peerage in claiming which his grandfather had ruined himself. Mr. Jervas was Charles Jervas the painter, known also as the translator of Don Quixote, to whom Pope addressed an epistle. He painted a portrait of Swift in London, and another in Ireland. Gay described him as "robust and debonair." "Kneller remarked on hearing that he had set up a carriage and four horses: Ah, mine Cot, if his horses do not draw better than he does he will never get to his journey's end.' XXII. DUBLIN. Novr. 11th 1721. SR, I received yours yesterday. I writ to M' Jervas from the Country, but have yet received no answer, nor do find that any one of his Friends hath yet heard from him, so that some of them are in a good deal of pain to know where he is, and whether he be alive. I intend however to write a second time, but I thought it was needless to trouble you till I could say something to the Purpose. But indeed I have had a much better or rather a much worse Excuse, having been almost three weeks pursued with a Noise in my Ears and Deafness that makes me an unsociable Creature, hating to see others, or be seen by my best Friends, and wholly confined to my Chamber-I have been often troubled with it but never so long as now, which wholly disconcerts and confounds me to a degree that I can neither think nor speak nor Act as I used to do, nor mind the least Business even of my own, which is an Apology I should be glad to be without. I am ever Yr &c. J. S. NOTE ON XXII. The deafness of which Swift complains in this letter grew worse and worse, till at last it cut him off from all society. Five years before his death he wrote to his cousin: "I have been very miserable all night, and to-day extremely deaf and full of pain. I am so stupid and confounded that I cannot express the mortification I am under both in body and mind. All I can say is, that I am not in torture; but I daily and hourly expect it. Pray let me know how your health is and your family. I hardly understand one word I write. I am sure my days will be very few; few and miserable they must be. "I am, for those days, yours entirely, "If I do not blunder, it is Saturday, July 26, 1740. "If I live till Monday I shall hope to see you, perhaps for the last time." XXIII. DUBLIN. Decembr 5th 1721. SR,-When I received your French Letter I was going to write you an English one. I forsook the World and French at the same time, and have nothing to do with the Latter further than sometimes reading or gabbling with the French clergy who come to me about business of their Church car je parle à peindre, mais pour l'ecrire je n'en songe guere depuis que j'ay quitté le politique. I am but just recovered of my Deafness which put me out of all Temper with my self and the rest of Mankind. My Health is not worth a Rush nor consequently the Remaining Part of my Life. I just now hear that D' Prat Dean of Down, my old Acquaintance is dead, and I must here break off to go to his Relations. -9. The poor Dean dyed on Tuesday, and was buried yesterday, he was one of the oldest Acquaintance I had, and the last that I expected to dy. He has left a young Widow, in very good Circumstances. He had Scheems of long life, hiring a Town-house, and building a Countrey, preparing great Equipages and Furniture. What a ridiculous Thing is Man— I am this moment inevitably stoppt this moment [sic] by company, and cannot send my Letter till next Post. |