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SWIFT 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF HIS LIFE AND LOVE 
 
By THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 JOHNSON: 
 
 HIS CHARACTERISTICS AND APHORISMS. 
 
 Spectator. 
 
 Review, 
 
 Extracts from Presa Notices. 
 . An interesting and judicious life. . . ." — The Times. 
 , This book is a sound piece of work. . . ." — T&e 
 
 , We welcome this book. . . ." — The Academy, 
 , Good in substance. ... ." -^The Contemporary 
 
 " . . . . An excellent short biography. . . ." — TAe West- 
 minster Sevieev- ■- ii.i . iL •.','; i ', , J 
 
 ". . . . We thank our author and are grateful to him. . . ." 
 — The Whitehall Review. 
 
 ". . . . Full of interest and entertainment. . . ." — The 
 Scottish Review. 
 
 " Who that is familiar with the writings of Boswell and 
 Hawkins, of Dr. George Birkbeck Hill and the Reverend 
 James Hay, of Lord Macaulay and Mr. Leslie Stephen, 
 can have forgotten their vivid descriptions of Dr. Johnson's 
 undergraduate career at Pembroke College, Oxford ? " — 
 From a Leading Article of The Daily Telegraph. 
 
 "The Minister of Kirn has, in modest way, rendered 
 no slight service to the memory of Samuel Johnson and to 
 English Literature. . . ." — The Scotsman. 
 
 ". . . Particularly interesting. . . ." — The Glasgow 
 Herald. 
 
SWIFT 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF HIS LIFE AND LOVE 
 
 JAMES HAY, 
 
 MINISTER OF THE PARISH OF KIRN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "JOHNSON'S CHARACTERISTICS/' 
 
 Etc. 
 
 ' Hated by fools, and fools to hate, 
 Be this my motto and my fate.'" 
 
 Swift. 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 
 
 Limited. 
 
 1891. 
 
 [All rights reserved. '\ 
 ® 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 No life in the whole range of literature is so difficult 
 to unravel as that of Jonathan Swift, nor has any 
 man been more unfortunate in his interpreters. 
 Indeed, it may be truthfully said of him that he is^ 
 the best abused and most maligned in the literary 
 world. 
 
 Some of his biographers have been revilers, like 
 Lord Orrery; others have been prejudiced, like 
 Johnson; some have been incapable, like Hawkesi 
 worth ; others have been dull, like Sheridan ; some 
 have been inaccurate, like Sir Walter Scott, for 
 want of time ; and others have been absurd, like 
 Deane Swift, Esq., for want of judgment; while 
 others have been malignant, like Winder, and have 
 tried to blacken his character, who were not fit to 
 blacken his shoes. 
 
 Regarding his three principal biographers of 
 last century — Orrery, Johnson, and Sheridan — it 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 is related of Lord Orrery, Swift's first biographer, 
 that, when examining the Dean's papers, he found 
 a letter, written by himself to Swift years before, 
 unopened. 
 
 Whether this circumstance influenced him against 
 Swift we cannot tell ; we only know that he flattered 
 the old man when living, and maligned him when 
 dead. 
 
 As to Johnson, his next biographer, it is notorious 
 that he had a strong prejudice against j Swift, .which 
 he repeatedly showed both at the. club and at the 
 dinner-table. On one occasion Boswell said to him : 
 "Sir, can you account fpr your antipathy! to, Swift?" 
 Johnson replied : " No, sir, I cannot." We wonder 
 whether Swift's neglect to answer J ohnsoin's petition, 
 in : his Grub , Street days, which he' sept to the 
 great Dean through Lord Gower, to procure an 
 Irish _degree, could have anything to do with his 
 prejudice. Anyhow, prejudice he had which utterly 
 disqualified, him, acute and , intellectual though he 
 was, for being a fair interpreter ofj the life of 
 Swift. 
 
 Sheridan, the next of his chief biographers, must 
 not be identified with the famous Dr. Sheridan, 
 the lifelong friend and companion of Swift. A 
 biography from him would have been priceless. It 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 is the work of his son Tom, an actor, who under- 
 stood comedy better than the writing of biography 
 — the man of whom Johnson said : " Sir, Sherry 
 is dull — naturally dull ; but it must have taken him 
 a great deal of pains to become what we now see 
 him. Such an excess of stupidity, sir, is not in 
 nature." 
 
 As to our present century biographers, there 
 is Dr. Wild, who, from a medical point of view, 
 has written a deeply interesting analysis of the 
 latter part of Swift's life, when his intellect was 
 clouded. In recent days, we have an able mono- 
 graph from the pen of Mr. Leslie Stephen, which 
 fixes, admirably and for ever. Swift's place in 
 literature. 
 
 We have also the first instalment of a life of 
 Swift by Mr. Forster, which promised to be a great 
 work, when death cut the author down. 
 
 We have next an able and scholarly life of Swift 
 from the pen of Dr. Craik. But these two latter 
 biographies are so multitudinous in detail, and philo- 
 sophic in thought, that they are better adapted to 
 the special student of Swift than to the general 
 reader in this age of pressure. 
 
 We have also brilliant, but malignant, essays on 
 Swift by Jeffrey and Macaulay; but their political 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 partisanship has made their judgment of him unjust. 
 They have given us their picture of Swift — would 
 that it were possible for us to have Swift's picture 
 of them ! Indeed, it might have been said of them, 
 by anticipation, before they began to write on him : 
 
 " Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 
 And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him." 
 
 Well was it for these Whig lords, when they 
 maligned Swift, that he was gone. 
 
 We have next an eloquent but superficial chapter 
 on Swift by Taine. Finally, we have a slight, but 
 fascinating lecture-room performance on Swift by 
 Thackeray, which has now deservedly become cheap 
 railway literature. 
 
 Doubtless there are some men whom to abuse 
 is pleasant, and for a lecturer profitable. Swift is 
 one of these. Yet the lecture-room is hardly the 
 place for biography, and especially the biography 
 of such a man as Swift ; and one might be 
 pardoned for doubting whether such a life can be 
 satisfactorily deciphered even by Mr. Thackeray, 
 with all his ability and acuteness, in a lecture of 
 one hour's duration. 
 
 In these circumstances, I have ventured to 
 give a sketch of Swift from my own standpoint. 
 
PREFACE. ix 
 
 I have endeavoured to unravel the mystery of his 
 life and love. I have endeavoured to rescue his 
 great name from going'-de5^h;;^^e:jLges branded with 
 eternal^ infamy, at the bidding of three illustrious 
 literary lords, who, unhappily for the cause of truth 
 and justice, have gained the world's ear. 
 
 Whether I have succeeded in my endeavours, 
 I leave to the British jury of public opinion to 
 decide. 
 
 Kirn, 
 
 1st January, 1891. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SWIFT : THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 
 
 His birth and parentage — His youth and early training— 
 His first experience in life — His college days — His 
 return home — Visits Sir William Temple^Cordial re- 
 ception — His course of study — Becomes Sir William's 
 secretary — His return to Ireland — His flight from 
 Ireland — Macaulay's description of him not true — 
 Companionship with King William — Pleasant 
 memories of Moor Park — Swift's career at Oxford 
 University — Returns to be Temple's confidant — 
 Leaves Moor Park for Ireland to take holy orders — 
 Appointment to Kilroot — Unsympathetic, parishioners 
 — Begins to make books and love — His disgust with 
 the people — Resigns the living at Kilroot — Returns 
 to Moor Park — Swift visits the King as Temple's 
 substitute — Writes "The Battle of the Books" — 
 Temple's death — Swift's grief — Leaves Moor Park for 
 London — Writes the famous resolutions for old age — 
 Has expectations of a prebend from the King — His 
 betrayal by the Earl of Romney — Swift now famous 
 as a scholar and author— Goes to Ireland as Secre- 
 tary of State, and chaplain to Lord Berkeley — Is 
 offered a deanery conditionally— His scornful rejec- 
 tion— " Meditation. Readings on a Broomstick "—An 
 inveterate punster— A great favourite of the Castle 
 ladies— Appointed to the rectory of Laracor— Strange 
 introduction of himself to the curate — His clerical 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 life regular and exemplary — Gives himself more to 
 literature than parochial visiting — Reconstructs his 
 church and vicarage — Purchases glebe lands — Fre- 
 quently visits Dublin Castle — Receives the degree of 
 D.D. — Leaves with the Berkeley family for London 
 — Visits Stella — Has an interview with the King — His 
 first appearance at St. James's Coffee House— Visits 
 his mother at Leicester — Returns to his Irish rectory 
 —"Tale of a Tub "published 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 SVi'IFT : THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 His first appearance in the arena of politics — Power of his 
 first political pamphlet — Swift discovered to be the 
 author — Invited by the Ministry to write on their be- 
 half — Takes high ground with them — His political 
 attitude — A High Church Whig — Anomalous position 
 — His next political pamphlet — Its drift — Sacramental 
 test — His bitter scorn of Presbyterians and Catholics 
 —Covert attack upon the Whigs — Pamphlet left to 
 simmer with the Queen .and the nation — Swift the 
 greatest power of the age — Elected by the Irish 
 bishops to manage the first-fruits business with the 
 Government — His mother dies — Leaves Ireland for 
 England — He breaks with the Whigs — Whigs turned 
 out of office — Invited to join the Tory ranks — The 
 conditions of his alliance — Admitted to Cabinet 
 dinners — His mastership of them — Journal description 
 of the political situation — The first-fruits business 
 settled through his influence — Ingratitude of the Irish 
 clergy — Swift declines to preach before the Queen — 
 He rebukes the Ministry for their internal quarrels — 
 Uses his influence with them in Addison's behalf — 
 The Premier sends him a bank-note — Swift's indigna- 
 tion — The Premier apologises — Swift is reconciled— 
 His strict economy — Refuses to dine with the Secre- 
 tary of State if he dine late — The Ministry call him 
 Jonathan — The first great work which the Ministry 
 give him to do — To be a bishop the dream of his life 
 — He quells the famous October Club — The Queen is 
 
CONTENTS. xiii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 governed not by the Ministry but by back-stair in- 
 fluence and intrigue — Swift their governor — The 
 Premier assassinated — The business of the nation on 
 his hands — Harley's recovery- — Swift rebukes the 
 Premier and St. John — Stops the war — Recalls Marl- 
 borough — Description of Swift's power by Bishop 
 Burnet — Swift's political dictatorship — Holds a high 
 place in the list of European statesmen — Presented to 
 the deanery of St. Patrick — His installation — Is re- 
 called by the Ministry to settle their quarrels — Retires 
 to Berkshire in disgust— Government overthrown— 
 Bolingbroke Premier for three days — Implores Swift 
 to come to his help — Queen Anrie dying — A perilous 
 time for the nation — Revolution averted — The Privy 
 Council meet — ^Bolingbroke Premier ousted — Shrews- 
 bury appointed Premier — Active measures of the new 
 Ministry — Queen dies — Political storm — Harleydriven 
 to the Tower, Bolingbroke to France, and Swift to 
 his Irish deanery — Estimate of Swift as a politician 
 — Macaulay, Jeffrey, and Thackeray criticised — Swift 
 assigned a high place as a politician .... 48 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SWIFT : THE LOVER. 
 
 The parson of Kilroot in love with Varina — Thrilling 
 episode of his life with Stella and Vanessa — His 
 amours mixed with_tra ditional rubbi sh-and^apocryphal 
 gossip — Believed in the_intellei:tual -capabilities and 
 rights of women — Swift first meets Stella in Sir 
 William Temple's — -Becomes her tutor and playfellow 
 — Invites her and her chaperon to live in Ireland — 
 Hester Vanhomrigh, afterward "Vanessa" — The sec ret 
 key to his relation jdth_tlies&-ladigs — ExaniinatioiT of 
 mythical^stgjiea-regardtftg-Swtft^-Tftamage to Stella 
 — Question as to the fatherhood of Stella and Swift 
 himself — Extract from leading article in Gentleman's 
 Magazine in 1757 — Evidence that Swift was never 
 married to Stella nor to any one else — Vanessa's love 
 for Swift— He treats it as a jest^He offers her friend- 
 ship, not love — She accepts — Soon breaks the con- 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 ditions of intercourse by violent love — He philanders 
 — Forbids her going to Ireland — Go she would, and 
 go she does — He visits her there as seldom as possible 
 — She writes him violent love-letters ; he replies calmly 
 — Tries to divert her love — ^Introduces her to a digni- 
 tary of the Church who offers her marriage-^ She 
 refuses him— Still clings to Swift with unreasonable 
 tenacity — Pesters him with passionate, injudicious 
 love-letters — He wishes to retain her as a friend — ^She 
 wishes to obtain him as her husband — In 17 19, to 
 appease her, he adds to his friendship affection, but 
 not desire, not marriage : his affection must still be 
 platonic — Vanessa would not abide by this high ideal' 
 — She wants himself — The warmth of her letters — 
 Swift suspicious — Rides to her residence it Marley 
 Abbey — Abruptly leaves — Never sees her more— 
 Macaulay and Jeffrey charges against Swift proved 
 apocryphal 120 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SWIFT : THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 
 
 Swift mingles in Royal and aristocratic circles — His con- 
 nection traced with yet more illustrious companions : 
 Addison, Steele, Cpi\gireye, Gay, and Pope . .170 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 SWIFT : THE HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Definition of humorist — Illustrations of Swift's humour — 
 His Bickerstaff prediction — The dying speech of 
 EUiston — The Apothecaries' petition — "The Grand 
 Question Debated" 222 
 
 APHORISMS. 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SWIFT : THE NATIONALIST. 
 
 Swift's arrival in Ireland — His reception — Accused of try- 
 ing to bring in the Pretender — Other enemies than 
 political — Anxious as to the fate of his political friends 
 — Falsely accused of irreverence — His belief in the 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 PAOt 
 
 cardinal doctrines of Christianity— His interest in the 
 Cathedral choir — Facts and phases of the political 
 world from 1714 to 1720 — Begins to correct the in- 
 ternal evils of Ireland— A born leader of men — ^Ironi- - 
 cally proposes a National Swearers' Bank^ — Champions 
 Irish nationality — Writes the famous Drapier's-Letters 
 ^—Government copper scheme blasted— ^His inteirview 
 with the Viceroy — Sti^ange scene — Champions the I,rishj 
 tenantry and the Irish Church— Irish tenantry and 
 Church deeply indebted to Swift^Visits Sheridan 
 at Quilca — Urgent request to visit England — Goes to 
 Twickenham, 1726 — Dines with Walpole, the Premier 
 — Is offered promotion on terms which he rejects — 
 Negotiates with Pulteney — Visits frequently . the 
 Princess of Wales — SeTious illness of Stella — Returns 
 to Dublin — Ovation on arrival — "Gulliver" published 
 — Description of voyage to Brobdingftag borrowed 
 from Sturmy — ^^Keeps brisk correspondence with his' 
 Court and literary friends in England — Presents the 
 Princess ' with a • fehawl ^^iReturns -to 'England^— 
 George L dies — Walpole overthrown — 'Swift kisses 
 the hands of 'the new King and > Queen on their acces- 
 sion — Is, particularly distinguished by Her Majesty 
 — Spencer Compton's ephemeral premiership — iWal- 
 pole reinstated — Swift's abrupt departure from 
 Twickenham — His stay at Holyhead on his way to 
 Ireland — Watching at' the death-bed of Stella — 
 Regeneration of Ireland by force of conviction, not 
 by force of arins— Swift^s ' d'escf iption ' of Ireland's' 
 agricultural distress — Gives cheap leases of his own 
 glebe lands — Walpole's supremacy confirmed — Ire- 
 land's fate sealed — Swift's retiral from political life . 253, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SWIFT : THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 
 
 More appalling than anything in romance — Stella's death 
 — Swift receives news of it when entertaining a dinner 
 party in the Deanery— Reflections on her death — 
 Leads the life of a recluse — His gloom of melancholy 
 — The secrets of Swift's life — Poem on his own death 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 — Declines to accept the title of Patriot — His troubles 
 have a comic as well as a tragic side — Illustrations of 
 these— Enrages King George and the Court of St. 
 James' — The Corporation of Dublin present him with 
 the freedom of the City in a gold box — Three forged 
 letters sent to the Queen in Swift's name — Satiris,es 
 the Court at St. James's, which they mistake for a 
 compliment — Threatened by Walpole with arrest- 
 ment for libel — His old friend Barber becomes 
 Lord Mayor of London — Swift patronises the un- 
 deserving — Episode with Bettesworth — Bolingbroke 
 retires to the South of France : correspondence with 
 him interrupted — Writes tremendous description of 
 the Day of Judgment — Publishes treatise on the art 
 of polite conversation — Writes comical satire entitled 
 " Directions to Servants " — Anecdotes of his kindness 
 to them — 1737, receives the freedom of the City of 
 Cork — Amusing incident — His last public speech — 
 Swift sinking into the vale of years — Death making 
 havoc among his old friends — Ireland indebted to 
 Swift — Gloom of melancholy settling on him — Last 
 letter — His last epigram — Swift's intellect entirely 
 clouded — His mental derangement— rHis death and 
 burial 314 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 SWIFT : ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER .... 350 
 
SWIFT: 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF HIS LIFE AND LOVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SWIFT : THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 
 
 In the cathedral city of Dubh'n, on St. Andrew's 
 Day, 1667, was Jonathan Swift introduced into this 
 worldj seven months after his reputed father's death. 
 Biographers have taken the trouble to trace his 
 descent through many , generations. This I deem 
 a work of supererogation. I am perfectly satisfied 
 that this ancient Swift family begat one another 
 in due order, and in swift succession ; but whether 
 this included our hero Jonathan is just a little un- 
 certain. A cloud of mystery surrounds his infancy. 
 The child, when a year old, was surreptitiously taken 
 by his nurse, and, at midnight, conveyed on board 
 ship to Whitehaven. At this place he continued 
 three years ,- for, curiously, when the matter was 
 discovered, his mother sent orders not to hazard a 
 return voyage till he should be better able to bear 
 it, A strange story, indeed, interwoven with deep 
 mystery ! A poor mother not nursing her own child, 
 and allowing him to be surreptitiously taken and 
 
 B 
 
2 SWIFT. 
 
 retained for three years by the woman who stole him, 
 lest having borne one voyage well he might not be 
 able to bear a second — a reason which it must be 
 confessed is frivolous enough. 
 
 At the age of six, Swift was sent to the school of 
 Kilkenny, called, and justly called, the Eton of 
 Ireland, since it produced Swift, the greatest satirist, 
 Congreve, the greatest dramatist, and Berkeley, the 
 greatest metaphysician of the centuries in which they 
 lived. Doubtless, this place, with its surroundings 
 and associations, must have impressed mightily the 
 mind of the acute and wondering boy; Kilkenny, 
 with its separate corporations, and jurisdictions, and 
 religionists dwelling apart, with its dividing streams, 
 across which Catholic and Protestant used to threaten 
 and glare defiance at each other, inaugurating the 
 famous fable of the Kilkenny cats. Amid such 
 scenes the mind of young Swift received the moral 
 twist which made him, in after life, so bitter, 
 sarcastic, and dogmatic. 
 
 Doubtless, the author of "Gulliver" must have 
 been a remarkable boy ; but, unfortunately, only two 
 anecdotes of his school days have been preserved. 
 "1 remember," said he, "when I was a little boy, 
 I felt a great fish at the end of my line, which I 
 drew up almost on the ground, but it dropped in, 
 and the disappointment vexes me to this very day ; 
 and I believe it Was the type of all my future 
 disappointments." 
 
 He recalls another reminiscence, when gently 
 rebuking and helping a young clergyman who 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 3 
 
 married imprudently, without money and without 
 health : " When I was a schoolboy at Kilkenny, and 
 in the lower form, I longed very much to have a 
 horse of my own to ride on. One day I saw a poor 
 man leading a very mangy, lean horse out of the 
 town to kill him for the skin. I asked the man if 
 he would sell him, which he readily consented to, 
 upon my offering him eighteen pence, somewhat 
 more than the price of the hide, which was all the 
 money I had in the world. I immediately got on 
 him, to the great envy of some of my schoolfellows, 
 and to the ridicule of others, and rode him about 
 the town. The horse soon tired and lay down. 
 As I had no stable to put him into, nor any money 
 to pay for his sustenance, I began to find out what 
 a foolish bargain I had made, and cried heartily 
 for the loss of my cash; but the horse dying soon 
 after on the spot gave me some relief." Indeed, 
 we might apply characteristically to young Swift's 
 school career the words which, in after life, he applied 
 sarcastically to the school days of a gallant captain : 
 
 My schoolmaster called me a dunce and a fool, 
 But at cuffs I was always the cock of the school ; 
 I never could take to my book for the life o' me, 
 And the puppy confessed he expected no good o' me. 
 
 Young Swift's first experience in Jife was that 
 of a dependent on the charity of his relations. 
 Imagine the effects of this on a spirit such as his. 
 It is on record, so embarrassed had his father's 
 affairs become that the widow had not, for the 
 moment, the wherewithal to defray the expense of 
 
 B 2 
 
4 SWIFT. 
 
 his burial. By the pecuniary help of his uncle 
 Godwin, Swift passed from the school of Kilkenny 
 to the University of Dublin in 1682. This uncle 
 Swift never liked, from a mistaken notion that he 
 was rich and penurious. It was not so. His 
 apparently prosperous uncle was the victim of un- 
 fortunate speculations, and, like many of the present 
 day, preferred the reproach of avarice to the acknow- 
 ledgment of the humiliating truth. This uncle was 
 once the subject of a trenchant conversation. An 
 Archdeacon, at a Diocesan dinner, asked Swift in 
 a loud voice across the table : " Sir, did not your 
 uncle educate you .' " " Yes," said Swift, " he 
 educated me like a dog." Swift undoubtedly was 
 too severe in speaking thus againstfhis uncle, who 
 latterly was weak in intellect and light in purse — 
 he had married four times. J Perhaps after all it 
 was better that young Swift was not encumbered 
 with too much help. 
 
 Regarding his College days and his powers as a 
 student — dull was the appellation which he applied to 
 himself. His ideal of scholarship and intellectuality 
 was very high, "dull and laborious" being the 
 characteristics which he unjustly applied to Bentl'ey. 
 It is well known that Swift was a severe student 
 in his own desultory way, but not according to 
 academic rule. 
 
 It has been said that he failed in Dublin to take 
 his B.A., and when he went up for his final exajnina- 
 tion to take his certificate, he received it only specicUi 
 gratia. 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. s 
 
 M. Taine has drawn a highly imaginative picture 
 of this scene. He has painted Swift as the odd and 
 awkward scholar^ with hard blue eyes, who barely 
 gets his degree by special grace, while the professors 
 who examine him go away with pitying smiles 
 lamenting the feeble brain of Jonathan Swift — an idea 
 ■which generations of readers have laughed to scorn. 
 
 " I remember," says another of his biographers, 
 "that I had some conversation with him on these 
 matters. I told him that he certainly must have 
 been idle in those days; but he assured me to the 
 contrary. ' I will tell you,' said he, ' the best jest of 
 it all was, when I produced my testimonial at Oxford, 
 in order to be admitted ad eundem, they mistook 
 speciali gratia for some particular strain of compli- 
 ment which I had received from the University of 
 Dublin, on account of my superior merit, and I leave 
 you to guess whether it was my business to undeceive 
 them.' And to this mistake he attributed most of 
 the civilities he received at Oxford." 
 
 These stories of his University career are non- 
 sense. Happily the old class-roll of the College has 
 been discovered in a book which belonged to Malone, 
 found recently on the shelf of an old book-shop in 
 London, which accurately fixes his position at the 
 University. 
 
 In a roll of 175 Swift's name was thirteenth, 
 and is thus adjudged : " 111 in Philosophy, good in 
 Latin and Greek, and negligent in Theology," which 
 delivers him from the sweeping and unjust judgment 
 of many of his biographers. 
 
6 SWIFT. 
 
 Had Swift taken his place at College as a great 
 scholar, which by a little attention he could easily 
 have done, the Swift of the world might have been 
 lost in a University monk. 
 
 It is sad to note that during the greater part of 
 his curriculum he was miserably poor, and much 
 indebted to his cousin Willoughby, a rich Lisbon 
 merchant, son of William Swift, whom Jonathan 
 characterised as the best of his relatives. Swift, in 
 his great days, used to relate with glee an incident 
 which happened during his College curriculum. 
 
 One day, sitting penniless, gazing from his 
 chamber window, he saw in the College quadrangle 
 a master mariner, evidently inquiring for a student. 
 " Lord," thought he, " if that person should now be 
 inquiring and staring about for my chamber in order 
 to bring me some present from cousin Willoughby 
 Swift, what a happy creature should I be ! " In 
 a few seconds, in true sailor style, like the Oxonians 
 amongst themselves, which is to knock and then 
 come in, unless forbidden, the stranger entered, and, 
 without uttering a word, poured a leathern sackful of 
 silver coin at the young student's feet. Swift, in his 
 ecstasy, insisted that the bearer should take part of 
 the treasure as a reward for his trouble ; but, no ! 
 with the noble generosity which distinguishes the 
 British sailor, he refused to take a gift from one 
 poorer than himself. " No, no, master," said he, 
 "I'se take nothing for my trouble. I would do 
 more than that comes to for Mr. Willoughby Swift," 
 whereupon Jonathan gathered up the money as fast 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 7 
 
 as he could, and thrust it into his pocket, " for by the 
 Lord Harry," said he, " I was afraid, if the money 
 had lain much longer, he might have repented his 
 generosity and taken a good part of it." Experience, 
 says Carlyle, is an excellent school ; but the fees are 
 high. The lesson Swift learned from poverty was 
 one which the strong only can learn. You cannot 
 get out of debt by borrowing, but by rigid economy, 
 which can alone ensure independence. From that 
 hour young Swift solemnly resolved to manage his 
 slender income so as never again to know the 
 bitterness of poverty. So rigid an economist did 
 he become, that from that day, until the time when 
 his intellect became clouded, he could account for 
 every penny of his expenditure. 
 
 The College career of Swift had much in common 
 with that of Johnson. Both were poor yet haughty 
 in spirit ; both were melancholy and fretful ; both 
 rebelled against academic rule ; both were indifferent 
 students, yet intellectually the greatest of their respec- 
 tive Colleges. Doubtless their poverty had much to 
 do with their frolicsomeness, their recklessness, and 
 their rebelliousness against College discipline. At 
 dinner one evening said Boswell to Johnson : 
 
 "Sir, at Oxford you were considered as a gay 
 and frolicsome fellow." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! " said Johnson, " I was mad and 
 violent. It was bitterness that they mistook for 
 frolic. I was miserably poor, and I thought to 
 fight my way by my literature and my wit, so I 
 disregarded all power and all authority." 
 
8 SWIFT. 
 
 Even such a rebel was Swift under similar cir- 
 cumstances; not only in College days, but in all days, 
 they had much in common. Both had a hard 
 struggle to get the wherewithal to live. The one 
 harnessed to Sir William Temple, the other to 
 Bookseller Osborne and Printer Cave. Both were 
 morbid; indeed, partially insane. Both were the 
 very essence of generosity and goodness. Both were 
 deeply religious. Both were keenly sarcastic. Both 
 were dogmatical in the street, at the club, and at the 
 dinner-table. Both were dictators — the one the 
 political dictator of England, the other the intellectual 
 dictator of the British nation. 
 
 In the year i688. Swift returned from Ireland to 
 Leicester, the home of his mother — a mother who, 
 by her early rising and her simple dress, by her 
 needle and her reading, and her happy, contented 
 spirit, dignified that home of poverty upon a pension 
 of twenty pounds a year. 
 
 At this acute crisis of his career he was twenty- 
 one years of age, and without a future plan of life. 
 The poor mother could not assist him either in the 
 way of money or advice, but said : 
 
 "Go, my son, in God's name, to Sir William 
 Temple, and he will advise you what to do." 
 
 Strange, is it not, that this poor widow, living 
 on the charity of friends, should presume to send 
 her son to take counsel of such a man — a politician 
 whose ambassadorial exploits had made a part of 
 the history of Europe ? A polished courtier, a man 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 9 
 
 of literature, the associate of kings, and confidant of 
 his sovereign ; yet a cynic, who shrank from the 
 insincerity of courts, and the turmoil and strife of 
 politics, to his quiet library, his beautiful garden, 
 and his luxurious dinner-table — such was Temple. 
 
 We can almost fancy that we see this raw, 
 inexperienced youth — yet destined to be " the future 
 Swift of the world" — with his proud spirit and 
 rebellious will, reluctantly taking on foot that weary 
 journey to Sheen to lay his case before Temple. 
 Sir William received him cheerfully, and treated 
 him kindly, examined into his classical and philo- 
 sophical attainments, and prescribed for him a 
 course of eight hours' study a day, to which Swift 
 applied himself with great assiduity. He remained 
 in the Temple family two years, when, as he says 
 himself, he returned to Ireland by the advice of 
 physicians, who weakly imagined that " his native 
 air might be of some use to recover his health." I 
 suspect that young Swift returned to Ireland not 
 so much expecting to obtain health as a fellowship 
 in the University of Dublin, through the influence 
 of Sir Robert Southwell, who that year went to 
 Ireland as Secretary of State, and to whom Swift 
 was recommended by Sir William Temple, in the 
 following interesting letter which has recently been 
 discovered ; 
 
 Moor Park, near Farnham. 
 May 7.0th, 1690. 
 This afternoon I hear, though by a common hand, that 
 you are going over into Ireland, Secretary of State for that 
 kingdom. I venture to make you the offer of a servant, in case 
 
lo SWIFT. 
 
 you may have occasion for such a one as this bearer. He has 
 Latin and Greek, some French, writes a very good and current 
 hand, is very honest, and diligent, and has good friends, though 
 they have for the present lost their fortunes in Ireland. ... It 
 you please to accept him into your service, either as a gentleman 
 to wait on you, or as a clerk to write under you ; and either to 
 use him so ; if you like his service ; or upon any establishment 
 of the College, to recommend him to a fellowship there, which 
 he has a just pretence to, I shall acknowledge it as a great 
 obligation to me as well as to him. 
 
 Little did Sir William think that the bearer of 
 this letter, for he does not even name him, with his 
 " good and current hand," was destined to outlive in 
 fame himself and all the Secretaries and Lord- 
 Lieutenants of Ireland. 
 
 One regrets that neither this letter nor the Irish 
 air did Swift any manner of good. The one failed 
 to secure for him a fellowship, and the other to 
 procure health. 
 
 Accordingly he takes his flight from Ireland, 
 and returns once more to the Temple family about 
 Christmas, 1690, doubtless with strange reflections. 
 This year, Ireland had made a desperate struggle 
 for independence, at the Battle of the Boyne. This 
 year, young Swift had made a desperate struggle for 
 his own independence. Both had failed, miserably 
 failed. Yet Swift is destined one day — not by the 
 sword, but by the pen — to secure independence for 
 himself and for Ireland too. 
 
 Of Swift's second residence at Moor Park, Lord 
 Macaulay thus writes : " An eccentric, uncouth, dis- 
 agreeable young Irishman, who had narrowly escaped 
 plucking at Dublin, attended Sir William as an 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. ii 
 
 amanuensis, for board and twenty pounds a year, 
 dined at the second table, wrote bad verses in 
 praise of his employer, and made love to a very 
 pretty, dark-eyed young girl who waited on Lady 
 Gifford. Little did Temple imagine that the coarse 
 exterior of his dependent concealed a genius equally 
 suited to politics and to letters, a genius destined to 
 shake great kingdoms, to stir the laughter and the 
 rage of millions, and to leave to posterity memorials 
 which can perish only with the English language. 
 
 "Little did he think that the flirtation in his 
 servants' hall, which he, perhaps, scarcely deigned 
 to make the subject of a jest, was the beginning of 
 a long, unprosperous love, which was to be as widely 
 famed as the passion of Petrarch or of Abelard. 
 
 " Sir William's secretary was Jonathan Swift. 
 Lady Gifford's waiting-maid was poor Stella."* 
 These are eloquent words, but they are not true and 
 righteous words. I have consulted every acknow- 
 ledged source of information to discover Macaulay's 
 warrant for using them, and I can find no better 
 authority for the first sentences than John Temple, 
 nephew of Sir William, Swift's implacable foe, with 
 whom, through life, he had been at bitter enmity. 
 Was it fair of Macaulay to take such an authority ? 
 There is absolutely no proof that Swift sat at the 
 second or servants' table ; even John Temple does 
 not say it. He only says that Swift was not allowed 
 by Sir William to sit down at table with him. 
 
 Macaulay characterises him also as being eccentric 
 * Macaulay's " Essay on Sir William Temple." 
 
12 SWIFT. 
 
 and in love. It may be true that he was in love, 
 although we have our doubts as to that ; but if he 
 was in love at this time, certainly it was not with 
 Stella, nor is there the slightest proof that he was 
 eccentric. At this time his eccentricity was not 
 developed. How Macaulay could say so, we cannot 
 divine, unless, indeed, to a grave bachelor it might 
 seem eccentricity "that an uncouth, disagreeable 
 young Irishman should make love to a very pretty, 
 dark-eyed young girl." Again, he was " uncouth," 
 writes Macaulay. There is no evidence that Swift 
 was uncouth or coarse in appearance. The portrait 
 of him, painted by Jervas, proves the contrary. It is 
 true that there is no perfect standard either of 
 beauty or of taste, and Macaulay was so transcen- 
 dently attractive himself, that his ideal would be 
 high ; but we contend that at no time in Swift's life 
 could it be truthfully said that he was uncouth. On 
 the contrary, he was interesting and attractive to all 
 who came into contact with him, especially to ladies 
 — indeed, magnetically so. 
 
 He was also " disagreeable," says Macaulay, 
 Doubtless he had the power of making himself very 
 disagreeable when he pleased ; but in the absence of 
 proof to the contrary, we contend that it is highly 
 improbable that Swift made himself disagreeable in 
 the very house where, as Macaulay says, he was 
 making love. Another accusation of Macaulay is 
 that Swift was a writer of bad poetry. A very likely 
 thing indeed. But surely this was a thing for 
 Macaulay to lament, but not to censure. 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 13 
 
 Regarding Stella, it is not true what Macaulay 
 says, "that she was the waiting-maid on Lady 
 Gifford, Sir William's sister.'' There is no proof 
 that she waited on any one but herself ; she did no 
 such menial work. Her features, her dress, her 
 education, her acknowledged position in the family 
 and in society, confirmed the fact that she was the 
 natural daughter of Sir William Temple. 
 
 Swift was little Stella's first companion in play 
 and her first companion in study. He was the first 
 to guide her little hand in writing, and the first 
 to guide her little mind in thinking. How well he 
 performed his self-imposed task the world now 
 knows. To Stella, Swift writes : " I met Mr. Harley 
 in the Court of Requests, and he asked me how long 
 I had learnt the trick of writing to myself. He had 
 seen your letter through the glass case at the coffee- 
 house, and would swear it was my hand. I think 
 I was little M. D.'s writing-master." Inexpressibly 
 sorry am I that Macaulay, in his great history, should 
 give a recapitulation of the misstatements which he 
 had unwittingly made against Swift in his Temple 
 Essay — that he was an humble menial, etc. There 
 is absolutely no proof of this, at least during the 
 period of his residence at Moor Park, 
 
 Macaulay could not refer to his first residence 
 with Temple at Sheen, for he accuses Swift of 
 making love to the little waiting-maid, as he calls 
 her, who was at that time only a baby girl of six, 
 and Swift a young man of two-and-twenty. Could 
 anything be more absurd ? Therefore Macaulay's 
 
14 SWIFT. 
 
 eloquent and graphic description must refer to Swift's 
 second residence with the Temple family at Moor 
 Park. If so, he is equally in error. During this 
 residence he was the companion of Temple. When 
 Sir William was under the paroxysm of gout which 
 his sister called " spleen," he entertained his aristo- 
 cratic and Royal guests. Swift used to walk with 
 King William in the garden, when the King graciously 
 showed him how to prepare asparagus for the table 
 in the Dutch style. Struck by the physical rather 
 than the mental endowments of the robust young 
 Irishman, he offered him a captaincy in the Dragoons, 
 which when Swift refused. King William, to mark 
 his high appreciation of him, promised him a prebend 
 in Westminster. Again, to mark the high estimation 
 in which Temple held Swift at this time, he sent him 
 to London to argue King William into the granting 
 of Triennial Parliaments. This is the man whom 
 Macaulay would have us believe sat at the servants' 
 table. 
 
 Macaulay's next statement is that this humble 
 student, as he calls him, would not have dared to 
 raise his eyes to a lady of family ; but that when he 
 had become a clergyman, he began, after the fashion 
 of clergymen of that generation, to make love to 
 a pretty waiting-maid, who was the chief ornament 
 of the "servants' hall." With all due deference to 
 Lord Macaulay, we venture to say that these words 
 are not merely a scurrilous libel on. Swift, but on all 
 the clergy of Queen Anne's reign. 
 
 No man knew better than Macaulay, that the 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 15 
 
 young man of whom he thus speaks so contemp- 
 tuously had sketched the greatest satire the world 
 has known, and that his political writings were des- 
 tined to break up Governments and make all Europe 
 tremble. Yet this is the man, forsooth, who can- 
 not dare to raise his eyes to a lady of family. 
 "Nothing beyond a pretty waiting-maid." I also 
 deem it absurd to connect Swift's miseries with his 
 residence at Moor Park. Macaulay says : " His 
 spirit had been bowed down, and might seem to have 
 been broken by calamities and humiliations. ... A 
 sharp word or a cold look of the master sufficed to 
 make the servant miserable during several days." 
 If these words are true, servants of the seventeenth 
 century were very different from servants of the 
 nineteenth century ; but we venture to think that 
 there is as little foundation in fact for this, as for 
 the rest of his statement connecting Temple's house 
 with Swift's greatest misery. This view was never 
 taken by himself. The nearest approach to it is in 
 his statement to St. John the day after a dinner- 
 party, at which Swift thought the host melancholy 
 and abstracted. Two days after he went to Secretary 
 St. John, and asked "what the devil ailed him on 
 Sunday last ? " And from a letter which he sent to 
 Stella, we are informed of his having addressed him 
 in these words : " Never to appear cold to me, for I 
 would not be treated like a schoolboy; that I had 
 felt too much of that in my life already " (mea,ning 
 Sir William Temple), "that I expected every great 
 minister who honoured me with his acquaintance, if 
 
1 6 SWIFT. 
 
 he heard or saw anything to my disadvantage, would 
 let me know in plain words, and not put me in pain 
 to guess by the change or coldness of his countenance 
 or behaviour; for it was what I could hardly bear 
 from a crowned head, and I thought no subject's 
 favour was worth it." To which he added the next 
 day : " I think what I said to Mr. Secretary was 
 right. Don't you remember how I used to be in 
 pain when Sir William Temple would look cold and 
 out of humour for two or three days, and I used 
 to suspect a hundred reasons .' I have plucked up 
 my spirit since then. Faith ! he spoiled a fine 
 gentleman," This last sentence contains a bit of 
 Swift's humour, which Macaulay has interpreted 
 literally. His fondest associations were connected 
 with Moor Park. He ever retained the most pleas- 
 ing memories of his stay in the Temple family. He 
 repeatedly visited the house after Sir William's 
 death. 
 
 He also made his garden at Laracor on a small 
 scale an exact copy of the one at Moor Park. This 
 we think a significant fact. In 1706, he writes to 
 young Temple : " I am extremely obliged by your 
 kind invitation to Moor Park, which no time will 
 make me forget or love less." 
 
 A generation after, he writes to the same Lord 
 Temple, now Lord Palmerston, regarding the Moor 
 Park elms, on which, as he tells him, he had carved 
 a Latin verse commending its shades to Temple's 
 descendants. 
 
 Swift's position here was less menial than Macau- 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 17 
 
 lay has represented. He was a gentleman filling the 
 post of private secretary. 
 
 In 1692, Swift was sent by Sir William Temple 
 to Oxford to take an M.A. degree, which he did in 
 the July of that year. 
 
 The Universityreceived him graciously and treated 
 him kindly. Swift himself says that he was almost 
 ashamed of the civilities he received there. Mr, 
 Leslie Stephen ascribes these civilities to Temple's 
 recommendation. This biographer has, I suspect, 
 been misled in this opinion by Lord Orrery, who says 
 that Temple most generously stepped in to Swift's 
 assistance in the matter of his Oxford Mastership of 
 Arts. 
 
 I am rather inclined, however, to ascribe these 
 Oxford civilities to Swift's scholarship and genius, 
 and not to Sir William Temple's influence. At 
 Oxford the power of rank counts for little, the power 
 of wealth for less ; the power of scholarship, intellect, 
 and genius, everything. 
 
 This, we presume, is the secret why Oxford's 
 greatest sons carry with them through life pleasing 
 memories of their Alma Mater. It was so with 
 Dryden, who writes : 
 
 Oxford to him a dearer name shall be, 
 Than his own mother university. 
 Thebes did his green unknowing youth engage, 
 H6 chooses Athens in his riper age. 
 
 It was so with Johnson. Despite the ridiculing 
 by the Christ Church men of his ragged shoes, Johnson 
 retained through life the most rapturous fondness for 
 
 c 
 
1 8 SWIFT. 
 
 Oxford. To its library he left all his books, and to 
 its endowments he would have gifted his house at 
 Lichfield, had he not been prudently reminded that 
 he had poor relations. So was it with Swift. He 
 seems at Oxford to have been inspired with the 
 genius of the place. It was here in the sacred places 
 of the Muses that his poetic power had birth. His 
 first poetical effort was a version or paraphrase of 
 Horace, Book H., Ode i8. This plumed his wings for 
 a more ambitious flight. His next attempt at odes 
 was after the manner of Pindar. "A fashionable 
 exercise at that time," says Johnson; "all the boys 
 and girls caught the pleasing fancy, and they who 
 could do nothing else, could write like Pindar." In 
 this absurd attempt Swift overestimates his poetic 
 powers. He sent his manuscript with these odes to 
 his cousin Dryden, who returned them with these 
 sententious words : " Cousin Swift, you will never 
 be a poet." Swift was indignant, nor need we 
 wonder, as this criticism was not quite just. He 
 burned the manuscript, but he never forgave his 
 cousin. 
 
 Dryden somewhere says : 
 
 Poets should ne'er be drones, mean harmless things, 
 But guard, like bees, their labour by their stings. 
 
 Dryden, by bitter experience, realised how well 
 Swift had learned these lines, and how cleverly he 
 could apply them even to him. 
 
 From Oxford, Swift went to Leicester to pay a 
 visit to his mother, after which he again returned 
 to the Temple family. Swift, although treated by 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 19 
 
 Temple with every consideration, began now to 
 long, naturally enough, for independence and a 
 larger sphere. Swift's spirit was an ambitious 
 one. He began to realise the consciousness of 
 power. He longed to get away; where, and to 
 what, he did not exactly know. But Swift had 
 become a necessity to Temple — "Jonathan was as 
 David's right hand." He revised, corrected, and 
 arranged Sir William's works for publication, and 
 fought his literary battles against Wotton and 
 Bentley; indeed, all that survives of that learned 
 discussion, or is ever read, is Swift's inimitable 
 satire in defence of Temple, "The Battle of the 
 Books." 
 
 Sir William, in a subtle way, tried gently to 
 wean Swift from going. He knew that Swift had 
 religious scruples to enter the Church simply as a 
 means of livelihood. 
 
 Accordingly, Temple offered him an appointment 
 in Dublin, with one hundred pounds a year, as Clerk 
 of Rolls; a sinecure which Sir William held, well 
 knowing that Swift would not accept. He judged 
 rightly; Swift refused it — his acute mind seeing 
 through this pretended kindness. He declined 
 it, but in a way which Temple did not anticipate. 
 " Now," said Jonathan, " since this kind offer of 
 yours puts me in a position of not being driven 
 into the Church for a living, I shall now proceed 
 to Dublin and take orders." Temple, stunned with 
 this decision, accused Swift of ingratitude, and Swift 
 accused Sir William of selfishness. So the twa^ 
 
 c 2 
 
20 SWIFT. 
 
 parted, not perhaps in anger, but with mutual dis- 
 pleasure. Accordingly Swift, like another prodigal, 
 gathered his all and took his journey, not "into 
 a far," but into an Irish country — Dublin, where 
 a fresh difficulty awaited him. 
 
 When he went up to present himself for orders, 
 the Church dignitaries refused to ordain him until 
 he presented a certificate from Sir William Temple, 
 as to how he had conducted himself during these 
 seven intervening years since he left the University 
 of Dublin. 
 
 After waiting five months there was nothing for 
 it but to write, which he did reluctantly, to Sir 
 William for a testimonial. This letter, which Lord 
 Macaulay characterises as the " language of a lackey, 
 or rather of a beggar," Lady Gifford, with whom Swift 
 quarrelled and called an " old beast," allowed to be 
 transcribed and endorsed as Swift's penitential letter. 
 There is a suspicion about this letter. Why did 
 Lady Giiford bundle up and endorse the transcribed 
 letter and not the original one ? Why has the 
 original letter never been seen ? Be this as it may. 
 Lord Macaulay might have spared his sneer. He 
 must have known that Swift had done as much for 
 the name and fame of Temple as Temple ever did 
 for him. Whether the proud spirit of Swift on this 
 occasion stooped to conquer I know not; but this 
 I know, that conquer he did. Instantly Sir William 
 sent the necessary document for Swift's admission 
 to holy orders, which he received on the twenty- 
 eighth day of October, in his twenty-eighth year. 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 21 
 
 Sir Walter Scott is under the impression that with 
 the testimonial Temple had sent some kind of recom- 
 mendation in behalf of Swift to Lord Capel, who 
 was then Lord Deputy of Ireland, as immediately- 
 after ordination Swift was presented to the prebend 
 of Kilroot, near Belfast, worth a hundred per annum. 
 I should have thought so too, had the living not been 
 so small and Temple's influence with Capel so great. 
 It is just possible, however, that it was the best in 
 the gift of the Lord Deputy at the moment ; so, 
 after all, Sir Walter Scott's surmise may be the 
 correct one. 
 
 He was ordained at Kilroot in 1695. He did 
 not understand the parishioners, nor did they him. 
 During his brief incumbency here his little church 
 was miserably empty. He went under the appellation 
 of the mad clergyman. His leisure was great, his 
 duties small. He seems to have employed his time 
 pretty much in making books, and in making love, 
 and skipping stones into the sea. He seems, how- 
 ever, to have been more successful in literature than 
 love. 
 
 A young lady to whom he had given his affections 
 refused to reciprocate them. Accordingly he re- 
 solved instantly to leave Ireland, and never see her 
 more. Next day, on the road, he met a curate, an 
 old Oxford College chum, married, with a large 
 family, having empty barrels and quivers full — " pass- 
 ing rich on forty pounds a year " — from whom Swift 
 borrowed his black mare, and riding to Lord Capel 
 as fast as the beast could carry him, resigned his 
 
22 • SWIFT. 
 
 living to this friend, Wender. It is related that the 
 happiest moment in the life of Swift was the in- 
 describable look of gratitude which he received from 
 the poor curate when he placed the presentation 
 to the living in his hand, and informed him that 
 he had resigned it in his favour. 
 
 The story may be apocryphal, and I give it only 
 on the authority of Sir Walter Scott, the great master 
 of fiction. This at least is certain, that Wender was 
 appointed to the living through the influence of 
 Swift. 
 
 Accordingly he left Kilroot for London, mounted 
 on the black mare, the curate's gift, which he accepted 
 not to hurt the sensibility of a generous heart under 
 obligations, carrying with him in his pocket four- 
 score pounds, and in his heart a lingering love of 
 Varina, and a bitter hatred of Presbyterians. But 
 even now malevolence, " atra cura," is on Swift's track, 
 travelling faster than his black mare. The tongue of 
 scandal is now busy propagating the reason why he 
 resigned his living. It was not, said the enemy, 
 out of benevolence to his curate friend ; not because 
 he preferred the polished society of the Temple family 
 to the boorish society of Kilroot ; not because he 
 desired to get away from the presence and memory 
 of Varina, who would not reciprocate his love ; but to 
 get away from a criminal prosecution. This crazy 
 story, which has been proved over and over again 
 to be a baseless slander — an untruth taken from the 
 very well of untruth, and which we decline to pollute 
 our pages by recording — has been related ad nauseam 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 23 
 
 by one biographer after another from Swift's day 
 to our own. Strange to say, the propagator of this 
 vile slander, after retractation of it, died a raving 
 madman in the very asylum which Swift's generosity 
 founded for lunatics. 
 
 In the year 1695, we find Swift settled for the 
 third time in the Temple family. 
 
 During his incumbency at Kilroot, Sir William, to 
 whom Swift had become a necessity, kept plying 
 him with invitations to return, with which Swift at 
 last complied. On his return to Moor Park to be 
 Sir William's secretary and confidant, he found 
 Stella now a beauty of fifteen, destined to have her 
 name for ever associated with his own. He thus 
 describes her : " She was looked upon as one of the 
 most beautiful, and graceful, 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 . . . never was any of her sex born 
 with better gifts of the mind or who more improved 
 them by reading and conversation." This is the 
 identical young lady to whom Macaulay in his 
 " History " refers, with what taste we shall leave 
 our readers to judge, as the pretty waiting-maid, 
 to whom Swift made love. 
 
 Swift became again Sir William's private secre- 
 tary and confidential adviser. The King had the 
 most implicit confidence in the advice and experience 
 of his friend Temple, and often consulted him in 
 political difficulties. On one occasion, in a political 
 
24 SWIFT. 
 
 crisis, the King desired his advice and presence in 
 London. 
 
 Temple, being confined with gout, which his 
 sister called "spleen," could not obey the Royal 
 summons, but sent Swift to argue the King into 
 the granting of Triennial Parliaments. The task 
 was difficult and delicate. Swift had to watch the 
 humour of the King; but how well he performed 
 his part, although the mission failed, history tells. 
 Swift declared that his failure to convince the King 
 was the first thing that cured his vanity. One may 
 guess from this the confidence in himself with which 
 the young scholar had stepped into the closet of the 
 King. High honour this for Macaulay's — " servant !" 
 
 Swift remained at Moor Park enjoying refined 
 society and learned leisure until the death of Temple. 
 
 During Temple's illness Swift watched over him 
 with pious care to the end, and thus concludes his 
 journal : '' He died at one o'clock this morning, 27th 
 January, 1699, and with him all that was good and 
 great." This opinion of Temple Swift never changed. 
 The death of Temple closed Swift's quietest and 
 happiest time. Temple left Swift a legacy of money 
 and his literary works, which he edited and dedicated 
 to the King. Swift received from these works about 
 two hundred pounds ; a larger sum, indeed, than he 
 ever received from his own, which had filled the 
 world with his fame. 
 
 Temple is now dead, and henceforth Swift must 
 fight the battle of life alone. Indeed, he had ex- 
 pectations from the King's promise of a prebend 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 25 
 
 to him when King William was a guest of Temple ; 
 but alas ! Swift learned by bitter personal experience 
 not to put his trust in princes. He entrusted his 
 reminder to the King to the hands of the Earl of 
 Romney, who betrayed him, and to whom Swift 
 gave an unenviable immortality in his autobiography 
 as the vicious, illiterate old rake. 
 
 Swift is now in the prime of life, well known in 
 literary and aristocratic circles, and with a reputation 
 as a scholar and author is quite independent of even 
 Royal patronage. In this year, 1699, he wrote the 
 famous resolutions for old age, entitled : 
 
 WHEN I COME TO BE OLD. 
 
 Not to marry a young woman. 
 
 Not to keep young company unless they really desire it. 
 
 Not to be peevish, or morose, or suspicious. 
 
 Not to scorn present ways, or wits, or fashions, or men, or 
 ■war, etc. 
 
 Not to be fond of children, or let them come near me hardly. - 
 
 Not to tell the same story over and over to the same people.-^ 
 
 Not to be covetous. 
 
 Not to neglect decency and cleanliness, for fear of falling 
 into nastiness. 
 
 Not to be over severe with young people, but give allowance 
 for their youthful follies and weaknesses. 
 
 Not to be influenced by, or give ear to, knavish or tattling 
 servants, or others. 
 
 Not to be too free of advice, nor trouble any but those that 
 
 desire it. 
 
 To desire some good friends to inform me which of these 
 resolutions I break or neglect, and wherein : and reform ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 Not to talk much, nor of myself. 
 
 Not to boast of my former beauty, or strength, or favour 
 with ladies, etc. 
 
26 SWIFT. 
 
 Not to hearken to flatteries, nor conceive I can be belored 
 by a young wonian ; et eos qui hseveditatem captant odisse at 
 vitare. 
 
 Not to be positive or opinionative. 
 
 Not to set up for observing all these rules, for fear I should 
 observe none. i 
 
 Two of these strange resolutions touched the 
 mystery of his life. " Resolution first. Not to 
 marry a young woman." 
 
 This may be interpreted by the sentence in his 
 last love-letter to Varina : " Only remember that if 
 you still refuse to be mine, you will quickly lose 
 him that has resolved to die as he has lived, — All 
 yours, Jon. Swift." 
 
 After this pathetic appeal to Varina, we believe, he 
 bade an eternal farewell to what is called true love. 
 A few years hence we hear him saying, "That 
 true friendship is more lasting than violent love." 
 Swift's friendship, however, was characteristic of his 
 personality. With him, whether it was hatred or 
 affection, it was intense. His magnetism had a 
 terrific power of attraction or repulsion. When he 
 found his affinities in any one, that person he made 
 a friend — and the friend became a part of himself. 
 It was ever his way, when he trusted a friend, to 
 trust him wholly. His friendships were founded' 
 upon reason, not sentiment, and therefore were last- 
 ing. It is very touching to know that the friendships 
 of his youth, with one or two exceptions, were the 
 friendships of his old age. 
 
 The fifth resolution is : " Not to be fond of 
 children, nor let them come near me hardly 1' 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 27 
 
 Many of his biographers have construed these 
 words to mean that he had a hatred of children, but 
 they have misconstrued them. 
 
 These words prove the very opposite. We do not 
 need to defend ourselves by resolutions from what we 
 hate, but from what we like— from that which is apt 
 to become a temptation and a snare. 
 
 Swift was conscious when he penned that resolu- 
 tion that he himself had been ensnared into a strange 
 liking, I do not say love : for the beautiful little 
 Stella with her winning ways, had once been a sore 
 entanglement to him, and continued so through life. 
 "Our little language," as he calls it, is but Swift's 
 imitation of little Stella's childish language. This 
 seems to have had a strange influence over him, and 
 must have satisfied some want in his nature. On his 
 return home one evening from the dinner-table of 
 Secretary St. John, where there had been a dispute 
 about a house between Farnham and London, he 
 writes to Stella : " Pshaw ! I remember it very well 
 when I used to go for a walk to London from Moor 
 Park. What I warrant 00' don't remember, the 
 golden farmer neither Figgarkick Soley"— ;a part, 
 doubtless, of their childish gibberish known only to 
 themselves, and which can never be deciphered. 
 Swift was always kind to children and young people. 
 
 Mrs. Whiteway, the Doctor's friend, when she 
 found the manuscript with these resolutions, to save, 
 as she thought, the Dean's character, with her own 
 hand obliterated the latter part of the fifth resolution, 
 which is printed in italics, not knowing that these 
 
28 SWIFT. 
 
 very words proved the delicate tenderness of Swift's 
 nature; that the innocent, winning ways of childhood, 
 in contrast with the world's deceitfulness, unmanned 
 him, and made him uncomfortable. To maintain, as 
 most of his biographers do, that the fifth resolution 
 showed his hatred of children, is as monstrous a 
 proposition as that made by Thackeray, that Swift's 
 famous proposal for eating children proved what a 
 monster he was. He adds, "great and giant as 
 the Dean is, I say we should hoot him " ; when 
 Thackeray either knew, or should have known, that 
 this pamphlet to which he refers was a great 
 political satire, written by Swift to compel the 
 Government by force of public opinion to save the 
 children of the Irish poor from absolute starvation, 
 which he actually did. 
 
 At this epoch the Earl of Berkeley, one of the 
 Lords Justices of Ireland, invited Swift to accompany 
 him to that country as his secretary and chaplain, 
 with the promise of the first Church living that 
 became vacant. Swift accepted, and accordingly 
 acted as his secretary until his lordship reached 
 Dublin, when he found that he had been supplanted 
 by one Bush, who had persuaded his lordship that 
 the offices of the chaplain and the secretary should 
 not be combined. 
 
 Berkeley apologised to Swift as best he could, and 
 held out speedy Church preferment. The first living 
 that fell vacant in the patronage of the Earl was the 
 rich Deanery of Derry. His secretary. Bush, however, 
 entered into a negotiation to sell it for a bribe of a 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 29 
 
 thousand pounds, and would only consent to give 
 Swift the preference upon his paying a like sum, 
 
 The acute mind of Swift speedily suspected that 
 his lordship, as well as his secretary, was concerned 
 in this unrighteous demand, and returned them this 
 characteristic reply : " God confound you both for 
 a couple of scoundrels/' and instantly left Lord 
 Berkeley's chambers in the Castle. Lord Orrery 
 informs us that, notwithstanding this scene. Swift 
 would have been appointed but for the interposition 
 of the Bishop of the Diocese, who insisted that he 
 was too young, and that a man of greater experience 
 should be chosen to the Deanery; that from Swift's 
 proclivities he would be eternally flying backwards 
 and forwards to London, and entreated that another 
 should be appointed. We are inclined to think, from 
 what little there is known of Lord Berkeley, that 
 he was more likely to be influenced in this matter 
 by the advice of Bishop King than by the intrigues 
 of his secretary. If the Bishop kept him out of 
 the Deanery of Derry, on account of his youth. Swift 
 had his revenge, for in his great days of power he 
 kept the Bishop from being Archbishop of Armag 
 and Primate of Ireland, on account of his age. 
 Anyhow, Swift was passed over, and gave vent to 
 his wrath in a scathing satire, in which he ridicules 
 the Earl and his secretary as "the two whispering 
 kings of Brentford." Berkeley, fearing the temper 
 and talents of such a genius, to pacify him, presented 
 him instantly to the livings of Laracor, Agher, and 
 Rathbeggan in Meath, worth in all, two hundred and 
 
30 SWIFT. 
 
 forty-four pounds per annum. After Swift's presenta- 
 tion to Laracor, Lady Berkeley and her two charming 
 daughters — with whom Swiftwas an immense favourite 
 — insisted that, for the present, he should continue his 
 chaplaincy. They prevailed, and he remained at the 
 Castle until the official term of Lord Berkeley's ad- 
 ministration expired. Swift was on the most intimate 
 terms with the Berkeley family, and with them and 
 their aristocratic guests had many a frolic. On one 
 occasion he nearly burned the Castle, when Lord 
 Berkeley and himself had a narrow escape. Swift's 
 bedroom was next the Earl's, when Jonathan, in 
 bed reading with candle-light, fell asleep. The 
 candle had fallen on the bedclothes and set them 
 on fire, and they burned until the heat reached his 
 thighs, when he sprang out of bed, and succeeded in 
 quenching the flames ; and in the morning by the 
 aid of a few guineas of hush-money judiciously dis- 
 tributed among the servants, nothing more was 
 heard of this strange and risky episode. Another 
 story is related of his Castle life. It seems that 
 Lady Berkeley, like many good ladies of the present 
 day, was fond of what is called devotional reading. 
 In that class of literature, her favourite book was 
 "Hervey's Meditations," which she desired Swift 
 daily to read to her. Swift, who felt the duty 
 irksome, thought one morning that he would insert 
 a meditation of his own. Accordingly, when she 
 had arranged herself in the orthodox manner, with 
 shut eyes and folded hands, she, as usual, asked 
 the subject of meditation. 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 31 
 
 " The meditation this morning," answered Swift, 
 " is on a broomstick." 
 
 "A broomstick," said Lady Berkeley, opening 
 her eyes for a moment ; " but doubtless the man ol 
 God will have soijie beautiful reflections even on 
 that humble instrument of domestic use. Pray, Mr. 
 Swift, proceed." 
 
 Accordingly, with a solemn face and voice, he 
 read the meditation with great unction. At the per- 
 oration the footman announced some visitors, when 
 Swift at once closed the book, and, under some plea 
 of business, judiciously retired. 
 
 Lady Berkeley instantly began to tell her visitors 
 what a deeply interesting meditation of Dr. Hervey's 
 they had just been reading. 
 
 One of the ladies, who was conversant with the 
 " Meditations," asked which it was. 
 
 Her ladyship replied it was the one on a broom- 
 stick. 
 
 "There is no such meditation," said the lady, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Excuse me," said Lady Berkeley, " but there 
 is, and a deeply interesting one, too." 
 
 They referred to the book, and, to their amaze- 
 ment and amusement, found a manuscript of Swift's 
 inserted among the leaves. Swift ever after was re- 
 lieved from the irksome duty of meditation reading. 
 Lady Berkeley's fascinating daughters, who were 
 full of frolic, and fonder of satire than of devotion, 
 perpetually insisted upon Swift using his humorous 
 pen in poetical satire. Accordingly, to them we are 
 
32 SWIFT. 
 
 indebted for some of his inimitable pieces, which give 
 us a glimpse of Castle life apart from ceremony. 
 In this style of writing, Swift had no rival. How 
 inimitable, for instance, is that humorous piece : 
 
 ON THE LOSS OF MRS. FRANCIS HARRIS'S PURSE 
 OF MONEY. 
 
 " Lord ! Madam," says Mary, " how d'ye do ? " Indeed," says 
 
 I, "never worse." 
 " But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with my purse?" 
 " Lord help me !" says Mary, " I never stirred out of this place !" 
 "Nay," said I, "I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a 
 
 plain case." 
 So Mary got me to bed, and covered me up warm ; 
 However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself na 
 
 harm. 
 So I tumbled and tossed all night, as you may very well think ; 
 But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink. 
 So I was a dream'd methought, that we went and search'd th& 
 
 folks round. 
 And in a corner of Mrs. Duke's box, tied in a rag, the money 
 
 ■was found. 
 So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a-swearing ; 
 Then my dame Wadgar, and she, you know, is thick of hearing. 
 " Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, " do you know what 
 
 loss I have had ? " 
 " Nay," said she ; " my Lord Colway's folks are all very sad, 
 For my Lord Dromedary comes on Tuesday, without fail." 
 "Pugh !" said I ; "but that's not the business that I ail." 
 Says Cary, says he, " I have been a servant this five-and-twenty 
 
 years, come spring. 
 And in all places I lived, I never heard of such a thing." 
 " Yes," says the steward, " I remember, when I was at my Lady 
 
 Shrewsbury's, 
 Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time of goose- 
 berries." 
 
 The actors in that drama are as real to us to-day 
 as they were a century and a half ago. These Castle 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 33 
 
 servants — Wadgar, the old housekeeper, who is thick 
 of hearing, Whittle, the butler, who fell a-swearing, 
 and the others — live as vividly as they ever did. 
 This satire seems to have been long remembered by 
 the Berkeley family, as is evident from a fond allusion 
 to it, written by Lady Betty Germain to Swift, when 
 he was about to perform one of the most touching 
 incidents of his life. 
 
 Lady Berkeley had three daughters ; the youngest, 
 Lady Penelope, died in Dublin, and was buried 
 there, during their official residence at the Castle. 
 Two-and-thirty years after this, when Swift was 
 the famous Dean of St. Patrick's, he resolved to 
 erect a marble slab in St. Andrew's Church over 
 the altar, under which young Pen was buried. He 
 writes to his famous friend, Lady Betty, who for 
 a generation had been one of his familiar corre- 
 spondents, asking the exact date of her young sister's 
 death. In her reply, dated 23rd February, 1732, she 
 says : " I find you are growing a horrid flatterer, 
 or else you could never have thought of anything so 
 much to my taste as this piece of marble you speak 
 of for my sister Penelope, which I desire may be 
 at my expense. I cannot be exact, neither as to the 
 time nor year, but she died soon after we came there, 
 and we did not stay quite two years, and were in 
 England some months before King William died. I 
 wish I had my dame Wadgar's or Mr. Ferrier's 
 memorandum here, that I might know whether it 
 was at 'the time of gooseberries.'" This fond allusion 
 is to the humorous piece on the lost purse, written 
 
 D 
 
34 SWIFT. 
 
 by Swift in his Castle days, when Lady Betty and 
 he were both young and companions together, writing 
 doggerel rhyme to one another.* She ends the letter 
 playfully, as if they were both young again. " Adieu 
 abruptly ; for I will have no more formal humble 
 servants, with your whole name at the bottom, as 
 if I was asking you your catechism." 
 
 During his Castle days, Swift was also an in- 
 veterate maker of puns. The Castle circle, including 
 their autocratic guests, under Swift's influence, be- 
 came famous punsters. He invented a language of 
 puns which the Lord Lieutenant's family and friends 
 called the " Castilian." How different was Johnson 
 from Swift in this respect! "Sir," he said to Bos well, 
 " a man who makes a pun would pick your pocket." 
 
 Shortly before the Berkeley family left the Castle 
 for England, Swift, who was fond of equestrian as 
 well as pedestrian exercise, galloped down incognito 
 to take possession of his new living at Laracor. On 
 his way thither he amused himself by making im- 
 promptu sarcastic rhyme on the villages through 
 which he passed. One he characterises as "High 
 church and low steeple j dirty place and proud 
 people." When he arrived at his parish, he went 
 direct to the curate's house, entered and asked his 
 
 * This specimen of Lady Betty's doggerel, playfully written. 
 by her on one of Swift's manuscripts, will suffice : 
 
 With these is Parson Swift, 
 
 Not knowing how to spend his time, 
 
 Does make a wretched shift 
 
 To deafen them with puns and rhyme. 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 35 
 
 name, and bluntly announced that he was his master. 
 In a moment, all was bustle to receive such an im- 
 portant personage, and who, from his bearing, seemed 
 determined to maintain his dignity. He then, with 
 a grave face and imperious tone, addressed himself to 
 the curate's wife : " Madam, to your charge will I 
 entrust my entire wardrobe." He then solemnly 
 pulled from hi.s pocket a clean shirt and a pair of 
 stockings, which he delivered to her. 
 
 After this piece of frolic he soon placed them at 
 their ease. None knew better than Swift that " it 
 is always necessary to be loved, but not always 
 necessary to be reverenced," and soon the worthy 
 couple not only reverenced but learned to love and 
 to adore him. 
 
 During his incumbency at Laracor, his clerical 
 life was regular and exemplary. When at home 
 he preached every Sunday, although he seldom 
 ministered to a congregation of more than half a 
 score. He instituted a weekly service on Wednesday 
 evenings. One evening, when the bell had rung, no 
 one appeared but the church official, when he began 
 with great composure and a droll twinkle in his 
 eye : " Dearly beloved Roger, the Scripture moveth 
 you and me in sundry places," and went through 
 the whole service. He seems to have given himself 
 more to literature than to visiting parochially. Like 
 that old Scotch divine who seldom or never visited 
 his parish, but announced from the pulpit: "My 
 friends, if any of you are sick and wish to see me 
 and send for me, I'll come, but be ye thankful if ye 
 
 D 2 
 
36 SWIFT. 
 
 don't need me/' — I suspect that Swift was not too 
 well adapted to give parochial consolation to old 
 women, or to look properly gloomy on certain 
 occasions. Shortly after he got settled in the parish, 
 he betook himself to the reconstruction of his church 
 and vicarage, the architectural properties of which 
 would scarcely have pleased John Ruskin. They 
 were not merely dilapidated but hideous in build. 
 He also enriched the living by adding twenty acres 
 to its glebe, and additional tithes to its endowments, 
 purchased with his own money. 
 
 In language far surpassing that of the biographers, 
 Mr. Gladstone, speaking on this subject in the House 
 of Commons in 1869, said; "When Swift was Vicar 
 of Laracor, he went into a glebe-house with one 
 acre, and he left, it with twenty acres, improved and 
 decorated in many ways. He also endowed the 
 vicarage with tithes purchased by him for the pur- 
 pose of so bequeathing them ; and I am not aware 
 if it be generally known that a curious question 
 arises on this bequest. This extraordinary man, 
 €ven at the time when he wrote that the Irish 
 Catholics were so down-trodden and insignificant 
 that no possible change could bring them into a 
 position of importance, appears to have foreseen 
 the day when the ecclesiastical arrangements of 
 Ireland would be called to account; for he pro- 
 •ceeds to provide for a time when the episcopal 
 religion might be no longer the national religion of 
 the country. By some secret intimation he foresaw 
 the shortness of its existence, as an establishment. 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 37 
 
 and left the property subject to a condition that in 
 such a case it should be administered for the benefit 
 of the poor." Swift betook hiniself also to the 
 planting of flowers and willows by the banks of 
 the little stream that meanders through his glebe. 
 Strangers, who go to visit the place where the great 
 Dean once lived, find that the willows are cut down, 
 the flowers gone, the stream dry, the vicarage a 
 ruin ; yet that vicarage where Swift once lived, 
 with its little river, its willows, and its flowers, will 
 remain as imperishable as the English language. 
 
 Earl Berkeley, at the close of the seventeenth 
 century, by a change of Government, was recalled to 
 England. He prevailed upon Swift to accompany 
 him. Accordingly, after he received his degree of 
 D.D. from the University of Dublin, Swift, in the 
 April of that year, started from Dublin with the 
 Berkeley family for London. It would seem, after all, 
 that Bishop King was correct in the estimate which 
 he formed of the restless proclivities of Swift, " who 
 would," he predicted, "be eternally flying backwards 
 and forwards to London." 
 
 On Swift's arrival in London, he first paid a visit 
 to Stella and her companion, Mrs. Dingley. Knowing 
 that Stella's small fortune consisted of fifteen hundred 
 pounds, the investment of which, in England, yielded 
 but a small percentage, he advised that the money 
 should be withdrawn and invested in Ireland, where 
 it would yield ten per cent., and where also she had 
 a small property left her by Sir William Temple. 
 
38 SWIFT. 
 
 Pretty good fortune, we should say to Lord 
 Macaulay, for a pretty waiting-maid to possess, when 
 we consider the relative value of money then and 
 now. Swift ended his visit by inviting the ladies to 
 follow their funds — to come over themselves to 
 Ireland, and to reside there. He prevailed. They 
 both complied. 
 
 Swift next had an interview with the King, 
 doubtless to present His Majesty with another volume 
 of Temple's works. Referring to this interview, 
 afterwards, he says : " I remember when I was last 
 in England, I told the King that the highest Tories 
 we have with us in Ireland would make tolerable 
 Whigs in England." To King William, however, 
 Whig and Tory were equally annoying. , The one 
 party doubted his title, and the other party his 
 prerogative. 
 
 , Speaking on this subject to Halifax, King 
 William remarked : " The only difference between 
 them was that the one would cut his throat in the 
 morning, and the other would let him live till the 
 afternoon." 
 
 He next paid a visit to' the rendezvous of the 
 Whig wits in St. James's Coffee-house, where Addison 
 nightly gave his little senate laws. His first appear- 
 ance there is graphically portrayed by Ambrose 
 Philips, one of the wits and a spectator of the scene. 
 " They had for several successive nights," he informs 
 Sheridan, " observed a strange clergyman come into 
 the coffee-house, who seemed utterly unacquainted 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 39 
 
 with any of those who frequented it, and whose custom 
 it was to lay down his hat on a table, and walk back- 
 wards and forwards at a good pace for half an hour, 
 without speaking to any mortal, or seeming in the 
 least to attend to anything that was going forward 
 there. He then used to take up his hat, pay his 
 money at the bar, and walk away without opening 
 his lips. After having observed this singular be- 
 haviour for some time, they concluded him to be out 
 of his senses, and the name that he went by among 
 them was that of 'the mad parson.' This made them 
 more than usually attentive to his motions ; and one 
 evening, as Mr. Addison and the rest were observing 
 him, they saw him cast his eyes several times on a 
 gentleman in boots, who seemed to be just come out 
 of the country, and at last advance towards him as 
 intending to address him. They were all eager to 
 hear what this dumb, mad parson had to say, and 
 immediately quitted their seats to get near him. 
 Swift went up to the country gentleman, and in a 
 very abrupt manner, without any previous salute, 
 asked him : 
 
 " ' Pray, sir, do you remember any good weather 
 in the world ? ' 
 
 " The country gentleman, after staring a little at 
 the singularity of his manner, and the oddity of the 
 question, answered : 
 
 " ' Yes, sir, I thank God I remember a great deal 
 of good weather in my time.' 
 
 "'That is more,' said Swift, 'than I can say; I 
 never remember any weather that was not too hot or 
 
40 SWIFT. 
 
 too cold, too wet or too dry; but however God 
 Almighty contrives it, at the end of the year 'tis all 
 very well.' " 
 
 We are reminded here of his own anecdote of 
 " Will Seymour, the General," when grumbling under 
 scorching heat. A philosophic friend remarked, 
 "that the weather at least pleased the Almighty." 
 " Perhaps it may," said the General, " but I am 
 sure it pleases nobody else." 
 
 To that observation Dr. Johnson would instantly 
 have replied : 
 
 " Sir, I do not see the least necessity that it 
 should." 
 
 This story, which Sheridan relates upon the 
 authority of Ambrose Philips, has been rejected by 
 some as apocryphal j at all events, it has been re- 
 ceived as correct by Dr. Johnson and Sir Walter 
 Scott. Evidently, however, Sheridan is mistaken in 
 affirming that it occurred in Button's Coffee-house, 
 as that was not established until 171 1. It must have 
 occurred at St. James's Coffee-house, the well-known 
 rendezvous of Addison and his Whig wits. 
 
 Sheridan relates another story, which occurred 
 about the same time and in the same place, but 
 which we prefer giving in the more delicate language 
 of Sir Walter Scott. " I am happy," says Sir Walter 
 Scott, "to give, upon the authority of Dr. Wall of 
 Worcester, who had it from Dr. Arbuthnot himself, 
 a less coarse edition than that which is generally 
 told. Swift was seated by the fire ; there was sand 
 on the floor of the coffee-house, and Arbuthnot, with 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 41 
 
 a design to play upon this original figure, offered 
 him a letter which he had been just addressing, 
 saying, at the same time, ' There — sand that.' ' I 
 have got no sand/ answered Swift, ' but I can help 
 you to a little gravel.' This he said so significantly, 
 that Arbuthnot hastily snatched back his letter, to 
 save it from the fate of the capital of Lilliput." 
 
 Ah, little did Addison and his little senate know 
 that the eccentric parson they were laughing at had 
 been listening to their silly jokes, and measuring 
 their intellects, and silently writing over them the 
 inscription — very small. Little did they know that 
 he was the greatest satirist and political writer of the 
 age, the confidant of Cabinet Ministers, and personal 
 friend of the King; that one day he was to be 
 Addison's patron, and, indeed, the patron of nearly 
 all of them; and that shortly he was to be pre- 
 sented with Addison's " Travels in Italy," with this 
 inscription : 
 
 TO 
 
 DR. JONATHAN SWIFT, 
 
 THE MOST AGREEABLE COMPANION, 
 
 THE TRUEST FRIEND, 
 
 AND THE GREATEST GENIUS OF HIS AGE, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED BY HIS MOST HUMBLE SERVANT 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 After this scene in St. James's they saw Swift no 
 more until the "Tale of a Tub" burst upon the 
 world, and was received with the apiplause of nations, 
 and when, in the person of the author, the wits at 
 St. James's recognised their mad parson. 
 
 Before taking his final departure from London 
 
42 SWIFT. 
 
 to Laracor he paid a visit to Leicester, the home 
 of his mother. Indeed, it is one of the most pleasing 
 characteristics of his life, that in the midst of his 
 power and politics he never forgot to pay an annual 
 visit to his mother, travelling with coach in his great 
 days, and on foot in the days of his poverty. In 
 after years, he used to tell great Ministers of State 
 that he had never studied life to greater advantage 
 than when journeying home in a carrier's cart, or 
 eating dinner with rustics at the wayside inn, or in 
 the village alehouse, over whose door was written 
 "Lodgings for a penny," where he used to give 
 sixpence extra as a bribe to the pretty waiting-maid 
 to get clean sheets and a bed to himself. Earl 
 Orrery ascribes this to meanness ; but Johnson, with 
 greater acuteness, ascribes it to his desire of surveying 
 human life through all its varieties. 
 
 Swift now returned to his Irish rectory ; but this 
 was not for long. When the rough March winds of 
 1705 were hushed. Swift once more betook himself 
 from Laracor to London to find the " Tale of a Tub " 
 published. This book, at one and the same moment, 
 unbarred to Swift the gates of immortality, and 
 barred against him the gates of a bishopric. 
 
 When I say that it debarred him from a bishopric, 
 I am looking at ostensible reasons. If the Court 
 favourite. Lady Suffolk, on bended knee implored 
 her Sovereign that Swift, the author of the " Tale of 
 a Tub," might not be made a bishop, we may rest 
 assured that it was only the ostensible reason; the 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 43 
 
 ridiculing of her red hair by Swift, the correct one : 
 Spretcz injuria forma. Warton says that Swift 
 nowhere acknowledged or claimed the authorship. 
 That assertion is not true. Letters from Swift to 
 his bookseller remain, giving instructions and di- 
 recting corrections for a new edition. It is true 
 that Swift never put his name to the "Tale," but 
 it is equally true he would allow no one else to 
 do so. His little parson cousin, Thomas Swift, 
 knowing that Jonathan could hardly acknowledge 
 it for fear of losing his expected bishopric, thought 
 that he might be helped through an uncle of his to 
 a war chaplaincy, to which he was appointed, or 
 nearly so, by being unprincipled enough to lay claim 
 to the authorship of it. Regarding the pretended 
 claim of his cousin, Swift wrote to the publisher : 
 " If he should happen to be in town, and you light 
 on him, I think you ought to tell him gravely that 
 if he be the author, he should set his name to it, 
 and rally him a little upon it, and tell him if he 
 can explain something, you will, if he pleases, set 
 his name to the next edition. I should be glad 
 to hear how far the foolish impudence of a dunce 
 could go." In a P.S. to the Apology he wrote sar- 
 castically to the same effect : " If any person will 
 prove his claim to three lines in the whole book, 
 let him step forth and tell his name and titles, upon 
 which the bookseller shall have orders to prefix them 
 to the next edition, and the claimant shall from 
 henceforward be acknowledged the undisputed 
 author." But not only did the little parson cousin 
 
44 SWIFT. 
 
 impose upon his uncle, but what was more wonderful, 
 he nearly persuaded the learned Wotton into a belief 
 of his authorshipj although the shrewd litterateurs of 
 the day looked upon it as a practical joke. What 
 is more wonderful still, even Johnson, with acute 
 intellect, was suspicious that the " Tale " was too 
 clever for Swift. He says that " Swift's ' Tale of 
 a Tub' has little resemblance to his other pieces. 
 It exhibits a vehemence and, rapidity of mind, a 
 copiousness of images, and vivacity of diction such 
 as he afterwards never possessed or never exerted." 
 But with all due deference, we submit that these 
 objections were the best internal evidence that the 
 book was Swift's. A pernicious vice, this pulling 
 down of great names ; and if truth must be spoken, 
 Johnson was not free from it. He had unmistakable 
 prejudice against Swift; and the misery of a preju- 
 dice is, that, not being founded upon fact for its 
 continuance, facts cannot shake it. Otherwise his 
 sturdy intellect must have seen internal evidence 
 from the " Tale " itself, as well as certain coincidences 
 in " Gulliver's Travels," that he was the author of 
 the book. Besides, could Johnson imagine that 
 Swift would not have denied it when he knew that 
 a single word of denial to the Queen, the Archbishop 
 of York, or to Lord Somers would have procured 
 for him the See of Hertford ? But, above all, that 
 tragic scene in the Deanery in the twilight of Swift's 
 intellect, when, . mournfully turning over the leaves 
 of the copy of the " Tale of a Tub " which he had 
 presented to his nurse and friend, Mrs, Whiteway, 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 45 
 
 he was heard murmuring to himself, not knowing 
 that any one was listening to him : " Good God ! 
 what a genius I had when I wrote that book ! " 
 
 Whilst the French nation, under the literary dicta- 
 torship of Voltaire, cheered the " Tale of a Tub " to 
 the echo as the greatest prose satire of the age, 
 it is notorious that another nation never liked it — 
 that nation which, Sydney Smith impertinently said, 
 required a surgical operation to understand a joke. 
 But surely the Anglican divine, if correct in his sweep- 
 ing assertion — which I deny, unless he meant a religious 
 joke — did not know the cause of the nation's obtuse- 
 ness, as given by the author from whom he borrowed 
 the witticism, without acknowledgment — namely, Scot- 
 land's gloomy skies and sour Calvinism ; otherwise 
 the reverend joker would have felt that this obtuse- 
 ness was a subject for pity and not for sneering 
 criticism. The Scottish nation, although it never 
 liked the " Tale," admired the immense genius of its 
 author. As a work of genius, no praise can be too" 
 high for it. It is doubtless the greatest prose satire 
 in any language. It may well be called the " Prose 
 Dunciad," the forerunner of Pope's poetical, "Dun- 
 ciad," which Swift indeed suggested and helped to 
 execute. To the connoisseurs of learning, science, 
 and morals, as well as religion, it applied the satirical 
 lash unmercifully. This stirred up a nest of hornets, 
 from the archiepiscopal throne to the Grub Street 
 hack ; but the yelping critics have perished, all save 
 one — the loudest and the most learned, Wotton by 
 name, whom Swift cleverly caught and harnessed 
 
46 SWIFT. 
 
 to his triumphant chariot, amidst the laughter and 
 hosannahs of a nation. ' This was one of the cleverest 
 jokes that Swift ever perpetrated. The learned 
 Wotton had quarrelled with Swift over " The Battle 
 of the Books," and was enraged at the unparalleled 
 success of the "Tale of a Tub." With the avowed 
 purpose of warning the people, who greedily bought 
 up the book, against its subtle and dangerous influ- 
 ence, he wrote an elaborate elucidation of its darker 
 passages. Swift, with inimitable cleverness and 
 coolness, printed in the next edition these illustra- 
 tions, as " the notes and elucidations contributed to 
 its text by the worthy and ingenious Mr. Wotton, 
 Bachelor of Divinity." Thus the enraged Wotton 
 goes down to posterity amidst a chorus of laughter 
 as the friendly elucidator of the "Tale" which he tried 
 so hard to condemn. 
 
 From the first words of dedication to the last of 
 peroration, the " Tale " is brimful of subtle humour 
 and inimitable satire, beating hollow even that of 
 Rabelais. Instead of subtle humour we wish we 
 could have said delicate humour, but regret we 
 cannot, for it must be confessed, even making allow- 
 ance for the age, that many passages are very coarse 
 although inimitably clever. Even in the dedication 
 what a fund of humorous satire ! "Detur Dignissimo," 
 written in great letters on the outside cover of the 
 manuscript, struck the publisher as likely to mean 
 something, but what he could not say. He only 
 knew that the words were Latin. Accordingly he 
 sent for an interpreter. " But," he adds, " it unluckily 
 
THE SCHOLAR AND PROFESSIONAL. 47 
 
 fell out that none of the authors I employ understand 
 Latin, though I have them often in pay to translate 
 out of that language." At last in the parish curate 
 an interpreter was found, who deciphered that the 
 book was to be given to the worthiest — but who was 
 he ? Accordingly, he took his interpretation to be 
 interpreted by a neighbouring poet, who lived in a 
 garret, and whose landlady kept the ladder. This 
 worthy individual, after hesitation, modestly replied 
 that although he hated vanity, yet he believed that 
 these words were meant for himself, and in the most 
 generous manner offered to write gratis a dedication 
 to himself. The publisher, however, slily thought 
 that he would try another guess ; and, doubtless 
 without any selfish motive, fixed upon Lord Chan- 
 cellor Somers, to whom, at last, the "Tale" was 
 dedicated. 
 
 The " Tale of a Tub " for a century and a half 
 has been lustily censured and rapturously applauded, 
 and shall continue to be so until the end of time. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 SWIFT: THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 It was during his incumbency in the obscure 
 vicarage of Laracor that Swift, by his politics, 
 startled Europe. 
 
 His first appearance in the arena of politics was 
 by the publication of a political pamphlet of much 
 power, written in haste and published in secrecy, 
 under the following circumstances. Earl Berkeley, at 
 the close of the seventeenth century, by a change 
 of Government was recalled to England. He pre- 
 vailed upon Swift to accompany him. 
 
 On Swift's arrival in London with the Berkeleys, 
 he found political matters in a state of the greatest 
 confusion. I shall now let Swift speak for himself. 
 " Soon after I went to London ; and in a few weeks 
 drew up a discourse under the title of ' The Contests 
 and Dissensions of the Nobles and Commons in 
 Athens and Rome, with the Consequences they had 
 upon those States.' This discourse I sent very 
 privately to the press, with the strictest injunctions 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 49 
 
 to conceal the author, and returned immediately to 
 my residence in Ireland." 
 
 Here, in his snug Irish vicarage, Swift watched 
 with interest and amusement the result of his political 
 pamphlet. So ably was it written, that it was first 
 ascribed to the Bishop of Salisbury, the ablest theo- 
 logical writer of the age, who was threatened by the 
 Government with prosecution on account of its 
 treasonable t-endency, which compelled the poor 
 Bishop, in mortal terror, to resign the honour of its 
 authorship by public renunciation of it. It was next 
 fathered on Lord Somers, the ablest statesman of the 
 day, who also, in fear and trembling, renounced it. 
 At this critical time the Tories had impeached four 
 other Whig lords. All this was infinite merriment 
 to the humorous and unsuspected Swift in his snug 
 Irish vicarage. 
 
 When the pamphlet was in the height of its popu- 
 larity and had created " a stream of tendency " in the 
 public mind against the Government, it is related that 
 Swift, one day in Dublin, met old Bishop Sheridan, 
 who asked " if he had seen the famous pamphlet 
 that was doing such work and making such noise ? " 
 
 Swift modestly replied that he had, and observed : 
 
 " It was very well liked at London." 
 
 " Very well liked ? " said the Bishop, with some 
 degree of emotion. 
 
 " Yes, sir, it is one of the finest tracts that ever 
 was written." 
 
 " Well, surely Bishop Burnet is one of the best 
 writers in the whole world ! " 
 
50 SWIFT. 
 
 " Bishop Burnet, my lord ! " said the Doctor. 
 "Why, my lord, Bishop Burnet was not the author 
 of that discourse." 
 
 "Not the author of it ? " said the Bishop. " Pray 
 sir, give me your reason — ^your reason, Mr. Swift, for 
 thinking so." 
 
 " Because, my lord, that discourse is not written 
 in the Bishop's style." 
 
 "Not in the Bishop's style! "replied old Sheridan, 
 with some degree of contempt. 
 
 " No, my lord ; the style of that pamphlet is, 
 I think, wholly different from the style of the 
 Bishop." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Swift," replied Sheridan, "I have had 
 a long acquaintance with your uncles, and an old 
 friendship for all your family, and really I have a 
 great regard for you in particular. But let me 
 advise you, Mr. Swift — for you are still a very young 
 man, I know that you have a good share of abilities, 
 and are a good scholar — however, let me assure you, 
 notwithstanding, that you are still a great deal too 
 young to pronounce your judgment on the style of 
 authors." 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to your lordship," replied 
 Swift, "for the good opinion you are pleased to 
 entertain of me ; but still I am to assure your 
 lordship that Bishop Burnet was not the author of 
 that discourse." 
 
 " Well, sir, if Bishop Burnet was not the author 
 of it, pray, sir, let me know who it was that did 
 write it ? " 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 51 
 
 " Why, really, my lord, I wrote it myself." 
 
 And this was the first time, says Dean Swift, he 
 ever acknowledged it or any other of his writings. 
 We can imagine the astonishment with which his 
 lordship received the startling information. 
 
 Indeed, politicians on both sides were struck 
 by its trenchant sarcasms, its infinite humour, and 
 logical acumen. It was at once apparent that a 
 giant had arisen to wield the club of political con- 
 troversy. 
 
 Accordingly, in the spring of 1702, he left his 
 flowers, his willows, and the beautiful SteUa, and 
 betook himself to the great metropolis to claim the 
 authorship of the pamphlet, and to see what it could 
 do for him with the Whig Government, in whose 
 interests it was written. 
 
 " Hearing," says Swift, " of the great reputation 
 this piece had received (which was the first I ever 
 printed), I must confess, the vanity of a young man 
 prevailed with me to let myself be known for the 
 author; upon which my Lords Somers and Halifax 
 (Charles Montagu), as well as the Bishop above 
 mentioned, desired my acquaintance, with great 
 marks of esteem and professions of kindness — not 
 to mention the Earl of Sunderland, who had been 
 my old acquaintance. They lamented that they 
 were not able to serve me since the death of the 
 King, and were very liberal in promising me the 
 greatest preferments I could hope for, if it ever 
 came in their power. 
 
 " I soon grew domestic with Lord Halifax, and 
 
52 SWIFT. 
 
 was as often with Lord Somcrs as the formality of 
 his nature (the only unconversable fault he had) 
 made it agreeable to me." 
 
 Even at this time he took high ground with the 
 Ministry. He says (it was then 1702) : " I began to 
 trouble myself with the differences between the 
 principles of Whig and Tory, having formerly 
 employed myself in other and, I think, better specu- 
 lations, I talked upon this subject to Lord Somers, 
 and told him that having been long conversant with 
 Greek and Latin authors, and therefore a lover of 
 literature, I found myself much inclined to be what 
 they call a Whig in politics; but as to religion, I 
 confessed myself to be a High Churchman . . . and 
 I could not conceive how any one who wore the 
 habit of a clergyman could be otherwise . . . that I 
 would not enter into the reproaches made by the 
 violent men on either side ; but that the connivance, 
 or encouragement, given by the Whigs to these 
 writers of pamphlets, who reflected upon the whole 
 body of the clergy without any exception, would 
 unite the Church to one man to oppose them ; and 
 that I doubted his lordship's friends did not consider 
 the consequences." 
 
 If the Ministry, after the publication of Swift's 
 first political pamphlet, had doubted that he was the 
 keenest satirist and political pamphleteer of the age 
 — a power that had to be reckoned with in Church 
 and State — the publication of the " Tale of a Tub " 
 must have convinced them beyond the shadow of a 
 doubt. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 53 
 
 He distinctly lets them know his attitude ; that 
 he was no Grub Street scribe writing for hire ; that 
 he would be in no man's pay^ but that his alliance 
 with their cause meant perfect equality with the best of 
 them — stipulations which were not unreasonable. In 
 after years he jestingly writes to Pope — and under all 
 his jests there was a serious meaning : " I will tell 
 you that all my endeavours from a boy to distinguish 
 myself were only for want of a great title and 
 fortune, that I might be used like a lord by those 
 who have an opinion of my parts — whether right or 
 wrong is no great matter — and so the reputation of 
 great learning does the office of a blue ribbon or of a 
 coach and six horses." The Ministry were only too 
 glad to accept of Swift's alliance on his own terms, as 
 a High Church Whig. This is a point which Jeffrey 
 and Macaulay, when th^y accuse Swift of political 
 inconsistency and apostasy, entirely overlook and 
 ignore. Swift's political pamphlets, from 1701 until 
 1710 — the year he joined the Tories — were reitera- 
 tions of his High Church Whiggism. They were 
 meant to strengthen the Church and indirectly 
 weaken the Government. 
 
 If Jeffrey and Macaulay did not comprehend the 
 subtle tendency of these pamphlets, Godolphin, 
 Somers, and Halifax did. Indeed, from a Ministerial 
 point of viewj these pamphlets might have been 
 labelled dangerous explosives. Therefore Swift's 
 change of politics was neither sudden nor selfish, 
 as Lord Mahon would have us to believe^ It is 
 amusing that the Whig Cabinet and Whig wits of 
 
54 SWIFT. 
 
 Queen Anne, and the prelates and clergy of the 
 " Scoundrel Island," were as perplexed what to make 
 of this eccentric genius as his puzzled, yet admiring, 
 parishioners of Laracor. 
 
 Neither Whig nor Tory could interpret his 
 political and ecclesiastical attitude. Tories called 
 him Whig, and Whigs a Tory. A Whig in politics, 
 and a Tory in churchmanship, was what they did not, 
 and could not understand. 
 
 In Queen Victoria's reign the party holding this 
 creed is numbered by tens of thousands. In Queen 
 Anne's reign the party holding it numbered only 
 Swift himself. The Whig Ministry of that day were 
 shrewd enough to realise that inevitably, sooner or 
 later, one or other of the principles must give way ; 
 therefore. Swift was not wholly to their liking. Yet 
 they felt that he was a power with which they had 
 to reckon. During these years. Swift mingled in 
 splendid society. The nobles, the famous wits, and 
 the proud statesmen were at his feet. From 1702 
 until 1708, Swift's contemporaries in literature and 
 politics were receiving splendid appointments. 
 Congreve got a comfortable office; Addison de- 
 scended from a garret to a Secretaryship of State ; 
 and small men got bishoprics ; but none of the good 
 things fell to the lot of Swift. How was that ? Just 
 as it was, is now, and ever shall be ! The race is not 
 to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor 
 bishoprics to men of genius. 
 
 At the end of 1704, we hear Swift saying, that he 
 received nothing but " the good words and wishes of 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 55 
 
 a decayed Ministry, whose lives and mine will 
 probably wear out before they can serve either my 
 little hopes, or their own ambition." 
 
 These words were prophetically true. He fought 
 their political battles, but got none of the spoil. 
 They feared him, but could not trust him, because 
 they did not understand him. 
 
 Political feeling ran high in the reign of Queen 
 Anne. Men were sharply defined as Whig and 
 Tory. " Even the cats and dogs," says Swift, " were 
 infected with the Whig and Tory animosity. The 
 very ladies were ranged into High Church and Low, 
 and out of zeal for religion had hardly time to say 
 their prayers." The correct, the fashionable, as well 
 as profitable, creed was to be a Whig and Low 
 Church, or a Toiy and High Church. 
 
 Swift scornfully disdained this creed. He steered 
 a middle course. His opinion was, that no true lover 
 of liberty could unite with the extreme Tories, 
 and no true lover of the Church could join the 
 extreme Whigs. We must distinctly keep this 
 attitude in view in following his career. This is 
 the secret why Lord Somers, " that deceitful rascal,'' 
 as Swift calls him, played fast and loose, and 
 Godolphin blew hot and cold. As the political 
 characteristics of Swift are vividly portrayed in his 
 pamphlet and journal to Stella, it will now be my 
 duty, even at the risk of being thought tedious, to 
 glance at these, and to quote therefrom, in illus- 
 tration and explanation of the many subtle phases 
 of his political life. We have an able exposition of 
 
56 SWIFT. 
 
 Swift's political creed in a pamphlet entitled, " The 
 Sentiments of a Church of England Man with respect 
 to Religion and Government." In this treatise he 
 defines his position very clearly in the opening 
 sentence. 
 
 " Whoever," he says, " has examined the conduct 
 and proceedings of both parties for some years past, 
 whether in or out of power, cannot well conceive it 
 possible to go far towards the extremes of either, 
 without offering some violence to his integrity or 
 understanding." 
 
 His reason for publishing this pamphlet is given 
 in these words : " When the two parties that divide 
 the commonwealth come once to a rupture, with- 
 out any hopes left of forming a third, with better 
 principle, to balance the others, it seems every man's 
 duty to choose one of the two sides, although he 
 cannot entirely approve of either." 
 
 In this paper he presents his political and 
 religious creed in relation to Church and State. 
 
 At this juncture, Swift had a strong and rampant 
 desire to form a third party, to be designated, not by 
 the name of Whig and Tory, but Church of England 
 men. His scheme was a masterly pne. " He poses," 
 says Johnson, " as a dignified moderator. He states 
 his qualifications with perfect frankness and with 
 perfect truth." " I believe I am no bigot in religion, 
 and I am sure I am none in government," he says, 
 and proceeds, accordingly, to give advice to the 
 Whigs and warning to the Tories. 
 
 " Had the Whigs," says Foster, " taken his advice 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 57 
 
 and let the Church alone, they might have escaped 
 the disaster of the five following years." 
 
 "In order to preserve the constitution entire," 
 says Swift, " in Church and State, whoever has a true 
 value for both would be sure to avoid the extremes 
 of Whig, for the sake of the former, and the extremes 
 of Tory, for the sake of the latter." 
 
 "But moderation in politics," says Sir Walter 
 Scott, " however reasonable in itself, and though re- 
 commended by the powers of Swift, has been always 
 too cold for the English nation." 
 
 As to government, there could not be a stauncher 
 Whig than Swift on the old principle of Whiggism. 
 "But," says Sheridan, "he was an utter enemy to 
 some new ones adopted by that party which evidently 
 tended to Republicanism. And as to their measures 
 with regard to religion, he widely differed from them." 
 
 At this time Swift stood in an anomalous 
 position. He was too much of a Whig for the 
 Tories, and too much of a Tory for the Whigs. 
 
 His next political pamphlet was " An Argument 
 against Abolishing Christianity," a piece of satire 
 consummate and inimitable. The grave irony of his 
 argument is subtle and impressive. It is not real 
 Christianity that Swift is against abolishing, "for 
 that," he says, "has long since been abolished 
 by universal consent, as being incompatible with 
 wealth and pleasure." It is nominal Christianity 
 that he has resolved to defend. This being clearly 
 understood, he proceeds to enumerate in a masterly 
 but sarcastic way the many inconveniences that 
 
58 SWIFT. ■ 
 
 would follow its extinction. One or two illustrations 
 may be given of his humorous style of argument. 
 
 "It is urged," says Swift, "that there are, by 
 computation, in this kingdom above ten thousand 
 parsons, whose revenues, added to those of my lords, 
 the bishops, would suffice to maintain at least two 
 hundred young gentlemen of wit and pleasure, and 
 freethinking, enemies to priestcraft, narrow principles, 
 pedantry, and prejudices; who might be an orna- 
 ment to the court and town. And then, again, so 
 great a number of able [bodied] divines, might be a 
 recruit to our fleet and armies. This appears to be 
 a consideration of some weight ; but then, on the 
 other side, several things deserve to be considered 
 likewise. . . . What would become of the race of 
 men in the next age, if we had nothing to trust 
 to beside the scrofulous, consumptive productions, 
 furnished by our men of wit and pleasure, when, 
 having squandered away their vigour, health, and 
 estates, they are forced, by some disagreeable mar- 
 riage, to piece up their broken fortunes, and entail 
 rottenness and politeness on their posterity ? Now, 
 here are ten thousand persons reduced, by the wise 
 regulations of Henry the Eighth, to the necessity 
 of a low diet and moderate exercise, who are the 
 only great restorers of our breed, without which the 
 nation would, in an age or two, become one great 
 hospital." 
 
 Another advantage proposed by the abolishing of 
 Christianity, is, "the clear gain of one day in seven, 
 which is now entirely lost, and consequently the 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 59 
 
 kingdom one-seventh less considerable in trade, 
 business, and pleasure, beside the loss to the public 
 of so many stately structures, now in the hands of 
 the clergy, which might be converted into play- 
 houses, exchanges, common dormitories, and other 
 public edifices. But he would fain know how it 
 can be pretended that the churches are misapplied ? 
 Where are more appointments and rendezvous of 
 gallantry — where more care to appear in the 
 foremost box with greater advantage of dress — 
 where more meetings for business — where more 
 bargains driven of all sorts — and where so many 
 conveniences or incitements to sleep?" 
 
 He urges another argument of a parallel nature : 
 " If Christianity were once abolished, how could the 
 freethinkers, the strong reasoners, and the men of 
 profound learning, be able to find another subject, 
 so calculated in all points, whereon to display their 
 abilities ? What wonderful productions of wit should 
 we be deprived of, from those whose genius, by 
 continual practice, has been wholly turned upon 
 raillery and invectives against religion, and would 
 therefore never be able to shine or distinguish them- 
 selves upon any other subject; we are daily com- 
 plaining of the great decline of wit among us, and 
 would we take away the greatest, perhaps the only, 
 topic we have left ? Who would ever have suspected 
 Asgil for a wit, or Toland for a philosopher, if the 
 inexhaustible stock of Christianity had not been at 
 hand to provide them with materials? 
 
 " To conclude : whatever some may think of the 
 
6o SWIFT. 
 
 great advantages to trade by this favourite scheme, 
 I do very much apprehend, that in six months' time 
 after the Act is passed for the extirpation of the 
 Gospel, the Bank and East India stock may fall 
 at least one per cent. And since that is fifty times 
 more than ever the wisdom of our age thought fit 
 to venture, for the preservation of Christianity, there 
 is no reason we should be at so great a loss, merely 
 for the sake of destroying it." 
 
 The drift of the pamphlet is a subtle attack upon 
 the Whigs for being the friends of the freethinkers. 
 We can also read between the lines his opinions 
 as a Churchman, which help us to interpret many 
 difficulties in his political career. 
 
 His next political treatise was entitled, "A Letter 
 from a Member of the House of Commons in Ireland, 
 to a Member of the House of Commons in England, 
 concerning the Sacramental Test, dated from Dublin, 
 December, 1708," and is an admirable pamphlet from 
 Swift's standpoint, and of great political power. In 
 it he treats the Roman Catholics with contempt. 
 " Under the penal laws they are as inconsiderable," 
 he declares, "as women and children." 
 
 The Presbyterians he also treats with infinite 
 scorn. This bitter feeling against Catholic and 
 Presbyterian is due, doubtless, to early associations 
 in Kilroot, where they treated him with much 
 contempt, refusing to associate with him, and de- 
 nouncing him as the mad parson. To this treatment 
 the world is indebted for the "Tale of a Tub,'' 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 6r 
 
 which otherwise had never been written. This 
 bitter treatment Swift never forgot and never forgave. 
 Long years after^ when the Presbyterians of 
 Ireland wished to be on friendly terms with Episco- 
 palians and called them brother Protestants, Swift 
 resented this with great scorn in that scathing satire, 
 entitled, " The words Brother Protestants and Fellow 
 Christians, so familiarly used by the Advocates for the 
 Repeal of the Test Act in Ireland." 
 
 An inundation, says the fable, 
 O'reflowed a farmer's barn and stable ; 
 Whole ricks of hay and stacks of corn 
 Were down the sudden current borne ; 
 While things of heterogeneous kind 
 Together float with tide and wind. 
 The generous wheat forgets its pride, 
 And sailed with htter side by side, 
 Uniting all to shew their amity 
 As in a general calamity. 
 A ball of new-dropp'd horse's dung,* 
 Mingling with apples t in the throng, 
 Said to the pippin, plump and prim, 
 " See, brother, how we apples swim." 
 
 To the question. Shall the Episcopalians unite 
 with the Presbyterians against the Catholics for State 
 purposes, Swift gives an emphatic. No. Of the two, 
 he thinks that the Catholics are less harmless to the 
 Church and State. " Naturalists," says Swift, " might 
 agree that a lion was a bigger, stronger, more 
 dangerous enemy than a cat ; but bind the lion fast, 
 draw his teeth, and pare his claws to the quick, and 
 determine whether you'd have him in that condition 
 at your throat, or an angry cat at full liberty." Swift 
 
 * Presbyterians. t Episcopalians. 
 
■62 SWIFT. 
 
 saw, with perfect clearness, that the battle was not 
 between Catholics and Protestants, but between 
 Episcopacy and Presbytery. The Pres^jyterians were 
 chiefly Scottish, a thrifty, brave, and noble race, who 
 had come from the barren Lochaber Hills to the more 
 fruitful valleys of the Emerald Isle, with a bitter an- 
 tipathy to Episcopacy. Swift clearly realised the 
 utter incompatibility of union or communion with 
 them. Yet they were a power that his Church had to 
 reckon with, more especially as Wharton, the Lord 
 Lieutenant — not as a religionist, for he had no re- 
 ligion, but as a politician — had given his influence to 
 them. To this Swift refers in these bitter lines : 
 
 Yet critics may object, why not ? 
 
 Since lice are brethren to a Scot ; 
 
 Which made our swarm of sects determine 
 
 Employments for their brother vermin. 
 
 But be they English, Irish, Scottish, 
 
 What Protestant can be so sottish. 
 
 While o'er the Church these clouds are gathering, 
 
 To call a swarm of lice his brethren ? 
 
 Let folks, in high* or holy stations. 
 Be proud of owning such relations ; 
 Let courtiers hug them in their bosom 
 As if they were afraid to lose 'em ; 
 While I, with humble Job, had rather 
 Say to Corruption, " Thou'rt my father,'' 
 For he that has so little wit 
 To nourish vermin may be bit. 
 
 Swift might be conquered, but would not capitu- 
 late, although he foresaw, with fatal clearness, the 
 Church's coming doom as a national institution in 
 Ireland; 
 
 * This refers to Wharton, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 63 
 
 During the Irish Church debate in the House of 
 Commons, Mr. Gladstone, speaking of Swift, said : 
 "This extraordinary man, even at the time when 
 he wrote that the Irish Catholics were so down- 
 trodden and insignificant that no possible change 
 could bring them into a position of importance, 
 appears to have foreseen the day when the ecclesias- 
 tical arrangements of Ireland would be called to 
 account, for he proceeds to provide for a time when 
 the Episcopal religion might be no longer the 
 national religion of the country." 
 
 In this admirable pamphlet there are many 
 masterly touches of irony. His contention is, that 
 the demand for the Test repeal was from the English, 
 not the Irish ministers, and intended to benefit the 
 English, not the Irish nation. He asks, with grave 
 irony, why the Irish should not willingly sacrifice 
 "themselves for the political conveniency of English 
 Whigs, and quotes, with point and power, the 
 exclamation of Cowley's abject lover : 
 
 Forbid it, heaven, my life should be 
 Weighed with thy least conveniency. 
 
 Why should not the Irish be willing to die to 
 oblige the English .'—although, perhaps, it might be 
 too much to expect them to be grateful for the 
 privilege of dying. 
 
 "If there be a fire at some distance, and I, 
 immediately, blow up my house before there be 
 occasion, because you are a man of quality, and 
 apprehend some danger to a corner of your stable ; 
 
64 SWIFT. 
 
 yet why should you require me to attend next 
 morning at your lev^e, with my humble thanks, for 
 the favour you have done me ? " 
 
 He also portrays with a master hand the contrast 
 between the wail for conscience of the Nonconformist 
 when down, with his shout for persecution when he 
 is up. "Where, then," he asks, "is this matter likely 
 to end, when the obtaining of one request is only 
 used as a step to demand another ? " The lover 
 portrayed by Swift is different from Cowley's : " A 
 lover is ever complaining of cruelty while anything 
 is denied him ; when the lady ceases to be cruel, she 
 is, from the next moment, at his mercy; so persecu- 
 tion, it seems, is everything that will not leave it in 
 men's power to persecute others." 
 
 " But to bring this discourse," says Swift, " to a 
 conclusion, we make a mighty difference here between 
 suffering thistles to grow amongst us, and wearing 
 them as posies. We are fully convinced in our 
 consciences that we shall always tolerate them, but 
 not quite so fully that they will always tolerate us, 
 when it comes to their turn ; and we are the majority 
 and we are in possession. 
 
 "Neither is it very difficult to conjecture, from 
 some late proceedings, at what a rate this faction 
 is likely to drive, wherever it gets the whip and the 
 seat. They have already set up courts of spiritual 
 judicature in open contempt of the laws ; they send 
 missionaries everywhere, without being invited, in 
 order to convert the Church of England folks to 
 Christianity, They are as vigilant, a"! I know who. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 65 
 
 to attend persons on their death-beds, and for 
 purposes much alike. And what practices such 
 principles as these (with many other that might be 
 invidious to mention) may spawn when they are laid 
 out to the sun, you may determine at leisure." 
 
 This pamphlet was received by the Irish nation 
 with rapturous applause. Even Presbyterians were 
 compelled to laugh at its scathing satire and masterly 
 irony, and applaud its genius. Swift had entirely 
 mistaken this question. His idea was to strengthen 
 and extend Protestantism. The only possible method 
 to accomplish this was co-operation with Presby- 
 terians, and this he rejected with infinite scorn. 
 
 This is still the question of the age. At the 
 Reformation so called — which, perhaps, was a mistake, 
 as a Reformation worthy of the name might have 
 been accomplished by a gentler and more effectual 
 policy — Protesters left the Communion of the Roman 
 Church in protest against her corruptions. Now we 
 have the pitiable spectacle of the Protesters protest- 
 ing against one another, to the infinite merriment of 
 Romanists. If Protestantism goes on as it is doing 
 now, in less than a century there will be only two 
 great streams, Romanism and Rationalism, into one 
 or other of which our sectarianisms must inevitably 
 
 drift : 
 
 Our little systems have their day ; 
 They have their day and cease to be. 
 
 In the year 1709, Swift published " A Project for 
 the Advancement of Religion and Reformation of 
 Manners," This most able and masterly production 
 
66 SWIFT. 
 
 has quite the ring of the nineteenth century literature 
 in it. Steele informs us that it was said by one in 
 company, alluding to that knowledge of the world 
 the author of this pamphlet seems to have: "The 
 man writes much like a gentleman, and goes to 
 heaven with a very good mien." 
 
 There is practical wisdom in his project, " That 
 some check should be placed on the practice of fraud 
 in the common callings of life. The vintner who, by 
 mixing poisons with his wines, destroys more lives 
 than any one disease in the bill of mortality ; the 
 lawyer who persuades you to a purchase which he 
 knows is mortgaged for more than the worth ; the 
 banker who takes your fortune to dispose of when he 
 has resolved to break the following day — do surely 
 deserve the gallows much better than the wretch 
 who is carried thither for stealing a horse." He 
 condemns and denounces that inscrutable gulf of 
 injustice and oppression the law, the detestable 
 abuses of electioneering, and the high-handed patron- 
 age in the Army, the Navy, and in the Civil Service, 
 without the least regard to merit or qualification. 
 As to the immoralities of the stage, his proposal to 
 appoint a censorship doubtless gave an impulse to 
 the appointment of such an office in after years. The 
 reformation of the stage, he held, was entirely in the 
 hands of the Queen, and suggests that a pension 
 would not be ill-employed on some men of wit, 
 learning, and virtue, who might have power to strike 
 out every offensive or unbecoming passage from 
 plays already written, as well as those that may be 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 67 
 
 offered to the stage for the future ; by which, and 
 other wise regulations, the theatre might become a 
 very innocent and useful diversion, instead of being a 
 scandal and reproach to our religion and country. 
 He has also a proposal for regulating the liquor 
 traffic. He ventures to say that it would be well to 
 have a law made that all taverns and alehouses 
 should be obliged to dismiss their company at twelve 
 at night and shut up their doors, and that no woman 
 should be suffered to enter any tavern or alehouse 
 upon any pretence whatever. It is easy to conceive 
 what a number of ill consequences such a law would 
 prevent — the mischiefs of quarrels and lewdness, 
 thefts and midnight brawls, the diseases of intemper- 
 ance, and a hundred other evils needless to mention. 
 Nor would it be amiss if the masters of those public- 
 houses were obliged, upon the severest penalties, to 
 give only a proportioned quantity of drink to every 
 company ; and when he found his guests disordered 
 with excess, to refuse them any more. This is the 
 nearest approach to the Permissive Bill, defined to be 
 " a simple little bill, meant to pass incog., to permit 
 me to prevent you from having your glass of grog." 
 Indeed, as a temperance reformer. Swift is in advance 
 of the present age. 
 
 As to vices in the Army, he says ; "\i swearing 
 and profaneness, scandalous and avowed lewdness, 
 excessive gaming and intemperance, were a little 
 discouraged in the Army, I cannot readily see what 
 ill consequence would be apprehended." 
 
 It is commonly charged upon the gentlemen of 
 
 F 2 
 
68 SWIFT. 
 
 the Army that the beastly vice of drinking to excess 
 has been lately, from their example, restored among 
 uSj which, for some years before, was almost dropped 
 in England. " This might soon be remediedj" he says, 
 " if the Queen would think fit to declare that no 
 young person of quality whatsoever, who was no- 
 toriously addicted to that, or any other vice, should 
 be capable of her favour, or even admitted into her 
 presence, with positive command to her ministers, 
 and others in great office, to treat them in the same 
 manner." 
 
 As to University discipline and reform, he is 
 thoroughly sound and practical. Indeed, the re- 
 formers in our University councils of the present day 
 might get admirable hints to help them in their 
 schemes of reformation. 
 
 His next proposal as to the sociality of the clergy 
 is thoroughly characteristic. He rebukes the clergy 
 for clustering together in their own clubs and coffee- 
 houses. "This behaviour of the clergy," he says, 
 " is just as reasonable as if the physicians should 
 agree to spend their time in visiting one another, 
 and leave their patients to shift for themselves." 
 In his opinion the clergy's business lies entirely with 
 the laity, neither is there a more effectual way of 
 saving men's souls than for spiritual persons to make 
 themselves as agreeable as they can in the conversa- 
 tions of the world, for which a learned education 
 gives them great advantage. This advice is sound 
 enough ; for Christianity is not like Judaism, separa- 
 tion from the world, but permeation in the world. I 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 69 
 
 suspect, however, that Swift meant this to be a 
 kind of apology for his own clerico-politico club and 
 State life which he himself lived. 
 
 His idea of the clerical dress is also characteristic. 
 Although Swift himself in London generally wore the 
 top-dressing of a clergyman, yet he gives his reasons 
 against the clergy wearing perpetually the clerical 
 dress. In his opinion, it was infinitely better that all the 
 clergy, except the bishops, were permitted to appear 
 like other men of the graver sort, unless at those 
 seasons when they are doing the business of their 
 functions. 
 
 " It would be endless," he says, " to mention 
 every corruption or defect which requires a remedy 
 from legislative power," and therefore will only mention 
 one more crying evil which he thinks the Parliament 
 ought to take under consideration ; " whether it 
 be not a shame to our country, and a scandal to 
 Christianity, that in many towns where there is a 
 prodigious increase in the number of houses and 
 inhabitants, so little care should be taken for the 
 building of churches that five parts in six of the 
 people are absolutely hindered from hearing Divine 
 service ? particularly here in London, where a single 
 minister, with one or two sorry curates, has the care 
 sometimes of above twenty thousand souls incumbent 
 on him" — a neglect of religion so ignominious, in 
 his opinion, that it can hardly be equalled in any 
 civilised age or country. This proposal of Swift 
 for Church extension came upon the nation with 
 great power. It stirred the bishops, first with anger 
 
70 SWIFT. 
 
 and then with zeal. It compelled the last Ministry 
 of Queen Anne to build in London alone above 
 fifty new churches. 
 
 At -first view, this pamphlet seems to have no 
 other drift than the improvement of the morality of 
 the nation. Yet those who are conversant with 
 Swift's style can read between the lines a covert but 
 powerful attack upon the Whigs. It was apparent to 
 the acute and penetrating mind of Swift that the 
 Queen was meditating a change of Ministry, and this 
 treatise was written expressly to confirm the wavering 
 mind of Her Majesty; and nothing could be better 
 calculated to make an impression upon the weak but 
 religious mind of the Queen. Swift contrived that 
 the pamphlet should be inscribed anonymously, as 
 from a disinterested party, to his friend, the Countess 
 of Berkeley, who adored him, and that through her 
 hands it should filter into the ears of her Royal 
 mistress. He proceeds, in the most insidious way, 
 yet in the most graceful language ever penned, to 
 tell the Queen her duty. The chief remedy was for 
 the Queen to employ none in her Ministry, or in any 
 office about her person, but such as had the cause of 
 religion at heart. This was meant as a stroke at 
 Godolphin and others of the Ministry, who had yet 
 their religion to choose. This was an insidious way 
 of saying that she should begin by turning out the 
 Whigs, or Low Church party, who professed either an 
 indifference or contempt of religion, and select her 
 Ministry from among the Tories, whose watchword 
 was " Church and State." 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 71 
 
 This pamphlet was one of the subtle forces which 
 created a strong dissatisfaction against the Govern- 
 ment, and which, with the prosecution of the famous 
 preacher Sacheverell, overturned the Whig Adminis- 
 tration. After the publication of this treatise, 
 which he left to simmer with the Queen and the 
 nation. Swift returned to his snug Irish rectory at 
 Laracor, to watch the gathering political storm, 
 which eventually overwhelmed the Whig Government. 
 
 In the month of May of this year the first 
 great sorrow of his life befell him. His mother died. 
 "I have now," he pathetically writes, "lost my 
 barrier between me and death. God grant I may 
 live to be as well prepared for it as I confidently 
 believe her to have been. If the way to heaven be 
 through piety and truth, justice and charity, she is 
 there." 
 
 At this juncture the Irish bishops elect him to 
 manage their first-fruit business with the Government 
 
 Swift was still, at this period, the ostensible 
 champion of the Whig Government, but on account 
 of his High Church proclivities, he was not wholly 
 to their liking. Hitherto the Whig leaders had 
 rewarded him only with good words, and had be- 
 stowed their good things on followers more wholly 
 their own. 
 
 Swift was now more than doubtful of preferment 
 from them. Although they still plied him with 
 splendid promises, he knew their value, as appears 
 from his endorsement on the following letter received 
 from Lord Halifax, dated October 6, 1709: 
 
72 SWIFT. 
 
 " I am quite ashamed for myself and friends to 
 see you left in a place so incapable of testing you, and 
 to see so much merit and so great qualities unrewarded 
 by those who are sensible of them. Mr. Addison and 
 I are entered into a new confederacy never to give 
 over the pursuit, nor to cease reminding those who 
 can serve you, till your worth is placed in that light it 
 ought to shine. Dr. South holds out still, but he 
 cannot be immortal. The situation of his Prebend 
 would make me doubly concerned in serving you ; 
 and upon all occasions that shall offer I will be your 
 constant solicitor, your sincere admirer, and your 
 unalterable friend. I am your most humble and 
 obedient servant, 
 
 (Signed) " Halifax." 
 
 Thus it was endorsed by Swift ; " I kept this 
 letter as a true original of, courtiers and Court 
 promises." And in the first page of a small book 
 he wrote these memorable words : " Given me by 
 my Lord Halifax, May 3, 1709. I begged it of him, 
 and desired him to remember it was the only favour 
 I ever received from him or his party." 
 
 Swift was living at his Laracor rectory during 
 the greater part of Lord Wharton's Administration, 
 but saw him seldom. He declined all invitations to 
 visit him. He could have had Church preferment 
 from his lordship ; but it is on record th,at he 
 refused to accept it at the hands of such a man — 
 a man of no principle. 
 
 Swift spent much of his time with Addison, the 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 73 
 
 Secretary of Ireland, with whom he was on terms 
 of the greatest intimacy; but hated the Lord 
 Lieutenant. This antipathy arose from the fact 
 that his lordship gave his influence to the Dis- 
 senters — not as a religionist (for he believed that 
 all religions were equally false and equally useful), 
 but as a politician. Swift, on the other hand, de- 
 tested Dissenters, not so much from a sectarian point 
 of view, but because he believed them dangerous 
 to the State. 
 
 From Swift's close intimacy with Addison, he 
 was a witness to Wharton's corrupt Administration, 
 which, by - and - by, he exposed to the world in 
 scathing language. 
 
 At this epoch, Swift still stands before Church 
 and State a kind of Egyptian hieroglyphic, which 
 they could not decipher. A High Church Whig was 
 not intelligible by politicians. That the author of 
 the "Tub" could be a Christian, a clergyman, and 
 a Whig was not intelligible by the Church. Yet 
 there he was, the greatest power in both. They 
 might not love him ; but they were bound to fear 
 him, and glad to make use of him in their first- 
 fruit business. 
 
 This was a work for which he had little liking ; 
 but out of love to the Church he undertook it. His 
 commission was signed and sealed in August, and 
 on the 1st of September he set out for London. 
 
 In further telling the story of Swift's political 
 life I shall quote largely from his Journal to Stella, 
 the most wonderful the world has ever seen, in 
 
74 SWIFT. 
 
 confirmation and illustration of his characteristics, 
 during the latter years of Queen Anne's reign. 
 
 Swift left Ireland, for England, in the Lord 
 Lieutenant's yacht, on the ist of September, 1710. 
 At Chester he got a fall from his horse, but no hurt ; 
 the horse understanding falls very well, and lying 
 quietly till he got up. He reached London, after 
 five days' travel — weary the first, almost dead the 
 second, tolerable the third, and well enough the 
 rest, and glad of the fatigue which served for 
 exercise. 
 
 The Whigs were ravished to see him, and would 
 lay hold on him as a twig while they were drowning. 
 The chief men of the party made to him their 
 clumsy apologies. But Lord Treasurer Godolphin 
 received him with stiff coldness, which so enraged 
 him that he left the house almost vowing vengeance. 
 Political affairs were topsy-turvy. " Every Whig in 
 great office, to a man, will infallibly be turned out," 
 he says, and predicts such a winter as has not been 
 seen in England. 
 
 September 10. — He dines with Lord Mountjoy 
 at Kensington. Sat till ten in the evening with 
 Addison and Steele. At ten went to the coffee 
 house, hoping to find Lord Radnor. He was there 
 for an hour and a half, talked treason with him 
 heartily against the Whigs, their baseness, and in- 
 gratitude. He comes home, rolling resentments in 
 his mind, and framing schemes of revenge, full of 
 which — having written down some — goes to bed. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 75, 
 
 September 16. — Sir John Holland, Comptroller of 
 the Household, has sent to desire his acquaintance ; 
 but Swift has a mind to refuse him, because he is a 
 Whig. 
 
 September 19. — To-day he heard the report of 
 removals. My Lord President Somers, the Duke of 
 Devonshire, Lord Steward, and Mr. Boyle, Secretary 
 of State, are all turned out to-day. Never can he 
 remember of such bold steps being taken by a Court. 
 He is almost shocked at it, though he did not care 
 if they were all hanged. 
 
 September 21. — This night the Parliament is 
 dissolved. 
 
 September 30. — The Whigs make to him a lament- 
 able confession of his ill usage, but he minds them 
 not. He is already represented to Harley as a 
 discontented person that was ill used fof not being 
 Whig enough, and he hopes for good usage from him. 
 The Tories drily tell him he may make his fortune, 
 if he please ; but he does not understand them, or 
 rather he does understand them. 
 
 October i. — He has alm.ost finished his lampoon, 
 and will print it for revenge on a certain great person 
 — the Earl of Godolphin. 
 
 October 2. — Dined to-day with Lord Halifax at 
 Hampton Court. Halifax began a health. It was 
 the resurrection of the Whigs, which Swift refused 
 to drink unless he would add their reformation, too, 
 and told him that he was the only Whig in Englaiid 
 that he loved or had any good opinion of. 
 
 October},. — Evening. After he had put out his 
 
76 SWIFT. 
 
 candle, his landlady came into his room with a 
 servant of Lord Halifax to desire he would dine 
 with him next night at Hampton Court, but he 
 sent him word he had business of great importance 
 that hindered him. 
 
 October 4. — To-day he is brought privately to 
 Mr. Harley, who received him with the greatest 
 respect and kindness imaginable. Appointed him an 
 hour on Saturday afternoon, when he will open his 
 business to him. 
 
 October 7. — Jack How told Harley that if there 
 
 were a lower place in H than another, it was 
 
 reserved for his porter, who told lies so gravely and 
 with so civil a manner. This porter Swift had to deal 
 with going this evening to visit Mr. Harley by his own 
 appointment ; but the fellow told him no lie, though 
 he suspected every word he said. Mr. Harley came 
 out to him, brought him in, and presented him to 
 his son-in-law. Lord Doblane, or some such name, 
 and his own son, and, among others. Will Penn the 
 Quaker. They sat two hours drinking wine, and two 
 hours more he and Harley alone ; when he heard 
 him tell his first-fruit business, entered into it with all 
 kindness. Asked for his powers and read them, and 
 read likewise a memorial he had drawn up and put in 
 his pocket to show the Queen. Told him the measures 
 he would take, and, in short, said everything he 
 could wish. Told him he must bring St. John, 
 Secretary of State, and him acquainted, and spoke so 
 many things of personal kindness and esteem for him, 
 that he is inclined half to believe what some friends had 
 
THE POLITICIAN. "JJ 
 
 told him, that he would do everything to bring him 
 over. He desired him to dine with him on Tuesday. 
 " They may talk," says Swift, " of you know what ; 
 but Gadj if it had not been for that, I should never 
 have been able to get the access I have had, and 
 if that helps me to succeed, then that same thing 
 will be serviceable to the Church." These words 
 undoubtedly refer to some particular publication of 
 Swift's, for which he supposes the Ministers to court 
 him. This we know for certain, that, in after days, 
 the Ministry freely acknowledged that he was the only 
 man in England they were afraid of. Still Swift is 
 suspicious. How far he must depend upon new 
 friends he had learned by long experience; though 
 he thinks among great Ministers they are just as good 
 as old ones. 
 
 October 8. — Harley showed him a great piece of 
 refinement. He charged him to come to him often. 
 Swift told him he was loth to trouble him in so much 
 business as he had, and desired that he might have 
 leave to come to his lev^e, which he immediately 
 refused, and said that was not a place for friends to 
 come to. 
 
 October lo. — Dined with Mr. Harley to-day, who 
 presented him to the Attorney-General, with much 
 compliment on all sides. Harley told him that he 
 had shown his memorial to the Queen, and seconded 
 it very heartily, and desired him to dine with him 
 again on Sunday, when he promises to settle it with 
 Her Majesty before she names a Lord Lieutenant for 
 Ireland ; for he loves the Church, and would not have 
 
78 SWIFT. 
 
 a Governor to share in the popularity of this Act. 
 Besides, Swift is told on all hands that Harley has a 
 mind of his own. 
 
 October I ^. — Lord Halifax is always teasing him 
 to go down to his country house, which will cost him 
 a guinea to his servants and twelve shillings coach- 
 hire, and he shall be hanged first. He is vexed at 
 heart for Harrison, for he loves the young fellow, 
 and has resolved to stir up people to do something 
 for him. Harrison is a Whig, and he will put him 
 upon some of his cast Whigs, for he has done with 
 them, and he hopes that they have done with this 
 kingdom for our time. 
 
 October 14. — He stands with the new people ten 
 times better than ever he did with the old, and forty 
 times more caressed. He has to dine to-morrow at 
 Harley's, and if he continues as he has begun no man 
 has been better treated by another. 
 
 October 15. — Dined to-day with Harley. Prior 
 dined with them. Harley has left Swift's memorial 
 with the Queen, who has consented to give the first- 
 fruits and twentieth parts, and will declare it to- 
 morrow in the Cabinet ; but is ordered to tell it to 
 no person alive until it appears in public. 
 
 Swift, amidst- his political and controversial activi- 
 ties, was not forgetful of his commission from the 
 Irish Convocation regarding the first-fruit business. 
 He was not faithless to his trust. The grant had 
 been long and earnestly interceded for from the 
 late Ministry, but all in vain. The Tory Govern- 
 ment understood Swift's power and appreciated his 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 79 
 
 genius and friendship, and at once acceded to his 
 request. 
 
 At this crisis the Irish prelates were guilty of 
 ungenerous conduct towards Swift, which disgusted 
 and enraged him. They seemed to think that from 
 his intimacy with the Whig party he could not 
 be an influential advocate on their behalf with the 
 Tory Administration, and accordingly recalled his 
 commission and transferred it to the Duke of Ormond. 
 Alluding to this. Swift writes to Stella : " Never fear, 
 I an't vexed at this puppy business of the bishops', 
 although I was a little at first. I will tell you my 
 reward : Mr. Harley will think he has done me a 
 favour ; the Duke of Ormond, perhaps, that I 
 have put a neglect on him ; and the bishops in Ire- 
 land, that I have done nothing at all. So goes the 
 world. But I have got above all this, and perhaps I 
 have better reason for it than they know ; and so you 
 shall hear no more of first-fruits, Dukes, Harleys, 
 Archbishops, and Southwells." 
 
 The Irish bishops, however, must not be too 
 severely blamed. They were naturally dull of under- 
 standing, and politically slow of intelligence. As 
 appears from the following record in the Journal to 
 Stella, the first-fruit business was already settled 
 through Swift's influence, but they did not know of it. 
 " October 21. — I dined this day with Mr. Harley, 
 who presented me to the Earl of Sterling, a Scotch 
 lord ; and in the evening came in Lord Peterborow. 
 I staid till nine before Mr. Harley would let me go, 
 or tell me anything of my affair. He says, the 
 
So SWIFT. 
 
 queen has now granted the first-fruits and twentieth 
 parts ; but he will not yet give me leave to write to 
 the archbishop, because the queen designs to signify 
 it to the bishops in Ireland, in form, and to take 
 notice, that it was done upon a memorial from me, 
 which Mr. Harley tells me he does to make it look 
 more respectful to me, etc. I believe never any- 
 thing was compassed so soon, and purely done by 
 my personal credit with Mr. Harley, who is so exces- 
 sively obliging that I know not what to make of it, 
 unless to show the rascals of the other party that 
 they used a man unworthily who had deserved 
 better." 
 
 Little did the Irish bishops know that Swift's 
 genius had helped to overwhelm the late Govern- 
 ment, and was keeping the present in power. After 
 they really knew how matters stood, they did their 
 little best to make amends to him. It is amusing to 
 read the awkward apologies which the Archbishop 
 made to Swift, totally unconscious that he was adding 
 insult to injury. In a curiously apologetic, yet 
 patronising, letter the Archbishop advises Swift to 
 use his power with the Ministry to get preferment in 
 the Church, and direct his genius from literature and 
 politics to the study of theology, and so manage it as 
 to be of use to the Church and the world. Swift, in 
 the hurry of politics, sends him in reply a bitter, 
 biting letter, which, doubtless, must have made the 
 poor Archbishop wince. He tells him that however 
 much he may have used his influence for others, he 
 would never do so on his own behalf; that prefer- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 8i 
 
 ment must come from the Ministry spontaneously, as 
 a debt of gratitude, and not by solicitation ; that to 
 advise him to be useful to the Church by his writings, 
 when his own fate was totally uncertain, was to ask a 
 man floating at sea what he meant to do when he 
 came ashore. Spite of these little bickerings and 
 misunderstandings. Swift withal liked the Arch- 
 bishop and often befriended him. On one occasion, 
 when his Grace had incautiously applied a quotation 
 from the story of Piso in Tacitus to the wound 
 which Harley received from Guiscard, which was 
 likely to bring the Archbishop into trouble with the 
 Ministry, Swift used his authority with them to set 
 him right. We cannot wonder, however, that when 
 the Premier gave Swift the honour of announcing, 
 through the Archbishop, to the clergy of Ireland, 
 that the Queen had remitted their first-fruits, that he 
 sh(Suld add, "and I also remit your first-fruits of 
 ingratitude." 
 
 We shall proceed with the narrative. 
 
 November 7. — Was a thanksgiving day, and Swift 
 was at Court. The Queen passed by with all Tories 
 about her. Not one Whig, and he has seen her 
 without one Tory. He does not miss the " Wiggs " at 
 Court, but has as many friends there as formerly. 
 
 November 8. — He asks Stella, who was never im- 
 maculate in her spelling, who are those Wiggs that 
 think he has turned Tory. " Do you mean Whigs ? 
 Which wiggs ? And what do you mean 1 " 
 
 Harley speaks all the kind things to him in the 
 world, and believes he would serve him if he would 
 
 G 
 
82 SWIFT. 
 
 stay. Why should the Whigs think that he came to 
 England to leave them ? Sure his journey was no 
 secret. He protests that he did all he could • to 
 hinder it, although now he does not repent it. 
 But who the devil cares what they think? Is he 
 under obligations in the least to any of them all .-' 
 Rot them for ungrateful dogs. He will make them 
 repent their usage before he leave this place. 
 
 November ii. — Dined to day, by invitation, with 
 the Secretary of State, Mr. St. John, who treated 
 him with great kindness. He thinks what a venera- 
 tion they used to have for Sir William Temple, 
 because he niight have been Secretary of State at 
 fifty, and here is a young fellow hardly thirty in that 
 employment. St. John told him, among other things, 
 that Mr. Harley complained that he could keep 
 nothing from Swift, he had such a way of getting in 
 to him. 
 
 November 30. — Does Patrick write word of my 
 not coming till spring? Indolent man; he knows 
 my secrets ! No, as my Lord Mayor said : " No, if 
 that I thought my shirt knew," etc. He is at 
 present, however, a little involved with the present 
 Ministry in some certain things. As soon as ever he 
 can. clear his hands he will stay no longer. But the 
 present Ministry have a difficult task, and want him. 
 Perhaps they may be just as ungrateful as others ; 
 but, according to his judgment, they are pursuing the 
 true interests of the public, and therefore he is glad 
 to contribute whatever is in his power. For G — 's 
 sake, not a word of this to any alive. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 83 
 
 December 14. — Harley and St. John are resolved 
 that he preach before the Queen, and the Secretary 
 of State has told him that he will give him three 
 weeks' warning ; but he desired to be excused, which 
 he will not. St. John : " You shall not be excused." 
 However, he hopes they will forget it, for should it 
 happen, -all the puppies hereabouts will throng to 
 hear him, and be plaguily balked, for he will preach 
 plain, honest stuff. The Ministry, however, never 
 could prevail upon Swift to preach before the Queen. 
 
 December 22. — At night he went to Mr. Harley's 
 lev^e; he came and asked him what had he to do 
 there, and bid him come and dine with him at a 
 family dinner, which he did ; and it was the first 
 time he ever saw his lady and daughter. 
 
 December 31. — Early this morning with Secretary 
 St. John. He told him he had been with the Duke 
 of Marlborough, who was lamenting his former 
 wrong steps in joining with the Whigs, and said he 
 was worn out with age, fatigues, and misfortunes. 
 He is as covetous as hell, and as ambitious as the 
 prince of it. He would fain have been General for 
 life, and has broken all endeavours for peace to keep 
 his greatness and get money. He told the Queen 
 he was neither covetous nor ambitious. She said if 
 she could have conveniently turned about she would 
 have laughed, and could hardly forbear it in his face. 
 O Lord, smoke the politics to M.D. Well, but if you 
 like them, he will scatter a httle now and then ; and 
 his are all fresh from the chief hands. 
 
 January 7. — The Ministry hear him always with 
 
 G 2 
 
84 SWIFT. 
 
 appearance of regard and much kindness ; but thinks 
 that they let personal quarrels mingle too much with 
 their proceedings. Meantime, they seem to value all 
 this as nothing, and are as easy and merry as if they 
 had nothing in their hearts or upon their shoulders, 
 like physicians who endeavour to cure but feel no 
 grief, whatever the patient suffers. Pshaw ! what is 
 all this ? 
 
 January 13. — When Mr. St. John was turned 
 out from being Secretary of War three years ago, he 
 retired to the country. There he was talking of 
 something he would have written over the summer- 
 house, and a gentleman gave him these verses : 
 
 From business and the noisy world retired. 
 Nor vex'd by love, nor by ambition fir'd, 
 Gently I wait the call of Charon's boat, 
 Still drinking like a fish, and — like a goat. 
 
 St, John swore to Swift he could hardly bear the 
 jest. The thing was true, for St. John had been a 
 thorough rake. O'd so ! but he will go to sleep. 
 He sleeps early now. 
 
 January 16. — Farewell, dearest beloved M.D., and 
 love poor, poor Presto, who has not had one happy 
 day since he left you, as hope saved. It is the last 
 sally he will ever make, but he hopes it will turn 
 to some account. He has done more for these, and 
 he thinks they are more honest than the last ; how- 
 ever, he will not be disappointed. He would make 
 M.D. and himself easy, and he never desired more. 
 Farewell ! Presto's at home, God help him, every night 
 from six till bedtime, and has as little enjoyment 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 8; 
 
 or pleasure in life at present as anybody in the world, 
 although in full favour with all the Ministry. 
 
 January 24. — As for his old friends, if Stella 
 means the Whigs, he never sees them, except Lord 
 Halifax, and him very seldom ; Lord Somers never 
 since the first visit, for he has been a false, deceitful 
 rascal. His new friends are very kind, and he has 
 promises enough, but he does not count upon them ; 
 and besides, his pretences are very young to them. 
 However, they will see what may be done, and if 
 nothing at all, he shall not be disappointed ; although 
 perhaps poor M.D. may, and then he shall be sorrier 
 for their sakes than for his own. 
 
 January 31. — He was early this morning with 
 Mr. Secretary St. John. They are here intending to 
 tax all little printed penny papers a halfpenny every 
 half-sheet, which will utterly ruin Grub Street, and 
 he is endeavouring to prevent it. Besides, he was 
 forwarding an impeachment against a certain great 
 person ; that was two of his businesses with the 
 Secretary. Were they not worthy ones? It was 
 Ford's birthday, and he refused the Secretary and 
 dined with Ford. 
 
 February 4. — He has represented Addison so to 
 the Ministry that they think and talk in his favour, 
 though they hated him before. Well, he is now in 
 my debt, and there is an end ; and I never had the 
 least obligation to him, and there is another end. 
 
 February 5. — At night Harley did not sit down 
 till six, and he stayed till eleven; henceforth he 
 will choose to visit him in the evening, and dine with 
 
86 SWIFT. 
 
 him no more if he can help it. It breaks all his 
 measures and hurts his health. His head is dis- 
 (M-derly but not ill, and he hopes it will mend. 
 
 February 6. — Mr. Harley desired he would dine 
 with him again to-day ; but he refused him, for he 
 fell out with him yesterday, and will not see him 
 again till he makes me amends; and so he goes 
 to bed. 
 
 February 7. — He was this morning early with Mr. 
 Lewis of the Secretary's office, and saw a letter Mr. 
 Harley had sent to him, desiring to be reconciled ; 
 but he was deaf to all entreaties, and desired Lewis 
 to go to him, and let him know he expects farther 
 satisfaction. 
 
 If we let these great Ministers pretend too much, 
 there will be no governing them. He promises to 
 make me easy, if I will but come and see him ; but 
 I will not, and he shall do it by message, or I will 
 cast him off. — This was sending Swift a fifty pound 
 bank-note, which he refused with scorn, reminding 
 us of the sturdy independence of Johnson in his 
 college days at Oxford, when he flung away with 
 indignation the shoes which kindness, if not con- 
 sideration, had placed at his chamber door, preferring 
 his own tattered shoes to the presented shoes of 
 another man, no matter how fine soever they might 
 be. So with Swift. He would return from the 
 Premier's luxurious dinner-party to his lodgings, of 
 eight shillings a week, and to save his bushel of 
 coals pick them off the fire, which Patrick, the 
 extravagant whelp, had placed there in anticipation 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 87 
 
 of his master's home-coming, yet the while be ruler 
 of the British nation. This is the man who writes 
 to Stella : " I have taken Mr. Harley into favour 
 again. If Swift is to associate with the Ministry, 
 he must do it on terms of perfect equality, if not 
 something more." In this resolution there was 
 philosophy as well as dignity — independence being 
 necessary to genuine friendship. 
 
 February 12. — He went to the Court of Requests 
 at noon, and sent Mr. Harley into the House to call 
 the Secretary to let him know he would not dine 
 with him if he dined late. 
 
 Most of Swift's biographers abuse him for 
 what they call a childish piece of insolence, 
 to stop for a time the business of the nation 
 by calling out the principal Secretary of State 
 on such a frivolous pretext. They do Swift 
 injustice in this. The brilliant St. John loved Swift 
 mightily. His dinner-party was not complete with- 
 out him. That evening he wished especially to have 
 his presence, but Swift, at this time, on account of 
 his head, had given up late dinners. Six weeks before 
 this he writes in his Journal to Stella : "January 4. — 
 This evening I had a message from Mr. Harley, 
 desiring to know whether I was alive, and that I 
 would dine with him to-morrow. They dine so late, 
 that since my head has been wrong I have avoided 
 being with them." Again, on February 13, the very 
 day after he had called the Secretary out of the 
 House, he writes to Stella : " I have taken Mr. Harley 
 into favour again, and called to see him. I will use 
 
88 SWIFT. 
 
 to visit him after dinner, for he dines too late for my 
 head." 
 
 This act of Swift's, therefore, which most of his 
 biographers have characterised as domineering 
 rudeness, was really an act of the most delicate 
 politeness. After invitation, he went, at the earliest 
 moment, at noon, to explain to his friend Boling- 
 broke how matters stood, and to give him the option 
 to alter the dinner-hour or want his company. 
 
 Nor was Swift without hope that the dinner-hour 
 would be arranged to suit his convenience, as St. 
 John was master of his own house. With Harley, the 
 Premier, it was different ; like other Prime Ministers 
 of recent date, he, although ostensibly ruler of the 
 nation, was ruled by his wife ; but St. John had his 
 well in hand, and, doubtless, in this matter, was 
 willing to accommodate Swift. 
 
 Nor was the giving up of late State dinners any 
 sacrifice to Swift. He enjoyed good wine, but cared 
 nothing for good eating. Swift describes his manner 
 of living in these satiric lines : 
 
 On rainy days alone I dine 
 
 Upon a chick and pint of wine ; 
 
 On rainy days I dine alone, 
 
 And pick my chicken to the bone ; 
 
 But this my servants much enrages. 
 
 No scraps remain to save board wages. 
 
 Swift, having taken Harley into favour again, is 
 invited by the Premier to the Cabinet dinner-party, 
 consisting of the Lord Treasurer, the. Lord Keeper, 
 the Secretary St. John, and Swift. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 8^ 
 
 February 17. — They all dined togetherj and sat 
 down at four. Swift told them he had no hopes 
 they would ever keep in, but that he saw they loved 
 one another. "They call me," says he, " nothing but 
 Jonathan ; and I said I believed they would leave me 
 Jonathan as they found me ; and that I never knew a 
 Ministry do anything for those whom they make 
 companions of their pleasures ; and I believe you will 
 find it so ; but I care not." These words were 
 strangely prophetical. Truly the Ministry did little 
 for Swift, although he did so much for them. 
 
 The first important work which the Ministry gave 
 him was to conduct The Examiner, a weekly paper 
 in defence of the Government. How well he did his 
 work The Examiner to this day testifies ! This 
 paper was started by the Tories in August, 1710. 
 The principal writers were St, John, Atterbury, 
 Priorj and others of smaller note. Its object was to 
 impugn the doings of the late Government and to 
 defend the Tories. Shortly after this paper was 
 launched, the Whig Examiner appeared. It was 
 conducted by Addison, Steele, and a host of other 
 able writers. Doubtless, it had the preponderance of 
 talent. The Tories were being fairly mauled. No 
 sooner, however, was it mooted that Swift was about 
 to enter the arena to wield the club of political 
 controversy against the Whigs, than Addison and 
 Steele judiciously threw down their pen, and the 
 Whig Examiner was no more ; or, as Swift phrased 
 it to Stella, "it was down among the dead men." No 
 wonder that Harley, the Premier, remarked that the 
 
90 SWIFT. 
 
 only man in England the Ministry were afraid of 
 was Swift. To have secured such a man, able to 
 ■combat and overthrow such men as Addison and 
 Steele, was for the Ministry of that day what the 
 miraculous advent of a new Times, antipodal to the 
 old in all but talent, would now be to an Adminis- 
 tration powerfully assailed by that journal. 
 
 Now, admit Swift's indispensableness to the 
 Ministry, and it follows that he had it in his power 
 to determine the kind of reward that should be his. 
 What did he really want ? To be a bishop. That 
 was the dream of his life. But, from the excess of 
 his genius, that was next to impossible. Everything 
 in the world has its price. Pay the price and it is 
 yours. The price of a bishopric for Swift was — a 
 penitential renunciation of the past by crying over 
 " The Tale of a Tub," peccavi ; a cautious restraint 
 for the future of his pen and his tongue ; a conquer- 
 ing for the present of his High Church Toryism ; and 
 he would have risen and sat down a mitred Peer in 
 Parliament. This price, the sacrifice of his manhood, 
 was too much for Jonathan Swift to pay. He re- 
 tained his manhood and sacrificed a bishopric. The 
 gates of glory opened as the gates of a bishopric 
 closed. 
 
 The next significant work that fell to the lot of 
 Swift was to quell the October Club. 
 
 The members of this club were Tory parlia- 
 mentary malcontents. To understand their grievance 
 it is necessary to remember that the Ministry were 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 91 
 
 called into power, not so much because they were 
 Tories, but capable men able to manage the business 
 of the nation. They were not extreme party men. 
 They were what we might call modern Conserva- 
 tives. At the dictation of Swift they retained in 
 office some of the minor Secretaries of State. This 
 gave mortal offence to the old inveterate Tories. 
 This party, in order to bring pressure to bear on the 
 Ministry, formed themselves into a club called " The 
 October." Swift's description of it to Stella is a 
 graphic one : 
 
 "February 18. — We are plagued here with an Oc- 
 tober Club ; that is, a set of above a hundred Parlia- 
 ment men of the country who drink October beer at 
 home and meet every evening at a tavern near the 
 Parliament, to consult affairs and drive things on to 
 extremes against the Whigs, to call the old Ministry 
 to account, and get off five or six heads. The 
 Ministry seem not to regard them, yet one of them, 
 in confidence, told me that there must be something 
 thought on to settle things better. . . . The Ministry 
 is for gentler measures, and the other Tories for more 
 violent. Lord Rivers, talking to me the other day, 
 cursed the paper called The Examiner for speaking 
 civilly of the Duke of Marlborough ; this I happpened 
 to talk of to the Secretary, who blamed the warmth 
 of that Lord, and some others, and swore that if their 
 advice were followed they would be blown up in 
 twenty-four hours." 
 
 Shortly after this Swift writes to Stella that "Lord 
 Compton desired, in the name of the October Club 
 
92 SWIFT. 
 
 that I should do them the honour to dine with theiHr 
 I sent my excuses, adorned with about thirty compli- 
 ments, and got off. It would have been a most 
 improper thing for me to dine there, considering my 
 friendship for the Ministry." Swift advised the Ministry 
 not to ignore but to acknowledge and sanction the 
 club. He even prevailed with them to send a repre- 
 sentative to take part in their deliberations. A crisis 
 soon came when the Ministry must either extinguish 
 the club or be themselves extinguished by it. Swift 
 once more stepped into the arena as champion of the 
 Ministry. He did his work against the members of 
 the club in the most subtle and powerful way. He 
 softened them by compliments, he convinced them 
 by arguments, he irritated them by jealousies, and 
 dispersed them at each other's throats. Thus ended 
 the famous October Club. 
 
 There was another difficulty at this time with 
 which the Ministry had to contend. The Queen was 
 uncontrollable. Queen Anne of blessed memory, 
 like many another Queen before and since, had a 
 stubborn will. In relating this difficulty to Stella, 
 Swift says : " I will tell you one great State secret ; 
 the Queen, sensible how much she was governed 
 by the late Ministry, runs a little into the other ex- 
 treme, and is jealous, on that point, even of those 
 who got her out of the others' hands. And I have 
 reason to think that they will endeavour to prevail 
 on the Queen to put her affairs more into the hands 
 of a Ministry than she does at present. And there 
 
THE POLITICIAN. <)3 
 
 are, I believe, two men thought on, one of them you 
 have often met the name of in my letters." But so 
 much for politics. The endeavour was in vain. Her 
 Majesty still continued to be governed by back-stair 
 influence and intrigue. She refused to be wholly 
 governed by the Ministry, as Swift knew to his cost. 
 Could the Ministry have controlled her. Swift had 
 died a spiritual Peer. 
 
 Swift is now a Tory chief; a Cabinet Minister 
 without a portfolio; their ablest and most powerful 
 defender. Nay, he was more. In the language of 
 the Premier, he was their governor. In his inter- 
 course with the Ministry, Swift was fearlessly honest 
 in his counsel. 
 
 He writes to Stella : " I forgot to tell you that I 
 was at Mr. Harley's lev^e ; he swore I came in spite 
 to see him among a parcel of fools. He ' engaged 
 me to dine with him to-day. Every Saturday Lord 
 Keeper, Secretary St. John, and I dine with him, and 
 sometimes Lord Rivers, and they let in none else. 
 
 " I stayed with Mr. Harley till past nine, when 
 we had much discourse together, after the rest were 
 gone, and I gave him very truly my opinion where he 
 desired it." 
 
 March 4. — He dined to-day with Mr. Secretary 
 St. John, and after dinner he had a note from Mr. 
 Harley that he was much out of order ; " pray God 
 preserve his health, everything depends upon it. The 
 Parliament at present cannot go a step without him, 
 nor the Queen neither," 
 
94 SWIFT. 
 
 At this crisis Swift wrote to Harley's physician : 
 
 On Britain Europe's safety lies, . 
 Britain is lost if Harley dies ; 
 Harley depends upon your skill, 
 Think what you save, or what you kill. 
 
 " I long to be in Ireland ; but the Ministry beg me 
 to stay;" however, when this Parliament hurry is over, 
 he will endeavour to steal away. In the following 
 memorable words he shows how acute and far- 
 sighted he was as a politician, and how well adapted 
 he was to be the guide and counsellor of the Ministry: 
 " We must have peace, let it be a bad or a good one, 
 though nobody dares talk of it. The nearer I look 
 upon things, the worse I like them. I believe the 
 confederacy will soon break to pieces, and our factions 
 at home increase. The Ministry is upon a very narrow 
 bottom, and stand like an isthmus between the Whigs 
 on the one side and violent Tories* on the other. They 
 are able seamen, but the tempest is too great, the ship 
 too rotten, and the crew all against them, ... I 
 could talk till to-morrow upon these things, but they 
 make me melancholy. I could not but observe that 
 lately, after much conversation with Mr. Harley, 
 though he is the most fearless man alive, and the 
 least apt to despond, he confessed to me that 
 uttering his mind to me gave him ease. Need we 
 wonder ? " 
 
 In his dealings with the Ministry, Swift was not 
 merely faithful in counsel but also in rebuke. 
 
 * The October Club. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. gj 
 
 April I. — At dinner this evening with Secretary 
 St. John, Swift noticed that he was absent and silent ; 
 and Prior, who was also present, thought so too. 
 
 April 3. — He called at Mr. Secretary's to see 
 
 what the d ailed him onSunday. " I made him a 
 
 very proper speech, told him I observed he was much 
 out of temper, that I did not expect he would tell 
 me the cause, but would be glad to see he was in 
 better; and one thing I warned him of, never to 
 appear cold to me, for I would not be treated like a 
 schoolboy; that I had felt too much of that in my 
 life already (meaning Sir William Temple) ; that I 
 expected every great Minister who honoured me 
 with his acquaintance, if he heard or saw anything 
 to my disadvantage, would let me know in plain 
 words, and not put me in pain to guess by the 
 change or coldness of his countenance or behaviour; 
 for it was what I would hardly bear from a crowned 
 head, and I thought no subject's favour was worth it ; 
 and that I designed to let my Lord Keeper and 
 Mr. Harley know the same thing, that they might 
 use me accordingly. He took all right; said I had 
 reason ; vowed nothing ailed him but sitting up 
 whole nights at business and one night at drinking ; 
 would have had me dined with him ... to make up 
 matters, but I would not." 
 
 How St. John's ears must have tingled as he 
 listened to Swift setting him right on a matter 
 of etiquette. He appeals to Stella for approval of 
 his rebuke to St. John. 
 
 "Why, I think what I said to Mr, Secretary was 
 
96 SWIFT. 
 
 right. Don't you remember how I used to be in 
 pain when Sir William Temple would look cold and 
 out of humour for three or four days, and I used to 
 suspect a hundred reasons ? I have plucked up my 
 spirit since then, faith ; he spoiled a fine gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "April 12. — I went about noon to the Secretary, 
 who is very ill with a cold, and sometimes of the 
 gravel, with his champagne, etc. I scolded him like 
 a dog, and he promises faithfully more care for the 
 future. I'll remember Stella's chiding: 'What had 
 you to do with what did not belong to you ? ' etc. 
 However, you will give me leave to tell the Ministry 
 my thoughts when they ask them, and other people's 
 thoughts sometimes when they do not ask. So 
 thinks Dingley." 
 
 Many a rebuke he also gave to Harley. Well 
 might the Premier say that Swift is our governor ; 
 he might have said, domineering governor. Swift 
 owed them no allegiance ; his proud boast was that 
 he was in no man's pay. He might live in his eight 
 shillings a week lodging, but he held his head as 
 high as the best of them. 
 
 Sir Robert Walpole used to say that every man 
 had his price ; that, in all his political experience, 
 he never knew a man that refused a money bribe, 
 or woman either, but one, and she took diamonds. 
 The Premier, before he knew his man, plied Swift 
 with money, which he rejected with scorn ; next with 
 flattery, but he was equally invincible to that ; lastly 
 with power. He accepted that. He took the helm 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 97 
 
 of State into his own hand, and for a time became, as 
 Johnson says, "the dictator of the politics of the 
 English nation." About this time a sad calamity 
 overtook the Ministry by an attempted assassination 
 of the Premier. It will be best described in Swift's 
 agonising language to Stella : 
 
 " O, dear M.D., my heart is almost broken. It is 
 of Mr. Harley being stabbed this afternoon at three 
 o'clock at a committee of the Council." Swift was at 
 the dinner-table of Lady Catherine Morris, when 
 young Arundel came in with the story. He imme- 
 diately left and rushed to the Secretary's, and from 
 that to the Premier's, whom he found asleep. " I am 
 in mortal pain for him. Guiscard was taken up by 
 Mr. Secretary St. John for high treason, and brought 
 before the Lords to be examined ; when he stabbed 
 Mr. Harley. I have now, at nine, sent again, and 
 they tell me he is in a fair way. Pray pardon my 
 distraction. I now think of all his kindness to me. 
 The poor creature now lies stabbed in his bed by 
 a desperate -French Papist villain. Good night, and 
 God preserve you both and pity me ; I want it. 
 
 "g. — Morning. Seven, in bed. Patrick is just 
 come from Mr. Harley's. He slept well till four; the 
 surgeon sat up with him ; he is asleep again ; they 
 apprehend him in no danger. Pray God, preserve 
 him. I am rising and going to Mr. Secretary St. 
 John. They say Guiscard will die with the wound 
 Mr. St. John and the rest gave him. I shall tell 
 you more at night. Night. — Mr. Harley is still 
 mending this evening, but not at all out of danger, 
 
 H 
 
98 SWIFT. 
 
 and till then I can have no peace. Good night, 
 and pity Presto. 
 
 " I r. — Mr. Secretary and I met at Court, where 
 we went to the Queen, who is out of order and 
 aguish. I doubt the worst for this accident to Mr. 
 Harley. We went together to his house, and his 
 wound looks well, and he is not feverish at all. I 
 had the penknife in my hand, which is broken within 
 a quarter of an inch of the handle. 
 
 " 12. — We have been in terrible pain to-day about 
 Mr. Harley, who never slept last night and has been 
 very feverish. But this evening I called there, and 
 young Mr. Harley [his only son] tells me he is now 
 much better, and was then asleep. They let nobody 
 see him, and that is perfectly right. The Parliament 
 cannot go on till he is well, and are forced to adjourn 
 their money businesses, which none but he can help 
 them in. Pray God, preserve him ! " 
 
 Shortly after this Harley quite recovers, but on 
 the 17th Swift writes to Stella: 
 
 "Guiscard died this morning at two, and the 
 coroner's inquest have found that he was killed by 
 bruises received from a messenger, so to clear the 
 Cabinet Counsellors from whom he received his 
 wounds." 
 
 These quotations reveal a characteristic of Swift 
 which the world has been slow to acknowledge — his 
 tenderness of heart. 
 
 At this critical time during Harley's illness, the 
 affairs of State were nominally in the hands of St. 
 John, the Secretary, but really in the hands of 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 99 
 
 Swift. History records the fact that the brilliant St. 
 John, as a diplomatist and practical politician, was 
 but a puppet in the hands of Swift. 
 
 This crisis was an anxious and busy time with 
 Swift. Yet with all the affairs of State on his mind, 
 and all the business of it in his hands, his heart is at 
 Laracor, thinking of his willows and his flowers, his 
 river and his pike. Two days after he told Stella of 
 Guiscard's death, he writes to her with the sim- 
 plicity and rapture of a schoolboy: "Oh, that we were 
 ■at Laracor this fine day ! The willows begin to peep, 
 and the quicks to bud. My dream is out. I was 
 dreaming last night that I ate ripe cherries. And 
 now they begin to catch the pikes and will shortly 
 the trouts. Pox on these ministers! and I would 
 fain know whether the floods were ever so high as 
 to get over the holly bank or the river walk. If so, 
 then all my pikes are gone ; but I hope not. Here 
 is a world of business, but I must go sleep. I am 
 drowsy, and so good night." 
 
 These words give us a glimpse of another phase 
 of Swift, a characteristic which his biographers ignore 
 — the childish simplicity of his nature. 
 
 At this crisis the political work that fell to the 
 lot of Swift was overwhelming. " No pen had served 
 a cause better than his had served, and was yet to 
 serve " in the interests of the Tory party at a time 
 when, as we must remember, pamphlets had to do 
 the work of the leading article, and practically in- 
 cluded the work of the platform. 
 
 Shortly after Harley's recovery the next great work 
 
 H 2 
 
loo SWIFT. 
 
 that fell to Swift was to stop the war, and to recall 
 England's successful general — the Duke of Marl- 
 borough. Swift saw with perfect clearness that the 
 existence of Harley's Government depended on the 
 making of peace with France. There was only one 
 man in Europe at that moment that could do it, 
 and that man was Swift. This extraordinary man 
 could either make a war or stop one. Ask Swift to 
 make a war — with pleasure. Ask him to stop it — 
 certainly. Accordingly he writes a pamphlet, entitled 
 "The Conduct of the Allies," which the nation, 
 anxious for peace, devoured. The arguments were 
 irresistible and overwhelming. Marlborough was 
 recalled amidst the hosannahs of the nation, and the 
 war ceased. Lord Macaulay, Swift's implacable foe, 
 admits that in this the Tories, with Swift at their 
 head, were in the right, and the Whigs, who com- 
 menced the war, were in the wrong. 
 
 We have now reached the most brilliant and 
 thrilling epoch in the life of Swift — his political 
 dictatorship of the British nation. In the eloquent 
 language of The Times, "Under the" Harley Ad- 
 ministration, Swift reigned ; Swift was the Govern- 
 ment; Swift was Queen, Lords, and Commons. 
 There was tremendous work to do, and Swift himself 
 did it all." These words are true. He was omni- 
 potent. The following is a description of him at the 
 height of his power and politics from the Whiggish 
 and, therefore, unfriendly pen of Bishop Kennet: 
 
 " When I came to the antechamber at Court to 
 
THE POLITICIAN. loi 
 
 -wait before prayers, Dr. Swift was the principal man 
 of talk and business, and acted as Master of Requests. 
 He was soliciting the Earl of Arran to speak to his 
 brother, the Duke of Ormonde to get a chaplain's 
 place established in the Garrison of Hull, for Mr. 
 Fiddes, a clergyman in that neighbourhood, who had 
 lately been in jail and published sermons. He was 
 promising Mr. Thorald to undertake with my Lord 
 Treasurer that he should obtain a salary of ;^200 
 per annum, as member of the English Church at 
 Rotterdam. He stopped F. Gwyne, Esq., going 
 into the Queen with the red bag, and told him aloud 
 he had something to say to him from my Lord 
 Treasurer. He took out his gold watch and, telling 
 the time of day, complained that it was very late. 
 A gentleman said that he was too fast. ' How can I 
 help it,' says the Doctor, ' if the courtiers give me a 
 watch that won't go right .■' ' Then he instructed a 
 young nobleman that the best Poet in England was 
 Mr. Pope, a Papist, who had begun a translation of 
 Homer into English, for which he would have them 
 all subscribe. ' For,' says he, ' he shall not begin to 
 print till I have a thousand guineas for him.' Lord 
 Treasurer, after leaving the Queen, came through the 
 room beckoning Dr. Swift to follow him. Both went 
 ■off just before prayers." What bitter sarcasm in these 
 words — Just before prayers ! 
 
 Swift, at this time, held a high place in the ranks 
 •of European statesmen. Ministers of State, men 
 of wit, men of genius, men of rank, and men of 
 letters, were at his feet. Swift had -^nobLy done his 
 
102 SWIFT. 
 
 duty to the Ministry, and it was not too much to 
 expect that they should do their duty to him. As 
 yet, they had given him nothing but promises, Royal 
 levies, and Cabinet dinners. Up to the present, be it 
 remembered that there is no evidence that he had 
 ever interceded for himself, however much he had 
 done so for others. About this time the private 
 secretary of the Premier happened to call on Swift, 
 with whom he was on the most intimate terms of 
 friendship, and showed him a warrant for three 
 Deaneries, but none of them to him. At this Swift 
 got irritated, and resolved that this neglect of the 
 Ministry must instantly cease. He bade the secretary 
 tell the Premier that he took nothing ill of him, but 
 his not giving him timely notice, as he promised to 
 do if he found the Queen would do nothing for him. 
 At noon Lord Treasurer came to Swift, and said 
 many things too long to repeat. Swift told him he 
 had nothing to do but go to Ireland immediately^ 
 for he could not, with any reputation, stay longer 
 here, except he had something honourable im- 
 mediately given to him. 
 
 The Premier and he dined together that night at the 
 Duke of Ormond's. " He there told me," says Swift, 
 " that he had stopped the warrants for the Deans, that 
 what was done for me might be done at the same time- 
 I told the Duke of Ormond my intentions. He is. 
 content Sterne should be a Bishop and I have St. 
 Patrick's," To give, Harley and Bolingbroke their 
 due, they were waiting to give Swift a better appoint- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 103 
 
 ment than the Deanery of St. Patrick's. Failing a 
 Bishopric they wished to give him the Deanery of 
 Windsor, but the Queen was inexorable. Her 
 conscience keeper^ the Archbishop of York, had told 
 her that Swift was not a Christian, and the feeble- 
 brained but pious old lady believed him. 
 
 Her favourite lady-in-waiting, Lady Masham.who 
 made and unmade Cabinets, entreated her Royal 
 mistress, even with tears, that Swift should get 
 Windsor, but it was utterly unavailing. Harley and 
 St. John, however, took a firm stand with Her 
 Majesty, and at last, after considerable difficulty, 
 she consented to a compromise — that Sterne should 
 be Bishop of Dromore, and Swift Dean of St. 
 Patrick's. Shortly after this, with considerable re- 
 luctance, Swift bundled up his belongings and started 
 for Dublin to take possession of the Deanery. On 
 his way thither, after six days' riding, which seems 
 not to have been faster than a funeral trot, he reached 
 Chester on 6th June, 171 3. On his arrival he was 
 informed, for his comfort, that all the ships and 
 people , had gone off for Ireland the previous day 
 with a rare wind. As it was necessary for him to be 
 at Dublin on the 2Sth to take the oaths of office, 
 he had unwillingly to continue his equestrian journey. 
 To Stella he writes : "I will come when God pleases. 
 Perhaps I may be with you in a week. I cannot 
 ride faster, say what you will. I am upon stay-behind's 
 mare. I have the whole Inn to myself. I will lodge 
 as I can, therefore, take no lodgings for me to pay in 
 
104 SWIFT. 
 
 my absence. The poor Dean can't afford it." He 
 arrived in Dublin safely, and was installed to the 
 Deanery in due course. 
 
 During the installation ceremony he felt dread- 
 fully melancholy. For generations, students of Swift 
 have wondered why, on this auspicious occasion, he 
 should have been so overpowered with melancholy. 
 His life had not been a failure. He had returned 
 amidst thunders of applause to the Emerald Isle, 
 where lived his beloved Stella ; returned with a great 
 name in politics, in literature, in churchmanship ; 
 returned to the city that gave him birth to be its 
 Dean. Yet he writes to Vanessa that he felt so 
 horribly melancholy, that, during the ceremony of 
 installation, he thought he would have died. Why 
 was this ? There were many reasons. He had been 
 promised a Bishopric, and only got a Deanery. True 
 it was the best in Ireland, but Ireland to him was a 
 " Scoundrel Island," a place of banishment. To 
 Vanessa he writes : " The great house they call the 
 Deanery, and which they say is mine, is very dreary." 
 Yet he felt that, in all likelihood, that was to be his 
 future home, separated from the comings and goings 
 of the great men in politics and in literature, who 
 were destined with himself to play a brilliant part 
 in the history of civilisation and Europe. Swift also 
 had a wholesome dread of debt. Debt to him was 
 synonymous with the devil, and he felt conscious that 
 his acceptance of St. Patrick's Deanery, which the 
 installation ceremony sealed, that day had plunged 
 him a thousand pounds in debt. He writes to Stella : 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 105 
 
 *' Unless the Queen pays this thousand pounds, and I 
 am sure that she owes me a great deal more, I am 
 ruined." Add to this his fatigue by travelling, and 
 indifferent healthy and we need not wonder that he 
 felt melancholy. The day after the installation 
 above a hundred visitors called at the Deanery. 
 Swift betook himself to his bedchamber, and neither 
 received the visitors nor returned their visits. He 
 complained to a friend that the visits were all paid to 
 the Dean and not one to the Doctor. After a short 
 stay of a week in Dublin, he hurried away to 
 Laracor. As he came in sight of the little rectory, 
 his melancholy passed away. There was the little 
 river, with the willows on its bank. There were the 
 shrubbery walks, and the mossy well where travellers 
 ■even now linger to drink of its water in solemn 
 silence to the memory of the great Dean. He had 
 just got settled down in his snug rectory when 
 letters arrived pell-mell from London, imploring his 
 return to England to settle a quarrel between Harley 
 and Bolingbroke, which threatened to break up the 
 Cabinet. Tired of the perpetual bickerings of the two 
 Tory chiefs, Swift resolved to pay no heed to their 
 entreaties. 
 
 Another urgent letter, however, arrived from the 
 Premier's private secretary, beseeching him, for the 
 last time, to come at once, and restore peace in the 
 Cabinet, or all was over. Accordingly, Swift started 
 for London, and on his way thither, in passing 
 through Dublin, did not even stay to visit the Arch- 
 bishop, which gave great offence to his Grace. Swift 
 
io6 SWIFT. 
 
 hurried on his Journey. When he reached London 
 he found the Cabinet in great disorder, through the 
 quarrel of the Premier and St. John. Swift reconciled 
 them, and things once more went smoothly on, but 
 this was not for long. A few months after this and 
 there was another quarrel between Harley and 
 Bolingbroke. Indeed, their bickerings and jealousies 
 were well-nigh perpetual. 
 
 Once more Swift, as a friend of both, tried to 
 reconcile them. What a strange and busy life was 
 Swift's ! He was either assailing the enemy from 
 without, or assailing his friends from within. He 
 had stopped the war abroad, and he had just stopped 
 a war in the Cabinet at home. Swift was born to 
 rule, to control action, not to affect thought. He 
 had a large share of "personal power so difficult to 
 define, so easy to feel, so essentially magnetic in its 
 operations, which enabled him to assert himself as a 
 leader of men." 
 
 Politically, Swift saw far and he saw clearly. He 
 told them if they would be reconciled to one another, 
 and act upon his suggestion, their dispute would be 
 settled in two minutes ; if not, their Government 
 would be upset in two months. Bolingbroke was 
 willing; Harley hesitated, muttered that all things 
 would yet go well, and invited Swift to dine with 
 him next evening. Swift declined. He retired, and 
 their fate was sealed. He left London next day 
 for Berkshire. His intensely sensitive and proud 
 nature could not bear to witness the coming 
 catastrophe. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 107- 
 
 Swift's prognostication proved to be true. Nine 
 short weeks, and the white wand of office had passed 
 from the hands of Harley to that of Bolingbroke. 
 
 Bolingbroke was Premier for three days. Yet that 
 ephemeral Premiership enabled Swift to perform one 
 of the noblest and most unselfish deeds that was 
 ever recorded on the page of history. No sooner 
 had Bolingbroke grasped the wand of office than he 
 sat down and penned a letter to Swift, of which any 
 man might have been proud; enclosed a cheque for 
 a thousand pounds to defray his installation fees, and 
 earnestly asked his co-operation with the Ministry. 
 This was accompanied by a letter from Lady Masham,. 
 the Queen's favourite, through whose influence Boling- 
 broke had been made Premier. She writes, 29th 
 July, 1 7 14: 
 
 ^'My Good Friend, 
 
 "Will you who have gone through so much 
 and taken more pains than anybody, and given wise 
 advice, if that wretched man * had had sense enough 
 and honesty to have taken it, I say, will you leave us 
 and go into Ireland.' No, it is impossible. Your 
 goodness is still the same, your charity and compas- 
 sion for this poor lady, the Queen, who has been 
 barbarously used, would not let you do it. I know 
 you take. delight to help the distressed, and there 
 cannot be a greater object than this good Lady, who 
 deserves pity. Pray, dear friend, stay here, and do 
 
 * Harley, the late Premier. 
 
io8 SWIFT. 
 
 Tiot believe us all alike to throw away good advice and 
 despise everybody's understanding but their own. I 
 
 ■could say a great deal to you upon the subject, but 
 I must go to her, the Queen, for she is not well." 
 
 The same post brought a letter from Harley, 
 soliciting Swift's company and condolence in his 
 retirement. To the eternal honour of Swift be it 
 known, that he did not hesitate a moment in ac- 
 ■cepting the invitation of his fallen friend in preference 
 to the flattering invitation of Bolingbroke and Lady 
 Masham. 
 
 As these letters were being written, Queen Anne 
 lay a-dying in Kensington Palace. It was a perilous 
 time, for the nation and the Ministry were equally 
 divided, as to whether James Stuart or George Louis 
 Guelph should be King of Great Britian. She was 
 called Queen " Anne of blessed memory.'' A strange 
 comment on that title was ^ given by the stock- 
 jobbers of the day. On a false announcement of her 
 death, the stocks rose three per cent. ; next day, on 
 the announcement of her recovery, they instantly fell 
 again. If England, at this perilous time, escaped the 
 blood-bath of a revolution, the praise of it should be 
 given to Jonathan Swift more than to any other man. 
 He was the first to teach the nation and the Cabinet 
 that a political disturbance was to be accounted 
 -sufficient occasion for a change of Ministry, but not 
 for a revolution. 
 
 At the first meeting of the Privy Council, on the 
 announcement of the Queen's serious illness, Boling- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 109. 
 
 broke showed how well he had learned the lesson, 
 and how cleverly he could practise it. The first to 
 enter the Council Chamber were the Premier and 
 the Duke of Ormond ; next came Shrewsbury, whose 
 heart was always unsearchable. The next moment 
 who should enter uninvited, to the amazement and 
 consternation of the others, but the Duke of Somer- 
 set, representing the Whig interests of England, and 
 the Duke of Argyll, representing the Whig interests 
 of Scotland. Doubtless, they had then as now a 
 legal right at such a crisis to sit in Council, but the 
 privilege had never been exercised before nor since 
 in the history of Cabinets. The Duke of Shrews- 
 bury welcomed their presence and co-operation. 
 Bolingbroke, in a moment, realised the situation, and, 
 remembering Swift's maxim, after the report of the- 
 Royal physicians had been called for and read, he- 
 arose, and in the most graceful manner, proposed 
 that it would be for the public interests that Lord 
 Shrewsbury should be named to the Queen as Lord 
 High Treasurer. This sealed his political destiny, 
 but it saved a revolution. Doubtless, by risking his 
 own and a few other heads he might have remained 
 a formidable enemy and retained power a little 
 longer, but he remembered the advice of Swift. A 
 deputation, with Shrew.sbury at their head, went from' 
 the Council to the Royal chamber of the dying Queen. 
 Her Majesty received them, and with a trembling 
 hand gave to Shrewsbury the staff of office, and, with 
 a feeble voice, bade him use it for the good of her 
 people. The crisis was now over. The Whig leaders 
 
■no SWIFT. 
 
 iiext despatched summonses to all th^ Privy 
 Councillors, living in or near London, to meet that 
 afternoon. They met accordingly. Anticipating a 
 revolution, they ordered a concentration of troops in 
 the City ; despatched a fleet to sea ; made General 
 ■Stanhope military dictator ; and gave him possession 
 ■of the Tower for the special use of Jacobites. This 
 •done, they had nothing now to do but to wait the 
 ■Queen's death, nor had they long to wait. On 
 Sunday, ist August, 1714, she gently passed away. 
 That same day the Royal heralds proclaimed that 
 the high and mighty Prince George, Elector of 
 Brunswick and Luxemburgh, is by the death of Queen 
 Anne of blessed memory become our lawful and 
 rightful liege lord. King of Great Britain, France, and 
 Ireland, Defender of the Faith. This high and 
 mighty prince, this Defender of the Faith, was just 
 then arranging with his favourite mistresses to 
 accompany him when he went, grudgingly, to 
 take possession of the British throne. As soon 
 as George ascended the throne, the political storm 
 which Swift predicted, arose with great violence. 
 Bolingbroke fled before it to France, Harley was 
 driven by it to the Tower of London, and Swift to 
 the Deanery of Dublin. The stars of Bolingbroke 
 and Harley had set for ever. Not so with Swift. 
 He had not yet reached the zenith of his power 
 either in politics or literature. He had written 
 the " Tale of a Tub/' but not his " Gulliver." He 
 had written The Examiner, but not the Drapier's 
 Letters. He had ruled England for a time, but was 
 
THE POLITICIAN. in 
 
 yet destined to be the ruler of Ireland. The real 
 tragedy of his life was yet to be enacted, and was 
 now at hand. 
 
 In estimating the political life of Swift, Lord 
 TMacaulay has accused him of political apostasy. 
 Lord Jeffrey has accused him as a Tory libeller of 
 the Whigs, against his conscience, and William Make- 
 peace Thackeray has accused him as a social 
 highwayman. 
 
 These are serious charges ; but what are the 
 facts ? If there is any foundation for Lord Macaulay's 
 accusation, it must rest on Swift's first political 
 pamphlet, " A Discourse on the Contests and Dissen- 
 sions of Athens and Rome." It was meant to show 
 the undesirableness of the House of Commons having 
 an undue share of power, and the dangers which 
 attend the tyranny of a majority, and the tendency 
 which , such a majority has to follow a popular leader 
 until the tyranny of many becomes the despotism 
 of one. This pamphlet might have been written by 
 a Whig of the old school, or by a Conservative of the 
 new. It is true that it was claimed by the Whig 
 leaders, as its arguments told powerfully in their 
 favour. 
 
 This identical pamphlet, however, might have 
 been equally claimed by the Conservatives a few 
 years ago, when Mr. Gladstone, backed by a majority 
 of the House of Commons and of the nation, defied 
 the House of Lords — rightly or wrongly, it is not for 
 me to determine — and appealed to the Royal preroga- 
 
112 SWIFT. 
 
 tive, which had not been done since the Revolution- 
 of 1688. After the publication of this pamphlet the- 
 Whig leader " desired his (Swift's) acquaintance with 
 great marks of esteem and professions of kindness." 
 
 At his first interview with Lord Somers^ Swift 
 describes his political and ecclesiastical attitude with 
 perfect clearness. " I am much inclined," he said, 
 "to be what is called a Whig in politics, but in 
 religion a High Churchman." In politics a Whig ; 
 in churchmanship a Tory. From this attitude he 
 never once varied during the whole course of his 
 life. In his days of power and politics, under the- 
 Harley Administration, he writes to Steele, in May, 
 1713, referring to this very pamphlet: "I think 
 principles are, at present, quite out of the case,, 
 and that we differ and dispute wholly about persons. 
 In these last you and I agree, for I have, in print,, 
 professed myself in politics to be what we formerly 
 called a Whig." Says Johnson : " Swift did npt 
 desert the Whigs until they deserted their principles." 
 The truth is, none of Swift's Whig or Tory con- 
 temporaries could interpret accurately his political 
 and ecclesiastical attitude. He stood before them 
 a political enigma. He hated the stupid, distinctive 
 names of Whig and Tory, which came in at the 
 Revolution. Swift was too much of a genius to belong 
 wholly to any party. With him it was measures, not 
 men. 
 
 A High Church Whig in those days was not 
 understandable. The Whig Ministry of that day,^ 
 with Godolphin at their head, were shrewd enough- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 113 
 
 to realise that, inevitably, one or other of these 
 principles must give way ; therefore. Swift was not 
 wholly to their liking, and they would have parted 
 with him if they dared, but they felt that he was 
 a power with which they had to reckon. Accordingly 
 the Whig Ministry were only too glad to accept him 
 on his own terms, and rewarded him with good 
 words, meanwhile giving their good things to those 
 more wholly their own. 
 
 The crisis, which Godolphin foresaw, did come. 
 Swift, as Commissioner for the Irish Church, demands 
 from Government a remission of the first-fruits. 
 
 The Premier, Godolphin, refuses, except on terms 
 with which Swift could not comply. " Small good," 
 said the Premier, "had been got by the remission 
 to the English clergy, and he should not consent 
 to it in the case of the Irish unless assured it would 
 be well received with due acknowledgment.^' 
 
 Swift asked what was to be understood by 
 this? 
 
 "Nothing under their hands," said Godolphin; 
 "but I will so far explain myself to tell you. I 
 mean better acknowledgments than those of the 
 clergy of England." 
 
 " What sort of acknowledgments would my lord 
 think fittest ? " 
 
 "I can only say again," replied Godolphin, 
 drily, "such as they ought." 
 
 The subtle Godolphin would not commit himself; 
 but Swift was acute enough to understand that the 
 bribe offered was for the repeal of the " Test Act." 
 
 I 
 
114 SWIFT. 
 
 Swift resolved that this should not be, and left 
 the house of the dry Godolphin " vowing vengeance." 
 A few months afterwards we find him a leader among 
 the Tories. 
 
 It was the natural and logical development of his 
 political creed. Swift did exactly what thousands in 
 the Church of England and Scotland, at the present 
 day, would do in the same circumstances. He pre- 
 ferred the welfare of the Church, in which he was a 
 dignitary, to that of a political party. Where is the 
 inconsistency or apostasy in this? I fail to see it. 
 Granting, for the sake of argument, that Swift did 
 change his political creed, what did he more than 
 Marlborough, or Godolphin, or Somers, or Harley, or 
 Walpole, or Gladstone, or even Lord Macaulay him- 
 self, who began life as a Wilberforce Tory and ended 
 it as a member in the Whig Cabinet of Lord Grey ? 
 Where then is the political justice in Lord Macaulay 
 singling out Swift for special animadversion ? 
 
 My contention, therefore, is that the accusation of 
 political apostasy, which has been preferred against 
 Swift, is false, and that Swift spoke truthfully when 
 he declared that " the Whigs and Tories had changed 
 principles, and that he attacked the Whigs in defence 
 of the true Whig faith." 
 
 Lord Jeffrey, in his vituperation of Swift, goes 
 even further than Lord Macaulay. He accuses Swift 
 as a Tory libeller of the Whigs against his conscience. 
 This Jeffrey assumes from his private letters, which 
 were inconsistent with his public utterances. It may 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 115 
 
 Tae so ; but we should have preferred his lordship's 
 proof, instead of his dogmatic assertion. Lord Jeffrey, 
 as a man of letters, and a Scotch judge, should have 
 known that dogmatism is not permissible either in 
 the realm of literature or law ; only in theology is it 
 allowable. I do not defend Swift in his personal 
 libels. No man ever wielded more terrible weapons 
 than Swift, and he often used them unmercifully, and 
 sometimes with a coarseness which we all deplore. 
 But it would be difficult to prove that he was a libeller 
 against his conscience, as Lord Jeffrey asserts. To 
 be a writer against conscience is about the lowest 
 degradation to which a human being can fall ; so we 
 must have the clearest proof before we admit it 
 against Swift. I am afraid, however, that Lord 
 Jeffrey, in bringing this grave charge against Swift, is 
 unconsciously passing a severe judgment on himself. 
 There is a private letter of Lord Jeffrey's, published 
 in his Life, which is in entire contradiction to principles 
 which, as editor of The Edinburgh Review, he an- 
 nounced to the world. In this private letter he writes, 
 in perfect terror, and in the deepest despair of the 
 nation, arising from the dangerous tendency of articles 
 in that Review, with the apology that he could not 
 restrain his contributors — an apology which, for a 
 powerful editor to make, is frivolous enough. 
 
 Again, one of the most brilliant contributors to 
 the Review, appalled at the frequency and virulence 
 of these libels, writes to the editor for an explana- 
 tion ; Lord Jeffrey defends the practice in a curiously 
 inconsistent letter to Francis Horner, Esq., of date 12th 
 
 I 2 
 
ii6 SWIFT. 
 
 March, iSiJ, where he says : " Many people, and I 
 profess myself to be one, may think such a proceeding 
 at variance with the dictates of good taste, of 
 dangerous example, and repugnant to good feeling 
 .... but the systerii of attacking abuses of power, 
 by attacking the person who instigates or carries 
 them through by general popularity or personal 
 influence, is lawful enough, I think, and may form 
 a large scheme of Whig opposition." Jeffrey admits 
 that personal attacks are against good taste and 
 repugnant to good feelings, yet calmly sins against 
 both by recommending this as "a large scheme 
 of Whig opposition." 
 
 Lord Jeffrey descended to even a lower depth than 
 this. Not only was he a writer against conscience 
 himself, but when editor of The Edinburgh Review, 
 by a dishonourable act compelled Coleridge to do the 
 same. 
 
 Coleridge relates that Clarkson (the moral steam- * 
 engine, or giant with one idea) had recently published 
 his book, and being in a very irritable state of mind, 
 his wife expressed great fears of the effect of any 
 severe review in the then state of his feelings. " I 
 wrote," says Coleridge, "to Jeffrey, and expressed to 
 him my opinion of the cruelty of any censure being 
 passed upon the work as a composition. In return I 
 had a very polite letter, expressing a wish that I 
 should review it. I did so, but when the review was 
 published, in the place of some just eulogiums due 
 to Mr. Pitt, and which I stated were upon the 
 best authority (in fact they were from Tom 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 117 
 
 Clarkson himself), was substituted some abuse and 
 ■detraction.'* 
 
 The editor asks, and justly asks : " Was not this 
 a fraud, a moral forgery? And this man who attained 
 notoriety and influence by conduct and practices like 
 these, is he not a judge, whose office it is to punish 
 such acts in another ? " * 
 
 This is the identical man who accuses Swift as a 
 Tory libeller of the Whigs against his conscience. 
 
 The inconsistency of Jeffrey is appalling. 
 
 Thackeray goes even farther than their lordships 
 in his scurrility against Swift. He has the good taste 
 to compare him to a " highwayman " ! Thackeray 
 writes : " It is an outlaw who says, ' These are my 
 brains — with these I'll win titles and compete with 
 fortune. These are my bullets — these I'll turn into 
 gold,' and he hears the sound of coaches and six, 
 takes the road like Macheath, and makes Society 
 stand and deliver. The great prize has not yet come. 
 The coach, with the mitre and crosier in it, which 
 he intends to have for his share, has been delayed 
 on the way from St. James's ; and he waits and waits 
 until nightfall, when his runners come and tell him 
 that the coach has taken a different road and escaped 
 him. So he fires his pistols into the air with a curse, 
 and rides away into his own country." 
 
 I protest against such language. It proves that 
 
 Mr. Thackeray was strangely biassed against Swift, 
 
 or wanted brain power to estimate his character. 
 
 * " Letters, Conversations, and Recollections of Coleridge," 
 edited by Thomas AIIsop, page 184. 
 
ii8 SWIFT. 
 
 Think who Swift was ! 
 
 Addison certifies him as "the greatest genius of 
 his age." 
 
 "A genius," says Macaulay, "destined to shake 
 great kingdoms, to stir the laughter and the rage 
 of millions, and to leave to posterity memorials 
 which can perish only with the English language." 
 
 Thackeray himself calls him "a king fit to rule 
 at any time or empire." 
 
 Think on what Swift did ! 
 
 "Under the Harley Administration," says The 
 Times, " Swift reigned. Swift was the Government,. 
 Queen, Lords, and Commons. There was tremendous 
 work to do, and Swift did it all." And what was 
 his reward ? A paltry Deanery in Ireland. Harley- 
 and Bolingbroke, whom Swift governed, got their 
 share of the good things, and the rag-tag of the 
 party, we may be quite sure, got their share ; but 
 nothing to Swift. His literary contemporaries, in- 
 finitely smaller men, were splendidly rewarded for 
 services. Addison received a Secretaryship of State. 
 Prior was made an Ambassador. Dick Steele gets, 
 appointments that yielded twelve hundred pounds 
 a year, and Congreve commissionerships that yielded 
 two thousand. 
 
 Even Macaulay, in our own time, when a mere 
 stripling in politics, gets an appointment in India, 
 of ten thousand a year. And Swift, who swayed 
 the destiny of nations, because he aspired to a 
 bishopric is likened by Thackeray to a "highway- 
 man." With all due deference to Thackeray, I con- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 119 
 
 tend that it was not unreasonable in Swift to expect 
 that room should be made for him in the palaces 
 of the world. 
 
 It is pitiful that political partisanship should make 
 judgment unjust. 
 
 The political triumphs of Swift will keep his name 
 alive long after the names of his detractors have 
 perished utterly. 
 
 The critics of next century will assign a high 
 place to Swift as a politician. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SWIFT: THE LOVER. 
 
 Jonathan Swift was no common lover. He 
 neither lived nor loved like other men. There- 
 fore we must not construe his words and actions 
 rashly, lest we misconstrue. His amours hitherto 
 have been inexplicable. This, I believe, is the reason 
 mankind have taken such a prying interest in them, 
 because "men are mostly captivated by the mysterious 
 and inexplicable." 
 
 Biographers have differed as widely as the poles 
 regarding Swift's amours. Nor need we wonder ; 
 mixed up as they are with traditional stories, 
 apocryphal gossipings, and hearsay evidence, it is 
 difficult to form a correct judgment regarding them. 
 
 Should I fail, like the rest of Swift's biographers, 
 to shed new light on the darkness and mystery of his 
 amours, I hope at least to be able to extinguish a 
 good deal oi false light which has been kindled on 
 the subject by Lord Jeffrey, Lord Macaulay, and 
 William Makepeace Thackeray, and which has misled 
 the world. 
 
 Thackeray accuses Swift of having loved, and 
 conquered, and jilted Varina, Stella, and Vanessa. 
 The sad thing about this accusation is that the world 
 believes it. 
 
THE LOVER. 121 
 
 But what are the facts ? 
 
 Swift's_/?rj^ love episode was in 1696; when Minister 
 of Kilroot. The object of his affection was a Miss 
 Warring, which name Swift changed to Varina. She 
 was an accomplished and beautiful young heiress, 
 whose ancestors gave their name to Warring Street, 
 Belfast, and Warring's Town, County Down. 
 
 She seems to have been the only person in the 
 entire neighbourhood who sympathised with him in 
 his loneliness. His little parish was full of Catholics 
 and Presbyterians. They had not brain power to 
 understand the eccentricity of his genius. They 
 called him the Mad Parson, and boycotted him. He 
 had little parochial work. His congregation was 
 small. It consisted, he tells us, of a score, mostly 
 gentle and all simple. Accordingly he betook him- 
 self for his amusement to the skipping of stones into 
 the sea, the writing the " Tale of a Tub," and the 
 making of love to Varina. This, at last, led up to Swift 
 sending her a ridiculous love-letter — as love-letters 
 generally are — declaring his affection for her in un- 
 measured terms, asking her love in return, or he 
 would instantly leave Ireland and never see her more. 
 
 I shall quote from it. It deserves it. There is 
 nothing like it in the literature of love. 
 
 To Varina. 
 Madam, 
 
 Impatience is the most inseparable quality of a lover. 
 In my case there are some circumstances which will admit 
 pardon for more than ordinary disquiets. That dearest object, 
 upon which all my prospect of happiness entirely depends, is in 
 perpetual danger to be removed for ever from my sight. Why 
 was I so foolish to put my hopes and fears into the power or 
 management of another? Liberty is undoubtedly the most 
 
122 SWIFT. 
 
 valuable blessing of life, yet we are fond to fling it away on 
 those who have been, for five thousand years, using us ill. 
 
 You have had time enough to consider my last letter, and to 
 form your own resolutions upon it. I wait your answer with a 
 world of impatience. I desire nothing of your fortune; you shall 
 live where and with whom you please, till my affairs are settled 
 to your desire. 
 
 Study seven years for objections against all this, and, by 
 Heaven ! they will, at last, be more than trifles and put-offs. ' 
 It is true that you have known sickness longer than you have 
 me, and therefore perhaps you are more loath to part with it as an 
 old acquaintance. But, listen to what I solemnly protest by all 
 that can be witness to an oath, that, if I leave this kingdonl 
 before you are mine, I will endure the utmost indignities of 
 fortune rather than ever return again, though the King would 
 send me back his deputy. And if it must be so, preserve your- 
 self in God's name for the next lover who has those qualities 
 you love so much beyond any of mine, and who will highly 
 admire you for those advantages which will never share any 
 esteem from me. Would to Heaven you were for a while 
 sensible of the thoughts into which my present distractions 
 plunge me. It is so, by Heaven ! The love of Varina is of 
 more tragical consequence than her cruelty. Would to God 
 you had treated and scorned me from the beginning. It was 
 your pity opened the first way to my misfortune, and now your 
 love is finishing my ruin, and it is so then. In one fortnight I 
 must take eternal farewell of Varina, and I wonder will she 
 weep at parting a little to justify her poor pretence of some 
 affection to me.? ... By Heaven! Varina, you are more experienced 
 and have less virgin innocence than I. Would not your con- 
 duct make one think you were highly skilled in all the little, 
 polite methods of intrigue ? Love, with the gall of too much dis- 
 cretion, is a thousand times worse than with none at all. It is a 
 peculiar part of nature which art debauches but cannot improve. 
 . . .The little disguises and affected contradictions of your sex were 
 all, to say the truth, infinitely beneath persons of your pride and 
 mine ; paltry maxims that they are, calculated for the rabble of 
 humanity. Farewell, madam ; and may love make you a while 
 forget your temper to do me justice. Only, remember, that if 
 you still refuse to be mine, you will quickly lose him that has 
 resolved to die as he has lived. 
 
 All yours, 
 
 Jon. Switt. 
 
THE LOVER. 125 
 
 That is the first and last genuine love-letter that 
 Swift ever wrote, and completely disposes of the 
 theory that the finer feeling in him. had nev^r livedo 
 that he was physically unfit for marriage, and other 
 biographical theoretical rubbish. What Varina's 
 answer was to this impassioned and imperious letter 
 we cannot tell, as no eye ever saw it but Swift's. 
 Doubtless, she made him understand that love goeth 
 not forth by commandment. Whatever was the 
 reply, it was unsatisfactory, as, shortly afterwards, 
 Swift resigned his living and left Kilroot for England,, 
 carrying with him in his pocket four-score pounds, 
 and in his heart a lingering love of Varina and a 
 bitter hatred of Catholics and Presbyterians, 
 
 Swift returns again to the bosom of the Temple 
 family. Time passes ; Temple dies ; Swift visits 
 London ; has an interview with the King ; gets 
 appointed secretary and chaplain to the Earl of 
 Berkeley, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland ; whilst there, 
 fails to get the rich Deanery of Derry except on. 
 terms which he rejects with scorn; gets instead the 
 substantial living of Laracor. Just as he was about 
 to leave Dublin Castle to take possession of his. 
 rectory, he received a letter from Varina, who was 
 now residing on her estate in the country. In the 
 letter she kindly inquires as to his health and Church 
 preferments, and generally upbraids him for his- 
 fickleness in love, and hints that now her hand, 
 her heart, and purse were at his disposal. Swift's 
 reply was severe, but not so sarcastic as that professor 
 who was plied by a young lady in the same way, 
 and who returned for answer : " Give your purse 
 
124 SWIFT. 
 
 to the poor, your heart to the Lord, and your hand 
 to him who asks it." 
 
 Swift placed before Miss Warring — it is not Varina 
 now — the fact that much had happened since the 
 time, eight years ago, when he fled from her presence 
 in Kilroot, to bury himself in politics and literature ; 
 affirms that his change of temper and style of letter 
 to her was not owing to thoughts of a new mistress; 
 " I declare," he says, " upon the word of a Christian 
 and a gentleman, it is not; neither had I ever 
 thoughts, of being married to any other person but 
 yourself." He goes on to offer her yet his love on 
 certain conditions. She had been inquisitorial in her 
 letter to him. He in return is-nowjn^uisitorial to 
 her. " Are you," he^asts, " in a condition to manage 
 domestic affairs with an income of perhaps less than 
 three hundred a year .' Have you such an inclination 
 to make us both as happy as you can .' Will you 
 be ready to engage in these methods I shall give 
 you, to the improvement of your mind, so as to make 
 us entertaining company for each other, without being 
 miserable when we are neither visiting nor visited } '' 
 If so, he intimates his willingness to wed her. 
 
 " Such conditignSi" says Thackeray, " no young 
 lady with" ar-spafk- of pride could comply with." 
 
 I am not an adept in love matters, like Mr. 
 Thackeray, and therefore do not pretend to judge 
 the conditions with which no young lady could com- 
 ply. I venture to think, however, that all sorts of 
 conditions have been complied with in the court of 
 love. Swift ends his letter thus : " I singled you 
 
THE LOVER. 125 
 
 out, at first, from the rest of women, and I expect 
 not to be used like a common lover." 
 
 The letter is thoroughly characteristic of Swift, 
 outspoken, perhaps a little impolite, but withal sin- 
 cerely genuine, and such as could give no offence 
 to any young lady who really understood him. I 
 am afraid, however, that she did not understand 
 him, or she would not have trifled with his love for 
 so many years. Anyhow, this famous letter ends 
 another love chapter in the life of Swift. 
 
 Regarding this strange love episode, some have 
 severely blamed Swift, others Varina. I cannot see 
 how blame should fall on either. The story is^quickly 
 told. Swift, in Kilroot, was misunderstood, unsym- 
 pathised'with, exc'ept liy Varina. She had given him 
 some slight encouragement, at which in his loneliness 
 he grasped ; and one day in a frenzy of passion 
 he sent her a love-letter, fantastic in style, imperious 
 in tone, not wise — like much literature of that type. 
 On receipt of the letter, Varina was not prepared 
 to say " yes," nor was she quite prepared to say " no." 
 She did not exactly know her own mind, and what 
 young lady at her age does t She was not quite out 
 of her teens. In her reply she seems to have tem- 
 porised with him, which the fiery spirit of Swift 
 could not brook. She had touched his pride. She 
 had wounded his sensitive heart, and he instantly 
 resigned his living, fled from her presence, resolved 
 to blot her name from his memory and her image 
 from his heart. He succeeded. Fatal success. It 
 deepened within him th e stream of tendency to 
 
126 SWIFT. 
 
 bitterness and niiseryjwhich. coloure(Lthe whole of 
 h«~afteriife. Between the two, however, there was 
 no real love. The affinities did not agree, and both 
 might thank their stars that she at first repelled him, 
 and that he at last repelled her. 
 
 What became of poor Varina we cannot tell, but 
 we can all, at least, endorse the wish of Thackeray, 
 ■"that she met with some worthy partner, and lived 
 long enough to see her little boys laughing over Lilli- 
 put, without any arriere pensie of the great Dean." 
 
 The next and most thrilling love episode fn the 
 life of Swift was his mysterious connection with 
 Stella and Vanessa. 
 
 Had Swift been a dunce instead of a genius, he 
 would have pursued the well-known, well-beaten 
 track which leads to happiness — or what is called 
 happiness — marriage, but he despised that way, 
 Vv He must have new sensations. \XThis phase of his 
 c^acter is vividly portrayed in his Stella and 
 Vanessa connection. He tried with them the experi- 
 ment of how far friendship could be carried on with 
 the opposite sex, excluding the thought of love. Few 
 men, and still fewer women, are intellectually strong 
 enough for such an experiment. The companionship 
 of Abelard and H^loise is always dangerous. " No 
 man," said Johnson, " is perfectly safe with women." 
 Swift's acquaintanceship with Stella commenced in 
 the earlier part of his life, when resident in Moor 
 Park as Temple's secretary. An inmate of that 
 household was little Hester Johnson, six years old. 
 Swift was then one-and-twenty. He became her 
 
THE LOVER. 127 
 
 tutor. In this self-imposed task he had much pleasure, 
 because he believed in the intellectual capabilities and 
 rights of women. He had a theory as to their treat- 
 ment and education, which he held against the 
 -opinions of the world. 
 
 After Swift became Rector of Laracor, he invited 
 Hester Johnson and Mrs. Dingley, as her chaperon, 
 to Ireland. In this there was a want of worldly 
 wisdom. Swift must have known that the undefined 
 companionship of a young lady of nineteen, even 
 with a chaperon, must have set many tongues 
 a-wagging ; but he cared not. He despised the so- 
 called proprieties and prejudices of the world. 
 
 In the year 171 1, another young lady appeared on 
 the scene, one Hester Vanhomrigh by name, of 
 whom Swift said " that there was nothing ugly about 
 her but her name," which afterwards he changed to 
 Vanessa. She was young and beautiful, accomplished, 
 intellectual, and rich. She lived not far from Swift, 
 in London, with her widowed mother, who moved in 
 the best society. Swift soon became the young 
 lady's guide, philosopher, and friend. 
 
 In the field of our vision we have now both Stella 
 and Vanessa, as friends of Swift, with whom he re- 
 solved to give to the world an example of unlimited 
 friendship between the sexes, excluding the thought 
 of love. He realised what a profound pity it was 
 that the inexorable laws of society would not allow of 
 this, without the thought of love or marriage. 
 
 He felt that young ladies " lost much thereby ; 
 that they knew not what slumbered in their soul, and 
 would be aroused in them by the conversation of a 
 
128 SWIFT. 
 
 noble friend." Accordingly, Swift trained Stella and 
 Vanessa from their youth, with the view of their 
 being intellectual companions with himself. He pre- 
 scribed their studies, watched over them with deep 
 interest, gave them maxims for their guidance in 
 life, different from the maxims of the world. But, 
 alas, brilliant as their intellects were, they were not 
 strong enough for the ordeal through which they had 
 to pass. Their intellectuality degenerated into love, 
 their love into passion, their passion into rivalry, 
 their rivalry into jealousy, and the end of it was 
 misery to all the three. This is the key to many of 
 the difficulties which we shall encounter in the 
 strange narrative of Swift's dealings with these 
 illustrious ladies. 
 
 Regarding Swift's connection with Stella, it has 
 been asserted by most of his biographers that he was 
 married to her, by the Bishop of Clogher, in the year 
 1716. This I do not believe. The first to promul- 
 gate the rumour publicly was Lord Orrery. His 
 statement has been accepted without hesitation by 
 one biographer after another, and asserted by them 
 with as much confidence as if they had been present 
 at the ceremony. 
 
 The burden of proof must rest upon Lord Orrery, 
 who first made the assertion. 
 
 His narrative is as follows : 
 
 " Stella's real name was Johnson. She was the 
 daughter of Sir William Temple's steward, and the 
 concealed, but undoubted, wife of Dr. Swift. I can- 
 not tell how long she remained in England, or 
 whether she made more journeys than one to Ireland 
 
THE LOVER. 129 
 
 after Sir William Temple's death; but, if my in- 
 formations are right, she was married to Dr. Swift in 
 the year 1716, by Dr. Ashe, then Bishop of Clogher." 
 Let us carefully examine this narrative. It con- 
 sists of two statements. First, that Stella was the 
 daughter of Sir William Temple's land steward, 
 and that Sir William bequeathed to her in his will 
 one thousand pounds, as an acknowledgment of her 
 father's faithful services. My contention is that this 
 statement is false. I admit that there may be doubt 
 as to who the father of Stella really was, but there 
 can be no doubt that, whoever he was, he was not 
 Sir William Temple's land steward. Nor is it true 
 that Sir William left her a legacy in acknowledgment 
 of her father's faithful services. 
 
 Temple was dead, and Stella a girl ten years old, 
 when her mother married the late Sir William's land 
 steward, a man named Morse. 
 
 This proves to demonstration that Lord Orrery's 
 first statement is false. 
 
 At this point a deeply interesting and important 
 question arises. If Stella was not the daughter of Sir 
 William Temple's land steward, whose daughter was 
 she.' 
 
 The orthodox opinion, which has been accepted 
 by nearly all Swift's biographers, is that Stella was 
 the daughter of a Dutch merchant. 
 
 Recently, however, when making research in the 
 British Museum for documents bearing on the life of 
 Swift, I discovered accidentally an extraordinary 
 leading article in The Gentleman's Magazine, of date 
 November, 1757, which professes to give a secret clue 
 
130 SWIFT. 
 
 to the real parentage both of Swift and Stella. The 
 writer asserts that they were both the children of Sir 
 William Temple. He says: "When Sir William 
 Temple went to reside at Moor Park, he brought 
 down with him one summer a gentlewoman in the 
 character of a housekeeper, whose name was Johnson, 
 the widow of a merchant, and with her a daughter 
 named Esther, who was brought up and educated by 
 Sir William Temple, and whom the world soon 
 declared to be Sir William's daughter, all the more 
 .that her features bore a strong resemblance to those 
 of Sir William, and no one could be at a loss to 
 determine what relation she had to that gentleman. 
 And, could the striking likeness have been over- 
 looked. Sir William's uncommon regard for her, and 
 his attention to her education, must have convinced 
 every unprejudiced person that Miss Hetty Johnson 
 was the daughter of one who moved in a higher sphere 
 than a Dutch trader. The respect that Sir William 
 affected to show the child induced his family to copy 
 his example ; and the neighbouring families behaving 
 in the same manner, she early lost all that servility 
 that must have tinged her manners and behaviour, 
 had she been brought up in dependence and without 
 any knowledge of her real condition. When or 
 where Sir William thought proper to acquaint her 
 with the history of her birth, we profess not to know; 
 but that he did inform her of the secret we have 
 reason to presume from the following circumstances : 
 " As soon as she was woman enough to be trusted 
 with her own conduct, she left her mother and Moor 
 
THE LOVER. 131 
 
 Park, and went to Ireland to reside, by the order 
 of Sir William, who was yet alive. She was con- 
 ducted there by Swift ; but of this I am not so positive 
 as I am that her mother parted with her, as one 
 who was never to see her again." 
 
 This article was written, be it remembered, during 
 the lifetime of Stella's mother; indeed, the writer 
 of it states that he had seen her in the autumn of 
 1742. Anyhow, the narrator's last sentence is un- 
 doubtedly and strikingly true, for there is no evidence 
 whatever that after Stella left Moor Park for 
 Ireland she ever saw her mother more. 
 
 The narrator's next statement is also true — that 
 Stella made surprising advances toward perfection 
 under the tuition of Dr. Swift. In her poem, dated 
 30th Nov., 1721, entitled, "Stella to Dr. Swift on 
 his Birthday," we see that she attributed all that 
 was excellent in her to his instructions. Well she 
 might. Young Swift was her first companion in 
 play, and her first companion in study. He was 
 the first to guide her little hand in writing, and the 
 first to guide her little mind in thinking. 
 
 The narrator goes on to say : " It is not surprising 
 that her affection towards the Dean should be so 
 great, when we recollect that it commenced from 
 her earlier age, at a time when she thought that 
 affection entirely innocent ; that it was increased by 
 Sir William often recommending her tender innocence 
 to the protection of Swift, as she had no declared 
 male relation that could be her defender. It was 
 from Sir William's own lessons that she received the 
 
 K 2 
 
132 SWIFT. 
 
 first rules for her future conduct, which were after- 
 wards continued by the Dean. 
 
 "When Stella went to Ireland, a marriage between, 
 her and the Dean could not be foreseen ; but when 
 she thought proper to communicate to her friends 
 the Dean's proposal, and her approbation of it, it 
 then became absolutely necessary for that person, 
 who alone knew the secret history of the parties 
 concerned, to reveal what otherwise might have been- 
 buried in oblivion. But was the Dean to blame 
 because he was ignorant of his natural relation to 
 Stella?" The narrator here states, as delicately 
 as language will permit, that Swift and Stella. 
 
 WERE BOTH CHILDREN OF SiR WiLLIAM TeMPLE. 
 A strange story this, almost incredible ! But these 
 were strange times, and they did strange things a 
 century and a half ago. 
 
 Yet, strange and incredible as this story may 
 appear to us, it was believed by Dr. Delany, the 
 intimate friend of Swift. The story told by Delany 
 is this: One day, about the time of the marriage, 
 as he was entering the library of the Archbishop of 
 Dublin, Swift passed out, looking fierce and wild,, 
 without speaking to him. When he entered the 
 library he found the Archbishop in tears. " Sir," said: 
 he, "you have just this moment passed the most- 
 miserable man on earth, but as to the cause of that 
 misery you must never ask a question." Delanv 
 thought that the cause of this grief was a revelation 
 by the Archbishop to Swift of his relation to Stella. 
 
 The most of Swift's biographers fix the date of" 
 
THE LOVER. 133 
 
 this scene in 17 16. Monck Mason, however, has 
 proved conclusively that neither this scene nor the 
 pretended marriage of Swift could possibly have 
 taken place that year. Yet it is highly probable that 
 the scene referred to did take place some time, as 
 we cannot believe that Dr. Delany would tell the 
 world a deliberate falsehood. What, then, was the 
 nature of Swift's misery, which with tears the Arch- 
 bishop entreated Delany not to inquire into ? Cer- 
 tainly not the absurd theory of Sir Walter Scott, 
 that it was the confession of Swift to his Grace, 
 that physically he was not fit for marriage. That 
 reason is simply absurd. Can any sane man believe 
 that a confession from Swift, that he was not a 
 marrying man, could cause the Archbishop to shed 
 tears ? 
 
 Our narrator supplies us with a much more likely 
 and reasonable cause. "When Stella," he says, 
 "thought proper to communicate to her friends the 
 Dean's proposal, and her approbation of it, it then 
 became absolutely necessary for that person who 
 alone knew the secret history of the parties con- 
 cerned, to reveal what otherwise might have been 
 buried in oblivion." 
 
 Who was that person who alone knew the secret 
 history of the parties concerned ? Doubtless, it was 
 Mrs. Dingley. If not a cadet of the Temple family, 
 she, at least, was a retainer in it, and likely to know 
 -the family secrets. She was Stella's chaperon, and 
 as such, if she became cognisant of anything that 
 Tvas likely to lead to a marriage between Swift and 
 
i34 SWIFT. 
 
 Stella, it then became imperative on her to reveal 
 either to them or to the Archbishop that which other- 
 wise might have been buried in oblivion. Whether 
 this was the cause of the Archbishop's tears, or 
 whether the epoch of this discovery was on Swift's 
 birthday, which he ever afterwards bewailed — who 
 can tell ? This, at least, we know for certain, that 
 shortly after this alleged scene, Swift and Stella were 
 never again seen together without a third party. 
 This also we know for fact, that about this time Swift 
 said, " that the only woman in the world who could 
 make him happy as a wife was the only woman in 
 the world who could not be his wife." Strange 
 language, which has never yet been satisfactorily 
 explained. 
 
 The narrator goes on to say, " that Swift admired- 
 her, he loved her, he pitied her ; and when fate had' 
 placed the everlasting barrier between them, their 
 affection became a true Platonic love, if not some- 
 thing more exalted." 
 
 Forster declares that at no time was Swift's love.- 
 for Stella aught else " than Platonic and fatherly." 
 
 The narrator ends thus: "The days of Stella, 
 were shortened mainly by the knowledge she. 
 obtained of her unhappy situation." 
 
 It is evident that some of Swift's biographers had. 
 heard of this article, but equally evident that they 
 had never read or examined it, but simply ignored 
 it as unworthy of belief. Why ? Because, say they,, 
 it can be proved that Sir William Temple was 
 Ambassador at the Hague at the time of Swift's 
 
THE LOVER. 135 
 
 birth, and had been there for a year before. True, 
 but Ambassadors' movements are sometimes ubiquitous, 
 and not always to be depended upon. 
 
 Was it impossible for Sir William Temple, who 
 knew the Swift family intimately, to have paid them 
 a short visit in Ireland during his ambassadorial 
 term of office in Holland ? I have caused the am- 
 bassadorial State papers of Sir William to be 
 examined, and nothing can be proved from them, 
 either for or against this theory. I have myself 
 examined Sir William^s letters, sent from the Hague 
 to King William and his Ministers, and certainly there 
 is a strange silence for a time, sufficient to admit of 
 a visit to Ireland. Ambassadors even then had the. 
 power to travel quickly, and secretly too, when it 
 suited their purpose. Whether Sir William ever 
 made such a visit there is no evidence to show. 
 Non possumtis, however, should not be said either in 
 science or theology, or even as to the goings to and 
 fro of an Ambassador of a century and a half ago. 
 But, even granting that it was impossible for Temple 
 to visit Ireland during his term of office, was it 
 equally impossible for Mrs. Swift to have visited the 
 Hague ? 
 
 We know for fact that Mrs. Swift was a beau- 
 tiful, but flighty and peculiar woman. On one 
 occasion she took lodgings in Dublin, and told the 
 landlady that the rooms were taken by her for the 
 purpose " of receiving the visits of a gallant." The 
 gallant on this occasion, at least, turned out to be her 
 son Jonathan, Rector of Laracor. This may appear an 
 
136 SWIFT. 
 
 insignificant and trifling reminiscence. True, but 
 when we are doubting, or jealously trying to discover 
 the direction of the wind, a straw can sometimes 
 show how it is blowing. 
 
 Again, the conduct of Mrs. Swift was, to say the 
 least, most peculiar towards her infant son Jonathan, 
 It is a fact undoubted that the child Jonathan, when 
 a year old, was surreptitiously taken at midnight and 
 conveyed on board ship to Whitehaven. Mrs. Swift, 
 when she discovered the whereabouts of her child, 
 allowed the woman who stole him to retain the 
 child three years in her possession, under the frivolous 
 pretext that he might not be able to bear a return 
 voyage. 
 
 From such unnatural conduct one is almost 
 tempted to believe that Mrs. Swift was only the 
 nominal mother, entrusted with a charge not her 
 own. 
 
 Another incident in the conduct of Mrs. Swift 
 which seems not a little strange was the advice 
 that she gave to her son Jonalthan on his return 
 from college, at the age of twenty-one, without a 
 future plan in life. She, a poor widow living on the 
 charity of friends, could do nothing for him; but 
 said: 
 
 "Go, my son, in God's name, to Sir William 
 Temple, and he will advise you what to do." 
 
 Strange, is it not, that she should presume to 
 send her son to the care and protection of Temple — 
 a proud autocrat, the counsellor and confidant of 
 his sovereign, who at the age of fifty refused to be 
 
THE LOVER. 137 
 
 Poreign Secretary of State, doubtful as to whether 
 iis country "was worthy of salvation at his illus- 
 trious hands " ? Stranger still, that Sir William 
 received young Swift cheerfully, treated him kindly, 
 ■ examined into his classical and philosophical attain- 
 ments, prescribed for him a course of study, and 
 strangest of all, that he should himself superintend it. 
 The important question now arises. Is this nar- 
 rative really worthy of belief? Who was the writer 
 of it? I cannot tell. The signature is, C. M. P. G. 
 N. S. T. N. S. I have tried to decipher these initials, 
 but have failed. The same writer has contributed 
 to The Gentleman's Magazine, of 1757, several able 
 articles on "Ancient Coins." A correspondent, in 
 reply to one of these articles, call^ him Mr. C. S. 
 This is pretty much all that we know about him. 
 We may rest satisfied, however, as to this, that the 
 writer must have been a gentleman, not merely of 
 -culture and learning, but of distinction in literature, 
 otherwise this narrative had never appeared as the 
 leading article in The Gentleman' s Magazine — a 
 magazine, be it remembered, which, in its day, 
 occupied in the literary world an equal position to 
 that which The Contemporary and The Nineteenth 
 ■Century do now. 
 
 Another strong point in favour of the narrative 
 is the fact that it was written and published in the 
 blaze of noonday, when Jack Temple, Sir William's 
 heir, was living, as well as Stella's mother ; yet no 
 one dared to impugn its truthfulness. This proves 
 •that the editor and publishers of the magazine 
 
1 38 SWIFT. 
 
 must themselves have believed the truthfulness of 
 the narrative, otherwise they had not run the risk 
 of an action for defamation being raised against 
 them by the surviving relatives of the parties 
 impugned. 
 
 If we can believe this strange story — and my 
 readers must judge as to that for themselves — then 
 Swift acted nobly, heroically, rather than tarnish the 
 name of Temple and his mother, and carried the 
 secret with him, through life, to his grave. 
 
 However, be this as it may, we must now gather 
 up the thread of our story, and proceed with our 
 narrative. 
 
 Lord Orrery's next statement is, "That Stella 
 was the concealed, but undoubted, wife of Dr. Swift," 
 and adds, " If my informations are correct, she was 
 married to Dr. Swift in the year 17 16, by Dr. Ashe, 
 Bishop of Clogher." 
 
 We have just proved that Lord Orrery's last 
 statement regarding Stella was utterly false. We 
 have therefore reason to receive with caution this 
 other statement regarding Swift's marriage. The 
 question then is. Was Swift married to Stella, as 
 Lord Orrery asserts? Mr. Leslie Stephen says that 
 "the fact is not proved, nor disproved, nor to my 
 mind is the question of its truth of much im- 
 portance." * I beg, respectfully, to differ from Mr. 
 Stephen, as to the importance of the question. To 
 my thinking, it is the most important problem to 
 solve in the life of Swift, as I hope to prove before 
 
 * " English Men of Letters," page 134. 
 
THE LOVER. 139. 
 
 this chapter is ended. Indeed, without a solution of 
 this difficulty, it is utterly impossible to interpret his 
 life satisfactorily. Forster, whom the judgment of 
 the world has placed, and justly placed, in the first 
 rank of biographers, says that "he can find na 
 evidence of a marriage that is at all reasonably 
 sufficient." Pity that he did not leave behind, ere 
 he died, the reasons which led him, and which 
 should lead us, to that conclusion. It shall, there- 
 fore, be my endeavour, however feebly and imper- 
 fectly, to perform that work. 
 
 My contention is that Swift was not married to 
 Stella, or to any one else. 
 
 The first to promulgate publicly this marriage 
 story was Lord Orrery ; and Swift's biographers 
 have believed it, almost entirely, on his lordship's 
 authority. 
 
 The first question that I must -ask is. What 
 authority Lord Orrery had for the statement that 
 Stella was the concealed, but undoubted, wife of 
 Dr. Swift } His lordship gives none ; he only adds 
 the words, " If my informations are right." 
 
 The next question is. Did Lord Orrery himself 
 believe his own assertion ? 
 
 My conviction is that he did not believe it. 
 In a letter written by his lordship on December 
 4th, 1742, regarding an outrage committed on the 
 Dean when his mind was clouded, he says : " Good 
 God, Dr. Swift beaten, and marked with stripes, by 
 a beast in human shape — one Wilson. A bachelor 
 will seldom find among all his kindred so true a 
 
■140 SWIFT. 
 
 nurse, so faithful a friend, as one tied to him by the 
 double chain of duty and affection. A wife could 
 not be banished from his chamber, or his unhappy 
 hours of retirement. Nor had the Dean felt a blow, 
 or wanted a companion, had he been married, or in 
 other words, had Stella lived." It is evident from 
 this letter that Orrery assumes that Swift was a 
 bachelor ; that he was not married, and had never 
 been married ; but thinks that if Stella had lived he 
 would probably have married her. At the time 
 ■when this letter was written, in 1742, Stella had 
 been dead for many years, and Swift was a maniac. 
 
 Six years later Orrery published his book on 
 Swift. It is impossible to believe, " that during 
 these intervening years, his lordship could have 
 discovered any evidence of Swift's marriage, or his 
 language had been different." During these inter- 
 vening years, however, he discovered Swift's con- 
 tempt for him, and, accordingly, did his best to 
 blacken the character of the Dean. 
 
 The next writer on Swift was Dr. Delany, in 
 1754. He accepts the statement of Orrery, regard- 
 ing the marriage, without examination, and without 
 giving any reason why he did so. 
 
 This assertion of Orrery has also been ac- 
 cepted by Deane Swift and Hawkesworth without 
 hesitation or examination. But Orrery's first false 
 statement gains no additional validity by the re- 
 iteration of these men. Johnson's "Life of Swift" 
 comes next in order. He says: "Soon after 1716, 
 Swift was privately married to Mrs. Johnson, as Dr. 
 
THE LOVER. 14c 
 
 Madden told me." This Madden was a fanatical 
 prophetic writer. He received the story from young 
 Sheridan. 
 
 This leads us to consider what evidence Sheridan, 
 had for the marriage. 
 
 When a boy, young Sheridan received the story- 
 from his father. Can we suppose that the trusty 
 friend of Swift would divulge an important story 
 like this, during Swift's lifetime, to a mere boy — 
 for he was only seventeen years old when his father 
 died .' Can we believe that this youth was the sole- 
 custodian of such a story for half a century, without 
 divulging it, when it would have become the common' 
 property of Swift's political and other enemies ? Yet, 
 the first to promulgate it publicly was Lord Orrery, 
 seven years after Swift's death. The recollection of 
 a man of fifty-seven, regarding what was related to 
 him when a boy, is not to be relied upon, more 
 especially, as I have proved elsewhere, that on one 
 occasion young Sheridan told a deliberate falsehood, 
 regarding Swift. 
 
 Another narrative is told by a Mrs. Whiteway,, 
 "that, shortly before Stella's death. Dean Swift sat 
 by her bedside and talked to her in a tone of voice 
 too low for Mrs. Whiteway to hear. At length she 
 heard the Dean say, ' Well, my dear, if you wish it, 
 it shall be owned;' to which Stella answered, 'Too, 
 late.' " 
 
 The word marriage was never mentioned. Sir 
 Walter Scott says : " There can be no doubt thaL 
 such was the secret to be owned." 
 
«42 SWIFT. 
 
 I think there remains great doubt. Granting, 
 ■even, that this rather curious old lady heard dis- 
 tinctly, was there nothing else within the limits of 
 possibility that she might desire to be owned except 
 marriage ? 
 
 The story seems to want internal authenticity. 
 It is easy to understand how it might be' too late 
 to perform the ceremony of marriage; but difficult 
 to conceive how, at any time, it could be too late 
 to acknowledge a marriage that had already been 
 •celebrated. 
 
 The next writer on the subject is George Monck 
 Berkeley, in 17S9. After getting some gossip from a 
 Mrs. Hearn, he goes on to copy Sheridan's account 
 of the marriage, as related by him. He adds : " In 
 1716 they were married by the Bishop of Clogher, 
 who himself related the circumstance to Bishop 
 Berkeley, by whose relict the story was communicated 
 to me." Impossible. Bishop Berkeley died in 17 17 — 
 the year after the pretended marriage — and Berkeley 
 was at that time in Italy, where he had resided 
 during several preceding years. 
 
 It is amusing to trace the rise and progress of 
 this absurd myth. 
 
 Lord Orrery receives the rumour as gospel ; Dr. 
 Delany accepts it ; Deane Swift, Esq., adopts it ; 
 Hawkesworth reiterates it; Johnson gets it from 
 old Madden ; old Madden gets it from young 
 Sheridan ; young Sheridan gets it, when a boy, 
 from his father, and, after half a century, expands 
 it into a melodramatic scene, fit for the stage; the 
 
THE LOVER. 143 
 
 old wives of that period gossip about it ; until at last 
 it becomes undisputed history, and gives Jeffrey and 
 Macaulay the opportunity of persecuting, not the 
 man, but the memory of him who, a century and a 
 half ago, mauled the Whigs unmercifully. 
 
 This pretended marriage is " like the duel in The 
 School for Scandal. Nobody denied that Sir Peter 
 was seriously wounded ; as to that, there was no 
 manner of doubt, the only question being, whether it 
 was by a sword or a bullet ; when in walks Sir Peter, 
 alive and well. The duel rested on the positive 
 assertion of Sir Benjamin Backbite. The marriage 
 depends on that of his prototype — Lord Orrery." 
 
 Although the evidence of this alleged marriage 
 should rest upon those who assert it as fact, and 
 although they have failed to put us in possession of 
 evidence, as Forster says, "that is at all reasonably 
 sufficient," yet we need not rest here, for the nega- 
 tive evidence against the marriage is strong and 
 conclusive. 
 
 We have the evidence of Dr. Lyon, Swift's physi- 
 cian in ordinary, who tells us that the rumour of 
 marriage "is a hearsay story, very ill-founded." 
 Mrs. Brent, the Dean's housekeeper, did not believe 
 it. Mrs. Dingley, Stella's chaperon — who was never 
 separate from her for a single day all the time they 
 lived in Ireland, and must have known of it if there 
 had been a marriage — laughed at the story as an 
 " idle tale, founded only on suspicion." 
 
 But the strongest evidence is that of Swift and 
 Stella themselves. 
 
144 SWIFT. 
 
 There is indirect evidence, of a very strong and' 
 convincing kind, from the verses they addressed to 
 each other on their birthdays. We find in the poem 
 he wrote two months before she died, these words : 
 "With friendship and esteem possessed, I ne'er ad- 
 mitted love a guest." 
 
 What insult and mockery if Stella had been his 
 wife ! It is also worthy of note, from the verses 
 that Stella addressed to Swift, that the thought of 
 marriage with him did not cross her mind. 
 
 If she cherished such a hope in her youth, and 
 it is highly probable that she did, that illusive hope 
 was dispelled as early as 1704. That year, one Tisdal 
 appears as a suitor for her hand. He writes to Swift 
 as her acknowledged guardian. In Swift's reply he 
 inquires as to his income and future prospects. 
 
 Tisdal writes again — I suspect, at the suggestion 
 of Stella — hinting that he was jealous of Swift him- 
 self being a rival for her hand. This was the crucial 
 test of the nature of Swift's affection for her. In 
 his reply to Tisdal, Swift admires her as the best 
 of womankind; but declares, upon the honour of a 
 Christian and gentleman, that he has no intention of 
 ever marrying her. 
 
 Stella now knew her fate. Swift encouraged the 
 suit of Tisdal; Stella rejected it. She preferred 
 being the confidant and companion of the brilliant 
 Swift, rather than the wife of the commonplace Tisdal 
 
 Who will venture to say that she was wrong ? Who 
 will dare to say that she was not infinitely happier in . 
 being the friend of Swift than the wife of Tisdal i 
 
THE LOVER. 145 
 
 I think the story is told with too much pity for 
 Stella. It was not a sorrowful life. It was not a 
 sad destiny, to be the star to such a man as Swift. 
 She was " his good angel, his other self," and Swift 
 has given to her immortality. 
 
 Another argument against the marriage theory is 
 that the name she signed to her will was Esther 
 Johnson — I believe she had no other. She adds 
 " Spinster." If she was really married to Swift, why 
 should she burden her conscience a month before 
 death with a deliberate, gratuitous, and hypocritical 
 lie, by describing herself as an unmarried person, 
 when there was no necessity for her so doing ? 
 
 The assertors of the marriage tell us that the 
 object of the ceremony was to clear her character in 
 after ages ; but, if she was married, she is here trying 
 to mystify posterity by adding " Spinster." 
 
 Another indirect proof against this mythical mar- 
 riage is to be found in Swift's letters to his friends 
 Worrell, Stopford, and old Sheridan, where he always 
 persists in calling Stella not wife, but " friend." 
 
 There is proof also in the beautiful prayers which 
 he composed for Stella, and read at her death-bed, in 
 the presence of Mrs. Dingley. The following is a 
 quotation from the second prayer : 
 
 " O all-powerful Being, the least motion of whose 
 will can create or destroy a world, pity us, the mourn- 
 ful friends of thy distressed servant, who sink under 
 the weight of her present condition, and the fear of 
 losing the most valuable ol our friends ^ 
 
 The following quotation is from the third prayer : 
 
146 SWIFT. 
 
 " Forgive the sorrow and weakness of those among 
 «s, who sink under the grief and terror of losing so 
 dear and useful a friend." 
 
 Another quotation will close this negative evi- 
 dence. 
 
 One Sunday evening at midnight, in the dreary 
 Deanery of St. Patrick's, sat the aged Swift in agony, 
 writing these words : 
 
 "This day being Sunday, January '28, 1727-8, 
 about eight o'clock at night, a servant brought me 
 a note, with an account of the death of the truest, 
 most virtuous, and valuable friend that I, or perhaps 
 any other person, ever was blessed with. She ex- 
 pired about six in the evening of tjiis day, and as 
 soon as I am left alone, which is about eleven at 
 night, I resolve, for my own satisfaction, to say some- 
 thing of her life and character." 
 
 He writes in agony until past midnight, and then 
 he says, " his head aches, and he can write no more." 
 Two nights after he resumes the pen, and goes on to 
 say : " This is the night of the funeral, which my 
 sickness will not suffer me to attend. It is now nine 
 at night, and I am removed into another apartment 
 that I may not see the light in the church, which is 
 just over against the window of rhy bedroom." 
 
 More pathetic words than these were never written. 
 That burial night was the darkest night in the life of 
 Swift. That night, when the grave closed over Stella, 
 " darkness and despair closed over Swift." 
 
 What is the conclusion of the whole matter? 
 Simply this : If Swift was married to Stella, then. 
 
THE LOVER. 
 
 W 
 
 either these poems, letters, and prayers which I have 
 quoted are forgeries, or Swift is the most hypocritical 
 and blasphemous villain the world has ever known. 
 
 Believe the latter who will ; I, for one, cannot. 
 
 I have now endeavoured to prove my contention 
 that Stella was not the daughter of Sir William 
 Temple's steward, and that Swift was not married to 
 Stella. Whether I have succeeded I must leave to 
 the judgment of my readers to decide. 
 
 We shall now leave the story of Swift and Stella 
 to consider the history of Swift's connection with 
 Vanessa. 
 
 SWIFT AND VANESSA. 
 
 Vanessa was a beauty of the Dutch type. " A 
 white witch," as Swift called her, with " a baby face," 
 somewhat masculine in her ways. Swift represents 
 " Pallas as mistaking her for a boy." She was clever, 
 impulsive, and imperious. An apt scholar, talked 
 French, read philosophy, learned Swift's maxims, 
 and applied them cleverly. Brilliant in conversation, 
 an art critic, kept behind the age in dress, sympa- 
 thised with Swift's political views, and flattered him. 
 Such was Vanessa. 
 
 It is impossible to know the exact time when 
 Swift became aware of the fact that Vanessa really 
 loved him. Had he been an ordinary man, as soon 
 as he became conscious of Vanessa's love, and felt 
 that he could not reciprocate it, he would have 
 crushed it instantly. But Swift was no ordinary 
 man. The keen sensitivity of his nature — for with 
 
 L 2 
 
148 SWIFT. 
 
 all his cynicism he had a generous heart — would not 
 allow him to do this suddenly, but gently, and in his 
 own way. This was where Swift erred, but it was an 
 error of judgment, not of heart. He judged Vanessa 
 by the standard of Stella. She, too, had entertained 
 feelings for him which he could not reciprocate. As 
 soon as she discovered this she gladly accepted his 
 friendship instead of love. Swift, doubtless, thought 
 that Vanessa would make the same compromise 
 "when she was convinced that there was the same 
 necessity." 
 
 All that was required was a distinct under- 
 standing. He anticipated that this would be arrived 
 at in due time. Swift had miscalculated ; the 
 character of Vanessa was very different from that 
 of Stella. It is difficult to find the exact word of 
 censure that will apply with perfect exactness to 
 this error of Swift's. " Philandering " is the best 
 that occurs to us at the moment. However, be this 
 as it may, we must proceed with our narrative. ' 
 
 Swift refused at first to treat her love seriously, be- 
 lieving it to be only a girlish fancy that would soon pass 
 away. Time drifted on, and so did Vanessa's love. 
 
 As soon as Swift thoroughly realised that her 
 love was no youthful fancy, but had the " consistency 
 and dignity of truth," he at once became serious, 
 and told her the conditions on which alone they 
 could have intercourse and communion with one 
 another. At the beginning of this chapter, I hinted 
 at a secret key which could alone unlock the mystery 
 of his connection with these illustrious ladies. Swift's 
 
THE LOVER. 149 
 
 settled conviction was that there should be "un- 
 limited friendship'' among the sexes, excluding the 
 thought of love.* 
 
 This was what Swift offered to Vanessa — not love, 
 but unlimited friendship. This she accepted as the 
 condition of their intercourse, as is proved by her 
 correspondence with him during the whole course of 
 her after life. 
 
 Every student of Swift knows that Swift's cor- 
 respondence with Vanessa, and his poem to her, are 
 the only reliable and authentic evidence extant from 
 which we can form a correct judgment of his conduct 
 towards her. This, however, is not the evidence on 
 which some of Swift's illustrious biographers of this 
 century have formed their judgment. Sir Walter 
 Scott, whom I absolve from all malignity against 
 Swift, unfortunately and unwittingly, for want of 
 time, accepts Sheridan's representation of the tragical 
 but mythical interview between Swift and Vanessa, 
 when he left the Abbey in fury, remounted his horse, 
 and rode back to Dublin. Lord Jeffrey in The 
 Edinburgh Review, criticises Sir Walter's "Life of 
 Swift," but accepts his verdict on this point, and 
 animadverts on what he is pleased to call Swift's 
 infamous conduct to Vanessa. Lord Macaulay ac- 
 cepts Lord Jeffrey's verdict, and Thackeray adopts 
 Lord Macaulay's judgment as at once safe, fashion- 
 able, infallible, and final. 
 
 * Swift entertained then what would even now be called very- 
 advanced opinions regarding the intellectual capabilities and 
 rights of woman. 
 
150 SWIFT. 
 
 What I censure in these writers is, that they 
 should, without hesitation, have adopted the erroneous 
 opinion of Swift's original biographers, who had not 
 sufficient material to form a correct judgment upon the 
 subject. I protest against such conduct as cruelly un- 
 just and monstrously unfair. In order, therefore, to 
 form a correct judgment regarding this painful episode 
 in the life of Swift, I must be allowed to quote from 
 the correspondence that passed between Swift and 
 Vanessa, which, be it remembered, was not in the 
 hands of Swift's original biographers. 
 
 In June, 17 13, Swift leaves London for Dublin, 
 to be installed as Dean. After the installation 
 ceremony, he retires to Laracor, and writes to 
 
 Vanessa thus : 
 
 July 8, 1713. 
 I stayed but a fortnight in Dublin, very sick, and returned 
 not one visit of a hundred that were made to me, but all to the 
 Dean, and none to the Doctor. I am riding here for life, and I 
 think I am somewhat better. 
 
 I told you when I left England I would endeavour to forget 
 everything there, and would write as seldom as I could. I did, 
 indeed, design one general round of letters to my friends, but 
 my health has not yet suffered me. I design to pass the great 
 part of the time that I spend in Ireland here, in the cabin 
 where I am now writing ; neither will I leave the kingdom till 
 I am sent for, and if they have no farther service for me, I shall 
 never see England again. 
 
 So go to your Dukes, and Duchesses, and leave me to 
 Goodman Bumford, and Patrick Dolan, of Clanduggan. Adieu. 
 
 Only three short months previous to the writing 
 of this letter Swift had received from Vgaiessa-tteB 
 confession of her love : 
 
 Vanessa, not in years a score. 
 Dreams of a gown of forty-four. 
 
THE LOVER. 151 
 
 One of his lessons she had learned well — that 
 true friendship has no reserve, and that every one 
 should have the courage of their opinions, and that 
 
 Common forms were not designed 
 Directors to a noble mind. 
 
 Swift's maiden pupil replied : 
 
 I'll let you see. 
 
 My actions with your rules agree. 
 
 She told her love, and fairly argued it out. 
 
 It has been thought, that because Swift at that 
 moment did not break off all connection with her, 
 he must have given her encouragement. I have 
 already stated that Swift offered her not love but 
 unlimited friendship, and I have quoted this letter, 
 the firsTwETcHTie wrote to her after this compact, to 
 prove that he was faithfully keeping to it. 
 
 " I told you," he says, " when I left England I 
 would endeavour to forget everything there, and that 
 I would write as seldom as I could." 
 
 This does not sound as the language of one who 
 had given her encouragement as a lover. Swift adds : 
 
 " If they " — the Ministry — " have no further need 
 for me, I shall never see England again." 
 
 What an insult these words would have been, if 
 he had given her encouragement as a lover ! 
 
 The Ministry, however, had need of Swift, and 
 that quickly, to settle Cabinet quarrels. Accordingly, 
 Swift starts immediately for London. Shortly after 
 his arrival, Vanessa throws herself on him for assist- 
 ance and advice, and for guidance in her studies. 
 
1 52 SWIFT. 
 
 Swift renews the friendship. Vanessa now dis- 
 tinctly understands and conforms to Swift's conditions 
 of companionship. 
 
 There is now no evidence of obstreperous love on 
 her part. If it exists, it is subdued. 
 
 Time passes, and with it the Harley Government. 
 Bolingbroke has become Premier. The Queen has 
 died, and Swift has retired to Letcombe. From that 
 place he writes to Vanessa thus : 
 
 " Who told you I was going to Bath ? No such 
 thing. When I am fixed anywhere, perhaps I may 
 be so gracious to let you know; but I will not 
 promise. Adieu." 
 
 Not a word of love here, nor anything savouring 
 of it ; nothing but friendship. 
 
 Vanessa now proposes to go to Ireland to look 
 after her estate near Dublin. Swift writes the fol- 
 lowing letter to dissuade her from going: 
 
 Aug. 12, 1714. 
 I had your letter last post, and before you can send me 
 another I shall set out for Ireland. I must go and take the 
 oaths, and the sooner the better. If you are in Ireland when I 
 am there I shall see you very seldom. It is not a place for any 
 freedom, but it is where everything is known in a week and 
 magnified a hundred degrees. There are rigorous laws that 
 must be passed through, but it is probable that we may meet in 
 London in winter ; or, if not, leave all to fate, that seldom comes 
 to humour our inclinations. I say all this out of the perfect 
 esteem axudt. friendship I have for you. 
 
 Can anything be franker or more manly, more 
 reasonable or judicious, than this letter ? There is 
 no attempt here at the renunciation of any old love, 
 
THE LOVER. 153 
 
 but " a decided check to the growth of new." He 
 tells her that Ireland is a place of gossips, where 
 everything is magnified a hundredfold; and, there- 
 fore, if she is there when he is, he will see her seldom, 
 as he wishes to avoid even the appearance of any- 
 thing that might give them an opportunity of using 
 the tongue of slander either against himself or her. 
 And all this out of the perfect esteem and friendship 
 he has for her. 
 
 Vanessa replies : " You once had a maxim which 
 was to act what was right and not mind what the 
 world would say. I wish you would keep to it now. 
 Pray what can be wrong in seeing and advising an 
 unhappy young woman .' I cannot imagine. You 
 cannot but know that your frowns make my life 
 unsupportable. You have taught me to distinguish, 
 and then you leave me miserable. Now all I beg is, 
 that you will for once counterfeit, since you cannot 
 otherwise, that indulgent friend you once were, till I 
 get the better of these difficulties." 
 
 She pleads here for a continuation of friendship, 
 not love. Swift had not refused to be her friend, as 
 the following letter evinces : 
 
 I will see you in a day or two, and, believe me, it goes to 
 my soul not to see you oftener. I will give you the best advice, 
 
 countenance, and assistance I can I did not imagine 
 
 you had been under difficulties ; I am sure my whole fortune 
 should go to remove them. I cannot see you to-day, I fear, 
 having affairs of my own place to do ; but pray think it not want 
 of friendship or tenderness, which I will always continue to the 
 utmost. 
 
 But out of the " perfect esteem and friendship " 
 
154 SWIFT. 
 
 he had for her he tells her that he can see her seldom, 
 and gives his reason. She ignores this, and cleverly 
 quotes his own maxim, and follows it with tragic 
 hteralness : " Act what is right, and not mind what 
 the world says." True, Vanessa, some things are 
 lawful but not expedient. Swift had tried the ex- 
 periment with Stella, and both of them had felt the 
 sharp tongue of scandal, and he had no wish to 
 repeat it. 
 
 Vanessa, however, would not be dissuaded from 
 going to Ireland. Go she would, and go she did. 
 It seems that Swift had an interview with her shortly 
 after her arrival. In a letter he sent her he con- 
 cludes thus : " I have rode a tedious journey to-day, 
 and can say no more, nor shall you know where I 
 am till I come, and then I will see you. A fig for 
 your letters and messages. Adieu." It is evident 
 that Swift is getting slightly irritated at her inju- 
 diciousness and unreasonableness. He has an inter- 
 view with her, tries to bring her to reason, likely 
 enough scolds her for breaking the conditions, which 
 they had agreed to in London, as to their future 
 intercourse, and that, if she would be judicious and 
 reasonable, he would see her as often as he could, 
 and advise her regarding the affairs of her estate, 
 which appear to have been in a mess. This inter- 
 view seems to have been useless, as shortly after- 
 wards Swift receives the following extraordinary 
 letter : 
 
 You bid me be easy, and you would see me as often, as 
 you could. You had better have said as often as you could get 
 
THE LOVER. 155 
 
 the better of your inclination so much, or as often, as you re- 
 membered there was such a one in the world. If you continue 
 to treat me as you do, you will not be made uneasy by rae long 
 It is impossible to describe what I have suffered since I saw 
 you last. I am sure I could have borne the rack much better 
 than those killing words of yours. Sometimes I have resolved 
 to die without seeing you more ; but those resolves, to your 
 misfortune, did not last long. For there is something in human 
 nature that prompts one so to find relief in this world. I must 
 give way to it, and beg you would see me, and speak kindly to 
 me, for I am sure you would not condemn any one to suffer what 
 I have done, could you but know it. The reason I write to you 
 is bepause I cannot tell it to you should I see you ; for, when I 
 begin to complain, then you are angry, and there is something 
 in your looks so awful that it strikes me dumb. Oh ! that you 
 may but have, so much regard for me left, that this complaint 
 may touch your soul with pity. I say as little as ever I can ; 
 did you but know what I thought, I am sure it would move you, 
 and believe that I cannot help telling you this and live. 
 
 Poor Vanessa ! jt is impossible not to pity her. 
 A woman's " tenderness, a woman's passion, beatiiig 
 against the loneliness, the self-absorbed loneliness of 
 genius." It is egjjaU^impossible not to pity Swift. 
 I have quoted from his letters to show that he gave 
 her no encour agement. His first letter to her from 
 Laracor was cold ; his next from Letcombe was 
 friendly; his third was dignified and judicious; his 
 last one was curt and testy. 
 
 Vanessa's first and second letters were reasonable 
 enough. Her letter of October 19th asks for Swift's 
 advice and friendship ; but in her letter of November 
 4th, only three weeks after her previous one, she 
 asks for Swift's love. Between these two last letters 
 Swift had only seen her once, and that was to scold 
 her, and to promise that if she was only judicious 
 
156 SWIFT. 
 
 and reasonablcj he would see her as often as he 
 could. We can, therefore, understand Swift's feelings 
 when he received her last letter containing this 
 sudden and unexpected burst of passionate but in- 
 judicious love. I am afraid that Vanessa was a vain 
 and imperious young lady, who foolishly imagined 
 that her youth, her fortune, and beauty, were certain 
 to captivate the Dean. She seems not to have under- 
 stood him like Stella, nor to have dreamt that it 
 was irritating for a man, especially a man like Swift, 
 to be loved without a particle of comprehension. 
 
 Swift wished to retain her as a friend; she 
 wished to attain him as a husband. What could 
 Swift do ? What could any man ,have done who did 
 not wish to marry .' 
 
 Swift tried everything which the ingenuity of a 
 good man could suggest, short of marriage, to soothe 
 and comfort her, and bring her to reason. He 
 alternately humoured and flattered, petted and 
 scolded her ; paid compliments to her intellectuality 
 and to her literary tastes ; promised her his friendship 
 and literary confidences ; told her to take exercise, to 
 ride or to walk, to read diverting books, not to fly 
 from company, but to mingle in society, and not to 
 sit on a stool moping by the fire, with her head upon 
 her hands. This calmed her, and for a while things 
 went smoothly on. He begins, shortly, to write 
 jestingly to her: 
 
 "One would think that you were in love by 
 dating your letter 20th August, by which means I 
 have received it a month before it was written." 
 
THE LOVER. 157 
 
 As time wears on he adroitly tries to direct her 
 love into another , channel. He introduces another 
 dean to her as a suitor for her hand, one Winter by 
 name ; but Vanessa evidently thought that his love 
 was as cold as his name, for she rejected him scorn- 
 fully. Another suitor came forward, and offered her 
 his hand, one Price by name ; but no, Vanessa will 
 not accept him at any price, although afterwards he 
 became Bishop of Meath, and latterly Archbishop of 
 Cash el. 
 
 She preferred the friendship of Swift to the love 
 of these men. With all Swift's cordiality of friend- 
 ship, he acts cautiously and visits her seldom, to 
 prevent the tongue of scandal. Yet, with all his 
 caution, an unpleasant rumour arises, of which 
 Vanessa writes him. Swift replies, with characteristic 
 coolness, "that is just what he had long foreseen, and 
 it must be submitted to." 
 
 Time drifts on until 1719, when, to please and 
 humour her, Swift revises his famous poem, " Cade- 
 nus and Vanessa," which he wrote in 17 13, when 
 Vanessa confessed to him her youthful love. It was 
 written by Swift, in his generous way, to appease 
 the feelings of the young maiden whose love he 
 had refused. It might well be entitled "Vanessa's 
 Apologia." I need hardly say that it was written, 
 at first, for Vanessa's use only. It was written as a 
 touching "In Memoriam " of the history of her love, 
 in a form that might be most pleasing to her. 
 
 But, as the love episode had passed through many 
 phases since then, this new edition brought it, as it 
 
158 SWIFT. 
 
 were, up to date. I shall quote the parts that 
 
 bring out most strikingly the origin and success of 
 
 her love : 
 
 But what success Vanessa met, 
 
 Is to the world a secret yet. 
 
 Whether the nymph, to please her swain, 
 
 Talks in a high romantick strain ; 
 
 Or whether he at last descends 
 
 To act with less seraphick 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. 
 
 That stanza which speaks of the success of her 
 love is neWj and it has given rise to much adverse 
 criticism. 
 
 Lord Orrery, that deceitful sycophant, who threw 
 flowers before Swift, and stones after him, has inter- 
 preted it in the vilest way which malignity could 
 
 suggest. 
 
 But what success Vanessa met, 
 Is to the world a secret yet. 
 
 Orrery, to his eternal disgrace, interprets these 
 words to the dishonour of Vanessa. It goes without 
 saying, this interpretation is utterly false. Even 
 the late Edinburgh Reviewers, Lords Jeffrey and 
 Macaulay, and the other " unrivalled truth-crushers " 
 of that age — Swift's implacable enemies, all of them 
 
 even they gave up that interpretation as utterly 
 
 untenable, and admitted, with a frankness that did 
 them honour, that the Swift and Vanessa episode is 
 absolutely pure. 
 
 Remember for whom the poem was meant. It 
 
THE LOVER. 159 
 
 was written for the private use of Vanessa only. 
 Would the Dean insult her by reminding her of her 
 dishonour ? 
 
 Remember by whose desire this poem was pub- 
 lished. Not by the desire of Swift; but by the 
 desire of Vanessa herself. Would she knowingly 
 publish that to the world, if it hinted at her dis- 
 honour } Utterly impossible. It must be confessed, 
 however, that this unfortunate stanza has been the 
 cause of much difficulty to nearly all of Swift's 
 biographers. 
 
 What, then, is the true interpretation of it ? We 
 must again use the key. At the renewal of their 
 intercourse, after the confession of her love. Swift, 
 we remember, offered not love, but unlimited friend- 
 Ship. 
 
 She accepted this as the condition of their in- 
 tercourse ; but all the while she had hoped that, 
 ultimately, she might possess him as a lover and a 
 husband. 
 
 Swift's shrewdness must have seen this. On one 
 occasion he even hints, with a bluntness that was 
 almost rude, that her pretended troubles were affec- 
 tation to obtain his companionship. 
 
 That was likely enough. But Swift had a strong 
 suspicion, all along, that even her love was largely 
 made up of affectation, and wanted sincerity. In 
 that he was perfectly mistaken. This suspicion 
 might arise in his mind, not unnaturally, from the 
 fact that after a lengthened calm, Vanessa periodi- 
 cally would break out in her letters into a wild 
 
i6q swift. 
 
 gust of passionate love, without anything having 
 occurred during the interval to account for its force 
 and suddenness, 
 
 Alas ! there might have been another cause, that 
 Swift knew not of, to account for. the sudden warmth 
 of some of her letters, apart altogether from his 
 theory of insincerity. 
 
 In a letter which Swift sent to her, of date Sth 
 July, 1 72 1, we find this passage: "Without health, 
 you will lose all desire of drinking your coffee and 
 become so low as to have no spirits" 
 
 Perhaps these words might suggest a meaning to 
 the conscience of Vanessa which did not enter into 
 Swift's thoughts. 
 
 However, be this as it may, in 1719, when this 
 poem was revised, and the stanza in question added, 
 Swift was satisfied that her love to him had been 
 constant and sincere. He now seems to have made 
 a " kind of compromise." He would add to his 
 friendship affection — not desire, not marriage. His 
 affection must still be Platonic. . This was the secret 
 that was to be known only to themselves, not to the 
 world. 
 
 Swift once asked a pungent question which bears 
 on the point now : " Why cannot two men love the 
 same woman without one or other of them trying 
 to possess her person and carry her away as his 
 booty ? " 
 
 Swift's idea o^_aJection ,towards^the opposite sex 
 was higli an^ pure. , His conception pf true' love was 
 not animalism. "Not quick beatings of the heart; 
 
THE LOVER. i6i 
 
 Stormy waves of hope ; delight in a beautiful face ; 
 sweet imaginings — all which dtsfufB that deep ocean 
 calm which is the true image of pure human love." 
 Swift refused to recognise any essential difference 
 between the love of man to man, and the love of 
 man to woman. He knew that the latter generally 
 led to passion, but he held that " this was not neces- 
 sary — simply a folly of the heart, which the head/ 
 could rectify." ' 
 
 Swift's ideal of love was founded not on Ani- 
 malism, but on Intellectualism. Tfi^s the 'secret^ I 
 believe, why the woSflanas judged cruelly Swift's con- 
 duct with these ladies, because they did not under- 
 stand him. They have juclgeT^wift by themselves. 
 They have forgotten jvhat he himself said to Varina, 
 " That he was n_Q common lover." 
 
 After the revision of this poem there was a new 
 lease of intimacy between them, of a tenderer nature 
 than mere intellectual friendship — affection, excluding 
 all thought of marriage. Indeed, Swift's strange 
 maxim was, thatjjo- man- ever- married from reason, 
 and that violent friendship was more lasting than 
 violent love. With this understanding things now go 
 smoothly on, hysterically broken, only now and then, 
 by a burst of passion from Vanessa, which Swift 
 smooths and calms. 
 
 At other times, in his remonstrances with her, 
 he rises into a kind of sublime pathos, and appeals 
 to her better judgment thus : " Shall you who have 
 so much honour and good sense act otherwise to 
 make Cadenus and yourself miserable ? Settle your 
 
1 62 SWIFT. 
 
 affairs, and quit this scoundrel Island, and things 
 will be as you desire." Occasionally he gets angry, 
 and complains bitterly of her injudiciousness ; nor 
 need we wonder at his confusion on having the 
 following document delivered to him in the Deanery 
 when entertaining company : 
 
 " I believe you thought I only rallied when I told 
 you the other night that I would pester you with 
 letters. Once more I advise youj if you have any 
 regard for your own quiet, to alter your behaviour 
 quickly" — that is, that he should visit her oftener, 
 although she had herself written to him, " that the 
 tongue of scandal was busy " with them both — " for 
 I have too much spirit to sit down contented with 
 this treatment. Pray think calmly of it. Is it not 
 better to come of yourself than- to be brought by 
 force ? and that perhaps when you have the most 
 agreeable engagement in the world ; for when I 
 undertake anything I don't love to do it by 
 halves." 
 
 To the eternal honour of Vanessa be it known, 
 however, that in the wildest paroxysm of her pas- 
 sionate love she always exculpates Swift from being 
 the cause of her misery. The following is very 
 touching : 
 
 " Oh," she exclaims, " how have you forgot me ? 
 You endeavour by severities to force me from you. 
 Nor can I blame you; for with the utmost distress 
 and confusion I behold myself the cause of uneasy 
 reflections to you. Yet I cannot comfort you, but 
 here declare that 'tis not in the power of time or 
 
THE LOVER. 163 
 
 accident to lessen the inexpressable passion whicli I 
 have for you." 
 
 " This remarkable and decisive passage proves," 
 says Sir Walter Scott, " that it was the unrequited 
 passion of Vanessa, not the perfidy of Cadenus, 
 which was the origin of their mutual misery ; for she 
 states Swift's unhappiness as arising from her love, 
 and declares herself at the same time incapable of 
 abating her affection." 
 
 Time drifts on, and at last the end comes. 
 Vanessa sends Cadenus another passionate love- 
 letter. He replies to this, outburst, as he had often 
 done before, by calm adyice, and ends the last letter 
 he ever sent to her by this never-to-be-forgotten 
 prayer, "that she would not make herself or him 
 unhappy by imaginations." The last sentence of 
 Swift's last letter made it plain to Vanessa beyond 
 the shadow of a doubt that her life-long struggle to 
 possess him as a husband had been absolutely futile. 
 
 In exculpating Swift from all blame we cannot 
 but feel painfully for poor Vanessa. If we can 
 believe the great master of fiction. Sir Walter Scott, 
 the last scene was a tragic one. He tells, and power- 
 fully tells, a story which, if true, would convict Swift 
 of monstrous inhumanity, and compel me to believe 
 the very worst that was ever spoken of him by his 
 greatest enemies. Sir Walter would have us to be- 
 lieve that at last Vanessa wrote to Stella asking an 
 explanation of the connection that existed between 
 Swift and herself. " Stella, in reply," so runs Sir 
 Walter's story, "informed her of her marriage with 
 
 M 2 
 
i64 SWIFT. 
 
 the Dean, and full of the highest resentment against 
 Swift for having given another female such a right in 
 him as Miss Vanhomrigh's enquiries implied, she 
 sent him her rival's letter of interrogation. . . . Every 
 reader knows the consequence. Swift, in one of 
 those paroxysms of fury to which he was liable, both 
 from temper and disease, rode instantly to Marley 
 Abbey. As he entered the apartment the sternness 
 of his countenance, which was peculiarly formed to 
 express the fiercer passions, struck the unfortunate 
 Vanessa with such terror that she could scarce ask 
 whether he would not sit down. He answered by 
 flinging a letter on the table, and instantly leaving the 
 house, mounted his horse and returned to Dublin. 
 When Vanessa opened the packet she only found her 
 own letter to Stella. It was her death-warrant. 
 She sank at once under the disappointment of the 
 delayed, yet cherished hopes, which had so long 
 sickened her heart, and beneath the unrestrained 
 wrath of him for whose sake she had indulged them. 
 How long she survived this last interview is un- 
 certain, but the time does not seem to have exceeded 
 a few weeks." 
 
 I am glad, not merely for Swift's sake but for the 
 sake of humanity itself, that this story is another 
 scandalous myth. From whom did Sir Walter get 
 the story? From young Sheridan, the comedy 
 writer, the most unreliable authority, the most in- 
 accurate of all Swift's biographers. Sheridan has 
 painted this alleged scene with a bold hand and 
 a big brush. If truth be spoken, Sheridan, like Sir 
 
THE LOVER. i6s 
 
 Walter himself, often embellished his pages with pure 
 fabrication. Such is this story, written, be it remem- 
 bered, sixty years after the event which it professes to 
 narrate. 
 
 An important question arises here. If Stella really 
 wrote a letter to Vanessa, why was this document not 
 found amongst her other letters and papers which 
 she desired her executors to publish after her death .■' 
 I am suspicious about this letter. I should like to 
 know who ever saw it ? But, even granting that 
 Vanessa received this alleged letter, and granting 
 that Stella did make to her a confession of her 
 marriage to Swift, why was this important, authori- 
 tative, and damaging discovery against Swift kept 
 a secret from the world for years afterwards in the 
 hands of his enemies ? That does look suspicious. 
 
 Is this story, then, a deliberate fabrication of 
 Sheridan's } No. He got it substantially from Lord 
 Orrery. Sheridan, however, added to it, embellished 
 it, enlivened it, and has thus made it an altogether 
 different story. Orrery's account is that Vanessa 
 wrote not to Stella but to Swift, not to ascertain the 
 nature of his connection with Stella, but to ascertain 
 point-blank whether he really intended to make her 
 his wife ? Swift carried his reply to her in person, 
 when the scene occurred which Sheridan and Sir 
 Walter have so graphically depicted. 
 
 Lord Orrery describes the letter that Vanessa 
 sent to Swift as " a very tender one." It had been 
 obliging if his lordship had informed us when and 
 where he had seen this " tender letter." Strange, is 
 
i66 SWIFT. 
 
 it not, that this "tender letter" should have had the 
 effect of rousing Swift into a paroxysm of passion, 
 which caused him to ride instantly to Vanessa and 
 enact the scene of violence which Orrery alleges he 
 did? 
 
 Was Lord Orrery present at this alleged inter- 
 view? No. Just Swift and Vanessa. Therefore 
 we must receive with caution an account of an 
 interview when no third party was present, more 
 especially from such a man as Lord Orrery. Who 
 then informed his lordship ? It was utterly im- 
 possible to have been Vanessa, for she was dead 
 many years before he knew Swift. It is equally 
 impossible to imagine that Swift could inform him. 
 Who then was his lordship's informant ? He quotes 
 none. I, therefore, decline to accept his statement 
 regarding that of which he personally knew nothing. 
 But, even granting that he had been present at 
 the pretended interview — knowing how untruthful his 
 lordship is as a witness, how incapable he is as a 
 biographer, and how malicious he is as a man — I 
 would still decline to accept his statement without 
 the support of the strongest collateral evidence. 
 
 Therefore, as Orrery was not present at the 
 alleged interview himself, and has produced no 
 evidence in support of his statement, I dismiss his 
 lordship's story as incredible. 
 
 It is highly probable, however, that Vanessa, in 
 her infatuation, sent Swift a letter which, from its 
 nature, might arouse his suspicion that its warmth 
 was caused by something else than love. After 
 
THE LOVER. 167 
 
 Vanessa's messenger had delivered the missive into 
 Swift's hand, to test his suspicion, it is just .possible 
 that Swift might call for his horse, ride to Marley 
 Abbey, enter Vanessa's parlour unannounced, and 
 find her in a state unfit to receive him, or any other 
 human being ; that, disgusted at the sight, he might 
 indeed turn upon his heel, and without speaking a 
 word, might leave the Abbey, remount his horse, 
 gallop back to his Deanery, and never see her more. 
 Amidst much uncertainty, this at least is sure, that 
 Swift's connection with Vanessa was broken by him, 
 at last, abruptly and in anger. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott's next assertion, which is also 
 taken from Sheridan, is, that on hearing of Vanessa's 
 death Swift "retreated in an agony of self-reproach 
 and remorse into the, South of Ireland, where he 
 spent two months without the place of his abode 
 being known to any one." This account of Swift's 
 hurried flight, on the news of Vanessa's death, is 
 notoriously untrue. Instead of Swift quitting the 
 house, as Sheridan says, " without letting any mortal 
 know to what part of the world he had gone," we find 
 him, some time before he started on his journey, 
 writing to Mr. Cope* : " I have for some years in- 
 tended a Southern journey, and this summer is fixed 
 for it, and I hope to set out in ten days." He also 
 sends a message to Dr. Jinny, who had promised to 
 be his companion, as to the day he would start, and 
 as to his intention of paying a visit to the Bishop at 
 Clonfert. 
 
 * nth May, 1723. 
 
i68 SWIFT. 
 
 Three weeks after * he writes to say that his journey 
 must be postponed until the following Monday. On 
 the 3rd of August he writes from Clonfert to Dr. 
 Sheridan thus : " When I leave this I shall make one 
 or two short visits in my way to Dublin, and" hope to 
 be in town by the end of this month." What confi- 
 dence, I ask, can we now place in the rest of Sheridan 
 and Sir Walter's narratives, when we find them calmly 
 telling us a deliberate untruth > 
 
 That Vanessa's death deeply affected Swift is 
 highly probable; but that it excited in him, as Sir 
 Walter Scott says, "' self-reproach and remorse," or, 
 as Sheridan informs us, " heightened his grief by the 
 bitter aggravation of knowing himself to be the cause 
 of her death," requires stronger proof than evidence 
 which, " on the only point on which it is capable of 
 being tested, turns out to be false." 
 
 It has been my painful duty in this narrative of 
 Swift's connection with Stella and Vanessa to destroy 
 romance after romance. Amid many contradictory 
 allegations, this at least is certain, that a devouring 
 passion at last consumed Vanessa. Like a city on 
 fire, Vanessa " shines by that which consumes " her, 
 and at last expires, like the queen of beauty in 
 Eastern story, who died exclaiming, " I burn, I burn," 
 but whether with love or with drink cannot now be 
 known. 
 
 I shrink from a communication which, as a faithful 
 narrator, I am bound to make. Dr. Delany, a man 
 of high character, of stern veracity, and of pure life, 
 * On ist June, 1723. 
 
THE LOVER. 169 
 
 states, upon what authority I know not, " that 
 Vanessa, like Ariadne, devoted herself to Bacchus." 
 It is difficult now to verify a story of a century and a 
 half ago ; but if true, might it not tend to dispel the 
 last gleam of that aureole of brightness which he 
 once threw around this brilliant girl ? Poor Vanessa 
 was like the moth which is attracted to the blazing 
 light, flutters around it, and is at last consumed. Is 
 it quite fair to blame the light for that } 
 
 On the authority of Lords Orrery, Jeffrey, and 
 Macaulay, for generations the world has unjustly 
 believed that the story of Swift's marriage with Stella 
 was the cause of Vanessa's death, and that his cruel 
 refusal to acknowledge that marriage to the world 
 was the cause of Stella's death. But I have proved, 
 beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Swift was not 
 married to Stella, and that this marriage story is a 
 scandalous myth. Therefore, the heaviest indictment 
 against the character of Swift falls to the ground. 
 
 After all, it matters nothing to any human being 
 whether Swift was married to Stella or engaged to 
 Vanessa; but it does matter — matters much — whether 
 the name of a great and good man is to go down the 
 ages branded with eternal ignominy at the bidding of 
 three arrogant literary lords, who, unhappily for the 
 cause of truth and justice, have gained the world's 
 credulous ear. 
 
 If I have been successful in clearing the innocent 
 " from the imputation of guilt," I shall feel that my 
 work has not been in vain. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SWIFT : THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 
 
 During his residence in London Swift mingled in 
 brilliant society. His position as a Church dignitary 
 gave him entrance, and his charming personality 
 welcome, to the Royal Palace, where Queen Caroline, 
 when Princess -of Wales, would invite him twice a 
 week. In that strange Journal to Stella — " the most 
 wonderful that ever threw light on the history of a 
 man of genius " — we see Swift moving in the brilliant 
 society of a century and a half ago more vividly 
 than any of his contemporaries could. In the early 
 morning we see him hurrying away to transact State 
 business at the breakfast-table of St. John. At noon 
 in the Court of Requests, turning away from a lord 
 to speak to the meanest of his acquaintances. In 
 the afternoon chattering over a cup of tea with the 
 Duchesses of Hamilton and Ormond, bantering Lady 
 Masham and teasing Lady Betty Germain, the play- 
 mate of his Dublin Castle days. In the evening 
 leaving the gay and luxurious dinner-table of the 
 Premier to sup with Congreve, to crack brilliant 
 jokes, and then hurrying home to write, with the 
 same pen, a Royal Speech to be read from the 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. .171 
 
 Throne, and a beggar's ballad to be sung from the 
 street. Not only does this strange Journal give us 
 a vivid picture of Swift, but of all his contemporaries. 
 Queen Anne and her courtiers, powerful statesmen, 
 warriors, poets, men of wit, and men of fashion re- 
 live again, and we mingle with them, which makes it 
 for us one of the most fascinating periods in our 
 history. In that gay throng Swift mingled, and 
 was the greatest of them all. I must leave this 
 Royal and aristocratic circle to trace Swift's con- 
 nection with yet more illustrious companions — the 
 men who have given to the Augustan age of English 
 literature enduring fame. 
 The first is 
 
 ADDISON. 
 
 Addison, Swift's friend, was a wit, a scholar, a 
 statesman, a poet, a charming writer, and an excel- 
 lent Christian, but a little too fond of wine. Had it 
 not been for this little peccadillo, Joseph Addison 
 would almost have been faultless. Like the most of 
 great men's, his career was a chequered one. His 
 first intention was to enter the clerical profession. 
 Charles Montague, who had a high idea of his 
 talents, interfered. "The State," he said, "could 
 not at that time spare to the Church such a man as 
 Addison. I am called an enemy of the Church ; but 
 I will never do it any other injury than keeping Mr. 
 Addison out of it." Charles Montague was wrong. 
 Addison would have made an admirable Bishop, 
 
172 SWIFT. 
 
 but was an indifferent statesman. Montague's inter- 
 ference prevailed. He procured for him a pension, 
 and sent him on travel. During his travels King 
 William died, and the Ministry was overthrown, and 
 his pension stopped. Says Johnson, when he re- 
 turned to England in 1702, "with a meanness of 
 appearance which gave testimony of the difficulties 
 to which he had been reduced," he found his old 
 patrons out of power, and was therefore, for a time, 
 at full leisure for the cultivation of his mind. Shortly 
 after the Whig Ministry had come into power again, 
 and the great Marlborough had gained his victory at 
 Blenheim ; the Grub Street poets duly celebrated the 
 victory in rhyme. Godolphin, who knew little about 
 poets or poetry, had intelligence to understand that 
 their productions were ridiculous, and that a rattling 
 good Whig ballad in celebration of the victory would 
 help his party mightily. But where such a poet was 
 to be found, he knew not. He knew perfectly where 
 the best race-horse or fighting-cock could be had ; 
 but not where the best poet could be found. In his 
 perplexity he consulted Lord Halifax, who affected 
 to be displeased. He told the Premier sullenly that 
 he knew a poet who could celebrate the victory 
 worthily, but declined to name him, as he and other 
 literary men had lately been ignored and neglected. 
 Godolphin, in his bland way, acknowledged the 
 soft impeachment; but promised that the men of 
 literature should be attended to for the future. 
 Halifax then named Addison, but upon the distinct 
 understanding that Godolphin himself should ap- 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 173 
 
 proach him. Next day no less a man than the - 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer is despatched by the 
 Premier as his ambassador to negotiate with Ad- 
 dison, whom he found lodged in a garret, up a 
 rickety flight of stairs, in Haymarket — a circum- 
 stance over which old Samuel Johnson makes merry. 
 Addison at once undertook the task. When the 
 " Campaign " was iinished, he carried it to Godolphin 
 for his approbation. Lord Macaulay hints that the 
 poem was no great affair.* Anyhow, it served its 
 purpose. The Premier and the nation received it 
 with rapturous applause. The celebration of the 
 Blenheim victory was at least a victory for Addison. 
 It at once vaulted him into a Commissionership worth 
 ;^200 per annum, with the promise of better to 
 follow. And better did follow, and that rapidly, as 
 all the world knows. Does some reader ask what 
 has this to do with Swift ? Much, my reader, much. 
 It was Swift that made this victory for Addison 
 possible. It was Swift that, indirectly, dragged 
 Addison from his garret to be a Secretary of State. 
 It was Swift that first taught Ministers of State that 
 literature was a formidable engine of political warfare. 
 Three years before the " Campaign " was called for. 
 Swift had written a pamphlet that created a furore 
 in the nation. It created " a stream of tendency " that 
 compelled the Ministry of that day to change their 
 tactics. It was this identical pamphlet that made 
 Lord Somers and this same Lord Halifax Swift's 
 
 * It pleases us less, on the whole, than the " Epistle to 
 Halifax," Macaulay's " Essays,'' page 332. 
 
174 SWIFT. 
 
 staunchest friends ; and well they might, for it 
 helped to save their necks. 
 
 Swift's admiration of Addison was warm and 
 generous. When the latter was about to start for 
 Ireland as Secretary, Swift wrote from London to 
 Archbishop King : " Mr. Addison, who goes over our 
 first' Secretary, is a most excellent person, and, being 
 a very intimate friend, I shall use all my endeavour 
 to set him right in his notions of persons and things." 
 This friendship was mutual. Addison had profound 
 -respect for Swift. He called him "the most agreeable 
 companion, the truest friend, and the greatest genius 
 of his age." * This friendship, unfortunately, was 
 destined to be severed through political differences. 
 The cause of the impaired friendship was this. After 
 Swift's famous interview with Godolphin.the Premier, 
 regarding the Irish fruits business, he left the House 
 vowing vengeance. In a few days we find that Swift 
 had transferred his influence from the Whigs to the 
 Tories. Shortly after this we find him a Tory leader. 
 It is easy to understand why Addison did not view 
 amicably the secession of Swift from the Whig to 
 the Tory allegiance. In December Swift writes to 
 Stella : 
 
 " Mr. Addison and I are as different as black and 
 white, and I believe our friendship will go off by 
 this d business of party. He cannot bear seeing 
 
 * And Swift said of Addison : " That man has worth enough 
 to give reputation to an age." There is no record in literature 
 of two great friends speaking thus of each other with such 
 perfect truth. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 175 
 
 me fall in so with the Ministry ; but I love him still 
 as much as ever, though we seldom meet." 
 
 Swift had proved that he loved him still by using 
 his powerful influence on his behalf with the Tory 
 Government at the downfall of the Whigs a month 
 before, so that he was suffered to retain the Keeper- 
 ship of the Records in the Tower, an Irish place 
 worth ;^400 a year. 
 
 In January, 1710-11, Swift says : " I called at the 
 coffee-house, where I had not been in a week, and 
 talked coldly awhile with Mr. Addison. All bur 
 friendship and dearness are off ; we are civil acquaint- 
 ance, talk words, of course, of when we shall meet, 
 and that's all. Is it not odd ? " I think he might 
 fairly have asked, after what he had done for him. Is 
 it not ungrateful .' Many such entries follow ; but 
 on September 14, 171 1, the record is : "This evening 
 I met Addison and Pastoral Philips in the Park, and 
 supped with them in Addison's lodgings. We were 
 very good company, and I yet know no man half so 
 agreeable to me as he is. I sat with them till 
 twelve." 
 
 Addison was one of the most inveterate club men 
 of his day. He established Button's ; there was his 
 throne, there met his little senate, and there he gave 
 them nightly laws. Although he bowed the knee 
 with reverence and admiration before the genius of 
 Swift, yet he could brook no brother poet near his 
 throne. Strange, is it not, that Addison should 
 passionately desire to be immortalised as a great poet 
 — which he was not — rather than as a great prose- 
 
176 SWIFT. 
 
 writer, which he was. With Swift he frequented 
 the Scribblers' Club, composed of the greatest wits 
 and statesmen of the day. But to see Addison at 
 his best you must see him with Swift alone ; but few 
 had that privilege. It is on record that when Swift 
 and Addison conversed together, neither of them 
 desired a third. 
 
 Addison, like Swift, was loving and beloved, and 
 had a tender conscience. When Addison lay a-dying 
 he sent for Gay, told him that he had done him an 
 injury, which was unknown to Gay, and asked his 
 pardon. It is recorded by Lord Warwick, that 
 Addison was peevish, and jealous, and fickle in 
 friendship. This at least we know, that with 
 the exception of a short interruption caused by 
 politics, the friendship of Jonathan Swift and 
 Joseph Addison was strong and steadfast to the 
 close of life. 
 
 It is one of the most pleasing memories in the 
 life of Addison, that when Queen Anne died, and 
 the Tory Administration gave place to the Whig, 
 no sooner had Addison arrived at Dublin Castle, as 
 Secretary of State, than he went direct to the 
 Deanery of St. Patrick's to shake hands with Swift, 
 his great but fallen rival. 
 
 Swift and Addison had much in common. Both 
 were brilliant prose writers. Both were famous 
 humorists. Both were compassionate and kind. 
 Both had innumerable detractors. Both had im- 
 mense fame, and left behind them, when they died, 
 a pure and unsullied name. Yet how different ! 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 177 
 
 Swift was a fiery comet; Addison, a gentle star; 
 Swift, a fury; Addison, calm and serene; Swift^ stem- 
 ming the Mississippi of falsehood and misrepresen- 
 tation ; Addison, gently floating down the stream ; 
 Swift lived in storm ; Addison in sunshine ; Swift 
 was soured by disappointment ; Addison was radiant 
 with prosperity; Swift burned with sceva indignatio 
 against oppression and wrong ; Addison with a quiet 
 protest accommodating himself to the things that were; 
 Swift had a contempt for the opinion of humanity ; 
 Addison had a passion for its applause ; Swift died 
 alone in the dreary Deanery of St. Patrick's, sur- 
 rounded by strangers ; Addison in Holland House, 
 surrounded by his wife, the Countess and her son, 
 Lord Warwick, who had come to see how a Christian 
 could die. How strange the irony of fate ! 
 
 Swift "a king, able to rule in anytime or empire"; 
 Addison fit to grace the Bench of Bishops ; yet Swift 
 goes to Ireland as a Dean, and Addison as a Minister 
 of State. 
 
 Another of Swift's literary friends was 
 
 STEELE. 
 
 Steele loved Swift and venerated Addison. Pope 
 says that they used to play a little upon Dick Steele, 
 but he always took it good-naturedly. He was a 
 charming writer, but a rollicking, reckless fellow, 
 generally deep in debt and drink. Johnson declared 
 to Boswell that no man was perfectly happy in the 
 present unless drunk. If that assertion is correct — 
 
 N 
 
178 SWIFT. 
 
 which we doubt — then Steele must frequently have 
 been supremely happy. Swift, in his Journal, informs 
 Stella that Dick was governed by his wife Prue. She 
 might rule him in some things ; but she had little 
 control over his drinking propensities, as is evident 
 from the following characteristic notes : 
 
 My dear Prue, 
 
 Your pretty letter, and so much good nature and kind- 
 ness, which I received yesterday, is a perfect pleasure to me. 
 I am, dear Prue, a little in drink ; but at all times 
 
 Your faithful Husband, 
 
 Richard Steele. 
 Dear Prue, 
 
 If you do not hear from me before three to-morrow after- 
 noon, believe I am too fuddled to observe your orders ; but, 
 however, know me to be 
 
 Your most faithful and affectionate 
 
 Richard Steele. 
 I am very sick with too much wine last night. 
 
 In another note he excuses his coming home, " in- 
 vited to supper to Mr. Boyle's." 
 
 " Dear Prue," he says, on this occasion, " do not 
 send after me, for I shall be ridiculous." 
 
 Swift loved and clung to him, and protected him 
 until his recklessness and dissoluteness estranged 
 him, and his scurrility and ingratitude disgusted him. 
 Thackeray says that Swift shrank away from all 
 affections, sooner or later. These words are not true. 
 Harley, Bolingbroke, Pope, and scores of others were 
 his staunchest friends, between whom, during a long 
 life, not a cloud intervened to mar their affection — 
 an affection which even death could not sever. It 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 179 
 
 is true that the friendship between Swift and Steele 
 was broken ; but that was not Swift's fault, but 
 Steele's, which the following letters prove : 
 
 To Mr. Addison. 
 
 May i^th, 1713. 
 I was told yesterday, by several persons, that Mr. Steele 
 had reflected upon me in his Guardian ; which I could hardly 
 believe, until, sending for the paper of the day, I found he had 
 in several parts of it insinuated, with the utmost malice, that I 
 was author of The Examiner \ and abused me in the grossest 
 manner he could possibly invent, and set his name to what he 
 had written. Now, sir, if I am not the author of The Examiner, 
 how will Mr. Steele be able to defend himself from the impu- 
 tation of the highest degree of baseness, ingratitude, and in- 
 justice ? Is he so ignorant of my temper and of my style ? Has 
 he never heard that the author of The Examiner (to whom I 
 am altogether a stranger) did, a month or two ago, vindicate 
 me from having any concern in it? ' Should not Mr. Steele 
 have first expostulated with me as a friend ? Have I deserved 
 this usage from Mr. Steele, who knows veiy well that my Lord 
 Treasurer has kept him in his employment, upon my entreaty 
 and intercession ! My Lord Chancellor and Lord Bolingbroke 
 will be witnesses how I was reproached by my Lord Treasurer 
 upon the ill returns Mr. Steele made to his lordship's indul- 
 gence, etc. 
 
 Swift forgave Steele's ingratitude, but never for- 
 got it. A great deal too much has been made of 
 this quarrel, and Swift has been unjustly blamed for 
 it. Swift and Steele were not the only two literary 
 men who quarrelled in that age. Thackeray might 
 have told us that Addison, his favourite, quarrelled 
 with Pope, and Pope lampooned Addison ; but Swift 
 remained to the end the friend of both. Shortly 
 after this Steele was again unfortunate in rousing the 
 wrath of the great Dean. Steele wrote a political 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o SWIFT. 
 
 pamphlet called " The Crisis/' an attack against the 
 Tory party. Swift replied in a pamphlet of great 
 power, called "The Public Spirit of the Whigs." 
 Says Taine : 
 
 We should read it page by page. Steele is torn to pieces 
 with a calmness and scorn never equalled. Swift approaches 
 regularly, leaving no part untouched, heaping wound on wound, 
 every blow sure, knowing beforehand their reach and depth. 
 Poor Steele — a vain, thoughtless fellow — is in his hands like 
 Gulliver amongst the giants. It is a pity to see a contest so 
 unequal ; and this contest is pitiless. Swift crushes him care- 
 fully, and easily, like an obnoxious animal. The unfortunate 
 man, formerly an officer and a semi-literary man, had made 
 awkward use of constitutional words. "Upon this rock" (says 
 Swift) " the author is perpetually splitting, as often as he ven- 
 tures out beyond the narrow limits of his literature. He has a 
 confused remembrance of words, since he left the University ; 
 but has lost half their meaning, and puts them together with 
 no regard except to their cadence ; as I remember a fellow 
 nailed up maps in a gentleman's closet, some sidelong, others 
 rupside down, the better to adjust them to the panels." 
 
 The crisis was truly a crisis for poor Steele, as 
 through it he was not only unmercifully mauled by 
 Swift, but unseated in the House of Commons. 
 Soon after this Sir Richard Steele retired from the 
 political arena, as Swift says in his biting, bitter 
 satire : 
 
 Thus Steele, who owned what others writ, 
 And flourished by imputed wit. 
 From perils of a hundred jails. 
 Withdrew to starve and die in Wales. 
 
 Poor Steele, peace be with him ! With all his 
 faults and failings, we love his memory. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. i8i 
 
 CONGREVE. 
 
 William Congreve, literary dandy, was another of 
 Swift's friends. He was one of the most polite, 
 pleasing, and well-bred men of all Swift's acquaint- 
 ance. Swift had a deep regard and affection for him. 
 They were both educated at the same old School of 
 Kilkenny, and also at the same College in Dublin. 
 From the University Congreve went to the Middle 
 Temple in London to study law, which, fortunately 
 for himself, he soon renounced and took to the writing 
 of comedy. His first play, The Old Bachelor, had 
 the good fortune to attract the notice of Charles 
 Montague, Lord Halifax, who posed as the Whig 
 patron of literary men, and who at once provided 
 for him. To this Swift refers in his Satire : 
 
 Thus Congreve spent in writing plays, 
 
 And one poor office, half his days, 
 
 While Montague, who claim'd the station, 
 
 To be Mfficenas of the nation, 
 
 For poets open table kept. 
 
 But ne'er considered where they slept. 
 
 Himself as rich as fifty Jews, 
 
 Was easy though they wanted shoes ; 
 
 And crazy Congreve scarce could spare 
 
 A shilling to discharge his chair, 
 
 Till prudence taught him to appeal 
 
 From Psean's fire to party zeal ; 
 
 Not owing to his happy vein. 
 
 The fortunes of his latter scene, 
 
 Took proper principles to thrive. 
 
 And so might evei y dunce alive. 
 
 This is too severe of Swift, for Montague and the 
 Whig Government provided for Congreve in a hand- 
 some manner. His life was a triumph from the 
 
1 82 SWIFT. 
 
 beginning to the end. He was one of the men whom 
 the world agrees to praise without knowing much 
 about them. He dressed splendidly ; his person 
 was graceful, his manner fascinating, and his wit 
 charming. He was the " inevitable Mr. Congreve." 
 Everybody praised him; Swift and Addison, Pope 
 and Steele, all paid him compliments. Even Voltaire 
 waited upon him to compliment him as a representa- 
 tive of literature ; but Congreve affected to de'spise 
 his literary reputation, " and in this," says Thackeray, 
 '' perhaps the great Congreve was not far wrong. 
 A touch of Steele's tenderness is worth all his finery ; 
 a flash of Swift's lightning, a beam of Addison's 
 pure sunshine, and his tawdry play-house taper is 
 invisible. But the ladies loved him, and he was 
 undoubtedly a pretty fellow." Thackeray continues : 
 " We have in Swift a humorous philosopher, whose 
 truth frightens one, and whose laughter makes one 
 melancholy. We have in Congreve a humorous 
 observer of another school, to whom the world seems 
 to have no moral at all, and whose ghostly doctrine 
 seems to be that we should eat and be merry when 
 we can, and go to the deuce, if there be a deuce, 
 when the time comes." A time did come in the 
 career of Congreve when he thought that he and his 
 Government appointments had gone to the deuce. 
 When Swift, by his powerful pen, helped to overthrow 
 the Whig Government, and the Tories took the helm, 
 Congreve thought it was all over with him ; and so it 
 would have been had not Swift taken him under his 
 powerful protection, as he did Addison and Steele. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 183 
 
 In his preface to " The Four Last Years of Queen 
 Anne " Swift says : " I preserved several of the 
 opposite party in their employments who were persons 
 of wit and learning, especially Mr. Addison and 
 Mr. Congreve. Mr. Steele might have been safe 
 enough if his continually repeated indiscretions and 
 a zeal mingled, with scurrilities had not forfeited all 
 title to lenity." In his Journal to Stella, of date 
 22nd June, 171 1, the record is : "I saw Will Congreve 
 attending at the Treasury, by order, with his brethren 
 the Commissioners of the wine licenses. I had often 
 mentioned him with kindness to the Lord Treasurer, 
 and Congreve told me that after they had answered 
 to what they were sent for, my Lord called him 
 privately and spoke to him with great kindness, 
 promising his protection, etc. The poor man said 
 that he had been used so ill of late years that he was 
 quite astonished at my Lord's goodness, etc., and 
 desired me to tell my Lord so, which I did this 
 evening, and recommended him heartily. My Lord 
 assured, me that he esteemed him very much, and 
 would be always kind to him ; that what he said to 
 him was to make Congreve easy, because he knew 
 people talked as if his Lordship designed to turn 
 everybody out, and particularly Congreve, which 
 indeed was true, for the poor man told me he appre- 
 hended it. As I left my Lord Treasurer I called on 
 Congreve, knowing where he dined, and told him 
 what had passed between my Lord and me; so I 
 have made a worthy man easy, and that is a good 
 day's work." 
 
1 84 SWIFT. 
 
 In another part of the Journal, he says to Stella : 
 " I was to-day to see Mr. Congreve, who is almost 
 blind with cataracts growing on his eyes, and his 
 case is that he must wait two or three years until the 
 cataracts are riper, and till he is quite blind, and then 
 he must have them couched ; and besides, he is never 
 rid of the gout ; yet he looks young and fresh and is 
 as cheerful as ever. He is younger, by three years or 
 more, than I, and I am twenty years younger than 
 he. He gave me a pain in the great toe by men- 
 tioning the gout. I find such suspicions frequently ; 
 but they go off again." Thinking of poor Congreve's 
 eyes, this reminds him of Stella's ; they were also 
 weak, and in the same letter he says to her : " I am 
 almost crazed that you vex yourself for not writing. 
 Cannot you dictate to Dingley, and not strain your 
 little dear eyes .-• I am sure it is the grief of my soul 
 to hear that you are out of order. Pray be quiet, and 
 if you will write shut your eyes, and write just a line, 
 and no more, thus : ' How do you do, Mrs. Stella ? ' 
 That was written with my eyes shut. Faith, I think 
 it is better than when they are open; and then Dingley 
 may stand by and tell you when you are too high or 
 too low." Further on in the Journal we find that he 
 makes another visit to Congreve ; it is thus recorded : 
 " I went to visit poor Congreve, who is just getting 
 out of a severe fit of the gout, and I sat with him 
 until near nine o'clock. He gave me a Tatler he 
 had written out, as blind as he is, for little Harrison. 
 It is about a scoundrel that was grown rich and went 
 and bought a coat of arms at the Heralds', and a set 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 185 
 
 of Ancestors at Fleetdutch; it is well enough,' and 
 shall be printed in two or three days, and if you read 
 those kind of things this will divert you. It is now 
 between ten and eleven, and I am going to bed." 
 
 Swift and Congreve were ever bosom friends. Not 
 only did Swift introduce Congreve to Lord Oxford, 
 recommend him heartily, and keep him in office, but 
 made the Premier ask him to dinner. 
 
 At last, when Congreve died, Swift writes thus to 
 
 Pope : 
 
 Dublin, February 13th, 1728-9. 
 This renews the grief for the death of our friend, Mr. 
 Congreve, whom I loved from my youth, and who, surely, beside 
 his other talents, was a very agreeable companion. He had the 
 misfortune to squander away a very good constitution in his 
 younger days, and I think a man of sense and merit like him is 
 bound in conscience to preserve his health for the sake of his 
 friends, as. well as of himself. Upon his own account I could 
 not much desire the continuance of his life under so much pain 
 and so many infirmities. Years have not hardened me, and I 
 have an addition of weight on my spirits since we lost him, 
 though I saw him- seldom ; and possibly, if he had lived on, 
 should never have seen him more. I do not only wish, as you 
 ask me, that I was unacquainted with any deserving person, 
 but almost that I never had a friend. 
 
 In these letters we have humanity and tenderness. 
 Who after this will say that Jonathan Swift was not 
 a tender-hearted man ? 
 
 In the list of Swift's friends we must not forget 
 the name of 
 
 GAY. 
 
 A good-natured, generous-hearted fellow, careless 
 of money and fame, very witty, very sincere, very 
 
1 86 SWIFT. 
 
 thoughtless, and a young man to the last. Swift 
 said of him that he ought never to have lived more 
 than two-and-twenty years., 
 
 Swift was a strong hater, and as strong a lover. 
 Whom he loved became a part of himself. Gay was 
 one of those. Swift gave him affection, protection, 
 and counsel. He was one of the few with whom the 
 Dean was gentle and sportive. We shall illustrate 
 those phases of his character by quotation from some 
 of the charmingly delightful letters which he sent to 
 Gay. Swift had introduced Gay to Bolingbroke, and 
 Bolingbroke introduced him to the Court, where he 
 became a favourite. This led up to his appointment 
 as tutor to the young Prince. Ultimately he was 
 neglected. December, 1722, he writes to Swift : 
 
 I lodge, at present, in Burlington House, and have re- 
 ceived many civilities from many great men, but very few real 
 benefits. They wonder at each other for not providing for me, 
 and ,1 wonder at them all. Experience has given me some 
 knowledge of them, so that I can say that it is not in their 
 power to disappoint me. I hope, though you have not heard of 
 me so long, I have not lost my credit with you ; but that you 
 will think of me in the same manner as when you espoused my 
 cause so warmly, which my gratitude never can forget. 
 
 Swift replies in a characteristic letter, which closes 
 in these words : 
 
 I wish I could do more than say I love you. I left you 
 in a good way, both for the late Court and the successors ; and 
 by the force of too much honesty, or too little sublunary wis- 
 dom, you fall between two stools. Take care of your health 
 and money, be less modest and more active, or else turn parson 
 and get a bishopric ; here, would to God they would send us 
 good ones from your side. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 187 
 
 In reference to this advice, Thackeray says : " I 
 know of few things more conclusive as to the sin- 
 cerity of Swift's religion than his advice to poor 
 John Gay to turn clergyman, and look out for a seat 
 on the Bench." Why not ? Thackeray hints that 
 the author of The Beggar's Opera had not clerical 
 qualifications. Clerical fiddlesticks ! What had that 
 to do With the appointment of a Bishop a hundred 
 and fifty years ago ? Gay would have made as good 
 a Bishop as nine-tenths of those that were appointed 
 during the first half of last century. After all, Swift 
 did not intend this to be taken seriously. Sydney 
 Smith might have applied his remark to England as 
 well as Scotland. Thackeray cannot have read the 
 letter, or he never would have interpreted it so. If 
 he had read the previous paragraph he would have 
 found Swift's real advice to Gay : 
 
 I am of opinion (says Swift), if you will not be offended, 
 that the surest course would be to get your friend, who lodged 
 in your house, to recommend you to the next Chief Governor 
 who comes over here, for a good Civil employment, or to be 
 one of his secretaries, which your Parliament men are fond of, 
 when there is no room at home. 
 
 It is more generous, I think, to accuse Thackeray 
 of ignorance of this paragraph, than of unjust mis- 
 representation, or incapacity to discern a joke. In 
 this same letter Swift replies to Gay's invitation to 
 visit England, who had given a glowing description 
 how his old friends would receive him : 
 
 What can be the design of your letter [asks Swift] but 
 malice, to wake me out of scurvy sleep, which, however, is 
 better than none 'i I am toward nine years older since I left 
 
1 88 SWIFT. 
 
 you, yet that is the least of my alterations. My business, my 
 diversions, my conversations are all entirely changed for the 
 worse, and so are my studies, and my amusements in writing ; 
 yet, after all, this humdrum way of life might be passable 
 enough if you would let me alone. I shall not be able to relish 
 my wine, my parsons, my horses, nor my garden, for three 
 months, until the spirit you have roused shall be dispossessed. 
 I have someti:; es wondered that I have not visited you ; but I 
 have been stopped by too many reasons, besides years and 
 laziness, and yet these are very good ones. Besides, what a 
 figure should I make in London, while my friends are in 
 poverty, exile, distress, or imprisonment, and my enemies with 
 rods of iron ! Yet 1 often threaten myself with the journey, 
 and am, every summer, practising to get health to bear it ; the 
 only inconvenience is that I grow old in the experiment. 
 
 He was also plied with pressing invitations from 
 Pope, Bolingbroke, and Arbuthnot to visit England. 
 At last the Dean complied, and took up his residence 
 at Twickenham. In this villa Swift suggested "The 
 Dunciad," which Pope says would, without Swift, have 
 never seen the light of day. Here also Swift sug- 
 gested to Gay a "Newgate Pastoral," which Gay 
 changed into The Beggar's Opera. Swift broke up 
 this noble band of literary brothers by his sudden 
 departure on the news of Stella's serious illness. 
 
 During his stay at Twickenham Swift was much 
 troubled with deafness, which left him on his journey 
 home. Referring to this circumstance, Gay and Pope, 
 in writing to him, say : 
 
 Though you went away from us so unexpectedly and in 
 so clandestine a manner, yet by sevej'al inquiries we have 
 informed ourselves of everything that hath happened to you. 
 To our great joy you have told us your deafness left you at the 
 inn in Aldersgate Street. No doubt your ears knew there was 
 nothing worth hearing in England. The Queen's family is at 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 189 
 
 last settled, and in the list I was appointed Gentleman Usher 
 to the Princess Louisa, the youngest princess, which, upon 
 account that I am so far advanced in life, I have declined 
 accepting ; and I have endeavoured, in the best manner I 
 could, to make my excuses by a letter to Her Majesty. So 
 now all my expectations are vanished, and I have no prospect 
 but in depending wholly upon myself and my own conduct. 
 
 You remember you were advising me to go into Newgate to 
 finish my scenes the more correctly. I now think I shall, for I 
 have no attendance to hinder me. 
 
 Swift replies : 
 
 I entirely approve your refusal of that employment* and 
 your writing to the Queen. I am perfectly confident you have 
 a keen enemy in the Ministry — Sir Robert Walpole ; God 
 forgive him, but not till he puts himself in a state to be 
 forgiven. I have known Courts these thirty-six years, and know 
 they differ ; but in some things they are extremely consistent. 
 First, in the trite old maxim of a Minister's never forgiving 
 those he hath injured. Secondly, in the insincerity of those who 
 would be thought the best friends. Thirdly, in the love of 
 fawning, cringing, and tale-bearing. Fourthly, in sacrificing 
 those whom we really wish well to a point of interest or intrigue. 
 Fifthly, in keeping everything vporth taking for those who can 
 do service or disservice. 
 
 * Swift in his epistle to Gay asks : 
 
 How could you. Gay, disgrace the Muse's train 
 To serve a tasteless Court twelve years in vain ? 
 Fain would I think our female friend' sincere, 
 Till Bob% the Poet's foe, possessed her ear. 
 Did female virtue e'er so high ascend 
 To lose an inch of favour for a friend ? 
 Say, had the Court no better place to choose 
 For thee, than make a dry nurse of thy Muse ? 
 How cheaply had thy liberty been sold, 
 To squire a Royal girl of two years old ; 
 In infant strings her infant steps to guide, 
 Or with her go-cart amble, side by side ? 
 
 ' The Countess of Suffolk. Vol. viii. p. 1 14. 
 " Sir Robert Walpole. 
 
190 SWIFT. 
 
 Every expectant of. preferment in Church and 
 State should ponder over these five reflections of 
 Swift, who was well versed in Courts. 
 
 Why [he asks] does not Pope publish his "Dulness"? 
 The rogues he marks will die of themselves in peace, and so 
 will his friends, and so there will be neither punishment nor 
 reward. I bought your Opera to-day for sixpence — a cursed 
 print. I find there is neither dedication nor preface, both which 
 wants I approve. It is in the grand gout. We are full of it, 
 firo modulo nostra, as London can be continually acting, and 
 houses crammed, and the Lord Lieutenant several times there 
 laughing his heart out. Ever preserve some spice of the 
 alderman, and prepare against age and dulness, and sickness 
 
 and coldness, or death of friends. A W has a resource left 
 
 that she can turn bawd ; but an old decayed poet is a creature ' 
 abandoned, and at mercy when he can find none. The Beggar's 
 Opera hath knocked down " Gulliver." I hope to see Pope's 
 " Dulness " knock down The Beggar's Opera ; but not till it 
 hath fully done its job. To expose vice and make people laugh 
 with innocence does more public service than all the Ministers 
 of State from Adam to Walpole ; and so, adieu. 
 
 As to the origin and success of The Beggar's 
 Opera, Pope says, "Dr. Swift had been observing 
 once to Mr. Gay what an odd, pretty sort of thing 
 a 'Newgate Pastoral' might make." Gay was inclined 
 to try at such a thing for some time; but afterwards 
 thought it would be better to write a comedy on the 
 same plan. This was what gave rise to The Beggar's 
 Opera. He began on it, and, when he first mentioned 
 it to Swift, the Doctor did not much like the project. 
 
 As he carried it on, he showed what he wrote to both of us, 
 and we, now and then, gave a correction or a word or two of 
 advice ; but it was wholly of his own writing. When it was 
 done neither of us thought that it would succeed. We showed 
 it to Congreve, who, after reading it over, said it would either 
 take greatly or be " damned confoundedly." We were all at 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 191 
 
 the first night of it, in great uncertainty of the event, till we 
 were very much encouraged by overhearing the Duke of Argyle, 
 who sat in the next box to us, say : " It will do, it must do ; I 
 see it in the eyes of them." This was a good while before the first 
 act was over, and so gave us ease soon ; for the Duke, besides 
 his own good taste, has a more particular research than any 
 one now living in discovering the taste of the public. He was 
 quite right in this, as usual ; the good nature of the audience 
 appeared stronger and stronger every act, and ended in a 
 clamour of applause. 
 
 The Beggar's Opera was accepted and produced 
 by Rich, then manager of Covent Garden Theatre. 
 The unprecedented run it had, caused Swift to 
 remark that " it made Gay rich, and Rich gay." 
 
 Says Cowper to Unwin, in 1783 : "What can be 
 prettier than Gay's ballad (or rather Swift's, Arbuth- 
 not'Sj Pope's, and Gay's) in the — ' What d'ye call it ' — 
 ' 'Twas when the seas were roaring ' .' I have been 
 well informed that they all contributed." This 
 statement is not incompatible with Pope's, that 
 The Beggar's Opera, qud Opera, was really wholly 
 Gay's. It is not unlikely that the four living to- 
 gether in the same villa might contribute to this 
 ballad, which, being one of the finest in the English 
 language, I shall quote : 
 
 'Twas when the seas were roaring 
 
 With hollow blasts of wind, 
 A damsel lay deploring. 
 
 All on a rock reclined ; 
 Wide o'er the foaming billows 
 
 She cast a wistful look. 
 Her head was crowned with willows, 
 
 That trembled o'er the brook. 
 
 Twelve months are gone and over, 
 And nine long tedious days. 
 
192 SWIFT. 
 
 Why didst thou, venturous lover, 
 
 Why didst thou trust the seas ? 
 Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean. 
 
 And let my lover rest ; 
 Ah ! what's thy troubled motion 
 
 To that within my breast ? 
 
 The merchant, robb'd of pleasure, 
 
 Sees tempests in despair ; 
 But what's the loss of treasure 
 
 To losing of my dear ? 
 Should you some coast be laid on, 
 
 Where gold and diamonds grow, 
 You'd find a richer maiden, 
 
 But none that loves you so. 
 
 How can they say that Nature 
 
 Has nothing made in vain ; 
 Why, then, beneath the water 
 
 Should hideous rocks remain ? 
 No eyes the rocks discover 
 
 That lurk beneath the deep. 
 To wreck the wandering lover. 
 
 And leave the maid to weep. 
 
 All melancholy lying, 
 
 Thus wail'd she for her dear ; 
 Repay'd each blast with sighing, 
 
 Each billow with a tear ; 
 When o'er the white wave stooping. 
 
 His floating corpse she spy'd ; 
 Then, like a lily drooping, 
 
 She bow'd her head and died. 
 
 Swift knew that his friend Gay was inclined to 
 be lazy, like Thomas Idle, who did not get through 
 the hours, but let the hours get through him, and 
 rebukes him in jocular satire. He tells him that 
 even the Opera was but the outcome of idleness. 
 He must not rest satisfied with that; but push on 
 and fill his purse. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 193 
 
 I wish you had £.100 a year more for horses [he continues]. 
 I hope, when you are rich enough, you will have some little 
 economy of your own in town and country, and be able to give 
 your friend a pint of wine, for the domestic season of life will 
 come on. I writ lately to Mr. Pope, I wish you had a little 
 villa in his neighbourhood ; but you are yet too volatile, and 
 any lady, with a coach and six horses, would carry you to 
 Japan. 
 
 In another letter Swift writes : 
 
 If your ramble was on horseback, I am glad of it, on ac- 
 count of your health ; but I know your arts of patching up a 
 journey between stage coaches and friends' coaches, for you 
 are as arrant a cockney as any hosier in Cheapside. One 
 clean shirt, with two cravats and as many handkerchiefs, 
 make up your equipage, and, as for nightgown, it is clear from 
 Homer that Agamemnon rose without one. I have often had 
 it in my head to put it into yours that you ought to have some 
 great work, or scheme, which may take up seven years to finish, 
 besides two or three under ones, that may add another thousand 
 pounds to your stock, and then I shall be in less pain about 
 you. I know you can find dinners ; but you love twelvepenny 
 coaches too well, without considering that the interest of a whole 
 thousand povmds brings you but half-a-crown a day. 
 
 This half-crown calculation recalls a story related 
 by Pope, which illustrates a peculiar phase of Swift's 
 humour. Says Pope : 
 
 Dr. Swift has an odd, blunt way that is mistaken by strangers 
 for ill nature. 'Tis so odd that there is no describing it but by 
 facts. One evening Gay and I went to see him. You know how 
 intimately we were all acquainted. On our coming in, " Hey- 
 day, gentlemen," says the Doctor ; " what's the meaning of this 
 visit? How come you to leave all the great lords, that you 
 are so fond of, to come hither to see a poor Dean .' " " Because 
 we would rather see you than any of them." " Ay, any one 
 that did not know you so well as I do might believe you. But 
 since you are come, I must get some supper for you, I suppose.'' 
 
 o 
 
194 SWIFT. 
 
 " No, Doctor, we have supped already." " Supped already T 
 thafs impossible ! Why, 'tis not eight o'clock yet." " Indeed,, 
 we have." " That's very strange ; but if you had not supped I 
 must have got something for you. Let me see ; what would I 
 have had.' A couple of lobsters — ay, that would have done 
 very well — two shillings ; tarts, a shilling. But you will drink 
 a glass of wine with me, though you have supped so much before- 
 your usual time only to spare my pocket." "No; we had 
 rather talk with you than drink with you." " But if you had 
 supped with me, as in all reason you ought to have done, yon 
 must have drank with me. A bottle of wine, two shillings. 
 Two and two is four, and one is five ; just two and sixpence 
 a-piece. There, Pope, there's half-a-crown for you, and there's 
 another for you, sir ; for I won't save anything by you, I am 
 determined." This was all said and done with his usual 
 seriousness, on such occasions ; and in spite of everything we 
 could say to the contrary, he actually obliged us to take the- 
 money. 
 
 Swift read them a lesson that evening that they 
 never forgot. What a strange man ! Even his best: 
 friends only half understood him ; they thought 
 that he was penurious and avaricious. They were 
 quite mistaken ; he was not so. His deSire to get 
 was not to keep, but to give. After death it was 
 found that Swift had divided his income into three 
 equal parts. The first part he lived on, the second* 
 part he gave in charities, and the third part in loans 
 to the deserving poor, which, latterly, he bequeathed 
 to build houses for lunatics. 
 
 Swift's letters to great ladies, such as the Duchess 
 of Queensberry, Gay's friend, who won him at a 
 raffle and carried him off with her, are masterpieces 
 of wit and humour, of common sense and courtly 
 manners, mingled with splendid compliments under 
 the garb of rudeness. I shall illustrate this phase of 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 195 
 
 his character by one or two quotations. Sometimes 
 the Duchess wrote the postscript in Gay's letters to 
 Swift ; at other times she wrote to him without Gay. 
 In answer to a conjunct letter of theirs. Swift 
 replies to Mr. Gay : " Your situation is an odd one. 
 The Duchess is your treasurer, and Mr. Pope tells me 
 you are the Duke's." The next part is written to the 
 Duchess : 
 
 Madam, 
 
 Since Mr. Gay affirms that you love to have your own 
 way, and since I have the same perfection, I will settle that 
 matter immediately, to prevent those ill consequences that he 
 apprehends. Your Grace shall have your own way in all places, 
 except your own house and the domains about it. I will, 
 likewise, out of my special grace allow you to be in the right 
 against all human kind except myself, and to be never in the 
 wrong but when you differ from me. You shall have a greater 
 privilege in the third article of speaking your mind, which I shall 
 graciously allow you now and then to do even to myself, and 
 only rebuke you when it does not please me. Pray, Madam, 
 have you a clear voice, and will you let me sit at your left hand, 
 at least within three of you ? for of two bad ears my right is the 
 best. My groom tells me that he likes your park, but your 
 house is too little. Can the parson of the parish play at back- 
 gammon and hold his tongue ? Is any one of your women a 
 good nurse, if I should fancy myself sick for four and twenty 
 hours ? ' How many days will you maintain me and my 
 equipage? When these preliminaries are settled, I must be 
 very poor, very sick, or dead, or to the last degree unfortunate, 
 if I do not attend you at Amesbury ; for I protest you are the 
 first lady that I ever desired to see since the First of August, 
 17 14.* I dislike nothing in your letter but an affected apology 
 for bad writing, bad spelling, and a bad pen, which you pretend 
 Mr. Gay found fault with ; wherein you affront Mr. Gay, you 
 
 * The day of Queen Anne's death, when all hope of more 
 preferment was lost. 
 
 o 2 
 
196 SWIFT. 
 
 affront me, and you affront yourself. False spelling is only 
 excusable in a chambermaid ; for I would not pardon it in any 
 of your waiting women. 
 
 In another letter he says : 
 
 I see very well how matters go with the Duchess in regard 
 to me. I heard her say : " Mr. Gay, fill your letter to the Dean 
 that there may be no room left for me ; the frolic is gone far 
 enough. I have writ him twice ; I will do no more. If the 
 man has a mind to come, let him come." What a clutter is 
 here ! positively, I will not write a syllable more. She is an 
 ungrateful Duchess, considering how many adorers I have pro- 
 cured for her, over and above' the thousand she had before. 
 
 There is exquisite delicacy of humour in the 
 aiifected rudeness, yet elegant compliment, here paid 
 to the Duchess. Voltaire has nothing finer. Speak- 
 ing of this, Thackeray says : "Swift goes off from 
 Gay to pay some grand compliments to Her Grace 
 the Duchess of Queensberry, in whose sunshine Mr. 
 Gay was basking, and in whose radiance the Dean 
 would have liked to warm himself." The flippancy of 
 that reflection is not worthy even of Mr. Thackeray. 
 Swift could have basked even in Royal sunshine if he 
 had so inclined. If Swift was so anxious to bask in 
 her radiance, why did he not accept her scores of 
 invitations to visit her ? — and such invitations as any 
 man would feel flattered to receive. The truth is, 
 she was a lady of judgment, wit, and humour, and 
 felt an afifinity for Swift. She appreciated his genius 
 and, through Gay, understood his idiosyncrasies. She 
 played to his humour, and yielded to his imperious- 
 ness. Hence the splendid cornpliments paid to her 
 by him. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 197 
 
 Swift sometimes amusingly uses this imperiousness 
 to Gay. In reply to a letter of Gay's, Swift says : 
 
 You are the silliest lover in Christendom. If you like , 
 
 why do you not command her to take you ? If she does not, 
 she is not worth pursuing. You do her too much honour. She 
 has neither sense nor taste if she dares to refuse you, though 
 she had ten thousand pounds. 
 
 In another of his letters Swift commands Gay to 
 walk more and eat less ; and in his Journal he says 
 to Stella : " Gay and I walk in the Park, he to make 
 himself lean, and I to make myself fat." Indeed, all 
 the poets of the Augustan age, except Pope and 
 Swift, who can hardly be called a poet, were fat. 
 Poor Gay died young and suddenly. Pope writes to 
 Swift thus : 
 
 December 5th, 1732. 
 
 One of the nearest and longest ties I have ever had is 
 broken, all on a sudden, by the unfortunate death of poor Mr. 
 Gay. An inflammatory fever carried him out of this life in 
 three days. He asked of you a few hours before, when in acute 
 torment. Good God ! how often are we to die before we go off 
 this stage ? In every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the 
 best part. God keep those we have left. Few are worth pray- 
 ing for, and one's self least of all. 
 
 This letter Swift refused for five days to open, 
 from a strange inner consciousness that it foreboded 
 evil. 
 
 Gay was interred with all the pomp of a peer of 
 the realm in Westminster Abbey, the burial-place of 
 our mighty dead. The Duke of Queensberry erected 
 for him a splendid monument. 
 
198 SWIFT. 
 
 Gay wrote his own epitaph : 
 
 Life is a jest, and all things show it ; 
 I thought so once, but now I know it. 
 
 The last and most illustrious of Swift's friends was 
 
 POPE. 
 
 The little feminine* Pope of Twickenham, with his 
 wig, his stays, and his nurse, was the greatest poet of 
 last century. 
 
 Swift was his patron, protector, and friend. He 
 weaned him from the coarse society of the wits of 
 that age. Swift saw that the revelry "and punch- 
 drinking of the wits, which shortened their lives 
 and enlarged their waistcoats," was too much for the 
 delicate mind and sickly body of little Pope. Swift in- 
 troduced him to Harley the Premier, and to St. John, 
 Secretary of State. 
 
 At Court, Swift told them that the greatest poet 
 in England was one Pope, a young Papist ; that he 
 was translating the " Iliad," for which he would have 
 them all subscribe, " for," said he, " Pope will not 
 commence to print until I procure for him a thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 Pope, very much through Swift's influence, realised 
 in all ;!^8,ooo for his " Homer " — a larger sum, indeed, 
 than was realised by any other author during last 
 century. With part of this money Pope purchased 
 
 * A writer calls Pope effeminate. Mistaken judgment. Pope 
 was feminine, but not effeminate. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 199 
 
 Twickenham Villa, where he brought his beloved 
 ■parents to live and die. This sum gave him what 
 Swift was ever anxious he should possess — financial 
 independence. Referring to this independence, Swift 
 represents Pope as 
 
 Appealing to the nation's taste, 
 Above the reach of want is placed ; 
 By Homer dead was taught to thrive. 
 Which Homer never could alive ; 
 And sits aloft on Pindar's head, 
 Despising slaves that cringe for bread. 
 
 Pope invites Swift to pay him a visit in these 
 words : " Come to Bath. Homer will support his 
 children." Swift taught both Pope and Gay that 
 money meant independence. Swift would not, like 
 <Gay, be a lap-dog or tame cat even to a Duchess 
 of Queensberry. 
 
 When the Premier offered to make him his chap- 
 lain. Swift replied : " I will be no man's chaplain " ; 
 and when Harley ventured to send him the fifty 
 pound bank-note he returned it with indignation. 
 He would be " in no man's hire." Pope realised this 
 spirit of independence, which he embodied in these 
 words : 
 
 Oh ! let me live my own and die so soon ; 
 
 To live and die is all I have to do ; 
 
 Maintain a poet's dignity and ease, 
 
 And see what friends, and read what books, I please. 
 
 Pope, like Swift, had a large share of good sense, 
 -of which he sings so prettily : 
 
 Good sense, which only is the gift of heaven, 
 And, though no science, fairly worth the seven. 
 
20O SWIFT. 
 
 He shows his supreme good sense, as well as 
 genius, in the two following lines, of which Ruskin 
 says "that they are the most complete, the most 
 concise, and the most lofty expression of moral 
 temper existing in English words " : 
 
 Never elated when one man's oppressed, 
 Never dejected whilst another'^ blessed. 
 
 Pope, like Swift, was proud. " I am so proud," 
 says Swift, " I make all the great Lords come up to 
 me." Pope writes : 
 
 Yes, I am proud ; I must be proud to see 
 Men not afraid of God afraid of me ; 
 Safe from the Bar, the Pulpit, and the Throne, 
 Yet touched and shariied by ridicule alone. 
 
 Pope, unlike Swift, hated Courts. Swift was in 
 his element there, and knew their ways. " At Court 
 it is the custom," he says, " to keep your face but 
 not your promise." Pope was shy and awkward. 
 Conscious of this he says : 
 
 I was not born for Courts and great affairs ; 
 I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers. 
 
 He writes to Martha Blunt that he had the honour 
 to be asked to Court, but the grace to stay away. 
 Pope, like Swift, was divine in pity. His tender- 
 ness even for the brute creation is exquisite. How 
 touchingly he writes of "The lamb who licks the 
 hand just raised to shed his blood"; and of the 
 Indian who 
 
 Thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
 His faithful dog will bear him company. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 201 
 
 Like Swift's, the happiest period of Pope's life 
 was when struggling for fame. After having 
 gained it they were not satisfied, Johnson says 
 that " Pope's first work in life was making verses, 
 and his last was improving them." That master- 
 piece of man, "The Dunciad," was written by Pope 
 at Swift's request. Pope, writing to Dr. Sheridan, in 
 1728, says that " The Dunciad " had never been writ 
 but at Swift's request and for his deafness ; " for had 
 he been able to converse with me, do you think I 
 had used my time so ill ? " 
 
 How much of " The Dunciad " was really Swift's 
 we can never know. This, however, we do know, 
 that Pope had the gift of appropriation — the faculty 
 of picking other men's brains. 
 
 Pope writes to Swift : " The inscription to ' The 
 Dunciad ' is now printed and inserted in the poem. 
 Do you care I should say anything further how much 
 that poem is yours ? since, certainly, without you it 
 had never been." 
 
 Of course Swift, who had a supreme contempt 
 either for literary or any other kind of fame, and who 
 sent his own writings into the world anonymously, 
 did not wish his name flaunted before the world as an 
 assistant writer of " The Dunciad." None knew that 
 better than Pope. Swift, in his next letter to Pope, 
 ignores the question entirely. There can be no 
 doubt, however, that during Swift's stay with Pope 
 he not only suggested but taught the little wasp of 
 Twickenham how to use his sting with effect against 
 the Grub Street critics. Swift warned Pope not to 
 
202 SWIFT. 
 
 •be provoked into transmitting the names of the Grub 
 Street authors into his verses, or they would be as 
 well known in after ages as himself ; and as to the 
 difference between good and bad fame, it is a perfect 
 trifle. Swift also warns him not to linger too long in 
 correcting, refining, and polishing the satire, or the 
 Grub Street rogues will be all dead before they are 
 gibbeted. The concluding lines of "The Dunciad" 
 are truly sublime. 
 
 Bennet Langton told Johnson, on the authority 
 of Spence, that Pope himself admired those lines 
 so much that when he repeated them his voice 
 faltered. 
 
 " And well it might, sir," said Johnson, " for they 
 are noble lines." 
 
 One evening, after dinner [says Boswell], Johnson repeated 
 to us, in his forcible melodious manner, the concluding lines of 
 " The Dunciad." While he was talking loudly in praise of those 
 4ines, one of the company ventured to say : " Too fine for such 
 a poem." " A poem on vehat ? " said Johnson, with a disdainful 
 look. " Why, on dunces.'' " It was worth while being a dunce 
 then." "Ah, sir, hadst thou lived in those days ! It is not worth 
 while being a dunce now, when there are no wits."* 
 
 Swift had written the great prose Dunciad, the 
 " Tale of a Tub," and suggests to Pope that he should 
 write the classical poetical Dunciad. It would be 
 an interesting study for the student of Swift who had 
 leisure to analyse " The Dunciad," and pick the 
 phrases that are unmistakably Swift's, such zs., 
 " Nothing is sacred now but villainy." These words 
 
 * Boswell's "Life of Johnson," Nimmo's Edition, p. 165. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 203 
 
 are too misanthropical to be the conception of Pope. 
 Swift, however unjust, was sincere in his hatred of 
 the world as a whole. Pope's hatred of the world 
 was affectation and a mere mimicry of Swift. Pope 
 hated individuals; Swift hated the world, but loved 
 individuals. "O, if the world had but a dozen 
 Arbuthnots, I would burn my travels." But, 
 however Swift and Pope hated the world, they loved 
 each other with a love strong as death. In all history 
 there is nothing finer than the love they bore for one 
 another. They had much in common. Swift was 
 the greatest prose satirist, and Pope the greatest 
 poetic satirist, of all times. It is a high privilege to 
 listen to them, as they talk to each other in their 
 letters, or at their club, or the dinner-table. Their 
 letters to each other are delightful. I shall endeavour 
 to arrange a few extracts from those letters in the 
 form of a dialogue. 
 
 Pope. — I look upon a friend in Ireland as upon a friend in 
 the other world, whom, properly speaking, I believe constantly 
 well disposed toward me, and ready to do me all the good he 
 ■can in that state of separation, though I hear nothing from 
 him, and make addresses to him very rarely. A Protestant 
 divine cannot take it amiss that I treat him in the same manner 
 with my patron saint.* 
 
 Swift. — You are an ill Catholic, or a worse geographer, for 
 I can assure you Ireland is not Paradise, and I appeal, even to 
 any Spanish divine, whether addresses were ever made to a 
 friend in hell or purgatory. 
 
 Pope. — At Button's it is reported you are gone to Hanover. 
 Others apprehend some dangerous State treatise from your 
 retirement, and a wit, who affects to imitate Balzac, says that 
 the Ministry was like those heathens of old, who received their 
 oracles from the woods. I whisper that you have gone to meet 
 * Pope was a Roman Catholic. 
 
204 SWIFT. 
 
 some Jesuits from the Court of Rome, in order to settle the 
 most convenient methods to be taken for the coming of the: 
 Pretender. Dr. Arbuthnot imagines your only design is to 
 attend, at full leisure, to the life and adventures of Scriblerus. 
 
 Swift.— God be thanked, I have yet no Parliamentary 
 business, and if they have none with me I shall never seek 
 their acquaintance. I must be a little easy in my mind before I 
 think of Scriblerus. You are to understand that I live in a 
 corner of a vast, unfurnished house. My family consists of 
 a groom, a helper in the stable, a footman, and an old maid, 
 who are all at board wages, and when I do not dine abroad, or 
 make an entertainment, 1 eat a mutton pie and drink half a pint 
 of wine. 
 
 Pope. — I find a rebuke in a late letter of yours that both 
 stings and pleases me extremely. Your saying that I ought to 
 have writ a postscript to my friend Gay's makes me not content 
 to write less than a whole letter. I really thought you would 
 have known yourself to be so certainly entitled to my friendship 
 that it was a possession you could not imagine stood in need of 
 any further deeds or writings to assure you of. 
 
 Swift. — I believe there is not a more miserable malady 
 than an unwillingness to write letters to our best friends ; and 
 a man might be philosopher enough in finding out reasons for 
 it. One thing is clear — that it shows a mighty difference betwixt 
 friendship and love ; for a lover, as I have heard, is always 
 scribbling to his mistress. 
 
 Pope. — ^Whatever you seem to think of your withdrawn and 
 separate state at this distance, and in this absence. Dean Swift 
 lives still in England, in every place and company where he 
 would choose to live, and I find him in all the conversations 
 I keep, and in all the hearts in which I desire any share. We 
 never meet these many years without mention of you. Beside 
 my old acquaintance, I have found that all my friends of a later 
 date are such as were yours before. It is surely my ill fate that 
 all those I most loved, and with whom I most lived, should be 
 banished. There are very few things that give me the anxiety 
 of a wish ; the strongest I have would be to pass my days with 
 you, and a few such as you, but fate has dispersed them all 
 about the world. 
 
 Swift. — If I could permit myself to believe what your 
 civility makes you say, that I am still remembered by my 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 205 
 
 friends in England, I am in the right to keep myself here. 
 "" Non sum qualis eram." * I left you in a period of life when one 
 year does more execution than three of yours, to which, if you 
 add the dulness of air, and of the people, it will make a terrible 
 sum. I have no very strong faith in your pretenders to retirement; 
 you are not of an age for it, nor have gone through either good 
 or bad fortune enough to go into a corner, and form conclusions 
 de coniemptu mundi fiiga Sceculi,-\ unless a poet grows weary 
 of too much applause as Ministers do of too much weight of 
 business. 
 
 Pope. — My friendships are increased by new ones ; yet, no 
 part of the warmth I felt for the old is diminished. Aversions 
 I have none, but to knaves; for fools I have learned to bear 
 with, and such I cannot be commonly civil to, for I think those 
 men are next to knuves who converse with them. 
 
 The top pleasure of my life is one I learned from you, both 
 how to gain and how to use the freedom of friendship with 
 men much my superiors. To have pleased great men, according 
 to Horace, is a praise ; but not to have flattered them, and yet 
 not have displeased them, is a greater. 
 
 Swift. — Your notions of friendship are new to me. I 
 believe every man is born with his quantum, and he cannot give 
 to one without robbing another. I very well know to whom 
 I would give the first place in my friendship ; but they are not 
 in the way. I am condemned to another scene, and therefore 
 I distribute it in pennyworths to those about me, and who dis- 
 please me least, and should do the same to my fellow-prisoners 
 if I were condemned to jail. 1 can likewise tolerate knaves much 
 better than fools, because their knavery does me no hurt in the 
 commerce I have met with them; which, however, I own is more 
 dangerous, though not so troublesome as that of fools. I have 
 often endeavoured to establish a friendship among all men of 
 genius, and would fain have done it. They are seldom above 
 three or four contemporaries, and if they would be united would 
 drive the world before them. 
 
 Pope. — After so many dispersions and so many divisions, 
 two or three of us may yet be gathered together, not to plot, 
 
 * " I am not what I was." 
 
 t Concerning the contempt of the world and the retirement 
 from public business. 
 
2o6 SWIFT. 
 
 not to contrive silly schemes of ambition, or to vex our own or 
 others' hearts with busy vanities, such as, perhaps, at one time • 
 of life or other, take their tour in every man ; but to divert our- 
 selves and the world, too, if it pleases, or at worst, to laugh at 
 others as innocently and as unhurtfully as at ourselves. 
 
 Swift. — I like the scheme of our meeting, after distresses 
 and dispersions ; but the chief end I propose to myself in all 
 my labours is, to vex the world rather than divert it ; and if I 
 could compass that design without hurting my own person or 
 fortune, I would be the most indefatigable writer you have ever 
 seen, without reading. When you think of the world, give it 
 one lash more at my request. I have ever hated all nations,, 
 professions, and communities, and all my love is toward indi- 
 viduals ; for instance, I hate the tribe of lawyers, but I love 
 Counsellor such a one, and Judge such a one. It is so with 
 physicians ; I will not speak of my own trade, soldiers, English, 
 Scotch, French, and the rest. But principally I hate and 
 detest that animal called Man, although I heartily love John, 
 Peter, Thomas, and so forth. This is the system upon which I 
 have governed myself many years ; but do not tell, and so I shall- 
 go on till I have done with them. I have got materials toward 
 a treatise proving the falsity of that definition animal rationale,*' 
 and to show it should be only rationis caprax.^'f 
 
 Pope. — If you come to us I will find you elderly ladies 
 enough that can halloo, and two that can nurse, and they are 
 too old and feeble to make too much noise, when I tell you: 
 they are my own mother and my own nurse. I can also help- 
 you to a lady who is as deaf, though not so old, as yourself. You 
 will be pleased with one another, I will engage, though you do 
 not hear one another. You will converse like spirits — by 
 intuition. 
 
 Swift. — I have almost done with Harridans, and shall soon 
 become old enough to fall in love with girls of fourteen. The lady 
 whom you describe to live in Court, to be deaf, and no party 
 woman, I take to be mythology, but know not how to moralise- 
 it. She cannot be Mercy, for Mercy is neither deaf, nor lives 
 at Court. Justice is blind, and perhaps deaf ; but neither is 
 she a Court lady. Fortune is both blind and deaf, and a Court 
 lady ; but then she is a most d able party woman, and will 
 
 * A rational animal. t Capable of reason. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 207 
 
 never make me easy as you promise. It must be Riches, which 
 answers all descriptions. I am glad she visits you ; but my 
 voice is so weak that I doubt she will never hear me. 
 
 Pope. — Dr. Arbuthnot is, at this time, ill of a very dangerous 
 distemper. He bids me tell you (and I write this by him) he 
 lives or dies your faithful friend, and one reason he has to 
 desire a little longer life is the wish to see you once more. 
 
 Swift. — Dr. Arbuthnot's illness is a very sensible affliction 
 to me, who, by living so long out of the world, have lost that 
 hardness of heart contracted by years and general conversation. 
 I am daily losing friends, and neither seeking nor getting 
 others. Oh ! if the world had but a dozen Arbuthnots in it, I 
 would burn my travels ; but, however, he is not without fault, 
 I pray God, protect him, for he is an excellent Christian, though 
 not a Catholic. 
 
 Pope. — I am sorry poor P * is not promoted in this age, 
 
 for certainly, if his reward be of the next, he is of all poets the 
 most miserable. My name is as bad a one as yours, and hated 
 by all bad people, from Hopkins and Sternhold to Gildon and 
 Cibber. 
 
 Svi^lFT. — Take care the bad poets do not outwit you, as they 
 have served the good ones in every age, whom they have pro- 
 voked to transmit their names to posterity. Mavius is as well 
 known as Virgil, and Gildon will be as well known as you if his 
 name gets into your verses ; and as to the difference between- 
 good and bad fame it is a perfect trifle. 
 
 Pope. — I have often imagined to myself that, if ever all of 
 us meet again — after so many varieties and changes ; after so 
 much of the old world and old man is altered, scarce a single 
 thought of the one, any more than a single atom of the other, 
 remains just the same. — I have fancied, I say, that we should 
 meet like the righteous in the Millennium, quite in peace, 
 divested of all our former passions, smiling at our past follies, 
 and content to enjoy the kingdom of the just in tranquility. 
 
 Swift. — To hear boys like you talk of Millenniums and 
 tranquility ! I am older by thirty years. Lord Bolingbroke by 
 twenty, and you but by ten, than when we last were together. 
 And we should differ more than ever — you coquetting a maid of 
 honour, my Lord looking on, to see how the gamesters play, and 
 
 * Ambrose Philips. 
 
2o8 SWIFT. 
 
 I railing at you both. I desire you and all my friends v^\\\ take a 
 special care that my disaffection to the world may not be im- 
 puted to my age, for I hafve credible witnesses ready to depose 
 
 that it hath never varied from the twenty-first to the f eighth 
 
 year of my life. Pray fill that blank charitably. 
 
 Pope.— I really enter, as fully as you can desire, into your 
 principle of love of individuals, and I think the way to have a 
 public spirit is first to have a private one ; for who can believe 
 that any man can care for a hundred thousand people who 
 never cared for one ? 
 
 Swift. — Drown the world ! I am not content with despising 
 it ; but I would anger it if I could, with safety. I wish there 
 were an hospital built for its despisers, where one might act 
 with safety; and it need not be a large building, only I would 
 have it well endowed. 
 
 Pope. — I find you would rather be employed as an avenging 
 angel of wrath, to break your vials of wrath over the heads of 
 the wretched creatures of this world ; nay, would make them 
 eat your book,* which you have made, I doubt not, as bitter a 
 pill for them as possible. 
 
 Swift.— I tell you, after all, that I do not hate mankind ; it 
 is vous auntres who hate them, because you would have them 
 reasonable animals, and are angry at being disappointed. 
 I have always rejected that definition, and made another of my 
 
 own. I am no more angry with than I was with the kite 
 
 that last week flew away with one of my chickens ; and yet I 
 was pleased when one of my servants shot him two days after. 
 
 Pope. — Your kind letter affected me so much that it made 
 me like a girl. 
 
 I was sorry to think that you could youi-self be easier in your 
 house than in mine, though, at the same time, I can allow for a 
 tenderness in your way of thinking, even when it seemed to 
 want that tenderness. I cannot explain my meaning ; perhaps 
 you know it. To your bad health I fear there was added some 
 ■disagreeable news from Ireland, which might occasion your so 
 sudden departure. 
 
 Swift.— I thought it best to return to what fortune has 
 made my home. I find it more convenient to be sick here 
 without the vexation of making my friends uneasy; yet my 
 
 * "Gulliver." 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 209 
 
 giddiness would not alone have done it, if that unsociable, com- 
 fortless deafness had not quite tired me. And I believe I 
 should have returned from the inn if I had not feared it was 
 only a short intermission, and the year was late, and my license 
 expiring. Surely, beside all other faults, I should be a very ill 
 judge to doubt your friendship and kindness. But it has 
 pleased God that you are not in a state of health to be mortified 
 with the care and sickness of a friend. Two sick friends never 
 did well together. Such an office is fitter for servants and 
 humble companions, to whom it is wholly indifferent whether 
 we give them trouble or not. The case would be quite other- 
 wise if you were with me. You could refuse to see anybody. 
 And here is a large house where we need not hear each other, 
 if we were both sick. I have a race of orderly, elderly people 
 of both sexes at command, who are of no consequence, and 
 have gifts proper for attending us; who can bawl when I am 
 deaf, and tread softly when I am only giddy and would sleep. 
 
 Pope. — The inscription to The Dunciad is now printed and 
 inserted in the poem. Do you care I should say anything 
 further how much that poem is yours, since certainly without 
 you it had never been ? 
 
 Swift's next letter does not reply to this question^ 
 being principally a lamentation over the death of 
 poor Congreve. 
 
 Pope. — It pleases me that you received my books at last ; 
 but you have never once told me if you approve the whole or 
 disapprove of some parts of the commentary. It was my 
 principal aim, in the entire work, to perpetuate the friendship 
 between us, and to show that the friends or the enemies of one 
 were the friends or enemies of the other. If in any particular 
 anything be stated or mentioned, in a different manner from 
 what you like, pray tell me freely, that the new edition, now 
 coming out here, may have it rectified. 
 
 Swift. — You were so careful of sending me The Dunciad 
 that I have received five of them, and have pleased four friends. 
 I am one of everybody who approve every part of it, text and 
 comment, but am one abstracted from everybody in the happi- 
 ness of being recorded your friend, while wit, and humour, and 
 politeness shall have any memorial among us. 
 
 P 
 
2IO SWIFT. 
 
 Pope. — I hope as you do that we shall meet in a more 
 durable and more satisfactory state; but the less sure I am of 
 that, the more I would indulge it in this. 
 
 Swift. — If it please God to restore me to my health, I shall 
 readily make a third journey ; if not we must part as all human 
 creatures have parted. 
 
 Pope. — God forbid that I should expect you to make a 
 voyage that would in the least affect your health. 
 
 Neither would I change you, my absent friend, for the best 
 present friend round the globe. 
 
 Swift. — I look upon you as an estate from which I receive 
 my best annual rents, although I am never to see it. 
 
 Among his last letters Swift writes to Pope : 
 "I have nobody now left but you. Pray be so 
 kind as to outlive me, and then die as soon as you 
 please ; but without pain, and let us meet in a better 
 place." 
 
 In his correspondence, whether with Ministers of 
 State or men of literature, Swift's letters are the 
 cleverest and best. There is an unmistakable manly 
 ring about them — a touch, to be sure, of domineering 
 and conscious superiority, but withal full of brilliant 
 wit and practical wisdom. Even his cynicism is 
 softened with quaint humour. A wonderful interming- 
 ling of severity and tenderness appears. " Drown the 
 world," writes Swift to Pope. " I am not content 
 with despising it. I would anger it if I could ;" but 
 adds pathetically, " Oh, if the world had but a dozen 
 Arbuthnots I would burn my Travels." 
 
 Time and space forbid further quotation from this 
 glorious record of a bygone age. We have made 
 these quotations, not merely because they are pleasing 
 and delightful reading, but as illustrative of certain 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 211 
 
 phases of Swift's character which otherwise could not 
 have been portrayed so vividly. 
 
 Although Swift loved Pope mightily, he disliked 
 his pettiness, his vanity, and want of generosity. 
 Pope has been severely blamed for his mean trickery 
 in publishing the "Miscellany." This condemnation 
 is too severe. I should rather be inclined to ascribe 
 it to Pope's inordinate vanity that every fragment 
 of his literary work, even to his letters, should be 
 published. 
 
 A shrewd thinker remarks it was well that the latter 
 intercourse of Pope and Swift became no closer than 
 it was. The sudden breaking away of Swift from 
 Pope, in 1727, may have deeper meaning than that 
 which Swift assigned. Swift, however, was never 
 deceitful, either in praise or blame, and the praise 
 that he bestows upon him proves that he never had 
 any distrust of Pope. 
 
 Thackeray says that "Swift taught Pope mis- 
 chief." He never said a truer thing. 
 
 0,ne strikingcharacteristic of Swift was his mastery 
 over the spirits of men. He conceived a daring 
 scheme — daring even for his brilliant intellect — that 
 one or two geniuses combined could drive the world 
 before them. Swift did it. By force of genius he 
 became for a time the dictator of the politics of 
 England, 
 
 Apart from politics, however, let us trace the 
 working of this scheme in literature. He writes the 
 " Tale of a Tub," perhaps the severest prose satire 
 in any language. Not satisfied with that, he writes 
 
 p 2 
 
212 SWIFT. 
 
 to Pope : " Give the world one lash more at my 
 bidding." Pope did it. Doubtless it was at Swift's 
 suggestion that Pope wrote that most polished 
 poetical satire, "The Dunciad." Anyhow, it is 
 certain that Swift had a part in it. Pope writes to 
 Swift (the inscription to " The Dunciad " is now 
 printed and inserted in the poem) : " Do you care I 
 should say anything further how much thatjpoem is 
 yours, since certainly without you it had never been ? " 
 
 Not satisfied even with that, Swift crowns all by 
 writing " Gulliver." 
 
 These may be characterised as immortal satires 
 on mankind in general ; but they also united to 
 satirise individuals. To quarrel with one was to 
 quarrel with both. I shall illustrate this by a few 
 quotations. When politics broke for a time the 
 friendship between Swift and Addison, Pope also, 
 strangely enough, found cause for quarrel with 
 Addison, whom he satirised, doubtless at Swift's 
 suggestion, or to please Swift. This satire was not 
 meant for publication ; but hearing that Addison had 
 spoken slightingly of him, he sent him a specimen of 
 what he would say to his face, rather than behind his 
 back : 
 
 View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, 
 And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise ; 
 Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, 
 And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer. 
 Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike. 
 Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike — 
 Alike reserve to blame or to commend, 
 A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend ; 
 Dreading e'en fools by flatterers besieged, 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 213 
 
 And so obliging that he ne'er obliged, 
 Like Cato, give his little senate laws, 
 And sit attentive lo his own applause. 
 While wits and templars every sentence raise, 
 And wonder with a foolish face of praise. 
 Who but must laugh, if such a man there be ? 
 Who would not weep if. Atticus were he ? 
 
 Pope adds, significantly: "Addison, after I 
 sent him that, treated me very civilly ever afterwards." 
 Need we wonder ? Pope truly said : " Satire's my 
 weapon." 
 
 Another at whom Swift took offence was Lady 
 Suffolk, the supposed mistress of George II. Says 
 Leigh Hunt : " She had offended Pope by not doing 
 something for Swift, which, according to the Dean 
 and his friends, she had led him to believe she would." 
 
 Pope accordingly satirised her thus : 
 
 Yet Chloe sure was formed without a spot : 
 Nature in her then erred not, but forgot. 
 With every pleasing, every prudent part, 
 Say, what can Chloe want ? She wants a heart. 
 
 Another with whom Swift quarrelled was Thomas, 
 Earl of Wharton, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, whose 
 character he portrays thus : 
 
 The Earl, by the force of a wonderful constitution, has some 
 years passed the greatest climacteric, without any visible effects 
 of old age, either on his body or his mind, and in spite of a 
 continual prostitution to those vices which usually wear out 
 both . Whether he walks, or whistles, or swears, or talks bawdy, 
 or calls names, he acquits himself in each beyond a Templar 
 of three years' standing. With the same grace, and in 
 the same style, he will rattle his coachman in the midst of the 
 street, where he is Governor of the Kingdom ; and all this is 
 without consequence, because it is in his character, and what 
 everybody expects. The ends he attains by lying appear to be 
 
214 SWIFT. 
 
 more owing to the frequency than the art of them — his lies 
 being sometimes detected in an hour, often in a day, and 
 always in a week. He swears solemnly he loves you, and will 
 serve you ; and your back is no sooner turned but he tells those 
 about him you are a dog and a rascal. He goes constantly to 
 prayers in the forms of his place, and will talk bawdy and 
 blasphemy at the chapel door. He is a Presbyterian in politics 
 and an Atheist in religion, but he chooses at present to whore 
 with a Papist. In his commerce with mankind, his general 
 rule is to endeavour to impose on their understandings, for 
 which he has but one receipt^a composition of lies and oaths. 
 He bears the gallantries of his lady with the indifference of a 
 Stoic, and thinks them well recompensed by a return of 
 children to support his family, without the fatigues of being a 
 father. 
 
 But here I must desire the reader's pardon if I 
 cannot digest the following facts in so good a 
 manner as I intended : 
 
 He has three predominant passions which you will seldom 
 find united in the same man ; these are love of power, love of 
 money, and love of pleasure. They ride him sometimes by turns, 
 sometimes all together. He was never yet known to refuse or 
 to keep a promise. It is thought expedient for some reasons 
 that the world should be informed of his Excellency's merits, as 
 soon as possible, and these traits of character may serve for 
 hints to any person who may hereafter have a mind to write 
 memories of his Excellency's life. 
 
 Swift's bitterness against Wharton must be 
 ascribed to the fact that his lordship, through some 
 supposed slight to his chaplain, prorogued the Con- 
 vocation in Ireland, and prevented the remission of 
 the First Fruits, which gave afterwards so much 
 trouble to Swift. Pope takes up Swift's quarrel, and 
 satirises Wharton thus in scathing language : 
 
 Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days, 
 Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise, 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 215 
 
 Born with what e'er could win it from the wise, 
 Women or fools must like him, or he dies. 
 Though wondering Senates hung on all he spoke, 
 The club must bawl him master of the joke ; 
 Shall parts so various aim at nothing new ? 
 He'll shine a TuUy and a Wilmot, too, 
 Then turn repentant, and his God adores 
 With the same spirit that he drinks and wh — s. 
 
 Says Lord Macaulay : " Wharton was the most 
 universal villain that I ever knew." 
 
 Swift, it would seem, had a misunderstanding 
 with James Bridges, Duke of Chandos, about the 
 time he received the dukedom, or, as the Dean puts 
 it at the beginning of an epigram : 
 
 James Bridges and the Dean had long been friends ; 
 James is beduked — of course, their friendship ends. 
 And sure the Dean deserved a sharp rebuke. 
 From knowing James, to boast he knows the Duke. 
 
 Pope once more espouses Swift's side, and 
 satirises the place and person of the Duke thus : 
 
 At Timon's villa let us pass a day, 
 Where all cry out what sums are thrown away : 
 Who but must laugh the master when he sees 
 A puny insect shivering at a breeze. 
 
 I think these quotations sufficiently prove that to 
 quarrel with Swift was to quarrel with Pope. As 
 satirists. Swift and Pope were the greatest in ancient 
 or modern times. Rome had its Horace and Juvenal ; 
 France had its Boileau and Voltaire ; but Great 
 Britain had its Swift and Pope. " The influence of 
 their satire was subtle and far-reaching," says Hannay. 
 
2i6 SIVIFT. 
 
 " The influence, of course, can never be estimated in 
 detail, but it can be speculated on. Both of these 
 men influenced Voltaire. 
 
 " There can be little doubt, that 'Gulliver/ and even 
 that one line of Pope : 
 
 The right divine of Kings to govern wrong, 
 
 helped the House of Hanover to keep down the 
 Jacobites, and had a distinct action on the American 
 and French Revolutions." 
 
 Swift and Pope paid each other magnificent com- 
 pliments. In a review of his literary friends. Swift 
 addresses him thus : 
 
 Hail ! happy Pope, whose generous mind, 
 
 Detesting all the statesman kind. 
 
 Contemning Courts at Courts unseen, 
 
 Refus'd the visits of a Queen. 
 
 A soul with every virtue fraught. 
 
 By sages, priests, or poets taught ; 
 
 Whose filial piety excels 
 
 Whatever Grecian story tells. 
 
 A genius for all stations fit, 
 
 Whose meanest talent is his wit ; 
 
 His heart too great, though fortune little, 
 
 To lick a rascal statesman's spittle. 
 
 Pope is even more complimentary to Swift. 
 In one of the last letters that he ever wrote he 
 says: 
 
 If I can think that neither he [Bolingbroke] nor you 
 despise me, it is a greater honour to me by far, and will be 
 thought so by posterity, than if all the House of Lords writ 
 commendatory verses upon me ; the Commons ordered me to 
 print my works ; the Universities gave me public thanks ; and 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 217 
 
 the King, Queen, and Prince crowned me with laurel. You 
 are a very ignorant man ; you do not know the figure his name 
 and yours will make hereafter. I do, and will preserve all the 
 memorials I can that I was of your intimacy, " Longo sed proxi- 
 mus intervallo." I will not quarrel with the present age ; it has 
 -done enough for me in making and keeping you my friends. 
 Do not you be too angry at it. It has done and can do neither 
 of you any manner of harm as long as it has not and cannot 
 burn your works ; while those subsist you will both appear the 
 greater men of the time in spite of Princes, and Ministers, and 
 the wisest in spite of all the errors you may please to commit. 
 Adieu. 
 
 Pope writes thus to the Earl of Orrery regarding 
 Swift : 
 
 My sincere love for this valuable, indeed incomparable, man 
 will accompany him through life, and pursue his memory, were 
 I to live a hundred lives, as many of his works will live which 
 are absolutely original, unequalled, unexampled. His humanity, 
 his charity, his condescension, his candour, are equal to his wit, 
 and require as good and true a taste to be equally valued. 
 
 Such was the admiration and love which this 
 illustrious band of literary brethren bore for one 
 another ; nothing grander appears in history. 
 
 Pope died in 1744. 
 
 Bolingbroke, in Pope's last illness, stood by his 
 chair, and leaning upon it, wept like a child. Shortly 
 before he died, he rose at midnight and went to his 
 study and commenced to write. How sad to think 
 that at that moment his friend Swift was, if not a 
 raving madman, at least an imbecile in the dreary 
 Deanery of St. Patrick ! 
 
 Bolingbroke, the brilliant St. John, should 
 naturally, here, have followed Pope as another of 
 
2i8 SWIFT. 
 
 Swift's friends. The lives of the illustrious two were 
 so interwoven with one another that the arrangement 
 would have been desirable. But as I have already 
 traced the different phases of Swift's character, in 
 his connection with Bolingbroke as a politician, it 
 would be a work of supererogation to deal with him) 
 in this chapter as one of Swift's illustrious literary- 
 friends. 
 
 Thackeray denounces Swift for his companion- 
 ship with these bright intellects, and actually throws 
 doubt upon his religious sincerity. He says : " The 
 boon companion of Pope and Bolingbroke, who chose 
 these as the friends of his life, and the recipients 
 of his confidence and affection, must have heard 
 many an argument and joined in many a conversa- 
 tion over Pope's port, or St. John's Burgundy, which 
 would not bear to be repeated at other men's boards." 
 Could anything be more unfair than this supposition, 
 "must have heard".' Had Mr. Thackeray himself 
 been present at the supposed conversations, he could 
 not have spoken more emphatically. It is easy to 
 make charges, but equally difficult to prove them. 
 He has absolutely no proof whatever for this unjust 
 assertion, " must have heard." There is a letter from 
 Pope and another from Bolingbroke to Swift which 
 reduce this "must" into nothing. Swift writes to 
 Pope to convert him from Popery. In his dictatorial 
 style he writes, "Give up your religion," etc. Pope, 
 in reply, parries the attack playfully and pleasantly. 
 It is different with Bolingbroke. In a remarkable 
 letter to Swift he writes, earnestly defending himself 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 219. 
 
 from the charges of a freethinker in its irreligious 
 sense : 
 
 For since the truth of Christianity is as evident as matters 
 of fact, on the belief of which so much depends, ought to be, 
 and agreeable to all our ideas of justice, these freethinkers 
 [such as he had described] must needs be Christians on the 
 best foundation — on that which St. Paul himself established ; I 
 think it was St. Paul : " Omnia probate, quod bonum est 
 tenete." 
 
 This letter goes far to show the probable nature 
 of the religious conversation over the port and 
 Burgundy. The brilliant St. John was an audacious 
 profligate, but was no fool nor hypocrite. He knew 
 better than to contradict himself before such a man 
 as Swift, who on one occasion told him that he 
 renounced his philosophy because his life belied it. 
 If Bolingbroke was a hypocrite, that alternative 
 equally defends Swift. Thackeray seems not to 
 have known that Bolingbroke, during his boon com- 
 panionship with Swift, was not the bold speculator 
 in Atheistical argument that he afterwards became, 
 when he retired from politics and power. It was 
 only after his death that his religious views became 
 thoroughly known. Says Johnson : " The coward 
 left half-a-crown to a hungry Scotchman" [Mallet] 
 " to pull the tricker after he was dead." I contend, 
 therefore, that the supposed conversation over " Pope's 
 port or St. John's Burgundy " is highly improbable ; 
 and that Mr. Thackeray's reflection on Swift's 
 religious sincerity is, at once, unworthy and un- 
 warrantable. 
 
220 SWIFT. 
 
 Thackeray is still more unreasonable. He goes 
 on to contrast Harry Fielding and Dick Steele with 
 Swift for religious sincerity. " These were," he says, 
 "especially loud, and I believe fervent, in their 
 expressions of belief." He informs us that they 
 were " unreasoning and Church of England men. 
 But Swift, his mind had had a different schooling, 
 and possessed a very different logical power. He 
 was not bred up in a tipsy guard-room, and did not 
 learn to reason in a Covent Garden tavern. He 
 could conduct an argupent from beginning to end. 
 He could see forward with a fatal clearness. In his 
 old age, looking at the 'Tale of a Tub,' when he 
 said, ' Good God, what a genius I had when I wrote 
 that book ! ' I think he was admiring, not the genius, 
 but the consequences to which the genius had brought 
 him — a vast genius, a magnificent genius — a genius 
 wonderfully bright and dazzling, and strong to seize, to 
 know, to see, to flash upon falsehood and scorch it into 
 perdition, to penetrate into the hidden motives and 
 expose the black thoughts of men ; an awful, an evil 
 spirit." What an irreligious sentiment ! Thackeray 
 distinctly tells us that the outcome of Swift's pene- 
 trating genius and logical mind, which could conduct 
 an argument from beginning to end, which could seize 
 upon truth and scorch falsehood into perdition, — that 
 the result of this was infidelity ; therefore Swift had 
 no religion. What a bold assertion in a lecture- 
 room, before an assembly the majority of which, 
 in all likelihood, were pious ladies ! Surely Mr. 
 Thackeray did not mean this. If, therefore, Mr. 
 
THE MAN OF SOCIETY. 221 
 
 Thackeray failed to interpret himself to his audience, 
 is it any wonder that he failed to interpret Swift ? 
 
 I have lingered over the story of Swift's illustrious, 
 literary friends and contemporaries, not merely be- 
 cause it is pleasing and a high privilege to mix in 
 such brilliant company, and to listen to such wit 
 and wisdom, but because we can trace through their 
 intercourse with Swift many striking phases of his- 
 character which otherwise it would have been im- 
 possible for us to have portrayed so vividly. I have 
 also lingered over the story of Swift's bosom friends, 
 who knew him best and longest, to show how they 
 worshipped and adored him ; and that it should be 
 left to such men as Lord Jeffrey, Lord Macaulay, 
 and Mr. Thackeray — Whigs, all of them — to discover 
 and proclaim to the world, a century after Swift is in 
 his grave, that he was "the epitome of everything 
 that is vile and contemptible in human nature " — an. 
 outrageous slander ! 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 SWIFT : THE HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 As a humorist Swift ranks high. Amongst the 
 wits in the reign of Queen Anne he was the prince 
 of humorists. Humour, like gentleness, almost 
 eludes definition. Gentleness is an expression on 
 the face of love ; humour is a subtle form of wit. 
 " Humour in its perfection," says Swift, " is pre- 
 ferable to wit." It is difficult to transpose humour. 
 Swift's humorous satires were excellent ; but how 
 good they were one can never know, as so much of 
 their zest was in the manner and circumstances in 
 which they were spoken. " Some things," says 
 Swift, " are extremely ' witty to-day, of fasting, or 
 in this place, or at eight o'clock, or spoken by 
 Mr. What-d'y-call-'m, or in a summer morning; 
 any of the which, by the smallest transposal or 
 misapplication is utterly annihilated." Swift often 
 wrote, not according to his judgment, but according 
 to his humour. 
 
 On one occasion he set London in a roar of 
 laughter by the Bickerstaff prediction. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 223 
 
 This Partridge was a cobbler, and one of a 
 fraternity of quacks who professed to know physic, 
 blood-letting, and astrology. They lived a life of 
 sheer imposture, and were consulted by the credu- 
 lous, the superstitious, and the ignorant,' in high as 
 well as in low society. They were acute enough 
 to keep within the strict letter of the law, and felt 
 safe. Swift, however, was deternained to crush them, 
 and he did it most effectually by overwhelming with 
 ridicule the ablest and most plausible of them all. 
 Swift launches his prediction under the nom de plume 
 of Bickerstaff, a name which his eye caught on a 
 signboard above the door of a smithy, to which he 
 added the surname of Isaac. With inimitable 
 coolness, precision, and caution, he declares that 
 his only aim is to rescue the sublime art of astrology 
 from a few mean, illiterate traders between us and 
 the stars, who import a yearly stock of nonsense, 
 lies, folly, and impertinence, which they offer to the 
 world as genuine from the planets, though they 
 descend from no greater height than their own brains. 
 He next, with admirable gravity, compares his pre- 
 dictions with theirs, and calls private friends to prove 
 that all his predictions for last year, such as the 
 miscarriage at Toulon, and the loss of Admiral 
 Shovel, had been foretold by him, to the day and 
 hour, with unerring certainty. He now begins to 
 predict with a kind of apology. 
 
 My first prediction is but a trifle, yet I will mention it to 
 show how ignorant those sottish pretenders to astrology are in 
 their own concerns. It relates to Partridge the almanac-maker. 
 
224 SWIFT. 
 
 I have consulted the star of his nativity by my own rules, and 
 find he will infallibly die upon the 29th of March next, about 
 eleven at night, of a raging fever. Therefore I advise him to 
 consider of it and settle his affairs in time. ' 
 
 The fatal 29th arrives, and next morning the announce- 
 ment is made that John Partridge is dead. In the evening a 
 knock is heard at the door. Betty, the servant, shows the visitor 
 into the dining-room. Partridge, thinking that this was one of 
 his cautious City patients who, under the shade of night, had 
 come to consult him, enters, and to his amazement finds the 
 gentleman on a table with a foot-rule in his hand measuring the 
 walls. 
 
 "Pray, sir," says Partridge, "not to interrupt you, have you 
 any business with me ? " 
 
 " Only, sir," rephes he, " order the girl to bring me a better 
 light, for this is but a dim one." 
 
 " Sir," says I, " my name is Partridge." 
 " Oh, the doctor's brother, belike," cries he. "The staircase 
 and these two apartments hung in close mourning will be 
 sufficient." 
 
 With that I assumed a greater air of authority, and de- 
 manded who employed him or how he came there. 
 
 "Why, I was sent, sir, by the company of undertakers," 
 says he, " and they were employed by the honest gentleman who 
 is executor to the good doctor departed, and our rascally porter, 
 I believe, is fallen fast asleep with the black cloth or he had 
 been here, and we might have been tacking up by this time." 
 
 " Sir," says I, " pray be advised by a friend, and make the 
 best of your speed out of my doors, for I hear my wife's voice, 
 which, by the way, is pretty distinguishable, and in that corner of 
 the room stands a good cudgel which somebody has felt before 
 now. If that light in her hands and she knew the business you 
 come about without consulting the stars,.I can assure you it will 
 be employed very much to the detriment of your person." 
 
 " Sir," cries he, bowing with great civility, " I perceive 
 extreme grief for the loss of the doctor disorders you a little at 
 present ; but early in the morning I will wait on you with all the 
 necessary materials." 
 
 Well, once more I got my doors closed and prepared for bed,, 
 in hopes of a little repose after so many ruffling adventures. Just 
 as I was putting out my light in order to get it, another bounces 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 225 
 
 as hard as he can knock. I open the window, and ask who is 
 there and what he wants. 
 
 " I am Ned the sexton,'' replies he, " and come to know 
 whether the doctor left any orders for a funeral sermon, and 
 where he is to be laid, and whether his grave is to be plain or 
 bricked ? " 
 
 " Why, sirrah," says I, " you know me well enough ; you know 
 I am not dead, and how dare you affront me after this 
 manner ? " 
 
 " Alack a day, sir,'' replies the fellow, " why, it is in print, 
 and the whole town knows you are dead. Why, there is Mr. 
 White the joiner is but fitting screws to your coffin. He will be 
 here with it in an instant ; he was afraid you would have wanted 
 it before this time." 
 
 " Why, sir," says I, " you shall know to-morrow to your cost 
 that I am alive and like to be." 
 
 " Why, it is strange, sir," says he, " that you should make such 
 a secret of your death to us, that are your neighbours. It looks as 
 if you had a design to defraud the Church of its dues ; and let me 
 tell you, for one that has lived so long by the heavens, that is 
 unhandsomely done." 
 
 " Hist, hist," says another rogue that stood by him, " away, 
 Doctor, into your flannel gown as fast as you can, for here is a 
 whole pack of dismals coming to you with their black equipage, 
 and how indecent it will look for you to stand frightening folks at 
 your window when you should have been in your coffin for these 
 three hours." 
 
 In short, what with undertakers, embalmers, joiners, sextons, 
 and your d — d clergy hawkers upon a late practitioner in physic 
 and astrology, I got not one wink of sleep that night, nor scarce 
 a moment's rest ever since. But I will keep my temper and 
 proceed with the narrative. I could not stir out of doors for 
 the space of three months after this, but presently one comes up 
 to me in the street : 
 
 " Mr. Partridge, that coffin you was last buried in I have 
 not yet been paid for." 
 
 " Doctor," cries another dog, " how do you think people can 
 live by making graves for nothing? Next time you die you may 
 even toll the bell yourself for Ned." 
 
 A third rogue tips me by the elbow and wonders how I can 
 have the conscience to sneak abroad without paying my funeral 
 
226 SWIFT. 
 
 expenses. My poor wife is run almost distracted with being 
 called Widow Partridge, when she knows it is false. But the 
 greatest grievance is a paltry quack that takes up my calling 
 under my nose, and in his printed directions with N.B., says he 
 lives in the house of the late ingenious Mr. John Partridge, an 
 eminent practitioner in leather, physic, and astrology. After such 
 barbarous treatment as this, can the world blame me when I ask 
 what has become of the freedom of an Englishman ? 
 
 The Bickerstafif predictions were read with great 
 avidity, not only in this country, but also in France 
 and Spainj and their influence was comical and far- 
 reaching. In Portugal the predictions were thought 
 to be real, and were ordered by the Inquisition to 
 be burned. Out of this Bickerstaff hoax arose 
 the Tatler and Spectator which have influenced 
 our nineteenth century literature. Steele, in his 
 opening Tatler, gives Swift the merit, and justly 
 so, of having rendered the name of Bickerstaff famous 
 through all parts of Europe. 
 
 I have recorded this Bickerstaff hoax at con- 
 siderable length; but the task I have set myself is not 
 so much a chronological biography of Swift as a 
 sketch of his characteristics, and the predictioas- 
 vividly portray his comicality. Yet, even this 
 Bickerstaff prediction has its serious side. The 
 futility of human testimony, even as to plain matters 
 of fact, has never been so vividly or ludicrously 
 proved. 
 
 In 1726 the streets of Dublin were infested by a 
 gang of villainous ruffians, who weekly committed 
 the most atrocious outrages. The citizens could not 
 walk the streets at night without carrying firearms 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 227 
 
 or their lives in their hands. At length one of the 
 gang, Ebenezer Elliston by name, was traced to his 
 lair, caught, tried, and executed. Swift shrewdly 
 foresaw that the execution would have little effect on 
 the fraternity to whom the culprit belonged; that 
 they would witness the execution with stoical in- 
 difference, and, enveloping themselves in the con- 
 fidence of secrecy, would pursue their nefarious work 
 with redoubled energy. Accordingly, on the morn- 
 ing of the execution, a broadsheet was published, 
 entitled, " The last speech and dying words of 
 Ebenezer Elliston, published at his desire for the 
 common good." Ebenezer says that he is not so 
 much sorry for the offence he has given to God and 
 the world as for the bad success of his villainies in 
 bringing him to this untimely end. "I am now going 
 to suffer," he says, "the just punishment for my crimes 
 prescribed by the law of God and man." In order to 
 atone for the crimes he has committed against God 
 and society, he has resolved before he dies to assist 
 the officers of justice in detecting the crimes of others. 
 Accordingly he says : "I have left with an honest man 
 — and, indeed, the only honest man that I was ever 
 acquainted with — the names of all my wicked 
 brethren, the present places of their abode, with a 
 short account of the chief crimes they have com- 
 mitted. ... I have likewise set down the 
 names of those we call our setters, of the wicked 
 houses we frequent, and of those who receive and 
 buy our stolen goods. I have solemnly charged this 
 honest man, and have received his promise upon 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 SWIFT. 
 
 oath, that whenever he hears of any rogue to be 
 tried for robbing or housebreaking, he will look 
 into his list, and if he finds the name there of any 
 thief concerned, to send the whole paper to the 
 Government. Of this I hereby give my late com- 
 panions fair and public warning, and hope they will 
 take it." 
 
 As Elliston was known to have been a man of 
 education, and as the confession showed such 
 knowledge of the ways of thievery, it was not 
 doubted by the fraternity but that it was genuine, 
 and that Elliston had betrayed them. This publica- 
 tion struck alarm into the hearts of the boldest 
 malefactors. In a week the streets were clear of the 
 fraternity. The gang had fled from the city in terror 
 and dismay. Swift, therefore, by a practical joke, 
 performed that which the Lord Lieutenant and his 
 law officers had been powerless to accomplish. 
 
 Another humorous incident in the life of Swift 
 is vividly portrayed. In the year 1724, the physicians 
 made application to Parliament to prevent apothe- 
 caries dispensing medicines without the prescription 
 of a physician. 
 
 The apothecaries, knowing Swift's power as a poli- 
 tician, requested him to write and present a petition 
 in their behalf against the Bill then pending in 
 Parliament. Swift complied, although he was really 
 in favour of the Physicians' Bill, when the following 
 petition was printed and dispersed in the Court of 
 Requests, to the infinite merriment of the physicians 
 and to the consternation of the apothecaries : 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 229 
 
 Being called upon by several retailers and dispensers of 
 drugs and medicines about town, to use our endeavours against 
 the Bill. In regard of our common interest, and in gratitude 
 to the said retailers and dispensers of medicines which we have 
 always found to be very effectual, we presume to lay the following 
 reasons before the public against the said Bill. 
 
 Our practice, which consists chiefly in outward applications, 
 having been always so effectual that none of our patients have 
 been obliged to undergo a second operation, excepting one 
 gentlewoman, who, after her first burial, having burdened her 
 husband with a new brood of posthumous children, her second 
 funeral was by us performed without any farther charges to the 
 said husband of the deceased. And we humbly hope that one 
 single instance of this kind, a misfortune owing merely to the 
 avarice of the sexton in cutting of a ring, will not be imputed 
 to any want of skill or care in our company. We hope it will 
 be considered that there are multitudes of necessitous heirs and 
 penurious parents, persons in pinching circumstances with 
 numerous families of children, wives that have lived long, many 
 robust aged women with great jointures, elder brothers with 
 bad understandings, single heirs of great estates, whereby the 
 collateral line are for ever excluded, reversionary patents, and 
 reversionary promises of preferments, leases upon single lives, 
 and play-debts upon joint lives, and that the persons so aggrieved 
 have no hope of being speedily relieved any other way than 
 by the dispensing of drugs and medicines in the manner they 
 now are — burying alive being judged repugnant to the known 
 laws of this kingdom. 
 
 That frequent funerals contribute to preserve the genealogies 
 of families, and the honours conferred by the Crown, which are 
 no where so well illustrated as on this solemn occasion — to 
 maintain necessitous clergy ; to enable the clerks to appear 
 in decent habits to officiate on Sundays ; to feed the great 
 retinue of sober and melancholy men who appear at the said 
 funerals, and who must starve without constant and regular 
 employment. Moreover, we desire it may be remembered that, 
 by the passing of this Bill, the nobility and gentry will have 
 their old coaches lie upon their hands, which are now employed 
 by our company. And we farther hope that frequent funerals 
 will not be discouraged, as it is by this Bill proposed, it being 
 the only method left of carrying some people to church. 
 
23° SWIFT. 
 
 We likewise humbly presume that the interest of the several 
 trades and professions which depend upon ours may be re- 
 garded ; such as that of hearses, coaches, coffins, epitaphs, and 
 bell-ropes, stone-cutters, feathermen, and bell-ringers, and 
 especially the manufacturers of crapes, and the makers of snuff, 
 who use great quantities of old coffins, and who, considered in 
 the consumption of their drugs, employ the greatest number of 
 hands of any manufacture of the kingdom. 
 
 We may imagine with what amazement, if not 
 amusement, the apothecaries listened to the reading 
 of this petition, the most humorous ever penned. 
 
 I shall give an illustration of Swift's humour in 
 poetry. Swift had a supreme contempt for soldiers. 
 As a class, he thought the men were grossly im- 
 moral, and the officers, in spite of their fine clothes 
 and gay chatter, were an idle, selfish, and illiterate 
 set of men. Accordingly Swift satirises a captain, 
 who arrives on a visit to Sir Arthur Acheson's, in a 
 humorous poem, entitled "The Grand Question 
 Debated." With consummate irony Swift pictures 
 the captain's arrival at the Castle gate (with his regi- 
 ment), in all his pride and glory, and his insolent, 
 brainless chatter at the dinner-table : 
 
 At last comes the troop, by word of command, 
 Drawn up in our court, when the Captain cries stand ; 
 Your ladyship lifts up the sash to be seen, 
 For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen. 
 The Captain, to show he is proud of the favour, 
 Looks up to your window and cocks up his beaver ; 
 His beaver is cocked, pray, madam, mark that. 
 For a Captain of Horse never takes off his hat, 
 Because he has never a hand that is idle. 
 For the right holds the sword, the left holds the bridle. 
 Then flourishes thrice his sword in the air. 
 As a compliment due to a lady so fair. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 231 
 
 He goes on to picture sarcastically the Captain's 
 absurd behaviour at table : 
 
 To shorten my tale ; for I hate a long story, 
 
 The Captain at dinner appears in his glory ; 
 
 The Dean and the Doctor* have humbled their pride, 
 
 For the Captain's entreated to sit by your side. 
 
 And because he's their betters you carve for him first ; 
 
 The parsons for envy are ready to burst. 
 
 The servants, amazed, are scarce ever able 
 
 To keep off their eyes as they wait at the table ; 
 
 And Molly and I have thrust in our nose, 
 
 To peep at the Captain in all his fine clo'es. 
 
 Dear madam, be sure he's a fine spoken man, 
 
 Do but hear on the clergy how glibe his tongue ran ; 
 
 And madam, says he, if such dinners you give. 
 
 You'll ne'er want for parsons as long as you live. 
 
 I ne'er knew a parson without a good nose. 
 
 But the D 's as welcome wherever he goes. 
 
 Mister Curate, for all your grave looks, I'm afraid, 
 
 You cast a sheep's eye on her ladyship's maid ; 
 
 I wish she would lend you her pretty white hand 
 
 In mending your cassock and smoothing your band ; 
 
 For the Dean was so shabby, and looked like a ninny. 
 
 That the Captain supposed he was curate to Jinny. 
 
 Whenever you see a cassock and gown, 
 
 A hundred to one but it covers a clown ; 
 
 Observe how a parson comes into a room, 
 
 .... me, he hobbles as bad as my groom. 
 
 A scholard when just from his college broke loose, 
 
 Can hardly tell how to cry bo to a goose ; 
 
 To give a young gentleman right education, 
 
 The army's the only good school in the nation. 
 
 Swift was the greatest humorist of all time. 
 The humorous stories ascribed to Swift would fill 
 a volume. Many of these are apocryphal. Sir 
 Walter Scott and Sheridan have inserted many of 
 
 * Doctor Jinny, a clergyman of a neighbouring parish. 
 
232 SWIFT. 
 
 these in their biographies of Swift, and have given to 
 the world an interesting but unfaithful portrait of 
 their hero. 
 
 The picture of such a man as Swift must be 
 drawn not so much from his gayer as from his more 
 serious moments. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 233 
 
 SWIFT: THE APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Aphorisms are the generalised expressions of many 
 human experiences, as doctrines are the crystallised 
 form of the faith of many souls. 
 
 Aphorisms will be the literature of the future. 
 " I fancy/' says Johnson, " mankind may come in 
 time to write all aphoristically, except in narration ; 
 grow weary of preparation and connection and illus- 
 tration, and all those arts by which a big book is 
 made." 
 
 I have thought it worth while to collect a series 
 of aphorisms from the writings of Swift, and have 
 arranged them alphabetically that the work of 
 reference may be an easy one. 
 
 These aphorisms exhibit Swift as a polished 
 courtier and man of letters ; as aristocrat and 
 democrat; as humorist and joker; as satirist and 
 punster; as a gay roysterer and grave divine; as 
 a practical politician and sententious moralist. 
 
 APHORISMS. 
 
 DESIRE OF ADULATION. 
 
 Love of flattery in most men proceeds from the 
 mean opinion they have of themselves ; in women, 
 from the contrary. 
 
234 SWIFT. 
 
 PLATONIC AFFECTION. 
 Violent friendship is much more lasting, and as 
 much engaging as violent love. 
 
 THE NECESSITY THAT THE POET SHOULD HAVE 
 AN AIM. 
 
 I do not call him a poet that writes for his diver- 
 sion any more than a fiddler who amuses himself 
 with a violin. — Vol. v. p. 242. 
 
 ANCIENTS. 
 Your business is not to steal from them, but to 
 improve upon them and make their sentiments your 
 own ; for though I light my candle at my neighbour's 
 fire, that does not alter the property, or make the 
 wick, the wax, or the flame, or the whole candle less 
 my own. — Vol. v. p. 248. 
 
 MATRIMONIAL ANGLING. 
 
 The reason why so few marriages are happy is 
 because young ladies spend their time in making 
 nets, not in making cages. — Vol. v. p. 458. 
 
 ANTICIPATION AND RETROSPECTION. 
 
 When we desire or solicit anything, our minds 
 
 run wholly on the good side or circumstances of it ; 
 
 when it is obtained, our minds run wholly on the 
 
 bad ones. 
 
 APPARITIONS. 
 
 One argument to prove that the common rela- 
 tions of ghosts and spectres are generally false, may 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 235 
 
 be drawn from the opinion held that spirits are 
 never seen by more than one person at a time. 
 
 THE CONDESCENSION OF ASPIRATION. 
 
 Ambition often puts men upon doing the meanest 
 offices ; so climbing is performed in the same posture 
 with creeping. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL ASSIMILATION. 
 
 If another man's reason fully convinces me it 
 becomes my own reason. 
 
 SOCIAL ATTRACTION. 
 
 Few are qualified to shine in company ; but it is in 
 most men's power to be agreeable. 
 
 AUTOCRACY. 
 Arbitrary power is the natural object of tempta- 
 tion to a prince. — Vol. v. p. 460. 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF BEGINNINGS. 
 The weakest hand can open a floodgate to drown 
 a country which a thousand cannot stop. 
 
 STATE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF. 
 Religion seems to have grown an infant with age, 
 and requires miracles to nurse it, as it had in its 
 infancy. 
 
 HIGH BREEDING. 
 Good manners is the art of making every reason- 
 able person in the company easy, and to be easy 
 ourselves. 
 
236 SWIFT. 
 
 CHRISTIANITY AND CULTURE. 
 Ignorance may perhaps be the mother of super- 
 stition, but experience has not proved it to be so 
 of devotion ; for Christianity always made the most 
 easy and quickest progress in civilised countries. 
 
 LITERARY CLAPTRAP. 
 
 Authors are like lobsters, you must look for the 
 best meat in the tails, and lay the bodies back again 
 in the dish. — Vol. v. p. 249. 
 
 COMPENSATION. 
 
 All fits of pleasure are balanced by an equal 
 degree of pain or languor ; it is like spending this 
 year part of the next year's revenue. 
 
 SELF-CONFIDENCE. 
 
 Positiveness is a good quality for preachers and 
 orators, because he that would obtrude his thoughts 
 and reasons upon a multitude will convince others 
 the more, as he appears convinced himself. 
 
 RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM. 
 To remove opinions fundamental in religion is 
 impossible, and the attempt wicked, whether those 
 opinions be true or false ; unless your avowed design 
 is to abolish that religion altogether. 
 
 THE BALANCE OF THE MENTAL CONSTITUTION. 
 Beware of letting the pathetic part swallow up 
 the rational : for philosophers have long agreed that 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 237 
 
 passion should never prevail over reason. — Vol. v. 
 p. 95. 
 
 BARRENNESS OF CONTROVERSY. 
 
 Argument, as usually managed, is the worst sort 
 of conversation ; as it is generally in books the worst 
 sort of reading. 
 
 MONOPOLY OF CONVERSATION. 
 
 It is not a fault in company to talk much ; but 
 to continue it long is certainly one. — ^Vol. v. p. 238. 
 
 COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 A wise man ought to have money in his head, but 
 not in his heart. 
 
 CRITICS. 
 
 They are at best but the drones of the learned 
 world, who devour the honey, and will not work 
 themselves ; and a writer need no more regard them 
 than the moon does the barking of a little senseless 
 cur. — Vol. V. p. 7. 
 
 THE RARITY OF LITERARY CULTURE. 
 
 A man of letters out of the three professions is 
 almost a prodigy. — Vol. v. p. 109. 
 
 THE ENERVATING EFFECTS OF MORAL 
 DEGRADATION. 
 
 Nothing more unqualifies a man to act with 
 prudence than a misfortune that is attended with 
 shame and guilt. 
 
238 ~ SWIFT. 
 
 ORAL, DELIVERY. 
 
 I cannot get over the prejudice of taking some 
 little offence at the clergy for perpetually reading 
 their sermons ; and I cannot but think that whatever 
 is read differs as much from what is repeated without 
 book, as a copy does from the original. — Vol. v. 
 p. 96. 
 
 EVILS OF DEMOCRACY. 
 
 Some men admire republics, because orators 
 flourish there most, and are the greatest enemies 
 of tyranny; but my opinion is that one tyrant is 
 better than a hundred. — Vol. v. p. 7. 
 
 FALSE DESTRUCTIVENESS. 
 
 It is in disputes, as in armies, where the weaker 
 side sets up false lights, and makes a great noise, 
 to make the enemy believe them more numerous 
 and strong than they really are. 
 
 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 Invention is the talent of youth, and judgment 
 of age ; so that our judgment grows harder to please 
 when we have fewer things to offer it. This goes 
 through the whole commerce of life. 
 
 EPICURUS. 
 
 The corrupt part of his sect only borrowed his 
 name, as the monkey did the cat's claw, to draw 
 the chestnut out of the fire. — Vol. v. p. 4. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 239 
 
 THE PREPONDERANCE OF HUMAN EVIL. 
 
 All the virtues that have ever been in mankind 
 are to be counted upon a few fingers ; but their 
 follies and vices are innumerable, and time adds 
 hourly to the heap. 
 
 THE DULNESS OF FALSEHOOD. 
 
 As universal a practice as lying is, and as easy a 
 one as it seems, I do not remember to have heard 
 three good lies in all my conversation, even from 
 those who were most celebrated in that faculty. 
 
 THE DISADVANTAGES OF FANATICISM. 
 
 Violent zeal for truth has a hundred to one odds 
 to be either petulancy, ambition, or pride. 
 
 THE SOCIAL FAVOURITE. 
 A nice man is a man of nasty ideas. 
 
 RETICENCE OF FEELING. 
 
 Conceal your esteem and love in your own breast, 
 and reserve your kind looks and language for private 
 hours. — Vol. V. p. 135. 
 
 FREETHINKERS. 
 Ignorance and vice are two ingredients abso- 
 lutely necessary in the composition of those you 
 generally call Freethinkers, who, in propriety of 
 speech, are no thinkers at all. — Vol. v. p. 106. 
 
240 SWIFT. 
 
 INTRACTABLENESS OF GENIUS. 
 Men of great parts are often unfortunate in the 
 management of public business, because they are apt 
 to go out of the common road by the quickness of 
 their imagination. 
 
 SIGN OF GENIUS. 
 When a true genius appears in the worldj you 
 may know him by this sign — that the dunces are all 
 in confederacy against him. 
 
 SPONTANEITY OF GENIUS. 
 Flowers of wit ought to spring, as those in a 
 garden do, from their own root and stem, without 
 foreign assistance. — Vol. v. p. 248. 
 
 GESTURE. 
 Action in one that speaks in public is the same 
 thing as a good mien in ordinary life. — Vol. v. p. 157. 
 
 THE BURDEN OF GRATITUDE. 
 Nothing is so great a discouragement to generous, 
 persons as the fear of being worried by acknow- 
 ledgments. — Vol. j£i. p- 237. 
 
 CLERICAL GRAVITY. 
 Levity is the last crime the world will pardon 
 in a clergyman. — Vol. v. p. 113. 
 
 THE INGREDIENTS OF HAPPINESS. 
 Riches are nine parts in ten of all that is good 
 in life, and health is the tenth. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 241 
 
 HESITATION. 
 
 It is a miserable thing to live in suspense ; it is 
 the life of a spider. 
 
 HYPOCHONDRIA. 
 
 Imaginary evils soon become real ones by in- 
 dulging, our reflections on them. 
 
 THE POWER OF THE IDEAL. 
 
 Fiction has mighty advantages over truth, because 
 imagination can build nobler scenes than fortune or 
 nature will be at expense to furnish. 
 
 THE POWER OF ILLUSION. 
 
 Fading and insipid do all objects accost us that 
 are not conveyed in the vehicle of delusion. 
 
 FOLLY OF IMPIETY. 
 
 Those who are against religion must needs be 
 fools; and therefore we read that of all animals God 
 refused the first-born of an ass. 
 
 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 He that calls a man ungrateful, sums up all the 
 evil that a man can be guilty of — Vol. v. p. 5. 
 
 MEANNESS OF FEMALE INTELLECT. 
 
 A very little wit is valued in a woman, as we 
 are pleased with a few words spoken plain by a 
 parrot. 
 
242 SWIFT. 
 
 PAVING THE WAY WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 
 Very few men live at present but are providing to 
 live another time. 
 
 EXAGGERATION OF SUBURBAN INTERESTS. 
 Half-a-dozen fools are prating in a coffee-house, 
 and presently think their own noise about their ears 
 is made by the world. 
 
 LITERARY JEALOUSY. 
 When a great genius appears in the world, the 
 dunces are all in confederacy against him. — Vol. v. 
 p. 113. 
 
 THE LIMITS OF PRIVATE JUDGMENT. 
 Every man, as a member of the commonwealth, 
 ought to be content with the possession of his own 
 opinion in private, without troubling his neighbour 
 or disturbing the public. 
 
 SOBER JUDGMENT. 
 A man of right sense has all the essentials' of 
 good breeding, although he may be wanting in the 
 forms of it. — Vol. v. p. 189. 
 
 THE DEFECT OF PARTIAL KNOWLEDGE. 
 We have just religion enough to make us hate, 
 but not enough to make us love one another. 
 
 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LAUGHING AT YOU AND 
 WITH YOU. 
 Men are contented to be laughed at for their wit, 
 but not for their folly. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 243 
 
 THE INADEQUACY OF LAW. 
 
 Laws are like cobwebsj which may catch small 
 flies, but let wasps and hornets break through. 
 
 THE POWER OF A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 There are two kinds of immortality-;-that which 
 the soul really enjoys after this life, and that imagi- 
 nary existence by which men live in their fame and 
 reputation. The best and greatest actions have pro- 
 ceeded from the prospect of the one or the other of 
 these. — Vol. v. p. 166. 
 
 THE IMPERMANENCE OF LIFE. 
 
 There is nothing constant in this world but in- 
 constancy. — Vol. V. p. 8. 
 
 MAKING THE BEST OF LIFE, 
 A man duly wise creams off nature, leaving the 
 sour and the dregs for philosophy and reason to 
 
 lap up. 
 
 DESIRE OF LONGEVITV. 
 
 Every man desires to live long, but no man would 
 be old. 
 
 NECESSITY OF RESPECT TO LOVE. 
 
 Without mental cultivation it is impossible to 
 acquire or preserve the friendship and esteem of 
 a wise man, who soon grows weary of acting the 
 lover and treating his wife like a mistress, but wants 
 a reasonable companion and a true friend through 
 every stage of life. — Vol. v. p. 134. 
 
 R 3 
 
244 SWIFT. 
 
 LUCK. 
 The power of fortune is confessed only by th^ 
 miserable ; for the happy impute all their success to 
 prudence or merit. — Vol. v. p. 45$. 
 
 THE DISQUALIFICATION OF LUXURY. 
 Education is always the worse in proportion to 
 the wealth and grandeur of the parents. — Vol. v. 
 p. 122. 
 
 RELATION OF RELIGION TO MORALS. 
 
 Religion is the best motive of all actions, yet 
 religion is allowed to be the highest instance of self- 
 love. 
 
 THE HIGH TOWER CATCHES THE MIST. 
 
 Censure is the tax a man pays the public for 
 being eminent. 
 
 THE CONNECTION OF WIT WITH MADNESS. 
 
 No head that is good for anything is long without 
 some disorder. 
 
 GOOD MANNERS. 
 
 A sort of artificial good sense adapted to the 
 meanest capacities, and introduced to make mankind 
 easy in their commerce with each other. — Vol. v. 
 
 p. 185. 
 
 ILL MANNERS. 
 
 Nothing is so great an instance of ill manners 
 as flattery. If you flatter all the company you please 
 none, if you flatter only one or two you affront the 
 rest. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 245 
 
 EVILS OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 Matrimony has many children — repentance, dis- 
 cord, poverty, jealousy, sickness, spleen, loathing. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGES OF MARTYRDOM. 
 The clergy are not beloved in any nation where 
 Christianity is the religion of the country. Nothing 
 can render them popular but some degree of 
 persecution. 
 
 THE USES OF MATURITY. 
 
 The latter part of a wise man's life is taken up in 
 curing the follies, prejudices, and false opinions he 
 had contracted in the former. 
 
 THE OBSERVATION OF NEUTRALS. 
 A stander-by may sometimes see more of the 
 game than he that plays it. — Vol. v. p. 4. 
 
 HUMAN NEED. 
 Complaint is the largest tribute Heaven receives^ 
 and the sincerest part of our devotion. 
 
 RELIGIOUS NARROWNESS. 
 God's mercy is all over His works ; but divines of 
 all sorts lessen that mercy too much. 
 
 VALUE OF OATHS. 
 You may force men by interest or punishment to 
 say or swear they believe, and to act as if they be- 
 lieved ; you can go no further. 
 
246 SWIFT. 
 
 SAFEGUARDS AGAINST OPPOSITION. 
 
 There are but three ways for a man to revenge 
 himself of the censure of the world : to despise it, to 
 return the like, or to endeavour to live so as to avoid 
 it ; the first of these is usually pretended, the last is 
 almost impossible, the universal practice is for the 
 second. ' 
 
 RECOIL FROM THE PAST.' 
 No wise man ever wished to be younger. 
 
 HIGH PATRONAGE. 
 
 Princes usually make wiser choices than the ser- 
 vants whom they trust for the disposal of places. — 
 Vol. V. p. 462. 
 
 LITERARY PERSONALITY. 
 
 Whatever the poets pretend, it is plain they give 
 immortality to none but themselves ; it is Homer 
 and Virgil we reverence and admire, not Achilles or 
 .(Eneas. With historians it is quite the contrary ; our 
 thoughts are taken up with the actions, persons, and 
 events we read, and we little regard the authors. 
 
 PHILISTINISM. 
 Discretion is a species of lower prudence, by the 
 assistance of which people of the meanest intellec- 
 tuals, without any other qualification, pass through 
 the world in great tranquillity and with universal 
 good treatment, neither giving nor taking offence. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 247 
 
 PLAGIARISM. 
 
 Barren wits take in the thoughts of others in 
 order to draw forth their own, as dry pumps will not 
 play till water is thrown into them. — Vol. v. p, 248. 
 
 LATENT POWER. 
 
 Although men are accused for not knowing their 
 own weakness, yet perhaps as few know their own 
 strength. It is in men as in soils, where sometimes 
 there is a vein of gold which the owner knows not of. 
 — Vol. V. p. 459- 
 
 SELF-PRESERVATION. 
 
 Self-love, as it is the motive to all our actions, so 
 it is the sole cause of our grief. 
 
 PROCRASTINATION. 
 
 Virtue in old age is a sacrifice to God of the 
 devil's leavings. 
 
 INVENTIVE PRODUCTIVITY. 
 
 The greatest inventions were produced in the 
 times of ignorance ; as the use of the compass, gun- 
 powder, and printing ; and by the dullest nation, as 
 the Germans. 
 
 DUTIES OF THE PULPIT. 
 
 The two principal branches of preaching are, first 
 to tell the people what is their duty, and then to 
 convince them that it is so. — Vol. v. p. 95 . 
 
248 SWIFT. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 
 The preaching of divines helps to preserve well- 
 inclined men in the course of virtue, but seldom or 
 never reclaims the vicious. 
 
 PUSILLANIMITY. 
 
 It is unwise to punish cowards with ignominy ; 
 for if they had regarded that, they would not have 
 been cowards ; death is their proper punishment 
 because they fear it most. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGES OF READING. 
 
 Books give the same turn to our thoughts and way 
 of reasoning that good and ill company does to our 
 behaviour and conversation, without either loading 
 our memories or making us even sensible' of the 
 change. — Vol. v. p. 103. 
 
 SELF-RESPECT. 
 To be vain is rather a mark of humility than 
 pride. 
 
 ONE-SIDED RETICENCE. 
 
 Some people take more care to hide their wisdom 
 than their folly. 
 
 USE OF SARCASM. 
 
 Satire, which is most useful, gives the least offence, 
 and instead of lashing, laughs men out of their follies 
 and vices. — Vol. v. p. 211. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 249 
 
 SARTOR RESARTUS. 
 The universe is a large suit of clothes, which 
 invests everything ; the earth is invested by the air, 
 the air is invested by the stars^ and the stars are 
 invested by the primum mobile. 
 
 FEMALE SCANDALS. 
 A knot of ladies, got together by themselves, is a 
 very school of impertinence and detraction, and it is 
 well if those be the worst. — Vol. v. p. 138. 
 
 SEPARATION OF A MAN AND HIS WORKS. 
 
 Sometimes I read a book with pleasure and detest 
 the author. 
 
 SKELETON SERMONS. 
 
 Abstracts, abridgments, and summaries are ad- 
 mirable expedients for being very learned with little 
 or no reading. — Vol. v. p. 249. 
 
 THE SHOP. 
 For a man to talk of his own trade, or business, 
 or faculty is a great breach of good manners. 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 A wise man is never less alone than when he is 
 alone. — Vol. v. p. 7. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY IN SORROW. 
 Reflect upon what you have left, and not upon 
 what you have lost. — Vol. xi. p. 296. 
 
25° SWIFT. 
 
 SHORTNESS OF LIFE'S SPRINGS. 
 You have but a few years to be young and hand- 
 some in the eyes of the world ; and as few months in 
 the eyes of a husband, who is not a fool. — ^Vol. 
 V. p. 139. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 The stoical scheme of supplying our wants, by 
 lopping off our desires, is like cutting off our feet when 
 we want shoes. — Vol. v. p. 458. 
 
 THE ADMIRATION OF SUCCESS. 
 Men nowadays worship the rising sun, and not the 
 setting. 
 
 THE ELOQUENCE OF SUPERFICIALITY. 
 
 The common fluency of speech in 'many men and 
 
 most women is owing to a scarcity of matter and a 
 
 scarcity of words. 
 
 CLERICAL TACT. 
 
 Discretion is nowhere so serviceable as to the 
 clergy. — Vol. v. p. 113. 
 
 THE TARES AMONG THE WHEAT. 
 The motives of the best actions will not bear too 
 strict an inquiry. 
 
 UTILITARIAN TEACHING. 
 Wisdom that converses about the surface is pre- 
 ferable to that pretended philosophy which enters 
 into the depths of things, and theti comes gravely 
 back with informations and discoveries that are good 
 for nothing. 
 
HUMORIST AND APHORISTIC PHILOSOPHER. 251 
 
 GOD CHOOSES THE WEAK THINGS. 
 
 The richest minerals are ever found under the 
 most ragged and withered surface of earth. 
 
 THE BIRTH AND DEATH OF THOUGHT. 
 
 Imagination is the womb of things ; memory is 
 the grave. 
 
 INDEPENDENCE OF THOUGHT. 
 
 It may be prudent in me to act sometimes by 
 other men's reasons, but I can think only by my 
 own. 
 
 TREASURES IN EARTHEN VESSELS. 
 
 It is not impossible to be very fine and very 
 filthy. — Vol. V. p. 136. 
 
 THE UNIVERSALITY OF RELIGIOUS TRUTH. 
 
 The Christian religion, in the most early times, 
 was proposed to the Jews and heathens without the 
 article of Christ's divinity. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF TRIFLES. 
 
 Small causes are sufficient to make a man uneasy 
 when great ones are not in the way ; for want of a 
 block he will stumble at a straw. 
 
 THE SELF-INFLICTION OF HUMAN UNHAPPINESS. 
 The miseries of man's life are all beaten out on 
 his own anvil. 
 
252 SWIFT. 
 
 UNBELIEF NOT IMMORAL. 
 No man is answerable to God for the doubts that 
 arise in his own breast, since they are the conse- 
 quence of that reason which He has planted in him. 
 
 VANITY. 
 Vanity is always in proportion to a man's under- 
 standing. 
 
 VIRTUE. 
 
 Virtue is generally a misfortune. The more we 
 sympathise, the more cause we have for wretchedness. 
 
 I venture to think that, in the whole range of 
 English literature it will be difficult to find anything 
 to surpass the practical wisdom which is contained 
 in the sententious brevity of these Aphorisms. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SWIFT : THE NATIONALIST. 
 
 In August, 1714, Swift left England and returned to 
 Ireland — " The Scoundrel Island " — amidst a storm 
 of unpopularity : " an old man battered with the 
 storms of State." 
 
 The Tory Government, in which he was the 
 mainspringj fell because they could not be trusted 
 to maintain the Protestant succession. 
 
 Swift had to share their misfortune and suspicion. 
 Indeed, it was mooted, and generally believed, 
 that Swift, with Oxford and Bolingbroke, the late 
 Premiers, would be tried for treason. The Whig 
 Government, however, were chary of attacking a 
 clergyman after the experience of their encounter 
 with Sacheverell, whose persecution, a few years 
 before, turned them out of office. 
 
 Swift, however, more than once was mobbed by 
 the citizens as he walked the streets of Dublin. The 
 Whigs had cleverly but unjustly managed to make 
 the words Tory' and Jacobite synonymous terms, 
 and, knowing what a power he had been in the late 
 
254 SWIFT. 
 
 Government, they suspected him to be deeply con- 
 cerned in the plot to bring in the Pretender. 
 
 Mistaken judgment. The Irish Protestants did 
 not know their best friend. When the nation and 
 the Ministry were equally divided in opinion as to 
 who should be King, Jonathan Swift, more than any 
 other man, prevented James Stuart from occupying 
 the throne of England. He had other enemies, how- 
 ever, than political. He had deafness and giddiness 
 and other troubles besides. His dancing attendance 
 so long at the Court in England, along with the 
 exorbitant installation fees as Dean, had plunged him 
 deep in debt, which to him was synonymous with the 
 devil. His Archbishop was captious and unfriendly ; 
 his chapter and choir were rebellious ; his deafness 
 and giddiness he could not conquer ; but, with a 
 firm hand and determined will, he speedily reduced 
 his debt, his Archbishop, his chapter, and his choir * 
 to subjection. He had other troubles of a more 
 delicate kind, which we have elsewhere considered. 
 
 His life at this time was miserable in the extreme, 
 and his mind occupied with perfect trifles — La Baga- 
 telle, as he called them. He writes to Pope : " Non 
 sum qualis eram. I left you in a period of life when 
 one year does more execution than three of yours, 
 to which if you add the dulness of air and of the 
 people, it will make up a terrible sum." 
 
 * " My amusements are defending my small dominions 
 against the Archbishop and endeavouring to reduce my re- 
 bellious choir. Perditur hac inter misero Lax." — Letter to 
 Bolingbroke. 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 255 
 
 To Bolingbroke he writes : " I am forced to play 
 at small game, to set the beasts here a-maddening, 
 merely for want of better game." 
 
 In another letter he says : " You know how I 
 loved both Lord Oxford and Lord Bolingbroke, and 
 how dear the Duke of Ormond is to me, and do 
 you imagine I can be easy while their enemies are 
 endeavouring to take off their heads ? " 
 
 For the first half-dozen years of his banishment 
 in Ireland Swift wrote nothing of political import- 
 ance. He interfered nothing with politics, except 
 they were brought to his door by local quarrels. 
 His whole time was devoted to literature, and to the 
 devout and conscientious discharge of duties apper- 
 taining to the office of his sacred calling as Dean 
 of St. Patrick's. 
 
 Stories innumerable have been circulated to the 
 contrary. I have examined these with minute care. 
 All of them are apocryphal ; not one of them has a 
 respectable pedigree. Nothing was more abhorrent 
 to the nature of Swift than irreverence in the per- 
 formance of sacred duties. I know that the world 
 will hardly believe the statement, yet, nevertheless, it 
 is true that Swift, in the highest sense, was a devout 
 and deeply religious man. This, at least, is certain, 
 that he preached in St. Patrick's Cathedral the 
 cardinal doctrines of Christianity. 
 
 Thackeray, however, tells us that the sermons of 
 Swift might have been preached from a Jewish 
 synagogue ; they had not a Christian characteristic. 
 In this matter, however, I prefer to accept the 
 
256 SWIFT. 
 
 judgment of Samuel Johnson rather than the opinion 
 of the author of " Vanity Fair." Says Johnson, Swift 
 complained that he could only preach pamphlets ; 
 but his published sermons clearly show that 
 this judgment of himself was unreasonably severe. 
 Cardinal Newman, whose every sentence is a thing 
 of beauty as well as power, says that laymen should 
 not presume to be the interpreters of things divine. 
 
 Apart from the condemnation of Thackeray, it is 
 to be regretted that even good men like Wilberforce 
 should have thought Swift irreligious. In his diary 
 there is the following entry : " Looked into Swift's 
 letters. What a thoroughly irreligious mind; no 
 trace of Sunday to be found in his journals or his 
 letters to his most intimate friends ! " Had Wilber- 
 force remembered what Hawkesworth wrote of him, 
 it might have modified his severity. "An abhorrence 
 of hypocrisy," says Hawkesworth, " was a striking 
 particular of Swift's character ; but it is difficult to 
 determine whether it was more a virtue than a vice, 
 for it brought upon him the charge of irreligion, and 
 encouraged others to be irreligious; In proportion 
 as he abhorred hypocrisy, he dreaded the imputation 
 of it ; and therefore concealed his piety with as much 
 diligence as others conceal those vices which custom 
 has not made reputable. His constant attendance at 
 church, when he was at the Deanery, he knew would 
 be considered as the duty of his station ; but what- 
 ever had the appearance of voluntary devotion he 
 always took care to hide. When he went to church 
 it was early in the morning, so that although he was 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 257 
 
 constantly at prayers and at the sacrament, yet he 
 appeared to neglect both, as he was at home when 
 others were at church ; and when he went to prayers 
 in his family, the servants assembled at the appointed 
 hour, as if it were by stealth, without any notice from 
 a bell or any other call except the striking of a clock; 
 so that Dr. Delany was for six months in his family 
 before he suspected him of this unfashionable 
 practice." 
 
 Thackeray condemns Swift for thus praying by 
 stealth in a crypt of St. Patrick's Deanery. 
 
 Mr. Thackeray appears not to be well versed in 
 religious literature. As a Christian, was he ignorant 
 of his Divine Master's instructions, which Swift 
 obeyed, " To enter into his closet, and shut the door, 
 and pray to his Father in secret " ? Swift might have 
 his doubts as to the minor doctrines' of Christianity, 
 but it is proved beyond doubt, from the prayers that 
 he composed for Stella on her death-bed, as well as 
 from his printed Sermons, that he not only be- 
 lieved, but preached in St. Patrick's Cathedral with 
 intense conviction, the essential doctrines of our most 
 Holy Faith. Swift also paid great attention to the 
 musical part of the service, although he himself did 
 not know one note of music, and was conscientious 
 in the selection of his choir. , 
 
 Lady Carteret, the wife of the Lord Lieutenant, 
 on one occasion sought the appointment as Vicar 
 Choral for some person in whom she felt an interest. 
 Swift's reply was thoroughly characteristic : " Upon 
 my conscience, madam, if you applied to me for a 
 
 s 
 
258 SWIFT. 
 
 deanery or a bishopric, and were it in my power to 
 give it, you should have it in an instant, because 
 these are preferments where merits are in no way 
 concerned. But in this, madam, my conscience and 
 my credit interpose; for this man's merit is to be 
 brought to the test every day ; and how must I 
 appear, either to my own conscience, or to the eye of 
 the world, if I prefer undeserving persons to such 
 stations? I know nothing of music, madam. I 
 would not give a farthing for all the music in the 
 universe. For my own part, I would rather say my 
 prayers without it ; but as long as it is thought by 
 the' skilful to contribute to the dignity of public 
 worship, by the blessing of God it shall never be dis- 
 graced by me, nor I hope by any of my successors, as 
 long as this poor, oppressed Church of Ireland lasts, 
 which I think, as things go, cannot be long." . 
 
 He was the first Protestant clergyman in Ireland 
 to institute and celebrate weekly communions. 
 
 During these years, from 17 14 until 1720, he 
 mastered the facts and phases of Ireland's gigantic 
 and complicated wrongs. His conviction was, that 
 the INTERNAL EVILS of the nation must be rectified 
 by THE Irish themselves, and that the external 
 EVILS must be rectified by THE English Govern- 
 ment giving Ireland exact political equality with 
 Great Britain, or making Ireland autonomous. 
 
 In 1720 he began his Irish career as a politician 
 and patriot by addressing himself to the rectification 
 of the INTERNAL EVILS of the country. That year he 
 wrote a masterly and trenchant pamphlet entitled. 
 
THE NATIONAUST. 259 
 
 "The Universal Use of Irish Manufactures." It 
 proved a dangerous explosive. It was addressed to 
 the passions of the people as well as to their reason, 
 The pamphlet was written in an inflammatory style, 
 yet full of wisdom. In a few clear and pungent 
 sentences, intelligible to the meanest capacity, he 
 points out what Ireland's commercial wrongs are, 
 and how far they can be met and mastered by them- 
 selves. With startling audacity he tells them to 
 reject and renounce everything wearable that comes 
 from England ; ^to close their markets against that 
 nation, and to burn everything that came from it 
 except its coals. Daring as this proposal to boycott 
 was, it was not treasonable, but what the Irish had a 
 perfect right to do, if they were so minded. 
 
 The pamphlet, however, had another and more 
 daring proposal still. After a fierce and bitter on- 
 slaught against English tyranny, it proposes that 
 Ireland should appeal to Government either for inde- 
 pendence or indemnity for its commercial wrongs. 
 
 The uproar and danger caused by this proposal 
 was tremendous. It at once set Ireland and Walpole's 
 Government in a blaze. 
 
 The pamphlet was condemned as seditious, fac- 
 tious, and virulent. The printer was arrested. At 
 the trial an extraordinary scene occurred. The jury 
 acquitted the culprit; the judge refused to accept 
 their verdict and sent them back to reconsider it. 
 Again they acquitted the prisoner, and again the 
 Chief Justice refused the verdict and sent them 
 back to reconsider it. Nine times was this disgraceful 
 
 s 2 
 
26o SWIFT. 
 
 scene enacted, until at last, overcome with physical 
 fatigue, the jury, "by special verdict," left the case in 
 the hands of the judge. The Lord Lieutenant, who 
 could gauge with unerring accuracy how much the 
 Irish nation could bear, judiciously granted a nolle 
 prosequi. This was the first concession that the 
 English Government had ever made to Irish popular 
 feeling, and it formed a new era in the political annals 
 of Ireland. 
 
 A striking characteristic of Swift is vividly por- 
 trayed by his conduct at this crisis, which proves that 
 he was a born leader of men. A weak or incapable 
 strategist, flushed with victory, would have eagerly 
 pressed forward in quest of new triumphs. Swift 
 knew better. He knew not merely how to fight, but 
 when. He knew that there must be something 
 definite and tangible to fight for — some definite griev- 
 ance or wrong, which the common people, as well as 
 the cultured, could grasp and understand. He felt 
 that a guerilla warfare was a waste of time and 
 strength, and utterly futile. He had kindled a flame, 
 and he would let it spread ; he would wait and 
 renew his strength, and watch his opportunity. 
 Whilst waiting he was by no means idle. He now 
 directed his attention from the tyranny of the 
 English Government to the internal evils and follies 
 of Ireland, which Ireland itself could rectify. 
 
 This year a proposal was set afloat, and a 
 subscription list opened for the establishment of 
 a National Bank in Dublin. Swift was too 
 sound a financier to encourage such a project 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 261 
 
 He saw, however necessary such an institution 
 was in a prosperous country, it was worse than 
 useless in Ireland when trade was paralysed, and 
 where there was nothing to bank. He maintained 
 that it would be a source of fraud and mischief 
 to the nation, and helpful to none except stock- 
 jobbers, whom Swift detested. In order to ridicule 
 the scheme. Swift writes an amusing paper, in which, 
 with mock solemnity, he proposes to establish " A 
 Swearers' Bank." Its profits were to consist in the 
 fine of a shilling from each swearer for the use of 
 an oath. He calculates that the one-half of the 
 Irish nation are swearing souls. The army alone, 
 he says, dispense as many oaths yearly as would 
 produce one hundred thousand pounds nett. The 
 fairs of this kingdom will bring in a vast revenue. 
 The oaths of little Connaught alone, he believes, 
 amount to upwards of three thousand. " It is true," 
 he says, " that it would be impossible to turn all of 
 them into ready money, for a shilling is so great 
 a duty on swearing, that if it was carefully exacted, 
 the common people might as well pretend to drink 
 wine as to swear, and an oath would be as rare 
 among them as a clean shirt." With inimitable cool- 
 ness he proposes that the militia under arms should 
 be exempted from fines on these days, as to exact 
 it from them would simply be to fill the pawnshops 
 with muskets, and swords, and rejoice the hearts of 
 Papists and other disaffected persons to see our 
 militia swear themselves out of their guns and swords. 
 Nor shall advantage be taken of any man's swearing 
 
262 SWIFT. 
 
 in the Irish Courts of Justice, or who has just paid 
 off an attorney's bill. The swearing revenues of the 
 town of Cork were to be given, for ever, by the bank 
 to the support of poor clergymen's widows, and those 
 of Kingsend were to go to the maintenance of sailors' 
 bastards. 
 
 With inimitable* irony he suggests that the 
 " Swearers' Bank " with propriety might be extended 
 to England, and predicts that the profits accruing, 
 from the use of " profane language," if applied to the 
 equipment of the British Navy, would make it the 
 terror of the world. The grave absurdity displayed 
 throughout the argument is delightful. 
 
 Swift's ridicule of the Irish Bank scheme was so 
 effectual, that when the projectors of it went to get 
 the sanction of the Irish Parliament they were 
 laughed out of the House. 
 
 As the champion of Irish nationality Swift had 
 been waiting and watching, with masterly tactics, 
 for a favourable opportunity to test his strength with 
 the English Government. Nor had he long to wait. 
 
 About this time there was a lack of copper coin 
 in Ireland. Accordingly a memorial was forwarded 
 to the English Cabinet petitioning for a remedy. 
 With unusual alacrity the petition was granted. A 
 patent right to coin ;£■ 108,000, in copper money, was 
 granted to one Wood, an iron merchant, whose 
 antecedents were none of the best. This royal grant 
 of coinage in itself was a perfect trifle. Swift shrewdly 
 saw, however, that there was a deeper question in- 
 volved in it — servitude or independence of Ireland. 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 263 
 
 The crisis had now come, and Swift embraced it 
 eagerly, and, by his masterly tactics, secured another 
 victory for the independence of Ireland. Swift 
 pointed out in clear and forcible language, easily 
 understood by peer and peasant, that the grant was 
 a Ministerial job. That the coinage of ;^ 108,000 
 was not required by the necessities of Ireland, but 
 was required only for the necessities of William Wood, 
 who had to recoup himself for a bribe of ;^ 10,000 
 to the Duchess of Kendal, mistress of George I., who 
 had exerted her influence to obtain the patent right 
 of coinage. That it had been obtained without 
 consulting Ireland's Parliament or Ireland's Lord 
 Lieutenant, and was, therefore, an insult to the 
 Irish nation. Swift used many instruments of attack 
 to rouse the nation against the patent : ballads, 
 broadsheets, pamphlets, and Drapier's Letters. His 
 ballads, seasoned with all the bitterness and pungency 
 of his wit, were sung in aristocratic drawing-rooms 
 and in rowdy gin-shops ; in the crowded streets, and 
 in dens of thieves. In the sale of broadsheet literature 
 the flying stationers did a roaring business, whilst 
 the minor pamphlets and Drapier's Letters were 
 scattered broadcast over Ireland. 
 
 Swift knew by experience — the best of all schools 
 — how efficacious this kind of Grub Street literature 
 was in impressing on the will of many the will of 
 one. The " Drapier's Letters," written a hundred 
 and sixty-five years ago, although not of permanent 
 literary value, yet, if measured by their results, still 
 occupy, and deservedly occupy, the first place in 
 
264 SWIFT. 
 
 political literature. Hawkins Brown says " that they 
 are the most perfect pieces of oratory ever composed 
 since the days of Demosthenes." Swift had one 
 advantage over Demosthenes — his inimitable wit 
 and humour. It is evident that Swift meant to give 
 Ireland a more important deliverance than from the 
 copper coin of Wood. This is unmistakably proved 
 from the Drapier's following questions: "Were not 
 the people of Ireland," he asks, "born as free as 
 those of England ? Are they not the subjects of the 
 same king ? Am I a freeman in England, and 
 do I become a slave in six hours by crossing the 
 Channel ? " 
 
 These questions vibrated throughout, the king- 
 dom. Ireland was in a blaze. Clubs were formed 
 to champion Irish nationality. The English Govern- 
 ment recalled the Duke of Grafton, the Lord 
 Lieutenant, whom Walpole characterised as " a fair 
 weather pilot, who knew not what to do in a storm." 
 
 Lord Carteret was sent over to take the helm as. 
 Lord Lieutenant. On his arrival he found that 
 another letter had been issued by the Drapier, 
 pointing out, in burning words of indignation, the 
 gross injustice of legislating for Ireland in a Parlia- 
 ment in which ' she had no representative ; and that 
 Ireland's high offices of trust were filled with English- 
 men, and not Irishmen. " But," says the Drapier, 
 
 "the remedy is in your own hands By the 
 
 laws of God and nature, of nations, and of your own 
 country, you are, and ought to be, as free a people as 
 your brethren in England." He goes on to say : 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 265 
 
 "All government without the consent of the governed 
 is the very definition of slavery," though, he adds, 
 with bitter irony, " eleven men, well armed, will 
 certainly subdue one single man in his shirt." 
 
 Although Lord Carteret privately sympathised 
 with the sentiments, yet officially, as Lord Lieutenant, 
 he was bound to take action against the manifesto. 
 Accordingly a proclamation was issued, denouncing 
 the letter and offering a reward of three hundred 
 pounds for the discovery of the author. The printer 
 was arrested and imprisoned. The Lord Lieutenant 
 was one of the few who knew well who the author 
 was. The day after the proclamation was issued 
 there was a levee in the Castle. Swift had been 
 invited, and he went. Abruptly entering the state- 
 room, and pushing his way through the gay crowd, 
 he never stopped until he reached the presence of 
 Lord Carteret, and, with a stern face and a voice 
 of thunder that paralysed the titled courtiers, ex- 
 claimed: 
 
 " So, my Lord Lieutenant, this is a glorious 
 exploit that you performed yesterday, in issuing 
 a proclamation against a poor shopkeeper whose 
 only crime is an honest endeavour to save his 
 country from ruin. You have given a noble specimen 
 of what this devoted nation is to hope for from your 
 government." 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant, with mild countenance and 
 gentle voice, and apt quotation, replied, in the words 
 of Virgil : 
 
 " Res dura et regni novitas me talia cogunt 
 
266 SWIFT. 
 
 moliri." (Hard fortune, and the newness of my 
 reign, compel me to such measures.) 
 
 This put Swift and the gay courtiers at their ease, 
 and thus ended this strange scene. 
 
 Shortly after this, Swift went to tlie Castle to 
 have an interview with the Viceroy. His lordship 
 was engaged, and Swift had to wait for a little in an 
 antechamber. To amuse himself, he wrote on the 
 window with his diamond ring these words : 
 
 My very good lord, 'tis a very hard task, 
 
 For a man to wait here, who has nothing to ask. 
 
 His lordship, as he came in, observed these lines, 
 and cleverly wrote under them : 
 
 My very good Dean, few people come here, 
 Who have nothing to ask, or nothing to fear. 
 
 As danger became imminent. Swift manfully 
 threw off all disguise and came boldly forward as the 
 champion of Irish nationality. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott relates two anecdotes to illus- 
 trate Swift's bold, stern, and uncompromising temper 
 at this crisis. The first anecdote, says Sir Walter, is 
 well known. A servant, named Robert Blakeley, whom 
 he entrusted to copy out and convey to the press the 
 Drapier's Letters, chanced one evening to absent 
 himself without leave. His master charged him with 
 treachery, and upon his exculpation, insisted that at 
 least he neglected his duties as a servant because he 
 conceived his master was in his power. 
 
 " Strip your livery," he commanded, " begone 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 267 
 
 from the Deanery instantly, and do your worst to 
 revenge yourself that you dare." 
 
 The man retired, more grieved that his master 
 doubted his fidelity than moved by his harsh treat- 
 ment. He was replaced at the intercession of Stella ; 
 and Swift afterwards rewarded his fidelity by the 
 office of verger in the Cathedral of St. Patrick's. 
 
 Sir Walter's other anecdote is, that while Harding, 
 the printer, was in jail. Swift actually visited him in 
 the disguise of an Irish country clown. Some of the 
 printer's family or friends, who chanced to visit him at 
 the same time, were urging him to earn his own release 
 by informing against the author of the Drapier Letters. 
 Harding replied steadily that he would rather perish 
 in jail before he would be guilty of such treachery and 
 baseness. All this passed in Swift's presence, who 
 sat beside them in silence, and heard with apparent 
 indifference a discussion which might be said to 
 involve his ruin. He came and departed without 
 being known to any one but Harding. 
 
 Such are Sir Walter's graphic stories, admirably 
 told, only they are not true. I have quoted them as 
 specimens of innumerable stories that have been 
 related of Swift, equally graphic and apocryphal. 
 
 However, the crisis between England and Ireland 
 has now reached its climax. Shortly before the bill 
 against the printer of the Drapier's Letters was pre- 
 sented before the Grand Jury, Swift issued a masterly 
 address to the citizens of Dublin, clearly pointing 
 out the importance of the verdict which some of their 
 number as jurors would be called upon to give. He 
 
268 SWIFT. 
 
 calmly declared that upon their decision the fate of 
 Ireland rested. If the bill was accepted by the jury, 
 Ireland was vanquished. If the bill was rejected, 
 Ireland was victorious. He left the decision in their 
 hands with the utmost confidence. Nor did he leave 
 it with them in vain, as their verdict next day proved. 
 As was anticipated, when the hour of trial came^ the 
 bill was thrown out. The Chief Justice, as was also 
 anticipated, refused to record their verdictj and dis- 
 missed the jury. Another was immediately sum- 
 moned. Again the bill was thrown out. . This time, 
 however, the jury, to make their verdict against the 
 Government more decisive, coupled it with a^ vindica- 
 tion of the Drapier. 
 
 The battle for Ireland was won. 
 
 A few months afterwards, at the opening of the 
 Irish Parliament, the Lord Lieutenant announced 
 the decision of the Government in these words: 
 " I have His Majesty's command to acquaint you 
 that an entire end is put to the patent formerly 
 granted to Mr. Wood." 
 
 From that moment Swift was the uncrowned King 
 of Ireland. The Irish nation went mad with joy; 
 for nations, like individuals, at times go mad. Such 
 another day as that Ireland had never seen. Bells 
 rang ; drums beat ; bonfires blazed ; banners waved, 
 and processions marched to music. The Drapier's 
 head was struck on medals, stamped on handker- 
 chiefs, woven on banners, and painted on signboards. 
 Throughout the kingdom clubs were formed, foun- 
 tains were opened, and statues erected to his honour. 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 269 
 
 When he visited the provinces, he was received like a 
 sovereign prince. 
 
 " He became/' said Lord Orrery, " the idol of 
 the people of Ireland to a degree cf devotion that 
 in the most superstitious country scarcely any idol 
 ever attained." 
 
 Swift received this worship with supreme contempt. 
 
 We have now seen how Swift stepped into the 
 arena of Irish politics at the decisive moment, and 
 how with tremendous power he had hurled back 
 Ireland's rage and wrongs against the English 
 Government, until Walpole was paralysed, his Lord 
 Lieutenant recalled, his Government measure with- 
 drawn, and the copper scheme blasted. Swift, how- 
 ever, would not rest satisfied with even that victory. 
 
 The next battle Swift fought was for the Irish 
 tenantry against the tyranny of the Irish landlords. 
 Swift makes a heavy indictment against them. 
 "Every squire, almost to a man," he says, "is an 
 oppressor of the clergy ; a racker of his tenants ; a 
 jobber of all public works ; very proud, and generally 
 illiterate." He declares " that the detestable tyranny 
 and oppression of landlords are visible in every part 
 of the kingdom." In the present miserable state of 
 Ireland, Swift accuses the landlords of rack-renting — 
 exactly the same complaint which has been brought 
 against them in our own day. 
 
 "Another great calamity," says Swift, "is the 
 exorbitant raising of the rents of lands. ... A 
 gentleman thinks he has but indifferently improved 
 his estate if he has only doubled his rent-roll. 
 
27° SWIFT. 
 
 Farmers are screwed up to a rack-rent — leases 
 granted but for a small term of years — tenants tied 
 down to hard conditions, and discouraged from culti- 
 vating the lands they occupy to the best advantage 
 by the certainty they have of the rent being raised on 
 the expiration of their leases proportionally to the 
 improvements they shall make. Thus it is that 
 honest industry is restrained ; the farmer is a slave 
 to his landlord ; it is well if he can cover his family 
 with a coarse, homespun frieze." 
 
 Another charge against landlords then, as now, 
 was their absenteeism. This was a frequent subject 
 of Swift's satirical wrath. In " Maxims Controlled," 
 after vividly portraying the mischief done to English 
 country life, by the influx of its gentry to London, he 
 goes on: "The case in Ireland is yet somewhat worse, 
 for the absentees of great estates, who, if they lived 
 at home would have many rich retainers in their 
 neighbourhood, have learned to rack their lands and 
 shorten their leases as much as any neighbouring 
 squire, and the few remaining of those latter, having 
 some vain hopes of employment for themselves or 
 their children, and discouraged by the beggarliness 
 and thievery of their own miserable tenants and 
 cottagers, or seduced by the vanity of their wives on 
 pretence of their children's education [whereof the 
 fruits are 'so apparent], together with that most won- 
 derful and unaccountable zeal for a seat in their 
 assembly, though at some years' purchase of their 
 whole estates; these and some other motives have 
 drawn such a concourse to this beggarly city that the 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 271 
 
 dealers in the several branches of building have found 
 out all the commodious and inviting places for erect- 
 ing new houses, while 1,500 of the old ones, which is 
 a seventh part of the whole city, are said to be left 
 uninhabited and falling to ruin." 
 
 Again, in one of his Drapier Letters, he ridicules 
 the exodus of the Irish aristocracy to London. He 
 asks what it is that induces the gentry of Ireland, 
 who have lost all regard for their own country 
 further than upon account of the revenues they 
 receive from it, to be preceded by thousands and 
 neglected by millions, to be wholly without power, 
 figure, influence, honour, credit, or distinction, in a 
 foreign country, " when they might live with lustre 
 in their own, and that at less than half the expense 
 which they strain themselves to make, without ob- 
 taining any one end, except that which happened to 
 the frog when he would needs contend for size with 
 the ox " .? 
 
 Strange to say that, although Swift spoke and 
 wrote against them severely, yet his personal in- 
 fluence with them was great. He often acted as 
 mediator between the landlords and their tenantry. 
 He did what our present Government, to their 
 honour, recently did — he prevailed upon many of 
 the Irish landlords to modify their legal rights, and 
 to act not only justly, but generously, towards their 
 poor and oppressed tenantry. I shall give an illus- 
 tration of how great Swift's influence was, even 
 with the owners of land. In 1737 he wrote to 
 an alderman of London regarding the extortionate 
 
272 SWIFT. 
 
 raising of rents by the London society which 
 owned Coleraine. Swift did not write in the usual 
 sentimental way^ asking them to be merciful to their 
 poor tenants. He wrote as a shrewd, practical man 
 of business. In clear and forcible language he proved 
 to the society that, in their own interest, it was at 
 once futile and ruinous alike to themselves, as well as 
 to their tenantry, to raise the rents, as they proposed 
 to do, from ;^300 to ;£■ 1,200 a year. 
 
 " All bodies corporate," says Swift, " must give 
 easy bargains, that they may depend upon receiving 
 their rents, and thereby be ready to pay all the 
 incident charges to which they are subject. . . . 
 Although my own lands, as Dean, be let for four- 
 fifths under their value, I have not raised them a 
 sixth part in twenty-three years." The alderman, 
 a few months after, replied: "As the society have 
 always had the greatest regard for your recom- 
 mendation, so in this affair they have given a fresh 
 instance of their respect; for they have resolved to 
 relieve their tenants in Coleraine from their hard 
 bargains, and to that end have put it in a way that 
 is to the entire satisfaction of the bearer." This 
 is only one instance out of many in which Swift 
 exercised his influence and authority to relieve and 
 protect the oppressed tenantry of Ireland. 
 
 No man ever wielded more terrible weapons of 
 punishment than Swift, and these he often used 
 against the Irish squires. Yet he himself declares 
 that there was one Irish landlord who was beyond 
 his power to punish. He was so ignorant and 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 
 
 273 
 
 illiterate that Swift's irony and sarcasm was as " the 
 pricking of a needle against a stone wall." The 
 forefathers of this squire, it is said, " had made them- 
 selves rith by Church lands, with the deepest sense 
 that their undertaking was of the most pious character. 
 His son set himself to ponder how to retain these lands 
 with an underlying sense of practical piety/' to whom 
 Swift wrote thus : 
 
 Sir, — . . . I took some pains in providing and advising 
 about your education ; but since you have made so ill use of my 
 rules, I cannot deny that, according to your ovm principles, your 
 usage of me is just. You are wholly out of my danger ; the 
 weapons I use will do you no hurt, and to that which would 
 keep nicer men in awe you are insensible. A needle against a 
 stone wall can make no impression. Your faculty lies in 
 making bargains ; stick to that. Leave your children a better 
 estate than your father left you ; as he left you much more 
 than your grandfather left him. Your father and you are much 
 wiser than I, who gave among you fifty years' purchase for land, 
 for which I am not to see one farthing. This was intended for en- 
 couragement to a clergyman to reside among you, whenever any 
 of your posterity shall be able to distinguish a man from a beast. 
 One thing I desire you will be set right on : I do not despise all 
 squires. It is true that I despise the bulk of them. But pray 
 take notice that a squire must have some merit before I shall 
 honour him with my contempt, for I do not despise a fly, a 
 maggot, or a mite. If you send me an answer to this, I shall 
 not read it, but open it before company, and in their presence 
 burn it, for no other reason but the detestation of bad spelling, 
 no grammar, and a pertness which proceeds from ignorance 
 and an invincible want of taste. I have ordered a copy of this 
 letter to be taken, with an intention to print it, as a mark of my 
 esteem for you ; which, however, perhaps I shall not pursue, for 
 I could willingly excuse our two names from standing in the 
 same paper, since I am confident you have as little desire 
 of fame as I have to give it you. 
 
 Another battle Swift fought was for the Irish 
 
 T 
 
274 SWIFT. 
 
 Church against the tyranny of her political con- 
 spirators. 
 
 The Irish Church owed as much to Swift's 
 
 ecclesiasticism as the Irish nation to his patriotism. 
 
 In the days of his English power and politics it was 
 
 his championship of the Irish Church that caused 
 
 him to swerve from the Whig allegiance, and helped 
 
 their overthrow. It was his influence with the Tory 
 
 Government which wrung from them the concession 
 
 to the Irish Church of the " First Fruits, etc.," which 
 
 he remitted to the clergy as the first-fruits of their 
 
 ingratitude to him. The Primate of all Ireland had 
 
 been appointed by his influence, and through his 
 
 influence Berkeley and Sterne were made bishops. 
 
 And now as ruler of Ireland he still champions the 
 
 Irish Church. It was his conviction that some of 
 
 the Low Church prelates were trimming to Walpole 
 
 and the English Whigs, and playing into the 
 
 hands of the Dissenters. He had therefore to 
 
 assail enemies within the Church as well as enemies 
 
 without. 
 
 He came down unmercifully upon the Irish bench 
 of Bishops for promoting "two abominable Bills," 
 for enslaving and beggaring the clergy, which took 
 their birth from hell. " I call God to witness," he 
 says, " that I did then, and do now, and shall for ever 
 firmly believe that every Bishop who gave his vote 
 for either of these Bills did it with no other view 
 [bating farther promotion] than a premeditated 
 design, from the spirit of ambition and love of 
 arbitrary power to make the whole body of the 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 275 
 
 clergy their slaves and vassals, until the day of 
 judgment, under the load of poverty and contempt." 
 Accordingly he resolved to have no more commerce 
 with persons of such prodigious grandeur, who, he 
 feared, in a little time would expect him to kiss their 
 slipper. 
 
 Through his powerful and indefatigable influence 
 he overthrew the Modus Bill directed against the 
 Church's influence. He also struggled to maintain 
 the Test Act, as in his opinion it was the only barrier 
 between the Church and its destruction. Of all the 
 enemies of the Church, he detested most the Non- 
 conformists. He clearly foresaw that their aim was 
 a subversion of Episcopacy, and predicted that one 
 day they would overthrow the Church altogether as 
 a national institution of Ireland. How true his 
 prognostications have proved history now tells. It 
 was a conspiracy between the Commons, and the 
 landlords to defraud the Church of the Tithe of 
 Agistment, that caused Swift to write the keenest 
 of his satires — the most demoniacal ever written 
 by man. 
 
 As I stroll the City, oft I 
 
 See a building large and lofty, 
 
 Not a bow-shot from the College, 
 
 Half the globe from sense and knowledge ; 
 
 By the prudent Architect 
 
 Placed against the Church direct, 
 
 Making good my Grandam's jest, 
 
 Near the Church — you know the rest. 
 
 Tell us what the pile contains ? 
 
 Many a head that holds no brains. 
 
276 SWIFT. 
 
 These demoniacs let me dub 
 With the name of Legion Club. 
 
 Could I from the building's top, 
 Hear the rattling thunder drop, 
 While the devil upon the roof, 
 If the devil be thunder proof, 
 Should with poker fiery -red 
 Crack the stones and melt the lead ; 
 Drive them down on every skull 
 When the den of thieves is full ; 
 Quite destroy the harpies' nest, 
 How might then our Isle be blest ! 
 Let them when they once get in 
 Sell the nation for a pin ; 
 While they sit at picking straws. 
 Let them rave at making laws ; 
 While they never hold their tongue, 
 Let them dabble in their dung. 
 
 Let them, ere they crack a louse, 
 Call for the Orders of the House ; 
 Let them .with their gosling quills 
 Scribble senseless heads of bills ; 
 We may, while they strain their throats, 
 
 Wipe our with their votes. 
 
 Let Sir Tom, that rampant ass, 
 Stuff his guts with flax and grass ; 
 But before the Priest he fleeces. 
 Tear the Bible all to pieces. 
 
 I have quoted the mildest parts. 
 
 "The force and terror about this," says Lord 
 Jeffrey, " makes us shudder at the sort of demoniacal 
 inspiration with which the malison is vented." He 
 goes on to say : " The invective of Swift appears in 
 this like the infernal fire of Milton's rebel angels 
 ' which scorch'd, and blasted, and o'erthrew.' " 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 277 
 
 It is touching to note that Swift's keenest political 
 battle was in defence of the Church that he loved so 
 well. 
 
 These, then, were the three great wrongs of 
 Ireland : The tyranny of the English Government ; 
 the tyranny of the Irish landlords against the 
 tenantry ; and the political conspiracy to overthrow 
 the Church. 
 
 Against these evils Swift protested powerfully, to 
 the terror of the English Government, the Irish 
 squires, and the Church's ecclesiastical conspirators. 
 
 It is sad to turn from Swift's public to his private 
 life. 
 
 No preferment ; no triumph ; no friend except 
 Stella, could calm the demoniacal side of his nature. 
 She could charm away the demon spirit for a time, 
 but that was never for long. Listen to his conver- 
 sations, or open his letters to Pope and Bolingbroke 
 anywhere, and it is the same wail of misery. No 
 sooner does he get the Deanery of St. Patrick's than 
 we hear him say to Harley: "Thou wilt not leave 
 my soul in hell." No sooner is his installation to 
 the Deanery over, than, refusing to receive or repay 
 the visits of the nobility and gentry, he flies away to 
 Laracor, and writes to Vanessa that he prefers the 
 earthen floor of the Vicarage, and the camp bed, 
 "to the great Deanery House which they say is 
 mine." Pope writes to congratulate him, and says: 
 " I look upon a friend in Ireland as upon a friend in 
 the other world, whom, properly speaking, I believe 
 constantly well-disposed towards me, and ready to do 
 
278 SWIFT. 
 
 me all the good he can in that state of separation, 
 though I hear nothing from him, and make addresses 
 to him very rarely. A Protestant divine cannot take it 
 amiss that I treat him in the same manner with my 
 patron saint." Listen to Swift's reply : " You are an 
 ill Catholic, or a worse geographer, for I can assure 
 you Ireland is not Paradise; and I appeal even to 
 any Spanish divine whether addresses were ever 
 made to a friend in Hell or Purgatory?" 
 
 The very name of the country for which he had 
 done so much was detestable to him. He despised 
 the people among whom he lived. He hated the 
 English because they were the embodiment of 
 tyrannical power ; he hated the Irish because they 
 were weak and submissive vassals, and without a 
 spirit of independence. He detested the tyrannical 
 actions of the one, and the mean actions of the other, 
 " I am sitting," he writes to Bolingbroke, " like a 
 toad, in the corner of my great house, with a perfect 
 hatred of all public actions and persons." One day, 
 in a fury, he asked a friend of Delany's : " Do not 
 the corruptions and villainies of men in power cat 
 your flesh and exhaust your spirits .' " 
 
 To escape from himself and from the worship 
 of Ireland, in which, to his clear vision, the gratitude 
 to himself was mingled with ignorance, superstition, 
 and want of independence, he fled to Quilca, and 
 betook himself to literature. 
 
 Quilca was the residence of his friend. Dr. 
 Sheridan, of whom it has been said that "he was 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 279 
 
 by profession a clergyman, by occupation a school- 
 master." He was a famous scholar, fiddler, quibbler, 
 punster, and rhymester, whose verses were not always 
 of the cleanest. He had made Swift's acquaintance- 
 ship in Dublin shortly after his installatioi) as Dean 
 of St. Patrick's. Sheridan was then master of a 
 famous school in Dublin, which, through Swift's 
 patronage, soon became the largest and most flourish- 
 ing in the kingdom. Sheridan's income from it was 
 ;^i,20o a year. There was a strong affinity between 
 Dean Swift and Dr. Sheridan; indeed, he might 
 have been called Swift's " Sherry," as his son Tom 
 was called Johnson's " Sherry." The first time that 
 Sheridan met Swift at dinner in the Deanery, when 
 the company broke up at night, Swift, in his usual 
 ironical way, said, " I invite all here present to dine 
 with me next Thursday, except Mr. Sheridan," but 
 with a look which expressed that the invitation was 
 made wholly on his account. This friendship was 
 cemented by Stella, who gave the Doctor the 
 preference to all the Dean's other friends. Swift's 
 acquaintanceship in Ireland was principally among 
 men high in rank, to whose preferment he had himself 
 contributed in his days of power, such as the Primate, 
 the Archbishop of Dublin, the Lord Chancellor, 
 Bishop Sterne, etc. 
 
 Sheridan, who had little or no access to that 
 circle, introduced Swift to his own, which included 
 brilliant scholars and men of wit, among whom Swift 
 could be free and easy, and sportive when in the 
 mood. In this society for years Swift spent most of 
 
28o SWIFT. 
 
 his leisure hours. Sheridan studied Swift's moods 
 and understood him thoroughly. 
 
 During Sheridan's vacation a room was set 
 apart for him at the Deanery, called Sheridan's 
 chamber, where the Dean and he studied classics 
 together. 
 
 They soon became to each other like hand and 
 glove. In all invitations to the Dean, Sheridan was 
 included. To see Swift at his best, you had to see 
 him with Sheridan. He acted as a Boswell to Swift, 
 without taking notes, which if he had dared to do, 
 woe betide him. Unlike Johnson, Swift loved to 
 live a life by stealth. The Dean felt that Sheridan 
 belonged to him. Swift took him under his protec- 
 tion, and treated him as Johnson treated Goldsmith, 
 who would allow no one else in his presence either to 
 praise or to blame him. 
 
 Although Swift loved Sheridan, he hated Sheri- 
 dan's wife. He calls her "the most disagreeable 
 beast in Europe, a most filthy slut, lazy and slothful, 
 luxurious, ill-natured, envious, suspicious — who hen- 
 pecked her husband," and of whom he wrote the 
 stinging satire beginning thus : 
 
 His darling wife of him bereft, 
 
 Is only grieved there's nothing left. 
 
 Sheridan, repaid Swift's kindness to him by a love 
 strong as death ; he knew when to speak and when 
 to be silent in the presence of Swift, and how to 
 humour him; he "was as Jonathan's right hand." 
 Such was Sheridan, to whose house at Quilca he 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 281 
 
 retired for a time to rest from the fickle applause 
 of the Irish nation, and to finish and polish his 
 " Gulliver," which was to give him enduring fame. 
 
 For years Swift's illustrious literary and political 
 friends in England had been plying him with invita- 
 tions to visit them, and such invitations as any man 
 might justly be proud of. Arbuthnot writes : 
 
 The hope of seeing once more the Dean of St. Patrick's 
 revives my spirits. I cannot help imagining some of our old 
 chiefs met together like mariners after a storm. For God's 
 sake, do not tantalise your friends any more. I can prove by 
 twenty unanswerable reasons that it is absolutely necessary 
 that you should come over to England. I believe, indeed, it is 
 just possible to save your soul without it, and that is all. I 
 have only one fear, that when you come over you will be so 
 much coveted and taken up by the Ministry, that unless your 
 friends meet you at their tables they will have none of your 
 company. This is really no joke ; I am quite in earnest. Your 
 deafness is so necessary a thing that I almost begin to think it 
 an affectation. I remember you used to reckon dinners ; I know 
 already half a year's dinners where you are already bespoke. 
 
 At last Swift yielded, and in the spring of 1726 
 he crossed the Channel to visit his English friends. 
 He took up his residence at Twickenham Villa with 
 Pope, and Gay, and Arbuthnot. What a company ! 
 Swift, the greatest wit of all time ; Pope, the greatest 
 satirist ; Arbuthnot, the greatest humorist ; and Gay, 
 the greatest laugher. 
 
 From the banks of the Severn, in July, 1726, 
 Lord Bolingbroke writes "to the three Yahoos of 
 Twickenham," as he calls them, and ends his letter 
 thus : " Adieu, Jonathan,* Alexander,t John,t mirth 
 be with you." 
 
 * Swift. + Pope. X Gay. 
 
282 SWIFT. 
 
 From this villa Swift went to dine with the 
 Premier, Sir Robert Walpole. The Primate of all 
 Ireland had written to acquaint Walpole that the 
 Dean of St. Patrick, the most dangerous political 
 agitator in the three kingdoms, was about to visit 
 England, and warned Walpole "to keep a watchful 
 eye over him." This is the way in which the Premier 
 watched the dangerous Dean — he invited him to 
 dinner. I wish that Swift had treated this invitation 
 as his friend Pope once treated a Royal invitation. 
 
 To Martha Blunt he writes that he " had the 
 honour of being invited to Court, but the grace to 
 stay away." 
 
 At the dinner-table a remark of Swift's was 
 cruelly, I shall not say wilfully, misconstrued, and 
 re-echoed afterwards by the Whigs in such a way as 
 did much to damage his political consistency. To 
 understand the purport of the remark which Swift 
 made, it is necessary to know that shortly before 
 this*a bitter libel had appeared against the Premier, 
 which he erroneously attributed to Gay. 
 
 Through this suspicion. Gay had lost the friend- 
 ship of Walpole and the favour of the Queen. The 
 Premier, however, had recently received information 
 which satisfied him that he had been mistaken 
 in his surmise, and that poor Gay was in no way to 
 blame. 
 
 In allusion, therefore, to this episode of Gay's, 
 Swift took occasion to remark at the Premier's 
 dinner-table, that "when great Ministers heard an 
 ill thing of a private person who expected some 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 283 
 
 favour, although they were afterwards convinced that 
 the person was innocent, yet they would never be 
 reconciled." As the word Gay was not mentioned, 
 it is possible that the observation may have appeared 
 ambiguous to some of the guests at table who had 
 not heard of Gay's misadventure ; but there can be 
 no doubt that Walpole distinctly understood the 
 remark to have reference to Gay, and not to Swift 
 himself; yet he affected to understand that the 
 observation referred to Swift, and was mean enough 
 to circulate the report that Swift had apologised to 
 him with the view of currying favour at Court. 
 Even granting that the Premier had misapprehended 
 Swift's remark, he was speedily undeceived at their 
 next meeting. As it was impossible to discuss the 
 affairs of Ireland in the presence of guests at a 
 dinner-table, Swift asked and obtained a private 
 interview with the Premier. It has been alleged 
 that at this interview Swift sold himself to the Court, 
 and the price of his apostasy was to be high ecclesi- 
 astical preferment. This is a heavy indictment, but 
 what are the facts .'' 
 
 The first point that tells in Swift's favour is the 
 alacrity and graciousness of Walpole in granting the 
 interview. He sent a message through Peterborough 
 to Swift that he would be glad to receive him any 
 morning, except on Tuesday or Thursday, his two 
 public days. 
 
 This, I contend, goes far to show that Walpole 
 could hardly have anticipated that Swift at this 
 interview with him would cry " peccavi/' and sell 
 
284 SWIFT. 
 
 himself for ecclesiastical preferment. Prime Ministers 
 do not, I presume, generally allow apostates and 
 place - hunters to fix for themselves the day and 
 hour of interview with them. 
 
 Be it remembered, also, that there were only two 
 present at this interview, which has now become 
 famous and historic. We must, therefore, receive 
 with caution a report of an interview where no third 
 party was present. 
 
 There can be no manner of doubt that at this 
 interview Walpole frankly stated his views as to the 
 relation between England and Ireland ; that these 
 opinions differed so diametrically from Swift's that 
 he saw that argument was utterly futile, and said 
 less than he intended ; and that the two parted, if 
 not in anger, at least not in friendship. This much 
 appears in the document Swift drew up, containing 
 a statement of what took place at the interview, 
 which he forwarded to Walpole for his approval. 
 
 As to what is alleged to have occurred at another 
 stage of this interview, there is at once interest and 
 mystery. The Whig leaders alleged that Swift 
 offered to sell himself to Walpole for high ecclesi- 
 astical preferment, which the Premier declined. 
 
 The Tory leaders alleged that Walpole attempted 
 to bribe Swift by the offer of high ecclesiastical pre- 
 ferinent, which Swift indignantly refused. Both are 
 conjectures, but which is the more probable ? That 
 depends much on the respective characters of the two 
 interviewers. Swift's character during the whole of 
 his political career stands high as a statesman who 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 285 
 
 detested bribery in any shape or form. Through life 
 he preferred principle to expediency. We know 
 for fact that it was his Church principles that pre- 
 vented him rising and sitting down a mitred peer in 
 Parliament. 
 
 Swift, in his days of poverty, refused Harley's 
 bribe, and declared that on principle he could not be 
 a writer in any man's hire. He also rejected Boling- 
 broke's dazzling offers of high preferment during his 
 ephemeral Premiership, because he could not con- 
 sistently support his policy. Such was Swift 
 concerning bribes. 
 
 What was Walpole's character as to this ">. It is 
 notorious that he was the most inveterate briber 
 of any Prime Minister that ever held the helm of 
 State. He made no secret of it. He boldly declared 
 that he had to bribe as a matter of high expediency, 
 and that in all his political experience he had yet 
 never known a man to refuse a bribe in gold, nor 
 women either, except one, and she took diamonds. 
 
 Such were the characters of the two men who 
 alone were present at the interview. It is highly 
 probable, therefore, that Walpole offered preferment 
 to Swift on certain implied conditions which he 
 declined. This view is borne out by two passages in 
 Swift's correspondence. " I have had/' he writes to 
 Sheridan, " the fairest offer made me of a settlement 
 here that one can imagine, within twelve miles of 
 London, and in the midst of my friends ; but I am 
 too old for new schemes, and especially such as 
 would bridle me in my freedom." 
 
286 SWIFT. 
 
 Again to Stopford he writes regarding the Bishop- 
 ric of Cloyne, that it was not. offered to him, and 
 would not have been accepted by him " except under 
 conditions which would never have been granted." 
 
 When Swift left Walpole that morning, he felt 
 that all friendly relations between Walpole and 
 himself had ceased. To Stopford he writes : " I 
 absolutely broke with the First Minister." Not so 
 thought Walpole. That wily statesman once more 
 renews overtures to Swift through Pope. Shortly 
 after Swift had returned to Ireland, Pope writes to 
 him that Walpole had an interview with him, and 
 expressed regret that he had not seen Swift again 
 before he left -for Ireland, and hints at a possible 
 translation to England. Impossible ! Swift had now 
 entered into negotiations with Pulteney, Walpole's 
 implacable enemy. This at least disposes of Lord 
 Chesterfield's false and silly statement which he made 
 when Lord Lieutenant of Ireland to Dr. Clark, " that 
 Swift made an offer of his pen to Sir Robert Walpole ; 
 that the terms were his getting a preferment in 
 England; and that Sir Robert rejected the offer," 
 which Lord Chesterfield said " he would not have 
 done had he been in Sir Robert's place ! " What 
 is the conclusion of the whole matter ? The inference 
 undoubtedly is that the Premier, well aware that it 
 had been the dream of Swift's life to obtain prefer- 
 ment in England, where years before he had formed 
 his friendships and left his heart, resolved to turn 
 that dream to account. 
 
 Accordingly the accomplished briber, in the most 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 287 
 
 delicate manner — for Walpole knew his man too well 
 to presume to do it in any other way — offered Swift 
 the living near London, hinting, probably, that other 
 and higher preferment would be his if deserved. 
 
 Swift, on high principle, rejects the offer, feeling, 
 as he writes to Sheridan, " that it would bridle him 
 in his freedom." * 
 
 Whether this conjecture is not almost as conclu- 
 sive as certainty, I leave to the judgment of my 
 readers to determine. 
 
 From this villa Swift also went to visit the 
 Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline. Her 
 E-oyal Highness affected to be a literary lady, and 
 set up for a patroness of men of genius, men of wit, 
 and men of literature. Hearing of Swift's arrival in 
 London, she immediately sent him an invitation to 
 visit her. Of this Swift gives the following account 
 to Lady Betty Germain in 1732 : 
 
 " Her present Majesty heard of my arrival, and 
 sent at least nine times to command my attendance 
 before I would obey her, for several reasons not hard 
 to guess, and among others, because I had heard her 
 character from those that knew her well. At last I 
 went, and she received me very graciously." 
 
 Swift was tio sooner ushered into the Royal 
 presence than he exclaimed : 
 
 "Your Royal Highness sent last year to see a 
 wild boy from Germany, and now you have sent to 
 see a wild dean from Ireland." 
 
 * Sheridan's "Life of Swift," p. 258. 
 
288 SWIFT. 
 
 The Princess received the remark good-naturedly^ 
 and laughed heartily. 
 
 Swift, although no respecter of persons, could be 
 the most polished courtier when he chose. The 
 Princess, struck with his originality and genius, 
 charmed with his conversational power, and fasci- 
 nated with his courtly manners, was never weary of 
 sending for him. 
 
 Swift, to keep up his dignity and importance, 
 never once went to visit her without being specially 
 invited. Her Royal Highness told Arbuthnot, the 
 Court Physician, that she valued the Dean for his 
 wit, genius, and originality. 
 
 "And I value him," replied Arbuthnot, "for his 
 truth and honesty, and manly independence of boldly 
 speaking his mind when others are afraid to speak." 
 
 During- his residence- at Twickenham, in July, 
 1726, he heard distressing news from Ireland of 
 Stella's illness, which overwhelmed him with grief. 
 Swift behaved characteristically. " Pray write to me 
 every week," he says in a letter to Warrel, " that I 
 may know what steps to take, for I am determined 
 not to go to Ireland to find her just dead or dying. 
 I am of opinion that there is not a greater folly than 
 to contract too great and intimate a friendship, 
 which must always leave the survivor miserable. 
 Let her know, however, that I have bought her a 
 gold repeating watch, that she may see how my 
 thoughts are always to make her easy." Dr. Sheridan 
 had also written him that Stella seemed to be at the 
 point of death. 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 289 
 
 Swift replies : " I look upon this to be the 
 greatest event that can ever happen to me ; but all 
 my preparations will not suffice to make me bear it 
 like a philosopher nor altogether like a Christian. 
 . . . Nay, if I were now near her^ I would not see 
 her ; I could not behave myself tolerably, and should 
 redouble her sorrow. Judge in what a temper of 
 mind I write this. The very time I am writing, I 
 conclude the fairest soul in the world has left its 
 body. ... I have been long weary of the world, and 
 shall for my small remainder of years be weary of 
 life, having for ever lost that conversation which 
 could only make it tolerable. I fear while you 
 are reading this you will be shedding tears at her 
 funeral." 
 
 They were all mistaken. The blow was not yet 
 to fall. Swift at last resolved to take his departure 
 for Ireland. Accordingly he went to take leave of 
 Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, who at 
 parting promised to send him some medals at 
 Christmas, and he promised to send her some silk 
 plaids from Ireland. 
 
 On Swift's return to Dublin he found the city 
 of his birth en fite to welcome him. His ship was 
 signalled in the Bay, The Corporation, the gentry, 
 and the leading citizens went out in wherries to the 
 ship to welcome him. The harbour was gay with 
 bunting ; the bells were rung ; bonfires were kindled, 
 and processions formed to escort the Irish patriot to 
 his home. It was like the reception of a sovereign 
 prince or conquering hero. What a contrast to the 
 
 u 
 
29° SWIFT. 
 
 reception he received on his last arrival from England 
 to take possession of St. Patrick's Deanery! Then 
 he was received with mockery and insult ; now he is 
 received with reverence and adoration. Such is life. 
 To-day, the nation's idol ; to-morrow, its execration. 
 
 Three months after his arrival from England he 
 published " Gulliver," destined to give him immor- 
 tality. I shall not presume to criticise it; that 
 would be a waste of time, and a literary impertinence. 
 Every biographer of Swift has criticised " Gulliver " 
 from every angle of light. Cui bono ? They might 
 almost have spared themselves the trouble ; the 
 book is far beyond the power of nineteenth century 
 criticism, either of praise or blame. Literary experts 
 of all nations have long ago sat in judgment on 
 " Gulliver," and their verdict has been signed, and 
 sealed, and ratified by succeeding generations, and 
 is unalterable. The verdict is that " Gulliver " is 
 "a world book." 
 
 There is one passage in it, however, which has 
 not been specially noticed by any of Swift's bio- 
 graphers. My attention was directed to it some 
 years ago by an account which I read of a dinner- 
 party given by the late Mr. Canning at Gloucester 
 Lodge. The American Ambassador, who was present, 
 tells us that after dinner the guests retired to the 
 library. The topic changing. Swift came on the 
 tapis. Several of his pieces were called up with 
 genuine gusto. Mr, Canning was on a sofa. Planta 
 
 said Mr. C had down the volume containing the 
 
 voyages, and read the description of the storm on the 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 291 
 
 voyage to Brobdingnag. Seamen say it's capital, 
 and as true nautically as Shakespeare is when he 
 undertakes to use sea terms. Mr. Planta took down 
 the volume, and read the passage. One sentence in 
 it runs thus : " It was a very fierce storm, the sea 
 broke strange and dangerous. We hauled off upon 
 the lanyard of the whip-staff, and helped the man 
 at the helm." " When he was done," says the 
 Ambassador, " all admired the passage under the 
 new view and commendation of it which Mr. Canning 
 had given us. He himself said nothing for a few 
 moments, but sat silent. Then, as if in reverie, he 
 uttered in a low tone, yet very distinctly, the words : 
 'And helped the man at the helm, and helped the 
 man at the helm,' repeating them. It seemed as if 
 the helm of the Foreign Office, with all its anxieties, 
 had suddenly shot into his mind, clouding for a 
 moment his social ease. His familiar friends of the 
 circle bantered him a little on the fancy. He de- 
 clared off, and only said it was a fine passage." 
 
 After reading this narrative, I examined the 
 passage, which I had not read since my student 
 days. Being chaplain of a famous yachting club, 
 and having had less or more experience in yachting 
 for many years, I was puzzled to understand how 
 Swift could possibly know, and apply so accurately, 
 nautical terms. I was suspicious of this, as I have 
 long been of Shakespeare's accuracy In geography; but 
 where or how Swift had got help there was nothing to 
 show- Recently, however, being in the Advocate's 
 Library, at Edinburgh, in search of documents 
 
 u 2 
 
292 
 
 SWIFT. 
 
 bearing on the life of Swift, accidentally I discovered 
 an able article on Swift in The Quarterly Review. 
 The writer informs us that, accidentally, in the 
 British Museum, from a slip in a scrap-book, he 
 found that this identical passage had been taken 
 by Swift, nearly verbatim, from Samuel Sturmy's 
 Mariner's Magazine, published at London, in 1679. 
 The original passage and the copy are given below in 
 parallel columns: 
 
 Swift. 
 ("Gulliver," pp. 108, 109.) 
 
 Finding it was likely to over- 
 blow, we took in our spritsail 
 and stood by to hand the fore- 
 sail ; but making foul weather, 
 we looked the guns were all 
 fast and handed the mizen. 
 
 The ship lay very broad off, 
 so we thought it better spoon- 
 ing before the sea than trying 
 or hulling. 
 
 We reefed the foresail and 
 set him, and hauled aft the 
 foresheet ; the helm was hard 
 a-weather. 
 
 We belayed the fore down 
 haul, but the sail was split, 
 and we hauled down the yard 
 and got the sail into the ship, 
 and unbound all the things 
 clear of it. 
 
 It was a very fierce storm, 
 the sea broke strange and 
 dangerous. 
 
 Sturmy. 
 (Mariner's Magazine, pp. i;, 
 
 16, 1684.) 
 It is like to overblow ; take 
 in your spritsail, stand by to 
 hand the foresail. . . . We 
 make foul weather ; look the 
 guns be all fast ; come, hand 
 the mizen. 
 
 The ship lies very broad 
 
 off; it i^ hpttf^r qnnnnmor Tiia- 
 
 aiii^ lies vciy uiudu 
 
 ott ; It is better spooning be- 
 fore the sea than trying "■ 
 hulling. 
 
 or 
 
 Go reef the foresail and set 
 him ; haul aft the foresheet. 
 The helm is hard a-weather. 
 
 Belay the fore down haul. 
 The sail is split ; go haul down 
 the yard and get the sail into 
 the ship, and unbind all things 
 clear of it. 
 
 A very fierce storm. The sea 
 breaks strange and dangerous. 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 
 
 293 
 
 We hauled oflF upon the lan- 
 yard of the whip-staff and 
 helped the man at the helm. 
 
 We would not get down our 
 topmast, but let all stand, be- 
 cause she scudded before the 
 sea very well, and we knew 
 that the topmast being aloft 
 the ship was the wholesomer 
 and made better way through 
 the sea, seeing we had sea 
 room. 
 
 We got the starboard tacks 
 aboard ; we cast off the weather 
 bowlings, weather braces and 
 lifts ; we set in the lee braces 
 and hauled them tight and 
 belayed them, and hauled over 
 the mizen, and hauled forward 
 by tack to windward, and kept 
 her full and by as near as she 
 would lie. 
 
 Stand by to haul off above 
 the lanyard of the whip-staff 
 and help the man at the helm. 
 
 Shall we get down our top- 
 masts? No, let all stand; 
 she scuds before the sea very 
 well ; th e topmast being aloft, 
 the ship is the wholesomest 
 and maketh better way through 
 the sea, seeing we have sea 
 room. 
 
 Get the starboard tacks 
 aboard, cast off our weather 
 braces and lifts ; set in the lee 
 braces and haul them taut and 
 belay them, and haul over the 
 mizen tacks to windward, and 
 keep her full and by as near 
 as she would lie. 
 
 It is not a little curious that none of Swift's 
 critical biographers, Johnson, Jeffrey, or Macaulay, 
 the three famous literary detectives of pilfered 
 articles, should have discovered this, and that we 
 should be indebted for the discovery probably to 
 some unknown naval student, who, in his preparation 
 to pass into the Royal or merchant navy, knowing 
 nothing of " Gulliver," but attracted by the charming 
 nautical description, left his mark of admiration 
 there. 
 
 To say, however, that " Gulliver " is not original 
 because Swift borrowed these hints from Sturmy, 
 would be as absurd as to say that " Sartor Resartus " 
 
294 SIVIFT. 
 
 is not original because Carlyle borrowed hints from 
 Swift's " Tale of a Tub." Creative geniuses in all 
 ages of the world's history have borrowed from one 
 another. Shakespeare, in his Antony and Cleopatra, 
 borrowed from North's " Plutarch/' and got hints for 
 his Macbeth from Holinshed. Pope borrowed with- 
 out the slightest scruple. As I pointed out in my 
 " Characteristics of Johnson," Dickens, in his " Old 
 Curiosity Shop," borrowed from the " Rambler," 
 as did Macaulay from the " Lives of the Poets." 
 Johnson borrowed from Pope, and Pope from Quin- 
 tilian. I do not pretend to be immaculate as to 
 this myself. It is just possible that I may have 
 unconsciously appropriated now and again the phra- 
 seology of others. In gathering together a con- 
 glomerate mass of material for a biography, it is 
 difficult to avoid this ; but if I have done so, this I 
 will say, that it has been unknowingly. 
 
 Johnson ends his life of Swift in these words : 
 "It has been said that Swift never borrowed from 
 any other writer. This is not strictly accua^te ; but 
 it would be difficult to name another writer tha,t ever 
 borrowed less." These words are true. Swift is, 
 perhaps, the most original writer that ever lived. 
 
 The question has been asked, why did Swift write 
 such a book ? No definite reply has yet been given. 
 I answer. Swift wrote it to drown his cares and to 
 please himself by vexing the world. 
 
 Thackeray, posing as a philanthropist, lustily 
 abuses Swift because in " Gulliver" he has compared 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 295 
 
 degraded human nature with Yahoos. " As for the 
 moral, I think it is horrible, shameful, unmanly, 
 blasphemous ; and giant and great as this Dean is, I 
 say we should hoot him." Had Mr. Thackeray been 
 conversant with the brutal times in which Swift lived 
 and wrote, or even with the times in which he himself 
 lived, it might have modified the severity of his 
 judgment. Had Mr. Thackeray never heard of the 
 Burkers of his time ? — murderers for the sake of body 
 selling. Even within the last few months has not all 
 Europe been paralysed with horror at the atrocious 
 crimes committed in the very centre of civilisation i 
 To compare such monsters in human shape with the 
 inferior animals is a libel on the brute creation ; yet 
 Thackeray is greatly shocked at Swift for comparing 
 such specimens of humanity to Yahoos. 
 
 This morbid, sentimental, maudlin philanthropy is 
 almost becoming a nuisance in this age. 
 
 Meantime, with the pleasing anticipation of again 
 visiting England next spring. Swift is keeping up a 
 brisk correspondence with his literary friends. Pope, 
 and Gay, and Arbuthnot, and his political friends, 
 Bolingbroke, and Pulteney, and Peterborough, and 
 with his Court friends, Mrs. Howard, with an occa- 
 sional message to her Royal mistress. From the 
 following paragraph, in a letter which he sent to the 
 Royal favourite before he started for England, we 
 can judge of Swift's familiarity with the Princess : 
 " I desire you will order Her Royal Highness to go 
 to Richmond as soon as she can this summer, be- 
 
296 SWIFT. 
 
 cause she will have the pleasure of my neighbour- 
 hood ; for I hope to be in London by the middle of 
 March, and I do not love you much when you are 
 there." That is, she was too near Walpole, his 
 implacable foe. Accordingly, on his arrival in 
 London, he never saw the Princess till she removed 
 to Richmond, of which he writes to Sheridan, May 
 1 3th : " I have at last seen the Princess, twice this 
 week, by her own command. She retains her old 
 civility, and I my old freedom." 
 
 On his arrival in London, many different sets 
 struggled to obtain his society. Pope was con- 
 tinually drawing upon him for suggestions to " The 
 Dunciad." It was the same with Gay regarding the 
 Beggar's Opera, to which Swift contributed two songs. 
 Bolingbroke and Pulteney badgered him for his 
 assistance to overwhelm Walpole and his Govern- 
 ment at the death of old George, which they foresaw 
 could not be long. Peterborough and Harcourt 
 wearied him in their attempt to patch up a recon- 
 ciliation between himself and Walpole, while the 
 Princess plied him with frequent invitations, and 
 commanded him to attend upon her. Strange rest, 
 this, for an invalid, who had made London his 
 halting-place on his way thither to drink the bitter 
 waters of Aix-la-Chapelle. 
 
 Poor Swift found bitter enough waters to" drink 
 in London without going to France. His unsocial 
 deafness and giddiness returned with redoubled 
 energy. 
 
 Then George L died suddenly and unexpectedly. 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 297 
 
 His death plunged the social and political world 
 of London into great excitement. At midnight, after 
 the King diedj Walpole hurried along to Leicester 
 House, and asked an audience of His Royal Highness 
 the Prince of Wales. It was refused. The Prince 
 desired him to send in his business. 
 
 Accordingly, through a messenger, Walpole in- 
 formed the Prince that he had come to announce 
 to His Royal Highness that he was now King 
 George H., and waiting His Majesty's commands. 
 The Royal messenger brought back for answer: 
 " His Majesty's command is that you send here 
 instantly Sir Spencer Compton." 
 
 The King's refusal to see Sir Robert was doubtless 
 caused through the influence of the Queen. Walpole 
 had greatly offended* her when she was Princess of 
 Wales by an indecent remark, which, in his coarse 
 way, he had made to a courtier, and which Her 
 Royal Highness declared she would never forgive. 
 
 Walpole, crestfallen, hurried along to Sir Spencer 
 with the Royal message, and eagerly asked his pro- 
 tection, which was at once granted. When this 
 story had got abroad, the titled slaves deserted the 
 residence of Walpole, and crowded to do cringing 
 court at Sir Spencer's lev^e. Well might Swift say, 
 " Men now worship the rising, not the setting sun." 
 
 At this crisis Bolingbroke and Pulteney were 
 flushed with hope, but to the clearer vision of Swift 
 
 * Sir Robert Walpole used often to talk indecently at his 
 dinner-table, with the apology that it was the only kind of 
 conversation in which nZ/his guests could join. 
 
298 SWIFT. 
 
 it was infinitesimally small. That clear-headed 
 thinker wrote to Sheridan : " Here are a thousand 
 schemes wherein they would have me engaged, which 
 I embrace but coldly, because I like none of them." 
 He even hesitated whether he should suspend his 
 journey to the South of France, but was prevailed 
 upon by his friends to remain in England. " There 
 would not," writes Bolingbroke, "be common sense 
 in your going to France at this juncture. . . . Much 
 less ought you to think of such an unmeaning 
 journey when the opportunity of quitting Ireland 
 for England is, I believe, fairly before you." 
 
 Mrs. Howard's counsel to Swift was by all means 
 not to go, as it would look singular, and perhaps 
 disaffected. Accordingly he remained, and, with a 
 dozen of his Tory friends, went and kissed the hand 
 of the new King and Queen on their accession, and 
 was on this occasion particularly distinguished by 
 Her Majesty. 
 
 Swift, however, was too wise and experienced a 
 statesman, and knew too well the resources of 
 Walpole's* tactics, and the beating of the nation's 
 pulse, to place much confidence in the brilliant 
 anticipation of his younger Tory friends. Nor was 
 he mistaken. Sir Spencer Compton's triumph was 
 not for long. His premiership was ephemeral. The 
 Queen had desired him to fix her pensibn, in the 
 event of her Royal spouse predeceasing her, at 
 ;^ioo,oooper annum. Compton replied that;^6o,ooo 
 was as much as the nation could bear. Walpole, the 
 accomplished briber, heard of this, and took ways 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 299 
 
 and means — so the story goes — to whisper into the 
 ears of his Royal mistress that, were he Premier^ he 
 would undertake to secure to her the settlement she 
 demanded. The Queen instantly replied by quoting 
 to Walpole's confidante the language which the late 
 Premier had used regarding her when Princess of 
 Wales : " Go," said Her Majesty, " and tell Sir 
 Robert that the fat A— B — forgives him."* 
 
 Shortly afterwards, through the Queen^s well- 
 known ascendency over the King, Sir Spencer 
 Compton is dismissed as incapable to a seat in the 
 House of Lords, with the title of Earl Wilmington, 
 and Sir Robert reinstated as firm as ever in his old 
 seat as Premier. 
 
 All power is now concentrated in the hands of 
 Walpole and the Queen. Had the Tories got into 
 power at this time. Swift had died an English 
 bishop and not an Irish dean ; but that was not to 
 be, nor did he now greatly care. His infirmities were 
 gathering around him. Those whom he had wished 
 to please were either in their grave or near it. About 
 this time his old enemies, worse than political deaf- 
 ness and vertigo, attacked him with overwhelming 
 power. To crown all, he receives crushing news 
 from Ireland that Stella was at the pomt of death. 
 Swift's cup of sorrow was now full. Overwhelmed 
 with grief one day, on pretence of urgent business, he 
 suddenly stole away from Twickenham to London, 
 and with a disordered head and a sad heart, buried 
 himself in lodgings there. 
 
 * Sheridan's " Life of Swift," p. 266. 
 
300 SWIFT. 
 
 It has been hinted that Swift must have dis- 
 covered something in Pope not quite to his liking 
 that caused his abrupt departure. Unrighteous judg- 
 ment ! Pope had done his best to entertain his illus- 
 trious guest, to cheer his heart, to soothe his feelings, 
 and lighten his burden. They had lingered iri the 
 Grotto together, talking about future literary ven- 
 tures ; they had strolled in Lord Bathurst's woods 
 together, talking about that jumble of " Miscellanies," 
 the conjoint labour of them both, which Pope had 
 given to the world, and by which he fondly predicted 
 that Swift and he would walk hand in hand together 
 down the ages. The cause of Swift's precipitate 
 flight was agony of grief, which his sensitive nature 
 could not bear a friend to witness. 
 
 From his London lodgings he sent to his Irish 
 friends some of the most pathetic letters that were 
 ever written by man. The day before he left Twicken- 
 ham he writes to Sheridan : 
 
 I have had your letter of the 19th, and expect before you 
 read this to receive another from you with the most fatal news 
 that can ever come to me. I continue very ill, and I shall be 
 perfectly content if God shall please to call me away at this 
 time. Here is a triple cord of friendship broken which hath 
 lasted thirty years, twenty-four of which in Ireland. I beg, if 
 you have not written to me before you get this, to tell me no 
 particulars but the event in general ; my weakness, my age, my 
 friendship, will bear no more. 
 
 The day after he arrives in London he writes to 
 
 Sheridan again : 
 
 I have just received yours of August 24th. I' kept it an hour 
 in my pocket with all the suspense of a man who expected to 
 hear the worst news that fortune could give. These are the 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 301 
 
 perquisites of living long ; the last act of life is always a 
 tragedy at best ; but it is a bitter aggravation to have one's 
 best friends go before one. ... I do profess, upon my salva- 
 tion, that the distressed and desperate state of our friend makes^ 
 life so indifferent to me, that I do not think it worth the time to 
 struggle. ... To what advantage ? Why, to see the loss of 
 that person, for whose sake only life was worth preserving. . . , 
 What have I to do in the world ? I am able to hold up my 
 sorry head no longer. 
 
 It would appear from the following note that 
 immediately after Swift's sudden departure from 
 Twickenham to London, Pope and Arbuthnot had 
 tracked his steps and traced him to his London lair. 
 
 Pope writes to Sheridan : 
 
 Upon pretence of some very unavoidable occasions he went 
 to London four days ago, where I see him as often as he will let 
 me. . . . His physician and friend. Dr. Arbuthnot, assures me 
 he will soon be well. ... I will not leave him a day until I see 
 him better. 
 
 After Swift's illness had abated, he gathered 
 together his belongings to take his departure for 
 Ireland. Just as he was on the eve of starting, he 
 received from Mrs. Howard, the King's mistress and 
 the Queen's favourite, the following note: "I insist 
 upon your taking no resolution to leave England till 
 I see you, which must be here, for the most dis- 
 agreeable reason in the world, and the most shocking:. 
 I dare not go to you. Believe nobody who talks to 
 you of the Queen, without you are sure the person 
 likes both the Queen and you." This appeal was quite 
 in vain. Nothing would induce him to stay. He 
 clearly foresaw that so long as Walpole was at the 
 helm of State, hope there was none, either for himself 
 
302 SWIFT. 
 
 or Ireland. He had therefore resolved to have done 
 with England and English politics for ever. Before 
 his departure he took leave of the Queen in a polite 
 note to Mrs. Howard, apologising for not doing so in 
 person in the following passage : " I am infinitely 
 obliged to you for all your civilities, and shall retain 
 the remembrance of them during my life. I hope you 
 will favour me so far as to present my most humble 
 duty to the Queen, and to describe to Her Majesty 
 my sorrow that my disorder was of such a kind as to 
 make me incapable of attending her, as she was 
 pleased to permit me. I shall pass the remainder of 
 my life with the utmost gratitude for Her Majesty's 
 favours." 
 
 Swift now leaves England for ever. 
 
 He takes his departure for what he called " miser- 
 able Dublin, in wretched Ireland." 
 
 Strange enough, on his journey home he recovered 
 his hearing. Pope and Gay, who had been watching 
 every stage of his homeward journey with anxious 
 hearts and sad, no sooner heard of this, than they 
 wrote him a conjoint letter, in which they con- 
 gratulated him, adding jocularly : " No doubt your 
 ears knew well there was nothing worth hearing in 
 England." 
 
 Swift reached Holyhead just in time to be too 
 late for the packet, which had left for Dublin a few 
 hours before his arrival. Here, in a little smoky 
 room, he had for a week to possess his soul in 
 patience, the shipmaster waiting for better weather 
 and a better supply of pa.ssengers. What a contrast 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 303 
 
 this little room must have appeared to him from 
 the luxurious study of Twickenham. 
 
 Pope and Gay, in their conjoint letter, inform 
 Swift that " the maid of the house writes us word 
 that, while you were there, you were busy for ten 
 days together writing continually. ... By a scrap 
 of paper left in this smoky room, it seemed as if the 
 book you were writing was a most lamentable account 
 of your travels." Through the diligence of Dr. Craik, 
 an old class-fellow of my own, one of the most 
 accomplished Greek scholars of the age, is the world 
 of letters indebted for the discovery of this little 
 book, which is one of the most interesting and 
 important contributions to literature of the present 
 century. It is impossible to doubt that Byron's 
 diary at Ravenna is but a weak imitation of it. The 
 little diary is a picture in miniature of Swift's perfect 
 misery. It paints him, and doubtless with faithful- 
 ness, as tired of himself and his surroundings. 
 
 Yet it has its comical side. I shall make a few 
 quotations in illustration of this phase of his character. 
 
 " Not a soul is come to Holyhead yet, except a 
 young fellow, who smiles when he meets me, and 
 would fain be my companion ; but it has not come 
 to that yet. He is forced to wear a shirt three days, 
 and has not a clean cravat. He dares not send his 
 linen to be washed in fear of being called away in 
 half an hour. He cannot read at night, and has no 
 books to read in the day. Nor has he any subject at 
 present in his head to write on. He lives at great 
 expense without one comfortable bite or sup." 
 
304 SWIFT. 
 
 A dog is better company than the vicar, for he 
 remembered him of old. 
 
 He is afraid lest his old disorders return. If so, 
 there is not a Welsh house-cur that would not have 
 more care taken of him than he, and whose loss 
 would not be more lamented. He confines himself 
 to his little chamber in all unwalkable hours. 
 
 The master of the ship had not treated him with 
 the least civility, although he knew his name. In 
 short, he has come from being used like an emperor 
 to be used worse than a dog at Holyhead. Yet his 
 hat is worn to pieces in answering the civilities of the 
 poor inhabitants as they pass by. Oh for a dozen 
 bottles of Deanery wine and a slice of bread and 
 butter ! 
 
 The other evening, after not a luxurious but an 
 indigestible dinner of tough fowl and sour wine, he 
 had a dream. He dreamt that Lord Bolingbroke 
 and Pope were at his cathedral, in the gallery, and 
 that his lordship was to preach. He could not find 
 his surplice ; the church servants were all out of the 
 way ; the doors shut. He sent to his lordship to 
 come into his stall, for more conveniency to get into 
 the pulpit. The stall was all broken j they say the 
 collegians had done it. He squeezed among the 
 rabble and saw his lordship in the pulpit. He 
 thought his prayer was good ; but he forgot it. In 
 his sermon he did not like Bolingbroke quoting 
 Mr. Wycherly by name and his play. This is all, 
 and so he awoke. 
 
 One evening, when he was cooking himself dry 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 305 
 
 and was in his nightgown, he received a letter from 
 one, Whelden by name, telling him that he had found 
 out the longitude. Swift returned his letter with a 
 characteristic answer under it, that he had too much 
 of the longitude already by two projectors, whom he 
 encouraged, one of whom was a cheat, and the other 
 cut his own throat ; as for himself, he thought he had 
 a mind to deceive others or be deceived himself 
 
 Thus the diary goes on in an endless but in- 
 teresting jumble. All this, he says, is to divert 
 thinking. 
 
 What strange vagaries passed through his mind 
 during those lonely days of his waiting ! Sometimes 
 he thinks of the King's mistress, and of her Royal 
 mistress the Queen ; at other times of Walpole and 
 Bolingbroke ; of Pope and Gay ; but oftenest of poor 
 Stella and of wretched Ireland, at the thought of 
 which he exclaims : 
 
 Remove me from this land of slaves, 
 Where all are fools and all are knaves ; 
 Where every fool and knave is bought, 
 Yet kindly sells himself for nought. 
 Where Whig and Tory fiercely fight ; 
 Who's in the wrong, who in the right ? 
 And when their country lies at stake. 
 They only fight for fighting's sake ; 
 Where English sharpers take the pay, 
 And then stand by to see fair play. 
 Meanwhile the Whig is always winner, 
 And for his courage gets— a dinner. 
 
 At last the ship set sail, and after contending 
 with fierce waves and storms. Swift reached safely 
 
 X 
 
3o6 SWIFT. 
 
 the city that had given him birth and which was 
 destined to give him sepulture. 
 
 Shortly after his arrival, he received an affecting^ 
 letter from Pope in answer to the one which Swift 
 left for him at Gay's lodgings before his departure 
 for Ireland. 
 
 Pope says : " Your kind letter, left for me at Mr. 
 Gay's, affected me so much that it made me weep like 
 a girl." That disposes of Dr. Johnson's false asser- 
 tion that " Swift left the house of Pope, as it seems, 
 with very little ceremony . . . and did not write to 
 him till he found himself at Chester." Pope goes on 
 in his letter to say : " I was sorry to find you could 
 think yourself easier in any house than in mine, 
 though at the same time I can allow for a tenderness 
 in your way of thinking, even when it seemed to 
 want that tenderness. I cannot explain my mean- 
 ing ; perhaps you know it." 
 
 Swift's reply is characteristic : " I thought it 
 best to return to what fortune has made my home. 
 I find it more convenient to be sick here. Two sick 
 friends never did well together; such an office is 
 fitter for servants and humble companions, to whom 
 it is wholly indifferent whether we give them trouble 
 or not." 
 
 This reminds us of Johnson's pungent question r 
 "Which of his' friends' houses would a man like to be 
 at if suddenly taken ill ? " 
 
 Swift holds out some faint hopes of a return to 
 England. He goes on to say, " If it pleases God, I 
 shall readily make a third journey; if not, we must 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 307 
 
 part, as all human creatures have parted." And 
 then, as if he had a presentiment that they would 
 never meet again in this world, he adds, pathetically : 
 " I have often wished that God Almighty would be 
 so easy to the weakness of mankind as to let old 
 friends be acquainted in another state; and if I were 
 to write a Utopia for heaven, that would be one of 
 my schemes." 
 
 After Swift's arrival, the first sad duty that fell to 
 his lot was for three months to watch over the 
 flickering life of Stella, who for three-and-thirty 
 years had watched over him with a devotion un- 
 paralleled in all history. The end soon came, and 
 with a suddenness that was unexpected. 
 
 Lord Macaulay says "that literature had saved 
 his health and his reason." It was so with Swift. To 
 drown care, to forget himself and his great sorrow, 
 he betakes himself to literature and to right the 
 wrongs of Ireland. 
 
 Swift had done much for Ireland, but there was 
 yet much to do, and, if it could be done at all, he 
 alone of all men could do it. Yet he was -neither 
 an Irish "agitator nor an Irish theorist." His 
 political vision was too clear and his judgment too 
 sound for that. Swift had a supreme contempt for 
 anything that was treasonable. He clearly foresaw 
 that the regeneration of Ireland must be accomplished 
 by force of conviction and not by force of arms. 
 
 Accordingly, in the most honourable manner. 
 Swift laid the wrongs of Ireland before the Queen in 
 person, and her Premier, but without avail. After 
 
 X 3 
 
3o8 SWIFT. 
 
 his second interview with Walpole, Swift's conviction 
 was that so long as Sir Robert remained at the helm 
 of State, hope there was none for Ireland. 
 
 At this crisis Bolingbroke and Pulteney tried hard 
 to get Swift's co-operation to turn Walpole and his 
 Whigs out of office. 
 
 Swift writes to Sheridan : " They have a thousand 
 schemes in which they would have me engage, but 
 I like none of them." To his clear vision they were 
 all Utopian. This was the state of matters when 
 Swift left England in disgust to watch over the 
 death-bed of Stella. Mrs. Howard, the Queen's 
 favourite, still hinted at Walpole's overthrow, Swift's 
 promotion, and Ireland's regeneration. After Stella's 
 death, however, Swift writes to her peremptorily, " I 
 will engage in Court squabbles no more." It was 
 now Swift's settled conviction that so long as the 
 Whigs remained in power the fate of Ireland was 
 sealed. Where, then, was Swift to look for help for 
 Ireland's regeneration .' Not to her Lord Lieutenant ; 
 not to the members of the Irish Parliament — these 
 were only slaves grovelling at the feet of English 
 power; but to the Irish themselves. Accordingly 
 with grim earnestness, with mocking humour, and 
 with biting satire. Swift preached to them the doc- 
 trine of independence. 
 
 He appeals to them in the name of Ireland's 
 wrongs. He paints to them Ireland's woes in colours 
 that will never fade. He draws a terrible picture of 
 what Ireland might seem to a stranger, and ends 
 thus: 
 
THE NATIONALIST. > 309 
 
 My heart is too heavy to continue this irony longer ; for it is 
 manifest that whatever stranger took such a journey would be 
 apt to think himself travelling in Lapland or Iceland rather 
 than in a country so favoured by nature as ours, both in fruitful- 
 ness of soil and temperature of climate. The miserable dens, 
 and dirt, and dwellings of the people, the general desolation in 
 most parts of the kingdom, the old seats of the nobility and 
 gentry all in ruins, and no new ones in their stead ; the families 
 of farmers, who pay great rents, living in filth and nastiness, 
 upon butter-milk and potatoes, without a shoe or stocking to 
 their feet, or a house as convenient as an English hog-stye to 
 receive them. These may, indeed, be comfortable sights to an 
 English spectator who comes for a short time only to learn the 
 language and return back to his own country, whither he finds 
 all his wealth transmitted. Nostra miseria est. 
 
 To the Dean of Emly Swift writes : " There is 
 not an acre in Ireland turned to half its advantage ; 
 yet it is better improved than the people; and all 
 those evils are the effects of English tyranny — so 
 your sons and grandchildren will find to their sorrow." 
 
 In another paper, full of grim humour and bitter 
 satire. Swift says : " I confess myself to be touched 
 with a very sensible pleasure when I hear of a mor- 
 tality in any country parish or village, where the 
 wretches are forced to pay for a filthy cabin and two 
 ridges of potatoes treble the worth ; brought up to 
 steal and beg for want of work ; to whom death 
 would be the best thing to be wished for." 
 
 He goes on : " The people are the riches of a 
 nation; not so in Ireland." Accordingly he crowns 
 this bitter reflection by what seemed to be " the last 
 effort of his despair and genius," his modest proposal 
 for the utilisation of Irish children to enrich the 
 nation. There is nothing like it in the realm of 
 
310 SWIFT. 
 
 literature. " I have been assured," says Swift, " by 
 a very knowing American of my acquaintance in 
 London, that a young, healthy child, well nursed, is, 
 at a year old, most delicious, nourishing, and whole- 
 some food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled, 
 and I make no doubt will equally serve in a fricassee 
 or a ragoiit. I do therefore humbly offer it to 
 public consideration, that, of the hundred and twenty, 
 thousand, childen already computed, twenty thousand 
 may be reserved for breed, whereof one-fourth to be 
 males . . . that the remaining hundred thousand' 
 may at a year old be offered in sale to the persons in 
 quality and fortune through the kingdom ; always 
 advising the mother to let them suck plentifully in 
 the last month, so as to render them plump and fat 
 for a good table. A child will make two dishes at 
 an . entertainment for friends, and when the family 
 dines alone the fore or hind quarter will make a 
 reasonable dish, and seasoned with a little pepper 
 and salt will be very good boiled on the fourth day, 
 especially in winter. ... I have already computed 
 the charge of nursing a beggar's child — in which list I 
 reckon all cottagers, labourers, and four-fifths of the 
 farmers — to be about two shillings per annum, rags 
 included ; and I believe no gentleman would repine 
 to give ten shillings for the carcass of a good fat 
 child, which, as I have said, will make four dishes 
 of excellent nutritive meat. ... As to our city of 
 Dublin, shambles may be appointed for this purpose 
 in the most convenient parts of it ; and butchers, we 
 may be assured, will not be wanting, although I 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 311 
 
 rather recommend buying the children alive than 
 dressing them hot from the knife, as we do roasting 
 pigs. ... I think the advantages by the proposal 
 which I have made are obvious and many, as well as 
 of the highest importance. For it would greatly 
 lessen the number of Papists, with whom we are 
 yearly overrun, being the principal breeders of the 
 nation, as well as our most dangerous enemies. . . . 
 Again, the maintenance of a hundred thousand 
 children from two years old and upwards cannot be 
 computed at less than ten shillings apiece per annum, 
 the nation's stock will be increased fifty thousand 
 pounds per annum, beside the profit of a new dish 
 introduced to the tables of all gentlemen of fortune 
 in the kingdom who have any refinement in taste. 
 And the money will circulate among ourselves, 
 the goods being entirely of our own growth and 
 manufacture. 
 
 " Some persons of desponding spirit are in great 
 concern about that vast number of poor people who 
 are aged, diseased, or maimed ; and I have been 
 desired to employ my thoughts what course may be 
 taken to ease the nation of so grievous an encum- 
 brance. But I am not in the least pain upon that 
 matter, because it is very well known that they are 
 every day rotting by cold and famine, and filth and 
 vermin, as fast as can reasonably be expected. And 
 as to the young labourers, they are now in almost as 
 hopeful a condition ; they cannot get work, and 
 consequently pine away for want of nourishment to 
 a degree that, if at any time accidentally hired to 
 
312 SWIFT. 
 
 common labour, they have no strength to perform it; 
 and thus the country and themselves are happily 
 delivered from the evils to come." 
 
 He ends thus : 
 
 " I profess, in the sincerity of my heart, that I 
 have not the least personal interest in endeavouring 
 to promote this necessary work, having no other 
 motive than the public good of my country, by 
 advancing our trade, providing for infants, relieving 
 the poor, and giving some pleasure to the rich. I 
 have no children by which I can propose to get a 
 single penny, the youngest being nine years old, and 
 my wife past child-bearing." * 
 
 This is the best known and the least understood 
 of all Swift's satires. Some fools have really be- 
 lieved that it was a serious proposal for the eating of 
 Irish infants, as a luxurious dish j whilst others have 
 denounced it as grim humour and nothing more. To 
 interpret it so is to misunderstand its meaning as 
 entirely as did Thackeray and Taine. Whilst the 
 names of Ireland's patriots have gone to oblivion 
 and their eloquence forgotten, "the Modest Pro- 
 posal remains indirectly as the heaviest indictment 
 against the tyranny of the English Government 
 of that day," and will remain as imperishable as 
 the English language. 
 
 Swift had hoped that with the death of George L, 
 
 the reins of Government would pass from Walpole 
 
 and his Whigs. It was not so. The accession of the 
 
 new King confirmed Walpole's supremacy. Swift 
 
 * A Modest Proposal. 
 
THE NATIONALIST. 315 
 
 then realised that the fate of Ireland was sealed. 
 The Countess of Suffolk, the King's favourite, still 
 held out hope, and for a time Swift persevered. He 
 appealed, protested, suggested. It was of no avail ; 
 Walpole was at the helm. " It was only crying to 
 deaf ears." Enraged at the indifference of the Irish 
 themselves, as much as at the tyranny of their 
 English masters, he writes to Francis Grant : " I 
 have done some small services to this kingdom, but 
 I can do no more. I have too many years upon me, 
 and have too much sickness. I am out of favour at 
 Court, where I was well received during two summers 
 six or seven years ago. The governing people here 
 do not love me; for as corrupt as England is, it is a 
 habitation of saints in comparison of Ireland. We 
 are slaves, and knaves, and fools." 
 
 Although after this Swift did many patriotic acts 
 for Ireland, this letter marks the close of his career 
 as an Irish politician. The political battle which he 
 had fought for Ireland "so long and so bravely must 
 now pass to other hands." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SWIFT: THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 
 
 The life of Swift, from the death of Stella until 
 he was laid beside her in the tomb, " is a tragedy more 
 awful and pathetic than any catastrophe which appals 
 us in romance." 
 
 Stella died suddenly in 1728. Swift was in the 
 Deanery one evening, entertaining a dinner-party, 
 when the news arrived that Stella was dead. It was 
 near midnight before he could be alone. Such hours 
 as those must have been for him ! After the guests 
 were gone, and he was alone with his sorrow, the 
 desolate old man, with grief too deep for tears, sat 
 down, in calm agony, to trace on paper, for his own 
 satisfaction, a memorial of her who had been his good 
 angel, his other self. He writes away until his head 
 and fingers ache, and he can write no more. Stella 
 is dead. Swift is alone in the world. Two nights 
 after he lifts the pen, and goes on to write : " This is 
 the night of the funeral, which my sickness will not 
 suffer me to attend. It is now nine at night, and I 
 am removed into another apartment, that I may not 
 see the light in the church, which is just over against 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 315 
 
 the window of my bedroom." What a world of pathos 
 in these simple words ! When the grave closed over 
 Stella, darkness and despair closed over Swift. After 
 that night he was never heard to mention the name 
 of Stella. 
 
 In the dreary Deanery Swift is now alone, with 
 nothing to remind him of Stella but a lock of her 
 hair. After his death it was found in a secret reposi- 
 tory, with the simple superscription in Swift's hand- 
 writing : " Only a woman's hair." What intense 
 pathos under the mask of cynicism ! " Only the 
 memory of a woman's love^ of a life's devotion — only 
 that and nothing more." 
 
 Swift now renounces all public dinners, and lives 
 in the great Deanery house the life of a recluse. 
 Lives in sullen silence like a fallen King. To 
 Windar he writes : " I am as much a monk as any 
 in Spain. I eat my morsel alone like a King." 
 
 No friend, no triumph could calm the demoniacal 
 side of his nature. One would think that the re- 
 membrance of past victories would have calmed his 
 troubled spirit. His life had not been failure, it 
 had been one of struggle, but victory. In England, 
 by the satire of his merciless pen, he had mauled 
 the Whigs, and crushed the wits. In Ireland the 
 rabble, who at first hissed, at last cheered him. The 
 clergy and gentry, who at first received him coldly, 
 at last vied with each other to do him honour. 
 Walpole, the Premier, who at first treated him with 
 indignity, was at last compelled, in deference to 
 Swift, to recall his Lord Lieutenant and cancel his 
 
3i6 SWIFT. 
 
 Act of Parliament which had insulted, if not enslaved 
 the Irish nation. It is true that Swift had reached 
 out his hand for a bishopric, which he had fairly won, 
 and only grasped a deanery. But when the gates 
 of a bishopric closed against him, the gates of glory 
 opened before him. He was now the uncrowned 
 King of Ireland. Yet this is the man of whom 
 Archbishop King in tears informed Delany, as he 
 entered the library from which Swift rushed out in 
 wild despair : 
 
 " Sir, you have just met the most unhappy man 
 upon earth ; but on the subject of his wretchedness 
 you must never ask a question." 
 
 There were secrets in the life of Swift which 
 caused this misery. Trying to discover these is 
 almost like trying to see in the dark. However, 
 after a careful study of the life of Swift, and exami- 
 nation of documents in the British Museum bearing 
 on the subject, . I have come to the conclusion that 
 the secrets which embittered the life of Swift were : 
 The mystery of his childhood ; his entanglement 
 with Stella and Vanessa ; an inner consciousness 
 of incipient madness ; a foreboding of intellectual 
 ruin before death ; lastly, an appalling revelation of 
 his natural relationship to Stella, which forced from 
 his lips the saddest sentence that he ever uttered : 
 " The only woman in the world who could make me 
 happy as a wife, is the ONLY woman in the world 
 who never can be my wife." Strange words, which 
 hitherto have never been understood 1 
 
 These I believe to have been the secrets of 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 317 
 
 Swift's life, which he never DIVULGED to a human 
 being, and which heroically he carried with him in 
 silence to the tomb. These were the secret stings 
 that often goaded him to fury. 
 
 After the death of Stella, Swift's melancholy 
 deepened, and his chronic rage increased. The 
 people among whom he lived, and for whom he 
 did so much, he utterly despised. He detested all 
 classes, from the Lord Lieutenant to the meanest 
 beggar. There is no parallel to such hatred of a 
 people in all history, " unless it be Juvenal's hatred of 
 the Egyptians and Dante's detestation of the people 
 of Pisa." Yet Sw;ift's hatred was different from theirs. 
 His hatred was mingled with divine pity. This was 
 the secret of his patriotism and his sympathy towards 
 them. He declined to accept the title of Patriot, 
 which the Irish nation, with acclamation, bestowed 
 upon him. 
 
 To Pope he writes : " I do profess, without affec- 
 tation, that your kind opinion of me as a patriot, 
 since you call it so, is what I do not deserve ; because 
 what I do is owing to perfect rage and resentment, 
 and the mortifying sight of slavery, folly, and 
 baseness about me, among which I am forced to 
 live." 
 
 Ireland was to him a place of banishment — a 
 wretched, dirty dog-hole, a prison, but good enough 
 to die in. 
 
 To Sheridan he exclaims : " When I die, carry 
 my flesh and bones to Holyhead, for I will not lie in 
 a country of slaves." 
 
31 8 SWIFT. 
 
 On Swift's return from a visit to Sir Artliur and 
 Lady Aciieson's, where, for a time, he might forget 
 himself and his great sorrow, he writes to Pope : 
 " I see no creature but my servants and my old 
 Presbyterian housekeeper, denying myself to every- 
 body till I shall recover my ears." 
 
 In the same letter, lamenting Congreve's death, 
 he says, characteristically : 
 
 I do not only wish, as you ask me, that I was acquainted 
 with any deserving person, but almost that I never had a 
 friend. Here is an ingenious, good-humoured physician, a fine 
 gentleman, an excellent scholar, easy in his fortunes, kind to 
 everybody, has abundance of friends, entertains them often and 
 hberally ; they pass the evening with him at cards, with plenty 
 of good meat and wine, eight or a dozen together ; he loves 
 them all, and they him ; he has twenty of these at command. 
 If one of them dies, it is no more than poor Tom ; he gets 
 another, or takes up with the rest, and is no more moved than 
 at the loss of his cat. He offends nobody, is easy with every- 
 body. Is not this the truly happy man ? I was describing him 
 to my Lady Acheson, who knows him too ; but she hates him 
 mortally by my character, and will not drink his health. I 
 would give half my fortune for the same temper, and yet I can- 
 not say I love it, for I do not love Lord , who is much of 
 
 the doctor's nature. 
 
 This is cynicism in the garb of indifference. We 
 can read between the lines. It is not Congreve's 
 death, but Stella's, that makes him almost wish that 
 he " never had a friend." In his agony of grief, he 
 contrasts himself with the easy-going doctor, who 
 had friends, but no friend, adding, characteristically, 
 " yet I cannot say I love him." 
 
 A month afterwards he wrote to Lord Boling- 
 broke : 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 319 
 
 I find myself disposed every year, or rather every month, to 
 be more angry and revengeful ; and my rage is so ignoble, that 
 it descends even to resent the folly and baseness of the enslaved 
 people among whom I live. I knew an old lord in Leicestershire, 
 who amused himself with mending pitchforks and spades for his 
 tenants gratis. I have higher ideas left, if I were nearer to 
 objects on which I might employ them. . . . Yet I love 
 la bagnteUe better than ever, for, finding it troublesome to read 
 at night, and the company here growing tasteless, I am always 
 writing bad prose or worse verses, either of rage or raillery, 
 whereof some few escape to give offence or mirth, and the rest 
 are burnt. ... I am forced to play at small game, to set the 
 beasts here a-madding, merely for want of better game. " Ten- 
 tanda vice est qua me quoque possim."* . . . 
 
 He goes on : 
 
 I built a wall five years ago, and when the masons played 
 the knaves, nothing delighted me so much as to stand by while 
 my servants threw down what was amiss. I have likewise 
 seen a monkey overthrow all the dishes and plates in the 
 kitchen, merely for the pleasure of seeing them tumble and 
 hearing the clatter they made in their fall. I wish you would 
 invite me to such another entertainment ; but you think as I 
 ought to think, that it is time for me to have done with the 
 world ; and so I would if I could get into a better before I was 
 called into the best, and not die here in a rage, like a poisoned rat 
 in a hole. I wonder you are not ashamed to let me pine away 
 in this kingdom, while you are out of power. 
 
 How strange that even Swift's friends, who had 
 known him best and longest, should only half under- 
 stand him ! Bolingbroke interpreted the last sentence 
 literally, which Swift nieant ironically. Accordingly, 
 next year. Lord Bolingbroke procured for Swift a 
 living near London. The offer might be partly made 
 through selfishness on the part of Bolingbroke. He 
 was still waiting and watching anxiously with 
 
 * New ways I must attempt my grovelling name, 
 To raise aloft, and wing my flight to fame. 
 
320 SWIFT. 
 
 Pulteney for an opportunity to overthrow Walpole 
 and his Whigs. Bolingbroke seems to have misunder- 
 stood a practical joke of Swift's, which occurs in this 
 identical letter. 
 
 "The devil take those politics," says Swift, 
 *' where a dunce might govern for a dozen years 
 together. I will come to England if I am provoked, 
 and send for the dictator* from the plough." How- 
 ever this may be, the offer was simply absurd ; it 
 came too late. Swift was now at bitter variance with 
 the English Court ; he had in the Premier an im- 
 placable foe ; the brilliant scenes in which he had 
 been a prominent actor had passed away — the stage 
 was the same, but the actors different ; his old friends 
 of other days, with few exceptions, were either dead or 
 dying. Besides, to have accepted a living in England 
 other than a deanery or bishopric would have been a 
 retrogression in his profession. Accordingly Swift 
 retained his Irish deanery with the right and luxury 
 of complaining. 
 
 Meanwhile Swift's genius burned brightly, and his 
 literary activity was incessant. About this time, 
 amidst the gloom of melancholy he wrote his ablest 
 and most celebrated poem on his own death. It is so 
 thoroughly characteristic, that I shall be forgiven for 
 ^juoting a few stanzas : 
 
 Behold the fatal day arrive. 
 
 How is the Dean ? He's just alive. 
 
 Now the departing prayer is read ; 
 
 He hardly breathes. The Dean is dead. 
 
 * Bolingbroke, who at this time was living a rustic life. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 321 
 
 Before the passing bell begun, 
 The news through half the town is run. 
 Oh, may we all for death prepare ; 
 What has he left ? and who's his heir ? 
 I know no more than what the news is ; 
 'Tis all bequeathed to public uses. 
 To public uses ; there's a whim ; 
 What had the public done for him ? 
 Mere envy, avarice, and pride ; 
 He gave it all, but first he died. 
 And had the Dean in all the nation 
 No worthy friend, no poor relation ^ 
 So ready to do strangers good, 
 Forgetting his own flesh and blood. 
 
 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 ? 'Tis time he should. 
 He's dead, you say ; then let him rot ; 
 I'm glad the medals were forgot.t 
 
 I promised him, I own, but when ? 
 I only was the Princess then ; 
 But now, as consort of the King, 
 You know 'tis quite another thing. 
 Now Chartres, at Sir Robert's lev^e, 
 Tells with a sneer the tidings heavy ; 
 Why, if he died without his shoes, 
 Cries Bob, I'm sorry for the news. 
 
 Here shift the scene to represent 
 How those I love my death lament. 
 Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay 
 A week, and Arbuthnot a day. 
 
 * Mrs. Howard, at one time a favourite with the Dean. 
 f Which the Dean expected and was promised in return for 
 a. small present he sent to her when Princess of Wales. The 
 medals were to be sent in four months, but never came. 
 
 Y 
 
.322 SWIFT. 
 
 St. John himself will scarce forbear 
 To bite his pen and drop a tear. 
 The rest will give a shrug and cry, 
 I'm sorry, but we all must die. 
 
 My female friends, whose tender hearts 
 
 Have better learned to act their parts. 
 
 Receive the news in doleful dumps ; 
 
 The Dean is' dead. Pray what is trumps ? 
 
 Then Lord have mercy on his soul. 
 
 Ladies, I'll venture for the vole. 
 
 Six deans, they say, must bear the pall, 
 
 (I wish I knew what king to call). 
 
 Madam, your husband will attend 
 
 The funeral of so good a friend. 
 
 No, Madam, 'tis a shocking sight ; 
 
 And he's engaged to-morrow night ; 
 
 My Lady Club will take it ill, 
 
 If he should fail her at quadrille. 
 
 He loved the Dean. I lead a heart ; 
 
 But dearest friends, they say, must part. 
 
 His time was come ; he ran his race ; 
 
 We hope he's in a better place. 
 
 Why do we grieve that friends should die ? 
 
 No loss more easy to supply. 
 
 One year is past ; a different scene. 
 
 No farther mention of the Dean ; 
 
 Who now, alas, no more is miss'd. 
 
 Than if he never did exist 
 
 Such is Swift's characteristic " inventory of human 
 friendships." 
 
 Many of the troubles that enraged Swift had a 
 comic as well as a tragic side. I shall give illustra- 
 tions of some of these before I deal directly with the 
 appalling tragedy of his last years. 
 
 In 1728 — the year in which Stella died — Swift 
 enraged King George and the Court at St James's 
 hy his over-zeal for the name and fame of the brave 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 323 
 
 old general, the Duke of Schomberg. The Duke was 
 drowned in Ireland, and was buried .under the 
 altar of St. Patrick's Catheidral. Swift wrote Lord 
 Carteret to ask Lord Fitzwalter and his wife — the 
 surviving relatives of the late Duke — to send him 
 ^50 to erect a monument to his memory, or he 
 would do it at his own expense. "And if for an 
 excuse," says Swift, "they pretend they will send 
 for his body, let them know it is mine, and rather 
 than send it, I will take up the bones, and make of it 
 a skeleton, and put it in my registry office, to be a 
 memorial of their baseness to all generations." The 
 request was refused. Swift was indignant, and at 
 once ordered a monument to be erected, out of the 
 Cathedral funds, to the memory of the great Duke. 
 Swift, in the inscription which he caused to be 
 engraved on the monument, reflected severely on the 
 penuriousness and ingratitude of his surviving rela- 
 tives. Considering how the famous Dutch general 
 was related to the King of Prussia, this rash act on 
 the part of Swift might have led to serious conse- 
 quences. Swift gives a graphic description of this 
 episode in a letter to Lord Bolingbroke : 
 
 My Lord, — You are to know that this kind of procedure is a 
 practice I have fdllowed some years ; for if a tradesman cheats 
 me, I put him immediately into a newspaper, with the bare 
 matter of fact, which the rogues are grown so afraid of that 
 they are often ready to fall on thei;: knees for pardon. I began 
 this scheme with a long record upon a large piece of black 
 marble in my own cathedral, on the north side of the altar, 
 whereon I put a Latin inscription, which I took care to have 
 published in seven London newspapers. The grand-daughter 
 of the old Duke of Schomberg would not send me the £$0 to 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 SWIFT. 
 
 make him a monument over his burial-place, upon which I 
 ordered the whole story to be engraved ; and you must have 
 seen the writing several years ago, to the scandal of the family, 
 particularly because his present Majesty said, " G— d d — n 
 Dr. Swift," whose design was to make him quarrel with the 
 King of Prussia. Thus I endeavour to do justice to my 
 station, and give no offence. 
 
 In 1729, the Lord Mayor and the Corporation of 
 Dublin presented Swift with the freedom of the city 
 in a gold box. At this time the freedom of the 
 Irish capital was conferred rarely, and only on men 
 great in power and true benefactors of the nation. 
 In Swift's case it was the homage of Ireland to its 
 greatest patriot. 
 
 An eccentric Irish peer, who at one time courted 
 unsuccessfully Swift's friendship, chose, in the Council 
 and House of Peers, to make a bitter speech against 
 him as a Jacobite and a libeller of the Government, 
 and upbraided the Mayor with wasting the money of 
 the Corporation in making the present of a gold box 
 to such a character. 
 
 Swift instantly heard of the attack, and was in- 
 dignant. The poor, crack - brained peer had no 
 sooner made the speech than he repented, and sent, 
 in fear and trembling, a common friend to beg Swift's 
 pardon. The mediator, finding apologies useless, at 
 last said, touching his forehead : 
 
 "You know, sir, our poor friend is a little dis- 
 ordered here at times." 
 
 " I know," answered the Dean with great gravity, 
 " that he is a madman, and if that were all, no man 
 living could commiserate his condition more than 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 325 
 
 myself; but, sir, he is a madman possessed with the 
 devil. I renounce him." 
 
 Accordingly Swift, in his speech of thanks, vin- 
 dicated himself against what he called Lord Allen's 
 insolentj false, scandalous, malicious, and, in a 
 particular degree, perfidious charge ; acknowledged 
 himself author of the Drapier's Letters ; declared 
 that he was no Jacobite or traitor to the Protestant 
 Succession, although, with many wise and good 
 men, he thoroughly opposed many actions of the 
 Government as being diametrically opposed to the 
 best interests both of England and Ireland. He 
 at the same time gave his lordship an undesirable 
 immortality in that stinging satire called "Traulus." 
 He frankly admits his lordship's madness, although 
 not sufficient to excuse his mischief 
 
 Positive and overbearing, 
 Changing still and still adhering, 
 Spiteful, peevish, rude, untoward. 
 Fierce in tongue, in heart a coward ; 
 Reputation ever tearing. 
 Ever dearest friendship swearing ; 
 Judgment weak and passion strong, 
 Always various, always wrong ; 
 Provocation never waits. 
 Where he loves or where he hates ; 
 Talks whatever comes in his head, 
 Wishes it were all unsaid. 
 Hence the mean and sordid soul, 
 Like his body rank and foul ; 
 Hence that wild suspicious peep. 
 Like a rogue that steals a sheep ; 
 Hence he learned the butcher's guile, 
 How to cut your throat and smile. 
 
 On several other occasions was his lordship 
 
326 SWIFT. 
 
 distinguished by Swift's biting, bitter, satirical at- 
 tention. 
 
 This year three forged letters were sent to the 
 Queen purporting to be from Swift, recommending: 
 dictatorially a minor poetess to the patronage of 
 Her Majesty. The Queen was highly incensed. 
 Lady Suffolk, the Court favourite, sent one of the 
 letters to Pope, who forwarded it to Swift. The 
 Dean's reply was characteristic : 
 
 As to those three forged letters you mention, supposed to- 
 be written by me to the Queen on Mrs. Barber's account, 
 especially the letter which bears my name, I can only say the 
 apprehensions one may be apt to have of a friend doing a 
 foolish thing is an effect of kindness ; and God knows who is 
 free from playing the fool at some time or other. But in such. 
 a degree as to write to the Queen . . . and to write in such a 
 manner as the letter you sent me, and in such a style, and to 
 have so much zeal for one almost a stranger, and to make such 
 a description of a woman as to prefer her before all mankind, 
 and to instance it as one of the greatest grievances of Ireland 
 that Her Majesty has not encouraged Mrs. Barber— a woollen- 
 draper's wife declining in the world — because she has the 
 knack of versifying, was to suppose or fear, a folly so trans- 
 cendant that no man could be guilty of who was not fit for 
 Bedlam. You know the letter you sent enclosed is not my 
 hand, and why I should disguise my hand and yet sign my 
 name is unaccountable. 
 
 In his communication with Lady Suffolk on the 
 subject he says : 
 
 I find, from several instances, I am under the Queen's 
 displeasure, and, as it is usual among" princes, without any 
 manner of reason. I am tdld there were three letters sent to- 
 Her Majesty, in relation to one Mrs. Barber, who is now in 
 London, and soliciting for a subscription to her poems. It 
 seems the Queen thinks that these letters were written by me,, 
 and I scorn to defend myself, even to Her Majesty, grounding; 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 327 
 
 my scorn upon the opinion I had of her justice, her taste, and 
 good sense ; especially when the last of those letters, whereof 1 
 have just received the original from Mr. Pope, was signed with 
 my name ; and why I should disguise my hand, which you 
 know very well, and yet sign my name, is both ridiculous and 
 unaccountable. ... I am sensible that I owe a great deal of 
 this usage to Sir Robert Walpole. 
 
 Swift's biographers have been greatly exercised 
 in discovering the forger of the letters. Sir Walter 
 Scott blames Pilkington. Mr. Crocker blames 
 Barber. I think it is more likely to have been 
 some of Walpole's hirelings. There can be na 
 doubt that Walpole tried every conceivable artifice 
 to destroy Swift's influence with the Queen. Swift 
 indignantly resented this injury, and in some of his 
 satirical poems has given to Walpole an unenviable 
 immortality. 
 
 In Swift's epistle to Gay he satirises Walpole 
 thus: 
 
 I knew a brazen Minister of State 
 
 Who bore for twice ten years the public hate. 
 
 In every mouth the question most in vogue 
 
 Was, When will they turn out this o;3ious rogue ? 
 
 A juncture happened in his highest pride ; 
 
 While he went robbing on, old master* died. 
 
 We thought there now remained no room to doubt ; 
 
 His work is done ; the Ministerf must out. 
 
 The Court invited more than one or two : 
 
 Will you, Sir Spencer ? or, will you ? or you ? 
 
 But not a soul his office durst accept ; 
 
 The subtle knave had all the plunder swept ; 
 
 And such was then the temper of the times, 
 
 He owed his preservation to his crimes. 
 
 * King George I. f Sir Robert Walpole. 
 
328 SWIFT. 
 
 The Candidate observed his dirty paws, 
 
 Nor found it difficult to guess the cause ; 
 
 But, when they smelt such foul corruptions round him, 
 
 Away they fled and left hirh as they found him. 
 
 Thus when a greedy sloven once has thrown 
 
 His snout into the mess, 'tis all his own. 
 
 Again he writes to a lady in the heroic style, in 
 which he satirises Walpole thus : 
 
 When my muse officious ventures 
 On the nation's representers ; 
 Teaching by what golden rules, 
 Into knaves they turn their fools ; 
 How the helm is ruled by Walpole, 
 At whose oars like slaves they all pull ; 
 Let the vessel split on shelves; 
 With the freight enrich themselves ; 
 Safe within my little wherry. 
 All their madness makes me merry. 
 Like the waterman of Thames, 
 I row by and call them names ; 
 Like the ever laughing sage. 
 In a jest I spend my rage ; 
 Though it must be understood 
 I would hang them if I could. 
 
 Once more in that masterly satire, entitled, 
 
 " Poetry : A Rhapsody," Swift unmercifully lashes 
 
 Walpole, and the Court all round — the King and his 
 
 titled slaves ; the Premier and the Court poets. After 
 
 a sublime opening, he goes on to encourage the 
 
 starveling bards, whose poetic pen has failed to 
 
 bring them a stock of pence and praise. 
 
 But though you miss your third essay, 
 You^need not throw your pen away. 
 Lay now aside all thoughts of fame, 
 To spring more profitable game. 
 From party merit seek support ; 
 The vilest verse thrives best at Court. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 329 
 
 A pamphlet in Sir Bob's defence 
 Will never fail to bring in pence ; 
 Nor be concerned about the sale, 
 He pays his workmen on the nail. 
 A prince the moment he is crowned 
 Inherits every virtue round. 
 As emblems of the Sovereign power, 
 Like other bubbles in the Tower ; 
 Is generous, valiant, just, and wise, 
 And so continues till he dies ; 
 His humble senate this professes 
 In all their speeches, votes, addresses ; 
 But once you fix him in the tomb 
 His virtues fade, his vices bloom ; 
 And each perfection wrong imputed 
 Is fully at his death computed. 
 The loads of poems in his praise. 
 Ascending make one funeral blaze. 
 As soon as you can hear his knell, 
 This God on earth turns devil in H — ; 
 And lo his Ministers of State, 
 Transformed to imps, his levee waits ; 
 Where in the scenes of endless woe. 
 They ply their former arts below. 
 
 Then, poet, if you mean to thrive. 
 Employ your muse on kings alive ; 
 With prudence gathering up a cluster. 
 Of all the virtues you can muster. 
 Which, formed into a garland sweet. 
 Lay humbly at your monarch's feet ; 
 Who, as the odours reach his throne. 
 Will smile and think them all his own. 
 
 Your garland in the following reign, 
 Change but the names, will do again. 
 
 Two bordering wits contend for glory, 
 And one is Whi?, and one is Tory. 
 
33° SWIFT. 
 
 Harmonious Gibber entertains 
 The Court with annual birthday strains ; 
 Whence Gay was banished in disgrace ; 
 Where Pope will never show his face ; 
 Where Young must torture his invention 
 To flatter knaves or lose his pension. 
 
 Strangely enough, the Court at St. James' mis- 
 took the Rhapsody for a compliment. Swift told a 
 friend that he had actually received the thanks of the 
 Royal Family, who had interpreted literally the 
 ironical passages of praise. 
 
 A courtier at last instructed the Queen how to 
 read it, pointing out its bitter irony, at which Her 
 Majesty laughed heartily. Walpole was furious with 
 indignation. It had touched the vulnerable part of 
 his character. He ordered a warrant to be made out 
 for Swift's arrestment. The night before the Royal 
 messenger was despatched to bring Swift over for 
 trial in England, a Ministerial friend, who knew 
 Swift and Ireland intimately, and krew that he held 
 a position there too powerful for attack, called and 
 calmly asked the Premier who was to accompany the 
 messenger, and whether at that moment he could 
 spare ten thousand soldiers? Nothing less, he 
 declared, could bring the Dean a prisoner out of 
 Ireland. At last Walpole's judgment got the better 
 of his passion, and instead of foolishly attempting to 
 commit Swift to prison, he wisely committed the 
 warrant to the flames. 
 
 This'year his old friend, Alderman Barber, became 
 Lord Mayor of London. Swift had been the founder 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 331 
 
 of his fortune. He writes imploring the Dean to pay 
 him a visit, and on Lord Mayor's day to see a show 
 of his own making. Swift sent him a very touching; 
 reply declining the invitation. 
 
 About this time a young clergyman, Pilkington 
 by name, and his wife wormed themselves into 
 an intimacy at the Deanery. Mrs. Pilkington was 
 young, bright, witty, and had a knack of versifying. 
 She composed a short poem or two in praise of the 
 Dean, which he accepted. Pilkington was anxious 
 to settle in London. Accordingly Swift, in his 
 generous way, gave him a letter of introduction 
 to Bolingbroke, Carteret, Pope, the Lord Mayor, 
 and others, all of whom, for Swift's sake, befriended 
 and helped him. The Lord Mayor appointed him as 
 his chaplain and was kind to him beyond measure. 
 Pilkington and his wife, however, turned out to be a 
 worthless pair, a disgrace to all who had patronised 
 them. Bad they must have been when even Boling- 
 broke* wrote to Swift complaining of their shameless 
 immorality. 
 
 Another oi Svf'iKs protSge'es,-whom he recommended 
 to the same set of patrons, was Mrs. Barber, the 
 Irish poetess, on whose behalf the three forged letters 
 were sent to the Queen in Swift's name. She turned 
 out better than the Pilkingtons. Yet, doubtless it 
 
 * Bolingbroke, in his letter to Swift, asks ; " What are you 
 doing ? Good, I am sure. But of what kind ? Pray, Mr. Dean,, 
 be a little more cautious in your recommendations. The fellow- 
 wants morals, and, as I hear, decency sometimes." 
 
332 SWIFT. 
 
 was a relief to Swift, to herself, and her patrons, when 
 she gave up the making and selling of Irish poetry 
 for the making and selling of Irish linen.* 
 
 A strange incident happened to Swift in January, 
 I734- He had penned a stinging satire on the words 
 Brother Protestant and Fellow Christian, so fami- 
 liarly used by the Dissenters in their advocacy of 
 the repeal of the Test Act in Ireland. Swift refused 
 their brotherhood, and would have none of their 
 fellowship. Among other ludicrous illustrations of 
 their presumption, he used the following simile : 
 
 Thus at the Bar the Booby Bettesworth, 
 Though half-a-crown o'erpays his sweatsworth, 
 Who knows in law, nor text, nor Margent, 
 Calls Singleton his brother Sergeant. 
 
 Bettesworth, who is here referred to, was a Member 
 of the House of Commons and a Serjeant-at-Law. 
 His turbulent eloquence was an infliction on Parlia- 
 ment and the Bar. He had interfered actively 
 against the clergy, and had roused Swift's wrath. 
 When Bettesworth read the verse he was wild with 
 indignation. Arming himself with a huge knife, and 
 accompanied by his footman, the vain and passionate 
 creature hurried to the Deanery with the threat that 
 he would cut out the Dean's ears. On his arrival at 
 the Deanery, the butler informed him that the Dean 
 had gone to a dinner-party at Mr. Worrel's. Thither 
 went Bettesworth. He was shown to an anteroom, 
 and summoned Swift from the dinner-table. As the 
 
 * The Pilkingtons and Mrs. Barber were recommended to 
 Swift's patronage by Dr. Delany. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 333 
 
 Dean entered, the Serjeant advanced to him with 
 great haughtiness and said : 
 
 "Doctor Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's, I 
 am Serjeant Bettesworth." 
 
 " Of what regiment ? " answered Swift. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Dean," said Bettesworth, "we know 
 your powers of raillery. You know well enough that 
 I am one of His Majesty's Serjeants-at-Law." 
 
 « What then, sir .? " 
 
 "Why then, sir, I am come to demand of you 
 whether you are the author of this poem" — pro- 
 ducing it — " and these villainous lines on me .■' " at 
 the same time reading them aloud with great emphasis 
 and much gesticulation. 
 
 " Sir," said Swift, " it was a piece of advice given 
 to me in my early days by Lord Somers never to 
 own or disown any writing laid to my charge, because 
 if I did this in some cases, whatever I did not disown 
 afterwards would infallibly be imputed to me as mine. 
 Now, sir, I take this to have been a very wise maxim,, 
 and as such have followed it ever since ; and I be- 
 lieve it will hardly be in the power of all your 
 rhetoric, as great a master as you are of it, to make 
 me swerve from that rule." 
 
 After a very angry parley, Bettesworth began " to- 
 raise his voice," and give such indications of violence 
 thatWorrel, with some of his guests and menservants, 
 rushed into the room, and in a somewhat summarily 
 manner the Serjeant and his footman suddenly found 
 themselves on the street in terror and dismay. The 
 news of the outrage spread like wildfire. The citizens 
 
334 SWIFT. 
 
 were indignant. A mob assembled to protect their 
 patriot Dean, and sent a deputation to him asking 
 his sanction forthwith to take vengeance on Bettes- 
 worth. Swift forbade this; but for their zeal gave 
 them thanks, with two or three guineas ; told them 
 not to get drunk with the money, but to return 
 peaceably and soberly to their homes, adding, " You 
 are my subjects, and I expect you will obey me." 
 They instantly complied. Afterwards some of them 
 formed themselves into a guard to watch the Deanery 
 and person of the Dean against any new scheme of 
 Bettesworth's violence. 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Dorset, wrote 
 to Swift asking for particulars of the outrage. Swift 
 pooh-poohed the whole matter, and thus ended the 
 strange episode. 
 
 Although the person of Bettesworth did not suffer, 
 his purse did. Some years afterwards he confessed 
 in the House of Commons that through Swift's satires, 
 and his escapade against the Dean, his professional 
 income had suffered to the extent of ;^i,20o a year. 
 
 This incident verifies the truth of what Lord 
 Carteret wrote to Swift only a few months before. 
 " I know by experience," says Carteret, referring to 
 the time when he was Lord Lieutenant, "how much 
 that city thinks itself under your protection, and how 
 strictly they used to obey all orders fulminated from 
 the sovereignty of St. Patrick's. . . . You can give 
 any one law and capacity in half an hour ; and if by 
 chance a rake should get those faculties any other 
 way, you can make the worthy citizens believe he 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HFS LATER YEARS. 335 
 
 has them not ; and you can sustain any machine in a 
 furred gown." 
 
 Another incident happened this year^ which Swift 
 took more seriously to heart than the mad freak of 
 Bettesworth — Lord Bolingbroke retired to the South 
 of France. Tliis interrupted for a time their brilliant 
 correspondence, which to both of them had been a 
 source of profound pleasure. 
 
 About this time he drew the following tremendous 
 picture of the Day of Judgment as a satire upon the 
 paltry bickerings of the sects : 
 
 While each pale sinner hung his head, 
 Jove, nodding, shook the heavens, and said : 
 " Offending race of human kind, 
 By reason, nature, learning, blind ; 
 You who through frailty step'd aside. 
 And you who never fell — through pride ; 
 You who in different sects were shamm'd. 
 And come to see each other dam'd — 
 So some folks told you ; but they knew 
 No more of Jove's designs than you. 
 The world's mad business now is o'er, 
 And I resent these pranks no more. 
 I to such blockheads set my wit, 
 I d such fools. Go, go, you're bit." 
 
 Paradoxical as it may appear, he who penned 
 these terrible lines was a man of intense sensitivity 
 of nature — divine in pity. 
 
 In 173s Swift published his treatise on "The Art 
 of Polite Conversation " — a severe satire on the 
 namby-pamby talk of "polite society," which often 
 annoyed and enraged Swift. It was dramatised, and 
 acted in Dublin Theatre before crowded audiences 
 
336 SWIFT. 
 
 with great klat. What a world of thought and labour 
 Swift must have had in gathering and arranging the 
 material for this extraordinary piece of satire ! 
 
 I should here like to have reproduced Swift's 
 vivid picture of an aristocratic dinner-party of a 
 century and a half ago ; but time and space forbid. 
 I shall, however, quote a sentence or two to illustrate 
 the style of talk. 
 
 The dinner is over. The ladies have retired to 
 the drawing-room with great formality. The gentle- 
 men are alone. 
 
 Lord Smart (to butler). — "Come, John, bring us 
 a fresh bottle." 
 
 Colonel Aitwit — " Ay, my lord, and pray let him 
 carry off the dead men, as we say in the army" 
 (meaning the empty bottle). 
 
 Lord Sparkish (to Mr. Neverout). — "Is not that 
 bottle full ? " 
 
 Neverout. — " Yes, my lord ; full of emptiness." 
 
 Lord Smart. — "And, d'ye hear, John, bring clean 
 glasses." 
 
 Colonel. — " I'll keep mine, for I think wine is the 
 best liquid to wash glasses in." 
 
 And so on this small talk flows, and might flow 
 for ever, did not sleep at last shut their eyes, and 
 weariness their mouths. Such was a dinner-party 
 a hundred and fifty years ago. Are they more 
 intellectual now .' 
 
 This year Swift also finished that admirable but 
 comical satire entitled " Directions to Servants." It 
 is the most whimsical piece of masterly irony that 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 337 
 
 Swift ever penned. It proves that he was not only 
 conversant with the frivolities and inanities of aristo- 
 cratic life^ but also with the little trickeries, frauds* 
 and falsehoods of domestic life. To describe it is 
 impossible ; it must be read. It even pleases the 
 Edinburgh Reviewers, and that is saying much. 
 I have only space for one of the directions : " When 
 you find years coming on without hopes of a place at 
 Court ... I directly advise you to go upon the road, 
 which is the only post of honour left you ; there you 
 will meet many of your old comrades, and live a 
 short life and a merry one.'' Swift next instructs 
 them how to behave themselves when led to the 
 gallows. 
 
 "Such," says Taine, "are his directions to ser- 
 vants ; he was relating what ke had suffered." 
 
 One would have thought that a man like Swift 
 would have treated domestics like children— ignorant 
 and illiterate children — as altogether beneath his 
 notice. But, no. He seems from this treatise to 
 have studied their habits with as much enthusiasm 
 and interest as Darwin did the habits of worms. 
 What an omniscient master Swift must have been ! 
 One evening, at dinner with Lord Chesterfield, after 
 the servants had retired, he said to his lordship : 
 ^' That fellow," meaning the footman who had stood 
 behind his chair and served him, "that fellow, 
 since we sat down to dinner, has committed fifteen 
 mistakes." Yet Swift was the kindest and most 
 sympathetic of masters. His domestics adored him. 
 Yet he never spared their faults. He rebuked them 
 
338 SWIFT. 
 
 in such comical ways that they never could forget 
 the rebuke or be offended. At dinner one evening, 
 in the Deanery, a joint had been overdone. He 
 desired the butler to call the cook. The fat old 
 woman instantly made her appearance in the dining- 
 room in fear and trembling. 
 
 "Sweetheart," said Swift, "take this mutton^ 
 down to the kitchen, and do it less." 
 
 In utter amazement, she stammered out, " Sir,, 
 that is impossible." 
 
 "Then, for the future," said Swift, "if you. 
 must commit faults, commit faults that can be 
 mended." 
 
 There is another well ^ authenticated story^ 
 thoroughly characteristic of Swift's treatment of 
 servants, related by Sir Walter Scott. The son of an 
 Irish squire was one morning riding near his father's 
 house at Kells, when he met a gentleman on horse- 
 back reading. A little surprised, he asked the servant,, 
 who followed him at some distance, where they came 
 from? 
 
 " From the ' Black Lion,' " answered the groom. 
 
 " And where are you going ? " 
 
 " To heaven, I believe," rejoined the servant^ " for 
 my master is praying and I am fasting." 
 
 On further inquiry it proved that the Dean, who 
 was then going to Laracor, had rebuked the man for 
 presenting him in the morning with dirty riding- 
 boots. 
 
 "Were they clean," answered the fellow, "they 
 would soon be dirty again." 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 339 
 
 "And if you eat your breakfast/' retorted the 
 Dean, " you will soon be hungry again, so you shall 
 proceed without it." 
 
 After the death of his old Presbyterian house- 
 keeper, who (as Swift said) had been his " Walpole " 
 for thirty years, his servants gave him trouble. The 
 butler, for treating an old beggar-woman unkindly 
 at the Deanery door, was dismissed by Swift with 
 the most comical certificate ever written. The fellow 
 went to London, and through the comicality of the 
 certificate was engaged by Pope, and continued with 
 him until Pope died. 
 
 Swift, however, knew how to encourage as well 
 as rebuke servants. On one occasion, at an Irish 
 inn where he was staying for a few days, he was 
 struck by the intelligence and attention of a maid- 
 servant. On his departure he gave her a guinea, 
 and desired her to purchase some Irish stuff, mean- 
 ing a dress of Irish manufacture. On his return to 
 the inn a year afterwards, he desired the young 
 maiden to show him what she had purchased with 
 the guinea. She rushed out of the room, and in- 
 s.tantly returned with an apronful of books. " Pray, 
 sir," said the maid, " this was the best Irish stuff that 
 I could find." It was a complete set of the Dean's 
 works. Doubtless Swift must have been amazed, 
 amused, and gratified. 
 
 The Dean took great pains to teach servants 
 manners. On one occasion he received from a 
 certain duke a present of game. The messenger, 
 an Irish page-boy, when ushered into Swift's studio, 
 
 z 2 
 
340 SWIFT. 
 
 had made the presentation in rather a curt, awkward 
 way. 
 
 " You ignorant Irish donkey," said Swift, " that 
 is not the way to address a dignitary of the Church. 
 Take my chair, you young rascal, and I will teach 
 you manners." 
 
 The Dean, taking the game in his own hand, and 
 advancing to where the boy sat, made a profound 
 bow, and said : 
 
 " Your reverence, his grace the Duke of 
 
 desired me to present you with his compliments 
 and this game." 
 
 "Very well done, my boy," said the little page, 
 addressing Swift ; " here is a half-crown for you." 
 
 The Dean gave him a crown. 
 
 " Upon another occasion," says Sir Walter Scott, 
 " Swift and some of his friends resolved to celebrate 
 a classical ' Saturnalia ' at the Deanery, and actually 
 placed their servants at table, while they themselves 
 attended them. The butler, who represented the 
 Dean, acted his master to the life. He sent Swift to 
 the cellar in quest of some particular wine, then 
 affected to be discontented with the wine he brought, 
 and commanded him to bring another sort. The 
 Dean submissively obeyed, took the bottle to the 
 sideboard and decanted it, while the butler still 
 abused him in his own style. . . . When the tables 
 were removed, the scene was reversed, an enter- 
 tainment served up to the proper guests, and 
 everything conducted by the very servants who had 
 partaken of the ' Saturnalia ' in an orderly and 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 341 
 
 respectful manner." "These anecdotes," says Sir 
 Walter Scott, " serve to show that the Dean took a 
 particular pleasure in observing this class of society, 
 and explains the extraordinary insight which he 
 obtained into their habits and character." 
 
 In the year 1737 Swift received the freedom of 
 the City of Cork in a silver box, which he returned 
 with the following haughty letter : 
 
 To The Right Worshipful the Lord Mayor, Alder- 
 men, Sheriffs, and Common Council of the City 
 OF Cork. 
 
 Gentlemen, — ... I could have wished, as I am a private 
 man, that in the instrument of my freedom you had pleased to 
 assign your reasons for making choice of me. ... I cannot 
 discover in the whole parchment scrip any one reason offered. 
 Next, as to the silver box, there is not so much as iny name 
 upon it, nor any one syllable to show it was a present from your 
 city. Therefore I have sent back the box and instrument of 
 freedom to you, leaving to your choice whether to insert the 
 reasons for which you were pleased to give me my freedom, or 
 bestow the box upon some more worthy person whom you may 
 have an intention to honour, because it will equally fit everybody. 
 
 One would naturally think that the citizens of 
 Cork would have resented such cavalier treatment 
 with indignation. But no, the Lord Mayor instantly 
 replied in the following letter, which shows how 
 Swift was adored even in the remote parts of 
 Ireland : 
 
 "The many services," says the Lord Mayor, 
 "that the public have received from you are the 
 motives that induce us to make you one of our 
 citizens ; and as they will ever remain monuments to 
 your glory, we imagined it needless to make any 
 inscription on the box, and especially as we have no 
 
342 SWIFT. 
 
 precedents on our books for any such. But as so 
 great and discerning a patriot merits all distinction 
 that can be made, I have, by the consent and appro- 
 bation of the council, directed the box to you, and 
 hope what is inscribed upon it, although greatly 
 inferior to what your merit is entitled to, will, how- 
 ever, demonstrate the great regard and respect we 
 have for you, on account of the many singular 
 services your pen and your counsel have done this 
 poor country." 
 
 Was humble pie ever eaten by a corporation with 
 such dignity and grace ? 
 
 Thus ended this strange episode. Swift cared 
 not a feather for this Irish homage, but accepted it to 
 vex Walpole and his Government, especially the 
 Primate of Ireland, Swift's implacable foe and 
 Walpole's firm friend. 
 
 The last public act which Swift performed for 
 Ireland was in the Exchange of Dublin, when he 
 signed a petition to Government, and made a powerful 
 speech against lowering the value of gold. 
 
 When the Act was passed and proclamation of it 
 made, Swift ordered a black flag to be displayed 
 from the steeple of the cathedral, and caused a dumb 
 or muffled peal to be rung from the bells of St. 
 Patrick's as a signal of national disaster. 
 
 The excitement of the mob was intense. The 
 Primate of Ireland — a mere puppet in the hands of 
 Walpole — had been active and influential in passing 
 the Act, was in danger from the mob, and his palace 
 had to be guarded by soldiers. At the Lord Mayor's 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 343 
 
 entertainment the Archbishop publicly charged Swift 
 
 " with having inflamed the prejudices of the people." 
 
 " I inflame them ? " retorted Swift. " Had I lifted 
 
 up a finger, they would have torn you to pieces." 
 
 This retort Swift afterwards expressed in poetry 
 
 thus : 
 
 At Dublin's high feast sat Primate and Dean, 
 Both dressed like divines, with band and face clean. 
 Quoth Hugh of Armagh, " The mob is grown bold." 
 "Ay, ay," quoth the Dean, " the cause is old gold." 
 " No, no,'' quoth the Primate, "if causes we sift, 
 This mischief arises from witty Dean Swift." 
 The smart one replied : " There's no wit in the case, 
 And nothing of that ever troubled your Grace. 
 
 It is a pity a prelate should die without law. 
 But if I say the word, take care of Armagh." 
 
 Thus ended Swift's last interference with public 
 affairs. These are specimens of the troubles which 
 annoyed and enraged Swift, when there was no Stella 
 to calm the troubled soul and charm away the demon 
 spirit. Although Swift's life work was well-nigh 
 ■ended, his fame continued and his name was still a 
 power in the land. His influence was felt from the 
 helm of state in England to the badging of beggars 
 in Ireland. 
 
 Swift's immense popularity, however, could not 
 prevent him from sinking into the vale of years. 
 Some half-dozen years before this he had written : 
 See how the Dean begins to break ! 
 
 These words were now literally true. This year his 
 eyes failed, his memory failed, his mind failed ; he 
 was but the shadow of his former self His unsocial 
 
344 SWIFT. 
 
 deafness prevented him from going into society. 
 From some strange vow or whim, which Johnson 
 afterwards imitated^ Swift refused the aid of spec- 
 tacles. Consequently his only resource was writing 
 at night what he burned in the morning. The usual 
 concomitant evils of age, the loss of health, and the 
 loss of friends Swift now felt keenly. He writes to 
 his friend. Sir John Stanley : " As to" myself, years- 
 and infirmities have sunk my spirits to nothing. My 
 English friends are all either dead or in exile, or by 
 a prudent oblivion have utterly dropped me, having 
 loved this present world. And to this country I am 
 only a favourite of my old friends the rabble, and 
 I return their love because I know none else who 
 deserve it." 
 
 During the last few years death had made sad 
 havoc among his friends. Stella died in 1728, 
 Addison in 1719, Congreve in 1729, Gay in 1732, 
 Arbuthnot in 1734, Lady Masham in 1734, and the 
 Earl of Peterborough in 1735. Bolingbroke had 
 retired to France, and Pope alone remained, to whom 
 he writes : " I have nobody now left but you. Pray 
 outlive me, and then die as soon as you please, but 
 without pain." 
 
 At this time, unsatisfactory as Swift's health was, 
 his humour had not quite left him. He could still 
 crack his jokes. To an old friend who had invited 
 him to spend a few weeks at his country residence. 
 Swift writes jestingly : 
 
 It is one good sign that giddiness is peculiar to youth, and I 
 find I grow giddier as I grow older ; and therefore, conse- 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 345. 
 
 quently, I grow younger. If you will remove six miles nearer, 
 I shall be content to come sponge upon you, as poor as you are ;. 
 for I cannot venture to be half a day's journey from Dublin, 
 because there is no sufficient medium of flesh between my skin 
 and my bones, particularly in the parts that lie upon the saddle. 
 Therefore be pleased to send me three dozen ounces of flesh 
 before I attempt such a venture, or get me a six mile inn 
 between this town and your house. 
 
 Alas ! Swift's jestings are almost over. A few 
 more jests, a few more letters, a few more kindly- 
 acts, a few more lamentations over his own state and 
 that of Ireland, a few more prayers to be delivered 
 from the evil to come, and his life work is done. 
 The infirmities of old age are now gathering thick 
 and fast upon him. 
 
 About the end of this year it became painfully- 
 visible to his friends that the gloom of melancholy- 
 was settling upon him. 
 
 It is sad to note that at each recurring birthday, 
 when bells were ringing, and bonfires blazing, and 
 the city illuminated in honour of her patriot Dean, 
 Swift should retire to his closet to fast and pray, 
 and to read the third chapter of Job, and in stifled 
 sobs curse the day of his birth. Years before his 
 death, his usual salutation at taking leave of his 
 dearest friends who came to visit at the Deanery 
 was characteristic of his eccentricity and deep-seated 
 melancholy. " Good-bye," he said ; " may God bless 
 you. I trust that we shall never meet again." 
 
 The last pathetic letter that he ever wrote was to 
 
 Mrs. Whitway : 
 
 I have been very miserable all night, and to-day extremely 
 deaf and full of pain. I am so stupid and confoupded, that I 
 
346 SWIFT. 
 
 cannot express the mortification that 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 know one word I write. I am 
 sure my days will be very few ; few and miserable they must 
 be. 
 
 I am, for those few days, yours entirely, 
 
 Jon. Swift. 
 If I do not blunder, it is Saturday, July 26, 1740. 
 
 The last sentence is very touching. "My days 
 will be few ; few and miserable they must be." Dr. 
 Lyon, his attendant, informs us that Swift saw with 
 unerring certainty his coming fate as clearly as he 
 could see a coming shower. 
 
 Many years before this, when on a journey with 
 friends, they came to a great elm-tree blighted at 
 the top. Swift stood, speechless, gazing intently 
 upon it, and, at last, pointing his finger to his fore- 
 head, exclaimed mournfully : " I shall die like that 
 tree, I shall die first at the top." Somers' and 
 Marlborough's imbecility reminded him of his own 
 anticipated fate. This clear foreknowledge of his 
 latter end must have intensified the agony of his 
 mind. Can we wonder that he was through life 
 often morose and melancholy, and had painted the 
 blank wretchedness of the "man who was doomed 
 to outlive friends and memory ; to linger on without 
 part in action, and without hope of death ; who was 
 least miserable if he turned to dotage " } What a 
 faithful portraiture of his own latter years ! 
 
 The nature of Swift's malady was a problem that 
 baffled physicians to classify. Quite recently, how- 
 ever. Dr. Bucknill, the famous specialist, has dis- 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 347 
 
 covered it to have been "what medical science now 
 recognises as ' Labyrinthine Vertigo ' " ; or, as it is 
 sometimes called, in honour of the pathologist who 
 discovered it, " La Maladie de Meniere," said to be 
 one of the most awful maladies that is known to 
 surgery. 
 
 In 1742 Swift's intellect became entirely clouded, 
 and he ceased to be responsible. That year the 
 Court of Chancery appointed for him guardians. He 
 had yet at times lucid intervals ; during one of these 
 he wrote his last epigram. His a,ttendants had taken 
 him out for carriage exercise. When they came to 
 the park. Swift saw a new building, and asked what it 
 was designed for. To which Dr. Kingsbury answered: 
 
 " That, Mr. Dean, is the magazine for arms and 
 powder, for the security of the city." 
 
 " Oh, oh," says the Dean, pulling out his note- 
 book, " let me take an item of that. This is worth 
 remarking. ' My tablets,' as Hamlet says, ' my 
 tablet's memory put down that.' " Which produced 
 the following epigram, the last he ever wrote : 
 
 Behold a proof of Irish sense, 
 
 Here Irish wit is seen ; 
 When nothing's left that's wbrth defence, 
 
 They build a magazine. 
 
 Swift is now a confirmed lunatic. His reason gave 
 way entirely ; it was a total eclipse. He ceased to be 
 responsible for his actions. " He was the Struldbrug 
 his own fancy had foreboded." It is recorded that 
 he paced his chamber ten hours a day, eating as he 
 walked. He hated the very sight of humankind. If 
 
348 SWIFT. 
 
 they did enter into his presence — and at times it was 
 not safe so to do — they were met with the response ; 
 " Go, go," if not something more emphatic. When 
 his attendant snatched a knife from his hands, he 
 answered : " I am what I am." Surveying himself 
 one day in a mirror, he was heard to murmur 
 piteously : " Poor old man." On another occasion, 
 baffled to find words to convey his meaning, he 
 pointed his finger to his head, and said : " My best 
 understanding." His last words were : " I am a 
 fool." Poor Swift. 
 
 What a contrast now from the time when, as 
 dictator of the politics of England, he shook nations 
 with rage or laughter. Now he speaks as an imbecile, 
 and the nations weep. 
 
 Into the harrowing details of the last three years 
 of Swift's imbecile life I decline to enter. That 
 portion of his life belongs neither to the accuser nor 
 apologist, neither to God nor man, but is sacred to 
 himself. Therefore, in mercy, I shall here let the 
 curtain fall upon the darkened stage. Enough to say, 
 " That nothing in the recorded history of humanity, 
 nothing that the imagination of man has conceived, 
 can transcend in horror and pathos the accounts 
 which have come down to us of the closing scenes 
 of his life." 
 
 At last death came to his relief on the 19th of 
 October, 1745, at three in the afternoon. 
 
 Swift is dead. The news spread like wildfire; 
 the nation's grief knew no bounds. The citizens of 
 Dublin, of all ranks and ages, flocked to the Deanery 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF HIS LATER YEARS. 349 
 
 to pay their homage, to take the last fond look of 
 their patriot dean, and "to beg a hair of him for 
 memory." 
 
 The city that gave him birth gave him sepulture. 
 In obedience to his will, he was buried privately at 
 midnight, without pomp, in St. Patrick's Cathedral. 
 Over his grave is the terrible epitaph which he wrote 
 himself : 
 
 Hie depositum est corpus 
 
 Jonathan Swift, S.T.P. 
 
 Hujus Ecclesiae Cathedralis 
 
 Decani. 
 
 Ubi sasva indignatio 
 
 Uterius cor Lacerare nequit. 
 
 Abi, viator, 
 
 Et imitare, si Poteris, 
 
 Strenuum pro Virili Libertatis vindicem. 
 
 Obiit Anno (1745) : 
 
 Mensis (Octobris) Die (19) ; 
 
 ^tatis Anno (78). 
 
 Afier death, when his will was opened, it was 
 found that he had bequeathed his whole fortune to 
 build a lunatic asylum. Strange legacy, yet thoroughly 
 characteristic of Swift — characteristic of his sympathy 
 for those who, in after ages, were afflicted like him- 
 self — characteristic of his unselfishness — the recipients 
 of his charity could never thank him — characteristic 
 of his satire, the gift being emblematic of what the 
 world needs. 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 SWIFT : ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER. 
 
 Swift, born in poverty, educated on charity, by force 
 of genius stepped forward to be the companion of 
 kings, the leader of men, the guider of nations, and 
 the instructor of mankind. 
 
 In person Swift was tall, portly, arid command- 
 ing, with aquiline features, swarthy complexion, stern 
 countenance, and eyes azure as the 'heavens, full of 
 scrutiny and suspicion, and sparkling with mirth and 
 mockery. He never laughed, seldom smiled, and 
 when angry his scowl was awful. In manner abrupt, 
 in step rapid, in voice imperious ; his tone to every- 
 body, even to Queen Caroline, was that of an acknow- 
 ledged superior. No figure was better known to the 
 London of a century and a half ago than that of 
 Swift. 
 
 From boyhood Swift was ambitious and daring 
 — the audaciousness of the youth investing his all in 
 the purchase of the knacker's horse that he might 
 enjoy a day's triumph over his schoolfellows, was 
 characteristic of the man who left the house of the 
 Whig Premier vowing vengeance; who treated the 
 
ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER. ' 351 
 
 Tory Ministry witli " the petulance of a Royal mis- 
 tress/' the one day caressing and the next scolding 
 them. " If we let these great Ministers," said Swift, 
 " pretend too much, there will be no governing them." 
 
 Swift's start in life was sad. Without a father ta 
 guide him, with no pleasing memories of childhood, 
 without an alma mater — "for Dublin University was 
 hardly that to him" — he broke its rules, despised its 
 men, and received his degree grudgingly, almost 
 with pitying scorn. Swift was not a great scholar. 
 " Indeed, the world's great men have not been great 
 scholars, nor its great scholars great men." 
 
 From College he was ushered into the Temple 
 family ; at first to be Sir William's pupil, afterwards 
 his secretary. At this time he was conscious or 
 intellectual strength ; but in what it lay as yet he 
 did not quite know. 
 
 " The Battle of the Books " and the " Tale of a 
 
 Tub" soon taught him that satire was his power. 
 
 As a prose satirist Swift was the greatest of all time. 
 
 His mission was to lash mankind, and he wielded the 
 
 lash unmercifully.* He writes to Congreve : 
 
 My hate, whose lash just Heaven has long decreed, 
 Shall on a day make sin and folly bleed. 
 
 In the luxurious home of Temple, Swift, as an 
 ambitious young, man, had many opportunities which 
 he improved. Here he saw the comings and goings 
 of the great men whose movements were making 
 part of the history of Europe. " Here, too, he laid the 
 foundation of his literary and political renown." 
 
 * Rabelais' satire amuses us. Swift's satire angers us. 
 
352 • SWIFT. 
 
 The greatest name in the Augustan age of 
 English literature is that of Swift. " He has given to 
 the world a literature which to study and understand 
 is a liberal education." His style consists of precision, 
 <;oncision, simplicity, and lucidity. " It may occa- 
 sionally puzzle the intellect, but never the wit. Some- 
 times, in humility, we have to ask what does he mean? 
 but never, in despair, what can he mean } " 
 
 Voltaire, said that he owed the love he had for 
 the English language, to the writings of Swift. 
 
 According to the present canon of poetical taste. 
 Swift was not a great poet. The poetic standard 
 of taste has changed since Swift's day, and may again 
 change after ours. 
 
 Although not a great poet, Swift has written 
 some verses over which the world will long love to 
 linger. Dull of soul must he be who can peruse them 
 without a realisation of their power and beauty. 
 " When he put the sensitivity of his delicate feelings 
 into verse he wrote for eternity." 
 
 Great as Swift was as a litterateur, he was equally 
 great as a politician. Indeed in both he stood 
 unique. In 171 3 he was at the head of the political 
 world. In 1724 he was at the head of the literary 
 world. His political writings were ever clear. His 
 political achievements were truly great. " He had 
 often," says Lord Bathurst, "by an hour's work in 
 his study made three nations drunk at once.'' During 
 his political dictatorship of England he stood superior 
 to parties. He dined daily with the Ministry, and 
 bullied them, and on whipping day lashed them. 
 
ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER. 353 
 
 Indeed, his attitude towards politics was one of scep- 
 ticism and pessimism. He was often sick to death of 
 politics and everything appertaining to them. He 
 was too great a genius to belong wholly to any 
 party. 
 
 As an Irish politician, "he was a patriot under the 
 guise of a cynic." He was as independent of the 
 Irish masses as he was of the Irish classes. It has 
 been well said that Swift was Ireland's truest patriot; 
 her first, almost her last. 
 
 Great as Swift was as a litterateur, politician, and 
 Irish nationalist, his personality was greater still. 
 The magnetism of his intellectuality was powerfully 
 felt by all who came into contact with him. Harley 
 and Bolingbroke felt it ; Pope and Addison felt it ; 
 Congreve and Gay felt it ; Prior and Arbuthnot felt 
 it. All of them came under the spell of his powerful 
 intellect. His spirit has deeply imbued the politics and 
 literature of Europe. He helped to form Voltaire, and 
 Byron, and Carlyle. " It is the fate of genius to be 
 more admired than loved." It was otherwise with 
 Swift ; his illustrious contemporaries not only ad- 
 mired but adored him, and clung to him to the end. 
 
 Swift's idiosyncrasies were strongly marked and 
 very striking. I shall enumerate a few. In Swift 
 there was much of the demoniacal element — that 
 mystic something, that potency and energy, which 
 Goethe tells us is in all great men. Stella and 
 Vanessa felt its influence. Vanessa writes to Swift : 
 " There is something so awful in your look at times 
 that strikes me dumb." Again she writes : " What 
 
354 SWIFT. 
 
 marks are there of deity that are not to be found in 
 you?" 
 
 Another feature of Swift's character was his 
 boundless pride. He was not vain, he was too 
 proud for that. Vanity^ he says, was a mark of 
 humility, not of pride. " I make no figure," he 
 writes to Stella, " but at Court, when I affect to turn 
 away from a lord to the meanest of my acquaint- 
 ances." His boast through life was that he made 
 proud dukes and lords pay him the first visit, and to 
 procure his friendship compelled the titled slaves to 
 stoop in proportion to their rank. This acting of 
 dignity was one of Swift's pardonable weaknesses, 
 which he foolishly mistook for independence. 
 
 Another idiosyncrasy in Swift was superstition. 
 He writes to Vanessa : " I always draw up the bed- 
 clothes with my left hand, which is a superstition 
 I have learned these ten years." This reminds us 
 of Johnson numbering the lamp-posts and counting 
 his steps from a given point to his dwelling, and 
 always entering with his left foot first. After this, 
 need we wonder that superstition has built the 
 cathedrals of Europe ? 
 
 Another phase of his character was benevolence. 
 The first money he could call his own he gave out in 
 small loans to the distressed but deserving poor, and 
 thus saved two hundred families from ruin, and 
 placed them in a comfortable way of life. He 
 badged the city beggars, anticipating the organisa- 
 tion of charitable societies. For years he kept a 
 levde in the Deanery, attended by the Lord Lieutenant 
 
ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER. 355 
 
 downwards ; and in the lanes of Dublin he kept a 
 " seraglio " of distressed old women. He named 
 them partly from distinction and partly from whim. 
 One was Cancerina, another Stumpeana, and a third 
 PoUagowan, and so on. Stories innumerable are 
 told how he helped these poor old creatures in many 
 ways. To some he gave the wherewithal to open 
 little shops, frequently visiting and purchasing from 
 them trifling articles at three times their value. To 
 others he gave money, never more than one piece at 
 a timej and for that reason carried a pocketful of 
 small silver coin of different value. Delany says 
 " that Swift was munificent in his charities." These 
 words are true. He founded some of the noblest 
 charities, and did countless acts of generosity, secretly 
 and delicately ; lending money to Gay, giving it to 
 Harrison, pensioning Mrs. Dingley, purchasing glebe 
 lands at Laracor to enrich his successors, and at last 
 bequeathing his all to build a madhouse. Bene- 
 volence was the secret of Swift's economy, "which 
 fools mistook for avarice." 
 
 Swift often complained of ingratitude, but I be- 
 lieve that he owed more than he himself knew to 
 the character which he had acquired for benevolence. 
 
 Swift has been denounced as a misanthrope ; if 
 he was, " he was one of the kindliest that ever lived ; " 
 he had a deep side of tenderness. 
 
 Bolingbroke and Oxford, who had been kind to 
 him, though the one was in exile and the other in 
 the Tower, he never mentioned without emotion. 
 
 Who can forget the scene of Sheridan's removal 
 
3S6 SWIFT. 
 
 from Dublin ? In the little parlour, where with 
 Sheridan he had spent so many pleasant hours, as 
 the last picture was taken from the wall. Swift retired 
 into a closet weeping like a child. 
 
 His likings and dislikings were often strange and 
 startling. 
 
 He cared not for fame ; he appraised it at its 
 true worth — he knew it was only notoriety. When 
 bells were ringing, and bonfires blazing, and pro- 
 cessions marching to the sound of music in honour 
 of his birthday, he scornfully refused to accept the 
 proffered homage, retiring into his closet to curse 
 and to pray. To him " it was an anniversary of un- 
 mitigated sadness." 
 
 He cared not for music. To Lady Carteret he 
 writes : "I would not give sixpence for all the music 
 in the universe." 
 
 He cared not for money ; he never gave a 
 thought to the money value of his works; "Pope 
 and Mrs. Barber might have it and welcome." "If 
 Heaven," he said, " had looked upon riches to be 
 valuable, they would not have been given to so many 
 scoundrels." One of the most memorable utterances 
 of Swift was that a man should have money in his 
 head but not in his heart. He himself " put not his 
 trust in money, but put his money in trust." 
 
 He had no likings for translators. "1 am a 
 little angry," he said, "when those who have genius 
 lay it out in translations," 
 
 He cared not for luxurious feeding. He would 
 enjoy a herring with the Vans, or bacon and beans 
 
ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER. 357 
 
 with Addison, as much as he did turtle with the 
 Premier. When Bolingbroke sent him the menu 
 of a luxurfous dinner/ " Pooh ! " replied Swift, " I 
 care nothing for your bill of fare, send me a bill of 
 your company." 
 
 His likings were as peculiar as his dislikings. 
 '' He liked love disguised. 
 The books he liked best were classical, historical, 
 and biographical, in which, like Lord Eldon's sheep's- 
 head, there was a deal of good confused eating. 
 
 He was fond of physical exercise. He enjoyed 
 walking, but preferred riding, thinking it good for 
 the liver and the brain. To Archbishop King he 
 writes that he " rowed after health like a waterman, 
 and rode after it like a postboy.'' 
 
 He adored the Church of England; "he not only 
 worshipped in it, but worshipped it." Yet the one 
 grand mistake of his life was going into the Church. 
 The clerical robe was not for him ; it impeded his 
 career. As a religionist. Swift loved traditionalism, 
 not rationalism. What creed meant to him we 
 cannot quite know. This, at least, we do know, 
 that he treated the Thirty-nine Articles as the whale 
 did Jonah — swallowed, but could not digest them. 
 
 He loved purity. 
 
 SwinburneaccusesCarlyle of indecency. Thackeray 
 accuses Swift of indelicacy. Mistaken judgments. 
 Swift never penned a line with the deliberate inten- 
 tion of pandering to lewdness, but to disgust the 
 vicious with licentiousness. The very purity of Swift 
 makes him appear, to the superficial, seemingly impure. 
 
3S8 SWIFT, 
 
 He loved to analyse the actions of humankind, and 
 pry into their ways of life. His eye was keen and 
 penetrating; he saw with perfect clearness not merely 
 through the shams and subterfuges, but " through the 
 degrading conditions of physical existence as well." 
 The vision was not healthy ; Shakespeare's descrip- 
 tion of Cassius fits Swift admirably : 
 
 . . . He reads much, 
 
 Is a great observer ; and quite 
 
 Looks through the deeds of men. 
 
 This was the secret of Swift's misanthropy. 
 
 He had intense sympathy with suffering humanity. 
 This was the secret of his savageness. 
 
 Swift's dislikings were as emphatic as his likings. 
 Swift was a good hater. He hated insincerity. He 
 was never insincere himself. Even his dislike of 
 humanity, although unreasonable, was sincere. 
 
 He hated hypocrisy. He was, as Bolingbroke 
 said, " a hypocrite reversed." His adroit and nimble 
 mind could quickly detect it in others. " I renounce 
 your philosophy," he said to Bolingbroke, " because 
 it is not your practice." He kept a calendar of 
 friends, in which he classified them as " ungrateful, 
 indifferent, and doubtful." 
 
 He cared not for public opinion ; his contempt of 
 it had a sort of grandeur in it To Archbishop King 
 he writes : " My comfort is that contempt in Ireland 
 will have no sort of mortification for me." 
 
 He hated the country that gave him birth. Ire- 
 land he called " a scoundrel island," Dublin " a city 
 of idiots." 
 
 He hated cant. Johnson's denunciation of cant 
 
ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER. 359 
 
 and Carlyle's denunciation of shams were but feeble 
 echoes of the scathing gospel first promulgated in 
 the world by Swift. 
 
 He hated wrong. His savage indignation at 
 wrong was his inspiration of sympathy for the 
 oppressed. 
 
 He was the pioneer of many things that have 
 tended towards the civilisation of humanity. 
 
 He was the first to assert with authority and 
 power the rights of women. 
 
 He was the first to anticipate free trade. 
 
 He was the first to establish the press in the 
 powerful position it has. since held. 
 
 He was the first to ring the death-knell of patron- 
 age in literature. 
 
 He was the first to anticipate the advent of 
 democracy. 
 
 He was the first to teach that a national dis- 
 turbance was sufficient cause for a change of Ministry, 
 but not for a revolution. 
 
 He was the first to teach "that Ireland might 
 become a nation, and that England must cease to 
 be a despot." 
 
 Well might Hazlitt say, " Swift takes a view of 
 human life as might be taken by a being of a higher 
 sphere." 
 
 He hated the world. 
 
 Swift was a pessimist ; but his pessimism was 
 very different from that of Carlyle. " Carlyle enjoyed 
 the good things in a bad world as best he could." 
 Not so with Swift. He hated the world and all it 
 contains, especially the animal called man. 
 
36o SWIFT. 
 
 Listen to him : 
 
 " Drown the world ; I am not content with 
 despising it. I would anger it if I could. I never 
 rise without finding life a more insignificant thing 
 than it was the day before. Life is a ridiculous 
 tragedy, a mad farce. It was never intended by God 
 to be a blessing. The bad and the stupid are the 
 best fitted for life. Our affections give us the finest 
 kind of happiness and the greatest misery in the 
 world. I almost wish that I never had a friend. 
 Virtue is generally a misfortune." 
 
 The logical outcome of such doctrine who could 
 tell } One thing seems certain^ that Swift was born 
 with a tendency to brain disease, the progress and 
 subtle development of which can be traced with 
 perfect accuracy through the whole course of his 
 life — a hfe which began in mystery, continued 
 in misery, and ended in madness. This, I think, 
 explains and excuses much in his career which 
 hitherto has been difficult to interpret. 
 
 Poor Swift 1 No one has been better known and 
 less understood. 
 
 I have endeavoured to sift his life with diligence, 
 to analyse it with sympathy, to interpret it with 
 judgment; yet conscious am I of inability "to rise 
 to the conception of such a character as Swift." 
 
 The contrasts that met in him are very striking, 
 almost incredible : 
 
 Of humble birth— The companion of kings ; 
 A dunce at school and college — " With the best brains 
 in Europe;" 
 
ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER. 361 
 
 At first, Temple's slave — Afterwards, Temple's master; 
 In penury — The dispenser of Royal patronage ; 
 Frugal in superfluities — Providing for the needy 
 
 necessaries ; 
 The reliever of indigence — The discourager of idleness; 
 A hater of humanity — A lover of individuals ; 
 A staunch friend — A bitter foe ; 
 A man of gigantic powers — A man of perfect trifles ; 
 Grimly earnest — Satirical in mocking humour; 
 A fury in wrath — Divine in pity ; 
 A Whig in politics — A Tory in Churchmanship ; 
 With no distinctive creed — The Church's greatest 
 
 champion ; 
 With no distinctive politics — The dictator of the 
 
 politics of England ; 
 Without hypocrisy — An inverted hypocrite ; 
 The applauder of genius — The scoffer of blockheads ; 
 The helper of merit- — ^The scourger of villains ; 
 The idol of Ireland^The terror of England. 
 
 Such was Swift. 
 
 " There is but one thing under heaven to which a 
 man should bow — Genius. There is but one thing 
 to which a man should kneel — Goodness;" and so 
 long as these gifts of mind remain the twin objects 
 of human aspiration, the memory of Jonathan Swift 
 will hold a permanent place in the Pantheon of 
 universal literature. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE I'REhS. 
 

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