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 v.1-2 
 Swift; selections from his works.Edited, 
 
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SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT 
 
 CRAIK 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
London 
 
 HENRY FRO\/DE 
 
 Oxford University Press Warehouse 
 
 Amen Corner, E.C. 
 
 112 Fourth Avenue 
 
SWIFT 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM HIS WORKS 
 
 EDITED WITH 
 
 Btfe, Jttfro&ucftona, anb Qtofca 
 
 HENRY CRAIK 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 AT THE CLARENDON PRESS 
 
o 
 
 btfox* 
 
 £> 
 
 'H\*\\ 
 
 PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS 
 BY .HORACE HART. PRINTKR TO THK UNIVERSITY 
 
CONTENTS OF VOLUME I 
 
 
 PAGF. 
 
 Life of Swift .... 
 
 I 
 
 Chronology of Swift's Life .... 
 
 37 
 
 Earlier Poems : 
 
 
 Introductory Note 
 
 39 
 
 Ode to Sancroft 
 
 40 
 
 Ode to King William . 
 
 49 
 
 Ode to the Athenian Society . 
 
 51 
 
 Ode to Sir William Temple 
 
 58 
 
 Earliest Prose : 
 
 
 Dissensions in Athens and Rome 
 
 61 
 
 A Tale of a Tub 
 
 75 
 
 The Battle of the Books 
 
 195 
 
 Journal to Stella 
 
 229 
 
 Contributions to the Examiner 
 
 333 
 
 Notes . . . . . 
 
 361 
 
ERRATUM 
 
 Page 196, 1. 30. For solitd read singulars. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 It is the aim of this Selection to give (as fully as the 
 exigencies of space and the taste of the present day permit) 
 specimens of the whole range of Swift's work, and to eluci- 
 date by notes what is obscure in intention or recondite in 
 allusion. It has been thought proper to begin the Selection 
 by specimens of his earlier poems, not only because they 
 illustrate the growth of his genius, but because they let 
 us see how severely, under the stress of circumstances 
 or disparaging criticism, Swift afterwards repressed a real 
 tendency towards more serious poetical aspirations. How- 
 ever faulty they are in construction, these early poems, it 
 is thought, give proofs that Swift might well have achieved 
 success in other than humorous or sarcastic verse. 
 
 The Selection does not strictly follow chronological order. 
 The First Volume embraces the chief specimens of his work 
 of a general kind, down to 17 12, and includes those letters 
 to Esther Johnson, which were never intended for publica- 
 tion, but which the reader would not readily spare, having 
 regard either to their biographical interest or to the perfec- 
 tion of the skill with which they convey the impression of 
 easy, natural, and affectionate intercourse and sympathy. 
 
 To the Second Volume is left the work of the remainder 
 of his life, and also specimens of those prose writings of 
 which the aim was special rather than general. It begins 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 with those ' Free Thoughts ' in which Swift gives us the 
 impression left upon him by the political scene which 
 he quitted in 17 14. Some of his Pamphlets on Religion 
 follow, shewing the characteristic features of his defence 
 of Christianity, his persistent dislike of the intellectual 
 complacency of a shallow latitudinarianism, and his appli- 
 cation to the duties of the clerical order of those principles 
 of balanced judgment, modesty, and good sense, which 
 he thought the best defence against fanatical enthusiasm. 
 The next section gives the most important of his writings 
 upon the wrongs of Ireland ; and the prose selections 
 close with the last of his great works of sarcastic humour 
 (Gulliver's Travels) and with a specimen (Hints on Con- 
 versation) of his treatment of a subject of common every- 
 day interest— restrained in tone, polished and luminous 
 in style, with that delicate perception of tact in social 
 intercourse so apparent to Swift's contemporaries, but 
 which a modern reader is apt to overlook amid the melan- 
 choly cynicism which generally pervades his work. The 
 Selection closes with such typical specimens of his lighter 
 verse as shew the perfection of its workmanship, and the 
 subordination of all other aims to those of delicate per- 
 siflage or fierce and contemptuous sarcasm. 
 
 The text of Swift often leaves room for doubt, and has 
 been treated with little care or attention by successive 
 editors. In this collection every endeavour has been made 
 to restore the most authoritative text with strict accuracy, 
 only modernizing archaicisms of spelling. 
 
 H. C. 
 
LIFE OF SWIFT. 
 
 Jonathan Swift was born on the 30th of November, 1667, 
 at a house in Hoey's Court, dose to the Castle, in Dublin. His 
 mother was then a widow, her husband having died, leaving her 
 in very poor estate, in the spring of that year. His father, also 
 named Jonathan, was the seventh or eighth son of the Rev. 
 Thomas Swift, Vicar of Goodrich, near Ross. The Dean of 
 St. Patrick's was ever more proud of this grandfather than 
 of any other of his name. The Vicar was descended from a 
 Yorkshire family of the name of Swifte, one of which stock is 
 commemorated in a sixteenth-century brass still existing in the 
 church of Rotherham. A branch of this Yorkshire family had 
 migrated to Kent, and from this branch was descended . the 
 Vicar of Goodrich. Born in 1595, he had married Elizabeth 
 Dryden, of Northamptonshire, niece to John Dryden's grand- 
 father, and by her had a large family. He was not only 
 Vicar, but a considerable landowner near Goodrich ; and the 
 house which he built to contain his large family— and which 
 fully merits the Dean's description of it as denoting ' the 
 builder to have been somewhat whimsical and singular ' — is still 
 standing. As the date over the door attests, it was built in 
 1636, and very soon after that date the Vicar was involved in 
 troubles that effectually broke his fortunes. The Dean's father 
 was born in 1640, and when he was still an infant the troubles 
 of the Civil War began. The Vicar was not of a sort to hold 
 aloof from the struggle. He became an ardent and pronounced 
 
 VOL. I. "JS.'i" B 
 
2 LIFE. [Aet. 3. 
 
 Royalist, was down on the Parliamentarian lists as a delin- 
 quent, carried arms to supply the Royal strongholds, and had 
 to defend his own house— fifty times, so it is said, plundered 
 from roof-tree to cellar— against the Roundhead marauders. 
 His family were treated with violence ; he was imprisone^hjs 
 living sequestrated; his cattle carried off; his propertyp^^ 
 dered or forfeited. Still clinging pertinaciously to the Royal, 
 cause, he carried all the money he could gather, quilted in his 
 waistcoat, as an offering to the King, even when all was lost at 
 Naseby. When the war ceased he was liberated, and appa- 
 rently left unmolested. But his property was lost; and when he 
 died, in 1658, he left his large family to seek their fortunes as 
 best they might. ^ 
 
 The eldest son, Godwin Swift, who had been tramed as a 
 lawyer in England, went to Ireland, where, in the settlement of 
 landed estates after the disturbances of the Civil War, there 
 was much work for a lawyer to do. He rose rapidly, partly 
 by an abundant practice and partly by more than one profitable 
 marriage. He became a wealthy man, and his success attracted 
 others of his brothers to follow his steps to Ireland. Amongst 
 these was his younger brother Jonathan, who, however, was 
 without his brother's prudence and business capacity. He 
 married, while yet very young, Abigail Erick, the dower,less 
 daughter of an old Leicestershire family, and secured a moderate 
 post, as Steward of the King's Inn, Dublin. First, a daughter 
 was born to the young couple ; and then, in the spring of 1667, 
 the young lawyer left his wife (then in expectation of a second 
 child) a widow. This second child was Jonathan Swift, Dean 
 of St. Patrick's, born on 30th Nov. 1667. 
 
 The widow was left without resources of her own, and she 
 and her children depended largely on the bounty of the suc- 
 cessful elder ^brother, Godwin; yet the house in which her 
 son was born was not so poor ^.s to suggest that she was left 
 uncared for or neglected. But the boy was destined for a time to 
 hVe beyond the reach of his uncle's charity. His nurse, having 
 to pay a visit to a dying relative at Whitehaven, took the infant 
 with her, and kept him there until he was more than three years 
 of age. There he learned to read : and he was fond, in later 
 
Aet. 3-18.] SWIFT'S BOYHOOD. 3 
 
 years, of dwelling on this early visit to England, as he thought 
 it took away something of what he held to be the stigma of his 
 Irish birth. When he came back to Dublin, it was only to spend 
 a short time with his mother : two years later he was sent by his 
 und^B Kilkenny School, and there, with William Cbngreve for 
 h^^mool-fellow, he remained until, at fourteen, he was entered 
 as a pensioner at Trinity College, Dublin. Justly or unjustly, 
 ^fcwift retained a bitter recollection of his boyhood and of the 
 niggardly charity doled out by his uncle Godwin; It would not 
 be fair to accept Swift's reminiscences, darkened by his natural 
 misanthropy, as a certain gauge of his uncle's conduct. Swift 
 treated his own past with little complacency of memory, and the 
 severe judapnent which he passed on himself perhaps tinctured 
 his judgment of others. Naturally Swift rebelled against the 
 somewhat slavish routine which then governed the College 
 studies. But the extent of his rebellion against rule is matter 
 of doubt : wearied, perhaps, with the common talk of early 
 genius emancipating itself by the force of its own superiority 
 from rule, he was wont to set down his College career in 
 plain terms as that of a dunce. The- stories of his rebellion 
 against rule are probably as exaggerated as those of his dulness. 
 A copy of the College roll for Easter 1685, recording the doings 
 of the undergraduates, has been preserved. Swift did 'badly' 
 in Physics: 'creditably' in Greek and Latin : 'carelessly' inhis 
 Theme. Strictly, such a result might have delayed his degree 
 for a year ; but ' by a special grace,' — which appears, indeed, 
 to have been of ordinary occurrence — this strict rule was not 
 enforced, and Swift proceeded to his degree in 1685. His 
 College career was not recalled by him with more pleasure 
 than his school days. The ordinary curriculum probably failed 
 to attract him, and the pursuit of subjects for which he 
 had no liking may possibly have left an after-impression of 
 natural dulness : but the full gloom of his reminiscences must 
 be ascribed to a sense of his dependence upon- the charity 
 of an uncle, who may have administered his assistance without 
 that delicacy which was necessary in one who patronized a spirit 
 such as Swift's. 
 When he had taken his degree, Swift, still unsettled as to his 
 
 B 2 
 
4 LIFE. [Aet. 18-23. 
 
 future course in life, pursued his reading, until the source even 
 of such charity as he had enjoyed, became dry. Godwin Swift 
 had apparently allowed his ambition to carry him too far : he 
 indulged in speculation ; his fortune dwindled, and with it his 
 faculties; he sank into insanity, and died in 1688. Some help 
 still continued to reach Swift from his cousin Willoughby, the 
 son of Godwin, who had sought fortune abroad : but dependence 
 had taught him thrift, and from this time Swift determined to 
 depend upon no one, and to use those faculties, whose extent, 
 nature and proper application were problems yet unsolved, to 
 gain for himself some means of livelihood. 
 
 The troublesome events that followed the Revolution in 
 Ireland made it needful for Swift to seek his fortune beyond 
 her shores, and his own inclination doubtless prompted him in 
 the same direction. His mother was now settled in Leicester, 
 and to her, from whom he had been so long parted, and who 
 continued to be the object of his tenderest love, the young 
 graduate, brooding over real or imagined wrongs, dominated by 
 passions, and stirred by a genius over which he had yet gained 
 no mastery, now came at the age of one and twenty. He says 
 himself of this period of his life, that ' a person of great honour 
 in Ireland (who was pleased to stoop so low as to look into my 
 mind) used to tell me that my mind was like a conjured spirit, 
 that would do mischief if I did not give it employment.' It is 
 curious to see the half sarcasm in Swift's reference, even at this 
 period, to ' persons of great honour ' : but whoever his Mentor 
 was, he gave a judgment which Swift's life proved only too true. 
 
 Leicester had no attraction for him, beyond the company of 
 his mother ; and even had it not been so, a livelihood must be 
 sought elsewhere. Sir William Temple's wife was a kinswoman 
 of Mistress Abigail Swift: to hmi, therefore, application for 
 employment was made, and made with success, and before 
 the close of 1689 Swift became an inmate of Temple's house 
 at Sheen. The dramatic contrast between the master and de- 
 pendant has afforded subject for many pictures of impressive 
 force. Temple, the astute diplomatist, the wary politician, 
 tempering his statesmanship by something of the doctrinaire 
 and something of the cynic ; spending his honourable retire- 
 
Aet. 22-24.] AT TEMPLE'S HOUSE. 5 
 
 ment in the elegant pursuits of literature and landscape garden- 
 ing, and employing his high social position, and the confidence 
 and friendship of the great, to enhance the grace of his literary- 
 patronage ; a god to his own circle, and respected beyond it, was 
 scarcely the sort of man who could have made a master after 
 Swift's own heart. But any irksomeness in the relation seems 
 only to have broken out occasionally, and (in spite of the half- 
 jocular reminiscence, ' Faith, he spoilt a fine gentleman ! ') Swift 
 looked back on his residence at Moor Park (the house near 
 Farnham in Surrey which Sir William Temple. had recently 
 acquired, and where he soon took up his abode) as fairly 
 pleasant. At first, Swift's position was humble enough : he 
 acted as amanuensis, and kept the household accounts. 
 
 But there was one in that circle whose name was to be linked 
 with that of Swift in one of the saddest tales by which the 
 annals of literary history have stirred and attracted human sym- 
 pathy. In a small house in the grounds of Moor Park, there 
 lived a Mistress Johnson, widow of a confidential servant of 
 Sir William Temple's. She had two young daughters : and of 
 these the elder was Esther Johnson, then eight years of age, 
 who in her name of Stella represents to posterity the most ro- 
 mantic and yet the most tragic thread that runs through the life 
 of Swift. Even in this earlier residence at Moor Park, which 
 lasted only a year, and when Swift, ' a raw and inexperienced 
 youth,' perhaps imagined slights and injuries which were not 
 intended, the child seems to have attracted his attention. But 
 either Temple was too pompous and self-satisfied to be endured, 
 or Swift's temper was too moody to be tolerated, and this early 
 residence soon came to an end. Swift returned for a time to 
 Ireland; found no opening there ; came back to Leicester, and 
 remained for a time in his- mother's house, and at last, after 
 an absence of a year and a half, again took up his residence 
 with Sir William Temple in the autumn of 1 691. This time 
 Swift's position was much improved. Both patron and de- 
 pendant had doubtless come to know one another better, and 
 to respect one another more By Temple's help he became 
 a graduate of Oxford : and, in his own words, ' growing into 
 some confidence, he was often trusted with affairs of great 
 
6 LIFE. [Aet. 24-25. 
 
 importance.' It was now that he saw more of the society which 
 Moor Park could show, and his opportunities even brought 
 him into contact with William III. The king, he tells us, 
 taught him, in some hour of easy intercourse, how 'to cut 
 asparagus after the Dutch fashion': and he was privileged on 
 one occasion to expound to William's mind, unaccustomed to 
 the intricacies of the English constitution, the expediency of 
 withdrawing his veto from the Triennial Bill. It was this inter- 
 course with the great ' that helped,' as Swift tells us, ' to cure 
 him of vanity.' 
 
 But at this time in his life, Swift was also cultivating the 
 literary faculty in a way that has a curious interest for us. ' He 
 writ and burnt, and writ again,' he informs a friend, "' upon all 
 manner of subjects, more than perhaps any man in England.' 
 His reading, too, was wide and discursive, and he had abundant 
 leisure for it. But the strangest feature of his literary activity 
 was his being caught by the infection of a fashionable freak 
 of taste. That 'Pindaric art' of Cowley's, which sank into 
 oblivion within a generation after Cowley's death, was now 
 attracting many imitators. After his example, the most obscure 
 form of Greek poetry, the merits of which are of all others the 
 most difficult for a modern to appreciate, was adopted as a 
 model; and in Dr. Johnson's words, 'all the boys and "girls 
 caught the pleasing fancy, and they who could do nothing else, 
 could write like Pindar.' Swift followed the prevailing fashion, 
 and, with the encouragement of his patron, he wrote Pindarics on 
 Archbishop Sancroft's non-juring fidelity, in honour of Sir William 
 Temple, and to the Athenian Society — a pedantic gathering 
 of projectors in the sphere of social science, the idea of which 
 had taken rise in the whimsical brain of one John Dunton, a 
 half-mad publisher, whose principal business in life was 'to 
 think or perform something out of the beaten road,' and whose 
 many escapades in literature and politics form altogether one of 
 the strangest pictures in a strange age. But curious as was 
 this passing episode in Swift's literary career, these Pindaric 
 poems are not to be passed over by any one who would trace 
 the growth of his genius. The satire, the brooding melancholy, 
 the abhorrence of the 'lumber of the schools,' the contempt 
 
-Aet. 25-26.] SWIFT'S EARLY POEMS. 7 
 
 for 'the wily shafts of state, the juggler's tricks '—are all there 
 as in his later writings. But they are mixed up with a constant 
 obscurity of expression as well as of thought, with a painful 
 effort after metaphysical involvement, with a recurrence of 
 pedantic conceits by way of metaphor, which are all strangely 
 in contrast with Swift's later manner. 
 
 Such were the early poetic attempts which Swift, eventually 
 the most masculine and luminous of English authors, now sub- 
 mitted, according to the common story, to the criticism of his 
 kinsman Dryden, then in the plenitude of his literary dictator- 
 ship. The prophetic rebuff by which they were received, 
 ' Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet,' was never forgotten nor 
 forgiven by Swift. 
 
 With these early efforts we may join such occasional poems 
 as he addressed to the king, to Congreve, and to Sir William 
 Temple on his recovery from illness. Not one of them is 
 without a biographical interest, or without some revelation of 
 the development of Swift's literary genius, and no collection 
 professing to be representative of Swift's works can omit all 
 specimens of these. They illustrate, above all, the deep melan- 
 choly which never left him even in the most busy scenes of his 
 life, and which had its root and groundwork in mood and 
 character, and derived strength and confirmation in a congenital 
 malady from which he suffered. This was caused by a_struc- 
 tural malformation near the brain, that dulled his hearing, 
 pfbduceoTrits of^giddiness and uncontrollable depression, and 
 eventually overcame his reason. But as yet its attacks were 
 only intermittent : and soon his genius was led into more 
 practical and congenial lines, by the necessity of bestirring 
 himself to make his way in larger scenes than those of Moor^ 7 / 
 Park. </ 
 
 But Moor Park had already done much for him. It had 
 removed him from Ireland which he cordially hated, and from 
 that dependence on the bounty of others which had tried his 
 spirit. It had given him leisure and opportunity for study on 
 the lines which his own taste dictated. But more than all, it had 
 ""brought him into close contact with men who had played, or 
 were still playing, great parts in history, and had thus at. once 
 
8 LIFE. [Aet. 2f. 
 
 stimulated his interest in affairs, and occasionally fed his sar- 
 castic humour. The contrast between, the greatness of the 
 interests involved, and the smallness of many of those to whom 
 the nation's welfare was entrusted, was first impressed upon him 
 now, and never afterwards left him. To this early acquaintance 
 with the practical working of State affairs Macaulay has rightly 
 ascribed much of the vivid interest which marks off Swift's from 
 all other political pamphlets. 
 
 But his future career was still undecided. An offer from the 
 king of a captaincy of dragoons, had suggested one choice which 
 would certainly have led to strange results had Swift closed with 
 it. Sir William Temple offered a small post connected with his 
 own sinecure office of the Rolls at Dublin. That offer was 
 declined, as probably it was expected to be : but the fact of its 
 having been made cleared away a scruple which Swift had 
 conceived against entering the Church merely as a source of 
 livelihood which could be earned in no other career. He had 
 early turned his thoughts in this direction, and the obtaining of 
 a degree at Oxford probably confirmed the wish. The king had 
 given him some hopes of Church preferment, as he did not 
 incline to a military life ; and the non-fulfilment of these hopes 
 caused him acute disappointment some years later. It was in 
 1694 that his choice was made : and after another visit to his 
 mother at Leicester, he crossed to Dublin, in some anger at 
 what he conceived to be Temple's backwardness in rewarding 
 his services. Before ordination, he found himself obliged, how- 
 ever, to apply to Temple for a certificate of good conduct during 
 the years which had passed since he took his degree. The humble 
 letter in which this certificate was asked for was one which it must 
 have cost Swift a bitter pang to write ; but the request was 
 promptly granted, and on 25th October, 1694, Swift was ordained 
 a deacon by the Bishop of Kildare, and proceeded to priest's 
 orders on the 13th of January, 169JJ. In the same month he was 
 presented by Lord Capel to the prebend of Kilroot near Belfast. 
 The Irish Church, when he entered her ranks, was in a condition 
 far from flourishing : the Church of a minority, if she was able 
 to triumph in the abasement of her Roman Catholic rival, she 
 was yet taught to feel that by English politicians she was 
 
Aet. 27-29] THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 9 
 
 expected to play the part of a submissive instrument of party 
 supremacy, which paid as little regard to her own rights as it 
 did to the feelings and interests of the Irish race. 
 
 His own living was a poor one, and the fact that it was 
 placed in a district where Presbyterianism was in the ascendant, 
 did not improve it in the eyes of Swift. The scene was a poor 
 contrast to what he had been used to at Moor Park, and it did 
 not detain him long. In May, 1696, he entrusted the duties to 
 a substitute, and returned once more to his old home with 
 Temple. 
 
 Swift had now acquired a profession and an independence, 
 poor as it was. The months of retirement at Kilroot had 
 enabled him to take a measure of his own powers. On this 
 third visit to Moor Park, he came no longer as the humble 
 servitor, but as a friend, associated with his patron in literary 
 pursuits and controversies, and prepared to engage the attention 
 of the world by achievements more unique and remarkable than 
 the Pindaric verses in which he had poured out the gloom of an 
 unsettled and restless spirit. 
 
 By this time Swift had written the Tale of a Tub : but this 
 was not to be his first contribution to the prose literature of the 
 day. He began to mix more directly in politics : and the first 
 statesman to whom he attached himself was the veteran plotter 
 Sunderland, then tottering to his fall. But Swift had other 
 designs on foot : and to pursue these, he resigned altogether the 
 living at Kilroot, which he had held for little more than a year. 
 Before long he was to be attracted into the arena of political 
 controversy. But now chance threw in his way an opportunity 
 for intervening in a literary affray which exactly suited his 
 taste. The famous struggle between the Ancients and Moderns 
 will be dealt with more fully in another part of this volume. 
 At present it is enough to say that Sir William Temple had 
 found himself, by an unlucky allusion in one of his elegant but 
 inexaet essays, involved in the thickest of the fray, as a sup- 
 jpat ter of the claims of the Ancients. The combatants on the 
 other side were numerous, and at their head stood one so well 
 equipped for the fight as Bentley. To meet such a doughty 
 champion of the Moderns, with his own weapons, was given to 
 
IO LIFE. [Aet. 29-33. 
 
 no one then living in England. But Swift could force the 
 battle into other lines. He could discard details, and draw it 
 into the wider arena of human interest, where his wide-reaching 
 humour could have free play. It was this he did, when he 
 appeared as Temple's champion in the Battle of the Books — 
 the one enduring and immortal fragment that survives to call 
 attention to the once so hotly contested battle-field. At this 
 period the tract — for it is little more — was written : but as yet 
 it was only handed about amongst Temple's literary friends, and 
 did not come before the public until a later day. - ^ 
 
 On the 27th of January, i6$f, Sir William Temple died^Slldr- 
 One period of Swift's life closed. Temple's will appointed Swift 
 to the rather irksome post of his literary executor, a post 
 specially thankless when the remains have been rated by the 
 testator at a higher value than that which the world is disposed 
 to attach to them. This was notably the case with Temple's 
 works. 
 
 Swift had now to find other patrons, or to make his way 
 alone. The expectations of preferment from the king were dis- 
 appointed ; and, in the want of anything better, Swift accepted 
 the post of Secretary to Lord Berkeley, then proceeding to the 
 government of Ireland. He had conceived that this appoint- 
 ment would lead to more : but disappointment followed dis- 
 appointment, and Swift was at length compelled to accept the 
 joint livings of Laracor, Agher, and Rathbeggan in Meath, 
 which yielded him, in all, an income of some .£200 a year. 
 He continued, however, to form one of Lord Berkeley's house- 
 hold, and by more than one jeu d'esprit in his most playful 
 manner, he proves that disappointment did not prevent this 
 residence being a time of cheerfulness. ' Parson Swift ' was the 
 chartered satirist of the company, and retained, in much later 
 years, the intimacy with the family which was then established. 
 Before he returned with Lord Berkeley to England, in 1701, 
 Swift took the degree of Doctor of Divinity. 
 
 Just at this moment, a violent struggle was in progress be- 
 tween the Whigs and the Tories. Jealousy of William's Dutch 
 favourites, of the King's attachment to his native country, and 
 the prospect of England's being involved in foreign war for the 
 
Aet. 33-34-1 SWIFT DEFENDING THE WHIGS. 1 1 
 
 sake of that country, had inflamed the popular feeling to such 
 an extent as to give the Tories, then in opposition, an admirable 
 opportunity for attack upon the Whig ministers. In February 
 170^ an election had given the Tories a decisive majority in 
 the Commons. A violent attack upon William's Partition 
 Treaty followed, and an impeachment was resolved upon 
 against Lord Somers, the Earl of Portland, the Earl of Orford, 
 and Lord Halifax. They were the statesmen of the Whig 
 party who stood highest in character, in ability, and in personal 
 attachment to the King : and the blow struck at them was in 
 reality aimed at William, and was inspired by not a little Jaco- 
 bite intent. The situation was now at its worst, and none could 
 foretell to what extravagances party rancour might proceed. 
 At this juncture Swift arrived. His first direct intervention in 
 political strife was as the anonymous author of a tract, On the s 
 Dissensions at Athens and Rome, which drew a parallel between*' 
 the existing state of things and some of the violent outbursts 
 by which the Athenians and the Romans made wreck of their 
 liberties. 
 
 The Tory triumph was short-lived. The acknowledgment of 
 the Pretender by Louis XIV roused all the Anti-Catholic 
 fervour of the nation. William found himself once more hailed 
 as the Saviour of the People. He could safely appeal to the 
 polling booths: and a new election in November 1 701, made 
 that party triumphant whose leaders Swift had likened to the 
 loftiest characters in Athenian and Roman history. His author- 
 ship, at first doubtful, and then, it would appear, generally 
 recognised, secured for Swift friends of power in the dominant 
 faction, and he might reasonably have cherished the hope of 
 rapid and secure advancement. 
 
 Swift returned to his home in Ireland in the autumn of 1 701 ; 
 and it marks his sense that Ireland was, for some years at least, 
 to be his permanent abiding-place, that, by his persuasion, 
 Esther Johnson, and her companion, Rebecca Dingley, came 
 over to Ireland to reside in his neighbourhood, and to continue 
 that bond of untiring and unselfish affection which was to link 
 the name of Stella for ever with that of Swift, in a tie that was 
 not less close than it was mysterious. 
 
12 
 
 LIFE. [Aet. 34-37- 
 
 The church and vicarage of Laracor, which now became 
 Swift's home, were situated about a mile and a half from the 
 prosperous town of Trim, in West Meath. There was little in 
 the neighbourhood to attract Swift, and his congregation num- 
 bered only about half-a-score— 'most gentle and all simple,' 
 as he has himself described them. The great majority of the 
 humbler classes were Roman Catholics, but Swift felt no such 
 bitter feelings against them as the Presbyterians about Kilroot, 
 aggressive in the confidence of Whig support, had inspired in 
 him. A few friends, such as Dr. Raymond of Trim, formed, 
 with Esther Johnson and her companion, his circle of acquaint- 
 ance. He busied himself with improvements in his garden 
 and his fish canal — whflli perhaps recalled to him the associ- 
 ations of Moor Park : Jut the scene was scarcely such as could 
 afford employment to a/temperament like his. He was back in 
 England on another visit in the spring of 1702, to find that, with 
 the accession of Queen Anne, the Tories had recovered power. 
 Interest therefore combined with Swift's own inclinations to 
 make him sit lightly towards his short-lived alliance with the 
 Whigs. The Whigs had offended him by their scarcely con- 
 cealed opposition to the Church claims ; the Toties satisfied 
 him by their abundant concessions to these claims, which Swift 
 felt it part of hi^ duty as a clergyman at all times to maintain. 
 There was not, indeed, as yet, any formal breach between him 
 and the Whig party, who showed him abundance of civility. 
 But Swift speaks bitterly of the excess of party feeling : and 
 such bitterness was with Swift, as it commonly is with other 
 men, symptomatic of a decline in party allegiance. 
 
 It was during a visit to London, in 1704, that Swift gave to 
 the public a volume containing not only the Battle of the 
 Books, which had already been handed about amongst Temple's 
 friends, but another work destined to make a greater mark in 
 literature and to have a greater influence upon his own future — the 
 Tale of a Tub. It was the first work in which Swift's genius had J 
 full play, and in which the enormous sweep of his satire is con- 
 spicuous. This is not the place for a minute description of the 
 book : but it is enough for the biographer of Swift to point out 
 that the allegory of the three brothers, who typify the three 
 
Aet. 37.] THE TALE OF A TUB. 1 3 
 
 modern forms of Christianity, forms a small part of the whole. 
 The satire is really directed against the foibles of humanity as 
 a whole — foibles which reappear in each new age and under 
 various guises, and which make pride ridiculous even at the 
 moment when it is most convinced of its own superiority to the 
 weakness which it readily detects in others. It shows in per- 
 fection Swift's marvellous power of sustained satire, overwhelm- 
 ing in its contempt at once the more obvious follies and the 
 wit that would fain despise these follies. Those who aspire 
 to fame, and those who are its arbiters ; "those who miss and 
 those who attain it ; the dull and the stupid, as well as the Wit- 
 woulds who look down upon them ; the sceptics and the fana- 
 tics — all are alike brought to the bar of judgment, and dis- 
 missed with a sentence whose severity is merged in its scathing 
 contempt — even as in his own verses on the Day of Judgment, 
 Swift pictures Jove as dismissing the crowd of^inners from the 
 judgment-seat, with a sneer at the absurdist which could 
 suppose that Jove would trouble himself to damrAsuch a sorry 
 crowd. J 
 
 The Tale of a Tub, which appeared in 1704, coflld scarcely 
 fail to attract attention ; and Swift soon found that his audience 
 was a large one. The wider range of the satire could scarcely, 
 in any age, attract popular attention. But it is one of the 
 peculiarities of Swift's satire that its more obvious points have 
 made it popular even with those who could scarcely be expected 
 to grasp its whole meaning. So it is that the Travels of Gulliver 
 — the bitterest satire ever penned upon human nature — has 
 become the companion of children in every succeeding age : and 
 so, in 1704, those who were blind to the deeper allusions and the 
 more savage cynicism of the Tale of a Tub, were attracted by 
 the more salient and obvious parallels which he drew. The 
 story of Peter,- Martin and Jack, is droll enough in itself, but 
 poor when it is compared with the digressions : yet it attracted 
 a popular audience and became current in the mouths of men. 
 Unfortunately for Swift, it was just the part of his work which 
 was most calculated to give offence. Those who saw the most 
 solemn truths of religion treated as a jest, were not likely to 
 have their regard for Swift as a clergyman increased, and 
 
14 LIFE. [Aet. 37-38. 
 
 Swift's worldly prospects suffered from the belief in his author^, 
 ship which soon became widely spread. Itwasa p art of _tha{ 
 trait in Swift's character = -Jiis-s.trange_callcrasness to the feeling| 
 of other men— thatled him here to offend, aTmOst-imconsciousl^| 
 the deepest religious feeling, just as it allowed him, in anothejj 
 sphere, to stain his works with a coarseness, which is all ths 
 more noisome because it is absolutely apathetic. ,< 
 
 The book appeared anonymously, and in some quarters the 
 authorship was held as doubtful. But such doubts did not 
 prevail very long, or very widely, and their renewal in later 
 years, by Dr. Johnson in a casual conversation, serves rather 
 as an instance of literary paradox than as an expression of 
 deliberate judgment. It is clear that very soon after its publi- 
 cation, Swift was credited with the book, and its authorship, 
 according to a very probable story, injured his prospects of 
 promotion in the Church. Swift was always indignant at the 
 charge of irreverence brought against him. He was probably 
 unconscious of the offence contained in that part of his book 
 which had drawn the charge upon him : but, be that as it may, 
 he no doubt hesitated to put forward too decisively his claims to 
 the authorship of a work which had acquired such a reputation. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the political world, changes were going on 
 which were destined greatly to affect Swift's relations to the 
 Whig party. Toryism was losing its influence : the Govern- 
 ment, under the influence of Godolphin and Marlborough, was 
 gradually becoming more Whiggish in character. In England 
 the Tories had failed to carry the Bill against Occasional Con- 
 formity, which was intended to increase the influence of the 
 Church ; in Ireland, the Whig influence was dominant, and 
 there also the Church was made to suffer. The Ministry were 
 strengthened by the renown of Marlborough's victories, and 
 the new election of 1705 gave them a strong majority. But the 
 struggle between the two parties turned now chiefly on those 
 privileges of the Church of which Swift was a consistent de- 
 fender. Previous ties, and the uncertainty of the future, might 
 prevent him for the time from breaking his party connexion : 
 but undoubtedly by this time the elements of a breach were 
 present. As yet, however, there was no such alienation as 
 
Aet. 38-41.] PARTY- STRUGGLES. 15 
 
 rendered Swift's intercourse with his Whig friends impossible : 
 he was on terms of the closest intimacy with Addison and 
 Congreve, and the advice of the former was frequently followed 
 in those lighter pieces, such as the poem of Baucis and Phi- 
 lemon, which now came from his pen. No man had less of the 
 irritable vanity of authorship, which resents criticism, than 
 Swift. 
 
 As the Ministry became more strong, their Whig leanings 
 became more pronounced, and their attitude of hostility to the 
 High Church party was more declared. In 1707, the Earl of 
 Pembroke, whose attitude is most clearly shown by the fact that 
 he was the patron of Locke, was appointed Lord Lieutenant of 
 Ireland ; and though Swift remained on friendly terms with the 
 Castle, he must have been offended by the policy which pro- 
 mised the abolition of tests because they were irksome to the 
 Presbyterians. At the close of the same year, Swift went to 
 England on a mission to secure certain pecuniary benefits to his 
 Church : but however civilly he was received, he found that 
 the mission advanced little under the auspices of a Whig 
 government. His irritation was increased by his failure to 
 secure the appointment of the Bishopric of Waterford ; and 
 Swift, however magnanimous in his surrender of literary fame, 
 was almost morbidly bitter on the subject of his own neglect in 
 the way of ecclesiastical preferment. 
 
 Just as his personal grounds for irritation were strongest, the 
 Whig attitude of the Government became more pronounced. 
 The alarm of an invasion on behalf of the Pretender enabled 
 them to cast off all disguise. The Ministry was purged of 
 Tories ; and in the shuffle of offices, Lord Wharton, whose 
 principles were notoriously adverse to the Church, and whose 
 character was that of a professed libertine, was appointed to 
 succeed Pembroke as Governor of Ireland. That the Test was 
 to be abolished was sufficiently distasteful to Swift, but that 
 this was to be accomplished by one whose life was openly scan- 
 dalous, increased his wrath. In December, 1708, he wrote the 
 Letter on the Sacramental Test, which really amounted to a 
 declaration of war against the Whigs. It is the first of those 
 tracts in which Swift's skill in political controversy was fully 
 
16 LIFE. [Aet. 41-43. 
 
 displayed. There are three other tracts, belonging to the same 
 period in his life, which all show the same attitude of anger 
 towards that complacent and superficial latitudinarianism which 
 he now identified with the Whigs and with their ecclesiastical 
 allies. These are the Argument against Abolishing Chris- 
 tianity, the Project for the Advancement of Religion, and the 
 Sentiments of a Church of England Man. 
 
 It was at this juncture in Swift's life that the Government, 
 whose supremacy was already a good deal shaken by the 
 tediousness of a war that seemed to be pursued much more for 
 the interests of the Allies than for that of England, gave an 
 advantage to their opponents by a signal act of folly. Dr. 
 Sacheverell, of St. Saviour's, Southwark, who had already 
 obtained a certain notoriety as a preacher of somewhat tawdry 
 eloquence, delivered a sermon on the 15th of November, 1709, 
 before the Lord Mayor, in which he reflected, in no obscure 
 terms, upon the Ministry, and especially upon Godolphin. He 
 boldly attacked them as insidious foes of the Church, and called 
 upon the nation to rally to its defence. The ferment which the 
 sermon created, when printed, would soon have been forgotten 
 had not the Ministers determined to give Sacheverell the 
 gratuitous advertisement of prosecution. His trial became the 
 centre of all interest : and the preacher became the object of an 
 adulation which he certainly in no way merited, but which served 
 as a rallying-point for all the friends of the Church. Marl- 
 borough's ambition, and his wife's overweening pride, had 
 alienated the Queen, and her feelings now coincided with the 
 change in the attitude of the populace. In despair of any other 
 policy, the Ministers became still more eager in prosecuting the 
 war, and more decided in resisting any overtures for peace. 
 Swift returned to England in September, i/fo, to find that 
 Godolphin was dismissed and Parliament on the eve of dis- 
 solution, and that the staunch Tory, Robert Harley, was named 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
 
 At first the Whigs, as he says himself, were ' ravished to see 
 him,' and received him with every appearance of civility. But 
 Swift valued little these professions of 'declining courtiers.' 
 The Tories were making overtures ; ' he could make his fortune,' 
 
Aet. 43-44-] THE TORIES IN POWER. I J 
 
 as they hinted, 'if he pleased': 'but,' he adds, 'I do not 
 understand them— or rather — I do understand them.' Con- 
 viction, interest, and personal irritation all moved him one way : 
 and that way was soon chosen. On the 4th of October, 1710, 
 he was 'brought privately to Mr. Harley, who received him 
 with the greatest respect and kindness imaginable.' Swift was 
 not impervious to the flattery of men in high station, however 
 much his real inferiors : and at this interview the die was cast. 
 Swift entered upon his task as the chief defender of the Queen's 
 new Ministers. 
 
 The change involved no surrender of principle. Swift's early 
 associations had led him naturally towards the Whigs : but his 
 temperament never allowed him to have any close sympathy 
 with them. His Irish experience had developed the lack of 
 sympathy into positive dislike. The neglect of his petition on 
 behalf of the Irish Church gave him ground for umbrage, and 
 personal ingratitude, or what he deemed, to be such, had em- 
 bittered this feeling. Accidental circumstances brought to Swift, 
 at this moment, a tempting opportunity for change : and he 
 responded to the overtures of Harley with no thought that 
 any sacrifice of conscience or of independence was involved 
 therein. 
 
 He was speedily plunged deep in the business of defence. 
 The Ministry, as he himself expressed it, ' stood upon a narrow 
 isthmus.' They were attacked with natural rancour by the 
 Whigs : but the tide of Tory feeling, exaggerated in its strength, 
 was in itself an equal danger. It might easily carry them upon 
 quicksands where they would be wrecked. Swift had, therefore, 
 not only to meet the attacks of the defeated foe, but to moderate 
 the enthusiasm of unwise adherents. He saw the chief hope of 
 the Ministry to lie in the formation of a national party, midway 
 between extremes, and appealing to the broad sympathies of 
 the people. The Church and her defence was to be a rallying 
 cry : but this was to be strengthened by the protection of 
 national welfare, by the encouragement of the landed interest, and 
 by consistent opposition to the monied class which was thriving 
 on the national debt, and which Swift represented as rejoicing 
 in the continuance -of a war which it was England's best policy 
 
 VOL. 1. C 
 
1 8 LIFE. [Aet. 44-45. 
 
 to bring to a close. He maintained the fight in the pages of the 
 Examiner, a paper to which he continued to write from Novem- 
 ber, 1 7 io, to June of the next year. During that period the paper 
 became the chief political organ of the day. The successful 
 fight which Swift maintained tided the Ministry over the critical 
 period when they were still new to power : and the gratitude 
 due to such a defender made Swift the chosen intimate and 
 confidential adviser of Harley, St. John, and the Lord Chan- 
 cellor, Harcourt. 
 
 Accident confirmed the success which Swift's pen had done 
 so much to secure. A foreign adventurer, named Guiscard, who 
 had intrigued alternately with French and English, and whose 
 profligate life had brought him into some contact with St. John, 
 had obtained, through the influence of the new Secretary of 
 State, a pension from the Crown. It was insufficient, however, 
 to extricate him from overwhelming money difficulties : and, 
 beginning again his co,urse of political intrigue, he was arrested 
 on a suspicion of treason. Driven to frenzy, the poor wretch, 
 during his examination before the Privy Council, attacked and 
 wounded Harley. The wound and its consequences to Harley's 
 health were sufficiently serious to produce an illness of some 
 duration : and although the incident had no possible political 
 bearing, it was enough to increase Harley's popularity, and to 
 establish more securely that success which the Ministry had, by 
 Swift's help, already attained. It bound Swift to Harley by the 
 new tie of solicitude for one by whom he had been kindly treated 
 and for whom he had done much : and Swift became even more 
 closely identified with the Ministry than he had hitherto been. 
 
 Harley 'had grown,' as Swift puts it, 'by persecutions, turnings 
 out, and stabbings.' His influence was now, to all appearance, 
 supreme : he was created Earl of Oxford, and immediately after- 
 wards was named Lord Treasurer. His powers as a statesman 
 were very limited, and scarcely extended beyond the art of 
 political intrigue and the adroit management of party. He was 
 hesitating in action, and confused in thought : but Swift valued 
 him partly from his personal kindness to himself, and partly as the 
 opponent of those against whom he was now feeling the utmost 
 bitterness. Often as he was forced to chafe at lost opportunities, 
 
Aet. 44-45-] JOURNAL TO STELLA. 1 9 
 
 and at the intrusion of petty motives into great affairs, Swift 
 never visited upon his patron, either in word or in action, the 
 provocation he felt. 
 
 It is hard to say whether the world has gained or lost more by 
 Swift's engrossment, during three or four years, in the conduct 
 of affairs. Undoubtedly it prevented the exercise of his genius 
 in its most characteristic employment : and none of his greatest 
 works dates from this time. But on the other hand, it enormously 
 developed his knowledge of the world and of human motives : it 
 sharpened his sarcastic incisiveness and extended his grasp of 
 all forms of human baseness and folly : and it may be doubted 
 whether Gulliver could ever have been written had Swift not for 
 some years stood where he commanded a view, at once com- 
 prehensive and minute, into the mechanism of public affairs. 
 It is most certain that the Drapier letters, which have, by their 
 living force, kept alive the memory of an obscure and unim- 
 portant episode of Irish politics, would have lost half their 
 raciness had they not been inspired by the sting of party feeling 
 which the experience of these four years of Queen Anne's reign 
 had left rankling in Swift's mindj 
 
 But in the course of this period, Swift has left one monument, 
 which he would not himself have recognised as of any literary 
 value, but which the world, most assuredly, will never allow to 
 die. This is the Journal to Stella : a continuous series of letters 
 in which he depicts, for her who, in all his busy and bustling 
 surroundings, ever occupied the place closest to his heart, the 
 scenes in which he moved. Half the charm of the Journal 
 lies in its absolute ease and unconsciousness of effort; in the 
 humour alternately playful and sarcastic, in the pathos and the 
 anger, in the fierce self-assertion which would not conceal itself, 
 in the fidelity which made his genius the willing servant of 
 smaller men who played the part of his patrons — in a word, in 
 all those varying traits which reflect Swift's character so exactly, 
 and which let us see him at once in his pride, and in his 
 tenderness, in his power, and in his weakness. We see him as 
 the confidant of ministers, and the dispenser of patronage : as 
 the frequenter of the Court, and the companion of the great, and, 
 again, as the boon companion of the victors and the vanquished 
 
 C 2 
 
20 
 
 LIFE. [Aet. 44-45. 
 
 in the world of letters ; as the friend of Addison, of Congreve, 
 of Atterbury, of Arbuthnot, of Pope ; as the protector of Parnell 
 and others more obscure who had fallen into misfortune : and 
 as the fierce combatant, who enjoyed recounting his triumphs 
 to the one listener, so far removed, for whom all that affected 
 him was the first interest of life. 
 
 The struggle which the Ministry were maintaining now 
 turned on one absorbing question, that of Peace or War. The 
 conduct of the war had not only carried on the traditions which 
 the Whigs had received from William III, but had also shed 
 lustre on that party by the victories of Marlborough. But these 
 victories had, of late, been less conspicuous, and it was difficult 
 to see how English interests were any longer involved in main- 
 taining the cause of an aspirant to the Spanish throne whose 
 claims were opposed by the voice of almost all the Spaniards, 
 and whose accession would disturb the balance of power almost 
 as seriously as that of Philip, the member of the Bourbon " 
 family whom we had spent so much treasure and so many 
 lives to keep from a throne to which he was called by prepon- 
 derating national feeling in the Spanish peninsula. The monied. 
 classes appeared to find their advantage in the war, and in 
 the large extension it was giving to the national debt : but 
 the landed classes found no profit to themselves in pursuing 
 a contest in which the interests of our allies seemed to be so 
 much more involved than our own. Much national feeling 
 thus supported the Tory Ministers in their wish to bring to an 
 end a war which was their inheritance from their predecessors, 
 which was troublesome and costly, and the continuance of 
 which would weigh in favour of the Whigs. 
 
 In the autumn of 171 1 there appeared the most important 
 contribution to the controversy which was now dividing the 
 \ nation, on the subject of Peace or War. This was Swift's 
 ^Conduct of the Allies. It was the most powerful political tract 
 which he had yet written : and little as it is burdened with 
 facts or statistics, it is clear that Swift had made abundant and 
 careful use of the official documents which had been placed at his 
 command. These gave to the pamphlet much of its strength 
 and telling force : but its chief quality is the unrelenting in- 
 
Aet. 44-45-] THE CONDUCT' OF THE ALLIES. 21 
 
 dignation with which it is inspired, and which is al the more 
 telling from the rapidity with which it was written. Its first 
 note is struck when he appeals from the ' Echo of the London 
 Coffee-house' to the 'Voice of the Nation.' 'We have been 
 principals,' he says, ' when we ought to have been auxiliaries : 
 we have fought where we ought not, and have abstained where 
 our interests were at stake : we have allowed those allies, who 
 charge us with deserting them, to be false to every engagement 
 made with us. We have persevered, until we lie under the 
 burden of fifty millions of debt. We have gained victories, which 
 have brought to us nothing but barren renown, and now we are 
 expiring " of a hundred good symptoms." ' The blind prosecution 
 of a war that cost us much, but brought us nothing, he ascribes 
 to the rapacious greed of Marlborough : to the grasping of the 
 monied classes, to the anxiety of the Whig clique to cling to 
 emolument and office. ' We, the Tories, are the faithful steward, 
 resolved to put an end to the thoughtless extravagance of a 
 young heir, whose folly had been encouraged, until now, by 
 venal agents.' The suspicions of a plot in favour of Marl- 
 borough, to which popular credence was given, helped Swift 
 in pressing home his points. But the Ministry was weak in the 
 House of Lords ; and there very serious opposition had to be 
 met. Swift was almost ready to despair. But Oxford maintained' 
 his outward coolness, and events seemed to justify it. The un- 
 popularity of Marlborough increased : and on the 30th of 
 December he was deprived of his appointments. The creation 
 of new peers secured for the Ministers a majority in the House 
 of Lords, and Swift and those whom he supported breathed 
 more freely in the downfall of their most formidable enemy. 
 
 The negotiations for peace now proceeded more rapidly ; and 
 as the crisis approached, the bitterness of party feeling, in 
 which Swift was deeply involved, continued to increase. Baffled 
 in the struggle, the Whigs sought to prove that* the Peace was 
 only a convenient cloak for such concessions to France as 
 might bring about a Jacobite restoration. So far as Swift, at 
 least, was concerned, any thought of such a restoration was 
 entirely imaginary : but he repudiated wh«t was untrue so far 
 as he was personally concerned, with too much confidence as 
 
22 LIFE. [Aet. 45-46. 
 
 regarded some of the Ministers. Whatever change may have 
 come over Swift's party allegiance, he had not lessened by one 
 jot his attachment to the Protestant succession. But Jacobite 
 intentions were certainly not absent from the minds of some 
 amongst his political and literary friends : and Swift's fierce 
 repudiation argues rather his ignorance of some of their de- 
 signs, than any absolute knowledge that these designs were not 
 cherished. 
 
 At length, in April, 1713, the Peace of Utrecht was signed. 
 ' For the moment all seemed favourable for the Ministry. Swift 
 had borne the burden and heat of the day. Like many men so 
 employed, he found the chief triumph reaped by others, and he 
 had only the somewhat barren satisfaction of being treated with 
 distinction and deference by those whose battle he patT fought. 
 He had used his influence in many acts of kindness to strug- 
 gling brother-authors. In the midst of his hardest and most 
 exciting efforts he had cherished friendships that had sweetened 
 his life : above all he had kept up an unbroken intercourse with 
 the lonely home at Trim, where she who remained closest to his 
 heart was staying. Now that the struggle was over, Swift was 
 anxious to shake off the dust of the turmoil, and return to 
 Stella : and he justly claimed that reward, in the form of 
 clerical promotion, to which he felt that he was entitled. He 
 was growing contemptuous of the empty civilities of ministers ; 
 ' more of your lining, and less of your dining,' he grumbles, in 
 the Journal. But he found that influences were at work against 
 him, and had prejudiced him in the mind of the Queen. He 
 now pressed for a decision, and threatened his immediate de- 
 parture for Ireland, if his claims were not met. Some prefer- 
 ments were vacant, and it was clear that, now or never, the 
 Ministers must pay their debt. The vacillation continued for 
 some days : the Lord Treasurer pretended an earnestness which 
 was perhaps not quite sincere, and Swift's vexation almost 
 overcame his attachment to his patron. It was not until the 
 23rd of April, that the warrant for his appointment to the 
 Deanery of St. Patrick's, which has become inseparably linked 
 with his name, was signed. 
 ^It is idle to blame Swift for this imperious claim of eccle- 
 
Aet. 46.] THE DEANERY OF ST. PATRICK'S. 23 
 
 siastical preferment as a reward for his services as political 
 henchman. To set up a severe standard of scrupulosity in such 
 matters is to mistake the whole feeling of the time. Swift, 
 with a delicacy of feeling which in his time was almost singular, 
 had refused to enter the Church as a mere resort for a liveli- 
 hood. But once he had joined her ranks, pride, as well as 
 self-interest, impelled him to demand a share in such prizes as 
 she had to give. When engaged in the duties of his profession, 
 he performed them with strict -fidelity and scrupulous care. In 
 later years he spent time and thought and money in endeavours 
 to raise theoositron of the poor- by whom his deanery was 
 iecL/ His attachment to the Church_was thorough and 
 sincereT— Eiit__ he fought J oL-ber--^gs~afaithful soldier, not as a 
 missionary inspired by pious zeal. He did not look upon his 
 calling as separating him from the ordinary interests and aims 
 of his fellow-men. He neither professed nor felt any over- 
 powering motive of self-sacrifice, or any call to conceive his duties 
 as requiring an abnegation of all but religious motives, which, 
 however respectable when sincere, may sometimes, in more 
 modern days, be assumed with more of conventionality than 
 sincerity. 
 
 Swift set out for his new post with no great alacrity. Just 
 before his departure he was exasperated by an ill-tempered and 
 absurd attack made upon him by Steele. The reward which 
 had fallen to him was less than he deemed due to his deserts : 
 and he by no means relished the thought of spending his days 
 in Ireland, when English preferment seemed to b,e within his 
 grasp. But he had at least the satisfaction of soon knowing that 
 he was sorely missed. The Ministry were again in difficulties. 
 Oxford and Bolingbroke (St. John had now been created Vis- 
 count Bolingbroke) had fallen out. The terms of the Treaty of 
 Peace were fiercely assailed in Parliament. The mainstay of 
 the Ministry in the press had been Swift, and without him they 
 were perplexed. Their summons was anxious and eager : ' You 
 must make all possible haste : we want you extremely.' So 
 wrote Erasmus Lewis, the faithful official who had supplied the 
 ■defects of business method and care so marked in Oxford ; and 
 Swift, on this entreaty, returned to England in September, just 
 
34 LIFE. [Aet. 46. 
 
 on the eve of an election where the battle of the Ministers and 
 their opponents was to be fought out. The Tories stood upon 
 their loyalty to Church and Crown, upon the blessings of peace, 
 and upon the cheap commodities which their Commercial Treaty 
 had made possible : the Whigs murmured of betrayal to France, 
 burned effigies of the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender, 
 recalled the victories of Marlborough, and appealed to the 
 selfishness of the monied class, whose interest in the funds, 
 they asserted, was threatened, so long as the Ministry remained 
 in office. The result gave a large majority to the Tories, and 
 Swift's pen was now brought in to confirm the victory. Steele 
 was the first to feel the edge of his weapon. In order to inflame 
 men's minds against the Ministers, Steele wrote a pamphlet on 
 The Importance of Dunkirk, in which he professed to expose the 
 treachery which had enabled the French king to elude the terms 
 of the Treaty by which he was required to destroy the forti- 
 fications of that town. Swift answered in a tract called the Im- 
 portance of the Guardian, which paid off his scores against 
 Steele : and a reply from Steele, in the Crisis, drew from Swift 
 by far the greatest monument of the fray, in the Public Spirit 
 of the Whigs. 
 
 But however Swift might maintain the struggle, the clouds 
 were gathering round the prospect of his friends. The health 
 of the Queen was precarious, and the Ministers seemed to have 
 lost all clear and definite policy. Their dissensions were be- 
 coming more and more bitter. Vexed and dispirited, Swift 
 retired, first to Berkshire, and then to Ireland. He was tired to 
 death, so he says, ' of Courts and Ministers ' ; but what op- 
 pressed him was not only the ruin impending over the cause for 
 which he had striven, but also the thought that he was now 
 parting, perhaps for life, from those with whom he had held 
 most pleasant converse. He writes to Arbuthnot, whose wit, 
 humour, and practical philosophy brought him closest to Swift's 
 heart, in a strain of bitter grief. 'Writing to you much would 
 make me stark mad. Judge his condition who has nothing to 
 keep him from being miserable but endeavouring to forget those 
 for whom he has the greatest value, love, and friendship. 
 Adieu, and love me half so well as I do you.' 
 
Aet. 46.] THE FALL OF THE TORIES. 25 
 
 Swift's prognostications of failure were soon realized. The 
 quarrel between Oxford and Bolingbroke became more and 
 more violent : and at length Bolingbroke succeeded in driving 
 his rival from power. His own triumph was short-lived. The 
 Lord Treasurer resigned on the 27th of July, 1714. But on the 1st 
 of August the Queen died, having, with her dying breath, com- 
 mitted the Treasurer's staff to the Duke of Shrewsbury. The 
 hopes of the Tories were shattered at one blow : and with the 
 Hanoverian succession the Whig party entered upon a lease of 
 power that lasted for more than a generation. J 
 
 With the fall of his friends a crisis in Swift's life was reached. 
 For four years he had been absorbed in party struggles, which 
 had torn him from all the work for which his genius was uniquely 
 fitted. The result had been no satisfaction to himself: he was 
 involved in constant and harassing contentions, which he often 
 despised, and his efforts had brought him little even of outward 
 reward. But, hard as these four years had been, and bitterly as 
 he spoke of the retrospect, they had done much to ripen his 
 genius. His had been a strange experience. With a spirit 
 morbidly gloomy and wayward, and a saturnine humour that 
 spared not even his own deeper feelings or higher aspirations, 
 it was impossible for Swift to pursue one constant aim, or to 
 follow one single path. Powers such as his would certainly have 
 carried him far in worldly success on any chosen career : but the 
 mood and humour that wrapped these powers in their own cloak, 
 and covered them with their own gloom and waywardness, for- 
 bade him any such beaten track. Now, having reached middle 
 age, he had passed through successive phases which had indeed 
 ripened his genius by their very variety, but which had also 
 confirmed the waywardness which made that genius work in 
 paths that were not those of other men. Nurtured in de- 
 pendence he had caught from that hated experience a will 
 that was stubborn even to tyranny. Having employed his 
 earliest thoughts with brooding over metaphysical problems 
 and endeavouring to pierce into the hidden meaning of things, he 
 had thrown this pursuit aside after producing a few involved and 
 amorphous verses, and the memory of these early broodings 
 only gave edge to his satire on the vanity of human speculation, 
 
26 LIFE. [Aet. 46. 
 
 and added a special feature to his humour in that occasional 
 travesty of philosophical thought, which he handles so lightly, 
 but which gives a meaning so deep to the scorn with which he 
 regards all human things. In the Tale of a Tub he had indulged 
 the full exuberance of his genius, but powerful as had been its 
 attraction, the result upon his readers had been that of doubt 
 and wonder and distrust, rather than cordial admiration. He 
 spent no time or thought over measuring his powers or nursing 
 his genius, but threw himself, with the eagerness of one who 
 sought a new outlet, into the troubled waters of politics. His 
 early life with Sir William Temple had given him some insight . 
 into affairs : and to take an active and leading part therein 
 seemed to stifle his broodings, and to give that rest which his 
 spirit could find only in constant employment. Angrily as he 
 viewed these later years, when he looked back upon the fruitless- 
 ness of his efforts, it may be doubted whether for Swift himself 
 they were not the happiest of his life. The rush of business ; 
 the sense of influence ; the excitement of constant intercourse 
 with men who, for good or ill, were making history ; the ardour 
 of the fight ; and, perhaps more than all, the close and intimate 
 meetings with those whose genius he felt most akin to his own, 
 such as Arbuthnot and Pope — all these made Swift less morbid 
 during these years than at any period of his life. We may 
 grudge the time stolen from the special exercise of gifts which 
 are unique in all our literature : we may doubt the wisdom of 
 the part Swift played, or we may differ from the judgment which 
 he formed upon the affairs of the time. But we cannot deny 
 that his experience then not only developed a new side of a 
 genius whose variety has been rarely equalled, but also con- 
 tributed some brightness to a life which was for the most part 
 steeped in gloom. 
 
 Henceforward Swift's home was Ireland : and where he did 
 not take all humanity for his theme, it was in the affairs of 
 Ireland that he found material for his pen. From the first he 
 looked forward to this banishment— for such it was to his mind 
 —as in all probability permanent. The prospect plunged him 
 in deep gloom, and the reception with which he met did not 
 tend to lighten that gloom. He was suspected, as all those are 
 
Aet. 46-53.] SWIFT AND IRELAND. 27 
 
 apt to be who were the close adherents of a fallen ministry. In 
 Ireland the Whigs had a strong body of followers : and these 
 were ready to involve Swift in the charge of Jacobitism which 
 was now brought against the members of Queen Anne's last 
 ministry. He was made the mark for all sorts of ribaldry and 
 insult, and found few sympathisers in his bitter opposition to the 
 new administration. But as time went on the- prospect became 
 brighter : Swift's interests were again aroused : and, above all, 
 the action of the Government drove many to sympathise with 
 Swift who had before stood aloof from him. 
 
 The evils under which Ireland suffered — evils in part eco- 
 nomical, but aggravated, if not caused, by centuries of English 
 misgovernment — were now becoming ever more and more acute. 
 With her landlords absent, spending their rents in England, and 
 grinding their tenants through merciless agents ; with her offices 
 filled, so far as the drawing of emoluments was concerned, by 
 absentees ; with her commerce crippled by unjust restrictions 
 imposed by the English Parliament ; torn by religious divisions 
 which separated the nation into the hostile camps of the perse- 
 cuted Roman Catholics who hated the dominant Church, and of 
 an Established Church which was forced to wear a political livery; 
 with masses of her population sunk in depths of poverty that 
 were seed-beds of crime — Ireland presented a picture of misery 
 and misgovernment that gave point to the denunciations of all 
 who sought to attack the English administration. Hatred of the 
 Whigs was undoubtedly Swift's first motive for becoming the 
 champion of Ireland. But the conduct of the Whigs soon made 
 the part of the Irish patriot coincide exactly with that of the 
 bitter opponent of the Whig ministry : and it gave union and 
 compactness to parties which before had been separated and 
 suspicious of one another. It was in 1720 that this united 
 Irish party was first formed, not as a political organisation, but 
 under the stress of indignation which the wrongs inflicted by 
 England had produced. Swift's first contribution to the battle 
 for Irish rights was his pamphlet, A Proposal for the Universal 
 Use of Irish Manufactures. It gave voice to the bitter feeling 
 of the hardship done to Ireland by the unjust restrictions placed 
 on her commerce by English greed and selfishness. As a means 
 
28 LIFE. [Aet. 53-55. 
 
 of reprisal Swift proposes to refuse anything that comes from 
 England. Every product of England is to be burned when 
 it reaches Ireland, except her people and her coals. On this 
 theme he enlarges with a concentrated strength of sarcasm and 
 invective that transcends all his previous political pamphlets. 
 Swift was not now writing as the spokesman of a triumphant 
 party, but was giving voice to the wrongs of the country where 
 he had found refuge as a banished and denounced man. The 
 bitterness of personal feeling was added to the keenness of the 
 political partisan : and the indignation inherent in Swift against 
 all forms of oppression gave additional force to his pen. 
 
 The Whig Government were unaccustomed to such vigour 
 from a country where habit had made them think their influence 
 to be invulnerable ; and they were foolish enough to strike at the 
 author through the printer of the tract. The Chief Justice 
 Whiteshed, an obedient Whig partisan, presided when the bill 
 was presented against the printer: and when the Grand Jury 
 hesitated to find a true bill, he overcame their scruples. At the 
 trial the jury refused to convict, and even Whiteshed's bully- 
 ing failed to conquer their stubbornness. The Government at- 
 tempted to renew the prosecution, but were at length compelled 
 to desist. 
 
 Swift had now entered on a new chapter in his life, and found 
 a work which revived his powers, and for a time dispelled his 
 gloom. He became the centre^of_anJrish party — if that naav 
 rightly be called so, which really was a party formed by those 
 Englishmen who had permanent settlements in Ireland, as 
 against those who knew, or were interested in, her solely as the 
 source of their own salaries, or as a means of increasing the 
 influence of their own party by favour or by patronage dispensed 
 at her cost. But that party soon became stronger, and acquired 
 popular support, even from those lower classes amongst whom 
 it roused the instinct of national feeling, little as they were 
 concerned with the struggles of English faction. The oppor- 
 tunity was given by the folly and corruption of the English 
 Government. A patent for the issue of a copper coinage was 
 given to one William Wood, in 1722. Its extent and conditions 
 were not justified by anything in the state of Irish currency, 
 
Aet. 55-5?.] THE DRAPIER LETTERS. 29 
 
 and it was accompanied by every circumstance which could 
 kindle national prejudice against it. Wood was to make a large 
 profit : and besides all the usual blackmail levied by the officials 
 of the day, a bribe of no less than ;£ 10,000 was to be paid by 
 him to the King's mistress, the Duchess of Kendal. Neither the 
 Lord Lieutenant, nor the Irish Privy Council, nor the Irish 
 Parliament, was consulted on the subject ; and an outburst of 
 popular indignation made inquiry necessaiy. While this was 
 being conducted with what was only a show of business, Swift 
 made himself the mouthpiece of the popular anger. In the 
 character of M. B. Drapier, a shopman of Dublin, he published 
 a letter to the Irish people, magnifying the scandal of the trans- 
 action, and picturing its probable results : and boldly calling on 
 them to resist a stretch of the prerogative in which the King's 
 name was only used by those who were as false to his service as 
 they were indifferent to the rights of Ireland. A second and a 
 third letter followed, making an even more vigorous claim for 
 Irish independence: and in 1724, he addressed 'To the Whole 
 People of Ireland ' a fourth letter, which called on Ireland to 
 wrench her independence from the hands of a government rotten 
 with corruption. The fiction of a ' depending kingdom ' must 
 be cast aside. With Wood's patent must also disappear the 
 whole system of deception, and dishonesty, and callous indif- 
 ference to the wishes or the welfare of Ireland, of which the 
 Patent granted to Wood was only one trifling example. Wood 
 was almost forgotten in the fury of Swift's attack upon the 
 English Government and all that it represented. 
 
 The nation was now stirred to its depths, and what had at 
 first been an agitation of a small clique of English origin, was 
 swelled into a popular revolt against the whole theory of 
 Ireland's position upon which the Whig Government seemed 
 resolved to proceed. It shows the enormous power of Swift's 
 satire, that he, English himself by all but the accident of his 
 place of birth, hating Ireland and longing to quit her shores, 
 the adherent of a Church which was that of a trifling minority, 
 and speaking for a small (although influential) class, gathered 
 to his side the whole national instinct of the Irish mob, Catholic 
 as well as Protestant, and inspired in the English Government 
 
30 LIFE. [Aet. 57-59. 
 
 so much dread of armed rebellion, that they felt themselves 
 compelled once more to proceed against his printer. But again 
 Whiteshed's attempts to serve the cause of his masters were 
 foiled. The bill was thrown out ; the city celebrated the 
 triumph of their hero : he who had been a few years before 
 received in Dublin with jeers and insults, became the object of 
 unquestioning worship. The Government found themselves 
 defeated and discredited. Wood's half-pence were withdrawn : 
 the prosecution was abandoned : and the retreat was arranged 
 with as little loss of dignity as might be. Walpole, however, 
 though defeated for the moment, abandoned none of his plans. 
 The government of Ireland was still to be in the hands of his 
 most obedient partisans. All was to be arranged with the sole 
 end of promoting English influence. The Church was to be 
 made the tool and sign of subjection. Its rivals were to be 
 encouraged, in order that it might attain no dangerous influence 
 in the nation. The very notion of the independency of the 
 kingdom, which had shewn such threatening power of asserting 
 itself, was to be steadily and surely undermined. For this 
 purpose Dr. Hugh Boulter, the Bishop of Bristol, was made 
 Primate of Ireland : and for nineteen years — covering more 
 than all the years of Swift's active work — this obedient hench- 
 man of Walpole exercised all his ingenuity and his industry in 
 promoting the influence of English agents, and in killing at the 
 root that spirit which Swift had galvanized into a momentary 
 show of energy. 
 
 But Swift, before this Irish struggle closed, was turning his 
 thoughts to England. He had now composed the larger portion 
 of his next great work: and he was longing to share in the 
 literary projects of such friends as Pope, Bolingbroke, Gay, 
 and Arbuthnot. In March, 1726, he returned to the old circle. 
 Bolingbroke was back from his banishment : Pope was at the 
 height of his fame, and just about to issue the Dunciad ; Gay 
 was meditating the Beggar's Opera: and Arbuthnot was 
 scheming the plan of a joint and wide-reaching satire which 
 was to be published under the name of Scriblerus. Swift's 
 spirits revived with the welcome which greeted him. He was 
 soon engaged with all the literary projects of his friends : and 
 
Aet. 59-60.] GULLIVER. 3 1 
 
 Gulliver's Travels, over which he had spent some of the years 
 of his banishment, was prepared for publication. His visit 
 lasted but a short time : he left in August of the same year : 
 and in November, Gulliver appeared. In its range the widest 
 of all his works, in its humour one of the most playful, and in its 
 deeper points of satire the most profoundly melancholy, it repre- 
 sents Swift at the height of his power and in the plenitude of 
 his experience. It was greeted by such a burst of applause as 
 had attended no other of Swift's works, and the misgivings 
 which he had felt as to the continuance of his powers were 
 quickly dispelled. But old age and ill-health were creeping 
 upon him. He had found little satisfaction in any renewal of 
 his old relation with English politics. Fears of increasing 
 illness and of mental failure could not be dispelled, and were 
 deepening his constitutional melancholy. The health of Stella 
 was causing him acute anxiety : and he felt himself unfit for 
 the old intercourse with the wits, that had been so full of zest 
 for him before. He returned once more to England in April, 
 1727 : and in September of that year he quitted her shores for 
 the last time, and finally settled in that country which was his 
 by birth, for whose rights he did such yeoman service, but 
 whose soil he continued to the end to hate so bitterly. To him 
 Ireland was ever a place of banishment : and to end his days 
 there was ' to die like a poisoned rat in a hole.' 
 
 The remaining facts of Swift's life are easily given in outline. 
 His return to Ireland was soon followed by the death of Stella, 
 which cut off the chief source of comfort to his life. Hence- 
 forward the decline in the interests and ties that bound him to 
 the world was rapid. He interfered no further in English 
 politics, except to send occasional words of sympathy to the 
 leaders of opposition, and to greet the rising star of Pulteney, 
 who was Walpole's chief opponent, as one ' who had preserved 
 the spirit of liberty,' and ' had resisted the corruption of politics.' 
 But in Ireland, broken as he was, he occupied a position that 
 was unique, and that might well have satisfied his pride. He 
 was the acknowledged leader of a party that might fairly claim 
 to be national, although it had originated in the discontent felt 
 by a comparatively small class, against a class that was still 
 
^2 LIFE. [Aet. 60-78. 
 
 smaller. He continued to publish pamphlets on the wrongs of 
 Ireland : and while others were probing her ills, and discussing 
 remedies, Swift gave the impulse to national feeling, and kept 
 its bitterness alive against the little English garrison com- - 
 manded by Archbishop Boulter. His pamphlets on the state 
 of Ireland culminated in that most widely known tract, A 
 \ modest Proposal for preventing the Children of Poor People in 
 Ireland from being a burden to their Parents in the Country, \ 
 which, in its concentrated humour, cynicism, and pity, is singu- 
 larly characteristic of Swift. He found time and strength also 
 for some vigorous blows on behalf of his Church : and it was in 
 1736, while he was engaged on a poem satirising the Irish Par- 
 liament (which had interfered with her privileges) under the 
 name of the ' Legion Club,' that his illness, in its final and most 
 crushing form, overtook him. A few years more of almost un- 
 broken gloom were left to Swift : but his state at last fell into 
 one of utter helplessness and isolation, interrupted by fits of 
 frenzy and violence, and by attacks of terrible agony of pain. 
 Finally he sank into absolute mental apathy : and death released 
 him only on the 19th of October, 1745. 
 
 We have thus glanced at the chief phases of Swift's life : his 
 early days of penury and dependence : his service with Sir 
 William Temple, leading him, as his position in the household 
 advanced, into close contact with great affairs. We have seen 
 him in early days with powers undiscovered and uncontrolled, 
 devoting himself to a species of poetry as obscure in thought as 
 it was involved in expression. His earliest success as a writer 
 was obtained while he was a member of the Whig party : but 
 that party offended him by neglect of his Church, and he 
 plunged into the vortex of political controversy as the avowed and 
 trusty ally of the Tory Government. On the fall of that Govern- 
 ment he retired to the Deanery, which had been given him as the 
 reward for his political service : and arriving in Ireland as a 
 discredited partizan, he soon recovered his position, and became 
 the idol of the people, and the undisputed leader of a national 
 party. He returned to the company of his old literary associates 
 for two short visits, and during these he produced the most 
 sweeping of his satires, in the Travels of Guiliver : and finally 
 
swift's character. 33 
 
 his life closed in Ireland, where he was looked upon as the fore- 
 most assertor of her wrongs. He had in his time played many 
 P ar ts. The nerce _controversialist, the mp.rrilpgg ni inln - ih,, 
 gloomy cyrnci had another side to his character, which has 
 given it an, undying interest in the dramatic contrast of light and 
 shade. To his friends he was a centre of attraction)^ The fierce 
 anger of the right could always be laid aside for the light play- 
 fulness of humour, and for the warmth of a sympathetic affection. 
 Lonely, disappointed, weighed down by his consuming scorn 
 for much that he saw around him, he yet clung to the love of 
 his friends, and was almost blind to their faults. Chiefly under n 
 the influence of a self-torturing cynicism, he had darkened his \ 
 own life by involving his chief affection in mystery ; but to two "j 
 women he had nevertheless been the very centre of their life, ^ 
 and to one of these he was bound by a tie of old and faithful 
 affection which was broken only by death. Over Hester 
 Vanhomrigh, as over Esther Johnson, he had gained an over- 
 powering influence as guide, philosopher, and friend. But 
 while Vanessa, as he playfully called the former, unwilling to 
 efface herself, and mistaking their relations, became the object 
 of Swift's anger and contempt, so Stella, accepting the mys- 
 terious limits placed upon their union by Swift, and content to 
 live only for what love he had to give her, earned his profound 
 respect and friendship, and by her death left him a lonely and 
 comfortless man. His relations to his literary and political 
 friends were the more close and cordial, because he had himself 
 so little of those small jealousies that are apt to pervade such 
 circles. He could bear with the petty vanity of Pope ; he clung 
 to Addison in spite of party differences ; encouraged the help- 
 lessness of Gay ; and condoned the ostentation and insincerity 
 that marred the brilliancy of Bolingbrbke. Imperious in his 
 attitude towards his fellow-men, disdainful of human foibles, he 
 yet forgot his harshness and his scorn in his. love of those who 
 were his chosen friends. 
 
 In Swift's attitude towards religion there is much that is 
 
 characteristic of his age, but not a little that is peculiar to 
 
 himself. In his hatred of avowed scepticism, in his intolerance 
 
 of all that would lessen the influence of the established religion 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 LIFE. 
 
 as a system of police, in his angry repudiation of all charges of 
 freethinking, Swift was partly true to his own conviction, but 
 partly also reflected what was one of the chief traits of the 
 religious apathy of his time. In some respects his position, in 
 this regard, is not very different from that assumed by those 
 whom posterity has justly agreed to reckon as typical free- 
 thinkers—by Bolingbroke, by Pope, by Chesterfield. But Swift 
 did not accompany it, as they did, by a dallying with tenets 
 subversive of the fundamental positions of Christianity. The 
 notion of his duty, as a faithful servant of his own Church, 
 doubtless helped to maintain Swift's rigid adherence to her 
 principles, and his conviction of the social dangers of scepticism 
 gave sincerity to his defence of these principles : but the real 
 motive of his refusal to admit any tampering with accepted 
 religious tenets lay much deeper, and had its foundation in his 
 contempt for his fellow-creatures. The narrow range of human 
 knowledge, the scanty power of discerning truth, the slight 
 influence which truth ever had in determining human action, or 
 in withstanding human passions, — all these made him treat 
 religious speculation as a species of morbid vanity, and made 
 him find in accepted dogma, if not the real key to the problems 
 of life, at least one which might serve the sorry crew, who were 
 eager for any new or schismatical doctrine, as a means of 
 satisfying their whims or flattering their self-conceit. The 
 weapon of Swift's orthodoxy is always ridicule, never exhorta- 
 tion. Because the religion of our fathers is not good enough 
 for the fools of to-day, are we to change every year or month, to 
 suit each new caprice ? This is, in effect, his argument against 
 any scheme of ' Comprehension,' the watchword so dear to the 
 latitudinarians of his day. But while in certain aspects this 
 contemptuous and impatient dogmatism, which scorned even to 
 listen to doubts or to waste time on speculation, brought Swift 
 near to the affected and formal orthodoxy of those whom I have 
 named, yet there was another side, on which his religious 
 feeling was far different from theirs. It had the sincerity of a 
 mind, earnest alike in its hatreds, its loves, its sympathies, and 
 its gloom. Only on rare occasions does he suffer it to be seen; 
 and when, in his own life's experience, he seems to turn to it, 
 
SWIFT S STYLE. 35 
 
 it is as to something which brought him no soothing or gentle 
 influence, but rather a spirit of deepened melancholy, and a 
 stronger sense of the mysterious sadness of that 'ridiculous 
 tragedy,' to which he was accustomed to compare human life. 
 
 And something of this many-sidedness, and of these vivid con- 
 trasts, in personal character, appears also, in the literary genius 
 of Swift. As a literary artist, he is consummate in his skill : 
 yet no man probably ever attended less to rules of art. His 
 charm chiefly lies in the absolute ease with which he could 
 create by words the very mood — humorous or grave, gay or 
 cynical, profoundly misanthropic or playful and tender — in 
 which he desired to place his reader. By some of the most 
 competent of critics, his prose has been held to be the perfection 
 of English style ; not certainly because of its finish or elabora- 
 tion ; not because it is without inaccuracy and minor incorrect- 
 ness ; but because it is so absolutely clear and direct, and 
 moves with such perfection of unstudied and inimitable ease. 
 His works occupy a place altogether unique in our own, or any 
 other literature. They fall into line with no one order of creative 
 genius. But their chief literary interest lies in this, that what- 
 ever the subject of which they treat, whatever the special manner 
 of that treatment, they all show that highest power of genius 
 as applied to literary creation, which makes written language 
 the absolute slave of the thought and mood that have to be 
 conveyed, reflecting their slightest variation, and repeating, 
 without apparent effort, the most subtle of their passing phases. 
 To the student of literature, the gradual development of his 
 genius, from his obscure and uncouth Pindarics, to the resistless 
 flow of his Legion Club, and from the somewhat stilted periods 
 of the Dissensions at Athens and Rome, to the unstudied sim- 
 plicity of Gulliver, will afford, at each turn, new subject of 
 interest, and new illustrations of the matchless power over words 
 which Swift, in his maturity, attained. 
 
 In the following selections, therefore, the object has been not 
 to exclude any characteristic phase of Swift's style. If we are 
 to appreciate Swift, it is impossible to confine ourselves to those 
 works which mark his genius at its highest, and the later ease 
 of his style, or which deal with subjects of most enduring interest. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 CONCLUSION. 
 
 We must see from what that ease and flexibility, which became 
 his characteristics, gradually emerged: we must watch him in his 
 most careless mood, and we must observe how his genius has 
 preserved a living interest for pamphlets of which the occasion 
 is forgotten and uncared for. In the introductory prefaces, it is 
 hoped that enough information is given to place the student in 
 possession of the outlines of the subject of which each work 
 treats, and the circumstances in which it was composed. In the 
 notes, it has been my aim to supply some of that necessary com- 
 mentary which has scarcely yet been attempted in any edition of 
 Swift. The absence of such a commentary has certainly marred 
 the common appreciation of his genius. Men have learned a 
 few typical phrases from his works ; they have been attracted 
 by the more obvious bursts of satire ; they have singled out the 
 passages which appeal to all time. But they have failed to 
 follow the course of the satire line by line ; to trace its move- 
 ment and advance ; and to identify the special reference,, to 
 some now-forgotten incident, which gives to it appropriateness 
 and force. So far as the specimens here given are concerned, I 
 have sought to make their more careful reading possible to the 
 student who may not have time or opportunity to trace such 
 allusions for himself. 
 
 H. C. 
 
CHRONOLOGY OF SWIFTS LIFE. 
 
 1667 (Nov. 30th), Birth of Swift. 
 1668. Swift carried to Whitehaven 
 
 by his nurse. 
 1671. Swiftbroughtbacktolreland. 
 1673. Sent to Kilkenny School. 
 1681. Sent to Trinity College, 
 
 Dublin. 
 1685. Graduates. 
 
 1688. Death of Swift's uncle, 
 
 Godwin Swift. 
 „ Swift joins his mother at 
 Leicester. 
 
 1689. Begins his first service with 
 
 Sir William Temple. 
 
 1690. Returns to Ireland. 
 
 1691. Begins his second service 
 with Temple. 
 
 1692. Admitted M.A. at Oxford. 
 
 „ Earliest poems (Pindaric 
 Odes, &c). 
 
 1694 (May). Quits Sir William 
 Temple's service for the 
 second time. 
 ,, (October). Ordained Deacon 
 by the Bishop of Kildare. 
 
 169J (January). Ordained Priest, 
 and appointed to the Pre- 
 bend of Kilroot. 
 
 1696 (May). Begins his third resi- 
 
 dence with Temple, at Moor 
 Park. 
 
 1697 (December). Resigns the 
 
 living of Kilroot. 
 ,, Battle of the Books chiefly 
 
 written. 
 169$ (January z'jth). Death of 
 
 Temple. "- 
 1699. Swift returns to Ireland, as 
 
 Chaplain to Lord Berkeley. 
 
 1700 
 
 -- — (February). Vicar of Laracor. 
 
 1699 
 
 1701. Became D;D. of Trinity 
 
 College. 
 „ Returns to England. 
 „ Dissensions at Athens and 
 
 Rome. 
 
 1701 : Stella settles in Ireland, 
 
 where Swift follows at end 
 of the year. 
 
 1702 (March). Death of William 
 
 III. 
 „ (April to October). Swift visits 
 England. 
 
 1703 (November). Again in Eng- 
 
 land. 
 1704. Publication of the Tale of 1 
 Tub and Battle of the Books. 
 
 „ Returns to Laracor. 
 
 „ (August). Victory of Blen- 
 heim. 
 
 1705 (April). Visit to England, to 
 
 press claim of First Fruits 
 for Irish Church. 
 
 1706 (May). Victory of Ramillies. 
 
 1707 (November). Swift again re- 
 
 turns to England, to renew 
 struggle for First Fruits. 
 170^ (February). Dismissal of 
 Harley from Whig Ministry. 
 1708. Victory of Oudenarde. 
 
 ,, (October). Death of Prince 
 George. 
 
 ,, Lord Wharton appointed 
 Governor of Ireland (Ad- 
 dison made Chief Secretary). 
 
 „ Letter on the Sacramental 
 Test, Argument against Abo- 
 lishing Christianity, Project 
 for the Advancement of Re- 
 ligion, Sentiments of a 
 Church of England Man. 
 
 „ Predictions for the year 
 1708 (Bickerstaff). 
 
 „ Acquaintance with Hester 
 
 Vanhbmrigh (Vanessa). 
 
 1709 {July). Swift returns to 
 Laracor. 
 
 „ Overtures for Peace from 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 „ (Nov. 5th). Sacheverell's 
 sermon against the Whig 
 Ministry. 
 
3» 
 
 1710 
 
 CHRONOLOGY OF SWIFT'S LIFE. 
 
 1711 
 
 17H 
 1712 
 
 1713 
 
 1714. 
 
 1714 
 
 (February). Prosecution of 1716. 
 
 Sacheverell. I7 2 °- 
 
 (May). Death of Swift's 
 
 mother. 
 (August). Harley made 1722. 
 
 Chancellorof the Exchequer. 
 (September). Swift returns 1723. 
 
 to England. >> 
 
 (October). His introduction i7 2 4- 
 
 to Harley, and breach 
 
 with the Whigs. ,, 
 
 Sid Hamets Rod (lampoon 
 
 onGodolphin). » 
 
 Writing in Examiner. 
 (March). Harley wounded „ 
 
 by Guiscard. 
 (May). Harley made Lord „ 
 
 Treasurer, and created Earl 
 
 of Oxford. 
 
 (£)ctober).ConductoftheAllies. ,, 
 
 (December). Dismissal of 
 
 Marlborough. ,, 
 
 (January). Visit of Prince 
 
 Eugene to England. 1726. 
 
 Letter to the October Club. ,, 
 
 (July). St. John created ,, 
 
 Viscount Bolingbroke. 1727 
 
 (August). Suspension of 
 
 hostilities and beginning „ 
 
 of peace negotiations. I 7lf 
 
 (November). Death of Duke „ 
 
 of Hamilton in duel with 
 
 Lord Mohun. „ 
 
 (April). Peace signed at „ 
 
 Utrecht. I7 2 9- 
 
 ,, Appointed Dean of „ 
 
 St. Patrick's, Dublin. 1731- 
 
 (June). Returns to Ireland. 
 
 (July). Dissensions between 1733. 
 ' Oxford and Bolingbroke. 1 735- 
 
 (September). Swift returns to 
 
 England. 
 
 (December). Importance of the „ 
 
 Guardian (Attack on Steele). 
 , Plan of Scriblerus Club. 1736. 
 
 (May). Swift quits London. 1740. 
 
 (July). Oxford dismissed. 1741. 
 
 (August). Death of Queen 
 
 Anne. Fall of Tory Ministry. 1742. 
 -1719. Swift in retirement. 
 
 Cadenus and Vanessa. 1745 
 
 Marriage with Stella. 
 Swift's appearance as Irish . 
 
 Patriot. The Universal usi 
 
 of Irish Manufactures. 
 Patent for copper coinage 
 
 granted to Wood. 
 First Drapier's Letter. 
 Death of Vanessa. 
 Lord Carteret appointed 
 
 Governor of Ireland. 
 (August). Second and Third 
 
 Drapier's Letters. 
 (October). Fourth Drapier's 
 
 Letter. 
 
 ,, Prosecution of 
 
 Harding, the printer. 
 (November). Bill against 
 
 Harding' thrown out by 
 
 Grand Jury. 
 (December). Fifth Drapier's 
 
 Letter. 
 
 ,, Dr. Boulter ap- 
 
 pointed Primate of Ireland. 
 Swift visits England. 
 Meeting with Walpole. 
 Gullivers Travels. 
 (April). Swift's last visit to 
 
 England. 
 
 (June). Death of George I. 
 (January). Death of Stella. 
 Publication of the Beggar's 
 
 Opera. 
 Publication of the Dunciad. 
 Death of Congreve. 
 
 A Modest Proposal, &c. 
 Answer to the Craftsman. 
 
 Verses on the Death of Dr. 
 
 Swift. 
 
 Rhapsody on Poetry. 
 
 Faulkner's Edition of Swifts 
 
 Works. 
 
 Death of Arbuthnot. 
 
 Publication of Four Last 
 
 Years of the Queen. 
 
 The Legion Club. 
 
 Swift's last letter. 
 
 Guardian appointed for 
 
 Swift by Court of Chancery. 
 
 Last brain seizure, leaving 
 
 Swift in helpless idiocy. 
 
 (October igth). Death. 
 
SWIFT'S EARLIER POEMS. 
 
 These poems of Swift's early manhood do not, perhaps, merit 
 a place in a selection from his works by any intrinsic merit of 
 their own. But they have a biographical value, and illustrate 
 much that is of interest in the growth of a genius so unique as 
 his ; and no collection would be typical or representative of his 
 work, which excluded them entirely. They prove, in the first 
 place, how completely Swift was influenced by the prevailing 
 whim of the day, which not only rated the so-called Pindaric Odes 
 of Cowley as the best examples of his poetical faculty, but which 
 also prompted the habit of imitating them, until this became so 
 much the fashion that, in the words of Johnson, ' all the boys 
 and girls caught the pleasing fancy, and they who could do 
 nothing else could write like Pindar.' The references to Cowley 
 in the Battle of the Books sufficiently prove that a few years 
 brought to Swift a sounder literary judgment, and made him 
 assign such merit as Cowley attained, not to his ' Pindaric art,' 
 but to 'the language of his heart.' At this period, however, 
 Swift succumbed to the prevalent taste of the day. These 
 early literary efforts are further interesting, not only as showing 
 Swift's views on some of the topics then current, but also because 
 through them we can trace the growth of a style, so clear and 
 masculine as Swift's ultimately became, out of one most complex, 
 most obscure, and at times most affected. They show, also, how 
 a vein of metaphysical speculation preceded the phase of con- 
 temptuous indifference to the pursuit of philosophy, as something 
 beyond human powers and with no direct bearing on human 
 welfare, which, at a later day, became so characteristic of Swift. 
 Lastly, in these poems, an occasional touch of vigorous and 
 
40 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 sardonic humour proves how, even before he had mastered the 
 language most apt to give expression to his peculiar genius, the 
 main elements of that genius were already at work. 
 
 I. 
 
 To Dr. William Sancroft, late Archbishop of 
 Canterbury. 
 
 Written in May, 1689. 
 
 The Ode to Sancroft was addressed to him in honour of those 
 conscientious scruples that had prevented his taking the oath of 
 allegiance to William and Mary, and thus renouncing the Divine 
 Right of the Stuart line. These scruples rendered necessary San- 
 croft's retirement from the Archbishopric. The whole tone of the 
 Ode proves how early Swift had imbibed a sympathy with, if not a 
 complete acceptance of, those High Church notions which at a later 
 day formed the strongest motive for his breach with the Whigs, and 
 his alliance with the Tory party. 
 
 I. 
 
 Truth is eternal, and the Son of Heaven, 
 Bright effluence of th' immortal ray, 
 Chief cherub, and chief lamp, of that high sacred Seven, 
 Which guard the throne by night, and are its light by 
 day; 
 First of God's darling attributes, 5 
 
 Thou daily seest Him face to face, 
 Nor does thy essence fix'd depend on giddy circumstance 
 
 Of time or place, 
 Two foolish guides in ev'ry sublunary dance; 
 
 How shall we find Thee then in dark disputes? 10 
 How shall we search Thee in a battle gain'd, 
 Or a weak argument by force maintain'd? 
 In dagger contests, and th' artillery of words, 
 (For swords are madmen's tongues, and tongues are mad- 
 men's swords,) 
 
ODE TO ARCHBISHOP SANCROFT. 41 
 
 Contrived to tire all patience out, 
 And not to satisfy the doubt? 
 
 But where is even thy Image on our earth? 
 For of the person much I fear, 
 Since Heaven will claim its residence, as well as birth, 5 
 And God Himself has said, He shall not find it here. 
 For this inferior world is but Heaven's dusky shade, 
 By dark reverted rays from its reflection made; 
 Whence the weak shapes wild and imperfect pass, 
 Like sunbeams shot at too far distance from a glass ; 10 
 Which all the mimic forms express, 
 Though in strange uncouth postures, and uncomely dress ; 
 So when Cartesian artists try 
 To solve appearances of sight 
 
 In its reception to the eye, 15 
 
 And catch the living landscape through a scanty light, 
 The figures all inverted shew, 
 And colours of a faded hue; 
 Here a pale shape with upward footstep treads, 
 
 And men seem walking on their heads ; 20 
 
 There whole herds suspended lie, 
 Ready to tumble down into the sky; 
 Such are the ways ill-guided mortals go 
 To judge of things above by things below. 
 Disjointing shapes as in the fairy land of dreams, 25 
 
 Or images that sink in streams; 
 No wonder, then, we talk amiss 
 Of truth, and what, or where it is ; 
 Say, Muse, for thou, if any, know'st, 
 Since the bright essence fled, where haunts the reverend 
 ghost ? 3° 
 
42 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 ill. 
 
 If all that our weak knowledge titles virtue, be 
 (High Truth) the best resemblance of exalted Thee, 
 
 If a mind fix'd to combat fate 
 With those two powerful swords, submission and humility, 
 
 Sounds truly good, or truly great; 5 
 
 111 may I live, if the good Sancroft, in his holy rest, 
 
 In the divin'ty of retreat, 
 Be not the brightest pattern earth can shew 
 
 Of heav'n-born Truth below ; 
 But foolish man still judges what is best 10 
 
 In his own balance, false and light, 
 
 toll'wing opinion, dark and blind, 
 
 That vagrant leader of the mind, 
 Till honesty and conscience are clear out of sight. 
 
 And some, to be large ciphers in a state, 15 
 
 Pleased with an empty swelling to be counted great, 
 Make their minds travel o'er infinity of space, 
 Rapt through the wide expanse of thought, 
 And oft in contradiction's vortex caught, 
 To keep that worthless clod, the body, in one place ; 20 
 Errors like this did old astronomers misguide, 
 Led blindly on by gross philosophy and pride, 
 Who, like hard masters, taught the sun 
 Through many a needless sphere to run, 
 Many an eccentric and unthrifty motion make, 25 
 
 And thousand incoherent journies take, 
 
 Whilst all th' advantage by it got, 
 Was but to light earth's inconsiderable spot. 
 
ODE TO ARCHBISHOP SANCROFT. 43 
 
 The herd beneath, who see the weathercock of state 
 
 Hung loosely on the church's pinnacle, 
 Believe it firm, because perhaps the day is mild and still; 
 But when they find it turn with the first blast of fate, 
 By gazing upward giddy grow, 5 
 
 And think the church itself does so ; 
 Thus fools, for being strong and num'rous known, 
 Suppose the truth, like all the world, their own ; 
 And holy Sancroft's motion quite irregular appears, 
 
 Because 'tis opposite to theirs. 10 
 
 v. 
 
 In vain then would the Muse the multitude advise, 
 Whose peevish knowledge thus perversely lies 
 
 In gath'ring follies from the wise; 
 Rather put on thy anger and thy spite, — 
 
 And some kind pow'r for once dispense 15 
 
 Through the dark mass, the dawn of so much sense, 
 To make them understand, and feel me when I write ; 
 
 The Muse and I no more revenge desire, — 
 Each line shall stab, shall blast, like daggers and like fire ; 
 Ah, Britain, land of angels ! which of all thy sins, 20 
 (Say, hapless isle, although 
 It is a bloody list we know,) 
 Has given thee up a dwelling-place to fiends? 
 
 Sin and the plague ever abound 
 In governments too easy, and too fruitful ground; 25 
 Evils which a too gentle king, 
 Too flourishing a spring, 
 And too warm summers bring: 
 Our British soil is over rank, and breeds 29 
 
 Among the noblest flowers a thousand pois'nous weeds, 
 
44 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 And every stinking weed so lofty grows, 
 
 As if 'twould overshade the Royal Rose ; 
 
 The Royal Rose, the glory of our morn, 
 
 But, ah ! too much without a thorn. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Forgive (original mildness) this ill-govern'd zeal, 5 
 
 'Tis all the angry slighted Muse can do 
 In the pollution of these days ; 
 No province now is left her but to rail, 
 And poetry has lost the art to praise, 
 
 Alas, the occasions are so few : 10 
 
 None e'er but you, 
 And your Almighty Master, knew 
 With heavenly peace of mind to bear 
 (Free from our tyrant passions, anger, scorn, or fear) 
 The giddy turns of pop'lar rage, 15 
 
 And all the contradictions of a poison'd age; 
 The Son of God pronounced by the same breath 
 
 Which straight pronounced his death; 
 And though I should but ill be understood, 
 In wholly equalling our sin and theirs, 20 
 
 And measuring by the scanty thread of wit 
 What we call holy, and great, and just, and good, 
 (Methods in talk whereof our pride and ignorance make 
 use,) 
 And which our wild ambition foolishly compares 
 
 With endless and with infinite; 25 
 
 Yet pardon, native Albion, when I say, 
 Among thy stubborn sons there haunts that spirit of the 
 Jews, 
 That those forsaken wretches who to-day 
 
ODE TO ARCHBISHOP SANCROFT. 45 
 
 Revile His great ambassador, 
 Seem to discover what they would have done 
 (Were his humanity on earth once more) 
 To his undoubted Master, Heaven's Almighty Son. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But zeal is weak and ignorant, though wondrous proud, 5 
 Though very turbulent and very loud; 
 The crazy composition shews, 
 Like that fantastic medley in the idol's toes, 
 Made up of iron mixt with clay, 
 
 This, crumbles into dust, 10 
 
 That, moulders into rust, 
 Or melts by the first shower away. 
 Nothing is fix'd that mortals see or know, 
 Unless, perhaps, some stars above be so; 
 
 And those, alas, do shew, 15 
 
 Like all transcendent excellence below; 
 In both, false mediums cheat our sight, 
 And far exalted objects lessen by their height : 
 Thus primitive Sancroft moves too high 
 To be observed by vulgar eye, 20 
 
 And rolls the silent year 
 On his own secret regular sphere, 
 And sheds, though all unseen, his sacred influence here. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Kind star, still may'st thou shed thy sacred influence here, 
 Or from thy private peaceful orb appear; 25 
 
 For, sure, we want some guide from Heaven, to shew 
 The way which every wand'ring fool below 
 Pretends so perfectly to know; 
 
46 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 And which, for aught I see, and much I fear, 
 
 The world has wholly miss'd; 
 I mean the way which leads to Christ : 
 Mistaken idiots ! see how giddily they run, 
 
 Led blindly on by avarice and pride, 5 
 
 What mighty numbers follow them; 
 Each fond of erring with his guide: 
 Some whom ambition drives, seek Heaven's high Son 
 In Caesar's court, or in Jerusalem : 
 
 Others, ignorantly wise, 10 
 
 Among proud doctors and disputing Pharisees : 
 What could the sages gain but unbelieving scorn; 
 
 Their faith was so uncourtly, when they said 
 That Heaven's high Son was in a village born; 
 
 That the world's Saviour had been 15 
 
 In a vile manger laid, 
 
 And foster'd in a wretched inn? 
 
 IX. 
 
 Necessity, thou tyrant conscience of the great, 
 Say, why the church is still led blindfold by the state; 
 Why should the first be ruin'd and laid waste, 20 
 
 To mend dilapidations in the last? 
 And yet the world, whose eyes are on our mighty Prince, 
 
 Thinks Heaven has cancell'd all our sins, 
 And that his subjects share his happy influence; 
 Follow the model close, for so I'm sure they should, 25 
 But wicked kings draw more examples than the good: 
 
 And divine Sancroft, weary with the weight 
 Of a declining church, by faction, her worst foe, oppress'd, 
 Finding the mitre almost grown 
 A load as heavy as the crown, 30 
 
 Wisely retreated to his heavenly rest. 
 
ODE TO ARCHBISHOP SANCROFT. 47 
 
 X. 
 
 Ah ! " may no unkind earthquake of the state, 
 Nor hurricano from the crown, 
 Disturb the present mitre, as that fearful storm of late, 
 Which, in its dusky march along the plain, 
 
 Swept up whole churches as it list, 5 
 
 Wrapp'd in a whirlwind and a mist; 
 Like that prophetic tempest in the virgin reign, 
 And swallow'd them at last, or flung them down. 
 Such were the storms good Sancroft long has borne; 
 The mitre, which his sacred head has worn, 10 
 
 Was, like his Master's Crown, inwreath'd with thorn. 
 Death's sting is swallow'd up in victory at last, 
 The bitter cup is from him past : 
 Fortune in both extremes, 
 Though blasts from contrariety of winds, 15 
 
 Yet to firm heavenly minds, 
 Is but one thing under two different names ; 
 And even the sharpest eye that has the prospect seen, 
 
 Confesses ignorance to judge between; 
 And must to human reasoning opposite conclude, 20 
 
 To point out which is moderation, which is fortitude. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Thus Sancroft, in the exaltation of retreat, 
 Shews lustre that was shaded in his seat; 
 
 Short glimm'rings of the prelate glorified ; 
 Which the disguise of greatness only served to hide. 25 
 
 Why should the Sun, alas ! be proud 
 
 To lodge behind a golden cloud? 
 Though fringed with evening gold the cloud appears so 
 
 gay, 
 
 'Tis but a low-born vapour kindled by a ray : 
 
4 8 , SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 At length 'tis overblown and past, 
 Puff'd by the people's spiteful blast, 
 The dazzling glory dims their prostituted sight, 
 No deflower'd eye can face the naked light : 
 Yet does this high perfection well proceed 5 
 
 From strength of its own native seed, 
 This wilderness, the world, like that poetic wood of old, 
 Bears one, and but one branch of gold, 
 Where the bless'd spirit lodges like the dove, 
 And which (to heavenly soil transplanted) will improve, 10 
 To be, as 'twas below, the brightest plant above ; 
 For, whate'er theologic lev'llers dream, 
 There are degrees above, I know, 
 As well as here below, 
 (The goddess Muse herself has told me so,) 15 
 
 Where high patrician souls, dress'd heavenly gay, 
 Sit clad in lawn of purer woven day. 
 There some high-spiritual throne to Sancroft shall be given, 
 
 In the metropolis of Heaven ; 
 Chief of the mitred saints, and from archprelate here, 20 
 Translated to archangel there. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Since, happy saint, since it has been of late 
 
 Either our blindness or our fate, 
 
 To lose the providence of thy cares, 
 Pity a miserable church's tears, 25 
 
 That begs the powerful blessing of thy pray'rs. 
 
 Some angel, say, what were the nation's crimes, 
 
 That sent these wild reformers to our times : 
 Say what their senseless malice meant, 
 To tear religion's lovely face : 30 
 
 Strip her of ev'ry ornament and grace ; 
 
ODE TO KING WILLIAM. 49 
 
 In striving to wash off th' imaginary paint ? 
 
 Religion now does on her death-bed lie, 
 Heart-sick of a high fever and consuming atrophy ; 
 How the physicians swarm to shew their mortal skill, 
 And by their college-arts methodically kill : 5 
 
 Reformers and physicians differ but in name, 
 
 One end in both, and the design the same; 
 Cordials are in their talk, while all they mean 
 
 Is but the patient's death, and gain. 
 
 II. 
 
 To King William, on his Successes in 
 Ireland. 
 
 This Ode also belongs to the period of Swift's residence with 
 Temple. It cannot of course be treated as anything more serious 
 than the compliment of a youth anxious to ingratiate himself with his 
 master Temple, and possibly to gain the ear of Temple's occasional 
 visitor, the King. How little the author's heart went with his theme 
 is clear from its laboured and pointless echo of Dryden's equally 
 insincere Ode on Cromwell. 
 
 To purchase kingdoms and to buy renown, 10 
 
 Are arts peculiar to dissembling France; 
 
 You, mighty monarch, nobler actions crown, 
 And solid virtue does your name advance. 
 
 Your matchless courage with your prudence joins, 
 The glorious structure of your fame to raise; 15 
 
 With its own light your dazzling glory shines, 
 And into adoration turns our praise. 
 
 vol. 1. e 
 
50 SELECTIONS PROM SWIFT. 
 
 Had you by dull succession gain'd your crown, 
 (Cowards are monarchs by that title made,) 
 
 Part of your merit Chance would call her own, 
 And half your virtues had been lost in shade. 
 
 But now your worth its just reward shall have : 5 
 
 What trophies and what triumphs are your due ! 
 
 Who could so well a dying nation save, 
 At once deserve a crown, and gain it too ! 
 
 You saw how near we were to ruin brought, 
 
 You saw th' impetuous torrent rolling on; 10 
 
 And timely on the coming danger thought, 
 Which we could neither obviate nor shun. 
 
 Britannia stripp'd of her sole guard, the laws, 
 Ready to fall Rome's bloody sacrifice; 
 
 You straight stepp'd in, and from the monster's jaws 15 
 Did bravely snatch the lovely, helpless prize. 
 
 Nor this is all; as glorious is the care 
 To preserve conquests, as at first to gain: 
 
 In this your virtue claims a double share, 
 Which, what is bravely won, does well maintain. 20 
 
 Your arm has now your rightful title shew'd, 
 An arm on which all Europe's hopes depend, 
 
 To which they look as to some guardian God, 
 That must their doubtful liberty defend. 
 
 Amazed, thy action at the Boyne we see 25 
 
 When Schomberg started at the vast design : 
 
 The boundless glory all redounds to thee, 
 Th' impulse, the fight, th' event, were wholly thine. 
 
ODE TO THE ATHENIAN SOCIETY. 51 
 
 The brave attempt does all our foes disarm; 
 
 You need but now give orders and command, 
 Your name shall the remaining work perform, 
 
 And spare the labour of your conquering hand. 
 
 France does in vain her feeble arts apply, 5 
 
 To interrupt the fortune of your course : 
 
 Your influence does the vain attacks defy 
 Of secret malice, or of open force. 
 
 Boldly we hence the brave commencement date 
 
 Of glorious deeds, that must all tongues employ ; 10 
 
 William's the pledge and earnest given by fate, 
 Of England's glory, and her lasting joy. 
 
 III. 
 To the Athenian Society. 
 
 This Society owed its origin to a strange scheme which was 
 started in the whimsical brain of John Dunton, who founded the 
 Society in order to promote certain fanciful investigations. Dunton's 
 early connexions, in the days of Charles II, had been with the Whig 
 and Dissenting interest ; and after finding it necessary to retire for a 
 time to America, owing to the over-jealous part he took in Monmouth's 
 rebellion, he returned to England after the Revolution, and resumed 
 his old business as a publisher. In this, as in all else, his chief aim, 
 like that of many another whimsical contriver, was 'to perform 
 something out of the beaten road.' His activity was for a time 
 considerable ; but projects so fantastic as his could result in no sound 
 achievement. Swift's curious admiration for Dunton's schemes can 
 only be explained by unconsciousness of his own powers, or diffidence 
 as to his means of attaining a fair field for their exercise. 
 
 As when the deluge first began to fall, 
 
 That mighty ebb never to flow again, 
 (When this huge body's moisture was so great, 15 
 
 It quite o'ercame the vital heat ;) 
 e 2 
 
53 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 That mountain which was highest, first of all 
 Appear'd above the universal main, 
 To bless the primitive sailor's weary sight; 
 And 'twas perhaps Parnassus, if in height 
 
 It be as great as 'tis in fame, > 
 
 And nigh to Heaven as is its name ; 
 So, after the inundation of a war, 
 When learning's little household did embark, 
 With her world's fruitful system, in her sacred ark, 
 
 At the first ebb of noise and fears, 10 
 
 Philosophy's exalted head appears; 
 And the Dove-Muse will now no longer stay, 
 But plumes her silver wings, and flies away; 
 
 And now a laurel wreath she brings from far, 
 
 To crown the happy conqueror, 15 
 
 To shew the flood begins to cease, 
 And brings the dear reward of victory and peace. 
 
 The eager Muse took wing upon the waves' decline, 
 
 When war her cloudy aspect just withdrew, 
 
 When the bright sun of peace began to shine, 20 
 And for a while in heavenly contemplation sat, 
 
 On the high top of peaceful Ararat; 
 And pluck'd a laurel branch, (for laurel was the first 
 
 that grew, 
 The first of plants after the thunder, storm, and rain,) 
 
 And thence, with joyful, nimble wing, 25 
 
 Flew dutifully back again, 
 And made an humble chaplet for the king. 
 
 And the Dove-Muse is fled once more, 
 (Glad of the victory, yet frighten'd at the war,) 
 
 And now discovers from afar 
 
 A peaceful and a flourishing shore : 
 No sooner did she land 
 
 30 
 
ODE TO THE ATHENIAN SOCIETY. $3 
 
 On the delightful strand, 
 
 Than straight she sees the country all around, 
 Where fatal Neptune ruled erewhile, 
 Scatter'd with fiow'ry vales, with fruitful gardens crown'd, 
 And many a pleasant wood; 5 
 
 As if the universal Nile 
 Had rather water'd it than drown'd: 
 It seems some floating piece of Paradise, 
 
 Preserved by wonder from the flood, 
 Long wandering through the deep, as we are told 10 
 Famed Delos did of old; 
 And the transported Muse imagined it 
 To be a fitter birth-place for the God of wit, 
 Or the much-talk'd-of oracular grove ; 
 When, with amazing joy, she hears 15 
 
 An unknown music all around, 
 Charming her greedy ears 
 With many a heavenly song 
 Of nature and of art, of deep philosophy and love; 19 
 Whilst angels tune the voice, and God inspires the tongue. 
 
 In vain she catches at the empty sound, 
 In vain pursues the music with her longing eye, 
 And courts the wanton echoes as they fly. 
 
 Were I to form a regular thought of Fame, 
 Which is, perhaps, as hard t' imagine right, ' 25 
 
 As to paint Echo to the sight, 
 I would not draw the idea from an empty name; 
 Because, alas ! when we all die, 
 Careless and ignorant posterity, 
 Although they praise the learning and the wit, 30 
 
 And though the title seems to show 
 The name and man by whom the book was writ, 
 
 Yet how shall they be brought to know, 
 
54 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Whether that very name was he, or you, or I? 
 
 Less should I daub it o'er with transitory praise, 
 And water-colours of these days : 
 
 These days ! where e'en th' extravagance of poetry 
 Is at a loss for figures to express 5 
 
 Men's folly, whimsies, and inconstancy, 
 And by a faint description makes them less. 
 
 Then tell us what is Fame, where shall we search for it ? 
 
 Look where exalted Virtue and Religion sit, 
 
 Enthroned with heavenly Wit ! 10 
 
 Look where you see 
 The greatest scorn of learned vanity ! 
 (And then how much a nothing is mankind ! 
 
 Whose reason is weigh'd down by popular air, 
 
 Who, by that, vainly talks of baffling death; 15 
 
 And hopes to lengthen life by a transfusion of breath, 
 
 Which yet whoe'er examines right will find 
 To be an art as vain as bottling up of wind !) 
 
 And when you find out these, believe true Fame is there, 
 P'ar above all reward, yet to which all is due : 20 
 And this, ye great unknown ! is only known in you. 
 
 The juggling sea-god, when by chance trepann'd 
 By some instructed querist sleeping on the sand, 
 
 Impatient of all answers, straight became 
 
 A stealing brook, and strove to creep away 25 
 
 Into his native sea, 
 
 Vex'd at their follies, murmur'd in his stream; 
 
 But disappointed of his fond desire, 
 
 Would vanish in a pyramid of fire. 
 
 This surly, slippery God, when he design'd 30 
 
 To furnish his escapes, 
 
 Ne'er borrow'd more variety of shapes 
 Than you, to please and satisfy mankind. 
 
ODE TO THE ATHENIAN SOCIETY. 55 
 
 Philosophy, as it before us lies, 
 Seems to have borrow'd some ungrateful taste 
 Of doubts, impertinence, and niceties, 
 From every age through which it pass'd, 
 But always with a stronger relish of the last. 5 
 
 This beauteous queen, by Heaven design'd 
 To be the great original 
 For man to dress and polish his uncourtly mind, 
 In what mock habits have they put her since the fall ! 
 More oft in fools and madmen's hands than sages', 10 
 She seems a medley of all ages, 
 With a huge farthingale to swell her fustian stuff, 
 A new commode, a topknot, and a ruff, 
 Her face patch'd o'er with modern pedantry, 
 
 With a long sweeping train 15 
 
 Of comments and disputes, ridiculous and vain, 
 All of old cut with a new dye : 
 How soon have you restored her charms, 
 And rid her of her lumber and her books, 
 
 Drest her again genteel and neat, 20 
 
 And rather tight than great ! 
 How fond we are to court her to our arms ! 
 How much of heaven is in her naked looks ! 
 
 Thus the deluding Muse oft blinds me to her ways, 
 And ev'n my very thoughts transfers 25 
 
 And changes all to beauty and the praise 
 Of that proud tyrant sex of hers. 
 The rebel Muse, alas! takes part, 
 But with my own rebellious heart, 
 And you with fatal and immortal wit conspire 30 
 
 To fan th' unhappy fire. 
 Cruel unknown ! what is it you intend ? 
 Ah ! could you, could you hope a poet for your friend ! 
 
$6 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Rather forgive what my first transport said: 
 May all the blood, which shall by woman's scorn be 
 shed, 
 Lie upon you and on your children's head ! 
 For you (ah! did I think I e'er should live to see 
 The fatal time when that could be !) 5 
 
 Have even increased their pride and cruelty. 
 Woman seems now above all vanity grown, 
 Still boasting of her great unknown 
 Platonic champions, gain'd without one female wile, 
 Or the vast charges of a smile; 10 
 
 Which 'tis a shame to see how much of late 
 You've taught the covetous wretches to o'errate, 
 And which they've now the consciences to weigh 
 In the same balance with our tears, 
 And with such scanty wages pay 15 
 
 The bondage and the slavery of years. 
 Let the vain sex dream on ; their empire comes from us ; 
 And had they common generosity, 
 
 They would not use us thus. 19 
 
 Well — though you've raised her to this high degree, 
 Ourselves are raised as well as she; 
 And, spite of all that they or you can do, 
 'Tis pride and happiness enough to me, 
 Still to be of the same exalted sex with you. 
 
 Alas, how fleeting and how vain, 25 
 
 Is even the nobler man, our learning and our wit! 
 I sigh whene'er I think of it : 
 As at the closing of an unhappy scene 
 Of some great king and conqueror's death, 
 When the sad melancholy Muse 30 
 
 Stays but to catch his utmost breath. 
 I grieve, this nobler work, most happily begun, 
 
ODE TO THE ATHENIAN SOCIETY. 57 
 
 So quickly and so wonderfully carried on, 
 May fall at last to interest, folly, and abuse. 
 There is a noontide in our lives, 
 Which still the sooner it arrives, 
 Although we boast our winter sun looks bright, 5 
 
 And foolishly are glad to see it at its height, 
 Yet so much sooner comes the long and gloomy night. 
 
 No conquest ever yet begun, 
 And by one mighty hero carried to its height, 
 E'er flourish'd under a successor or a son; 10 
 
 It lost some mighty pieces through all hands it pass'd, 
 And vanish'd to an empty title in the last. 
 For, when the animating mind is fled, 
 (Which nature never can retain, 
 
 Nor e'er call back again,) 15 
 
 The body, though gigantic, lies all cold and dead. 
 
 And thus undoubtedly 'twill fare 
 With what unhappy men shall dare 
 To be successors to these great unknown, 
 
 On learning's high-establish'd throne. 20 
 
 Censure, and Pedantry, and Pride, 
 Numberless nations, stretching far and wide, 
 Shall (I foresee it) soon with Gothic swarms come forth 
 From Ignorance's universal North, 24 
 
 And with blind rage break all this peaceful government : 
 Yet shall these traces of your wit remain, 
 Like a just map, to tell the vast extent 
 Of conquest in your short and happy reign : 
 And to all future mankind shew 
 How strange a paradox is true, 3° 
 
 That men who lived and died without a name 
 Are the chief heroes in the sacred lists of fame. 
 Moor Park, Feb. 14, 1691. 
 
58 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 IV. 
 
 From an Ode on Sir William Temple's Illness 
 and Recovery. 
 
 This Ode was written in 1693, during Swift's later residence with 
 Temple. The rest of the poem is of little interest ; but the lines given 
 here present a vivid picture of the state of Swift's mind at this time. 
 The vague metaphysical speculations, and the involution of language 
 and thought, are clearly giving place to a style more direct, and to a 
 spirit of more intense bitterness and more scorching sarcasm. 
 
 Unknown the forms we the high-priesthood use 
 At the divine appearance of the Muse, 
 Which to divulge might shake profane belief, 
 And tell the irreligion of my grief; 
 Grief that excused the tribute of my knees, 5 
 
 And shaped my passion in such words as these ! 
 
 Malignant goddess ! bane to my repose, 
 Thou universal cause of all my woes ; 
 Say whence it comes that thou art grown of late 
 A poor amusement for my scorn and hate; 10 
 
 The malice thou inspirest I never fail 
 On thee to wreak the tribute when I rail; 
 Fool's commonplace thou art, their weak ensconcing fort, 
 Th' appeal of dulness in the last resort : 
 Heaven, with a parent's eye regarding earth, 15 
 
 Deals out to man the planet of his birth : 
 But sees thy meteor-blaze about me shine, 
 And passing o'er, mistakes thee still for mine : 
 Ah, should I tell a secret yet unknown, 
 That thou ne'er hadst a being of thy own, 20 
 
 But a wild form dependent on the brain, ' 
 Scattering loose features o'er the optic vein; 
 
ODE ON SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE. 59 
 
 Troubling the crystal fountain of the sight, 
 
 Which darts on poet's eyes a trembling light; 
 
 Kindled while reason sleeps, but quickly flies, 
 
 Like antic shapes in dreams, from waking eyes: 
 
 In sum, a glitt'ring voice, a painted name, 5 
 
 A walking vapour, like thy sister fame. 
 
 But if thou be'st what thy mad vot'ries prate, 
 
 A female pow'r, loose-govern'd thoughts create; 
 
 Why near the dregs of youth perversely wilt thou stay, 
 
 So highly courted by the brisk and gay? 10 
 
 Wert thou right woman, thou should'st scorn to look 
 
 On an abandon'd wretch by hopes forsook; 
 
 Forsook by hopes, ill fortune's last relief, 
 
 Assign'd for life to unremitting grief; 
 
 For, let Heaven's wrath enlarge these weary days, 15 
 
 If hope e'er dawns the smallest of its rays. 
 
 Time o'er the happy takes so swift a flight, 
 
 And treads so soft, so easy, and so light, 
 
 That we the wretched, creeping far behind, 
 
 Can scarce th' impression of his footsteps find; 20 
 
 Smooth as that airy nymph so subtly borne 
 
 With inoffensive feet o'er standing corn ; 
 
 Which bow'd by evening-breeze with bending stalks, 
 
 Salutes the weary trav'ller as he walks ; 
 
 But o'er the afflicted with a heavy pace 25 
 
 Sweeps the broad scythe, and tramples on his face. 
 
 Down falls the summer's pride, and sadly shews 
 
 Nature's bare visage furrow'd as he mows: 
 
 See, Muse, what havoc in these looks appear, 
 
 These are the tyrant's trophies of a year ; 30 
 
 Since hope his last and greatest foe is fled, 
 
 Despair and he lodge ever in its stead; 
 
 March o'er the ruin'd plain with motion slow, 
 
 Still scatt'ring desolation where they go. 
 
60 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 To thee I owe that fatal bent of mind, 
 
 Still to unhappy restless thoughts inclined; 
 
 To thee, what oft I vainly strive to hide, 
 
 That scorn of fools, by fools mistook for pride; 
 
 From thee whatever virtue takes its rise, 5 
 
 Grows a misfortune, or becomes a vice; 
 
 Such were thy rules to be poetically great : 
 
 'Stoop not to int'rest, flattery, or deceit; 
 
 Nor with hired thoughts be thy devotion paid; 
 
 Learn to disdain their mercenary aid; 10 
 
 Be this thy sure defence, thy brazen wall,. 
 
 Know no base action, at no guilt turn pale ; 
 
 And since unhappy distance thus denies 
 
 T' expose thy soul, clad in this poor disguise; 
 
 Since thy few ill-presented graces seem i 5 
 
 To breed contempt where thou hast hoped esteem ' 
 
 Madness like this no fancy ever seized, 
 Still to be cheated, never to be pleased; 
 Since one false beam of joy in sickly minds 
 Is all the poor content delusion finds. — 20 
 
 There thy enchantment broke, and from this hour 
 I here renounce thy visionary pow'r; 
 And since thy essence on my breath depends, 
 Thus with a puff the whole delusion ends. 
 
EARLIEST PROSE WORKS. 
 
 I. 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS BETWEEN THE NOBLES 
 AND THE COMMONS IN ATHENS AND ROME; 
 
 AND THE CONSEQUENCES THEY HAD UPON BOTH THOSE STATES. 
 
 — Si tibi vera videtur 
 Dede manus, et si falsa est, accingeie contra. 
 
 Lucretius. 
 
 This is interesting as the first of Swift's political tracts ; and at the 
 time when it was written (1701'), his connexion with the Whig 
 party was unbroken. In the House of Commons the opposition to 
 William's Whig Ministry was factious and irreconcileable. Four 
 Ministers were the chief objects of the attack in the Commons — Lord 
 Somers (the Lord Chancellor), the Earl of Orford, Lord Halifax, and 
 the Earl of Portland. The relations between the two Houses were 
 strained to the utmost : and, failing in all other devices for attaining 
 their end, which was to attack William through his Ministers, the 
 Commons resorted to the unconstitutional method of coercing the 
 Lords, by ' tacking' their resolutions to money Bills, which could not 
 be altered by the Lords. In this position of affairs, Swift entered 
 upon the arena of political controversy, in order to point out the 
 danger involved in the action of the Commons ; and he paralleled the 
 
62 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 circumstances by examples drawn from the histories of Athens and 
 Rome, choosing the names of Miltiades, Themistocles, Pericles, and 
 Alcibiades in Athens, and the most critical phases of faction in Rome, 
 to illustrate the present case. The earlier part of this pamphlet is of 
 little interest ; but the conpfttijion (which is given here) shows much of 
 Swift's later force, and mjmy of his peculiarities of style. < 
 
 The pamphlet was a"Spnympus ; but its authorship soon became 
 known, and the knowladge\s££ured for Swift some attention from 
 the leading Whigs durin'g th'e-,*few years that yet intervened before 
 his abandonment of that party; ' 
 
 The earlier part of this pamphlet, in which Swift traces certain 
 supposed parallels between episodes of Athenian or Roman history, 
 and the phases of the current political struggle, is of small interest, 
 and shows but little of his usual power. But, in the conclusion of 
 the pamphlet, from which the following pages are taken, Swift's 
 argument becomes more telling, and his style more characteristic and 
 more forcible. 
 
 From what has been deduced of the dissensions in Rome 
 between the two bodies of patricians and plebeians, several 
 reflections may be made. 
 
 First, That when the balance of power is duly fixed in a 
 
 5 state, nothing is more dangerous or unwise than to give 
 way to the first steps of popular encroachments, which is 
 usually done either in hopes of procuring ease and quiet 
 from some vexatious clamour, or else made merchandize, 
 and merely bought and sold. This is breaking into a con- 
 
 10 stitution to serve a present expedient, or supply a present 
 exigency: the remedy of an empiric, to stifle the present 
 pain, but with certain prospect of sudden and terrible re- 
 turns. When a child grows easy and content by being 
 humoured ; and when a lover becomes satisfied by small 
 
 15 compliances, without farther pursuits; then expect to find 
 popular assemblies content with small concessions. If there 
 could one single example be brought from the whole com- 
 pass of history, of any one popular assembly, who, after 
 beginning to contend for power, ever sat down quietly with 
 
DISSENSIONS IN ATHENS AND HOME. 63 
 
 a certain share ; or if one instance could be produced of a 
 popular assembly that ever knew, or proposed, or declared 
 what share of power was their due; then might there be 
 some hopes that it were a matter ..-to be adjusted by rea- 
 sonings, by conferences, or debates : but since all that is 5 
 manifestly otherwise, I see no^'other course to be taken in 
 a settled state, than a steady Itonstant resolution in those, 
 to whom the rest of the balance is entrusted, never to give 
 way so far to popular clamoursytasjo make the least breach 
 in the constitution, through which a million of abuses and 10 
 encroachments will certainly in time force their way. 
 
 Again, from this deduction it will not be difficult to 
 gather and assign certain marks of popular encroachments • 
 by observing which, those who hold -the balance in a state 
 may judge of the degrees, and, by early remedies and appli- 15 
 cation, put a stop to the fatal consequences that would 
 otherwise ensue. What those marks are has been at large 
 deduced, and need not be here repeated. 
 
 Another consequence is this, that (with all respect for 
 popular assemblies be it spoken) it is hard to recollect one 20 
 folly, infirmity, or vice, to which a single man is subjected, 
 and from which a body of commons, either collective or 
 represented, can be wholly exempt. For, beside that they 
 are composed of men with all their infirmities about them, 
 they have also the ill fortune to be generally led and 25 
 influenced by the very worst among themselves, I mean 
 popular orators, tribunes, or, as they are now styled, great 
 speakers, leading men, and the like. Whence it comes 
 to pass, that in their results we have sometimes found 
 the same spirit of cruelty and revenge, of malice and pride, 30 
 the same blindness and obstinacy and unsteadiness, the 
 same ungovernable rage and anger, the same injustice, 
 sophistry, and fraud, that ever lodged in the breast of any 
 individual. 
 
64 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Again, in all free states, the evil to be avoided is tyranny, 
 that is to say, the summa imperii, or unlimited power solely 
 in the hands of the one, the few, or the many. Now, we 
 have shown, that although most revolutions of government 
 5 in Greece and Rome began with the tyranny of the people, 
 yet they generally concluded in that of a single person; 
 so that a usurping populace is its own dupe, a mere under 
 worker, and a purchaser in trust for some single tyrant, 
 whose state and power they advance to their own ruin, with 
 
 10 as blind an instinct as those worms that die with weaving 
 magnificent habits for beings of a superior nature to their 
 own. ■ 
 
 Some reflections upon the late public proceedings among 
 us, and that variety of factions into which we are still so 
 
 15 intricately engaged, gave occasion to this discourse. I am 
 not conscious, that I have forced one example, or put it 
 into any other light than it appeared to me long before I 
 had thought of producing it. 
 I cannot conclude, without adding some particular/ 
 
 20 remarks upon the present posture of affairs and dispositions;, 
 in this kingdom. 
 
 The fate of empire is grown a common-place : that all 
 forms of government having been instituted by men, must 
 be mortal like their authors, and have their periods of 
 
 25 duration limited, as well as those of private persons. This 
 is a truth of vulgar knowledge and observation :• but there 
 are few who turn their thoughts to examine how those 
 diseases in a state are bred, that hasten its end; which 
 would, however, be a very useful enquiry. — For, though we 
 
 30 cannot prolong the period of a commonwealth beyond 
 the decree of Heaven, or the date of its nature, any more 
 than human life beyond the strength of the seminal virtue^ 
 yet we may manage a sickly constitution, and preserve a 
 strong one ; we may watch and prevent accidents ; we may 
 
DISSENSIONS IN ATHENS AND ROME. 65 
 
 turn off a great blow from without, and purge away an ill 
 humour that is lurking within : and by these, and other 
 such methods, render a state long-lived, though not 
 immortal. Yet some physicians have thought, that if it 
 were practicable to keep the several humours of the body 5 
 in an exact equal balance of each with its opposite, it 
 might be immortal, and so perhaps would a political 
 body, if the balance of power could be always held exactly 
 even. But, I doubt, this is as impossible in practice as the 
 other. 10 
 
 It has an appearance of fatality, and that the period of a 
 state approaches, when a concurrence of many circumstances,, 
 both within and without, unite toward its ruin ; while the 
 whole body of the people are either stupidly negligent, or 
 else giving in with all their might to those very practices 15 
 that are working their destruction. To see whole bodies of 
 men breaking a constitution by the very same errors that so 
 many have been broke before ; to observe opposite parties 
 who can agree in nothing else, yet firmly united in such 
 measures as must certainly ruin their country ; in short, to 20 
 be encompassed with the greatest dangers from without, to 
 be torn by many virulent factions within; then to be 
 secure and senseless under all this, and to make it the very 
 least of our concern ; these, and some others that might be 
 named, appear to me to be the most likely symptoms in a 25 
 state of a sickness unto death. 
 
 ' Quod procul a nobis flectat fortuna gubernans : 
 Et ratio potius, quam res persuadeat ipsa.' 
 
 LuCRET. 
 
 There are some conjunctures, wherein the death or 
 dissolution of government is more lamentable in its conse- 3° 
 quences, than it would be in others. — And, I think, a state 
 can never arrive to its period in a more deplorable crisis, than 
 
 vol. 1. F 
 
66 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 at a time when some prince in the neighbourhood, of vast 
 power and ambition, lies hovering like a vulture to devour, 
 or, at least, dismember its dying carcase ; by which means 
 it becomes only a province or acquisition to some mighty 
 
 5 monarchy, without hopes of a resurrection. 
 
 I know very well, there is a set of sanguine tempers, who 
 deride and ridicule, in the number of fopperies, all such 
 apprehensions as these. They have it ready in their 
 mouths, that the people of England are of a genius aud 
 
 10 temper never to admit slavery among them ; and they are 
 furnished with a great many common-places upon that 
 subject. But it seems to me, that such discoursers do 
 reason upon short views, and a very moderate compass of 
 thought. For, I think it a great error to count upon the 
 
 15 genius of a nation as a standing argument in all ages, since 
 there is hardly a spot of ground in Europe, where the 
 inhabitants have not frequently and entirely changed their 
 temper and genius. Neither can I see any reason, why the 
 genius of a nation should be more fixed in the point of 
 
 20 government than in their morals, their learning, their 
 religion, their common humour and conversation, their diet 
 and their complexion ; which do all notoriously vary almost 
 in every age, and may every one of them have great effects 
 upon men's notions of government. 
 
 25 Since the Norman conquest, the balance of power in 
 England has often varied, and sometimes been wholly over- 
 turned ; the part which the commons had in it, (that most 
 disputed point,) in its original progress and extent, was, by 
 their own confessions, but a very inconsiderable share. 
 
 30 Generally speaking, they have been gaining ever since, 
 though with frequent interruptions and slow progress.— 
 The abolishing of villanage, together with the custom 
 introduced (or permitted) among the nobles, of selling their 
 lands, in the reign of Henry the Seventh, was a mighty 
 
DISSENSIONS IN ATHENS AND ROME. 67 
 
 addition to the power of the commons : yet I think a 
 much greater happened in the time of his successor, at the 
 dissolution of the abbeys ; for this turned the clergy wholly 
 out of the scale, who had so long filled it ; and placed the 
 commons in their stead : who, in a few years, became 5 
 possessed of vast quantities of those and other lands, by 
 grant or purchase. About the middle of Queen Elizabeth's 
 reign, I take the power between the nobles and the commons 
 to have been in more equal balance, than it was ever before 
 pr since. But then, or soon after, arose a faction in 10 
 England, which, under the name of Puritan, began to grow 
 popular, by moulding up their new schemes of religion with 
 republican principles in government ; and gaining upon the 
 prerogative as well as the nobles, under several denomina- 
 tions, for the space of about sixty years, did at last overthrow 15 
 the constitution, and, according to the usual course of such 
 revolutions, did introduce a tyranny, first of the people, and 
 then of a single person. 
 
 In a short time after, the old government was revived. 
 But the progress of affairs for almost thirty years, under the 20 
 reigns of the two weak princes, is a subject of a different 
 nature : when the balance was in danger to be overturned 
 by the hands that held it, which was at last very seasonably 
 prevented by the late revolution. However, as it is the 
 talent of human nature to run from one extreme to another, 25 
 so in a very few years we have made mighty leaps from 
 prerogative heights into the depths of popularity, and I 
 doubt to the very last degree that our constitution will bear. 
 It were to be^-wished, that the most august assembly of the 
 commons would please to form a pandect of their own 30 
 power and privileges, to be confirmed by the -entire legisla- 
 tive authority, and that in as solemn a manner (if they 
 please) as the magna charta. But to fix one foot of their 
 compass wherever they think fit, and extend the other to 
 
 f 2 
 
68 'selections from swift. 
 
 such terrible lengths, without describing any circumference 
 at all, is to leave us and themselves in a very uncertain 
 state, and in a sort of rotation, that the author of the Oceana 
 never dreamed on. I believe the most hardy tribune will 
 5 not venture to affirm at present, that any just fears of en- 
 croachment are given- us from the regal power, or the few : 
 and is it then impossible to err on the other side ? How 
 far must we proceed, or where shall we stop ? The raging 
 of the sea, and the madness of the people, are put together 
 
 io in holy writ ; and it is God alone who can say to either, 
 Hitherto shalt thou pass, and no farther. 
 
 The balance of power in a limited state is of such 
 absolute necessity, that Cromwell himself, before he had 
 perfectly confirmed his tyranny, having some occasions for 
 
 15 the appearance of a parliament, was forced to create and 
 erect an entire new House of Lords (such as it was) for a 
 counterpoise to the commons. And, indeed, considering 
 the vileness of the clay, I have sometimes wondered, that 
 no tribune of that age durst ever venture to ask the potter, 
 
 20 What dost thou make ? But it was then about the last act 
 of a popular usurpation ; and fate, or Cromwell, had already 
 prepared them for that of a single person. 
 
 I have been often amazed at the rude, passionate, and 
 mistaken results, which have at certain times fallen from 
 
 25 great assemblies, both ancient and modern, and of other 
 countries as well as our own. — This gave me the opinion, 
 I mentioned a while ago, that public conventions are liable 
 to all the infirmities, follies, and vices of private men. To 
 which, if there be any exception, it must be of such 
 
 30 assemblies, who act by universal concert, upon public prin- 
 ciples, and for public ends ; such as proceed upon debates 
 without unbecoming warmths, or influence from particular - 
 leaders and inflamers ; such, whose members, instead of 
 canvassing to procure majorities for their private opinions, 
 
DISSENSIONS IN ATHENS AND ROME. 69 
 
 are ready to comply with general sober results, though con- 
 trary to their own sentiments. Whatever assemblies act by 
 these, and other methods of the like nature, must be 
 allowed to be exempt from several imperfections, to which 
 particular men are subjected. But I think the source of 5 
 most mistakes and miscarriages in matters debated by 
 public assemblies, arises from the influence of private 
 persons upon great numbers, styled, in common phrase, 
 leading men and parties. And, therefore, when we some- 
 times meet a few words put together, which is called the 10 
 vote or resolution of an assembly, and which we cannot 
 possibly reconcile to prudence, or public good, it is most 
 charitable to conjecture, that such a vote has been conceived, 
 and born, and bred in a private brain ; afterwards raised 
 and supported by an obsequious party; and then with usual 15 
 methods confirmed by an artificial majority. For, let us 
 suppose five hundred men, mixed in point of sense and 
 honesty, as usually assemblies are ; and let us suppose these 
 men proposing, debating, resolving, voting, according to the 
 mere natural motions of their own little or much reason and 20 
 understanding; I do allow, that abundance of indigested 
 and abortive, many pernicious and foolish overtures would 
 arise, and float a few minutes ; but then they would die and 
 disappear. Because, this must be said in behalf of human- 
 kind, that common sense and plain reason, while men are 25 
 disengaged from acquired opinions, will ever have some 
 general influence upon their minds ; whereas the species of 
 folly and vice are infinite, and so different in every indi- 
 vidual, that they could never procure a majority, if other 
 corruptions did not enter to pervert men's understandings, 30 
 and misguide their wills. 
 
 To describe how parties are bred in an assembly, would 
 be a work too difficult at present, and perhaps not alto- 
 gether safe. Periculosa plenum opus alece. Whether those, 
 
70 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 who are leaders, usually arrive at that station more by a 
 sort of instinct or secret composition of their nature, or 
 influence of the stars, than by the possession of any great 
 abilities, may be a point of much dispute ; but when the 
 5 leader is once fixed, there will never fail to be followers. 
 And man is so apt to imitate, so much of the nature of 
 sheep, (imitator es, servum peats,) that whoever is so bold 
 to give the first great leap over the heads of those about 
 him, though he be the worst of the flock, shall be quickly 
 
 io followed by the rest. Besides, when parties are once 
 formed, the stragglers look so ridiculous, and become so 
 insignificant, that they have no other way but to run into 
 the herd, which at least will hide and protect them : and 
 where to be much considered, requires only to be very 
 
 15 violent. 
 
 But there is one circumstance with relation to parties, 
 Which I take to be, of all others, most pernicious in a state ■ 
 and I would be glad any partizan would help me to a 
 tolerable reason, that because Clodius and Curio happen to 
 
 20 agree with me in a few singular notions, I must therefore 
 blindly follow them in all : or, to state it at best, that 
 because Bibulus the party-man is persuaded that Clodius 
 and Curio do really propose the good of their country as 
 their chief end ; therefore Bibulus shall be wholly guided 
 
 25 and governed by them in the means and measures toward 
 it. Is it enough for Bibulus, and the rest of the herd, to 
 say, without farther examining, I am of the side with 
 Clodius, or I vote with Curio ? Are these proper methods 
 to form and make up what they think fit to call the united 
 
 30 wisdom of the nation ? Is it not possible, that upon 
 some occasion Clodius may be bold and insolent, borne 
 away by his passion, malicious and revengeful? That 
 Curio may be corrupt, and expose to sale his tongue 
 or his pen? I conceive it far below the dignity, both 
 
DISSENSIONS IN ATHENS AND ROME. 71 
 
 of human nature and human reason, to be engaged in 
 any party, the most plausible soever, upon such servile 
 conditions. 
 
 This influence of one upon many, which seems to be as 
 great in a people represented, as it was of old in the com- 5 
 mons collective, together with the consequences it has had 
 upon the legislature, has given me frequent occasion to 
 reflect upon what Diodorus tells us of one Charondas, a 
 lawgiver to the Sybarites, an ancient people of Italy, who 
 was so averse from all innovation, especially when it was to 10 
 proceed from particular persons, (and I suppose, that he 
 might put it out of the power of men fond of their own 
 notions to disturb the constitution at their pleasures, by 
 advancing private schemes,) that he provided a statute, that 
 whoever proposed any alteration to be made, should step 15 
 out and do it with a rope about his neck : if the matter 
 proposed were generally approved, then it should pass into 
 a law ; if it went in the negative, the proposer to be 
 immediately hanged. Great ministers may talk of what 
 projects they please ; but I am deceived if a more effectual 20 
 one could ever be found for taking off (as the present phrase 
 is) those hot, unquiet spirits, who disturb assemblies, and 
 obstruct public affairs, by gratifying their pride, their malice, 
 their ambition, or their avarice. 
 
 Those who in a late reign began the distinction between 25 
 the personal and politic capacity, seem to have had reason, 
 if they judged of princes by themselves ; for, I think, there 
 is hardly to be found through all nature a greater difference 
 between two things, than there is between a representing 
 commoner in the function of his public calling, and the 30 
 same person when he acts in the common offices of life. 
 Here he allows himself to be upon a level with the rest of 
 mortals ; here he follows his own reason, and his own way ; 
 and rather affects a singularity in his actions and thoughts, 
 
72 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 than servilely to copy either from the wisest of his neigh- 
 bours. In short, here his folly and his wisdom, his reason 
 and his passions, are all of his own growth, not the echo or 
 infusion of other men. But when he is got near the walls 
 5 of his assembly, he assumes and affects an entire set of very 
 different airs ; he conceives himself a being of a superior 
 nature to those without, and acting in a sphere where the 
 vulgar methods for the conduct of human life can be of no 
 use. He is listed in a party where he neither knows the 
 
 10 temper, nor designs, nor perhaps the person, of his leader ; 
 but whose opinions he follows and maintains with a zeal and 
 faith as violent as a young scholar does those of a philo- 
 sopher whose sect he is taught to profess. He has neither 
 opinions, nor thoughts,' nor actions, nor talk, that he can 
 
 15 call his own, but all conveyed to him by his leader, as 
 wind is through an organ. The nourishment he receives 
 has been not only chewed, but digested, before it comes 
 into his mouth. Thus instructed, he follows the party, 
 right or wrong, through all its sentiments, and acquires 
 
 20 a courage and stiffness of opinion not at all congenial 
 with him. 
 
 This encourages me to hope, that, during the present 
 lucid interval, the members retired to their homes may sus- 
 pend a while their acquired complexions, and, taught by the 
 
 .25 calmness of the scene and the season, reassume the native 
 sedateness of their temper. If this should be so, it would 
 be wise in them, as individual and private mortals, to look 
 back a little upon the storms they have raised, as well as 
 those they have escaped : to reflect, that they have been 
 
 .30 authors of a new and wonderful thing in England, which is, 
 for a House of Commons to lose the universal favour of the 
 numbers they represent : to observe, how those whom they 
 ■thought fit to persecute for righteousness' sake have been 
 openly caressed by the people ; and to remember how them- 
 
DISSENSIONS IN ATHENS AND ROME. 73 
 
 selves sate in fear of their persons from popular rage. 
 Now, if they would know the secret of all this unpre- 
 cedented proceeding in their masters, they must not impute 
 it to their freedom in debate, or declaring their opinions, 
 but to that unparliamentary abuse of setting individuals 5 
 upon their shoulders, who were hated by God and man. 
 For it seems the mass of the people, in such conjunctures 
 as this, have opened their eyes, and will not endure to be 
 governed by Clodius and Curio, at the head of their myr- 
 midons, though these be ever so numerous, and composed iq 
 of their own representatives. 
 
 This aversion of the people against the late proceedings 
 of the commons is an accident, that, if it last a while, might 
 be improved to good uses for setting the balance of power 
 a little more upon an equality than their late measures seem 1 5 
 to promise or admit. This accident may be imputed to 
 two causes : the first is a universal fear and apprehension of 
 the greatness and power of France, whereof the people in 
 general seem to be very much and justly possessed, and, 
 therefore, cannot but resent to see it, in so critical a 20 
 juncture, wholly laid aside by their ministers, the commons. 
 The other cause is a great love and sense of gratitude in the 
 people toward their present king, grounded upon a long 
 opinion and experience of his merit, as well as concessions 
 to all their reasonable desires ; so that it is for some time 25 
 they have begun to say, and to fetch instances where he 
 has in many things been hardly used. How long these 
 humours may last, (for passions are momentary, and 
 especially those of a multitude,) or what consequences they 
 may produce, a little time will discover. But whenever it 3° 
 comes to pass that a popular assembly, free from such 
 obstructions, and already possessed of more power than an 
 equal balance will allow, shall continue to think they have 
 not enough, but by cramping the hand that holds the 
 
74 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 balance, and by impeachments or dissensions with the 
 nobles, endeavour still for more ; I cannot possibly see, in 
 the common course of things, how the same causes can 
 produce different effects and consequences among us, from 
 5 what they did in Greece and Rome. 
 
II. 
 A TALE OF A TUB; 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE UNIVERSAL IMPROVEMENT OF MANKIND. 
 Diu mullumque desideratum. 
 
 This, the earliest and, in some respects, the most characteristic 
 product of Swift's peculiar genius, after it had reached its full strength 
 and maturity, was published in 1704. According to the Bookseller's 
 Preface, it had been written some seven years before ; but although 
 this tallies with a. story that Swift had begun the work during his 
 residence at Kilroot, we need not give implicit credit to the date 
 assigned. The book was the product of the years which just pre- 
 ceded its publication, quite as much as of any earlier epoch of Swift's 
 life ; and it represents Swift's genius in its full development, not in 
 that unsettled and brooding mood which overshadowed his powers 
 in the Kilroot days. 
 
 The aim of the Book is too wide and its treatment too discursive* to 
 admit of any summary description. At the time it was written Swift 
 was in alliance with the Whigs, and looked to them for possible 
 promotion. But he was also an ardent Churchman, tending more 
 and more strongly in the direction of that strong High Churchism 
 which was eventually to lead him to a breach with his political 
 friends. So far as it has a direct and obvious ecclesiastical intention, 
 Swift's satire attacks the extravagance of superstition on the one 
 hand, and fanaticism on the other. He shows how nearly allied 
 these two are, and he indicates how his own Churoh has a path 
 marked out for her which lies between the two extremes. To 
 politics he makes no direct reference whatever. But the more 
 permanent and deeper intention of the satire is wider than either 
 ecclesiastical or political struggle. He lays bare the foibles of human 
 nature : he shows how these underlie all our struggles : how im- 
 possible it is for us to escape from them : and how vanity, and the 
 more deeply-rooted pride that would fain escape from vanity, are 
 hemming us in on every side. The absurdity of the pedant and of 
 the wit : of the sceptic and of the fanatic : of those who pursue fame, 
 and of those who presume to distribute her favours — all are alike 
 
J6 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 thrown into the crucible, and we feel that Swift's pitiless analysis 
 goes much deeper than this or that phase of vanity as typified in the 
 more obvious ecclesiastical or political divisions. It is partly from 
 the very width of his grasp of the motives that underlie human 
 action, which to him lessens the importance of current controversies, 
 and partly from his loneliness, and apathy to the ordinary feelings of 
 men, that Swift's satire presents so much that to most men appears 
 irreverent, even although, in writing it, he supposed himself engaged in 
 the defence of his own Church, and disavowed, with sincere indigna^ : 
 tion, any insinuation that he had treated sacred things with ridicule. 
 
 A work so unique as this could have followed no model : but 
 perhaps the influence most apparent is that of Butler's Hudibras, 
 which, we are told, Swift could repeat by heart. 
 
 The book appeared anonymously, and some care was taken to 
 conceal the author's name. Rumour suggested various names : 
 amongst others those of two students at Oxford, Edmund Smith (who 
 wrote a forgotten Tragedy called Phaedra and Hippolitus), and John 
 Philips, the author of the Splendid Shilling ; that of Smalridge, whose 
 ecclesiastical reputation required him immediately to disown the 
 charge ; and finally that of Lord Somers. But the belief in Swift's 
 authorship early prevailed, and has never, even in spite of Johnson's 
 doubts, been seriously impugned. 
 
 DEDICATION 
 To the Right Honourable John Lord Somers. 
 My Lord, 
 Although the author has written a large dedication, yet 
 5 that being addressed to a prince, whom I am never likely to 
 have the honour of being known to ; a person besides, as 
 far as I can observe, not at all regarded, or thought on by 
 any of our present writers ; and being wholly free from that 
 slavery which booksellers usually lie under, to the caprice 
 io of authors ; I think it a wise piece of presumption to in- 
 scribe these papers to your lordship, and to implore your 
 lordship's protection of them. God and your lordship 
 know their faults and their merits; for, as to my own 
 particular, I am altogether a stranger to the matter; and 
 1 5 though everybody else should be equally ignorant, I do not 
 
. -z.^- ^/*-" A TALE 0F A TUB ^ 
 
 Lr'/ '' 
 
 fear the sale of the bopk, at all the worse, upon that score. 
 Your lordship's name on the front in capital letters will at 
 any time get off one edition ; neither would I desire any 
 other help to grow an alderman, than a patent for the sole 
 privilege of dedicating to your lordship. 5 i 
 
 I should now, in right of a dedicator, give your lordship v 
 a list of your own virtues, and, at the same time, be very 
 unwilling to offend your modesty; but chiefly, I should 
 celebrate your liberality towards men of great parts and 
 small fortunes, and give you broad hints that I mean 10 
 myself. And I was just going on, in the usual method, to 
 peruse a hundred or two of dedications, and transcribe an 
 abstract to be applied to your lordship ; but I was diverted 
 by a certain accident : for, upon the covers of these papers, 
 I casually observed written in large letters the two following 15 
 words, DETUR DIGNISSIMO ; which, for aught I knew, 
 might contain some important meaning. But it unluckily 
 fell out, that none of the authors I employed understood 
 Latin ; (though I have them often in pay to translate out of 
 that language ;) I was therefore compelled to have recourse 20 
 to the curate of our parish, who englished it thus, Let it be 
 given to the worthiest : and his comment was, that the 
 author meant his work should be dedicated to the sublimest 
 genius of the age for wit, learning, judgment, eloquence, and 
 wisdom. I called at a poet's chamber (who works for my 25 
 shop) in an alley hard by, shewed him the translation, and 
 desired his opinion, who it was that the author could mean : 
 he told me, after some consideration, that vanity was a 
 thing he abhorred; but, by the description,- he thought 
 himself to be the person aimed at ; and, at the same time, 30 
 he very kindly offered his own assistance gratis towards 
 penning a dedication to himself. I desired him, however, 
 to give a second guess ; Why, then, said he, it must be I, 
 or my Lord Somers. From thence I went to several other 
 
78 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 wits of my acquaintance, with no small hazard and weariness 
 to my person, from a prodigious number of dark, winding 
 stairs ; but found them all in the same story, both of your 
 lordship and themselves. Now, your lordship is to under- 
 5 stand, that this proceeding was not of my own invention ; 
 for I have somewhere heard it is a maxim, that those to 
 whom everybody allows the second place, have an undoubted 
 title to the first. 
 
 This infallibly convinced me, that your lordship was the 
 
 to person intended by the author. But, being very un- 
 acquainted in the style and form of dedications, I employed 
 those wits aforesaid to furnish me with hints and materials, 
 towards a panegyric upon your lordship's virtues. 
 
 In two days they brought me ten sheets of paper, filled 
 
 15 up on every side. They swore to me, that they had ram 
 sacked whatever could be found in the characters of 
 Socrates, Aristides, Epaminondas, Cato, Tully, Atticus, and 
 other hard names, which I cannot now recollect. However, 
 I have reason to believe, they imposed upon my ignorance ; 
 
 20 because, when I came to read over their collections, there 
 was not a syllable there, but what I and everybody else 
 knew as well as themselves : therefore I grievously suspect 
 a cheat ; and that these authors of mine stole and subscribed 
 every word, from the universal report of mankind. So that 
 
 25 I look upon myself as fifty shillings out of pocket, to no 
 manner of purpose. 
 
 If, by altering the title, I could make the same materials 
 serve for another dedication, (as my betters have done,) it 
 would help to make up my loss ; but I have made several 
 
 30 persons dip here and there in those papers, and before they 
 read three lines, they have all assured me plainly, that they 
 cannot possibly be applied to any person besides your 
 lordship. 
 
 I expected, indeed, to have heard of your lordship's 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 79 
 
 bravery at the head of an army ; of your undaunted courage 
 in mounting a breach, or scaling a wall; or, to have had 
 your pedigree traced in a lineal descent from the house of 
 Austria ; or, of your wonderful talent at dress and dancing : 
 or, your profound knowledge in algebra, metaphysics, and 5 
 the oriental tongues. But to ply the world with an old 
 beaten story of your wit, and eloquence, and learning, and 
 wisdom, and justice, and politeness, and candour, and 
 evenness of temper in all scenes of life ; of that great dis- 
 cernment in discovering, and readiness in favouring deserving io 
 men ; with forty other common topics ; I confess, I have 
 neither conscience nor countenance to do it. Because there 
 is no virtue, either of a public or private life, which some 
 circumstances of your own have not often produced upon 
 the stage of the world ; and those few, which, for want of 15 
 occasions to exert them, might otherwise have passed unseen, 
 or unobserved, by your friends, your enemies have at length 
 brought to light. 
 
 It is true, I should be very loth, the bright example of 
 your lordship's virtues should be lost to after-ages, both for 201 
 their sake and your own ; but chiefly because they will be 
 so very necessary to adorn the history of a late reign ; and 
 that is another reason why I would forbear to make a recital 
 of them here ; because I have been told by wise men, that, 
 as dedications have run for some years past, a good his- 25 
 torian will not be apt to have recourse thither in search of 5 
 characters. 
 
 There is one point, wherein I think we dedicators would 
 do well to change our measures ; I mean, instead of running 
 , on so far upon the praise of our patrons' liberality, to spend 30 
 -^a word t>r two in admiring their patience. I can put no 
 greater compliment on your lordship's, than by giving you 
 so ample an occasion to exercise it at present. — Though 
 perhaps I shall not be apt to reckon much merit to your 
 
80 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 lordship upon that score, who having been formerly used to 
 tedious harangues, and sometimes to as little purpose, will 
 be the readier to pardon this ; especially, when it is offered 
 by one, who is with all respect and veneration, 
 S My Lord, 
 
 Your lordship's most obedient, 
 
 And most faithful servant, 
 
 The Bookseller. 
 
 The Bookseller to the Reader. 
 
 io It is now six years since these papers came first to my 
 hand, which seems to have been about a twelvemonth after 
 they were written ; for the author tells us in his preface to 
 the first treatise, that he has calculated it for the year 1697, 
 and in several passages of that discourse, as well as the 
 
 15 second, it appears they were written about that time. 
 
 As to the author, I can give no manner of satisfaction ; 
 however, I am credibly informed, that this publication is 
 without his knowledge ; for he concludes the copy is lost, 
 having lent it to a person, since dead, and being never in 
 
 20 possession of it after : so that, whether the work received : 
 his last hand, or whether he intended to fill up the defective ; 
 places, is likely to remain a secret. 
 
 If I should go about to tell the reader, by what accident 
 I became master of these papers, it would, in this un- 
 
 25 believing age, pass for little more than the cant or jargon of 
 the trade. I therefore gladly spare both him and myself 
 so unnecessary a trouble. There yet remains a difficult 
 question, why I published them no sooner. I forbore upon 
 two accounts; first, because I thought I had better work 
 
 30 upon my own hands ; and secondly, because I was not with- 
 out some hope of hearing from the author, and receiving his 
 directions. But I have been lately alarmed with intelligence 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 8 1 
 
 of a surreptitious copy, which a certain great wit had new 
 polished and refined, or, as our present writers express 
 themselves, fitted to the humour of the age ; as they have 
 already done, with great felicity, to Don Quixote, Boccalini, 
 la Bruyere, and other authors. However, I thought it fairer 5 
 dealing to offer the work in its naturals. If any gentleman 
 will please to furnish me with a key, in order to explain the 
 more difficult parts, I shall very gratefully acknowledge the 
 favour, and print it by itself. 
 
 The Epistle Dedicatory, to His Royal Highness 10 
 
 Prince Posterity. 
 Sir, 
 
 I here present your highness with the fruits of a very few 
 leisure hours, stolen from the short intervals of a world of 
 business, and of an employment quite alien from such 15 
 amusements as this the poor production of that refuse of 
 time, which has lain heavy upon my hands, during a long 
 prorogation of parliament, a great dearth of foreign news, 
 and a tedious fit of rainy weather : for which, and other 
 reasons, it cannot choose extremely to deserve such a 20 
 patronage as that of your highness, whose numberless 
 virtues, in so few years, make the world look upon you as 
 the future example to all princes ; for although your highness 
 is hardly got clear of infancy, yet has the universal learned 
 world already resolved upon appealing to your future 25 
 dictates, with the lowest and most resigned submission; 
 fate having decreed you sole arbiter of the productions of 
 human wit, in this polite and most accomplished age. Me- 
 thinks, the number of appellants were enough to shock and 
 startle any judge, of a genius less unlimited than yours : 30 
 but, in order to prevent such glorious trials, the person, it 
 seems, to whose care the education of your highness is 
 
 vol. 1. G 
 
8a SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 committed, has resolved (as I am told) to keep you in almost 
 a universal ignorance of our studies, which it is your inherent 
 birth-right to inspect. 
 
 It is amazing to me, that this person should have th^ as- 
 
 5 surance, in the face of the sun, to go about persuading yo^ 
 highness, that our age is almost wholly illiterate, and has 
 hardly produced one writer upon any subject. I know very 
 well, that when your highness shall come to riper years, and I 
 have gone through the learning of antiquity, you will be too 
 
 10 curious, to neglect inquiring into the authors of the very age 
 before you : and to think that this insolent, in the account 
 he is preparing for your view, designs to reduce them to a 
 number so insignificant as I am ashamed to mention; it 
 moves my zeal and my spleen for the honour and interest 
 
 15 of our vast flourishing body, as well as of myself, for whom, 
 I know by long experience, he has professed, and still 
 continues, a peculiar malice. 
 
 It is not unlikely, that, when your highness will one day 
 peruse what I am now writing, you may be ready to ex- 
 
 20 postulate, with your governor, upon the credit of what I 
 here affirm, and command him to shew you some of our 
 productions. To which he will answer, (for I am well 
 informed of his designs,) by asking your highness, where. 
 they are ? and what is become of them ? and pretend it a 
 
 25 demonstration that there never were any, because they are 
 not then to be found. Not to be found ! who has mislaid 
 them ? are they sunk in the abyss of things ? it is certain, 
 that in their own nature, they were light enough to swim 
 upon the surface for all eternity. Therefore the fault is in 
 
 30 him, who tied weights so heavy to their heels, as to depress 
 them to the centre. Is their very essence destroyed? who 
 has annihilated them? were they drowned by purges, or 
 martyred by pipes ? But, that it may no longer be a doubt 
 with your highness, who is to be the author of this universal 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 83 
 
 ruin, I beseech you to observe that large and terrible scythe 
 which your governor affects to bear continually about him. 
 Be pleased to remark the length and strength, the sharpness 
 and hardness, of his nails and teeth : consider his baneful, 
 abominable breath, enemy to life and matter, infectious and 5 
 corrupting : and then reflect, whether it be possible, for any 
 mortal ink and paper of this generation, to make a suitable 
 resistance. O ! that your highness would one day resolve 
 to disarm this usurping maitre du palais of his furious 
 engines, and bring your empire hors de page. 10 
 
 It were needless to recount the several methods of 
 tyranny and destruction, which your governor is pleased to 
 practise upon this occasion. His inveterate malice is such 
 to the writings of our age, that of several thousands 
 produced yearly from this renowned city, before the next 15 
 revolution of the sun, there is not one to be heard of: , 
 Unhappy infants ! many of them barbarously destroyed, / 
 before they have so much as learnt their mother tongue to / 
 beg for pity. Some he stifles in their cradles; others he/ 
 frights into convulsions, whereof they suddenly die; somepo 
 he flays alive, others he tears limb from limb. Great! 
 numbers are offered to Moloch ; and the rest, tainted by his I 
 breath, die of a languishing consumption. 
 
 But the concern I have most at heart, is for our cor- 
 poration of poets ; from whom I am preparing a petition to 25 
 your highness, to be. subscribed with the names of one 
 hundred and thirty-six of the first rate ; but whose immortal 
 productions are never likely to reach your eyes, though each 
 of them is now an humble and earnest appellant for the laurel, 
 and has large comely volumes ready to shew, for a support 30 
 to his pretensions. The never-dying works of these illus- 
 trious persons, your governor, sir, has devoted to unavoidable 
 death ; and your highness is to be made believe, that our age 
 has never arrived at the honour to produce one single poet. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 We confess Immortality to be a great and powerful 
 
 goddess ; but in vain we offer up to her our devotions and 
 
 our sacrifices, if your highness's governor, who has usurped 
 
 the priesthood, must, by an unparalleled ambition and 
 
 5 avarice, wholly intercept and devour them. 
 
 To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned, and devoid 
 of writers in any kind, seems to be an assertion so bold 
 and so false, that I have been some time thinking, the 
 contrary may almost be proved by uncontrollable demon- 
 
 10 stration. It is true, indeed, that although their numbers be 
 vast, and their productions numerous in proportion, yet are 
 they hurried so hastily off the scene, that they escape our 
 memory, and elude our sight. When I first thought of this 
 address, I had prepared a copious list of titles to present 
 
 15 your highness, as an undisputed argument for what I affirm. 
 The originals were posted fresh upon all gates and corners 
 of streets ; but, returning in a very few hours to take a 
 review, they were all torn down, and fresh ones in their 
 places. I inquired after them among readers and book- 
 
 20 sellers ; but I inquired in vain ; the memorial of them was 
 lost among men ; their place was no more to be found ; 
 and I was laughed to scorn for a clown and a pedant, 
 without all taste and refinement, little versed in the course 
 of present affairs, and that knew nothing of what had passed 
 
 25 in the best companies of court and town. So that I can 
 only avow in general to your highness, that we do abound 
 in learning and wit ; but to fix upon particulars, is a task 
 too slippery for my slender abilities. If I should venture 
 in a windy day to affirm to your highness, that there is a 
 
 30 large cloud near the horizon, in the form of a bear ; another 
 in the zenith, with the head of an ass ; a third to the west- 
 ward, with claws like a dragon ; and your highness should in 
 a few minutes think fit to examine the truth, it is certain 
 they would all be. changed in figure and position : new ones 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 85 
 
 would arise, and all we could agree upon would be, that 
 clouds there were, but that I was grossly mistaken in the zoo- 
 graphy and topography of them. 
 
 But your governor perhaps may still insist, and put the 
 question, — What is then become of those immense bales of 5 
 paper, which must needs have been employed in such 
 numbers of books? can these also be wholly anninilate, 
 and so of a sudden, as I pretend? What shall I say in 
 return of so invidious an objection ? Books, like men their 
 authors, have no more than one way of coming into the jo 
 world, but there are ten thousand to go out of it, and return 
 no more. 
 
 I profess to your highness, in the integrity of my heart, 
 that what I am going to say is literally true this minute I 
 am writing : what revolutions may happen before it shall be 15 
 ready for your perusal. I can by no means warrant : how- 
 ever, I beg you to accept it as a specimen of our learning, 
 our politeness, and our wit. I do therefore affirm, upon 
 the word of a sincere man, that there is now actually in 
 being a certain poet, called John Dryden, whose translation 20 
 of Virgil was lately printed in a large folio, well bound, and, 
 if diligent search were made, for aught I know, is yet to be 
 seen. There is another, called Nahum Tate, who is ready 
 to make oath, that he has caused many reams of verse to be 
 published, whereof both himself and his bookseller, (if law- 25 
 fully required,) can still produce authentic copies, and 
 therefore wonders why the world is pleased to make such a 
 secret of it. There is a third, known by the name of Tom 
 Durfey, a poet of a vast comprehension, a universal genius, 
 and most profound learning. There are also one Mr. Rymer, 30 
 and one Mr. Dennis, most profound critics. There is a 
 person styled Dr. Bentley, who has written near a thousand 
 pages of immense erudition, giving a full and true account 
 of a certain squabble, of wonderful importance, between 
 
86 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 himself and a bookseller : he is a writer of infinite wit and 
 humour ; no man rallies with a better grace, and in more 
 sprightly turns. Farther, I avow to your highness, that with 
 these eyes I have beheld the person of William Wotton, 
 5 B.D., who has written a good sizeable volume against a 
 friend of your governor, (from whom, alas ! he must there- 
 fore look for little favour,) in a most gentlemanly style, 
 adorned with the utmost politeness and civility; replete 
 with discoveries equally valuable for their novelty and use; 
 
 10 and embellished with traits of wit, so poignant and so ap- 
 posite, that he is a worthy yokemate to his forementioned 
 friend. 
 
 Why should I go upon farther particulars, which might 
 fill a volume with the just eulogies of my contemporary 
 
 15 brethren? I shall bequeath this piece of justice: to a larger, 
 work, wherein I intend to write a character of the present ] 
 set of wits in our nation : their persons I shall describe 
 particularly and at length, their genius and understandings 
 in miniature. ^ 
 
 20 In the meantime, I do here make bold to present your 
 highness with a faithful abstract, drawn from the universal 
 body of all arts and sciences, intended wholly for your 
 service and instruction : nor do I doubt in the least, but 
 your highness will peruse it as carefully, and make as con- 
 
 25 siderable improvements, as other young princes have already 
 done, by the many volumes of late years written for a help 
 to their studies. 
 
 That your highness may advance in wisdom and virtue, 
 as well as years, and at last outshine all your royal ancestors, 
 
 30 shall be the daily prayer of, Sir, 
 
 Your Highness's most devoted, &c. 
 Dec. 1697. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 87 
 
 TAe Author's Preface. 
 
 The wits of the present age being so very numerous and 
 penetrating, it seems the grandees of church and state begin 
 to fall under horrible apprehensions, lest these gentlemen, 
 during the intervals of a long peace, should find leisure to 5 
 pick holes in the weak sides of religion and government. 
 To prevent which, there has been much thought employed 
 of late, upon certain projects for taking off the force and 
 edge of those formidable inquirers, from canvassing and 
 reasoning upon such delicate points. They have at length 10 
 fixed upon one, which will require some time as well as cost 
 to perfect. Meanwhile, the danger hourly increasing, by 
 new levies of wits, all appointed (as there is reason to fear) 
 with pen, ink, and paper, which may, at an hour's warning, 
 be drawn out into pamphlets, and other offensive weapons, 15 
 ready for immediate execution, it was judged of absolute 
 necessity, that some present expedient be thought on, till 
 the main design can be brought to maturity. To this end, 
 at a grand committee some days ago, this important dis- 
 covery was made by a certain curious and refined observer 20 
 — that seamen have a custom, when they meet a whale, to 
 fling him out an empty tub by way of amusement, to divert 
 him from laying violent hands upon the ship. This parable 
 was immediately mythologised ; the whale was interpreted 
 to be Hobbes's Leviathan, which tosses and plays with all 25 
 schemes of religion and government, whereof a great many 
 are hollow, and dry, and empty, and noisy, and wooden, and 
 given to rotation : this is the leviathan, whence the terrible 
 wits of our age are said to borrow their weapons. The ship 
 in danger is easily understood to be its old antitype, the 30 
 commonwealth. But how to analyze the tub, was a matter of 
 difficulty; when, after long inquiry and debate, the literal 
 meaning was preserved ; and it was decreed, that, in order to 
 
7 88 SELECTIONS FROM SWIET. 
 
 prevent these leviathans from tossing and sporting with the 
 
 commonwealth, which of itself is too apt to fluctuate, they 
 
 should be diverted from that game by a Tale of a Tub. And, 
 
 my genius being conceived to lie not unhappily that way, 
 
 5 I had the honour done me to be engaged in the performance. 
 
 This is the sole design in publishing the following treatise,,/ 
 
 which I hope will serve for an interim of some months to 
 
 employ those unquiet spirits, till the perfecting of that great 
 
 work ; into the secret of which, it is reasonable the courteous 
 
 io reader should have some little light. 
 
 It is intended, that a large academy be erected, capable 
 of containing nine thousand seven hundred forty and three 
 persons ; which, by modest computation, is reckoned to be 
 pretty near the current number of wits in this island. These 
 15 are to be disposed into the several schools of this academy^ 
 and there pursue those studies to which their genius most 
 inclines them. The undertaker himself will publish his 
 proposals with all convenient speed ; to which I shall refer 
 the curious reader for a more particular account, mentioning 
 20 at present only a few of the principal schools. There is the 
 spelling school, a very spacious building : the school of look- 
 ing-glasses : the school of swearing: the school of critics: the 
 school of hobby-horses : the school of poetry : the school of 
 tops : the school of spleen : the school of gaming : with many 
 25 others, too tedious to recount. No person to be admitted 
 member into any of these schools, without an attestation 
 under two sufficient persons' hands, certifying him to be a wit. 
 But, to return : I am sufficiently instructed in the principal 
 duty of a preface, if my genius were capable of arriving 
 30 at it. Thrice have I forced my imagination to make the 
 tour of my invention, and thrice it has returned empty: 
 the latter having been wholly drained by the following 
 treatise. Not so, my more successful brethren the moderns 5 
 who will by no means let slip a preface or dedication, without 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 89 
 
 some notable distinguishing stroke to surprise the reader 
 at the entry, and kindle a wonderful expectation of what is 
 to ensue. Such was that of a most ingenious poet, who, 
 soliciting his brain for something new, compared himself to 
 the hangman, and his patron to the patient : this was insigne, 5 
 recens, indicium ore alio. When I went through that neces- 
 sary and noble course of study, I had the happiness to 
 observe many such egregious touches, which I shall not 
 injure the authors by transplanting: because I have re- 
 marked, that nothing is so very tender as a modern piece 10 
 of wit, and which is apt to suffer so much in the carriage. 
 Some things are extremely witty to-day, or fasting, or in 
 this place, or at eight o'clock, or over a bottle, or spoke by 
 Mr. What'd'y'call'm, or in a summer's morning : any of the 
 j which, by the smallest transposal or misapplication, is utterly 1 5 
 annihilate. Thus, wit has its walks and purlieus, out of 
 •i which it may not stray the breadth of a hair, upon peril of 
 ' Jtbeing lost. The moderns have artfully fixed this mercury, 
 and reduced it to the circumstances of time, place, and 
 person. Such a jest there is, that will not pass out of 20 
 Covent-Garden ; and such a one, that is nowhere intelligible 
 but at Hyde-Park corner. Now, though it sometimes ten- 
 derly affects me to consider, that all the towardly passages I 
 shall deliver in the following treatise, will grow quite out of 
 date and relish with the first shifting of the present scene, 25 
 yet I must needs subscribe to the justice of this proceeding : 
 because, I cannot imagine why we should be at the expense 
 to furnish wit for succeeding ages, when the former have 
 made no sort of provision for ours : wherein I speak the 
 sentiment of the very newest, and consequently the most 30/ 
 orthodox refiners, as well as my own. However, being <J 
 extremely solicitous, that every accomplished person, who 
 has got into the taste of wit calculated for this present 
 month of August, 1697, should descend to the very bottom 
 
90 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 of all the sublime, throughout this treatise ; I hold fit to lay 
 down this general maxim : whatever reader desires to have 
 a thorough comprehension of an author's thoughts, cannot 
 take a better method, than by putting himself into the cir- 
 5 cumstances and postures of life, that the writer was in upon 
 every important passage, as it flowed from his pen : for this 
 will introduce a parity, and strict correspondence of ideas, 
 between the reader and the author. Now, to assist the 
 diligent reader in so delicate an affair, as far as brevity will 
 
 io permit, I have recollected, that the shrewdest pieces of this 
 treatise were conceived in bed in a garret : at other times, 
 for a reason best known to myself, I thought fit to sharpen 
 my invention with hunger ; and in general, the whole work 
 was begun, continued, and ended, under a long course of 
 
 15 physic, and a great want of money. Now, I do affirm, it \, 
 will be absolutely impossible for the candid peruser to go 
 along with me in a great many bright passages, unless, upon 
 the several difficulties emergent, he will please to capacitate 
 and prepare himself by these directions. And this I lay 
 
 20 down as my principal postulatum. 
 
 Because I have professed to be a most devoted servant 
 of all modern forms, I apprehend some curious wit may 
 object against me, for proceeding thus far in a preface, 
 without declaiming, according to the custom, against the 
 
 25 multitude of writers, whereof the whole multitude of writers 
 most reasonably complain. I am just come from perusing 
 some hundreds of prefaces, wherein the authors do, at the 
 very beginning, address the gentle reader concerning this 
 enormous grievance. Of these I have preserved a few 
 
 30 examples, and shall set them down as near as my memory 
 has been able to retain them. 
 One begins thus : 
 For a man to set up for a writer, when the press swarms 
 with, &c. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 9 1 
 
 Another : 
 
 The tax upon paper does not lessen the number of 
 scribblers, who daily pester, &c. 
 Another : 
 
 When every little would-be wit takes pen in hand, 'tis in 5 
 vain to enter the lists, &c. 
 Another : 
 
 To observe what trash the press swarms with, &c. 
 Another : 
 
 Sir, It is merely in obedience to your commands, that I 10 
 venture into the public ; for who upon a less consideration 
 would be of a party with such a rabble of scribblers, &c. 
 
 Now, I have two words in my own defence against this 
 objection. First, I am far from granting the number of 
 writers a nuisance to our nation, having strenuously main- 15' 
 tainedthe contrary, in several parts of the following discourse. 
 Secondly, I do not well understand the justice of this pro- 
 ceeding ; because I observe many of these polite prefaces 
 to be not only from the same hand, but from those who are 
 most voluminous in their several productions. Upon which, 20 
 I shall tell the reader a short tale. 
 
 A mountebank, in Leicester-fields, had drawn a huge 
 assembly about him. Among the rest, a fat unwieldy fellow, 
 half stifled in the press, would be every fit crying out Lord ! 
 what a filthy crowd is here ! pray, good people, give way a 25 
 little. Bless me ! what a devil has raked this rabble to- 
 gether ! z — ds ! what squeezing is this ! honest friend, remove 
 your elbow. At last a weaver, that stood next him, could 
 hold no longer. A plague confound you, (said he,) for an 
 overgrown sloven ; and who, in the devil's name, I wonder, 3° 
 helps to make up the crowd half so much as yourself? 
 Don't you consider, with a plague, that you take up more room 
 with that carcase, than any five here ? is not the place as 
 free for us as for you ? bring your own guts to a reasonable 
 
02 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 compass, and be d— n'd, and then I'll engage we shall have 
 room enough- for us all. 
 
 There are certain common privileges of a writer, the 
 benefit whereof, I hope, there will be no reason to doubt; 
 5 particularly, that where I am not understood, it shall be 
 concluded, that something very useful and profound is 
 couched underneath : and again, that whatever word or sen- 
 tence is printed in a different character, shall be judged to 
 contain something extraordinary either of wit or sublime. 
 
 to As for the liberty I have thought fit to take of praising 
 myself, upon some occasions or none, I am sure it will need 
 no excuse, if a multitude of great examples be allowed suffi- 
 cient authority: for it is here to be noted, that praise was 
 originally a pension paid by the world ; but the moderns, 
 
 15 finding the trouble and charge too great in collecting it, 
 have lately bought out the fee-simple; since which tune, 
 the right of presentation is wholly in ourselves. For this 
 reason it is, that when an author makes his own elogy, he 
 uses a certain form to declare and insist upon his title, which 
 
 20 is commonly in these or the like words, ' I speak without 
 vanity;' which I think plainly shews it to be a matter 
 of right and justice. Now I do here once for all declare, 
 that in every encounter of this nature through the following 
 treatise, the form aforesaid is implied ; which I mention, . 
 
 25 to save the trouble of repeating it on so many occasions. 
 C It is a great ease to my conscience, that I have written >J 
 
 ) so elaborate and useful a discourse, without one grain of 
 
 f satire intermixed; which is the sole point wherein I have 
 taken leave to dissent from the famous originals of our age 
 
 30 and country. I have observed some satirists to use the 
 public much at the rate that pedants do a naughty boy, 
 ready horsed for discipline : first, expostulate the case, then 
 plead the necessity of the rod from great provocations, and 
 conclude every period with a lash. Now, if I know any- 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 93 
 
 thing of mankind, these gentlemen might very well spare 
 their reproof and correction : for there is not, through all 
 nature, another so callous and insensible a member, as the 
 world's posteriors, whether you apply to it the toe or the 
 birch. Besides, most of our late satirists seem to lie under 5 
 a sort of mistake ; that because nettles have the prerogative 
 to sting, therefore all other weeds must do so too. I make 
 not this comparison out of the least design to detract from 
 these worthy writers ; for it is well known among mytho- 
 logists, that weeds have the pre-eminence over all other 10 
 
 / vegetables ; and therefore the first monarch of this island, 
 whose taste and judgment were so acute and refined, did 
 very wisely root out the roses from the collar of the order, 
 and plant the thistles in their stead, as the nobler flower of 
 the two. For which reason it is conjectured by profounder 15 
 antiquaries, that the satirical itch, so prevalent in this part 
 of our island, was first brought among us from beyond the 
 Tweed. Here may it long flourish and abound : may it 
 survive and neglect the scorn of the world, with as much 
 ease and contempt, as the world is insensible to the lashes 20 
 of it. May their own dulness, or that of their party, be no 
 discouragement for the authors to proceed; but let them 
 remember, it is with wits as with razors, which are never so 
 apt to cut those they are employed on, as when they have 
 lost their edge. Besides, those, whose teeth are too rotten 25 
 to bite, are best, of all others, qualified to revenge that 
 defect with their breath. J 
 
 I am not like other men, to envy or undervalue the talents 
 I cannot reach ; for which reason I must needs bear a true 
 honour to this large eminent sect of our British writers. 3° 
 
 \ And I hope this little panegyric will not be offensive to their 
 sears, since it has the advantage of being only designed for 
 themselves. Indeed, nature herself has taken order, that 
 fame and honour should be purchased at a better penny 
 
94 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 worth by satire, than by any other productions of the brain ; 
 
 ^ the world being soonest provoked to praise by lashes, as 
 men are to love. There is a problem in an ancient author, 
 why dedications, and other bundles of flattery, run all upon 
 5 stale musty -topics, without the smallest tincture of anything 
 new ; not only to the torment and nauseating of the Chris- 
 tian reader, but, if not suddenly prevented, to the universal 
 spreading of that pestilent disease, the lethargy, in this 
 island : whereas there is very little satire, which has not 
 
 io something in it untouched before. The defects of the 
 
 former are usually imputed to the want of invention among 
 
 those who are dealers in that kind; but, I think, with a 
 
 great deal of injustice ; the solution being easy and natural ; 
 
 ** /for the materials of panegyric, being very few in number, 
 
 t$ have been long since exhausted. For, as health is but one 
 thing, and has been always the same, whereas diseases are 
 by thousands, besides new and daily additions ; so, all the 
 virtues that have been ever in mankind, are to be counted 
 upon a few fingers ; but their follies and vices are innumer- 
 
 20 able, and time adds hourly to the heap. Now the utmost a 
 poor poet can do, is to get by heart a list of the cardinal 
 virtues, and deal them with his utmost liberality to his hero, 
 or his patron ; he may ring the changes as far as it will go, 
 and vary his phrase till he has talked round : but the reader 
 
 a 5 quickly finds it is all pork, with a little variety of sauce. 
 
 i / For there is no inventing terms of art beyond our ideas ; and, 
 I when our ideas are exhausted, terms of art must be so too. 
 But though the matter for panegyric were as fruitful as 
 the topics of satire, yet would it not be hard to find out a 
 
 30 sufficient reason why the latter will be always better received 
 than the first. For, this being bestowed only upon one, or 
 a few persons at a time, is sure to raise envy, and conse- 
 quently ill words from the rest, who have no share in the 
 blessing ; but satire, being levelled at all, is never resented 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 95 
 
 for an offence by any, since every individual person makes 
 bold to understand it of others, and very wisely removes his 
 particular part of the burden upon the shoulders of the 
 world, which are broad enough, and able to bear it. To 
 this purpose, I have sometimes reflected upon, the difference .5 
 between Athens and England, with respect to the point 
 before us. In the Attic commonwealth, it was the privilege 
 and birth-right of every citizen and poet to rail aloud, and 
 in public, or to expose upon the stage, by name, any person 
 they pleased, though of the greatest figure, whether a Creon, 10 
 an Hyperbolus, an Alcibiades, or a Demosthenes : but, on 
 the other side, the least reflecting word let fall against the 
 people in general, was immediately caught up, and revenged 
 upon the authors, however considerable for their quality or 
 their merits. Whereas in England it is just the reverse of 15 
 all this. Here, you may securely display your utmost rhe- 
 toric against mankind, in the face of the world ; tell them, 
 ' That all are gone astray ; that there is none that doth good, 
 no not one ; that we live in the very dregs of time ; that 
 knavery and atheism are epidemic as the pox ; that honesty 20 
 is fled with Astraea ; ' with any other common-places, equalh/ 
 new and eloquent, which are. furnished by the splendida bilis. 
 And when you have done, the whole audience, far from 
 being offended, shall return you thanks, as a deliverer of 
 precious and useful truths. Nay, farther; it is but to 25 
 venture your lungs, and you may preach in Covent-Garden 
 against foppery and fornication, and something else : against 
 pride, and dissimulation, and bribery, at White-Hall: you 
 may expose rapine and injustice in the inns of court chapel : 
 and in a city pulpit, be as fierce as you please against 30 
 avarice, hypocrisy, and extortion. 'Tis but a ball bandied 
 to and fro, and every man carries a racket about him, to 
 J strike it from himself, among the rest of the company. But, 
 Ion the other side, whoever should mistake the nature of 
 
96 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 things so far, as to drop but a single hint in public, how 
 such a one starved half the fleet, and half poisoned the rest; 
 how such a one, from a true principle of love and honour, 
 pays no debts but for wenches and play; how such a one has 
 5 wasted his health in debauch, and runs out of his estate : how 
 Paris, bribed by Juno and Venus, loth to offend either party, 
 slept out the whole cause on the bench : or, how such an orator 
 makes long speeches in the senate, with much thought, little 
 sense, and to no purpose ; whoever, I say, should venture to be 
 
 .10 thus particular, must expect to be imprisoned for scandalurA 
 
 magnatum ; to have challenges sent him ; to be sued for 
 
 defamation ; and to be brought before the bar of the house. 
 
 But I forget that I am expatiating on a subject wherein I 
 
 have no concern, having neither a talent nor an inclination 
 
 15 for satire. On the other side, I am so entirely satisfied with 
 the whole present procedure of human things, that I have 
 been some years preparing materials towards A Panegyric 
 upon the World ; to which I intended to add a second part, 
 entitled, A modest Defence of the Proceedings of the 
 
 20 Rabble in all Ages. Both these I had thoughts to publish, 
 by way of appendix to the following treatise ; but finding my 
 common-place book fill much slower than I had reason to 
 expect, I have chosen to defer them to another occasion. 
 Besides, I have been unhappily prevented in that design by 
 
 25 a certain domestic misfortune ; in the particulars whereof, 
 
 though it would be very seasonable, and much in the modern 
 
 way, to inform the gentle reader, and would also be of great 
 
 assistance towards extending this preface into, the size now 
 
 I in vogue, which by rule ought to be large in proportion as 
 
 3d the subsequent volume is small; yet I shall now dismiss 
 our impatient reader from any farther attendance at the 
 porch, and, having duly prepared his mind by a preliminary 
 discourse, shall gladly introduce him to the sublime mys- 
 teries that ensue. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 97 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 Sect. I. — The Introduction. 
 
 Whoever has an ambition to be heard in a crowd, must 
 press, and squeeze, and thrust, and climb, with indefatigable 
 pains, till he has exalted himself to a certain degree of 5 
 altitude above them. Now, in all assemblies, though you 
 wedge them ever so close, we may observe this peculiar 
 property, that over their heads there is room enough, but 
 how to reach it is the difficult point ; it being as hard to get 
 quit of number, as of hell ; 10 
 
 ' evadere ad auras, 
 
 Hoc opus, hie labor est.' 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 To this end, the philosopher's way, in all ages, has been 
 by erecting certain edifices in the air : but, whatever practice 15 
 and reputation these kmd of structures have formerly pos- 
 sessed, or may still continue in, not excepting even that of 
 Socrates, when he was suspended in a basket to help con- 
 templation, I think, with due submission, they seem to 
 labour under two inconveniences. First, That the founda- 20 
 tions being laid too high, they have been often out of sight, 
 and ever out of hearing. Secondly, That the materials 
 being very transitory, have suffered much from inclemencies 
 of air, especially in these north-west regions. 
 
 Therefore, towards the just performance of this great 25 
 work, there remain but three methods that I can think of; 
 whereof the wisdom of our ancestors being highly sensible, 
 has, to encourage all aspiring adventurers, thought fit to 
 erect three wooden machines for the use of those orators, 
 who desire to talk much without interruption. These are, 30 
 the pulpit, the ladder, and the stage itinerant. For, as to 
 
 vol. 1. H 
 
98 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 the bar, though it be compounded of the same matter, and 
 designed for the same use, it cannot, however, be well 
 allowed the honour of a fourth, by reason of its level or 
 inferior situation exposing it to perpetual interruption from 
 
 5 collaterals. Neither can the bench itself, though raised to 
 a proper eminency, put in a better claim, whatever'its advo- 
 cates insist on. For, if they please to look into the original 
 design of its erection, and the circumstances or adjuncts 
 subservient to that design, they will soon acknowledge the 
 
 10 present practice, exactly correspondent to the primitive 
 institution, and both to answer the etymology of the name, 
 which in the Phoenician tongue is a word of great signifi- 
 cation, importing, if literally interpreted, the place of sleep; 
 but in common acceptation, a seat well bolstered and 
 
 15 cushioned, for the repose of old and gouty limbs: senesul 
 in otia tuta recedant. Fortune being indebted to them this 
 part of retaliation, that, as formerly, they have long talked, 
 while others slept ; so now they may sleep as long, while 
 others talk. 
 
 20 But if no other argument could occur, to exclude the 
 bench and the bar from the list of oratorial machines, it 
 were sufficient that the admission of them would overthrow 
 a number, which I was resolved to establish, whatever argu- 
 ment it might cost me ; in imitation of that prudent method 
 
 25 observed by many other philosophers, and g'eat clerks, 
 whose chief art in division has been to grow fond of some 
 proper mystical number, which their imaginations have 
 rendered sacred, to a degree, that they force common reason 
 to find room for it, in every part of nature ; reducing, in- 
 
 30 eluding, and adjusting, every genus and species within that 
 compass, by coupling some against their wills, and banishing 
 others at any rate. Now, among all the rest, the profound 
 number three is that which has most employed my 
 sublimest speculations, nor ever without wonderful delight. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 99 
 
 There is now in the press, and will be published next term, 
 a panegyrical essay of mine upon this number ; wherein I 
 have, by most convincing proofs, not only reduced the 
 senses and the elements under its banner, but brought over 
 several deserters from its two great rivals, seven and 5 
 v nine. 
 
 N»Now, the first of these oratorial machines, in place, as 
 well as dignity, is the pulpit. Of pulpits there are in this 
 island several sorts ; but I esteem only that made of timber 
 from the sylva Caledonia, which agrees very well with our 10 
 climate. If it be upon its decay, it is the better both for 
 conveyance of sound, and for other reasons to be men- 
 tioned by and by. The degree of perfection in shape and 
 size, I take to consist in being extremely narrow, with little 
 ornament; and, best of all, without a cover, (for, by ancient 15 
 rule, it ought to be the only uncovered vessel in every 
 assembly, where it is rightfully used,) by which means, from 
 its near resemblance to a pillory, it will ever have a mighty 
 influence on human ears. 
 
 Of ladders I need say nothing : it is observed by foreigners 20 
 themselves, to the honour of our country, that we excel all 
 nations in our practice and understanding of this machine. 
 The ascending orators do not only oblige their audience in 
 the agreeable delivery, but the whole world in the early 
 publication of their speeches ; which I look upon as the 25 
 choicest treasury of our British eloquence, and whereof, I 
 am informed, that worthy citizen and bookseller, Mr. John 
 Dunton, has made a faithful and painful collection, which 
 he shortly designs to publish, in twelve volumes in folio, 
 illustrated with copper-plates. A work highly useful and 3° 
 curious, and altogether worthy of such a hand. 
 
 The last engine of orators is the stage itinerant, erected 
 with much sagacity, sub Jove pluvio, in triviis et quadriviis. 
 It is the great seminary of the two former, and its orators 
 
IOO SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 are sometimes preferred to the one, and sometimes to the 
 other, in proportion to their deservings ; there being a strict 
 and perpetual intercourse between all three. 
 
 From this accurate deduction it is manifest, that for 
 S obtaining attention in public, there is of necessity required 
 a superior position of place. But, although this point be 
 generally granted, yet the cause is little agreed in ; and it 
 seems to me, that very few philosophers have fallen into a 
 true, natural solution of this phenomenon. The deepest 
 
 10 account, and the most fairly digested of any I have yet met 
 with, is this ; that air being a heavy body, and therefore, 
 according to the system of Epicurus, continually descending, 
 must needs be more so, when loaded and pressed down by 
 words ; which are also bodies of much weight and gravity, 
 
 15 as it is manifest from those deep impressions they make 
 and leave upon us ; and therefore must be delivered from 
 a due altitude, or else they will neither carry a good aim, 
 nor fall down with a sufficient force. 
 
 ' Corpoream quoque enim vocem constare fatendum est, 
 20 Et sonitum, quoniam possunt impellere sensua.' 
 
 Lucr. Lib. 4. 
 
 And I am the readier to favour this conjecture, from a 
 common observation, that in the several assemblies of these 
 orators, nature itself has instructed the hearers to stand with 
 
 25 their mouths open, and erected parallel to the horizon, so 
 as they may be intersected by a perpendicular line from the 
 zenith, to the centre of the earth. In which position, if the 
 audience be well compact, every one carries home a share, 
 and little or nothing is lost. 
 
 30 I confess there is something yet more refined, in the con- 
 trivance and structure of our modern theatres. For, first, 
 the pit is sunk below the stage, with due regard to the 
 institution above deduced; that, whatever weighty matter 
 shall be delivered thence, whether it be lead or gold, may 
 
TALE OF A TUB. 10 1 
 
 fall plumb into the jaws of certain critics, as I think they 
 are called, which stand ready opened to devour them. 
 Then, the boxes are built round, and raised to a level with 
 the scene, in deference to the ladies ; because, that large 
 portion of wit, laid out in raising pruriences, is observed to 5 
 run much upon a line, and ever in a circle. The whining 
 passions, and little starved conceits, are gently wafted up, 
 by their own extreme levity, to the middle region, and 
 there fix and are frozen by the frigid understandings of the 
 inhabitants. Bombastry and buffoonery, by nature lofty 10 
 and light, soar highest of all, and would be lost in the roof, 
 if the prudent architect had not, with much foresight, 
 contrived for them a fourth place, called the twelve-penny 
 gallery, and there planted a suitable colony, who greedily 
 intercept them in their passage. 15 
 
 Now this physico-logical scheme of oratorial receptacles 
 or machines, contains a great mystery; being a type, a sign, 
 an emblem, a shadow, a symbol, bearing analogy to the 
 spacious commonwealth of writers, and to those methods, 
 by which they must exalt themselves to a certain eminency 20 
 above the inferior world. By the pulpit are adumbrated 
 the writings of our modern saints in Great Brifain, asTfiey 
 have spiritualized and refined them, from the dross and 
 grossness of sense and human reason. The matter, as we 
 have said, is of rotten wood ; and that upon two considera- 25 
 tions ; because it is the quality of rotten wood, to give light 
 in the dark : and secondly, because its cavities are full of 
 worms ; which is a type with a pair of handles, having a a^ 
 respect to the two principal qualifications of the orator, and \ 
 the two different fates attending upon his works. 3° 
 
 The ladder, is an adequate symbol of faction, and of 
 poetry, to both of which so noble a number of authors are 
 indebted for their fame. Of faction, because * 
 Hiatus in MS. * * * * 
 
102 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 * ****** Of poetry, because 
 its orators do perorare with a song ; and because, climbing 
 up by slow degrees, fate is sure to turn them off, before 
 they can reach within many steps of the top : and because 
 5 it is a preferment attained by transferring of propriety, and 
 a confounding of meum and tuum. 
 
 tfnder the stage itinerant, are couched those productions 
 designed for the pleasure and delight of mortal man; 
 such as, Six-penny-worth of Wit, Westminster Drolleries, 
 
 10 Delightful Tales, Complete Jesters, and the like ; by which 
 the writers of and for Grub-street, have in these latter, ages 
 so nobly triumphed over Time; have clipped his wings, 
 pared his nails, filed his teeth, turned back his hour-glass, 
 blunted his scythe, and drawn the hob-nails out of his 
 
 15 shoes. ' It is under this class I have presumed to list my 
 present treatise, being just come from having the honour 
 conferred upon me, to be adopted a member of that illus- 
 trious fraternity. 
 
 Now, I am not unaware, how the productions of the 
 
 20 Grub-street brotherhood have of late years fallen under 
 many prejudices, nor how it has been the perpetual employ- 
 ment of two junior start-up societies to ridicule them and 
 their authors, as unworthy their established post in the 
 commonwealth of wit and learning. Their own consciences 
 
 25 will easily inform them whom I mean ; nor has the world 
 been so negligent a looker-on, as not to observe the con- 
 tinual efforts made by the societies of Gresham, and of 
 Will's, to edify a name and reputation upon the ruin of 
 ours. And this is yet a more feeling grief to us, upon the 
 
 30 regards of tenderness as well as of justice, when we reflect 
 on their proceedings not only as unjust, but as ungrateful,, 
 undutiful, and unnatural. For how can it be forgot by the 
 world or themselves, to say nothing of our own records, 
 which are full and clear in the point, that they both are 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 103 
 
 seminaries not only of our planting, but our watering too ? 
 I am informed, our two rivals have lately made an offer to 
 \ enter into the lists with united forces, and challenge us to a 
 •Comparison of books, both as to weight and number. In 
 return to which, with licence from our president, I humbly 5 
 offer two answers : first, we say, the proposal is like that 
 which Archimedes made upon a smaller affair 1 , including 
 an impossibility in the practice ; for, where can they find 
 scales of capacity enough for the first, or an arithmetician 
 of capacity enough for the second ? Secondly, we are ready 10 
 to accept the challenge; but with this condition, that a 
 third indifferent person be assigned, to whose impartial 
 judgment it shall be left to decide, which society each 
 book, treatise, or pamphlet, do most properly belong to. 
 This point, God knows, is very far from being fixed at 15 
 present ; for we are ready to produce a catalogue of some 
 thousands, which in all common justice ought to be entitled 
 to our fraternity, but by the revolted and new-fangled 
 writers, most perfidiously ascribed to the others. Upon all 
 which, we think it very unbecoming our prudence, that 20 
 the determination should be remitted to the authors them- 
 selves ; when our adversaries, by briguing and caballing, 
 have caused so universal a defection from us, that the 
 greatest part of our society has already deserted to them, 
 and our nearest friends begin to stand aloof, as if they were 25 
 half ashamed to own us. 
 
 This is the utmost I am authorized to say upon so un- 
 grateful and melancholy a subject ; because we are extreme 
 unwilling to inflame a controversy, whose continuance may 
 be so fatal to the interests of us all, desiring much rather 30 
 that things be amicably composed; and we shall so far 
 advance on our side, as to be ready to receive the two 
 prodigals with open arms, whenever they shall think fit to 
 
 1 Viz. about moving the earth. 
 
104 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 return from their husks and their harlots ; which, I think, 
 from the present course of their studies ', they most properly 
 may be said to be engaged in; and, like an indulgent 
 parent, continue to them our affection and our blessing. 
 5 But the greatest maim given to that general reception, 
 which the writings of our society have formerly received, 
 (ne^t to the transitory state of all sublunary things,) has 
 been a superficial vein among many readers of the present 
 age, who will by no means be persuaded to inspect beyond 
 
 10 the surface and the rind of things ; whereas, wisdom is a 
 fox, who, after long hunting, will at last cost you the pains 
 to dig out ; it is a cheese, which, by how much the richer, 
 has the thicker, the homelier, and the coarser coat; and 
 whereof, to a judicious palate, the maggots are the best : it 
 
 15 is a sack-posset, wherein the deeper you go, you will find it 
 the sweeter. Wisdom is a hen, whose cackling we must 
 value and consider, because it is attended with an egg ; but 
 then lastly, it is a nut, which, unless you choose with judg- 
 ment, may cost you a tooth, and pay you with nothing but 
 
 20 a worm. In consequence of these momentous truths, the 
 grubsean sages have always chosen to convey their precepts 
 and their arts, shut up within the vehicles of types and 
 fables ; which having been perhaps more careful and curious 
 in adorning, than was altogether necessary, it has fared with 
 
 25 these vehicles, after the usual fate of coaches over-finely 
 painted and gilt, that the transitory gazers have so dazzled 
 their eyes, and filled their imaginations with the outward 
 lustre, as neither to regard nor consider the person, or the 
 parts, of the owner within. A misfortune we undergo with 
 
 30 somewhat less reluctancy, because it has been common to 
 us with Pythagoras, y£sop, Socrates, and other of our 
 predecessors. 
 
 However, that neither the world, nor ourselves, may any 
 
 1 Virtuoso experiments, and modern comedies. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 105 
 
 longer suffer by such misunderstandings, I have been pre- 
 vailed on, after much importunity from my friends, to travel 
 in a complete and laborious dissertation, upon the prime 
 productions of our society; which, besides their beautiful 
 externals, for the gratification of superficial readers, have 5 
 darkly and deeply couched under them, the most finished 
 and refined systems of all sciences and arts ; as I do not 
 doubt to lay open, by untwisting or unwinding, and either 
 to draw up by exantlation, or display by incision. 
 
 This great work was entered upon some years ago, by 1° 
 one of our most eminent members : he began with the 
 History of Reynard the Fox, but neither lived to publish 
 his essay, nor to proceed farther in so useful an attempt ; 
 which is very much to be lamented, because the discovery 
 he made, and communicated with his friends, is now uni- '5 
 versally received ; nor do I think any of the learned will 
 dispute that famous treatise to be a complete body of civil 
 knowledge, and the revelation, or rather the apocalypse, 
 of all state arcana. But the progress I have made is much 
 greater, having already finished my annotations upon several 20 
 dozens ; from some of which I shall impart a few hints to 
 the candid reader, as far as will be necessary to the conclu- 
 sion at which I aim. 
 
 The first piece I have handled is that of Tom Thumb, 
 whose author was a Pythagorean philosopher. This dark 25 
 treatise contains the whole scheme of the Metempsychosis, 
 deducing the progress of the soul through all her stages. 
 
 The next is Dr. Faustus, penned by Artephius, an author 
 bonce nota, and an adeptus; he published it in the nine- 
 hundred-eighty-fourth year of his age ; this writer proceeds 3° 
 wholly by r eincrudation , or in the via humida; and the 
 marriage between Faustus and Helen does most conspi- 
 cuously dilucidate the fermenting of the male and female 
 dragon. 
 
106 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Whittington and his Cat is the work of that mysterious 
 rabbi, Jehuda Hannasi, containing a defence of the gemara 
 of the Jerusalem misna, and its just preference to that of 
 Babylon, contrary to the vulgar opinion. 
 5 The Hind and Panther. This is the masterpiece of a 
 famous writer now living, intended for a complete abstract 
 of sixteen thousand school-men, from Scotus to Bellarmin. 
 Tommy Pots. Another piece, supposed by the same 
 hand, by way of supplement to the former. 
 
 io The Wise Men of Gotham, cum appendice. This is a 
 treatise of immense erudition, being the great original and 
 fountain of those arguments, bandied about, both in France 
 and England, for a just defence of the moderns' learning 
 and wit, against the presumption, the pride, and ignorance 
 
 15 of the ancients. This unknown author has so exhausted the 
 subject, that a penetrating reader will easily discover what- 
 
 >a ever has been written since upon that dispute, to be little 
 more than repetition. An abstract of this treatise has been 
 lately published by a worthy member of our society. 
 
 20 These notices may serve to give the learned reader an 
 idea, as well as a taste, of what the whole work is likely to 
 produce ; wherein I have now altogether circumscribed my 
 thoughts and my studies ; and, if I can bring it to a per- 
 fection before I die, shall reckon I have well employed the 
 
 25 poor remains of an unfortunate life. This, indeed, is more 
 than I can justly expect, from a quill worn to the pith in 
 the service of the state, in pros and cons upon Popish plots, 
 and meal-tubs, and exclusion bills, and passive obedience, 
 and addresses of lives and fortunes, and prerogative, and 
 
 3 o property, and liberty of conscience, and letters to a friend : 
 /from an understanding and a conscience thread-bare and 
 
 ' I ragged with perpetual turning ; and from a head broken 
 i in a hundred places by the malignants of the opposite 
 I factions. Fourscore and eleven pamphlets have I written 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 107 
 
 under three reigns, and for the service of six and thirty 
 factions. But, finding the state has no farther occasion for 
 me and my ink, I retire willingly to draw it out into 
 speculations more becoming a philosopher ; having, to my 
 unspeakable comfort, passed a long life with at conscience 5 
 void of offence towards God and towards man. J 
 
 But to return. I am assured from the reader's candour, 
 that the brief specimen I have given, will easily clear all 
 the rest of our society's productions from an aspersion 
 grown, as it is manifest, out of envy and ignorance ; that 10 
 they are of little farther use or value to mankind, beyond 
 the common entertainments of their wit and their style; 
 for these I am sure have never yet been disputed by our 
 keenest adversaries : in both which, as well as the more 
 profound and mystical part, I have, throughout this treatise, i£ 
 closely followed the most applauded originals. And to 
 render all complete, I have, with much thought and appli- 
 cation of mind, so ordered, that the chief title prefixed to 
 it, I mean that under which I design it shall pass in the 
 common conversation of court and town, is modelled 20, 
 exactly after the manner peculiar to our society. 
 
 I confess to have been somewhat liberal in the business 
 of titles \ having observed the humour of multiplying them, 
 to bear great vogue among certain writers, whom I ex- 
 ceedingly reverence. And indeed it seems not unreason- 25 
 able, that books, the children of the brain, should have the 
 honour to be christened with variety of names, as well as 
 other infants of quality. Our famous Dryden has ventured 
 to proceed a point farther, endeavouring to introduce also 
 a multiplicity of god-fathers 2 ; which is an improvement of 30 
 much more advantage upon a very obvious account. It is 
 
 1 The title-page in the original was so torn, that it was not possible 
 to recover several titles which the author here speaks of. 
 
 2 See Virgil translated, &c. 
 
1Q.8 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 a pity this admirable invention has not been better cultivated,' 
 so as to grow by this time into general imitation, when such 
 an authority serves it for a precedent. Nor have ray 
 endeavours been wanting to second so useful an example ; 
 5 but it seems there is an unhappy expense usually annexed 
 to the calling of a god-father, which was clearly out of my 
 head, as it is very reasonable to believe. Where the pinch 
 lay, I cannot certainly affirm ; but having employed a world 
 of thoughts and pains to split my treatise into forty sections, 
 10 and having entreated forty lords of my acquaintance, that 
 they would do me the honour to stand, they all made it a 
 matter of conscience, and sent me their excuses. 
 
 \ Sect. II. 
 
 ' Once upon a time, there was a man who had three sons 
 
 1 5 by one wife, and all at a birth, neither could the midwife 
 tell certainly, which was the eldest. Their father died 
 while they were young ; and upon his death-bed, calling the 
 lads to him, spoke thus : 
 
 ' Sons ; because I have purchased no estate, nor was 
 
 20 born to any, I have long considered of some good legacies 
 to bequeath you ; and at last, with much care, as well as 
 expense, have provided each of you (here they are) a new 
 coat. Now, you are to understand, that these coats have 
 two virtues contained in them ; one is, that with good 
 
 25 wearing, they will last you fresh and sound as long as you 
 live : the other is, that they will grow in the same propor- 
 tion with your bodies, lengthening and widening of them- 
 selves, so as to be always fit. Here ; let me see them on 
 you before I die. So; very well; pray, children, wear 
 
 30 them clean, and brush them often. You will find in my 
 will (here it is) full instructions in every particular concerning 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 109 
 
 the wearing and management of your coats ; wherein you 
 must be very exact, to avoid the penalties I have appointed 
 for every transgression or neglect, upon which your future 
 fortunes will entirely depend. I have also commanded in 
 my will, that you should live together in one house like 5 
 brethren and friends, for then you will be sure to thrive, and 
 not otherwise.' 
 
 Here the story says, this good father died, and the three 
 sons went all together to seek their fortunes. 
 
 I shall not trouble you with recounting what adventures 10 
 they met for the first seven years, any farther than by taking 
 notice, that they carefully observed their father's will, and 
 kept their coats in very good order : that they travelled 
 through several countries, encountered a reasonable quantity 
 of giants, and slew certain dragons. 15 
 
 Being now arrived at the proper age for producing them- 
 selves, they came up to town, and fell in love with the ladies, ^ 
 1 but especially three, who about that time were in chief 
 reputation ; the Duchess d' Argent, Madame de Grands 
 ITitres, and the Countess d'Orgueil. On their first appear- 20 
 ance, our three adventurers met with a very bad reception ; 
 and soon with great sagacity guessing out the reason, they 
 quickly began to improve in the good qualities of the town : 
 they writ, and rallied, and rhymed, and sung, and said, and 
 said nothing : they drank, and fought, and slept, and swore, 25 
 and took snuff : they went to new plays on the first night, 
 haunted the chocolate houses, beat the watch, and lay on 
 bulks : they bilked hackney-coachmen, and ran in debt with 
 shopkeepers : they killed bailiffs, kicked fiddlers down stairs, 
 eat at Locket's, loitered at Will's : they talked of the 30 
 drawing-room, and never came there : dined with lords they 
 never saw : whispered a duchess, and spoke never a word : 
 exposed the scrawls of their laundress for billetdoux of __• 
 quality : came ever just from court, and were never seen~"ih 
 
IIO SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 it : attended the levee sub dio : got a list of peers by heart 
 in one company, and with great familiarity retailed them in 
 another. Above all, they constantly attended those com- 
 mittees of senators, who are silent in the house, and loud in 
 5 the coffee-house ; where they nightly adjourn to chew the cud 
 of politics, and are encompassed with a ring of disciples, who 
 lie in wait to catch up their droppings. The three brothers 
 had acquired forty other qualifications of the like stamp, too 
 tedious to recount, and by consequence, were justly reckoned 
 
 io the most accomplished persons in the town : but all would, 
 not suffice, and the ladies aforesaid continued still inflexible. 
 To clear up which difficulty I must, with the reader's good 
 leave and patience, have recourse to some points of weight, 
 which the authors of that age have not sufficiently 
 
 15 illustrated. 
 
 For, about this time it happened a sect arose, whose 
 tenets obtained and spread very far, especially in the grand 
 monde, and among everybody of good fashion. They 
 worshipped a sort of idol, who, as their doctrine delivered, 
 
 20 did daily create men by a kind of manufactory operation. 
 This idol they placed in the highest part of the house, on an 
 altar erected about three foot : he was shewn in the posture 
 of a Persian emperor, sitting on a superficies, with his legs 
 interwoven under him. This god had a goose for his 
 
 25 ensign : whence it is that some learned men pretend to 
 deduce his original from Jupiter Capitolinus. At his left 
 hand, beneath the altar, Hell seemed to open, and catch at 
 the animals the idol was creating ; to prevent which, certain 
 of his priests hourly flung in pieces of the uninformed mass, 
 
 30 or substance, and sometimes whole limbs already enlivened, 
 which that horrid gulf insatiably swallowed, terrible to 
 behold. The goose was held a subaltern divinity or dais 
 minorum gentium. The chief idol was also worshipped as 
 the inventor of the yard and needle ; whether as the god 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 "3 
 
 k 
 
 either ancient or modern. And it was not merely to 
 L entertain or satisfy the reader's curiosity, but rather to give 
 
 n/tr 
 
 s ?/>■< 
 
 ■^ 
 
 III 
 
 shoulder-knot ? Our three brethren soon discovered their 30 
 want by sad experience, meeting in their walks with forty 
 mortifications and indignities. If they went to the play- 
 house, the door-keeper shewed them into the twelve-penny 
 gallery. If they called a boat, says a waterman, I am first 
 vol. 1. 1 
 
110 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 it : attended the levee sub dio : got a list of peers by heart 
 in one company, and with great familiarity retailed them in 
 
 y> Mi^>y 
 
 ^ 
 
 111 
 
 ■ : «fc*, DI nls P riesls nouny nung in pieces 01 uie-anniioxnrau wasa, - .- 
 30 or substance, and sometimes whole limbs already enliveneljHj 
 which that horrid gulf insatiably swallowed, terrible to "^ 
 behold. The goose was held a subaltern divinity or deus 
 minorum gentium. The chief idol was also worshipped as 
 the inventor of the yard and needle ; whether as the god 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 113 
 
 either ancient or modern. And it was not merely to 
 entertain or satisfy the reader's curiosity, but rather to give 
 him light into several circumstances of the following story; 
 that knowing the state of dispositions and opinions in an 
 age so remote, he may better comprehend those great 5 
 events, which were the issue of them. I advise therefore 
 the courteous reader to peruse with a world of application, 
 again and again, whatever I have written upon this matter. 
 And leaving these broken ends, I carefully gather up the 
 chief thread of my story and proceed. 10 
 
 These opinions, therefore, were so universal, as well as 
 the practices of them, among the refined part of court and 
 town, that our three brother-adventurers, as their circum- 
 stances then stood, were strangely at a loss. For, on the 
 one side, the three ladies they addressed themselves to, 15 
 whom we have named already, were at the very top of the 
 fashion, and abhorred all that were below it the breadth of 
 a hair. On the other side, their father's will was very 
 precise, and it was the main precept in it, with the greatest 
 penalties annexed, not to add to, or diminish from their 20 
 coats one thread, without a positive command in the will. 
 Now, the coats their father had left them were, it is true, of 
 very good cloth, and, besides, so neatly sewn, you would 
 swear they were all of a piece ; but, at the same time, very 
 plain, and with little or no ornament : and it happened, 25 
 that before they were a month in town, great shoulder-knots 
 came up ; straight all the world was shoulder-knots ; no 
 approaching the ladies' ruelles without the quota of shoulder- 
 knots. That fellow, cries one, has no soul ; where is his 
 shoulder-knot ? Our three brethren soon discovered their 30 
 want by sad experience, meeting in their walks with forty 
 mortifications and indignities. If they went to the play- 
 house, the door-keeper shewed them into the twelve-penny 
 gallery. If they called a boat, says a waterman, I am first 
 
 vol. 1. I 
 
114 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 f 
 sculler. If they stepped to the Rose to take a bottle, the 
 
 drawer would cry, Friend, we sell no ale. If they went to 
 
 visit a lady, a footman met them at the door, with, Pray 
 
 send up your message. In this unhappy case, they went 
 
 5 immediately to consult their father's will, read it over and 
 
 over, but not a word of the shoulder-knot : what should 
 
 they do ? what temper should they find ? obedience was 
 
 absolutely necessary, and yet shoulder-knots appeared 
 
 extremely requisite. After much thought, one of the 
 
 io brothers, who happened to be more book-learned than the 
 other two, said, he had found an expedient. It is true, said 
 he, there is nothing here in this will, totidem verbis, making 
 mention of shoulder-knots : but I dare conjecture, we may 
 find them inclusive, or totidem syllabis. This distinction 
 
 15 was immediately approved by all ; and so they fell again to 
 examine the will ; but their evil star had so directed the 
 matter, that the first syllable was not to be found in the 
 whole writings. Upon which disappointment, he, who found 
 the former evasion, took heart, and said, Brothers, there are 
 
 20 yet hopes ; for though we cannot find them totidem verbis, 
 nor totidem syllabis, I dare engage we shall make them out, 
 tertio modo, or totidem Uteris. This discovery was also 
 highly commended, upon which they fell once more to the 
 scrutiny, and picked out s,h,o,u,l,d,e,r ; when the same 
 
 25 planet, enemy to their repose, had wonderfully contrived, 
 that a k was not to be found. Here was a weighty difficulty ! 
 but the distinguishing brother, for whom we shall hereafter 
 find a name, now his hand was in, proved by a very good 
 argument, that k was a modern, illegitimate letter, unknown 
 
 30 to the learned ages, nor anywhere to be found in ancient 
 
 manuscripts. 'Tis true said he, Calendar hath in q. v. c. 1 
 
 been sometimes written with a k, but erroneously ; for, in 
 
 the best copies, it has ever been spelt with a c. And, by 
 
 1 Quibusdam veteribus codicibus. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. II 5 
 
 consequence, it was a gross mistake in our language to spell 
 knot with a k ; but that from henceforward, he would take 
 care it should be written with a c. Upon this all farther 
 difficulty vanished; shoulder-knots were made clearly out 
 to be jure paterno : and our three gentlemen swaggered 5 
 with as large and as flaunting ones as the best. But, as 
 human happiness is of a very short duration, so in those 
 days were human fashions, upon which it entirely depends. 
 Shoulder-knots had their time, and we must now imagine 
 them in their decline; for a certain lord came just from 10 
 Paris, with fifty yards of gold lace upon his coat, exactly 
 trimmed after the court fashion of that month. In two 
 days all mankind appeared closed up in bars of gold lace ; 
 whoever durst peep abroad without his complement of gold 
 lace, was ill received among the women : what should our 15 
 three knights do in this momentous affair? They had 
 sufficiently strained a point already in the affair of shoulder- 
 knots : upon recourse to the will, nothing appeared there but 
 altum sikntium. That of the shoulder-knots was a loose, 
 flying, circumstantial point ; but this of gold lace seemed 10 
 too considerable an alteration without better warrant ; it did 
 aliquo modo essentia adhcerere, and therefore required a 
 positive precept. But about this time it fell out, that the 
 learned brother aforesaid had read Aristotelis dialectica, 
 and especially that wonderful piece de interpretatione, 25 
 which has the faculty of teaching its readers to find out a 
 meaning in everything but itself ; like commentators on the 
 Revelations, who proceed prophets without understanding 
 a syllable of the text. Brothers, said he, you are to be 
 informed, that of wills duo sunt genera, nuncupatory and 39 
 scriptory; that in the scriptory will here before us, there is 
 no precept or mention about gold lace, conceditur: but, si 
 idem affirmetur de nuncupatorio, negatur. For, brothers, if 
 you remember, we heard a fellow say, when we were boys, 
 
 1 2 
 
Il6 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 that he heard my father's man say, that he heard my 
 father say, that he would advise his sons to get gold lace on 
 their coats, as soon as ever they could procure money .to 
 buy it. By G— ! that, is very true, cried the other ; I 
 
 5 remember it perfectly well, said the third. And so without 
 more ado got the largest gold lace in the parish, and walked 
 v about as fine as lords. 
 
 Wv^A while after there came up all in fashion a pretty sort of 
 flame-coloured satin for linings ; and the mercer brought a 
 
 10 pattern of it immediately to our three gentlemen : An 
 
 please your worships, said he, my Lord C and Sir J. W. 
 
 had linings out of this very piece last night; it takes 
 wonderfully, and I shall not have a remnant left enough to 
 make my wife a pin-cushion, by to-morrow morning at ten 
 
 is o'clock. Upon this, they fell again to rummage the will, 
 because the present case also required a positive precept, 
 the lining being held by orthodox writers to be of the 
 essence of the coat. After long search, they could fix upon' 
 nothing to the matter in hand, except a short advice of 
 
 20 their father in the will, to take care of fire, and put out 
 their candles before they went to sleep. This, though a 
 good deal for the purpose, and helping very far towards self- 
 conviction, yet not seeming wholly of force to establish a 
 command ; (being resolved to avoid farther scruple, as well 
 
 25 as future occasion for scandal,) says he that was the scholar, 
 I remember to have read in wills of a codicil annexed, 
 which is indeed a part of the will, and what it contains has 
 equal authority with the rest. Now, I have been consider- 
 ing of this same will here before us, and. I cannot reckon it 
 
 30 to be complete for want of such a codicil : I will therefore 
 fasten one in its proper place very dexterously : I have had 
 it by me some time ; it was written by a dog-keeper of my 
 grandfather's, and talks a great deal, as good luck would 
 have it, of this very flame-coloured satin. The project was 
 
A TALE OF A TUJi. 117 
 
 immediately approved by the other two ; an old parchment 
 scroll was tagged on according to art, in the form of a 
 codicil annexed, and the satin bought and worn. 
 
 Next winter a player, hired for the purpose by the cor- 
 poration of fringe-makers, acted his part in a new comedy, 5 
 all covered with silver fringe, and, according to the laudable 
 custom, gave rise to that fashion. Upon which the brothers, 
 consulting their father's will, to their great astonishment 
 found these words ; item, I charge and command my said 
 three sons to wear no sort of silver fringe upon or about 10 
 their said coats, &c, with a penalty, in case of disobedience, 
 too long here to insert. However, after some pause, the 
 brother so often mentioned for his erudition, who was well 
 skilled in criticisms, had found in a certain author, which he 
 said should be nameless, that the same word, which, in the 15 
 will, is called fringe, does also signify a broom-stick : and 
 doubtless ought to have the same interpretation in this 
 paragraph. This another of the brothers disliked, because 
 of that epithet silver, which could not, he humbly conceived, 
 in propriety of speech, be reasonably applied to a broom- 20 
 stick : but it was replied upon him, that his epithet was- 
 understood in a mythological and allegorical sense. How- 
 ever, he objected again, why their father should forbid them 
 to wear a broom-stick on their coats, a caution that 
 seemed unnatural and impertinent ; upon which he was 25 
 taken up short, as one who spoke irreverently of a mystery, 
 which doubtless was very useful and significant, but ought 
 not to be over-curiously pried into, or nicely reasoned 
 upon. And, in short, their father's authority being now 
 considerably sunk, this expedient was allowed to serve as 30 
 a lawful dispensation for wearing their full proportion of 
 silver fringe. 
 
 A while after was revived an old fashion, long antiquated, 
 of embroidery with Indian figures of men, women, and 
 
Il8 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 children. Here they had no occasion to examine the will; 
 they remembered but too well how their father had always 
 abhorred this fashion ; that he made several paragraphs on 
 purpose, importing his utter detestation of it, and bestowing 
 
 5 his everlasting curse to his sons, whenever they should wear 
 it. For all this, in a few days they appeared higher in the 
 fashion than anybody else in the town. But they solved 
 the matter by saying, that these figures were not at all the 
 same with those that were formerly worn, and were meant in 
 
 io the will. Besides, they did not wear them in the sense as 
 
 forbidden by their father ; but as they were a commendable 1 
 
 custom, and of great use to the public. That these rigorous 
 
 ' clauses in the will did therefore require some allowance, and 
 
 a favourable interpretation, and ought to be understood cum 
 
 15 grano salts. 
 
 But fashions perpetually altering in that age, the scho- 
 lastic brother grew weary of searching farther evasions, 
 and solving everlasting contradictions. Resolved, therefore,, 
 at all hazards, to comply with the modes of the world, they 
 
 20 concerted matters together, and agreed unanimously to lock 
 up their father's will in a strong box, brought out of Greece 
 or Italy, I have forgotten which, and trouble themselves no 
 farther to examine it, but only refer to its authority whenever 
 they thought fit. In consequence whereof, a while after it 
 
 25 grew a general mode to wear an infinite number of points, 
 most of them tagged with silver : upon which, the scholar 
 pronounced ex cathedra, that points were absolutely jure 
 paterno, as they might very well remember. It is true, 
 indeed, the fashion prescribed somewhat more than were 
 
 30 directly named in the will ; however, that they, as heirs- 
 general of their father, had power to make and add certain 
 clauses for public emolument, though not deducible, totidem 
 verbis, from the letter of the will, or else multa absurda 
 sequerentur. This was understood for canonical, and there- 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 1 9 
 
 fore on the following Sunday, they came to church all 
 covered with points. 
 
 The learned brother, so often mentioned, was reckoned 
 the best scholar in all that, or the next street to it ; inso- 
 much as, having run something behind-hand in the world, 5 
 he obtained the favour of a certain lord, to receive him into 
 his house, and to teach his children. A while after the 
 lord died, and he, by long practice of his father's will, found 
 the way of contriving a deed of conveyance of that house to 
 himself and his heirs ; upon which he took possession, 10 
 turned the young squires out, and received his brothers in 
 their stead. 
 
 Sect. III. — A Digression Concerning Critics. 
 
 Although I have been hitherto as cautious as I could, 
 upon all occasions, most nicely to follow the rules and 15 
 methods of writing laid down by the example of our 
 illustrious moderns ; yet has the unhappy shortness of my 
 memory led me into an error, from which I must extricate 
 myself, before I can decently pursue my principal subject. 
 I confess with shame, it was an unpardonable omission to 20 
 proceed so far as I have already done, before I had per- 
 formed the due discourses, expostulatory, supplicatory, or 
 deprecatory, with .my good lords the critics. Towards 
 some atonement for this grievous neglect, I do here make 
 humbly bold, to present them with a short account of them- 25 
 selves, and their art, by looking into the original and 
 pedigree of the word, as it is generally understood among 
 us ; and very briefly considering the ancient and present 
 state thereof. 
 
 By the word critic, at this day so frequent in all conver- 30 
 sations, there have sometimes been distinguished three very 
 different species of mortal men, according as I have read in 
 
120 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 ancient books and pamphlets. For first, by this term was 
 understood such persons as invented or drew up rules for 
 themselves and the world, by observing which, a careful 
 reader might be able to pronounce upon the productions of 
 5 the learned, form his taste to a true relish of the sublime 
 and the admirable, and divide every beauty of matter, or of 
 style, from the corruption that apes it: in their common 
 perusal of books, singling out the errors and defects, the 
 nauseous, the fulsome, the dull, and the impertinent, with 
 
 10 the caution of a man that walks through Edinburgh streets 
 in a morning, who is indeed as careful as he can to watch 
 diligently, and spy out the filth in his way ; not that he is 
 curious to observe the ordure ; but only with a design to 
 come out as cleanly as he may. These men seem, though 
 
 15 very erroneously, to have understood the appellation of 
 critic in a literal sense; that one principal part of his 
 office was to praise and acquit ; and that a critic, who sets 
 up to read only for an occasion of censure and reproof, 
 is a creature as barbarous as a judge, who should take up 
 
 20 a resolution to hang all men that came before him upon a 
 trial. 
 
 Again, by the word critic have been meant, the restorers 
 of ancient learning from the worms, and graves, and dust of 
 manuscripts. 
 
 2.5 Now the races of these two have been for some ages 
 utterly extinct; and besides, to discourse any farther of 
 them, would not be at all to my purpose. 
 
 The third and noblest sort, is that of the true critic, 
 whose original is the most ancient of all. Every true critic 
 
 30 is a hero born, descending in a direct line, from a celestial 
 stem, by Momus and Hybris, who begat Zoilus, who begat 
 Tigellius, who begat Etcaetera the elder ; who begat Bentley, 
 and Rymer, and Wotton, and Perrault, and Dennis ; who 
 begat Etcaetera the younger. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 121 
 
 And these are the critics, from whom the commonwealth 
 of learning has in all ages received such immense benefits, 
 that the gratitude of their admirers placed their origin in 
 Heaven, among those of Hercules, Theseus, Perseus, and 
 other great deservers of mankind. But heroic virtue itself 5 
 has not been exempt from the obloquy of evil tongues. For 
 it has been objected, that those ancient heroes, famous for 
 their combating so many giants, and dragons, and robbers, 
 were in their own persons a greater nuisance to mankind, 
 than any of those monsters they subdued; and therefore 10 
 to render their obligations more complete, when all other 
 vermin were destroyed, should, in conscience, have con- 
 cluded with the same justice upon themselves. As Hercules 
 most generously did, and has upon that score procured to 
 himself more temples and votaries, than the best of his 15 
 fellows. For these reasons, I suppose it is, why some have 
 conceived, it would be very expedient for the public good 
 of learning, that every true critic, as soon as he had finished 
 his task assigned, should immediately deliver himself up to 
 ratsbane, or hemp, or leap from some convenient altitude ; 20 
 and that no man's pretensions to so illustrious a character 
 should by any means be received, before that operation 
 were performed. 
 
 Now, from this heavenly descent of criticism, and the 
 close analogy it bears to heroic virtue, it is easy to assign 25 
 the proper employment of a true ancient genuine critic; 
 which is, to travel through this vast world of writings ; to 
 pursue and hunt those monstrous faults bred within them ; 
 to drag out the lurking errors, like Cacus from his den ; to 
 multiply them like Hydra's heads ; and rake them together 30 
 like Augeas's dung : or else drive away a sort of dangerous 
 fowl, who have a perverse inclination to plunder the best 
 branches of the tree of knowledge, like those stymphalian 
 birds that eat up the fruit. 
 
I 22 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 These reasonings will furnish us with an adequate defini- 
 tion of a true critic : that he is discoverer and collector of 
 writers' faults ; which may be farther put beyond dispute by 
 the following demonstration ; that whoever will examine the 
 5 writings in all kinds, wherewith this ancient sect has honoured 
 the world, shall immediately find, from the whole thread and 
 tenor of them, that the ideas of the authors have been 
 altogether conversant and taken up, with the faults, and 
 blemishes, and oversights, and mistakes of other writers: 
 
 io and, let the subject treated on be whatever it will, their 
 imaginations are so entirely possessed and replete with the 
 defects of other pens, that the very quintessence of what is 
 bad, does of necessity distil into their own ; by which means 
 the whole appears to be nothing else but an abstract of the 
 
 15 criticisms themselves have made. 
 
 Having thus briefly considered the original and office of 
 a critic, as the word is understood in its most noble and 
 universal acceptation, I proceed to refute the objections of 
 those who argue from the silence and pretermission of 
 
 20 authors ; by which they pretend to prove, that the very art 
 of criticism, as now exercised, and by me explained, is 
 wholly modern ; and consequently, that the critics of Great 
 Britain and France have no title to an original so ancient 
 and illustrious as I have deduced. Now, if I can clearly 
 
 25 make out, on the contrary, that the ancient writers have 
 particularly described both the person and the office of a 
 true critic, agreeable to the definition laid down by me, 
 their grand objection, from the silence of authors, will fall 
 to the ground. 
 
 30 I confess to have, for a long time, borne a part in this 
 general error: from which I should never have acquitted 
 myself, but through the assistance of our noble moderns, 
 whose most edifying volumes I turn indefatigably over 
 night and day, for the improvement of my mind, and the 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 123 
 
 good of my country : these have, with unwearied pains, 
 made many useful searches into the weak sides of the 
 ancients, and given us a comprehensive list of them. Be- 
 sides, they have proved beyond contradiction, that the very 
 finest things delivered of old, have been long since invented, 5 
 and brought to light by much later pens ; and that the 
 noblest discoveries those ancients ever made, of art or 
 nature, have all been produced by the transcending genius 
 of the present age. Which clearly shews, how little merit 
 those ancients can' justly pretend to ; and takes off that 10 
 blind admiration paid them by men in a corner, who have 
 the unhappiness of conversing too little with present things. 
 Reflecting maturely upon all this, and taking in the whole 
 compass of human nature, I easily concluded, that these 
 ancients, highly sensible of their many imperfections, must 15 
 needs have endeavoured, from some passages in their works, 
 to obviate, soften, or divert the censorious reader, by satire, 
 or panegyric upon the critics, in imitation of their masters, 
 the moderns. Now, in the common-places of both these, I 
 was plentifully instructed, by a long course of useful study 20 
 in prefaces and prologues ; and therefore immediately re- 
 solved to try what I could discover of either, by a diligent 
 perusal of the most ancient writers, and especially those-, 
 who treated of the earliest times. Here I found, to my 
 great surprise, that although they all entered, upon occasion, 25 
 into particular descriptions of the true critic, according as 
 they were governed by their fears or their hopes ; yet, what- 
 ever they touched of that kind, was with abundance of 
 caution, adventuring no farther than mythology and hiero- 
 glyphic. This, I suppose, gave ground to superficial readers, 30 
 for urging the silence of authors, against, the antiquity of 
 the true critic, though the types are so apposite, and the 
 applications so necessary and natural, that it is not easy to 
 conceive how any reader of a modern eye and taste could 
 
124 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 overlook them. I shall venture from a great number to 
 produce a few, which, I am very confident, will put this 
 question beyond dispute. 
 
 It well deserves considering, that these ancient writers, in 
 5 treating enigmatically upon the subject, have generally fixed 
 upon the very same hieroglyph, varying only the story, ac- 
 cording to their affections, or their wit. For first; Pausanias 
 is of opinion, that the perfection of writing correct was 
 entirely owing to the institution of critics ; and, that he can 
 
 10 possibly mean no other than the true critic, is, I think, 
 manifest enough from the following description. He says, 
 they were a race of men, who delighted to nibble at the 
 superfluities, and excrescencies of books ; which the learned 
 at length observing, took warning, of their own accord, to 
 
 15 lop the luxuriant, the rotten, the dead, the sapless, and the 
 overgrown branches from their works. But now, all this he 
 cunningly shades under the following allegory ; that the 
 Nauplians in Argos learned the art of pruning their vines, 
 by observing, that when an ass had browsed upon one of 
 
 30 them, it thrived the better, and bore fairer fruit. But 
 Herodotus, holding the very same hieroglyph, speaks much 
 plainer, and almost in terminis. He has been so bold as to 
 tax the true critics of ignorance and malice; telling us 
 openly, for I think nothing can be plainer, that in the 
 
 25 western part of Libya, there were asses with horns : upon 
 which relation Ctesias ' yet refines, mentioning the very same 
 animal about India, adding, that whereas all other asses 
 wanted a gall, these horned ones were so redundant in that 
 part, that their flesh was not to be eaten, because of its 
 
 30 extreme bitterness. 
 
 Now, the reason why those ancient writers treated this 
 subject only by types and figures, was, because they durst 
 not make open attacks against a party so potent and terrible, 
 1 Vide excerpta ex eo apud Photium. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 125 
 
 as the critics of those ages were ; whose very voice was so 
 dreadful, that a legion of authors would tremble, and drop 
 their pens at the sound ; for so Herodotus tells us expressly 
 in another place, how a vast army of Scythians was put to 
 flight in a panic terror by the braying of an ass. From 5 
 hence it is conjectured by certain profound philologers, 
 that the great awe and reverence paid to a true critic, by 
 the writers of Britain, have been derived to us from those 
 our Scythian ancestors. In short, this dread was so uni- 
 versal, that in process of time, those authors, who had a 10 
 mind to publish their sentiments more freely, in describing 
 the true critics of their several ages, were forced to leave off 
 the use of the former hieroglyph, as too nearly approaching 
 the prototype, and invented other terms instead thereof, 
 that were more cautious and mystical : so, Diodorus, speak- 15 
 ing to the same purpose, ventures no farther, than to say, 
 that in the mountains of Helicon, there grows a certain 
 weed, which bears a flower of so damned a scent, as to 
 poison those who offer to smell it. Lucretius gives exactly 
 the same relation : 20 
 
 ' Est etiam in magnis Heliconis montibus arbos, 
 Floris odore hominem tetro consueta necare.' 
 
 Lib. 6. 
 
 But Ctesias, whom we lately quoted, has been a great 
 deal bolder ; he had been used with much severity by the 25 
 true critics of his own age, and therefore could not forbear 
 to leave behind him, at least one deep mark of his vengeance 
 against the whole tribe. His meaning is so near the surface, 
 that I wonder how it possibly came to be overlooked by 
 those who deny the antiquity of true critics. For, pretending 30 
 to make a description of many strange animals about India, 
 he has set down these remarkable words : Among the rest, 
 says he, there is a serpent that wants teeth, and consequently 
 cannot bite ; but if its vomit, to which it is much addicted, 
 
12,6 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 happens to fall upon anything, a certain rottenness or cor- 
 ruption ensues : these serpents are generally found among 
 the mountains, where jewels grow, and they frequently emit 
 a poisonous juice : whereof whoever drinks, that person's 
 5 brains fly out of his nostrils. 
 
 There was also among the ancients a sort of critics, not 
 distinguished in species from the former, but in growth or 
 degree, who seem to have been only the tyros or junior 
 scholars ; yet, because of their differing employments, they 
 
 10 are frequently mentioned as a sect by themselves. The 
 usual exercise of these younger students, was, to attend 
 constantly at theatres, and learn to spy out the worst parts 
 of the play, whereof they were obliged carefully to take 
 note, and render a rational account to their tutors. Fleshed 
 
 is at these smaller sports, like young wolves, they grew up in 
 time to be nimble and strong enough for hunting down 
 large game. For it has been observed, both among 
 ancients and moderns, that a true critic has one quality in 
 common with an alderman, never to change his title or 
 
 20 his nature ; that a gray critic has been certainly a green 
 one, the perfections and acquirements of his age being only 
 the improved talents of his youth ; like hemp, which some 
 naturalists inform us is bad for suffocations, though taken 
 but in the seed. I esteem the invention, or at least the 
 
 25 refinement of prologues, to have been owing to these younger 
 proficients, of whom Terence makes frequent and honourable 
 mention, under the name of makvoli. 
 
 Now, it is certain, the institution of the true critics was of 
 absolute necessity to the commonwealth of learning. For 
 
 30 all human actions seem to be divided, like Themistocles 
 and his company; one man can fiddle, and another can 
 make a small town a great city; and he that cannot do 
 either one or the other, deserves to be kicked out of the 
 creation. The avoiding of which penalty, has doubtless 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 27 
 
 given the first birth to the nation of critics ; and withal, an 
 occasion for their secret detractors to report, that a true 
 critic is a sort of mechanic, set up with a stock and tools 
 for his trade, at as little expense as a tailor ; and that there 
 is much analogy between the utensils and abilities of both : 5 
 that the tailor's hell is the type of a critic's common-place 
 book, and his wit and learning held forth by the goose ; that 
 it requires at least as many of these to the making up of one 
 scholar, as of the others to the composition of a man ; that 
 the valour of both is equal, and their weapons near of a size. 1° 
 Much may be said in answer to these invidious reflections ; 
 and I can positively affirm the first to be a falsehood : for, 
 on the contrary, nothing is more certain, than that it requires 
 greater layings out, to be free of the critic's company, than 
 of any other you can name. For, as to be a true beggar, it 15 
 will cost the richest candidate every groat he is worth ; so, 
 before one can commence a true critic, it will cost a man 
 all the good qualities of his mind ; which, perhaps for a less 
 purchase, would be thought but an indifferent bargain. 
 
 Having thus amply proved the antiquity of criticism, and 20 
 described the primitive state of it, I shall now examine the 
 present condition of this empire, and shew how well it agrees 
 with its ancient self. A certain author L , whose works have 
 many ages since been entirely lost, does, in his fifth book, 
 and eighth chapter, say of critics, that their writings are the 25 
 mirrors of learning. This I understand in a literal sense, 
 and suppose our author must mean, that whoever designs to 
 be a perfect writer, must inspect into the books of critics, 
 and correct his invention there, as in a mirror. Now, 
 whoever considers, that the mirrors of the ancients were 30 
 made of brass, and sine mercurio, may presently apply the 
 two principal qualifications of a true modern critic, and 
 
 1 A quotation after the manner of a great author. Vide Bentley's 
 Dissertation, &c. 
 
128 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 consequently must needs conclude, that these have always 
 been, and must be for ever the same. For brass is an 
 emblem of duration, and, when it is skilfully burnished, will 
 cast reflections from its own superficies, without any assist- 
 5 ance of mercury from behind. All the other talents of a 
 critic will not require a particular mention, being included, 
 or easily deducible from these. However, I shall conclude 
 with three maxims, which may serve both as characteristics 
 to distinguish a true modern critic from a pretender, and 
 
 10 will be also of admirable use to those worthy spirits, who 
 engage in so useful and honourable an art. 
 
 The first is, that criticism, contrary to all other faculties 
 of the intellect, is ever held the truest and best, when it is 
 the very first result of the critic's mind ; as fowlers reckon 
 
 15 the first aim for the surest, and seldom fail of missing the 
 mark, if they stay for a second. 
 
 Secondly, the true critics are known, by their talents of 
 swarming about the noblest writers, to which they are 
 carried merely by instinct, as a rat to the best cheese, or a 
 
 20 wasp to the fairest fruit. So when the king is on horseback, 
 
 he is sure to be the dirtiest perspn of the company ; and they 
 
 that make their court best, are such a bespatter him most. 
 
 Lastly, a true critic, in the perusal of a book, is like a dog 
 
 at a feast, whose thoughts and stomach are wholly set upon 
 
 25 what the guests fling away, and consequently is apt to snarl 
 most when there are the fewest bones. 
 
 Thus much, I think, is sufficient to serve by way of 
 address to my patrons, the true modern critics ; and may 
 very well atone for my past silence, as well as that which I 
 
 30 am like to observe for the future. I hope I have deserved 
 so well of their whole body, as to meet with generous and 
 tender usage from their hands. Supported by which ex- 
 pectation, I go on boldly to pursue those adventures, 
 already so happily begun. 
 
t 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 129 
 
 Sect. IV.— A Tale of a Tub. 
 
 I have now, with much pains and study, conducted the 
 reader to a period, where he must expect to hear of great 
 revolutions. For no sooner had our learned brother, so 
 often mentioned, got a warm house of his own over his 5 
 head, than he began to look big, and take mightily upon 
 him ; insomuch, that unless the gentle reader, out of his 
 great candour, will please a little to exalt his idea, I am 
 afraid he will henceforth hardly know the hero of the play, 
 when he happens to meet him ; his part, his dress, and his 10 
 mien being so much altered. 
 
 He told his brothers, he would have them to know that 
 he was their elder, and consequently his father's sole heir ; 
 nay, a while after, he would not allow them to call him 
 brother, but Mr. Peter ; and then he must be styled 15 
 Father Peter ; and sometimes, My Lord Peter. To 
 support this grandeur, which he soon began to consider 
 could not be maintained without a better fonde than what 
 he was born to ; after much thought, he cast about at last 
 to turn projector and virtuoso, wherein he so well succeeded, 20 
 that many famous discoveries, projects, and machines, 
 which bear great vogue and practice at present in the 
 world, are owing entirely to ' Lord Peter's invention. I 
 will deduce the best account I have been able to collect of 
 the chief among them, without considering much the order 25 
 they came out in ; because, I think, authors are not well 
 agreed as to that point. 
 
 I hope, when this treatise of mine shall be translated into 
 foreign languages (as I may without vanity affirm, that the 
 labour of collecting, the faithfulness in recounting, and the 30 
 great usefulness of the matter to the public, will amply 
 deserve that justice) that the worthy members of the several 
 academies abroad, especially those of France and Italy, will 
 
 vol. 1. K 
 
130 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 favourably accept these humble offers, for the advancement 
 of universal knowledge. I do also advertise the most 
 reverend fathers, the Eastern Missionaries, that I have, 
 purely for their sakes, made use of such words and phrases, 
 5 as will best admit an easy turn into any of the oriental lan- 
 guages, especially the Chinese. And so I proceed with great 
 content of mind, upon reflecting, how much emolument this 
 whole globe of the earth is likely to reap by my labours. 
 Jhe first undertaking of Lord Peter, was, to purchase 
 
 10 a large continent, lately said to have been discovered in 
 terra australis incognita. This tract of land he bought at 
 a very great penny-worth, from the discoverers themselves, 
 (though some pretend to doubt whether they had ever been 
 there,) and then retailed it into several cantons to certain 
 
 15 dealers, who carried over colonies, but were all shipwrecked 
 in the voyage. Upon which Lord Peter sold the said 
 continent to other customers again, and again, and again, 
 and again, with the same success. 
 
 The second project I shall mention, was his sovereign 
 
 20 remedy for the worms, especially those in the spleen. The 
 patient was to eat nothing after supper for three nights : as 
 soon as he went to bed, he was carefully to lie on one side, 
 and when he grew weary, to turn upon the other ; he must 
 also duly confine his two eyes to the same object. These 
 
 25 prescriptions diligently observed, the worms would void" 
 insensibly by perspiration, ascending through the brain. 
 
 A third invention was the erecting of a whispering- 
 office, for the public good, and ease of all such as are 
 hypochondriacal, or troubled with the colic ; as midwives, 
 
 30 small politicians, friends fallen out, repeating poets, lovers 
 happy or in despair, privy-counsellors, pages, parasites, and 
 buffoons : in short, of all such as are in danger of bursting 
 with too much wind. An ass's head was placed so con- 
 veniently, that the party affected, might easily with his 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 131 
 
 mouth accost either of the animal's ears ; to which he was 
 to apply close for a certain space, and by a fugitive faculty, 
 peculiar to the ears of that animal; receive immediate 
 benefit, either by eructation, or expiration, or evomitation. 
 
 Another very beneficial project of Lord Peter's was, an 5 
 office of insurance for tobacco-pipes, martyrs of the modern 
 zeal, volumes of poetry, shadows, — and rivers : that these, 
 nor any of these, shall receive damage by fire. Whence 
 our friendly societies may plainly find themselves to be only 
 transcribers from this original ; though the one and the 10 
 other have been of great benefit to the undertakers, as well 
 as of equal to the public. 
 
 Lord Peter was also held the original author of puppets 
 and raree-shows ; the great usefulness whereof being so 
 generally known, I shall not enlarge farther upon this 15 
 particular. 
 
 But another discovery, for which he wks much renowned, 
 was his famous universal pickle. For, having remarked 
 how your common pickle, in use among housewives, was of 
 no farther benefit than to preserve dead flesh, and certain 20 
 kinds of vegetables, Peter, with great cost as well as art, 
 had contrived a pickle proper for houses, gardens, towns, 
 men, women, children, and cattle ; wherein he could 
 preserve them as sound as insects in amber. Now, this 
 pickle to the taste, the smell, and the sight, appeared 25 
 exactly the same with what is in common service for beef, 
 and butter, and herrings, and has been often that way 
 applied with great success ; but, for its many sovereign 
 virtues, was a quite different thing. For Peter would put in 
 a certain quantity of his powder pimperlimpimp, after 30 
 which it never failed of success. The operation was per- 
 formed by spargefaction, in a proper time of the moon. 
 The patient, who was to be pickled, if it were a house, 
 would infallibly be preserved from all spiders, rats, and 
 
132 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 weasels ; if the party affected were a dog, he should be 
 exempt from mange, and madness, and hunger. It also 
 infallibly took away all scabs, and lice, and scalled heads 
 from children, never hindering the patient from any duty, 
 
 5 either at bed or board. 
 
 But of all Peter's rarities, he most valued a certain set of 
 bulls, whose race was by great fortune preserved in a lineal 
 descent from those that guarded the golden fleece. Though 
 some, who pretended to observe them curiously, doubted 
 
 10 the breed had not been kept entirely chaste ; because they 
 had degenerated from their ancestors in some qualities, and 
 had acquired others very extraordinary, by a foreign mixture. 
 The bulls of Colchis are recorded to have brazen feet; but 
 whether it happened by ill pasture and running, by an alloy 
 
 15 from intervention of other parents, from stolen intrigues; 
 whether a weakness in their progenitors had impaired the 
 seminal virtue, or by a decline necessary through a long 
 course of time, the originals of nature being depraved in 
 these latter sinful ages of the world ; whatever was the cause, 
 
 20 it is certain, that Lord Peter's bulls were extremely vitiated 
 by the rust of time in the metal of their feet, which was now 
 sunk into common lead. However, the terrible roaring, 
 peculiar to their lineage, was preserved ; as likewise that 
 faculty of breathing out fire from their nostrils; which, 
 
 25 notwithstanding, many of their detractors took to be a feat 
 of art ; to be nothing so terrible as it appeared ; proceeding 
 only from their usual course of diet, which was of squibs 
 and crackers. However, they had two peculiar marks, 
 which extremely distinguished them from the bulls of Jason, 
 
 3° and I have not met together in the description of any other 
 monster, beside that in Horace : — 
 
 ' Varias inducere plumas ; ' 
 
 and 
 'Atrum desinit in piscem.' 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 133 
 
 For these had fishes' tails, yet upon occasion could outfly 
 any bird in the air. Peter put these bulls upon several 
 employs. Sometimes he would set them a-roaring to fright 
 naughty boys, and make them quiet. Sometimes he would 
 send them out upon errands of great importance ; where, it 5 
 is wonderful to recount, (and perhaps the cautious reader 
 may think much to believe it,) an appetitus sensibilis deriving 
 itself through the whole family from their noble ancestors, 
 guardians of the golden fleece, they continued so extremely 
 fond of gold that if Peter sent them abroad, though it were 10 
 only upon a compliment, they would roar, and spit, and 
 snivel out fire, and keep a perpetual coil, till you flung them 
 a bit of gold ; but then, pulveris exiguj, jactu, they would 
 grow calm and quiet as lambs. In short, whether by secret 
 connivance, or encouragement from their master, or out of 15 
 their own liquorish affection to gold, or both, it is certain 
 they were no better than a sort of sturdy, swaggering beggars ; 
 and where they could not prevail to get an alms, would make 
 women miscarry, and children fall into fits, who to this very 
 day, usually call sprites and hobgoblins by the name of 20 
 bull-beggars. They grew at last so very troublesome to the 
 neighbourhood, that some gentlemen of the north-west got 
 a parcel of right English bull-dogs, and baited them so 
 terribly, that they felt it ever after. 
 
 I must needs mention one more of Lord Peter's projects, 25 
 which was very extraordinary, and discovered him to be 
 master of a high reach, and profound invention. Whenever 
 it happened, that any rogue of Newgate was condemned to 
 be hanged, Peter would offer him a pardon for a certain 
 sum of money ; which when the poor caitiff had made all 3° 
 shifts to scrape up, and send, his lordship would return a 
 piece of paper in this form. 
 
 ' TO all mayors, sheriffs, jailors, constables, bailiffs, hang- 
 men, &c. Whereas we are informed, that A. B. remains in 
 
134 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 the hands of you, or some of you, under the sentence of 
 death. We will and command you, upon sight hereof, to 
 let the said prisoner depart to his own habitation, whether 
 he stands condemned for murder, rape, sacrilege, incest, 
 b treason, blasphemy, &c. for which this shall be your 
 sufficient warrant : and if you fail hereof, G — d — mn you 
 and yours to all eternity. And so we bid you heartily 
 farewell. 
 
 Your most humble 
 io man's man, 
 
 Emperor PETER. 
 
 The wretches, trusting to this, lost their lives and money 
 
 I desire of those, whom the learned among posterity will 
 
 15 appoint for commentators upon this elaborate treatise, that 
 they will proceed with great caution upon certain dark points, 
 wherein all, who are not verl adepti, may be in danger 
 to form rash and hasty conclusions, especially in some 
 mysterious paragraphs, where certain arcana are joined for 
 
 20 brevity sake, which in the operation must be divided. And 
 I am certain, that future sons of art will return large thanks 
 to my memory, for so grateful, so useful an innuendo. 
 
 It will be no difficult part to persuade the reader, that so 
 many worthy discoveries met with great success in the 
 
 25 world; though I may justly assure him, that I have related 
 much the smallest number ; my design having been only to 
 single out such as will be of most benefit for public imitation, 
 or which best served to give some idea of the reach and wit 
 of the inventor. And therefore it need not be wondereoVat, 
 
 30 if, by this time, Lord Peter was become exceeding rich : 
 but, alas ! he had kept his brain so long and so violently 
 upon the rack, that at last it shook itself, and began to turn 
 round for a little ease. In short, what with pride, projects, 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 35 
 
 and knavery, poor Peter was grown distracted, and conceived 
 the strangest imaginations in the world. In the height of 
 his fits, as it is usual with those who run mad out of pride, 
 he would call himself God Almighty, and sometimes monarch 
 of the universe. I have seen him (says my author) take 5 
 three old high-crowned hats, and clap them all on his head 
 three story high, with a huge bunch of keys at his girdle, 
 and an angling-rod in his hand. In which guise, whoever 
 went to take him by the hand in the way of salutation, 
 Peter with much grace, like a well-educated spaniel, would 1° 
 present them with his foot ; and if they refused his civility, 
 then he would raise it as high as their chaps, and give them 
 a damned kick on the mouth, which hath ever since been 
 called a salute. Whoever walked by without paying him 
 their compliments, having a wonderful strong breath, he 15 
 would blow their hats off into the dirt. Meantime his affairs 
 at home went upside down, and his two brothers had a 
 wretched time; where his first boutade was, to kick both 
 their wives one morning out of doors, and his own too ; and 
 in their stead, gave orders to pick up the first three strollers 20 
 that could be met with in the streets. A while after he 
 nailed up the cellar-door ; and would not allow his brothers 
 a drop of drink to their victuals. Dining one day at an 
 alderman's in the city, Peter observed him expatiating, after 
 the manner of his brethren, in the praises of his sirloin of 25 
 beef. Beef, said the sage magistrate, is the king of meat ; 
 beef comprehends in it the quintessence of partridge, and 
 quail, and venison, and pheasant, and plum-pudding, and 
 custard. When Peter came home, he would needs take the 
 fancy of cooking up this doctrine into use, and apply the 30 
 precept, in default of a sirloin, to his brown loaf: Bread, 
 says he, dear brothers, is the staff of life ; in which bread is 
 contained, inclusive, the quintessence of beef, mutton, veal, 
 venison, partridge, plum-pudding, and custard: and, to 
 
136 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 render all complete, there is intermingled a due quantity of 
 water, whose crudities are also corrected by yeast or barm ; 
 through which means it becomes a wholesome fermented 
 liquor, diffused through the mass of the bread. Upon the 
 5 strength of these conclusions, next day at dinner, was the 
 brown loaf served up in all the formality of a city feast. 
 Come, brothers, said Peter, fall to, and spare not ; here is 
 excellent good mutton ; or hold, now my hand is in, I will 
 help you. At which word, in much ceremony, with fork and 
 
 10 knife, he carves out two good slices of a loaf, and presents 
 each on a plate to his brothers. The elder of the two, not 
 suddenly entering into Lord Peter's conceit, began with 
 very civil language to examine the mystery. My lord, said 
 he, I doubt, with great submission, there may be some 
 
 15 mistake. What, says Peter, you are pleasant ; come then, 
 let us hear this jest your head is so big with. None in the 
 world, my lord ; but, unless I am very much deceived, your 
 lordship was pleased a while ago to let fall a word about 
 mutton, and I would be glad to see it with all my heart. 
 
 20 How, said Peter appearing in great surprise, I do not com- 
 prehend this at all. — Upon which, the younger interposing 
 to set the business aright ; My lord, said he, my brother, I 
 suppose, is hungry, and longs for the mutton your lordship 
 hath promised us to dinner. Pray, said Peter, take me along 
 
 25 with you; either you are both mad, or disposed to be 
 merrier than I approve of; if you there do not like your piece, 
 I will carve you another : though I should take that to be the 
 choice bit of the whole shoulder. What then, my lord, 
 replied the first, it seems this is a shoulder of mutton all 
 
 30 this while? Pray, sir, says Peter, eat your victuals, and 
 leave off your impertinence, if you please, for I am not 
 disposed to relish it at present : but the other could not 
 forbear, being over-provoked at the affected seriousness 
 of Peter's countenance : By G— , my lord, said he, I can 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 137 
 
 only say, that to my eyes, and fingers, and teeth, and nose, 
 it seems to be nothing but a crust of bread. Upon which 
 the second put in his word : I never saw a piece of mutton 
 in my life so nearly resembling a slice from a twelve-penny 
 loaf. Look ye, gentlemen, cries Peter in a rage, to convince 5 
 you what a couple of blind, positive, ignorant, wilful puppies 
 you are, I will use but this plain argument ; by G — , it is 
 true, good, natural mutton as any in Leadenhall market; 
 and G — confound you both eternally, if you offer to believe 
 otherwise. Such a thundering proof as this left no farther 10 
 room for objection ; the two unbelievers began to gather and 
 ^pocket up their mistake as hastily as they could. Why, truly, 
 said the first, upon more mature consideration — Ay, says 
 the other, interrupting him, now I have thought better on 
 the thing, your lordship seems to have a great deal of reason. 15 
 Very well, said Peter; here, boy, fill me a beer-glass of 
 claret; here's to you both, with all my heart. The two 
 brethren, much delighted to see him so readily appeased, 
 returned their most humble thanks, and said they would be 
 glad to pledge his lordship. That you shall, said Peter ; I 20 
 am not a person to refuse you anything that is reasonable : 
 wine, moderately taken, is a cordial ; here is a glass a-piece 
 for you ; it is true natural juice from the grape, none of 
 your damned vintner's brewings. Having spoke thus, he 
 presented to each of them another large dry crust, bidding 25 
 them drink it off, and not be bashful, for it would do them 
 no hurt. The two brothers, after having performed the 
 usual office in such delicate conjunctures, of staring a suffi- 
 cient period at Lord Peter and each other, and finding how 
 matters were likely to go, resolved not to enter on a new 30 
 dispute, but let him carry the point as he pleased : for he 
 was now got into one of his mad fits, and to argue or expos- 
 tulate farther, would only serve to render him a hundred 
 times more untractable. 
 
138 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 I have chosen to relate this worthy matter in all its 
 circumstances, because it gave a principal occasion to that 
 great and famous rupture, which happened about the same 
 time among these brethren, and was never afterwards made 
 5 up. But of that I shall treat at large in another section. 
 However, it is certain, that Lord Peter, even in his lucid 
 intervals, was very lewdly given in his common conversation; 
 extreme wilful and positive, and would at any time rather 
 argue to the death, than allow himself once to be in an error. 
 
 10 Besides, he had an abominable faculty of telling huge 
 palpable lies upon all occasions ; and not only swearing to 
 the truth, but cursing the whole company to hell, if they 
 pretended to make the least scruple of believing him. One 
 time he swore he had a cow at home, which gave as much 
 
 15 milk at a meal, as would fill three thousand churches; and 
 what was yet more extraordinary, would never turn sour. 
 
 f Another time he was telling of an old sign-post, that belonged 
 
 J to his father, with nails and timber enough in it to build 
 V sixteen large men of war. Talking one day of Chinese 
 
 20 waggons, which were made so light as to sail over mountains, 
 Z — ds, said Peter, where's the wonder of that? by G— , 
 I saw a large house of lime and stone travel over sea and 
 land, (granting that it stopped sometimes to bait,) above 
 two thousand German leagues. And that which was the 
 
 25 good of it, he would swear desperately all the while, that he 
 never told a lie in his life; and at every word; by G— , 
 gentlemen, I tell you nothing but the truth : and the D— 1 
 broil them eternally, that will not believe me. 
 
 In short, Peter grew so scandalous, that all the neigh- 
 
 30 bourhood began in plain words to say, he was no better than 
 a knave. And his two brothers, long weary of his ill-usage, 
 resolved at last to leave him ; but first, they humbly desired 
 a copy of their father's will, which had now lain by neglected 
 time out of mind. Instead of granting this request, he 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 39 
 
 called them damned sons of whores, rogues, traitors, and 
 the rest of the vile names he could muster up. However, 
 while he was abroad one day upon his projects, the two 
 youngsters watched their opportunity, made a shift to come 
 at the will, and took a copia vera, by which they presently 5 
 saw how grossly they had been abused ; their father having 
 left them equal heirs, and strictly commanded, that whatever 
 they got, should lie in common among them all. Pursuant 
 to which, their next enterprise was, to break open the cellar- 
 door, and get a little good drink, to spirit and comfort their 10 
 hearts. In copying the will, they had met another precept 
 against whoring, divorce, and separate maintenance ; upon 
 which their next work was to discard their concubines, and 
 send for their wives. While all this was in agitation, there 
 enters a solicitor from Newgate, desiring Lord Peter would 15 
 please procure a pardon for a thief that was to be hanged 
 to-morrow. But the two brothers told him, he was a cox- 
 comb to seek pardons from a fellow who deserved to be 
 hanged much better than his client ; and discovered all the 
 method of that imposture, in the same form I delivered it a 20 
 while ago, advising the solicitor to put his friend upon 
 obtaining a pardon from the king. In the midst of all this 
 clutter and revolution, in comes Peter with a file of dragoons 
 at his heels, and gathering from all hands what was in the 
 wind, he and bis gang, after several millions of scurrilities 25 
 and curses, not very important here to repeat, by main force 
 very fairly kicked them both out of doors, and would never 
 let them come under his roof from that day to this. 
 
 Sect. V. — A Digression in the Modern Kind. 
 
 We, whom the world is pleased to honour with the title 30 
 of modern authors, should never have been able to compass 
 our great design of an everlasting remembrance, and never- 
 
140 ' SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 dying fame, if our endeavours had not been so highly 
 serviceable to the general good of mankind. This, 
 universe ! is the adventurous attempt of me thy secretary ; 
 
 ' — — Quemvis perferre laborem 
 Suadet, et inducit noctes vigilare Serenas.' 
 
 To this end, I have some time since, with a world of pains 
 and art, dissected the carcase of human nature, and read 
 many useful lectures upon the several parts, both containing 
 and contained ; till at last it smelt so strong, I could preserve 
 it no longer. Upon which, I have been at a great expense 
 to fit up all the bones with exact contexture, and in due 
 
 | symmetry; so that I am ready to shew a complete anatomy 
 
 I thereof, to all curious gentlemen and others. But not to 
 digress farther in the midst of a digression, as I have known 
 
 15 some authors enclose digressions in one another, like a nest 
 of boxes ; I do affirm, that having carefully cut up human 
 nature, I have found a very strange, new, and important 
 discovery : That the public good of mankind is performed by 
 two ways, instruction and diversion. And I have farther 
 
 20 proved, in my said several readings, (which perhaps the world 
 may one day see, if I can prevail on any friend to steal a 
 copy, or on certain gentlemen of my admirers to be very 
 importunate,) that as mankind is now disposed, he receives 
 
 ■ much greater advantage by being diverted than instructed; 
 
 5 his epidemical diseases being fastidiosity, amorphy, and 
 
 oscitation ; whereas, in the present universal empire of wit 
 
 " and learning, there seems but little matter left for instruction. 
 
 However, in compliance with a lesson of great age and 
 
 authority, I have attempted carrying the point in all its 
 
 30 heights; and, accordingly, throughout this divine treatise, 
 have skilfully kneaded up both together, with a layer of 
 utile, and a layer of duke. 
 
 When I consider how exceedingly our illustrious moderns 
 have eclipsed the weak glimmering lights of the ancients, 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 141 
 
 and turned them out of the road of all fashionable commerce, 
 to a degree, that our choice town wits, of most refined 
 accomplishments, are in grave dispute, whether there have 
 been ever any ancients or no : in which point, we are likely 
 to receive wonderful satisfaction from the most useful labours 5 
 and lucubrations of that worthy modern, Dr. Bentley : I say, 
 when I consider all this, I cannot but bewail, that no famous 
 modern has ever yet attempted a universal system, in a 
 small portable volume, of all things that are to be known, 
 or believed, or imagined, or practised in life. I am, however, ib 
 forced to acknowledge, that such an enterprize was thought 
 on some time ago by a great philosopher of O Brazile. 
 The method he proposed was, by a certain curious receipt, 
 a nostrum, which, after his untimely death, I found among 
 his papers; and do here, out of my great affection to the 15 
 modern learned, present them with it, not doubting it may 
 one day encourage some worthy undertaker. 
 
 You take fair correct copies, well bound in calf-skin, and 
 lettered at the back, of all modern bodies of arts and sciences 
 whatsoever, and in what language you please. These you 2p 
 distil in balneo Maritz, infusing quintessence of poppy Q. S., 
 together with three pints of Lethe, to be had from the 
 apothecaries. You cleanse away carefully the sordes and 
 caput mortuum, letting all that is volatile evaporate. You 
 preserve only the first running, which is again to be distilled 25 
 seventeen times, till what remains will amount to about two 
 drams. This you keep in a glass vial, hermetically sealed, 
 for one-and-twenty days. Then you begin your Catholic 
 treatise, taking every morning fasting, first shaking the vial, 
 three drops of this elixir, snuffing it strongly up your nose. 30 
 It will dilate itself about the brain, (where there is any,) in 
 fourteen minutes, and you immediately perceive in your 
 head an infinite number of abstracts, summaries, com- 
 pendiums, extracts, collections, medullas, excerpta quczdams, 
 
142 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 fiorilegas, and the like, all disposed into great order, and 
 reducible upon paper. 
 
 I must needs own, it was by the assistance of this arcanum, 
 that I, though otherwise impar, have adventured upon so 
 5 daring an attempt, never achieved or undertaken before, but 
 by a certain author called Homer ; in whom, though other- 
 wise a person not without some abilities, and, for an ancient, 
 of a tolerable genius, I have discovered many gross errors, 
 which are not to be forgiven his very ashes, if, by chance, 
 
 io any of them are left. For whereas we are assured he 
 designed his work for a complete body of all knowledge 1 , 
 human, divine, political, and mechanic, it is manifest he ham 
 wholly neglected some, and been very imperfect in the rest. 
 For, first of all, as eminent a cabalist as his disciples would 
 
 15 represent him, his account of the opus magnum is extremely 
 poor and deficient ; he seems to have read but very super- 
 ficially either Sendivogius, Behmen, or Anthroposopbia 
 Theomagica. He is also quite mistaken about the sphara 
 pyroplastica, a neglect not be atoned for ; and, if the reader 
 
 20 will admit so severe a censure, vix crederem autorem hunt 
 unquam audivisse ignis vocem. His failings are not less 
 prominent in several parts of the mechanics. For, having 
 read his writings with the utmost application, usual among 
 modern wits, I could never yet discover the least direction 
 
 25 about the structure of that useful instrument, a save-all. 
 For want of which, if the moderns had not lent their assist- 
 ance, we might yet have wandered in the dark. But I have 
 still behind a fault far more notorious to tax the author with ; 
 I mean, his gross ignorance in the common laws of this 
 
 30 realm, and in the doctrine as well as discipline of the Church 
 
 of England. A defect, indeed, for which both he, and all 
 
 the ancients, stand most justly censured, by my worthy and 
 
 ingenious friend, Mr. Wotton, Bachelor of Divinity, in his 
 
 x 'Homerus omnes res humanas poematis complexus est.' Xenoph. 
 Conviv. 
 
 \ 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. I43 
 
 incomparable Treatise of Ancient and Modern Learning : a 
 book never to be sufficiently valued, whether we consider 
 the happy turns and flowings of the author's wit, the great 
 usefulness of his sublime discoveries upon the subject of flies 
 and spittle, or the laborious eloquence of his style. And I 5 
 cannot forbear doing that author the justice of my public 
 acknowledgments, for the great helps and liftings I had out 
 of his incomparable piece, while I was penning this treatise. 
 
 But, beside these omissions in Homer already mentioned, 
 the curious reader will also observe several defects in that 10 
 author's writings, for which he is not altogether so account- 
 able. For whereas every branch of knowledge has received 
 such wonderful acquirements since his age, especially within 
 these last three years, or thereabouts, it is almost impossible 
 he could be so very perfect in modern discoveries as his 15 
 advocates pretend. We freely acknowledge him to be the 
 inventor of the compass, of gunpowder, and the circulation 
 of the blood : but I challenge any of his admirers to shew 
 me, in all his writings, a complete account of the spleen ; 
 does he not also leave us wholly to seek in the art of political 20 
 wagering ? What can be more defective and unsatisfactory 
 than his long dissertation upon tea ? 
 
 It was to supply such momentous defects, that I have 
 been prevailed on, after long solicitation, to take pen in 
 hand ; and I dare venture to promise, the judicious reader 25 
 shall find nothing neglected here, that can be of use upon 
 any emergency of life. I am confident to have included 
 and exhausted all that human imagination can rise or fall 
 to. Particularly, I recommend to the perusal of the learned, 
 certain discoveries, that are wholly untouched by others ; 30 
 whereof I shall only mention, among a great many more, 
 my New Help for Smatterers, or The Art of being deep-learned 
 and shallow-read. A curious invention about mouse-traps. 
 A universal rule of reason, or every man his own carver ; 
 
144 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 together with a most useful engine for catching of owls. 
 All which, the judicious reader will find largely treated on 
 in the several parts of this discourse. 
 
 I hold myself obliged to give as much light as is possible, 
 5 into the beauties and excellencies of what I am writing : 
 because it is become the fashion and humour most ap- 
 plauded, among the first authors of this polite and learned 
 age, when they would correct the ill-nature of critical, or 
 inform the ignorance of courteous readers. Besides, there 
 
 io have been several famous pieces lately published, both in 
 verse and prose, wherein, if the writers had not been 
 pleased, out of their great humanity and affection to the 
 public, to give us a nice detail of the sublime and the 
 admirable they contain, it is a thousand to one, whether 
 
 15 we should ever have discovered one grain of either. For 
 my own particular, I cannot deny, that whatever I have 
 said upon this occasion, had been more proper in a preface, 
 and more agreeable to the mode which usually directs it 
 there. But I here think fit to lay hold on that great and 
 
 20 honourable privilege, of being the last writer; I claim an 
 absolute authority in right, as the freshest modern, which 
 
 "i gives me a despotic power over all authors before me. In 
 the strength of which title, I do utterly disapprove and de- 
 clare against that pernicious custom, of making the preface 
 
 25 a bill of fare to the book. For I have always looked upon 
 it as a high point of indiscretion in monster-mongers, and 
 other retailers of strange sights, to hang out a fair large 
 picture over the door, drawn after the life, with a most 
 eloquent description underneath : this hath saved me many 
 
 30 a threepence ; for my curiosity was fully satisfied, and I 
 never offered to go in, though often invited by the urging 
 and attending orator, with his last moving and standing 
 piece of rhetoric : Sir, upon my word we are just going to 
 begin. Such is exactly the fate, at this time, of Prefaces, 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 145 
 
 Epistles, Advertisements, Introductions, Prolegomenas, Ap- 
 paratuses, To the Readers. This expedient was admirable 
 at first ; our great Dryden hath long carried it as far as it 
 would go, and with incredible success. He hath often said 
 to me in confidence, that the world would have never sus- 5 
 pected him to be so great a poet, if he had not assured 
 them so frequently in his prefaces, that it was impossible 
 they could either doubt or forget it. Perhaps it may be 
 so ; however, I much fear, his instructions have edified out 
 of their place, and taught men to grow wiser in certain 10 
 points, where he never intended they should ; for it is 
 lamentable to behold, with what a lazy scorn many of the 
 yawning readers of our age do now-a-days twirl over forty 
 or fifty pages of preface and dedication, (which is the usual 
 modern stint,) as if it were so much Latin. Though it 15 
 must be also allowed on the other hand, that a very con- 
 siderable number is known to proceed critics and wits, by 
 reading nothing else. Into which two factions, I think, all 
 present readers may justly be divided. Now, for myself, I 
 profess to be of the former sort ; and therefore, having the 20 
 modern inclination, to expatiate upon the beauty of my own 
 productions, and display the bright parts of my discourse, 
 I thought best to do it in the body of the work ; where, as 
 it now lies, it makes a very considerable addition to the 
 bulk of the volume; a circumstance by no means to be 25 
 neglected by a skilful writer. 
 
 Having thus paid my due deference and acknowledgment 
 to an established custom of our newest authors, by a long 
 digression unsought for, and a universal censure unpro- 
 voked ; by forcing into the light, with much pains and 30 
 dexterity, my own excellencies, and other men's defaults, 
 with great justice to myself, and candour to them, I now 
 happily resume my subject, to the infinite satisfaction both 
 of the reader and the author. 
 
 vol. 1. L 
 
146 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 r 
 
 Sect. VI.— A Tale of a Tub. 
 
 We left Lord Peter in open rupture with his two brethren; 
 both for ever discarded from his house, and resigned to the 
 wide world, with little or nothing to trust to. Which are 
 S circumstances that render them proper subjects for the 
 charity of a writer's pen to work on ; scenes of misery ever 
 affording the fairest harvest for great adventures. And in 
 this, the world may perceive the difference between the in- 
 tegrity of a generous author and that of a common friend. 
 
 10 The latter is- observed to adhere close in prosperity, but on 
 the decline of fortune, to drop suddenly off. Whereas the 
 generous author, just on the contrary, finds his hero on 
 the dunghill, from thence by gradual steps raises him to a 
 throne, and then immediately withdraws, expecting not so 
 
 15 much as thanks for his pains ; in imitation of which example, 
 I have placed Lord Peter in a noble house, given him a 
 title to wear, and money to spend. There I shall leave him 
 for some time ; returning where common charity directs me, 
 to the assistance of his two brothers, at their lowest ebb. 
 
 20 However, I shall by no means forget my character of an 
 historian to follow the truth step by step, whatever happens, 
 or wherever it may lead me. 
 
 The two exiles, so nearly united in fortune and. interest* 
 took a lodging together ; where, at their first leisure, they 
 
 25 began to reflect on the numberless misfortunes and vexations 
 of their life past, and could not tell on the sudden, to what 
 failure in their conduct they ought to impute them : when, 
 after some recollection, they called to mind the copy of 
 their father's will, which they tiad so happily recovered. 
 
 30 This was immediately produced, and a firm resolution 
 taken between them, to alter whatever was already amiss, 
 and reduce all their future measures to the strictest obe- 
 dience prescribed therein. The main body of the will (as 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 147 
 
 the reader cannot easily have forgot) consisted in certain 
 admirable rules about the wearing of their coats ; in the 
 perusal whereof, the two brothers, at every period, duly 
 comparing the doctrine with the practice, there was never 
 seen a wider difference between two things.; horrible down- 5 
 right transgressions of every point. Upon which they both 
 resolved, without further delay, to fall immediately upon 
 reducing the whole, exactly after their father's model. 
 
 But, here it is good to stop the hasty reader, ever im- 
 patient to see the end of an adventure, before we writers 10 
 can duly prepare him for it. I am to record, that these 
 two brothers began to be distinguished at this time by 
 certain names. One of them desired to be called Martin, 
 and the other took the appellation of Jack. These two had 
 lived in much friendship and agreement, under the tyranny 15 
 of their brother Peter, as it is the talent of fellow-sufferers 
 to do ; men in misfortune, being like men in the dark, to 
 whom all colours are the same : but when they came forward 
 into the world, and began to display themselves to each 
 other, and to the light, their complexions appeared ex- 20 
 tremely different ; which the present posture of their affairs 
 gave them sudden opportunity to discover. 
 
 But, here the severe reader may justly tax me as a writer 
 of short memory, a deficiency to which a true modern 
 cannot but, of necessity, be a little subject. Because, 25 
 memory being an employment of the mind upon things 
 past, is a faculty for which the learned in our illustrious 
 age have no manner of occasion, who deal entirely with 
 invention, and strike all things out of themselves, or at 
 least by collision from each other : upon which account, we 30 
 think it highly reasonable to produce our great forgetfulness, 
 as an argument unanswerable for our great wit. I ought in 
 method to have informed the reader, about fifty pages ago, 
 of a fancy Lord Peter took, and infused into his brothers, 
 
 L 2 
 
148 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 to wear on their coats whatever trimmings came up in 
 fashion ; never pulling off any, as they went out of the 
 mode, but keeping on all together, which amounted in time 
 to a medley the most antic you can possibly conceive ; and 
 5 this to a degree, that upon the time of their falling out, 
 there was hardly a thread of the original coat to be seen : 
 but an infinite quantity of lace and ribbons, and fringe, and 
 embroidery, and points; I mean Snly those tagged with 
 silver, for the rest fell off. Now -this material circumstance 
 
 10 having been forgot in due place, as good fortune hath ordered, 
 comes in very properly here, when the two brothers are 
 just going to reform their vestures into the primitive state, 
 prescribed by their father's will. 
 
 They both unanimously entered upon this great work, 
 
 15 looking sometimes on their coats, and sometimes on the 
 will. Martin laid the first hand ; at one twitch brought off 
 a large handful of points ; and, with a second pull, stripped 
 away ten dozen yards of fringe. But when he had gone 
 thus far, he demurred a while : he knew very well there yet 
 
 20 remained a great deal more to be done ; however, the first 
 heat being over, his violence began to cool, and he resolved 
 to proceed more moderately in the rest of the work ; having 
 already narrowly escaped a swinging rent in pulling off the 
 points, which, being tagged with silver (as we have observed 
 
 25 before) the judicious workman had, with much sagacity, 
 double sewn, to preserve them from falling. Resolving 
 therefore to rid his coat of a huge quantity of gold-lace, 
 he picked up the stitches with much caution, and diligently 
 gleaned out all the loose threads as he went, which proved 
 
 30 to be a work of time. Then he fell about the embroidered 
 Indian figures of men, women, and children ; against which, 
 as you have heard in its due place, their father's testament 
 was extremely exact and severe : these, with much dexterity 
 and application, were, after a while, quite eradicated, or 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 49 
 
 utterly defaced. For the rest, where he observed the 
 embroidery to be worked so close, as not to be, got away 
 without damaging the cloth, or where it served to hide or 
 strengthen any flaw in the body of the coat, contracted by 
 the perpetual tampering of workmen upon it ; he concluded, 5 
 the wisest course was to let it remain, resolving in no case 
 whatsoever, that the substance of the stuff should suffer 
 injury ; which he thought the best method for serving the 
 true intent and meaning of his father's will. And this is 
 the nearest account I have been able to collect of Martin's 10 
 proceedings upon this great revolution. 
 
 But his brother Jack, whose adventures will be so extra- 
 ordinary, as to furnish a great part "in the remainder of this 
 discourse, entered upon the matter with other thoughts, 
 and a quite different spirit. For the memory of Lord Peter's 15 
 injuries, produced a degree of hatred and spite, which had 
 a much greater share of inciting him, than any regards after 
 his father's commands ; since these appeared, at best, only 
 secondary and subservient to the other. However, for this 
 medley of humour, he made a shift to find a very plausible 20 
 name, honouring it with the title of zeal ; which is perhaps 
 the most significant word that hath been ever yet produced 
 in any language; as, I think, I have fully proved in my 
 excellent analytical discourse upon that subject ; wherein I 
 have deduced a histori-theo-physi-logical account of zeal, 25 
 shewing how it first proceeded from a notion into a word, and 
 thence, in a hot summer, ripened into a tangible substance. 
 This work, containing three large volumes in folio, I design 
 very shortly to publish by the modern way of subscription, 
 not doubting but the nobility and gentry of the land will 30 
 give me all possible encouragement; having had already 
 such a taste of what I am able to perform. 
 
 I record, therefore, that brother Jack, brimful of this 
 miraculous compound, reflecting with indignation upon 
 
150 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Peter's tyranny, and farther provoked by the despondency 
 of Martin, prefaced his resolutions to this purpose. What, 
 said he, a rogue that locked up his drink, turned away our 
 wives, cheated us of our fortunes ; palmed his damned 
 5 crusts upon us for mutton ; and, at last, kicked us out of 
 doors ; must we be in his fashions, with a plague ! a rascal, 
 besides, that all the street cries out against. Having thus 
 kindled and inflamed himself, as high as possible, and by 
 consequence in a delicate temper for beginning a reforma- 
 
 io tion, he set about the work immediately ; and in three 
 minutes made more dispatch than Martin had done in as 
 many hours. For, courteous reader, you are given to under- 
 stand, that zeal is never so highly obliged, as when you set 
 it a-tearing ; and Jack, who doated on that quality in himself, 
 
 15 allowed it at this time its full swing. Thus it happened, 
 that, stripping down a parcel of gold lace a little too hastily, 
 he rent the main body of his coat from top to bottom ; and 
 whereas his talent was not of the happiest in taking up a 
 stitch, he knew no better way, than to darn it again with 
 
 20 packthread and a skewer. But the matter was yet infinitely 
 worse (I record it with tears) when he proceeded to the 
 embroidery : for, being clumsy by nature, and of temper 
 impatient ; withal, beholding millions of stitches that required 
 the nicest hand, and sedatest constitution, to extricate; in 
 
 25 a great rage he tore off the whole piece, cloth and all, and 
 flung it into the kennel, and furiously thus continuing his 
 career : Ah, good brother Martin, said he, do as I do, for 
 the love of God ; strip, tear, pull, rend, flay off all, that we 
 may appear as unlike the rogue Peter as it is possible ; I 
 
 3 o would not, for a hundred pounds, carry the least mark 
 about me, that might give occasion to the neighbours of 
 suspecting that I was related to such a rascal. But Martin, 
 who at this time happened to be extremely phlegmatic and 
 sedate, begged his brother, of all love, not to damage his 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 51 
 
 coat by any means ; for he never would get such another : de- 
 sired him to consider, that it was not their business to form 
 their actions by any reflection upon Peter, but by observing 
 the rules prescribed in their father's will. That he should 
 remember, Peter was still their brother, whatever faults or 5 
 injuries he had committed ; and therefore they should, by 
 all means, avoid such a thought as that of taking measures 
 for good and evil, from no other rule than of opposition to 
 him. That it was true, the testament of their good father 
 was very exact in what related to the wearing of their coats : 10 
 yet it was no less penal and strict, in prescribing agreement, 
 and friendship, and affection between them. And therefore, 
 if straining a point were at all dispensable, it would certainly 
 be so, rather to the advance of unity, than increase of 
 contradiction. 15 
 
 Martin had still proceeded as gravely as he began, and 
 doubtless would have delivered an admirable lecture of 
 morality, which might have exceedingly contributed to my 
 reader's repose both of body and mind, (the true ultimate 
 end of ethics) ; but Jack was already gone a flight-shot 20 
 beyond his patience. And as in scholastic disputes, nothing 
 serves to rouse the spleen of him that opposes, so much as ; 
 a kind of pedantic affected calmness in the respondent; 
 disputants being for the most part like unequal scales, 
 where the gravity of one side advances the lightness of the 25 
 other, and causes it to fly up, and kick the beam: so it 
 happened here that the weight of Martin's argument exalted 
 Jack's levity, and made him fly out, and spurn against his 
 brother's moderation. In short, Martin's patience put Jack 
 in a rage ; but that which most afflicted him, was, to observe 30 
 his brother's coat so well reduced into the state of innocence ; 
 while his own was either wholly rent to his shirt ; or those 
 places which had escaped his cruel clutches, were still in 
 Peter's livery. So that he looked like a drunken beau, half 
 
152 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 rifled by bullies ; or like a fresh tenant of Newgate, when 
 he has refused the payment of garnish ; or like a discovered 
 shoplifter, left to the mercy of Exchange women. Like 
 any, or like all of these, a medley of rags, and lace, and 
 5 rents, and fringes, unfortunate Jack did now appear: he 
 would have been extremely glad to see his coat in the 
 condition of Martin's, but infinitely gladder to find that of 
 Martin in the same predicament with his. However, since 
 neither of these was likely to come to pass, he thought fit 
 
 io to lend the whole business another turn, and to dress up 
 necessity into a virtue. Therefore, after as many of the 
 fox's arguments as he could muster up, for bringing Martin 
 to reason, as he called it ; or, as he meant it, into his own 
 ragged', bobtailed condition ; and observing he said all to 
 
 1 5 little purpose ; what, alas ! was left for the forlorn Jack to 
 do, but, after a million of scurrilities against his brother, to 
 run mad with spleen, and spite, and contradiction. To be 
 short, here began a mortal breach between these two. Jack 
 went immediately to new lodgings, and in a few days it was 
 
 20 for certain reported, that he had run out of his wits. In a 
 short time after he appeared abroad, and confirmed the 
 report by falling into the oddest whimseys that ever a sick 
 brain conceived. 
 
 And now the little boys in the streets began to salute 
 
 25 him with several names. Sometimes they would call him 
 Jack the bald ; sometimes, Jack with a lantern ; sometimes, 
 Dutch Jack; sometimes, French Hugh; sometimes, Tom 
 the beggar ; and sometimes, Knocking Jack of the north. 
 And it was under one, or some, or all of these appellations, 
 
 30 (which I leave the learned reader to determine,) that he has 
 given rise to the most illustrious and epidemic sect of 
 ./Eolists; who, with honourable commemoration, do still 
 acknowledge the renowned Jack for their author and 
 founder. Of whose originals, as well as principles, I am 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 153 
 
 now advancing to gratify the world with a very particular 
 account. 
 
 Melleo contingens cuncta lepore. 
 
 Sect. VII. — A Digression in Praise of Digressions. 
 
 I have sometimes heard of an Iliad in a nutshell ; but it 5 
 hath been my fortune to have much oftener seen a nutshell 
 in an Iliad. There is no doubt that human life hath received 
 most wonderful advantages from both ; but to which of the 
 two the world is chiefly indebted, I shall leave among the 
 curious, as a problem worthy of their utmost inquiry. For 10 
 the invention of the latter, I think the commonwealth of 
 learning is chiefly obliged to the great modern improvement 
 of digressions : the late refinements in knowledge, running 
 parallel to those of diet in our nation, which, among men of 
 a judicious taste, are dressed up in various compounds, con- 1 5 
 sisting in soups and olios, fricassees, and ragouts. 
 
 'Tis true, there is a sort of morose, detracting, ill-bred 
 people, who pretend utterly to disrelish these polite inno- 
 vations ; and as to the similitude from diet, they allow the 
 parallel, but are so bold to pronounce the example itself, a 20 
 corruption and degeneracy of taste. They tell us that the 
 fashion of jumbling fifty things together in a dish, was at 
 first introduced, in compliance to a depraved and debauched 
 appetite, as well as to a crazy constitution : and to see a 
 man hunting through an olio, after the head and brains of 25 
 a goose, a widgeon, or a woodcock, is a sign he wants a 
 stomach and digestion for more substantial victuals. Far- 
 ther, they affirm, that digressions in a book are like foreign 
 troops in a state, which argue the nation to want a heart and 
 hands of its own, and often either subdue the natives, or 30 
 drive them into the most unfruitful corners. 
 
 But, after all that can be objected by these supercilious 
 censors, 'tis manifest, the society of writers would quickly 
 
154 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 be reduced to a very inconsiderable number, if men were 
 put upon making books, with the fatal confinement of 
 delivering nothing beyond what is to the purpose, 'lis 
 acknowledged, that were the case the same among us, as 
 5 with the Greeks and Romans, when learning was in its 
 cradle, to be reared, and fed, and clothed by invention, 
 it would be an easy task to fill up volumes upon particular 
 occasions, without farther expatiating from the subjects, than 
 by moderate excursions, helping to advance or clear the 
 
 io main design. But with knowledge it hath fared as with 
 a numerous army, encamped in a fruitful country, which, 
 for a few days, maintains itself by the product of the soil 
 it is on; till, provisions being spent, they send to forage 
 many a mile, among friends or enemies, it matters not. 
 
 15 Meanwhile, the neighbouring fields, trampled and beaten 
 down, become barren and dry, affording no sustenance, but 
 clouds of dust. 
 
 The whole course of things being thus entirely changed 
 between us and the ancients, and the moderns wisely 
 
 20 sensible of it, we of this age have discovered a shorter, 
 and more prudent method, to become scholars and wits, 
 without the fatigue of reading or of thinking. The most 
 accomplished way of using books at present, is two-fold; 
 either, first, to serve them as some men do lords, learn 
 
 25 their titles exactly, and then brag of their acquaintance.: 
 Or, secondly, which is indeed the choicer, the profounder, 
 and politer method, to get a thorough insight into the index,, 
 by which the whole book is governed and turned, like fishes 
 by the tail. For, to enter the palace of learning at the great 
 
 30 gate, requires an expense of time and forms ; therefore men 
 of much haste, and little ceremony, are content to get in by 
 the back door. For the arts are all in a flying march, and 
 therefore more easily subdued by attacking them in the 
 rear. Thus men catch knowledge, by throwing their wit 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 55 
 
 on the posteriors of a book, as boys do sparrows with 
 flinging salt upon their tails. Thus human life is best 
 understood, by the wise man's rule, of regarding the end. 
 Thus are the sciences found, like Hercules's oxen, by 
 tracing them backwards. Thus are old sciences unravelled, 5 
 like old stockings, by beginning at the foot. Besides all this, 
 the army of the sciences hath been of late, with a world of 
 martial discipline, drawn into its close order, so that a view 
 or a muster may be taken of it with abundance of expedition. 
 For this great blessing we are wholly indebted to systems 10 
 and abstracts, in which the modern fathers of learning, like 
 prudent usurers, spent their sweat for the ease of us their 
 children. For labour is the seed of idleness, and it is the 
 peculiar happiness of our noble age to gather the fruit. 
 
 Now, the method of growing wise, learned, and sublime, 15 
 having become so regular an affair, and so established in 
 all its forms, the number of writers must needs have in- 
 creased accordingly, and to a pitch that hath made it of 
 absolute necessity for them to interfere continually with 
 each other. Besides, it is reckoned, that there is not, at 20 
 this present, a sufficient quantity of new matter left in 
 nature, to furnish and adorn any one particular subject, to 
 the extent of a volume. This I am told by a very skilful 
 computer, who hath given a full demonstration of it from 
 rules of arithmetic. 25 
 
 This will stand as an incontestable argument, that our 
 modern wits are not to reckon upon the infinity of matter 
 for a constant supply. What remains therefore, but that 
 our last recourse must be had to large indexes, and little 
 compendiums? quotations must be plentifully gathered, 30 
 and booked in alphabet ; to this end, though authors need 
 be little consulted, yet critics, and commentators, and 
 lexicons, carefully must. But above all, those judicious 
 collectors of bright parts, and flowers, and observandas, 
 
156 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 are to be nicely dwelt on, by some called the sieves and 
 boulters of learning ; though it is left undetermined, whether 
 they dealt in pearls or meal ; and consequently, whether we 
 are more to value that which passed through, or what staid 
 5 behind. 
 
 By these methods, in a few weeks, there starts up many 
 a writer, capable of managing the profoundest and most 
 universal subjects. For, what though his head be empty, 
 provided his common-place book be full ; and if you will 
 
 10 bate him but the circumstances of method, and style, and 
 grammar, and invention ; allow him but the common privi- 
 leges of transcribing from others, and digressing from 
 himself, as often as he shall see occasion; he will desire 
 no more ingredients towards fitting up a treatise, that shall 
 
 15 make a very comely figure on a bookseller's shelf; there to 
 be preserved neat and clean for a long eternity, adorned 
 with the heraldry of its title fairly inscribed on a label; 
 never to be thumbed or greased by students, nor bound to 
 everlasting chains of darkness in a library : but, when the 
 
 20 fulness of time is come, shall happily undergo the trial of 
 purgatory, in order to ascend the sky. 
 
 Without these allowances, how is it possible we modern 
 wits should ever have an opportunity to introduce our 
 collections, listed under so many thousand heads of a 
 
 25 different nature ; for want of which, the learned world 
 would be deprived of infinite delight, as well as instruction, 
 and we ourselves buried beyond redress, in an inglorious 
 and undistinguished oblivion ? 
 
 From such elements as these, I am alive to behold the 
 
 30 day, wherein the corporation of authors can outvie all its 
 brethren in the field. A happiness derived to us, with a 
 great many others, from our Scythian ancestors; among 
 whom the number of pens was so infinite, that the Grecian 1 
 
 1 Herodot. lib. 4. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 57 
 
 ^eloquence had no other way of expressing it, than by 
 saying, that in the regions, far to the north, it was hardly 
 possible for a man to travel, the very air was so replete 
 with feathers. 
 
 The necessity of this digression will easily excuse the 5 
 length; and I have chosen for it as proper a place as I 
 could readily find. If the judicious reader can assign a 
 fitter, I do here empower him to remove it into any other 
 corner he pleases. And so I return, with great alacrity, to 
 pursue a more important concern. 10 
 
 Sect. VIII.— A Tale of a Tub. 
 
 The learned .^Eolists maintain the original cause of all 
 things to be wind, from which principle this whole universe 
 was at first produced, and into which it must at last be 
 resolved ; that the same breath, which had kindled, and 15 
 blew up the flame of nature, should one day blow it out : — 
 
 Quod procul a nobis flectat fortuna gubernans. 
 
 This is what the adepti understand by their anima mundi; 
 that is to say, the spirit, or breath, or wind of the world; 
 for, examine the whole system by the particulars of nature, 20 
 and you will find it not to be disputed. For whether you 
 please to call the forma informans of man, by the name of 
 spiritus, animus, afflatus, or anima ; what are all these but 
 several appellations for wind, which is the ruling element in 
 every compound, and into which they all resolve upon their 25 
 corruption? Farther, what is life itself, but, as it is com- 
 monly called, the breath of our nostrils? Whence it is 
 very justly observed by naturalists, that wind still continues 
 of great benefit, giving occasion for those happy epithets 
 of turgidus and inflatus, applied either to the emittent or 30 
 recipient organs. 
 
158 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 By what I have gathered out of ancient records, I find 
 the compass of their doctrine took in two-and-thirty points, 
 wherein it would be tedious to be very particular. How- 
 ever, a few of their most important precepts, deducible 
 5 from it, are by no means to be omitted ; among which the 
 following maxim was of much weight ; that since wind had 
 the master share, as well as operation, in every compound, 
 by consequence, those beings must be of chief excellence, 
 wherein that primordium appears most prominently to 
 
 10 abound ; and therefore man is in highest perfection of 
 all created things, as having, by the great bounty of phi- 
 losophers, been endued with three distinct animas or winds, 
 to which the sage ^Eolists, with much liberality, have added 
 a fourth, of equal necessity as well as ornament with the ' 
 
 15 other three ; by this quartum principium, taking in the four 
 corners of the world ; which gave occasion to that renowned 
 cabalist, Bumbastus, of placing the body of man in due 
 position to the four cardinal points. 
 
 In consequence of this, their next principle was, that 
 
 20 man brings with him into the world, a peculiar portion 
 or grain of wind, which may be called a quinta essentia, 
 extracted from the other four. This quintessence is of 
 catholic use upon all emergencies of life, is improveable 
 into all arts and sciences, and may be wonderfully refined, 
 
 25 as well as enlarged, by certain methods in education. 
 This, when blown up to its perfection, ought not to be 
 covetously hoarded up, stifled, or hid under a bushel, but 
 freely communicated to mankind. 
 
 Their gods were the four winds, whom they worshipped, 
 
 30 as the spirits that pervade and enliven the universe, and as 
 those from whom alone all inspiration can properly be said 
 to proceed. However, the chief of these, to whom they 
 performed the adoration of latria, was the almighty North, 
 an ancient deity, whom the inhabitants of Megalopolis, in 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 159 
 
 Greece, had likewise in the highest reverence : omnium 
 deorum Boream maxime celebrant. This god, though endued 
 with ubiquity, was yet supposed, by the profounder ^Eolists, 
 to possess one peculiar habitation, or, (to speak in form,) a 
 cesium empyrceum, wherein he was more intimately present. 5 
 This was situated in a certain region, well known to the 
 ancient Greeks, by them called, Scoria, or the land of 
 darkness. And although many controversies have arisen 
 upon that matter, yet so much is undisputed, that from a 
 region of the like denomination, the most refined ^Eolists 10 
 have borrowed their original ; whence, in every age, . the 
 zealous among their priesthood have brought over their 
 choicest inspiration, fetching it with their own hands from 
 the fountain-head in certain bladders, and disploding it 
 among the sectaries in all nations, who did, and do, and 15 
 ever will, daily gasp and pant after it. 
 
 And whereas the mind of man, when he gives the spur 
 and bridle to his thoughts, doth never stop, but naturally 
 sallies out into both extremes, of high and low, of good 
 and evil ; his first flight of fancy commonly transports him 20 
 to ideas of what is most perfect, finished, and exalted ; till, 
 having soared out of his own reach and sight, not well 
 perceiving how near the frontiers of height and depth 
 border upon each other; with the same course and wing, 
 he falls down plumb into the lowest bottom of things ; like 25 
 one who travels the east into the west; or like a straight 
 line drawn by its own length into a circle. Whether a 
 tincture of malice in our natures makes us fond of fur- 
 nishing every bright idea with its reverse ; or whether 
 reason, reflecting upon the sum of things, can, like the sun, 30 
 serve only to enlighten one half of the globe, leaving the 
 other half by necessity under shade and darkness; or 
 whether fancy, flying up to the imagination of what is 
 highest and best, becomes overshot, and spent, and weary, 
 
160 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 and suddenly falls, like a dead bird of paradise, to the 
 ground; or whether, after all these metaphysical conjec- 
 tures, I have not entirely missed the true reason; the 
 proposition, however, which hath stood me in so much 
 5 circumstance, is altogether true ; that, as the most un- 
 civilized parts of mankind have some way or other climbed 
 up into the conception of a god, or supreme power, so they 
 have seldom forgot to provide their fears with certain 
 ghastly notions, which, instead of better, have served than 
 
 io pretty tolerably for a devil. And this proceeding seems to 
 be natural enough ; for it is with men, whose imaginations 
 are lifted up very high, after the same rate as with those 
 whose bodies are so ; that, as they are delighted with the 
 advantage of a nearer contemplation upwards, so they are 
 
 15 equally terrified with the dismal prospect of a precipice 
 below. Thus, in the choice of a devil, it hath been the 
 usual method of mankind, to single out some being, either 
 in act or in vision, which was in most antipathy to the god 
 they had framed. Thus also the sect of ^Eolists possessed 
 
 20 themselves with a dread, and horror, and hatred of two 
 malignant natures, betwixt whom, and the deities they 
 adored, perpetual enmity was established. The first of 
 these was the chameleon, sworn foe to inspiration, who in 
 scorn devoured large influences of their god, without re- 
 
 25 funding the smallest blast by eructation. The other was a 
 huge terrible monster, called Moulinavent, who, with four 
 strong arms, waged eternal battle with all their divinities, 
 dexterously turning to avoid their blows, and repay them 
 with interest. 
 
 30 Thus furnished, and set out with gods, as well as devils, 
 was the renowned sect of ^Eolists, which makes at this day 
 so illustrious a figure in the world, and whereof that polite 
 nation of Laplanders are, beyond all doubt, a most au- 
 thentic branch ; of whom I therefore cannot, without in- 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 161 
 
 justice, here omit to make honourable mention ; since they 
 appear to be so closely allied in point of interest, as well as 
 inclinations, with their brother ^Eolists among us, as not 
 only to buy their winds by wholesale from the same mer- 
 chants, but also to retail them after the same rate and 5- 
 method, and to customers much alike. 
 
 Now, whether the system here delivered was wholly 
 compiled by Jack ; or, as some writers believe, rather 
 copied from the original at Delphos, with certain additions 
 and emendations, suited to times and circumstances ; I i° 
 shall not absolutely determine. This I may affirm, that 
 Jack gave it at least a new turn, and formed 1 ' it into the 
 same dress and model as it lies deduced by me. 
 
 I have long sought after this opportunity of doing justice 
 to a society of men for whom I have a peculiar honour; 15 
 and whose opinions, as well as practices, have been ex- 
 tremely misrepresented and traduced by the malice or 
 ignorance of their adversaries. For I think it one of the 
 greatest and best of human actions, to remove prejudices, 
 and place things in their truest and fairest light; which I 20 
 therefore boldly undertake, without any regards of my own, 
 besides the conscience, the honour, and the thanks. 
 
 Sect. IX. — A Digression concerning the Original, the Use, 
 and Improvement of Madness, in a Commonwealth. 
 
 Nor shall it any ways detract from the just reputation of 25 
 this famous sect, that its rise and institution are owing to 
 such an author as I jiave described Jack to be ; a person 
 whose intellectuals were overturned, and his brain shaken 
 out of its natural position; which we commonly suppose 
 to be a distemper, and call by the name of madness or 30 
 phrensy. For, if we take a survey of the greatest actions 
 that have been performed in. the world, under the influence 
 
 vol. 1. M 
 
l6a SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 of single men ; which are, the establishment of new empire! 
 by conquest ; the advance and progress of new schemes ir 
 philosophy ; and the contriving, as well as the propagating 
 of new religions ; we shall find the authors of them all tc 
 
 S have been persons, whose natural reason hath admittec 
 great revolutions, from their diet, their education, the preva 
 lency of some certain temper, together with the particula: 
 influence of air and climate. Besides, there is somethinj 
 individual in human minds, that easily kindles, at thi 
 
 10 accidental approach and collision of certain circumstances 
 which, though of paltry and mean appearance, do oftei 
 flame out into the greatest emergencies of life. For grea 
 turns are not always given by strong hands, but by luck; 
 adaption, and at proper seasons ; and it is of no impoi 
 
 15 where the fire was kindled, if the vapour has once got uj 
 into the brain. For the upper region of man is furnisha 
 like the middle region of the air ; the materials are forme 
 from causes of the widest difference, yet produce at last th 
 same substance and effect. Mists arise from the earth 
 
 20 steams from dunghills, exhalations from the sea, and smok 
 from fire ; yet all clouds are the same in composition a 
 well as consequences, and the fumes issuing from a dunghi 
 will furnish as comely and useful a vapour as incense froi 
 an altar. Thus far, I suppose, will easily be granted me 
 
 25 and then it will follow, that, as the face of nature nev< 
 produces rain, but when it is overcast and disturbed, s 
 human understanding, seated in the brain, must be trouble 
 and overspread by vapours, ascending from the lower facii 
 ties to water the invention, and render it fruitful. Now, 
 
 30 although these vapours (as it hath been already said) are of 
 as various original as those of the skies, yet the crops they 
 produce differ both in kind and degree, merely according 
 to the soil. I will produce two instances to prove and 
 explain what I am now advancing. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 63 
 
 A certain great prince raised a mighty army, filled his 
 coffers with infinite treasures, provided an invincible fleet, 
 and all this without giving the least part of his design to his 
 greatest ministers, or his nearest favourites. Immediately 
 the whole world was alarmed ; the neighbouring crowns in 5 
 trembling expectations, towards what point the storm would 
 burst; the small politicians everywhere forming profound 
 conjectures. Some believed he had laid a scheme for 
 universal monarchy ; others, after much insight, determined 
 the matter to be a project for pulling down the pope, and 10 
 setting up the reformed religion, which had once been his 
 own. Some, again, of a deeper sagacity, sent him into 
 Asia to subdue the Turk, and recover Palestine. In the 
 midst of all these projects and preparations, a certain state- 
 surgeon, gathering the nature of the disease by these 15 
 symptoms, attempted the cure, at one blow performed the 
 operation, broke the bag, and out flew the vapour ; nor did 
 anything want to render it a complete remedy, only that the 
 prince unfortunately happened to die in the performance. 
 Now, is the reader exceeding curious to learn from whence 20 
 this vapour took its rise, which had so long set the nations 
 at a gaze ? what secret wheel, what hidden spring, could 
 put into motion so wonderful an engine ? It was afterwards 
 discovered, that the movement of this whole machine had 
 been directed by an absent female. 25 
 
 The other instance is what I have read somewhere in a 
 very ancient author, of a mighty king, who, for the space of 
 above thirty years, amused himself to take and lose towns ; 
 beat armies, and be beaten; drive princes out of their 
 dominions ; fright children from their bread and butter ; 30 
 burn, lay waste, plunder, dragoon, massacre subject and 
 stranger, friend and foe, male and female. 'Tis recorded, 
 that the philosophers of each country were in grave dispute 
 upon causes natural, moral, and political, to find out 
 
 M 2 
 
164 SELECTIONS PROM SWIFT. 
 
 ■where they should assign an original solution of this phe- 
 nomenon. At last, the vapour or spirit, which animated 
 the hero's brain, being in perpetual circulation, seized upon 
 one region of the human body, and, gathering there into 
 5 a tumour, left the rest of the world for that time in peace, 
 Of such mighty consequence it is where those exhalations 
 fix, and of so little from whence they proceed. 
 
 Let us next examine the great introducers of new schemes 
 in philosophy, and search till we can find from what faculty 
 
 io of the soul the disposition arises in mortal man, of taking 
 it into his head to advance new systems, with such an eager 
 zeal, in things agreed on all hands impossible to be known; 
 from what seeds this disposition springs, and to what quality 
 of human nature these grand innovators have been indebted 
 
 15 for their number of disciples. Because it is plain, that 
 several of the chief among them, both ancient and modern, 
 were usually mistaken by their adversaries, and indeed by 
 all, except their own followers, to have been persons crazed, 
 or out of their wits; having generally proceeded, in the 
 
 20 common course of their words and actions, by a method 
 very different from the vulgar dictates of unrefined reason ; 
 agreeing for the most part in their several models, with 
 their present undoubted successors in the academy of 
 modern Bedlam ; whose merits and principles I shall 
 
 25 farther examine in due place. Of this kind were Epicurus, 
 Diogenes, Apollonius, Lucretius, Paracelsus, Des Cartes, 
 and others ; who, if they were now in the world, tied fast, 
 and separate from their followers, would, in this our undis- 
 tinguishing age, incur manifest danger of phlebotomy, and 
 
 30 whips, and chains, and dark chambers, and straw. For 
 what man, in the natural state or course of thinking, did 
 ever conceive it in his power to reduce the notions of all 
 mankind exactly to the same length, and breadth, and 
 height of his own ? yet this is the first humble and civil 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 65 
 
 design of all innovators in the empire of reason. Epicurus 
 modestly hoped, that, one time or other, a certain fortuitous 
 concourse of all men's opinions, after perpetual justlings, 
 the sharp with the smooth, the light and the heavy, the 
 round and the square, would, by certain clinamina, unite 5 
 in the notions of atoms and void, as these did in the 
 originals of all things. Cartesius reckoned to see, before 
 he died, the sentiments of all philosophers, like so many 
 lesser stars in his romantic system, rapt and drawn within 
 his own vortex. Now, I would jjgladly be informed, how 10 
 it is possible to account for such imaginations as these 
 in particular men, without recourse to my phenomenon 
 of vapours, ascending, from the lower faculties to over- 
 shadow the brain, and there distilling into conceptions, 
 for which the narrowness of our-^. mother-tongue has not 15 
 yet assigned any other name besides that of madness or 
 phrensy. Let us therefore now conjecture how it comes 
 to pass, that none of these great prescribers do ever fail 
 providing themselves and their notions with a number 
 of implicit disciples. And, I think, the reason is easy 20 
 to be assigned : for there is a peculiar string in the har- 
 mony of human understanding, which, in several indi- 
 viduals, is exactly of the same tuning. This, if you can 
 dexterously screw up to its right- key, and then strike 
 gently upon it, whenever you have the good fortune to 25 
 light among those of the same pitch, they will, by a secret 
 necessary sympathy, strike exactly at the same time. And 
 in this one circumstance lies all the skill or luck of the 
 matter; for, if you chance to jar the string among those 
 who are either above or below your own height, instead 30 
 of subscribing to your doctrine, they will tie you fast, call 
 you mad, and feed you with bread and water. It is there- 
 fore a point of the nicest conduct, to distinguish and adapt 
 this noble talent, with respect to the differences of persons 
 
1 66 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 and of times. Cicero understood this very well, when writing 
 to a friend in England, with a caution, among other matters 
 to beware of being cheated by our hackney-coachmen, (who, 
 it seems, in those days were as arrant rascals as they are 
 5 now,) has these remarkable words : Est quod gaudeas te in 
 ista loca venisse, ubi aliquid sapere viderere. For, to speak 
 a bold truth, it is a fatal miscarriage so ill to order affairs, 
 as to pass for a fool in one company, when, in another, you 
 might be treated as a philosopher. Which I desire some 
 
 io certain gentlemen of my acquaintance to lay up in their 
 hearts, as a very seasonable innuendo. 
 
 This, indeed, was the fatal mistake of that worthy gentle- 
 man, my most ingenious friend, Mr. Wotton : a person, 
 in appearance, ordained for great designs, as well as per- 
 
 ^formances; whether you will consider his notions or his 
 looks. Surely no man ever advanced into the public with 
 fitter qualifications of body and mind, for the propagation 
 of a new religion. Oh, had those happy talents, misapplied 
 to vain philosophy, been turned into their proper channels 
 
 20 of dreams and visions, where distortion of mind and coun- 
 tenance are of such sovereign use, the base detracting 
 world would not then have dared to report, that something 
 is amiss, that his brain hath undergone an unlucky shake; 
 which even his brother modernists themselves, like ungrates, 
 
 25 do whisper so loud, that it reaches up to the very garret 
 I am now writing in ! 
 
 Lastly, whosoever pleases to look into the fountains of 
 enthusiasm, from whence, in all ages, have eternally pro- 
 ceeded such fattening streams, will find the spring-head 
 
 30 to have been as troubled and muddy as the current : of 
 such great emolument is a tincture of this vapour, which 
 the world calls madness, that without its help, the world 
 would not only be deprived of those two great blessings, 
 conquests and systems, but even all mankind would 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. l6j 
 
 happily be reduced to the same belief in things invisible. 
 Now, the former postulatum being held, that it is of no 
 import from what originals this vapour proceeds, but either 
 in what angles it strikes and spreads over the understanding, - 
 or upon what species of brain it ascends ; it will be a very 5 
 delicate point to cut the feather, and divide the several 
 reasons to a nice and curious reader, how this numeri- 
 cal difference in the brain can produce effects of so vast 
 a difference from the same vapour, as to be the sole 
 point of individuation between Alexander the Great, Jack 10 
 of Leyden, and Monsieur des Cartes. The present argu- 
 ment is the most abstracted that ever I engaged in ; it 
 strains my faculties to their highest stretch: and I desire 
 the reader to attend with the utmost perpensity ; for I now 
 proceed to unravel this knotty point. 15 
 
 There is in mankind a certain * * * * 
 
 * ******** 
 Hie tnulta ******* 
 
 desiderantur ******* 
 
 * * And this I take to be a clear solution of the 20 
 matter. 
 
 Having therefore so narrowly passed through this in- 
 tricate difficulty, the reader will, I am sure, agree with 
 me in the conclusion, that if the moderns mean by madness, 
 only a disturbance or transposition of the brain, by force of 25 
 certain vapours issuing up from the lower faculties, then 
 hath this madness been the parent of all those mighty 
 revolutions that have happened in empire, in philosophy, 
 and in religion. For the brain, in its natural position 
 and state of serenity, disposes its owner to pass his life 30 
 in the common forms, without any thought of subduing 
 multitudes to his own power, his reasons, or his visions; 
 and the more he shapes his understanding by the pattern 
 of human learning, the less he is inclined to form parties, 
 
1 68 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 after ' his particular notions, because that instructs him in 
 his private infirmities, as well as in the stubborn ignorance 
 of the people. But when a man's fancy gets astride on 
 his reason ; when imagination is at cuffs with the senses ; 
 5 and common understanding, as well as common sense, 
 is kicked out of doors; the first proselyte he makes is 
 himself; and when that is once compassed, the difficulty 
 is not so great in bringing over others; a strong delusion 
 always operating from without as vigorously as from within. 
 
 10 For cant and vision are to the ear and the eye, the same 
 that tickling is to the touch. Those entertainments and 
 pleasures we most value in life, are such as dupe and play 
 the wag with the senses. For, if we take an examination 
 of what is generally understood by happiness, as it hath 
 
 15 respect either to the understanding or the senses, we shall 
 find all its properties and adjuncts will herd under this 
 short definition, that it is a perpetual possession of being 
 well deceived. And, first, with relation to the mind or 
 understanding, 'tis manifest what mighty advantages fiction 
 
 20 has over truth ; and the reason is just at our elbow, because 
 imagination can build nobler scenes, and produce more 
 wonderful revolutions, than fortune or nature will be at 
 expense to furnish. Nor is mankind so much to blame 
 in his choice, thus determining him, if we consider that 
 
 25 the debate merely lies between things past and things 
 conceived : and so the question is only this ; whether 
 things, that have place in the imagination, may not as 
 properly be said to exist, as those that are seated in the 
 memory; which may be justly held in the affirmative, 
 
 30 and very much to the advantage of the former, since 
 this is acknowledged to be the womb of things, and the 
 other allowed to be no more than the grave. Again, 
 if we take this definition of happiness, and examine it 
 with reference to the senses, it will be acknowledged 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 69 
 
 wonderfully adapt: How fading and insipid do all objects 
 accost us, that are not conveyed in the vehicle of delusion ! 
 how shrunk is everything, as it appears in the glass of 
 nature ! so that if it were not for the assistance of artificial 
 mediums, false lights, refracted angles, varnish and tinsel, 5 
 there would be a mighty level in the felicity and enjoyments 
 of mortal men. If this were seriously considered by the 
 world, as I have a certain reason to suspect it hardly will, 
 men would no longer reckon among their high points of 
 wisdom, the art of exposing weak sides, and publishing 10 
 infirmities ; an employment, in my opinion, neither better 
 nor worse than that of unmasking, which, I think, has 
 never been allowed fair usage, either in the world, or in the 
 play-house. 
 
 In the proportion that credulity is a more peaceful 15 
 possession of the mind than curiosity; so far preferable 
 is that wisdom, which converses about the surface, to 
 that pretended philosophy, which enters into the depth 
 of things, and then comes gravely back with informa- 
 tions and discoveries, that in the inside they are good 20 
 for nothing. The two senses, to which all objects first 
 address themselves, are the sight and the touch; these 
 never examine farther than the colour, the shape, the 
 size, and whatever other qualities dwell, or are drawn by 
 art upon the outward of bodies ; and then comes reason 25 
 officiously with tools for cutting, and opening, and mangling, 
 and piercing, offering to demonstrate, that they are not 
 of the same consistence quite through. Now I take all 
 this to be the last degree of perverting nature; one o£ > 
 whose eternal laws it is, to put her best furniture forward. 30 , 
 And therefore, in order to save the charges of all such 
 expensive anatomy for the time to come, I do here think 
 fit to inform the reader, that in such conclusions as these, 
 reason is certainly in the right ; and that in most corporeal 
 
170 SELECTIONS FROM StVIFT. 
 
 beings, which have fallen under my cognizance, the outside 
 has been infinitely preferable to the in : whereof I have 
 been farther convinced from some late experiments. Last 
 week I saw a woman flayed, and you will hardly believe 
 
 5 how much it altered her person for the worse. Yesterday 
 I ordered the carcase of a beau to be stripped in my pre* 
 sence; when we were all amazed to find so many un- 
 suspected faults under one suit of clothes. Then I laid 
 open his brain, his heart, and his spleen : but I plainly 
 
 10 perceived at every operation, that the farther we pro- 
 ceeded, we found the defects increase upon us in num- 
 ber and bulk : from all which, I justly formed this con- 
 clusion to myself, that whatever philosopher or projector 
 can find out an art to solder and patch up the flaws 
 
 15 and imperfections of nature, will deserve much better 
 of mankind, and teach us a more useful science, than thatv- 
 so much in present esteem, of widening and exposing 
 them, like him who held anatomy to be the ultimate 
 end of physic. And he, whose fortunes and dispositions 
 
 20 have placed him in a convenient station to enjoy the 
 fruits of this noble art ; he that can, with Epicurus, content 
 his ideas with the films and images that fly off upon his 
 senses from the superficies of things; such a man, truly 
 wise, creams off nature, leaving the sour and the dregs 
 
 25 for philosophy and reason to lap up. This is the sublime 
 and refined point of felicity, called the possesssion of being 
 well deceived ; the serene peaceful state, of being a fool 
 among knaves. 
 
 But to return to madness. It is certain, that, accord- 
 
 30 ing to the system I have above deduced, every species 
 thereof proceeds from a redundancy of vapour; there- 
 fore, as some kinds of phrensy give double strength to 
 the sinews, so there are of other species, which add 
 vigour, and life, and spirit to the brain : now, it usually 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 17 1 
 
 happens, that these active spirits, getting possession of 
 the brain, resemble those that haunt other waste and 
 empty dwellings, which, for want of business, either vanish, 
 and carry away a piece of the house, or else stay at home, 
 and fling it all out of the windows. By which, are mys- 5 
 tically displayed the two principal branches of madness, 
 and which some philosophers, not considering so well 
 as I, have mistook to be different in their causes, over 
 hastily assigning the first to deficiency, and the other to 
 redundance. 10 
 
 I think it therefore manifest, from what I have here 
 advanced, that the main point of skill and address is, to 
 furnish employment for this redundancy of vapour, and 
 prudently to adjust the seasons of it ; by which means, 
 it may certainly become of cardinal and catholic emolu- 15 
 ment, in a commonwealth. Thus one man, choosing a 
 proper juncture, leaps into a gulf, from thence proceeds 
 a hero, and is called the saviour of his country : another 
 achieves the same enterprize, but, unluckily timing it, 
 has left the brand of madness fixed as a reproach upon 20 
 his memory : upon so nice a distinction, are we taught 
 to repeat the name of Curtius with reverence and love ; 
 that of Empedocles with hatred and contempt. Thus 
 also it is usually conceived, that the elder Brutus only 
 personated the fool and madman for the good of the 25 
 public; but this was nothing else than a redundancy of 
 the same vapour long misapplied, called by the Latins, 
 ingenium par negotiis l ; or, to translate it as nearly as 
 I can, a sort of phrensy, never in its right element, till you 
 take it up in business of the state. 3° 
 
 Upon all which, and many other reasons of equal 
 weight, though not equally curious, I do here gladly 
 
 1 Tacitus. 
 
17a SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 embrace an opportunity I have long sought for, of re- 
 commending it as a very noble undertaking to Sir Edward 
 Seymour, Sir Christopher Musgrave, Sir John Bowls, John 
 How, Esq., and other patriots concerned, that they would 
 S move for leave to bring in a bill for appointing com- 
 missioners to inspect into Bedlam, and the parts adjacent; 
 who shall be empowered to send for persons, papers, and 
 records ; to examine into the merits and qualifications of 
 every student and professor; to observe with utmost 
 
 10 exactness their several dispositions and behaviour; by 
 which means, duly distinguishing and adapting their talents, 
 they might produce admirable instruments for the several 
 offices in a state, * * * * * , civil, and 
 
 military; proceeding in such methods as I shall here 
 
 15 humbly propose. And I hope the gentle reader will give 
 some allowance to my great solicitudes in this important 
 affair, upon account of the high esteem I have ever borne 
 that honourable society, whereof I had some time the happi- 
 ness to be an unworthy member. 
 
 20 Is any student tearing his straw in piecemeal, swearing 
 and blaspheming, biting his grate, foaming at the mouth? 
 let the right worshipful the commissioners of inspection 
 give him a regiment of dragoons, and send . him into 
 Flanders among the rest. Is another eternally, talking, 
 
 25 sputtering, gaping, bawling in a sound without period or 
 article ? what wonderful talents are here mislaid ! let him 
 be furnished immediately with a green bag and papers, and 
 threepence in his pocket 1 , and away with him to West- 
 minster Hall. You will find a third gravely taking the 
 
 30 dimensions of his kennel ; a person of foresight and insight, 
 though kept quite in the dark; for why, like Moses, tax 
 cornuta er at ejus fades. He walks duly in one .pace, entreats 
 
 1 A lawyer's coach-hire, when four together, from any of the inns 
 of court to Westminster. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 73 
 
 your penny with due gravity and ceremony; talks much 
 of hard times, and taxes, and the whore of Babylon ; bars 
 up the wooden window of his cell constantly at eight 
 o'clock; dreams of fire, and shoplifters and court cus- 
 tomers, and privileged places. Now, what a figure would 5 
 all these acquirements amount to, if the owner were sent 
 into the city among his brethren ! Behold a fourth, in 
 much and deep conversation with himself, biting his 
 thumbs at proper junctures ; his countenance chequered 
 with business and design ; sometimes walking very fast, 10 
 with his eyes nailed to a paper that he holds in his hands : 
 a great saver of time, somewhat thick of hearing, very short 
 of sight, but more of memory : a man ever in haste, a great 
 hatcher and breeder of business, and excellent at the famous 
 art of whispering nothing : a huge idolater of monosyllables 15 
 and procrastination; so ready to give his word to every- 
 body, that he never keeps it : one that has forgot the 
 common meaning of words, but an admirable retainer of 
 the sound. If you approach his grate in his familiar in- 
 tervals ; Sir, says he, give me a penny, and I'll sing you 20 
 a song: but give me the penny first. (Hence comes the 
 common saying, and commoner practice, of parting with 
 money for a song.) What a complete system of court skill 
 is here described in every branch of it, and all utterly lost 
 with wrong application ! Accost the hole of another kennel, 25 x 
 (first stopping your nose,) you will behold a surly, gloomy, 
 nasty, slovenly mortal. The student of this apartment is 
 very sparing of his words, but somewhat over-liberal of 
 his breath: he holds his hand out ready to receive your 
 penny, and immediately upon receipt withdraws to his 30 
 former occupations. Now, is it not amazing to think, the 
 society of Warwick Lane should have no more concern for 
 the recovery of so useful a member ; who, if one may judge 
 from these appearances, would become the greatest ornament 
 
174 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 to that illustrious body ? Another student struts up fiercely 
 to your teeth, puffing with his lips, half squeezing out his 
 eyes, and very graciously holds you out his hand to kiss. 
 The keeper desires you not to be afraid of this professor, 
 5 for he will do you no hurt : to him alone is allowed the 
 liberty of the ante-chamber, and the orator of the place 
 gives you to understand, that this solemn person is a 
 tailor run mad with pride. This considerable student is 
 adorned with many other qualities, upon which at present 
 
 10 I shall not farther enlarge. Hark in your ear — I am 
 
 strangely mistaken, if all his address, his motions, and 
 his airs, would not then be very natural, and in their proper 
 element. 
 
 I shall not descend so minutely, as to insist upon the 
 
 15 vast number of beaux, fiddlers, poets, and politicians; that 
 the world might recover by such a reformation ; but what is 
 more material, besides the clear gain redounding to the 
 commonwealth, by so large an acquisition of persons to 
 employ, whose talents and acquirements, if I may be so 
 
 20 bold to affirm it, are now buried, or at least misapplied ; 
 it would be a mighty advantage accruing to the public from 
 this inquiry, that all these would very much excel, and 
 arrive at great perfection in their several kinds ; which, I 
 think, is manifest from what I have already shewn, and 
 
 25 shall enforce by this one plain instance ; that even I myself, 
 the author of these momentous truths, am a person, whose 
 imaginations are hard-mouthed, and exceedingly disposed 
 to run away with his reason, which I have observed, from 
 long experience, to be a very light rider, and easily shook 
 
 30 off; upon which account, my friends will never trust me 
 alone, without a solemn promise to vent my speculations in 
 this, or the like manner, for the universal benefit of human 
 kind; which perhaps the gentle, courteous, and candid 
 reader, brimful of that modern charity and tenderness 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 75 
 
 usually annexed to his office, will be very hardly persuaded 
 to believe. 
 
 Sect. X. — A Farther Digression. 
 
 It is an unanswerable argument of a very refined age, the 
 wonderful civilities that have passed of late years between 5 
 the nation of authors and that of readers. There can 
 hardly pop out a play, a pamphlet, or a poem, without a 
 preface full of acknowledgments to the world for the general 
 reception and applause they have given it, which the Lord 
 knows where, or when, or how, or from whom it received. 10 
 In due deference to so laudable a custom, I do here return 
 my humble thanks to his Majesty, and both houses of 
 Parliament ; to the Lords of the King's Most Honourable 
 Privy Council ; to the reverend the Judges ; to the clergy, 
 and gentry, and yeomanry of this land: but in a more 15 
 especial manner to my worthy brethren and friends at 
 Will's coffee house, and Gresham College, and Warwick Lane, 
 and Moorfields, and Scotland Yard, and Westminster Hall, 
 and Guildhall : in short, to all inhabitants and retainers 
 whatsoever, either in court, or church, or camp, or city, or 20 
 country, for their generous and universal acceptance of this 
 divine treatise. I accept their approbation and good 
 opinion with extreme gratitude, and, to the utmost of my 
 poor capacity, shall take hold of all opportunities to return 
 the obligation. 25 
 
 I am also happy, that fate has flung me into so blessed 
 an age for the mutual felicity of booksellers and authors, 
 whom I may safely affirm to be at this day the two only 
 satisfied parties in England. Ask an author how his last 
 piece has succeeded ; why, truly, he thanks his stars, the 30 
 world has been very favourable, and he has not the least 
 reason to complain : and yet, by G — , he writ it in a 
 week, at bits and starts, when he could steal an hour from 
 
176 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 his urgent affairs ; as, it is a hundred to one, you may see 
 farther in the preface, to which he refers you ; and for the 
 rest, to the bookseller. There you go as a customer, and 
 make the same question : he blesses his God the thing 
 
 5 takes wonderful, he is just printing a second edition, 
 and has but three left in his shop. You beat down the 
 price : sir, we shall not differ ; and, in hopes of your 
 custom another time, lets you have it as reasonable as you 
 please ; and pray send as many of your acquaintance as you 
 
 10 will, I shall, upon your account, furnish them all at the 
 same rate. 
 
 Now, it is not well enough considered, to what acci- 
 dents and occasions the world is indebted for the greatest 
 part of those noble writings, which hourly star,t up to 
 
 15 entertain it. If it were not for a rainy day, a drunken 
 vigil, a fit of the spleen, a course of physic, a sleepy 
 Sunday, an ill run at dice, a long tailor's bill, a beggar's 
 purse, a factious head, a hot sun, costive diet, want of 
 books, and a just contempt of learning ; but for these 
 
 20 events, I say, and some others too long to recite (espe j 
 cially a prudent neglect of taking brimstone inwardly) 
 I doubt, the number of authors and of writings would 
 dwindle away to a degree most woful to behold. To 
 confirm this opinion, hear the words of the famous Trog- 
 
 25 lodyte philosopher : 'Tis certain, (said he,) some grains 
 of folly are of course annexed, as part in the composi- 
 tion of human nature, only the choice is left us, whether 
 we please to wear them inlaid or embossed : and we need 
 not go very far to seek how that is usually determined, 
 
 30 when we remember it is with human faculties as with 
 liquors, the lightest will be ever at the top. 
 
 There is in this famous island of Britain a certain paltry 
 scribbler, very voluminous, whose character the reader can- 
 not wholly be a stranger to. He deals in a pernicious. kind 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 177 
 
 of writings, called second parts ; and usually passes under 
 the name of the author of the first. I easily foresee, that 
 as soon as I lay down my pen, this nimble operator will have 
 stole it, and treat me as inhumanly as he hath already done 
 Dr. Blackmore, Lestrange, and many others, who shall here be 5 
 nameless; I therefore fly for justice and relief into the hands 
 of that great rectifier of saddles, and lover of mankind, Dr. 
 Bentley; begging he will take this enormous grievance into 
 his most modern consideration : and if it should so happen, 
 that the furniture of an ass, in the shape of a second part, 10 
 must, for my sins, be clapped by a mistake upon my back, 
 that he will immediately please, in the presence of the 
 world, to lighten me of the burden, and take it home to his 
 own house, till the true beast thinks fit to call for it. 
 
 In the meantime I do here give this public notice, that 15 
 my resolutions are to circumscribe, within this discourse, the 
 whole stock of matter I have been so many years providing. 
 Since my vein is once opened, I am content to exhaust it 
 all at a running, for the peculiar advantage of my dear 
 country, and for the universal benefit of mankind. There- 20 
 fore, hospitably considering the number of my guests, they 
 shall have my whole entertainment at a meal ; and I scorn 
 to set up the leavings in the cupboard. What the guests 
 cannot eat, may be given to the poor ; and the dogs under 
 the table may gnaw the bones. This I understand for a 25 
 more generous proceeding, than to turn the company's 
 stomach, by inviting them again to-morrow to a scurvy meal 
 of scraps. 
 
 If the reader fairly considers the strength of what I have 
 advanced in the foregoing section, I am convinced it will 30 
 produce a wonderful revolution in his notions and opinions ; 
 and he will be abundantly better prepared to receive and 
 to relish the concluding part of this miraculous treatise. 
 Readers may be divided into three classes, the superficial, 
 
 vol. 1. N 
 
178 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 the ignorant, and the learned : and I have with much 
 felicity fitted my pen to the genius and advantage of each. 
 The superficial reader will be strangely provoked to laughter • 
 which clears the breast and the lungs, is sovereign against 
 5 the spleen, and the most innocent of all diuretics. The 
 ignorant reader, between whom and the former the distinc- 
 tion is extremely nice, will find himself disposed to stare 1 
 which is an admirable remedy for ill eyes, serves to raise 
 and enliven the spirits, and wonderfully helps perspiration. 
 
 10 But the reader truly learned, chiefly for whose benefit I 
 wake when others sleep, and sleep when others wake, will 
 here find sufficient matter to employ his speculations for the 
 rest of his life. It were much to be wished, and I do here 
 humbly propose for an experiment, that every prince in 
 
 15 Christendom will take seven of the deepest scholars in his 
 dominions, and shut them up close for seven years in seven 
 chambers, with a command to write seven ample commen- 
 taries on this comprehensive discourse. I shall venture to 
 affirm, that whatever difference may be found in their 
 
 20 several conjectures, they will be all, without the least dis- 
 tortion, manifestly deducible from the text. Meantime, it 
 is my earnest request, that so useful an undertaking may be 
 entered upon, if their Majesties please, with all convenient 
 speed ; because I have a strong inclination, before I leave 
 
 25 the world, to taste a blessing, which we mysterious writers 
 can seldom reach, till we have got into our graves: 
 whether it is, that fame, being a fruit grafted on the body, 
 can hardly grow, and much less ripen, till the stock is in 
 the earth : or, whether she be a bird of prey, and is lured, 
 
 30 among the rest, to pursue after the scent of a carcase : or, 
 whether she conceives her trumpet sounds best and farthest 
 when she stands on a tomb, by the advantage of a rising 
 ground, and the echo of a hollow vault. 
 
 Tis true, indeed, the republic of dark authors, after they 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 79 
 
 once found out this excellent expedient of dying, have been 
 peculiarly happy in the variety, as well as extent of their 
 reputation. For, night being the universal mother of things, 
 wise philosophers hold all writings to be fruitful, in the pro- 
 portion they are dark ; and therefore, the true illuminated z 5 
 (that is to say, the darkest of all) have met with such 
 numberless commentators, whose scholastic midwifery hath 
 delivered them of meanings, that the authors themselves 
 perhaps never conceived, and yet may very justly be 
 allowed the lawful parents of them ; the words of such 10 
 writers being like seed, which, however scattered at random, 
 when they light upon a fruitful ground, will multiply far 
 beyond either the hopes or imagination of the sower. 
 
 And therefore, in order to promote so useful a work, I 
 will here take leave to glance a few innuendoes, that may be 15 
 of great assistance to those sublime spirits, who shall be 
 appointed to labour in a universal comment upon this 
 wonderful discourse. And, first, I have couched a very 
 profound mystery in the number of O's multiplied by seven, 
 and divided by nine. Also, if a devout brother of the rosy 20 
 cross will pray fervently for sixty-three mornings, with a 
 lively faith, and then transpose certain letters and syllables, 
 according to prescription, in the second and fifth section ; 
 they will certainly reveal into a full receipt of the opus 
 magnum. Lastly, whoever will be at the pains to calculate 25 
 the whole number of each letter in this treatise, and sum 
 up the difference exactly between the several numbers, 
 assigning the true natural cause for every such difference, the 
 discoveries in the product will plentifully reward his labour. 
 But then he must beware of Bythus and Sig6, and be sure 3° 
 not to forget the qualities of Acamoth ; a cujus lacrymis 
 humecta prodit substantia, a risu lucida, a tristitia solida, et 
 
 1 A name of the Rosicrucians. 
 
 N 2 
 
l8o SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 a timore mobilis ; wherein Eugenius Philalethes T hath com- 
 mitted an unpardonable mistake. 
 
 Sect. XI.— A Tale of a Tub. 
 
 After so wide a compass as I have wandered, I do now 
 5 gladly overtake, and close in with my subject, and shall 
 henceforth hold on with it an even pace to the end of my 
 journey, except some beautiful prospect appears within sight 
 of my way ; whereof though at present I have neither warn- 
 ing nor expectation, yet upon such an accident, come 
 
 io when it will, I shall beg my reader's favour and company, 
 allowing me to conduct him through it along with myself. 
 For in writing it is as in travelling ; if a man is in haste to 
 be at home, (which I acknowledge to be none of my case, 
 having never so little business as when I am there,) if his 
 
 15 horse be tired with long riding and ill ways, or be naturally 
 a jade, I advise him clearly to make the straightest and 
 the commonest road, be it ever so dirty : but then surely 
 we must own such a man to be a scurvy companion at 
 best ; he spatters himself and his fellow-travellers at every 
 
 20 step : all their thoughts, and wishes, and conversation, turn 
 entirely upon the subject of their journey's end ; and at 
 every splash, and plunge, and stumble, they heartily wish 
 one another at the devil. 
 
 On the other side, when a traveller and his horse are in 
 
 25 heart and plight ; when his purse is full, and the day before 
 him ; he takes the road only where it is clean and con- 
 venient ; entertains his company there as agreeably as he 
 can ; but, upon the first occasion, carries them along with 
 him to every delightful scene in view, whether of art, of 
 
 30 nature, or of both ; and if they chance to refuse, out of 
 stupidity or weariness, let them jog on by themselves and be 
 
 1 Vid. Anima magica abscondita. 
 
• A TALE OF A TUB. l8l 
 
 d— — ^n'd'; he'll overtake them at the next town ; at which 
 arriving, he rides furiously through ; the men, women, and 
 children run out to gaze ; a hundred noisy curs run barking 
 after him, of which, if he honours the boldest with a lash of 
 his whip, it is rather out of sport than revenge ; but should 5 
 some sourer mongrel dare too near an approach, he receives 
 a salute on the chaps by an accidental stroke from the 
 courser's heels, (nor is any ground lost by the blow,) which 
 sends him yelping and limping home. 
 
 I now proceed to sum up the singular adventures of my 10 
 renowned Jack ; the state of whose dispositions and fortunes 
 the careful reader does, no doubt, most exactly remember, 
 as I last parted with them in the conclusion of a former 
 section. Therefore, his next care must be, from two of the 
 foregoing, to extract a scheme of notions, that may best fit 15 
 his understanding, for a true relish of what is to ensue. 
 
 Jack had not only calculated the first revolution of his 
 brain so prudently, as to give rise to that epidemic sect of 
 ^Eolists, but succeeding also into a new and strange variety 
 of conceptions, the fruitfulness of his imagination led him 20 
 into certain notions, which, although in appearance very 
 unaccountable, were not without their mysteries and their 
 meanings, nor wanted followers to countenance and improve 
 them. I shall therefore be extremely careful and exact in 
 recounting such material passages of this nature as I have 25 
 been able to collect, either from undoubted tradition, or 
 indefatigable reading ; and shall describe them as graphi- 
 cally as it is possible, and as far as notions of that height 
 and latitude can be brought within the compass of a pen. 
 Nor do I at all question, but they will furnish plenty of 30 
 noble matter for such, whose converting imaginations 
 dispose them to reduce all things into types ; who can make 
 shadows, no thanks to the sun ; and then mould them into 
 substances, no thanks to philosophy; whose peculiar talent 
 
1 83 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 lies in fixing tropes and allegories to the letter, and refining 
 what is literal into figure and mystery. 
 
 Jack had provided a fair copy of his father's will, engrossed 
 in form upon a large skin of parchment ; and, resolving to 
 5 act the part of a most dutiful son, he became the fondest 
 creature of it imaginable. For although, as I have often 
 told the reader, it consisted wholly in certain plain, easy 
 directions, about the management and wearing of their coats, 
 with legacies and penalties in case of obedience or neglect, 
 
 10 yet he began to entertain a fancy that the matter was deeper 
 and darker, and therefore must needs have a great deal 
 more of mystery at the bottom. Gentlemen, said he, I will 
 prove this very skin of parchment to be meat, drink, and 
 cloth, to be the philosopher's stone, and the universal 
 
 15 medicine. In consequence of which raptures, he resolved 
 to make use of it in the most necessary, as well as the most 
 paltry occasions of life. He hack a way of working it into 
 any shape he pleased ; so that it served him for a nightcap 
 when he went to bed, and for an umbrella in rainy weather. 
 
 20 He would lap a piece of it about a sore toe, or, when he 
 had fits, burn two inches under his nose ; or, if anything lay 
 heavy on his stomach, scrape off, and swallow as much of 
 the powder, as would lie on a silver penny ; they were all 
 infallible remedies. With analogy to these refinements, his 
 
 25 common talk and conversation ran wholly in the phrase of 
 his will, and he circumscribed the utmost of his eloquence 
 within that compass, not daring to let slip a syllable without 
 authority from thence. 
 
 He made it a part of his religion, never to say grace to 
 
 30 his meat ; nor could all the world persuade him, as the 
 common phrase is, to eat his victuals like a Christian. 
 
 He bore a strange kind of appetite to snap-dragon, and to 
 the livid snuffs of a burning candle, which he would catch 
 and swallow with an agility wonderful to conceive ; and, by 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 83 
 
 this procedure, maintained a perpetual flame in his belly, 
 which, issuing in a glowing steam from both his eyes, as 
 well as his nostrils and his mouth, made his head appear 
 in a dark night, like the skull of an ass, wherein a roguish 
 boy hath conveyed a farthing candle, to the terror of his 5 
 majesty's liege subjects. Therefore, he made use of no 
 other expedient to light himself home, but was wont to say, 
 that a wise man was his own lantern. 
 
 He would shut his eyes as he walked along the streets, 
 and if he happened to bounce his head against a post, or 10 
 fall into a kennel, (as he seldom missed either to do one or 
 both,) he would tell the gibing prentices, who looked on, 
 that he submitted with entire resignation, as to a trip, or a 
 blow of fate, with whom he found, by long experience, how 
 vain it was either to wrestle or to cuff; and whoever durst 15 
 undertake to do either, would be sure to come off with a 
 swinging fall, or a bloody nose. It was ordained, said he, 
 some few days before the creation, that my nose and this 
 very post should have a rencounter ; and, therefore, nature 
 thought fit to send us both into the world in the same age, 20 
 and to make us countrymen and fellow-citizens. Now, had 
 my eyes been open, it is very likely the business might have 
 been a great deal worse ; for how many a confounded slip 
 is daily got by a man with all his foresight about him? 
 Besides, the eyes of the understanding see best, when those 25 
 of the senses are out of the way ; and therefore, blind men 
 are observed to tread their steps with much more caution, 
 and conduct, and judgment, than those who rely with too 
 much confidence upon the virtue of the visual nerve, which 
 every little accident shakes out of order, and a drop, or a so 
 film, can wholly disconcert ; like a lantern among a pack of 
 roaring bullies when they scour the streets, exposing its 
 owner and itself to outward kicks and buffets, which both 
 might have escaped, if the vanity of appearing would have 
 
184 SELECTIONS FROM' SWIFT. 
 
 suffered them to walk in the dark. But further, if we 
 examine the conduct of these boasted lights, it will prove 
 yet a great deal worse than their fortune. Tis true, I have' 
 broke my nose against this post, because Providence either 
 5 forgot, or did not think it convenient, to twitch me by the 
 elbow, and give me notice to avoid it. But, let not this 
 encourage either the present age, or posterity, to trust their 
 noses into the keeping of their eyes, which may prove the 
 fairest way of losing them for good and all. For, O ye eyes, 
 
 10 ye blind guides; miserable guardians are ye of our frail 
 noses ; ye, I say, who fasten upon the first precipice in view, 
 and then tow our wretched willing bodies after you, to the 
 very brink of destruction : but, alas ! that brink is rotten, 
 our feet slip, and we tumble down prone into a gulf, without 
 
 15 one hospitable shrub in the way to break the fall; a fall, to 
 which not any nose of mortal make is equal, except that of 
 the giant Laurcalco, who was lord of the silver bridge. 
 Most properly therefore, O eyes, and with great justice, may 
 you be compared to those foolish lights, which conduct men 
 
 so through dirt and darkness, till they fall into a deep pit or a 
 noisome bog. 
 
 This I have produced as a scantling of Jack's great 
 eloquence, and the force of his reasoning upon such abstruse 
 matters. 
 
 25 He was, besides, a person of great design and improve- 
 ment in affairs of devotion, having introduced a new deity,' 
 who has since met with a vast number of worshippers ; by 
 some called Babel, by others Chaos ; who had an ancient 
 temple of Gothic structure upon Salisbury plain, famous for 
 
 30 its shrine, and celebration by pilgrims. 
 
 When he had some roguish trick to play, he would down 
 with his knees, up with his eyes, and fall to prayers, though 
 in the midst of the kennel. 
 
 In winter he went always loose and unbuttoned, and cjad ' 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 85 
 
 as thin as possible, to let in the ambient heat ; and in 
 summer lapped himself close and thick to keep it out. 
 
 In all revolutions of government, he would make his 
 court for the office of hangman general : and in the exercise 
 of that dignity, wherein he was very dexterous, would make 5 
 use of no other vizard, than a long prayer. 
 
 He had a tongue so musculous and subtile, that he could 
 twist it up into his nose, and deliver a strange kind of speech 
 from thence. He was also the first in these kingdoms, who 
 began to improve the Spanish accomplishment of braying ; 10 
 and having large ears, perpetually exposed and erected, he 
 carried his art to such a perfection, that it was a point of 
 great difficulty to distinguish, either by the view or the 
 sound, between the original and the copy. 
 
 He was troubled with a disease, reverse to that called 15 
 the stinging of the tarantula; and would run dog-mad at 
 the noise of music, especially a pair of bagpipes. But he 
 would cure himself again, by taking two or three turns in 
 Westminster Hall, or Billingsgate, or in a boarding-school, 
 or the Royal Exchange, or a state coffee-house. 20 
 
 He was a person that feared no colours, but mortally 
 hated all, and, upon that account, bore a cruel aversion 
 against painters ; insomuch, that, in his paroxysms, as he 
 walked the streets, he would have his pockets loaden with 
 stones to pelt at the signs. 25 
 
 Having, from his manner of living, frequent occasions to 
 wash himself, he would often leap over head and ears into 
 the water, though it were in the midst of the winter, but was 
 always observed to come out again much dirtier, if possible, 
 than he went in. 30 
 
 He was the first that ever found out the secret of con- 
 triving a soporiferous medicine to be conveyed in at the 
 ears; it was a compound of sulphur and balm of Gilead^ 
 ' with a little pilgrim's salve. 
 
1 86 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 He wore a large plaster of artificial caustics on his 
 stomach, with the fervour of which, he could set himself a 
 groaning, like the famous board upon application of a red- 
 hot iron. 
 
 5 He would stand in the turning of a street, and, calling to 
 those who passed by, would cry to one, Worthy sir, do me 
 the honour of a good slap in the chaps. To another, Honest 
 friend, pray favour me with a handsome kick: Madam, 
 shall I entreat a small box on the ear from your ladyship's 
 
 10 fair hands ? Noble captain, lend a reasonable thwack, for 
 the love of God, with that cane of yours over these poor 
 shoulders. And when he had, by such earnest solicitations, 
 made a shift to procure a basting sufficient to swell up his 
 fancy and his sides, he would return home extremely com- 
 
 15 forted, and full of terrible accounts of what he had under- 
 gone for the public good. Observe this stroke, (said he, 
 shewing his bare shoulders,) a plaguy janizary gave it me 
 this very morning at seven o'clock, as, with much ado, I 
 was driving off the great Turk. Neighbours mine, this 
 
 20 broken head deserves a plaster : had poor Jack been tender 
 of his noddle, you would have seen the Pope and the 
 French king, long before this time of day, among your 
 wives and your warehouses. Dear Christians, the great 
 Mogul was come as far as Whitechapel, and you may thank 
 
 25 these poor sides, that he hath not (God bless us !) already 
 swallowed up man, woman, and child. 
 
 It was highly worth observing the singular effects of that 
 aversion, or antipathy, which Jack and his brother Peter 
 seemed, even to an affectation, to bear towards each other. 
 
 30 Peter had lately done some rogueries, that forced him to 
 abscond ; and he seldom ventured to stir out before night, 
 for fear of bailiffs. Their lodgings were at the two most 
 distant parts of the town from each other : and whenever 
 their occasions or humours called them abroad, they would 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 187 
 
 make choice of the oddest unlikely times, and most uncouth 
 rounds, they could invent, that they might be sure to 
 avoid one another : yet, after all this, it was their perpetual 
 fortune to meet. The reason of which is easy enough to 
 apprehend ; for, the phrensy and the spleen of both having 5 
 the same foundation, we may look upon them as two pair 
 of compasses, equally extended, and the fixed foot of each 
 remaining in the same centre ; which, though moving 
 contrary ways at first, will be sure to encounter somewhere 
 or other in the circumference. Besides, it was among the 1° 
 great misfortunes of Jack, to bear a huge personal resem- 
 blance with his brother Peter. Their humour and disposi- 
 tions were not only the same, but there was a close analogy 
 in their shape, their size, and their mien. Insomuch, as 
 nothing was more frequent than for a bailiff to seize Jack 15 
 by the shoulders, and cry, Mr. Peter, you are the king's 
 prisoner. Or, at other times, for one of Peter's nearest 
 friends to accost Jack with open arms. Dear Peter, I am 
 glad to see thee, pray send me one of your best medicines 
 for the worms. This, we may suppose, was a mortifying 20 
 return of those pains and proceedings Jack had laboured in 
 so long ; and finding how directly opposite all his endea- 
 vours had answered to the sole end and intention, which he 
 had proposed to himself, how could it avoid having terrible 
 effects upon a head and heart so furnished as his ? However, 25 
 the poor remainders of his coat bore all the punishment ; 
 the orient sun never entered upon his diurnal progress, 
 without missing a piece of it. He hired a tailor to stitch up 
 the collar so close, that it was ready to choke him, and 
 squeezed out his eyes at such a rate, as one could see 30 
 nothing but the white. What little was left of the main 
 substance of the coat, he rubbed every day for two hours 
 against a rough-cast wall, in order to grind away the rem- 
 nants of lace and embroidery ; but at the same time went 
 
l88 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 on with so much violence, that he proceeded a Heathen 
 philosopher. Yet, after all he could do of this kind, the 
 success continued still to disappoint his expectation. For, 
 as it is the nature of rags to bear a kind of mock resem- 
 5 blance to finery, there being a sort of fluttering appearance 
 in both, which is not to be distinguished at a distance, in: 
 the dark, or by short-sighted eyes ; so, in those junctures, 1 
 it fared with Jack and his tatters, that they offered to the 
 first view a ridiculous flaunting ; which, assisting the re- 
 io semblance in person and air, thwarted all his projects of 
 separation, and left so near a similitude between them, 
 as frequently deceived the very disciples and followers of 
 both. 
 
 # * * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 1= * * * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 Desunt non- * 
 
 * 
 
 *- 
 
 nulla. * * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 20 The old Sclavonian proverb said well, that it is with 
 men as with asses; whoever would keep them fast, must 
 find a very good hold at their ears. Yet I think we may 
 affirm, that it hath been verified by repeated experience, 
 that, 
 
 25 Effugiet tamen haec sceleratus vincula Proteus. 
 
 It is good, therefore, to read the maxims of our ancestors, 
 with great allowances to times and persons : for, if we look 
 into primitive records, we shall find, that no revolutions 
 have been so great, or so frequent, as those of human ears. 
 30 In former days, there was a curious invention to catch and 
 keep them ; which, I think, we may justly reckon among 
 the artes perdita ; and how can it be otherwise, when, in 
 these latter centuries, the very species is not only diminished 
 to a very lamentable degree, but the poor remainder is also 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. ' 189 
 
 degenerated so far as to mock our skilfullest tenure ? For, 
 if the only slitting of one ear in a stag hath been found suffi- 
 cient to propagate the defect through a whole forest, why 
 should we wonder at the greatest consequences, from so 
 many loppings and mutilations, to which the ears of our 5 
 fathers, and our own, have been of late so much exposed ? 
 Tis true, indeed, that while this island of ours was under 
 the dominion of grace, many endeavours were made to 
 improve the growth of ears once more among us; The 
 proportion of largeness was not only looked updn as an 10 
 ornament of the outward man, but as a type of grace in 
 the inward. 
 
 Such was the progress of the saints for advancing the size 
 of that member ; and it is thought the success would have 
 been every way answerable, if, in process of time, a cruel 15 
 king had not arose, who raised a bloody persecution 
 against all ears above a certain standard: upon which, 
 some were glad to hide their flourishing sprouts in a black 
 border, others crept wholly under a periwig; some were 
 slit, others cropped, and a great number sliced off to the 20 
 stumps. But of this more hereafter in my general history 
 of ears ; which I design very speedily to bestow upon the 
 public. 
 
 From this brief survey of the falling state of ears in the 
 last age, and the small care had to advance their ancient 25 
 growth in the present, it is manifest, how little reason we 
 can have to rely upon a hold so short, so weak, and so 
 slippery; and that whoever desires to catch mankind fast, 
 must have recourse to some other methods. Now, he that 
 will examine human nature with circumspection enough, 30 
 may discover several handles, whereof the six 1 senses afford 
 one a-piece, beside a great number that are screwed to the 
 passions, and some few rivetted to the intellect. Among 
 
 1 Including Scaliger's. 
 
190 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 these last, curiosity is one, and, of all others, affords the 
 firmest grasp : curiosity, that spur in the side, that bridle in 
 the mouth, that ring in the nose, of a lazy, an impatient, 
 and a grunting reader. By this handle it is, that an author 
 5 should seize upon his readers ; which as soon as he hath 
 once compassed, all resistance and struggling are in vain ; 
 and they become his prisoners as close as he pleases, till 
 weariness or dulness force him to let go his gripe. 
 
 And therefore, I, the author of this miraculous treatise, 
 
 10 having hitherto, beyond expectation, maintained, by the 
 aforesaid handle, a firm hold upon my gentle readers, it is 
 with great reluctance, that I am at length compelled to 
 remit my grasp; leaving them, in the perusal of what 
 remains, to that natural oscitancy inherent in the tribe. I 
 
 15 can only assure thee; courteous reader, for both our com- 
 forts, that my concern is altogether equal to thine, for my 
 unhappiness in losing, or mislaying among my papers, the 
 remaining part of these memoirs ; which consisted of acci- 
 dents, turns, and adventures, both new, agreeable, and 
 
 20 surprising ; and therefore calculated, in all due points, to 
 the delicate taste of this our noble age. But, alas ! with my 
 utmost endeavours, I have been able only to retain a few of 
 the heads. Under which, there was a full account, how 
 Peter got a protection out of the King's Bench ; and of a 
 
 25 reconcilement between Jack and him, upon a design they 
 had, in a certain rainy night, to trepan brother Martin into 
 a spunging-house, and there strip him to the skin. How 
 Martin, with much ado, shewed them both a fair pair of 
 heels. How a new warrant came out against Peter ; upon 
 
 30 which, how Jack left him in the lurch, stole his protection, 
 and made use of it himself. How Jack's tatters came into 
 fashion in court and city ; how he got upon a great horse, 
 and eat custard. But the particulars of all these, with 
 several others, which have now slid out of my memory, are 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 I 9 r 
 
 lost beyond all hopes of recovery. For which misfortune, 
 leaving my readers to condole with each other, as far as 
 they shall find it to agree with their several constitutions ; 
 but conjuring them by all the friendship that hath passed 
 between us, from the title-page to this, not to proceed so far 5 
 as to injure their healths for an accident past remedy ; I 
 now go on to the ceremonial part of an accomplished 
 writer, and therefore, by a courtly modern, least of all others 
 to be omitted. 
 
 The Conclusion. 10 
 
 Going too long, is a cause of abortion, as effectual, though 
 not so frequent, as going too short ; and holds true especially 
 in the labours of the brain. Well fare the heart of that 
 noble Jesuit 1 , who first adventured to confess in print, that 
 books must be suited to their several seasons, like dress, 15 
 and diet, and diversions ; and better fare our noble nation, 
 for refining upon this among other French modes. I am 
 living fast to see the time, when a book that misses its tide, 
 shall be neglected, as the moon by day, or like mackerel a 
 week after the season. No man hath more nicely observed 20 
 our climate, than the bookseller who bought the copy of 
 this work; he knows to a tittle what subjects will best go off 
 in a dry year, and which it is proper to expose foremost, 
 when the weather-glass is fallen to much rain. When he 
 had seen this treatise, and consulted his almanac upon it, 25 
 he gave me to understand, that he had manifestly considered 
 the two principal things, which were, the bulk and the 
 subject; and found it would never take but after a long 
 vacation, and then only in case it should happen to be a 
 hard year for turnips. Upon which I desired to know, 30 
 considering my urgent necessities, what he thought might 
 be acceptable this month. He looked westward, and said, 
 1 Pere d'Orleans. 
 
192 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 I doubt we shall have a fit of bad weather ; however, if yon 
 could prepare some pretty little banter, (but not in verse), 
 
 or a small treatise upon the , it would run like wildfire. 
 
 But, if it hold up, I have already hired an author to write 
 5 something against Dr. Bentley, which, I am sure, will turn 
 to account. 
 
 At length we agreed upon this expedient ; that, when a 
 customer comes for one of these, and desires in confidence 
 to know the author, he will tell him very privately, as a 
 
 10 friend, naming whichever of the wits shall happen to be that 
 week in the vogue; and if Durfey's last play should be 
 in course, I had as lieve he may be the person as Congreve. 
 This I mention, because I am wonderfully well acquainted 
 with the present relish of courteous readers ; and have often 
 
 15 observed, with singular pleasure, that a fly, driven from a 
 honey-pot, will immediately, with very good appetite, alight, 
 and finish his meal on ordure. 
 
 I have one word to say upon the subject of profound writers, 
 who are grown very numerous of late ; and I know very well, 
 
 20 the judicious world is resolved to list me in that number. 
 I conceive therefore, as to the business of being profound, 
 that it is with writers as with wells ; a person with good 
 eyes may see to the bottom of the deepest, provided any 
 water be there ; and that often, when there is nothing ,in ; the 
 
 25 world at the bottom, besides dryness and dirt, though it be 
 but a yard and a half under ground, it shall pass, however, 
 for wondrous deep, upon no wiser a reason, than because it 
 is wondrous dark. 
 
 I am now trying an experiment very frequent among 
 
 30 modern authors ; which is to write upon nothing ; when the 
 subject is utterly exhausted, to let the pen still move on; 
 by some called the ghost of wit, delighting to walk after the 
 death of its body. And to say the truth, there seems to be 
 no part of knowledge in fewer hands, than that of discerning 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 93 
 
 when to have done. By the time that an author has 
 writ out a book, he and his readers are become old 
 acquaintance, and grow very loth to part ; so that I have 
 sometimes known it to be in writing, as in visiting, where 
 the ceremony of taking leave has employed more time than 5 
 the whole conversation before. The conclusion of a treatise 
 resembles the conclusion of human life, which hath some- 
 times been compared to the end of a feast ; where few are 
 satisfied to depart, ut plenus vitce conviva : for men will sit 
 down after the fullest meal, though it be only to doze, or to 10 
 sleep out the rest of the day. But, in this latter, I differ 
 extremely from other writers ; and shall be too proud, if, by 
 all my labours, I can have anyways contributed to the repose 
 of mankind, in times so turbulent and unquiet as these. 
 Neither do I think such an employment so very alien from 15 
 the office of a wit as some would suppose. For, among a 
 very polite nation in Greece l , there were the same temples 
 built and consecrated, to Sleep and the Muses; between 
 which two deities they believed the strictest friendship was 
 established. 2° 
 
 I have one concluding favour to request of my reader ; 
 that he will not expect to be equally diverted and informed 
 by every line or every page of this discourse ; but give some 
 allowance to the author's spleen, and short fits or intervals 
 of dulness, as well as his own ; and lay it seriously to his 25 
 conscience, whether, if he were walking the streets in dirty 
 weather, or a rainy day, he would allow it fair dealing, in 
 folks at their ease from a window to critick his gait, and 
 ridicule his dress at such a juncture. 
 
 In my disposure of employments of the brain, I have 30 
 thought fit to make invention the master, and to give 
 method and reason the office of its lackeys. The cause of 
 this distribution was, from observing it my peculiar case, to 
 
 1 The Troezenii, Pausan. lib. ii. 
 VOL. I. O 
 
194 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 be often under a temptation of being witty upon occasion, 
 where I could be neither wise, nor sound, nor anything to 
 the matter in hand. And I am too much a servant of the 
 modern way, to neglect any such opportunities, whatever 
 5 pains or improprieties I may be at, to introduce them. For 
 I have observed, that, from a laborious collection of seven 
 hundred and thirty-eight flowers, and shining hints of the 
 best modern authors, digested with great reading into my 
 book of commonplaces, I have not been able, after five 
 
 10 years, to draw, hook, or force, into common conversation, 
 any more than a dozen. Of which dozen, the one moiety 
 failed of success, by being dropped among unsuitable com- 
 pany ; and the other cost me so many strains, and traps, 
 and ambages to introduce, that I at length resolved to give 
 
 15 it over. Now, this disappointment, (to discover a secret,) 
 I must own, gave me the first hint of setting up for an author; 
 and I have since found, among some particular friends, that 
 it is become a very general complaint, and has produced the 
 same effects upon many others. For I have remarked 
 
 20 many a towardly word to be wholly neglected or despised 
 in discourse, which hath passed very smoothly, with some 
 consideration and esteem, after its preferment and sanction 
 in print. But now, since, by the liberty and encouragement 
 of the press, I am grown absolute master of the occasions 
 
 25 and opportunities to expose the talents I have acquired, I 
 already discover, that the issues of my observanda begin to 
 grow too large for the receipts. Therefore, I shall here 
 pause a while, till I find, by feeling the world's pulse and 
 my own, that it will be of absolute necessity for us both, 
 to resume my pen. 
 
^ 
 
 a/ 
 III. 
 
 A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE 
 FOUGHT LAST FRIDAY BETWEEN THE 
 
 ANCIENT AND THE MODERN BOOKS 
 
 IN ST. JAMES'S LIBRARY. 
 London, 1704. 
 
 This, perhaps the earliest of Swift's satirical works, was written in 
 great part, if not entirely, about 1697, and it may then have been 
 passed from hand to hand amongst the circle of Moor Park ; but it 
 was not published until 1704, when it appeared in the same volume 
 with the Tale of « Tub. It would be waste of labour to attempt to 
 assign the Tale of a Tub to any special phase of contemporary 
 controversy ; but the Battle of the Books forms an episode in a very 
 definite literary conflict of the day, and the circumstances which led 
 Swift to interfere in that conflict may be distinctly traced. 
 
 Amongst other results of the triumphant complacency of the 
 France of Louis XIV, was a claim advanced on her behalf that the 
 achievements of that country and that age transcended all that 
 humanity had yet imagined. The praise that had hitherto been 
 given to the great names of antiquity was, according to this theory, 
 only the effect of the glamour that surrounded, them, and had no solid 
 foundation. The first to advance this paradox was Fontenelle : and 
 it was repeated in Perrault's Steele de Louis le Grand, a poem read 
 before the Academy in 1687. But even in France, and even amongst 
 those whom its supporters had attempted to please by their flattery, 
 the theory met with little acceptance. Boileau laughed the claim to 
 scorn : and the taste of France in the age of the Grand Monarch was 
 
 O 2 
 
196 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 sufficiently superior to her vanity, to render her intolerant of such 
 criticism. 
 
 The topic had already been discussed for some time in France 
 when Swift's patron, Sir William Temple, introduced it to England 
 in a treatise upholding the superiority of Ancient to Modem Learning. 
 The Essay was not a critical one, nor did it aim at a careful treatment of 
 the subject. It was rather a collection, half-playful and half-serious, of 
 reflections on literary genius, couched in a graceful literary style. The 
 illustrations, drawn indiscriminately from classical legend and literature, 
 are not put forward as having any real historical basis : and Macaulay's 
 ridicule of their flimsiness is therefore misplaced. A reply to this 
 treatise was written by William Wotton, a youthful prodigy of 
 scholarship belonging to Catherine Hall at Cambridge, whose 
 classical references are as much more accurate than Temple's, as in 
 humour and style he is inferior. One opinion which Temple had 
 hazarded, in favour of the genuineness of the so-called Epistles of 
 Phalaris, formed a subject of easy attack; and on the other hand, the 
 brilliant, but superficial, scholars of Chris't Church, Oxford, took up 
 the cudgels on his behalf, and published, under the name of Charles 
 Boyle, afterwards Earl of Orrery, a new edition of the Epistles. 
 Boyle did not, indeed, as Macaulay wrongly represents, maintain the 
 genuineness of the Epistles. He expressly refrains from doing so, 
 and indeed points out the arguments that tell the other way. But he 
 came into collision with another opponent of the Christ Church 
 clique, of stronger calibre than Wotton. For the purposes of his 
 edition he had borrowed from the Royal Library at St. James's a 
 manuscript of the spurious Letters : and the sudden withdrawal of the 
 manuscript, before its collation was complete, by Dr. Bentley, the 
 librarian, led Boyle to comment in his preface on Beptley's churlish 
 act, as one in keeping with his usual manners — pro setutohimianitatr 
 sua. Stung by the attack, Bentley added an appendix to a new 
 edition of Wotton's Reflections, in which he ridiculed the flimsy 
 scholarship of the Oxford faction, and proved by overwhelming argu- 
 ments the absolute spuriousness of the Letters. Bentley showed that 
 the opposite contention was so obviously absurd, and so entirely 
 inconsistent with the known facts of antiquity, that even a passing 
 doubt on the subject convicted any man of ignorance. If the Epistles 
 were true, Phalaris had borrowed money from men who lived 300 
 years after his death, had destroyed towns that were not founded, 
 and conquered nations that had no names ; had falsified the histories , 
 of Herodotus and Thucydides, and had written in a dialect which he 
 could not possibly have understood. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 197 
 
 At this stage in the dispute, Swift stepped into the arena to assist 
 in his patron's defence, and contributed the sole work connected 
 with the controversy which has obtained immortality. Argument 
 and scholarship were not required, and in them Swift would have 
 been no match for Bentley. It is curious, indeed, that Swift's 
 allegory assumes, what Boyle had not affirmed, the genuineness of 
 the Letters. But he had a weapon of sarcastic humour which 
 Bentley was powerless to wield, and before which Bentley's eru- 
 dition grew pale. Swift, it need not be said, espoused the cause of 
 the Ancients, and he did so, not only because his patron had 
 appeared for that side, but also because the whole tendency of his 
 own taste lay in that direction. Wotton attempted to reply. He 
 accused Swift of plagiarism, and claimed to have been informed that 
 the Battle of the Books was taken from ' a French book, entitled 
 Combat des Livres.' Johnson repeated the same charge; Scott even 
 adduced Courtray as the author of this hypothetical Combat; and 
 Mr. Forster, claiming to have a copy of the book, which was unique, 
 accepts the author's name from Scott. As a fact the book appears in 
 the British Museum : it i^ without an author's name ; but it was 
 written by Francois de Callieres, a well-known Academician and 
 diplomatist : and its contents amply prove that, though the book 
 might, and probably did, pass through Swift's hands, and perhaps 
 suggested certain incidents in his own narrative, it yet possesses no 
 claim whatever to have been the basis of the main structure of his 
 satire. Swift's part in the controversy may have been at first 
 determined by the attitude of his patron ; but it was also consistent 
 with the whole bent of his taste and opinions. The Battle of the 
 Books marks the period when his genius began to find its fitting 
 employment, and when, discarding ' Pindarics,' he turned to satire, 
 and learned the power which belonged to him by right of that 
 faculty of sarcastic humour in which he stands unsurpassed. 
 
 The Bookseller to the Reader. 
 
 v N The following Discourse, as it is unquestionably of the 
 saritexauthor, so it seems to have been written about the 
 same time with the former; I mean the year 1697, when 
 the famous dispute was on foot about ancient and modern 5 
 learning!. The controversy took its rise from an essay of 
 Sir William Temple's upon that subject, which was 
 
igii SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 answered by W. Wotton, B.D., with an Appendix by Dr. 
 Bentley, endeavouring to destroy the credit of ^Esop and 
 Phalaris for authors, whom Sir William Temple had, in the 
 essay before mentioned, highly commended. In that ap- 
 5 pendix, the doctor falls hard upon a new edition of Phalaris, 
 put out by the Honourable Charles Boyle, now Earl of 
 Orrery, to which Mr. Boyle replied at large, with great 
 learning and wit; and the doctor voluminously rejoined. 
 In this dispute, the town highly resented to see a person of 
 
 10 Sir William Temple's character and merits roughly used by 
 the two reverend gentlemen aforesaid, and without any 
 manner of provocation. At length, there appearing no end 
 of the quarrel, our author tells us, that the books in St. 
 James's Library, looking upon themselves as parties prin- 
 
 15 cipally concerned, took up the controversy,' and came to a 
 decisive battle ; but the manuscript, by the injury of fortune 
 or weather, being in several places imperfect, we cannot 
 learn to which side the victory fell. 
 
 I must warn the reader to beware of applying to persons 
 
 20 what is here meant only of books, in the most literal sense. 
 So, when Virgil is mentioned, we are not to understand the 
 person of a famous poet called by that name; but only 
 certain sheets of paper, bound up in leather, containing in 
 print the works of the said poet : and so of the rest. 
 
 25 The Preface of the Author. 
 
 Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally 
 discover everybody's face but their own ; which is the chief 
 reason for that kind reception it meets in the world, and 
 that so very few are offended with it. But, if it should 
 30 happen otherwise, the danger is not great ; and I have 
 learned, from long experience, never to apprehend. mischief 
 from those understandings I have been able to provoke : for 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 199 
 
 anger and fury, though they add strength to the sinews of 
 the body, yet are found to relax those of the mind, and to 
 render all its efforts feeble and impotent. 
 
 There is a brain that will endure but one scumming ; let 
 the owner gather it with discretion, and manage his little 5 
 stock with husbandry; but, of all things, let him beware of 
 bringing it under the lash of his betters, because that will 
 make it all bubble up into impertinence, and he will find 
 no new supply. Wit, without knowledge, being a sort of 
 cream, which gathers in a night to the top, and, by a skilful 10 
 hand, may be soon whipped into froth ; but, once scummed 
 away, what appears underneath will be fit for nothing but 
 to be thrown to the hogs. 
 
 A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT, &c. 
 
 Whoever examines, with due circumspection, into the 15 
 Annual Records of Time, will find it remarked, that war is 
 the child of pride, and pride the daughter of riches : — the 
 former of which assertions may be soon granted, but one 
 cannot so easily subscribe to the latter ; for pride is nearly 
 related to beggary and want, either by father or mother, and 20 
 sometimes by both : and to speak naturally, it very seldom 
 happens among men to fall out when all have enough ; in- 
 vasions usually travelling from north to south, that is to say, 
 from poverty upon plenty. The most ancient and natural 
 grounds of quarrels, are lust and avarice; which, though we 25 
 may allow to be brethren, or collateral branches of pride, are 
 certainly the issues of want. For, to speak in the phrase 
 of writers upon the politics, we may observe in the republic 
 of dogs, which, in its original, seems to be an institution of 
 the many, that the whole state is ever in the profoundest 30 
 
200 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 peace after a full meal; and that civil broils arise among 
 them when it happens for one great bone to be seized 
 on by some leading dog, who either divides it among the 
 few, and then it falls to an oligarchy, or keeps it to himself, 
 5 and then it runs up to a tyranny. The same reasoning also 
 holds place among them in those dissensions we behold in 
 regard to any of their females. For the right of possession 
 lying in common, (it being impossible to establish a 
 property in so delicate a case,) jealousies and suspicions do 
 
 10 so abound, that the whole commonwealth of that street is 
 reduced to a manifest state of war, of every citizen against 
 every citizen, till some one, of more courage, conduct, or 
 fortune than the rest, seizes and enjoys the prize; upon 
 which naturally arises plenty of heart-burning, and envy, 
 
 15 and snarling against the happy dog. Again, if we look 
 upon any of these republics engaged in a foreign war, either 
 of invasion or defence, we shall find the same reasoning 
 will serve as to the grounds and occasions of each; and 
 that poverty or want, in some degree or other, (whether 
 
 20 real or in opinion, which makes no alteration in the case,) 
 hath a great share, as well as pride, on the part of the 
 aggressor. 
 
 Now, whoever will please to take this scheme, and either 
 reduce or adapt it to an intellectual state, or commonwealth 
 
 25 of learning, will soon discover the first ground of dis- 
 agreement between the two great parties at this time in 
 arms, and may form just conclusions upon the merits of 
 either cause. But the issue or events of this war are not so 
 easy to conjecture at ; for the present quarrel is so inflamed 
 
 30 by the warm heads of either faction, and the pretensions 
 somewhere or other so exorbitant, as not to admit the least 
 overtures of accommodation. This quarrel first began, as I 
 have heard it affirmed by an old dweller in the neighbour- 
 hood, about a small spot of ground, lying and being upon 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 201 
 
 one of the two tops of the hill Parnassus ; the highest and 
 largest of which had, it seems, been time out of mind in 
 quiet possession of certain tenants, called the Ancients ; 
 and the other was held by the Moderns. But these, dis- 
 liking their present station, sent certain ambassadors to the 5 
 ancients, complaining of a great nuisance ; how the height 
 of that part of Parnassus quite spoiled the prospect of theirs, 
 especially towards the east; and therefore, to avoid a war, 
 offered them the choice of this alternative, either that the 
 ancients would please to remove themselves and their effects io 
 down to the lower summity, which the moderns would gra- 
 ciously surrender to them, and advance in their place ; or 
 else the said ancients will give leave to the moderns to come 
 with shovels and mattocks, and level the said hill as low as 
 they shall think it convenient. To which the ancients made 15 
 answer, how little they expected such a message as this 
 from a colony, whom they had admitted, out of their own 
 free grace, to so near a neighbourhood. That, as to their 
 own seat, they were aborigines of it, and therefore, to talk 
 with them of a removal or surrender, was a language they 20 
 did not understand. That, if the height of the hill on 
 their side shortened the prospect of the moderns, it was a 
 disadvantage they could not help; but desired them to 
 consider, whether that injury (if it be any) were not largely 
 recompensed by the shade and shelter it afforded them. 25 
 That as to the levelling or digging down, it was either 
 folly or ignorance to propose it, if they did, or did not, 
 know, how that side of the hill was an entire rock, which 
 would break their tools and hearts, without any damage to 
 itself. • That they would therefore advise the moderns 30 
 rather to raise their own side of the hill, than dream of 
 pulling down that of the ancients : to the former of which 
 they would not only give licence, but also largely contribute. 
 All this was rejected by the moderns with much indignation, 
 
202 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 who still insisted upon one of the two expedients ; and so 
 this difference broke out into a long and obstinate war, 
 maintained on the one part by resolution, and by the 
 courage of certain leaders and allies ; but, on the other, by 
 5 the greatness of their number, upon all defeats affording 
 continual recruits. In this quarrel whole rivulets of ink 
 have been exhausted, and the virulence of both partiesenor- 
 mously augmented. Now, it must here be understood, that 
 ink is the great missive weapon in all battles of the learned, 
 
 io which, conveyed through a sort of engine called a quill, 
 infinite numbers of these are darted at the enemy, by the 
 valiant on each side, with equal, skill and violence, as if it 
 were an engagement of porcupines. This malignant liquor 
 was compounded, by the engineer who invented it, of two 
 
 15 ingredients, which are, gall and copperas; by its bitterness 
 and venom to suit, in some degree, as well as to foment, 
 the genius of the combatants. And as the Grecians, after 
 an engagement, when they could not agree about the 
 victory, were wont to set up trophies on both sides, the 
 
 20 beaten party being content to be at the same expense, to 
 keep itself in countenance ; (a laudable and ancient custom, 
 happily revived of late, in the art of war ;) so the learned, 
 after a sharp and bloody dispute, do, on both sides, hang 
 out their trophies too, whichever comes by the worst. 
 
 25 These trophies have largely inscribed on them the merits of 
 the cause; a full impartial account of such a battle, and 
 how the victory fell clearly to the party that set them up. 
 They are known to the world under several names: as, 
 disputes, arguments, rejoinders, brief considerations, answers, 
 
 3° replies, remarks, reflections, objections, confutations. For 
 a very few days they are fixed up in all public places, either 
 by themselves or their representatives \ for passengers to 
 
 1 Their title-pages. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 203 
 
 gaze at; whence the chiefest and largest are removed to 
 certain magazines they call libraries, there to remain in a 
 quarter purposely assigned them, and from thenceforth 
 begin to be called books of controversy. 
 
 In these books is wonderfully instilled 'and preserved the 5 
 spirit of each warrior, while he is alive ; and after his death, 
 his soul transmigrates there to inform them. This at least is 
 the more common opinion ; but I believe it is with libraries 
 as with other cemeteries ; where some philosophers affirm, 
 that a certain spirit, which they call brutum hominis, hovers 10 
 over the monument, till the body is corrupted, and turns to 
 dust, or to worms, but then vanishes or dissolves; so, we 
 may say, a restless spirit haunts over every book, till dust or 
 worms have seized upon it ; which to some may happen in 
 a few days, but to others later : and therefore books of con- 1 5 
 troversy being, of all others, haunted by the most disorderly 
 spirits, have always been confined in a separate lodge from 
 the rest; and, for fear of mutual violence against each 
 other, it was thought prudent by our ancestors to bind them 
 to the peace with strong iron chains. Of which invention 20 
 the original occasion was this : When the works of Scotus 
 first came out, they were carried to a certain library, and 
 had lodgings appointed them; but this author was no 
 sooner settled than he went to visit his master Aristotle ; 
 and there both concerted together to seize Plato by main 25 
 force, and turn him out from his ancient station among the 
 divines, where he had peaceably dwelt near eight hundred 
 years. The attempt succeeded, and the two usurpers have 
 reigned ever since in his stead : but, to maintain quiet for 
 the future, it was decreed, that all polemics of the larger size 30 
 should be held fast with a chain. 
 
 By this expedient, the public peace of libraries might 
 certainly have been preserved, if a new species of con- 
 troversial books had not arose of late years, instinct with 
 
204 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 a most malignant spirit, from the war above mentioned 
 between the learned, about the higher summity of Par- 
 nassus. 
 
 When these books were first admitted into the public 
 
 5 libraries, I remember to have said, upon occasion, to several 
 persons concerned, how I was sure they would create broils 
 wherever they came, unless a world of care were taken: 
 and therefore I advised, that the champions of each side 
 should be coupled together, or otherwise mixed, that, like the 
 
 10 blending of contrary poisons, their malignity might be 
 employed among themselves. And it seems I was neither 
 an ill prophet, nor an ill counsellor ; for it was nothing else 
 but the neglect of this caution which gave occasion to the 
 terrible fight that happened on Friday last, between the 
 
 15 ancient and modern books, in the king's library. Now, 
 because the talk of this battle is so fresh in everybody's 
 mouth, and the expectation of the town so great to be in- 
 formed in the particulars, I, being possessed of all qualifica- 
 tions requisite in an historian, and retained by neither 
 
 20 party, have resolved to comply with the urgent importunity 
 of my friends, by writing down a full impartial account 
 thereof. 
 
 The guardian of the regal library, a person of great valour, 
 but chiefly renowned for his humanity, had been a fierce 
 
 25 champion for the moderns ; and, in an engagement upon 
 Parnassus, had vowed, with his own hands, to knock down 
 two of the ancient chiefs, who guarded a small pass on the 
 superior rock ; but, endeavouring to climb up, was cruelly 
 obstructed by his- own unhappy weight, and tendency to- 
 
 3° wards his centre ; a quality to which those of the modern 
 party are extreme subject ; for, being light-headed, they have, 
 in speculation, a wonderful agility, and conceive nothing 
 too high for them to mount ; but, in reducing to practice, 
 discover a mighty pressure about their backs , and their 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 10$ 
 
 heels. Having thus failed in his design, the disappointed 
 champion bore a cruel rancour to the ancients ; which he 
 resolved to gratify, by shewing all marks of his favour to the 
 books of their adversaries, and lodging them in the fairest 
 apartments ; when, at the same time, whatever book had 5 
 the boldness to own itself for an advocate of the ancients, 
 was buried alive in some obscure corner, and threatened, 
 upon the least displeasure, to be turned out of doors. 
 Besides, it so happened, that about this time there was 
 a strange confusion of place among all the books in the 10 
 library; for which several reasons were assigned. Some 
 imputed it to a great heap of learned dust, which a perverse 
 wind blew off from a shelf of moderns, into the keeper's 
 eyes. Others affirmed, he had a humour to pick the worms 
 out of the schoolmen, and swallow them fresh and fasting; 15 
 whereof some fell upon his spleen, and some climbed up 
 into his head, to the great perturbation of both. And 
 lastly, others maintained, that, by walking much in the 
 dark about the library, he had quite lost the situation of 
 it out of his head ; and therefore, in replacing his books, he 20 
 was apt to mistake, and clap Des Cartes next to Aristotle ; 
 .poor Plato had got between Hobbes and the Seven Wise 
 Masters, and Virgil was hemmed in with Dryden on one 
 side, and Withers on the other. - 
 
 Meanwhile those books that were advocates for the 25 
 moderns, chose out one from among them to make a 
 progress through the whole library, examine the number 
 and strength of their party, and concert their affairs. This 
 messenger performed all things very industriously, and 
 brought back with him a list of their forces, in all fifty 3° 
 thousand, consisting chiefly of light-horse, heavy-armed 1 
 
 foot, and mercenaries : whereof the foot were in general *Tjp^ 
 but sorrily armed, and worse clad : . their horses large, but' ' * 
 extremely out of case and heart; however, some few, by ■ , , , 
 
206 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 trading among the ancients, had furnished themselves 
 tolerably enough. 
 
 While things were in this ferment, discord grew extremely 
 high; hot words passed on both sides, and ill blood was 
 S plentifully bred. Here a solitary ancient, squeezed up 
 among a whole shelf of moderns, offered fairly to dispute 
 the case, and to prove by manifest reasons, that the priority 
 was due to them, from long possession; and in regard of 
 their prudence, antiquity, and, above all, their great merits 
 
 10 toward the moderns. But these denied the premises, and 
 seemed very much to wonder, how the ancients could 
 pretend to insist upon their antiquity, when it was so plain, •■■ 
 (if they went to that,) that the moderns were much the 
 more ancient 1 of the two. As for any obligations they 
 
 15 owed to the ancients, they renounced them all. Tis true, 
 said they, we are informed, some few of our party have 
 been so mean to borrow their subsistence from you; but 
 the rest, infinitely the greater number, (and especially we 
 French and English,) were so far from stooping to so base 
 
 20 an example, that there never passed, till this very hour, 
 six words between us. For our horses are of our own 
 breeding, our arms of our own forging, and our clothes of 
 our own cutting out and sewing. Plato was by chance up 
 on the next shelf, and observing those that spoke to be in 
 
 25 the ragged plight mentioned a while ago ; their jades lean 
 and foundered, their weapons of rotten wood, their armour 
 rusty, and nothing but rags underneath; he laughed 
 
 loud, and in his pleasant way swore, by he believed 
 
 them. 
 
 3° Now, the moderns had not proceeded in their late negotia- 
 tion with secrecy enough to escape the notice of the enemy. 
 For those advocates, who had begun the quarrel, by setting 
 first on foot the dispute of precedency, talked so loud of 
 
 1 According to the modern paradox. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 207 
 
 coming to a battle, that Temple happened to overhear them, 
 and gave immediate intelligence to the ancients; who, there- 
 upon, drew up their scattered troops together, resolving to 
 act upon the defensive ; upon which, several of the moderns 
 fled over to their party, and among the rest Temple himself. 5 
 This Temple, having been educated and long conversed 
 among the ancients, was, of all the moderns, their greatest 
 favourite, and became their greatest champion. 
 
 Things were at this crisis, when a material accident fell 
 out. For, upon the highest corner of a large window, there 10 
 dwelt a certain spider, swollen up to the first magnitude by 
 the destruction of infinite numbers of flies, whose spoils lay 
 scattered before the gates of his palace, like human bones 
 before the cave of some giant. The avenues to his castle 
 were guarded with turnpikes and palisadoes, all after the 15 
 modern way of fortification. After you had passed several 
 courts, you came to the centre, wherein you might behold 
 the constable himself in his own lodgings, which had 
 windows fronting to each avenue, and ports to sally out, 
 upon all occasions of prey or defence. In this mansion he 20 
 had for some time dwelt in peace and plenty, without 
 danger to his person, by swallows from above, or to his 
 palace, by brooms from below : when it was the pleasure of 
 fortune to conduct thither a wandering bee, to whose 
 curiosity a broken pane in the glass had discovered itself, 25 
 and in he went; where, expatiating a while, he at last 
 happened to alight upon one of the outward walls of the 
 spider's citadel; which, yielding to the unequal weight, 
 sunk down to the very foundation. Thrice he endeavoured 
 to force his passage, and thrice the centre shook. The 30 
 spider within, feeling the terrible convulsion, supposed at 
 first that nature was approaching to her final dissolution ; 
 or else, that Beelzebub, with all his legions, was come to 
 revenge the death of many thousands of his subjects, whom 
 
Uo8 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 this enemy had slain and devoured. However, he at length 
 valiantly resolved to issue forth, and. meet his fate.. Mean- 
 while the bee had acquitted himself of his toils, and, posted 
 securely at some distance, was employed in cleansing his 
 5 wings, and disengaging them from the ragged remnants of 
 the cobweb. By this time the spider was adventured out, 
 when, beholding the chasms, the ruins, and dilapidations of 
 his fortress, he was very near at his wit's end ; he stormed 
 and swore like a madman, and swelled till he was ready'to 
 
 10 burst. At length, casting his eye upon the bee, and wisely 
 gathering causes from events, (for they knew each other by 
 sight), A plague split you, said he; is it you, with a 
 vengeance, that have made this litter here ? could not you 
 look before you, and be d — d? do you think I have 
 
 15 nothing else to do (in the devil's name) but to mend and 
 repair after you ? — Good words, friend, said the bee, (having 
 now pruned himself, and being disposed, to droll), I'll give 
 you my hand and word to come near your kennel no more ; 
 I was never in such a confounded pickle since I was born.— 
 
 20 Sirrah, replied the spider, if it were not for breaking an old 
 custom in our family, never to stir abroad against an enemy, 
 I should come and teach you better manners. — I pray have 
 patience, said the bee, or you will spend your substance, 
 and, for aught I see, you may stand in need of it all towards 
 
 25 the repair of your house. — Rogue, rogue, replied the spider, 
 yet, methinks you should have more respect to a person, 
 whom all the world allows to be so much your betters.— 
 By my troth, said the bee, the comparison will amount to 
 a very good jest ; and you will do me a favour to let me 
 
 30 know the reasons that all the world is pleased to use in so 
 hopeful a 1 dispute. At this the spider, having swelled him- 
 self into the size and posture of a disputant, began his 
 argument in the true spirit of controversy, with a resolution 
 to be heartily scurrilous and angry, to urge on his own 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 209 
 
 reasons, without the least regard to the answers or objec- 
 tions of his opposite ; and fully predetermined in his mind 
 against all conviction. 
 
 Not to disparage myself, said he, by the comparison with 
 such a rascal, what art thou but a vagabond without house 5 
 or home, without stock or inheritance, born to no posses- 
 sion of your own, but a pair of wings and a drone-pipe ? Your 
 livelihood is an universal plunder upon nature ; a freebooter 
 over fields and gardens ; and, for the sake of stealing, will 
 rob a nettle as readily as a violet. Whereas I am a domestic 10 
 animal, furnished with a native stock within myself. This 
 large castle (to shew my improvements in the mathematics) 
 is all built with my own hands, and the materials extracted 
 altogether out of mine own person. 
 
 I am glad, answered the bee, to hear you grant at least 15 
 that I am come honestly by my wings and my voice ; for 
 then, it seems, I am obliged to Heaven alone for my flights 
 and my music ; and Providence would never have bestowed 
 on me two such gifts, without designing them for the noblest 
 ends. I visit indeed all the flowers and blossoms of the field 20 
 and the garden ; but whatever I collect from thence, enriches 
 myself, without the least injury to their beauty, their smell, 
 or their taste. Now, for you and your skill in architecture, 
 and other mathematics, I have little to say : in that building 
 of yours there might, for aught I know, have been labour 25 
 and method enough ; but, by woful experience for us both, 
 'tis too plain, the materials are naught ; and I hope you will 
 henceforth take warning, and consider duration and matter, 
 as well as method and art. You boast, indeed, of being 
 obliged to no other creature, but of drawing and spinning 30 
 out all from yourself; that is to say, if we may judge of the 
 liquor in the vessel, by what issues out, you possess a good 
 plentiful store of dirt and poison in your breast ; and, though 
 I would by no means lessen or disparage your genuine stock 
 
 vol. 1. p 
 
2IO SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 of either, yet, I doubt you are somewhat obliged, for an in- 
 crease of both, to a little foreign assistance. Your inherent 
 portion of dirt does not fail of acquisitions, by sweepings 
 exhaled from below; and one insect furnishes you with 
 5 a share of poison to destroy another. So that, in short, the 
 question comes all to this ; whether is the nobler being of 
 the two, that which, by a lazy contemplation of four inches 
 round, by an overweening pride, which, feeding and engen- 
 dering on itself, turns all into venom, producing nothing at 
 
 10 all, but flybane and a cobweb ; or that which, by an universal 
 range, with long search, much study, true judgment, and 
 distinction of things, brings home honey and wax ? 
 
 This dispute was managed with such eagerness, clamour, 
 and warmth, that the two parties of books, in arms below, 
 
 15 stood silent a while, waiting in suspense what would be the 
 issue; which was not long undetermined: for the bee, 
 grown impatient at so much loss of time, fled straight away 
 to a bed of roses, without looking for a reply ; and left the 
 spider, like an orator, collected in himself, and just prepared 
 
 20 to burst out. 
 
 It happened upon this emergency, that ^Esop broke 
 silence first. He had been of late most barbarously 
 treated by a strange effect of the regent's humanity, who 
 had tore off his title-page, sorely defaced one half of his 
 
 25 leaves, and chained him fast among a shelf of moderns. 
 Where, soon discovering how high the quarrel was likely to 
 proceed, he tried all his arts, and turned himself to a thou- 
 sand forms. At length, in the borrowed shape of an ass, 
 the regent mistook him for a modern ; by which means he 
 
 30 had time and opportunity to escape to the ancients, just 
 when the spider and the bee were entering into their 
 contest; to which he gave his attention with a world of 
 pleasure ; and when it was ended, swore in the loudest key, 
 that in all his life he had never known two cases so parallel 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 211 
 
 and adapt to each other, as that in the window, and this 
 upon the shelves. The disputants, said he, have admirably 
 managed the dispute between them, have taken in the full 
 strength of all that is to be said on both sides, and exhausted 
 the substance of every argument pro and con. It is but to 5 
 adjust the reasonings of both to the present quarrel, then to 
 compare and apply the labours and fruits of each, as the 
 bee hath learnedly deduced them, and we shall find the 
 conclusion fall plain and close upon the moderns and us. 
 For, pray, gentlemen, was ever anything so modern as the 10 
 spider in his air, his turns, and his paradoxes ? He argues 
 in the behalf of you his brethren, and himself, with many 
 boastings of his native stock and great genius ; that he spins 
 and spits wholly from himself, and scorns to own any obli- 
 gation or assistance from without. Then he displays to 15 
 you his great skill in architecture, and improvement in the 
 mathematics. To all this the bee, as an advocate, retained 
 by us the ancients, thinks fit to answer ; that, if one may 
 judge of the great genius or inventions of the moderns- 
 by what they have produced, you will hardly have coun- 20 
 tenance to bear you out, in boasting of either. Erect your 
 schemes with as much method and skill as you please; yet if 
 the materials be nothing but dirt, spun out of your own entrails 
 (the guts of modern brains) the edifice will conclude at last 
 in a cobweb ; the duration of which, like that of other 25 
 spiders' webs, may be imputed to their being forgotten, or 
 neglected, or hid in a corner. For anything else of genuine 
 that the moderns may pretend to, I cannot recollect ; unless 
 it be a large vein of wrangling and satire, much of a nature 
 and substance with the spider's poison ; which, however 30 
 they pretend to spit wholly out of themselves, is improved 
 by the same arts, by feeding upon the insects and vermin of 
 the age. As for us the ancients, we are content, with the 
 bee, to pretend to nothing of our own, beyond our wings 
 
 p 2 
 
aia SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 and our voice : that is to say, our flights and our language. 
 For the rest, whatever we have got, hath been by infinite 
 labour and search, and ranging through every corner of 
 nature ; the difference is, that, instead of dirt and poison, 
 
 5 we have rather chose to fill our hives with honey and wax; 
 thus furnishing mankind with the two noblest of things, 
 which are sweetness and light. 
 
 It is wonderful to conceive the tumult arisen among the 
 books, upon the close of this long descant of ^Esop : both 
 
 io parties took the hint, and heightened their animosities so on 
 a sudden, that they resolved it should come to a battle. Im- 
 mediately the two main bodies withdrew, under their several 
 ensigns, to the farthest parts of the library, and there entered 
 into cabals and consults upon the present emergency. The 
 
 15 moderns were in very warm debates upon the choice of 
 their leaders; and nothing less than the fear impending 
 from their enemies, could have kept them from mutinies 
 upon this occasion. The difference was greatest among 
 the horse, where every private trooper pretended to the 
 
 ?o chief command, from Tasso and Milton, to Dryden and 
 Withers. The light-horse were commanded by Cowley 
 and Despreaux. There came the bowmen under their 
 valiant leaders, Des Cartes, Gassendi, and Hobbes ; whose 
 strength was such, that they could shoot their arrows 
 
 2g behind the atmosphere, never to fall down again, but 
 turn, like that of Evander, into meteors; or, like the 
 cannon-ball, into stars. Paracelsus brought a squadron of 
 stink-pot-fiingers from the snowy mountains of Rhsetia. 
 There came a vast body of dragoons, of different nations, 
 
 30 under the leading of Harvey, their great aga : part armed 
 with scythes, the weapons of death/; part with lances and 
 long knives, all steeped in poison; part shot bullets of 
 a most malignant nature, and used white powder, which 
 infallibly killed without report. There came several bodies 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 213 
 
 of heavy-armed foot, all mercenaries, under the ensigns of 
 Guicciardini, Davila, Polydore Virgil, Buchanan, Mariana, 
 Cambden, and others. The engineers were commanded by 
 Regiomontanus and Wilkins. The rest were a confused 
 multitude, led by Scotus, Aquinas, and Bellarmine; of 5 
 mighty bulk and stature, but without either arms, courage, 
 or discipline. In the last place, came infinite swarms of 
 calones, a disorderly rout led by L'Estrange; rogues and 
 ragamuffins, that follow the camp for nothing but the 
 plunder, all without coats to cover them. 10 
 
 The army of the ancients was much fewer in number; 
 Homer led the horse, and Pindar the light-horse; Euclid 
 was chief engineer; Plato and Aristotle commanded the 
 bowmen ; Herodotus and Livy the foot ; Hippocrates the 
 dragoons ; the allies, led by Vossius and Temple, brought 15 
 up the rear. 
 
 All things violently tending to a decisive battle, Fame, 
 who much frequented, and had a large apartment formerly 
 assigned her in the regal library, fled up straight to Jupiter, 
 to whom she delivered a faithful account of all that 20 
 passed between the two parties below ; (for, among the gods, 
 she always tells truth). Jove, in great concern, convokes a 
 council in the milky way. The senate assembled, he declares 
 the occasion of convening them ; a bloody battle just im- 
 pendent between two mighty armies of ancient and modern 25 
 creatures, called books, wherein the celestial interest was 
 but too deeply concerned. Momus, the patron of the 
 moderns, made an excellent speech in their favour, which 
 was answered by Pallas, the protectress of the ancients. 
 The assembly was divided in their affections ; when Jupiter 30 
 commanded the book of fate to be laid before him. Im- 
 mediately were brought by Mercury three large volumes in 
 folio, containing memoirs of all things past, present, and to 
 come. The clasps were of silver double gilt ; the covers of 
 
214 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 celestial turkey leather ; and the paper such as here on earth 
 might almost pass for vellum. Jupiter, having silently read 
 the decree, would communicate the import to none, but 
 presently shut up the book. 
 ft, Without the doors of this assembly, there attended a vast 
 number of light, nimble gods, menial servants to Jupiter: 
 these are his ministering instruments in all affairs below. 
 They travel in a caravan, more or less together, and are 
 fastened to each other, like a link of galley-slaves, by a light 
 
 io chain, which passes from them to Jupiter's great toe : and 
 yet, in receiving or delivering a message, they may never 
 approach above the lowest step of his throne, where he and 
 they whisper to each other, through a long hollow trunk. 
 These deities are called by mortal men accidents or events ; 
 
 15 but the gods call them second causes. Jupiter having 
 delivered his message to a certain number of these divinities, 
 they flew immediately down to the pinnacle of the regal 
 library, and, consulting a few minutes, entered unseen, and 
 disposed the parties according to their orders. 
 
 20 Meanwhile, Momus, fearing the worst, and calling to 
 mind an ancient prophecy, which bore no very good face to 
 his children the moderns, bent his flight to the region of 
 a malignant deity, called Criticism. She dwelt on the top 
 of a snowy mountain in Nova Zembla ; there Momus found 
 
 25 her extended in her den, upon the spoils of numberless 
 volumes, half devoured. At her right hand sat Ignorance, 
 her father and husband, blind with age ; at her left, Pride, 
 her mother, dressing her up in the scraps of paper herself 
 had torn. There was Opinion, her sister, light of foot, hood- 
 
 30 winked, and headstrong, yet giddy, and perpetually turning. 
 About her played her children, Noise and Impudence, 
 Dulness and Vanity, Positiveness, Pedantry, and Ill-manners. 
 The goddess herself had claws like a cat; her head, and 
 ears, and voice, resembled those of an ass : her teeth fallen 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 2r5 
 
 out before, her eyes turned inward, as if she looked only 
 upon herself; her diet was the overflowing of her own gall ; 
 her spleen was so large, as to stand prominent; nor did 
 she want teats, at which a crew of ugly monsters were 
 greedily sucking ; and, what is wonderful to conceive, the 5 
 bulk of spleen increased faster than the sucking could 
 diminish it. Goddess, said Momus, can you sit idly here 
 while our devout worshippers, the moderns, are this minute 
 entering into a cruel battle, and perhaps now lying under 
 the swords of their enemies ? who then hereafter will ever 10 
 sacrifice, or build altars to our divinities ? Haste, therefore, 
 to the British isle, and, if possible, prevent their destruction ; 
 while I make factions among the gods, and gain them over 
 to our party. 
 
 Momus, having thus delivered himself, staid not for an 15 
 answer, but left the goddess to her own resentments. Up 
 she rose in a rage, and, as it is the form upon such occasions, 
 began a soliloquy : Tis I, (said she,) who give wisdom 
 to infants and idiots ; by me, children grow wiser than their 
 parents ; by me, beaux become politicians, and school-boys 20 
 judges of philosophy ; by me, sophisters debate, and conclude 
 upon the depths of knowledge ; and coffee-house wits, instinct 
 by me, can correct an author's style, and display his minutest 
 errors, without understanding a syllable of his matter, or his 
 language. By me, striplings spend their judgment, as they 25 
 do their estate, before it comes into their hands. 'Tis I 
 who have deposed wit and knowledge from their empire 
 over poetry, and advanced myself in their stead. And shall 
 a few upstart ancients dare to oppose- me ? — But come, my 
 aged parents, and you, my children dear, and thou, my 30 
 beauteous sister; let us ascend my chariot, and haste to 
 assist our devout moderns, who are now sacrificing to us a 
 hecatomb, as I perceive by that grateful smell, which from 
 thence reaches my nostrils. 
 
21 6 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 The goddess and her train having mounted the chariot, 
 which was drawn by tame geese, flew over infinite regions, 
 shedding her influence in due places, till at length she 
 arrived at her beloved island of Britain; but, in hovering 
 
 5 over its metropolis, what blessings did she not let fall upon 
 her seminaries of Gresham and Covent Garden ! And now 
 she reached the fatal plain of St. James's library, at what 
 time the two armies were upon the point to engage ; where, 
 entering with all her caravan unseen, and landing upon a 
 
 io case of shelves, now desert, but once inhabited by a colony 
 of virtuosos, she staid awhile to observe the posture of both 
 armies. 
 
 But here the tender cares of a mother began to fill her 
 thoughts, and move in her breast : for, at the head of a troop 
 
 1 5 of modern bowmen, she cast her eyes upon her son Wotton ; 
 to whom the fates had assigned a very short thread. Wotton, 
 a young hero, whom an unknown father of mortal race begot . 
 by stolen embraces with this goddess. He was the darling 
 of his mother above all her children, and she resolved to go 
 
 20 and comfort him. But first, according to the good old 
 custom of deities, she cast about to change her shape, for 
 fear the divinity of her countenance might dazzle his mortal 
 sight, and overcharge the rest of his senses. She therefore 
 gathered up her person into an octavo compass : her body 
 
 25 grew white and arid, and split in pieces with dryness; the 
 thick turned into pasteboard, and the thin into paper ; upon 
 which her parents arid children artfully strowed a black juice, 
 or decoction of gall and soot, in form of letters : her head, 
 and voice, and spleen, kept their primitive form : and that 
 
 30 which before was a cover of skin, did still continue so. In 
 which guise, she marched on towards the moderns, undistin- 
 guishable in shape and dress from the divine Bentley, 
 Wotton's dearest friend. Brave Wotton, said the goddess, 
 why do our troops stand idle here, to spend their present 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 21 7 
 
 vigour, and opportunity of the day ? Away, let us haste to 
 the generals, and advise to give the onset immediately. 
 Having spoke thus, she took the ugliest of her monsters, full 
 glutted from her spleen, and flung it invisibly into his mouth, 
 which, flying straight up into his head, squeezed out his eye- 5 
 balls, gave him a distorted look, and half overturned his 
 brain. Then she privately ordered two of her beloved chil- 
 dren, Dulness and Ill-Manners, closely to attend his person 
 in all encounters. Having thus accoutred him, she vanished 
 in a mist, and the hero perceived it was the goddess his 10 
 mother. 
 
 The destined hour of fate being now arrived, the fight 
 began ; whereof, before I dare adventure to make a particular 
 description, I must, after the example of other authors, 
 petition for a hundred tongues, and mouths, and hands, and 15 
 pens, which would all be too little to perform so immense a 
 work. Say, goddess, that presidest over history, who it was 
 that first advanced in the field of battle ! Paracelsus, at the 
 head of his dragoons, observing Galen in the adverse wing, 
 darted his javelin with a mighty force, which the brave 20 
 ancient received upon his shield, the point breaking in the 
 second fold. ******** 
 
 ******** Hie pauca 
 * * * * * * * * desunt. 
 
 They bore the wounded aga on their shields to his chariot 
 
 Desunt ******** 
 nonnulla. ******** 
 ****** * * * * 
 
 25 
 
 3° 
 
 Then Aristotle, observing Bacon advance with a furious 
 mien, drew his bow to the head, and let fly his arrow, 
 which missed the valiant modern, and went hizzing over 
 his head ; but Des Cartes it hit ; the steel point quickly 
 
2l8 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 found a defect in his head-piece ; it pierced the leather 
 and the pasteboard, and went in at his right eye. The 
 torture of the pain whirled the valiant bowman round, till 
 death, like a star of superior influence, drew him into his 
 5 own vortex. 
 Ingens hiatus * * * * * 
 
 hie in MS. ***** 
 
 * * , when Homer appeared at the head of the 
 
 cavalry, mounted on a furious horse, with difficulty managed 
 
 10 by the rider himself, but which no other mortal durst 
 approach ; he rode among the enemy's ranks, and bore 
 down all before him. Say, goddess, whom he slew first, 
 and whom he slew last ! First, Gondibert advanced against 
 him, clad in heavy armour, and mounted on a staid, sober 
 
 j 5 gelding, not so famed for his speed as his docility in kneel- 
 ing, whenever his rider would mount or alight. He had 
 made a vow to Pallas, that he would never leave the field 
 till he had spoiled Homer of his armour : madman, who 
 had never once seen the wearer, nor understood' his 
 
 20 strength ! Him Homer overthrew, horse and man, to 
 the ground, there ' to be trampled and choked in the dirt, 
 Then, with a long spear, he slew Denham, a stout modem, 
 who from his father's side derived his lineage from Apollo, 
 but his mother was of mortal race. He fell, and bit the 
 
 25 earth. The celestial part Apollo took, and made it a star ; 
 but the terrestrial lay wallowing upon the ground. Then 
 Homer slew Wesley, with a kick of his horse's heel ; he 
 took Perrault by mighty force out of his saddle, then hurled 
 him at Fontenelle, with the same blow dashing put both 
 
 30 their brains. 
 
 On the left wing of the horse, Virgil appeared, in shining 
 armour, completely fitted to his body : he was mounted on 
 a dapple-gray steed, the slowness of whose pace was an 
 effect of the highest mettle and vigour. He cast his eye 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 219 
 
 on the adverse wing, with a desire to find an object worthy 
 of his valour, when, behold, upon a sorrel gelding of a 
 monstrous size, appeared a foe, issuing from among the 
 thickest of the enemy's squadrons ; but his speed was less 
 than his noise ; for his horse, old and lean, spent the dregs 5 
 of his strength in a high trot, which, though it made slow 
 advances, yet caused a loud clashing of his armour, terrible 
 to hear. The two cavaliers had now approached within the 
 throw of a lance, when the stranger desired a parley, and, 
 lifting up the vizard of his helmet, a face hardly appeared 10 
 from within, which, after a pause, was known for that of the 
 renowned Dryden. The brave ancient suddenly started, as 
 one possessed with surprise and disappointment together ; 
 for the helmet was nine times too large for the head, which 
 appeared situate far in the hinder part, even like the lady 15 
 in a lobster, or like a mouse under a canopy of state, or like 
 a shrivelled beau, from within the penthouse of a modern 
 periwig; and the voice was suited to the visage, sounding 
 weak and remote. Dryden, in a long harangue, soothed up 
 the good ancient ; called him father, and, by a large de- 20 
 duction of genealogies, made it plainly appear that they 
 were nearly related. Then he humbly proposed an ex- 
 change of armour, as a lasting mark of hospitality between 
 them. Virgil consented, (for the goddess Diffidence came 
 unseen, and cast a mist before his eyes,) though his was of 25 
 gold, and cost a hundred beeves, the other's but of rusty 
 iron. However, this glittering armour became the modern 
 yet worse than his own. Then they agreed to exchange 
 horses ; but, when it came to the trial, Dryden was afraid, 
 and utterly unable to mount. * * * 30 
 
 ****** * 
 
 ***** Alter hiatus 
 
 ***** in MS. 
 
220 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Lucan appeared upon a fiery horse of admirable shape, 
 but headstrong, bearing the rider where he list over the 
 field; he made a mighty slaughter among the enemy's 
 horse; which destruction to stop, Blackmore, a famous 
 5 modern, (but one of the mercenaries,) strenuously opposed 
 himself, and darted a javelin with a strong hand, which, 
 falling short of its mark, struck deep in the earth. Then 
 Lucan threw a lance ; but ^Esculapius came unseen, and 
 turned off the point. Brave modern, said Lucan, I per- 
 10 ceive some god protects you, for never did my arm so 
 deceive me before ; but what mortal can contend with a 
 god ? Therefore, let us fight no longer, but present gifts to 
 each other. Lucan then bestowed the modern a pair of 
 spurs, and Blackmore gave Lucan a bridle. * * 
 
 IE * * * * * * # * 
 
 Pauca de- * * * * * * 
 
 sunt. * * * * * * * 
 
 $ * * * * * * * 
 
 Creech: but the goddess Dulness took a cloud, formed 
 20 into the shape of Horace, armed and mounted, and placed 
 it in a flying posture before him. Glad was the cavalier to 
 begin a combat with a flying foe, and pursued the image, 
 threatening loud; till at last it led him to the peaceful 
 bower of his father, Ogleby, by whom he was disarmed, and 
 25 assigned to his repose. 
 
 Then Pindar slew — , and — , and Oldham, and — , and 
 Afra the Amazon, light of foot ; never advancing in a direct 
 line, but wheeling with incredible agility and force, he made 
 a terrible slaughter among the enemy's light horse. Him 
 30 when Cowley observed, his generous heart burnt within 
 him, and he advanced against the fierce ancient, imitating 
 his address, and pace, amd career, as well as the vigour of 
 his horse and his own skill would allow. When the two 
 cavaliers had approached within the length of three javelins, 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 231 
 
 first Cowley threw a lance, which missed Pindar, and, 
 passing into the enemy's ranks, fell ineffectual to the 
 ground. Then Pindar darted a javelin so large and weighty, 
 that scarce a dozen cavaliers, as cavaliers are in our de- 
 generate days, could raise it from the ground ; yet he threw 5 
 it with ease, and it went, by an unerring hand, singing 
 through the air ; nor could the modern have avoided 
 present death, if he had not luckily opposed the shield, 
 that had been given him by Venus. And now both heroes 
 drew their swords ; but the modern was so aghast and 10 
 disordered, that he knew not where he was ; his shield 
 dropped from his hands ; thrice he fled, and thrice he could 
 not escape ; at last he turned, and lifting up his hands in 
 the posture of a suppliant, Godlike Pindar, said he, spare 
 my life, and possess my horse, with these arms, besides the 15 
 ransom which my friends will give, when they hear I am 
 alive, and your prisoner. Dog ! said Pindar, let your 
 ransom stay with your friends ; but your carcass shall be 
 left for the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field. 
 With that he raised his sword, and, with a mighty stroke, 2^ 
 cleft the wretched modern in twain, the sword pursuing the 
 blow ; and one half lay panting on the ground, to be trod 
 in pieces by the horses' feet ; the other half was borne by 
 the frighted steed through. the field. This Venus took, 
 washed it seven times in ambrosia, then struck it thrice 25 
 with a sprig of amarant ; upon which the leather grew 
 round and soft, and the leaves turned into feathers, and 
 being gilded before, continued gilded still ; so it became 
 a dove, and she harnessed it to her chariot. * * 
 
 ***** Hiatus valde de- 30 
 
 ***** flendus in MS. / 
 
233 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Day being far spent, and the numerous forces of the 
 moderns half inclining to a retreat, there issued forth from 
 a squadron of their heavy-armed foot, a captain, whose name 
 was Bentley, in person the most deformed of all the moderns; 
 
 5 tall, but without shape or comeliness; large, but without 
 strength or proportion . His armour was patched up of a thou- 
 sand incoherent pieces ; and the sound of it, as he marched, 
 was loud and dry, like that made by the fall of a sheet of lead, 
 which an Etesian wind blows suddenly down from the roof 
 
 10 of some steeple. His helmet was of old rusty iron, but the 
 vizard was brass, which, tainted by his breath, corrupted into 
 copperas, nor wanted gall from the same fountain ; so that, 
 whenever provoked by anger or labour, an atramentous 
 quality, of most malignant nature, was seen to distil from 
 
 15 his lips. In his right hand he grasped a flail, and (that he 
 might never be unprovided of an offensive weapon) a vessel 
 full of ordure in his left. Thus completely armed, he ad- 
 vanced with a slow and heavy pace where the modern chiefs 
 were holding a consult upon the sum of things ; who, as he 
 
 20 came onwards, laughed to behold his crooked leg and hump 
 shoulder, which his boot and armour, vainly endeavouring 
 to hide, were forced to comply with and expose. The 
 generals made use of him for his talent of railing ; which, 
 kept within government, proved frequently of great service 
 
 25 to their cause, but, at other times, did more mischief than 
 good; for, at the least touch of offence, and often without any 
 at ah, he would, like a wounded elephant, convert it against 
 his leaders. Such, at this juncture, was the disposition of 
 Bentley ; grieved to see the enemy -prevail, and dissatisfied 
 
 30 with everybody's conduct but his own. He humbly gave 
 the modern generals to understand, that he conceived, with 
 great submission, they were all a pack of rogues, and 
 fools, and d — d cowards, and confounded loggerheads, and 
 illiterate whelps, and nonsensical scoundrels ; that, if himself 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 223 
 
 had been constituted general, those presumptuous dogs 1 , the 
 ancients, would, long before this, have been beaten out of 
 the field. You, said he, sit here idle ; but when I, or any 
 other valiant modern, kill an enemy, you are sure to seize 
 the spoil. But I will not march one foot against the foe till 5 
 you all swear to me, that whomsoever I take or kill, his arms 
 I shall quietly possess. Bentley having spoke thus, Scaliger, 
 bestowing him a sour look, Miscreant prater ! said he, elo- 
 quent only in thine own eyes, thou railest without wit, or 
 truth, or discretion. The malignity of thy temper perverteth 10 
 nature ; thy learning makes thee more barbarous, thy study 
 of humanity more inhuman ; thy converse amongst poets 
 more grovelling, miry, and dull. All arts of civilizing others 
 render thee rude and untractable ; courts have taught thee 
 ill manners, and polite conversation hath finished thee a 15 
 pedant. Besides, a greater coward burdeneth not the 
 army. But never despond; I pass my word, whatever 
 spoil thou takest shall certainly be thy own; though, I 
 hope, that vile carcass will first become a prey to kites and 
 worms. 20 
 
 Bentley durst not reply; but, half choked with spleen 
 and rage, withdrew, in full resolution of performing some 
 great achievement. With him, for his aid and companion, 
 he took his beloved Wotton ; resolving, by policy or surprise, 
 to attempt some neglected quarter of the ancients' army. 25 
 They began their march over carcasses of their slaughtered 
 friends ; then to the right of their own forces ; then wheeled 
 northward, till they came to Aldrovandus's tomb, which they 
 passed on the side of the declining sun. And now they 
 arrived, with fear, toward the enemy's out-guards ; looking 30 
 about, if haply they might spy the quarters of the wounded, 
 or some straggling sleepers, unarmed, and remote from the 
 
 1 Vid. Homer, de Thersite. 
 
324 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 rest As when two mongrel curs, whom native greediness 
 and domestic want provoke and join in partnership, though 
 fearful, nightly to invade the folds of some rich grazier, they, 
 with tails depressed, and lolling tongues, creep soft and slow; 
 5 meanwhile, the conscious moon, now in her zenith, on their' 
 guilty heads darts perpendicular rays ; nor dare they bark, 
 though much provoked at her refulgent visage, whether seen 
 in puddle by reflection, or in sphere direct ; but one surveys 
 the region round, while the t'other scouts the plain, if haply 
 
 10 to discover, at distance from the flock, some carcass half 
 devoured, the refuse of gorged wolves, or ominous ravens. 
 So marched this lovely, loving pair of friends, nor with less 
 fear and circumspection, when, at distance, they might 
 perceive two shining suits of armour hanging upon an oak, 
 
 15 and the owners not far off, in a profound sleep. The two 
 friends drew lots, and the pursuing of this adventure fell-to 
 Bentley ; on he went, and, in his van, Confusion and Amaze, 
 while Horror and Affright brought up the rear. As he came 
 near, behold two heroes of the ancients' army, Phalaris and 
 
 20 iEsop, lay fast asleep : Bentley would fain have dispatched 
 them both, and, stealing close, aimed his flail at Phalaris's 
 breast. But then the goddess Affright interposing, caught 
 the modern in her icy arms, and dragged him from the danger 
 she foresaw ; both the dormant heroes happened to turn at 
 
 25 the same instant, though soundly sleeping, and busy in a 
 dream. For Phalaris was just that minute dreaming how 
 a most vile poetaster had lampooned him, and how he had 
 got him roaring in his bull. And ^Esop dreamed, that, as 
 he and the ancient chiefs were lying on the ground, a wild 
 
 30 ass broke loose, ran about, trampling and kicking in their 
 faces. Bentley, leaving the two heroes asleep, seized on 
 both their armours, and withdrew in quest of his darling 
 Wotton. 
 
 He, in the meantime, had wandered long in search of 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 225 
 
 some enterprize, till at length he arrived at a small rivulet, 
 that issued from a fountain hard by, called, in the language 
 of mortal men, Helicon. Here he stopped, and, parched 
 
 ■j with thirst, resolved to allay it in this limpid stream. Thrice 
 with profane hands he essayed to raise the water to his lips, 5 
 and thrice it slipped all through his fingers. Then he 
 stooped prone on his breast, but, ere his mouth had kissed 
 the liquid crystal, Apollo came, and, in the channel, held 
 his shield betwixt the modern and the fountain, so that he 
 drew up nothing but mud. For, although no fountain on 10 
 earth can compare with the clearness of Helicon, yet there 
 lies at bottom a thick sediment of slime and mud ; for 
 so Apollo begged of Jupiter, as a punishment to those 
 who durst attempt to taste it with unhallowed lips; and 
 for a lesson to all not to draw too deep or far from the 15 
 spring: 
 
 At the fountain-head, Wotton discerned two heroes ; the 
 one he could not distinguish, but the other was soon known 
 
 : for Temple, general of the allies to the ancients. His back 
 was turned, and he was employed in drinking large draughts 20 
 in his helmet from the fountain, where he had withdrawn 
 himself to rest from the toils of the war. Wotton observing 
 him, with quaking knees, and trembling hands, spoke thus 
 to himself: Oh that I could kill this destroyer of our army, 
 what renown should I purchase among the chiefs ! but to 25 
 issue out against him, man for man, shield against shield, 
 and lance against lance, what modern of us dare ? For he 
 fights like a god, and Pallas, or Apollo, are ever at his elbow. 
 But, Oh mother ! if what Fame reports be true, that I am 
 the son of so great a goddess, grant me to hit Temple with 3° 
 this lance, that the stroke may send him to hell, and that I 
 may return in safety and triumph, laden with his spoils. 
 The first part of this prayer, the gods granted at the inter- 
 cession of his mother and of Momus ; but the rest, by a 
 vol. 1. Q 
 
■226 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 perverse wind sent from Fate was scattered in the air. Then 
 Wotton grasped his lance, and, brandishing it thrice over 
 his head, darted it with all his might; the goddess, his 
 mother, at the same time, adding strength to his arm. 
 S Away the lance went hizzing, and reached even to the belt 
 of the averted ancient, upon which lightly grazing, it fell 
 to the ground. Temple neither felt the weapon touch 
 him, nor heard it fall ; and Wotton might have escaped to 
 his army, with the honour of having remitted his lance 
 
 10 against so great a leader, unrevenged ; but Apollo, enraged 
 that a javelin, flung by the assistance of so foul a goddess^ 
 
 should pollute his fountain, put on the shape of , and 
 
 softly came to young Boyle, who then accompanied Temple: 
 he pointed first to the lance, then to the distant modern 
 
 J 5 that flung it, and commanded the young hero to take im- 
 mediate revenge. Boyle, clad in a suit of armour, which 
 had been given him by all the gods, immediately advanced 
 against the trembling foe, who now fled before him. As a 
 young lion in the Libyan plains, or Araby desert, sent by 
 
 20 his aged sire to hunt for prey, or health, or exercise, he 
 scours along, wishing to meet some tiger from the mountains, 
 or a furious boar ; if chance, a wild ass, with brayings im- 
 portune, affronts his ear, the generous beast, though loathing 
 to destain his claws with blood so vile, yet, much provoked 
 
 25 at the offensive noise which Echo, foolish nymph, like her 
 ill-judging sex, repeats much louder, and with more delight 
 than Philomela's song, he vindicates the honour of the 
 forest, and hunts the noisy long-eared animal. So Wotton 
 fled, so Boyle pursued. But Wotton, heavy-armed, and 
 
 30 slow of foot, began to slack his course, when his lover, 
 Bentley, appeared, returning laden with the spoils of the two 
 sleeping ancients. Boyle observed him well, and soon dis- 
 covering the helmet and shield of Phalaris, his friend, both 
 which he had lately with his own hands new polished and 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 227 
 
 gilded ; rage sparkled in his eyes, and, leaving his pursuit after 
 Wotton, he furiously rushed on against this new approacher. 
 Fain would he be revenged on both; but both now fled 
 different ways : and, as a woman in a little house that gets 
 a painful livelihood by spinning ; if chance her geese be 5 
 scattered o'er the common, she courses round the plain 
 from side to side, compelling here and there the stragglers 
 to the flock ; they cackle loud, and flutter o'er the champaign. 
 So Boyle pursued, so fled this pair of friends ; finding at 
 length their flight was vain, they bravely joined, and drew 10 
 themselves in phalanx. First Bentley threw a spear with 
 all his force, hoping to pierce the enemy's breast ; but 
 Pallas came unseen, and in the air took off the point, and 
 clapped on one of lead, which, after a dead bang against the 
 enemy's shield, fell blunted to the ground. Then Boyle, 15 
 observing well his time, took a lance of wondrous length 
 and sharpness ; and, as this pair of friends compacted, stood 
 close side to side, he wheeled him to the right, and, with 
 unusual force, darted the weapon. Bentley saw his fate 
 approach, and flanking down his arms close to his ribs, 20 
 hoping to save his body, in went the point, passing through 
 arm and side, nor stopped or spent its force, till it had also 
 pierced the valiant Wotton, who, going to sustain his dying 
 friend, shared his fate. As when a skilful cook has trussed 
 a brace of woodcocks, he, with iron skewer, pierces the 25 
 tender sides of both, their legs and wings close pinioned to 
 their ribs ; so was this pair of friends transfixed, till down 
 they fell, joined in their lives, joined in their deaths; so 
 closely joined, that Charon will mistake them both for 
 one, and waft them over Styx for half his fare. Farewell, 30 
 beloved, loving pair ! few equals have you left behind : and 
 happy and immortal shall you be, if all my wit and elo- 
 quence can make you. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 And, now * * * * * 
 
 ******** 
 
 * * * * * * * * 
 
 * * Desunt cpttra. 
 
IV. 
 JOURNAL TO STELLA. 
 
 From the 2nd of September, 1710, to the 6th of June, 1713, Swift 
 recorded for Esther Johnson, from day to day, his thoughts and 
 doings during what was the period of his greatest activity and 
 influence in English politics. The events of the time were of much 
 importance 1 but the details of the party struggle are now of 
 comparatively little interest, and it would be absurd to expect 
 that one who reads Swift in order to appreciate his literary genius 
 should linger long over the Tracts which Swift contributed on 
 behalf of one side in the political dispute. The chief of his con- 
 tributions in this way are, The Public Spirit of the Whigs, and The 
 Conduct of the Allies, each designed to show that the right lay with 
 the Tory Ministers, and those who supported them in their efforts to 
 bring about the Peace of Utrecht. But the space which these Tracts 
 would occupy in a collection like the present is out of proportion 
 to their interest ; and it has been thought better to represent Swift's 
 part in the political struggle of the last years of Queen Anne's reign, 
 by specimens which are at once shorter and more general in their 
 bearing. These appear to be fitly introduced by some extracts from 
 this Journal, which not only give a vivid picture of his daily life, his 
 hopes and forebodings, his friendships and his enmities, his public 
 aims and his personal ambitions, but which at the same time are 
 unique as illustrations of the more playful and tender side of his 
 character. The limits and conditions of that closest friendship with 
 her of whom he spoke, and whom the world has remembered, as Stella, 
 must remain a mystery to us. But in these pages we are at least 
 permitted to see how tender in feeling, how unreserved in confidence, 
 how full of that easy familiarity which is the most perfect quality in 
 correspondence, Swift could be with her who continued to be the 
 companion most dear to him until death broke their bond. Unique 
 as these journalistic letters are, they serve, like the other specimens 
 
330 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 of Swift's work, to show how perfect was his command over the 
 instrument of written language, and how he could make his pen 
 convey with unerring nicety, and at the same time with consummate 
 ease, precisely that shade of feeling which he desired to express. They 
 are none the less interesting because they lay bare to us foibles, 
 pettinesses, and weaknesses, which were hidden from the world at 
 large under the seemingly impenetrable armour of pride and sarcasm. 
 
 Letter I. 
 
 Chester, Sept. 2, 17 10. 
 
 Joe will give you an account of me till I got into the 
 boat, after which the rogues made a new bargain, and 
 forced me to give them two crowns, and talked as if we 
 should not be able to overtake any ship ; but in half an 
 5 hour we got to the yacht ; for the ships lay by to wait for 
 my lord-lieutenant's steward. We made our voyage in 
 fifteen hours just. Last night I came to this town, and 
 shall leave it, I believe, on Monday : the first man I met 
 in Chester was Dr. Raymond. He and Mrs. Raymond 
 
 10 were here about levying a fine, in order to have power to 
 sell their estate. I got a fall off my horse, riding here 
 from Parkgate, but no hurt ; the horse understanding falls 
 very well, and lying quietly till I got up. My duty to the 
 Bishop of Clogher. I saw him returning from Dunlary; 
 
 15 but he saw not me. I take it ill he was not at Convocation, 
 and that I have not his name to my powers. I beg you 
 will hold your resolution of going to Trim, and riding there 
 as much as you can. - Let the Bishop of Clogher remind 
 the Bishop of Killala to send me a letter, with one inclosed 
 
 20 to the Bishop of Lichfield. Let all who write to me 
 inclose to Richard Steele, Esq., at his office at the Cockpit, 
 near Whitehall. My Lord Mountjoy is now in the humour 
 that we should begin our journey this afternoon, so that I 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 331 
 
 have stolen here again to finish this letter, which must be 
 short or long accordingly. I write this post to Mrs. Wesley, 
 and will tell her that I have taken care she may have her 
 bill of one hundred and fifteen pounds whenever she pleases 
 to send for it ; and in that case I desire you will send it her 5 
 inclosed and sealed. God Almighty bless poor dearichar 
 MD ; and, for God's sake, be merry, and get a health. I 
 am perfectly resolved to return as soon as I have done my 
 Commission, whether it succeeds or not. I never went to 
 England with so little desire in my life. If Mrs. Curry 10 
 makes any difficulty about the lodgings, I will quit them. 
 The post is come from London, and just going out, so I 
 have only time to pray God to bless poor richar MD FW. 
 
 Letter II. 
 
 London, Sept. 9, Saturday, 1710. 
 
 I got here last Thursday, after five days' travelling, weary 
 the first, almost dead the second, tolerable the third, and 15 
 well enough the rest ; and am now glad of the fatigue, 
 which has served for exercise ; and I am at present well 
 enough. The Whigs were ravished to see me, and would 
 lay hold on me as a twig while they are drowning, and the 
 great men making me their clumsy apologies, &c. But my 20 
 Lord-Treasurer received me with a great deal of coldness, 
 which has enraged me so, I am almost vowing revenge. I 
 have not yet gone half my circle; but I find all my 
 acquaintance just as I left them. I hear my Lady Giffard 
 is much at court, and Lady Wharton was ridiculing it the 25 
 other day ; so I have lost a friend there. I have not yet 
 seen her, nor intend it ; but I will contrive to see Stella's 
 mother some other way. I writ to the Bishop of Clogher 
 from Chester; and I now write to the Archbishop of 
 Dublin. Every thing is turning upside down ; every Whig 30 
 
33a SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 in great office will, to a man, be infallibly put out ; and we 
 shall have such a winter as has not been seen in England, 
 Every body asks me, how I came to be so long in Ireland, 
 as naturally as if here were my being ; but no soul offers to 
 5 make it so : and I protest I shall return to Dublin, and the 
 canal at Laracor, with more satisfaction than I ever did in 
 my life. The Tatler expects every day to be turned out of 
 his employment ; and the Duke of Ormond, they say, will 
 be lieutenant of Ireland. I hope you are now peaceably in 
 
 10 Presto's lodgings : but I resolve to turn you out by Christ- 
 mas : in which time I shall either do my business, or find 
 it not to be done. Pray be at Trim by the time this letter 
 comes to you, and ride little Johnson, who must needs be 
 now in good case. I have begun this letter unusually on 
 
 15 the post night, and have already written to the archbishop 
 and cannot lengthen this. Henceforth I will write some- 
 
 ( thing every day to MD, and make it a sort of journal : and 
 when it is full, I will send it whether MD writes or not: 
 and so that will be pretty : and I shall always be in 
 
 20 conversation with MD, and MD with Presto. Pray make 
 Parvisol pay you the ten pounds immediately : so I ordered 
 him. They tell me I am growing fatter, and look better ; 
 and, on Monday, Jervas is to retouch my picture. I 
 thought I saw Jack Temple and his wife pass by me to-day 
 
 25 in their coach ; but I took no notice of them. I am glad 
 I have wholly shaken off that family. Tell the provost I 
 have obeyed his commands to the Duke of Ormond; or 
 let it alone, if you please. I saw Jemmy Leigh just now at 
 the coffeehouse, who asked after you with great kindness: 
 
 30 he talks of going in a fortnight to Ireland. My service to 
 the dean, and Mrs. Walls, and her archdeacon. I fancy 
 you had my Chester letter the Tuesday after I writ. I 
 presented Dr. Raymond to Lord Wharton at Chester. 
 Pray let me know when Joe gets his money. It is near 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 2,33 
 
 ten, and I hate to send by the bellman. MD shall have a 
 longer letter in a week, but I send this only to tell I am 
 safe in London ; and so farewell. 
 
 Letter III. 
 
 London, Sept. 10, 1710. 
 ******* 
 
 I sat till ten in the evening with Addison and Steele ; 
 Steele will certainly lose his Gazetteer's place, all the world 5 
 detesting his engaging in parties. At ten I went to the 
 coffeehouse, hoping to find Lord Radnor, whom I had not 
 seen. He was there ; for an hour and a half we talked 
 treason heartily against the Whigs, their baseness and in- 
 gratitude. And I am come home rolling resentments in 10 
 my mind, and framing schemes of revenge ; full of which, 
 (having written down some hints,) I go to bed. I am 
 afraid MD dined at home, because it is Sunday; and there 
 was the little half-pint of wine ; for God's sake be good 
 girls, and all will be well. Ben Tooke was with me this 15 
 morning. 
 
 11. Seven morning. I am rising to go to Jervas to 
 finish my picture, and it is shaving day, so good morrow 
 MD ; but do not keep me now, for I cannot stay ; and 
 pray dine with the dean, but do not lose your money. 20 
 I long to hear from you. — Ten at night. I sat four 
 hours this morning to Jervas, who has given my picture 
 quite another turn, and now approves it entirely : but we 
 must have the approbation of the town. If I were rich 
 enough, I would get a copy of it, and bring it over. Mr. 25 
 Addison and I dined together at his lodgings, and I sat 
 with him part of this evening ; and I am now come home 
 to write an hour. Patrick observes, that the rabble here 
 are much more inquisitive in politics than in Ireland. 
 
334 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Every day we expect changes, and the parliament to be 
 dissolved. Lord Wharton expects every day to be out: 
 he is working like a horse for elections ; and, in short, I 
 never saw so great a ferment among all sorts of people. * * 
 5 12. To-day I presented Mr. Ford to the Duke of Or- 
 mond ; and paid my first visit to Lord President, with whom 
 I had much discourse ; but put him always off when he 
 began of Lord Wharton in relation to me, till he urged it : 
 then I said, he knew I never expected any thing from Lord 
 
 io Wharton, and that Lord Wharton knew that I understood 
 it so. He said, that he had written twice to Lord Wharton 
 about me, who both times said nothing at all to that part of 
 his letter. I am advised not to meddle in the affair of the 
 first-fruits till this hurry is a little over, which still depends, 
 
 15 and we are all in the dark. Lord President told me he 
 
 expects every day to be out, and has done so these two 
 
 months. I protest upon my life, I am heartily weary of 
 
 this town, and wish I had never stirred. * * * * 
 
 15. To-day Mr. Addison, Colonel Freind, and I, went to 
 
 20 see the million lottery drawn at Guildhall. The jackanapes 
 of blue-coat boys gave themselves such airs in pulling out 
 the tickets, and showed white hands open to the company, 
 to let us see there was no cheat. We dined at a country- 
 house near Chelsea, where Mr. Addison . often retires ; and 
 
 25 to-night at the coffeehouse ; we hear Sir Simon Harcourt is 
 made lord keeper; so that now we expect every moment 
 the parliament will be dissolved; but I forgot that this 
 letter will not go in three or four days, and that my news 
 will be stale, which I should therefore put in the last para- 
 
 30 graph. Shall I send this letter before I hear from MD, or 
 shall I keep it to lengthen ? I have not yet seen Stella's 
 mother, because I will not see Lady Giffard; but I will 
 contrive to get there when Lady Giffard is abroad. I 
 forgot to mark my two former letters ; but I remember this 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 235 
 
 is number 3, and I have not yet had number 1 from MD ; 
 but I shall by Monday, which I reckon will be just a 
 fortnight after you had my first. I am resolved to bring 
 over a great deal of china. I loved it mightily to-day. 
 What shall I bring ? 5 
 
 16. Morning. Sir John Holland, comptroller of the 
 household, has sent to desire my acquaintance; I have a 
 mind to refuse him, because he is a Whig, and will, I 
 suppose, be out among the rest ; but he is a man of worth 
 and learning. Tell me, do you like this journal way of 10 
 writing ? Is it not tedious and dull ? * * * * 
 
 18. To-day I dined with Mr. Stratford at Mr. Addison's 
 retirement near Chelsea ; then came to town ; got home 
 early, and began a letter to the Tatler, about the corruptions 
 of style and writing, &c. ; and having not heard from you, 1 5 
 am resolved this letter shall go to-night. Lord Wharton 
 was sent for to town in mighty haste, by the Duke of 
 Devonshire ; they have some project in hand ; but it will 
 not do, for every hour we expect a thorough revolution, 
 and that the parliament will be dissolved. * * * 20 
 
 20. To-day I returned my visits to the duke's daughters ; 
 the insolent drabs came up to my very mouth to salute me ; 
 then I heard the report confirmed of removals ; my Lord 
 President Somers ; the Duke of Devonshire, lord steward ; 
 and Mr. Boyle, secretary of state, are all turned out to-day.. 25 
 I never remember such bold steps taken by a court : I am 
 almost shocked at it, though I did not care if they were all 
 hanged. We are astonished why the parliament is not yet 
 dissolved, and why they keep a matter of that importance 
 to the last. We shall have a strange winter here between 30 
 the struggles of a cunning provoked discarded party, and 
 the triumphs of one in power ; of both which I shall be an 
 indifferent spectator, and return very peaceably to Ireland, 
 when I have done my part in the affair I am intrusted with, 
 
236 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 whether it succeeds or not. To-morrow I change my 
 lodgings in Pall Mall for one in Bury Street, where I 
 suppose I shall continue while I stay in London. If any 
 thing happens to-morrow, I will add it. 
 
 Robin's Coffeehouse. — We have great news just now from 
 Spain ; Madrid taken and Pampeluna. I am here ever 
 interrupted. ******** 
 
 Letter IV. 
 
 London, Sept. 21, 1710. 
 
 Here must I begin another letter, on a whole sheet, for 
 fear saucy little MD should be angry, and think much that 
 
 10 the paper is too little. I had your letter this night, as I 
 told you just and no more in my last; for this must be 
 taken up in answering yours, sauce-box. I believe I told 
 you where I dined to-day ; and to-morrow I go out of town 
 for two days to dine with the same company on Sunday; 
 
 15 Molesworth the Florence envoy, Stratford, and some others. 
 I heard to-day that a gentlewoman from Lady Giffard's 
 house had been at the coffeehouse to inquire for me. It 
 was Stella's mother, I suppose. I shall send her a penny- 
 post letter to-morrow, and contrive to see her without 
 
 20 hazarding seeing Lady Giffard, which I will not do until 
 
 she begs my pardon. ******* 
 
 22. Things are in such a combustion here, that I am 
 
 advised not to meddle yet in the affair I am upon, which 
 
 concerns the clergy of a whole kingdom. * * * 
 
 25 26. Smoke how I widen the margin by lying in bed 
 when I write. My bed lies on the wrong side for me, so 
 that I am forced often to write when I am up. Manley, 
 you must know, has had people putting' in for his place 
 already ; and has been complained of for opening letters. 
 
 30 Remember that last Sunday, September 24, 17 10, was as 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 237 
 
 hot as Midsummer. This was written in the morning; it 
 is now night, and Presto in bed. Well, I dined to-day 
 with Sir John Holland the comptroller, and sat with him 
 till eight ; then came home and sent my letters, and writ 
 part of a lampoon, which goes on very slow, and now I am 5 
 writing to saucy MD ; no wonder, indeed, good boys must 
 write to naughty girls. I have not seen your mother yet ; 
 my penny-post letter, I suppose, miscarried r I will write 
 another. ********* 
 
 27. To-day all our company dined at Will Frankland's, 10 
 with Steele and Addison too. This is the first rainy day 
 since I came to town; I cannot afford to answer your 
 letter yet. Morgan, the puppy, writ me a long letter to 
 desire I would recommend him for pursebearer, or secretary 
 to the next lord chancellor that would come with the next 15 
 governor. I will not answer him ; but beg you will say 
 these words to his father, Raymond, or any body that will 
 tell him ; that Dr. Swift has received his letter, and would 
 be very ready to serve him, but cannot do it in what he 
 desires, because he has no sort of interest in the persons to 20 
 be applied to. These words you may write, and let Joe, 
 or Mr. Warburton, give them to him : a plague on him ! 
 However, it is by these sort of ways that fools get prefer- 
 ment. I must not end yet, because I cannot say good 
 night without losing a line, and then MD would scold ; 25 
 but now, good night. ******* 
 
 29. I wish MD a merry Michaelmas. I dined with Mr. 
 Addison, and Jervas the painter, at Addison's country 
 place; and then came home, and writ more to my lam- 
 poon. I made a Tatler since I came ; guess which it is, 3° 
 and whether the Bishop of Clogher smokes it. I saw Mr. 
 Sterne to-day ; he will do as you order, and I will give him 
 chocolate for Stella's health. He goes not these three 
 weeks. I wish I could send it some other way. So now 
 
238 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 to your letter, brave boys. I do not like your way of 
 saving shillings : nothing vexes me but that it does not 
 make Stella a coward in a coach. I do not think any 
 lady's advice about my ears signifies twopence ; however I 
 
 5 will, in compliance to you, ask Dr. Cockburn. * * * 
 To-morrow I go to Mr. Harley. Why small hopes from 
 the Duke of Ormond? he loves me very well, I believe, 
 and would in my turn give me something to make me 
 easy; and I have good interest among his best friends. 
 
 10 But I do not think of any thing farther than the business I 
 am upon. I lodge in Bury Street, where I removed a week 
 ago. I have the first floor, a dining-room and bed- 
 chamber, at eight shillings a week; plaguy deep, but I 
 spend nothing for eating, never go to a tavern, and very 
 
 15 seldom in a coach ; yet after all it will be expensive. Why 
 do you trouble yourself, Mrs. Stell, about my instrument? 
 I have the same the archbishop gave me ; and it is as good 
 now the bishops are away. 
 
 Letter V. 
 
 London, Sept. 30, 1710. 
 
 Have not I brought myself into a fine premunire to 
 
 20 begin writing letters in whole sheets ? and now I dare not 
 
 leave it off. I cannot tell whether you like these journal 
 
 letters : I believe they would be dull to me to read them 
 
 over; but, perhaps, little MD is pleased to know how 
 
 Presto passes his time in her absence. I always begin my 
 
 35 last the same day I ended the former. I told you where I 
 
 dined to-day at a tavern with Stratford : Lewis, who is a 
 
 great favourite of Harley's, was to have been with us ; but 
 
 he was hurried to Hampton Court, and sent his excuse, 
 
 and that next Wednesday he would introduce me to 
 
 30 Harley. It is good to see what a lamentable confession 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 239 
 
 the Whigs all make me of my ill usage ; but I mind them 
 not. I am already represented to Harley as a discontented 
 person, that was used ill for not being Whig enough ; and I 
 hope for good usage from him. The Tories dryly tell me, 
 I may make my fortune, if I please ; but I do not under- 5 
 stand them, or rather I do understand them. 
 
 Oct. 1. To-day I dined at Molesworth's, the Florence 
 envoy ; and sat this evening with my friend Darteneuf, 
 whom you have heard me talk of; the greatest punner of 
 this town next myself. Have you smoked the Tatler that I 10 
 writ? it is much liked here, and I think it a pure one. 
 To-morrow I go with Delaval the Portugal envoy, to dine 
 with Lord Halifax near Hampton Court. * * * 
 
 2. Lord Halifax was at Hampton Court at his lodgings, 
 and I dined with him there with Methuen and Delaval, 15 
 and the late attorney-general. I went to the drawing-room 
 before dinner, (for the queen was at Hampton Court,) and 
 expected to see nobody; but I met acquaintance enough. 
 I walked in the gardens, saw the Cartoons of Raphael, and 
 other things, and with great difficulty got from Lord Hali- 20 
 fax, who would have kept me to-morrow to show me his 
 house and park, and improvements. We left Hampton 
 Court at sunset, and got here in a chariot and two horses 
 time enough by starlight. That's something charms me 
 mightily about London ; that you go dine a dozen miles off 25 
 in October, stay all day, and return so quickly ; you cannot 
 do any thing like this in Dublin. I writ a second penny- 
 post letter to your mother, and hear nothing of her. Did I 
 tell you that Earl Berkeley died last Sunday was se'ennight, 
 at Berkeley Castle, of a dropsy ? Lord Halifax began a 30 
 health to me to-day : it was the resurrection of the Whigs, 
 which I refused, unless he would add their reformation 
 too : and I told him he was the only Whig in England I 
 loved, or had any good opinion of. 
 
240 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 3. This morning Stella's sister came to me with a letter 
 from her mother, who is at Sheen ; but will soon be in 
 town, and will call to see me : she gave me a bottle of 
 palsy water, a small one, and desired I would send it you 
 5 by the first convenience, as I will ; and she promises a 
 quart bottle of the same ; your sister looked very well, and 
 seems a good modest sort of girl. I went then to Mr. 
 Lewis, first secretary to Lord Dartmouth, and favourite to 
 Mr. Harley, who is to introduce me to-morrow morning. 
 
 10 4- After I had put out my candle last night, my landlady 
 came into my room, with a servant of Lord Halifax, to 
 desire I would go dine with him at his house near Hampton 
 Court ; but I sent him word I had business of great im- 
 portance that hindered me, &c. And, to-day, I was 
 
 15 brought privately to Mr. Harley, who received me with 
 the greatest respect and kindness imaginable : he has 
 appointed me an hour on Saturday at four, afternoon, 
 when I will open my business to him. I dined to-day 
 at Mr. Delaval's, the envoy of Portugal, with Nic. Rowe 
 
 20 the poet, and other friends ; and I gave my lampoon to be 
 printed. I have more mischief in my heart ; and I think 
 it shall go round with them all, as this hits, and I can find 
 hints. I am going to work at another Tatter; I will be far 
 enough but I say the same thing over two or three times, 
 
 25 just as I do when I am talking to little MD ; but what care 
 I ? they can read it as easily as I can write it : I think I 
 have brought these lines pretty straight again. I fear it 
 will be long before I finish two sides at this rate. Pray, 
 dear MD, when I occasionally give -you a little commission 
 
 30 mixed with my letters, do not forget it, as that to Morgan 
 and Joe, &c, for I write just as I can remember, otherwise 
 I would put them all together. I was to visit Mr. Sterne 
 to-day, and gave him your commission about handkerchiefs : 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 241 
 
 that of chocolate I will do myself, and send it him when he 
 goes, and you will pay me when the giver's bread, &c. 
 To-night v I will read a pamphlet, to amuse myself. God 
 preserve your dear healths. 
 
 5 This morning Delaval came to see me, and we went 5 
 to Kneller's, who was not in town. In the way we met the 
 electors for parliamentmen : and the rabble came about 
 our coach, crying a Colt, a Stanhope, &c. We were afraid 
 of a dead cat, or our glasses broken, and so were always of 
 their side. ******** , Q 
 
 6. Sir Andrew Fountaine came this morning, and caught 
 me writing in bed. I went into the city with him ; and we 
 dined at the chophouse with Will Pate, the learned woollen- 
 draper : then we sauntered at china-shops and booksellers : 
 went to the tavern, drank two pints of white wine, and never 15 
 parted till ten : and now I am come home, and must copy 
 out some papers I intend for Mr. Harley, whom I am to see, 
 
 as I told you, to-morrow afternoon : so that this night I 
 shall say little to MD, but that I heartily wish myself with 
 them, and will come as soon as I either fail, or compass my 20 
 business. We now hear daily of elections ; and, in a list I 
 saw yesterday of about twenty, there are seven or eight 
 more Tories than in the last parliament ; so that I believe 
 they need not fear a majority, with the help of those who 
 will vote as the court pleases. But I have been told, that 25 
 Mr. Harley himself would not let the Tories be too 
 numerous, for fear they should be insolent, and kick 
 against him; and for that reason they have kept several 
 Whigs in employments, who expected to be turned out 
 every day ; as Sir John Holland the comptroller, and many 30 
 others. And so get you gone to your cards, and your 
 claret and oranges, at the dean's, and I will go write. 
 
 7. I wonder when this letter will be finished : it must go 
 by Tuesday, that is certain ; and if I have one from MD 
 
 vol. 1. R 
 
243 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 before, I will not answer it, that is as certain too ! It is no* 
 morning, and I did not finish my papers for Mr. Harley last 
 night; for you must understand Presto was sleepy, and 
 made blunders and blots. Very pretty that I must be 
 5 writing to young women in a morning fresh and fasting, 
 faith. Well, good morrow to you : and so I go to business, 
 and lay aside this paper till night, sirrahs. — At night. 
 Jack How told Harley, • that if there were a lower place 
 in hell than another, it was reserved for his porter, who 
 
 io tells lies so gravely, and with so civil a manner. This 
 porter I have had to deal with, going this evening at four 
 to visit Mr. Harley, by his own appointment. But the 
 fellow told me no lie, though I suspected every word he 
 said. He told me his master was just gone to dinner, with 
 
 15 much company, and desired I would come an hour hence, 
 which I did, expecting to hear Mr. Harley was gone out; 
 but they had just done dinner. Mr. Harley came out to 
 me, brought me in, and presented me to his son-in-law, 
 Lord Doblane, (or some such name,) and his own son, and 
 
 20 among others, Will Penn the Quaker : we sat two hours, 
 drinking as good wine as you do ; and two hours more he 
 and I alone ; where he heard me tell my business : entered 
 into it with all kindness ; asked for my powers, and read 
 them ; and read likewise a memorial I had drawn up, and 
 
 25 put it in his pocket to show the queen ; told me the 
 measures he would take; and, in short, said every thing 
 I could wish ; told me he must bring Mr. St. John (secretary 
 of state) and me acquainted ; and spoke so many things of 
 personal kindness and esteem for me, that I am inclined 
 
 .30 half to believe what some friends have told me, that he 
 would do every thing to bring me over. He has desired to 
 dine with me, (what a comical mistake was that,) I mean, 
 he has desired me to dine with him on Tuesday ; and after 
 four hours being with him, set me down at St. James's 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 243 
 
 Coffeehouse in a hackney coach. All this is odd and 
 comical if you consider him and me. He knew my 
 christian name very well. I could not forbear saying 
 thus much upon this matter, although you will think it 
 tedious. But I will tell you ; you must know, it is fatal 5 
 to me to be a scoundrel and a prince the same day : for 
 being to see him at four, I could not engage myself to dine 
 at any friend's ; so I went to Tooke, to give him a ballad 
 and dine with him ; but he was not at home ; so I was 
 forced to go to a blind chophouse, and dine for tenpence 10 
 upon gill ale, bad broth, and three chops of mutton ; and 
 then go reeking from thence to the first minister of state. 
 And now I am going in charity to send Steele a Tatler, 
 who is very low of late. I think I am civiller than I used 
 to be; and have not used the expression of (you in Ireland) 15 
 and (we in England) as I did when I was here before, to 
 your great indignation. — They may talk of the you know 
 what ; but, gad, 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 20 
 to the church. But how far we must depend upon new 
 friends, I have learnt by long practice, though I think, 
 among great ministers, they are just as good as old ones. 
 And so I think this important day has made a great hole in 
 this side of the paper; and the fiddle faddles of to-morrow 25 
 and Monday will make up the rest ; and besides, I shall see 
 Harley on Tuesday before this letter goes. 
 
 8. I must tell you a great piece of refinement of Harley. 
 He charged me to come to him often ; I told him I was 
 . loth to trouble him in so much business as he had, and 30 
 desired I might have leave to come at his levee ; which he 
 immediately refused, and said, That was not a place for 
 friends to come to. It is now but morning, and I have got 
 a foolish trick ; I must say something to MD when I wake, 
 
 r 2 
 
344 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 and wish them a good morrow ; for this is not a shaving 
 day, Sunday, so I have time enough : but get you gone, you 
 rogues, I must go write : yes, it will vex me to the blood if 
 ( any of these long letters should miscarry : if they do I will 
 5 shrink to half sheets again ; but then what will you do to 
 make up the journal ? there will be ten days of Presto's life 
 lost, and that will be a sad thing, faith and troth. 
 
 ******** 
 10. Poor MD's letter was lying so huddled up among 
 papers I could not find it : I mean poor Presto's letter. 
 
 io Well, I dined with Mr. Harley to-day, and hope some 
 things will be done ; but I must say no more : and this 
 letter must be sent to the post-house, and not by the 
 bellman. I am to dine again there on Sunday next: I 
 hope to some good issue. And so now, soon as ever I 
 
 15 can in bed, I must begin my sixth to MD, as gravely 
 as if I had not written a word this month : fine doings, 
 faith. Methinks I do not write as I should, because I am 
 not in bed : see the ugly wide lines. God Almighty ever 
 bless you, &c. 
 
 20 Faith, this is a whole treatise ; I will go reckon the lines 
 on the other sides. I have reckoned them. 
 
 Letter VI. 
 
 London, Oct. 10, 1710. 
 
 So, as I told you just now in the letter I sent half an 
 hour ago, I dined with Mr. Harley to-day, who presented 
 me to the attorney-general, Sir Simon Harcourt, with much 
 
 25 compliment on all sides, &c. Harley told me he had shown 
 my memorial to the queen, and seconded it. very heartily; 
 and he desires me to dine with him again on Sunday, when 
 he promises to settle it with her majesty, before she names 
 a governor ; and I protest I am in hopes it will be done, all 
 
 30 but the forms, by that time, for he loves the church ; this 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 245 
 
 is a popular thing, and he would not have a governor share 
 
 in it; and, besides, I am told by all hands, he has a 
 
 mind to gain me over. But in the letter I writ last post 
 
 (yesterday) to the archbishop, I did not tell him a syllable 
 
 of what Mr. Harley said to me last night, because he 5 
 
 charged me to keep it secret ; so I would not tell it to you, 
 
 but that before this goes, I hope the secret will be over. I 
 
 am now writing my poetical description of a shower in 
 
 London, and will send it to the Tatler. This is the last 
 
 sheet of a whole quire I have written since I came to town. 10 
 ******** 
 
 12. I dined to-day with Dr. Garth and Mr. Addison, 
 at the Devil Tavern, by Temple Bar, and Garth treated; 
 and it is well I dine every day, else I should be longer 
 making out my letters : for we are yet in a very dull state, 
 only inquiring every day after new elections, where the 15 
 Tories carry it among the new members six to one. Mr. 
 Addison's election has passed easy and undisputed ; and I 
 believe if he had a mind to be chosen king he would hardly 
 be refused. ******** 
 
 I have finished my poem on the Shower, all but the 20 
 beginning, and am going on with my Tatler. They have 
 fixed about fifty things on me since I came : I have printed 
 but three. One advantage I get by writing to you daily, or 
 rather you get, is, that I remember not to write the same 
 things twice ; and yet I fear I have done it often already : 25 
 but I will mind and confine myself to the accidents of the 
 day ; and so get you gone to ombre, and be good girls, and 
 save your money, and be rich against Presto comes, and 
 write to me now and then : I am thinking it would be a 
 pretty thing to hear something from saucy MD ; but do 30 
 not hurt your eyes, Stella, I charge you. 
 
 13. There is a young fellow here in town we are all fond 
 of, and about a year or two come from the university, 
 
246 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 one Harrison, a pretty little fellow with a great deal of wit, 
 good sense, and good nature; has written some mighty 
 pretty things; that in your 6th Miscellanea, about the 
 Sprig of an Orange, is his : he has nothing to live on but 
 5 being governor to one of the Duke of Queensberry's sons 
 ■for forty pounds a-year. The fine fellows are always inviting 
 him to the tavern, and make him pay his club. Henley is 
 a great crony of his ; they are often at the tavern at six or 
 seven shillings reckoning, and always make the poor lad 
 
 10 pay his full share. A colonel and a lord were at him and 
 me the same way to-night : I absolutely refused, and made 
 Harrison lag behind, and persuaded him not to go to them. 
 I tell you this, because I find all rich fellows have that 
 humour of using all people without any consideration of 
 
 15 their fortunes ; but I will see them rot before they shall 
 
 serve me so. ******* * 
 
 14. At night. Mr. Addison and I dined with Ned 
 
 Southwell, and walked in the Park ; and at the coffeehouse 
 
 I found a letter from the Bishop of Clogher, and a packet 
 
 20 from MD. I opened the bishop's letter; but put up MD's, 
 and visited a lady just come to town, and am now got into 
 bed, and am going to open your little letter : and God send 
 I may find MD well, and happy, and merry, and that they 
 love Presto as they do fires. O, I will not open it yet ! yes 
 
 25 I will ! no I will not ; I am going ; I cannot stay till I turn 
 over : what shall I do ? my fingers itch : and I now have it 
 in my left hand ; and now I will open it this very moment — 
 I have just got it, and am cracking the seal, and cannot 
 imagine what is in it ; I fear only some letter from a bishop, 
 
 30 and it comes too late : I shall employ no body's credit but 
 my own. Well, I see though — Pshaw, it is from Sir Andrew 
 Fountaine : what, another ! I fancy that is from Mrs. 
 Barton; she told me she would write to me; but she 
 writes a better hand than this : I wish you would inquire; 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 247 
 
 it must be at Dawson's office at the castle. I fear this 
 is from Patty Rolt, by the scrawl. Well, I will read 
 MD's letter. Ah, no; it is from poor Lady Berkeley, 
 to invite me to Berkeley Castle this winter; and now it 
 grieves my heart : she says she hopes my lord is in a fair 5 
 way of recovery : poor lady. Well, now I go to MD's 
 letter: faith it is all right; I hoped it was wrong. Your 
 letter, N. 3, that I have now received, is dated Sept. 26, and 
 Manley's letter, that I had five days ago, was dated Oct. 3, 
 that is a fortnight's difference : I doubt it has lain in Steele's 10 
 office, and he forgot. Well, there is an end of that : he is 
 turned out of his place ; and you must desire those who 
 send me packets, to enclose them in a paper, directed to 
 Mr. Addison, at St. James's Coffeehouse : not common 
 letters, but packets : the Bishop of Clogher may mention it 15 
 to the archbishop when he sees him. * * * * 
 Revolutions a hindrance to me in my business ; revolutions 
 — to me in my business ? if it were not for the revolutions 
 I could do nothing at all ; and now I have all hopes 
 possible, though one is certain of nothing ; but to-morrow 20 
 I am to have an answer, and am promised an effectual one. 
 I suppose I have said enough in this and a former letter 
 how I stand with new people ; ten times better than ever 
 I did with the old ; forty times more caressed. I am to 
 dine to-morrow at Mr. Harley's ; and if he continues as he 25 
 has begun, no man has been ever better treated by another. 
 What you say about Stella's mother, I have spoken enough 
 to it already. I believe she is not in town ; for I have not 
 yet seen her. My lampoon is cried up to the skies ; but 
 nobody suspects me for it, except Sir Andrew Fountaine : 30 
 at least they say nothing of it to me. Did not I tell you 
 of a great man who received me very coldly ? that is he ; 
 but say nothing ; it was only a little revenge : I will 
 remember to bring it over. The Bishop of Clogher has 
 
348 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 smoked my Tatter, about shortening of words, &c. But, 
 God so ! &c. 
 
 15. I will write plainer, if I can remember it; for SteDa 
 must not spoil her eyes, and Dingley cannot read my hand 
 5 very well ; and I am afraid my letters are too long : then 
 you must suppose one to be two, and read them at twice. 
 I dined to-day with Mr. Harley : Mr. Prior dined with us. 
 He has left my memorial with the queen, who has con- 
 sented to give the first-fruits and twentieth parts, and will, 
 
 10 we hope, declare it to-morrow in the cabinet. But I beg 
 you to tell it to no person alive ; for so I am ordered, till 
 in public ; and I hope to get something of greater value. 
 After dinner came in Lord Peterborough : we renewed our 
 acquaintance, and he grew mightily fond of me. They 
 
 1 5 began to talk of a paper of verses called Sid Hamet. Mr, 
 Harley repeated part, and then pulled them out, and gave 
 them to a gentleman at the table to read, though they had 
 all read them often : Lord Peterborough would let nobody 
 read them but himself : so he did ; and Mr. Harley bobbed 
 
 20 me at every line to take notice of the beauties. Prior 
 rallied Lord Peterborough for author of them; and Lord 
 Peterborough said, he knew them to be his ; and Prior then 
 turned it upon me, and I on him. I am not guessed at all 
 in town to be the author ; yet so it is : but that is a secret 
 
 25 only to you. Ten to one whether you see them in Ireland; 
 yet here they run prodigiously. Harley presented me to 
 Lord President of Scotland, and Mr. Benson, Lord of the 
 Treasury. Prior and I came away at nine, and sat at the 
 Smyrna till eleven, receiving acquaintance. 
 
 30 16. This morning early I went in a chair, and Patrick 
 before it, to Mr. Harley, to give him another copy of my 
 memorial, as he desired ; but he was full of business, going 
 to the queen, and I could not see him ; but he desired I 
 would send up the paper, and excused himself upon his 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 249 
 
 hurry. I was a little baulked, but they tell me it is nothing. 
 I shall judge by my next visit. I tipt his porter with a 
 half-crown ; and so I am well there for a time at least ; I 
 dined at Stratford's in the city, and had burgundy and 
 tokay : came back a-foot like a scoundrel ; then went to 5 
 Mr. Addison, and supped with Lord Mountjoy, which made 
 me sick all night. I forgot that I bought six pounds of 
 chocolate for Stella, and a little wooden box ; and I have a 
 great piece of Brazil tobacco for Dingley, and a bottle of 
 palsy water for Stella; all which, with the two handkerchiefs 10 
 that Mr. Sterne has bought, and you must pay him for, will 
 be put in the box directed to Mrs. Curry's, and sent by Dr. 
 Hawkshaw, whom I have not seen : but Sterne has under- 
 taken it. The chocolate is a present, madam, for Stella. 
 Do not read this, you little rogue, with your little eyes : but 15 
 give it to Dingley, pray now ; and I will write as plain as 
 the skies : and let Dingley write Stella's part, and Stella 
 
 dictate to her, when she apprehends her eyes, &c. 
 
 * * * ***** 
 
 19. I am come home from dining in the city with Mr. 
 Addison, at a merchant's : and just now, at the coffee- 20 
 house, we have notice that the Duke of Ormond was this 
 day declared Lord-Lieutenant at Hampton Court, in 
 council. I have not seen Mr. Harley since ; but hope the 
 affair is done about first-fruits. I will see him, if possible, 
 to-morrow morning : but this goes to-night. * * So here 25 
 goes my sixth, sent when I had but three of MD's. 
 
 /Letter VII. 
 
 London, Oct. 19, 1710. 
 
 faith, I am undone ! this paper is larger than the 
 other, and yet I am condemned to a sheet. I told you in 
 a letter to-day where I had been, and how the day past ; and 
 so, &c. 30 
 
25° SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 20. To-day I went to Mr. Lewis, at the secretary's office, 
 to know when I might see Mr. Harley; and by and by 
 comes up Mr. Harley himself, and appoints me to dine 
 with him to-morrow. I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and 
 
 5 went to wait on the two Lady Butlers ; but the porter 
 answered, they were not at home; the meaning was, the 
 youngest, Lady Mary, is to be married to-morrow to Lord 
 Ashburnham, the best match now in England, twelve 
 thousand pounds a-year, and abundance of money. Tell 
 
 10 me how my Shower is liked in Ireland : I never knew any 
 thing pass better here. I spent the evening with Wortley 
 Montagu and Mr. Addison, over a bottle of Irish wine. 
 Do they know any thing in Ireland of my greatness among 
 the Tories ? Every body reproaches me of it here ; but I 
 
 15 value them not. Have you heard of the verses about the 
 Rod of Sid Hamet ? Say nothing of them for your life. 
 Hardly any body suspects me for them, only they think 
 nobody but Prior or I could write them. But I doubt they 
 have not reached you. There is likewise a ballad, full of 
 
 20 puns, on the Westminster election, that cost me half an 
 hour : it runs, though it be good for nothing. But this is 
 likewise a secret to all but MD. If you have them not, I 
 will bring them over. 
 
 21. I got MD's fourth to-day at the coffeehouse. God 
 25 Almighty bless poor Stella, and her eyes and head : What 
 
 shall we do to cure them, poor dear life ? Your disorders 
 are a pull back for your good qualities. Pray do not write, 
 nor read this letter, nor any thing else, and I will write 
 plainer for Dingley to read, from henceforward, though my 
 
 30 pen is apt to ramble when I think who I am writing to. I 
 will not answer your letter until I tell you that 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 
 
 «:- Peterborough. I staid till nine before Mr. Harley. would 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 251 
 
 let me go, or tell me any thing of my affair. He says, the 
 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 5 
 a memorial from me, which Mr. Harley tells me he does to 
 make it look more respectful to me, &c. And I am to see 
 him on Tuesday. I know not whether I told you, that, in 
 my memorial which was given to the queen, I begged for 
 two thousand pounds a-year more, though it was not in my 10 
 commission ; but that Mr. Harley says cannot yet be done, 
 and that he and I must talk of it farther : however, I have 
 started it, and it may follow in time. Pray say nothing of 
 the first-fruits being granted, unless I give leave at the 
 bottom of this. I believe never any thing was compassed 15 
 so soon, and purely done by my personal credit with Mr. 
 Harley, who is so excessively 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. The memorial given to the queen from me speaks 20 
 with great plainness of Lord Wharton. * * * * 
 22. I was this morning with Mr. Lewis, the under 
 secretary to Lord Dartmouth, two hours talking politics, 
 and contriving to keep Steele in his office of stamped 
 paper : he has lost his place of Gazetteer, three hundred 25 
 pounds a-year, for writing a Tatler, some months ago, 
 against Mr. Harley, who gave it him at first, and raised the 
 salary from sixty to three hundred pounds. This was 
 devilish ungrateful; and Lewis was telling me the par- 
 ticulars : but I had a hint given me, that I might save him 30 
 in the other employment ; and leave was given me to clear 
 matters with Steele. Well, I dined with Sir Matthew 
 Dudley, and in the evening went to sit with Mr. Addison, 
 and offer the matter at distance to him, as the discreeter 
 
£52 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 person; but found party had so possessed him, that he 
 talked as if he suspected me, and would not fall in with 
 any thing I said. So I stopped short in my overture, and 
 we parted very dryly; and I shall say nothing to Steele, 
 
 S and let them do as they will ; but if things stand as they 
 are, he will certainly lose it, unless I save him ; and there- 
 fore I will not speak to him, that I may not report to his 
 disadvantage. Is not this . vexatious ? and is there so 
 much in the proverb of proffered service ? When shall I 
 
 ro grow wise ? I endeavour to act in the most exact points of 
 honour and conscience, and my nearest friends will not 
 understand it so. What must a man expect from his 
 enemies ? This would vex me, but it shall not ; and so I 
 bid you good night. 
 
 15 23. I know it is neither wit nor diversion to tell you 
 every day where I dine, neither do I write it to fill my 
 letter ; but I fancy I shall, some time or other, have the 
 curiosity of seeing some particulars how I passed my life 
 when I was absent from MD this time ; and so I tell you 
 
 20 now that I dined to-day at Molesworth's, the Florence 
 envoy, then went to the coffeehouse, where I behaved 
 myself coldly enough to Mr. Addison, and so came home 
 to scribble. We dine together to-morrow and next day by 
 invitation ; but I shall alter my behaviour to him, till he begs 
 
 25 my pardon, or else we shall grow bare acquaintance. I am 
 weary of friends, and friendships are all monsters, but MD's. 
 
 24. I forgot to tell you, that last night I went to Mr. 
 Harley's hoping — faith, I am blundering, for it was this 
 very night at six ; and I hoped he would have told me all 
 
 30 things were done and granted ; but he was abroad, and 
 came home ill, and was gone, to bed, much out of order, 
 unless the porter lied. I dined to-day at Sir Matthew 
 Dudley's with Mr. Addison, &c. 
 
 25. I was to-day to see the Duke of Ormondj and 
 
, JOURNAL TO STELLA. 253 
 
 corning out, met Lord Berkeley of Stratton, who told me, 
 that Mrs. Temple, the widow, died last Saturday, which, I 
 suppose, is much to the outward grief and inward joy of the 
 family, I dined to-day with Mr. Addison, and Steele, and 
 a sister of Mr. Addison, who is married to one Mons. 5 
 Sartre, a Frenchman, prebendary of Westminster, who has 
 a delicious house and garden ; yet I thought it was a sort of 
 a monastic life in those cloisters, and I liked Laracor better. 
 Addison's sister is a sort of a wit, very like him. I am not 
 fond of her. 10 
 
 26. 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 15 
 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 mentioning the gout. I find such suspicions fre- 
 quently, but they go off again. * * * * * 20 
 
 Now to Stella's little postscript ; and 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 think you are out of order. 
 Pray be quiet, and if you will write, shut your eyes, and 25 
 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 go too high 
 or too low. — My letters of business, with packets, if there 30 
 be any more occasion for such, must be enclosed to Mr, 
 Addison, at St. James's Coffeehouse : but I hope to hear, 
 as soon as I see Mr. Harley, that the main difficulties are 
 over, and that the rest will be but form. * * * * 
 
254 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 27. Mr. Rowe the poet desired me to dine with him 
 to-day. I went to his office, (he is under secretary in Mr. 
 Addison's place that he had in England.) and there was Mr. 
 Prior ; and they both fell commending my Shower beyond 
 
 5 any thing that has been written of the kind : there never 
 was such a Shower since Danae's, &c. You must tell me 
 how it is liked among you. I dined with Rowe; Prior 
 could not come : and after dinner we went to a blind 
 tavern, where Congreve, Sir Richard Temple, Eastcourt, 
 
 10 and Charles Main, were over a bowl of bad punch. The 
 knight sent for six flasks of his own wine for me, and we 
 staid till twelve. But now my head continues pretty well, : 
 I have left off my drinking, and only take a spoonful mixed 
 with water, for fear of the gout, or some ugly distemper/ 
 
 15 and now, because it is late, I will, &c. 
 
 28. Garth and Addison and I dined to-day at a hedge 
 tavern ; then I went to Mr. Harley, but he was denied, or 
 not at home ; so I fear I shall not hear my business is done 
 before this goes. Then I visited Lord Pembroke, who is 
 
 20 just come to town, and we were very merry talking of old; 
 things, and I hit him with one pun. Then I went to the 
 ladies Butler, and the rogue of a porter denied them; 
 so I sent them a threatening message by another lady, 
 for not excepting me always to the porter. I was weary 
 
 25 of the coffeehouse, and Ford desired me to sit with him 
 at next door, which I did, like a fool, chattering till 
 twelve, and now am got into bed. I am afraid the new 
 ministry is at a terrible loss about money : the Whigs 
 talk so it would give one the spleen : and I am afraid 
 
 30 of meeting Mr. Harley out of humour. They think he 
 will never carry through this undertaking. God knows 
 what will come of it. I should be terribly vexed 'to see 
 things come round again ; it will ruin the church and 
 clergy for ever; but I hope for better. I will send. this 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 355 
 
 on Tuesday, whether I hear any farther news of my affair 
 or not. 
 
 29. Mr. Addison and I dined to-day with Lord Mountjoy; 
 which is all the adventures of this day.— I chatted a while 
 to-night in the coffeehouse, this being a full night ; and 5 
 now am come home to write some business. * ' * * 
 
 Letter VIII. 
 
 London, Oct. 31, 1710. 
 
 So, now I have sent my seventh to your fourth, young 
 women ; and now I will tell you what I would not in my 
 last, that this morning, sitting in my bed, I had a fit of 
 giddiness : the room turned round for about a minute, and 10 
 then it went off, leaving me sickish, but not very : and so I 
 passed the day as I told you ; but I would not end a letter 
 with telling you this, because it might vex you : and I hope 
 in God I shall have no more of it. I saw Dr. Cockburn 
 to-day, and he promises to send me the pills that did me 15 
 good last year, and likewise has promised me an oil for my 
 ear, that he has been making for that ailment for somebody 
 else. 
 
 Nov. 1. I wish MD a merry new year. You know this 
 is the first day of it with us. I had no giddiness to-day, 20 
 but I drank brandy, and have bought a pint for two 
 shillings. I sat up the night before my giddiness pretty 
 late, and writ very much ; so I will impute it to that. But 
 I never eat fruit, nor drink ale, but drink better wine than 
 you do, as I did to-day with Mr. Addison at Lord Mount- 25 
 joy's : then went at five to see Mr. Harley, who could not 
 see me for much company ; but sent me his excuse, and 
 desired I would dine with him on Friday; and then I 
 expect some answer to this business, which must either be 
 soon done, or begun again ; and then the Duke of Ormond 30 
 
256 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 and his people will interfere for their honour, and do 
 nothing. I came home at six, and spent my time in my 
 chamber, without going to the coffeehouse, which I grow 
 weary of; and I studied at leisure, writ not above forty 
 5 lines, some inventions of my own, and some hints, and 
 read not at all, and this because I would take care of 
 Presto, for fear little MD should be angry. * * * 
 
 7. I dined to-day at Sir Richard Temple's, with Con- 
 greve, Vanbrugh, Lieutenant-General Farrington, &c. Van- 
 
 10 brugh, I believe I told you, had a long quarrel with me 
 about those verses on his house ; but we were very civil 
 and cold. Lady Marlborough used to tease him with 
 them, which had made him angry, though he be a good- 
 natured fellow. It was a thanksgiving day, and I was at 
 
 15 court, where the queen passed by us with all Tories about 
 her ; not one Whig : Buckingham, Rochester, Leeds, 
 Shrewsbury, Berkeley of Stratton, Lord Keeper Harcourt, 
 Mr. Harley, Lord Pembroke, &c, and I have seen her 
 without one Tory ! The queen made me a curtsy, and 
 
 20 said, in a sort of familiar way to Presto, How does MD ? 
 I considered she was a queen, and so excused her. I do not 
 miss the Whigs at court; but have as many acquaintance 
 there as formerly. 
 
 8. Here is ado and a clutter ! I must now answer MD's 
 25 fifth ; but first you must know I dined at the Portugal 
 
 envoy's to-day, with Addison, Vanbrugh, Admiral Wager, 
 Sir Richard Temple, Methuen, &c. I was weary of their 
 company, and stole away at five, and came home like a 
 good boy, and studied till ten, and had a fire ; O ho ! and 
 30 now am in bed. I have no fire-place in my bed-chamber ; 
 but it is very warm weather when one is in bed. Your 
 fine cap, Madam Dingley, is too little, and too hot : I will 
 have that fur taken off; I wish it were far enough ; and my 
 old velvet cap is good for nothing. Is it velvet under the 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 257 
 
 fur ? I was feeling, but cannot find : if it be, it will do 
 without it, else I will face it; but then I must buy new 
 velvet : but may be I may beg a piece. What shall I 4p2 
 well, now to rogue MD's letter. God be thanked for " 
 Stella's eyes mending ; and God send it holds ; but faith 5 
 you write too much at a time; better write less, or write it 
 at ten times. Yes, faith, a long letter in a morning from a 
 dear friend is a de^r thing. I smoke a compliment, little 
 mischievous girls, I do so. But who are those wiggs that 
 think I am turned Tory? Do you mean Whigg? Which i» 
 wiggs, and what do you mean ?***** 
 Mr. Harley speaks all the kind things to me in the 
 world; and I believe, would serve me, if I were to stay 
 here ; but I reckon in time the Duke of Ormond may give 
 me some addition to Laracor. Why should the Whigs 15 
 think I came to England to leave them ? Sure my journey 
 was no secret? I protest sincerely, I did all I could to 
 hinder it, as the dean can tell you, although now I do not 1 
 repent it. But who the devil cares what they think ? Am 
 I under obligations in the least to any of them all ? Rot 20 
 them, for ungrateful dogs ; I will make them repent their j 
 usage before I leave this place. They say here the same 
 thing of my leaving the Whigs ; but they own they cannot 
 blame me, considering the treatment I have had. 
 
 Letter IX. 
 
 London, Nov. 11, 1710. 
 
 I dined to-day, by invitation, with the Secretary of State, 25 
 Mr. St. John. Mr. Harley came in to us before dinner, 
 and made me his excuses for not dining with us, because 
 he was to receive people who came to propose advancing 
 money to the government : there dined with us only Mr. 
 Lewis, and Dr. Freind, that writ Lord Peterborough's 3° 
 
 vol. 1. s 
 
&58 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 actions in Spain. I staid with them till just now, between 
 ten and eleven, and was forced again to give my eighth to 
 the bellman, which I did with my own hands, rather than 
 keep it till next post. The secretary used me with all the 
 
 5 kindness in/ the world. Prior came in after dinner ; and 
 upon an occasion, he (the secretary) said, the best thing he 
 ever read is not yours, but Dr. Swift's on Vanbrugh ; which 
 I do not reckon so very good neither. But Prior was 
 damped until I stuffed him with two or three compliments: 
 
 10 I am thinking what a veneration we used to have for Sir 
 William Temple, because he might have been secretary of 
 state at fifty ; and here is a young fellow, hardly thirty, in 
 that employment. His father is a man of pleasure, that 
 walks the Mall, and frequents St. James's Coffeehouse, and 
 
 is the chocolate'houses, and the young son is principal secre- 
 tary of state. Is there not something very odd in that? 
 He told me, among other things, that Mr. Harley com- 
 plained he could keep nothing from me, I had the way so 
 much of getting into him. I knew that was a refinement; 
 
 20 and so I told him, and it was so : indeed it is hard to see 
 these great men use me like one who was their betters, and 
 the puppies with you in Ireland hardly regarding me : but 
 there are some reasons for all this, which I will tell you 
 when we meet. At coming home I saw a letter from your 
 
 25 mother, in answer to one I sent her two days ago. It 
 seems she is in town ; but cannot come out in a morning, 
 just as you said, and God knows when I shall be at leisure 
 in an afternoon : for if I should send her a penny-post 
 letter, and afterward not be able to meet her, it would vex 
 
 30 me ; and, besides, the days are short, and why she cannot 
 come early in a morning before she is wanted, I cannot 
 imagine. I will desire her to let Lady Giffard know that 
 she hears I am in town, and that she would go to see me 
 to inquire after you. I wonder she will confine herself so 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 259 
 
 much to that old beast's humour. You know I cannot in 
 honour see Lady Giffard, and consequently go not into her 
 house. This I think is enough for the first time. 
 
 12. And how could you write with such thin paper? 
 (I forgot to say this in my former.) Cannot you get 5 
 thicker? Why, that is a common caution that writing- 
 masters give their scholars ; you must have heard it a 
 hundred times. It is this, 
 
 If paper be thin, 
 
 Ink will slip in ; IO 
 
 But if it be thick, 
 
 You may write with a stick. 
 
 I had a letter to-day from poor Mrs. Long, giving me an 
 account of her present life, obscure in a remote country 
 town, and how easy she is under it. Poor creature ! it is 15 
 just such an alteration in life, as if Presto should be 
 banished from MD, and condemned to converse with 
 Mrs. Raymond. I dined to-day with Ford, Sir Richard 
 Levinge, &c, at a place where they board hard by. I was 
 lazy, and not very well, sitting so long with company 20 
 yesterday. I have been very busy writing this evening at 
 home, and had a fire: I am spending my second half 
 bushel of coals ; and now am in bed, and it is late. 
 
 13. I dined to-day in the city, and then went to christen 
 Will Frankland's child ; and Lady Falconbridge was one of 25 
 the godmothers : this is a daughter of Oliver Cromwell, 
 and extremely like him by his pictures that I have seen. I 
 staid till almost eleven, and am now come home and gone 
 to bed. My business in the city was to thank Stratford for 
 
 a kindness he has done me, which now I will tell you. I 30 
 found bank stock was fallen thirty-four in the hundred, and 
 was mighty desirous to buy it ; but I was a little too late 
 for the cheapest time, being hindered by business here ; 
 for I was so wise to guess to a day when it would fall. My 
 
 s 2 
 
260 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 project was this: I had three hundred pounds in Ireland; 
 and so I writ Mr. Stratford in the city, to desire he would 
 buy me three hundred pounds in bank stock, and that he 
 should keep the papers, and that I would be bound to pay 
 
 5 him for them ; and if it should rise or fall I would take my 
 -chance, and pay him interest in the mean time. I showed 
 my letter to one or two people, who understand those 
 things ; and they said, money was so hard to be got here 
 that no man would do it for me. However, Stratford, who 
 
 io is the most generous man alive, has done it : but it cost 
 one hundred pounds and a half, that is ten shillings, so 
 that three hundred pounds cost me three hundred pounds 
 and thirty shillings. This was done about a week ago, and 
 I can have five pounds for my bargain already. Before it 
 
 15 fell it was one hundred and thirty pounds, and we are sure 
 it will be the same again. I told you I writ to your mother 
 to desire that Lady Giffard would do the same with what 
 she owes you ; but she tells your mother she has no money. 
 I would to God all you had in the world was there. 
 
 20 Whenever you lend money, take this rule, to have two 
 people bound, who have both visible fortunes ; for they ■ 
 will hardly die together ; and when one dies, you fall upon 
 the other, and make him add another security : and if 
 Rathburn (now I have his name) pays you in your money 
 
 25 let me know, and I will direct Parvisol accordingly : how- 
 ever, he shall wait on you and know. So, ladies, enough 
 of business for one night. Paaaaast twelvwe o'clock. I 
 must only add, that, after a long fit of rainy weather, it has 
 been fair two or three days, and is this day grown cold and 
 
 30 frosty ; so that you must give poor little Presto leave to 
 have a fire in his chamber morning and evening too, and 
 he will do as much for you. * * * * * * 
 18. To-day I dined with Lewis and Prior at an eating- 
 house, but with Lewis's wine. Lewis went away, and Prior 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 3 6l 
 
 and I sat on, where we complimented one another for an 
 hour or two upon our mutual wit and poetry. Coming 
 home at seven, a gentleman unknown stopped me in the 
 Pall Mall, and asked my advice ; said he had been to see 
 the queen, (who was just come to town,) and the people in 5 
 waiting would not let him see her; that he had two 
 hundred thousand men ready to serve her in the war ; that 
 he knew the queen perfectly well, and had an apartment at 
 court, and if she heard he was there, she would send for 
 him immediately; that she owed him two hundred thou- 10 
 sand pounds, &c, and he desired my opinion whether he 
 should go try again whether he could see her ; or because, 
 perhaps, she was weary after her journey, whether he had 
 not better stay till to-morrow. I had a mind to get rid of 
 my companion, and begged him of all love to wait on her 15 
 immediately; for that, to my knowledge, the queen would 
 admit him ; that this was an affair of great importance, and 
 required dispatch : and I instructed him to let me know 
 the success of his business, and come to the Smyrna 
 Coffeehouse, where I would wait for him till midnight ; 20 
 and so ended this adventure. I would have fain given 
 the man half a crown ; but was afraid to offer it him, lest 
 he should be offended ; for, besides his money, he said he 
 had a thousand pounds a-year. I came home not early, 
 and so, madams both, good night, &c. * * * * 25 
 
 22. I dined with Secretary St. John; and Lord Dart- 
 mouth, who is the other secretary, dined with us, and 
 Lord Orrery and Prior, &c. Harley called, but could not 
 dine with us, and would have had me away while I was at 
 dinner; but I did not like the company he was to have. 30 
 We staid till eight, and I called at the coffeehouse, and 
 looked where the letters lie ; but no letter directed for Mr. 
 Presto : at last I saw a letter to Mr. Addison, and it looked 
 like a rogue's hand, so I made the fellow give it me, and 
 
26a SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 opened it before him, and saw three letters all for myself: 
 so, truly, I put them in my pocket, and came home to my 
 lodging. Well, and so you shall hear: well, and so I 
 found one of them in Dingley's hand, and the other in 
 5 Stella's, and the third in Domville's. Well, so you shall 
 hear : so, said I to myself, What now, two letters from MD 
 together? But I thought there was something in the wind; 
 so I opened one, and I opened the other; and so you 
 shall hear, one was from Walls. Well, but the other was 
 
 10 from own dear MD ; yes it was. O faith, have you re- 
 ceived my seventh, young women, already? then I must 
 send this to-morrow, else there will be old doings at our 
 house, faith. ******** 
 24. I tell you pretty management : Ned Southwell told 
 
 15 me the other day he had a letter from the bishops of 
 Ireland, with an address to the Duke of Ormond, to inter- 
 cede with the queen to take off the first-fruits. I dined 
 with him to-day, and saw it, with another letter to him 
 from the Bishop of Kildare, to call upon me for the papers, 
 
 20 &c, and I had last post one from the Archbishop of 
 Dublin, telling me the reason of this proceeding; that 
 upon hearing the Duke of Ormond was declared lord- 
 lieutenant, they met, and the bishops were for this project, 
 and talked coldly of my being solicitor, as one that was 
 
 25 favoured by the other party, &c, but desired that I would 
 still solicit. Now the wisdom of this is admirable; for I 
 had given the archbishop an account of my reception from 
 Mr. Harley, and how he had spoken to the queen, and 
 promised it should be done; but Mr. Harley ordered me 
 
 30 to tell no person alive. Some time after, he gave me leave 
 to let the primate and archbishop know that the queen had 
 remitted the first-fruits, and that in a short time they 
 should have an account of it in form from Lord Dart- 
 mouth, Secretary of State. So while their letter was on 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 263 
 
 the road to the Duke of Ormond and Southwell, mine was 
 going to them with an account of the thing being done. I 
 writ a very warm answer to the archbishop immediately, 
 and showed my resentment, as I ought, against the bishops, 
 only in good manners excepting himself. I wonder what 5 
 they will say when they hear the thing is done. I was 
 yesterday forced to tell Southwell so, that the queen had 
 done it, &c, for he said, my Lord Duke would think of it 
 some months hence when he was going for Ireland; and 
 he had it three years in doing formerly, without any 10 
 success. I give you free leave to say, on occasion, that it 
 is done, and that Mr. Harley prevailed on the queen to do 
 it, &c, as you please. As I hope to live, I despise the 
 credit of it, out of an excess of pride, and desire you will 
 not give me the least merit when you talk of it; but I 15 
 would vex the bishops, and have it spread that Mr. Harley 
 had done it : pray do so. Your mother sent me last night 
 a parcel of wax candles, arid a bandbox full of small plum- 
 cakes. I thought it had been something for you ; and, 
 without opening them, sent answer by the maid that brought 20 
 them, that I would take care to send the things, &c, but 
 I will write her thanks. Is this a long letter, sirrahs ? Now, 
 are you satisfied ? I have had no fit since the first : I drink 
 brandy every morning, and take pills every night. Never 
 fear, I an't vexed at this puppy business of the bishops, 25 
 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 Ireland that I have done nothing at all. 
 So goes the world. But I have got above all this, and, 30 
 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. 
 
264 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Letter X. 
 
 London, Nov. 25, 1710. 
 
 I will tell you something that is plaguy silly; I had 
 forgot to say on the 23d in my last, where I dined; and 
 because I had done it constantly, I thought it was a great 
 omission, and was going to interline it ; but at last the 
 
 S silliness of it made me cry pshah, and I let it alone. I was 
 to-day to see the parliament meet, but only saw a great 
 crowd ; and Ford and I went to see the tombs at Westmin- 
 ster, and sauntered so long I was forced to go to an eating- 
 house for my dinner. Bromley is chosen speaker, nemine 
 
 10 contradicente : Do you understand those two words ? and 
 Pompey, Colonel Hill's black, designs to stand speaker for 
 the footmen. I am engaged to use my interest for him, 
 and have spoken to Patrick to get him some votes. We 
 are now all impatient for the queen's speech, what she will 
 
 15 say about removmg the ministry, &c. I have got a cold, 
 and I do not know how ; but got it I have, and am hoarse : 
 I do not know whether it will grow better or worse. What 
 is that to you ? I will not answer your letter to-night. I 
 will keep you a little longer in suspense : I cannot send it. 
 
 20 Your mother's cakes are very good, and one of them serves 
 me for breakfast, and so I will go sleep like a good boy. 
 
 27. To-day Mr. Harley met me in the Court of Requests, 
 and whispered me to dine with him. At dinner I told him 
 what those bishops had done, and the difficulty I was 
 25 under. He bid me never trouble myself; he would tell 
 the Duke of Ormond the business was done, and that he 
 need not concern himself about it. So now I am easy, and 
 they may hang themselves for a parcel of insolent ungrateful 
 rascals. I suppose I told you in my last how they sent an 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 265 
 
 address to the Duke of Ormond, and a Jetter to Southwell, 
 to call on me for the papers, after the thing was over ; but 
 they had not received my letter, though the archbishop 
 might, by what I writ to him, have expected it would be 
 done. Well, there is an end of that, and in a little time the 5 
 queen will send them notice, &c. And so the methods will 
 be settled, and then I shall think of returning, although the 
 baseness of those bishops makes me love Ireland less than 
 I did. 
 
 28. Lord Halifax sent to invite me to dinner, where 10 
 I staid till six, and crossed him in all his Whig talk, and 
 made him often come over to me. I know he makes 
 court to the new men. although he affects to talk like 
 a Whig ********* 
 
 Faith, I will come as soon as it is any way proper for me 15 
 to come ; but, to say the truth, I am at present a little 
 involved with the present ministry in some certain things, 
 (which I tell you as a secret ;) as soon as ever I can clear 
 my hands, I will stay no longer : for I 'hope the first-fruit 
 business will be soon over in all its forms. But, to say 20 
 the truth, the present ministry have a difficult task, and 
 want me, &c. Perhaps they may be just as grateful as 
 others : but, according to the best judgment I have, they 
 are pursuing the true interest of the public ; and therefore 
 I am glad to contribute what is in my power. For God's 25 
 sake, not a word of this to any alive. * * * 
 
 Dec. 2. Steele, the rogue, has done the impudentest 
 thing in the world : he said something in a Tatler, that we 
 ought to use the word Great Britain, and not England, in 
 common conversation, as, the finest lady in Great Britain, 30 
 &c. Upon this Rowe, Prior, and I, sent him a letter, 
 turning this into ridicule. He has to-day printed the letter, 
 and signed it J. S. M. P. and N. R. the first letters of our 
 names. Congreve told me to-day, he smoked it immediately. 
 
266 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Congreve and I and Sir Charles Wager dined to-day at 
 Delaval's, the Portugal envoy ; and I staid there till eight, 
 and came home, and am now writing to you before I do 
 business, because that dog Patrick is not at home, and the 
 5 fire is not made, and I am not in my gear. Plague take 
 him ! — I was looking by chance at the top of this side, and 
 find I make plaguy mistakes in words ; so that you must 
 fence against that as well as bad writing. Faith, I cannot 
 nor will not read what I have written. (Plague of this puppy !) 
 
 10 Well, I will leave you till I am got to bed, and then I will 
 say a word or two. — Well, it is now almost twelve, and I 
 have been busy ever since, by a fire too, (I have my coals 
 by half a bushel at a time, I will assure you,) and now I am 
 got to bed. Well, and what have you to say to Presto now 
 
 1 5 he is abed ? Come now, let us hear your speeches. No, it 
 is a lie, I am not sleepy yet. Let us sit up a little longer, 
 and talk. Well, where have you been to-day, that you are 
 but just this minute come home in a coach ? What have 
 you lost ? Pay the coachman, Stella. No, faith, not I, he 
 
 20 will grumble. — What new acquaintance have you got? 
 come, let us hear. I have made Delaval promise to send 
 me some Brazil tobacco from Portugal for you, Madam 
 Dingley. I hope you will have your chocolate and 
 spectacles before this comes to you. 
 
 25 3. Pshaw, I must be writing to those dear saucy brats 
 every night, whether I will or no, let me have what business 
 I will, or come home ever so late, or be ever so sleepy; but 
 an old saying and a true one, 
 
 Be you lords, or be you earls, 
 30 You must write to naughty girls. 
 
 I was to-day at court, and saw Raymond among the 
 beef-eaters, staying to see the queen ; so I put him in a 
 better station, made two or three dozen of bows, and went 
 to church, and then to court again to pick up a dinner, 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 2,67 
 
 as I did with Sir John Stanley, and then we went to visit 
 Lord Mountjoy, and just now left him, and it is near eleven 
 at night, young women, and methinks this letter comes 
 pretty near to the bottom, and it is but eight days since 
 the date, and do not think I will write on the other side, 5 
 I thank you for nothing. Faith, if I would use you to 
 letters on sheets as broad as this room, you would always 
 expect them from me. O, faith, I know you well enough ; 
 but any old saying, &c, 
 
 Two sides in a sheet, 10 
 
 And one in a street. 
 
 I think that is but a silly old saying, and so I will go to 
 sleep, and do you so too. ****** 
 
 6. When is this letter to go, I wonder : hearkee, young 
 woman, tell me that? Saturday next for certain, and not 15 
 before : then it will be just a fortnight ; time enough for 
 naughty girls, and long enough for two letters, faith. 
 Congreve and Delaval have at last prevailed on Sir Godfrey 
 Kneller to entreat me to let him draw my picture for 
 nothing ; but I know not yet when I shall sit. — It is such 20 
 monstrous rainy weather, that there is no doing with it. 
 Secretary St. John sent to me this morning, that my dining 
 with him to-day was put off till to-morrow ; so I peaceably 
 sat with my neighbour Ford, dined with him, and came 
 home at six, and am now in bed as usual ■ and now it is ,25 
 time to have another letter from MD, yet I would not have \ 
 it till this goes ; for that would look like two letters for one. 
 
 8. To-day I dined with Mr. Harley and Prior; but 
 Mr. St. John did not come, though he promised ; he chid 
 
 me for not seeing him oftener. Here is a d d libellous 30 
 
 pamphlet come out against Lord Wharton, giving the 
 character first, and then telling some of his actions : the 
 
268 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 character is very well, but the facts indifferent. It has 
 been sent by dozens to several gentlemen's lodgings, and 
 I had one or two of them, but nobody knows the author 
 or printer. We are terribly afraid of the plague ; they say 
 5 it is at Newcastle. I begged Mr. Harley, for the love of 
 God, to take some care about it, or we are all ruined. 
 There have been orders for all ships from the Baltic to 
 pass their quarantine before they land ; but they neglect it. 
 You remember I have been afraid these two years. 
 
 Letter XI. 
 
 &#$$&$:£:(: 
 
 10 Dec. 14, 1710. Stay, I will answer some of your letter this 
 morning in bed : let me see ; come and appear, little letter. 
 Here I am, says he, and what say you to Mrs. MD this 
 morning, fresh and fasting ? who dares think MD negligent? 
 I allow them a fortnight, and they give it me. I could fill 
 
 15 a letter in a week ; but it is longer every day, and so I keep 
 it a fortnight, and then it is cheaper by one half. I have 
 never been giddy, dear Stella, since that morning : I have 
 taken a whole box of pills every night, and drank a pint 
 of brandy at mornings. — O then, you kept Presto's little 
 
 20 birthday : would to God I had been with you. I forgot it, 
 as I told you before. Rediculous, madam ? I suppose you 
 mean ridiculous : let me have no more of that ; it is the 
 author of the Atalantis's spelling. I have mended it in your 
 letter. And can Stella read this writing without hurting her 
 
 25 dear eyes? O, faith, I am afraid not. Have a care of those 
 eyes, pray, pray, pretty Stella. — It is well enough what you 
 observe, That if I writ better, perhaps you would not read 
 so well, being used to this manner ; it is an alphabet you 
 are used to ; you know such a pothook makes a letter ; and 
 
 30 you know what letter, and so and so. * * * * 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 369 
 
 At night. I went to-day to the Court of Requests (I will 
 not answer the rest of your letter yet, that by the way) in 
 hopes to dine with Mr. Harley : but Lord Dupplin, his 
 son-in-law, told me he did not dine at home ; so I was at a 
 loss, until I met with Mr. Secretary St. John, and went 5 
 home and dined with him, where he told me of a good bite. 
 Lord Rivers told me two days ago, that he was resolved 
 to come Sunday fortnight next to hear me preach before 
 the queen. I assured him the day was not yet fixed, and 
 I knew nothing of it. To-day the secretary told me that 10 
 his father, (Sir Harry St. John,) and Lord Rivers, were to 
 be at St. James's church to hear me preach there; and 
 were assured I was to preach : so there will be another bite ; 
 for I know nothing of the matter, but that Mr. Harley and 
 St. John are resolved I must preach before the queen, and 15 
 the secretary of state has told me he will give me three weeks' 
 warning ; but I desired to be excused, which he will not. 
 St. John, ' you shall not be excused : ' however, I hope they 
 will forget it ; for, if it should happen, all the puppies here- 
 abouts will throng to hear me, and expect something 20 
 wonderful, and be plaguily balked, for I shall preach plain 
 honest stuff. I staid with St. John till eight, and then 
 came home, and Patrick desired leave to go abroad, and 
 by and by comes up the girl to tell me a gentleman was 
 below in a coach who had a bill to pay me ; so I let him 25 
 come up, and who should it be but Mr. Addison and Sam 
 Dopping, to haul me out to supper, where I have staid till 
 twelve. If Patrick had been at home I should have escaped 
 this ; for I have taught him to deny me almost as well as 
 Mr. Harley's porter. * * * * * * * 3° 
 
 Mr. Addison and I are different as black and white, and 
 I believe our friendship will go off, by this damned business 
 pf party : he cannot bear seeing me fall in so with this 
 ministry; but I love him still as well as ever, though we 
 
370 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 seldom meet. — Hussy, Stella, you jest about poor Congreve's 
 eyes ; you do so, hussy, but I will bang your bones, faith. — 
 Yes, Steele was a little while in prison, or at least in a 
 spunging-house, some time before I came, but not since. 
 ******** 
 
 5 15. Lord, what a long day's writing was yesterday's 
 answer to your letter, sirrahs. I dined to-day with Lewis 
 and Ford, whom I have brought acquainted. Lewis told 
 me a pure thing. I had been hankering with Mr. Harley 
 to save Steele his other employment, and have a little 
 
 10 mercy on him, and I had been saying the same thing to 
 Lewis, who is Mr. Harley's chief favourite. Lewis tells 
 Mr. Harley how kindly I should take it, if he would be 
 reconciled to Steele, &c. Mr. Harley, on my account, falls 
 in with it, and appoints Steele a time to let him attend him, 
 
 15 which Steele accepts with great submission, but never 
 comes, nor sends any excuse. Whether it was blundering, 
 sullenness, insolence, or rancour of party, I cannot tell ; 
 but I shall trouble myself no more about him. I believe 
 Addison hindered him out of mere spite, being grated to 
 
 20 the soul to think he should ever want my help to save his 
 friend ; yet now he is soliciting me to make another of his 
 friends queen's secretary at Geneva : and I will do it if I 
 can ; it is poor Pastoral Philips. ***** 
 
 Letter XII. 
 
 Jan. 1, 1710-11. Morning. I wish my dearest, pretty 
 25 MD a happy new year, and health, and mirth, and good 
 stomachs, and Fr's company. Faith, I did not know how 
 to write Fr. I wondered what was the matter ; but now I 
 remember I always write Pdfr. * * So, good morrow, my 
 mistresses all. 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 271 
 
 I wish you both a merry new year, 
 Roast beef, mince pies, and good strong beer, 
 And me a share of your good cheer. 
 That I was there, or you were here, 
 And you are a little saucy dear. 5 
 
 ******** 
 
 Jan. 2. I went this morning early to the Secretary of 
 State, Mr. St. John, and he told me from Mr. Harley that 
 the warrant was now drawn, in order for a patent for the 
 first-fruits : it must pass through several offices, and take up 
 some time, because in things the queen gives, they are 10 
 always considerate; but that he assures me it is granted 
 and done, and past all dispute, and desires I will not be in 
 any pain at all. * * I dined with Mr. Secretary St. John, 
 and at six went to Darteneuf's house to drink punch with 
 him, and Mr. Addison, and little Harrison, a young poet, 15 
 whose fortune I am making. Steele was to have been 
 there, but came not, nor never did twice, since I knew him, 
 to any appointment. I staid till past eleven, and am now 
 in bed. Steele's last Tatler came out to-day. You will see 
 it before this comes to you, and how he takes leave of the 20 
 world. He never told so much as Mr. Addison of it, who 
 was surprised as much as I; but to say the truth, it was 
 time, for he grew cruel dull and dry. To my knowledge 
 he had several good hints to go upon ; but he was so lazy 
 and weary of the work, that he would not improve them. 25 
 I think I will send this after to-morrow : shall I before it is 
 full, Dingley? 
 
 3. Lord Peterborough yesterday called me into a barber's 
 shop, and there we talked deep politics : he desired me to 
 dine with him to-day at the Globe in the Strand ; he said 30 
 he would show me so clearly how to get Spain that I could 
 not possibly doubt it. I went to-day accordingly, and saw 
 him among half a dozen lawyers and attomies and hang 
 dogs, signing deeds and stuff before his journey; for he 
 
272 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 goes to-morrow to Vienna. I sat among that scurvy 
 company till after four, but heard nothing of Spain ; only 
 I find, by what he told me before, that he fears he shall do 
 no good in his present journey. We are to be mighty 
 5 constant correspondents. So I took my leave of him, and 
 called at Sir Andrew Fountaine's, who mends much. 
 
 Letter XIII. 
 
 Jan. 6, 1710-n. At night. I was this morning to visit 
 the dean, or Mr. Prolocutor, I think you call him, do not 
 you ? Why should I not go to the dean's as well as you ? 
 
 10 A little black man of pretty near fifty? Ay, the same. A 
 good, pleasant man? Ay, the same. Cunning enough? 
 Yes. One that understands his own interest ? As well as 
 anybody. How comes it MD and I do not meet there 
 sometimes ? A very good face, and abundance of wit ; do 
 
 15 you know his lady ? O Lord, whom do you mean ? I mean 
 Dr. Atterbury, dean of Carlisle, and prolocutor. Pshaw, 
 Presto, you are a fool ; I thought you had meant one dean 
 of St. Patrick's. Silly, silly, silly, you are silly, both are 
 silly, every kind of thing is silly. * * 
 
 20 Jan. 7. I must talk politics. I protest I am afraid we 
 shall all be embroiled with parties. The Whigs, now they 
 are fallen, are the most malicious toads in the world. We 
 have had now a second misfortune, the loss of several 
 Virginia ships. I fear people will begin to think that 
 
 25 nothing thrives under this ministry : and if the ministry 
 can once be rendered odious to the people, the parliament 
 may be chosen Whig or Tory, as the queen pleases. Then 
 I think our friends press a little too hard on the Duke of 
 Marlborough. The country members are violent to have 
 
 30 past faults inquired into, and they have reason ; but I do not 
 observe the ministry to be very fond of it. In my opinion, 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 273 
 
 we have nothing to save us but a peace, and I am sure we 
 cannot have such a one as we hoped, and then the Whigs 
 will bawl what they would have done had they continued 
 in power. I tell the ministry this as much as I dare, and 
 shall venture to say a little more to them, especially about 5 
 the Duke of Marlborough, who, as the Whigs give out, will 
 lay down his command ; and I question whether ever any 
 wise state laid aside a general who had been successful 
 nine years together, whom the enemy so much dreaded, 
 and his own soldiers cannot but believe must always 10 
 conquer ; and you know that in war opinion is nine parts 
 in ten. The ministry hear me always with appearance of 
 regard, and much kindness ; but I doubt they let personal 
 quarrels mingle too much with their proceedings. Mean- 
 time, they seem to value all this as nothing, and are as easy 15 
 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. * * * 
 
 11. I am setting up a new Tatler, little Harrison, whom 
 
 I have mentioned to you. Others have put him on it, and 20 
 I encourage him; and he was with me this morning and 
 evening, showing me his first, which comes out on Saturday. 
 I doubt he will not succeed, for I do not much approve 
 his manner; but the scheme is Mr. Secretary St. John's 
 and mine, and would have done well enough in good hands. 25 
 I recommended him to a printer, whom I sent for, and 
 settled the matter between them this evening. Harrison 
 has just left me, and I am tired with correcting his trash. 
 
 12. I was this morning upon some business with Mr. 
 Secretary St. John, and he made me promise to dine with 30 
 him, which otherwise I would have done with Mr. Harley, 
 whom I have not been with these ten days. I cannot but 
 think they have mighty difficulties upon them ; yet I always 
 find them as easy and disengaged as schoolboys on a 
 
 vol. 1. T 
 
374 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 holiday. Harley has the procuring of five or six millions 
 on his shoulders, and the Whigs will not lend a groat; 
 which is the only reason of the fall of stocks : for they are 
 like Quakers and fanatics, that will only deal among them- 
 5 selves, while all others deal indifferently with them. Lady 
 Marlborough offers, if they will let her keep her employ- 
 ments, never to come into the queen's presence. The 
 Whigs say the Duke of Marlborough will serve no more; 
 but I hope and think otherwise. I would to Heaven I 
 10 were this minute with MD at Dublin ; for I am weary of 
 
 politics that give me such melancholy prospects. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Letter XIV. 
 
 London, January 16, 1710-11. 
 
 O faith, young women, I have sent my letter N. 13, 
 without one crumb of an answer to any of MD's; there 
 is for you now ; and yet Presto ben't angry faith, not a bit, 
 
 J15 only he will begin to be in pain next Irish post, except he 
 sees MD's little handwriting in the glass frame at the bar 
 of St. James's Coffeehouse, where Presto would never go 
 but for that purpose. Presto's at home, God help him, 
 every night from six till bed time, and has as little enjoyment 
 
 40 or pleasure in life at present as any body in the world, 
 although in full favour with all the ministry. As hope 
 saved, nothing gives Presto any sort of dream of happiness, 
 but a letter now and then from his own dearest MD. I 
 love the expectation of it, and when it does not come, 
 
 25 I comfort myself that I have it yet to be happy with. 
 Yes, faith, and when I write to MD, I am happy too ; it 
 is just as if methinks you were here, and I prating to you, 
 and telling you where I have been : Well, says you, Presto, 
 come, where have you been to-day ? come, let's hear now. 
 
 go And so then I answer; Ford and I were visiting Mr. Lewis, 
 
• JOURNAL TO STELLA. 275 
 
 and Mr. Prior, and Prior has given me a fine Plautus, and 
 then Ford would have had me dine at his lodgings, and so 
 I would not ; and so I dined with him at an eating-house ; 
 which I have not done five times since I came here ; and 
 so I came home, after visiting Sir Andrew Fountaine's 5 
 mother and sister, and Sir Andrew Fountaine is mending, 
 though slowly. ******** 
 
 Letter XV. 
 
 London, Jan. 31, 1710-11. 
 
 I am to send you my fourteenth to-morrow, but my head 
 having some little disorder, confounds my journals. I was 
 early this morning with Mr. Secretary St. John, about some 10 
 business, so I could not scribble my morning lines to MD. 
 They are here intending to tax all little printed penny 
 papers a halfpenny every half sheet, which will utterly ruin 
 Grub Street, and I am endeavouring to prevent it. * * We 
 are here in as smart a frost for the time as I have seen ; 15 
 delicate walking weather, and the Canal and Rosamond's 
 Pond full of the rabble sliding, and with skates, if you 
 know what those are. Patrick's bird's water freezes in 
 the gallipot, and my hands in bed. 
 
 Feb. 1. I was this morning with poor Lady Kerry, who 20 
 is much worse in her head than I. She sends me bottles 
 of her bitter, and we are so fond of one another, because 
 our ailments are the same ; do not you know that, Madam 
 Stell? have not I seen you conning ailments with Joe's wife, 
 and some others, sirrah? I walked into the city to dine, 25 
 because of the walk; for we must take care of Presto's 
 health, you know, because of poor little MD. But I walked 
 plaguy carefully, for fear of sliding against my will ; but I 
 am very busy. 
 
 2. This morning Mr. Ford came to me to walk into the 30 
 city, where he had business, and then to buy books at 
 
 T 2 
 
276 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Bateman's ; and I laid out one pound five shillings for a 
 Strabo and Aristophanes, and I have now got books enough 
 to make me another shelf, and I will have more, or it shall 
 cost me a fall ; and so as we came back, we drank a flask 
 5 of right French wine at Ben Tooke's chamber ; and when 
 I had got home, Mrs. Vanhomrigh sent me word her eldest 
 daughter was taken suddenly very ill, and desired I would 
 come and see her ; I went, and found it was a silly trick 
 of Mrs. Armstrong, Lady Lucy's sister, who, with Moll 
 
 10 Stanhope, was visiting there : however, I rattled off the 
 daughter. 
 
 3. To-day I went and dined at Lady Lucy's, where you 
 know I have not been this long time; they are plaguy 
 Whigs, especially the sister Armstrong, the most insupport- 
 
 15 able of all women pretending to wit, without any taste. 
 She was running down the last Examiner, the prettiest 
 I had read, with a character of the present ministry. I 
 left them at five, and came home. But I forgot to tell you, 
 that this morning, my cousin, Dry den Leach, the printer, 
 
 20 came to me with a heavy complaint, that Harrison, the new 
 Tatler, had turned him off, and taken the last Tatter's 
 printers again. He vowed revenge; I answered gravely, 
 and so he left me, and I have ordered Patrick to deny me 
 to him from henceforth : and at night comes a letter from 
 
 25 Harrison, telling me the same thing, and excused his doing 
 it without my notice, because he would bear all the blame ; 
 and in his Tatler of this day he tells you the story, how he 
 has taken his old officers, and there is a most humble letter 
 from Morphew and Lilly, to beg his pardon, &c. And 
 
 30 lastly, this morning Ford sent me two letters from the 
 coffeehouse, (where I hardly ever go,) one from the Arch- 
 bishop of Dublin, and the other from . Who do you 
 
 think the other was from? I will tell you, because 
 
 you are friends ; why then it was, faith it was from my own 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 277 
 
 dear little MD, N. 10. O, but will not answer it now, no, 
 noooooh, I will keep it between the two sheets ; here it is, 
 just under : O, I lifted up the sheet and saw it there : lie 
 still, you shall not be answered yet, little letter ; for I must 
 go to bed, and take care of my head. 5 
 
 4. I avoid going to church yet, for fear of my head, 
 though it has been much better these last five or six days, 
 since I have taken Lady Kerry's bitter. Our frost holds 
 like a dragon. I went to Mr. Addison's, and dined with 
 him at his lodgings ; I had not seen him these three weeks ; 10 
 we are grown common acquaintance : yet what have not I 
 done for his friend Steele? Mr. Harley reproached me 
 the last time I saw him, that to please me, he would be 
 reconciled to Steele, and had promised and appointed to 
 see him, and that Steele never came. Harrison, whom is 
 Mr. Addison recommended to me, I have introduced to 
 the Secretary of State, who has promised me to take care 
 of him ; and I have represented Addison himself 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 20 
 is an end ; and I never had the least obligation to him, and 
 there is another end. 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 25 
 them. Patrick has been out of favour these ten days ; I 
 talk dry and cross to him, and have called him friend three 
 or four times. But, sirrahs, get you gone. * * 
 
 6. Mr. Harley desired I would dine with him again 
 to-day ; but I refused him, for I fell out with him yesterday, 30 
 and will not see him again till he makes me amends ; and 
 so I go to bed. 
 
 7. I was this morning early with Mr. Lewis of the 
 secretary's office, and saw a letter Mr. Harley had sent 
 
278 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 to him, desiring to be reconciled ; but I was deaf to all 
 entreaties, and have desired Lewis to go to him, and let 
 him know I expect farther satisfaction. If we let these 
 great ministers pretend too much, there will be no govern- 
 5 ing 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. I will tell you the cause of 
 our quarrel when I see you, and refer it to yourselves. In 
 short he did something; which he intended for a favour, and 
 
 10 I have taken it quite otherwise, disliking both the thing 
 and the manner, and it has heartily vexed me, and all 
 I have said is truth, though it looks like jest: and I 
 absolutely refused to submit to his intended favour, and 
 expect farther satisfaction. Mr. Ford' and I dined with 
 
 15 Mr. Lewis. We have a monstrous deal of snow, and' it 
 has cost me two shillings to-day in chair and coach, and 
 walked till I was dirty besides. I know not what it is now 
 to read or write after I am in bed. The last thing I do up 
 is to write something to our MD, and then get into bed, 
 
 20 and put out my candle, and so go sleep as fast as ever I 
 can. But in the mornings I do write sometimes in bed, as 
 you know. ******** 
 
 Letter XVI. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Feb. 13, 1710-n. I have taken Mr. Harley into favour 
 
 again, and called to see him, but he was not within ; I will use 
 
 25 to visit him after dinner, for he dines too late for my head : 
 
 then I went to visit poor Congreve, who is just getting out 
 
 of a severe fit ofahe gout, and I sat with him till 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 
 
 30 was grown rich, and went and bought a coat of arms at the 
 
 Herald's, and a set of ancestors at Fleet : ditch j it is well 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 279 
 
 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. 
 
 ********* 
 
 1 6. I went to-day into the city for a walk, but the person 
 
 1 designed to dine with was not at home : so I came back 5 
 and called at Congreve's, and dined with him and Estcourt, 
 and laughed till six, then went to Mr. Harley's, who was not 
 gone to dinner ; there I staid till nine, and we made up our 
 quarrel, and he has invited me to dinner to-morrow, which 
 is the day of the week (Saturday) that Lord-keeper and io 
 Secretary St. John dine with him privately, and at last they 
 have consented to let me among them on that day. Atter- 
 bury and Prior went to bury poor Dr. Duke. Congreve's 
 nasty white wine has given me the heartburn. 
 
 17. I took some good walks in the Park to-day, and then is 
 went to Mr. Harley. Lord Rivers was got there before me, 
 and I chid him for presuming to come on a day when only 
 lord-keeper, the secretary, and I were to be there ; but he 
 regarded me not ; so we all dined together, and sat down at 
 four ; and the secretary has invited me to dine with him 20 
 to-morrow. I told them I had no hopes they could ever 
 keep in, but that I saw they loved one another so well, as 
 indeed they seem to do. They call me nothing but 
 Jonathan ; and I said, I believed they would leave me 
 Jonathan, as they found me ; and that I never knew a 25 
 ministry do any thing for those whom they made com- 
 panions of their pleasures ; and I believe you will find it so; 
 but I care not. I am upon a project of getting five hundred 
 pounds, without being obliged to any body ; but that is a 
 secret, till I see my dearest MD ; and so hold your tongue, 30 
 and do not talk, sirrahs, for I am now about it. 
 
 18. My head has no fits, but a little disordered before 
 dinner; yet I walk stoutly, and take pills, and hope to 
 
280 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 mend. Secretary St. John would needs have me dine with 
 him to-day, and there I found three persons I never saw, 
 two I had no acquaintance with, and one I did not care 
 for : so I left them early, and came home, it being no day 
 5 to walk, but scurvy rain and wind. The secretary tells me 
 he has put a cheat on me ; for Lord Peterborough sent him 
 twelve dozen flasks of Burgundy, on condition that I should 
 have my share ; but he never was quiet till they were all 
 gone ; so I reckon he owes me thirty-six pounds. Lord 
 
 10 Peterborough is now got to Vienna, and I must write to 
 him to-morrow. I begin now to be toward looking for a 
 letter from some certain ladies of Presto's acquaintance, 
 that live at St. Mary's, and are called, in a certain language, 
 our little MD. No, stay, I do not expect "one these six 
 
 15 days, that will be just three weeks ; an't I a reasonable 
 creature ? We are plagued here with an October Club ; 
 that is, a set of above a hundred parliamentmen of the 
 country, who drink October beer at home, and meet every 
 evening at a tavern near the parliament, to consult affairs, 
 
 20 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. I will tell you one great state 
 
 25 secret ; the queen, sensible how much she was governed 
 by the late ministry, runs a little into the other extreme, 
 and is jealous in that point, even of those who got her out 
 of the other's hands. The ministry is for gentler measures, 
 and the other Tories for more violent. Lord Rivers, talking 
 
 30 to me the other day, cursed the paper called The Examiner, 
 for speaking civilly of the Duke of Marlborough: this I 
 happened 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. 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 28 1 
 
 Letter XVII. 
 
 ******** 
 
 March 4, 1710-11. I 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, every thing depends upon it. The parliament at 
 present cannot go a step without him, nor the queen neither. 5 
 I long to be in Ireland ; but the ministry beg me to stay : 
 however, when this parliament hurry is over, I will en- 
 deavour to steal away; by which time I hope the first-fruit 
 business will be done. This kingdom is certainly ruined, 
 as much as was ever any bankrupt merchant. We must 10 
 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 stands like an isthmus 15 
 between the Whigs on 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. Lord Somers has been twice in the queen's closet, 
 once very lately; and your Duchess of Somerset, who now 20 
 has the key, is a most insinuating woman, and I believe 
 they will endeavour to play the same game that has been 
 played against them. I have told them of all this, which 
 they know already, but they cannot help it. They have 
 cautioned the queen so much against being governed, that 25 
 she observes it too much. 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 30 
 mind to me gave him ease. * * 
 
 7. * * Yes, I do read the Examiners, and they are 
 
283 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 written very finely as you judge. I do not think they are 
 too severe on the Duke ; they only tax him of avarice, and 
 his avarice has ruined us. * * And so you say, Stella's a 
 pretty girl ; and so she be, and methinks I see her now as 
 5 handsome as the day is long. Do you know what? When 
 I am writing in our language, I make up my mouth, just as 
 if I were speaking it. I caught myself at it just now. * * * 
 8. O dear MD, my heart is almost broken. You will 
 hear the thing before this comes to you. I writ a full 
 
 io account of it this night to the Archbishop of Dublin ; and 
 the dean may tell you the particulars from the archbishop. 
 I was in a sorry way to write, but thought it might be 
 proper to send a true account of the fact ; for you will hear 
 a thousand lying circumstances. It is of Mr. Harley's 
 
 15 being stabbed this afternoon at three o'clock at a committee 
 of the council. I was playing Lady Catherine Morris's 
 cards, where I dined, when young Arundel came in with 
 the story. I ran away immediately to the secretary, which 
 was in my way : no one was at home. I met Mrs. St. John 
 
 20 in her chair ; she had heard it imperfectly. I took a chair 
 to Mr. Harley, who was asleep, and they hope in no 
 danger ; but he has been out of order, and was so when he 
 came abroad to-day, and it may put him in a fever : I am 
 in mortal pain for him. That desperate French villain, 
 
 25 Marquis de Guiscard, stabbed Mr. Harley. Guiscard was 
 taken up by Mr. Secretary St. John's warrant for high 
 treason, and brought before the lords to be examined; 
 there he stabbed Mr. Harley. I have told all the par- 
 ticulars already to the archbishop. I have now at nine 
 
 30 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 Popish villain. Good night, and God 
 preserve you both, and pity me ; I want it. 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 383 
 
 9. 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 : he felt a pain in his wound 
 when he waked : they apprehend him in no danger. This 
 account the surgeon left with the porter, to tell people that 5 
 send. Pray God preserve him. I am rising and going to 
 Mr. Secretary St. John. They say Guiscard will die with 
 the wounds Mr. St. John and the rest gave him. I shall 
 tell you more at night. — Night. Mr. Harley still continues 
 on the mending hand ; but he rested ill last night, and felt 10 
 pain. I was early with the secretary this morning, and I 
 dined with him, and he told me several particularities of 
 this accident, too long to relate now. Mr. Harley is still 
 mending this evening, but not at all out of danger ; and 
 till then I can have no peace. Good night, &c, and pity 15 
 Presto. 
 
 10. Mr. Harley was restless last night ; but he has no 
 fever, and the hope of mending increases. * * * 
 
 Letter XVIII. 
 
 London, March 10, 1710-11. 
 
 Pretty little MD must expect little from me till Mr. 
 Harley is out of danger. We hope he is so now : but I am 20 
 subject to fear for my friends. He has a head full of the 
 whole business of the nation, was out of order when the 
 villain stabbed him, and had a cruel contusion by the 
 second blow. But all goes well on yet. Mr. Ford and I 
 dined with Mr. Lewis, and we hope the best. 25 
 
 11. This morning 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, and I think it is foolish in me 30 
 
284 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 to be so much in pain as I am. I had the penknife in my 
 hand, which is broken within a quarter of an inch of the 
 handle. I have a mind to write and publish an account of 
 all the particularities of this fact : it will be very curious, 
 5 and I would do it when Mr. Harley is past danger. 
 
 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 
 
 jo 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 be can help them in. Pray God preserve him. 
 
 13. Mr. Harley is better to-day, slept well all night, and 
 15 we are a little out of our fears. I send and call three or 
 
 four times every day. ******* 
 
 Letter XIX. 
 
 ******** 
 
 April 3, 17 1 1. I called at Mr. Secretary, to see what the 
 D — ailed him on Sunday ; I made him a very proper speech, 
 told him I observed he was much out of temper : that I 
 
 20 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 
 
 25 every great minister, who honoured me with his acquaint- 
 ance, if he heard or saw any thing 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 
 
 30 crowned head, and I thought no subject's favour was worth 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 385 
 
 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 dine with 5 
 him and Mrs. Masham's brother, to make up matters ; but 
 I would not. I don't know, but I would not. * * * 
 
 Letter XXIII. 
 
 Chelsea, May 12, 171 1. 
 
 I sent you my twenty-second this afternoon in town. 
 I dined with Mr. Harley and the old club, Lord Rivers, 
 lord-keeper, and Mr. Secretary. — They rallied me last 10 
 week, and said I must have Mr. St. John's leave, so I writ 
 to him yesterday, that, foreseeing I should never dine again 
 with Sir Simon Harcourt, knight, and Robert Harley, Esq., 
 I was resolved to do it to-day. The jest is, that, before 
 Saturday next, we expect they will be lords ; for Mr. 15 
 Harley's patent is drawing to be Earl of Oxford. Mr. 
 Secretary and I came away at seven, and he brought 
 me to our town's end in his coach; so I lost my walk, 
 St. John read my letter to the company, which was all 
 raillery, and passed purely. 2° 
 
 13. It rained all last night and this morning as heavy as 
 lead; but I just got fair weather to walk to town before 
 church. The roads are all over in deep puddle. The 
 hay of our town is almost fit to be mowed. I went to 
 court after church, (as I always do on Sundays,) and then 25 
 dined with Mr. Secretary, who has engaged me for every 
 Sunday, and poor MD dined at home upon a bit of veal, 
 and a pint of wine. Is it not plaguy insipid to tell you 
 every day where I dine ? yet now I have got into the way 
 of it, I cannot forbear it neither. Indeed, Mr. Presto, you 30 
 had better go answer MD's letter, N. 14- I'll answer it 
 
a86 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 when I please, Mr. Doctor. What's that you say? The 
 court was very full this morning, expecting Mr. Harley 
 would be declared Earl of Oxford, and have the treasurer's 
 staff. Mr. Harley never comes to court at all ; somebody 
 
 5 there asked me the reason ; Why, said I, the Lord of 
 
 Oxford knows. He always goes to the queen by the back 
 
 stairs. ********* 
 
 14. I went to town to-day by water. The heat quite 
 
 discouraged me from walking, and there is no shade in the 
 
 10 greatest part of the way : I took the first boat, and had a 
 footman my companion; then went again by water, and 
 dined in the city with a printer, to whom I carried a 
 pamphlet in manuscript, that Mr. Secretary gave me. The 
 printer sent it to the secretary for his approbation, and he 
 
 15 desired me to look it over, which I did, and found it a very 
 scurvy piece. The reason I tell you so is, because it was 
 done by your parson Slap, Scrap, Flap, (what d'ye call 
 him?) Trap, your chancellor's chaplain. 'Tis called A 
 Character of the present Set of Whigs, and is going to be 
 
 20 printed, and no doubt the author will take care to produce 
 it in Ireland. Dr. Freind was with me, and pulled out a 
 twopenny pamphlet just published," called The Slate of 
 Wit, giving a character of all the papers that have come 
 out of late. The author seems to be a Whig, yet he 
 
 25 speaks very highly of a paper called The Examiner, and 
 says the supposed author of it is Dr. Swift. But above all 
 things he praises the Tatlers and Spectators ; and I believe 
 Steele and Addison were privy to the printing of it. Thus 
 is one treated by these impudent dogs. And that villain 
 
 30 Curl has scraped up some trash, and calls it Dr. Swift's 
 Miscellanies, with the name at large, and I can get no 
 satisfaction of him. Nay, Mr. Harley told me he had read 
 it, and only laughed at me before lord-keeper, and the rest. 
 Since I came home I have been sitting with the prolocutor, 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 387 
 
 Dean Atterbury, who is my neighbour over the way; but 
 generally keeps in town with his convocation. 
 
 15. My walk to town to-day was after ten, and pro- 
 digiously hot; I dined with Lord Shelburne, and have 
 desired Mrs. Pratt, who lodges there, to carry over Mrs. 5 
 Walls's tea ; I hope she will do it, and they talk of going 
 in a fortnight. My way is this : I leave my best gown and 
 periwig at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, then walk the Pall Mall, 
 through the Park, out at Buckingham House, and so to 
 Chelsea a little beyond the church : I set out about sunset, 10 
 and get here in something less than an hour: it is two 
 good miles, and just five thousand seven hundred and 
 forty-eight steps; so there is four miles a day walking, 
 without reckoning what I walk while I stay in town. 
 When I pass the Mall in the evening it is prodigious to 15 
 see the number of ladies walking there ; and I always cry 
 shame at the ladies of Ireland, who never walk at all, as if 
 their legs were of no use but to be laid aside. I have been 
 now almost three weeks here, and I thank God, am much 
 better in my head, if it does but continue. I tell you what, 20 
 if I was with you, when we went to Stoyte at Donnybrook, 
 we would only take a coach to the hither end of Stephen's 
 Green, and from thence go every step on foot, yes faith, 
 every step ; it would do : DD goes as well as Presto. 
 Every body tells me I look better already; for faith I 25 
 looked sadly, that's certain. My breakfast is milk porridge : 
 
 I don't love it, faith I hate it, but 'tis cheap and whole- 
 some ; and I hate to be obliged to either of those qualities 
 for any thing. 
 
 16. I wonder why Presto will be so tedious in answering 30 
 MD's letters ; because he would keep the best to the last 
 
 I suppose. Well, Presto must be humoured, it must be as 
 he will have it, or there will be an old to do. Dead with 
 heat, are not you very hot ? My walks make my forehead 
 
288 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 sweat rarely ; sometimes my morning journey is by water, 
 as it was to-day with one parson Richardson, who came to 
 see me, on his going to Ireland; and with him I send 
 Mrs. Walls's tea, and three books I got from the lords of 
 5 the treasury for the college. ***** 
 
 17. We expect now every day that Mr. Harley will be 
 Earl of Oxford and lord-treasurer. His patent is passing ; 
 but they say, lord-keeper's not yet, at least his son, young 
 Harcourt, told me so t'other day. I dined to-day privately 
 
 10 with my friend Lewis at his lodgings at Whitehall. T'other 
 day at Whitehall I met a lady of my acquaintance, whom 
 I had not seen before since I came to England : we were 
 mighty glad to see each other, and she has engaged me to 
 visit her, as I design to do. It is one Mrs. Colledge ; she 
 
 15 has lodgings at Whitehall, having been seamstress to King 
 William, worth three hundred a year. Her father was a 
 fanatic joiner, hanged for treason in Shaftsbury's plot. 
 This noble person and I were brought acquainted, some 
 years ago, by Lady Berkeley. I love good creditable 
 
 20 acquaintance ; I love to be worst of the company : I am 
 not of those that say, for want of company, welcome 
 trumpery. I was this evening with Lady Kerry and Mrs. 
 Pratt at Vauxhall, to hear the nightingales ; but they are 
 almost past singing. 
 
 25 18. I was hunting the secretary to-day in vain about 
 some business, and dined with Colonel Crowe, late Go- 
 vernor of Barbadoes, and your friend Sterne was the third : 
 he is very kind to Sterne, and helps him in his business, 
 which lies asleep till Mr. Harley is lord-treasurer, because 
 
 30 nothing of moment is now done in the treasury, the change 
 being expected every day. I sat with Dean Atterbury till 
 one o'clock after I came home ; so 'tis late. 
 
 19. Do you know that about our town we are mowing 
 already and making hay, and it smells so sweet as we walk 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 389 
 
 through the flowery meads ; but the hay-making nymphs, 
 are perfect drabs, nothing so clean and pretty as farther in 
 the country. There is a mighty increase of dirty wenches, 
 in straw hats since I knew London. I staid at home till 
 five o'clock, and dined with Dean Atterbury : then went by 5 
 water to Mr. Harley's, where the Saturday club was met, 
 with the addition of the Duke of Shrewsbury. I whispered 
 Lord Rivers, that I did not like to see a stranger among 
 as : and the rogue told it aloud : but Mr. Secretary said, 
 the duke writ to have leave : so I appeared satisfied, and so 10 
 we laughed. Mr. Secretary told me the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham had been talking to him much about me, and desired 
 my acquaintance. I answered, it could not be : for he had 
 not made sufficient advances. Then the Duke of Shrewsr 
 bury said, he thought that duke was not used to make 15 
 advances. I said I could not help that; for I always 
 expected advances in proportion to men's quality, and 
 more from a duke than other men. The duke replied, 
 that he did not mean any thing of his quality ; which was 
 handsomely said enough ; for he meant his pride : and I 20 
 have invented a notion to believe that nobody is proud. 
 At ten all the company went away ; and from ten till 
 twelve Mr. Harley and I sat together, where we talked 
 through a great deal of matters I had a mind to settle with 
 him, and then walked, in a fine moonshine night, to 25 
 Chelsea, where I got by one. Lord Rivers conjured me 
 not to walk so late ; but I would, because I had no other 
 way; but I had no money to lose: 
 
 20. By what lord-keeper told me last night, I find he will 
 not be made a peer so soon : but Mr. Harley's patent for 3° 
 Earl of Oxford is now drawing, and will be done in three 
 days. We made him own it, which he did scurvily, and 
 then talked of it like the rest. Mr. Secretary had too much 
 company with him to-day; so I came away soon after 
 
 vol. 1. u 
 
290 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 dinner. I give no man liberty to swear or talk lewdly, and 
 I found some of them were in constraint, so I left them to 
 themselves. I wish you a merry Whitsuntide, and pray tell 
 me how you pass away your time : but faith, you are going 
 5 to Wexford, and I fear this letter is too late ; it shall go on 
 Thursday, and sooner it cannot, I have so much business 
 to hinder me answering yours. Where must I direct in 
 your absence ? Do you quit your lodgings ? 
 
 21. Going to town this morning, I met in the Pall Mall 
 10 a clergyman of Ireland, whom I love very well, and was 
 
 glad to see, and with him a little jackanapes of Ireland too, 
 who married Nanny Swift, uncle Adam's daughter, one 
 Perry ; perhaps you may have heard of him. His wife has 
 sent him here to get a place from Lownds ; because my 
 
 15 uncle and Lownds married two sisters, and Lownds is a 
 great man here in the treasury : but by good luck I have 
 no acquaintance with him : however he expected I should 
 be his friend to Lownds, and one word of mine, &c, the 
 old cant. But I will not go two yards to help him. I 
 
 20 dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, where I keep my best gown 
 and periwig to put on when I come to town and be a spark. 
 
 22. I dined to-day in the city, and coming home this 
 evening, I met Sir Thomas Mansel and Mr. Lewis in the 
 Park. Lewis whispered me that Mr. Harley's patent for 
 
 25 Earl of Oxford was passed in Mr. Secretary St. John's 
 office ; so to-morrow or next day I suppose he will be 
 declared Earl of Oxford, and have the staff. This man 
 has grown by persecutions, turnings out, and stabbing. 
 What waiting, and crowding, and bowing, will be at his 
 
 30 levee ? yet, if human nature be capable of so much con- 
 stancy, I should believe he will be the same man still, 
 bating the necessary forms of grandeur he must keep up. 
 'Tis late sirrahs, and I'll go sleep. * * * * 
 
 23. O faith, I should be glad to be in the same kingdom 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 391 
 
 with MD, however, although you were at Wexford. But I 
 am kept here by a most capricious fate, which I would 
 break through, if I could do it with decency or honour. — 
 To return without some mark of distinction, would look 
 extremely little : and I would likewise gladly be somewhat 5 
 Ticher than I am. I will say no more, but beg you to be 
 easy, till fortune take her course, and to believe that MD's 
 felicity is the great end I aim at in my pursuits. And so 
 let us talk no more on this subject, which makes me 
 melancholy, and that I would fain divert. Believe me, no 10 
 man breathing at present has less share of happiness in life 
 than I : I do not say I am unhappy at all, but that every 
 thing here is tasteless to me for want of being where I 
 would be. And so a short sigh, and no more of this. 
 
 Letter XXIV. 
 
 June 7, 1711. * * Why, Madame Dingley, the 15 
 First Fruits are done ! Southwell told me they went to 
 inquire about them, and lord-treasurer said they were 
 done, and had been long ago. And I'll tell you a secret 
 you must not mention, that the Duke of Ormond is ordered 
 to take notice of them in his speech to your parliament ; 20 
 and I desire you will take care to say on occasion, that my 
 lord-treasurer Harley did it many months ago, before the 
 Duke was lord-lieutenant. * * * As for the 
 Examiner, I have heard a whisper that after that of this 
 day, which tells what this parliament has done, you will 25 
 hardly find them so good, I prophesy they will be trash for 
 the future ; and methinks in this day's Examiner 'the author 
 talks doubtfully, as if he would write no more. 
 
 u 2 
 
293 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Letter XXV. 
 
 ******** 
 
 June 22, 17 1 1. I went late to-day to town, and dined 
 with my friend Lewis. I saw Will. Congreve attending at 
 the treasury, by order, with his brethren, the commissioners 
 of the wine licences. I had often mentioned him with kind- 
 5 ness to 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, &c. The poor man said, he had 
 been used so ill of late years, he was quite astonished at 
 
 io my lord's goodness, &c, and desired me to tell my lord so; 
 which I did this evening, and recommended him heartily. 
 My lord assured me he esteemed him very much, and 
 would be always kind to him ; that what he said was to 
 make Congreve easy, because he knew people talked as if 
 
 ?5 his lordship designed to turn everybody out, and particu- 
 larly Congreve ; which indeed was true, for the poor man 
 told me he apprehended 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 
 
 20 made a worthy man easy, and that is a good day's work. I 
 am proposing to my lord to erect a society or academy for 
 correcting and settling our language, that we may not 
 perpetually be changing as we do. He enters mightily into 
 it, so does the Dean of Carlisle ; and I design to write a 
 
 25 letter to lord-treasurer with the proposals of it, and publish 
 it ; and so I told my lord, and he approves of it. Yester- 
 day's was a sad Examiner, and last week was very in- 
 different, though some little scraps of the old spirit, as if 
 he had given some hints ; but yesterday's is all trash. It 
 
 30 is plain the hand is changed. ***** 
 
 30. Now, Madam Stella, what say you? you ride every 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA, 393 
 
 day ; I know that already, sirrah ; and if you ride every 
 day for a twelvemonth, you would be still better and better. 
 No, I hope Parvisol will not have the impudence to make 
 you stay an hour for the money ; if he does, I'll un-parvisol 
 him ; pray let me know. O Lord, how hasty we are ; Stella 5 
 can't stay writing and writing; she must ride and go a 
 cockhorse, pray now. Well, but the horses are not come 
 to the door ; the fellow can't find the bridle ; your stirrup 
 is broken ; where did you put the whips, Dingley ? Marg'et, 
 where have you laid Mrs. Johnson's ribband to tie about 10 
 her ? reach me my mask ; sup up this before you go. So, 
 so, a gallop, a gallop ; sit fast, sirrah, and don't ride hard 
 upon the stones. Well, now Stella is gone, tell me, 
 Dingley, is she a good girl ? and what news is that you are 
 to tell me ? — No, I believe the box is not lost : Sterne says 15 
 it is not. — No, faith, you must go to Wexford without 
 seeing your Duke of Ormond, unless you stay on purpose ; 
 perhaps you may be so wise. I tell you this is your six- 
 teenth letter ; will you never be satisfied ? No, no, I'll walk 
 late no more ; I ought less to venture it than other people, 20 
 and so I was told : but I'll return to lodge in town next 
 Thursday. When you come from Wexford, I would have 
 you send a letter of attorney to Mr. Benjamin Tooke, 
 bookseller in London, directed to me; and he shall manage 
 your affair. I have your parchment safely locked up in 25 
 London. O Madam Stella, welcome home ; was it plea- 
 sant riding ? did your horse stumble ? how often did the 
 man light to settle your stirrup ? ride nine miles ? faith you 
 have galloped indeed. ****** 
 
 Farewell, my dearest lives and delights, I love you better 30 
 than ever, if possible, as hope saved, I do, and ever will. 
 God almighty bless you ever, and make us happy together ; 
 I pray for this twice every day ; and I hope God will hear 
 my poor hearty prayers. Remember, if I am used ill and 
 
294 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Ungratefully, as I have formerly been, 'tis what I am pre- 
 pared for, and shall not wonder at it. Yet, I am now 
 envied, and thought in high favour, and have every day 
 numbers of considerable men teazing me to solicit for them. 
 5 And the ministry all use me perfectly well, and all that 
 know them say they love me. Yet I can count upon 
 nothing, nor will, but upon MD's love and kindness. 
 They think me useful ; they pretended they were afraid of 
 none but me; and that they resolved to have me; they 
 io have often confessed this : yet all makes little impression 
 on me. Plague of these speculations ! they give me the 
 spleen ; and that is a disease I was not born to. — Let me 
 alone, sirrahs, and be satisfied : I am, as long as MD and 
 Presto are well : 
 
 Little wealth. 
 And much health, 
 And a life by stealth; 
 
 iS that is all we want ; and so farewell, dearest MD ; Stella, 
 Dingley, Presto, all together, now and for ever all together. 
 Farewell again and again. 
 
 Letter XXVII. 
 
 ******** 
 
 July 28, 1 7 1 1. Morning. Mr. Secretary sent me word he 
 will call at my lodgings by two this afternoon, to take me 
 
 20 to Windsor, so I must dine no where ; and I promised lord- 
 treasurer to dine with him to-day ; but I suppose we shall 
 dine at Windsor at five, for we make but three hours there. 
 I am going abroad, but have left Patrick to put up my 
 things, and to be sure to be at home half an hour before 
 
 35 two. Windsor, at night.. We did not leave London 
 
 till three, and dined here between six and seven ; at nine I 
 left the company, and went to see lord-treasurer, who is 
 just come. I chid him for coming so late ; he chid me for 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 395 
 
 not dining with him ; said, he staid an hour for me. Then 
 I went and sat an hour with Mr. Lewis till just now, and 
 'tis past eleven. I lie in the same house with the secre- 
 tary, one of the prebendary's houses. The secretary is not 
 come from his apartment in the castle. Do you think that 5 
 abominable dog Patrick Was out after two to-day, and I in 
 a fright every moment for fear the chariot should come; 
 and when he came in he had not put up one rag of my 
 things : I never was in a greater passion, and would cer- '' 
 tainly have cropt one of his ears, if I had not looked every 10 
 moment for the secretary, who sent his equipage to my 
 lodging before, and came in a chair from Whitehall to me, 
 and happened to stay half an hour later than he intended. 
 One of lord-treasurer's servants gave me a letter from ***** ; 
 with an offer of fifty pounds to be paid me in what manner 15 
 I pleased ; because, he said, he desired to be well with me. 
 I was in a rage : but my friend Lewis cooled me, and said, 
 it is what the best men sometimes meet with ; and I have 
 been not seldom served in the like manner, although not 
 so grossly. In these cases I never demur a moment ; nor 20 
 ever found the least inclination to take any thing. Well, 
 I'll go try to sleep in my new bed, and to dream of poor 
 Wexford MD, and Stella that drinks water, and Dingley 
 that drinks ale. 
 
 29. I was at court and church to-day, as I was this day 25 
 se'ennight ; I generally am acquainted with about thirty in 
 the drawing-room, and am so proud I make all the lords 
 come up to me ; one passes half an hour pleasant enough. 
 We had a dunce to preach before the queen to-day, which 
 often happens. Windsor is a delicious situation, but the 30 
 town is scoundrel. I have this morning got the Gazette 
 for Ben Tooke and one Barber a printer ; it will be about 
 three hundred pounds a-year between them. T'other 
 fellow was printer of the Examiner, which is now laid 
 
296 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 down. I dined with the secretary, we were a dozen in 
 all, three Scotch lords, and Lord Peterborough. Duke 
 Hamilton would needs be witty, and hold up my train as I 
 walked up stairs. It is an ill circumstance, that on Sun- 
 5 days much company meet always at the great tables. 
 Lord-treasurer told at court, what I said to Mr. Secretary 
 on this occasion. The secretary showed me his bill of 
 fare, to encourage me to dine with him. Poh, said I, 
 show me a bill of company, for I value not your dinner. 
 10 See how this is all blotted, I can write no more here, but 
 to tell you I love MD dearly, and God bless them. 
 
 Letter XXXI. 
 
 ******** 
 
 (Windsor) Oct. 4, 1 7 1 1. It was the finest day in the world, 
 and we got out before eleven, a noble caravan of us. The 
 Duchess of Shrewsbury in her own chaise with one horse, 
 
 15 and Miss Touchet with her; Mrs. Masham and Mrs. Scar- 
 borow, one of the dressers, in one of the queen's chaises : 
 Miss Forester and Miss Scarborow, two maids of honour, 
 and Mrs. Hill on horseback. The Duke of Shrewsbury, 
 Mr. Masham, George Fielding, Arbuthnot, and I, on horse- 
 
 20 back too. Mrs. Hill's horse was hired for Miss Scarborow, 
 but she took it in civility, her own horse was galled and 
 could not be rid, but kicked and winced : the hired horse 
 was not worth eighteenpence. I borrowed coat, boots, 
 and horse, and in short we had all the difficulties, and 
 
 25 more than we used to have in making a party from Trim to 
 Longfield's. My coat was light camlet, faced with red 
 velvet, and silver buttons. We rode in the great park and 
 the forest about a dozen miles, and the duchess and I 
 had much conversation; we got home by two, and Mr. 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 297 
 
 Masham, his lady, Arbuthnot and I, dined with Mrs. Hill. 
 Arbuthnot made us all melancholy, by some symptoms of 
 coming illness : he expects a cruel fit of the stone in twelve 
 hours ; he says he is never mistaken, and he appears like a 
 man that is to be racked to-morrow. I cannot but hope it 5 
 will not be so bad ; he is a perfectly honest man, and one I 
 have much obligation to. It rained a little this afternoon, 
 and grew fair again. Lady Oglethorp sent to speak to me, 
 and it was to let me know that Lady Rochester desires she 
 and I may be better acquainted. Tis a little too late ; for 10 
 I am not now in love with Lady Rochester : they shame 
 me out of her, because she is old. Arbuthnot says, he 
 hopes my strained thumb is not the gout ; for he has often 
 found people so mistaken. I do not remember the par- 
 ticular thing that gave it me, only I had it just after 15 
 beating Patrick, and now it is better: so I believe he is 
 mistaken. ******** 
 
 Letter XXXVI. 
 ******** 
 
 Dec. 7, 1 711. This being the day the parliament was to 
 meet, and the great question to be determined, I went with 
 Dr. Freind to dine in the city, on purpose to be out of the 20 
 way, and we sent our printer to see what was our fate ; but 
 he gave us a most melancholy account of things. The 
 Earl of Nottingham began, and spoke against a peace, and 
 desired that in their address they might put in a clause to 
 advise the queen not to make a peace without Spain ; 25 
 which was debated, and carried by the Whigs by about 
 six voices : and this has happened entirely by my lord- 
 treasurer's neglect, who did not take timely care to make 
 up all his strength, although every one of us gave him 
 caution enough. Nottingham has certainly been bribed. 30 
 
298 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 The question is yet only carried in the committee of the 
 whole House, and we hope when it is reported to the 
 House to-morrow, we shall have a majority, by some Scotch 
 lords coming to town. However, it is a mighty blow and 
 S loss of reputation to lord-treasurer, and may end in his 
 ruin. I hear the thing only as the printer brought it, who 
 was at the debate ; but how the ministry take it, or what 
 their hopes and fears are, I cannot tell until I see them. 
 I shall be early with the secretary to-morrow, and then I 
 
 10 will tell you more, and shall write a full account to the 
 Bishop of Clogher to-morrow, and to the Archbishop of 
 Dublin, if I have time. I am horribly down at present 
 I long to know how lord-treasurer bears this, and what 
 remedy he has. The Duke of Ormond came this day to 
 
 15 Town, and was there. 
 
 8. I was early this morning with the secretary, and 
 talked over this matter. He hoped, that, when it was 
 reported this day in the House of Lords, they would dis- 
 agree with their committee, and so the matter would go off, 
 
 ■20 only with a little loss of reputation to the lord-treasurer. 
 I dined with Mr. Cockburn, and after, a Scotch member 
 came in, and told us that the clause was carried against the 
 court in the House of Lords almost two to one. I went 
 immediately to Mrs. Masham, and meeting Dr. Arbuthnot, 
 
 25 (the queen's favourite physician,) we went together. She 
 was just come from waiting at the queen's dinner, and 
 going to her own. She had heard nothing of the thing 
 being gone against us. It seems lord-treasurer had been 
 so negligent that he was with the queen while the question 
 
 30 was put in the House ; I immediately told Mrs. Masham, 
 that either she and lord-treasurer had joined with the queen 
 to betray us, or that they two were betrayed by the queen : 
 she protested solemnly it was not the former, and I believed 
 her ; but she gave me some lights to suspect the queen is 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 299 
 
 changed. For, yesterday, when the queen was going from 
 the House, where she sat to hear the debate, the Duke of 
 Shrewsbury, lord-chamberlain, asked her, whether he or the 
 Great Chamberlain Lindsay ought to lead her out ; she 
 answered short, ' Neither of you,' and gave her hand to the 5 
 Duke of Somerset, who was louder than any in the House 
 for the clause against peace. She gave me one or two 
 more instances of this sort, which convince me that the 
 queen is false, or at least very much wavering. Mr. 
 Masham begged us to stay, because lord-treasurer would 10 
 call, and we were resolved to fall on him about his negli- 
 gence in securing a majority. He came, and appeared in 
 good humour as usual, but I thought his countenance was 
 much cast down. I rallied him, and desired him to give 
 me his staff, which he did ; I told him, if he would secure 15 
 it me a week, I would set all right : he asked, how ? I said, 
 I would immediately turn Lord Marlborough, his two 
 daughters, the Duke and Duchess of Somerset, and Lord 
 Cholmondeley, out of all their employments ; and I believed 
 he had not a friend but was of my opinion. Arbuthnot 20 
 asked, how he came not to secure a majority ? He could 
 answer nothing, but that he could not help it, if people 
 would lie and forswear. A poor answer for a great minister. 
 There fell from him a scripture expression, that the hearts 
 of kings are unsearchable. I told him, it was what I feared, 25 
 and was from him the worst news he could tell me. I 
 begged him to know what he had to trust to : he stuck a 
 little ; but at last bid me not fear, for all would be well yet. 
 We would fain have had him eat a bit where he was, but he 
 would go home, it was past six : he made me go home with 30 
 him. There we found his brother and Mr. Secretary. He 
 made his son take a list of all the House of Commons who 
 had places, and yet voted against the court, in such a 
 manner as if they should lose their places : I doubt he is 
 
300 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 not able to compass it. Lord-keeper came in an hour, and 
 they were going upon business. So I left him, and returned 
 to Mrs. Masham ; but she had company with her, and I 
 would not stay. — This is a long journal, and of a day that 
 5 may produce great alterations, and hazard the ruin of 
 England. The Whigs are all in triumph; they foretold 
 how all this would be, but we thought it boasting. Nay, 
 they said the parliament should be dissolved before Christ- 
 mas, and perhaps it may : this is all your d — d Duchess of 
 
 10 Somerset's doings. I warned them of it nine months ago, 
 and a hundred times since : the Secretary always dreaded 
 it. I told lord-treasurer, I should have the advantage of 
 him ; for he would lose his head, and I should only be 
 hanged, and so carry my body entire to the grave. 
 
 15 9. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary; we are both 
 of opinion that the queen is false. I told him what I 
 heard, and he confirmed it by other circumstances. I 
 then went to my friend Lewis, who had sent to see me. 
 He talks of nothing but retiring to his estates in Wales. 
 
 20 He gave me reasons to believe the whole matter is settled 
 between the queen and the Whigs; he hears that Lord 
 Somers is to be treasurer, and believes, that sooner than 
 turn out the Duchess of Somerset, she will dissolve the 
 parliament, and get a Whiggish one, which may be done by 
 
 25 managing elections. Things are now in the crisis, and a 
 day or two will determine. I have desired him to engage 
 lord-treasurer, that as soon as he finds the change is re- 
 solved on, he will send me abroad as queen's secretary 
 somewhere or other, where I may remain till the new 
 
 30 ministers recal me ; and then I will be sick for five or six 
 months till the storm has spent itself. I hope he will grant 
 me this ; for I should hardly trust myself to the mercy of 
 my enemies while their anger is fresh. I dined to-day 
 with the Secretary, who affects mirth, and seems to hope all 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 30 1 
 
 will yet be well. I took him aside after dinner, told him 
 how I had served them, and had asked no reward, but 
 thought I might ask security; and then desired the same 
 thing of him, to send me abroad before a change. He 
 embraced me, and swore he would take the same care of 5 
 me as himself, &c, but bid me have courage, for that in 
 two days my lord-treasurer's wisdom would appear greater 
 than ever; that he suffered all that had happened on 
 purpose, and had taken measures to turn it to advantage. 
 I said, God send it ; but I do not believe a syllable ; and, 10 
 as far as I can judge, the game is lost. I shall know more 
 soon, and my letters will be at least a good history to show 
 you the steps of this change. 
 
 10. I was this morning with Lewis, who thinks they 
 will let the parliament sit till they have given the money, 15 
 and then dissolve them in spring, and break the ministry. 
 He spoke to lord-treasurer about what I desired him. My 
 lord desired him with great earnestness to assure me that 
 all would be well, and that I should fear nothing. I dined 
 
 in the city with a friend. This day the Commons went to 20 
 the queen with their address, and all the lords who were 
 for the peace went with them, to show their zeal. I have 
 now some farther conviction that the queen is false, and it 
 begins to be known. 
 
 11. I went between two and three to see Mrs. Masham ; 25 
 while I was there she went to her bed-chamber to try a 
 petticoat. Lord-treasurer came in to see her, and seeing 
 me in the outer room, fell a rallying me : says he, you had 
 better keep company with me, than with such a fellow as 
 Lewis, who has not the soul of a chicken, nor the heart of 30 
 a mite. Then he went in to Mrs. Masham, and as he 
 came back desired her leave to let me go home with him to 
 dinner. He asked, whether I was not afraid to be seen 
 with him ? I said, I never valued my lord-treasurer in my 
 
302 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 life, and therefore should have always the same esteem for 
 Mr. Harley and Lord Oxford. He seemed to talk con- 
 fidently, as if he reckoned that all this would turn to 
 advantage. I could not forbear hinting, that he was not 
 
 5 sure of the queen ; and that those scoundrel, starving lords 
 would never have dared to vote against the court, if Somer- 
 set had not assured them that it would please the queen. 
 He said, that was true, and Somerset did so. I staid till 
 six ; then De Buys, the Dutch envoy, came to him, and I 
 
 10 left him. Prior was with us a while after dinner. I see 
 
 him and all of them cast down ; though they make the 
 
 best of it. ********* 
 
 15. Morning. They say the Occasional Bill is brought 
 
 to-day into the House of Lords ; but I know not. I will 
 
 15 now put an end to my letter, and give it into the post- 
 house myself. This will be a memorable letter, and I 
 shall sigh to see it some years hence. Here are the first 
 steps towards the ruin of an excellent ministry ; for I look 
 upon them as certainly ruined ; and God knows what may 
 
 20 be the consequences. — I now bid my dearest MD farewell ; 
 for company is coming, and I must be at Lord Dartmouth's 
 office by noon. Farewell, dearest MD; I wish you a 
 merry Christmas ; I believe you will have this about that 
 time. Love Presto, who loves MD above all things a 
 
 25 thousand times. Farewell again, dearest MD, &c. 
 
 Letter XXXVII. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Dec. 25, 1711. I wish MD a merry Christmas, and many 
 a one; but mine is melancholy: I durst not go to church to- 
 day, finding myself a little out of order, and it snowing 
 prodigiously, and freezing. At noon I went to Mrs. Van, 
 30 who had this week engaged me to dine there to-day : and 
 there I received the news that poor Mrs. Long died at 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 3O3 
 
 Lynn in Norfolk on Saturday last, at four in the morning ; 
 she was sick but four hours. We suppose it was the 
 asthma, which she was subject to as well as the dropsy, as 
 she sent me word in her last letter, written about five 
 weeks ago ; but then said she was recovered. I never 5 
 was more afflicted at any death. The poor creature had 
 retired to Lynn two years ago, to live cheap, and pay her 
 debts. In her last letter she told me she hoped to be easy 
 by Christmas ; and she kept her word, although she meant 
 it otherwise. She had all sorts of amiable qualities, and no 10 
 ill ones, but the indiscretion of too much neglecting her 
 own affairs. She had two thousand pounds left her by an 
 old grandmother, with which she intended to pay her 
 debts, and live on an annuity she had of one hundred 
 pounds a-year, and Newburg House, which would be about 15 
 sixty pounds more. That odious grandmother living so 
 long, forced her to retire; for the two thousand pounds 
 was settled on her after the old woman's death, yet her 
 brute of a brother, Sir James Long, would not advance it 
 for her ; else she might have paid her debts, and continued 20 
 here, and lived still : I believe melancholy helped her on 
 to her grave. I have ordered a paragraph to be put in the 
 Post-Boy, giving an account of her death, and making 
 honourable mention of her ; which is all I can do to serve 
 her memory : but one reason was spite ; for her brother 25 
 would fain have her death a secret, to save the charge of 
 bringing her up here to bury her, or going into mourning. 
 Pardon all this, for the sake of a poor creature I had so 
 much friendship for. ******* 
 
 Letter XXXVIII. 
 
 Dec. 29, 1 711. * * We are in great joy at the 30 
 happy turn of affairs. The queen has been at last persuaded 
 to her own interest and security, and I freely think she 
 
304 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 must have made both herself and kingdom very unhappy, 
 if she had done otherwise. It is still a mighty secret that 
 Masham is to be one of the new lords : they say he does 
 not yet know it himself; but the queen is to surprise 
 5 him with it. Mr. Secretary is to be a lord at the end of the 
 session : but they want him still in parliament. After all, 
 it is a strange unhappy necessity of making so many peers 
 together : but the queen has drawn it upon herself, by her 
 confounded trimming and moderation. 
 
 10 31. Our new lords' patents are passing ; I don't like the 
 expedient, if we could have found any other. * * 
 These are strong remedies : pray God the patient is able 
 to bear them. The last ministry people are utterly des- 
 perate. 
 
 15 Jan. 1, 1711-12. Now I wish my dearest little MD many 
 happy new years; yes, both Dingley and Stella, ay and 
 Presto too, many happy new years. I dined with the Secre- 
 tary, and it is true that the Duke of Marlborough is turned 
 out of all. The Duke of Ormond has got his regiment of 
 
 20 foot-guards, I know not who has the rest. If the ministry 
 be not sure of a peace, I shall wonder at this step, and do not 
 approve it at best. The queen and lord-treasurer mortally 
 hate the Duke of Marlborough, and to that he owes his 
 fall, more than to his other faults : unless he has been 
 
 25 tampering too far with his party, of which I have not heard 
 any particulars ; however it be, the world abroad will blame 
 us. I confess my belief, that he has not one good quality 
 in the world beside that of a general, and even that I have 
 heard denied by several great soldiers. But we have had 
 
 30 constant success in arms while he commanded. Opinion is 
 a mighty matter in war, and I doubt the French think it 
 impossible to conquer an army that he leads f and our 
 soldiers think the same ; and how far even this step may 
 encourage the French to play tricks with us, no man 
 
yOURNAL TO STELLA. 305 
 
 knows. I do not love to see personal resentment mix with 
 public affairs. 
 
 2. This being the day the lords meet, and the new peers 
 to be introduced, I went to Westminster to see the sight ; 
 but the crowd was too great in the House. So I only went 5 
 into the robing room, to give my four brothers joy, and Sir 
 Thomas Mansel, and Lord Windsor; the other six I am 
 not acquainted with. It was apprehended the Whigs would 
 have raised some difficulties, but nothing happened. I 
 went to see Lady Masham at noon, and wish her joy of her 10 
 new honour, and a happy new year. I found her very well 
 pleased : for peerage will be some sort of protection to her 
 upon any turn of affairs. She engaged me to come at 
 night, and sup with her and lord-treasurer ; I went at nine, 
 and she was not at home, so I would not stay. — No, no, I 15 
 won't answer your letter yet, young women. I dined with 
 
 a friend in the neighbourhood. I see nothing here like 
 Christmas, except brawn or mincepies in places where I 
 dine, and giving away my half-crowns like farthings to great 
 men's porters and butlers. Yesterday I paid seven good 20 
 guineas to the fellow at the tavern, where I treated the 
 society. I have a great mind to send you the bill. I think 
 I told you some articles. I have not heard whether any 
 thing was done in the House of Lords after introducing the 
 new ones. Ford has been sitting with me till peeast 25 
 tweeleve a clock. 
 
 3. This was our society day; Lord Dupplin was pre- 
 sident: we choose every week; the last president treats 
 and chooses his successor. I believe our dinner cost fif- 
 teen pounds beside wine. The secretary grew brisk, and 30 
 would not let me go, nor Lord Lansdown, who would fain 
 have gone home to his lady, being newly married to Lady 
 Mary Thynne. It was near one when we parted, so you 
 must think I cannot write much to-night. The adjourning 
 
 vol. 1, x 
 
306 SELECTIONS FROM SWTFT. 
 
 of the House of Lords yesterday, as the queen desired, was 
 just carried by the twelve new lords, and one more. Lord 
 Radnor was not there ; I hope I have cured him. Did I 
 tell you that I have brought Dr. King- in to be Gazetteer? 
 5 It will be worth above two hundred pounds a-year to him : 
 I believe I told you so before, but I am forgetful. Go, get 
 you gone to ombre, and claret, and toasted oranges. I'll 
 go sleep. ********* 
 
 Letter XLIII. 
 
 London, March 8, 1711-12. 
 
 Did I tell you of a race of rakes, called the Mohocks, 
 10 that play the devil about this town every night, slit people's 
 noses, and bid them, &c. ? Nite sollahs, and rove Pdfr. 
 Nite, MD. 
 
 9. I was at court to-day, and no body invited me to 
 dinner, except one or two, whom I did not care to dine 
 
 15 with; so I dined with Mrs. Van. Young Davenant was 
 telling us at court how he was set upon by the Mohocks, 
 and how they ran his chair through with a sword. It 
 is not safe being in the streets at night for them. The 
 Bishop of Salisbury's son is said to be of the gang. They 
 
 20 are all Whigs ; and a great lady sent to me, to speak to her 
 father and to lord-treasurer, to have a care of them, and to 
 be careful likewise of myself; for she had heard they had 
 malicious intentions against the ministers and their friends. 
 I know not whether there be any thing in this, though 
 
 25 others are of the same opinion. The- weather still con- 
 tinues very fine and frosty. I walked in the Park this 
 evening, and came home early to avoid the Mohocks. 
 Lord-treasurer is better. Nite, my own two dealest MD. 
 
 10. I went this morning again to see lord-treasurer, who 
 30 is quite recovered ; and I staid till he went out. I dined with 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 307 
 
 a friend in the city, about a little business of printing ; but 
 not my own-. You must buy a small twopenny pamphlet, 
 called, Law is a Bottomless Fit. Tis very prettily written, 
 and there will be a Second Part. * * * * * 
 
 12. Here is the D — and all to do with these Mohocks. 5 
 Grub Street papers about them fly like lightning, and a list 
 printed of near eighty put into several prisons, and all a lie; 
 and I begin almost to think there is no truth, or very little, 
 in the whole story. He that abused Davenant was a 
 drunken gentleman ; none of that gang. My man tells 10 
 me that one of the lodgers heard in a coffee-house, pub- 
 licly, that one design of the Mohocks was upon me, if they 
 could catch me. And though I believe nothing of it, yet I 
 forbear walking late, and they have put me to the charge of 
 some shillings already. I dined to-day with lord-treasurer 15 
 and two gentlemen of the Highlands of Scotland, yet very 
 polite men. I sat there till nine, and then went to Lord 
 Masham's, where lord-treasurer followed me, and we sat 
 till twelve; and I came home in a chair for fear of the 
 Mohocks, and I have given him warning of it too. Little 20 
 'Harrison, whom I sent to Holland, is now actually made 
 Queen's secretary at the Hague. It will be in the Gazette 
 to-morrow. It is worth twelve hundred pounds a year. 
 
 Here is a young fellow has writ some Sea Eclogues, 
 Poems of Mermen, resembling pastorals of shepherds, 25 
 and they are very pretty, and the thought is new. Mermen 
 are he-mermaids ; Tritons, native of the sea ; do you 
 understand me ? I think to recommend him to our society 
 to-morrow. His name is Diaper. Plague on him, I must 
 do something for him, and get him out of the way. I hate 3° 
 to have any new wits rise, but when they do rise I would 
 encourage them ; but they tread on our heels and thrust us 
 off the stage. Nite, dealest MD. * * * * 
 
 I missed the secretary, and then walked to Chelsea to 
 x 2 
 
308 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 dine with the Dean of Christchurch, who was engaged to 
 Lord Orrery with some other Christchurch-men, He made 
 me go with him whether I would or not, for they have this 
 long time admitted me a Christchurchman. Lord Orrery, 
 5 generally every winter, gives his old acquaintance of that 
 college a dinner. There were nine clergymen at table, and 
 four laymen. The dean and I soon left them, and after a 
 visit or two, I went to Lord Masham's, and lord-treasurer, 
 Arbuthnot and I sat till twelve. And now I am come 
 
 10 home and got to-bed. I came a-foot, but had my man 
 with me. Lord-treasurer advised me not to go in a chair, 
 because the Mohocks insult chairs more than they do those 
 on foot. They think there is some mischievous design in 
 those villains. Several of them, lord-treasurer told me, are 
 
 j 5 actually taken up. I heard, at dinner, that one of them 
 
 was killed last night. ******* 
 
 22. I will immediately seal up this, and tary it in my 
 
 pottick till evening, and zen put it in ze post, * * Farewell, 
 
 dealest deal MD, and rove Pdfr dearly dearly. Farewell 
 
 20 MD. 
 
 Letter XLIV. 
 
 London, March 26, 1712. 
 ******** 
 
 The news of the French desiring a cessation of arms, &c, 
 was but town talk. We shall know in a few days, as I am 
 told, whether there will be a peace or no. The Duke 
 of Ormond will go in a week for Flanders, they say. Our 
 
 15 Mohocks go on still, and cut people's faces every night, but 
 they shan't cut mine. I like it better as it is. The dogs 
 will cost me at least a crown a-week in chairs. I believe 
 the souls of your houghers of cattle have got into them, 
 and now they don't distinguish between a cow and a 
 
 30 Christian. I forgot to wish you yesterday a happy new- 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 309 
 
 year. You know the twenty-fifth of March is the first day 
 of the year, and now you must leave off cards, and put out 
 your fire. I'll put out mine the first of April, cold or not 
 cold. I believe I shall lose credit with you, by not coming 
 over at the beginning of April ; but I hoped the session 5 
 would be ended, and I must stay till then ; yet I would 
 fain be at the beginning of my willows growing. Percival 
 tells me, that the quicksets upon the flat in the garden do 
 not grow so well as those famous ones on the ditch. They 
 want digging about them. The cherry trees, by the river 10 
 side, my heart is set upon. Nite MD. 
 
 27. Society day, you know, that I suppose. Dr. Ar- 
 buthnett was president. His dinner was dressed in the 
 queen's kitchen, and was mighty fine, and we eat it at 
 Ozinda's chocolate-house, just by St. James's. We were 15 
 never merrier, nor better company, and did not part till 
 after eleven. I did not summon Lord Lansdown : he and 
 I are fallen out. There was something in an Examiner a 
 fortnight ago, that he thought reflected on the abuses in his 
 office, (he is secretary at war,) and he writ to the secretary, 20 
 that he heard I had inserted that paragraph. This I 
 resented highly, that he should complain of me before he 
 spoke to me ; and I sent him a peppering letter, and would 
 not summon him by a note, as I do the rest; nor ever 
 will have any thing to say to him, till he begs my pardon. 25 
 I met lord-treasurer to-day, at Lady Masham's. He would 
 have fain carried me home to dinner, but I begged his 
 pardon. ********* 
 
 Letter XLVI. 
 
 ******** 
 
 May 10, 1 712. I was at our society last Thursday, to 
 receive a new member, the chancellor of the exchequer ; but 3° 
 I drink nothing above wine and water. We shall have a 
 
310 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 peace, I hope, soon, or at least entirely broke ; but I believe 
 the first. My Letter to Lord-Treasurer, about the English 
 Tongue, is now printing ; and I suffer my name to be put 
 at the end of it, which I never did before in my life. The 
 5 Appendix to the Third Part of John Bull was published 
 yesterday ; it is equal to the rest. I hope you read John 
 Bull. It was a Scotch gentleman, a friend of mine, that 
 writ it; but they put it upon me. The parliament will 
 hardly be up till June. We were like to be undone some 
 10 days ago with a tack ; but we carried it bravely, and the 
 Whigs came in to help us. * * Ppt does not say one 
 word of her own little health. I'm angry almost, but I 
 won't, tause see iss a dood daller in idle sings. * * 
 
 Letter XLVII. 
 
 May 31, 1 71 2. I believe I have lost credit with you, in 
 
 1 5 relation to my coming over ; but I, protest it is impossible 
 for one, who has any thing to do with this ministry, to be 
 certain when he fixes any time. There is a business, which, 
 till it takes some turn or other, I cannot leave this place in 
 prudence or honour. And I never wished so much as 
 
 20 now, that I had staid in Ireland ; but the die is cast, and is 
 now a spinning, and till it settles, I cannot tell whether it 
 be an ace or a sise. I am confident by what you know 
 yourselves you will justify me in all this. The moment I am 
 used ill, I will leave them ; but know not how to do it while 
 
 25 things are in suspense. — The session will soon be over, (I 
 believe in a fortnight,) and the peace, we hope, will be made 
 in a short time ; and then there will be no further occasion 
 for me ; nor have I any thing to trust to but court gratitude; 
 so that I expect to see my willows a month after the Parlia- 
 
 30 ment is up : but I will take MD in the way, and not go to 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 311 
 
 Laracor like an unmannerly spreenckich Parson. Have you 
 seen my Letter to Lord-Treasurer ? There are two answers 
 come out to it already; though 'tis no politics, but a 
 harmless proposal about the improvement of the English 
 Tongue. I believe if I writ an essay upon a straw some 5 
 fool would answer it. ****** * 
 
 Letter XLVIII. 
 
 Kensington, June 17, 1 712. I have lodged here near a 
 fortnight, partly for the air and exercise, partly to be near 
 the court, where dinners are to be found. I generally get 
 a lift in a coach to town, and in the evening I walk back. 10 
 On Saturday, I dined with the Duchess of Ormond, at her 
 lodge near Sheen, and thought to get a boat back as usual ; 
 I walked by the bank to Kew, but no boat, then to Mort- 
 lake, but no boat ; and it was nine o'clock ; at last a little 
 sculler called, full of nasty people. I made him set me 15 
 down at Hammersmith, so walked two miles to this place, 
 and got here by eleven. Last night I had another such 
 difficulty. I was in the city till past ten at night ; it rained 
 hard, but no coach to be had. It gave over a little and I 
 walked all the way here, and got home by twelve. I love 20 
 these shabby difficulties when they are over; but I hate 
 them, because they rise from not having a thousand pound 
 a year. * * * 
 
 Letter LIV. 
 
 ******** 
 
 London, Oct. 28, 1712. Here is the Duke of Marlborough 
 going out of England, (Lord knows why,) which causes many 25 
 speculations. Some say he is conscious of guilt, and dare 
 not stand it. Others think he has a mind to fling an odium 
 on the government, as who should say, that one, who has 
 done such great services to his country, cannot live quietly 
 
31 a SELECTIONS FROM SIVIFT. 
 
 in it, by reason of the malice of his enemies. I have helped 
 to patch up these people together once more. God knows 
 how long it may last. I was to-day at a trial between Lord 
 Lansdown and Lord Carteret, two friends of mine. It was 
 5 in the Queen's Bench, for about six thousand a-year, (or 
 nine I think). I sat under Lord Chief Justice Parker, and 
 his pen falling down I reached it up. He made me a low 
 bow; and I was going to whisper him, that I had done good 
 for evil ; for he would have taken mine from me. I told it 
 
 10 lord-treasurer and Bolingbroke. Parker would not have 
 known me, if several lords on the bench, and in the court, 
 bowing, had not turned every body's eyes, and set them < a 
 whispering. I owe the dog a spite, and will pay him in two 
 months at farthest, if I can. So much for that. But you 
 
 15 must have chat, and I must say every sorry thing that 
 comes into my head. They say the queen will stay a 
 month longer at Windsor. These devils of Grub Street 
 rogues, that write the Flying Post and Medley in one 
 paper, will not be quiet. They are always mauling lord- ■ 
 
 20 treasurer, Lord Bolingbroke, and me. We have the dog 
 under prosecution, but Bolingbroke is not active enough; 
 but I hope to swinge him. He is a Scotch rogue, one 
 Ridpath. They get out upon bail, and write on. We take 
 them again, and get fresh bail; so it goes round. They 
 
 25 say some learned Dutchman has wrote a book, proving- by 
 civil law, that we do them wrong by this peace ; but I shall 
 show, by plain reason, that we have suffered the wrong, and 
 not they. I toil like a horse, and have hundreds of letters 
 still to read : and squeeze a line out of each, or at least the 
 
 30 seeds of a line. Strafford goes back to Holland in a day 
 or two, and I hope our peace is very near. I have about 
 thirty pages more to write, (that is, to be extracted,) which 
 will be sixty in print. It is the most troublesome part of 
 all, and I cannot keep myself private, though I stole into a 
 
Journal to stella. 313 
 
 room up two pair of stairs, when I came from Windsor; 
 
 but my present man has not yet learned his lesson of 
 
 denying me discreetly. 
 
 ******** •*■ 
 
 Letter LV. 
 
 London, Nov. 15, 1712. 
 
 Before this comes to your hands, you will have heard 
 of the most terrible accident that hath almost ever hap- 5 
 pened. This morning at eight, my man brought me word 
 that Duke Hamilton had fought with Lord Mohun, and 
 killed him, and was brought home wounded. I im- 
 mediately sent him to the Duke's house, in St. James's 
 Square ; but the porter could hardly answer for tears, and a 10 
 great rabble was about the house. In short, they fought 
 at seven this morning. The dog Mohun was killed on the 
 spot ; and, while the duke was over him, Mohun shortening 
 his sword, stabbed him in at the shoulder to the heart. 
 The duke was helped towards the cakehouse 'by the ring in 1 £ 
 Hyde Park, (where they fought,) and died on the grass, 
 before he could reach the house ; and was brought home 
 in his coach by eight, while the poor duchess was asleep. 
 Macartney, and one Hamilton, were the seconds, who 
 fought likewise, and are both fled. I am told, that a 20 
 footman of Lord Mohun's stabbed Duke Hamilton; and 
 some say Macartney did so too. Mohun gave the affront, 
 and yet sent the challenge. I am infinitely concerned for 
 the poor duke, who was a frank, honest, good-natured man. 
 I loved him very well, and I think he loved me better. 25 
 He had the greatest mind in the world to have me go with 
 him to France, but durst not tell it me ; and those he did 
 tell, said I could not be spared, which was true. They 
 have removed the poor duchess to a lodging in the neigh- 
 bourhood, where I have been with her two hours, and 30 
 
3 14 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 am just come away. I never saw so melancholy a scene ; 
 for indeed all reasons for real grief belong to her ; nor is it 
 possible for any body to be a greater loser in all regards. 
 She has moved my very soul. The lodging was incon- 
 5 venient, and they would have removed her to another ; but 
 I would not suffer it, because it had no room backward, 
 and she must have been tortured with the noise of the 
 Grub Street screamers mentioning her husband's murder to 
 her ear. 
 
 io ' I believe you have heard the story of my escape, in 
 opening the band-box sent to lord-treasurer. The prints 
 have told a thousand lies of it; but at last we gave 
 them a true account of it at length, printed in The 
 Evening; only I would not suffer them to name me, 
 
 15 having been so often named before, and teazed to death 
 with questions. I wonder how I came to have so much 
 presence of mind, which is usually not my talent ; but so it 
 pleased God, and I saved myself and him; for there was a 
 bullet a piece. A gentleman told me, that if I had been 
 
 20 killed, the Whigs would have called ft a judgment, because 
 the barrels were of inkhorns, with which I had done them 
 so much mischief. There was a pure Grub Street of it, 
 full of lies and inconsistencies. I do not like these things 
 at all, and I wish myself more and more among my willows. 
 
 25 There is a devilish spirit among people, and the ministry 
 must exert themselves, or sink. Nite, dearest sollahs, I'll 
 go to sleep. 
 
 16. I thought to have finished this yesterday; but was 
 too much disturbed. I sent a letter early this morning to 
 
 3° Lady Masham, to beg her to write some comforting words 
 
 to the poor duchess. She has promised me to get the 
 
 Queen to write to the duchess kindly on this occasion ; and 
 
 ' to-morrow I will beg lord-treasurer to visit and comfort her. 
 
 I have been with her two hours again, and find her worse. 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 315 
 
 Her violences not so frequent, but her melancholy more 
 formal and settled. She has abundance of wit and spirit ; 
 about thirty-three years old; handsome and airy, and 
 seldom spared any body that gave her the least provoca- 
 tion; by which she had many enemies, and few friends. 5 
 Lady Orkney, her sister-in-law, is come to town on this 
 occasion, and has been to see her, and behaved herself 
 with great humanity. They have been always very ill 
 together, and the poor duchess could not have patience 
 when people told her I went often to Lady Orkney's. But 10 
 I am resolved to make them friends ; for the duchess is 
 now no more an object of envy, and must learn humility 
 from the severest master, Affliction. I design to make the 
 ministry put out a proclamation (if it can be found proper) 
 against that villain Macartney. What shall we do with 15 
 these murderers ? I cannot end this letter to-night, and 
 there is no occasion ; for I cannot send it till Tuesday, and 
 the coroner's inquest on the duke's body is to be to- 
 morrow, and I shall know more. But what care 00 for 
 all this ? Iss, MD is sorry for Pdfr's friends ; and this is a 20 
 very surprising event. 'Tis late, and I'll go to bed. This 
 looks like journals. Nite. 
 
 1 7. I was to-day at noon with the Duchess of Hamilton 
 again, after I had been with Lady Orkney, and charged her 
 to be kind to her sister in affliction. The duchess told me 25 
 Lady Orkney had been with her, and that she did not treat 
 her as gently as she ought. They hate one another, but I 
 will try to patch it up. ****** 
 
 Letter LVI. 
 
 ******** 
 
 London, Dec. 12, 171 2. I keep no company at all, nor 
 have I any desire to keep any. I never go to a coffee-house 30 
 nor a tavern, nor have touched a card since I left Windsor. 
 
316 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 I make few visits, nor go to levees ; my only debauch is 
 sitting late where I dine, if I like the company. I have 
 almost dropped the Duchesses of Shrewsbury and Hamilton, 
 and several others. Lord-treasurer, the Duke of Ormond, 
 5 and Lady Orkney, are all that I see very often. yes, 
 and Lady Masham and Lord Bolingbroke, and one or two 
 private friends. I make no figure but at court, where I 
 affect to turn from a lord to the meanest of my acquaint- 
 ance, and I love to go there on Sundays to see the world. 
 
 10 But, to say the truth, I am growing weary of it. I dislike a 
 million of things in the course of public affairs ; and if I 
 were to stay here much longer, I am sure I should ruin 
 myself with endeavouring to mend them. I am every day 
 invited into schemes of doing this, but I cannot find any 
 
 15 that will probably succeed. Tis impossible to save people 
 
 against their own will ; and I have been too much engaged 
 
 in patch-work already. ****** 
 
 'Tis late, I'll go to seep. I don't seep well and therefore 
 
 never dare to drink coffee or tea after dinner. But I am 
 
 20 very seepy in a morning. This is the effect of time and 
 years. Nite, dealest MD. 
 
 Letter LVII. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Dec. 27.I met Mr. Addison and Pastoral Philips on the 
 Mall to-day, and took a turn with them; but they both looked 
 terrible dry and cold. A curse of party! And do you 
 
 25 know that I have taken more pains to recommend the Whig 
 wits to the favour and mercy of the ministers than any 
 other people. Steele I have kept in his place. Congreve 
 I have got to be used kindly, and secured. Rowe I have 
 recommended, and got a promise of a place. Philips I 
 
 30 should certainly have provided for, if he had not run party 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 317 
 
 mad and made me withdraw my recommendation, and I set 
 Addison so right at first, that he might have been em- 
 ployed, and have partly secured him the place he has ; yet 
 I am worse used by that faction than any man. * * 
 
 Jan. 3, 1712-13. I am just now told that poor dear Lady 5 
 Ashburnham, the Duke of Ormond's daughter, died yester- 
 day at her country house. The poor creature was with 
 child. She was my greatest favourite, and I am in excessive 
 concern for her loss. I hardly knew a more valuable person 
 on all accounts. You must have heard me talk of her. I 10 
 am afraid to see the duke and duchess. She was naturally 
 very healthy; I am afraid she has been thrown away for 
 want of care. Pray condole with me : 'tis extremely moving. 
 Her lord's a puppy, and I shall never think it worth my 
 while to be troubled with him, now he has lost all that was 15 
 valuable in his possession. Yet I think he used her pretty 
 well. I hate life when I think it exposed to such accidents ; 
 and to see so many thousand wretches burthening the 
 earth, while such as her die, makes me think God did 
 never intend life for a blessing. Farewell. * " 2 ° 
 
 Letter LVIII. 
 London, Jan. 5, 17 12-13. I was to see the poor Duke 
 and Duchess of Ormond this morning. The Duke was in 
 his public room,' with Mr. Southwell and two more gentle- 
 men. When Southwell and I were alone with him, he 
 talked something of Lord Ashburnham, that he was afraid 25 
 the Whigs would get him again. He bore up as well as he 
 could, but something accidentally falling in discourse, the 
 tears were just falling out of his eyes, and I looked off to 
 give him an opportunity (which he took) of wiping them 
 with his handkerchief. I never saw anything so moving, 30 
 nor such a mixture of greatness of mind, and tenderness, 
 and discretion. Nite, MD. * * 
 
31 8 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 8. * * * I dined with lord-treasurer at five o'clock 
 to-day, and was by while he and Lord Bolingbroke were at 
 business; for it is fit I should know all that passes now, 
 because — &c. The Duke of Ormond employed me to speak 
 5 to lord-treasurer to-day about an affair, and I did so ; and 
 the duke had spoke himself two hours before, which vexed 
 me, and I will chide the duke about it. I tell you a good 
 thing; there is not one of the ministry but what will 
 employ me as gravely to speak for them to lord-treasurer, as 
 io if I were their brother or his ; and I do it as gravely : though 
 I know they do it only because they will not make them- 
 selves uneasy, or had rather I should be denied than they. 
 ******* * 
 
 Jan. io. At seven this evening, as we sat after dinner at 
 
 15 lord-treasurer's, a servant said Lord Peterborough was at the 
 door. Lord-treasurer and Lord Bolingbroke went out to 
 meet him, and brought him in. He was just returned from 
 abroad, where he has been above a year. Soon as he 
 saw me, he left the Duke of Ormond and other lords, and 
 
 20 ran and kissed me before he spoke to them ; but chid me 
 terribly for not writing to him, which I never did this last 
 time he was abroad, not knowing where he was; and he 
 changed places so often, it was impossible a letter should 
 overtake him. He left England with a bruise, by his 
 
 25 coach overturning, that made him spit blood, and was 
 so ill, we expected every post to hear of his death ; but he 
 outrode it, or outdrank it, or something, and is come home 
 lustier than ever ; he is at least sixty, and has more spirits 
 than any young fellow I know in England. He has got 
 
 30 the old Oxford regiment of horse, and I believe will have a 
 Garter. I love the hang-dog dearly. Nite, deal MD. 
 
 n. The court was crammed to-day, to see the French 
 ambassador ; but he did not come. Did I never tell you 
 that I go to court on Sundays as to a coffee- house, to see 
 
■ JOURNAL TO STELLA.' 319 
 
 acquaintance, whom I should otherwise not see twice a- 
 year? The provost and I dined with Ned Southwell, by 
 appointment, in order to settle your kingdom, if my scheme 
 can be followed ; but I doubt our ministry will be too 
 tedious. You must certainly have a new parliament ; but 5 
 they would have that a secret yet. Our parliament here 
 will be prorogued for three weeks. Those puppies the 
 Dutch will not yet come in, though they pretend to submit 
 to the Queen in every thing ; but they would fain try first 
 how our session begins, in hopes to embroil us in the 10 
 House of Lords : and if my advice had been taken, the 
 session should have begun, and we would have trusted the 
 parliament to approve the steps already made toward the 
 peace, and had an Address perhaps from them to conclude 
 without the Dutch, if they would not agree. Others are of 15 
 my mind, but it is not reckoned so safe, it seems ; yet I 
 doubt whether the peace will be ready so soon as three 
 weeks, but that is a secret. ****** 
 14. To-day I took the circle of mourning visits. I went 
 to the Duchess of Ormond, and there was she, and Lady 20 
 Betty, and Lord Ashburnham together : this was the first 
 time the mother and daughter saw each other since Lady 
 Ashbprnham's death. They were both in tears, and I chid 
 them for being together, and made Lady Betty go to her 
 own chamber ; then sat a while with the duchess, and went 25 
 after Lady Betty, and all was well. There is something of 
 farce in all these mournings, let them be ever so serious. 
 People will pretend to grieve more than they really do, and 
 that takes off from their true grief. I then went to the 
 I Duchess of Hamilton, who never grieved, but raged, and 30 
 stormed, and railed. She is pretty quiet now, but has a 
 diabolical temper. Lord-keeper and his son, and their two 
 ladies, and I, dined to-day with Mr. Caesar, treasurer of the 
 navy, at his house in the city, where he keeps his office. 
 
330 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 We happened to talk of Brutus, and I said something in 
 his praise, when it struck me immediately that I had made 
 a blunder in doing so ; and therefore, I recollected myself, 
 and said, Mr. Caesar, I beg your pardon. So we laughed, 
 5 &c, Nite, my own dealest little logues, MD. 
 
 Letter LIX. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Feb. 3, 1 712. The Parliament met, and was prorogued, 
 as I said, and I found some cloudy faces, and heard some 
 grumbling. We have got over all our difficulties with 
 France, I think. They have now settled all the articles 
 
 10 of commerce between us and them, wherein they were 
 very much disposed to play the rogue if we had not held 
 them to ; and this business we wait from Spain is to 
 prevent some other rogueries of the French, who are 
 finding an evasion to trade to the Spanish West Indies: 
 
 15 but I hope we shall prevent it. I dined with lord-trea- 
 surer, and he was in good humour enough. I gave him 
 that part of my book in manuscript to read where his 
 character was, and drawn pretty freely. He was reading 
 and correcting it with his pencil, when the Bishop of St. 
 
 20 David's (now removing to Hereford) came and interrupted 
 
 us. I left him at eight, and sat till twelve with the provost 
 
 and Bishop of Clogher at the Provost's. Nite MD. * * 
 
 13. I was to see a poor poet, one Mr. Diaper, in a nasty 
 
 garret, very sick. I gave him twenty guineas from Lord 
 
 25 Bolingbroke, and disposed the other sixty to two other 
 authors, and desired a friend to receive the hundred 
 pounds for poor Harrison, and will carry it him to-morrow 
 morning. I sent to see how he did, and he is extremely 
 ill ; and I very much afflicted for him, for he is my own 
 
 30 creature, and in a very honourable post, and very worthy of 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 32,1 
 
 it. I dined in the city. I am in much concern for this 
 poor lad. His mother and sister attend him, and he wants 
 nothing. Nite, deal MD. 
 
 14. I took Parnell this morning, and we walked to see 
 poor Harrison. I had the hundred pounds in my pocket. 5 
 I told Parnell I was afraid to knock at the door ; my mind 
 misgave me. I knocked, and his man in tears told me his 
 master was dead an hour before. Think what grief this is 
 to me ! I went to his mother, and have been ordering 
 things for his funeral with as little cost as possible, to- 10 
 morrow at ten at night. Lord-treasurer was much con- 
 cerned when I told him. I could not dine with lord- 
 treasurer, nor any where ; but got a bit of meat towards 
 evening. No loss ever grieved me so much : poor creature ! 
 Pray God Almighty bless poor MD. Adieu. I send this 15 
 away to-night, and am sorry it must go while I am in so 
 much grief. 
 
 Letter LX. 
 
 London, Feb. 15, 17 13-13. 
 
 I dined to-day with Mr. Rowe and a projector, who 
 has been teasing me with twenty schemes to get grants; 
 and I don't like one of them ; and, besides, I was out of 20 
 humour for the loss of poor Harrison. At ten this night I 
 was at his funeral, which I ordered to be as private as 
 possible. We had but one coach with four of us; and 
 when it was carrying us home after the funeral, the braces 
 broke ; and we were forced to sit in it, and have it held up, 25 
 till my man went for chairs, at eleven at night in terrible 
 rain. I am come home very melancholy, and will go to 
 bed. Nite, dealest MD. 
 
 16. I dined to-day with Lord Dupplin and some company 
 to divert me ; but left them early, and have been reading 3° 
 
 vol. 1. Y 
 
322 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 a foolish book for amusement. I shall never have courage 
 again to care for making any body's fortune. The parlia- 
 ment meets to-morrow, and will be prorogued another 
 fortnight, at which several of both parties are angry; but 
 
 5 it cannot be helped, though every thing about the peace is 
 past all danger. I never saw such a continuance of rainy 
 weather. We have not had two fair days together these 
 ten weeks. I have not dined with lord-treasurer these four 
 days, nor can till Saturday; for I have several engage- 
 
 10 ments till then, and he will chide me to some purpose. I 
 am perplexed with this hundred pounds of poor Harrison's, 
 what to do with it. I cannot pay his relations till they 
 administer, for he is much in debt; but I will have the 
 stuff in my own hands, and venture nothing. Nite, 
 
 15 dear MD. ********* 
 
 25. Lord-treasurer met me last night at Lord Masham's, 
 
 and thanked me for my company in a jeer, because I had 
 
 not dined with him in three days. He chides if I stay but 
 
 two days away together. What will this come to — nothing. 
 
 20 My grandmother used to say, More of your lining, and less 
 of your dining. * * 
 
 28. I was at court to-day, when the Abb6 Gautier 
 whispered rhe, that a courier was just come with an account 
 that the French king had consented to all the Queen's 
 
 25 demands, and his consent was carried to Utrecht, and the 
 peace will be signed in a few days. I suppose the general 
 peace cannot be so soon ready; but that is no matter. 
 The news presently ran about the court. * * * * 
 
 Letter LXI. 
 
 ******** 
 
 March 6, 1 7 1 2. I was to-day at an auction of pictures with 
 3° Pratt, and laid out two pounds five shillings for a picture of 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 333 
 
 Titian, and if it were a Titian it would be worth twice as 
 many pounds. If I am cheated, I'll part with it to Lord 
 Masham : if it be a bargain, I'll keep it to myself. That's 
 my conscience. But I made Pratt buy several pictures for 
 Lord Masham. Pratt is a great virtuoso that way. I 5 
 dined with lord-treasurer, but made him go to court at 
 eight. I always tease him to be gone. I thought to have 
 made Parnell dine with him, but he was ill ; his head is out 
 of order like mine, but more constant, poor boy ! I was at 
 lord-treasurer's levee with the provost, to ask a book for the 10 
 college. I never go to his levee, unless to present some- 
 body ********* 
 
 10. I was early this morning to see Lord Bolingbroke. 
 I find he was of opinion the parliament should sit ; and 
 says they are not sure the peace will be signed next week. 15 
 The prorogation is to this day se'ennight. I went to look 
 on a library I am going to buy, if we can agree. I have 
 offered a hundred and twenty pounds, and will give ten 
 more. Lord Bolingbroke will lend me the money. I was 
 two hours poring on the books. I will sell some of them, 20 
 and keep the rest ; but I doubt they won't take the money. 
 
 12. I was at another auction of pictures to-day, and a 
 great auction it was. I made Lord Masham lay out forty 
 pounds. There were pictures sold of twice as much value 25 
 a-piece. Our society met to-day at the Duke of Beaufort's: 
 a prodigious fine dinner, which I hate j but we did some 
 business. Our printer was to attend us, as usual ; and the 
 chancellor of the exchequer sent the author of the Examiner 
 twenty guineas. He is an ingenious fellow, but the most 30 
 confounded vain coxcomb in the world, so that I dare not 
 let him see me, nor am acquainted with him. I had much 
 discourse with the Duke of Ormond this morning, and am 
 driving some points to secure *****. I left the society at 
 
 y 2 
 
324 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 seven. I can't drink now at all with any pleasure. I love 
 white Portugal wine better than claret, champaign, or 
 burgundy. I have a sad vulgar appetite. I remember 
 Ppt used to maunder, when I came from a great dinner, 
 5 and DD had but a bit of mutton. I cannot endure above 
 one dish; nor ever could since I was a boy, and loved 
 stuffing. It was a fine day, which is a rarity with us, 
 I assure you. Never fair two days together. Nite, 
 deal MD. ******** 
 
 10 15. Lord-treasurer engaged me to dine with him again 
 to-day, and I had ready what he wanted ; but he would not 
 see it, but put me off till to-morrow. The Queen goes to 
 chapel now. She is carried in an open chair, and will be 
 well enough to go to parliament on Tuesday, if the Houses 
 
 15 meet, which is not yet certain; neither, indeed, can the 
 ministers themselves tell; for it depends on winds and 
 weather, and circumstances of negotiation. However, we 
 go on as if it was certainly to meet; and I am to be at 
 lord-treasurer's to-morrow, upon that supposition, to settle 
 
 20 some things relating that way. ***** 
 
 Letter LXII. 
 
 London, March si, 1712-13. 
 I gave your letter in this night. I dined with lord- 
 treasurer to-day, and find he has been at a meeting at 
 Lord Halifax's house, with four principal Whigs ; but he is 
 resolved to begin a speech against them when the parlia- 
 
 25 ment sits ; and I have begged that the ministry may have a 
 meeting on purpose to settle that matter, and let us be the 
 attackers ; and I believe it will come to something, for the 
 Whigs intend to attack the ministers : and if, instead of 
 that, the ministers attack the Whigs, it will be better : and 
 
 30 farther, I believe we shall attack them on those very points 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 335 
 
 they intend to attack us. The parliament will be again 
 prorogued for a fortnight, because of Passion-week. * * 
 
 24. * * Our peace will certainly be ready by Thursday 
 fortnight; but our plenipotentiaries were to blame that it 
 was not done already. They thought their powers were not 5 
 full enough to sign the peace, unless every prince was ready, 
 which cannot yet be; for Spain has no minister yet at 
 Utrecht ; but now ours have new orders. * * * * 
 
 April 3, 1 713. I was at the Queen's chapel to-day, but she 
 
 was not there. Mr. St. John, Lord Bol 's brother, came 10 
 
 this day at noon with an express from Utrecht, that the 
 peace is signed by all the ministers there, but those of the 
 Emperor, who will likewise sign in a few days ; so that 
 now the great work is in effect done, and I believe it will 
 appear a most excellent peace for Europe, particularly for 15 
 England. Addison and I, and some others, dined with Lord 
 
 Bol , and sate with him till twelve. We were very civil, 
 
 but yet when we grew warm, we talked in a friendly 
 manner of party. Addison raised his objections, and Lord 
 
 Bol answered them with great complaisance. Ad- 20 
 
 dison began Lord Somers's health, which went about ; but 
 
 I bid him not name Lord Wh 's, for I would not 
 
 pledge it; and I told Lord Bol frankly, that 
 
 Addison loved Lord Wh as little as I did : so we 
 
 laughed, &c. Well, but you are glad of the peace, you 25 
 Ppt the trimmer, are not you ? As for DD I don't doubt 
 her. Why, now, if I did not think Ppt had been a violent 
 Tory, and DD the greater Whig of the two ! 'Tis late. 
 Nite, MD. ******** 
 
 6. I was this morning at ten at the rehearsal of Mr. 30 
 Addison's play, called Cato, which is to be acted on Fri- 
 day. There were not above half-a-score of us to see it. 
 We stood on the stage, and it was foolish enough to see 
 the actors prompted every moment, and the poet directing 
 
326 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 them; and the drab that acts Cato's daughter out in 
 the midst of a passionate part, and then calling out, 
 ' What's next ? ' Bishop of Clogher was there too ; but he 
 stood privately in a gallery. I went to dine with lord- 
 5 treasurer, but he was gone to Wimbledon, his daughter 
 Caermarthen's country seat, seven miles off. So I went 
 back, and dined privately with Mr. Addison, whom I had 
 left to go to lord-treasurer. ****** 
 
 Letter LXIII. 
 
 April 13, 1 7 13. This morning, my friend, Mr. Lewis, came 
 
 10 to me, and showed me an order for a warrant for the three 
 vacant deaneries ; but none of them to me. This was what 
 I always foresaw, and received the notice of it better, I be- 
 lieve, than he expected. I bid Mr. Lewis tell lord-treasurer, 
 that I took nothing ill of him, but his not giving me timely 
 
 15 notice, as he promised to do, if he found the Queen would 
 do nothing for me. At noon, lord-treasurer hearing I was in 
 Mr. Lewis's office, came to me, and said many things too 
 long to repeat. I told him I had nothing to do but go to 
 Ireland immediately ; for I could not, with any reputation, 
 
 30 stay longer here, unless I had something honourable im- 
 mediately given to me. We dined together at the Duke of 
 Ormond's. He there told me, he had stopped the warrants 
 for the deans, that what was done for me might be at the 
 same time, and he hoped to compass it to-night ; but I be- 
 
 25 lieve him not. I told the duke of Ormond my intentions. 
 He is content Sterne should be a bishop, and I have St. 
 Patrick's ; but I believe nothing will come of it, for stay I 
 will not ; and so I believe, for all, you may see me in Dublin 
 before April ends. I am less out of humour than you would 
 
 30 imagine : and if it were not that impertinent people will 
 condole with me, as they used to give me joy, I would value 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 327 
 
 it less. But I will avoid company, and muster up my baggage, 
 and send them next Monday by the carrier to Chester, and 
 come and see my willows, against the expectation of all the 
 world. — Hot care I ? Nite, dealest logues, MD. 
 
 14. I dined in the city to-day, and ordered a lodging to 5 
 be got ready for me against I came to pack up my things ; 
 for I will leave this end of the town as soon as ever the 
 warrants for the deaneries are out, which are yet stopped. 
 Lord-treasurer told Mr. Lewis, that it should be determined 
 to-night : and so he will say a hundred nights. So he said 10 
 yesterday, but I value it not. My daily journals shall be 
 but short till I get into the city, and then I will send away 
 this, and follow it myself; and design to walk it all the way 
 
 to Chester, my man and I, by ten miles a-day. It will do 
 my health a great deal of good. I shall do it in fourteen 15 
 days. Nite, deal MD. 
 
 15. Lord Bol ■ made me dine with him to-day. 
 
 He was as good company as ever : and told me the Queen 
 would determine something for me to-night. The dispute 
 is, Windsor or St. Patrick's. I told him I would not stay 20 
 for their disputes, and he thought I was in the right. Lord 
 Masham told me, that Lady Masham is angry I have not 
 been to see her since this business, and desires I will come 
 to-morrow. 
 
 16. I was this noon at Lady Masham's, who was just 25 
 come from Kensington, where her eldest son is sick. She 
 said much to me of what she had talked to Queen and 
 lord-treasurer. The poor lady fell a shedding tears openly. 
 She could not bear to think of my having St. Patrick's, &c. 
 
 I was never more moved than to see so much friendship. 30 
 I would not stay with her, but went and dined with Dr. 
 Arbuthnot, with Mr. Berkeley, one of your Fellows, whom I 
 have recommended to the doctor, and to Lord Berkeley of 
 Stratton. Mr. Lewis tells me, that the Duke of Ormond 
 
328 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 has been to-day with Queen; and she was content, that 
 Dr. Sterne should be Bishop of Dromore, and I Dean of 
 St. Patrick's ; but then out came lord-treasurer, and said, 
 he would not be satisfied, but that I must be Prebend of 
 5 Windsor. Thus he perplexes things. I expect neither ; 
 but I confess, as much as I love England, I am so angry at 
 this treatment, that, if I had my choice, I would rather 
 have St. Patrick's. Lady Masham says she will speak to 
 purpose to Queen to-morrow. Nite, deal MD. 
 
 10 17. I went to dine at Lady Masham's to-day, and she 
 was taken ill of a sore throat, and aguish. She spoke to 
 Queen last night, but had not much time. Queen says 
 she will determine to-morrow with lord-treasurer. The 
 warrants for the deaneries are still stopped, for fear I should 
 
 15 be gone. Do you think any thing will be done? I don't 
 care whether it is or no. In the mean time, I prepare for 
 my journey, and see no great people, nor will see lord- 
 treasurer any more, if I go. Lord-treasurer told Mr. Lewis 
 it should be done to-night ; so he said five nights ago. 
 
 20 Nite, MD. 
 
 18. This morning Mr. Lewis sent me word that lord- 
 treasurer told him Queen would determine at noon. At 
 three lord-treasurer sent to me to come to his lodgings 
 at St. James's, and told me the Queen was at last resolved, 
 
 25 that Dr. Sterne should be Bishop of Dromore, and I Dean 
 of St. Patrick's ; and that Sterne's warrant should be drawn 
 immediately. You know the deanery is in the Duke of 
 Ormond's gift ; but this is concerted between the Queen, 
 lord-treasurer, and the Duke of Ormond, to make room for 
 
 30 me. I do not know whether it will yet be done ; some 
 unlucky accident may yet come. Neither can I feel joy at 
 passing my days in Ireland ; and I confess, I thought the 
 ministry would not let me go ; but perhaps they can't help 
 it. Nite, MD. 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 339 
 
 19. I forgot to tell you, that lord-treasurer forced me to 
 dine with him yesterday as usual, with his Saturday com- 
 pany ; which I did after frequent refusals. To-day I dined 
 with a private friend, and was not at court. After dinner 
 Mr. Lewis sent me a note, that Queen staid till she knew 5 
 whether the Duke of Ormond approved of Sterne for a 
 bishop. I went this evening, and found the Duke of 
 Ormond at the cock-pit, and told him, and desired he 
 would go to Queen and approve of Sterne. He made 
 objections, and desired I would name any other deanery, 10 
 for he did not like Sterne ; that Sterne never went to see 
 him ; that he was influenced by the Archbishop of Dublin, 
 &c. ; so all is now broken again. I sent out for lord- 
 treasurer, and told him this. He says all will do well ; but 
 
 I value not what he says. This suspense vexes me worse 15 
 than any thing else. Nite, MD. 
 
 20. I went to-day, by appointment, to the cock-pit, to 
 talk with the Duke of Ormond. He repeated the same 
 proposals of any other deanery, &c. I desired he would 
 put me out of the case, and do as he pleased. Then, with 20 
 great kindness, he said he would consent ; but would do it 
 for no man aliye but me, &c. And he will speak to the 
 Queen to-day or to-morrow; so, perhaps, something will 
 come of it. I can't tell. 
 
 21. The Duke of Ormond has told Queen he is 25 
 satisfied that Sterne should be bishop, and she consents 
 
 I shall be dean ; and I suppose the warrants will be drawn 
 in a day or two. I dined at an alehouse with Parnell and 
 Berkeley; for I am not in humour to go among the 
 ministers, though Lord Dartmouth invited me to dine with 30 
 him to-day, and lord-treasurer was to be there. I said 
 I would, if I were out of suspense. Nite, dealest MD. 
 
 22. Queen says warrants shall be drawn, but she will 
 dispose of all in England and Ireland at once, to be teased 
 
330 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 no more. This will delay it some time ; and, while it is 
 delayed, I am not sure of Queen, my enemies being 
 busy. I hate this suspense. 
 
 23. I dined yesterday with General Hamilton : I forgot 
 5 to tell 00. I write short journals now. I have eggs on 
 the spit. This night the Queen has signed all the warrants, 
 among which Sterne is Bishop of Dromore, and the Duke 
 of Ormond is to send over an order for making me Dean of 
 St. Patrick's. I have no doubt of him at all. I think 'tis 
 
 10 now past. And I suppose MD is malicious enough to be 
 glad, and rather have it than Wells. But you see what a 
 condition I am in. I thought I was to pay but six hundred 
 pounds for the house; but the Bishop of Clogher says 
 eight hundred pounds; first-fruits one hundred and fifty 
 
 15 pounds, and so, with patent, a thousand pounds in all ; so 
 that I shall not be the better for the deanery these three 
 years. I hope in some time they will be persuaded here to 
 give me some money to pay off these debts. I must finish 
 the book I am writing, before I can come over ; and they 
 
 20 expect I shall pass next winter here, and then I will drive 
 them to give me a sum of money. However, I hope to 
 pass four or five months with MD, whatever comes on it. 
 I received * * * to-night ; just ten weeks since I had your 
 last. I shall write next post to Bishop Sterne. Never man 
 
 25 had so many enemies of Ireland as he. I carried it with 
 the strongest hand possible. If he does not use me well 
 and gently in what dealings I shall have with him, he 
 will be the most ungrateful of mankind. The Archbishop 
 of York, my mortal enemy, has sent, by a third hand, that 
 
 30 he would be glad to see me. Shall I see him, or not ? 
 I hope to be over in a month, and that MD, with 
 their raillery, will be mistaken, that I shall make it three 
 years. I will answer oor rettle soon ; but no more journals. 
 I shall be very busy. Short letters from henceforward. 
 
JOURNAL TO STELLA. 331 
 
 I shall not part with Laracor. That is all I have to live 
 on, except the deanery be worth more than four hundred 
 pounds a-year. Is it ? If it be, overplus shall be divided 
 *****, beside usual *****. Pray write to me a good- 
 humoured letter immediately, let it be ever so short. This 5 
 affair was carried with great difficulty, which vexes me. 
 But they say here, 'tis much to my reputation that I have 
 made a bishop, in spite of all the world, to get the best 
 deanery in Ireland. Nite, deal MD. * * * * 
 
 25. Morning. I know not whether my warrant be got 10 
 ready from the Duke of Ormond. I suppose it will by 
 to-night. I am going abroad, and will keep this unsealed, 
 till I know whether all be finished. 
 
 I had this letter all day in my pocket, waiting till I heard 
 the warrants were gone over. Mr. Lewis sent to Southwell's 15 
 clerk at ten ; and he said the Bishop of Killaloo had 
 desired they should be stopped till next post. He sent 
 again, that the Bishop of Killaloo's business had nothing to 
 do with ours. Then I went myself, but it was past eleven, 
 and asked the reason. Killaloo is removed to Rapho, and 20 
 he has a mind to have an order for the rents of Rapho, 
 that have fallen since the vacancy, and he would have 
 all stop till he has got that. A pretty request ! But the 
 clerk, at Mr. Lewis's message, sent the warrants for Sterne 
 and me ; but it was then too late to send this, which frets 25 
 me heartily, that MD should not have intelligence first 
 from Pdfr. I think to take a hundred pounds a-year out of 
 the deanery, and divide it between MD and D but will talk 
 of that when I come over. Nite, deal MD. Love Pdfr. 
 
 26. I was at court to-day, and a thousand people gave 30 
 me joy ; so I ran out. I dined with Lady Orkney. Yes- 
 terday I dined with lord-treasurer and his Saturday people 
 
 as usual; and was so bedeaned ! The Archbishop of York 
 says, he will never more speak against me. 
 
332 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Letter LXV. 
 
 Chester, June 6, 1713. 
 
 I am come here after six days. I set out on Monday 
 last, and got here to-day about eleven in the morning. A 
 noble rider, faith ! and all the ships and people went off 
 yesterday with a rare wind. This was told me, to my 
 5 comfort, upon my arrival. Having not used riding these 
 three years, made me terrible weary; yet I resolve on 
 Monday to set out for Holyhead, as weary as I am : 'tis 
 good for my health, man. When I came here, I found 
 MD's letter of the 26th of May, sent down to me. Had 
 
 10 you writ a post sooner, I might have brought some pins : 
 but you were lazy, and would not write your orders im- 
 mediately, as I desired you. I will come, when God 
 pleases ; perhaps I may be with you in a week. I will be 
 three days going to Holyhead ; I cannot ride faster, say 
 
 15 hot 00 will. I am upon Stay-behind's mare. I have the 
 whole inn to myself. I would fain 'scape this Holyhead 
 journey ; but I have no prospect of ships, and it will be 
 almost necessary I should be in Dublin before the 25th 
 instant, to take the oaths; otherwise I must wait to a 
 
 20 quarter session. I will lodge as I can ; therefore take no 
 lodgings for me, to pay in my absence. The poor dean 
 can't afford it. Farewell. 
 
CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE 
 EXAMINER. 
 
 After the formation of the Tory ministry under Harley in 1710, a. 
 weekly periodical was established, and continued for some months 
 to be issued every Thursday. The leading Tory writers for a time 
 kept it up between them : but the want of a single guiding hand was 
 soon felt. By November in that year Swift, as will be seen from 
 the Journal, had fully thrown in his lot with the Tory party : and 
 from the 2nd of November to the 14th of June, the papers all came 
 from his hand. They contain specimens not only of his best political 
 writing, but also of that which has most general interest beyond its 
 bearing on the passing questions of the day. 
 
 THE EXAMINER. 
 
 No. XIII. 
 
 THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1710. 
 longa est injuria, longae 
 
 Ambages; sed summa sequar fastigia rerum. 
 
 The tale is intricate, perplexed, and long : 
 Hear then, in short, the story of her wrong. 
 
 It is a practice I have generally followed, to converse in 
 equal freedom with the deserving men of both parties ; and 
 it was never without some contempt that I have observed 
 persons, wholly out of employment, affect to do otherwise. 
 I doubted whether any man could owe so much to the side he 5 
 was of, although he were retained by it ; but without some 
 
334 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 great point of interest, either in possession or prospect, I 
 thought it was the mark of a low and narrow spirit. 
 
 It is hard, that, for some weeks past, I have been forced, 
 in my own defence, to follow a proceeding that I have so 
 5 much condemned in others. But several of my acquaintance 
 among the declining party are grown so insufferably peevish 
 and splenetic, profess such violent apprehensions for the 
 public, and represent the state of things in such formidable 
 ideas, that I find myself disposed to share in their afflictions; 
 
 10 although I know them to be groundless and imaginary, or, 
 which is worse, purely affected. To offer them comfort one 
 by one, would be not only an endless, but a disobliging 
 task. Some of them, I am convinced, would be less 
 melancholy, if there were more occasion. I shall, there- 
 
 15 fore, instead of hearkening to further complaints, employ 
 some part of this paper for the future, in letting such men 
 see, that their natural or acquired fears are ill-founded, and 
 their artificial ones as ill-intended ; that all our present in- 
 conveniences are the consequence of the very counsels they 
 
 20 so much admire, which would still have increased, if those 
 had continued ; and that neither our constitution in church . 
 or state could probably have been long preserved, without 
 such methods as have been already taken. 
 
 The late revolutions at court have given room to some 
 
 25 specious objections, which I have heard repeated by well- 
 meaning men, just as they had taken them up on the credit 
 of others, who have worse designs. They wonder the queen 
 would choose to change her ministry at this juncture, and 
 thereby give uneasiness to a general who hath been so long 
 
 30 successful abroad, and might think himself injured, if the 
 entire ministry were not of his own nomination ; and there 
 were few complaints of any consequence against the late 
 men in power, and none at all in parliament, which, on the 
 contrary, passed votes in favour of the chief minister ; that 
 
THE EXAMINER. 335 
 
 if her majesty had a mind to introduce the other party, it 
 would have been more seasonable after a peace, which now 
 we have made desperate, by spiriting the French, who rejoice 
 in these changes, and by the fall of our credit, which un- 
 qualifies us for carrying on the war; that the parliament, 5 
 so untimely dissolved, had been diligent in their supplies, 
 and dutiful in their behaviour ; that one consequence of 
 these changes appears already in the fall of the stocks ; that 
 we may soon expect more and worse ; and lastly, that all 
 this naturally tends to break the settlement of the Crown, 10 
 and call over the Pretender. 
 
 These and the like notions are plentifully scattered 
 abroad by the malice of a ruined party, to render the 
 queen and her administration odious, and to inflame the 
 nation. And these are what, upon occasion, I shall en- 15 
 deavour to overthrow, by discovering the falsehood and 
 absurdity of them. 
 
 It is a great unhappiness, when, in a government con- 
 stituted like ours, it should be so brought about, that the 
 continuance of a war must be for the interest of vast 20 
 . numbers, (civil as well as military,) who otherwise would 
 have been as unknown as their original. I think our 
 present condition of affairs is admirably described by two 
 verses in Lucan : 
 
 Hinc usura vorax, avidumque in tempore foenus, 25 
 
 Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum : 
 
 which, without any great force upon the words, may be 
 thus translated : 
 
 Hence are derived those exorbitant interests and an- 
 nuities ; hence those large discounts for advance and 30 
 prompt payment; hence public credit is shaken; and 
 hence great numbers find their profit in prolonging the 
 war. 
 
336 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 It is odd, that among a free trading people, as we call 
 ourselves, there should so many be found to close in with 
 those counsels, who have been ever averse from all over- 
 tures towards a peace : but yet there is no great mystery in 
 5 the matter. Let any man observe the equipages in this 
 town, he shall find the greater number of those who make 
 a figure to be a species of men quite different from any 
 that were ever known before the Revolution; consisting 
 either of generals and colonels, or of those whose whole 
 
 io fortunes lie in funds and stocks ; , so that power, which, 
 according to the old maxim, was used to follow land, is 
 now gone over to money; and the country gentleman is in 
 the condition of a young heir, out of whose estate a scrivener 
 receives half the rents for interest, and hath a mortgage on 
 
 15 the whole ; and is therefore, always ready to feed his vices 
 and extravagances, while there is any thing left. So that, if 
 the war continue some years longer, a landed man will be 
 little better than a farmer of a rack-rent to the army, and 
 to the public funds. 
 
 20 It may, perhaps, be worth inquiring, from what be- 
 ginnings, and by what steps, we have been brought into 
 this desperate condition : and in search of this, we must 
 run up as high as the Revolution. 
 
 Most of the nobility and gentry, who invited over the 
 
 25 Prince of Orange, or attended him in his expedition, were 
 true lovers of their country, and its constitution in church 
 and state ; and were brought to yield to those breaches in 
 the succession of the crown, out of a regard to the necessity 
 of the kingdom and the safety of the people, which did, 
 
 30 and could, only make them lawful ; but without intention of 
 drawing such a practice into precedent, or making it a 
 standing measure by which to proceed in all times to come : 
 and, therefore, we find their counsels ever tended to keep 
 things, as much as possible, in the old course. But soon 
 
THE EXAMINER. 337 
 
 after, an under set of men who had nothing to lose, and 
 had neither borne the burden nor heat of the day, found 
 means to whisper in the king's ear that the principles of 
 loyalty in the Church of England were wholly inconsistent 
 with the Revolution. Hence began the early practice of 5 
 caressing the dissenters, reviling the universities as main- 
 tainers of arbitrary power, and reproaching the clergy with 
 the doctrines of divine right, passive obedience, and non- 
 resistance. At the same time, in order to fasten wealthy 
 people to the new government, they proposed those 10 
 pernicious expedients of borrowing money by vast pre- 
 miums, and at extortionate interest : a practice as old as 
 Eumenes, one of Alexander's captains, who, setting up for 
 himself after the death of his master, persuaded his principal 
 officers to lend him great sums, after which they were forced 15 
 to follow him for their own security. 
 
 This introduced a number of new dexterous men into 
 business and credit. It was argued, that the war could not 
 last above two or three campaigns ; and that it was easier 
 for the subjects to raise a fund for paying interest, than to 20 
 tax them annually to the full expense of the war. Several 
 persons, who had small or encumbered estates, sold them, 
 and turned their money into those funds, to great advantage : 
 merchants, as well as other monied men, finding trade was 
 dangerous, pursued the same method. But the war con- 25 
 tinuing, and growing more expensive, taxes were increased, 
 and funds multiplied every year, till they have arrived at the 
 monstrous height we now behold them ; and that, which 
 was at first a corruption, is at last grown necessary, and 
 what every good subject must now fall in with, although he 30 
 may be allowed to wish it might soon have an end ; because 
 it is with a kingdom as with a private fortune, where every 
 new incumbrance adds a double weight. By this means 
 the wealth of a nation, that used to be reckoned by the 
 
 vol. 1. z 
 
338 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 value of land, is now computed by the rise and fall of 
 stocks : and although the foundation of credit be still the 
 same, and upon a bottom that, can never be shaken, and 
 although all interest be duly paid by the public, yet, through 
 5 the contrivance and cunning of stock-jobbers, there has 
 been brought in such a complication of knavery and 
 cozenage, such a mystery of iniquity, and such an unin- 
 telligible jargon of terms to involve it in, as were never 
 known in any other age or country in the world. I have 
 
 10 heard it affirmed, by persons skilled in these calculations, 
 that if the funds appropriated to the payment of interest 
 and annuities were added to the yearly taxes, and the four- 
 shilling aid strictly exacted in all counties of the kingdom, 
 it would very near, if not fully, supply the occasions of the 
 
 15 war, at least such a part as, in the opinion of very able 
 persons, had been at that time prudent not to exceed. For 
 I make it a question, whether any wise prince or state, in 
 the continuance of a war, which was not purely defensive, 
 or immediately at his own door, did ever propose that his 
 
 20 expense should perpetually exceed what he was able to 
 impose annually upon his subjects. Neither, if the war 
 last many years longer, do I see how the next generation 
 will be able to begin another; which, in the course of 
 human affairs, and according to the various interests and 
 
 25 ambition of princes, may be as necessary for them as it hath 
 been for us. And if our fathers had left us deeply involved, 
 as we are likely to leave our children, I appeal to any man, 
 what sort of figure we should have been able to make these 
 twenty years past. Besides, neither our enemies nor allies 
 
 30 are upon the same foot with us in this particular. France 
 and Holland, our nearest neighbours, and the farthest en- 
 gaged, will much sooner recover themselves after a war: 
 the first, by the absolute power of the prince, who, being 
 master of the lives and fortunes of his subjects, will quickly 
 
THE EXAMINER. 339 
 
 find expedients to pay his debts; and so will the other, 
 by their prudent administration, the greatness of their trade, 
 their wonderful parsimony, the willingness of their people to 
 undergo all kind of taxes, and their justice in applying, as 
 well as collecting them. But above all, we are to consider 5 
 that France and Holland fight on the continent, either upon 
 or near their own territories, and the greatest part of the 
 money circulates among themselves ; whereas ours crosses 
 the sea, either to Flanders, Spain, or Portugal; and every 
 penny of it, whether in species or returns, is so much lost to 10 
 the nation for ever. 
 
 Upon these considerations alone, it was the most prudent 
 course imaginable in the queen, to lay hold of the disposition 
 of the people for changing the parliament and ministry at 
 this juncture, and extricating herself as soon as possible out 15 
 of the pupillage of those who found their accounts only in 
 perpetuating the war. Neither have we the least reason to 
 doubt but the ensuing parliament will assist her majesty 
 with the utmost vigour, until her enemies again be brought 
 to sue for peace, and again offer such terms as will make 20 
 it both honourable and lasting; only with this difference, 
 that the ministry perhaps will not again refuse them. 
 
 Audiet fiugnas, vitio parentum 
 Kara, Juventus. 
 
 Hor. Book I. Ode 2. 
 
 Z 2 
 
340 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 No. XIV. 
 
 THURSDAY, NOVEMBER g, 1710. 
 
 E quibus hi vacuas implent sermonibus aures, 
 Hi narrata ferunt alio : mensuraque ficti 
 Crescit, et auditis aliquid novus adjicit auctor. ' 
 Illic Credulitas, illic temerarius Error, 
 Vanaque Laetitia est, constematique Timores, 
 Seditioque recens, dubioque auclore Susurri. 
 
 With idle tales this fills our empty ears ; 
 The next reports what from the first he hears ; 
 The rolling fictions grow in strength and size, 
 Each author adding to the former lies. 
 Here vain credulity, with new desires, 
 Leads us astray, and groundless joy inspires; 
 The dubious whispers, tumults fresh design'd, 
 And chilling fears astound the anxious mind. 
 
 I am prevailed on, through the importunity of friends, to 
 interrupt the scheme I had begun in my last paper, by an 
 Essay upon the Art of Political Lying. We are told the 
 devil is the father of lies, and was a liar from the beginning ; 
 
 5 so that, beyond contradiction, the invention is old : and, 
 which is more, his first Essay of it was purely political, 
 employed in undermining the authority of his prince, and 
 seducing a third part of the subjects from their obedience : 
 for which he was driven down from Heaven, where (as 
 
 10 Milton expresses it) he had been viceroy of a great western 
 province ; and forced to exercise his talent in inferior 
 regions among other fallen spirits, poor or deluded men, 
 whom he still daily tempts to his own sin, and will ever do 
 so, till he be chained in the bottomless pit. 
 
 15 But although the devil be the father of lies, he seems, 
 like other great inventors, to have lost much of his re- 
 
THE EXAMINER. 341 
 
 putation, by the continual improvements that have been 
 made upon him. 
 
 Who first reduced lying into an art, and adapted it to 
 politics, is not so clear from history, although I have made 
 some diligent inquiries. I shall therefore consider it only 5 
 according to the modern system, as it has been cultivated 
 these twenty years past in the southern part of our own 
 island. 
 
 The poets tell us, that after the giants were overthrown 
 by the gods, the earth in revenge produced her last offspring, 10 
 which was Fame. And the fable is thus interpreted : that 
 when tumults and seditions are quieted, rumours and false 
 reports are plentifully spread through a nation. So that, by 
 this account, lying is the last relief of a routed, earth-born, 
 rebellious party in a state. But here the moderns have 15 
 made great additions, applying this art to the gaining of 
 power and preserving it, as well as revenging themselves 
 after they have lost it ; as the same instruments are made 
 use of by animals to feed themselves when they are hungry, 
 and to bite those that tread upon them. 20 
 
 But the same genealogy cannot always be admitted for 
 political lying; I shall therefore desire to refine upon it, 
 by adding some circumstances of its birth and parents. A 
 political lie is sometimes born out of a discarded states- 
 man's head, and thence delivered to be nursed and dandled 25 
 by the rabble. Sometimes it is produced a monster, and 
 licked into shape : at other times it comes into the world 
 completely formed, and is spoiled in the licking. It is often 
 born an infant in the regular way, and requires time to 
 mature it ; and often it sees the light in its full growth, but 30 
 dwindles away by degrees. Sometimes it is of noble birth ; 
 and sometimes the spawn of a stock-jobber. Here it 
 screams aloud at the opening of the womb ; and there it is 
 delivered with a whisper. I know a lie that now disturbs 
 
343 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 half the kingdom with its noise, which, although too proud 
 and great at present to own its parents, I can remember its 
 whisperhood. To conclude the nativity of this monster; 
 when it comes into the world without a sting, it is still-born ; 
 5 and whenever it loses its sting, it dies. 
 
 No wonder if an infant so miraculous in its birth should 
 be destined for great adventures ; and accordingly we see 
 it hath been the guardian spirit of a prevailing party for 
 almost twenty years. It can conquer kingdoms without 
 
 io righting, and sometimes with the loss of a battle. It gives 
 and resumes employments ; can sink a mountain to a mole- 
 hill, and raise a mole-hill to a mountain : hath presided for 
 many years at committees of elections ; can wash a black- 
 moor white ; make a saint of an atheist, and a patriot of a 
 
 15 profligate ; can furnish foreign ministers with intelligence, 
 and raise or let fall the credit of the nation. This goddess 
 flies with a huge looking-glass in her hands, to dazzle the 
 crowd, and make them see, according as she turns it, their 
 ruin in their interest, and their interest in their ruin. In 
 
 20 this glass you will behold your best friends, clad in coats 
 powdered -with, fleurs de lis, and triple crowns ; their girdles 
 hung round with chains, and beads, and wooden shoes ; 
 and your worst enemies adorned with the ensigns of liberty, 
 property, indulgence, moderation, and a cornucopia in their 
 
 25 hands. Her large wings, like those of a flying-fish, are of 
 no use but while they are moist ; she therefore dips them 
 in mud, and soaring aloft scatters it in the eyes -of the mul- 
 titude, flying with great swiftness ; but at every turn is 
 forced to stoop in dirty ways for new supplies. 
 
 30 I have been sometimes thinking, if a man had the art of 
 the second sight for seeing lies, as they have in Scotland 
 for seeing spirits, how admirably he might entertain himself 
 in this town, by observing the different shapes, sizes, and 
 colours of those swarms of lies which buzz about the heads 
 
THE EXAMINER. 343 
 
 of some people, like flies about a horse's ears in summer ; or 
 those legions hovering every afternoon in Exchange-alley, 
 enough to darken the air ; or over a club of discontented 
 grandees, and thence sent down in cargoes to be scattered 
 at elections. 5 
 
 There is one essential point wherein a political liar differs 
 from others of the faculty, that he ought to have but a short 
 memory, which is necessary, according to the various occa- 
 sions he meets with every hour of differing from himself, 
 and swearing to both sides of a contradiction, as he finds 10 
 the persons disposed with whom he hath to deal. In 
 describing the virtues and vices of mankind, it is con- 
 venient, upon every article, to have some eminent person in 
 our eye, from whom we copy our description. I have 
 strictly observed this rule, and my imagination this minute 15 
 represents before me a certain great man famous for this 
 talent, to the constant practice of which he owes his twenty 
 years' reputation of the most skilful head in England, for 
 the management of nice affairs. The superiority of his 
 genius consists in nothing else but an inexhaustible fund of 20 
 political lies, which he plentifully distributes every minute 
 he speaks, and by an unparalleled generosity forgets, and 
 ' consequently contradicts, the next half hour. He never yet 
 considered whether any proposition were true or false, but 
 whether it were convenient for the present minute or com- 25 
 pany to affirm or deny it ; so that if you think fit to refine 
 upon him, by interpreting every thing he says, as we do 
 dreams, by the contrary, you are still to seek, and will find 
 yourself equally deceived whether you believe or not : the 
 only remedy is to suppose, that you have heard some inar- 30 
 ticulate sounds, without any meaning at all ; and besides, 
 that will take off the horror you might be apt to conceive at 
 the oaths, wherewith he perpetually tags both ends of every 
 proposition ; although, at the same time, I think he cannot 
 
344 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 with any justice be taxed with perjury, when he invokes 
 God and Christ, because he hath often fairly given public 
 notice to the world that he believes in neither. 
 
 Some people may think, that such an accomplishment as 
 
 j this can be of no great use to the owner, or his party, after 
 it has been often practised, and is become notorious ; but 
 they are widely mistaken. Few lies carry the inventor's 
 mark, and the most prostitute enemy to truth may spread a 
 thousand, without being known for the author : besides, as 
 
 io the vilest writer hath his readers, so the greatest liar hath his 
 believers : and it often happens, that if a lie be believed 
 only for an hour, it hath done its work, and there is no 
 farther occasion for it. Falsehood flies, and truth comes 
 limping after it, so that when men come to be undeceived, 
 
 15 it is too late ; the jest is over, and the tale hath had its 
 effect : like a man, who hath thought of a good repartee 
 when the discourse is changed, or the company parted ; or 
 like a physician, who- hath found out an infallible medicine, 
 after the patient is dead. 
 
 20 Considering that natural disposition in many men to lie, 
 and in multitudes to believe, I have been perplexed what to 
 do with that maxim so frequent in every body's mouth, that 
 truth will at last prevail. Here hath this island of ours, for 
 the greatest part of twenty years, lain under the influence of 
 
 25 such counsels and persons, whose principle and interest it 
 was to corrupt our manners, blind our understanding, drain 
 our wealth, and in time destroy our constitution both in 
 church and state, and we at last were brought to the very 
 brink of ruin ; yet, by the means of perpetual misrepresen- 
 
 30 tations, have never been able to distinguish between our 
 enemies and friends. We have seen a great part of the 
 nation's money got into the hands of those, who, by thSr 
 birth, education, and merit, could pretend no higher than 
 to wear our liveries; while others, who, by their credit, 
 
THE EXAMINER. 345 
 
 quality, and fortune, were only able to give reputation and 
 success to the Revolution, were not only laid aside as 
 dangerous and useless, but loaden with the scandal of 
 Jacobites, men of arbitrary principles, and pensioners to 
 France ; while truth, who is said to lie in a well, seemed 5 
 now to be buried there under a heap of stones. But I 
 remember it was a usual complaint among the Whigs, that 
 the bulk of the landed men was not in their interests, which 
 some of the wisest looked on as an ill omen ; and we saw 
 it was with the utmost difficulty that they could preserve a 10 
 majority, while the court and ministry were on their side, 
 till they had learned those admirable expedients for deciding 
 elections, and influencing distant boroughs, by powerful 
 motives from the city. But all this was mere force and 
 constraint, however upheld by most dexterous artifice and 15 
 management, until the people began to apprehend their 
 properties, their religion, and the monarchy itself in danger ; 
 when we saw them greedily laying hold on the first occasion 
 to interpose. But of this mighty change in the dispositions 
 of the people, I shall discourse more at large in some fol- 2 ° 
 lowing paper; wherein I shall endeavour to undeceive or 
 discover those deluded or deluding persons, who hope, or 
 pretend it is only a short madness in the vulgar, from which 
 they may soon recover ; whereas, I believe, it will appear to 
 be very different in its causes, its symptoms, and its conse- 25 
 quences ; and prove a great example to illustrate the maxim 
 I lately mentioned, that truth (however sometimes late) will 
 at last prevail. 
 
346 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 No. XVI. 
 
 THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1710. 
 
 Qui sunt boni cives ? Qui belli, qui dona de patria bene merentes, nisi 
 qui patriae benejicia meminerunt ? 
 
 Who is the good and laudable citizen ? Who in peace, or who in 
 war, has merited the favour of his country ? Who but that person 
 who, with gratitude, remembers and acknowledges the favours and 
 rewards he has already received ? 
 
 I will employ this present paper upon a subject, which 
 of late has very much affected me, which I have considered 
 with a good deal of application, and made several inquiries 
 about among those persons, who, I thought, were best able 
 5 to inform me ; and if I deliver my sentiments with some 
 freedom, I hope it will be forgiven, while I accompany it 
 with that tenderness which so nice a point requires. 
 
 I said in a former paper, (No. 13,) that one specious 
 objection to the late removals at court was, the fear of giving 
 
 10 uneasiness to a general, who hath been long successful 
 abroad ; and accordingly the common clamour of tongues 
 and pens for some months past hath run against the base- 
 ness, the inconstancy, and ingratitude of the whole kingdom 
 to the Duke of Marlborough, in return of the most eminent 
 
 15 services that ever were performed by a subject to his 
 country ; not to be equalled in history : and then, to be 
 sure, some bitter stroke of detraction against Alexander and 
 Caesar, who never did us the least injury. Besides, the 
 people who read Plutarch come upon us with parallels 
 
 20 drawn from the Greeks and Romans, who ungratefully dealt 
 with I know not how many of their most deserving generals ; 
 while the profounder politicians have seen pamphlets where 
 
THE EXAMINER. 347 
 
 Tacitus and Machiavel have been quoted, to show the 
 danger of too resplendent a merit. If a stranger should 
 hear these serious outcries of ingratitude against our general, 
 without knowing the particulars, he would be apt to inquire, 
 where was his tomb, or whether he was allowed Christian 5 
 burial? not doubting but we had put him to some igno- 
 minious death. Or hath he been tried for his life, and very 
 narrowly escaped? hath he been accused of high crimes 
 and misdemeanours ? hath the prince seized on his estate, 
 and left him to starve ? hath he been hooted at as he passed 10 
 the streets by an ungrateful rabble ? have neither honours, 
 offices, nor grants, been conferred on him or his family? 
 have not he and they been barbarously stripped of them all ? 
 have not he and his forces been ill paid abroad ? and does 
 not the prince, by a scanty limited commission, hinder him 15 
 from pursuing his own methods in the conduct of the war ? 
 hath he no power at all of disposing of commissions as he 
 pleases ? is he not severely used by the ministry or parlia- 
 ment, who yearly call him to a strict account? hath the 
 senate ever thanked him for good success, and have they 20 
 not always publicly censured him for the least miscarriage ? 
 — Will the accusers of the nation join issue upon any of 
 these particulars, or tell us in what point our damnable sin 
 of ingratitude lies ? — Why, it is plain and clear ; for while 
 he is commanding abroad, the queen dissolves her parlia- 25 
 ment, and changes her ministry at home ; in which universal 
 calamity, no less than two persons allied by marriage to the 
 general have lost their places. Whence came this wonder- 
 ful sympathy between the civil and military powers ? Will 
 the troops in Flanders refuse to fight unless they can have 30 
 their own lord-keeper, their own lord-president of the 
 council, their own parliament ? In a kingdom where the 
 people are free, how came they to be so fond of having 
 their counsels under the influence of their army, or those 
 
348 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 that lead it ? who, in all well instituted states, had no com- 
 merce with the civil power, farther than to receive their 
 orders, and obey them without reserve. 
 
 When a general is not so popular, either in his army or 
 
 S at home, as one might expect from a long course of success, 
 it may perhaps be ascribed to his wisdom, or perhaps to his 
 complexion. The possession of some one quality, or defect 
 in some other, will extremely damp the people's favour, as 
 well as the love of the soldiers. Besides, this is not an age 
 
 10 to produce favourites of the people, while we live under a 
 queen, who engrosses all our love, and all our veneration ; 
 and where the only way, for a great general or minister, 
 to acquire any degree of subordinate affection from the 
 public, must be, by all marks of the most entire sub- 
 
 15 mission and respect, to her sacred person and commands; 
 otherwise, no pretence of great services, either in the field 
 or the cabinet, will be able to screen them from universal 
 hatred. 
 
 But the late ministry was closely joined to the general 
 
 20 by friendship, interest, alliance, inclination, and opinion ; 
 which cannot be affirmed of the present : and the ingratitude 
 of the nation lies in the people's joining, as one man, to wish 
 that such a ministry should be changed. Is it not, at the 
 same time, notorious to the whole kingdom, that nothing 
 
 25 but a tender regard to the general was able to preserve that 
 ministry so long, until neither God nor man could suffer 
 their continuance ? Yet, in the highest ferment of things, 
 we heard few or no reflections upon this great commander ; 
 but all seemed unanimous in wishing he might still be 
 
 30 at the head of the confederate forces ; only at the same 
 time, in case he were resolved to resign, they chose rather 
 to turn their thoughts somewhere else, than throw up all in 
 despair. And this I cannot but add, in defence of the 
 people, with regard to the person we are speaking of, that 
 
THE EXAMINER. 349 
 
 in the high station he has been for many years past, his 
 real defects (as nothing human is without them) have, in 
 a detracting age, been very sparingly mentioned either in 
 libels or conversation, and all successes very freely and 
 universally applauded. 5 
 
 There is an active and a passive ingratitude : applying 
 both to this occasion, we may say, the first is, when a prince 
 or people returns good services with cruelty or ill usage ; 
 the other is, when good services are not at all, or very 
 meanly rewarded. We have already spoken of the former ; 10 
 let us therefore in the second place examine how the ser- 
 vices of our general have been rewarded ; and whether, 
 upon that article, either prince or people have been guilty 
 of ingratitude ? 
 
 Those are the most valuable rewards, which are given to 15 
 us from the certain knowledge of the donor, that they fit 
 our temper best : I shall therefore say nothing of the title of 
 Duke, or the Garter, which the queen bestowed upon the 
 general in the beginning of her reign ; but I shall come to 
 more substantial instances, and mention nothing which has 20 
 not been given in the face of the world. The lands of 
 Woodstock may, I believe, be reckoned worth ^40,000 ; 
 on the building of Blenheim Castle ^200,000 have been 
 already expended, although it be not yet near finished ; the 
 grant of ^5000 per annum on the post-office is richly worth 25 
 ^100,000 ; his principality in Germany may be computed 
 at ^30,000 ; pictures, jewels, and other gifts from foreign 
 princes, ,£60,000 ; the grant at the Pail-Mall, the ranger- 
 ship, &c, for want of more certain knowledge, may be called 
 £10,000; his own and his duchess's employments at five 30 
 years' value, reckoning only the known and avowed salaries, 
 are very low rated at £1 00,000. Here is a good deal 
 above half a million of money ; and, I dare say, those who 
 are loudest with the clamour of ingratitude, will readily 
 
35° SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 own, that all this is but a trifle, in comparison of what is 
 untold. 
 
 The reason of my stating this account is only to convince 
 the world, that we are not quite so ungrateful either as the 
 
 5 Greeks or the Romans ; and in order to adjust the matter 
 with all fairness, I shall confine myself to the latter, who 
 were much more generous of the two. A victorious general 
 of Rome, in the height of that empire, having entirely sub- 
 dued his enemies, was rewarded with the larger triumph, 
 
 jo and perhaps a statue in the Forum, a bull for a sacrifice, an 
 embroidered garment to appear in, a crown of laurel, a 
 monumental trophy with inscriptions ; sometimes five hun- 
 dred or a thousand copper coins were struck on occasion of 
 the victory, which, doing honour to the general, we will place 
 
 15 to his account ; and lastly, sometimes, although not very 
 frequently, a triumphal arch. These are all the rewards that 
 I can call to mind, which a victorious general received, after 
 his return from the most glorious expedition ; having con- 
 quered some great kingdom, brought the king himself, his 
 
 20 family, and nobles, to adorn the triumph, in chains ; and 
 made the kingdom, either a Roman province, or, at best, a 
 poor depending state, in humble alliance to that empire. 
 Now, of all these rewards, I find but two which were of real 
 profit to the general ; the laurel crown, made and sent him 
 
 25 at the charge of the public, and the embroidered garment ; 
 but I cannot find whether this last was paid for by the 
 senate or the general : however, we will take the more 
 favourable opinion; and in all the rest admit the whole 
 expense, as if it were ready money in the general's pocket. 
 
 30 Now, according to these computations on both sides, we 
 will draw up two fair accounts ; the one of Roman gratitude, 
 and the other of British ingratitude, and set them together 
 in balance. 
 
THE EXAMINER. 
 
 351 
 
 A BILL OF ROMAN GRATITUDE. 
 Imprim. 
 For frankincense, and earthen pots to burn it in 
 A bull for sacrifice . 
 An embroidered garment . 
 A crown of laurel 
 
 A statue 
 
 A trophy .... 
 
 A thousand copper medals, value half pence a-piece 
 
 A triumphal arch 
 
 A triumphal car, valued as a modern coach 
 Casual charges at the triumph . 
 
 £ *. d. 
 4 10 o 
 800 
 
 50 o O 
 
 002 
 
 IOO 
 
 80 
 
 2 
 500 
 
 IOO 
 
 150 
 
 £994 II 10 
 
 A BILL OF BRITISH INGRATITUDE. 
 Imprim. 
 Woodstock . . .... 
 
 Blenheim . 
 
 Post-office grant 
 
 Mildenheiin . . 
 
 Pictures, jewels, &c. . 
 
 Pall-Mali grant, &c. . 
 
 Employments . ... 
 
 £40,000 
 
 200,000 
 
 100,000 
 
 30,000 
 
 60,000 
 
 10,000 
 
 100,000 
 
 £540,000 
 
 This is an account of the visible profits on both sides ; 
 and if the Roman general had any private perquisites, they 
 may be easily discounted, and by more probable computa- 
 tions ; and differ yet more upon the balance, if we consider 
 that all the gold and silver for safeguards and contributions, 5 
 also all valuable prizes taken in the war, were openly exposed 
 in the triumph, and then lodged in the Capitol for the public 
 service. 
 
 So that, upon the whole, we are not yet quite so bad at 
 worst as the Romans were at best. And I doubt, those 10 
 who raise the hideous cry of ingratitude, may be mightily 
 
353 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 mistaken in the consequence they propose from such com- 
 plaints. I remember a saying of Seneca, Multos ingratos 
 invenimus, plures f admits ; we find many ungrateful persons 
 in the world, but we make more, by setting too high a rate 
 
 5 upon our pretensions, and undervaluing the rewards we 
 receive. When unreasonable bills are brought in, they 
 ought to be taxed or cut off in the middle. Where there 
 have been long accounts between two persons, I have 
 known one of them perpetually making large demands, and 
 
 10 pressing for payment ; who, when the accounts were cast 
 up on both sides, was found to be debtor for some hundreds. 
 I am thinking, if a proclamation were issued out for every 
 man to send in his bill of merits, and the lowest price he 
 set them at, what a pretty sum it would amount to, and 
 
 15 how many such islands as this must be sold to pay them. 
 I form my judgment from the practice of those who some- 
 times happen to pay themselves, and, I dare affirm, would 
 not be so unjust as to take a farthing more than they think 
 is due to their deserts. I will instance only in one article : 
 
 20 A lady of my acquaintance appropriated twenty-six pounds 
 a-year out of her allowance, for certain uses, which her 
 woman received, and was to pay to the lady, or her order, 
 as it was called for. But, after eight years, it appeared, 
 upon the strictest calculation, that the woman had paid but 
 
 25 four pounds a-year, and sunk two-and-twenty for her own 
 pocket. It is but supposing, instead of twenty-six pounds, 
 twenty-six thousand ; and by that you may judge what the 
 pretentions of modern merit are, where it happens to be its 
 own paymaster. 
 
THE EXAMINER. 353 
 
 No. XXI. 
 THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1710. 
 
 Nam et majorum instituta tueri, sacris caerimoniisque retinendis, 
 sapientis est. 
 
 — Ruituraque semper 
 Stat (mirum /) moles — 
 
 A wise man will protect and defend the rights of the church ; 
 which, in spite of the malice of its enemies, although tottering, 
 and on the brink of destruction, stands secure, to the admiration 
 of all men. 
 
 Whoever is a true lover of our constitution, must needs 
 
 be pleased to see what successful endeavours are daily made 
 
 to restore it, in every branch, to its ancient form from the 
 
 •languishing condition it has long lain in, and with such 
 
 deadly symptoms. 5 
 
 I have already handled some abuses during the late 
 management, and shall, in convenient time, go on with the 
 rest. Hitherto I have confined myself to those of the 
 state; but, with the good leave of some who think it a 
 matter of small moment, I shall now take liberty to say 10 
 something of the church. 
 
 For several years past, there has not, I think, in Europe, 
 been any society of men upon so unhappy a foot as the 
 clergy of England, nor more hardly treated by those very 
 persons, from whom they deserved much better quarter, 15 
 and in whose power they chiefly had put it to use them so 
 ill. I would not willingly misrepresent facts ; but I think 
 it generally allowed by enemies and friends, that the bold 
 and brave defences made before the Revolution, against 
 those many invasions of our rights, proceeded principally 20 
 from the clergy, who are likewise known to have rejected 
 vol. 1. -a a 
 
354 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 all advances made them, to close with the measures at 
 that time concerting ; while the dissenters, to gratify their 
 ambition and revenge, fell into the basest compliances with 
 the court, approved of all proceedings by their numerous 
 
 5 and fulsome addresses, and took employments and com- 
 missions, by virtue of the dispensing power, against the 
 direct laws of the land. All this is so true, that, if ever the 
 Pretender comes in, they will, next to those of his own 
 religion, have the fairest claim and pretensions to his favour, 
 
 10 from their merit and eminent services to his supposed 
 father ; who, without such encouragement, would probably 
 never have been misled to go the lengths he did. It should 
 likewise be remembered, to the everlasting honour of the 
 London divines, that, in those dangerous times, they writ 
 
 i 5 and published the best collection of arguments against 
 popery that ever appeared in the world. At the Revolution, 
 the body of the clergy joined heartily in the common cause, 
 except a few, whose sufferings, perhaps, have atoned for 
 their mistakes, like men who are content to go about for 
 
 20 avoiding a gulf or a precipice, but come into the old straight 
 road again as soon as they can. But another temper had 
 now begun to prevail ; for, as in the reign of King Charles 
 the First, several well-meaning people were ready to join in 
 reforming some abuses, while others, who had deeper de- 
 
 25 signs, were still calling out for a thorough reformation, 
 which ended at last in the ruin of the. kingdom ; so, after 
 the late king's coming to the throne, there was a restless cry 
 from men of the same principles for a thorough revolution, 
 which, as some were carrying it on, must have ended in the 
 
 30 destruction of the monarchy and church. 
 
 What a violent humour has run ever since against the 
 clergy, and from what corner spread and fomented, is, I 
 believe, manifest to all men. It looked like a set quarrel 
 against Christianity ; and if we call to mind several of the 
 
THE EXAMINER. 355 
 
 leaders, it must, in a great measure, have been actually so. 
 Nothing was more common, in writing and conversation, 
 than to hear that reverend body charged in gross with what 
 was utterly inconsistent, despised for their poverty, hated 
 for their riches ; reproached with avarice, and taxed with 5 
 luxury; accused for promoting arbitrary power, and for 
 resisting the prerogative ; censured for their pride, and 
 scorned for their meanness of spirit. The representatives 
 of the lower clergy were railed at for disputing the power 
 of the bishops, by the known abhorrers of episcopacy, and 10 
 abused for doing nothing in the convocations, by those very 
 men who helped to bind up their hands. The vice, the 
 folly, the ignorance of every single man, were laid upon 
 the character ; their jurisdiction, censures, and discipline, 
 trampled under foot ; yet mighty complaints against their 15 
 excessive power ; the men of wit employed to turn the 
 priesthood itself into ridicule ; in short, groaning every 
 where under the weight of poverty, oppression, contempt, 
 and obloquy. A fair return for the time and money spent 
 in their education to fit them for the service of the altar, 20 
 and a fair encouragement for worthy men to come into 
 the church ! However, it may be some comfort to the 
 persons of that holy function, that their divine Founder, 
 as well as his harbinger, met with the like reception : — - 
 'John came neither eating or drinking, and they say, 25 
 he hath a devil; the Son of Man came eating and 
 drinking, and they say, behold a glutton and a wine- 
 bibber,' &c. 
 
 In this deplorable state of the clergy, nothing but the 
 hand of Providence, working by its glorious instrument the 3° 
 queen, could have been able to turn the people's, hearts so 
 surprisingly in their favour. This princess, destined for the 
 safety of Europe, and a blessing to her subjects, began her 
 reign with a noble benefaction to the church ; and it was 
 a a 2 
 
356 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 hoped the nation would have followed such an example, 
 which nothing could have prevented, but the false politics 
 of a set of men, who form their maxims upon those of every 
 tottering commonwealth, which is always struggling for life, 
 5 subsisting by expedients, and often at the mercy of any 
 powerful neighbour. These men take it into their imagina- 
 tion, that trade can never flourish, unless the country be- 
 comes a common receptacle for all nations, religions, and 
 languages ; a system only proper for small popular states, 
 
 10 but altogether unworthy and below the dignity of an im- 
 perial crown ; which, with us, is best upheld by a monarchy 
 in possession of its just prerogative, a senate of nobles and 
 of commons, and a clergy established in its due rights, with 
 a suitable maintenance by law. But these men come, 
 
 15 with the spirit of shopkeepers, to frame rules for the ad- 
 ministration of kingdoms ; or, as if they thought the whole 
 art of government consisted in the importation of nutmegs, 
 and the curing of herrings. Such an island as ours can 
 afford enough to support the majesty of a crown, the honour 
 
 20 of a nobility, and the dignity of a magistracy ; we can en- 
 courage arts and sciences, maintain our bishops and clergy, 
 and suffer our gentry to live in a decent hospitable manner ; 
 yet still there will remain hands sufficient for trade and 
 manufactures, which do always indeed deserve the best 
 
 25 encouragement, but not to a degree of sending every living 
 soul into the warehouse or the workshop. 
 
 This pedantry of republican politics has done infinite 
 mischief among us. To this we owe those noble schemes 
 of treating Christianity as a system of speculative opinions 
 
 30 which no man should be bound to believe ; of making the 
 being and the worship of God a creature of the state; in 
 consequence of these, that the teachers of religion ought to 
 hold their maintenance at pleasure, or live by the alms and 
 charitable collection of the people, and be equally en- 
 
THE EXAMINER. 
 
 357 
 
 couraged of all opinions ; that they should be prescribed 
 what to teach, by those who are to learn from them ; and, 
 upon default, have a staff and a pair of shoes left at their 
 door; with many other projects of equal piety, wisdom, and 
 good nature. 5 
 
 But, God be thanked, they and their schemes are va- 
 nished, and their places shall know them no more. When 
 I think of that inundation of atheism, infidelity, profaneness, 
 and licentiousness, which was likely to overwhelm us, from 
 what mouths and hearts it first proceeded, and how the 10 
 people joined with the queen's endeavours to divert this 
 flood, I cannot but reflect on that remarkable passage in the 
 Revelation, where " the serpent with seven heads cast out 
 of his mouth water after the woman, like a flood, that he 
 might cause her to be carried away of the flood : but the 15 
 earth helped the woman, and the earth opened her mouth, 
 and swallowed up the flood which the dragon had cast out 
 of his mouth." For the queen having changed her ministry 
 suitable to her own wisdom and the wishes of her subjects, 
 and having called a free parliament, and at the same time 20 
 summoned the convocation by her royal writ, as in all times 
 had been accustomed ; and, soon after their meeting, sent 
 a most gracious letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, to 
 be communicated to the bishops and clergy of his province, 
 taking notice of " the loose and profane principles which 25 
 had been openly scattered and propagated among her 
 subjects ; that the consultations of the clergy were parti- 
 cularly requisite to repress and prevent such daring attempts, 
 for which her subjects from all parts of the kingdom have 
 shown their just abhorrence ; she hopes the endeavours of 3° 
 the clergy in this respect will not be unsuccessful ; and, for 
 her part, is ready to give them all fit encouragement to 
 proceed in the dispatch of such business as properly belongs 
 to them, and to grant them powers requisite to carry on so 
 
358 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 good a work \ " in conclusion, " earnestly recommending to 
 them to avoid disputes ; and determining to do all that in 
 her lies to compose and extinguish them." 
 
 It is to be hoped, that this last part of her majesty's 
 5 letter will be the first she will please to execute ; for it 
 seems, this very letter created the first dispute, the fact 
 whereof is thus related: — The Upper House, having 
 formed an address to the queen before they received her 
 majesty's letter, sent both address and letter together to 
 
 io the Lower House, with a message, excusing their not 
 mentioning the letter in the address; because this was 
 formed before the other was received. The Lower 
 House returned them, with a desire that an address 
 might be formed with a due regard and acknowledgments 
 
 15 for the letter. After some difficulties, the same address 
 was sent down again, with a clause inserted, making some 
 short mention of the said letter. This the Lower House 
 did not think sufficient, and sent it back again with the 
 same request ; whereupon the archbishop, after a short 
 
 20 consultation with some of his brethren, immediately ad- 
 journed the convocation for a month ; and no address at 
 all was sent to the queen. 
 
 I understand not ecclesiastical affairs well enough to 
 comment upon this matter ; but it seems to me, that all 
 
 3 5 methods of doing service to the church and kingdom, by 
 means of a convocation, may be at any time eluded, if 
 there be no remedy against such an incident. And, if 
 this proceeding be agreeable to the institution, spiritual 
 assemblies must needs be strangely contrived, very differ- 
 
 3° ent from any lay senate yet known in the world. Surely, 
 from the nature of such a synod, it must be a very un- 
 happy circumstance, when the majority of the bishops 
 draws one way, and that of the lower clergy another. 
 The latter, I think, are not at this time suspected for any 
 
THE EXAMINER. 359 
 
 principle bordering upon those professed by enemies to 
 episcopacy ; and if they happen to differ from the greater 
 part of the present set of bishops, I doubt it will call 
 some things to mind, that may turn the scale of general 
 favour on the inferior clergy's side ; who, with a profound S 
 duty to her majesty, are perfectly pleased with the present 
 turn of affairs. Besides, curious people will be apt to inquire 
 into the dates of some promotions ; to call to mind what 
 designs were then upon the anvil, and thence make malicious 
 deductions. Perhaps they will observe the manner of voting 10 
 on the bishops' bench, and compare it with what shall pass 
 in the upper house of convocation. There is, however, one 
 comfort, that, under the present dispositions of the kingdom, 
 a dislike to the proceedings of any of their lordships, even 
 to the number of a majority, will be purely personal, and 15 
 not turned to the disadvantage of the order. And for my 
 part, as I am a true lover of the church, I would rather find 
 the inclinations of the people favourable to episcopacy in 
 general, than see a majority of prelates cried up by those 
 who are known enemies to the character. Nor, indeed, hath 20 
 anything given me more offence for several years past, than 
 to observe how some of that bench have been caressed by 
 certain persons, and others of them openly celebrated by 
 the infamous pens of atheists, republicans, and fanatics. 
 
 Time and mortality can only remedy these inconveniences 25 
 in the church, which are not to be cured, like those in the 
 state, by a change of ministry. If we may guess the temper 
 of a convocation from the choice of a prolocutor, as it is 
 usual to do that of a house of commons by the speaker, we 
 may expect great things from that reverend body, who have 30 
 done themselves much reputation, by pitching upon a 
 gentleman of so much piety, wit, and learning, for that 
 office, and one who is so thoroughly versed in those parts 
 of knowledge which are proper for it. I am sorry that the 
 
360 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 three Latin speeches, delivered upon presenting the pro- 
 locutor, were not made public ; they might, perhaps, have 
 given us some light into the disposition of each house ; and, 
 besides, one of them is said to be so peculiar in the style and 
 5 matter, as might have made up in entertainment what it 
 wanted in instruction. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Page 40. William Sancroft (1616-1693), Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, had been the leader of the English Bishops in their resistance 
 to James II's scheme of Indulgence. But Sancroft's adherence to 
 ' divine right ' principles forced him, after the Revolution, to resign 
 the Archbishopric, and join the Nonjuring party. Swift's respect 
 for Sancroft — although he had no sympathy with Sancroft's extreme 
 views — shows the underlying vein of ecclesiastical Toryism that in- 
 fluenced him, even before he had separated himself from the Whig 
 party. Swift rarely adopted any views that were those of Dryden : 
 but Dryden in the Fables (version of Chaucer's Good Parson) 
 refers to Sancroft's action in similar terms of praise. 
 
 1. 3. that high sacred seven has doubtless reference to the seven 
 lights of the Tabernacle (Exodus xxv.), the seven lamps of the 
 prophet Zechariah's vision, and to the seven stars of Revelation 
 (ii.). Cf. Milton, Farad. Lost iii. 654 
 
 ' Uriel, for thou of those seven spirits that stand 
 
 In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright ' ; 
 and Milton's poem On Time (v. 14) : 
 
 'When everything that is sincerely good 
 
 And perfectly divine, 
 
 With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine 
 
 About the supreme Throne.' 
 
 41, 1. 7. Swift may have had in his mind here the imagery of the 
 Cave in Plato's Republic ; but the lines are more immediately based 
 upon his study of Descartes' treatise on optics, with the theories of 
 the transmission and refraction of light. The Cartesian artists in 
 1. 13 are those who attempted to illustrate the new theories by experi- 
 ments with the camera obscura, the effects of which are described 
 in the following lines. 
 
 42, 1. 15. The whole of this stanza is extremely obscure : but it 
 
362 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 seems to show the effects of the same recent study of Descartes, as 
 may be inferred from stanza II. The first lines appear to mean : 
 ' Some men, in order to be of great influence, and to satisfy their own 
 vanity, make their minds wander over the whole expanse of thought, 
 and are involved in contradictions and inconsistencies — all in order 
 to find arguments in favour of some material ease of place (such 
 as clinging by casuistical arguments to a post like that surrendered 
 by Sancroft, the tenure of which was against their conscience).' But 
 this must only be conjectural : and the comparisons with the mistaken 
 notions as to the sun's motion, and the herd, who are deceived by the 
 weathercock, would seem to point rather to a philosophical error, 
 than to the selfishness dictated by a false casuistry in matters of 
 conduct. The reference to the ' vortex ' is doubtless a reminiscence 
 of the system of Descartes (cf. p. 165, 1. 10 note) : and it is 
 curious that the next lines cite the false belief in the sun's motion, 
 which Descartes as well as Galileo had combated. 
 
 Part of the obscurity of this stanza seems to be due to the fact that 
 Swift avoids committing himself entirely to the defence of Sancroft's 
 position. In later days he by no means sympathized with the Non- 
 jurors ; and although now he honours Sancroft's integrity, he seems 
 to deprecate the careless and self-satisfied criticism of the crowd, and 
 to deny any inference as to Sancroft's disaffection to the Govern- 
 ment, rather than to defend entirely the position which Sancroft had 
 assumed. 
 
 43, 1. 13. In gathering follies from the wise, i. e. ' in finding instances 
 which may prove that the wise may give way to folly.' Swift does 
 not himself ascribe the folly to Sancroft : but he admits that the 
 multitude may put such an interpretation upon Nonjuring, as though 
 it amounted to disaffection. 
 
 1. 26. It would be absurd to draw any special political inference 
 from this. Swift could not mean that the recent misfortunes of James 
 II were due to his excess of gentleness, nor could he mean to hint 
 any repugnance to the Revolution. AH he intended, probably, was 
 to urge the necessity of strengthening the Crown as a bulwark against 
 faction, and perhaps to convey a hint that William was not using for 
 the check of faction all that authority with which the nation had 
 entrusted him. But cf. note on p. 67, 1. 21. 
 
 1. 29. Cf. Rich. II, Act iii, Sc. 4 : 
 
 'Our sea-walled garden, the whole land, 
 Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up,' &c. 
 
 44, 1. 5. original mildness. This is probably addressed to Sancroft. 
 'Original' has much the same sense as the ' prisca fides' of Virgil. 
 
 1. 20. In wholly equalling our sin and theirs. ' I should be 
 
NOTES, pp. 42-49. 363 
 
 wrongly understood, if I were thought to equal altogether our sin 
 in judging Sancroft, and that of the Jews in calling for the crucifixion 
 of Christ.' 
 
 45, 1. 8. The idol in the vision of Daniel. 
 
 11. 21-23. These three lines show, like some others in these early 
 poems, how much Swift was influenced by Milton in his earlier years. 
 
 46, 1. 9. In Caesar's court, or in Jerusalem, i. e. in scenes of worldly 
 ambition, or of the capital, rather than in the obscurity of the country 
 village. 
 
 1. 18. Swift appeals to Political Necessity, so often alleged as an 
 excuse, that appears to take the place of conscience in the breasts of 
 statesmen, and to be more imperious in its behests ; and demands of 
 her, as the authority most fit to explain it to him, why the weal of the 
 Church should have to yield to that of the body politic. 
 
 The argument of this stanza seems to be as follows : ' Why should 
 the Church always suffer, when the State suffers ? (There is no corre- 
 sponding partnership in good fortune.) For, at this moment, the 
 world deems us blessed in our king, and believes us to emulate his 
 virtues. (Let us do so, as we ought— but the example of a good king 
 is not so often followed as that of a bad one.) But in spite of this 
 happiness in the State, Sancroft feels his Church so ruined by faction 
 that he has laid down his mitre.' 
 
 47, 1. 1. This passage suggests the well-known simile in Addison's 
 Campaign, where he likens Marlborough to the Angel ruling the 
 whirlwind, and speaks of the storm 
 
 ' Such as of late o'er pale Britannia passed ' 
 — referring to the great storm of 1703. Swift's that fearful storm of 
 late is, however, only the metaphorical storm of the Revolution, 
 which had threatened to overwhelm the Church, before the triumph 
 of the sectaries. The prophetic tempest in the virgin reign seems to 
 refer to the Puritan movement in the reign of Elizabeth. 
 
 1. 20. And must to human reasoning opposite conclude, &c, must 
 come to a conclusion opposite to that of human reason, (in trying) to 
 point out, &c. There may be a hint here that Sancroft in his fortitude 
 overstept the bounds of moderation. 
 
 48, 1. 7. like that poetic wood of old. The branch of golden leaves 
 that Aeneas was to use as his guide to Avernus. Aen. vi. 137. 
 
 49, 1. l. In striving to wash off th' imaginary paint=in striving to 
 remove those signs of reverence which were falsely imagined to be 
 mere superficial ornament. Cf. Swift's satire, in the Tale of a 
 Tub, upon Jack's eager haste to strip off all ornament from his coat. 
 The passage on p. 169, 1. 21, contrasts, in its irony, with this serious 
 deprecation of interference with the decency of outward forms. 
 
364 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 11. 6 seq. These lines sum up, with the terseness and pithiness of 
 Swift's later and more powerful style, the position which he main- 
 tained from first to last in regard to all ecclesiastical struggles. 
 1. 16. Cf. Dryden's Ode on Cromwell, stanza 2, 1. 3 
 
 ' Heaven what praise we offer to his name 
 Hath rendered too authentic by its choice.' 
 50, 1. 1. Cf. Dryden, St. 7, 1. 3 (basing one of Cromwell's titles to 
 fame on his not being an hereditary monarch) 
 
 ' Nor was his virtue poisoned, soon as born, 
 With the too early thoughts of being King.' 
 But contrast Swift's more mature opinion in the Sentiments of a 
 Church of England Man : ' Hereditary right is much to be preferred 
 before election.' 
 
 1. 3. Part of your merit Chance would call her own. Cf. Dryden, 
 st. 6, 1. 2— 
 
 ' For he was great ere Fortune made him so.' 
 1. 14. Cf. Dryden, st. 30, 1. 1 
 
 'That old unquestioned pirate of the land, 
 Proud Rome.' 
 1. 18. Cf. Dryden, st. 23, 1. 3 
 
 'His fortune turned the scale where'er 'twas cast.' 
 1. 26. When Schomberg started at the vast design. Schomberg did, 
 as a fact, endeavour to dissuade the King from attacking at the Boyne, 
 the Irish having secured a much superior position. 
 51, 1. 7. Cf. Dryden, st. 20, 1. 3 
 
 ' Successful counsels did him soon approve 
 As fit for close intrigues as open field.' 
 1. 9. Cf. Dryden, st. 28, 1. ± 
 
 'From this high spring our foreign conquests flow.' 
 1. 13. It was this poem which is said to have given rise to Dry- 
 den's criticism (never forgotten or forgiven by Swift), ' Cousin Swift, 
 you will never be a poet.' 
 
 52, 1. 12. the Dove-Muse : i. e. philosophy, starting forth after the 
 cessation of the deluge of civil troubles, like the dove from the Ark. 
 
 1. 27. This refers to the Ode to King William, on p. 49. 
 
 53, 1. 13. the god of wit = Apollo. Cf. Swift's verses on Apollo 
 
 (I73i) 
 
 'Apollo, god of light and wit.' 
 
 1. 14. oracular. Observe the curious accent on the penultimate. 
 
 1. 24 and p. 54, 1. 8. Cf. p. 178, 1. 24. Also p. 59, 1. 6. 
 54, 1. 21. ye great unknown. The mysterious members of Dunton's 
 society, to whom Swift, in a rhapsody so strangely unlike his other 
 writings, was now making his court. 
 
NOTES, pp. 49-60. 365 
 
 1. 22. the juggling sea-god= Proteus. Cf. p. 188, I. 25 (note). 
 
 I. 23. sleeping, referring, of course, to Proteus, not to the 
 querist. 
 
 55, 1. 1. The passage which follows shows how Swift's later dislike 
 of philosophy took its rise. 
 
 1. 12. farthingale — a hooped petticoat. 
 
 I. 13. commode=a wirework frame on which the head-dress was 
 raised. 
 
 1. 18. The restoration by Dunton was not destined to command 
 Swift's respect for long. Cf. p. 99, J. "27 (note). 
 
 57, 1. 21. Censure, and Pedantry, and Pride. Cf. Tale of a Tub, 
 p. 120, 1. 28, and Battle of the Books, p. 214, 1. 20. 
 
 58, I. 7. Malignant goddess=Poetry, or, perhaps, Imagination. 
 Cf. the bitterness of Swift's later Rhapsody on Poetry (1733). The 
 same spirit inspires the lines in the Ode to Congreve (1693), in which 
 Swift seems to bid farewell to serious poetry : 
 
 ' ' Tis time to bid my friend a long farewell ! 
 The Muse retreats far in yon crystal cell. 
 Faint inspiration sickens as she flies, 
 Like distant echo spent, the spirit dies.' 
 59, 1.31. hope his last and greatest foe. The delusion of hope Swift 
 counts as his most recent and most fatal foe. Clearly the petty dis- 
 appointments of his connexion with Temple were telling with cruel 
 force upon a mind which Swift was told (see p. 4) ' was like a con- 
 jured spirit.' Contrast the utterance of his finished irony, written 
 only some four years later, ' happiness is a perpetual possession of 
 being well deceived ' (p. 168, 1. 17). 
 
 60, 1. 8. This passage can hardly have failed to give a suggestion to 
 Pope for the magnificent outburst in the Epistle to Arbuthnot, 'Not 
 fortune's worshipper,' &c. 
 
 1. 15. Since thy few ill-presented graces seem. 
 
 To breed contempt where thou hadst hoped esteem. 
 Cf. Johnson's Letter to Lord Chesterfield, ' I had exhausted all 
 the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. 
 I had done all that I could : and no man is pleased to have his all 
 neglected, be it ever so little.' ' 
 
 DISSENSIONS IN ATHENS AND ROME. 
 
 In order to understand the position assumed by Swift in the fol- 
 lowing pages, it is necessary to bear in mind the current theories as 
 
366 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 to the constitution of civil government. Sir Robert Filmer's post- 
 humous work, entitled Patriarcha, had been first published in 1680, 
 and maintained the divine right of kings by the inheritance which, he 
 asserted, they derived from the authority vested in Adam. This fan- 
 tastic theory had obtained considerable support, towards the close of 
 the Stuart rule, by the views current amongst the Royalist party, and 
 supported by the University of Oxford. The Revolution had over- 
 turned entirely the theory, and had proceeded upon the opposite 
 notion, that society rested upon a supposed Original Contract, by 
 which the constituent members had voluntarily surrendered some- 
 thing of their liberty, by a partition of authority amongst the various 
 members of which the society was composed. This view of civil 
 society had its counterpart in the theory of international relations, 
 which held that peace was maintained by a balance of power amongst 
 the various States of Europe. . The Original Contract was formally 
 maintained in the vote of the Convention, by which the Revolution 
 was brought about : and its chief philosophical defender was Locke. 
 It derived support from the theories advanced, in the previous gener- 
 ation, by Harrington in his Oceana, a book constantly present to 
 Swift's mind in this treatise ; and it set aside the theory of Hobbes, 
 far more acute and far more philosophical than that of Filmer, which 
 maintained that a mixed constitution was in reality impossible ; that 
 any symptoms of it were not, in their nature, ' absolute? but only ' sub- 
 ordinate ' ; that the sovereign power must, in its essence, rest in one 
 part of the constitution, and that any apparent mixture was only 'a 
 mixture that imposeth ' on our imaginations, and had no existence in 
 Nature. Swift, writing as an adherent of the revolutionary Whig 
 party, had adopted, for practical purposes, this theory of a ' balance 
 of power' in civil society. His position obliged him to oppose 
 Hobbes's views : and although his clearness of vision led him to dis- 
 trust, as we shall notice, the theories of Harrington, yet for practical 
 purposes he argues that this ' balance ' must be maintained. But the 
 fear which he shews of popular assemblies, and his hatred of popular 
 encroachments, come strangely from an adherent of the Whig party, 
 and prove, as the subsequent development of his political views 
 proves still more conclusively, that in his mind the 'balance ' was to 
 be maintained quite as much as a defence against the danger of 
 popular movements, as against those of monarchical prerogative. 
 
 Page 62, 1. 8. or else made merchandize, and merely bought and sold. 
 The construction is confused. Swift means that the habit of yielding 
 to popular encroachments is influenced by a mere bargaining prin- 
 ciple, and is guided solely by the considerations which would affect 
 
NOTES, pp. 62-64. 367 
 
 one who has something to sell, with which he is prepared to part for 
 value received. 
 
 1. 15. without further pursuits, i. e. without seeking after further 
 favours. 
 
 68, 1. 3J then might there be some hopes that it were a matter to be ad- 
 justed. Swift here shews that, in his view, no stipulation or bargain was 
 a safeguard against popular encroachments, if these encroachments 
 were once allowed free course. To him, as to Hobbes, the ' balance ' 
 or 'mixture' is a piece of 'subordinate' contrivance, something 
 which 'imposes' but is not real. But none the less he feels the 
 urgent duty of maintaining the balance as long as possible. The 
 ' imposition ' should be supported, however hollow it may be. 
 
 1. 7. those to whom the rest of the balance is entrusted (see also 
 1. 14). This may mean either the Crown, or the Executive, or those 
 responsible guides of public opinion, to whose influence the mainten- 
 ance of the present balance must be entrusted. Swift is probably, of 
 set purpose, indefinite in his reference. The rest of the balance seems 
 to mean either the ' adjustment,' or, perhaps, in a material sense, the 
 'tongue' of the balance. Swift forgot that a balance ceases to be 
 true, as soon as its adjustment is entrusted to any one. It must 
 either be maintained by its own equilibrium, or it becomes a pretence, 
 sustained only by the application of arbitrary force. And indeed, in 
 refusing to admit the justification of a standing army, Swift rendered 
 the application of this force impossible. 
 
 1. 22. collective or represented, i. e. either gathered together in full 
 numbers, or represented by elected delegates. 
 
 1. 26. Swift's inherent cynicism speaks here, and doubtless with 
 some amount of truth. But a little reflection shews that the mere 
 power of oratory has rarely, if ever, given a large share either of 
 party direction or of administrative influence to a politician in Eng- 
 land. As a fact, not one of those who were responsible for the 
 factious and virulent proceedings attacked by Swift in this treatise, 
 ever attained to any long or considerable influence in the politics of 
 the day. And of the Ministers who, successively, during his life, 
 obtained the largest share of power — Godolphin, Harley, Walpole — 
 not one owed any of his influence to oratorical power, or to the arts 
 of the tribune. 
 
 64, 1. 1. Cf. p. 67, 1. 17. Tyranny is here used, not in the sense of the 
 Greek word, which is strictly limited to the despotism of a single 
 individual, but loosely, to express absolute power. It is, indeed, just 
 the same as the ' sovereign power ' which Hobbes maintained must, 
 of necessity, rest ultimately in the hands of ' the one, the few, or the 
 many.' 
 
368 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 7. its own dupe. Observe the change in number; in 1. g, they 
 advance to their own ruin. Cf. somewhat similar irregularities on 
 p. 140, 1. 23, and p. 168, 1. 24. 
 
 1. 14. Into is unusual, with the verb engaged. 
 
 I.16. The examples are adduced in the early part of the treatise, 
 not here printed. 
 
 1. 18. of producing it. It seems to refer to the example adduced 
 or produced, rather than to the whole discourse. 
 
 1. 28. how those diseases in a state are bred, that hasten its end. 
 Observe the faulty arrangement. In 1. 11 of this page, we should 
 expect the order of the words superior nature to be reversed ; and 
 such irregularity is frequent in Swift. 
 
 1. 33. manage exactly = the French menager, thus illustrating 
 Swift's love of French idioms. 
 
 65, 1. 4. some physicians. Swift refers to Harrington, the author 
 of Oceana. Harrington believed that ' an equal commonwealth ' 
 might be a perpetual form of constitution. By such a commonwealth 
 he meant one ' equal both in the foundation and the superstructure.' 
 The equality in the foundation was equal distribution of property in 
 land : and the equality in the superstructure was equal rotation of 
 rule, which he thus defines : — ' Equal rotation is equal vicissitude in 
 government, or succession to magistracy, conferred for such con- 
 venient terms ... as take in the whole body by turns.' Of such an 
 immortal constitution Harrington thought that Venice gave an ex- 
 ample. Cf. p. 68, 1. 3. 
 
 1. 9. this = the immortality of the body politic: the other = the 
 immortality of the physical body. 
 
 1. 11. It has an appearance of fatality, and that. One of the 
 irregular constructions so frequent in Swift. The first clause is taken 
 as = ' it appears that fate comes into the matter,' and the next clause 
 is thus naturally introduced with that. 
 
 1. 12. when a concurrence. . . unite. This is an even more marked 
 irregularity. Concurrence is used by Swift as =a multitude, and thus 
 the plural verb is partially justified. In the very next line we have, 
 the whole body of the people are. 
 
 1. 17. by the very same errors that. We expect the sentence to 
 proceed ' that have broken so many before.' Swift alters the con- 
 struction without caring to alter that into ' by which.' 
 
 I.23. secure,, in its proper sense = free from anxiety. 
 
 1. 27. 'Which fate may guiding fortune turn far from us, and 
 may reason, rather than stern reality, convince us.' The first line of 
 the quotation is introduced by Swift again, p. 157, 1. 17. 
 
NOTES, pp. 64-68. 369 
 
 66, 1. 1. some prince, i. e. Louis XIV. Swift's views as to the 
 dangers to be feared from French aggression were destined, before 
 long, to undergo a very decided change. 
 
 1. 7. in the number of fopperies, as worthy to be ranked with other 
 absurdities. 
 
 1. 32. the custom introduced (or permitted) among the nobles, of 
 selling their lands. By the Statute of Fines, which enabled a tenant 
 for life to bar the rights of his successors in tail. See Hallam's Con- 
 stitutional History, chap. i. 
 
 67, 1. 12. moulding up= mixing together. It would perhaps be 
 hard to prove that any republican principles were really held by the 
 Puritans in the days of Elizabeth. 
 
 1. 14. as well as the nobles, i. e. as well as upon the nobles. 
 
 1. 21. two weak princes. Observe that this could scarcely have 
 been the ordinary view of the rule of Charles II and James II. True 
 as Swift's estimate is, it probably seemed a paradox to the Revolu- 
 tionary Whigs, who looked upon these reigns as serious menaces to 
 the liberty of the subject. But cf. note on p. 43, 1. 26. 
 
 1. 23. by the hands that held it. Cf. p. 63, 11. 8 and 14. Swift re- 
 fers to those whose advice prevailed chiefly with the last two Stuarts, 
 who ought to have had sufficient foresight to prevent the ultimate 
 encroachments of popular views, but whose want of wisdom con- 
 tributed to these encroachments. 
 
 1. 26. in a very few years, i.e. between 1689 and 1701. 
 
 1. 27. popularity = the preponderance of popular influence. 
 
 1. 30. pandect, a synopsis or digest, such as that issued by 
 the Emperor Justinian embodying the decisions of the Roman 
 jurists. 
 
 68, 1. 3. the author of the Oceana : see p. 65, 1. 4 (note). The equal 
 rotation was thought by Harrington to be beneficial, as an element of 
 stability : and Swift's using it in a bad sense shews the reference to 
 be sarcastic. Harrington wrote in favour of principles of government 
 that could hardly commend themselves to Swift. 
 
 1. 8. the raging of the sea and the madness of the people are put 
 together in holy writ. In the Epistle of S. Jude, 13, the evil teachers 
 are compared to ' Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own 
 shame.' Cf. also Isaiah lvii. 20 ' the wicked are like the troubled 
 sea.' 
 
 L 12. a limited state — a state in which each element possesses 
 only a limited amount of power. 
 
 1. 19. to ask the potter, What dost thou make ? Referring to 
 Isaiah xlv. 9, 'Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What 
 makest thou ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. B b 
 
3?0 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 22. that = the usurpation. 
 
 1. 27. Conventions. The word had become current since the 
 Convention Parliament, which had fixed the terms upon which the 
 Revolution was carried out. 
 
 I. 29. such assemblies, who. This is the ordinary sequence in 
 Swift, although he varies it in one of the clauses here, by that which 
 is now more usual, such — as. 
 
 69, 1. 5. the source . . . arises. This is one of the incorrect ex- 
 pressions to which Swift is prone. The mistakes arise from the 
 source; and it would of course be more strictly correct to say, 'the 
 mistakes arise from the influence,' or ' the source of the mistakes is 
 the influence.' Swift mixes together the two methods of saying the 
 same thing. 
 
 1. 10. a few words put together, which is called. The phrase is 
 clear and forcible ; and this being so, Swift disregards its gram- 
 matical inaccuracy. 
 
 1. 34. Periculosa! plenum opus alece, a work replete with 
 dangerous hazard. Hor. Odes ii. 1. 6. 
 
 70, 1. 7. imitatores, servum pecus. So Horace (Ep. i. 19. 19) nick- 
 names the slavish herd that ape the manners of genius. 
 
 1. 14. where, i. e. in which herd, a man need only be violent in 
 order to earn consideration. 
 
 1. 18. / would be glad any partisan. Observe the idiomatic 
 omission, after Swift's manner, of the usual ' if.' 
 
 H.19-22. Clodius, Curio, Bibulus. These are names which were 
 prominent in the struggles which preceded the Triumvirate, and 
 ultimately culminated in the establishment of Caesar's power. But 
 Swift does not introduce them with any reference to their real 
 opinions. As a fact Bibulus was the adherent of the aristocratic 
 party, while Clodius and Curio were notorious for their violence and 
 profligacy as tribunes of the plebs. 
 
 71, 1. 5. a people represented . . . the commons collective. Cf. p. 68, 
 1. 22. 
 
 1. 8. what Diodorus tells us of one Charondas, a lawgiver to the 
 Sybarites. Charondas appears to have legislated for some of the 
 cities of Sicily and Southern Italy. The law here spoken of is 
 ascribed by Demosthenes to the Locrians. It is curious that the 
 names of Charondas and Zaleucus were attached to two fictitious 
 compilations of laws, praised by Sir W. Temple in his Treatise on 
 Ancient and Modem Learning, and a large part of Bentley's Disserta- 
 tion is taken up with exposing the baselessness of the stories current 
 about them. Swift wrote the present treatise between the com- 
 position and publication of the Battle of the Books, and after the 
 
NOTES, pp. 68-72. 371 
 
 appearance of the Dissertation ; but Bentley's opposition would not 
 tend to make him doubt the genuineness of the Charondas legend. 
 
 1. 10. averse from. Cf. p. 73, 1. 12, aversion against : and p. 185, 
 1. 22 (note). 
 
 1. 25. the distinction between the personal and politic capacity. This 
 refers to the attempt of the Tories, anxious to> find an expedient 
 against revolution, to draw a distinction between the personal 
 position of James II, as a Roman Catholic, and his political or legal 
 position, as Head of the Church of England. 
 
 1. 32. Here = in the common offices of life. 
 72, 1. 9. listed. Cf. p. 156, 1. 24 (note). 
 
 1. 11. whose opinions. If we look to the grammatical construction, 
 this would naturally refer to the opinions of the party: but what 
 Swift complains of is the violent zeal and faith with which the 
 opinions of the leader are followed and maintained. 
 
 1. 12. as violent as a young scholar does, an elliptical expression, 
 characteristic of Swift. It should run ' as violent as those with which 
 a young scholar,' &c. 
 
 1. 13. has. It is well to notice that Swift observes no uniform 
 practice with regard to the use of ' hath ' and ' has.' The earliest 
 editions of this treatise give us ' has ' throughout. On the other 
 hand, the earliest editions of the Tale of a Tub have, as uniformly, 
 '■hath; In Gulliver, again, the first edition employs ' hath,' but in the 
 copy (in the Forster Library) altered in Swift's own hand for a new 
 edition, ' hath ' is altered into ' has.' We may conclude, therefore, 
 that Swift came to discard the use of ' hath ' as archaic ; but in the 
 separate books he probably left the printers to take their own way. 
 
 1. 20. congenial with him. The construction seems to be mixed, 
 the two phrases — ' congenial with his natural qualities ' and ' congenial 
 (in the sense of ' agreeable ') to him ' — being both in Swift's mind. 
 
 1. 22. during the present lucid interval. Parliament had been pro- 
 rogued in April 1700 : and, after a dissolution, met again in February 
 1701. Swift probably wrote in the summer of 1700, when it was 
 expected that Parliament would meet again in November. 
 
 1. 33. have been openly caressed by the people. The credit of the 
 House of Commons had perhaps fallen, and that of the House of 
 Lords risen. But Swift seems to some extent to have been deceived by 
 associating with the Whigs, whose adherent he now was, and whose 
 views would naturally impress him. It is difficult to trace any symp- 
 toms of popular learning towards Somers and his friends : and, as 
 a fact, the next election went for the Tories. The 'fear of their 
 persons from popular rage,' which he attributes to the Tories, seems 
 to be -equally an exaggeration. 
 
 B b 2 
 
372 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 78, 1. a. this unprecedented proceeding in their masters =this unusual 
 action of their masters (i. e. the people whom they are sent to repre- 
 sent) in disavowing the doings of their representatives. 
 
 1. 7. the mass of the people . . . have opened. Cf. p. 65, 1. 14. 
 
 1. 9. Clodius and Curio. Cf. p. 70, 1. 19. 
 
 1. is. aversion . . . against. Cf. p. 71, 1. 10 (note). 
 
 1. 17. universal fear . . . of the power of France. Cf. p. 66, 1. 1 (note). 
 
 1. 31, free from such obstructions = free from the check imposed 
 on their action by the displeasure of their constituents. 
 
 1. 34. the hand that holds the balance. Cf. p. 63, 11. 7 and 14, and 
 observe the variation in the present phrase. It is no longer ' those 
 that hold the balance,' but the single hand of the King, on which 
 Swift is disposed to rely. 
 
 THE TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 Page 76, 1. 2. Lord Somers was at this date (1704) fifty-four years 
 of age. His distinction as a lawyer was gained after he had spent 
 some years in the pursuit of literature ; but when he applied himself 
 entirely to his profession he attained rapid success. He opposed the 
 measures of the Court during the reigns of Charles II and James II, 
 and, after the Revolution, passed quickly, by the steps of the Solicitor 
 and Attorney Generalships, to the office of Lord Chancellor. In the 
 words of Lord Sunderland to William III, he ' was the life, the soul, 
 the spirit of his (the Whig) party.' He was one of those attacked by 
 the Commons in those proceedings which Swift condemned in his 
 treatise on Dissensions in Athens and Rome : and at that time Somers 
 resigned his office. At the date of this dedication he was still without 
 office, but held high rank in his party. From 1708 to 1710 he was 
 Lord President ; but Swift had then become too much estranged from 
 the Whigs to maintain his former cordial relations with Somers. 
 During the later years of Anne's reign, Somers was laid aside by ill- 
 health, and he died in 1716. He remained throughout life a warm 
 patron of literature. 
 
 78, 1. 34. This paragraph gives an admirable specimen of Swift's 
 skill in conveying a compliment through a delicate turn of raillery. 
 He accentuates the sincerity of his praise of the qualities which 
 Somers does possess by suggesting how easy it would be for insin- 
 cerity to add to the catalogue those to which he has no claim. The 
 same method of enhancing a compliment, by seeming to detracf from 
 it, appears again in the dedication of his Project for the Advancement 
 of Religion to the Countess of Berkeley. ' My design ... is that of 
 
NOTES, pp. 73-81. 373 
 
 publishing your praises to the world ; not upon the subject of your 
 noble birth, for I know others as noble ; or of the greatness of your 
 fortune, for I know others far greater ; or of that beautiful race which 
 call you mother, for even this may perhaps have been equalled in 
 some other age or country. . . What I intend is your piety, truth, 
 good sense, and good nature, affability, and charity.' 
 
 80, 1. 8. The Bookseller, in whose character Swift writes the 
 dedication, was John Nutt. 
 
 1. 13. The first treatise is the Tale of a Tub ; the second, the 
 Battle of the Books. They were published together in one volume, 
 with a Fragment, On the Mechanical Operation of the Spirit, not pub- 
 lished in this collection. 
 
 1. 23. It would, of course, be absurd to take these words seriously. 
 Swift's object is only to mystify ; the treatises were not published 
 sooner because Swift's occupation,and his long absences from London, 
 prevented it. 
 
 81, 1. 4. Don Quixote, Boccalini, la Bruyere. It is probably of set 
 purpose that Swift, speaking in the character of the bookseller, 
 enumerates Cervantes' hero as one of a list of authors ; and we may 
 also infer that the other names are introduced somewhat at random, 
 and without any special literary reference. The English parallel to 
 Don Quixote which naturally presents itself is Butler's Hudibras ; 
 but Swift, who greatly admired Butler, was not likely to refer to. 
 Hudibras with an implied sarcasm. Trajano Boccalini was an Italian 
 writer, who lived from 1556 to 1613. His works are Ragguagli di 
 Parnaso (News from Parnassus) and Pietra del Paragone Politico 
 (Political Touchstone). The last had a political bearing against 
 Spain, and was not published until after Boccalini's death. An 
 English translation of part of his works had appeared in 1626, and a 
 translation of the whole was now being prepared, and was issued in 
 1705, with a preface by John Hughes, the friend of Addison. He is 
 described as ' a satirical wit ' ; but this description, as now employed, 
 would scarcely apply to his works. The News from Parnassus 
 treats of moral questions by means of allegorical machinery, difficult 
 points being discussed by a council summoned by Apollo, and referred 
 to his decision. At times his essays approach very nearly to the 
 form of fables. There are passages in the Tale of a Tub which re- 
 call his manner, and some of the papers in the Spectator owed, perhaps, 
 something to his writings. La Bruyere founded his Caracteres upon 
 Theophrastus. As his Caracteres appeared only in 1687, it could 
 hardly be necessary to refit them ' to the humour of the age.' 
 
 1. 27. having decreed you sole arbiter. This use of the verb, 
 although both legitimate and forcible, seems to have become obsolete. 
 
374 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 31. the person, i.e. Time. 
 
 82, 1. n. this insolent. This is one of the French idioms which 
 Swift not infrequently affects. 
 
 I.17. and still continues. It would be more strictly grammatical 
 to say ' still continues to profess.' But Swift almost invariably pre- 
 fers to leave his reader to supply the sense, when he can do so 
 without sacrifice of perspicuity. 
 
 83, 1. 9. maitre du palais. It was by means of the power which 
 they obtained as Mayors of the Palace, that the Carlovingian dynasty 
 displaced the Merovingian, as Kings of the Franks. 
 
 1. 10. hors depage = out of tutelage. 
 
 1. 22. his, i. e. Time's. 
 
 I. 29. the laurel, the post of Poet Laureate. 
 
 84, 1. 9. uncontrollable = of universal application. The word is 
 used in exactly the same sense in Swift's tract on Maxims Controlled 
 in Ireland — that is to say, maxims which, however accepted else- 
 where, are inapplicable to the peculiar circumstances of Ireland. 
 
 1. 17. returning. This is another instance of Swift's sacrificing 
 strict grammatical accuracy to terseness of expression. ' When I 
 returned ' would, of course, be more correct. 
 
 I.23. without all taste. ' Altogether without ' or 'without any' 
 would be more according to rule, but perhaps less expressive. 
 
 1. 29. Mr. Forster compares the passage in Antony and Cleopatra 
 (Act iv. sc. 12) beginning ' Sometime we see a cloud that's dragon- 
 ish,' &c. 
 
 85, 1. 9. in return of, i. e. in exchange for, en retourde. Cf. p. 187, 
 1. 21. 
 
 1. 16. I can by no means warrant, i. e. ' I can give no warrant that 
 'hey will not happen.' 
 
 I.20. Dryden's Virgil was published in July 1697. The poet died 
 on May 1st, 1700, so that this Epistle is either purposely misleading 
 or was written (which seems unlikely) some years before its publica- 
 tion. Not even death secured Dryden against Swift's vengeance for 
 the unfavourable criticism of his early verses. (See Life, p. 7.) 
 
 1. 23. Nahum Tate was born in 1653, and educated at Trinity 
 College, Dublin. He was befriended by Dryden, for whom he wrote 
 much of the Second Part of Absalom and Achitophel. He was the 
 author of many works, but his name is chiefly remembered as that 
 of the metrical translator of the Psalms in conjunction with Brady. 
 ' Tate's poor page ' and ' The mild limbo of our Father Tate ' have 
 found a place in the Dunciad. He was Poet Laureate, and died in 1715. 
 
 1. 28. Tom Durfey, a prolific verse-writer of the day, much 
 esteemed as a social wit. Steele, in the Guardian, tells us how much 
 
notes, pp. 81-85. 375 
 
 the age was indebted to him for his Pills to Purge Melancholy ; and, 
 coupling his name jocularly with that of Pindar, bespeaks the favour 
 of a grateful public for a benefit-night, designed to make the old 
 singer easy in his declining days. In the Miscellanies of Swift, Pope 
 and Arbuthnot, there is a humorous poem (apparently by Swift) turn- 
 ing to ridicule a printer's error, by which an &c. was added to the 
 author's name on the title-page of one of Durfey's plays. He stirred 
 contempt more than anger ; and Pope wrote a Prologue to his last 
 play, in a mixed spirit of kindliness and ridicule. 
 
 1. 30. Mr. Rymer. Thomas Rymer (1638-1713) was the author 
 of some dramas and some essays in criticism, which shewed the worst 
 side of the literary faculty of his age. The most lamentable of these 
 attempts was his View of the Tragedies of the Last Age. As historio- 
 grapher he was employed on more laborious but, perhaps, more use- 
 ful work, in the compilation of the Fadera, *. statement of the inter- 
 national engagements of England. Rymer contributed more than one 
 pamphlet, adverse to the Christ Church wits, to the controversy on 
 the subject of ancient and modern learning. This sufficiently accounts 
 for Swift's dislike. 
 
 It 31. Mr. Dennis. The name of John Dennis (1657-1733) has 
 attained too much notoriety, as the aim for the bitterest sarcasms of 
 those whom he made it his object to attack, to permit the quotation 
 even of samples of his treatment by the chief writers of the day. He 
 was educated at Harrow and Cambridge, and seems to have had a fair 
 start in life, which was marred by his own boisterousness of manner 
 and unruliness of temper. A certain facility of writing, considerable 
 information, and some acuteness of argumentative power, made him 
 aspire to the function of critic. His pronounced Whig opinions 
 gained him some opponents, and his own increasing arrogance, 
 which approached the borders of insanity, added to the number. 
 Those whom he attacked belonged to all parties, and comprised 
 Addison and Steele as well as Pope. One story which is told of him 
 gives an index to his character. In consequence of some pamphlet 
 which he had written against France, he believed himself to be the 
 chief object of that nation's hatred ; and when a peace seemed im- 
 minent, he sought an interview with the Duke of Marlborough, to beg 
 that he should not be delivered over to the foe. Marlborough was at 
 pains to quiet the author's anxiety, by telling him that he had not 
 found it necessary to claim any special exemption for himself, although 
 he believed he had been the means of doing almost as much harm to 
 the French as Mr. Dennis. Dennis became, amongst the coterie led 
 by Swift and Pope, almost the type of the Critic as a name of oppro- 
 brium and contempt ; and he seems, indeed, to have gloried in the 
 
376 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 name. His later years were clouded by poverty, which Pope, with- 
 out any very severe tax upon his charity, did something to alleviate. 
 
 1. 32. Dr. Bentley. Richard Bentley (1662-1742), Royal Librarian 
 and, in 1699, Master of Trinity, Cambridge. He was the leader of 
 that opposition to Sir W. Temple which Swift attacked in the Battle 
 of the Books. The relation of Bentley and Wotton to the controversy 
 is more fully dealt with in connexion with that book. 
 
 86, 1. 6. A friend of your Governor, i. e. Sir William Temple, whose, 
 complimentary references to Phalaris, in his Treatise of Ancient Learn- 
 ing, were the object of Bentley's attack in the Dissertation ap- 
 pended to the second edition of Wotton's Reflections on Ancient and 
 Modern Learning. Temple is described as a friend of Time, because 
 it is assumed that his fame will be immortal. 
 
 1. 11. his forementioned friend, i.e. Bentley. 
 
 1. 17. A Satire against Wit was published in 1700 by Sir Richard 
 Blackmore, and it is curious to find Swift professing his intention to 
 undertake a business already attempted by one whom he made the 
 object of his satire. 
 
 1. 26. the many volumes of late years written for a help to their 
 studies. Such as the Delphine edition of the classics, written for the 
 help of the French Dauphin. 
 
 87, 1. 4. during the intervals of a long peace. This sentence is 
 characteristic of Swift, in its looseness of expression, combined with 
 perfect clearness of intention. The meaning is, of course, ' the times 
 of leisure given by a long peace interposed between times of war.' 
 Such an expression was, perhaps, rather less absurd in 1696, when 
 the book professes to have been written, than it would have been as 
 applied to 1704, when it was published, and when England was in the 
 midst of a war that showed no promise of an early conclusion. But 
 Swift uses it with sarcastic meaning, as war was one of those human 
 follies in which lucid intervals were to be assumed, even if they were 
 seldom found. 
 
 1. 12. new levies of wits. With reference to the frequent levies of 
 recruits which were held, to fill up that standing army which Swift 
 always viewed as a serious menace to liberty. 
 
 1. 18. a grand committee. A common Parliamentary device* 
 which Swift more than once attacks as a convenient contrivance of 
 party tactics. So in the Legion Club, 
 
 'Let them form a grand committee 
 How to plague and starve the city.' 
 
 1. 21. an empty tub. The phrase ' A Tale of a Tub ' was used by 
 Sir Thomas More to describe a pointless speech. Ben Jonson gave 
 the name to an early comedy, in which one of the characters was 
 
NOTES, pp. 85-88. 377 
 
 'Squire Tub.' Defoe, in a pamphlet published in 1704, on the 
 grievances of Irish Dissenters, speaks of a certain Bill as a ' Tale of a 
 Tub,' exactly in the sense here used by Swift, from whom it is quite 
 possible that Defoe borrowed the phrase. 
 
 1. 22. laying violent hands upon the ship. Here again we have a 
 phrase, almost Hibernian in its absurdity, which nevertheless forcibly 
 enough expresses what Swift wished to say. 
 
 1. 23. mythologised, i. c. provided with a remote or recondite 
 interpretation. 
 
 1. 24. Hobbes's Leviathan. Hobbes's Leviathan ; or Treatise 
 upon the Form of a Commonwealth, Civil and Ecclesiastical, was pub- 
 lished in 165 1. This particular treatise is cited here by Swift more 
 perhaps from its title than for any other reason ; and in the passing 
 comment that the wits find Hobbes a storehouse of weapons, there 
 may be an implied compliment, as well as in the hint that the objects 
 which Hobbes attacked were not always worthy of much reverence. 
 Swift certainly did not overlook or despise Hobbes, whose clearness 
 and perspicuity must have been not without some attraction for him, 
 and whose hatred of the Dissenters could not have failed to rouse 
 Swift's sympathy. But for Hobbes's views of absolutism Swift had 
 nothing but detestation. 'Arbitrary power,' Swift says, in the 
 Sentiments of a Church of England Man, ' notwithstanding all that 
 Hobbes, Filmer, and others have said to its advantage, I look upon as 
 a greater evil than anarchy itself, as much as a savage is in a happier 
 state of life than a slave at the oar.' ' She understood,' he writes of 
 Esther Johnson, ' the nature of government, and could point out all 
 the errors of Hobbes, both in that and religion.' ' Hobbes,' says the 
 Abstract on Free-thinking, ' was a person of great learning, virtue, and 
 free-thinking, except in the High Church politics.' This last sarcastic 
 reference is, perhaps, the strongest condemnation. Swift could not, 
 indeed, pardon Hobbes's formal disquisitions for the sake of his 
 originality, nor his attacks upon religion for the sake of his defence of 
 Church government. 
 
 88, 1. n. The description here is not without resemblance to that 
 of the Academy of Laputa. 
 
 1. 21. There is little to guide us to the proper meaning of these 
 ' schools.' That of spelling, a very spacious building, may refer to 
 niceties of verbal quibbling. That of looking-glasses may refer to the 
 follies of fashion. The school of swearing may refer to the blas- 
 phemies with which the wits helped out their poverty of diction, and 
 it was a vice against which Swift frequently inveighed. The school of 
 critics may be taken literally ; and there is little difficulty as to the 
 school of hobby-horses, on which men rode their caprices to the death. 
 
378 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 From a note in one of the early editions (perhaps by Wotton), the 
 school of tops seems to have been taken in the same sense. The school 
 of poetry is easily understood as the craze for versifying ; and that of 
 spleen as the indulgence of envy and malice. That of gaming seems 
 to join defects of morals with intellectual weaknesses. But it is im- 
 possible to say whether Swift had not some special dunces in view 
 under each of these headings. Cf. Tailer, No. 12 : ' Gamesters, 
 banterers, biters, swearers, and twenty new-born insects more, are, 
 in their several species, the Modern Men of Wit.' 
 
 1. 30. my imagination to make the tour'qf my invention. By 
 imagination, Swift seems to mean the fancy which, ranging over 
 the mere incidents which the more humble industry of his invention 
 might supply, might adapt them for the purposes of his work. 
 
 89, 1. 5. ' Something piquant, fresh, uttered by no other tongue.' 
 The quotation is from. Horace, Odes, iii. 25. 8. 
 
 \. 6. that necessary and noble course of study. An original note 
 explains, ' Reading prefaces,' &c. 
 
 1. 16. annihilate. A participle taken direct from annihilatusi 
 
 I. 23. lowardly, apt and well-applied. Cf. p. 194, 1. 20 
 
 1. 28. to furnish. According to Swift's frequent manner, instead 
 of ' of furnishing.' See p. 93, 1. 6. 
 
 1. 34. the very bottom of all the sublime. Swift purposely, and 
 with sarcastic reference to the misappropriation of high-sounding 
 words, joins these two ill-paired words. 
 
 90, 1. 11. Swift writes in the character of a Grub-street hack. 
 
 18. emergent — which may arise. 
 91, 1. 13. this objection, i. c. that he has omitted to make this natural 
 complaint, according to the fashion of the trade. 
 
 1. 24. fit, a part of a song or recital : and hence any new 
 division in a series, or any new specimen of his antics by the 
 mountebank. 
 
 92, 1. 8. The use of italics was carried to an absurd extent in Swift's 
 day ; and in the Tale of a Tub he made full use of the liberty in the 
 early editions. 
 
 1. 9. sublime, as a substantive, as on p. 90, 1. 1. 
 
 1. 16. have bought out the fee simple— and thus left nothing for 
 posterity to administer. 
 
 1. 18. Elogy is properly * speech delivered in memory of the 
 dead ; but in Swift's day, and previously, it was not infrequently 
 used as equivalent to ' eulogy.' 
 
 1. 29. dissent from, in the sense of ' differ from.' 
 
 1. 32. expostulate the case, i. e. show its guilt by proof. 
 93. 1. 6. the prerogative to sting. For this characteristic construction 
 
NOTES, pp. 88-95. 379 
 
 (' to sting,' instead of ' of stinging '), cf. p. 83, 1. 34 : ' The honour to 
 produce.' 
 
 1. n. the first monarch of this island, i.e. James I, who ad;ded 
 the thistle, entwined with the rose, in the scroll on the royal arms, 
 which bears the motto, Dieu et mon Droit. It is to this that Swift 
 seems to refer, as no such alteration was made in the collar of the 
 Order of the Garter. 
 
 1. 15. The sequence is not quite clear. Swift seems to mean, 
 that as Scotland gave us thistles for roses, so she may have given 
 us a taint of the national malady in the form of satire. 
 
 94, 1. 21. till he has talked round, i. e. has come back to the point 
 from which he began, and is forced to repeat himself. 
 
 1. 25. It is all pork. An original note gives the short reference 
 'Plutarch.' Swift is usually more precise in his references. The 
 nearest parallel I can find in Plutarch is in the life of Eumenes, who, 
 besieged in the fortress of Nora, had no food for his men but corn and 
 salt, which he seasoned with the sauce of his own conversation. 
 
 95, 1. 7. An original note cites ' Xenophon.' The passage occurs 
 in Xenophon's short treatise on the Athenian Republic, chap. 2. 18 : 
 Kaj^a/5e<V 5' aS teal icafcais \eyuv t6v flip hrjfiuv ov/c iwaiv, Iva pt] avrol 
 axovojai /cantos' Wla S£ Ke\*vovatv €i ris riva 0oi\erai, eu eld^res ot< 
 oyxl 70v hrifiov iariv, oi/Se tov irKfiSovs Kajfiq;5ovfi€vos tbs eni t& 
 TrotoJ, dAA* $ irtovaLOS fj yevvaios, $ Swdfj-evos : ' They allow no one to 
 turn to ridicule, or speak ill of, the people, that they may not hear 
 themselves ill spoken of ; but if any one wishes to satirize another, 
 they bid him do it as a personal matter, being well aware that the 
 individual who is turned to ridicule does not, as a rule, belong to the 
 people or the multitude, but is either a rich man, or one of noble birth, 
 or powerful.' Aristophanes (The Knights, v. 42) — 'the People, 
 gathered in its common assembly, is an ill-tempered, deaf old dotard ' 
 — is quoted against the truth of Xenophon's saying. 
 
 Swift himself certainly did not follow the Athenian practice. 
 His attacks on individuals are comparatively rare ; the weight of his 
 bitterest satire falls upon humanity. ' He hated and detested that 
 animal called man ... he loved only individuals ' (Swift to Pope, 
 Sept. 29, 1725). ' Upon the foundation of misanthropy,' he says, 
 'the whole building of his (Gulliver's) travels was erected.' Cf. 
 his solemn warning to Pope and Gay upon their attacks on indi- 
 viduals (printed in my Life of Swift, p. 399). 
 
 1. 10. Creon is so printed in the earliest editions, and has been 
 followed by Scott. But we may safely assume that it is a printer's 
 error, if not a slip of the pen, for Cleon. The four Athenians named 
 were all introduced by one or other of the comedians classed together 
 
380 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT, 
 
 by Horace — ' Eupolis, atque Cratinus Aristophanesque poetae.' 
 Cleon was the notorious demagogue during the Peloponnesian War ; 
 Hyperbolus, his feebler imitator, who disgraced the punishment of 
 ostracism by becoming its victim ; Alcibiades was the brilliant repre- 
 sentative of the younger and more ambitious faction ; and Demos- 
 thenes was the general associated, along with Nicias, in the disasters 
 of the Syracusan expedition. 
 
 1. si. Astraea, daughter of Zeus and Themis, who dwelt on 
 earth for the blessing of men during the Golden Age, but afterwards 
 fled to the stars. 
 
 1. 22. Splendida bills is the expression used by Horace to describe 
 the tragic rage of Orestes. 
 
 1. 26. Covent Garden was the quarter of the town where vice was 
 most flagrant ; Whitehall was the seat of the Government offices ; 
 while the Inns of Court represent the lawyers ; and the mercantile 
 classes, in Swift's time, lived as well as worked in the City. 
 
 96, 1. 6. Paris represents some dull and timid member of the 
 judicial bench. Juno and Venus probably represent Money and 
 Female influence ; an early note states that some such scandal was 
 current in regard to a judge at the time. But the annotator cannot 
 give the name, and we may be content to dispense with it. The in- 
 dependence secured for the Bench by the Act of Settlement was still 
 new ; but Swift does not here refer to political influence. 
 
 1. 10. scandalum magriatum. The offence of uttering treasonable 
 libels against one in authority. 
 
 97, 1. 3. Cf. Hudlbras, Part iii. c. 2. 1. 971 
 
 ' For charlatans can do no good 
 Until they 're mounted in a crowd.' 
 I.7. wedge them ever so close. This use of the word wedge is typical 
 of an English habit, to which no one has contributed more than 
 Swift, of employing a word in a sense which is clear and expressive, 
 but altogether secondary. Something may be packed so tightly that 
 a wedge cannot find its way in ; and so we come to speak of ' wedged 
 close ' as if it were the same as ' packed close.' Shakespeare's phrase, 
 in Henry VIII, shews how the secondary usage arises. The speaker 
 tells how he had just been, 
 
 'Among the crowd in the abbey, where a finger 
 Could not be wedged in more.' 
 1. 11. ' To climb to the upper air — this is the chief labour, this 
 the special toil.' The hackneyed beginning of the quotation, ' Facilis 
 descensus Averni,' would have no application here ; and Swift, who 
 did not like such trite quotations, was doubtless glad to avoid it. 
 1. 16. these kind of structures. A faulty construction, common 
 
NOTES, pp. 95-98. 381 
 
 in our own day, which finds authority from a not infrequent usage of 
 Swift's. 
 
 1. 17. that of, i.e. the practice of. The connexion with the pre- 
 ceding clause is inexact. 
 
 1. 18. Socrates. So he is represented in the Clouds of Aristo- 
 phanes. 
 
 I. 24. north-west regions, i. e. our own island, where Swift had no 
 wish that philosophical speculation should find a home. 
 
 I.31. the pulpit, the ladder, and the stage itinerant, representing 
 the dissenting preacher, the rogue that suffers for his crimes, and the 
 mountebank. 
 
 98, 1. 1. compounded of the same matter, i. e. depending, like the 
 others, upon blatant noise and facile consciences. 
 
 1. 7. The original design . . . the present practice. The sarcastic 
 reference to the ' present practice ' of a droning bench of judges is 
 obvious enough (cf. p. 96, 1. 7) ; but it is less easy to see where the 
 sarcasm lies against the original design. Probably Swift brings in 
 the allusion to the ' original design] and ' the primitive institution] 
 only to give an air of mock erudition to the sentence, which is 
 carried out by the imaginary Phoenician etymology. Observe the 
 somewhat irregular variety in the construction of the two clauses ; 
 ' They will acknowledge the present practice {to be) exactly corre- 
 spondent . . . and both (present practice and primitive institution) to 
 answer.' 
 
 1. 15. senes ut in otia tuta recedant, ' that when they are old they 
 may have places of secure retreat.' The object of all toil, as described 
 by Horace, Sat. i. 1. 30. 
 
 1. 17. formerly, i. c. when they were at the bar. 
 
 1, 2i. oratorial, an obsolete form, for which 'oratorical' is now 
 used. Cf. p. 99, 1. 7, and p. 101, 1. 16. It does not appear to be found 
 elsewhere : but Swift uses it frequently. 
 
 1. 26. some mystical number. This was a favourite topic with the 
 cabalists and the principal sects that endeavoured to keep alive their 
 spirit even to Swift's day. 
 
 1. 31. coupling some against their wills. &c, i. e. classifying certain 
 species as members of a genus to which they do not naturally belong, 
 and in other cases excluding a species which would disorder their 
 preconceived theory of the mystic number. 
 
 1. 33. the profound number Three. In the Apology, of 1709, Swift 
 expressly defends himself against the charge that any impious refer- 
 ence to the doctrine of the Trinity was here intended. There was in 
 the original manuscript, he says, a fourth wooden machine : but it 
 was omitted because it was thought to have * satiric reference ' too 
 
383 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 particular.' The number ttmwas thus only accidental : and ' indeed,' 
 he adds, ' the conceit was half spoiled by changing the numbers : 
 that of four being much more cabalistic' (See p. 158.) But it is 
 symptomatic of Swift's strange apathy of perception, that he should 
 have felt surprised at his readers finding a reference which seems 
 obvious enough. 
 
 99, 1. io. sylva Caledonia. Pulpits from the Scottish wood refer, of 
 course, to the Presbyterian preachers. 
 
 1. 12. for other reasons. See p. 101, 1. 25. 
 
 1. 16. the only uncovered vessel. This may be an allusion to the 
 wearing of hats in conventicles, as a protest against ceremony. 
 
 1. 25. Broadsides containing the last speeches of criminals about 
 to be hanged, were regularly issued. Swift composed and published 
 a fictitious speech on the occasion of the execution of Ebenezer 
 Elliston in Dublin (1722). 
 
 1. 27. Mr. John Dunton. Swift had now, apparently, learned to 
 take at his true valuation this strange projector. (Compare the notes 
 upon the Ode to the Athenian Society, p. 51.) It would not be sur- 
 prising if such a collection was one of the projects of this odd 
 adventurer. 
 
 1. 33. sub Jove pluvio, in triviis et quadriviis. Under a rainy sky, 
 and where the roads meet and cross. 
 
 100, 1. 19. corpoream quoque, &c. Swift quotes Lucretius, from 
 whom he takes his description of the doctrine of Epicurus. The 
 lines may be translated, ' We must needs ascribe a bodily nature both 
 to the voice and to sound, since they can produce an influence upon 
 the senses.' 
 
 " 101, 1. 5. Nauseous as Swift occasionally is, his nauseousness is 
 always sarcastic. He has no toleration for that commonplace 
 noisomeness which seeks to supply the place of wit. 
 
 1. 16. physico-logical, i.e. partly physical and partly mental. 
 
 1. 17. mystery, something symbolical. Cf. p. 181, 1. 22. 
 
 1. 28. a type with a pair of handles. This is borrowed from the 
 style of the sermons of the ' modern saints.' 
 
 102, 1. 2. Do perorare with a song. Finish their discourse with 
 some fanatical outburst. 
 
 I. 3. to turn them off. As the hangman does the criminal. 
 
 1. 5. By transferring of propriety. As robbing brings men to the 
 gallows. Propriety is used as equivalent to ' property.' Cf. p. Ill, 1. 32. 
 
 1. 11. Grub street. A street in Moorfields, occupied by hack- 
 writers of the lower sort, and an endless subject of satire to the 
 writers whom these humble aspirants to literature were encouraged 
 by such notice to attack. 
 
NOTES, pp. 98-105. 383 
 
 1. 27. the Society of Gresham = the Royal Society: Will's is the 
 coffee-house in Covent Garden, the resort of all the leading literary 
 men of the day. Swift never spared either the Scientists or the Wits, 
 and finds for both a descent from Grub Street. 
 
 103, 1. 7. Archimedes undertook to move the earth, if a lever large 
 enough were provided. 
 
 1. 22. briguing. This is another instance of Swift's fondness for 
 French words. It is equivalent to ' intriguing.' Cf. p. 82, 1. 11. 
 1. 28. extreme, where modern usage would have ' extremely.' 
 
 104, 1. 2 and note. The virtuoso experiments refer to the Royal 
 Society : the modern comedies to the company at Will's. The word 
 virtuoso was frequently used to describe an experimental philosopher. 
 It gives its title to a play by Shadwell, the butt of Dryden, in which 
 Sir Nicholas Gimcrack is the representative of the scientific theorists. 
 Boyle so interprets it in his treatise (1690) On the Christian Virtuoso, 
 which is designed to shew that the pursuit of experimental philosophy 
 is not inconsistent with orthodox Christianity. Boyle, who was the 
 patron of Swift's enemy, Burnet, was a special mark for Swift's 
 satire against the physicists, and not a few of Swift's allusions seem 
 to have Boyle's works in view. To him Boyle was the leading 
 representative of the Royal Society, and he was the object of ridicule 
 in the Meditation on a Broomstick. Cf. the Tatler, No. 216. King 
 satirizes the Virtuoso of the Royal Society in the Transactioneer, 
 which was chiefly aimed at Sir Hans Sloane. 
 
 If more than a general reference to the would-be wits is intended 
 by the ' Modern Comedies,' we may suppose Swift to have had in his 
 eye such comedians as Durfey, Mrs. Afra Behn, and possibly Colley 
 Cibber (although he had produced little when this was written). 
 Wycherley was well thought of in Swift's circle : Congreve was his 
 own friend : and Vanburgh, though at times a butt, was not despised. 
 1. 21. grubaean. This adjective Swift has invented for himself, 
 although far from being alone in his commemoration of Grub 
 Street. 
 
 1. 23. which having been, &c. The carelessness of construction 
 here almost outruns Swift's usual licence. So in 1. 28 as neither to 
 regard =so that they neither regard. 
 
 105, 1. 9. exantlation. Drawing out or exhaustion. The word is 
 one which Boyle uses, but which is now obsolete. 
 
 1. 12. Swift's object in this passage is to satirize the wasted 
 labour of those who write elaborate treatises upon what he cites at 
 random, as common specimens of childish tales. It seems probable 
 that he had in view the laborious but cumbrous and ill-digested work 
 of Anthony a Wood {Athena! Oxonienses), which had been published 
 
384 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 two or three years before. Cf. the satirical reference to Hearne, as 
 Wormius, in the Dunciad, jii. 185. It is curious that Hearne (who 
 was no doubt preceded by others in the same view) fulfilled Swift's 
 prophecy by asserting that Reynard the Fox was a political treatise. 
 But Swift would have been still more astonished had he been able to 
 foresee the careful and scientific study that might be applied to the 
 subject, without pedantry, and with no little interest. 
 
 1. 24. Tom Thumb. A treatise of mock seriousness was actually 
 written in 1711 by Wagstaffe, on the story of Tom Thumb, in ridicule 
 of Addison's Spectators on Chevy Chace, which had appeared early in 
 the -same year. Wagstaffe refers to this passage in the Tale. 
 
 1. 28. Dr. Faustus. It is curious that Swift, even in a passing fit 
 of sarcasm, should compare this story, to the antiquity and interest of 
 which he could scarcely be blind, with the ordinary nursery tales of 
 the day. 
 
 Artephius was an alchemist, who wrote in the 12th century. In 
 one of his treatises he pretends to be 1025 years old; One of his 
 books had obtained some vogue in a French translation. 
 
 1. 29. adeptus. A word used by the Cabalists, to describe one 
 versed in the mysteries of the art. Cf. p. 134, 1. 17 (note). 
 
 1. 31. The words here seem purposely to recall some unmeaning 
 jumble of pedantic phrases. Swift's dislike of the Greshamites blinded 
 him to the distinction between what was useful and what was absurd 
 in their investigations. The tediousness and cumbrousness of their 
 expositions gave some justification to his contempt. 
 
 106, 1. 1. Whittington and his cat. We need seek no reason for 
 Swift's connexion of this story with the Jews, except a passing 
 whim. The Misna, or Mishnah, is the collection of legal decisions 
 by the ancient Rabbi, and the Gemara is the body of discussions 
 upon the interpretation of such decisions. Swift is using here 
 the results of the discursive and voluminous reading of his early 
 years. 
 
 1. 5. The Hind and the Panther. Swift contemptuously classifies 
 Dryden's poem with other nursery tales. In 1697, when Swift pro- 
 fesses that the Tale was written, Dryden was still living. 
 
 1. 8. Tommy Pots was a popular ballad of the day. 
 
 1. 10. The zvise men of Gotham. The paragraph shews that Swift 
 had in his mind, when writing the Tale, the struggle between Temple 
 and Boyle on one side, and Bentley and Wotton on the other, towards 
 which his Battle of the Books was a contribution. It illustrates the 
 close connexion that exists between the satiric aim of both the books. 
 The abstract of this treatise is no doubt Dr. Wotton's Reflections 
 on Ancient and Modem Learning. The popular fable which made 
 
NOTES, pp. 105-HO. 385 
 
 Gotham, in Nottinghamshire, the home of all sorts of inconsequent 
 folly, is at least as old as the days of King John, and Anthony a Wood 
 wrote of Andrew Boorde (the original of ' Merry Andrew ') as the 
 author of the tales of the ' Madmen of Gotham.' 
 
 I. 26. a quill worn to the pith, &c. This is another hit at Dryden, 
 whose tergiversations Swift wishes to satirize. No doubt is possible, 
 as Swift in the Apology for the Tale, written in 1709, expressly says 
 that he had Dryden and L'Estrange in view in this passage. Dry- 
 den's postscript to the Aeneid, published in 1697, reflects something of 
 this tone of complaint. 
 
 1. 28. Meal-tubs. This refers to the Meal-tub plot in the days of 
 Charles II. r 
 
 1. 34. Fourscore and eleven pamphlets . . .for the service of six-and- 
 thirty factions. Mr. Forster quotes Porson's discovery of the curious 
 parallel between this passage and one in Gulliver. In Lilliput, the 
 hero is bound by 'four score and eleven chains, like those which 
 hang to a lady's watch in Europe, and about as large, which were 
 locked to my left leg with six and thirty padlocks.' 
 
 107, 1. 30. a multiplicity of godfathers. Alluding to the number of 
 different patrons to whom Dryden dedicated his translations of Virgil. 
 The Eclogues were dedicated to Lord Clifford : the Georgics to the 
 Earl of Chesterfield : and the Aeneid to the Marquis of Normanby, 
 afterwards Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 109, 1. 19. Money, Great Titles, and Pride, the three chief sources 
 of corruption in the early Church. 
 
 1. 28. bulks. Stalls or benches in front of shops. 
 bilked= cheated of their fare. 
 
 1. 30. Lockets was an ordinary near Charing Cross. . For Will's, 
 see note to p. 102, 1. 27. 
 
 1. 33. billetdoux is used as one word, and billet thus retains the 
 singular. 
 
 110, 1. 1. sub dio. In the open air, i. e. no more than any of the 
 crowd in the street who might watch those who went to the levee. 
 
 1. 19. « sort of idol = the tailor, as the deity presiding over the 
 production of clothes. 
 
 1. 21. In the highest part of the house. The tailors seem to have 
 worked in garrets. 
 
 1. 23. with his legs interwoven under him. Cross-legged, as a tailor 
 sits at work. 
 
 1. 24. There is here a pun upon the tailor's goose, identified with 
 the sacred geese of the Capitol. Cf. Hudibras, Part ii. c. 3. 1. 799 
 'These consecrated geese in orders 
 That to the Capitol were warders.' 
 VOL. I. C C 
 
3 86 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 26. deduce his original = trace his descent from. The word 
 original, for ' origin,' occurs frequently in Swift, but is now obsolete. 
 The expression deduce his original is clearly incorrect, though expres- 
 sive enough. 
 
 1. 27. Hell. Cf. p. 127, 1. 6. It is the place into which the tailor 
 threw his shreds. Cf. King's Art of Cookery — 
 
 ' In Covent Garden did a tailor dwell 
 Who might deserve a place in his own hell.' 
 And Hudibras — 
 
 ' This trusty squire he had, as well 
 As the bold Trojan knight, seen Hell — 
 Not with a counterfeited pass 
 Of golden bough, but true gold lace.' 
 
 1. 34. the yard and the needle. Here again there is a pun on 
 the identification of the tailor's needle with that of the mariner's 
 compass. 
 
 Ill, 1. 5. the universe to be a large suit of clothes. To most 
 modern readers this passage will naturally suggest a comparison 
 with some parts of Carlyle's Sartor Resartus. There are not wanting 
 signs that Swift was in Carlyle's mind when he wrote ; and not a few 
 sentences in the Sartor are certainly suggested by the passage now 
 before us, Carlyle's quotations from Hudibras are curious when we 
 remember how full the Tale of a Tub is of allusions to that poem. 
 Swift is actually quoted once (at the end of ch. 8. Part I). Carlyle's 
 word ' virtuosity ' is suggested by Swift. The superiority which 
 Carlyle finds in the equine race, in one passage of Sartor (contra- 
 dicted by another in ch. 4 of Part II), reminds us of Gulliver. The 
 description of a Judge, as an arrangement of clothes (ch. 9 of Part II), 
 is evidently borrowed from Swift ; and so, also, the description of 
 the Tailor as God (ch. n of Part II). The proposal of Carlyle to use 
 the poor as food (ch. 4 of Part II) owes its suggestion to Swift's 
 Modest Proposal (see Vol. II of this collection). But when we have 
 traced these coincidences, due to suggestion or accident alone, we 
 have come to an end of the resemblance. Swift sneers at all human 
 conventions, contemptible because they are the creation of human 
 vanity. Carlyle preaches that all the visible conditions of our 
 life are, of necessity, but a dream-like phantasmagoria, behind 
 which the real mystery of the latent spirit is hidden. Not customs, 
 traditions, institutions only, but even Time and Space, which 
 condition our thought, are, to Carlyle, merely Clothes. He 
 aims at Poetry, Philosophy, Prophecy ; Swift begins and ends with 
 Satire. 
 
 1. 8. primum mobile. The name given by the older astronomers 
 
NOTES, pp. IIO-II3. 387 
 
 to the outer region which contributed the principle of movement to 
 the regions nearer to the earth. Congreve compares the Pindaric 
 strophe and antistrophe ' to the contrarotation of the primum mobile 
 in respect of the secunda mobilia.' 
 
 1. 11. Tabby is the epithet applied to a stuff that has been passed 
 under a calender to give it a wavy appearance. Water-tabby is a 
 double epithet used as we speak of * watered ' silk. 
 
 1. 17. micro-coat. The Cabalists were used to speak of man as a 
 microcosm, and the notion appears more than once in the poems of 
 Donne and his contemporaries. 
 
 1. 32. proprieties. The word is obsolete in the sense in which 
 Swift uses it, as = properties. Cf. p. 102, 1. 5. 
 
 112, 1. 10. were yet more refined, i. e. ran into further refinements. 
 In that sense we now use the word ' refined ' without the auxiliary 
 verb. Swift himself so uses it on p. 124, 1. 26. 
 
 1. 13. That the soul was the outward, &c. This is a vague re- 
 miniscence of some of the ideas of the Gnostics, whose theories 
 Swift had studied in Irenaeus (see p. 179, 1. 30 and note). 
 
 1. 14. ex traduce. Tradux is a layer used for propagating vines ; and 
 hence the stock by which anything is produced directly from, and in 
 connexion with, the original source. Swift's strangely varied reading 
 is again illustrated by this. He must almost certainly have had in his 
 mind the words in which Prudentius {Apotheosis, v. 915) describes a 
 heresy which attributes a material origin to the soul by tracing it as 
 coming ' traduce carnis . . . sanguinis exemplo.' The discussion as 
 to the ' traduction ' of the soul enters into Brown's Religio Medici ; 
 and Sir Kenelm Digby, in his Observations thereon, uses this phrase 
 ex traduce. ' The soul,' he says, ' is not ex traduce, and yet hath a 
 strange kind of near dependence on the body, which is, as it were, 
 God's instrument to create it by.' 
 
 1. 16. in them we live, and move, and have our being. Wotton, in 
 his strictures on the Tale, comments severely upon the ridicule of 
 the solemn passage in the Bible from which these words are taken. 
 Swift was stirred to anger by such criticisms ; but only that strange 
 apathy which characterizes him could blind him to the obvious sug- 
 gestion of his words. 
 
 1. 18. All in all, and all in every part. This is taken from the 
 philosophical notion of Anaxagoras regarding the homogeneity of the 
 universe. The notion penetrated the fanciful systems which Swift 
 means to satirize. He seems to have taken the doctrine of Anaxa- 
 goras as expressed by Lucretius, Bk. i. v. 876 ' Ut omnibus omnes Res 
 putet immixtas rebus latitare.' 
 
 1. 23. with great vogue. The word vogue, which Swift uses fre- 
 C C 2 
 
388 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 quently, was another of those which his and the preceding generation 
 had borrowed from France. 
 
 11. 26, 27. wit . . . humour. The distinction between these two, in 
 Swift's day, may be taken from the locus classicus on the subject 
 (Spectator, No. 35). The genealogy of True Humour Addison gives 
 thus : ' Truth was the founder of the family, and the father of Good 
 Sense. Good Sense was the father of Wit, who married a lady of a 
 collateral line, called Mirth, by whom he had issue Humour.' So he 
 gives Falsehood as the mother of Nonsense, who had a son called 
 Frenzy, who married one of the daughters of Folly, commonly known 
 by the name of Laughter, and ' begot that monstrous infant,' False 
 Humour. The genealogy makes it clear that, in the well-defined 
 sense of that day, Wit was purely intellectual ; while to produce 
 Humour, mirth had to be added. Now-a-days, each man seems to 
 adopt his own interpretation. Cf also the lines in Sheffield's Essay 
 on Poetry — 
 
 'That silly thing men call sheer wit avoid, 
 With which our age so nauseously is cloyed; 
 Humour is all : wit should be only brought 
 To turn agreeably some proper thought.' 
 
 I.28. very good raillery — by which Swift means 'very bad.' He 
 adds the epithet because raillery, by itself, was a word for which he 
 had a high respect. ' Raillery,' he says, in the Essay on Conversation 
 (see Vol. II. of this collection), ' is the finest part of conversation ' ; 
 and he there gives a perfect definition of the art of refined 
 raillery. 
 
 1. 34. race of thinking. Race has here the sense of a special 
 flavour, as of wine, whence the adjective ' racy.' 
 
 113, 1. 24. allofa piece ; but at the same time very plain,. Swift thus 
 describes primitive Christianity ; and Wotton has the note on the 
 passage, 'This is the distinguishing character of the Christian re- 
 ligion ; Christiana religio absoluta et simplex was Ammianus, Marcel- 
 linus's description of it, who was himself a heathen.' 
 
 1. 28. Ruelle was the passage between the bed and the wall, 
 which the great ladies of the Court of Louis XIV used as a salon. 
 The style de ruelle was the language of the pre'cieuses, ridiculed by 
 Moliere. 
 
 1. 30. Swift here renews (from p. 109) the description of the 
 corruptions which grew upon the primitive Church. 
 
 1. 33. twelve-penny gallery. The cheapest place ; see p. 101, 
 1. 13- 
 
 114, 1. 1. The Rose. This tavern stood in Russell Street, Covent 
 Garden. Swift names it in the verses on his own death — . 
 
NOTES, pp. II3-II5. 389 
 
 ' Suppose me dead, and then suppose 
 A Club assembled at the Rose.' 
 Here the duel between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun was 
 arranged in 1712 ; see p. 313. 
 
 114, 1. 7. what temper should they find. Temper, here, seems to 
 mean a middle course, or compromise. 
 
 115, 1. 5. jure paternb. Bentley assumes this to mean jure divino, 
 and to be a hit at the defence of later and unessential ceremonies as 
 of divine institution. This would be rather contrary to Swift's views 
 on Church matters ; and we may therefore suppose that it merely 
 means ' by right derived from their father.' Cf. p. 118, 1. 27. 
 
 1. 11. fifty yards of gold late. This maybe taken to refer gene- 
 rally to the unceasing tendency to tag on to the simplicity of primitive 
 Christianity some new figment of vanity and fashion. But to attempt 
 the identification of each feature of this part of the Satire — which is by 
 no means the strongest — with some special deviation from the sim- 
 plicity of the early order, would be useless refining. The allusions 
 are, in the main, obvious enough. 
 
 1. 20. circumstantial (besides its technical meaning as applied to 
 evidence) seems to be used in two distinct senses — viz. to describe 
 either, something which deals only with accidental and unimportant 
 incidents ; or, something which commands belief from the fulness and 
 exactness with which it treats of details and incidents attending an 
 occurrence. The latter is the common usage in our day : Swift 
 here uses the word in the other sense, which seems now to be 
 obsolete. 
 
 1. 21. too considerable an alteration without better warrant. This 
 is another instance of Swift's habit of elliptical writing. He does not 
 mean, as grammatically we might infer, that gold-lace is without 
 better warrant than shoulder-knots, but that gold-lace is an alteration 
 too considerable to be made without better warrant. 
 
 I. 22. aliquo modo essentia! adharere. Swift borrows here from 
 the Latin of the Schoolmen, which was followed by the later revivers 
 of Alchemy. It is hard to say why Swift considered these whimsical 
 fancies to be worth the trouble of satirizing. 
 
 II. 24, 25. Aristolelis dialectica . . . de interpretatione. Swift must 
 be taken to speak rather at random of Aristotle's works, the first-hand 
 study of which had not made any real progress in England in his 
 time. The dialectica seems to refer to the current Latin representa- 
 tions of the Aristotelian logic, and the De interpretatione to some 
 exposition of Aristotle's views irepl diroSeif eoiy, or the explanation of 
 logical terms. 
 
 1. 28. proceed prophets. A usage frequent with Swift. Cf. 
 
390 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 p. 188, 1. i 'proceeded a heathen philosopher'; and p. 145, 
 1. 17. 
 
 1. 30. nuncupatory and scriptory, the will by word of mouth, and 
 that committed to writing. The former was, by the Roman law, 
 allowed to be valid in certain cases, as in that of => soldier on cam- 
 paign. The nuncupatory will here represents oral tradition. 
 
 1. 32. conceditur . . . negatur. The words used in the School disputa- 
 tions for granting, and refusing to admit, an opponent's postulate. 
 
 116, 1. 6. without more ado got. Some'editions insert ' they.' But 
 to require the reader to supply the pronoun from the sense of the 
 preceding sentence scarcely seems contrary to Swift's elliptical 
 habit. 
 
 1. 9. flame-coloured satin for linings. Bentley interprets the 
 'flame-coloured satin ' as purgatory, and ' linings ' as prayers for the 
 dead. The first interpretation may be true, but the second seems to 
 be far-fetched and scarcely to fit the description. 
 
 1. 11. My Lord C and Sir J. W. An early note tells us, 
 
 without giving names, as to which more than one guess might be 
 hazarded, that these were well-known men of fashion in 1697. 
 
 I.21. This, though a good deal for the purpose, &c. Observe the 
 break in the construction after the first clause. The homeliness and 
 irregularity of the style seem intended to increase the dramatic force 
 of the story. ' For the purpose ' would now naturally be ' to the 
 purpose.' 
 
 1. 30. a codicil. This doubtless refers to the Apocryphal books. 
 The use of these had been the subject of some discussion and pamphlet- 
 war towards the close of the 17th century. The Book of Tobit was 
 specially put forward as typical of these books ; and the episode of 
 Tobit and his dog no doubt suggested the ' dog-keeper '■ in 1. 32. 
 
 117, 1. 6. silver fringe. As in the case of the gold-lace, it would be 
 difficult to fix the interpretation, and would serve little purpose 
 to try. 
 
 1. 33. Indian figures. This clearly refers to the use of images in 
 churches. 
 
 118, 1. 14. cum grano salt's. With a grain of salt, i.e. with a 
 certain reservation. 
 
 1. 17. searching farther evasions. The word search seems now to 
 have lost the meaning it has here, and not rarely in Swift's time and 
 before, of ' looking for,' or ' seeking after ' a thing, and to be used, 
 when not joined with a preposition, only to express ' careful examina- 
 tion into ' a thing. 
 
 i> 1. 21. a strong box, brought out of Greece or Italy. This refers 
 to the refusal of the Scriptures in the vernacular, the Latin of the 
 
J 
 
 NOTES, pp. 115-131. 391 
 
 Vulgate and the Greek of the New Testament keeping the knowledge 
 of them from the laity. 
 
 \> 1. 27. ex cathedra, as by the authority of the Papal Chair. 
 jure paterno. See p. 115, 1. 5. 
 1. 32. emolument, as frequently (e.g. in the Tatter), means 
 merely ' weal ' or ' benefit,' without the modern limited meaning of 
 personal remuneration. Cf. p. 130, 1. 7 ; p. 166, 1. 31 ; and 
 p. 171, 1. 15. 
 
 1. 34. else multa absurda sequerentur = without this power many 
 absurd results would come about. 
 
 119, 1. 6. This, and the next sentence, refer to the forged Donation 
 of Constantine, from which the temporal power of the Popes was 
 traced. 
 
 1. 17. illustrious moderns. Again Swift reverts to the subject of 
 the Battle of the Books, as he does so often throughout the Tale. Cf. 
 p. 106, 1. 10 and note, and p. 122, 1. 30. 
 
 I. 26. the original. Cf. p. 110, 1. 26 (note); p. 120, 1. 29; and 
 p. 122, 11. 16, 23. 
 
 120, 1. 10. Edinburgh streets. The primitive sanitary arrangements 
 of the northern capital, and the cry of ' gardes I'eau,' by which the 
 wayfarer was warned, are familiar from the pages of Smollett and 
 others. 
 
 1. 16. critic in a literal sense, i. e. one whose function was to judge 
 (jcpivai). 
 
 1. 30. Compare the lineage as varied, in the Battle of the Books, 
 p. 214. Momus and Hybris are Nonsense and Insolence. Zoilus 
 was a grammarian of the age of Demosthenes, notorious for his 
 attacks on Homer, and his name is thus proverbially used for a 
 captious critic. Tigellius is the detractor to whose attacks upon him- 
 self Horace alludes with almost playful contempt. For Benttey, 
 Wotton, and Perrault, see the prefatory note to the Battle of the 
 Books ; and for Rymer and Dennis, see p. 85, 11. 30, 31 (notes). 
 
 121, 1. 29. 1 See another reference to the recovery of his cattle, 
 and the unearthing of the thief Cacus, by Hercules, at p. 155, 1. 4. 
 
 It is not very easy to see the application of the satire here ; but 
 probably Swift purposely confuses the reminiscences of the labours of 
 Hercules so as to mark the mock-heroic labours of the True Critic. 
 Errors (which had better be left in their obscurity) the Critic drags out, 
 as the hero did Cacus ; these errors he multiplies, — as the Hydra's 
 heads were multiplied on Hercules' hands ; then, instead of clearing 
 the Augean stable, as the hero did, by making streams flow through 
 it, he heaps up and preserves the dung ; and lastly, as Hercules drove 
 away the brazen-clawed birds of the Stymphalian lake, so the Critic 
 
39a SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 would discourage those whose taste guides them to browse upon 
 what is of real value in the Tree of Knowledge. The Critic reverses, 
 rather than emulates, the labours of Hercules. But, from p. 128, 
 1. 17, it would seem as if the Critic himself performed the function of 
 the Stymphalian birds. 
 
 122, 1. -'}. agreeable, for ' agreeably' ; as extreme, for 'extremely' 
 (p, 103, 1. 28). 
 
 I. 30. Again Swift comes back to the Ancient and Modern con- 
 troversy. See p. 119, 1. 17 (note). 
 
 123, 1. 3. a comprehensive list of them. The first edition has a 
 marginal note : ' See Wotton of Ancient and Modern Learning.' In 
 that treatise Wotton went, in detail, through the comparative achieve- 
 ments of Ancients and Moderns in Poetry, Oratory, Mathematics, 
 Medicine, &c, &c. 
 
 1. 19. both these, i. e. both satire and panegyric on critics. This is 
 explained in an original marginal note. 
 
 1. 31. against the antiquity = as an argument to disprove the 
 antiquity. 
 
 124, 1. 17. The reference is to Pausanias, Bk. II. ch. 38. Having 
 mentioned the story, Pausanias adds, ' This story I shall pass by, as 
 not worthy of discussion.' 
 
 1. 22. in terminis = by the use of the same words. 
 
 1. 23. Observe tax ...of, where later usage, and Swift's own 
 elsewhere, has tax . . . with. Cf. p. 142, 1. 28. 
 
 I. 25. See Herodotus, Bk. IV. ch. 191. The horned asses are 
 mentioned with other odd products of Libya, such as men without 
 heads, and with an eye in their breast, and other drjpia Karaififvara. 
 
 1. 26. Here again we have another curious illustration of Swift's 
 strangely ch osen reading. The Bibliotheca, or Myriobiblon, of Photius 
 (Patriarch of Constantinople in the 9th century) contained a copious 
 analysis, with excerpts, of an immense range of authors, including 
 Ctesias, a physician of Cnidus, about 400 B. c, who spent much time in 
 the East, and wrote upon Indian and Persian affairs. More than one 
 edition of the Bibliotheca, with Latin versions, appeared in the 17th 
 century. Swift's account of the extract is strictly correct ; and 
 Ctesias, as he says, seems to ascribe the bitterness (m/cpSrris) of the 
 flesh to the presence of a gall (x«X^). Swift must either have had a 
 memory strangely stocked, or must have verified each quotation at 
 the time of writing. ■ 
 
 125, 1. 3. See Herodotus, Bk. IV. ch. 129. It was the Persians 
 who were helped by the asses to rout the Scythian cavalry. 
 
 1. 9. our Scythian ancestors. This refers to a story then com- 
 monly received, that a Scythian horde at one time invaded and 
 
notes, pp. 121-127. 393 
 
 peopled a part of Britain. Milton, in his early Vacation Exercise, 
 speaks of ' Humber loud that keeps the Scythian name,' in allusion 
 to a story referred to by Spenser, and by Drayton in the Polyolbion, 
 of a Scythian King Humber, who gave his name to the river. The 
 story of the Scythian invasion (Scythian being the name applied to the 
 inhabitants of Northern Asia) is given also by Sir William Temple in 
 his Introduction to the History of England (Works, vol. iv. p. 508). 
 
 1. 15. Diodorus. I cannot trace the reference ; and it seems 
 unlikely that if it existed it should have escaped the knowledge of 
 Professor Munro, who, in his note to the passage quoted from Lucre- 
 tius (vi. 786), cites similar references in Plutarch and Dicaearchus, but 
 says nothing of Diodorus. The marginal note in the original edition 
 has only ' Lib.' Swift probably trusted to his memory, intending 
 subsequently to verify the quotation and fill in the number of the 
 Book, and then forgot to do so. After the MS. was in the printer's 
 hands, he cared no more about it. 
 
 1. 21. ' There is, too, in Helicon's mighty mountains a tree that 
 is wont to kill men by its blossom's evil smell.' 
 
 1. 32. Again, the description of the serpent is exactly that of 
 Ctesias, so that we are forced to conclude that Swift helped his 
 memory by a special reference to the Book. The repeated instances 
 of the same kind seem to prove that the Tale must have been written 
 when Swift had constant access to a library of some size. 
 
 126, 1. 18. one quality in common with an alderman. Because the 
 alderman is elected for life. 
 
 1. 23. though taken but in the seed— just as when it is applied in 
 the form of the hangman's rope. 
 
 1. 27. Malevolus is the epithet which Terence repeatedly applies, 
 in his Prologues, to his adverse critics. 
 
 1. 30. like Themistocles and his company. The retort of Themis- 
 tocles to those who found him, as a boy, deficient in accomplishments — 
 ' I cannot tune a lute or play upon the harp, but I can make a small 
 and obscure state great and glorious' — is given by Plutarch in his 
 Life of Themistocles. 
 
 127. 1. 6. the tailor's hell. See p. 110, 1. 27 (note). 
 
 1. 8. at least as many, with reference to the old adage that it 
 takes nine tailors to make one man. 
 
 1. 14. free of the critic's company. Swift uses the word free in the 
 sense in which it is applied to one placed in possession of the privi- 
 leges of a corporation. Burnet in his History of his own Times 
 speaks of the Earl of Argyle as ' free of all scandalous vices.' ' As a 
 man,' says Swift's MS. note, ' is free of a corporation, he means.' 
 
 1. 23. A certain author. The note shews that the sarcasm is 
 
394 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 directed against what Swift thought was the pedantic manner in 
 which Bentley gave his quotations. The sentence helps us to decide 
 when this passage was written. Bentley's Dissertation was first pub- 
 lished as an Appendix to the second edition of "Wotton's Reflections 
 on Ancient and Modem Learning in 1697. This was answered by 
 the Christ Church coterie : and then the Dissertation was issued in a 
 separate and more complete form in 1699. But Swift clearly has in 
 view the edition of 1697, in which the citations are almost uniformly 
 given with chapter and verse, which is scarcely ever done in the 
 more complete edition of 1699. ' 
 
 1. 31. sine mercurio, without the coating of quicksilver, employed 
 in making mirrors of glass. 
 
 128,1.7. deducible from these. The earliest editions have dedudble 
 to. Scott has altered this to ' reducible to.' The word reducible is not 
 applicable here (see its use on p. 142, 1. 2) ; and although the pre- 
 position from is more correct and more in accordance with modern 
 usage, I am by no means certain that Swift may not have written ' to.' 
 Irregularities of this kind are quite consistent with his style. ' Deduce ' 
 on 1. 24 of the next page has no sense of tracing by deduction, but 
 merely means to trace in detail. 
 
 129, 1. 15. In this very cheap sarcasm on the Roman Catholic 
 Church, Swift falls as much below the usual sincerity, as below the 
 usual breadth, of his satire. Any sarcasm based upon the adoption 
 of certain formal methods of address applies equally to all Churches 
 which recognise a graded hierarchy, and are established by law. 
 The Episcopal Church of England was as much, or as little, open to 
 the sarcasm as that of Rome : and Swift, of all men, was least dis- 
 posed to bate any of the privileges of the clergy. 
 
 1. 18. fonde. Foundation, or stock-in-trade. Swift preserves, in 
 the final e, a form which was obsolete in the French even of his own 
 day, although found in older French. 
 
 1. 22. bear great . . . practice is an unusual phrase. Practices is 
 used in the same sense of 'general acceptation,' on p. 118, 1. 12. It 
 is different from the modern use of the word, for a course of action 
 which has, by means of such general acceptation, become habitual. 
 
 1. 33. academies abroad, especially those of France and Italy. 
 Among the academies of Belles Lettres, those of Italy were the earliest 
 and the most numerous. They began as early as the 16th century, 
 and the most famous was the Accademia delta Crusca. The French 
 Academy was established in 1635." 
 
 130, 1. 7. emolument. See p. 118, 1. 32 (note). 
 
 1. 9. This refers to the well-known grants, by the Pope, of newly 
 ' discovered territories, the power to enforce which depended entirely 
 
NOTES, pp. 127-133. 395 
 
 upon the recipient. Bentley identifies this unknown continent with 
 Purgatory : but it is difficult to see the appositeness of the 
 identification. 
 
 y 1. 19. The second project. By this Swift clearly intends ascetic 
 practices, combined with the formal absolution granted by the priest. 
 
 1. 37. a whispering office =the confessional. 
 
 1. 30. repeating poets = poets that insist upon reading their poetry 
 aloud in order to obtain criticism and patronage. 
 
 181, 1. 5. Another very beneficial object. This is the Papal grant of 
 indulgences. All the objects mentioned in the following lines are 
 either specially exposed to heat, or (like volumes of poetry) subject 
 to be committed to the flames ; except shadows and rivers which are 
 above all things independent of it. The meaning seems to be that 
 those who are especially prone to sin, and those whose habit of life 
 especially secures them from the temptations of the appetites, are the 
 most likely recipients of indulgences. 
 
 1. 9. friendly societies. I can trace no earlier use of this phrase to 
 describe, as it is apparently intended here to do, societies of mutual 
 insurance. Some such societies were in existence before the end of 
 the 17th century, but this name seems to have been, at least, unusual. 
 
 1. 11. undertakers : as we should now say, ' promoters.' 
 
 1. 13. puppets and raree-shows: meaningless and fanciful cere- 
 monies. 
 
 1. 18. his famous universal pickle. Wotton, followed by later 
 editors, interprets as ' holy water.' It probably refers equally to the 
 more general powers claimed by the Papal see, including that of 
 canonization. 
 
 I. 30. pimperlimpimp. This word seems to be purely fanciful, 
 and is perhaps capriciously compounded oipiment (for all-spice) and 
 pimpernel (the wild flower). 
 
 132, 1. 6. a certain set of bulls. This pun upon the Papal Bulls 
 scarcely requires explanation. 
 
 > 1. 22. common lead. This refers to the leaden seals appended to 
 the Papal Bulls. The Imperial Bulla was of gold. 
 
 II. 22 and 26. terrible roaring . . . breathing out fire. This popular 
 fancy is not unfamiliar to those who remember the agitation against 
 the Catholic Ecclesiastical Titles, early in the present reign. 
 
 11. 32 and 34. The quotations come from the opening lines of 
 the Ars Poetica, describing the ill-judged efforts of a painter who 
 should .'clothe with various feathers' limbs brought together at 
 random, and so contrive that a woman, fair to view above, ' should end 
 in an ugly fish.' 
 
 133, 1. l. fishes' tails. Alluding to the expression with which the 
 
396 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Papal Bulls concluded, ' sub signo piscatoris.' They were sealed with 
 the annulus piscatoris, representing St. Peter as a fisherman in a boat. 
 
 1. 4. naughty boys. The temporal sovereigns, who opposed Papal 
 pretensions. 
 
 1. M. coil. A tumult, as in Shakespeare Tempest, Act i. sc. 2, 
 and Midsummer Night's Dream, Act iii. sc. u. 
 
 I. 13 pulveris exigui jactu, 'by the throwing of a little dust,' 
 which composes the dire struggles of the bees (Virgil, Georg. iv. 87). 
 
 1. 21. bull-beggars. Dr. Ayliffe, a younger contemporary of 
 
 Swift, who wrote some years after on the Canon Law, distinctly 
 
 asserts this etymology for a word then in common use, which occurs, 
 
 -v in the sense of a bug-bear or bogie, in the Tatter, No. 212. 
 
 ^~~~^J. 23. English bull-dogs. Swift claims for England the chief 
 
 honours of the Reformation. 
 
 1. 25. one more of Lord Peter's projects. This is probably rightly 
 interpreted by Wotton as absolution in arliculo mortis. 
 
 134, 1, 6. In the Tatter, No. 25, Steele compares this greeting with 
 the style of a challenge to a duel. 
 
 1. 9. most humble man's man. The papal subscription ' seriius 
 servorum? 
 
 1. 17. vere adepti. See p. 105, 1. 29 (note). Cf. also Hudibras, 
 Part I. c. i. 1. 546 
 
 < ' In Rosy-crucian lore as learned 
 
 As he that vere adeptus earned.' 
 
 1. 18. to form. Cf. p. 98, 1. 6 (note). 
 
 1. 20. brevity sake. The sign of the possessive is dropped for 
 euphony's sake. 
 
 in the operation =in putting them in practice. 
 
 1. 22. ' innuendo is used by Swift in the sense of a hint or re- 
 minder, rather than in the modern sense of a meaning conveyed by 
 implication, but not openly expressed, Cf. p. 166, 1. 11. 
 
 135, 1. 16. three old high-crowned hats. The triple tiara of the Pope. 
 The rest of the sentence refers, of course, to the keys of St. Peter, 
 and the fisher's ring. These, and the very obvious allusions which 
 follow, shew us Swift's humour descending into burlesque. The con- 
 trast between such fooling and the more true and wide-reaching 
 humour of the rest of the book, is striking enough. 
 
 1. 18. boutade, a humorous sally, a practical joke. Another in- 
 ,,v stance of Swift's fondness for French words. 
 
 \^1. 19. The following lines, it is scarcely necessary to say, are 
 intended to represent the celibate rules of the Catholic clergy, the 
 refusal of the Communion in both kinds, and the doctrine of Tran- 
 substantiation. That Swift's humour should show some coarseness 
 
NOTES, pp. I33-I38. 397 
 
 and apathy towards the feelings of others, need not surprise us : but 
 he rarely sinks to the same level of dulness and commonplace. 
 Those who accept the doctrine will be offended : those who do not, 
 will regret that Swift's genius should have descended to such trifling. 
 It is curious that in the Apology (1709) he resents with some bitter- 
 ness the accusation that he had borrowed from (Villiers) Duke of 
 Buckingham the idea of the burlesque of transubstantiation, and is at 
 needless pains to disprove by dates his indebtedness to any one for an 
 idea which has been part of the baser currency of ridicule from 
 Luther's time till now. The passage occurs in Buckingham's Dialogue 
 between himself and a priest. To prove the absurdity of Transubstan- 
 tiation, the duke maintains that a cork he has just drawn is a horse : 
 and the turns of phrase are sufficiently like Swift's to make the co- 
 incidence remarkable. 
 
 1. 26. It seems probable that there is some special reference in 
 the Alderman and his saying : but it would be difficult to point out 
 any phase in the controversies as to the Real Presence which Swift 
 intends to represent. 
 
 186,1.34. Take me along with you. Let me share your joke. 
 137, 1. 8. Leadenhall market. This market was in Swift's time used 
 by the butchers as well as the poulterers. Its speciality was not, 
 however, mutton, according to Gay, in the Trivia — 
 
 'Shall the large mutton smoke upon your boards? 
 Such Newgate's copious market best affords. 
 Would'st thou with mighty beef augment thy meal ? 
 Seek Leadenhall: St. James's sends thee veal.' 
 1S8, 1. 3. great and famous rupture. The Reformation. 
 
 1. 7. very lewdly given, inclined to foolish and ignorant talk. 
 
 1. 14. This refers to the miraculous multiplication of the Virgin's 
 milk, under the allegory of a cow which gave as much milk as would 
 fill three thousand churches. (Wotton.) 
 
 1. 17. an old sign-post. This no doubt means the fragments 
 which claimed to belong to the true Cross. Swift forgot that, how- 
 ever he might intend to aim his sarcasm only at monkish fictions, his 
 was a humour to which a wider and more offensive scope would 
 certainly be attributed by most readers. 
 
 1. 19. Chinese waggons. Swift has exaggerated the travellers' tales 
 of the wicker waggons carried across the plains of China by sails, by 
 adding the touch as to crossing the mountains. Cf. Paradise Lost, 
 
 iii. 437 
 
 'The barren plains 
 
 Of Sericana, where Chineses drive 
 
 With sails and wind their cany wagons light.' 
 
398 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1.22. a large house of lime and stone travel. The legend described 
 how the Casa Santa of the Virgin in the church at Loretto in Italy 
 had, in 1291, after the depredations of the Saracens, been transported 
 from Nazareth to Italy. Cowley refers to the legend in his Ode on 
 the Death of Mr. Crashaw ; ' Angels, they say, brought the famed 
 chapel there.' 
 
 189, 1. 5. took a copia vera. The translation of the Scriptures. Cf. 
 p. 118, 1. 21 (note).. Copia, in the sense of a copy or version, is late 
 Latin. The transfer of meaning is easy to account for, as copies in- 
 crease the number of the thing copied. 
 
 1. 23. clutter, a confusion of noise and quarrelling, — a word used 
 by L'Estrange and by Swift himself elsewhere, as in a short poem 
 on the Irish Bishops — 
 
 ' What a clutter with clippings, dividings, and cleavings.' 
 with u file of dragoons, i. c. invoking the aid of the civil 
 power to put down heresy. 
 
 140, 1. 4. ' Persuades me to endure any toil whatever, and makes me 
 ready to spend the still nights in watching.' The quotation is from 
 Lucretius, Bk. i. v. 143. 
 
 1. 23. he receives. The pronoun refers to mankind, as an individual 
 personality. Cf. p. 168, 1. 24. 
 
 1. 25. Fastidiosity is certainly not used by Swift in the sense of 
 careful or discriminating selection, but of overfondness for fantastic 
 conceits. Amorphy (a word which Swift seems to form for himself 
 on the model of Atrophy) is the ' formlessness ' and singularity of 
 style upon which the moderns prided themselves. Oscitation (used 
 in the form oscitancy on p. 190, 1. 14) is yawning or dulness. Observe 
 the characteristic sequence of the satire. These three faults are best 
 dealt with by diversion (i. e. ridicule). We expect the next sentence 
 to show that instruction would not touch them. Swift purposely disap- 
 points our expectation : he does not urge the uselessness of instruction, 
 but its superfluity in an age of such wit and learning as the present 
 
 1. 29. / have attempted carrying. Observe the participle where 
 we should naturally use the infinitive • attempted to carry.' Cf. 
 exactly the opposite usage in p. 93, 1. 6 (note). 
 
 1. 32. utile . . . dulce. The reference, of course, is to Horace's line, 
 ' Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulcft' 
 141, 1. 2. to a degree that. The natural phrase would be ' to such a 
 degree, that.' Swift is again elliptical. 
 
 1. 3. Whether there have been ever any ancients or no, refers, of 
 course, to the arguments by which Bentley proved that no such 
 . author as Phalaris ever existed (see prefatory note to The Battle 
 of the Books). 
 
NOTES, pp. 138-142. 399 
 
 1. 12. O Brazile. This was a name for a supposed island, painted 
 by the sea-mist upon a superstitious imagination, which was said to 
 be visible at times to the Irish from the Isle of Arran. It here stands 
 for an earlier Laputa. 
 
 1. 17. undertaker. See p. 131, 1. n (note). 
 
 1. 21. in balneo Marice. This is the name used in the late Latin 
 of the Alchemists, for the vessel used in laboratories to produce heat, 
 without the direct application of fire, but through the medium of 
 water. It was said to be the invention of the Jewess Maria, to 
 whom many of the chemical discoveries of Alchemy were due. 
 Here it probably means ' gentle heat.' The word Bainmarie is still, 
 I understand, familiar in our kitchens. 
 
 Q. S. = quantum sufficit, to a sufficient quantity. 
 
 I. 22. Lethe, the river of Hades, which represents forgetfulness. 
 
 II. 23, 24. sordes, the scum, caput mortuum, the stagnant froth. 
 1. 27. hermetically, i. e. after the manner usual in the Hermetic 
 
 Science (Chemistry). It is so named from the identification of 
 Thoth (who represented the god of Science in the Egyptian 
 mythology) with Hermes, by the Neo-platonists of Alexandria. 
 
 1. 28. Catholic, i. e. of universal range. 
 
 1. 34. medullas. Treatises containing the pith and marrow of a 
 subject. 
 
 142, 1. 1. florilegas. Following the analogy of sacrilegium and 
 spicilegium, the more correct word would be florilegia, and we find a 
 book on gardening, before Swift's day, called florilegium. But the 
 original edition has florilega. 
 
 1. 4. impar, too weak for the task, as in impar congressus Achilli. 
 
 1. 11. a complete body of all knowledge. Xenophon's words are : 
 6 "Ofnjpos 6 ao(p6jTa.Tos TreiroiTjice ffx*$oj/ irepl TravTaiv rthv dvBpomivwv. 
 As usual, Swift quotes from the Latin version. By the quotation he 
 really means to satirize the pedantry of interpreting words in their 
 literal rather than their natural sense. Xenophon's words are 
 intended, of course, to express the wide human sympathy that runs 
 through the Homeric poems. Swift satirizes the pedants (having 
 Wotton and Bentley in his eye) by taking this in a literal sense, as 
 if these poems were an encyclopaedia of information. This gave him 
 just the opportunity he wished, for turning the enemy's flank at a 
 point where his own side of the controversy was weakest. Some 
 of the advocates of the Ancients — Temple amongst others — had made 
 the absurd mistake of challenging comparison in the sphere of 
 scientific discoveries and inventions. Swift knew how foolish such 
 an argument was : and this passage is devoted to laughing out 
 of court the ponderous pedantry with which Wotton had met the 
 
400 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 argument by an elaborate discursus upon all the sciences. The 
 references to Homer are a parody of several passages in Wotton's 
 Reflections; that, for instance, in which Wotton reproduces an 
 extract from a mathematician of his acquaintance, of high repute as 
 the friend of Newton and Bentley, Mr. John Craig, who writes : ' If 
 we take a short view of the Geometry of the Ancients, it appears that 
 they considered no lines except straight lines, the circle and the 
 conic sections. As for the spiral, the quadratrix, the conchoid, the 
 cissoid, and a few others, they made little account of them,' &c. &c. 
 Wotton gravely introduces absurdities like this, as well as the facts 
 that the Ancients did not invent telescopes and pendulum clocks, and 
 did not even know how to make cyder as well as Evelyn would 
 have taught them in his Pomona (cf. ' What can be more defective 
 than Homer's dissertation upon tea ? ' p. 148, 1. 21) — as relevant to 
 the literary discussion upon the comparative value of classical and 
 modern literature. Unfortunately Temple had led the way. But 
 Swift's vision was too clear for such an error. In these two pages 
 he dismisses it once for all, as ludicrously irrelevant ' And if you 
 insist on bringing in, as an element in the comparison, your boasted 
 scientific achievements, take them,' he seems to say, ' for what they 
 are worth — a bundle of whims and fancies taught you by Alchemists 
 and Rosicrucian mystics, and a string of mechanical contrivances, 
 represented by — a save-all ! ' 
 
 1. 14. For, first of all, as eminent, &c. The punctuation, which 
 is that of the earliest edition, would seem to shew that for is here 
 a preposition, and not a conjunction, and that the sentence might 
 run, 'First of all, for as eminent a cabalist,' &c. . If this is not so, 
 then the first for has caused the omission of a second, which is 
 required by the grammar. 
 
 cabalist. The Kabala, or Kabbala, is the body of mysticism 
 growing out of the traditional Judaic interpretation of the Scriptures. 
 Alchemy, which is based upon the same type of ideas, represents the 
 physical side of this mystic philosophy, or so, at least, it was 
 assumed to be by Swift. The opus magnum, in the next line, is the 
 mighty experiment to which all the Alchemists' aims were directed. 
 See p. 179, 1. 24. 
 
 1. 17. Sendivogitis, Behmen, or Anthroposophia. Cf. Hudibras 
 Part I, c. i. 1. 541 
 
 ' He Anthroposophus, and Floud, 
 And Jacob Behmen understood.' 
 
 Sendivogius was a Polish Alchemist, who had written, some 100 
 years before, on the philosopher's stone. Behmen, or Bohme, was 
 a German visionary and enthusiast who, about the same time, wrote 
 
NOTES, pp. 142-144. 401 
 
 a book called Aurora, embodying some of the chemical notions of the 
 day. He was suspected of witchcraft. The Anthroposophia 
 Theomagica was a treatise, written in 1650, by Thomas Vaughan, 
 Rector of St. Bridget, near Brecknock. It was a rechauffe of 
 Alchemist doctrines, and involved him in a controversy with Henry 
 More. See also p. 180, 1. 1 (note). The note quoted at this passage 
 in Scott's edition as ' original,' is not so, and is indeed entirely the 
 reverse of what Swift would write. 
 
 1. 18. sphcera pyroplastica. The Alchemist's furnace, in which 
 the chemical elements were believed to be transformed by fire. 
 
 1. si. vix crederem, &c. ' I would scarcely believe that this 
 author ever heard the voice of fire.' Fire was, according to the 
 doctrine of the Alchemists, the vital principle : as Paracelsus says, 
 vita ignis, corpus lignum. 
 
 1. 25. A save-all is a pan or clip inserted into candlesticks to 
 save the ends of candles. Here it no doubt stands for any modern 
 utensil of infinitesimal importance. 
 
 1. 28. tax . . . with. Cf.,p. 124, 1. 23. 
 
 1. 33. Mr. Wotton. See prefatory note to the Battle of the Books, 
 and note to p. 198, 1. 1. 
 
 143, 1. 4. the subject of flies and spittle. Referring to Wotton's 
 laborious comparisons of the achievements of the Ancients and 
 the Moderns, in Physiology and Natural History. Both the subjects 
 named by Swift are dealt with under these heads by Wotton. 
 
 1. 7. liftings, borrowed from the language usual with the 
 religious enthusiast. 
 
 1. 33. These titles are not to be too exactly identified, but are 
 typical of the literary fussiness of the day, and of the whimsical 
 schemes of the projectors. 
 
 144, 1. 15. For my own particular = for myself in particular. Cf. 
 Shakespeare, King Lear, Act ii. sc. 4 
 
 ' For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, 
 But not one follower.' 
 1. 18. directs zV=prevails. The 'it' is entirely impersonal and 
 general, and does not refer to any definite object. The use is 
 frequent in Shakespeare, e.g. 
 
 'To revel it with him and his new bride,' 
 
 3 Hen. VI, Act iii. sc. 3, 
 and 
 
 ' Lord Angelo dukes it well.' 
 
 Measure for Measure, Act iii. sc. a. 
 It is found also in Pope's 
 
 ' Whether the charmer sinner .it or saint it.' 
 VOL. I. D d 
 
403 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 32. attending =waiting, like the use of the French attendre. 
 There is evidently an intentional jingle between the urging and 
 attending here, and the moving and standing in the next line. 
 
 145, I. 3. great Dryden : the sarcastic epithet is another instance of 
 Swift's untiring hostility to Dryden. 
 
 1. 15. Stint is a limit or measure : a fixed allowance or task. 
 Swift speaks of his allowance of wine — ' My stint in company is a 
 pint at noon.' 
 
 1. 17. proceed critics and wits. Cf. p. 115, 1. 28 (note). 
 
 146, 1. 11. to drop suddenly off. Observe the awkward ending 
 with a preposition — a fault which is so frequent with Swift as to be 
 his almost invariable habit, where there is an opportunity. Cf. 1. 4 
 on this page, and p. 136, 1. 16; p. 142, 1. 28; and p. 143, 1. 29. 
 innumerable other instances might be cited. 
 
 1. 20. my character of an historian (which requires me) to follow. 
 Observe the characteristic ellipse. Character is used in the theatrical 
 sense, as a role which imposes on him a certain duty. 
 
 147, 1. 3- the two brothers . . . duly comparing . . . there never was. 
 Observe the broken construction. Cf. p. 116, 1. 21. 
 
 1. 13. Martin (from Martin Luther) is the name which represents 
 the moderate reform of the English Church. Jack (from John Calvin), 
 stands for the fanatical enthusiasts, dissenters, and Presbyterians. 
 Swift, in the Apology, refers to the charge of having borrowed these 
 names from (Villiers) Duke of Buckingham, without much concern. 
 The words of Buckingham are : ' men found no advantage in with- 
 drawing from Father Peter to Father Martin and Father John.' 
 The original suggestion certainly shews no such striking wit as 
 to be worth a quarrel about its ownership. 
 
 1. 32. as an argument unanswerable for our great wit, i. e. as an 
 unanswerable argument that our wit is great. Cf. p. 175, 1. 4. 
 
 in method=ha.d I proceeded strictly according to method. 
 148, 1. 8. only those tagged with silver, i. c. only those which involved 
 some pecuniary advantage. 
 
 1. 28. picked up. ' Picked out ' would seem better suited to the 
 sense. On p. 150, 1. 18, we have up in exactly the opposite sense. 
 
 149, 1. 4. Strengthen a flaw does not mean, as it very well might, 
 ' add to,' or ' increase,' the flaw, but ' strengthen the place weakened 
 by' the flaw. 
 
 1. 8. which, i. e. the preservation of the stuff from injury. The 
 antecedent is only to be drawn by implication from the preceding 
 clause. 
 
 1. 20. this medley of humour, composed of hatred and spite, and 
 in a small degree, of regard for purity of doctrine. 
 
NOTES, pp. 144-152. 403 
 
 150, 1. 9. by consequence (being) in a delicate temper. The whole 
 passage is typical of Swift's dramatic style, and is therefore purposely 
 elliptical and defiant of rule. 
 
 1. 26. kennel, the water-course or gutter in a street, connected 
 
 with canal. Quite a different word from kennel, a dog-house {cants). 
 
 The notes in Scott's edition suppose, throughout this passage, a 
 
 special reference to Scotland. It refers really to the ultra-reformers 
 
 generally, the Scotch being noted on p. 152, 1. 28, as one variety. 
 
 151, 1. 11. penal, in the rather unusual sense of imposing penalties, 
 rather than involving them. 
 
 1. 13. Dispensable is here exactly equivalent to permissible. The 
 usage is undoubtedly incorrect^ and almost absurd. The strict mean- 
 ing would be ' if straining a point were something that could be 
 dispensed with or avoided '—the very opposite of what Swift means. 
 
 1. 14. rather to, i. c. rather (if it led) to. 
 
 1. 17. of, where modern usage would prescribe 'on.' 
 152, 1. 2. Garnish was the money extorted from a fresh prisoner by 
 way of blackmail. We hear of it frequently in the novels of last 
 century. 
 
 1. 3. Exchange women. These were the women who kept the 
 shops round both the Exchanges. Defoe {Complete English Trades- 
 man, ch. 51) speaks of ' the two great centres of the women mer- 
 chants : I mean the Exchange shops, particularly at the Royal 
 Exchange, and the New Exchange in the Strand.' 
 
 1. 12. fox's arguments. The arguments by which the fox that 
 had lost his tail tried to persuade his comrades to become as himself. 
 
 I. 16. million of scurrilities. The phrase is repeated from p. 139, 
 1. 25. Cf. also p. 150, 1. 23. Each age has its own fashion of ex- 
 aggeration, and ours seems to have dropt from Swift's habitual 
 millions into thousands, and even hundreds. 
 
 1. 22. whimsey (used also on p. 54, 1. 6) seems to have given 
 place, in modern usage, to whim : but it is still preserved in the 
 adjective whimsical. 
 
 1. 26. The humour of these nicknames is not striking. Jack the 
 Bald {calvus) is Calvin ; Jack with a lantern represents the enthusiast 
 with his inward light. Cf. Hudibras, Part I, Cant. i. 1. 505 
 "Tis a dark lantern of the spirit, 
 Which none see by but those that bear it.' 
 Dutch Jack is the Anabaptists, represented by John of Leyden : 
 French Hugh stands for the Huguenots : Tom the beggar for Les 
 Gueux — the Ragamuffins — the name applied to the Flemish Hu- 
 guenots : and Knocking Jack of the north for John Knox and the 
 Scotch Presbyterians. 
 
 D d 2 
 
404 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 31. epidemic. Widespread. Cf. p. 140, 1. 25. 
 
 I. 32. jEolists. The disciples of the god of winds — wind-bags. 
 153, 1. 3. ' Touching all with honeyed grace.' Swift intends to quote 
 from Lucretius (i. 934). But Lucretius writes Musaeo (the charm of 
 the Muses), and Swift substitutes melleo, and makes the second 
 syllable long to suit the scansion ! 
 
 1. 5. Iliad in a nutshell. The story of an Iliad written in 
 characters so small that it could be packed in a nutshell is given by 
 Pliny, Natur. Hist. Book III, ch. 21, ' In nuce inclusam Iliada Homeri 
 carmen in membrana scriptum tradit Cicero. 1 The allusion is not 
 found in any of the extant works of Cicero. The elder Scaliger 
 refers to the passage in Pliny in his book De Subtilitate, which Swift 
 seems to have read. Cf. p. 189, 1. 31 (note). 
 
 1. 16. olio, a Spanish stew of mixed meats : fricassee, a dish of 
 fowls, chopped small, and fried: ragout, a highly-seasoned stew, 
 to tickle the palate (lit. to restore the taste— gout). The intro- 
 duction of these foreign dishes was within the memory of Swift's 
 generation. 
 
 154, 1. 8. expatiating from = enlarging your range beyond. The 
 modern usage has ' expatiating upon ' = treating the subject at great 
 length. Cf. p. 96, 1. 13, and p. 207, 1. 26. 
 
 1. 12. maintains itself. Observe the change in number in the next 
 line, 'they send.' 
 
 1. 27. the index. Cf. Pope, Dunciad, i. 279 ' How index- 
 learning turns no student pale.' Swift doubtless has Bentley in view 
 in this passage. It was the fashion with the Christ Church wits to 
 stigmatise Bentley's scholarship, which they could not appreciate, 
 much less emulate, as ' index-learning.' This taunt occurs repeatedly 
 in the reply to Bentley's Dissertation, published in 1698 under the 
 name of Charles Boyle, but really the work of Atterbury and the 
 circle who ranged themselves against Bentley and Wotton. 
 
 1. 34. by throwing. Observe the variety in the idiom in next 
 line, ' with flinging? 
 
 155, 1. 3. the wise maris rule. The rule of Solon, given to Croesus. 
 (Herod, i. 29). Or else with reference to Psalm xxxvii. 37, 
 ' Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright : for the end of that 
 man is peace.' 
 
 1. 4. like Hercules' oxen. Cf. p. 121, 1. 29. To conceal the place 
 where the oxen were hidden, Cacus drew them backward into his 
 den, so that the footprints appeared as if they had issued thence. 
 Cf. Hudibras, Part II. Cant. i. 1. 429 
 
 ' 'Tis like that sturdy thief that stole 
 And dragged beasts backward into his hole.' 
 
NOTES, pp. 153-159. 405 
 
 1. 21. there is not a sufficient quantity of new matter left. Wotton 
 gravely predicts that the number of learned men of the age is so 
 great ' that the next age will not find much of the kind to do.' 
 
 1. 31. booked in alphabet, catalogued according to their alphabetical 
 sequence. 
 
 156, 1. j.. The arrangement of the clauses is curious. 'By some 
 called,' &c, would naturally follow ' observandas.' 
 
 sieves and boulters. Instruments of the same sort, for sepa- 
 rating the finer part of a substance from the coarser. The boulter 
 seems specially confined to such an instrument, used for separating 
 the bran from the meal. 
 
 1. 4. The pearls remained while the dust and small particles 
 passed through : but the meal passed through while the worthless 
 bran remained. 
 
 1. 9. common-place book. Cf. p. 96, 1. 22. 
 
 1. 18. bound to everlasting chains. Referring to the chains by 
 which books were attached in the older libraries. 
 
 1. 22. these allowances. See above, 11. 8-13. 
 
 I. 24. listed under so many thousand heads. This seems to refer 
 to 1. 30 of the previous page. ' Listed ' is the same as ' booked in 
 alphabet.' Swift uses the word as = enlisted, on p. 192, 1. 20, and 
 p. 72, 1. 9. 
 
 1. 32. our Scythian ancestors. Cf. p. 125, 1. 9 (note). 
 
 157, 1. 4. See chap. 31 of the 4th Book of Herodotus, who con- 
 jectures that the story of the feathers is derived from the appearance 
 of falling snow. 
 
 1. 12. jEolists. Resumed from p. 152, 1. 32. 
 
 1. 17. ' Which fate may guiding fortune turn far from us.' Lucr. 
 Bk. v. 1. 108. The same quotation is used on p. 65, 1. 27. 
 
 1. 18. adepti. The disciples of the Cabalist or Rosicrucian 
 mysteries. Cf. p. 105, 1. 29, and p. 134, 1. 17 (note). 
 
 158, 1. 15. quartum principium. Cf. p. 98, 1. 33 (note). 
 
 1. 17. Bumbastus. The family name of Paracelsus. Cf. Hudibras, 
 Part II. Cant. iii. 1. 627 
 
 ' Bumbastus kept a Devil's bird 
 Shut in the pummel of his sword.' 
 
 1. 33. latria=\aTptia, the worship offered to a deity. 
 159, 1. 1. omnium deorum Boream maxime celebrant. Qewv ovStvbs 
 Bopeav iarepov ayovaiv ks Tipty. Paus. Bk. viii. ch. 36. The Megalo- 
 politans, Pausanias tells us, worshipped the north wind because it 
 saved them from the Lacedaemonians. 
 
 1. 5.- caelum empyraium. The fiery, or fourth, heavenly region, 
 according to the Cabalists. 
 
406 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 7. 2/eoTi'a. The land of darkness, with a play upon the name 
 Scotia. 
 
 1. 14. disploding. Cf. Paradise Lost, vi. 605 
 
 'In posture to displode their second tire 
 Of thunder.' 
 
 1. 26. who travels the east into the west. Following the course of 
 the sun and light. Possibly Swift may also refer to the idea broached 
 by Temple in the Learning of the Ancients, that the source of all 
 knowledge and genius lies in the East. Swift adopts the notion, 
 p. 201, 1. 8. 
 
 1. 30. reflecting. Used, apparently, in a sort of double sense: 
 ' considering ' and ' shining upon.' 
 
 160, 1. 1. like a dead bird of paradise. No bird has had more 
 fabulous tales told of it than this. It was believed to have no feet, 
 and to continue until death in mid air, drawing nourishment from 
 the dews of heaven, whence it was supposed to come. 
 
 1. 26. Moulinavent. The wind-mill, with a reminiscence, prob- 
 ably, of the attack of Don Quixote. 
 
 1. 33. Laplanders. The Lapland witchcraft was celebrated, and 
 a large part of it consisted in trafficking with the winds. Cf. Hudibras, 
 Part II. Cant. ii. 1. 343 
 
 ' And sell their blasts of wind as dear 
 As Lapland witches bottled air.' 
 And Part III. Cant. i. 1. 1133 
 
 ' In which the Lapland Magi deal 
 And things incredible reveal.' 
 See also Spectator, No. 117. 
 
 161, 1. 9. Delphos for Delphi. Temple had already been attacked 
 by Bentley for this unauthorized word : so that Swift erred know- 
 ingly. 
 
 1. 28. intellectuals. Cf. Parad. Lost, Bk. ix. 1. 483, speaking of Adam, 
 ' Whose higher intellectual more I shun.' 
 Also Davenant, Preface to Gondibert, ' heroic poets . . . whose intel- 
 lectuals were of so great a making ... as they will perhaps, in worthy 
 memory, outlast even makers of laws.' 
 
 162, 1. 5. persons, whose natural reason hath admitted great revolu- 
 tions, whose common sense has been utterly upset So Peter's 
 brain ' began to turn round for a little ease,' p. 134, 1. 32. Cf. p. 181, 
 1. 17, for the same use of 'revolution.' The whole of this passage 
 curiously recalls that on the effects of ' inspired madness ' in Plato's 
 Phaedrus, 244 seq. 
 
 1. 9. individual in = inseparable from. Cf. Parad. Lost, Bk. iv. 
 1. 486. 
 
NOTES, pp. 159-164. 407 
 
 ' To have thee by my side 
 Henceforth, an individual solace dear.' 
 And Bk. v. 1. 610 
 
 ' United as one individual soul ' ; 
 and Milton's Ode on Time, 1. 12 
 
 'With an individual kiss.' 
 
 1. 28. overspread by vapours, ascending from the lower faculties. 
 Swift has in his mind Hudibras, Part II. Cant. iii. 1. 773, where Butler 
 speaks of the vapour which 
 
 ' If it upward chance to fly 
 Becomes new light and prophecy.' 
 
 1. 31. original, again, as several times before = origin. 
 
 163, 1. 1. A certain great prince. The note in Scott's edition, 
 following that in an earlier reprint, identifies the prince with 
 Henry IV of France, and the state-surgeon (1. 14) with Ravaillac, 
 his assassin. But we may doubt whether any special reference is 
 intended. 
 
 1. 18. only = except. This use has now sunk into a vulgar 
 colloquialism. 
 
 1. 22. at a gaze. Usually the phrase is ' at gaze.' But we find 
 a verb (now obsolete) agaze=to frighten. In a-gape the ais = 'on.' 
 But the similarity of sound in this, and in the phrase ' set them 
 a-gazing ' may have led to the occasional introduction of the indefinite 
 article. 
 
 1. 26. This paragraph, again, may refer, as is thought, to Louis 
 XIV. But it is unnecessary to identify the reference too closely. 
 
 1. 31. dragoon. This may well refer to the celebrated dragon- 
 nades against the Protestants, under Louis XIV. Cf. p. 139, 1. 23. 
 
 164, 1. 12. agreed (to be) impossible. Another of the ellipses so 
 frequent in Swift. 
 
 1. 17. mistaken . . . to have been. We should now say 'mistaken 
 for.' But Swift uses exactly the same construction with the com- 
 pound verb ' mistaken ' as we should use with the simple verb 
 ' taken.' 
 
 1. 25. The eccentricity of Epicurus (b. c. 342-270) was the subject 
 of various stories, which are now believed to have been libels. 
 Diogenes (b. c. 412-323) was proverbial for his contempt for the 
 ordinary rules of conduct. Apollonius, who lived about the begin- 
 ning of the Christian era, was, similarly, credited with magic power, 
 and singularity of dress and conduct. Lucretius (b. c. 95-5 1 ) was 
 believed to have been driven mad by a love potion ; while Paracelsus 
 was a compound of erratic knavery with astuteness, and Descartes 
 had a well-grounded reputation for eccentricity. 
 
L 
 
 408 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 29. phlebotomy, blood-letting. 
 
 1. 33. to the same length ... of his own. The two admissible 
 constructions are ' the same length ... as his own ' and ' the length 
 of his own.' Swift mixes both. 
 
 165, 1. 3. justlings. The more common form now is 'jostlings'; 
 but Swift has the authority of the Authorized Version for justlings. 
 
 1. 5. by certain clinamina. Swift borrows clinamina from Lu- 
 cretius. But curiously Lucretius uses the word to express just the 
 opposite of a tendency to universal agreement. According to him it 
 is the clinamen principiorum which enables the mind to have a certain 
 freedom from forced conclusions. 
 
 1. 9. romantic= imaginary. 
 
 1. 10. vortex. Swift more than once refers to the vortices of 
 Descartes — that part of the Cartesian system which became most 
 popularly known. Here he describes the whole system by the word. 
 Cf. p. 218, I. 5. 
 
 1. 18. fail providing, instead of ' fail to provide.' Swift here uses 
 the participle where we should use the infinitive, just as in p. 83, 1. 34, 
 p. 89, 1. 28, p. 93, 1. 6, and elsewhere, he uses the infinitive where we 
 should use the participle. 
 
 !• 33- °f ih e nicest conduct = requiring the most careful dis- 
 crimination. 
 
 166, 1. 1. Cicero understood this very well, &c. The reference is to 
 two of Cicero's letters to Trebatius, a Roman lawyer residing in 
 Britain. In the first, Cicero gives a friendly caution — ' See that you, 
 who know so well how to manage securities for others, secure your- 
 self against the wiles of the British charioteers {essedae) ' — just as we 
 might caution a friend travelling in Africa against the assegais of the 
 Zulus. In another letter he rallies Trebatius on the recognition of 
 his talents by Caesar, in the words quoted (1. 5) by Swift : ' Think 
 yourself lucky to find yourself where you have got the reputation of 
 some wisdom.' 
 
 1. 11. innuendo. Cf. p. 134, 1. 22 (note). 
 1. 31. emolument. Cf. p. 118, 1. 32 (note). 
 
 167, 1. 1. happily be reduced. So it is in the earliest texts. Scott, 
 following some later editions, prints ' unhappily.' But this misses 
 the point of Swift's sarcasm. Swift would certainly consider that 
 universal acquiescence in authorized dogma with respect to the in- 
 visible would contribute to the ' happiness ' of humanity. But 
 writing on behalf of the madmen, he naturally considers that the 
 attainment of this happiness would be far from desirable from the 
 madmen's point of view, and takes credit to them for preventing it. 
 
 1. 6. To cut the feather seems to be a nautical metaphor, from the 
 
NOTES, pp. 164-169. 409 
 
 prow of a ship cutting a featherlike sprayy-asit moves sharply through 
 the waves. 
 
 1. 10. individuation = distinction. Here in the modern sense quite 
 different from the use of ' individual ' as = inseparable (p. 162, 1. 9). 
 Jack of Leyden. See p. 152, 1. 27 (note). 
 
 1. 11. des Cartes. The editions are not uniform in this peculiar 
 nomenclature : but Swift varies in regard to the name of Descartes. 
 
 1. 14. perpensity. This word is obsolete, although we retain the 
 verb 'perpend.' 
 
 1. 16. The blank is intended to hint the uselessness of philo- 
 sophical explanations, and the small regard paid to them. 
 
 168, 1. 1. that, i. e. his understanding. 
 
 1. 3. when a man's fancy gets astride on his reason. Cf. p. 174, 
 1. 27, for the metaphor reversed. 
 
 1. 10. cant. The peculiar singsong which was supposed to mark 
 the dissenting pulpit, and the state of mind of which it was the 
 type. The word is connected with the French chanter. But see 
 Spectator, No. 147, where a fanciful derivation from the name of Mr. 
 Andrew Cant, a Presbyterian minister in Scotland, is propounded. 
 
 1. 13. take an examination. Like the modern ' take stock of.' 
 
 I. 17. a perpetual possession of being well deceived. Swift must 
 surely have had in his mind the passage in Horace (Ep. ii. 2. 140), 
 where the Argive citizen upbraids his friends, when they had cured 
 him of his madness, and had caused his ' mentis gratissimus error ' to 
 disappear. Cf. Swift's expression of this thought, not in the lightness 
 of irony, but in the bitterness of despair, p. 60, 1. 19. 
 
 1. 24. in his choice. Cf. p. 140, 1. 23 (note) for the same usage. 
 
 1. 27. It would be utterly absurd to suppose that Swift had any 
 idea of advancing a metaphysical theory. B ut we must not conclude 
 that the metaphysical side of Swift's intellect was destroyed, although 
 it was silenced, by his sarcastic vein ; and without entering upon a 
 discussion for which this is not the place, it is impossible to overlook 
 the link that there is between Swift's jest and the theory advanced in 
 earnest by Berkeley, in opposition to the materialism of Locke. 
 Berkeley was Swift's friend : Locke belonged to the party between 
 which and Swift there was a natural cjeavage. 
 
 1. 31. This is one of the passages in which Swift mingles 
 cynicism, sarcasm, and profound melancholy. It is a strange jest, 
 with a far-reaching meaning, — that imagination is the mother of 
 reality, memory its tomb. 
 
 169, 1. 13. has never been allowed fair usage. Another instance of 
 Swift's elliptical style, which gives us a sentence to our ears bearing 
 exactly the opposite meaning of that he intended. The natural gram- 
 
4IO SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 matical meaning of the sentence, now-a-days, would be that the 
 employment of unmasking has never had fair usage accorded to it. 
 Swift's meaning is that the employment is one which has never been 
 held to be a fair one. 
 
 1. 25. the outward of bodies. Cf. Shakespeare, Cymbeline, Act i. 
 sc. 1, 1. 23 
 
 ' I do not think 
 So fair an outward and such stuff within 
 Endows a man but he.' 
 1. 34. reason is in the right, i. e. ill its conclusions. Swift main- 
 tains that it is wrong in searching for such conclusions. 
 
 170, 1. 14. to solder. The older editions have sodder. Milton uses 
 another form, ' To soder up the shifting flaws.' This spelling shews 
 the old pronunciation, which is made more clear by Hudibras, Part I, 
 Cant. ii. 1. 226 
 
 'Replete with strange hermetic powder 
 That wounds point-blank nine miles would solder.' 
 
 171, 1. 5. By which, i.e. the 'vanishing' and the 'stay-at-home' 
 varieties. 
 
 1. 7. and which, i. e. these same varieties. This which does not 
 refer to the two principal branches of madness, otherwise the and 
 would convict Swift of a vile cockneyism. 
 
 1. 15. emolument. Cf. p. 118, 1. 32 (note). 
 
 1. 17. proceeds a hero. Cf. p. 115, 1. 28 (note). 
 
 1. 24. Brutus, the first consul, who feigned madness to save 
 himself from the Tarquinian family. 
 
 1. 28. ingenium par negotiis. Tacitus uses this phrase twice, in 
 each case of men who, with certain qualities unfitting them for public 
 business, yet proved adequate to its discharge. ' Equal, but not more 
 than equal,' he says in one case. Swift evidently had only a vague 
 recollection of the passages, as he uses the phrase of a talent which 
 was specially adapted to public work. 
 
 172, 1. a. The names here given are those of men who were all 
 members of the Tory party, distinguished for the virulence of their 
 attacks upon Somers. Swift has in view the clause which the Tories 
 tacked on to a Land Tax Bill, in order to appoint commissioners to 
 inquire into grants of forfeited Irish estates. This was in 1699, and 
 it would appear, therefore, that this passage was written after that 
 date. John How was especially notorious for the bitterness of his 
 lampoons, and his exaggerated partizanship. 
 
 1. 13. The blank probably should be supplied by ' ecclesiastical ' ; 
 and there is quite as much sarcasm in the scruples which Swift would 
 have us believe that he entertained against printing a word which 
 
NOTES, pp. 169-174. 411 
 
 might savour of irreverence, as there would have been in naming the 
 ecclesiastical along with other posts for which frenzy gave a special 
 qualification. Yet Swift, so far as we can judge, was unconscious 
 that he could give offence to the supporters of the Church ! 
 
 1. 18. that honourable society. At first sight this appears to refer 
 to Bedlam ; but there is no other word which would lead us to fancy 
 that Swift professed to write in the character of a former inmate of 
 the madhouse, unless we suppose the passage on p. 174, 1. 26, to 
 imply this, which it scarcely does. The words would seem rather to 
 refer to the Society of Modern Authors (see p. 139, 1. 30) or wits, for 
 whose special interest it is that all the genius of the age, including 
 what may be contributed by Bedlam, should have free scope. 
 
 1. 25. sound: so in the original edition, although we may con- 
 jecture that it is a misprint for ' round.' 
 
 I. 28. Westminster Hall, where the Law Courts sat until a few 
 years ago. 
 
 1. 31. ecce cornuta erat ejus fades. This is from the Vulgate 
 version of Exodus xxxix. 29. The horn was a symbol of a bright ray 
 of light, indicating some special glory. This is one of the passages 
 specially attacked by Wotton for its irreverence and indecency, as 
 the word is, of course, used by Swift to indicate the domestic reasons 
 for this patient's madness. 
 
 173, 1. 3. at eight o'clock, when the shops closed. Gay, in the 
 Trivia, tells how the closing-hour came with evening, when ' the 
 shop windows falling threat thy head.' 
 
 1. 4. court- customers. Perhaps those who wasted the time, 
 without adding to the gains of the shopkeepers. Cf. Spectator, 
 No. 155. 
 
 1. 5. Privileged places seem to be places to which special market 
 licences were assigned. 
 
 1. 32. the society of Warwick Lane = the College of Physicians, 
 which stood in Warwick Lane, near Newgate Street. 
 
 174, 1. 4. Professor seems to be used with a reference to its em- 
 ployment to signify one who is a burning and shining light of some 
 sect. 
 
 1. 10. Hark in your ear . The blank is to be filled up, of 
 
 course, with a suggestion to place the ' professor ' in some high 
 court station. 
 
 1. 27. Cf. p. 168, 1. 3, for the metaphor reversed. 
 
 1. 31. to vent my speculation in this or the like manner, instead 
 of allowing my imagination to indulge in some more dangerous 
 freak. 
 
 1. 33. which. It is not quite clear what this refers to. Probably 
 
41 a SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 we should take it to stand for ' that these speculations are for the 
 universal benefit of mankind.' 
 
 175, 1. i. will be very hardly persuaded = will be persuaded, if I 
 take sufficient pains about it. 
 
 1. 3. This digression is suggested by the words immediately 
 preceding, about the courtesy of readers. 
 
 1. 4. an unanswerable argument of " very refined age =■ that our 
 age is very refined. Cf. a similar expression on p. 147, 1. 32. 
 
 I.17. Will's Coffee-house, the resort of the wits. Gresham College, 
 the seat of the Royal Society (p. 102, 1. 27). Warwick Lane (see 
 p. 173, 1. 32 note). Moorfields may refer to Grub Street, which was in 
 Moorfields, but more probably to Bethlehem Hospital, the madhouse 
 there. Cf. Gay's epistle to Mr. Thomas Snow, where he seems to 
 have had this passage in his mind — 
 
 'Through famed Moorfields extends a famous seat, 
 Where mortals of exalted wit retreat ; 
 Where, wrapt in contemplation and in straw, 
 The wiser few from the mad world withdraw.' 
 Scotland Yard contained several official residences, and is men- 
 tioned in Wagstafle's Plain Dealer, No. 13, as a place where political 
 gossip was retailed. Westminster Hall, see p. 172, 1. 28. Guildhall, 
 the seat of the City Fathers. 
 
 1. 32. These are almost the words used by Blackmore, in his 
 preface to Prince Arthur (1695). 
 
 176, 1. 18. factious = disordered. 
 
 1' 1. 24. Troglodyte philosopher. The Troglodytes were the races 
 > dwelling in caves, described by some of the ancient historians. The 
 word occurs in Rabelais, but not in the same sense as here. Montes- 
 
 Jquieu uses it in the Lettres Persanes to describe a people with peculiar 
 ideas and customs of their own. Here Swift uses it in the sense 
 of the typical cynic in his tub. 
 ■ 177, 1. 5. Blackmore (at this time Sir Richard Blackmore) had 
 published his Prince Arthur in 1695, and followed it up in 1697 by 
 King Arthur, so that the point of the satire seems to lie in pretending 
 that his second epic was a counterfeit. Blackmore afterwards made 
 a bitter attack on the Tale of a Tub in his Essays (1716). But the 
 reference to Blackmore in the Battle of the Books is not altogether 
 uncomplimentary (p. 220). 
 
 Lestrange. Roger Lestrange (1616-1704), who was knighted in 
 1685, was a voluminous writer of the time, who was suspected of 
 having attempted to gain the favour of Cromwell, although he after- 
 wards claimed rewards from the Court, and became a keen Tory. 
 He appears as Sheva in Absalom and Achitophel (Part II. 1. 1025), and 
 
NOTES, pp. 174-180. 413 
 
 the praise accorded to him in a poem which appeared under Dryden's 
 name was enough to make him the butt of Swift's satire. Here again 
 we see the bent of Swift's political feeling at this date. 
 
 1. 7. rectifier of saddles. Alluding to what his opponents deemed 
 the useless pedantry of Bentley, in correcting common errors as to 
 the authorship of the letters ascribed to Phalaris, and similar for- 
 geries. The phrase is, no doubt, meant to ridicule the uncouth and 
 familiar style in which Bentley often indulged, although I have not 
 found in the Dissertation this special expression. The roughness of 
 his style is so marked that Boyle asserts that it will some day be used 
 as a proof that the Dissertation is a forgery, not being written in the 
 English tongue, or by an educated man. 
 
 1. 13. to lighten me of the burden. In allusion to Bentley's follow- 
 ing up his first Dissertation with another, or to his association with 
 the re-issue of Wotton's Reflections. If the first allusion is intended, 
 the words must have been introduced as an afterthought, most of 
 the Tale having been written before the second Dissertation was 
 issued. 
 
 178, 1. 25. Cf. p. 53, 1. 24. There is a passage in Oldham's 
 Counterpart to the Satire against Virtue beginning, ' What art thou, 
 Fame, for which so eagerly we strive,' which seems to have been in 
 Swift's thoughts, both here and in the poem on p. 53. 
 
 1. 34. The republic of dark authors probably refers to the mystic 
 writers on the Rosicrucian and Cabalist mysteries. 
 
 179, 1. 7. Swift may refer to the strange fancies of the interpreters 
 of Rabelais, without intending to classify Rabelais as one of the 
 ' dark republic' 
 
 1. 15. innuendoes : cf. p. 134, 1. 22 (note). 
 
 1. 24. opus magnum. The great aim of the Alchemists, who are 
 associated by Swift with the Cabalists and other mystics. 
 
 I.30. Bythus and Sige. These words are found in Irenaeus's Trea- 
 tise against Heresies, and form parts of the system of one of the Gnostic 
 sects, which he describes. Bythus (0v66s) and Sige ((ny/f), Profundity 
 and Silence, were held to be the origin of things. Acamoth (aoipia) 
 was the Spirit of Wisdom, materialized by its adjuncts ; and accord- 
 ing to the quotation, ' from her tears comes the substance of moisture, 
 from her laughter that of light, from her sadness that of solid matter, 
 from her fear that of motion.' The Latin words are a translation of 
 Irenaeus, Bk. I. ch. 4. § 2. The whole fancy is incomprehensible 
 enough ; but there is no difficulty in tracing Swift's reference, and the 
 note, ascribed in Scott's edition to Wotton, is not his. Wotton had 
 quite sufficient scholarship to have traced the quotation from Irenaeus. 
 
 180, 1. 1. Eugenius Philalethes, a name under which Vaughan 
 
414 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 wrote (see p. 142, 1. 17 note). The book named in the original note 
 appended to the text was another treatise, of the same kind as 
 his Anthroposophia Theomagica. 
 
 1. 11. allowing me = that he should allow me. 
 
 1. 25. Plight signifies condition or state generally, whether good 
 or bad is usually determined by the epithet. Here Swift uses it in 
 the sense of good condition.' So it is found in Tusser's Five Hundred 
 Points of Good Husbandrie— 
 
 ' Who abuseth his cattle, and starves them for meat, 
 By carting or ploughing his gains are not great; 
 Where he that with labour can use them aright 
 Hath gain to his comfort, and cattle in plight.' 
 But Tusser also uses the word indeterminately, with a qualifying 
 epithet. 
 
 1. 31. let them jog on, &c. The words are put into the mouth of 
 the traveller. 
 
 181, 1. 14. from two of the foregoing (sc. sections). The reference is 
 probably to Sections VIII and IX, on the JEolists and Madness, which 
 deal with the qualities that furnish out the character of Jack. 
 
 1. 17. the first revolution of his brain. Just as Peter's brain is 
 described as ' beginning to turn round for a little ease ' (p. 134, 1. 32). 
 ' Revolution ' is used in the same sense on p. 162, 1. 5. 
 
 1. 18. epidemic: cf. p. 152, 1. 31. 
 
 1. 22. mysteries = symbolical interpretations. Cf. Hudibras, 
 Part III. Cant. i. 1. 178 
 
 ' Pretended not to apprehend 
 The mystery of what he meaned.' 
 
 1. 29. latitude, here strictly = breadth. It is more usually 
 employed either as a geographical term, or to signify 'width of 
 range.' 
 
 1. 31. such . . . whose, instead of those . . . whose, is an idiom 
 frequent in Swift. Cf. p. 68, 1. 29. 
 
 converting imaginations = imaginations that are always hunting 
 after symbolical interpretations. 
 
 182, 1. 13. this very skin of parchment to be, Sec. Alluding to the 
 miraculous efficacy ascribed, by the superstition of some of the sects, 
 to the very words or even the printed pages of the Bible. 
 
 1. 20. lap. A word Swift employs frequently. Cf. Dissensions 
 in Athens and Rome (end of ch. 3), ' Lapped up safely in the bosom 
 of a Nero and a Caligula.' Also p. 185, 1. 2. 
 
 1. 24. analogy, in Swift = conformity. Cf. p. 187, 1. 13. 
 
 1. 25. ran wholly in the phrase of his will. Alluding to the affecta- 
 tion of using Scriptural language, as practised by the sectaries. 
 
NOTES, pp. 180-185. 415 
 
 1. 29. Refers to the resistance of the sectaries to decency of 
 ceremonial, even in receiving the Sacrament. 
 
 1. 3a. snap-dragon. This may refer to the ' inward lanthorn ' 
 and the tendency of the sectaries to inflamed enthusiasm. In the 
 Tatter, No. 85, snap-dragon is used for a type of domestic quarrelling 
 over trifles. 
 
 183, 1. 8. lantern. See p. 152, 1. 26 (note). 
 
 1. 17. It was ordained, &c. Alluding to the Calvinistic doctrine 
 of predestination. 
 
 1. 34. appearing = being seen publicly. 
 184, 1. 17. Laurcalco. The lord of the silver bridge was one of the 
 knights whom Don Quixote's fancy saw at the head of the hosts 
 which it conjured out of the flocks of sheep moving behind a cloud 
 of dust. 
 
 1. 22. scantling (= e'chantillon), pattern or specimen. Cf. Brown's 
 Religio Medici : ' More true happiness than it is possible for a heart 
 of flesh to have scarce any scantling of.' 
 
 I.28. an ancient temple upon Salisbury Plain. This is, of course, 
 Stonehenge. Swift had, like most of his contemporaries, nq interest 
 whatever in the historic or antiquarian aspects of Stonehenge : he 
 simply regarded it as typical of the chaos whence all things arose, 
 and to which the sectaries would fain reduce us. 
 
 I. 34. This may be taken to represent the obstinate perversity 
 with which Swift would credit the dissenters. 
 
 185, 1. 4. the office of hangman general. Alluding to the intolerance 
 that, as Swift would imply, prompted the dissenters to avenge their 
 own sufferings by persecution when their turn came. 
 
 1. 7. musculous. Dr. Johnson, in his Journey to Scotland, uses 
 this word in the same sense as Swift. Modern usage has substituted 
 1 muscular.' 
 
 1. 10. the Spanish accomplishment of braying. So called, probably, 
 because the ass was reared with special care in Spain, and thus 
 a certain appropriateness was given to the comparison between his 
 bray and the boastfulness of the Don. 
 
 1. 16. tarantula. The Sicilian spider, whose sting was supposed 
 to be curable only by music. 
 
 1. 17. Bag-pipes seems to stand for ' organs.' Probably to Swift 
 the bag-pipes had no special connexion with Scotland ; otherwise 
 it would be curious that he should select them as the special aversion 
 of the sectaries. 
 
 1. 19. in Westminster Hall, i. e. amongst the lawyers ; in Billings- 
 gate, amidst the curses of the fish-women. In a boarding-school is 
 more doubtful. The word is frequently found both in Swift and his 
 
41 6 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 contemporaries, and always, apparently, in the sense of a girls' school. 
 Cf. Cadenus and Vanessa — 
 
 ' A blockhead with melodious voice 
 In boarding-school can have his choice.' 
 
 Swift seems here to ascribe the same influence to the sectary. 
 The Royal Exchange, i. e. amongst the shopwomen. A state coffee- 
 house is one of those where political gossip was retailed : at the 
 Cocoa Tree by the Tories, and at the St. James's by the Whigs. So 
 we have a ' coffee-house statesman ' for a politician who aired his 
 views in these resorts. 
 
 1. si. feared = held in reverence. 
 
 1.22. aversion against. The construction is irregular. On p. 186, 
 1. 28, aversion is followed by towards. Cf. also p. 71, 1. 10. 
 
 1. 25. signs — images or decorations in the churches. 
 
 1. 26. This refers to the practice of baptism by immersion. 
 
 1. 32. The soporiferous medicine, compounded of sulphur and 
 balm, is the sectarian preaching, compounded of pictures of the future 
 sufferings of their opponents, and of the happiness in store for them- 
 selves. The pilgrims salve hints at the essential similarity between 
 the Roman Catholic and the Sectary (cf. p. 151, 1. 33 and p. 187, 1. 10). 
 
 186, 1. 1. artificial caustics = self-martyrdom, or ascetic practices. 
 1. 21. the Pope and the French King, against which supporters 
 
 of the Pretender the Dissenters claimed to be England's chief 
 defence. 
 
 1. 28. aversion . . . towards. See 1. 22 on preceding page. 
 
 1. 32. Their lodgings were, Sec. The arrangement of the words is 
 very awkward. From each other does not probably refer to the 
 parts of the town, but to the lodgings, although it is not the lodgings, 
 but the parts of the town, that are distant. It is one of the phrases 
 typical of Swift's style — clear in intention and forcible, although 
 homely and irregular in construction. 
 
 187, 1. 1. uncouth, in its original and strict sense of 'unusual.' 
 1. 13. analogy: cf. p. 182, 1. 24 (note). 
 
 1. 19. medicines for the worms. Cf. p. ISO, 1. 19. 
 
 1. 21. return of. Modern usage would require return for. Cf. 
 p. 85, 1. 9. 
 
 1. 22. and finding how directly opposite, &c. Observe how Swift 
 includes several irregularities in this sentence. The participial 
 phrase, ' finding,' &c, has no subject. There is a confusion between 
 the phrases ' turned out opposite ' and ' answered ill.' Lastly, ' how 
 could it avoid ' has a reference only to the general meaning which the 
 sentence conveys. 
 
 1. 31. nothing but the white. Cf. Hudibras, Part III. Cant. i. 1. 479 
 
NOTES, pp. 1 8,5-1 89. 417 
 
 'While thus the lady talked, the knight 
 Turn'd the outside of his eyes to white 
 (As men of in-Ward light are wont 
 To turn their optics in upon 't).' 
 188, 1. 1. proceeded. Cf. p. 115, 1. 28 note. 
 
 1. 16. Desunt nonnulla. These lacunae appear always to come 
 in when Swift finds his satire taking a course which he would prefer 
 that the reader should guess, rather than that he should fully express 
 it. It is possible that here he stops short at an analysis which would 
 reduce all religious fervour to a common source in human weakness. 
 The comparison between Peter and Jack might be carried further ; 
 and the influence of both might be traced to the ears by which men, 
 like asses, are to be held. 
 
 I. 25. 'Yet even these bonds the mischief-loving changeling will 
 escape.' (Hor. Sat. ii. 3. 71.) 
 
 1. 3|> a curious invention to catch and keep them. Probably 
 refers to the unquestidned dominion of authority and superstition in 
 earlier times. 
 189,I.i. tenure, power of holding. 
 
 1. 9. to improve the growth of ears once more among us = to 
 revive superstition by the efforts of the sectaries. 
 
 1. 15. a cruel king= Charles II, who deprived the nonconformist 
 ministers. Cf. p. 67, 1. 21 (note). 
 
 1. 25. the small care had. Modern usage would put ' taken ' in 
 place of ' had.' 
 
 1. 31. several handles, i.e. other methods which must take the 
 place of the more primitive superstitions. 
 
 the six senses, and note Including Scaliger's. This refers to 
 the elder Scaliger, who speaks of the sextus sensus in his book De 
 Subtilitate addressed ad Hieronymum Cardanum (see Exercitatio 
 286, 3). The allusion is to the sexual passion. This somewhat 
 sarcastic reference was doubtless suggested by the frequent mention, 
 throughout the controversy, of the younger Scaliger, who had been 
 attacked by young Boyle in his Phalaris, and whose name had been 
 mentioned with respect by Bentley — the only Englishman of the day 
 who could really appreciate the range and grasp of the Scaligers' 
 scholarship. The current estimate of the day in England rated the 
 Scaligers as whimsical pedants. Butler, in Hudibras, refers with 
 something of a sneer to the younger Scaliger's labours in chronology 
 (P. II, c. iii. 1. 881). There is a touch of bitter sarcasm in the Battle 
 of the Books, where Swift makes Scaliger, even though fighting, like 
 Bentley, on the Modern side, yet turn upon Bentley with the most 
 contemptuous abuse (p. 223). 
 
 VOL. I. E e 
 
41 8 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 190, I. ii. the aforesaid handle — curiosity. 
 
 1. 14. ostitancy= yawning, or dulness. Swift uses also 'oscita- 
 tion ' (see p. 140, 1. 26 note). 
 
 1. 24. how Peter got a protection out of the King's Bench. This 
 refers to the dispensation from the penal laws against the Roman 
 Catholics, granted by James II. 
 
 1. 25. reconcilement between Jack and him. The union between 
 the Roman Catholics and the dissenters, on the subject of a dis- 
 pensation (just before the Revolution) from the penal laws against 
 nonconformity. 
 
 I.28. How Martin . . shewed them both a fair pair of heels. By 
 the Revolution, preceded by the resistance offered by the Church of 
 England to the dispensing power. 
 
 ' 1. 29. a new warrant came out against Peter. The renewal of the 
 penal laws against the Roman Catholics after the Revolution, when 
 the Presbyterians, having secured toleration for themselves, left their 
 late allies in the lurch. 
 
 1. 32. how he got upon a great horse, and eat custard. Sir 
 Humphrey Edwin, the Presbyterian Lord Mayor in 1697, openly 
 displayed his adherence to nonconformity. Custard was one of the 
 dishes at the Lord Mayor's feast. 
 
 191, I. 14. noble Jesuit (Pere dOrle'ans). Author of a French 
 History of the Revolutions of England, in four volumes, published in 
 1694. He begins from the time of the Roman occupation, and 
 writes, so far as regards the earlier periods, with great care and 
 accuracy, and for the later periods with no more prejudice, 
 certainly, than we might expect to find in a subject of Louis XIV, 
 who had to defend his own king's ally, James II, against what he 
 naturally deemed the injustice of rebellious subjects. For Swift, and 
 indeed for all English readers of his day, the important part of the 
 book was the history of the House of Stuart : and the passage to 
 which Swift seems here to refer, occurs in the preface to that part 
 of the History. He confesses that in regard to this, ' one of the most 
 delicate parts of the history of our times,' he has been obliged to 
 take a side. He is aware, he says, that there are those who think 
 that an historian's business °is only to tell facts, and leave his readers 
 to form their own judgments. ' Cette regie est bonne,' he admits, 
 ' et ceux qui la suivent se mettent moins en danger que les autres de 
 s'dloigner de la verite ' ; but he goes on to say that there are 
 occasions when this is not possible, and when the passionate 
 prejudices of the other side, their calumnies, and their attacks upon 
 divinely constituted authority, require the historian to take a side. 
 Such was the time in which he wrote. The interpretation Swift 
 
NOTES, pp. 190-198. 419 
 
 • 
 places on the passage (if it be that to which he refers) is certainly 
 strained : but the implied sneer shows how at this time Swift resented 
 a book which contained a strong attack upon Whiggish principles. 
 
 I. 26. manifestly considered = considered as manifest tokens or 
 guides. The use of the adverb is peculiar. 
 
 192, 1. 2. banter, a word which Swift regarded with special 
 abhorrence. Cf., in the Apology for the Tale, ' Peter's banter, as he 
 calls it in his Alsatia phrase.' 
 
 1. 3. a small treatise upon the . We may take this to stand 
 
 for some of the productions of the Royal Society, filling up the blank 
 as we please. If the weather is bad, says Swift, banter or a 
 lucubration of the Greshamites will serve : if it is good, let us hear 
 some one having a fling against the chief of pedants. 
 
 1. 11. Durfey. See p. 85, 1. 28 (note). Durfey is here the 
 ' ordure," contrasted with Congreve's ' honey.' 
 
 1. 12. lieve or ' lief (connected with the Germ. Hebe), 'with love 
 or liking,' ' freely.' Used as the opposite of ' loth.' 
 1. 20. list me. Cf. p. 156, 1. 24 (note). 
 193, 1. 9. ut phnus vita; conviva. Swift seems to have in his mind 
 Hor. Sat. i. ±. 119 
 
 'qui . . . exacto contentus tempore vita 
 cedet uti conviva satur.' 
 1. 17. a very polite nation in Greece. Pausanias tells us that in 
 Troezen, near the Temple of the Muses, there was an altar on which 
 the Troezenians sacrificed to the Muses and to Sleep, ' asserting that 
 Sleep is of all deities the most friendly to the Muses.' 
 194, 1. 9. book of commonplaces. Cf. p. 155, 1. 30. 
 1. 20. many a towardly word. Cf. p. 89, 1. 23. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 197, 1. 1. The Bookseller to the Reader. Unlike the introductory 
 notices to the Tale of a Tub, this short preface seems not to be the 
 work of Swift. It must have been written after 1703, when Charles 
 Boyle became Earl of Orrery ; but Swift seems to have added very 
 little to either treatise after 1697 or 1698. The note contains none 
 of the characteristic marks of his style, and he probably left the book- 
 seller to employ some hack for the purpose. Throughout the Battle 
 of the Books Swift's style is rather more careful and regular than 
 in most of his work. 
 
 1. 4. the former, i. c. the Tale of a Tub. 
 
 198, 1. 1. W. Wotton (1666-1726), of St. Catherine's College, 
 Cambridge, was noted in his earliest youth as a prodigy of learning. 
 
 E e 2 
 
420 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 He was B.A. at 13, and already he had been made the subject of 
 complimentary addresses from many of the scholars of the day. He 
 was commonly called ' the polyglot infant.' His Reflections is a book 
 which, dull as it is, shews an enormous amount of information for 
 a man of 28. But his chief mental endowment was memory : 
 and he is represented as eccentric in conduct. Nichol's Lit. 
 Anecdotes, iv. 253, gives a long list of the encomiums addressed to 
 Wotton as -a boy. 
 
 Temple's Essay was published in 1692, and the first edition of 
 Wotton's Reflections on Ancient and Modern Learning was published 
 in 1694. It professed to be rather a review of the current controversy, 
 than a manifesto on the side of the Moderns, although the whole 
 tendency of the book is in that direction : and, although Wotton 
 treated Temple with respect, he distinctly assumed the attitude of an 
 opponent. In 1695, Boyle's edition of Phalaris appeared : and it was 
 only after this that, when Wotton was preparing a second edition 
 of his Reflections, Bentley came to his help by writing the Dissertation 
 on the spurious epistles ascribed to Phalaris and other equally doubt- 
 ful writings of the kind. It was issued as an appendix to Wotton's 
 book. Boyle published a reply in 1696 : and in 1699 Bentley re- 
 issued his Dissertation in a more complete and longer form. 
 
 199, 1. 9. being a sort of cream. Swift uses the same metaphor in 
 the Tale of a Tub (p. 170, 1. 24). 
 
 I. 16. Annual Records of Time. An original note here occurs, 
 ' Riches produceth Pride : Pride is War's Ground, &c. Vid. Ephem. 
 de Mary Clarke, opt. edit.' Scott adds ' now called Wing's ■ Sheet 
 Almanack, and printed by J. Roberts, for the Company of Stationers.' 
 Wing was one of the well-known Almanac writers of the day, named 
 by Swift in one of the Bickerstaff pamphlets. Ephemerides was a 
 title given to some of these compilations, but I have failed to trace 
 any in the name of Mary Clarke. Swift's reference may be purposely 
 misleading, and the point of the sentence may very likely be to sneer 
 at the prophetic almanacs of the day, by pretending that Time would 
 choose such a vehicle for announcing the secrets which he alone can 
 reveal. 
 
 II. 16-27. Pride, says Swift, certainly produces war, and perhaps 
 is itself produced by Riches. But, however this may be, Pride is 
 certainly own sister to Want ; Want is the parent of Lust and 
 Avarice : and as these produce war, Want as well as Pride must 
 be held to be the source of war. 
 
 1. 29. an institution of the many = a government in which the 
 multitude bear sway. 
 
 200, 1. 21. on the part of=as a motive on the side of. 
 
NOTES, pp. 198-203. 42! 
 
 1. 29. conjecture at. Swift is so prone to introduce the pre- 
 position at the close of a sentence that, in this instance, he has added 
 one entirely useless. Cf. p. 146, 1. 11. 
 
 201, 1. 8. Cf. p. 159, 1. 26. 
 
 1. 11. summity, for 'summit,' a word not infrequently found in 
 Swift's day and in the preceding century (cf. p. 204, 1. 2). 
 
 1. 12. or else the said ancients will. Observe the omission of 
 ' that ' after else, and the change of the would of the previous sentence 
 into will. According to his habit, Swift, for the sake of force, 
 changes the oratio obliqua into the actual words of the emissaries of 
 the Moderns. 
 
 I. 27. if they did, or did not, know : i. e. folly, if they did„ igno- 
 rance, if they did not, know. . 
 
 1. 34. by the moderns with much indignation, who still Resisted. 
 Observe the separation, which sounds awkwardly to us, of the rela- 
 tive and its antecedent. 
 
 202, 1. 10. which, conveyed through a sort of engine . . . infinite 
 numbers of these are darted. Observe the breach in the construction, 
 of which we have already noted many instances in Swift. 
 
 1. 15. gall and copperas are, in fact, the principal ingredients 
 in ink. 
 
 203, 1. 7. to inform them, to give them character and meaning. Cf. 
 forma informans, p. 157, 1. 22. 
 
 1. 10. brutum hominis, the elementary principle of man, without 
 the 'plastic ' of the soul. The notion is first suggested by the 
 passage in the Phaedo (81), where the lower and more grovelling 
 souls are said to haunt the neighbourhood of tombs and sepulchres, 
 being not entirely detached from the earthly element. Milton repro- 
 duces the Platonic notion in Comus (470) — 
 
 ' Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 
 Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres 
 Lingering, and sitting by a. new-made grave ; 
 As loth to leave the body that it loved,' &c. 
 Dr. Eenry More, the Platonist, in his Immortality of the Soul, 
 (Bk. II. ch. xvi), quaintly expresses the notion that bodies ' lately 
 dead, or as fresh as those that are but newly dead,' may facilitate the 
 appearance of the souls of those that are gone, ' and so invite them 
 (i. e. the ghosts) to play tricks when they can do it at so cheap a rate.' 
 Sir T. Brown (Religio Medici) thinks they are not the souls of the 
 dead, ' but unquiet walks of devils,' who choose the cemeteries as 
 ' dormitories of the dead, where the Devil beholds with pride his 
 spoils and trophies.' Sir Kenelm Digby, in his Observations on the 
 Religio Medici, leans to More's view rather than Brown's, and repro- 
 
422. SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 duces the idea of Plato, that those * terrene ' souls that ' go out 
 of their bodies with affection to the things they left behind them,' 
 appear in ' cemeteries and charnel-houses.' 
 
 These variations in the fancy are interesting, as they shew us 
 where Swift's reading lay. 
 
 1. 19. to bind them to the peace with strong iron chains. The 
 chains with which certain books used to be bound in libraries. 
 Books of controversy are to be bound by those chains, which were 
 not considered necessary in the case of books of the modern taste. 
 (Cf. p. 156, 1. 19.) 
 
 1. 24. Aristotle . . . Plato. The dispute between the Platonists 
 and Aristotelians was one in which Swift had no interest, and of 
 which, probably, he knew very little. He introduces this episode 
 merely to illustrate the struggles between authors ; and, as a fact, 
 many of those to whom he refers sarcastically were noted as im- 
 pugners of mediaeval Aristotelianism. 
 
 1. 27. near eight hundred years. Duns Scotus wrote in the 14th 
 century : and it is curious that Swift should assign the supremacy of 
 the preceding eight hundred years to Plato, as they really covered 
 the period from the decay of Platonism in the 6th century to its 
 revival in the 14th. 
 
 1. 30. polemics = polemical or controversial works. 
 204, 1. 23. regal library = the Royal library of St. James's. 
 
 a person of great valour. Dr. Bentley, who was appointed to the 
 office in 1694. 
 
 1. 24. chiefly renowned for his humanity. This refers to the words 
 used by Charles Boyle, in the preface to his edition of the Letters of 
 Phalaris, where he complained of what he deemed the churlish 
 conduct of Bentley in connexion with the loan of a MS., as 'in 
 keeping with his extraordinary notion of Courtesy ' {pro singulars 
 humanilate sua). Humanitas signified, of course, ' courtesy ' ; but it 
 was one of the current jokes of Bentley's opponents to ' English ' 
 it as ' humanity ' — thus implying that he was a savage as well as 
 a boor. ' 
 
 1. 27. two of the ancient chiefs. Phalaris and Aesop, the spurious- 
 ness of the writings ascribed to these two having been the chief topic 
 of the Dissertation. 
 
 1. 33. in reducing to practice = in bringing back (themselves or 
 their speculations) to the test of practice. 
 
 205, 1. 10. a strange confusion of place among all the books. Bentley 
 did, more than once, complain of the disorder of the library, as 
 excusing occasional difficulty of access to MSS., and Swift probably 
 refers to this, and offers an uncomplimentary explanation of it. 
 
NOTES, pp. 203-308. 423 
 
 1. 22. the Seven Wise Masters. This was a popular class-book of 
 the day, much in use as a book for the moral instruction of children. 
 It is curious that Swift should name it as » representative of the 
 Moderns, since the original compilation is traced back to Sandabar, 
 Chief of the Indian Brahmins, who is said to have lived before the 
 Christian era. It was certainly of Eastern origin ; and, from Hebrew, 
 Greek, and Latin versions, spread all over Europe, being translated 
 into every language. It is a string of stories hanging upon a con- 
 trivance like that of the Arabian Nights, and contains some tales 
 that have obtained enormous vogue. Amongst others, that of Gelert, 
 the faithful hound, which has located itself in Wales, is first found in 
 this compilation. 
 
 I. 24. Withers. This spelling of the name of George Wither 
 (1588-1667) occurs in the first edition, and has been repeated in all 
 others. It occurs again on p. 212, 1. 21 ; and the same spelling is 
 found in Oldham, in his Satire dissuading from Poetry, and in Dry- 
 den's Dedication of the Aeneid. Probably Wither's adherence to 
 the Parliamentary side in the time of the Rebellion was sufficient, 
 without any thought of his literary defects, to account for his 
 being joined in a sarcastic reference with Swift's unforgiven enemy, 
 Dryden. 
 
 1. 31. consisting chiefly of light-horse, heavy-armed foot, and mer- 
 cenaries. The enumeration dogs not quite agree with that on p. 212. 
 But in both cases the light-horse are the poets, other than epic ; the 
 foot are the historians ; while mercenaries seem to^be those who have 
 little interest in the points of the struggle, but, from the accident of 
 their date, fight on the side of the Moderns. 
 
 1. 33. their horses. The previous clause makes this almost 
 absurd, were it not that Swift's elliptical habit requires us to supply 
 the sense by referring the present clause to the light-horse. 
 
 206, 1. 14. The note is original, and refers to the paradox that the 
 Moderns could claim superiority in point of ancient descent and more 
 prolonged experience. Cf. Hobbes's Answer to Davenant's Preface 
 to Gondibert : ' I honour antiquity, but that which is comirfonly called 
 old time is young time.' 
 
 207, 1. 1. Temple happened to hear them. Temple had introduced 
 the dispute from France into England. 
 
 1. 33. Beelzebub. The god of flies. 
 
 208, 1. 17. pruned himself. Cleared his wings of cobweb, as a 
 bird preparing for flight smooths his ruffled plumage. Cf. Shake- 
 speare, Cymbeline, Act v. Sc. 4 — speaking of Jove's eagle — 
 
 i, ' his royal bird 
 
 Prunes the 'immortal wing and cloys his beak.' 
 
424 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 209, I. 8. a freebooter. The usual break in the construction gives 
 some additional energy to the objurgation. 
 
 1. 12. my improvements in the mathematics. Vaunted on behalf 
 of the Moderns in Wotton's Reflections. Cf. p. 207, 1. 16, and p. 211, 
 
 1. 15- 
 
 1. 28. consider duration and matter, as well as method and art. 
 Swift repeats this distinction between what he considers to be the 
 chief and the secondary elements in literary excellence, almost in the 
 same words, on p. 211, 1. 22. At first sight it would seem scarcely 
 to agree with the position he takes up in the dispute between 
 Ancients and Moderns. It might appear that ' method and art ' (or 
 ' skill ' as he puts it on p. 211) were the qualities which, in the 
 opinion of those whose sympathies would naturally lie with the 
 Ancients, were the prime sources of 'duration^ instead of being 
 sharply distinguished from it. But so to interpret Swift's words 
 would be to import the terms of more recent criticism into the dis- 
 cussions of Swift's day. By ' method and art ' Swift means pedantic 
 rules and artificiality ; and by ' duration ' he means rather the 
 breadth of treatment which gives to literary work an enduring 
 interest as distinguished from topics of the day, than merely the 
 continued respect and admiration which may be secured by artistic 
 excellence. 
 
 Swift was really fighting the battle of literary art against the 
 whims, and caprices of a spurious originality which despises rule, 
 and claims admiration for its laboured ingenuity and its obscurity. 
 But no man was ever less prone to allow rules of art to become a 
 burden or to fetter his liberty. . 
 
 The commonplace description of the Tale of a Tub and the Battle 
 of the Books as incidents in a forgotten controversy, might lead us to 
 suppose that Swift had erred against his own rule. But we can 
 never understand either book until we have learned fully that they 
 deal with subjects as fresh in their interest for us to-day as when the 
 books were written. The accidental contemporary phases of the 
 struggle may have passed ; but it is as much with us as ever, and 
 must remain with us as long as the fundamental differences of taste, 
 education, and temperament endure amongst men. 
 
 210, 1. 7. that which, by u lazy contemplation, &c. There is no 
 doubt as to the text, but the sentence is evidently irregular. It is 
 the ' overweening pride,' and not the one variety of being, which feeds 
 and engenders on itself, and turns all into venom. But this second 
 ' which ' introduces a confusion : and instead of writing 'produces ' in 
 the following clause, Swift repeats the participial construction from 
 ' feeding and engendering.' 
 
NOTES, pp. 209-312. 425 
 
 1. 12. distinction, in the sense of ' discrimination.' 
 I. 23. by a strange effect of the regents humanity. Another refer- 
 ence to the singularis humanitas of Bentley, and his office of Royal 
 Librarian. See p. 204, 11. 24 and 27 (notes). 
 
 211, 1. 5. It is but to adjust = all we have to do is to adjust. 
 
 1. 30. which. There is, of set purpose, some indefiniteness about 
 this relative. It seems to refer both to the satire of the Moderns, and 
 to the poison of the spider. 
 
 212, I. 7. the two noblest of things, which are sweetness and light. 
 Whatever the precise origin of this famous phrase (revived in our 
 own day by Mr. Matthew Arnold), Swift has made it distinctively his 
 own. It seems likely that the conjunction of qualities was taken 
 from the advice to the pedant in Lucian's Lexiphanes, MaAioTa 8* 
 Biie X&piai ieai Scufnjveiq, ' Sacrifice chiefly to the Graces and to Per- 
 spicuity,' — 'which,' the adviser goes on, 'have now altogether forsaken 
 you.' The phrase is cited in Boyle's Answer to Bent\ey's Dissertation 
 (1698), which was chiefly written by Atterbury. But it is quite as 
 likely that the citation was suggested by Swift (who may, like others, 
 have contributed to the Answer) as that he borrowed it from thence. 
 The passage in Lucian curiously ^illustrates Swift's attitude. The 
 pedant is told not to imitate the latest fashions of the Sophists 
 (Swift's Moderns) but ' to follow with zeal the old models.' 
 
 1. 14. consults for ' consultations.' Cf. Dryden, in the Dedication to 
 King Arthur, where he says the friends of Charles II were not only 
 boon companions, but • able to advise him in a serious consult '; and 
 the closing line of Paradise Lost, Book I, ' the great consult began.' 
 See also p. 222, 1. 19. 
 
 1. 19. the horse. Cf. p. 205, 1. 31 (note). 
 
 1. 20. Dryden and Withers. Coupled together again, as on 
 p. 205, 1. 23. j 
 
 I.22. Despreaux. Nicolas Boileau, Sieur Despreaux (1635-1711), 
 is named by Swift with as little sarcastic intention as is aimed at 
 Cowley. Boileau's work was, indeed, all on the side for which 
 Swift was fighting; and he not only ridiculed the pretension, put 
 forward on his behalf, of being superior to Horace, but strove con- 
 sistently for all those principles of criticism which the ancient 
 models have inspired. 
 
 1. 22. the bowmen = the philosophers. 
 
 1. 23. Des Cartes, Gassendi, and Hobbes. These are probably 
 chosen as representative names, without any special reference to 
 their views. We have already found how numerous are Swift's 
 citations from Descartes, in whose system he seems to have been 
 interested, although his way of speaking of it is occasionally half- 
 
426 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 sarcastic. Gassendi (1592-1655) was a devout French Churchman, 
 who held a leading place amidst the mental and physical philosophers 
 of his day. He wrote against the scholastic Aristotelianism ; against 
 the Cabalists ; and was so sharply divided from some of Descartes' 
 views, that his own followers formed a school of philosophy as dis- 
 tinguished from the Cartesians. Curiously enough, although his 
 views were essentially different from those of Hobbes, with whom 
 Swift now ranges him, the two had a mutual respect for one another, 
 and occasionally corresponded. Hobbes is named by Swift as fre- 
 quently as Descartes. 
 
 1. 26. like that of Evander. Swift's memory has betrayed him 
 here. The incident occurs in the well-known description of' the 
 Games in the zjChAeneid, and the arrow was that of Acestes. Swift 
 has transferred it to the later books, where the meeting of Evander 
 and Aeneas, and their alliance, are described. 
 
 1. 27. Paracelsus brought a squadron of stink-pot~ftingers from the 
 snowy mountains of Rhatia. Refers to the despised chemical experi- 
 ments of Paracelsus and his followers. Paracelsus was a native of 
 Switzerland, and hence is said to come from the Alpine heights of 
 Rhaetia, which corresponds to the Austrian Tyrol. 
 
 1. 29. dragoons — medical writers. 
 
 1. 30. Harvey, whose discovery of the circulation of the blood 
 was disparaged by Temple. 
 
 aga, the title of a principal officer of the Turkish janizzaries. 
 213. 1. 1. heavy-armed foot, all mercenaries = the historians. They 
 are called mercenaries, because they light from accident on the side 
 of the Moderns, having no interest in the struggle, and writing, most 
 of them, in Latin. 
 
 1. 2. Guicciardini (1482-1540), the Florentine statesman and 
 historian, who wrote, in Italian, a lengthy history of Italy in his own 
 day. Boccalini (see p. 81, 1. 4) tells a story of a Spartan citizen, 
 who, having said in three words what might have been said in two, 
 was sentenced to punishment, but offered the alternative of reading 
 Guicciardini's history of the Pisan war. He read the first few pages ; 
 but then begged for the severest punishment, so as to escape from a 
 continuation of the dreary task. 
 
 Davila (1576-1623), an Italian, who took service under 
 Henry IV of France, and wrote the Istoria delle guerre civile di 
 Francia, detailing the struggles in France in the latter half of the 
 1 6th century. 
 
 Polydore Virgil (1470-1555), of Italian birth, settled in 
 England as a Churchman, and became involved in disputes with 
 Wolsey. He wrote a history, entitled Historia Anglica. 
 
NOTES, pp. 312-213. 427 
 
 Buchanan (1506-1582) wrote, in Latin, his history of Scot- 
 land. His well-known opposition to the regimen of women made 
 him an easy object of attack in the reign of Queen Anne. 
 
 Mariana (1536-1624), a Spanish Jesuit, who wrote, in 
 Latin, a history of Spain, and whose defence of tyrannicide earned 
 for him, it may be, Swift's deeper contempt. 
 
 1. 3. Cambden, a misspelling for Camden, repeated in all the 
 editions. He was the well-known antiquarian historian (1551-1623), 
 author of the Britannia, also in Latin. 
 The engineers = mathematicians. 
 
 1. 4. Regiomontanus, a German mathematician and natural 
 philosopher (1436-1476), whose name of Muller was thus Latinized 
 from Konigsberg, his birthplace. 
 
 Wilkins (1614-1672) is evidently treated by Swift as a 
 typical representative of the Royal Society, to whose transactions 
 he contributed much that was whimsical and quaint rather than 
 scientific, although he attained some distinction as a mathematician. 
 He shewed a remarkable power of conforming to political change, 
 having married Cromwell's sister and yet been appointed Bishop of 
 Chester by Charles II. 
 
 1. 5. Scotus, Aquinas, and Bellarmine. Scotus and Aquinas are 
 named as typical leaders in the Scholastic philosophy. Bellarmine, 
 the great Jesuit (1542-1621), is joined with them, as being a theolo- 
 gian of the Catholic Church, although otherwise he had little in 
 common with them. In the 17th century he was taken as the 
 typical defender of Catholicism against Protestantism. 
 
 1. 8. calones, soldiers' servants — hence the disorderly rout of 
 camp-followers. 
 
 1. 8. L'Estrange, or Lestrange. See p. 177, 1. 5 (note). 
 
 1. 15. Vossius. Gerard Voss of Leyden (1577-1649) was a man 
 of wide classical learning, who obtained, in England, the patronage 
 of Laud, and whose son, with less learning and a less reputable 
 character, became Canon of Windsor in the days of Charles II. 
 
 I. 21. among the gods, she always tells truth, — which she does 
 not elsewhere. Cf. p. 53, 1. 24 (note). 
 
 1. 27. Momus, the god of jealous mockery. In Hesiod's Theo- 
 gony (214) we read that ' Night produced Destiny and Black Fate, 
 and Sleep and the tribe of Dreams . . . and Momus and bitter Care.' 
 Plato, in the Republic, uses the word as a proverbial personification 
 of carping criticism. But Swift, doubtless, had in his mind Lucian's 
 Assembly of the Gods, where Momus is the principal spokesman, 
 and accuses all the gods in turn, not excepting Zeus himself, of 
 various crimes. He confesses himself to be 'free of tongue and 
 
428 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 loth to pass in silence any wrong.' At the close Zeus tells him 
 that there is some truth in his censures, and that it is well to nip in 
 the bud wrongs that may spread. Momus is, therefore, the Spirit of 
 Censure : from whom to the Spirit of modern Criticism, Swift intends 
 us to infer that there is but one step, but that a considerable step 
 (p. 214, 1. 24). 
 
 214, 1. 6. menial servants to Jupiter ; and 1. 14, called by mortal men 
 accidents or events. Cf. Sir Kenelm Digby's Observations on Brown's 
 Religio Medici. 'AH outward circumstances, whose highest link, 
 poets say prettily, is fastened to Jupiter's chair, and the lowest is 
 rivetted to every individual on earth.' 
 
 1. 26. Ignorance, her father and husband, &c. Cf. p. 120, 1. 28 
 (note). 
 
 215, 1. 18. who give wisdom to infants. Swift here forgets the cir- 
 cumstances, and gives the rein to his satire in its full force. Had he 
 remembered these circumstances, he could hardly, even in derision, 
 have spoken thus of the position of Charles Boyle, who, scarcely 
 more than a schoolboy, had offered combat to Bentley. Whatever 
 Bentley was, not even his bitterest enemy could have described him 
 as an ' infant,' a ' schoolboy,' or a ' coffee-house wit.' 
 
 216, 1. 6. Gresham and Covent Garden. The houses of the Royal 
 Society and of the coffee-house wits. 
 
 1. 11. virtuosos. See p. 104, 1. 2 (note). 
 
 217, 1. 19. Galen. Claudius Galenus, of Pergamum (a. d. 130-200), 
 perhaps the greatest medical authority amongst the ancients. 
 
 1. 26. The blank is left probably because Swift neither felt 
 inclined nor qualified to discuss the relations between the different 
 medical authorities of recent times. He was not, indeed, so fitted 
 for the scientific discussion as the despised Wotton, whose treatment 
 of that part of the subject is full and careful, however inept. The 
 aga (see p. 210, 1. 30) is Harvey : and the first blank must therefore 
 be supposed to cover the incidents of the fight from Paracelsus to 
 Harvey, and the second blank those from Harvey downwards. » 
 
 218, 1. 5. vortex. Cf. p. 165, 1. 10 (note). 
 
 1. 6. This hiatus covers the opening of the fight between the 
 horsemen. 
 
 1. 13. Gondibert was an heroic poem, written by Sir William 
 Davenant in 1650. It is composed in rhymed quatrains, and upon 
 the taste of our own day leaves no other impression than that of un- 
 paralleled dulness. But in the eyes of the author and his friends it 
 seemed an attempt of the first importance. Not only did it earn the 
 unstinted praise of Waller and Cowley, but it was ushered in by a 
 tedious and obscure preface, addressed to Hobbes, in which the 
 
NOTES, pp. 214-318. 439 
 
 errors of previous epic poets were set forth, and in which the 
 ambitious purposes of the writer, and his determination to avoid such 
 flights of imagination as he thinks have vitiated other epics, are 
 explained. He is not always consistent with himself : for while he 
 hopes that the rhymed verse will enable it, with the more ease, to be 
 recited at village feasts, he yet professes to write, not for the common 
 taste of mankind, but for those whom he calls 'necessary men,' i. e. 
 men of light and leading. Hobbes answers the preface by stating his 
 testimony ' briefly thus : I never yet saw poem, that had so much 
 shape of art, health of morality, and vigour and beauty of expression, 
 as this of yours.' Such is the worth of contemporary literary criti- 
 cism judged by the standards of another age. The poem did not 
 escape some satirical attacks, and its reception generally seems not 
 to have answered Davenant's hopes so far as to encourage him to 
 complete it : but he consoles himself with the thought that the fame 
 denied by his own age will be accorded by posterity ; and Hobbes 
 adhered to his own opinion in its favour, even after the attacks of the 
 wits. Rymer was more chary of his praise, but still thought that 
 there ran ' something roughly noble through the whole.' 
 
 1. 22. Denham. Sir John Denham (1615-1668) was one who 
 deserved, what he here obtains from Swift, the recognition of a cer- 
 tain true literary gift. By some of the best critics of the day when 
 the Battle of the Books was written, Denham was held to share with 
 Cowley and Waller the merit of having moulded the poetic diction of 
 England : and the distinctive quality ascribed to him is shewn by 
 Pope's lines {Essay on Criticism) — 
 
 ' And praise the easy vigour of a line 
 Where Denham's strength and Waller's sweetness join.' 
 His poem on Cooper's Hill — which has yielded at least the hackneyed 
 quotation, against the currency of which Swift, in one of his poems, 
 feels it needful to protest, 'Oh, could I flow like thee,'&c. — is that by 
 which his name is chiefly remembered. It has no real epic cha- 
 racter : and although it contains an occasional foretaste of the vigour 
 of expression which Dryden was to bring to perfection, it has 
 scarcely any other quality which would recommend it to the taste of 
 our own day. A short poem on the death of Cowley (whom Den- 
 ham outlived only by a year) is more graceful and deft in workman- 
 ship. Compared with Gondiberi, his work justified the half-divine 
 descent with which Swift credits him. 
 
 1. 27. Wesley (Samuel, 1662-1735) was Rector of Epworth in 
 Lincolnshire. He is chiefly remembered as the father of John and 
 Charles Wesley. But in Swift's day he had attained some little note 
 as the author of some poems, including one whose title is enough to 
 
430 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 shew its character, The Life of Christ, an Heroic Poem. Garth has 
 gibbeted him in a couplet in the Dispensary — 
 
 'Had Wesley never aimed in verse to please 
 We had not ranked him with our Ogilbys.' 
 
 1. 28. Perrault (Charles 1628-1703) was one of the earliest de- 
 fenders of the Moderns in France, and, with Fontenelle, is cited as 
 one of the leaders on that side of the controversy, by Wotton. 
 Hence Swift's attack upon them both. From his earliest youth 
 Perrault had a love of controversy, which he stimulated by voracious 
 and ill-regulated reading. In 1687 his poem on Le Steele de Louis le 
 Grand provoked ridicule by its extravagant claims on behalf of the 
 Moderns. Between 1688 and 1698 he published, in 4 vols, a Parallele 
 des Anciens et des Modernes. This literary freak was only one phase 
 of his mental tendency, which was essentially directed against 
 authority. His controversial works are forgotten, but his Contes des 
 Fees has been a favourite with generations of children. 
 
 1. 29. Fontenelle (Bernard de Bovier de, 1657-1757) was a 
 nephew of Corneille, and hence was early in life directed towards 
 literature. Like Perrault, he took the Modern side in the con- 
 troversy against Boileau and Racine, moved thereto partly by an 
 utter absence of any germ of literary taste, and partly by the restless 
 spirit of free-thought in which he anticipated the epoch into which 
 his own old age extended. Irreverence, bred of a certain intellectual 
 acuteness and intrepidity, was not mitigated in Fontenelle by any 
 real interest in, or sympathy with, what was great in literature. 
 
 1. 33- the slowness of whose pace. What Lord Tennyson has de- 
 scribed as Virgil's 'ocean roll of rhythm.' 
 
 219, 1. 15. like the lady in a lobster, seems to refer to the fancied 
 likeness to a lady's head in a hood detected in one part of the 
 lobster's shell. 
 
 1. 19. in a long harangue. In Dryden's Preliminary Disserta- 
 tions introducing his translation of the Aeneid, he undertakes the 
 defence of Virgil, who, he says, with Spenser in English, has been 
 his Master. Dryden's translation was only published in 1697, the 
 year in which Swift was writing. 
 
 1. 25. though his was of gold. An original note says ' Vide 
 Homer.' The passage referred to is that in the Sixth Book, where 
 Glaucus exchanges his armour of gold, worth a hundred beeves, for 
 Diomed's armour of brass, worth nine beeves. 
 
 220, 1. 1. Lucan. Although Swift's words on the preceding page 
 shew that he knew how to appreciate Virgil as the ' wielder of the 
 noblest measure ever moulded by the lips of man,' he yet sympathises 
 with the taste of his own age in his admiration of the rhetorical im- 
 
NOTES, pp. 2I8-230. 431 
 
 petuosity of Lucan's style, and perhaps insufficiently observed those 
 defects which have caused Lucan's fame to decay. Swift's description 
 of Lucan's style, however, is apt, and implies some hint of con- 
 demnation. According to Quintilian, Lucan was a model for the 
 imitation of orators as much as for that of poets. 
 
 1. 4. Blackmore. Cf. p. 177, 1. 5 (note). In the Rhapsody on 
 Poetry, Swift, who had by that time, perhaps, imbibed more of the 
 contempt felt by Pope and his faction for Blackmore, speaks of 
 Blackmore with more sweeping condemnation, as the successor to 
 Flecknoe's crown. 
 
 1. 5. one of the mercenaries. Cf. p. 213, 1. 1 (note). It is difficult 
 to say why Blackmore is named here as a mercenary. It may mean 
 that he wrote with no natural bias to Moderns or Ancients, but 
 took his place amongst the Moderns from interested motives rather 
 than from taste. 
 
 1. 8. jEsculapius, as the patron of physicians — that being the 
 profession of Blackmore. 
 
 I.19. Creech. Thomas Creech (1659-1700) belonged to Wadham 
 College, Oxford, and afterwards obtained a Fellowship at All Souls. 
 His translation of Lucretius, published in 1682, obtained wide popu- 
 larity, and, with his later annotated edition of the text, earned him 
 considerable respect from judges of weight. He followed this up by 
 numerous other translations, one of which especially — that of Ju- 
 venal's 13th Satire— won the admiration of Warton. In 1684 he 
 essayed that task which has proved a pitfall to so many — a verse 
 translation of Horace. The fact that it was dedicated to Dryden 
 would not lessen Swift's readiness to satirize it : but it was poor 
 enough to deserve all the contempt which the episode here 
 described implies. Creech committed suicide in 1700. 
 
 1. 24. Ogleby. John Ogleby or Ogilby, born near Edinburgh in 
 1600, had a strange experience. He began life as a dancing-master ; 
 when of mature age educated himself into the possession of much ill- 
 assorted information : and with the confidence which such self-edu- 
 cation not rarely gives, essayed the translation of Virgil and Homer. 
 He survived till 1676, and spent a busy life as translator, writer of 
 epics, printer, and map-compiler. His industry and honesty deserve 
 some respect: but his name became, in literature, a byword for 
 laborious incapacity. 
 
 1. 26. Oldham. John Oldham (1653-1683) is named in con- 
 nexion with Pindar, from his many Pindaric Odes, in which (to use 
 his own words) he found a language suited to his genius — 
 ' Soft as my Muse, and unconfined as she 
 When flowing in numbers of Pindaric liberty.' 
 
432 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 To Pope he seemed to have ' strong rage, but it is too much like 
 Billingsgate.' Coarse, irregular, extravagant as Oldham often is, he 
 had a strong vein of genius, fitly described in Drydeu's beautiful 
 elegy, beginning — 
 
 ' Farewell ! too little and too lately known, 
 Whom I began to think and call my own.' 
 Dryden calls him, with some aptness, ' the Marcellus of our tongue ' ; 
 and the literary treasure-house of the age lost much by the early 
 death of Oldham. That he won Dryden's regard would be no pass- 
 port to Swift's favour : but it is curious that Swift's own poetry con- 
 tains not a few reminiscences of Oldham. Cf. Oldham's Satire dis- 
 suading against Poetry with Swift's Rhapsody. 
 
 1. 27. Afra the Amazon. This is Mrs. Afra Behn, whose novels 
 and plays, as well as her gallantry, illustrate much in the coarser 
 taste of the day. To a modern reader the strangest feature is that 
 she was thought by some of her contemporaries to err by an excess 
 of wit — the quality which seems most conspicuous by its absence 
 from all she wrote. 
 
 1. 30. Cowley. Abraham Cowley (1618-1667) had been so much 
 a model for Swift's early poems, that the tempered description of his 
 engagement with Pindar, ending with the transformation of a portion 
 of his body into a dove, is not surprising. The contemporary of 
 Denham, he cultivated letters with a far greater devotion than he, 
 and has left a far deeper impression on our literature. He has suf- 
 fered, perhaps unduly, from being made the subject of some of 
 Johnson's most pointed criticism, in the Lives of the Poets, and has 
 been remembered as the typical specimen of that overwrought arti- 
 ficiality in poetry to which Johnson has given the name of the 
 Metaphysical School. Cowley, in fact, only followed a custom much 
 more rife in the preceding age ; but his laboured conceits are more 
 remarked because joined with more graceful language than his pre- 
 decessors used. His Pindarics were a literary error : but it does not 
 therefore follow that they did not help the later triumphs of the Ode 
 as a phase in English poetry. The shield given him by Venus is that 
 'language of the heart' which Pope declares himself still to love, 
 though ' forgot his epic, nay Pindaric art.' 
 
 221, 1. 26. amarant, or amaranth, a flower whose blossoms never 
 withered, and hence served as preservatives against decay. Cf. 
 Paradise Lost, iii. 352 
 
 ' Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold, 
 
 Immortal amarant : a flower which once 
 
 In Paradise fast by the stream of life 
 
 Began to bloom.' 
 
NOTES, pp. 220-3^3- 433 
 
 222, 1. 4. Bentley. See p. 85, 1. 32 (note). It is not easy to 
 account for the exaggerated bitterness of Swift's attack upon Bentley, 
 except on the theory that his hostility nursed itself on its own heat. 
 Bentley had not attacked Swift personally ; he belonged to the 
 political party to which Swift at this time ostensibly belonged ; and 
 it seems strange that Bentley's arraignment of Temple, which cer- 
 tainly did not exceed the limits then common in literary controversy, 
 should have provoked such wrath in Swift. The strong language 
 used by others of the participants in the fight did not prevent sub- 
 sequent friendship. Bentley seems to have been afterwards on 
 friendly terms both with Boyle and his ally, Atterbury. On the 
 whole the current opinion seems to have been that Bentley, the 
 weight of whose scholarship was not felt by his own age, was 
 worsted in the fight. Garth probably expressed the general view, 
 when in the Dispensary he wrote, ' And to a Bentley 'tis we owe a 
 Boyle,' — a compliment which Boyle repaid by laudatory verses. 
 
 1. 9. Etesian wind. The Etesian winds were annual (Itos) trade- 
 winds, blowing during the hot months. 
 
 1. 12. copperas . . . gall. The ingredients of ink. Cf. p. 202, 1. 15. 
 1. 19. a consult. Cf. p. 212, 1. 14 (note). 
 
 1. 32. a pack of rogues, &c. This is a travesty of the somewhat 
 homely energy of Bentley's polemical style — what his opponents 
 called ' his low and mean ways of speech.' 
 
 22S, 1. 1. presumptuous dogs, and note ' Vid. Homer, de Thersite.' 
 Swift refers of course to Iliad ii. 212. But though Homer's personal 
 description of Thersites tallies very closely with that which Swift 
 gives of Bentley, Thersites makes no such boast as Swift puts into 
 Bentley's mouth. He ' wrangles with the kings,' and advises a 
 return home : but he does not claim that Troy would have fallen 
 under his generalship. The taunt in 1. 4 is, however, that of 
 Thersites in Homer. 
 
 1. 7. Scaliger. See p. 189, 1. 31 (note). Here the younger 
 Scaliger is referred to, and, as he had been named with praise by 
 Bentley, the rebuke here uttered is all the more sarcastic. 
 
 1. 8. Miscreant. This word played a curious part in Swift's 
 subsequent quarrel with Steele. Steele had applied the word, in its 
 ordinary sense, to a writer in the Examiner, whom he wrongly 
 identified with Swift. Instead of frankly withdrawing it, he hinted 
 that in the sense of ' unbeliever ' (mescroyant) it would still apply 
 to Swift. 
 
 1. 11. thy study of humanity more inhuman. Cf. p. 204, 1. 24 
 (note). Humanity is here used in the sense of classical learning. 
 
 1. 28. Aldrovandus. The Latinized form of the name of Aldro- 
 
 VOL. I. F f 
 
434 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 vandi of Bologna (1522-1607), a naturalist of enormous industry, who 
 spent some sixty years over a monumental work on natural history in 
 all its branches, the greater part of which was not published till after 
 his death. Buffon admits that it has merits, if it were one-tenth the 
 size. ' I see him,' says Buffon, ' in his library reading ancients, 
 moderns, philosophers, theologians, jurisconsults, historians, travel- 
 lers, poets — only to catch a word or phrase remotely connected with 
 his subject: copying their remarks, ranging them in alphabetical 
 order, storing his note-books, and then beginning his work, deter- 
 mined that no scrap that he has gathered shall be lost.' Swift 
 represents this gigantic work, which he may have seen cumbering 
 the shelves of the Royal Library, as its author's tomb. 
 
 1. 29. on the side of the declining sun — and therefore away from 
 the first source of light. Cf. p. 201, I. 8, ' the prospect . . . towards 
 the east,' and still more p. 159, 1. 26 (note). 
 
 224, 1. 19. Phalaris and Atsop. The spurious epistles of Phalaris, 
 and the fables ascribed to ^Esop, had been selected for admiration by 
 Temple, and were the subject of a large part of Bentley's Dissertation. 
 It is curious that Swift commits himself so fully on the genuineness 
 of the Epistles, which was not maintained by Boyle. As Boyle had 
 edited- Phalaris, so Anthony Alsop, of Christ Church, in 1698, edited 
 the Fables of ^sop. 
 
 1. 29. a wild ass. This simile, applied to Bentley, may have 
 been provoked by Boyle's charge that Bentley had applied the same 
 to him. As a fact, Bentley only likened the Sophist who wrote the 
 spurious Epistles, to an ass in a lion's skin. 
 
 225, 1. 15. not to draw too deep — a different lesson from that given 
 by Pope—' Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.' But Pope 
 uses ' deep ' in the sense of the ' large draughts ' of 1. 20. The depth 
 against which Swift warns is the profundity of pedantry. 
 
 1. 17. the one he could not distinguish. This is Boyle (see p. 226, 
 1. 13). Swift seems to hint that Boyle's personal part in the contest 
 was not a very prominent one. 
 
 1. 28. Pallas or Apollo, are. This wrong concord is not infrequent 
 in Swift. Cf. Vol. II. p. 339, 1. 9. 
 
 L'29. Oh mother! i.e. Criticism. See p. 216, 1. 15. 
 
 I.33. The first part of this prayer, the gods granted. This would 
 seem to shew, unlike the previous passage,., that Swift thought 
 Wotton had scored a point against Temple, albeit one so slight as to 
 be unnoticed by Temple himself. 
 
 226, 1. 6. the averted ancient— or rather, ' ally of the ancients.' 
 
 1. 12. the shape of . This doubtless refers to Atterbury, who 
 
 was Boyle's chief inspirer in his Examination of the Dissertation pub- 
 
NOTES, pp. 223-226. 435 
 
 lished in 1698. In a letter to Boyle of the same year, Atterbury very 
 bitterly resents the ingratitude and vanity of the youth, in failing to 
 recognise his help. ' In laying the design of the book, in writing 
 above half of it, in reviewing a good part of the rest, in transcribing 
 the whole, and attending the press, half a year of my life went away 
 ... No one expression has dropped from you that could give me 
 reason to believe that you had any opinion of what I had done, or 
 even took it kindly from me. . . You will easily, therefore, excuse me 
 if I meddle no further in a matter where my management has had 
 the ill-luck to displease you and a good friend of yours : whereas I 
 had the vanity to think and hope that it would have sat ill on nobody 
 but Mr. Wotton and Dr. Bentley.' 
 
 I. 17. by all the gods. By Atterbury, and others of his Oxford 
 friends. 
 
 1. 27. Philomela, the nightingale. 
 
 1. 34. with his own hands new polished and gilded— referring to 
 Boyle's edition of the Letters of Phalaris. 
 
 JOURNAL TO STELLA. 
 
 The series of letters, most of which take a journalistic form, and 
 which have come to be known by the general name of the Journal 
 to Stella, were published, in separate parts, by two different editors. 
 There are sixty-five letters in all ; and of these the last twenty-five 
 were published, in 1766, by Hawkesworth, while the preceding letters 
 were published by Mr. Deane Swift, a kinsman of the Dean's, in 1768. 
 Neither series was published exactly as written : but those issued by 
 Deane Swift were not only more seriously mutilated (if we may judge 
 from the absence of characteristic expressions which must have run 
 through the whole), but no means of correcting them was left, as the 
 originals have (except in the case of one letter) disappeared ; while 
 all those in Hawkesworth's possession (also with a single exception) 
 were deposited in the British Museum. Thus the originals of twenty- 
 five letters remain in the Museum : the first of the whole (published 
 by Deane Swift) and all of those published by Hawkesworth, except 
 the fifty- fourth. For the text of the extracts here given from the 
 twenty-five extant letters, the originals have been carefully collated : 
 but it must be noted that these originals have been considerably muti- 
 lated by erasures and changes, many of which appear to have been 
 made by the Dean himself, into whose possession the letters came 
 after Esther Johnson's death ; while others were probably made by 
 Hawkesworth, in preparing his text for publication. 
 
 F f 2 
 
43 6 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Neither Deane Swift nor Hawkesworth preserved with exactness 
 the ' little language ' of endearment and familiarity which Swift em- 
 ployed to-Esther Johnson. But while Hawkesworth varied from the 
 original very considerably, Deane Swift did so still more recklessly. 
 He substituted for it what were, in his opinion, more elegant or intel- 
 ligible expressions, and introduces, in particular, the names Stella 
 and Presto (for Esther Johnson and Swift) at a date when these 
 names were not used by either. Presto was, indeed, the Italian 
 equivalent for Swift's name, used, at a period late in the correspon- 
 dence, by the Italian wife of the Duke of Shrewsbury. In the extracts 
 here given from the later letters, some specimens of the ' little lan- 
 guage ' have been reproduced from the originals, so as to show exactly 
 its form. We may tell, with considerable certainty, what the sym- 
 bolical letters convey in each case. Ppt is Stella ; MD is Stella and 
 her companion, Mrs. Dingley ; Pdfr, or FR, or Podefar is Swift; and 
 D or DD is Dingley alone. Other symbols are evidently a repre- 
 sentation of a childish pronunciation of ordinary words. But to 
 attempt to guess exactly how the mystic letters come to have their 
 meaning, and how they are to be expanded, seems labour as super- 
 fluous as it is hopeless. When such language is adopted, it quickly 
 drifts away from the accident that gave it birth ; and an attempted 
 interpretation is a sort of trifling that does not help our enjoyment of 
 the letters, and would have been painful to those who used it. We 
 know enough when we know that Swift indulged in this kindly sport 
 with Stella : that he prattled, as his own words explain — ' In writing 
 our language, I make up my mouth just as if I were speaking it.' Our 
 enjoyment of the letters is mingled with some compunction about the 
 profanation of a confidential intimacy, betrayed by their publication : 
 but we need not further burden our conscience with the pedantry of 
 definition. 
 
 230, 1. i. Joe. This is Joseph Beaumont, a tradesman of Trim, 
 who had some inventive and literary proclivities. ' The grey old 
 fellow, poet Joe,' Swift calls him, in the poem On the house at Castle- 
 knock. He had some pecuniary claim on the Government for certain 
 inventions, and Swift was ready to use his influence to secure the 
 recognition of that claim. 
 
 1. 6. my lord-lieutenant. This was Swift's enemy, Lord Wharton, 
 soon to be replaced by the Duke of Ormond. 
 
 1. 9. Dr. Raymond, Vicar of Trim, a friend of Swift's. Raymond 
 seems to have been more careful of his own dignity in their inter- 
 course than were some of Swift's friends. ' The Reverend Doctor 
 Raymond ' appears in the poem quoted in the note on 1. i. Ray- 
 mond visited London while Swift was most closely engaged with 
 
NOTES, pp. 330-231. 437 
 
 politics, and Swift, who only admitted him on rare occasions, and 
 rather dreaded his tepeated calls, had twinges of conscience when 
 Raymond sent a message of thanks for his kindness. 
 
 I. 10. about levying a fine, in order to have power to sell their estate. 
 A fine was one method of breaking an entail. It was a mere form, 
 but was in theory a suit brought to an end by a compromise in court. 
 It was a judicial evasion of the Statute of Edward I, De donis, and 
 was abolished by an Act of William IV. Probably, in the present 
 case, the fine was resorted to in order to enable Mrs. Raymond to 
 alienate an estate, the rents of which would be receivable by her 
 husband, although he could not sell, while Mrs. Raymond was dis- 
 abled from doing so as a married woman. A compromise in court, 
 similar to that usual in the case of entails, gave a good title to the 
 purchaser. 
 
 I. 14. Bishop of Clogher. Dr. St. George Ashe, who afterwards 
 became Bishop of Derry. He had been Swift's tutor at Trinity 
 College, and he and his brother, Dilly Ashe — a somewhat easy- 
 going clergyman and inveterate punster — appear repeatedly in the 
 Journal. 
 
 1. 16. to my powers. The commission with which Swift was 
 entrusted by the Irish Bishops, for the recovery of the First Fruits. 
 To fulfil this commission was the prime object of his present visit to 
 England. 
 
 I.19. Bishop of Killala. Dr. William Lloyd, who appears to have 
 been occasionally one of Swift's circle of intimates. 
 
 1. 20. Bishop of Lichfield. Dr. John Hough, translated from the 
 diocese of Oxford, in 1699, to that of Lichfield. He played no in- 
 considerable part in the Revolution struggle, having been elected by 
 the Fellows of Magdalen College, Oxford, to the Presidency, in place 
 of the nominee of James II, and having maintained his position in 
 spite of the resistance of the Court. 
 
 1. 21. Steele. He was now Gazetteer. The Cockpit stood where 
 the Treasury buildings now stand. 
 
 1. 22. Lord Mountjoy was the son of one of William's generals, 
 and himself held a high position in the army. 
 
 231, 1. 2. Mrs. Wesley, the wife of Garret Wesley, an Irish friend 
 of Swift's. The family name of Wesley, or Wellesley, was closely 
 connected with Trim. 
 
 1. 6. Dearichar is Swift's word of endearment, which each reader 
 must interpret for himself. This, it will be remembered, is the only 
 one of the early letters of which the original is now preserved in the 
 British Museum. 
 
 1. 9. my commission. See note on p. 230, 1. 16. 
 
438 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 13. FW. = farewell. 
 
 1. 19. lay hold on me as a twig. In a letter of the same day to 
 Archbishop King, Swift says he is ' equally caressed by both parties— 
 by one as a sort of bough for drowning men to lay hold of, and by 
 the other as one discontented with the late men in power.' 
 
 1. 21. Lord-Treasurer, the Earl of Godolphin. His reception, 
 Swift says to King, ' was altogether short, dry, and morose.' 
 
 1. 24. Lady Giffard, the sister of Swift's patron, Sir William 
 Temple, with whom Swift had been on bad terms since the death of 
 Temple in 1699. The meaning of the next sentence is a little 
 obscure. Swift probably means that the hearsay as to Lady Giffard's 
 cultivation of the Court is confirmed by Lady Wharton's making that 
 cultivation the subject of her ridicule ; so he has lost a friend there, 
 i. e. he has an avowed enemy where a friend might have been. 
 
 1. 27. Stella's mother. The name of Stella was not really used by 
 Swift for Esther Johnson until after this date. Mrs. Johnson, her 
 mother, continued to reside in the Temple household. 
 
 1. 29. Archbishop of Dublin. Dr. William King, between whom 
 and Swift the relations were generally good, although they differed 
 widely in political opinion, and still more in temperament. Swift 
 often resented the arrogant tone which King, by virtue of his higher 
 position, was apt to assume. In later years a common detestation of 
 Walpole's government made their relations more cordial. 
 
 232, 1. 7. The Tatler, i. e. Steele, who was at this time issuing, with 
 considerable help from Swift, the Tatler paper. 
 
 1. 8. the Duke of Ormond was at this time the man of greatest 
 weight and position in the Tory party. Swift was not altogether 
 satisfied with his attitude towards the mission on which Swift was 
 engaged ; but occasional irritation was consistent with sincere respect 
 and regard. Ormond was named Lord-Lieutenant on the 19th of 
 October. 
 
 1. 10. Presto. This name, also, was not used until after this 
 date. We are told in the Journal for 2nd August, 1711, that the 
 Duchess of Shrewsbury (the daughter of the Marquis of Paleotti) 
 ' could not say my name in English, but said Dr. Presto, which is 
 Italian for Swift.' 
 
 1. 13. ride little Johnson. About this horse we find many direc- 
 tions in the Journal. It is not to be sold, if Stella wishes to ride it. 
 It may be pickled, rather, says Swift elsewhere. But it became 
 troublesome ; and rather than that Stella should run any risk, it is to 
 be got quit of at any sacrifice. 
 
 1. 21. Parvisol, a Frenchman, who acted as Swift's agent at 
 Laracor, often named in the Journal. 
 
NOTES, pp. 231-234. 439 
 
 1. 33. Jervas, the fashionable portrait-painter and friend of 
 Pope. This picture is now in the Bodleian at Oxford, to which 
 it was presented by Swift's friend and printer, Alderman Barber. 
 
 1. 26. the provost (of Trinity), Dr. Benjamin Pratt, now a Tory 
 and a friend of Swift, from whom his adherence to the Whigs, after 
 the accession of George I, alienated him. 
 
 1. 28. Jemmy Leigh, a proprietor in Westmeath, of whom Swift 
 says ' he loved London dearly ' — as, indeed, so many of his fellow- 
 proprietors did. 
 
 1. 31. the dean, i. c . the Dean of St. Patrick's, Dr. Sterne, whom 
 Swift succeeded when Sterne was promoted to the Bench as Bishop 
 of Dromore. 
 
 1- 33- Wharton (Earl, afterwards Marquis of) was now Lord 
 Lieutenant of Ireland, and was one whom Swift most cordially hated. 
 His bitter Whig partizanship was joined with notorious profligacy, 
 and this with a close, though hypocritical, attachment to Presby- 
 terianism. See note to p. 267, 1. 30. 
 
 Mrs. Walls. Archdeacon Walls, Rector of Castleknock, and his 
 wife were of Swift's most intimate circle in Ireland. He treated 
 them with a freedom which happily they did not resent. 
 
 233,1.5. all the world detesting his engaging in parties. The Tatter, 
 No. 193, ridiculing the devices of party intrigue in the name of the 
 stage prompter, Downes, was considered as written against the 
 schemes of Harley. The paper was written by Anthony Henley, of 
 whom we shall hear more (p. 246, 1. 7, note); and, strangely enough, 
 was laid to. the account of Swift, and imputed to him by the author 
 of the Political State (Boyer) as a proof of tergiversation. 
 
 1. 7. Lord Radnor, whose predecessor had been Lord-Lieutenant 
 of Ireland soon after the Restoration. See p. 306, 1. 3. 
 
 1. 15. Ben Tooke, a bookseller in London, who had already been 
 the medium of some of Swift's publications. Swift subsequently 
 obtained for him the post of publisher of the Gazette. 
 
 1. 28. Patrick, Swift's personal servant, whom he had brought 
 with him from Ireland, and whose drunkenness and inattention he 
 often resented, until at length, after many rebukes, and even physical 
 correction, Swift was compelled, after much endurance, to part 
 with him. 
 
 234, 1. 5. Mr. Ford. Charles Ford, of Woodpark, near Dublin, a 
 member of Swift's inner circle. He was on intimate terms with 
 Pope, Gay, Arbuthnot, Prior, and Parnell, and it was he who arranged 
 for the publication of some of the most important of Swift's political 
 tracts, and who subsequently (in 1726) conveyed to the printer the 
 Gulliver MS. As Gazetteer at the close of Queen Anne's reign, 
 
440 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 he had opportunities of noting the progress of political events, and 
 his letters afford information as to the intrigues which surrounded the 
 Queen's deathbed. 
 
 1. 6. Lord President, i. e. Lord Somers, with whom Swift's rela- 
 tions had formerly been so cordial as to lead to the flattering dedica- 
 tion of the Tale of a Tub. 
 
 1. 19. Colonel Freind. This may have been a kinsman of Swift's 
 intimate friends, Dr. Robert Freind, of Westminster School, and 
 Dr. John Freind, the physician. But it is more likely to have 
 been a misprint for ' Froud ' or ' Frowde,' a literary aspirant in- 
 troduced by Addison to Swift, and the author of two forgotten 
 tragedies. 
 
 1. 20. the million lottery. Lotteries had been resorted to in 
 England, as a means of raising the public revenue, both in the 16th 
 and the 17th centuries. Private lotteries were prohibited by Act of 
 Parliament in 1696: but in 1709, the practice was systematically 
 established of using public lotteries, with the authority of Parliament, 
 as sources of revenue. Swift and Addison thus assisted at a drawing 
 very early after the beginning of a vicious system destined to con- 
 tinue for more than a century until its final abolition in 1823. In the 
 Tatler for July 27th, Steele moralizes on the same subject, having just 
 been present at the first drawing. He speaks of Swift's ' jackanapes 
 of Blue Coat boys,' as ' ' the impartial and equal dispensers of the 
 fortunes which were to be distributed to the crowd.' 
 
 1. 23. a country-house near Chelsea, where Mr. Addison often retires. 
 Not Holland House, to the owner of which, Lady Warwick, Addison 
 was not married until 1716 ; but a house which had formerly belonged 
 to Nell Gwyn, and which Addison then occupied. 
 
 1. 25. Sir Simon Harcourt is made lord keeper. Harcourt did not 
 succeed Cowper until Oct. 19th. 
 
 235, 1. 4. a great deal of china. But a few weeks later, Swift tells 
 us, the fancy had passed. ' I took a fancy of resolving to grow mad 
 for it, but now it is off.' Swift's aesthetic fancies did not last long. 
 
 1. 6. Sir John Holland, as a Whig, had been one of the 
 managers for the Commons in the impeachment of Dr. Sacheyerell. 
 He was replaced subsequently, as Comptroller, by Sir Thomas 
 Mansel. 
 
 1. 12. Mr. Stratford, an old friend and schoolfellow of Swift, 
 carrying on business in London as a Hamburg merchant. He assisted 
 Swift in investments, but his own speculations before long brought 
 him to bankruptcy. 
 
 1. 14. a letter to the Tatler. This is the Tatler, No. 230, of 28th 
 Sept. 1710. Jn it Swift inveighs equally against the slipshod and the 
 
NOTES, pp. 234-237. 441 
 
 affected style. What he desires to see is ' that simplicity which is the 
 best and truest ornament of most things in life ' : and he adduces as 
 models of style, Hooker and Parsons the Jesuit, whom he compares 
 with the more ornate writers of the Jacobean age, to the disadvantage 
 of these last. 
 
 1. 17. The Duke of Devonshire belonged to the Whig party. In 
 the Characters of the Court of Queen Anne, written by Macky, the duke 
 is described as ' the finest and handsomest gentleman of his time 
 of nice honour in everything but the paying of his tradesmen.' We 
 have Swift's MS. notes on this book : and he adds to this character 
 the words, ' A very poor understanding.' 
 
 1. 21. the Duke's daughters. The Ladies Butler, daughters of 
 the Duke of Ormond. Of them, and their friendship for Swift, we 
 hear much in the Journal— especially on the death of one of them, 
 the Lady Ashburnham. See p. 317, 1. 5. ' When I lived in England,' 
 says Swift in a letter to Miss Hoadley, dated 4th June 1734, ' once 
 every year I issued out an edict, commanding that all ladies of wit, 
 sense, merit, and quality, who had an ambition to be acquainted with 
 me, should make the first advances at their peril : which edict, you 
 may believe, "was universally obeyed.' 
 
 1. 24. Lord Somers was replaced by the Earl of Rochester : the 
 Duke of Devonshire by the Duke of Buckingham : and Mr. Boyle by 
 Henry St. John. Godolphin's dismissal, as Lord Treasurer, had 
 preceded these changes ; and his place as chief of the Ministry, though 
 as yet with lower office, had been taken by Robert Harley. 
 
 236, 1. 6. Madrid taken and Pampeluna. These barren successes in 
 Spain had been gained by General Stanhope, a strong adherent of the 
 Whig party, whose victories were distrusted by the Tories. 
 
 1. 15. Molesworth, now Envoy to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, 
 succeeded in 1723 as Viscount Molesworth, and died the same year. 
 
 1. 18. a penny-post letter. The penny post, for London and its 
 suburbs, had been established in 1685, as a. private undertaking. 
 James II, who, as Duke of York, held the revenues of the Post Office, 
 raised an objection to this as an infringement of the Government 
 monopoly : and the penny post was subsequently carried on as a 
 Government business, although quite separate from the General Post, 
 with which it was not amalgamated until 1854. 
 
 1. 27. Manley (Isaac), Postmaster in Ireland, was in danger of 
 losing his place on account of his Whig bias, and was only preserved 
 by the efforts of well-affected friends and kinsmen. 
 
 237, 1. 5. part of a lampoon. This is the Virtues of Sid Hamet the 
 Magician's Rod, written against Godolphin and his tenure of the Rod 
 of Lord Treasurer. 
 
442 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 10. Will Frankland, a son of Sir T. Frankland, the Postmaster- 
 General of Great Britain. For the father Swift had great respect, 
 and with the son he seems to have been on very easy terms. William 
 Frankland was a Receiver in the Stamp Office. 
 
 1. 13. Morgan. This seems to be Marcus Antonius Morgan, of 
 whose 'heathenish name ' Swift speaks. He was now steward to the 
 Bishop of Kildare, and was afterwards named, as a member of the 
 Irish Parliament, in the Legion Club. 
 
 I. 22. Mr. Warburton. Swift's curate at Laracor. 
 . 1. 30. a Tatler. See p. 235, 1. 14 (note). 
 
 1. 31. Mr. Sterne. Enoch Sterne, Collector of Wicklow, and 
 Clerk to the Irish House of Lords. 
 
 238, 1 2. nothing vexes me but that it does not make Stella a coward 
 in a coach. This is a little obscure. We may suppose that Stella 
 said she saved coach-hire, and was pleased not to be a coward in a 
 coach. ' But that is just what I want her to be,' says Swift ; ' and so 
 I am vexed at just what pleases her.' Curiously enough , Swift, in 
 the Character of Mrs. Johnson, says ' She was never known to cry 
 out, or discover any fear, in a coach ' — no small praise, considering 
 what Irish roads then were. 
 
 1. 5. Dr. Cockbum, a physician whom Swift often consulted, and 
 whose society he enjoyed, except when he met ' a parcel of Scots ' at 
 his house. 
 
 1. 6. Mr. Harley. The first mention of any personal connexion 
 between Swift and Harley. See p. 240, 1. 15. 
 
 1. 13. eight shillings • at a moderate computation about one-tenth 
 of what Swift would have had to pay at the present day. 
 
 1. 16. my instrument. The letter of authority given to Swift by 
 the Irish bishops. 
 
 1. 19. premunire. Not an infrequent usage of the legal phrase 
 last century, in the sense of a penalty incurred. Cf. Smollett's Hum- 
 phry Clinker, ' I brought myself into a premunire with the disputatious 
 Caledonian.' 
 
 1. 26. Lewis. Erasmus Lewis, under-secretary to the Earl of 
 Dartmouth, one of the two Secretaries of State. He was one of 
 Swift's closest and most trusted intimates, and is mentioned in almost 
 every letter. 
 
 239, 1. 8. Darleneuf, or Dartqueneuf, the celebrated epicure, who 
 wrote No. 252 of the Tatler, in praise of wine. ' The man that knows 
 everything, and that everybody knows,' is Swift's description of him 
 elsewhere. 
 
 1. 12. Delaval : Captain Gregory Delaval. 
 
 1. 13. Lord Halifax. Charles Montagu, author of the City Mouse 
 
notes, pp. 337-241. 443 
 
 and Country Mouse, and of an answer to Dryden's Hind and Panther. 
 He was one ofWilliam's ablest ministers, and a noted literary patron, 
 although Swift doubted the sincerity of his professions of good will. 
 
 I. 16. Methuen, afterwards Sir Paul Methuen, who, as ambassador 
 to Portugal, arranged the Methuen treaty. He was now one of the 
 Lords of the Admiralty. ' A man of intrigue, but very muddy in 
 his conceptions, and not quickly understood in anything. In his com- 
 plexion and manners much of a Spaniard,' is the picture of him in 
 Macky's Characters (note on p. 235, 1. 17) : on which Swift's MS. 
 comment is ' A profligate rogue, without religion or morals : but 
 cunning enough, yet without abilities of any kind.' 
 
 1. 29. Earl Berkeley, Swift's early patron, probably the same 
 who told Swift that his ' mind was like a conjured spirit, that would 
 do mischief if I did not give it employment.' He had retained his 
 friendship sufficiently to beg Swift to visit him in his last illness. He 
 was Earl from 1698. 
 
 240, 1. 8. Lord Dartmouth, now Secretary of State. See p. 261, 1. 26 
 (note). 
 
 1. 19. Nic. Rowe, with whom, although a Whig, Swift seems 
 to have been on cordial terms, and whom he recommended to the 
 patronage of the Government. 
 
 1. 30. that to Morgan. See p. 237, 1. 16. Stella, it seems, forgot 
 the commission after all. 
 
 241, 1. 2. the giver's bread. In allusion, probably, to the Scriptural 
 injunction, ' Cast thy bread upon the waters,' &c. Swift is frequently 
 inexact in his Bible quotations. 
 
 1. 6. Kneller (Sir Godfrey). There was a project of his painting 
 Swift's portrait. See p. 267, 1. 18. 
 
 1. 3. a Colt, a Stanhope. Sir Henry Dutton Colt and General 
 Stanhope stood in the Whig interest for Westminster, but were 
 defeated by the Tory candidates, Medlicot and Cross. 
 
 1. 11. Sir Andrew Fountaine, of Norfolk, a very intimate friend of 
 Swift, who had been concerned in the preparation of the 1709 edition 
 of the Tale of a Tub with the Apology. 
 
 1. 13. Will Pate, said to have studied at Cambridge, although he 
 appears not to have taken a degree. In spite of his employment as 
 a tradesman, he preserved such an interest in letters as earned for 
 him this nickname. ' A bel esprit and a woollen-draper,' Swift calls him 
 elsewhere. He was a patron of men of letters, and seems to have 
 travelled in Italy. See Aitken's Life and Works ofArbuthnot, p. 7 (note). 
 
 1. 27. for fear they should be insolent. As the October Club, formed 
 of the extreme Tories, who desired to push matters to desperate 
 lengths against the Whigs, proved they might become. 
 
444 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 242, 1. 8. Jack How, the most virulent of the Tory partizans, who 
 had been one of the movers in the factious opposition to William's 
 ministers, attacked by Swift in the Dissensions in Athens and Rome. 
 See also p. 172, I. 4. He was now Paymaster of the Forces. 
 
 1. 19. Lord Doblane, i. e. Viscount Dupplin, son of the Earl of 
 Kinnoull. He was married to a daughter of Harley. 
 
 1. so. Will Penn the Quaker, well known as the founder of Penn- 
 sylvania. No man played stranger and more incongruous parts in 
 history. A staunch sectary, he refused to shew outward respect to 
 crowned heads ; yet enjoyed the friendship of Charles II, James II, 
 and Queen Anne, and was at once the friend of William and of John 
 Locke, and accused of Jacobite intrigue. 
 
 1. 34. St. James's Coffeehouse. The resort of the Whigs, as the Cocoa 
 Tree and the Ozinda tavern were of the Tories. Swift's being set 
 down by the Tory minister at the Whig house is another proof that 
 Swift, so far from seeking an alliance with the Tories, continued to 
 maintain an ostensible alliance with the Whigs long after he disliked 
 their opinions — even though such an alliance was opposed to his own 
 interest. 
 
 243, 1. 4. He knew my christian name very well. Cf. p. 279, 1. 23. 
 1. 5. fatal = decreed by fate, as Dryden says, 'beauty still is fatal 
 
 to thy line.' 
 
 1. 8. a ballad, i. e. Sid Hamefs Rod. 
 
 1. 10. blind chophouse, i.e. an obscure chophouse, hidden away 
 in a back alley. Cf. p. 254, 1. 8. 
 
 1. 13. a Tatler. No. 238, with the verses on a City Shower. 
 
 1. 17. the you know what. Scott supposes this to refer to the Tale 
 of a Tub. But I confess to a doubt whether Swift would make such 
 a reference to his early work. 
 
 244, 1. 24. attorney-general; in a few days to be Lord Keeper. 
 1. 29. a governor, i. e. lord-lieutenant of Ireland. 
 
 245, 1. 11. Dr. Garth. Samuel Garth had published the Dispensary 
 in 1699. He was a strong Whig, and was the prominent Whig 
 physician, as Dr. Radcliffe was the choice of the Tories : but his 
 political opinions did not prevent his retaining the friendship of many 
 on the other side. Cf. History of John Bull in Aitken's Arbuthnot's 
 Life and Works, p. 250. 
 
 1. 12. the Devil Tavern was a tavern of note as a place of literary 
 resort from the days of Ben Jonson downwards. It was, indeed, as 
 closely associated with the name of Jonson, as Will's was with that 
 of Dryden, or Button's with that of Addison. It was close to Temple 
 Bar, and from the neighbourhood of St. Dunstan's Church had 
 originally been named St. Dunstan's Tavern. But the signboard 
 
NOTES, pp. 243-247. 445 
 
 shewed the familiar scene of St. Dunstan seizing the Devil's nose 
 with his tongs ; and the saint's name was accordingly replaced in 
 popular parlance by that of the Devil. The chief room was called 
 the Apollo, and the rules of the Society that met there were set up 
 over the chimney in letters of gold. See Tatter, No. 79. 
 
 1. 16. Mr. Addison's election, for Malmesbury. Addison seems to 
 have been a member both of the English and of the Irish House of 
 Parliament at the same time. 
 
 1. 20. the Shower, which was published in the Taller, No. 238. 
 
 1. 22. / have printed but three. These were the Tatter, No. 230 ; 
 Sid Hamefs Rod; and a ballad on the Westminster election, men- 
 tioned on p. 250, 1. 20. That ballad is lost. 
 
 246, 1. 1. Harrison, of whom we shall hear much more, down to 
 his sad death on the 14th of Feb. 1712. (See p. 321.) He was born 
 in 1685, and was now fresh from Oxford. Recommended to Swift 
 by Addison, he was soon, by Swift's interest, to obtain what ought 
 to have been lucrative employment. Some of his poems appear in 
 the collections of the day. 
 
 1. 7. Henley, i. e. Anthony Henley, of the Grange, Hampshire, a 
 well-known Whig and patron of Art and Letters, to whom Garth 
 dedicated the Dispensary. He moved an address to the Queen for 
 the promotion of Dr. Hoadley — which would not tend to recommend 
 him to Swift. He died in August, 171 1. His son became Lord 
 Chancellor and Earl of Northington. 
 
 1. 17. Ned Southwell. This was the son of Sir Robert Southwell, 
 Secretary of State for Ireland, to whom Swift, in his early days, had 
 been recommended by Sir William Temple, who was a friend of 
 Southwell. Edward Southwell, the son, was now in London, as 
 Clerk of the Council, and he seems to have been specially charged 
 with Irish business, and to have acted as Secretary to the Duke of 
 Ormond. 
 
 1. 32. Mrs. Barton, a niece of Sir Isaac Newton, and, in spite of 
 her Whig sympathies, a great favourite with Swift. She was one of 
 the toasts of the Kit-Cat Club. She was afterwards married to a 
 Mr. Conduit, who succeeded Newton as Master of the Mint. ' I love 
 her,' says Swift elsewhere, ' better than any one here, and see her 
 seldomer.' 
 
 247, 1. 1. Dawson, Clerk to the Lords Justices, who exercised the 
 powers of the Lord-Lieutenant, during his absence. Dawson Street 
 in Dublin takes its name from him. 
 
 1 2 Patty Rolt, an Irish lady of Swift's acquaintance, now stay- 
 ing in London. ' Poor Patty Rolt,' Swift calls her once or twice : 
 and he was obliged occasionally to supply her lack of money. 
 
446 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 3. Lady Berkeley. See p. 239, 1. 29 (note). 
 
 1. 17. Revolutions a hindrance to me in my business. Observe how 
 Stella shared the common view that Swift was still a Whig, and un- 
 likely to have any influence with the Tories. The same idea is 
 found in Archbishop King's letters to Swift. 
 
 I. 29. my lampoon, i. e. Sid Harness Rod. 
 
 1. 32. that is Ae=Lord Godolphin, satirized as Sid Hamet. 
 
 248, 1. 7. Mr. Prior. Matthew Prior was one of those whose wit 
 and literary power were as highly valued by Swift as they were by 
 St. John and by Pope. Swift afterwards wrote a mock account of 
 Prior's mission to France in connexion with the Peace, which Prior 
 did not altogether relish. 
 
 1. 13. Lord Peterborough. One of the men of most brilliant and 
 versatile genius of the age, whose abilities were marred by his erratic 
 character. He belonged, indeed, rather to the type of the knight- 
 errant of the Middle Ages, than to the prosaic age of Queen Anne. 
 The sympathy between him and Swift was immediate and lasting. 
 He possessed the keen wit, if not the literary gifts, of Bolingbroke ; 
 and was free from the affectation which lessened the admiration with 
 which Bolingbroke was regarded by Swift. See Swift's verses on 
 him in Vol. II. of this collection. 
 
 1. 24. a secret only to you — only, that is, revealed to you. 
 
 1. 27. Lord President (of the Court of Session) of Scotland. This 
 was Hew Dalrymple of North Berwick. 
 
 Mr. Benson. Robert Benson was now one of the Lords of the 
 Treasury, and became Chancellor of the Exchequer when Harley 
 became Lord Treasurer. 
 
 1. 28. the Smyrna. This tavern was in Pall Mall, opposite Marl- 
 borough House, and was a noted resort of gossip-mongers. 
 
 249, 1. 12. Mrs. Curry's, at whose house in Dublin Swift lodged. 
 
 1. 13. Dr. Hawkshaw. A gentleman of Dublin, who seems to 
 have had some management of Swift's money affairs. 
 
 250, 1. 4. Mrs. Vanhomrigh, the mother of Hester Vanhomrigh, 
 known as the Vanessa to Swift's Cadenus. This is the first mention 
 of the family. But henceforward they are constantly named, and 
 Swift's visits to them are announced without reserve. It may be as 
 well at once to dispose of the fiction that the Vanessa friendship ever 
 interfered with that for Stella. It was a delusion indulged in, with 
 fatal results, by the young woman, for whom Swift had no more than 
 a kindly interest. It has been asserted, without grounds, that the 
 Journal loses its warmth of affection and becomes more stiff, after 
 this Vanhomrigh friendship became fully established. It is true that 
 after May, 1712, the letters are much interrupted, and lose their 
 
NOTES, pp. 247-253. 447 
 
 journalistic form for some months. But this was owing entirely to the 
 severe illness from which Swift then suffered : and after that was 
 past, the letters resume their old form, and their old kindliness 
 of tone. 
 
 1. 5. the two Lady Butlers. See p. 235, 1. 21 (note). 
 
 1. 11. Wortley Montagu. A Whig member of Parliament, cousin 
 of Lord Halifax. He was afterwards ambassador at Constantinople, 
 and is best remembered as the husband of the brilliant Lady Mary 
 Wortley Montagu, the friend — and enemy — of Pope. 
 
 1. 20. a ballad . . . on the Westminster election — now lost. 
 
 1. 33. Earl of Sterling. Henry Alexander, 5th Earl of Stirling, 
 whose sister was Lady Judith Trumbull, the wife of Sir William 
 Trumbull, Pope's friend and early patron. 
 
 251, 1. 26. a Tatler . . . against Mr. Harley. See p. 233, 1. 5 (note). 
 
 1. 32. Sir Matthew Dudley, now one of the Commissioners of the 
 Customs. He was a Whig, and a close friend of Godolphin, and was 
 consequently supposed to be in danger of losing his place, as soon as 
 the Tory ministers were strong enough to clear out all their adversaries 
 from office. Swift more than once interceded on his behalf, but he 
 had to go in January, 1712. 
 
 252, 1. 4. we parted very dryly. This meeting must have been bit- 
 terly painful to both men, who looked back on the most affectionate 
 intimacy. What Addison thought of Swift is recorded in the inscrip- 
 tion of a copy of his Travels in Italy, given to ' Dr. Jonathan Swift, 
 the most agreeable Companion, the Truest Friend, and the Greatest 
 Genius of his Age.' Addison, in his present conduct, can scarcely be 
 acquitted of carelessness of the interests of Steele, and an uncharitable 
 estimate of Swift's motives. Cf. p. 269, 1. 31. 
 
 1. 20. Molesworth. See p. 236, 1. 15 (note). 
 253, 1. 1. Lord Berkeley of Stratton, who belonged to a branch of the 
 family of Earl Berkeley. His father had been created Lord B. of 
 Stratton, for his services to the Royalist party. He was now Chan- 
 cellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. 
 
 1. 2. Mrs. Temple, probably the widow of Sir William Temple's 
 son. 
 
 1. 5. Mons. Sartre. The Rev. J. Sartre, formerly French pastor 
 at Montpelier, and now Prebendary and Archdeacon of Westminster. 
 His wife was Dorothy Addison. 
 
 1. 11. Mr. Congreve. The dramatist was one for whose work 
 and person Swift had always sincere regard, which years did not 
 diminish. In 1693, Swift addressed one of his early poems to Con- 
 greve, whose schoolfellow he had been ; and when Congreve died in 
 1728, Swift's grief was bitter and sincere. ' I loved him from my 
 
448 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 youth,' he says. ' Years have not yet hardened me ; and I have an 
 addition of weight on my spirits since we lost him.' The love was 
 not lessened even by Congreve's degrading dependence, in his de- 
 clining years, on the Duchess of Marlborough — the daughter of Swift's 
 old foe. 
 
 254, 1. 2. under secretary. Rowe was now Under-Secretary to the 
 Duke of Queensberry, Secretary of State for Scotland. 
 
 1. 8. blind tavern. Cf. p. 243, 1. io (note). 
 
 1. 9. Sir Richard Temple, Lieutenant-General — ' the greatest 
 Whig in the army,' says Swift, in recording his dismissal in 1713,. 
 when the Government were proceeding to greater extremities against 
 the opposite party. 
 
 Eastcourt, or Estcourt, an actor and playwright, noted as an 
 amusing boon companion. Cf. p. 279, 1. 6. 
 
 1. 10. Charles Main, an Irish gentleman, in employment near the 
 Tower. 'An honest good-natured fellow,' says Swift elsewhere; 'a 
 thorough hearty laugher, mightily beloved by the men of wit.' 
 
 1. 16. hedge tavern. So Swift speaks elsewhere of a ' hedge ale- 
 house ' and of ' a hedge lodging.' It is a word of contempt, for some- 
 thing the lowest of its kind. 
 
 1. 19. Lord Pembroke, the great patron of art, whose admission 
 as a member of the French Academy is afterwards recorded by Swift. 
 He had made Swift's acquaintance when Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland 
 in 1708. 
 
 1. 25. Ford. See p. 234, 1. 5 (note). 
 
 1. 28. at a terrible loss about money. The Whigs were thought to 
 be strongest in the City, and amongst the monied, as opposed to the 
 landed, classes ; and the fall in public securities was laid to their 
 account. But the result of the elections in the City did not prove the 
 Whigs to be strongest there : and in any case, we might well doubt 
 that power of affecting the public credit, according to their party 
 feelings, with which they were credited. Whatever the reason, 
 undoubtedly the accession of Harley to power, and the consequent 
 expectation of a Peace, were accompanied by a serious depression in 
 public stock. 
 
 255, 1. 3. Lord Mountjoy. See p. 230, 1. 22 (note). 
 
 1. 20. the first day of it with us. This refers to the private under- 
 standing, repeatedly noted in the Journal, by which the financial 
 year of Swift, Stella, and Mrs. Dingley, ended on November 1, 
 when their accounts were balanced. 
 
 256, 1. 9. Vanbrugh. Sir John Vanbrugh had been the object of 
 Swift's satire, in two short poems : one in which he is said to have 
 borrowed his architectural designs from the child's castle of cards and 
 
notes, pp. 253-257. 449 
 
 the schoolboys' mud-walls, and from these to have constructed his 
 house at Whitehall — 
 
 ' Such a monstrous pile, 
 That no two chairmen could be found 
 Able to lift it from the ground.' 
 The other poem ridiculed his dramatic attempts, as borrowed from 
 
 the French, and found both in his dramas and his buildings 
 
 ' A- typ e °f modern wit and style, 
 The rubbish of an ancient pile.' 
 In allusion to Vanbrugh's appointment as architect of Blenheim and 
 Comptroller of Public Works, Swift speaks of him as ' Vitruvius the 
 Second.' Swift seems afterwards to have modified his adverse 
 opinion, and he and Vanbrugh were on good terms, although the 
 architect-dramatist naturally resented the poems. 
 
 1. 16. Buckingham. For a story of Swift's relations to him, see 
 p. 289, 1. 11. John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, Marquis of Normanby, 
 and Duke of Buckingham, ' Very proud, insolent, and covetous, and 
 takes all advantages. In paying his debts, unwilling : neither esteemed 
 nor beloved.' (Macky's Characters of Q. Anne's Court.) ' This cha- 
 racter,' adds Swift in MS., ' is the truest of any.' His Essay on 
 Satire, and that On Poetry, in verse, had early given him a consider- 
 able literary reputation : and he added to this by various prose 
 writings — including some on philosophy, filled with that arrogant 
 latitudinarianism which was one of the vices of the time, and which 
 is embodied in the pretentious epitaph in Westminster, composed by 
 himself, and invoking the Deity under the title of ' Ens Entium.' 
 His literary facility, and perhaps still more his high station, ob- 
 tained for him the lavish flattery of Dryden, in whose Absalom 
 and Achitophel he appears as ' Sharp-judging Adriel, the Muses' 
 friend.' He had now succeeded the Duke of Devonshire as Lord 
 Steward. 
 
 Rochester was now Lord President, having succeeded Lord 
 Somers. 
 
 Leeds. The Duke of Leeds was so closely allied to Harley, 
 that his son, the Marquis of Carmarthen, soon after married Harley's 
 daughter. 
 
 1. 17. Shrewsbury was now Lord Chamberlain. See p. 289, 1. 7 
 (note). 
 
 1. 25. the Portugal envoy. Gregory Delaval. 
 1. 26. Admiral Wager. Sir Charles Wager, named again on 
 p. 266, 1. 1. 
 
 257, 1. 18. the dean, i. e. Dean Sterne of St. Patrick's. 
 
 1. 30. Dr. Freind. Dr. John Freind, the physician, who, as well 
 VOL. I. G g 
 
450 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 as his brother, Dr. Robert Freind of Westminster School, was an in- 
 timate of Swift's. He accompanied Peterborough on his Spanish 
 expedition of 1705, and wrote the account of it here named. He was 
 a Tory, and one of Sacheverell's defenders. 
 
 258, 1. 8. / do not reckon so very good. St. John's praise is certainly 
 overdone, and might seem to Swift insincere. The poem has little of 
 Swift's best manner. 
 
 1. 12. hardly thirty. St. John was born in 1678, and was now 
 over 32. He had been Secretary for War three years before. Swift 
 makes the same comparison in a later passage in the Journal, ' I have 
 often thought what a splutter Sir William Temple made about being 
 Secretary of State : I think Mr. St. John the greatest young man 
 I ever knew.' 
 
 1. 13. His father was Sir Henry St. John, a well-known man 
 about town. He was the representative of a family which had 
 become distinguished in the reign of Elizabeth. Curiously enough, 
 he was created Viscount St. John, in 1716, after his famous son had 
 not only won the same honour, as Viscount Bolingbroke, but had 
 suffered attainder on the charge of treason. 
 
 1. 28. penny-post letter. See p. 236, 1. 18 (note). 
 259, 1. 13. Mrs. Long, of whom we shall hear more. See p. 302, 
 1. 31 (note). 
 
 1. 18. Mrs. Raymond. The wife of the Vicar of Trim, who 
 seems, like her husband, to have been a neighbour whose society 
 Swift did not relish. 
 
 Sir Richard Levinge had suffered for his anti-Whig opinions 
 when Wharton was Lord-Lieutenant, and was afterwards Lord Chief 
 Justice of Ireland. 
 
 1. 25. Lady Falconbridge : this was Mary Cromwell, a lady of 
 abilities which were not shared by Cromwell's male representative. 
 
 1. 31. fallen thirty-four in the hundred. Swift makes the oscilla- 
 tion in public credit larger than it is represented in the Political State 
 for January 17U (two months after this). It is there stated that at 
 the dismissal of Lord Sunderland (in June) Bank Stock stood at 124, 
 and on the 1st of Nov. it had fallen to 95^. 
 
 260, 1. 24. Rathburn, to whom some of Stella's money seems to have 
 been advanced at interest, on the security of some house-property. 
 
 1. 27. Paaaaast twelvwe o'clock. Meant to represent (as else- 
 where) the droning cry of the watchman on his rounds. . 
 261, 1. 19. the Smyrna. See p. 248, 1. 29 (note). / 
 
 1. 26. Lord Dartmouth. William I.egge, Lord Dartmouth, had 
 become Secretary of State on the dismissal of Lord Sunderland. 
 ' He sets up,' says Macky, ' for a critic in conversation, makes jests 
 
NOTES, pp. 257-265. 45l 
 
 and loves to laugh at them : takes a great deal of pains in his office.' 
 To this character Swift adds, ' This is fair enough writ : but he has 
 little sincerity.' 
 
 1. 28. Lord Orrery. This was the same Charles Boyle whose 
 edition of the Letters of Phalaris was one of the proximate causes of 
 Bentley's Dissertation, and the Battle of the Books. He was soon 
 after appointed Envoy to the States-General. 
 
 262, I. 5. Domville. William Domville, a landed proprietor in 
 County Dublin, who was about to pay a visit to London, on his way 
 to foreign travel. ' Perfectly as fine a gentleman as I know,' Swift 
 says of him elsewhere. 
 
 1. 9. Walls. See p. 232, 1. 31 (note). 
 
 1. 12. old doings. A colloquial phrase. Cf. p. 287, 1. 33, ' an old 
 to-do.' 
 
 1. 14. Ned Southwell. See p. 246, 1. 17 (note). 
 
 1. 19. Bishop of Kildare. Dr. W. Ellis, Bishop from 1705 to 1731, 
 and no favourite with Swift. 
 
 1. 24. as one that was favoured by the other party. Another proof 
 of the general but mistaken view that Swift was in close sympathy 
 with the Whigs. 
 
 1. 26. the wisdom of this is admirable, is, of course, sarcastic. The 
 correspondence, which is preserved, fully bears out Swift's account. 
 
 264,1.9. Bromley William Bromley, member for Oxford University, 
 was the chosen advocate of the Church, and his unanimous election 
 indicated clearly the strength of the Church party in the House. 
 
 1. 11. Colonel Hill. The brother of Mrs. Masham, who had dis- 
 placed the Duchess of Marlborough in the favour of the Queen. We 
 shall hear more of him in the Journal. He was sent the following 
 year with the ill-fated expedition to Quebec, and was subsequently 
 appointed Governor of Dunkirk. 
 
 1. 22. Court of Requests. This was a Court of Equity, inferior to 
 Chancery, and presided over by the Lord Privy Seal. It seems to 
 have begun in the reign of Henry VII ; its jurisdiction was impugned 
 by a decision of the Court of Common Pleas in Elizabeth's reign : and 
 it was abolished by statute in the reign of Charles I. The room in 
 which it was held was called the Camera Alba or Whitehall. Hence 
 the present name of the Government buildings, and the room desig- 
 nated by Swift seems then to have retained the old name. 
 265, 1. 10. Lord Halifax. See p. 239, 1. 13 (note). 
 
 1. 17. involved with the present ministry, &c. Swift was now in 
 the secrets of the Ministry, who looked to him for a statement of 
 their case to the. public, and who, he says elsewhere, ' consider me a 
 little more than Irish bishops do.' 
 
 Gg 2 
 
452 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 28. in a Tatler, that we ought to use the word Great Britain. In 
 No. 241. The Tatler in Which the letter was unwarrantably pub- 
 lished was No. 258. 
 
 266, 1. 1. Wager. See p. 256, 1. 26. 
 
 1. 31. Raymond, Vicar of Trim, was now, to Swift's tribulation, 
 in London, and had either to be escorted by Swift, or passed on (as 
 was oftenest the case) to other friends to be ' shewn the town.' 
 
 267, 1. j.. Sir John Stanley, was Commissioner of Customs. His 
 wife, Lady Stanley, ' is,' says Swift, ' one of my favourites.' 
 
 1. 18. Sir Godfrey Kneller. See p. 241, 1. 6. 
 
 1. 30. libellous pamphlet . . . against Lord Wharton. This was 
 Swift's own Character of the Earl of Wharton. Archbishop King, in 
 his correspondence with Swift, and perhaps guessing the author, 
 attacks in strong terms the licence of writing which the author allows 
 himself. Probably no one provoked Swift's detestation more than 
 Wharton. * The most universal villain I ever knew ' are the words 
 which Swift adds to his Character in Macky. The pamphlet now 
 referred to is one of the bitterest Swift ever wrote. 
 
 268, I.4. They say it is at Newcastle. But it was ' a false report,' as 
 Swift tells us a few days later. Swift was at all times very nervous 
 about infection. 
 
 1. 19. Presto's . . . birthday. November 30th! 
 
 1. 21. Rediculous. Cf. a similar correction on p. 257, 1. 9 ; and in 
 a later letter (not in this selection) Swift gives a list of more than a 
 dozen misspellings which Stella must avoid. 
 
 1. 23. author of the Atalantis. This was Mrs. Manley, whose col- 
 lection of scandal, published under the name of the Atalantis, was 
 nearly the subject of a criminal prosecution. She was employed by 
 Swift in some political hackwork, and little as she deserved respect, 
 his judgment on her was not unkindly. ' She has very generous 
 principles for one of her sort : a great deal of good sense and inven- 
 tion : about forty, very homely, and very fat.' But this did not 
 prevent him from attacking her severely in ' Corinna, » Ballad.' 
 
 269, 1. 3. Lord Dupplin. Swift has now got the right spelling. See 
 p. 242, 1. 19. 
 
 1. 7. Lord Rivers. Richard Savage, Earl Rivers, best remembered 
 by the tragic history of Richard Savage, the poet, his illegitimate son 
 by Lady Macclesfield, whose story has been told so powerfully by 
 Johnson. Lord Rivers was one of the first military men to join the 
 standard of the Prince of Orange, and served with him in several 
 campaigns. He joined a reputation for ability with that of a noted 
 rake. ' I loved the man, but hate his memory,' says Swift, after his 
 death in 1712. He was now Constable of the Tower, and Envoy to 
 
NOTES, pp. 265-273. 453 
 
 Hanover ; and afterwards succeeded Marlborough as Master of 
 Ordnance. 
 
 I. 13. another bite. As we should say, a hoax; or, as Scott inter- 
 prets it in the slang of three generations ago, a quiz. 
 
 1. 26. Sam. Dapping, an Irish friend. 
 270, 1. i. you jest about poor Congreve's eyes. One of a few instances 
 in which Stella made the grave mistake of jesting on a subject that 
 lay close to Swift's heart. She offended Swift, on another occasion, 
 by an unseemly reference to Mrs. Barton. 
 
 I. 23. Pastoral Philips. Ambrose Philips, whose Pastorals and 
 dramas were now favourites of the town, and much praised both by 
 Addison and Pope. Swift anticipated the revulsion of feeling that 
 made him an object of ridicule under the name of Namby Pamby. He 
 had the misfortune of becoming involved in a violent quarrel with 
 Pope : but after the triumph of the Whigs, he obtained office in 
 Ireland, under the patronage of Dr. Boulter, the Primate. Swift 
 names him again on p. 316, I. 22. 
 
 271, I. 15. Harrison. See p. 246, 1. 1 (note). Harrison was soon 
 to take up the new series of Tatlers under Swift's patronage. 
 
 272, 1. 6. Sir Andrew Founiaine had passed through a most serious 
 illness, during which all about him, save Swift, despaired of his 
 recovery. But, says Swift, 'I found the seeds of life in him, which 
 I observe seldom fail. — I found them in poor dearest Stella, when she 
 was ill many years ago.' His illness was aggravated by the ill-timed 
 visit of his mother (' the greatest Overdo on earth,' says Swift) and 
 his sister. See p. 241, 1. n (note). 
 
 1. 8. Mr. Prolocutor. Atterbury had just been elected Prolocutor 
 to the Lower House of Convocation, by a large majority over Dr. 
 Kennet, Dean of Peterborough. 
 
 1. 20. / must talk politics. Swift generally avoids this, and pro- 
 fesses not to know what Stella's politics are. 
 
 1. 28. I think our friends press a little too hard on the Duke of 
 Marlborough. This is a view which Swift expresses repeatedly in 
 the Journal. Cf. p. 280, 1. 30. St. John, he says, had, on one occasion, 
 been with the Duke, and told Swift ' that he (the Duke) was lamenting 
 his former wrong steps in joining with the Whigs, and was worn out 
 with age, fatigues, and misfortunes.' ' I swear,' Swift goes on, ' it 
 pitied me. . . He is 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 ... Yet 
 he has been a successful general, and I hope he will continue to 
 command.' ' The Duke of Marlborough,' he says again, ' says there 
 is nothing he now desires so much as to contrive some way to soften 
 
454 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Dr. Swift. He is mistaken : for those things that have been hardest 
 against him, were not written by me . . . Now he is down, I shall 
 not trample on him.' 
 
 1. 29. the country members, who soon formed the October Club, 
 to press extremities to which the Ministers were disinclined. 
 
 1. 30. past faults, i. e. of the Whig ministers. 
 273, 1. 1. at peace. The first word of it in the Journal, though it 
 had been talked of ever since the change of ministry, in the previous 
 autumn. 
 
 1. 23. / do not much approve his manner. As Swift puts it else- 
 where, ' I am afraid the little toad has not the true vein for it.' For 
 such papers, the true vein was everything. 
 
 1. 26. to a printer. Dryden Leach (see p. 276, 1. 19), whom 
 Harrison reported to Swift to be ' a coxcomb.' 
 
 274, 1. 2. the Whigs will not lend a groat. See p. 254, 1. 28 (note). 
 
 I.17. where Presto would never go but for that purpose. Swift was 
 beginning not to relish the Whig resort. See p. 242, 1. 34 (note). 
 
 275, 1. 8. my head having some little disorder. These forewarnings 
 of Swift's impending disorder are becoming more and more frequent. 
 
 1. 18. Patrick's bird's water. A linnet which Patrick had bought 
 a few days before for sixpence. ' I laid fairly before him,' says 
 Swift, 'the greatness of the sum, and the rashness of the attempt . .'. 
 but he would not take my counsel, and he will repent it.' 
 
 1. 20. Lady Kerry, the wife of Lord Kerry, represented now by 
 the Marquis of Lansdowne, and thus a kinswoman of Swift's friend 
 Lord Shelburne, with whom he stayed at Wycombe, in Bucks. 
 
 1. 24. Joes wife. Mrs. Beaumont. See p. 230, 1. 1 (note) : and 
 Swift's Verses on his Own Death, in Vol. II. 
 
 276, 1. 9. Lady Lucy, at whose house Swift often visited just now, 
 although soon after they fell out. as the lady was a Whig. 
 
 1. 16. the last Examiner. Written by Swift himself. 
 
 1. 29. Morphew and Lilly. Morphew. the publisher of Swift's 
 Conduct of the Allies, summoned by Chief Justice Parker to answer 
 for it and other papers, when the Whigs deemed their triumph 
 secure, in Dec. 1711, owing to the Whig majority in the Lords 
 against the peace. Lilly had been Clerk to the Stationers' Company. 
 
 277, 1. 13. he would be reconciled to Steele. Cf. p. 270, 1. 15. 
 
 I.30. I fell out with him yesterday. See next page, 1. 9. Harleyhad 
 sent Swift a bank bill for £50, which was naturally resented as an insult. 
 
 278, I. 26. Congreve. See p. 253, 1. n (note). His Tatler was 
 No. 14 of Harrison's series. 
 
 279, 1. 6. Estcourt. See p. 254, 1. 9 (note). 
 
 1. 13. Dr. Duke. Richard Duke, ' one of the wits,' says Swift, 
 
NOTES, pp. 272-a8a. 455 
 
 'when we were children, but turned parson, and left it.' Johnson 
 gave him a place in his Lives, and thus dismisses him : ' His poems 
 are not below mediocrity, nor have I found much in them to be 
 praised.' He obtained the living of Witney, in Oxfordshire, only a 
 few months before his death. 
 
 1. 16. Lord Rivers. See p. 269, 1. 7 (note). 
 280, 1. 13. St. Mary's. The street in Dublin where Stella and Mrs. 
 Dingley lodged. 
 
 1. 16. an October club. See p. 272, 1. 29 (note). A section after- 
 wards branched off into the March Club. 
 
 1. 31. for speaking civilly of the Duke of Marlborough. See p. 272, 
 I/28 (note). 
 
 281, I.3. he was much out of order. Harley's illness, of which 
 over-indulgence in drink was the chief cause, is often mentioned 
 about this time, and accounts for his slow recovery from the wound 
 he was presently to receive (next page). 
 
 1. 11. though nobody dares talk of it. Although no overt steps had 
 yet been taken, the peace had certainly been talked of before this. 
 
 1. 20. Duchess of Somerset. Lady Elizabeth Percy, first married 
 to the Earl of Ogle, then to Thomas Thynne, of Longleat, and lastly 
 to the Duke of Somerset, a leading Whig. (' Of good judgment,' 
 says Macky in his Characters, of the Duke : Swift comments, ( not a 
 grain, hardly common sense.') The Duchess's influence at Court, 
 the chief counterpoise to that of Mrs. Masham, was a source of 
 danger to the Ministry, and much dreaded by Swift, who satirized 
 her in the Windsor Prophecy, and gave mortal offence by alluding to 
 her red hair in the name ' Carrots ' which represents her there. 
 
 1. 31. the Examiners — which Swift not only read, but wrote. 
 282 1. 8. The whole circumstances attending this strange attack on 
 Harley illustrate strikingly the political feeling and curious adminis- 
 trative customs of the day. The Marquis de Guiscard, who is often 
 described as a mere adventurer, was the younger son of a very dis- 
 tinguished family in France. He had joined the Church, in order to 
 obtain some preferment, but with no idea of performing any of the 
 duties of his profession further than was habitual amongst the nobility 
 of Louis XIV's Court, in a similar case. But his excesses gave 
 scandal even in a licentious society : and he soon embroiled him- 
 self with Madame Maintenon, the King's mistress. France became 
 no longer a possible abode for him, and he began to intrigue with 
 her enemies abroad, adopting the title of Marquis before his family. 
 name. Early in Queen Anne's reign he was in correspondence with 
 the Whig ministers, and he not only obtained employment from 
 them, but made a great figure in the higher society of the day. His 
 
456 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 offers, however, proved illusive : he was without military capacity, 
 and his resources failed. He doubled and twisted in intrigue, and 
 seems to have laid some plot against the life of the Queen, though no 
 distinct evidence of it has ever been adduced, and his influence was 
 too slight to make him a real danger. Possibly some of the Ministers, 
 who were unduly compromised by their dealings with him, were 
 anxious to get rid of him. He was arrested on the Secretary's 
 warrant, and brought before a hastily summoned Council of Ministers, 
 where his examination was conducted with little regard to legal form, 
 and not unnaturally ended in a violent outburst on his part, and an 
 undignified attack upon him by the Ministers, who wore their swords. 
 The wound of Harley — inflicted by a penknife picked up from the 
 table — could scarcely have been serious, had it not been for Harley's 
 unhealthy state of body. By a few weeks' illness, Harley became 
 the favourite of the moment, and his Ministry acquired, for the first 
 time, a solid foundation of power. 
 
 283, 1. 12. particularities, a somewhat curious substitute for par- 
 ticulars ; and used again on the next page, 1. 4. 
 
 284, 1. 21. in better, i. e. temper : ' out of temper ' .being used by 
 Swift as = in bad temper. 
 
 1. 24. meaning Sir William Temple. ' Don't you remember,' 
 Swift writes to Stella, ' 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 picked up my spirit 
 since then, faith : he spoiled a fine gentleman.' 
 
 285, 1. 6. Mrs. Masham's brother. Colonel Hill : see p. 264, l.n (note). 
 
 Letter XXIII. Chelsea. Swift had taken lodgings there, close to 
 Dean Atterbury's house, for change of air and exercise. 
 
 286, 1. 18. Trap. Joseph Trap had been chaplain to Sir Walter 
 St. John, the Secretary's grandfather, and it may have been to him 
 that the long religious exercises which were the trouble of Boling- 
 broke's early days were due. He was chaplain to the Irish Lord 
 Chancellor. ■ A sort of pretender to wit,' Swift calls him, ' a second- 
 rate pamphleteer to the cause.' 
 
 1. 22. The State of Wit, supposed to have been written by Gay. 
 ' The Examiner, ' this paper says, ' all men who speak without prejudice 
 allow to be well written.' Swift is named with Atterbury and Prior 
 as one of its authors. But, as Swift says, the chief praise is reserved 
 for Addison and Steele. Of Addison it is said that ' his works in 
 Latin and English poetry long since convinced the world that he was 
 the greatest master in Europe of these languages.' Steele is de- 
 scribed as the Ulysses whose bow others have vainly endeavoured 
 to stretch. 
 
NOTES, pp. 283-288. 457 
 
 1. 27. Spectators. Swift gave some hints for the early Spectators, 
 and he does not deny them the merit of being ' often prettily written.' 
 There is more of contempt than praise in his repeating elsewhere, as 
 the common report, not a matter of his own knowledge, ' They say 
 abundance of them are very pretty.' When party feeling gets stronger, 
 Swift's contempt for the mannerisms increases — ' I'll not meddle with 
 the Spectator, let him fair-sex it as he will.' 
 
 1. 29. that villain Curl has scraped up some trash. This is not to 
 be confounded with the Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, published by 
 Morphew a few weeks before, and alluded to by Swift in the Journal 
 for 28th Feb. It professed to be issued without the knowledge of the 
 author ; but it may be doubted whether Swift had not some part in 
 the publication. ' I know nothing of it,' he says, ' it was without my 
 knowledge or consent ' ; but he adds, ' Tooke pretends he knows no- 
 thing of it, but I doubt he is at the bottom.' Tooke would not have 
 ventured such a thing without Swift's consent ; and Swift was very 
 likely to make this half-jocular mystification. 
 
 287, 1. 5- Mrs. Pratt, the wife of the Deputy Vice- Treasurer of 
 Ireland, the Vke-Treasurership being held jointly by two absentees — 
 Lord Anglesea and Lord Hyde. 
 
 1. 9. Buckingham House, then the residence of the Duke of 
 Buckingham, and described by him in a letter to the Duke of Shrews- 
 bury, published in his works. 
 
 I.16. the number of ladies walking there. The fashion of walking 
 seems-to have been in the ascendant in London. Swift tells us how 
 the young men of fashion had taken to wearing thick boots and going 
 long walks. 
 
 I.21. Stoyte. Alderman Stoyte of Dublin, whose hospitality, and 
 that of his lady, ' Goody ' Stoyte, Swift often enjoyed. The walk to 
 the Alderman's house at Donnybrook would not be a very severe 
 strain on Stella's pedestrian powers. 
 
 I. 24. it would do : DD goes as well as Presto. We might, with 
 no excess of boldness, conjecture, 'It would do DD good, as well as 
 Presto.' But as the MS. of the letter does not exist, it is best to keep 
 to the printed text. DD is the same as MD, and stands for Stella 
 and Dingley. 
 
 1. 28. I hate to be obliged to either of those qualities for anything. 
 Cf. p. 311, I. 3i. 
 
 288,1.2. one parson Richardson. The Rev. John Richardson, of 
 Belturbet, chaplain to the Duke of Ormond, who was busy over a 
 project for making Protestants of the Irish, by introducing amongst 
 them the Scriptures and prayers in the Irish tongue. 
 
 J. 14. one Mrs. Colledge, daughter of Stephen Colledge, whose 
 
458 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 fanatical zeal of Protestantism first made him a devout believer in 
 Titus Oates' pretended plot, and then a sharer in Shaftesbury's. 
 
 1. 23. at Vauxhall. The Spring Garden at Vauxhall was a place 
 of public resort from the days of Charles II downwards. 
 
 1. 26. Colonel Crowe, now Governor of Jamaica. For Sterne, see 
 p. 237, 1. 31 (note). Not to be confused with Sterne, Dean of 
 St. Patrick's. 
 
 1. 28. in his business. Some affair Sterne was pressing at the 
 Treasury. Swift frequently alludes to it, but nowhere explains it. 
 289, 1. 6. the Saturday Club. See p. 285, 1. 9. 
 
 I.7. the Duke of Shrewsbury. ' A very great and excellent person,' 
 says Swift, in a letter to Archbishop King. But to his Character, in 
 Macky, which claims for him ' virtue,' as well as many other quali- 
 ties, Swift has added the note ' none.' 
 
 1. ir. Duke of Buckingham. See p. 256, 1. 16 (note). 
 
 1. 19. he did not mean anything of 'his quality, &c. Swift's meaning 
 seems to be that the Duke of Shrewsbury made a handsome speech, 
 in refusing to base any claim to observance for Buckingham on his 
 quality ; he meant to attribute Buckingham's refusal to make advances 
 to his personal pride, in which a commoner might be equal with a 
 duke, and Swift has now met their waiving of ' quality ' by assuming 
 that no man is to take his stand upon his personal pride. No man 
 ever belied his own theory more. 
 
 290, 1. 14. William Lownds, Secretary to the Treasury. 
 
 1. 23. Sir Thomas Mansel, now Comptroller of H. M. Household, 
 in place of Sir J. Holland. He was made a peer with the batch 
 created at the crisis of Dec. 1711. 
 
 I.27. declared Earl of Oxford. He was created Earl of Oxford, 
 Earl Mortimer, and Baron Harley of Wigmore Castle. 
 
 have the staff, i. c. the staff of Lord-Treasurer, which had been 
 held by Godolphin, since whose dismissal the Treasurership had been 
 in commission. 
 
 1. 28. This man has grown by persecutions, turnings out, and 
 stabbing. Cf. the motto from Horace, which Prior prefixed to the 
 complimentary poem addressed to Harley, after Guiscard's escapade — 
 
 ' Ab ipso 
 Ducit opes animumque ferro.' 
 291, I. 23. As for the Examiner. Swift now ceased to write in the 
 Examiner, handing over the work to some of those whom he called 
 his ' underspur-leathers.' But he was more than ever identified with 
 the Ministers ; and this month he tells Stella how he had deserted 
 his old haunts, and saw none of his Whig friends. 
 
 292, 1. 14. to make Congreve easy. Congreve was glad to obtain 
 
NOTES, pp. 288-296. 459 
 
 now the indulgence of the Tories. But Swift viewed less leniently 
 his later friendship with the Whigs, when Congreve, in Swift's words, 
 appealed ' from Paean's fire to party zeal ' — 
 
 ' Took proper principles to thrive ; 
 And so might every dunce alive ! ' 
 
 1. 91. to erect a society, &c. Cf. p. 310, 1. 2. We must connect 
 this with Swift's letter to the Tatter, No. 230. The notion was, in 
 some ways, a strange one for Swift, considering his own freedom 
 from rule or convention. But it was essentially bound up with his 
 defence of the Ancients, and with his love of ' simplicity, the best and 
 truest ornament of most things in life.' 
 
 1. 24. Dean of Carlisle. Atterbury, soon to be Dean of Christ 
 Church. 
 
 293, 1. 15. / believe the box is not lost. This refers to a box which 
 Swift had sent over, containing some articles which he had been 
 commissioned to buy for Stella. The wanderings of the box are the 
 subject of endless allusions in the Journal, and each allusion shews 
 how much Swift was occupied with Stella's affairs. 
 
 1. 20. / ought less to venture it than other people, and so I was told. 
 One . amongst several references to Swift's fear that his political 
 opponents might attempt personal violence in retaliation for his 
 attacks. 
 
 1. 23. send a letter of attorney. This appears to relate to some 
 plan of changing Stella's investments from England to Ireland. 
 
 294, 1. 22. we make but three hours there = we are only three hours 
 in getting there. 
 
 295, 1. 15. an offer of fifty pounds. This is clearly different from, 
 although it closely resembles, the cause of Swift's passing offence with 
 Harley. See p. 277, 1. 30 (note). 
 
 1. 27. am so proud I make all the lords come up to me. Cf. p. 289, 
 1. 19 (note). 
 
 1. 31. got the Gazette for Ben Tooke and one Barber, with both of 
 whom Swift had many dealings. At Swift's solicitation, the Gazette 
 was taken by St. John from Jacob Tonson, and given to Swift's pro- 
 teges, for whom he afterwards obtained other appointments, including 
 that of Stationers to the Ordnance, which was given them by Lord 
 Rivers. 
 
 296, 1. 14. Duchess of Shrewsbury, the Italian lady who translated 
 Swift's name into Presto. 
 
 1. 15. Mrs. Masham. Abigail Hill, now the Queen's chosen 
 companion. 
 
 1. 19. George Fielding-was Equerry to the Queen, and an adherent 
 of the Tory party. 
 
460 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 Arbuthnot, a scion of the family of Viscount Arbuthnot of Kin' 
 cardineshire, now Physician to the Queen, was perhaps, of all Swift's 
 friends, the most entirely congenial to him. He was endeared to him 
 not only by that good humour which, as Swift afterwards said, would 
 have made him burn his travels, had there been more Arbuthnots in 
 the world ; not only by his brilliant wit ; but also by that superiority 
 of temperament that made him, with abundant literary power, stand 
 aside from the literary wrangles of that irritable band of friends of 
 whom Pope was the chief, and, like Swift, be the spectator rather 
 than the participant of their jealousies. 
 
 1. 26. Longfield, an Irish friend, who lived at Killibride, four 
 miles from Trim. 
 
 my coat was light camlet, &c. A strange attire for a clergyman 
 of that day, when the clergy generally appeared in gown and 
 bands. 
 
 297, 1. 1. Mrs. Hill, sister-in-law of Mrs. Masham. Her husband, 
 Colonel Hill, had just failed in his expedition to Quebec, and the 
 failure involved some trouble to the Ministers. 
 
 1. 7. I have much obligation to. Arbuthnot had just waived his 
 brother's claims to military promotion in favour of Bernage, a 
 protege of Swift's. 
 
 1. 8. Lady Oglethorp, wife of Sir Theophilus Oglethorp of Godal- 
 ming, and daughter of Mr. Richard Walls of Rogane in Ireland. She 
 was the mother of General Oglethorp, the patron of Johnson, and the 
 admired of Pope as the type of benevolence — 
 
 ' One, driven by strong benevolence of soul, 
 Shall fly, like Oglethorp, from pole to pole.' 
 Lady Oglethorp was a woman of ability — so ' cunning a devil,' says 
 Swift, ' that she had great influence as a reconciler of the differences 
 at Court.' 
 
 1. 16. beating Patrick, who had gone off with the key of the 
 chambers, and kept Swift ' cooling his heels in the cloisters ' for two 
 hours. When he came back Swift ' shut the chamber door, and gave 
 him two or three swingeing cuffs on the ear,' and strained the thumb 
 of his left hand. It was not the first time that Swift had to correct 
 Patrick's drunken carelessness by similar methods. 
 
 Letter XXXVI. In the interval between this and the preceding 
 letter, the negotiations for the Peace, on which the fate of the 
 Ministry seemed to rest, had made some progress ; but considerable 
 opposition had to be encountered in the House of Lords. In order 
 to influence the public, Swift now wrote perhaps the most powerful 
 of his political pamphlets, The Conduct of the Allies, which had a great 
 success, running through five editions in a few weeks. Two other 
 
NOTES, pp. 396-30 1. 461 
 
 dangers threatened the Ministry, and almost made Swift despair: 
 the first was the growing breach between Hariey and St. John ; the 
 second, the suspicions of the Queen's good faith to the Ministers, 
 influenced as she was by the Duchess of Somerset. 
 
 1. 19. the great question : the debate on the Peace. 
 
 1. 22. The Earl of Nottingham, whom Swift satirized under his 
 nickname of ' Dismal.' He was a dreary and formal pedant, who, on 
 grounds of personal discontent, deserted his party on this question. 
 Swift does not scruple to state that his ratting was due to foreign 
 bribes, and refers to the same charge in a letter to Archbishop 
 King. 
 
 298, 1. 15. was there, i. e. at the House of Lords' debate. 
 
 299, 1. 4. Great Chamberlain Lindsay. The Marquis of Lindsay, 
 afterwards Duke of Ancaster. He mixed little in party politics, and 
 that he was no thorough-going Tory is proved by the fact that he 
 enjoyed the favour of George I. 
 
 1. 17. his two daughters, the Ladies Rialton (afterwards Countess 
 Godolphin) and Sunderland. 
 
 1. 19. Lord Cholmondeley, now Treasurer of the Household. 
 He was of known Whig sympathies, and was dismissed before the 
 death of Queen Anne. ' Good for nothing, so far as ever I knew,' 
 says Swift of him, in the notes on Macky's Characters. 
 
 1. 26. I begged him to know, i. e. I begged of him that I might 
 know. The expression is one of those common with Swift. 
 
 300, 1. 20. the whole matter is settled between the Queen and the 
 Whigs. It is curious to read of this entire confidence on the part of 
 the Whigs. As a fact only two or three weeks dissipated their 
 hopes, and enabled the Ministry triumphantly to carry the Peace. 
 It is true that in eighteen months more, by the folly and dissensions 
 of the Tories, and the dangerous intrigues of some amongst them, the 
 triumph was wantonly cast away. 
 
 1. 24. by managing elections. The Whigs could not, that is to 
 say, go to the country with any hope, unless influence was brought to 
 bear. The Tories, therefore, feared defeat, even while they were 
 confident that the country was wi(h them. Nothing could better 
 illustrate the tone of political feeling, and the balance of political 
 influence, in Swift's day. 
 
 301, 1. 14. they will let the Parliament sit, &c. They means the 
 Whig Junto, who are spoken of as masters of the situation, and waiting 
 only for the voting of supplies to undertake the administration. It 
 is difficult to understand the abject fear into which Swift and Lewis 
 allowed themselves to fall, and which seems to justify Hariey 's words 
 on 1. 29. 
 
46a SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 302, 1. 9. De Buys, the Dutch envoy, 'who spoke English,' Swift 
 says elsewhere, ' well enough,' but ' was plaguy politic' His inter- 
 ference in the politics of England was a typical instance of what 
 Swift attacked both in the Conduct of the Allies and in the Public 
 Spirit of the Whigs. 
 
 1. 12. During the intervening days, the Whig triumph seemed 
 so near that Morphew, the publisher of the Conduct of the Allies, 
 was summoned by Lord Chief Justice Parker, and a prosecution all 
 but begun. 
 
 1. 13. the Occasional Bill, for preventing nonconformists from 
 qualifying for office, by an occasional conformity to the rules of the 
 Church. This absurd practice was frequently discussed in Parliament, 
 and strange party combinations were formed for and against it. 
 
 1. 31. poor Mrs. Long. See p. 259, 1. 13. Mrs. Long was a 
 beauty and a reigning toast, and appears not infrequently in the 
 Journal and correspondence, before the sad story, here given, of her 
 death. Misfortune never alienated Swift's affection, nor made him 
 forget the duties of friendship. 
 
 303, 1. 23. Post-Boy. This was the Tory periodical, published by 
 Abel Roper. The Frenchman, Boyer, issued the Political State in 
 the Whig interest. Another periodical of the Whigs was the Pro- 
 testant Post-Boy, at this time prosecuted by St. John. 
 
 1. 29. After the interval here, matters suddenly mended. Mrs. 
 Masham's influence proved stronger than that of the Duchess of 
 Somerset ; and if the Queen had been inclined to turn against 
 her Ministers, she now threw herself entirely into their hands. 
 Twelve new peers — several of them Swift's intimate friends — were 
 created. This secured & majority for the Peace in the House of 
 Lords. 
 
 304, 1. 20. / know not who has the rest. The Duke of Ormond was 
 soon after made Commander of the Forces, and Lord Rivers Master 
 of the Ordnance. The dismissal of the Duke of Somerset, as Master 
 of the Horse, followed in the same month. 
 
 I.21. do not approve it at best. Compare with the whole of this 
 passage p. 272, 1. 28 (note). 
 
 305, 1. 6. my four brothers. The brothers were the fellow-members 
 of the Society, named in 1. 27 (see note there) . Of the new peers 
 four were named amongst the members of the Society — George 
 Granville, created Lord Lansdown ; Lord Masham, the husband of 
 Abigail Hill ; Lord Bathurst, who was the friend of Swift and Pope 
 as well as of the succeeding generation ; and Lord Mansel. Another 
 brother to be congratulated was Harley himself, who probably 
 assisted to introduce some of the new batch. 
 
NOTES, pp. 303-306. 463 
 
 1. 6. Sir Thomas Mansel, created Lord Mansel of Morgan. See 
 p. 290, 1. 23 (note). 
 
 1. 7. Lord Windsor, an Irish peer, now raised to the peerage 
 of Great Britain, as Lord Mountjoy. 
 
 1. 21. the society. See note to 1. 27. 
 
 1. 25. peeast tweeleve a clock. See p. 260, 1. 27 (note). 
 
 1. 27. our society day. The Society is not to be confounded with 
 the ' Saturday Club,' which was a meeting of political intimates — 
 almost a Cabinet. 'See p. 285, 1. 9, and p. 289, 1. 6.) The Society 
 was first started in Swift's absence, but its rules were drawn up by 
 him. Its object was, in his own words, ' to advance conversation 
 and friendship, and to reward deserving persons with our interest and 
 recommendation. We take in none but men of wit and men of in- 
 terest (=influence).' At first the number was only twelve : amongst 
 whom were Swift, St. John, Wyndham, Raymond (Attorney-General), 
 Bathurst, Granville, Mansel, Masham, Lewis, Arbuthnot, and the 
 Duke of Shrewsbury. The Lord Treasurer and Lord Harcourt were 
 admitted soon after, and the number seems to have grown to more 
 than twenty. They dined together every Thursday ; and when it was 
 his turn to be President and paymaster, the extravagance of the feasts 
 caused many a pang to Swift. At first it was called a club ; but this 
 name was discarded for ' The Society.' Lord Dupplin, the President 
 for this day, was son of Lord Kinnoull, and son-in-law of Harley. 
 
 1. 31. Lord Lansdown. George Granville, one of the new peers, 
 and Secretary at War. He was the author of a tragedy called Heroic 
 Love, and obtained the praise both of Dryden-and of Pope. 
 
 1. 32. Lady Mary Thynne, daughter of the Earl of Jersey. Her 
 brother, who succeeded to the title this year, was kept out of the 
 Society by Swift. 
 
 306, 1. 2. Lord Radnor. Swift elsewhere describes how he called 
 on Lord Radnor, ' and was arguing with him three hours to bring him 
 over to us, and I spoke so closely that I believe he will be tractable ; 
 but he is a scoundrel, and though I said I only talked for my love to 
 him, I told a lie ; for I did not care if he were hanged : but every 
 one gained over is of consequence.' 
 
 306, I. 4. Dr. King. There were three Dr. William Kings, who 
 had all some connexion with Swift. The first was the Archbishop of 
 Dublin. The second was the man now referred to, Dr. William King 
 (1663-1712) the civilian, of Westminster School and Christ Church, 
 an indolent, but likeable and 'witty member of the tribe of minor 
 poets. He had attacked the Tale of a Tub: but his ardent Toryism 
 recovered for him Swift's good-will. The third was Dr. William 
 King, Principal of St. Mary Hall (1685-1763). 
 
464 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 7. ombre. A game at cards, frequently named in the Journal, 
 as played at Dublin. 
 
 1. 8. During the interval down to Letter XLIII, the Peace is 
 making slow progress, and Swift is not satisfied as to the position of 
 the Ministers. He endeavours to show the danger of extremes in 
 his Letter to the October Club. His gloom is increased by the failure 
 of his old friend Stratford, the Hamburg merchant, who had helped 
 Swift in his investments. 
 
 1. 9. Observe that the Letters from this point (except the 54th) 
 are in the British Museum, and the extracts given have been collated 
 with the MSS. 
 
 Mohocks. The Mohocks, or Hawkubites (as they were some- 
 times called), were only the successors of similar bands of disorderly 
 ruffians, who had occasionally scoured the streets of London for more 
 than a century. The 'Scourers' the ' Tityre Tus,' the ' Muns,' the 
 'Hectors,' — these were a few of their predecessors, and they all alike 
 owed their licence to the absence of an organized police. The sup- 
 posed connexion of the band with the Whig party was probably 
 only a figment of political imagination, and Swift himself hints as 
 much (p. 307, 1. 8). But he repeats the charge in his History of the 
 Four Last Years of Queen Anne. 
 
 I.15. Young Davenant. Son of Dr. Charles Davenant, a somewhat 
 disappointed and morose political writer, and grandson of Sir William 
 Davenant, the poet. The young man was now Envoy to Frankfort. 
 ' Very giddy-headed, with some wit,' says Macky, in his Characters : 
 to which Swift adds the words, ' He is not worth mentioning.' 
 
 1. 19. The Bishop of Salisbury's son. Thomas Burnet, who was 
 certainly a dissipated youth, and may have joined the Mohocks' band 
 on occasion. But Swift's old enmity against the father would make 
 him give easy credit to the story against the son. The young man 
 reformed, and became a judge. 
 
 307, 1. 3. Law is a Bottomless Pit. This was by Dr. Arbuthnot, 
 and came out in four parts, following in quick succession, and each 
 announced with some additional praise by Swift to Stella. The 
 whole was afterwards republished under the name of The History of 
 John Bull. Its object was to belittle the War, and promote the Peace. 
 See Aitken's Arbuthnot, p. 44. 
 
 1. 21. Harrison. See p. 246, 1. 1 (note). He was now secretary 
 to the Ambassador, Lord Strafford. 
 
 1. 29. Diaper. There is perhaps as much ridicule as seriousness 
 in Swift's praise of this portentous rising wit. He had him recom- 
 mended, however, to the Society, but it was through Wyndham, and 
 not by himself. He also introduced the poet to St. John, from whom 
 
NOTES, pp. 306-310. 465 
 
 he obtained some charitable help for the poor fellow. ' I have con- 
 trived to make a parson of him, for he is half one already, being in 
 deacon's orders, and serves a small cure in the country : but has a 
 sword at his tail here. It is a poor, little, short wretch, but will do 
 best in a gown, and we will make Lord Keeper give him a living.' 
 
 308, 1. 1. Dean of Christchurch. Atterburyhad recently obtained 
 this promotion. He seems now to have forgotten his old resentment 
 against Orrery for the ungrateful way in which he behaved after 
 Atterbury had furnished him, as Charles Boyle, with weapons for 
 the fight with Bentley. See p. 246, 1. 12 (note). 
 
 1. 24. will go in a week for Flanders. The Duke of Ormond was 
 now Captain-General of the Forces, and his setting out was a sort of 
 threat intended to quicken negotiations. 
 
 809, 1. 7. Percival. An Irish friend, now in London with his wife. 
 
 1. 12. Society daj. See p. 305, 1. 27 (note). 
 
 Arbuthnett. Swift's spelling of the name is not consistent. 
 Once, at least, he has it Arburthnott. 
 
 1. 15. Ozindas, and the Cocoa-Tree, were the Tory houses, as the 
 St. James's was the Whig. 
 
 1. 28. Just after this, Swift was seized with a long and painful, 
 although not dangerous, illness. The correspondence was much in- 
 terrupted, and even when renewed did not return to the journal form 
 for more than eight months. 
 
 1. 30. the chancellor of the exchequer. The Rt. Hon. R. Benson. 
 310, 1. 2. My Letter to Lord- Treasurer, See p. 292, 1. 21 (note). 
 
 1. 5. John Bull. See p. 307, 1. 3 (note). 
 
 1. 10. a tack. This was a device, then often resorted to by a 
 dominant faction in the House of Commons, of joining some measure 
 in which they were much interested to a Money Bill, which the House 
 of Lords had no power to alter. On this occasion the extreme Tories 
 (the October Club) tacked to a Lottery Bill another Bill for appointing 
 Commissioners to examine into grants of lands by the Crown since 
 1688. It was, in fact, a revival of the very Bill which Swift had 
 attacked in his Dissensions in Athens and Rome. The Ministers were 
 strong enough, however, to procure the reversal of the tacking 
 resolution : and the Bill for the appointment of the Commissioners 
 was sent separately to the House of Lords, where, after passing all 
 the earlier stages, it was rejected on the third reading by the Chair- 
 man's casting vote. 
 
 1. 13. tause see iss a dood daller in idle sings, ' because she is a 
 good girl in little things.' The only excuse for an occasional inter- 
 pretation of the ' little language''— which each reader can generally 
 interpret for himself— is that a comparison of many passages, of 
 VOL. I. H h 
 
466 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 which only a few specimens are here given, helps us to explain what 
 Swift meant. 
 
 1. 17. a business, which, till it takes, &c. This broken construc- 
 tion, of which we have seen so many instances in the Tale of a Tub, 
 is characteristic of Swift. 
 
 31 1, 1. 1. spreenckich. This is the best to be made out of the somewhat 
 indistinct MS. The word may stand for ' splenetic,' which is very 
 common with Swift : but it is expressive enough in itself, and Swift 
 probably was not sure what orthodox word he meant to represent. 
 
 1. 5. if I writ an essay upon a straw, &c. Only a few days later 
 Swift uses the same expression — ' if I writ an essay upon a straw, I 
 should have a shoal of answerers.' 
 
 1. 7. Kensington. The Kensington gravel-pits, on Campden Hill, 
 were then a favourite health resort. 
 
 1. 21. I hate them, because they rise from not having a thousand 
 pound a year. Cf. p. 287 , 1. 28. 
 
 1. 23. From this date the letters become very irregular, ceasing at 
 one time altogether for five weeks, and not resuming the journal form 
 until near the end of the year. Swift was not only burdened with 
 illness, but with anxiety and disappointment. During the interval 
 St. John became Viscount Bolingbroke ; and the Act for taxing period- 
 ical papers was passed. The break between Harley and St. John 
 was growing wider. 
 
 812, 1. 3. Lord Lansdown. George Granville, Secretary for War, 
 created a peer with the batch in the December previous. 
 
 1. 4. Lord Carteret, afterwards Earl of Granville, one of the most 
 brilliant scholars and wits as well as one of the foremost statesmen of 
 last century. He was now one of the chosen circle of Swift's friends, 
 and was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland at the time of the Drapier Letters. 
 As colleague of Walpole, he was compelled to carry out a policy ad' 
 verse to Swift. But he was at the same time one of Walpole's most 
 inveterate enemies, and the bond of sympathy was never broken 
 between him and Swift, who made Carteret the subject of some of 
 his most complimentary poems. 
 
 1. 6. Lord Chief Justice Parker, afterwards Lord Macclesfield, who 
 had threatened Morphew, the publisher of the Conduct of the Allies, 
 with prosecution. 
 
 1. 27. that we have suffered the wrong, and not they. As Swift 
 shewed in the Conduct of the Allies, on which he was then at work, 
 and which appeared soon after. 
 
 313, 1. 2. my present man. Swift's patience had at length been 
 exhausted, and he had dismissed Patrick, of whose escapades we 
 have heard so much in the earlier letters. 
 
NOTES, pp. 310-319. 467 
 
 1. 7. Duke Hamilton had fought with Lord Mohun. This was the 
 duel introduced in Thackeray's Esmond. The death of the Duke was 
 not, according to the most trustworthy accounts, due to such foul play 
 as Swift imagines, but the profligate character of Lord Mohun and his 
 associates lent credibility to the story. The quarrel arose out of some 
 dispute as to an inheritance. The Duke of Hamilton was the leading 
 Scotch nobleman, and was, by descent, wealth, and position, one of 
 the chief of the Tory party. 
 
 1. 19. Macartney. Lieutenant-General Macartney was one of the 
 three generals who had been broken in 1710 for drinking destruction 
 to the present ministry. 
 
 1. 26. go with him to France, where the Duke was about to set out 
 to arrange the terms of the Peace. 
 
 1. 29. the poor duchess, the daughter of Lord Gerard of Bromley. 
 She was one of Swift's favourites, and had shewn her friendship by 
 making for him a pocket in which to carry the gold snuffbox pre- 
 sented to him by General Hill, Mrs. Masham's brother. 
 
 314, 1. n. the band-box sent to lord-treasurer. The bandbox was 
 said to have contained three fully charged pistols, and was opened by 
 Swift, who happened to be in Harley's room when it arrived, but 
 without injury. It is impossible to say whether or not it was, as the 
 Whigs asserted, a harmless hoax ; but there was, at least, enough to 
 alarm nerves not unduly sensitive. 
 
 815, 1. 6. Lady Orkney, the wife of Lord Orkney, not to .be con- 
 fused with the older Lady Orkney, mistress of William III, for whose 
 talents and good sense Swift expresses high regard. See p. 316, 1. 5 
 (note). 
 
 1. 20. Iss =yes. 
 
 316, 1. 5. Lady Orkney. Lady Elizabeth Villiers, upon whom, as 
 his mistress, William III had settled a large grant of lands in Ireland. 
 She was a highly prized friend and correspondent of Swift. 
 
 1. 22. Pastoral Philips. See p. 270, 1. 23 (note). 
 
 317, 1. 5. Lady Ashburnham. See p. 235, 1. 21 (note). 
 1. 23. Mr. Southwell. See p. 246, 1. 17 (note). 
 
 318, 1. 27. outrode it, or outdrank it, as in the poem on Mordanto, 
 
 in Vol. II. 
 
 I.32. the French ambassador. The due d'Aumont, whose house in 
 London was at this time burnt down, as was suspected, with the con- 
 nivance of the faction opposed to the Peace. 
 
 819, 1. 2. the provost =Dr. Pratt, provost of Trinity. 
 
 1. 26. There is something of farce in all these mournings. This is 
 characteristic of Swift, in the intrusion of the sarcastic vein, even 
 when his own grief was real and his sympathy strong. But it is to 
 
 H h 2 
 
468 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 be noted that Lady Betty had, only five days before, given him food 
 for sarcasm. He went, he says, to ' see Lady Betty Butler grieving 
 for her sister Ashburnham. The jade was in bed in form, and she did 
 so cant, she made me sick.' 
 
 1. 30. Duchess of Hamilton, who never grieved, but . . . stormed and 
 railed. We can hardly doubt that Thackeray had this picture in his 
 eye when he drew the scene which shows how the fiancee in the novel 
 received the news of the Duke's death. 
 
 320, 1. 1. to talk of Brutus. The current opinion of the day, in 
 which Swift fully shared, entirely approved of Brutus's action. We 
 have a poem in his praise by Cowley, beginning — 
 
 ' Excellent Brutus of all human race 
 The best till Nature was improved by grace ' — 
 and a Tragedy by the Duke of Buckingham, in which no less praise 
 is accorded to him. Cf. also Gulliver's Travels, in Vol. II. p. 274. 
 
 1. 17. my book in manuscript. This was his History of the Peace 
 of Utrecht, which was never published. 
 
 1. 19. Bishop of St. David's. Dr. Philip Bissett. 
 
 1. 22. Bishop of Clogher. See p. 230, 1. 14 (note). 
 
 1. 23. Mr. Diaper. See p. 307, 1. 29 (note). 
 
 1. 27. Harrison. See p. 246, 1. 1 (note). Just before, Swift has 
 described how his protege^ had come back from Utrecht with the 
 Barrier Treaty, yielded to by the Dutch. ' I long,' he says, ' to see the 
 little brat my own creature.' But handsome as Harrison's salary was, 
 it had not been paid, and he was deep in debt. 'There was the 
 Queen's minister,' he says, ' trusted in affairs of the greatest impor- 
 tance, without a shilling in his pocket to pay a coach.' Swift had to 
 advance him seven guineas and beg more for him from Lord Boling- 
 broke, but it was too late. On the 12th Feb. Swift hears he is ill, 
 ' has a fever and inflammation on his lungs.' Two days more and his 
 short career was ended. 
 
 321, 1. 4. Parnell. Thomas Parnell (1679-1717), whose gentle- 
 ness of nature and misfortunes endeared him to Swift, and made 
 Swift take a somewhat too high estimate of his genius. ' He outdoes 
 all our poets here a bar's length,' says Swift ; and in the decay of 
 faculties never strong and now weakened by grief and intemperance, 
 he found in Swift a patron who introduced him to Bolingbroke and 
 the ' Society.' 
 
 1. 18. Mr. Rome. See p. 240, 1. 19 (note). 
 
 a projector, who pretended to have ' found out the longitude,' 
 and wanted Swift's recommendation to the ministers. 
 
 322, 1. 13. / will have the stuff in my own hands. A colloquial 
 phrase meaning ' to be master of the situation.' ' The French 
 
NOTES, pp. 319-327. 469 
 
 have the stuff in their own hands,' Swift says elsewhere in the 
 Journal. 
 
 1. 22. The Abbe Gautier, One of the French Envoys associated 
 with Prior. 
 
 1. 30. Pratt. Captain Pratt, who had been introduced to Swift 
 by Addison. 
 
 323, 1. 12. In an entry which follows, we have the first mention of 
 Pope in the Journal in a single line : ' Mr. Pope has published a fine 
 poem called Windsor Forest.' The description of Swift in Bishop 
 Rennet's diary at this time tells us how ' he instructed a young 
 nobleman that the best poet in England was Mr. Pope (a Papisti, 
 who had begun a translation of Homer into English verse, for which 
 he must have them all subscribe ; for, says he, the author shall not 
 begin to print till I have a thousand guineas for him.' 
 
 I. 26. Our society. See p. 305, 1. 27 (note). 
 
 I. 29. chancellor of the exchequer. The Right Hon. R. Benson. 
 author of the Examiner. Mr. Oldisworth, who, with Mrs. 
 Manley (authoress of the Atalantis), had carried on Swift's discarded 
 work. It was the ascription to Swift by Steele of one of their papers 
 that began the irreconcileable enmity between Swift and Steele. 
 
 1. 34. ***** This may very likely refer to Lord Ashburnham, but 
 it is difficult to say why the name is omitted. See p. 317, 1. 25. 
 
 324, 1. II, what he wanted, i. e. the History of the Peace of Utrecht. 
 
 1. 22. he has been at a meeting at Lord Halifax's house. This 
 trafficking with the Whigs increased the breach between Oxford and 
 Bolingbroke. 
 
 325, 1. 10. Mr. St. John, Lord Bol 's brother, who had replaced 
 
 Harrison as secretary to the embassy at .Utrecht. 
 
 1. 22. Lord Wh 's, i. e. Lord Wharton See p. 267, 1. 30 (note). 
 
 1. 31. Addison's play, called Cato, which, chiefly perhaps from its 
 being made the rallying-point for political parties, attained the 
 success which, if it be judged by its own merits, seems astonishing. 
 
 326, 1. 1. the drab that acts Cato's daughter. Mrs. Oldfield. 
 
 1. 5. his daughter Caermarthen. Married to the Marquis of Caer- 
 marthen, son of the Duke of Leeds. 
 
 327, 1. 20. Windsor. The post there vacant was a prebend. 
 
 1. 32. Mr. Berkeley, the future bishop of Cloyne, to whom is due 
 the credit of breaking the bonds which Locke had placed upon English 
 philosophy, and who stands out as one of the few original meta- 
 physicians of our country. ' A very ingenious man and great philo- 
 sopher,' says Swift, ' and I have mentioned him to all the ministers.' 
 The first appointment obtained for him, that of secretary to Lord 
 Peterborough, was strangely incongruous and did not last long. 
 vol. 1. H h 3 
 
'470 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1. 33. Lord Berkeley of Stratton. See p. 253, 1. 1 (note). 
 
 329, 1. 8. at the cock-pit — a part of the Government buildings at 
 Whitehall. 
 
 330, 1. 4. General Hamilton, who had been second to the Duke of 
 Hamilton in his duel, and had been obliged to stand his trial in con- 
 nexion with it. 
 
 1. ir. Wells, the deanery of which seemed at one time likely to 
 fall to Swift. 
 
 1. 19. the book I am writing, the History of the Peace of Utrecht. 
 
 1. 28. The Archbishop of York, Dr. Sharp, who was said to have 
 hindered Swift's promotion on account of his authorship of the Tale 
 of a Tub. 
 
 1. 33. oor rettle = your letter. 
 
 331, 1. 16. Bishop of Killaloo, Dr. Thomas Lindsay. 
 1. 28. MD and D ; probably Stella and Dingley. 
 1. 31. Lady Orkney. See p. 316, 1. 5 (note). 
 
 1. 32. his Saturday people. See p. 285, 1. 9. 
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE EXAMINER. 
 
 Page 333. No. XIII. The motto is from Aen. i. 342. 
 
 I. x. to converse in equal freedom with the deserving men of both 
 parties. This was Swift's own practice, not only during the early part 
 of the Tory ministry,, but even after he had become their recognised 
 ally and chief supporter in the press. 
 
 334, 1. 5. several of my acquaintance, &c. Swift has doubtless in 
 view the conduct both of Addison and Steele, which he reports in the 
 Journal with much resentment. 
 
 1. 20. which would still have increased, if those had continued. 
 Which refers, of course, to inconveniences, and those to the counsels. 
 But the arrangement is curious, although quite characteristic of Swift. 
 The ' inconveniences ' may be shortly summed up as : Debt, the pre- 
 ponderance of the military class, and the encouragement of Dis- 
 senters : the ' counsels ' that have produced them are those of 
 Godolphin, now dismissed. 
 
 1. 24. the late revolutions at court. The preponderance of Mrs. 
 Masham, and the replacing of Godolphin and Sunderland by Harley 
 and St. John. 
 
 I.29. a general = Marlborough. 
 335, 1. 3. desperate, i. e. ' not to be hoped for,' instead of the usual 
 meaning * without any hope.' 
 
 1. 4. the fall of our credit. Whatever the reason — whether, as 
 
NOTES, pp. 329-338. 471 
 
 was asserted, by the selfish partizanship of the Whigs, who had most 
 influence among the moneyed men, or not— it is an undoubted fact that 
 the changes in the Ministry produced a fall in public securities. 
 
 I. 22. original, for ' origin '—as frequently in the Tale of a Tub. 
 
 I. 25. The lines are from Lucan, i. 181, describing the evils that 
 preceded the Civil War. The phrase ' avidumque in tempore foenus ' 
 is curious, and some have hazarded the conjecture 'in temporal 
 which seems more easy of construction. We might, perhaps, trans- 
 late it, ' and griping interest, that meets the demand for time.' 
 Certainly Swift's paraphrase can hardly be got out of the words ; 
 and the poetical version of Nicholas Rowe — 
 
 'And usury still watching for its day' — 
 has little meaning of any kind. 
 
 336, 1. 13. a scrivener. At first a clerk or notary ; but in Swift's 
 day it had fully come to have a contemptuous meaning— a grasping 
 and money-lending pettifogger. So Dryden speaks of the happy lot 
 of the man content with little and ' from the griping scrivener free.' 
 337, 1. 10. they proposed those pernicious expedients of borrowing money. 
 The expedient of anticipating the revenue by a national debt was sug- 
 gested, not only by national necessities, but also by the large increase 
 in the number of capitalists demanding an investment, and eager to 
 lend upon such credit as the Government could pledge. But it is, of 
 course, an entire mistake to suppose that the Whig Government in 
 England had first discovered the device. Strangely enough, it was 
 laid to the credit of Swift's bitter enemy, Bishop Burnet. But, as a 
 fact, the device had been resorted to as early as the sixteenth cen- 
 tury in the Papal States, where the custom of raising money by the 
 sale of offices had developed into the institution of monti non vacabili 
 — or the assignment of permanent revenues by way of interest for 
 capital advanced. In France, the custom of national borrowing had 
 long prevailed ; and, curiously enough, Swift must have heard of it 
 in Temple's description of the Dutch States, which Swift had himself 
 prepared for publication. (Temple's Works, Vol. I. p. 142, and 
 Macaulay's History, ch. xix.) 
 
 1. 13. Eumenes. The story is told by Plutarch in his life of 
 Eumenes. ' He pretended that he was in want of money, and 
 borrowed large sums of those that hated him most, that they might 
 place their trust in him, and cease their plots against his life.' 
 
 1. 20. for the subjects to raise . . . than to tax them. The incor- 
 rectness of the expression is clear. It should either be ' to require 
 the subjects to raise ' or * to suffer an annual tax equal to,' &c. Such 
 irregularities have already been frequently noted. 
 
 338,1.12. the four-shilling aid. This was the Land Tax, which, from 
 
472 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 1692, was made the subject of an annual Bill, fixing its amount. In 
 time of war, the amount was always four shillings in the pound ; in 
 time of peace it varied. 
 
 339, 1. 2. by their prudent administration, &c. The qualities here 
 enumerated are so exactly those ascribed to the Dutch in Temple's 
 treatise, that Swift must have had the treatise fresh in his memory, 
 although he disregarded its reference to their habit of lending to the 
 Government. Cf. p. 337, 1. 10 (note). 
 
 1. 10. in specks or returns = in actual coin, or in the commodities 
 which it might otherwise bring to our shores. 
 
 340, No. XIV. The motto is from Ovid, Meiamorph. xii. 61. 
 
 1. 3. Essay upon the Art of Political Lying. Arbuthnot did write 
 a tract upon this hint, and Swift speaks of it once or twice in 
 the Journal. It is printed in Scott's edition of Swift's works, vol. vi. 
 p. 176. 
 
 1. 8. seducing a third part of the subjects from their obedience, and 
 1. ro (as Milton expresses if) he had been viceroy of a great western pro- 
 vince. Swift intends a stroke at Wharton, who is referred to, not 
 obscurely, through this Examiner, and he could evidently rely on no 
 very accurate knowledge of Milton in his readers. In Milton, as 
 elsewhere, Satan was Regent of the North, Paradise Lost, v. 689 
 ('where we possess The quarters of the North'), and v. 725 ('who 
 intends to erect his throne Equal to ours throughout the spacious 
 North'). But Wharton had been Viceroy of Ireland, and Swift 
 therefore varies the region. He follows Milton in the proportion of 
 the rebellious angels, v. 709 
 
 'With lies 
 Drew after him the third part of heaven's host.' 
 
 341, 1. 9. The poets tell us. The reference is to Virgil, Aen. iv. 178 
 ' Illam terra parens, ira irritata deorum, 
 
 Extremam, ut perhibent, Coeo Enceladoque sororem 
 Progenuit.' 
 
 342, 1. 14. make a saint of an atheist, and a patriot of a profligate. 
 This is a distinct reference to Wharton, whose licentious profligacy 
 and open contempt of religion did not lose him the respect of such 
 Whigs as Addison and Burnet. 
 
 1. 21. fleur de lis and triple crowns. The Tories were accused of 
 undue friendliness to France and the Pope. 
 
 1. 22. chains, and beads, and wooden shoes. Alleged trafficking 
 with Catholicism (' chains and beads ') and with Jacobitism and its 
 French connexion. The wooden sabots of the French peasants 
 became a popular emblem of the Jacobitism that rested its hopes on 
 the support of Louis XIV. 
 
notes, pp. SS9-353- 473 
 
 1. 31. the second sight . . . as they have in Scotland. Curiously 
 enough, we learn from Lord Chesterfield that Swift's friend 
 Arbuthnot supposed himself to have this gift. (Aitken's Arbuthnot, 
 p. 164.) 
 
 343, 1. 3. discontented grandees. The Whig Lords, dismissed from 
 office. 
 
 1. 16. a certain great man. Wharton, who had now been one 
 of the most influential Whig leaders for twenty years. 
 
 844, 1. 32. those, who, by their birth, education, and merit, could pretend 
 no higher than to wear our liveries. The moneyed classes, whose 
 advance at the expense of the landed gentry Swift repeatedly 
 deplores. 
 
 345, 1. 13. by powerful motives from the city, i. e. money bribes, on 
 which Wharton is said, during his political career, to have spent no 
 less than ^80,000. 
 
 No. XVI. The motto is from Cicero, Pro Plancio, § 80. 
 
 346, 1. 22. pamphlets. One of the most active of these pam- 
 phleteers, whom Swift was occasionally employed to answer, was 
 Dr. Hare. 
 
 347, 1. 27. two persons allied by marriage to the general. Lord 
 Godolphin and Lord Sunderland, whose sons had married the Duke's 
 daughters. 
 
 349, 1. 3. very sparingly mentioned. Swift frequently reiterates, in 
 the Journal, his own intervention to mitigate the attacks on Marl- 
 borough. 
 
 1. 28. the grant at the Pall-Mall. Marlborough House. 
 
 351, 1. 1. This is an account of the visible profits on both sides. The 
 Medley (Oldmixon's paper), No. 19, answered this by shewing that 
 all the grants to Marlborough could not exceed £540,000, while 
 England had benefited by his actions to the extent of ^8,100,000. 
 
 352, 1. 7. taxed, reduced to reasonable dimensions. 
 
 I. 20. A lady of my acquaintance. This anecdote stirred the 
 Duchess to reply to it in her Account of her Conduct. She there ex- 
 plains that she had refused a yearly allowance of £2000 offered to her 
 by the Queen, when enjoying all her offices. But when dismissed, 
 she repented of her refusal, and reminded the Queen of the promise, 
 who then permitted her to charge all the arrears, amounting to 
 £18,000. The apology is almost more damaging than Swift's 
 accusation. 
 
 353, No. XXI. I have not been able to trace the prose quotation ; 
 that in verse is from Lucan's Pharsalia, Bk. IV. v. 455. Swift's method 
 of constructing one English sentence from the translations of the two 
 quotations is curious. 
 
474 SELECTIONS FROI& SWIFT. 
 
 1. 6. the late management. The Ministry of Godolphin. 
 
 1. 13. upon so unhappy afoot as the clergy of England. T 
 of ' foot,' for which custom has now substituted ' footing,' is com ' 
 in Swift's writings. The description of the degraded position oft. . 
 clergy at the close of the 17th century, given by Lord Macaulay 
 (ch. iii. of History), is well known. Macaulay has drawn many of his 
 most telling strokes from Eachard's Grounds and Occasions of the 
 Contempt of the Clergy and Religion inquired into, which was published 
 in 1670, and attracted much attention at the time. Swift seems not 
 to have been ill-disposed towards Eachard's book, and in the Apology 
 for the Tale of a Tub he speaks of Eachard having, by taking notice 
 of them, kept alive the memory of his answerers, which would other- 
 wise have perished. But the tone of the book is scarcely that which 
 suited Swift. Eachard attributes much of the contempt of the clergy 
 to their education upon old-fashioned lines ; and the effect of his 
 book is rather to prove that the general contempt was deserved, than 
 that the age was blind to merit. Eachard's book is addressed to 
 R. L., probably Roger L'Estrange, and this would not naturally 
 earn for it Swift's good-will. 
 
 1. 20. proceeded principally from the clergy. The refusal of almost 
 all the London clergy to read from their pulpits the Declaration of 
 Indulgence issued by James II, and the subsequent trial of the 
 seven bishops for libel, on the ground of their having petitioned the 
 King against the Declaration, are well-known incidents of the 
 Revolution. 
 
 354, 1. 3. fell into the basest compliances. Swift refers, of course, to 
 the unprincipled acquiescence of many of the Dissenters, represented 
 chiefly by William Penn, in the dispensing power by which JamesII 
 attempted, contrary to the Constitution, to help his fellow-religionists. 
 He has forgotten some conspicuous examples of opposite conduct 
 on the part of the Dissenters. 
 
 1. 10. his supposed father. It is rather curious to find Swift 
 hinting his belief in the falsity of the Chevalier's claim to Royal birth 
 — a story which in i7iowas generally discredited, especially amongst 
 the Tory party. 
 
 1. 15. the best collection of arguments against popery. Cf. the 
 description of the pamphlet-war carried on by the London clergy 
 against Roman Catholicism, in Macaulay's History, ch. vi. 
 
 1. 18. except a few, whose sufferings, &c. The nonjurors, whom 
 Swift respected, although he did not share their scruples. Cf. his 
 early poem to Sancroft, p. 40. 
 
 355, 1. 15. Observe the variations, after Swift's manner, in the 
 construction of the concluding clauses of the sentence. 
 
notes, pp. 353-357- 47.5 
 
 1. 25. S. Matthew xi. 19. Swift's quotation from the Bible is 
 here, as frequently elsewhere, not verbally accurate. ' Glutton ' is 
 ' gluttonous man ' in the Authorized Version. 
 
 1. 34. a noble benefaction to the Church. It was in 1704 that 
 Queen Anne's Bounty was established — the First-Fruits and Tenths, 
 which had formerly gone to the Pope, and had been transferred to 
 the Crown by Henry VIII, being assigned by the Queen for the 
 benefit of the poorer clergy. 
 
 356, 1. 29. « system of speculative opinions. Swift's views on this 
 question were always consistent. He would permit no persecution 
 for religious opinions ; but he did not hold that this maxim was in- 
 fringed if the man who denied the tenets of Christianity was refused 
 absolute equality in the eye of the law, or forbidden to share in the 
 government of a State which was based upon the assumption that 
 Christianity was true. 
 
 1. 30. of making the being and the worship of God a creature of the 
 state. It is necessary to notice the exact meaning of these words, 
 according to the usage of Swift's day. In our own day they might 
 be used to express, in the mouth of an opponent of Establishment, 
 the Erastianism of the defenders of Establishment. But Swift refers 
 to the ' noble scheme ' of making out that the being and worship of 
 God have no higher authority than that which they derive from the 
 State. That making is used in the sense of ' arguing ' or ' maintain- 
 ing' becomes clear from the next clause, which is introduced by 
 ' that,' and where making, or a similar word, must be supplied. Swift 
 upheld the duty of the State to maintain Christianity as part of its 
 legal constitution ; but he did so because he believed that the State, 
 and not Christianity (which had a higher sanction), was thereby 
 benefited. 
 
 357, 1. 6. they, i. c. the pedants of republicanism (1. 27 of previous 
 
 1. 13. the serpent with seven heads. In a later number of the 
 Examiner, Swift refers to the seven leading members of the Whig 
 party under the name of the Heptarchy. They were the Duke of 
 Marlborough, Lords Godolphin, Somers, Cowper, and Sunderland, 
 Mr. Boyle (lately Chancellor of the Exchequer) , and Mr. (afterwards 
 Sir Robert) Walpole. The passage is from Rev. xii. 15. 
 
 1. 18. For the Queen, Sec. Observe that this long and rather 
 cumbrous sentence breaks off at last with an incomplete construction. 
 There is no principal verb. 
 
 1. 19. suitable, for ' suitably.' Cf. p. 122, 1. 27 (note). 
 
 1. 23. the Archbishop of Canterbury. Tenison, who was an object 
 of Swift's consistent contempt and dislike. 'The most good-for- 
 
476 SELECTIONS FROM SWIFT. 
 
 nothing prelate I ever knew,' is Swift's MS. comment on Teni- 
 son's character, as given in Macky's Characters of the Court of 
 Queen Anne. 
 
 1. 25. the loose and profane principles, &c. This letter was ar- 
 ranged by Hailey and Atterbury, and was communicated to the 
 Archbishop on the 12th of December —just a fortnight before this 
 Examiner appeared. 
 
 1. 29. for which. The Royal letter from which Swift quotes has 
 ' of which.' Cp. p. 71, 1. 10 (note). 
 
 358, 1. 7. The Upper House. The letter of reply as drafted by the 
 Whig Bishops in the Upper House was a veiled defiance of the 
 Queen and her new Ministers. The prominent feature of the Queen's 
 letter had been her expression of dislike towards latitudinarianism. 
 It contained no reference to the War, nor to the question of the succes- 
 sion. The burden of the Bishops' reply, on the other hand, was the 
 good fortune of the English arms in the War (which it was already 
 the avowed object of the Ministry to bring to a close), and the para- 
 mount necessity of maintaining the Protestant succession. When a 
 short paragraph, directly referring to the topics of the Queen's letter, 
 was introduced, it dealt with these topics in the most perfunctory 
 way, and pointed specially to the dangers of superstition ( = Roman 
 Catholicism) instead of those arising from the ' loose principles ' of 
 which the Queen had expressed abhorrence. 
 
 358, 1. 28. institution. Cf. an exactly similar use of the word on 
 p. 98, 1. 11. 
 
 359, 1. 25. these inconveniences, i. c. the presence, on the episcopal 
 bench, of nominees of Godolphin. 
 
 1. 28. a prolocutor, i. c. Atterbury, who was now Dean of Car- 
 lisle, and was soon to become Dean of Christ Church. He was 
 elected Prolocutor by a large majority against Dr. Kennet, Dean of 
 Peterborough, the nominee of the Archbishop and of Bishop Burnet. 
 
 1. 31. done themselves much reputation is an unusual phrase. 
 Reputation is here used as exactly = honour. 
 
 360, 1. 1 . three Latin speeches. Those of Dr. Smalridge, who pre- 
 sented the Prolocutor, of Atterbury himself, and of the Archbishop, 
 in reply. This last is, of course, that which ' is said to be so peculiar 
 in the style and matter.' 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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