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so to Madam Williams's, where I overtook him, and agreed upon meeting this afternoon. To White Hall, to wait on the Duke of York, where he again, and all the company magnified me, and several in the Gallery: among others, my Lord Gerard, who never knew me before, nor spoke to me, desires his being better acquainted with me; and [said] that, at table where he was, he never heard so much said of any man as of me, in his whole life.
May 16th, 1668. Up; and to the Office, where we sat all the morning; and at noon, home with my people to dinner; and thence to the Office all the afternoon, till, my eyes weary, I did go forth by coach to the King's playhouse, and there saw the best part of "The Sea Voyage," where Knipp did her part of sorrow very well. I afterwards to her house; but she did not come presently home; and there I did kiss her maid, who is so mighty belle; and I to my tailor's, and to buy me a belt for my new suit against to-morrow; and so home, and there to my Office, and afterwards late walking in the garden; and so home to supper, and to bed, after Nell's cutting of my hair close, the weather being very hot.
April 30th, 1669. Up, and by coach to the coachmaker's: and there I do find a great many ladies sitting in the body of a coach that must be ended by to-morrow: they were my Lady Marquess of Winchester, Bellassis, and other great ladies, eating of bread and butter, and drinking ale. I to my coach, which is silvered over, but no varnish yet laid on, so I put it in a way of doing; and myself about other business, and particularly to see Sir W. Coventry, with whom I talked a good while to my great content; and so to other places - among others, to my tailor's and then to the beltmaker's, where my belt cost me 55s. of the colour of my new suit; and here, understanding that the mistress of the house, an oldish woman in a hat, hath some water good for the eyes, she did dress me, making my eyes smart most horribly, and did give me a little glass of it, which I will
1 A comedy, by Beaumont and Fletcher.
use, and hope it will do me good. So to the cutler's, and there did give Tom, who was with me all day, a sword cost me 12S. and a belt of my owne; and sent my own silver-hilt sword a-gilding against to-morrow. This morning I did visit Mr. Oldenburgh, and did see the instrument for perspective made by Dr. Wren, of which I have one making by Browne; and the sight of this do please me mightily. At noon my wife came to me at my tailor's, and I sent her home, and myself and Tom dined at Hercules Pillars; and so about our business again, and particularly to Lilly's, the varnisher, about my prints, whereof some of them are pasted upon the boards, and to my full content. Thence to the frame-maker's, one Norris, in Long Acre, who showed me several forms of frames, which were pretty, in little bits of mouldings, to choose patterns by. This done, I to my coachmaker's, and there vexed to see nothing yet done to my coach, at three in the afternoon; but I set it in doing, and stood by till eight at night, and saw the painter varnish it, which is pretty to see how every doing it over do make it more and more yellow and it dries as fast in the sun as it can be laid on almost; and most coaches are, now-a-days, done so, and it is very pretty when laid on well, and not too pale, as some are, even to show the silver. Here I did make the workmen drink, and saw my coach cleaned and oyled; and, staying among poor people there in the ally, did hear them call their fat child Punch, which pleased me mightily, that word being become a word of common use for all that is thick and short.1 At night home, and there find my wife hath been making herself clean against to-morrow; and, late as it was, I did send my coachman and horses to fetch home the coach to-night, and so we to supper, myself most weary with walking and standing so much, to see all things fine against to-morrow, and so to bed. Meeting with Mr. Sheres, to several places, and, among others, to buy a perriwig, but I bought none; and also to Dancre's, where he was about my picture of Windsor which is mighty pretty, and so will the prospect of Rome be.
"Puncheon, the vessel, Fr. poinçon, perhaps so called from the pointed form of the staves; the vessel bellying out in the middle, and tapering towards each end: and hence punch (i.e., the large belly) became applied, as Pepys records, to anything thick or short." RICHARDSON's Dictionary.
May 1st. Up betimes. Called by my tailor, and there first put on a summer suit this year; but it was not my fine one of flowered tabby vest, and coloured camelott tunique, because it was too fine with the gold lace at the bands, that I was afraid to be seen in it; but put on the stuff suit I made the last year, which is now repaired; and so did go to the Office in it, and sat all the morning, the day looking as if it would be fowle. At noon home to dinner, and there find my wife extraordinary fine, with her flowered tabby gown that she made two years ago, now laced exceeding pretty; and, indeed, was fine all over; and mighty earnest to go, though the day was very lowering; and she would have me put on my fine suit, which I did. And so anon we went alone through the town with our new liveries of serge, and the horses' manes and tails tied with red ribbons, and the standards gilt with varnish, and all clean, and green reines, that people did mightily look upon us; and, the truth is, I did not see any coach more pretty, though more gay, than our's, all the day. But we set out, out of humour - I because Betty, whom I expected, was not come to go with us; and my wife that I would sit on the same seat with her, which she likes not, being so fine: and she then expected to meet Sheres, which we did in the Pell Mell, and, against my will, I was forced to take him into the coach, but was sullen all day almost, and little complaisant: the day being unpleasing, though the Park full of coaches, but dusty, and windy, and cold, and now and then a little dribbling of rain; and, what made it worse, there were so many hackney-coaches as spoiled the sight of the gentlemen's; and so we had little pleasure. But here was W. Batelier and his sister in a borrowed coach by themselves, and I took them and we to the lodge; and at the door did give them a syllabub, and other things, cost me 12s., and pretty merry. And so back to the coaches, and there till the evening, and then home, leaving Mr. Sheres at St. James's Gate, where he took leave of us for altogether, he being this night to set out for Portsmouth post, in his way to Tangier, which troubled my wife mightily, who is mighty, though not, I think, too fond of him.
EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL TO STELLA
[From the Journal to Stella. Written 1710-1713; published in part 1766, 1768; complete 1784. Edited by G. A. Aitken, Methuen & Co., London,
SWIFT, JONATHAN (1667-1745), dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin, and satirist; cousin of Dryden and son of Jonathan Swift by Abigail (Erick) of Leicester; born at Dublin after his father's death; grandson of Thomas Swift, the well-known royalist vicar of Goodrich, who was descended from a Yorkshire family, a member of which, 'Cavaliero' Swifte, was created Baron Carlingford, 1627; educated at Kilkenny grammar school, where Congreve was a schoolfellow, and at Trinity College, Dublin, 1682; neglected his studies, showed an impatience of restraint, was publicly censured for offences against discipline, and only obtained his degree by the 'special grace'; attributed his recklessness himself to the neglect of his family, for whom he felt little regard; joined his mother at Leicester on the troubles which followed the expulsion of James II; admitted into the household of Sir William Temple, who had known his uncle Godwin, c. 1692, where he acted as his secretary; introduced to William III and sent by Temple to him, to convince him of the necessity for triennial parliaments, 1693; wrote pindarics, one being printed in the 'Athenian Mercury,' 1692, which, according to Dr. Johnson, provoked Dryden's remark, 'Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet'; chafed at his position of dependence, and was indignant at Temple's delay in procuring him preferment; left Temple's service, returned to Ireland, was ordained, 1694, and was given the small prebend of Kilroot; returned to Temple at Moor Park, 1696; read deeply, mostly classics and history, and edited Temple's correspondence; wrote (1697) 'The Battle of the Books,' which was published in 1704, together with 'The Tale of a Tub,' his famous and powerful satire of theological shams and pedantry; met 'Stella,' Esther Johnson [q. v.], who was an inmate of Temple's family at the time; went again to Ireland on the death of Temple, 1699; given a prebend in St. Patrick's, Dublin, and Laracor, with other livings; made frequent visits to Dublin and London; D.D. Dublin, 1701; wrote his 'Discourse on the Dissensions in Athens and Rome' with reference to the impeachment of the whig lords, 1701; in his visit to London, 1705 and 1707, became acquainted with Addison, Steele, Congreve, and Halifax; entrusted (1707) with a mission to obtain the grant of Queen Anne's bounty for Ireland; wrote some pamphlets on religious or church subjects; published 'Letter on the Sacramental Test,' 1708, an attack on the Irish presbyterians which, though anonymous, injured him with the whigs; in disgust at the whig alliance with dissent, ultimately went over to the tories on his next visit to England, 1710; attacked the whig ministers in pamphlets, in the 'Examiner,' November 1710 to June 1711, and wrote the 'Conduct of the Allies,' 1711; became dean of St. Patrick's, 1713; had already commenced the 'Journal to Stella,' had become intimate with the tory ministers, and had used his influence in helping young and impoverished authors, including Pope and Steele; returned to England, 1713, to reconcile Bolingbroke and Harley, but in vain;
wrote more pamphlets, notably 'The Public Spirit of the Whigs considered,' 1714, in reply to Steele's 'Crisis,' but at length gave up all for lost and retired to the country; left for Ireland, 1715, after the fall of the ministry and the death of Queen Anne; his marriage to Stella, an incident which still remains unproven, and also his final rupture with 'Vanessa' (Miss Vanhomrigh, whose acquaintance he had made in London), supposed to have taken place about this time; his rupture with Vanessa the cause of her death, before which she entrusted to her executors his poem 'Cader.us and Vanessa,' which relates the story of their love affair; though always contemptuous of the Irish, was led, by his personal antipathies to the whigs, to acquire a sense of their unfair dealings with Ireland; successfully prevented the introduction of 'Wood's Half-pence' into Ireland by his famous 'Drapier Letters,' 1724; came to England, 1726, visited Pope and Gay, and dined with Walpole, for whose behoof he afterwards wrote a letter complaining of the treatment of Ireland, which had, however, no effect on the minister; broke with Walpole in consequence; was introduced to Queen Caroline, but gained nothing by it; published 'Gulliver's Travels,' 1726; made his last visit to England, 1727, when the death of George I created for a moment hopes of dislodging Walpole; wrote some of his most famous tracts and some of his most characteristic poems during these last years in Ireland; kept up his correspondence with Bolingbroke, Pope, Gay, and Arbuthnot, and though remaining aloof from Dublin society, maintained good relations with Lord Carteret, the lord-lieutenant; attracted to himself a small circle of friends, and was adored by the people; set up a monument to Schomberg in the cathedral at his own expense, spent a third of his income on charities, and saved up another third to found a charitable institution at his death, St. Patrick's Hospital (opened, 1757); symptoms of the illness from which he appears to have suffered all his life very marked, c. 1738; buried by the side of Stella, in St. Patrick's, Dublin, his own famous inscription, 'ubi sæva indignatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit,' being inscribed on his tomb. Dr. Johnson, Macaulay, and Thackeray, among many other writers, were alienated by his ferocity, which was, however, the result of noble qualities soured by hard experience. His indignation at oppression and unfairness was genuine. His political writings are founded on common sense pure and simple, and he had no party bias. His works, with the exception of the letter upon the correction of the language, 1712, were all anonymous, and for only one, 'Gulliver's Travels,' did he receive any payment (2001.). A large number of publications appear to have been attributed to him by different editors without sufficient authority.—Index and Epitome of D. Ñ. B.
'Swift has left one monument, which he would not himself have recognized as of any literary value, but which the world, most assuredly, will never allow to die. This is the Journal to Stella: a continuous series of letters in which he depicts, for her who, in all his busy and bustling surroundings, ever occupied the place closest to his heart, the scenes in which he moved. Half the charm of the Journal lies in its absolute ease and unconsciousness of effort; in the humour alternately playful and sarcastic, in the pathos and the anger, in the fierce self-assertion which would not conceal itself, in the fidelity which made his genius the willing servant of smaller men who played the part of his patrons - in a word, in all those varying traits which reflect Swift's character so exactly, and which let us see him at once in his pride, and in his tenderness, in his power, and in his weakness. We see him as the