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•LUCIUS.L
HUBBARD
HOUGHTON
MICHIGAN
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372
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173
THE
WORKS
N
OF
JONATH SWIFT, D.D:D.S.P.D.
WITH
Notes Hiftorical and Critical.
By
J. HAWKE SWORTH,L.L.D.
and others.
VOL.I.
Printed for J.WILLIAMS,
DUBLIN 1774.
Gjaac Taylor scalp, Lond.
Res.
Lucius L. Hubbard
gg.
10-81-1922
15 vole.
409899
I HE
DUBLIN EDITOR'S PREFACE.
WH
HENEVER any thing from the Prefs is offered
to the Public, it will be confidered in the fame
light, as money which receives its currency from its
conftituent Qualities. Authors and Editors are both
accountable to the World. He who compofes will con-
fider public Utility and public Entertainment; he who
compiles ought to be judicious, as well as careful, in
collecting; and he who would be the faithful Editor,
will bring to public view, Matter deduced from Autho-
rity, properly digefted and arranged in due form:
Among different Precedents he will chufe the moſt ac-
curate, clear, and edifying: If he has modefty, his
Choice will be guided by thofe whofe judgment and
taſte qualify them to inftruct him: If he has Prudence
he will attend to their Advice.
Upon theſe Principles is an Edition of the Works of
the Great SWIFT, offered to the Public; an Attempt
not deriving from thofe interested Motives, which too
often abſorb all other Confiderations; for altho' the
fair reward of Labour is a lawful defire, yet Reputati-
on is ſtill to ſhare in the Undertaking.
Care has been taken to print this Edition as cor-
rectly as poffible; and, in point of Accuracy, it will
be found vaftly fuperior to any former one; as no
pains or expence have been fpared to render it com-
plete. The difagreeable Inconvenience refulting to
the Reader from the very confufed and irregular
Manner in which the Letters have been placed
throughout all the former Editions,not excepting
even the London Royal Quarto, which fells for
upwards of Ten Guineas- is effectually obviated
in This; as they fucceed each other in exact Chro-
nological Order.
VOL. I.
THE
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT.*
Taken from Mr. DEANE SWIFT's Effay.
SECT. I. in Yorkmire. From them defcended a
I.T HE family of the SWIFTS was ancient
noted perſon who paffed under the name of Cavatiero
Swift, a man of wit and humour. He was made an
Irish peer by King James or King Charles I. with the
title of Baron Carlingford, † but never was in that
kingdom. Many traditional pleaſant ftories are relat-
ed of him, which the family planted in Ireland hath
received from their parents. This Lord died without
iffue- male; and his heirefs, whether of the first or fe-
cond defcent, was married to Robert Fielding, Efq;
commonly called Handfome Fielding. She brought him
a confiderable eftate in Yorkshire, which he fquan-
dered away, but had no children. The Earl of Eglin-
ton married another co-heiress of the fame Family, as
he hath often told me.
Srcr. II. Another of the fame family was Sir Ed-
ward Swift, well known in the time of the great re-
bellion and ufurpation; but I am ignorant whether
he left heirs or no.
SECT. III. Of the other branch, whereof the great-
er part fettled in Ireland, the founder was William
Swift, prebendary of Canterbury, towards the laft
years of Queen Elizabeth, and during the reign of
King James I. He was a divine of fome diftinction.
There
*This little tract, Mr. Swift tells us, was written by Dr. Swift
about fix or eight and twenty years ago, as an introduction to his
life, which he had reafon to apprehend would fome time or other
become a topic of general converfation. Mr. Swift got the origi-
nal manufcript under the Doctor's own hand, from his friend and
coufin-german Mrs. Whiteway.
+ Bernam Swift, Efq; created Viſcount (not Baron) of Carling-
ford, in Ireland, March 20, 1627, the 3d of Charles I.
1 Dr. Swift is here mistaken. From the dedication of William
Swift's fermon, it appears, that Thomas, the Father of William,
was prefented in 1569 to the parish of St. Andrew in Canterbury;
and that, upon the deceafe of Thomas, William, in 1591, fucceed-
ed his father.
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT iii
There is a fermon of his extant, and the title is to be
ſeen in the catalogue of the Bodleian library; but I
never could get a copy, and I fuppofe it would now be
of little value.
*
SECT. IV. This William married the heiress of
Philpot, I fuppofe a Yorkshire gentleman, by whom
he got a very confiderable eſtate; which however ſhe
kept in her own power, I know not by what artifice, She
was a capricious, ill-natured, and paffionate woman, of
which I have been told feveral inftances. And it hath
been a continual tradition in the family, that ſhe ab-
folutely difinherited her only fon Thomas, for no
greater crime than that of robbing an orchard when he
was a boy. And thus much is certain, that, except a
church or chapter leafe, which was not renewed, Tho-
mas never enjoyed more than one hundred pounds a
year; which was all at Goodrich, in Herefordshire,
whereof not above one half is now in the poffeffion of a
great-grandfon. †
SECT. V. His original picture is now in the hands
of Godwin Swift, I of Dublin, Efq; his great-grand-
fon, as well as that of his wife's, who feems to have a
good deal of the fhrew in her countenance; whofe
arms as an heiress are joined with his own and by
the laſt he ſeems to have been a perfon fomewhat fan-
taftic; for there he gives as his device, a dolphin (in
thoſe days called a Swift) twifted about an anchor, with
this motto, Feftina lente.
SECT. VI. There is likewife a feal with the fame
coat of arms (his not joined with his wife's) which the
faid William commonly made ufe of; and this is alfo
now in the poffeffion of Godwin Swift | above men-
tioned.
аг
SECT. VII.
Rather a gentleman of Kent, or fome of the neighbouring
counties.
↑ Deane Swift, Efq;
I In the hands of Mrs. Elizabeth Swift, relict of Godwin
In the hands of Mrs. Swift above mentioned.
iv
FAMILY OF SWIFT.
THE
W
$
SECT. VII. His eldeft fon Thomas & feems to have
been a clergyman before his father's death.
He was
vicar of Goodrich, in Herefordshire, within a mile or
two of Rofs:* he had likewife another church-living,
with about one hundred pounds a-year in land, as I
have already mentioned. He built a houſe on his own
land in the village of Goodrich, † which, by the ar-
chitecture, denotes the builder to have been fomewhat
whimsical and fingular, and very much towards a pro-
jector. The houfe is above a hundred years old, and
ftill in good repair, inhabited by a tenant of the female
line ; but the landlord, a young gentleman, lives
upon his own eftate in Ireland.
SECT. VIII. This Thomas was diftinguished by his
courage, as well as his loyalty to K. Charles I. and the
fufferings he underwent for that prince more than any
perfon of his condition in England. Some hiftorians
of thofe times relate feveral particulars of what he act-
ed, and what hardships he underwent for the perfon
and cauſe of that bleffed martyred prince. He was
plundered by the round heads fix and thirty times,
fome fay above fifty. He mortgaged his fmall eftate,
and gathered all the money he could get, quilted it in
his waiſtcoat, got off to a town held for the King;
where being asked by the governor who knew him well,
what he could do for his Majefty? Mr. Swift ſaid he
would give the King his coat; and ftripping it off pre-
fented it to the governor; who obferving it to be worth
little, Mr. Swift faid, Then take my waistcoat. He
bid the governor weigh it in his hand; who ordered
it to be ripped, found it lined with three hundred
broad pieces of gold; which, as it proved a feaſonable
relief, muſt be allowed to be an extraordinary fupply
from a private clergyman with ten children, of a fmall
eftate, ſo often plundered, and foon after turned out of
his livings in the church.
+
រ
SECT. IX.
§ His only fon Thomas was a clergyman before his father's
death.
11
* Within four miles of Rofs,
+ Not in the village, but in the parish of Goodrich.
That tenant of the female line hath been dead thefe many
years.
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT.
SECT. IX. At another time, being informed that
three hundred horfe of the rebel-party intended in a
week to pafs over a certain river, upon an attempt
against the Cavaliers, Mr. Swift having a head mecha-
nically turned, he contrived certain pieces of iron with
three fpikes, whereof one muſt always be with the point
upwards. He placed them over night in the ford where
he received notice that the rebels would pafs early the
next morning; which they accordingly did, and loft
two hundred of their men, who were drowned, or trod
to death by the falling of their horfes, or torn by the
fpikes.
SECT. X. His fons, whereof four were fettled in
Ireland, (driven thither by their fufferings, and by the
death of their father,) related many other paffages,
which they learned either from their father himſelf, or
from what had been told them by the moſt credible
perfons of Hereford fhire, and fome neighbouring
counties; and which fome of thofe fons often told to
their children; many of which are ftill remembered,
but many more forgot.
SECT. XI. He was deprived of both his church-
livings fooner than most other loyal clergymen, upon
account of his fuperior zeal for the King's caufe, and
his eftate fequestered: His preferments, at least that of
Goodrich, were given to a fanatical faint; † who fcru-
pled not however to conform upon the reſtoration; and
lived many years, I think till after the revolution. F
have feen many perfons at Goodrich, who knew, and
told me his name, which I cannot now remember.
SECT. XII. The Lord Treafurer Oxford told the
Dean, that he had among his father's (Sir Edward Har-
ley's) papers, feveral letters from Mr. Thomas Swift
writ in thofe times, which he promiſed to give to the
grandfon,
* He should have faid five. I fuppofe he forgot Dryden Swift,
who died very young, and a batchelor, foon after he had come over-
to Ireland with his brothers.
+ Gyles Rawlins fuccecded him in the parish of Goodrich buti
the other here mentioned fucceeded Rawlins fome time before Octo-
ber 1657. His name was William Tringham.
VI
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT.
grandfon, whofe life I am now writing; but never go-
ing to his houfe in Herefordshire while he was Trea-
furer, and the Queen's death happening in three days.
after his removal, the Dean went to Ireland; and the
Earl being tried for his life, and dying while the Dean
was in Ireland, he could never get them.
SECT. XIII. Mr. Thomas Swift died in the year
1658, and in the [63d] year of his age. His body
lies under the altar at Goodrich, with a fhort infcrip-
tion. He died about two years before the return of
K Charles II. who by the recommendation of fome
prelates, had promifed if ever God fhould restore him,
that he would promote Mr. Swift in the church, and
otherwife reward his family, for his extraordinary fer-
vices and zeal, and perfecutions in the royal caufe:
but Mr. Swift's merit died with himfelf.
SECT. XIV. He left ten fons and three or four
daughters, most of which lived to be men and women.
His eldeſt fon Godwin Swift, of the inner-Temple,*
Efq; (fo ftyled by Guillim the herald, in whose book
the family is defcribed at large) was, I think, called
to the bar before the reitoration. He married a rela-
tion of the old Marchionels of Ormond; and upon
t' at account, as well as his father's loyalty, the old
Duke of Ormond made him his attorney-general in
the palatinate of Tipperary. He had four wives;
one of which, to the great offence of his family, was
co-heiress † to Admiral Deane, who was one of the
Regicides. Godwin left feveral children, who have
all ellates. He was an ill pleader, but perhaps a lit-
tie too dextrous in the fubtile parts of the law.
SECT. XV. The fecond fon of Mr. Thomas Swift
was called by the fame name, was bred at Oxford, and
took orders. He married the eldest daughter of Sir
William D'Avenant; but died young, and left only
one fon, who was alfo called Thomas, and is now rec-
tor of Puttenham in Surry. His widow lived long.
* Of Gray's inn, not of the Inner-temple.
Sole heirefs.
He died in May 1752. in the $7th year of his age
Was
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT. vii
was extremely poor, and in part fupported by the fa-
mous Dr. South, who had been her husband's intimate
friend.
SECT. XVI. The rest of his fons, as far as I can
call to mind, were Mr. Dryden Swift, (called fo af-
ter the name of his mother, who was a near relation
to Mr. Dryden the poet | William, Jonathan, and
Adam; who all lived and died in Ireland; but none of
them left male iffue, except Jonathan, who, befides a
daughter, left one fon, born feven months after his
father's death; of whofe life I intend to write a few
memorials.
SECT. XVII. J. S. D. D. and D. of St. P—
was the only fon of Jonathan Swift who was the fe-
venth or eight fen of Mr. Thomas Swift above menti-
oned, fo eminent for his loyalty and his fufferings.
SECT. XVIII. His father died young, about two
years after his marriage. He had ſome employ ments
and agencies. His death was much lamented on ac-
count of his reputation for integrity, with a tolerable
good underſtanding.
SECT. XIX. He married Mrs. Abigail Erick, of
Leicestershire, defcended from the most ancient family
of the Ericks; who derive their lineage from Erick
the Forefter, a great commander, who raiſed an army
to oppoſe the invafion of William the Conqueror; by
whom he was vanquished; but afterwards employed
to command that prince's forces and in his old age
retired to his houfe in Leicestershire, where his family
hath continued ever fince; but declining every age,
and are now in the condition of very private gea-
tlemen.
SECT. XX. This marriage was on both fides very
indifcreet: for his wife brought her husband little or
no fortune; and his death happening fo fuddenly
before he could make a fufficient establishment for his
She was aunt to the famous John Dryden.
He died at the age of about five and twenty.
family,
viii THE FAMILY OF SWIFT.
family, his fon (not then born) hath often been heard
to fay, that he felt the confequences of that marriage,
not only through the whole courſe of his education,
but during the greateft part of his life.
SECT. XXI. He was born in Dublin, on St. An-
drew's day. And when he was a year old, an event
happened to him that feems very unufual: for his
nurfe, who was a woman of Whitehaven, being un-
der an abfolute neceffity of feeing one of her relations,
who was then extremely fick, and from whom the ex-
pected a legacy; and being extremely fond of the in-
fant, the tole him on fhipboard unknown to his
mother and uncle, and carried him with her to
Whitehaven ; where he continued for almost three
years. For, when the matter was difcovered, his mo-
ther fent orders by all means not to hazard a fecond
voyage, till he could be better able to bear it. The
nurfe was fo careful of him, that before he returned he
had learned to fpell; and by the time that he was
three * years old, he could read any chapter in the
Bible.
SECT. XXII. After his return to Ireland, he was
fent at fix years old to the fchool of Kilkenny; from
whence, at fourteen, he was admitted into the univer-
fity at Dublin: where, by the ill treatment of his
neareſt relations, he was fo difcouraged and funk in
his fpirits, that he too much neglected fome parts of
his academic ſtudies; for which he had no great reliſh
by nature, and turned himself to reading history and
poetry: fo that when the time came for taking his de-
gree of Bachelor, although he had lived with great
regularity and due obfervance of the ftatutes, he was
topped of his degree for dulnefs and infufficiency;
and at laft hardly admitted, in a manner little to his
credit, which is called in that college fpeciali gratia.
And this difcreditable mark, as I am told, ftands upon
record in their college-registry.
SECT. XXIII. The troubles then breaking out, he
went to his mother, who lived in Leiceſter, and after
continuing
In the year 1667.
Hawkefworth fays five; and probably he is right,
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT. ix
continuing there fome months, he was received by Sir
friend
William Temple, whofe father had been a great
to the family, and who was now retired to his houſe
called Moorpark, near Farnham in Surrey, where he
continued for about two years: for he happened, be-
fore twenty years old, by a furfeit of fruit, to contract
a giddinefs and coldness of ftomach, that almost brought
him to his grave; and this diforder purfued him, with
intermiffions of two or three years, to the end of his
life. Upon this occafion he returned to Ireland, by
advice of phyficians, who weakly imagined, that
his native air might be of fome ufe to recover his
health. But growing worfe, he foon went back to Sir
William Temple; with whom growing into fome con-
fidence, he was often trufted with matters of great im-
portance. King William had a high eſteem for Sir
William Temple, by a long acquaintance while that
gentleman was ambaffador and mediator of a general
peace at Nimeguen. The King, foon after his expe-
dition to England, vifited his old friend often at
Sheen, and took his advice in affairs of the greateſt
confequence. But Sir William temple weary of living
fo near London, and refolving to retire to a more pri-
vate feene, bought an eftate near Farnham in Surry,
of about 100 l. a-ycar, where Mr. Swift accompanied
him.
SECT. XXIV. About that time a bill was brought:
into the house of Commons for triennial parliaments;.
against which the King, who was a firanger to our
conflitution, was very averfe, by the advice of fome
weak people, who perfuaded the Earl of Portland,
that King Charles I. loft his crown and life by con-
fenting to pafs fuch a bill. The Earl, who was a
weak man, came down to Moorpark, by his Majefty's
orders, to have Sir William Temple's advice; who
faid much to thew him the mistake: but he continued.
ftill to advise the King against paffing the bill. Where.
upon Mr. Swift was fent to Kenſington with the whole
account of that matter in writing, to convince the
King and the Earl how ill they were informed. He
a 5
told.
X
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT.
told the Earl, to whom he was referred by his Majelty.
(and gave it in writing,) that the ruin of King Char-
les I. was not owing to his paffing the triennial bill,
which did not hinder him from diffolving any parlia-
ment, but to the paffing another bill, which put it out
of his power to diffolve the parliament then in being
without the confent of the houſe. Mr. Swift, who
was wel verfed in English hiftory, although he was
then under twenty-one years old,* gave the King a
hort account of the matter, but a more large one to
the Earl of Portland; but all in vain for the King, .
by ill advifers, was prevailed upon to refufe paffing
the bill. This was the first time that Mr. Swift had
any converfe with courts; and he told his friends it
was the firſt incident that helped to cure him of vanity.
The confequence of this wrong ftep in his Majesty
was very unhappy for it put that prince under a ne-
ceffity of introducing thoſe people called Whigs into
power and employments, in order to parify them.
For although it be held a part of the King's prerogative
to refufe paffing a bill, yet the learned in the law think
otherwife, from that expreffion ufed at the coronation,
wherein the prince obligeth himſelf to confent to all
laws quas vulgus elegerit.
SECT. XXV. Mr. Swift lived with him (Sir Wil-
liam Temple) fome time; † but refolving to fettle
himſelf in ſome way of living, was inclined to take
orders. However, although his fortune was very ſmall,
he had a fcruple of entering into the church merely
for fupport; and Sir W. Temple, then being mafter
of the rolls in Ireland, offered him an employ of about
120l. a-year in that office: whereupon Mr. Swift
told him, that ſince he had now an opportunity of liv-
ing
* It was fift written, but afterwards erafed in the original ma-
nufcript, three and twenty years old; which in all probability
was right for Dr. Swift was twenty one years old the laſt day of
November 1688, and before that period there could have been no
uch bill under confideration.
:
That is, for the space of about five years and a half, from
1638 to ang4s
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT.
xi
ing without being driven into the church for a main-
tenance, he was refolved to go to Ireland and take holy
orders. † He was recommended to the Lord Capel,
then Lord Deputy, who gave him a prebend in the
north worth about 100l. a-year; of which growing
weary in a few months, he returned to England, re-
figned his living in favour of a friend, and continued
in Sir William Temple's houfe till the death of that
great man, who, befides a legacy, I left him the care,
and truft, and advantage of publishing his pofthumous
writings.
SECT. XXVI. Upon this event Mr. Swift removed
to London, and applied by petition to King William,
upon the claim of a promife his Majeſty had made to
Sir W. Temple, that he would give Mr. Swift a pre-
bend of Canterbury or Weſtminiſter. The Earl of
Rumney, who profeffed much friendſhip for him, pro-
mifed to fecond his petition; but as he was an old,
vitious, illiterate rake, without any fenfe of truth or
honour, faid not a word to the King. And Mr. Swift,
after long attendance in vain, thought it better to com-
ply with an invitation given him by the Earl of
Berkeley to attend him to Ireland, as his chaplain and
private fecretary, his Lordship having been appointed
one of the Lords Juftices of that kingdom. He attend-
ed his Lordthip, who landed near Waterford: and Mr.
Swift acted as fecretary during the whole journey to
Dublin. But another perfon had fo far infinuated him-
felf into the Earl's favour, by telling him, that the
poft of fecretary was not proper for a clergyman, nor
would be of any advantage to one who only aimed at
church preferments, that, his Lordship, after a poor
apology, gave that office to the other.*
SECT. XXVII..
An answer extremely polite, and feemingly adorned with gra-
titude; but at the fame time extremely refolute, and worthy of
himfelf
Suppoſed to be 500l.
See a poem upon this incident, in vol 7. p. 134.
xii
THE FAMILY OF SWIFT.
SECT. XXVII. In fome months the deanery of Der-
ry fell vacant, and it was the Earl of Berkeley's
turn to diſpoſe of it; yet things were fo ordered, that
the ſecretary having received a bribe, the deanery was
difpofed of to another, and Mr. Swift was put off
with ſome other church-livings not worth above a third
part of that rich deanery, and at this prefent not a
fixth. The excufe pretended was his being too young,
although he was then thirty years old. †
He was then upwards of two and thirty years old.
N B. All the notes in this tract, except the laft in p. viii, and
the laft in p. xi. are taken from Mr. Deane Swift.
An
An ACCOUNT of the LIFE of Doctor
JONATHAN SWIFT, Dean
of ST. PATRICK'S DUBLIN.
A
LATE writer juſtly obferves, that "there has
rarely paſſed a life of which a judicious and
faithful narrative would not be useful. For" (adds
not only every man has, in the mighty maſs of
"the world, great numbers in the fame condition
"with himſelf, to whom his mistakes and mifcar-
he) ..
riages, eſcapes and expedients, would be of imme-
"diate and apparent ufe; but there is fuch an uni-
formity in the ſtate of man, if it be confidered
"apart from adventitious and feparable decorations
and difguifes, that there is fcarce any poffibility
"of good or ill, but is common to human-kind. Á
great part of the time of thoſe who are placed at
the greateſt diſtance by fortune, or by temper, muit
unavoidably paſs in the fame manner: and though
"when the claims of nature are fatisfied, caprice, and
"vanity, and accident begin to produce difcriminati-
ons and peculiarities; yet the eye is not very heedful
or quick, which cannot diſcover the fame caufes ftill
terminating their influence in the fame effects,
"though fometimes accelerated, fometimes retarded,
or perplexed by multiplied combinations. We are
"all prompted by the fame motives, all deceived by
the fame fallacies, all animated by hope, obftructed
by danger, intangled by defire, and feduced by
"pleaſure."*
If a faithful and judicious narrative of an ordinary
life would be ſo apparently uſeful; ftill greater utility
may be expected to arife from that of the life of one
who has made an illuftrious figure on the ftage of the
world, and employed his talents in the fervice of man-
kind and his country. Dr. Swift was certainly a man
of that diſtinguiſhed character. He was eminent for
his genius, his learning, his charities, and many vir-
The Rambler, Numb. 60.
tues :
xiv
OF
AN
ACCOUNT
73
:
tues: and though he had faults, yet his faults were out-
numbered by his virtues and as the failings of great
men are to be carefully avoided, their virtues command
respect, and are proper objects of imitation.
An ac-
count, therefore, of the life and character of the cele-
brated Dr. Swift cannot but be highly agreeable to the
reader, and will, it is hoped, afford both delight and
inftruction.i
Dr. Jonathan Swift was defcended from a younger
branch of an ancient family of that name in York-
ſhire. But the account of his family fhall be as ſhort
as poffible; fince, (as Lord Orrery obferves,) though.
his anceflors were perions of very decent and reputable
characters, [and the elder branch of the family enno-
bled,] he himself has been the herald to blazon the
dignity of their coat. Bernam Swift, Efq; otherwife
called Cavaliero Swift, a gentleman of great wit and
humour, who, in the reign of K. James I. poffeffed
the paternal eſtate, was, on the 20th of March 1627,
by K. Charles 1. created a Peer of Ireland, by the title
of Lord Viscount Carlingford, though it is faid he
never went into that kingdom. He died without malc
iffue; and the family inheritance defcended to his
daughters; one of whom married Robert Fielding,
commonly called Handfome Fielding, and the other
the Earl of Eglington. Fielding foon diffipated his
wife's patrimony; and that of her fifter being trans-
ferred to the family of Lord Eglinton, the principal
ettate of the Swifts was divided from the name for
ever. [Sketch, § 1]
One of the younger branches from the fame ſtem,
was Sir Edward Swift, who diftinguiſhed himself by
his attachment to the royal caufe in the war between
King Charles I. and his parliament, from whom there
is no defcendent of the name. [Sketch, § 2.]
Another of the younger branches was the Rev. Mr.
Thomas Swift, vicar of Goodrich, Herefordſhire,
with which he alſo held another ecclefiaftical living.
His father William Swift, rector of St. Andrew's in
Canterbury, married the heiress of Philpot; who con-
trived
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
XV
trived to keep her estate, which was very confiderable,
in her own hands. She is faid to have been extremely
capricious and ill-natured, and to have difinherited her
fon Thomas, an only child, merely for robbing an or-
chard when he was a boy. But however this be, it is
certain, that except a church or chapter leafe, which
was not renewed, Thomas never poffeffed more than
1001. a-year. [Sketch, § 4.] This little eftate, which
lay at Goodrich, in Herefordshire, he mortgaged for
300 broad pieces; and having quilted them into his
waiſtcoat, he fet out for Ragland caftle, whither King
Charles I. had retired after the battle of Nafcby, in
1645. The Governor, who well knew him aſked
what was his errand?" I am come," faid Swift,
6
" to
give his Majefty my coat ;" at the fame time pul-
ling it off, and prefenting it. The Governor told him
pleafantly, that his coat was worth little. Why
then," faid Swift, "take my waistcoat." This was
foon found to be an ufeful garment by its weight; and
it is remarked by Lord Clarendon, that the king re-
ceived no fupply more feafonable or acceptable than
theſe 300 broad pieces during the whole war, his dif
treſs being then very great, and his refources cut off.
The zeal and activity of this gentleman for the royal
caule expofed him to much danger, and many fufferings.
He was plundered more than thirty times by the par-
liament's army, and was ejected from his church livings,
his eftate was fequeſtered, and he was himſelf thrown
into prifon. His eftate, however, was afterwards re-
covered, and part of it fold to pay the money due on
the mortgage, and fome other debts; the remainder,
being about one half, defcended to his heir, and is now
poffeffed by his great-grandfon, Deane Swift, Efq;*
[Sketch, § 8]
This Mr. Thomas Swift married Mrs. Elizabeth
Dryden, of an ancient family in Huntingdon fhire,
fifter to the father of the famous John Dryden the poet;
by whom he had ten fons and four daughters. He died
in
The grandmother of this gentleman, one of the wives of God-
win Swift, was heiress to Adm. Deane, one of the Regicides; whence
Deane became a christian name in the family. [Ske.ch, § 14.]
xvi
OF
AN ACCOUNT
in 1658; and of his fons, fix furvived him, Godwin,
Thomas, Dryden, William, Jonathan, and Adam.
[Sketch, § 14. 15. 16.]
Thomas was bred at Oxford and took orders. He
married the eldest daughter of Sir William D'Avenant;
but dying young, he left only one fon, whoſe name
alfo was Thomas, and who died in May 1752, in the
87th year of his age, rector of Puttenham, in Surrey,
a benefice which he had poffed fixty years. [Sketch, §5]
Godwin was a barrister of Gray's inn; and William,
Dryden, Jonathan, and Adam, were attorneys.
Godwin having married a relation of the old Marchi-
nefs of Ormond, the old Duke of Ormond made him
his attorney-general in the palatinate of Tipperary in
Ireland. Ireland was at this time almoft without law –
yers, the rebellion having made almost every man, of
whatever condition, a foldier. Godwin therefore de-
termined to attempt the acquifition of a fortune in that
kingdom; and the fame motives induced his four bro-
thers to go with him. Godwin foon became wealthy;
and the reſt obtained fomething more than a genteel
competence; though Dryden and Jonathan, who died
foon after their arrival, had little to bequeath. [Sketch,
§ 14. 16.]
Jonathan at the age of about three and twenty, and
before he went to Ireland, married Mrs. Abigail Erick,
of Leicestershire. * The family of this lady was de-
fcended from Erick the Forefter, who raiſed an army
to oppofe William the Conqueror; by whom he was
vanquished, and afterwards made commander of his
forces. But whatever was the honour of her lineage,
her fortune was fmall; and about two years after her
marriage,
* This lady was greatly beloved and esteemed by all the family
of the Swifts. Hei converfation was extremely polite, chearful,
and agreeable. She was of a generous and hofpitable nature, very
exact in all the dutics of religion, attended the public worship ge-
nerally twice a-day, was a very caily rifer; and was always dreffed
for the whole day at about fix o'clock in the morning. Her chief
amufements were needle-work and reading. She was equally fond of
both her children, notwithstanding fome disagreements that fubfift..
ed between them. D. S. p. 22. 23.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xvii
marriage, he was left a widow with one child, a
daughter, and pregnant with another; having no
means of fubfiftence but an annuity of 201. which her
huſband had purchaſed for her in England, imme-
diately after his marriage. [Sketch § 19.]
In this diftrefs fhe was taken with her daughter into
the family of Godwin, her husband's eldeft brother;
and, on the 30th of November, 1667, about faven
months after her husband's death, fhe was, in Hoey's-
alley, in the parish of St. Werburgh, Dublin, deli-
vered of a fon, whom he called Jonathan in remem-
brance of his father, and who was afterwards the cele-
brated Dean of St. Patrick's. [D S. p. 22 ]
Of all the brothers of Mrs. Swift's hatband, Tho-
mas excepted. Godwin only had fons; and by these
fons ſhe was fubfifted in her old age, as he had been
before by their father and their uncles, with fuch li-
berality, that he declared herſelf not only happy but
rich. [D. S. p. 23.]
:
It happened, by whatever accident, that Jonathan
was not fuckled by his mother, but by a nurfe, who
was a native of Whitehaven and when he was about
a year old, her affection for him was become ſo ſtrong,
that finding it neceffary to vint a relation who was
dangerously fick, and from whom the expected a legacy,
ſhe found means to convey the child on ſhipboard, with-
out the knowledge of his mother or his uncle, and car-
ried him with her to Whitehaven. At this place he
continued near three years? for when the matter was
difcovered, his mother fent orders not to hazard a fe-
cond voyage, ull he fhould be better able to bear
it. The nurfe however gave other teftimonies of her
affection to Jonathan : for, during his ftay at White-
haven, ſhe had taught him to ſpell; and when he was
five years old, he was able to read any chapter in the
Bible. [Sketch, § 21. O. let. 1.]
Mrs. Swift, about two years after her husband's
death, quitted the family of Mr. Godwin Swift, in
Ireland, and retired to Leiceſter, the place of her nati-
vity but her fon was again carried to Ireland by his
:
nurfe,
xviii
OF
AN ACCOUNT
nurfe, and replaced under the protection of his uncle
Godwin. [O. let 1.]
It has been generally believed, that Swift was born
in England: a mistake to which many incidents befides
this have contribu ed. He had been frequently heard
to fay, when the people of lieland difpleafed him,
"I am not of this vile country, I am an Englishman;”
and would infift, that he was stolen from England when
a child, and brought over to Ireland in a band-box.
Mr. Pope alfo, in one of his letters to him, mentions
England as his native country. But whatever the
motives were that prevailed on Dr. Swift to ſpeak in
this manner, they were not borrowed from any fort of
contempt which he had fe.retly entertained againit
Ireland confidered merely as a nation, but rather pro-
ceeded from feveral other fources, which will appear
afterward. [D. S p. 26.] This account of his birth
is taken from that which he left behind him in his
own hand writing; and while he lived, he was fo far
from feriously denying or concealing his being a na.
tive of Ireland, that he often mentioned, and even
pointed out the houſe in which he was born.
He has alſo been thought by fome to have been a
natural fon of Sir William Temple: a mistake which
was probably founded upon another for till the
publication of his letter to Lord Vifc, Palmerſton,
among his pofthumous works, he was thought to
have received fuch favours from Sir William as he
could not be fuppofed to bestow upon a perſon to
whom he was not related, and but diftantly related to
his wife. * However, fuch a relation between Sir
*
William
In the year of the revolution, his uncle Godwin Swift had
fallen into a kind of lethargy, or dotage, which deprived him by
degrees of his fpeech and memory, and rendered him totally incapa-
ble of being of the leaſt ſervice to his family and friends. But, in
the midst of this diſtreſsful fituation, as if it was ordained that no
incident ſhould bereave mankind of fuch a genius, Sir William
Temple (whofe lady was related to Dr. Swift's mother) moft ge-
nerously ftept in to his affiftance, and avowedly fupported his educa-
tion at the university of Oxford. Acts of generofity feldom meet
with
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xix
William and the dean appears beyond contradiction to
have been impoffible; for Sir William Temple was re-
fident abroad in a public character from the year 1665
to 1670, firſt at Bruffels and afterwards at the Hague ;
as may be proved by his letters to the Earl of Arlington,
and the rest of the ministry: fo that Dr. Swift's mo-
ther, who never crofied the fea, except from England
to Ireland, was out of all poffibility of a perfonal cor-
refpondence with Sir William Temple, till fome
years after her fon's birth; who, as before obſerved.
was born in 1667. [O. let. 1.]
:
At about the age of fix years [1673] he was fent to
the fchool of Kilkenny and having continued there
eight years, he was at the age of fourteen [1681] ad-
mitted into the univerfity of Dublin, and became a
tudent in Trinity college. There he lived in perfect
regularity, and obeyed the ftatutes with the atmoft ex-
afness. But the morofenefs of his temper often ren-
dered him very unacceptable to his companions; fo
that he was little regarded, and lefs beloved: and he
was fo much depreffed by the diſadvantages of his fi-
tuation, deriving his prefent fubfiftence merely from
the precarious bounty of an uncle, and having no
other object of hope but the continuance of it, that
he
with their juft applaufe, Sir William Temple's friendſhip was im-
mediately construed to proceed from a confcioufnefs, that he was the
real father of Mr. Swift; otherwiſe it was thought impoffible, that
he could be to uncommonly munificent to a young man, no wife re-
lated to him, and but diftantly related to his wife. I am not quite
certain, that Swift himſelf himself did not acquiefce in the calum-
ny. Perhaps, like Alexander, he though the natural fon of Jupiter
would appear greater than the legitimate fon of Philip. O. let. 2.
* While Swift was at the university, one day as he was looking
out of his window penfive and melancholy, his pockets being then
at the loweſt ebb, he fried a master of a ship gizing about in the
college courts. Lord, thought he, if that perion ſhould now be in-
quiring and flaring about for my chamber, in order to bring me fome
prefent from my coutin Willoughby Swift, what a happy creature
should I be ! He had fource amuſed himſelf with this pleafing ima-
gination, when behold the shipmafter having come into his cham-
ber, afked him if his name was Jonathan Swift? who having told
bim it was; Why then, faid the other, I have fomething for yon
that
XX
OF
AN ACCOUNT
*
he could not refift the temptation to neglect many ne-
ceffary objects of academic ftudy, to which he was not
by nature much inclined, and apply himfelf wholly to
books of history and poetry; by which he could, with-
out intellectual labour, fill his mind with pleafing
images, and for a while fufpend the fenfe of his condi-
tion. The facrifice of the future to the prefent, whe-
ther it be a folly or a fault, is feldom unpunished; and
Swift foon found himself in the fituation of a man who
had burned his bed to warm his hands; for at the end
of four years, in the year 1685, he was refufed his de-
gree
of Bachelor of Arts for infufficiency, and was at
Taft admitted fpeciali gratia, which is there confidered
as the highest degree of reproach and difhonour. It is
(fays Lord Orrery) a kind of dishonourable degree;
and the record of it, notwithstanding Dr. Swift's pre-
fent eſtabliſhed character throughout the learned world,
muft for ever remain againſt him in the academical
regiſter at Dublin. [Sketch, § 22.] †
But
Whereupon he
and poured him
As this fum was
that was fent to you by Mr. Willoughby Swift.
drew out of his pocket a large greaſy leather bag,
out all the money that it contained on the table.
greater than ever Swift had been maſter of at any one time before,
he pushed over, without reckoning them, a good number of the filver
cobs (for it was all in that ſpecie) to the honeſt failor, and deſired
he would accept of them for his trouble. But the failor would not
touch a farthing. No, no, Mafter, faid he. I'fe take nothing for my
trouble; I would do more than that comes to for Mr. Willoughby
Swift. Whereupon Mr. Swift gathered up the money as fast as he
could, and thruſt it into his pocket: for, by the Lord Harry, faid
he when relating this story, I was afraid if the money had lain
much longer upon the table, he might have repented his gencrofity,
and taken a good part of it. But from that time forward, he de-
clared that he became a better economiit, and never was without
fome little money in his pocket. D. S. p. 54, 55.
*He held logic and metaphyfics in the utinoft contempt, and he
ſcarce confidered mathematics and natural philofophy, unleſs to turn
them into ridicule. Orrery, let. 1.
+ Ambition could fcarce have met with a feverer blow. Her
cules found himſelf ſet aſide for want of ftrength, or, if admitted
among the wrestlers, admitted only by favour and indulgence; yet
ftill he must be confcious that he was Hercules. Difappointments,
the earlier they happen in life, the deeper impreffion they make
upon
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xxi
་
But upon Swift this punishment was not ineffectual.
He dreaded the repetition of fuch a difgrace as the lat
evil that could befal him, and therefore immediately
let about to prevent it as the principal buſineſs of his
life. During feven years from that time he ſtudied
eight hours a day [J. R. p. 50.]; and by fuch an
effort of ſuch a mind fo long continued, great know-
ledge must neceffarily have been acquired. He com-
menced theſe ftudies at the univerfity in Dublin,
where he continued them three years, till 1688; and
during this time he alfo drew the firſt ſketch of his
Tale of a Tub. I
In 1688, when he was about twenty-one, and had
been ſeven years at the college, his uncle Godwin was
feized with a lethargy, and foon after totally deprived
both of his ſpeech and his memory. As by this accident
Swift was left without fupport, he took a journey to
Leiceſter, that he might confult with his mother what
courſe of life to purfue. At this time Sir William
Temple was in high reputation, and honoured
with the confidence and familiarity of K. William.
[D. S. p. 33. 34.] His father, Sir John Temple, had
been Maſter of the Rolls in Ireland, and contracted an
intimate friendſhip with Godwin Swift, which con-
tinued till his death; and Sir William, who inherited
his title and eftate, had married a lady to whom Mrs.
Swift was related. She therefore adviſed her fon to
communicate his fituation to Sir William, and folicit
his direction what to do. This advice, which perhaps
only confirmed a refolution that Swift had fecretly ta-
ken before he left Ireland, he immediately refolved to
puríue.
upon the heart.
Sir
Swift was full of indignation at the treatment
which he had received in Ireland, and therefore refolved to purluz
his ftudies at Oxford. Orrery, let. 1.
Waffendon Warren, Efq; a gentleman of fortune near Belfast,
in the north of Ireland, who was chamber-fellow with Dr. Swift,
declared, that he then faw a copy of the Tale of a Tub in Swift's
own hand writing. D. S. p. 31
xxii
OF
AN ACCOUNT
Sir
Sir William received him [in 1690] with great kind-
nefs, and Swift's firft vifit continued two years.
William had been ambaffador and mediator of a ge-
neral peace at Nimeguen before the revolution. In
this character he became known to the Prince of
Orange, who afterwards, when King, frequently vi-
fited him at Sheen, and took his advice in affairs of
the utmost importance. [Sketch § 23.] Sir William
being then lame with the gout, Swift ufed to attend
his Majeſty in his walks about the garden; who ad-
mitted him to fuch familiarity, that he fhewed him
how to cut aſparagus after the Dutch manner, and once
offered to make him a captain of horſe. [D. S. p. 108.]
Swift appears to have fixed his mind very early upon
an ecclefiaftical life; and it is therefore probable,
that, upon declining this offer, he obtained a promiſe,
of preferment in the church; for in a letter to his un-
cle William Swift, dated in 1692, he fays, "I am
not to take orders till the King gives me a prebend."
Sir William becoming ftill more infirm and withing
to retire farther from London, bought an eſtate at
Farnham in Surrey, called Moorpark, whither he was
accompanied by Swift. [Sketch, § 23.] About this
time a bill was brought into the house for triennial
parliaments; against which the King, who was a
tranger to to the English conftitution, was very averfe,
by the advice of fome weak people, who perfuaded
the Earl of Portland, that Charles I. loft his crown
and life by confenting to fuch a bill [Sketch, § 23. 24.]
Upon
*There is fome difficulty in reconciling the firſt and laſt para-
graphs of fect. 23 in the Dean's ſketch of his own life, where Moor-
park is mentioned. In the first it is faid, that Swift, after having
been fome months with his mother at Leiceſter, was received by
Sir William, who was "now retired to Moorpark ;" and in the laft,
that Sir William, tired of being near London, bought an eftate near
Farnham in Surrey, "where Mr. Swift accompanied him." The
Senfe of the last, which feems to imply that Swift lived with Sir
William at Sheen 'before' he went to Moorpark, is adopted upon
the credit of Mr. Deane Swift, who fays, that Swift was there fa-
miliar with King William; and the King does not appear to have
continued his vifits after the removal to Moorpark. Hawkef.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xxiii
Upon this occafion the Earl was by the King difpatch-
ed to Moorpark, for Sir William's advice; who faid
much to fhew him the mistake, but without effect ;
and therefore he foon afterwards difpatched Swift to
Kenfington, with the whole account in writing to
convince the King and the Earl how ill they were in-
formed. Swift, though he was then very young, was
yet well acquainted with the English hiftory, and gave
the King a compendious account of the matter, which
he amplified to the Earl. But the meaſure was at laſt
rejected; † and thus ended Swift's first embaſſy to
court, fo much to his diffatisfaction, that he then de-
clared it was the firſt incident that helped to cure him
of vanity. [Sketch, § 24] Soon after this tranf-
action he was feized with the return of a diforder
which he had contracted in Ireland by eating a great
quantity of fruit; and upon this occafion returned
thither by the advice of his phyficians, who hoped
that his native air would contribute to the recovery of
his health. But from this journey he received no be-
nefit; and therefore in a fhort time returned to Sir
William, being ever afterwards fubject to that giddi-
nefs, which gradually increafed, though with irregu-
lar intermiffions, till it terminated in total debility of
body and mind. *
But
+ The confequence of this wrong ftep, (fays Dr. Swift, in this
Sketch, 24,) was very unhappy; for it put K. William under a
n.ceffity of introducing thofe people called Whigs, into power and
employments, in order to pacify them. For although it be held a
part of the King's prerogative to refufe paffing a bill, yet the learned
in the law think otherwife, from that expreffion uſed at the coro-
nation, wherein the prince obligeth himfelf to confent to all laws,
quas vulgus elegerit,'
It must have been after, though it is firft related in the ſketch;
for it is faid, fect. 23. that he went to Ireland after he had been two
years at Moorpark; and in feet. 24. that his expedition to court was
foon after the removal from Sheen. Hawkef.
* To this furfeit (fays Lord Orrery) I have often heard him af-
cribe that giddinefs in his head, which, with intermiflions fome-
times of a longer and fometimes of a thorter continuance, puriued
him till it ſeemed to complete its conquest, by rendering him the
exact
xxiv
ACCOUNT OF
AN
But he was ftill indefatigable in his ftudies; and to
prevent the lofs of health in the acquifition of know-
ledge, by the want of bodily exercife, it was his con-
ftant practice to run up an hill that was near the houſe
and back again every two hours. The diſtance back-
wards and forwards was about half a mile, and he
ufed to run it in about fix minutes. [D. S. p. 272.]
By what books his ftudies were principally directed,
cannot certainly be known. But feveral copious ex-
tracts from Cyprian, Irenæus, Sleidan's Commen-
taries, and Padre Paolo's hiftory of the council of Trent,
were found among his papers, which appear, by me-
morandums in his own hand-writing, to have been
made while he lived with Sir William Temple. [D. S.
p. 276.1
About a year after his return from Ireland, he
thought it expedient to take his degree of Mafter
of Arts at Oxford. With this view he appears
to have written to his uncle William Swift, to
procure and fend him the teftimonium of his Bache-
lor's degree. With this teftimonium, which is dated
May 3, 1692, he went to Oxford; where having re-
ceived many civilities, he was admitted ad cundem
June 14, and took his Maſter's degree July 5, fol-
lowing.
It has been faid, that the civilities, which he receiv-
ed at Oxford, proceeded from a mifunderſtanding of
the phrafe fpeciali gratia, which was there fuppofed to
be a compliment paid to uncommon merit. [D. S. p.
30. 44. O. let. 1.] But thefe words are not to be
found in that copy of the teftimonium which is entered
in the congregation-book at Oxford ;* and not to have
inferted
exact image of one of his own Struldbruggs, a miferable fpectacle,
devoid of every appearance of human nature, except the outward
form.
• The certificate of his degree is as follows.
"Omnibus quorum intereft falutem. Nos præpofitus fociique fe-
"niores Collegii Sacro-fanctæ et Individua Trinitatis juxta Dub-
"lin, teftamur JONATHAN SWIFT die decimo quinto Februarii
" 1685
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
XXV
inferted them there, when they were thought a com-
pliment, would have been an affront. It is therefore
probable, that, by the influence of Swift's uncle, they
were omitted in the copy which he procured and fent;
eſpecially as fome fuch favour ſeems to be intimated in
Swift's letter to him, after he had received it: I am
"ftill," fays he, to thank you for your care' in
my teftimonium; and it was to a very good purpoſe,
"for' I was never more fatisfied than in the beha-
"viour of the univerfity." The civilities which he
received at Oxford, might indeed proceed from his
known connection with Sir William Temple; but he
might reaſonably impute them alfo to the fuppreffion
of a reproach against which there was good reafon to
fear this connection would not have fupported him :
nor is it ftrange, that Swift, after his reputation was
eftabliſhed, ſhould, while he was fporting with this
incident in the gaiety of his heart, pretend a miſ
take which never happened, or that which he meant
as a jeft upon the univerfity, fhould be feriously re-
membered as an event of his life.
VOL. I.
b
It
"1685 gradum Baccalaureatûs in artibus fufcepiffe, præftito priùs
"fidelitatis erga Regiam Majeftatem juramento; quod de prædicto
"teftimonium, fubfcriptis fingulorum nominibus, et collegii figillo
"quo in hifce utimur, confirmandu.n curavimus. Datum die tertio
“ Maii 1692.
CC
ROB. HUNTINGTON, Præpof. L. S.
ST. GEORGE ASHE,
RICH. READER.
GEO. BROWN,
BEN. SCROGGS.
<Quibus in venerabili congregatione magiftrorum regentium
14 die Junii 1592 habita publicatis, JONATHAN SWIFT
(gratiâ priùs petitâ et conceffâ) ad eundem gradum, ftatum, et dig-
"nitatem, admiffus fuit, apud Oxonienfes, quibus infignitus crat
apud fuos Dublinienfes.'
<< 10 Nov. 1753,
" vera copia
"RIC. RAWLINSON."
D. S. p. 43. 44:
JONATHAN SWIFT, M. A
Hart Hall, July 5, 1692.
XXVi AN ACCOUNT
OF
It has alſo been faid, that, upon his difgrace at
Dublin, he refolved to purfue his ftudies at Oxford,
where he almoſt conftantly refided during three years,
and was avowedly fupported by Sir William Temple.
[O. let. 2.]* But the contrary is inconteftably true;
for there are not quite two months between the date
of his teftimonium, and his taking his Master's degree.
Befides, in the letter to his uncle juft mentioned, he
fays, "I am ashamed to be more obliged in a few
weeks, to ftrangers, than in feven years to Dublin
"college. +"
From Oxford he returned again to Moor-park,
where he affifted Sir William Temple to reviſe his
works, I corrected and improved his Tale of a Tub,
and added the digreffions. From the converfation of
Sir William, who was minutely acquainted with all
the intricacies of party, and the fecrets of ftate, during
the reigns of K. Charles II. and K. James II. Swift
greatly increafed his political knowledge. But hav-
ing long fufpected Sir William of neglecting to pro-
vide for him, merely that he might keep him in his
family, he at length refented it fo warmly, that, in
1604, a quarrel enfued and they parted.
It is probable that Swift did not leave Sir William
for fuch a reafon without ſevere expoftulation, not only
becauſe Swift was no refpecter of perfons, but becauſe
it appears that Sir William, though he was extremely
angry,
* See the note above, p. xviii.
+ He went to college, at the age of fourteen, in 1681; continu-
ed there feven years, as appears by his letter; fo that he did not
leave Ireland till 1688. He was fome months with his mother be-
fore he went to Sir William, and two years with him before he
went to Ireland for his health, which must therefore be in 1691:
He returned from Ireland, and continued fome time longer with Sir
William before he went to Oxford; which must therefore be in
in 1692: and in that very year he took his degree. The fact there-
fore which, Lord Orrery fays, was immediately conftrued to favour
an opinion that Swift was Sir William's natural fon, appears never
to have happened. See Swift's fketch of his own life. Hawkef.
Swift tranflated for Sir William, his letters out of the original
French into English. D. S. p. 99.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xvvii
angry, admitted his claim to fome provifion, by offer-
ing to make him his deputy as Mafter of the Rolls in
Ireland. This offer however Swift did not accept; but
replied, that fince he had now an opportunity of living
without being driven into the church for fupport, a
fcruple which had hitherto kept him out of it, he was
determined to go into Ireland and take orders.
•
Swift, during his refidence with Sir William, had
never failed to viſit his mother at Leiceſter once a-year ;
and his manner of travelling was very extraordinary.
He always went on foot, except the weather was very
bad; and then he would fometimes take fhelter in a
waggon. He chofe to dine at obfcure alehouſes among
pedlars and hoftlers, and to lie where he faw written
over the door Lodgings for a penny;' but he uſed to
bribe the maid with a tefter for a fingle bed and clean
fheets. He delighted (fays Lord Orrery) in fcenes of
low life. The vulgar dialect was not only a fund of
humour for him, but I verily believe was acceptable
to his nature; otherwiſe I know not how to account
for the many filthy ideas and indecent expreffions (I
mean indecent in point of cleanliness and delicacy) that
will be found throughout his works. †
b. 2
In
+ When Swift was a young man, he was prodigiously fond of
rambling even before his pocket could afford the common expences
of a journey and therefore we cannot but applaud his manner of
travelling; fin e travel about he certainly must, or elſe die of the
Spleen. Oxford, Dublin, London, Moorpark, and Leicefler were at
various times the places of his abode; but Leicester in particular,
during his mother's life, he commonly vifited once a-year, let his
general refidence have been where it would. In fhort upon his own
feet he ran like a buck from one place to another. Gates, files,
and quickſets, he no more valued than if they had been ſo many
ftraws. His conftitution was ftrong, and his limbs were active-His
company in thoſe flights were, I believe all forts of people, which he
met in towns and villages where he chanced to refreſh himſelf;
ſome chat for an hour, and again to the fields. His imaginaiton was
always alive, and perhaps, beyond all others, he had a power to con-
ciliate his ideas to the feveral capacities of all human race, and ot
the fame time catch entertainment to himſelf from every fpecies of
underſtanding; agreeable to what is faid in that panegyric on the
Dean written in the perfon of a lady in the north of Ireland.
xxviii
OF
AN ACCOUNT
In this manner he went down to his mother upon
his leaving Sir William, and from Leiceſter he wrote
a letter, dated June 1694, to his coufin Dean
Swift, then at Liſbon; in which he relates his
quarrel with Sir William, and declares his pur-
pofe to take orders in the September following,
wishing he could procure for him the chaplain fhip of
the factory.
What was the effect of this letter, is not known;
but Swift foon after obtained a recommendation (fup-
pofed to be from Sir William Temple) to Lord Capel,
then Lord Deputy of Ireland, who gave him the pre-
bend of Kilrbot, in the dioceſe of Connor, a northern
diſtrict, worth about 100l. a year.* But Sir William,
who had been uſed to the converfation of Swift, foon
found that he could not be content to live without
him; he therefore urged him to refign his prebend in
favour of a friend, and promiſed to obtain preferment
for him in England, if he would return.† Swift con-
fented;
Whene'er you joke, 'tis all a caſe
Whether with Dermot, or his Grace;
With Teague (O'Murphy, or an Earl,
A Duchefs or a kitchen-girl.
With fuch dexterity you fit
Their fev'ral talents with your wit,
That Moll the chambermaid can fmoke,
And Gahagan take ev'ry joke.
Vol. 6. p. 362.
However, the Doctor hath often told his friends, that whatever
money he faved by this manner of travelling, he conftantly threw
it away, as foon as he went to London upon a fine waistcoat, or
fome additional gaiety upon a fuit of cloaths. D. S. p. 99, 100, 1.
* Swift foon grew weary of this preferment. It was not fuffici-
ently confiderable, and was at fo great a distance from the metropo-
lis, that it abfolutely deprived him of that kind of converfation
and fociety in which he delighted.
He had been uſed to very dif-
ferent fcenes in England, and had naturally an averfion to folitude
and retirement. He was glad therefore to refign his prebend in fa-
vour of a friend, and to return to Sheen, &c. Orrery, let. 2.
↑ This appears by a Letter from Swift's fifter, then in Ireland,
to her coufin Deane in Portugal, dated May 26, 1699. "My
poor brother" fays he) has loft his best friend Sir William
"Temple,
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xxix
fented; and Sir William was fo much pleafed with
this act of kindness, that during the remainder of his
life, which was about four years, his behaviour was
fuch as produced the utmost harmony between them.
Swift, as a teftimony of his friendship and efteem wrote
the battle of the books, of which Sir William is the
hero; and Sir William, when he died, left him a pe-
cuniary legacy, (fuppofed to have been about 500l.)
and his polthumous works. [Sketch,§ 25.]
What other favours he received from Sir William,
cannot certainly be known. Swift acknowledged none
but his ineffectual recommendation to K. William ; and
he is known to have received frequent remittances from
his uncle William, and his uncle Willoughby Swift:
fo that Sir William does not feem to have treated him
with a liberality for which it is difficult to account.
Upon the death of Sir William Temple, Swift ap-
plied by petition to K. William for the first vacant pre-
bend of Canterbury or Weftminster, for which the royal
promife had been obtained by his late patron, whofe
pofthumous works he dedicated to his Majeſty, to fa-
cilitate the fuccefs of this application.
But it does
not appear, that, after the death of Sir William, the
King took the leaft notice of Mr. Swift.* His peti-
tion and dedication were equally neglected; † and af-
ter
"Temple, who was fo fond of him whilst he lived, that he made
"him give up his living in this country to ſtay with him at Moer-
"park, and promiſed to get him one in England: but death came
"in between, and has left him unprovided both of friend and
"living." D. S. P. 66.
* The promifes of kings are often a kind of chaff, which the
breath of a minifter bloweth, and fcattereth away from the face of-
a court. Swift's petition had no effect. It was either totally for-
gotten, or drowned amid the clamours of more urgent claims.
From this first difappointment, may probably be dated that bitter.
nefs towards kings and courtiers, which is to be found fo univer-
fally difperfed throughout his works. Orrery, let. 3.
The Earl of Rumney, who profeffed much friendſhip for Mr.
Swift, promiſed to fecond his petition; but as he was an old, vitious,
illiterate rake, without any fenfe of truth or honour, he ſaid not a
word to the King. Sketch, § 26.
Honour, or,
+ What then was to be done? Honour, or, to ufe a propercr
word, pride hindered him from ftaying long in a ſtate of fervility
and contempt. Orrery, let. 3.
XXX
OF
AN ACCOUNT
ter a fruitless attendance at court, which probably in-
creaſed the aufterity of his temper, he accepted an in-
vitation of the Earl of Berkeley, who had been ap-
pointed one of the Lords Juftices of Ireland, to at-
tend him as chaplain and private fecretary. It might
reaſonably have been hoped, that although he had
been disappointed of the preferment for which he fo-
licited, yet the employment to which he was invited
would have been fecure. But it happened, that after
he had acted as fecretary during the whole journey to
Dublin, one Buſh found means to infinuate to Lord
Berkeley, that the poft of fecretary was not fit for a
clergyman; and his Lordfhip fuffered himself to be
to easily convinced of this impropriety, that, after
making fome apology to Mr. Swift, he appointed Bufh
fecretary in his ftead.* [Sketch, § 26.]
This diſappointment was foon after followed by an-
other. It happened, that the deanry of Derry became
vacant, and it was the Earl of Berkeley's turn to dif
poſe of it. Yet whatever atonement was due to Swift
for his Lordship's late breach of engagement, the fe-
cretary having received a bribe,† the deanry was giv-
en to another, upon pretence that Swift, who was
then more than thirty years old, was too young; ‡
and
Here was another difappointment, and a fresh object of in-
dignation. The treatment was thought injurious, and Swift ex-
preffed his fenfibility of it in a fhort, but fatirical copy of verſes,
intitled, The Discovery. Orrery, let. 3. See vol. 7, P. 134.
+ I have been told, that upon the Secretary's being offered 1000l.
for the deanry of Derry, he would not conclude the bargain, Lut
kept it in reſerve, until he had acquainted Swift with the propofal
he had received: which after he had done, he made him the offer
of the deanery for the like fum. But Swift told him plainly, that
he thought he had nothing to do with ecclefiaftical preferments,
and rejected his overture with all imaginable diſdain.
D. S. p. 113.
The rich deanery of Derry was intended for Swift by Lord
Berkeley, if Dr. King, then Bishop of Derry, and afterwards
Archbishop of Dublin, had not interpofed; intreating with great
earneftneſs, that the deanery might be given to fome grave and el-
derly divine, rather than to fo young a man; "becaufe" (added
the Biſhop) "the fituation of Derry is in the midſt of Preſbyteri-
and I ſhould be glad of a clergyman who could be of affift-
ans,
❝ ance
THE LIFE OF DR, SWIFT.
xxxi
C
2 nd he received inſtead of it the two livings of Lara-
or and Rathbeggin, in the diocefe of Meath, which
Together did not amount to half the value of the deane-
Ty,* [Sketch, § 27 ] The first of theſe rectories was
worth about 200l. and the latter about 60l. a-year;
and
ance to me. I have no objection to Mr. Swift. I know him to
* be a ſpritely ingenious young man; but instead of refiding, I
dare fay, he will be eternally flying backwards and forwards to
"London; and therefore I intreat, that he may be provided for in
fome other place. Swift was accordingly fet afide on ac-
count of youth; but, as if his ftars had deftined to him a parallel
revenge, he lived to fee the Bishop of Derry afterwards fet afide on
account of age. That prelate had been Archbishop of Dublin ma-
ny years, and had been long celebrated for his wit and learning,
when Dr. Lindſay the Primate of Ireland died. Upon his death,
Archbishop King immediately made claim to the primacy, as a
preferment to which he had a right from his ſtation in the fee of
Dublin, and from his acknowledged character in the church. Nui-
ther of theſe pretenfions were prevalent.
He was looked upon as
toɔ far advanced in years to be removed. The reafon alledged was
as mortifying as the refuſal itſelf. But the Archbishop had no op-
portunity of fhewing his refentment, except to the new Primate
Dr. Bolter, whom he received at his own houfe, and in his dining
parlour, without rifing from his chair, and to whom he made an
apology, by ſaying, in his ufual ſtrain of wit, and with his uſual
fneering countenance, "My Lord, I am certain your Grace will
"forgive me, becaufe, you know, I am too old to rife." Orery,
let. 3.
Whether or no Dr. King, who was at that time very defervedly in
high reputation, although deſcended from the meaneſt of the people,
[being the fon of a miller.] was afraid of being eclipfed by the fu-
perior luftre of this young afpiring genius, who was in all refpe&s,
notwithſtanding that he agreed with the Bishop in affairs eccleſiaſti -
cal, a man of a quite different caft and manner of thinking, I
fhall not prefume to determine. However, it is by no means im-
probable, that Swift's prodigious talents, which appear throughout
his whole life to have been dreaded by all his contemporaries, not
excepting even thoſe miniſters, who were defirous to have the ho-
nour of being ranked among his best friends, had a greater fhare in
obſtructing his promotion to the deanery of Derry, than perhaps
any filly, trifling objections against his youth and fpritelinefs.
D. S. p. 114.
As Swift did not receive theſe livings till after the deanery was
given to another, his non-refidence could not, as Lord Orrery fup-
pofes, be the reaſon why it was not given to him, Hawkef.
xxxii
OF
AN
ACCOUNT
and they were the only church-preferments that Dr.
Swift enjoyed till he was appointed Dean of St. Pa-
trick's, in 1713. [O. let. 3.]
Whilft Swift was chaplain to Lord Berkeley, his on-
ly fifter, who was of the middle fize, finely fhaped,
rather beyond what is called the agreeable through-
out her whole perfon, was polite and well bred, with
at leaſt a good ſhare of underſtanding, and at that time
worth 300l. by the confent and approbation of her
uncles and relations, accepted a propofal of marriage
from a tradefman, whofe fortune, character, and fitu-
ation were eſteemed, by all her friends, fuitable for
her in every refpect. He was reputed to be worth five
thousand pounds. Having communicated this pro-
pofal to her brother, and finding him utterly averfe
from entertaining the most diftant thoughts of it, fhe
began to remonftrate to him in the way of reafon, (for
the match was by no means very defirable in her own
breaft,) that he could not fupport herfelf on her
3001. On which her brother affured her, that he
would never fee her want the neceffaries or the conve-
niences of life; and as a further proof to convince her
that his regards were truly affectionate and fincere, he
promiſed to fettle upon her 500l. being all he was then
poffeffed of in the world, the very hour he fhould get fome
benefice in the church, which he daily expected, provid-
ed the would reject this overture of marriage with a
proper disdain.
But the match having taken place,
notwithstanding her brother's remonftrances, it was
entirely difagreeable to him. It feemed to interrupt.
thoſe ambitious views which he had long fince formed.
He grew outrageous at the thoughts of being brother-
in-law to a tradefman. He utterly refuſed all recon-
ciliation with his fifter, nor ever would listen to the
intreaties of his mother, who came over to Ireland,
under almoſt a certainty of pacifying his anger; hav-
ing, in all other refpects, ever found him a dutiful
and obedient fon. But his pride was not to be con-
quered; and Mrs. Swift, finding her fon inflexible,
haftened back to Leiceſter, where the continued till her
death.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT: xxxiii
death. However, his fifter's marriage proved in the
end very unfortunate. The husband was an old,
tyrannical, vitious rake; and with regard to his
5ocol, he was fcarce worth half fo much on the day
he was married. After he had two or three children,
he broke and died, leaving his family in very deplora-
ble circumftances. Mr. Swift upon this event ac-
quainted his fifter by meffage, (for he would never be
fo far reconciled as to fee her face,) that he would al-
low her zol. a-year during her life, provided fhe would
live in England, but not otherwife. She accordingly
went to England, where the conftantly received her an-
nuity till her death. [D. S. p. 101.-104. O let. 3.]
In 1699, Swift had like to have burnt the caftle of
Dublin, and Lord Berkely in the midſt of it. For the
Doctor, whofe bedchamber was the next room to his
Excellency's, having grown drowfy over his book
while he was reading in bed, dropt afleep without ex-
tinguishing his candle; which happening to fall upon
his quilt, fet it on fire, and burnt its paffage quite
through the bed-cloaths, until it reached his thigh.
Swift routed by the pain, leapt out of bed, and ex-
tinguished the fire, which by this time had burnt part
of the curtains. He took care to have the damages
repaired; and by throwing away fome guineas in huſh-
money, the accident was never made known in the
caftle. [D. S. p. 112.].
As Swift had refufed a commiffion under King Wil-
liam, and a fecular employment under Sir William
Temple, it appears, that his attachment to a religious
life, however early and however ftrong, was not the
effect of temporary views, but of zeal for the fucccfs
of the great work in which he was about to engage,
and a confcioufnefs of his own ability to acquit him-
felf with advantage. That religious purpofes were at
this time predominant in his mind, he ufed frequently
to declare; he hoped, he faid, that, by diligent and
conftant application, he fhould fo far excel, that the
fexton might fometimes be afked on a Sunday morn-
ing, "Pray does the Doctor preach to-day " And
b 5
when,
xxxiv
AN ACCOUNT OF
when, after having taken poffeffion of his livings, he
went to refide at Laracor, † he gave public notice,
that he would read prayers on every Wedneſday and
Friday; a labour which he would not have brought
upon himſelf, if he had been principally concerned
about the value of his dues, which had been long be-
fore cuftomarily paid for much lefs fervice. [J. R.
P. 40, 41.]
The duties of the church, which he thus rendered
more frequent, he performed with the utmost punctu-
ality, and the moſt rational devotion. He was indeed
devout, not only in his public and folemn addreffes to
God, but in that tranfient act of adoration, which is
called faying grace, and which generally confifts only
in a mutter and a bow; in which the fpeaker appears
to compliment the company, and the company each
other. Swift always ufed the fewell words that could
be uttered on the occafion; but he pronounced them
with an emphafis and fervour which every one around
him faw and felt, and with his hands clafped in each
other, and lifted to his breaſt. And it is hoped, that
thoſe who can no otherwiſe emulate the character of
Swift,
† As ſoon as the Earls of Berkeley and Galway had been fuc-
ceeded in the government by the Primate and the Earl of Droghe-
da, which happened, I think, ſomewhat about a year after his be-
ing prefented to the livings of Laracor and Rathbeggin, poor Swift,
half in deſpair of any further preferment, gllops down to Lara-
cor; where folitude, retirement, the fanning of leaves, and the
warbling of birds, threw him into fome kind of reveries, more
fuitable, if any ftrefs can be laid on the general opinions of the
world, to the gravity and ſedateneſs of an older divine, than to that
abundant fpritelinefs and fire which animated the foul of this young,
vigorous, uncommon, heteroclite genius. Perhaps it may be
thought exceedingly ftrange by thofe who admire Swift only for his
wit and politics, that immediately after he had gone to refide in the
country, he should begin to reflect, that he was intrufted with the
cure of fouls. But Swift was really a man of high religion, with-
out grunting, groaning, canting, hypocrify, or making wry faces.
And ſure it is, that in proportion to thoſe talents, which he is al-
lowed to have poſſeſſed in the most eminent degree, he beat all his
contemporaries many thouſands of leagues in the race of Chriftia-
mity. D. S. p. 115, 116.
4.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
XXXV
Swift, will attempt it in this act of religious deco um,
and no longer affect either to be wits or fine gentle-
men, by a conduct directly contrary to fo great an ex-
ample.
But Swift, with all this piety in his heart, could
not refift the temptation to indulge the peculiarity of
his humour when an opportunity offered, whatever
might be the impropriety of time and place.
On the firſt Wedneſday after he had fummoned his
congregation at Laracor, he afcended his defk, and
having fat fome time with no other auditor than his
clerk Roger, he rofe up, and, with a compofure and
gravity that upon this occafion was irrefiftibly ridicu-
lous, he began, "Dearly beloved, Roger, the fcrip-
ture inoveth you and me in fundry places ;" and
fo proceeded to the end of the fervice. [O let. 3.]
During Swift's refidence at Laracor, he invited to
Ireland a lady whom he has celebrated by the name of
Stella. With this lady he became acquainted while he
lived with Sir Willian Temple. She was the daugh-
ter of his ſteward, whofe name was Johnfon; and
Sir William, when he died, left her. 1000 l. in confi.
deration of her father's faithful fervices. At the death
of Sir William, which happened in January 1698-9,
fhe was in the fixteenth year of her age; ‡ and it was
about two years afterwards, that, at Swift's invitati-
on, fhe left England, accompanied by her friend Mrs.
Dingley, a lady who was fifteen years older, and
whofe whole fortune, though he was related to Sir
William,
* What a glorious prieft would he have been, to reform the
young and fpritely from the extravagance of their ways? But,
alas! that amazing capacity, fo continually rolling over with tor-
rents of wit and humour, was by no means adapted to the folemni -
ty of a country-parish, or to the confolation of old women. D.
S. p. 117.
† Mr. Deane Swift fays 18; but it appears by the poem on her
birth-day in 1718, that she was then but 34. The Deane fays the
was in Ireland from 18, in his introduction to Bon Murs de Stelliz
Hawkes.
xxxvi
OF
AN ACCOUNT
William, was no more than an annuity of 271. [D. S.
p. 85, 86, 90.] Whether Swift at this time defired
the company of Stella as a wife or a friend, is not
certain; but the reafon which the and her companion
then gave for their leaving England, was, that in Ire-
land the intereft of money was high, and provifions
were cheap. It appears, however, that other reafons
were fufpected in the neighbourhood of Moorpark:
for Mr. Thomas Swift, the rector of Puttenham, in a
letter, dated Feb. 5, 1706, inquires "whether Jo-
"nathan was married, or whether he had been able
"to refift the charms of both thofe gentlewomen who
"marched from Moorpark to Dublin, with a refolu-
tion to engage him?"† [D. S p. 86, 87.] It
appears too, that Swift, if he did not addrefs her
himſelf, yet contrived to break off a treaty of mar-
riage with another, by perfuading her to infift upon
terms with which the gentleman could not comply. I
But
+ The beauty and gracefulnefs of Mrs. Johnfon's perfon had
been remarked by Swift about two years before Sir William Tem-
ple's death, but never, we may be fure, had he made her the leaſt
advances. I am inclined however to think, that having obſerved
her to be a delightful girl, and of a genius quick and lively, he had
given her fome inſtructions for the improvement of her mind in
thofe happy years of ductility, when the foul is apt to receive all
the finest impreffions; which, like feed thrown upon a rich and
fertile foil, might have prejudiced her inclinations to have a tender-
nefs for him. D. S. P. 85, 86.
Dr. Swift made no addreffes to this charming fair upon her
first arrival in Ireland, when he was in the prime of her life, and
fplendor of her beauty. However, the gracefulness of her perfon,
and the politeness of her converfation, were not to be refifted by a
gentleman of wit and learning, who was an intimate friend of the
Doctor, and with whom he had frequently converfed. This gen-
tleman declared his paffion, and made her propoſals of marriage,
-Mrs. Johnfon difcovered no repugnancy to the match; but
ftill he would be adviſed by Dr. Swift. The Doctor, perhaps
loath to be feparated from fo delightful a companion, threw an ob-
ftacle in the way that was not to be furmounted. The gentleman
had a benefice in the church of a confiderable value about 100 miles
from Dublin, which required his attendance. Dr. Swift, in order
to bring matters to a final iffue, made him an overture, that he
fhould fettle upon his wife 1ool, a-year for pin-money. The lov-
er
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
xxxvii
But whatever was Swift's attachment to Mrs. Johnſon,
every poffible precaution was taken to prevent fcandal.
They never lived in the fame houſe.
When Swift was
abfent from Laracor, Mrs. Johnſon and her friend re-
fided at the parfonage; when he returned, they re-
moved either to the houſe of Dr. Raymond, vicar of
Trim, a gentleman of great hofpitality, and Swift's
intimate friend, or to a lodging provided for them in
the neighbourhood: neither were they ever known to
meet but in the prefence of a third perfon. [D. S.
p. 90.] Swift made frequent excurfions to Dublin,
and fome to London: but Mrs. Johnfon was bu-
ried in folitude and obfcurity; fhe was known on-
ly to a few of Swift's moft intimate acquaintance,
and had no female companion except her friend Mrs.
Dingley, who was by all accounts a very infipid com-
panion.
*
In 1701, Swift took his Doctor's degree, and in
1702, ſoon after the death of King William, he went
to
er indeed, though extremely captivated with the charms of his
miſtreſs, was by no means delighted with this propofal: he defir-
ed, however, that he might have a night's time to confider of it.
And the next morning, contrary to expectation, he agreed to the
terms. Swift, never at a lofs for fome uncommon flight of ima-
gination, infifted further, that he ſhould live in Dublin, and keep
a coach for his wife. The gentleman had more honour than to
promiſe what he could not perform; and fo the match was broken
off. D. S. p. 87. 89.
87.89.
*This courfe of life, fo very fingular in a fine woman, abſtract-
ed Mrs. Johnſon in a great meaſure from the converſe of her own
fex, fhe lived, I cannot abfolutely fay by her own choice, wholly
in the circle of books and men: a life fo unnatural to the fweetnefs
and delicacy of a tender female conftitution, that I cannot fuppofe
it, with all its glittering advantages in the way of ſcience, to have
been near fo eligible to the lovely Mrs. Johnſon, as that open free
converfe with the world, which is totally unacquainted with every
colour and ſpecies of involuntary confinement. However, that
greatness of mind, which infpires, like the demon of Socrates,
courage and refolution into the fouls of the innocent, comforted and
fupported the religious and virtuous Mrs. Johnfon, under all the
bitterness and preffures of her reftraint. D. S. p. 90, 91.
xxxviii AN ACCOUNT
OF
to England, for the first time after his fettlement at
Laracor; a journey which he frequently repeated dur-
ing the reign of Queen Anne. Mrs. Johnſon was
once alfo in England in 1705; but returned in a few
months, and never afterwards croffed the channel.
[D. S. p. 90.]
He foon became eminent as a writer, and in that
character at leaft was known to the great men in both
the factions, which were distinguished by the names of
Whig and Tory.* He had been educated among the
Whigs; but he at length attached himself to the To-
ries, becauſe, as he ſaid, the Whigs had renounced
their old principles; and received others, which their
forefathers held in utter abhorrence. † [O. let. 4.]
He
* Two creatures, fays a modern author, who are born with a fe
cret antipathy to each other, and engage as naturally when they
meet, as the elephant and rhinoceres. In a mixture of thefe two
jarring animals confifted the first miniftry of Q. Anne; but the
greater ſhare of the adminiftration was committed to the Whigs, who,
with indefatigable induſtry, foon engroffed the whole; inclofing
their fovereign within their own fortifications, and keeping her
captive within their own walls. The Queen, whoſe heart was na-
turally inclined towards the Tories, remained an unwilling priſoner
feveral years to the Whigs; till Mr. Harley, with a Tory army,
undermined all the Whiggifh fortreffes, levelled their works to the
ground, feized the princefs, and, during the remainder of her life,
furrounded and defended her with a new fet of troops under the
command of the Duke of Ormond.
O. let. 4.
0.
† The effects of power and ambition are extraordinary and
boundless. They blind our faculties, they ſtagger our refolution,
and they fubvert our nature. Not all the metamorphofes of Ovid
can produce a parallel equal to the change that appears in the fame
man, when from a patriot he becomes a courtier. Yet it may be af-
ferted, and will redound to the honour of Dr. Swift, that when he
rofe into the confidence and eftcem of thofe great men who fat at
the helm of affairs, during the last years of Q. Anne's reign, he
ſcarce ever loft himſelf, or grew giddy by the plentitude of power,
and the exalted ſtation of frequently appearing in the confidence
and favour of the reigning minifter. He may have been carried
away by inconfiderate paffion, but he was not to be fwayed by deli-
berate evil. He may have erred in judgment, but he was upright
in intention. The welfare and profperity of theſe kingdoms were
the
い
​THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xxxix
He did not however write any political pamphlet from
the year 1701 to the year 1708. † (D. S. p. 148.)
But
the conftant aim of his politics, and the immediate fubject of his
thoughts and writings. O. let. 4.
In 1701 Dr. Swift having wrote the piece intitled, A difcourfe
of the contests and diffentions in Athens and Rome, [in vol. 2. p. 8.]
returned from England to Ireland; where having met with old Bp.
Sheridan, at his uncle Wm. Swift's in Dublin, the Bishop, after fome
converſation with him about affairs in England, afked him if he
had read that pamphlet, and what reputation it carried at London?
The doctor told him modeftly, that he had read it, and that, as
far as he had obferved, it was very well liked at London. Very
well liked, faid the Bishop, with fome emotion; yes, Sir, it is one
of the finest tracts that ever was written. Well, furely Bishop
Burnet is one of the beſt writers in the whole world! Biſhop Bur-
net, my Lord! faid the Doctor: Why, my Lord, Bishop Bur-
net was not the author of that diſcourſe. Not the author of it?
faid the Bishop. Why, Sir, there is never a man in England ex-
cept the Bishop capable of writing it. I can affure your Lordship,
replied the Doctor, Bishop Burnet was not the author of it. Not
the author of it? faid the Bifhep: Pray, Sir, give me your reaſon
for thinking fo. Becaufe, my Lord, faid Swift, that difcourfe is
not written in the Bishop's ftyle. Not in the Bishop's ftyle? repli-
ed old Sheridan, with fome degree of contempt. No, my Lord,
the ſtyle of that pamphlet is, I think, wholly different from the
ftyle of the Bishop. Oh, Mr. Swift, replied Sheridan, I have
had a long acquaintance with your uncles, and an old friendship for
all your family, and really I have a great regard for you in particu-
But let me adviſe you, for you are ſtill a very young man;
I know you have a good ſhare of abilities, and are a good fcholar;
however, let me affure you notwithstanding, that you are ftill a
great deal too young to pronounce your judgment on the style of
authors. I am greatly obliged to your Lordship, replied Swift, for
the good opinion you are pleafed to entertain of me; but ftill I am
to affure your Lordship, that Bishop Burnet was not the author of
that difcourfe. Well, Sir, faid the Bishop, let me know who it
was that did write it. Why, really, my Lord, replied Swift, I
writ it myſelf. And this was the first time that ever he acknow-
ledged himself to be the author of that famous tract. D. S.
P. 122, 3.
lar.
During this interval, Dr. Swift had worked hard, within thoſe
fubterraneous paffages, where, as has been hinted in a former note,
the mine was formed that blew up the Whiggiſh ramparts, and
opened a way for the Tories to the queen. Swift was to the Tories
what Cæfar was to the Romans, at once a leader of their armies, and
an hiftoriographer of their triumphs. He refided very much in Eng-
land; his inclinations were always there. O. let 4.
xl
AN ACCOUNT OF
But though, by his frequent excurfions to England,
and a long abfence from his cures, he appears to have
delayed the execution of his purpofe to excel as a
preacher; yet he uſed to declare, that he did not re-
nounce it till his acquaintance with Harley; nor did
he ever mention his fubfequent attachment to poli-
tics, without indubitable figns of penitence and re-
gret. J. R. p. 41, 42, 266.
It is probable that he hoped to exert himſelf more
effectually in the church, by acquiring fome other
preferment; and that, with this view, he was foli-
citous to be near the court: for before his acquaint-
ance with Lord Oxford, a biſhopric was intended for
him by the Queen. But Abp. Sharpe, and a certain
great lady, having mifreprefented his principles, and
character, her Majefty gave it to another. Of this
injury, however, the Archbishop was afterwards truly
fenfible, expreffed great forrow for it, and defired his
forgiveness. J. R. p. 271.
After this diſappointment it was not long before a
new ſcene opened before him; for in 1710, being then
in England, he was impowered by his Grace the Lord
Primate of Ireland to folicit the Queen to exonerate
the clergy of Ireland from paying the twentieth parts
and first fruits. And upon this occafion his acquaint-
ance with Harley commenced.†
As foon as he had received the Bishop's letter, in-
ſtructions, and authority, he reſolved to apply to Mr.
Harley, not only becauſe he was a principal perfon
in the Queen's Ministry, but becaufe by his intereft,
the fame favour had been granted to the clergy of
England.
* Abp. Sharpe reprefented him as a perfon who was not a Chrif-
tian, and the great lady fupported the alperfion. Swift kept him-
felf indeed within fome tolerable bounds, when he fpoke of the
queen but his indignation knew no limits, when he mentioned
the Archbishop or the lady. O. let. 4.
+ See the letters that paffed between Dr. Swift and the Irish
Bishops on this occafion,
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT
xli
England. That he might not wait upon Mr. Harley, to
whom his name was well known, wholly without re-
commendation, he got himſelf reprefented as a per-
fon who had been extremely ill ufed by the last mi-
niftry, becauſe he would not go certain lengths which
they would have had him; this being in fome fort Mr.
Harley's own cafe.*
Mr.
* Swift no fooner appeared at London in September 1710, but
"all the Whigs were ravifhed to fee him, and would have laid hold
"on him as a twig to fave them from finking; and the great men
"were all making him their clumfy apologies." [Let. to S. Sept.
9, 1710.] "It is good" [faith the Doctor] "to fee what a la-
mentable confeffion the Whigs all make of my ill ufage." [Ib.
Sept. 30.] In short, the Whigs would gladly have depended on
his fuperior talents for their refurrection; and the Tories dreaded
from his pen their inevitable deftruction. D. S. p. 312, 13 ———— It
does not appear, that Swift had any defign of attaching himfelf to
the Tory miniftry at this time. For he declares within a few days
after his arrival, that he is heartily weary of London, and
"wishes that he had never ftirred from Ireland," [Let. to S.
Sept. 12, 1710.] But obferving in October in what manner he
was courted by Mr. Harley and Mr. Secretary St. John, (" who
"frequently protefted, after he had become their intimate, that
"he was the only man in England they were afraid of.") [Ibid.
June 30, 1711,] as well as by all the rest of the great people in pow-
er, to whom he was immediately introduced by Mr. Harley upon
their first acquaintance, he readily enough accepted the invitation
to be their friend and protector.
And now the public Intereſt to ſupport,
By Harley SwiFT invited comes to court. Vol. 6, p. 249.
"I ftand with the new people" [faith he] "ten times better
"than ever I did with the old; and forty times more careffed."
[0&. 14, 1710.] "The prefent miniftry have a difficult task,
"and want me, &c. According to the beft judgment I have,
"they are purſuing the true intereft of the public; and therefore
" I am glad to contribute what lies in my power." [Nov. 29,
1710.] "As for your news that Mr. St. John is going to Hol-
"land, he has no ſuch thoughts to quit the great ſtation he is in;
"nor if he had, could I be fpared to go with him." [Jan. 24,
1710.] "May my enemies live here [at London] in fummer;
" and yet I am fo unlucky, that I cannot poffibly be out of the
(way
xlii
OF
AN
ACCOUNT
Mr. Harley received him with the utmoſt kindneſs
and refpect; he fat with him two hours in company,
and two hours he was with him alone. He not only
engaged in the Doctor's immediate bufinefs with the
utmoft zeal, and foon after accomplished it; but told
him, he must bring him acquainted with Mr. St. John;
invited him to dine with him; charged him to come
often; and, when the Doctor propofed attending at
his levee, told him that was no place for friends.
The Doctor foon after became perfonally acquainted
with the rest of the miniſters, who appear to have
courted and careffed him with uncommon affiduity.
He dined every Saturday at Mr. Harley's, with the
Lord Keeper, Mr. Secretary St. John, and Lord Ri-
vers. On that day no other perfon was for fome time
admitted; but his felect company was at length en-
larged to fixteen, all men of the first clafs, Swift in-
cluded. They dined once a-week at the houſes of
each other by rotation, and went under the general
denomination of brothers.*
From
way at this junc&ture.- -The Whigs whifper that our Miniftry
"differ among themfelves, and they begin to talk out the Secre
tary. They have fome reafons for their whiſpers; though I
"thought it was a greater fecret. I do not much like the prefent
pofture of things. I always apprehended that any falling out
"would ruin them, and ſo I have told them feveral times. The
"Whigs are mighty full of hopes at prefent; and whatever is
"the matter all kinds of ſtocks fall. I have not yet talked with
the Secretary about Prior's journey [to France.] I fhould be
"apt to think it may foretel a peace; and that is all we have to
"preferve us." [Aug. 27, 1711.] Swift and the Secretary hav-
ing appointed to spend a whole day in private together upon af-
fairs of the greatest confequence; "The duce" (faith he) is in
"this Secretary. When I went to him this morning, he had
"ple with him; but fays, we are to dine with Prior to-day, and
"then will do all cur buſineſs in the afternoon. At two, Prior
"fends word he is otherwife engaged. Then the Secretary and I
peo-
go and dine with Brig. Briton; fit till eight, grow merry, no bu-
"finefs done; we part, and appoint no time to meet again. This
"is the fault of all the prefent minifters, teafing me to death for my
"affiftance, laying the whole weight of their affairs upon it;
"flipping opportunities." [O&. 31, 1711.] D. S. p. 329, 30, 1.
and
Swift was reprefented to Mr. Harley," as one extremely ill
"uſed by the laft miniftry;" a fentiment which, in his political
"wiſdom, that great minifter both greedily and fearfully im-
bibed.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xliii
From this time the Doctor fupported the intereft of
his new friends with all his power in pamphlets, po-
ems, and periodical papers; his intimacy with them
was
Fibed. And accordingly, when Swift waited upon him about the
first fruits and twentieth parts; Harley, knowing the pride and
fpirit of the man whom he had to deal, instantly began to pay
his court to Swift in all the shapes that were confiftent with his
fpirit and dignity. The moment that Swift appeared in his houſe,
Harley, "received him with the greatest refpect and kindnefs ima-
"ginable; and appointed him an hour two or three days after to
open his buſineſs to him." [Let. to S. OA. 4, 1710.] No
fooner had Swift told him his bufinefs on the day appointed, but
Harley entered into it with all kindness, aſked him for his pow-
"ers and read them, and read likewife the memorial he had drawn
"
up, and put it into his pocket to fhew the queen; told him the
"meaſures he would take, and, in ſhort, faid every thing he could
"wish; told him he must bring Mr.St. John and him acquainted;
"and fpoke fo many things of perfonal kindness and esteem, that
"he [Swift] was inclined to believe what fome friends had told
"him, that he [Harley] would do every thing to bring him over.
"He [Harley] defired him to dine with him on Tueſday;
and after four hours being with him, fet him down at St.
James's coffee-houfe in a hackney-coach." [O&. 7, 1710.]
And again, “I muſt tell you" [faith the Doctor] "a great piece
"of refinement in Harley." [This was but four days after their
fint acquaintance.] "He charged me to come to fee him often.
"I told him I was loath to trouble him in ſo much business as he
"had, and defired I might have leave to come at his levee: which
"he immediately refuſed, and faid that was no place for friends.”
[Oct. 8, 1710.] In two days after Harley" told him, he had
fhewn his memorial to the queen, and feconded it very heartily;
"becauſe (faid he) the queen defigns to fignify it to the bishops of
Ireland in form, and take notice that it was done upon a memo-
"rial from you: which Mr. Harley told Swift he did to make it
"look more refpectable to him.” [Oct. 10, 1710.]————“ I be-
"lieve" [faith the Doctor] "never any thing was compaffed fo
"foon, and purely done by my perfonal credit with Mr. Harley,
"who is fo exceffively obliging, that I know not what to make of
it, unleſs to ſhew the rafcals of the other party, that they uſed
"a man unworthily who had deferved better." [Oct. 21, 1710.]
"Harley ſpeaks all the kind things to me in the world." [Nov.
8, 1710.] But the account of his entertainment and reception at
the fecretary's, will give fome clearer light into theſe matters.
"I dined to-day [faith he] "by invitation with the fecretary of
"ftate, Mr. St. John. Mr. Harley came into us before dinner,
"and made me his excufes for not dining with us, becauſe he was to
"receive people who came to propofe the advancing money to the
government.
1
xliv
OF
AN ACCOUNT
was foremarkable, that he was thought not only to de-
fend, but in fome degree to direct their meaſures; and
fuch was his importance in the opinion of the oppofite
party, that many ſpeeches were made against him in
both houfes of parliament; a reward was alſo offer-
ed for difcovering the author of The public fpirit of
the Whigs.t
vernment.
*
Whatever
But
-The fecretary ufed me with all the kindness in
the world. Prior came in fter dinner; and upon an occaſion
"he [the fecretary] faid, the beſt thing he ever read is not yours,
" fays he, but Dr. Swift's on Vanbrug; [in vol. 6, p. 72] which
"I do not reckon ſo very good neither: but Prior was damped, till I
ftuffed him with two or three compliments. He told me among o-
ther things,that Mr. Harley complained he could keep nothing from
"me, I had the way fo much of getting into him. I knew that
"was a refinement; and fo I told him ; and it was fo. Indeed it is
"hard to ſee theſe great men ufe me like one who was their betters,
"and the puppies with you in Ireland hardly regarding me.
"there are ſome reaſons for all this.' [Nov. 11, 1710.] Thefe
laft words have an eye to his writing the Examiner; which he kept
as a profound ſecret from all the world, except the printer and the
miniftry. Prior was fufpected for being the author of the Exami
ner, fee numb. 26, 31, [in vol.2.]and had like to have been infulted
for it in the ſtreet; to which the letter from the Whigs to the Exa-
miner, No.23, very plainly alludes. It is a point beyond all controver-
fy, that no fovereign prince was ever more careſſed by noble, gene-
rous, and manly fpirits, than Swift undoubtedly was, not only by
the great Harley, but all the Tory miniftry. For it is certain,
that Swift courted not the minifty, but the miniftry courted Swift
to be their champion and their protector, [fee his own words, Exa-
miner, No. 26;] and ufed him with the fame refpet, as well
after, as before he had taken them under his care. Neither did he
once conſent to lay with the miniſtry, and run his fortune among
them. D. S. p. 313,—316.
*See vol. 6. p. 249, 50.
Among the various branches into which Swift's expanfive ge-
nius fpread itſelf, thofe peculiar talents of levelling his writings to
the loweſt, and fuftaining their dignity to the higeft capacity, were
probably the original motives that attracted the Earl of Oxford's
friendſhip to him. In the year 1709, the character of Dr. Swift
as an author, was perfectly eſtabliſhed. He had fhewn abilities
equal to thofe attributed by Homer to Ulyffes: he could appear a
beggar among beggars, and a king among kings.- -From the year
1709, to the lateſt period of queen Anne, we find him fighting on
the fide of the minifters, and maintaining their cauſe in pamphlets,
poems,
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xlv
Whatever excellence we poffefs, or whatever honours
we obtain, the pleaſure which they produce, is all rela-
tive to fome particular favourite, with whom we are
tenderly connected, either by friendship or by love; or,
at moft, it terminates, like rays collected by a burning-
glaſs, in a very ſmall circle, which is fcarce more than
a point, and, like light, becomes fenfible only by reflec-
tion. Thus Swift, while he was courted and careffed
by those whom others were making intereft to approach,
feems to have enjoyed his diftinction, only in proportion
as it was participated with Stella; for admidſt all the bu-
finefs, and all the honours that crouded upon him, he
wrote every day an account of whatever occurred, and
fent her a journal, regularly dated, every fortnight dur
ing the whole time of his connection with Q. Anne's
miniſtry. D. S. p. 258. From theſe unreftrained effu.
fions of his heart, many particulars are known, which
could have been known no other way. And by theſe it
appears inconteftibly, that he was not only employed,
but
pocms, and weekly papers. In a letter to Mr. Pope of Jan. 10,
1721, he has this expreffion: "I have converfed in fome freedom
"with more miniſters of ſtate, of all parties, than ufually hap-
pens to men of my level; and I confefs, in their capacity as mi-
"nifters, I look upon them as a race of people whofe acquaintance
66
no man would court, otherwife than on the ſcore of vanity or
"ambition." Lord Oxford, as a gentleman and a fcholar, might
he open and unreferved to Dr. Swift, as far as his Lordship's nature
would permit; but as a minister of ftate he ever appeared myfteri-
cus and enigmatical, delivering his oracles, like the Delphian deity,
in occult terms and ambiguous expreflions.- A man always ap-
pears of more confequence to himſelf, than he is in reality to any
other perfon. Such perhaps was the cafe of Dr. Swift. He found
himſelf much indulged by the miles and converfation of the Earl
Oxford. He knew how uſeful he was to the adminiſtration in ge-
neral: and in the aforementioned letter, he fays, that the place of
hiftoriographer was intended for him. But I am apt to ſuſpect that he
flattered himself too highly at leaſt it is very evident, that he re-
mained without any preferment till the year 1713, when he was
made Dean of St. Patrick's. In point of power and revenue, fuch
a deanery might be efteemed no inconfiderable promotion; but to an
mbitious mind, whofe perpetual aim was a fettlement in England,
a dignity in any other kingdom must appear (as perhaps it was de-
figned) only an honourable and profitable baniſhment. `O. let. 4.
xlvi
AN ACCOUNT OF
*
but truſted; and that Harley, who is univerfally al-
lowed to have been one of the moſt reſerved and myſte-
rious of all politicians, was to him, in affairs of the
utmoſt moment, open and explicit. The refult of
one of their conferences, fo early as the year 1710, was
to this effect, That the kingdom was as certainly ruined
as a bankrupt merchant ; that a peace, whether bad or
good, was abfolutely neceffary; that the confederacy
muft foon break, and factions increaſe; and that the
miniſtry was upon too narrow a bottom and ſtood like
an ifthmus, between theWhigs on one fide, and the vio-
lent Tories on the other; a fituation in which they
could not fubfift. + Thefe violent Tories were formed
into a fociety called the October club, of whom Swift
fays, "They are about an hundred parliament-men of
"the country, who drink October beer at home, and
"' meet
The Earl of Oxford had a real friendſhip for Dr. Swift. And
there are fome little gratifications in the commerce of friendſhip,
which appear to be as ftrong, if not ftronger indications of our love
and eſteem for particular perfons, than what is called advancing them
in the grande monde, whether to honours or preferment. Of this na-
ture I take fome prefents to have been which the Earl made to the
Doctor, particularly his own picture enamelled by Zinck, the feal
of Julius Cæfar, and cfpecially the feal of the young Hercules,
which were both given to the Earl by his royal miſtreſs, and after-
wards by the Earl pref.nted to the Doctor; alluding perhaps, in the
prefent of the young Hercules, to the character of Alcides in the
poem called Atlas, the Earl being confcious to himſelf how much
the Doctor had ſupported the conftitution, the Queen, and the mi-
niftry. But what, I think, fhewed more kindness and affection
than any of the former, was the preſent of that penknife wherewith
the Earl himſelf had been ſtabbed by Guifcard. It was a common
ordinary penknife, with a tortoife-fhell handle; and when it was
ſhut, was juſt about the length of a man's little finger. But as the
blade was broken within half an Inch of the handle, by the violence
of the blow against one of the Earl's ribs, the Doctor had a hole
drilled through that part of the blade, which was broken off, and
another hole through that piece which remained in the handle,
and by that contrivance they were both held together by a little fil-
ver chain. D. S.
P. 162, 3.
"This king-
+ Dr. Swift's own account of this is as follows.
"dom is certainly ruined as much as was ever any bankrupt mer-
chant.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xlvii
"meet every evening at a tavern near the parlia-
ment-houſe, to drive things on to extremes againſt
"the Whigs, to call the old miniftry to account, and
get
off five or fix heads." *
[Let. to S. Feb. 18.
1710. D. S. p. 319. 320.]
But, if Swift thought this party too precipitant, it is
certain he thought Lord Oxford too flow; and he once
told him fo in a manner that fhews both his integrity,
and the freedom of his converfation with thofe who have
a preſcriptive
"chant. We must have peace, let it be a bad or a good one;
"though nobody dares talk of it. The nearer I look upon things,
"the worfe I like them. I believe the confederacy will foon break
"to pieces; and our factions at home increaſe. The miniftry is
upon a very narrow bottom; and ftand like an ifthmus between
"the Whigs on one fide, and violent tories on the other. They
"are able feamen; but the tempeft is too great, the ship too is
"rotten, and the crew all against them. Lord Sommers has been
"twice in the Queen's cloſet, once very lately; and the Duchess of
"St, who now has the key, is a moft infinuating woman ;
"and I believe they will endeavour to play the fame game that has
"been played against them. I have told them all this, which they
"know already; but they cannot help it; they have cautioned
the Queen fo much againft being governed, that fae obferves it
"too much. I could talk till to-morrow upon theſe things; but
they make me melancholy. I could not but obferve, that
lately after much converfation with Mr. Harley, though he is
"the most fearless man alive, and the leaft apt to defpond, he con-
"feffed to me, that uttering his mind to me gave him eafe," [Let,
to Stella, March 4, 1710,] D. S. p. 318.
The ministry feemed not to regard them, yet one of them
in confidence told me, that there must be fomething thought on to
fettle things better. I'll tell you one great ftate fecret. The Queen,
fenfible how much ſhe was governed by the late miniſtry, runs as little
into the other extreme, and is jealous in that point even of thoſe
who got her out of the other's hands. The miniftry is for gentler
meaſures, and the other Tories for more violent. Lord Rivers talk-
ing to me the other day, curfed the paper called the Examiner, for
fpeaking 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 fwore, that if their advice were followed,
they would be blown up in twenty-four hours. And I have reaſon
to think that they will endeavour to prevail on the Queen to put
her affairs more in the hands of a miniftry than the does at pre-
fent: and there are, I believe, two men thought on, &c. [Let.:0
S.] D. S. p. 320.
xlviii
AN ACCOUNT OF
a preſcriptive right to fervility and adulation. He
had received (from Col. Hill, a gentleman of worth,
who had commanded with great bravery in the battle
of Almanza, foon after his promotion to a regiment)
a preſent of a fine tortoife-fhell fnuff-box, richly lined
with gold, with the profpect of the rialto of Venice,
feveral gondalos plying on the canals, and other figures
to the number of 150, reprefenting the pleafures of a
carnival, painted on the infide of the lid. This pre-
fent he fhewed one day to Harley; who having ad-
mired the painting and the workmanſhip, at laſt ſpied
a figure ftudded on the outfide of the bottom, which
he thought reſembled a gooſe; upon which, turning to
the Doctor," Jonathan," fays he, "I think the Colonel
has made a goofe of you." “Yes, my Lord," fays
the Doctor; but, if your Lordship will look a little
"farther, you will fee that I am driving a ſnail be-
"fore me;" which indeed happened to be the de-
vice. To this the Earl coolly replied, "That is fe-
"vere enough, Jonathan; but I deferve it." [D. S.
p. 163, 4.]
It is equally true, and equally evident, that Swift
had no expectations of advantage from his connection
with thefe perfons, that he knew they could not long
preferve their power; that he did not honour it while
it lafted, and that he difdained pecuniary obligations *
"The
*Swift, confcious of his great abilitics, and that he was not oblig-
ed to the miniſtry, for any the leaft favour, how much foever they
had been obliged to him for his care and protection, treated every
one of them round, juſt in what ſtyle and manner he thought con-
venient. The miniftry, who were themſelves men of wit and pe-
netration, bore with his temper and fouthed him in his greateſt ir-
regularities. Had they ventured to have acted otherwife, they
knew in their fouls, that he would have taken horſe the next morn-
ing, and careless of their fate, expofed them to the fury of their ene
mies. But this fpirit of dominion, which more or lefs gave a
tincture to all his converfation and behaviour throughout his whole
life, was fuffered freely to pass under the foft and gentle appellation
of wit and humour. "I dined to day" (faith he) "with Mr. Sc-
"cretary St. John: I went to the court of requeſt at noon, and fent
"Mr. Harley into the houfe to call the fecretary, to let him know
** I would not dine with him if he dined late." [Let. to S. Feb. 12.
1710.] Where do you find in the Roman, the Grecian, the Perfic,
the
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIF T. xlix
CC
"The ministry," (faith he)" are good honeft
hearty fellows. I uſe them like dogs, becauſe I ex-
"pect they will ufe me fo. They call me nothing
"but Jonathan; and I faid I believed they would
leave me Jonathan as they found me; and that I
never knew a miniftry do any thing for thoſe whom
they make companions of their pleaſures; but I
care not." [Let. to S. Feb.
[Let. to S. Feb. 17. 1710. D. S. p.
322.]
CC
66
CC
་
In the fummer of 1711, he forefaw the ruin of the
miniftry, by thofe mifunderſtandings among them-
felves which at laft effected it; and it was not only his
opinion, but their own, that if they could not carry a
peace, they would not be able to keep themſelves out of
the Tower, even though they fhould agree. [D. S.
P. 331. Let. to Stella.] In order therefore to faci-
litate this great event, Swift wrote The conduct of
the allies; a piece which he confeffes coft him much
pains, and which fucceeded even beyond his ex-
pectation. [D. S. p. 332 Let. to S.] It was publiſh-
ed Nov. 27. 1711, juft ten days before the parliament
met; and, before the 28th of January, above eleven
thouſand were fold, feven editions having been printed
in England, and three in Ireland. [D. S. p. 335.]
The Tory members in both houſes who ſpoke, drew
all their arguments from it; and the refolutions which
were printed in the votes, and which would never have
paffed but for The conduct of the allies,' were little
more than quotations from it.* [D. S. p. 337. Let.
to S.]
VOL. I.
C
From
the Affyrian, the Egyptian, or the Punic ftory, any champion, or
protector of a miniftry, alive and fpirited to fuch an exalted degree,
as to command the first minifter of late to call out the Secre-
tary from the important bufinefs of his King and country, upon fo
bootless an affair? But a fpirit of liberty, or, in other words, a juſt
and true notion of inherent wisdom and fortitude, will bear up the
poffeffor, like the hand of an angel, and encourage him to things
which are wild, ſtrange, and amazing to flaves, and datterers, and all
the inferior claffes of wretched human kind. D. S. p. 320, 1, 2.
* The Whigs, encouraged, fupported, and abetted, by the Dutch,
the Emperor, and all the princes in the grand alliance, were furious
against a peace. In fummer 1711 they had been extremely active
in mustering up their forces, and collecting their whole ftrength
againf
1
OF
AN ACCOUNT
From this time till the year 1713, he continued to
exert himſelf, with unwearied diligence, in the fervice
of the miniftry. [D. S. p. 156.] And while he was at
Windfor, juft at the conclufion of the peace of Utrecht,
he
against the next meeting of the parliament; and with fuch dexterity
their affairs were managed, that actually they had got the Queen
herfeit to be fecretly on their fide, as appeared to a demonftration
from her behaviour to the Duke of Shrewſbury, Dec. 7, 1711.
For "when the queen was going from the house of Lords, where the
"fat to hear the debate, Shrewſbury, Lord Chamberlain, aſked her
"Majefty, whether he, or the Great Chamberlain Lindſay, ought
"to lead her out? The answered fhort, Neither of you; and gave
"her hand to the Duke of Somerſet, who was louder than
any in
"the houſe againſt the peace." [Let, to S. Dec. 8 1711.] And
"Dr. Swift having aſked Lord Oxford, whether fome particular
• Lords would have voted againſt the court, if the Duke of Somer-
"ſet had not affured them it would pleaſe the Queen? Lord Oxford
"plainly told him, his conjectures were true, and that my Lord
"Duke of Somerfet had fo affured them." [Ib. Dec. 14.] And
this behaviour of the Queen was in fact the original cauſe of her
making twelve Peers at once, " after fhe had at laſt been perſuaded
to her own intereſt and ſecurity. Yet after all," adds Swift,
it is a ſtrange unhappy neceffity of making fo many Peers toge-
" ther; but the Queen has drawn it upon herſelf, by her trim-
"ming and moderation." [Ib. Dec. 29.] The Whigs thus elated
with hope, and with a full afſurance of fuccefs in defeating the mi-
wiftry, and quaſhing the preliminaries of a peace, ſtocks fell, and all
difficulties feem to vaniſh before them. "We have no quiet" (faith
the Docter) “wish the Whigs, they are ſo violent againſt a peace;
but I will cool them with a vengeance, very foon." [Oct. 26,
1711.] "I have written a paper" (faith he)" which the mi-
nifters reckon will do abundance of good, and open the eyes of
"the nation, who are half bewitched against a peace. Few of
"this generation can remember any thing but war and taxes, and
"they think it is as it should be; whereas it is certain, we are the
"moſt undone people in Europe, as I am afraid I ſhall make ap-
pear beyond all contradiction. [O&. 30.]-After the publica-
་་
>>
tion of The conduct of the allies,' all London, both court and
city, were alarmed. The Duch envoy defigned to complain of it,
and refufed dining with Dr. D'Avenant, becaufe, among others, he
was fufpeed to be the auth_r. The Whigs refolved to bring it
into the house of Lords, to have it there examined; and the Lord
Chief Juflice fent for Morphew the printer, threatened him, aſked
him who was the author of The conduct of the allies, and bound
him over to appear the next term. The noife which it made was
extraordinary. “It is fit” (faith the Doctor)" it thould anfwer
the
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
li
he drew the firſt ſketch of "An hiſtory of the four laſt
years of Q. Anne.” 'The work would have been
publiſhed foon after, if his friends in the miniftry had
not diſagreed about it; and after the Queen's death,
he ſpent much time in improving and correcting it; but
it has not yet appeared. [D. S. p. 340.]
During all this time, he received no gratuity or re-
ward till the year 1713: and then he accepted the
deanery of St. Patrick's, Dublin.
C 2
It
pains I have been at about it. Some lay it to Prior, others to Mr.
Secretary St. John; but I am always the firft they lay every thing
"to." [Dec. 2.] However within four days after it was publiſh-
ed, there was a report in London, that ſeveral of the Whigs began
to be content that a peace ſhould be treated. The parliament how-
ever, met Dec. 7. "The Earl of Nottingham began and ſpoke
C
against a peace, and defired, that in their addreſs they might put
in a claufe to adviſe the Queen not to make a peace without
"Spain; which was debated, and carried by the Whigs, by about
"fix voices, in a committee of the whole houfe," [Dec. 7.] and
the next day the claufe was carried againſt the court in the houſe
"of Lords almost two to one." [Dec. 8.] The Doctor, who has
written copiouſly on theſe proceedings, concludes his letter in theſe
words. This is a long journal, and of a day that 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 faid the parliament should be
"diffolved before Christmas, and perhaps it may. This is all
[ your D of St's doings. I warned them (the ministers]
"of it nine months ago, and a hundred times fince. The Secre-
tary always dreaded it. I told Lord freafurer, I fhould have the
"advantage of him, for he would lofe his head, and I fhould only
be hanged, and fo carry my body entire to the grave." [Dec. S.]
And fhortly after talking of thefe affairs, "Here are" (faith
the Doctor)" the first steps towards the ruin of an excellent mi.
"niſtry; for I look upon them as certainly ruined. Some are
"of opinion the whole miniftry will give up their places next
"week; others imagine, when the feffion is over. I do refolve,
"if they give up, or are turned out foon, to retire for fome months,
" and I have pitched upon the place already. I would be out of
"the way upon the first of the ferment. For they lay all things on
me, even ſome I have never read." [Dec. 15.) — -Neverthe-
lefs, while things continued in this doubtful fituation, and many of
the friends of the miniftry had given for gone, fuch was the
force of reafoning, and fuch were the merits of that pamphlet,
The conduct of the allies,' "that the Tory Lords and Commons
in parliament arguel all from it; and all agreed, that never any
thing of that kind was of fɔ great confequence, or made fo many
" converts."
íìì
OF
AN
ACCOUNT
<
It may perhaps be thought ftrange, 'that his friends
did not rather procure him a bishoprick in England,
and place him in the houfe of Lords, where his political
eloquence might have been employed with great ad-
vantage. But this was not in their power; and they
might be willing to fecure to him fuch advantage as
they could, knowing their own inftability, and fore-
feeing their fall.*
But with whatever view, or from whatever cauſe,
the deanery of St. Patrick's was given him, he re-
ceived it with lefs pleaſure than he would have done a
fettlement with much lefs power and profit in England.
He immediately croffed the channel to take poflef-
fion of his new dignity; but did not ftay in Ireland
more than a fortnight, being urged by an hundred let-
ters to haften back, and reconcile Lord Oxford and
Lord
"Converts." [Dec. 18.] And at laft, fuch were the effects that
it produced almoft univerfally in the minds of men, that "the
houſe of Commons" (faith the Doctor)" have this day made
(C many fevere votes about our being abuſed by our allies. Thofe
"who fpoke drew all their arguments from my book, and
"their votes confirm all I writ. The court had a majority of
16 150.
All agree that it was my book that fpirited them to theſe
<refolutions. [Feb. 4.] And prefently after he confirms
what he had afferted beyond all poffibility of miftake. "The refo-
lutions" (faith he) printed the other day in the votes, are al-
moft quotations from it, and would never have paffed, if that book
had not been written,' [Feb. 8.]-Such were the politics
and fuch was the importance of Dr. Swift, in thofe furious times.
D. S. p. 332.-337.
>>
"
>
* I am much inclined to believe, that the temper of Swift might
occafion his English friends to wish him happily and properly pro-
moted at a diſtance. His fpirit, for I would give it the ſofteft name,
was ever untractable, The motions of his genius were often ir-
regular. He affumed more the air of a patron, than of a friend. He
affected rather to dictate than adviſe. He was elated with the ap-
pearance of enjoying miniſterial confidence. He enjoyed the ſha-
w: the fubftance was detained from him. He was employed,
not trufted; and at the fame time that he imagined hin.felf a fubtle
diver, who dextrouſly ſhot down into the profoundeſt regions of ро
litics, he was fuffered only to found the hallows nearest the shore,
and was fcarce admitted to defcend below the froth at the top.
Perhaps the deeper bottoms were too muddy for his infpection,
0. let. 4.
But
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
ine
Lord Bolingbroke; the confequences of whofe mif-
underſtanding were justly dreaded by their friends.*
When he returned, he found their quarrels and cold-
nefs increaſed; and having predicted their ruin from
this
But what reward, what recompenfe, or what dignities were con-
ferred upon this heroic champion of the miniftry, this Herculean
defender of the conſtitution, for all his labours? Why, to be fure.
he was invited to be of the cabinet-council, he had forse part in the
adminiſtration of affairs committed to his care, he was raiſed in the
church even to the higheſt pinnacle of honour that he could poffibly
arrive at, without having others knocked on the head to make
room for his preferment? Quite the contrary: that very miniftry
whoſe battles he had fought with fo much vigour and fuccefs, never
once exerted their intereſt to get him any fort of promotion eitherin
church or ſtate. Perhaps dreading thofe amazing abilities which
had been their chief fupport, they were not defirous that he ſhould
be raiſed to an Engliſh bishoprick, which would have intitled him
to a feat in the houfe of Lords, where it is not impoffible that his
talents might have thone forth in a blaze of politicks that would
have rendered him as much the idol of the public as the wonder of
all his contemporaries: and therefore, in the abundance of their
fagacity, they banished him into Ireland, and gave him the deanery
of St. Patrick, Dublin, which, as he himself expreffeth it, was the
only ſmall favour that he had ever received at their hands. I
know it hath been ſaid, and thought by many, that the Earl of Ox-
ford and Lord Bolingbroke were his patrons. But, if I know the
meaning of the word 'patron,' as I think I do, I cannot but affert,
as a truth beyond all queftion, that Dr. Swift never had any patrons
at all; or at leaft if he had. that his obligations to them were in- *
vifible. Nay, I have heard the Doctor afirm, that he never was
obliged to any man in his whole life; meaning undoubtedly, that
he never had got any preferment in the church by the intereft of his
friends, which his own particular merit had not paid for over and
over. Nevertheless, if the word 'patron' muft be ufed upon thefe
occafions, as I think it may, I will take my reputation against the
judgment of any critic in Europe, or, in other words, I will hold
fifty guineas to one, that Dr. Swift was more a patron to the mini-
ftry, than any of the miniftry were patrons to Dr. Swift: which
is a point fo manifeft to all that are acquainted with his political
writings, that I think it would be needleis to infift upon any par-
ticular proofs of it. D. S. p. 155, 6, 7.
* In the beginning of the year 1714, Swift returned to England.
He found his great' friends, who fat in the feat of power, much
difunited among themselves. He faw the Queen declining in her
health, and diftreffed in her fituation; while faction was exerting
itſelf, and gathering new ftrength every day. The part which he
had
iiv
OF
AN
ACCOUNT
this very cauſe, he laboured to bring about a recon-
ciliation, as that upon which the whole intereſt of
their party depended.
With this view he contrived to bring them to Lord
Mafham's at St. James's; and Lord and Lady Maſham,
being acquainted with his purpofe, left him alone with
them. He then expoftulated with them both; but to
little effect; being able only to engage them to go to
Windfor the next day; ftill hoping, that if he could
keep them together, they would come to fome agree.
mcnt; well knowing, that in abfence the mind per-
petually revolves the recent offences of a friend, and
heightens them by every poffible aggravation; but
that, when the offended and offender meet, the dying
fparks of eleem or kindness often brighten into a
flame, the remembrance of paſt pleaſure and confidence
returns, and mutually inclines them to fecure, by an
accommodation, that which they feel they cannot lofe
without regret.
Swift foon after followed them; but was told by
Lord Bolingbroke, that his ſcheme had come to no-
thing; and he had the mortification to obferve,
that they grew more cold to each other every day. In
the mean time Lord Oxford's credit grew lefs and lefs,
and the Queen's health visibly declined.
Swift, however, contrived yet once more to meet
them at Lord Mafham's, and was again left alone with
them. This was the last time they ever met, and he
fpoke to them both with great freedom; but at length,
deſpairing of his purpofe, he told them he would re-
tire,
As
had to act upon this occafion, was not fo difficult, as it was difagrec-
able. He exerted the utmoſt of his ſkill to reunite the miniflers,
and to cement the apertures of the ſtate. I could defcend into
very minute particulars, were I to relate what I have heard him fay
upon this occafion. But we are at prefent too near that ara, and
have too many unexpected confequences from it, either to judge im-
partially, or to write undauntedly, of thofe tempeftuous times.
foon as Swift found his pains fruitless, his arguments unavailing,
and his endeavours, like the ftone of Sifyphus, rolling back upon
himſelf, he retired to a friend's houfe in Berkshire, where he re-
mained till the Queen died. So fatal a catastrophe put a final
period to all his views in England, and made him return, as faft as
poffible, to his deanry in Ireland, loaded with thofe agonizing paf-
hions, grief and difcontent. O. let. 5.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
tire, for that all was gone.
Bolingbroke whispered
him that he was right, but Oxford faid all would do
well.
Swift ftill adhered to his opinion; and therefore
went in a day or two to Oxford by the coach, and
thence to the houfe of a friend in Berkshire, where he
continued till the Queen's death, which happened in
about ten weeks.
While he was at this place, his mind was ftill bufy
for his friends; and he wrote a diſcourſe, called · Free
thoughts on the prefent ftate of affairs,' which he
thought might be uſeful at that juncture, and fent it
up to London; but fome difference of opinion hap-
pening between him and Lord Bolingbroke concern-
ing it, the publication was delayed till the Queen's
death; and then he recalled his copy; which was af-
terwards depofited with the late alderman Barber, and
having been fince publifhed, will be found in vol 4.
P. 362.
A few weeks after the death of the Queen, he went
back to his ſtation in Ireland; all his connections with
the court being broken, and all his expectations difap-
pointed.
But it would be an injury to Swift not to ftop a mo-
ment here; and, before we defcend with him into
the vale of private life, look back, as from an eminence.
upon the country we have paffed.
Few of thoſe who have been permitted to affociate
with perfons greatly fuperior in rank and fortune,
who have climbed in the retinue of power, and been
diftinguiſhed by reflected greatness, have been able to
fuftain the native dignity of their own character, with-
out ftooping as they afcended the hill, or being blinded
by the light that made them confpicuous to others.
Let it therefore be recorded to the honour of Dr.
Swift, and to animate others by his example and re-
ward, that, during his connection with thofe who were
in the highest rank, and who in every rank would
have been great, he would never fuffer himſelf to be
treated but as an equal; and repulfed every attempt
to
Ivi
OF
AN ACCOUNT
to hold him in dependence, or keep him at a distance,
with the utmoſt refentment and indignation.
It happened upon fome occafion, that Harley fent.
him a bank-bill of 501. by his private fecretary Mr.
Lewis; which Swift inftantly returned, with a letter
of expoftulation and complaint. Harley invited him
to dine, but he refuſed, He wrote to Mr. Lewis to
mediate between them, defiring to be reconciled; but
Swift fent word, that he expected farther fatisfaction,
Harley replied, if he would come and fee him, he
would make him eafy but Swift infifled, that he
fhould apologize by meffage; and declared that other-
wife, he would caft him off.'* [D. S. p. 324, 5•
<
let. to S.]
It is poffible that this favour might have been reject-
ed, as not worth his acceptance: but it is certain,
that, if it had been of greater value, it would not have
atoned for any indecorum in the offer, or have induc-
ed Swift to fuffer an obligation from thofe whom he
did not eſteem; for he refuted the place of hiftoriogra-
pher
Swift was a man of fuch cxalted fpirit and fire, that if a bene-
fit defigned him were not accompanied with elegance and grace in
the manner of propofing it, he would fcorn the intended favour, and
refent it as an affront. He quarrelled with his friend Harley on a
punctilio of this kind.
"Mr. Harley" (faith Dr. Swift) "defired
me to dine with him again to-day, but I refuſed him; for I fell
"out with him yeſterday, and will not fee him again till he makes
me amends."
[Let. to S. Feb. 6. 1710.] "I was this morn-
"ing early" (fays he) "with Mr. Lewis of the Secretary's office,
"and faw a letter Mr. Harley had fent him, defiring to be recon-
"ciled but I was deaf to all intreaties, and have defired Lewis to
go to him, and let him know I expect further fatisfaction.
we let theſe great minifters pretend too much, there will be no
governing them.' "He promifes to make me eaſy if 1 will but
"come and fee him; but I won't; and he fhall do it by meffage"
<<
<<
• If
or I will caft caft him off;' in that he did fomething which he
"intended for a favour, and I have taken it quite otherwiſe, difliking
"both the thing and the manner; and it has heartily vexed me;
and all I have faid is truth, though it looks, like jeft; and I ab.
"folutely refuſed to fubmit' to his intended favour, and expect
"further fatisfaction." [Feb. 7. 1710.] But in a few days after,
he fays, "I have taken Mr. Harley into favour again." Feb. 13.]
D. S. p. 323, 4.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. lvii
pher with difdain; becauſe it was in the difpofal of a
perfon whom he regarded with difguft and contempt.*
He would not fuffer even negative incivilities from
thofe, who, if by their ftation they had not been his fu-
periors, would have been his equals by learning and
parts. It happened, that having on a Sunday dined
with Mr. St. John, who was then fecretary of ſtate,
and remarked that he appeared to be much out of
temper; he took the firft opportunity to fee him alone,
afked him what the d- ailed him on Sunday ; told
him he obferved he was much out of temper; that he
did not expect he would tell him the caufe, but would
be glad to ſee he was in better; and warned him never
to behave to him with filent referve, for that he would
not be treated like a ſchoolboy; and that he had felt
too much of that in his life already. "I told him,"
fays he," that I expected, that every great miniſter
"who honoured me with his acquaintance, if he
"heard or faw any thing to my difadvantage, would
"let me know it in plain words, and not put me in
6.
pain to guefs by the change or coldness of his coun-
"tenance or behaviour; for it was what I would
hardly bear from a crowned head, and I thought no
ſubject's favour was worth it. I told him, that I
defigned to let my Lord Keeper and Mr. Harley
"know the fame thing, that they may ufe me ac-
cordingly."
.
The Secretary received the reproof, like a friend, as
it was given, and apologized for his behaviour, by fay-
ing, that bufinefs had kept him up feveral whole.
nights, and drinking one more; and to make up mat--
ters, he preffed the Doctor to ftay to dinner; which
however, he declined, as well becauſe he would not en-
courage a ſecond offence by too eafily paffing over the
firit,
C 5
P
* If Swift refuſed this place, he could not, as Lord Orrery fap.
pofes, be mistaken in believing it intended for him; and that he
did refufe it, we have his own exprefs declaration in his letter to
Pope, dated Jan, 10, 1721›
Iviii
OF
AN ACCOUNT
firft, as becauſe he was engaged with another friend. †
[D. S. p. 326, 7. let to S. April 3. 1711.]
If in this reprefentation of his behaviour, as it is in
many particulars taken from his letters to Stella, he
fhould be fufpected of having fomewhat exaggerated to
gratify his vanity, he may be abundantly juftified by a
letter ftill extant, which he wrote to Lord Oxford after
the connection between them was broken. "When
"I was with you," fays he, "I have faid more than
once, that I would never allow quality or ftation
"made any difference between men.-I loved you juſt
"fo much the worfe for your ſtation.-In your pub-
44
lic capacity you have often angered me to the heart,
"but as a private man never once I was too proud
to be vain of the honour you did me.-I was never
"afraid of offending you, nor am now in any pain
** for the manner I write to you in,"
Neither
At the hours that Swift was not engaged in political affairs,
ne laughed, he played, he amuſed himfelf, with every whim and
vagary that floated on the furface of his imagination. "Secretary St.
John" (faith he) "would needs have me dine with him to-day;
and there I found three perfons I never faw; two I had no ac-
quaintance with, and one I did not care for: fo I left them early
"and came home; it being no day to walk, but fcurvy rain and
"wind. The fecretary tells me he has put a cheat upon me;
"for Lord Peterborow fent him twelve dozen Aafks of Burgundy,
"on condition that I fhould have my fhare; but he never was
quiet till they were all gone: fo I reckon he owes me 361."—
Let. to S. Feb. 18, 1710. But, in a few days after, Swift, in
a pleaſant manner, took ample fatisfaction of the fecretary. For
"I dined to-day" (faith he) "with Mr. fercretary St. John, on
"condition I might chufe my company; which were, Lord Ri-
" vers, Lord Carteret, Sir Thomas Manfell, and Mr. Lewis. I
"invited Maſham, Hill, Sir John Stanley, and George Gran-
ville; but they were engaged and I did it in revenge of his
"having ſuch bad company when I dined with him before. So
ན་ we laughed," &c. [Feb. 25, 1710.] This puts me in mind of
an accident which happened at Windfor. "The court here"
(faith the Doctor) "have got by the end a good thing I faid to the
fecretary fome weeks ago. He fhewed me his bill of fare, to tempt
"me to dine with him. Pob, faid 1, I value not your bill of
fare; give me your bill of company. Lord Treaſurer was migh-
tily pleafed, and told it every body as a notable thing." [Sept,
2, 1711.] D. S. p. 322, 3.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lix
Neither was this conduct the effect of pride and ſelf-
fufficiency, but of true dignity of mind; for he
exacted nothing which, in his turn, he did not pay,
nor aſked more for himself than for others whofe pre-
tenfions or circumftances were the fame.
When he was defired by Lord Oxford to introduce
Dr. Parnel to his acquaintance, he refufed, upon this
principle, that a man of genius was a character fuperior
to that of a Lord in a high ftation. He therefore
obliged his Lordship to walk with his treaſurer's ftaff
from room to room through his own levee, inquiring
which was Dr. Parnel, in order to introduce him-
felf, and beg the honour of his acquaintance.
It was known by an accident, after his memory
failed, that he allowed an annuity of fifty guineas to
Mrs. Dingley; but instead of doing this with the
parade of a benefactor, or gratifying his pride, by
making her feel her dependence, he always pretended,
that he acted only as her agent, and that the money he
paid her, was the produce of a certain fum which the
had in the funds: and the better to fave appearances,
he always took her receipt; and fometimes would pre-
tend, with great feeming vexation, that the drew up-
on him before he had received her money from London.
[D. S. p. 346.}
As to his political principles, if his own account of
them is to be believed, he abhorred Whiggifm only in
thoſe who made it conſiſt in damning the church, re-
viling the clergy, abetting the diffenters, and fpeaking
contemptibly of revealed religion.. He always de-
clared himſelf against a popish fucceffor to the crown,
whatever title he might have by proximity of blood;
nor did he regard the right line, upon any other ac-
count, than as it was eſtabliſhed by law, and had much
weight in the opinions of the people. He was of opi-
nion, that when the grievances fuffered under a prefent
government became greater than thofe which might
probably be expected from changing it by violence, a
revolution was juftifiable; and this he believed to
have been the cafe in that which was brought about by
the
$
1x
OF
AN ACCOUNT
the Prince of Orange. He had a mortal antipathy
againſt ſtanding armies in times of peace; and was of
opinion, that our liberty could never be placed upon
a firm foundation, till the ancient law fhould be reviv-
ed, by which our parliaments were made annual. He
abominated the political fcheme of fetting up a mo-
neyed intereft in oppofition to the landed; and was
an enemy to temporary fufpenfions of the Habeas
corpus act.
If fome afperities that cannot be juftified
have escaped his pen, in papers which were haftily
written in the firft ardor of his zeal, and often after
great provocation from thoſe who wrote against him,
furely they may, without the exertion of angelic be-
nevolence be forgiven.
That he was not at any time a bigot to party, and
that he did not indifcriminately transfer his refent-
ments from principles to perfons, was fo evident by
his conduct, that it was a ufual fubject of raillery to-
wards him among the minifters, that he never came to
them without a Whig in his fleeve. And though he does
not appear to have afked any thing for himfelf, yet he
often preffed Lord Oxford in favour of Mr. Addifon,
Mr. Congreve, Mr. Rowe, and Mr. Steele; with
whom, except Mr. Steele, he frequently converfed dur-
ing all Lord Oxford's miniftry; chufing his friends
by their perfonal merit, without examining how far
their notions agiced with the politics then in vogue;
and in particular, his friendship with Mr. Addifon
continued inviolable, and with as much kindneſs as
when they uſed to meet at Lord Halifax's or Lord
Sommers's, who were leaders of the oppofite party.
Among other perfons with whom he was intimately
acquainted during this gay part of his life, was Mrs.
Vanhomrigh. She was a lady of good family, the
daughter of Mr. Stone the commiffioner, and niece to
the accomptant-general of Ireland.
lady of politenefs and good breeding. [D. S. p. 258. ]
She was alfo a
She was the widow of Mr. Bartholomew Vanhomrigh,
firſt a merchant of Amfterdam, and afterwards of Dub-
lin, who was appointed commiffary of the ftores by
King
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxi
King William, upon his expedition into Ireland; a
place which, during the war, was computed to be worth
6000l. per annum. After the affairs of Ireland were
fettled, he was appointed muftermafter-general, and
a commiffioner of the revenue, and laid out about
12,000l. in the purchaſe of forfeited eftates: but
though he received the produce of this eſtate, and en-
joyed his appointments thirteen years; yet when he
died, in 1703, his expences had been fo nearly equal
to his revenue, that his whole fortune, the value of
his eſtate included, amounted only to 16,000l. This
fum he directed, by his will, to be divided equally be-
tween his wife and four children, of which two were
fons and two were daughters. The fons died foon af-
ter their father, and their fhare of his fortune fell to
the daughters. D. S. p. 260, &c. O. let. 9.
In 1709, the widow and the two young ladies came
to England, where they were vifited by perfons of the
first quality; and Swift, lodging within a few doors
of their houfe in Bury-ftreet, St. James's, ufed to be
much there, coming and going without ceremony, as
if he had been one of the family. D. S. p. 259. Dur-
ing this familiarity, he became infenfibly a kind of
preceptor to the young ladies, particularly the eldeft,
who was then about twenty years old, was much
addicted to reading, and a great admirer of poe-
try. In a perſon of this difpofition, it was na-
tural for fuch a character as that of Swift to excite ad-
miration, a paffion which by frequent converfe was
foftened into complacency, and complacency was at
length improved into love. Love itſelf perhaps was
in this cafe complicated with vanity, which would.
have been highly gratified by an alliance with the firit
wit of the age; and thus what neither could have ef-
fected alone, was done by the joint effort of both, and
The ventured to make the Doctor a propofal of marri-
age. It is probable, that his connections with Mrs.
Johnfon at this time were fuch, that he could not
with honour accept this propofal, whatever pleaſure or
advantage it might promife: however, it is certain,
he
lxii
OF
AN ACCOUNT
he declined, though without affigning any other en-
gagement as the reaſon.
He appears first to have affected to believe her in jeſt,
then to have rallied her on fo whimſical a choice, and
at laft to have put her off without an abfolute refuſal ;
perhaps, partly, becauſe he was unwilling to give her
pain, and partly, becaufe he could not refufe her with
a good grace, otherwife than by diſcovering fome par-
ticulars which he was willing to conceal. While he
was in this fituation, he wrote the poem called Cadenus
and Vaneſſa, vol. 6, p. 10; the principal view of
which feems to have been at once to compliment and
to rally her; to apologize for his conduct and foften
a tacit denial, by leaving the event undetermined.
This poem appears to have been written about the
year 1713, a fhort time before he left Vaneffa and the
reft of his friends in England, and returned to the
place of his exile, which he always mentioned with
regret.
In the year 1714 Mrs. Vanhomrigh died; and, hav-
ing lived at an expence much greater than her fortune
would bear, fhe left fome debts unpaid..
Her two daughters, whofe fortunes fhe had alfo def-
fened, fhe appointed joint executrixes of her will; an
office which, however troubleſome, the fituation of
their affairs obliged them to accept. It appears too,
that they had contracted fome debts in their own right,
which it was not in their power immediately to pay;
and therefore to avoid an arreft, they followed the
Dean into Ireland.*
Upon
*After the death of her huſband, and fons, with this increase of
wealth, and with heads and hearts elated by affluence, and unre-
ſtrained by forefight or diſcretion, the widow Vanhomrigh and her
two daughters quitted the luxurious foil of their native country, for
the more elegant pleaſures of the English court. During their re-
fidence at London, they lived in a courfe of prodigality that ftretch-
ed itſelf far beyond the limits of their income, and reduced them to
great diftrefs; in the midft of which the mother died, and the two
daughters hattened in all fecrecy back to Ireland, beginning their
journey on a Sunday, to avoid the interruption and importunities of
a certain fierce kind of animals called bailiffs, who are not only
(wors
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
Ixiii
Upon his arrival to take poffeffion of his deanery,
and at his return after the Queen's death, he was re-
ceived, according to the account of Lord Orrery, vol. 6,
P 55, note, and Mr. Deane Swift, with every poffible
mark of contempt and indignation, eſpecially by the
populace, who not only reviled and curfed him, but
pelted him with ftones and dirt as he paffed along the
treets. D. S. p. 178, 183. The author of the Ob-
fervations, on the contrary, affirms, that he was re-
ceived by all ranks of men, not only with kindneſs,
but honour; the Tories being then in full power, as
well in Ireland as in England, and Swift's fervice to
the church and credit at court being well known. J.
R. p. 87. This indeed was true when he went to take
poffeffion: but when he returned to his deanery, the
power of the Tories and the Dean's credit at court
were at an end; circumſtances which might well cauſe
the rabble at leaft to forget his fervices to the church.
It is certain, that great clamour was then raiſed by the
new men againſt the late miniftry, with whom Świft
had been clofely connected: they were charged with a
deign to bring in the pretender; and the fame defign
was confequently imputed to Swift, whom it was
therefore confidered by fome as a qualification for pre-
ferment to revile and oppofe: which party the mob
took, whoſe fault it has never been to coincide impli-
citly with a court, pofterity muft judge for themfelves.
But it feems probable, that theſe accounts, however
contradictory, may both be trues and that Swift at
this time might be the Sacheverel of Ireland, follow-
ed by the mob of one faction with execrations, and by
the other with fhouts of applaufe.*
It
fworn foes to wit and gaiety, but whofe tyranny, although it could
not have reached the deified Vaneffa, might have been very fatal to
Efher Vanhomrigh. Within two years after their arrival in Ire-
land, Mary the youngest, fifter died, and the fmall remains of the
fhipwrecked fortune centred in Vaneſſa.
O. let. 9.- See Orre-
ry's account of Vancffa's character, and of Swift's conduct with
her, in vol. 6. p. 10, et feq. in the notes.
We are now no longer to behold Dr. Swift of any importance
in England; his hopes there are crushed for ever; his minifterial
friends
31
}
Ixiv
OF
AN ACCOUNT
It is however agreed, that the Archbishop of Dub-
lin, and fome of his old friends in the chapter, fet
themſelves againſt his meaſures with all their force, and
laboured to diſappoint him in the exercife of his pow-
er by every art of oppofition and delay. But whate-
ver prejudice they had conceived againſt him was foon
removed, by the difintereſted integrity of his conduct,
which was fo apparent and ftriking, that they foon re-
garded him with reſpect and veneration, and almoſt im-
plicitly acquiefced in whatever he propoſed.
This removal from England to Ireland was the great
event which determined the colour of his life, bound-
ed his views, and fhewed him at once what he might
poffefs, and for what he might hope.
There is a time when every man is ftruck with a
fenſe of his mortality, and feels the force of a truth to
which he has confented merely from cuftom, without
confidering its certainty or importance. This time fel-
dom happens in the chearful fimplicity of infancy, or in
the first impatience of youth, when "the world is all be-
fore us," when every object has the force of novelty,
and every defire of pleaſure receives auxiliar ftrength
from curiofity: but after the firft heat of the race,
when we ftop to recover from our fatigue, we natu-
rally confider the ground before us, and then per-
ceive that at the end of the courfe are clouds and
darkness; that the grave will foon intercept our pur-
fuit of temporal felicity; and that, if we cannot
ftretch to the goal that is beyond it, we run in vain,
and
friends are degraded, banished, or imprisoned. Indecent rage, fan-
guinary zeal, and ill-tempered loyalty, revelled at large throughout
the three kingdoms, efpecially in Ireland, where duels were
fought almoſt every week, and where the peft was fo univerfal, that
the ladies were as violent as the gentlemen. Even children at ſchool
quarrelled for kings, inftead of fighting for apples. As Swift
was known to have been attached to the queen's laft miniftry, to
have written againſt the Whigs, and "to have oile! many a fpring
"which Harley moved," he met with frequent indignities from
the populace, and indeed was equally abufed by perfons of all ranks
and denominations. Such a treatment foured his temper, confined
his acquaintance, and added bitterness to bis ftyle. O. let. 6. See vol.
P 55. in the notes.
6.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxv
and ſpend our ftrength for nought. Great diſappoint-
ments which change our general plan, and make it
neceſſary to enter the world as it were a fecond time,
feldom fail to alarm us with the brevity of life, and
reprefs our alacrity, by precluding our hopes.
The Dean, whether by the vigour and activity of
his imagination, the multitude of his ideas, or the ar-
dour of his purfuits, eſcaped the force of this thought,
till his retreat to Ireland on the death of the Queen:
and then indeed it came upon him with fuch influence,
that, after fifteen years, it conftantly recurred when
he firſt awaked in the morning, and was not diſmiſſed
till he again began to fleep.
As foon as he was fettled at Dublin, Mrs. Johnfon
removed from the country to be near him; but they
ftill lived in feparate houſes: his refidence was at the
deanry, and hers in lodgings on the other fide of the
river Liffey.
The Dean kept two public days every week; and
though the circle of his vifitors is faid at firft to have
been ſmall, yet it foon increafed, and always confifted
of the best company. D. S. p. 91, 180. Thofe who
were more particularly the companions of his choice,
were fuch as would have done honcur to any charac-
ter. They were the Grattons, feven brothers, the fons
of Dr. Gratton, a venerable and hofpitable clergyman,
who gave them all a liberal education.
The eldeſt
was a juftice of peace, and lived reputably on his pa-
trimony in the country; another was a phyfician, and
another a merchant, both eminent in their profef-
fions; three others were clergymen, who .had a
competent provifion in the church; and the young-
eft was fellow of Dublin college, and master of the
great free-fchool at Enniskilling. They were all per-
fons of great merit, as generally acquainted, and
as much beloved as any in the kingdom. The Jack-
fons, a family of which both men and women were
genteel, agreeable, and well bred, fuch companions
as no wife man ever wanted, if they could be had;
George Rochford, and Peter Ludlow, men of for-
tune,
Ixvi
OF
AN ACCOUNT
tune, learning, wit, humour, and virtue; and Mr.
Matthew Lord, deemed the beſt lay fcholar of his time:
Thefe, with the fellows of the college, Dr. Walmefley,
Dr. Helfham, Dr. Delany, Dr. Stopford, now Bishop
of Cloyne, and Dr. Sheridan; Lady Euftace, Mrs.
Moore, Lady Betty Rochford, and Mrs. Ludlow,
with Mrs. Johnſon, and her friends, were the
perfons with whom Swift fpent his leiſure hours, from
the year 1714 to the year 1720, J. R. p. 90, &c. a
period in which it has been injuriouſly faid, that his
choice of companions fhewed him of a depraved tafte.*
There was indeed among his companions one person
who could derive no honour from his lineage. a found-
ling, whom Swift therefore uſed to call Melchifedek,
becauſe Melchifedek is faid to have neither father nor
mother. This gentleman's name was Worral; he
was a clergyman, a maſter of arts, a reader, and a
vicar of his cathedral, and mafter of the fong. He
was nearly of the Dean's own ftanding in the college,
had good ſenſe, and much humour. He was married
to a woman of great fpritelinefs, good-nature, and
generofity; remarkably cleanly and elegant in her
perfon, in her houfe, and at her table. But there is
another particular in Mr. Worral's character which
generally contributed to his intimacy with the Dean :
he was a good walker. The Dean uſed this exerciſe
in an immoderate degree, under the notion of its be-
ing abfolutely neceffary, not to health only, but to
cleanliness, by keeping the pores of the skin clear,
and throwing off impurities by perfpiration. Mr.
Worral's fituation in the church naturally engag-
ed his frequent attendance upon the Dean. This at-
tendance commonly ended in a walk; and the walk in
their dining together, either at Mr. Worral's, or at
the
* It is matter of aſtoniſhment to find the fame perfon, who had
enjoyed the higheft and the beſt converſation, equally delighted
with the lowest and the worst and yet it is certain, that from
Swift's fettlement in Dublin as Dean of St. Patrick's, his choice of
companions in general fhewed him of a very depraved taſte.
let, 6.
0.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. lxvii
the deanery. The Dean, being a fingle man, was
oftener a gueſt to Mr. Worral, than Mr. Worral was a
guest to him.
And this brought on an agreement,
that the Dean fhould dine with him whenever he
would at a certain rate, and invite as many friends as
he pleaſed upon the fame terms. This gentleman
is lately dead, and left a large fum of money to
be difpofed of to public charities, at the difcre-
tion of his executors; 500 l. of which was appro-
priated to the Dean's hofpital.
'The Dean, when he firſt ſettled at Dublin, was in
debt; a fituation which ill fuited his fpirit, and deter-
mined him to a fevere economy, with which this
agreement with Worral well fuited. J. R. p. 92.
On his public days, however, the dignity of his fta-
tion was fuftained with the utmost elegance and deco-
rum, under the direction of Mrs. Johnſon, who yet
appeared in the circle without any character dif-
tinct from the rest of the company. She was how-
ever frequently invited with the Dean, whether to en-
tertainments, or parties of pleafures, though not for
generally as if he had been his wife. She vifited,
and received vifits, as far as the practice is a mere ri-
tual of good breeding. Her friendſhips feem to have
been fill among the men, but he was treated with
great politeness by the ladies. D. S. p. 92.
'The Dean's mind had been now fo filled with po-
litics, that he found it impracticable to excel as a
preacher, his firft and most laudable ambition; and
frequently declared, that though he fometimes at-
tempted to exert him himſelf in the pulpit, yet he
could never rife higher than preaching pamphlets.-
[J. R. p. 42. ]· He was however ftill a good
Dean, and a good pricft: He applied himfelf to
the care of his deanery, his cathedral, its regu-
lations, its income and economy, with great di-
ligence; he renewed the primitive practice of cele-
brating the holy communion every Sunday; and at
this facrament he was not only conftantly prefent, but
he confecrated and adminiſtered it with his own hands,
in a manner equally graceful and devout; he attended
at
lxviii
OF
AN
ACCOUNT
at church every morning, and generally preached in his
turn; he alio conftantly attended the performance of
the anthem on a Sunday night, though he did not un-
deſtand muſic, to fee that the choir did not neglect
their duty. D. S. p. 370, 1.
As to his employment at home, he feems to have
had no heart to apply himself to ſtudy of any kind,
but to have refigned himſelf wholly to fuch amuſements
as offered, that he might not think of his fituation,
the misfortune of his friends, and the diſappointment
of his hope. Such at least is the account that he gives
to Mr. Gay, in his letter dated January 8, 1722-3.
"I was three years," fays he, "reconciling myfelf
to the ſcene and bufinels to which fortune hath con-
"demned me; and ftupidity was what I had re-
"courie to." t
It has been fuggefted, that the acquaintance he fell
into with men of learning made it neceffary for him
about this time to review his Greek and Latin, and
obtain fome acquaintance with church-history. J. R.
p. 101. But furely he who had ftudied eight hours
a day for feven years, or, according to Mr. Deane
Swift, D. S p. 271, 272, 276, ten hours a-day for nine
years; he who had read and extracted the fathers more
than fixteen years before, had little occafion to review
his Latin and Greek, or acquaint himself with church
hiftory, left he thould not fuftain his character among
learned men for except it be pretended that others
were
+ From 1714, till he appeared, in 1720, a champion for Ire-
land against Wood's halfpence, his fpirit of politics and of patriot-
iſm was kept almoſt cloſely confined within his own breaſt. Idle-
nefs and trifles ingroffed too many of his hours; fools and lyco-
phants too much of his converfation. However, it may be ob-
ferved, that the treatment which he received after the death of Q
Anne, was almoft a fufficient reafon to justify a contempt, if not an
abhorrence, of the human race. He had bravely withftood all hoi-
tile indignities, during the lifetime of that princefs; but when the
whole army of his friends were not only routed, but taken prifon-
ers, he dropt his fword, and retired into his fortification at Dublin,
from whence he feldom ftirred beyond the limits of his own garden,
unleſs in great indulgence to fome particular favourites. O. let. 6.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxix
were able to acquire more knowledge in lefs time and
with lefs labour, it must be allowed that Swift was
likely to be always the moft knowing of his compa-
ny. Lord Orrery fays, that he was little acquainted
with the mathematics, and never confidered the fci-
ence except as an object of ridicule:* but the author
of the Obfervations affirms, on the contrary, that he
had acquired confiderable mathematical knowledge;
and that he had ſeen him more than once undertake to
folve an algebraic problem by arithmetic. J. R. p. 101.
The first remarkable cvent of his life that occurred
after his fettlement at the deanery, was his marriage
to Mrs. Johnfon, after a moft intimate friendship of
more than fixteen years.
This was in the year 1716;
and the ceremony was performed by Dr. Ashe, then
Bishop of Clogher, to whom the Dean had been a
pupil in Trinity college, Dublin. But whatever
were the motives of this marriage, the Dean and the
lady continued to live afterwards juft in the fame man-
ner as they had lived before. †
Mrs. Dingley was
* See the notes, above, p. xxxvi.
ftill
Though it is admitted, that Dr. Swift was married to Mrs.
Johnſon in 1716, yet it may be afferted with great truth, that he
never had any ferious thoughts of marriage after he was one and
twenty. Some time indeed before, while he was a firipling in the
univerfity of Dublin, he had a paffion for Mifs Warren, the fifter
of his chamber-fellow. But whatever attachments he had to that
lady, upon his going to live in England, where he applied himſelf
clofe to politics and learning at Sir William Temple's, his paſſions
quickly fubfided, and he forgot his armour. Neither do I believe,
further than common forms, that he ever paid his court, through-
out his whole life, to any woman befides, in the character of a
profeffed lover. D. S. F. 93, 94.
+ Mrs. Johnfon, with regard to her manners, her virtues, her
mind, and her perfon, was not undeferving to have been married
to the greateft prince in Europe: but her defcent was from a fer-
vant of Sir William Temple; and therefore ſhe was by no means
worthy to have been the acknowledged wife of Dr. Swift, —If
Dr. Swift had acknowledged his marriage even with this improv-
ed, this adorable creature, he would, in fpite of his genius, and
all the reputation he had acquired in the days of K. William and Q.
Anne, have immediately funk in the esteem of the world. For
among
ixx
ACCOUNT OF
AN
ftill the infeparable companion of Stella where-ever
fhe went; and ſhe never refided at the deanery, except
when the Dean was feized with violent fits of giddi-
nefs which ſometimes lafted near a month.
Till this time he had continued his vifits to Vaneffa;
who, though she had fuffered very great pecuniary loff-
es, had yet preferved her reputation, and her friends:
for ſhe was vifited by many perfons of rank, character
and fortune, of both fexes; particularly Mrs. Conolly,
a lady of very high reputation; Dr. Berkeley, the late
moft excellent Bishop of Cloyne; the late Judge Lind-
fay, and the Lord Chief Justice Marley. D.S.p.262. The
Dean
among the rest of his enemies, (and theſe were not few) there were
fome that were not unacquainted with the ſtory of Mrs. Johníon's
birth and education, who, on account of fome particular difobli-
gations they had received from the Doctor, would have been glad
of an opportunity of expofing him to contempt and ridicule for the
meannnefs of his ſpirit; and as in that cafe they would have had
it full in their power, as well as ſtrong in their inclination, they
would have publiſhed and confirmed the obfcurity of Mrs. John-
fon's birth and education among all their acquaintance. They would
have declared, among other particulars, that Mrs. Johnſon, when
ſhe was about ten or eleven years old, was appointed to wait upon
the Doctor's fiſter in the character of her little fervant, during the
fummer that ſhe ſpent at Moorpark in 1692.
Neither can we
fuppofe, that even the Doctor's fifter, with whom he had quarreled
to fuch a degree as never to fee her face, on account of a match he
thought greatly beneath her acceptance. [above p. xlvii,] would
have stifled her indignation, or with any patience have forborn to
retaliate the feverities of her brother upon his own back, when
he himſelf had married and acknowledged a wife ſo very meanly
extracted, and particularly that individual perſon whom she deſpiſed
and hated beyond all the inhabitants on earth. In one word, if Dr.
Swift, whofe ambition was not to be gratified without ſome uncom-
mon degree of admiration, had acknowledged Mrs. Johnſon for a
wife, he would on all fides have been ſo perfecuted with contempt
and derifion, (as half mankind were in 1716 his profeffed enemies)
that, unable to fupport himself under the burthen of his afflicti-
on, he would have loft his fpirits, broken his heart, and died in a
twelvemonth. And accordingly we find he had more wildom than
to acknowledge this beautiful, this accomplished woman, for his
wife. D. S. p. 80, 83, 84, 85,
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. lxxi
Dean appears ſtill to have preferved the character of her
preceptor, to have directed her progrefs in literature,
and explained and illuftrated the authors fhe had
read. But foon after his marriage he visited her on
another account; he went as an advocate for Mr.
Dean Winter, whom he took with him, a gentleman
who was a profeſſed admirer of Vaneſſa, and had made
her fome overtures of marriage: but though he had
an eſtate of near 800l. a-year, befides 300l. a-year
preferment in the church; yet Vaneſſa rejected the
propofal in fuch terms, as that it was never repeated.
She was alfo addreffed by Dr. Price, who was after-
wards Archbishop of Cafhel, but without fuccefs.
[D. S. p. 263. 265.] From this time the Dean's
vifits were much lefs frequent. In the year 1717 her
fifter died; and the whole remains of the family-for-
tune being then centred in Vaneffa, fhe retired to
Selbridge, a ſmall houſe and eſtate, about twelve miles
diftance from Dublin, which had been purchaſed by
her father.
From this place fhe wrote frequently to the Dean,
and he anſwered her letters. In thefe letters fhe ftill
preffed him to marry her; and in his letters he ftill
rallied, and ftill avoided a pofitive denial. At length,
however, the infifted with great ardour, and great ten-
derness, upon his pofitive or immediate acceptance or
refufal of her as a wife. The Dean wrote an anſwer,
and delivered it with his own hand.
As this letter of Vaneffa's, which was written in 1723,
is a demonſtration that he was then utterly ignorant
of the Dean's marriage with Stella, and as the appears
to have known it almoft immediately afterwards, it is
probable that the Dean's anſwer communicated the fa-
tal fecret, which at once precluded all her hopes, and
accounted for his former conduct: it is probable too,
that the refentment which he felt at having it thus ex-
torted from him, was the caufe of the manner in which
he delivered the letter; for having thrown it down
upon her table, he hafted back to his horfe, and re-
turned immediately to Dublin. [D. S. p. 264. O.
let. 9.]
This
Ixxii
OF
AN ACCOUNT
This letter the unhappy lady did not furvive many
weeks. However, fhe was fufficiently compofed to
cancel a will that ſhe had made in the Dean's favour,
and to make another, in which fhe left her fortune,
which long retirement and frugality had in a great
meaſure reſtored, to her two executors, Dr. Berkeley,
the Bishop of Cloyne, and Mr. Marſhall, one of the
King's ferjeants at law, gentlemen whofe characters
are excellent in the higheſt degree.*
Such was the fate of Vaneffa. And, furely, thoſe
whom pity could not reftrain from being diligent to
load her memory with reproach, to conftrue appear-
anccs in the worst fenfe, to aggravate folly into vice,
and diſtreſs into infamy, have not much exalted their
own character, or ftrengthened their claim to the can-
dour of others. If Vaneffa, by her fondneſs for the
gaieties of life, encouraged by the example, and per-
haps influenced by the authority of a mother, leffened
her fortune at an age when few have been diſcreet; it
cannot be denied, that ſhe retrieved it by prudence and
œconomy, at an age when many have continued
diffolute; and was frugal, after the habit of expence
had made frugality difficult. If the could not fub-
due a paffion which has tyrannized over the ſtrongeſt
and pureft minds, fhe does not appear to have known
that it was criminal, or to have deſired that it might
be unlawfully gratified. She preffed a perfon whom
fhe believed fingle, to marry her; but it does not
therefore follow, that he was his concubine; much
lefs that the defired to be reputed fo, and was then
folicitous to incur the infamy which has been fince
thrown upon her. It cannot ſurely be believed, that
the fhameleſs and reputed concubine, even of Swift,
would have been vifited by ladies of credit and faſhion,
or folicited in marriage by two clergymen of eminence
and fortune, to whom her story and character must have
been well known. Befides, Dr. Berkeley, after having
carefully perufed all the letters that paffed between
them
• Sec vol. 6. p. 12, 13.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxxiji
them, which Vaneffa directed to be publiſhed, with
the poem, found, that they contained nothing that
could bring the leaft difgrace upon the Dean. Hers,
indeed, were full of paflionate declarations of her
love; his contained only compliments, excufes, apo-
logies, and thanks for trifling prefents. There was
not in either the leaft trace of a criminal commerce;
which, if there had been any fuch, it would, in fo
long an intercourfe, have been extremely difficult to
avoid and if the defired to be reputed his concu-
bine, it cannot be fuppofed that the concealed any
letter which would have proved that fhe was ſo, ef-
pecially as it would have gratified her refentient
against him, for refusing to make her his wife.
[J. R. p. 121. 122. 123.]
If it appears, therefore, that there was no crimi-
nal commerce between them, and that he did not
defire the world fhould believe there had been any;
it follows, from her directing the publication of the
poem, of which perhaps fhe poffeffed the only copy,
that, in her fenfe of the verfes, none of them impli-
ed a fact which would dishonour her memory. And
this appears alfo to have been the opinion of her ex-
ecutors, who, though they fuppreffed the letters, be-
cauſe they contained nothing that could do her honour,
yet publiſhed the poem; by which it must therefore
be fuppofed they did not think she would be diſgrac-
ed. [7. R. p. 123.]
It has indeed been faid, that Vaneffa, from the
time ſhe was deferted, "devoted herfelf, like Ari-
adne, to Bacchus," and perhaps it is true, that
in the anguifh of difappointed defire, the had re-
courſe to that dreadful opiate, which never fails to
complicate difeafe with trouble, to leave the fuffer-
er more wretched when its operation is at an end;
to divide life into frenzy and defpair, and at once to
haften the approach, and increaſe the terrors of
death. But it cannot be thought, that when ſhe
made her will, fhe was either intoxicated or deliri-
VOL. I.
d
* See vol. 6. p. 11.
ous,
lxxiv
AN ACCOUNT OF
}
ous, becauſe the perfect exerciſe of reafon is effen-
tial to the validity of the act. No particular of her
diftrefs, therefore, can weaken the arguments drawn
from the direction in her will to publish the poem and
the letters, of which the gratification of her vanity
was fo evidently the motive, that it is difficult to
conceive how it could be overlooked.
From 1716 to 1720 is a chaẩm in the Dean's life,
which it has been found difficult to fill up. That he
had no need to repeat his college-exercifes, has been
fhewn already; and that, in this interval, he went
through a voluminous courfe of ecclefiaftical hiftory
[J. R. p. 101.], feems farther improbable, by a letter
to Lord Bolingbroke, dated April 5. 1729, in which
it appears, that he was then reading Baronius, and
Baronius was the only piece of church-hiſtory that
was found in his library. Lord Orrery thinks, with
great reafon, that he employed this time, upon Gul-
liver's Travels. 0.let. 16.
The author of the Obfervations indeed fuppofes the
Dean's genius to be verging towards a decline in the
year 1723, and that Gulliver's Travels were written.
after that time: but in both theſe fuppofitions he is
probably miſtaken; though in the former he ſeems
to be favoured by a paffage in a letter written by the
Dean himself to Mr. Pope, dated Sept. 20. 1723.
That his genius was not declining in 1723, appears
by the Drapier's Letters, which were not written till
1724; and of theſe the Obfervator himſelf fays "his
:
genius never fhone out in greater ftrength than on
"that and the fubfequent occafions ;" a truth which
is univerfally acknowledged. That Gulliver's Tra-
vels were written before that time, is equally evi-
dent for Swift went into the north of Ireland early
in the fpring of 1725; and, in a letter to Dr. Sheri-
dan, during his refidence there, he puts him in mind
of his defcription of the Yahoos. So that Sheridan
muft have feen the Travels in manufcript, at leaſt
in the year 1724.
The Dean alfo, in a letter to Mr.
Pope, dated Sept. 29. 1725, fays, "Oh if the
"world had but a dozen of Arbuthnotts in it, I
I
"would
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxxv
"would burn my Travels." It may reaſonably be
concluded, therefore, that his Travels were then all
written, and that at this time he was reviewing and
retouching them for the prefs; efpecially as they
were publiſhed in 1726; and as he was otherwife
employed in 1724, they muſt have been written at
leaft before 1723.
Upon the whole, perhaps, it is not an extravagant
conjecture, that having, according to his own ac-
count, wholly neglected his ftudies for the first three
years of his refidence at the deanery, and indulged
the refentment which his diſappointments had produ-
ced, till it could be contained no longer, he conceiv-
ed the first notion of expreffing it in fuch a manner
as might correct the enormities which he expofed;
and with this view immediately began his Travels, of
which the first copy was probably finiſhed before the
year 1720.
About this time, the Dean, who had already ac-
quired the character of a humourist and a wit, was
first regarded with general kindnets, as the patriot
of Ireland. He wrote a propofal for the univerfal
uſe of Iriſh manufactures [vol. 3. p. 3.]; a tract which
as it was apparently calculated for the fervice of Ire-
land, and zealously condemned a facrifice of intereft
to England, made him very popular *. But this fer-
vice
dz
In the year 1720, Swift began to reaffume, in fome degree,
the character of a political writer. A fmall pamphlet in defence
of the Irish manufactures, was, I believe, his first effay, in Ire-
land, in that kind of writing; and to that pamphlet he owed the
turn of the popular tide in his favour. His fayings of wit and hu-
mour had been handed about, and repeated from time to time a-
mong the people. They had the effect of an artful preface, and
had pre-engaged all readers in his favour. They were adapted to
the understanding, and pleafed the imagination of the vulgar: and
he was now looked upon in a new light, and diſtinguiſhed by the
title of the THE DEAN. The flux and reflux of popular love
and hatred are equally violent. They are often owing to accidents
but fometimes to the return of reafon, which, unaffifted by educa-
tion, may not be able to guide the lower clafs of people into the
right tract at the beginning, but will be fufficient to keep them in
it, when experience has pointed out the road. The pamphlet pro-
poling
lxxvi
AN ACCOUNT OF
vice would not perhaps have been fo long and fo
zealouſly remembered, if a profecution had not been
commenced against the printer. As foon as this
meaſure was taken, the importance of the work was
eftimated by the diligence of the government to fup-
prefs it; and the zeal and integrity of the writer
were meaſured by the danger he had incurred. No
public notice, however, was taken of the Dean on
this occafion ; and Waters, the printer, after hav-
ing been long haraffed and imprifoned, at length ob-
tained a Noli profequi.
The Dean did not again appear in his political
character till the year 1724. A patent having been
iniquitouſly obtained by one Wood to coin 180,000l.
in copper for the ufe of Ireland, by which he would
have acquired exorbitant gain, and proportionably
impoverished the nation, the Dean in the character
of a Drapier, wrote a feries of letters to the people,
urging them not to receive this copper money. Thefe
letters united the whole nation in his praife, filled
every ſtreet with his effigies, and every voice with
acclamations; and Wood, though he was long fup-
ported by thofe who proſtituted the highest delegat-
ed authority to the vileft purpofes, was at length
compelled to withdraw his patent, and his money
was totally fuppreffed.*
Upon
pofing the univerſal uſe of Iriſh manufactures within the kingdom,
had captivated all hearts. Some little pieces of poetry to the fame
purpoſe were no leſs acceptable and engaging. The attachment
which the Dean bore to the true intereft of Ireland, was no long-
er doubted. His patriotifm was as manifeft as his wit. He was
looked upon with pleaſure and reſpect, as he paffed through the
ftreets and he had attained ſo high a degree of popularity, as to
become an arbitrator in the difputes of property among his neigh-
bours; nor did any man dare to appeal from his opinion, or to
murmur at his decrees, 0. let. 6.
* The popular affection which the Dean had hitherto acquired,
may be faid not to have been univerfal, till the publication of the
Drapier's letters, which made all ranks and all profeffions unani-
mous in his applaufe. The occafion of thoſe letters was a ſcarcity
of copper coin in Ireland, to fo great a degree, that for fome time
past the chief manufacturers throughout the kingdom were oblig-
cd
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. lxxvii
1
Upon the arrival of Lord Carteret, foon after the
publication of the fourth letter, feveral paffages
were felected as fufficient ground for a profecution;
and his excellency and council publifhed a proclama-
mation, offering 300l. reward for a difcovery of the
author. This proclamation gave the Dean a remark-
able opportunity to illuftrate his character. It hap-
pened, that his butler, whom he had employed as
his amanuenfis, and who alone was trufted with the
fecret, went out in the afternoon of the day of the
proclamation without leave, and ftaid abroad the
whole night, and part of the next day. There was
great reafon to fufpect that he had made an informa-
tion; and having received his reward, would never
return. The man however came home in the even-
ing and the Dean was adviſed by his friends to
take no notice of his fault, left he should be provok-
ed to a breach of truft, from the dread of which his
return had juft delivered them. But the Dean re-
jected this counfel with the utmoſt difdain, and con-
manding the man into his prefence, ordered him im-
mediately
ed to pay their workmen in pieces of tin, or in other tokens of
fuppofitious value. Such a method was very disadvantageous to the
lower parts of traffick, and was in general an impediment to the
commerce of the ftate. To remedy this evil, the late King grant-
ed a patent to William Wood, to coin, during the term of four-
teen years, farthings and halfpence in England for the fe of Ire-
land, to the value of a certain fum fpecified. Theſe halfpence and
farthings were to be received by thofe perfons who would volunta-
rily accept them. But the patent was thought of fuch dangerous
confequence to the public, and of ſuch exorbitant advantage to the
patentee, that the Dean, under the character of M. B. Drapier,
wrote a letter to the people, warning them not to accept of Wood's
halfpence and farthings as current coin. This first letter was fuc-
ceeded by feveral others to `the fame purpoſe; all which are inferted
in his works. At the found of the Drapier's trumpet, &c. [ice
vol. 3. p. 23. in the notes.]-
in the notes.]This is the moſt fuccinct account
that can be given of an affair, which alarmed the whole Irish na-
tion to a degree, that in a lefs loyal kingdom must have fomented
a rebellion but the ſtedfaſt loyalty of the Iriſh, and their true de-
votion to the prefent royal family, is immoveable; and although.
this unfortunate nation may not hitherto have found many diftin-
guishing marks of favour and indulgence from the throne, yet it is
to be hoped in time they may meet with their reward. 0. let. 6.
lxxviii
AN ACCOUNT OF
mediately to ftrip off his livery, and leave the houſe,
You villain," faid he, "I know I am in your
power, and for that very reafon I will the lefs
"bear with your infolence or neglect. I fuppofe by
"this time you are rewarded, or at least in a fair
way of being rewarded for your treachery."
AC
The man, in very fubmiffive terms, confeſſed that
he had been drinking all night, and intreated to be
forgiven; but Swift was inexorable. He then beg-
ged that he might be confined in fome part of the
houfe fo long as the proclamation could intitle him to
any reward, left, when he was driven from his fer-
vice, and deftitute of another, the temptation might
be too strong for his virtue, and his diftrefs might
involve him in a crime which he most abhorred.
Swift however was ftill inexorable; and the man
was difmiffed. During all the time of danger, Swift
obftinately refufed to contribute one farthing towards.
his fupport, nor could he be perfuaded to fee his
face; but when the time limited in the proclamation
was expired, he was permitted to return to his fer-
vice. Soon afterwards he was called haftily up by
the Dean; who, without any preface, again order-
ed him to ftrip off his livery, put on his own cloaths,
and then come to him again. The butler ſtared
with furprife, wondering for what crime he had de-
ferved to be turned out of his place. His mafter ob-
ferving this, aſked him if he had no cloaths of his
own to put on? he told him he had. Then go your
ways, faid the Doctor, and as foon as you have
thrown off your livery, and dreffed yourfelf, come
back to me again. The poor fellow, though he was
greatly aftonished at this proceeding, knew Swift
too well to expoftulate; and therefore, with what-
ever reluctance, did as he had been commanded.
When he returned, the Dean ordered the other fer-
vants to be called up; who immediately attended,
expecting that the butler was to be difmiffed in ter-
rorem, and that they fhould be warned in very fevere
terins of his offence. Swift, as foon as they had
ranged themſelves before him, ordered them to take
notice, that Robert was no longer his fervant; he is
now,
4
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxxix
now, faid the Dean, Mr. Blakely, the verger of St.
Patrick's cathedral, a place which I give him as a
reward for his fidelity. The value of this place is
between thirty and forty pounds a year. However,
Robert would not quit his mafter, but continued to
be his butler fome years afterwards. [D. S. p. 190,
1] In this inftance the Dean exercifed his pride,
his fortitude, and his equity, in a manner peculiar to
himfelf; and though there are many who would
equally have rewarded fuch fidelity, there are few
who would have ventured to wait the flue of fo fe-
vere and dangerous a probation.
From this time the Dean's influence in Ireland was
almoſt without bounds. He was confulted in what-
ever related to domeftic policy, and, in particular, to
trade. The weavers always confidered him as their
patron and legiflator, after his propofal for the uſe of
Irith manufactures, and came frequently in a body
to receive his advice in fettling the rates of their
ſtuffs, and the wages of their journeyinen; and
when elections were depending for the mix of Dub
lin, many corporations refufed to declare themfelves,
till they knew his fentiments and inclinations. Over
the populace he was the most abfolute monarch that
ever governed men; and he was regarded by per-
fons of every rank with veneration and efteem.*
It
The name of Auguftus was not beſtowed upon Octavius Cæfar
with more univerfal approbation, than the name of the Drapier was
bestowed upon the Dean. He had no fooner affumed his new gr
men, than he became the idol of the people of Ireland, to a degree
of devotion, that in the most fuperftitious country fearce any idol
ever obtained. Libations to his health, or, in plain English, bum-
pers, were poured forth to the Drapier, as large and as fequent as
to the glorious and immortal memory of K. William III. His ef-
figies were painted in every street in Dublin. Acclamations and
vows for his profperity attended his footsteps where-ever he paſſed.
He was confulted in all points relating to domeftic policy in general,
and to the trade of Ireland in particular: but he was more imme-
diately looked upon. as the legislator of the weavers, who frequently
came in a body, confifting of fifty or fixty chieftains of their trade,
to receive his advice, in fettling the rates of their manufactures,
and the wages. of their journeymen. He received their addreffes
with lefs majesty than fternefs, and ranging his fubjects in a circle
round
1xxx
AN ACCOUNT OF
It appears by many of his writings, that he lived
in great friendship and familiarity with Lord Carte-
ret during his lieutenancy, notwithstanding his Lord-
fhip had figned the proclamation to difcover him as
the writer of the Drapier's letters. Swift indeed re-
monftrated against this proceeding; and once aſked
his Lordship, how he could concur in the profecu-
tion of a poor honeft fellow, who had been guilty of
no other crime than that of writing three or four let-
ters for the inftruction of his neighbours, and the
good of his country? To this question his Excellency
elegantly replied, in the words of Virgil,
Regni novitas me talia cogit
Moliri.
·[D. S. p. 270.]
He was equally diligent to recommend his friends
to Lord Carteret as he had been to recommend them
to Lord Oxford, and he did it with the fame dig-
nity and freedom. "Pray, my Lord," faid he one
day, have you the honour to be acquainted with
the Grattons?" My Lord anfwcred, he had not;
Why then, pray, my Lord," faid Swift, "take
care to obtain it; it is of great confequence:
the Grattons, my Lord, can raife ten thousand
"men." [7. R. p. 95.] He obtained a living for
bis friend Dr. Sheridan; and he recommended feve-
ial others, of whom he knew nothing, but that they
were good men.
He uſed alfo to remonftrate with great freedom
againſt fuch meafures as he difapproved; and Lord
Carteret having gained the advantage of him in fcme
difpute concerning the diftreffes of Ireland, he cried
out in a violent paffion, "What the vengeance
*
brought you among us? Get you gone, get you
gone; pray God almighty fend us our boobies
"back
found his parlour, fpoke as copioufly, and with as little difficulty
and heſitation, to the feveral points in which they fupplicated his
affiftance, as if trade had been the only fludy and employment of
his life. When elections were depending for the city of Dublin,
many corporations refufed to declare them felves, till they had
confulted his fentiments and inclinations, which were punctually
followed with equal chearfulness and fubmiffion. In this ſtate of
power, and popular love and admiration, he remained till he loft
his fenfes. O, let. 6,
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxxxi
"back again." [J. R. p. 25.]; a reply which
ſhewed at once the turn, the ftrength, aad the vir--
tue of his mind; as it was a fine compliment to the
force of reafon, by which he had been juft foiled,
and was expreffed with all the vehemence of his
temper, and all the peculiarity of his wit.
•
He was feveral times in England, on a vifit to Mr.
Pope, after his fettlement at the deanery, particu-
larly in the years 1726 and 1727.
There is a paffage in one of his letters to Dr: Sheri-
dan, during his vifit in 1726, by which it appears,
that he then had fuch an offer of a fettlement, in the
midft of his friends, within twelves miles of Lon-
don, as if he had been ten years younger, he would
gladly have accepted: "but I am now," fays he,
too old for new fchemes, and eſpecially fuch as
** would bridle me in my freedoms and liberalities.'
He had alſo an invitation from Lord Bolingbroke to
(pend a winter with him at his houfe on the banks of
the Loire in France; and this he would have ac-
cepted, but that he received an account from Ire-
land, that Mrs. Johnfon was dangerously ill..
Mrs. Johnfon's conftitution was tender and deli-
cate; and, as the Dean himſelf fays, he had not
the ftamina vite. In the year 1724, fhe began vifi-
bly to decay; and, in the year 1726, was thought
to be dying, The Dean received the news with
agonies not to be felt but by the tendereft and moſt
ardent friendship, nor conceived but by the moſt
lively imagination; and immediately hafted back
into Ireland.
It happened, however, that Mrs. Johnfon, cor-
trary to the opinion of her phyfician, recovered a
moderate fhare of health; and the Dean, probab y
to complete fome defign, which in his hafte he h di
left unfinished, returned again to England in 1727.
From England he was once more about to fet out
for France, upon Lord Bolingbroke's invitation,
when news arrived of the King's death..
He had attended the late Queen, while fhe ·WOS
Princefs, in his former excurfions to England;, ar di
d 5:
Le
湘
​lxxxii
AN ACCOUNT OF
he had ſeen her twice in one week by her Royal
Highness's command in this. She had always treat-
ed the Dean with great civility, and the Dean had
treated her with his ufual and peculiar frankneſs.
The third day after the news of the late King's
death, he attended at court, and kiffed the King
and the Queen's hand upon their acceffion, and was
blamed by his friends for deferring it fo long.
What profpect he had of a change in public af-
fairs on this event, or of any advantage which fuch
a change might produce to himſelf or his friends,
does not appear; but he was earnestly intreated to
delay his journey. And when he had again deter-
mined to fet out, he was, upon fome new incidents,
again prevailed upon not to go, by the vehement
perfuafion of fome perfons, whom, he fays, he could
not difobey. Many fchemes were propofed, in which
he was eagerly folicited to engage; but he receiv
ed them coldly; not, as it appears, becauſe he was
determined no more to enter into public life, but be-
cauſe the ſchemes themfelves were fuch as he did
not approve. However, in the fame letter in which
he fays, that if the King had lived ten days longer,
he fhould not have dated it from London, but Paris,
he fays, that his fhare in the hurry of the time.
would not be long, and that he fhould foon return.
He was foon after feized with one of his fits of
giddinefs and deafnefs; a calamity which was
greatly aggravated by the news that Mrs. Johnſon
was again fo ill, that the physicians defpaired of her
life. Upon this occafion he relapfed into the agonies
of mind which he had felt the year before. He
expected by the next poft to hear that he was dead;
and intreated that he might be told no particulars,
but the event in general; for that, his age being
then within three months of fixty, his weakneſs and
his friendship would bear no more. As he defpair-
ed of feeing her alive, he determined, not to return
to Ireland fo foon as he had intended, but to pafs
the winter either near Saliſbury-plain, or in France.
That he might not be interrupted by company, and
condemned
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. lxxxiii
condemned to the torment of fuppreffing his forrow,
to preſerve the rules of good- breeding, he quitted
the houfe of Mr. Pope at Twickenham, and retired
to a village near London, with a female relation for
his nurfe. The next letter that he received, he kept an
hour in his pocket, before he could fufficiently forti-
fy himfelf against the fhock which he expected when
he fhould open it. However, as Stella's life ebbed
by flow degrees, and fometimes feemed at a fand,
if not to flow, his hope of a parting interview re-
vived, and he fet out for Ireland as foon as he was
able to travel.
He found her alive; but, after having languished
about two months longer, the expired on the 28th
of January 1727-8, in the 44th year of her age, re-
gretted by the Dean with fuch excels of affection
and efteem, as the keeneft fenfibility only could
feel, and the most excellent character cxcite.
Beauty, which alone has been the object of uni-
verial admiration and defire, which alone has ele-
vated the poffeffor from the lowest to the higheſt fla-
tion, has given dominion to folly, and armed ca-
price with the power of life and death, was in Stella
only the ornament of intellectual greatnefs; and
wit, which has rendered deformity lovely, and con-
ferred honour upon vice, was in her only the deco-
ration of fuch virtue, as without either wit or beau-
ty would have compelled affection, etteem, and re-.
verence.
Her ftature was tall, her hair and eyes black, her
complexion fair and delicate, her features regular,
foft, and animated, her fhape eafy and elegant, and
her manner feminine, polite, and graceful, there
was a natural mufic in her voice, and a pleafing
complacency in her afpect when he spoke.
As to her wit, it was confeffed by all her acquaint-
ance, and particularly by the Dean, that the never
failed to fay the best thing that was faid whenever
he was in company, though her companions were
ufually perfons of the beft understanding in the
kingdom.
But
[xxxiv
AN ACCOUNT OF
But this dangerous power was under the direction
of ſuch ſweetnefs of temper, fuch general kindness,
and reluctance to give pain, that he never indulged
it at the expence of another.
Neither was her wit merely of the colloquial kind.
She had great force of poetical fancy, could range.
her thoughts in a regular compofition, and exprefs
them in correct and harmonious verfe. Of her wit
in converfation fome inftances will be found under
the name of Bons mots; and two fpecimens of her
poetry are to be found. Her virtue was founded
upon humanity, aad her religion upon reafon. Her
morals were uniform, but not rigid; and her devo-
tion was habitual, but not oftentatious.
Why the Dean did not fooner marry this moft ex-
cellent perfon; why he married her at all; why his
marriage was fo cautiously concealed; and why he
was never known to meet her but in the prefence of
a third perfon, are inquiries which no man can an-
fwer, or has attempted to anfwer, without abſurdity
and are therefore unprofitable objects of fpeculation.*
HIS
* If any one should ask, why this renunciation of marriage-
rites? I shall answer that question by asking another. Why did not
Swift marry this adorable creature in or about the year 1702? was
he not exactly at that æra thirty-five, juft rifing into the meridian
of his abilities; and Mrs. Johnſon nineteen, in the full ſplendor
of the moſt attractive beauty, furrounded with every grace, and
bleſſed with every virtue, that could allure the affections and cap-
tivate the foul of the moft ftubborn philoſopher? And, without
diſpute, if the meanness of her birth, like an evil genius, had not
ftood in the way to oppoſe her felicity, not all the Dr. Swifts upon
earth could have refifted the force of her inchantments.- -As the
prime intention of Mrs. Johníon's going over to Ireland was to
captivate the affections of Dr. Swift, in all probability the ſecretly
hoped, from time to time, to complete her conqueft. But finding
upon the Queen's demife, when all the Doctor's hopes to gratify
his ambition were totally at an end, that although her Patonic
lover had quitted the noile and tumult of a political world,
and had retired, like a fober honeft clergyman, within the pre-
cincts of his deanery, he thought no more upon the ſubject of
wedlock than he had done for the preceding fourteen years; her
ſpirits might have become dejected, by her frequent r velving in
her mind the oddneſs of her fituation. If we fuppofe this to have
been h: cafe, it is not unresfonable to imagine, that Swift tho-
roughly
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxxxv
His peculiar connection with Mrs. Johnſon does
indeed appear to have been fufpected, if not known,
by his particular acquaintance: one of whom had
the courage indirectly to blame his conduct feveral
times, by fetting before him the example of a cler-
gyman of diftinguifhed merit, who married nearly
in the fame circunftances; but, inftead of conceal-
ing his marriage, retired into thrifty lodgings till he
had made a provifion for his wife, and then return-
ed to the world, and became eminent for his hofpi-
tality and charity. [J. R. p. 63.]
The Dean, whether moved by thefe reprefenta-
tions, or whether by any other motive, did at length
earnestly defire, that he might be publicly owned
as his wife: but as her health was then declining,
and his economy become micre fevere, fhe faid it
was too late; and infifted that they should continue
to live as they had lived before. To this the Dean
in his turn, confented; and fuffered her to difpofe
entirely of her own fortune, by her own name, to a
public charity when he died. [J. R. p. 56, 288.]
It appears by feveral little incidents, that Stella
regretted and c.fapproved the Dean's conduct, and
that the ſometimes reproached him with unkindneſs ;
for to fuch regret and reproach he certainly alludes
in the following verfes on her birth-day, in 1726.
O then, whatever heaven intends,
Take pity on your pitying friends!
Nor let your ills affe&t your mind,
To fancy they can be unkind.
Me furely me, you ought to ipare,
Who gladly would your fuff'rings thare.
{Vol. 6. p. 119.
It ſeems indeed to be generally agreed, that Stella
was deftroyed by the peculiarity of her circumftan-
ces;
roughly and fincerely her friend, and almoft her lover, was unable
to endure the leaſt abatement in her chearfulneſs and vivacity: and
therefore, to raiſe her ſpirits, and to fecure the fame of her inno-
cence from all pofiibility of reproach, relolved to gratify her with
the confcioufnels of being his legal wife. And this indeed, or
fomewhat very like it, how ſtrange foever and chimerical it may
found in the ears of the world, was certainly the reaſon that he
ever married her at all. D. S. p. 93⋅ 94 95.
ixxxvi
AN ACCOUNT OF
ces; and that the fabrick, however weak, by the
delicacy of its compofition, would not have fallen fo
foon, if the foundation had not been injured by the
flow minings of regret and vexation.
:
But it is alfo generally allowed, that, in this in-
ſtance, as in every other, the Dean's intention was
upright, though his judgment might be erroneous;
and, whatever cenfure his behaviour to Stella may
draw upon him, it muſt infure him fome praife, and
fecure him againſt fome calumny for it is a demon-
ftration, that he was the abfolute mafter of thoſe
paffions by which the greatest have been inflaved,
and the beſt ſometimes corrupted; and if he could
abstain from gratifying thefe paflions with a lady
whom he moft admired, after the gratification was
become lawful, he cannot, with any appearance of
reaſon, be fuppofed to have indulged the fame paf-
fon where there was lefs beauty to attract, and lefs
affection to urge, where it would have been attended
with guilt and infamy, where the motives were lefs
and the obſtacles more. [above, p. 84.]
From the death of Stella, his life became much
more retired, and the austerity of his temper natu-
rally increaſed. He could not join in the focial
chearfulneſs of his public days, or bear fuch an in-
trufion upon his own melancholy as the chearfulneſs
of others. Thefe entertainments therefore were
difcontinued; and he fometimes avoided the com-
pany of his moft intimate friends.* But when the
lenient hand of time had allayed the anguish of his
mind,
* Dr. Swift generally spent his time from noon till he went to
bed, which was ufually about eleven o'clock, in the pleafures of
converfation among a fet of companions either felect or mixed: a
courfe of life in which he continued for about thirteen years after
the change of times, until the deceaſe of Mrs. Johnfon in 1727-8.
But when he loft that companion, whofe genius he himſelf had
been improving and cultivating for at least five and twenty years,
he could no longer endure thofe pleafutes and amufements which
on his public days were conducted, under the eyes and direction of
his beloved Stella, with the greatest elegance and decorum. And
accordingly, having facrificed to her manes thefe polite and 1ati-
onal entertainments, he renounced his public days, and lived du-
ring the whole remainder of his life abundantly more retired,
D. S. p. 181.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxxxvii
mind, he feems to have regretted the effects of its
first violence, and to wish for the return of thofe
whom his impatience had banished. In the year 1732,
he complains, in a letter to Mr. Gay, that he had a
large houfe, and fhould hardly find one vifitor, if
he was not able to hire them with a bottle of wine.
"I generally," fays he, "dine alone; and am
"thankful if a friend will pafs the evening with
"me." He complains alfo about the fame time,
in a letter to Mr. Pope, that he was in danger of
dying poor and friendless, even his female friends
having forfaken him; which, as he fays, was what
vexed him moft. Thefe complaints were afterwards
repeated in a ſtrain of yet greater fenfibility and ſelf-
"have forfaken
pity. All my friends," fays he,
me."
เ
Vertiginofus, inops, ſurdus, malè gratus amicis.
Deaf, giddy, helplefs, left alone,
To all my friends a burden grozn. [vol. 7. p. 155.]
Yet he confeffes, that, though he was lefs patient
in folitude, he was harder to be pleafed with com-
pany; fo that even now perhaps his behaviour did
not much invite thofe whom before it had driven
away.*
His complaint of being forfaken by his female friends
fhews, that at this time his houfe was not a conſtant
feraglio of very virtuous women, who attended him
from morning till night, as my Lord Orrery has af-
ferted [vol. 6. p. 4.]; and it feems to imply, that the
Obfervator is alfo miftaken, when he fays, that fe-
males were rarely admitted into his houfe, and never
came but upon very particular invitations.
The ab-
fence
*Thefe feveral caufes, added to the death of fome, the difper-
fion of others, and the ingratitude of those who forfook the Doc-
tor's acquaintance, after they had made their fortunes under the
fhelter of his patronage, gave occafion to thofe melancholy, thoſe
tender complaints, of that once great and admired perſon; whoſe
converfation, even in his latter days, after the vigour and fprite-
line's of his genius had greatly fubfided, had fome what in it
ftrangely uncommon, which was not to be remarked in the reft of
human-kind. D. S. p. 309.
[xxxviii
AN ACCOUNT OF
fence of perfons whom he kept at fuch a diſtance,
and fo rarely admitted, could fcarce be fuppofed to
vex him moſt: nor is it easy to conceive, in what
fenſe they could be faid to forfake him, who never
came but upon particular invitation. However, as
to the feraglio, the Obfervator affirms, in the moſt
folemn manner, and from frequent intercourfe with
the Dean, and long intimacy with his moft intimate
friends, that Lord Orrery was grofsly misinformed,
and that no fuch ever fubfifted; Mrs. Whiteway, a
near relation, who came to live with him fome time
after Stella's death, being the only female in his fa-
mily, except fervar ts.
As he lived much in folitude, he frequently ann-
fed himſelf with writing; as appears by the dates
of many of his pieces, which are fubfequent to this
time. And it is very remarkable, that although his
mind was certainly greatly depreffed, and his prin-
cipal enjoyment at an end, when Mrs. Johnfon died;
yet there is an air of trifling and levity in fome of the
pieces which he wrote afterwards, that is not to be
found in any other. Such, in particular, are his di-
rections to fervants, [vol. 7.] and feveral of his letters
to Dr. Sheridan.
As he was undoubtedly much more tenderly and
ſtrictly connected with Stella than with any other
woman, fo his friendship feems to have been more
intimate and unreferved with Dr. Sheridan lan with
any other man; his letters to him are evidently the
ipontaneous effufious of his heart, whether he was
chearful or fad, and feem to imply a perfect ac-
quaintance with every peculiarity of his circum-
ftances.*
Dr. Sheridan was a clergyman of confiderable
parts and great learning. He had in particular an
extenfive and critical knowledge of the language and
hiftory of the ancient Greeks and Romans, which
he taught with great fuccefs in a grammar-fchool of
which he was mafter; and it was remarked, that
his
• See his letters on Stella's ficknefs, and from Sir Arthur Ache-
fon's.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
lxxxix
his fcholars brought to the univerfity, not only much
learning, but good morals. This gentleman was by
nature fuited to Swift as a companion in the higheſt
degree. He had a vein of humour that was a con-
ſtant occafion of merriment; he had an abfence of
mind, which rendered him a perpetual object of
raillery, and an indolent good nature, which made
him unapt to take offence; he was always difpoſed
to be chearful, and therefore readily concurred in
the entertainment of Swift's hours of pleafantry;
and could, without much pain or difpleafure, give
way to his petulance or his coldness, in his parox-
iſms of fretfulneſs and referve: he alfo greatly con-
tributed to Swift's amufement, by little fpritely
pieces of the inferior kind of poetry, which he was
always writing, and yet more to his employment,
by hints and materials which he was every moment
throwing out.
With this eafy, negligent, contented creature,
Swift paffed much of his time, as well during Mrs.
Johnſon's life as afterwards. And though there is
in general an air of fuperiority in his letters, and
might be fometimes, in his behaviour, a want of
that complacency which no familiarity ſhould ex-
clude; yet it appears that the Dean did not hold
Sheridan cheap. Sheridan he loved for his own
merit, and was content to have deferved his love by
the intereft of another. Stella, fays he, loved
you well; and a great fhare of the little merit I
"have with you, is owing to her folicitations."
In the year 1733, when an attempt was made to
repeal the teſt-act in Ireland, the diffenters often af-
fected to call themselves brother Proteftants, and fel-
low Chriftians, with the members of the eſtabliſhed
church. Upon this occafion the Dean wrote a fhort
copy
of verfes, [vol. 7. p. 29. Jin which there is a paffage
that fo provoked one Bettefworth, a lawyer, and mem-
ber of the Irish parliament, that he fwore, in the hear-
ing of many perfons, to revenge himſelf either by
murdering or maiming the author: and, for this
purpoſe, he engaged his footman with two ruffians,
to fecure the Dean wherever he could be found.
As
XC
OF
AN ACCOUNT
As foon as this oath and attempt of Bettefworth
were known, thirty of the nobility and gentry of the
liberty of St. Patrick's waited upon the Dean in formi,
and prefented a paper, fubfcribed with their names,
in which they folemrly engaged, in behalf of them-
felves and the reſt of the liberty, to defend his per-
fon and fortune, as the friend and benefactor of his
country.
Such was the reverence and affection with which
Swift was treated in his old age; not by domeftics
or dependents, whom the hope of fome future ad-
vantage night induce to diffemble, but by perfons
of rank and fortune, with whom he had no connec-
tion, but as a benefactor to the public, and who, as
they had nothing future to hope, could be prompted
only by gratitude for the paft; fuch gratitude as was
never yet excited but by characters very different
from actual mifanthropy, or fordid felfishness.
When this paper was delivered, Swift was in bed,
giddy and deaf, having been fome time before feiz-
ed with one of his fits; but he dictated an answer,
in which there is all the dignity of habitual pre-
eminence, and all the refignation of humble piety.
Though he acknowledged the kindness of his friends,
yet he declared his truft to be in God. He bewail-
ed his incapacity to receive and thank them, as in
juftice and gratitude he ought; and concluded with
a fhort but pathetic prayer for their temporal and
eternal happiness.
Theſe fits of giddinefs and deafnefs, which were
the effects of his furfeit before he was twenty years
old, became more frequent and more violent in pro-
portion as he grew into years. And in 1736, while he
was writing a fatire on the Irish parliament, which
he called The legion-club, [vol. 7. P. 45.] he was feized
with one of thefe fits; the effect of which was fo
dreadful, that he left the poem unfinished, and ne-
ver afterwards attempted a compofition, either in
verfe or profe, that required a courfe of thinking,
or perhaps more than one fitting to finish.
From this time his memory was perceived gradu-
ally to decline, and his paffions to pervert his under-
ſtanding;
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
xci
ftanding; a calamity to which many particulars
ſeem to have concurred.
His folitude, which has been already accounted
for, prevented the diverfion of his mind by conver-
fation from brooding over his difappointments, and
aggravating every injury that he had fuffered, by all
the circumflances which ingenious refentment, if it
does not find, is apt to create; a refolution which
he had taken, and to which he obftinately adhered,
not to wear ſpectacles, precluded the entertainment
which he might otherwife have found in books; and
his giddinefs, though it was a mere corporal difor-
der, prevented the employment of bis mind in com-
pofition. In this fituation, his thoughts feem to have
been confined to the contemplation of his own mifery,
which he felt to be great, and which in this world
he knew to be hopeles. The fenfe of his prefent
condition was neceffarily complicated with regret of
the paft, and with refentment both againſt thoſe by
whom he had been banished, and thoſe who had de-
ferted him in his exile. A fixed attention to one ob-
ject, long continued, is known to deftroy the balance
of the mind; and it is not therefore ftrange, that
Swift ſhould by degrees become the victim of out-
rageous madneſs.
That he was weary of life, appears by many paf-
fages in his letters and expreffions to his friends. *
In 1739, three years after his memory firft declined,
he had been ſtanding with a clergyman under a very
large heavy pier glafs, which, juft as they moved
to another part of the room, fell down, and broke to
pieces. The clergyman, ftruck with a fenfe of the
danger from which they had efcaped, turned to
Swift, and cried out, "What a mercy it is that we
"moved
for
* It was, many years before the Doctor had loft his memory,
a common faying of his, at the time of his parting in the evening
with an intimate friend, that uſed to vifit him twice or thrice a-
week, "Well; God bless you; good night to you; but I hope I
"fhall never ſee you again." In this manner he would frequently
express the defire he had to get rid of the world, after a day ſpent
in chearfulneſs, without any provocation from anger, melancholy,
or diſappointment. D. S. p. 217.
xcii
AN ACCOUNT OF
"moved the moment we did! for if we had not,
t
we ſhould certainly have been killed." The Dean
replied, that, as to himſelf he was forry he had
changed ground, and wished the glafs had fallen
upon him. D. S. p. 217.
Till about the time of this accident, though his
memory was become very defective, and his paflions
more violent, yet his converfation was ftill fpritely
and fenfible, but mingled with more fatire, and that
fatire was more bitter. He alfo continued to cor-
refpond by letter with his friends in England; par-
ticularly Mr. Pope, with whom he had contracted
an early friendship, which continued till his death.
It has been faid, that towards the end of their lives
it grew cold but the Dean, in a letter to Lord Or-
rery, which he wrote a fhort time before his inca-
pacity, fays" When you fee my dear friend Pope,
tell him, I will anfwer his letter foon; I love him
"above all the rest of mankind." He has also called
Mr. Pope his dearest friend in his will; and Mr.
Pope, in a letter which was written about the fame
time, makes this requeft, "Affure him (the Dean),
"the world has nothing in it I admire ſo much, no-
thing the lofs of which I fhould regret ſo much, as
"his GENIUS and his VIRTUES.
In the beginning of the year 1741, his underſtand-
ing was fo much impaired, and his paffions fo much
increaſed, that he was utterly incapable of conver-
fation. Strangers were not permitted to approach
him, and his friends found it neceffary to have
guardians appointed of his perfon and eftate. Early
in the year 1742, his reafon was wholly fubverted,
and his rage became abfolute madness. The laſt
perſon whom he knew was Mrs. Whiteway; and the
fight of her, when he knew her no more, threw him
into fits of rage fo violent and dreadful, that fhe was
forced to leave him; and the only act of kindneſs
that remained in her power, was to call once or
twice a-week at the deanry, inquire after his health,
and fee that proper care was taken of him. Some-
times fhe would fteal a look at him when his back
was towards her, but did not dare to venture into
his
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xciii
his fight. He would neither eat nor drink while the
fervant who brought him his provifions ftaid in the
room his meat, which was ferved up ready cut,
he would fometimes fuffer to ftand an hour on the
table before he would touch it, and at last he would
eat it walking; for, during this deplorable ſtate of
bis mind, it was his conftant cuftom to walk ten hours
a-day.
In October 1742, after this frenzy had continued
feveral months, his left eye fwelled to the fize of an
egg, and the lid appeared to be fo much inflamed
and difcoloured, that the furgeon expected it to
mortify; feveral large boils alfo broke out on his
arms and his body. The extreme pain of this tu-
mour kept him waking near a month; and, during
one week, it was with difficulty that five perfons kept
him, by mere force, from tearing out his own eyes.
It has been obferved, that corporal pain, whether
by forcing the mind from that object which has in-
groffed it, or by whatever means, has restored lu-
natics to the uſe of reaſon; and this effect, in a
great degree, it produced upon the Dean: for just
before the tumour perfectly fubfided, and the pain
left him, he knew Mrs. Whiteway, took her by the
hand, and ſpoke to her with his former kindneſs.
That day, and the following, he knew his phyfician
and furgeon, and all his family, and appeared to
have fo far recovered his underſtanding and temper,
that the furgeon was not without hopes he might
once more enjoy fociety, and be amufed by the
company of his old friends. This hope, however,
was but of fhort duration; for a few days after-
wards he funk into a ftate of total infenfibility, flept
much, and could not, without great difficulty, be
prevailed upon to walk cross the room.
This was
the effect of another bodily diſeaſe, his brain being
loaded with water. Mr. Stevens, an ingenious cler-
gyman of Dublin, pronounced this to be the cafe
during his illness; and, upon opening his body, it
appeared that he was not mistaken: but though he
often intreated the Dean's friends and phyficians
that his bead might be trepanned, and the water
difcharged,
x civ
AN ACCOUNT OF
diſcharged, no regard was paid to his opinion or
his intreaty. J. R. p. 149.
After the Dean had continued filent a whole year
in this ſtate of helpleſs idiocy, his houfekeeper went
into his room on the 30th of November, in the morn-
ing, and told him that it was his birth-day, and that
bonfires and illuminations were preparing to celebrate
it as ufual. To this he immediately replied, It is
all folly, they had better let it alone.
Some other inftances of fhort intervals of fenfibi-
lity and reafon, after his madneſs had ended in ſtu-
por, feem to prove that his diſorder, whatever it
was, had not destroyed, but only fufpended the pow-
ers of his mind.
He was fometimes vifited by Mr. Deane Swift, a
relation; and about Chriſtmas 1743, he feemed de-
firous to ſpeak to him. Mr. Swift then told him he
came to dine with him ; and Mrs. Ridgeway, the
houſekeeper, immediately faid, Won't you give Mr.
Swift a glass of wine, Sir? To this he made no an-
fwer, but fhewed that he undertood the question,
by fhrugging up his fhoulders, as he had been uſed
to do when he had a mind a friend ſhould ſpend the
evening with him; and which was as much as to
fay, You will ruin me in line. Soon after he again
endeavoured, with a good deal of pain, to find
words: but at last, after many efforts, not being
able, he fetched a deep figh, and was afterwards
filent. A few months afterwards, upon his houfe-
keeper's removing a knife as he was going to catch
at it, he ſhrugged up his fhoulders, and faid, "I
am what I am, I am what I am; " and in about
fix minutes repeated the fame words two or three
times.
k
;
In the year 1744, he now and then called his fer-
vant by his name and once attempting to ſpeak to
him, but not being able to exprefs his meaning, he
fhewed figns of much uneafinefs, and at laft faid,
"I am a fool." Once, afterwards, as his fervant
was taking away his watch, he ſaid, Bring it here;
and when the fame fervant was breaking a large
hard
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
XCV
hard coal, he faid, "That is a ſtone, you block-
"head."
From this time he was perfectly filent till the lat-
ter end of October 1745; and then died, without
the least pang or convulfion, in the 78th year of his
age.
By his will, which is dated in May 1740, juſt be-
fore he ceaſed to be a reaſonable being, he left about
12001. in fpecific legacies, and the rest of his for-
tune, which amounted to about 11,000l. to erect
and endow an hofpital for idiots and lunatics.
He was buried in the great ifle of St. Patrick's ca-
thedral, under a ftone of black marble, infcribed
with an epitaph in Latin, written by himſelf.
From this narrative of his life, and from his works,
to which it is prefixed, the ftriking peculiarities of
his character may eaſily be collected; but there are
fome incidents which relate to his converfation, and
fome which refpect his perfon and private economy,
which should by no means be omitted.
In company he neither wrapped himſelf up in his
own importance, without deigning to communicate.
his knowledge, or exert his wit; nor did he ingrofs
the converfation by perpetual and overbearing lo-
quacity. His rule was, never to fpeak more than a
minute at a time, and then to wait at leaft as long
for others to take up the converfation; after which
he had a right to ſpeak again. His colloquial ftyle,
like that of his writings, was clear, forcible, and
concife. [D. S. p. 366. J. R. p. 203.] He greatly
excelled in punning; a talent which, he faid, no
man affected to defpife, but thoſe that were without
it; and his converfation would have furniſhed a
more excellent compendium of this fpecies of wit,
than was ever yet compiled, or perhaps ever will.
Some of thefe fallies of his imagination are fill re-
membered; and among others the following; which
may ſerve for examples.
He happened to be at the caftle, in the lieutenancy
of the Earl of Pembroke, when a learned phyfician
was haranguing his Excellency upon the nature and
qualities of bees, which he was perpetually calling
a nation
xcvi
OF
AN ACCOUNT
a nation and commonwealth : Yes, my Lord,"
fays Swift," they are a nation, and of great anti-
"quity; you know, my Lord, Mofes takes notice
"of them; he numbers the Hivites among the na-
tions which Joshua was appointed to conquer."
He was another time in company with a lady,
whofe long train happened to fweep down a fine fid-
dle, and break it; upon which he immediately cried
out,
Mantua væ miferæ nimium vicina Cremona.
But his converfation abounded with turns of wit
of a higher kind. Being one day at a ſheriff's feaft,
who, after feveral other toafts had been drank, called
out to him," Mr. Dean, The Trade of Ireland :" the
Dean turned about, and immediately anfwered,
Sir, I drink no memories.” * [J. R. p. 214.]
66
He greatly admired the talents of the late Duke of
Wharton, and hearing him, one day, recount many
of his frolics, Ay, my Lord," ſaid he, "you
have had many frolics: but let me recommend
one more to you, take a frolic to be virtuous. I af-
"fure you it will do you more honour than all the
"reft." [J. R.
[J. R. p. 216.]
The Dean alfo greatly excelled in telling a ſtory:
and though in the latter part of his life he was very
apt to tell his ftories too often, yet his wit, as well
as his virtue, was always fuperior to the wretched
expedients of thoſe defpicable babblers, who are per-
petually attempting to put off double entendre and
profaneneſs for humour and wit. His converſation
was in the highest degree chafte, and wholly free
from the leaſt tincture of irreligion. [J. R. p. 218.]
As he was zealous to preferve all the delicacies of
converfation, he was always beſt pleaſed when ſome
of the company were ladies. And in a letter to Lord
Oxford, he fays, "Since women have been left out
"of all meetings, except parties at play, or where
"worfe
* Dr. Brown, Bishop of Cork, had just then printed two pam-
phlets, and preached feveral fermons, in which drinking to memo-
ries was zealouЛfly condemned. Hawkf.
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
cxvii
"worſe deſigns are carried on, our converfation has
very much degenerated." + And in this inſtance
his example is a reproof to thofe pedants, who fup-
poſe that women are never in their proper fphere,
but in the dreffing-room or the nurſery.
If the converfation turned upon ferious fubjects,
he was neither petulant in the debate, nor negligent
of the iffue. He would liften with great attention to
the arguments of others; and whether he was or
was not engaged as a difputant himfelf, he would
recapitulate what had been ſaid, ſtate the queſtion
with great clearness and precifion, point out the con-
troverted particular, and appeal to the opinion ei-
ther of fome neutral perfon, or of the majority.
[D. S. p. 363.]
It is, however, true, that he kept his friends in
fome degree of awe and
; yet he was more open to
admonition than flattery, if it was offered without
arrogance, and by perfons of whofe ability and ho-
nefty he had no doubt. [J. R. p. 19.] In his poem of
Baucis and Philemon [vol. 6. p. 42.], which does not
confift of quite two hundred verſes, Mr. Addiſon made
him blot cut fourícore, add fourfcore, and alter four-
fcore. It was cuftomary with his friends to make
him fome little annual prefent on his birth-day;
fomething, according to his own definition of a pre-
fent, which was of no great value, but which could
not be bought: and Dr. Delany, foon after he was
admitted to fome degree of intimacy, fent him, with
fuch a memorial of his efteem, fome verfes, in which
he upbraids him, though with great delicacy, for
mifapplying his talents; and admonishes him to turn
the force of ridicule, of which he was fo great a
maſter, upon thoſe who had laboured to employ it
against the facred doctrines of Chriftianity. The
Dean, as he had fuffered Addifon's correction with
approbation, received this admonition with kind-
nefs: he fighed, and faid, with great appearances
of regret, that it was too late and from that day
VOL. I.
e
;
took
+ Propofal for correcting the Engliſh tongue, in vol. 4. p. 366.
xcviii
OF
AN ACCOUNT
A
took all cccafions to diftinguish Delany by the name
of friend.
He had indeed no fkill in mufic, and fo was not
able to entertain his company with a fong, to which
fome men of great dignity, and great parts, have
condefcended; but his power of ridicule extended
even to muſic, of which he gave an inſtance too fin-
gular to be forgotten.
46
Dr. Pratt, who was then provoft of Dublin col-
lege, had acquired much of the Italian tafte for
mufic in his travels; and Tom Roffengrave, a cele-
brated performer, being juft returned from Italy,
played a voluntary at St. Patrick's cathedral, where
Dr. Pratt heard him, and Swift was alfo prefent.
The Doctor happened to dine at the deanery the
fame day, and was fo extravagant in his encomiums
on Roffengrave's voluntary, that feveral of the com-
pany faid they wished they had heard it. "Do
you ?" faid Swift ; "then you fhall hear it ftill;'
and immediately he fung out fo lively, and yet fo
ridiculous an imitation of it, that all the company
were kept in continual laughter till it was over, ex-
cept one old gentleman, who fat with great compo-
fure; and though he liftened, yet fhewed neither
curiofity nor approbation. After the entertainment,
he was afked by fome of the company, How it hap-
pened that he had been no more affected by the mu-
fic? To which he anſwered with great gravity, That
he had heard Mr. Roffengrave himfelf play it before.
Such was Swift as a companion. As a mafter he was
not lefs remarkable or meritorious.
As he expected punctual, ready and implicit obe-
dience, he always tried his fervants when he hired
them by fome teft of their humility. Among other
queftions, he always afked whether they understood
cleaning fhoes; becaufe, faid he, my kitchen-wench
bas a cullion that does her drudgery, and one part
of the bufinefs of my groom and footman is conftantly
to clean her fhoes by turns. If they fcrupled this,
the treaty was at an end; if not, he gave them a
farther bearing
His
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. xcix
His kitchen-wench, however, was his cook, a
woman of a large fize, robuft conftitution, and coarſe
features, whofe face was very much feamed with
the fmall-pox, and furrowed by age. This woman
he always diftinguished by the name of Sweetheart.
[vol. 6. p. 191.]
; upon
It happened one day, that Sweetheart greatly
over-roafted the only joint he had for dinner
which he fent for her up, and with great coolness
and gravity, "Sweetheart," fays he, "take this
"down into the kitchen, and do it lefs." She re-
plied, that was impoffible. Pray then," faid he,
if you had roafted it too little, could you have
"done it more ?" Yes, fhe faid,. fhe could eaſily
"have done that." <<
Why then, Sweetheart," re-
plied the Dean, "let me adviſe you, if you muſt com-
mit a fault, commit a fault that can be mended.”
To the rest of his fervants indeed he appeared to
be churlish and auftere; but in reality was one of
the best mafters in the world. He allowed them
board-wages at the highest rate then known; and
if he employed them about any thing out of the or-
dinary courfe of their fervice, he always paid them
to the full value of the work as he would have paid
another. With theſe emoluments, and the frag-
ments from his table, he expected they fhould find
themſelves in victuals, and all other neceffaries, ex-
cept the liveries which he gave them. If, in this
fituation, their expences were greater than their in-
come, it was judged a fufficient reafon to diſcharge
them ; but, on the contrary, as foon as they had
faved a full year's wages, he conftantly paid them
legal intereft for it, and took great pleature in feeing
it accumulated to a fum which might fettle them in
fome employment if he fhould die, or if they found
it adviſable to quit his fervice, which feldom hap-
pened. And he, with whom his fervants live long,
has indubitable witneffes that he is a good mafter.
It is alfo certain, that, notwithstanding the appa-
rent aufterity of his temper, he did not confider his
fervants as poor flaves, to whofe fervice he had a
right, in confidèration merely of his money, and -
owed them no reciprocal obligation.
e 2
Hc
C
OF
AN ACCOUNT
He had a fervant whom he ufed to call Saunders,
that lived long with him, and at length fell fick and
died. In his fickneſs, which lafted many months,
Swift took care that all poffible relief and affiftance
fhould be afforded him; and when he died, he bu-
ried him in the fouth ifle of his cathedral, and erect-
ed a fall piece of Statuary to his memory, with this
infcription:
Here lieth the body of
Alexander Magee, fervant to Doctor Swift,
Dean of St. Patrick's.
His grateful mafter caused this monument to be erected in
memory of his difcretion, fidelity, and diligence, in that
bumble flation.
Ob. Mar. 24, 1721, ætat. 29.
In the original copy, which the author of the Ob ·
fervations faw in the Dean's own hand, the expreffion
was ftill ftronger, and more to the Dean's honour,
thus :
His grateful friend and maſter.
But a perſon of the Dean's acquaintance, who is
much more diftinguiſhed for vanity than wiſdom, pre-
vailed upon him to leave out friend, even in oppofi-
tion to his own well-known maxim, That a faithful
fervant should always be confidered, not as a poor
ſlave, but an humble friend. Of this perfon the name
is not told; but to conceal it, is rather injuftice than
mercy; for he ought, on this occafion, to inherit a
difgrace at leaft proportionate to the honour which
he found means to withhold from Swift.
As a member of civil fociety, he was a zealous
advocate for liberty, the detector of fraud, and the
fcourge of oppreffion. In his private capacity he
was not only charitable, but generous; and what-
ever mifanthropy may be found in his writings, there
does not appear to have been any in his life.
His writings in defence of the poor infatuated pec-
ple of Ireland are well known, and that he might
nol
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
ci
not be wanting himſelf while he pleaded their caufe
with others, he constantly lent cut a large fum of
money in fmall portions to honeft, diligent, and ne-
ceffitous tradefmen, who paid it with a fmall gratui-
ty by way of intereft to the perfon who kept the ac-
count of the difburſements and weekly payments; for
he received back theſe loans by a certain fum cut of
the weekly profit of the borrower's trade, in ſuch
proportions that the whole ſhould be repaid in a year.
[J. R. p. 203. 4.]
Befides this he frequently gave away 5 and ol
when proper objects offered, without any parade.
He was indeed diligent to relieve the poor, and at
the fame time to encourage induftry, even in the
loweft ftation; and ufed regularly to vifit a great
number of poor, chiefly women, as well in the pub-
lic ſtreets, as in the by-alleys ; and under the
arches of Dublin. Some of thefe fold plums, fome
hobnails, others tape, and others ginger-bread;
fome knitted, fonic darned ftockings, and others.
cobbled fhoes: thefe women were most of them
old, deformed, or crippled, and fome were all three.
He faluted them with great kindness, afked how
they throve, and what ftock they had? if the ware
of any of them was fuch as he could poffibly uſe, or
pretend to uſe, he bought fome, and paid for every
halfpenny worth fix pence; if not, he always add-
ed fomething to their ftock, and ſtrictly charged
them to be induftrious and honeft. [J. R. p. 132
133.]
It muſt be confeffed, that theſe acts of bounty did
not appear to be the effects of compaflion: for of
the foft fympathy with diftrefs that fometimes fparkles
in the eye, and femetimes glows upon the cheek, he
thewed no fign; and he may therefore be fuppofed
to have wanted it. However, it is certain, that he
was wholly free from ill-nature; for a man can have
no complacence in that evil which he is continually
bufy to remove.
His bounty had not indeed the indifcriminating ar-
dour of blind inſtinct; and, if it had, it would not have
been
cii
AN ACCOUNT OF
been the inftrument of equal happinefs. To feed
idleness, is to propagate mifery, and difcourage vir-
tue but to infure the reward of induftry, is to be-
ſtow a benefit at once upon the individual and the
public; it is to preferve from defpair thofe who
truggle with difficulty and difappointment; it is to
fupply food and reft to that labour which alone can
make food tasteful and reſt ſweet, and to invigorate
the community by the full uſe of thoſe members,
which would otherwife become not only uſeleſs, but
hurtful; as a limb in which the vital fluid ceafes to
circulate, will not only wither, but corrupt. In this
view, then, the bounty of Swift was, like every o-
ther Chriſtian duty, a reaſonable ſervice. And that
he felt no fecret pleaſure in the calamities of others
may be fairly concluded, not only from this general
practice, but from many particularly facts, in which
he appears to have been watchful and zealous to al-
leviate diftrefs by unfolicited and unexpected li-
berality.
It happened, that a young gentleman of his choir,
being abroad with his gun, fuffered irreparable hurt
by its going off accidentally. When the Dean heard
of it, he expreffed great concern; and, having pauf-
ed a little, Well," faid he, this will be a good
"time at once to reward merit and alleviate dif-
"trefs; I will make him a vicar:" which he did
accordingly the fame hour.
(
There are fome infirmities to which the mind as
well as the body naturally becomes fubject in the
decline of life. The defire of accumulating wealth
almoſt always increaſes in proportion as it becomes
inore abfurd; and thofe are moft tenacious of money
to whom money can be of leaft ufe. It has been
generally faid, that this weakness is the effect of
long acquaintance with mankind, who are found to
deferve less confidence and lefs kindneſs as they are
more known. And indeed, though this opinion fhould
not haftily be admitted, it must yet he confeffed,
that the first article in which men leffen their ex-
pences, is generally the money they have been uſed
to
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
ciii
to give away, and that they gradually lose the in-
clination to do good as they acquire the power. But
Swift, if he was not exempt from the infirmity, was
yet clear of the vice. If his œconomy degenerated
into avarice, it must be confeffed that his avarice did
not contract his bounty; and he fuffers no degrada-
tion in his moral character, who, when the practice
of any virtue is become more difficult, is yet able to
exert it in the fame degree.
Swift turned all the vil of exceffive frugality upon
himfelf. It induced him to walk when he had been
uſed to ride; and he would then fay he had earned
a fhilling or eighteen pence, which he had a right to
do what he pleafed with, and which he conftantly
applied to his ufual charities; which by this expe-
dient he could continue, and yet expend lets upon
the whole than before. But the diftribution of this
charity even was marked with the peculiarity of his
character; for that he might proportion his bounty
to the neceflities and the merit of various objects,
and yet give but one piece of money at a time, be
conftantly kept a pocket full of all forts of coin,
from a filver three-pence to a crown-piece. [J. R.
P. 13.]
But as his defire of immediate gain was not grati-
fied at the expence of the poor, to whofe diftrefs he
was a witnefs, neither was it gratified at the ex-
pence of thofe whom it was impoffible he should
know, though he had many opportunities of doing
it.
He once refolved never to renew a certain leaſe be-
longing to the deanery, without raifing the rent
30l. a year. The tenant had often folicited him,
inftead of raising the rent, to take a larger fine:
and this man, a very fhort time before the dean loft
his memory, urged him with a very large fum, fup-
pofing, that as raifing the rent could only enrich the
Dean's fucceffor, and a large fine would come into
his own coffer, he should certainly fucceed. The
Dean however maintained his integrity, refuſed the
offer with indignation, and fulfilled his purpofe of
raifing
civ
AN ACCOUNT OF
raifing the rent; though at this time his memory
was to bad, that the next day he did not remember
what he had done, and his love of
and his love of money fo predo-
minant over every thing but his virtue, that, though
he complained of being deferted, yet he banished
his best friends, merely to fave the expence of en-
tertaining them; and would fometimes refufe them
a fingle bottle of wine. J. R. p. 208. 145.]
As an ecclefiaftic, he was fcrupulously exact in the
exercife of his function, as well with regard to fpi-
ritual as temporal things.* As to his cathedral, he
expended more money to fupport and adorn it, than
had been applied to the fame ufe in any period fince
it was first built f. He was extremely exact and con-
fcientious
* Great coolness of temper, gentlencfs of deportment, and a
profound respect to his fuperiors in the church, were the diftin-
Eufhing characteriſtics of Dr. Swift. The following ſtory may not
Le improper here. Bp. ***, who had been lately tranflated from
Bangor to the fee of Meath, had not only the misfortune, in the
violent days of party, to reflect with fome degree of afperity on the
Reverend Mr. one of his own clergy; but also to recom-
mend unto his whole diocefe the wearing of numms, or fcraps of
linen to cover dirty fhirts. This behaviour in the Bishop, and ef-
pecially this recommendation of numms, fired the indignation of
Swift to the uttermoft. He fell upon the Bishop, when he got
him into the fynod, with outrageous ſeverity; and after he had
fpoken in defence of Mr. ***, "What," faid he, "do you think
you have gotten among your Welch clergy? I would have you
to know,!" faid he, ftripping up his caffock from his arms, and
tearing open the breaft of his waiſtcoat, "that you have gotten in-
to a dioceſe of gentlemen, who "abhor dirt, and filth, and naſti-
nefs. And thus he drove on, lafhing the Bishop, and making
him feel his farcafms. Two gentlemen lay concealed in the church
of Trim during the time of the fynod, not without the conni-
vance of Dr. Swift, who had in a great meaſure invited them to
the feaft. D. S. p. 272, 3.
In all buſineſs relating to his chapter, he purfued their public
intereft with firmness and conftancy. He befides took as much care
to regulate his choir, as if he himself had really fome regard for
mufic. But in this he was always guided by the opinion of thofe
who were ſuppoſed to have been judges of harmony. And that his
choir might do their duty, particularly on Sunday nights, when
variety of the better fort ufually came to hear the anthem, he con-
ftantly went to the church himfelf. This puts me in mind of an
anecdote which happened in thofe times. An idle, careleſs fel-
low, but an excellent finger, and one of the best performers be-
longing
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
cr
fcientious in promoting the members of his choir ac-
cording to their merit, and never advanced any per-
fon to a vicarage who was not qualified in all refpects
and in the highest degree, whatever their intereft, or
however recommended; and he once refuſed a vi-
carage to a perfon for whom the Lady Carteret was
very importunate; though he declared to her Lady-
fhip, that if it had been in his power to have made
the gentleman a Dean or a Bishop, he would have
obliged her willingly; becaufe, he faid, deaneries
and bishopricks were preferments in which meric
had no concern, though the merit of a vicar would
be brought to the teft every day. Nor would he fuf-
fer one fhilling of the cathedral-money to be aliena -
ed from its proper ufe, even for the purpofe of cha-
nity. When any perfon folicited fuch an alienation,
he uſed to tell them that this money was appropriat-
ed; but, fays he, as you declare the perfon to be
relieved is an object of Chriftian charity, I will give
out of my private purfe any fum proportioned to my
revenue, if you will contribute a fum in the fame
proportion to yours. My deanery is worth feven
hundred pounds, your income is two if you will
give two fhillings, I will give feven, or any larger
fum after the fame rate. [7. R. p. 192.]
:
As to the poor in the liberty of his own cathedral,
they were better regulated than any other in the
kingdom; they were all badged, and were never
found begging out of their diftrict: for thefe he
built and furniſhed a little alms-houfe, being affifted
by fome voluntary contributions; and preferved a-
mong them uncommon cleanlinefs and decency, by
conftantly vifiting them in perfon. [J. R. p. 8.]
e s
It
longing to his cathedral, having laboured for fome time under the
higheſt diſpleaſure of the Dean, was fored to abſent himſelf from
the church, and keep entirely out of his fight. But at last, one
Sunday evening having ventured into the finging loft, full in the
view of the Dean, he began that particular anthem, Whitler ſhall
I go, whither fall I go, whither fall I fly, frem thy prefence? "To
jail, you dog you, to jail,” ſaid the Doctor, in a voice loud enough
to be heard by many that were about him. But the next morning
he forgave the poor finner, on his promife of arcndment P. S.
#.37 1.
cvi
AN ACCOUNT OF
It has already been remarked, that though he did
not himſelf underſtand muſic, yet he always attend-
ed at the performance of the anthem, that the choir.
might do their duty. But he had another practice
yet more fingular and more uſeful. As foon as the
preacher mounted the pulpit, he pulled out a pencil
and piece of paper, and carefully noted whatever
was wrong, both in the expreffions, and the manner
in which they were delivered, whether they were
too fcholaftic to be generally understood, or fo coarfe
and vulgar as to lofe their dignity; and he never
failed to make thefe the fubject of an admonition to
the preacher as foon as he came into the chapter-
houſe. [See letter to a young clergyman, in vol. 7. p.
171.]
He improved even his living of Laracor, though
he continued there but a fhort time, and left both
the houſe and glebe a convenient and agreeable re-
treat to his fucceffor at a confiderable expence, for
which he knew no return would be made to his exe-
cutcts; and he determined to affert his right of ab-
fence againſt the Archbishop of Dublin, at the ex-
pence of feveral hundred pounds, at a time when he
did not believe he ſhould ever more claim the
privilege for himſelf, becauſe he would not endan-
ger the liberty of his fucceffor by an injurious prece-
dent.
There is no act of virtue which men have fo often
ſubſtituted for the peculiar pofitive duties of Chrifti-
ans as liberality to the poor, nor any by which they
have ſo often hoped to atone for the breach of every
other moral obligation.
But the Dean, though he abounded in charity,
was not lefs diligent in the practice of other virtues,
or lefs devout and conftant in the folemnities of reli-
gion. He was remarkably temperate both in eating
and drinking; he was not only juft, but punctual in
his dealings, and he had an inviolable regard for
truth. As he conftantly attended divine worship
when he was at home, fo he uſed always to go early
to church when he was in Londo and never to
n;
Aleep,
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
cvii
leep, without affembling his family in his own
chamber to prayers.
It has often been remarked, that virtue in excefs
becomes vitious; and not only precludes the reward
of the poffeffor, but produces rather mifchief than
good to others. An abhorrence of hypocrify was a
ftriking particular in Swift's character: but it is di-
ficult to determine whether it was more a virtue than
a vice; for it brought upon him the charge of irre-
ligion, and encouraged others to be irreligious. In
proportion as he abhorred hypocrify, he dreaded the
imputation of it, and therefore concealed his picty
with as much diligence as others conceal thofe vices
which cuſtom has not made reputable. His conſtant
altendance at curch, when he was at the deanery,
he knew would be confidered as the duty of his fta-
tion; but whatever had the appearance of voluntary
devotion, he always took care to hide. When he
went to church in London, it was early in the morn-
ing; fo that, though he was conftantly at prayers,
and at the facrament, yet he appeared to neglect
both, as he was at home when others were at church,
And when he went to prayers in his family, the fer-
vants affembled at the appointed hour as it were by
tealth, without any notice from a bell, or any other
call, except the ftriking of the clock; fo that Dr.
Delany was fix months in his family before he fuf-
pected him of this unfafhionable practice. The fame
principle upon which he thus ftudiouſly avoided the
appearances of good, made him frequently incur the
appearances of evil, efpecially when an opportunity of-
fered of indulging his peculiar vein of humour, and
gratifying his natural difpofition. One inftance of
this has already been given, in his folemn addrefs to
his clerk from the defk by the name of Roger, [above
p. xxxv;] but there are others which are lefs excu-
fable. Soon after he was made Dean of St. Patrick's,
he had dined one Sunday with Dr. Raymond, vicar
of Trim, a little town near Dublin. When the bell
had rung, the people were affembled to even ng
prayers; and Dr. Raymond was preparing to go to
the church, which was not diftant more than two
Lundred
cviii
AN ACCOUNT OF
"
hundred yards: "Raymond," faid the Dean, "I
"will lay you a crown that I begin prayers before
you this afternoon:" Dr. Raymond accepted the
wager; and immediately both ran as fast as they
could towards the church. Raymond, who was
much nimbler than Swift, arrived firft at the door:
and when he entered the church, walked decently
towards the reading-defk. Swift never flackened his
pace, but, running up the ifle, left Dr. Raymond be-
hind him in the middle of it, and ſtepping into the
deſk, without puting on a furplice, or opening the
prayer-book, began the fervice in an audible voice,
and thus won his wager. [O. let. 16.].
H
It has been common among the pretenders to wit,
to affect great contempt for every kind of regularity;
to live, or pretend to live, in a ftate of continual
diffipation, without regard to the return of thoſe
feafons which have been generally allotted to parti-
cular purpoſes, without fleeping or waking, or eat-
ing or drinking, like the reft of mankind. To reco-
ver thefe unhappy wretches from a condition ſo de-
plorable as to fupprefs indignation, and yet fo con-
temptible as fcarce to excite pity, it is here record-
ed, that the life of Swift was in the highest degree
uniform and regular; his hours of walking and
reading, of exerciſe and amuſement, never varied
and that he might keep the revolution of his em-
ployment's with greater exactnefs, his watch was al-
moft conftantly either in his hand, or on the table
before him.
;
As his abhorrence of hypocrify exempted him from
affectation, the natural equity of his mind fecured
him against envy. Envy feems to be a defire of
equality, gratified by degrading others; as emula-
tion is a defire of equality, gratified by advancing
ourfelves. It does not appear that Swift, upon a
fuppofition that he had no fuperior, was without
emulation; but by his ready affiftance to advance
the reputation and circunftances of others, he ap-
pears to have been free from envy.
He cultivated genius where-ever he found it, and
in whatever degree, with great zeal and affiduity,
and
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT.
cix
and would carefully ſpend much time in correcting
and improving any literary compofition that had the
leaft appearance of ingenuity. Nor was this kind-
nefs confined to thoſe whofe parts could never come
in competition with his own. He started many hints
to Mr. Gay, which he purfued with great fuccefs;
and he recommended Congreve, Addifon, Parnel,
and many others, to thofe whofe favour was moſt
likely to render them confpicuous.
Among his fingularities, were his refolution never
to wear ſpectacles; and his obftinate prefeverance
in the uſe of too much exercife. His want of spec-
tacles made it difficult to read, and his immoderate
exerciſe waſted his flesh, and produced a poornefs in
his blood, as he was often told by his friends and
phyficians. Dr. Helfham and Dr. Grattan, and as
afterwards appeared by experiment; for when he
was reduced to a ftate of idiotifm, and ceafed from
walking, he recovered his flesh in a fhort time.
He was cleanly even to fuperftition; his nails
were always pared to the quick, to prevent the leaft
gathering of dirt under them; and he never dreffed
without a bafon of water by him, with which he
carefully cleanfed his feet. In his perfon he was ro-
buſt and maſculine, his deportment was command-
ing, and his walk erect. His voice was fharp and
high-toned, especially when he read prayers, but
not effeminate; and there was a natural feverity in
his afpect, which even his fmiles could ſcarce foften,
nor his utmoſt gaiety relax. [O. let. 9.]
His manner was without ceremony, but not ruf-
tic;
for he had a perfect knowledge of all the modes
and variations of politenefs and complaifance, which
he practifed in a manner peculiar to himfelf; and the
respect that was due to him by thefe rules, he took
care to exact without the leaft abatement. [D. S.
p. 360, 65.]
It will readily be admitted, that every man has
fome appetite, affection, or difpofition, which ei-
ther in kind or in degree is irregular, and which it
is the province of reafon to order and reftrain. As it
will
CX
AN ACCOUNT OF
will always happen, that in fome inftances paflion
will predominate, and reafon in others, it follows,
that there muſt be fome diffimilitude in every cha-
racter; from which Swift's could not therefore be
exempt but, upon the whole, it will be found un-
commonly ſteady and uniform; though fome, to
fcreen their own fcattered and inconfiftent reprefenta-
tions of it from cenfure, have pretended, that it was
capricious, various, and contradictory.
Swift appears to have been naturally temperate
and chaſte, it was therefore eafy for him to be fru-
gal; but he was alfo naturally high-fpirited: and
therefore, as wealth is the pledge of independence,
it is not ftrange his frugality fhould verge towards
excefs. However, as he acted upon principles, not
only of general virtue, but of the nobleft mora!
fyftem of Christianity, he did not deliver himfelf up
to natural propenfities, when they were contrary to
his duty; and therefore his love of money did not
contract his charity to the poor, or defraud his fuc-
ceffors to enrich bimfelf. The fame fpirit which fe-
cured his integrity, by difdaining the meanness of a
lie, produced that dread of hypocrify which con-
cealed his piety, and betrayed him into appearances
of evil and the fame want of natural tendernefs,
which made him appear obdurate and auftere, rranf-
ferred the diftribution of his liberality from inftinct
to religion, and made that, which in others is an ex-
ercife of felf love, in him an act of obedience to
God.
:
Such was Dr. Jonathan Swift, whofe writings ei-
ther ftimulate mankind to fuftain their dignity as ra-
tional and moral beings, by fhewing how low they
ftand in mere animal nature; or fright them from
indecency, by holding up its picture before them in
its native deformity: and whofe life, with all the
advantages of genius and learning, was a fcale of
infelicity gradually afcending, till pain and anguiſh
destroyed the faculties by which they were felt :
while he was viewed at a distance with envy, he
became a burthen to himſelf; he was forfaken by his
friends,
THE LIFE OF DR. SWIFT. cxi
friends, and his memory has been loaded with un-
merited reproach: his life therefore does not afford
lefs inftruction than his writings, fince to the wife it
may teach humility, and to the fimple content.
Some particulars in Dr. SWIFT'S CHARAC-
TER, extracted from Lord ORRERY'S
Remarks, and Mr. SWIFT's Eſſay.
D
From LORD ORRER Y.
R. Swift was in the decline of life when I
knew him. His friendship was an honour to
ne; and, to fay the truth, I have even drawn ad-
vantage from his errors. I have beheld him in all
humours and difpofitions; and I have formed vari-
ous fpeculations from the feveral weakneſſes to
which I obferved him liable. His capacity and
trength of mind were undoubtedly equal to any
taſk whatever. His pride, his fpirit, or his ambi-
tion, call it by what name you pleafe, was bound-
lefs: but his views were checked in his younger
years, and the anxiety of that difappointment had a
visible effect upon all his actions. He was four and
fevere, but not abfolutely ill-natured. He was fo-
ciable only to particular friends, and to them only
at particular hours. He knew politenefs more than
he practifed it. He was a mixture of avarice and
generofity: the former was frequently prevalent;
the latter feldom appeared, unless excited by com-
paſſion. He was open to adulation; and could not
or would not diftinguish between low flattery and
juſt applauſe. His abilities rendered him fuperior
to envy. He was undifguifed, and perfectly fincere.
I am induced to think, that he entered into orders,
more from fome private and fixed refolution, than
from abfolute choice. Be that as it may, he per-
formed the duties of the church with great pun&tua-
lity, and a decent degree of devotion. He read
prayers rather in a strong nervous voice, than in a
graceful manner and although he has been often
accuſed of irreligion, nothing of that kind appeared
in
cxii
CHARACTERS OF DR. SWIFT.
in his converfation or behaviour. His caſt of mind
induced him to think and ſpeak more of politics than
of religion. His perpetual views were directed to-
wards power; and his chief aim was to be removed
into England but when he found himſelf entirely
difappointed, he turned his thoughts to oppofition,
and became the patron of Ireland.
:
Few characters have afforded fo great a variety of
faults and beauties. Few men have been more
known and admired, or more envied and cenſured,
than Dr. Swift. From the gifts of nature he had
great powers, and from the imperfection of huma-
nity he had many failings. I always confidered him
as an abftract and brief chronicle of the times; no man
being better acquainted with human nature, both
in the highest and in the loweft fcenes of life. His
friends and correfpondents were the greatest and most
eminent men of the age. The fages of antiquity
were often the companions of his clofet: and al-
though he induftrionfly avoided an oftentation of
learning, and gencrally chofe to draw his materials
from his own flore; yet his knowledge in the an-
cient authors evidently appears from the ftrength of
his fentiments, and the claffic correctnefs of his
ftyle.
His attendance upon the public ſervice of the
church was regular and uninterrupted. And indeed.
regularity was peculiar to him in all his actions, even
in the greatest trifles. His hours of walking and
reading never varied. His motions were guided by
his watch, which was fo conftantly held in his hand,
or placed before him upon his table, that he feldom
deviated many minutes, in the daily revolution of
his exercifes and employments.
From Mr. DEANE SWIFT.
The character of Dr. Swift is fo exceedingly
ftrange, various, and perplexed, that it can never
be drawn up with any degree of accuracy. I fhall,
however, remark fome few particulars, without ven-
turing to attempt the delineation of a character,
which
CHARACTERS OF DR. SWIFT.
cxiii
which hath entirely baffled all endeavours hitherto
made, either by friends or enemies.
Swift's natural temper feems to have been a mira-
culous compound of the placid and the fevere. The
placid frequently had the fuperiority in his breaft ;
and the fevere in its turn, when excited by the fol-
lies and corruptions of human kind, as frequently,
the predominance.
He was by nature of a fpirit wonderfully exalted.
His pride, if pride it must be called, was of a turn
peculiar to himself. His whole deportment was of a
piece. He would not have ftooped to converfe with
the greatest monarch in Europe, upon any terms
lower than equality.
He knew to a point the refpect that was due to
him which he took care to exact without any fort
of abatements. It will appear from the following
inftance, with what quicknefs he refented any fai-
lure in good manners. An English clergyman, ap-
pointed a Bishop in Ireland, fent his fervant one
morning to the Dean, to beg the favour of him to
order St. Patrick's cathedral to be got ready againft
the next Sunday for his confecration. The Doctor
would by no means grant his requeft; but faid, he
would order the church to be in readineſs againſt
the Sunday following. When the fervant was gone,
the Doctor told a friend, then with him, that he
could as well have had the church ready againſt
the next, as against the following Sunday: but, faid
he, my reafon for refufing to grant that gentleman's
request was, becauſe he ought to have come him-
ſelf, and not ſent his fervant to me upon fuch a
meffage.
Neither could he endure to be treated with any
fort of familiarity, or that any man living (his three
or four old acquaintances in England only excepted)
thould rank himſelf in the number of his friends. A
young perfon of quality, upon fome occafion or other,
once ventured to addrefs Dr. Swift in the ftyle of
Dear Swift, and call himſelf the Doctor's friend.
When the Dean opened his letter which was de-
figned as a compliment, his indignation took inftant
fire.
cxiv
CHARACTERS OF DR. SWIFT.
pa-
fire. Dear Swift! faid he; what monftrous famili
arity is here! But when he found the letter writer
had called himſelf his friend, he was out of all
tience. "My friend! my friend!" ſaid he; "pifh,
"pha; my friend! But-" (faid he, recollecting
himſelf)—“ he is a Lord, and fo let it pafs."
Swift's fpirit was formed with a strong reluctance
to fubmiſſion of any kind, and particularly he paid
no regard to the monitions of his friends and phyfi-
cians, who had frequently admonished him of his
over-exercife. This was not owing to his being
weary of life. It was from an old fettled principle,
confirmed and rivetted in his mind, when he was in
the height of his glory, and the meridian of his life:
A principle indeed, which he maintains, or at leaſt
endeavours to maintain, with infinite wit and hu-
mour, in a letter to Mrs. Johnfon, Nov. 3, 1711,
who had adviſed him to take phyfic upon the fall of
the leaf."A
"A fig," (faith he) "Madam, for your
phyfic. If I grow worfe, I will; otherwife I will
"trust to temperance and exercife. Your fall of a
"leaf? What care I when the leaves fall? I am
forry to fee them fall with all my heart; but why
fhould I take phyfic becaufe leaves fall off from
trees? That won't hinder them from falling. If
a man falls off a horſe, muft I take phyfic for that?
This arguing makes you mad; but it is true right.
reaſon, not to be difputed."
He was not only above all tincture of envy in his
compofition; but his talents were fo great, that he
was totally fuperior to the emulation of all inferior
wits. They every one of them bowed down to him
as to the viceroy of Apollo.
The dæmon of malice was alfo a ſtranger to his
heart and well it might; for if at any time he was
attacked with injurious treatment, he never fmo-
thered his revenge, like a way-laying coward, until
a fafer opportunity; but, like a brave and generous
fpirit, knocked down his adverfary directly on the
fpot.
The common vices and foibles of human-kind he
laſhed with great feverity, in order to reſtrain their
influence,
CHARACTERS OF DR. SWIFT.
CXV
influence, and, if it were poffible, to hinder the
contagion from fpreading in the community; yet
ftill without making examples of particular perfons.
But flaves to party, and traitors to the public intereſt,
he expofed without mercy to the derifion of the
world. It may be thought perhaps that private ani-
mofity frequently gave an edge to his fatire. I can-
not tell but in fome cafes it might. But then it
ſhould be confidered, that Dr. Swift never looked
upon himſelf in the character of a private perfon.
He knew that a patriot, like an Afiatic prince, muft
make himſelf dreaded. If he be once foiled, his
power is at end. And, without controverfy, domi-
nior, abfolute dominion, he had refolved to poffefs
over the minds of men, efpecially over the minds of
his countrymen; and accordingly he did poffefs it.
Swift was certainly a man of great ambition,
though he denies it in his writings. But his ambi-
tion, ever directed by the rules of honour, was of a
noble, exalted ſtrain, worthy to be cheriſhed in the
breaſt of an angel.
In his private character he was a man of fine ad-
drefs, and perfectly well bred. He knew to a point
all the modes and variations of complaifance and po-
litenefs. And yet his manners were not framed like
thofe of any other mortal; but, corrected by gene-
ral obfervation, and adapted to his own peculiar
turn of genius, they fhone forth, always enlivened
more or lefs with fome fpirit of dominion, in a blaze
of politenefs, fo inimitably, and fo determinately in
his own, that in effect they feemed to be the reſult
of pure nature, uncopied from any the brighteſt or
the faireft original.
Swift talked a great deal in all companies, with-
out ingroffing the converfation to himfelf, [above, p.
xcvi.] In the character of a tete à tete companion, he
rather excelled himſelf. Few that are equal to him
in that refpect, perhaps none that are his fuperiors,
can be found upon earth. He was by no means in
the claſs with thoſe who pour down their eloquence
like a torrent, driving all before it. Far from any
defires of that fort, he equally loved to fpeak, and
loved
cxvi CHARACTERS OF DR. SWIFT.
loved to hearken. Like Falſtaff, he not only had wit
himfelf, but frequently was the caufe of wit in
others. However, that univerfal reverence which
was paid to his great abilities, frequently ftruck a
damp on the fpirits of thofe who were not perfectly
well acquainted with him: an effect of modesty,
which however did not always happen to be con-
ftrued to their advantage, unlefs in the cafe of very
young people. For when fuch perfons were gone, if
none but his intimates were prefent, he would ex-
prefs himſelf with fome degree of emotion, and cry,
Such a one, I have heard, is a very great man; or,
Such a cne, they fay, has abundance of learning;
or, Such a one, I have been told, has an excellent
underſtanding; but God deliver me from fuch com-
panions!
If we confider Swift as a divine and a chriftian,
we ſhall find him, although not fo grave, yet at leaſt
as perfect, as the most famous of his contemporaries.
His first fetting out in the world may be thought
fomewhat fingular, in this profane, hypocritical, cor-
rupted age. We are affured from his own accounts,
that his ideas of religion were fo extremely delicate,
that he could not but entertain fome fcruple, not-
withstanding his fortune was very ſmall, of entering
into the church merely for fupport; although it is
plain, that he had early feparated himſelf to the
work of the miniftry. He was of a genius thorough-
ly well adapted for the improvement of any congre-
gation whatever, his arguiments being always clear,
cogent, and fatisfactory. But furely thofe improved,
extenfive abilities, which rendered him at once the
delight and the admiration of the world, were never
defigned by his Creator to be confined within the
narrow limits of any parifh or diocefe.
In his private character as a man of religion, he
appears to have been a great and fhining example of
Christian faith and morals. In himfelf, he was chaste,
fober, and temperate. I remember he once told me
occafionally, that he never had been drunk in his
life. In his general behaviour, he was open, free,
difengaged, and cheerful. In his dealings with the
world,
CHARACTERS OF DR. SWIFT. cxvii
world, he was honeft and fincere. In relieving the
poor and the diftreffed, he was liberal to profufion;
if denying himſelf, and throwing upon the waters
above a third part of his income, will intitle him to
the character of being exceedingly generous. With
regard to his faith, he was truly orthodox. More-
over, he was regular, exceedingly regular, in all his
duties to God, especially in attending the public
worship; yet ftill without any parade, or colour of
oftentation. But to crown his whole character as a
man of religion, and to fhew how much he deteſted
that fatanical vice of hypocrify, I fhall tranfcribe a
paragraph from a fermon of his, not yet publiſhed,
On the excellency of the Chriftian religion, oppofed to Hea-
then philofophy. "Chriftian wiſdom (faith he) is
without partiality. It is not calculated for this or
that nation or people, but the whole race of man-
kind; not to the philofophical fchemes, which
were narrow and confined, adapted to their pecu-
"liar towns, governments, or fects; but in every
"nation, he that feareth God, and worketh righ-
مام
teouſneſs, is accepted with him. Laftly, It is
"without hypocrify: It appears to be what it really
is; it is all of a piece. By the doctrines of the
"the gofpel, we are fo far from being allowed to
publiſh to the world thofe virtues we have not,
that we are commanded to hide even from our-
"felves thoſe we really have, and not to let our
right hand know what our left hand does; unlike
"feveral branches of the Heathen wifdom, which
pretended to teach infenfibility and indiffer-
ence, magnanimity and contempt of life, while
at the fame time in other parts it belied its own
doctrines."
·
Several other particulars in Swift's character,
and various anecdotes concerning him, will be found
in the notes throughout all the firft eight volumes of
this work, particularly in the Criticiims prefixed to
vols. 1. and 6.
Some
cxviii
Some particulars concerning Dr. SWIFT.
Taken from Mrs. PILKINGTON'S Memoirs.
MRS
RS Pilkington's acquaintance with Dr. Swift
commenced from ſending him the lines on his
birth-day, vol. 7. p. 162. Theſe the Dean received
very kindly, and faid, he would fee her whenever
the pleaſed.
A few days after, fhe was introduced to the Dean
in Dr. Delany's garden at Delville, by a gentlewo-
man. He faluted her, and aſked the lady, if fhe
was her daughter? The lady fmiled, and faid, fhe
was Mrs. Pilkington. "What," fays he,
this
ry.
poor little child married! God help her, fhe is
early engaged to trouble." The Dean engaging
Mr. Pilkington to preach for him at the cathedral
next Sunday, invited her, with the reft of the com-
pany, to dinner.
As the communion is adminiftered
every Sunday in St. Patrick's church, Mrs. Pilking-
ton was charmed to fee with what a becoming piety
the Dean performed that holy fervice, which he had
fo much at heart, that he wanted not the affiftance
of the liturgy, but went quite through it without
ever looking in the book. He bowed at the table;
which behaviour was cenfured, as favouring of Pope-
But this circumftance may vindicate him from
the wicked afperfion cf being deemed an unbeliever,
fince it is plain he had the utmoft reverence for the
eucharift. Service being ended, the Dean was fur-
rounded at the church-door, by a croud of poor
all of whom he gave charity, except an old woman,
who held out a very dirty hand to him. He told her,
very gravely, That though fhe was a beggar, water
was not fo fcarce but he might have washed her
hands. When they came to the deanery, the Dean
kindly faluted Mrs. Pilkington, and, without allowing
her time to fit down, bade her come and fee his l-
brary; but merrily told Mr. Pilkington, who was for
following them, that he did not defire his con pany.
to
"Well,"
ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT.
cxix
"
Well," faid he to her, "I have brought you here
to fhew you all the money I got when I was in the
miniftry; but don't steal any of it."
"I won't
indeed, Sir" faid fhe. So opening a cabinet, he
ſhewed her a parcel of empty drawers: "Blefs me,"
fays he, "the money is flown." He then opened
his bureau, wherein he had a great number of curi-
ous trinkets of various kinds, fome of which were
preſented to him by the Earl and Countefs of Ox-
ford, Lady Maſham, and Lady Betty Germain. At
laft coming to a drawer filled with medals, he bade
her chufe two for herſelf; but he could not help
fmiling, when she began to poize them in her hands,
chuling them by weight rather than antiquity.
At dinner the Dean's behaviour was very humo-
rous. He placed himſelf at the head of his table,
oppofite to a great pier glafs, fo that he could fee in
the glaſs whatever the fervants did behind him. He
was ferved entirely in plate, with great elegance.
But the beef being over-roafted, put the company all
in confufion. The Dean called for the cook-maid,
and ordered her to take the beef down ftairs, and do
it lefs. She anſwered, very innocently, that the
could not. Why, what fort of a creature are you,"
fays he, to commit a fault which cannot be
<<
amended?" And turning to Mrs. Pilkington, he
faid very gravely, "That he hoped, as the cook
was a woman of genius, he fhould, by this man-
ner of arguing, be able in about a year's time to
convince her he had better fend up the meat too
"little than too much done;" charging the men
fervants, whenever they imagined the meat was
ready, they fhould take it fpit and all, and bring it
up by force, promifing to aid them in cafe the cook
refifted. Then turning his eye on the looking-glais,
he efpied the butler cpening a bottle of ale and
helping himself to the firft glais, he very kindly jumb-
led the reft together, that his matter and guests
might all fare alike. "Ha! friend," faid the Dean,
Sharp's the word, I find; you drank my ale, for
which I ftop two fhillings of your board-wages
this
cxx ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT
"this week; for I fcorn to be outdone in any thing,
"even in cheating.
Dinner being ended, the Dean thanked Mr. Pilk-
ington for his fermon: "Inever," ſaid he, "preach-
"ed but twice in my life, and then they were not
"fermons, but pamphlets." Mrs. Pilkington aſked
him, what might be the fubject of them? He told
her, they were againſt Wood's halfpence. Having
aſked Mr. and Mrs. Pilkington if they could ſmoke?
and being anſwered, that they did not; "'Tis a
fign," faid he, "you were neither of you bred in
the university of Oxford; for drinking and fimok-
ing are the first rudiments of learning taught
"there; and in thofe two arts no univerfity in
"Europe can outdo them." Having aſked Mrs.
Pilkington, if he had any faults? Pray, Mr.
Dean," faid Dr. Delany, why will you be ſo un-
.<
polite as to ſuppoſe Mrs. Pilkington has any faults?”
"I'll tell you," replied the Dean; "whenever I
"ſee a number of agreeable qualities in any perfon,
"I am always fure they have bad ones fufficient to
poize the fcale." Mrs. Pilkington bowed, and
told him, he did her great honour; in that copying
Bishop Berkeley, whom he had frequently heard
declare, That when ary fpeech was made to him,
which might be conftrued either into a compliment
or an affront, or that had two handles, he always
took hold of the beſt.
"A
"Why
The Dean then aſked Mrs. Pilkington, if he were
a Queen, what ſhe would chufe to have after din-
ner? She anſwered, "Your converfation, Sir,"
"Pooh! faid, he, “I mean, what regale.
"difh of coffee, Sir," anfwered the.
"then," faid he,
"I will fo far make you as hap-
py as a Queen; you fhall have fome in perfection:
"for when I was chaplain to the Earl of Berkeley,
"who was in the government here, I was fo poor,
"I was obliged to keep a coffee-houfe, and all the
nobility reforted to it to talk treafon." The Dean
then fet about making the coffee: but the fire
fcorching his hand, he called to Mrs. Pilkington to
reach him his glove; and changing the coffee pot to
his
BY MRS. PILKINGTON.
сххі
his left hand, held out his right one, ordering her to
put the glove on it; which accordingly he did;
when taking up part of his gown to fan himſelf
with, and acting in character of a prudish lady, he
faid, Well, I don't know what to think: women
may be honeſt that do fuch things; but, for my
pait, I never could bear to touch any man's flefli
-except my husband's; whom, perhaps," (faid
he,) the wished at the devil.”
66
་་
Mr. Pilkington," faid he,
you would not tell
me your wife's faults; but I have found her out
"to be a d-n'd, infolent, proud, unmannerly flut."
"What has the done now "faid Mr. Pilkington.
't
Done," faid the Dean; "why nothing, but fat
"there quietly, and never once offered to inter-
rupt me in making the coffee; whereas a lady of
"modern good breeding would have ftruggled with
me for the coffee-pot, till fhe had made me fcald
myſelf and her, and make me throw the coffee in
"the fire, or perhaps at her head, rather than permit
me to take to much trouble for her."
Mrs. Pilkington flaid at home with the Dean
during the time of the afternoon's fervice; and he
made her read his hiflory of the four last years of
Q. Anne, afking her at the conclufion of every peri-
od, whether the understood it?
for I would,
faid he, have it intelligible to the meanest capa-
city; and if you comprehend it, 'tis poffible every
body may.
''
She accompanied the Dean to evening-prayer;
and on their return to the deanery, he told Mr. and
Mrs. Pilkington, that he gave them leave to ftay to
fupper; which from him was a ſufficient invitation.
The Dean then decanted a bottle of wine; and the
laft glafs being muddy, he called to Mr. Pilkington
to drink it; for," fays he, "I always keep fome
poor parfon to drink the foul wine for me."
Pilkington entering into his humour, thanked
him, and told him, he did not know the difference,
but was glad to get a glafs at any rate. Why
then," faid the Dean, you fhan't; for I'll drink
"it myſelf. Why p-x take you, you are wifer
VOL. I.
"than
f
Mr.
cxxii ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT
t
than a paltry curate whom I aſked to dine with me
a few days ago; for upon my making the fame
fpeech to him, he told me he did not underſtand
* fuch ufage; and fo walked off without his dinner.
By the fame token, I told the gentleman who re- ·
commended him to me, that the fellow was a
blockhead, and I had done with him."
{
The Dean then milling his golden bottle-fcrew,
told Mrs. Pilkington very iternly, he was fure fhe had
tolen it. She affirmed very ferioutly, fhe had not.
Upon which he looked for it, and found it where he
hintelf had laid it: "Tis well for you," faid
he, "that I have got it, or I would have charged
you with theft."
"Why, pray, Sir," faid he,
"fhould I be fufpected more than any other perion
"in the company?" "For a very good reafon,"
faid he, "becauſe you are the pooreft."
At their going away, the Dean handed Mrs. Pilk-
ington down all the fteps to the coach, thanking
them for the honour of their company, at the fame
time flipping into her hand as much money as Mr.
Pilkington and he had given at the offering in the
morning, and coachhire alfo; which the durſt not
refufe, left the fhould have been deemed as great a
blockhead as the parfon who refufed the thick wine,
<<
*
In one of the Dean's periodical fits of deafnefs, he
fent for Mrs. Pilkington; who having come, he
brought out to her a large book, finely bound in
turkey leather, and handfomely gilt: This," faid
he, is a tranflation of the epiftles of Horace, a pre-
"fent to me from the author; 'tis a fpecial good
.cover; but I have a mind there fhould be fome-
thing valuable within fide of it." So, taking out
his penknife, he cut out all the leaves clofe to the
inner margin. Now," faid he,
I will give
"theſe what they greatly want ;" and put them all
into the fire. "Your talk, Madam, is to pafte in
thefe letters, in this cover, in the order I fhall
"give them to you: I intended to do it myſelf, but
that I thought it might be a pretty amufement for
a child; fo I fent for you." She told him, the
was extremely proud to be honoured with his com-
mands;
(C
3
BY MRS. PILKINGTON.
CXX14
CC
L.L
mands-; but requested to have leave to read the let--
ters as ſhe went on. Why," faid the Dean,
provided you will acknowledge yourſelf amply re-
"warded for your trouble, I don't much care if I
indulge you fo far."
In reading the letters, fhe could not avoid re-
marking to the Dean, that, notwithstanding the
friendship Mr. Pope profeffed for Mr. Gay, he could
not forbear a great many fatirical, or, if the might
be allowed to fay fo, envious remarks on the fuccefs
of the Beggar's Opera. The Dean very frankly own-
ed, he did not think Mr. Pope was fo candid to the
merit of other writers as he ought to be. She then
ventured to afk the Dean, whether he thought the
lines Mr. Pope addreffes him with in the beginning
of the Dunciad, were any compliment to him, viz.
O thou! whatever title pleaſe thine ear.
"I believe," faid he," they were meant as fuch,.
"but they are very ftiff." Indeed, Sir," ſaid
fhe, "he is fo perfectly a mafter of harmonious num--
bers, that, had his heart been the least affected
with his fubject, he muſt have writ better.
C.C
'
How
cold, how forced, are his lines to you, compared.
with yours to him!
;
‹ PIL
and
Hail, happy. Pope! whofe gen'rous mind, &c.
vol. 6. p. 325-
"Here we fee the mafterly poet, and the warm,
finceré, generous friend while he, according to
"the character he gives of Mr. Addifon, damns with
faint praife."—"Well," replied the Dean,
"thew you a late letter of his." He did fo
Mrs. Pilkington was furpriſed to find it filled with
low and ungentleman-like reflections, both on Mr.
Gay, and the two noble perions who honoured him
with their patronage after his difappointment at
court.. "Well, madam," faid the Dean, "what
"do you think of that letter?" (feeing the had
gone quite through it.) "Indeed, Sir," (re-
plied fhe), "I am forry I have read it; for it gives
me reaſon to think there is no fuch thing as a fin-
RE
cere
€
cxxiv
ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT
"cere friend to be met with in the world.”
Why," replied he, "authors are as jealous of
"their prerogative as kings; and can no more bear
a rival in the empire of wit, than a monarch
"could in his dominions." Mrs. Pilkington then
cbferving a Latin fentence writ in Italics, defired
the Dean to explain it. "No," replied he, fmil
ing, "I'll leave that for your hufband to do. I'll
fend for him to dine with us, and in the mean
time we'll go and take a walk in Naboth's vine-
yard.' "Where may that be, pray, Sir?" faid
fie. Why, a garden," faid the Dean, "I cheat-
">
ed one of my neighbours out of." When they
entered the garden, or rather the field, which was
fquare, and incloſed with a ftone wall, the Dean
aſked her how he liked it? Why, pray, Sir,"
faid the, "where is the garden?" "Look behind
you,"
"faid he. She did fo; and obferved the
fouth wall was lined with brick, and a great number
of fruit trees planted againſt it, which being then in
bloffom, looked very beautiful.
What are you fo
"intent on ?" faid the
"The opening
Dean.
"bloom,” replied the; which brought Waller's
lines to her remembrance.
Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime.
"Oh !" replied he " you are in a poetical vein; I
"thought you had been taking notice of my wall.
"'Tis the beft in Ireland. When the mafons were
building it, (as mòft tradefmen are rogues), I
"watched them very clofe, and as often as they
"could, they put in a rotten ftone; of which how-
"ever I took no notice, till they had built three or
"four perches beyond it. Now, as I am an abſo-
"lute monarch in the liberties, and king of the mob,
my way with them was, to have the wall thrown
"down to the place where I obferved the rotten
"ftone; and, by doing fo five or fix times, the
"workmen were at laft convinced it was their in-
"tereft to be honeft:"- "Or elfe, Sir," faid Mrs.
Pilkington, your wall would have been as tedious
"a piece of work as Penelope's web, if all that was
"done
BY MRS. PILKINGTON.
Chay
done in the day was to be undone at night."
"Well," anſwered the Dean, "I find you have
poetry for every occafion; but as you cannot keep
pace with me in walking, I would have you fit
"down on that little bank, till you are refted, or I
"tired, to put us more upon a par."
She feated herſelf, and away the Dean walked,
or rather trotted as hard as ever he could drive. She
could not help fmiling at his odd gait; for fhe
thought to herſelf, he had written fo much in praiſe-
of horses, that he was refolved to imitate them as
nearly as he could.. As ſhe was indulging this fan-
cy, the Dean returned to her, and gave her a ftrọng
confirmation of his partiality to thoſe animals. “
C *
I
have been confidering, Madam, as I walked"
faid he, "what a fool Mr. Pilkington was to marry
you; for he could have afforded to keep a horfe
"for lefs money than you coſt him; and that, you
"muft confefs, would have given him better exer-
"cife and more pleaſure than a wife.
-Why you
laugh, and don't anſwer me-
you are
is not it truth?"
"I muft anſwer you, Sir," replied ſhe, "with
another queſtion: Pray how can a batchelor judge
"of this matter?" "I-find," ſaid he,
"vain enough to give yourſelf the preference."
"I do, Sir," replied fhe, to that fpecies here; to a:
Houyhnhnm I would, as becomes me, give prefer-
ence. But, Sir, 'tis going to rain."
"I hope.
not, "faid he," for that will coft me fixpence for
"a coach for you," (the garden being at fome dif-
tance from the houſe). Come, hafte; O how the
"tefter trembles in my pocket!" She obeyed; and
they got in a doors juft time enough to eſcape a
heavy thower. "Thank God," faid the Dean, "T·
have faved my money. Here, you fellow," (to
the fervant), carry this fixpence to the lame old
man that fells gingerbread at the corner, becauſe
"he tries to do fomething, and does not beg,'
>>
Mrs. Pilkington was fhewed into a little ftreet- -
parlour, where was Mrs. Brent, his houfe-keeper.
Here," fays he, "Mrs. Brent, take care of this
"child, while I take my walk out within. doors.”
f 3
The.
CRV
ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT
}
The Dean then ran up the great ftairs, down one
pair of back-ftairs, up another, in fo violent a man-
ner, that Mrs. Pilkington could not help expreffing
her uneafinefs to Mrs. Brent, left he fhould fall,
and be hurted. Mrs. Brent faid, it was a cuſtomary
exercife with him, when the weather did not per-
mit him to walk abroad.
Mrs. Brent then told Mrs. Pilkington of the Dean's
charity; of his giving above half of his yearly in-
come in private penfions to decayed families; and
keeping 500l. in the conftant fervice of induftrious
poor, which he lent out 51. at a time, and took the
payment back at 1 s. a-week; which, fhe obſerved,
did them more fervice than if he gave it to them en-
tirely, as it obliged them to work, and at the fame
time kept up this charitable fund for the affiftance
of many.
"You cannot imagine," ſaid fhe, "what
numbers of poor tradefinen, who have even want-
"ed proper tools to carry on their work, have, by
"this final loan, been put into a profperous way,
"and brought up their families in credit. The
t t
tr
Dean, added fhe, has found out a new method
"of being charitable, in which, however, I be-
lieve, he will have but few followers; which is,
to debar himſelf of what he calls the fuperfluities
"of life, in order to adminifter to the neceffities of
"the diftreffed. You just now faw an inftance of
it; the money a coach would have coft him, he
gave to a poor man unable to walk. When he
"dines alone, he drinks a pint of beer, and gives
away the price of a pint of wine. And thus he
acts in numberless inftances."
The Dean came to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Pilk-
ington at their Lilliputian palace, as he called it;
and, who could have thought it? he juft looked in-
to the parlour, and ran up into the garret, then into
Mrs. Pilkington's bedchamber and library, and from
thence down to the kitchen; and the houfe being
very clean, he complimented her upon it, and told
her, that was his custom; and that it was from the
cleanlinefs of the garret and kitchen, he judged of
the good houſewifery of the miftrefs of the houfe;
for
BY MRS. PILKINGTON.
cxxvii
for no doubt but a flut would have the room clean
where the guests were to be entertained.
;
He was fometimes very rude, even to his fuperi-
ors of which the following flory related to Mrs.
Pilkington by himſelf, may ferve as one inftance
amongit a thousand others.
The last time he was in London, he went to dine
with the Earl of Burlington, who was then but new-
ly married. The Earl being willing, 'tis fuppoſed,
to have fome diverfion, did not introduce him to his
lady, nor mention his name. It is to be obſerved,
that his gown was generally very rufty, and his per-
fon no way extraordinary. After dinner, faid the
Dean, "Lady Burlington, I hear you can fing; fing
me a fong." The lady looked on this unceremo-
nious manner of cfking a favour with diftate, and
pofitively refuſed him. He faid, the should fing, or
he would make her. Why, Madam, I fuppofe
you take me for one of your poor English hedge
parfons; fing when I bid you." As the Earl did
nothing but laugh at this freedom, the lady was fo
vexed, that the burst into tears, and retired.
His first compliment to her when he faw her again,
was, "Pray, Madani, are you as proud and as ill-
"natured now, as when I faw you lat?" To which
The answered, with great good humour, "No, Mr.
"
Dean; I'll ing for you, if you pleafe." From
which time he conceived great efteem for her. But
who that knew him would take offence at his blunt-
nefs.
Mrs. Pilkington could not recollect that ever fhe
faw the Dean laugh; perhaps he thought it beneath
him; for when any pleafantry paffed which might
have excited it, he ufed to fuck his cheeks to avoid
rifibility He uted frequently to put her in mind of
Shakespear's defcription of Caffius.
He is a great difcerner, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men
Seldom he finiles, and fmiles in fuch a fort
As if he mock'd himſelf, and ſcorn'd his fpirit,
That could be mov'd to fimile at any thing.
Jul. Cafur.
Mrs.
cxxviii ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT.
Mrs. Pilkington believed the Dean's early youth
did not promife that bright day of wit which has
fince enlightened the learned world. Whilft he was
at the univerſity of Dublin, he was fo far from being
diftinguished for any fuperiority of parts or learning,
that he was ſtopped of his degree as a dunce. When
fhe heard the Dean relate this circumftance, fhe told
him, fhe fuppofed he had been idle: but he affirmed
to the contrary, affuring her he was really dull.
Which, if true, is very furpriſing-
tr
"I have," fays fhe, "often been led to look on
"the world as a garden, and the human minds as
"fo many plants, fet by the hand of the great Cre-
"ator for utility and ornament. Thus fome, we ſee,
early produce beautiful bleffoms, and as foon fade
away; others, whofe gems are more flow in un-
folding, but more permanent when blown; and
others again, who, though longer in arriving at
"perfection, not only blefs us then with fhade and
"odour, but alſo with delicious wholeſome fruit."
He was a perpetual friend to merit and learning;
and utterly incapable of envy; for, in true genuine
wit, he could fear no rival.
It has been often obferved, that where great ta-
lents are beſtowed, there the ſtrongeſt paffions are
likewife given. This great man did but too often
let them have dominion over him, and that on the
moft trifling occafions. During meal times he was
evermore in a ftorm; the meat was always too much
or too little done, or the fervants had offended in
fome point, imperceptible to the rest of the company:
however, when the cloth was taken away, he made
his guests rich amends for the pain he had given
them. For then
Was truly mingled in the friendly bowl
The feaſt of reafon, and the flow of foul. Pope.
Yet he preferved ftrict temperance: for he never
drank above half a pint of wine, in every glaſs of
which he mixed water and fugar: yet, if he liked
his company, would fit many hours over it, unlock-.
ing
BY MRS. PILKINGTON.
cxxix
ing all the springs of policy, learning, true humour,
and inimitable wit.
The following story the Dean told to Mrs. Pilk-
ington.
A clergyman, who was a moft learned fine gentle-
man, but, under the fofteft and politeft appearance,
concealed the moſt turbulent ambition, having made
his merit as a preacher too eminent to be overlook-
ed, had it early rewarded with a mitre. Dr. Swift
went to congratulate him on it; but told him, he
hoped, as his Lordship was a native of Ireland, and
had now a feat in the houfe of Peers, he would em-
ploy his powerful elocution in the fervice of his dif-
treffed country. The prelate told him, the bishoprick
was but a very fmall one, and he could not hope for
a better, if he did not oblige the court. Very
well," fays Swift, "then it is to be hoped, when
you have a better, you will become an honest
"man."
Ay, that I will, Mr. Dean," fays he.
"Till then, my Lord, farewel," anfwered Swift.
This prelate was twice tranflated to richer fees; and
on every tranflation, Dr. Swift waited on him to re-
mind him of his promife; but to no purpofe;
there was now an archbishoprick in view, and till
that was obtained, nothing could be done. Having
in a fhort time likewife got this, he then fent for the
Dean, and told him, "I am now at the top of my
4
preferment: for I well know no Irishman will ever
"be made primate; therefore,
therefore, as I can rife no
higher in fortune or ftation, I will zealously pro-
mote the good of my country." And from that
time he commenced a most outrageous patriot.
A CRITICISM
A
CRITICISM
O N
SWIFT'S PROSE WRITINGS.
By the Earl of ORRERY.
F we confider Swift's profe works, we fall find a certain
I matterly concilencis in their ftyle, that hath never been equalled
:
by any other writer. The truth of this affertion will more evi-
dently appear, by comparing him with fome of the authors of his
own time.
Of theſe Dr. Tillotson and Mr. Addifon are to be
numbered among the moft eminent. Addifon hath all the powers
that can captivate and improve his diction is eafy, his periods
are well turned, his expreffions are flowing, and his humour is de-
licate. Tillotfon is nervous, grave, majeftic, and perfpicuous.
We must join both theſe characters together to form a true idea of
Dr. Swift: yet as he outdoes Addiſon in humour, he excels Til-
lotfon in perfpicuity. The Archbishop indeed confined himſelf to
ſubjects relative to his profeffion: but Addiſon and Swift are more
diffufive writers. They continually vary in their manner, and
treat different topics in a different ftyle. When the writings of Ad-
difon terminate in party, he lofes himſelf extremely, and from a
delicate and juft comedian, deviates into one of the loweft kind. *
Not fo Dr. Swift. He appears like a masterly gladiator. He wields
the fword of party with cafe, juftnefs, and dexterity: and while
he entertains the ignorant and the vulgar, he draws an equal at-
tention from the learned and the great. When he is f rious, his
gravity becomes him; when he laughs, his readers must laugh
with him. But what shall be faid for his love of trifles, and his
want of delicacy and decorum? errors, that if he did not contract,
at least he increaſed in Ireland. They are without a parallel, I
hope they will ever remain fo.. The firft of them arofe merely
from his love of flattery, with which he was daily fed in that king-
dom: the fecond proceeded from the mifanthropy of his difpofi-
tion, which induced him peevishly to debafe mankind, and even
to ridicule human nature itſelf. Politics were his favourite to-
pic, as they gave him an opportunity of gratifying his ambition,
and thirst of power: yet in this road he has feldom continued
long in one path. He has written mifcellancoufly, and has choſen
rather to appear a wandering comet, than a fixed ftar. Had he
applied the faculties of his mind to one great and uſeful work, he
muſt have ſhined more gloriously, and uright have enlightened a
whole planetary fyftem in the political world.
* See the papers called the Freeholder.
There
A CRITICISM.
CXXXI
There are fome pieces in his works that I defpife, others that I
loath, but many more that delight and improve me. The former
are not worthy of notice. They are of no further ufe than to
fhew us, in general, the errors of human nature; and to convince
us, that neither the height of wit nor genius can bring a man to
fuch a degree of perfection, as vanity would often prompt him to
believe.
In a difquifition of this fort, I fhall avoid as much as poffible
any annotations upon that kind of fatire in which the Dean in-
dulged himſelf against particular perfons: most of whom it is
probable provoked his rage by their own mifconduct, and confe-
quently owed to their own raſhneſs the wounds which they re-
ceived from his pen. But I have no delight in thofe kinds of
writings, except for the fake of the wit, which either in general
or in particular fatire, is equally to be admired. The edge of wit
will always remain keen, and its blade will be bright and fhining
when the ftone upon which it has been whetted, is worn out, or
thrown afide and forgotten. Perſonal ſatire against evil magiftrates,
corrupt minifiers, and thofe giants of power, who gorge themselves
with the entrails of their country, is different from that perional fa-
tire, which too often proceeds merely from felf-love, or ill-nature.
The one is written in defence of the public, the other in defence
of ourſelves. The one is armed by the fword of juftice, and en-
couraged not only by the voice of the people, but by the principles
of morality; the other is dictated by paffion, fupported by pride
and applauded by flattery. At the fame time that I fay this, I
think every man of wit has a right to laugh at fools, who give of-
fence, or at coxcombs, who are public nuifances. Swift indeed
has left no weapon of farcalm untried, no branch of fatire uncul-
tivated but while he has maintained a perpetual war against the
mighty men in power, he has remained invulnerable, if not vic-
torious.
* See the criticism prefixed to vol. 6.
A TALE OF A TUB.
Written for the univerfal improvement of mankind.
Diu multumque defideratum.
To which are added,
An Account of a BATTLE between the AN-
CIENT and MODERN BOOKS in St. James's
Library; and,
A Difcourfe concerning the MECHANICAL OPE-
RATION of the SPIRIT.
With the Author's APOLOGY; and
Explanatory notes, by W. Wotton, B. D. and others.
Bafyma cacabafa canaa, irraumifta diarbada cocota bafo-
bor camelanthi.
Iren. lib. 1. c. 18.
Juvatque novos decerpere flores,
Infignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam,
Unde prius nulli velarunt tempora mufæ.
IF
The AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.
Lucret.
F good and ill nature equally operated upon man-
kind, I might have faved myſelf the trouble of this
apology; for it is manifett, by the reception the fol-
lowing difcourfe hath met with, that thofe, who approve
it, are a great majority among the men of talte. Yet
there have been two or three treatifes written expreisly
against it, befides many others that have flirted at it oc-
cafionally, without one fyllable having been ever pub-
lifhed in its defence, or even quotation to its advantage,
that I can remember; except by the polite author of a
late difcourfe between a Deift and a Socinian.
Therefore, fince the book feems calculated to live at
leaft as long as our language and our taſte admit no
VOL. I.
B
great
2
A TALE OF A TUB.
great alterations, I am content to convey fome apology
along with it.
The greateſt part of that book was finiſhed about
thirteen years fince, 1696; which is eight years before
it was publiſhed. The author was then young, his in -
vention at the height, and his reading freſh in his head.
By the affiftance of fome thinking, and much converfa-
tion, he had endeavoured to ftrip himſelf of as many
real prejudices as he could I fay real ones; becauſe,
under the notion of prejudices, he knew to what dan-
gerous heights fome men have procceded. Thus pre-
pared, he thought the numerous and grofs corruptions
in religion and learning might furnish matter for a fa-
tire, that would be uſeful and diverting. He refolved to
proceed in a manner that ſhould be altogether new; the
world having been already too long naufeated withend-
lefs repetitions upon every fubje&. The abufes in reli-
gion he propofed to fet forth in the allegory of the coats,
and the three brothers; which was to make up the bo-
dy of the difcourfe: thofe in learning he chofe to in-
troduce by way of digreffions. He was then a young
gentleman much in the world; and wrote to the talte
of thoſe who were like himfelf: therefore, in order to
allure them, he gave a liberty to his pen, which might
not fuit with maturer years, or graver characters; and
which he could have eafily corrected with a very few
blots, had he been maſter of his papers for a year or two
before their publication.
Not that he would have governed his judgment by
the ill-placed cavils of the four, the envious, the ftupid,
and the taftelefs; which he mentions with difdain. He
acknowledges there are feveral youthful fallies, which,
from the grave and the wife, may deferve a rebuke. But
he defires to be anfwerable no farther than he is guilty;
and that his faults may not be multiplied by the igno-
rant, the unnatural and uncharitable applications of
thofe, who have neither candor to fuppofe good mean-
ings, nor palate to diſtinguiſh true ones. After which,
he will forfeit his life, if any one opinion can be fairly
deduced from that book, which is contrary to religion
or morality.
Why should any clergyman of our church be angry
to
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 3
to fee the follies of Fanaticifm and Superftition expofed,
though in the most ridiculous manner? fince that is per-
haps the most probable way to cure them, or at leaſt to
hinder them from farther fpreading. Besides, though
it was not intended for their perufal, it rallies nothing
but what they preach againft. It contains nothing to
provoke them by the leaft fcurrility upon their perfons
or their functions. It celebrates the church of England
as the most perfeet of all others in difcipline and doctrine;
it advances no opinion they reject, nor condemns any
they receive. If the clergy s refentments lay upon their
hands, in my humble cpinion, they might have found
more proper objects to employ them on. Nondum tibi
defuit hoftis; I mean thofe heavy, illiterate fcribblers,
proftitute in their reputations, vitious in their lives, and
ruined in their fortunes; who, to the face of good
fence as well as piety, are greedily read, merely upon
the ftrength of bold, falfe, impious affertions, mixed
with unmannerly reflections upon the priclihood, and
openly intended against all religion; in short, full of fuch
principles as are kindly received, becauf: they are le-
velled to remove thofe terrrors, that religion tells men
will be the conſequence of immoral lives. Nothing like
which is to be met with in this diſcourſe, though fome
of them are pleafed fo freely to cenfure it. And I wifh
there were no other inftance of what I have too frequent-
ly obferved, that many of that Reverend body are not
always very nice in ditinguishing between their ene-
mies and their friends.
Had the author's intentions met with a more candid
interpretation from fome, whom out of refpect he for-
bears to name, he might have been encouraged to an
examination of books written by fome of thofe authors
above deſcribed; whoſe errors, ignorance, dulnefs, and
villainy, he thinks he could have detected and expofed
in fuch a manner, that the perfons who are moft con-
ceived to be infected by them, would foon lay them a-
fide, and be ashamed. But he has now given over thofe
thoughts; fince the weightieft men in the weightieft
ftations, are pleafed to think it a more dangerous point,
B 2
to
Alluding to Dr. Sharp the Archbishop of York's repreſentation
of the author. Hawkefworth.
4
OF A TUB.
A TALE
to laugh at thofe corruptions in religion which they
themſelves muſt diſapprove, than to endeavour pulling
up thofe very foundations wherein all Chriftians have
agreed.
He thinks it no fair proceeding, that any perfon
fhould offer determinately to fix a name upon the au-
thor of this difcourie, who hath all along concealed
himſelf from moft of his nearest friends: yet feveral
have gone a farther ftep, and pronounced another book*
to have been the work of the fame hand with this ;
which the author directly affirms to be a thorough mif-
take, he having yet never fo much as read that dif
courfe: A plain inftance how little truth there often
is in general furmifes, or in conjectures drawn from a
fimilitude of ftyle, or way of thinking.
Had the author written a book to expofe the abufes
in law, or in phyfic, he believes the learned profeffors
in either faculty would have been fo far from refenting
it, as to have given him thanks for his pains ; eſpecially
if he had made an honourable reſervation for the true
practice of either fcience. But religion, they tell us,
ought not to be ridiculed; and they tell us truth: yet
furely the corruptions in it may, for we are taught by
the triteft maxim in the world, that religion being the
beft of things, its corruptions are likely to be the worſt.
There is one thing which the judicious reader cannot
but have obferved, that fome of thoſe paffages in this
difcourfe which appear moſt liable to objection are what
they call parodies, where the author perfonates the flyle
and manner of other writers, whom he has a mind to
expofe. I fhall produce one inftance; it is in fect, 1.
parag. 3. from the end, p. 47. Dryden, L'Etrange,
and fome others I thall not name, are here levelled at;
who, having ſpent their lives in faction, and a poftafics,
and all manner of vice, pretended to be fufferers for
loyalty and religion. So Dryden tells us, in one of his
prefaces, of his merits and fufferings; thanks God,
that he poffeffes his foul in patience; in other places he
talks at the fame rate; and L'Etrange often uſes the
like ſtyle; and I believe the reader may find more per-
fons to give that paffage an application. But this is
* Letter concerning enthufiafm.
enough
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 5
enough to direct thoſe who may have overlooked the
author's intention.
There are three or four other paffages, which preju-
diced or ignorant readers have drawn by great force to
hint at ill meanings; as if they glanced at fome tenets
in religion. In anfwer to all which, the author fo-
lemnly protefts he is entirely innocent; and never had
it once in his thoughts, that any thing he faid would in
the least be capable of fuch interpretations; which he
will engage to deduce full as fairly from the most inno-
cent book in the world. And it will be obvious to every
reader, that this was not any part of his ſcheme or de-
fign; the abufes he notes, being fuch as all church-of-
England men agree in: nor was it proper for his fubject
to meddle with other points, than fuch as have been
perpetually controverted fince the reformation.
To inftance only in that paffage about the three
wooden machines mentioned in the introduction: In the
original manufcript there was a defcription of a fourth,
which thoſe, who had the papers in their power, blotted
out, as having fomething in it of fatire, that, I fuppofe,
they thought was too particular; and therefore they
were forced to change it to the number three; from
whence fome have endeavoured to fqueeze out a dan-
gerous meaning, that was never thought on. And in-
deed the conceit was half fpoiled by changing the num-
bers; that of four being much more cabaliſtic, and
therefore better expoling the pretended virtue of num-
bers; a fuperftition there intended to be ridiculed.
Another thing to be obferved, is, that there general-
ly runs an irony through the thread of the whole book;
which the men of tafte will obferve and diftinguiſh, and
which will render fome objections, that have been made,
very weak and infignificant.
This apology being chiefly intended for the fatisfac-
tion of future readers, it may be thought unneceffary to
take any notice of fuch treatiſes as have been written a-
gainst the enfuing difcourfe; which are already funk
into wafte-paper and oblivion, after the ufual fate of
common anfwerers to books which are allowed to have
any merit. They are indeed like annuals, that grow
about a young tree, and ſeem to vie with it for a fum-
mer;
6
TALE OF A TUB.
A
mer; but fall and die with the leaves in autumn, and are
never heard of any more. When Dr. Echard writ his
book about the contempt of the clergy, numbers of thoſe
anfwerers immediately started up, whofe memory if he
had not kept alive by his replies, it would now be ut-
terly unknown, that he were ever answered at all.
There is indeed an exception, when any great genius
thinks it worth his while to expofe a foolish piece. So we
ftill read Marvel's anfwer to Parker with pleaſure,
though the book it anſwers be funk long ago; ſo the
Earl of Orrery's remarks will be read with delight, when
the differtation he expofes will neither be fought nor
found +. But theſe are no enterpriſes for common hands,
nor to be hoped for above once or twice in an age.
Men would be more cautious of lofing their time in
fuch an undertaking, if they did but confider, that to
anfwer a book effectually, requires more pains and fkill,
more wit, learning and judgment, than were employed
in the writing it. And the author affures thofe gentle-
men, who have given themfelves that trouble with him,
that his difcourfe is the product of the ſtudy, the obſer-
vation, and the invention of feveral years; that he oft-
en blotted out much more than he left; and, if his pa- .
pers had not been a long time out of his poffeflion,
they must have ftill undergone mere fevere corrections.
And do they think fuch a building is to be battered
with dirt-pellets, however invenomed the mouths may
be that difcharge them? He hath feen the productions.
but of two anſwerers; one of which at firft appear-
ed as from an unknown hand, but fince avowed by a
perfon †, who upon fome occafions hath diſcovered no
ill vein of humour. It is a pity any occafion fhould
put
* Parker, afterwards Bishop of Oxford, wrote many treatiſes a-
gainst the diffenters, with infolence and contempt, fays Burnet, that
enraged them beyond meature; for which he was chaftifed by An-
drew Marvel, under-fecretary to Milton, in a little book called, The
Rehearsal tranfprofed. Harukif
Boyle's remarks upon Bentley's differtation on the epiftles of
Phalaris. Hawkef.
Suppofed to be Dr. William King, the civilian, author of an ac-
count of Denmark, a diſſertation on famplais and other pieces of
burlefque on the Royal Society, and the art of cookery in imitation
of Horace's art of poetry, &c. Harykef,
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 7
put him under a neceffity of being fo hafty in his pro-
ductions, which otherwife might often be entertaining.
But there were other reafons obvious enough for his
mifcarriage in this; he writ against the conviction of his
talent, and entered upon one of the wrongest attempts
in nature, to turn into ridicule, by a week's labour, a
work, which had coft fo much time, and met with fo
much fuccefs in ridiculing others. The manner, how
he handled his fubject, I have now forgot; having jult
looked it over, when it first came out, as others did,
merely for the fake of the title *.
The other anfwer is from a perfon of a graver cha-
racter, and is made up of half invective, and half anno-
tation † ; in the latter of which he hath generally fuc-
ceeded well enough. And the project at that time was
not amifs to draw in readers to his pamphlct; feveral hav-
ing appeared defirous, that there might be fome expli-
cation of the more difficult pallages. Neither can he
be altogether blamed for offering at the invective part;
becauſe it is agreed on all hands, that the author had
given him fufficient provocation. The great objection
is against his manner of treating it, very unfuitable to
one of his function. It was determined by a fair majo-
rity, that this anſwer had, in a way not to be pardon-
ed, drawn his pen against a certain great man then alive,
and univerfally reverenced for every good quality that
could poffibly enter into the compofition of the most ac-
compliſhed perfon. It was obferved, how he was pleaf-
ed, and affected to have that noble writer called his
adverfary; and it was a point of fatire well directed;
for I have been told, Sir William Temple was fufficient-
ly mortified at the term. All the men of wit and po-
litenefs were immediately up in arms through indigna-
tion,
This we cannot recover at prefent, it being fo abfolutely forgot-
ten, the oldeſt bookſellers in trade remember nothing of it. Hawkef.
+ Wotton's defence of his reflections upon ancient and modern
learning. From the annotations are felected the notes figned, W.
Wotton. Thus Wotton appears bufied to illuftrate a work, which he
laboured to condemn, and adds force to a fatire pointed against him-
felf as captives were bound to the chariot-wheel of the victor, and
compelled to increase the pomp of his triumph, whom they had in
vain attempted to defeat. Harukef.
8
A TALE OF A TUB.
In
tion, which prevailed over their contempt, by the con-
fequences they apprehended from fuch an example; and
it grew Porfenna's cafe; idem trecenti juravimus.
fhort, things were ripe for a general infurrection, till
my Lord Orrery had a little laid the fpirit, and fettled
the ferment. But his Lordship being principally en-
gaged with another antagoniſt*, it was thought ne-
ceffary, in order to quiet the minds of men, that this
oppofer fhould receive a reprimand, which partly oc-
cafioned that difcourfe of the battle of the books; and
the author was farther at the pains to infert one or two
remarks on him in the body of the book.
This anfwerer has been pleaſed to find fault with about
a dozen paffages, which the author will not be at the
trouble of defending, farther, than by affuring the
reader, that, for the greater part, the reflecter is entirely
miſtaken, and forces interpretations which never once
entered into the writer's head, nor will (he is fure) into
that of any reader of tafte and candor. He allows two
or three at moft, there produced, to have been deliver-
ed unwarily; for which he defires to plead the excufe
offered already, of his youth, and franknefs of fpeech,
and his papers being out of his power at the time they
were published.
But this anfwerer infifts, and fays, what he chiefly dif
likes, is the defign. What that was, I have already
told; and I believe there is not a perfon in England
who can underfland that book, that ever imagined it
to have been any thing elfe, but to expofe the abufes
and corruptions in learning and religion.
But it would be good to know what defign this re-
flecter was ferving, when he concludes his pamphlet
with a caution to the reader, to beware of thinking the
author's wit was entirely his own. Surely this muſt have
had fome allay of perfonal animofity, at leaft mixed
with the defign of ferving the public by ſo uſeful a dif-
covery; and it indeed touches the author in a tender
point; who infills upon it, that, through the whole
book he has not borrowed one fingle hint from any
writer in the world; and he thought, of all criticifms,
Bentley, concerning Phalaris and fop. Harukef:
that
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 9
that would never have been one. He conceived, it was
never difputed to be an original, whatever faults it
might have. However, this anſwerer produces three in-
ftances, to prove this author's wit is not his own in many
places. The firft is, that the names of Peter, Martin and
Jack, are borrowed from a letter of the late Duke of
Buckingham *. Whatever wit is contained in thoſe
three names the author is content to give it up, and de-
fires his readers will fubtract as much as they placed up-
on that account; at the fame time proteſting folemnly,
that he never once heard of that letter, except in this
paffage of the anſwerer: fo that the names were not
borrowed, as he affirms, though they ſhould happen to
be the fame; which however is odd enough, and what
he hardly believes; that of Jack being not quite fo
obvious as the other two. The fecond inftance to fhew
the author's wit is not his own, is Peter's banter (as he
calls it in his Alfatia phrafe) upon tranfubftantiation,
which is taken from the fame Duke's conference with
an Iriſh prieft, where a cork is turned into a horſe.
This the author confeffes to have feen about ten years
after his book was written, and a year or two after it was
publiſhed. Nay, the anfwerer overthrows this himſelf;
for he allows the tale was written in 1697; and I think,
that pamphlet was not printed in many years after. It
was neceffary, that corruption fhould have fome al-
legory as well as the reft; and the author invented
the propereft he could, without inquiring what other
people had written; and the commoneft reader will
find, there is not the leaft reſemblance between the two
ftories. The third inftance is in thefe words: I have
been affured, that the battle in St. James's library is, mu-
tatis mutandis, taken out of a French book, intitled, Com-.
bat des livres, If I mifremember not. In which paffage
there are two clauſes obfervable: 1 have been affured;
and, If I mifremember not. Idefire first to know, whe-..
ther, if that conjecture proves an utter falfehood, thoſe
two claufes will be a fufficient excufe for this worthy
critic. The matter is a trifle.: but would he venture
to pronounce at this rate upon one of greater mo-
ment? I know nothing more contemptible in a writer,
B 5.
-
than
* Villers..
10
A TALE OF A TUB.
than the character of a plagiary; which he here fixes
at a venture; and this not for a paffage, but a whole dif-
courſe, taken out from another book, only mutatis mu-
tandis. The author is as much in the dark about this,
as the anſwerer; and will imitate him by an affirmation
at random; that if there be a word of truth in this re-
flection, he is a paultry, imitating pedant, and the an-
fwerer is a perfon of wit, manners, and truth: He takes
his boldneſs, from never having feen any fuch treatiſe
in his life, nor heard of it before, and he is fure it is
impoffible for two writers of different times and coun-
tries, to agree in their thoughts after fuch a manner,
that two continued difcourfes fhall be the fame, only
mutatis mutandis. Neither will he infift upon the miſtake
in the title. But let the anſwerer and his friend pro-
duce any book they pleaſe, he defies them to fhew one
fingle particular, where the judicious reader will affirm
he has been obliged for the fmalleft hint; giving only
allowance for the accidental encountering of a fingle
thought, which he knows may fometimes happen;
though he has never yet found it in that diſcourſe, nor
has heard it objected by any body elfe.
So that if ever any defign was unfortunately executed,
it must be that of this anfwerer; who when he would
have it obferved, that the author's wit is none of his
own,
is able to produce but three in flances, two of them mere
trifles, and all three manireilly falſe. If this be the
way thefe gentlemen deal with the world in thoſe criti-
cifms, where we have not leiſure to defeat them, their
readers had need be cautious, how they rely upon their
credit; and whether this proceeding can be reconciled
to humanity or truth, let thofe, who think it worth their
while, determine.
It is agreed, this anfwerer would have fucceeded much
better, if he had ſtuck wholly to his bufinefs, as a com-
mentator upon the Tale of a tub, wherein it cannot be
denied, that he hath been of fome fervice to the public,
and hath given very fair conjectures towards clearing
up
fome difficult paffages. But it is the frequent error
of thofe men, (otherwife very commendable for their
labours,) to make excurfions beyond their talent and
their office, by pretending to point out the beauties
and
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. II
and the faults; which is no part of their trade, which
they always fail in, which the world never expected
from them, nor give them any thanks for endeavouring
at.
The part of Minellius, or Farnaby *, would have
fallen in with his genius, and might have been fervice-
able to many readers, who cannot enter into the ab-
ftrufer parts of that difcourfe. But optat ephippia bos
piger: The dull, unwieldly, ill-fhaped ox would needs
put on the furniture of a horfe, not confidering he was
born to labour, to plough the ground for the fake of ſu-
perior beings; and that he has neither the fhape, met-
tle, nor ſpeed of that noble animal he would affect to
perfonate.
It is another pattern of this anfwerer's fair dealing, to
give us hints that the author is dead, and yet to lay
the fufpicion upon fome-body, I know not who, in the
country. To which can only be returned, that he is
abfolutely mistaken in all his conjectures; and furely
conjectures are, at beft, too light a pretence to allow a
man to affign a name in public. He condemns a book,
and confequently the author, of whom he is utterly ig-
norant; yet at the fame time fixes, in print, what he
thinks a difadvantageous character upon thofe who
never deferved it. A man, who receives a buffet in the
dark, may be allowed to be vexed; but it is an odd
kind of revenge, to go to cuffs in broad day with the
firit he meets, and lay the laſt night's injury at his door.
And thus much for this difereet, candid, pious, and inge--
nious anfwerer.
How the author came to be without his
papers, is a
ftory not proper to be told, and of very little ufe, be-
ing a private fact, of which the reader would believe as
little, or as much, as he thought good. He had how-
ever a blotted copy by him, which he intended to have
written over with many alterations; and this the pub-
liſhers were well aware of, having put it into the book-
feller's preface, that they apprehended a furreptitious copy,
which was to be altered, &c. This, though not regarded
by readers, was a real truth; only the furreptitious copy
was
* Low commentators, who wrote notes upon claffic authorrs of
the ufe of fchoolboys. Husof,
12
A TALE OF A TU B.
was rather that which was printed; and they made all
the haſte they could; which indeed was needleſs, the
author not being at all prepared. But he has been
told, the bookſeller was in much pain, having given a
good fum of money for the copy.
In the author's original copy there were not fo many
chafms as appear in the book; and why fome of them
were left, he knows not. Had the publication been.
truſted to him, he would have made feveral corrections
of paffages againſt which nothing hath been ever ob-
jected. He would likewife have altered a few of thoſe
that feem with any reafon to be excepted againft; but,
to deal freely, the greateſt number he fhould have left
untouched, as never fufpecting it poffible any wrong
interpretations could be made of them.
The author obferves, at the end of the book there is
a difcourfe, called, 4 fragment; which he more won-
dered to ſee in print, than all the reft: having been a
moſt imperfect ketch, with the addition of a few loofe
hints, which he once lent a gentleman, who had de-
figned a difcourfe on fomewhat the fame fubject. He
never thought of it afterwards; and it was a fufficient
furpriſe to fee it pieced up together, wholly out of the me-
thod and ſcheme he had intended; for it was the ground-
work of a much larger difcourfe, and he was forry to
obferve the materials fo foolishly employed.
*
There is one farther objection made by thofe who
have anſwered this book, as well as by fome others, That
Peter is frequently made to repeat oaths and curfes.
Every reader obſerves, it was neceffary to know that Pe-
ter did fwear and curfe. The oaths are not printed out,
but only ſuppoſed; and the idea of an oath is not im-
moral, like the idea of a profane or immodeft fpecch.
A man may laugh at the Popish folly of curting people
to hell, and imagine them fwearing, without any crime;
but lewd words, or dangerous opinions, though printed.
by halves, fill the reader's mind with ill ideas and of
thefe the author cannot be accufed. For the judicious
reader will find, that the fevereſt it okes of fatire, in his
book, are levelled againſt the modern cuſtom of em-
ploying wit upon thoſe topics; of which there is a re-
markable inftance in fect. 7. parag. 7. as well as in fe-
veral
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOG Y.
13
veral others, though perhaps once or twice expreffed in
too free a manner, excufeable only for the reaſons al-
ready alledged. Some overtures have been made, by a
third hand, to the bookfeller, for the author's altering
thofe paffages which he thought might require it. But
it feems the bookfeller will not hear of any fuch thing,
being apprehenſive it might ſpoil the fale of the book.
The author cannot conclude this apology, without
making this one reflection, That as wit is the nobleſt
and moft ufeful gift of human nature, fo humour is the
moſt agreeable; and where thefe two enter far into the
compofition of any work, they will render it always ac-
ceptable to the world. Now the greater part of thoſe,
who have no ſhare or tafte of either, but by their pride,
pedantry, and ill manners, lay themfelves bare to the
lafhes of both, think the blow is weak, becauſe they are
infenfible; and where wit hath any mixture of raillery,
it is but calling it banter, and the work is done. This
polite word of theirs was firft borrowed from the bul-
lies in White-Friers, then fell among the footmen, and
at laft retired to the pedants; by whom it is applied as
properly to the productions of wit, as if I fhould apply
it to Sir Ifaac Newton's mathematics. But if this ban-
tering, as they call it, be fo defpifable a thing, whence
comes it to pafs they have fuch a perpetual itch towards
it themſelves? To inftance only in the anfwerer al-
ready mentioned: It is grievous to fee him, in fome of
his writings, at every turn going out of his way to be
waggish, to tell us of a cow chat pricked up her tail; and
in his anfwer to this difcourfe, he fays, It is all a farce
and & hdle; with other paffages equally thining. One
may fay of thefe impedimenta literarum, that wit owes them
a fhane; and they cannot take wifer counfel, than to
keep out of harm's way, or at least not to come till they
are fure they are called.
To conclude: With thofe allowances above required
this book fhould be read; after which, the author con-
ceives, few things will remain, which may not be ex-
cuſed in a young writer. He wrote only to the men
of wit and talte; and he thinks he is not miſtaken in
his accounts, when he fays, they have been all of his
fide, enough to give him the vanity of telling his name;
wherein
14
A TALE OF A TUB.
wherein the world, with all its wife conjectures, is yet
very much in the dark: which circumftance is no dif
agreeable amufement either to the public or himſelf.
The author is informed, that the bookfeller has
pre-
vailed on feveral gentlemen to write fome explanatory
notes; for the goodneſs of which he is not to anſwer,
having never ſeen any of them, nor intending it till
they appear in print; when it is not unlikely he may
have the pleaſure to find twenty meanings, which never
entered into his immagination.
June 3, 1709.
POST SCRIPT.
SINCE
INCE the writing of this, which was about a year
ago, a proſtitute bookfeller hath publiſhed a fooliſh
paper, under the name of Notes on the Tale of a Tub,
with fome account of the author; and with an infolence,
which I fuppofe is punishable by law, hath prefumed to
affign certain names. It will be enough for the author
to affure the world, that the writer of that paper is ut-
terly wrong in all his conjectures upon that affair. The
author farther afferts, that the whole work is entirely
of one hand; which every reader of judgment will eafily
difcover the gentleman who gave the copy to the
bookfeller, being a friend of the author, and ufing no
other liberties, befides that of expunging certain paffa-
ges, where now the chafms appear under the name of
defiderata. But if any perfon will prove his claim to
three lines in the whole book, let him ftep forth, and
tell his name and titles; upon which the bookſeller
fhall have orders to prefix them to the next edition, and
the claimant fhall from henceforward be acknowledged
the undisputed author.
Treatifes
( 15 )
Treatifes written by the fame author, most of them mention-
ed in the following difcourfes, which will be speedily
published.
A
Character of the prefent fet of wits in this
ifland.
A panegyrical effay upon the number THREE.
A differtation upon the principal productions of
Grub-freet.
Lectures upon a diſſection of human nature.
A panegyric upon the world.
An analytical difcourfe upon zeal, hiftori-theo-phyfi-
logically confidered.
A general hiſtory of ears.
A modeſt defence of the proceedings of the rabble in
all ages.
A deſcription of the kingdom of abfurdities.
A voyage into England, by a perfon of quality in
Terra auftralis incognita, tranflated from the original.
A critical effay upon the art of canting, philofophi-
cally, and mufically confidered.
To
( 16 )
To the Right Honourable
JOHN LORD SOMMERS,
My LORD,
A
LTHOUGH the author has written a large dedi-
cation, yet that being a dreffed to a prince, whom
I am never likely to have the honour of being known to;
a perfon, befides, as far as I can obſerve, not at all re-
garded, or thought on by any of our prefent writers;
and being wholly free from that flavery which book-
fellers ufually lie under to the caprices of authors; I
think it a wife piece of prefumption, to infcribe theſe
papers to your Lordship, and to implore your Lord-
hip's protection of them. God and your Lordship
know their faults, and their merits: for as to my own
particular, I am altogether a ranger to the matter;
and though every body elfe fhould be equally ignorant,
I do not fear the fale of the book, at all the worie, up-
on that ſcore. Your Lordship's name on the front in
capital letters, will at any time get off one edition: nei-
ther would I defire any other help to grow an alderman,
than a patent for the fole privilege of dedicating to
your Lordship.
I fhould now, in right of a dedicator, give your
Lordship a lift of your own virtues, and at the fame time
be very unwilling to offend your modefty; but, chief-
ly, I should celebrate your liberality towards men of
great parts and mall fortunes, and give you broad hints,
that I mean myfelf. And I was just going on, in the
ufual method, to perufe a hundred or two of dedicati-
ons, and tranfcribe an abſtract, to be applied to your
Lordflip; but I was diverted by a certain accident.
For, upon the covers of thefe papers, 1 cafually obſerv-
ed, written in large letters, the two following words,
DETUR DIGNISSIMO; which, for aught I knew,
might contain fome important meaning. But it un-
luckily fell out, that none of the authors I employ un-
derstood Latin; (though I have them often in pay, to
tranflate out of that language.) I was therefore com-
pelled to have recourfe to the curate of our parish, who
Englished
The Bookfeller's Dedication.
17
Engliſhed it thus, Let it be given to the worthieft. And
his comment was, that the author meant his works
fhould be dedicated to the fublimeft genius of the age,
for wit, learning, judgment, eloquence, and wifdom.
I called at a poet's chamber (who works for my ſhop)
in an ally hard by, fhewed him the tranflation, and
defired his opinion, who it was that the author could
mean. He told me, after fome confideration, that va-
nity was a thing he abhorred; but, by the defcription,
he though himſelf to be the perfon aimed at; and, at
the fame time, he very kindly offered his own affiftance
gratis towards penning a dedication to himfelf. I de-
fired him, however, to give a fecond guefs. Why then,
faid he, it muſt be I, or my Lord Sommers. From
thence I went to feveral other wits of my acquaintance,
with no fmall hazard and wearinefs to my perfon, from a
prodigious number of dark, winding fairs; but found
them all in the fame ftory, both of your Lordship and
themſelves. Now, your Lordship is to underſtand,
that this proceeding was not of my own invention; for
I have fome where heard, it is a maxim, That thoſe, to
whom every body allows the fecond place, have an un-
doubted title to the firft.
This infallibly convinced me, that your Lordship
was the perfon intended by the author. But, being
very unacquainted in the ftyle and form of dedications,
I employed thoſe wits aforefaid, to furniſh me with
hints and materials towards a panegyric upon your
Lordship's virtues.
In two days they brought me ten theets of paper, fill-
ed up on every fide. They fwore to me, that they had
ranfacked whatever could be found in the characters of
Socrates, Ariftides, Epaminondas, Cato, Tully, Atti-
cus, and other hard names, which I cannot now recol-
lect. However, I have reaſon to believe, they impofed
upon my ignorance; becauſe, when I came to read over
their collections, there was not a fyllable there, but
what I and every body elfe knew as well as themſelves.
Therefore I grievoufly fufpect a cheat; and that thefe au-
thors of mine ftole and tranfèribed every word from the
univerfal report of mankind. So that I lock upon my-
felf,
18
A TALE OF A TUB.
felf, as fifty fhillings out of pocket to no manner of
purpoſe.
If, by altering the title, I could make the fame mate-
rials ferve for another dedication, (as my betters have
done,) it would help to make up my lofs: but I have
made feveral perfons dip here and there in thofe papers;
and before they read three lines, they have all affured
me plainly, that they cannot poffibly be applied to any
perfon beĥides your Lordſhip.
I expected indeed, to have heard of your Lordship's
bravery at the head of an army; of your undaunted
courage, in mounting a breach, or fcaling a wall; or
to have had your pedigree traced in a lineal defcent from
the houfe of Auftria; or of your wonderful talent at
drefs and dancing; or your profound knowledge in
algebra, metaphyfics, and the oriental tongues. But
to ply the world with an old beaten tory of your wit,
and eloquence, and learning, and wildom, and juftice,
and politeneſs, and candor, and evenefs of temper in
all fcenes of life; of that great difcernment in difco-
vering and readineſs in favouring deferving men ; with
forty other common topics; I confefs, I have neither
conſcience, nor countenance to do it: because there is
no virtue, either of a publick or a private life, which
fome circumftances of your own have not often pro-
duced upon the ftage of the world; and thofe few,
which, for want of occafions to exert them, might
otherwife have paffed unfeen or unobferved by your
friends, your enemies * have at length brought to light.
It is true, I thould be very loth, the bright example of
your Lordship's virtues fhould be lot to after ages,
both for their fake and your own; but chiefly becaufe
they will be fo very neceffary to adorn the hiftory 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 wife men, that, as dedications have run
for
* In 1701, Lord Sommers was impeached by the Commons, who,
either finding their proofs defective, or for other reaſons, delayed
coming to a trial; and the Lords thereupon proceeded to the trial
without them, and acquitted him. Hawkef.
+ K. William's; whofe memory he defended in the houfe of Lords
againſt ſome invidious reflections of the Earl of Nottingham. Hawkef.
The Bookfeller's Dedication.
19
for fome years paft, a good hiftorian will not be apt to
have recourſe thither, in fearch of characters.
There is one point, wherein I think we dedicators
would do well to change our meaſures; I mean, initead
of running on fo far upon the praiſe of our patron's li-
berality, to fpend a word or two in admiring their pa-
tience. I can put no greater compliment on your Lord-
fhip's, than by giving you fo ample an occafion to ex-
ercife it at prefent. Though perhaps I fhall not be
apt to reckon much merit to your Lordship upon that
fcore, who having been formerly uſed to tedious ha-
rangues*, and fometimes to as little purpoſe, will be
the readier, to pardon this; efpecially when it is offer-
ed by one, who is, with all refpect and veneration,
MY LORD,
Your Lordship's moft obedient,
and moſt faithful fervant,
The Bookfeller.
* Sir John Sommers was Attorney-General; then made Lord
Keeper of the Seals in 1692, and Lord High Chancellor and Baron
of Eveſham in April 1697. Hawkef,
The
( 20 )
IT
The BOOKSELLER to the READER.
T is now fix years* fince thefe papers came firſt to
my hand, which feems to have been about a twelve-
month after they were written: for the author tells us
in his preface to the firſt treatiſe, that he hath calcu-
lated it for the year 1697; and in ſeveral paffages of
that diſcourſe, as well as the fecond, it appears they
were written about that time.
As to the author, I can give no manner of fatisfac-
tion. However I am credibly informed, that this pub-
lication is without his knowledge; for he concludes
the copy is loft, having lent it to a perfon, fince dead,
and being never in poffeffion of it after: fo that whe-
ther the work received his laft hand, or whether he in-
tended to fill up the defective places, is like to remain
a fecret.
If I fhould go about to tell the reader, by what acci-
dent I became matter of thefe papers, it would, in this
unbelieving age, pafs for little more than the cant or
jargon of the trade. I therefore gladly fpare both him
and myfelf fo unneceffary a trouble. There yet remains
a difficult queſtion, Why I publiſhed them no fooner?
I forbore upon two accounts: first, becauſe I thought I
had better work upon my hands; and, fecondly, be-
cauſe I was not without fome hope of hearing from the
author and receiving his directions. But I have been
lately alarmed with intelligence of a furreptitious co-
py which a certain great wit had new polished and re-
fined; or as our prefènt writers exprefs themselves, fit-
ted to the bumour of the age; as they have already done
with great felicity, to Don Quixote, Boccalini, La
Braycie, and other authors. However, I thought it
fairer dealing to offer the whole work in its naturals.
If any gentleman will pleafe to furnish me with a key,
in order to explain the more difficult parts, I fhall very
gratefully acknowledge the favour, and print it by itfelf.
* The Tale of a Tub was firſt publiſhed in 1704. Hawkef,
+See the Apology, p. 11.
The
( 21 )
The EPISTLE DEDICATORY,
To his Royal Highness
PRINCE POSTERIT Y.
I
SIR,
HERE prefent your Highnefs with the fruits of a very
few leifure-hours, ftolen from the fhort intervals of a
world of Buſineſs, and of an employment quite alien
from fuch amuſements as this; the poor production of
that refufe 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 reafons, it cannot chufe ex-
tremely to deferve fuch a patronage as that of your High-
neſs, whoſe numberlefs virtues, in fo 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 univerfal learned world already
refolved upon appealing to your future dictates with the
lowest and most refigned fubmiffion; fate having de-
creed you fole arbiter of the productions of human wit,
in this polite and moft accomplished age. Methinks,
the number of appellants were enough to thock and
ftartle any judge of a genius lefs unlimited than yours.
But, in order to prevent fuch glorious trials, the perfon,
it feems, to whofe care the education of your Highness
is committed, has refolved (I am told) to keep you in
almoſt an univerfal ignorance of our studies, which it
is your inherent birthright to infpect.
It
The citation out of Irenæus in the title-page, which feems to be
all gibberish, is a form of initiation ufed anciently by the Marcofian
beretics. W. Wotton.
It is the ufual ſtyle of decried writers, to appeal to Pofterity; who
is here reprefented as a prince in his nonage, and Time as his gover-
nor; and the author begins in a way very frequent with him, by
perfonating other writers, who fometimes offer fuch reafons and ex-
cufes for publiſhing their works, as they ought chiefly to conceal,
and be ashamed of,
22
A TALE OF A TUB.
It is amazing to me, that this perfon fhould have af-
furance, in the face of the fun, to go about perfuading
your Highnefs, that our age is almoft wholly illiterate,
and has hardly produced one writer upon any fubject.
I know very well, that when your highnefs fhall come
to riper years, and have gone through the learning of
antiquity, you will be too curious to neglect inquiring
into the authors of the very age before you. And to
think that this infolent, in the account he is preparing
for your view, defigns to reduce them to a number fo
infignificant as I am afhamed to mention; it moves my
zeal and my ſpleen for the honour and intereſt of our
vaft flouriſhing body, as well as of myſelf, for whom I
know, by long experience, he has profeffed, and ſtill
continues a peculiar malice.
It is not unlikely, that when your Highneſs will one
day perufe what I am now writing, you may be ready
to expoftulate with your governor upon the credit of
what I here affirm, and command him to fhew you fome
of our productions. To which he will anfwer, (for I
am well informed of his defigns,) by afking your High-
nefs, Where they are? and, What is become of them?
and pretend it a demonftration that there never were
any, becauſe they are not then to be found. Not to be
found! Who has miflaid them? Are they funk in the
abyfs of things? It is certain, that in their own nature
they were light enough to fwim upon the furface for
all eternity. Therefore the fault is in him, who tied
weights fo heavy to their hecls, as to deprefs them to
the centre. Is their very effence deftroyed? who has
annihilated them? were they drowned by purges, or
martyred by pipes? who adminiſtered them to the po-
fteriors of ? But that it may no longer be a doubt
with your highnefs, who is to be the author of this uni-
verfal ruin; I befeech you to obſerve that large and ter-
rible ſcythe, which your governor affects to bear conti-
nually about him. Be pleafed to remark the length
and ftrength, the fharpnefs and hardnefs of his nails and
teeth; confider his baneful, abominable breath, enemy
to life and matter, infectious and corrupting; and then
reflect, whether it be poffible for any mortal ink and
paper of this generation to make a fuitable refiftance.
Oh!
The Dedication to Prince Pofterity.
23
Oh! that your Highness would one day refolve to
difarm this ufurping maitre du palais * of his furious
engines, and bring your empire hors de page †.
It were endless to recount the feweral methods of ty-
ranny and deftruction which your governor is pleaſed to
practiſe on this occafion. His inveterate malice is
fuch to the writings of our age, that of feveral thou-
fands produced yearly from this renowned city, before
the next revolution of the fun there is not one to be
heard of: Unhappy infants, many of them barbaroudly
deftroyed, before they have fo much as learned their
mother tongue to beg for pity. Some he ftifles in their
cradles; others he frights into convulfions, whereof
they fuddenly die': fome he flays alive, others he tears.
limb from limb: great numbers are offered to Moloch;
and the reft, tainted by his breath, die of a languishing
confumption.
But the concern I have moft at heart, is for our cor-
poration of pocts; from whom I am preparing a peti-
tion to your highnefs, to be fubfcribed with the names
of one hundred and thirty fix of the firſt rate; but whoſe
immortal productions are never likely to reach your
eyes, though each of them is now humble and an ear-
neft appellant for the laurel, and has large comely vo-
lumes ready to fhew for a fupport to his pretenfions.
The never-dying works of thefe illuftrious perfons, 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 fingle poet.
We confefs Immortality to be a great and powerful
goddeſs but in vain we offer up to her our devotions
and our facrifices, if your Highness's governor, who has
ufurped the priesthood, muft, by an unparalied ambi-
tion and avarice, wholly intercept and devour them.
:
To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned, and
devoid of writers in any kind, feems to be an affertion
fo
* Comptroller. The kingdom of France had a race of kings, which
they call les roys faineans, [from their doing nothing,] who lived la-
zily in their apartments, while the kingdom was adminiftered by the
mayor de palais; till Charles Martel the lift mayor put his master
to death, and took the kingdom into his own hand. "Hawkef,
+ Out of guardianship.
1
24
A TALE OF A TUB.
fo bold and fo falfe, that I have been fometime think-
ing, the contrary may almoſt be proved by uncontroul-
able demonftration. It is true indeed, that although
their numbers be vaft, and their productions numerous
in proportion; yet are they hurried fo haftily off the
fcene, that they eſcape our memory, and elude our
fight. When I first thought of this addreſs, I had pre-
pared a copious lift of titles to prefent your Highneſs,
as an undisputed argument for what I affirm. The
originals were pofted 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 enquired atter them among readers and
bookfellers; but I enquired in vain; the memorial of
them was lofi among men, their place was no more to be
found and I was laughed to fcorn for a clown and a
pedant, without all tafte and refinement, little verfed
in the courfe of prefent affairs, and that knew no-
thing of what had paffed 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 tafk too flippery for my
flender abilities. If I fhould venture in a windy day to
affirm to your Highnefs, that there is a 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 weftward, with
claws like a dragon; and your Highness thould in a
few minutes kink fit to examine the truth; it is certain,
they would all be changed in figure and pofition; new
ones would arife; and all we could agree upon, would
be, that clouds there were, but that I was grofsly mif-
taken in the zoography and topography of them.
But your governor perhaps may still infiit, and put the
queftion, What is then become of thofe immenfe bales
of paper, which muft needs have been employed in fuch
numbers of books? Can theſe allo be wholly annihilate,
and fo of a fudden, as I pretend? What shall I fay in re-
turn of fo invidious an objection? It ill befits the dif
tance between your Highness and me, to fend you for
ocular conviction to a jakes, or an oven; to the win-
dows of a bawdy-houfe, or to a fordid lantern. Books,
like men, their authors, have no more than one way of
coming
The Dedication to Prince Poſterity.
25
coming into the world; but there are ten thouſand to
go out of it, and return no more.
I profefs to your Highnefs, in the integrity of my
heart, that what I am going to fay is literally true
this minute I am writing. What revolutions may hap-
pen before it ſhall be ready for your perufal, I can by
no means warrant: however, I beg you to accept it as
a fpecimen of our learning, our politenefs, and our wit.
I do therefore affirm, upon the word of a fincere man,
that there is now actually in being a certain poet, called
John Dryden, whofe tranflation of Virgil was lately
printed in a large folio, well bound, and if diligent
fearch 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 caufed many reams of verfe to
be published, whereof both himſelf and his book feller
(if lawfully required) can ftill produce authentic co-
pies; and therefore wonders, why the world is pleaſed
to make fuch a fecret of it. There is a third, known
by the name of Tom Durfey, a poet of a vaſt compre-
henfion, an univerfal genius, and most profound learn-
ing. There are alfo one Mr. Rymer, and one Mr. Dennis,
most profound critics. There is a perfon ftyled Dr.
Bentley, who has written near a thouſand pages of im-
menfe erudition, giving a full and true account of a
certain fquabble of wonderful importance between him-
felf and a bookfeller *. He is a writer of infinite wit
and humour ; no man rallies with a better grace, and in
more fprightly turns. Farther, I vow to your Highness,
that with thefe eyes I have beheld the perfon of Wil-
liam Wotton, B. D. who has written a good fizeable
volume againſt a friend of your governor† (from whom,
alas, he must therefore look for little favour) in a
mot gentlemanly ftyle, adorned with the utmo po-
liteness and civility replete with difcoveries, equally
valuable for their novelty and ufe; and imbelliſhed with
C
traits
Bentley, in his controverfy with Lord Orrery upon the genuine-
nefs of Phalaris's epiftles, has given, in a preface, a long account
of his dialogues with a book feller, about the loan and reftitution of
a M. S.
Hawkef.
↑ Sir William Temple.
26
A TALE OF A TUB.
traits of wit, ſo poignant and ſo appofite, that he is a
worthy yokemate to his forementioned.friend.
Why fhould I go upon farther particulars, which
might fill a volume with the juft elogies of my contem-
porary brethren? I fhall 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 perfons
I fhall defcribe particularly, and at length; their ge-
nius and underſtanding in miniature.
In the mean time, I do here make bold to preſent
your highneſs with a faithful abſtract drawn from the
univerfal body of all arts and ſciences, intended wholly
for your ſervice and inſtruction. Nor do I doubt in the
leaft, but your highneſs will perufe it as carefully, and
make as confiderable improvements, as other young
princes have already done by the many volumes of late
years written for a help to their ftudies *.
That your Highnefs may advance in wiſdom and
virtue, as well as years, and at laſt outſhine all your
royal anceſtors, fhall be the daily prayer of,
SIR,
Decemb. 1697.
Your Highness's
Moft devoted, &c.
There were innumerable books printed for the uſe of the Dau-
phin of France. Hawkef.
The
27
T
The PREFACE.
;
HE wits of the prefent age being fo very nume-
rous and penetrating, it feems the grandees of
church and ſtate begin to fall under horrible apprehen-
fions, left thefe gentlemen, during the intervals of a
long peace, fhould find leiſure to pick holes in the weak
fides of religion and government. To prevent which,
there has been much thought employed of late upon cer-
tain projects for taking off the force and edge of thoſe
formidable inquirers, from canvaffing and reafoning upon
fuch delicate points. They have at length fixed upon
one, which will require fome time as well as coſt to per-
fect. Men while, the danger hourly increafing, by
new levies of wits all appointed (as there is reafon to
fear) with pen, ink, and paper, which may, at an
hour's warning, be drawn out into pamphlets, and
other offenfive weapons, ready for immediate execution
it was judged of abfolute neceffity, that fome preſent
expedient be thought on, till the main defign can be
brought to maturity. To this end, at a grand com-
mittee, fome days ago, this important difcovery was
made by a certain curious and refined obferver, That
fcamen have a custom, when they meet a whale, to Aling
him out an empty tub by way of amufement, to divert
him from laying violent hands upon the fhip. This pa-
rable was immediately mythologiſed. The whale was
interpreted to be Hobbes's Leviathan; which toffes and
plays with all fchemes of religion and government,
whereof a great many are hollow, and dry, and empty,
and noify, and wooden, and given to rotation.
the Leviathan, from whence the terrible wits of our age
are faid to borrow their weapons. The hip in danger,
is eafily understood to be its old antitype, the common-
wealth. But how to analyte the tub, was a matter of
difficulty; when, after long inquiry and debate, the li-
teral meaning was preferved: and it was decreed, that,
in order to prevent thefe Leviathans from tolling and
fporting with the commonwealth, which of itſelf is too
apt to fluctuate, they fhould be diverted from that game
C 2
This is
by.
23
A TALE OF A TUB.
by a Tale of a Tub. And my genius being conceived to
lie not unhappily that way, I had the honour done.me
to be engaged in the performance.
This is the fole defign in publifhing the following
treatiſe; which I hope will ferve for an interim of ſome
months to employ thofe unquiet fpirits, till the perfecting
of that great work into the fecret of which, it is rea-
fonable the courteous reader fhould have fome little
light.
It is intended, that a large academy be erected, capa-
ble of containing nine thousand feven hundred forty and
three perfons; which, by modeft computation, is
reckoned to be pretty near the current number of wits
in this iſland. Theſe are to be diſpoſed into the ſeveral
ſchools of this academy, and there purfue thofe ftudies
to which their genias moft inclines them. The under-
taker himſelf will publifh his propofals with all conve-
nient fpeed; to which I fhall refer the curious reader
for a more particular account, mentioning at prefent only
a few of the principal fchools. There is, firft, a large
pæderaftic ſchool, with French and Italian mafters: there
is, alfo, the fpelling fchool, a very spacious building; the
fchool of looking-glaſſes; the fchool of wearing; the
fchool of critics; the fchool of falivation; the fchool of
hobby-borfes; the fchool of poetry; the ſchool of tops ; †
the fchool of Spleen; the fchool of gaming; and many
others too tedious to recount. No perfon to be admitted
member into any of theſe ſchools, without an attefta-
tion under two fufficient perfons hands, certifying him
to be a wit.
But to return: I am fufficiently inftructed in the prin-
cipal duty of a preface, if my genius were capable of ar-
riving at it. Thrice have I forced my imagination to
make the tour of my invention, and thrice it has return-
ed empty; the latter having been wholly drained by the
following treatiſe. Not fo my more fucceſsful brethren
the moderns, who will by no means let flip a preface or
dedication
This I think the author fhould have omitted, it being of the
very fame nature with the fchool of hobby-borfes, if one may venture
to cenfure one, who is fo fevere a cenfurer of others, perhaps with
too little diſtinction,
THE PREFACE.
29
.
dedication without fome notable diftinguiſhing ſtroke
to furprife the reader at the entry, and kindle a won-
derful expectation of what is to enfue. Such was that
of a moft ingenious poet, who, foliciting his brain for
fomething new, compared himfelf to the hangman, and
his patron to the patient. This was infigne, recens, indic-
tum ore alio. * When I went through that neceffary and
noble courſe of ſtudy, † 1 had the happineſs to obſerve -
many fuch egregious touches; which I fhall not injure
the authors by tranfplanting; becauſe I have remarked,
that nothing is fɔ very tender as a modern piece of wit,
and which is very apt to fuffer fo much in the carriage.
Some things are extremely witty to-day, or fafting, or in
this place, or at eight a clock, or over a bottle, or ſpoke by
Mr. What d'y call' m, or in a fummer's morning; any of the
which, by the fmalleft tranfp fal or nifapplication, is
utterly annihilate. Thus, Wit has its walks and pur-
lieus, out of which it may not ftray the breadth of an
hair, upon peril of being loft. The moderns have art-
fully fixed this mercury, and reduced it to the circum-
ftances of time, place, and perfon. Such a jeft there is,
that will not pass out of Covent-garden; and fuch a
one, that is no where intelligible but at Hyde-park cor-
ner. Now, though it fometimes tenderly affects me,
to confider, that all the towardly paffages I fhall deli-
ver in the following treatife will grow quite out of date
and relish with the firft fhifting of the prefent fcene;
yet
I muſt needs fubfcribe to the juftice of this proceed-
ing; becauſe I cannot imagine why we ſhould be at ex-
pence to furnish wit for fucceeding ages, when the for-
mer have made no fort of provifion for ours: wherein
I fpeak the fentiment of the very neweft, and confe--
quently the moſt orthodox refiners, as well as my own.
However, being extremely folicitous, that every accom-
plished perfon, who has got into the taste of wit cal-
culated for this prefent month of Auguft 1697, ſhould
defcend to the very bottom of all the ſublime throughout
this treatife; I hold fit to lay down this general maxim
Whatever reader defires to have a thorough comprehen-
fion
C 3
*Hor. Something extraordinary, new, and never hit upon before.
Reading prefaces, &c.
30
A TALE OF A TU B.
fion of an author's thoughts, cannot take a better me-
thod, than by putting himſelf into the circumftances and
poſtures of life, that the writer was in upon every im-
portant paffage, as it flowed from his pen: for this will
introduce a parity and strict correfpondence of ideas
between the reader and the author. Now, to affift the
diligent reader in fo delicate an affair, as far as brevity
will permit, I have recollected, that the fhrewdeft pieces
of this treatife were conceived in bed, in a garret.
At
other times, for a reafon best known to myſelf, I
thought fit to fharpen my invention with hunger; and,
in general, the whole work was begun, continued, and
ended, under a long courſe of phyſick, and a great want
of money. Now, I do affirm, it will be abfolutely im-
poffible for the candid perufer to go along with me in a
great many bright paffages, unleſs, upon the feveral dif-
ficulties emergent, he will pleaſe to capacitate and pre-
pare himſelf by thefe directions. And this I lay down
as my principal poftulatum.
Becauſe I have profeffed to be a moſt devoted fervant
of all modern forms, I apprehend fome curious wit may
object against me, for proceeding thus far in a preface,
without declaiming, according to the cuftom, against
the multitude of writers; whereof the whole multitude
of writers moft reafonably complain. I am just come
from perufing fome hundreds of prefaces, wherein the
authors do at the very beginning addrefs the gentle reader
concerning this enormous grievance. Of thefe I have
preferved a few examples, and fhall fet 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 prefs fwarms
with, &c.
Another :
The tax upon paper does not leffen the number of ſcribblers,
who daily peſter, &c.
Another :
When every little would-be-wit takes pen in hand, 'tis in
vain to enter the lifts, &c.
Another:
To obferve what trash the prefs fwarms with, &c.
Another :
THE PREFACE.
31
Another:
Sir, It is merely in obedience to your commands, that I
venture into the public; for who, upon a lejs confideration,
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 num-
ber of writers a nuifance to our nation, having ftrenu-
oufly maintained the contrary in feveral parts of the fol-
lowing diſcourſe. Secondly, I do not well underſtand
the juftice of this proceeding; becauſe I obferve many
of thefe polite prefaces to be not only from the fame
hand, but from thofe who are moſt voluminous in their
feveral productions. Upon which I fhall tell the reader
a fhort tale..
A mountebank, in Leiceſter-fields, had drawn a huge
affembly about him. Among the reit, a fat unwieldy
fellow, half ſtifled in the prefs, would be every fit crying
out, Lord! what a filthy croud is here? Pray, good
people, give way a little. Blefs me! what a devil has
raked this rabble together! Z-ds, what ſqueezing is
this! Honest friend, remove your elbow. At laft, a
weaver, that ſtood next him, could hold no longer: A
plague confound you (faid he) for an overgrown floven;
and who, in the devil's name, I wonder, helps to make
up the croud half ſo much as yourfelf? Don't you.con-
fider, with a pox, that you take up more room with that
carcafe than any five here? Is not the place as free for
us as for you? Bring your own guts to a reaſonable com-
pafs, 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; particularly, that, where I am not understood,
it fhall be concluded, that fomething very uſeful and
profound is couched underneath; and again, that what-
ever word or fentence is printed in a different character,
fhall be judged to contain fomething extraordinary either
of wit or fublime.
As for the liberty I have thought fit to take of prai
fing myſelf, upon fome occafions or none; I am fure it
will need no excufe, if a multitude of great examples be
allowed fufficient authority. For it is here to be noted,
that
32
A TALE OF A TU B.
that praife was originally a penfion paid by the world:
but the moderns, finding the trouble and charge too great
in collecting it, have lately bought out the fee fimple;
fince which time, the right of preſentation is wholly in
ourfelves. For this reafon it is, that when an author
makes his own elogy, he uſes a certain form to declare
and infift upon his title; which is commonly in thefe or
the like words, Ifpeak without vanity: which I think
plainly fhews it to be a matter of right and juſtice.
Now, I do here once for all declare, that in every en-
counter of this nature, through the following treatiſe,
the form aforefaid is implied; which I mention, to ſave
the trouble of repeating it on fo many occafions.
*
It is a great cafe to my confcience, that I have written
fo elaborate and uſeful a difcourfe without one grain of
fatire intermixed; which is the fole point wherein I
have taken leave to diffent from the famous originals of
our age and country. I have obſerved fome fatiriſts to
ufe the public, much at the rate that pedants do a
naughty boy ready horfed for difcipline: firft, expoftu-
late the cafe, then plead the neceffity of the rod, from
great provocations, and conclude every period with a
laſh. Now, if I know any thing of mankind, theſe
gentlemen might very well fpare their reproof and cor-
rection for there is not, through all nature, another ſo
callous and infenfible a member as the world's pofteriors,
whether you apply to it the toe or the birch. Beſides,
most of our late fatyrifts feem to lie under a fort of
mistake, that because nettles have the prerogative to
fting, therefore all other weeds muſt do ſo too. I make
not this compariſon out of the leaft defign to detract
from thefe worthy writers: for it is well known among
mythologifts, that weeds have the preheminence over all
other vegetables; and therefore the first monarch of this
iſland, whoſe taſte and judgment were fo acute and
refined, did very wifely root the roses from the col-
lar of the order, and plant the thistles in their ftead, as
the nobler flower of the two. For which reafon it is
conjectured by profounder antiquaries, that the fatirical
itch, fo 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 furvive and neglect
the
THE PREFACE.
33
the fcorn of the world, with as much eaſe and contempt
as the world is infenfible to the lafhes of it. May their
own dulnefs, or that of their party, be no difcourage-
ment for the authors to proceed; but let them remem-
ber, it is with wits as with razors, which are never fo
apt to cut thofe they are employed on, as when they
have lost their edge. Befides, thofe, whofe teeth are too
rotten to bite, are beft of all others qualified to revenge
that defect with their breath.
I am not, like other men, to envy or undervalue the
talents I cannot reach; for which reafon I muft needs
bear a true honour to this large eminent fect of our Bri-
tish writers. And I hope, this little panegyric will not
be offenfive to their ears, fince it has the advantage of
being only defigned for themfelves. Indeed, Nature
herfelf has taken order, that fame and honour ſhould be
purchaſed at a better pennyworth by fatire, than by any
other productions of the brain; the world being fooneft
provoked to praiſe by tafbes, as men are to love. There
is a problem in an ancient author, why dedications,
and other bundles of flattery, run all upon ftale mufty
topics, without the fmalleft tincture of any thing new;
not only to the torment and naufeating of the Chriftian
reader, but, if not fuddenly prevented, to the univer-
fal fpreading of that peftilent diſeaſe, the lethargy, in
this island whereas there is very little fatire which
has not fomething in it untouched before. The defects
of the former are ufually imputed to the want of in-
vention among thoſe who are dealers in that kind; but,
I think, with a great deal of injuftice; the folution be-
ing eafy and natural. For the materials of panegyric,
being very few in number, have been long fince exhauft-
ed. For as health is but one thing, and has been always
the fame; whereas diſeaſes are by thouſands, befides
new and daily additions: fo all the virtues that have
been ever in mankind, are to be counted upon a few
fingers; but his follies and vices are innumerable, and
time adds hourly to the heap. Now, the utmoſt a
poor poet can do, is to get by heart a lift of the cardi-
nal virtues, and deal them with his utmoft 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
C5
round;
34
A TALE OF A TUB.
round: but the reader quickly finds it is all pork, * with
a little variety of fauce. For there is no inventing terms
of art beyond our ideas; and when our ideas are ex-
hauſted, terms of art muſt be ſo too.
But though the matter for panegyric were as fruitful
as the topics of fatire, yet would it not be hard to find
out a fufficient reafon, why the latter will be always
better received than the first. For this being beſtowed
only upon one, or a few perfons at a time, is fure to
raiſe envy, and confèquently ill words, from the rest,
who have no ſhare in the bleffing. But fatire, being le-
velled at all, is never refented for an offence by any;
fince every individual perfon makes bold to underſtand
it of others, and very wifely removes his particular part
of the burthen upon the fhoulders of the world, which
are broad enough, and able to bear it. To this pur-
pofe, I have fometimes reflected upon the difference be-
tween Athens and England with refpect to the point be-
fore us. In the Attic commonwealth, it was the pri-
vilege and birthright of every citizen and poet, to rail
aloud, and in public, or to expofe upon the ftage by
name, any perfon they pleafed, though of the greatelt
figure, whether a Creon, an Hyperbolus, an Alcibiades,
or a Demofthenes. But, on the other fide, the least re-
flecting word let fall against the people in general, was
immediately caught up, and revenged upon the authors,
however confiderable for their quality or their merits.
Whereas in England it is juſt the reverfe of all this.
Here, you may fecurely diſplay your utmoſt rhetoric a-
gainſt mankind, in the face of the world; tell them,
That all are gone aftray; 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
bonefty is fled with Aftree; with any other common
places, equally new and eloquent, which are furniſhed
by the fplendida bilis. And when you have done, the
whole audience, far from being offended, fhall return
you thanks, as a deliverer of precious and uſeful truths.
Nay farther, it is but to venture your lungs, and you
may preach in Covent-garden againſt foppery and for-
nication,
• Plutarch. I vid. Xenoph. ↑ Hor. Spleen,
THE PREFACE.
35
nication, and fomething elſe; againſt pride, and diffimu-
lation, and bribery, at White-hall: you may expofe
rapine and injuſtice in the inns of court chapel; and in a
city-pulpit, be as fierce as you pleaſe againſt avarice, hy-
pocrify, and extortion. It is but a ball bandied to and
fro, and every man carries a racket about him to ſtrike it
from himſelf among the rest of the company. But, on
the other fide, whoever fhould miſtake the nature of
things fo far, as to drop but a fingle hint in public, how
Such a one ſtarved half the fleet, and half-poiſoned the
reft; 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 got a clap, and runs out of his eltate; how
Paris, bribed by Juno and Venus, * loth to offend either
party, flept out the whole cauſe on the bench; or, how
Such an orator makes long fpeeches in the fenate with
much thought, little fenfe, and to no purpoſe: whoever,
I fay, ſhould venture to be thus particular, muft expect
to be imprisoned for fcandalum magnatum; to have chal-
lenges fent him; to be fued for defamation; and to be
brought before the bar of the house.
But I forget that I am expatiating on a ſubject where-
in I have no concern, having neither a talent nor an
inclination for fatire! On the other fide, I am fo entirely
fatisfied with the whole prefent procedure of human
things, that I have been fome years preparing materials
towards A panegyric upon the world, to which I intended
to add a fecond part, intitled, A modest defence of the pro-
ceedings of the rabble in all ages. Both thefe I had thoughts
to publiſh, by way of appendix to the following trea-
tife; but, finding my common-place book fill much flower
than I had reaſon to expect, I have chofen to defer them
to another occafion. Befides, I have been unhappily
prevented in that defign by a certain domeftic misfor-
ture in the particulars whereof, though it would be
very feaſonable, and much in the modern way, to inform
the gentle reader, and would alſo be of great affiftance
towards
Juno and Venus, are money and a mistress; very powerful
bribes to a judge, if fcandal fays true. I remember fuch reflections
were cat about that time, but I cannot fix the perfon intended here.
36
A TALE OF A TUB.
towards extending this preface into the fize now in vogue,
which by rule ought to be large, in proportion as the
fubfequent volume is fmall; yet I fhall now diſmiſs our
impatient reader from any farther attendance at the
porch; and, having duly prepared his mind by a preli-
minary difcourfe, fhall gladly introduce him to the ſub-
lime myfteries that enfue,
1
A TALE
37
A TALE OF A TU B. *
SECT. I.
The INTRODUCTION.
HOEVER hath an ambition to be heard in a
W croud, muft prefs, and ſqueeze, and thruft,
and climb, with indefatigable pains, till he has ex-
alted himſelf to a certain degree of altitude above
them. Now, in all affemblies, though you wedge
them ever fo clofe, we may obferve this peculiar
property,
*The Tale of a Tub has made much noife in the world. It was
one of Swift's earlieſt performances, and has never been excelled in
wit and ſpirit by his own, or any other pen. The cenfures that have
paffed upon it are various. The most material of which were fuch
as reflected upon Dr. Swift, in the character of a clergyman, and a
Chriſtian. It has been one of the misfortunes attending Chriftianity,
that many of her fons, from a miftaken filial piety, have indulged
themſelves in too reftrained and too melancholy a way of thinking.
Can we wonder, then, if a book compofed with all the force of wit
and humour, in derifion of facerdotal tyranny, in ridicule of grave
hypocrify, and in contempt of flegmatic ftiffness, fhould be wilfully
mifconftrued by fome perfons, and ignorantly miſtaken by others, as
a ſarcaſm and reflection upon the whole Chriſtian church? Swift's
ungovernable ſpirit of irony has fometimes carried him into very
unwarrantable flights of wit. In the ftyle of truth, I muſt look up-
on the Tale of a Tub, as no intended inſult againſt Chriſtianity, but
as a fatire against the wild errors of the church of Rome, the ſlow
and incomplete reformation of the Lutherans, and the abfurd and
affected zeal of the Prefbyterians. Orrery.
|| The Introduction abounds with wit and humour. But the au-
thor never lofes the leaft opportunity of venting his keeneſt ſatire
against Mr. Dryden, and confequently loads with infults the greateft,
although the leaſt profperous, of our Engliſh poets. Yet who can a-
void ſmiling, when he finds the Hind and Panther as a complete abſtract
of fixteen thousand fiboolmen, and when Tommy Pots is fuppofed written
by the fame band, as a fupplement to the former work? I am willing to
imagine, that Dryden, in fome manner or other, had offended
Swift, who, otherwife, I hope, would have been more indulgent to
the errors of a man oppreffed by poverty, driven on by party, and
bewildered
38
A TALE OF A TUB.
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:
evadere ad auras,
Hoc opus, hic labor eft. ||
To this end, the philofopher's way in all ages has been
by erecting certain edifices in the air. But, whatever
practice and reputation thefe kinds of ftructures have for-
merly poffeffed, or may ftill continue in, not excepting
even that of Socrates, when he was fufpended in a baf-
ket to help contemplation; I think, with due fubmiflion,
they ſeem to labour under two inconveniencies. First,
That the foundations being laid too high, they have
been often out of fight, and ever out of hearing. Sc-
condly, That the materials, being very tranfitory, have
fuffered much from inclemencies of air, efpecially in
thefe north-west regions.
Therefore, towards the just performance of this great
work, there remain but three methods that I can think
on; whereof the wifdom of our anceſtors being highly
fenfible, has, to encourage all afpiring adventurers,
thought fit to erect three wooden machines for the
ufe of thofe orators, who defire to talk much without
interruption. Theſe are, the pulpit, the ladder, and
the ftage itinerant. For, as to the bar, though it be
compounded of the fame matter, and defigned for the
fame ufe, it cannot however be well' allowed the ho-
nour of a fourth, by reafon of its level or inferior fitua-
tion, expofing it to perpetual interruption from collate-
rals. Neither can the bench itſelf, though raiſed to a
proper eminency, put in a better claim, whatever its
advocates
bewildered by religion-But although our fatirical author, now and
then, may have Indulged himfelf in fome perfonal animofities, or may
have taken freedoms not ſo perfectly confiftent with that folemn de-
cency which is required from a clergyman; yet, throughout the
whole piece, there is a vein of ridicule and good humour, that laughs
pedantry and affectation into the lowest degree of contempt, and ex-
poſes the character of Peter and Jack in fuch a manner, as never
will be forgiven, and never can be answered. Orrery.
But to return and view the cheerful ſkies;
In this the task and mighty labour lies.
Sect. 1.
39
THE
INTRODUCTION.
advocates infift on. For, if they pleaſe to look into the
original defign of its erection, and the circumſtances or
adjuncts fubfervient to that defign, they will foon ac-
knowledge the prefent practice exactly correfpondent to
the primitive inftitution; and both to answer the etymo-
logy of the name, which in the Phonician tongue is a
word of great fignification, importing, if literally inter-
preted, the place of fleep; but in common acceptation,
feat well bolstered and cushioned, for the repoſe of old and
gouty limbs: Senes ut in otia tuta recedant: Fortune being
indebted to them this part of retaliation, that, as for-
merly they have long talked, whilft others flept, ſo now
they may fleep as long, whilſt others talk.
But if no other argument could occur, to exclude the
bench and the bar from the lift of oratorial machines, it
were fufficient, that the admiffion of them would over-
throw a number which I was reſolved to eſtabliſh, what-
ever argument it might coft me; in imitation of that
prudent method obferved by many other philofophers
and great clerks, whofe chief art in divifion has been
to grow fond of fome proper myſtical number, which
their imaginations have rendered facred, to a degree,
that they force common reaſon to find room for it in
every part of nature; reducing, including, and adjuſt-
ing every genus and Species, within that compafs, by cou-
pling fome against their wills, and banishing others at
any rate.
Now, among all the reft, the profound num-
ber THREE is that which hath most employed my
fublimeft fpeculations, nor ever without wonderful de-
light. There is now in the prefs, and will be publiſhed
next term, a panegyrical eſſay of mine upon this num-
ber; wherein I have, by moft convincing proofs, not
only reduced the fenfes and the clements under its banner,
but brought over feveral deferters from its two great ri-
vals, SEVEN and NINE.
Now, the firſt of theſe oratorial machines in place, as
well as dignity, is the pulpit. Of pulpits there are in this
ifland feveral forts; but I efteem only that made of
timber from the fylva Caledonia, which agrees very well
with our climate. If it be upon its decay, it is the
better, both for conveyance of found, and for other rea-
fons to be mentioned by and by. The degree of per-
fection
40
A TALE OF A TU B.
fection in ſhape and fize, I take to confift in being ex-
tremely narrow, with little ornament, and beſt of all
without a cover, (for, by ancient rule, it ought to be the
only uncovered veffel in every affembly, where it is right-
fully ufed ;) by which means, from its near reſemblance
to a pillory, it will ever have a mighty influence on hu-
man ears.
Of ladders I need fay nothing. It is obferved by fo-
reigners themſelves, to the honour of our country, that
we excel all nations in our practice and underſtanding of
this machine. The afcending orators do not only oblige
their audience in the agreeable delivery, but the whole
world in the early publication of their fpecches; which
I look upon as the choiceft treaſury of our Britiſh elo-
quence, and whereof, I am informed, that worthy
citizen and bookfeller, Mr. John Dunton, hath made a
faithful and a painful collection, which he fhortly de-
figns to publish in twelve volumes in folio, illuftrated with
copper-plates: A work highly uſeful and curious, and
altogether worthy of fuch a hand.
The laft engine of orators is the ſtage-itinerant, * erect-
ed with much fagacity, Sub Jove pluvio, in triviis et
quadriviis. I It is the great feminary of the two former,
and its orators are fometimes preferred to the one, and
fometimes to the other, in proportion to their deferv-
ings, there being a ſtrict and perpetual intercourfe be-
tween all three.
From this accurate deduction it is manifeft, that for
obtaining attention in public, there is of neceflity re-
quired a fuperior pofition of place. But although this
point be generally granted, yet the caufe is little agreed
in; and it feems to me, that very few philofophers have
fallen into a true, natural folution of this phænomenon.
The deepeſt account, and the moft fairly digefted of any
I have yet met with, is this, That air being a heavy
body, and therefore, according to the fyftem of Epicu
rus, continually defcending, muft needs be more fo,
when loaden and preſſed down by words; which are al-
fo
* Is the mountebank's stage, whofe orators the author determines
either to the gallows or á conventicle.
In the open air, and in streets where the greateſt reſort is.
Lucret. lib. 2,
Sect. 1.
THE INTRODUCTION, t
fo bodies of much weight and gravity, as it is manifeft
from thoſe deep impreſſions they make and leave upon us;
and therefore must be delivered from a due altitude, or
elfe they will neither carry a good aim, nor fall down
with a fufficient force.
Corpoream quoque enim vocem conftare fatendum eft,
Et fonitum, quoniam poſſunt impellere fenfus.
Lucr. lib. 4,
And I am the readier to favour this conjecture, from a
common obfervation, that, in the feveral affemblies of
theſe orators, nature itſelf hath inftructed the hearers to
ſtand with their mouths open, and erected parallel to
the horizon, ſo as they may be interfected by a perpen-
dicular line from the zenith to the centre of the earth.
In which poſition, if the audience be well compact,
every one carries home a fhare, and little or nothing is
loft.
I confefs, there is fomething yet more refined in the
contrivance and ſtructure of our modern theatres. For,
firſt, the pit is funk below the ſtage, with due regard to
the inftitution above deduced; that whatever weighty
matter ſhall be delivered thence, whether it be lead or
gold, may fall plum into the jaws of certain critics, as I
think they are called, which ſtand ready opened to de-
vour them. Then, the boxes are built round, and raif-
ed to a level with the fcene, in deference to the ladies;
becauſe that large portion of wit, laid out in raifing
pruriences and protuberances, is obſerved to run much
upon line, and ever in a circle. The whining paf-
fions, and little ftarved 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. Bombaftry and buffoonry, by nature
lofty and light, foar higheft of all; and would be loft in
the roof, if the prudent architect had not with much
forefight contrived for them a fourth place, called the
twelve-penny gallery, and there planted a fuitable colony,
who greedily intercept them in their paffage.
* 'Tis certain then, that voice, that thus can wound,
Is all material; body every found.
Now,
42
A TALE OF A TUB.
}
Now, this phyfico-logical ſcheme of oratorial recep-
tacles or machines, contains a great mystery; being a
type, a fign, an emblem, a fhadow, a fymbol, bearing
analogy to the fpacious commonwealth of writers, and
to thoſe methods by which they muft exalt themſelves
to a certain eminency above the inferior world. By the
pulpit are adumbrated the writings of our modern jaints
in Great Britain, as they have fpiritualiſed and refined
them from the drofs and groffness of fenfe and human
reaſon. The matter, as we have ſaid, is of rotten wood;
and that upon two confiderations; becauſe it is the
quality of rotten wood to give light in the dark and,
fecondly, becauſe its cavities are full of worms; which
is a type with a pair of handles, I having a respect to
the two principal qualifications of the orator, and the
two different fates attending upon his works.
:
The ladder is an adequate fymbol of faction, and of
poetry; to both of which fo noble a number of authors
are indebted for their fame. Of faction, becauſe *
濒
​*
*
*
*
*
||
Hiatus in
MS.
* of poetry,
because its orators do perorare with a fong; and, be-
caufe, climbing up by flow degrees, Fate is fure to turn
them off before they can reach within many fteps of the
top; and becauſe it is a preferment attained by transfer-
ring of property, and a confounding of meum and tuum.
Under the Stage-itinerant are couched thoſe produc-
tions defigned for the pleaſure and delight of mortal
man; fuch as Sixpenny-worth of wit, Westminster drol-
leries, Delightful tales, Complete jeſters, and the like; by
which the writers of and for GRUB-STREET have
in
The two principal qualifications of a fanatic preacher, are, his
inward light, and his head full of maggots; and the two different
fates of his writings are, to be burnt or worm eaten.
Here is pretended a defect in the manufcripts; and this is very
frequent with our author, cither when he thinks he cannot fay any
thing worth reading; or when he has no mind to enter on the fub-
ject; or when it is a matter of little moment; or perhaps to amuſe.
his reader, whereof he is frequently very fond; or, laſtly, with fome
fatirical intention.
Sect. I.
43
THE INTRODUCTION.
in theſe latter ages fo nobly triumphed over Time; have
clipped his wings, pared his nails, filed his teeth, turned
back his hour-glafs, blunted his fcithe, and drawn the
hobnails out of his fhoes. It is under this claſs I have
prefumed to lift my prefent treatife, being juft come
from having the honour conferred upon me, to be adopt-
ed a member of that i luſtrious fraternity.
Now, I am not unaware, how the productions of the
Grub-street brotherhood have of late years fallen under
many prejudices; nor how it has been the perpetual
employment of two junior ſtart-up focieties, to ridicule
them and their authors, as unworthy their eftabliſhed
poft in the commonwealth of wit and learning. Their
own confciences will eafily inform them, whom I mean.
Nor has the world been fo negligent a looker-on, as not
to obferve the continual efforts made by the focieties of
Greſhain and of Will's † to edify a name and repu-
tation upon the ruin of OURS. And this is yet a more
feeling grief to us, upon the regards of tenderneſs as
well as of juftice, when we reflect on their proceedings
not only as unjuft, but as ungrateful, undutiful, and
unnatural. For how can it be forgot by the world, or
themſelves, to fay nothing of our own records, which
are full and clear in the point, that they both are femi-
naries, not only of our planting, but our watering toọ?
I am informed, our two rivals have lately made an
offer to enter into the lifts with united forces, and chal-
lenge us to a comparifon of books, both as to weight
and number. In return to which, with licence from
our prefident, I humbly offer two anfwers. First, we
fay, the propofal is like that which Archimedes made
upon a ſmaller affair, ‡ including an impoffibility in the
practice; for where can they find fcales of capacity enough
for the first, or an arithmetician of capacity enough for
the fecond? Secondly, we are ready to accept the
challenge; but with this condition, that a third indif-
ferent
* Gresham college was the place where the Royal fociety then
met, from whence they removed to Crane court in Fleet-ſtreet.
+ Will's coffeehouse in Covent-garden was formerly the place where
the poets ufually met; which, though it be yet fresh in memory, in
fome years may be forgotten, and want this explanation,
il. About moving the earth.
44
A TALE OF A TU B.
ferent perfon be affigned, to whofe impartial judgment
it fhould be left to decide, which fociety each book, trea-
tife, or pamphlet, do moft properly belong to. This
point, God knows, is very far from being fixed at pre-
fent: for we are ready to produce a catalogue of fome
thouſands, which in all common juftice ought to be in-
titled to our fraternity, but by the revolted and new-
fangled writers moſt perfidiouſly afcribed to the others.
Upon all which, we think it very unbecoming our pru-
dence, that the determination ſhould be remitted to the
authors themſelves; when our adverfaries, by briguing
and caballing, have cauſed ſo univerfal a defection from
us, that the greateſt part of our fociety hath already de-
ferted to them, and our nearest friends begin to ſtand
aloof, as if they were half-aſhamed to own us.
This is the utmoſt I am authoriſed to ſay, upon ſo un-
grateful and melancholy a ſubject; becauſe we are ex-
tremely unwilling to inflame a controverfy, whofe conti-
nuance may be fo fatal to the interefts of us all; defiring
much rather that things be amicably compofed: and we
fhall fo far advance on our fide, as to be ready to receive
the two prodigals with open arms, whenever they fhall
think fit to return from their bufks and their harlots
which, I think, from the prefent courfe of their ſtudies,‡
they moſt properly may be faid to be engaged in; and,
like an indulgent parent, continue to them our affection
and our blefling.
But the greateſt maim given to that general reception
which the writings of our fociety have formerly received,
(next to the tranfitory ftate of all fublunary things,)
hath been a ſuperficial vein among many readers of the
prefent age, who will by no means be perfuaded to in-
ſpect beyond the ſurface and the rind of things: Where-
as, wifdom is a fox, who, after long hunting, will at
laft cost you the pains to dig out: it is a cheeje, which,
by how much the richer, has the thicker, the homelier,
and the coarfer coat; and whereof, to a judicious
palate, the maggots are the beft: it is a jack-poffct, where-
in the deeper you go, you will find it the fweeter.
Wisdom is a hen, whofe cackling we muft value and con-
Virtuofo experiments, and modern comedies.
fider,
Sect. I.
45
THE INTRODUCTION.
fider, becauſe it is attended with an egg. But, then,
laftly, it is a nut, which, unless you chufe with judg-
ment, may coft you a tooth, and pay you with nothing
but a worm. In confequence of thefe momentous truths,
the Grubæan fages have always chofen to convey their
precepts and their arts fhut up within the vehicles of
types and fables; which having been perhaps more care-
ful and curious in adorning, than was altogether necef-
fary it has fared with thefe vehicles, after the ufual fate of
coaches over-finely painted and gilt, that the tranfitory
gazers have to dazzled their eyes, and filled their imagi-
nations with the outward luftre, as neither to regard or
confider the perfon or the parts of the owner within: A
misfortune we undergo with fomewhat lefs reluctancy,
becauſe it has been common to us with Pythagoras,
Efop, Socrates, and other of our predeceffors."
However, that neither the world nor ourſelves, may
any longer fuffer by fuch mifunderstandings, I have been
prevailed on, after much importunity from my friends,
to travel in a complete and laborious differtation upon
the prime productions of our fccicty; which, befides their
beautiful externals for the gratification of fuperficial
readers, have darkly and deeply couched under them the
moſt finiſhed and refined fyflems of all fciences and arts;
as I do not doubt to lay open by untwifling or unwind-
ing, and either to draw up by exantlation, or difplay by
incifion.
This great work was entered upon fome years ago by
one of our molt eminent members. He began with the
history of Reynard the fox; but neither lived to pub-
lifh his effay, nor to proceed farther in fo ufeful an at-
tempt; which is very much to be lamented, becauſe the
diſcovery he made, and communicated with his friends,
is now univerfally received; nor do I think, any of the
learned will diſpute that famous treatrife to be a com-
plete body of civil knowledge, and the revelation, or ra-
ther the apocalypfe of all ſtate arcana. But the progreſs
I have made is much greater, having already finiſhed my
annotations
The author feems here to be mistaken; for I have feen a Latin
edition of Reynard the fox above a hundred years old, which I take
to be the original; for the reft, it has been thought by many people
to contain fome fatirical defign in it.
46
A TALE OF A TUB.
annotations upon ſeveral dozens; from fome of which I
fhall impart a few hints to the candid reader, as far as
will be neceffary to the conclufion at which I aim.
The firft piece I have handled, is that of Tom Thumb,
whofe author was a Pythagorean philofopher. This
dark treatiſe contains the whole fcheme of the metem-
pfychofis, deducing the progress of the foul through all
her ſtages.
*
The next is Dr Faustus, penned by Artephius, an au-
thor bonæ notæ, and an adeptus. He publifhed it in the
nine-hundred.h-eighty-fourth year of his age. This
writer proceeds wholly by reincrudation, or in the via
humida: and the marriage between Fauftus and Helen
does moſt conſpicuouſly dilucidate the fermenting of the
male and female dragon.
Whittington and his cat is the work of that myſterious
Rabbi, Jenuda Hannafi; containing a defence of the
Gemara of the Jerufalem Mifna, I and its juft preference
to that of Babylon, contrary to the vulgar opinion.
The Hind and Panther. This is the mafter-piece of a
famous writer now living, || intended for a complete ab-
ftract of fixteen thouſand ſchoolmen from Scotus to
Bellarmin.
Tommy Pots. Another piece fuppofed by the fame
hand, by way of fupplement to the former.
The wife men of Goatham, cum appendice. This is a
treatife of immenfe erudition; being the great original
and fountain of thofe arguments, bandied about both in
France and England, for a juft defence of the moderns
learning and wit againft the prefumption, the pride, and
ignorance of the ancients. This unknown author hath
fo exhauſted the fubject, that a penetrating reader will
eafily diſcover whatever hath been written fince upon
that difpute to be little more than repetition. An
abſtract
*The chymifts fay of him in their books, that he prolonged his
life to a thousand years, and then died voluntarily. Hawkef.
The Gemara is the decifion, explanation, or interpretation of
the Jewish rabbies: and the Mifua is properly the code or body of the
Jewish civil or common law. Hawkef.
I viz. in 1698.
Sect. 1.
47
THE INTRODUCTION.
abſtract of this treatiſe hath been lately publiſhed by a
worthy member of our fociety.
*
Thefe notices may ferve to give the learned reader an
idea, as well as a tafte, of what the whole work is likely
to produce; wherein I have now altogether circum-
fcribed my thoughts and my ftudies; and, if I can bring
it to a perfection before I die, fhall reckon I have well
employed the poor remains of an unfortunate life. †
This indeed is more than I can juſtly expect from a quill
worn to the pith in the fervice of the ſtate, in pro's and
con's upon Popish plots, and meal-tubs, ‡ and exclufion-bills,
and paffive obedience, and addreſſes of lives and fortunes ;
and prerogative, and property, and liberty of confcience,
and letters to a friend: from an understanding and a con-
fcience thread-bare and ragged with perpetual turning;
from a head broken in a hundred places by the malig-
nants of the oppofite factions; and from a body ſpent
with poxes ill cured, by truiting to bawds and furgeons,
who, as it afterwards appeared, were profeffed enemies
to me and the government, and revenged their party's
quarrel upon my nofe and fhins. Fourfcore and eleven
pamphlets have I written under three reigns, and for the
fervice of fix and thirty factions. But, finding the
flate has no farther occafion for me and my ink, I retire
willingly to draw it out into fpeculations more becoming
a philofopher; having, to my unſpeakable comfort, paf-
fed a long life with a confcience void of offence.
+
But to return: I am affured from the reader's candor,
that the brief fpecimen I have given, will eaſily clear
all the rest of our fociety's productions from an afper-
fion grown, as it is manifeft, out of envy and igno-
rance, That they are of little farther ufe or value to
mankind beyond the common entertainments of their
wit and their ftyle; for thefe I am fure have never yet
been
This I fuppofe to be underfood of Mr. Wotton's difcourfe of
ancient and modern learning.
+ Here the author feems to perfonate L'Etrange, Dryden, and
fome others, who, after having paffed their lives in vices, faction,
and falsehood, have the impudence to talk of merit, and innocence,
and fufferings.
In King Charles II.'s time, there was an account of a Preſbyteri-
an plot, found in a tub, which then made much noiſe.
48
A TALE OF A TUB.
been diſputed by our kecneft adverfaries: in both which
as well as the more profound and myſtical part, I have
throughout this treatife clofely followed the moſt ap-
plauded originals. And to render all complete, I have,
with much thought and application of mind, fo ordered,
that the chief title prefixed to it, I mean, that under
which I deſign it fhall pass in the common converſations
of court and town, is modelled exactly after the manner
peculiar to our fociety.
ተ
I confefs to have been ſomewhat liberal in the buſineſs
of titles, having obferved the humour of multiplying
them to bear great vogue among certain writers, whom
I exceedingly reverence. And indeed it feems not un-
reaſonable, 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 Dry-
den has ventured to proceed a point farther, endeavour-
ing to introduce alfo a multiplicity of godfathers; †
which is an improvement of much more advantage, upon
a very obvious account. It is a pity this admirable in-
vention has not been better cultivated, fo as to grow by
this time into general imitation, when fuch an authority
ferves it for a precedent. Nor have my endeavours been
wanting to fecond fo ufeful an example: but it ſeems,
there is an unhappy expence ufually annexed to the call-
ing of a godfather, 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 fplit my treatife into for-
ty ſections, and having intreated forty lords of my ac-
quaintance, that they would do me the honour to ſtand,
they all made it a matter of confcience, and fent me
their excufes.
SECT.
The title-page in the original was fo torn, that it was not poffi
ble to recover feveral titles, which the author here ſpeaks of.
+ See Virgil tranflated, &c. He dedicated the different parts of
Virgil to different patrons.
49
O
SECT. II.
NCE upon a time, there was a man who had three
fons 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
deathbed, calling the lads to him, fpoke thus,
Sons, Becauſe I have purchaſed no eftate, nor was born to
any, I have long confidered of fome good legacies to bequeath
you; and at last, with much care as well as expence, have
provided each of you (here they are) a new coat. † Now,
you are to understand, that theſe coats have two virtues con-
tained in them. One is, that, with good wearing, they will
last you fresh and found as long as you live. The other is, that
they will grow in the fame proportion with your bodies,
lengthening and widening of themselves, ſo as to be always fit.
Here, let me fee them on you before I die. So, very well
pray, children, wear them clean, and bruſh them often. You
will find in my will (here it is) full inftructions in every
particular concerning the wearing and management of your
coats; wherein you must be very exact, to avoid the penaltics
I have appointed for every tranfgreffion or neglect, upon
which your future fortunes will entirely depend. I have al-
fo commanded in my will, that you should live together in one
houſe like brethren and friends; for then you will be fure to
thrive, and not otherwife.
VOL. I.
D
Here,
By thefe three fons, Peter, Martin, and Jack; Popery, the
Church of England, and our Proteftant Diffenters are defigned. W.
Votton.
In the character of Peter, we fee the Pope, ferted on his pontifical
throne, and adorned with his triple crown. In the picture of Mar-
tin, we view Luther and the first reformers. And in the defcription
of Jack, we behold John Calvin and his difciples. The author's
arrows are chiefly directed against Peter and Jack. To Martin he
hews all the indulgence that the laws of allegory will permit. Orrery.
By his coats, which he gave his fons, the garments of the Ifrae-
IV. Wotton.
lites.
An eiror (with fubmiffion) of the learned commentator; for by
the coats are meant the doctrine and faith of Chriſtianity, by the
wiſdom of the divine founder, fitted to all times, places, and cir-
cumftances. Lambin.
I The New Testament,
"
50
A TALE OF A TUB.
Here, the story fays, this good father died, and the
three fons went all together to feek their fortunes
I ſhall not trouble you with recounting what adven-
tures they met for the firft feven years, any farther than
by taking notice, that they carefully obferved their fa-
ther's will, and kept their coats in very good order
that they travelled through feveral countries, encoun-
tered a reaſonable quantity of giants, and flew certain
dragons.
Being now arrived at the proper age for producing
themſelves, they came up to town, and fell in love with
the ladies; but eſpecially three, who about that time
were in chief reputation; the Duchefs d' Argent, Ma-
dame de Grands Titres, and the Countefs d'Orgueil. I
On their first appearance, our three adventurers met with
a very bad reception; and foon with great fagacity
gueffing out the reafon, they quickly began to improve
in the good qualities of the town. They writ, and
rallied, and rhymed, and fung, and faid, and faid no-
thing; they drank, and fought, and whored, and flept,
and fwore, and took fnuff; they went to new plays on
the first night, haunted the chocolate-houfes, beat the
watch, lay on bulks, and got claps; they bilked hack-
ney-coachmen, ran in debt with fhopkeepers, and lay
with their wives; they killed bailiffs, kicked fidlers
down ftairs, eat at Locket's, loitered at Will's; they
talked of the drawing-room, and never came there;
dined with lords they never faw; whispered a duchefs,
and ſpoke never a word; expofed the fcrawls of their
laundrefs for billetdoux of quality; came ever juſt
from court, and were never ſeen in it; attended the levee
fub dio; got a lift of peers by heart in one company, and
with great familiarity retailed them in another. Above
all, they conſtantly attended thofe committees of fena-
tors, who are filent in the house, and loud in the coffeehouſe ;
where they nightly adjourn to chew the cud of poli-
tics; and are encompaffed with a ring of difciples,
who lie in wait to catch up their droppings. The
three
Their mistreffes are, the Duchefs d'Argent, Mademoiſelle de
Grands Titres, and the Counteſs d'Orgueil; i. e. covetouſneſs, am-
bition, and pride; which were the three great vices that the ancient
fathers inveighed against, as the firft corruptions of Chriſtianity.
W. Wotton,
A TALE OF A TUB.
51
three brothers had acquired forty other qualifications of
the like ftamp, too tedious to recount, and, by confe-
quence, were juſtly reckoned the moft accompliſhed per-
fons in the town. But all would not fuffice, and the la-
dics aforefaid continued ftill inflexible. To clear up
which difficulty, I muft, with the reader's good leave
and patience, have recourfe to fome points of weight,
which the authors of that age have not fufficiently illuf
trated.
For about this time it happened, a fect arofe, whoſe
tenets obtained and fpread very far, efpecially in the
grand monde, and among every body of good faſhion. ||
They worshipped a fort of idol, † who, as their doc-
trine delivered, did daily create men by a kind of ma-
nufactory operation. This idol they placed in the high-
eft parts of the houſe, on an altar erected about three
foot. He was fhewn in the poſture of a Perſian Empe-
ror, fitting on a fuperficies, with his legs interwoven un-
der him. This god had a goofe for his enfign; whence
it is, that fome learned men pretend to deduce his origi-
nal from Jupiter Capitolinus. At his left hand, beneath
the altar, hell feemed 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 or
fubftance, and fometimes whole limbs already enliven-
ed; which that horrid gulf infatiably fwallowed, terri-
ble to behold. The goofe was alſo held a fubaltern di-
vinity, or deus minorum gentium; before whofe fhrine was
facrificed that creature, whofe hourly food is human
gore, and who is in fo great renown abroad for being the
delight and favourite of the Egyptian Cercopithecus.‡
Millions of thefe animals were cruelly flaughtered eve-
ry day, to appeale the hunger of that confuming deity.
The chief idol was also worshipped as the inventor of
the yard and reedle; whether as the god of feamen, or
on account of certain other myilical attributes, hath not
been fufficiently cleared.
D 2
The
This is an occafional fatire upon drefs and faſhion, in order to
introduce what follows.
+ By this idol is meant a tailor.
very
The Egyptians worshipped a monkey; which animal is
fond of eating lice, ftyled here creatures that feed on human gore.
52
A TALE OF A TUB.
The worshippers of this deity had alio a fyftem of
their belief, which feemed to turn upon the following
fundamentals. They held the univerfe to be a large juit
of cloaths, which invests every thing. that the earth is
invested by the air; the air is invelled by the flars; and
the stars are invefted by the primum mobile. Look on this
globe of earth, you will find it to be a very complete.
and faſhionable drefs. What is that which fome call
land, but a fine coat faced with green? or the fea,
but a waiſtcoat of water-tabby? Proceed to the parti-
cular works of the creation, you will find how curious
journeyman Nature hath been, to trim up the vegetable
beaux: oberve how fparkifh a periwig adorns the head
of a beech, and what a fine doublet of white fattin is
worn by the birch. To conclude from all, what is man
himſelf but a micro-coat; || or rather a complete ſuit of
cloa hs, with all its trimmings? As to his body, there can
be no difpute. But examine even the acquirements of
his mind, you will find them all contribute in their or-
der towards furnishing out an exact drefs. To inftance
no more; is not religion a clonk; honefly a pair of
fhoes, worn out in the dirt; felf-love a furtout; vanity
a fpirt; and confcience a pair of breeches, which, though
a cover for lewdness as well as naftinefs, is cafily flipt
down for the fervice of both?
Theſe poflulata being admitted, it will follow in due
courſe of reaſoning, that thofe beings, which the world
calls improperly ſuits of cloaths, are in reality the moſt
refined fpecies of animals; or, to procced higher, that
they are rational creatures, or men For is it not mani-
feft, that they live, and move, and talk, and perform
all other offices of human life? Are not beauty and
wit, and mein, and breeding, their infeparable proper-
ties? In fhort, we fee nothing but them, hear nothing
but them. Is it not they who walk the ſtreets, fill up
parliament, coffee, play, bawdy boujes ? It is
true indeed, that theſe animals, which are vulgarly called
fuits of cloaths, or dreffes, do, according to certain
compofitions, receive different appellations. If one of
them
Alluding to the word microccfm, or a little world, as man hath
teen called by philofophers,
A TALE OF A TU B.
53
them be trimmed up with a gold chain, and a red gown,
and a white rod, and a great horfe, it is called a Lord
Mayor; if certain ermins and furs be placed in a certain
pofition, we ſtyle them a Judge; and fo, an apt con-
junction of lawn and black fattin, we intitle a Bishop
Others of theſe profeffors, though agreeing in the.
main fyftem, were yet more refined upon certain branches
of it; and held, that man was an animal compounded
of two drefes, the natural and the celeftial uit; which
were the body and the foul; that the foul was the out-
ward, and the body the inward cloathing; that the
latter was ex tradu.e. but the former of daily creation
and circumfufion. This laft they proved by ſcripture,
becauſe in them we live, and move, and have our being:
as likewife by philoſophy; becauſe they are all in all,
and all in every part. Befides, faid they, feparate thefe
two, and you will find the body to be only a ſenſeleſs
unfavoury carcale. By all which it is manifeft, that the
outward dreſs muſt needs be the foul.
To this fyftem of religion were tagged ſeveral ſubal-
tern doctrines, which were entertained with great
vogue; as, particularly, the faculties of the mind were
deduced by the learned among them in this manner.
Embroidery was ſheer wit; gold fringe was agreeable
converſation; gold lace was repartee; a huge long peri-
wig was bamour; and a coat full powder was very
gocit
* The first part of the tale, is the hiftory of Peter. Thereby Pope.
ry is expoſed. Every body knows, the Papifts have made great ad-
ditions to Chriſtianity; that indeed is the great exception which the
church of England makes againt them: accordingly Peter begins his
pranks with adding a ſhoulder-knot to his coat. W. Werten.
The actions of Peter are the actions of a man intoxicated with
pride, power, rage, tyranny, and felf conceit. Thele paffions are
placed in the moſt ridiculous light: and the effects of them produce
to us the tenets and doctrines of papal Rome, fuch as purgatorv, pe-
nance, images, ingulgen cs, auricular confeffion, tranfubitantiation,
and thofe dreadful monfters, the pontifical bulls, which, according to
this ludicrous author, derived their original from the famous bulls of
Colchis, defcribed by Ovid.
Terribiles vulius, præfixaque cornua ferro;
Pulvereumque folum pede puha vere bifulco;
J
Fum ficiffus locum mugitibus impleverë. Met. i. vi. V. 112.
54
A TALE OF A TUB,
good raillery. All which required abundance of fineffe
and delicatee to manage with advantage, as well as a
ftrict obfervance after times and faſhions.
I have, with much pains and reading, collected out of
ancient authors this fhort fummary of a body of philofo-
phy and divinity; which feems to have been compofed
by a vein and race of thinking, very different from any
other ſyſtems, either ancient or modern. And it was not
merely to entertain or fatisfy the reader's curiofity, but
rather to give him light into ſeveral circumſtances of
the following ſtory; that, knowing the ftate of difpofiti-
ons and opinions in an age fo remote, he may better
comprchend thofe great events which were the iſſue of
them. I advife therefore the courteous reader, to per-
uſe, with a world of application, again and again, what-
ever I have written upon this matter. And leaving theſe
broken ends, I carefully gather up the chief thread of my
ftory, and proceed.
Thefe opinions therefore were ſo univerſal, as well as
the practices of thein, among the refined part of court
and town, that our three brother-adventurers, as their
circumftances then flood, were ſtrangely at a lofs. For,
on the one fide, the three ladies they addreffed them-
felves to, whom we have named already, were ever at the
very top of the faſhion, and abhorred all that were below
it but the breadth of a hair. On the other fide their
father's will was very precife; and it was the main pre-
cept in it, with the greateſt penaltics annexed, not to
add to, or diminish from their coats, one thread, without
a pofitive command in the will. Now, the coats their
father had left them, were, it is true, of very good
cloth; and, befides, fo neatly fown, you would ſwear
they were all of a piece; but at the fame time very plain,
and with little or no ornament. And it happened, that,
before
His defcription of the cloth of which the coat was made, has a
farther meaning than the words may feem to import :
The coats,
"their father had left them, were of very good cloth; and, befides,
"fo neatly fown, you would ſwear they were all of a piece; but at
"the fame time very plain, with little or no ornament. This is
the diftinguishing character of the Chriftian religion. Chriftiana re-
ligio abfoluta et fimplex, was Ammianus Marcellinus's defcription of
it, who was himself a fleathen. IV". IV'otton,
A TALE OF A TU B.
55
;
before they were a month in town, great jhoulder-knots
came up: * ftraight all the world wore shoulder-knots
no approaching the ladies ruelles, without the quota of
Shoulder-knots. That fellow, cries one, has no foul; where
is his shoulder-knot? Our three brethren foon difco-
vered their want by fad experience, meeting in their
walks with forty mortifications and indignities. If they
went to the playhouse, the door-keeper fhewed them into
the twelve penny gallery. If they called a boat, fays a
waterman, I am first feuller. If they ftepped to the
Roſe to take a bottle, the drawer would cry, Friend, we
fell no ale.
If they went to vifit a lady, a footman met
them at the door, with Pray send up your message. In
this unhappy cafe they went immediately to confult their
father's will; read it over and over, but not a word of
the boulder-knot. What fhould they do? What temper
fhould they find? Obedience was abfolutely neceffary,
and yet fhoulder knots appeared extremely requifite. Af-
ter much thought, one of the brothers, who happened
to be more book-learned than the other two, ſaid, he had
found an expedient. It is true, faid he, there is nothing
bere in this will, totidem verbis, ‡ making mention of
fhoulder-knots but I dare conjecture, we may find them
inclufive, or totidem fyllabis. This diſtinction was im-
mediately approved by all; and fo they fell again to
examine. But their evil ftar had fo directed the matter,
that the firſt fyllable was not to be found in the whole
writing. Upon which difappointment, he, who found
the former evalion, took heart, and faid, Brothers, there
is yet hope; for though we cannot find them totidem ver-
bis, nor totidem fyllabis, I dare engage we shall make them
eut tertio modo, or totidem literis. This difcovery was
alfo highly commended: upon which they fell once more
to
By this is understood the first introducing of pageantry, and un-
neceffary ornaments in the church, fuch as were neither for con-
venience nor edification; as a ſhoulder-knot, in which there is nei-
ther fymmetry nor uſe.
When the Papifts cannot find any thing which they want in
fcripture, they go to oral tradition. Thus Peter is introduced difĩa -
tisfied with the tedious way of looking for all the letters of any word,
which he has occafion for in the will; when neither the conftituent
fyllables, nor much lefs the whole word, were there in terminis. Ty'.
IVotton.
56
A TALE OF A TUB.
to the fcrutiny, and picked out S, H, O, U, L, D, E, R,
when the fame planet, enemy to their repofe, had won-
derfully contrived, that a K was not to be found. Here
was a weighty difficulty! But the diftinguifhing bro-
ther, for whom we fhall hereafter find a name, now
his hand was in, proved, by a very good argument, that
K was a modern illegitimate letter, unknown to the
learned ages, nor any where to be found in ancient ma-
nuſcripts. ""Tis true" (faid he) "the word Calenda
" hath in Q. V. C. ‡ been fometimes written with a
"K; but erroneously; for in the best copies it has been
ever ſpelt with a C. And, by confequence, it was a
grofs miſtake in our language to fſpell knot with a K;
"but that from henceforward he would take care it
"fhould 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 fwaggered
with as large and as flaunting ones as the beſt.
<<
What
But as human happineſs is of a very ſhort duration, fo
in thoſe days were human faſhions, upon which it en--
tirely depends. Shoulder-knots had their time; and we
muft now imagine them in their decline: for a certain
lord came juſt from Paris, with fifty-yards of gold-lace
upon his coat, exacly trimmed after the court-fashion
of that month. In two days all mankind appeared clof-
ed up in bars of gold-lace. § Whoever durft peep abroad
without his complement of geld lace, was a fcandalous
as a, and as ill received among the women.
ſhould our three knights do in this momentous affair?
They had fufficiently trained a point already, in the af
fair of boulder-knots. Upon recourfe to the will, no-
thing appeared there but altum filentium. That of the
boulder-knots was a loofe, flying, circumftantial point;
but this of gold-lace feemed too confiderable an altera-
tion without better warrant; it did aliquo modo effentia
adhærere, and therefore required a pofitive precept. But
about this time it fell out, that the learned brother afore-
faid had read Ariftotelis dialectica; and eſpecially that
wonderful
↑ Quibuflam veteribus codicibus: Some ancient manufcripts.
I cannot tell, whether the author means any new innovation by
this word, or whether it be only to introduce the new methods of
forcing and perverting fcripture,
A TALE OF A TUB.
ST
wonderful piece de interpretatione which has the faculty
of teaching its readers to find out a meaning in every
thing but itflf; like commentators on the Revelations,
who proceed prophets without underſtanding a fyllable
of the text Brothers, faid he, you are to be informed,
that of wills duo funt genera, nuncupatory † and jcriptory.
That in the fcriptory will here before us, there is no precept
or mention about gold-lace, conceditur: but, fi idem affir-
metur de nuncupatoria, negatur. For, brothers, if yoil
remcmber, we heard a fellow fay, when we were boys, that
he heard my father's man fay, that he heard my father fay,
that he would advije his fons to get gold-lace on their coats,
as foon as ever they could procure money to buy it. By G-
that is very true, cries the other; I remember it perfectly
well, faid the third. And fo, without more ado, they
got the largest gold-lace in the parish, and walked about
as fine as lords.
A while after, there came up, all in faſhion, a pretty
fort of flame-coloured fattin ‡ for linings; and the mercer
brought a pattern of it immediately to our three gentle-
men: An' pleaſe your Worships, faid he, my Lord C—,
and Sir J. W. bad linings out of this very piece last night.
It takes wonderfully; and I shall not have a remnant left, e-
nough to make my wife a pin-cushion, by to-morrow morning
at ten a clock. Upon this they fell again to rummage
the will, becauſe the prefent cafe alfo required a poſi-
tive precept, the lining being held by orthodox writers
to be of the effence of the coat. After long fearch,
they
D5
By this is meant tradition, allowed to have equal authority with
the fcripture, or rather greater.
This is purgatory, whereef he ſpeaks more particularly here-
after; but here, only to show how fcripture was perverted to prove
it; which was done, by giving equal authority, with the canen, to
Apocrypha, called here a cocicil annexed.
It is likely the author, in every one of thefe changes in the bro-
thers dreſſes, refers to fome particular error in the church of Rome;
though it is not eafy, I think, to apply them all. But by this of fame-
coloured fattin, is manifefly intended purgatory; by gold-lace may
perhaps be understood, the lofty ornaments and plate in the churches.
The boulder-knots and filver fringe are not to obvious, at least to me.
But the Indian figures of men, women, and children, plainly relate
to the pictures in the Romith churches, of God like an old man, of
the virgin Mary, and our Saviour as a child..
58
A TALE OF A TUB.
they could fix upon nothing to the matter in hand, ex-
cept a fhort advice of their father in the will, to take
care of fire, and put out their candles before they went
to fleep. This, though a good deal for the purpoſe,
and helping very far towards ſelf-conviction, yet not
feeming wholly of force to eſtabliſh a command; (be-
ing refolved to avoid farther fcruple, as well as future
occafion for fcandal,) fays he that was the ſcholar, I re-
member to have read in wills, of a codicil annexed; which is
indeed a part of the will; and what it contains, hath equal
authority with the reft. Now, I have been confidering of
this fame will here before us; and I cannot reckon it to be
complete for want of fuch a codicil. I will therefore faßten
one in its proper place very dextrofy I have had it by mc
fome time. It was written by a dog-keeper of my grandfa-
ther's; and talks a great deal, as good luck would have it,
of this very flame-coloured fattin. The project was im-
mediately approved by the other two; an old parchment
fcroll was tagged on according to ait, in the form of a
codicil annexed, and the fattin bought and worn.
Next winter, a player, hired for the purpoſe by the
corporation of fringe-makers, acted his part in a new co-
medy, all covered with filver fringe; † and, according to
the laudable cuftom, gave rife to that fashion. Upon
which, the brothers conful.ing their father's will, to
their great aftonishment found thefe words: Item, I
charge and command my faid three fons, to wear no fort of
filver fringe upon or about their faid coats, &c. with a pc-
nalty, in cafe of difobedience, too long here to infert.
However, after fome paufe, the brother fo often menti-
oned for his erudition, who was well killed in criti-
cifins, had found in a certain author, which he ſaid
fhould be nameless, that the fame word, which in the
will is called fringe, does alfo fignify a broom-flick; § and
doubtless
That is, to take care of hell; and, in order to do that, to ſub-
due and extinguiſh their lufts.
I believe this refers to that part of the Apocrypha, where men-
tion is made of Tobit and his dog.
This is certainly the farther introducing the pomps of habit and
ornament.
§ The next fubje&t of our author's wit, is the gloffes and inter-
pretations of fcripture, very many abfurd ones of which are allowed
in the moſt authentic books of the church of Rome. W. Wotton.
A TALE OF A TUB.
59
doubtles ought to have the fame interpretation in this
paragraph. This another of the brothers diſliked, be-
caufe of that epithet filver; which could not, he humbly
conceived, in propriety of fpeech, be reaſonably applied
to a broom-flick. But it was replied upon him, that this
epithet was understood in a mythological and allegorical
fenfe. However, he objected again, why their father
ſhould forbid them to wear a broom-flick on their coats;
a caution that feemed unnatural and impertinent. Upon
which he was taken up ſhort, as one that ſpoke irreve-
rently of a mystery; which doubtlefs was very ufeful and
fignificant, but ought not to be over-curiously pried into
or nicely reaſoned upon. And, in fhort, their father's
authority being now confiderably funk, this expedient
was allowed to ferve as a lawful difpenfation for wearing
their full proportion of filver-fringe.
A while after, was revived an old fashion, long anti-
quated, of embroidery with Indian figures of men, wo-
men, and children. Here they remembered but too
well, how their father had always abhorred this faſhion;
that he made feveral paragraphs on purpofe, importing
his utter deteftation of it, and beftowing his everlaſting
curfe to his fons, whenever they fhould wear it. For
all this, in a few days, they appeared higher in the fa-
fhion than any body elfe in the town. But they folved
the matter, by faying that theſe figures were not at all
the fame with thofe that were formerly worn, and were
meant in the will. Belides, they did not wear them in
the fenfe as forbidden by their father; but as they were
a commendable cuftoin, and of great ufe to the public.
That theſe rigorous claufes in the will did therefore re-
quire fome allowance, and a favourable interpretation,
and ought to be understood cum grano falis.
But faſhions perpetually altering in that age, the fcho-
laftic brother grew weary of fearching farther evafions,
and folving everlasting contradictions. Refolved there-
fore, at all hazards, to comply with the modes of
the world, they concerted matters together, and
agreed
infant.
The images of faints, the bleed virgin, and our Saviour an
Ibid. Images in the church of Rome give him but too fair a handle,
The brothers ren: mbered, &c. The allegory here is direct, W. Wotton.
60
A TALE OF A TU B.
+
agreed unanimously, to lock up their father's will in a
Strong box, brought out of Greece or Italy, I have for-
gotten which; and trouble themfelves no farther to ex-
amine it, but only refer to its authority whenever they
thought fit. In conſequence whereof, a while after, it
grew a general mode to wear an infinite number of
points, most of them tagged with filver. Upon which, the
ſcholar pronounced ex cathedra, || that points were abſo-
lutely jure paterno, as they might very well remember.
It is true, indeed, the faſhion preſcribed fomewhat more
than were directly named in the will; however, that
they, as heirs general of their father, had power to make
and add certain claufes for public emolument, though
not deducible, totidem verbis, from the letter of the will;
or elſe multa abfurda fequerentur This was underfood
for canonical; and therefore on the following Sunday they
came to church all covered with points.
The learned brother, fo often mentioned, was reckon-
ed the belt fcholar in all that, or the next freet to it;
infomuch, as having run fomething behind-hand in
the world, he obtained the favour of a certain lord, † to
receive him into his houfe, and to teach his children. A
while after, the lord died; and h, 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 poffeflion, turned the young 'fquires out,
and received his brothers in their ftead.
أر
SECT.
The Papifts formerly for bade the people the uſe of fcripture in
a vulgar tongue; Peter therefore locks up his father's will in a ftrerg
box, brought out of Greece or Italy. Thefe countries are named, be-
cauſe the New Teftament is written in Greek; and the vulgar La-
tin, which is the authentic edition of the Bible in the church of
Rome, is in the language of old Italy. W. Wotton.
|| The Popes in their decretals and bulls, have given their fan&ion
to very many gainful doctrines, which are now received in the church
of Rome, that are not mentioned in fripture, and are unknown to
the primitive church. Peter acordingly pronounces ex cathedra,
that points tagged with filver were abfolutely jure paterno; and ſo they
wore them in great numbers. IV. Wotton.
This was Conftantine the Great, from whom the Popes pretend
a donation of St. Peter's patrimony, which they have been never
able to produce.
§ Ibid. The biſhops of Rome enjoyed their privileges in Rome at
first
Sect. 3.
6₂
A digreſſion concerning critics.
A
SECT. III.
A digreffion concerning critics. *
to should,
Lthough I have bee hitherto as cautious as I could,
upon all occafions, molt nicely to follow the rules
and methods of writing laid down by the example of
our illuftrious moderns; yet has the unhappy fhortness of
my memory led me into an error, from which I muſt ex-
tricate myself, before I can decently purfue my princi-
pal fubject. I confefs with fhame, it was an unpardon-
able omiflion to proceed fo far as I have already done,
before I had performed the due difcourfes, expoftula-
tory, fupplicatory, or deprecatory, with my good lords
the critics. Towards fome atonement for this grievous
neglect, I do here make humbly bold to prefent them
with a fhort account of themselves and their art, by
looking into the original and pedigree of the word as it
is generally understood among us, and very briefly con-
fidering the ancient and prefent ſtate thereof.
By the word critic, at this day fo frequent in all con-
verfations, there have fometimes been diftinguifhed three.
very different fpecies of mortal men, according as I have
read in ancient books and pamphlets. For, first, by this
term was underſtood fuch perfons as invented or drew
up rules for themselves and the world; by obferving
which, a careful reader might be able to pronounce up-
on the productions of the learned, form his tafte to a
true relifh of the fublime and the admirable, and divide
every beauty of ma.ter or of ftyle from the corruption.
that apes it in their common perufal of books, fingling
out the errors and defects, the naufeous, the fulfome,
the dull, and the impertinent, with the caution of a
man
firft by the favour of the emperors, whom at laft they fhut out of
their own capital city, and then forged a donation from Conftantine
the Great, the better to juſtify what they did. In imitation of this,
Peter, having run ſomething behind-band in the world, obtained leave of
a certain lord, &c. W. Wotton.
The feveral digreffions are written in ridicule of bad critics, dull
commentaters, and the whole fraternity of Grubfireet philofophers.
Oivery.
62
A TALE OF A T U B.
man that walks through Edinburgh flrects in a morn
ing; who is indeed as careful as he can, to watch dili-
gently, and ſpy out the filth in his way, not that he is
curious to obferve the colour and complexion of the or-
dure, or take its dimenfions, much lefs to be paddling
in, or talling; but only with a deſign to come out as
cleanly as he may. Thefe men ſeem, though very er-
roneouſly, to have underflood the appellation of critic
in a literal fenfe; that one principal part of his office
was to praiſe and acquit; and that a critic, who fets up
to read only for an occafion of ceniure and reproof, is
a creature as barbarcus, as a judge, who fhould take up
a refolution to hang all men that came before him upon
a trial.
Again, by the word critic have been meant the refo-
rers of ancient learning from the worms, and graves, and
duft of manufcripts.
Now, the races of those two have been for fome agcs
utterly extinct; and befides, to difcourfe any farther of
them, would not be at all to my purpoſe.
The third, and nobleft fort, is that of the TRUE
CRITIC, whoſe original is the most ancient of all. Every
true critic is a hero born, defcending in a dire& live
from a celestial ftem by Mūmus and Hybris, who begat
Zoilus, who begat Tigellius, who begat Etca tera the
elder, who begat Bentley and Rymer, and Wotton,
and Perrault, and Dennis, who begat Etcetera the
younger.
But
And theſe are the critics from whom the common-
wealth of learning has in all ages received fuch immenſe
benefits, that the gratitude of their admirers placed their
origin in heaven, among thofe of Hercules, Thefeus,
Perfeus, and other great defervers of mankind.
heroic virtue itſelf hath not been exempt from the oblo-
quy of evil tongues. For it hath been objected, that
thoſe ancient heroes, famous for their combating fo
many giants, and dragons, and robbers, were in their
own perſons a greater nuifance to mankind, than any of
thoſe monſters they fubdued; and therefore, to render
their obligations more complete, when all other vermin
were deſtroyed, ſhould in conſcience have concluded with
the fame juftice upon themſelves; as Hercules moſt genc-
roufly
Sect. 3.
63
I digreffion concerning critics.
rouſly did; and hath, upon that ſcore, procured to him-
felf more temples and votaries, than the beſt of his fel-
lows. For theſe reaſons, I fuppofe, it is, why fome
have conceived, it would be very expedient for the pub-
lic good of learning, that every true critic, as foon as he
had finiſhed his task affigned, fhould immediately deliver
himself up to ratfbane, or hemp, or from fome convenient
altitude; and that no man's pretenfions to fo illuftrious 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
affign the proper employment of a true ancient genuire
critic; which is, to travel through this vast world of
writings; to purfue and hunt thofe nonftrous 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 like Augeas's dung: or
elfe drive away a fort of dangerous fowl, who have a per-
verfe inclination to plunder the belt branches of the tree
of knowledge, like thoſe Stymphalian birds that eat up the
fruit.
Theſe reaſonings will furnith us with an adequate de-
finition of a true critic; that he is a diſcoverer and colle&tor
of writers faults; which may be farther put beyond
difpute by the following demonftration: That who-
ever will examine the writings in all kinds, wherewith
this ancient fect has honoured the world, fhall imme-
diately find, from the whole thread and tenor of them,
that the ideas of the authors have been altogether con-
verſant and taken up with the faults, and blemiſhes, and
overfights, and mistakes of other writers; and, let the
fubject treated on be whatever it will, their imaginati-
ons are fo entirely poffeffed and replete with the defects
of other pens, that the very quinteffence of what is bad
dots of neceflity diftil into their own; by which means
the whole appears to be nothing else but an abstract of
the criticijns themfelves have made.
Having thus briefly confidered the original and office
of a critic, as the word is understood in its moft noble
and univerſal acceptation; I proceed to refute the ob-
jections of thofe who argue from the filence and pre-
termillion
04
A TALE OF A TUB.
termiffion of authors; by which they pretend to prove;
that the very art of criticiſm, as now exerciſed, and by
me explained, is wholly modern; and confequently, that
the critics of Great Britain and France have no title to
an original fo ancient and illuftrious as I have deduced.
Now, if I can clearly make out, on the contrary, that
the moſt ancient writers have particularly deſcribed both
the perfon and the office of a true critic, agreeable to the
definition laid down by me; their grand objection, from
the filence of authors, will fall to the ground..
I confefs to have for a long time borne a part in this
general error; from which I'fhould never have acquitted
myſelf, but through the affiftance of our noble moderns;
whoſe moſt edifying volumes I turn indefatigably over
night and day, for the improvement of my mind, and
the good of my country. Theſe have with unwearied
pains made many ufeful fearches into the weak fides of
the ancients, and given us a comprehenfive lift of them.
Befides, they have proved beyond contradiction, that
the very fineſt things, delivered of old, have been long
fince invented, 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 tran-
fcending genius of the prefent age.
Which clearly
fhews, how little merit thoſe ancients can justly pretend
to; and takes off that blind admiration paid them by
men in a corner, who have the unhappinets of converfing
too little with prefent things. Reflecting naturely upon
all this, and taking in the whole compafs of human na-
ture, I eaſily concluded, that theſe ancients, highly fen-
fible of their many imperfections, muft needs have en-
deavoured, from fome paffages in their works, to ob-
viate, ſoften, or divert the cenforious reader, by jatire or
panegyric upon the true critics; in imitation of their mafters
the moderns. Now, in the common places of both thete, t
I was plentifully inftructed, by a long courſe of uſeful
fudy in prefaces and prologues; and therefore immediate-
ly refolved to try what I could difcover of either, by a
diligent perufal of the moft ancient writers, and cipe-
1
cially
See Wotton of ancient and modern learning.
+ Satire and panegyric upon uitics.
Sect. 3.
A digreffion concerning critics.
65
cially thoſe who treated of the earliest times. Here I
found, to my great furprife, that although they all en-
tered, upon occafion, into particular defcriptions of the
true critic, according as they were governed by their
fears or their hopes; yet whatever they touched of that
kind, was with abundance of caution, adventuring no
farther than mythology and hieroglyphic. This, I fuppoſe,
gave ground to fuperficial readers, for urging the filence
of authors against the antiquity of the true critic; though
the types are fo appofite, and the applications fo neceffary
and natural, that it is not eafy to conceive, how any
reader of a modern eye and taffe could overlook them.
I ſhall venture, from a great number to produce a few,
which, I am very confident, will put this question be-
yond difpute.
It well deferves confidering, that theſe ancient writ-
ters, in treating ænigmatically upon the fubject, have
generally fixed upon the very fame bieroglyph; varying
only the ftory, according to their affections, or their
wit. For, firit, Paufanias is of opinion, that the per-
fection of writing correct was entirely owing to the in-
flitution of critics. And that he can poffibly mean no
other than the true critic, is, I think, manifeſt enough
from the following defcription. He fays, they were a
race of men who delighted to nibble at the fuperfluities and
excrefcences of books; which the learned at length obſerving,
took warning of their own accord to lop the luxuriant, the
rotten, the dead, the faples, and the overgrown branches
from their works. But now, all this he cunningly fhades
under the following allegory: That the Nauplians in
Argos learned the art of pruning their vines, by obferving,
that when an ASS had brewjed upon one of them, it
thrived the better, and bere fairer fruit. But Herodo
tus, holding the very fame bieroglyph, ſpeaks much
plainer, and almoſt in terminis. He hath been ſo bold
as to tax the true critics of ignorance and malice; tell-
ing us openly, for I think nothing can be plainer, that
in the western part of Libya there avere ASSES with
horns. Upon which relation Ctelias || yet refines, men-
tioning
↑ Lib. 4.
* Lib.
1.de excerpta ex eo apud Photium,
66
A TALE OF A TU B.
•
*
藏
​tioning the very fame animal about India; adding, that
whereas all other ASSES wanted a gall, thefe horned ones
were fo redundant in that part, that their flesh was not
to be eaten, becauſe of its extreme bitterneſs.
}
L
H
Now, the reaſon why thoſe ancient writers treated
this fubject only by types and figures, was, becauſe they
durft not make open attacks against a party fo potent
and terrible, as the critics of thofe ages were; whofe
very voice was ſo dreadful, that a legion of authors
would tremble, and drop their pens at the found: for
fo Herodotus tells us exprefly in another place, ‡ how
a vast army of Scythians was put to flight in a panic terror
by the braying of an ASS. From 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 thofe our Scythian ancef-
tors. In fhort, this dread was fo univerfal, that, in
procefs of time, thoſe authors who had a mind to publiſh
their fentiments more freely, in defcribing the true cri-
tics of their feveral ages, were forced to leave off the uſe
of the former hieroglyph, as too nearly approaching the
prototypes and invented other terms inftead thereof, that
were more cautious and myftical. So Diodorus, fpeak-
ing to the fame 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 feent, as to poi-
for those who offer to jmell it. Lucretius gives exactly the
fame relation:
Eft etiam in magnis Heliconis montibus arbos,
Floris odore bominem tetro confueta necare. † Lib. 6.
}
But Ctefias, whom we lately quoted, hath been 1
great deal bolder. He had been ufed with much feveri-
ty by the 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 mean-
ing is fo near the Turface, that I wonder how it
poffibly came to be overlooked by thofe who deny the
antiquity
I Lib. 4.
†
Lib.
Near Helicon, and round the learned hill,
Grow trees, whofc bloffoms with their odour kill.
Sect. 3.
A digreffion concerning critics.
67
antiquity of the true critics. For, pretending to make a
defcription of many strange animals about India, he hath
fet down theſe remarkable words. Amongst the reft, fays
he, there is a ferpent that wants teeth, and confequently
cannot bite; but if its vomit, to which it is much addicted,
happens to fall upon any thing, a certain rottenneſs or cor-
ruption enfues. Thefe ferpents are generally found among
the mountains where jewels grow, and they frequently emit
poiſonous juice; whereof whoever drinks, that perſon's
brains fly out of his noftrils.
There was alfo among the ancients a fort of critics,
not diſtinguiſhed in fpecie from the former, but in growth
or degree, who feem to have been only the tyro's or
junior ſcholars; yet, becauſe of their differing employ-
ments, they are frequently mentioned as a fect by them-
felves. The ufual exercife of thefe younger ftudents
was, to attend conftantly at theatres, and learn to fpy
out the worst parts of the play, whereof they were oblig-
ed carefully to take note, and render a rational account
to their tutors. Fleſhed at theſe fmaller fports, like
young wolves, they grew up in time to be nimble and
Itrong enough for hunting down large game. For it
hath been obferved, both among ancients and moderns,
that a true critic hath one quality in common with a
tohore and an alderman, never to change his title or 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 fome naturalifts inform us is bad for fuffocations,
though taken but in the feed. I efteem the invention,
or at leaſt the refinement of prologues, to have been owing
to thefe younger proficients, of whom Terence makes
frequent and honourable mention, under the name of
malevoli.
Now, it is certain the inftitution of the true critics was
of abfolute neceflity to the commonwealth of learning.
For all human actions feem to be divided, like Themit-
tocles and his company: one man can fiddle, and ano-
ther can make a ſmall town a great city; and he that can-
not do either one or the other, deferves to be kicked
out of the creation. The avoiding of which penalty
has doubtless given the first birth to the nation of critics;
and
68
A TALE OF A TUB.
and withal, an occafion for their fecret detractors to
report, that a true critic is a fort of mechanic, ſet up
with a ſtock and tools for his trade at as little expence
as a taylor; and that there is much analogy between the
utenfils and abilities of both that the taylor's-hell is the
type of a critic's common-place-book, and his wit and
learning held forth by the goofe; that it requires at least
as many of theſe to the inaking up of one ſcholar, as of
the others to the compofition of a man; that the va
lour of both is equal, and their weapons near of a ſize.
Much may be faid in anfwer to thofe invidious reflec-
tions and I can poſitively affirm the first to be a falfe-
hood 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 will coft the richest candidate
every groat he is worth; fo, before one can commence
a true critic, it will coit a man all the good qualities of
his mind; which perhaps for a lefs purchafe would be
thought but an indifferent bargain.
:
*
Having thus amply proved the antiquity of criticiſm,
and defcribed the primitive flate of it; I fhall now ex-
amine the prefent condition of this empire, and fhew
how well it agrces with its ancient felf. A certain
author, whofe works have many ages fince been en-
tirely loll, does, in his fifth book, and eighth chapter,
fay of critics, that their writings are the mirrors of learx-
ing.
This I underſtand in a literal fenfe; and ſuppoſe
our author mult incan, that whoever defigns to be a
perfect writer, mult infpect into the books of critics, and
correct his invention there, as in a mirror. Now, who-
ever confiders, that the mirrors of the ancients were
made of bras, and fine mercurio, may prefently apply the
two principal qualifications of a true modern critic; and
confequently mult needs conclude, that thele have al-
ways been, and must be for ever the fame For bras
is an emblem of duration, and, when it is fkilfully bur-
nifhed, will caft reflections from its own fuperficies, with-
out any affistance of mercury from behind. All the o-
ther
* A quotation after the manner of a great author. Vide Bentley's
differtation, &i.
Sect. 4. A TALE OF A TUB.
69
ther talents of a critic will not require a particular men-
tion, being included, or eafily reducible to thefe. How-
ever, I fhall conclude with three maxims, which may
ferve both as characteristics to diftinguiſh a true modern
critic from a pretender, and will be allo of admirable
ufe to thofe worthy fpirits who engage in fo uſeful and
honourable an art.
The first is, That criticism, contrary to all other fa-
culties of the intellect, is ever held the trueft and beft,
when it is the very firſt reſult of the critic's mind: as
fewlers reckon the firit aim for the fureft, and feldom
fail of miffing the mark, if they ftay for a fecond.
Secondly, The true critics are known by their talent
of warming about the nobleft writers, to which they are
carried merely by inſtinct, as a rat to the beſt cheeſe, or
a wafp to the fairest fruit. So when the king is on
horfeback, he is fure to be the dirtiest perfon of the com-
pany; and they that make their court beft, are fuch as
bepatter him moft.
Laftly, A true critic in the perufal of a book is like a
deg at a feaſt, whofe thoughts and ſtomach are wholly
fet upon what the gueſts fiing away; and confequently is
apt to fearl moft when there are the feweft bones.
Thus much, I think, is fufficient to ferve by way of
addreſs to my patrons, the true modern critics; and may
very well atone for my paft filence, as well as that which
I am like to obſerve for the future. I hope I have de-
ferved fo well of their whole body, as to meet with gene-
rous and tender ufage from their hands. Supported by
which expectation, I go on boldly to purſue thoſe adven-
tures already fo happily begun.
I
SECT. IV.
A TALE OF A TUB,
Have now with much pains and ſtudy conducted the
reader to a period, where he muft expect to hear of
great revolutions. For no fooner had our learned brother,
fo often mentioned, got a warm houfe of his own
over his head, than he began to look big, and take
mightily
7༠
A TALE OF A TU B.
mightily upon him; infomuch 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 mien being fo much
altered.
He told his brothers, he would have them to know
that he was their elder, and confequently his father's
fole heir; nay, a while after he would not allow them to
call him brother, but MR. PETER; and then he muft
be styled FATHER PETER, and fometimes MY LORD
PETER. To fupport this grandeur, which he foon be-
gan to confider could not be maintained without a better
fonde than what he was born to; after much thought,
he caft about at laſt to turn projector and virtuofo; where-
in he fo well fucceeded, that many famous diſcoveries,
projects, and machines, which bear great vogue and
practice at prefent in the world, are owing entirely to
LORD PETER's invention. I will deduce the beft ac-
count I have been able to collect of the chief amongſt
them; without confidering much the order they came
out in; becauſe, I think, authors are not well agreed
as to that point.
I hope, when this treatiſe of mine fhall be tranſlated
into foreign languages, (as I may without vanity affirm,
that the labour of collecting, the faithfulneſs in recount-
ing, and the great uſefulneſs of the matter to the public,
will amply deferve that juftice,) that the worthy mem-
bers of the feveral academies abroad, efpecially thofe of
France and Italy, will favourably accept theſe humble
offers for the advancement of univerfal knowledge.
I do alfo advertiſe the Moft Reverend fathers the caftern
millionaries, that I have, purely for their fakes, made
ufe of fuch words and phrafes as will beft admit an eaſy
turn into any of the oriental languages, efpecially the
Chineſe. And fo I proceed, with great content of mind,
upon reflecting how much emolument this whole globe
of the earth is like to reap by my labours.
The firſt undertaking of Lord Peter was, to purchafe
a large continent, || lately faid to have been difcovered
That is purgatory.
in
Sect. 4.
A TALE OF A TUB,
71
in Terra Auftralis Incognita. This tract of land he bought
at a very great pennyworth from the difcoverers them-
felves, (though fome pretended to doubt whether they
had ever been there, and then retailed it into feveral
cantons to certain dealers, who carried over colonies,
but were all ſhipwrecked in the voyage. Upon which
Lord Peter fold the faid continent to other cuftomers
again, and again, and again, and again, with the fame
fucceis.
The fecond project I fhall mention was his fovereign
remedy for the worms, eſpecially thofe in the spleen.
The patient was to eat nothing after fupper for three
nights. † As foon as he went to bed, he was care-
fully to lie on one fide; and when he grew weary, to
turn upon the other. He must alfo duly confine his two
eyes to the fame object; and by no means break wind
at both ends together, without manifeft occafion.
Theſe preſcriptions diligently obferved, the worms
would void infenfibly by perſpiration, afcending through
the brain.
A third invention was the erecting of a whiſpering-
office, for the public good and eaſe of all fuch as are
hypochondriacal, or troubled with the colic; as
likewife of all eves droppers, phyficians, midwives,
fmall politicians, friends fallen out, repeating poets,
lovers happy or in defpair, bawds, privy-counfellors,
pages, paralites, and buffoons: in fhort, of all fuch
as are in danger of bursting with too much wind.
An afs's head was placed fo conveniently, that the par-
ty affected might eafily with his mouth accoit either of
the animal's ears; to which he was to apply ciofe for a
certain space, and by a fugitive faculty, peculiar to the
ears
1 Penance and abfolution are played upon under the notion of a ſo-
vereign remedy for the worms, especially in the fpleen; which, by
obferving Peter's prefcription, would void infenfibly by prefpiration,
afcending through the brain, &c. W. Wotton.
+ Here the author ridicules the penances of the church of Rome;
which may be made as eafy to the finner as he pleates, provided he
will pay for them accordingly.
By bis zubifpering-office, for the relief of eves-droppers, phy-
ficians, bawds, and privy counfellors, he ridicules auricular confef-
fion; and the priest, who takes it, is defcribed by the afs's head. W'.
Wotton.
72
A TALE OF A TU B.
cars of that animal, receive immediate benefit, either by
eructation, or expiration, or evomition.
Another very beneficial project of Lord Peter's was
an office of inſurance for tobacco-pipes, martyrs of the
modern zeal; volumes of poetry, fhadows,-
and rivers: that. thefe, nor any of theſe, ſhall receive
damage by fire. From whence our friendly focieties may
plainly find themſelves to be only tranfcribers from this
original; though the one and the other have been of
great benefit to the undertakers, as well as of equal to
the public.
3
Lord Peter was alfo held the original author of pup-
pets and raree-shows; † the great uſefulneſs whereof be-
ing fo generally known, I fhall not enlarge farther up-
on this particular.
+
But another difcovery, for which he was much re-
nowned, was his famous univerfal pickle. ‡ For having
remarked how your common pickle, in ufe among
houſewifes, was of no farther benefit than to preferve
dead fleſh, and certain kinds of vegetables; Peter,
with great coft, as well as ait, had contrived a pickle
proper for houſes, gardens, towns, men, women, chil-
dren, and cattle; wherein he could preferve them as
found as infects in amber. Now, this pickle to the taſte,
the fmell, and the fight, appeared exactly the fame
with what is in common fervice for beef, and butter,
and herrings, and has been often that way applied with
great fuccefs; but for its many fovereign virtues, was a
quite different thing. For Peter would put in a certain
quantity of his powder pimperlimpimp, after which it
never
*** This I take to be the office of indulgences, the gross abuſe
whereof first gave occafion for the reformation.
+ I believe are the monkeries and ridiculous proceffions, &c. a-
mong the Papis.
Holy water he calls an univerſal pickle, to preferve houſes, gar-
dens, towns, men, women, children, and cattle, wherein he could
preferve them as found as infects in amber. W. Wotton.
This is easily understood to be holy water, compofed of the fame
ingredients with many other pickles.
And becaufe holy water differs only in confecration from com-
mon water, therefore he tells us, that his pickle by the powder of
pimperlimpimp receives new virtues, though it differs not in fight nor
Imell from the common pickles, which preferve beef, and butter,
and herrings. W. Wotton.
Sect. 4.
73
A TALE OF A TU B.
The
never failed of fuccefs. The operation was performed
by Ipargefaction † in a proper time of the moon.
patient, who was to be pickled, if it were a house,
would infallibly be preferved from all fpiders, rats, and
weazels; if the party affected were a dog, he should be
exempt from mange, and madness, and hunger. In
alfo infallibly took away all ſcabs and lice, and fcall-
heads from children; never hindering the patient from
any duty, either at bed or board.
But of all Peter's rarities he moft valued a certain
fet of bulls, whofe race was by great fortune preſerv-
ed in a lineal defcent from thofe that guarded the
golden fleece: though fome, who pretended to obferve
them curiouſly, doubted the breed had not been kept
entirely chafte; becauſe they had degenerated from
their anceſtors in fome qualities, and had acquired o-
thers very extraordinary, but a foreign mixture. The
bulls of Colchos are recorded to have brazen feet. But
whether it happened by ill paſture and running, by
an allay from intervention of other parents, from ſtolen
intrigues; whether a weakneſs in their progenitors had
impaired the feminal virtue, or, by a decline neceffary
through a long courfe of time, the originals of nature
being depraved in theſe latter finful ages of the world:
whatever was the cauſe, it is certain, that Lord Peter's
bulls were extremely vitiated by the ruft of time in the
metal of their feet, which was now funk into common
lead. However, the terrible roaring peculiar to their
lineage, was preferved; as likewife that faculty of
breathing out fire from their noftrils; which notwith-
ſtanding many of their detractors took to be a feat of
art, and to be nothing fo terrible as it appeared, proceed-
VOL. I.
+ Sprinkling.
E
ing
The Papal bulls are ridiculed by name; fo that here we are at
no lofs for the author's meaning. W. Wotton.
Ibid. Here the author has kept the name, and means the Pope's
bulls, or rather his fulminations, and excommunications of heretical
princes, all figned with lead, and the feal of the fiſherman; and
therefore ſaid to have leaden feet and fiſhes tails.
§ Theſe paffages, and many others, no doubt, muſt be conſtrued
as antichriftian, by the church of Rome. When the chief minifter
and his minions are expofed, the keener the fatire, the more liable is
it to be interpreted into high treaſon againſt the King. Orrery,
74
A TALE OF A TU B.
ing only from their ufual courfe of diet, which was of
Squibs and crackers. † However, they had two peculiar
marks, which extremely diftinguifhed them from the
bulls of Jafon, and which I have not met together in the
deſcription of any other monster, befide that in Horace,
Varias inducere plumas ;
and
Atrum definit in piſcem.
For theſe had fishes tails; yet upon occafion could out-fly
any bird in the air. Peter put theſe bulls upon feveral
employs. Sometimes he would fet them a roaring to
fright naughty boys, and make them quiet. Some-
times he would fend them out upon errands of great
importance; where it is wonderful to recount, and
perhaps the cautious reader may think much to believe
it; an appetitus fenfibilis deriving itſelf through the
whole family, from their noble anceſtors, guardians of
the golden fleece: they continued fo extremely fond of
gold, that if Peter fent them abroad, though it were only
upon a compliment, they would roar, and spit, and
belch, and pifs, and fart, and fnivel out fire, and keep a
perpetual coil, till you flung them a bit of gold; but
then, pulveris exigui ja&tu, they would grow calm and
quiet as lambs. In fhort, whether by fecret connivance,
or encouragement from their mafter, or out of their own
liquorifh affection to gold, or both; it is certain they
were no better than a fort of ſturdy, fwaggering beg-
gars; and, where they could not prevail to get an alms,
would make women mifcarry, and children fall into
fits; who to this very day ufually call fprights and hob-
goblins by the name of bull-beggars. They grew at laft
to very troublefome to the neighbourhood, that fome
gentlemen of the north-west got a parcel of right English
bull dogs, and baited them fo terribly, that they felt it
ever after.
1
I muſt needs mention one more of Lord Peter's pro-
jects, which was very extraordinary, and difcovered
him
+ Thefe are the fulminations of the Pope, threatening hell and
damnation to thofe princes who offend him.
1 That is, kings who incurred his difpleaſure.
Sect. 4.
A TALE OF A TUB.
75
him to be maſter of a high reach, and profound inven-
tion. Whenever it happened that any rogue of New-
gate was condemned to be hanged, Peter would offer
him a pardon for a certain fum of money; which when
the caitiff had made all ſhifts to ſcrape up, and ſend,
poor
his Lordship would return a piece of paper in this form. I
CC
Tliffs, hymen, tee. Whereas we are inform-
O all mayors, fheriffs, jailors, conftables, bai-
“ed, that A. B. remains in the hands of you, or fome
"of you, under the fentence of death; we will and
"command you, upon fight hereof, to let the faid pri-
"foner depart to his own habitation, whether he ftands
"condemned for murder, fodomy, rape, facrilege, in-
ceft, treaſon, blafphemy, &c. for which this fhall be
"your fufficient warrant. And if you fail thereof, G-d
d- -mn you and yours to all eternity. And fo we bid
"you heartily farewel.
<<
Your most bumble
Man's man,
EMPEROR PETER."
The wretches, trufting to this, loft their lives and mo-
ney too.
I defire of thofe whom the learned among poſterity will
appoint for commentators upon this elaborate treatiſe,
that they will proceed with great caution upon certain
dark points, wherein all who are not verè adepti, may be
in danger to form raſh and hafty conclufions; eſpecially
in fome myſterious paragraphs, where certain arcana are
joined for brevity's fake, which in the operation must be
divided. And I am certain, that future fons of art will
return large thanks to my memory, for fo grateful, fo
ufeful an innuendo.
It will be no difficult part to perfuade the reader, that
fo many worthy diſcoveries met with great fuccefs in the
E 2
world;
This is a copy of a general pardon, figned Servus fervorum.
Ibid. Abfolution in articulo mortis; and the tax camera apoftolicæ,
are jeſted upon in Emperor Peter's letter. W. Wotton.
76
A TALE OF A TUB.
world, though I may juftly affure him, that I have re-
lated much the ſmalleſt number; my defign having been
only to fingle out fuch as will be of moft benefit for
public imitation, or which beft ferved to give ſome idea
of the reach and wit of the inventor. And therefore it
need not be wondered, if by this time Lord Peter was
become exceeding rich. But, alas! he had kept his
brain fo long and fo violently upon the rack, that at
laft it book itself, and began to turn round for a little eaſe.
In fhort, what with pride, projects, and knavery, poor
Peter was grown diftracted, and conceived the ftrangeft
imaginations in the world. In the height of his fits, as
it is ufual with thoſe who run mad out of pride, he
would call himſelf God Almighty, * and fometimes
monarch of the universe. I have feen him (fays my
author) take three old high-crowned hats, † and clap
them all on his head, three ftory high, with a huge
bunch of keys at his girdle, and an angling rod in his
hand. In which guife, whoever went to take him by
the hand in the way of falutation, Peter with much
grace, like a well-educated fpaniel, would prefent them
with his foot; and if they refufed his civility, then he
would raife it as high as their chaps, and give them a
damned kick on the mouth; which hath ever fince been
called a falute. Whoever walked by without paying
him their compliments, having a wonderful trong
breath, he would blow their hats off into the dirt.
Mean time his affairs at home went upfide down, and
his two brothers had a wretched time; where his firit
boutade
The Pope is not only allowed to be the vicar of Chrift, but by
feveral divines is called God upon earth, and other blafphemous titles
are given him.
The triple crown.
The keys of the church..
-The church is here taken for the
gate of heaven; for the keys of heaven are affumed by the Pope in
confequence of what our Lord faid to Peter, I will give unto thee the
keys of the kingdom of heaven. Hawkef.
Ibid. The Pope's univerfal monarchy, and his triple crown, and
fifher's ring. W. Wotton.
Neither does his arrogant way of requiring men to kifs his flip-
per fcape reflection. W. Wotton.
Sect. 4.
77
A TALE OF A TUB.
boutade * was, to kick both their wives one morning out
of doors, and his own too; and, in their ftead, gave
orders to pick up the first three ftrollers could be met
with in the ftreets. A while after he nailed up the cel-
lat-door; and would not allow his brothers a drop of
drink to their victuals. || Dining one day at an alder-
man's in the city, Peter obferved him expatiating, after
the manner of his brethren, in the praifes of his firloin
of beef. Beef, ſaid the faid magistrate, is the king of
meat beef comprehends in it the quintessence of partridge,
and quail, and venijon, and pheaſant, and plum-pudding,
and custard. When Peter came home, he would needs.
take the fancy of cooking up this doctrine into ufe, and
apply the precept, in default of a firloin, to his brown
loaf, Bread, fays he, dear brothers, is the staff of life;
in which bread is contained, inclufivè, the quintessence of
beef, mutton, veal, venifon, partridge, plum-pudding, and
cuftard: and to render all complete, there is intermingled a
due quantity of water, whofe crudities are alſo corrected by
yeast or barm, through which means it becomes a wholeſome
fermented liquor, diffused through the mass of the bread. Up-
on the ftrength of theſe conclufions, next day at dinner,
was the brown loaf ferved up in all the formality of a
city-feaft. Come, brothers, ſaid Peter, fall to, and Spare
not; here is excellent good mutton: † or hold, new my hand
is in, I will help you. At which word, in much cere-
mony, with fork and knife he carves out two good flices
of a loaf, and prefents each on a plate to his brothers.
The elder of the two, not fuddenly entering into Lord
Peter's conceit, began with v ry civil language to
examine the mystery. My Lord, faid he, I doubt, with
great fubmiffion, there may be jame mistake. What,
fays
This word properly fignifies a fudden jeik, or lafh of an horfe,
when you do not expect it.
The celibacy of the Romish clergy is ftruck at in Peter's beating
his own and brothers wives out of doors. W. Watton.
The Pope's refufing the cup to the laity, perfuading them that
the blood is contained in the bread, and that the bread is the real and
entire body of Chrift.
+ Tranfubftantiation. Peter turns his bread into mutton, and, ac-
cording to the Popish doctrine of concomitants, his wine too, which
in his way he calls palming his damned.crufts upon the brothers for mut--
W. Wotton.
Lon.
78
A TALE OF A TUB.
fays Peter, you are pleaſant; come then, let us hear this
jeft your head is ſo big with. None in the world, my Lord;
but, unless I am very much deceived, your Lordſhip was pleaſ-
ed a while ago to let fall a word about mutton, and I would
be glad to ſee it with all my heart. How, faid Peter, ap-
pearing in great furprife, I do not comprehend this at all.
-Upon which, the younger interpofing to ſet the bu-
finefs aright; My Lord, faid he, my brother Ifuppofe is hun-
gry, and longs for the mutton your Lordship hath promiſed
us to dinner. Pray, faid Peter, take me along with you.
Either you are both mad, or diſpojed to be merrier than I ap-
prove 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 this while. Pray,
Sir, fays Peter, eat your victuals, and leave off your imper-
tinence, if you please; for I am not difpofed to relifh it at
prefent. But the other could not forbear, being over-pro-
voked at the affected ferioufnefs of Peter's countenance.
By G-, my Lord, faid he, I can only fay, that, to my
eyes, and fingers, and teeth, and nofe, it feems to be nothing
but a crust of bread. Upon which the fecond put in his
word: I never saw a piece of mutton in my life fo nearly re-
Sembling a flice from a twelve-penny loaf. Look ye, Gentle-
men, cries Peter in a rage, to convince you, what a couple
of blind, pofitive, ignorant, wilful puppies you are, I will
uſe but this plain argument: By G-, it is true, good, na-
tural mutton, as any in Leadenhall market; and G— con-
found you both eternally, if you offer to believe otherwife.
Such a thundering proof as this left no further room for
objection. The two unbelievers began to gather and foc-
ket
up their miſtakes as haftily as they could. Why, truly,
faid the firft, upon more mature confideration-Ay, lays the
other, interrupting him, now I have thought better on the
thing, your Lordship feems to have a great deal of reafon.
Very well, faid 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 fee him fo readily appealed,
returned their mot humble thanks, and faid, they
would be glad to pledge his Lordship. That you shall,
faid Peter. I am not a perſon to refuse you any thing that
is reaſonable. Wine, moderately taken, is a cordial. Here is
a glaſs
A TALE OF A TU B.
79
a glass a-piece for you; it is true natural juice from the
grape, none of your damned vintners brewings. Having
ipoke thus, he prefented to each of them another large
dry cruft, bidding them drink it off, and not be bafh-
ful; for it would do them no hurt. The two brothers,
after having performed the ufual office in fuch delicate
conjunctures, of staring a fufficient period at Lord l'eter,
and each other; and finding how inatters were like to
go, reſolved not to enter on a new difpute, but let him
carry the point as he pleaſed: for he was now got into
one of his mad fits; and to argue or expoftulate further,
would only ferve to render him a hundred times more
untractable.
I have chofen 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 fame time among theſe brethren, and was never af-
terwards made up.
But of that I fhall treat at large in an
other ſection.
However, it is certain, that Lord Peter, even in his
lucid intervals, was very lewdly given in his common
converſation, extreme wilful and pofitive; and would at
any time rather argue to the death, than allow himſelf
once to be in an error. Befides, he had an abominable
faculty of telling huge palpable yes upon all occafions;
and not only fwearing to the truth, but curfing the
whole company to hell, if they pretended to make the
leaft fcruple of believing him. One time he fwore he
had a cow at home, which gave as much milk at a
meal as
would fill three thoufand churches; and,
what was yet more extraordinary, would never turn
four. t Another time he was telling of an old fign-post ||
that belonged to his father, with nails and timber
enough in it to build fixteen large men of war.
ing one day of Chineſe waggons, which were made fo
By this rupture is meant the reformation.
Talk-
light
+ The ridiculous multiplying of the virgin Mary's milt among
the Papiſts, under the allegory of a cow, which gave as much milk at
a meal a would fill three thoufand churches. IV. IVotton.
|| By this fign eft is meant the croſs of our bleſſed Saviour;—and
if all the wood that is thewn for parts of it, was collected, the quan-
tity would fufficiently juftify this farcalin. Hawke
80
A TALE OF A TUB.
light as to fail over mountains: Z-ds, faid Peter,
where's the wonder of that? By G-, I jaw a large house
of line and ftone travel over fea and land, granting that it
Stopped fometimes to bait, above two thouſand German leagues.||
And that which was the good of it, he would fwear def-
perately all the while, that he never told a lye in his life;
and every word, By G-, Gentlemen, I tell you nothing but
the truth; and the d--l broil them eternally that will
not believe me.
In short, Peter grew fo fcandalous, that all the neigh-
bourhood began in plain words to fay, he was no better
than a knave. And his two brothers, long weary of his
ill uſage, refolved at laft to leave him; but firſt they
humbly defired a copy of their father's will, which had
now lain by neglected time out of mind. Instead of
granting this requeft, he called them damned fons of
whores, rogues, traitors, and the rest of the vile names
he could mufter up. However, while he was abroad
one day upon his projects, the two youngsters watched
their opportunity, made a fhift to come at the will, and
took a copia vera;
* by which they preſently faw how
grossly they had been abuſed; their father having left
them equal heirs, and ſtrictly commanded, that what-
ever they got fhould 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 hearts. In copying the
will, they had met another precept againſt whoring, di-
vorce, and feparate maintenance: upon which their
next work was, to diſcard their concubines, and fend
for their wives. § Whilft all this was in agitation,
there
The chapel of Loretto. He falls here only upon the ridiculous.
inventions of Popery. The church of Rome intended by theſe things
to gull filly, fuperftitious people, and rook them of their money.
The world had been too long in flavery; but our ancestors gloriously
redeemed us from that yoke. The church of Rome therefore
ought to be expoſed; and he deſerves well of mankind that does ex-
poſe it. W. Wotton.
Ibid. The chapel of Loretto, which travelled from the Holy Land
to Italy.
Tranflated the fcriptures into the vulgar tongues.
Adminiſtered the cup to the laity at the communion.
Allowed the marriages of priests.
Sect. 5.
A digreffion in the modern kind.
81
there enters a folicitor from Newgate, defiring Lord Pe-
ter would pleaſe to procure a pardon for a thief that was
to be hanged to-morrow. But the two brothers told
him, he was a coxcomb, to feek pardons from a fellow
who deſerved to be hanged much better than his client;
and diſcovered all the method of that impofture, in the
fame form I delivered it a while ago; adviſing the foli-
citor to put his friend upon obtaining a pardon from the
king In the midſt 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
his gang, after ſeveral millions of fcurrilities and curſes,
not very important here to repeat, by main force very
fairly kicks them both out of doors, t and would never
let them come under his roof from that day to this.
SECT. V.
A digreffion in the modern kind.
WE, whom the world is pleaſed to honour with
the title of modern authors, should never have
been able to compafs our great defign of an everlaſting
remembrance, and never-dying fame, of our endeavours
had not been fo highly ferviceable to the general good
of mankind. This, O Universe, is the adventurous at--
tempt of me thy fecretary;
--Quemvis perferre laborem
Suadet, et inducit noctes vigilare ferenas.
To this end, I have fome time fince, with a world
of pains and art, diffected the carcafe of human nature,
and read many uſeful lectures upon the feveral parts,
both containing and contained; till at last it melt fo
ftrong,
E 5
Directed penitents not to trust to pardons and abfolutions pro-
cured for money; but fent them to implore the mercy of God, from
whence alone remiffion is to be obtained.
By Peter's dragoons is meant the civil power, which thofe
princes, who were bigotted to the Romish fuperftition, employed
against the reformers.
+ The Pope ſhuts all who diffent from him out of the church,.
82
A TALE OF A TU B.
ftrong, I could preferve it no longer. Upon which, I
have been at a great expence to fit up all the bones with
exact contexture, and in due fymmetry; fo that I am
ready to thew a very complete anatomy thereof to all cu-
rious gentlemen and others. But, not to digreſs farther
in the midst of a digreffion, as I have known fome au-
thors inclofe digreffions in one another, like a neft of
boxes; I do affirm, that having carefully cut up human
nature, I have found a very ftrange, new, and important
difcovery; that the public good of mankind is per-
formed by two ways, inftruction and diverfion. And I
have farther proved in my faid feveral readings, (which
perhaps the world may one day fee, if I can prevail on
any friend to ſteal a copy, or on any certain gentleman
of my admirers, to be very importunate,) that, as man-
kind is now difpofed, he receives much greater advan-
tage by being diverted than inftructed; his epidemical dif
eafes being faftidiofity, amorphy, and ofcitation; whereas,
in the prefent univerfal empire of wit and learning, there
feems but little matter lett for inftruction. However, in
compliance with a leffon of great age and authority, I
have attempted carrying the point in all its heights; and
accordingly, throughout this divine treatife, have fkil-
fully kneaded up both together, with a layer of utile,
and a layer of dulce.
When I confider how exceedingly our illuftrious mo-
derns have eclipfed the weak glimmering lights of the
ancients, and turned them out of the road of all fafhion-
able commerce, to a degree, that our choice town-wits,
of moft refined accompliſhments, are in grave difpute,
whether there have been ever any ancients or no; in
which point we are like to receive wonderful fatisfaction
from the moſt uſeful labours and lucubrations of that
worthy modern, Dr. Bentley: 1 fay, when I confider all
this, I cannot but bewail, that no famous modern hath
ever yet attempted an univerfal fyftem, in a ſmall port-
able volume, of all things that are to be known, or be-
lieved, or imagined, or practifed in life. I am however
forced
The learned perfon here meant by our author, hath been en-
deavouring to annihilate fo many ancient writers, that, until he is
pleafed to stop his hand, it will be dangerous to affirm, whether there
have been any ancients in the world.
Sect. 5.
83
A digreffion in the modern kind.
forced to acknowledge, that fuch an enterprize was
thought on fome time ago, by a great philofoper of O.
Brazil. *
The method, he propofed, was by a certain
curious receipt, a noftrum, which, after his untimely death,
I found among his papers; and do here, out of my great
affection to the modern learned, prefent them with it; not
doubting, it may one day encourage fome worthy un-
dertaker.
You take fair correct copies, well bound in calf-ſkin, and
lettered at the back, of all modern bodies of arts and jei-
ences whatſoever, and in what language you pleaſe. Theſe
you diftil in balneo Mariæ, infufing quinteffence of poppy
q. f. together with three pints of lethe, to be had from
the apothecaries. You cleanse away carefully the fordes and
caput mortuum, letting all that is volatile evaporate. You
preferve only the first running, which is again to be distilled
feventeen times, till what remains will amount to about two
drams. This you keep in a glass vial hermetically jealed,
for one and twenty days; then you begin your catholic trea-
tife, taking every morning fafting, firft fhaking the vial,
three drops of this elixir, fnuffing it ſtrongly up your noſe. 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, fummaries, compendiums,
extracts, collections, medulla's, excerpta quædam's, flo-
rilegia's, and the like, all diſpoſed into great order, and re-
ducible upon paper.
I mult needs own, it was by the affiftance of this ar
canum, that I, though otherwiſe impar, have adventured
upon fo daring an attempt; never atchieved or under-
taken before, but by a certain author, called Homer; in
whom, though otherwife a perfon not without fome.
abilities, and, for an ancient, of a tolerable genius, I have
diſcovered many grofs errors, which are not to be for-
given his very afhes, if by chance any of them are left.
For whereas we are affured, he defigned his work for a
complete body + of all knowledge, human, divine, po-
litical,
*This is an imaginary island, of kin to that which is called the
painters wives iſland, placed in fome unknown part of the ocean,
merely at the fancy of the map-maker.
+ Homerus omnes res humanas poematis complexus eft. Xenoph.
in conviv.
84
A TALE OF A TUB.
litical, and mechanic; it is manifeft, he hath wholly
neglected ſome, and been very imperfect in the reft. For,
firſt of all, as eminent a cabaliſt as his difciples would re-
preſent him, his account of the opus magnum is extremely
poor and deficient; he feems to have read but very fu-
perficially either Sendivogus, Behmen, or Anthropofo-
phia Theomagica. I He is alfo quite miftaken about
the Sphæra pyroplastica, a neglect not to be atoned for;
and, if the reader will admit fo fevere a cenfure, cix cre-
derem autorem bunc unquam audiviffe ignis vocem. His fail-
ings are not less prominent in feveral parts of the mecha-
nics. For, having read his writings with the utmoſt ap-
plication ufual among modern wits, I could never yet dif
cover the leaft direction about the ftructure of that ufe-
ful inftrument, a fave-all. For want of which, if the
moderns had not lent their affiftance, we might yet have
wandered in the dark. But I have ftill behind a fault,
far more notorious to tax this author with; I mean, his
grofs ignorance in the common laws of this realm, and in
the doctrine, as well as difcipline of the church of Eng-
land: A defect indeed, for which both he and all the
ancients ftand moft juftly cenfured by my worthy and
ingenious friend, Mr. Wotton, Bachelor of Divinity, in
his incomparable treatife of ancient and modern learning;
a book never to be fufficiently valued, whether we con-
Lider the happy turns and flowings of the author's wit,
the great uſefulneſs of his fublime difcoveries upon the
fubject of flies and Spittle, or the laborious eloquence of
his ſtyle. And I cannot forbear doing that author the
juftice of my public acknowledgments, for the great helps
and liftings I had out of his incomparable piece, while I
was penning this treatiſe.
But, befides theſe omithions in Homer, already men-
tioned,
A treatise written about fifty years ago, by a Welsh gentleman
of Cambridge. His name, as I remember, was Vaughan ;us appears
by the anſwer written to it by the learned Dr. Henry Moor. It is
a piece of the most unintelligible fuftian, that perhaps was ever pub-
lished in any language.
Mr. Wotton, (to whom our author never gives any quarter,) in
his comparifon of ancient and modern learning, numbers divinity,
law, &c. among thofe parts of knowledge wherein we excel the an-
tients,
Sect. 5.
A digreffion in the modern kind.
85
tioned, the curious reader will alfo obferve feveral de-
fects in that author's writings, for which he is not alto-
gether fo accountable. For whereas every branch of
knowledge has received fuch wonderful acquirements
fince his age, eſpecially within thefe last three years, or
thereabouts; it is almoſt impoffible, he could be ſo very
perfect in modern difcoveries, as his 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 fhew me in all
his writings a complete account of the pleen. Does he
not alfo leave us wholly to feek in the art of political
wagering? What can be more defective and unfatisfac-
tory than his long differtation upon tea? And as to his
method of ſalivation without mercury, fo much celebrated
of late, it is, to my own knowledge and experience, a
thing very little to be relied on.
It was to fupply fuch momentous defects, that I have
been prevailed on, after long folicitation, to take pen in
hand; and I dare venture to promife, the judicious
reader ſhall find nothing neglected here, that can be of
ufe upon any cmergency of life. I am confident to have
included and exhauited all that human imagination can
rife or fall to. Particularly, I recommend to the perufal
of the learned, certain difcoveries that are wholly un-
touched by others; whereof I fhall only mention, among
a great many more, My new help for jmatterers; or, The
art of being deep-learned, and ſhallow-read:-A curious in-
vention about moufe-traps :—An univerſal rule of reafon;
or, Every man his own carcer; together with a moft ufe-
ful engine for catching of owls. All which the judicious.
reader will find largely treated on in the feveral parts of
this difcourfe.
I hold myſelf obliged to give as much light as is poffi-
ble, into the beauties and excellencies of what I am
writing, becauſe it is become the faſhion and humour
moſt applauded 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.
Befides, there have been feveral famous pieces lately
publiſhed, both in verfe and profe; wherein, if the wri-
ters had not been pleafed, out of their great humanity
and
86
A TALE OF A TUB.
and affection to the public, to give us a nice detail of
the fublime and the admirable they contain, it is a thou-
fand to one, whether we ſhould ever have diſcovered one
grain of either. For my own particular, I cannot deny,
that whatever I have faid upon this occafion, had been
more proper in a preface, and more agreeable to the
mode, which ufually directs it thither. But I here think
fit to lay hold on that great and honourable privilege of
being the last writer; I claim an abfolute authority in
right, as the fresheft modern, which gives me a defpotic
power over all authors before me, In the ftrength of
which title, I do utterly difapprove and declare againſt
that pernicious cuftom, of making the preface a bill
of fare to the book. For I have always looked upon
it as a high point of indifcretion in monster-mongers,
and other retailers of strange fights, to hang out a fair
large picture over the door, drawn after the life, with
a moft eloquent defcription underneath. This hath
faved me many a three-pence; for my curiofity was
fully fatisfied, and I never offered to go in, though of-
ten 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, Epifiles, Advertiſements, In-
troductions, Prolegomena's, Apparatus's, To the readers. This
expedient was admirable at first. Our great Dryden
has long carried it as far as it would go, and with incredi-
ble fuccefs. He hath often faid to me in confidence,
that the world would have never fufpected him to be
fo great a poet, if he had not affured them fo frequent-
ly in his prefaces, that it was impoffible they could
either doubt or forget it. Perhaps it may be fo: how-
ever, I much fear, his intructions have edified out of
their place, and taught men to grow wifer in certain
points, where he never intended they fhould: for it is
lamentable to behold, with what a lazy fcorn 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 ufual modern ftint,) as if it were fo much Latin.
Though it must be alfo allowed, on the other hand,
that a very confiderable number is known to proceed
critics and wits, by reading nothing elfe. Into which
two
Sect. 6. A TALE OF A TUB.
87
two factions, I think, all prefent readers may juftly be
divided. Now, for myfelt, I profefs to be of the for-
mer fort and therefore having the modern inclination to
expatiate upon the beauty of my own productions, and
diſplay the bright parts of my difcourfe, I thought beft
to do it in the body of the work; where, as it now
lies, it makes a very confiderable addition to the bulk of
the volume; a circumstance by no means to be neglected by a
Skilful writer.
Having thus paid my due deference and acknowledg-
ment to an eſtabliſhed cuſtom of our neweſt authors, by
a long digreffion unfought for, and an univerſal cenfure un-
provoked; by forcing into the light, with much pains and
dexterity, my own excellencies, and other men's defaults,
with great juftice to myſelf, and candour to them; I
now happily refume my fubject, to the infinite fatisfacti-
on both of the reader and the author.
SECT. VI.
A TALE OF A TU B.
E left Lord Peter in open rupture with his two
brethren; both for ever difcarded from his
houle, and refigned to the wide world, with little or no-
thing to trul to. Which are circumſtances that render
them proper fubjects for the charity of a writer's pen
to work on; fcenes of mifery ever affording the fairest
harvelt for great adventures. And in this the world.
may perceive the difference between the integrity of a
generous author, and that of a common friend. The
latter is obferved to adhere clofe in profperity, but, on
the decline of fortune, to drop fuddenly off: whereas
the generous author, juft on the contrary, finds his
hero on the dunghil, from thence hy gradual fteps
raiſes him to a throne, and then immediately with-
draws, expecting not fo 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 mo-
ney to spend. There I fhall leave him for fome time;
returning where common charity directs me, to the
alliſtance
88
A TALE OF A TU B.
affiftance of his two brothers at their loweſt ebb.
How.
ever, I fhall by no means forget my character of am
hiftorian, to follow the truth ftep by step, whatever hap-
pens, or where-ever it may lead me.
The two exiles, fo nearly united in fortune and inte-
reſt, took a lodging together; where, at their firſt lei-
fure, they began to reflect on the numberlefs misfortunes
and vexations of their life paſt; and could not tell, on
the fudden, to what failure in their conduct they ought
to impute them; when, after fome recollection, they
called to mind the copy of their father's will, which
they had ſo happily recovered. This was immediately
produced, and a firm refolution taken between them,
to alter whatever was already amifs, and reduce all
their future meaſures to the strictest obedience pre-
fcribed therein. The main body of the will (as the
reader cannot eafily have forgot) confifted in certain ad-
mirable rules about the wearning of their coats in the
perufal 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, downright tranfgreffions of every point. Up-
on which they both refolved, without further delay, to
fall immediately upon reducing the whole exactly after
their father's model.
But here it is good to ftop the hafty reader, ever im-
patient to fee the end of an adventure, before we wri-
ters can duly prepare him for it. I am to record, that
thefe two brothers began to be diftinguiſhed at this
time by certain names. One of them defired to be
called MARTIN, † and the other took the appellation
of JACK. Theſe two had lived in much friend-
ſhip and agreement, under the tyranny of their bro-
ther Peter; as it is the talent of fellow-fufferers to do;
men in misfortune being like men in the dark, to
whom all colours are the fame. But when they came
forward into the world, and began to diſplay them-
felves to each other, and to the light, their com-
plexions appeared extremely different; which the pre-
fent
+ Martin Luther.
|| John Calvin,
Sect. 6. A TALE OF A TUB.
89
fent poſture of their affairs gave them fudden opportunity
to diſcover.
But here the fevere reader may justly tax me as a
writer of short memory; a deficiency to which a true
modern cannot but, of neceflity, be a little fubject:
becauſe memory being an employment of the mind upon
things paſt, is a faculty, for which the learned in our il-
luſtrious age have no manner of occafion, who deal en-
tirely with invention, and ftrike all things out of them-
felves, or at least by collifion from each other; upon
which account we think it highly reaſonable to produce
our great forgetfulness, as an argument unanfwerable
for our great wit. I ought, in method, to have inform-
ed the reader about fifty ages ago, of a fancy Lord
Peter took, and infufed into his brothers, 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 poffibly conceive :
and this to a degree, that, upon the time of their falling
out, there was hardly a thread of the original coat to be
feen; but an infinite quantity of lace, and ribbands, and
fringe, and embroidery, and points; (I mean only thofe
tagged with filver, || for the reft fell off) Now, this
material circumftance having been forgot in due place;
as good fortune hath ordered, comes in very properly
here, when the two bro hers are just going to reform
their veftures into the primitive ftate, prefcribed by their
father's will.
They both unanimously entered upon this great work,
looking fometimes on their coats, and fometimes on the
will. Martin laid the firſt hand; at one twitch brought
off a large handful of points; and, with a fecond pull,
ftripped away ten dozen yards of fringe. But when he
had gone thus far, he demurred a while. He knew
very well, there yet remained a great deal more to be
done. However, the first heat being over, his violence
began to cool, and he refolved to proceed more mode-
rately
Points tagged with filver, or those doctrines that promote the
greatneſs and wealth of the church, which have been therefore wo-
ven deepest in the body of Popery.
90
A TALE OF A TU B.
rately in the rest of the work; having already narrowly
eſcaped a ſwinging rent in pulling off the points, which,
being tagged with filver, (as we have obferved before,)
the judicious workman had with much fagacity double
fown, to preferve them from falling. Refolving there-
fore to rid his coat of a huge quantity of gold lace, he
picked up the ſtitches with much caution, and diligent-
ly gleaned out all the looſe threads as he went; which
proved to be a work of time. Then he fell about the
embroidered Indian figures of men, women, and chil-
dren ; againſt which, as you have heard in its due
place, their father's teftament was extremely exact and
fevere: thefe, with much dexterity and application,
were, after a while, quite eradicated, or utterly defac-
ed. For the reft, where he obferved the embroidery
to be worked fo cloſe, as not to be got away without
damaging the cloth, or where it ferved to hide or ſtreng-
then any flaw in the body of the coat, contracted by
the perpetual tampering of workmen upon it; he con-
cluded, the wifeft courfe was, to let it remain; re-
folving in no caſe whatſoever, that the ſubſtance of the
ſtuff ſhould ſuffer injury; which he thought the beſt
method for ferving 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 proceedings upon this great
revolution. I
But his brother Jack, whofe adventures will be fo
extraordinary,
The criticisms of the Martinifts (whom we may fuppofe the
members of the church of England) were, it is to be hoped, more
candid than thoſe contained in the following note: for Martin is
treated with a much lefs degree of farcalm than the other two bro-
thers. The church of England can fcarce be angry at ſuch a
favourable account of Luther; efpecially as we have fince reformed
from Luther himſelf, and, ſo far as our judgments can
can teach us, have
restored our habits fill nearer to the original lafhion, which they
bore at the perfection of the teſtament. Orrery.
In the character of Jack a fet of people were alarmed, who are
easily offended, and who can ſcarce bear the che.rfulneſs of a ſmile.
In their dictionary, wit is only another name for wickedness; and
the purer or more excellent the wit, the greater and more impious
the abomination. However wide, therefore, the difference of Peter
and Jack might have been in faſhioning their coats, the two brothers
moft fincerely agreed in their hatred of an adverfary fo powerful as
this
Sect. 6. A TALE OF A TUB.
91
extraordinary as to furnish a great part in the remain-
der of this difcourfe, entered upon the matter with
other thoughts, and a quite different fpirit. For the
memory of Lord Peter's injuries produced a degree of
hatred and fpite, which had a much greater fhare of in-
citing him, than any regards after his father's com-
mands; fince theſe appeared at beft only fecondary and
fubfervient to the other However, for this medley of
humour he made a fhift to find a very plauſible name,
honouring it with the title of zeal; which is perhaps the
moft fignificant word that hath been ever yet produced
in any language; as, I think, I have fully proved in
my excellent analytical difcourfe upon that fubject;
wherein I have deduced a hiftori-theo-phifi-logical account
of zeal, fhewing how it firft proceeded from a notion into
a word, and from thence, in a hot fummer, ripened into
a tangible fubftance. This work, containing three large
volumes in folio, I defign very ſhortly to publiſh by the
modern way of fubfcription; not doubting but the nobility
and gentry of the land will give me all poffible encou-
ragement, having had already fuch a taste of what I
am able to perform.
I record therefore, that brother Jack, brimfull of
this miraculous compound, reflecting with indignation
upon Peter's tyranny, and farther provoked by the de-
fpondency of Martin, prefaced his refolutions to this
purpoſe. What, faid he, a rogue that locked up his drink,
turned away our wives, cheated us of our fortunes, palmed
his damned crufts upon us for mutton, and at laſt kicked us
out of doors; must we be in his fashions, with a pox! araf-
cal, befides, that all the street cries out against. Having
thus kindled and inflamed himſelf as high as poffible,
and
this anonymous author. They fpared no unmannerly reflections
upon
his character. They had recourſe to every kind of abuſe that
could reach him. And fometimes it was the work of Swift and his
companions: fometimes not a fyllable of it was his work; it was the
work of one of his uncle's fons, a clergyman: and fometimes it
was the work of a perfon, who was to be nameless. Each of theſe
malicious conjectures reigned in its turn: and it will be found, that
bold affertions, however falfe, almoſt conſtantly meet with fuccefs
a kind of triumph that would appear one of the fevereſt inſtitutes of
fate, if time and truth did not foon obliterate all marks of the victory.
Orrery.
92
A TALE OF A TUB.
and by confequence in a delicate temper for beginning
a reformation, he fet 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 underſtand, that zeal is never fo highly
obliged, as when you fet it a tearing, and Jack, who
doted on that quality in himſelf, allowed it at this time
its full fwing. Thus it happened, that ftripping down
a parcel of gold lace a little too haftily, he rent the
main body of his coat from top to bottom; and whereas
his talent was not of the happieft in taking up a fiitch,
he knew no better way, than to darn it again with pack-
thread and a skewer. But the matter was yet infinite -
ly worfe (I record it with tears) when he proceeded to
the embroidery: for, being clumfy by nature, and of
temper impatient; withal, beholding millions of ftitches
that required the niceft hand, and fedateft conftitution,
to extricate; in a great rage he tore off the whole
piece, cloth and all, and flung it into the kennel, and
furiously thus continued his career: Ah, good brother
Martin, faid he, do as I do, for the love of God; ftrip,
tear, pull, rend, flay off all, that we may appear as un-
like the rogue Peter as it is poffible. I would not, for an
bundred pounds, carry the leaft mark about me, that might
give occafion to the neighbours, of ſuſpecting I was related
to fuch a rascal. But Martin, who at this time happen-
ed to be extremely flegmatic and fedate, begged his bro-
ther, of all love, not to damage his coat by any means;
for he never would get fuch another: defired him to con-
fider, that it was not their business to form their actions by
any reflection upon Peter, but by obſerving the rules prefcrib-
ed in their father's will: that he fhould remember, Peter
was ftill their brother, whatever faults or injuries he had
committed; and therefore they should by all means avoid
Juch a thought, as that of taking meaſures for good and evil,
from no other rule than of oppofition to him: that it was
true, the teſtament of their good father was very exact in
what related to the wearing of their coats; yet was it no
lefs penal and ftri&t in preferibing agreement, and friendſhip,
and affection between them; and therefore, if training a
point were at all difpenfable, it would certainly be fo, rather
to the advance of unity, than increase of contradiction.
Martin
Sect. 6. A TALE OF A TUB.
93
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 repofe, both of body and mind, the true ultimate
end of ethics; but Jack was already gone a flight-fhot
beyond his patience. And as, in fcholaftic difputes, no-
thing ferves to rouſe the ſpleen of him that oppoſes, ſo
much as a kind of pedantic affected calmneſs in the re-
Spondent; difputants being for the most part like unequal
ſcales, where the gravity of one fide advances the light-
nefs of the other, and caufes it to fly up, and kick the
beam fo it happened here, that the weight of Martin's
arguments exalted Jack's levity, and made him fly out
and fpurn against his brother's moderation. In fhort,
Martin's patience put Jack in a rage.
But that which
moſt afflicted him, was, to obſerve his brother's coat fo
well reduced into the ſtate of innocence; while his own
was either wholly rent to his fhirt; or thofe places,
which had escaped his cruel clutches, were ftill in Pe-
ter's livery: fo that he looked like a drunken beau,
half rifled by bullies; or like a fresh tenant in Newgate,
when he has refufed the payment of garnish; or like a
difcovered fhop-lifter, left to the mercy of Exchange wo-
men; or like a bawd in her old velvet petticoat, re-
figned into the fecular hands of the mobile. Like any,
or like all of theſe, a medley of rags and lace, ard
rents and fringes, unfortunate Jack did now appear. He
would have been extremely glad to fee his coat in the
condition of Martin's, but infinitely gladder to find that
of Martin in the fame predicament with his. However,
fince neither of theſe was likely to come to país, he
thought fit to lend the whole buſineſs another turn, and
to dress up neceffity into a virtue. Therefore after as
many
The galleries over the piazzas in the Royal Exchange were for-
merly filled with ſhops, kept chiefly by women.
The fame ufe was
made of a building called the New Exchange in the Strand. This
edifice has been pulled down; the ſhopkeepers have removed from
the Royal Exchange into Cornhill, and the adjacent streets; and there
are now no remains of Exchange women, but in Exeter 'change, and
they are no longer deemed the first miniſters of faſhion. Hawkef.
94
A TALE OF A TUB.
many of the fox's arguments as he could muster up,
for bringing Martin to reafon, as he called it, or, as
he meant it, into his own ragged, bobtailed condition
and obſerving he faid all to little purpofe; what, alas!
was left for the forlorn Jack to do, but, after a million
of fcurrilities against his brother, to run mad with fpleen,
and fpite, and contradiction? To be fhort, here began
a mortal breach between theſe two. Jack went imme-
diately to new lodgings, and in a few days it was for cer-
tain reported, that he had run out of his wits. In a fhort
time after, he appeared abroad, and confirmed the report
by falling into the oddeft whimfies that ever a fick brain
conceived.
And now the little boys in the ſtreets began to falute
him with feveral names. Sometimes they would call
him Jack the Bald; fometimes, Jack with the lantern; ||
fometimes, Dutch Jack; ¶ fometimes, French Hugh; †
fometimes, Tom the Beggar; § and fometimes, Knocking
Jack of the North. ‡‡ And it was under one, or ſome,
or all of thefe appellations, which I leave the learned
reader to determine, that he hath given rife to the moſt
illuftrious and epidemic fect of Eolifts, who, with ho-
nourable commemoration, do ftill acknowledge the re-
nowned JACK for their author and founder. Of
whoſe original, as well as principles, I am now advan-
cing to gratify the world with a very particular account;
Melleo contingens cuncta lepore.
SECT.
*The fox in the fable, who having been caught in a trap, and
loft his tail, uſed many arguments to perfuade the reft to cut off
theirs; that the fingularity of his deformity might not expofe him
to derifion. Hawkef.
+
That is, Calvin, from calvus, bald.
All thofe who pretend to inward light.
Jack of Leyden, who gave riſe to the Anabaptifts.
The Hugonots.
The Gueufes, by which name fome Proteftants in Flanders
were called.
‡‡ John Knox the reformer of Scotland.
95
I
SECT. VII.
A digreffion in praise of digreffions.
Have fometimes heard of an Iliad in a nut-fhell; but
it hath been my fortune to have much oftner jeen a
nut-ſhell in an Iliad. There is no doubt that human life
has received moſt wonderful advantages from both; but
to which of the two the world is chiefly indebted, I fhall
leave among the curious, as a problem worthy of their
utmost inquiry For the invention of the latter, I think
the cominonwealth of learning is chiefly obliged to the
great modern improvement of digreffions: the late refine-
ments in knowledge running parallel to thofe of diet in
our nation, which, among men of a judicious t.ſte, are
dreffed up in various compounds, confifting in foups and
olio's, fricaffeés and ragoufts.
It is true, there is a fort of morofe, detracting, ill-
bred people, who pretend utterly to difrelifh thefe po-
lite innovations. And as to the fimilitude from diet, they
allow the parallel; but are fo bold to pronounce the ex-
ample itſelf, a corruption and degeneracy of talte. They
tell us, that the fashion of jumbling fifty things together
in a diſh, was at first introduced in compliance to a de-
praved and debauched appetite, as well as to a crazy con-
ftitution: and to fee a man hunting through an olio after
the head and brains of a gooſe, a widgeon, or a woodcock, is
a fign he wants a ftomach and digestion for more fub-
ftantial victuals. Farther they affirm, that digreffions
in a book are like foreign troops in a fate, which argue
the nation to want a heart and bands of its own; and of
ten either fubdue the natives, or drive them into the moſt
unfruitful corners.
But, after all that can be objected by thefe fupercili-
ous cenfors, it is manifeft, the fociety of writers would
quickly be reduced to a very inconfiderable number, if
men were put upon making books, with the fatal con-
finement of delivering nothing beyond what is to the
purpoſe. It is acknowledged, that were the cafe the
fame among us, as with the Greeks and Romans, when
learning was in its cradle, to be reared,and fed, and cloth-
ed
96
A TALE OF A TUB.
ed by invention; it would be an eaſy taſk to fill up vo-
lumes upon particular occafions, without farther expa-
tiating from the ſubject, than by moderate excurfions,
helping to advance or clear the main defign. But with
knowledge it has fared as with a numerous army, incamp-
ed in a fruitful country; which for a few days maintains
itſelf by the product of the foil it is on; till, proviſions
being spent, they are fent to forage many a mile, a-
mong friends or enemies, it matters not. Mean while,
the neighbouring fields, trampled and beaten down, be-
come barren and dry, affording no fuftenance but clouds
of duft.
The whole courfe of things being thus entirely chang-
ed between us and the ancients, and the moderns wifely
fenfible of it; we of this age have diſcovered a fhorter,
and a more prudent method, to become ſcholars and wits,
without the fatigue of reading and thinking. The most
accompliſhed way of ufing books at prefent, is twofold:
either, firft, to ferve them as fome men do lords, learn
their titles exactly, and then brag of their acquaintance;
or, fecondly, which is indeed the choicer, the profound-
er, and politer method, to get a thorough infight 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 gate, requires an expence of time
and forms; therefore men of much hafte and little ce-
remony are content to get in by the back-door. For the
arts are all in a flying march, and therefore more eaſily
fubdued by attacking them in the rear. Thus phyſicians
difcover the ſtate of the whole body, by confulting only
what comes from behind. Thus inen catch knowledge
by throwing their wit on the pofteriors of a book, as boys
do fparrows by flinging falt upon their tails. Thus
human life is beſt underſtood by the wife man's rule of
regarding the end. Thus are the fciences found, like
Hercules's oxen, by tracing them backwards. Thus are
old fciences unravelled like old flockings, by beginning at
the foot.
Befides all this, the army of the fciences hath been of
late, with a world of martial diſcipline, drawn into its
clofe order, fo that a view, or a mufter may be taken of
it with abundance of expedition. For this great bleffing
we
Sect. 7.
A digreffion in praiſe of digreffions.
97
we are wholly indebted to ſyſtems and abſtracts, in which
the modern fathers of learning, like prudent ufurers, ſpent
their fweat for the eaſe of us their children. For la-
bour is the feed of idleness, and it is the peculiar happi-
neſs of our noble age to gather the fruit.
Now, the method of growing wife, learned, and fub-
lime, having become fo regular an affair, and fo eſtabliſh-
ed in all its forms; the number of writers must needs
have increaſed accordingly, and to a pitch that has made
it of abfolute neceffity for them to interfere continually
with each other. Befides, it is reckoned, that there is
not at this prefent a fufficient quantity of new matter left
in nature, to furniſh and adorn any one particular fub-
ject to the extent of a volume. This I am told by a very
fkilful computer, who hath given a full demonftration of
it from the rules of arithmetic.
This perhaps may be objected againit by thoſe who
maintain the infinity of matter, and therefore will not
allow that any species of it can be exhauſted. For an-
fwer to which, let us examine the nobleft branch of
modern wit or invention, planted and cultivated by the
prefent age, and which of all others hath borne the
moſt, and the fairest fruit. For though fome remains
of it were left us by the ancients, yet have not any of
thofe, as I remember, been tranflated, or compiled into
fyftems for modern ufe. Therefore we may affirm, to our
own honour, that it hath, in fome fort, been both in-
vented, and brought to a perfection by the fame hands.
What I mean, is that highly celebrated talent among
the modern wits, of deducing fimilitudes, allufions, and
applications, very furprifing, agreeable, and appofite,
from the pudenda of either fex, together with their proper
ufes. And truly, having obferved how little invention
bears any vogue, befides what is derived into theſe chan-
nels, I have fometimes had a thought, that the happy
genius of our age and country was prophetically held
forth by that ancient typical defcription of the Indian
Pygmies; whofe ftature did not exceed above two foot; fed
quorum pudenda craffa, et ad talos ufque pertingentia.* Now,
i have been very curious to inſpect the late productions,
VOL. I.
F
* Ctefiæ fragm, apud Photium.
wherein
98
A TALE OF A TU B.
wherein the beauties of this kind have most prominently
appeared. And although this vein hath bled fo freely,
and all endeavours have been used in the power of hu-
man breath to dilate, extend, and keep it open; like the
Scythians, who had a custom, and an inftrument, to blow
up the privities of their mares, that they might yield the
more milk: § yet I am under an apprehenfion, it is near
growing dry, and paſt all recovery, and that either fome
new fonde of wit ſhould, if poffible, be provided, or elſe
that we must e'en be content with repetition here, as well
as upon all other occafions.
This will ſtand as an incontestable argument, that our
modern wits are not to reckon upon the infinity of mat-
ter, for a conftant fupply. What remains therefore, but
that our laſt recourſe muſt be had to large indexes, and
little compendiums? Quotations must be plentifully ga-
thered, and booked in alphabet. To this end, though
authors need be little confulted, yet critics, and commen-
tators, and lexicons, carefully muft. But above all, thoſe
judicious collectors of bright parts, and flowers, and
obfervanda's, are to be nicely dwelt on, by fome called
the fieves and boulters of learning; though it is left un-
determined, whether they dealt in pearls or meal; and
confequently, whether we are more to value that which
paffed through, or what fraid behind.
By thefe methods, in a few weeks, there ftarts up ma-
ny a writer, capable of managing the profoundeft, and
moft univerfal fubjects. For what though his head be
empty, provided his common place book be full? And if
you will bate him but the circumftances of method, and
Ayle and grammar, and invention; allow him but the
common privileges of tranfcribing from others, and di-
greffing from himſelf, as often as he fhall fee occafion;
he will defire no more ingredients towards fitting up a
treatife, that fhall make a very comely figure on a book-
feller's fhelf, there to be prefeived neat and clean for a
long eternity, adorned with the heraldry of its title
fairly infcribed on a label; never to be thumbed or
greaſed by ſtudents, nor bound to everlasting chains of
darkneſs in a library; but when the fulness of time is
§ Herodot. 1. 4.`
come,
Sect. 8. A TALE OF A TUB.
99
come, fhall happily undergo the trial of purgatory, in
order to afcend the sky.
Without thefe allowances, how is it poffible we mo-
dern wits fhould ever have an opportunity to introduce
our collections, lifted under fo inany thoufand heads of
a different nature? for want of which, the learned world
would be deprived of infinite delight, as well as inftruc-
tion, and we ourselves buried beyond redrefs in an in-
glorious and undiftinguiſhed oblivion.
From fuch elements as thefe, I am alive to behold the
day, wherein the corporation of authors can outvie all
its brethren in the guild: A happineſs derived to us with
a great many others, from our Scythian anceſtors; a-
mong whom the number of pens was fo infinite, that the
Grecian eloquence had no other way of exprefling it, than
by ſaying, that in the region far to the north, it was hard-
ly poffible for a man to travel, the very air was fo replete
with feathers. *
The neceflity of this digreflion will eafily excule the
length; and I have cholen for it as proper a place as I
could readily find. If the judicious reader can afflign a
fitter, I do here impower him to remove it into any other
corner he pleaſes. And fo I return with great alacrity
to purfue a more important concern.
TH
SECT. VIII.
A TALE OF A TU B.
HE learned Eolifts † maintain the original caufe
of all things to be wind, from which principle
this whole univerfe was at first produced, and into which
it muſt at last be refolved; that the fame breath which
had kindled, and blew up the flame of nature, fhould
one day blow it out.
Quod procul a nobis flectot fortuna gubernans.
This is what the adepti underſtand by their anima
mundi;
F 2
* Herodot. 1. 4.
All pretenders to infpiration whatsoever.
100
A TALE OF A TUB.
mundi; that is to ſay, the ſpirit, or breath, or wind of
the world. For examine the whole fyftem by the parti-
culars of nature, and you will find it not to be difputed.
For whether you pleaſe to call the forma informans of
man by the name of fpiritus, animus, afflatus, or anima;
what are all theſe but feveral appellations for wind
which is the ruling element in every compound, and into
which they all refolve upon their corruption. Farther,
what is life itſelf, but, as it is commonly called, the
breath of our noftrils? Whence it is very juftly obſerved
by naturalifts, that wind ftill continues of great emolu-
ment in certain myfteries not to be named, giving occafion
for thofe happy epithets of turgidus, and inflatus, appli-
ed either to the emittent, or recipient organs.
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 particu-
lar. However, a few of their most important precepts,
deducible from it, are by no means to be omitted; a-
mong which the following maxim was of much weight.
'That fince vind had the maſter-thare, as well as opera-
tion in every compound, by confequence, thofe beings
must be of chief excellence, wherein that primordium ap-
pears
moft prominently to abound; and therefore man
is in highest perfection of all created things, as having,
by the great bounty of philofophers, been endued with
three diftinct anima's or evinds, to which the fage Æo-
lifts, with much liberality, have added a fourth, of equal
neceflity, as well as ornament, with the other three;
by this quartam principium, taking in our four corners of
the world; which gave occalion to that renowned ca-
baliſt, Bumbaſtus, of placing the body of men in due
pontion to the four cardinal points.
In confequence of this, their next principle was, That
man brings with him into the world a peculiar portion
or grain of wind, which may be called a quinta effentia,
extracted from the other four. This quintefence is of a
catholic uſe upon all emergencies of life, is improvable
into all arts and fciences, and may be wonderfully refin-
ed,
This is one of the names of Paracelfus. He was called ChriЯo-
phorus Theophrastus Paracelius Bumbaſtus,
Sect. 8. A TALE OF A TU B.
IOI
ed, as well as enlarged, by certain methods in educa-
tion. This, when blown up to its perfection, ought
not to be covetoufly hoarded up, ftifled, or hid under a
bufhel, but freely communicated to mankind. Upon
theſe reaſons, and others of equal weight, the wife E-
olifts affirm the gift of BELCHING to be the noblest
act of a rational creature. To cultivate which art, and
render it more ſerviceable to mankind, they made ufe of
feveral methods. At certain feafons of the year, you might
behold the priests among them in vaft numbers,with their
mouths gaping wide enough against a form. At other times
were to be feen feveral hundred linked together in a cir-
cular chain, with every man a pair of bellows applied
to his neighbour's breech, by which they blew up each
other to the ſhape and fize of a tun; and for that rea-
fon, with great propriety of fpeech, did ufually call
their bodies their vefels. When, by theſe and the like
performances, they were grown fufficiently replete, they
would immediately depart, and difembogue, for the pub-
lic good, a plentiful ſhare of their acquirements into
their disciples chaps. For we muſt here obſerve, that
all learning, was eſteemed among them to be compound-
ed from the fame principle: Becaufe, firft it is gene.
rally affirmed, or confeffed, that learning puffeth men up:
and, fecondly, they proved it by the following, fyllo-
gifm: Words are but wind; and learning is nothing but
words; ergo, learning is nothing but wind. For this rea-
fon, the philofophers among them did, in their ſchools,
deliver to their pupils, all their doctrines and opinions by
eructation, wherein they had acquired a wonderful elo-
quence, and of incredible variety. But the great cha-
racteristic by which their chief fages were beft diftin-
guifhed, was a certain pofition of countenance, which
gave undoubted intelligence to what degree or propor-
tion the spirit agitated the inward mafs. For, after cer-
tain gripings, the wind and vapours iffuing forth; hav-
ing firtt, by their turbulence and convulfions within,
caufed an earthquake in man's little world; diſtorted
the mouth, bloated the cheeks, and gave the eyes a
tenible
This is meant of there feitious preachers, who llew up the
feeds of rebellion. 8.c.
102
A TALE OF A TUB.
t
terrible kind of relievo. At which junctures, all their
belches were received for facred, the fourer the better,
and ſwallowed with infinite confolation by their meagre
devotees. And to render thefe yet more complete; be-
cauſe the breath of man's life is in his noftrils, there-
fore the choiceft, moft edifying, and moft enlivening
belches were very wifely conveyed through that vehicle,
to give them a tincture as they paffed.
Their gods were the four winds, whom they wor-
fhipped, as the fpirits that pervade and enliven the uni-
verfe, and as thofe from whom alone all inspiration can
properly be faid to proceed. However, the chief of
thefe, to whom they performed the adoration of latria, ‡
was the almighty North; an ancient deity, whom the
inhabitants of Megalopolis in Greece, had likewife in the
higheſt reverence: Omnium deorum Boream maxime ecle-
brant. This god, though endued with ubiquity, was
yet fuppofed by the profounder Æolifts to poffefs one
peculiar habitation, or (to fpeak in form) a cælum
empyreum, wherein he was more intimately preſent.
This was fituated in a certain region, well known to
the ancient Greeks, by them called Exoría, or, the land
of darkness. And although many controverfies have a-
rifen upon that matter; yet ſo much is undifputed, that,
from a region of the like denomination, the moſt refined
Æolifts have borrowed their original; from 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 fectaries in all na-
tions; who did, and do, and ever will, daily gaſp and
pant after it.
Now, their myfteries and rites were performed in this
manner. It is well known among the learned, that the
virtuofo's of former ages had a contrivance for carrying
and preferving winds in caſks or barrels, which was of
great afliftance upon long fea voyages; and the lofs of fo
uſeful an art at prefent is very much to be lamented, al-
though, I know not how, with great negligence o-
mitted
•
↑ Latria is that worſhip which is paid only to the Supicme
Deity. Hawkef.
§ Paufan, 1. 8.
Sect. 8. A TALE OF A TUB.
103
mitted by Pancirollus. It was an invention aſcribed
to Æolus himſelf, from whom this fect is denominated;
and who, in honour of their founder's memory, have to
this day preferved great numbers of thofe barrels, where-
of they fix one in each of their temples, firit beating
out the top. Into this barrel, upon folemn days, the
prieft enters; where, having before duly prepared him-
felf by the methods already defcribed, a fecret funnel is
alfo conveyed from his pofteriors to the bottom of the
barrel, which admits new fupplies of infpiration from a
northern chink or crany. Whereupon you behold him
fwell immediately to the fhape and fize of his veſſel. In
this polture he dimbogues whole tempetts upon his au-
ditory, as the pirit from beneath gives him utterance,
which, iffuing ex adytis et penetralibus, is not performed
without much pain and gripings. And the wind in
breaking forth, deals with his face as it does with that
of the fea; first blackening, then wrinkling, and at laft
burfling it into a foam. † It is in this guife the facred
olift delivers his oracular belches to his panting difci-
ples; of whom fome are greedily gaping after the fanc-
tified breath; others are all the while hymning out the.
praiſes of the winds; and, gently wafted to and fro by
their own humming, do thus repreſent the foft breezes
of their deities appealed.
It is from this custom of the priests, that fome authors
maintain theſe Æolifts to have been very ancient in the
world; becauſe the delivery of their myfteries, which
I have just now mentioned, appears exactly the fame
with that of other ancient oracles, whofe inſpirations
were owing to certain fubterraneous effluviums of wind,
delivered with the fame pain to the priest, and much a-
bout the fame influence on the people. It is true in-
deed, that thefe were frequently managed and directed
by female officers, whofe organs were underſtood to be
better difpofed for the admiffion of thofe oracular gujts,
as entering and paffing up through a receptacle of great-
er
An author who writ De artibus perditis, &c. of arts loft, and ef
arts invented.
This is an exact defcription of the changes made in the face by
enthufiaftic preachers.
104
A TALE OF A TUB.
er capacity, and caufing alfo a pruriency by the way,
fuch as, with due management, hath been refined from
carnal into a fpiritual ecftafy. And, to ftrengthen this
profound conjecture, it is farther infifted, that this cuf-
tom of female priefts | is kept up ftill in certain refined
colleges of our modern Æolifts, who are agreed to re-
ceive their infpiration, derived through the receptacle a-
forefaid, like their anceſtors, the Sibyls.
And whereas the mind of man, when he gives the
fpur and bridle to his thoughts, doth never ſtop, but
naturally fallies out into both extremes of high and low,
of good and evil; his first flight of fancy commonly
tranfports him to ideas of what is moft perfect, finifhed,
and exalted; till having foared out of his own reach
and fight, not well perceiving how near the frontiers
of height and depth border upon each other, with the
fame courfe and wing, he falls down plum into the low-
eft bottom of things; like one who travels the eaſt into
the weft; or like a ftrait line drawn by its own length
into a circle. Whether a tincture of malice in our na-
tures makes us fond of furniſhing every bright idea with
its reverfe; or whether reaſon, reflecting upon the fum
of things, can, like the fun, ferve only to enlighten one
half of the globe, leaving the other half by neceffity
under fhade and darknefs; or whether fancy, flying
up to the imagination of what is higheft and beft, be-
comes over-ſhort, and fpent, and weary, and fudden-
ly falls, like a dead bird of paradiſe, to the ground; or
whether, after all thefe metaphyfical conjectures, I have
not entirely miffed the true reafon; the propofition,
however, which hath ſtood me in fo much circumstance,
is altogether true, That, as the mott uncivilized parts
of mankind have fome way or other climbed up into the
conception of a god, or fupreme power, fo they have
feldom forgot to provide their fears with certain ghaftly
notions, which, inftead of better, have ferved them
pretty tolerably for a devil. And this proceeding feems
to be natural enough for it is with inen, whofe imagi-
nations are lifted up very high, after the fame rate as
with thoſe whofe bodies are fo; that as they are de-
:
Quakers, who fuffer their women to preach and pray.
lighted
Sect. 8. A TALE OF A TUB.
105
lighted with the advantage of a nearer contemplation
upwards, fo they are equally terrified with the diſmal
profpect of the precipice below. Thus, in the choice.
of a devil, it hath been the ufual method of mankind, to
fingle out fome being, either in act, or in vifion, which
was in moſt antipathy to the god they had framed.
Thus alfo the fect of Æolifts poffeffed themſelves with
a dread, and horror, and hatred of two malignant na-
tures, betwixt whom and the deities they adored, per-
petual enmity was eſtabliſhed. The firſt of theſe was
the chameleon,* fworn foe to inspiration, who, in ſcorn,
devoured large influences of their god, without refunding
the finalleft blaft by eructation. The other was a huge
terrible monſter, called Moulinavent, who, with four
ftrong arins, waged eternal battle with all their divinities,
dextroufly turning to avoid their blows, and repay them
with intereft.
Thus furniſhed, and fet out with gods, as well as de-
vils, was the renowned fect of Æolifts; which makes at
this day ſo illuftrious a figure in the world, and whereof
that polite nation of Laplanders, are beyond all doubt,
a moſt authentic branch of whom I therefore cannot
without injuftice, here omit to make honourable men-
tion; fince they appear to be fo cloſely allied in point of
intereft, as well as inclinations, with their brother Eolifts
among us, as not only to buy their winds by wholeſale
from the ſame merchants, but alſo to retail them after
the fame rate and method, and to customers much
alike.
、
Now, whether the fyftem here delivered was wholly
compiled by Jack; or, as fome writers believe, rather
copied from the original at Delphos, with certain addi-
tions and emendations fuited to the times and circum-
ſtances; I fhall not abfolutely determine. This I may
affirm, that Jack gave it at least a new turn, and formed
it into the fame drefs and model as it lies deduced by
me.
I have long fought after this opportunity of doing ju-
flice to a fociety of men, for whom I have a peculiar
honour;
•
F 5
*I do not well underland what the author aims at here, any more
than by the terrible monster mentioned in the following lines, called
Aoun, á vent, which is the Freach name for a winomil..
106
A TALE OF A TU B,
honour; and whoſe opinions, as well as practices, have
been extremely mifreprefented and traduced by the ma-
lice or ignorance of their adverfaries. For I think it one
of the greatest and beſt of human actions, to remove
prejudices, and place things in their trueft and faircft
light; which I therefore boldly undertake, without any
regards of my own, befide the confcience, the honour,
and the thanks.
SECT. IX.
A digreffion concerning the original, the ufe, and improve-
ment of madneſs in a commonwealth.
N
OR fhall it any wife detract from the juft reputa-
tion of this famous fect, that its rife and inftitu-
tion are owing to fuch an author as I have deſcribed
Jack to be; a perſon whofe intellectuals were overturn-
ed, and his brain fhaken out of its natural pofition;
which we commonly fuppofe to be a diftemper, and call
by the name of madness, or phrenzy. For, if we take a
furvey of the greateft actions that have been performed.
in the world under the influence of fingle men; which
are, the eſtabliſhment of new empires by conquest; the ad-
vance and progress of new fchemes in philofophy; and the
contriving, as well as the propagating of new religions;
we fhall find the authors of them all to have been per-
fons, whofe natural reafon had admitted great revolu-
tions from their diet, their education, the prevalency
of fome certain temper, together with the particular
influence of air and climate. Befides, there is fome-
thing individual in human minds, that eafily kindles at
the accidental approach and collifion of certain circum-
ftances, which, though of paultry and mean appearance,
do often flame out into the greatell emergencies of life.
For great turns are not always given by ftrong hands,
but by lucky adaption, and at proper feafons. And it is
of no import, where the fire was kindled, if the vapour
has once got up into the brain. For the upper region
of man is turniſhed like the middle region of the air; the
materials are formed from caufes of the wideft differ-
ence,
Sect. 9.
A digreffion concerning madness.
107
ence, yet produce at laft the fame ſubſtance and effect.
Mifts arife from the earth, fteams from dung hills, ex-
halations from the fea, and fmoke from fire; yet all
clouds are the fame in compofition, as well as confe-
quences; and the fumes iffuing from a jakes will furniſh
as comely and ufeful a vapour, as incenfe from an altar,
Thus far, I fuppofe, will eafily be granted me; and
then it will follow, that as the face of nature never
produces rain, but when it is overcaft and diſturbed;
fo human underſtanding, feated in the brain, muſt be
troubled and overspread by vapours, afcending from the
lower faculties to water the invention, and render it fruit-
ful. Now, although theſe vapours (as it hath been already
faid) are of as various original, as thofe of the ſkies; yet
the crops they produce, differ both in kind and degree,
merely according to the foil. I will produce two in-
ftances to prove and explain what I am now advanc-
ing.
*
A certain great prince raiſed a mighty army, filled
his coffers with infinite treaſures, provided an invinci-
ble fleet; and all this, without giving the leaft part of
his deſign to his greatest minifters, or his neareſt favou-
rites. Immediately the whole world was alarmed; the
neighbouring crowns in trembling expectations, towards
what point the ftorm would burft; the fmall politicians
every where forming profound conjectures. Some be-
lieved, he had laid a fcheme for univerfal monarchy;
others, after much infight, determined the matter to be
a project for pulling down the Pope, and fetting up the
Reformed religion, which had once been his own. Some
again, of a deeper fagacity, fent him into Afia, to ſub-
due the Turk, and recover Palcftine. In the midt
of all there projects and preparations, a certain ftate-ſur-
geon, gathering the nature of the difeafe by thefe
fymptoms, attempted the cure; at one blow performed
the operation, broke the bag, and out flew the capour.
Nor did any thing 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 this pour took its rile, which
This was Harry the Great of France.
Ravillac, who ſtabbed Henry the Great in his coach. .
had
108
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had fo long fet the nations at a gaze! what ſecret wheel,
what hidden ſpring could put into motion fo wonderful
an engine? It was afterwards diſcovered, that the move-
ment of this whole machine had been directed by an ab-
fent female, whofe eyes had raiſed a protuberancy, and,
before emiffion, fhe was removed into an enemy's coun-
try. What ſhould an unhappy prince do in fuch tickliſh
circumſtances as theſe? He tried in vain the poet's ne-
ver-failing receipt of corpora quæque: for,
Idque petit corpus mens, unde eft faucia amore;
Unde feritur, eo tendit, geflitque coire.
Lucr.
Having to no purpoſe uſed all peaceable endeavours,
the collected part of the femen, raiſed and inflamed be-
came aduft, converted to choler, turned head upon the
fpinal duct, and afcended to the brain. The very fame
principle that influences a bully to break the windows of
a whore who has jilted him, naturally ftirs up a great
prince to raiſe mighty armies, and dream of nothing but
fieges, battles, and victories.
Caufa-
·Cunnus teterrimi belli
The other inftance is, what I have read fome.
where in a very ancient author, of a mighty king, I who,
for the ſpace of above thirty years, amufed himſelf to
take and loſe towns; beat armies, and be beaten;
drive princes out of their dominions; fright children
from their bread and butter; burn, lay waſte, plunder,
dragoon, maffacre fubject and ftranger, friend and foc,
male and female. It is recorded, that the philofophers
of each country were in grave difpute upon caufes natu-
ral, moral, and political, to find out where they fhould
affign an original folution of this phenomenon. At last
the vapour or Spirit which animated the hero's brain,
being in perpetual circulation, feized upon that region
of the human body, fo renowned for furniſhing the zibeta
occidentalis, and gathering there into a tumour, left the
**
relt
This is meant of the prefent French King, Lewis XIV.
Paracelfus, who was to famous for chymistry, tried an experi-
ment upon human excrement, to make a perfume of it; which
when
Sect. 9.
A digreffion concerning madness.
109
reſt of the world for that time in peace. Of fuch mighty
confequence it is, where thofe exhalations fix; and of fo
little, from whence they proceed. The fame fpirits,
which, in their fuperior progrefs, would conquer a king-
dom, defcending upon the anus, conclude in a fiftula.
:
Let us next examine the great introducers of new
ſchemes in philoſophy, and fearch till we can find from
what faculty of the foul the difpofition arifes in mortal
man, of taking it into his head to advance new ſyſtems,
with fuch an eager zeal, in things agreed on all hands
impoffible to be known; from what feeds this difpofi-
tion fprings, and to what quality of human nature theſe
grand innovators have been indebted for their number of
difciples becauſe it is plain, that feveral of the chief
among them, both ancient and modern, were ufually mif-
taken by their adverfaries, and indeed by all, except
their own followers, to have been perfons crazed, or
out of their wits; having generally proceeded, in the
common courſe of their words and actions, by a method
very different from the vulgar dictates of unrefined rea-
fon; agreeing, for the moſt part, in their ſeveral models,
with their preſent undoubted fucceffors in the academy of
modern Bedlam; (whoſe merits and principles I ſhall far-
ther examine in due place.) Of this kind were Epicu-
rus, Diogenes, Apollonius, Lucretius, Paracelfus, Des
Cartes, and others; who, if they were now in the
world, tied faſt, and ſeparate from their followers,
would, in this our undiftinguishing age, incur manifeft
danger of phlebotomy, and whips, and chains, and dark
chambers, and straw. For what man, in the natural
ftate or courfe of thinking, did ever conceive it in his
power to reduce the notions of all mankind exactly to
the fame length, and breadth, and height of his own? Yet
this is the first humble and civil defign of all innovators.
in the empire of reafon, Epicurus modeftly hoped, that,
one time or other, a certain fortuitous concourfe of all
men's opinions, after perpetual juftlings, the fharp with the
fmooth, the light and the heavy, the round and the
fquare,
when he had brought to perfection, he called zibeta occidentalis, or
western cruct, the back parts of man (according to his divifion men-
tioned by the author, p. 1co.) being the weſt.
ΓΙΟ
A TALE OF A TUB.
fquare, would, by certain clinamina, unite in the notions
of atoms and void, as theſe did in the originals of all
things. Cartefius reckoned to fee, before he died, the
fentiments of all philofophers, like fo many leffer ſtars
in his romantic fyftem, wrapped and drawn within his
own vortex. Now, I would gladly be informed, how
it is poffible to account for fuch imaginations as thefe'in
particular men, without recourfe to my phænomenon of
vapours, afcending from the lower faculties to overfha-
dow the brain, and there diftilling into conceptions, for
which the narrowness of our mother-tongue has not yet
affigned any other name befides that of madness, or
phrenzy. Let us therefore now conjecture, how it
comes to pafs, that none of thefe great prefcribers do
ever fail providing themfelves and their notions with a
number of implicit difciples. And, I think, the rea-
fon is eaſy to be affigned; for there is a peculiar ſtring
in the harmony of human underſtanding, which in feve-
ral individuals is exactly of the fame tuning. This if you
can dextroufly ſcrew up to its right key, and then ftrike.
gently upon it; whenever you have the good fortune
to light among thofe of the fame pitch, they will, by a
fecret neceffary fympathy, ftrike exactly at the fame
time. And in this one circumftance lies all the ſkill
or luck of the matter: for if you chance to jar the
ftring among thofe who are either above or below
your own height; inſtead of ſubfcribing to your doc-
trine, they will tie you faft, call you mad, and feed
you with bread and water. It is therefore a point of
the niccit conduct, to diftinguifh and adapt this noble.
talent with respect to the differences of perfons 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 backney-
coachmen, (who, it feems, in thofe days were as arrant
rafcals as they are now,) has theſe remarkable words:
Eft quod gaudeas te in ifta loca veniffe, ubi aliqui fapere
viderere. * For, to speak a bold truth, it is a fatal inif-
carriage, fo ill to order affairs, as to pals for a fool in one
company, when in another you might be treated as a
philofopher.
* Epift. ad Fam. Trebat,
Sect. 9.
A digreffion concerning madneſs.
philofopher. Which I defire fome certain gentlemen of my
acquaintance to lay up in their hearts, as a very feaſonable
innuendo.
This, indeed, was the fatal mistake of that worthy
gentleman, my moft ingenious friend, Mr. Wotton; a
perfon, in appearance, ordained for great defigns, as
well as performances. Whether you will confider his no-
tions or his looks, furely 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, mifapplied to vain philofophy, been turn-
ed into their proper channels of dreams and viſions, where
distortion of mind and countenance are of fuch fovereign
uſe; the baſe detracting world would not then have dar-
ed to report, that fomething is amifs, that his brain hath
undergone an unlucky fhake; which even his brethren
moderniſts themſelves, like ungrates, do whiſper fo loud,
that it reaches up to the very garret I am now writing
in.
Lastly, Whofoever pleaſes to look into the fountains
of enthufiafm, from whence, in all ages, have eternally
proceeded fuch fattening ftreams, will find the fpring
head to have been as troubled and muddy as the current.
Of fuch 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 thofe two great
blethings, conquefts and systems, but even all mankind would
unhappily be reduced to the fame belief in things invi-
fible. Now, the former poftulatum being held, that it
is of no import from what originals this vapour proceeds,
but either in what angles it ftrikcs, and fpreads over the
underſtanding, or upon what ſpecies of brain it afcends
it will be a very delicate point, to cut the feather, and
divide the feveral reafons to a nice and curious reader,
how this numerical difference in the brain can produce
effects of ſo vaft a difference from the fame vapour, as to
be the fole point of individuation between Alexander the
Great, Jack of Leyden, and Monfieur Des Cartes. The
prefent argument is the most abftracted that ever I en-
gaged in it trains my faculties to their higheſt ſtretch:
and I defire the reader to attend with utmolt perpenfity;
for I now proceed to unravel this knotty point.
;
There
112
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*
There in in mankind a certain t
*
Hic multa
defiderantur.
*
of the matter
*
*
And this I take to be a clear folution
Having therefore fo narrowly paffed through this in-
tricate difficulty, the reader will, I am fure, agree with
me in the conclufion, that if the moderns mean by mad-
nefs only a difturbance or tranfpofition of the brain, by
force of certain vapours iffuing up from the lower facul-
ties, then has this madneſs been the parent of all thoſe
mighty revolutions that have happened in empire, in phi-
lofophy, and in religion. For the brain, in its natural
pofition and ſtate of ferenity, difpofeth its owner to paſs
his life in the common forms, without any thoughts of
fubduing multitudes to his own power, his reafons, or his
vifions: and the more he fhapes his understanding by
the pattern of human learning, the lefs he is inclined to
form parties after his particular notions; becauſe that
instructs him in his private infirmities, as well as in the
ftubborn ignorance of the people. But when a man's
fancy gets aftride on his reafon; when imagination is at
cuffs with the fenfes; and common underſtanding, as
well as common fenfe, is kicked out of doors; the first
profelyte he makes, is himſelf; and when that is once
compaffed, 'the difficulty is not fo great in bringing over
others; a trong delufion always operating from without
as vigorously as from within. For cant and vifion are
to the ear and the eye the fame that tickling is to the
touch. Thoſe entertainments and pleaſures we moſt
value in life, are fuch as dupe and play the wag with
the fenfes. For if we take an examination of what
is generally understood by happiness, as it has refpect
either to the understanding or the fenfes, we fhall find
all its properties and adjuncts will herd under this
fhort dehnition, That it is a perpetual tafeffion of be-
+
ing
Here is another defed in the manufcript; but I think the au-
thor did wifely, and that the matter, which thus ftrained his facul-
ties, was not worth a folution; and it were well if all metaphyfical
cobweb problems were no otherwife anfwered,
Sect. 9.
113
A digreffion concerning madness.
ing well deceived. And, firft, with relation to the mind
or underſtanding, it is manifeft, what mighty advan-
tages fiction 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 expence to furnish. Nor is mankind
fo much to blame in his choice thus determining him,
if we confider that the debate merely lies between things
paft, and things conceived. And fo the queſtion is only
this: Whether things that have place in the imagination,
may not as properly be faid to exift, as thofe that are
feated in the memory? Which may be juftly held in the
affirmative and very much to the advantage of the
former; fince 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 fenfes, it will be
acknowledged wonderfully adapt. How fading and
infipid do all objects accoft us that are not conveyed in
the vehicle of delufion! How fhrunk is every thing, as
it appears in the glafs of nature! So that if it were not
for the affiftance of artificial mediums, falfe lights, re-
fracted angles, varnish and tinfel, there would be a
mighty level in the felicity and enjoyments of mortal
men. If this were ſeriouſly confidered by the world, as
I have a certain reafon to fufpect it hardly will, men
would no longer reckon among their high points of wil-
dom, the art of expofing weak fides, and publiſhing in-
firmities: An employment, in my opinion, neither bet-
ter nor worse than that of unmasking; which, I think,
has never been allowed fair ufage, either in the world, or
the play-house.
In the proportion that credulity is a more peaceful
poffeffion of the mind, than curiofity, to far preferable
is that wiſdom which converfes about the furface, to
that pretended philofophy which enters into the depth
of things, and then comes gravely back with informa-
tions and diſcoveries, that in the infide they are good
for nothing. The two fenfes to which all objects firſt
addrefs themſelves, are the fight and the touch. Thefe
never examine farther than the colour, the fhape, the
fize, and whatever other qualities dwell, or are drawn
by
114
A TALE OF A TUB.
by art upon the outward of bodies; and then comes
reafon officioufly with tools for cutting, and opening,
and mangling, and piercing, offering to demonftrate,
that they are not of the fame confiftence quite through.
Now, I take all this to be the laft degree of perverting
nature; one of whofe eternal laws it is, to put her beſt
furniture forward. And therefore, in order to fave the
charges of all fuch expenſive anatomy for the time to
come, I do here think fit to inform the reader, that in
fuch conclufions as thefe, reafon is certainly in the right;
and that in the moſt corporeal beings which have fallen
under my cogniſance, the outſide hath been infinitely
preferable to the in. Whereof I have been farther con-
vinced from fome late experiments. Last week I faw
a woman flayed, and you will hardly believe how much
it altered her perfon for the worfe. Yesterday I oider-
ed the carcafe of a beau to be ftripped in my prefence;
when we were all amazed to find fo many unfufpected
faults under one fuit of cloaths. Then I laid open his
brain, his heart, and his spleen. But I plainly perceived
at every operation, that the farther we proceeded, we
found the defects increaſe upon us in number and bulk.
From all which I juftly formed this conclufion to my-
felf, That whatever philofopher or projector can find
out an art to folder and patch up the flaws and imper-
fections of nature, will deferve much better of mankind,
and teach us a more uſeful fcience, than that ſo much
in preſent eſteem, of widening and expofing them,
like him who held anatomy to be the ultimate end of
phyfic. And he whofe fortunes and difpofitions 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 fenfes
from the fuperficies of things; fuch a man, truly wife,
creams off nature, leaving the four and the dregs for
philofophy and reafon to lap up. This is the fublime
and refined point of felicity, called the poffeffion of being
well deceived; the ferene peaceful ftate of being a fool
among knaves.
But to return to madness: It is certain, that, accord-
ing to the fyftem I have above deduced, every species
thereof proceeds from a redundancy of vapours; there-
fore,
Sect. 9.
115
A digreffion concerning madneſs.
fore, as fome kinds of phrenzy give double ftrength to
the finews, fo there are of other fpecies, which add vi-
gour, and life, and fpirit to the brain. Now, it ufually
happens, that theſe active fpirits, getting poffeffion of
the brain, reſemble thofe that haunt other waſte and
empty dwellings, which, for want of bufinefs, either va-
nifh, and carry away a piece of the houſe, or elfe ſtay at
home, and fling it all out of the windows. By which
are myftically difplayed the two principal branches of
madnels; and which fome philofophers, not confidering
fo well as I, have miftaken to be different in their cauſes:
over-haftily affigning the first to deficiency, and the other
to redundance.
I think it therefore manifeft, from what I have here
advanced, that the main point of ſkill and addrefs is, to
furnish employment for this redundancy of vapour, and
prudently to adjuſt the ſeaſon of it; by which means it
may certainly become of cardinal and catholic emolu-
ment in a commonwealth. Thus one man chufing a
proper conjecture, leaps into a gulf, from thence proceeds
a hero, and is called the faver of his country: another
atchieves the fame enterprife; but, unluckily timing it,
has left the brand of madness fixed as a reproach upon
his memory. Upon fo 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 perfo-
nated the fool and madman for the good of the public.
But this was nothing elfe than a redundancy of the fame
vapour long mifapplied, called by the Latins, ingenium
par negotiis; or, to tranflate it as nearly as I can, a fort
of phrenzy, never in its right element, till you take it up
in the buſineſs of the ftate.
Upon all which, and many other reafons of equal
weight, though not equally curious, I do here gladly
embrace an opportunity I have long fought for, of re-
commending it as a very noble undertaking to Sir Ed-
ward Seymour, Sir Chriftopher Mufgrave, Sir John
Bowls, John How, Efq; and other patriots concerned,
that they would move for leave to bring in a bill for
Tacit.
appointing
116
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appointing commiffioners to infpect into Bedlam, and
the parts adjacent; who fhall be impowered to fend for
perfons, papers, and records; to examine into the merits
and qualifications of every ftudent and profeffor; to ob-
ferve with utmoſt exactneſs their ſeveral difpofitions and
behaviour; by which means, duly diftinguiſhing and
adapting their talents, they might produce admirable
inftruments for the feveral offices in a ftate, † ****
civil and military; proceeding in fuch methods as I fhall
here humbly propofe. And I hope the gentle reader
will give fome allowance to my great folicitudes in this
important affair, upon account of the high efteem I have
borne that honourable fociety, whereof I had fome time
the happineſs to be an unworthy member.
Is any ftudent tearing his ſtraw in piece meal, fwear-
ing and blafpheming, biting his grate, foaming at the
mouth, and emptying his pifs-pot in the fpectators faces?
let the Right Worshipful the Commiffioners of Inspection
give him a regiment of dragoons, and fend him into
Flanders among the reft. Is another eternally talking,
fputtering, gaping, bawling, in a found without period
or article? what wonderful talents are here miflaid! let
him be furniſhed immediately with a green bag and
papers, and three-pence || in his pocket, and away with
him to Westminster-hall. You will find a third gravely
taking the dimenfions of his kennel; a perfon of fore-
fight and infight, though kept quite in the dark; for
why, like Mofes, ecce cornuta erat ejus facics. ‡ He
walks duly in one pace; intreats 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 conftantly at eight o'clock; dreams
of fire, and hop lifters, and court-cußomers, and privileged
places. Now, what a figure would all theſe acquirements
amount to, if the owner were fent into the city among
his brethren! Behold a four h, in nuch and deep con-
verfation
† Ecclefiaftical. Hawkef.
A lawyer's coach hire, when four together, from any of the
inns of court to Weftumnfter.
I Cornutus is either horned or fhining; and by this term Mofes
is deſcribed in the vulgar Latin of the Bible.
Sect. 9.
A digreffion concerning madness.
117
verſation with himſelf; biting his thumbs at properjunc-
tures; his countenance checkered with bufinefs and de-
fign; fometimes walking very faft, with his eyes nailed
to a paper that he holds in his hands; a great faver of
time; fomewhat thick of hearing; very fhort of fight,
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 mo-
nofyllables and procraftination; fo 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 found; extremely fubject to the loofenefs,
for his occafions are perpetually calling him away. If you
approach his grate in his familiar intervals, Sir, fays he,
give me a penny, and I'll fing you a fong; but give me the
penny first. (Hence comes the common faying, and com-
moner practice, of parting with money for a song.)
What a complete fyftem of court-fkill is here defcribed
in every branch of it, and all utterly loft with wrong
application! Accoft the hole of another kennel, (firft
ftopping your nofe,) you will behold a furly, gloomy,
nafty, flovenly mortal, raking in his own dung, and
dabbling in his urine. The best part of his diet
is the reverfion of his own ordure; which, expiring into
fteams, whils perpetually about, and at last reinfunds.
His complexion is of a dirty yellow, with a thin ſcat-
tered beard, exactly agreeable to that of his diet upon
its first declination; like other infects, who having
their birth and education in an excrement, from thence
borrow their colour and their fmell. The ftudent of
this apartment is very fparing of his words, but ſome-
what over liberal of his breath; he holds his hand out
ready to receive your penny, and immediately upon
receipt, withdraws to his former occupations. Now,
is it not amazing, to think, the fociety of War-
wick-lane fhould have no more concern for the re-
covery of ſo uſeful a member, who, if one may
judge from thefe appearances, would become the
greatest ornament to that illuftrious body? Another
tudent ftruts up fiercely to your teeth, puffing with his
lips, half fqueezing out his eyes, and very graciouſly
holds you out his hand to kifs. The keeper defires you
not
118
A TALE OF A TUB.
not to be afraid of this profeffor, 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 un-
derftand, that this folemn perfon is a taylor, run mad
with pride. This confidcrable ftudent is adorned with
many other qualities, upon which at prefent I fhall not
farther enlarge. Hark in your ear. †—I am ſtrang-
ly miſtaken, if all his addreſs, his motions, and his airs,
would not then be very natural, and in their proper
element.
I fhall not defcend fo minutely, as to infift upon the
vast number of beaux, fidlers, poets, and politicians, that
the world might recover by luch a reformation. But
what is more material, befides the clear gain redound-
ing to the commonwealth, by fo large an acquifition of
perfons to employ, whofe talents and acquirements, if I
may be fo bold to affirm it, are now buried, or at leaſt
mifapplied; it would be a mighty advantage accruing
to the public from this inquiry, that all thefe would
very much excel, and arrive at great perfection in their
feveral kinds which, I think, is manifeft from what I
have already fhewn, and fhall enforce by this one plain
inftance, That even I myſelf, the author of thefe mo-
mentous truths, am a perſon whofe imaginations are
hard-mouthed, and exceedingly difpofed to run away
with his reafon, which I have obferved, from long ex
perience, to be a very light rider, and eafily fhaken off :
upon which account, my friends will never truſt me
alone, without a folemn promife to vent my fpeculations
in this or the like manner, for the univeifal benefit of
human kind; which perhaps the gentle, courteous, and
candid reader, brimful of that modern charity and ten-
dernefs ufually annexed to his office, will be very hardly
perfuaded to believe.
SECT.
I cannot conjecture what the author means here, or how this
chafm could be filled, though it is capable of more than one inter-
pretation.
119
I'
SECT. X.
A further digreſſion. ‡
T is an unanſwerable argument of a very refined age,
the wonderful civilities that have pafled of late years
between the nation of authors, and that of readers.
There can hardly pop out a play and pamphlet or a poem,
without a preface full of acknowledgment 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. | In due deference to fo laudable a
cuſtom, I do here return my humble thanks to his Ma-
jefty, and both houſes of parliament; to the Lords of the
King's Moft Honourable Privy Council; to the Reve-
rend the judges; to the clergy, and gentry, and yeomanry
of this land: but, in a more especial manner, to my
worthy brethren and friends at Will's coffee-houſe, and
Gresham-college, and Warwick-lane, and Moor-fields, and
Scotland-yard, and Westminster-ball, and Guild-ball: in
fhort, to all inhabitants and retainers whatfoever, either
in court, or church, or camp, or city, or country, for
their generous and univerfal acceptance of this divine
treatife. 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.
I am alſo happy, that fate has flung me into fo bleſſed
an age for the mutual felicity of bookjellers and authors,
whom I may fafely affirm to be at this day the two on-
ly fatisfied parties in England. Afk an author, how
his last piece has fucceeded: Why, truly, he thanks his
fars, the 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 farts, when he could steal an hour
from
This fection has in former editions been intitled, A Tale of a
Tub; but the tale not being continued till fection 11, and this being
only a further digreffion, no apology can be thought neceffary for
making the title correfpond with the contents. Hawkef.
This is literally true, as we may obferve in the prefaces to moſt
plays, poems, &c.
120
A TALE OF A TUB.
from his urgent affairs; as it is a hundred to one, you may
fee farther in the preface, to which he refers you; and
for the reft, to the bookfeller. There you go as a cu-
ſtomer, and make the fame queftion: He bleffes his God,
the thing takes wonderfully; he is juft printing the fecond e-
dition, 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 fend as many of your acquaintance as
you will, I fall upon your account furnish them all at the
Same rate.
Now, it is not well enough confidered, to what ac-
cident and occafions the world is indebted for the great-
eft part of thoſe noble writings which hourly ftart up
to entertain it. If it were not for a rainy day, a drunken
vigil, a fit of the spleen, a courſe of phyfic, a ſleepy Sunday,
an ill run at dice, a long tailor's bill, a beggar's purſe, a
faltious head, a bot fun, coftive diet, want of books, and a
just contempt of learning, but for thefe events, I fay,
and fome others too long to recite, (eſpecially a prudent
neglect of taking brimstone inwardly,) I doubt, the num-
ber of authors, and of writings, would dwindle away to
a degree moft woful to behold. To confirm this
opinion, hear the words of the famous Troglodyte phi-
lofopher. It is certain, ſaid he, ſome grains of folly are
of course annexed as part of the compofition of human nature;
only the choice is left us, whether we please to wear them
inlaid or imboffed and we need not go very far to ſeek
how that is usually determined, when we remember, it is
with buman faculties as with liquors, the lightest will be
ever at the top.
:
-
There is in this famous ifland of Britain, a certain
paultry Scribler, very voluminous, whofe character the
reader cannot wholly be a ftranger to. He deals in a
pernicious kind of writings, called fecond parts, and u
fually paffes under the name of the author of the first. I
eafily forefee, that as foon as I lay down my pen, this
nimble operator will have ftolen it, and treat me as in-
humanly as he hath already done Dr. Blackmore, L'E-
trange, and many others who fhall here be nameless.
I therefore fly for juſtice and relief, into the hands of that
great
Sect. 10.
121
A further digreffion.
great rectifier of ſaddles, ‡ and lover of mankind, Dr. Bent-
ley, begging he will take this enormous grievance into
his most modern confideration: and if it fhould ſo hap-
pen, that the furniture of an afs, in the fhape of a ſecond
part, muſt for my fins be clapped by a miſtake upon my
back; that he will immediately pleaſe, in the prefence
of the world, to lighten me of the burthen, and take
it home to his own houſe, till the true beaſt thinks fit to
call for it.
In the mean time, I do here give this public notice,
that my refolutions are to circumfcribe within this dif
courſe the whole ftock of matter I have been fo many
years providing. Since my vein is once opened, I am
content to exhauft it all at a running, for the peculiar
advantage of my dear country, and for the univerfal
benefit of mankind. Ther:fore hofpitably confidering
the number of my gueſts, they ſhall have my whole en-
tertainment at a meal; and I fcorn to fet up the leav
ings in the cupboard. What the guest cannot eat, may
be given to the poor; and the dogs under the table may
gnaw the bones. || This I underftand for a more genc-
rous proceeding, than to turn the company's ftomach,
by inviting them again to-morrow to a fcurvy meal of
fcraps.
If the reader fairly confiders the ftrength of what I
have advanced in the foregoing fection, I am convinced
it will produce a wonderful revolution in his notions
and opinions; and he will be abundantly better prepar.
ed to receive and to relish the concluding part of this
miraculous treatife. Readers may be divided into three
claffes; the fuperficial, the ignorant, and the learned: and
I have with much felicity fitted my pen to the genius
and advantage of each. The fuperficial reader will be
ftrangely provoked to laughter; which clears the
breaft and the lungs, is fovereign against the pleen, and
the most innocent of all diuretics. The ignorant reader,
between whom and the former the diftinction is ex-
tremely nice, will find himſelf diſpoſed to ſtare; which
VOL. I.
G
is
Alluding to the trite phrafe, Place the faddle on the right Larfe.
Harvkes.
By dogs the author means common injudicious critics, as he ex-
plains it himſelf before, in his digreffion upon critics, p. Eg.
122
A TALE OF A TUB.
is an admirable remedy for ill eyes, ferves to raiſe and
enliven the fpirits, and wonderfully helps perfpiration.
But the reader truly learned, chiefly for whofe benefit I
wake when others fleep, and fleep when others wake,
will here find ſufficient matter to employ his ſpeculati-
ons for the reft of his life. It were much to be wished,
and I do hereby humbly propofe for an experiment,
that every prince in Christendom will take feven of the
deepest scholars in his dominions, and fhut them up clofe
for seven years, in feven chambers, with a command to
write feven ample commentaries on this comprehenſive
difcourfe. I fhall venture to affirm, that whatever dif-
ference may be found in their ſeveral conjectures, they
will be all, without the leaft diftortion, manifeftly de-
ducible from the text. Mean time, it is my earnest re-
queft, that fo uſeful an undertaking may be entered up-
on, if their Majefties pleaſe, with all convenient fpeed;
becauſe I have a ſtrong inclination, before I leave the
world, to taſte a blefling, which we mysterious writers
can feldom reach, till we have gotten into our graves;
whether it is, that Fame, being a fruit grafted on the
body, can hardly grow, and much less ripen, till the
tock is in the earth; or whether the be a bird of prey,
and is lured among the reft to purfue after the ſcent of a
carcafe; or whether the conceives her trumpet founds
beft and fartheft, when fhe ftands on a tomb, by the ad-
vantage of a rifing ground, and the echo of a hollow
vault.
It is true, indeed, the republic of dark authors, after
they 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 uni-
verfal mother of things, wife philolophers hold all wri-
tings to be fruitful in the proportion they are dark; and
therefore the true illuminated (that is to fay, the darkeſt
of all) have met with fuch numberlefs commenta-
tors,
A name of the Rofycrucians. -Thefe were Fanatic alchymifts,
who, in fearch after the great fecret, had invented a means altoge-
ther, proportioned to their end. It was a kind of theological phi-
lofophy, made up of almoft equal mixtures of Pagan Platonism, Chri.
ftian Quietism, and the Jewish Cabala. Warburton on the Rape of
the Lock.
Sect. 10.
123
A further digreffion.
tors, whofe fcholaftic midwifery hath delivered them of
meanings that the authors themſelves perhaps never con-
ceived, and yet may very juftly be allowed the lawful
parents of them; the words of fuch writers being like
feed, which, however fcattered at random, when they
light upon a fruitful ground, will multiply far beyond
either the hopes or imagination of the fower. †
And therefore, in order to promote fo ufeful a work,
I will here take leave to glance a few innuendo's, that
may be of great affiſtance to thofe fublime fpirits, who
fhall be appointed to labour in a univerfal comment
upon this wonderful diſcourſe. And, first, I have couch-
ed a very profound mystery in the number of O's mul-
tiplied by Jeven, and divided by nine. Alſo, if a de-
vout brother of the Rofy Grofs will pray fervently for
fixty-three mornings, with a lively faith, and then tran-
ſpoſe certain letters and fyllables according to prefcrip-
tion, in the fecond and fifth fection; they will certain-
ly reveal into a full receipt of the opus magnum, Laft-
ly, whoever will be at the pains to calculate the whole
number of each letter in this treatife, and fum up the
difference exactly between the feveral numbers, affign-
ing the true natural caufe for every fuch difference;
the diſcoveries in the product will plentifully reward his
labour. But then he must beware of bythus and ſigé, ||
and be fure not to forget the qualities of achamoth; a
cujus lacrymis humecta prodit fubftantia, a rifu lucida, a tri-
G2
G 2
ftitia
Nothing is more frequent, than for commentators to force inter-
pretations which the author never meant.
This is what the Cabalifts among the Jews have done with the
Bille, and pretend to find wonderful myfteries by it.
I was told by an eminent divine, whom I confulted on this point,
that these two barbarous words, with that of achamoth, and its quali-
ties, as here ſet down, are quoted from Irenæus. This he difcoveted
by fearching that ancient writer for another quotation of our auther:
which he has placed in the title page, and refers to the book and
chapter. The curious were very inquifitive, whether thoſe barbarous
words, bafyma cacabafa, &c. are really in Irenæus; and upon in-
quiry, it was found they were a fort of cant or jargon of certain
heretics, and therefore very properly prefixed to fuch a book as this
of our author.
124
A TALE OF ATU B.
ftitia folida, et a timore mobilis; wherein Eugenius Phila-
lethes hath committed an unpardonable miſtake.
A
SECT. XI.
A TALE OF A TUB.
Fter fo wide a compafs as I have wandered, I do
now gladly overtake, and clofe in with my fub-
ject; and fhall henceforth hold on with it an even pace
to the end of my journey, except fome beautiful profpect
appears within fight of my way: whereof though at
prefent I have neither warning nor expectation, yet.
upon fuch an accident, come when it will, I fhall beg
my reader's favour and company, allowing me to con-
duct him through it along with myfelf. For in writing,
it is as in travelling; if a man is in hafte to be at home,
(which I acknowledge to be none of my cafe, having
never fo. little bufinefs as when I am there,) if his horje
be tired with long riding and ill ways, or be naturally
jade, I adviſe him clearly to make the ftraiteft and
the commoneft road, be it ever fo dirty. But then fure-
ly we must own ſuch a man to be a fcurvy companion
at beſt: he spatters himſelf and his fellow-travellers at
every step; all their thoughts, and wishes, and conver-
fation, turn entirely upon the fubject of their journey's
end; and at every fplash, and plunge, and ftumble, they
heartily with one another at the devil.
On the other fide, when a traveller and his horſe are
in heart and plight; when his purfe is full, and the day
before him; he takes the road only where it is clean
...and
ca,
* Vid. Anima magica abfcondita,
To the above mentioned treatiſc, called Anthropofophia Theomagi-
there is another annexed, called Avima magica abfcondita, written
by the fame author, Vaughan, under the name of Eugenius Philale-
thes; but in neither of thoſe treatiſes is there any mention of acha-
moth, or its qualities: fo that this is nothing but amufement, and a
ridicule of dark, unintelligible writers; only the words, a cujus la-
crymis, &c. are, as we have faid, tranfcribed from Irenæus, though I
know not from what part. I believe one of the author's defigns
was, to fet curious men a hunting through indexes, and inquiring
for books out of the common road.
Sect. 11.
125
A TALE OF A TUB.
and convenient; entertains his company there as agree-
ably as he can but, upon the firft occafion, carries them
along with him to every delightful ſcene in view, whe-
ther of art, of nature, or of both; and if they chance to
refufe, out of ſtupidity or weariness, let them jog on by
themſelves, and be 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 hun-
dred noify curs run barking after him; of which if he
honours the boldest with a lab of his whip, it is rather
out of ſport than revenge: but fhould fome fourer mon-
grel dare too near an approach, he receive a falute on the
chaps by an accidental ftroke from the courfer's heels,
(nor is any ground loft by the blow,) which fends him
yelping and limping home.
I now proceed to fum up the fingular adventures of
my renowned Jack; the ſtate of whofe difpofitions and
fortunes the careful reader does, no doubt, moſt exact-
ly remember, as I laft parted with them in the conclu-
fion of a former fection. Therefore his next care muft
be, from two of the foregoing, to extract a fcheme of
notions that may beft fit his underſtanding for. a. true:
reliſh of what is to enfue.
Jack had not only calculated the firft revolution of
his brain fo prudently, as to give rife to that epidemic
fect of alifts, but fucceeding alfo into a new and
ftrange variety of conceptions, the fruitfulness of his
imagination led him into certain notions, which, al-
though in appearance very unaccountable, were not
without their mysteries and their meanings, nor want-
ed followers to countenance and improve them. I fhall
therefore be extremely careful and exact in recounting.
fuch material paffages of this nature, as I have been able
to collect, either from undoubted tradition, or indefa-
tigable reading; and fhall deſcribe them as graphically
as it is poffible, and as far as notions of that height and
latitude can be brought within the compafs of a pen.
Nor do I at all queftion, but they will furnish plenty of
noble matter. for fuch, whofe converting imaginations.
difpofe
By thefe are meant what the author calls, the true critics,
p. 69.
126
A TALE OF A TUB.
difpofe them to reduce all things into types; who can
make shadows, no thanks to the fun; and then mould
them into fubftances, no thanks to philofophy; whoſe
peculiar talent lies in fixing tropes and allegories to the
letter, and refining what is literal into figure and myſte-
ry.
Jack had provided a fair copy of his father's will, in-
groffed in form upon a large ſkin of parchment; and, re-
folving to act the part of a moft dutiful fon, he became
the fondeſt creature of it imaginable. For though, as
I have often told the reader, it confifted wholly in cer-
tain plain, eaſy directions about the management and
wearing of their coats, with legacies and penalties in cafe
of obedience or neglect; yet he began to entertain a
fancy, that the matter was deeper and darker, and there-
fore must needs have a great deal more of myſtery at
the bottom. Gentlemen, faid he, I will prove this very
Skin of parchment to be meat, drink, and cloth; to be the
philofopher's Stone, and the universal medicine. In con-
fequence of which raptures, he refolved to make uſe of
it in the moſt neceffary, as well as the moft paultry oc-
cafions of life. He had a way of working it into any
fhape he pleaſed; fo that it ferved him for a night-cap
when he went to bed, and for an umbrella in rainy
weather. He would lap a piece of it about a fore toe;
or when he had fits, burn two inches under his nofe
or if any thing lay heavy on his ftomach, fcrape off,
and fwallow as much of the powder as would lie on a
filver penny: they were all infallible remedies. With
analogy to thefe refinements, his common talk and con-
verſation ran wholly in the phrafe of his will; † and he
circumfcribed the utmoſt of his eloquence within that
compafs, not daring to let flip a fyllable without autho-
rity from thence. Once, at a strange-houfe, he was
fuddenly taken fhort upon an urgent juncture, whereon
it may not be allowed too particularly to dilate; and
being
The author here lashes thofe prerenders to purity, who place fo
much merit in ufing ſcripture-phraſe on all occafions.
+ The Protestant diffinters ufe fcripture phrafes in their ferious dif-
courſes and compofures, more than the Church of England men. Ac-
cordingly Jack is introduced, making his common talk and conver-
ſation to run wholly in the phraſe of his WILL. W. Wotion.
Sect. 11. A TALE OF A TUB.
127
being not able to call to mind, with that fuddennefs the
occafion required, an authentic phraſe for demanding the
way to the back-ſide; he choſe rather, as the moſt pru-
dent courſe, to incur the penalty in ſuch caſes u´ually an-
nexed. Neither was it poffible for the united rhetoric of
inankind to prevail with him to make himfelf clean again;
becauſe, having confulted the will upon this emergency,
he met with a paffage near the bottom (whether foifted
in by the tranſcriber, is not known) which feemed to
forbid it. *
He made it a part of his religion, never to fay grace
to his meat; nor could all the world perfuade him,
as the common phrafe is, to eat his victuals like a Chri-
ſtion. t
He bore a ftrange kind of appetite to Snap-dragen, §
and to the livid fnuffs of a burning candle; which he
would catch and fwallow with an agility wonderful to
conceive; and by this procedure maintained a perpetual
flame in his belly; which iffued in a glowing ſteam from
both his eyes, as well as his noftrils, and his mouth,
inade his head appear in a dark night, like the fcull
of an afs, wherein a roguifh boy had conveyed a farthing
candle, to the terror of his Majefty's liege fubjects. There-
fore he made uſe of no other expedient to light himſeif
home; but was wont to fay, that a wife man was his own
lantern.
He
* I cannot guefs the author's meaning here, which I would be
very glad to know, becauſe it ſeems to be of importance.
Ibid. Incurring the penalty in fucb cafes ufually annexed, wants no
explanation. He would not make bimfelf clean, because baving confult-
ed the wi!!, (i. e. the New Teſtament,; be met with a poſſage near the
bottom, i. e. in the 11th verfe of the last chapter of the Revelations,
"He which is filthy, let him be filthy ftill," which feemed to forbid
Whether faifted in by the tranfcriber, is added; becaufe this para-
graph is wanting in the Alexandrian MS. the oldeſt and moſt authen-
tic copy of the New Teftament. Harwkef.
it.
+
tics.
The fovenly way of receiving the facrament among the fana-
This is a common phrafe to exprefs eating cleanly, and is meant
for an invective againſt that indecent manner among fome people in
receiving the facrament; fo in the lines before, which is to be un-
derstood of the diffenters refufing to kneel at the facrament.
§ I cannot well find out the author's meaning here, unless it be
the hot, untimely, blind zeal of enthuſiaſts.
128
A TALE OF A TUB.
He would hut his eyes as he walked along the ſtreet
and if he happened to bounce his head against a poft, or
fall into the kennel, as he feldom miffed either to do one
or both, he would tell the gibing apprentices, who
looked on, that he fubmitted, with entire refignation, as
to a trip, or blow of fate, with whom he found by long ex-
perience, how vain it was either to wrestle or to cuff, and
whoever durft undertake to do either, would be fure to come
off with a fwingeing fall, or a bloody nofe. It was ordain-
ed, faid he, fome few days before the creation, that my noje
and this very poſt ſhould have a rencounter; and therefore
Nature thought fit to fend us both into the world in the jame
age, 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
flip is daily got by man, with all his forefight about him?
Befides, the eyes of the understanding fee beft, when those of
the fenfes are out of the way; and therefore blind men are
obferved 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 vijual nerve, which every
little accident fakes out of order, and a drop or film can
wholly dijconcert; like a lamp among a pack of roaring
bullies, when they scour the streets; expoling its owner and
itself, to outward kicks and buffets, which both might have
clcaped, if the vanity of appearing would have ſuffered them
to walk in the dark. But farther, if we examine the conduct
of these boafted lights, it will prove yet a great deal worje
than their fortune. It is true, I have broke my noje against
this post, because fortune either forget, or did not think it con-
vement to twitch me by the elbow, and give me notice to a-
void it. But let not this encourage either the preſent age or
pofterity to trust their noles into the keeping of their eyes;
which may prove the fairest way of lofing them for good and
all. For, O ye eyes, ye blind guides; miferable guardians
are ye of our frail nojes; ye, I fay, who faften upon the first
precipice in view, and then tow our wretched willing bodies
after you, to the very brink of deftruction.
brink of destruction. But, alas! that
brink is rotten, our feet flip, and we tumble down prone iuto a
gulph, without one hoſpitable ſhrub in the way to break the fall;
a fall to whi.b not any nefe of mortal make is equal, except that
of
Sect. 11.
129
A TALE OF A TUB.
of the giant Laurcalco, who was lord of the filver bridge.
Most properly therefore, O eyes, and with great juſtice, may
you be compared to those foolish lights, which conduct men
through dirt and darkneſs, till they fall into a deep pit, or a
noiſome bog.
This I have produced, as a fcantling of Jack's great
eloquence, and the force of his reafoning upon fuch
abftrufe matters.
He was, befides, a perfon of great defign and improve-
ment in affairs of devotion, having introduced a new
deity, who hath fince met with a vaſt number of wor-
fhippers; by fome called Babel, by others, Chaos; who
had an ancient temple of Gothic structure upon Saliſbu-
ry-plain, famous for its fhrine, and celebration by pil-
grims.
When he had ſome roguiſh trick to play, he would
down with his knees, up with his eyes, and fall to pray-
ers, though in the midſt of the kennel. . Then it was
that thofe, who underſtood his pranks, would be ſure
to get far enough out of his way; and whenever curio-
fity attracted strangers to laugh, or to liften, he would
of a fudden with one hand out with his gear, and piſs
full in their eyes, and with the other all befpatter them
with mud.
In winter he went always looſe and unbuttoned,
and clad as thin as poffible, to let in the ambient heat;
and in fummer, lapped himſelf cloſe and thick, to keep
it out. t
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 dextrous,
would make ufe of no other vizor, than a long
prayer. §
• Vide Don Quixote.
G 5
He.
The villanies and cruelties, committed by enthufrafts and fama-
ties among us, were all performed under the diſguiſe of religion and..
long prayers.
+ They affected differences in habit and behaviour,
tion.
They are fevere pe:fecutors, and all in form of cant and devo-
Cromwell and his confedrates went, as they called it, to feck
Ged, when they refolved to muither the King.
103
A TALE OF A TU B.
Had had a tongue fo mufculous and fubtile, that he
could twift it up into his nofe, and deliver a ftrange
kind of fpeech from thence. He was alfo the firſt in
theſe kingdoms who began to improve the Spaniſh ac-
compliſhment of braying; and having large ears, perpe-
tually expoſed and erected, he carried his art to ſuch a
perfection, that it was a point of great difficulty to dif
zinguiſh, either by the view or the found, between the
original and the copy.
He, was troubled with a diſeaſe, reverſe to that called
the ſtinging of the tarantula; and would run dog-mad at
the noife of mufic, efpecially a pair of bag-pipes. † 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 Exchauge, or a ſtate coffee-houſe.
He was a perſon that feared no colours, § but mortally
bated all; and upon that account bore a cruel averfion
against painters, infomuch that in his paroxyfms, as he
walked the ſtreets, he would have his pockets loaden
with ftones, to pelt at the figns.
Having, from this manner of living, frequent occa-
fion to wash himſelf, he would often leap over head and
ears into water, though it were the midſt of winter; and
was always obferved to come out again much dirtier,
poffible, than he went in. §
if
He was the firft that ever found out the fecret of con-
triving a foporiferous medicine to be conveyed in at the
ears. It was a compound of fulphur and balm of Gilead,
with a little pilgrim's falve. ||
He wore a large plaifter of artificial cauftics on his
ftomach, with the fervour of which he could fet himſelf
a groaning, like the famous board upon application of a
red-hot iron.
He would ftand in the turning of a ſtreet; and, call-
ing
+ This is to expofe our diffenters averfion againſt inftrumental
mufic in churches. W. Wotton.
They quarrel at the most innocent decency and ornament, and
defaced the ftatues and paintings on all the churches in England.
Baptifm of adults by plunging. Hawkef.
Fanatic preaching, compofed either of hell or damnation, or a
fulfome deſcription of the joys of heaven; both in ſuch a dirty, naufe-
ous style, as to be well refembled to pilgrim's falve.
Sect. 11. A TALE OF A TUB.
131
ing to those who paffed by, would cry to one, Iorthy
Sir, do me the honour of a good flap in the chaps; to ano-
ther, Honest friend, pray favour me with a handſome kick
on the arfe. Madam, ſhall I intreat a ſmall box on the ear
from your Ladyship's fair hand? Noble Captain, lend a
reaſonable thwack for the love of God, with that cane if
yours, over these poor fhoulders. And when he had, by
‡
fuch earneſt folicitations, made a ſhift to procure a baſt-
ing fufficient to fwell up his fancy and his fides, he
would return home extremely comforted, and full of
terrible accounts of what he had undergone for the public
good. Obferve this ftroke, faid he, fhewing his bare
fhoulders, a plaguy janifary gave it me this very morning
at ſeven a-clock, as, with much ado, I was driving off the
Great Turk. Neighbours, mind this broken head deferves
a plaifter. 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 Chriftians, the Great Mogul was come as far as
I'bite-chapel; and you may thank theſe poor fides, that be
bath not (God bless us) already fwallowed up man, woman,
and child.
It was highly worth obferving the fingular effects of
that averfion or antipathy which Jack and his brother
Peter feemed, even to an affectation, to bear againſt
each other. Peter had lately done fome rogueries, that
forced him to abfcond; and he feldom ventured to ftir
out before night for fear of bailiffs. Their lodgings
were at the two moſt diſtant parts of the town, from
cach other; and whenever their occafions or humours
called them abroad, they would make choice of the
oddeft unlikely times, and most uncouth rounds, they
could
The Fanatics have always had a way of affecting to run into
perfecution, and count valt merit upon every little hardship they
fufer.
The Papifis and Fanatics, though they appear the moſt averſe
againſt each other, yet bear a near reſemblance in many things, as
hath been obferved by learned men.
Ibid. The agreement of our Diffenters and the Papifts, in that
which Bishop Stillingflect called, The fanaticism of the church of Rome,
is ludicrously defcribed for feveral pages together, by Jack's likeness
to Peter, and their being often mistaken for each other, and their
frequent meetings when they leaft intended it, W. Wotton.
332
A TALE OF A TUB.
could invent, that they might be fure to avoid one ano-
ther. Yet, after all this, it was their perpetual fortune
to meet. The reaſon of which is eafy enough to appre-
hend: for the phrenzy and the spleen of both having
the fame foundation, we may look upon them as two
pair of compaffes, equally extended, and the fixed foot
of each remaining in the fame centre; which though
moving contrary ways at firſt, will be fure to encounter
fomewhere or other in the circumference. Befides, it
was among the great misfortunes of Jack, to bear a huge
perfonal refemblance with his brother Peter. Their
humour and difpofitions were not only the fame, but
there was a clofe analogy in their fhape and fize, and
their mien; infomuch as nothing was more frequent,
than for a bailiff to feize Jack by the fhoulders, and cry,
Mr. Peter, you are the King's prisoner; or, at other times,
for one of Peter's neareſt friends, to accolt Jack with
open arms, Dear Peter, I am glad to see thee; pray, fend
me one of your best medicines for the worms. This, we
may ſuppoſe, was a mortifying return of thofe pains
and proceedings Jack had laboured in fo long; and
finding how directly oppofite all his endeavours had an-
fwered to the fole end and intention which he had pro-
poſed to himſelf, how could it avoid having terrible
effects upon a head and heart fo furniſhed as his? How-
ever, the poor remainders of his coat bore all the pu-
nishment. The orient fun never entered upon his diur-
nal progrefs, without mifling a piece of it. He hired a
tailor to stitch up the collar fo clofe, that it was ready
to choke him, and fqueezed out his eyes at fuch a rate
as one could fee nothing but the white. What little
was left of the main fubftance of the coat, he rub-
bed every day, for two hours, against a rough-caft
wall, in order to grind away the remnants of lace and
embroidery; but, at the fame time, went on with fo much
violence, that he proceeded a Heathen pbilofopher. Yet,
after all he could do of this kind, the fuccefs continued
ftill to diſappoint his expectation. For as it is the na-
ture of rags, to bear a kind of mock refemblance to
finery; there being a fort of fluttering appearance in
both, which is not to be diftinguiſhed at a diſtance, in
he dark, or by fhort-fighted eyes: fo, in thofe junc-
ture
Sect. 11.
A TALE OF A TUB.
133
tures, it fared with Jack and his tatters, that they of-
fered to the firſt view a ridiculous flaunting; which, affi-
fting the reſemblance in perfon and air, thwarted all his
projects of feparation, and left fo near a fimilitude be-
tween them, as frequently deceived the very diſciples
and followers of both.
*
Defunt non-
nulla.
*
*
*
The old Sclavonian proverb faid well, That it is with
men, as with affes; whoever would keep them fast, must
find a very good bold at their ears. Yet I think we may
affirm, that it hath been verified by repeated experience,
that,
Effugiet tamen hæc fceleratus vincula Proteus.
It is good, therefore, to read the maxims of our an-
ceſtors with great allowances to times and perfons. For,
if we look into primitive records, we fhall find, that no
revolutions have been ſo great, or fo frequent, as thoſe
of human ears. In former days, there was a curious
invention to catch and keep them; which, I think,
we may juſtly reckon among the artes perditæ. And how
can it be otherwife, when, in thefe latter centuries, the
very ſpecies is not only diminiſhed to a very lamentable
degree, but the poor remainder is alfo degenerated fo
far, as to mock our fkilfulleft tenure? For if the only
flitting of one ear in a ftag hath been found fufficient to
propagate the defect though a whole foreft, why fhould
we wonder at the greatest confequences, for fo many
loppings and mutilations, to which the ears of our fathers,
and our own, have been of late fo much expofed? It is
true, indeed, that while this island of ours was under the
dominion of grace, many endeavours were made to improve
the growth of cars once more among us.
The pro-
portion of largenefs was not only looked upon as an or-
nament of the outward man, but as a type of grace in
the inward. Befides, it is held by naturaliits, that if
there be a protuberancy of parts in the fuperior region
of the body, as in the ears and nofe, there mult be a pa-
rity
134.
A TALE OF A TUB.
rity alfo in the inferior. And therefore, in that truly
pious age, the males in every affembly, according as they
were gifted, appeared very forward in expofing their
ears to view, and the regions about them; becauſe Hip-
pocrates tells us, that when the vein behind the ear hap-
pens to be cut, a man becomes an eunuch. * And the females
were nothing backwarder in beholding and edifying by
them whereof thoſe who had already uſed the means,
looked about them with great concern, in hopes of con-
ceiving a fuitable offspring by fuch a profpect. Others,
who flood candidates for benevolence, found there a plen-
tiful choice, and were fure to fix upon fuch as difcover-
ed the largest cars, that the breed might not dwindle
between them. Laftly, the devouter filters, who looked
upon all extraordinary dilatations of that member, as
protrufions of zeal, or fpiritual excrefcences, were fure to
honour every head they fat upon, as if they had been
marks of grace; but efpecically that of the preacher, whoſe
ears were ufually of the prime magnitude; which, up-
on that account, he was very frequent and exact in
expofing with all advantages to the people; in his rhe-
torical paroxyfms turning fometimes to hold forth the one,
and fometimes to hold forth the other. From which
cuftom, the whole operation of preaching is to this very
day, among their profeffors, flyled by the phrafe of hold-
ing forth.
Such was the progrefs of the faints for advancing the
fize of that member; and it is thought, the fuccefs
would have been every way anfwerable, if, in procefs
of time, a cruel king had not aroſe, who raiſed a bloody
perfecution against all ears above a certain ftandard. †
Upon which, fome were glad to hide their flourishing
ſprouts in a black border; others crept wholly under a
periwig; fome were flit, others cropped, and a great
number fliced off to the flumps. But of this more here-
after in my gencral history of ears; which I defign very
ſpeedily to bestow upon the public.
From this brief furvey of the falling ftate of ears in
* Lib. de aëre, locis, et aquis.
the
This was K. Charles II. who, at his reſtoration, turned out all
the diffenting teachers that would not conform.
sect. 11. A TALE OF A TU B.
135
the laſt age, and the final care had to advance their
ancient growth in the prefent, it is manifeft, how little
reaſon we can have to rely upon a hold fo ſhort, ſo
weak, and fo flippery; and that whoever defires to
catch mankind faft, muft have recourfe to fome other
methods. Now, he that will examine human nature
with circumfpection enough, may difcover feveral han-
dles, whereof the fix* fenfes afford one a-piece, beſide a
great number that are fcrewed to the paffions, and ſome
few rivetted to the intellect. Among thefe laft, curiosity
is one, and, of all others, affords the firmeft grafp;
curiofity, that fpur in the fide, that bridle in the
mouth, that ring in the nofe, of a lazy and impatient,
and a grunting reader. By this handle it is, that an
author ſhould feize upon his readers; which as foon as
he hath once compaffed, ali refiftance and ſtruggling are
in vain; and they become his prisoners as cloſe as he
pleaſes, till wearinefs or dulnefs force him to let go his
gripe.
*
And therefore I, the author of this miraculous treatiſe,
having hitherto, beyond expectation, maintained, by
the aforesaid handle, a firm hold upon my gentle rea-
ders; it is with great reluctance, that I am at length
compelled to remit my grafp; leaving them in the ge-
rufal of what remains to that natural ofcitancy inherent
in the tribe. I can only affure thee, courteous reader,
for both our comforts, that my concern is altogether
equal to thine, for my unhappineſs in lofing, or miflay-
ing among my papers, the remaining part of thefe me-
moirs; which confifted of accidents, turns, and adven-
tures, both new, agreeable, and furpriſing; and there-
fore calculated, in all due points, to the delicate tafte
of this our noble age. But, alas! with my utmoft en-
deavours, 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
reconcilement between Jack and him, upon a defign
they had in a certain rainy night to trepan brother Mar-
tin into a ſpunging-houfe, and there ftrip him to the ſkin:†
*Including Scaliger's.
how
In the reign of K. James II. the Prefbyterians, by the King's
invitation,
136
A TALE OF A TU B.
how Martin, with much ado, fhewed them both a fair
pair of heels; how a new warrant came out against
Peter; upon which, how Jack left him in the lurch,
ftole 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 horje,* and eat custard. But the particu-
‡
lars of all thefe, with feveral others, which have now
flid out of my memory, are loft beyond all hopes of re-
covery. For which misfortune, leaving my readers to
condole with each other, as far as they fhall find it to
agree with their feveral conftitutions; but conjuring.
them by all the friendship that hath paffed between us
from the tide-page to this, not to proceed fo far as to
injure their healths for an accident paft remedy: I now
go on to the ceremonial part of an accomplished writer;
and therefore, by a courtly modern, leaft of all others to
be omitted.
G
THE CONCLUSION.
OING too long is a caufe of abortion as effectual
though not fo frequent, as going too short; and
holds true eſpecially in the labours of the brain. Well
fare the heart of that noble Jefuit † who firſt adven-
tured to confefs in print, that books, muſt be ſuited to
their feveral feafons, like drefs, and diet, and diver-
fions and better fare our noble nation, for refining up-
on this, among other French modes. I am living faſt
to fee the time, when a book that miffes its tide, fhalt
be.
invitation, joined with the Papifis, againſt the church of England,
and addreffed him for repeal of the penal laws and teſt.
The King,
by his difpenfing power, gave liberty of confcience, which both Pa-
pifts and Prefbyterians made uſe of. But, upon the revolution, the
Papifts being down of course, the Prefbyterians freely continued their
affemblies, by virtue of K. James's indulgence, before they had a
toleration by law. This, I believe, the author means by Jack's
ftealing Peter's protection, and making uſe of it himſelf.
* Sir Humphrey Edwyn, a Prefbyterian, was fome years ago Lord,
Mayor of London, and had the infolence to go in his formalities to a
conventicle, with the enfigns of his office.
Cuſtard is a famous diſh at a Lord Mayor's feaſt,
↑ Pere d'Orleans.
The Conclufion.
137
be neglected, as the moon by day, or like mackarel a week
after the ſeaſon. No man hath more nicely obferved
our climate, than the bookfeller 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-glafs is fallen to much rain.
When he had ſeen this treatiſe, and conſulted his alma-
nack upon it, he gave me to underſtand, that he had
inanifeftly confidered the two principal things, which
were the bulk and the ſubject; and found, it would ne-
ver take, but after a long vacation; and then only, in
cafe it fhould happen to be a hard year for turnips.
Upon which I defired to know, confidering my urgent
neceffities, what he thought might be acceptable this
month. He looked westward, and faid, I doubt we shall
have a fit of bad weather; however, if you could prepare
Some pretty little banter, (but not in verfe,) or a ſmall
treatiſe upon the
it would run like wild-fire. But
if it hold up, I have already hired an author to write
Something against Dr. Bentley, which, I am fure, will turn
to account. I
>
At length we agreed upon the expedient, That when.
a cuſtoraer comes for one of theſe, and deſires in confi-
dence to know the author; he will tell him very pri-
vately, as a friend, naming which ever of the wits fhall
happen to be that week in vogue; and if Durfey's laſt
play ſhould be in courſe, I had as lieve he may be the
perfon as Congreve. This I mention, becauſe I am
wonderfully well acquainted with the prefent reliſh of
courteous readers; and have often obferved with fin-
gular pleaſure, that a fly driven from a honey-pot, will im-
mediately with very good appetite alight, and finish his
meal on an excrement.
I have one word to fay upon the fubject of profound
writers, who are grown very numerous of late; and, I
know very well, the judicious world is refolved to liſt
me in that number. I conceive therefore, as to the
buſineſs of being profound, that it is with writers, as
with
When Dr. Prideaux brought the copy of his connection of the
Old and New Teſtament to the bookfeller, he told him, it was a
dry Jubject, and the printing could not fafely be ventured, unless be
could enliven it with a little bumour. Hawkef.
138
A TALE OF A TUB.
with wells; a perfon with good eyes may fee to the bot-
tom of the deepeft, provided any water be there; and
often, when there is nothing in the world at the bottom,
befides driness and dirt, though it be but a yard and half
under ground, it fhall pass however for wondrous deep,
upon no wifer a reafon, than becauſe it is wondrous
dark.
I am now trying an experiment very frequent among
modern authors; which is, to write upon nothing: when
the fubject is utterly exhaufted, to let the pen ftill move
on; by fome called, the ghoft 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 difcerning when to have done. By the time that
an author hath written out a book, he and his readers are
become old acquaintance, and grow very loth to part;
fo that I have fometimes known it to be in writing, as
in vifiting, where the ceremony of taking leave has em-
ployed more time than the whole converfation before.
The conclufion of a treatife refembles the conclufion of
human life, which hath fometimes been compared to
the end of a feaft; where few are fatisfied to depart,
at plenus vite conviva: for men will fit down after the
fulleft meal, though it be only to doze, or to fleep out the
reft of the day. But, in this latter, I differ extremely
from other writers; and fhall be too proud, if, by all
my labours, I can have any ways contributed to the
repose of mankind in times fo turbulent and unquiet as
theſe. *
Neither do I think fuch an employment fo
very alien from the office of a wit, as fome would fup-
pole. For among a very polite nation in Greece, there
were the ſame temples built and confecrated to Sleep
and the Mules, between which two deities they believed
the strictest friendſhip was eſtabliſhed ||
I have one concluding favour to request of my reader,
That he will not expect to be equally diverted and in-
formed by every line, or every page of this difcourfe;
but give fome allowance to the author's fpleen, and
fhort
*This was written before the peace of Ryfwick, which was fign-
ed in September 1697.
Trezenii, Paufan. 1. 2.
1
The Conclufion.
139
short fits or intervals of dulnefs, as well as his own; and
lay it feriously to his confcience, whether, if he were
walking the streets in dirty weather, or a rainy day, he
would allow it fair dealing in folks at their eafe from a
window to criticife his gait, and ridicule his dreſs at ſuch
a juncture.
In my difpofure of employments of the brain, I have
thought fit to make invention the mafter, and to give
method and reaſon the office of his lacqueys. The cauſe of
this diſtribution was, from obferving it my peculiar cafe
to be often under a temptation of being witty upon oc-
caſions, where I could be neither wife nor found, nor any
thing to the matter in hand. And I am too much a fer-
vant of the modern way, to neglect any fuch opportuni-
ties, whatever pains or improprieties I may be at to in-
troduce them. For I have obſerved, that from a labo-
rious collection of feven hundred thirty-eight flowers,
and fining hints of the best modern authors, digefted
with great reading into my book of common places; I have
not been able, after five years, to draw, hook, or force
into common converfation, any more than a dozen. ΟΙ
which dozen, the one moiety failed of fuccefs, by being
dropped among unfuitable company; and the other coft
me fo many ftrains, and traps, and ambages to introduce,
that I at length refolved to give it over. Now, this
diſappointment, (to difcover a fecret,) I must own, gave
me the first hint of fetting up for an author; and I have
fince found among fome particular friends, that it is be-
come a very general complaint, and has produced the
fame effects upon many others. For I have reniarked
many a towardly word to be wholly neglected or deſpif-
ed in difcourfe, which hath paffed very fmoothly, with
fome confideration and efteem, after its preferment and
fanction in print. But now, fince, by the liberty and
encouragement of the prefs, I am grown abfolute mafter
of the occafions and opportunities to expofe the talents I
have acquired; I already difcover, that the ifues of my
obfervanda begin to grow too large for the receipts:
Therefore I ſhall here pauſe a while, till I find, by feel-
ing the world's pulfe, and my own, that it will be of
abfolute neceflity for us both to refume my pen.
A full
[ 140 ]
A full and true Account of the BATTLE
fought laſt Friday, between the ANCIENT
and the MODERN Books in St. James's
Library.
T
The BOOKSELLER to the READER.
HE following difcourfe, as it is unquestionably of
the fame Author, fo it feems to have been writ-
ten about the fame time with the former; I mean, the
year 1697, when the famous difpute was on foot, about
ancient and modern learning. The controverfy took its rife
from an effay of Sir William Temple's upon that fub.
ject; which was anfwered by W. Wotton, B. D. with
an appendix by Dr. Bently, endeavouring to deftroy the
credit of Afop and Phalaris for authors, whom Sir
William Temple had, in the effay before mentioned,
highly commended. In that appendix, 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
difpute, the town highly refented to fee a perfon of Sir
William Temple's character and merits roughly uſed by
the two Reverend gentlemen aforefaid, 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 themfelves as parties
principally concerned, took up the controverfy, and
came to a decifive battle; but the manufcript, by the
injury of fortune or weather, being in feveral places im-
perfect, we cannot learn to which fide the victory fell.
I must warn the reader, to beware of applying to per-
fons, what is here meant only of books in the moft literal
fenfe. So, when Virgil is mentioned, we are not to un-
derſtand the perfon of a famous poet called by that name;
but only certain fheets of paper, bound up in leather,
containing in print the works of the faid poet; and fo
of the reſt.
The
[ 141 ]
The PREFACE of the AUTHOR.
Atire is a fort of glass, wherein beholders do gene-
SA
rally diſcover every body's face but their own;
which is the chief reafon for that kind reception it meets
with in the world, and that fo very few are offended
with it. But if
But if it fhould happen otherwife, 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 anger and fury,
though they add ftrength to the finews of the body, yet are
found to relax thofe of the mind, and to render all its
efforts feeble and impotent.
There is a brain that will endure but one fcumming :
let the owner gather it with diſcretion, and manage his
little ſtock with huſbandry. But of all things, let him
beware of bringing it under the lab of his betters; be-
caufe that will make it all bubble up into impertinence,
and he will find no new ſupply: Wit without know-
ledge being a fort of cream, which gathers in a night to
the top, and by a ſkilful hand may be foon whipped
into froth; but once fcummed away, what appears un-
derneath, will be fit for nothing, but to be thrown to the
hogs.
A full
[ 142 ]
A full and true Account of the BATTLE
fought laft Friday, &c. *
WHOEVER examines with due circumfpection
W into the annual records of time, will find it re-
marked, that war is the child of Pride, and pride the
daughter of Riches. The former of which affertions
may be foon granted; but one cannot ſo eaſily
fubfcribe to the latter. For Pride is nearly related to
Beggary
The Battle of the Books took its rife from a controverſy between
Sir William Temple and Mr. Wotton; a controverfy which made
much noiſe, and employed many pens towards the latter end of the
laft century. This humorous treatife is drawn up in an heroic comic
ftyle, in which Swift, with great wit and ſpirit, gives the victory to
the former. The general plan is excellent, but particular parts are
defective. The frequent chafms puzzle and interrupt the narra-
tive: they neither convey any latent ideas; nor point out any diftin&
or occult farcafms. Some characters are barely touched upon, which
might have been extended; others are enlarged, which might have
been contracted. The name of Horace is inferted; and Virgil is
introduced only for an opportunity of comparing his tranflator Dry-
den, to the lady in a lobſter; to a mouse under a canopy of ſtate; and to a
fhrivelled beau within the pent-boufe of a full-bottomed periwig.
Thefe fimiles carry the true ftamp of ridicule. But rancour muſt
be very prevalent in the heart of an author, who could overlook the
merits of Dryden; many of whofe dedications and prefaces are as
fine compofitions, and as juft pieces of criticiſm, as any in our lan-
guage. The tranflation of Virgil was a work of hafte and indi-
gence. Dryden was equal to the undertaking, but unfortunate du-
ring the conduct of it. The two chief heroes among the modern
generals, are Wotton and Bentley. Their figures are diſplayed in
the moſt diſadvantageous attitudes. The former is defcribed, "full
The latter is reprefented,
"of fpleen, dulnels, and ill manners."
tall, without fhape or comelinefs; large, without ftrength or pro-
"portion."-- -The battle, which is maintained by the ancients
with great fuperiority of ftrength, though not of numbers, ends with
the demolition of Bentley, and his friend Wotton, by the lance of
the Honourable Charles Boyle, youngeſt fon of Roger the fecond
Earl of Orrery, and father of the prefent Earl, He was a fellow of
the royal focicty, and invented the aſtronomical machine called the
Orrery. Orrery.
+Riches produceth pride; pride is war's ground, &c. Vid.
Ephem. de Mary Clarke; opt. edit. —now called Wing's fheet alma-
nack, and printed by J. Roberts for the company of Stationers.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS, 143
Beggary and Want, either by father or mother, and
fometimes by both: and, to fpeak naturally, it very fel-
dom happens among men to fall out, when all´have
enough; invafions ufually travelling from worth to fouth,
that is to ſay, from Poverty to Plenty. The inoft an-
cient and natural grounds of quarrels are Luft and Avarice;
which, though we may allow to be brethren or collate-
ral branches of Pride, are certainly the iflues of Want.
For, to speak in the phrafe of writers upon politics, we
may obferve in the republic of Dogs, which in its origi-
nal feems to be an inftitution of the many, that the whole
ftate is ever in the profoundest peace, after a full meal;
and that civil broils arife among them, when it hap-
pens for one great bone to be feized on by fome leading
dog; who either divides it among the few, and then it
falls to an oligarchy; or keeps it to himself, and then it
runs up to a tyranny. The fame reaſoning alfo holds
place among them, in thofe diffenfions we behold upon
a turgefcency in any of the females. For, the right of
poffeffion lying in common, (it being impoffible to eſta-
bliſh a property in fo delicate a cafe,) jealoufies and fuf-
picions do fo abound, that the whole commonwealth of
that ſtreet is reduced to a manifeſt ſtate of war, of every
citizen against every citizen; till fome one of more cou-
rage, conduct, or fortune than the reft, feizes and en-
joys the prize: upon which naturally arifes plenty of
heart-burning, and envy and fnarling againſt the happy
dog. Again, if we look upon any of theie republics en-
gaged in a foreign war, either of invafion or defence, we
fhall find, the faine reafoning will ferve as to the grounds
and occafions of each; and that Poverty or Want, in
fome degree or other, (whether real, or in opinion, which
makes no alteration in the cafe) has a great ſhare, as well
as Pride, on the part of the aggreffor.
Now, whoever will pleafe to take this fcheme, and
either reduce or adapt it to an intellectual ftate, or com-
monwealth of learning, will foon difcover the firft
ground of dilagreement between the two great parties.
at this time in arms; and may form juft conclufions.
upon the merits of either caufe. But the iffue or events
of this war are not fo eafy to conjecture at: for the
prefent quarrel is fo inflamed by the warm heads of ei-
ther
144 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
:
ther faction, and the pretenfions fomewhere or other fo
exorbitant, as not to admit the leaft overtures of ac-
commodation. This quarrel firſt began, as I have heard
it affirmed by an old dweller in the neighbourhood, a-
bout a fmall pot of ground, lying and being upon one of
the two tops of the hill Parnaflus; the higheft and largeſt
of which had, it ſeems, been, time out of mind, in quiet
poffeffion of certain tenants called the Ancients; and the
other was held by the Moderns. But theſe diſliking
their prefent ftation, fent certain ambaffadors to the
Ancients, complaining of a great nuifance; how the
height of that part of Parnaflus quite fpoiled the pro-
fpect of theirs, eſpecially towards the east and there-
fore, to avoid a war, offered them the choice of this al-
ternative, Either that the Ancients would pleaſe to remove
themſelves and their effects down to the lower fummity,
which the Moderns would graciouſly furrender to them,
and advance in their place; or elfe that the faid An-
cients will give leave to the Moderns to come with fhovels
and mattocks, and level the faid hill as low as they fhall
think it convenient. To which the Ancients made
anfwer, How little they expected fuch a meſſage as this,
from a colony whom they had admitted, out of their
own free grace, to fo near a neighbourhood: That as to
their own feat, they were Aborigines of it; and there-
fore to talk with them of a removal or furrender, was a
language they did not underſtand: That if the height of
the hill on their fide ſhortened the proſpect of the Mo-
derns, it was a difadvantage they could not help; but
defired them to confider, whether that injury (if it be
any) were not largely recompenfed by the fade and
fhelter it afforded them: That as to the levelling or dig-
ging down, it was either folly or ignorance to propoſe it,
if they did not know, how that fide of the hill was
an entire rock, which would break their tools and
hearts without any damage to itfelf: That they would
therefore advife the Moderns, rather to raiſe their
own fide of the hill, than dream of pulling down
that of the Ancients; to the former of which they would
not only give licence, but alfo largely contribute. All
this was rejected by the Moderns, with much indig-
nation: who ſtill infifted upon one of the two expe-
dients.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
145
dients. And fo this difference broke out into a long and
obftinate war; maintained on the one part by refolution,
and by the courage of certain leaders and allies; but on
the other, by the greatnefs of their number, upon all
defeats affording continual recruits. In this quarrel,
whole rivulets of ink have been exhauſted, and the viru-
lence of both parties enormously augmented. Now, it
muſt here be underſtood, that ink is the great miffive
weapon in all battles of the learned, which conveyed
through a fort of engine called a quill, infinite numbers
of theſe are darted at the enemy, by the valiant on each
fide, with equal ſkill and violence, as if it were an en-
gagement of porcupines. This malignant liquor was
compounded by the engineer who invented it, of two
ingredients, which are gall and copperas; by its bitterness
and venom to fuit in fome degree, as well as to foment,
the genius of the combatants. And as the Grecians, af-
ter an engagement, when they could not agree about the
victory, were wont to fet up trophies on both ſides ;
the beaten party being content to be at the fame expence
to keep itſelf in countenance, (a laudable and ancient
custom happily revived of late in the art of war;) fo
the learned, after a fharp and bloody difpute, do on
both fides hang out their trophies too, whichever comes
by the worst. Theſe trophies have largely infcribed on
them the merits of the caufe; a full impartial account
of fuch a battle, and how the victory fell clearly to the
party that fet them up. They are known to the world
under feveral names; as, Disputes, Arguments, Rejoin-
ders, Brief Conſiderations, Anſwers, Replies, Remarks,
Reflections, Objections, Confutations. For a very few days
they are fixed up in all public places, either by them-
felves or their reprefentatives, for paffengers to gaze
at from whence the chiefeft and largeft are removed
to certain magazines, they call libraries, there to remain
in a quarter purposely affigned them, and from thence-
forth begin to be called looks of controversy.
In thefe books is wonderfully inftilled and preferved.
the fpirit of each warrior, while he is alive; and after
VOL. I.
H
his
Their title-pages.
146
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
his death, his foul tranfmigrates there, to inform them.
This, at leaſt, is the more common opinion. But I be-
lieve, it is with libraries as with other cemeteries,
where fome philofophers affirm, that a certain ſpirit,
which they call brutum hominis, hovers over the monu-
ment, till the body is corrupted, and turns to duft or
to worms, but then vanishes or diffolves: fo, we may
fay, a reſtleſs ſpirit haunts over every book, till duft or
worms have ſeized upon it; which to fome may happen
in a few days, but to others later And therefore books
of controversy, being of all others haunted by the moſt
diforderly ipirits, have always been confined in a feparate
lodge from the reft; and for fear of mutual violence
against each other, it was thought prudent by our an-
ceſtors, to bind them to the peace with frong iron
chains. Of which invention the original occafion was
this. When the works of Scotus first came out, they
were carried to a certain great library, and had lodgings
appointed them: but this author was no fooner fettled,
than he went to vifit his maſter Ariftotle; and there
both concerted together to feize Plato by main force,
and turn him out from his ancient ftation among the
divines, where he had peaceably dwelt near eight hun-
dred years. The attempt fucceeded, and the two ufur-
pers have reigned ever fince in his ſtead. But to main-
tain quiet for the future, it was decreed, that all polemics
of the larger fize fhould be held faft with a chain.
By this expedient, the public peace of libraries might
certainly have been preferved, if a new fpecies of con-
troverfial books had not arofe of late years, inftinct with
a moſt malignant fpirit, from the war above mentioned,
between the learned, about the higher fummity of
Parnaffus.
!
When these books were firft admitted into the public
libraries, I remember to have faid upon occafion, to
feveral perfons concerned, how I was fure they would
create broils where-ever they came, unless a world of
care were taken; and therefore I advised, that the
champions of each fide fhould be coupled together, or
otherwife mixed; that, like the blending of contrary
poifons, their malignity might be employed among
them felves.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
147
:
themſelves. And it ſeems I was neither an ill prophet,
nor an ill counſellor for it was nothing else but the neg-
lect of this caution which gave occafion to the terrible
fight that happened on Friday laſt between the Ancient
and Modern books in the King's library. Now, becaufe
the talk of this battle is fo freſh in every body's mouth,
and the expectation of the town fo great, to be informed
in the particulars; I being poffeffed of all qualifications
requifite in an hiftorian, and retained by neither party,
have refolved to comply with the urgent importunity of
my friends, by writing down a full impartial account
thereof.
The guardian of the regal library, a perfon of great
valour, but chiefly renowned for his humanity, had
been a fierce champion for the Moderns; and, in an en-
gagement upon Parnaffus, had vowed, with his own
hands to knock down two of the Ancient chiefs, who
guarded a ſmall pafs on the fuperior rock: but endea-
vouring to climb up, was cruelly obftructed by his own
unhappy weight, and tendency towards his centre: A
quality to which thofe of the Modern party are extreme
fubject; for, being light-headed, they have in fpeculati-
on a wonderful agility, and conceive nothing too high
for them to mount; but in reducing to practice, difco-
ver a mighty preffure about their pofteriors and their
heels. Having thus failed in his defign, the difappoint-
ed champion bore a cruel rancour to the Antients ; which
he refolved to gratify, by fhewing all marks of his fa-
vour to the books of their adverfaries, and lodging them
in the fairest apartments; when at the fame time, what-
ever book had the boldnefs to own itfelf for an advo-
cate of the Ancients, was buried alive in fome obfcure
corner, and threatened upon the leaft difpleaſure, to
be turned out of doors. Befides it fo happened,
that about this time there was a ſtrange confuſion of
place among all the books in the library; for which feve-
ral reaſons were affigned. Some imputed it to a great
heap
H 2
The Honourable Mr. Boyle, in the preface to his edition of
Phalaris, fays, he was refufed a manufcript by the library keeper,
pro folita humanitate fua.
Ibid. Dr. Bentley was then library-keeper. The two ancients
were Phalaris and fop. Harvkes.
143 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
heap of learned duft, which a perverfe wind blew off
from a fhelf of Moderns into the keeper's eyes. Others af-
firmed, he had a humour to pick the worms out of the
Jchoolmen, and fwallow them freſh and fatting; whereof
fome fell upon his fpleen, and fome 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 loft the fituation of it out
of his head; and therefore, in replacing his books, he
was apt to miſtake, and clap Des Cartes next to Aristotle;
poor Plato had got between Hobbes and the Seven wife
maſters; and Virgil was hemmed in with Dryden on
one fide, and Withers on the other.
Mean while, thoſe books that were advocates for the
Moderns, chofe 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 mefienger performed all things very induftrioufly,
and brought back with him a lift of their forces, in all
fifty thouſand, confifting chiefly of light horje, heavy-
armed foot, and mercenaries: whereof the foot were, in
general, but forrily armed, and worfe clad: their korjes
large, but extremely out of cafe and heart. However,
fome few, by trading among the Ancients, had furnifned
themſelves tolerably enough.
While things were in this ferment, Diſcord grew ex-
tremely high, hot words paffed on both fides, and ill
blood was plentifully bred. Here a folitary Ancient,
fqueezed up among a whole fhelf of Moderns, offered
fairly to dispute the cafe, and to prove, by manifeſt rea-
fon, that the priority was due to them, from long pof-
feffion, and in regard to their prudence, antiquity, and
above all, their great merits towards the Moderns. But
thefe denied the premifes; and feemed very much to
wonder, how the Ancients could pretend to infift upon
their antiquity, when it was fo plain, (if they went to
that,) that the Moderns were much the more ancient I of
As for any obligations they owed to the An-
cients, they renounced them all. "It is true," faid
they, we are informed fome few of our party have
" been
the two.
CC
According to the modern paradox,
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
149
"been fo mean to borrow their fubfiftence from you.
"But the reft, infinitely the greater number, (and efpe.
cially we French and Engliſh,) were fo far from
tooping to fo baſe an example, that there never paí-
"fed, till this very hour, fix words between us.
"
<<
For
our borfes were of our own breeding, our arms of our
own forging, and our cloaths of our own cutting out
" and ſewing. Plato was by chance upon the next
fhelf, and obferving thoſe that ſpoke to be in the rag-
ged plight mentioned a while ago; their jades lean and
foundered, their weapons of rotten wood, their armour.
rufty, and nothing but rags underneath; he laughed
loud, and, in his pleafant way, fwore, By
lieved them.
be be-
Now, the Moderns had not proceeded in their late
negotiation, with fecrecy enough to efcape the notice.
of the enemy.
For thofe advocates who had begun the
quarrel, by fetting firft on foot the difpute of preceden-
cy, talked fo loud of coming to a battle, that Temple-
happened to overhear them, and gave immediate intel--
ligence to the Ancients; who thereupon drew up their
fcattered troops together, refolving to act upon the de-
fenfive. Upon which feveral of the Moderns fled over to
their party, and among the rest Temple himſelf. This
Temple having been educated and long converfed among
the Ancients, was of all the Moderns their greateſt favou--
rite, and became their greateſt champion.
Things were at this crifis, when a material accident
fell out.
For, upon the higheſt corner of a large win--
dow, there dwelt a certain spider, fwollen up to the first
magnitude by the deſtruction of infinite numbers of flies,
whofe fpoils lay fcattered before the gates of his palace,
like human bones before the cave of fome giant. The
avenues to his caftle were guarded with turnpikes and
palitadoes, al after the modern way of fortification. Af
ter you had paſſed ſeveral courts, you came to the cen-
tre, wherein you might behold the conftable himſelf in
his own lodgings, which had windows fronting to each
avenue, and ports to fally out upon all occafions of
prey
or defence. In this maniion he had for fome time dwelt
in peace and plenty, without danger to his perfon by
Swallows from above, or to his palace by brooms from
below:
150
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
J
below; when it was the pleaſure of Fortune to conduct
thither a wandering bee, to whofe curiofity a broken
pane in the glafs had diſcovered itſelf and in he went;
where expatiating a while, he at laft happened to a-
light upon one of the outward walls of the Spider's ci-
tadel; which yielding to the unequal weight, funk down
to the very foundation. Thrice he endeavoured to force
his paffage, and thrice the centre fhook. The Spider
within feeling the terrible convulfion, fuppofed at firſt,
that Nature was approaching to her final diffolution; or
elſe, that Beelzebub, with all his legions, was coine to
revenge the death of many thouſands of his fubjects,
whom his enemy had flain and devoured. However,
he at length valiantly refolved to iffue forth and meet
his fate. Mean while the bee had acquitted himſelf of
his toils, and poſted ſecurely at ſome diſtance, was em-
ployed in cleanfing his wings, and difengaging them
from the ragged remnants of the cobweb. By this time
the spider was adventured out; when, beholding the
chaims, the ruins, and dilapidations of his fortreſs, he
was very near at his wit's end. He ftormed and fwore
like a madman, and fwelled till he was ready to burſt.
At length, cafting his eye upon the bee, and wifely ga-
thering caufes from events, (for they knew each other
by fight;)" A plague fplit you, faid he, " for a giddy
fon of a whore. Is it you, with a vengeance, that
"have made this litter here? Could not you look
"before you, and be d-n'd? Do you think I have no-
thing else to do, (in the devil's name,) but to mend
"and repair after your arte ?" "Good words, friend,"
(faid the bee, having now pruned himſelf, and being
difpofed to droll;) "I'll give you my hand and word to
"come near your kennel no more: I was never in fuch
CC
>>
I
(C
<<
a confounded pickle fince I was born." Sirrah,"
replied the fpider, "if it were not for breaking an old
"cuſtom in our family, never to flir abroad againſt an
enemy, I ſhould come and teach you better man-
pray have patience," faid the bee, Or
"you will spend your fubitance; and, for aught I fee,
you may ftand in need of it all towards the repair of
"your houſe.'
Rogue, rogue," replied the fpider ;
yet methinks you fhould have more refpect to a per-
...
64
ners.
"}
(C
"fon,
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
151
"fon, whom all the world allows to be fo much your
"betters." "By my troth," ſaid the bee, "the com-
pariſon will amount to a very good jeft; and you will
"do me a favour, to let me know the reafons that all
"the world is pleafed to ufe in fo hopeful a difpute."
At this, the Spider, having fwelled himſelf into the fize
and poſture of a difputant, began his argument in the
true fpirit of controverfy, with refolution to be heartily
fcurrilous and angry; to urge on his own reaſons, with-
out the leaſt regard to the anſwers or objections of his op-
pofite; and fully predetermined in his mind againſt all
conviction.
"Not to diſparage myſelf," ſaid he, " by the com-
"pariſon with ſuch a raſcal, what art thou but a vaga-
"bond, without houfe or home, without ſtock or inhe-
"ritance; born to no poffeffion of your own, but a
"pair of wings and a drone-pipe? Your livelihood is
"an univerfal plunder upon nature; a freebooter over
"fields and gardens; and, for the fake of ſtealing, will
"rob a nettle as readily as a violet. Whereas I am a
"domeftic animal, furnifhed with a native ſtock within
"myſelf. This large caftle (to fhew my improvements.
"in the mathematics) is all built with my own hands,
“and the materials extracted altogether out of my own.
"perfon."
"I am glad," anſwered the bee, " to hear
you grant
at least, that I am come honeftly by my wings and
my voice for then, it ſeems, I am obliged to Hea-
ven alone for my flights and my mufic; and Provi-
"dence would never have beftowed on me two fuch
CC
**
gifts, without defigning them for the nobleft ends. I
"vifit indeed all the flowers and bloffoms of the field
" and garden: but whatever I collect from thence, en-
"riches myſelf, without the leaſt injury to their beauty,
"their fiell, or their tafte. Now, for you, and
your ſkill in architecture and other mathematics, I
"have little to fay. In that building of yours, there
r
might, for aught I know, have been labour and me-
"thod enough; but, by woful experience for us both,
"it is plain, the materials are naught; and I hope you
"will henceforth take warning, and confider duration
and matter, as well as method and art. You boaft
"indeed
152
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
41
AC
"indeed of being obliged to no other creature, but of
drawing and ſpinning out all from yourſelf; that is
to fay, if we may judge of the liquor in the veffel by
"what illues out, you poffefs a good plentiful ftore of
dirt and poifon in your breaſt. And though I would
by no means leffen or difparage your genuine ſtock of
either, yet, I doubt, you are fomewhat obliged for an
"increaſe of both to a little foreign affiftance. Your
"inherent portion of dirt does not fail of acquifitions,
by fweepings exhaled from below; and one infect
"furniſhes you with a fhare of poifon to deſtroy another.
So that, in fhort, 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, feeding and ingendering on itſelf,
turns all into excrement and venom, producing no-
thing at all, but fly-bane and a cobweb; or that,
which, by an univerfal range, with long fearch, much
fudy, true judgment, and diſtinction of things, brings
home honey and wax ?"
"6
45
44
This difpute was managed with fuch eagerneſs, cla-
mour, and warmth, that the two parties of books in arms
below flood filent a while, waiting in fufpence what
would be the iffue. Which was not long undetermin-
ed: for the bee, grown impatient at ſo much loſs of time,
fled ftraight away to a bed of rofes, without looking for
a reply; and left the ſpider, like an orator collected in
himſelf, and juft prepared to burſt out.
It happened upon this emergency, that Efop broke
filence firft. He had been of late moft barbarouſly
treated by a ſtrange effect of the regcnt's humanity, who
had torn off his title-page, forely defaced one half of his
leaves, and chained him faſt among a fhelf of Moderns ;†
where foon difcovering how high the quarrel was like
to proceed, he tried all his arts, and turned himſelf to
a thousand forms. At length, in the borrowed ſhape of
an afs, the regent miftook him for a Modern; by which
means, he had time and opportunity to escape to the
Ancients, just when the Spider and the bee were entering
into their conteft; to which he gave his attention with
a world
+ Bentley, who denied the antiquity of Æfop. See note, p. 147.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
153
world of pleasure; and when it was ended, fwore in
the loudest key, that, in all his life, he had never known
two cafes fo parallel and adapt to each other, as that in
the window, and this upon the fhelves.
"The difpu-
66
tants, faid he, "have admirably managed the dif-
pute between them, have taken in the full ftrength
"of all that is to be faid on both fides, and exhaufted
"the fubftance of every argument pro and con. It is but
to adjuſt the reaſonings of both to the prefent quarrel,
"then to compare and apply the labours and fruits of
each, as the bee has learnedly deduced them; and we
"fhall find the conclufion fall plain and cloſe upon the
"Moderns and us. For pray, Gentlemen, was ever any
<<
<<
thing fo modern as the spider, in his air, his turns,
"and his paradoxes? He argues in the behalf of yout
his brethren, and himself, with many boatings of
"his native flock, and great genius; that he fpins and
fpits wholly from himſelf, and fcorns to own any ob-
ligation or affiance from without. Then he dif
plays to you his great ſkill in architecture, and im-
provement 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 countenance to
"bear you out in boating of either.
Erect your
"fchemes with as much method and ſkill as you pleaſe;
'
<<
дам
yet if the materials be nothing but dirt, fpun out of
your own entrails, (the guts of modern brains,) the
"edifice will conclude at laſt in a cobweb; the dura-
"tion of which, like that of other ſpiders webs, may
"be imputed to their being forgotten, or neglected,
or hid in a corner. For any thing elſe of genuine
"that the Moderns may pretend to, I cannot recol-
"let; unless it be a large vein of wrangling and
“ ટી
fatire, much of a nature and ſubſtance with the fpi-
"der's poifon; which, however they pretend to pit
"wholly out of theinfelves, is improved by the fame
"arts, by feeding upon the infects and vermin of the age.
As for the Ancients, we are content, with the bee,
"to pretend to nothing of our own, beyond our wings
** and our voice; tha is to fay, our flights and our
"language.
H 5
1
་
154
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
"
66
language. For the reft, whatever we have got, has
"been by infinite labour and fearch, and ranging through
every corner of Nature. The difference is, that in-
"ſtead of dirt and poiſon, we have rather chofen to fill
our hives with honey and wax; thus furnishing man-
"kind with the two nobleft of things, which are, ſweet-
"ness and light."
cr
st
*
It is wonderful to conceive the tumult arifen among
the books, upon the clofe of this long defcant of Æſop.
Both parties took the hint, and heightened their ani-
mofities fo on a fudden, that they refolved it ſhould
come to a battle. Immediately the two main bodies
withdrew under their feveral enfigns, to the farther parts
of the library, and there entered into cabals and con-
fults upon the prefent emergency. The Moderns were
in very warm debates upon the choice of their leaders;
and nothing less than the fear impending from the ene-
mies, could have kept them from matinies upon this oc-
cafion. The difference was greatest among the horſe,
where every private trooper pretended to the chief com-
mand, from Taffo and Milton, to Dryden and Withers.
The light-horſe were commanded by Cowley and De-
fpreaux. There came the bowmen under their valiant
leaders, Des Cartes, Gaffendi, and Hobbes; whoſe
ftrength was ſuch, that they could fhoot their arrows
beyond the atmosphere, never to fall down again, but
turn, like that of Evander, into meteors, or, like the can-
non-ball, into stars. Paracelfus brought a quadron of
fink-pot-fingers from the fnowy mountains of Rhætia.
There came a vast body of dragoons of different nations,
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 moft malignant nature, and ufed white pow-
der, which infallibly killed without report. There
came feveral bodies of heavy-armed foot, all mercenaries,
under the enfigns of Guicciardine, Davila, Polydore.
Virgil,
* More commonly known by the name of Boileau. Hawkef.
Dr. Harvey, who difcovered the circulation of the blood;
a dif
covery much infifted on by the advocates for the Moderns, and ex-
cepted againſt as falfe by Sir William Temple, in his effay, p. 44 ·
45. Hurukes.
1
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS,
155
Virgil, Buchanan, Mariana, Camden, and others. The
engineers were commanded by Regiomontanus and Wil-
kins. The reſt were a confuſed multitude, led by Sco-
tus, Aquinas, and Bellarmine; of mighty bulk and ſta-
ture, but without either arms, courage, or difcipline. In
the last place, came infinite fwarms of calanes, a difor-
derly rout led by L'Eſtrange; rogues and ragga-muffi-
ans, that follow the camp for nothing but the plunder;
all without coats to cover them. ‡
*
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 Voffius, and Temple
brought up the rear.
•
All things violently tending to a decifive battle, Fame,
who much frequented, and had a large apartment for-
merly affigned her in the regal library, fled up ftrait to
Jupiter, to whom fhe delivered a faithful account of all
that paffed between the two parties below; for among
the gods fhe always tells truth. Jove, in great concern,
convokes a council in the Milky Way. The fenate af-
fembled: he declares the occafion of convening them;
a bloody battle juft impendent between two mighty
armies of Ancient and Modern creatures, called books,
wherein the celeftial intereft was but too deeply
concerned, Momus, the patron of the Moderns, inade
an excellent ſpeech in their favour; which was anſwer-
ed by Pallas, the protectreſs of the Ancients. The af-
fembly was divided in their affections; when Jupiter
coinmanded 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 filver, double gilt;
the covers of celestial turkey-leather, and the paper fuch
as
*Calones. By calling this diſorderly rout calones, the author points
both his fatire and contempt againſt all forts of mercenary foriblers
who write as they are commanded by the leaders and patrons of fe-
dition, faction, corruption, and every evil work. They are styled
calones, becauſe they are the meanest and muſt deſpicable of all wri-
ters; as the calones, whether belonging to the army or private families,
were the meaneft of all flaves or fervants whatſoever. Hawkef.
I Thele ore pamphlets, which are not bound or covered.
156
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
as here on earth might almoft pafs for vellum. Jupiter
having filently read the decree, would communicate the
import to none, but prefently fhut up the book.
Without the doors. of this affembly, there attended a
vaft number of light, nimble gods, menial fervants to
Jupiter. Thele are his miniftering inftruments in all af-
fairs below. They travel in a caravan, more or lefs to-
gether, and are faſtened to each other, like a link of gal-
ley flaves, by a light chain, which paffes from them to
Jupiter's great toe. And yet, in receiving cr delivering
a nellage, they may never approach above the lowest
itep of his throne, where he and they whifper to each
other through a long hollow trunk. Thefe deities are
called by mortal men, Accidents or Events; but the
gods call them Second Caufes. Jupiter having delivered
his meffage to a certain number of thefe divinities,
they flew immediately down to the pinnacle of the regal
library, and, confulting a few minutes, entered unfeen,
and difpofed the parties according to their orders
She
Mean while, 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 ma ignant deity, called Criticism.
dwelt on the top of a fnowy mountain in Nova Zembla.
There Momus found her extended in her den, upon the
fpoils of numberlets volumes half devoured. At her
right hand fat Ignorance, her father and hufband, blind
with age; at her left, Pride, her mother, drelling her
up in the feraps of paper herself had torn. There was
Opinion, her fifter, light of foot, hood-winked, and
head-strong; yet giddy, and perpetually turning. A-
bout her played her children, Noiſe and Impudence, Dul-
nefs and Vanity, Pofitiveness, Pedantry, and Ill-Manners.
The goddeſs herself had claws like a cat; her head,
and cars, and voice, refembled thofe of an aſs; her
teeth fallen out before; her eyes turned inward, as if
ſhe looked only upon herſelf; her diet was the over-
flowing of her own gall; her spleen was fo large, as to
ftand prominent like a dug of the first rate; nor want-
ed excrefcences in form of teats, at which a crew of ug-
ly monsters were greedily fucking; and, what is won-
cerful to conceive, the bulk of iplcen increafed falter
than
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
157
CC
cr
than the fucking could diminiſh it. Goddeſs," faid
Momus, can you fit idle here, while our devout wor-
fhippers, 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 fa-
"crifice, or build altars to our divinities? Hafte there-
"fore to the British ifle, and, if poflible, prevent their
“ deſtruction; while I make factions among the gods,
"and gain them over to our party.”
W
cr
Momus having thus delivered himſelf, ftaïd not for an
anfwer, but left the goddeſs to her own refentiment. Up
fhe roſe in a rage; and, as it is the form upon fuch oc-
cafions, began a foliloquy. "It is I" (faid fhe) "who
give wisdom to infants and idiots; by me children
grow wiſer than their parents; by me beaux become
politicians, and ſchoolboys judges of philofophy; by
"me fophifters debate, and conclude upon the depths
"of knowledge; and coffechoufe-wits, instinct by me,
can correct an author's ſtyle, and diſplay his minuteſt
errors, without underſtanding a fyllable of his matter
or his language; by me ftriplings fpend their judg-
ment, as they do their eftate, before it comes into
their hands. It is I who have depofed Wit and Know-
ledge from their empire over Poetry, and advanced
mylelf in their ſtead. And ſhall a tew upstart Anci-
ents dare oppofe me ?But coms, my aged parents,
and you my children dear, and thou my beauteous
"fifter; let us afcend my chariot, and hafte to affift our
"devout Moderns, who are now facrificing to us a
"becatomb, as I perceive by that grateful fmell, which
from thence reaches my noftrils."
เ
6.5
The goddeſs and her train, having mounted the cha-
riot, which was drawn by tams geeft, flew over infinite
regions, fhedding her influence in due places, till at
length he arrived at her beloved iſland of Britain. But,
in hovering over its metropolis, what bleſſings did ſhe not
let fall upon her feminaries of Gresham and Covent-gar-
den? 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 unfeen,
See the notes, p. 43.-
and,
158 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
and landing upon a cafe of fhelves, now defert, but once
inhabited by a colony of virtuofo's, fhe ftaid a while to
obferve 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 of Modern bowmen, the cat her eyes upon her
fon Wotton; to whom the Fates had affigned a very
fhort thread; Wotton, a young hero, whom an unknown
father of mortal race begot by ftolen embraces with this
goddess. He was the darling of his mother, above all
her children; and the refolved to go and comfort him.
But first, according to the good old cuftom of deities,
ſhe caſt about to change her fhape; for fear the divinity
of her countenance might dazzle his mortal fight, and
overcharge the rest of his fenfes. She therefore gather-
ed up her perfon into an Octavo compafs. Her body
grew white and arid, and ſplit in pieces with drinefs
the thick turned into palteboard, and the thin into paper;
upon which her parents and children artfully ftrewed a
black juice or decoction of gall and foot in form of let-
ters; her head, and voice, and ſpleen, kept their pri
mitive form; and that which before was a cover of
fkin, did ftill continue fo. In this guile fhe marched
on towards the Moderns, undiftinguishable in fhape and
drefs from the divine Bentley, Wotton's dearest friend.
"Brave Wotton," faid the goddefs, why do our
;
troops ftand idle here, to ſpend their prefent vigour,
"and opportunity of the day? Away, let us hafte to
"the generals, and adviſe to give the onfet immediate-
"ly." Having spoke thus, fhe took the ugliest of her
monſters, full glutted from her fpleen, and flung it in-
vifibly into his mouth; which flying ftraight up into
his head, fqueezed out his eye-balls, gave him a diftort-
ed look, and half overturned his brain. Then the pri-
vately ordered two of her beloved children, Dulneſs and
Ill-manners, clofely to attend his perfon in all encoun-
ters. Having thus accoutred him, the vanished in a
mift; and the hero perceived it was the goddeſs his mo-
ther.
The deſtined hour of fate being now arrived, the
fight began; whereof before I dare adventure to make
a particular defcription, I mult, after the example of
other
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 159
other authors, petition for a hundred tongues, and
mouths, and hands, and pens; which would all be too
little to perforin fo immenſe a work. Say, goddeſs, that
prefided over hiftory, who it was that first advanced in
the field of battle. Paracelfus, at the head of his
dragoons, obferving Galen in the adverfe wing, darted
his javelin with a mighty force; which the brave Ancient
received upon his fhield, the point breaking in the fecond
fold.
*
Hic pauca
defunt.
They bore the wounded Aga † on their fhields to his
chariot.
*
Defunt
nonnulla.
let fly his ar-
and went hiz-
Then Ariſtotle obferving Bacon advance with a furi-
ous mein, drew his bow to the head, and
row; which miffed the valiant Modern,
zing over his head. But Des Cartes it hit: the ſteel
point quickly 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 bow-
man round, till death, like a ftar of fuperior influence,
drew him into his own vortex.
*
Ingens biatus.
bic in MS.
when Homer appeared at the head of the cavalry,
mounted on a furious horfe, with difficulty managed by
the rider himself, but which no other mortal durft
ap-
proach. He rode among the enemy's ranks, and bore
down all before him. Say, goddefs, whom he flew firſt,
and whom he flew laft. Firſt, Gondibert | advanced
againſt
+ Dr. Harvey, See the note p. 154. It was not thought pro-
per to name his antagonist, but only to intimate that he was wound-
ed.
Other Moderns are fpared by the hiatus that follows, probably
for fimilar reafons. Hawkef,
|| An heroic poem by Sir William Davenant, in ftanzas of four
lines. Haukef
160 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
er,
+
againſt him, clad in heavy armour, and mounted on a
ftaid fober gelding, not fo famed for his fpced, as his do-
cility in kneeling, whenever his rider would mount or
alight. He had inade a vow to Pallas, that he would
never leave the field, till he had ſpoiled Hom r of his
armour, madınan, who had never once feen the wear -
nor understood his ftrength! Him Homer over-
threw, horfe and man, to the ground; there to be train-
pled and choked in the dirt Then with a long ſpear
he flew Denhamn, a ftout Modern; who from his father's
fide derived his lineage from Apollo, but his mother
was of mortal race. † He fell, and bit the earth The
celeftial part Apollo took, and made it a ftar; but the
terreſtrial lay wallowing upon the ground. Then Ho-
mer flew Wefley, || with a kick of his horfe's heel. He
took Perault by mighty force, out of his faddle; then
hurled him at Fontenelle; with the fame blow dashing
out both their brains.
On the left wing of the horfe, Virgil appeared, in
fining armour, completely fitted to his body. He was
mounted on a dapp'e-grey feed, the flowness of whole
pace was an effect of the higheſt mettle and vigour. He
caft his eye on the advcife wing, with a defire to find
an object worthy of his valour; when, behold, upon a
forrel gelding of a monflrous fize, appeared a foe, iffuing
from among the thickeft of the enemy's fquadrons: but
his ſpeed was less than his noife; for his horfe, old and
lean, fpent the dregs of his strength in a high trot;
which, though it made flow advances, yet caufed a loud
claſhing of his armour, terrible to hear. The two ca-
valiers had now approached within the threw of a lance,
when the ftranger defired a parley, and lifting up the
vizor of his helmet, a face hardly appeared from with-
in; which, after a paufe, was known for that of the re-
nowned D yden. The brave Ancient fuddenly ſtarted,
as one pofleffed with furprife and difappointment to-
gether for the helmet was nine times too large for the
head.;
Vid: Homer.
+ Sir John Denham's poems are very unequal, extremely good,
and very indifferent; fo that his detractors faid, he was not the real
author of Cooper s Hill.
Mr. Welley, who wrote the Life of Chrift in verſe, &c. Huzukef,
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS, 161
head; which appeared fituate far in the hinder part,
even like the lady in a lobſter, or like a mouſe under a
canopy of ſtate, or like a fhrivelled beau from within
the pent houſe of a modern periwig: and the voice was
fuited to the viſage, founding weak and remote. Dry-
den, in a long harangue, foothed up the good Ancient,
called him Father; and, by a large deduction of genea-
logies, made it plainly appear that they were nearly re-
lated. Then he humbly propofed an exchange of ar-
mour, as a lafting mark of hofpitality between them.
Virgil confented, (for the goddess Diffidence came unfeen,
and caft a miſt before his eyes,) though his was of gold,
and coft a hundred beeves, † the other's but of rufty
iron. However, this glittering armour became the Mo-
dern yet worſe than his own. Then they agreed to ex-
change horſes; but when it came to the trial, Dryden
was afraid, and utterly unable to mount.
*
*
Alter -bia-
tus in MS.
Lucan appeared upon
a fiery horfe, of admirable fhape, but headstrong, bear-
ing the rider where he lifted, over the field He made a
mighty flaughter among the enemy's horfe; which de-
ftruction to top, Blackmore, a famous Modern, (but one
of the mercenaries,) ftrenuously oppofed himſelf, and dart-
ed his javelin with a ftrong hand, which falling fhort of
its mark, ftruck deep in the earth. Then Lucan threw
a lance; but Æfculapius came unfeen, and turned off
the point. || "Brave Modern," faid Lucan,
I per-
"ceive fome god protects you; for never did my arm
"fo deceive me before. But what mortal can contend
"with a g d? Therefore let us fight no longer, but
CC
preſent gifts to each other." Lucan then bestowed
the Modern a pair of Spurs, and Blackmore gave Lucan a
bridle.
Pauca
defunt.
Creech:
† Vid. Homer.
His fkill as a phyfician atoned for his dulnefs as a poet. Hawkef.
162
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
:
Creech but the goddeſs Dulnefs took a cloud, formed
into the fhape of Horace, armed and mounted, and plac-
it in a flying pofture before him. Glad was the cava-
lier to begin a combat with a flying foe, and purfued the
image, threatening loud; till at laft it led him to the
peaceful bower of his father Ogleby; by whom he was
difarmed, and affigned to his repofe.
and
Then Pindar flew
and Oldham,
and ——, and Afra the Amazon, I light of foot; never
advancing in a direct line, but wheeling with incredible
agility and force, he made a terrible flaughter among the
enemy's light-horse. Him when Cowley obferved, his
generous heart burnt within him, and he advanced a-
gainst the fierce Ancient, imitating his addrefs, his pace.
and career, as well as the vigour of his horfe, and his
own ſkill, would allow. When the two cavaliers had
approached within the length of three javelins; first
Cowley threw a lance, which miffed Pindar, and paffing
into the enemy's ranks, fell ineffectual to the ground.
Then Pindar darted a javelin, fo large and weighty, that
fcarce a dozen cavaliers, as cavaliers are in our degene-
rate days, could raife it from the ground; yet he threw
it with eafe, and it went, by an unerring hand, fing-
ing through the air; nor could the Modern have avoid-
ed prefent death, if he had not luckily oppofed the
fhield that had been given him by Venus. And
now both Heroes drew their fwords. But the Modern
was fo aghait and difordered, that he knew not where
he was; his fhield dropped from his hands; thrice he
filed, and thrice he could not efcape. At last he turned,
and, lifting up his hands in the pofture of a fuppliant,
"Godlike Pindar," faid he, Spare my life, and
arms, befides the ranſom
when they hear I am
Dog," faid Pindar,
((
CC
poffefs my horfe, with thefe
"which my friends will give,
"alive, and your prifoner.'
"let your ranſom ftay with your friends: but your
"carcafe fhall be left for the fowls of the air, and the
beafts of the field." With that, he raifed his fword,
66
and,
1 Mrs. Afra Behn, author of many plays, novels, and poems,
Hawkef.
§ His poem called the Miftrefs, Hawkef.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 163
and, with a mighty ftroke, cleft the wretched Modern in
twain, the fword 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, I washed it feven
times in ambrofia; then ftruck it thrice with a fprig of
amaranth; upon which the leather grew round and ſoft,
and the leaves turned into feathers; and being gilded
before, continued gilded ftill; fo it became a dove, and
fhe harneffed it to her chariot,
*
*
*
Hiatus valde
deflendus in MS.
Day being far ſpent, and the numerous forces of the
Moderns half inclining to a retreat, there iffued forth
from a fquadron of their heavy-armed foot, a captain,
whoſe name was Bentley; the most deformed of all the
Moderns; tall, but without fhape or comeliness; large,
but without ſtrength or proportion. His armour was
patched up of a thouſand incoherent pieces; and the
found of it, as he marched, was loud and dry, like that
made by the fall of a fheet of lead, which an Etefian
wind blows fuddenly down from the roof of fome ſteeple.
His helmet was of old rufty iron; but the vizor was
braſs, which, tainted by his breath, corrupted into
copperas, nor wanted gall from the fame fountain; fo
that, whenever provoked by anger or labour, an atra-
mentous quality of moft malignant nature was ſeen to
diftil from his lips. In his right hand he graſped a flail, ||
and
I do not approve the author's judgment in this; for I think
Cowley's Pindarics are much preferable to his Miſtreſs.
It may however be confidered that Cowley's Pindarics were but
copies of which Pindar was the original. Before Pindar therefore
his Pindarics might fall; and his M.ftrefs be preferved, as properly
his own. Hawkef.
§ The epifode of Bentley and Wotton.
As the account of the battle of the books is an allegorical repre-
ſentation of Sir William Temple's effay, in which the Ancients are
oppofed to the Moderns, the account of Bentley and Wotton is cal-
led an epiſode, and their intrufion reprefented as an under action.
Hawkef.
The perfon here fpoken of, is famous for letting fly at every
body without diftinction, and ufing mean and foul fcurrilities.
164 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
and (that he might never be unprovided of an offenfice
weapon) a veffel full of ordure in his left. Thus com-
pletely armed, he advanced with a flow and heavy pace,
where the Modern chiefs were holding a confult upon the
fum of things; who, as he came onwards, laughed to
behold his crooked leg, and hump fhoulder, which his
boot and armour vainly endeavouring to hide, were for-
ced to comply with, and expofe. The generals made
ufe of him for his talent of railing; which, kept within
government, proved frequently of great fervice to their
caufe; but at other times did more mischief than good;
for at the leaft touch of offence, and often without any
at all, he would, like a wounded elephant, convert it
against his leaders. Such, at this juncture, was the dif
pofition of Bentley, grieved to fee the enemy prevail, and
diffatisfied with every body's conduct but his own. He
humbly gave the Modern generals to underſtand, that he
conceived, with great fubmiflion, they were all a pack
of rogues, and fools, and fons of whores, and d―n'd cowards,
and confounded loggerheads, and illiterate whelps, and non-
Jenfical Scoundrels; that if himself had been conftituted
general, thofe prefumptuous degs the Ancients would
long before this have been beaten out of the field.
You," faid he, "fit here idle; but when I, or any
"other valiant Modern, kill an enemy, you are fure to
८
feize the fpoil. But I will not march one foot again ft
"the foe, till you all fwear to me, that whomever I
"take or kill, his arms I fhall quietly poflefs" Bent-
ley having fpoken thus, Scaliger bettowing him a four
look. "Mifcreant prater," faid he, " eloquent only
"in thine own eyes, thou raileft without wit, or truth,
..
::
:
or difcretion. The malignity of thy temper per-
"verteth nature, thy learning makes thee more barba-
rous; thy ftudy of humanity, more inhuman thy con-
"verſe among poets, more groveling, miry, and dull.
"All arts of civilizing others render thee rude and un-
"tractable; courts have taught thee ill manners, and
polite converfation has finifhed thee a pedant. Befides,
a greater coward burdeneth not the army. But ne-
"ver defpond; I país my word, whatever fpoil, thou
"takel,
Vid. Homer de Therfite.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 155
*<
takeſt, ſhall certainly be thy own; though, I hope,
"that vile carcate will firft become a prey to kites and
<<
worms."
Bentley durft not reply; but half choaked with
fpleen and rage, withdrew in full refolution of perform-
ing ſome great atchievement. With him, for his aid and
companion, he took his beloved Wot on; refolving, by
policy or furpriſe, to attempt fome neglected quarter of
the Ancients army. They began their march over car-
cafes of their flaughtered friends; then to the right
of their own forces; then wheeled northward, till they
came to Aldrovandus's tomb; which they paffed on the
fide of the declining fun. And now they arrived with
fear towards the enemy's out-guards; looking about, if
haply they might fpy the quarters of the wounded, or
fome fraggling fleepers, unarmed, and remote from the
reft.
As when two mungrel curs, whom native greedi-
nels and domestic want provoke and join in partnerſhip,
though fearful, nightly to invade the folds of fome rich
grazier; they, with tails depreffed and lolling tongues,
creep foft and flow: mean while, the conſcious moon,
now in her zenith, on their guilty heads darts perpen-
dicular rays; nor dare they bark, though much pro-
voked at her refulgent vifage, whether feen in puddle by
reflection, or in Iphere direct; but one furveys the
region round, while t'other fcouts the plain, if hap-
ly to discover, at difance from the flock, fome car-
cafe half devoured, the refufe of gorged wolves, or
ominous ravens: fo marched this lovely, loving pair
of friends, nor with lefs fear and circumfpection;
when, at diftance, they might perceive two fhining
fuits of armour, hanging upon an oak, and the owners
not far off in a profound fleep. The two friends drew
lots, and the purſuing of this adventure fell to Bentley.
On he went, and in his van Confufion and Amaze, while
Horror and Affright brought up the rear. As he came
near, behold two heroes of the Ancients army, Phalaris
and Elop, lay faſt aſleep. Bentley would fain have dif-
patched them both; and, ftealing clofe, aimed his flail
at Phalaris's breaft. But then the goddess Affright in-
terpofing, caught the Modern in her icy arms, and
dragged him from the danger fhe forefaw; for both the
dormant
166 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
dormant heroes happen to turn at the fame inſtant,
though foundly fleeping, and bufy in a dream. For
Phalaris was just that minute dreaming, how a most vile
poetafter had lampooned him, and how he had got him
roaring in his bull. And Alop dreamed, that as he and
the Ancient chiefs were lying on the ground, a zvild aſs
broke loofe, ran about trampling and kicking, and dung-
ing in their faces. Bentley, leaving the two heroes afleep,
feized on both their armours, and withdrew in queft of
his darling Wotton.
He in the mean time had wandered long in fearch of
fome enterprife, till at length he arrived at a ſmall rivu-
let, that iffued from a fountain hard by, called, in the
language of mortal men, Helicon. Here he stopped,
and, parched with thirſt, refolved to allay it in this lim-
pid ftream. Thrice with profane hands he effayed to
raiſe the water to his lips, and thrice it flipped all
through his fingers. Then he ftooped prone on his
breaft; but ere his mouth had kifled the liquid crystal,
Apollo came, and in the channel held his field betwixt
the Modern and the fountain, ſo that he drew up nothing
but mud. For although no fountain on earth can com-
pare with the clearness of Helicon, yet there lies at bot-
tom a thick ſediment of flime and mud; for fo Apollo
begged of Jupiter, as a punishment to thofe who durft at-
tempt to taste it with unhallowed lips, and for a leffon to
all, not to draw too deep, or far from the jpring.
At the fountain-head, Wotton difcerned two heroes.
The one he could not diſtinguiſh; but the other was foon
known for Temple, general of the allies to the Ancients.
His back was turned, and he was employed in drinking
large draughts in his helmet, from the fountain, where
he had withdrawn himſelf to reft from the toils of the
war. Wotton, obferving him, with quaking knees and
trembling hands fpoke thus to himself. "Oh, that I
"could kill this deftroyer of our army! What renown
"ſhould I purchaſe among the chiefs? But to iffue out
againſt him, man against man, ſhield againſt ſhield,
"and lance againſt lance, ‡ what Modern of us dare?
"For
This is according to Homer, who tells the dreams of those who
were killed in their fleep.
Vid. Homer.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
167
66
**
And
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 fo great a god-
"defs, grant me to hit Temple with this lance, that the
"ftroke may fend him to hell, and that I may return in
fafety and triumph, laden with his fpoils." The firſt
part of this prayer the gods granted, at the interceffion
of his mother, and of Momus; but the reft, by a per-
verfe wind, fent from Fate, was fcattered in the air.
Then Wotton grafped his lance, and brandishing it
thrice over his head, darted it with all his might; the
goddeſs his mother, at the fame time, adding ftrength to
his arm. Away the lance went hizzing, and reached
even to the belt of the averted Ancient; upon which
lightly grafing, it fell to the ground. Temple neither
felt the weapon touch him, nor heard it fall.
Wotton might have eſcaped to his army, with the
honour of having emitted his lance againſt fo great a
leader, unrevenged; but Apollo, enraged, that a javelin
Alung by the alliſtance of ſo foul a goddeſs ſhould pollute
his fountain, put on the ſhape of and foftly came to
young Boyle, who then accompanied Temple: he point-
ed first to the lance, then to the diftant Modern that flung
it, and commanded the young hero to take immediate
revenge. Boyle, clad in a fuit of armour which had
been given him by all the gods, immediately advan-
ced against the trembling foe, who now fled before
him. As a young lion in the Libyan plains, or Arabian
Defart, fent by his aged fire to hunt for prey, or health,
or exercife; he fcours along, wishing to meet fome
tyger from the mountains, or a furious boar; if chance
a wild afs, with brayings importune, affronts his ear;
the generous beaft, though loathing to diftain his claws
with blood fo vile, yet much provoked at the offenſive
noife; which Echo, foolish nymph, like her ill-judg-
ing Jex, repeats much louder, and with more delight
than Philomela's fong; he vindicates the honour of the
forest,
Boyle was affifted in this difpute by Dean Aldrich, Dr. Atter-
bury, afterwards Biſhop of Rocheſter and other perfons at Oxford,
celebrated for their genius and their learning, then called the Cbriß-
Church wits. Hawkef.
168
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
foreſt, and hunts the noify long-ear'd animal: fo Wot-
ton fled, fo Boyle purfued. But Wotton, heavy-arm-
ed, and flow of foot, began to flack his course; when
his lover Bentley appeared, returning laden with the
fpoils of the two fleeping Ancients. Boyle obferved him
well; and foon difcovering the helmet and ſhield of Pha-
laris, his friend, both which he had lately, with his own
hands, new poliſhed and gilt; rage fparkled in hi
eyes; and leaving his purfuit after Wotton, he furi-
oufly ruthed on against this new approacher. Fain
would he be revenged on both; but both now fled dif-
ferent ways.
And as a woman in a little houſe, that gets
a painful livelihood by ipinning; if chance her geefe
be ſcattered o'er the common, fhe courfes round the
plain from fide to fide, compelling here and there the
itragglers to the flock; they cackle loud, and flutter o'er
the champain to Boyle purfued, fo fled this pair of
friends. Finding at length th ir flight was vain, they
bravely joined, and drew themfelves in phalanx. First,
Bentley threw a fpear with all his force, hoping to
pierce the enemy's breast. But Pallas came unleen,
and in the air took off the point, and clapped on one
of lead; which, after a dead bang against the enemy's
fhield, fell blunted to the ground. Then Boyle, ob-
ferving well his time, took up a lance of wondrous length
and fharpness; and as this pair of friends compacted
ſtood cloſe fide to fide, he wheeled him to the right,
and, with unuſual force, darted the weapon.
ley faw his fate approach; and flaning down his arins
clofe to his ribs, hoping to fave his body; in went
the point, pailing through arm and fide: nor topt,
or ſpent its force, ull it had alio pierced the valiant
Wotion; who going to fuftain his dying friend, flared
his fate. As when a fkilful cook has truffed a bracc
of woodcocks, he, with iron fkewer pierces the ten-
der fides of both, their legs and wings clote pinioned
to their ribs fo was this pair of friends transfixed, till
down they fell, joined in their lives, joined in their
Bent-
deaths;
This is alfo after the manner of Homer; the woman's getting
a painful livelihood by fpinning, has nothing to do with the fimili-
tude, nor would be excufable without fuch an authority.
Vid. Homer.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 169
deaths; fo cloſely joined, that Charon would miſtake
them both for one, and waft them over Styx for half
his fare. Farewel, beloved, loving pair; few equals
have you left behind: and happy and immortal ſhall
you be, if all my wit and eloquence can make you,
And, now
*
*
1
*
7
Defunt cætera.
VOL. I.
I
A Dis.
[ 170 ]
A DISCOURSE concerning the MECHANICAL
OPERATION of the SPIRIT.
In a LETTER to a FRIEND.
A FRAGMENT.
TH
The BOOKSELLER'S ADVERTISEMENT.
HE following difcourfe came into my hands per-
fect and entire. But there being feveral things in
it which the prefent age would not very well bear, I
kept it by me fome years, refolving it fhould never fee
the light. At length, by the advice and affiſtance of a
judicious friend, I retrenched thoſe parts that might give
moſt offence, and have now ventured to publiſh the re-
mainder. Concerning the author, I am wholly igno-
rant neither can I conjecture, whether it be the fame
with that of the two foregoing pieces; the original hav-
ing been fent me at a different time, and in a different
hand. The learned reader will better determine; to
whoſe judgment I entirely ſubmit it.
A DIS-
[ 17 ]
A DISCOURSE concerning the MECHANICAL OPERA-
TION of the SPIRIT. t
For T. H. Efq; || at his chambers in the academy of the
Beaux-Efprits in New England.
SIR,
IT
T is now a good while fince I have had in my head
fomething, not only very material, but abfolutely
neceffary to my health, that the world ſhould be in-
formed in. For, to tell you a fecret, I am able to con-
tain it no longer. However, I have been perplexed for
fome time, to refolve what would be the moſt proper
form to fend it abroad in, To which end, I have been
three days courfing through Westminster-hall, and St.
Paul's church-yard, and Fleet-ſtreet, to perufe titles;
and I do not find any which holds fo general a vogue,
as that of A letter to a friend. Nothing is more common
than to meet with long epiftles addreffed to perfcus and
places, where, at firſt thinking, one would be apt to i-
magine it not altogether fo neceffary or convenient;
fuch as, a neighbour at next door, a mortal enemy, a per-
I 2
fect
+ This difcourfe is not altogether equal to the former, the beſt
parts of it being omitted. Whether the bookfeller's account be
true, that he durft not print the reft, I know not: nor indeed is it
eafy to determine, whether he may be relied on in any thing he faye
of this, or the former treatifes,only as to the time they were writ in:
which, however, appears more from the difcourfes themfelves, then
his relation.
This difcourfe is a fatire againſt enthufiafm, and thofe affected in-
fpirations, which conftantly begin in folly, and very often end 11
vice. In this treatife, the author has revelled in too licentious a vin
of farcafm: many of his ideas are nauteous, fome are indecent, and
others have an irreligious tendency. Nor is the picce itfelf equal in
wit and humour, either to The Tale of a Tub, or The Battle of the
Books. I fhould conftantly chufe rather to praife, than to arraign -
ny part of Swift's writings: but in thoſe tracts where he tries to
make us unealy with ourſelves, and unhappy in our prefent exift-
ence, there I muſt yield him up entirely to confure. Otrary.
|| Suppoſed to be Col. Hunter.
172
ON THE MECHANICAL
fect firanger, or a perfon of quality in the clouds; and thefa
upon fubjects, in appearance, the leaſt proper for con-
veyance by the poft; as, long Schemes in philofophy, dark
and wonderful myfteries of ftate, laborious differtations in cri-
ticifm aud philofophy, advice to parliaments, and the like.
Now, Sir, to proceed after the method in prefent
wear (for, let me fay what I will to the contrary, I am
afraid you will publiſh this letter, as foon as ever it comes
to your hand :) I defire you will be my witnefs to the
world, how careleſs and fudden a fcribble it has been;
that it was but yesterday, when you and I began acciden-
tally to fall into difcourfe on this matter; that I was not
very well when we parted; that the poft is in ſuch haſte,
I have had no manner of time to digeft it into order, or
correct the ftyle; and if any other modern excuſes, for
hafte and negligence, fhall occur to you in reading, I beg
you to infert them, faithfully promifing they fhall be
thankfully acknowledged.
Pray, Sir, in your next letter to the Iroquois virtuofi,
do me the favour to prefent my humble fervice to that
illuftrious body; and affure them, I fhall fend an ac-
count of thofe phænomena, as ſoon as we can determine
them at Greſham.
I have not had a line from the literati of Tobinambou
theſe three laft ordinaries.
And now, Sir, having diſpatched what I had to fay of
forms, or of buſineſs, let me intreat, you will fuffer me
to proceed upon my fubject; and to pardon me, if I
make no further ufe of the epiftolary ftyle, till I come to
conclude.
SECT. I.
T is recorded of Mahomet, that, upon a vifit he was
ITS
going to pay in Paradife, he had an offer of feveral
vehicles to conduct him upwards; as ficry chariots,
winged horfes, and celeftial fedans: but he refufed them
all, and would be borne to heaven upon nothing but
his afs. Now, this inclination of Mahomet, as fingu-
lar as it fccms, hath been fince taken up by a great
number of devout Chriftians; and doubtlefs with very
good
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
173
good reaſon. For fince that Arabian is known to have
borrowed a moiety of his religious fyftem. from the Chri-
ftian faith, it is but juſt he ſhould pay repriſals to ſuch as
would challenge them; wherein the good people of
England, to do them all right, have not been backward.
For though there is not any other nation in the world fo
plentifully provided with carriages for that journey, either
as to fafety or eafe; yet there are abundance of us, who
will not be fatisfied with any other machine, befides this
of Mahomet,
For my own part, I must confefs to bear a very fingu -
lar reſpect to this animal, by whom I take human na-
ture to be most admirably held forth in all its qualities
as well as operations: and therefore, whatever in my
ſmall reading occurs concerning this our fellow-creature,
I do never fail to fet it down by way of common-place;
and when I have occafion to write upon human reaſon,
politics, eloquence, or knowledge, I lay my memoran-
dums before me, and infert them with a wonderful faci-
lity of application. However, among all the qualificati-
ons afcribed to this diſtinguiſhed brute, by ancient or
modern authors, I cannot remember this talent, of bear-
ing his rider to heaven, has been recorded for a part of
his character, except in the two examples mentioned al-
ready; therefore I conceive the methods of this art to be
a point of useful knowledge in very few hands, and
which the learned world would gladly be better informed
in this is what I have undertaken to perform in the
following difcourfe. For towards the operation already
mentioned, many peculiar properties are required, both
in the rider and the afs; which I ſhall endeavour to ſet
in as clear a light as I can.
:
But, becauſe I am refolved, by all means, to avoid
giving offence to any party whatever, I will leave off
difcourfing fo clofely to the letter as I have hitherto done,
and go on for the future by way of allegory, though in
fuch a manner, that the judicious reader may, without
much training, make his applications, as often as he
fhall think fit. Therefore, if you pleaſe, from hence
forward instead of the term afs, we fhall make ufe
of gifted, or enlightened teacher; and the word rider,
we will exchange for that of fanatic auditory, or any
other
174
ON THE MECHANICAL
ther denomination of the like import. Having fettled
this weighty point, the great fubject of inquiry before.
us is, to examine, by what methods this teacher arrives
at his gifts, or fpirit, or light; and by what intercourfe
between him and his affembly it is cultivated and ſup-
ported.
In all my writings I have had conftant regard to this
great end, not to fuit and apply thein to particular oc-
cafions and circumſtances of time, of place, or of per-
fon; but to calculate them for univerfal nature, and man-
kind in general. And of fuch catholic uſe I eſteem this
prefent difquifition: for I do not remember any other
temper of body, or quality of mind, wherein all nations
and ages of the world have fo unanimously agreed, as
that of a fanatic ftrain, or tincture of enthuſiaſm; which,
improved by certain perfons or focieties of men, and
by them practiſed upon the reft, has been able to pro-
duce revolutions of the greateſt figure in hiſtory; as
will foon appear to thofe who know any thing of Ara-
bia, Perfia, India, or China, of Morocco and Peru.
Farther, it has poffeffed as great a power in the kingdom
of knowledge, where it is hard to affign one art or ſcience,
which has not annexed to it fome fanatic branch: ſuch
are the philofopher's ftone, the grand elixir, † the planetary
worlds, the fquaring of the circle, the fummum bonum,
Utopian commonwealths, with fome others of lefs or fub-
ordinate note; which all ferve for nothing elſe, but to
employ or amufe this grain of enthuſiaſm, dealt into every
compofition.
But if this plant has found a root in the fields of Em-
pire and of Knowledge, it has fixed deeper, and ſpread
yet farther upon holy ground: wherein, though it hath
paffed under the general name of enthufiafm, and perhaps
arifen from the fame original; yet ha h it produced cer-
tain branches of a very different nature, however often
miſtaken for each other. The word, in in its univerfal
acceptation, may be defined, A lifting up of the foul, or
its faculties, above matter. This defcription will hold
good in general: but I am only to underſtand it as ap-
plied to religion; wherein there are three general ways
Some writers hold them for the fame, others not.
of
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
175
of ejaculating the foul, or tranfporting it beyond the
ſphere of matter. The first is, the immediate act of
God, and is called prophecy or infpiration. The fecond
is, the immediate act of the devil, and is termed poſſeſ
fon. The third is, the product of natural caufes, the ef-
fect of ftrong imagination, fpleen, violent anger, fear,
grief, pain, and the like. Theſe three have been abun-
dantly treated on by authors, and therefore ſhall not
employ my inquiry. But the fourth method of religious
enthufiajm, or launching out of the foul, as it is purely
an effect of artifice and mechanic operation, has been
fparingly handled, or not at all, by any writer; becauſe,
though it is an art of great antiquity, yet, having been
confined to few perfons, it long wanted thofe advance-
ments and refinements which it afterwards met with,
fince it has grown fo epidemic, and fallen into fo many
cultivating hands.
It is therefore upon this mechanical operation of the
Spirit that I mean to treat, as it is at preient performed
by our British workmen. I ſhall deliver to the reader
the refult of many judicious obſervations upon the mat-
ter; tracing, as near as I can, the whole courſe and
method of this trade; producing parallel inftances, and
relating certain difcoveries that have luckily fallen in my
way.
I have faid, that there is one branch of religious enthu-
fiafm, which is purely an effect of nature; whereas the
part I mean to handle, is wholly an affect of art, which,
however, is inclined to work upon certain natures and
conftitutions, more than others. Befides, there is
many an operation, which, in its original, was purely
an artifice; but, through a long fucceffion of ages, hath
grown to be natural. Hippocrates tells us, that a-
mong our anceſtors the Scythians, there was a nation
called Longheads, § which at firſt began by a cuſtom a-
mong midwives and nurfes, of moulding, and fqueezing,
and bracing up the heads of infants; by which means,
nature, fhut out at one paffage, was forced to ſeek a-
nother, and, finding room above, fhot upwards in the
form of a fugar-loaf; and being diverted that way, for
§ Macrocephali.
fome
196
ON THE MECHANICAL
||
fome generations, at laſt found it out of herſelf, need-
ing no affiſtance from the nurfe's hand. This was the
original of the Scythian Longheads; and thus did cuſtom,
from being a fecond nature, proceed to be a firft. To
all which there is fomething very analogous among us of
this nation, who are the undoubted pofterity of that re-
fined people. For, in the age of our fathers, there
aroſe a generation of men in this iſland, called Round-
beads, whofe race is now ſpread over three kingdoms;
yet, in its beginning, was merely an operation of art,
produced by a pair of fciffars, a fqueeze of the face, and
à black cap.
Theſe heads, thus formed into a perfect
ſphere in all aſſemblies, were moft expoſed to the view
of the female fort; which did influence their concepti-
ons fo effectually, that nature at laſt took the hint, and
did it of herfelf; fo that a Round-head has been ever fince
as familiar a fight among us, as a Long-head among the
Scythians.
Upon thefe examples, and others eaſy to produce, I
defire the curious reader to diſtinguiſh, firſt, between an
effect grown from art into nature, and one that is natural
from its beginning; fecondly, between an effect whol-
ly natural, and one which has only a natural foundation,
but where the fuperftructure is entirely artificial. For
the firſt and the laſt of theſe, I underſtand to come with-
in the districts of my ſubject. And having obtained
thefe allowances, they will ferve to remove any objection
be raiſed hereafter againſt what I fhall advance.
The practitioners of this famous art proceed in genc-
ral upon the following fundamental, That the corrup-
tion of the fenfes is the generation of the fpirit; becauſe the
fenfes in men are fo many avenues to the fort of reaſon,
which in this operation is wholly blocked up. All
endeavours must be therefore ufed, either to divert,
bind up, ftupify, flufter, and amuſe the fenfes, or elſe
that may
το
The Fanatics, in the time of Charles I. ignorantly applying the
text, Ye knew that it is a fhame for men to bave long hair, cut theirs
very fhort. It is faid, that the Queen, once feeing Pym, a celebrat-
ed patriot, thus cropped, inquired who that round headed man was j
and that from this incident the distinction became general, and the
party were called Round-beads. Hawkef.
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
177
to juſtle them out of their ſtations; and while they are
either abfent, or otherwiſe employed, or engaged in a
civil war againſt each other, the ſpirit enters, and per-
forms its part.
Now, the ufual methods of managing the fenfes up-
on fuch conjunctures, are what I fhall be very particu-
lar in delivering, as far as it is lawful for me to do; but
having had the honour to be initiated into the myſteries
of every fociety, I defire to be excufed from divulging
any rites, wherein the profane muſt have no part.
But here, before I can proceed farther, a very
dan-
gerous objection muft, if poffible, be removed. For t
is pofitively denied by certain critics, that the Spirit can
by any means be introduced into an affembly of modern
faints; the difparity being fo great, in many material
circumstances, between the primitive way of infpiration,
and that which is practifed in the prefent age.
This
they pretend to prove from the 2d chapter of the Acts,
where, comparing both, it appears, first, that the apoftles
were gathered together with one accord in one place; by
which is meant an univerfal agreement in opinion and
form of worſhip; a harmony, fay they, fo far from
being found between any two conventicles among us,
that it is in vain to expect it between any two heads in
the fame. Secondly, The Spirit inftructed the apoſtles
in the gift of ſpeaking feveral languages; a knowledge
fo remote from our dealers in this art, that they neither
underſtand propriety of words, or phrafes, in their
own. Laſtly, ſay theſe objectors, The modern artiſts
do utterly exclude all approaches of the Spirit, and bar
up its ancient way of entering, by covering themſelves
io clofe, and fo induftrioufly a-top. For they will needs.
have it as a point clearly gained, that the cleven tongues
never fat upon the apoftles heads, while their hats were.
on.
Now, the force of thefe objections feems to conſiſt
in the different acceptation of the word fpirit; which
if it be understood for a fupernatural affillance, ap-
proaching from without, the objectors have reafon, and
their affertions may be allowed: but the pirit we treat
of here, proceeding entirely from within, the argu-
1.5
ment.
178
ON THE MECHANICAL.
And, upon
ment of theſe adverfaries wholly is eluded.
the fame account, our modern artificers find it an expe-
dient of abfolute neceffity to cover their heads as clofe
as they can, in order to prevent perſpiration; than
which nothing is obferved to be a greater fpender of
mechanic light, as we may perhaps farther fhew in con-
venient place.
To proceed therefore upon the phænomenon of spiritual
mechaniſm, it is here to be noted, that in forming and
working up the Spirit, the affembly has a confiderable
fhare, as well as the preacher. The method of this ar-
canum is as follows. They violently ftrain their eye-balls
inward, half clofing the lids; then, as they fit, they are
in a perpetual motion of fee-faw, making long hums at
proper periods, and continuing the found at equal
height; chufing their time in thofe intermiffions, while
the preacher is at ebb. Neither is this practice in any
part of it fo fingular and improbable, as not to be traced,
in diftant regions, from reading and obfervation. For,
firft, the Jauguis, || or enlightened faints of India, fee all
their vifions by help of an acquired ftraining and pref-
fure of the eyes. Secondly, the art of fee-faw on a
beam, and fwinging by feffion upon a cord, in order to
raiſe artificial ecftafies, hath been derived to us from
our Scythian anceſtors, where it is practifed at this
day among the women. Laftly, the whole proceed-
ing, as I have here related it, is performed by the na-
tives of Ireland, with a confiderable improvement; and
it is granted, that this noble nation hath of all others
admitted fewer corruptions, and degenerated leaft
from the purity of the old Tartars. Now, it is uſual
for a knot of Iriſh, men and women, to abſtract them-
felves from matter, bind up all their fenfes, grow viſio-
nary and ſpiritual, by influence of a fhort pipe of to-
bacco handed round the company; each preferving the
fmoke in his mouth, till it comes again to his turn to
take in freſh. At the fame time there is a concert of a con-
tinued gentle hum, repeated and renewed by inſtinct,
as occafion requires; and they move their bodies
Bernier, mem. de Mogol,
Į Guagnini hift. Sarmat,
up
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
179
up and down to a degree, that ſometimes their heads
and points lie parallel to the horizon. Mean while, you
may obferve their eyes turned up in the pofture of one
who endeavours to keep himſelf awake; by which, and
many other ſymptoms among them, it manifeftly ap-
pears, that the reaſoning facultics are all fufpended and
fuperfeded; that imagination hath ufurped the feat, ſcat-
tering a thouſand deliriums over the brain. Returning
from this digreffion, I fhall defcribe the methods by
which the Spirit approaches. The eyes being difpofed
according to art, at firt you can fee nothing; but, after
a fhort paule, a imall glimmering light begins to appear,
and dance before you. Then, by frequently moving
your body up and down, you perceive the vapours to
afcend very faft, till you are perfectly dofed, and flufter -
ed like one who drinks too much in a morning. Mean
while, the preacher is alio at work; he begins a loud
hum, which pierces you quite through: this is imme-
diately returned by the audience; and you find your-
felf prompted to imitate them, by a mere fpontaneous
impulfe, without knowing what you do. The interftitia
are duly filled up by the preacher, to prevent too long a
paufe, under which the spirit would foon faint and grow
languid.
'This is all I am allowed to diſcover about the pro-
grels of the pirit, with relation to that part which is
borne by the affembly; but in the methods of the preach-
er, to which I now proceed, I fhall be more large and
particular.
Yo
SECT
II.
OU will read it very gravely remarked in the books
of thoſe illuftrious and right eloquent penmen, the
modern travellers, that the fundamental difference in
point of religion between the wild Indians and us, lies
in this; that we worship God, and they worthip the de-
vil. But there are certain critics, who will by no
means admit of this diftinction; rather believing, that
all nations whatſoever adore the true God, becauſe they
fe:m to intend their devotions to fome inviſible power,
180
ON THE MECHANICAL
of greatest goodness, and ability to help them; which
perhaps will take in the brighteſt attributes aſcribed to
the Divinity. Others again inform us, that thoſe ido-
laters adore two principles; the principle of good, and that
of evil: which indeed I am apt to look upon as the moſt
univerfal notion that mankind, by the mere light of
nature, ever entertained of things invifible. How this
idea hath been managed by the Indians and us, and
with what advantage to the underſtandings of either, may
well deſerve to be examined. To me the difference ap-
pears little more than this, that they are put oftener up-
on their knees by their fears, and we by our defires ;
that the former fet them a praying, and us a curfing.
What I applaud them for, is their difcretion in limiting
their devotions and their deities to their feveral diftricts;
nor ever fuffering the liturgy of the white god, to croſs
or to interfere with that of the black. Not fo with us;
who, pretending, by the lines and meafures of our rea-
fon, to extend the dominion of one invifible power, and
contract that of the other, have difcovered a grofs igno-
rance in the natures of good and evil, and moft horribly
confounded the frontiers of both. After men have lifted
up the throne of their Divinity to the cælum empyræum,
adorned with all fuch qualities and accomplishments as
themſelves feem moft to value and poffefs; after they
have funk their principle of evil to the lowest centre,
bound him with chains, loaded him with curfes, furniſh-
ed him with viler difpofitions than any rake-bell of the
town, accoutred him with tail, and horns, and huge
claws, and faucer eyes; I laugh aloud to ſee theſe rea-
foners at the fame time engaged in wife difpute about
certain walks and purlieus, whether they are in the verge
of God or the devil; feriously debating, whether fuch
and ſuch influences come into men's minds from above or
below, whether certain paffions and affections are guided.
by the evil spirit or the good:
Dum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinum
Difcernunt avidi-
Thus do men eſtabliſh a fellowſhip of Christ with Belial,
and fuch is the analogy they make between cloven
tongues and cloven feet. Of the like nature is the difqui-
fition
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
181
fition before us. It hath continued theſe hundred years
an even debate, whether the deportment and the cant
of our English enthuaftic preachers were poffeffion or in-
Spiration; and a world of argument has been drained on
either fide, perhaps to little purpoſe. For I think it is
in life as in tragedy, where it is held a conviction of great
defect, both in order and invention, to interpofe the
affiftance of preternatural power, without an abfolute
and laft neceffity. However, it is a fketch of human
vanity, for every individual to imagine the whole uni-
verfe is intereſted in his meanest concern. If he hath
got cleanly over a kennel, fome angel unfeen defcended
on purpoſe to help him by the hand; if he hath knock-
ed his head against a poft, it was the devil, for his fins,
let loose from hell on purpoſe to buffet him. Who,
that fees a little paultry mortal droning, and dreaming,
and drivelling to a multitude, can think it agreeable to
common good fenfe, that either heaven or hell ſhould be
put to the trouble of influence or infpection upon what
he is about? Therefore I am refolved immediately to
weed this error out of mankind, by making it clear, that
this mystery of vending ſpiritual gifts is nothing but a
trade, acquired by as much inftruction, and maſtered by
equal practice and application, as others are. This will
beft appear by defcribing and deducing the whole pro-
cefs of the operation, as variouſly as it hath fallen under
my knowledge or experience.
*
Here the whole fcheme of
Spiritual mechanifm was de-
duced and explained, with
an appearance of great read-
ing and obfervation; but it
was thought neither fafe nor
convenient to print it.
Here it may not be amifs to add a few words upon
the laudable practice of wearing quilted caps; which is
not a matter of mere cuftom, humour, or faſhion, as
fome would pretend, but an inftitution of great fagaci-
ty
182
ON THE MECHANICAL
ty and uſe. Thefe, when moistened with fweat, ftop all
perfpiration; and, by reverberating the heat, prevent
the ſpirit from evaporating any way but at the mouth;
even as a ſkilful houſewife, that covers her ſtill with a
wet clout for the fame reaſon, and finds the fame effect.
For it is the opinion of choice virtuofi, that the brain is
only a croud of little animals, but with teeth and claws
extremely ſharp, and therefore cling together in the con-
texture we behold, like the picture of Hobbes's Leviathan,
or like bees in perpendicular fwarm upon a tree, or like
a carrion corrupted into vermin, ftill preferving the
fhape and figure of the mother animal: That all in-
vention is formed by the morfure of two or more of theſe
animals, upon certain capillary nerves, which proceed
from thence; whereof three branches fpread into the
tongue, and two into the right hand. They hold alſo,
that theſe animals are of a conftitution extremely cold;
that their food is the air we attract, their excrement
phlegm; and that what we vulgarly call rheums, and
colds, and diftillations, is nothing else but an epidemical
loofenefs, to which that little commonwealth is very.
ſubject, from the climate it lies under: Farther, that no-
thing less than a violent heat can difintangle theſe crea-
tures from their hamated ftation of life, or give them.
vigour and humour to imprint the marks of their little
teeth That if the morfure be hexagonal, it produces
poetry; the circular gives eloquence; if the bite hath
been conical, the perfon, whofe nerve is ſo affected, ſhall
be difpoſed to write upon politics; and fo of the reft.
I fhall now difcourfe briefly, by what kind of practices
the voice is beſt governed, towards the compofition and
improvement of the jpirit; for without a competent
fkill in tuning and toning each word, and fyllable, and
letter, to their due cadence, the whole operation is in-
complete, miffes entirely of its effect on the hearers, and
puts the workman himself to continual pains for new
fupplies without fuccefs. For it is to be underſtood,
that, in the language of the fpirit, cant and droning fup-
ply the place of ſenſe and reaſon, in the language of men ;
becauſe, in fpiritual harangues, the difpofition of the
words according to the art of grammar, hath not the
leaf
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
183
1
leaſt uſe, but the fkill and influence wholly lie in the
choice and cadence of the fyllables; even as a diſcreet
compoſer, who, in fetting a fong, changes the words and
order fo often, that he is forced to make it nonſenſe, be-
fore he can make it mufic. For this reafon it hath been
held by fome, that the art of canting is ever in greateſt
perfection, when managed by ignorance; which is
thought to be enigmatically meant by Plutarch, when
he tell us, that the beft mufical inftruments were made
from the bones of an ass. And the profounder critics
upon that paffage are of opinion, the word, in its genuine
fignification, means no other than a jaw-bone; though
fome rather think to have been the os facrum. But in
fo nice a cafe I fhall not take upon me to decide; the
curious are at liberty to pick from it whatever they
pleafe.
The first ingredient towards the art of canting, is a
competent ſhare of inward light; that is to fay, a large
memory, plentifully fraught with theological polyfyl-
lables, and myfterious texts from holy writ, applied and
digeſted by thofe methods and mechanical operations al-
ready related; the bearers of this light refembling lan-
terns, compact of leaves from old Geneva Bibles: which
invention, Sir Humphrey Edwin, during his mayoralty,
of happy memory, highly approved and advanced;
affirming the fcripture to be now fulfilled, where it fays,
Thy word is a lantern to my feet, and a light to my paths.
Now, the art of canting confists in fkilfully adapting
the voice to whatever words the ſpirit delivers, that each
may ſtike the ears of the audience with its moft fignifi-
cant cadence. The force or energy of this eloquence is
not to be found, as among ancient orators, in the dif
pofition of words to a fentence, or the turning of long
periods; but, agreeable to the modern refinements in
mufic, is taken up wholly in dwelling and dilating upon
· fyllables and letters. Thus, it is frequent for a ſingle
vowel to draw fighs from a multitude; and for a whole
affembly of faints, to fob to the mufic of one folitary li-
quid. But thefe are trifles, when even founds inarticu-
late are obſerved to produce as forcible effects. A ma-
ſter-workman ſhall blow bis pofe so powerfully, as to
pierce
184
ON THE MECHANICAL
pierce the hearts of his people, who are difpofed to re-
ceive the excrements of his brain, with the fame reverence
as the iſſue of it. Hawking, ſpitting, and belching, the
defects of other inen's rhetoric, are the flowers, and fi-
gures, and ornaments of his. For, the Spirit being the
fame in all, it is of no import through what vehicle it is
conveyed.
It is a point of too much difficulty, to draw the prin-
ciples of this famous art within the compafs of certain
adequate rules. However, perhaps I may one day oblige
the world with my critical effay upon the art of canting,
philofophically, phyfically, and mufically confidered.
But, among all improvements of the spirit wherein
the voice hath borne a part, there is none to be compa-
red with that of conveying the found through the nose,
which, under the denomination of fnuffling,* hath paffed
with fo great applaufe in the world. The originals of
this inftitution are very dark; but having been initiated
into the mystery of it, and leave being given me to pub-
lifh it to the world, I fhall deliver as direct a relation as
I can.
This art, like many other famous inventions, owed
its birth, or at leaſt improvement and perfection, to an
effect of chance; but was eſtabliſhed upon folid reafons,
and hath flouriſhed in this ifland ever fince, with great
luftre. All agree, that it first appeared upon the decay
and diſcouragement of bagpipes; which, having long fuf-
fered under the mortal hatred of the brethren, tottered for
a time, and at laſt fell with monarchy. The story is thus
related.
As yet fnufling was not; when the following adven-
ture happened to a Banbury faint. Upon a certain day,
while he was far engaged among the tabernacles of the
wicked, he felt the outward man put into odd commo-
tions, and ſtrangely pricked forward by the inward:
An effect very ufual among the modern infpired. For
ſome think, that the spirit is apt to feed on the flesh, like
hungry wines upon raw beef. Others rather believe,
there is a perpetual game at leap-frog between both ;
and
* The Snuffling of men, who have loft their nofes by lewd courſes,
is faid to have given rife to that tone, which our Diffenters did two
much affect. W. Wotton
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
185
:
In
and fometimes the flesh is uppermoft, and fometimes the
Spirit: adding, that the former, while it is in the ſtate
of a rider, wears huge Rippon fpurs, and, when it comes
to the turn of being bearer, is wonderfully headstrong
and hard-mouthed. However it came about, the faint
felt his veſſel full extended in every part, (a very natu-
ral effect of ſtrong infpiration ;) and the place and time
falling out fo unluckily, that he could not have the con-
venience of evacuating upwards, by repetition, prayer,
or lecture, he was forced to open an inferior vent.
ſhort, he wreſtled with the flesh fo long, that he at length
fubdued it, coming off with honourable wounds all be-'
fore. The furgeon had now cured the parts primarily
affected; but the difeafe, driven from its poft, flew up
into his head and as a ſkilful general, valiantly attack-
ed in his trenches, and beaten from the field, by flying
marches withdraws to the capital city, breaking down
the bridges to prevent purfuit; fo the diſeaſe, repelled
from its firft ftation, fled before the rod of Hermes, to
the upper region, there fortifying itself; but, finding
the foe making attacks at the nose, broke down the
bridge, and retired to the head-quarters. Now, the na-
turalifls obferve, that there is in human nofes an idiofyn-
cracy, by virtue of which, the more the paffage is ob-
ſtructed, the more our ſpeech delights to go through, as
the muſic of a flagellet is made by the flops.
By this
method, the twang of the nofe becomes perfectly to re-
femble the Jnuffle of a bagpipe, and is found to be
qually attractive of British ears; whereof the faint
had fudden experience, by practifing his new faculty
with wonderful fuccefs in the operation of the Spirit:
for, in a fhort time, no doctrine paffed for found and or-
thodox, unleſs it were delivered through the nofe.
Straight, every paftor copied after this original; and
thoſe who could not otherwife arrive to a perfection,
fpirited by a noble zeal, made ufe of the fame experi-
ment to acquire it. So that, I think, it may be truly af-
firmed, the jaints owe their empire to the fnuffling of one
animal, as Darius did his to the neighing of another;
and both ſtratagems were performed by the fame art;
for
Herodot.
186
ON THE MECHANICAL
for we read, how the Perfian beaft acquired his faculty
by covering a mare the day before.
I ſhould now have done, if I were not convinced, that
whatever I have yet advanced upon this fubject, is liable
to great exception. For, allowing all I have faid to be
true, it may ſtill be justly objected, That there is, in the
commonwealth of artificial enthuſiaſm, ſome real founda-
tion for art to work upon in the temper and complexion
of individuals, which other mortals feem to want. Ob-
ferve but the gefture, the motion, and the countenance
of fome choice profeffors, though in their moſt familiar
*actions, you will find them of a different race from the
reft of human creatures. Remark your commoneft pre-
tender to a light within, how dark, and dirty, and gloomy
he is without: as lanterns, which the more light they
bear in their bodies, caft out fo much the more foot, and
finoke, and fuliginous matter to adhere to the fides.
Liften but to their ordinary talk, and look on the mouth
that delivers it: you will imagine you are hearing ſome
ancient oracle, and your underſtanding will be equally
informed. Upon thefe, and the like reafons, certain ob-
jectors pretend to put it beyond all doubt, that there
must be a fort of preternatural Spirit poffeffing the heads.
of the modern faints; and fome will have it to be the
beat of zeal, working upon the dregs of ignorance, as
other Spirits are produced from lees by the force of fire.
Some again think, that when our earthly tabernacles are
diſordered and defolate, fhaken and out of repair, the
fpirit delights to dwell within them; as houfes are faid
to be haunted, when they are forfaken and gone to de-
cay.
To fet this matter in as fair a light as poffible, I fhall
here very briefly deduce the hiftory of Fanaticifm from
the moft early ages to the prefent. And if we are able
to fix upon any one material or fundamental point,
wherein the chief profeffors have univerfally agreed, I
think we may reaſonably lay hold on that, and affign it
for the great feed or principle of the Spirit.
The most early traces we meet with of Fanatics in
ancient ftory, are among the Ægyptians, who inftituted
thoſe rites known in Greece by the names of Orgia,
Panegyres, and Dionyfia; whether introduced there by
Orpheus
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
187
Orpheus or Melampus, we fhall not diſpute at prefent,
nor, in all likelihood, at any time for the future. The
feaſts were celebrated to the honour of Ofiris, whom
the Grecians called Dionyfius, and is the fame with Bac-
chus. Which has betrayed fome fuperficial readers to
imagine, that the whole bufinefs was nothing more than
a fet of roaring, fcouring companions, over-charged.
with wine. But this is a fcandalous mistake, foifted on
the world by a fort of modern authors, who have too
literal an underſtanding; and, becauſe antiquity is to
be traced backwards, do therefore, like Jews, begin their
books at the wrong end, as if learning were a fort of
conjuring. Theſe are the men who pretend to under-
ſtand a book by fcouting through the index; as if a tra-
veller fhould go about to defcribe a palace, when he had
feen nothing but the privy; or like certain fortune-tel-
lers in Northern America, who have a way of reading
a man's deftiny by peeping into his breech. For, at the
time of inftituting thefe myfteries, there was not one
vine in all Ægypt, the natives drinking nothing but ale;
which liquor feems to have been far more ancient than
wine, and has the honour of owing its invention and
progrefs not only to the Egyptian Ofiris § but to the
Grecian Bacchus; who, in their famous expedition,
carried the receipt of it along with them, and gave it to
the nations they vifited or fubdued. Befides, Bacchus
himſelf was very feldom or never drunk for it is re-
corded of him, that he was the firft inventor of the mi-
tre; which he wore continually on his head, (as the
whole company of Bacchanals did,) to prevent vapours
and the beadach after hard drinking. And for this rea-
fon, fay fome, the fcarlet whore, when fhe makes the kings
of the earth drunk with her cup of abomination, is al-
ways fober herfelf, though the never balks the glass in
her turn, being, it feems, kept upon her legs by the
virtue of her triple mitre. Now, theſe feafts were infti-
tuted in imitation of the famous expedition Ofiris made
through the world, and of the company that attended
him, whereof the Bacchanalian ceremonies † were fo
many
Diod. Sic. 1. 1. Plut. de Ifide et Ofiride.
↑ Herod. 1. 2.
§ Diod. Sic. 1. 1. &. 3.
See the particulars in Diod. Sic. 1. 1. & 3.
》 Id. 1.4
188
ON THE MECHANICAL
many types and fymbols. From which account it is
manifeft, that the Fanatic rites of thefe Bacchanals can-
not be imputed to intoxications by wine, but muſt needs
have had a deeper foundation. What this was, we may
gather large hints from certain circumstances in the
courfe of their myfteries. For, in the first place, there
was in their proceffions, an entire mixture and confufion of
fexes; they affected to ramble about hills and deferts:
their garlands were of ivy and vine, emblems of cleav-
ing and clinging; or of fir, the parent of turpentine. It
is added, that they imitated fatyrs, were attended by
goats, and rode upon affes, all companions of great ſkill
and practice in affairs of gallantry. They bore, for their
enfigns, certain curious figures, perched upon long
poles, made into the fhape and fize of the virga genita-
lis, with its appurtenances; which were fo many fhadow's
and emblems of the whole myſtery, as well as trophies
fet up by the female conquerors. Laftly, in a certain
town of Attica, the whole folemnity, tripped of all its
types, was performed in puris naturalibus; the votaries.
not flying in covies, but forted into couples. The
fame may be farther conjectured from the death of
Orpheus, one of the inftitutors of thefe myfteries; who
was torn in pieces by women, becauſe he refuſed to com-
municate his orgies to them; which others explained,
by telling us, he had caftrated himſelf upon grief, for the
lofs of his wife.
Omitting many others of lefs note, the next Fanatics
we meet with of any eminence, were the numerous fects
of heretics, appearing in the five firft centuries of the Chri-
ftian era, from Simon Magus and his followers, to
thofe of Eutyches. I have collected their ſyſtems from
infinite reading; and comparing them with thoſe of
their fucceffors in the feveral ages fince, I find there are
certain bounds fet even to the irregularity of human
thought, and thoſe a great deal narrower than is com-
monly apprehended. For as they all frequently inter-
fere, even in their wildest ravings; fo there is one fun-
damental point, wherein they are fure to meet, as lines
in
Dionyfia Brauronia.
Vid. Photium in excerptis è Conone.
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
189
in a centre, and that is, the community of women. Great
were their folici.uies in this matter; and they never
failed of certain articles in their schemes of worſhip on
purpoſe to eft bliſh it.
;
The laſt Fanatics of note, were thofe which ſtarted up
in Germany, a little after the reformation of Luther
fpringing, as mushrooms do at the end of a harvest. Such
were John of Leyden, David George, Adam Neufter,
and many others; whofe vifions and revelations always
terminated in leading about half a dozen fifters apiece, and
inaking that practice a fundamental part of their fyſtem.
For human life is a continual navigation; and if we
expect our veſſels to paſs with ſafety, through the waves
and tempeits of this fluctuating world; it is neceffary to
make a good provifion of the flesh, as feamen lay in ſtore
of beef for a long voyage.
Now, from this brief furvey of fome principle fects
among the Fanatics in all ages, (having omitted the Ma-
bometans and others, who might alſo help to confirm the
argument I am about ;) to which I might add feveral
among ourſelves, íuch as the family of love, fweet fingers
of Ifrael, and the like; and from reflecting upon that
fundamental point in their doctrines, about women, where-
in they have fo unanimoufly agreed; I am apt to
imagine, that the feed or principle, which has ever put
men upon vifions in things invifible, is of a corporeal
nature. For the profounder chymifts inform us, that the
ſtrongeſt Spirits may be extracted from human flefb. Be-
fides, the ſpinal narrow, being nothing elſe but a con-
tinuation of the brain, muſt needs create a very free
communication between the fuperior faculties and thoſe
below and thus the thorn in the flesh, ferves for a ſpur
to the Spirit. I think it is agreed among phyſicians,
that nothing affects the head fo much, as a tentiginous
humour, repelled and elated to the upper region, found
by daily practice to run frequently up into madneſs. A
very eminent member of the faculty affured me, that
when the Quakers firſt appeared, he feldom was without
fome female patients among them, for the furor-
Perſons of a vifionary devotion, either men or women,
are, in their complexion, of all others, the moſt amo-
rous. For zeal is frequently kindled from the fame ſpark
with
190
ON THE MECHANICAL
with other fires, and from inflaming brotherly love,
will proceed to raife that of a gallant. If we infpect in-
to the ufual procefs of modern courtship, we fhall find
it to confift in a devout turn of the eyes, called ogling;
an artificial form of canting and whining, by rote, every
interval, for want of other matter, made up with a fhrug,
or a hum; a figh or a groan; the ſtyle compact of in-
fignificant words, incoherences, and repetition. Thefe
I take to be the moft accompliſhed rules of addreſs to a
miſtreſs; and where are thefe performed with more dex-
terity, than by the faints? Nay, to bring his argument
yet cloſer, I have been informed by certain fanguine
brethren of the firſt claſs, that in the height and orgaſ-
mus of their ſpiritual exerciſe, it has been frequent with
them *
*; immediately after which,
they found the Spirit to relax and flag of a fudden with
the nerves, and they were forced to haften to a conclu-
fion. This may be farther ftrengthened, by obferving
with wonder, how unaccountably all females are attract-
ed by vifionary or enthuſiaſtic preachers, though never
fo contemptible in their outward mien; which is uſually
ſuppoſed to be done upon confiderations purely fpiritual,
without any carnal regards at all. But I have reafon to
think, the ſex hath certain characteriſtics, by which they
form a truer judgment of human abilities and perform-
ings, than we ourſelves can poffibly do of each other.
Let that be as it will, thus much is certain, that however
fpiritual intrigues begin, they generally conclude like all
others; they may branch upwards towards heaven, but
the root is in the earth. Too intenſe a contemplation is
not the buſineſs of flesh and blood; it muft, by the ne-
ceffary courſe of things, in a little time, let go its hold,
and fall into matter. Lovers for the fake of celestial
converſe, are but another fort of Platonics, who pretend
to fee ftars and heaven in ladies eyes, and to look or
think no lower; but the fame pit is provided for both.
And they ſeem a perfect moral to the ſtory of that phi-
lofopher, who, while his thoughts and eyes were fixed
upon the constellations, found himſelf feduced by his
lower parts into a ditch.
I had
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
191
I had fomewhat more to ſay upon this part of the
fubject; but the poft is just going, which forces me in
great hafte to conclude,
Pray burn this
letter as foon
as it comes to
your hands.
SIR,
Yours, &
An
[192]
An ARGUMENT to prove that the ABOLISH-
ING OF CHRISTIANITY in ENGLAND, may,
as things now ftand, be attended with
fome inconveniences, and perhaps not
produce thoſe many good effects propoſed
thereby. *
I
Written in the year 1708.
Am very fenfible, what a weakneſs and prefump-
tion it is, to reafon againſt the general humour
and difpofition of the world. I remember it was with
great juſtice, and a due regard to the freedom, both
of the public and the prefs, forbidden, upon fevere
penalties, to write, or difcourfe, or lay wagers againſt
the union, even before it was confirmed by parliament;
becauſe that was looked upon as a defign to oppoſe the
current of the people; which, befides the folly of it, is
a manifeft breach of the fundamental law, that makes
this majority of opinion the voice of God. In like
manner, and for the very fame reaſons, it may perhaps
be neither fafe nor prudent to argue againſt the abolish-
ing
*The argument against abolishing Chriftianity, is carried on with
the higheſt wit and humour. Graver divines threaten their readers
with future puniſhments: Swift artfully exhibits a picture of pre-
fent fhame. He judged rightly in imagining, that a ſmall treatiſe,
written with a ſpirit of mirth and freedom, muſt be more efficacious,
than long fermons, or laborious leffons of morality. He endeavours to
laugh us into religion; well knowing, that we are often laughed
out of it. Orrery.
The argument, &c. is the most delicate, refined, complete, unva-
ried piece of irony, from the beginning to the end, that ever was
written fince the creation of the world. And without difpute, if in
the works of man there can be fuppofed any fuch thing as real per.
fection, we muſt allow it to confift in thoſe amazing productions of
wit and humour, which in all probability can never be excelled by
any
effort of genius, and beyond which it is impoffible to frame any
critical or diftinct idea of the human faculties..
With what egre-
gious contempt and ridicule doth he, in this piece, expofe the abfurdi-
ty of thoſe wretches, who are the patrons and abettors of vice and
irreligion? Swift.
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST, &c.
193
ing of Chriftianity, at a juncture when all parties appear
fo unanimouſly determined upon the point; as we can-
not but allow from their actions, their difcourfes, and
their writings. However, I know not how, whether
from the affectation of fingularity, or the perverſeneſs of
human nature; but fo it unhappily falls out, that I can-
not be entirely of this opinion. Nay, though I were
fure an order were iffued for my immediate profecution
by the Attorney-General, I ſhould ſtill confefs, that, in
the prefent polture of our affairs at home or abroad, I
do not yet fee the abfolute neceffity of extirpating the
Chritian religion from among us.
:
This perhaps may appear too great a paradox, even
for our wife and paradoxical age to endure therefore I
fhall handle it with all tenderneſs, and with the utmoſt
deference to the great and profound majority, which is of
another fentiment.
And yet the curious inay pleaſe to obferve, how much
the genius of a nation is liable to alter in half an age.
I have heard it affirmed for certain, by fome very old
people, that the contrary opinion was, even in their me-
mories, as much in vogue as the other is now; and that
a project for the aboliſhing of Chriſtianity would then
have appeared as fingular, and been thought as abfurd,
as it would be at this time to write or difcourfe in its
defence.
Therefore I freely own, that all appearances are a-
gainst me. The fyftem of the gospel, after the fate of
other fyftems, is generally antiquated and exploded;
and the mafs or body of the common people, among
whom it ſeems to have had its lateft credit, are now
grown as much aſhamed of it as their betters; opinions,
like faſhions, always defcending from thofe of quality to
the middle fort, and thence to the vulgar, where at length
they are dropped, and vaniſh.
But here I would not be miſtaken; and must there-
fore be fo bold as to borrow a diftinction from the wri-
ters on the other fide, when they make a difference be-
tween nominal and real Trinitarians. I hope no reader
imagines me fo weak to ftand up in the defence of real
Christianity, fuch as ufed in primitive times (if we
may believe the authors of thofe ages) to have an in-
VOL. I.
K
Aluence
t
!
194
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
fluence upon men's belief and actions. To offer at the
reftoring of that, would indeed be a wild project: it
would be to dig up foundations; to deſtroy at one blow
all the wit, and half the learning of the kingdom; to
break the entire frame and conftitution of things; to ruin
trade, extinguiſh arts and ſciences, with the profeffors of
them; in fhort, to turn our courts, exchanges, and ſhops
into deferts and would be full as abfurd as the propof-
al of Horace, where he advifes the Romans, all in a bo-
dy, to leave their city, and to feck a new feat in ſome re-
mote part of the would, by way of cure for the corrup-
tion of their manners.
:
Therefore I think this caution was in itſelf altogether
unneceflary, (which I have inferted only to prevent all
poffibility of cavilling ;) fince every candid reader will
eafily understand my difcourfe to be intended only in
defence of nominal Chriftianity; the other having been
for fome time wholly laid afide by general confent as ut-
terly inconfiftent with our prefent fchemes of wealth and
power.
But why we ſhould therefore caft off the name and
title of Chriftians, although the general opinion and re-
folution he fo violent for it, I confeſs I cannot (with
fubmiffion) apprehend, nor is the confequence neceffary.
However, fince the undertakers propofe fuch wonderful
advantages to the nation by this project, and advance.
many plaufible objections against the fyftem of Chrifti-
anity; I fhall briefly confider the ftrength of both, fair-
ly allow them their greateſt weight, and offer fuch an-
fwers as I think moſt reaſonable. After which I will beg
leave to fhew, what inconveniencies may poffibly hap-
pen by fuch an innovation, in the prefent pofture of our
affairs.
Firſt, One great advantage propofed by the abolishing`
of Chriftianity is, That it would very much enlarge and
eftabliſh liberty of confcience, that great bulwark of
our nation, and of the Proteftant religion; which is
ftill too much limited by prieftcraft, notwithstanding
all the good intentions of the legislature; as we have
lately found by a fevere inftance. For it is confidently
reported, that two young gentlemen, of real hopes,
bright wit, and profound judgment, who, upon a tho-
rough
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
195
rough examination of caufes and effects, and by the
mere force of natural abilities, without the leaft tincture
of learning, having inade a difcovery, that there was no
God, and generously communicating their thoughts for
the good of the public, were fome time ago, by an un-
parallelled feverity, and upon I know not what obfolete
law, broke only for blafphemy. And, as it hath been
wifely obſerved, if perfecution once begins, no man alive
knows how far it may reach, or where it will end.
In anſwer to all which, with deference to wifer judg-
ments, I think this rather fhews the neceffity of a no-
minal religion among us. Great wits love to be free
with the higheſt objects; and, if they cannot be allowed
a God to revile or renounce, they will speak evil of
dignities, abufe the government and reflect upon the
miniftry; which, I am fure, few will deny to be of much
more pernicious confequence; according to the faying
of Tiberius, Deorum offenfa diis cura. As to the parti-
cular fact related, I think it is not fair to argue from one
inftance; perhaps another cannot be produced: yet (to
the comfort of all thoſe who may be apprehenfive of
profecution) blafphemy, we know, is freely ſpoken a
million of times in every coffeehouſe and tavern, or
wherever elfe good company meet. It must be allowed in-
deed, that to break an Engliſh free-born officer only
for blafphemy, was, to fpeak the gentleft of fuch an
action, a very high ftrain of abfolute power. Little
can be faid in excufe for the General. Perhaps he was
afraid it might give offence to the allies, among whom,
for aught we knew, it may be the cuftom of the coun-
try to believe a God. But if he argued, as fome have
done, upon a miſtaken principle, that an officer who is
guilty of ſpeaking blafphemy, may, fome time or other,
proceed fo far as to raiſe a mutiny; the confequence is
by no means to be admitted for furely the commander
of an English army is like to be but ill obeyed, whoſe
foldiers fear and reverence him as little as they do a
Deity.
:
It is further objected against the gospel-fyftem, That
it obliges men to the belief of things too difficult for
freethinkers, and fuch as have fhaken off the preju-
K 2
dices
196
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
dices that ufually cling to a confined education. To
which I anſwer, That men fhould be cautious how they
raiſe objections, which reflect upon the wisdom of the
nation. Is not every body freely allowed to believe
whatever he pleaſeth, and to publiſh his belief to the
world whenever he thinks fit, eſpecially if it ſerves to
strengthen the party which is in the right? Would any
indifferent foreigner, who fhould read the trumpery late-
ly written by Afgil, Tindal, Toland, Coward, and
forty more, imagine the goſpel to be our rule of faith,
and confirmed by parliaments? Does any man cither be-
lieve, or fay he believes, or defire to have it thought that
he fays he believes one fyllable of the matter? And is
any man worſe received upon that fcore; or does he
find his want of nominal faith a diſadvantage to him, in
the purfuit of any civil or military employment? What
if there be an old dormant ftatute or two against him?
Are they not now obſolete, to a degree, that Empion
and Dudley themfelves, if they were now alive, would
find it impoffible to put them in execution ?
It is likewife urged, That there are, by computation,
in this kingdom, above ten thousand parfors; whofe re-
venues added to thofe of my Lords the Bishops, would
fuffice to maintain, at leaſt, two hundred young gentle-
men of wit and pleafure, and free-thinking; enemies to
prieftcraft, narrow principles, pedantry, and prejudi-
ces; who might be an ornament to the court and town:
and then again, fo great a number of able [bodied] di.
vines might be a recruit to our fleet and armies. This
indeed appears to be a confideration of fome weight.
But then, on the other fide, feveral things deferve to be
confidered likewife: As, firit, whether it may not be
thought neceffary, that in certain tracts of country,
like what we call parishes, there fhould be one man, at
leaſt, of abilities to read and write. Then it feems
a wrong computation, that the revenues of the church
throughout
Afgil wrote an argument to prove, that man may be tranẞated
from hence into eternal life, without paffing through death,
Toland published fome deiftical books.
Tindal's writings were blafphemous and atheiſtical.
Coward afferted the mortality of the foul, and alledged the feat of
it to be in the blood. Hawkef.
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
197
throughout this ifland, would be large enough to main-
tain two hundred young gentlemen, or even half that
number after the prefent refined way of living; that is,
to allow each of them fuch a rent, as, in the modern
form of fpeech, would make them eaſy. But ftill there
is in this project a greater mifchief behind; and we
ought to beware of the woman's folly, who killed the hen
that every morning laid her a golden egg. For, pray,
what will become of the race of men in the next age,
if we had nothing to trust to, befide the fcrophulous,
confumptive productions furnifhed by our men of with
and pleaſure; when, having fquandered away their
vigour, health, and eftates, they are forced, by fome dif
agreeable marriage, to piece up their broken fortunes,
and entail rottennefs and politenefs on their pofterity?
Now, here are ten thousand perfons reduced, by the
wife regulations of Henry VIII. to the neceflity of a low
diet, and moderate exercife, who are the only great re-
florers of our breed; without which the nation would, in
an age or two, become one great hoſpital.
Another advantage propofed by the abo'ifhing of
Christianity is, the clear gain of one day in feven, which
is now entirely loft, and confequently the kingdom one
feventh lefs confiderable in trade, bufinefs, and pleaſure;
beſides the loſs to the public of fo many ftately ftructures
now in the hands of the clergy; which might be con-
verted into play-houfes, market-houfes, exchanges, com-
mon dormitories, and other public edifices.
I hope I fhall be forgiven a hard word, if I call this
a perfect cavil. I readily own there hath been an old
cuſtom, time out of mind, for people to affemble in the
churches every Sunday; and that fhops are ftill frequent-
ly fhut, in order, as it is conceived, to preferve the
memory of that ancient practice. But how this can
prove a hindrance to bufinefs or pleaſure, is hard to
imagine. What if the men of pleaſure are forced, one
day in the week, to game at home, inftead of the choco-
Latehouse? Are not the taverns and coffeehouses open?
Can there be a more convenient feafon for taking a doſe
of phyfic? Are fewer claps got upon Sundays than o-
ther days? Is not that the chief day for traders to
fum up the accounts of the week; and for lawyers to
prepare
198
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
prepare their briefs? But I would fain know, how it
can be pretended, that the churches are miſapplied?
Where are more appointments and rendezvoufes of gal-
lantry? where moie care to appear in the foremost box,
with greater advantage of drefs? where more meetings
for bufinefs? where more bargains driven of all forts?
and where fo many conveniencies or incitements to
fleep?
There is one advantage, greater than any of the fore-
going, propofed by the abolishing of Chriftianity; That
it will utterly extinguifh parties among us, by removing
thoſe factious diftinctions of High and Low Church, of
Whig and Tory, Prefbyterian and Church of England;
which are now fo many grievous clogs upon public pro-
ceedings, and are apt to difpofe men to prefer the grati-
fying themſelves, or depreffing their adverſaries, before
the most important intereſt of the ſtate.
I confefs, if it were certain, that fo great an advan-
tage would redound to the nation by this expedient, I
would ſubmit, and be filent. But will any man fay, that
if the words whoring, drinking, cheating, lying, ftealing,
were, by act of parliament, ejected out of the English
tongue and dictionaries, we fhould all awake next morn-
ing chafte and temperate, honeft and juft, and lovers of
truth? Is this a fair confequence? Or, if the phyficians
would forbid us to pronounce the words, pox, gout, rheu-
matifm, and ftone, would that expedient ferve, like fo ma-
ny talifmans, to destroy the difeafes themfelves? Are par-
ty and faction rooted in men's hearts no deeper than phraſes
borrowed from religion, or founded upon no firmer prin-
ciples? And is our language fo poor, that we cannot find
other terms to exprefs them? Are, envy, pride, avarice,
and ambition, fuch il nomenclators, that they cannot
furnish appellations for their owners? Will not Heydukes
and Mamalukes, Mandarines and Patfhaws, or any o-
ther words formed at pleaſure, ferve to diſtinguiſh thoſe
who are in the miniftry, from others who would be in
it if they could? What, for instance, is eaſier than to
vary the form of speech? and, instead of the word church,
make it a queftion in politics, whether the monument
be in danger? Becauſe rcligion was neareſt at hand to
furniſh a few convenient phrafes, is our invention fo
barren,
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
199
:
barren, we can find no other? Suppofe, for argument's
fake, that the Tories favoured Margarita, the Whigs Mrs.
Tofts, and the Trimmers Valentini; † would not Mar-
garitians, Toftians, and Valentinians, be very tolerable.
marks of diftinction? The Prafini and Veniti, two moſt
virulent factions in Italy, began (if I remember right)
by a diftinétion of colours in ribbands and we might
contend, with as good a grace, about the dignity of the
blue and the green; which would ferve as properly to
divide the court, the parliament, and the kingdom be-
tween them, as any terms of art whatfoever borrowed
from religion. And therefore I think there is little
force in this objection againſt Chriſtianity, or profpect of
fo great an advantage as is propofed in the abolining of
it.
It is again objected, as a very abfurd ridiculous cuſtom,
That a ſet of men fhould be fuffered, much leſs employ-
ed, and hired, to bawl one day in feven, against the law-
fulneſs of thoſe methods moft in afe towards the purſuit
of greatness, riches, and pleaſure, which are the conftant
practice of all men alive on the other fix. But this ob-
jection is, I think, a little unworthy fo refined an age as
ours. Let us argue this matter calmly. I appeal to
the breaft of any polite freethinker, whether, in the
purſuit of gratifying a predominant paffion, he hath not
always felt a wonderful incitement, by reflecting it was
a thing forbidden and therefore we fee, in order to
cultivate this tafte, the wisdom of the nation hath taken
ſpecial care, that the ladies fhould be furnished with
prohibited filks, and the men with prohibited wine.
And indeed it were to be wished, that fome other prohi-
bitions were promoted, in order to improve the plea-
fures of the town, which, for want of fuch expedients,
begin already, as I am told, to flag and grow languid,
giving way daily to cruel inroads from the spleen.
:
It is likewife propofed, as a great advantage to the
public, That if we once difcard the fyftem of the gof
pel, all religion will of courfe be banished for ever; and
confequently, along with it, thofe grievous prejudices of
education;
Italian fingers then in vogue. Margarita was afterwards mar
ried to Dr. Pepufche.
200
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
education; which, under the names of virtue, conscience,
honour, justice, and the like, are fo apt to difturb the
peace of human minds; and the notions whereof are ſo
hard to be eradicated by right reafon or freethinking,
fometimes during the whole courſe of our lives.
Here, firſt, I obferve how difficult it is to get rid of a
phrafe, which the world is once grown fond of, though
the occafion that first produced it be entirely taken away.
For feveral years paft, if a man had but an ill-favoured
nofe, the deep-thinkers of the age would, fome way or o-
ther, contrive to impute the caufe to the prejudice of his
education. From this fountain are faid to be derived all
our foolish notions of juftice, piety, love of our coun-
try; all our opinions of God, or a future ftate, heaven,
hell, and the like: and there might formerly, perhaps,
have been fome pretence for this charge. But fo effec-
tual care hath been fince taken to remove thofe prejudi-
ces, by an entire change in the methods of education,
that (with honour I mention it to our polite innovators)
the young gentlemen who are now on the fcene, feem
to have not the leaft tincture left of thofe infufions, or
ftring of thofe weeds: and, by confequence, the reafon
for abolishing nominal Chriftianity upon that pretext, is
wholly ceaſed.
For the reft, it may perhaps admit a controverfy, whe-
ther the baniſhing all notions of religion whatfoever
would be convenient for the vulgar. Not that I am, in
the leaſt, of opinion with thoſe who hold religion to have
been the invention of politicians, to keep the lower part
of the world in awe, by the fear of invifible powers;
unleſs mankind were then very different from what it is
now: for I look upon the maſs or body of our people
here in England to be as free-thinkers, that is to fay, as
ftanch unbelievers, as any of the highest rank. But I
conceive ſome ſcattered notions about a fuperior power
to be of fingular ufe for the common people, as furniſh-
ing excellent materials to keep children quiet when they
grow peevish, and providing topics of amufement in a
tedious winter night.
Laftly, It is propofed, as a fingular advantage, That
the aboliſhing of Chriftianity will very much contribute
to the uniting of Proteftants, by enlarging the terms of
communion,
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
ΤΟΥ
communion, fo as to take in all forts of diffenters; who
are now ſhut out of the pale upon account of a few ce-
remonies, which all fides confefs to be things indifferent:
That this alone will effectually anſwer the great ends of
a scheme for comprehenfion, by opening a large noble
gate, at which all bodies may enter; whereas the chaf
fering with diffenters, and dodging about this or the o-
ther ceremony, is but like opening a few wickets, and
leaving them at jar, by which no more than one can get
in at a time, and that not without ftooping, and fideling,
and ſqueezing his body.
To all this I anfwer, That there is one darling incli-
nation of mankind, which ufually affects to be a retainer
to religion, though fhe be neither its parent, its godmo-
ther, or its friend; I mean the fpirit of oppofition, that
lived long before Chriſtianity, and can eaſily fubfift
without it. Let us, for instance, examine wherein the
oppofition of fectaries among us confifts. We fhall find
Chriſtianity to have no ſhare in it at all. Does the gof-
pel any where preferibe a ftarched, fqueezed, counte-
nance, a fiff formal gait, a fingularity of manners and
habit, or any affected modes of fpeech, different from
the reaſonable part of mankind? Yet, if Chriſtianity
did not lend its name to ftand in the gap, and to employ
or divert theſe humours, they muft of neceflity be ſpent
in contraventions to the laws of the land, and diſturb-
ance of the public peace. There is a portion of en-
thufiafm affigned to every nation, which, if it hath not
proper objects to work on, will burit out, and fet all
in a flame. If the quiet of a ftate can be bought by
only flinging men a few ceremonies to devour, it is a
purchaſe no wife man would refufe. Let the maſtiffs a-
mufe themſelves about a fheep's fkin ftuffed with hay,
provided it will keep them from worrying the flock.
The inftitution of convents abroad feems in one point a
ftrain of great wiſdom; there being few irregularities in
human paffions, that may not have recourie to vent
themſelves in fome of thofe orders; which are fo many
retreats for the fpeculative, the melancholy, the proud,
the filent, the politic, and the morofe, to ſpend them-
felves, and evaporate the noxious particles: for each
of whom we in this ifland are forced to provide feve-
K 5
ral
202
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
ral fects of religion, to keep them quiet. And whenever
Chriſtianity fhall be abolished, the legislature muft find
fome other expedient to employ and entertain them.
For what imports it how large a gate you open, if there
will be always left a number, who place a pride and a
merit in refufing to enter?
Having thus confidered the moſt important objections
against Christianity, and the chief advantages propofed
by the abolishing thereof; I fhall now, with equal defe-
rence and fubmiffion to wifer judgments as before, pro-
ceed to mention a few inconveniencies that may happen,
if the gospel fhould be repealed; which perhaps the pro-
jectors may not have fufficiently confidered.
And, firft, I am very fenfible how much the gentlemen
of wit and pleaſure are apt to murmur, and be choked
at the fight of fo many daggled-tail parfons, who hap-
pen to fall in their way, and offend their eyes. But
at the fame time thefe wife reformers do not confider,
what an advantage and felicity it is, for great wits to be
always provided with objects of fcorn and contempt, in
order to exercife and improve their talents, and divert
their ſpleen from falling on each other, or on themſelves;
efpecially when all this may be done without the leaft
imaginable danger to their perfons.
And to urge another argument of a parallel nature:
If Chriftianity were once ablifhed, how could the free-
thinkers, the ſtrong reafoners, and the men of profound
learning, be able to find another fubject fo calculated in
all points whereon to diſplay their abilities? What won-
derful productions of wit fhould we be deprived of,
from thole whofe genius, by continual practice, hath
been wholly turned upon raillery and invectives againſt
religion, and would therefore never be able to fhine or
diftinguish themſelves upon any other fubject? We
are daily complaining of the great decline of wit among
us; and would we take away the greateft, perhaps the
only topic we have left? Who would ever have fuf-
pected Afgil for a wit, or Toland for a philofopher,
if the inexhauftible ftock of Chriftianity had not been
at hand to provide them with materials? What other
fubject through all art or nature could have pro-
duced Tindal for a profound author, or furnifhed him
with
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
203
with readers? It is the wife choice of the fubject that
alone adorns and diſtinguiſhes the writer. For had an
hundred fuch pens as theſe been employed on the fide of
religion, they would have immediately funk into filence
and oblivion.
!
Nor do I think it wholly ground lefs, or my fears al-
together imaginary, that the abolishing of Chriftianity
may perhaps bring the church in danger, or at leaft put
the fenate to the trouble of another fecuring vote. I
defire I may not be miſtaken; I am far from prefuming
to affirm, or think, that the church is in danger at pre-
fent, or as things now ftand; but we know not how foon
it may be fo, when the Chriftian religion is repealed.
As plaufible as this project ſeems, there may be a dan-
gerous defign lurking under it. Nothing can be more no-
torious, than that the Atheists, Deifts, Socinians, Anti-
trinitarians, and other fubdivifions of free-thinkers, are
perfons of little zeal for the prefent ecclefiaftical efta-
blishment. Their declared opinion is for repealing the
facramental teft; they are very indifferent with regard:
to ceremonies ; nor do they hold the jus divinum of Epif-
copacy. Therefore this may be intended as one politic
ſtep towards altering the conftitution of the church eſta-
bliſhed, and fetting up Prefbytery in the ftead; which I
leave to be further confidered by thoſe at the helm.
1
In the last place,. I think nothing can be more plain;
than that, by this expedient, we fhall run into the evil
we chiefly pretend to avoid; and that the aboliſhment:
of the Chriſtian religion, will be the readieſt.courſe we
can take to introduce Popery. And.I am the more in-
clined to this opinion, becauſe we know it hath been
the conftant practice of the Jefuits, to fend over emiſſa-
ries, with inftructions to perſonate themſelves members
of the feveral prevailing fects among us. So it is record-
ed that they have at fundry times appeared in the guife
of Prefbyterians, Anabaptifts, Independents, and Quakers,
according as any of theſe were moft in credit: fo, fince.
the fashion hath been taken up of exploding religion,
the Popish miffionaries have not been wanting to mix.
with the free-thinkers; among whom Toland, the
great oracle of the Anti-chriftians, is an Iriſh prieſt, the:
fon of an Irish prieſt; and the moſt learned and inge-.
*་
niouss
204
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
:
nious author of a book called the rights of the Chriftian
church, was, in a proper juncture, reconciled to the Ro-
mifh faith; whofe true fon, as appears by a hundred paf-
fages in this treatife, he ftill continues. Perhaps I could
add fome others to the number but the fact is beyond
difpute. And the reafoning they proceed by is right:
for fuppofing Chriftianity to be extinguifhed, the people
will never be at eafe till they find out fome other method
of worship; which will as infallibly produce fuperftiti-
on, as fuperftition will end in Popery.
·
And therefore, if, notwithstanding all I have ſaid, it
ftill be thought neceffary to have a bill brought in tor
repealing Chriftianity, I would humbly offer an amend
ment, that inftead of the word Chriftianity, may be put
religion in general; which, I conceive, will much bet-
ter answer all the good ends propofed by the projectors of
it. For as long as we leave in being a God and his pro-
vidence, with all the neceflary confequences which curi-
ous and inquifitive men will be apt to draw from fuch
premiffes; we do not ſtrike at the root of the evil, though
we fhould ever fo effectually annihilate the prefent fcheme
of the gofpel. For of what ufc is freedom of thought,
if it will not produce freedom of action; which is the
fole end, how remote foever in appearance, of all objec-
tions againft Chriftianity? and therefore the free-think-
ers confider it as a fort of edifice, wherein all the parts
have fuch a mutual dependance on each other, that,
if you happen to pull out one fingle nail, the whole
fabric inuit fall to the ground. This was happily expreí
fed by him, who had heard of a text brought for proof
of the Trinity, which in an ancient manufcript was dif-
ferently read; he thereupon immediately took the hint,
and, by a fudden deduction of a long ferites, moft lo-
gically concluded, Why, if it be as you fay, I may fafely
whore and drink on, and defy the parfon. From which,
and many the like inftances, eaſy to be produced, I think
nothing can be more manifeft, than that the quarrel is
not against any particular points of hard digeftion in
the
† A forites differs from a fyllogifm, in that it takes only the minor
propofition. An example of this figure may be feen, vol. 5. in John
Bull, part 2. chap. 17. near the end, p. 268, Hawkef.
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
205
the Chriſtian fyftem; but againſt religion in general;
which, by laying reftraints on human nature, is fuppofed
the great enemy to the freedom of thought and action.
Upon the whole, if it.fhall be thought for the benefit
of church and ſtate, that Chriſtianity be abolished; I
conceive, however, it may be more convenient to defer
the execution to a time of peace; and not venture in
this conjuncture to difoblige our allies; who, as it falle
out, are all Chriftians; and many of them, by the pre-
judices of their education, fo bigotted, as to place a fort
of pride in the appellation. If, upon being rejected by
them, we are to trufl to an alliance with the Turk, we
fhall find ourſelves much deceived: for as he is too re-
mote, and generally engaged in war with the Perfian
Emperor, fo his people would be more fcandalized at
our infidelity, than our Chriftian neighbours. For the
Turks are not only ftrict obfervers of religious worſhip;
but, what is worfe, believe a God; which is more than
is required of us, even while we preferve the name of
Chriftians.
To conclude: Whatever fome may think of the great
advantages to trade by this favourite fheme, I do very
much apprehend, that in fix months time after the act is
paffed for the extirpation of the gospel, the Bank and
Eaft-India flock may fall, at least, one per cent. And
fince that is fifty times more than ever the wildom of our
age thought fit to venture for the preſervation of Chrifti-
anity, there is no reaſon we fhould be at fo great a lofs
merely for the fake of destroying it.
A Pro-
[ 206 ]
A Project for the ADVANCEMENT of RE-
LIGION and the REFORMATION of MAN-
NERS.
*
By a PERSON of QUALITY.
Written in the year 1709
To the Countess of BERKELEY. +
MADAM,
M
Y intention in prefixing your Ladyfhip's name,
is not, after the common form, to defire your
prot.ċti n of the following papers; which I take to
be a very unreasonable requeit; fince, by being in-
fcribed to your Ladyfhip, though without your know-
ledge, and from a concealed hand, you cannot recom-
mend
*The author appears in earneft throughout this whole treatiſe ;
and the dedication, or introduction, is in a ftrain of ferious pane y-
ric, which the Lady, to whom it is addretfed, undoubtedly deſerved.
But as the pamphlet is of the fatirical kind, I am apt to imagine, that
the Dean put a violence upon himſelf, in chufing to appear candidly
ferious, rather than to fimile under his ufual maſk of gravity.
thinks, upon thefe occalions, 1 perceive him writing in fhackles.
Orrery.
Mc-
In the Project, &c. Dr. Swift appears in the character of a gre it
infpired prophet. He crieth aloud, he fpareth not, he lifteth up bis
voice like a trumpet, If. lviii. 1.
He rebuketh all ranks of men for
their depravities and corruptions, their profaneneis, their blafphemy
and irreligion. His difcourfe he addrefeth unto his fovereign, and,
beyond all contradiction, proveth it to be an important duty incum-
bent on all princes, to encourage and to enforce morals and religion,
by exerting their utmoſt authority. He then applieth himſelf to the
legiflature, conjuring them to forward fo noble a defign, and to pro-
vide remedies againſt that torrent of iniquity, which, if not vigorouf-
ly oppoſed, would certainly increaſe, and never ftop in its career, un-
til it fubverted the conftitution. And, finally, he declares, in the
prophetic ftyle and fpirit, that a reformation of manners, and turn-
ing unto God, are the beſt natural as well as religious means, to bring
the war to an happy conclufion. Swift.
This excellent Lady, was Elifabeth, the daughter of Baptift
Noel, Viſcount Campden, and fifter to Edward Earl of Gainsborough,
Hawkef.
A PROJECT, &c.
207
mend them without fome fufpicion of partiality. My
real defign is, I confefs, the very fame I have often de-
teſted in moſt dedications; that of publiſhing your praiſes
to the world; not upon the fubject of your noble birth,
for I know others as noble; or of the greatnefs of your
fortune, for I know others far greater; or of that beau-
tiful race, (the images of their parents,) which calls you
mother; for even this may perhaps have been equalled
in fome other age or country. Befides, none of theſe
advantages do derive any accomplishments to the owners,
but ferve, at beft, only to adorn what they really poffefs.
What I intend, is your piety, truth, good ſenſe, and good
nature, affability, and charity; wherein I wish your
Ladyship had many equals, or any fuperiors; and I wish
I could fay, I knew them too, for then your Ladyfhip
might have had a chance to efcape this addrefs. In the
mean time, I think it highly neceffary, for the intereſt
of virtue and religion, that the whole kingdom fhould
be informed in fome parts of your character: for in-
ſtance, That the easiest and politeft converſation, joined
with the trueft piety, may be obſerved in your Lady-
fhip, in as great perfection as they were ever feen apart
in any other perfon: That, by your prudence and
management under feveral difadvantages, you have pre-
ferved the luftre of that moſt noble family into which
you are graffed, and which the unmeafurable profufion
of ancestors, for many generations, had too much
eclipfed: Then how happily you perform every office
of life, to which Providence hath called you; in the edu-
cation of thofe two incomparable daughters, whoſe con-
duct is ſo univerfally admired; in every duty of a pru-
dent, complying, affectionate wife; in that care which
defcends to the meancit of your domeſtics; and, laſtly,
in that endleſs bounty to the poor, and difcretion where
to diſtribute it. I infift on my opinion, that it is of im-
portance for the public, to know this, and a great deal
more of your Ladyfhip; yet whoever goes about to in-
form them, fhall, inftead of finding credit perhaps be
cenfured for a flatterer. To avoid fo ufual a reproach, I
declare this to be no dedication, but merely an introduc-
tion to a propofal for the advancement of religion and
morals, by tracing, however imperfectly, fome few linea-
ments
208
A PROJECT FOR THE
ments in the character of a Lady, who hath ſpent all her
life in the practice and promotion of both.
A
Mong all the ſchemes offered to the public in this
projecting age, I have obferved, with fome dif-
pleature, that there have never been any for the improve-
ment of religion and morals: which, beſides the piety
of the deſign from the confequence of fuch a reformation
in a future life, would be the beft natural means for ad-
vancing the public felicity of the ſtate, as well as the
prefent happinefs of every individual. For as much as
faith and morality are declined among us, I am altoge-
ther confident, they might, in a ſhort time, and with no
very great trouble, be railed to as high a perfection as
numbers are capable of receiving. Indeed the method is
fo eafy and obvious, and fome prefent opportunities fo
good, that, in order to have this project reduced to prac-
tice, there ſeems to want nothing more than to put thoſe
in mind, who, by their honour, duty, and intereft, are
chiefly concerned.
But becauſe it is idle to propofe remedies before we
are affured of the diſeaſe, or to be in fear till we are
convinced of the danger; Ifhall first fhew in general, that
the nation is extremely corrupted in religion and morals;
and then I will offer a fhort ſcheme for the reformation
of both.
As to the first, I know it is reckoned but a form of
fpeech,when divines complain of the wickednels of the age.
However I believe, upon a fair compariſon with other times.
and countries, it would be found an undoubted truth.
For, first, to deliver nothing but plain matter of fact,
without exaggeration or fatire, I fuppofe it will be
granted, that hardly one in an hundred among our peo-
ple of quality or gentry appears to act by any principle
of religion; that great numbers of them do entirely dif
card it, and are ready to own their difbelief of all revela-
tion in ordinary difcourfe. Nor is the cafe much better
among the vulgar, eſpecially in great towns, where the
profanenefs and ignorance of handicraftfmen, fmall tra-
ders, fervants, and the like, are to a degree very hard to
be imagined greater. Then it is obferved abroad, that no
race of mortals hath fo little fenfe of religion, as the Eng-
lifh
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
209
lifh foldiers. To confirm which, I have been often told
by great officers of the army, that, in the whole compaſs
of their acquaintance, they could not recollect three of
their profeffion, who ſeemed to regard or believe one
fyllable of the gospel. And the fame at leaft may be
affirmed of the fleet. The confequences of all which
upon the actions of men, are equally manifeft. They
never go about, as in former times, to hide or palliate
their vices, but expofe them freely to view, like any o-
ther common occurrences of life, without the leaft re-
proach from the world or themſelves. For inftance, any
man will tell you, he intends to be drunk this evening,
or was fo laſt night, with as little ceremony or fcruple, as
he would tell you the time of the day. He will let you
know he is going to a wench, or that he has got a clap,
with as much indifferency, as he would a piece of public
news. He will fwear, curfe, or blafpheme, without the
leaft paffion or provocation. And though all regard
for reputation is not quite laid afide in the other fex, it
is however at fo low an ebb, that very few among them
feem to think virtue and conduct of any necelfity for
preferving it. If this be not fo, how comes it to paſs,
that women of tainted reputations find the fame counte-
nance and reception in all public places, with thoſe of
the niceft virtue, who pay and receive vifits from them
without any manner of fcruple? Which proceeding, as
it is not very old among us, fo I take it to be of moſt
pernicious confequence. It looks like a fort of com-
pounding between virtue and vice; as if a woman were
allowed to be vitious, provided the be not a profligate ;
as if there were a certain point where gallantry ends,
and infamy begins: or that an hundred criminal amours
were notas pardonable as half a ſcore.
Befides thofe corruptions already mentioned, it would
be endleſs to enumerate fuch as arife from the excels of
play or gaming; the cheats, the quarrels, the oaths,
and blafphemies among the men; among the women,
the neglect of houſehold-affairs, the unlimited freedoms,
the indecent paflion; and, laftly, the known inlet to all
lewdnefs, when after an ill run the person must answer
the defects of the pure: the rule on fuch occafions hold-
ing
A
210
A PROJECT FOR THE
ing true in play, as it does in law, Quod not habet in cru-
mena, luat in corpore.
But all theſe are trifles in compariſon, if we ſtep into
other ſcenes, and confider the fraud and cozenage of
trading men and fhopkeepers; that infatiable gulf of in-
juftice and opprellion, the law; the open traffic of all
civil and military employments, (I wish it refted there,)
without the leaft regard to merit or qualifications; the
corrupt management of men in office; the many de-
teſtable abuſes in chufing thoſe who reprefent the peo-
ple; with the management of interefts and factions a-
mong the reprefentatives: to which I muſt be bold to
add, the ignorance of fome of the lower clergy; the mean
fervi e temper of others; the pert pragmatical demean-
our of feveral young flagers in divinity, upon their first
producing themſelves into the world; with many other
circumstances needlefs, or rather invidious to mention
which, falling in with the corruptions already related,
have, however unjustly, almoft rendered the whole order
contemptible.
This is a fhort view of the general depravities among
us, without entering into particulars, which would be
an endless labour. Now, as univerfal and deep-rooted
as thefe appear to be, I am utterly deceived, if an ef-
fectual remedy might not be applied to most of them;
neither am I at prefent upon a wild fpeculative project,
but fuch a one as may be eaſily put in execution.
For, while the prerogative of giving all employments
continues in the crown, either immediately, or by ſub-
ordination, it is in the power of the prince to make piety
and virtue become the faſhion of the age, if at the fame
time he would make them neceffary qualifications for fa-
vour and preferment.
It is clear from prefent experience, that the bare ex-
ample of the beſt prince will not have any mighty influ-
ence, where the age is very corrupt. For when was
there ever a better prince on the throne than the prefent
Queen? I do not talk of her talent for governinent, her
love of the people, or any other qualities that are pure-
ly
Perhaps the author intended to intimate that it extended to
ecclefiaftical. Hawkef.
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
211
ly regal; but her piety, charity, temperance, conjugal
love, and whatever other virtues do beft adorn a private
life; wherein, without queſtion or flattery, the hath no
fuperior: yet neither will it be fatire, or peevifh invective,
to affirm, that infidelity and vice are not much diminiſh-
ed fince her coming to the crown; nor will, in proba-
bility, till more effectual remedies be provided.
Thus human nature feems to lie under the diſadvan-
tage, that the example alone of a vitious prince will in
time corrupt an age, but the example of a good one
will not be fufficient to reform it without further endea-
vours. Princes must therefore fupply this defect by a
vigorous exercife of that authority which the law has
left them, by making it every man's intereft and honour
to cultivate religion and virtue, by rendering vice a dif-
grace, and the certain ruin to preferment or pretenfions:
all which they ſhould firſt attempt in their own courts
and families. For instance, might not the Queen's do-
meſtics of the middle and lower fort be obliged, upon
penalty of fufpenfion or lofs of their employments, to
a conftant weekly attendance on the fervice of the
church to a decent behaviour in it; to receive the
facrament four times a-year; to avoid fwearing, and
irreligious profane difcourfes, and to the appearance at
leaft of temperance and chastity? Might not the care of
all this be committed to the ftrict inspection of proper
officers? Might not thoſe of higher rank, and nearer ac-
cefs to her Majefty, receive her own commands to the
fame purpoſe, and be countenanced or disfavoured ac-
cording as they obey? Might not the Queen lay her in-
junctions on the bishops, and other great men of un-
doubted piety, to make diligent inquiry, and give her
notice, if any perfon about her fhould happen to be of
libertine principles or morals? Might not all thoſe who
enter upon any office in her Majefty's family, be obliged
to take an oath parallel with that againft fimony,
which is adminiftered to the clergy? It is not to be
doubted, but that if thefe or the like proceedings were
duly obferved, morality and religion would foon be-
come faſhionable court-virtues, and be taken up as
the only methods to get or keep employments there;
which
212
A PROJECT FOR THE
which alone would have mighty influence upon many of
the nobility and principal gentry.
But if the like methods were purfued as far as poffible,
with regard to thoſe who are in the great employments
of ſtate, it is hard to conceive how general a reformation
they might in time produce among us. For if piety
and virtue were once reckoned qualifications neceffary
to preferment, every man thus endowed, when put into
great ftations, would readily imitate the Queen's exam-
ple in the diſtribution of all offices in his difpofal; efpe-
cially if any apparent tranfgreffion, through favour or
partiality, would be imputed to him for a misdemeanor,
by which he muft certainly forfeit his favour and ſtari-
on. And there being fuch great numbers in employ-
ment, ſcattered through every town and county in this
kingdom, if all thefe were exemplary in the conduct of
their lives, things would foon take a new face, and reli-
gion receive a mighty encouragement. Nor would the
public weal be leſs advanced; fince of nine offices in ten
that are ill executed, the defect is not in capacity or un-
derſtanding, but in common honefty. I know no em-
ployment, for which piety difqualifies any man: and if
it did, I doubt the objection would not be very ſeaſon-
ably offered at prefent; becauſe it is perhaps too juft a re-
flection, that, in the difpofal of places, the queftion, whe-
ther a perfon be fit for what he is recommended to? is
generally the laft that is thought on or regarded.
I have often imagined, that fomething parallel to
the office of cenfors anciently in Rome, would be of
mighty ufe among us, and could be easily limited from
running into any exorbitances. The Romans under-
ftood liberty at least as well as we, were as jealous of
it, and upon every occafion as bold afferters: yet I do not
remember to have read any great complaints of the
abuſes in that office among them; but many admirable
effects of it are left upon record. There are feveral per-
nicious vices frequent and notorious among us, that
eſcape or elude the punishment of any law we have
yet invented, or have had no law at all againſt them;
ſuch as atheiſm, drunkennefs, fraud, avarice, and fe-
veral others; which, by this inftitution, wildly regu-
lated,
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
213
lated, might be much reformed. Suppofe, for inftance,
that itinerary commiffioners were appointed to infpect,
every where throughout the kingdom, into the conduct
(at least) of men in office, with refpect to their morals
and religion, as well as their abilities; to receive the com-
plaints and informations that ſhould be offered againſt
them, and make their report here upon oath to the court
or the miniftry, who fhould reward or punish according-
ly. I avoid entering into the particulars of this or any
other fcheme: which coming from a private hand, might
be liable to many defects, but would foon be digefted by
the wiſdom of the nation. And, furely, fix thouſand
pounds a-year would not be ill laid out among as many
commillioners duly qualified, who in three divifions
fhould be perfonally obliged to take their yearly circuits
for that purpofc.
But this is befide my prefent defign; which was only
to fhew what degree of reformation is in the power of
the Queen, without the interpofition of the legislature;
and which her Majesty is, without question, obliged in
confcience to endeavour by her authority, as much as ſhe
doth by her practice.
1
It will be cafily granted, that the example of this
great town hath a mighty influence over the whole king-
dom; and it is as manifeft, that the town is equally in-
fluenced by the court, and the miniftry, and thoſe who,
by their employments or their hopes, depend upon them.
Now, if under fo excellent a princefs as the prefent
Queen, we would fuppofe a family triatly regulated, as
I have above propofed; a miniltry where every fingle
perfon was of diftinguished piety; if we fhould fuppofe
all great offices of ftate and law filled after the fame
manner, and with fuch as were equally diligent in chufing
perions, who, in their feveral fubordinations, would be
obliged to follow the examples of their fuperiors, under
the penalty of lofs of favour and place; will not every
body grant, that the empire of vice and irreligion would
be foon deftroyed in this great metropolis, and receive
a terrible blow through the whole iſland, which hath ſo
great an intercourſe with it, and ſo much affects to follow
its fafhions?
For, if religion were once underſtood to be the necef-
fary
214
A PROJECT FOR THE
fary step to favour and preferment, can it be imagined
that any man would openly offend againſt it, who had
the leaſt regard for his reputation or his fortune? There
is no quality fo contrary to any nature, which men can-
not affect, and put on upon occafion, in order to ferve
an intereft, or gratify a prevailing paffion. The proud-
eft man will perfonate humility, the morofeft learn to
flatter, the lazieſt will be fedulous and active, where he
is in purſuit of what he hath much at heart: how rea-
dy therefore would most men be to ftep into the paths
of virtue and piety, if they infallibly led to favour and
fortune!
If fwearing and profaneness, fcandalous and avowed
lewdness, exceffive gaming and intemperance, were a lit-
tle diſcountenanced in the army, I cannot readily fee
what ill confequences could be apprehended. If gentle-
men of that profeffion were at leall obliged to fome ex-
ternal decorum in their conduct; or even if a profligate
life and character were not a ineans of advancement,
and the appearance of piety a moft infallible hindrance,
it is impoffible the corruptions there ſhould be ſo univer-
fal and exorbitant. I have been aflured by ſeveral great
officers, that no troops abroad are fo ill difciplined as the
English; which cannot well be otherwife, while the
common ſoldiers have perpetually before their eyes, the
vitious example of their leaders; and it is hardly poffible
for thofe to commit any crime, whereof theſe are not in-
finitely more guilty, and with lefs temptation.
It is commonly charged upon the gentlemen of the
army, that the beaftly vice of drinking to excefs hath
been lately, from their example, reftored among us;
which for fome years before was almoft dropt in Eng-
land. But, whoever the introducers were, they have
fucceeded to a miracle; many of the young nobility and
gentry are already become great proficients, and are
under no manner of concern to hide their talent, but
are got beyond all fenfe of fhame, or fear of reproach.
This might foon be remedied, if the Queen would
think fit to declare, that no young perfon of quality
whatſoever, who was notorioufly addicted to that or
any other vice, fhould be capable of her favour, or e-
ven
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION,
215
ven admitted into her prefence; with pofitive command
to her miniſters, and others in great office, to treat them
in the fame manner: after which, all men who had any
regard for their reputation, or any profpect of prefer-
ment, would avoid their commerce. This would quick-
ly make that vice fe fcandalous, that thofe who could
not ſubdue, would at leaſt endeavour to diſguiſe it.
By the like methods a ftop might be put to that ruin-
ous practice of deep gaming: and the reaſon why it pre-
vails fo much, is, becauſe a treatment directly oppofite
in every point is made ufe of to promote it; by which
means the laws enacted againft this abufe are wholly
eluded,
For if
It cannot be denied, that the want of ſtrict difcipline
in the univerſities hath been of pernicious confequence to
the youth of this nation, who are there almost left en-
tirely to their own management, eſpecially thofe among
them of better quality and fortune; who, becauſe they
are not under a neceffity of making learning their main-
tenance, are cafily allowed to pafs their time, and take
their degrees with little or no improvement. Than
which there cannot well be a greater abfurdity.
no advancement of knowledge can be had from thoſe
places, the time there fpent is at beft utterly loft, becauſe
every ornamental part of education is better taught elfe-
where. And as for keeping youths out of harm's way,
I doubt, where fo many of them are got together, at
full liberty of doing what they pleafe, it will not anſwer
the end. But whatever abute, corruptions, or devia-
tions from ftatutes have crept into the univerfities through
neglect, or length of time, they might in a great degree.
be reformed, by flrict injunctions from court (upon each
particular) to the visitors and heads of houſes; befides
the peculiar authority the Queen may have in feveral
colleges, whereof her predeceffors were the founders,
And among other regulations, it would be very conve-
nient to prevent the excess of drinking, with that fcurvy
cultom among the lads, and parent of the former vice,
the taking of tobacco, where it is not abfolutely neceffary
in point of health.
From the Univerſities the young nobility, and others
of
216
A PROJECT FOR THE
of great fortunes, are fent for early up to town, for fear
of contracting any airs of pedantry by a college-educa-
tion. Many of the younger gentry retire to the inns of
court, where they are wholly left to their own difcre-
tion. And the confequence of their remiflnefs in educa-
tion appears by obferving, that nine in ten of thoſe
who rife in the church or the court, the law or the ar-
my, are younger brothers, or new men, whoſe narrow
fortunes have forced them upon induftry and applica-
tion.
As for the inns of court, unless we fuppofe them to be
much degenerated, they must needs be the worst infti-
tuted feminaries in any Chriſtian country; but whether
they may be corrected without interpofition of the le-
giflature, I have not ſkill enough to determine. However,
it is certain, that all wife nations have agreed in the ne-
ceffity of a ſtrict education; which confifted, among
other things, in the obfervance of moral duties, eſpeci-
ally juftice, temperance, and chastity, as well as the
knowledge of arts, and bodily exercifes. But all theſe
among us are laughed out of doors.
Without the leaft intention to offend the clergy, I
cannot but think, that, through a miſtaken notion and
practice, they prevent themfelves from doing much fer-
vice, which otherwife might lic in their power, to re-
ligion and virtue: I mean, by affecting fo much to con-
verfe with each other, and caring fo little to mingle with
the laity. They have their particular clubs, and par-
ticular coffeeboufes, where they generally appear in cluf-
ters. A ſingle divine dares hardly fhew his perfon a-
mong numbers of fine gentlemen; or if he happens to
fall into fuch company, he is filent and fufpicious, in
continual apprehenfion that fome pert man of pleaſure
ſhould break an unmannerly jeft, and render him ridi-
culous. Now, I take this behaviour of the clergy to be
juſt as reaſonable, as if the phyficians fhould agree to
Ipend their time in vifiting one another, or their feveral
apothecaries, and leave their patients to fhift for them-
felves. In my humble opinion, the clergy's buſineſs
lies entirely among the laity neither is there perhaps
a more effectual way to forward the falvation of men's
fouls, than for fpiritual perfons to make themfelves as
agreeable
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
217
agreeble as they can in the converfations of the world;
for which a learned education gives them great advan
tage, if they would pleaſe to improve and apply it. It
ſo happens, that the men of pleaſure, who never go to
church, nor ufe themfelves to read books of devotion,
form their ideas of the clergy, from a few poor ftrollers
they often obferve in the ſtreets, or ſneaking out of fome
perſon of quality's houfe, where they are hired by the
lady at ten fhillings a-month: while thofe of better fi-
gure and parts do feldom appear to correct theſe no-
tions. And let fome reafoners think what they pleafe,
it is certain, that men must be brought to esteem and
love the clergy, before they can be perfuaded to be in
love with religion. No man values the beſt medicine,
if adminiſtered by a phyſician, whoſe perſon he hates or
defpifes. If the clergy were as forward to appear in all
companies, as other gentlemen, and would a little study
the arts of converfation, to make themſelves agreeable,
they might be welcome to every party, where there
was the leaft regard for politeness or good fenfe; and
confequently prevent a thouſand vitious or profane dif-
courſes, as well as actions: neither would men of under-
ftanding complain, that a clergyman was a conſtraint up-
on the company, because they could not ſpeak blafphc-
my or obscene jelts before him. While the people are
fo jealous of the clergy's ambition, as to abhor all thoughts
of the return of ecclefiaftic difcipline among them, I do
not fee any other method left for men of that function
to take, in order to reform the world, than by uſing ali
honeſt arts to make themſelves acceptable to the laity.
'This, no doubt, is part of that wifdom of the ferpent,
which the author of Chriftianity directs; and is the
very method used by St. Paul, who became all th`ngs to
all men, to the Jews a Jew,and a Greek to the Greeks.
How to remedy thefe inconveniences, may be a mat-
ter of fome difficulty; fince the clergy feem to be of an
opinion, that this humour of fequettering themselves is
a part of their duty; nay, as I remember, they have
been told fo by fome of their bifhops in their pastoral
letters, particularly by one || among them of great merit
VOL. I.
L
Suppofed to be Dr. Burnet, Biſhop of Saliſbury,
and
218
A PROJECT FOR THE
and diſtinction; who yet, in his own practice, hath all
his life-time taken a courſe directly contrary.
But I am
deceived, if an awkward fhame, and fear of ill ufage
from the laity, have not a greater fhare in this miſtaken
conduct, than their own inclinations. However, if the
outward profeffion of religion and virtue were once in
practice and countenance at court, as well as among all
men in office, or who have any hopes or dependence for
preferment, a good treatment of the clergy would be the
neceffary confequence of fuch a reformation; and they
would foon be wife enough to fee their own duty and in-
tereft, in qualifying themselves for lay converſation, when
once they were out of fear of being choked by ribaldry
or profaneness.
4
There is one further circumftance upon this occafion,
which I know not whether it will be very orthodox to
mention. The clergy are the only fet of men among
us, who conſtantly wear a diſtinct habit from others: the
confequeuce of which (not in reafon, but in fact) is this,
that as long as any fcandalous perfons appear in that
drefs, it will continue, in fome degree, a general mark
of contempt. Whoever happens to fee a coundrel ir a
gown, recling home at midnight, (a fight neither frequent
or miraculous,) is apt to entertain an ill idea of the whole
order, and at the fame time to be extremely comforted
in his own vices. Some remedy might be put to this,
if thoſe fraggling gentlemen, who come up to town to
frek their fortunes, were fairly difmiffed to the West-In-
dies; where there is work enough, and where fome
better provifion fhould be made for them, than I doubt
there is at prefent. Or, what if no perfon were al-
lowed to wear the habit, who had not fome preferment
in the church, or at leaſt ſome temporal fortune fuffici-
ent to keep him out of contempt ? though, in my opi-
nion, it were infinitely better, if all the clergy (except
the bishops) were permitted to appear like other men of
the graver fort, unless at thofe feafons when they are
doing the bufinefs of their function:
There is one abufe in this town, which wonderfully
contributes to the promotion of vice; that fuch men
are often put into the commiffion of the peace, whoſe
intereft
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
219
intereft it is, that virtue ſhould be utterly baniſhed from
among us; who maintain, or at leaſt enrich themſelves
by encouraging the groffeft immoralities; to whom all
the bawds of the ward pay contribution for fhelter and
protection from the laws. Thus thefe worthy magi-
ftrates, inſtead of leffening enormities, are the occafion
of juſt twice as much debauchery as there would be
without them. For thofe infamous women are forced
upon doubling their work and induftry, to anſwer dou-
ble charges, of paying the juſtice, and fupporting them-
felves; like thieves who eſcape the gallows, and are let
out to fteal, in order to diſcharge the gaoler's fees.
It is not to be queftioned, but the Queen and mini-
fry might easily redrefs this abominable grievance, by
enlarging the number of justices of the peace, by endea
vouring to chufe men of virtuous principles, by admit-
ting none who have not confiderable fortunes; perhaps,
by receiving into the number fome of the most eminent
clergy: then, by forcing all of them, upon ſevere pe-
nalties, to act when there is occafion, and not permit-
ting any who are offered to refuſe the commiffion. But
in theſe two laſt cafes, which are very material, I doubt
there will be need of the legislature.
The reformation of the ftage is entirely in the power
of the Queen; and in the confequences it hath upon the
minds of young people, doth very well deferve the
ftrictest care. Befides the indecent and profane paf-
fages; beſides the perpetual turning into ridicule the
very function of the priesthood, with other irregulari-
ties, in most modern comedies, which have been often
objected to them; it is worth obferving the distributive
juſtice of the authors, which is conftantly applied to the
punishment of virtue, and the reward of vice; directly
oppofite to the rules of their beſt critics, as well as to
the practice of dramatic poets in all other ages and
countries. For example, a country-'fquire, who is re-
preſented with no other vice but that of being a clown,
and having the provincial accent upon his tongue,
which is neither a fault, nor in his power to remedy,
muſt be condemned to marry a caft wench, or a crack-
ed chambermaid. On the other fide, a rake-hell of the
L 2
town,
220
A PROJECT FOR THE
town, whofe character is fet off with no other accom-
pliſhment but exceffive prodigality, profaneneſs, intem-
perance, and luft, is rewarded with a lady of great for-
tune to repair his own, which his vices had almoſt ruin-
ed. And as, in a tragedy, the hero is reprefented to
have obtained many victories, in order to raiſe his cha-
racter in the minds of the fpectators; fo the hero of a
comedy is reprefented to have been victorious in all his
intrigues, for the fame reafon. I do not remember,
that our English poets ever fuffered a criminal amour to
fucceed upon the ſtage, till the reign of King Charles II.
Ever fince that time, the alderman is made a cuckold,
the deluded virgin is debauched, and adultery and for-
nication are fuppofed to be committed behind the ſcenes,
as part of the action. Thefe, and many more corrup-
tions of the theatre, peculiar to our age and nation, need
continue no longer, than while the court is content to
connive at or neglect them. Surely a penfion would
not be ill employed on fome men of wit, learning, and
virtue, who might have power to ftrike out every offen-
five or unbecoming paffage from plays already written,
as well as thofe that may be offered to the ftage for the
future. By which, and other wife regulations, the
theatre night become a very innocent and uſeful diver-
fion, inſtead of being.a fcandal and reproach to our re-
ligion and country.
The propofals I have hitherto made for the advance-
ment of religion and morality, are fuch as come with-
in the reach of the adminiſtration; fuch as a pious active
prince, with a fteddy refolution, might foon bring to
effect. Neither am I aware of any objections to be
raiſed againſt what I have advanced; unless it fhould be
thought, that the making religion a neceffary step to
intereſt and favour, might increaſe hypocrify among us:
and I readily believe it would. But if one in twenty
fhould be brought over to true piety, by this or the
like methods, and the other nineteen be only hypocrites,
the advantage would ſtill be great Befides, hypocri-
fy is much more eligible, than open infidelity and vice:
it wears the livery of religion; it acknowleges her
authority, and is cautious of giving ſcandal. Nay, a
long continued difguife is too great a constraint upon
human
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
227
human nature, eſpecially an Engliſh difpofition. Men
would leave off their vices out of mere wearineſs, rather
than undergo the toil and hazard, and perhaps the ex-
pence, of practising them perpetually in private. And I
believe it is often with religion as it is with love; which,
by much diffembling, at laft grows real.
All other projects to this great end have proved hither-
to ineffectual. Laws againſt immorality have not been
executed; and proclamations occafionally iffued out to
inforce them, are wholly unregarded, as things of form.
Religious focieties, though begun with excellent inten-
tion, and by perfons of true piety, are faid, I know not
whether truly or no, to have dwindled into factious clubs,
and grown a trade to enrich little knaviflì informers of
the meanest rank, fuch as common conftables, and broken
fhopkeepers.
And that ſome effectual attempt fhould be made to-
ward fuch a reformation, is perhaps more neceffary than
people commonly apprehend; becauſe the ruin of a ſtate
is generally preceded by an univerfal degeneracy of man-
ners, and contempt of religion; which is entirely our
cafe at preſent.
Diis te minorem quod geris, imperas. Hor.
Neither is this a matter to be deferred, till a more con-
venient time of peace and leifure. A reformation in
men's faith and morals, is the beft natural, as well as re-
ligious means, to bring the war to a good concluſion :
becauſe, if men in truft performed their duty for con-
fcience fake, affairs would not fuffer through fraud, falfe-
hood, and neglect, as they now perpetually do. And
if they believed a God, and his providence, and acted
accordingly, they might reaſonably hope for his divine
afliſtance in ſo juſt a cauſe as ours.
Nor could the majefty of the English.crown appear,
upon any occafion, in greater luftre, either to foreign-
ers or fubjects, than by an adminiftration, which, produc-
ing fuch great effects, would difcover fo much power.
And power being the natural appetite of princes, a li-
mited monarch cannot fo well gratify it in any thing, as
a ftrict execution of the laws.
Befides, all parties would be obliged to cloſe with fo
good
222
A PROJECT FOR THE
good a work as this, for their own reputation. Neither
is any expedient more likely to unite them. For the moft
violent partymen I have ever obferved, are fuch as, in
the conduct of their lives, have difcovered leaft fenfe of
religion and morality; and when all fuch are laid aſide,
at leaſt thofe among them who fhall be found incorrigi-
ble, it will be a matter perhaps of no great difficulty to
reconcile the reſt.
The many corruptions at prefent in every branch of
bufinefs, are almoft inconceivable. I have heard it com-
puted by ſkilful perfons, that of fix millions raiſed every
year for the fervice of the public, one third, at leaſt,
is funk and intercepted through the feveral claffes and
fubordinations of artful men in office, before the re-
mainder is applied to the proper ufe. This is an acci-
dental ill effect of our freedom. And while fuch men
are in truſt, who have no check from within, nor any
views but towards their intereft, there is no other fence
against them, but the certainty of being hanged upon
the firſt diſcovery, by the arbitrary will of an unlimited
monarch, or his vizier Among us the only danger
to be apprehended, is the lofs of an employment; and
that danger is to be eluded a thoufand ways. Befides,
when fraud is great, it furnishes weapons to defend it-
felf: and, at worft, if the crimes be fo flagrant, that
a man is laid afide out of perfect ſhame, (which rarely
happens,) he retires loaded with the ſpoils of the nation
et fruitur diis iratis. I could name a commiffion, where
feveral perfons, out of a falary of five hundred pounds,
without other vifible revenues, have always lived at
the rate of two thouſand, and laid out forty or fifty
thouſand upon purchaſes of land or annuitics. An hun-
dred other inftances of the fame kind might eaſily be
produced. What remedy therefore can be found against
Tuch grievances in a conftitution like ours, but to bring
religion into countenance, and encourage thofe, who,
from the hope of future reward, and dread of future
punishment, will be moved to act with juſtice and inte-
grity?
This is not to be accomplished any other way, than by
introducing religion as much as poffible to be the turn
and fashion of the age; which only lies in the
power
of
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
223
of the adminiſtration; the prince with utmoſt ſtrictneſs
regulating the court, the miniftry, and other perfons in
great employment; and thefe, by their example and au-
thority, reforming all who have dependence on them.
It is certain, that a reformation fuccefsfully carried on
in this great town, would, in time, ſpread itſelf over the
whole kingdom; fince most of the confiderable youth
paſs here that feafon of their lives, wherein the ſtrongeſt
impreffions are made, in order to improve their educa-
tion, or advance their fortune; and thofe among them
who return into their feveral countries, are fure to be fol-
lowed and imitated, as the greateſt patterns of wit and
good-breeding.
And if things were once in this train; that is, if vir-
tue and religion were established as the neceffary titles
to reputation and preferment, and if vice and infidelity
were not only loaden with infamy, but made the infalli
ble ruin of all men's pretenfions ;. out duty, by becoming
our intereft, would take root in our natures, and mix
with the very genius of our people; fo that it would not
be eafy for the example of one wicked prince to bring
us back to our former corruptions.
I have confined myſelf (as it is before obferved) to
thofe methods for the advancement of piety, which are.
in the power of a prince limited like ours, by a strict exc-
cution of the laws already in force. And this is enough
for a project that comes without any naine or recommen-
dation; I doubt a great deal more, than will be fud-
denly reduced into practice. Though, if any difpofi-
tion fhould appear towards fo good a work, it is certain,
that the affiſtance of the legiſlative power would be ne-
ceffary to make it more complete. I will inftance only
a few particulars.
In order to reform the vices of this town, which, as
we have faid, hath fo mighty an influence on the whole
kingdoin, it would be very inftrumental to have a law
made, that all taverns and alehouſes ſhould be obliged
to difmifs their company by twelve at night, and ſhut
up their doors; and that no woman ſhould be fuffered-
to enter any tavern or alehoufe upon any pretence what-
foever. It is eafy to conceive, what a number of ill
confequences fuch a law would prevent.; the mif-
chicfa
224
A PROJECT FOR THE
chiefs of quarrels, and lewdness, and thefts, and mid-
night-brawls, the difeafes of intemperance and venery
and a thouſand other evils needlefs to mention. Nor
would it be amifs, if the mafters of thoſe public houſes
were obliged, upon the fevereft penalties, to give only a
proportioned quanity of drink to every company; and
when he found his guests difordered with excels, to re-
fuſe them any more.
I believe there is hardly a nation in Chriftendom,
where all kind of fraud is practifed in fo unmeaſurable a
degree as with us. The lawyer, the tradefman, the
mechanic, have found fo many arts to deceive in their
feveral callings, that they far outgrow the common pru-
dence of mankind, which is in no fort able to fence againſt
them. Neither could the legislature in any thing more
confult the public good, than by providing fome effec-
tual remedy againſt this evil; which in feveral cafes de-
ferves greater punishment, than many crimes that are
capital among us. The vintner, who, by mixing poi-
fon with his wine, deftroys more lives than any malig-
nant difeafe; the lawyer, who perfuades you to a pur-
chafe, which he knows is mortgaged for more than the
worth, to the ruin of you and your family; the banker
or fcrivener, who takes all your fortune, to diſpoſe of,
when he has beforehand refolved to break the following
day, do furely deferve the gallows much better than the
wretch who is carried there for ſtealing a horfe.
It cannot easily be answered to God or man, why a
law is not made for limiting the prefs; at leaſt ſo far as
to prevent the publishing of fuch pernicious books, as,
under pretence of free-thinking, endeavour to over-
throw thoſe tenets in religion, which have been held in-
violable almoſt in all ages, by every fect that pretends
to be Chriſtian; and cannot therefore, with any colour
of reafon, be called points in controverfy, or matters of
Speculation, as fome would pretend. The doctrine of
the Trintty, the divinity of Chrift, the immortality of the
foul, and even the truth of all revelation, are daily ex-
ploded and denied in books openly printed; though it is
to be fuppofed, neither party avow fuch principles,
**
* Neither Whig nor Tory. Harvkes.
ΟΙ
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
225
+
or own the fupporting of them to be any way neceffary
to their fervice.
It would be endleſs to fet down every corruption or
defect which requires a remedy from the legislative
power. Senates are like to have little regard for any
propofals that come from without doors; though, under
a due fenfe of my own inabilities, I am fully convinced,
that the unbiaffed thoughts of an honeſt and wife man,
employed on the good of his country, may be better di-
gefted, than the refults of a multitude, where faction and
interest too often prevail; as a fingle guide may direct
the way, better than five hundred who have contrary
views, or look afquint, or fout their eyes.
I fhall thereforetore mention but one more particular,
which I think the parliament ought to take under con-
fideration; whether it be not a fhame to our country,
and a ſcandal to Chriftianity, that in many towns, where
there is a prodigious increaſe in the number of houſes
and inhabitants, fo little care fhall be taken for the
building of churches, that five parts in fix of the people
are abfolutely hindered from hearing divine fervice?
particularly here in London, ‡ where a fingle minifter,
with one or two forry curates, hath the care fometimes
of above twenty thousand fouls incumbent on him. A
neglect of religion fo ignominious, in my opinion,
that it can hardly be equalled in any civilized age or
country.
But, to leave theſe airy imaginations of introducing
new laws for the amendment of mankind; what I prin-
cipally infilt on, is a due execution of the old, which lies
wholly in the crown, and in the authority derived from
thence. I return therefore to my former affertion, That
if ſtations of power, truft, profit, and honour, were
conftantly made the rewards of virtue and piety, ſuch
an adminiftration must needs have a mighty influence
on the faith and mortals of the whole kingdom and
men of great abilities would then endeavour to excel in
the duties of a religious life, in order to qualify them-
felves
L 5
This paragraph is known te have given the firſt hint to certain
Bishops, particularly to Bishop Atterbury, in the Earl of Oxford's
ministry, to procure a fund for building fifty new churches in Lon-
don.
226
A PROJECT FOR THE
felves for public fervice. I may poffibly be wrong in
fome of the means I prefcribe towards this end; but
that is nó material objection against the defign itſelf.
Let those who are at the helm contrive it better, which
perhaps they may eaſily do. Every body will agree, that
the diſeaſe is manifeft, as well as dangerous; that fome
remedy is neceffary, and that none yet applied hath been.
effectual; which is a fufficient excufe for any man who
wiſhes well to his country, to offer his thoughts, when
he can have no other end in view but the public good,
The prefent Queen is a princefs of as many and great
virtues as ever filled a throne: how would it brighten
her character to the preſent and after ages, if fhe would
exert her utmoſt authority to inftil fome ſhare of thoſe
virtues into her people, which they are too degenerate
to learn only from her example? and, be it ſpoke with
all the veneration poffible for fo excellent a fovereign,
her beſt endeavours in this weighty affair are a moſt im-
portant part of her duty, as well as of her intereſt, and
her honour.
But it muſt be confeffed, that, as things are now, every
man thinks he has laid in a fufficient ſtock of merit, and
may pretend to any employment, provided he hath been
loud and frequent in declaring himſelf hearty for the go-
vernment, It is true, he is a man of pleasure, a free-
thinker; that is, in other words, he is profligate in his
morals, and a defpifer of religion; but in point of party,
he is one to be confided in; he is an afferter of liberty
and property; he rattles it out against Popery and arbi-
trary power, and prieftcraft and high-church. It is e-
nough he is a perfon fully qualified for any employ-
inent in the court or the navy, the law or the revenue ;
where he will be fure to leave no arts untried of bribery,
fraud, injuftice, or oppreflion, that he can practiſe with
any hope of impunity. No wonder fuch men are trua
to a government, where liberty runs high, where pro-
perty, however attained, is fo well fecured, and where the
adminiftration is at leaft fo gentle it is impoffible they
could chuſe any other conftitution, whichout changing
to their lofs.
Fidelity to a prefent eſtabliſhment is indeed the prin-
cipal means to defend it from a foreign enemy; but
without
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
227
without other qualifications, will not prevent corruptions.
from within; and ſtates are more often ruined by theſe
than the other.
To conclude: Whether the propoſals I have offered
towards a reformation, be ſuch as are moſt prudent and
convenient, may probably be a queftion: but it is none
at all, whether fome reformation be abſolutely neceflary:
becauſe the nature of things is fuch, that if abuſes be
not remedied, they will certainly increaſe, nor ever ſtop
As
till they end in a fubverfion of a commonwealth.
there must always of neceffity be fome corruptions, fo, in
a well-inftituted ftate, the executive power will be always
contending againſt them, by reducing things (as Machia-
vel fpeaks) to their first principles, never letting abufes
grow inveterate, or multiply fo far that it will be hard to
find remedies, and perhaps impoffible to apply them.
As he that would keep his houſe in repair, muſt attend
every little breach or flaw, and fupply it immediately,
elfe time alone will bring all to ruin; how much more
the common accidents of ftorms and rain? He must live
in perpetual danger of his houfe falling about his ears;
and will find it cheaper to throw it quite down, and
build it again from the ground, perhaps upon a new
foundation, or at leaſt in a new form, which may neis
ther be fo fafe, nor fo convenient as the old.
The
[228]
The SENTIMENTS of a CHURCH-OF-ENG-
LAND MAN with refpect to RELIGION
and GOVERNMENT. †
WE
Written in the year 1708.
HOEVER hath examined the conduct and
proceedings of both parties for fome years paft,
whether in or out of power, cannot well conceive it
poffible to go far towards the extremes of either, with-
out offering fome violence to his integrity or under-
flanding. A wife and a good man may indeed be fome-
times induced to comply with a number, whofe opinion
he generally approves, though it be perhaps againſt
his own. But this liberty fhould be made uſe of
upon very few occafions, and thofe of fmall import-
ance,
This piece is adapted to that particular period in which it was
written. The style of the whole pamphlet is nervous, and, except
in fome few places, impartial. The fate of Holland is juſtly, and,
at the fame time, concifely delineated. This tract is very well worth
one's reading and attention: and it confirms an obfervation which
will perpetually occur, that Swift cxcels in whatever ftyle or manner
he affumes. When he is in earnest, his ftrength of reafon carries
with it conviction; when in jeft, every competitor in the race of
wit is left behind him. Orrery.
This picce feemeth to have been one of Swift's projects for unit-
ing of parties, and written with a defign to check that rage and vio-
lence, which fubfifted in thoſe times between the contending facti-
ons of Whig and Tory; and perhaps to recommend, in the place of
that abominable rancour and malice, which had broken all the laws
of charity and hoſpitality among human kind, thofe candid falutary
principles, with reſpect to religion and government, which, if right-
ly comprehended and vigorously purfued, might certainly preferve
the whole conftitution, both of church and fate, for ten thouſand
generations. Swift.
This appears to be an apology for the Tories, and a juftification
of them against the mifreprefentations of the Whigs, who were then
in the ministry, and ufed every artifice to perpetuate their power.
Mr. Harley, afterwards Lord Oxford, had, by the influence of the
Duke of Marlborough and Lord Treaſurer Godolphin, been lately
removed from his poft of Principal Secretary of State; and Mr. St.
John, afterwards Lord Bolingbroke, refigned his place of Secretary at
ar, and Sir Simon Harcourt that of Attorney General. Hazuk‹f..
THE SENTIMENTS, &..
229
ance, and then only with a view of bringing over his
own fide another time to fomething of great and more
public moment. But to facrifice the innocency of a
friend, the good of our country, or our own confcience,
to the humour or paffion, or intereſt of a party, plainly
fhews, that either our heads or our hearts are not as they
should be.. Yet this very practice is the very funda-
mental law of each faction among us; as may be obvi-
ous to any, who will impartially, and without engage-
ment, be at the pains to examine their actions: which
however is not ſo eaſy a taſk; for it feems a principle in
human nature, to incline one way more than another,
even in matters where we are wholly unconcerned.
And it is a common obfervation, that in reading a hif
of facts done a thousand years ago, or ftanding by
at play among thoſe who are perfect ftrangers to us, we
are apt to find our hopes and wifhes engaged on a fudden
in favour of one fide more than another. No wonder
then that we are all fo ready to intereft ourſelves in the
courfe of public affairs, where the moft inconfiderable
have fome real fhare, and, by the wonderful importance
which every man is of to himſelf, a very great imaginary
tory
one.
And indeed, when the two parties that divide the
whole commonwealth, come once to a rupture, with-
out any hopes left of forming a third with better prin-
ciples, to balance the others, it feems every man's duty
to chufe one of the two fides, though he cannot entirely
approve of either; and all pretences to neutrality are
justly exploded by both, being too ftale and obvious;
only intending the fafety and eaſe of a few individuals,
while the public is embroiled. This was the opinion
and practice of the latter Cato, whom I efteem to
have been the wifeſt and beſt of all the Romans. * But
before things proceed to open violence, the trueft fer-
vice a private man may hope to do his country, is by
unbiafling his mind as much as poffible, and then endea-
vouring to moderate
moderate between the rival powers;
which muſt needs be owned a fair proceeding with the
world; becauſe it is of all others the leaſt confiſtent with
the
* One of the fextumvirate in Gulliver, part 3. chap. 7. vol. 4.
P. 187.
230
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
}
the common deſign of making a fortune by the merit of
an opinion.
I have gone as far as I am able in qualifying myſelf:
to be fuch a moderator. I believe I am no bigot in re-
ligion, and I am fure I am none in government. I'con-
verfe in full freedom with many confiderable men of
both parties; and if not in equal number, it is purely
accidental and perfonal, as happening to be near the
court, and to have made acquaintance there, more under
one miniftry than another. Then I am not under the
neceffity of declaring myfelf by the proſpect of an em-
ployment.. And, laftly, if all this be not fufficient I in-
duftriouſly conceal my name, which wholly exempts me
from any hopes and fears in delivering my opinion.
In confequence of this free uſe of my reaſon, I can-
not poffibly think. fo well or fo ill of either party, as
they would endeavour to perſuade the world of each o-
ther, and of themſelves.. For inſtance, I do not charge
it upon, the body of the Whigs or the Tories, that their
feveral principles lead them to introduce Prefbytery, and
the religion of the church of Rome, or a common-
wealth, and arbitrary power. For why fhould any par-
ty be accuſed of a principle, which they folemnly dif
own and proteſt againſt ? But to this they have a mu-
tual anſwer ready: they both affure us, that their ad-
verfaries are not to be believed; that they diſown their
principles out of fear, which are manifelt enough, when
we examine their practices. To prove this, they will
produce inftances, on one fide, either of avowed Pref-
byterians, or perfons of libertine and atheistical tenets
and on the other, of profeffed Papifts, or fuch as are
openly in the intereft of the abdicated family. Now, it:
is very natural for all fubordinate fects and denominati-
ons in a ſtate, to fide with fome general party, and to
chufe that which they find to agree with themſelves in.
fome general principle. Thus, at the restoration, the Pref
byterians, Anabaptifts, Independents, and other fects,
did all, with very good reafon, unite and folder up their.
ſeveral ſchemes to join against the church; who, without.
regard to their diftinctions, treated them all as equal ad-.
verfaries. Thus our prefent diffenters do very naturally
cloſe in with the Whigs, who profefs moderation, declare
they
1
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
231
they abhor all thoughts of perfecution, and think it hard,
that thoſe who differ only in a few ceremonies and ſpecu-
lations, fhould be denied the privilege and profit of ferv-
ing their country in the higheft employments of ſtate.
Thus, the Atheiſts, libertines, defpifers of religion and
revelation in general; that is to fay, all thofe who ufual-
ly pass under the name of Freethinkers, do properly join
with the fame body; becauſe they likewife preach up
moderation, and are not fo over-nice to diftinguiſh be-
tween an unlimited liberty of confcience, and an unli-
mited freedom of opinion. Then, on the other fide,
the profeffed firmness of the Tories for Epiſcopacy, as an
apoftolical inftitution; their averfion to thofe fects who
lie under the reproach of having once deftroyed their
conſtitution, and who, they imagine, by too indifcreet
a zeal for reformation, have defaced the primitive mo-
del of the church; next, their moderation for monar-
chical government in the common courfe of fucceffion,
and their hatred to republican ſchemes: theſe, I ſay,
are principles which not only the nonjuring zealots pro-
fefs, but even papifts themfelves fall readily in with. And
every extreme here mentioned, flings a general ſcandal
upon the whole body it pretends to adhere to.
But furely no man whatſoever ought, in juſtice or good
manners, to be charged with principles he actually dif-
owns, unleſs his practices do openly, and without the
leaſt room for doubt, contradict his profeffion; not upon
fmall furmifes, or becauſe he has the misfortune to have
ill men fometimes agree with him in a few general ſen-
timents. However, though the extremes of W’big and
Tory feem, with little juſtice, to have drawn religion in-
to their controverfies, wherein they have fmall concern;
yet they both have borrowed one leading principle from
the abuſe of it; which is, to have built their feveral fyf-
tems of political faith, not upon inquiries after truth,
but upon oppofition to each other; upon injurious ap-
pellations, charging their adverſaries with horrid opini-
ons, and then reproaching them for the want of charity;
et neuter faljo.
In order to remove theſe prejudices, I have thought
nothing could be more effectual, than to defcribe the
fentinents of a church-of-England man with refpect to
religion
232
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
religion and government. This I fhall endeavour to do in
fuch a manner, as may not be liable to the leaft objection
from either party, and which I am confident would be
affented to by great numbers in both, if they were not
miflead to thofe mutual misreprefentations, by fuch mo-
tives as they would be ashamed to own.
I fhall begin with religion.
And here, though it makes an odd found, yet it is ne-
ceffary to fay, that whoever profeffeth himfelf a member
of the church of England, ought to believe a God, and
his providence, together with revealed religion, and the
divinity of Chrift. For befides thofe many thouſands,
who (to ſpeak in the phraſe of divines) do practically
deny all this by the immorality of their lives, there is no
ſmall number, who, in their converfation and writings,
directly, or by confequence, endeavour to overthrow it:
yet all theſe place themſelves in the liſt of the national
church, though at the fame time (as it is highly reafon-
able) they are great sticklers for liberty of confcience.
To enter upon particulars: A church-of England man
has a true veneration for the fcheme eltabliſhed among
us of ecclefiaftic government; and though he will not
determine whether Epifcopacy be of divine right, he is
fure it is moft agreeable to primitive inftitution; fitteft of
all others for preferving order and purity, and, under its
prefent regulations, belt calculated for our civil ſtate :
he fhould therefore think the abolishment of that order
among us, would prove a mighty ſcandal and corruption
to our faith, and manifeftly dangerous to our monar-
chy; nay, he would defend it by arms against all the
powers on earth, except our own legiflature; in which
cafe he would fubmit as to a general calamity, a dearth
or a pestilence.
As to rites and ceremonies, and forms of prayer, he
allows there might be fome ufeful alterations; and more,
which in the profpect of uniting Chriftians might be ve-
ry fupportable, as things declared in their own nature
indifferent; to which he would therefore readily com-
ply, if the clergy, or (though this be not fo fair a me-
thod) if the legislature fhould direct: yet at the fame
time
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
233
time he cannot altogether blame the former for their
unwillingness to confent to any alteration; which, be-
ide the trouble, and perhaps difgrace, would certainly
never produce the good effects intended by it. The
only condition that could make it prudent and juft for
the clergy to comply in altering the ceremonial, or any
other indifferent part, would be a firm refolution in the
legiſlature to interpofe, by fome ftrict and effectual
laws, to prevent the rifing and ſpreading of new fects,
how plaufible foever, for the future; elfe there muſt
never be an end: and it would be to act like a man,
who ſhould pull down and change the ornaments of his
houfe, in compliance with every one who was difpofed
find fault as he paffed by; which, befides the perpetual
trouble and expence, would very much damage, and
perhaps in time deftroy the building. Sects in a ſtate
feem only tolerated with any reafon, becauſe they are
already ſpread; and becauſe it would not be agreeable
with fo mild a government, or fo pure a religion as
ours, to uſe violent methods againſt great numbers of
miflaken people, while they do not manifeftly endanger
the conftitution of either. But the greatest advocates
for general liberty of confcience will allow, that they
ought to be checked in their beginnings, if they will
allow them to be an evil at all, or, which is the fame
thing, if they will only grant it were better for the
peace of the ftate, that there should be none. But
while the clergy confider the natural temper of man-
kind in general, or of our own country in particular,
what affurances can they have, that any compliances
they fhall make, will remove the evil of diffention, while
the liberty ftill continues of profeffing whatever new opi-
nions we pleaſe? Or how can it be imagined, that the
body of diffenting teachers, who must be all undone by
fuch a revolution, will not caft about for fome new ob-
jections to with-hold their flocks, and draw in freſh pro-
felytes by fome further innovations or refinements?
Upon theſe reaſons he is for tolerating fuch different
forms in religious worship as are already admitted; but
by no means for leaving it in the power of those who
are tolerated, to advance their own models upon the
ruin of what is already cftablished; which it is natural
for
ર
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
234
for all fects to defire, and which they cannot be juſtified
by any confiftent principles, if they do not endeavour
and yet which they cannot fucceed in, without the ut-
moſt danger to the public peace.
To prevent theſe inconveniencies, he thinks it highly
juft, that all rewards of truft, profit, or dignity, which
the ftate leaves in the difpofal of the adminiſtration,
fhould be given only to thofe whofe principles direct
them to preſerve the conſtitution in all its parts. In the
late affair of occafional conformity, the general argument
of thoſe who were againſt it, was not, to deny it an evil
in itſelf, but that the remedy propofed was violent, un-
timely, and improper; which is the Biſhop of Saliſbury's*
opinion, in the fpeech he made and publiſhed againſt
the bill. But however juft their fears or complaints
might have been upon that ſcore, he thinks it a little too
grofs and precipitate, to employ their writers already in
arguments for repealing the facramental. teft, upon no
wifer a maxim, than that no man fhould, on the acs
count of confcience, be deprived the liberty of ferving
his country; a topic which may be equally applied to
admit Papifts, Atheiſts, Mabometans, Heathens, and Jews.
If the church wants members of its own to employ in
the fervice of the public, or be fo unhappily contrived,
as to exclude from its communion fuch perfons who are
likelieft to have great abilities, it is time it ſhould be al-
tered, and reduced into fome more perfect, or at leaſt
more popular form: but in the mean while it is not al-
together improbable, that when thoſe who diflike the
conftitution, are fo very zealous in their offers for the
ſervice of their country, they are not wholly unmindful
of their party, or of themſelves.
The Dutch, whofe practice is fo often quoted to
prove and celebrate the great advantages of a general
liberty of confcience, have yet a national religion pro-
feffed by all who bear office among them. But why
ſhould they be a precedent for us, either in religion or
government? Our country differs from theirs, as well in
fituation, foil, and productions of nature, as in the ge-
nius and complexion of inhabitants. They are a com-
monwealth founded on a fudden, by a defperate at-
tempt,
* Dr. Burnet,
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
235
tempt, in a defperate condition; not formed or digefted
into a regular fyftem by mature thought and reaſon,
but huddled up under the preffure of fudden exigencies;
calculated for no long duration, and hitherto fubfifting
by accident in the midſt of contending powers, who
cannot yet agree about ſharing it amongst them. Theſe
difficulties do indeed preſerve them from any great cor-
ruptions, which their crazy conftitution would extreme-
ly fubject them to in a long peace. That confluence of
people in a perfecuting age to a place of refuge neareſt at
hand, put them upon the neceffity of trade, to which
they wifely gave all cafe and encouragement. And if we
could think fit to imitate them in this laft particular,
there would need no more to invite foreigners among us;
who feem to think no farther than how to fecure their
property and confcience, without projecting any ſhare in
that government which gives them protection, or call-
ing it perfecution, if it be denied them. But I fpeak it
for the honour of our adminiſtration, that although our
fects are not ſo numerous as thofe in Holland, which I
preſume is not our fault, and I hope is not our misfor-
tune, we much excel them, and all Christendom befides,
in our indulgence to tender conſciences. * One fingle
compliance with the national form of receiving the fa-
crament, is all we require to qualify any fectary among
us for the greatest employments in the ftate; after which
he is at liberty to rejoin his own affemblies for the rest
of his life. Befides, I will fuppofe any of the numerous
fects in Holland to have fo far prevailed, as to have raif-
ed a civil war, deftroyed their government and religion,
and put their adminiftrators to death; after which I
will fuppofe the people to have recovered all again, and
to have fettled on their old foundation. Then I would
put a query, whether that feet which was the unhappy
inftrument of all this confufion, could reaſonably expect
to be intrufted for the future with the greateſt employ-
ments, or indeed to be hardly tolerated among them?
To go on with the fentiments of a church-of-England
man :
* When this was written, there was no law against occafional
conformity.
236
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
man: He does not fee how that mighty paffion for the
church, which fome men pretend, can well confiſt with
thoſe indignities and that contempt they beftow on the
perfons of the clergy. It is a ftrange mark whereby to
diftinguiſh high-churchmen, that they are fuch who ina-
gine the clergy can never be too low. He thinks the
maxim theſe gentlemen are fo fond of, that they are for
an humble clergy, is a very good one: and fo is he, and
for an humble laity too; fince humility is a virtue that
perhaps equally befits and adorns every ſtation of life.
But then, if the fcribblers on the other fide freely
fpeak the fentiments of their party, a divine of the
church of England cannot look for much better quarter
from thence. You fhall obſerve nothing more frequent
in their weekly papers, than a way of affecting to con-
found the terms of clergy and high-church, of applying
both indifferently, and then loading the latter with all
the calumny they can invent. They will tell you, they
honour a clergyman; but talk at the fame time, as if
there were not three in the kingdom who could fall in
with their definition. After the like manner they infult
the univerſities, as poiſoned fountains, and corrupters of
youth.
:
Now, it ſeems clear to me, that the Wigs might eaſily
have procured and maintained a majority among the
clergy, and perhaps in the univerfities, if they had not
too much encouraged or connived at this intemperance
of ſpeech and virulence of pen, in the worſt and moſt
proſtitute of their party among whom there hath been,
for fome years paft, fuch a perpetual clamour against
the ambition, the implacable temper, and the cove-
toufneſs of the priesthood; fuch a cant of high-church, and
perfecution, and being priest-ridden; ſo many reproaches
about narrow principles, or terms of communion; then
fuch fcandalous reflections on the univerfities, for infect-
ing the youth of the nation with arbitrary and Jacobite
principles, that it was natural for thoſe who had the
care of religion and education, to apprehend ſome ge-
neral defign of altering the conftitution of both. And
all this was the more extraordinary, becauſe it could
not cafily be forgot, that whatever oppofition was
made
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
237
made to the ufurpations of King James, proceeded alto-
gether from the church of England, and chiefly from
the clergy, and one of the univerfities. For if it were of
any uſe to recal matters of fact, what is more notorious
than that prince's applying himſelf first to the church of
England; and, upon their refufal to fall in with his mea-
fures, making the like advances to the diffenters of all
kinds who readily, and almoft univerfally complied
with him, affecting, in their numerous addreffes and
pamphlets, the ſtyle of our brethren the Roman Catholics;
whofe interests they put on the fame foot with their
own and fome of Cromwell's officers took pofts in the
army raiſed againſt the Prince of Orange. Theſe pro-
ceedings of theirs they can only extenuate by urging the
provocations they had met from the church in King
Charles's reign; which, though perhaps excufable upon
the fcore of human infirinity, are not by any means a
plea of merit equal to the conftancy and fufferings of the
bishops and clergy, or of the head and fellows of Mag-
dalen college, that furniſhed the Prince of Orange's de-
claration with fuch powerful arguments to justify and
promote the revolution.
Therefore a church-uf-England man abhors the humour
of the age, in delighting to fling fcandals upon the cler-
gy in general; which, befides the difgrace to the refor-
mation, and to religion itſelf, caſt an ignominy upon the
kingdom, that it doth not deferve. We have no better
inaterials to compound the priesthood of, than the mafs
of mankind, which, corrupted as it is, thofe who receive
orders must have fome vices to leave behind them when
they enter into the church; and if a few do ſtill adhere,
it is no wonder, but rather a great one, that they are no
worfe. Therefore he cannot think ambition, or love of
power, more juftly laid to their charge, than to other
men; becaufe that would be to make religion itſelf, or
at leaſt the beſt conftitution of church-government, an-
fwerable for the errors and depravity of human nature.
Within theſe laſt two hundred years, all forts of tem-
poral power have been wrefted form the clergy, and
much of their ecclefiaftic: the reaſon or juſtice of which
proceeding I fhall not examine; but that the remedies
were
238
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
were a little too violent, with respect to their pollesions,
the legislature hath lately confeffed by the remiffion of
their firſt-fruits. Neither do the common libellers deny
this; who, in their invectives, only tax the church with
an inſatiable defire of power and wealth, (equally com-
mon to all bodies of men, as well as individuals,) but
thank God, that the laws have deprived them of both.
However, it is worth obferving the juftice of parties.
The fects among us are apt to complain, and think it hard
ufage, to be reproached now, after fifty years, for over-
turning the ſtate, for the murder of a King, and the in-
dignity of an ufurpation; yet theſe very men, and their
partifans, are continually reproaching the clergy, and lay-
in to their charge, the pride, the avarice, the luxury,
the ignorance, and fuperftition of Popish times, for a
thousand years paſt.
He thinks it a fcandal to government, that fuch an
unlimited liberty ſhould be allowed of publiſhing books
againſt thoſe doctrines in religion, wherein all Chriſtians
have agreed; much more to connive at fuch tracts as re-
ject all revelation, and by their confequences often deny
the very being of a God. Surely it is not a fufficient
atonement for the writers, that they profefs much loyal-
ty to the preſent government, and fprinkle up and down
fome arguments in favour of the diffenters; that they dif
pute as ftrenuously as they can, for liberty of confcience,
and inveigh largely against all ecclefiaftics under the
name of high-church; and, in ſhort, under the ſhelter of
fome popular principles in politics and religion, under-
mine the foundations of all piety and virtue.
As he doth not reckon every fchifm of that damnable
nature which fome would reprefent, fo he is very far
from clofing with the new opinion of thoſe who would
make it no crime at ali; and argue at a wild rate, that
God almighty is delighted with the variety of faith and
worſhip, as he is with the varieties of nature. To fuch
abfurdities are men carried by the affectation of free-
thinking, and removing the prejudices of education; under
which head they have for ſome time begun to lift morali-
ty and religion. It is certain, that before the rebellion in
1642, though the number of Puritans (as they were then
called)
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
239
called) was as great as it is with us, and though they af-
fected to follow pafters of that denomination; yet thoſe
paftors had epifcopal ordination, poffeffed preferments.
in the church, and were fometimes promoted to biſhop-
ics themſelves. But a breach in the general form of
worship was, in thoſe days, reckoned fo dangerous and
finful in itſelf, and fo offenfive to Roman Catholics at
home and abroad, that it was too unpopular to be at-
tempted neither, I believe, was the expedient then
found out, of maintaining feparate paftors out of private
puries.
When a fchifm is once ſpread in a nation, there grows
at length a diſpute, which are the fchifmatics. With-
out entering on the arguments ufed by both fides a-
mong us to fix the guilt on each other, it is certain, that,
in the fenfe of the law, the fchifm lies on that fide which
oppofeth itſelf to the religion of the ſtate. I leave it
among the divines to dilate upon the danger of fchifm as
a fpiritual evil; but I would confider it only as a tem-
poral one. And I think it clear, that any great feparati-
on from the eſtabliſhed worſhip, though to a new one
that is more pure and perfect, may be an occafion of en-
dangering the public peace; becauſe it will compoſe a
body always in referve, prepared to follow any difcon-
tented heads, upon the plaufible pretexts of advancing
true religion, and oppofing error, fuperftition, or idola-
try. For this reafon Plato lays it down as a maxim,
That men ought to worship the gods according to the laws
of the country; and he introduces Socrates, in his laft
difcourfe, utterly difowning the crime laid to his charge,
of teaching new divinities, or methods of worſhip.-
Thus the poor Hugonots of France were engaged in a
civil war by the fpecious pretences of fome, who, un-
der the guife of religion, facrificed fo many thouſand
lives to their own ambition and revenge. Thus was
the whole body of Puritans in England drawn to be in-
ftruments or abettors of all manner of villany, by the
artifices of a few men, whoſe deſigns from the firſt were
levelled to deſtroy the conftitution both of religion and
government. And thus, even in Holland itſelf,
where
* Lord Clarendon's hiſtory.
240
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
where it is pretended that the variety of fects live fo
amicably together, and in fuch perfect obedience to the
magiftrate, it is notorious, how a turbulent party joining
with the Arminians, did, in the memory of our fathers,
attempt to deſtroy th. liberty of that republic. So that,
upon the whole, where fects are tolerated in a ſtate, it
fit they fhould enjoy a full liberty of confcience, and
every other privilege of free-born fubjects, to which no
power is annexed. And to preferve their obedience up-
on all emergencies, a government cannot give them too
much eaſe, nor trust them with too little power.
The clergy are ufually charged with a perfecuting Spirit,
which they are faid to diſcover by an implacable hatred
to all diffenters: and this appears to be inore unreaſon-
able, becauſe they fuffer lefs in their interefts by a tole-
ration, than any of the conforming laity; for while the
church remains in its prefent form, no diffenter can poſ-
fibly have any ſhare in its dignities, revenues, or power;
whereas, by once receiving the facrament, he is render-
ed capable of the higheft employments in the ſtate. And
it is very poffible, that a narrow education, together with
a mixture of human infirmity, may help to beget among
fome of the clergy in poffeffion, fuch an averfion and con-
tempt for all innovators, as phyficians are apt to have for
empirics; or lawyers for pettifoggers, or merchants for ped-
lars: but fince the number of fectaries doth not concern
the clergy, either in point of intereft or confcience, (it
being an evil not in their power to remedy,) it is more
fair and reaſonable to fuppofe their diſlike proceeds from
the dangers they apprehend to the peace of the common-
wealth, in the ruin whereof they must expect to be the
firft and greateſt fufferers.
To conclude this fection, it must be obferved, that
there is a very good word, which hath of late fuffered
much by both parties; I mean moderation; which the
one fide very jully difowns, and the other as unjustly
pretends to Befide what paffes every day in converfation,
any man who reads the papers publiſhed by Mr. Lefley,
and others of his ftamp, muft needs conclude, that if
this author could make the nation fee his adverfaries un-
der the colours he paints them in, we have nothing elfe
to
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
241
to do, but riſe as one man, and deſtroy fuch wretches
from the face of the earth. On the other fide, how
fhall we excufe the advocates for moderation? among
whom I could appeal to a hundred papers of univerfal
approbation, by the cauſe they were writ for, which lay
fuch principles to the whole body of the Tories, as, if
they were true, and believed, our next bufinefs fhould, in
prudence, be, to erect gibbets in every parifh, and hang
them out of the way. But I fuppofe it is prefumed, the
common people understand raillery, or at leaft rhetoric;
and will not take hyperboles in too literal a ſenſe; which
however in fome junctures might prove a deſperate expe-
riment. And this is moderation, in the modern fenfe of
the word; to which, fpeaking impartially, the bigots of
both parties are equally intitled.
SECT. II.
The fentiments of a church of England man, with re-
Spect to government.
WE
E look upon it as a very juft reproach, though
we cannot agree where to fix it, that there fhould
be fo much violence and hatred in religious matters a-
mong men who agree in all fundamentals, and only dif-
fer in fome ceremonies, or, at moft, mere fpeculative
points. Yet is not this frequently the cafe between
contending parties in a ftate? For inftance, do not the
generality of Whigs and Tories among us profefs to agree
in the fame fundamentals, their loyalty to the Queen,
their abjuration of the pretender, the fettlement of the
crown in the Proteftant line, and a revolution-prin
ciple their affection to the church eſtabliſhed, with
toleration of diffenters ? Nay, fometimes they go far-
ther, and paſs over into each other's principles; the
Whigs become great afferters of the prerogative, and
the Tories, of the people's liberty; thefe crying down
almoft the whole fet of bifhops, and thofe defending
them: fo that the differences fairly ftated, would be
much of a fort with thofe in religion among us, and a-
mount to little more than, who should take place, or go
VOL. I.
M
ix
242
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
in and out first, or kifs the Queen's band, and what are
thele but a few court-ceremonies? or, who should be in the
miniſtry? and what is that to the body of the nation,
but a mere fpeculative point? Yet I think it muſt be al-
lowed, that no religious fects ever carried their mutual
averſions to greater heights than our ftate-parties have
done, who, the more to inflame their paffions, have mix-
ed religious and civil animofities together; borrowing
one of their appellations from the church,with the addi-
tion of high and low, how little foever their difputes re-
late to the term, as it is generally understood.
I now proceed to deliver the fentiments of a church-of-
England man, with respect to government.
He doth not think the church of England fo narrow-
ly calculated, that it cannot fall in with any regular
fpecics of government; not doth he think any one re-
gular fpccies of government more acceptable to God
than another. The three generally received in the fchools
have, all of them, their feveral perfections, and are ſub-
ject to their feveral depravations. However, few ſtates
are ruined by any defect in their inftitution, but gene-
rally by the corruption of manners, againſt which the
beſt inftitution is no longer a fecurity, and without which
a very ill one may fubfift and flourish; whereof there
are two pregnant inftances now in Europe. The firit
is, the aristocracy of Venice; which, founded upon the
wifeft maxims, and digefted by a gicat length of time,
hath in our age admitted fo many abufes, through the
degeneracy of the nobles, that the period of its duration
feems to approach. The other is the united republics
of the States-General, where a vein of temperance, in-
duftry, parfimony, and a public fpirit, running through
the whole body of the people, hath preferved an infant
commonwealth, of an untimely birth and fickly confti-
tution, for above an hundred years, through fo many
dangers and difficulties, as a much more healthy one
could never have ftruggled againfl without thofe advan-
tages.
Where fecurity of perfon and property are preſerved
by laws, which none but the tobule can repeal, there the
great ends of government are provided for, whether the
adminiſtration be in the hands of one or of many. Whe
any
CHURCH.OF-ENGLAND MAN.
243
any one person or body of men, who do not reprefent the
whole, ferze into their hands the power in the laſt reſort,
there is properly no longer a government, but what
Ariftotle and his followers call the abuse and corruption
of one.
This diſtinction excludes arbitrary power, in
whatever numbers; which, notwithſtanding all that
Hobbes, Filmer, and others, have faid to its advantage,
I look upon as a greater evil than anarchy itſelf; as much
as a favage is in a happier ſtate of life, than a fave at
the oar.
man can
It is reckoned ill manners, as well as unreafonable, for
men to quarrel upon difference in opinion; becauſe that
is ufually fuppofed to be a thing which no
help in himself. But this I do not conceive to be an
univerfal infallible maxim, except in thofe cafes where
the question is pretty equally difputed among the learned.
and the wife. Where it is otherwife, a man of tolerable
reafon, fome experience, and willing to be inftructed,
may apprehend he has got into a wrong opinion, though
the whole courfe of his mind and inclination would per-
fuade him to believe it true: he may be convinced that
he is in an error, though he does not fee where it lies, by
the bad effects of it in the common conduct of his life,
and by obferving thofe perlons, for whofe wifdom and
goodness he hath the greatest deference, to be of a con-
trary fentiment. According to Hobbes's comparifon of
reaſoning with cafting up accounts, whoever finds a mif-
take in the fum total, muſt allow himſelf out, though,
after repeated trials, he may not fee in which article
he has inifreckoned. I will inftance in one opinion,
which I look upon every man obliged in confcience to
quit, or in prudence to conceal; I mean, that whoever
argues in defence of abfolute power in a fingle perlon,
though he offers the old plaufible plea, that it is
his opinion, which he cannot help, unless he be convinc-
ed, ought in all free ftates to be treated as the com-
mon enemy of mankind. Yet this is laid as heavy
charge upon the clergy of the two reigns before the
revolution, who, under the terms of paffive obedience
and non-refistance, are faid to have preached up the un-
limited power of the prince, becauſe they found it a doc-
trine that pleafed the court, and made way for their
preferment.
M 2
a
244
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
preferment. And I believe, there may be truth enough
in this accufation to convince us, that human frailty
will too often interpofe itſelf among perfons of the holiest
function. However, it may be offered in excuſe for
the clergy, that in the best focieties there are fome ill
members, which a corrupted court and miniftry will in-
duftriouſly find out and introduce. Befides, it is mani-
feft, that the greater number of thofe who held and
preached this doctrine, were mifguided by equivocal
terms, and by perfect ignorance in the principles of go-
vernment, which they had not made any part of their
ftudy. The question originally put, and as I remem-
ber to have heard it difputed in public fchools, was this,
Whether, under any pretence whatsoever, it may be lawful
to resist the fupreme magiftrate? which was held in the
negative; and this is certainly the right opinion. But
many of the clergy and other learned men, deceived by
a dubious expreffion, miftook the object to which paffive
obedience was due. By the Supreme magiftrate is proper-
ly underſtood the legislative power, which in all govern-
ments must be abfolute and unlimited. But the word
magiftrate fecming to denote a ſingle perſon, and to expreſs
the executive power, it came to pass, that the obedience
due to the legislature was, for want of knowing or con-
fidering this eafy diftinction, mifapplied to the adminiſtra-
tion. Neither
Neither is it any wonder, that the clergy, or other
well-meaning people, fhould fall into this error, which
deceived Hobbes himſelf ſo far, as to be the foundation
of all the political miſtakes in his books; where he per-
petually confounds the executive with the legislative
power; though all well-inftituted ftates have ever plac-
ed them in different hands; as may be obvious to thoſe
who know any thing of Athens, Sparta, Thebes, and
other republics of Greece, as well as the greater ones of
Carthage and Rome.
Befides, it is to be confidered, that when thefe doc-
trines began to be preached among us, the kingdom
had not quite worn out the memory of that horrid re-
bellion, under the confequences of which it had groaned
almost twenty years. And a weak prince, in conjunc-
tion with a fucceflion of moft proftitute minifters, be-
gan again to difpofe the people to new attempts, which
1
ic
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
245
it was, no doubt the clergy's duty to endeavour to pre-
vent; though fome of them, for want of knowledge in
temporal affairs, and others, perhaps, from a worfe prin-
ciple, proceeded upon a topic, that, ftrictly followed,
would inflave all mankind.
Among other theological arguments made ufe of in
thofe times in praife of monarchy, and juftification of
abfolute obedience to a prince, there feemned to be one
of a fingular nature. It was urged, That heaven was go-
verned by a monarch, who had none to controul his
power, but was abfolutely obeyed: then it followed,
that earthly governments were the more perfect, the
nearer they imitated the government in heaven.
which I look upon as the frongelt argument againſt de-
potic power that ever was offered; fince no reaſon can
poffibly be affigned, why it is beft for the world, that
God almighty hath fuch a power, which doth not direct-
ly prove that no mortal man ſhould ever have the like.
All
But though a church-of England man thinks every fpe-
cies of government equally lawful, he does not think
them equally expedient; or for every country indifferent-
ly. There may be fomething in the climate naturally
diſpoſing men towards one fort of obedience; as it is
manifest all over Afia, where we never read of any com-
monwealth, except fome fmall ones on the weſtern coaſts
eftablished by the Greeks. There may be a great deal in
the fituation of a country, and in the prefent genius of the
people It hath been obferved, that the temperate
climates ufually run into moderate governments, and
the extremes into defpotic power. It is a remark
of Hobbes, that the youth of England are corrupted in
their principles of government, by reading the authors.
of Greece and Rome, who writ under commonwealths.
But it might have been more fairly offered for the
honour of liberty, that while the reft of the known
world was over-run with the arbitrary government of
fingle perfons, arts and feiences took their rife, and
flourished, only in thofe few ſmall territories where
the people were free. And though learning may con-
tinue after liberty is lot, as it did in Rome, for a
while, upon the foundations laid under the common-
wealth,
246
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
wealth, and the particular patronage of fome emperors,
yet it hardly ever began under a tyranny in any nation :
becauſe flavery is, of all things, the greateſt clog and ob-
Itacle to Speculation And, indeed, arbitrary power is
but the fift natural ſtep from anarchy, or the favage life;
the adjuſting power and freedom being an effect and con-
fequence of maturer thinking: and this is no where ſo
duly regulated as in a limited monarchy; becauſe I be-
lieve it may pass for a maxim in flate, That the admini-
ftration cannot be placed in too few hands, nor the legiſla-
ture in too many. Now, in this material point the con-
ftitution of the English government far exceeds all others
at this time on the earth; to which the prefent eſtab-
liſhment of the church doth fo happily agree, that, I
think, whoever is an enemy to either, muft of neceflity
be fo to both.
He thinks, as our monarchy is constituted, an heredi-
fary right is much to be preferred before election, becauſe
the government here, especially by fome late amend-
ments, is fo regularly difpofed in all its parts, that it al-
moft executes itself: and therefore, upon the death of a
prince among us, the adminiftration goes on without any
rub or interruption. For the fame reaſons, we have leſs
to apprehend from the weakness or fury of our monarchs
who have fuch wife councils to guide the firft, and laws
to restrain the other. And therefore this hereditary
right ſhould be kept ſo facred, as never to break the fuc-
ceffion, unlefs where the preferving it may endanger the
conftitution; which is not from any intrinfic merit or
unalienable right in a particular family, but to avoid the
confequences that ufually attend the ainbition of com-
petitors, to which elective kingdoms are expofed; and
which is the only obftacie to hinder them from arriving
at the greatest perfection that government can poffibly
reach. Hence appears the abfurdity of that diftinction
between a king de facto and one de jure, with refpect to
us.
For every limited monarch is a king de jure; be-
cauſe he governs by the confent of the whole, which is
authority fufficient to abolish all precedent right. If a
king come in by conquest, he is no longer a limited monarch;
if he afterwards content to limitations, he becomes im-
mediately king de jure, for the fame reafon.
The
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
247
The great advocates for fucceffion, who affirm it ought
not to be violated upon any regard or conſideration
whatfoever, do infilt much upon one argument, that
feems to carry little weight. They would have it, that
a crown is a prince's birthright, and ought at least to be
as well fecured to him and his pofterity, as the inheri-
tance of any private man; in fhort, that he has the fame
title to his kingdom, which every individual has to h's
property. Now, the confequence of this doctrine muſt
be, that as a man may find feveral ways to wafte, mi-
fpend, or abuse his patrimony, without being anſwerable
to the laws; fo a king may in like manner do what he
will with his own; that is, he may fquander and mifap-
ply his revenues, and even alienate the crown, without
being called to an account by his fubjects. They allow
fuch a prince to be guilty indeed of much folly and
wickedness; but for thefe he is answerable to God, as
every private man must be that is guilty of mifmanage-
ment in his own concerns. Now, the folly of this rea-
foning will best appear, by applying it in a parallel caſe.
Should any man argue, that a phyfician is fuppofed to
underſtand his own art beft; that the law protects and
encourages his profeffion; and therefore, although he
fhould manifeftly prefcribe poison to all his patients,
whereof they fhould immediately die, he cannot be
juttly punished, but is anfwerable only to God: or
fhould the fame be offered in behalf of a divine, who
would preach againſt religion and moral duties: in either
of theſe two cafes, every body would find out the
fophiftry, and prefently anfwer, That although common
men are not exactly ſkilled in the compofition or appli-
cation of medicines, or in preferibing the limits of du-
ty; yet the difference between poiſons and remedies is
eafily known by their cffects; and common reafon foon
diftinguishes between virtue and vice: and it must be
neceflary to forbid both theſe the further practice of
their profeffions, becaufe their crimes are not purely
perfonal to the phyfician or the divine, but deftruc-
tive to the public. All which is infinitely ftronger
in reſpect to a prince, in whofe good or ill conduct the
happineſs or mifery of a whole nation is included;
whereas
248
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
whereas it is of fmall confequence to the public, farther
than example, how any private perfon manageth his pro-
perty.
But granting that the right of a lineal fucceffor to a
crown were upon the fame foot with the property of a
fubject; ftill it may at any time be transferred by the
legiſlative power, as other properties frequently are.
The fupreme power in a ſtate can do no wrong; becauſe
whatever that doth, is the action of all: and when the
lawyers apply this maxim to the king, they must under-
stand it only in that fenfe, as he is adminiftrator of the
fupreme power; otherwife it is not univerfally true, but
may be controuled in feveral inftances, eafy to produce.
And theſe are the topics we must proceed upon to ju-
ftify our exclufion of the young pretender in France; that
of his fufpected birth being merely popular, and there-
fore not made ufe cf, as I remember, fince the revolution,
in any ſpeech, vote, or proclamation, where there was
occafion to mention him
As to the abdication of King James, which the advo-
cates on that fide look upon to have been forcible and
unjuft, and confequently void in itſelf, I think a man
may obſerve every article of the English church, without
being in much pain about it. It is not unlikely, that all
doors were laid open for his departure, and perhaps not
without the privity of the Prince of Orange; as reafona-
bly concluding, that the kingdom might better be fettled.
in his abfence. But to affirm he had any cauſe to ap-
prehend the fame treatment with his father, is an impro-
bable fcandal flung upon the nation by a few bigotted
French fcribblers, or the invidious affertion of a ruined
party at home in the bitterness of their fouls; not one
material circumftance agreeing with thoſe in 1648; and
the greatest part of the nation having preferved the utmoit
horror for that ignominious murder. But whether his
removal were caufed by his own fears, or other men's
artifices, it is manifeſt to me, that, fuppofing the throne
to be vacant, which was the foot the nation went upon,
the body of the people was thereupon left at liberty to
chufe what form of government they pleaſed, by them-
felves, or their reprefentatives.
The
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
-249
The only difficulty of any weight against the proceed-
ings at the revolution, is an obvious objection to which
the writers upon that fubject have not yet given a direct
or fufficient anfwer; as if they were in pain at fome
confequences, which they apprehend thofe of the con-
trary opinion might draw from it. I will repeat this ob-
jection, as it was offered me fome time ago, with all its
advantages, by a very pious, learned, and worthy gen-
tleman of the nonjuring party. †
The force of his argument turned upon this, That
the laws made by the fupreme power cannot otherwiſe
than by the fupreme power be annulled: That this con-
fifted in England of a King, Lords, and Commons,
whereof each have a negative voice, no two of them can
repeal or enact a law without confent of the third; much
lefs may any one of them be entirely excluded from its
part of the legislature by a vote of the other two: That
all theſe maxims were openly violated at the revolution;
where an affembly of the nobles and people, not fummon-
ed by the King's writ, (which was an effential part of
the conftitution,) and confequently no lawful meeting,
did, merely upon their own authority, declare the King
to have abdicated, the throne vacant; and gave the
crown by a vote to a nephew, when there were three
children to inherit; though, by the fundamental laws of
the realm, the next heir is immediately to fucceed.
Neither doth it appear, how a prince's abdication can
make any other fort of vacancy in the throne, than
would be caufed by his death; fince he cannot abdicate
for his children, who claim their right of fucceffion by
act of parliament,) otherwife than by his own confènt,
in form, to a bill from the two houſes.
And this is the difficulty that feems chiefly to flick
with the moſt reaſonable of thoſe who, from a mere
fcruple of confcience, refufe to join with us upon the
revolution-principle; but for the reft are, I believe, as
far from loving arbitrary government as any others can
M 5
be,
+ Mr. Nelfon, author of the feats and fafts of the church of..
England,
250
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
be, who are born under a free conftitution, and are al-
lowed to have the leaſt ſhare of common good fenfe.
In this objection there are two questions included.
First, Whether, upon the foot of our conftitution, as it
ſtood in the reign of the late King James, a king of Eng-
land may be depofed? The fecond is, Whether the peo-
ple of England, convened by their own authority, after
the king had withdrawn himſelf in the manner he did,
had power to alter the ſucceſſion ?
I
As for the first, it is a point I fhall not prefume to de-
termine; and fhall therefore only fay, that, to any man
who holds the negative, I would demand the liberty of
putting the cafe as ftrongly as I pleafe. I will fuppofe a
prince limited by laws like ours, yet running into a
thouſand caprices of cruelty, like Nero or Caligula ;
will ſuppoſe him to murder his mother and his wife; to
commit inceft, to ravifh matrons, to blow up the fenate,
and burn his metropolis; openly to renounce God and
Chrift, and worship the devil: thefe, and the like exor-
bitancics, are in the power of a fingle perfon to commit,
without the advice of a miniflry, or affillance of an army.
And if ſuch a king as I have defcribed, cannot be de-
pofed but by his own confent in parliament, I do not well
fee how he can be refifted; or what can be meant by a
limited monarchy: or what fignifies the people's confent
in making and repealing laws, if the perfon, who admi-
nifters, hath no tie but confcience, and is anſwerable to
none but God. I defire no ftronger proof that an opi-
nion must be falfe, than to find very great abſurdities
annexed to it; and there cannot be greater than in the
prefent cafe for it is not a bare fpeculation, that kings
may run into fuch enormities as are above mentioned;
the practice may be proved by examples, not only
drawn from the firit Cæfars, or later Emperors, but
many modern princes of Europe; fuch as, Peter the
Cruel, Philip II. of Spain, John Bafilovits of Mufcovy ;
and, in our own nation, King John, Richard III.
and Henry VIII. But there cannot be cqual abfurdi-
ties fuppofed in maintaining the contrary opinion;
becauſe it is certain, that princes have it in their
power to keep a majority on their fide by any to-
lerable adminiftration, till provoked by continual` op-
preflions;
CHURCH.OF.ENGLAND MAN.
251
preffions; no man indeed can then anfwer where the
madnefs of the people will ftop.
As to the fecond part of the objection, Whether the
pcople of England, convened by their own authority,
upon King James's precipitate departure, had power to
alter the fucceffion?
In anfwer to this, I think it is manifeft from the prac-
tice of the wifeft nations, and who feem to have had the
trueft notions of freedom, that when a prince was laid
afide for male adminiftration, the nobles and people, if
they thought it neceſſary for the public weal, did reſume
the administration of the fupreme power, (the power it-
felf having been always in them,) and did not only al-
ter the fucceffion, but often the very form of govern-
ment too; becauſe they believed there was no natural
right in one man to govern another, but that all was by
inftitution, force, or confent. Thus, the cities of Greece,
when they drove out their tyrannical kings, either chofe
others from a new family, or abo.ifhed the kingly go-
vernment, and became free ftatcs. Thus the Romans,
upon the expulfion of Tarquin, found it inconvenient -
for them to be fubject any longer to the pride, the luft,
the cruelty and arbitrary will of fingle perfons; and
therefore, by general confent, entirely altered the whole
frame of their government. Nor do I find the pro-
ceedings of either, in this point, to have been condenm-
ed by any hiftorian of the fucceeding ages.
But a great deal hath been already faid by other wri-
ters upon this invidious and beaten fubject; therefore I
fhall let it fall; though the point is commonly miſtaken,
efpecially by the lawyers; who, of all others, feem leaft
to underſtand the nature of government in general; like
under-workmen, who are expert enough at making a
fingle wheel in a clock, but are utterly ignorant how to
adjuſt the ſeveral parts, or regulate the movements.
To return, therefore, from this digreflion: It is a
church-of-England man's opinion, that the freedom of a
nation confifls in an abfolute unlimited legislative power,
wherein the whole body of the people are fairly repre-
fented and in an executive duly limited; becauſe on this
fide likewife there may be dangerous degrees, and a
very ill extreme. For when two parties in a ſtate are,
pretty
252
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
pretty equal in power, pretenfions, merit, and virtue, (for
thefe two laft are, with relation to parties and a court,
quite different things,) it hath been the opinion of the
best writers upon government, that a prince ought not
in any fort to be under the guidance or influence of
either; becauſe he declines, by this means, from his of-
fice of prefiding over the whole, to be the head of a par-
ty: which, befides the indignity, renders him anfwer-
able for all public mifmanagements, and the confequen-
ces of them and in whatever ftate this happens, there
muft either be a weakneſs in the prince or miniftry, or
elfe the former is too much reſtrained by the nobles, or
thoſe who repreſent the people,
:
To conclude: A church-of-England man may, with
prudence and a good confcience, approve the profeſſed
principles of one party more than the other, according
as he thinks they beft promote the good of church and
ftate; but he will never be fwayed by paflion or intereſt
to advance an opinion, merely because it is that of the
party he moſt approves; which one fingle principle he
looks upon as the root of all our civil animofities. To
enter into a party, as into an order of friars, with fo re-
figned an obedience to fuperiors, is very unfuitable both.
with the civil and religious liberties we fo zealouſly af-
fert. Thus the understandings of a whole fenate are
often inflaved by three or four leaders on each fide;
who, inftead of intending the public weal, have their
hearts wholly fet upon ways and means how to get or
to keep employments. But to speak more at large, how
has this fpirit of faction mingled itfelf with the mafs of
the people, changed their nature and manners, and the
very genius of the nation? broke all the laws of chari..
ty, neighbourhood, alliance, and hofpitality, deftroyed all
ties of friendship, and divided families againſt them-
felves? And no wonder it ſhould be ſo, when, in order
to find out the character of a perfon, inftead of inquiring
whether he be a man of virtue, honour, picty, wit, good
fenfe, or learning; the modern queftion is only, Whe-
ther he be a Whig or a Tory? under which terms all
good and ill qualities are included.
Now, becauſe it is a point of difficulty to chufe an
exact middle between two ill extremes, it may be worth
inquiring,
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
253
inquiring, in the prefent cafe, which of thefe a wife and
good man would rather feem to avoid. Taking there-
fore their own good and ill characters, with due abate-
ments and allowances for partiality and paffion, I fhould
think, that, in order to preferve the conftitution entire
in church and ſtate, whoever hath a true value for both,
would be fure to avoid the extremes of W'big for the fake
of the former, and the extremes of Tory on account of
the latter.
I have now faid all that I could think convenient up-
on fo nice a fubject, and find I have the ambition com-
mon with other reafoners, to wiſh at leaſt that both par-
ties may think me in the right; which would be of fome
ufe to thoſe who have any virtue left, but are blindly
drawn into the extravagancies of either, upon falfe repre-
fentations, to ferve the ambition or malice of defigning
men, without any profpect of their own. But if that is
not to be hoped for, my next wiſh ſhould be, that both
might think me in the wrong; which I would under-
ftand as an ample juftification of myfelf, and a fure
ground to believe, that I have proceeded at leaſt with im-
partiality, and perhaps with truth.
POST-
[ 254 ]
POSTHUMOUS SERMON S.*
SERMON I.
On the TRINITY.
1 Epiftle general of ST. JOHN V. 7.
For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father,
the Word, and the Holy Ghost; and theje three are one.
T
HIS day being fet apart to acknowledge our
belief in the eternal Trinity, I thought it might
be proper to employ my prefent difcourfe entirely upon
that fubject and I hope to handle it in fuch a manner,
that the moſt ignorant among you may return home bet-
ter informed of your duty in this great point, than pro-
bably you are at prefent.
:
It must be confeffed, that by the weakneſs and indif-
cretion of bufy (or, at beft, of well-meaning, people,
as well as by the malice of thoſe who are enemies to all
revealed religion, and are not content to poffefs their
own infidelity in filence, without communicating it to
the disturbance of mankind; I fay, by theſe means, it
muft
* Thefe fermons are curious, and curious for fuch reafons as
would make other works defpicable. They were written in a care-
lefs hurrying manner; and were the offspring of neceffity, not of
choice: fo that one will fee the original force of the Dean's genius
more in theſe compofitions, that were the legitimate fons of duty,
than in other pieces that were the natural fons of love. They were
held in fuch low efteem in his own thoughts, that, fome years be-
fore he died, he gave away the whole collection to Dr. Sheridan,
with the utmoſt indifference: "Here," fays he, are a bundle of
"my old fermons. You may have them if you pleafe. They may
"be of use to you, they have never been of any to me. The parcel
given to Dr. Sheridan confifted, as I have heard, of about thirty-five
fermons. Three or four only are publifhed; and thoſe I have read.
over with attention, Orrery.
>>
Ser. I. ON THE TRINITY.
255
must be confeffed, that the doctrine of the Trinity hath
fuffered very much, and made Chriftianity fuffer along
with it. For thefe two things must be granted: Firſt,
That men of wicked lives would be very glad there were
no truth in Chriftianity at all; and, fecondly, If they can
pick out any one fingie article in the Chriftian religion
which appears not agreeable to their own corrupted rea-
fon, or to the arguments of thoſe bad people who follow
the trade of feducing others, they prefently conclude,
that the truth of the whole gospel muft fink along with
that one article. Which is just as wife, as if a man
fhould fay, becauſe he diflikes one law of his country,
he will therefore obferve no law at all; and yet that
one law may be very reaſonable in itſelf, although he
does not allow it, or does not know the reafon of the
lawgivers.
Thus it hath happened with the great doctrine of the
Trinity; which word is indeed not in fcripture, but was
a term of art invented in the earlier times, to express the
doctrine by a fingle word, for the fake of brevity and
convenience. The doctrine then as delivered in holy
fcripture, though not exactly in the fame words, is very
fhort, and amounts only to this; That the Father, the
Son, and the Holy Ghoft, are each of them God, and
yet there is but one God. For as to the word perſon,
when we fay there are three perfons; and as to thofe
other explanations in the Athanafian creed, this day
read to you, (whether compiled by Athanafius or no,)
they were taken up three hundred years after Chrift, to
expound this doctrine; and I will tell you upon what
occafion. About that time there fprang up a herefy of
people called Arians, from one Arius the leader of them.
Thele denied our Saviour to be God, although they al-
lowed all the rest of the gospel, (wherein they were
more fincere than their followers among us.) Thus
the Chriſtian world was divided into two parts, till at
length, by the zeal and courage of St. Athanafius, the
Arians were condemned in a general council, and a creed
formed upon the true faith, as St. Athanafius hath fet-
tled it. This creed is now read at certain times in our
churches; which although it is uſeful for edification to
thoſe who underſtand it, yet fince it contains fome nice
and
256
Ser. I.
ON THE TRINITY.
and philofophical points, which few people can com-
prehend, the bulk of mankind is obliged to believe no
more than the fcripture-doctrine, as I have delivered it ;
becauſe that creed was intended only as an anſwer to
the Arians in their own way, who were very ſubtle dif
puters.
But this hereſy having revived in the world about an
hundred years ago, and continued ever fince; not out of
a zeal to truth, but to give a looſe to wickedness, by
throwing off all religion; feveral divines, in order to
anſwer the cavils of thofe adverfaries to truth and mo-
rality, began to find out farther explanations of this doc-
trine of the Trinity by rules of philofophy; which have
multiplied controverfies to fuch a degree, as to beget
fcruples that have perplexed the minds of many fober
Chriftians, who otherwife could never have entertained
them.
I must therefore be ſo bold to affirm, that the method
taken by many of thofe learned men to defend the doc-
trine of the Trinity, hath been founded upon a miſtake.
For
It must be allowed, that every man is bound to fol-
low the rules and directions of that meaſure of reafon
which God hath given him. And indeed he cannot do
otherwife, if he will be fincere, or act like a man.
inſtance, if I ſhould be commanded by an angel from.
heaven to believe it is midnight at noon-day; yet I
could not believe him. So if I were directly told in
fcripture, that three are one, and one is three, I could
not conceive or believe it, in the natural common fenfe
of that expreffion; but muft fuppofe, that fomething.
dark or myftical was meant, which it pleafed God to con-
ceal from me, and from all the world. Thus, in the
text, There are three that bear record, &c.
Am I capable
of knowing and defining, what union and what diftinc-
tion there may be in the divine nature, which poffibly
may be hid from the angels themfelves? Again, I fee it
plainly declared in fcripture, that there is but one God;
and yet I find our Saviour claiming the prerogative of God,
in knowing men's thoughts; in faying, He and his Father
are one; and, Before Abraham was, I am. I read, that
the difciples worshipped him; that Thomas faid to him,
My.
Ser. I.
257
ON THE TRINITY.
My Lord and my God; and St. John, chap. i. In the begin-
ning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the
Word was God. I read likewife, that the Holy Ghoft
beſtowed the gift of tongues, and the power of working
miracles; which, if rightly confidered, is as great a mi-
racle as any, that a number of illiterate men ſhould of
a fudden be qualified to fpeak all the languages then
known in the world; fuch as could be done by the in-
ſpiration of God alone. From thefe feveral texts it is
plain, that God commands us to believe there is an union,
and there is a diftinction; but what that union, or what
that diſtinction is, all mankind are equally ignorant, and
muſt continue fo, at leaft till the day of judgment, with-
out fome new revelation.
But becauſe I cannot conceive the nature of this union
and diftinction in the divine nature, am I therefore to
reject them as abfurd and impoffible, as I would if any
one told me, that three men are one, and one man is
three? We are told, that a man and his wife are one
fleſh this I can comprehend the meaning of; yet, lite-
rally taken, it is a thing impoffible. But the apoftle
tells us, We ſee but in part, and we know but in part; and
yet we would comprehend all the fecret ways and work-
ings of Gods.
Therefore I fhall again repeat the doctrine of the
Trinity, as it is pofitively affirmed in fcripture: That
God is there expreffed in three different names, as Fa-
ther,
In defending the peculiar doctrines of Chriftianity, perhaps it
is always best to infift upon the pofitive evidence, as the Dean has
done in this fermon: for in every queftion, he who undertakes to ob-
viate objections, muſt neceffarily be foiled by him who puts them.
By the human intellect, little more than the furface of things can
be known; and therefore fpeculative objections, which would puzzle
an able philofopher, may be easily raiſed even against thoſe truths
which admit of practical demonftration. It was once objected to a
philofopher, who was explaining the laws of motion, That there could
be no fuch thing; for that a body must move either in the place in
which it is, or in the place in which it is not ; but both being impof- .
fible, there could be no motion. The objection the philofopher im-
mediately removed, by walking cross the room. And if none were
to triumph in the ftrength of popular objections against Chriftianity
but thoſe who could otherwife fhew the fallacy of this againſt moti-
on, the number of moral phil fophers among us would probably be very
few. Hawkes,
258
Ser. I.
ON THE TRINITY.
ther, as Son, and as Holy Ghoft; that each of thefe is
God, and that there is but one God But this union
and diſtinction are a myſtery utterly unknown to man-
kind.
This is enough for any good Chriftian to believe on
this great article, without ever inquiring any farther.
And this can be contrary to no man's reafon, although
the knowledge of it is hid from him.
But there is another difficulty, of great importance a-
inong thofe who quarrel with the doctrine of the Trini-
ty, as well as with ſeveral other articles of Christianity;
which is, That our religion abounds in myfterics; and
theſe they are ſo bold to revile as cant, impofture, and
prieftcraft. It is impoffible for us to determine, for
what reaſons God thought fit to communicate fome things
to us in part, and leave fome part a mystery: but fo it
is in fact, and fo the holy fcriptures tell us in feveral
places. For inftance, the refurrection and change of our
bodies are called myfteries by St. Paul; our Saviour's
inca nation is another: the kingdom of God is called a
myfter by our Saviour, to be only known to his difci-
ples; fo is faith and the word of God, by St. Paul. I
omit many others. So that to declare against all myf
teries without distinction or exception, is to declare
against the whole tenor of the New Teftament.
There are two conditions that may bring a myſtery
under fufpicion. First, when it is not taught and com-
manded in holy writ; or, fecondly, When the myſtery
turns to the advantage of thoſe who preach it to others.
Now, as to the first, it can never be faid, that we preach
myfteries without warrant from holy fcripture; al-
though I confess this of the Trinity may have fometimes
been explained by human invention, which might
perhaps better have been spared. As to the fecond, it
will not be poffible to charge the Proteftant priesthood
with propofing any temporal advantage to themſelves
by broaching, or multiplying, or preaching of myf
teries. Does this mystery of the Trinity, for instance,
and the deſcent of the Holy Ghoft, bring the leaſt
profit or power to the preachers? No; it is as great
a mystery to themfelves, as it is to the meanelt of
their
Ser. I.
259
ON THE TRINITY.
their hearers; and may be rather a caufe of humiliation,
by putting their understanding in that point upon a level
with the moft ignorant of their flock. It is true indeed
the Roman church hath very much enriched herself by
trading in myfteries, for which they have not the leaft
authority from fcripture, and which were fitted only to
advance their own temporal wealth and grandeur; fuch
as tranfubftantiation, worshipping of images, indulgences for
fins, purgatory, and mafjes for the dead; with many more.
But it is the perpetual talent of thoſe who have ill-will
to our church, or a contempt for all religion, taken up
by the wickedness of their lives, to charge us with the
errors and corruptions of Popery, which ali Proteftants
have thrown off near two hundred years: whereas thoſe
myftcries held by us have no prospect of power, pomp,
or wealth; but have been ever maintained by the uni-
verfal body of true believers irm the days of the apof-
tles, and will be fo to the refurrection; neither will the
gates of hell prevail againſt them.
It may be thought perhaps a ftrange thing, that God
fhould require us to believe mytteries, while the reaſon
or manner of what we are to believe is above our com-
prehension, and wholly concealed from us Neither doth
it appear at firſt ſight, that the believing or not believing
them doth concern either the glory of God, or contri-
bute to the goodneſs or wickedness of our lives. But
this is a great and dangerous mistake. We fee what a
mighty weight is laid upon faith both in the Old and
New Teftament. In the former we read, how the faith
of Abraham is praiſed, who could believe that God
would raife from him a great nation, at the very fame
time that he was commanded to facrifice his only fon,
and deſpaired of any other iffue: and this was to him
a great mystery. Our Saviour is perpetually preaching
faith to his difciples, or reproaching them with the want
of it; and St. Paul produceth numerous examples of
the wonders done by faith, And all this is highly rea-
fonable for faith is an entire dependence upon the
truth, the power, the juftice, and the mercy of God;
which dependence will certainly incline us to obey him
in all things. So that the great excellency of faith con-
fifts in the confequence it hath upon our actions: as,
if
260
Ser. I.
ON THE TRINITY.
if we depend upon the truth and wisdom of a man, we
fhall certainly be more difpofed to follow his advice.
Therefore let no man think, that he can lead as good a
moral life without faith, as with it; for this reaſon, be-
cauſe he who has no faith cannot, by the ftrength of his
own reafon or endeavours, fo eafily refift temptations, as
the other, who depends upon God's affiftance in the over-
coming his frailties, and is fure to be rewarded for ever
in heaven, for his victory over them Faith, fays the
apofle, is the evidence of things not feen. H means, that
faith is a virtue, by which any thing commanded us by
God to believe, appears evident and certain to us, al-
though we do not fee, nor can conceive it; becaufe by
faith we entirely depend upon the truth and power of
God.
It is an old and true diftinction, that things may be
above our reaſon, without being contrary to it. Of this
kind are the power, the nature, and the univerfal pre-
fence of God, with innumerable other points. How
little do thoſe who quarrel with myfteries, know of the
commonest actions of nature? The growth of an animal,
of a plant, or of the finalleft feed, is a myflery to the
wifeft among men. If an ignorant perfon were told,
that a loadſtone would draw iron at a diftance, he might
fay, it was a thing contrary to his reaſon, and could not
believe before he faw it with his eyes.
The manner whereby the foul and body are united,
and how they are diftinguiſhed, is wholly unaccountable
to us. We fee but one part, and yet we know we con-
fift of two and this is a mystery we cannot comprehend,
any more than that of the Trinity.
From what hath been faid, it is manifeft, that God
did never command us to believe, nor his miniſters to
preach, any docrine which is contrary to the reaſon he
hath pleaſed to endue us with; but, for his own wife
ends, has thought fit to conceal from us the nature of the
thing he commands; thereby to try our faith and obc-
dience, and increaſe our dependence upon him.
It is highly probable, that if God thould pleafe to
reveal unto us this great mystery of the Trinity, or fome
other myſteries in our holy religion, we ſhould not be
able to understand them, unless he would at the fame
time
Ser. I.
261
ON THE TRINITY.
time think fit to beftow on us fome new powers or facul-
ties of the mind, which we want at prefent, and are re-
ferved till the day of refurrection to life cternal For now,
as the apoſtle fays, we ſce through a glajs darkly, but then
face to face.
Thus, we fee, the matter is brought to this iffue; we
muft either believe what God directly commands us in
holy fcripture, or we muſt wholly reject the fcripture,
and the Chriſtian religion, which we pretend to profeſs.
But this, I hope, is too deſperate a ſtep for any of us to
make.
I have already obferved, that thofe who preach up the
belief of the Trinity, or of any other mystery, cannot pro-
pofe any temporal advantage to themfelves by fo doing.
But this is not the cafe of thoſe who oppoſe theſe doc-
trines Do they lead better moral lives than a good
Chriftian? Are they more juft in their dealings? more
chafte, or temperate, or charitable? Nothing at all of
this; but, on the contrary, their intent is to overthrow
all religion, that they may gratify their vices, without
any reproach from the world, or their own conscience;
and are zealous to bring over as many others as they can
to their own opinions; becauſe it is fome kind of ima-
ginary comfort, to have a multitude on their fide.
There is no miracle mentioned in holy writ, which,
if it were strictly examined, is not as much contrary to
common reaſon, and as much a myſtery, as this doctrine
of the Trinity; and therefore we may with equal justice
deny the truth of them all. For inftance, it is againſt
the laws of nature, that a human body fhould be able to
walk upon the water, as St. Peter is recorded to have
done; or that a dead carcafe fhould be railed from the
grave after three days, when it began to corrupt;
which thofe who underland anatony, will pronounce
to be impoffible by the common rules of nature and
reafon. Yet thefe miracles, and many others, are pofi-
tively affirmed in the goipel; and thefe we muft be-
lieve, or give up our holy religion to Atheiſts and In-
fidels.
I fhall now make a few inferences and obfervations
upon what hath been faid.
First,
262
Ser. I.
ON THE TRINITY.
签
​First, It would be well, if people would not lay fo
much weight on their own realon in matters of religion,
as to think every thing impoffible and abfurd which they
cannot conceive. How often do we contradict the
right rules of reaſon in the whole courſe of our lives?
Reaſon itſelf is true and juft; but the reafon of every par-
ticular man is weak and wavering, perpetually fwayed
and turned by his interefts, his paffions, and his vices.
Let any man but confider, when he hath a controverſy
with another, though his cauſe be ever ſo unjuſt, though
the whole world be against him, how blinded he is, by
the love of himſelf, to believe that right is wrong, and
wrong is right, when it makes for his own advantage.
Where is then the right ufe of his reafon, which he fo
much boaſts of, and which he would blafphemously fet
up to control the commands of the Almighty?
Secondly, When men are tempted to deny the myfte-
ries of religion, let them examine and fearch into their
own hearts, whether they have not fome favourite fin,
which is of their party in this difpute, and which is
equally contrary to other commands of God in the gof-
pel. For why do men love darkneſ, rather than light?
The fcripture tells us, Because their deeds are evil; and
there can be no other reafon afligned. Therefore when men
are curious and inquifitive to difcover fome weak fides
in Chriſtianity, and inclined to favour every thing that
is offered to its difadvantage, it is plain they wish it were
not true and thofe wishes can proceed from nothing
but an evil confcience; becaufe, if there be truth in our
religion, their condition must be miferable. *
And, therefore, thirdly, men fhould confider, that
raifing difficulties concerning the mysteries in religion,
cannot make them more wife, learned, or virtuous;
better neighbours, or friends, or more ferviceable to
their
*It is an high encomium on reformed Christianity, and a ſtrong
argument of its fuperior excellence, that a corrupt life always inclines
men to wish it were not true. It does not appear, that Mahome-
tans and Papists with their religion to be falfe in proportion as their
lives are immoral; and it is faid of Dryden, that not being able to
fortify himſelf in infidelity, he died a Papiſt. Harukef.
Ser. I.
263
ON THE TRINITY.
their country; but, whatever they pretend, will deſtroy
their inward peace of mind, by perpetual doubts and
fears arifing in their breafts. And God forbid we
fhould ever fee the times fo bad, when dangerous opini-
ons in religion will be a means to get favour and prefer-
ment; although, even in fuch a cafe, it would be an ill
traffic, to gain the world, and loſe our own fouls. So
that, upon the whole, it will be impoffible to find any
real ufe towards a virtuous or happy life, by denying the
myfteries of the gospel.
Fourthly, Thofe ftrong unbelievers who expect that
all myfteries fhould be ſquared and fitted to their own
reaſon, might have fomewhat to lay for themſelves, if
they could fatisfy the general reafon of mankind in their
opinions. But herein they are miſerably detective, ab-
furd, and ridiculous. They ftrain at a gnat, and ſwallow
a camel they can believe, that the world was made by
chance; that God doth not concern himself with things
below, will neither punifh vice nor reward virtue; that
religion was invented by cunning men to keep the world
in awe; with many other opinions equally falfe and
deteſtable, againſt the common light of nature as well as
reafon; againſt the univerfal fentiments of all civilized
nations, and offenfive to the ears even of a fober Hea-
then.
Laftly, Since the world abounds with peftilent books,
particularly written againſt this doctrine of the Trinity,
it is fit to inform you, that the authors of them pro-
ceed wholly upon a mistake. They would fhew how
impoffible it is, that three can be one, and one can be
three: whereas the fcripture faith no fuch thing, at leaſt
in that manner they would make it; but only that
there is fome kind of unity and diftinction in the
divine nature, which markind cannot poffibly compre-
hend. Thus the whole doctrine is ſhort and plain, and
in itſelf incapable of any controverty; fince God him-
felf hath pronounced the fact, but wholly concealed
the manner. And therefore, many divines, who thought
fit to anſwer thofe wicked books, have been mistaken
too, by answering fools in their folly, and endeavour-
ing to explain a mystery which God intended to keep
fecret from us. And as I would exhort all men to a-
void
264
Ser. I.
ON THE TRINITY.
void reading thofe wicked books written against this
doctrine, as dangerous and pernicious; fo I think they
may omit the anſwers, as unneceffary. This, I confefs,
will probably affect but few or none among the genera-
lity of our congregations, who do not much trouble
themſelves with books, at leaſt of this kind. However,
many who do not read themſelves, are feduced by o-
thers that do; and thus become unbelievers upon truft,
and at fecond hand; and this is too frequent a cafe: for
which reaſon I have endeavoured to put this doctrine up-
on a fhort and fure foot, levelled to the mncaneft under-
ftanding; by which we may, as the apoftle directs, be
ready always to give an anſwer to every man that aſketh
us a reaſon of the hope that is in us, with meekneſs and
fear.
And thus I have done with my fubject; which pro-
bably I ſhould not have chofen, if I had not been invited
to it by the occafion of this feafon, appointed on pur-
pofe to celebrate the mysteries of the Trinity, and the
defcent of the Holy Ghoft, wherein we pray to be kept
ftedfaſt in this faith; and what this faith is, I have
fhewn you in the plainest manner I could. For, upon
the whole, it is no more than this: God commands us,
by our dependence upon his truth and his holy word,
to believe a fact that we do not understand. And this
is no more, than what we do every day in the works of
nature, upon the credit of men of learning. Without
faith we can do no works acceptable to God; for if they
procced from any other principle, they will not advance
our falvation, and this faith, as I have explained it, we
may acquire, without giving up our fenfes, or contra-
dicting our realon. May God, of his infinite inercy, in-
fpire us with true faith in every article and myſtery of
our holy religion, fo as to difpofe us to do what is plea-
fing in his fight and this we pray through Jefus Chrift;
to whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghoft, the myf-
terious incomprehenfible ONE GOD, be all honour and
glory, now and for ever more. Amen.
**This is one of the beft fermons in its kind. Dr. Swift ſeems
not to have made fur h a plan his voluntary choice, nor to have built,
fuo ex motu, upon fuch a baſis; but he has completed the fuperitruc-
ture in a moſt maſterly manner. The materials anfwer the dignity
of
Ser. II. ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
265
of the edifice; and the artificer may aſſume great honour, upon the
completion of fo noble, fo fimple, and fo uſeful a pile. The myfte-
rious parts of our religion are apt to have dreadful effects upon weak
minds. The general comments upon the facred writings, and the
ſeveral fermons upon the moſt abftrufe points of fcripture, are too of-
ten compofed in the gloomy ftyle. Damnation, eternal damnation,
is placed with all its horror before our eyes; and we are ſo terrified
at the prospect, that fear makes us imagine we can comprehend my-
fteries, which, on this fide of the grave, muft be for ever denied to
our limited underſtandings. Swift has taken the ſafeſt, and the
propereft method of expounding theſe arcana. He advances every
pofition that can be eſtabliſhed upon fo incomprehenfible a fubject.
He fuftains the belief, avows the doctrine, and adapts the matter of
faith as well as poffible to the human capacity. His manner of rea-
ſoning is maſterly, and his arguments are nervous, particularly,
where he fays, "It is highly probably, that if God ſhould pleaſe to
"reveal unto us this great mystery of the Trinity, or fome other
"myſteries in our holy religion, we ſhould not be able to underſtand
"them, unless he would at the fame time think fit to beſtow on us
"fome new powers or faculties of the mind, which we want at pre-
"fent, and are referved till the day of refurrection to life eternal."
p. 260, 1. Orrery.
SERMON II.
ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
Τ'
I St. PETER V. 5.
Yea, all of you be jubject one to another.
HE apoſtle having, in many parts of this epiſtle,
given directions to Chriftians concerning the duty
of fubjection, or obedience to fuperiors; in the feveral
inftances of the fubject to the prince, the child to his
parent, the fervant to his mafter, the wife to her huf-
band, and the younger to the elder; both here, in the
words of my text, fum up the whole, by advancing a
point of doctrine, which at firft may appear a little ex-
traordinary Yea, all of you, faith he, be ſubject one to
another. For it ſhould feem, that two perfons cannot
properly be faid to be fubject to each other, and that
fubjection is only due from inferiors to thoſe above them:
VOL. I.
N
yet
266
Ser. II.
ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
+
yet St. Paul hath feveral paffages to the fame purpoſe.
For he exhorts the Romans, in honour to prefer one ano-
ther; and the Philippians, that in lowliness of mind
they should let each efteem other better than themselves;t and
the Ephefians, that they ſhould ſubmit themſelves one to
another in the fear of the Lord. Here we find theſe two
great apoftles recommending to all Chriftians this duty.
of mutual fubjection. For we may obferve by St. Peter,
that having mentioned the feveral relations which men
bear to each other, as governor and ſubject, maſter and
fervant, and the reft which I have already repeated, he
makes no exception; but fums up the whole with com-
manding all to be fubject one to another. From whence
we may conclude, that this fubjection due from all men
to all men, is fomething more than the compliment of
courfe, when our betters are pleafed to tell us they are
our humble fervants, but underſtand us to be their flaves.
I know very well, that fome of thofe who explain
this text, apply it to humility, to the duties of charity,
to private exhortations, and to bearing with each other's
infirmities; and it is probable the apollle may have had
a regard to all theſe. But however, many learned men
agree, that there is fomething more underflood; and fo
the words in their plain natural meaning muft import;
as you will obſerve yourſelves, if you read them with the
beginning of the verfe which is thus: Likewise ye younger,
Submit yourselves unto the elder: yea, all of you be Jubječt
one to another. So that, upon the whole, there mult be
fome kind of fubjection due from every man to every
man, which cannot be made void by any power, pre-
eminence, or authority whatfoever. Now, what fort of
fubjection this is, and how it ought to be paid, ſhall be
the ſubject of my prefent difcourle.
As God hath contrived all the works of nature to be
uſeful, and in fome manner a fupport to each other, by
which the whole frame of the world under his provi-
dence is preferved and kept up; fo, among mankind our
particular ftations are appointed to each of us by God al-
mighty, wherein we are obliged to act, as far as our power
reacheth, towards the good of the whole community.
And
Rom. xii. 10. + Phil. ii. 3.
|| Eph. v. 21.
Ser. II. ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
267
And he who doth not perform that part affigned him,
towards advancing the benefit of the whole, in propor-
tion to his opportunities and abilities, is not only an ufe-
leſs, but a very mischievous member of the public; be-
cauſe he takes his fhare of the profit, and yet leaves his
fhare of the burden to be borne by others, which is the
true principal caufe of moft miferies and misfortunes in
life. For a wife man who does does not affift with his
counfels, a great man with his protection, a rich man
with his bounty and charity, and a poor man with his
labour, are perfect nuiſances in a commonwealth. Nei-
ther is any condition of life more honourable in the
fight of God than another; otherwife he would be a
respecter of perſons, which he affures us he is not: for
he hath propofed the fame falvation to all men, and hath
only placed them in different ways or ſtations to work
it out. Princes are born with no more advantages of
ftrength or wisdom than other men; and, by an unhap-
py education, are ufually more defective in both, than
thouſands of their fubjects. They depend for every ne-
ceffary of life upon the meaneft of their people: befides,
obedience and fubjection were never enjoined by God
to humour the paflions, lufts, and vanities of thoſe who
demand them from us; but we are commanded to obey
our governors, becauſe diſobedience would breed fediti-
ons in the ſtate. Thus fervants are directed to obey
their masters, children their parents, and wives their
huſbands; not from any reſpect of perfons in God, but
becauſe otherwife there would be nothing but confufion
in private families. This matter will be clearly ex-
plained, by confidering the compariſon which St. Paul
makes between the church of Chrift and the body of
man for the fame refemblance will hold, not only to
families and kingdoms, but to the whole corporation of
mankind. The eye, faith he, cannot fay unto the hand, I have.
no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need
of you. Nay, much more, thofe members of the body which feem
to be more feeble, are neceffary. And whether one member fuf-
fer, all the members fuffer with it; or one member be honoured,
all the members rejoice with it.The cafe is directly the fame
N 2
among
1 Cor. xii. 21, 22, 26.
268 ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
Ser. II,
among mankind. The prince cannot fay to the mer-
chant, I have no need of thee; nor the merchant to the
labourer, I have no need of thee. Nay, much more
thoſe members which feem to be more feeble, are necef-
fary. For the poor are generally more neceffary mem-
bers of the commonwealth than the rich: which clearly
fhews, that God never intended fuch poffeffions for the
fake and fervice of thofe to whom he lends them ; but
becauſe he hath affigned every man his particular ftation
to be uſeful in life, and this for the reafon given by the
apoftle, that there may be no fchifm in the body.
From hence may partly be gathered the nature of that
fubjection which we all owe to one another. God al-
mighty hath been pleafed to put us into an imperfect
ſtate, where we have perpetual occafion of each other's
affiftance. There is none fo low, as not to be in a capa-
city of affifting the higheft; nor fo high, as not to want
the affiftance of the loweſt.
It plainly appears from what hath been ſaid, that no
one human creature is more worthy than another in the
fight of God, farther than according to the goodness or
holiness of their lives; and that power, wealth, and the
like outward advantages, are fo far from being the marks
of God's approving or preferring thoſe on whom they are
beſtowed, that, on the contrary, he is pleaſed to ſuffer
them to be almoft ingroffed by thofe who have least
title to his favour. Now, according to this equality
wherein God hath placed all mankind with relation to
himſelf, you will obferve, that in all the relations be-
tween man and man, there is a mutual dependence,
whereby the one cannot fubfift without the other Thus,
no man can be a prince without fubjects, nor a maller,
without fervants, nor a father without children. And
this both explains and confirms the doctrine of the text:
for where there is a mutual dependence, there muſt be a
mutual duty, and confequently a mutual fubjection.
For inftance, the fubject muft obey his prince, becauſe
God commands it, human laws require it, and the fafe-
ty of the public makes it neceflary. For the fame
reaſons we muft obey all that are in authority, and
fubmit ourselves not only to the good and gentle, but
alfo
Ser. II. ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
269
allo to the froward, whether they rule according to our
liking or no. On the other fide, in thoſe countries that
pretend to freedom, princes are fubject to thofe laws
which their people have chofen; they are bound to pro-
tect their ſubjects in liberty, property, and religion; to
receive their petitions, and redreſs their grievances: fo
that the beſt prince is, in the opinion of wife men, only
the greatest fervant of the nation: not only a fervant
to the public in general, but in fome fort to every man
in it. In the like manner, a fervant owes obedience, and
diligence, and faithfulneſs, to his maſter; from whom,
at the fame time, he hath a juít demand for protection,
and maintenance, and gentle treatment. Nay, even the
poor beggar hath a just demand of an alms from the
rich man; who is guilty of fraud, injuſtice, and oppreſ
fion, if he does not afford relief according to his abili
ties.
But this fubjection we all owe one to another, is no
where more neceffary, than in the common converfations
of life; for without it there could be no fociety among
men. If the learned would not fometimes fubinit to the
ignorant, the wife to the fimple, the gentle to the fro-
ward, the old to the weakneffes of the young, there
would be nothing but everlaſting variance in the world.
This our Saviour himself confirmed by his own example;
for he appeared in the form of a fervant, and waſhed his
difciples feet, adding thoſe memorable words, le call me
Lord, and Mafter: and ye fay well; for fo I am. If I then
your Lord and Mafter wash your feet, how much more
ought ye to wash one anothers feet? Under which expref-
fion of washing the feet, is included all that fubjection,
affiftance, love, and duty, which every good Chriftian
ought to pay his brother, in whatever itation God hath
placed him. For the greatest prince and the meaneſt
flave are not by infinite degrees fo diitant, as our Savi-
our and thofe difciples whofe feet he vouchlafed to
waſh.
And although this doctrine of fubjecting ourſelves to
one another, may feem to grate upon the pride and va-
nity of mankind, and may therefore be hard to be
digefted by thofe who value themfelves upon their
greatnefs or their wealth; yet it is really no more than
what
270
Ser. II.
ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
what moſt men practile upon other occafions. For if
our neighbour, who is our inferior, comes to fee us, we
rife to receive him, we place him above us, and refpect
him as if he were better than ourfelves; and this is
thought both decent and neceflary, and is ufually called.
good manners. Now, the duty required by the apoſtle is
only, that we should enlarge our minds, and that what
we thus practiſe in the common courfe of life, we should
imitate in all our actions and proceedings whatfoever;
fince our Saviour tells us, that every man is our neigh-
bour, and fince we are fo ready, in the point of civility,
to yield to others in our own houfes, where only we have
any title to govern.
Having thus fhewn you, what fort of ſubjection it is
which all men owe one to another, and in what manner
it ought to be paid, I fhall now draw fome obſervations
from what hath been ſaid.
And, firf, A thorough practice of this duty of fub-
jecting ourselves to the wants and infirmities of each
other, would utterly extinguish in us the vice of pride.
For if God has pleafed to intruft me with a talent not
for my own fake, but for the fervice of others, and at the
fame time hath left me full of wants and neceffities,
which others muft fupply; I can then have no cauſe to
fet any extraordinary value upon myſelf, or to defpife my
brother, becauſe he hath not the fame talents which were
lent to me. His being may probably be as uſeful to the
public as mine; and therefore, by the rules of right
reaſon, I am in no fort preferable to him.
Secondly, It is very manifeft from what has been faid,
that no man ought to look upon the advantages of life,
fuch as riches, honour, power, and the like, as his pro-
perty, but merely as a truft which God hath depoſited
with him to be employed for the uſe of his brethren :
and God will certainly punifh the breach of that truft,
though the laws of man will not, or rather indeed can-
not; becauſe the truft was conferred only by God, who
has not left it to any power on earth to decide infalli-
bly, whether a man makes a good ufe of his talents or
no, or to puniſh him where he fails. And therefore
God feems to have more particularly taken this matter
into his own hands, and will most certainly reward or
puniſh
Ser. II. ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
271
punish us in proportion to our good or ill performance in
it Now, although the advantages which one man pof-
feffeth more than another, may in fome fenfe be called
his property with respect to other men; yet, with re-
ípect to God, they are, as I faid, only a truft: which
will plainly appear from hence: If a man does not uſe
thoſe advantages to the good of the public, or the bene-
fit of his neighbour, it is certain, he doth not deferve
them, and conſequently that God never intended them
for a bleffing to him; and, on the other fid, whoever
does employ his talents as he ought, will find by his own
experience, that they were chiefly lent him for the fer-
vice of others; for to the fervice of others he will cer-
tainly employ them.
Thirdly, If we could all be brought to practife this
duty of fubjecting ourſelves to each other, it would very
much contribute to the general happinels of mankind.
For this would root out envy and malice from the heart
of man; becauſe you cannot envy your neighbour's-
ſtrength, if he make uſe of it to defend your life, or car-
ry your burden; you cannot envy his wifdom, if he
gives you good counfel; nor his riches, if he fupplies
you in your wants; nor his greatnefs, if he employs it
to your protection. The miferies of life are not properly
owing to the unequal diftribution of things; but God
almighty, the great King of heaven, is treated like the
kings of the earth, who although perhaps intending
well themſelves, have often moſt abominable miniſters
and ſtewards; and thofe generally the vileft, to whom
they intruft the mcft talents. But here is the differ-
ence, that the priness of this world fee by other men's
eyes, but God fees all things; and therefore when-
ever he permits his blefings to be dealt among thofe
who are unworthy, we may certainly conclude, that
he intends them only as a punishment to an evil world,
as well as to the owners. It were well, if thofe
would confider this, whofe riches ferve them only as
a fpur to avarice, or as an inftrument to their lufts;
whoſe wiſdom is only of this world, to put falfe
colours upon things, to call good evil, and evil good,
against the conviction of their own conſciences; and,
lally, who employ their power and favour in acts of
oppreffion
272
Ser. II.
ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
oppreffion or injuftice, in mifreprefenting perfons and
things, or in countenancing the wicked to the ruin of
the innocent.
Fourthly, The practice of this duty of being ſubject
to one another, would make us reft contented in the
ſeveral ſtations of life wherein God hath thought fit to
place us; becauſe it would, in the beſt and eaſieſt man-
ner, bring us back as it were to that early ſtate of the
gofpel, when Chriſtians had all things in common. For
if the poor found the rich diſpoſed to fupply their wants;
if the ignorant found the wife ready to inftruct and di-
rect them; or if the weak might always find protection.
from the mighty; they could none of them, with the
leaft pretence of juftice, lament their own condition.
From all that hath been hitherto faid, it appears, that
great abilities of any fort, when they are employed as
God directs, do but make the owners of them greater
and more painful fervants to their neighbour, and the
public. However, we are by no means to conclude
from hence, that they are not really bleffings, when they
are in the hands of good men. For, firft, what can be a
greater honour, than to be chofen one of the ſtewards
and difpenfers of God's bounty to mankind? What is
there that can give a generous fpirit more pleaſure and
complacency of mind, than to confider, that he is an in-
ftrument of doing much good? that great numbers owe
to him, under God, their fubfiftence, their fafety, their
health, and the good conduct of their lives? The wick-
edeft man upon earth takes a pleaſure in doing good to
thofe he loves; and therefore, furely, a good Chriftian,
who obeys our Saviour's command of loving all men,
cannot but take delight in doing good even to his ene-
mies. God, who gives all things to all men, can receive
nothing from any; and thofe among men who do the moſt
good, and receive the fewest returns, do moſt reſemble
their Creator: for which reafon St Paul delivers it as a
faying of our Saviour, that it is more bleſſed to give than to
receive. By this rule, what must become of thoſe things
which the world values as the greatest bleffings, riches,
power, and the like, when our Saviour plainly determines,
that the best way to make them bleffings, is to part with
them?
Ser. II. ON MUTUAL SUBJECTION.
273
them? Therefore although the advantages which one
man hath over another, may be called bleffings, yet they
are by no means fo in the fenfe the world ufually un-
derſtands. Thus, for example, great riches are no bleſ-
fing in themſelves; becauſe the poor man, with the
common neceffaries of life, enjoys more health, and has
fewer cares, without them. How then do they become
bleffings No other wife, than by being employed in
feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, rewarding wor-
thy men, and, in ſhort, doing acts of charity and gene-
rofity. Thus likewife power is no bleffing in itſelf, be-
caufe private men bear leſs envy, and trouble, and an.
guiſh, without it. But when it is employed to prote&t
the innocent, to relieve the oppreffed, and to puniſh the
oppreffor, then it becomes a great bleffing. And fo,
laitly, even great wifdom is, in the opinion of Solomon,
not a bleſſing in itſelf: for in much wisdom is much for-
row; and men of common underſtandings, if they ferve
God, and mind their callings, make fewer miſtakes in
the conduct of life, than thoſe who have better heads..
And yet wiſdom is a mighty bleffing, when it is applied
to good purpoſes, to inftruct the ignorant, to be a faith-
ful counsellor either in public or private, to be a director
to youth, and to many other ends needlefs here to men-
tion.
To conclude: God fent us into the world to obey his
commands, by doing as much good as our abilities will
reach, and as little evil as our many infirmities will per-
mit. Some he hath only trufted with one talent, fome
with five, and fome with ten, No man is without his
talent; and he that is faithful or negligent in a little,
ſhall be rewarded or puniſhed, as well as he that hath.
been fo in a great deal.
Confider what hath been faid, &c.
.
*This fermon is upon mutual fubjection, and that duty which
is owing from one man to another. A clearer ftyle, or a difcourfe
more properly adapted to a public audience, can fcarce be framed.
Every paragraph is fimple, nervous, and intelligible. The threads
of each argument are clofely connected, and logically pursued. But
in places where the Dean has the leaft opportunity to introduce po-
litical maxims, or to dart an arrow at the conduct of princes, he ne-
ver fails to indulge himſelf in his ufual manner of thinking; as will
appear
N 5
274
Ser. III.
ON THE TESTIMONY
appear from the following quotation. "A wife man," fays Dr.
Swift, "who does not affift with his counfels, a great man with his
"protection, a rich man with his bounty and charity, and a poor
<<
man with his labour, are perfect nuiſances in a commonwealth.
"Neither is any condition of life more honourable in the fight of
"God than another; otherwife he would be a reſpecter of perſons,
"which he aſſumes us he is not: for he hath propofed the fame
"falvation to all men, and hath only placed them in different ways
"or ftations to work it out. Princes are born with no more ad-
"vantages of ftrength or wiſdom than other men; and, by an un-
"happy education, are uſually more defective in both, than thou-
"fands of their fubjects," p, 267. Again, in the fame ftrain, "The
beſt prince is, in the opinion of wife men, only the greatest fer-
vant of the nation; not only a fervant to the public in general, but
" in ſome fort to every man in it," p. 269. But the moſt extraordi-
nary paffage is a covert ftroke at the highest order of his brethren the
clergy. It runs thus. "The miferics of life are not properly owing
"to the unequal diftribution of things; but God almighty, the great
"King of heaven, is treated like the kings of the earth; who al-
"though perhaps intending well them elves, have often moft abo.
minable minifters and ftewards, and thofe generally the vilett, to
"whom they intruft the most talents," p. 271. Dark as it is, this
paragraph requires no explanation. The author's natural tur of
mind breaks forth upon all occafions, and the politician frequently
outweighs the divine. If the dictates of fuch a ipirit were capable
of forcing their way from the pulpit, what a glorious, what a confiſt-
ent figure must Swift have made in the roftrum, at Rome, or in
one of the portico's at Athens? Onay.
SERMON III
On the TESTIMONY of CONSCIENCE.
2 COR. i. 12 part of it.
For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our con-
Jiience.
Here is no word more frequently in the mouths of
TH
men, than that of confcience; and the meaning of
it is in fome meafure generally underſtood. However,
becauſe it is likewife a word extremely abufed by many
people, who apply other meanings to it, which God al-
mighty
Ser. III.
275
OF CONSCIENCE.
mighty never intended; I fhall explain it to you in the
clearest manner I am able. The word confcience proper-
ly fignifies that knowledge which a man hath within
himſelf, of his own thoughts and actions. And be-
cauſe, if a man judgeth fairly of his own actions, by
comparing them with the law of God, his mind will
either approve or condeinn him, according as he hath
done good or evil; therefore this knowledge or con-
fcience may properly be called both an accufer and a
judge. So that whenever our confcience accufeth us,
we are certainly guilty: but we are not always innocent,
when it doth not accufe us; for very often through the
hardness of our hearts, or the fondneis and favour we
bear to ourselves, or through ignorance or neglect, we
do not fuffer our confcience to take any cognisance of
feveral fins we commit. There is another office like-
wife belonging to confcience, which is that of being
our director and guide; and the wrong uſe of this hath
been the occafion of more evils under the fun, than almoſt
all other caufes put together. For as confcience is no-
thing else but the knowledge we have of what we are
thinking and doing; fo it can guide us no farther than
that knowledge reacheth; and therefore God hath
placed conſcience in us to be our director only in thoſe
actions which feripture and reaſon plainly tell us to be
good or evil. But in cafes too difficult or doubtful for
us to comprehend or determine, there confcience is not
concerned; becauſe it cannot advife in what it doth not
understand, not decide where it is itſelf in doubt: but,
by God's great mercy, thofe difficult points are never of
abfolute neceffity to our falvation. There is likewife
another evil, that men often fay, a thing is againſt
their confcience, when really it is not. For instance,
afk any of those who differ from the worſhip eſtabliſh-
ed, why they do not come to church? they will fay,
they diflike the ceremonies, the prayers, the habits,
and the like: and therefore it goes against their con-
fcience. But they are mistaken; their teacher hath put
thoſe words into their mouths; for a man's confcience can
go no higher than his knowledge; and therefore till he
has thoroughly examined, by feripture, and the practice
of the ancient church, whether thofe points are blame-
able.
276
Ser. III.
ON THE TESTIMONY
able or no, his confcience cannot poffibly direct him to
condemn them. Hence have likewife arifen thofe mif-
takes about what is ufually called liberty of confcience;
which, properly ſpeaking, is no more than a liberty of
knowing our own thoughts; which liberty no one can
take from us, But thoſe words have obtained quite
different meanings. Liberty of confcience is now-a-days
not only underſtood to be the liberty of believing what
men pleaſe, but alſo of endeavouring to propagate that
belief as much as they can, and to overthrow the faith
which the laws have already eſtabliſhed, and to be re-
warded by the public for thofe wicked endeavours: and
this is the liberty of confcience which the Fanatics are
now, openly in the face of the world, endeavouring at
with their utmoſt application. At the fame time it can-
not but be obſerved, that thoſe very perfons who, un-
der pretence of a public fpirit, and tenderness towards
their Chriftian brethren, are fo zealous for fuch a liber.
ty of confcience as this, are of all others the leaft tender
to thoſe who differ from them in the fmalleft point re-
lating to government; and I wish I could not fay, that
the majesty of the living God may be offended with more
fecurity than the memory of a dead prince. But the
wiſdom of the world at prefent feems to agree with that
of the Heathen emperor, who faid, If the gods were of-
fended, it was their own concern, and they were able
to vindicate themselves.
But although confcience hath been abuſed to thofe
wicked purpoſes which I have already related, yet a due
regard to the directions it plainly gives us, as well as to
its accufations, reproaches, and advices, would be of the
greatest ufe to mankind, both for their prefent welfare
and future happineſs
Therefore my difcourfe at this time ſhall be directed to
prove to you, that there is no folid, firm foundation for
virtue, but on a confcience which is guided by religion,
In order to this, I fhall first fhew you the weakneſs
and uncertainty of two falfe principles, which many
people fet up in the place of confcience for a guide to
their actions.
The first of thefe principles is what the world ufually
calls moral honesty. There are fome people, who appear very
indifferent
Ser. III.
277
OF CONSCIENCE.
indifferent as to religion, and yet have the repute of be-
ing juſt and fair in their dealings; and thefe are gene-
rally known by the character of good moral-men. But
now, if you look into the grounds and the motives of
ſuch a man's actions, you ſhall find them to be no other
than his own caſe and intereft. For example, you truft
a moral man with your money in the way of trade, you
truſt another with the defence of your caufe at law;
and perhaps they both deal juftly with you. Why?
not from any regard they have for justice, but becauſe
their fortune depends upon their credit, and a ftain of
open public difhonefty must be to their difadvantage.
But let it confit with fuch a man's intereſt and ſafety to
wrong you, and then it will be impoffible you can have
any hold upon him; becauſe there is nothing left to
give him a check, or to put in the balance againſt his
profit. For if he hath nothing to govern himſelf by but
the opinion of the world, as long as he can conceal his
injuftice from the world, he thinks he is fafe.
Befides, it is found by experience, that thofe men who
fet up for morality, without regard to religion, are ge-
nerally virtuous but in part: they will be juft in their
dealings between man and man; but if they find them-
felves difpofed to pride, luft, intemperance, or avarice,
they do not think their morality concerned to check them
in any
of thefe vices; becauſe it is the great rule of fuch
men, that they may lawfully follow the dictates of na-
ture, where-ever their fafety, health, and fortune are not
injured. So that, upon the whole, there is hardly one
vice which a mere moral man may not upon fome oc-
cafions allow himſelf to practiſe.
The other falſe principle which fome men fet up in
the place of conſcience to be their director in life, is what
thoſe who pretend to it call honour.
This word is often made the fanction of an oath ;
it is reckoned a great commendation to be a man of
ſtrict honour; and it is commonly underſtood, that
a man of honour can never be guilty of a baſe action.
This is ufually the ftyle of military men, of per-
fons with titles, and of others who pretend to birth and
quality. It is true indeed, that in ancient times it was
univerfally underſtood, that honour was the reward of
virtue ;
278
Ser. III
ON THE TESTIMONY
virtue; but if fuch honour as is now-a-days going, will
not permit a man to do a bafe action, it muſt be allowed,
there are very few fuch things as baſe actions in nature.
No man of honour, as that word is ufually underſtood,
did ever pretend, that his honour obliged him to be chafte
or temperate, to pay his creditors, to be uſeful to his
country, to do good to mankind, to endeavour to be wife
or learned, to regard his word, his promife, or his oath :
or if he hath any of thefe virtues, they were never learn-
ed in the catechifm of honour: which contains but two
precepts; the punctual payment of debts contracted at
play, and the right understanding the feveral degrees of
an affront, in order to revenge it by the death of an ad-
verſary.
But fuppofe this principle of honour, which fome men
ſo much boast of, did really produce more virtues than
it ever pretended to; yet, fince the very being of that
honour depended upon the breath, the opinion, or the
fancy of the people, the virtues derived from it could be
of no long or certain duration. For example, fuppoſe a
man, from a principle of honour, fhould refolve to be
juft, or chafte, or temperate, and yet the cenfuring world
fhould take a humour of refufing him thofe characters,
he would then think the obligation at an end. Or, on
the other fide, if he thought he could gain honour by
the falfeft and vileft action, (which is a cafe that very of-
ten happens,) he would then make no fcruple to perform
it. And God knows, it would be an unhappy itate, to
have the religion, the liberty, or the property of a peo-
ple lodged in fuch hands; which however hath been too
often the cafe.
What I have faid upon this principle of honour, may
perhaps be thought of Imall concernment to moſt of you
who are my hearers: however, a caution was not altoge-
ther unneceffary; fince there is nothing by which not
only the vulgar, but the honeft tradefman hath been fo
inuch deceived, as this infamous pretence to honour in
too many of their betters.
Having thus fhewn you the weakneſs and uncertainty
of thoſe principles which fome men fet up in the place
of conſcience to direct them in their actions, I ſhall now
endeavour to prove to you, that there is no folid, firm
foundation
Ser. III.
279
OF CONSCIENCE.
foundation of virtue, but in a confcience directed by the
principles of religion.
There is no way of judging how far we may depend
upon the actions of men, otherwife than by knowing the
motives and grounds, and caufes of them; and if the
motives of our actions be not refolved and determined
into the law of God, they will be precarious and un-
certain, and liable to perpetual changes. I will fhew you
what I mean, by an example. Suppoſe a man thinks it
his duty to obey his parents, becaufe reafon tells him ſo,
becaufe he is obliged by gratitude, and becauſe the laws
of his country command him to do fo: if he ſtops here,
his parents can have no lafting ſecurity; for an occafion
may happen, wherein it may be extremely his intereft to
be diſobedient, and where the laws of the land can lay
no hold upon him therefore, before fuch a man can
fafely be trufted, he muft proceed farther, and confider
that his reafon is the gift of God; that God commanded
him to be obedient to the laws, and did moreover, in a
particular manner, enjoin him to be dutiful to his pa-
rents; after which, if he lays due weight upon thoſe con-
fiderations, he will probably continue in his duty to the
end of his life; becaufe no earthly intereft can ever come
in competition to balance the danger of offending his
Creator, or the happineſs of pleaſing him. And of all
this his confcience will certainly inform him, if he hath
any regard to religion.
:
Secondly, Fear and hope are the two greatest natural
motives of all men's actions. But neither of thefe paf-
fions will ever put us in the way of virtue, unless they
be directed by confcience. For although virtuous men
do fometimes accidentally make their way to prefer-
ment, yet the world is to corrupted, that no man can
reaſonably hope to be rewarded in it, merely upon ac-
count of his virtue. And confequently the fear of
nifhment of this life will preferve men from very few
vices; fince fome of the blackeft and bafeft do often
prove the fureft fleps to favour; fuch as ingratitude, hy-
pocrify, treachery, malice, fubornation, atheifm, and
many more, which human laws do little concern them-
felves about. But when confcience placeth before us
the hopes of everlafting happiness, and the fears of
pu-
everlaſting
280
Ser. III.
ON THE 'TESTIMONY
everlaſting miſery, as the reward and punishment of our
good or evil actions, our reaſon can find no way to avoid
the force of fuch an arguinent, otherwife than by run-
ning into infidelity.
Lastly, Confcience will direct us to love God, and to
put our whole truft and confidence in him. Our love
of God will infpire us with a deteftation for fin, as what
is of all things moſt contrary to his divine nature; and
if we have an entire confidence in him, that will enable
us to fubdue and defpife all the allurements of the
world.
It may here be objected, If conſcience be fo fure a di-
rector to us Chriftians in the conduct of our lives, how
comes it to pass, that the ancient Heathens, who had no
other lights but thofe of nature and reaſon, ſhould ſo far
exceed us in all manner of virtue, as plainly appears by
many examples they have left on record?
:
To which it may be anſwered: Firft, thofe Heathens
were extremely ſtrict and exact in the education of their
children whereas, among us, this care is fo much laid
afide, that the more God has bleffed any man with e-
ftate or quality, juft fo much the lefs in proportion is
the care he takes in the education of his children, and
particularly of that child which is to inherit his for-
tune; of which the effects are viſible enough among the
great ones of the world. Again, thofe Heathens did, in
a particular manner, inftil the principle into their chil-
dren, of loving their country; which is fo far otherwife
now-a-days, that of the ſeveral parties among us, there is
none of them that ſeem to have fo much as heard whe-
ther there be fuch a virtue in the world; as plainly ap-
pears by their practices, and eſpecially when they are
placed in thoſe ſtations where they can only have oppor-
tunity of fhewing it. Laftly, the most confiderable
among the Heathens did generally believe rewards and
puniſhments in a life to come; which is the great prin-
ciple for confcience to work upon: whereas too many
of those who would be thought the moft confiderable
among us, do, both by their practices and their dif-
courfes, plainly affirm, that they believe nothing at all
of the matter.
Wherefore, fince it hath manifeftly appeared, that a
religious
Ser. III.
281
OF CONSCIENCE
religious confcience is the only true folid foundation
upon which virtue can be built, give me leave, before
I conclude, to let you fee how neceffary fuch a confci-
ence is, to conduct us in every ftation and condition of
our lives.
in awe.
That a religious confcience is neceffary in any ſtation,
is confeffed even by thofe who tell us that all religion
was invented by cunning men in order to keep the world
For if religion, by the confeffion of its adver-
faries, be neceffary toward the well-governing of man-
kind; then every wife man in power will be fure, not
only to chufe out, for every ftation under him, fuch
fons as are moſt likely to be kept in awe by religion, but
likewife to carry fome appearance of it himſelf, or elſe
he is a very weak politician. And accordingly, in any
country, where great perfons affect to be open defpifers of
religion, their counſels will be found at laft to be fully as
deftructive to the ftate as to the church.
any
per-
It was the advice of Jethro to his fon-in-law Mofes, to
provide able men, fuch as fear God, men of truth, hating
covetousness, and to place fuch over the people; and
Mofes, who was as wife a ftatefman at leaſt as any in
this age, thought fit to follow that advice. Great abi-
lities without the fear of God are most dangerous inftru-
ments, when they are trufted with power. The laws
of man have thought fit, that thofe who are called to
office of truft, fhould be bound by an oath to the faith-
ful difcharge of it: but an oath is an appeal to God,
and therefore can have no influence except upon thoſe
who believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of
thoſe that ſeek him, and a puniſher of thoſe who diſo-
bey him and therefore we fee the laws themſelves are
forced to have recourfe to confcience in thefe cafes; be-
cauſe their pena'ties cannot reach the arts of cunning
men, who can find ways to be guilty of a thouſand in-
juſtices, without being difcovered, or at leaſt without
being punished. And the reafon why we find fo many
frauds, abuſes, and corruptions where any truft is con-
ferred, can be no other, than that there is fo little con-
fcience and religion left in the world; or at leaſt that
men, in their choice of inftruments, have private ends in
view, which are very different from the fervice of the
public.
282 ON THE TESTIMONY, &'c. Ser. III.
public. Befides, it is certain, that men who profeſs to
have no religion, are full as zealous to bring over profe-
lytes as any Papift or Fanatic can be. And therefore, if
thoſe who are in ftation high enough to be of influence
or example to others; if thofe (I fay) openly profefs a
contempt or disbelief of religion, they will be fure to
make all their dependents of their own principles; and
what fecurity can the public expect from fuch perfons,
whenever their interefts or their lufts come into compe-
tition with their duty? It is very poffible for a man
who hath the appearance of religion, and is a great pre-
tender to conſcience, to be wicked and a hypocrite; but
it is impoffible for a man who openly declares againſt
religion, to give any reafonable fecurity that he will not
be falfe, and cruel, and corrupt, whenever a temptation
offers, which he values more than he does the power
wherewith he was trufled. And if fuch a man doth
not betray his caufe and his mafter, it is only becaufe
the temptation was not properly offered, or the profit
was too fmall, or the danger too great. And hence it is,
that we find fo little truth or juſtice among us, becauſe
there are ſo very few, who, either in the fervice of the
public, or in common dealings with each other, do ever
look farther than their own advantage, and how to guard
themſelves against the laws of the country; which a
man may do by favour, by fecrecy, or by canning, though.
he breaks almost every law of God.
Therefore to conclude: It plainly appears, that unless
men are guided by the advice and judgment of confci-
ence founded on religion, they can give no fecurity that
they will be either good fubjects, faithful fervants of the
public, or honeft in their mutual dealings; fince there
is no other tie, through which the pride, or luft, or
avarice, or ambition of mankind will not certainly break
one time or other.
Confider what has been faid, &c.
*** In this moral effay, for I can fearce call it a fermon, the au-
thor inferts fome very firiking obfervations upon fuch falfe notions
of honour as are too prevalent in the world. [Here the particular
paffage is quoted, beginning thus, "The other falfe principle which
"Some men fet up in the place of confcience," &c. p. 277.4. 32. and
c..ding
L
Ser. IV.
ON BROTHERLY LOVE.
283
ending thus, in order to revenge it by the death of an adverſary,"
p. 278. l. 14. But you must be weary of quotations: and in ex-
cufe of thofe already made, I can only offer, that in comments upon
original authors, quotations are often the best, and perhaps the only
explanations that can fully anfwer the end propofed. I mean, that
the original fpirit is fo volatile, as not to admit of the leaft transfuf-
on. In ordinary compofitions, the effence may be extracted, and the
fubtileft parts diftilled: but Swift's fermons appeared a chymical
preparation of fo extraordinary and pen-trating a nature, that I was
refolved to fend you as much of the ethereal ipirit as might be fafe-
ly conveyed by the polt. Orray.
SERMON IV.
IN
On BROTHERLY LOVE.*
HER. xiii. I.
Let brotherly love continue.
N the early times of the gofpel, the Chriftians were
very much diſtinguiſhed from all other bodies of men,
by the great and conftant love they bore to each other;
which although it was done in obedience to the fre-
quent injunctions of our Saviour and his apoftles, yet,
I confefs, there feemeth to have been likewife a natural
reaſon, that very much promoted it. For the Chriſti-
ans then were few and ſcattered, living under perfecu-
tion by the Heathens round about them, in whofe hands
was all the civil and military power; and there is no-
thing fo apt to unite the minds and hearts of men, or to
beget love and tendernels, as a general diftrefs. The
firſt diffentions between Chriftians took their begin-
ning from the errors and herefies that arofe among them;
many of thofe herefies, fometimes extinguifhed, and
fometimes reviving, or fucceeded by others, remain to
this day; and having been made inftruments to the
pride, avarice, or ambition of ill-defigning men, by
extinguishing
This fermon is not in the first Dublia edition.
284
Ser. IV.
ON BROTHERLY LOVE.
extinguiſhing brotherly love, have been the cauſe of in-
finite calamites, as well as corruptions of faith and man-
ners, in the Chriftian world,
The laſt legacy of Chriſt was peace and mutual love
but then he foretold, that he came to fend a fword upon
the earth. The primitive Chriftians accepted the lega-
cy, and their fucceffors down to the prefent age have
been largely fulfilling his prophecy. But whatever the
practice of mankind hath been, or fill continues, there
is no duty more incumbent upon thoſe who profefs the
goſpel, than that of brotherly love; which whoever
could reſtore in any degree among men, would be an
inftrument of more good to human fociety, than ever
was, or will be done by all the ſtateſmen and politicians
in the world.
It is upon this fubject of brotherly love that I intend
to diſcourſe at prefent; and the method I obſerve ſhall
be as follows.
1. I will inquire into the causes of this great want of
brotherly love among us.
2. I will lay open the fad effects and confequences
which our animofities and mutual hatred have produc-
ed.
3. I will uſe fome motives and exhortations that may
perfuade you to embrace brotherly love, and continue
in it.
I. I fhall inquire into the caufes of this great want of
brotherly love among us.
This nation of ours hath for an hundred years paft
been infeſted by two enemies, the Papifts and Fanatics;
who each in their turns filled it with blood and flaughter,
and for a time deſtroyed both the church and govern-
ment. The memory of thefe events hath put all true
Proteftants equally upon their guard against both theſe
adverfaries; who, by confequence, do equally hate us,
The Fanatics revile us, as too nearly approaching to
Popery; and the Papifts condemn us, as bordering too
much on Fanaticiſm The Papifts, God be praifed, are,
by the wisdom of our laws, put out of all viſible poffi.
bility of hurting us; befides, their religion is fo general-
ly
Ser. IV. ON BROTHERLY LOVE.
285
ly abhorred, that they have no advocates or abettors a-
mong proteſtants to allift them. But the Fanatics are to
be confidered in another light: they have had, of late
years, the power, the luck, or the cunning to divide us
among ourſelves; they have endeavoured to reprefent all
thoſe who have been ſo bold as to oppoſe their errors and
defigns, under the character of perfons difaffected to the
government; and they have ſo far fucceeded, that now-
a-days, if a clergyman happens to preach with any zeal
and vehemence against the fin or danger of fchifm, there
will not want too many in his congregation ready
enough to cenfure him, as hot and high-flying, an in-
flamer of men's minds, an enemy to moderation, and dif.
loyal to his prince. This hath produced a formed and
ſettled divifion between thoſe who profefs the fame doc-
trine and difcipline, while they, who call themſelves
moderate, are forced to widen their bottom, by facrific-
ing their principles and their brethren to the incroach-
inents and infolence of diffenters; who are therefore
anſwerable, as a principal caufe of all that hatred and
animofity now reigning among us.
Another caufe of the great want of brotherly love,
is the weakneſs and folly of too many among you of the
lower fort, who are made the tools and inftruments of
your betters to work their defigns, wherein you have no
concern. Your numbers make you of uſe, and cunning
men take the advantage by putting words into your
mouths which you do not understand; then they fix
good or ill characters to thoſe words, as it beft ferves
their purpoſes and thus you are taught to love or hate,
you know not what or why; you often fufpect your best
friends and nearest neighbours, even your teacher him-
felf, without any reafon, if your leaders once taught you
to call him by a name which they tell you fignifieth fome
very bad thing.
A third caufe of our great want of brotherly love
feemeth to be, that this duty is not fo often infifted on
from the pulpit, as it ought to be in fuch times as theſe :
on the contrary, it is to be doubted, whether doctrines
are not fometimes delivered by an ungoverned zeal, a
defire to be diftinguiſhed, or a view of intereſt, which
produce quite different effects; when, upon occafions fet
apart
286
Ser. IV.
ON BROTHERLY LOVE.
apart to return thanks to God for fome public bleffing,
the time is employed in ftirring up one part of the con-
gregation against the other, by reprefentations of things.
and perfons, which God in his mercy forgive thofe who
are guilty of.
The laft caufe I fhall mention of the want of brother-
ly love, is that unhappy difpofition towards politics.
among the trading people, which hath been induftriouf-
ly inftilled into them. In former times, the middle and
lower fort of mankind ſeldom gained or loft by the fac-
tions of the kingdom; and therefore were little con-
cerned in them, further than as matter of talk and
amuſement but now the meaneft dealer will expect to
turn the penny by the merits of his party. He can re-
preſent his neighbour as a man of dangerous principle;
can bring a railing accufation againſt him, perhaps a cri-
minal one; and fo rob him of his livelihood, and find
his own account by that much more than if he had dif-
paraged his neighbour's goods, or defamed him as a cheat.
For fo it happens, that inftead of inquiring into the ſkill
or honefty of thoſe kinds of people, the manner is now
to inquire into their party, and to reject or encourage
them accordingly; which proceeding hath made our
people in general fuch able politicians, that all the arti-
fice, flattery, diffimulation, diligence, and dexterity in
undermining each other, which the fatirical wit of men
hath charged upon courts; together with all the rage and
violence, cruelty and injuftice, which have been ever
imputed to public affemblies; are with us (fo polite are
we grown) to be feen among our meanest traders and
artificers in the greateſt perfection. All which, as it may
be matter of fome humiliation to the wife and mighty
of this world, fo the effects thereof may perhaps in time
prove very different from what, I hope in charity, were
ever forefeen or intended.
II. I will therefore now, in the fecond place, lay open
ſome of the fad effects and confequences which our ani-
mofities and mutual hatred have produced.
And the first ill confcquence is, that our want of bro-
therly love hath almoſt driven out all fenfe of religion
from among us; which cannot well be otherwife: for
fince
Ser. IV.
287
ON BROTHERLY LOVE.
fince our faviour laid fo much weight upon his difciples
loving one another, that he gave it among his laſt in-
ſtructions; and fince the primitive Chriftians are allowed
to have chiefly propagated the faith, by the ſtrict obfer-
vance of that inftruction; it must follow, that, in propor-
tion, as brotherly love declineth, Chriftianity will do fo
too. The little religion there is in the world, hath been
obferved to refide chiefly among the middle and lower
fort of people, who are neither tempted to pride and
luxury by great riches, nor to defperate courfes by ex-
treme poverty and truly I upon that account have
thought it a happineſs, that thoſe who are under my im-
mediate care are generally of that condition. But where
party hath once made entrance, with all its confequences,
of hatred, envy, partiality, and virulence, religion can-
not long keep its hold in any ſtate or degree of life
whatſoever. For if the great men of the world have
been cenfured in all ages for mingling too little religion.
with their politics, what a havock of principles muit
they needs make in unlearned and irregular heads? of
which indeed the effects are already too viſible and me-
lancholy all over the kingdom.
Another ill confequence from our want of brotherly
love is, that it increaſeth the infolence of the Fanatics.
And this partly arifeth from a miſtaken meaning of the
word moderation; a word which hath been much abuf-
ed, and handed about for feveral years paſt. There are
too many people indifferent enough to all religion; there
are many others who diflike the clergy, and would have
them live in poverty and dependence. Both thefe forts are
much commended by the Fanatics for moderate men,
ready to put an end to our divifions, and to make a
general union among Proteftants. Many ignorant well-
meaning people are deceived by theie appearances,
trengthened with great pretences to loyalty; and theſe
occafions the Fanatics lay hold on to revile the doctrine
and difcipline of the church, and even infult and op-
prefs the clergy, where-ever their numbers or favourers
will bear them out; infomuch that one wilful refrac-
tory Fanatic hath been able to diſturb a whole parish
for many years together. But the noft moderate
and favoured divines dare not own, that the word
moderation,
288
ON BROTHERLY LOVE. Ser. IV.
moderation, with refpect to the diffenters, can be at all
applied to their religion, but is purely perfonal or pru-
dential. No good man repineth at the liberty of con-
fcience they enjoy; and perhaps a very moderate divine
may think better of their loyalty than others do; or, to
ſpeak after the manner of men, may think it neceffary,
that all Proteſtants ſhould be united againſt the common
enemy; or out of difcretion, or other reafons beſt
known to himſelf, be tender of mentioning them at all.
But still the errors of the diffenters are all fixed and de-
termined; and muft, upon demand, be acknowledged
by all the divines of our church, whether they be called,
in party-phrafe, high or low, moderate or violent. And
further, I believe it would be hard to find many mode-
rate divines, who, if their opinion were aſked, whether
diffenters fhould be trufted with power, could according
to their confciences anfwer in the affirmative: from
whence it is plain, that all the ftir which the Fanatics
have made with this word moderation, was only meant to
increase our divifions, and widen them fo far as to make
room for themſelves to get in between. And this is the
only ſcheme they ever had (except that of destroying
root and branch) for the uniting of Proteftants, they lo
much talk of
:
I fhall mention but one ill confequence more, which
attends our want of brotherly love; that it hath put an
end to all hoſpitality and friendſhip, all good correſpond-
ence and commerce between mankind. There are in-
deed fuch things as leagues and confederacies among
thoſe of the fame party; but furely God never intended,
that men fhould be fo limited in the choice of their
friends however, fo it is in town and country, in eve-
ry pariſh and ſtreet; the paftor is divided from his flock,
the father from his fon, and the houfe often divided
again itself. Men's very natures are foured and their
paflions inflamed, when they meet in party-clubs, and
fpend their time in nothing elfe but railing at the
oppo-
fite fide thus every man alive among us is encompaffed
with a million of enemies of his own country, among
which his oldeſt acquaintance, and friends, and kindred
themſelves are often of the number. Neither can people
of different parties mix together without conſtraint,
fufpicion,
Ser. IV.
285
ON BROTHERLY LOVE.
fufpicion, and jealoufy; watching every word they ſpeak,
for fear of giving offence, or elfe falling into rudeness
and reproaches: and fo leaving themſelves open to the
malice and corruption of informers, who were never more
numerous or expert in their trade. And, as a further ad-
dition to this evil, thofe very few, who, by the goodneſs
and generofity of their nature, do in their own hearts
defpife this narrow principle, of confining their friend-
fhip and efteem, their charity and good offices, to thoſe
of their own party, yet dare not diſcover their good in-
clinations, for fear of lofing their favour and intereſt.
And others, again, whom God had formed with mild
and gentle difpofitions, think it neceffary to put a force
upon their own tempers, by acting a noify, violent, ma-
licious part, as a means to be diftinguifhed. Thus hath
party got the better of the very genius and conftitution
of our people; fo that whoever reads the character of
the Engliſh in former ages, will hardly believe their pre-
fent pofterity to be of the fame nation or climate.
III. I fhall now, in the laft place, make ufe of fome
motives and exhortations, that may perfuade you to em-
brace brotherly love, and to continue in it. Let me ap-
ply myself to you of the lower fort, and defire you will
confider, when any one of you make use of fair and en-
ticing words to draw in caftomers, whether you do it
for their fakes or your own. And then for whofe fakes
do
you think it is, that your leaders are fo induftrious to
put into your heads all that party rage and virulence?
Is it not to make you the tools and inftruments, by
which they work out their own defigns? Has this fpirit
of faction been uſeful to any of you in your worldly con-
cerns, except to thoſe who have traded in whifpering,
backbiting, or informing, and wanted fkill or honefty
to thrive by fairer methods? It is no bufnefs of
yours to inquire, who is at the head of armies, or
of councils, unless you had power and kill to chufe,
neither of which is ever like to be your cafe: and
therefore to fill your heads with fears and hatred of
perfons and things of which it is impoffible you can
ever make a right judgment, or to let you at variance
with your neighbour, becauſe his thoughts are not the
VOL. I
Q
fame
290
Ser. IV,
ON BROTHERLY LOVE.
fame as yours, is not only in a very grofs manner to cheat
you of your time and quiet, but likewife to endanger
your fouls.
your
Secondly, In order to restore brotherly love, let me ear-
neftly exhort you to ftand firm in your religion, I mean
the true religion hitherto eſtabliſhed among us; without
varying in the leaft, either to Popery on the one fide, or
to Fanaticism on the other and in a particular manner
beware of that word moderation; and believe it, that
neighbour is not immediately a villain, a Papift, and a
traitor, becauſe the Fanatics and their adherents will not
allow him to be a moderate man. Nay, it is very pro-
bable, that your teacher himſelf may be a loyal, pious,
and able divine, without the leaft grain of moderation,
as the word is too frequently understood. Therefore, to
fet you right in this matter, I will lay before you the
character of a truly moderate man; and then I will give
you the deſcription of fuch an one who falfely pretend-
eth to that title.
A man truly moderate is ſteady in the doctrine and
difcipline of the church, but with a due Chriftian chari-
ty to all who diffent from it out of a principle of con-
fcience; the freedom of which, he thinketh, ought to be
fully allowed; as long as it is not abuſed; but never
truſted with power. He is ready to defend with his life
and fortune the Proteftant fucceffion, and the Proteftant
eſtabliſhed faith, againft all invecers whatfoever. He is
for giving the crown its juft pregative, and the people
their juft liberties. He hateth no man for differing
from him in political opinions; or doth he think it a
maxim infallible, That virtue fhould always attend up-
on favour, and vice upon difgrace. Theſe are fome few
lineaments in the character of a truly moderate man.
Let us now compare it with the deicription of one who
ufually palleth under that title.
A moderate man, in the new meaning of the word, is
one to whom all religion is indifferent; who, al-
though he denominates himself of the church, regard-
eth it no more than a conventicle. He perpetually rail-
eth at the body of the clergy, with exceptions only to
a very few, who, he hopeth, and probably upon falſe
grounds, are as ready to betray their rights and pro-
perties
Ser. IV. ON BROTHERLY LOVE.
291
perties as himſelf. He thinks the power of the people
can never be too great, nor that of the prince too little;
and yet this very notion he publiſheth, as his beſt argu-
ment to prove him a moft loyal ſubject. Every opinion
in government that differeth in the leaft from his, tends
directly to Popery, flavery, and rebellion. Whoever
lieth under the frown of power, can in his judgment
neither have common fenfe, common honefty, nor reli-
gion. Lastly, his devotion confifteth in drinking gib-
bets, confufion, and damnation: in profanely idolizing
the memory of one dead prince, and ungratefully tramp-
ling upon the ashes of another.
By theſe marks you will eafily diftinguiſh a truly mo-
derate man from thoſe who are commonly, but very
falfely, fo called: and while perfons thus qualified are fo
numerous and fo noify, fo full of zeal and induftry to
gain profelytes, and ſpread their opinions among the peo-
ple, it cannot be wondered that there fhould be fo little
brotherly love left among us.
Lajily, It would probably contribute to reftore fome
degree of brotherly love, if we would but confider, that
the matter of thole difputes which infl me us to this
degree, doth not in its own nature at all concern the
generality of mankind. Indeed, as to thoſe who have
been great gainers or lofers by the changes of the world,
the cafe is different; and to preach moderation to the
firit, and patience to the laft, would perhaps be to lit-
tle purpoſe. But what is that to the bulk of the peo-
ple, who are not properly concerned in the quarrel, al-
though evil inftruments have drawn them into it? For
if the reaſonable men on both fides were to confer opini-
ons, they would find neither religion, loyalty, nor in-
tereſt, are at all affected in this difpute. Not religion,
becauſe the members of the church on both fides pro-
fels to agree in every article: not loyalty to our prince;
which is pretended to by one party as much as the
other, and therefore can be no ſubject for debate: not
interest, for trade and induftry lie open to all; and,
what is further, concerneth thofe only who have ex-
pectations from the public. So that the body of the
people, if they knew their own good, might yet live a-
micably together, and to leave their betters quarrel a-
02
mong
292
Ser. V.
THE DIFFICUTY OF
among themſelves, who might alfo probably foon come
to a better temper, if they were lefs feconded and ſup-
ported by the poor deluded multitude.
I have now done with my text; which I confess to
have treated in a manner more fuited to the preſent
times, than to the nature of the fubject in general. That
I have not been more particular in explaining the ſeve-
ral parts and properties of this great duty of brotherly
love, the apoftle to the Theffalonians will plead my ex-
cufe. Touching brotherly love, (iaith he,) ye need not that
I write unto you; for ye yourselves are taught of God to love
•ne another. So that nothing remains to add, but our
prayers to God, that he would pleafe to restore and
continue this great duty of brotherly love or charity
among us, the very bond of peace and of all virtues.
Nov. 29. 1717.
SERMON V.
The difficulty of knowing one's felf. *
2 KINGS viii. 13. part of it.
And Hazael ſaid, But what, is thy jervant a dug, that he
fhould do this great thing?
WE
E have a very fignal inſtance of the deceitfulness
of the heart reprefented to us in the perſon of
Hazael; who was fent to the prophet Elifha, to inquire
of
* The manufcript title-page of the following fermon being loft,
and no memorandums writ upon it, as there were upon the others;
when and where it was preached, made the editor doubtful whether
he fhould print it as the Dean's or not. But its being found amongst
the fame papers; and the hand, although writ fomewhat better,
having a great fimilitude to the Dean's, made him willing to lay it
before the public, that they might judge whether the ftyle and man-
mer alfo do not render it ſtill more probable to be his. Dublin editie
"I fhall take no notice of this fermon, as it is evidently not
compoſed by the Dean. Orrery,
Ser. V. KNOWING ONE'S SELF.
293
of the Lord, concerning his mafter the King of Syria's
recovery For the man of God having told him that
the King might recover from the diforder he was then
labouring under, began to fet and faſten his countenance
upon him of a fudden, and to break out into the moit
violent expreffions of forrow, and a deep concern for it:
whereupon, when Hazael, full of thame and confufion,
afked, I by veepeth my lord? he anfwered, Because I know
the ecil that thou wilt do unto the children of Ijracl: their
ftrong holds wilt thou jet on fire, and their young men wilt
that fly with the word, and wilt dafh their children, and
rip up their women with child. Thus much did the man
of God fay and know of him, by a light darted into his
mind from heaven. But Hazael, not knowing himſelf
fo well as the other did, was ſtartled and amazed at the
relation, and would not believe it poffible, that a man of
his temper could ever run over into fuch enormous in-
ſtances of cruelty and inhumanity: What, fays he, is thy
fervant a dog that he should do this great thing?
And yet, for all this, it is highly probable, that he was
then that very man he could not imagine himſelf to be:
for we find him, on the very next day after his return,
in a very treacherous and difloyal manner, murdering his
own maiter, and ufurping his kingdom; which was but
a prologue to the fad tragedy which he afterwards acted
upon the people of Ifrael.
And now the cafe is but very little better with moſt
men, than it was with Hazael. However it cometh to
paſs, they are wonderfully unacquainted with their own
temper and difpofition, and know very little of what
paffeth within them for of fo many proud, ambitious,
revengeful, envying, and ill-natured perfons that are
in the world, where is there one of them, who, al-
though he hath all the fymptoms of the vice appearing
upon every occafion, can look with fuch an impartial
eye upon himſelf, as to believe that the imputation
thrown upon him is not altogether groundleſs and un-
fair? who, if he were told, by men of a difcerning fpi-
rit and a strong conjecture, of all the evil and abfurd
things which that falfe heart of his would at one time
or other betray him into, would not believe as little,
and
294
Ser. V.
THE DIFFICULTY OF
and wonder as much, as Hazael did before him? Thus,
for inftance, tell an angry perfon, that he is weak and
impotent, and of no confiftency of mind; tell him, that
fuch or fuch a little accident, which he may then defpife,
and think much below a paffion, fhall hereafter make
him ſay and do ſeveral abfurd, indifcreet, and miſbecom-
ing things he may perhaps own, that he hath a fpirit
of refentment within him, that will not let him be im-
pofed on; but he fondly imagines, that he can lay a be-
coming reſtraint upon it when he pleaſes, although it is
ever running away with him into fome indecency or
other.
Therefore, to bring down the words of my text to
our preſent occafion, I ſhall endeavour, in a further pro-
fecution of them, to evince the great neceflity of a nice
and curious inſpection into the feveral receffes of the
heart; that being the fureft and the ſhorteſt method that
a wicked man can take to reform himſelf. For let us
but ftop the fountain, and the ftreams will ſpend and
waſte themſelves away in a very little time: but if we go
about, like children, to raiſe a bank, and to ftop the cur-
rent, not taking notice all the while of the fpring which
continually feedeth it; when the next flood of a temp-
tation rifeth, and breaketh in upon it, then we ſhall find,
that we have begun at the wrong end of our duty, and
that we are very little more the better for it, than if we
had fat flill, and made no advances at all.
But, in order to a clearer explanation of the point, I
fhall ſpeak to thefe following particulars.
1. By endeavouring to prove, from particular inftances,
that man is generally the moſt ignorant creature in the
world of himſelf.
2. By inquiring into the grounds and reaſons of this
ignorance.
3. And lastly, By propofing feveral advantages that do
molt affuredly attend a due improvement in the know-
ledge of ourselves.
I. First then, To prove that man is generally the moit
ignorant creature in the world of himfelf:
To purlue the heart of man through all the inftances
of
Ser. V.
295
KNOWING ONE'S SELF.
:
of life, in all its feveral windings and turnings, and un-
der that infinite variety of fhapes and appearances which
it putteth on, would be a difficult and almoft impoffible
undertaking ſo that I fhall confine myfelf to fuch as
have a nearer reference to the prefent occafion, and do,
upon a clofer view, fhew themfelves through the whole
buſineſs of repentance. For we all know what it is to
repent; but whether he repenteth him truly of his fins or
not, who can know it?
Now, the great duty of repentance is chiefly made up
of theſe two parts; a hearty forrow for the follies and
miscarriages of the time paft, and a full purpoſe and re-
folution of amendment for the time to come. And now,
to fhew the falſeneſs of the heart in both theſe parts of.
repentance. And,
Firſt, As to a hearty forrow for the fins and mifcarri-
ages of the time paft: Is there a more ufual thing than
for a man to impofe upon himfelf by putting on a grave
and demure countenance, by cafting a fevere look into
his paft conduct, and making fome few pious and devout
reflections upon it, and then to believe that he hath re-
pented to an excellent purpofe, without ever letting it
ſtep forth into practice, and fhew itfelf in a holy con-
verfation? Nay, fome perfons do carry the deceit a lit-
tle higher; who, if they can but bring themfelves to
weep for their 'fins, are then full of an ill-grounded
confidence and fecurity; never confidering, that all
this may prove to be no more than the very garb and
outward drefs of a contrite heart, which another heart,
as hard as the nether millstone, may as well put on.
For tears and fighs, however in fome perfons they may
be decent and commendable expreflions of a godly for-
row, are neither neceffary, nor infallible figns of a true
and unfeigned repentance: not neceffary, becauſe fome-
times, and in fome perfons, the inward grief and an-
guifh of the mind may be too big to be expreffed by fo
little a thing as a tear; and then it turneth its edge in-
wards upon the mind; and, like thofe wounds of the bo-
dy which bleed inwardly, it generally proves the moſt
fatal and dangerous to the whole body of fin: not in-
fallible, becauſe a very finall portion of forrow may
make fome tender difpofitions melt, and break out into
tears;
1
296
THE DIFFICULTY OF Ser. V.
tears; or a man may perhaps weep at parting with his
fins, as he would to bid the laft farewel to an old friend'
that he was fure never to fee again.
But there is Rill a more pleafant cheat in this affair,
that when we find a deadnefs, and a ſtrange kind of un-
aptnefs and indifpofition to all impreffions of religion,
and that we cannot be as truly forry for our fins as we
ſhould be, we then pretend to be forry that we are not
more forry for them; which is not lefs abfurd and irra-
tional, than that a man fhould pretend to be very angry
at a thing, becauſe he did not know how to be angry
at all.
But after all, what is wanting in this part of repent-
ance, we expect to make it up in the next; and to that
purpoſe we put on a refolution of amendment, which
we take to be as firm as a houfe built upon a rock; ſo
that let the floods arife, and the winds blow, and the
ftreams beat vehemently upon it, nothing fhall ſhake it
into ruin and diforder. We doubt not, upon the ftrength
of this refolve, to ftand faft and unmoved amidst the
ftorm of a temptation; and do firmly believe, at the
time we make it, that nothing in the world will ever be
able to make us commit thofe fins over again, which we
have fo firmly refolved against.
'T'hus many a time have we come to the facrament of
the Lord's fupper, with a full purpofe of amendment, and
with as full a perfuafion of putting that fame purpoſe in-
to practice; and yet have we not all as often broke that
good purpoſe, and falfified that fame perfuafion, by ſtart-
ing afide, like a broken bow, into thofe very fins which
we then fo folemnly and fo confidently declared again ft?
Whereas, had but any other perfon entered with us
into a vow fo folemn, that he had taken the holy facra-
ment upon it, I believe had he but once deceived us by
breaking in upon the vow, we ſhould hardly ever after
be prevailed upon to trust that man again, although we
till continue to trust our own hearts, againſt reafon and
against experience.
This indeed is a dangerous deceit enough; and will of
courſe betray all thoſe well- meaning perſons into fin and
folly, who are apt to take religion for a much eaſier
thing
Ser. V.
297
KNOWING ONE'S SELF.
thing than it is. But this is not the only mistake we
are apt to run into: we do not only think fometimes
that we can do more than we can do, but fometimes
that we are incapable of doing leſs: An error of another
kind indeed, but not lefs dangerous, arifing from a diffi-
dence and falſe humility; for how much a wicked man
can do in the bufinefs of religion, if he would but do his
beft, is very often more than he can tell.
Thus nothing is more common, than to ſee a wicked
man running headlong into fin and folly, againſt his rea-
fon, against his religion, and against his God. Tell him,
that what he is going to do, will be an infinite difparage-
ment to his understanding, which at another time he
fetteth no fmall value upon; tell him, that it will black-
en his reputation, which he had rather die for than lofe;
tell him, that the pleaſure of the fin is fhort and tran-
fient, and leaveth a vexatious kind of a fting behind it,
which will very hardly be drawn forth; tell him, that
this is one of thoſe things for which God will moſt fure-
ly bring him to judgment, which he pretendeth to be-
lieve with a full affurance and perfuafion: and yet, for
all this, he fhutteth his eyes against all conviction, and
rutheth into the fin, like a horfe into the battle; as if he
had nothing left to do, but, like a fily child, to wink
hard, and to think to eſcape a certain and an infinite mil-
chief, only by endeavouring not to fee it.
And now to fhew that the heart hath given in a falſe
report of the temptation, we may learn from this, that
the fame weak man would refilt and mafter the fame
powerful temptation, upon confiderations of infinitely
lefs value than thofe which religion offereth, nay, ſuch
vile confiderations that the grace of God cannot, with-
out blafphemy, be fuppofed to add any manner of force
and efficacy to them. Thus, for instance, it would be
an hard matter to drefs up a fin in ſuch ſoft and tempt-
ing circumſtances, that a truly covetous man would not
refift for a confiderable fum of money; when neither
the hopes of heaven nor the fears of hell could make an
impreflion upon him before. But can any thing be a
furer indication of the deceitfulness of the heart, than
thus to fhew more courage, refolution, and activity, in
0 5
an
298
Ser. V
THE DIFFICULTY OF
an ill cauſe, than it doth in a good one? and to exert it
felf to better purpoſe, when it is to ferve its own pride,
or luft, or revenge, or any other paffion, than when it is
to ſerve God upon the motives of the gofpel, and upon
all the arguments that have ever been made ufe of to
bring men over to religion and a good life? And thus
having fhewn that a man is wonderfully apt to deceive
and impoſe upon himſelf, in paffing through the feveral
ftages of that great duty, repentance, I proceed now,
in the
II. Second place, To inquire into the grounds and
reafons of this ignorance, and to fhew whence it cometh
to paſs, that a man, the only creature in the world that
can reflect and look into himſelf, fhould know fo little of
what paffeth within him, and be fo very much unac-
quainted even with the ftanding difpofitions and com-
plexions of his own heart. The prime rcafon of it is,
becauſe we ſo very feldom converſe with ourſelves, and
take fo little notice of what paffeth within us.
For a
man can no more know his own heart than he can know
his own face, any other way than by reflection: he may
as well tell over every feature of the fmaller portions of
his face without the help of a looking-glafs, as he can tell
all the inward bents and tendencies of the foul, thoſe
ftanding features and lineaments of the inward man, and
know all the various changes that this is liable to, from
cuftom, from paffion, and from opinion, without a very
frequent ufe of looking within himſelf.
For our paffions and inclinations are not always upon
the wing, and always moving towards their refpective
objects; but retire now and then into the more dark and
hidden recefles of the heart, where they lie concealed for
a while, until a freſh occafion calls them forth again :
fo that not every tranfient, oblique glance upon the
mind, can bring a man into a thorough knowledge of all
its ftrengths and weakneffes; for a man may fometimes
turn the eye of the mind inward upon itſelf, as he may
behold his natural face in a glafs, and go away, and
Atraight forget what manner of man he was.
man muſt rather fit down, and unravel every action of
the past day into all its circumftances and particularities,
But a
and
Ser. V.
299
KNOWING ONE'S SELF
and obferve how every little thing moved and affected.
him, and what manner of impreffion it made upon his
heart: this done, with that frequency and carefulneſs
which the importance of the duty doth require, would:
in a fhort time bring him into a near and intimate ac-
quaintance with himſelf.
But when men, inftead of this, do país away months.
and years in a perfect lumber of the mind, without once
awaking it, it is no wonder they ſhould be fo very igno-
rant of themſelves, and know very little more of what
paffeth within them, than the very beafts which perish.
But here it may not be amifs to inquire into the reaſons
why most men have fo little converfation with them-
felves.
And, if, Becauſe this reflection is a work and labour ·
of the mind, and cannot be performed without fome
pain and difficulty. For before a man can reflect upon.
himfelf, and look into his heart with a ſteady eye, he
muft contract his fight, and collect all his fcattered and.
roving thoughts into fome order and compafs, that he
may be able to take a clear and diftinct view of them ;.
he muft retire from the world for a while, and be unat-
tentive to all impreffions of fenfe and how hard and.
painful a thing inuft it needs be to a man of paffion and
infirmity, amidſt ſuch a croud of objects that are conti-
nually striking upon the fenfe, and foliciting the affecti-
ons, not to be moved and interrupted by one or other of
them! But,
zdly, Another reafon why we fo feldom converfe with:
ourfelves, is becauſe the bufinefs of the world taketh.
up all our time, and leaveth us no portion of it to ſpend
upon this great work and labour of the mind. Thus
twelve or fourteen years pafs away before we can well.
difcern good from evil; and of the reft. fo much goeth.
away in fleep, fo much in the ordinary bufinefs of life,.
and fo much in the proper bufinefs of our callings, that.
we have none to lay out upon the more ferious and re-
ligious employments. Every man's life is an imperfect
fort of a circle, which he repeateth and runneth over
every day; he hath a fet of thoughts, defires, and incli-
nations, which return upon him in their proper time and
order, and will very hardly be laid aſide to make room :
for:
300
Ser. V.
THE DIFFICULTY OF
:
for any thing new and uncommon fo that call upon
him when you pleaſe, to fet about the ſtudy of his own
heart, and you are fure to find him pre-engaged; either
he hath fome bufinefs to do, or iome diverfion to take,
fome acquaintance that he muft vifit, or fome company
that he muſt entertain, or fome croſs accident hath put
him out of humour, and unfitted him for ſuch a grave
employment. And thus it comes to pafs, that a man can
never find leiſure to look into himſelf, becauſe he doth
not fet apart fome portion of the day for that very pur-
pofe, but foolishly deferreth it from one day to another,
until his glafs is almoft run out, and he is called upon to
give a miferable account of himself in the other world.
But,
3dly, Another reafon why a man doth not more fie-
quently converfe with himſelf, is, becauſe fuch a con-
verfation with his own heart may difcover fome vice or
fome infirmity lurking within him, which he is very un-
willing to believe himself guilty of. For can there be
a more ungrateful thing to a man, than to find, that up-
on a nearer view, he is not that perfon he took himſelf
to be? that he hath neither the courage, nor the honef-
ty, nor the piety, nor the humility, that he dreamed he
had that a very little pain, for instance, putteth him
out of patience, and as little pleaſure fofteneth and dif-
armeth him into eafe and wantonnefs? that he hath
been at more pains, and labour, and coft, to be reveng-
ed of an enemy, than to oblige the best friend he hath
in the world? that he cannot bring himfelf to fay his
prayers without a great deal of reluctancy; and when
he doth fay them, the ſpirit and fervour of devotion eva-
porate in a very fhort time, and he can fcarcely hold
out a prayer of ten lines, without a number of idle and
impertinent, if not vain and wicked thoughts coming
into his head? Thefe are very unwelcome difcoveries
that a man may make of himfelf; fo that it is no won-
der that every one, who is already fluſhed with a good
opinion of himself, fhould rather ftudy how to run away
from it, than how to converfe with his own heart.
But further, If a man were both able and willing to
retire into his own heart, and to fet apart fome portion
of
Ser. V.
301
KNOWING ONE'S SELF.
of the day for that very purpofe; yet he is still difabled
from paiſing a fair and impartial judgment upon himſelf,
by feveral difficulties, arifing paitly from prejudice and
prepoffeffion, partly from the lower appetites and inclina-
tions. And,
1st, That the bufinefs of prepoffeffion may lead and
betray a man into a falfe judgment of his own heart.
For we may obferve, that the firft opinion we take up of
any thing, or of any perfon, doth generally ſtick cloſe to
us; the nature of the mind being fuch, that it cannot
but defire, and confequently endeavour, to have fome
certain principles to go upon, fomething fixed and im-
moveable, whereon it may reft and fupport itſelf. And
hence it cometh to pass, that fome perfons are with fo
much difficulty brought to think well of a man they
have once entertained an ill opinion of; and, perhaps,
that too for a very abfurd and unwarrantable reafon.
But how much more difficult then muft it be, for a man
who taketh up a fond opinion of his own heart, long be-
fore he hath either years or fenfe enough to underſtand
it, either to be perfuaded out of it by himſelf, whom he
loveth fo well, or by another, whofe intereft or diverfion
it may be to make him ashamed of himſelf? Then,
zdly, As to the difficulties arifing from the inferior
appetites and inclinations, let any man look into his own
heart, and obferve, in how different a light, and under-
what different complexions, any two fins, of equal
turpitude and malignity, do appear to him, if he hath
but a ftrong inclination to the one, and none at all to
the other. That which he hath an inclination to, is al-
ways dreffed up in all the falfe beauty that a fond and
bufy imagination can give it; the other appeareth naked.
and deformed, and in all the true circumftances of folly
and difhonour. Thus, ftealing is a vice that few gentle-
men are inclined to; and they juftly think it below the
dignity of a man, to ftoop to fo bafe and low a fin: but
no principle of honour, no workings of the mind and.
confcience, not the ftill voice of mercy, not the dread-
ful call of judgment, nor any confiderations what-
ever, can put a stop to that violence and oppreffion,
that pride and ambition, that revelling and wantonneſs,
which
302
THE DIFFICULTY OF Ser. V,
which we every day meet with in the world. Nay, it is
eafy to obſerve very different thoughts in a man, of the
fin that he is moft fond of, according to the different
ebbs and flows of his inclination to it. For as foon as
the appetite is alarmed, and ſeizeth upon the heart, a lit-
tle cloud gathereth about the head, and ſpreadeth a kind
of darkneſs over the face of the foul, whereby it is hin-
dered from taking a clear and diftinct view of things:
but no fooner is the appetite tired and fatiated, but the
fame cloud paffeth away like a fhadow, and a new light
Ipringing up in the mind of a fudden, the man feeth
much more, both of the folly and of the danger of the
fin, than he did before.
And thus having done with the feveral reafons, why
man, the only creature in the world that can reflect and
look into himself, is fo very ignorant of what paffeth
within him, and fo much unacquainted with the ſtanding
difpofitions and complexions of his own heart; I proceed
now, in the
III. Third and laft place, to lay down feveral advan-
tages, that do most affuredly attend a due improvement in
the knowledge of ourfelves. And,
1. One great advantage is, that it tendeth very much
to mortify and humble a man into a modest and low
opinion of himself. For let a man take a nice and curious
infpection into all the feveral regions of the heart, and
obferve every thing irregular and amifs within him; for
inftance, how narrow and short-fighted a thing is the
underſtanding! upon how little reafon do we take up an
opinion, and upon how much lefs fometimes do we lay
it down again! how weak and falfe ground do we often.
walk upon, with the biggest confidence and affurance;
and how tremulous and doubtful we are very often,
where no doubt is to be made! again, how wild and
impertinent, how bufy and incoherent a thing is the
imagination, even in the best and wifeft men; infomuch
that every man may be faid to be mad, but every man
doth not fhew it. Then, as to the paffions, how noisy,
how turbulent, and how tumultuous are they! how ea-
fily are they ftirred and fet a-going; how eager and hot
in the purfuit, and what itrange diforder and confuſion
dọ
Ser. V.
303
KNOWING ONE'S SELF.
do they throw a man into, fo that he can neither think,
nor speak, nor act, as he ſhould do, while he is under
the dominion of any one of them.
Thus, let every man look with a fevere and impartial
eye into all the diftinct regions of the heart; and, no
doubt, ſeveral deformities and irregularities that he never
thought of, will open and difclofe themfelves upon fo
near a view; and rather make the man afhamed of him-
felf, than proud.
2. A due improvement in the knowledge of ourfelves,
doth certainly fecure us from the fly and infinuating af
faults of flattery. There is not in the world a bafer, and
more hateful thing, than flattery. It proceedeth from
ſo much falſeneſs and infincerity in the man that giveth
it, and often difcovereth fo much weaknels and folly in
the man that taketh it, that it is hard to tell which of
the two is moft to be blamed. Every man of common
fenfe can demonftrate in fpeculation, and may be fully
convinced, that all the praifes and commendations of
the whole world can add no more to the real and in-
trinfic value of a man, than they can add to his ftature.
And yet, for all this, men of the beft fenfe and piety,
when they come down to the practice, cannot forbear
thinking much better of themſelves, when they have the
good fortune to be fpoken well of by other perfons.
But the meaning of this abfurd proceeding feemeth to
be no other than thi:: There are few men that have fo
intimate an acquaintance with their own hea ts, as to
know their own real worth, and how to fet a juſt rate
upon themſelves; and therefore they do not know, but
that he, who praifes them molt, may be molt in the right
of it. For, no doubt, if a man were ignorant of the true
value of a thing he loved as well as himfelf, he would
meaſure the worth of it according to the efteem of him
who biddeth moft for it, rather than of him that biddeth
lefs.
Therefore the most infallible way to difentangle a man
from the fnares of flattery, is to confult and study his
own heart; for whoever does that well, will hardly be
fo abfurd, as to take another man's word, before his own.
fenfe and experience,
3. Another
304
THE DIFFICULTY OF Ser. T.
3. Another advantage from this kind of ftudy, is this,
that it teacheth a man how to behave himſelf patiently,
when he has the ill fortune to be cenfured and abuſed by
other people. For a man who is thoroughly acquaint-
ed with his own heart, doth already know much more
evil of himſelf than any body elfe can tell him; and
when any one fpeaketh ill of him, he rather thanketh
God, that he can fay no worſe. For could his enemy
but look into the dark and hidden recefles of the heart,
he confidereth what a number of impure thoughts he
might there fee brooding and hovering like a dark cloud
upon the face of the foul; that there he might take a
profpect of the fancy, and view it acting over the ſeveral
fcenes of pride, of ambition, of envy, of luft, and re-
venge; that there he might tell how often a vitious in-
clination hath been refrained, for no other reaſon, but
just to fave the man's credit or intereft in the world; and
how many unbecoming ingredients have entered into
the compofition of his bett actions. And now, what
man in the whole world would be able to bear fo fevere
a telt, to have every thought and inward motion of the
heart laid open and expoted to the view of his enemies?
But,
4. And laftiv, another advantage of this kind is that it
maketh men lefs fevere upon other people's faults, and
lefs bufy and induftrious in fpreading them. For a man
employed at home, infpecting into his own failings, hath
not leifure enough to take notice of every little ſpot and
blemiſh that lieth fcattered upon others: or, if he can-
not eſcape the fight of them, he always paffes the moft
eaſy and favourable conftruction upon them. Thus, for
inftance, does the ill he knoweth of a man proceed from
an unhappy temper and conftitution of body? he then
confidereth with himſelf, how hard a thing it is, not to
be borne down with the current of the blood and ſpirits;
and accordingly layeth fome part of the blame upon the
weakness of human nature, for he hath felt the force and
rapidity of it within his own breaſt; though perhaps, in
another instance, he remembereth how it rageth and fwel-
leth by oppofition; and though it may be reftrained, or
diverted for a while, yet it can hardly ever be totally
fubdued.
Ora
Ser. V.
305
KNOWING ONE'S Self.
Or, hath the man finned out of cuftom; he then, from
his own experience, traceth a habit into the very first
rife and imperfect beginnings of it; and can tell, by how
flow and infenfible advances it creepeth upon the heart;
how it worketh itſelf by degrees into the very frame and
texture of it, and fo paffeth into a fecond nature; and
confequently he hath a juft fenfe of the great difficulty
for him to learn to do good, who hath been long accuf-
tomed to do evil.
Or, laftly, hath a falfe opinion betrayed him into a fin?
he then calleth to mind what wrong apprehenfions he
hath had of fome things himfelf; how many opinions.
that he once made no doubt of, he hath, upon a ſtricter
examination, found to be doubtful and uncertain; how
many more to be unreasonable and abfurd. He know-
eth further, that there are a great many more opinions
that he hath never yet examined into at all, and which,
however, he ſtill believeth, for no other reaſon, but be-
cauſe he hath believed them fo long already without a
reafon. Thus, upon every occafion, a man intimately
acquainted with himlelf, confulteth his own heart, and
maketh every man's cafe to be his own, (and fo puts the
moſt favourable interpretation upon it.) Let every man
therefore look into his own heart, before he beginneth to
abuſe the reputation of another, and then he will hardly
be fo abfurd, as to throw a dart that will ſo certainly
rebound, and wound himſelf. And thus, through the
whole courſe of his converfation, let him keep an eye
upon that one great and comprehenfive rule of Chriftian
duty, on which hangeth not only the law and the pro-
phets, but the very life and fpirit of the goſpel too;
Whatſoever ye would that men ſhould de unto you, do ye even
So unto them. Which rule that we may all duly obferve,
by throwing afide all fcandal and detraction, all ſpite
and rancour, all rudeness and contempt, all rage and
violence, and whatever tendeth to make converfation and
commerce either uneafy or troubleſome, may the God
of peace grant, for Jefus Chrift's fake, &c.
Confider what hath been faid, and the Lord give you
a right underſtanding in all things. To whom, with the
Son, and the Holy Ghoſt, be all honour and glory, now
and for ever.
A PRO-
[ 306 ]
A PROPOSAL humbly offered to the PARLIA-
MENT, for the more effectual preventing
the further growth of POPERY.
With the defcription and ufe of the ECCLESIASTICAL
THERMOMETER,
Very proper for all families:
Infani fanus nomen ferat, æquus iniqui,
Ultra quam fatis eft, virtutem fi petat ipfum.
H
HOR.
Aving, with great forrow of heart, obferved the in-
creaſe of Popery among us of late years, and how
ineffectual the penal laws and ftatutes of this realm have
been, for near forty years laſt paſt, towards reclaiming
tha blind and deluded people from their errors, not-
withstanding the good intentions of the legiflators, and
the pious and unwearied labours of the many learned di-
vincs of the eltabliſhed church, who have preached to
them without ceafing, although hitherto without fucceſs:
Having alfo remarked, in his Grace's fpeech to both
houfes of parliament, moft kind offers of his Grace's
good offices, towards obtaining fuch further laws as
hall be thought neceffary towards bringing home the
faid wandering fheep into the fold of the church; as al-
fo a good difpofition in the parliament to join in the
laudable work, towards which every good Proteſtant
ought to contribute at least his advice: I think it a pro-
per time to lay before the public a fcheme which was
writ fome years fince, and laid by to be ready on a fit oc-
cafion.
That whereas the feveral penal laws and ftatutes now
in being againſt Papifts, have been found ineffectual, and
rather tend to confirm than reclaim men from their er-
rors, as, calling a man coward, is a ready way to make
him fight; it is humbly propofed,
I. That
A PROPOSAL, &c.
307
I. That the faid penal laws and ftatutes against Pa-
pifts, except the law of Gavelkind, and that which dif
qualifies them for places, be repealed, abrogated, annul-
led, deſtroyed, and obliterated, to all intents and pur-
pofes.
II. That, in the room of the faid penal laws and fta-
tutes, all ecclefiaftical jurifdiction be taken from out of
the hands of the clergy of the eſtabliſhed church, and the
fame be vefted in the feveral Popifh archbishops, bifhops,
deans, and archdeacons ; nevertheleſs fo as fuch jurif-
diction be exerciſed over perfons of the Popish religion
only.
III. That a Popish priest fhall be fettled by law in
each and every pariſh in Ireland.
IV. That the faid Popish prieſt fhall, on taking the
oath of allegiance to his Majefty, be intitled to a tenth
part or tithe of all things tithable in Ireland, belonging
to the Papifts within their refpective parifhes; yet fo as
fuch grant of tithes to fuch Popish priests fhall not be
conſtrued, in law or equity, to hinder the Proteftant cler-
gyman of fuch parifh from receiving and collecting his
tithes, in like manner as he does at prefent.
V. That, in cafe of detention or fubtraction of tithes
by any Papift, the parish-pricft do have his remedy at
law, in any of his Majelly's courts, in the fame manner
as now practiſed by the clergy of the cftabliſhed church; to-
gether with all other ecclefiaftical dues. And, for their
further difcovery, to vex their people at law, it might
not be amifs to oblige the Solicitor-General, or fome
other able King's counfel, to give his advice or affiftance
to fuch priests gratis, for which he might receive a falary
out of the barrack fund, military contingencies, or concor-
datum; having obferved the exceedings there better paid
than of the army, or any other branch of the cftabliſh-
ment; and I would have no delay in payment in a mat-
ter of this importance.
VI. That the archbishops and bifh ps have power to
vifit the inferior clergy, and to extort proxies, exhibits,
and all other perquilites ufual in Pepijh and Proteftant
countries.
VII. That the convocation having been found by
long
308
A PROPOSAL FOR
long experience, to be hurtful to true religion, be for ever
hereafter abolished among Proteſtants.
VIII That, in the room thereof, the Popish archbi-
fhops, bishops, priests, deans, archdeacons, and proctors,
have liberty to affemble themſelves in convocation, and
be impowered to make fuch canons as they fhall think
proper for the government of the Papifts in Ireland.
IX. And, that the fecular arm being neceffary to in-
force obedience to ecclefiaftical cenfure, the fheriffs, con-
ftables, and other officers, be commanded to execute the
decrees and fentences of the faid Popish convocation, with
fecrecy and difpatch; or, in lieu thereof, they may be
at liberty to erect an inquifition, with proper officers of
their own.
X. That, as Papifts declare themiclves converts to
the eſtabliſhed church, all ſpiritual power over them fhall
ceafe.
XI. That as foon as any whole pariſh ſhall renounce
the Popish religion, the prieſt of ſuch pariſh, ſhall for
his good fervices, have a penfion of zool. per annum ſet-
tled on him for life, and that he be, from fuch time,
exempt from preaching and praying, and other duties of
his function, in like manner as Proteftant divines, with
equal incomes, are at preſent.
XII. That each biſhop, fo foon as his dioceſe ſhall be-
come Proteſtants, be called My Lord, and have a penfion
of two thousand pounds per annum during life.
XIII. That when a whole province fhall be reclaimed,
the archbiſhop ſhall be called His Grace, and have a pen-
fion of three thouſand pounds per annum, during life, and
be admitted a member of his Majeſty's moſt honouralle
privy council.
The good confequences of this fcheme (which will
execute itſelf without murmurings against the govern-
ment) are very vifible. I fhall mention a few of the most
obvious.
I The giving the priest a right to the tithe would
produce law-fuits and wrangles; his Reverence, being
intitled to a certain income at all events, would confider
himfelf as a legal incumbent, and behave accordingly, and
apply himſelf more to fleecing than feeding his flock.
His neceffary attendance on the courts of justice would
leave
PREVENTING POPERY.
309
leave his people without a fpiritual guide; by which
means Proteftant curates, who have no fuits about tithes,
would be furniſhed with proper opportunities for making
converts, which is very much wanted.
II. The erecting a ſpiritual juriſdiction amongst them,
would, in all probability, drive as many out of that com-
munion, as a due execution of fuch jurifdiction hath hi-
therto drove from amongst ourſelves.
III. An inquifition would ſtill be a further improve-
ment, and most certainly would expedite the converfion
of Papiſts.
I know it may be objected to this fcheme, and with
fome fhew of reaſon, That, ſhould the Popiſh princes
abroad purſue the fame methods, with regard to their
Proteftant fubjects, the Proteftant intereft in Europe
would thereby be confiderably weakened. But, as we
have no reaſon to fufpect Popish counfels will ever pro-
duce fo much moderation, I think the objection ought
to have but little weight.
A due execution of this fcheme will foon produce many
converts from Popery nevertheleſs to the end it may
be known when they fhall be of the true church, I have
ordered a large parcel of ecclefiaftical or church thermo-
meters to be made, one of which is to be hung up in each
pariſh-church; the defcription and uſe of which take
as follows, in the words of the ingenious Ifaac Bicker-
ſtaff, Eſq;
T
HE church-thermometer, which I am now to treat
of, is ſuppoſed to have been invented in the reign
of Henry VIII. about the time when that religious
prince put fome to death for owning the Pope's fupre-
macy, and others for denying tranfubftantiation. I do
not find, however, any great ufe made of this inftru-
ment, till it fell into the hand of a learned and vigilant
prieft or minifter, (for he frequently wrote himſelf both
the one and the other,) who was fome time vicar of
Bray. This gentleman lived in his vicarage to a good
old age; and, after having feen feveral fucceffions of his
neighbouring clery, either burnt or banished, departed
this life with the fatisfaction of having never deferted his
flock, and died vicar of Bray. As this glafs was firſt
defigned
310
A PROPOSAL FOR
defigned to calculate the different degrees of heat in re-
ligion, as it raged in Popery, or as it cooled and grew
temperate in the reformation, it was marked at feveral
diſtances, after the manner our ordinary thermometer is
to this day, viz. Extreme het, Sultry hot, Very hot, Hot,
Warm, Temperate, Cold, Juß freezing, Froft, Hard frost,
Great froft, Extreme cold.
It is well known,1 hat Torricellius, the inventor of the
common weather-glafs, made the experiment of a long
tube which held thirty two foot of water; and that a
more modern virtuofo finding fuch a machine altogether
unwieldly and uſeleſs, and confidering that thirty-two
inches of quickfilver weighed as much as fo many foot
of water in a tube of the fame circumference, invented
that fizeable inftrument which is now in ufe. After
this manner, that I might adapt the thermometer I am
now ſpeaking of to the prefent conftitution of our church,
as divided into High and Low, I have made ſome necef-
fary variations, both in the tube, and the fluid it con-
tains. In the first place, I ordered a tube to be caſt in a
planetary hour, and took care to feal it hermetically,
when the fun was in conjunction with Saturn. I then
took the proper precautions about the fluid, which is a
compound of two different liquors; one of them a fpirit
drawn out of a ſtrong heady wine, the other a particu-
lar fort of rock-water, colder than ice, and clearer than
cryftal. The ſpirit is of a red, fiery colour; and iù ve-
ry apt to ferment, that, unless it be mingled with a pro-
portion of the water, or pent up very clofe, it will burſt
the veſſel that holds it, and fly up in fume and fmoke.
The water, on the contrary, is of fuch a fubtile, pierc-
ing cold, that unless it be mingled with a proportion of
the fpirits, it will fink almoft through every thing it is
put into; and feems to be of the fame nature as the
water mentioned by Quintus Curtius, which, fays the
historian, could be contained in nothing but in the hoof,
or (as the Oxford manufcript has it) the fcull of an aſs.
The thermometer is marked according to the following
figure, which I fet down at length, not only to give my
reader a clear idea of it, but alſo to fill up my paper.
Ignorance.
PREVENTING POPERY.
311
Ignorance
Perfecution.
Wrath.
Zeal.
CHURCH.
Moderation.
Lukewarmneſs.
Infidelity.
Ignorance.
The reader will obferve, that the church is placed in
the middle point of the glafs, between Zealand Modera-
tion, the fituation in which fhe always flouriſhes, and in
which every good Engliſhman wifhes her, who is a
friend to the conftitution of his country. However,
when it mounts to Zeal, it is not amifs; and when it
finks to Moderation, it is ftill in admirable temper. The
worst of it is, that when once it begins to rife, it has ftill
an inclination to aſcend, infomuch that it is apt to climb
from Zeal to Wrath, and from Wrath to Perfecution,
which often ends in Ignorance, and very often proceeds
from it. In the fame manner, it frequently takes its pro-
grefs through the lower half of the glaſs; and, when it
has a tendency to fall, will gradually defcend from Mo-
deration to Lukecvarmneſs, and from Lukewarmnejs to In-
fidelity, which very often terminates in Ignorance, and al-
ways proceeds from it.
It is a common obfervation, that the ordinary ther-
mometer will be affected by the breathing of people who
are in the room where it ftands; and indeed it is almoft
incredible to conceive, how the glass I am now defcrib.
ing, will fall by the breath of the multitude crying Pope-
ry; or, on the contrary, how it will rife when the fame
multitude (as it fometimes happens) cry out in the fame
breath, The church is in danger.
As foon as I had finished this my glass, and adjuſted
it to the above-mentioned fcale of religion, that I might
make proper experiments with it, I carried it under iny
cloak to feveral coffeehouſes, and other places of refort,
about this great city. At St James's coffeehouſe the li-
quor ſtood at Moderation; but at Will's, to my extreme
furpriſe, it fubfided to the very loweſt mark of the glaſs.
At
A PROPOSAL FOR
At the Grecian it mounted but juſt one point higher; at
the Rainbow it ftill afcended two degrees: Child's
fetched it up to Zeal, and other adjacent coffeehouſes to
Wrath.
It fell in the lower half of the glaſs, as I went further
into the city, till at length it ſettled at Moderation, where
it continued all the time I ftaid about the Change, as al-
fo whilft I paffed by the Bank. And here I cannot but
take notice, that, through the whole courfe of my re-
marks, I never obferved iny glaís to rife at the fame time
that the ftocks did.
To complete the experiment, I prevailed upon a
friend of mine, who works under me in the occult
fciences, to make a progrefs with my glafs through the
whole iſland of Great Britain; and, after his return, to
prefent me with a regiſter of his obfervations. I gueſſed
before-hand at the temper of feveral places he pafled
through, by the characters they have had, time out of
mind. Thus, that facetious divine, Dr. Fuller, (peaking
of the town of Banbury, near a hundred years ago, tells
us, it was a place famous for cakes and geal; which I
find by my glaſs is true to this day, as to the latter part of
his defcription; though I must confefs, it is not in the
fame reputation for cakes that it was in the time of that
learned author; and thus of other places. In fhort, I
have now by me, digefted in an alphabetical order, all
the counties, corporations, and boroughs in Great-Eri-
tain, with their reſpective tempers, as they ftand related
in my thermometer. But this i fhall keep to myfelf, be-
caufe I would by no means do any thing that may ſeem
to influence any enfuing election.
The point of doctrine which I would propagate by
this my invention, is the fame which was long ago ad-
vanced by that able teacher Horace, out of whom I
have taken my text for this difcourfe. We fould be
careful not to overshoot ourſelves, in the purſuits even
of virtue Whether Zcal or Moderation be the point we
aim at, let us keep fire out of the one, and froſt out of
the other. But alas! the world is too wile to want
fuch a precaution. The terms High-church and Low-
church, as commonly uſed, do not fo much denote a
principle, as they diftinguifh a party. They are like
words
PREVENTING
POPERY. 313
words of battle, that have nothing to do with their ori-
ginal fignification, but are only given out to keep a
body of men together, and to let them know friends
from enemies.
I must confefs, I have confidered, with fome atten-
tion, the influence which the opinions of theſe great
national fects have upon their practice; and do look
upon it as one of the unaccountable things of our times,
that multitudes of honeft gentlemen, who entirely
agree in their lives, fhould take it in their heads to differ
in their religion.
I ſhall conclude this paper with an account of a con-
ference which happened between a very excellent divine
(whofe doctrine was cafy, and formerly much refpect-
ed) and a lawyer.
A
ND behold, a certain lawyer ftood up, and
tempted him, faying, Maſter, what fhall I do to
inherit eternal life?
He ſaid unto him, What is written in the law? how
readeft thou?
And he anſwering, faid, Thou fhalt love the Lord
thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy foul, and
with all thy ftrength, and with all thy mind; and thy
neighbour as thyſelf.
And he faid unto him, Thou haft anſwered right :
this do, and thou shalt live.
But he, willing to juftify himself, faid unto Jefus,
And who is my neighbour ?
And Jefus anfwering, faid, A certain man went
down from Jerufalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves,
which ſtripped him of his raiment, and wounded him,
and departed, leaving him half dead.
And by chance there came down a certain prieſt
that way; and when he faw him, he paffed by on the
other fide.
And likewife a Levite, when he was at the place,
came and looked on him, and paffed by on the other fide.
But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where
he was and when he faw him, he had compaffion on
him,
VOL. I.
P
And
314
PROPOSAL, &c.
A
And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pour-
ing in oil and wine; and fet him on his own beaft, and
brought him to an inn, and took care of him.
And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out
two pence, and gave them to the hoft, and faid unto
him, Take care of him; and whatſoever thou ſpendeſt
more, when I come again, I will repay thee.
Which now of these three, thinkeft thou, was neigh-
bour unto him that fell among the thieves?
And he faid, He that fhewed mercy on him. Then
faid Jefus unto him, Go, and do thou likewiſe. Luke x.
25 to 38.
T
ADVERTISEMENT.
HERE is now in the prefs a propofal for railing a fund
towards paying the national debt by the following
means. The author would have commiffioners appointed to
fearch all the public and private libraries, bookſellers ſhops and
warehouſes, in this kingdom, for fuch books as are of no uſe to
the owner, or to the public, viz. all comments on the holy fcrip-
tures, whether called fermons, creeds, bodies of divinity, tomes
of cafuiftry, vindications, confutations, ellays, anfwers, replies,
rejoinders, or fur-rejoinders; together with all other learned
treatiſes and books of divinity of what denomination or claſs
foever as alfo, all comments on the laws of the land; fuch
as, reports, law-cafes, decrees, guides for attorneys and young
clerks; and, in fine, all the books now in being in this king-
dom, (whether of divinity, law, phyfic, metaphyficks, logics,
or politics), except the pure text of the holy fcriptures, the
naked text of the laws, a few books of morality, poetry, mufic,
architecture, agriculture, mathematics, merchandiſe, and hif-
tory: the author would have the aforesaid uſeleſs books carried
to the feveral paper-mills, there to be wrought into white pa-
per; which, to prevent damage or complaints, he would have
performed by the commentators, critics, popular preachers,
apothecaries, learned lawyers, attorneys, folicitors, logicians,
phyficians, almanack-makers, and others of the like wrong
turn of mind; the faid paper to be fold, and the produce appli-
ed to diſcharge the national debt. What ſhould remain of the
faid debt unfatisfied, might be paid by a tax on the falaries or
eſtates of bankers, common cheats, uſurers, treaſurers, imbez-
zlers of public money, general officers, Jharpers, penfioners,
pick-pockets, &c.
THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
ARTES
1837
SCIENTIA
LIBRARY
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OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
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