The Romance of Biography Volume II Part 18

During this extraordinary connection, Swift was accustomed to address her in verse. Some of these poems, though worthless as poetry, derive interest from the beauty of her character, and from that concentrated vigour of expression which was the characteristic of all he wrote; as in this descriptive pa.s.sage:--

Her hearers are amazed from whence Proceeds that fund of wit and sense, Which, though her modesty would shroud, Breaks like the sun behind a cloud; While gracefulness its art conceals, And yet through every motion steals.

Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind, And forming you, mistook your kind?

No; 'twas for you alone he stole The fire that forms a manly soul; Then, to complete it every way, He moulded it with female clay: To _that_ you owe the n.o.bler flame, To _this_ the beauty of your frame.

He compliments her sincerity and firmness of principle in four nervous lines:

Ten thousand oaths upon record Are not so sacred as her word!

The world shall in its atoms end, Ere Stella can deceive a friend!

Her tender attention to him in sickness and suffering, is thus described, with a tolerable insight into his own character.

To her I owe That I these pains can undergo; She tends me like an humble slave, And, when indecently I rave, When out my brutish pa.s.sions break, With gall in every word I speak, She, with soft speech, my anguish cheers, Or melts my pa.s.sions down with tears: Although 'tis easy to descry She wants a.s.sistance more than I, She seems to feel my pains alone, And is a Stoic to her own.

Where, among scholars, can you find So soft, and yet so firm a mind?

These lines, dated March, 1724, are the more remarkable, because they refer to a period when Stella had much to forgive;--when she had just been injured, in the tenderest point, by the man who owed to her tenderness and forbearance all the happiness that his savage temper allowed him to taste on earth.

As Stella pa.s.sed much of her time in solitude, she read a great deal.

She received Swift's friends, many of whom were clever and distinguished men, particularly Sheridan and Delany; and on his public days she dined as a guest at his table, where, says his biographer,[108] "the modesty of her manners, the sweetness of her disposition, and the brilliance of her wit, rendered her the general object of admiration to all who were so happy as to have a place in that enviable society."

Johnson says that, "if Swift's ideas of women were such as he generally exhibits, a very little sense in a lady would enrapture, and a very little virtue astonish him;" and thinks, therefore, that Stella's supremacy might be "only local and comparative;" but it is not the less true, that she was beheld with tenderness and admiration by all who approached her; and whether she could spell or not,[109] she could certainly write very pretty verses, considering whom she had chosen for her model:--for instance, the following little effusion, in reply to a compliment addressed to her:

If it be true, celestial powers, That you have formed me fair, And yet, in all my vainest hours, My mind has been my care; Then, in return, I beg this grace, As you were ever kind, What envious time takes from my face, Bestow upon my mind!

She had continued to live on in this strange undefinable state of dependance for fourteen years, "in pale contented sort of discontent,"

though her spirit was so borne down by the habitual awe in which he held her, that she never complained--when the suspicion that a younger and fairer rival had usurped the heart she possessed, if not the rights she coveted, added the tortures of jealousy to those of lingering suspense and mortified affection.

A new attachment had, in fact, almost entirely estranged Swift from her, and from his home. While in London, from 1710 to 1712, he was accustomed to visit at the house of Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and became so intimate, that during his attendance on the ministry at that time, he was accustomed to change his wig and gown, and drink his coffee there almost daily. Mrs.

Vanhomrigh had two daughters: the eldest, Esther, was destined to be the second victim of Swift's detestable selfishness, and become celebrated under the name of Vanessa.

She was of a character altogether different from that of Stella. Not quite so beautiful in person, but with all the freshness and vivacity of youth--(she was not twenty,) and adding to the advantages of polished manners and lively talents, a frank confiding temper, and a capacity for strong affections. She was rich, admired, happy, and diffusing happiness. Swift, as I have said, visited at the house of her mother.

His age, his celebrity, his character as a clergyman, gave him privileges of which he availed himself. He was pleased with Miss Vanhomrigh's talents, and undertook to direct her studies. She was ignorant of the ties which bound him to the unhappy Stella; and charmed by his powers of conversation, dazzled by his fame, won and flattered by his attentions, surrendered her heart and soul to him before she was aware; and her love partaking of the vivacity of her character, not only absorbed every other feeling, but, as she expressed it herself, "became blended with every atom of her frame."[110]

Swift, among his other lessons, took pains to impress her with his own favourite maxims (it had been well for both had he acted up to them himself)--"to speak the truth on all occasions, and at every hazard: and to do what seemed right in itself, without regard to the opinions or customs of the world." He appears also to have insinuated the idea, that the disparity of their age and fortune rendered him distrustful of his own powers of pleasing.[111] She was thus led on, by his open admiration, and her own frank temper, to betray the state of her affections, and proffered to him her hand and fortune. He had not sufficient humanity, honour, or courage, to disclose the truth of his situation, but replied to the avowal of this innocent and warm-hearted girl, first in a tone of raillery, and then by an equivocal offer of everlasting friends.h.i.+p.

The scene is thus given in Cadenus and Vanessa.

Vanessa, though by Pallas taught, By Love invulnerable thought, Searching in books for wisdom's aid, Was in the very search betrayed.

Cadenus many things had writ; Vanessa much esteemed his wit, And call'd for his poetic works.

Mean time the boy in secret lurks; And, while the book was in her hand The urchin from his private stand Took aim, and shot with all his strength A dart of such prodigious length, It pierced the feeble volume through, And deep transfix'd her bosom too.

Some lines, more moving than the rest, Stuck to the point that pierced her breast, And borne directly to the heart, With pains unknown, increas'd her smart.

Vanessa, not in years a score, Dreams of a gown of forty-four; Imaginary charms can find, In eyes with reading almost blind.

Cadenus now no more appears Declin'd in health, advanc'd in years; She fancies music in his tongue, Nor farther looks, but thinks him young.

Vanessa is then made to disclose her tenderness. The expressions and the sentiments are probably as true to the facts as was consistent with the rhyme: but how cold, how flat, how prosaic! no emotion falters in the lines--not a feeling blushes through them!--as if an ardent but delicate and gentle girl would ever have made a first avowal of pa.s.sion in this _chop-logic_ style--

"Now," said the Nymph, "to let you see My actions with your rules agree; That I can vulgar forms despise, And have no secrets to disguise; I knew, by what you said and writ, How dangerous things were men of wit; You caution'd me against their charms, But never gave me equal arms; Your lessons found the weakest part, Aimed at the head, but reach'd the heart!"

Cadenus felt within him rise Shame, disappointment, guilt, surprise, &c.

It is possible he might have felt thus; and yet the excess of his _surprise_ and _disappointment_ on the occasion, may be doubted. He makes, however, a very candid confession of his own vanity.

Cadenus, to his grief and shame, Could scarce oppose Vanessa's flame; And, though her arguments were strong, At least could hardly wish them wrong: Howe'er it came, he could not tell, But sure she never talked so well.

His pride began to interpose; Preferred before a crowd of beaux!

So bright a nymph to come unsought!

Such wonder by his merit wrought!

'Tis merit must with her prevail!

He never knew her judgment fail.

She noted all she ever read, And had a most discerning head!

The scene continues--he rallies her, and affects to think it all

Just what c.o.xcombs call a bite.

(such is his elegant phrase.) He then offers her friends.h.i.+p instead of love: the lady replies with very pertinent arguments; and finally, the tale is concluded in this ambiguous pa.s.sage, in which we must allow that great room is left for scandal, for doubt, and for curiosity.

But what success Vanessa met Is to the world a secret yet;-- Whether the nymph, to please her swain, Talks in a high romantic strain, Or whether he at last descends To act with less seraphic ends; Or to compound the business, whether They temper love and books together; Must never to mankind be told, Nor shall the conscious Muse unfold.

Such is the story of this celebrated poem. The pa.s.sion, the circ.u.mstances, the feelings are real, and it contains lines of great power; and yet, a.s.suredly, the perusal of it never conveyed one emotion to the reader's heart, except of indignation against the writer; not a spark of poetry, fancy, or pathos, breathes throughout. We have a dull mythological fable in which Venus and the Graces descend to clothe Vanessa in all the attractions of her s.e.x:--

The Graces next would act their part, And showed but little of their art; Their work was half already done, The child with native beauty shone; The outward form no help required;-- Each, breathing on her thrice, inspired That gentle, soft, engaging air, Which in old times advanced the fair.

And Pallas is tricked by the wiles of Venus into doing _her_ part.--The Queen of Learning

Mistakes Vanessa for a boy; Then sows within her tender mind Seeds long unknown to womankind, For manly bosoms chiefly fit,-- The seeds of knowledge, judgment, wit.

Her soul was suddenly endued With justice, truth, and fort.i.tude,-- With honour, which no breath can stain, Which malice must attack in vain; With open heart and bounteous hand, &c.

The nymph thus accomplished is feared by the men and hated by the women; and Swift has shown his utter want of heart and good taste, by making his homage to the woman he loved, a vehicle for the bitterest satire on the rest of her s.e.x. What right had he to accuse us of a universal preference for mere c.o.xcombs,--he who, through the sole power of his wit and intellect, had inspired with the most pa.s.sionate attachment two lovely women not half his own age? Be it remembered, that while Swift was playing the Abelard with such effect, he was in his forty-fifth year, and though

He moved and bowed, and talked with so much grace, Nor showed the parson in his gait or face,[112]

he was one of the ugliest men in existence,--of a bilious, saturnine complexion, and a most forbidding countenance.

The poem of Cadenus and Vanessa was written immediately on his return to Ireland and to Stella, (where he describes himself devoured by melancholy and regret,) and sent to Vanessa. Her pa.s.sion and her inexperience seem to have blinded her to what was humiliating to herself in this poem, and left her sensible only to the admiration it expressed, and the hopes it conveyed. She wrote him the most impa.s.sioned letters; and he replied in a style which, without committing himself, kept alive all her tenderness, and rivetted his influence over her.

Meanwhile, what became of Stella? Too quick-sighted not to perceive the difference in Swift's manner, pining under his neglect, and struck to the heart by jealousy, grief, and resentment, her health gave way. His pitiful resolve never to see her alone, precluded all complaint or explanation. The Mrs. Dingley who had been chosen for her companion, was merely calculated to save appearances;--respectable, indeed, in point of reputation, but selfish, narrow-minded and weak. Thus abandoned to sullen, silent sorrow, the unhappy Stella fell into an alarming state; and her destroyer was at length roused to some remorse, by the daily spectacle of the miserable wreck he had caused. He commissioned his friend Dr. Ashe, "to learn the secret cause of that dejection of spirits which had so visibly preyed on her health; and to know whether it was by any means in his power to remove it?" She replied, "that the peculiarity of her circ.u.mstances, and her singular connexion with Swift for so many years, had given great occasion for scandal; that she had learned to bear this patiently, hoping that all such reports would be effaced by marriage; but she now saw, with deep grief, that his behaviour was totally changed, and that a cold indifference had succeeded to the warmest professions of eternal affection. That the necessary consequences would be, an indelible stain fixed on her character, and the loss of her good name, which was dearer to her than life."[113]

Swift answered, that in order to satisfy Mrs. Johnson's scruples, and relieve her mind, he was ready to go through the mere ceremony of marriage with her, on two conditions;--first, that they should live separately exactly as they did before;--secondly, that it should be kept a profound secret from all the world.[114] To these conditions, however hard and humiliating, she was obliged to submit: and the ceremony was performed privately by Dr. Ashe, in 1716. This nominal marriage spared her at least some of the torments of jealousy, by rendering a union with her rival impossible.

Yet, within a year afterwards, we find this ill-fated rival, the yet more unhappy Vanessa,--more unhappy because endued by nature with quicker pa.s.sions, and far less fort.i.tude and patience,--following Swift to Ireland. She had a plausible pretext for this journey, being heiress to a considerable property at Celbridge, about twelve miles from Dublin, on which she came to reside with her sister;[115] but her real inducement was her unconquerable love for him. Nothing could be more _mal apropos_ to Swift than her arrival in Dublin: placed between two women, thus devoted to him, his perplexity was not greater than his heartless duplicity deserved: nothing could extricate him but the simple, but desperate expedient of disclosing the truth, and this he could not or would not do: regardless of the sacred ties which now bound him to Stella, he continued to correspond with Vanessa and to visit her; but "the whole course of this correspondence precludes the idea of a guilty intimacy."[116] _She_, whose pa.s.sion was as pure as it was violent and exclusive, asked but to be his wife. She would have flung down her fortune and herself at his feet, and bathed them with tears of grat.i.tude, if he would have deigned to lift her to his arms. In the midst of all the mortification, anguish, and heart-wearing suspense to which his stern temper and inexplicable conduct exposed her, still she clung to the hopes he had awakened, and which, either in cowardice, or compa.s.sion, or selfish egotism, he still kept alive. He concludes one of his letters with the following sentence in French, "mais soyez a.s.sure, que jamais personne au monde n'a t aime, honore, estime, adore, par votre amie, que vous:"[117] and there are other pa.s.sages to the same effect, little agreeing with his professions to poor Stella:--one or the other, or both, must have been grossly deceived.

After declarations so explicit, Vanessa naturally wondered that he proceeded no farther; it appears that he sometimes endeavoured to repress her over-flowing tenderness, by treating her with a harshness which drove her almost to frenzy. There is really nothing in the effusions of Helose or Mdlle. de l'Espina.s.se, that can exceed, in pathos and burning eloquence, some of her letters to him during this period of their connection.[118] When he had reduced her to the most shocking and pitiable state, so that her life or her reason were threatened, he would endeavour to soothe her in language which again revived her hopes--

Give the reed From storms a shelter,--give the drooping vine Something round which its tendrils may entwine,-- Give the parch'd flower the rain-drop,--and the meed Of Love's kind words to woman![119]