After dwelling on his poverty, &c., he says, conditionally, “I shall be blessed to have you in my arms, without regarding whether your person be beautiful, or your fortune large. Cleanliness in the first, and competency in the second, is all I ask for!”
The editors do not tell us what became of Varina in life. One would be glad to know that she met with some worthy partner, and lived long enough to see her little boys laughing over Lilliput, without any arrière pensée of a sad character about the great Dean!
A sentimental Champollion might find a good deal of matter for his art, in expounding the symbols of the “Little Language”. Usually, Stella is “M.D.,” but sometimes her companion, Mrs. Dingley, is included in it. Swift is “Presto”; also P.D.F.R. We have “Goodnight, M.D.; Night, M.D.; Little M.D.; Stellakins; Pretty Stella; Dear, roguish, impudent, pretty M.D.!” Every now and then he breaks into rhyme, as—
I wish you both a merry new year,
Roast beef, minced-pies, and good strong beer, And me a share of your good cheer.
That I was there, as you were here,
And you are a little saucy dear.
The following passages are from a paper begun by Swift on the evening of the day of her death, Jan. 28, 1727-8:
“She was sickly from her childhood, until about the age of fifteen; but then she grew into perfect health, and was looked upon as one of the most beautiful, graceful, and agreeable young women in London—only a little too fat. Her hair was blacker than a raven, and every feature of her face in perfection.
“... Properly speaking”—he goes on with a calmness which, under the circumstances, is terrible—“she has been dying six months!...”
“Never was any of her sex born with better gifts of the mind, or who more improved them by reading and conversation.... All of us who had the happiness of her friendship agreed unanimously, that in an afternoon's or evening's conversation she never failed before we parted of delivering the best thing that was said in the company. Some of us have written down several of her sayings, or what the French call bons mots, wherein she excelled beyond belief.”
The specimens on record, however, in the Dean's paper called Bons Mots de Stella, scarcely bear out this last part of the panegyric. But the following prove her wit:
“A gentleman, who had been very silly and pert in her company, at last began to grieve at remembering the loss of a child lately dead. A bishop sitting by comforted him—that he should be easy, because ‘the child was gone to heaven’. ‘No, my lord,’ said she; ‘that is it which most grieves him, because he is sure never to see his child there.’