STELLA AND VANESSA.—While Swift’s mysterious associations with Stella and Vanessa have but little to do with the course of English Literature, they largely affect his personality, and no sketch of him would be complete without introducing them to the reader. We cannot conjure up the tall, burly form, the heavy-browed, scowling, contemptuous face, the sharp blue eye, and the bushy black hair of the dean, without seeing on one side and the other the two pale, meek-eyed, devoted women, who watch his every look, shrink from his sudden bursts of wrath, receive for their infatuation a few fair words without sentiment, and earnestly crave a little love as a return for their whole hearts. It is a wonderful, touching, baffling story.
Stella he had known and taught in her young maidenhood at Sir William Temple’s. As has been said, she was called the daughter of his steward and housekeeper, but conjectures are rife that she was Sir William’s own child. When Swift removed to Ireland, she came, at Swift’s request, with a matron friend, Mrs. Dingley, to live near him. Why he did not at once marry her, and why, at last, he married her secretly, in 1716, are questions over which curious readers have puzzled themselves in vain, and upon which, in default of evidence, some perhaps uncharitable conclusions have been reached. The story of their association may be found in the Journal to Stella.
With Miss Hester Vanhomrigh (Vanessa) he became acquainted in London, in 1712: he was also her instructor; and when with her he seems to have forgotten his allegiance to Stella. Cadenus, as he calls himself, was too tender and fond: Vanessa became infatuated; and when she heard of Swift’s private marriage with Stella, she died of chagrin or of a broken heart. She had cancelled the will which she had made in Swift’s favor, and left it in charge to her executors to publish their correspondence. Both sides of the history of this connection are fully displayed in the poem of Cadenus and Vanessa, and in the Correspondence of Swift and Vanessa.
CHARACTER AND DEATH.—Pride overbearing and uncontrollable, misanthropy, excessive dogmatism, a singular pleasure in giving others pain, were among his personal faults or misfortunes. He abused his companions and servants; he never forgave his sister for marrying a tradesman; he could attract with winning words and repel with furious invective; and he was always anxiously desiring the day of his death, and cursing that of his birth. His common farewell was “Good-bye; I hope we may never meet again.” There is a painful levity in his verses On the Death of Doctor Swift, in which he gives an epitome of his life:
From Dublin soon to London
spread,
’Tis told at court the
dean is dead!
And Lady Suffolk, in the spleen,
Runs laughing up to tell the
queen:
The queen, so gracious, mild,
and good,
Cries, “Is he gone?
it’s time he should.”