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They will not let Stella go gay； because of sentiment； and they will
not let Mrs。 Dingley go gay； because of sentiment for Stella。 Marry
come up！ Why did not the historians assign all the tender passages
（taken very seriously） to Stella； and let Dingley have the jokes；
then？ That would have been no ill share for Dingley。 But no；
forsooth； Dingley is allowed nothing。
There are passages； nevertheless； which can hardly be taken from
her。 For now and then Swift parts his dear MD。 When he does so he
invariably drops those initials and writes 〃Stella〃 or 〃Ppt〃 for the
one； and 〃D〃 or 〃Dingley〃 for the other。 There is no exception to
this anywhere。 He is anxious about Stella's 〃little eyes；〃 and
about her health generally； whereas Dingley is strong。 Poor Ppt； he
thinks； will not catch the 〃new fever；〃 because she is not well；
〃but why should D escape it； pray？〃 And Mrs。 Dingley is rebuked for
her tale of a journey from Dublin to Wexford。 〃I doubt； Madam
Dingley； you are apt to lie in your travels； though not so bad as
Stella； she tells thumpers。〃 Stella is often reproved for her
spelling； and Mrs。 Dingley writes much the better hand。 But she is
a puzzle…headed woman； like another。 〃What do you mean by my fourth
letter； Madam Dinglibus？ Does not Stella say you had my fifth；
goody Blunder？〃 〃Now； Mistress Dingley； are you not an impudent
slut to except a letter next packet？ Unreasonable baggage！ No；
little Dingley； I am always in bed by twelve； and I take great care
of myself。〃 〃You are a pretending slut； indeed； with your ‘fourth'
and ‘fifth' in the margin； and your ‘journal' and everything。 O
Lord； never saw the like； we shall never have done。〃 〃I never saw
such a letter； so saucy； so journalish； so everything。〃 Swift is
insistently grateful for their inquiries for his health。 He pauses
seriously to thank them in the midst of his prattle。 Both women
MDare rallied on their politics： 〃I have a fancy that Ppt is a
Tory； I fancy she looks like one； and D a sort of trimmer。〃
But it is for Dingley separately that Swift endured a wild bird in
his lodgings。 His man Patrick had got one to take over to her in
Ireland。 〃He keeps it in a closet； where it makes a terrible
litter； but I say nothing； I am as tame as a clout。〃
Forgotten Dingley； happy in this； has not had to endure the
ignominy； in a hundred essays； to be retrospectively offered to
Swift as an unclaimed wife； so far so good。 But two hundred years
is long for her to have gone stripped of so radiant a glory as is
hers by right。 〃Better； thanks to MD's prayers；〃 wrote the immortal
man who loved her； in a private fragment of a journal； never meant
for Dingley's eyes； nor for Ppt's； nor for any human eyes； and the
rogue Stella has for two centuries stolen all the credit of those
prayers； and all the thanks of that pious benediction。
SOLITUDE
The wild man is alone at will； and so is the man for whom
civilization has been kind。 But there are the multitudes to whom
civilization has given little but its reaction； its rebound； its
chips； its refuse； its shavings； sawdust and waste； its failures； to
them solitude is a right foregone or a luxury unattained； a right
foregone； we may name it； in the case of the nearly savage； and a
luxury unattained in the case of the nearly refined。 These has the
movement of the world thronged together into some blind by…way。
Their share in the enormous solitude which is the common； unbounded；
and virtually illimitable possession of all mankind has lapsed；
unclaimed。 They do not know it is theirs。 Of many of their
kingdoms they are ignorant； but of this most ignorant。 They have
not guessed that they own for every man a space inviolate； a place
of unhidden liberty and of no obscure enfranchisement。 They do not
claim even the solitude of closed corners； the narrow privacy of the
lock and key； nor could they command so much。 For the solitude that
has a sky and a horizon they know not how to wish。
It lies in a perpetual distance。 England has leagues thereof；
landscapes； verge beyond verge； a thousand thousand places in the
woods； and on uplifted hills。 Or rather； solitudes are not to be
measured by miles； they are to be numbered by days。 They are
freshly and freely the dominion of every man for the day of his
possession。 There is loneliness for innumerable solitaries。 As
many days as there are in all the ages； so many solitudes are there
for men。 This is the open house of the earth； no one is refused。
Nor is the space shortened or the silence marred because； one by
one； men in multitudes have been alone there before。 Solitude is
separate experience。 Nay； solitudes are not to be numbered by days；
but by men themselves。 Every man of the living and every man of the
dead might have had his 〃privacy of light。〃
It needs no park。 It is to be found in the merest working country；
and a thicket may be as secret as a forest。 It is not so difficult
to get for a time out of sight and earshot。 Even if your solitude
be enclosed； it is still an open solitude； so there be 〃no cloister
for the eyes；〃 and a space of far country or a cloud in the sky be
privy to your hiding…place。 But the best solitude does not hide at
all。
This the people who have drifted together into the streets live
whole lives and never know。 Do they suffer from their deprivation
of even the solitude of the hiding…place？ There are many who never
have a whole hour alone。 They live in reluctant or indifferent
companionship； as people may in a boarding…house； by paradoxical
choice； familiar with one another and not intimate。 They live under
careless observation and subject to a vagabond curiosity。 Theirs is
the involuntary and perhaps the unconscious loss which is futile and
barren。
One knows the men； and the many women； who have sacrificed all their
solitude to the perpetual society of the school； the cloister； or
the hospital ward。 They walk without secrecy； candid； simple；
visible； without moods； unchangeable； in a constant communication
and practice of action and speech。 Theirs assuredly is no barren or
futile loss； and they have a conviction； and they bestow the
conviction； of solitude deferred。
Who has painted solitude so that the solitary seemed to stand alone
and inaccessible？ There is the loneliness of the shepherdess in
many a drawing of J。F。 Millet。 The little figure is away； aloof。
The girl stands so when the painter is gone。 She waits so on the
sun for the closing of the hours of pasture。 Millet has her as she
looks； out of sight。
Now； although solitude is a prepared； secured； defended； elaborate
possession of the rich； they too deny themselves the natural
solitude of a woman with a child。 A newly…born child is so nursed
and talked about； handled and jolted and carried about by aliens；
and there is so much importunate service going forward； that a woman
is ha