight; then came home, and sent my letters, and writ part of a lampoon, [18d] which goes on very slow: and now I am writing to saucy MD; no wonder, indeed, good boys must write to naughty girls. I have not seen your mother yet; my penny-post letter, I suppose, miscarried: I will write another. Mr. S— came to see me; and said M— was going to the country next morning with her husband (who I find is a surly brute); so I could only desire my service to her.

      27. To-day all our company dined at Will Frankland’s, with Steele and Addison too. This is the first rainy day since I came to town; I cannot afford to answer your letter yet. Morgan, [19a] the puppy, writ me a long letter, to desire I would recommend him for purse-bearer or secretary to the next Lord Chancellor that would come with the next Governor. I will not answer him; but beg you will say these words to his father Raymond, [19b] or anybody that will tell him: That Dr. Swift has received his letter; and would be very ready to serve him, but cannot do it in what he desires, because he has no sort of interest in the persons to be applied to. These words you may write, and let Joe, or Mr. Warburton, [19c] give them to him: a pox on him! However, it is by these sort of ways that fools get preferment. I must not end yet, because I cannot say good-night without losing a line, and then MD would scold; but now, good-night.

      28. I have the finest piece of Brazil tobacco for Dingley that ever was born. [19d] You talk of Leigh; why, he won’t be in Dublin these two months: he goes to the country, then returns to London, to see how the world goes here in Parliament. Good-night, sirrahs; no, no, not night; I writ this in the morning, and looking carelessly I thought it had been of last night. I dined to-day with Mrs. Barton [20a] alone at her lodgings; where she told me for certain, that Lady S— [20b] was with child when she was last in England, and pretended a tympany, and saw everybody; then disappeared for three weeks, her tympany was gone, and she looked like a ghost, etc. No wonder she married when she was so ill at containing. Connolly [20c] is out; and Mr. Roberts in his place, who loses a better here, but was formerly a Commissioner in Ireland. That employment cost Connolly three thousand pounds to Lord Wharton; so he has made one ill bargain in his life.

      29. I wish MD a merry Michaelmas. I dined with Mr. Addison, and Jervas the painter,