ARTES
(817
SCIENTIA
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
PLURIOUS
TUEBOR
SI QUERIS-PENINSULAM AMQNAM)
CIRCUMSPICE
GIFT OF
REGENT LLHUBBARD
Hubbard
Imag. Yoy.
PR
3721
R79
1845
F
1
!
L
V
•
Hubbard
Imag. Voy.
PR
3721
R7:
1848
Vil
4/7
P/T/-
24/6th
to Hubbard
2/9/19

Engraved by S Everman
JONATHAN SWIFT. D.D.
Dean of Saint Patricks Dublin
THE
WORKS
OF
JONATHAN SWIFT,
D D., AND DEAN OF SAINT PATRICK'S, DUBLIN.
CONTAINING
INTERESTING AND VALUABLE PAPERS,
NOT HITHERTO PUBLISHED.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
WITH MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR, BY THOMAS ROSCOE;
*1
PORTRAIT AND AUTOGRAPH.
No Author in the British language has enjoyed the extensive popularity of the celebrated Dean of St. Patrick's. The vivid
and original power of his genius has supported him in the general opinion, to an extent only equalled by his friend Pope, and
far surpassing any other of those geniuses who flourished in the Augustan age of Queen Anne.
VOLUME I.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
LONDON:
HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
1848.
Red
Lucius L. Hubbard
gt.
2 vole
10-31-192 z
409948-49
!

CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.
PAGE
PAGE
LIFE OF SWIFT
ix
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS
394
TRAVELS OF LEMUEL GULLIVER
1
A TALE OF A TUB
A LETTER FROM DR. ANDREW TRIPE TO NES-
TOR IRONSIDE .
405
82
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES
410
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS
125
•
SOME REMARKS ON THE BARRIER TREATY
128
A DISCOURSE ON THE OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT
JOURNAL TO STELLA
133
139
•
MEMOIRS RELATING TO THE CHANGE IN QUEEN
ANNE'S MINISTRY IN 1710
AN APPENDIX TO THE CONDUCT OF THE AL-
LIES, AND ADDITIONAL REMARKS ON THE
BARRIER TREATY
437
277
A DISCOURSE OF THE CONTESTS AND DISSEN-
SIONS IN ATHENS AND ROME
THE HISTORY OF THE FOUR LAST YEARS OF
QUEEN ANNE
438
283
FREE THOUGHTS ON THE PRESENT STATE OF
THE EXAMINER
296
AFFAIRS
190
CONSIDERATIONS
ON THE CONSEQUENCES
TRACTS, POLITICAL AND HISTORICAL.
HOPED AND FEARED FROM THE DEATH
OF THE QUEEN.
49
•
A SHORT CHARACTER OF THOMAS EARL OF
WHARTON
351
AN INQUIRY INTO THE BEHAVIOUR OF THE
QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY
498
REMARKS UPON A LETTER TO THE LORDS
APPOINTED TO EXAMINE GREGG.
356
•
NARRATIVE OF WHAT PASSED AT THE EX-
AMINATION OF THE MARQUIS DE GUIS-
CARD
A NEW JOURNEY TO PARIS
512
·
363
SOME ADVICE TO THE MEMBERS OF THE OC-
TOBER CLUB
A LEARNED COMMENT ON DR. HARE'S SER-
MON ON THE SURRENDER OF BOUCHAIN
517
•
SOME REASONS TO PROVE THAT NO ONE IS
OBLIGED, BY HIS PRINCIPLES AS A WHIG,
TO OPPOSE THE QUEEN. IN A LETTER TO
A WHIG LORD
SUPPOSED LETTER FROM THE PRETENDER TO
ANOTHER WHIG LORD
A NEW VINDICATION OF THE DUKE OF MARL-
BOROUGH
•
520
370
A RELATION OF THE FACTS AND CIRCUM-
STANCES OF THE INTENDED RIOT
RIOT ON
QUEEN ELIZABETH'S BIRTHDAY
•
524
374
A PRETENDED LETTER OF THANKS FROM LORD
WHARTON TO THE BISHOP OF ST. ASAPH,
IN THE NAME OF THE KITCAT CLUB.
REMARKS ON BISHOP FLEETWOOD'S PREFACE
A COMPLETE REFUTATION OF THE FALSEHOODS
ALLEGED AGAINST ERASMUS LEWIS, ESQ.
THE NEW WAY OF SELLING PLACES AT COURT
THE STORY OF THE ST. ALBAN'S GHOST
527
·
529
374
376
THE CHARACTER OF RICHARD STEELE, ESQ.
ABSTRACT OF THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND
AN ACCOUNT OF THE COURT AND EMPIRE OF
JAPAN.
532
537
559
377
A PREFACE TO THE BISHOP OF SARUM'S IN-
TRODUCTION TO THE THIRD VOLUME OF
THE HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION OF
THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND
THE IMPORTANCE OF THE GUARDIAN CON-
SHORT REMARKS ON BISHOP BURNET'S HIS
TORY
501
REMARKS ON THE CHARACTER OF THE COURT
OF QUEEN ANNE
•
379
571
SIDERED
MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
576
•
55
iv
CONTENTS.
PAGE
MISCELLANIES IN PROSE,
BY MR. POPE, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. GAY, &c.
IT CANNOT RAIN BUT IT POURS
PAGE
826
PREFACE
795
MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS ON THE ART OF SINK-
NARRATIVE OF DR. ROBERT NORRIS CONCERN-
ING THE FRENZY OF MR. JOHN DENNIS
AN ACCOUNT OF THE REVENGE BY POISON ON
THE BODY OF MR. EDMUND CURLL
8277
•
830
ING IN POETRY
797
VIRGILIUS RESTAURATUS
812
AN ESSAY OF MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS ON THE
ORIGIN OF THE SCIENCES
A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE DEPLORABLE
CONDITION OF MR. EDMUND CURLL SINCE
HIS BEING POISONED
832
813
ANNUS MIRABILIS
816
A RELATION HOW MR. EDMUND CURLL WAS
CONVERTED FROM CHRISTIANITY BY CER-
TAIN JEWS
834
A KEY TO THE LOCK
818
THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS
835
MEMOIRS OF P.P., CLERK OF THIS PARISH
822
A WONDERFUL PROPHECY
•
838
REASONS AGAINST THE BILL FOR EXAMINING
DRUGS
THE COUNTRY POST
839
825
840
PETITION OF THE COLLIERS, COOKS, AND
OTHERS TO THE MAYOR AND ALDERMEN
OF LONDON
825
GOD'S REVENGE AGAINST PUNNING
NARRATIVE OF WHAT PASSED IN LONDON
DURING A GENERAL CONSTERNATION
840

ADVERTISEMENT.
Ir is remarkable that the most celebrated writer of
his day, during the brilliant Augustan epoch of
English literature, flourished under the reign of a
queen, and that in the reign of a queen his works,
after the lapse of a century, again appear in a cheap
and popular form. To the system of publication
which prevailed in his own times Swift was mainly
indebted for the wide-spread reputation he acquired,
by the diffusion of his writings through the greatest
variety of channels, till by means of cheap and mul-
tiplied editions his masterly productions became as
familiar to the readers of humble station as of high,
and to those of other countries as of his own.
It was the great author's uniform object -alike
agreeable to his literary ambition and to his high and
liberal spirit to give his works to the public upon
as low terms as by mechanic art they could be pre-
pared; and with this view he declined to make them
a source of profit, to employ means to protect them
as copyright, and more particularly to embody them
in large and high-priced editions, accessible indeed
to the few, but a book sealed and a fountain of
knowledge shut up from the rest of mankind. The
repeated restrictions placed upon the cheap know-
ledge system, after the accession of the Whigs to
power in Swift's own times, were denounced by him
with the spirit of a sage and a patriot, as inconsistent
with civil freedom and the instruction of mankind.
Other circumstances favoured the change; fashion,
capital, taste, and art, all combined to create a mo-
nopoly of expensive and select editions, and in
proportion as the immortal productions of the cele-
brated dean were withdrawn from the masses and
the great public of the world to circulate among the
polite, the fashionable, and the refined, his celebrity
was unfairly restricted. He was judged by partial
rules; and the author of "The Drapier's Let-
ters " and "Gulliver's Travels," who had written
for mankind, was made the hero of a clique, amena-
ble to the opinions of a caste, subjected to every
wind of doctrine and party caprice, now extrava-
gantly exalted by one faction, and then as unjustly
reviled by another. The sense of mankind was no
longer taken upon his merits as at the period when
he lived, when the wide world of politics and letters
was his arbitrator, when the twopenny tracts and
the old penny broadsides diffused the knowledge of
his inimitable writings into the remotest corners of
the United Empire.
If, in proportion as Swift's productions were ex-
tensively spread abroad, his fame and popularity
stood on a wider and a firmer basis, it forms a
strong argument of their superior merit, of their
ability and usefulness, and of the genuine wit and
entertainment as well as the instruction which they
contained. Swift wrote with no object but that of
honest ambition to serve the cause which he con-
scientiously approved, and without even the common
motives to stand foremost in literary fame, of which
it is evident, from the little care he bestowed upon
the publication or re-editions of his works, he was
far less studious than of the purpose for which he
wrote.
It was with a view of replacing the eccentric dean
of St. Patrick's, his character and his writings, in
|
the fair and full light of the public eye under which
they formerly appeared by the same means of multi-
plied cheap editions, and of appealing from the
merely select and patrician order, for which he never
wrote, to the general and unbiassed judgment of the
millions and of their posterity, that the following
edition of his entire works was undertaken, and that
a new life of the author was prepared, with scrupu-
lous love of truth and fidelity, from the mass of
voluminous materials placed at the disposal of the
editor.
Having thus briefly alluded to the motives which
actuated him in venturing to undertake so very
onerous and responsible a task, it is the editor's next
duty to describe the means he adopted to facilitate
his object, and the new claims which he has to ad-
vance in looking for the countenance and support of
the masses, as distinguished from the possessors of
the large and expensive editions, now become, we
believe, very nearly and happily exhausted;—another
proof of the witty dean's fame, were any wanting,
among the select few who have engrossed them.
One of the first objects to which the present editor
directed his attention in the outset was to the glar-
ing inaccuracies and discrepancies which, upon
close inspection, were found to deface the existing
texts of the different editions, from the period of the
first spurious one of the "Miscellanies," and from
Hawkesworth and Sheridan, to the splendid eight
guinea edition brought out by sir Walter Scott. It
is well known that Swift frequently revised the first
impressions of his works; in particular his "Gulli-
ver's Travels," and his satirical poems, much more
than his political tracts and other pieces of a more
temporary interest; and that this circumstance in
great part rendered the original copy of little value
for the purpose of being collated with subsequent
editions, after those of Hawkesworth and Nichols.
made their appearance. Any one who compares the
spurious edition of the "Miscellanies" of Pope and
Swift with that subsequently prepared by these great
writers, will perceive the extent of the dean's care in
this respect; and the appearance of a copy of the
"Gulliver's Travels" in the hands of a London
booksellera a short time ago, by its numerous inter-
lineations and erasures, bore ample proofs of the
author's desire to correct and improve his first essay's
to the utmost of his power.
"To write with fervour and correct with phlegm,"
was a maxim of his friend Pope, of which, with due
leisure, Swift knew how to make an admirable use;
and to this habit, founded upon a wise love of en-
during reputation and profound respect for public
opinion, we are indebted for the general correctness
and clearness from ambiguities of thought and ex-
pression, which distinguish all the works of Swift
published with his knowledge during his lifetime.
To the same circumstance, favourable alike to Swift's
reputation and the labours of his editor, the purity
and genuineness of the early texts taken from his
own corrected editions, consisting of the "Gulliver's
This curious and valuable specimen of the dean's reverence
for the judgment of posterity was seen not a great while ago
at the shop of-we believe--a Mr. Booth; but is no longer to
be met with.
(
vi
ADVERTISEMENT.
Travels," "Political Tracts," "Miscellanies," and
"Poems," by Hawkesworth and Sheridan, with the
additions of Nichols, are to be attributed; and in
so far as these have been departed from in the hope
of farther emendations and improvements, in so
much will the genuine text of Swift be found to be
defaced and corrupted. It is a curious fact that,
although these series of editions have indubitably
been taken one from the other, and not from collat-
ing the most recent with the earliest edition and
with the original copies in different institutions,
there should yet occur variations and discre-
pancies so great as to render it matter of doubt and
difficulty to decide upon the original reading. Many
of Swift's separately printed works differed from the
same given in the editions, and all these editions
likewise varied from each other; without excepting
that genuine and most valuable work of all, the
"Journal to Stella," of which a fair copy, as well as
of the "General Correspondence," enriches the na-
tional collection in the British Museum.
It is in these posthumous publications, which
never, like the printed copics, received the revision of
the dean's own hand, that many variations and discre-
pancies are more peculiarly observable; and for an ob-
vious reason. Never having been written nor designed
for publication-thrown off in all the confidence of
friendship-very often hastily composed in the hurry
of business and on the impulse of warm feelings-it
is almost impossible they should not abound with
errors such as we still see, and be open to different
interpretations and various readings in proportion to
the differences of opinion in his editors. This por-
tion of Swift's writings, a sort of public property
(for in regard to his whole literary estate he may
be said to have died intestate), which never received
either his sanction or revision for publication, is
exactly that which is most faulty in regard to the
text, and calls for the greatest lenity from public
opinion upon every other account.
Accordingly upon this portion of the text the
editor has bestowed special care, by engaging ade-
quate assistance to collate and compare not only the
editions with each other, but each edition with the
original MSS., wheresoever they were to be met with,
at considerable labour and expense. Laborious as
it was, many circumstances favoured this undertak-
ing to form as far as possible, from different texts
compared with original copy, a new corrected text,
adhering as closely as was practicable to the reading
of the first prints and the original documents. By
thus recurring to first authorities the editor conceives
he has been guided by a safe rule-by a principle
that must insure the preservation of correctness, and
genuineness, and purity, if not superior elegance |
and study of expression and language, in accordance
with changes in orthography and the use of particles
since the days of Swift.
It being the editor's especial object to give Swift's
text as he wrote and as he corrected it, where found,
he formed the basis of the following one upon these
original documents; and having ascertained that
Sheridan, with Nichols, approached the nearest to
the genuine copy, he adopted it after it had been
compared also with the first printed works, with
Hawkesworth, and the edition of sir Walter Scott.
Without the slightest wish to utter a word in dis-
paragement of the great and valuable labours not
less than the immortal productions of the last cele-
brated writer, the editor is bound to state, in justice
to the previous efforts of Swift's annotators, that in
no other edition is to be found so many errors, so many
glaring inaccuracies, so large a portion of little in-
terpolations and numerous strange omissions, calcu-
lated greatly to deform and deface a text which
called for particular care and attention to keep it free
from the gradual corruptions which invariably creep in
with the lapse of time. The editor is at the same time
fully aware that faults so completely condemnatory
of a modern edition of the works of Swift, at a period
when every opportunity for attaining to correctness
at least is afforded, formed no part of the literary
character and labours, and are not attributable to
the immortal author of "Waverley," either as an
editor or a biographer. They lay in the system pur-
sued by the proprietors of great editions in bringing
out so vast and expensive a publication, as a regiment
is brought out on a field-day, en masse, to make a
grand show of war, and whose evolutions may be
performed with far greater facility, though with less
execution, than in a battle. Sir Walter Scott's
would indeed have been a noble edition, had it
equalled in point of a correct and genuine text its
show and magnificence, its pleasing and able biogra-
phy, and interesting notices.
Secondly, with reference to the editor's arrange-
ment of subjects, the same plan has been pursued as
in the preceding editions of Fielding and Smol-
lett, the order of precedence being regulated not by
the dates of their production, but by their relative
importance and the celebrity they have acquired.
This plan would be open to serious objections were
they not obviated by the chronological order pre-
served in the "Life" and the analysis of the author's
works, where the dates will be found in the order
and sequence of their publication; whereas, by
adopting the chronological series, both the least in-
teresting and most unconnected and trivial parts of
the writer's works would be obtruded upon the
reader's attention. Swift's fame chiefly rests upon
his ingenious and masterly political allegories in the
form of prose fictions, which must endure as long as
the language; and accordingly the "Gulliver's Tra-
vels," the "Tale of a Tub," and Swift's other prose
works, will in this edition take the lead. The
"Journal to Stella," the other Correspondence, the
Political Tracts," and the "Satirical and Occa-
sional Poems," will be found arranged in pursuance
of the same principle of relative excellence, as far as
the public voice-seldom erroneous-has afforded a
criterion of their merit. The arrangement adopted by
sir Walter Scott was a great improvement upon preced-
ing editions, but was still arbitrary and open to innu-
merable objections, from want of pursuing the simple
plan now adhered to, in deference no less to the
author's surpassing genius than to the reputation
awarded him by the public voice. The best points
in the arrangement of all former editions the editor
has here introduced with fresh improvements.
It will be observed, with reference to the large
body of annotations which had accrued from time to
time in successive editions of the author's works,
till they swelled to a height almost equal to the bulk
of the text, only such portions have in this edition
been retained as were found necessary to the clear
understanding of the text.
The editor has next to return his thanks to several
eminent individuals for their communications, and
the new and valuable documents with which they
have supplied him. It is more particularly his duty
to record his obligations and those of the public to
sir William Betham, knight and Ulster king of
arms; to J. C. Croker, esq., of the admiralty; and
to the Rev. C. Otway, of St. Patrick's cathedral,
Dublin;—as well known by their writings as by
their learning and research, their extensive collec-
tions and knowledge of the dean's published or un-
published works. The new documents for which
1
ADVERTISEMENT.
vii
he has been indebted to these gentlemen will be There is one remaining point upon which the editor
found in the APPENDIX, under their respective has ventured to exercise his discretion. It is well
heads. Nor is he less bound to express his grateful known that the dean of St. Patrick's was in the
sense of the valuable assistance and kind attentions habit of commenting upon the books which he read,
of distinguished members of the families of Brabazon especially on history, and those works in which he
and Hamilton in Ireland; of sir Frederick Madden felt more peculiar interest. This he sometimes did
and of A. Panizzi, esq., the learned conservators of in sallies of impatience and passion of the moment,
the treasures contained in the British Museum. It
It not worthy his great mind, nor possessing either re-
will be seen that to the excellent system pursued by flection or wit. Never intended for the public eye,
them in regard to order and precision in the arrange- mere ebullitions of disappointment and political
ment, the public is indebted for the editor's dis- rage, showing his prejudice in low and scurrilous
covery of several new pieces never before published terms against a noble people ;-the editor trusts that
in
any edition of the celebrated dean's works.
he will be thought justified in having excluded from
a popular edition of Swift's Works those violent
expressions written on the margins of Addison's
"Freeholder” and Clarendon's "History of the
Rebellion."
While, owing to these and other favourable cir-
cumstances, the editor has been enabled to enrich
the present collection with new and well-authenti-
cated additions, he devoted his earnest attention to
detect the want of genuine character in some pro-
ductions attributed to Swift in previous editions.
Many poetical and other pieces contained in sir
Walter Scott's edition, and of which that distin-
guished writer and critic himself expressed strong
doubts, the editor, after mature investigation, de-
cided to omit, as well on the ground of their very
inferior character as the intrinsic and collateral evi-
dence of their being written by other hands.
In conclusion, the editor is rejoiced to have it in
his power to state that the views which he has taken
of the dean of St. Patrick's character as an honest
and conscientious man, have been strongly corrobo-
rated by the additional evidence it has been his good
fortune to obtain from the archives of St. Patrick's,
by the kindness of the Rev. C. Otway; as will be
seen from the autograph letter, and the curious and
interesting matter in the Appendix.
Originally printed in Ten Volumes, and sold at £4. 10s., but now in one very handsome Medium 8vo.
Volume, double columns,
PRICE SIXTEEN SHILLINGS,
WITH
LIFE BY THOMAS ROSCOE, PORTRAIT AND AUTOGRAPH:
THE COMPLETE
WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING.
"The Prose Homer of Human Nature."-LORD BYRON.
"There now are no 'Squire Westerns as of old,
And our Sophias are not so emphatic,
But fair as them or fairer to behold.-DON JUAN, c. xiii. s. 110.
y
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS AND VARIOUS WRITERS.
THE TIMES, September 2nd.
HERE, in a single handsome volume, and a clear
distinct type, we have all the works of one of the
greatest humorists in our language.
*
We are very glad to see this great writer's works
put forward in a popular form, and at a price ex-
ceedingly low. A man may be very much injured
by perusing maudlin sentimental tales, but cannot
be hurt, though he may be shocked every now and
then, by reading works of sound sterling humour,
like the greater part of these, full of benevolence,
practical wisdom, and generous sympathy with man-
kind.
The work is prefaced by an able biography of
Fielding by Mr. Roscoe, in which he does justice to
the great satirist's memory, and rescues it from the
attacks which rivals, poetasters, and fine gentlemen
have made upon it.
*
*
Those who have a mind to forgive a little coarse-
ness, for the sake of one of the honestest, manliest,
fancy, find a better than Fielding, or get so much
kindest companions in the world, cannot, as we
true wit and shrewdness from any other writer of
our language.
SPECTATOR.
We have in this volume the entire works of Field-
ing, and many Miscellaneous Pieces not included in
former editions. The complete works may now be
had at a less cost than a common edition of one of
the novels a few years since. All readers should
purchase this excellent edition of one of the greatest
humorists in our language.
ATLAS.
The Works of Fielding, in one handsome volume,
a fine portrait and autograph of the celebrated
author, with a very clear and distinct type, is a
treasure indeed. The Life by Roscoe is executed
viii
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS AND VARIOUS WRITERS.
with his usual diligence, skill, and good taste. No
library can be considered complete without this
amusing author. Every reader should possess this
valuable edition of one of the very best novelists of
his time.
LIVERPOOL MERCURY.
That indefatigable and intelligent pioneer of lite-
rature, Mr. Thomas Roscoe, has rendered a very
important service to the public by his complete edi-
tion of the works of Fielding, in one beautiful
volume, and at a charge altogether unprecedented,
illustrated by a striking portrait of the author, and
a fac-simile of his autograph. The work comprises
1116 closely printed pages of the largest 8vo. size.
MANCHESTER COURIER.
The whole of his works make a portly volume;
Fielding's abundant dramatic and political efforts
being comprised in it. The gems, of course, are the
novels; they are, indeed, "the leaven which lea-
veneth" this mass.
LITERARY GAZETTE.
We recommend the works of Fielding, thus
brought together, to readers of every class. If they
read with discretion, they may profit greatly thereby :
if they read with discrimination, they may gather
much insight into humanity therefrom: and if they
read anyhow, they must be exceedingly entertained
with the delectable pages-novels, essays, dramas,
and many-featured miscellanies-which are here pre-
sented to them.
COURIER.
An acceptable service to the reading public has
been rendered by the republication, in the collected
and economical form of one handsome volume, of
the works of Fielding. Attempts have latterly been
made to depreciate the merit by impeaching the
moral tendencies of Fielding's works, in order to
reduce them to the level of those of Bulwer and
Ainsworth, or rather to exalt these in the scale by
pleading for their publications moral equality, if not
equality of talent, with those of Fielding. The com-
parison will not hold for a moment.
SUNDAY TIMES.
On the works of Fielding it is unnecessary to offer
any remarks, their merits being so universally ac-
knowledged, and their popularity so firmly esta-
blished. The present edition is distinguished by
some peculiarities, being complete in one volume,
containing 1116 pages, well printed upon excellent
paper, and sold at the extremely moderate price
of 16s.
The successors of Charles V. may disdain their
brethren of England, but the romance of Tom Jones,
that exquisite picture of human manners, will outlive
the palace of the Escurial and the imperial eagle
of Austria.
GIBBON.
The cultivated genius of Fielding entitles him to
a high rank among the classics. His works exhibit
a series of pictures drawn with all the descriptive
fidelity of a Hogarth. They are highly entertaining,
and will always be read with pleasure.
D. V. KNOX's Essays.
Cervantes, Le Sage, Fielding, Smollet, began one
and all of them with the drama, and after failing in
that betook themselves to the efforts by which they
have earned their immortality.
QUARTERLY REVIEW.
Of all the works of imagination to which English
genius has given origin, the writings of Henry
Fielding are, perhaps, most decidedly and exclu-
sively her own. SCOTT.-Biographical Notices.
Johnson read Fielding's Amelia through without
stopping.
BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON.
Johnson appears to have been particularly pleased
with the character of the heroine of this novel, and
said Fielding's Amelia was the most pleasing hero-
MALONE.
ine of all the romances.
the world might have expected continued delight
Thus lived and thus died, at a period of life when
from his matured powers, the celebrated Henry
Fielding, father of the English novel; and in his
powers of strong national humour, and forcible, yet
natural exhibition of character, unapproached as yet,
even by his most successful followers.
SIR W. SCOTT.-Biog. Memoirs.
PRICE SIXTEEN SHILLINGS, in One handsome Medium Octavo Volume,
UNIFORM WITH THIS WORK,
LIFE BY ROSCOE, PORTRAIT AND AUTOGRAPH;
Originally printed in Six Volumes, and Sold at 31. 3s. ;
· THE
MISCELLANEOUS WORKS
OF
TOBIAS SMOLLETT.
Smollett and Fielding were so eminently successful as Novelists, that no other English author of that class has
a right to be mentioned in the same breath. We readily grant to Smollett an equal rank with his great rival
Fielding-while we place both far above any of their successors in the same line of fictitious composition: perhaps
no books ever written excited such peals of inextinguishable laughter as those of Smollett.
SIR WALTER SCOTT's Biographical Notices.
We should be glad that we had more of Smollett's Novels just as they are.
CAMPBELL'S Specimens of the British Poets.
LIFE AND WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT,
D.D. AND DEAN OF SAINT PATRICK'S, DUBLIN.
In the life and character of this extraordinary
man and incomparable English classic, some points
occur of so delicate and doubtful a nature, that a di-
versity of opinion must be expected always to exist
respecting them; and some of such painful and un-
happy interest, that they never can be dwelt upon
without reluctance and regret. But of his singular
genius, his transcendant talents, and his varied at-
tainments, no question can be entertained; and by
the apparently incongruous combination, which per-
vades his writings and his conduct, of sound good
sense with piercing wit and whimsical eccentricity,
he nas transmitted to succeeding times more ample
stores, both of instruction and amusement, than any
other literary man of his age. The influence he ex-
ercised over his own times, by the unrivalled bril-
liancy of his powers, his masterly comprehension of
the great interests then at stake, in the fierce struggle
of irreconcilable parties, to both of which his prin-
ciples were in part opposed, and the dexterity with.
which, in his caustic satires, he held up to public
view their respective errors, have scarcely been esti-
mated at their real value. His was a mind that be-
longed less to a party than to mankind; endowed
with a firmness and a pride that prompted him in
every situation to maintain an independent attitude.
Supported by these feelings, he attained the highest
eminence to which an individual in the ranks of
private life can aspire, as the counsellor of the first
ministers of state, and the strenuous supporter of the
rights and interests of his fellow-men-and without
them it is impossible that he could have acquired
that political ascendancy which he undoubtedly en-
joyed, or won that popular renown which rewarded
his zealous and unwearied exertions for the peace,
freedom, and religion of his country.
The leading characteristics of this great man's
mind are strikingly manifested throughout his
works in the astonishing efforts which he made to
show mankind the causes of their corruption and
degradation, and to teach the people in what con-
sisted their weakness and their strength; in the
grief and indignation with which he beheld their
sufferings; and in the benevolence with which he
sought to inspire them with a firm confidence in
their means of ultimate emancipation. It is not
surprising that a man of Swift's lofty wisdom, exact
knowledge of human nature, and keen political sa-
gacity, should have despised the extremes of party,
and yet at the same time, by his surpassing wit and
talents, should have extorted the admiration and
homage of men of all ranks and all opinions. The
most celebrated men of their age, poets and politi-
cians-Bolingbroke and Oxford, Pope, Addison, and
Arbuthnot-freely acknowledged the superiority of
that master intellect which possessed so merited a
power, so strange and fascinating an influence, in
directing at once the destinies of a ministry and a
people, the fortunes of his private friends, or a revo-
lution in the public mind. It is perhaps the proud-
est triumph of his genius that the best and greatest
men have borne the strongest testimony to his merits.
and to the extent of his political and literary fame.
The language in which he is addressed by the most
VOL. I.
|
distinguished persons in every class, the learned and
the witty, the great and the noble, the fashionable
and the gay, carries sufficient evidence of the many
estimable and engaging qualities by which such ge-
neral affection and respect must have been attracted
and secured.
But the happier period of his life, the splendid
reign of a brilliant intellect, during which he reaped
the abundant harvest of his celebrity and worth,
basking in the siniles of that favour which he so much
coveted, and making it his delight to honour and
promote his friends, of whatever party they might
be, was destined to have but too brief an existence.
His day of life grew dark almost before its noon.
The morning had risen amidst lowering clouds,
through which the beams of his genius broke slowly,
till they reached their meridian power; and his
evening went down with an eclipse so dark as
strongly to impress on the mind the frail tenure of
those great endowments which not even the loftiest
genius or the purest moral worth can permanently
ensure to their possessor.
Jonathan Swift was descended from an ancient
and highly respectable family of the same name in
Yorkshire; of which the elder branch, in the person
of Barnham Swift, acquired titles of nobility, dating
the 20th March, 1627, as the viscounts Carlingford,
&c.; but Barnham dying without issue, they again be-
came extinct in the same generation. The younger
branch was represented by the rev. Thos. Swift, vicar
of Goodrich and proprietor of a small estate in Here-
fordshire, eminently distinguished in his day for
his chivalric loyalty and attachment to the cause of
Charles I., in which he is stated to have suffered
more than any person of his condition in England.
For this devotion, almost to martyrdom (and com-
plete martyrdom of estate), his memory was greatly
revered by his celebrated grandson, who contem-
plated writing a regular memoir of this doughty
loyalist, assisted by his friend doctor John Lyon ;a
and from this circumstance it is not improbable that
the stern unflinching spirit of the clergyman had its
effect in exciting the lofty magnanimity and courage
so conspicuous in his descendant, and perhaps in
determining his choice of a profession.
There are
the same traits of daring in both-the fidelity and
resolution which constitute the martyr; for we are
told that this loyal parson was plundered by the
roundheads no less than six-and-thirty times, yet
contrived to secrete 300 broad pieces of gold, with
which he made his escape to Ragland castle and
presented them to the governor; an action, says his
great descendant, which must be allowed to be the
more extraordinary as it was performed by a private
clergyman, with a very numerous family, of small
estate, who had been often plundered and was de-
prived of his livings in the church. Also, in his
Journal to Stella (Letter 42), Swift expresses the
a As appeared from a memorandum, labelled by Swift, with
his own hand, "Memoirs of my grandfather, Thomas Swift,
by Mr. Lyon, April, 1738." The portion compiled consisted
of an account of the sufferings of the family in the royal cause,
&c.
b "Anecdotes of the Family of Swift," MS., T. C. D., written
by Jonathan Swift, D. S. P. D.
b
X
LIFE AND WORKS OF
But
even of his mother, conveyed the young Jonathan to
England, whither she was summoned by a dying
relative. So attached was she to her charge, that
she taught him to spell even at three years old, and
at five he was able to read any chapter in the bible.
It was not till his sixth year that the little Jonathan
was reconducted to Ireland, his mother having pre-
ferred that he should remain in England to the
risk of another voyage. Almost immediately on
his return he was sent by his uncle Godwin to the
school of Kilkenny, where he remained eight years,
and was admitted on the 24th of April, 1682, a pen-
sioner in the university of Dublin, with the advan-
tage however of being placed under the judicious
tuition of Dr. St. George Ashe, afterwards bishop of
Dromore.
strong interest he felt in all that related to his stout-who, out of strong affection, without the knowledge
hearted predecessor's family. "O, pray, now I
think of it, be so kind to step to my aunt and take
notice of my great-grandfather's picture; you know
he has a ring on his finger with a seal of an anchor
and a dolphin about it; but I think there is besides
at the bottom of the picture the same coat of arms
quartered with another which I suppose was my great-
grandmother's. If this be so, it is a stronger argu-
ment than the seal. And pray see whether you
think that coat of arms was drawn at the same time
with the picture, or whether it be of a later hand;
and ask my aunt what she knows about it.
perhaps there is no such coat of arms on the picture,
and I only dreamt it. My reason is because I would
ask some herald here whether I should choose that
coat or one in Guillim's large folio of heraldry, where
my uncle Godwin is named with another coat of
arms of three stags. This is sad stuff to write, so
good night, MĎ.” What is more, Swift raised a
monument to his bold ancestor's memory, and also
presented a cup to the church of Goodrich or Gothe-
ridge. He had a drawing made of the monument,
which he forwarded to obtain the opinion of his
friend Mrs. Howard, who, having shown it to
Pope, returned it with the following humorous
lines written by that accomplished wit.
The paper
is endorsed in Swift's hand, "Model of a monument
for my grandfather, with Mr. Pope's roguery:
"JONATHAN Swift
Had the gift,
By fatherige, motherige,
And by brotherige,
To come from Gutherige,
But now is spoil'd clean,
And an Irish dean.
In this church he has put
A stone of two foot;
With a cup and a can, sir,
In respect to his grandsire.
So, Ireland, change thy tone,
And cry, O honef O hone!
For England hath its own."
This bold church militant married Elizabeth Dry-
den, sister to the father of John Dryden the poet.
By this lady he had no fewer than ten sons and four
daughters; and, dying in 1658, was succeeded by
his eldest son Godwin, then a barrister of Gray's-
inn, who, by his matrimonial connexion with the
noble family of Ormond, was subsequently raised to
the attorney-generalship of the palatinate of Tip-
perary.
This successful beginning induced other
members of the family to follow him to Ireland, and
among these four brothers was Jonathan Swift, the
father of the celebrated dean. He also had been
brought up to the law, and doubtless would have ac-
quired a handsome independence; but, with the
fatality which seemed to be prepared for his great
but unfortunate son, even before his birth, he was
cut off within two years after his marriage, in April
1667. His widow (of a Leicestershire family named
Erick) was thus left with an only daughter, and
pregnant of another child, with a slender provision
not exceeding twenty pounds a-year, purchased
during her husband's lifetime in England. It was
necessary that the elder brother Godwin should do
something to increase this stipend; but owing to an
unhappy disposition for speculation (another name,
according to Swift, for indolence and avarice) he
did as little as he could, and she gave birth to this
posthumous child, under no pleasing or promising
circumstances, about seven months after her hus-
band's death and thus inauspiciously was ushered
into the world the celebrated dean of St. Patrick's,
on the 30th of November, 1667, at the house No. 7,
Hoey's-court, Dublin.
One of the first events of this great man's history
seemed to partake of the strangeness and vicissitudes
which marked his subsequent fortunes, for when
only a year old he was spirited away-not by fairies,
but by his English nurse, a native of Whitehaven,
The first proof, perhaps, given by the celebrated
dean of his sterling wit and strong sense was the
decided repugnance he evinced for the scholastic
learning then so much in fashion, and still abound-
ing with so many absurdities retained from the old
collegiate system of education. The under-graduate
course especially was then confined almost wholly
to the works of the Stagirite, or those of his com-
mentators, including the sophistic jargon of Burger-
discius, Smiglecius, and their followers. We are
not surprised that such studies were little congenial
with that love of undisguised truth, and that clear
bold assertion of it in its naked strength and majesty,
which formed so striking a feature in Swift's cha-
racter. His refusal to sully his mind and pervert his
intellect by entering such absurd and thorny laby-
rinths showed that he possessed an understanding
as well as genius in advance of the age in which he
lived, and which distinguished him in all the memo-
rable events and trying junctures of his future life.
But how easily he could have mastered Kecher-
mannus, and shone, no mean star, in the old logical
treatises, appeared by his repetition of the logical
queries propounded to him (says Sheridan) many
years afterwards; and yet, to crown the solemn jest
of the collegiate doctors, the most truly profound
logician and close arguer of his times was stopped
on first presenting himself, as he humorously ex-
presses it," for dulness and insufficiency," and of
course failed to take his degree of bachelor of arts.
To have been condemned for contumacy would have
come perhaps nearer to the mark; for, according to
his own account, he was so disgusted at the stupidity
of the scholastic treatises that he never had patience
to go through three pages of any of them. At the
first public examination he refused to reply to the
senseless jargon propounded to him; and when
urged by his tutor to make himself master of this
special branch of metaphysic science, he is stated to
have inquired what it was he was to learn from those
books?"The art of reasoning, to be sure, was the
answer; on which Swift observed that he found no
want of any such art; that he could reason without
it; and that, as far as he could observe, it had the
effect of teaching men to wrangle rather than to
reason; and, instead of clearing up obscurities,
seemed to perplex matters that were in themselves
sufficiently clear. It was his wish to employ
the reason which God had given him, which he
would leave to time and experience to strengthen
and direct, nor run the risk of having it warped or
falsely biassed by any system of rules so arbitrarily
and absurdly laid down. He considered his objec-
tions founded on truth and principle, resolutely
adhered to them, and devoted his time to history
Swift has oddly observed that he was brought over to
England by his nurse in a band-box, &c. &c. &c.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xi
and poetry; yet to pass muster he so far mas-
tered the terms, that when he went into the hall
a second time he passed his examination; but, it
is recorded, only through the influence of his
friends. It was inserted in the college register that
he obtained his degree speciali gratiâ; a circumstance
which, in reference to his unfortunate position in
other respects, must have secretly excited his anger
and contempt, more particularly if we consider that
his reading was at this time extensive and various,
and that he had already sketched out his first mas-
terly and inimitable production of "The Tale of a
Tub." It was most probably in this mood that the re-
fractory student-who finally showed how easily he
could master collegiate sophistries-lent his aid to a
production entitled the "Tripos," a satirical piece,
delivered in a speech at a common court in the uni-
versity of Dublin, July 11, 1688, by Mr. John Jones,
but attributed by Richardson and Dr. Barrett to
Swift's own pen. Scott however hazards the more
probable opinion that only a few satirical strokes
were inserted to enliven the dulness of Jones's
tirade, or his duller companion's wit; and it has
certainly not that vehement and sustained power of
invective so remarkable in Swift's earlier satirical
effusions, and most of any, in that splendid emana-
tion of wit which stands without equal or rival in
our language.
The three following years Swift passed at college,
rather from necessity than from choice, under very
depressing circumstances, dependent on the small
precarious bounty of his uncle, little known, it has
been observed, and less regarded. By collegiate
sophists and pedagogues he was in fact looked upon
as a blockhead ;a and it would seem that he returned
the compliment with interest, and, by his own admis-
sion, inserted in "The Tale of a Tub," was medi-
tating at the very time "An Account of the King-
dom of Absurdities." This design, like "The Tale of
a Tub," he may probably have communicated to the
authors of the " Tripos," and to other refractory
students who had wit enough to enter into his views
of the existing routine of scholastic education. It
was shown, it is said, to his friend Mr. Waryng
(though this is denied by the able Mr. Mason),
among the few whose society he appears at this
time to have cared to cultivate, and who were evi-
dently under the collegiate ban-not for any open
disorders, as was erroneously alleged, but for their
too keen observation and satirical disposition; the
""
a The wise collegians, perhaps, regarded the rude inscription
of his name in schoolboy fashion upon his form, and still
shown to strangers, as an additional proof of his want of logic.
"Some amusing instances are given by Mr. Mason of the efforts
made by Swift's enemies to deprive him of the honour of writ-
ing the Tale of a Tub"-not excepting Johnson and the dean's
little parson cousin, of whom he says "I should be glad to see
how far the foolish impudence of a dunce could go;" and chal-
lenges any person to prove his claim to three lines in the whole
book:-"Let him step forth and tell his name and titles; upon
which the bookseller shall have orders to prefix them to the
next edition, and the claimant shall from henceforward be
acknowledged the undisputed author." The late William
Hazlitt's remarks on this production are very excellent:-"The
Tale of a Tub" is one of the most masterly compositions in the
language, whether for thought, wit, or style. It is so capital
and undeniable a proof of the author's talents, that Dr. Johnson,
who did not like Swift, would not allow that he wrote it. It is
hard that the same performance should stand in the way of a
man's promotion to a bishopric as wanting gravity, aud at the
same time be denied to be his as having too much wit. It is a
pity the doctor did not find out some graver author for whom he
felt a critical kindness, on whom to father this splendid but
unacknowledged production." (Lecture vi., delivered at the
Surrey Institution.)
·
""
It is well known that Johnson in his private conversation fre-
quently insinuated that Swift was not the author. "I doubt,'
he says, "if the Tale of a Tub' was his; it has so much more
thinking, more knowledge, more power, more colour, than any
of the works which are indisputably his: if it was his, I shall
only say he was 'impar sibi.' ("Tour to the Hebrides.")
>>
indulgence of which led to the frequent suspension
of some, and to the expulsion of others.
ors.
Few situations in life can be imagined more pain-
ful than that of Swift about this period-smarting
under supposed humiliations-stern, high-minded-
beginning to be conscious of his own vast expansive
talents, original genius, and inimitable wit, as al-
ready manifested in his first satirical outbreaks.
The narrowness of his circumstances was such as to
forbid his joining the society of those equal to him
in birth and family; and the proud student, scorning
every kind of obligation from the higher, with a
magnanimous principle declined to associate with
those of an inferior grade. Hence he lived much
alone; and it is curious to observe how, from the
opening of his splendid career, every circumstance
seems to have combined to foster and develop the
peculiar genius and the stern unflinching rectitude
of character which impressed the proudest ministers
of state and his greatest adversaries with a deference
amounting to awe. It would appear as if every
fresh obstacle, every great disappointment, served
only to strengthen the native vigour and powers of
his extraordinary mind; and to fit him for the exer-
cise of those irresistible qualities which influenced
the fate of nations, gave peace and security to Great
Britain after a long and calamitous war, and first
emancipated Ireland from the bitter curse of slavery,
in teaching her how successfully to resist her oppress-
Had not this truly great man-distinguished
even more for his knowledge of mankind, and his
vast talents to comprehend every question connected
with the interests of humanity and civil polity, than
for his original genius-been thus early debarred the
advantages attending birth and fortune possessed by
his ancestors, received the niggardly support of a
distressed relative, and been thrown early upon the
resources of his own mind, the world might long have
wanted the entertainment,-England the advantage
and the honour, -and Ireland the political regenera-
tion,—which they have derived from the wondrous
powers of the calumniated dean of St. Patrick's.
is evident from his own words, as well as from every
circumstance in his future career, that the events of
his early life had remarkable influence upon his
future success and celebrity; for, while a poor and
distressed student, interested in courting the appro-
bation of his tutor and the masters of the college, he
had sufficient veneration for truth and the love of
sound philosophy and learning, to scorn to load his
lofty mind and vigorous intellect with the falsifying
and exploded doctrines of the schools. It was this
pertinacious love of truth and integrity which, in the
opinion of his early and best biographers, did him so
much honour; instead of being-as stated by John-
son and his abject followers, who felt obscured by
superior powers and influence of genius like the
dean's a source of ignominy and disgrace.
It
The death of Swift's uncle Godwin, of a family
disorder, it is stated-the loss of speech, and lethargy,
very similar to that which carried off the illustrious
dean-and the discovery of his embarrassed affairs,
left the poor student unprovided for, deprived at
once of the allowance which his misguided and un-
fortunate uncle could ill afford. His known hatred
to schemes and projects was derived, or at least
strengthened, by the misfortunes of the elder branch
of his family, and a humorous anecdote is related
that, when an old sea-captain once told the dean
that he had discovered the longitude, he was advised
to take care that he did not get out of his latitude,
and to take example by his uncle and so many
others, whose fate, if he did not look to it, would be
the old captain's. In fact the sterling good sense
and worldly knowledge of the future dean could
62
xij
LIFE AND WORKS OF
never hear the merits of this hopeful head of the
family descanted upon with any patience; he justly
any patience; he justly
considered that he had weakly brought discredit and
disgrace upon the humbler branches of his own
name and family, if not consigned them to hopeless
obscurity and poverty by his follies. It is no wonder
that he never loved or could bear the mention of one
with whom his early humiliation and sufferings were
so closely associated; and those who have experienced
the strange depressing power and the heartfelt torture
of misfortune, doomed to receive a scanty and stinted
allowance from the hands of distant relatives-per-
haps themselves hardly less distressed-can conceive
the nature of the torments which racked the bosom
of the high and independent minded Swift. So
painful indeed was the retrospect, that he sought to
fly "wide as the poles asunder" from all recurrence
to family relations; they were the nightmare on the
otherwise peaceful slumbers of his youth, on his
hopes, his future happiness, and perhaps the amenity
of his genius; for in the noonday of his brilliant
powers no one was more eulogised, even by his most
powerful enemies, for his good nature, courtesy, and
obliging disposition. Yet unfortunately so early in
life was the finer feeling of gratitude benumbed, that
the grand wisdom and mighty heart which would
have regenerated and embraced the world, in the
spirit of beneficence which dictated his writings,
(when rightly interpreted and understood,) were
arrested at the source, and, like a wound bleeding
inwardly, gave no sign of the pain and suffering to
the eye.
In the words of a great poet he might truly
have exclaimed, under the distressing circumstances
by which he was surrounded, often a prey to gloomy
meditations, to grief, indignation, and regret, when
joined in his solitary chamber by the few eccentric
or refractory spirits who sought for its own sake the
wit and social charm gleaming through the mental
gloom-
"When from the heart where sorrow sits
Her dusky shadow mounts too high,
And on the changing aspect flits
And clouds the brow or fills the eye;
Heed not that gloom which soon shall sink,-
My thoughts their dungeon know too well,
Back to my breast the wanderers shrink
And droop within their silent cell.
BYRON.
Yet there can be little doubt it was only by this
ordeal of dependence, self-control, and unavoidable
submission to circumstances, that Swift attained
some of those qualities which raised him to an in-
tellectual eminence from which he directed the policy
of the ablest statesmen of his day, arrested the tide
of public opinion, stripped the most popular Whigs,
even Marlborough, of their hard-won power, and
swayed the heart and passions of "the fierce demo-
cracy" to attain the particular object which he had
in view.
The sense of his forlorn condition at this period
was in some measure removed by the manner in
which his uncle, William Swift, supplied the place
of a guardian after the death of Godwin. The assist-
ance he received was conferred with a better grace,
and is said to have so far called forth the young stu-
dent's acknowledgments as to obtain for him the title
of the best of his relations. Yet the stipend was not
increased though he had attained his twentieth year,
and being barely adequate to support existence, he
naturally turned his thoughts with some anxiety to
his cousin Willoughby, the eldest son of Godwin
Swift, then engaged in mercantile business at Lisbon.
He appears to have been kindly disposed; nor was
Swift's reliance upon his friendship misplaced, for
no sooner was the merchant aware of his father's
death than he sent by a trusty hand a sum to his
cousin considerably larger than he had ever beheld
at one time. It could not have arrived more season-
ably: the lonely student, without a penny, was gazing
wistfully from his chamber window, when soon his
eye was attracted by the garb of a sea-faring man,
who by his manner seemed to be making inquiries
for some particular chamber. The thought instantly
flashed across his mind that it might be for him; he
saw him enter the building, and soon had the joy of
hearing a rap at the door and beholding a packet in
the man's hand. "Is your name Jonathan Swift ?”
was the first inquiry. "Yes, it is." "Then I have
something for you from master Swift at Lisbon," at
the same time displaying a large leathern bag, and
pouring out the silver contents upon the table. Swift
in the first transports of his joy pushed a number
towards the sailor; but the honest tar refused to
take any, declaring at the same time "that he
would do more than that for good master Willough-
by." This was the first time that Swift's disposition
with regard to money manifested itself; and if we
reflect upon the straits to which he was sometimes
reduced at college, there was both good feeling and
generosity in his offer so liberally to reward the con-
veyer of glad tidings, and assuredly nothing to coun-
tenance the charges of a mean or covetous disposition
advanced by lord Orrery and other envious maligners
of his just fame. At the same time he himself ob-
served of this special favour of an all-wise Providence,
that, instead of elating him, the reflection of his con-
stant sufferings through the want of money made
him husband the gift so well that he was never after-
wards without something in his purse.
Before accompanying the lonely and intractable
student into the world it will be proper, if not inter-
esting, to notice several other little calumnies which,
commencing with the microscopic powers of lord
Orrery, time and envious malice have magnified
through the darkened glass of the sour and evil-
dreading Johnson, who invariably most grudges his
praise to the best and greatest characters, with a bold
assertion and authority which warped even the clear
vision and fair-judging criticism of sir W. Scott.
Nearly all these charges are given upon the presumed
evidence of the college records, which not one of
these writers seems to have examined; and the entire
account of scholastic insubordination, and of the
degradation and punishments to which Swift was
subjected, confessedly rests upon an inference drawn
by the ingenious Dr. Barrett after a presumed ex-
amination of the college registers. Upon such a
supposition, so eagerly adopted, was the absurd ques-
tion first raised, and the mighty, heinous, yet ill-
founded charges brought against the collegiate cha-
racter and conduct of Swift, put into a formal state-
ment, which even if fully substantiated ought as-
suredly to be considered less disgraceful than it is
amusing. As a fair specimen of the whole, it is
gravely asserted that no record of penal infliction
occurs until a special grace for the degree of bachelor
of arts conferred on him on the 18th of February,
1685-6; and yet the terms speciali gratia are, in
the opinion of an ingenious correspondent of sir W.
Scott, only those frequently made use of upon the
formal admission of able candidates before the usual
term; and so would vanish the "penal infliction,"
were it not made much more ludicrously penal and
repeated many times over-with the exception of Dr.
Sheridan, who says not a word of humiliation, dis-
grace, or kneeling for pardon before the junior dean
-by Swift's numerous biographers. It will at least
not be unentertaining, if not edifying, to present both
sides of the question and leave it to the reader to
draw his own inference, like Dr. Barrett, simply re-
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xiii
a
The
questing him to bear in mind that the author of the
"Tale of a Tub" was not quite the senseless block-
head and poor-spirited delinquent which it has been
80 studiously sought to make him appear.
Dr.
Barrett's inferred account, as embodied by sir Walter
Scott, is to this solemn purport, not very unlike an
arraignment before the high-court of Lilliput, or
some heavy charge brought by one of the high-heels
against the low-heels :-"The disgraceful note with
which his degree had been granted probably added
to Swift's negligence and gave edge to his satirical
propensities. Between the periods of November 14th,
1685, and October 8th, 1687, he incurred no less
than seventy penalties for non-attendance at chapel;
for neglecting lectures, for being absent from the even-
ing roll-call, and for town haunting, which is the
academical phrase for absence from college without li-
cence. At length these irregularities called forth a more
solemn censure, for on March 18th, 1686-7, with his
cousin Thomas Swift, his chum Mr. Warren, and four
others, he incurred the disgrace of a public admoni-
tion for a notorious neglect of duties. His second
public punishment was of a nature yet more degrad-
lug. On November 20th, 1688, Swift, the future
oracle of Ireland, was by a sentence of the vice-pro-
vost and senior fellows of the university, convicted
of insolent conduct towards the junior dean (Owen
Lloyd), and of exciting dissension within the walls
of the college. He shared with two companions the
suspension of his academical degree, and two of the
delinquents, Swift being one, were further sentenced
to crave public pardon of the junior dean.
bitterness of spirit with which Swift submitted to
this despotic infliction, if indeed he ever obeyed it
-for of this there is no absolute proof-may be
more easily conceived than described. The sense
of his resentment shows itself in the dislike which
he exhibits to his Alma Mater, the Trinity college
of Dublin, and the satirical severity with which he
persecutes Dr. Owen Lloyd, the junior dean, before
whom he had been ordained to make this unworthy
prostration." (Scott's "Life of Swift," vol. i. p. 23.)
The unworthiness, we think there is little doubt,'
would be found to be on the side of the calumniators
of Swift's early life and conduct while at college, or
we must otherwise consider it an extraordinary fact
almost a phenomenon in literary history-that while
the writers of his own time, even his most invete-
rate enemies and his first biographers, make no men-
tion of these dreadful indignities and prostrations,
which they would have been too happy to do, it
was reserved for the writers of an after-age to dis-
cover those minute spots and shades in the solar orb
which the nearer vision and closer inspection of con-
temporary enemies and traducers - of Addison,
Steele, and the utterers of Walpole's ingenious forge-
ries, and those of his creatures, to deprive the dean
of his character for honour and integrity — could
never enable them to see. How came it that events
so recent, alleged to be so disgraceful, which on Swift's
rapid rise must have formed the darling topic and
common scandal both of colleges and courts, and
given a zest to the malignant sneers of his titled ene-
mies whom he had stung to the quick-his envious
literary revilers were never keen-sighted enough
to discover; nor had witty malignity enough to in-
vent these, along with the other calumnies circulated
by his political enemies?
We have shown that sir W. Scott qualifies his
assertion of Swift's prostration with a cautious IF,
Their names may be inferred to have been Nathaniel Jones
and John Joues, supposed authors of the " Tripos" (though Swift
was the Terræ Filius)-Mishael Vandeleur and William Brere-
tou.
|
yet afterwards concludes with the broad declaration
that he had been ordained to make this unworthy
prostration before the junior dean. Now what says
an able and enlightened correspondent of the great
biographer, whose arguments, if not well founded, are
at least ingenious? He brings forward reasons bor-
rowed from Dr. Barrett's "Life of Swift" itself, upon
which the whole of these stupid and trumpery calum-
nies as to punishment have been founded, to prove
exactly the contrary. Nay, he distinctly points out
that from Dr. Barrett's own "Life" of the dean it
appears that he graduated above a year before the
usual time, which in Trinity college, Dublin, is four
years and a half; and therefore that speciali gratiâ
must mean that he got it by merit, or if it was
afterwards suspended, as Dr. B. suggests, it might
have been restored to him on intercession of friends.
But there appears little to countenance the suppo-
sition that he was ordered to beg pardon upon his
knees, and nothing to warrant the assertion that he
submitted to such an indignity, as there is no trace
of his remaining in college after the Revolution, which
is the date Dr. Barrett assigns for that censure.
So much for the accurate examination of Dr. Bar-
rett, and for the evidences upon which to rest the
fine-spun theory of humiliation and disgrace, so
pleasing to modern critics and to that inherent but
not very honest desire, of pulling down in one age
the idol which the fiat of contemporary opinion and
the general assent of mankind have raised up in
another. Besides, it always flatters our self-love to
depreciate excellence which we cannot reach; and
it is difficult to elucidate and expose these ingenious
inquiries into Swift's failings, of which the motives,
it is evident, are to raise us in our own good opinion,
and lessen the feelings of respect and veneration we
should otherwise cherish with our belief in the sur-
passing powers, the vigour of mind, and original
genius of this extraordinary man.
"The dates, moreover," continues Dr. Barrett's
refuter, "are very confused and contradictory as to
the two Swifts; and while he allows Thomas Swift
to have had a scholarship, and suspects that Jonathan
had not, he forgets that very few ever remain in
Trinity college, Dublin, after graduating, unless
they enjoy scholarships; and that Jonathan Swift
had one appears further from his remaining in com-
mons, and being, according to Dr. B., suspended
from commons by way of punishment, after gradu-
ating, which could be no punishment at all to him
if his commons were not at the charge of the uni-
versity." (See note to Scott's " "Life.")
If further testimony were wanting to overthrow
the brittle fabric of these idle old wives' tales of the
dean's early degeneracy, and the strange freaks and
vagaries which so long possessed him of running his
head against the walls of his college, and frighting
the ancient deans and proctors from out their pro-
priety, it is to be found in a letter from Richardson
to lady Bradshaigh, dated April 22nd, 1752, in
which he says, "I am told my lord Orrery is mis-
taken in some of his facts; for instance, in that
wherein he asserts that Swift's learning was a late
acquirement. I am very well warranted by the son
of an eminent divine, a prelate, who was three years
what is called his chum, in the following account of
that fact. Dr. Swift made as great progress in his
learning at the university of Dublin in his youth as
any of his contemporaries." Leaving, however,
these knotty points, with Dr. Barrett, to conjecture,
it may be admitted that nothing short of college dis-
cipline and the heavy yoke of dependence could
sufficiently have restrained Swift's stern and haughty
spirit, by placing over him those two unflinching
Air
LIFE AND WORKS OF
guardians, poverty and pride, during the most dan-
gerous period of his life. They taught him early
how to regulate his mind and passions, to inure
himself to thought and toil, and by calm reading
and meditations on history and living manners to
prepare himself for the distinguished part he was
destined to perform. That such a character could
at the same time have been that of a low college re-
probate, brawler, and haunter of obscure taverns,
rather exceeds the bounds of human belief, espe-
cially when it is admitted that there is such extreme
confusion in regard to dates and the names of the
two cousins as to have given rise to erroneous state-
ments in other respects. On the breaking out of
the civil broils in Ireland, Swift, then in his twenty-
first year, left that kingdom to visit his mother at
Leicester, anxious to consult with her in regard to
his future prospects. On reaching England he
proceeded on foot, his usual mode of travelling from
the commencement of his career, to his mother's
dwelling, without friends, interest, or money-cir-
cumstances, however, to which we perhaps owe the
future author of Gulliver, whom affluence might at
once have made a contented bishop or a renowned
professor. He had now the pain of beholding his
mother almost wholly dependent on the precarious
bounty of friends. With her he remained some
months, and she judiciously advised him without
hesitation to communicate his circumstances to sir
William Temple, the distinguished statesman, who
had married one of her relations.a This advice
Swift resolved without longer delay to pursue, and
accordingly again set off on foot for Sheen, at which
seat the most accomplished scholar and the wisest
as well as most experienced man of his times was
then residing, aloof from the intrigues and corrup-
tions of a court. Sir William received him not only
with his usual urbanity and politeness, but with
great kindness, of which the fact of Swift's first resi-
dence with him during a space of two years-how-
ever annoying it may have proved, in regard to trivial
circumstances, to one of his irritable disposition and
pride-may be considered as a sufficient proof. His
story was heard with compassionate attention, and
his sensible compliance with his mother's wishes, in
submitting his natural pride to the dictates of duty-
his dignified and self-respecting manner, together
with his friendless position-all appealed to the good
feeling and generosity of a man like sir William
Temple.b In this elegant retreat, where he was
comparatively his own master, free from the arbi-
trary surveillance and little inquisitorial rules of
college life, Swift found what was most valuable to
him-sound advice to direct the prosecution of his
studies, refined society and conversation, leisure for his-
torical researches and undisturbed reflections. With a
zeal and resolution almost unprecedented in the an-
nals of study, and only equalled by the fire and vigour
It was during this visit that Swift's first love affair occurred.
He became enamoured of a miss Betty Jones, afterwards Mrs.
Perkins, of the George inn, Loughborough. (See his letters to
Mr. Kendall and Mr. Worrall.)
b The statement made by a nephew of sir William and re-
peated by sir W. Scott and some other biographers, that Swift
was hired by his uncle to read to him, and to be his amanuen-
sis, at the rate of 201. a year and his board-high preferment
to him at that time-and that he was not admitted to his con-
versation or to sit at table with him, is another specimen of those
injurious fictions to which we cannot allude in terms of too
much severity. So the man, it appears, who was admitted
to the intimate confidence of his noble relative and friend-who
dined at the same table with William III., who in the intimacy
of discourse taught him to eat asparagus in the Dutch fashion
-who was intrusted with secret missions to the king-who
was selected to edite his uncle's works (for such sir William
was by marriage), and to whom he left a legacy as a mark of
gratitude--we are to conclude dined in the servants' hall!
of his native genius, Swift recommenced his system,
of self-education upon a more regular and enlarged
plan than any pursued by the sophistical heads of a
college, and extended it from poetry and history, long
his favourite pursuits, to other important branches
of human learning, which he now prosecuted with
an avidity necessary to every great writer; surpass-
ing that attributed to Cervantes, Rabelais, Molière,
and Pope; and with an unremitting assiduity in
accordance with his more happy and improved cir-
cumstances. From the more known and read he
extended his inquiries to the more abstruse and
laborious writers; and, it is said, had the courage
to encounter the profundities of Cyprian and Ire-
næus. No wonder the first interruption of these
studious habits and intense application was the recur-
rence of a disorder which had attacked him at a still
carlier period of life, attributed by him to a surfeit of
fruit that induced a peculiar coldness of stomach,
giddiness, and momentary loss of recollection-
symptoms of the same disorder of which his uncle
Godwin had died. His complaint became so violent
that he was advised by his physician to try the bene-
fit of his native air, but, receiving no advantage
from the change, he returned to sir William Temple's,
who had meanwhile removed to Moor-park, near
Farnham. Here he met with the utmost sympathy
from its distinguished owner, who obtained for him
fresh advice; and Swift was enjoined to take more
constant and more violent exercise, which he daily
practised by running up a hill, it is said, near the house,
and back again, every two hours; the distance being
about half a mile, which he used to perform in less
than six minutes. It is not surprising that, afflicted
with a disorder of so dangerous and tormenting a
nature, which gradually increased until it terminated
in total debility and prostration of mind, he should
snatch at any chance that offered to relieve him from
so disagreeable a companion. But, with all due
deference to medical knowledge, the writer of this
may observe as a curious fact, having been a perse-
vering pedestrian in his day, that the only unplea-
sant symptom of which he, in common with all other
peripatetics whom he met, had reason to complain,
was an occasional giddiness and a sense of coldness
and weakness of the stomach after long-continued
exertion. Now, if it is recollected that the dean was
not only a determined student and a most rapid
writer, by fits and starts, amidst all the turmoil of
court visits, literary patronage, and state councils,
but that he was, on economic principle and by the
advice of his physicians, accustomed to perform all
his long journeys (each of hundreds of miles) on foot,
it is no forced or unfounded theory to assume that
he either contracted or greatly aggravated the dis-
order with which he was afflicted, by the means he
was advised to take for its removal. If a cause like
this, or that of having eaten an improper quantity of
fruit, is adequate to account for the affliction with
which throughout life he was visited, it seems as
violent as it is a harsh and unjustifiable supposition
to attribute such a misfortune to early immoral ex-
Yet there are men who, in accordance with
the system of defamation pursued, have not scrupled
to insult the memory of Swift, and to vilify that
great and moral character which extorted the ad-
miration of his worst enemies, and won the applause
and veneration of his friends, by the magnanimity
with which he provided for and protected his poli-
tical adversaries, when provoked by their ingratitude
almost beyond human endurance to "whistle them
down the winds, a prey to fortune." It is mortify-
ing to reflect that, in order to account for a certain
eccentricity of conduct usually found to accompany
cesses.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
XV
a
genius of an original and exalted kind, and for a dis-
temper which most probably was owing to an in-
herent malady, a learned physician could be found,
so lost to reason and science, so dead to honour and
the duties of his profession, as directly to ascribe the
vertigo of Swift, with all its distressing conse-
quences, "to habits of early and profligate indul-
gence."
justice to the calumniated dean-unhappy enough
in the company of such baneful guests for lifeª—
and from the necessary obligation of a biographer not
to shrink from the question;-it appears that about
this time Temple began to discover some of the great
qualities of his young relation's mind, his striking
originality of remark and acute powers of reasoning
and observation; so that Swift himself has recorded
It is with feelings of unalloyed delight that the that he then grew still more in confidence with him.
writer can in this instance record the clear-sighted He was always admitted to sir William's confidential
views and the triumphant refutation of this cruel interviews with the king, who was then in the habit
and absurd calumny by the immortal author of of visiting at Moor-park to consult him whom he
"Waverley," who, though little inclined to do more vainly wished to make his prime minister; and
than strict justice to an author who launched his the great statesman being often confined to his
severest philippics against the Scotch nobility and chamber by the gout, the duty of making known
people, yet holds the scales with an even hand, as his sentiments and advising with his majesty de-
far as his knowledge of the subject extended, and
volved upon
Swift. It must have been an amusing
never consciously advanced that which he did not scene; and the entertainment was no doubt mutual ;
believe to be the strict truth. "To the hypothesis for while the king, all whose ideas ran upon the
of this ingenious writer," says the illustrious bio- extermination of his species-war, thought it the
grapher, "we may oppose, first, the express declara-highest honour to offer to the studious poet, then
tion of Swift himself that this distressing malady
originated in the surfeit mentioned in the text, a
cause which medical professors have esteemed ade-
quate to produce such consequences. Secondly,
his whole intercourse with Stella and Vanessa indi-
cates the very reverse of an ardent or licentious ima-
gination, and proves his coldness to have been con-
stitutionally inherent, both in mind and person, and
utterly distinct from that of one who retains wishes
which he has lost the power to gratify. Those who
choose to investigate this matter farther may com-
pare Swift's 'Journal to Stella' with Pope's 'Let-
ters to the Misses Blount,' in which there really
exists evidence of that mixture of friendship, passion,
and licentious gallantry, which the author of "Hygeia"
has less justly ascribed to the correspondence be-
tween Swift and Stella. Lastly, it may be briefly
noticed that the coarse images and descriptions with
which Swift dishonoured his pages are of a descrip-
tion directly opposite to the loose impurities by
which the exhausted voluptuary feeds his imagina-
tion.
We may therefore take Swift's word for
the origin of his malady as well as for his constitu-
tional temperance. And until medical authors can
clearly account for and radically cure the diseases of
their contemporary patients, they may be readily ex-
cused from assigning dishonourable causes for the
disorders of the illustrious dead."-(Note to "Life,”
pp. 25-29.)
•
•
•
This masterly refutation of so calumnious a charge
is creditable to the generally enlightened biographer
of the extraordinary genius and no less wonderful
wit whom he has commemorated; and it might
moreover be remarked that, in all cases brought
before the tribunal of public opinion where doubts
exist, as is actually the fact with regard to some of
these newly broached aspersions on Swift's moral
and political character, it is invariably allowed to
give the accused the benefit of those doubts-par-
ticularly when his most intimate contemporaries and
his nearest neighbours had never either heard of or
raised any malicious reports of the kind. But to
dismiss this unworthy discussion, obtruded only in
a The learned Dr. Beddoes, who, in the ninth essay of his
work called "Hygeia," pursues a train of fallacies in unison
with those so fond of raking, like lord Orrery, into the offals of
genius-straining every natural infirmity into moral turpitude,
raising mole-hills into mountains, and delighting to revel in the
humiliation and misfortunes of true greatness.
As a further specimen of the same medical sagacity which
advised Swift to run up a hill every two hours, which attributed
his giddiness and deafness to profligacy and excesses, we
shall insert, for the amusement of our readers, the notable pre-
scription for his cure, by another physician, Dr. Radcliffe, for
a noisse in the head and deflness proseeding from a colde
moyst humor in the head;" which, if taken, in all human pro-
bability added not a little to the existing malady :-"Take a
busied in composing Pindaric odes, a whole troop
of horse, and to teach him to eat asparagus in the
Dutch fashion, stalks and all,b the views of the latter
were directed to the more pacific aim of church
preferment. Nor is it unlikely that he obtained
some definite promise to that effect; for that he evi-
dently counted upon it appears from a letter (1692)
addressed to his uncle, in which he says,
not to take orders till the king gives me a prebend."
"I am
In the fourth year of his residence with sir William
Temple, Swift went to take his master's degree at
Oxford, to which he was admitted on the 6th of
July, 1692. He was much pleased with the courtesy
and urbanity shown him upon this occasion, and
pointedly observed that he felt himself under greater
obligations within a few weeks to strangers, than
ever he had been in seven years to Dublin college:
"Oxford to him a dearer name shall be
Than his own mother university;
Thebes did his green unknowing youth engage,
He chooses Athens in his riper age."-(Dryden.)
The reception which he thus met with in the firs
seat of British learning, independent of his connex-
ion with Temple, afforded a satisfactory proof of
the successful progress of his studies; and, inspired
as he always appeared in his happier moments, it
was at Oxford that he offered his first poetical effu-
pint of sack whey, make very clear half sack and half water;
boyle it in sum plane racel sage and a sprige of rosemary;
take it gowing to rest, with thirty or forty drops of spirit of
hartshorn; continue it as long as you find benefit by it" (he safely
might) "specially the winter season; he may sweaten or not with
sirop of cowslep." He ordered "allsoe a spice capp, to be made
of clowes, masse, and pepper, mingled, finely powned, and put
between two silke, and quelted to wear next the head, and for
a season to be sowed inside his wig.
""
In a letter from the dean to Mrs. Howard (Aug. 19, 1727)
he observes, "About two years before you were born I got my
giddiness by eating a hundred gold piprins at a time at Rich-
mond; and when you were four years and a quarter old, 'bat-
ing two days, having made a fine seat about twenty miles.
farther in Surrey, where I used to read-there I got my deaf-
ness; and these two friends have visited me one or other every
year since, and being old acquaintance have now thought fit
to come together."
b"Alderman George Faulkner of Dublin, the well-known
bookseller, happening one day to dine in company with Dr.
Leland the historian, the conversation reverted to the illustrious
dean of St. Patrick's. Faulkner, who was the dean's printer
and publisher on many occasions, mentioned that, one day
being detained late at the deanery house in correcting some
proof-sheets for the press, Swift made the worthy alderman
stay to dinner. Amongst other vegetables, asparagus formed
one of the dishes. The dean helped his guest, who shortly
again called upon his host, when the dean, pointing to the alder
man's plate,first finish, sir, what you have got upon your
plate.''What, sir, eat my stalks?' Ay, sir, king William
always eat his stalk.' And, George," rejoined the historian
(who was himself remarkably proud and very pompous), were
you blockhead enough to obey him?' Yes, doctor; and if you
had dined with dean Swift tête-à-tête, you would have been
obliged to eat your stalks too.”—(Scott).
4
xvi
LIFE AND WORKS OF
sions to the muse. One of these was a version of
an ode of Horace (book ii., ode 18), written with
considerable ease and spirit; and about the same
time sir William and lady Temple pressed him to
write his Pindaric odes, composed in the still pre-
vailing taste of that day, and which may be pro-
nounced not inferior of the kind to those of Cowley
and Donne. They are addressed to Temple, to
the king, and to the Athenian Society-" a knot of
obscure individuals," says Johnson, "who published
a periodical pamphlet of answers to questions, sent,
or supposed to be sent, by letters. I have been
told," he adds, "that Dryden, having perused these
verses, said, 'Cousin Swift, you will never be a
poet;' so that this denunciation was the motive
of Swift's perpetual malevolence to Dryden."-
("Life," p. 6.)
Soon after the removal of sir William Temple to
Moor-park, near Farnham, whither he was accom-
panied by Swift, it happened that a bill was brought
into the house for triennial parliaments, to which
the king was much opposed, and despatched the earl
of Portland to sir William for advice, who advocated
the measure, but endeavoured to remove the royal
scruples without effect. Having now a high opinion
of Swift's talents, and of his intimate acquaintance
with English history, he deputed him to wait upon
his majesty, and explain and argue the matter at
greater length. Of this mission he acquitted himself
with great credit, though it was not attended with
success; it was in vain he tried to convince the
king, and when he entered more fully into the
subject with the minister he was informed that the
obstacle was insurmountable, and at the same time
the measure was rejected by the house. This was
the first time Swift had come into contact with courts,
and he has frankly acknowledged that it was the
first incident that helped to cure him of vanity.
After a residence of about six weeks at the uni-
versity, having entered himself at Hart's-hall, and
obtained his degree of master of arts, Swift left
Oxford to pay a visit to his mother, and then re-
turned to Moor-park. From this period, it seems,
he became anxious to establish himself in the world,
and sought to realise those promises of preferment
which had been held out to him. Still he continued
to discharge the offices of humanity and friendship
towards his illustrious relative for a space of two
years, when, justly suspecting perhaps that he de-
layed providing for him from selfish views, and
aware that his society had become agreeable as well
as useful and necessary, he conceived it only justice
to himself to remind sir William of the subject.
The discussion which ensued was not of a pleasing
nature. His patron was extremely anxious to have
an accurate copy of all his writings, and Swift's ad-
vice and assistance would here be invaluable. Owing
to the great statesman's increasing infirmities, the
progress had been necessarily slow, ill adapted to
one of Swift's vigorous mind and love of despatch.
They are said to have parted with mutual dissatis-
faction: sir William offered him some paltry em-
ployment in the Rolls-office in Ireland, of which he
was then master, worth about 1207. per annum.
He must have known that this was quite unsuited
to Swift's habits and inclinations; and he replied
with spirit, "that, since this offer relieved him from
the charge of being driven into the church for a
maintenance, he was resolved to go to Ireland to
take holy orders." At the same time sir William is
This fully disproves the assertion of lord Orrery, that
Swift was supported at the university of Oxford during a
period of three years, with the invidious conclusions which he
thence draws, of the same character, and equally well founded,
as those attributed to Mr. Temple, the nephew of sir William.
stated to have refused to pledge himself with respect
to Swift's future promotion in the event of his con-
senting to remain with him; and he no longer hesi-
tated to seek his own fortune. Upon his arrival,
however (early in 1694), Swift found that he could
not be ordained without a testimonial of his good
conduct during his residence with sir William; and
he is stated to have delayed nearly five months be-
fore he would consent to obtain such a recommend-
ation by a kind of submission which must have been.
extremely grating to his feelings. This document it
appears, however, was accompanied by a letter to lord
Capel from his patron, the prompt arrival of which
seems to throw doubts upon the article of submis-
sion, of which there is no evidence that it was ever
required; and the result was that Swift was offered
the prebend of Kilroot, in the diocese of Connor;
and to this small living, happy in his newly acquired
independence, he retired. His letters for deacon's
orders were dated 28th October, 1694, and those for
priest's orders 13th January, 1694-5; and he was
ordained into both by William King, at that time
bishop of Derry.
We are informed by Mr. Monck Mason that the
pathetic story, told by Sheridan and repeated by sir
W. Scott, of Swift afterwards procuring this living
for an aged clergyman who lent him his horse to ride
to obtain it, has no foundation whatever. He is re-
presented "as the father of a numerous family, who,
a Considerable doubts, of which Swift ought still to have the
benefit, are entertained on this head. It is justly remarked by
Mr. Monck Mason that "the letter was taken from a copy of a
transcript from the original: it may be genuine, but I like not
this sort of evidence, and am sure the admission of such will
more frequently lead to error than truth." It is indeed sin-
gular that so many of the documents implicating the dean rest
on the same foundation.
b It will nevertheless be only justice to Swift's memory to give
this alleged trait of his generosity and magnanimity-inasmuch
as we have made it a principle from which we must not
shrink, to meet the numerous envious and calumnious charges
brought against him, and which have not only been insinuated
but broadly asserted on worse than hearsay evidence—often
with an affected effort at exculpation, to give weight to them-
to which the creatures of Walpole and Swift's Whig enemies
had invariably recourse -
"
Willing to wound and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike."
And how could he expect to escape, when men like Wharton,
Steele, and the whole tribe of Whig corruptionists-with the ex-
ception of Addison and a few of the better class, whom he nobly
kept in their offices-were hallooed on by the great whipper-
in (Walpole) to worry and defame all he could not corrupt?
If Mr. Mason's dates therefore had only consorted with it, we
should have been strongly inclined to give credence to the
following incident, which is said to have occurred on occasion
of Swift giving up his living at Kilroot.
•
"In an excursion from his habitation he met a clergyman with
whom he formed an acquaintance, which proved him to be
learned, modest, well-principled, the father of eight children, and
a curate at the rate of forty pounds a-year. Without explaining
his purpose, Swift borrowed this gentleman's black mare,
having no horse of his own-rode to Dublin-resigned the pre-
bendary of Kilroot, and obtained a grant of it for this new
friend. When he gave the presentation to the poor clergyman,
he kept his eyes steadily fixed on the old man's face, which at
first showed pleasure at finding himself preferred to a living; but
when he found that it was that of his benefactor, who had re-
signed in his favour, his joy assumed so touching an expression
of surprise and gratitude that Swift himself, deeply affected,
declared he had never experienced so much pleasure as at that
moment. The poor clergyman, at Swift's departure, pressed
upon him the black mare, which he did not choose to hurt him
by refusing; and thus mounted for the first time on a horse of
his own, with fourscore pounds in his purse, Swift again em-
barked for England, and resumed his situation at Moor-park
as sir William Temple's confidential secretary." (Scott.,
All that remains to be said on this curious story is with the
Italian "Se non è vero, è ben trovato;" and perhaps of the two it
is much fairer to speak that which is good of the illustrious dead,
ill-founded though it be, than studiously to seek, with his worst
political enemies, to blacken his memory by a series of injuri-
ous forgeries, of which the real authors remain in the dark,
while only the utterers at secondhand give currency to them, as
usual with counterfeit coin. Where are the originals to fix
any
deeper stigma on him than that of great pride and ambition?
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xvii
on account of his poverty, was unable to provide for
them. It is a pity," adds this accurate and ingenuous
writer, "that, being so very interesting, it should not
be true, which appears from the following circum-
stances. First, Swift was not in Ireland when he re-
signed the living, but resident with sir William Tem-
ple. He held this benefice two years, contrary to
the generally conceived opinion, and was resident at
Moor-park from June, 1696, till sir William's death,
as appears by his letters. Secondly, the person in
whose favour he resigned was not an indigent cler-
gyman, as is well known to his family; he had him-
self a moderate estate in that country, and formed
several respectable connexions. It appears that he
was neither old, poor, nor the father of a family. That
he was not old is farther manifest from the fact of his
having had a correspondence with Swift so late as
the year 1731." a
It may here not improperly be remarked, that, if so
little reliance is to be placed upon an account closely
connected with time, place, and circumstance, re-
peated by all Swift's biographers, and which redounds
so highly to his credit, how cautiously we ought to
receive also those reports to his prejudice, arising
out of confused names and dates at college, and from
copies of letters taken from other copies, the evidence
of which Mr. Mason so judiciously questions, and
the original of which neither the transcribers who
communicated them, nor the parties who adopted
them, appear to have seen. We think an additional
proof likewise that on the occasion of the presenta-
tion to his living, Swift was required to make no
undue submission to his distinguished relative, is the
fact of his being so early invited back by sir William,
who became sensible how necessary he was to his
existence. It is most probable, under all the cir-
cumstances, that the apology, or submission as it is
absurdly termed, came not from the injured party
but from him who had committed the error, who
sought to atone for it, who now stood in need of the
support and friendship which he had failed to value
as they deserved, and who had in absence more truly
estimated Swift's worth and talents. To the voice of
friendship and suffering he could never turn a deaf
ear; and in 1695 he repaired to Moor-park, where
he continued to reside till sir William's death,
which took place in January, 1698. There are
abundant evidences both in the dean's and Temple's
own letters to show that they again met upon terms
of gentlemanly equality, without the most remote
allusion to apologies or submission on either side
beyond what the obligation thus conferred upon a
dying relative and a great man, may be supposed
to have awakened upon reflection in sir William's
just and well-regulated mind. From that hour his
friend and companion not only devoted himself with
constant and unremitting care to smooth the pillow
of declining age; to lighten the hours of pain, and
relieve them by his social converse and wit; but he
became his right arm in conducting his literary ar-
rangements to a close, while the affection with which
he regarded the dying statesman is shown in the
memoranda which he so scrupulously kept of the
changes and variations which marked his departure.
Were any proofs wanting of the correctness of this
view of the subject, they are supplied by the laudable
industry and the ability of Mr. M. Mason, in his
excellent work, who has given the correspondence
which ensued between Swift and the representatives
of the Temple family. Every word speaks highly
in favour of the theory we have ventured to adopt in
a From the admirably written and very entertaining work
entitled "Historical Annals of the Collegiate and Cathedral
Church of St. Patrick," by William Monck Mason.
(
this "Life;" and in proportion to the genuine light
| obtained and which can be thrownL upon the doubt-
ful or disputed points of Swift's early history, the
more unexceptionable will it be found to appear.
For this purpose, and that of giving novelty and
freshness to former narratives relating to this period,
too much resembling each other, the observations of
Mr. M. are here given at length. "Swift," he says,
was settled at Moor-park in June, 1696, and from
that time forth until sir William's death in 1698 he
continued to reside in his house, except when he
made an occasional excursion to visit his mother,
who received during this time frequent remittances
from his favourite uncle William and his cousin
Willoughby Swift." Swift manifested at all times a
great respect for sir William Temple; his intimacy
however with the male descendants of that baronet
was finally terminated in 1726 by an opprobrious
letter of lord Palmerstown, in answer to one of
Swift which contained a request in favour of a
friend, by no means meriting so unhandsome a reply.
There is no passage in Swift's first epistle that can
excuse the following paragraph of his lordship's an-
swer:-"My desire is to be in charity with all men :
could I say as much of you, you had sooner inquired
of this matter, or if you had any regard for a family
you owe so much to; but I fear you hugged the false
report, to cancel all feelings of gratitude that must
ever glow in a generous breast, and to justify what
you had declared, that no regard to the family was
any restraint to you. These great refinements are
past my understanding, and can only be compre-
hended by your great wits."
This vile insinuation received an answer tempe-
rate to a degree that will astonish the reader who is
apprised of the irritable temper of Swift: his reply
to this taunting ungenerous epistle is a chef-d'œuvre.
He asks the noble peer "what title he could have to
give such contumelious treatment to one who never
did him the least injury or received from him the
least obligation?" "I own myself indebted to sir
William Temple for recommending me to the late
king, although without success, and for his choice
of me to take care of his posthumous writings. But
I hope you will not charge my living in his family
as an obligation; for I was educated to little pur-
pose if I retired to his house for any other motives
than the benefit of his conversation and advice, and
the opportunity of pursuing my studies; for, being
born to no fortune, I was at his death as far to seek
as ever; and perhaps you will allow that I was of
some use to him." Swift's advantage, it is correctly
added, in this short conflict was commensurate to
the superiority of his understanding. And it was
to this superiority, and to that lofty independence of
character, which raised the literary men of his day
so much higher in the estimation of all parties,
broadly contrasting with the venality of Dryden and
the writers of preceding reigns, that Swift was in-
debted, as well as to his sterling sense and wit, for the
immense influence which he exercised upon his times.
That he at the same time possessed great sensibility
and could both entertain and inspire strong affec-
tion, was shown by the manner in which Temple
latterly regarded his distinguished nephew (at least
in law), and may be seen from a letter by Mrs. Jane
Swift (May 26, 1699), the dean's sister, who says-
"My poor brother has lost his best friend sir W.
Temple, who was so fond of him while he lived that
he made him give up his living in this county (the
prebend of Kilroot) to stay with him at Moor-park,
and promised to get him one in England; but death
came in between, and has left him unprovided both
of friend and living.”
xviii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
If
And such in fact was the result of Swift's having
complied with the invitation of sir William to return
to Moor-park, a kind and generous proceeding
which made it doubly incumbent upon the party
benefited to lose not a moment's time in returning
it in the same manly and grateful spirit; but this he
neglected to do, and left Swift unprovided for as he
had found him. With regard to the legacy said to
have been left (1007. in a codicil to his will) along
with the bequest that Swift should edite an edition
of his entire works, we are at a loss to see more in
this than the personal interest of the author and the
statesman, who seems to have satisfied his conscience
with the prospective advantage such a task might
afford him, in addition to a doubtful promise known
to have been obtained from king William of a pre-
bendary's stall at Canterbury or Westminster.
we wished to display in a stronger light Swift's
greatness and magnanimity of spirit in these circum-
stances, we might refer to his own words, which
evince the regard which he entertained for his de-
ceased friend, concluding with the following remark-
able observations :-" He died at one o'clock in the
morning, and with him all that was great and good
among men.
And another memorandum contains
the following high and honourable eulogy of his
character as a statesman and a scholar:-" He was
a person of the greatest wisdom, justice, liberality,
politeness, eloquence, of his age and nation. The
truest lover of his country, and one who deserved
more from it by his eminent public services than
any man before or since, besides his great deserving
of the commonwealth of having been universally es-
teemed the most accomplished writer of his time."
| Moor-park, he seems to have more assiduously
courted the relief of poetical composition, which he
had first commenced at Oxford; and in some of
these occasional effusions the tenor of his mind and
thoughts is strongly depicted,
strongly depicted, bearing that impress
of mingled sorrow and indignation which the aspect.
of things around him and his future prospects were
calculated to inspire. Another feature of them is
the decided hatred which he expresses against folly
and vice, and the power with which he strove to ex-
pose them in proportion as they extended their bane-
ful influence from high places:—
"
My hate whose lash just Heaven had long decreed
Shall on a day make sin and folly bleed.
And in those interesting verses, so honourable to his
right feelings, "on the Illness and Recovery of Sir
William Temple,” he gives expression to sentiments
evincing a lofty sense of duty, a strength of virtuous
will, and a disdain of mercenary motives or mean
compliances, which carry a strong presumption of his
previous habits of self-command and of his uniform
consistency and high principle, deviations from
which were only likely to occur from the predomi-
nance of pride or ambition. They are the more re-
markable as having been written in some moment
when extreme suffering or other causes had given to
the manner of his friend and host, Temple, a degree
of distance or coldness of which Swift subsequently
complained, and was heard humorously to declare
"that in faith sir William had spoiled a fine gentle-
man,” in allusion to his harsh manner. Addressing
the muse in the style that was still in vogue from the
days of Charles II., and which was of itself sufficient
to render Swift's earlier pieces-had they possessed
greater merit,-neglected and obsolete, he exclaims
in an emphatic tone,—
"To thee I owe that fatal bent of mind,
Still to unhappy restless thoughts inclined;
To thee what oft I vainly strive to hide,
That scorn of fools by fools mistook for pride
From thee whatever virtue takes its rise
Grows a misfortune and becomes a vice;
Such were thy rules to be as good as great-
Stoop not to interest, flattery, or deceit;
Nor with hired thoughts be thy devotion paid ;
Learn to disdain their mercenary aid;
Be this thy sure defence, thy brazen wall,
Know no base action, at no guilt look pale :
And since unhappy distance thus denies
T'expose thy soul, clad in this poor disguise;
Since thy few ill-presented graces seem
"
If we consider for a moment the situation of Swift
when this splendid character of Temple was written;
that he owed the profession he possessed, without
fortune or preferment, wholly to his own good sense
and resolution; and that, had he complied with his
patron's first injunction to remain with him, he must
have been cast friendless again upon the world, after
eight years, the most valuable of his life, the great-
est portion of which he had devoted to the interest
and reputation of his friend-as regards obligation
on Swift's side nothing can be said. For when, by
his own discerning spirit and wise energy, he had
made himself master of a profession, the utmost that
sir William's care is known to have procured him
was an obscure living in which a genius like Swift's
may be said to have been buried alive-not pro-
moted; and where, far from meeting society conge-
nial to his temper and habits, he beheld only the de-
gradation and sufferings of the people, withering
under the blasting influence of the then dominant
Whig party, the champions at that time of war, and
the originators-with the help of bishop Burnet-of
the public debt, paper money, corruption, and all
the fruitful calamities to which Swift even then
saw they must inevitably give rise. The public
spirit and patriotism by which he seems so carly to
have been actuated, and for which alone he entered
on a literary carcer, breathe in almost every line of
his early poetry, in his imitations, his Pindaric odes,
and satirical effusions, which possess a fire and
vigour that by no means merited the doubtful and
ill-substantiated condemnation-stated on Johnson's
hearsay already alluded to-of his great cousin Dry-ries, writhing under the infliction of some of his
den. In his humble and cheerless retirement, in-
deed, at Kilroot, and his subsequent residence at
* If any evidence of this fact is required it will be enough to
refer to one of those occasional essays, written by Swift when
in Ireland, and given for the first time entire in the present edi-
tion of his works, from a copy of the "Intelligencer" that ap-
pears to have been in his own possession, and which contains
his remarks and signature at the end of each paper.
To breed contempt where thou had'st hoped esteem.'
In the sudden outbreaks of satirical passion, and in
spontaneous unpremeditated lines like these, even
more than in his letters, we seem to read his early
character and feelings, the secret heart and spirit
which sat alone in their self-sustained power and calm
yet indignant grandeur, brooding over the philo-
sophy, the sad moral of history, examining and ar-
raigning before the tribunal of his judgment and
conscience the motives by which he was then ac-
tuated. Before following him however from the
shades of Kilroot and the elegant seclusion of
Moor-park, into that active world where his genius
shone with unrivalled splendour, it becomes (so soon
again) the writer's painful duty to set at rest another
of those absurd and calumnious falsehoods, invented
doubtless long after the period to which it is referred,
by some of his humbled and perhaps titled adversa-
keen satiric truths, and, unable to meet him in the
field of manly argument, trying to arrest his fierce
pursuit, like certain animals whose last chance of
escape lies in exciting extreme disgust and nausea in
their conquerors; and it is a curious fact that, with
regard to Steele's baseness and ingratitude, Swift
actually declared that by his shameless and impu-
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xix
dent proceedings he had quite put it out of his
(Swift's) power to do him any injury. We can only
desire, in alluding to a charge so preposterous, to
show that we consider it indispensable for every one
who treats the life of a distinguished man not to
conceal or disguise the truth, or attempt by any side.
wind to edge out of a question, however difficult or
however trivial the circumstances. At the same
time, it is a source of regret that sir Walter Scott or
some of his other biographers evinced not some
spark of the fiery scorn and indignation which would
have actuated the dean himself, had he been able to
detect the vile calumniator, and thus have spared
future biographers of this celebrated man the strong
aversion they must feel in dwelling upon such mean
and despicable calumnies, when so many nobler and
more inviting themes lie before them. It would be
enough in any other case to observe that the name of
the infamous lord Wharton is connected with it;
but it seems to have been the fate of Swift-from the
loftier eminence which he occupied, from his vast
talents and unrivalled influence, and from one or
two unhappy passages in his after life-to have
offered a wider and safer mark for the shafts of ca-
lumny, and from the superior strength and vividness
of his intellectual flashes to have shown more clearly
the innumerable little motes in his mental sun.
"Ex uno disce omnes" might indeed be adduced
as a motto for the series of calumnies which
spring from such a cause; but, if only as speci-
mens of the human nature which he himself painted,
they are sometimes not unentertaining when the
motives of the parties interested are understood. |
Like most others, this foul calumny carries with it
its own refutation by the strong array of facts and
dates which, in addition to invalidating the particu-
lar charge by circumstantial evidence, present a
general body of truths sufficient in themselves be-
fore the severest tribunal of justice to exonerate the
character of the dean, even upon the ground of
moral reputation and public character. The account
of it given by sir Walter Scott will be found in the
appended note, and to this will be subjoined his
masterly, but not perhaps sufficiently indignant and
emphatic, reply. For there cannot be a doubt that,
In an edition of the "Tatler" in six volumes, 1786, executed
with uncommon accuracy and care, there occurs a noto upon
No. 188, which among other strictures on Swift's history men-
tious the following alleged fact:-" Lord Wharton's remarkable
words allude not only to the odium Swift had contracted as the
known or supposed author of the Tale of a Tub,' &c., but they
scem to point more particularly to a flagrant part of his crimi-
nality at Kilroot not so generally known. A general account
of this offence is all that is requisite here, and all that decency
permits.
a
1
"In consequence of an attempt to ravish one of his parishion-
ers, a farmer's daughter, Swift was carried before a magistrate
of the name of Dobbs (in whose family the examinations taken
on the occasion are said to be still extant to this day), and to
avoid the very serious consequences of this rash action imme-
diately resigned the prebend and quitted the kingdom. This
intelligence was communicated, and vouched as a fact well
known in the parish even now, by one of Swift's successors in
the living, and is rested on the authority of the present pre-
bendary of Kilroot, February 6th, 1785."
It was not to be supposed that a charge so inconsistent with
Swift's general character for virtuc, religion, and temperance
should remain unanswered; accordingly a reply was addressed
to the editor of the Gentleman's Magazine, by Theophilus Swift,
esq., who was zealous for the honour of his great relation, but
it was refused admission on account of its length. An answer
is also to be found in Mr. Monck Berkeley's "Reliques;" and in
both cases the advocates of Swift, or rather his vindicators, urge
the utter improbability of the charge, considering the circum-
stances of the case. It was shown by Mr. Berkeley that, had
such a criminal stigma ever stained the character of Swift, some
allusions to it must have been found amid the profusion of
personal slander with which at one time he was assailed both
in Britain and Ireland. It was further remarked that, had
Swift been conscious of meriting such an imputation, his satire
upon dean Sawbridge for a similar crime argued little less than
insanity in the author. To which it might have been added that
| had not Mr. Malone and other friends of the calum-
niated dean's memory stood forward in the hand-
some manner they did, sifted the matter to its vilest
dregs, challenged and compelled the utterers to con-
fess its falsehood and to retract it, the statement
would have remained, and the presumed record been
referred to with the same unfounded confidence as
other weak and ridiculous charges, upon the pre-
sumed evidence of copies of transcripts from original
letters which no one has seen, but most probably
original forgeries like the statements of lord Wharton
and his creatures.
During Swift's final residence with sir W. Temple,
in addition to performing the last offices of humanity
with the generosity and assiduity of a friend who
felt himself upon a perfect equality, or rather as the
party conferring an obligation-for, as he himself ex-
presses it after a lapse of seven years, "he found
himself as much to seek as ever," and had to carve
out his own course in the world-he was not only
silently preparing the edition of that able statesmani
and amiable man's writings for the world, but de-
fending his literary reputation and character, with
the irresistible weapons of his wit and genius, from
the bitter invectives of those scholastic blockheads
who arrogated to themselves superior merit from
appearing in the borrowed plumes-the mere husks
and verbiage-of the ancients they affected so much
to honour. The most disinterested kindness and the
greatest service he could at that time confer upon a
man whose reputation at this day belongs more to
his literary tastes than to his political ascendancy-
for, unlike Swift, he had the credit without afford-
ing the proofs of strong political wisdom,-was to
support by his voluntary act the favourite theory to
which the feelings, the refined taste, and the clas-
sic education of Temple had so much wedded him
and like some young heroic chief to defend the form
the same reproach is thrown by Swift on sir John Browne, in one
of the "Drapiers." Above all, the proofs of this strange allega-
tion were loudly demanded at the hands of those who had made
a public calumny unknown to the eagle-eyed slander of the age
in which Swift lived. To these defiances no formal answer
was returned, but the story was suffered to remain upon record.
That this atrocious story may no longer continue without an
explicit contradiction, I here insert the origin of the calumny
upon the authority of the rev. Dr. Hutchison of Donaghadee.
"The rev. Mr. P―r, a successor of dean Swift in the pre-
bend of Kilroot, was the first circulator of this extraordinary
story. He told the tale, among other public occasions, at the
late excellent bishop of Dromore's, who committed it to writing.
His authority he alleged to be a dean Dobbs, who he stated had
informed him that informations were actually lodged before
magistrates in the diocese of Down and Connor for the alleged
attempt. But when the late ingenious Mr. Malone and many
other literary gentlemen began to press a closer examination
of the alleged fact, the unfortunate narrator denied obstinately
his ever having promulgated such a charge. And whether the
whole story was the creation of incipient insanity, or whether
he had felt the discredit attached to his tergiversation so acutely
as to derange his understanding, it is certain the unfortunate
Mr. Pr died raving mad, a patient in that very hospital for
lunatics established by Swift, against whom he had propagated
this cruel calumny. Yet, although P-r thus fell a victim
to his own rash assertions or credulity, it has been supposed
that this inexplicable figment did really originate with deau
Dobbs, and that he had been led into a mistake by the initial
letters J. S. upon the alleged papers, which might apply to
Jonathan Smedley (to whom indeed the tale has been supposed
properly to belong) or to John Smith as well as to Jonathan
Swift. It is sufficient for Swift's vindication to observe that he
returned to Kilroot after his resignation, and inducted his suc-
cessor in face of the church and of the public; that he returned
to sir William Temple with as fair a character as when he had
left him; that during all his public life in England and Ireland,
where he was the butt of a whole faction, this charge was never
heard of; that when adduced so many years after his death it
general averment; and that the chief propagaior of the calumny
was unsupported, like too many others, by aught but sturdy and
first retracted his assertions, and finally died insane." This is
conclusive; and had Mr. Malone's and his friends' example of
open challenge and investigation becn followed, fewer other ab-
surd charges would be allowed to remain upon record.-(Scott's
Life of Swift," pp. 40-42."
པ་
スス
​LIFE AND WORKS OF
two works: all the exquisite episodes and rich illus-
trations are Swift's own, and far beyond the merit
and beauty of the alleged model; and it has been
shown by Mr. Mason that he actually took not a
single idea from it. The subsequent success of the
"Battle of the Books"a (though in MS.), with the
curiosity and admiration it excited, probably en-
complete his "Tale of a Tub"-an astonishing
production, of which the fervid vehement style,
sparkling wit, and vivacity of genius, seem to dis-
tinguish it above the happiest efforts even of his own
resistless pen.
of his aged sire from the assaults of his relentless
foes. How grateful the dying statesman must have
felt, could not be more strongly shown than by leav-
ing a considerable legacy to his adopted son (hence
the virulence of Temple's unworthy nephew), and
by constituting his nephew-in-law his literary exe-
cutor, than which he could not give a more marked
evidence of his unlimited confidence in Swift's judg-couraged the author, about the same period, to
ment and integrity. Till that happier period arrived,
and he began to appreciate the great and noble qua- |
lities of Swift's mind, we trace the sufferings of a
genius conscious of its own powers, of a frank inge-
nuous nature which the slightest coldness or distance
could make unhappy for days, though moods pro-
bably arising only from increasing physical infirmities
or the strange variableness attending the departure
of the fleeting soul. In the very words of his at-
tached friend and relative, left us upon record, in all
the tenderness and purity of generous friendship, we
perceive the strong regard, amounting to veneration,
which influenced Swift's motives towards one whose
friendship and confidence he strove to possess, and,
as in most of the objects he aimed at, fully succeeded
in attaining. "Don't you remember," he says in a
letter to Stella, "how I used to be in pain when sir
William Temple would look cold or out of humour
for three or four days, and I used to suspect a hun-
dred reasons ?"
As in all future occurrences of his life, Swift
evinced in the controversy on ancient and modern
learning the same correct taste and sound judgment
which enabled him to see through the real object of
Marlborough and the Whigs in prosecuting, for selfish
aggrandisement, an endless and destructive war;
that is, he saw that the aim of the moderns-of
Bentley, Wotton, and the smaller fry, borrowed from
the French controversy of Perrault and Fontenelle-
had its source only in individual and national vanity,
and deserved no mercy. There can be no doubt in
any unbiassed and enlightened mind, in that of the
true scholar and critic, on which side the balance
was likely to incline; but Swift's was not a genius
to rest content, in literary controversy, with a drawn
battle. That which rendered the learned chivalry of
Swift more valued on this occasion was that Temple
had committed an error, which compromised his
classical tact and reputation, by resting his authority
on the Epistles of Phalaris, which he looked upon
not only as genuine, but as exhibiting the antique
spirit, grandeur of thought, and contempt of death,
peculiar to the ancient tyrants and commanders. He
had thus placed himself upon the horns of a dilemma,
of which Wotton, followed by the doughty Bentley,
did not fail to take advantage; and the circumstance
of the hon. Mr. Boyle having undertaken a new
edition of the Epistles gave rise to the two treatises,
which so much amused the learned world, of Boyle ver-
sus Bentley, and consequently, of Bentley versus Boyle.
Swift now threw his broad shield over his devoted
friend; and the "Battle of the Books" infused a hu-
morous spirit of happy wit and invention into the
subject which it did not before possess. The design
was erroneously said to have been borrowed from
Coutrage's "Political History of the newly declared
War between the Ancients and Moderns;" but, in fact,
there is not the remotest resemblance between the
There is a singular parallel case in the present day, to which
it gives the writer unfeigned pleasure to allude; the literary
executorship of a man on an eminence very far superior to that
of sir W. Temple; and a far greater master in his grand aud
peculiar sphere. We mean sir Walter Scott; to whose fascinating
society the writer was no stranger. Could Mr. Lockhart in-
stance, in the whole course of his editorial and literary expe-
rience, a stronger proof of unlimited confidence and friendship,
than that given by sir W. Scott, when he intrusted his literary
fame to his guardianship?
It would seem, from a letter of At-
terbury (29th June, 1704), that when this inimitable
production first appeared it was given to one Edward
Smith (Rag Smith) and John Philips; but by Con-
greve and the few wits then acquainted with the
author's manner, it could not for a moment have been
mistaken.
How eagerly the author had devoted himself to
the study of poetry and history is evident from a list
given by Sheridan; and he himself states that he
had written and burned and written again upon
all manner of subjects, more than perhaps any man
in England. Among other poetical pieces full of
keen satire, but rough and inelegant as regards
the versification, are some lines written in 1697,
"Upon the Burning of Whitehall," remarkable for
strong thought and vigour of expression, and a copy
of verses written in "a lady's ivory table-book,"
which afford perhaps the first specimen of that happy
vein of rallying foibles and peculiarities in which he
afterwards became so expert a master.
It was at Moor-park, moreover, that Swift be-
came acquainted with Miss Esther Johnson, after-
wards known as the amiable and accomplished
Stella. She was the daughter of a gentleman of
family in Nottingham, engaged as a merchant in
London, only in her fifteenth
London, only in her fifteenth year, and possessed of
beauty, elegance, and talents. She resided with
another young lady, a niece of sir William's, in the
same establishment, and the friend and companion
of the statesman voluntarily took upon himself the
tuition of his fair guests. As we are here about to
enter upon the incipient cause of that which after.
wards embittered Swift's existence, it will be proper
in every point of view to give the opinions of one in
whose high and liberal mind, and in whose admirable
judgment, as well as accuracy of research, there is
every reason to place confidence. Mr. Mason justly
makes the same distinction which Swift himself did
as regards the relative position of the parties, ob-
serving that she was a lady for whom he felt all that
warmth of animated friendship of which his future
life gives so many examples; but it appears never
to have kindled into love. To that passion, during
his whole life, Swift was remarkably insensible. Sir
W. Scott likewise-alluding to a letter written to the
Rev. John Kendall (11th February, 1691-2), in
which Swift speaks of his cold temper and uncon-
fined humour "as sufficient hindrances to any im-
prudent attachment; that he was resolved not to
think of marriage till his fortune was settled in the
world, and that even then he might be so hard to
please he might probably put it off till doomsday”—
also relates an anecdote (as amusing, perhaps, as
apocryphal) which shows how strong was the re-
straint of prudential considerations in Swift's well-
regulated mind. "A young clergyman, the son of a
bishop in Ireland, having married without the per-
mission of his friends, it gave umbrage to his family,
a "Johnson's veracity in stating that Swift borrowed his ideas
from a work entitled, Le Combat des Livres' is not to be
relied upon; it is pretty certain that no such work exists.'´—
MASON.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xxi
and his father refused to see him. The dean, being
in company with him some time after, said he would
tell him a story. When I was a schoolboy at Kil-
kenny, and in the lower form, I longed very much
to have a horse of my own to ride on. One day I
saw a poor man leading a very mangy lean horse out
of the town to kill him for the skin. I asked the
man if he would sell him, which he readily con-
sented to upon my offering him somewhat more than
the price of the hide, which was all the money I had
in the world. I immediately got on him, to the
great envy of some of my schoolfellows and to the
ridicule of others, and rode him about the town.
The horse soon tired, and lay down. As I had no
stable to put him into, nor any money to pay for his
sustenance, I began to find out what a foolish bar-
gain I had made, and cried heartily for the loss of
my cash; but the horse dying soon after on the spot
gave me some relief.' To this the young clergyman
answered, 'Sir, your story is very good, and appli-
cable to my case-I
I own I deserve such a rebuke ;'
and then burst into a flood of tears. The dean
made no reply, but went the next day to the lord-
lieutenant, and prevailed on him to give the young
gentleman a small living, then vacant, for his imme-
diate support; and not long after brought about a
reconciliation between his father and him." This is
an admirable illustration, and must doubtless have
had its weight in terminating a juvenile attachment
between Swift and a Miss Jane Waryng, the sister
of his college companion, after it had subsisted for a
period of four years-a period" in which much,"
says sir W. Scott, "may have happened to abate the
original warmth of Swift's passion; nor is it per-
haps very fair, ignorant as we are of what had oc-
curred in the interim, to pass a severe sentence on
his conduct, when, after being mortified by Varina'sa
cruelty during so long a period, he seems to have
been a little startled by her sudden offer of capitu-
lation. It is, however, certain that just when the
lover, worn out by neglect or disgusted by uncer-
tainty, began to grow cool in his suit, the lady (a
case not altogether without example) became press-
ing and categorical in her inquiries as to what had
altered the style of her admirer's letters." To this it
appears that Swift's reply was even more particular
and more tediously categorical, in addition to the
cold and insulting tone in which it is written, as
little creditable to the writer's good feelings as to his
gallantry, and which must have been intended to
produce the effect of terminating the affair, as no
lady of sense or delicacy could have subscribed to
such harsh and unreasonable terms.
It is only just, however, to Swift to give Mr. M.
Mason's clear-sighted view and evidence as to this
affair:-"There is enough to satisfy us that the lady's
coolness was at least equal to that of her quondam
lover. Swift writes, "I have observed in abundance
of your letters such marks of a severe indifference,
that I began to think it was hardly possible for one
of my few good qualities to please you.' And after-
wards he says, there was no other way of account-
ing for her behaviour but by imputing it to a want
of common esteem and friendship for him. Some
hints also at other causes of displeasure appear from
Swift's words: If you like such company and con-
duct, much good may you do with them; my educa-
tion has been otherwise.' I apprehend the follow-
ing words of a letter, the original of which is in my
possession, allude to the same business; it is ad-
dressed to the Rev. Mr. Winder, and is dated from
Moor-park, in 1698: 'I remember those letters to
a Miss Jane Waryng, "whom, by a cold poetical conceit,"
adds sir W. Scott, "he has termed Varina.'
""
|
Eliza; they were written in my youth; pray burn
them. You mention a dangerous rival for an absent
lover; but I must take my fortune.
If the report
proceeds, pray inform me.' The residence of Mr.
Winder being in that neighbourhood renders it pro-
bable that the female alluded to is Miss Waryng;
if so, their affections had terminated long before the
letter alluded to was written.”—(“ Historical An-
nals," &c.)
In December, 1699, Swift suffered another severe
mortification by the hasty and imprudent marriage
of his sister with an obscure tradesman, a currier-
old enough to be her father-who soon broke, and,
as her brother had foreseen, treated her with neglect;
and finally left her unprovided for with a family.
We must not forget to add that it became Swift's
first object to provide for her, and that he settled
upon her family an annual stipend for the remainder
of her life.
At
Swift's first occupation upon his removal to Lon-
don was to publish a full and correct edition of the
works intrusted to his care by sir William Temple.a
They were dedicated to the king, from whom it is
supposed the editor had already received a promise
through Temple of the first vacant prebend in Can-
terbury or Westminster.
terbury or Westminster. If so, that promise, like
most court promises, was made to be broken; and
Swift, during his occasional attendance on ministers,
received no satisfaction whatever.
His patience
becoming exhausted, he sent a memorial to the king
himself; and informs us that "the earl of Romney,
who professed much friendship, promised to second
his petition; but as he was an old, vicious, illiterate
rake, without any sense of truth or honour, he said
not a word of it to the king." (MS. by Swift.
length, wearied and disgusted, he was induced to
accept an invitation from the earl of Berkeley, ap-
pointed one of the lords-justices, to attend him as
chaplain and private secretary to Ireland.
officiated in his new capacity till their arrival in
Dublin, when a busy intriguing fellow named Bushe,
having insinuated to his lordship that the post of
secretary was not fit for a clergyman, obtained it for
himself. Swift's indignation at this usage was frankly
and boldly expressed; and he wrote a bitter and
humorous lampoon, which obtained a wide circula-
tion, at his lordship's and the new secretary's ex-
pense. This disappointment was followed by ano-
ther. The deanery of Derry having become vacant,
Swift applied for it, the earl having promised him
the first benefice which should fall in. Again the
secretary found means to set Swift aside, upon pre-
Swift
a During Swift's residence in England he never failed to
visit his mother once a year at Leicester. His mode of travel-
ling was suited to his finances; being always on foot, except
when the weather was very bad, when he would sometimes
take shelter in a waggon. With the help of a strong constitu
tion and active limbs he traversed hills and dales, valuing
gates and stiles not a straw, and dining at obscure alehouses
with pedlars and carriers. The language and manners of those
people indulged his comic humour, and supplied him with
the means of studying human nature; but although he dis-
guised himself to the utmost of his skill, yet he was once dis-
covered by his fellow-travellers to be a spy on their manners,
and obliged afterwards to travel in better company. To this
passion he never sacrificed his habitual love of cleanliness:
although be usually took up his lodging where he saw written
over the door "lodgings for a penny," yet he used to bribe
the maid with sixpence to give him a separate bed and clean
sheets. Perhaps we are indebted," adds Mr. Mason, "to
the state of Swift's finances for the entertainment and instruc-
tion we receive from his admirable works; nay, we have his
own words for it: in a letter to his friend Pope he says, 'I
will tell you that all my endeavours from a boy to distinguish
myself were only for want of a great title and fortune, that I
might be used like a lord by those who have an opinion of
my parts; whether right or wrong, it is no great matter; and
so the reputation of great learning does the work of a blue
ribbon or of a coach and six horses.'
xxii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
tence that he was too young (he had, in fact, re-
ceived a bribe of 10007.)-an objection erroneously
stated by lord Orrery to have originated with Dr.
Wm. King, who entreated that the deanery might
be given to some elderly divine. "I have no objec-
tion," said the learned prelate, "to Mr. Swift; I
know him to be a sprightly ingenious young man;
but instead of residing, I dare say he will be eter-
nally flying backwards and forwards to London, and
therefore I entreat he may be provided for in some
other place." Swift, aware that the matter must
have been done with the earl's participation, insisted
upon an interview with the secretary; and on being
told the real state of the case, that it could not be
had without 10007., indignantly replied, "then God
confound you both for a couple of rascals!" and
hastily left the castle. But his lordship, already
smarting under the injured chaplain's satiric lash,
lost no time in making due apology and offering
terms of conciliation; and on the 22nd March,
1699, Swift was inducted to the rectory of Agher
and vicarages of Laracor and Rathbeggan, in the
diocese of Meath. They were, however, not worth
one third of the deanery; but on the 28th of
September, 1700, he received a further recom-
pense by being collated to the prebend of Dunlaven
in St. Patrick's cathedral, and installed on the 22nd
of the following month. In his poem of the "Dis-
covery," as well as in other effusions, Swift holds
both his lordship and his secretary up to the ridicule
of the reader; but he was subsequently induced
to preserve friendly terms with the earl-influenced,
it is said, by his high respect for the countess-a lady
of exemplary virtue and piety, whom he has extolled
in his introduction to the "Project for the Advance-
ment of Religion." Of these his united livings
Swift, in his account-book for the year 1700, set
down the annual value at 2301.; and it appears that
he paid between March, 1699, and November, 1700,
as much as 1177. for title, crown-rent, curate, &c.
Indeed, it would appear from an account-book for
1703, kept by Swift, who was always extremely ex-
act and punctual in his entries, that after these and
other deductions the means left at his command
were very slender, insomuch that Mr. Mason, who
himself inspected the accounts, observes that it
argued no very blamable ambition that he should
wish to be somewhat richer, particularly as we learn
from his "Journal to Stella" that his livings had in
1712 decreased, and the expense of living in Ireland
was greater than before.
Upon the earl of Berkeley's retiring from the go-
vernment, Swift, who had continued to exercise his
duties as chaplain to the year 1700, withdrew to his
vicarage of Laracor, where his conduct as a clergy-
man, his uniform piety, and respect for religious ob-
servances, gained him the esteem of different classes,
as well as of his parishioners. An absurd and farcical
description, copied by some of his biographers, has
been given of his journey, almost wholly destitute
of truth, and of his abrupt and unfeeling manner of
taking possession of his new livings. The amusing
inventor (for Swift can boast fabulists without end,
before and after lord Orrery) sets out very vera-
ciously by assuring us he performed his journey on
foot; that he wore decent black clothes, with strong
worsted stockings, of which he carried a second pair
and a shirt in his pocket; a large grey surtout, a
large slouched hat, with a pole considerably longer
than himself, which he had probably procured from
some country hay-maker. It is impossible to re-
cognise in this burlesque description "any resem-
blance," says Mr. Mason, "to what we are told
a From the "Swiftiana."
|
were Swift's habits of life, of whom it is said he was
so attentive to exterior appearances that he never
went abroad without his gown. We should remem-
ber too that he was at this time chaplain to the
chicf governor of Ireland-a strange season for him
to fix on to depart from his usual practice. But this
writer does not proceed many pages before he finds
a parish clerk to act as clown to the mountebank
character into which he has done us the honour to
transform the great genius and chief patriot of Ire-
land; this is Roger Cox, of whose costume we have
the following description (p. 6):-'Roger's dress was
not the least extraordinary feature of his appearance.
He constantly wore a full-trimmed scarlet waistcoat
of most uncommon dimensions, a light-grey coat,
which altogether gave him an air of singularity and
whim as remarkable as his character.' The writer,
having equipped his heroes, proceeds next to relate
their exploits, witty and humorous, which are
about as truc as the description of the characters
themselves, and equally judicious and appropriate.
A jest-book may be amusing, but a medley of jests
ought not to be attributed to any real character; it
would be more prudent for the compiler of such to
fix upon a fictitious one, who may be each and
everything he pleases; witty sayings attributed to a
real person should be appropriate.
Indeed, in
the case of Swift, such publications are peculiarly
objectionable; he was of a cast of character the ex-
act value and true nature of which it is an object of
high interest duly to appreciate. The peculiarity of
his humour has not been thoroughly comprehended,
even by some writers who think they have inter-
preted it rightly; to falsify it in the way the author
of 'Swiftiana' has done, by attributing to him acts
that he never did and sayings that he never uttered,
is to do an injury for which his foolish jests can
furnish no sufficient recompensc."-(" Historical
Annals.")
•
•
This high testimony upon the best and most
genuine evidence, from a writer intimately convers-
ant with the most trivial as well as the most import-
ant passages in the dean's history, does equal credit
to his heart and to his judgment; nor does he less
ably refute the other stories appertaining to the want
of dignity, and even levity, with which Swift was ac-
cused, while residing at these livings, of performing
the offices of religion. The practice of having
divine service on week-days being very unusual, it
was at first very ill attended. It has been related of
Swift, that on one of those days, finding there was
no other person present but himself and the clerk,
he began by addressing him as follows: "Dearly be-
loved Roger, the scripture moveth you and me in
sundry places;" and procceded in that manner
through the service.
through the service. This story is not however
authenticated; it rests solely on the credit of lord
Orrery; neither Mr. Deane Swift nor Mrs. Whiteway
had heard it, until the earl's book made its appear-
ance; and although they allowed it was like him,
they believed it to be an invention of lord Orrery's
to discredit the dean's respect for religion.
Theophilus Swift says he read it in a jest-book,
printed between 1550 and 1560. To this the writer
of his life in the Biog. Brit. alludes in the follow-
ing words: "This instance of levity it must be
owned is sufficient to clear Dr. King, then bishop
of Derry, from any particular ill-will to him in try-
ing to prevent his promotion to that deanery."
Mr.
"I have before expressed my doubt that King
ever opposed the appointment of Swift, and have
now to observe that this instance of levity, if it ever
happened, must have occurred after that deanery bad
been disposed of, and could not therefore have had
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xxiii
any influence upon the bishop's opinion. But in
truth, Swift cannot justly be accused of levity in
those respects; his conduct, which was uniformly
pious, should rather disprove the truth of the anec-
dote, than such an anecdote, ill authenticated, cast a
blemish on his character; it would not be possible
to adduce an instance from his works where he
makes a jest of religion. There is another story,
likewise related by lord Orrery, in his 16th letter, of
his laying a wager one afternoon with Dr. Raymond,
of Trim, that he would begin prayers before him;
that both ran as fast as they could to the church, but
Raymond, who had outrun Swift, walked decently
up the aisle. Swift, however, did not slacken his
pace; he passed Raymond in the aisle, and, stepping
into the reading-desk, repeated so much of the ser-
vice as entitled him to the sum which they had
wagered. This story appears, like the others, to be a
malicious falsehood, invented for the sole purpose of
discrediting his character."-("Historical Annals.")
The whole of this statement is as true as it is ad-
mirable; and could the series of full and deeply
studied and examined notes upon Swift's life in this
distinguished writer's work appear prefixed to a
new edition of the dean's writings, there can be no
doubt they would form the most correct and com-
plete biography of him that has yet been given to
the world-presenting a mass of rich and most in-
teresting illustrations in every particular, and which,
from the minute investigation and comparison they
display, may be relied upon, in addition to the requi-
site entertainment they afford. Of the same doubt-
ful character are many of the anecdotes relating to
this comparatively obscure portion of Swift's life,
though appearing in the respectable character of a
country clergyman, and with a seriousness and
earnestness which had nothing of the frivolous and
light demeanour so freely attributed to him.
"On Sundays," says sir W. Scott, "the church at
Laracor was well attended by the neighbouring
families; and Swift, far from having reason to com-
plain of want of an audience, attained that reputa-
tion which he pronounced to be the height of his
ambition, since inquiries were frequently made of
his faithful clerk, Roger Coxe," whether the doctor
was to preach that Sunday.
"While resident at Laracor, it was Swift's prin-
cipal care to repair the dilapidations which the church
and vicarage had sustained by the carelessness or
avarice of former incumbents. He expressed the
utmost indignation at the appearance of the church,
and, during the first year of his incumbency, ex-
pended a considerable sum in putting it into repair.
The vicarage he also made comfortably tenantable,b
and proceeded to improve it according to the ideas
of beauty and taste which were at that time uni-
versally received. He formed a pleasant garden;
smoothed the banks of a rivulet into a canal, and
planted willows in regular ranks at its side. These
willows, so often celebrated in the Journal to
B
Roger was a man of humour, and merited a master like
Swift. When the Doctor remarked that he wore a scarlet
waistcoat, he defended himself as being of the church militant.
"Will you not bid for these poultry ?" said Swift to his humble
dependant at a sale of farm-stock. No, sir;" said Roger,
they're just a going to Hatch." They were in fact on the
point of being knocked down to a farmer called Hatch. This
humourist was originally a hatter, and died at the age of ninety,
at Bruky in the county of Cavan.
The house appears from its present ruins to have been a
comfortable mansion. The present bishop of Meath (whom
the editor is proud to call his friend), with classic feeling, while
pressing upon his clergy at a late visitation the duty of repairing
the glebe-houses, addressed himself particularly to the vicar of
Laracor, and recommended to him, in the necessary improve
ment of his mansion, to save as far as possible the walls of the
house which had been inhabited by his great predecessor.
Stella,' are now decayed or cut down; the garden
cannot be traced; and the canal only resembles a
ditch. Yet the parish and the rector continue to
derive some advantage from its having been once
the abode of Swift. He increased the glebe from
one acre to twenty. The tithes of Effernock, pur-
chased with his own money at a time when it did
not abound, were, by his will, settled for ever on the
incumbent of that living.
"But Laracor had yet greater charms than its
willows and canals, the facetious humours of Roger
Coxe, and the applause of the gentry of the neigh-
Swift had no sooner found his fortune
bourhood.
established in Ireland than it became his wish that
Stella should become an inhabitant of that kingdom.
This was easily arranged. She was her own mis-
tress; and the rate of interest being higher in Ireland
furnished her with a plausible excuse for taking up
her residence near the friend and instructor of her
youth. The company of Mrs. Dingley, a woman of
narrow income and limited understanding, but of
middle age and a creditable character, obviated in
a great measure the inferences which the world must
otherwise have necessarily drawn from this step.
Some whispers so singular a resolution doubtless
occasioned; but the caution of Swift, who was never
known to see Stella but in the presence of a third
party, and the constant attendance of Mrs. Dingley,
to whom, apparently, he paid equal attention, seein
to have put scandal to silence. Their residence was
varied with the same anxious regard to Stella's cha-
racter. When Swift left the parsonage at Laracor
the ladies became its tenants, and when he returned
they regularly retired to their lodgings in the town
of Trim, the capital of the diocese, or were received
by Dr. Raymond, so often mentioned in the Jour-
nal,' the hospitable vicar of that parish. Every ex-
terior circumstance which could distinguish an union
of mere friendship from one of a more tender nature
was carefully observed, and the surprise at first ex-
cited by the settlement of Mrs. Dingley and Stella
in a country to which they were strangers seems
gradually to have subsided. It is however highly
probable that between Swift and Stella there was a
tacit understanding that their union was to be com-
pleted by marriage when Swift's income, according
to the prudential scheme which he had unhappily
adopted, should be adequate to the expense of a
matrimonial establishment. And here it is impossible
to avoid remarking the vanity of that over-prudence
which labours to provide against all possible con-
tingencies. Had Swift, like any ordinary man in
his situation, been contented to share his limited
income with a deserving object of his affections, the
task of his biographers would have been short and
cheerful; and we should neither have had to record
nor to apologise for those circumstances which form
the most plausible charge against his memory."
The following remarks are peculiarly happy, evinc-
ing that sterling good sense and knowledge of life
for which Swift's great biographer was, like himself,
so conspicuous above all his contemporaries:
"In the pride of talent and of wisdom he endea-
voured to frame a new path to happiness, and the
consequences have rendered him a warning where
the various virtues with which he was endowed
ought to have made him a pattern.
"Meanwhile, the risk of ill construction being so
carefully guarded against, Stella, with her beauty
and accomplishments, was not long without an ad-
mirer. She was then about eighteen; her hair of a
raven black, her features both beautiful and expressive,
and her form of perfect symmetry, though rather in-
clined to embonpoint. To these outward graces
xxiv
LIFE AND WORKS OF
were added good sense, great docility, and uncom-
mon powers both of grave and gay conversation, and
a fortune which, though small, was independent."-
(Scott's "Memoirs of Swift," vol. i. p. 72.)
Neither were they ever known to meet but in
the presence of a third person." Sheridan says that
Swift's affection for Stella had not at this time kin-
dled into love. I think it proper to give some ex-
tracts from his memoir in his own words, because
they tend to prove that Mrs. Johnson's removal to
Ireland was not caused by any hopes or promises of
a matrimonial connexion with Swift.-' Though
Stella's beauty was at that time arrayed in all the
pride of blooming eighteen, yet it is certain that he
never dropped the least hint that might induce her
to consider him in the light of a lover. In his whole
deportment he still maintained the character of a
tutor, a governor, and a friend.' The truth,' says
Sheridan, 'is, that Swift at that time known ot what
the passion of love was. He had long entertained a
dislike to matrimony; he seems to have been under
the dominion of a still more powerful passion-that
of ambition. Urged by this reckless spirit, he every
year paid a visit to England, absenting himself for
some months from the duties of his parish and the
charming conversation of the amiable Stella.'"' Το
this statement Mr. M. very appositely replies-"It
appears therefore that
"He liked, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love.'
"If the passion of ambition was so powerful as
to overcome that of love at this early period of Swift's
life, and that he could resist the allurements of youth
and beauty at a time when they have usually the
greatest influence, it is not credible that his love
should afterwards obtain such strength as to master his
ambition-a passion which usually gains strength
with years, and in proportion as the former loses its
power; especially as the temptations which before
existed, if they had not altogether lost their force,
must have been in a great measure weakened."
("Historical Annals," p. 243.)
The preceding view is founded on close and ex-
cellent reasoning, as well as on a knowledge of
human nature, and Swift's character in particular.
It will also account for the conduct of the parties
more satisfactorily than upon any other theory; and
as a specimen of the contradictions upon this subject
we may mention that Hawksworth distinctly asserts
that Mrs. Johnson was buried in solitude, and
known only to Swift's most intimate acquaintance,
having no other female acquaintance but Mrs.
Dingley. And this passage is altered by Dr. John
Lyon, in his copy of Hawksworth's "Life of Swift,”
so as to express exactly the reverse.
A curious pas-
sage also occurs in a letter from Mr. Thomas Swift
(the parson cousin, who laid claim to a share in
"The Tale of a Tub”), in which he asks (1706) “if
Jonathan be married? or whether he has been able
to resist the charins of both those gentlewomen that
marched quite from Moor-park to Dublin (as they
would have marched to the north or anywhere else),
with full resolution to engage him."
It is not surprising that, Swift declining to avow
himself as a lover, other suitors should step forward
and become candidates for so fair a prize; for, in
addition to the graces of her person, there was some-
thing extremely fascinating in the vivacity of man-
ners and conversation of Miss Johuson. Among
"The distance which existed during their whole lives between
Swift and Stella is exemplied by the following passage of a
letter from the former to Mr. Tickell, dated 7th July, 1726.
“I wonder how you could expect to see her in a morning, which
I, hor oldest acquaintance, have not done these dozen years,
except once or twice in a journoy." (Swift's Works.)
these the reverend William Tisdall, already on a
familiar footing with the parties, became one of her
admirers, and addressed à letter to Swift, then in
London. He received a reply from the doctor (dated
20th April, 1704) in the following dubious and sin-
gular terms:-"I might with good pretence enough
talk starchly and affect ignorance of what you would
be at; but my conjecture is that you think I ob-
structed your inclinations to please my own, and
that my intentions were the same with yours; in
answer to all which I will upon my conscience and
honour tell you the naked truth. First, I think I
have said to you before, that if my fortunes and
humour served me to think of that state I should
certainly, among all persons on earth, make your
choice; because I never saw that person whose con-
versation I entirely valued but hers: this was the
utmost I ever gave way to. And, secondly, I must
assure you sincerely that this regard of mine never
once entered into my head to be an impediment to
you, but I judged it would perhaps be a clog to your
rising in the world, and I did not conceive you were
then rich enough to make yourself and her happy
and easy; but that objection is now quite removed
by what you have at present and by the assurances
of Eaton's livings. I told you, indeed, that your
authority was not sufficient to make overtures to
the mother without the daughter giving me leave
under her own or her friend's hand, which I think
was a right and prudent step. However, I told the
mother immediately, and spoke with all the advan-
tages you deserve; but the objection of your fortune
being removed, I declare I have no other; nor shall
any consideration of my own misfortunes in losing
so good a friend and companion as her prevail on
me against her interest and settlement in the world,
since it is held so necessary and convenient a thing
for ladies to marry, and that time takes off from the
lustre of virgins in all other eyes but mine. I ap-
peal to my letters to herself whether I was not your
friend in the whole concern, though the part I de-
signed to act in it was purely passive, which is the
utmost I will ever do in things of this nature, to
avoid all reproach of any ill consequences that may
ensue in the variety of worldly accidents: nay, I
went so far to her mother, herself, and I think to
you, as to think it could not be decently broken,
since I supposed the town had got it in their tongues;
and therefore I thought it could not miscarry with-
out some disadvantage to the lady's credit. I have
always described her to you in a manner different
from those who would be discouraging; and must
add that, though it has come in my way to converse
with persons of the first rank and of that sex more
than is usual to men of my level and of our function,
yet I have nowhere met with a humour, a wit, or
conversation so agreeable, a better portion of good
sense, or a truer judgment of men and things,-I
mean here in England, for as to the ladies in Ireland
I am a perfect stranger. As to her fortune, I think
you know it already; and if you resume your designs
or would have further intelligence, I shall send you
a particular account.”
The cautious and distant tone adopted by Swift is
here remarkable, and assuredly no such letter was
ever penned by a lover to his rival. The lady's own
consent had not been obtained; and if she had ever
been influenced in her decision by hopes of Swift
coming forward, a recommendation like this, and
similar letters which he declares he had addressed
to Stella, were more than enough to extinguish
them for ever. It seems astonishing that with such
evidence before her, being indisputably a woman of
sense and spirit, she did not immediately marry, or
JONATHAN SWIFT.
XXV
At
treat Swift thenceforward with perfect coolness and
indifference. At the same time the guardian and
friend ridiculed the lover, whom he declared that
he recommended, with unmerciful severity-scizing
his personal qualities and foibles to hold him up, if
possible, in a more disgusting light;" and it is pro-
bable that he was not surprised to hear that Stella
had rejected him. Whether or not he suspected the
dean, he went about, in his rage of disappointment,
venting his spleen in the most opprobrious terms,
which he persevered in doing for many years.
the same time we ought to state the case Swift
makes out for himself: "For the last fifteen years,"
he says,
"he hath been often engaged in a flirting
war of satiric burlesque verse. In these combats he
has often fallen foul on persons who never dipped a
pen either for or against him. As to me, who, I
solemnly protest, was always innocent during the
whole time his pen and tongue took this unhappy turn,
as well before as since, I could never be one month
at peace for his wit; whatever was writ to ridicule
him was laid at my door, and only by himself.”
Swift, it must be remembered, in setting out on
his literary career, made a resolution not to place
his name to his productions, and neither to avow nor
to consider himself accountable to any party for
them. His disavowal therefore, as in the case of
Butterworth, is worth nothing, and it is rather too
much to give him credit for bearing meekly the
attacks of Tisdall for fifteen years without returning
them with interest. There cannot be a doubt as to
the secret enmity and dislike manifest in Swift's letter,
and that when he wrote it he had sufficient reasons
for believing that "Black Tisdall," whose unodor-
ous breath and other bodily infirmities he comme-
morated in song, would never be the accepted lover
of the accomplished and elegant Stella :-
They say Black Tisdall's of your party,
And Tom and bold translator Carty."
Sir Walter Scott, whose correctness of observation
and whose singular power of penetrating real mo-
tives were not surpassed by any of his greatest pre-
decessors, expressly states that "Swift maintained a
long acquaintance with Tisdall without ever liking
him, and he certainly felt rivalry in the case of
Stella." In other words, he made profession of the
most perfect friendship; and the truth is, that the
vanity and the intense desire of being admired in
this extraordinary man were so great that he wished
to be esteemed and beloved by two of the loveliest
women of his times without incurring the cares and
responsibilities of married life in a station that would
have made him appear ridiculous in the eyes of his
greater clerical brethren. The entire tenor of his
life, his letters, and his character itself, with his in-
finite pride and love of dominion, support us in this
opinion, not before alluded to in the innumerable
theories advanced by different editors and biogra-
phers, though both Mr. Mitford and Mr. Mason ap-
proach very closely to this supposition. The former
observes that, "If Stella did not mistake the nature
of Swift's attachment; she did not consider the other
passions of his mind which might oppose or weaken
it: of most men she probably would have judged
rightly; but unfortunately she had to speculate on
the motives of a person eminently singular in his
temper and his thoughts, inclined to move out of
the road which leads to general happiness, and to
find one more congenial to his own disposition.".
("Life of Swift.")
"“When a Roman was dying, the next man of kin
Stood over him gaping, to take his breath in.
Wore Tisdall the same way to blow out his breath,
Such a whiff to the living wore much worse than death."
VOL. I.
|
From the first, Swift's residence in Ireland appears
to have been compulsory, and his repeated visits to
England may be enumerated as among the "white
days" of his dark and chequered life. It was the
land of his hopes, of "the milk and honey” of that
ambition of power which he so intensely coveted;
and in 1701, with a mind confident doubtless in its
own vast talents and resources, he left his lovely
friends and his new parishioners without a sigh. It
is singular to observe how difficult it is even for a
man of extraordinary powers, under an arbitrary or
a mixed form of government, to make his weight
felt. It is different in republics and in limited
monarchies, in which a powerful church and aris-
tocracy have not already fixed their roots deeply and
widely in the vitals of the state. Even though cir-
cumstances had in the main strangely seconded the
views of Swift by his alliance and connexion with
the family of Temple, by his casual insight into the
history and politics of the times, and by his early
acquaintance with the political characters of the
day, it is a curious fact that he had made strenuous
efforts to distinguish himself, as appears from his
account of having burnt so many of his MS. papers,
and having visited England so frequently without
success. Upon his arrival this time, however (1710),
he found the public mind in a state of excitement
which followed the impeachment of the carls of
Portland and Oxford, lord Somers and lord Halifax,
on account of the part they had taken in the par-
tition treaty.
It was upon this occasion that Swift
commenced that series of political tracts upon which
his fame as a great controversialist and a man of
consummate tact and talent, as well as of the most
enlightened views and principles as regards civil go-
vernment, political economy, and a true system of
finance, now so broadly rests. It was these subjects,
as they in succession occurred, which supplied him
with inexhaustible matter for his satire and wit; for
the follies and crimes of men, and the corruptions so
deeply engrafted in the systems of government, of
the church, law, physic, and science-monopolies,
bubble companies, and the base time-serving spirit so
predominant in the journals of the extreme parties
in the state-offered ample opportunities for in-
dulging his peculiar vein. The policy which Swift
appears to have had in view, and to have advocated
with unremitting ardour in his conversation, in his
letters, and in his more serious tracts, was that of a
moderator of the extreme parties in the state, and
of a high and orthodox disciplinarian in the eccle-
siastical government, which he considered an in-
tegral part of it.
It was by this peculiar distinction to which he re-
solutely adhered in all his writings that Swift in-
curred the charge of having deserted the Whig prin-
ciples, which he first advocated, it is asserted, in a
pamphlet-the only one he ever published in their
favour--to be attributed to his early connexion with
Temple, and with king William and his ministers,
who had certainly laid him under no obligation to
volunteer his wit in their support. As some corro-
boration of this supposed desertion of his principles,
it was brought against him by his political enemies
that he had enlisted himself even by name upon the
side of the then existing government, whose party
he subsequently abandoned, as plainly appeared in
the copy of verses addressed to the honourable Mrs.
Finch, afterwards his friend and correspondent, lady
Winchelsea :-
And last, my vengeance to complete,
May you descend to take renown;
Prevail'd on by the thing you hate,
A Whig, and one who wears a gown.
xxvi
LIFE AND WORKS OF
But if his accusers will only be at the pains of con-
sulting his character of a Whig in his "Arguments
against the Power of Bishops," they will perceive
the weight of the distinction we have pointed out.
It will be seen that of his true Whig principles
throughout life there cannot be the shadow of a
doubt that the inherent love of freedom, justice, and
patriotism embued all his views of civil government,
which it was the ambition of his life to reconcile to
those of a high churchman; an object which, in his
high enthusiasm for the amelioration of humanity
and for the public good, he as vainly sought to realise
as to reconcile the two rival statesmen, both of whom
were his friends. But he justly accused the Whigs
of dereliction of principle in their attempts to weaken
and subvert the church; and the extreme Tories, with
still greater justice, of aiming a death-blow at public
liberty, by endeavouring to restore the arbitrary rule
for which the first Charles lost his head, and to bring
about the ruin of the Whigs by an hypocritical attack
upon their system of corruption, war, and debt, for
which the said Tories were only ambitious of substitut-
ing the glorious reign of the pretender. It was in this
spirit of conciliation—a strange delusion to gain the
mastery of an intellect like Swift's, something like
that of his royal academy for the improvement of
the English tongue, but which at the same time
proves his humane and philanthropic disposition-
that he wrote, under cover of a masterly investigation
into the "Contests and Dissensions of Athens and
Rome," a correct and luminous review of the exist-
ing state of parties in England. It was published
without the name of the author; but upon his re-
turn to Ireland, in the warmth of conversation,
Swift seems to have been surprised into a confes-
sion, the only one upon record, that it was his pro-
duction. It was in fact ascribed to lord Somers, to
bishop Burnet, and others among the ablest Whig
writers; but the bishop was compelled, by the re-
sentment of parliament, to disown it; and Swift,
who had returned to Ireland, being taunted by the
bishop of Kilmore as a young inexperienced man
in denying Burnet to be the author, boldly de-
clared that he had written it. Upon his next visit.
to England he had no longer the same motives for
concealing the authorship, and was courted by all
the great Whig leaders, who, so far from considering
that they had secured so powerful an ally, were
startled by the singular freedom and resolution with
which he reiterated the profession of his principles
in church and state; a declaration which they failed
to take advantage of, and recalled to mind too late,
upon the dismissal of the Godolphin ministry from
office.
The following passages from this able production,
not unworthy the classical historians he had so long
studied, will confirm the opinions we have given
and sufficiently refute the charge of a dereliction of
principle which not even the Whig leaders and their
partisans ventured to bring against him in the face
of so frank, manly, and clear-sighted a declaration.
"It was then I began to trouble myself with the
differences between the principles of Whig and Tory,
having formerly employed myself in other, and I
think much better, speculations. I talked often upon
this subject with lord Somers; I told him that, having
been long conversant with the Greek and Latin au-
thors, and therefore a lover of liberty, I found myself
much inclined to be what they call a Whig in politics,
and that besides I thought it impossible upon any
other principles to defend or submit to the revolu-
tion; but as to religion, I confessed myself to be a
high churchman, and that I could not conceive how
any one who wore the habit of a clergyman could be
otherwise that I had observed very well with what
insolence and haughtiness some lords of the high-
church party treated not only their own chaplains,
but all other clergymen whatsoever, and thought this
was sufficiently recompensed by their professions of
zeal to the church: that I had likewise observed how
the Whig lords took a direct contrary measure;
treated the persons of particular clergymen with
courtesy, but showed much contempt and ill will for
the order in general: that I knew it was necessary
for their party to make their bottom as wide as they
could, by letting all denominations of protestants to
be members of their body: that I would not enter
into the mutual reproaches made by the violent mer
on either side, but that the connivance and encou
ragement given by the Whigs to those writers of
pamphlets who reflected upon the whole body of the
clergy without any exception would unite the church
as one man to oppose them, and that I doubted his
lordship's friends would see the consequence of this.'
It will shortly be seen how pertinaciously Swift
adhered to this public avowal of his opinions and prin-
ciples of action in public life, and how prophetic-
ally he foretold the signal failure of the Whigs-
their shipwreck upon that very rock which he gene-
rously discovered to their view. He had small thanks
from the leaders or their party, who, like all disap-
pointed men, felt only resentment for the advice by
which they had neglected to profit, and stood exposed
to the just reproaches of him who had uttered it.
Early in the ensuing year king William died; and
on his next arrival in London Swift found queen
Anne upon the throne. The Whigs seemed to have
established their power upon a firm basis, but their
best friend and adviser held aloof; and it is a bold
assertion to hazard, though a true one, that no
government could be safe opposed to the principles
adopted by Swift, both in church and state, and to
the immense talents and powers of invective of one
skilled in every species of political warfare by dint
of long study and a practical knowledge of the mo-
tives and principles of human action.
The most interesting epoch of Swift's life is now
at hand; and, like the mathematician of old, he seem-
ed only to want a place for the fulcrum by which he
could move the system of his intellectual world. He
felt sensible of his rising importance, and with the
certainty of waking fame he possessed hope and con-
fidence in his increasing powers, and doubtless this
was the very happiest period of his existence. His
time was passed in a pleasant interchange of the
calm and soul-cheering duties of religion, in a most
liberal yet discriminating dispensing of charity truly
astonishing if compared with his poor resources, in
the chastened society of those whom he esteemed
and loved, and in occasional excursions, and regular
visits to England, where he soon shone distinguished
above all by his vast talents and varied acquirements;
awing the most abandoned political journals and
fiercest critics by the just dread of his lash and the
terror of his satiric fame. He had no fiery ordeal,
as with most other authors, through which he was
doomed to pass, although in the outset he had formed
some idea of it. His fine graphic and correct pic-
ture of a young writer's progress presents a happy
illustration; it was addressed about this period to
his friend Dr. Delany :-
"As some raw youth in country bred,
To arms by thirst of honour led,
When at a skirmish first he hears
The bullets whizzing round his ears,
Will duck his head, aside will start,
And feel a trembling at his heart,
Till 'scaping oft without a wound
Lessons the terror of the sound;
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xxvii
Fly bullets now as thick as hops,
He runs into a cannon's chaps;
An author thus who pants for fame,
Begins the world with fear and shame;
When first in print, you see him dread
Each popgun levell'd at his head;
The lead yon critic's quill contains
Is destin'd to beat out his brains;
As if he heard loud thunders roll,
<
Cries Lord have mercy on his soul l'
Concluding that another shot
Would strike him dead upon the spot :
But when with squibbing, slashing, popping,
He cannot see one creature dropping ;
That missing fire, or missing aim,
His life is safe,-I mean his fame ;-
The danger past, takes heart of grace,
And looks a critic in the face."
It was about the same period that Swift com-
menced his acquaintance with Addison and other
great writers of the day, in whose society he spent
some of his brightest hours, unalloyed for a season
with the coldness or the secret ill-will and enmity of
political feeling, which Swift, the generous friend
and benefactor of both parties, was anxious to avert.
Steele, Arbuthnot, and the other wits, sometimes
including Pope, were accustomed to assemble at
Button's, and Sheridan has left us a humorous ac-
count of the doctor's first introduction to men whose
names are now almost inseparably connected with
his own. Though the greatness of Swift's talents
was known to many in private life, and his company
and conversation much sought after and admired,
yet his name was little noised in the republic of
letters. The only pieces which he had yet published
were "The Battle of the Books" and "The Contests
and Dissensions in Athens and Rome."
Nor was
he personally known, excepting to Mr. Congreve
and one or two more with whom he had contracted
an intimacy at sir William Temple's. It was related
by Ambrose Philips that they had for several days
observed a strange clergyman come into the coffee-
house who seemed utterly unacquainted with any of
those who frequented it, and whose custom it was to
lay his hat down on a table, and walk backward and
forward at a good pace for half an hour without
speaking to any mortal or seeming in the least to
attend to anything that was going forward there.
He then used to take up his hat, pay his money at
the bar, and walk away without opening his lips.
They at last concluded him to be out of his senses,
and the name that he went by among them was that
of the mad parson.
This made them more than
usually attentive to his motions; and one evening, as
Mr. Addison and the rest were observing him, they
saw him cast his eyes several times upon a gentle-
man in boots who seemed to be just come out of
the country, and at last advance towards him as
intending to address him. They were all eager to
hear what this dumb parson had to say, and imme-
diately quitted their seats to get near him. Swift
went up to the country gentleman, and in a very
abrupt manner, without any previous salute, asked
him, "Pray, sir, do you know any good weather in
the world?" After staring a little at the singularity
of Swift's manner and the oddity of the question,
the gentleman answered, "Yes, sir, I thank God, I
remember a great deal of good weather in my time."
"That is more," said Swift, "than I can say; I never
remember any weather that was not too hot or too
cold, too wet or too dry; but, however God Almighty
contrives it, at the end of the year 'tis all very well."a
-("Sheridan's Life.")
a Another anecdote, attributed to the same parties at the
same place, is as follows:-Swift was seated by the fire; there
was sand on the floor of the coffeehouse; and Arbuthnot, with
a design to play upon this original figure, offered him a letter
which he had been just addressing, saying at the same time,
There are numerous other anecdotes-and per-
haps more veracious-found scattered among the
correspondence and other works of Swift, of which
the practical jest he played off upon lady Berkeley
offers a fair specimen. Being wearied with the mo-
notonous task of reading Boyle's "Meditations" to
her ladyship, he hit off an admirable imitation, en-
titled "Meditations upon a Broomstick," which her
ladyship listened to with the utmost gravity, as a
beautiful composition of the pious and learned au-
thor.
In 1704 appeared the celebrated "Tale of a Tub,"
which, though shown in manuscript at sir W. Tem-
ple's, and to a few of the author's friends, and kept
by him during eight years, was now published with-
out a name. The club at Button's it is said were
everywhere pointed out as the writer of this unri-
not a little astonished to find the eccentric parson
valled performance. It became the general topic of
the day, and excited public attention in an uncom-
mon degree. The noted Sacheverell, meeting Smal-
ridge, flattered him by affecting to believe him the
author, when the latter it is recorded replied in an
indignant tone,-" Sir, not all that you and I have
in the world should hire me to write The Tale of a
Tub.' "a
In fact there is little doubt that it made
him numerous enemies in high quarters, not except-
proved a bar to his advancement in addition to his
ing queen Anne and her court; and it probably
satiric effusions upon the favourites of the queen.
conceal himself, because of the profane strokes in
"The author has reason," observed Atterbury, "to
that piece, which would do his reputation and inte-
rest in the world more harm than his wit can do
him good." Though written to promote the interests
of the high-church party, it was considered by super-
ficial readers as profane; some even of the Tories
were displeased at the freedom of the satire: both
King and Wotton published answers to it, and upon
the continent it was very unfairly construed by Vol-
taire and his followers into a covert design to advance
the cause of scepticism and infidelity. Men of judg-
ment, taste, and literary discrimination, however,
did full justice to the motives by which the great
satirist was actuated; and the most able and esti-
mable belonging to all parties were soon added to
the list of his friends and admirers; while the great
leaders, whether Whigs or Tories, struck with the
splendid and powerful display of talent, the bold
correct allegory, the vivacity of the wit, and the
tionally eager to secure so resistless a champion for
rapid vehement vigour of the style, became propor-
their respective ranks. Swift might have made his
own terms; but, adhering resolutely to the distinction
he had made with regard to his principles of action,
he was for some time afraid of joining the Tories,
from the extreme violence of a section-the leaders of
the October Club,-or to coalesce with the Whigs, on
account of their desire to render the church com-
pletely subordinate and instrumental to objects of
heads of both parties, and in particular Addison and
state. Many of Swift's intimate friends, including the
Steele, being perfectly aware of the peculiar views en-
tertained by him, never dreamed of charging him
with inconsistency in refusing his support to the ex-
"There! sand that." "I have got no sand," answered Swift,
"but I can help you to a little gravel." This he said so sig-
nificantly that Arbuthnot hastily snatched back his letter to
save it from the fate of the capital of Lilliput. Their ac-
quaintance had not then however ripened into intimacy.-
(Scott's "Life of Swift," p. 83.)
" During the latter years of his life, it is said that Mrs.
Whiteway observed the dean looking over this singular pro-
duction, when, all at once closing the hook, "Good God!" he
exclaimed "what a genius I had when I wrote that !" He also
considered it the cause of his favour with lord Oxford's ministry.
c 2
xxviii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
tremes of either party, and in finally making his
selection to join the ministry which acted most in
unison with his views of the church. His friend
Addison, who had recently published his Travels, at
this period (1704-5) sent him a copy of them with
expressive marks of his highest esteem and regard.ª
Among other distinguished men with whom Swift
was already intimate, not merely upon political
grounds, except so far as he was invariably the
strenuous advocate of Ireland,-were lords Somers,
Halifax, and Pembroke; and to his other literary
connexions he shortly added the acquaintance of
Prior, Parnell, Garth, Philips, and more especially
Pope and Gay, to both of whom he became warınly
attached.
Whigs, and other causes were not wanting to aggra-
vate the soreness felt upon both sides. The influ-
ence of Harley was beginning to be felt, and the
Whig leaders taking the alarm, and finding their
efforts to attach Swift to their cause in vain, wisely
resolved to send him out of the way. With the va-
cillation of a sinking party they successively designed
for him the post of secretary to the embassy at
Vienna, and afterwards the bishopric of Virginia,
with supreme authority over the clergy of the pro-
vince-both offers which in the outset of his carcer
Swift might have listened to; but court influence and
the Wharton faction in the ministry prevailed, leav-
ing Swift fired with resentment and cagerly watch-
ing his opportunity to inflict a signal revenge. As
he emphatically expresses it in his Journal, he had
more mischief in his heart," and he was bent upon
giving it to the scoundrel Whigs all round;" the
recollection of Somers' coldness, Halifax's treachery,
Berkeley's corrupt and base violation of his pro-
After the appearance of "The Tale of a Tub," up
to the year 1708, Swift-though actively engaged in
the composition of several works, forming part of
that series of political allegories which requires the
excrcise of the highest genius, to be brought out at
the precise period to attain some definite object-mises, with Wharton's unprincipled conduct and
remained a close but calm observer, and published
few pieces of any interest. He had prepared a
masterly reply to the deistical opinions of Tindal,
but seems to have been deterred from its completion
by more important engagements. It aims some
powerful blows however at "the infidels and latitu-
dinarians," and covertly also at the Whigs, of whose
policy in regard to the church he was an uncompro-
mising enemy. He struck hard at the alliance be-
tween low-church doctrines, dissent, and infidelity,
which he considered to form part of the character of
the reigning Whigs. He wished to inscribe upon
his political banner the principles of high-church
independence combined with civil liberty, as both
forming an integral part of the British constitution,
but neither to be maintained by subserviency to the
other. To allay the extreme violence of parties, to
prove his own consistent views, and to show how
far it was impossible for him to unite with the
Whigs, he wrote his "Sentiments of a Church of
England Man;" a production which caused the first
estrangement between him and the heads of the
party then in power. He found that no efforts to
reconcile high-church principles with Whig politics
were likely to be attended with success;
compelled to make his choice between two evils;
and, consulting the dignity and character of his
order, he considered that in joining the existing op-
position he chose the least. He boldly declares the
motives by which he was actuated-his veneration.
for the church of England, and its government by
convocation upon independent interests; while at
the same time he as strenuously advocates the prin-
ciples of the revolution.b "In order," he concludes,
"to preserve the constitution entire in church and
state, whoever has a true value for both would be
sure to avoid the extremes of Whig for the sake of
the former, and the extremes of Tory on account of
the latter."
he was
Opinions like these, even more strongly than the
author's "Letter on the Sacramental Test," tended
farther to widen the breach between him and the
a In a blank leaf at the commencement of the book Addison
wrote-
'To Dr. Jonathan Swift,
The most agreeable companion,
The truest friend,
And the greatest genius of his age,
This book is presented by his
Most humble servant,
THE AUTHOR.”
"I amuse myself sometimes with writing verses to Mrs.
Finch, and sometimes with projects for the uniting of parties,
which I perfect overnight and burn in the morning."-(Letter
to col. Hunter, Jan. 12th, 1708-9.)
abandoned character, having raised a storm of indig-
nation in his breast which only their utter disgrace
and humiliation could appease. The spirit of his
political animosity indeed may be said to have per-
vaded all his writings from this period; while, to
give them at once a keener edge and to secure for
them a wider and more extensive range of influence,
if possible to the perpetual exposure and ignominy
of his enemies, he couched them in a succession of
exquisitely wrought allegories, commenced with his
"Tale of a Tub," and brought to still higher per-
fection in his "Gulliver's Travels," that wonder-
ful illusion of intellectual painting, and his crown-
ing triumph of the imaginative faculty. Where
there exists power, the will to avenge is seldom
wanting; "Vengeance is mine" is ever the motto
of sovereignty in the natural as in the intellectual
and moral world; and we are to remember that
Swift's incentives to fiery action were newly im-
pelled by the studied neglect and indignities cast by
the Whigs upon that reformed church of which he was
a member, by their corrupt and lavish expenditure,
their interested and nefarious prosecution of an in-
terminable war, and its consequent progeny
of taxes,
famine, and national debt. These combined causes
of offence in Swift's estimation, whether well or ill
founded, offered powerful instruments by which to
work the utter downfall of a tottering ministry; and
he availed himself of them with unscrupulous eager-
ness; inflicting successive blows, till with his merci-
less tomahawk he bore away with the merriment of
the Indian warrior the scalps of the discomfited
Whigs, not excepting the hero of Blenheim, who in
vain expressed his anxious desire to soften the re-
sentment of Dr. Swift.
In 1708 he followed up his first attack in a tract
entitled "An Argument against Abolishing Chris-
tianity," admitted on all hands to be an exquisite
specimen of successful irony. He found time also
for a humorous exposure of one of the prevailing
superstitions of the day, in his "Predictions for the
Year 1708," under the name of Isaac Bickerstaff, in
a The earl of Wharton evinced an extreme desire to remove
the sacramental test; another offence in the eyes of Swift, al-
ready in arms against him. The Whig party gave out in re-
taliation, that when Somers introduced Swift to Wharton as a
fit person to be his chaplain, the latter answered, alluding to
Swift's supposed opinions on religion, "We must not encourage
these fellows; we have not character enough ourselves;" a sar-
casm Swift did not fail to avenge. In addition to his "Short
Character," he fell upon the devoted Whig by depicting him
under the character of Verres, in one of the numbers of the
Examiner; and his "Letter to a Member of Parliament in
Ireland" has immediate reference to the subject of the abolition
of the sacramental test.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xxix
which he prognosticated the death of the great |
soothsayer Partridge himself, which was to take
place on the 29th of March about eleven at night.
The astrologer in his wrath published a serious
reply, protesting that he was not dead, and that all
were knaves who reported otherwise; but this only
brought down on him the "Vindication of Isaac,"
to the no small entertainment of the public.
The success of this exquisite burlesque is said to
have induced Steele to assume a nom de guerre of
so much popular attraction, and the papers which
Swift generously contributed gave support to the
heavy calibre of that unlucky writer's wit, who,
when left without his friend Addison and other
adventitious support, sunk to the level for which
nature had designed him. During the ensuing
year, Swift produced his "Project for the Advance-
ment of Religion," addressed to lady Berkeley; a
project of which Johnson correctly observes that it
is "formed with just purity of intention, and dis-
played with sprightliness and elegance; it can only
be objected that, like many other projects, if not
generally impracticable, it is yet evidently hopeless,
as it supposes more zeal, concord, and perseverance,
than a view of mankind gives reason for expecting."
He might have added that in this singular produc-
tion the author had likewise a political object; and
that, while endeavouring to inculcate the principles
of religion and virtue, he still aimed at pulling down
from "their bad eminence," as he conceived it, his
now sworn enemies the Whigs.a Immediately after
its publication, Swift returned to Ireland, still ac-
tively engaged in prosecuting his political warfare, to
which he doubtless attributed, with the assistance of
Harley's intrigues, the ensuing fall of the Whig
ministry under Godolphin and Somers, when the
Tories came into power. Swift, who had spent some
of his happiest hours during this visit in Addison's
society, at that time secretary to lord Wharton, was
roused by this event to fresh efforts, and a perfectly
new scene opened upon his aspiring mind.
The Irish clergy it seems had long complained of the
payment of twentieth parts and first-fruits, which had
been remitted in England, but all their efforts to obtain
the same boon had proved unavailing. As early as
1708 Swift had displayed his zeal and activity in the
Irish convocation, and he was now invited by the lord
primate of Ireland and the other bishops to negotiate
with Mr. Harley, who had so successfully exerted
his influence for the English clergy, and was already
aware of Swift's hostility to the Whigs, and the man-
ner in which he conceived he had, like himself, been
injuriously and even insultingly treated by the heads
of that powerful party. Full credentials having
been prepared, Swift once more quitted his residence
at Laracor, and arrived in London early in Septem-
In his "Journal to Stella" he observes (p. 31), "Lord
Halifax began a health to me to-day. It was the resurrection of
the Whigs, which I refused, unless he would add their reform-
ation too; and I told him he was the only Whig in England
I loved or had any good opinion of." Halifax, it is asserted,
had intimated a desire to make Swift a prebendary of West-
minster, but this the latter valued as it deserved. So great was
his dislike of Somers, that he not only called him in his Jour-
nal "a false, deceitful rascal," but represented his weaknesses
and vices, in more than one of his tracts, in the most odious
colours.
b"Swift was extremely anxious that Harley should have the
full honour of granting the request of the Irish clergy, and
was much dissatisfied with the directions he received from the
bishops to solicit from the duke of Ormond what he judged
had already been conceded by the premier."-(Scott.)
"It appears that, in addition to his inimitably humorous
attack on Partridge, a burlesque account of whose grievances
was published by Dr. Yalden, he had in Ireland employed his
leisure moments in preparing his famous "Prediction of Mer-
lin," the British wizard, giving, in a happy imitation of the style
of Lily, a commentary on some black-letter verses most ingeni-
|
ber, 1710, at a moment when party violence was at
its height. There was no longer a prospect that the
moderate measures he had so strenuously advocated
would produce the least effect, and as his political
opinions turned chiefly upon zeal for the interests of
his order, he declined all further overtures from the
Whigs; and as, according to his own maxim, no good
citizen could remain neutral in such a situation of
affairs, he chose his party, and the good fortune of
the Tories prevailed.
In that interesting narrative of events and anec-
dotes which he now commenced ("Journal to
Stella") he describes the impression produced by
his appearance on the scene of action, and the
efforts made by the Whig party to win back so
redoubtable a champion to their camp. "All the
Whigs," he says, "were ravished to see me, and
would have laid hold on me as a twig to save them
from sinking; and the great men were all making
their clumsy apologies. It is good to see what a la-
mentable confession the Whigs all make of my ill-
usage." As a further index to the motives by which
he was actuated, and which bears out the judicious
view taken of his conduct at this period by sir Walter
Scott, we quote another passage which very signifi-
cantly points to his future conduct in the fierce po-
litical struggles which ensued. "I should be terribly
vexed to see things come round again; it would
ruin the church and the clergy for ever." He had
observed also with disgust that, on the approaching
fall of the Whig administration, lord Wharton, who
in his pride of power had treated him in the most
arrogant style, suddenly changed his demeanour and
affected to caress him, with the insidious design, as
Swift suspected, of bringing him into discredit with
the church party. The Tories, on their side, were
not without alarm, and how strong were their ap-
prehensions of those early Whig opinions which he
had been known to entertain with regard to civil
policy may be inferred from the avowal of the Tory
leaders themselves (June 30, 1711), in the intimacy
of friendship which ensued, "that Swift was the
only man in England of whom they were afraid.”
He had moreover experienced a cool reception from
Godolphin, which he bitterly revenged by his cut-
ting lampoon of "Sid Hamet," which met with asto-
nishing success and was read with loud applause
at Harley's table, though not then suspected to be
Swift's. The circumstances attending the fall of
the Godolphin ministry, accelerated by the lengths
to which they carried their prosecution of Sachever-
ell, and the high Tory excitement which it produced
throughout the nation, are too generally known to
require comment, and we shall proceed with Swift's
own account of his interview with the new minister,
given in his correspondence with archbishop King:
"As soon as I received the packets from your grace
I went to wait upon Mr. Harley. I had prepared
him before by another hand, where he was very in-
timate, and got myself represented (which I might
justly do) as one extremely ill used by the last mi-
nistry, after some obligations, because I refused to go
certain lengths they would have me." He also states
more particularly in his Journal (Oct. 4, 1710),
"Mr. Harley received me with the greatest respect
and kindness imaginable, and appointed me an hour
two or three days after to open my business to him."
ously composed in enigmatical reference to the occurrences of
the time."(Scott.) Nearly at the same period he produced
his verses on "Baucis and Philemon," those on "Vanbrugh's
House at Whitehall," with some other light pieces of occasional
humour, like the controversy with Partridge, and similar levi-
ties, better known to the general reader than those able and
pow-
erful political treatises which obtained for him so high à re-
putation and such extensive influence at the time.
XXX
LIFE AND WORKS of
It would appear that the new minister's courtcous
and bland demeanour was highly pleasing to Swift's
pride, contrasted with the usage he declares he had
experienced from the Whigs: he was met upon that
footing of equality which his genius and temper ex-
acted; there were no shifts or subterfuges had re-
course to; a gentlemanly frankness was observed on
both sides; and after inquiring into the measures the
ministry meant to adopt, and finding they were
moderate with regard to politics, and zealous and
decided in favour of the high-church interests so
much in unison with his own views, he engaged to
support them with his whole heart and strength.
The object of his mission necessarily led to frequent
interviews with the first minister, and these afforded
opportunities for a mutual confidonce and respect
which terminated in the most unreserved and lasting
friendship. "I must tell you," he writes (Journal,
October 7th), "a great piece of refinement in Har-
ley. He charged me to come and see him often; I
told him I was loth to trouble him in so much busi-
ness as he had, and desired I might have leave to
come at his levee, which he immediately refused, and
said that was no place for friends!"
In a few days he states the satisfactory progress
he was making, though Harley was a man noted for
his procrastinating spirit, even in affairs that vitally
concerned the interests of his administration.
"Harley tells me (October 10th) he has shown my
memorial to the queen and seconded it very hearti-
ly; because, said he, the queen designs to signify
it to the bishops of Ireland in form, and take notice
that it was done upon a memorial from you;'
which he said he did to make it look more respectful
to me. I believe never anything was compassed so
soon; and purely done by my personal credit with
Mr. Harley, who is so excessively obliging that I
know not what to make of it, unless to show the
rascals of the other party that they used a man un-
worthily who had deserved better." And he adds
(October 14th), "I stand with the new people ten
times better than ever I did with the old, and ten
times more caressed."
Swift now clearly saw, from the extreme violence
of the opposite party, that Harley's administration
stood in need of every support to obtain a perma-
nent footing both with the queen and the nation.
To do this it was necessary to produce a marked
change in public opinion, not only to influence but
to sway the popular mind in regard to great questions
which called for the most refined policy, combined
with a degree of skill and dexterity which few con-
troversialists ever possessed. It was no less than
striking at the power and humbling the pride of the
powerful party that had ruled alike the senate and
the court, and contrived, by the illusion of military
glory and the most corrupt practices, to render war
and its public burdens almost popular, and by
means of a national debt and a factitious moneyed
interest, before unknown, to strike their fangs deep
into the vitals of the state. It was, in fact, to pro-
duce a revolution in the temper and feelings of the
nation that Swift now summoned his transcendent
powers, and they proved equal to the herculean
task he was so bold to undertake; its success fixed
the Tories firmly in their seats, which they retained
up to the close of queen Anne's reign.
"The pre-
sent ministry have a difficult task," he says (Nov.
29th, 1710), “and want me. According to the best
judgment I have, they are pursuing the true interest
of the public, and therefore I am glad to contribute
all that lies in my power."
The writers upon both sides now prepared for the
gladiatorial struggle that was to decide the fortune
of the Tories still trembling in the balance, or the
permanent humiliation of their focs. No stronger
testimony to the celebrity already obtained by Swift
can be adduced than that the best Tory leaders in
so perilous a juncture intrusted to Swift alone the
entire control and conduct of their political organ
the "Examiner," before supported by the combined
efforts of men like St. John, Atterbury, and Prior.
He hesitated not a moment, though ranged on the
other side he must have beheld with pain his friends.
Addison and Congreve, with bishop Burnet, Steele,
and Rowe. He took up the controversial flail
with the strength of a giant and the resolution of
a martyr, who risked all to insure the triumph of
the church to which he was so attached, to support
the cause he had embraced, and doubtless to wreak
his vengeance upon the men by whom he had been
neglected in their prosperous day. No wonder that
Addison prudently withdrew from the field; he
knew the colossal power of such an adversary, the
temper of his keen and trenchant blade, the resist-
less vigour with which he beat down every fence,
and the merciless speed with which he pursued and
trampled upon a routed foe. Besides, his more
gentle and placid nature shrank from such an en-
counter with one whose genius, from his own ad-
mission, is to be placed in the highest rank, whose
friendship he had cultivated, and whose respect
and esteem, spite of all party feelings, he knew
that he possessed.ª
Swift's first paper of the "Examiner" appeared in
little more than a month after his introduction to
Harley; and he continued them till the middle of
the following year, when, having attained the de-
clared objects for which he wrote, he abandoned
the undertaking as comparatively useless to his ul-
terior plans. During this period he grew into
entire confidence with the ministry, was admitted to
their privy councils held at Harley's house, and in
all the great questions of state became at once their
guide, philosopher, and friend, taking the unerring
lead, and marshalling them the way to success with
a singular foresight and sagacity bordering on
the prophetic, and with a judgment which never
failed him in the most trying crisis of events. The
popularity of his writings at the same time was pro-
ducing a gradual but decided change in public
opinion, and met with almost unprecedented suc-
cess. The observation made by the lord-keeper
Harcourt seems very applicable to his strenuous
efforts in the outset, to the effect produced by them,
and to the confidential situation in which he stood
as the adviser, no less than the Sampson-like cham-
pion, of their cause. "Dr. Swift," he observed, "is
not only our favorite, but he is our governor'”—an
observation it would be difficult to believe without
strong evidence besides that of Swift, and our know-
ledge how widely and deeply the influence of a con-
summate political genius and the mastery of lofty in-
dividual mind and nerve can extend.
Nor was
there any undue assumption in this; it was the
result of his intellectual position, and until he ob-
tained a solid footing in the ministerial confidence,
upon which he could think and act, could display
his real character and his power, we observe that
he always conducted himself with the same courtesy
and deference towards his superiors in rank as other
a Addison soon detected the new auxiliary, says Mr. Mitford,
and retired from the field; though Dr. Jolinson considers that
his papers were superior to his antagonist's.
Dr. Johnson, according to Scott, overlooked the circumstance
of Addison's previous retirement when he represented the con-
troversy as conducted between Swift and his friend. The last
Whig
"Examiner" is dated 12th October, 1719; and No. xiii. of
the "Examiner," the first written by Swift, the 2nd of Novem-
ber, an interval of three weeks.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xxxi
people; requested to be admitted at the minister's
levee from fear of annoying him in his affairs, and
called many times upon him on his first arrival without
seeing him. He had also expressed his fears to his
friend Addison, at the same time asking his advice
with regard to coming to England, and the little
prospect there appeared of his being preferred in
his profession by either party. How, therefore, he
so soon carried it with the high and the strong
hand towards the greatest personages in the state,
we are at a loss to account for, except on the sup-
position of that strong intellectual faculty which
raises its possessor to pre-eminence, subdues and
commands all feebler minds, and moulds even obsta-
cles and circumstances the most untoward to its spe-
cial purpose.
Soon we see he quarrels with the first
minister, whose notice he had before courted with
so much deference that he sent a messenger before
to bespeak his regard on the ground that he was an
ill-used man, as if he had been some poor traveller,
without protection or the power of retaliation, sud-
denly set upon by Whig highwaymen and robbers.
Harley must have smiled at this politic and modest
demeanour in a man of the doctor's character; and
the affected deference for the advice of Addison
when he had doubtless made up his own mind
equally shows the manner in which he concealed his
opinion of his own powers and the objects he had
in view. But once raised upon the shoulders of the
men in power his genius rose equal to the occasion,
beyond the expectations of those most interested in
his success, and far beyond even the dread of enemies
who fell under the lash of his withering satire. So
deeply and justly did he feel offended at the premier
sending him a bank-bill for 50%. that he refused to
take him into favour unless he made an apology
(one seldom required on that score), and as a farther
humiliation sent the prime minister of Great Britain
into the house with a message to the secretary to in-
form him that Dr. Swift could not dine with him
that day if he dined late. And in another part of
And in another part of
his Journal he warns St. John "not to appear cold to
him at any time, for he would not be treated like a
schoolboy; that he would not bear it from a crowned
head, and he thought no subject's favour worth it.”
There can be no doubt that a man who took
these freedoms must have felt his power, and how
indispensable that power was conceived to be for
maintaining in their seats those who could brook
such airs as the price of their existence as a ministry.
Nor did he only exact this marked respect for him-
self;
he set up a new standard for the conduct of the
court and aristocracy towards men of talent and merit,
as in the case of Parnell and his other friends, very
different to any observed in the days of Butler or
Dryden. He would have the ministers to consider it
their duty as well as an honour to court the society
of men of genius and worth, on higher grounds and
from nobler motives than the obsequious flatteries
and mean compliances they had been accustomed to
receive; and this example, seconded by writers of high
talent and independent feeling, like Pope and Addi-
son, first emancipated our literature from its degrad-
ing servility to rank and power, and transferred it
to the patronage of the public and the world. If he
sometimes carried this spirit to undue lengths, and
exercised the powers he had grasped with harshness,
let us remember the cold insulting receptions he first
met with from the Whigs, and the manner in which
it is equally clear the Tory ministry would also have
treated him and his friends if he had chosen to sub-
mit to their terms instead of assuming this high and
independent deportment.
"I dined to-day," he says (Nov. 11, 1710),
|
|
"by invitation, with the secretary of state, Mr. St.
John. Mr. Harley came in to us before dinner, and
made me his excuses for not dining with us, because
he was to receive people who came to propose the
The secretary
advancing of money to government.
used me with all the kindness in the world. Prior
came in after dinner, and upon an occasion the
secretary said to him, The best thing I ever read
is not yours, but Dr. Swift on Vanbrugh;' which I
do not reckon so very good neither: but Prior was
damped till I stuffed him with two or three compli-
ments. He told me among other things that Mr.
Harley complained he could keep nothing from me,
I had the way so much of getting into him." Had
this ministry stood upon a firmer basis probably they
would have shown Swift less deference and respect,
but they felt the want of both his political sagacity
and controversial talent, and doubtless humoured
him "up to the top of his bent." Harley, after the
defeat of the Whigs, had to guard against those of
his own party who were determined Jacobites or
high-flying Tories, resolved not only on victory but
revenge; and to balance the furious activity of these
factions, which at length, under St. John's guidance,
undermined his power, he kept in place a consider-
able number of the Whig party. Swift early saw
and warned him of the peril to which he was ex-
posed, not so much from this temporising policy, to
which he was favourable till the ministry gained
strength and confidence, but from the discord be-
tween the leaders to which it gave rise. This, from
the beginning he pronounced, would be the rock
upon which the ministry would split: "It stood,"
he said, "like an isthmus, between the Whigs on
one side and the violent Tories on the other. They
are able seamen, but the tempest is too great, the
ship too rotten, and the crew all against them.” It
is only surprising how, with such elements to con-
tend against, they continued, supported even by
Swift's pilot genius and judgment, to weather the
storm so long as they did; but not a day or hour
passed in which he was not attempting in some way to
steer them clear of the dangers that threatened on all
sides. It would seem, however, that misunderstand-
ings were the order of the day, from which the great
pilot himself was not exempt; for he broke out into
mutiny and declared that he would desert the ship.
"Mr. Harley (Feb. 6, 1710-11) desired me to dine
with him again to-day, but I refused him; for I fell
out with him yesterday, and will not see him again
till he makes me amends." He had been insulted
by the offer of a bank-bill, and adds, (Feb. 7,) "I
was this morning early with Mr. Lewis of the se-
cretary's office, and saw a letter Mr. Harley had
sent him, desiring to be reconciled; but I was deaf
to all entreaties, and have desired Lewis to go to him
and let him know I expected further satisfaction.
If we let these great ministers pretend too much
there will be no governing them. He promises to
make me easy if I will but come and see him; but
I won't, and he shall do it by message, or I will cast
him off." Swift accordingly received the apologies
which he conceived due to the position in which he
stood, and Harley and his friend and adviser became
more intimate than before the failure of this at-
tempt to place the latter on the footing of a hireling
writer.
It would seem that he treated St. John with equal
and even greater freedom when occasion called for
it, and says (Feb. 25), “I dined to-day with Mr.
secretary St. John, on condition I might choose my
company, which were lord Rivers, lord Carteret, sir
T. Mansel, and Mr. Lewis. I invited Masham, Hill,
sir John Stanley, and George Granville, but they
xxxii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
were engaged; and I did it in revenge of his having
such bad company when I dined with him before.
So we laughed, &c.” It would appear, however,
that the secretary also knew how to take his revenge,
for we are told he put a cheat upon the doctor"
by intercepting six dozen of excellent Burgundy
which lord Peterborough had sent to be forwarded
to Swift's cellar; but the secretary was "never quiet
till they were all gone, so I reckon he owes me
thirty-six pounds."
No time was lost in preparing for a trial of
strength between the two great contending parties,
and Swift was constant in his attendance at the pre-
mier's weekly council. "I dined with Mr. Harley
to-day" (March 3, 1710-11). "Every Saturday lord-
keeper, secretary St. John, and I dine with him, and
sometimes lord Rivers, and they let in none else.
I stayed with Mr. Harley till nine, when we had
much discourse together after the rest were gone, and
I gave him very truly my opinion when he desired it.”
That opinion was often wanted, for the Whig
leaders had prepared a powerful opposition and re-
newed their intrigues more assiduously than ever at
court. Lord Somers was known to have been more
than once closeted with the queen; the duchess of
Somerset, far more artful and insinuating than her
predecessor the duchess of Marlborough, now held
the key; the extreme Tories took the alarm, headed
by their October Club, and were urging the ministers
to adopt bolder measures. To restrain their ardour,
and at the same time to counteract the Whig efforts,
was now the double task of Swift, and he girded up
his loins to the combat with the spirit of a partisan
determined to spare no means to pull down his ene-
mies and to load them with obloquy and contempt.
With this view he scrupled not to attack their cha-
racters, spared not their private history; their
foibles, their vices, were all rendered subordinate to
the writer's triumph, impelled by the fiery spirit of
the polemic, carried to a height which no powers of
genius and wit should perhaps be allowed to sanction
or excuse. Marlborough, Godolphin, Sunderland,
Cowper, and Walpole, were treated with the utmost
freedom from all respect of persons, in a way hitherto
unpractised: their weaknesses, avarice, or corruption,
were boldly exposed, and, as regarded private affairs,
with an acrimony and violence by no means justifi-
able. These repeated attacks on their main posi-
tions from the "Examiner" were made more murder-
ous and annoying from a continual running fire kept
up by his poetic wit and humour in a rapid serics of
pamphlets, poems, and periodical papers, under the
management of writers whom he termed his under-
strappers. Godolphin, still smarting under "Sid
Hamet's Rod," was only kept in countenance by the
more bitter lampoons discharged at the "virtuous
Somers" and his old enemy the earl of Wharton, in
"A short Character" of him and his Irish govern-
ment, in the course of which the author expresses
his regret that the facts he brought against the lat-
ter were chiefly of a moral and flagitious character,
which exceeded their political criminality, so artfully
conducted as unfortunately not to afford grounds for
the legal impeachment which he so well deserved.
This desperate and uncompromising hostility, so
little expected, seemed to astound the Whigs and
carry terror into their ranks; but the advantages to
have been reaped from it were lost by the outbreak
of fresh divisions in the Tory camp. With some
difficulty he reconciled the jealous leaders, and, fol-
lowing up his blows against the enemy in quick suc-
cession, brought out his tract in defence of Harley,
"Remarks upon a Letter to the Seven Lords who
examined Greg," his "Advice to the Members of
the October Club;" and was already directing his
|
thoughts towards that revolution in public opinion to
which he so greatly contributed-the opening of ne-
gotiations for the establishment of a peace.
|
Among the most interesting events alluded to in
his Journal from the commencement of this first
campaign-hardly less arduous than that of his great
enemy Marlborough-we meet with the following
passages, highly characteristic of the towering pridė
and ambition, as well as the zealous indefatigable
spirit, of the writer. "I have taken (Feb. 13th) Mr.
Harley into favour again;" and being farther concili-
ated by their bland deference and wise submission
to his councils, his vanity breaks out again in this self-
sufficient but frank avowal. (Feb. 17th.) "The mi-
nisters are good honest hearty fellows: I use them
like dogs, because I expect they will use me so.
They call me nothing but Jonathan, and I said I
believed they would leave me Jonathan as they
found me, and that I never knew a minister do
anything for those whom they make companions of
their pleasures; and I believe you will find it so,
but I care not.”
How closely he observed the conduct and demean-
our of the men engaged in the bold and perilous
cause in which he was embarked, staking reputation
and future prospects, and nailing as it were his
colours to the mast-head, is apparent from the fol-
lowing brief remarks:-"I dined (April 1, 1711)
with the secretary, who seemed terribly down and
melancholy, which Mr. Prior and Lewis observed as
well as I perhaps something is gone wrong-per-
haps there is nothing in it." And it is amusing to
see how he followed up any idea that once took
possession of him :-"I called at Mr. Secretary's to
see what the d-l ailed him on Sunday: I made
him a very proper speech-told him I observed he
was much out of temper; that I expected every great
minister who honoured me with his acquaintance,
if he heard or saw anything to my disadvantage,
would let me know it in plain words, and not put
me in pain to guess by the change or coldness of
his countenance or behaviour." As early as March.
1710 he appears to have laid down the true policy of
the ministry, and to have pondered the best mea-
sures for carrying that policy into effect.
kingdom is certainly ruined as much as was ever
any bankrupt merchant. We must have a peace,
whether it be a bad or a good one, though nobody
dares talk of it. The nearer I look upon things,
the worse I like them. I believe the coufederacy
will soon break to pieces, and our factions at home
increase.
They have cautioned the queen
•
"This
so much against being governed that she observes it
too much. I could talk till to-morrow upon these
things, but they make me melancholy. I could not
but observe lately, after much conversation with Mr.
Harley, though he is the most fearless man alive
and the least apt to despond, he confessed to me
that uttering his mind to me gave him ease." Swift's
precautions, however, had disarmed their opponents
of half their power by conciliating the members of
the October Club," who wished to push matters to
an extreme; he had foiled all his opponents by the
mingled vigour, wit, and irony of his "Examiners;"
and having again renewed the campaign, he was al-
ready preparing notes for his masterly treatises upon
"The Conduct of the Allies." "Lord Rivers," he
says, talking to me the other day, cursed the paper
called the Examiner' for speaking civilly of the duke
of Marlborough. This I happened to talk of to the
secretary, who blamed the warmth of that lord and
(
"They consisted of about two hundred members of parlia-
ment, and met at the Bell tavern, in King-street, Westminster.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
Xxxiu
The
"The
some others, and swore if their advice was followed
they would be blown up in twenty-four hours; and
I have reason to think they will endeavour to pre-
vail on the queen to put her affairs more in the
hands of a ministry than she does at present; and
there are two men thought on, one of whom you
have often met the name of in my letters."
chief danger, however, arose from want of concert
and confidence in the leaders themselves. Harley
was reserved and mysterious, became dilatory from
having too great a weight of business upon his hands,
and feared to trust his colleagues; while St. John,
equally hot and active, was jealous, moody, and in-
dignant. The high Tories of one faction were sus-
pected of being favourable to the succession of the
chevalier de St. George, headed by Bolingbroke,
Ormond, and perhaps Rivers; and Harley, on the
other hand, having, like Swift, been brought up
with the Whigs, was disposed to moderate measures
and in favour of the house of Hanover.
Whigs whisper," he writes (Aug. 23rd, 1711), "that
our ministry differ among themselves, and they be-
gin to talk of the secretary. They have some
reason for their whispers, though I thought it was
a greater secret. I do not much like the aspect of
things. I always apprehended that any falling out
would ruin them, and so I have told them several
times." Though St. John was a man of great abili-
ties, active, prompt, and vigorous, his love of pleasure,
his jealousy, and ambition, were as serious obsta-
cles to business as the too great caution and delay of
his colleague. "The deuce is in the secretary,"
exclaimed Swift, quite out of humour (Oct. 31,
1711); "when I went to him this morning he had
people with him, but says we are to dine with
Prior to-day, and then will do all our business in
the afternoon. At two Prior sends word he is
otherwise engaged; then the secretary and I go and
dine with brigadier Britton; sit till eight, grow
merry, no business done; we part, and appoint no
time to meet again. This is the fault of all the
present ministers-teazing me to death for my assist-
ance, laying the whole weight of their affairs upon
it, and slipping opportunities.'
"
Owing to these and other causes, notwithstanding
Swift's efforts, the affairs of the Tories wore an un-
promising aspect. The Whigs were on the alert,
and resolved to omit no opportunity to compass the
ruin of their adversaries. The affair of the peace
was one of extreme difficulty; popular opinion was
in favour of the war, and it called for equal skill
and daring to meet the opposition, with the lustre of
Marlborough's victories fresh upon them, upon such
ground, with any rational hopes of success. Swift
saw that before venturing to hint a peace it would
be necessary to point out such extravagant expense
and imposition in conducting the war as would
lead indirectly to disgust the nation with the
conduct of the general and of the ministers who
managed it. It would be necessary to conciliate
different parties, and to obtain the full support of
the country interest, so as to carry a decided ma-
jority in the house of commons. For these reasons
Swift exerted his utmost care and judgment in draw-
ing up his celebrated tracts entitled "The Conduct
of the Allies," which produced so sudden and de-
cided a change in public opinion regarding the war
that the ministry were almost immediately enabled
to carry their ulterior measures into effect.
Within
less than a month 17,000 copies are stated to have
been sold; seven editions of the treatise having been
printed in England and three in Ireland. The
Tory members in both houses who spoke drew all
their arguments from it, and the resolutions which
|
passed were little more than quotations from it; in
consequence of which the ministry gained a majority
of 150, while the public feeling from without was still
more loudly expressed. The importance, indeed,
of Swift's exertions at this time seems to have made
a deep impression upon the ministry, who had now
time to breathe, to mature their plans, and, if dili-
gent, wise, and cautious, as it was his great object to
render them, to consolidate the power they had ac-
quired. He set them the best example by perform-
ing everything he undertook with scrupulous exact-
ness, care, and business-like promptitude, in theory
or action; letting no opportunity escape him of
urging the ministers to keep pace with him in carry-
ing out the details of their plans. He told them
boldly to their faces of their faults, sometimes in a
serious, at others in a jocose mood, and above all
things entreated them to preserve a good under-
standing. There are many little anecdotes which
show with how much freedom, as well as wit and
good humour, his intercourse with the great men of
the day was carried on.ª Swift had received a pre-
sent of a curious snuff-box from colonel Hill, beau-
tifully painted with a variety of figures, which he
showed to lord Oxford, who, after having examined
the workmanship, turned up the bottom of the box,
where he spied a figure resembling a goose studded
on the outside of the box; upon which, turning to
Swift, he said, "Jonathan, I think the colonel has
• Some of these occur in the diary of bishop Kennet, whose
strong Whig principles and terror of the pope and the pretender
made him look upon Swift as one of Satan's imps, busied in
restoring them to their ancient power and splendour. It is a
most amusing sketch of the dean, the more graphic as coming
from the hand of an enemy. "Dr. Swift came into the coffee-
house and had a how from everybody but me. When I camo
to the antechamber to wait before prayers, Dr. Swift was the
principal man of talk and business, and acted as a master of
requests. He was soliciting the earl of Arran to speak to his
brother, the duke of Ormond, to get a chaplain's place esta-
blished in the garrison of Hull for Mr. Fiddes, a clergyman in
that neighbourhood, who had lately been in jail, and published
sermons to pay fees. He was promising Mr. Thorold to un-
dertake with my lord-treasurer that, according to his petition,
he should obtain a salary of two hundred a-year as minister of
the English church at Rotterdam. He stopped F. Gwynne,
esq., going in with the red bag to the queen, and told him
alond he had something to say to him from my lord-treasurer.
He talked with the son of Dr. Davenant to be sent abroad, and
took out his pocket-book and wrote down several things as
memoranda to do for him. He turned to the fire and took out
his gold watch, and, telling him the time of day, complained
that it was very late. A gentleman said the doctor was too
fast: How can I help that,' he replied, if the courtiers give
me a watch that won't go right? Then he instructed a young
nobleman that the best poet in England was Mr. Pope (a pa-
pist), who had begun a translation of Homer into English
verse, for which he must have them all subscribe; 'for,' says
he, the author shall not begin to print till I have a thousand
guineas for him.' Lord-treasurer, after leaving the queen,
came through the room, beckoning Dr. Swift to follow him:
both went off just before prayers, I see and hear a great deal
to confirm a doubt that the pretender's interest is much at the
bottom of some hearts: a whisper that Mr. Nelson had a
prime hand in the late book for hereditary right; and that one
of them was presented to her majesty herself, whom God pre-
serve from the effect of such principles and such intrigues l'
•
4
(
Still more ludicrous is the picture drawn of Swift at this
period by some critic of his political tracts, who describes the
doctor presiding at his levee, with Patrick as his master of
ceremonies, to whom his first instructions were, never to pres
sent any service. "Notice was given that all petitions be de-
livered to him on the knee, sitting to receive them like a
Triton in a scene of wreck, whore, at one view, according to
Patrick's fancy in disposing of them, you might have seen half-
shirts and shams, rowlers, decayed nightgowns, snuff swimming
upon gruel, and bottles with candles stuck in them; ballads tõ
bê sung in the street, and speeches to be made from the throne;
making rules of his own to distinguish which showed that ho
was greater than any of them himself. For if a lord came to
his levee he would say, Prithee, lord, take away that d-d
ch-p-t and sit down. But if it were a commoner only ho
would remove the implement himself, swearing that he would
send Pat to the devil if the dog did not seem willing to go to
him himself.”
xxxiv
LIFE AND WORKS OF
made a goose of you.' "It is true, my lord," re-
plied Swift; " but if you will look a little farther
you will see I am driving a snail before me;" which
indeed happened to be the device. That's severe
enough, Jonathan," said my lord, "but I deserved
it." The Tory ministry, in fact, might consider
themselves fortunate at such a juncture to possess a
monitor who would thus faithfully and wittily remind
them of their errors; a coadjutor to supply their
want of tact and concert; an advocate to maintain
their cause with the people, and to hold their power-
ful enemies at bay. His strong natural sagacity,
rendered more penetrating by his close observations
upon human nature, saw dangers at a distance, and
more than compensated for the absence of that local
and technical acquaintance with routine and de-
tails which might have interfered with the keenness
of his intellectual vision. It is singular that although
in many instances when the events took place, he
reminded the ministers of his warnings and pre-
dictions, it seemed to produce very little effect upon
their future movements. They had already had
more than one miraculous escape, when their ruin
soon after the meeting of parliament appeared in-
evitable; and had not so powerful a champion
turned the tide of public opinion, and thrown round
them the shield of his invincible wit and satire, the
Whigs had so prepared their measures as to have
supplanted the new men both in the court and the
parliament. By his dexterous conduct he had
placed the Whigs in a false position, and even ren-
dered them obnoxious by his exposure of their mo-
tives in carrying on the war: he prevented the mi-
nisters coming to an open rupture at the most cri-
tical moment; and by the rapidity with which he
followed up his attacks till the conclusion of a peace,
he allowed the opposition no time to recover breath,
making fresh appeals and exposing them to the people
with all the powers of argument and ridicule of which
he was master. Thus, his friend Prior having been
sent on a secret mission to France, Swift instantly
seized the moment, turning the incident, upon its
accidentally transpiring, to the best account; smooth-
ing the way and preparing the minds of men for the
pacific overtures that were to follow. He wrote a
little tract purporting to give an account of Prior's
journey, full of the most natural and humorous in-
cidents, but concealing under the guise of an actual
journey the allusions and arguments necessary for
his purpose.
He correctly represented how Eng-
land was considered the dupe of her allies, and bore
nearly the whole burden of the war, of which her
allies and her enemies finally reaped the whole ad-
vantage. It met with astonishing success, enabled
the grand question of the peace to be carried smoothly
and satisfactorily on, raised the ministry in public
opinion, and gave the author leisure to look round
and pursue one or two favourite plans wholly un-
connected with politics. He had already succeeded
in the affair of remission of the Irish first-fruits, and
would have obtained still further boons, owing greatly
to the popularity of several of his early tracts relating
to the government and discipline of the church, had
not the jealousy of the Irish prelacy, endeavouring
to deprive the premier of the merit of these conces-
sions, interfered with his purpose. It had long been
his favourite project to form an academy to establish
the English language upon some more solid founda-
tion. With this view he published a proposal for
correcting, improving, and ascertaining the English
tongue, conveyed in a letter to the lord-treasurer.
But the plan which he wished to institute for
the success of his purpose has been considered ex-
ceedingly defective: Swift's knowledge of the an-
cient languages is supposed to have been limited,
and it is justly remarked by Mr. Mitford that the
purity of a language will never be preserved by the
laws of an academy; writers themselves participate
in the causes of its change, and have neither the
power to effect its renewal nor to delay its decline.
Other and more pressing objects likewise soon en-
gaged Swift's own attention and that of the mi-
nistry; and though we are told that the plan met
with Harley's concurrence, it fell to the ground.
During this period of active exertion (1710-1712),
in which Swift's unrivalled talents, at once brilliant
and profound, had placed him in the first rank
of political writers, the ministers had not failed to
express their sense of the obligations he had con-
ferred by recommending him for promotion; but
the intrigues of the duchess of Somerset and the
interference of the archbishop of York prevailed
with her majesty, in addition to certain prejudices
she had imbibed against the doctor, to bestow the
vacancies elsewhere. Swift now re-entered the field
of controversy with unsubdued spirit and resolution;
and the "Public Spirit of the Whigs," a splendid
and masterly piece of satire, made its appearance.
"We have no quiet," he observes (Oct. 26, 1711),
"with the Whigs; they are so violent against a
peace; but I will cool them with a vengeance very
soon. I have written a paper which the ministers
reckon will do abundance of good, and open the
eyes of the nation, who are half bewitched against a
peace. Few of this generation can remember any-
thing but war and taxes, and they think it is as it
should be; whereas it is certain we are the most
undone people in Europe, as I am afraid I shall
make appear beyond all contradiction." So great
was the alarm and indignation of the opposition on
the publication of this last tract, that a portion of
them, the Scotch lords, incensed at some national
reflections, went in a body to complain of the author
to the queen. A proclamation was accordingly is-
sued, with a reward of 3007. for his discovery; but
by the exertions of lord Oxford further proceedings
were dropped.
Upon the meeting of parliament, 7th December,
1711, Swift's apprehensions of the queen's weakness
and the counter-influence of the Whigs at court
proved only too well founded. As forming the most
interesting portion of his political life, it will be de-
sirable to give the events as they occurred in his own
words. "The earl of Nottingham began and spoke
against a peace, desiring that in their address they
might put in a clause to advise the queen not to
make a peace without Spain, which was debated
and carried by the Whigs, by about six voices, in a
This result as-
committee of the whole house."
tounded the boldest partisans of the ministry, with
the exception of Swift, who had forewarned them
what would happen if the heads failed to act in
concert and exert their utmost influence with the
court. The queen's conduct tended to increase the
alarm. "When the queen was going from the house
of lords, where she sat to hear the debate, the duke
of Shrewsbury, lord-chamberlain, asked her majesty
whether he or the great chamberlain, Lindsey, ought
to lead her out? She answered short, Neither
of you,' and gave her hand to the duke of Somerset,
who was louder than any in the house against a
peace."
In consequence of this supposed change of sen-
timents in her majesty the clause was carried the
next day in the house of lords almost two to one.-
"The partisans of the old ministry" ("History of
the Peace of Utrecht"), he says, "triumphed loudly
and without any reserve, as if the game were their
JONATHAN SWIFT.
XXXV
own. The earl of Wharton was observed in the
house to smile and to put his hands to his neck
when any of the ministry were speaking, by which
he would have it understood that some heads were
in danger. Parker, the chief-justice, began already
with great zeal and officiousness to prosecute authors
and printers of weekly and other papers written in
defence of the administration; in short, joy and
vengeance sat visible in every countenance of that
party."
It would appear at this juncture that the fall of the
ministry was inevitable, but having already been in-
debted to the exertions of Swift for their preserva-
tion they again looked to him for aid, which, if they
had made a good use of his advice and the popular
influence of his writings, they would not then have
stood in need of. The ascendancy he had obtained
and that extensive patronage which gave him the
power, as he said, of serving every one but himself,
were now at their height, and the stirring scenes
that followed will be best conveyed in his own
words, as strongly characterising the motives and
objects of the contending parties.
"On the other side, all well-wishers to the church,
the queen, or the peace, were equally dejected; and
the treasurer stood the foremost mark both of his
enemies' fury and the censure of his friends. Among
the latter, some imputed this fatal miscarriage to his
procrastinating nature; others to his immeasurable
public thrift. Both parties agreed that a first mi-
nister, with very moderate skill in affairs, might
easily have governed the events; and some began to
doubt whether the great fame of his abilities, acquired
in other stations, were what he justly deserved."
It must have been painful for Swift to make these
severe but just remarks, attached as he was to the
interests of the lord-treasurer, and sensible how
closely his own prospects were blended with his suc-
cess. The ensuing interview between them is one
of the most striking of the kind upon record; it
brings admirably both their characters into display;
and it is curious to observe that Swift takes him to
task rather like a monitor annoyed at the failure of
his pupil than a friend prepared to sympathise with
him on his misfortune. "Mr. Masham begged us
to stay because lord-treasurer would call, and we
were resolved to fall on him about his negligence in
securing a majority. He came, and appeared in good
humour, as usual, but I thought his countenance was
much cast down. I rallied him, and desired him to
give me his staff, which he did; I told him if he
would secure it me a week I would set all right.
He asked how? I said I would immediately turn
lord Marlborough, his two daughters, the duke and
duchess of Somerset, and lord Cholmondeley out
of all their employments; and I believe he had not
a friend but was of my opinion. Arbuthnot asked
how he came not to secure a majority? He could
answer nothing but that he could not help it if
people would lie and forswear: a poor answer for a
great minister. There fell from him a scripture expres-
sion, That the hearts of kings are unsearchable.'
I told him it was what I feared, and was from him
the worst news he could tell me." He goes on to
say (Journal, Dec. 8th, 1711), "This is all your
d-d d-l of Somerset's doing. I warned the minis-
ters of it nine months ago, and a hundred times
since. The secretary always dreaded it. I told lord-
treasurer I should have the advantage of him, for he
would lose his head, and I should only be hanged,
and so carry my body entire to the grave."
Swift, who had already shown his statesmanlike
power and judgment in drawing up the celebrated
"Representation of the House of Commons on the
State of the Nation," and the well-timed address of
thanks to the queen, now set his whole mind and
thoughts upon retrieving as quickly as possible the
ground the ministry had lost. Instead of being
daunted at the perilous aspect of affairs he vigorously
applied himself to bring fresh accessions of popular
opinion, while the premier, with equal firmness, took
measures to strengthen his influence with the queen.
Alluding to his promptitude and courage, Swift, as
if eager to do justice to the great qualities displayed
He never
by Oxford at this eventful juncture, says,
wanted a reserve upon any emergency which would
appear desperate to others;" and the correctness of
this opinion was speedily shown by his not only be-
coming reinstated in the queen's favour, but acquiring
influence sufficient to dismiss his most formidable
adversaries. While the fate of the ministry still
trembled in the balance Swift kept his word with
the lord-treasurer of answering for the stability of
his ministry if he would ensure him his staff of office
for a week, by the admirable tact and vigour with
which he pushed the Whigs and excited the popular
mind in favour of the peace and other essentials to
the consolidation of the Oxford administration. It
is quite evident that Swift was greatly alarmed at
this crisis, even more moved than the premier him-
self, at the sudden eclipse of his rising power and
prospects; that he gives the ministers full praise for
tact and resolution, and by no means arrogates for
himself higher merit and influence in producing the
increased stability of the Tory government than his
exertions seem to have sanctioned. Yet many of his
biographers, and in particular a noble author who
prepared the way for Johnson and his disciples,
question the reality of Swift's influence with the
ministry, though it is more difficult to challenge his
reputation and popular fame both with the English
and the Irish public. He is supposed by them to have
been amused only by the ministry with the shadow,
not the substance, of a great and influential name;
that he assumed the airs of a patron instead of acting
the part of a friend; affected to perform greater ser-
vices than he ever did or could; was suspected and
shunned by Addison, and laughed at by Steele and
other leading Whigs; nay, that Harley and St. John
themselves never permitted him to see deeper than
the surface. Nothing can be more amusing than to
observe these futile suggestions of surviving envy
and malice in those destitute of honesty and mag-
nanimity sufficient to admit their own immeasurable
inferiority, and the possibility of the bare existence
of an intellectual vigour, acumen, and abundant wit,
so far transcending what are met with in the mass of
mankind. "He was elated with the appearance of
enjoying ministerial confidence. He enjoyed the
shadow-the substance was detained from him. He
was employed, not trusted; and at the same time that
he imagined himself a subtile diver, who dexterously
shot down into the profoundest regions of politics,
he was suffered only to sound the shallows nearest the
shore, and was scarce admitted to descend below the
froth at the top."-(Orrery's "Remarks on the Life of
Swift.") In reply to this strange and confused in-
vective, in which the falseness of the incongruous
images, and metaphors stumbling upon metaphors, is
not an unsuitable vehicle for the accusations they con-
tain, it may be remarked that the men who received
the benefit of Swift's exertions were fully as able to
form an estimate of them as his lordship, and that, if
they entertained designs unknown to their adviser
respecting the succession, or any other, a very im-
probable supposition,-it was only the more honour-
able to the character of the latter, showing their
respect and deference for the superior ability and
xxxvi
LIFE AND WORKS OF
integrity of him whom they dared not to intrust with
their dangerous doctrines. His labours in their
cause are the best refutation of imputed want of in-
fluence and knowledge; while the extreme popu-
larity of his works, his appeasing the continual dis-
cord and mutiny in the Tory camp, the painful
confidence he complains of in having to reconcile
the leaders themselves, his rendering innocuous the
powerful October Club, his successful effort of bring-
ing over the nation to listen to peace and to behold
with apathy the dismissal of Marlborough himself
from all his commands, and the fall of Somerset and
the old favourites of the queen,-results following the
skilful and masterly expositions in Swift's tracts on
the war,-present an array of facts which no theories
far more ingenious than lord Orrery's have yet been
able to shake.
The lofty eminence to which Swift's powerful
talents had now raised him seems to have excited
the jealousy or ill-feeling of some of his early friends
and ablest contemporaries. Addison, Steele, Hen-
ley, Philips, Rowe, and others of less account be-
longing to the Whig party, felt themselves completely
thrown into the shade by one man standing alone
and conspicuous, the great champion of his party;
a writer too who had risen by the sheer force of wit
and talent, independent and unconnected with lite-
rary or political partisanship, and by whom those
who had not prudently retired from the conflict had
been grievously overthrown. It is singular that,
situated as they were, the great literary leaders of
their respective parties, and both men eminently en-
dowed with surpassing qualities of mind though of a
different texture, Swift and Addison, under the
strong circumstances which impelled them, never
came into political collision, or allowed the madness
of party to produce more than a temporary coldness,
which ended in even a warmer friendship. In the
history of political contests this is a gratifying fact,
honourable alike to both parties, but more particu-
larly so to Addison, who, instigated by the most
amiable and praiseworthy motives not less than from
policy, sacrificed to his regard and reverence for
genius and friendship the honours to be reaped
from political controversy-most probably the morti-
fication of defeat. For Swift was no respecter of
persons, whether of friend or foe, when the stern
dictates of supposed duty influenced his conduct;
and there cannot be a doubt that, had Addison so far
mistaken his character as to have crossed his path,
he must have shared the same fate as Swift's more
humble adversaries. Policy and good feeling alike
dictated the course he pursued; and we trace the
same respect and deference as to a superior genius,
so wise, and at the same time amiable, in his whole
correspondence with Swift, even when the latter
seems to place to Addison's account the puerile ob-
stinacy, folly, and ingratitude of Steele's conduct.
He observed the same uniform delicacy and respect
to the close of his career, in regard to avoiding every
occasion likely to produce unpleasant feelings or
give offence; while Swift on his side conducted
himself with equal disinterestedness and magna-
nimity under Steele's worst provocations,-interced-
ing for Addison's friends with the ministry, though
in open enmity with himself, and engaging that
Addison's own interest should be held inviolate.
any confirmation of facts like these, so honourable to
both, and affording so complete a refutation of the
calumnies heaped upon Swift, were wanting, it is to
be found in Addison's own correspondence under his
own hand. In a letter written a little previous to
this period, which shows the delight he took in
Swift's society, and does justice to those social qua-
If
lities and high characteristics which made him so
much courted by the ingenious and well-informed
of all ranks--not excepting the highest-we trace in
every line the regard in which this great man was
held by his amiable contemporary." I have run so
much in debt with you that I do not know how to
excuse myself, and therefore shall throw myself
wholly upon your good nature; and promise, if you
will pardon what is past, to be more punctual with
you for the future. I hope to have the happiness of
waiting on you very suddenly at Dublin, and do not
at all regret the leaving of England, while I am
going to a place where I shall have the satisfaction
and honour of Dr. Swift's conversation. I shall not
trouble you with any occurrences here, because I
hope to have the pleasure of talking over all affairs
with you very suddenly. I hope to be at Holyhead
by the 30th inst. Lady Wharton stays in England.
I suppose you know that I obeyed all the bishop of
Clogher's commands in relation to Mr. Smith; for I
desired Mr. Dawson to acquaint you with it. I must
beg my most humble duty to the bishop of Clogher.
I heartily long to eat a dish of bacon and beans in
the best company in the world. Mr. Steele and I
often drink your health. I am forced to give myself
the airs of a punctual correspondence with you in
discourse with your friends at St. James's coffee-
house, who are always asking me questions about
you when they have aimed to pay their court to me,
who love and esteem you if possible as much as you
"Yours entirely,
deserve.
"J. ADDISON.”
St. James's Place, April, 1710.
There was no one in whose society Swift took
more unalloyed pleasure, or of whom he entertained
a higher opinion for the sterling qualities of heart
and mind, even after the divisions of party gave rise
to some degree of restraint and coldness. The letter
he received previous to his departure for England,
soon after the tidings of his mother's death,a displays
on the part of Addison a degree of regard and affec-
tion of which, with the exception of Tickell, he gave
no other example in the course of either his literary
or political connexions.
[From Mr. Addison to Dr. Swift].
"DEAR SIR,—I am just now come from Finglass,
where I have been drinking your health and talking
of you with one who loves and admires you better
than any man in the world, except your humble ser-
vant. We both agree in a request that you will set
out for Dublin as soon as possible. To tell you
truly, I find the place disagreeable, and cannot
imagine why it should appear so now more than it
did last year. You know I look upon everything
that is like a compliment as a breach of friendship;
and therefore shall only tell you that I long to see
you, without assuring you that I love your company
and value your conversation more than any man's,
or that I am with the most inviolable sincerity, dear
sir, your most faithful, most humble, and most obe-
dient servant,
"J. ADDISON."
It would appear from both these letters, as well as
from the general tenor of his friend's correspondence,
that Swift's temper and disposition even during his
prouder days were by no means of the austere or un-
amiable kind so generally attributed to him, but that
he was distinguished for his engaging manners, his
social genius, and good nature, as well as kindness.
"I" have now lost," says Swift, "my barrier between me and
death: God grant that I may live to be as well prepared for it
as I confidently believe her to have been. If the way to
heaven be through piety, truth, justice, and charity, she is
there." (Copied from Swift's memorandum-book for 1710.)
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xxxvii
of heart and almost universal charity. From that
strange compound of wit and folly, Henley, who
subsequently smarted under his satire, we gather
testimonies to his good and gentle qualities in the
following expressive language:-"I should not have
presumed to imagine that you would deign to cast
an eye on anything proceeding from so mean a
hand as mine, had I not been encouraged by that
character of candour and sweetness of temper for
which you are so justly celebrated by all good men,
as the delicia humani generis; and I make no ques-
tion but, like your predecessor (an emperor again),
you reckon every day as lost in which you have not
an opportunity of doing some act of beneficence."-
(About 1709 or 1710.)
Other testimonials from the great Whig writers of
the day, expressing their veneration for Swift's sur-
passing genius, and their regard for his virtues and
merits as a man, might be adduced without number,
did not matters more important than the envy and
malignity of inferior minds claim our attention.
The gradual coolness which supervened between him
and the Whigs appears upon a dispassionate view of
the correspondence between them to have been
chiefly owing to the jealousy and even ingratitude
of the latter, who, after Swift had engaged the mi-
nistry to retain them in their places, turned round
upon the first opportunity against their benefactor,
wholly neglected and abandoned him upon a change
of fortune, and have been handed down in his own
memoranda as examples of the truth of Rochefou-
cault's maxim, that "to make ingrates you have
only to confer obligations." We learn from numer-
ous passages in the Journal that the coolness and
estrangement of which Swift complains soon ex-
tended in some degree to Addison,-commenced
wholly upon the side of the latter, and must have
been produced by that consciousness of inferiority
so clearly shown by his cautious withdrawal from
the controversy, and his abandonment of an office
for which he was so little qualified. If we consider
also that he stood at the head-at the literary head
at least of the opposition, that from a chief mover
in the stirring scene he became an unwilling "Spec-
tator," directing his attention wholly to literary
trifles,—the tittle-tattle adapted for the meridian of
the petty coteries of the hour, which only once
elicited the good-humoured raillery of Swift,—it was
natural that a man in Addison's position should feel
a little annoyed and thrown off his balance. Of this
we could adduce many curious instances; while
Swift, on the other hand, tried every art consistent
with what he conceived to be his public duty to
protect and recommend the discomfited literary ad-
herents of the Whigs. Congreve, Rowe, Philips,
Steele, and Addison himself, were more than once
indebted to his generous intercession; and he even
threw his ample shield round those most exposed to
the vengeance and antipathy of the ministry. With
equal violation of principle and decorum, Steele,
while he retained office under them, secretly attacked
the Oxford administration with the utmost virulence.
Under the stupid allegory of a change of managers
at a theatre, he or Henley gave the character of
Harley as that of a low intriguer who had wormed
himself into the chief management to the detriment
of the good old actors, and opened the way to fo-
reign pretenders. He would have been deservedly
cashiered for this absurd and impertinent attack
upon those whose interests he was bound to defend;
and he would have lost both his valuable offices of
gazetteer and commissioner of stamp-duties, had not
Swift, as he expressly states, risked his own reputa-
tion with the ministry to secure him the possession
|
of the latter.a This disinterested act however,
with the christian temper and self-command which,
added to Steele's violent conduct, placed it out
of Swift's power, as he justly states, either to re-
taliate upon him or to speak more in his favour,
instead of conciliating seemed only to redouble
Steele's ire, and from that time he threw off all de-
cency and restraint in his language towards his former
friend and his benefactor. Though he must have
been aware that Swift had given up the direction of
the "Examiner" at the forty-fifth number of the work,
in the "Guardian" (No. 53) he attacks Swift in
a tone of anger and affected contempt, pretending to
class him with the notorious Mrs. Manley and other
assistants of the "Examiner," scarcely scrupling to
charge him with infidelity—which he knew must be
the most galling of all imputations to a man who so
far regulated his conduct by his religious convictions,
that his benevolence and charity were the result not
of mere good nature, but of principle and obedience
to the divine laws. Swift felt the insult too deeply
to enter into a vulgar controversy with one who
had put it out of his power to injure him by the ob-
ligations he had received;" but he fully vindicated
himself in a letter to Addison, asserting his ignorance
of any charges of the kind, even of the person of the
editor of the "Examiner;" but which had only the
effect of producing from Steele a still more angry
and petulant reply. During the whole of this idle
and unseemly contest on Steele's part, in which he
seems to have been countenanced by Addison, the
superiority of temper as well as of argument must
strike every impartial reader as leaning to Swift's
side; while jealousy and disappointed ambition are
but too conspicuously displayed on the other.
The "Letter upon the English Language" was not the
only literary publication which Swift found leisure to
publish during the stirring period that ensued. As each
of his productions was dictated by occasion, or directed
to some political end or purpose-to the agreeable or
the useful, in compliance with the precept of Horace-
as well as to retaliate upon some unfortunate lord or
great man who had incurred his displeasure, he threw
off ballads, tracts, poems, and contributions to various
papers, with an ease and rapidity which must have
astonished the public had they appeared with his own
name. But his known contempt for mere literary
fame, and disregard of his own productions beyond
the precise object they were intended to accomplish,
when he "whistled them down the wind to prey at
fortune," was the cause of annoyance and vexation to
him during his lifetime, and of more serious incon-
venience and mischief after his decease. Needy or
rapacious men, who hang upon the skirts of genius
like vultures upon the march of some noble army,
took advantage of his remissness, and published for
their own advantage-often with and sometimes with-
out the author's consent-productions which, either
separately or embodied in a proper form, would have
made a very handsome addition to Swift's income.
He was notwithstanding economical and desirous of
increasing his resources; and we can only account for
his apparent indifference on this head by his pride,
his noble desire of standing on high and independent
ground, without laying himself open to the suspicion
of being actuated by the sordid love of gain in his
professed principles, his political views, or his mere
literary efforts. Actuated by such motives, instead
of protecting he took pride in bestowing his copy-
right either on his friends or those printers or book-
sellers for whom he had any regard. He presented
Steele with several able papers for the "Tatler," as-
See the correspondence between Swift and Steele, and Swift
and Addison.
Xxxviii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
a
signed over to his friend Pope his share in a new
edition of the "Miscellanies," and made all his writings
in fact subservient to the interest or objects of others;
while he felt so little of the usual vanity of authors
that, except in one instance, he never seemed am-
bitious of claiming for himself even the just fame to
which he was entitled. It was in this way that the
publication of his "Miscellanies" first took place in the
year 1711, by John Morphew, without Swift's name
and most probably without his knowledge. At the
same time the publisher brought them out respectably,
and had the grace in a preface to apologise for the
liberty he had taken with the author in giving these
pieces to the world without his consent. From his
observations to Stella it seems that he had himself
contemplated the publication subsequently brought
out by Pope-was annoyed at this spurious edition-
and had some doubt that Tooke, with whom he was
in communication, had some share in the under-
taking in that imperfect form.
The "History of the Peace of Utrecht," executed
about this period with the view of strengthening the
hands of the ministry, can hardly be regarded as a
mere literary composition. Here was the strong
foundation upon which the Oxford ministry calculated
to raise the edifice of a more permanent power than
their first weak hold upon the court and nation had
promised. Without the talents of Swift to prepare
as well as to defend pacific measures, it was impossi-
ble to mature their plans; for though Swift had suc-
ceeded in reconciling the popular mind to a peace,
it was a different task to make its conditions palatable
with a powerful opposition eager to excite commo-
tion and to arraign the motives and rebut the argu-
ments of the writer. This work, subsequently merged
in the "Four Last Years of Queen Anne's Reign,"
was composed with great rapidity, every facility in
regard to materials and the details having been sup-
plied by his friends the ministers. At the moment
it was completed fresh divisions broke out in the ad-
ministration; Oxford and Bolingbroke viewed matters
in so different a light that they refused to concur in
some particular statements; and afraid of still fur-
ther widening the breach, the author was induced to
postpone its publication. He observes in one of his
letters (to Miss Vanhomrigh, July 8, 1713), “I verily
think if the thing you know of had been published
just upon the peace, the ministry might have avoided
what has since happened." It is evident indeed from
many circumstances that Swift foresaw the downfall
of the ministry long before the actors who were deeply
engaged in the state drama, like the spectator calmly
contemplating the game of which he sees more than
the players. It was this knowledge that determined
him to lose no time in employing such influence as
he possessed for the welfare and happiness of others,
if he could not succeed, as now seemed probable, in
promoting his own interest with the ministry. The
benefits he conferred upon men of worth and talent
at this period, and the sums he raised to relieve the
unfortunate and necessitous, raised him in the esteem
of men of all parties, whom in a little time he suc-
ceeded in bringing together and meeting in a club
under the affectionate appellations of relations and
brothers, upon the avowed principle of affording
relief to the worthy and distressed. Such facts of
themselves supply sufficient proof that he was not
elated with success and the reputation he had ac-
quired, that he was actuated by the same motives,
by the same calm, benevolent, and compassionate
disposition, which made him fly to the relief of the
afflicted or the oppressed, regardless of his own en-
When he was provoked by some lacerating reflection upon
his youth and inexperience to own himself the author of
"Athens and Rome," &c.
gagements, risks, or sufferings. The Whig Congreve
was received by lord Oxford with such marked atten-
tion at Swift's particular request, as excited his asto-
nishment and gratitude. "And thus," observes his
benefactor with a feeling of unalloyed pleasure, “I
have made a worthy man easy, and that's a good day's
work." Instances of the kind are profusely scattered
throughout his Journal, and in one place he specifies
his meeting with the philanthropical society alluded
to:-"I dined to-day with our society, the greatest
dinner I have ever seen: it was at Jack Hill's, the go-
vernor of Dunkirk. I gave an account of sixty
guineas I had collected, and am to give them away
to two authors to-morrow; and lord-treasurer has
promised me 1007. to reward some others.” On the
13th again he adds, "I was to see a poor poet, one
Mr. Diaper, in a nasty garret, very sick. I gave him
twenty guineas from lord Bolingbroke, and disposed
the other sixty to two other authors. I was naming
some time ago to a certain person another cer-
tain person that was very deserving and poor and
sickly; and the other, that first certain person, gave
me 100l. to give the other. The person who is to
have it never saw the giver, nor expects one farthing,
nor has the least knowledge or imagination of it; so
I believe it will be a very agreeable surprise, for I
think it a handsome present enough....I paid the
hundred this evening, and it was a great surprise to
the receiver.”
The interview, likewise, which Swift brought
about between Parnell and the premier, and subse-
quently between Addison and lord Bolingbroke,
when they dined together at the house of the latter,
shows Swift's uniform desire to promote amity be-
tween excellent and distinguished individuals, of
whatever party. He usually contrived also that the
ministers should make the first advances, so that, he
observes, the lord-treasurer should desire to become
acquainted with Parnell, not Parnell with the minis-
ter. In the instance of Pope, now fast emerging into
popular fame, he exerted himself with all the affec-
tionate energy of a parent; took his fortunes under
his special care and protection, and by his active
zeal and success opened the way for that lasting
mutual respect and friendship which ended only
with their lives. It was the same with regard to
Gay and Arbuthnot, the last of whom, though he
stood in no need of patrons, was indebted for the
most delightful hours he spent, and for the relief
afforded to the tedium of a fatal disease, to the kind
and social qualities of his friend Swift. It is well
known that the celebrated Berkeley, afterwards
bishop of Cloyne, dated his rise in the world to the
generous and disinterested support of Swift; he re-
commended Rowe, and supported Prior, whose
weakness and imprudence had reduced him from
comparative affluence to a state of wretchedness and
destitution. When his last exertions in favour of
Steele were met by him and his friend Addison
with jealousy, ingratitude, and even derision,
he would not permit any alteration in the con-
duct of the latter to produce serious estrangement,
and deeply regretted the coldness he could not but
perceive. "Mr. Addison and I are different as black
and white, and I believe our friendship will go off
by this d-d business of party. He cannot bear
seeing me fall in so with the ministry, but I love him
still as much as ever, though we seldom mect."
Soon afterwards he alludes to Addison as the cause
of Steele's refusing to keep his appointment and
expressing his obligations to his benefactor and to
the ministry. He treated his friend's wayward and
jealous humour with singular forbearance through-
out, though he reflected upon and even ridiculed it
in the strictness of private confidence, when address-
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xxxix
ing his friends in Ireland: "I called," he says,
"at
the coffeehouse, where I had not been in a week,
and talked coldly awhile with Mr. Addison; all our
friendship and dearness are off; we are civil ac-
quaintance; talk words of course, of when we shall
meet, and that's all. Is it not odd? But I think he
has used me ill; and I have used him too well, at
least his friend Steele." This temporary distance
and coldness, however, went no further; nor did it
interfere with Swift's unvarying kindness towards
his Whig friends and their acquaintance; he rescued
Bernage and Beaumont from ruin, and placed Bar-
ber, the printer, in the highway to fortune; was
eminently useful to Dr. Freind, and provided for
Parnell and Harrison: "I took Parnell this morn-
ing" (Jan. 25, 1712-13), "and we walked to see
poor Harrison.
I had the hundred pounds in my
pocket. I told Parnell I was afraid to knock at the
door, my mind misgave me. I did knock, and his
man in tears told me his master was dead an hour
before. Think what grief this is to me! I could
not dine with lord-treasurer nor anywhere else;
but got a bit of meat towards the evening. No loss
ever grieved me so much; poor creature! Pray God
Almighty bless you! Adieu! I send this away to-
night, and I am sorry it must go while I am in so
much grief."
It was now felt that the services which Swift had
rendered the ministry had fully entitled him to some
honourable provision. Lord Bolingbroke is said to
have exerted his influence to the utmost, though
Swift appears to have had no great confidence in
him; and his friend the lord-treasurer certainly
omitted no opportunity of attempting to induce the
queen to give him preferment in England. But the
influence of the duchess of Somerset, who had car-
ried to the queen Swift's poem called the "Windsor
Prophecy," created formidable difficulties; and it
soon appeared that the first minister had not that
necessary command and confidence which it is so
indispensable at court for a leader of the adminis-
tration to possess. Upon an impartial examination
of all the circumstances it would be unjust to con-
clude that the ministry were insincere, as it has been
generally asserted, and, while taxing his genius and
exertions to the utmost, never intended to advance
him.
There is reason to suppose, on the other
hand, that they obtained for him the best provision
they were enabled; and though Swift affected to be
wholly regardless of the results, it is not difficult to
perceive, especially when the ministry began to
totter, that he was not so much divested of anxiety
as he wished the world to believe. We must not,
however, anticipate.
The list of tracts composed by Swift in support
of lord Oxford (as may be seen in the text) is in it-
self a formidable one, and shows with how much
zeal and resolution as well as wit he devoted himself
to what appeared a lost cause, and brought it
triumphant at last through all perils and disasters.
In the year 1712 he published his "Reflections on
the Barrier Treaty," proving how little the interests
of England had been consulted in that negotiation,
and how much had been unduly conceded to the
Dutch. It was shortly followed by his "Remarks
on the Bishop of Sarum's Introduction to the Third
Volume of the History of the Reformation." We
may form some idea of the effect which these writings
must have produced at a period of so much excite-
ment, when we consider their popularity at the pre-
sent day, though we feel so little interested in the
events which gave rise to them. Their intrinsic wit
and merit redeem them from the general fate of po-
litical disquisitions; they appear to be written for
"He
"all time,” not to serve the mere passing purpose
of the hour; such are the powerful truths, such the
immensity of genius which they display.
seems to have had the same advantage over his an-
tagonists," says Sheridan, "as Homer has given to
Achilles, by clothing him in celestial armour, and
furnishing him with weapons of celestial temper."
The first step adopted by lord Oxford to regain
the queen's confidence and carry out the measures
necessary to the existence of the Tory ministry was
to restore the majority in the house of lords, and
this could only be effected by engaging her majesty
to create twelve new peers. This is an expedient to
be resorted to only in cases of extreme peril or ne-
cessity; and the peculiar juncture in the ministerial
affairs certainly required it. Swift, when recurring
to this point some time afterwards, observes, “Yet,
after all, it is a strange unhappy necessity of making
so many peers together; but the queen has drawn it
upon herself by her trimming and moderation." It
naturally excited the loud clamour of the adverse
party, who attempted to excite the people to violence
by every means in their power, appealing to their
worst passions, and with that singular ingenuity for
which a discomfited party, long in the enjoyment of
place, is always celebrated, attempting to convince
the public that continual war, debt, and taxes are
the natural inheritance of every free and great people.
"The adverse party," says Swift (in his "History
of the Peace"), "being thus driven down by open
force, had nothing left but to complain (which they
loudly did) that it was a pernicious example, set for
ill princes to follow, who, by the same rule, might
make at any time a hundred as well as twelve; and
by these means become masters of the house of
lords whenever they pleased, which would be dan-
gerous to our liberties."
But, serious as it was, this measure lost its im-
portance in the nation's eyes, when followed by
another of far greater boldness and decision, to
which few men believed lord Oxford equal, after
the trimming and doubtful policy he had pursued,
with his singular hesitation and delay in openly
breaking with the Whigs. This was no less than the
dismissal of the duke of Marlborough from all his
offices, and the removal of the last of the Whigs from
power, who had yet been retained in the vain ex-
pectation of conciliating the heads of that powerful
body. Prince Eugene had hastened to the succour
of the war party upon hearing that further supplies
were likely to be cut off; all the envoys were equally
busied, in the fear that, like Othello's, their occupa-
tion would be gone, if the sinews of war, supplied by
English gold and bravery, were once denied, and the
nation enlightened as to the real state of the case.
The Whigs, making their idol of prince Eugene,
were enraged at the temerity of the Tories in daring
to dismiss the great Marlborough, in whom the fate
of the war, the debt, and the new moneyed interest—
by which a few needy and grasping contractors, pen-
sioners, commissioners, and their connexions of all
professions, lived in state at the charge of a distressed
and impoverished people-all hung in the balance;
and took every possible advantage of the presence
of prince Eugene, whose fame was the theme of
every public meeting, and who, in his generous de-
sire to secure the continued aid of such good allies,
magnanimously declared he would carry on the war
at his own expense. He was strongly seconded by
the Somersets and the Whig interest at court, which
bore an implacable hatred against Swift, and left no
means untried to prevent his promotion in the
church. The duchess even applied to the archbishop
of York to join her in resisting Oxford's application
xl
LIFE AND WORKS OF
to raise him to the prelacy, and he is said to have
made use of the remarkable expression, "that her
majesty should be sure that the man whom she was
going to make a bishop was a christian." When
pressed for his reasons, however, all his objections
resolved themselves into the general impression that
Swift was supposed to be the author of the "Tale of
a Tub," than which there exists not a more able and
powerful defence of the church of England; and this
being known to all just discriminators of the tenor
of his arguments and rich stores of wit, this busy
prelate was considered as acting too officiously
from other motives than honest zeal, and his inter-
ference in itself would have proved no serious bar.
The duchess, driven almost to despair, ran into the
queen's presence, and, throwing herself upon her
knces, besought with tears in her eyes that she
would never permit Swift to be made a bishop; ex-
hibiting at the same time those keen and bitter
verses launched against her in the "Windsor Pro-
phecy." The queen, naturally good-natured and
compassionate, was stung with resentment at the
freedom thus taken with one of her special favourites;
and having previously imbibed other prejudices
against him, she took a malignant pleasure in pass-
ing by Swift and showing her independence of her
minister by bestowing the vacant see upon another.
It could not long remain a secret that Swift had
incurred the queen's displeasure, and his enemies
renewed their attacks with redoubled vigour. Not
only was the whole weight of the court interest di-
rected against him, but those who had delighted in
his social wit and other estimable qualities, thinking
him a marked man, held aloof from him. But
Swift's mighty genius and powers, in themselves a
host, laughed to scorn the efforts to injure him of his
proudest and most malignant enemies. In vain did
the confederacy to cry him down spread from the
court to both houses of parliament. In the former,
the carl of Nottingham-still smarting doubtless un-
der the "Hue and Cry made after Dismal," in which
celebrated ballad, unfortunately now lost to the pub-
lic, Swift had humorously described that noble-
man's secession from the Torics, stealing out of the
ministerial ranks without hint or notice, with his ad-
herents, at the most critical moment-commenced
the attack in a strain of feeble commonplace; and
in the lower house Walpole joined in the tirade, fol-
lowed by a Mr. Aislabie, who had before professed
the greatest friendship for the doctor. All these
outbreaks of envious and injurious malice from men
crossed perhaps in their particular designs, or
thrown into the shade by the bold uncompromising
genius of him who spoke of public men and their
conduct with unflinching truth and spirit, proved as
harmless as the foolish proclamation issued at the
instigation of the Scotch lords, who gave to Swift's
satire a tenfold keener point by solemnly proceed-
ing in a body to complain of the wounds inflicted
upon their national honour. The dealer of these
unceremonious hits, instead of taking alarm at the
attacks followed up in both houses, stood boldly
upon his defence, and must secretly have been not
a little amused at this dreadful display of legislative
vigour, against the humble vicar of a small living in
Ireland, for his manifold plots and conspiracies to
undermine the church and state.a
From the tenor of Swift's Journal about this
period it would seem he was becoming rather im-
patient at the supposed delay or neglect of his
" Swift's real offence consisted in his satire upon the duchess :
"Now angry Somerset her vengeance vows
On Swift's reproaches for her
From her red locks her mouth with vonom fills,
And thence into the royal ear distils," &c.
spouse:
|
friends the ministers, in leaving him so long without
some preferment becoming his character and reputa-
tion, and which might give greater weight and in-
fluence to his sphere of active and useful exertion.
He had for some time refused to solicit or remind
ministers of their avowed intentions; and he appears
to have imputed the delay in a great measure to the
dilatory habits of lord Oxford. Upon his prospects
of success he expresses himself very cautiously in
his correspondence, though it is clear that he had
made up his mind to return to his willows, as he
expresses it, if something were not speedily done for
him: "It is the last sally I shall ever make,” he
says, (16th Jan. 1710-11,) "but I hope it will turn
to some account. I have done more for these, and I
think they are more honest than the last; however,
I will not be disappointed. I would make MD
and me easy, and I never desired more." Again, he
says, "My new friends are very kind, and I have
promises enough, but I do not count upon them;"
and he adds, (May 22, 1711,) "To return without
some mark of distinction would look extremely
little, and I would likewise be gladly somewhat
richer than I am." In the course of a few months,
it would also appear, from a passage, (July 1st, 1711,)
that his friends in Ireland had become impatient,
and were fearful of his returning without some pro-
per preferment, when he would be considered in the
light of an ill-used man-an observation which led
Swift to take up the ministers' defence, and to de-
clare, "I had no offers of any living. Lord-keeper
told me some months ago he would give me one
when I pleased; but I told him I would not take
any from him, and the secretary told me the other
day he had refused a very good one for me, but it
was in a place he did not like; and I know nothing
of getting anything here, and if they would give me
leave I would come over just now."
From other passages, however, it is clear that such
was not his intention, except in the case of complete
failure, when he had resolved to abandon and cast
off the ministry, as he proudly termed it, the moment
he thought he was unjustly treated. The warrants
for three vacant deanerics having been filled up by
the queen without his name, he informed the lord-
treasurer he had determined to set out for Ireland;
an intimation probably which induced the latter to
stop them; and after considerable delay and the
expression of much captious jealousy on Swift's side,
who grew exceedingly irritated and excited towards
the close of the business, a warrant for creating him
dean of St. Patrick's was signed on the 23rd of
April, 1713, and in the beginning of June he set
out for Ireland. His intention was to remain there
some time, but he had scarcely gone through the
necessary forms, and recovered from an illness
which had confined him to his living in the country,
when, fresh divisions having broken out in the cabi-
net, he was prevailed upon to return to England.
It was with difficulty he succeeded in obtaining a
temporary cessation of hostilities between the Tory
leaders, become more frequent and inveterate since
+
He was
a The value of the deanery was estimated at above 7001. a
year, much more than Swift affected to think it was.
never, during his residence in England, introduced to queen
Anne, though he expected it, owing to the misrepresentations of
his principles made by his enemies at court. The lord-trea-
surer, who was accused by Bolingbroke of neglecting the doc-
tor's interests, was more to be pitied than blamed, as he was
naturally unwilling to confess how little the queen's prejudice
left it in his power to serve Swift, while he wished to retain his
friendship and his services. It was some time before Swift
was aware of the real state of the case; he then became im.
patient and indignant, feared that his enemies would wholly bar
his promotion, and insisted in no measured terms upon the
premier doing as much as he could for him without waiting to
secure preferment for him in England.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xli
the peace and a feeling of greater security. That
peace having been again attacked, Swift defended it
manfully, devoting himself to the completion of his
history, and resuming his valuable inquiries into the
affairs of Ireland, where the madness of party, added
to the sufferings of the people, had recently led to
acts of
open violence. Having invited the attention |
of ministers to the subject, placed in their hands the
"History of the Peace of Utrecht," as the strongest
barrier he could raise for their defence, and exhorted
them, as they valued the interests of the country and
their own characters, to endeavour to act with some
degree of concert, he became anxious to attend to
his newly-acquired interests in Ireland. Scarcely,
however, had he entered upon the affairs of his
deanery, when, to use his own expression, a hun-
dred letters came in pursuit of him to recall him
with all speed; for no sooner, it appears, had he
turned his back, than Oxford and Bolingbroke had
come to an open rupture. He was exceedingly
annoyed at being thus interrupted before he could
regulate the discipline of his own deanery; and in a
letter dated from Ireland to the archbishop of Dub-
lin he states that he should do all in his power to
save the trouble of such a journey, which neither his
fortune nor his health would very well permit.
Upon this occasion, having contrived to meet them
together at lord Masham's, he expostulated with them
more freely than he had before done; but, to his
equal surprise and concern, he found there existed
an increased degree of coldness and aversion
amounting almost to antipathy. At last he pre-
vailed upon them to go to Windsor together the
next day, pleading some appointment to avoid
attending them, but taking care to follow to watch
the result of his good counsel. It was, as he feared,
wholly thrown away upon them: he had only one
other meeting with them, and, finding any reconcilia-
tion wholly impracticable, he told them that, as he
was a common friend to both, he would not take
part with either of them, but wished to withdraw
from the scene: he foresaw their disunion would be
fatal to the general interest, and he was determined to
have no more concern with public affairs. In seve-
ral passages of his letters he seems to hint that, had
others done their duty as zealously as he had him-
self endeavoured, the breach might have been made
up. "I only wish," he says to his friend Pope, "that
my endeavours had succeeded better in the great
point I had at heart, which was that of reconciling
ministers to each other. If this had succeeded,
the public interest both of church and state would
not have been the worse, nor the protestant succes-
sion endangered." His own expressive lines
His own expressive lines upon
this subject show what his feelings were when he
said that all hope was lost:—
•
•
•
By faction tired, with grief he waits awhile
His great contending friends to reconcile;
Performs what friendship, justice, truth require;
What could he more but decently retire?"
Swift had been anxious for preferment in England
to be near his friends and literary connexions, to
enjoy the society of those whom he admired and
loved; and to avoid the sight of the sufferings in-
flicted upon the unfortunate people of Ireland, which
he declared made his blood boil and his flesh creep
-a view of government and society which doubtless
led to his singular production of a proposal for the
Irish to eat their own children. But had his wishes,
and the exertions made by his friend Oxford to re-
tain him in England, been crowned with success,
Ireland might still have sighed for a liberator and a
benefactor; and all that she has since achieved by
other leaders, his mere disciples and imitators, would
VOL. I.
still have been a work not yet performed. Pro-
vidence, however, as if in compassion to a subdued
and unhappy people, who had exhausted all the
horrors of military conquest, and the worse infliction
of a government and a church essentially opposed to
its political and religious independence, raised up the
mighty genius and irresistible arm of Swift to avenge
and to vindicate the rights of an oppressed and in-
sulted nation.
It is evident, from his letters to his different friends
and from his own recorded observations at this period,
that Swift looked forward to the speedy dissolution
of the Tory ministry. As his services might be sud-
denlycalled for in some emergency, he was unwilling
to make a new voyage from Dublin to London every
month to compose the differences of the ministry, and
wisely determined to stop a short time and watch
the progress of events. He returned to the house
of his friend Mr. Geary, at Letcomb,a where his
active mind not permitting him a moment's rest,
after transmitting his directions to his Irish agent,
he sat down to compose his tract called
"Some
Free Thoughts upon the Present State of Affairs;"
in which he charges the ministers as the cause of
the reigning disorders, and lays the greatest blame
upon the one whom he most loved and admired,
lord Oxford. It is quite evident that he believed
both lord Oxford and lord Bolingbroke to be more
sedulously engaged in advancing their own designs
than in promoting the interests of the public; and
his motives were doubtless to excite their fears by
the hints thrown out, that, instead of either triumph-
ing over the other, they would probably both be de-
serted as well by their own party as by the queen.
"It may be matter," he says, "of no little admi-
ration to consider in some lights the state of affairs
among us for four years past. The queen, finding
herself and the majority of her kingdom grown
weary of the avarice and the insolence, the mistaken
politics and destructive principles of her former mi-
nisters, calls to the service of the public another set
of men, who by confession of their enemies had
equal abilities at least with their predecessors, whose
interest made it necessary for them to act upon those
maxims which were most agreeable to the consti-
tution in church and state; whose birth and patri-
monies gave them weight in the nation, and who
(I speak of those who came to have the chief part
in affairs) had long lived under the strictest bonds
of friendship."
In a
The old controversy with Steele was now renewed
with the bitterest animosity on both sides.
number of the "Guardian" (128) Steele charged the
ministry with negligence in executing that stipu-
lation of the treaty of Utrecht relating to the demo-
lition of Dunkirk; and when on the point of being
elected a member of parliament for Stockbridge he
renewed his attack in a pamphlet―" The Import-
ance of Dunkirk Considered," which produced some
noise; and in the absence of Swift, with other tracts
on the Whig side, was beginning to produce an im-
pression by no means favourable to the stability of
the Tory ministry. It was probably upon this
ground that Swift's presence and services were
again required, as much as to heal the divisions in
■ Some enemy of Swift composed a mock diary in the dean s
manner, printed in one of the Grub street tracts, on the occasion
of his disappearance from the deanery, which gave rise to great
dismay among the friends of the administration, and triumph
to their foes.-See Swift's letter to the second earl of Oxford
(1737), with an account of this transaction and his efforts as
mediator.
See also the copy of verses by Smedley, fixed on the door of
St. Patrick's on the day of Swift's instalment, inferior only to
his own in point of wit and humour.
a
xlii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
him still with a stern countenance, and aiming a
blow at his adversaries.”
Within a few weeks after the death of the queen
Swift returned to his deanery in Ireland, where he
continued to reside several years without once visit-
ing England. It was there, in the year 1717, he
became completely reconciled to Addison, and main-
tained a constant correspondence with distinguished
individuals of both parties; and it appears from one
of his letters to Pope (as early as January, 1710)
how much he had pressed lord Oxford in favour of
Addison, Rowe, Congreve, and Steele: he also gives
his elegant answer to lord Halifax when he asked the
earl on the first change of ministry to spare Con-
greve; acts which must have been a source of de-
lightful reflection to him after having quitted the
busy scene of politics. He says also, in a letter to
lady Betty Germaine, "When I had credit for some
years at court I provided for above fifty people in
both kingdoms, of which not one was a relation
and he more than once observes that lord Oxford
never once refused him any request of that sort. The
extent of his public and private charities while in
England was very great, of which we may form some
idea from the number of addresses from persons
little known to him, or with whom he was wholly
unacquainted. He procured the rectory of St. An-
drew, Holborn, for Sacheverell, though he held him
in such light estimation that he refused to see him;
moved only by a principle of justice for his having
rendered assistance to the ministry and been ne-
glected by them.
the ministry; and the expectations of its leaders
were not disappointed. Swift took up their quarrel
with all the spirit of his former partisanship, eager
also to inflict what he considered just retributive
punishment for Steele's continued insolence and in-
gratitude. Both were in the highest degree angry
and excited; and it is humiliating to read the low
and despicable shifts, the petty malice, and the per-
sonal animosity which this public controversy pro-
duced. In "The Importance of the Guardian Con-
sidered" he reflected on the person, morals, and
abilities of his early friend, holding up his portrait
to the laughter and ridicule of the world; he ex-
poses his pretensions to rank as a statesman, and his
meanness as an original writer, as the appropriator
of others' productions, to give him character, in the
Tatlers and Spectators, and the occasional author of
a wretched Guardian; following up his career as a
soldier, alchemist, gazetteer, commissioner of stamped
papers, and gentleman-usher. In another, entitled
the "Character of Richard Steele, Esq., with some
Remarks by Toby Abel's Kinsman" (1713), which
bears evidence of Swift's hand, though generally
ascribed to Dr. Wagstaffe, the reflections are so
ludicrous, as well as severe, that Steele is said to
have been more affected by it than by any previous
publication of the kind, and to have ascribed it to
Swift, or to his active instigation :-" I think I know
the author of this; and to show him I know no re-
venge but in the method of heaping coal on his
head by benefits, I forbear giving him what he de-
serves, for no other reason but that I know his sen-
sibility of reproach is such as that he would be un-
able to bear life itself under half the ill language
that he has given me." ("Englishman," No. 57.)
It may indeed be remarked, as a singular fact, that
Swift himself alludes to the sensitiveness of his dis-
position in this respect, and that it was a peculiarity
of his earlier character. "I was originally," he
says, as unwilling to be libelled as the nicest man
can be; but having been used to such treatment ever
since I unhappily began to be known, I am now
grown hardened." (Letter to Dr. Irving, June 8,
1732.) Not content with this, he attacked Steele in
a most ludicrous paraphrase of the first ode of the
second book of Horace, said to be wholly his own
composition. Steele, with the assistance of Addison,
Hoadly, Lechmere, and Marshall, in preparing the
"Crisis," intended to excite the public upon the
subject of the protestant succession, and the too
great influence of France. It was brought out with
It was brought out with
much éclat, with the view, it was said, of benefiting
the reputed author in his necessities by crying it up
with the public-an advantage of which Swift, who
seems in this controversy to have thrown off his
usual restraint or regard for Addison and his friend,
did not fail to avail himself in his caustic and bitter
comments in the "Public Spirit of the Whigs.”
<<
But neither this controversy nor his strictures upon
the conduct of ministers in his "Free Thoughts"
had time to produce much effect before the some-
what sudden death of the queen carried dismay into
the Tory camp, dispersed the best-conceived schemes
to the winds, and made a complete revolution in
public affairs.
It was a terrific blow to the Tory
party throughout the country; cut short the dean's
prospects and ruined his hopes of ever receiving
preferment and residing among his old acquaintance
in England. Dr. Arbuthnot, in a letter addressed
to his friend Pope, gives an interesting account of
the impression produced upon Swift by this import-
ant event. "I have seen a letter from dean Swift,"
he observes: "he keeps up his noble spirit, and
though like a man knocked down, you may behold
Swift's return to Ireland, under circumstances so
unexpected, anticipating the speedy downfall of
the party he most approved and the friends he
best loved, must have been attended with many un-
easy reflections. The spirit of faction ran high; re-
ports the most injurious of the ministry's design to
bring in the pretender, and the epithets of Tory and
Jacobite, were spread on all sides. Swift, from the
conspicuous part he had played, became a marked
man, and though he studiously withdrew from all
participation in political matters, he was recognised
and insulted in the streets of Dublin by the mob,
while the higher classes sought the favour of the
court by treating him with studied neglect and con-
tumely. He was compelled, in order to protect
himself from outrage, to draw up a petition to the
house of lords, especially against the brutal and dan-
gerous attacks of lord Blaney. The exercise of
riding was essential to his health, always variable;
but in other respects he lived perfectly retired, de-
voting himself to the duties of his station and the
arrangement of his domestic affairs,
The
Subsequently, upon the breaking up of the Tory
administration, Swift's feelings and conduct upon
the occasion are described in a letter, addressed most
probably to the archbishop of Dublin's proctor or
agent (July 29, 1714), in which he says, "I have
been these two months fifty miles from London, to
avoid the storm that has happened at court.
news will tell you a post or two before this of my
lord Oxford's laying down office: he was to do it
yesterday. He has sent to desire I would stay with
him at his house in Herefordshire, which I am not
likely to refuse, though I may probably suffer a good
deal in my little affairs in Ireland by my absence.
This makes it necessary for me to desire you would
please to renew my licence of absence, which ex-
pires about the end of August, when this incident
changed it. I think it is about this time four years
that you came to my lodging with Mr. Pratt to tell
me the news of lord Godolphin's going out, which
was as joyful to me as this is otherwise. I believe
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xliii
you will reckon me an ill courtier to follow a dis-
carded statesman to his retirement, especially when
I have been always as well with those now in power
as I was with him. But to answer that would require
talking, and I have already troubled you so much.
"I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant,
"JONATHAN SWIFT.
"Pray let the absence be general as before. I
was very near wanting it some months ago with a
vengeance. [Perhaps for the Public Spirit of the
Whigs.'] I know not what alterations this change
may make in the scheme for Irish promotions: I hear
Drs. Pratt and Ellwood are secure.
This letter does infinite honour to the heart and
feelings of the man, in whom affection and gratitude
absorbed every thought of the tempting offers to his
ambition and pride.
It would seem that the subsequent renewal of a
strictly friendly and social intercourse between
Swift and Addison took place about 1717, upon the
The regard
latter coming as secretary into Ireland.
with which Swift now treated him shows how happy
he was in the opportunity afforded of their meeting
once more without the fatal influence of party throw-
ing a damp upon their mutual regard.
"I should be much concerned," he says,
"if I
did not think you were a little angry with me for
not congratulating you upon being secretary. But
I choose my time, as I would to visit you, when all
your company is gone. I am confident you have
given ease of mind to many thousand people who
will never believe that any ill can be intended to
the constitution, to the church or state, while you are
in so high a trust, and I should have been of the
same opinion though I had not the happiness to
know you. I am extremely obliged for your kind
remembrance some months ago by the bishop of
Derry, and for your generous intentions, if you had
come to Ireland, to have made party to give way to
friendship by continuing your acquaintance. I exa-
mine my heart, and can find no other reason why
I write to you now beside that great love and esteem
I have always had for you. I have nothing to ask
you either for any friend or for myself. When I
conversed among ministers I boasted of your ac-
quaintance; but I feel no vanity from being known
to a secretary of state. I am only a little concerned
to see you stand single: for it is a prodigious sin-
gularity in any court to owe one's rise entirely to
merit. I will venture to tell you a secret,—that three
or four more such choices would gain more hearts in
three weeks than all the methods hitherto practised
have been able to do in as many years.
"It is now time for me to recollect that I am writ-
ing to a secretary of state, who has little time allow-
ed him for trifles; I therefore take my leave with
assurances of my being ever, with the truest respect,
sir, your most obedient and most humble servant,
"JONATHAN SWIFT."
Other evidences are not wanting of the friendly
disposition felt by Swift towards his early and be-
loved connexions, of whatever party, and in his
correspondence with Pope, Arbuthnot, and Gay, are
some passages of exquisite pathos and beauty, ex-
pressing his sorrow, especially as he became aware
of the more frequent inroads of disease. In one of
his letters to Pope (Jan. 10, 1721) he alludes to the
retired habits and mode of life he had so prudently
adopted during the re-action of popular opinion and
the triumph of the Whigs, which rendered it danger-
ous for the dean to appear in public without being
protected, so great was the excitement produced by
the violent conduct, impeachments, and prosecutions
of the new ministry. "In a few weeks," he says,
"after the loss of that excellent princess, I came to
my station here, where I have continued ever since
in the greatest privacy and utter ignorance of those
events which are most commonly talked of in the
I know neither the names nor the number
world.
of the family which now reigneth, further than the
I cannot tell who is
prayer-book informeth me.
chancellor, who are secretaries, nor with what
nations we are at peace or war.
And this mannre
of life was not taken up out of any sort of affectation,
but merely to avoid giving offence and for fear of
provoking party zeal." It is clear from the fore-
going and other passages that, though Swift wisely
resigned himself to circumstances not to be avoided,
he felt keenly the marked contrast between his pre-
sent mode of life and that in which he exercised the
intellectual power and ascendancy he so strongly
coveted. His gloom and disappointment break out
in spite of himself, while he affects to hold politics
and princes in utter forgetfulness. "I say nothing"
("Dedication to History") "of his present Britannic
•
•
majesty, to whose person and character I am an utter
stranger, and likely to continue so. I might have
avoided some years' uneasiness and vexation during
the last four years of our excellent queen, as well as
a long melancholy prospect since, in a most obscure
disagreeable country and among a most profligate
and abandoned people.
Upon her majesty's
lamented death I returned to my station in this
kingdom; since which time there is not a northern
curate among you who has lived more obscure than
myself, or a greater stranger to the transactions of
the world. In the frank unreserved communica-
tion with his friends in England about this period,
Swift supplies us with the most interesting details.
respecting his residence in Ireland, which he always
regarded as an honourable exile, the result of neces-
sity and not of choice. He draws the portrait of an
unhappy and discarded statesman rather than of a
dean of the English church, who had recently re-
ceived promotion, satisfied with his lot, and indulg-
ing hopes of further preferment; and this spirit of
querulous disappointment, injurious alike to his
health and happiness, till he once more plunged into
the sea of controversy, is shown without disguise in
one of his letters to Gay :-"I would describe to
you my way of living, if any method could be called
so in this country. I choose my companions among
those of least consequence and most compliance.
I read the most trifling books I can find, and when
riding, sleeping, walking, take up eighteen of the
I write it is upon the most trifling subjects; but
twenty-four hours. I procrastinate more than I did
twenty years ago, and have several things to finish
which I put off to twenty years hence." It was
probably with a view to relax from his former severe
exertions, and to diminish the force of that inveterate
disease which pursued him through life, that Swift
now gave up so much of his time to what he termed
the bagatelle, courting only those acquaintance who,
instead of competing with or thwarting him, felt
gratified in his society and treated him with defer-
ence and respect. Among the most agreeable of
these were sir Arthur and lady Acheson; and during
the dean's residence at their seat, Market-hill, it is
observed by Scott that he produced some of the
most marked specimens of his very peculiar poetical
vein. "The inimitable poem entitled The Grand
Question Debated' is a proof of the same brilliant
humour and happy power of assuming and sustain-
ing a feigned character which distinguished Mrs.
Frances Harris's Petition,' and other effusions of the
author's carlier days; and which at length was too
d 2
xliv
LIFE AND WORKS OF
apt to be lost in the trifling and punning intercourse
which he maintained in old age with Sheridan and
other friends.'
""
He enjoyed moreover the almost constant society
of his favourite pupil, and now more mature friend,
Stella, of Dr. Sheridan, Dr. Delany, and a select few
both of humbler and higher rank; and in the dis-
charge of his clerical duties, in conducting the affairs
of his deanery, presiding at occasional dinners, and
dispensing charities, seemed to have forgotten there
existed a political world in which he had borne so
conspicuous a part, when tidings which roused some
of his former spirit and all his affection for England,
recalled him to a recollection of the part he had
played. This was no less than an account of the
committal of his friend lord Oxford, to whom he had
already shown the most devoted attachment, to the
Tower, at the instigation of his most active enemies.
As Swift had before followed his fortunes into re-
treat, and refused to participate in the expected ac-
cession of lord Bolingbroke to the premiership, so
he now wrote to him in the most urgent terms to
beg that he would allow him to share his captivity.
The tenor of his letter is that of a grateful and at-
tached follower, who, with the delicacy of a sensitive
and noble mind, humbles himself and expresses in-
creased respect and attention upon witnessing the
fallen fortunes of a beloved friend. "My lord," he
says, "it may look like an idle or officious thing in
me to give your lordship any interruption under your
present circumstances; yet I could never forgive my-
self if, after having been treated for several years
with the greatest kindness and distinction by a per-
son of your lordship's virtue, I should omit making
you at this time the humblest offers of my poor ser-
vices and attendance. It is the first time I ever so-
licited you on my own behalf; and if I am refused it
will be the first request you ever refused me.'
Of the sincerity of Swift, and the high estimation
in which he held the character of lord Oxford, there
can be no doubt; and in a short paper called "Great
Figures made by several Persons in particular Ac-
tions or Circumstances of their Lives," we find among
examples drawn from antiquity the mention of Robert
Harley at his trial. After the death of queen Anne
the Whigs, bent upon proceeding to extremities, de-
clared the peace of Utrecht contrary to the interests
of Britain, and the managers in it were impeached.
Lord Oxford, after an imprisonment of two years,
was tried for high treason, when, a difference arising
between the lords and commons, the latter, out of
pique, failed to support the impeachment, and Ox-
ford, greatly to the mortification of the Whig leaders,
was unanimously acquitted. But Bolingbroke, during
the negotiation of the peace of Utrecht, was charged
with treasonable intimacy with the French ministers,
a suspicion which was strengthened by his supposed
intimacy with Madame Tencin. Though the fallen
minister was disinterested enough to refuse to take
advantage of Swift's generous proposal, he lost no
time after his acquittal in replying to his friend in a
letter expressive of the utmost regard and affection;
and during the whole period of his first residence in
Ireland he continued to receive the same assurances
of undiminished respect from his political and literary
friends, to which we owe some of the most interest-
ing portions of his works-the correspondence.
Another source of uneasiness to Swift was the re-
peated contentions he had to encounter with his
chapter and the prelacy of the Irish church. The
archbishop of Dublin, who had never regarded him
with a friendly eye, continued a vexatious opposition;
and Dr. Sterne, the man who was indebted to him
for his promotion, tried to thwart him in all his ar-
rangements; but the dean was not one to raise ques-
tions without knowledge, or to sacrifice the least
particle of his rights: he administered them with a
firm hand, and finally quashed the vexatious proceed-
ings of his predecessor and others, and restored dis-
cipline and obedience among the officers of his chap-
ter. He had no sooner however surmounted his
difficulties here, than others of a more delicate and
complicated nature met him in the unfortunate at-
tachment which Miss Vanhomrigh, a young person of
great personal attractions and accomplishments, had
conceived for him when he visited her family in Eng-
land. It seems to have taken its rise very much in
the same manner as that of Miss Johnson, the un-
fortunate Stella, from strong admiration of Swift's
brilliant talents and powers of pleasing, and from too
frequent intercourse in the relative characters of tutor
and pupil. From Swift's own letters it would ap-
pear also that the attachment, in whatever way so
unhappily formed, was in some degree mutual. His
poem of "Cadenus and Vanessa," a fanciful appella-
tion formed out of Esther Vanhomrigh, gives suffici-
ent though mysterious hints to countenance the same
supposition, and its existence doubtless tended to
embarrass his return and embitter his residence, with
regard to his familiar friendship for Stella, in Ireland.
In a letter addressed to the former (8th July, 1713),
he seems to deplore the necessity which removed
him from England: "I staid," he says, "but a fort-
night in Dublin, very sick, and returned not one visit
of a hundred that were made me; but all to the dean
and none to the doctor. I am riding here for life;
and I think I am something better. I hate the
thoughts of Dublin, and prefer a field-bed and an
earthen floor before the great house there which they
say is mine. At my first coming I thought I should
have died with discontent, and was horribly melan-
choly while they were installing me, but it begins to
wear off and change to dulness."
It would appear from Swift's letters as well as oc-
casional passages in the "Journal to Stella," that he
had found other occasions, wholly independent of
politics, to prove his fidelity and devotion to the
friends he had left in England. When the duke of
Hamilton fell in a fatal duel with lord Bohun, he
showed the most compassionate kindness and atten-
tion to his friend the duchess, and when other relief
was of no avail he uniformly administered the con-
solations of religion; while his charities in every re-
spect were as well directed as they were extensive.
In the instance of Guiscard's nefarious attempt to
assassinate Harley, and the subsequent efforts made
to injure his character by insinuating suspicions of
his treasonable correspondence with France,
and
more than all in his becoming the instrument of
saving him from another premeditated assassination,
Swift invariably showed the warmest sympathy and
most tender alarm for the sufferings and danger of his
friend. He seems always to have been on the watch;
and one day while he was with Harley, then lord-
treasurer, a packet was brought in which by its ex-
terior appearance excited the doctor's suspicions.
He begged to be permitted to open it, which he did
with great precaution, and discovered three pistols
cocked and charged, with a string attached to dis-
charge them according to another account they
were barrels of large ink-horns, filled with powder
that was by some process to be ignited. However
this was, Swift considered the danger real, and that
he had really saved the life of the lord-treasurer;
though the Whigs were wicked enough to turn the
whole affair into ridicule, and to write ballads and
lampoons upon it, under the title of the band-box
plot, and even scrupled not to insinuate that the
JONATHAN SWIFT.
XIV
doctor was himself the author of the terrific plot, to
raise his importance in the lord-treasurer's and in
the nation's eyes.
But Swift as stoutly maintained
that his own life was actually in danger not less than
that of the minister; and after the nearly fatal ex-
perience they had had in the case of Guiscard, and
in the inveterate hatred and violence of the Whigs,
Swift was perfectly justified in attaching to it the
importance which he did. Swift is stated by Scott to
have been trusted by Oxford in his private as well
as public affairs. He was supposed to have assisted
in the negotiations which preceded the alliance be-
tween the lord-treasurer's eldest son and the only
child of the duke of Newcastle, and in the arrange-
ments which followed for the division of the duke's
inheritance betwixt her and lord Pelham, the male
heir. This was a point which Oxford had so greatly
at heart, that Bolingbroke afterwards termed it the
ultimate end of his administration. Swift, upon this
joyful occasion, wrote the poetical "Address to Lord
Harley on his Marriage." But his sympathising
friendship is still more deeply manifested in his letter
to the lord-treasurer on the death of his daughter, the
marchioness Caermarthen, than which there is no-
thing in the English language more beautifully and
feelingly expressed. And the constancy of his at-
tachment at the most distressing period of Oxford's
life was such as well made good the manly expres-
sions of regard with which, on retiring from London,
he bade his lordship farewell :-"When I was with
you I have said more than once that I would never
allow quality or station made any real difference
between men. Being now absent and forgotten, I
have changed my mind; you have a thousand people
who can pretend they love you, with as much ap-
pearance of sincerity as I; so that, according to com-
mon justice, I can have but a thousandth part in re-
turn of what I give, and this difference is wholly
owing to your station. And the misfortune is still
the greater because I loved you so much the less for
your station, for in your public capacity you have
often angered me, but as a private man never.”—
(Scott's "Memoirs," &c.)
In the formation of the philanthropical society of
brothers, which afterwards gave rise to the more
celebrated Scriblerus' Club, Swift's object was still
to promote the benefit of others, by uniting the
powerful and wealthy in a bond of affectionate love,
for the protection of the unfortunate; or the witty
and accomplished, by combining to diffuse sound
principles of taste and composition. Of the latter,
Oxford and St. John, Swift, Arbuthnot, Pope, and
Gay, were the members. "It was," says Scott, "the
well-known object of their united powers to compose
a satire upon the abuse of human learning. Part of
their labours has been preserved in the Memoirs of
Martinus Scriblerus,' which gave name to the so-
ciety; and part has been rendered immortal by the
Travels of Lemuel Gulliver:' but the violence of
political faction, like a storm that spares the laurel
no more than the cedar, dispersed this little band of
literary brethren, and prevented the accomplishment
of a task for which talents so various, so extended,
and brilliant, can never again be united."-(Scott's
"Memoirs," &c.) During Swift's last attempts to re-
"The following notice of Swift" (observes Scott)" occurs in
a poem on the late 'Examiner,' which appeared about this
time:
´´´ ○ Jonathan of merry fame,
As Swift in fancy as in name,-
Here lie, as thou hast often done,
Thy holy mother's pious son;
Deprived of paper, pen, and ink,
And, what is worse, deprived of drink :
For lo, thy idol ox, thy staff and rod,
As thou wouldst say, are dropp'd by God.”
concile the great Tory leaders, he prepared for press
two additional tracts" Memoirs relating to the
Change which happened in the Queen's Ministry in
1710;" and "An Inquiry into the Behaviour of the
last Ministry, with relation to their Quarrels between
themselves, and the Design charged upon them of
altering the Succession of the Crown." His object
was to vindicate the conduct of the Tory ministers
and their party, and to rebut the serious charges
brought against them by the Whig writers; and he
especially ridiculed the popular bugbear of an in-
tention to bring in the pretender. They were also
drawn up less with any temporary view than as a
calm and impartial appeal to the justice of posterity.
His
The account of Swift's reception in Ireland sub-
sequent to the queen's death and the dissolution of
the Tory ministry, by lord Orrery, offers a singular
contrast to that given by Dr. Delany at the period of
the dean's instalment; for the discrepancy between
the two is so great that we are justified in concluding
they were speaking of different periods. In the first
instance he was received with marked respect, if we
except the scurrilous verses by Smedley upon his
taking possession of the deanery; but it is doubtless
the second time of his return from England to which
Orrery refers when he says that he dared hardly ven-
ture forth and was pelted by the populace. And it
was probably when thus treated, than which we can
imagine nothing more galling to a man so fond of
popular influence and power, that he designated the
people as a vile abandoned race, from whom he
seemed desirous of seeking refuge anywhere.
prudence and integrity, however, even in the opinion
of the critical Johnson, soon changed the tide of
public feeling-he was seldom in the wrong-his
spirit rose with opposition; and the archbishop of
Dublin (Dr. King) almost invariably gave way, like
the archbishop of York and his other opponents;
who finally solicited either the acquaintance or
friendship of the good but eccentric dean.
So con-
fident, indeed, was his friend lord Bolingbroke in
his powers of pleasing where once he obtained an
introduction, that, on Oxford's dismissal, he courted
the dean's support upon any terms, engaging that he
would even reconcile him to the court and his in-
veterate enemy the duchess of Somerset, and open
the treaty for his promotion to an English bishop-
ric. During his brief tenure of power, (only a
few days,) Bolingbroke showed his high estimation
of the dean by obtaining from the queen an order
for one thousand pounds to cover the charges upon
his instalment, of which, though suddenly deprived
of this benefit by her death, and finally giving it up
to his enemy Walpole-multa gemens-as he ex-
presses it, offers no less a striking proof of his im-
mense influence with a man like Bolingbroke. "Yet,"
to his immortal honour," observes Scott, "when his
favourite path of honour, ambition, preferment,
opened anew before him (in the place of honourable
exile in Ireland), he paused not a moment, but wrote
to solicit a renewal of his licence for absence, then
on the point of expiring; not that he might share
the triumph and prospects to which he was invited
by the royal favourite and the new prime minister,
but in order to accompany his beloved friend and
patron to neglect and seclusion." (Scott's "Memoirs,"
&c.) Such was the man upon whom libels upon
libels were showered, whom the mob insulted in the
streets, and even young men of rank so far forgot
their education and ancestral honours as to insult
openly, and endanger his life in the public high-
ways, till they compelled him in his own defence to
apply for legislative protection. Being under the
necessity of taking daily exercise, and unable to
xlvi
LIFE AND WORKS OF
venture out without risk of his life, he drew up a pe-
tition addressed to the house of lords, upon an un-
provoked and brutal outrage upon him by one of the
members of their house; and as it throws strong
light upon his mode of living, and is an amusing
anecdote, we give it here :—
"The humble petition of Jonathan Swift, D.D.,
and dean of the cathedral of St. Patrick's,
Dublin,
"Most humbly sheweth,
"That your petitioner is advised by his physi-
cians, on account of his health, to go often on horse-
back; and there being no place in winter so con-
venient for riding as the strand toward Howth, your
petitioner takes all opportunities that his business or
the weather will permit to take that road. That in
the last session of parliament, in the midst of winter, |
as your petitioner was returning from Howth with
his two servants, one before and the other behind
him, he was pursued by two gentlemen in a chaise
drawn by two high-mettled horses in such a manner
that his servant who rode behind him was forced to
give way with the utmost peril of his life; where-
upon your petitioner made what speed he could,
riding to the right and left above fifty yards, to the
full extent of the said road; but the two gentlemen,
driving a light chaise drawn by fleet horses, and in-
tent upon mischief, turned faster than your peti-
tioner, endeavouring to overthrow him. That, by
great accident, your petitioner got safe to the side
of a ditch, where the chaise could not safely pursue;
and, the two gentlemen stopping their career, your
petitioner mildly expostulated with them, where-
upon one of the gentlemen said, 'Damn you, is not
the road as free for us as for you?' and, calling to
his servant who rode behind him, said, Tom (or
some such name), is the pistol loaded with ball?'
To which the servant replied, 'Yes, my lord;' and
gave him the pistol. Your petitioner often said to
the gentleman, 'Pray, sir, do not shoot, for my horse
is apt to start, by which my life may be endangered.'
The chaise went forward, and your petitioner took
the opportunity to stay behind. Your petitioner is
informed that the person who spoke the words above
mentioned is of your lordships' house, under the
style and title of lord Blaney, whom your petitioner
remembers to have introduced to Mr. secretary Ad-
dison, in the earl of Wharton's government, and to
have done him other good offices at that time, be-
cause he was represented as a young man of some
hopes and a broken fortune. That the said lord
Blaney, as your petitioner is informed, is now in
Dublin, and sometimes attends your lordships'
house. And your petitioner's health still requiring
that he should ride, and being confined in winter to
go on the same strand, he is forced to inquire from
every one he meets whether the said lord be on the
same strand; and to order his servants to carry arms
against the like or a worse insult from the said lord,
for the consequences of which your petitioner can-
not answer.
"Your petitioner is informed by his learned
counsel that there is no law now in being which
can justify the said lord, under colour of his peerage,
to assault any of his majesty's subjects on the king's
highway, and put them in fear of their lives, without
provocation, which he humbly conceives that by only
happening to ride before the said lord he could not
possibly give.
"Your petitioner, therefore, doth humbly implore
your lordships, in your great prudence and justice,
to provide that he may be permitted to ride with
safety on the said strand, or any other of the king's
|
highways, for the recovery of his health, so long as
he shall demean himself in a peaceable manner,
without being put into continual fears of his life by
the force and arms of the said lord Blaney."
Among others of the same aristocratic stamp sir
Thomas Southwell, one of the commissioners of the
revenue, often mentioned as a friend in Swift's
letters and journal, took equal pride in kicking at
the dying political lion (as Swift was then con-
sidered), by treating him with marked contumely
and neglect. The dean had occasion to address him
upon some occasion respecting a matter of business
in public. "I'll hold you a groat, Mr. Dean,” was
the vulgar reply, "that I do not know you at
all." Some time afterwards, when this hopeful sprig
of aristocracy was created my lord Southwell he con-
ceived it would forward his views to court the popu-
lar and influential drapier, expressing of course the
deepest regret, like the two archbishops and other
aspersers of the dean's good name, for his past
conduct, as being occasioned by the heat of party;
and once attempted to regain the insulted dean's
acquaintance by saluting him with the greatest
courtesy. But Swift, with that readiness of retort
for which he was so remarkable, gave him back his
own coin in the very words he had used-"I'll lay
you a groat, my lord, I do not know you."
Other instances of the lofty demeanour and cou-
rageous conduct of the dean, under the adverse cir-
cumstances of his party and the Whig persecutions
which ensued, are not wanting, which raised him
both in private and public opinion previous to the
popular opposition he commenced with reference to
the introduction of Wood's notable scheme, and the
oppressive Irish government of Walpole. To such a
degree also was the spy-system carried on as to in-
duce the dean to secure his manuscripts as well as
his ordinary letters from the gripe of the new
government, which, on again attaining power, took
warning by the fate of its Tory predecessor in neg-
lecting to destroy those whom it had conquered,
and, by impeachment and other processes, not only
crippled its adversaries, but reduced them for the
period to absolute extremity. Swift's private letters
were opened, and a packet addressed by him to the
duke of Ormond's chaplain was. seized by a mes-
senger. It was even industriously reported by the
Whig emissaries that dean Swift had suddenly ab-
sconded in consequence of the treasonable contents
of newly discovered papers; and many other little
dirty arts to blast his fame were resorted to.
Had there existed the shadow of a power of
procceding against him, there is no reason to
doubt that the great Whigs of the day would have
seized upon it to effectually silence the voice of one
who, by his single efforts, had turned the tide of
public opinion, opened the way to a peace, and de-
prived them of the means of all their permanent
war abuses, their taxes, contracts, and wide-spread
speculations. The dean was held up, however, as a
suspicious and disaffected person; and all his Whig
acquaintance held aloof as from a marked man:
nor are traces of this spirit wanting in the letters of
his former correspondents. In one from archbishop
King, the professed friend but secret maligner of
Swift's reputation, this derogatory tone, implying
censure, suspicion, and sarcasm-
"Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike”—
is peculiarly observable, and may serve as a sample
of the thousand. "We have a strong report," he
says, "that my lord Bolingbroke will return here and
be pardoned; certainly it must not be for nothing.
I hope he can tell no ill story of you."
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xlvii
How frankly and nobly on the other hand, with
the indignation of conscious rectitude, Swift repels
the mean insinuations of the archbishop and his nu-
merous traducers of the same character!" I should
be sorry,'
"he observes, "to see my lord Bolingbroke
following the trade of an informer, because he is a
person for whom I have always had and still conti-
nue a very great love and esteem.
And as to my-
self, if I were of any importance I should be very
easy under such an accusation, much easier than I
am to think your grace imagines me in any danger.
I am surprised your grace could think or act or cor-
respond with me for some years past, while you
must needs believe me a most false and vile man,
declaring to you on all occasions my abhorrence of
the pretender, and yet privately engaged with a
ministry to bring him in. I always professed to be
against the pretender, and am so still. And this is
not to make my court, which I know is vain; for I
own myself full of doubts, fears, and dissatisfactions,
which I think on as seldom as I can. Yet if I were
of any value, the public may safely rely on my
loyalty, because I look upon the coming of the pre-
1
tender as a greater evil than any we are likely to
suffer under the worst Whig ministry that can be
found."
As affording the most happy illustrations of the
dean's real character and opinions at this period, ex-
hibited in his mode of living, his private converse,
and correspondence with intimate friends, we shall
continue to give occasional extracts from his own.
letters in preference to retailing the petty scandals
from the pen of lord Orrery and his imitators, whose
allegations have been amply refuted by the ablest
and most impartial of Swift's biographers, from the
honest Delany to the pre-eminently distinguished
Scott.
Although it is evident that Swift considered him-
self in a state of honourable exile in Ireland, he
adapted himself to his circumstances with the be-
coming spirit of an Irish resident who has no means
of escape. He opened his house for a public table
two days in every week, and his fame and social
wit not having suffered by political conflict, his en-
tertainments became gradually frequented by nume-
rous visitants of learning among the men, and of
elegance and taste among the ladies, attracted no
less by curiosity than by the amiable manners and
accomplishments of Stella (Miss Johnson), who
lived not far from the deanery, and presided upon
these occasions, but simply in the character of a
guest.
Upon other days, however, the dean often dined
at a stated price with Mr. Worrall, a clergyman of
his cathedral, whose house was the more pleasant to
him owing to the peculiar neatness and good humour
of his wife. To this frugal mode of living Swift
was the more inclined from his earnest wish to pay
some debts: what he adopted from principle he con-
tinued from choice, and for the means it gave him of
more extended charities, of restoring and ornament-
ing the cathedral, besides the hopes he had early
formed of founding an hospital and of leaving the
deanery to his successor in a more improved state
than he found it. His parsimony, which doubtless
increased with age, was thus held subordinate to his
dignity, his public spirit, and his benevolence; and
it was his customary saying that he was "the poorest
gentleman in Ireland who ate upon plate, and the
richest that lived without a coach." The rest of
Swift's time during his earlier residence in Ireland
appears to have been spent in occasional excursions,
when he made his observations upon the character
and condition of the people, in occasional visits to
the seats of his friends and to his vicarage at Laracor,
which he still retained. Always fond of the more
refined and dignified amusements of the country, he
took pleasure in laying out grounds, in planting and
cultivating, as he termed it, "his willows". -a pursuit
in which he would often indulge at Quilca, the country
residence of his friend Dr. Sheridan, and which gave
rise to some amusing anecdotes to be met with in
his works. But his happiest moments in his relax-
ation from the superintendence of his clerical
duties were spent in addressing his friends in Eng-
land and receiving tidings of their welfare.-"Two
years' retreat," says lord Oxford (6th August, 1717),
"has made me taste the conversation of my dearest
friend with a greater relish than even, at the time of
my being charmed with it in our frequent journeys
to Windsor. My heart is often with you." Nor
are the expressions made use of in the letters of lord
Bolingbroke and Swift's other friends, when every
interested motive and all views of ambition, wealth,
and power had ceased to operate, less honourable to
the character of Swift, whose great and amiable
qualities seem to have possessed in his absence,
the same power over those who knew him with all
persons and of whichever sex, as they had done
when he was present before them. Of this singular
power, resembling a sort of fascination in Swift's
conversation and society, there are a number of
striking instances on record from the very first mani-
festation of his remarkable character and talents;
for, to make a summary from the beginning of his
most extraordinary history, it is certain that a pretty
bar-maid of an inn at Leicester first fell in love with
him, and awakened his mother's apprehensions of
his forming an imprudent engagement; the sister of
his college companion Mr. Waryng next became at-
tached to him, and was so deeply smitten as to urge
him closely on the topic of matrimony. Yet, strange
to say, in neither of these affairs does it appear that
Swift at all assumed the character, much less the
usual assiduities, of a lover; and all the inference
we can make is that there are peculiar qualities in
certain men of mental and personal superiority
which first give rise to admiration in woman's eyes,
then to love, and lastly to the desire of monopolising
the beloved object. There is no proof upon record
of Swift ever having made the first advances, or of
his ever having replied in the usual love-terms to
those advances when made. On the contrary, the
evidence is altogether of an opposite kind, that the
intercourse was one of mind and of a purely intel-
lectual kind, and that the opinion entertained of
Swift's natural coldness and perhaps constitutional
defect was a correct one; but that he possessed
some peculiar attraction in the ladies' eyes, the cir-
cumstance of his having received an anonymous
declaration of love from a third lady at an early pe-
riod of life seems to offer some degree of proof. His
correspondence with the fourth lady upon the list
seems to have commenced very much in the same
manner, on the lady's side, from the unhappy cir-
Nothing in the English language can surpass the admira-
tion of Swift's high qualities, the tender regard and enthusins-
tic devotion due to superior mind and intellect, than the follow-
ing extract from a letter of lord Bolingbroke's to Swift (October
23, 1716) :—“ It is a very great truth, that, among all the losses
which I have sustained. none affected me more sensibly than
that of your company and correspondence. Your letter breathes
the same spirit as your conversation at all times inspired, even
when the occasions of practising the severest rules of virtuous
fortitude seemed most remoto. Adieu, dear friend; may the
kindest influence of Heaven be shed upon you. Whether we
may ever meet again, that Heaven only knows ;-if we do, what
millions of things shall we have to talk over In the mean
while, believe that nothing sits so near my heart as my country
and my friends, and that among these you ever had and ever
shall have a principal place."
xlviii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
cumstance of having been early brought into contact
with the superior power of Swift's intellectual and
fascinating conversation. The manner in which
Miss Vanhomrigh's affection for Swift (the fifth in
the strange eventful history of his love affairs) sprung
up, bore almost an unvarying resemblance to the
preceding; the attachment like the intercourse with
the family was gradual and slow, unintended, un-
expected, perhaps without either weakness or pre-
meditation on either side; and rather springing out
of circumstances and a certain unhappy fatality than
from the fault or even acknowledged volition of
the too unfortunate lovers; for the passion of Va-
nessa undoubtedly gave rise to corresponding decla-
rations at least upon the side of Cadenus. Swift
was probably not aware of the existence of so
devoted a love on the part of Vanessa until it be-
came irremediable, and too late for either to retract.
In 1714 her mother died; and having some property
in Ireland, and listening at the same time to the
dictates of her love, she followed Swift into Ireland.
He sought by every means to change her purpose,
and her arrival was a source of deep anxiety to him.
There was nothing he more dreaded than that the
knowledge of her being in Dublin, or his visiting
her there, should transpire. It would be idle to
attempt to disguise the truth, that throughout the
whole of this most unhappy affair Swift is thought
to have acted with a degree of harshness and cruelty
which, though very probably intended to promote
the ultimate peace and happiness of both, by restrain-
ing or turning into another direction the stream of
her affections, at once sensitive and impetuous,
was followed by sudden and fatal results. It will
here be most interesting to give those passages from
the mutual correspondence which seem to throw
light upon the progress and character of their inti-
macy, to follow it to the close, and to dismiss it as
we should some painful and unhappy casualty from
our sorrowing recollection. In most of her early
letters she anxiously importunes the object of all her
hopes and her fears for a reply; and in the whole
correspondence she displays high talent, the most
amiable temper, combined with an enthusiastic de-
sire to please the object of her heart's devotion.
By a full and impartial representation of facts the
public will be enabled to judge how far the strictures
passed upon the dean's conduct, with relation to this
unhappy affair, by those critical tribunals which so
much influence public opinion, are founded in
truth.
If correct in their accusations that the dean
made use of the slightest artifice or premeditation in
gaining the lady's affections, they must convict him
of having uttered the most gross and palpable un-
truths. Of these the person most interested, to whom
they were addressed, would have been happy to
show the fallacy, if Swift had been bold enough
to advance assertions so utterly unfounded, or had
entertained the slightest suspicion of her early
passion, or the most remote idea of addressing her
except in language of the strictest propriety and pa-
ternal regard, until the fatal declaration of her un-
alterable love, when there is not the least proof that
he ever sought, though he returned it. Had he been
to blame, or committed himself in any particular, the
lady was too deeply interested not to have taken ad-
vantage of the circumstance; whereas she never
once throws the shadow of a reproach upon his per-
fect frankness, openness, and truth, far from consider-
ing him in a moral view at all responsible for the suf-
ferings she had so unwittingly incurred. Would he
have dared to attest his perfect guilelessness, as
he did in his poem of "Cadenus and Vanessa," when
the lady and the lady's friends might easily have ex-
posed his treachery and falsehood, had he assumed
any
other character than that of a maturely aged
tutor and friend of her family? Would she nowhere
in her letters, in passages where she gives way both
to passion and indignant feeling, have reproached
him with the falsehood of words, which attested his
conscious innocence, like the following ?-
"His thought had wholly been confined
To form and cultivate her mind;
He hardly knew till he was told
Whether the nymph were young or old;
Had met her in a public place
Without distinguishing her face;
Much less could his declining age
Vanessa's earliest thoughts engage;
And, if her youth indifference met,
His person must contempt beget:
Or, grant her passion be sincere,
How shall his innocence be clear?
Appearances were all so strong,
The world must think him in the wrong;
Would say he made a treacherous use
Of wit to flatter and seduce:
The town would swear he had betray'd
By magic spells the harmless maid;
And every beau would have his jokes,
That scholars were like other folks;
And when Platonic flights were over
The tutor turn'd a mortal lover!
So tender of the young and fair I
It show'd a true paternal care:-
Five thousand guineas in her purse !
The doctor might have fancied worse.”
Swift appears here to have stated the case as it oc-
curred, or he would not have ventured to have
spoken so directly to the point; while, at the same
time, his sagacity pointed out the unfavourable con-
struction which, under circumstances so peculiar,
might and would be put upon his motives and con-
duct. In this respect it appears to us that the
poem, so admirably conceived and executed, was not
written solely as a peace-offering or compliment to
the charms of the complaining lady, but as a record
of the facts and circumstances of the case as they
really occurred; a fair statement of the blame or re-
sponsibility to which he was exposed, and containing
his just vindication in a bold appeal to posterity,-
for the author must have felt the poem would live,
-which the party for whom it was written, were it
not true, might have covered with infamy and con-
tempt. In his entire correspondence he displays
the same open fearless reliance upon the rectitude
of his motives and his conduct, and it is evident that,
while he soothes and compassionates her, he feels
that she has no claim or tie upon him whatever;
nor does she insinuate one fault but the want of a
for
passionate return of her misplaced affection;
Swift was then infirm, suffering both in mind and
body, and fast declining into the vale of years.
nessa's passion therefore ought to be regarded, not
as that of a young woman whose affections had been
sought and then spurned by her equal in years and
rank, but as an instance of that peculiar class which
by some fatality fixes its views upon one object,
while that object itself is wholly unconscious of what
is passing in the other's mind. Swift doubtless felt
himself very much in the situation of a man who re-
ceives a love-letter or a valentine from an anony-
mous hand; and, if we are to credit the story as told
to the lady herself, was not bound to feel any more
responsibility than for such a declaration—which he
also really received-from an unknown hand.
thing can possibly be farther from the tone of real
love or tenderness than that in which Swift addresses
miss Vanhomrigh in those letters upon which so
much stress has been laid, dating from the beginning
of August, 1712. It is curious too that he never
once made use of the word "dear," addressed to so
many commoner friends: for which she rallied
Va-
No-
JONATHAN SWIFT.
xlix
him, and expressed a sort of jealousy, which did not
however induce him to make the slightest altera-
tion; and he preserves the formal address "To Mrs.
Hester Vanhomrigh, jun., at her lodgings over
against Park-place, in St. James's-street, London."
The following appears to have been written from
Windsor, while he was engaged in the heat of party
politics, and passing the life at once of a politician,
a writer, and a social wit:-"I thought to have
written to little Missessy by the colonel, but at last
I did not approve him as a messenger. Mr. Ford
began your health last night under the name of the
Jilt, for which I desire you will reproach him. I do
neither study nor exercise so much here as I do in
town. The colonel [Vanessa's brother] will inter-
cept all the news I have to tell you, of my fine snuff-
box [presented by general Hill], and my being at a
ball, and my losing my money at ombre with the
duke and duchess of Shrewsbury. I cannot imagine
how you pass your time in our absence, unless by
lying a-bed till twelve, and then having your fol-
lowers about you till dinner. We have despatches
to-day from lord Bolingbroke [at Paris]; all is ad-
mirably well, and a cessation of arms will be declared
with France in London on Tuesday next. I dined
with the duke of Shrewsbury to-day and sat an hour
by Mrs. Warburton, teaching her when she played
wrong at ombre, and I cannot see her defects; either
my eyes fail me or they are partial. But Mrs.
Touchet is an ugly awkward slut. What do you do
all the afternoon? How came you to make it a se-
cret to me that you all designed to come to Windsor?
If you were never here, I think you all cannot do
better than come for three or four days; five pounds
will maintain you and pay for your coach backwards
and forwards. I suppose the captain will go down
with you now for want of better company. I will
steal to town one of these days and catch you nap-
ping. I desire you and Moll [Vanessa's sister] will
walk as often as you can in the park, and do not sit
moping at home-you that can neither work, nor
read, nor play, nor care for company. I long to
drink a dish of coffee in the sluttery, and hear
dun me for Secrete, and Drink your coffee-why
don't you drink your coffee?' My humble service
to your mother, and Moll, and the colonel. Adieu."
you
In the following, likewise, instead of using any
endearing epithets or adopting the least affectionate
tone, the whole tenor of the letter is as opposite as
can well be conceived to that addressed by a lover
to the object of his regard. "Miss Hessy," he be-
gins, "is not to believe a word Mr. Lewis says in
his letter" (it is written from his friend Lewis's
office). "I would have writ to you sooner, if I had
not been busy and idle and out of humour, and did
not know how to send it to you without the help of
Mr. Lewis, my mortal enemy. I am so weary of
this place that I am resolved to leave it in two days,
and not return in three weeks. I will come as early
on Monday as I can find opportunity, and will take
a little Grub-street lodging, pretty near where I did
before, and dine with you thrice a-week, and will
tell you a thousand secrets, provided you will have
no quarrels with me. Adieu."
In the next (also without date) Swift seems to
allude to the difficulties in which the family of Mrs.
Vanhomrigh was placed by the sudden death of the
father, although possessed of considerable property,
subjected as it was to litigation, and of an estate in
Ireland. Swift would have dissuaded them from
going to Oxford, owing to the risk, we are to infer,
of being seen by some parties who had claims upon
them. This letter has not a single introductory epi-
thet, and commences in the most unloving and busi-
ness-like manner.
"I did not forget the coffee, for
I thought you should not be robbed of it. John does
not go to Oxford, so I send back the book as you de-
sire. I would not see you for a thousand pounds if
I could; but I am now in my nightgown writing a
dozen letters and packing up papers. Why then,
you should not have come, and I know that as well
as you.
My service to your mother; I doubt you do
wrong to go to Oxford; but now that is past, since
you cannot be in London to-night; and if you do
not inquire for acquaintance, but let somebody in the
inn go about with you among the colleges, perhaps
you will not be known. Adieu."
Swift, it is evident, was consulted by the Vanhom-
righs with regard to their affairs in the most confi-
dential manner, and it is this which gives to his let-
ters so matter-of-fact and so familiar a tone, address-
ing, as he invariably does, each member of the
household in the same free and jocose style as if he
himself formed one of the family. "I have writ
three or four lies in as many lines. Pray seal up the
letter to Mr. Long and let nobody read it but your-
self. I suppose this packet will lie two or three
hours till you awake. And pray let the outside
starched letter to you be seen, after you have sealed
that to Mrs. Long. See what arts people must use"
(alluding to the embarrassed circumstances of the
party), "though they mean ever so well. Now are
you and Puppy lying at your ease without dreaming
anything of all this."
The following appears to have been addressed by
the lady to the dean when at Windsor, and displays
both grace and wit in her happy manner of rallying
him on his silence and his too evident indifference:
-"Had I," she observes (London, Sept. 1, 1712),
a correspondent in China, I might have had an
answer by this time. I never could think till now
that London was so far off in your thoughts, and
that twenty miles were by your computation equal
to some thousands. I thought it a piece of charity
to undeceive you on this point, and to let you know,
if you give yourself the trouble to write, I may pro-
bably receive your letter in a day; it was that made
me venture to take pen in hand the third time.
Sure you'll not let it be to no purpose. You must
needs be extremely happy where you are, to forget
your absent friends; and I believe you have formed
a new system, and think there is no more of this
world passing your sensible horizon. If this be your
notion I must excuse you; if not, you can plead no
other excuse; and if it be, sir, I must reckon myself
of another world; but I shall have much ado to be
persuaded till you send me some convincing argu-
ments of it. Don't dally in a thing of this conse-
quence, but demonstrate 'tis possible to keep up a
correspondence between friends, though in different
worlds, and assure one another, as I do you, that I
am your most obedient and humble servant,
"E. VANHOMRIGH.'
In pursuance of the example doubtless set by Swift,
the lady here adopts the same distant terms both in
the opening and close of her letter; and it will appear
how soon she felt the restraint and pain of this cold
and distant manner, and in vain attempted to throw
the spell of more endearing epithets over the cold
and provoking manner of the dean. "Mr. Lewis
tells me," she continues (Sept. 2nd, 1712), “that you
have made a solemn resolution to leave Windsor the
moment we come there; 'tis a noble resolution, and
pray keep to it. Now, that I may be no way's acces-
sory to your breaking it, I design to send Mr. Lewis
word to a minute when we shall leave London, and
if there be a by-way you had better take it, for I
LIFE AND WORKS OF
very much apprehend that seeing us will make you
break through all, at least I am sure it would make
you heartily repent; and I would not for the world,
could I avoid it, give any uneasiness or this score,
because I must infallibly upon another. For when
Mr. Lewis told me what you had done (which I
must needs say was not in so soft a manner as he
ought, both out of friendship to you and compassion
to me), I immediately swore that to be avenged of
you I would stay in Windsor as long as Mrs. H- -e
did; and if that was not long enough to tease you, I
would follow her to Hampton-court; and then I should
see which will give you most vexation-seeing me
but sometimes or not seeing her at all. Besides, Mr.
Lewis has promised me to intercept all your letters
to her, and hers to you; at least he says I shall read
them en passant; and for sealing them again, let him
look to that. I think your ruin is amply contrived,
for which don't blame me but yourself, for 'twas your
rashness prompted to this malice, which I should never
else have thought of."
To this spirited epistle the dean replied next day
from Windsor castle, with the addition of a fine
haunch of venison sent to the lady's mother, in his
usual bantering style. "I send this haunch of veni-
son to your mother, not to you, and this letter to you,
not to your mother. I had your last and your bill,
and know your reasons. I have ordered Barber to
send you the overplus sealed up: I am full of busi-
ness [about his preferment] and ill-humour. Some
end or other shall be put to both.
I thought you
would have been here yesterday is your journey
hither quite off? I hope Moll is recovered of her ill-
ness, and then you may come. Have you 'scaped
your share in this new fever? I have hitherto, though
of late I am not well in my head. You rally very
well; Mr. Lewis allows you to do so.
I read your
letter to him. I have not time to answer, the coach
and venison being just ready to go.
46
Pray eat half an ounce at least of the venison, and
present my humble service to your mother, Moll, and
the colonel. I had his letter, and will talk to him
about it when he comes. This letter I doubt will
smell of the venison. I wish the hang-dog coach-
man may not spoil the haunch in the carriage."
Previous to setting out for Ireland to take possession
of his new preferment, Swift again addressed to her
the following letter, full of acknowledgments for the
attentions he had received both from herself and the
lady's family:-"I promised to write to you, and I
have, to let you know that it is impossible for any-
body to have more acknowledgments at heart for all
your kindness and generosity to me. I hope this
journey will restore my health. I will ride but little
every day, and I will write a common letter to you
all from some of my stages, but directed to you.
could not get here till ten this night. Pray be merry
and eat and walk, and be good; and send me your
commands, whatever Mr. L. shall think proper to ad-
vise you. I have hardly time to put my pen to paper,
but I would make good my promise. Pray God pre-
serve you and make you happy and easy; and so
adieu."
I
From Chester upon his way to Ireland Swift
again writes to the lady's mother (humorously ad-
dressed to "Madam Van, at the sign of the Three
Widows, in Pom-roy-alley, with care and speed”—
June 6, 1713); and his letter contains perhaps rather
more of a loving and affectionate character than any
we have seen addressed to her daughter, while he at
least allows her the distant and dignified epithet of
madam :-" You heard of me from Dunstable by the
way of Hessy. I have had a sad time since. If Moll's
“even so" had been there, she would have none left.
me.
Now Hessy grumbles that I talk of Moll. I have
resolved upon the direction of my letter already, for
I reckon Hessy and Moll are widows as well as you,
or at least half-widows. Davila [the historian] goes
off rarely now. I have often wished for a little of
your ratsbane [coffee]; what I met on the road does
not deserve the name of ratsbanc. I have told Mr.
Lewis the circumstances of my journey; and the
curious may consult him upon it. Who will Hessy
get now to chide, or Moll to tell her stories and bring
her sugar-plums? We never value anything enough
till we want it. I design to send Hessy a letter in
print from Ireland, because she cannot read writing-
hand except from Mr. Partington. I hope you have
heard again from the colonel, and that he is fully
cured of I don't know what, I forget. It was
under cover to Mr. Lewis that I wrote to you from
Dunstable; I writ to Hessy by Barber from St.
Albans. I left London without taking leave of sir
John. I fear a person of his civility will never pardon
I met no adventures in all my travels, only
my horse fell under me, for which reason I will not
ride him to Holyhead, I can assure him that. I
could not see any marks in the chimney at Dunstable
of the coffee Hessy spilt there; and I had no dia-
mond ring about me to write any of your names in
the windows. But I saw written dearest lady Betty
Hamilton, and hard by Middleton Walker, whom I
take to be an Irish man-midwife, which was a plain
omen of her getting a husband. I hear Moor, the
handsome parson, came over with the archbishop of
Dublin. Did he not marry one Mrs. Devenesh?
Lord Lanesborough has been here lately on his way
to Ireland, and has got the good will of all the folks
in our town. He had something to say to every little
boy he met in the streets. Well, he is the courteous-
est man, and nothing is so fine in the quality as to be
courteous. Now Moll laughs because I speak wisely,
and now Hessy murmurs again. Well, I had a
charming handsome cousin here twenty years ago.
I was to see her to-night, and in my conscience she
is not handsome at all; I wonder how it comes
about; but she is very good natured, and you know,
Moll, good nature is better than beauty. I desire
you will let me know what fellows Hessy has got to
come to her bedside in a morning (a custom with
French ladies), and when you design again to hobble
to Chelsea, if you did not tell me a lie as I much
suspect. My head is something better, though not
so well as I expected, by my journey. I think I have
said enough for a poor weary traveller. I will con-
clude without ceremony and go to bed.
And if you
cannot guess who is the writer, consult your pillow,
and the first fine gentleman you dream of is the man.
So adieu."
It would appear that, on the same day (June 6,
1713) when this amusing epistle was penned, Va-
nessa was engaged in replying to one of his former
letters to herself, still preserving the formal address of
"sir."
"SIR,-Now you are good beyond expression in
sending me that dear voluntary from St. Alban's. It
gives me more happiness than you can imagine, or I
describe, to find that your head is so much better
already. I do assure you all my wishes are em-
ployed for the continuance of it. I hope the next
will tell me they have been of force. Had I the
power I want, every day that did not add as much
to your health till it was quite established as Mon-
day last should be struck out of the calendar as use-
less ones. I believe you little thought to have been
teased by me so soon; but when Mr. Lewis told me
if I would write to you that he would take care of
my letter, I must needs own that I had not self-
JONATHAN
li
SWIFT.
denial enough to forbear. Pray, why did not you
remember me at Dunstable, as well as Moll? Lord!
what a monster is Moll grown since. But nothing
of poor Hess, except that the mark will be in the
same place of Davila where you left it. Indeed, it
is not much advanced yet, for I have been studying
of Rochefoucault, to see if he described as much of
love as I found in myself a Sunday, and I find he
falls very short of it. How does Bolingbroke
[Swift's horse] perform? You have not kept your
promise of riding but a little every day; thirty miles
I take to be a very great journey. I am very im-
patient to hear from you at Chester. It is impos-
sible to tell you how often I have wished you a cup
of coffee and an orange at your inn."
The depth and sincerity of Vanessa's affection are
manifest in this letter; and it is equally evident,
from the following written the same month, that her
passion augmented instead of decreasing in the ab-
sence of its object. It possesses all the interest and
pathos of the most touching drama :-
"It is inexpressible the concern I am in ever since
I heard from Mr. Lewis that your head is so much
out of order. Who is your physician?
For God's
sake don't be persuaded to take many slops. Satisfy
me so much as to tell me what medicines you have
taken and do take. How did you find yourself while
a-shipboard? I fear it is your voyage that has dis-
composed you; and then so much business follow-
ing immediately before you had time to recruit; it
was quite too much. I beg you to make all the
haste imaginable to the country, for I firmly believe
that air and rest will do you more good than any-
thing in the world besides. If I talk impertinently
I know you have goodness enough to forgive me
when you consider what an ease it is to me to ask
these questions, though I know it will be a great
while before I can be answered; I am sure I shall
think it so. Oh! what would I give to know how
you do at this instant! My fortune is too hard;
your absence was enough without this cruel addi-
tion. Sure the powers above are envious of your
thinking so well, which makes them sometimes
strive to interrupt you; but I must confine my
thoughts, or at least stop from telling them to you, or
you may chide, which will still add to my uneasiness.
I have done all that was possible to hinder myself
from writing to you till I heard you were better, for
fear of breaking my promise; but it is all in vain
for had I vowed neither to touch pen, ink, or paper,
I certainly should have had some other invention;
therefore I beg you won't be angry with me for
doing what is not in my power to avoid. Pray make
Parvisol write me word what I desire to know, for
I would not for the world have you hold down your
head. I am impatient to the last degree to hear
how you are. I hope I shall soon have you here.”
The intense anxiety expressed in this letter shows
how greatly the one pervading sentiment which ab-
sorbed all other cares and affections had altered the
former happy and rallying humour of Swift's fair
correspondent; and he must have been struck with
grief and apprehension at the evidence of deep in-
creasing passion and the fatal tendency which it be-
tokened to one or both the parties interested in the
sequel. And from whatever cause derived, wretch-
edness, indignation (the sæva indignatio which he
had fixed over his grave), and sad unavailing regret,
must have torn his inmost heart that he could not
return and prove himself worthy of so charming a
being's love, so unalterably enthusiastic and de-
voted to him alone. With what heartfelt delight
she hails the symptoms of his returning health, and
proves the truth of that observation pronounced by
Swift himself to be correct, that in woman love al-
most invariably begets desire, while in man it is the
opposite-desire most frequently gives rise to love!
For though not a word escaped him, many circum-
stances combine to show that Vanessa was secretly
beloved, and that the previous acquaintance with
Stella, and perhaps some other unknown obstacle,
stood in the way. The following letter affords a de-
cided proof that she felt the truth of this, and that,
had Swift been a man free to act and likely to give
way to the dictates of passion in opposition to the
sense of stern duty and obligation, he would have
been only too happy to possess the treasure of a love
at once so pure and ardent as almost instantaneously
to destroy its victim, when she felt that she had in-
He must have been
curred his severe displeasure.
more or less than man to have read it without
feelings of the deepest grief, tenderness, and grati-
tude; and, as he truly states in his beautiful
poem on
the subject,-
"Cadenus felt within him rise
""
Shame, disappointment, guilt, surprise;
He knew not how to reconcile
Such language with her usual style:
And yet her words were so express'd,
He could not hope she spoke in jest.
And though it is evident that towards the close of
her fatal passion he loved and even adored her per-
fections, if we are to believe his own words, and
that his nature indeed was capable of love resem-
bling hers, he yet in the outset had not the remotest
idea of becoming an object of so passionate a de-
votion of heart and soul;
"She fancies music in his tongue;
Nor further looks, but thinks him young.
What mariner is not afraid
To venture in a ship decay'd?
What planter will attempt to yoke
A sapling with a falling oak?
As years increase she brighter shines;
Cadenus with each day declines;
And he must fall a prey to time,
While she continues in her prime.
Cadenus, common forms apart,
In every scene had kept his heart;
Had sigh'd and languish'd, vow'd and writ,
For pastime, or to show his wit;
But books and time and state affairs
Had spoil'd his fashionable airs;
He now could praise, esteem, approve,
But understood not what was love."
And especially the following lines, if we may give
him credit for a sincerity he dare hardly have as-
sumed could the lady have convicted him of guilt,
exhibit his most triumphant defence, and the best
refutation of the calumnies heaped upon him by
his political enemies up to the present day :—
"His conduct might have made him styled
A father and the nymph his child.
That innocent delight he took
To see the virgin mind her book,
Was but the master's secret joy
In school to hear the finest boy.'
This is not saying much for love; and nothing to
promise a favourable termination to their acquaint-
ance, such as Vanessa sighed for.
"Mr. Lewis,” she resumes (June, 1713) “ assures
me that you are now well, but will not tell me what
authority he has for it. I hope he is rightly in-
formed; though it is not my usual custom when a
thing of consequence is in doubt to flx on what I
earnestly wish. But I have already suffered so much
by knowing that you were ill, and fearing that you
were worse than you have been, that I will strive to
change that thought, if possible, that I
possible, that I may have a
little ease, and more-that I may not write you a
splenetic letter. Pray, why would you not make
Parvisol write me word how you did, when I begged
it so much? And if you were able yourself, how
lii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
could you be so cruel to defer telling me the thing
which I wished of all the most to know? If you
think I write too often, your only way is to tell me
so, or at least to write to me again that I may know
you don't quite forget me; for I very much fear
that I never employ a thought of yours now except
when you are reading my letters, which makes me
ply you with them (Mr. Lewis complains of you
too). If you are very happy, it is ill-natured of you
not to tell me so; except it is what is inconsistent
with mine [alluding to Stella]. But why don't you
talk to me that you know will please me? I have
often heard you say that you would willingly suffer
a little uneasiness, provided it gave another a vast
deal of pleasure. Pray, remember this maxim, be-
cause it makes for me. Pray, let me know when
you design coming over [June, 1713]; for I must
beg you to talk to Mr. P. and settle some affairs for
me. Pray, let me hear from you soon, which will
be an inexpressible joy to her that is always "
The unfortunate lady soon makes more earnest
complaints of hearing from him so seldom :-" Here
is now three long weeks passed since you wrote to
me. Oh! happy Dublin, that can employ all your
thoughts; and happy Mrs. Emerson, that could hear
from you the moment you landed.
landed. Had it not been
for her I should be yet more uneasy than I am. I
really believe before you leave Ireland I shall give
you just reason to wish I did not know my letters,
or at least that I could not write; and I had rather
you should wish so than entirely forget me. Con-
fess, have you once thought of me since you wrote
to my mother at Chester? which letter I assure you
I take very ill. My mother and I have counted the
Molls and the Hessys; it is true the number is
equal, but you talk to Moll, and only say 'now
Hessy grumbles.' How can you indeed possibly be
so ill-natured to make me either quarrel or grumble,
when you are at so great a distance that it is impos-
sible for me to gain by doing so? Besides, you
proposed that the letter should be directed to me;
but I'll say no more of this, but keep my temper till
Pray, have you answered the letter I
wrote you to Chester? I hear you had a very quick
passage. I hope it was a pleasant one, and that you
have no reason to complain of your health.
health. We
have had a vast deal of thunder for this week past.
I wish you had been here last Thursday; I am sure
you could have prevented the bills from being lost."
we meet.
The last passage, we may here observe, affords
strong collateral evidence of the high estimation in
which Swift's political influence was held at that
period; that bills containing articles of the treaty
of commerce with France, so important to the credit
of the Tory ministry, might owe their fate to the tact
and talent of a single individual, and that individual
not a member of the commons' house. And other
passages of Swift's correspondence tend to confirm
the lady's view of the case. "Are not you," she
continues, "prodigiously surprised at sir Thomas
Hanmer and lord Anglesey [going over to the
Whigs]? Lord! how much we differ from the
ancients, who used to sacrifice everything for the
good of the commonwealth; but now our greatest
men will at any time give up their country out of
pique, and that for nothing. It is impossible to
conceive the rejoicings that are among the Whigs
since that day, and I fear the elections will add to
them. Lord-treasurer has been extremely to blame.
for all his friends advised him to let it be dropped by
consent till next session; but, depending on the
same success he had on the malt-tax, he would not
do it. I know you'll say, 'What does the slut mean
to talk all this stuff to me? If I was there I had
|
as lieve hear it as anything they could say; but to
pursue me with your nonsense is intolerable.—I'll
read no more.-Will! go to the post-office and see
if there be more letters for me? What, will this
packet only serve to teaze me?' I can tell you
you'll have none from lady Orkney by the post,
whatever you may have by any other carriage. I
have strictly observed your commands as to reading
and walking. Mr. Ford can witness the latter, for
he has paddled with us several nights. I have a
vast deal to tell you about him when I see you.
Mr. Lewis has given me the Dialogues des Morts;
and I am so charmed with them that I am resolved
to quit my body, let the consequence be what it will,
except you will talk to me; for I find no conversa-
tion on earth comparable to yours; so if you care
I should stay on earth, do but talk, and you will
keep me with pleasure.”
Poor Vanessa appears to have had just reason to
complain of Swift's silence and apparent indifference,
an interval of upwards of a year now occurring in
their correspondence. Yet he says when residing
in Berkshire (June, 1714),-"You see I am better
than my word, and write to you before I have been
a week settled in the house where I am ;" and after
describing his quiet mode of life already alluded to,
he concludes with hoping that she is in good health
and humour, and desiring his service to Moll, keep-
ing to the last what he doubtless esteemed most
important,-the assurance that his cold was quite
gone. Again he writes the ensuing month (July,
1714),-"I find you take heavily that touch upon
your shoulder [threatened arrest]. I would not
have writ to you so soon if it were not to tell you
that, if you want to borrow any money, I would have
you to send to Mr. Barber, or Ben Tooke, which you
please, and let them know it, and the sum, and that
I will stand bound for it and send them my bond.
I did not know our posts went on Tuesday, else I
would have writ two days ago to tell you this. I
do not see how you can be uneasy when the year is
out;
for you can pay only what you receive you
are answerable for no more, and I suppose you have
As for
not given bonds to pay your mother's debts.
your 27. 5s. that you gave your note for, if that
be all, it is a trifle, and your owning it with so much
apology looks affected.
apology looks affected. If you have no more secret
debts than that, I shall be glad. But still I cannot
understand how any of those creditors of your
mother can give you any trouble, unless there be
some circumstances that I do not know the bottom
of. I believe I shall not stay here [Upper Selcomb,
Wantage] much longer, and therefore, if you wish to
borrow money, I would have you do it soon, and
of the two rather of Ben Tooke; because I have just
drawn a note upon Barber for thirty guineas for my
I believe a bond had better be
own expenses.
sent to me down to sign; and I will send it back to
You may speak
you, and you may give it Ben.
freely to Ben of this, and if he has no money by
him we must apply to Barber. I am forced to con-
clude in haste, because the post-house is two miles.
off, and it will be late if I stay longer. Adieu. My
service to Molkin."
The real kindness and liberality of Swift's dispo-
sition are here apparent, though he affects to conceal
the interest he feels under the guise of indifference
and a business-like attention to the details of the
affair. When Vanessa followed him to Ireland, and,
in going to take possession of her property, fixed
her temporary residence in Dublin, the dean's alarm
and vexation are too strong to be repressed, and he
is in evident dread of becoming compromised by
some indiscretion on the lady's side. This is the
JONATHAN SWIFT
liii
only excuse that can be offered for the hasty and
almost brutal language contained in some of his
letters; and that dated from Philipstown (Nov. 5,
1714) seems to have been written under an impres-
sion of some impending disaster (addressed to Mrs.
Vanhomrigh, at her lodgings, Turnstile-alley, near
College-green, Dublin)." I met your servant when
I was a mile from Trim, and could send him no
other answer than I did, for I was going abroad by
appointment; besides, I would not have gone to
Kildrohod (the Irish name of Cellbridge, her estate)
to see you for all the world. I ever told you, you
wanted discretion. I am going to a friend upon a pro-
mise, and shall stay with him about a fortnight, and
then come to town, and I will call upon you as soon
as I can, supposing you lodge in Turnstile-alley, as
your servant told me, and that your neighbours can
tell me whereabouts. Your servant said you would
be in town on Monday, so that I suppose this will
be ready to welcome you there. I fear you had a
journey full of fatigues. Pray take care of your
health in this Irish air, to which you are a stranger.
Does not Dublin look very dirty to you, and the
country very miserable? Is Kildrohod as beautiful
as Windsor, and as agreeable to you as the prebend's
lodgings there? Is there any walk about you as
pleasant as the avenue and the Marlborough-lodge?
I have ridden a tedious journey to-day, and can say
no more. Nor shall you know where I am till I
come; and then I will see you. A fig for your let-
ters and messages. Adieu.'
Vanessa having replied in a strain of grief and
affliction bordering upon despair, Swift wrote in a
more subdued and softened tone, evidently in still
greater alarm at what might next occur:-" I will
see you in a day or two," he says; "and believe
me it goes to my soul not to see you oftener. I will
give you the best advice, countenance, and assistance
I can. I would have been with you sooner if a
thousand impediments had not prevented me. I did
not imagine you had been under difficulties. I am
sure my whole fortune should go to remove them.
I cannot see you, I fear, to-day, having affairs of
my place to do; but pray think it not want of
friendship or tenderness, which I will always con-
tinue to the utmost. With how much pleasure
Vanessa received any approaches to a milder
and more affectionate spirit, like these, in him
she loved, may be inferred from the buoyant and
joyous character of her next letter:-"Is it pos-
sible that again you will do the very same thing
I warned you of so lately? I believe you thought
I only rallied when I told you the other night
that I would pester you with letters.
Did not I
know you very well I should think you knew but
little of the world to imagine that a woman would
not keep her word whenever she promised anything
that was malicious. Had
Had you not better a thousand
times throw away one hour at some time or other of
the day than to be interrupted in your business at
this rate for I know it is quite impossible for you
to burn my letters without reading them, as it is for
me to avoid reproving you when you behave your-
self wrong.
Once more I advise you, if you have
any regard for your own quiet, to alter your beha-
viour, for I do assure you I have too much spirit
to sit down contented with this treatment. Because
I love frankness extremely I here tell you now that
I have determined to try all human arts to reclaim
you; and if all these fail I am resolved to have
recourse to the black one, which it is said never
does. . . . Pray think calmly of it! Is it not better
to come of yourself than to be brought by force, and
that perhaps at a time when you have the most
agreeable engagement in the world [alluding per-
haps to Stella]; for when I undertake to do any-
thing I don't love to do it by halves. But there is
one thing falls out very luckily for you, which is,
that of all the passions revenge hurries me least, so
that you have it yet in your power to turn all this
fury into good humour, and depend upon it and
more, I assure you. Come at what time you please,
you can never fail of being very well received."a
The correspondence at this time seems to have
assumed a more gay and animated air, with less of
suspicion and jealousy on the lady's side. Swift
expressed his admiration of her epistolary wit and
talent, and declared if she wrote so well he would
come the seldomer, on purpose to be pleased with
her letters, which he never looked into without
wondering how a brat who could not read (a jest)
could possibly write so well. The following has
much of the dean's earlier and more humorous spirit,
and there is no doubt that, had he been so happy as
to have continued the correspondence, and possessed
the society of Vanessa, and of minds like hers, he
would at once have chastened and elevated his fancy,
and escaped the corruption of his taste and the pros-
titution of his genius and talents to low-lived
ribaldry and the mean love of exposing the foibles
of his friends, in weaving doggrel rhymes and pieces,
and Latin nonsense, in competition with obse-
quious companions whose flatteries lulled his vanity
and betrayed him.
"I am now writing," he says, "on Wednesday
night, when you are hardly settled at home, and it
is the first hour of leisure I have had, and it may be
Saturday before you have it, and then there will be
governor Huff;b and to make you more so I here
a It will not be uninteresting here to subjoin to the narrative
of this romantic passion, without the least taint or alloy of
criminal desire, some poetical effusions from the peu of Van-
essa, who, as well as Stella, appears to have been endowed
with the Muses' inspiration no less than the loves and graces
pictured by the poets. The first of these is entitled "An Ode
to Spring:"-
Hail, blushing goddess, beauteous spring,
Who in thy jocund train doth bring
Loves and graces, smiling hours,
Balmy breezes, fragrant flowers;
Come, with tints of roseate hue,
Nature's faded charms renew.
Yet why should I thy presence hail?
To me no more the breathing gale
Comes fraught with sweets; no more the rose
With such transcendant beauty glows
As when Cadenus bless'd the scene,
And shared with me those joys serene;
When, unperceived, the lambent fire
Of friendship kindled new desire;
Still list'ning to his tuneful tongue;
The truths which angels might have sung
Divine impress'd their gentle sway,
And sweetly stole my soul away.
My guide, instructor, lover, friend,-
Dear names in one idea blend;
Oh still conjoin'd your incense rise,
And waft sweet odour to the skies.
AN ODE TO WISDOM.
O PALLAS, I invoke thy aid;
Vouchsafe to hear a wretched maid,
By tender love depress'd;
'Tis just that thou should'st heal the smart,
Inflicted by thy subtle art,
And calm my troubled breast.
No random shot from Cupid's bow,
But, by thy guidance soft and slow
It sunk within my heart.
Thus love being arm'd with wisdom's force
In vain I try to stop its course,
In vain repel the dart.
Oh goddess! break the fatal league;
Let love with folly and intrigue
More fit associates find!
And thou alone, within my breast,
Oh, deign to soothe my griefs to rest
And heal my tortured mind.
This expression refers to Vanessa's desire of having things
her own way,
liv
LIFE AND WORKS OF
enclose a letter to poor Molkin, which I will com-
mand her not to show you, because it is a love-letter.
I reckon by this time the groves and fields and purl-
ing streams have made Vanessa romantic, provided
poor Molkin be well. Your friend sent me the
verses he promised, which I here transcribe.
Nymph, would you learn the only art,
To keep a worthy lover's heart;
First, to adorn your person well,
In utmost cleanliness excel:
And though you must the fashions take,
Observe them but for fashion's sake:
The strongest reason will submit
To virtue, honour, sense, and wit:
To such a nymph, the wise and good
Cannot be faithless, if they would;
For vices all have different ends,
But virtue still to virtue tends;
And when your lover is not true,
"Tis virtue fails in him or you :
And either he deserves disdain,
Or you without a cause complain;
But here Vanessa cannot err,
Nor are those rules applied to her;
For who could such a nymph forsake,
Except a blockhead or a rake?
Or how could she her heart bestow,
Except where wit and virtue grow?
"In my opinion these lines are too grave, and
therefore may fit you, who I fear are in the spleen;
but that is not fit either for yourself or the person
you tend, to whom you ought to read diverting
things. Here is an epigram that concerns you not:-
"Dorinda dreams of dress a-bed,
"Tis all her thought and art;
Her lace hath got within her head,
Her stays stick to her heart.
"If you do not like these things, what must I say?
This town yields no better. The questions which
you were used to ask me, you may suppose to be all
answered just as they used to be after half-an-hour's
debate; Entendez vous cela?' You are to have a
number of parsons in your neighbourhood, but not
one that you love, for your age of loving parsons is
not yet arrived. What this letter wants in length it
will have in difficulty, for I believe you cannot read
it. I will write plainer to Molkin, because she is
not much used to my hand. I hold a wager there
are some lines in this letter you will not understand,
though you can read them; so drink your coffee,
and remember you are a desperate chip, and that the
lady who calls you bastard will be ready to answer
all your questions. It is now Sunday night before
I could finish this."
It is clear, from the following passage, that Swift
was very apprehensive of his correspondence with
Vanessa becoming generally known:-" Yesterday,"
he observes," I was half-way towards you, where I
dined, and returned weary enough. I asked where
that road to the left led; and they named the place.
I wish your letters were as difficult as mine, for
then they would be of no consequence if they were
dropped by careless messengers. A stroke thus
letter I wrote you was obscure and constrained
enough. I took pains to write it after your manner;
it would have been much easier for me to have wrote
otherwise. I am not so unreasonable as to expect
you should keep your word to a day, but six or seven
days are great odds. Why should your apprehen-
sions for Molkin hinder you from writing to me?
I think you should have wrote the sooner to have
comforted me. Molkin is better, but in a very weak
way. Though those who saw me told you nothing
of my illness, I do assure you I was for twenty-four
hours as ill as 'twas possible to be, and live. You
wrong me when you say I did not find that you an-
swered my questions to my satisfaction; what I said
was, I had asked those questions as you bid, but
could not find them answered to my satisfaction.
How could they be answered in absence, since Som-
nus is not my friend?
friend? We have had a vast deal of
thunder and lightning;-where do you think I wished
to be then? and do you think that was the only time
I wished so since I saw you? I am sorry my jea-
lousy should hinder you from writing more love-
letters; for I must chide sometimes, and I wish I
could gain by it at this instant, as I have done and
hope to do. Is my dating my letter wrong the only
sign of my being in love? Pray tell me, did not you
wish to come where that road to the left would have
led you? I am mightily pleased to hear you talk of
being in a huff; 'tis the first time you ever told me
so; I wish I could see you in one. I am now as
happy as I can be without seeing CAD. I beg
you will continue happiness to your own Skinage."
The lady finds still more causes of dissatisfaction,
though yet to be informed of the dean's marriage
with Stella, which becomes more apparent as we
proceed :-
“ ———————- CAD,—I am, and cannot avoid being, in the
spleen to the last degree. Everything combines to
make me so. Is it not very hard to have so good a
fortune as I have, and yet no more command of that
fortune than if I had no title to it? One of the
D-rs is I don't know what to call him. He
behaved himself so abominably to me the other day,
that had I been a man he should have heard more
of it. In short, he does nothing but trifle and make
excuses. I really believe he heartily repents that
ever he undertook it, since he heard the counsel
first plead, finding his friend more in the wrong
than he imagined. Here am I obliged to stay in
this odious town, attending and losing my health
and humour. Yet this and all other disappoint-
ments in life I can bear with ease but that of being
neglected by Cad. He has often told me that
the best maxim in life, and always held by the wisest
in all ages, is to seize the moments as they fly, but
those happy moments always fly out of the reach of
the unfortunate. Pray tell Cad I don't re-
member any angry passages in my letter, and I am
very sorry if they appeared so to him. Spleen I
cannot help, so you must excuse it. I do all I can
to get the better of it; and it is too strong for me.
I have read more since I saw Cad than I did in a
great while past, and chose those books that re-
most attention on purpose to engage my
thoughts; but I find the more I think the more
unhappy I am.
signifies everything that may be said to Cad
at the beginning or conclusion. It is I who ought
to be in a huff that anything written to Cad should
be dffiicult to Skinage. I must now break off ab-
ruplty, for I intend to send this letter to-day."quired
(August 4.)
In the following, however, Vanessa reiterates her
complaints of Swift's strange, harsh, and variable
conduct towards her. Her letter is dated, Cellbridge,
1720:-
66...
— CAD,—You
CAD, You are good beyond expression, and
I will never quarrel again if I can help it; but with
submission, 'tis you that are so hard to be pleased,
though you complain of me. I thought the last
Swift himself, under the character of Cadenus.
b Her sister.
"I had once a mind not to have wrote to you for
fear of making you uneasy to find me so dull, but I
could not keep to that resolution for the pleasure of
writing to you. The satisfaction I have in your re-
membering me when you read my letters, and the
delight I have in expecting one from Cad,
makes me rather choose to give you some uneasi-
ness than to add to my own."
As we approach the termination of this strange
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lv
correspondence, the dean's wit and good nature,
damped by the unhappy circumstances in which he
was placed, appear by no means improved by age.
As early as 1720 he felt a sense of dulness creeping
upon him, which terminated in that utter idiocy and
insanity to which he had a decided tendency in his
retirement from politics and the disappointment of
his ambitious hopes; and it is only upon this sup-
position we can account for many discrepancies in
his language and conduct towards the unhappy ob-
jects who had, early or late, bestowed their affec-
tions upon him. Unhappy in himself, it was not
likely he could confer happiness upon women of sus-
ceptible feelings and delicate tastes, and by exciting
their intellectual ambition, and by cultivating and ex-
panding their minds, he only added to their unhap-
piness with their knowledge, and made them less
contented with their lot. In the next letter there is
a want of the genuine spirit and humour we so much
admire in his earlier writings :-
TO MISS VANHOMRIGH.
August 12, 1720.
"I apprehended on the return of the porter I sent
with my last letter that it would miscarry, because I
saw the rogue was drunk; but yours made me easy.
I must neither write to Molkin, nor not write to
her. You are like lord Pembroke, who would nei-
ther go nor stay. Glasheel talks of going to see
you, and taking me with him, as he goes to his
country-house. I find you have company with you
these two or three days; I hope they are diverting,
at least to poor Molkin. Why should Cad's letters
be difficult? I assure you -'s are not all.
I
"I am vexed that the weather hinders you from
any pleasure in the country, because walking I be-
lieve would be of good use to you and Molkin.
reckon you will return a prodigious scholar, a most
admirable nurse-keeper, a perfect housewife, and a
great drinker of coffee.
a
"I have asked, and am assured there is not one
beech in all your groves to carve a name on, nor
purling stream, for love or money, except a great
river, which sometimes roars, but never murmurs,
just like governor Huff. We live here in a very
dull town, every valuable creature absent, and Cad
says he is weary of it, and would rather drink his
coffee on the barrenest mountain in Wales than be
king here.
"A fig for partridges and quails;-
Ye dainties, I know nothing of ye;
But, on the highest mount in Wales,
Would choose in peace to drink my coffee.
And you know very well that coffee makes us se-
vere, and grave, and philosophical. What would
you give to have the history of Cd -
and
exactly written through all its steps from the begin-
ning to this time I believe it would do well in
verse, and be as long as the other. I hope it will
be done. It ought to be an exact chronicle of
twelve years from
the time of spilling of
coffee to drinking of coffee; from Dunstable to
Dublin, with every single passage since.
"There would be the chapter of Madame going to
Kensington; the chapter of the blister; the chapter
of the colonel going to France; the chapter of the
wedding, with the adventures of the lost key; of
the sham; of the joyful return; two hundred chap-
ters of madness; the chapter of long walks; the
Berkshire surprise; fifty chapters of little times; the
chapter of Chelsea; the chapter of swallow and
cluster; a hundred whole books of myself, &c.; the
chapter of hide and whisper; the chapter of who
a The Liffey.
The dean never completed this second part of the poem,
bids me
made it so; my sister's money. Cad
tell you that if you complain of difficult writing he
See how much I have
will give you enough of it.
written without saying one word of Molkin; and
you will be whipped before you will deliver a mes-
sage with honour. I shall write to J. Barber next
post, and desire him to be in no pain about his mo-
ney. I will take not one word of notice of his
riches, on purpose to vex him. If heaven had
looked upon riches to be a valuable thing, it would
not have given them to such a scoundrel. I deli-
vered your letter enclosed to our friend, who hap-
pened to be with me when I received it.
I find you
are very
much in his good grace, for he said a mil-
lion of fine things upon it, though he would let
nobody read a word of it but himself, though I was
so kind to show him yours to me, as well as this,
which he has laid a crown with me you will not un-
derstand, which is pretty odd for one that sets up for
so high an opinion of your good sense.
I am ever,
with the greatest truth, yours, &c.
August 13."
In proportion as Swift relents Vanessa's hopes
rise, and it is evidently her fond ambition to with-
draw him from the influence of Stella, being still
wholly unconscious of the marriage, and to bring
him to confess his love at her feet.
FROM MISS VANHOMRIGH.
Cellbridge, 1720.
CAD, is it possible that you will come and
see me? I beg for God's sake you will; I would
give the world to see you here (and Molkin would
be extremely happy). Do you think the time long
since I saw you?
"I did design seeing you this week, but will not
stir, in hopes of your coming here. I beg you'll
write two or three words by the bearer, to let me
know if you think you'll come this week. I shall
have the note to-night. You make me happy be-
yond expression by your goodness. It would be too
much once to hope for such a history; if you had
laid a thousand pounds that I should not understand
your letter, you had lost it. Tell me sincerely, did
those circumstances crowd on you, or did you recol-
lect them only to make me happy?"
TO MISS VANHOMRIGH.
"Thursday morn, ten.
"I will see you to-morrow if possible. You
know it is not above five days since I saw you, and
that I would ten times more if it were at all conve-
nient, whether your Old Dragon come or no, whom
I believe my people cannot tell what to make of,
but take him for some conjuror. Adieu."
The following passages in Swift's letters (Oct. 15,
1720) show the interest he took in Vanessa's affairs:
"I had a letter from your friend J. B. [John
Barber] in London, in answer to what I told you
that Glasheel said about the money. J. B.'s answer
is, that you are a person of honour; that you need
give yourself no trouble about it: that you will pay
when you are able, and he shall be content till then.
These are his own words, and you see he talks in
the style of a very rich man, which he says he yet
is, though terribly pulled down by the fall of stocks.
I am glad you did not sell your annuities unless
somebody were to manage and transfer them while
stocks were high." (Oct. 17th.) "I had not a mo-
ment to finish this since I sat down to it. A person
was with me just now, and interrupted me as I was
going on with telling me of great people here losing
a This remarkable sentiment is the sting of Arbuthnot'e celo-
brated epitaph on Chartres.
b Cadenus.
Ivi
LIFE AND WORKS OF
their places, and now some more are coming about
business. So adieu till by and by, or to-morrow."
(Oct. 18th.) "I am getting an ill head in this cursed
town for want of exercise. I wish I were to walk
with you fifty times about the garden, and then
drink your coffee. Glasheel takes up abundance of
my time in spite of my teeth.
teeth. Everybody grows
silly and disagreeable, or I grow monkish and sple-
netic, which is the same thing. I was sitting last
night with half a score of both sexes for an hour,
and grew as weary as a dog. Conversation is full of
nothing but South Sea, and the ruin of the kingdom,
and scarcity of money. I had a thousand times
rather hear the governor [Vanessa] chide two hours
without reason." (Oct. 20.) "The governor was
with me at six o'clock this morning, but did not
stay two minutes, and deserves a chiding, which you
must give when you drink your coffee next. I hope
to send this letter to-morrow. I am a good deal out
of order in my head, after a little journey I made;
ate too much I suppose, or travelling in a coach
after it. I am now sitting at home alone, and will
go write to Molkins. So adieu."
FROM MISS VANHOMRIGH.
"Cellbridge, 1720.
"You had heard from me before, but that my
messenger was not to be had till to-day, and now I
have only time to thank you for yours, because he
was going about his business this moment, which is
very happy for you, or you would have had a long
letter full of spleen. Never was human creature
more distressed than I have been since I came.
Poor Molkin has had two or three relapses, and is in
so bad a way that I fear she will never recover.
Judge now what a way I am now in, absent from
you, and loaded with melancholy on her score.
have been very ill with a stitch in my side, which is
not very well yet."
TO MISS VANHOMRIGH.
" 'Four o'clock.
"I dined with the provost, and told him I was
coming here, because I must be at prayers at six.
He said you have been with him, and would not be
at home this day, and went to Cellbridge to-morrow.
I said I could, however, go try. I fancy you told
him so, that he might not come to-night; if he
comes you must piece it up as you can, else he will
think it was on purpose to meet me, and I hate any-
thing that looks like a secret.
"I cannot possibly call after prayers: I therefore
came here in the afternoon while people were in
church, hoping certainly to find you. I am truly af-
fected for poor Moll, who is a girl of infinite value,
and I am sure you will take all possible care of her,
and I hope to live to see the sincerest friendship in
the world long between you. I pray God of heaven
protect you both, and am, entièrement."
TO MISS VANHOMRIGH.
a
"Monday.
"I am surprised and grieved beyond what I can
express. I read
I read your letter twice before I knew what
Is
it meant, nor can I yet well believe my eyes.
that poor good creature dead? I observed she
looked a little ghastly on Saturday, but it is against
the usual way for one in her case to die so sudden.
For God's sake get your friends about you to advise
It is all you
and to order everything in the forms.
have to do. I want comfort myself in this case, and
can give little. Time alone must give it you. No-
thing now is your part but decency. I was wholly
unprepared against so sudden an event, and pity you
most of all creatures at present."
Miss Mary Vanhomrigh.
The death of Vanessa's sister, her increasing jea-
lousy and anxieties, with the growing infirmities of
the dean, and his forced residence in a place he
disliked, far from his early literary friendships and
political connexions, present altogether one of the
most melancholy pictures of human wretchedness
and vanity, notwithstanding the greatness of Swift's
reputation, that can well be conceived. Two
charming women, both of whom had riveted their
affections upon him, were sinking into their
early graves from unrequited love—a love to which
circumstances placed it out of his power to make
a due return. He again writes to the unhappy
victim of misplaced passion from Gallstown, near
Kinnugad (July 5, 1721), and observes, "I an-
swer all your questions that you were used to
ask Cad, and he protests he answers them in the
affirmative. How go your law affairs? You were
once a good lawyer, but Cad hath spoiled you.
I had a weary journey in an Irish stage-coach, but
am pretty well since." To give the brief sequel of
this strange and mysterious connexion, on which it
is impossible now to throw any satisfactory light;
Swift writes to Vanessa from Clogher (June 1, 1722)--
"This is the first time I have set pen to paper since I
left Dublin, having not been in any settled place till
ten days ago; and I missed one post by ignorance,
and that has stopped me five days. Before that time
I was much out of order by the usual consequences
of wet weather and change of drink, neither am I
yet established, though much better than I was.
I answer all the questions you can ask
me in the affirmative. I remember your detesting
and despising the conversation of the world. I have
been so mortified with a man and his lady here two
days, that it has made me as peevish as-(I want a
comparison). I hope you are gone or going to your
country-seat, though I think you have a term upon
your hands.
I shall be here long enough to receive
your answer, and perhaps to write to you again, but
then I shall go farther off if my health continues,
and shall let you know my stages. I have been for
some days as splenetic as ever you was in your life,
which is a bold word. Remember I still enjoin you
reading and exercise for the improvement of your
mind and health of your body, and grow less ro-
mantic, and talk and act like a man of this world.
It is the saying of the world, and I believe you often
say, I love myself; but I am so low I cannot say it,
though your new acquaintance were with
with you,
which I heartily wish for the sake of you and myself.
Last year I writ you civilities and you
were angry, yet my thoughts were still the same;
and I give you leave to be governor, and will be an-
swerable for them. I hope you will let me have some
of your money when I see you, which I will pay
honestly you again. Repondez moi si vous entendez
bien tout cela, et croyez que je serai toujours tout ce
que vous désirez." Adieu!
Swift appears about the period he wrote this letter
to have been journeying from place to place, and
collecting materials for those papers, some of which
he subsequently published, in conjunction with his
friend Sheridan, in the Intelligencer; and which
now for the first time make their appearance in any
collection of his works. His next is dated from
Loughgall, in the county of Armagh, and is highly
characteristic of the dean's character and peculiari-
ties under the circumstances in which he was placed.
"I have received yours, and have changed places so
often since, that I could not assign a place where I
might expect an answer from you, and if you be now
in the country and the letter does not reach you in
the due time after the date, I shall not expect to hear
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lvii
from you, because I leave this place the beginning of very like those of baboons and monkeys; they all
August.
I am well pleased with the account of grinned and chattered at the same time, and that
The rooms being
of things I did not understand.
visit and the behaviour of the ladies. I see
your
every day as silly things among both sexes, and yet
endure them for the sake of amusement. The worst
thing in you and me is, that we are too hard to please;
and whether we have not made ourselves so is the
question; at least, I believe, we have the same rea-
son.
One thing that I differ from you is, that I do
not quarrel with my best friends. I believe you
have ten angry passages in your letter, and every one
of them enough to spoil two days a-piece of riding
and walking. We differ prodigiously in one point;
-I fly from the spleen to the world's end; you run
out of the way to meet it. I doubt the bad weather
has hindered you much from the diversions of your
country-house, and put you upon thinking in your
chamber. The use I have made of it was to read I
know not how many diverting books of history and
travels. I wish you would get yourself a horse and
have always two servants to attend you, and visit
your neighbours, the worse the better. There is a
pleasure in being reverenced, and that is always in
your power by your superiority of sense and an easy
fortune. The best maxim I know in life is to drink
your coffee when you can, and when you cannot to
be easy without it; while you continue to be sple-
netic, count upon it I will always preach. Thus
much I sympathize with you that I am not cheerful
enough to write, for I believe coffee once a-week
is necessary to that.
I have shifted scenes
oftener than ever I did in my life, and I believe have
lain in thirty beds since I left the town. I always
drew up the clothes with my left hand, which is a
superstition I have learnt these ten years. These
country posts are always so capricious that we are
forced to send our letters at a call on a sudden, and
mine is now demanded, though it goes not out till
to-morrow. Be cheerful, and read, and ride, and
laugh as Cad used to advise you long ago.
hope your affairs are in some better settlement.
do long to see you in figure and equipage: pray do
not lose that taste. Farewell!"
I
I
It appears that his accomplished friend and cor-
respondent so far gave into his views as to try the
efficacy of mixing in general society; a remedy
which unhappily only proved to her the superiority
of the dean's social qualities and wit.
FROM MISS VANHOMRIGH.
-CAD,-I thought you had quite forgot both
me and your promise of writing to me. Was it
not very unkind to be five weeks absent without
sending me one line to let me know you were well,
and remembered me? Besides, you have had such
bad weather that you could have no diversion abroad;
what then could you do but write and read? I know
you do not love cards, neither is this a time of
year for that amusement. Since I saw you I have
gone more into the world than I did for some time
past, because you commanded me, and I do protest
here that I am more and more sick of it every day
than another. One day this week I was to visit a
great lady that has been a-travelling for some time
past, where I found a very great assembly of ladies
and beaux (dressed as I suppose to a nicety). I hope
you'll pardon me now I tell you that I heartily wished
you a spectator, for I very much question if in your
life you ever saw the like scene, or one more extra-
ordinary. The lady's behaviour was blended with
so many different characters, I cannot possibly de-
scribe it without tiring your patience. But the au-
dience seemed to be a creation of her own, they were
so very obsequious. Their forms and gestures were
VOL. I.
|
one of
hung with arras, in which were trecs very well de-
scribed, just as I was considering their beauty and
wishing myself in the country with
these animals snatched my fan, and was so pleased
with me that it seized me with such a panic that I
apprehended nothing less than being carried up to
the top of the house and served as a friend of yours
was, but in this
one of their own species came
I
I do declare I
in, upon which they all began to make their grimaces,
which opportunity I took and made my escape.
have not made one single step in either law or refer-
ence since I saw you. I meet with nothing but dis-
appointments, yet am obliged to stay in town attend-
ing Mr. P., &c., which is very hard.
have so little joy in life that I don't care how soon
mine ends. For God's sake write me soon, and
kindly, for in your absence your letters are all the
joy I have on earth, and sure you are too good-natured
to grudge one hour in a week to make any human.
creature happy. Cad, think of ine and pity me."
TO MISS VANHOMRIGH.
"I am this moment leaving my present residence,
and if I fix anywhere shall let you know it, [for I would
fain wait till I got a little good weather for riding and
walking, there never having been such a season as this
remembered; though I doubt you know nothing of
it but what you learn by sometimes looking out at
your back window to call your people. I had your
last, with a splendid account of your law affairs.
You were once a better solicitor, when you could
contrive to make others desire your consent to an
act of parliament against their own interest to ad-
vance yours. Yet at present you neither want power
nor skill, but disdain to exercise either. When
When you
are melancholy, read diverting or amusing books; it
is my receipt, and seldom fails. Health, good humour,
and fortune, are all that is valuable in this life, and
the last contributes to the two former. I have not
rode in all above poor 400 miles since I saw you, nor
do I believe I shall ride above 200 more till I see you
again; but I desire you will not venture to shake
me by the hand, for I am in mortal fear of the itch,
and have no hope left but that some ugly vermin
called ticks have got into my skin, of which I have
pulled out some, and must scratch out the rest.
not this enough to give me the spleen? for I doubt
no christian family will receive me: and this is all a
man gets by a northern journey. It would be un-
happy for me to be as nice in my conversation and
company as you are, which is the only thing wherein
you agree with Glassheel, who declares there is not
a conversable creature in Ireland except Cad. What
would you do in these parts, where politeness is as
much a stranger as cleanliness? I am stopped, and
this letter is intended to travel with me; so adieu till
the next stage. Aug. 8.
Is
Yesterday I rode 29 miles without being weary,
and I wish little Heskinage could do as much. Here
I leave this letter to travel on one way while I
go another, but where I do not know, nor what
cabins or bogs are in my way. I see you this
moment as you are visible at ten in the morning,
and now you are asking your questions round, and
I am answering them with a great deal of affected
delays, and the same scene has passed forty times
as well as the other, from two till seven, longer
than the first by two hours, yet each has its agrémens
particuliers]. A long vacation. Law lies asleep, and
bad weather. How do you wear away the time? Is
it among the fields and groves of your country-seat,
¿
lviii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
or among your cousins in town, or thinking in a
train that will be sure to vex you, and then reasoning
and forming teasing conclusions from mistaken
thoughts? The best company for you is a philoso-
pher, whom you would regard as much as a sermon.
I have read more trash since I left you than would
fill all your shelves, and am abundantly the better for
it, though I scarce remember a syllable. [Go over the
scenes of Windsor, Cleveland-row, Rider-street, St.
James's-street, Kensington, the Sluttery, the Colonel
in France, &c. Cad thinks often of these, especially
on horseback, as I am assured.] What a foolish thing
is time, and how foolish is man, who would be as
angry if time stopped as if it passed! But I will not
proceed at this rate; for I am writing and thinking
myself fast into a spleen, which is the only thing that
I would not compliment you by imitating. So adieu
till the next place I fix in, [if I fix at all till I return,
and that I leave to fortune and the weather]."
The sequel of this unhappy story, almost as strange
and improbable as any in the wildest romance, is soon
told. A fatal influence seemed to hang over it from
the beginning, and the heart of Swift, torn by con-
tending emotions, hastened the final doom of one to
whom, with all his morbid errors, he seems to have
been devotedly attached. In a moment of grief,
anguish, and remorse, he had given his hand to
another, in the vain hope of snatching that once be-
loved object from an untimely grave. The discovery
of that fact, so long concealed, was the last blow
which the gentle and affectionate Vanessa had to
sustain. Swift had entreated his friend and former
tutor, the bishop of Clogher, to ascertain the cause
of that melancholy which evidently preyed on Stella's
mind, and must have been shocked to hear of "her
sensibility to his late indifference, and to the discre-
dit which her character had sustained from the du-
bious and mysterious connexion between them."
Swift observed in reply that he had long formed two
resolutions with regard to matrimony: one, not to
marry till he possessed an independence; the other,
that such an event should take place at a period
which should give him hopes of seeing his children
provided for in the world. He had not obtained a
competent fortune; and he was past the time of life
which gave him a reasonable prospect of bringing up
a family-rules exceedingly prudent to adopt, but
which called for extreme caution and circumspection
on the part of every honourable man who, in his in-
tercourse with the other sex, determines to regulate
his conduct by them.
To satisfy public opinion, however, he intimated
his consent to a formal marriage; and it took place in
the garden of the deanery, the ceremony being per-
formed by the bishop of Clogher, in the year 1716.a
After it had taken place we are informed that Swift
evinced a very unhappy state of mind. The gloom
and agitation previously shown became such that he
is said to have sought an interview with archbishop
King, the nature of which has never transpired; but
we are assured by Dr. Delany that, upon entering
the prelate's library to make known his apprehen-
sions, Swift himself rushed by him with a counte-
nance full of grief and a distracted air, without even
noticing his presence. Delany observed the arch-
bishop to be weeping, and upon inquiring into the
cause was answered, "Sir, you have just met the
most unhappy man upon earth; but on the subject
of his wretchedness you must never ask a question."
From this strange mystery Delany suspected that
a Strong doubts however aro entertained by some excellent
authorities-Mr. Monck Mason and Dr. Lyon-of any marriage
having taken place. Scott states the arguments very fully upon
both sides, and seems to lean to the belief that it did actually
occur.
Swift, subsequent to his union, discovered there ex-
isted too close a consanguinity between Stella and
himself, and that both were the illegitimate children
of sir W. Temple-a supposition for which there
could be assigned no reasonable grounds. Whatever
may have been the cause, Swift's intercourse with
Stella continued as distant and guarded as before,
and it was attended with the same inconveniences
and ceremony.
She had few acquaintance but
Swift's male friends; and one of those few has
left it upon record "that Stella used to go, with
Mrs. Dingley, to Dr. Delany's villa on Wednesdays,
where his men companions dined before he was
married to my poor friend. Mrs. Delany, who once
saw her by accident, was much struck with the beauty
of her countenance, and particularly with her fine
dark eyes. She was very pale, and looked pensive
but not melancholy, and her hair as black as a
raven."
An
We have seen how much Swift renewed his efforts,
after Stella's marriage, to check the growth of Va-
nessa's passion, and sought to direct her affections
towards another object. Through him dean Winter
became a candidate for her hand; and she was ad-
dressed with no better success by Dr. Price, after-
wards archbishop of Cashell. An interesting account
of Vanessa, and the secluded manner in which she
lived, has been left by a correspondent of sir W. Scott:
Marley abbey," he says, "near Cellbridge, where
Miss V. resided, is built much in the form of a real
cloister, especially in its external appearance.
aged man-upwards of 90-showed the grounds; the
son of Mrs. V.'s gardener, and used to work with his
father in the garden when a boy. He remembered
the unfortunate Vanessa well, and his account of her
corresponded with the usual description of her per-
son, especially as to her embonpoint. He said she
was seldom abroad, and saw little company; her
constant amusement was reading or walking in the
garden. Yet, according to this authority, her so-
ciety was courted by several families in the neigh-
bourhood who visited her, notwithstanding her sel-
dom returning that attention, and he added that
her manners interested every one who knew her
but she avoided company, and was always melan-
choly save when Swift was there, and then she seemed
happy. The garden was to an uncommon degree
crowded with laurels. The old man said that, when
Miss Vanhomrigh expected the dean, she always
planted with her own hand a laurel or two against his
arrival. He showed her favourite seat, still called
Vanessa's bower: three or four trees and some lau-
rels indicate the spot. They had formerly, according
to the old man's information, been trained into a
close arbour. There were two seats and a rude
table within the bower, the opening of which com-
manded a view of the Liffey, which had a romantic
effect; and there was a small cascade that murmured
at some distance. In this sequestered spot, accord-
ing to the gardener's account, the dean and Vanessa
used often to sit, with books and writing materials
on the table before them.”
After the death of her sister, Vanessa became still
more absorbed by the unhappy passion that con-
sumed her life; and believing herself more neglected
a The only portrait of Stella known is in possession of the
Rev. Mr. Berwick. Dr. Tooke has a lock of her hair, on the
envelope of which is written in Swift's hand-"Only a woman's
hair." Scott observes truly,-"If Stella was dead when Swift
laid apart this memorial, the motto is an additional instance of
his striving to veil the most bitter feelings under the guise of
cynical indifference." Of the sensibility of his feelings under a
rough outside, there are innumerable proofs; and love's poor
victim, Vanessa herself, speaks of the charming compassion
which shone in his countenance as what most captivated hor
aflection, even more than his awe.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lix
sup-
by Swift than before, she resolved to ascertain the
nature of that influence which prevented him from
avowing the affection which she believed he enter-
tained for her. Without giving the least intimation
of her purpose she addressed a letter to Stella, with
a request to be informed of the nature of the ac-
quaintance so long known to exist between her and
the dean. What must have been poor Vanessa's as-
tonishment to hear, in reply, that Swift had bound
himself by the strongest of legal titles to her rival!
while that rival, feeling no less indignant at the
posed intimacy which such an inquiry indicated,
withdrew to the house of Mr. Ford, near Dublin.
At the same time she sent Vanessa's letter to Swift,
who, filled with sudden rage, rode with it to Marley
abbey, and entered the unfortunate lady's room with
a countenance which struck terror into her gentle
and sorrowing heart. It was with difficulty she
faltered out a few words to ask if he would not take
a seat. His sole reply was to throw her own letter
upon the table, and in the same paroxysm of passion
to rush from the room and remount his horse. Upon
receiving this deathblow to all her hopes from one
who is believed to have assured her (July 5th, 1721)
that no person on earth had ever been so loved,
honoured, esteemed, adored by her friend as she
herself, she never more held up her head, and within
three weeks from that fatal moment she died of a
broken heart.
|
says sir W. Scott, "which they (the letters) afford,
seems to amount to this-that while residing in
England for years, and at a distance from Stella,
Swift incautiously engaged in a correspondence with
Miss Vanhomrigh, which probably at first meant
little more than mere gallantry, since the mother,
brother, and sister, seem all to have been confidants
of their intimacy. After his going to Ireland his
letters assume a graver cast, and consist rather of ad-
vice, caution, and rebuke, than expressions of tender-
ness. Yet neither his own heart, nor the nature of
Vanessa's violent attachment, permit him to suppress
strong, though occasional and rare, indications of the
high regard in which he held her, although honour,
friendship, and esteem had united his fate with that
of another. It would perhaps have been better had
their amours never been made public; as that
has however happened, it is the biographer's duty to
throw such light upon them as Mr. Berwick's friend-
ship has enabled him to do, in order that Swift's
conduct, weak and blamable as it must be held in
this instance, may at least not suffer hereafter from
being seen under false and imperfect lights."
For some period subsequent to the death of Miss
Vanhomrigh Swift retired into the south of Ireland,
where he continued several months, the victim of
his own imprudent conduct and violent passions,
without communicating, it is supposed, even with
his dearest friends. His return to Dublin, and his
most unhappy and least creditable portion of "his
strange eventful history," to a close.
It has been already mentioned that Swift had
other declarations of love from anonymous quarters,
still less welcome and expected. It may amuse our
readers to show the kind of impression he had the
misfortune to produce upon the too susceptible hearts
of the fair-so sudden and so opposite to most men's
experience in these matters; and the present case is
the more curious as exhibiting a singular economy
in love on the lady's side, who seems to have been
up and stirring, to utter her fond complaints to her
beloved Jonathan, at four o'clock in the morning.
It is a wonder the dean forgot to give us one of his
inimitable ballads upon this "forlorn hope" of some
fifth or sixth Dulcinea that laid such strong siege to
his implacable affections :—
FROM SACHARISSA TO
It is almost impossible, even under all the extenu-subsequent reconciliation with Stella, bring this, the
ating circumstances of the case, to find language suf-
ficiently strong to denounce Swift's conduct upon this
occasion. However irritating and distressing the
situation in which he found himself, no defence can
be made for the indulgence of passion so violent,
and for the commission of so violent an outrage-for
such it was-upon the feelings of an accomplished
and noble-minded woman, whose sole fault was
loving him "not wisely, but too well," and deserved
at least his utmost tenderness and compassion. The
only extenuation of his stern cruelty that can be
offered is that he was labouring under a species of
distraction, arising from a combination of causes,
and in some part from that morbid sensibility and
irritation of temper which, far from bearing the evils
of life with becoming humility and patience, forming
no part of his character, hurried him into gloom,
misanthropy, and despair, and terminated in con-
firmed insanity. Miss Vanhomrigh died in the 37th
year of her age, and is known to have revoked the
will previously made in favour of Swift, leaving Mr.
Marshall, one of the judges of the common pleas,
and Dr. Berkeley, bishop of Cloyne, her residuary
legatees, after some provision for her servants and
remembrances to her friends. Bishop Berkeley, it
was believed, had destroyed the original MSS. of the
letters given by Mr. Nichols and sir W. Scott, with
the additions by the latter, from the originals in the
possession of Mr. Berwick. Whether Vanessa de-
sired her executors to publish these documents, as
asserted, cannot now be ascertained. Such a cir-
cumstance is not mentioned in her will; but it is in
favour of this supposition that the poem of "Cadenus
and Vanessa” was published not long after her death.
It has been likewise observed that she was very
angry with Swift on account of one of the lines in
particular, "Nor shall the conscious Muse unfold;"
and it cannot be denied that it is objectionable in
whatever view considered; and the more so, perhaps,
as coming from one who appears to have been so
studiously fearful of incurring-though not of placing
himself in a position of doing so-the kind of gallant
reputation to which such an assertion may be
thought to aspire. "The sum of the evidence,"
|
"Thursday morning, four o'clock.
"If I was not thoroughly convinced that the author
of this distracted scroll will for ever be sunk in ob-
livion, I would choose death in any shape before I
would reveal the continual anguish I have suffered,
even before I saw your godlike form; for believe me,
my passion first got birth by perusing your inimita-
ble writings.
"If women were allowed to speak their thoughts, I
would glory in my choice, and spread your fame, if
possible, farther than these narrow limits of the
earth.
"It is my misfortune to be in the care of persons
who generally keep youth under such restraint as
won't permit them to publish their passion though
never so violent, and such I must confess mine for
you to be. Could you conceive the many pangs, the
many different pangs feel, I flatter myself you
would lighten the insupportable burthen of my love
by generously bearing a part. When I consider to
whom I speak, that it is to the divine immortal
Swift, I am confounded at my vanity; but, alas, the
malignity of my disorder is so great that my love
soon gets the better of the regard and homage I
render even to his name; but certain it is, if you
e 2
1x
LIFE AND WORKS OF
don't flatter this absurd but sincere passion of mine,
I must expect death as the just reward of my pre-
sumption; and be assured, if it were any but your-
self, I would cheerfully suffer that before I would
have my passion returned with disdain; and as I ex-
pect no other from you, beg you'll publish it in
'Faulkener's Journal,' under what fictitious name
you please for if I have the least understanding I
shall distinguish your writings, under ever so many
disadvantages, from any other-and inscribe it to
Sacharissa. You may easily imagine with what im-
patience I shall expect Friday: I can't add how
much I am yours till the arrival of my doom.
"SACHARISSA."
Swift, however, owing to the very cause here in-
timated the spontaneous affections of the ladies-
had already too much of the same kind upon his
hands, and most probably felt extremely happy to
decline this new challenge of his fair assailant. Be-
sides, he had other and more important matters, free
at least from the direful consequences so often at-
tending "the beautiful passion," as the French term
it, when love makes his attack from the lady's side;
and in the midst of his multiplied cares and studies,
when the fate of liberty and empire hung in the
balance, in addition to his own fortune and personal
security, he no doubt felt it a comparative heaven
upon earth to be absolved from the claims of those
whose affections he had never courted, and who
would not rest satisfied with the tenderest friendship
and esteem. He might well exclaim with classic
authority, non omnes omnia possumus," which
has been thus paraphrased in a popular song:-
"Do what I will, I cannot wed ye all."
During Swift's residence in Ireland, between the
years 1715 and 1723, when he reappeared on the
political stage in the character of the Drapier, he
kept up an active correspondence with his numerous
connexions in England and elsewhere. The rev.
Dr. Jebb, Dr. Mossom, and Dr. Jinny, in addition
to the familiar circle more near him in Dublin, were
among those for whom the dean entertained a high
esteem, while his renewal of intercourse with Ad-
dison for the remainder of that amiable writer's life
led to his friendship for Mr. Tickell, through whose
influence he was enabled to do so much good, and
in some measure to infuse a better feeling, in regard
to Ireland, into the measures of the new Whig go-
vernment. The more his real views became known
the greater influence did they exert; and this was
more particularly the case as respected church dis-
cipline, and the wise and liberal exercise of his
power over his own chapter, which in time wholly
conciliated the prejudices felt towards him in the
highest quarters, and gained for him the esteem of
those prelates who had most strenuously opposed
him. In the following letter to Dr. Mossom, then
dean of Ossory, he alludes to some of the divisions
which had given rise to considerable anxiety on his
part. It is dated February 14th, 1720-21, and is the
more interesting as throwing light upon the views
and feelings of the dean at that period :-
"When I had the honour of yours of the 8th inst.
I was in very ill health, and am since but slowly
recovering. About five years ago I had some dis-
putes with my chapter upon the occasion of my ne-
gatives, which was never contradicted before; nor
did the members directly do it then, but by some
side-ways of arguing the ill consequences which
might follow if it had no exceptions. This they were
instigated to do by the archbishop of Tuam, who in-
cited the archbishop of Dublin, and who said he had
long entertained an opinion against my negative.
Since that they never contradicted it; and the point
is, as you say, perfectly absurd. I then writ to the
bishop of Rochester and dean of Sarum, who had
been my old friends; the former distinguished be-
tween deaneries of the old and new establishment,
and both of them advised me to make as little stir as
I could. The dean of Sarum said positively that he
had no more power in the chapter than a senior pre-
bendary; that when he was absent the next senior
presided of course, and had only a vote. In this
case, without doubt, time has so ordered it that things
may be done by the dean and chapter, whether the
former consent or no. But you are to understand
that the privileges and powers of the dean of St.
Patrick's depend upon subsequent grants and con-
firmations of popes, parliaments, and kings, and arch-
bishops. Now if your chapter be much older than
Edward IV.'s time, for aught I know you may be on
the foot of St. Patrick's, as that was upon the foot of
Sarum before the subsequent provisions were made.
There is a French act of parliament, Edward IV.,
where it is recited, That whereas the dean of St.
vileges,' &c., so that then they were known. This
Patrick is ordinary, &c., and has such and such pri-
deanery is 503 years old, and several of the dean's
powers were granted in the first, second, and third
centuries after; and the error of my opponents lay
in thinking this deanery was like that of Sarum,
without considering what came after. I believe your
best arguments will be, to insist in general that you
copy after St. Patrick's, and if they allow that, I
will provide you with power and privilege enough.
It is an infallible maxim that not one thing here is
done without the dean's consent. If he proposes, it
is then left to the majority, because his proposal is
his consent. This is as much as I can send you at
present from a giddy, aching head. If you command
any further particulars from me of my practice here,
or any other point wherein I can do you service, you
shall find me ready to obey, and I think there are
few older acquaintances than you and I."
In his correspondence also with Mr. Tickell the
dean expresses his sentiments with the most unre-
served confidence and friendship, and often in a
strain of wit and good humour that showed his "an-
cient fires" were not yet become extinct. "I shall
wait on you," he says (Deanery-house, July, 1724),
"at the time and place you appoint, although it is hard
that your last-comers and lodgers should invite an
old housekeeper, which I would have you to know
I am, and can bring you half-a-dozen men in gowns
to depose it. I shall therefore attend you only on
this condition, that you will be ready to fix a day for
dining at the deanery with lord Forbes and Mr.
Sheridan, because the latter has been heard to boast
that you will condescend to suffer him."
" I
It is evident from the following how much Swift
interested himself, and employed the influence he
possessed with government, to render services to
those whom he considered deserving of them; the
more honourable to him from his being frequently
in a very infirm and suffering state of health.
should have waited upon you before now," he says,
(August 3rd, 1724), "if I had not been tormented
with an old vexatious disorder of a deafness and
noise in my ears, which has returned after having
left me two years, and makes me insupportable to
others and myself.
"I now make bold to trouble you in an affair
which goes very near my heart. Mr. Proby, sur-
geon-general, my old friend, and most generally be-
loved of any man in this kingdom, lies under a great
misfortune at present. His eldest son, a captain in
lord Tyrawley's regiment, has been accused at Gal-
JONATHAN SWIFT.
Ixi
way for discovering an inclination to popery, and
several affidavits have been made against him. The
young man desires nothing but a fair trial. The
accusation is generally judged malicious and false;
but that concerns you not. He is to be tried in a
few days; but the matter must first go before the
lords-justices. Mr. Proby, being utterly unknown
to you, desires the favour to wait upon you either
this afternoon or evening, or early to-morrow morn-
ing. He does not intend this as a solicitation for
his son; he has too much discretion; but as the
business will first come before the lords-justices he
thinks it will be proper for him to wait on you, and
say or ask what is convenient, and thought that my
recommendation will facilitate his access. Therefore,
pray, sir, mistake me not—I am not at all making you
an advocate, but only desiring that he may not see
you wholly as a stranger."
Shortly afterwards Swift had occasion to write to
lord Carteret, then lord-lieutenant, with other appli-
cations of a similar benevolent nature, which he also
addressed through Mr. Tickell, who still held the
official situation obtained through the influence of
his friend Addison. "I desire," he observes (Sept.
4th, 1724)," you will please to send the enclosed.
I beg your pardon for so often troubling you; but I
owed his excellency a letter. I am pretty well eased
of my troublous disorder, and intend to wait on you
soon, and hope you will make some appointment
with those you like best, that we may meet at the
deanery."
The enclosed letter, which does so much honour
both to Swift's heart and judgment, will here form
an appropriate introduction to his connexion with a
wit and scholar, who had the highest opinion of
opinion of
Swift's powers and delighted in his society :-
TO LORD CARTERET.
""
Sept. 3, 1724.
"MY LORD,-Being ten years older than when I
had the honour to see your excellency last, by con-
sequence, if I am subject to any ailments, they are
now ten times worse-and so it has happened. For
I have been this month past so pestered with the
return of a noise and deafness in my ears that I
had not spirit to perform the common offices of life,
much less to write to your excellency, and least
of all to answer so obliging and condescending a
letter as that I received from you. But these ugly ten
years have a worse consequence: that they utterly
destroy any title to the good opinion you are pleased
to express of me, as an amuser of the world and
myself. To have preserved that talent, I ought, as I
grew older, to have removed into a better climate, in-
stead of being sunk for life in a worse. I imagine
France would be properer for me now, and Italy
ten years hence. However, I am not so bad as they
would make me: for since I left England such a
parcel of trash has been fathered upon me, that no-
thing but the good judgment of my friends could
hinder them from thinking me the greatest dunce
alive.
"There is a gentleman of this kingdom just gone
over to England; it is Dr. George Berkeley, dean of
Derry, the best preferment among us, being worth
11007. a-year.
He takes the Bath in his way to
London; and will of course attend your excellency,
and be presented, I suppose, by his friend my lord
Burlington. And because I believe you will choose
out some very idle minutes to read this letter, perhaps
you may not be ill entertained with some account
of the man and his errand. He was a fellow of the
university here; and going to England very young,
about thirteen years ago, he became the founder of
|
a sect there called the Immaterialists, by the force of
a very curious book upon that subject. Dr. Smal-
ridge and many other eminent persons were his pro-
selytes. I sent him secretary and chaplain to Sicily
with my lord Peterborow; and upon his lordship's
return Dr. Berkeley spent some seven years in tra-
velling over most part of Europe, but chiefly through
every corner of Italy, Sicily, and other islands. When
he came back to England he found so many friends
that he was effectually recommended to the duke of
Grafton, by whom he was lately made dean of Derry,
Your excellency will be frighted when I tell you all
this is but an introduction; for I am now to mention his
errand. He is an absolute philosopher with regard to
money, titles, and power; and for three years past has
been struck with a notion of founding an university
at Bermudas, by a charter from the crown. He has
seduced several of the hopefullest young clergymen,
and others here, many of them well provided for,
and all of them in the fairest way of preferment:
but in England his conquests are greater, and I doubt
will spread very far this winter. He showed me a
little tract which he designs to publish; and there
your excellency will see his whole scheme of a life
academico-philosophical (I shall make
you remember
what you were) of a college founded for Indian
scholars and missionaries; where he most exorbi-
tantly proposes a whole hundred pounds a-year for
himself, forty for a fellow, and ten for a student.
His heart will break if his deanery be not taken from
him and left to your excellency's disposal. I dis-
couraged him by the coldness of courts and ministers,
who will interpret all this as impossible and a vision,
but nothing will do. And therefore I humbly en-
treat your excellency either to use such persuasions as
will keep one of the first men in this kingdom for
learning and virtue quiet at home, or assist him by
your credit to compass his romantic design; which,
however, is very noble and generous, and directly
proper for a great person of your excellent education
to encourage.
"I must now in all humility entreat one favour of
you, as you are lord-lieutenant.
Mr. Proby, surgeon
of the army here, laid out the greatest portion of his
fortune to buy a captainship for his eldest son. The
young man was lately accused of discovering an in-
clination to popery while he was quartered in Gal-
way. The report of the court-martial is transmitted
to your excellency. The universal opinion is that
the accusation is false and malicious; and the arch-
bishop of Tuam, in whose diocese Galway is, upon
a strict inquiry has declared it to be so. But all this
is not to sway with your excellency, any more than
that the father is the most universally beloved of any
man I ever knew in his station. But I entreat that
you will please to hear the opinion of others who
may speak in his favour, and perhaps will tell you
'that, as party is not in the case, so you cannot do
any personal thing more acceptable to the people of
Ireland than inclining towards lenity to Mr. Proby
and his family;' although I have reason to be confi-
dent that they neither need nor desire more than
justice: I beg your excellency will remember my
request to be only that you would hear others; and
not think me so very weak as to imagine I could
have hopes of giving the least turn to your mind.
Therefore I hope what I have said is pardonable in
every respect but that of taking up your time.
"My lord, we are here preparing for your reception,
and for a quiet session under your government; but
whether you approve the manner, I can only guess.
It is by universal declarations against Wood's coin.
One thing I am confident of-that your excellency
will find and leave us under dispositions very different
lxii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
toward your person and high station from what
have appeared toward others.
"I have no other excuse for the length of this letter
but a faithful promise that I will never be guilty of
the same fault a second time.”
The preceding letter, with that which follows,
will form no unappropriate introduction to the more
important subject of the "Drapier's Letters," and one
which constitutes so marked an epoch in the life of
the celebrated dean. It is addressed to Mr. Tickell
(Deanery-house, Oct. 24, 1724), and shows how
highly he estimated the character of lord Carteret,
and augured possibly in some degree the relief of
his oppressed countrymen.
"SIR,—I did not design to attend my lord-lieu-
tenant till his hurry of visits and ceremony were over,
but I fear it will be long before I can have that honour,
for I am so cruelly persecuted with the return of my
deafness that I am fit for nothing but to mope in my
chamber. I therefore humbly entreat your favour
to present my most humble duty to his excellency,
and to let him know the unlucky cause that hinders
me from waiting on him, which I apprehend will
yet continue some 'weeks. I have already had but
too much cause to complain of a disorder which
hath so long deprived me of the happiness of your
company. I conclude you are now a busy man, and
shall therefore only add that I am, with great es-
teem, &c."a
a TO MR. TICKELL.
"July 19, 1725.
SIR,-Your whole behaviour, with relation to myself, ever
since I had the honour to be known to you, hath tended ma-
liciously to hinder me from writing or speaking anything that
could deserve to be read or heard. I can no sooner hint de-
my
sire of a favour to a friend but you immediately grant it, on
purpose to load me, so as to put it out of my power to express
my gratitude; and against your conscience you put compli-
ments upon the letter I write, where the subject is only to beg a
favour, on purpose to make me write worse or not at all for the
future. I remember some faint strokes of this unjust proceed-
ing in myself when I had a little credit in the world, but in no
comparison with yours, which have filled up the measure of
iniquity.
"I have often thought it a monstrous folly in us, who are tied
to this kingdom, to have any friendship with vous autres, who
are birds of passage, while we are sure to be forsaken like young
wenches who are seduced by soldiers that quarter among them
for a few months. Therefore I prudently resolved to make no
other use of you than for my present satisfaction, by improving
myself from your conversation, or making use of your interest
to the advantage of my friends. But when you leave us I will,
for my own quiet, send as few sighs after you as I can.
when gods used to come down to earth to converse with females,
it was true judgment in the lady who chose rather to marry an
earthly lover than Apollo, who would be always rambling to
heaven, and, besides, would be young when she was old.
For,
And, to show I am serious in my resolutions, I now entreat
another good office from you, in behalf of a young gentleman,
Mr. James Stopford, a fellow of the college. He is a man of
birth and fortune, but the latter a little engaged by travelling;
and having now as strong temptations to travel again with great
advantage, as governor to a young person, he desires the honour
of being admitted to my lord-lieutenant by your means, with no
other view but the credit that such a reception would give him,
only whispering me (as all men have base ends) that he fore-
sees his excellency, being about his own age, will be always of
so great a consequence in England, as, many years hence, he
may find his account in his lordship's protection and counte-
Ivince.
"He is reckoned the best scholar of his age among us, and
abounds in every amiable quality, without any circumstance to
detract from them, except one, which I hope his travels will
put an end to and that is love.
"In the letter directed to Dr. Delany there is one to Mr. Stop-
ford, who is soon expected in town, and therein I let him know
what I write to you, and direct him to attend you, for which I
humbly desire pardon, as well as for the trouble of sending the
packet to Dr. Delany, aud for teasing you with so long a letter;
which I will conclude with the sincerest profession of being
ever, with great respect,
"Your most obedient and obliged servant,
"J. SWIFT.
"The ladies present their best service and thanks to you for
There can be no stronger proof of the sincerity of
the dean's friendship for Addison, and of his wisdom
your remembrance. Mrs. Johnson has blunted her pickaxe with
work."
TO THE SAME.
"Sept. 18, 1725
"SIR,-You court people have found out the way of vexing
me in all my privacy and monkish manner of living. Here is Mr.
Sheridan perpetually teasing me with complaints, directly in
the style I have often met among state letters, of loss of favour
by misrepresentation, and envy, and malice, and secret enemies,
and the rest of that jargon. I have had share of it myself, and
so I believe have you, and may have more in the course of your
fortune. The worst evil is, that when ill opinions are instilled
into great men they never think it worth their while to be un-
deceived, and so a little man is ruined without the least tincture.
of guilt. And therefore, the last time I was in the world, I re-
fused to deal with a chief minister till he promised me upon
his honour never to be influenced by any ill story of me till he
told it me plainly and heard my defence, after which, if I
cleared myself, it should pass for nothing; and he kept his
word and I was never once in pain. I was the person who re-
commended Mr. Sheridan; but the bishop of Elphin took upon
him to do it in form, and gave it a sanction, and was seconded
by two other bishops, all principled according to your heart's
desire, and therefore his excellency hath nothing to answer for.
I do believe Mr. Sheridan hath been formerly reckoned a Tory,
but no otherwise than hundreds among your favourites, who,
perhaps, grew converts with more zeal, noise, and cunning, but
with less decency. And I hope a man may be a convert with-
out being a renegado; and however the practice is contrary, I
know which of them I should most favour. It is most infallible
by all sorts of reason that Mr. Sheridan is altogether innocent
in that accusation of preaching, but, as he is a creature without
cunning, so he hath not overmuch advertency. His books, his
mathematics, the pressures of his fortune, his laborious calling,
and some natural disposition or indisposition, give him égare-
ment d'esprit, as you cannot but observe; but he hath other good
qualities enough to make up that defect; truth, candour, good-
nature, pleasantness of humour, and very good learning; and it
was upon these regards I was bold to recommend him, because
I thought it was for the general good that he should have some
encouragement to go on in his drudgery. But if it be deter-
mined that party must lay her talons upon him, there is no
more to be said. My lord-lieutenant hath too many great af-
fairs to allow time for examining into every little business, and
yet it is hard that even a beggar should suffer who is wholly in-
nocent. I heard king William say that, if the people of Ire-
land could be believed in what they said of each other, there was
not an honest man in the kingdom. And if Mr. Sheridan
guesses right of the person who is the chief accuser, there is no
man who is not altogether drunk and mad with party would
value the accusation. If, by the clatter made upon this occa-
sion, it should be thought most proper for Mr. Sheridan not to
appear about the castle at this juncture, I believe he will con-
tent himself, but not that he should lose any degree of favour
with his excellency; and if this be the case, I hope you will so
order that my lord will condescend to signify so much to him;
for I know too well how often princes themselves are obliged
to act against their judgment, amidst the rage of factions. Upon
the whole, the good treatment you have given me hath pro-
duced an ill effect, encouraging me to further requests, that you
will endeavour to make Mr. Sheridan easy. None but con-
verts are afraid of showing favour to those who lie under sus-
picion in point of principles; and that was Mr. Addison's are
gument in openly continuing his friendship to me to the very
hour of his death. And your case is the same, and the same I
shall expect from you in a proper degree, both towards Mr.
Sheridan and myself.
"Whether you are in parliament or no, I am sensible you
are too busy at this time to bear such an interruption as I have
given you, and yet I have not said half what I had a mind; my
excuse is, that I have title to your favour as you were Mr. Ad-
dison's friend, and, in the most honourable part, his heir; aud
if he had thought of your coming to this kingdom, he would
have bequeathed me to you.
"I am ever, with true esteem and respect,
"Your most obedient and most humble servant,
"JONATHAN SWIFT."
TO THE SAME.
And if
Deanery-house, November 12, 1725.
"SIR,-I have got slowly out of a feverish disorder that hath
confined me these ten days. I shall dine to-morrow at home,
after a sort, en famille with the two ladies my nurses.
you please to be a fourth, I shall take care that no unacceptable
fifth be of the company; and pray let me know to-night or to-
morrow morning, for as to Sunday. I look on you as a guest
when you please.
"I am your most obedient,
"J. SWIFT."
•
JONATHAN SWIFT.
Ixii!
and magnanimity in forbearing to resent the cap- |
tious jealousy and coolness which, as in the case of
Pope, the author of the Spectator sometimes gave
way to at the expense of justice, than the regard and
esteem thus uniformly shown by Swift to the dearest
friend and the executor of that pleasing writer. He
reaped the reward he most coveted, the power of
serving his friends; and as a just testimonial to
Swift's high mind and honourable motives in this
correspondence, it affords the writer unalloyed plea-
sure to subjoin the remainder of his interesting cor-
TO THE SAME.
[London], April 16, 1726.
"SIR, Though I am to desire a favour of you, yet I was glad
it gave me an opportunity of paying you my respects. I am
here now a month picking up the remnant of my old acquaint-
ance, and descending to take new ones. Your people are very
civil to me, and I meet a thousand times better usage from them
than from that denomination in Ireland.
I can
"This night I saw the wild boy, whose arrival here hath been
the subject of half our talk this fortnight. He is in the keeping
of Dr. Arbuthnot, but the king and court were so entertained
with him that the princess could [not] get him till now.
hardly think him wild in the sense they respect him. Mr.
Arundel is made surveyor of the works, which I suppose you
will hear before you read this.
"I hope I am to give you joy, and I am sure I wish it you; the
reason I trouble you with the enclosed is because it contains a
bill of lading for a picture I have from France, and am afraid it
might miscarry.
You will please to send one of your servants to the person
it is directed to; and accept my excuses.
"I am, with true respect, sir,
"Your most obedient humble servant,
"J. SWIFT.'
TO THE SAME.
"London, July 7, 1726.
"SIR,-I have led so restless, and visiting, and travelling, and
vexatious a life, since I had the honour of your letter, that I never
had humour enough to acknowledge it, though I carried it
wrapped up safely in my pocket. You are now so old a mar-
ried man, that I shall not congratulate with you, but pray
God you may long congratulate with yourself, and that your
situation will make you a tolerable Irishman, at least till you
can make the lady a good Englishwoman, which, however, I
hope will be late. I cannot complain of any want of civility in
your friends the Whigs; and I will tell you freely that most
of them agree with me in quarrelling about the same things. I
have lived these two months past for the most part in the
country, either at Twickenham with Mr. Pope, or rambling with
him and Mr. Gay for a fortnight together. Yesterday my lord
Bolingbroke and Mr. Congreve made up five at dinner at Twick-
enham. I have been very little more than a witness of any
pleasantries you may have seen from London. I am in no se-
dentary way for speculations of any kind, neither do I find
them so ready to occur at this late time of my life. The thing
you mention, which no friend would publish, was written four-
teen years ago at Windsor, and shows how indiscreet it is to
leave any one master of what cannot without the least conse-
quence be shown to the world. Folly, malice, negligence, and
the incontinence in keeping secrets (for which we want a word),
ought to caution men to keep the key of their cabinets.
"As to what you mention of an imaginary treatise, I can only
answer that I have a great quantity of papers somewhere or
other, of which none would please you, partly because they are
very incorrect, but chiefly because they wholly disagree with
your notions of persons and things; neither do I believe it
would be possible for you to find out my treasury of waste
papers without searching nine houses and then sending to me
for the key.
“I find the ladies make the deanery their villa. I have been
told that Mrs. Johnson's health has given her friends bad ap-
prehensions; and I have heard but twice from them. But their
secretary, Dr. Sheridan, just tells me she is much better, to my
great satisfaction. I wonder how you could expect to see her
in a morning, which I, her oldest acquaintance, have not done
these dozen years, except once or twice in a journey. I desire
to present my most humble service to Mrs. Tickell.
"I shall return in a few days to Twickenham, and there con-
tinue till August, at the latter end of which month I propose to
wait on you at the castle of Dublin; for I am weary of being
among ministers whom I cannot govern, who are all rank
Tories in government and worse than Whigs in church;
whereas I was the first man who taught and practised the direct
contrary principle.
"I am, sir, with sincere respect,
Your most obedient humble servant,
"JONATHAN SWIFT."
respondence with Mr. Tickell, who merited the
dean's friendship also on his own account.
During a period of six years from his return to
Ireland, Swift had conscientiously adhered to his
resolution of not interfering with political affairs.
He saw with grief the unhappy causes which ren-
dered his country the most oppressed and desolate
of any known in the civilized world, and he was
heard to declare that it made his flesh creep and his
blood boil to witness the extreme degradation to
which it was condemned by the impolicy and wick-
edness of successive governments. He left no means
untried to remove the disastrous influence that prey-
ed upon its vitals, by arousing the people to a juster
sense of their resources and their rights; he even
overcame his natural repugnance to use his persua-
sions with his political enemies to serve his cause,
while he waited patiently till the extreme violence
of party should have exhausted itself upon stronger
enemies. But in the year 1720 Swift found he
could no longer remain with honour a silent specta-
tor of the course of events. In his "Proposal for the
universal Use of Irish Manufactures" he pointed out
to the people of Ireland that their poverty and dis-
tress were chiefly owing to their own folly, and that
the remedy lay in their own power. He gives an
interesting account of his views and motives in those
lighter publications which ushered in his more re-
nowned letters of the Drapier, to his friend Pope,
the last of that brilliant galaxy of wits left to cheer
the dean in his advancing years, and whom he re-
garded with the tenderest affection. "I have writ-
ten in this kingdom a discourse to persuade the
wretched people to wear their own manufactures,
instead of those from England. This treatise soon
spread very fast, being agreeable to the sentiments
of the whole nation, except of those gentlemen who
had employments, or were expectants. Upon which,
a person in great office here immediately took the
alarm; he sent in haste for the chief-justice and in-
formed him of a seditious, factious, and virulent
pamphlet, lately published with the design of setting
the two kingdoms at variance; directing at the same
time that the printer should be prosecuted with the
utmost rigour of the law. The chief-justice has so
quick an understanding, that he resolved, if possible,
to outdo his orders. The grand juries of the county
and the city were effectually practised with to repre-
sent the said pamphlet with all aggravating epithets,
for which they had thanks sent them from England,
and their presentment published for several weeks
in all the newspapers. The printer was seized and
forced to give great bail.
great bail. After his trial the jury
brought him in not guilty, although they had been
culled with the utmost industry: the chief-justice
sent them back nine times, and kept them eleven
hours, until being perfectly tired out they were
forced to leave the matter to the mercy of the judge,
by what they call a special verdict. During the trial
the chief-justice, among other singularities, laid his
own hand on his breast, and protested solemnly that
the author's design was to bring in the pretender,
although there was not a single syllable of party in
the whole treatise, and although it was known that
the most eminent of those who professed his own
principles publicly disallowed his proceedings. But
the cause being so very odious and unpopular, the
trial of the verdict was deferred from one term to
another, until, upon the duke of Grafton's (the lord-
lieutenant's) arrival, his grace, after mature advice
and permission from England, was pleased to grant a
noli prosequi."
From the manner in which Swift was supported
by popular opinion in this effort to remove one of
Ixiv
LIFE AND WORKS OF
the causes of the people's sufferings, in spite of the
utmost exertions of the Whig party, he was encou-
raged to aim at higher things, and to identify his
future reputation with the triumph of a popular
movement almost unprecedented under the circum-
stances in which Ireland was placed. After taking
signal vengeance upon the chief-justice, and ren-
dering him an object of public indignation, he again
withdrew from the controversial arena, and appears
to have been engaged, both then and subsequently in
England, in bringing to perfection his great master-
piece of fictitious composition-his immortal "Tra-
vels of Captain Gulliver." In this interval, between
1720 and 1724, there does not seem to have been
published a single work known under his name; but
in the latter year an occasion offered, which he
eagerly embraced, of dispersing those clouds behind
which he had so long been concealed, and of ventur-
ing upon a more daring career than he had before
attempted. "The great acquisition of esteem and
influence," says Dr. Johnson, "was made by the
"Drapier's Letters." One Wood, of Wolverhampton,
in Staffordshire, a man enterprising and rapacious,
had, as is said, by a present to the duchess of Mun-
ster, obtained a patent empowering him to coin one
hundred and eight thousand pounds of halfpence
and farthings, for the kingdom of Ireland, in which
there was a very inconvenient and embarrassing
scarcity of copper coin; so that it was possible to
run in debt upon the credit of a piece of money;
for the cook or keeper of an alehouse could not re-
fuse to supply a man that had silver in his hand, and
the buyer would not leave his money without change.
The project was therefore plausible. The scarcity,
which was already great, Wood took care to make
greater by agents who gathered up the old halfpence,
and was about to turn his brass into gold by pouring
the treasures of his new mint upon Ireland, when
Swift, finding that the metal was debased to an enor-
mous degree, wrote letters under the name of M. B.,
Drapier, to show the folly of receiving, and the mis-
chief that must ensue by giving gold and silver for
coin perhaps not a third part of its nominal value.”
There were other and more serious evils that would
have followed the nefarious attempt to enrich an in-
dividual at the expense of an entire nation.
It was
not the debasement of the metal so much as the
wide field opened for the patentee to withdraw the
remaining gold and silver from the already exhausted
land, and to substitute a spurious coin, which must
soon have found its way even to the treasury itself, bring-
ing deserved retribution upon the heads of those who
granted his powers. No security was exacted from
Wood that he would not, like his predecessors, forge
his own coin beyond the stated limits, and inundate
the country with an arbitrary currency of his own.
"The great force," says Mr. Deane Swift, "of the
doctor's reasoning in the character of an Irish drapier,
was not so much levelled against a moderate quantity
of halfpence in general (which it is certain were much
wanted in Ireland in 1724) as against Wood's adul-
terate copper in particular, which was not worth three
halfpence in a shilling, and which might have been
poured in upon the nation from Wood's mint to eter-
nity, as he had neither given security for his honesty
nor obliged himself, like other patentees, to give
either gold or silver in exchange for his copper,
whereas the halfpence (afterwards) sent over to Ire-
land in 1737 were coined in the Tower, by the express
order of the crown, for the conveniency of the king-
dom, &c. &c. However, it is certain that an adver-
tisement of three lines by order of Dr. Swift, had
there been occasion for it, as there was not, would
instantly have stopped their currency."
It might have been added by his ingenious relative
and able commentator that the tacit approbation of
the dean upon this last occasion strongly evinced that
his opposition to the impolitic and disgraceful project
was by no means of a factious nature, or induced by any
interested or ambitious views. Sheridan also declared
that no one in Ireland was consulted upon the sub-
ject, nor was any previous notice given to the lord-
lieutenant. And Swift himself, to place the matter
beyond a doubt, has left it upon record that his ob-
jections to its introduction were founded upon strong
principle-namely, the fraudulent obtaining and exe-
cuting of the patent, the baseness of the metal, and
the prodigious sum to be coined, which might be in-
creased by stealth from foreign importations and his
own counterfeits as well as those at home; "whereby
we infallibly lose all our little gold and silver, and all
our poor remainder of a very limited and discouraged
trade." He likewise asserted in his advertisement
that the sum was five times greater than the occa-
sion required; and in one of his many poems upon
the unlucky patentee he gives vent to his satirical
genius upon the fact of his being committed to gaol
for debt:-
"And over these fillets he wisely has thrown-
To keep out of danger-a doublet of stone."
"For my own part," he observes, "who am but one
man of obscure origin, I do solemnly declare in the
presence of Almighty God that I will suffer the most
ignominious and torturing death rather than submit
to receive this accursed coin, or any other that shall
be liable to the same objections, until they shall be
forced upon me by a law of my own country; and
if that shall even happen, I will transport myself
into some foreign land and eat the bread of poverty
among a free people." "The great ignominy of a
whole kingdom's lying so long at mercy, under so
vile an adversary, is such a deplorable aggravation
that the utmost expressions of shame and rage are
too low to set it forth; and therefore I shall leave it
to receive such a resentment as is worthy of a par-
liament."
The history of the whole affair is so curious that
a brief statement of facts will add greatly to the in-
terest we feel in the dean's unprecedented popularity
and political success. It seems to have begun in
corruption as it must have ended in fraud. The
emoluments from the disposal of the patent were
given by lord Sunderland to the duchess of Kendal,
who sold it to Wood:-
"Such a worm was Will Wood, when he scratch'd at the door
Of a governing statesman or favourite w-re."
The duke of Bolton, then lord-lieutenant, wanted
boldness to bring the project forward; but the duke
of Grafton, his successor, gave his promise to support
it. Walpole, on coming into power, though aware
of the difficulties in the way, permitted the measure
to take its course. Lord Middleton, the Irish chan-
cellor, on the other hand, opposed it; a new quarrel
sprung up between him and the lord-lieutenant,
fomented by the arts of Carteret, who was intriguing
for Walpole's removal. The foolish boasting of Wood
was calculated to embarrass the promoters of the
measure; and to put a climax to the absurdity of all
parties engaged, the patent was granted without be-
ing submitted to the privy council. Discord and dis-
sension soon spread through Ireland on this intelli-
gence, and the duke of Grafton was speedily recalled.
From desire to supplant Walpole he had acted with
the opposition, but was now anxious to bring over lord
Middleton to his views. In this however he failed,
and the patent was ultimately surrendered. To have
forced it upon the people of Ireland, Swift conceived,
would, have proved a deathblow to the independence
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lxv
of the kingdom; and this operated as another in-
centive to strain every nerve to oppose it. But this
argument it was dangerous to avow; and when in his
fourth letter he treated of it simply as an abstract
question, the arm of government was immediately
raised to strike.
Soon after lord Carteret's arrival in Ireland a pro-
clamation was issued offering a reward of 3007. for
the discovery of the author of the fourth "Drapier's
Letter." The printer was imprisoned and a bill of
indictment ordered to be prepared.
Swift upon
""
this came to his friend Harding's relief, with his
short but "Seasonable Advice to the Grand Jury,"
copies of which were distributed to every person of
the jury before the bill, and produced so powerful a
sensation that it was unanimously thrown out. The
chief-justice Whitshed discharged the jury in a rage,
but it availed nothing, for the next that was sum-
moned drew up a strong presentment in support of
the opinions contained in the "Drapier's Letters,
in language still more decisive. The same fate at-
tended various others in different counties; the mea-
sure was soon known to be desperate even in the
eyes of its projectors; and never was national ex-
ultation more loudly expressed at its final rejection.
The drapier was hailed on all sides as the liberator
of his country; his name resounded through the
island; his picture became the favourite sign of
every country inn, was treasured in every house,
and even exhibited and cried about in the streets.
"Whoever," says Sheridan, "examines the 'Dra-
pier's Letters' with attention, will find that the great
talents of Swift never appeared in a more con-
spicuous light than on this occasion. He saw that
a plan was formed by the British minister to bring
his country into the utmost distress. Notwithstand-
ing the apparent opposition given to it by the Irish
parliament and privy council, he knew too well the
servile disposition of all men at that time in office,
and their abject dependence on the minister, to sup-
pose they would continue firm in their opposition
at the certain loss of their places, if he was deter-
mined to carry the point. He saw, therefore, no
possible means of preventing the evil but raising
such a spirit in the whole body of the people as
would make them resolve on no account whatever
to receive this coin. His writings in the character
of a drapier were in such plain language, and in
such an easy series from simple and evident prin-
ciples, as carried the fullest conviction to every mind.
But as it was necessary to his purpose to rouse the
feelings as well as convince the understandings of
mankind, without ever appearing at all to apply to
the passions, he raises them to the highest pitch by
seemingly casual strokes here and there interspersed.
So that the whole, on a transient view, appeared
what it professed to be-the work of an honest shop-
keeper, of plain common sense, who started out of
his sphere to commence writer upon a view of the
imminent danger with which his country was threat-
ened; and who could not now and then suppress
the honest indignation which rose in his breast at
the unparalleled insolence of power in treating a
great and loyal kingdom with such indignity as
would have been thought intolerable even by the
inhabitants of the Isle of Man. Yet plain and simple
as these writings seem to be at first view, and which
as every common reader would imagine he could
produce himself, upon a closer inspection they would
be found to be works of the most consummate skill
and art; and whoever should attempt to perform the
like would be obliged to say with Horace,-
"Sudet multum, frustraque laboret,
Quivis speret idem.'
"Who, while they strive the more success to gain,
Should find their labour and their hopes are vain.'
<
"I remember to have heard the late Hawkins
Browne say that the Drapier's Letters' were the
most perfect pieces of oratory ever composed since
the days of Demosthenes. And indeed upon com-
parison there will appear a great similitude between
the two writers. They both made use of the plainest
words, and such as were in most general use, which
they adorned only by a proper and beautiful arrange-
ment of them. They both made use of the most
obvious topics, which by the force of genius they
placed in a new light. They were equally skilful
in the arrangement and closeness of their arguments;
equally happy in the choice and brevity of their al-
lusions; each so entirely master of his art as entirely
to conceal the appearance of art, so that they seized
on the passions by surprise.
• •
I
"One passage, indeed, is so admirable an instance
of the species of excellence above described as to re-
quire no apology for bringing it here before the
reader. I am very sensible,' he says, in his as-
sumed character, that such a work as I have un-
dertaken might have worthily employed a much
better pen; but when a house is attempted to be
robbed, it often happens that the weakest in the
family runs first to stop the door. All my assistance
were some informations from an eminent person,
whereof I am afraid I have spoiled a few by endea-
vouring to make them of a piece with my own pro-
ductions, and the rest I was not able to manage.
was in the case of David, who could not move in
the armour of Saul; and therefore chose to attack
this uncircumcised Philistine (Wood I mean) with
a sling and a stone. And I may say for Wood's
honour, as well as my own, that he resembles Goliah
in many circumstances very applicable to the pre-
sent purpose: for Goliah had a helmet of brass upon
his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail, and
the weight of the coat was 5000 shekels of brass;
and he had greaves of brass upon his legs, and a
target of brass between his shoulders. In short, he
was like Mr. Wood, all over brass, and he defied the
armies of the living God. Goliah's conditions of
combat were likewise the same with those of Wood:
if he prevail against us then shall we be his servants;
but if it happens that I prevail over him, I renounce
the other part of the condition; he shall never be a
servant of mine, for I do not think him fit to be
trusted in any honest man's shop.'
•
'Nothing," continues his able biographer, "showed
the generalship of Swift in a higher point of view dur-
ing this contest than his choice of ground, both for
attack and defence.
attack and defence. He well knew of what import-
ance it was to steer clear of party, and that, if he
had attacked the British minister as the real author,
promoter, and abettor of this project, he would im-
mediately have been stigmatized with the name of Ja
cobite, and his writings of course disregarded. He
therefore treated the matter all along as if there
were no other parties concerned but William Wood,
hardwareman, on the one side, and the whole king-
dom of Ireland on the other. Nay he went farther;
and finding that Wood in his several publications
had often made use of Mr. Walpole's name, he took
upon him the defence of the latter in several passages
of his fourth letter, which he concludes thus: But
I will now demonstrate beyond all contradiction
that Mr. Walpole is against this project of Mr.
Wood, and is an entire friend to Ireland, only by
this one invincible argument; that he has the uni-
versal opinion of being a wise man, an able minis-
ter, and in all his proceedings pursuing the true in-
terest of the king his master; and that, as his integrity
•
lxvi
LIFE AND WORKS OF
is above all corruption, so is his fortune above all
temptation.' By the use of this irony, a double-
edged weapon which he knew how to manage with
peculiar dexterity, his argument cut both ways. To
the bulk of readers it might pass for a real acquittal
of Mr. Walpole of the charge brought against him,
which would answer one end; and to those of more
discernment it obliquely pointed out the true object
of their resentment; but this so guardedly, that it
was impossible to make any serious charge against
the author of his having such a design.”
Swift was known from this time by the appella-
tion of The Dean. He was honoured by the populace
as the champion, patron, and instructor of Ireland;
and gained such power as, considered both in its ex-
tent and duration, scarcely any man has ever enjoyed
without greater wealth or higher station. He was
from this important year the oracle of the traders
and the idol of the rabble, and by consequence was
feared and courted by all to whom the kindness of
the traders or the populace was necessary. The
Drapier was a sign; the Drapier was a health; and
which way soever the eye or the ear was turned,
some tokens were found of the nation's gratitude to
the Drapier. The benefit was indeed great. He
had rescued Ireland from a very oppressive and pre-
datory invasion; and the popularity which he had
gained he was diligent to keep, by appearing for-
ward and zealous on every occasion when the public
interest was supposed to be involved. Nor did he
much scruple to boast his influence; for when, upon
some attempt to regulate the coin, archbishop Boul-
ter, then one of the justices, accused him of exaspe-
rating the people, he exculpated himself by saying,
"If I had lifted up my finger they would have torn
you to pieces." (Johnson.)
Through the medium likewise of his "Drapier's
Letters," the dean took occasion to declare his real
political opinions from the period when so many im-
portant changes had taken place. They were such as
to dispel every suspicion thrown upon him by his ene-
mies, of his perfect consistency, loyalty, and attach-
ment to the house of Hanover. He expressed both his
contempt and repugnance for the pretender, and suc-
ceeded in removing the prejudices conceived against
him in high quarters, from the idle charge of his being
a secret Jacobite and disaffected to the new succession.
During the publication of his famous letters it is
known that Swift studiously concealed himself from
being known as the author. The only persons at
first cognizant of the fact are said to have been
Robert Blakely, his butler, whom he employed as
his amanuensis, and Dr. Sheridan. Robert not being
greatly experienced in his art, the copies were inva-
riably delivered by him to the doctor, to receive his
corrections before they were sent to the press. They
were then conveyed by the former to the printer in
a manner to prevent any discovery of the authorship,
but it one day happened that Blakely staid out later
than usual; and, as if to give his absence a stronger
appearance of treachery, it was upon the very day the
proclamation was issued offering a reward of 3007.
for the detection of the author of the fourth letter.
The dean ordered the door to be locked at the usual
hour and shut him out. The next morning the poor
fellow appeared before his master with marks of great
sorrow; but Swift would listen to none of his ex-
cuses. He not only rated him soundly, but ordered
him to strip off his livery and quit his house that
moment. "What, you villain!" he exclaimed, "is
it because I am in your power you dare to take these
liberties? Get out of my house, you scoundrel, and
receive the reward of your treachery." It seems that
Stella, then at the deanery, became so much alarmed
|
that she sent off for Dr. Sheridan, who upon his ar-
rival found Robert walking about the hall in great
agitation and shedding abundance of tears.
Upon
inquiry into the cause, he was informed of what had
taken place; and bade the poor fellow not to de-
spair nor leave the house, for that he would pacify
the dean : That is not what vexes me," was Blake-
ly's reply, "though I should be sorry to lose so good
a master; but what grieves me to the soul is that he
should have so bad an opinion of me as to believe
me capable of betraying him for any reward in the
world." This was immediately repeated by Sheri-
|
dan to the dean, who, struck with the generosity of
the sentiment, not only forgave but restored him to
more than his former favour. He took an opportu-
nity also of rewarding him for his good feeling and
fidelity; for the office of verger becoming vacant,
Swift inquired of Robert if he had any clothes that
were not a livery. Being answered in the affirma-
tive, he bade him instantly put them on after strip-
ping his livery. The poor fellow fell on his knees,
requesting to know what new crime he had com-
mitted to deserve such a punishment.
"Well! do
as I order you," was the dean's answer; and upon
Robert again appearing in plain clothes, he sum-
moned the other servants, and informed them they
were no longer to consider him as Robert their fel-
low-servant, but as Mr. Blakely, verger of St.
Patrick's cathedral, a place bestowed upon him as a
reward for his faithful services. But at Mr. Blakely's
particular request, he continued as a volunteer to
officiate also in his old capacity, although the dean
would by no means permit him to assume any badge
of servitude. He also took care that he was remune-
rated for both.
Numerous other anecdotes have been repeated re-
lating to the appearance of the famous Letters, and
the following is given upon the authority of She-
ridan, who received it from a respectable German
merchant (Mr. Hoffslegar), then a resident in Dublin.
There was a full levee held at the castle the day
subsequent to the proclamation against the drapier,
which had already become the general topic of all
circles. The lord-lieutenant was in the act of going
round the circle when the dean abruptly entered the
room, and, pushing his way through the crowd, ad-
dressed the lord-lieutenant-his countenance bearing
marks of the strongest indignation-in a voice that
resounded through the place: "So, my lord, this is a
glorious exploit that you performed yesterday, in
suffering a proclamation against a poor shopkeeper,
whose only crime is an honest endeavour to save his
country from ruin. You have given a noble spe-
cimen of what this devoted nation is to hope for
from your government. I suppose you expect a statue
of copper will be erected to you for this service done
to Wood." The effect of this double meaning and pun
at the same time had an instantaneous effect upon
the risible powers of the fashionable audience; and
it was doubly relished by the lord-lieutenant himself,
both a scholar and a man of taste; but the dean
continued to read him a severe lecture upon the folly
and impolicy of supporting a measure so detrimental
to the best interests of the country. The incipient
mirth of the titled slaves was soon lost in silence and
astonishment at the terrific lashes of Swift's un-
sparing satire; and he is described as awing them
into a sense of their native littleness, like so many
Lilliputians in the presence of the great captain
Gulliver at a court scene. For some moments a
profound silence ensued, when the lord-lieutenant,
who had listened with great composure, made the
following fine and elegant application of Virgil's
line to the case in hand:-
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lxvii
"Res duræ et regni novitas me talia cogunt
Moliri-"
My cruel fate,
And doubts attending an unsettled state,
Force me, "' &c.-
a reply which struck the whole assembly with its ap-
propriate and dexterous use, and without any serious
and severe retort assisted the speaker at the right
moment and in the manner he most wished, especi-
ally in the instance of Swift; and all present equally
extolled the magnanimity of the one, and the just
and forcible reply given by the other in so grave a
matter.
The patent being withdrawn, and all apprehen-
sions as to the introduction of the coin being over,
Swift retired to Quilca, a house of Dr. Sheridan's,
where he spent some months in finishing and pre-
paring his "Gulliver's Travels" for the press. It
was probably with some views regarding its publi-
cation, and from the extreme earnestness with which
his English friends urged him to try the benefit of a
change of air, that in 1726 the dean again visited
England, after an absence of twelve years. He was
received with the most gratifying marks of attention,
for the attachment of those who had previously
known him seemed rather to have increased than
diminished by time. All expressed the warmest
wishes that he would leave Ireland and settle among
them; and several plans are believed to have been
proposed to accomplish this object. Swift had al-
ways considered England as his own country, and
been anxious to make some beneficial transfer of his
Irish interest that would have opened a new sphere
of duties and exertions among the literary and po-
litical connexions he had so early formed; and in
case of succeeding he would have made other ar-
rangements, to which he has already alluded, for
spending a portion of his more advanced years in
France and Italy, though it was his wish to close
his days in England. Unfortunately however, he
was obnoxious to the men in power, though by no
means disliked at court, being exactly the reverse of
the situation in which he stood during the bright
and fleeting days of his political ascendancy.
Upon the present occasion he met with no unfavour-
able reception at Leicester-house. The princess of
Wales, afterwards queen Caroline, was fond of patron-
ising men of genius and science for the sort of reputa-
tion it gave to her station and for the promotion of her
views; and, slight as it was, Swift had no better ground
upon which to raise a hope of future success. Upon
hearing of Swift's arrival in London she intimated
her desire to have an interview with the author of
the "Drapier's Letters ;" and in a letter to his friend
lady Betty Germaine he has left the following ac-
count of it in his own words (1732-3):—“It is six
years last spring since I first went to visit my friends
my friends
in England after the queen's death. Her present
majesty heard of my arrival, and sent at least nine
times to command my attendance before I would
obey her, for several reasons not hard to guess, and,
among others, because I had heard her character
from those who knew her well. At last I went, and
she received me very graciously." The princess ap-
pears to have been struck with the novelty of such
a character; and being highly entertained with his
peculiar vein of humour, "she was never weary,"
"she was never weary,"
says Sheridan, "of sending for him, both in London
and Richmond; while Swift, to keep up his conse-
quence, never once attended her but by command."
Mrs. Howard, first lady of the bedchamber and her
chief favourite, was the person who usually sent for
him. As a lady of fine taste and uncommon under-
standing, she soon contracted a high esteem for Swift,
which was matured into a friendship by the frequent
|
opportunities she had of conversing with him in
company with Pope and Gay, who were her great
favourites. These peculiar marks of esteem and the
evident pleasure taken by the princess in Swift's
society, added to the general conversation respecting
the dean at court, naturally led his friends to con-
clude that the first opportunity would be taken to
make some handsome provision for him in England,
though, from his long experience of courts and his
numerous disappointments, he was himself by no
means sanguine upon the subject.
During this visit to England his time seems to have
been chiefly spent between Twickenham and Daw-
ley, with his friends Pope and Bolingbroke, where
he met the most eminent wits and politicians of the
day. The occasion of his presence was eagerly seized
upon by Pope and Arbuthnot for completing the
volumes of "Miscellanies," the proceeds from which
he generously relinquished to the former; and as this
was the first time that Swift's works were published
collectively in an authentic shape, the sale was im-
mense, and produced a very considerable sum.
'No,
Among other pleasant anecdotes connected with
the dean's visits to England is the following charac-
teristic one, which displays the peculiarities of his
character in a very strong and amusing point of view.
It has the merit of being told also (from Spence),
in the words of Pope himself:-" Doctor Swift," he
says, "has an odd, blunt way that is mistaken by
strangers for ill-nature. 'Tis so odd that there is no
describing it but by fact. I'll tell you one that first
comes into my head.
head. One evening Gay and I went
to see him: you know how intimately we were all
acquainted. On our coming in, 'Hey-day, gentle-
men,' says the doctor, 'what's the meaning of this
visit? How came you to leave all the great lords
that you are so fond of to come hither to see a poor
dean? Because we would rather see you than any of
them.' 'Ay! any one that did not know you so well
as I do might believe you. But since you are come
I must get some supper for you I suppose.'
doctor, we have supped already.' 'Supped already!
that's impossible; why it is not eight o'clock yet.
That's very strange; but if you had not supped I
must have got something for you. Let me see; what
should I have had? A couple of lobsters; ay, that
would have done very well: two shillings-tarts a
shilling: but you will drink a glass of wine with me,
though you have supped so much before your usual
time only to spare my pocket?' 'No: we had rather
talk with you than drink with you.' 'But if you
had supped with me, as in all reason you ought to
have done, you must then have drank with me. A
bottle of wine, two shillings-two and two is four,
and one is five: just two-and-sixpence a piece.
There, Pope; there's half-a-crown for you, and there's
another for you, sir; for I won't save anything by
you, I am determined.' This was all said and done
with his usual seriousness on such occasions; and in
spite of anything we could say to the contrary, he
actually obliged us to take the money." We are in-
formed by Delany also, "that when lady Eustace or
other women of rank joined his table at the deanery,
he used in the same manner to allow them a shilling
a head to provide their own entertainment, and
would stickle hard that only sixpence should be al-
lowed for the brat, as he used to call Miss Eustace,
afterwards married to Mr. Tickell; and from a sense
of justice more refined even than his aversion to
any approach to obligation, when he dined with his
poorer friends he uniformly insisted upon paying his
club, as at a tavern or a house of public resort.”
The popularity it would appear that followed
Swift's frequent interviews, during this visit, with
lxviii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
the princess, at court, drew the attention of the pre-
mier, who entertained no friendly feelings towards
the dean, and between whom there were too many
points of disagreement ever to expect a complete or
cordial co-operation. But as it was the fashion then
to praise the dean for his social qualities and good
nature, Walpole so far chimed in with the popular
feeling as to show his magnanimity in affecting to
forget what he never could forgive-the bitter irony
and artful exhibition of his weak points to public
derision and contempt.
"For never can true reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep."
In another of the dean's letters to lady Germaine
(Jan. 8, 1722-3) he observes, as if the advances had
come from the side of sir Robert, "Walpole was at
that time very civil to me, and so were all the people
in power.
He invited me and some of my friends
to dine with him at Chelsea. After dinner I took
an occasion to say what I had observed of princes
and great ministers, that if they heard an ill thing
of a private person that expected some favour, al-
though they were afterwards convinced that the per-
son was innocent, yet they would never be recon-
ciled. Mr. Walpole knew well enough that I meant
Mr. Gay, but he gave it another turn, for he said
to some of his friends, and particularly to a lord, a
near relation of yours, that I had dined with him,
and had been making apologies for myself.'
6
Subsequent to this polite attention, apparently
with the specious view of throwing odium upon
Swift's character for honour and consistency, sir
Robert appointed another interview with the dean
upon the subject of Irish grievances, and a most un-
generous use also was made by the premier's parti-
sans of this incident, to represent Swift as demeaning
himself by solicitations for his own advantage.
Much has been said also of a letter from Swift, in-
tercepted by sir Robert's spies, containing injurious
reflections upon the premier and admissions of his
own utter want of spirit and principle; and another
letter from a Mr. Roberts is still pointed to as an
authentic document, upon grounds equally strong
and probable. It would be fortunate if we could
always trace such slanders to their source; but the
chief movers are careful to envelop themselves in
mystery, and all that can be done in nine cases out of
ten is to give the statement of the injured party, and
as clear a statement of the facts of the whole pro-
ceeding as the details left on record will admit.
First, it appears that lord Peterborough, in a note
to Swift a little previous to the date of the dean's
letter that follows, observes, "Sir Robert Walpole,
any morning except Tuesday and Thursday, which
are his public days, about nine in the morning, will
On Mon-
be glad to see you at his London house.
day, if I see you, I will give you a farther account."
This interview, through the intervention of his lord-
ship, took place subsequent to Walpole's courteous
invitation of the dean, so that, if he retained any
vindictive feelings, as the savage assaults he and his
friends made upon Swift in the house of commons
indicated, nothing could effect the object of defama-
tion more surely than a private interview, which
left either party to allege whatever he pleased. It
will be only justice to give the version of the party
aspersed, which we are to conclude was made up of
A
"He had written," says Swift, "a very ingenious book of
fables for the use of the princess's younger son, and she had
often promised to provide for him (Gay). But some time be-
fore, there came out a libel against Mr. Walpole, who was in-
formed it was written by Mr. Gay; and although Mr. W. owned
he was convinced that it was not written by Gay, yet he never
would pardon him, and did him a hundred ill offices to the
princess."
a series of ingenious fictions, to cover his own dis-
grace, if we are to credit the allegations made upon
the other side. The letter is addressed to lord Pe-
terborough, two days after the celebrated interview
that, in one moment, according to the minister's par-
tisans, exhibited the great author of the "Drapier's
Letters," the bold, lofty-minded, and consistent
friend of Harley and Bolingbroke, the companion of
Pope and Addison, and the patron of merit and
good conduct wherever he found them, as the mean
toad-eater of a man who hated him—as a renegade,
and the most wretched of drivellers, bent upon stul-
tifying himself. Now what is Swift's own plain,
straightforward narrative of the affair; but, in the
opinion of his traducers, so ingeniously got up as
almost to rival the happy stories of Gulliver himself?
We must also remember that it was written imme-
diately after the interview with sir Robert Walpole :-
<<
7 April 28, 1726.
"MY LORD,-Your lordship having at my request
obtained for me an hour from sir Robert Walpole, I
accordingly attended him yesterday, at eight o'clock
in the morning, and had somewhat more than an
hour's conversation with him. Your lordship was
this day pleased to inquire what passed between
that great minister and me, to which I gave you some
general answers, from whence you said you could
comprehend little or nothing.
"I had no other design in desiring to see sir Ro-
bert Walpole than to represent the affairs of Ireland
to him in a true light, not only without any view to
myself, but to any party whatsoever; and because I
understood the affairs of that kingdom tolerably well,
and observed the representations he had received
were such as I could not agree to; my principal de-
sign was to set him right, not only for the service of
Ireland, but likewise of England and his own ad-
ministration.
"I failed very much in my design; for I saw he
conceived opinions, from the examples of the present
and some former governors, which I could not re-
concile to the notions I had of liberty; a possession
always understood by the British nation to be the
inheritance of a human creature.
"Sir Robert Walpole was pleased to enlarge very
much upon the subject of Ireland, in a manner so
alien from what I conceived to be the rights and
I did not
privileges of a subject of England, that
think proper to debate the matter with him so much
as I otherwise might, because I found it would be
in vain.'
The portion that follows has no relation to his
discourse with Walpole, but consists of an enumera-
tion of the particular grievances under which Ireland
laboured; and the only additional reference is at the
conclusion, where he says, "I most humbly entreat
your lordship to give the paper to sir Robert Wal-
pole, and to desire him to read it, which he may do
in a few minutes.”
But perhaps the strongest of all the testimonies in
favour of Swift is the silence of the members of the
Walpole family, and of their chief biographer, Mr.
Coxe, who, however severe upon the dean in other
respects, stop and falter here, nor dared by adopting
and giving circulation to the calumny to challenge
an investigation of the truth. Sheridan, sir Walter
Scott, and all the most impartial and enlightened
writers who have treated upon this passage of the
dean's history, have arrived at the same conclusion,
not only upon general grounds, but after minute
It will not
and particular investigation of the case.
be uninteresting in so important a matter briefly to
give their views of an affair which in the present
day has produced more impression than it at all de-
1
JONATHAN SWIFT
Ixix
served, and includes parties weak and prejudiced |
enough to note down for posterity the dean of St.
Patrick as a self-convicted renegade and a fool. "I
would have those gentlemen," says Sheridan, "con-
sider, in the first place, what little credit they do to
sir Robert's understanding in declining the assist-
ance of the first writer of the age, at a time when he
was throwing away immense sums upon authors of
mean talents. In the next place, it is to be hoped
that candour will oblige them to retract what they
have said, as so convincing a proof is here produced
of the falsehood of the charge. For it is impossible
to suppose that Swift would have made such a re-
presentation of the interview, utterly disclaiming all
views to himself, and desiring that it might be shown
to Walpole, if the other had it in his power to con-
tradict it, and by so doing render him contemptible
in the eyes of his noble friend, as well as of all his
adherents. I have a letter before me written at that
time to the Rev. Mr. Stopford, then abroad at Paris
(afterwards, through his means, bishop of Cloyne),
in which he gives the same account: 'I was lately
twice with the chief minister; the first time by invi-
tation, the second at my desire, for an hour, wherein
we differed in every point; but all this made a great
noise, and soon got to Ireland. From whence, on
the late death of the bishop of Cloyne, it was said I
was offered to succeed, and I received many letters
upon it, but there was nothing of truth in it; for I
was neither offered nor would have received, except
upon conditions which would never be granted. For
I absolutely broke with the chief minister, and have
never seen him since. And I lately complained of
him to the princess, because I knew she would tell
him.'
"I think it is hardly probable that Swift could
have complained of him to the princess if he had
such a story to tell of him. His complaint cer-
tainly related to Walpole's unjust and impolitic
maxims with regard to Ireland, which was the sole
subject of his discourse. And it appears that he had
often, in his conversations with the princess, repre-
sented the cruel hardships under which that country
groaned, insomuch that in a letter to lady Suffolk
(July 24, 1731) he says, ' Her majesty gave me
leave and even commanded me, above five years
ago, if I lived until she was queen, to write to her
on behalf of Ireland: for the miseries of this king-
dom she appeared then to be concerned.'
"Sir Robert himself never dropped any hint of
this to Swift's friends, but in appearance seemed to
wish him well. In a letter from Pope to him soon
after his departure for Ireland, he tells him, I had
a conference with sir Robert Walpole, who expressed
his desire of having seen you again before you left
us: he said he observed a willingness in you to live
among us, which I did not deny; but at the same
time told him you had no such design in your
coming, which was merely to see a few of those that
you loved; but that indeed all those wished it, and
particularly lord Peterborough and myself, who
wished you loved Ireland less, had you any reason
to love England more.'
"Whoever examines all Swift's letters at that
time will find that he was far from having any am-
bitious views. His wish was to have a settlement
among his friends; and he aimed no higher than to
change his preferments in Ireland for any church-
living near them, that should not be much inferior
in point of income, whether accompanied with any
dignity or not. And this method of commuting
benefices he chose, to avoid laying himself under
any obligations to a party of whose measures he so
utterly disapproved. Of this we have a striking in-
stance in the above-mentioned letter to an intimate
friend, then abroad, to whom a false representation
of his sentiments could have answered no end;
where he declares that he would not accept even of
a bishopric though offered him, except upon con-
ditions which he was sure would never be granted.
In a letter about that time to Mr. Worrall he ex-
presses himself to the same effect:-'As to what
you say about promotion, you will find it was given
immediately as I am told, and I assure you I had
no offers, nor would accept them. My behaviour
to those in power hath been directly contrary since
I came here.'
"Hints and innuendoes were sufficient materials
for Walpole's tools to work upon, and fabricate
what stories they pleased, which were industriously
propagated with the strongest asseverations of their
truth by all their partisans; and this was one fa-
vourite method then in use of undermining those
characters which they could not openly assault.
Of this there was a strong instance given in regard
to William Shippin, the honestest man and truest
patriot that ever sat in the house. When Walpole
found, after repeated trials, that his virtue was proof
against all the offers he could make, it was given
out by his emissaries that he privately received a
pension from him, and that he was permitted to act
the part of a patriot in order to keep his influence
with his party, on certain occasions, that he might
be of more effectual use in matters of greater con-
cern. And this report was so industriously spread,
and with such confidence, that many gave credit to
it during his life. Nor were they undeceived till it
was found that, after his death, this worthy man,
who had lived with the utmost frugality, left no
more behind him than his paternal estate, which
was barely sufficient to entitle him to a seat in par-
liament, and 507. in cash, peculiarly appropriated to
the charges of his funeral."
The following account of this singular interview
from the pen of the distinguished author of
"Waverley" will be read with feeling by all who
know how to reverence genius of the loftiest order,
free from every tincture of envy or malignity,
vindicating pre-eminent and congenial powers of
intellect from the low worldly-minded aspersions
of beings who can imagine no purer or higher
motives of human action than the successful in-
trigues and corruptions of a time-serving minister
can supply. "He never," says sir W. Scott, "as-
sumed, and probably disdained, the character of a
mere man of letters, whose sufferings or enjoyments
depended upon the public reception of his works.
His writings he only valued in so far as they accom-
plished the object for which they were written, and
was so far from seeking the reputation which they
might have attracted to the author, that he almost
in every instance sent them into the world without
his name. Hence he felt no jealousy of contem-
porary authors, and was indifferent to the criticism
with which his treatises were assailed, unless in so
far as it affected the argument which they were de-
signed to support. Bred under Temple, the favourite
of Oxford, and now the champion of Ireland, his
hopes and fears were for 'the political interests which
he espoused; his love was for party-friends, and
his hatred and vengeance for political opponents.
His feelings were those of a statesman, not of an
author, and had been exalted from the cause of a
party to be fixed upon the liberties of a nation. The
pecuniary emoluments of literature Swift seems
never to have coveted. . . . . He was engaged in
matters of more momentous importance.
"We have observed that Walpole, now the omni-
lxx
LIFE AND WORKS OF
}
potent prime minister, had violently assaulted Swift,
in the house of commons, during the ministry of
Oxford. Of this the dean retained no vindictive re-
collection; for during the whole controversy about
Wood's project he treated the character of Walpole
with considerable respect.
Ere the dean
had left that kingdom [Ireland] the primate, Boul-
ter, to whom Walpole chiefly confided the efficient
power in Irish affairs, had written to the English
minister in the following terms :-The general report
is that dean Swift designs for England in a little
time; and we do not question his endeavours to
misrepresent his majesty's friends here, wherever he
finds an opportunity. But he is so well known, as
well as the disturbances he has been the fomenter of
in this kingdom, that we are under no fear of his
being able to disserve any of his majesty's faithful
servants, by anything that is known to come from
him; but we could wish some eye were had to what
shall be attempted on your side the water.' This
was quite enough to put Walpole on his spy and
maligning system, and hence doubtless the insidious
court which he paid the dean, to draw him from the
increasing influence he was acquiring at court, and
attempt to ruin him in the estimation of all parties,
as he had done in other cases where an incorruptible
front was opposed to his threats and bribes.
"Thus prepossessed against all that might come
from the author of the Drapier's Letters,' Walpole
turned a deaf ear to the grievances of Ireland; and
complaining that the king derived little revenue from
that kingdom, proceeded to enlarge upon the opi-
nions which he had adopted from its governors, in a
manner which Swift deemed inconsistent with the
notions of liberty which Britons have ever consi-
dered as the inheritance of a human creature. The
minister and patriot parted on terms of mutual civil-
ity, but without having made the least impression
on each other's opinions.
It need scarce
be remarked that the most brazen effrontery would
not have ventured in such a letter, to be so commu-
nicated (to Walpole), to conceal or misrepresent
what had passed between them; and that the account
so given, and never contradicted, must contain the
genuine record of this remarkable conversation.
"An unworthy use was made of this interview,
and of Swift's having accepted the previous invita-
tion of Walpole; as if he had meant to barter his
principles, and offer the minister the support of his
pen, on condition of his being preferred in Eng-
land. This charge requires a short investigation;
for it was countenanced to a certain extent (not as-
serted) by Walpole, and most zealously promulgated
by his partisans. Had such an offer been made, it
must have been worse than folly in Walpole to re-
fuse the assistance of Swift, while he was expend-
ing very large sums to reward the political treatises
of Arnal and Henley; so that, considering the well-
known sagacity of the minister, as well as his un-
scrupulous mode of charming opposition to silence
by the ready mode of corrupt influence, we may
conclude that the offer not being accepted proves
that it was never made. It is certain, indeed, that
Swift would willingly have received from Walpole
an opportunity of exchanging, and even at consider-
able disadvantage, his Irish deanery for some Eng-
lish living, which might have provided for his usual
expenditure, and placed him for life in England.
But this was uniformly opposed by the prime minis-
ter, not because he disdained to purchase the sup-
port of Swift's pen, but because he had little hopes
of laying him under such a weight of obligation as
might have prevented the risk of its being employed
to his prejudice. Swift had declared he was neither
him.
offered nor would have received preferment, except-
ing on such conditions as would never be given to
This is perfectly consistent with his desire to
exchange the deanery of St. Patrick's for an English
living; a transaction which might have been ar-
ranged on terms of such advantage to his successor
as should lay Swift under no obligation, and leave
his political conduct free and unfettered. If he would
not accept of a bishopric but on his own terms, he
could be hardly supposed to barter his independence
merely to be translated to a worse living in England
than he already possessed in the sister country. And
admitting that Walpole retained no memory of for-
mer quarrels, he may have believed it by no means
his interest to bring Swift to England, unless on
such terms as would have made him entirely his
own. Bolingbroke and Pulteney gave him enough
of disturbance, without their forces being augmented
by the keenest satirical writer of the age, whose
friendships and principles were likely to engage him
against the ministers of George I. Walpole, how-
ever, might have acted more wisely by at once and
generously doing what must have gratified Swift,
and trusting to his sense of justice and honour. It is
certain that Pulteney's civilities had as yet failed to
engage the dean in the politics of England; and in
Swift's reply to the advice which Pope delicately in-
sinuates, deprecating his involving himself in party
disputes, and exhorting him to write only for truth,
honour, and posterity, he seems to acquiesce in its
propriety. But ancient friendship for Bolingbroke
and new causes of resentment against Walpole com-
bined to effect a change of his resolution." (Scott's
"Memoirs," i. 321-3.)
The arguments here adduced, both general and
particular, must, we think, be deemed conclusive
with regard to the nature of the interview between
a Swift and a Walpole; the respective understand-
ings and the characters of the two being submitted
to a fair and impartial investigation.ª
All this however is "sad stuff," as the dean truly
expressed it when inquiring respecting the special
merit of the different coats of arms adopted by his
ancestors, and we are happy to dismiss it "to the
tomb of all the Capulets" in exchange for some better
or pleasanter subjects. Among the characteristic
anecdotes related of Swift's interviews with the
princess, the following shows how greatly the dean
possessed the art of making himself agreeable to
parties of whatever rank, and of placing them in the
position of lord Oxford, who frequently declared that
he was not able to keep anything from him. When
presented at Leciester-house, he said, alluding to the
wild man caught in the woods of Hanover, "that he
understood her royal highness loved oddities; and
that having lately seen a wild boy from Germany,
she was now desirous of seeing a wild dean from
Ireland." The freedom of the dean's address was
well received both by the princess and her consort;
and we have shown, from his first introduction, when
before in England, he was so far a favourite with the
To put a climax to the folly and improbability of so dis-
graceful a charge, an anecdote is related by Sheridan, received
from Dr. Clarke, his tutor in the college, among several others
collected by him relating to Swift :-"When lord Chesterfield
was lord-lieutenant of Ireland he said that to his knowledge
Swift made an offer of his pen to sir R. Walpole; that the terms.
were his getting a preferment in England equal to what he had
in Ireland; and that sir Robert rejected the offer; which lord
Chesterfield said he would not have done had he been in sir
Robert's place." The whole of this transaction seems extremely
improbable, particularly what he added, that the person who
introduced him was the famous Chartres. Good heavens!
Swift brought by the notorious Chartres to prostitute himself to
Walpole; and this asserted by lord Chesterfield. But his lord-
ship kept very bad company in those days; I have not the
least doubt that this story was told him by Chartres.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
Ixxi
princess and every gay and fashionable circle as might
well have authorized more ambitious projects than
he seems ever to have entertained, in the event of his
royal friends and patrons-then no great friends of
Walpole-succeeding, as they would probably do at
no distant period, to the throne. The dean while in
England devoted his leisure moments to the revision
of the MS. of "Gulliver's Travels ;" and was enjoy-
ing himself at Twickenham, in the society of his
old and best beloved friends, in a manner that re-
minded him of the pleasantest epoch of his life;
Bolingbroke had returned from exile; Pope, Ar-
buthnot, Gay, Bathurst, not only received him with
open arms, but brought their most esteemed friends
and connexions to admire and honour him in the
novel character of the patriot of Ireland; when tidings
reached him which threw a damp on all his hopes
and made him silently and sorrowfully withdraw
himself from the intellectual circles of Twickenham
and Dawley.
Yet even
"The pleasure of popularity," says Johnson, "was
interrupted by domestic misery. Mrs. Johnson, whose
conversation was to him the great softener of the ills
of life, began in the year of the drapier's triumph.
to decline, and two years afterwards so wasted
with sickness that her recovery was considered as
hopeless. Swift was then in England, and had been
invited by lord Bolingbroke to pass the winter with
him in France; but this call of calamity hastened
him to Ireland, where perhaps his presence contri-
buted to restore her to imperfect and tottering health."
"His letters on this melancholy subject," says Scott,
"are a true picture of an agonised heart.
the approaching calamity did not prevent his clinging
to his peculiar system; and in a letter to Dr. Stopford
he labours to impress on his correspondent that his
agony at parting with Stella was that of friendship, not
of love. He mentioned her as one of the two oldest
and dearest friends' he had in the world, and only
distinguishes her from her gossiping and common-
place companion Mrs. Dingley as the younger of
the two;' and concludes by conjuring Stopford to
believe that violent friendship is much more lasting
and as engaging as violent love.' His letter to
Sheridan contains more deep and unrestrained ex-
pressions of anguish :- The account you give me is
nothing but what I have for some time expected with
the utmost agonies. I look upon this to be the greatest
event that can ever happen to me; but all my exertions.
will not suffice to make me bear it like a philosopher,
nor altogether like a christian. Judge in what a
temper I write this. The very time I am writing I
conclude the fairest soul in the world hath left its
body. I have been long weary of the world, and
shall for my small remainder of days be weary of
life, having for ever lost that conversation which
could only make it tolerable.'"
Swift set out for Ireland in the month of August,
and was received on his arrival with the honours due
to the liberator of the people from the worst of
slavery that of receiving their small pittance in a
depreciated currency of halfpence and farthings while
their oppressors enrich themselves with the silver and
the gold. Nor was this the sole boon that does immor-
tal honour to his memory; he taught them by union.
and success the secret of their inherent power and
future regeneration, to which the efforts of more modern
patriots, for whom he prepared the way, are only as
dust in the balance. His entry into Dublin was like a
triumphal procession; and he was escorted amidst the
ringing of bells, the blaze of bonfires, and the sounds
of feux-de-joie, by a body of the most respectable
citizens to the very doors of his deanery. This was
the rich reward he most coveted, and that which gave
it an additional zest was the partial recovery of his
beloved friend, for whose sake he had left the social
delights he was enjoying in England; he appeared
for the moment reanimated with the glow of his
happiest days, and it was remarked by his friends
that his own health partook of the grateful change.
We observe likewise a more happy and healthy tone
in his correspondence, and he was at the same time not
unpleasingly excited by watching the effect produced
by his "Gulliver's Travels," brought out anony-
mously early in the ensuing November.
He had as
usual preserved a strict silence with regard to the
authorship; he had not mentioned it to a single
friend during his visit to England; some of the most
knowing and judicious were thrown off the right
scent, but Pope, Gay, and Arbuthnot (doubtless well
aware of the fact) were soon heard to declare that
it must be aut Erasmi aut Diaboli. They all three
wrote to him upon the subject, but in guarded terms,
as well perhaps to avoid committing either the author
or themselves as to humour the mystery and to try
in what manner he would be inclined to treat their
suggestions as to its real paternity. As there runs
a vein of unaffected pleasantry throughout the
whole of it, and it throws the best light upon the
author's views and the character of the work, we
shall give portions of the correspondence before pro-
ceeding to make observations upon its merits and
peculiarities. In one of these letters (Nov. 17, 1726)
Gay addresses him as follows: "About ten days ago a
book was published here of the Travels of one Gulliver,
which has been the conversation of the whole town
ever since the whole impression sold in a week;
and nothing is more diverting than to hear the differ-
ent opinions people give of it, though all agree in
liking it extremely. "Tis generally said that you are
the author; but I am told the bookseller declares he
knows not from what hand it came. From the highest
to the lowest it is universally read; from the cabinet
council to the nursery. You may see by this that
you are not much injured by being supposed the
author of this piece. If you are, you have disobliged
us, and two or three of your best friends, in not
giving us the least hint of it. Perhaps I may all this
time be talking to you of a book you have never seen,
and which has not yet reached Ireland; if it have not,
I believe what we have said will be sufficient to re-
commend it to your reading, and that you will order
me to send it to you."
"I have resolved," writes his friend Pope (Nov.
16, 1726), “to take time; and in spite of all mis-
fortunes and demurs which sickness, lameness, or
disability of any kind can throw in my way, to write
you (at intervals) a long letter. My two least fingers
of one hand hang impediments to the other, like
useless dependants, who only take up room, and
never are active or assistant to our wants: I shall
never be much the better for them. I congratulate
you first upon what you call your cousin's wonder-
ful book, which is publica trita manu at present, and
I prophesy will be hereafter the admiration of all
men. That countenance with which it is received
by some statesmen is delightful: I wish I could tell
you how every single man looks upon it, to observe
which has been my whole diversion this fortnight.
I have never been a night in London since you left
me till now for this very end, and indeed it has fully
answered my expectations
"I find no considerable man very angry at the
book; some indeed think it rather too bold, and
too general a satire; but none that I hear of accuse
it of particular reflections (I mean no persons of
consequence or good judgment; the mob of critics
you know always are desirous to apply satire to
Ixxii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
those they envy for being above them), so that you
needed not to have been so secret upon this head.
Motte received the copy (he tells me) he knew not
from whence, nor from whom, dropped at his house
in the dark from a hackney coach; by computing
the time I found it was after you left England, so
for my part I suspend my judgment.
"I am pleased with the nature and quality of
your present to the princess. The Irish stuff you
sent to Mrs. Howard her royal highness laid hold
of, and has made up for her own use. Are you de-
termined to be national in everything, even in your
civilities? You are the greatest politician in Europe
at this rate; but as you are a rational politician
there is no great fear of you, you will never suc-
ceed."
If you
and upon that by two circles form an equilateral
triangle; then measuring each side you will find
the proper quantity and proper division.
want a more particular and better rule, I refer you
to the academy of Lagado.ª
to the academy of Lagado. I am of opinion many
in this kingdom will soon appear in your plaid. To
this end it will be highly necessary that care be
taken of disposing of the purple, the yellow, and the
white silks; and though the gowns are for princesses
the officers are very vigilant; so take care they are
not seized. Do not forget to be observant how you
dispose the colours. I shall take all particular pre-
cautions to have the money ready, and to return it
the way you judge safest. I think it would be
worth your reflecting in what manner the checker
might be best managed.
The passages relating to the work from the pen of
"The princess will take care that you shall have
Arbuthnot are of a playful turn, and describe very
pumps sufficient to serve you till you return to Eng-
happily the impression it made at court and every-land, but thinks you cannot, in common decency,
where else, and must have been extremely gratifying
to the author:-
"I will make over all my profits to you for the
property of Gulliver's Travels,' which, I believe,
will have as great a run as John Bunyan. Gulliver
is a happy man, that at his age can write such a
merry work.
"I made my lord archbishop's compliments to
her royal highness, who returns his grace her thanks;
at the same time, Mrs. Howard read your letter to
herself. The princess immediately seized on your
plaid for her own use, and has ordered the young
princesses to be clad in the same. When I had the
honour to see her she was reading Gulliver, and was
just come to the passage of the hobbling prince,
which she laughed at. I tell you freely the part of
the projectors is the least brilliant. Lewis grumbles
a little at it, and says he wants the key to it, and is
daily refining. I suppose he will be able to publish
like Barnevelte in time. I gave your service to lady
Harvey. She is in a little sort of a miff about a
ballad that was writ on her to the tune of Molly
Mog, and sent to her in the name of a begging poet.
She was bit, and wrote a letter to the begging poet,
and desired him to change two double entendres,
which the authors, Mr. Pulteney and lord Chester-
field, changed to single entendres. I was against
that, though I had a hand in the first. She is not
displeased, I believe, with the ballad, but only with
being bit."
Another, from the dean's friend Mrs. Howard, d
written with great humour and spirit, gives a striking
picture of the intense interest and general attention
which the appearance of so strange and inimitable
a production then excited :-
"November, 1726.
"I did not expect that the sight of my ring would
produce the effect it has. I was in such a hurry to
show your plaid to the princess that I could not stay
to put it into the shape you desired. It pleased ex-
tremely, and I have orders to fit it up according to
the first design; but as this is not proper for the
public, you are desired to send over, for the same
princess's use, the height of the Brobdingnag dwarf
multiplied by 23. The young princesses must be
taken care of; theirs must be in three shares for a
short method you may draw a line of twenty feet,
Probably archbishop King, of Dublin.
11
b The dean sent a present of some silk plaids from Ireland to
some of the royal family and to Mrs. Howard.
This refers to "A Key to the Lock; or a Treatise proving
beyond all Contradiction the dangerous Tendency of a late
Poem, entited the Rape of the Lock, to Government and Reli-
gion. By Esdras Barnevelt, apothecary.”
Indorsed" November, 1726. Answered 17th.”
appear in heels, and therefore advises your keeping
close till they arrive. Here are several Lilliputian
mathematicians, so that the length of your head, or
of your foot, is a sufficient measure. Send it by the
first opportunity. Do not forget our good friends
the 500 weavers. You may omit the gold thread.
Many disputes have arisen here whether the big-
endians and lesser-endians ever differed in opinion
about the breaking of eggs, when they were to be
either buttered or poached? or whether this part of
cookery was ever known in Lilliput?
"I cannot conclude without telling you that our
island is in great joy; one of our yahoos having
been delivered of a creature, half ram and half
yahoo; and another has brought forth four perfect
black rabbits. May we not hope, and with some
probability expect, that in time our female yahoos
will produce a race of Houyhnhnms? I am, sir,
your most humble servant,
"SIEVE YAHOO.”d
The dean, not a little pleased at the reception of his
book, and quite in his element, took infinite delight
in watching its progress and the effect of its strong
political satire and humorous strictures upon princes
and ministers: while still affecting mystery he replied
in the same spirit to the observations of his friends,
keeping up the ball with unfeigned gaiety, and with
equal dexterity and good humour:-
TO MRS. HOWARD.
"November 17, 1726.
"MADAM,-When I received your letter I thought
it the most unaccountable one I ever saw in my life,
and was not able to comprehend three words of it to-
gether. The perverseness of your lines astonished
me, which tended downward to the right in one
page, and upward in the two others. This I thought
impossible to be done by any one who did not squint
with both eyes; an infirmity I never observed in
you. However, one thing I was pleased with, that
after you had writ down you repented, and writ me
up again. But I continued four days at a loss for
your meaning, till a bookseller sent me the 'Travels'
of one captain Gulliver, who proved a very good
explainer, although at the same time I thought it
hard to be forced to read a book of seven hundred
pages in order to understand a letter of fifty lines;
especially as those of our faculty are already but too
↑ See "
Gulliver's Travels.”
"In "Gulliver's Travels" high and low heels are made the dis-
tinction of political parties.-Whig and Tory were alluded to in
this familiar metaphor.
• An impostor called Mary Tofts put such a trick upon the
public.
d Sieve is a name given by Swift, in "Gulliver's Travels," to a
court lady.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
Ixxiii
"Dublin, November 17, 1726.
"I am just come from answering a letter of Mrs.
Howard's, writ in such mystical terms that I should
never have found out the meaning if a book had not
been sent me called Gulliver's Travels,' of which
you say so much in yours. I read the book over, and in
the second volume observed several passages which
appear to be patched and altered,a and the style of a
different sort, unless I am mistaken. Dr. Arbuthnot
likes the projectors least; others, you tell me, the
flying island; some think it wrong to be so hard
upon whole bodies or corporations, yet the general
opinion is, that reflections on particular persons are
most to be blamed: so that in these cases I think
the best method is to let censure and opinion take
their course. A bishop here said that book was full
of improbable lies, and for his part he hardly believed
a word of it; and so much for Gulliver.
"Going to England is a very good thing, if it were
not attended with an ugly circumstance of returning
to Ireland. It is a shame you do not persuade your
ministers to keep me on that side, if it were but by
a court expedient of keeping me in prison for a
plotter; but at the same time I must tell you that
such journeys very much shorten my life, for a month
here is longer than six at Twickenham.
"How comes friend Gay to be so tedious? Another
man can publish fifty thousand lies sooner than he
can publish fifty fables.
"I am just going to perform a very good office; it
is to assist with the archbishop in degrading a par-
son who couples all our beggars, by which I shall
make one happy man, and decide the great question
of an indelible character in favour of the principles
in fashion; this I hope you will represent to the
ministry in my favour as a point of merit; so fare-
well till I return.
much pestered with commentators. The stuffs you
require are making, because the weaver piques him-
self upon having them in perfection. But he has
read Gulliver's book, and has no conception what
you mean by returning money; for he has become a
proselyte of the Houyhnhnms, whose great principle,
if I rightly remember, is benevolence; and as to
myself, I am so highly offended with such a base
proposal, that I am determined to complain of you
to her royal highness that you are a mercenary yahoo,
fond of shining pebbles. What have I to do with
you or your court, further than to show the esteem I
have for your person, because you happen to deserve
it; and my gratitude to her royal highness, who was
pleased a little to distinguish me? which, by the way,
is the greatest compliment I ever paid, and may pro-
bably be the last; for I am not such a prostitute
flatterer as Gulliver, whose chief study is to extenu-
ate the vices and magnify the virtues of mankind,
and perpetually dins our ears with the praises of his
country in the midst of corruption, and for that
reason alone has found so many readers, and proba-
bly will have a pension, which I suppose was his
chief design in writing. As for his compliments to
the ladies, I can easily forgive him, as a natural
effect of the devotion which our sex ought always to
pay to yours. You need not be in pain about the
officers searching or seizing the plaids, for the silk
has already paid duty in England, and there is no
law against exporting silk manufacture from hence.
I am sure the princess and you have got the length
of my foot, and sir Robert Walpole says he has the
length of my head, so that I need not give you the
trouble of sending you either. I shall only tell you,
in general, that I never had a long head, and for that
reason few people have thought it worth while to
get the length of my foot. I cannot answer your
queries about eggs, buttered or poached, but I pos-
sess one talent which admirably qualifies me for
roasting them; for as the world with respect to eggs
is divided into pelters and roasters, it is my unhap-hanged, only desired that when he was to go to the
piness to be one of the latter, and consequently to
be persecuted by the former. I have been five days
turning over old books to discover the meaning of
those monstrous births you mention. That of the
four black rabbits seems to threaten some dark court
intrigue, and perhaps, some change in the adminis-
tration; for the rabbit is an undermining animal
that loves to walk in the dark. The blackness de-
notes the bishops, whereof some of the last you
have made are persons of such dangerous parts and
profound abilities: but rabbits, being clothed in
furs, may perhaps glance at the judges. However,
the rar-by which is meant the ministry-butting
with his two horns, one against the church, and the
other against the law, shall obtain the victory. And
whereas the birth was a conjunction of ram and
yahoo, this is easily explained by the story of Chi-
ron, governor, or, which is the same thing, chief
minister, to Achilles, who was half man and half
brute; which, as Machiavel observes, all good go-
vernors of princes ought to be. But I am at the
end of my line, and my lines. This is without a
cover, to save money, and plain paper, because the
gilt is so thin it will discover secrets between us.
In a little room for words I assure you of my being,
with truest respect, madam, your most obedient
humble servant,
"JONATHAN SWIFT."
The next, to his friend Pope, while it rallies the sub-
ject admirably, is full of the dean's best humour, and
partakes of the fire as well as the wit of his earlier
productions.
VOL. I.
"I am come back, and have deprived the parson,
who, by a law here, is to be hanged the next couple
he marries; he declared to us that he resolved to be
gallows the archbishop would take off his excom-
munication. Is not he a good catholic? and yet he
is but a Scotchman. This is the only Irish event I
ever troubled you with, and I think it deserves no-
tice. Let me add, that if I were Gulliver's friend I
would desire all my acquaintance to give out that
his copy was basely mangled, and abused, and added
to, and blotted out, by the printer; for so to me it
seems, in the second volume particularly. Adieu."
However whimsical all this affected mystery at first
appears, it was in perfect keeping with Swift's avowed
resolution of sending his works secretly into the
world to make their own way; nor would he consider
himself accountable, or when called upon admit the
authorship, as he has himself stated, with the exception
of having been on one occasion surprised into the
avowal from feelings of pique and vanity; and the
letter to lord Oxford upon the English language, to
which, as to most other letters, he affixed his name.
It is known that he took singular pleasure in hearing
the various opinions of the world—as in the cases of
"Prior's Journey to Paris," and other pieces,—while
he read his own productions and remained unsus-
pected, which he called a bite, and the doubts of
Pope and Gay on many occasions must have afforded
him no small entertainment. "This extraordinary
work," says Sheridan, "bearing the stamp of such
an original and uncommon genius, revived his fame
in England, after so long an absence, and added new
a See the introductory letter from Gulliver to his cousin
Simpson.
b Because he understood it to be intended as a satire on the
Royal Society.
f
Ixxiv
LIFE AND WORKS OF
lustre to his reputation." "Perhaps no work," says
sir W. Scott, "ever exhibited such general attractions
to all classes. It offered personal and political satire
to the readers in high life, low and coarse incident
to the vulgar, marvels to the romantic, wit to the
young and lively, lessons of morality and policy to
the grave, and maxims of deep and bitter misanthropy
to neglected age and disappointed ambition. The
plan of the satire varies in the different parts. The
Voyage to Lilliput refers chiefly to the court and
politics of England, and sir Robert Walpole is
plainly intimated under the character of the premier
Flimnap, which he afterwards probably remem-
bered to the prejudice of the dean's view of leaving
Ireland. The factions of high-heels and low-heels
express the factions of Tories and Whigs; the small-
endians and big-endians, the religious divisions of
papist and protestant. And when the heir apparent
was described as wearing one heel high and one low,
the prince of Wales, who at that period divided his
favour between the two leading political parties,
laughed very heartily at the comparison. Blefescu
is France, and the ingratitude of the Lilliputian
court, which forces Gulliver to take shelter there
rather than have his eyes put out, is an indirect re-
proach upon that of England, and a vindication of
the flight of Ormond and Bolingbroke to Paris.
The scandal which Gulliver gave to the empress, by
his mode of extinguishing the flames in the royal
palace, seems to intimate the author's disgrace with
queen Anne, founded upon the indecorum of the
Tale of a Tub,' which was remembered against
him as a crime, while the service which it had ren-
dered the high church was forgotten. It must also
be remarked that the original institutions of the
empire of Lilliput are highly commended, as also
their system of public education; while it is inti-
mated that all the corruptions of the court had been
introduced during the three last reigns. This was
Swift's opinion concerning the English constitu-
tion.
•
"In the Voyage to Brobdingnag the satire is of a
more general character; nor is it easy to trace any
particular reference to the political events or states-
men of the period. It merely exhibits human
actions and sentiments as they might appear in the
apprehension of beings of immense strength, and, at
the same time, of a cold, reflecting, and philosophical
character. The monarch of these sons of Anak is
designed to embody Swift's ideas of a patriot king,
indifferent to what was curious, and cold to what
was beautiful, feeling only interest in that which
was connected with general utility and the public
weal. To such a prince, the intrigues, scandals,
and stratagems of an European court are represented
as equally odious in their origin and contemptible
in their progress. A very happy effect was also
produced by turning the telescope, and painting Gul-
liver, who had formerly been a giant among the
Lilliputians, as a pigmy amidst this tremendous
Some passages of the court of Brobding-
nag were supposed to be intended as an affront
race.
•
a The Lilliputian treasurer's fall from the tight rope, which
was broken by one of the king's cushions, seems to intimate
Walpole's resignation in 1717, when he was supposed to be
saved from utter disgrace by the interest of the duchess of Ken-
dal. The ridicule thrown upon the orders of knighthood by
the nobles leaping over a stick for the decorations of the blue,
red, and green threads, is principally aimed at Walpole, who,
to enlarge this class of honours and rewards, revived the order
of the Bath as a preliminary step to that of the Garter. Upon
that occasion the dean wrote some lines, now published for the
first time, which conclude with the idea more fully brought out
in the Travels to Lilliput:-
And he who'll leap over a stick for the king
Is qualified best for a dog in a string.
|
upon the maids of honour,& for whom Delany informs
us that Swift had very little respect.
"The Voyage to Laputa was disliked by Arbuthnot,
who was a man of science, and probably considered
it as a ridicule upon the Royal Society; nor can it be
denied that there are some allusions to the most
respectable philosophers of the period. An occasional
shaft is even said to have been levelled at sir Isaac
Newton. The ardent patriot had not forgotten the
philosopher's opinion in favour of Wood's halfpence.
Under the parable of the tailor who computed Gul-
liver's altitude by a quadrant, and took his measure
by a mathematical diagram, yet brought him his
clothes very ill made and out of shape, by a mistake
of a figure in the calculation, Swift is supposed to
have alluded to an error of sir Isaac's printer, who,
by carelessly adding a cipher to the astronomer's
computation of the distance between the sun and
the earth, had increased it to an incalculable
amount. Newton published in the 'Amsterdam
Gazette' a correction of this typographical error,
but the circumstance did not escape the malicious
acumen of the dean of St. Patrick's. It was also
believed by the dean's friends that the office of flap-
per was suggested by the habitual absence of mind
of the great philosopher. The dean told Mrs. D.
Swift that sir Isaac was the worst companion in the
world, and that if you asked him a question he
would revolve it in a circle in his brain, round and
round and round, (here Swift described a circle on
his own forehead,) before he could produce an an-
swer.b
"The Voyage to the Land of the Houyhnhnms is a
composition which an editor of Swift must ever con-
sider with pain. The source of such a diatribe against
human nature could only be that fierce indignation
which he has described in his epitaph as so long
gnawing at his heart. Dwelling in a land where he
considered the human race as divided between petty
tyrants and oppressed slaves, and being himself a
worshipper of that freedom and independence which
he beheld daily trampled upon, the unrestrained vio-
lence of his feelings drove him to loathe the very
species by whom such iniquity was done and suf-
fered.
fered. To this must be added his personal health,
broken and worn down by the recurring attacks of a
frightful disorder; his social comfort destroyed by
the death of one beloved object and the daily decay
and peril of another; his life decayed into autumn;
and its remainder, after so many flattering and ambi-
tious prospects, condemned to a country which he
disliked, and banished from that in which he had
formed his hopes and left his friendships;-when
all these considerations are combined, they form
some excuse for that general misanthropy which
never prevented a single deed of individual benevo-
lence. Such apologies are personal to the author;
but there are also excuses for the work itself. The
picture of the Yahoos, utterly odious and hateful as
it is, presents to the reader a moral use.
It was
never designed as a representation of mankind in
the state to which religion, and even the lights of
a" I well remember his making strange reports of the phrase-
ologies of persons about the court, and particularly of the
maids of honour, at the time of that visit to England."-Delany's
Remarks. The letters of the beautiful and lively Miss Bellen-
den, lately published in the Suffolk Papers, certainly vindicate
the dean's censure.
b The dean used also to toll of sir Isaac, that his servant hav
ing called him one day to dinner, and returning after waiting
some time, found him mounted on a ladder placed against the
shelves of his library, a book in his left hand, and his head
reclined upon his right, sunk in such a fit of abstraction that he
was obliged, after calling him once or twice, actually to jog him
before he could awake his attention. This was precisely the
office of the flapper.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lxxv
nature, encourage men to aspire; but of that to
which our species is degraded by the wilful subser-
vience of mental qualities to animal instincts of man,
such as may be found in the degraded ranks of every
society when brutalised by ignorance and gross vice.
In this view, the more coarse and disgusting the
picture, the more impressive is the moral to be de-
rived from it, since, in proportion as an individual
indulges in sensuality, cruelty, or avarice, he ap-
proaches in resemblance to the detested Yahoo."
(Scott's "Memoirs," &c., vol. i. 333-7.)
between the Latin and English churches as not
more important than that between the big-endians
and little-endians. Projects for something like a
union between the churches were not unfrequently
made at the time; and the chances of success for a
season seemed far from desperate. The prince of
Wales, afterwards George II., was believed not to be
indisposed to a union of parties, as is intimated by
the heir-apparent of Lilliput wearing one shoe with
a high and the other with a low heel. All these ex-
pectations were disappointed; but when the 'Travels'
the nation generally looked for great advantages
from their realization. The political views advocated
in Lilliput were therefore generally popular; they
gratified the entire body of the Tories, the discon-
tented section of the Whigs, and the great multitude
which in every free state looks for Utopian advan-
tages from the mere fact of change.
"This important year," says Johnson, "sent like-appeared they were rife in every political circle, and
wise into the world' Gulliver's Travels,' a produc-
tion so new and strange that it filled the reader with
a mingled emotion of merriment and amazement. It
was received with such avidity that the price of the
first edition was raised before the second could be
made; it was read by the high and the low, the
learned and illiterate. Criticism was for a while
lost in wonder; no rules of judgment were applied
to a book written in open defiance of truth and regu-
larity. But when distinctions came to be made, the
part which gave the least pleasure was that which de-
scribes the Flying Island, and that which gave most
disgust must be the history of the Houyhnhnms.”
"a
"In Brobdingnag the satire takes a wider range-
the object of assault is changed from the tactics of a
party to the general system of policy. Like Boling-
broke, Swift attempts to sketch the ideal character of
a patriot king and an efficient system of government.
The fiction is very happily suited to the design: the
opinions which beings of a reflective and philosophic
character, endowed with immense force, were likely
to form of the intrigues and scandals of a European
court, are developed with exquisite skill. It is a man
viewing the political squabbles of an ant-hill, or
Gulliver himself estimating the court of Lilliput. The
political principles advocated in the Voyage to Brob-
dingnag were the same as those which the Tory
party supported in parliament. From the imperfec-
from the influence of the cry of Jacobitism with
which the Whig leaders assailed their opponents,
we have only very imperfect specimens of Shippen,
Windham, St. Aubin, &c.; but even the fragments
which have been preserved prove that the Tory
party in the reign of George I. was highly respect-
able in character, talent, and fearless advocacy of
principle." ("Biographical Notice," pp. 35-37.)
Nothing can be more interesting than to give
the views of the most celebrated biographers and
commentators of Swift upon a production in every
light so important as that of "Gulliver's Travels,"
upon which his fame as a writer of fiction
which gives him a rank with Cervantes, Fielding,
Le Sage, Smollett, and Marivaux-so broadly rests.
It is for this reason we are inclined to dilate rather
more upon it than any other single production from
the same pen; for we feel assured that, with all histion of the parliamentary reports in these days, and
skill and ability in political controversy, had the fame
of Swift depended upon temporary topics, or even
upon his humorous satirical poems, he would have
appeared like one of his own Lilliputians, a sort of
pigmy among the giants of genius which the reigns
of Anne and George I. produced. "The Voyage to
Lilliput," observes an able and distinguished com-
mentator upon "Gulliver's Travels," "is an exposure
of the policy of the English court during the reign
of George I. Swift and his friends were persuaded
that the treaty of Utrecht had been the salvation of
Great Britain-that it had especially secured the
naval superiority, and effectually prevented France
from rivalling us at sea. He therefore regarded the
impeachment of Oxford and the banishment of Bo-
lingbroke as gross acts of national injustice, at-
tributable chiefly to the ambition and jealousy of
Walpole, whom he stigmatised under the name of
Flimnap. The more minute political allusions are
pointed out in the notes; it will be more convenient
here to confine attention to generalities. Walpole
had many enemies, even in the nominal Whig party
who professed themselves adherents to the prince of
Wales: these persons, aware that they could not of
themselves form an administration, projected a coa-
lition with the Tories, or, as they called them, the
party of the country gentlemen. In the language
of the day, they hoped to form a broad-bottom
ministry; they affected to describe the differences
between the parties in principle as very trifling, not
greater than that between the high-heels and low-
heels of Lilliput; and as appeals had been made to
religious prejudices, they represented the controversy
A new edition by W. C. Taylor, LL.D. of Trinity college,
Dublin, with copious notes, a life of the author, and an essay
on satirical fiction, and enriched with upwards of 400 wood
engravings from designs by Grandville. In his estimate of
Swift's genius and peculiarities we are happy to agree with a
writer so esteemed and so acute as Dr. Taylor, but from his
views of the dean's life and character we entirely dissent.
That the Voyage to the Land of the Houyhnhnms
is inferior as a work of art to those which precede it
is a general opinion expressed by nearly all Swift's
biographers and commentators. But it seems not to
have been distinctly seen that the author's object
was not so much to depict mankind as to expose their
corruption and degeneracy-to point out as a warning
the extent of that wretchedness and depravity to which
the violent and continued passions, and the allure-
ments of ambition, pleasure, and criminal designs,
may impel them. At the same time it must be ad-
mitted that the picture is overcharged, and the
condemnation of too sweeping and unsparing a
character."Where is the sense of a general satire,"
says Warburton, "if the whole species be dege-
nerated; and where is the justice of it, if it be not?"
Voltaire, who was in England at the time when
"Gulliver's Travels" appeared, spread their fame
among his correspondents in France, and the abbé
Desfontaines undertook a translation, which suc-
ceeded extremely with the French public. He even
ventured on the bold step of making a continuation,
"Le Nouveau Gulliver;" and another, which ap-
peared as the third volume of the "Travels," in 1727,
was printed from a French work called "L'Histoire
des Sévérambes;" ascribed to a M. Alletz, though
Bayle had written the "History of the Severambians,"
a sort of republican novel, which Mandeville trans-
lated into English, and which surpasses the "Sethos"
of Terasson, or the "Gaudentio di Luca" of the
Italian. That Swift was in some measure indebted
lxxvi
LIFE AND WORKS OF
to preceding works of this kind, as well as to Rabe-
lais, little doubt we think can be entertained; and
a copy of the French Lucian, as he has been called,
with Swift's MS. notes, is known to have been sold
at the sale of his books in 1745. At a later period
of his life Swift is stated to have undertaken a re-
vision of "Gulliver's Travels," and to have made
some bitter additions wherever the law or its pro-
fessors are mentioned. The copy in which these
emendations were madea came into the possession of
Mr. Theophilus Swift, and from him passed into the
hands of the bishop of Ossory; but it is confidently
believed that all or most of the alterations have been
transferred to the latter editions, so as to have be-
come only a matter of literary curiosity.
|
pectations of Swift and his friends were doomed to
be disappointed; and to give his own feelings on
this important occasion we extract another passag"
from his letter to Dr. Sheridan (Jan. 24, 1727):
"The talk is now for a moderating scheme, wherein
nobody shall be used worse or better for being called
Whig and Tory; and the king hath received both
with great equality, showing civilities to several who
are openly known to be the latter. I prevailed with
a dozen that we should go in a line to kiss the king's
and queen's hands. We have now done with re-
pining, if we shall be used well, and not baited as
formerly; we all agree in it, and if things do not
mend it is not our faults; we have made our offers;
if otherwise we are as we were. It is agreed the
ministry will be changed; but the others will have
a soft fall; although the king must be excessive
generous if he forgives the treatment of some people."
Swift adds, in a letter to lady Betty Germaine,
that upon this occasion he was particularly distin-
correct idea of the money-power and low court tact
of Walpole, was very speedily shown by the result.
His baneful star still held the ascendant; and not-
withstanding the coarse, offensive language, too gross
to be repeated, applied to the new queen when
princess, he was reinstated in all his offices, and
appeared with a new skin, more sleek and glossy
than before.
In a little time, however, Swift entertained less.
sanguine expectations, as appears from the following
passage in one of his letters to the same friend
(July 1, 1727):-" Here are a thousand schemes.
wherein they would have me engaged, which I em-
braced but coldly, because I liked none of them."
It was to be regretted that Swift's newly-acquired
popularity, however it may have gratified him for a
moment, tended little to soothe the increasing irri-
tability of his mind. His last reception in England
rather added to it by having revived his almost ex-
piring hopes of obtaining a settlement in that king-guished by the queen; but that he had not formed a
dom-"where," as he observes in a letter to Gay,
"he had passed the best and greatest part of his
life, where he had made his friendships and left his
desires." With this view he kept up a correspond-
ence with Mrs. Howard, of whose situation he
availed himself to pay civilities to the princess of
Wales, who had expressed some wish to promote
his removal. "I desire," he says, in his usual frank
but dictatorial tone, you will order her royal
highness to go to Richmond as soon as she can this
summer, because she will have the pleasure of my
neighbourhood; for I hope to be in London by the
middle of March, and I do not love you much when
you are there." Having left Mrs. Johnson in a
somewhat improved state of health, Swift accord-
ingly arrived once more in England about the period
he mentioned. The princess received him with her
usual complacency; but the coolness of Walpole,
as might be expected, had now assumed a more de-
cided character than before. In a letter to his
friend Sheridan he observes, "I have at last seen
the princess twice this week by her own command;
she retains her old civility, and I my old freedom.
. . . . I am in high displeasure with Walpole and his
partisans. A great man who was very kind to me
last year doth not take the least notice of me at
the prince's court, and there has not been one of
them to see me." Swift, however, does not express
his surprise at this change, easy enough to be ac-
counted for in a great minister and a court whose
minister and a court whose
adherents had been represented in so unfavourable
a light in some passages of his late work-without
seeking other causes of this unhappy enmity, which
not only shut the door of promotion, but of com-
fort and consolation under broken health and de-
clining years. For some time past the dean enter-
tained a design of spending a short time in France
for the recovery of his health, and is said to have
been upon the point of carrying it into execution,
when the death of the king, and an expected change
of measures, induced him to postpone it. The Tories
having, upon the breach between the late king and
the prince, been well received at Leicester-house, it
was supposed they would at all events come in for a
share of the royal favour. But once more the ex-
• From all that can be ascertained, this copy is probably the
same as the one mentioned by Mr. Crofton Croker as having
fallen into the hands of a London bookseller of the name of
Booth, but the original MSS. of nearly all the dean's other
works are now in the possession of Mr. Edmund Swift, the son
of Theophilus Swift, to the last of whom sir W. Scott was so
greatly indebted for much new and valuable matter. Though
little or nothing of an original character remains in the hands
of the present Mr. Swift, the editor in many other respects is
proud to acknowledge his obligations to him.
Having at the same time been afflicted with some
return of his disorder, he renewed his intention of
visiting the continent; but he soon again changed
his mind, being persuaded, he says, by certain per-
sons with great vehemence, whom he could not dis-
obey. He alludes to lord Bolingbroke and his
friend Mrs. Howard, "There would not be com-
mon sense,” wrote the former, "in your going into
France at this juncture, even if you intended to stay
there long enough to draw the sole pleasure and
profit which I propose you should have in the ac-
quaintance I am ready to give you there. Much
less ought you to think of such an unmeaning jour-
ney, when the opportunity of quitting Ireland for
England is, I believe, fairly before you." Of the
interview also between himself and Mrs. Howard
he gives an interesting account: "In a few weeks
after the king's death I found myself not well, and
was resolved to take a trip to Paris for my health,
having an opportunity of doing it with some advan-
tages and recommendations. But my friends ad-
vised me first to consult Mrs. Howard, because, as
they knew less of courts than I, they were strongly
prepossessed that the promise made me might suc-
ceed, since a change was all I desired. I writ to
her for her opinion; and particularly conjured her,
since I had long done with courts, not to use me
like a courtier, but give me her sincere advice, which
she did, both in a letter and to some friends. It was
by all means not to go; it would look singular,
and perhaps disaffected;' and my friends enlarged
upon the good intentions of the court towards me.
Even the small hopes he still seems to have clung to
from this source were destined, like so many before
them, to be blasted in the bud. He might, by con-
tinuing upon the spot, and his frequent interviews
with Mrs. Howard and the queen, have ultimately
succeeded with them to propitiate Walpole, and
have negotiated an exchange of preferments without
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lxxvii
character throughout life, he is said to have refused
minds that reverence and godly fear that becomes all those who
come into thy presence.
any mean compliance or compromise of his prin- | yet, with the singular contradiction that marked his
ciples. But a new attack of his frightful disorder,
and accounts of Mrs. Johnson's sudden relapse,
totally disqualified him for pursuing his views,
and hurried him back, in a state of wretched grief
and disappointment, to his old residence in Ireland.
He took leave of the queen in a polite letter to Mrs.
Howard, explaining why it was he was not able to
do so in person :-"I am infinitely obliged to you
for all your civilities, and shall retain the remem-
brance of them during my life. I hope you will
favour me so far as to present my most humble duty
to the queen, and to describe to her majesty my sor-
row that my disorder was of such a nature as to
make me incapable of attending her as she was
pleased to permit me. I shall pass the remainder
life with the utmost gratitude for her majesty's
my
favours," &c.
of
Swift's distress of mind at this period seems to have
been poignant in the extreme. His usual mode of
salutation in taking leave of his dearest friends for
years before his death partook of that melancholy
"May God bless
eccentricity so peculiar to him.
you!" he said; "I trust that we shall never meet
again!" than which perhaps no stronger proof was
ever given of a deep-seated and pervading grief of
heart and soul.
"I beg," he writes to Dr. Sheridan,
in expectation of Stella's death, "if you have not
written before you get this, to tell me no particulars,
but the event in general: my weakness, my age, my
friendship, will bear no more." In another letter
"We know, O Lord, that while we are in these bodies we are
absent from the Lord, for no man can see thy face and live.
The only way that we can draw near unto thee in this life is by
prayer; but, O Lord, we know not how to pray, nor what to
ask for as we ought. We cannot pretend by our supplications
or prayers to turn or change thee, for thou art the same yester-
day, to-day, and for ever; but the coming into thy presence,
the drawing near unto thee, is the only means to be changed
ourselves, to become like thee in holiness and purity, to be fol-
lowers of thee as thy dear children. O, therefore, turn not
away thy face from us, but let us see so much of the excellen-
cies of thy divine nature, of thy goodness, and justice, and
mercy, and forbearance, and holiness, and purity, as may make
us hate everything in ourselves that is unlike to thee, that so
we may abhor and repent of and forsake those sins that we so
often fall into when we forget thee. Lord! we acknowledge
and confess we have lived in a course of sin, and folly, and vanity,
from our youth up, forgetting our latter end, and our great ac-
count that we must one day make, and turning a deaf ear to thy
many calls to us, either by thy holy word, by our teachers,
or by our own consciences; and even thy more severe mes-
sages, by afflictions, sicknesses, crosses, and disappointments,
have not been of force enough to turn us from the vanity and
folly of our own ways.
What then can we expect in justice,
when thou shalt enter into judgment with us, but to have our
portion with the hypocrites and unbelievers? to depart for ever
from the presence of the Lord; to be turned into hell with those
that forget God? But, O God, most holy ! O God, most mighty!
O holy and most merciful Saviour! deliver us not into the bitter
pains of eternal death, but have mercy upon us, most merciful
Father, and forgive us our sins for thy name's sake; for thou
hast declared thyself to be a God slow to anger, full of good-
ness, forbearance, and long-suffering, and forgiving iniquity,
transgression, and sin. O Lord, therefore show thy mercy
O let it be in pardoning our sins past, and in chang.
upon us.
he says,
with all the suspense of a man who expected to hear
the worst news that fortune could give him, and at
the same time was not able to hold up my head.
These are the perquisites of living long: the last act
of life is always a tragedy at best; but it is a bitter
aggravation to have one's best friend go before one.
What have I to do in this world? I never was in
such agonies as when I received your letter, and had
it in my pocket. I am able to hold up my sorry
head no longer." And in a letter to his old ac-
quaintance Mr. Stopford he observes, with his pe-
culiar discrimination between the eventful epochs of
human life," I think there is not a greater folly
than that of entering into too strict and particular a
friendship, with the loss of which a man must be
absolutely miserable; but especially at an age when
it is too late to engage in a new friendship. Be-
sides, that was a person of my own rearing and in-
structing from childhood, who excelled in every
good quality that can possibly accomplish a human
creature. Dear James, pardon me. I know not
what I am saying; but believe me that violent
friendship is much more lasting and as much en-
gaging as violent love."
I kept your letter an hour in my pocket ing our natures, in giving us a new heart and a new spirit, that
On the dean's arrival he found this beloved friend
in the last stage of decay. He had the sorrow of
watching over her in this state, of marking day
by day and hour by hour (as he had done in his
diary of Temple's decline) the gradual approaches
of death for a period of five months. He did all
that lay in his power-consistent with his strangely
adopted resolution in one particular-to smoothe the
pillow of departing life; he gave his time, his con-
solation-he sat by, soothed, and prayed with her ;^
• AN EVENING PRAYER BY DEAN SWIFT,
COMPOSED DURING THE SICKNESS OF STELLA.
"Ou! Almighty God, the searcher of all hearts, and from whom
no secrets are hid, who hast declared that all such as shall draw
nigh to thee with their lips when their hearts are far from thee
are an abomination unto thee; cleanse, wo beseech thee, tho
thoughts of our hearts, by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit,
that no wandering, vain, nor idle thoughts may put out of our
we may lead a new life, and walk before thee in newness of
life, that so sin may not have dominion over us for the time
to come. O let thy good Spirit, without which we can do no-
thing, O let that work in us both to will and do such things as
may be well pleasing to thee. O let it change our thoughts
and minds, and take them off the vain pleasures of this world,
and place them there where the only true joys are to be found.
O fill our minds every day more and more with the happiness
of that blessed state of living for ever with thee, that we may
make it our great work and business to work out our salvation,
-to improve in the knowledge of thee, whom to know is life.
eternal. But, Lord, since we cannot know thee but by often
drawing near unto thee and coming into thy presence, which
in this life we can do only by prayer, O make us therefore
ever sensible of these great benefits of prayer, that we may re-
joice at all opportunities of coming into thy presence, and may
ever find ourselves the better and more heavenly-minded by it,
and may never wilfully neglect any opportunity of thy worship
and service. Awaken thoroughly in us a serious seuse of these
things, that so to-day, while it is called to-day, we may see and
know the things that belong to our peace, before they be hid
from our eyes-before that long night cometh when no man can
work. O that every night may so effectually put us in mind of
our last, that we may every day take care so to live as we shall
then wish we had lived when we come to die; that so, when
that night shall come, we may as willingly put off these bodies
as we now put off our clothes, and may rejoice to rest from our
labours, and that our war with the world, the devil, and our
own corrupt nature is at an end. In the mean while, we be-
seech thee to take us, and ours, and all that belongs to us, into
thy fatherly care this night. Let thy holy angels be our guard,
while we are not in a condition to defend ourselves, that we may
not be under the power of devils or wicked men ; and preserve
us also, O Lord, from every evil accident, that, after a comfort-
able and refreshing sleep, we may find ourselves, and all that
belongs to us, in peace and safety. And now, O Lord, being
ourselves still in the body, and compassed about with infirmi-
ties, we can neither be ignorant nor unmindful of the suffer-
ings of our fellow-creatures. O Lord, we must acknowledge
that they are all but the effects of sin; and therefore we be-
seech thee so to sanctify their several chastisements to them,
that at length they may bring forth the peaceable fruits of
righteousness, and then be thou graciously pleased to remove
thy heavy and afflicting hand from them. And O that the rest
of mankind, who are not under such trials, may by thy good-
ness be led to repentance, that the consciences of hard-hearted
sinners may be awakened, and the understandings of poor ig-
norant creatures enlightened, and that all that love and fear
thee may ever find the joy and comfort of a good conscience
beyond all the satisfactions that this world can afford. And
now, blessed Lord, from whom every good gift comes, it is meet,
right, and our bounden duty, that we should offer up unto thee
our thanks and praise for all thy goodness towards us, for pre-
lxxviii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
the expiring being whom he so much loved the poor
consolation of being considered as his wife, and of
preserving her reputation from the slightest breath
of future scandal by being permitted to die within
the deanery-the spot which, if she were indeed mar-
ried to one whose friendship was so fatal to her sex,
she had a right to consider her own home. He is even
stated to have given directions to Dr. Sheridan and
Mr. Worrall that she might not be removed thither,
because it would be improper, and evil-minded per-
sons might put a bad interpretation upon it. Nay,
it has been placed on record that within a few days
of her dissolution, in the presence of Dr. Sheridan,
she entreated Swift, in the most pathetic terms, to
grant her dying request. Swift, it is added, made no
reply, but, turning on his heel, walked silently out
of the room, and never saw her more. Indignant,
we are told, at this barbarity, she however summoned
sufficient fortitude to make her will, by which she
bequeathed her whole fortune, by her own name, to
charitable uses.
Swift's whole plan of life was now changed, and
all his domestic comforts vanished. Although he
still continued to complain of living in a nation o
slaves, his anxiety for removing appears in a great
measure abated. Overwhelmed as he was with
private griefs and disappointments, as a public cha-
racter it was not in his nature to despond; and by
those who knew him best he is stated to have di-
rected his future cares and exertions to the relief of
the indigent, to the endowment of charities, and
to the support of the injured and oppressed. He
moreover resumed his pen; he exposed in a great
variety of publications the causes of the distresses
under which Ireland laboured, at the same time re-
commending to the British government the means
by which they might be removed. He promoted
the usefulness of the best public charities that ever
were planned; and in obedience to the great scrip-
ture truths he gave largely to the poor, and created
a fund purposely to advance the interests of small
tradesmen, and those who from unavoidable causes
stood in need of temporary accommodation to
rescue them from ruin. Even to the poorest he was
a friend, and from those who would borrow "he
turned not away;" and not a few anecdotes are
mentioned which convey an idea of his eccentricity
in the least matters. The dean was accustomed to
give money to several necessitous persons whose
serving peace in our land, the light of thy gospel, and the true
religion in our churches; for giving us the fruits of the earth in
due season, and preserving us from the plague and sickness that
rages in other lands. We bless thee for that support and main-
tenance which thou art pleased to afford us, and that thou
givest us a heart to be sensible of this thy goodness, and to re-
turn our thanks at this time for the same; and as to our per-
sons, for that measure of health that any of us do enjoy, which
is more than any of us do deserve. We bless thee, more particu-
larly, for thy protection over us the day past; that thy good
spirit has kept us from falling into even the greatest sins,
which, by our wicked and corrupt nature, we should greedily
have been hurried into; and that, by the guard of thy holy
angels, we have been kept safe from any of those evils that
might have befallen us, and which many are now groaning under
who rose up in the morning in safety and peace as well as we.
But above all, for that great mercy of contriving and effecting
our redemption, by the death of our Saviour Jesus Christ, whom,
of thy great love to mankind, thou didst send into this world,
to take upon him our flesh, to teach us thy will, and to bear the
guilt of our transgressions, to die for our sins, and to rise again
for our justification; and for enabling us to lay hold of that
salvation, by the gracious assistances of thy Holy Spirit. Lord,
grant that the sense of this wonderful love of thine to us may
effectually encourage us to walk in thy fear and live to thy
glory, that so, when we shall put off this mortal state, we may
be made partakers of that glory that shall then be revealed,
which we beg of thee for the sake of thy Son Jesus Christ, who
died to procure it for us, and in whose name and words we do
offer up the desires of our souls unto thee, saying,
"Our Father &c."
|
history he knew, and whom he met in his walks.
With his ready wit he used to give to each the name
most appropriate to her condition, means of liveli-
hood, and some peculiarity of manner, or even bodily
infirmity. He would accost them as Cancerina,
Stumpanympha, Pallagowna, Floranella, Stumpan-
thea, &c.; and in one of his letters he says,
cerina is dead, and I let her go to her grave too
without a coffin." He relieved them while living.
"Can-
His
With a liberal and generous disposition towards
others, Swift observed a plan of strict economy and
even of self-denial in regard to himself and those
elegancies and luxuries he might have commanded.
He paid off with conscientious punctuality the heavy
charges on his induction, and others relating to the
deanery, which he left far more flourishing than he
found it; and afterwards dividing his income into
three parts, he devoted one to his domestic expenses;
the second to a provision against the accidents of
life, to go into some charitable foundation at his
death;
and the third in charities to the poor and
distressed. It is asserted by Sheridan that many
families in Dublin now living in great credit owed
the foundation of their fortunes to the sums first
borrowed from the dean's charitable fund. Small
as the spring was, yet, by continual flowing, it
watered and enriched the humble vale through which
it ran, still extending and widening its course.
reputation for wisdom and integrity was so great
that he was consulted by several corporations
in regard to trade; and they were happy who
could obtain him for an umpire in their decisions.
From his sentence there was no appeal: he had
an eye to remove all public nuisances, and his
strict vigilance and extended information in great
measure supplied a city police. He maintained his
remarkable ascendancy over the mind and temper
of the Irish people, and was universally recognised
as a sort of pope or spiritual ruler by the title of The
Dean. His extraordinary reputation gave him the
power of a censor-general, and he made it as for-
midable and more useful than that of ancient Rome.
Whatever the dean said or did was received without
question as infallibly right; and we may judge of
the strange impression of his power from a passage
in a letter from the lord-lieutenant himself (Carteret),
in which he says (March 24, 1732), “I know by
experience how much the city of Dublin thinks it-
self under your protection, and how strictly they
used to obey all orders fulminated from the so-
vereignty of St. Patrick's." In the postscript also
to another letter he says (March 24, 1736), "When
people ask me how I governed Ireland, I say that
I pleased Dr. Swift." It is at this period that the
genuine qualities of the dean's mind-as in his more
prosperous political day, when, instead of arrogance
and conceit, the virtues of religious humility, com-
passion, and beneficence, shone so conspicuous-
appeared in their native force and brilliancy. He
had resigned all ambitious views; he knew that
Walpole was bitterly exasperated against him for
the satirical severity of his poems, especially the
"Epistle to a Lady," and a " Rhapsody on Poetry;"
besides that terrific character of the statesman in an
"Account of the Court and Empire of Japan;" add
to which some forged letters (like so many others
springing doubtless from the paid hirelings of Wal-
pole) in favour of Mrs. Barber, bearing the dean's
signature, and which strongly excited the queen's dis-
pleasure. It is singular that, in the position in which
the parties stood, with Walpole's known enmity
and consequent jealousy of Swift's influence with
the queen, or at least the pleasant understanding
existing between them, his different biographers
JONATHAN SWIFT.
Ixxix
his apprehension, and being conducted to England to
take his trial.
should have agreed in attributing the forgeries to less
interested quarters. Sir W. Scott is thus of opinion
that Pilkington was the originator of them with a
similar view, while Mr. Croker is inclined to thinking,
that Barber was the forger; but when we recall to
mind the affair of the intercepted letter, and the
base views attributed to Swift from the same source,
suspicion naturally falls on him who had most to
gain by calumniating so formidable an adversary,
whose dreadful bolts would be rendered innocuous
if the "Jupiter Fulminans" was levelled with the
earth.
But vast as was now the dean's popularity, sur-
passing all that he had attained in England, it was
in Ireland chiefly confined to the middle and lower
classes; and hence probably his well-known maxim,
"that the little virtue left in the world is chiefly to
be found among the middle rank of mankind, who
are neither allured out of her paths by ambition nor
driven by poverty." Though a sound churchman,
he had the greatest reverence for civil freedom, with
unfeigned hatred of the base trickeries of the court
and government of that venal day, when a queen
deigned, for a ministerial bribe, to return an answer
to the man who had heaped on her the most oppro-
brious terms that would now be thought to disgrace
a common prostitute. But the better class to which
the dean alluded he could govern as with a silken
thread; while by the populace he was revered al-
most as a being of superior order. If inclined to be
mischievous, or engaged in a squabble or skirmish,
the approach of the dean was sufficient to scatter
the most refractory, without either civil or military
aid; and more than once a mob was seen to disperse
like schoolboys at the sight of their master, who, as
he himself said, if he had lifted up his little finger,
would have torn his enemy to pieces. With regard
to the higher class, as it is termed, he is said to
have looked upon them as wholly incorrigible, and
latterly he refused to hold further intercourse with
them except upon some unavoidable business. He
declares he had little personal acquaintance with
any lord spiritual or temporal in the kingdom; he
regarded the members of the existing house of com-
mons as a set of needy venal prostitutes, who sacri-
ficed principle, character, and the interests of their
country to the lure of the tempter of their avarice
and ambition. With these, as he vowed at the out-
set of his career, he carried on a perpetual war,
striking deep into their corrupt mass the stings of
his keen, relentless satire, which being enabled only
to return with secret hatred and vengeance, they re-
taliated upon him by every species of obloquy they
could invent. During the dean's life, however, he
uniformly made them repent their folly; and we are
presented with some exquisitely amusing details of
the last campaign of this glorious old assertor of Ire-
land's liberties with corrupt sycophants, tyrant mi-
nisters, and a prostituted court.
The royal personages themselves affected to con-
sider the refined irony with which he held up the
court proceedings to scorn and ridicule, in a literal
sense; and, aware how ill and ungratefully the great
patriot had been treated by a corrupt and brutal go-
vernment and how well they had merited resentment,
wisely pocketed the compliment as it stood. But it
was different with Walpole, who, lashed into rage by
the dean's resistless strokes repeated upon the ten-
derest parts of his character, resolved to retort by the
only means he had in his power. He had the editor,
printer, and publishers of the two poems all arrested;
and prosecutions were immediately commenced.
Possessing evidence that Swift was the author, he
conceived he should at last be able to wreak his full
vengeance; and ordered a warrant to be made out for
|
The messenger is said to have been ready in wait-
when, fortunately perhaps for both parties, a
friend of Walpole, well acquainted with the state of
Ireland, being informed of his intention, inquired
what army was to accompany the messenger, and
whether he could conveniently spare ten thousand
men at that moment; for no less a number would
succeed in bringing the Drapier a prisoner out of
that kingdom. Walpole, it is added, upon this re-
covered his senses, and was induced, with some re-
luctance, to abandon his design.
"Had the poor
fellow," says Sheridan, "attempted to execute his
commission, he would most assuredly have been
hanged by the mob; and this might have involved
the two countries in a contest which it was by no
means the interest of a minister to engage in."
The obnoxious poems, it seems, were sent to Mrs.
Barber, then in London, by Pilkington, in order that
she might turn them to the best account she could,
being at that time in distressed circumstances. He
also obtained from the dean letters of recommenda-
tion to alderman
-, lord-mayor elect, by whom
in consequence of such recommendation he was ap-
pointed city chaplain. Yet this man had the baseness
to turn informer, says Sheridan, against his benefactor
as the author, and Mrs. Barber as the editor; who
thereupon was confined for some time in the house.
of a king's messenger. But upon examination the
gentlemen of the long robe could discover nothing
in the poems that came under the denomination of a
libel, or incurred any legal punishment; and accord-
ing to this version of the case, the publishers were
released and the prosecution was dropped.
Upon the subject of the forged letters he writes
to his friend Pope in the language of an injured man
conscious of his own rectitude and fearless of any
evil consequences, as insinuated by some of those
friends who were aware of the extent of the conspi-
racy to rob the dean of his fair and honest fame :-
"As to those three forged letters you mention, sup-
posed to be written by me to the queen on Mrs.
Barber's account, especially the letter which bears
my name; I can only say the apprehensions one may
be apt to have of a friend's doing a foolish thing is an
effect of kindness: and God knows who is free from
playing the fool some time or other. But in such a
degree as to write to the queen, who has used me ill
without any cause, and to write in such a manner as
the letter you sent me, and in such a style, and to
have so much zeal for one almost a stranger; and
to make such a description of a woman as to prefer
her before all mankind; and to instance it as one
of the greatest grievances of Ireland that her ma-
jesty has not encouraged Mrs. Barber, a woollen-
draper's wife, declining in the world, because she has
a knack of versifying; was to suppose or fear a folly
so transcendant that no man could be guilty of who
was not fit for Bedlam. You know the letter you
sent enclosed is not my hand, and why I should dis-
guise my hand and yet sign my name is unaccount-
able. If the queen had not an inclination to think
ill of me, she knows me too well to believe in her
own heart that I should be such a coxcomb."
In his communication with Mrs. Howard on the
same subject he observes-"I find, from several in-
stances, I am under the queen's displeasure; and,
as it is usual among princes, without. any manner of
reason. I am told there were three letters sent to her
majesty, in relation to one Mrs. Barber, who is now in
London and soliciting for a subscription to her poems.
It seems the queen thinks that these letters were
written by me; and I scorn to defend myself even
to her majesty, grounding my scorn upon the opinion
lxxx
LIFE AND WORKS OF
I had of her justice, her taste, and good sense; espe-
cially when the last of those letters, whereof I have
just received the original from Mr. Pope, was signed
with my name; and why I should disguise my hand,
which you know very well, and yet sign my name,
is both ridiculous and unaccountable. I am sensi-
ble I owe a great deal of this usage to sir Robert
Walpole," &c.
From this and other passages of Swift's letters
at this period, it is evident he attributes the displea-
sure he had incurred at court to the art of Walpole,
and in nearly all his latter poems he gives full scope
to his resentment. His residence in, and the unhappy
condition of, the country he had made so many efforts
to regenerate, tended to embitter his declining years.
In one of his letters to Bolingbroke he deplores the
irritation of mind which the continual sight of misery
he was unable to alleviate, owing to the infliction of
unjust laws, made him unable to control. "I find
myself," he says, "disposed every year, or rather
every month, to be more angry and revengeful: and
my rage is so ignoble that it descends even to resent
the folly and baseness of the enslaved people among
whom I live.... but you think, as I ought to think,
that it is time for me to have done with the world;
and so I would if I could get into a better, before I
was called into the best, and not die here in a rage,
like a poisoned rat in a hole.”
And in another to Pope, speaking of his letters, he
observes, "None of them have anything to do with
party, of which you are the clearest of all men by
your religion and the whole tenor of your life; while
I am raging every moment against the corruptions
in both kingdoms, and especially of this, such is my
weakness."-The aversion he had so long felt for his
continued residence in Ireland is still more strongly
expressed in a passage of a confidential letter to
Dr. Sheridan, which contained the singular request
that the doctor would attend his body, when he was
dead, as far as Holyhead, to see it interred there;
"for," he observes, with a spirit worthy the best
patriots of antiquity, "I would not willingly lie in a
country of slaves."
About the year 1736 the dean's memory became
more and more impaired; and those brilliant facul-
ties which had enlightened and entertained the
world gave signs of evident decay. He was en-
gaged in composing the poem of the "Legion Club,"
when one of his fits of giddiness and deafness re-
turned with such violence that he never recovered
from the consequences.
From that moment he
seldom attempted any composition that required
much thinking or more than a single sitting to
complete; a melancholy proof of his rapid decline.
That melancholy was fearfully increased by his
knowledge that the approaching calamity of loss of
intellect was the effect of disease, not of age and
time; a strange and fatal disorder which had at-
tended him like his shadow, or pursued him like an
assassin, by whose dagger he knew he must fall,
while vainly hurrying to escape from place to place.
No affliction can be imagined more terrible than
that with which so sunlike and clear an intellect, so
piercing a wit, and so grand and powerful a mind
were thus threatened. His misery was increased by
the strength of his imagination brooding over the
unhappy scene he foresaw must be his lot. He was
often heard to offer up earnest prayers to God, "to
take him away from the evil to come;" and as each
lamented day of his birth came round, he would re-
cur to his bible in an agony of spirit, and repeat the
solemn and awfully grand adjurations of afflicted
Job. To put the climax to his sufferings, his pas-
sions, always of a violent character, tended further
to weaken and pervert his understanding; and that
|
he was himself perfectly conscious of the hopeless
state of his health was shown by his observation to
a brother clergyman upon occasion of a narrow
escape from death. They had been standing con-
versing immediately below a large heavy mirror,
and had just removed when the cords that supported
it suddenly gave way, and it fell with great violence
to the ground. His friend immediately uttered an
ejaculation of gratitude for his providential escape;
and Swift's reply was very remarkable: "Had I been
alone," he said, "I could have wished I had not re-
moved." Dr. Young has recorded another instance
of this sad prescience in the mind of the unfortunate
dean. When walking out with some friends, about a
mile from Dublin, it was observed that he had sud-
denly disappeared: Dr. Young turned back, and
found Swift at some distance gazing intently at the
top of a lofty elm, the head of which had been
blasted. Upon his friend's approach he pointed to
it, significantly adding, "I shall be like that tree,
and die first at the top." "An unusually long fit of
deafness soon disqualified him for conversation,"
says Sheridan, "and made him lose all relish for so-
ciety; few were desirous of visiting him in that de-
plorable state.' He could no longer amuse him elf
with writing; and having formed a resolution of
never wearing spectacles, he was equally prevented
from reading. Without employment or amusement
of any kind, the time wore heavily along; and not
a ray, except derived from religious hope in the in-
tervals of pain, pierced the surrounding gloom. We
hasten in sorrow, as from some unavoidable calamity,
over the closing scene. The state of his mind is
vividly described in a few sentences to his friend
and comforter, Mrs. Whiteway :-"I have been very
miserable all night, and to-day extremely deaf and
full of pain. I am so stupid and confounded that I
cannot express the mortification I am under both in
body and in mind. All I can say is, I am not in
torture, but I daily and hourly expect it. Pray, let
me know how your health is, and your family. I
hardly understand one word I write. I am sure my
days will be very few; few and miserable they must
be.-I am, for those few days, yours entirely, J.
SWIFT. If I do not blunder, it is Saturday."
Yet, near as he naturally supposed he was to his
end, he survived upwards of five years after the date
of these lines. His understanding
His understanding wholly failed;
and it was found necessary to appoint legal guard-
ians of his person and estate.
As if doomed to ex-
haust the catalogue of human miseries beyond those
incident to infirmity or age, he was only relieved
from a fit of lunacy which continued several months,
by sinking into a state of idiotcy which lasted till his
death. This event took place October 19th, 1745.
No sooner were the tidings known than the citizens
of Dublin gathered from all quarters, and gave un-
feigned testimony of the respect, and even venera-
tion, in which he was held. They forced their way
into the deanery, to pay the last tribute of grief to
their departed benefactor; and happy were they who
first got into the chamber where that noble heart lay
still from the indignant griefs which had torn it, to
procure locks of his hair, or the least memento, to
hand down as sacred reliques to their children and
their far posterity. "So eager were these numbers,
that in less than an hour," says Sheridan, "his
venerable head was entirely stripped of all its silver
ornaments, till not a hair remained. There were
to be heard nothing but lamentations round the
^ #
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And dying mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue."
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lxxxi
precincts where he lived, as if he had been suddenly the cause, as he esteemed it, of the religion and
cut off in the flower of his years."
He was buried in the most private manner, ac-
cording to the directions in his will, in the great
aisle of St. Patrick's cathedral; and by way of
monument, a slab of black marble was placed
against the wall, on which was engraved the follow-
ing Latin epitaph, written by himself:-
Hic depositam est corpus
JONATHAN. SWIFT. S. T. P.
Hujus Ecclesia Cathedralis
Decani
Ubi seva indignatio
Ulterius cor lacerare nequit ;
Abi viator
Et imitare si poteris,
Strenuum pro virili libertatis vindicem.
Obiit anno (1745)
Mensis (Octobris) die (19)
Atatis anno (78).
"The later letters of Swift," it is observed by Dr.
Warton, " are curious and interesting, as they give
us an account of the gradual decay of his intellect
and temper and strength of mind and body, and fill
us with many melancholy but useful reflections.
We see the steps by which this great genius sunk
into discontent, into peevishness, into indignity, into
to por, into insanity." In the sad accounts of his
latter state some curious facts have also been pre-
served, which show that he had occasional intervals
of sense. His physician used to accompany him out
for the air; and on one of these days Swift remarked
a new building he had not before seen, and inquired
for what it was designed, to which Dr. Kingbury
replied, "That, Mr. Dean, is the magazine for arms
and powder for the security of the city.” "Oh, oh!"
said the dean, pulling out his pocket-book, "let me
take an item of this; it is worth remarking. My
tablets,' as Hamlet says, my tablets; memory, put
down that ;'" which led to the following epigram,
supposed to be the last verses which he produced :—
"Behold a proof of Irish sense,
Here Irish wit is seen;
When nothing's left that's worth defence,
We build a magazine."
In the very singular exhortation, likewise, ad-
dressed to the sub-dean and chapter of St. Patrick's,
as late as January, 1741, he displayed some of those
gleams and even flashes of peculiar humour which
shone in his best days, though fast verging upon im-
becility.
By Swift's will, which is dated in May, 1740, a
short time before he sunk into comparative uncon-
sciousness, he left about 12007. in legacies, and the
bulk of his fortune, upwards of 11,000l., to erect and
endow an hospital for idiots and lunatics.
Nearly all the biographers of this illustrious but
eccentric genius have found reason to remark that
his character was so various and so contradictory as
to render it difficult to convey a clear and accurate
idea of it as a whole. It is a magnificent picture,
composed of strong lights and shadows, but in which
the grandeur of design, the rich and varied compo-
sition, the general effect and splendid colours, be-
come only more powerful from the occasional con-
trast of the depth of shadows giving relief to other
parts of the subject. His conduct in the discharge
of what he conceived to be his public duties, the
greatness and disinterestedness of his literary charac-
ter, and his general benevolence, far outweigh the
less estimable traits of his singular and powerful
mind. As a public man, indeed, no one in similar
circumstances ever evinced more truc greatness and
disinterestedness of conduct; he provided for all who
he provided for all who
applied to him deserving his support, before he re-
ceived any recompense for his arduous labours in
VOL. I.
|
liberties of his country. Perhaps his crowning merit,
coming immediately after the days of our Charleses
and Jameses, was to teach literary men not only
to respect themselves, but by consistent principle,
manly independence, and long assiduous intellectual
cultivation, to claim respect and equality of mind
instead of patronage from superiors only in rank and
station. The same elevation of intellect, the same
moral strength and resolution, will be found to ani-
mate the whole circle of his duties. The bold as-
serter of civil liberty combined with the highest
religious doctrine, he was also the strenuous sup-
porter of the rights of the Anglican church as of his
own cathedral, and in attention to its economy and
revenues he was most strict and exemplary. Here, if
carried no further, is fame enough for any one.
In the words of his friend Pope it may in this
respect be said-
"Honour and fame from no condition rise;
Act well your part-there all the honour lies."
With a rare sense of justice, presenting a pattern to
greater members of the church, he consulted the in-
terest of his successors in preference to his own, and
diverted not the renewal of leases to family purposes.
Another excellent feature of his religious character
was, that no one more detested the vice of hypocrisy;
and his great anxiety that no stain of the kind should
attach to his memory betrayed him into a certain
boldness and plainness of manners which gave of-
fence in high quarters, and often proved distasteful
to those who were not aware at the time of his pure
and lofty motives. Lord Bolingbroke on this head
declared, with great justice, that Swift's conduct
through life was that of hypocrisy reversed; and in
real love of peace, of good-will to men, and charity
to all ranks and creeds (as witness his friend Pope
and so many others), he was surpassed by few, and in
the still higher christian virtues of truth and fidelity
by none. His piety, by the admission of his worst
enemies, was sincere; he regularly attended public
worship, and always read prayers to the members of
his household in the morning and in the evening.
Next in importance, if considered as a citizen and
a patriot, he was uniformly steady and vigilant in
his duty, directed by the best motives, though he
may sometimes have mistaken the means, in his in-
tense eagerness to punish vice and folly by a public
exposure of details before considered safe from the
shafts of satire, and left to conscience or Heaven to
discharge.
In his wonderful efforts to correct the erroneous
system so long pursued by the government of Ire-
land, his conduct, like his writings, did him im-
mortal honour and gave him deserved perpetuity of
fame. His ambition and greatness of spirit allowed
him to make no distinction with regard to persons;
he spoke as he thought, and told the greatest the
severest truths; and his wise opinions were always
received with respect, if not reverence, although sel-
dom obeyed. He was fearless to a fault in the stern
unflinching assertion of his cause, and never shrunk
from the eye or withering frown of power; no pro-
secution could make him even withdraw from public
notice, much less silence the resistless eloquence of
his tongue and pen. Nor did the unanimous ap-
plause of a grateful nation for the successful efforts
of the Drapier appear to change or to exalt him in
his own eyes; it even failed to administer balm to
his suffering mind.
In point of natural disposition, Swift had all the
irritability and more than the unhappiness peculiar
to a richly-gifted intellect. Then disappointment,
the most disastrous combination of circumstances,
9
lxxxii
LIFE AND WORKS OF
and consequent discontent, haunted him almost from
his childhood, soured his temper towards the close
of life, and prevented him from enjoying real hap-
piness. "I remember," he says to lord Boling-
broke, "when I was a little boy I felt a great fish at
the end of my line, which I drew up almost on the
ground, but it dropped in, and the disappointment
vexes me to this very day; and I believe it was the
type of all my future disappointments." That Swift's
unhappy feelings and views were wholly sincere and
unaffected there can be no doubt, from the sad
effects produced upon those he most loved and upon
his own mind; it was the evil spirit of his destiny,
which no exorcism of love, or fame, or success be-
yond the fondest hopes of genius, could ever expel;
it tore his heart with cruel indignation, and seemed
a part of his very nature:-
"Naturam expellas furcâ tamen usque recurret."
It might appear from some portion of his letters
that the charge of misanthropy brought against Swift
is not wholly unfounded; but when we turn on
the other hand to his warm and constant friendship
and wide-spread charity, we are inclined to think that
it sprung, as he has himself recorded, "from his rage
and resentment at the mortifying sight of the slavery,
folly, and baseness about him, and among which he
was forced to live." He informs Dr. Sheridan, with
the air of an anxious friend, that "he would every
day find his description of yahoos more resembling.
You should think and deal with every man as a vil-
lain, without calling him so or valuing him less.
This is an old true lesson.”
In these maxims we can evidently trace the results
of disappointment, disease, and age. Though Swift
was so well acquainted with human nature from its
highest to its lowest scene, still his knowledge was
that of the poet rather than of the philosopher-a
fatal dower of the imagination, morbid in some re-
spects, rather than derived from the process of rea-
soning and founded upon experience and facts.
its main character, indeed, it is the knowledge of
Shakspeare, Homer, Dante, Cervantes, Fielding,
In
and Scott, rather than of Aristotle, Locke, or of men
attached to philosophy, science, taste, and virtu.
With regard to the peculiarities of his style, vigour,
simplicity, and conciseness assuredly take the lead.
He was the first writer who expressed his meaning
without any display of subsidiary epithets or exple-
tives of any kind, tending to weaken the impression
of simple truth. In the use of synonymes he was
even more sparing than Addison, and devoted his
attention to illustrate the force of his ideas; and it
is thus that metaphor is so seldom met with in his
works. But he abounds in clear and beautiful alle..
gory, and his images are always just and new.
political discussion, his favourite study, he was su-
perior to any man of his time, not excepting Addison.
His poems, like his masterly political allegories, are
a series of general and particular satires, and were
mostly written for some special occasion. Even be-
fore the complimentary lines of Pope he had taken
his rank as the Rabelais of England :-
"Whether thou choose Cervantes' scrious air.
Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair."
In
Cum
If less learned, his wit was more piercing and his
satire more close and trenchant. His ideas flowed
with ease and rapidity, and he used to say "when
he sat down to write a letter he never leaned his
head upon his elbow till he had finished it."
magnis vixisse appears to have been no less his
favourite motto than it was that of Horace, and his
letters everywhere attest his high ambition of intel-
lectual rule, and his proud desire of dictating even
to the most eminent and great. His Journal and
letters are the most genuine and valuable transcripts
of his mind; for in these he threw off all party tram-
mels, and his extraordinary and often contradictory
qualities shine forth without alloy. They display
complete knowledge of the world, combined with
innumerable traits of benevolence, fierce resentment,
and an indignation at the sufferings and oppression
of the people, which hurried him into misanthropy.
Though lofty and commanding with his superiors in
rank, towards his equals he was full of social ease,
wit, and spirit; and though rough in appearance, was
really and condescendingly kind to his inferiors.
While economical and saving, he devoted his money
to the noblest purposes; and he appears in this re-
spect to have modelled his conduct upon his excel-
lent observation to lord Bolingbroke, "that a wise
man should have money in his head, but not in his
heart;" but in his declining years he is thought
to have furnished some proof of his distinguished
friend's reply, "that a wise man should take care
how he lets money get too much into his head, for
it would assuredly descend to the heart, the seat of
the passions."
Swift was celebrated for his amusing anecdote as
well as surpassing wit and repartee, and he had an
excellent way of telling a story; always brief and
pithy, as if careful not to engross the whole time
and conversation of the company.
and conversation of the company. Addicted to no
vice, he seemed to rise superior to the meaner tempt-
ations and pleasures of the world; he was heard to
declare that on no occasion was he intoxicated-
neither, it might be added, with wine nor power;
while from women and gaming he appears to have
kept himself free, from choice as well as principle.
Swift was of middle stature, inclining to tall, ro-
bust, and manly, with strongly marked and regular
features. He had a high forehead, a handsome
nose, and large piercing blue eyes, which retained
their lustre to the last. He had an extremely agree-
able and expressive countenance, which, in the words
of the unfortunate Vanessa, sometimes shone with a
divine compassion,-at others, the most engaging
vivacity, indignation, fearful passion, and striking
awe. His mouth was pleasing, he had a fine regu-
lar set of teeth, a round double chin with a small
dimple; his complexion, a light olive or pale brown.
His voice was sharp, strong, high-toned; but he was
a bad reader, especially of verses, and disliked
music. His mien was erect, his head firm, and his
whole deportment commanding. There was a stern-
ness and severity in his aspect, which wit and gaiety
did not entirely remove. When pleased he would
smile, but never laughed aloud.
In his diet Swift was abstemious; he preferred
plain dishes, generally hashed; and in drinking he
seldom exceeded a pint of claret. In his person he
was neat and clean even to superstition, and ap-
peared regularly dressed in his gown every morning,
to receive the visits of his most familiar friends.
No man, it is agreed by all his biographers, ever
appreciated with greater tact the qualities and sin-
cerity of his friends; and the better to assist his judg-
ment, he formed a sort of calendar of friendship, in
which he arranged them under the heads of ungrate-
ful, indifferent, doubtful; and it is mortifying to
think he should have found reason to class so many,
even among those whom he had benefited, under
the former head.
With regard to Swift's natural disposition, his
love of study, his sagacious knowledge of mankind,
it has been well observed by Scott that Shak-
speare's description of Cassius will apply to him
admirably :--
JONATHAN SWIFT.
lxxxiii
'He reads much,
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men.
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit,
That could be moved to smile at anything."
In his latter days Swift was an early riser, though
at one period of his life he was said to lie in bed
and think of wit for the day. Of his learning it has
been said that it was not that of a professed scholar.
Dr. J. Warton pointed out the errors of quantity in
his Latin verse. His Latin prose is far from classical.
His letter to Pope on his translation of Homer does
not show any familiar acquaintance with the original;
and his "Letter to Lord Oxford on the Improve-
ment of the English Language" is almost superficial.
In his controversy on Phalaris he had wit and sar-
casm in abundance, but little learning, to bring to
the support of his friend Temple. In the same way,
his observations on the character of Brutus are very
inferior to the masterly review of the character in
the third volume of Gibbon's "Memoirs." In Greek
his knowledge is said to have enabled him to read
the best authors with tolerable facility, but not
more; and as regarded Latin, it did not enter into
the critical niceties of the language. Our great
Chaucer's flow of wit, the amenity and graces of his
frank joyous spirit, were Swift's early admiration
and study; he even made a selection of a number of
epithets in alphabetical order, with references, and a
list of the oaths used by the different characters in
his stories. Like most other men of genius and ac-
tive mind, he is said to have been fond of old roman-
ces, and to have carefully studied them—a fact that
rather surprises us with close attention. His collec-
tion of books, however,a comprehended none of the
elder dramatists, not even a copy of Shakspeare,
and the modern plays of Wycherly and Rowe were
presented by the authors. History was his leading
pursuit, and in the decline of life he confined his at-
tention nearly altogether to Clarendon. Like most
men of genius, Swift was fond of residing in the
country, though not at all susceptible to the charms
of what is termed romantic, picturesque, or grand
scenery. He detested field-sports and cruelty of all
kinds, but delighted in planting and rural scenery,
for the freedom it gave him from restraint, the open
air, and exercise, of which he was excessively fond.
His independent but wayward character often made
him appear, to those unacquainted with him, full of
contradictions. A zealous churchman, he had the
highest respect for the rights of his order, though he
wrote with a spirit of satire and a levity bordering
upon profaneness. The object in view being good,
he was not over-scrupulous with regard to the means
of effecting it; and though a friend to liberty, he
ranged himself on the side of the Tories. This
choice, between two of the least evils, led to many
impositions and forgeries on the side of his foes,
who attributed to him a thousand meannesses and
follies which he never said or did. Perhaps the
strongest instance is to be found in the "Courtier's
Creed," which, with all its clever application, con-
tains that air of profaneness which Swift conscien-
tiously avoided; but it is well invented. "I believe,"
it runs, "in king George II., the greatest captain
and the wisest monarch between heaven and earth;
and in sir Robert Walpole, his only minister, our
lord, who was begotten of Barret, the attorney, born
of Mrs. W. of Houghton, accused of corruption, con-
Many of which are at this time in the hands of his descend-
ant, Mr. Edmund Swift, conservator of the regalia in the Tower,
who
possesses also a portrait of the dean taken when he was in
advanced years, and some other curiosities appertaining to his
celebrated relative, especially the original MSS. of Swift's poli-
tical treatises and poems previously published.
|
victed, expelled, and imprisoned. He went down
into Norfolk; the third year he came up again; he
ascended into the administration, and sitteth at the
head of the treasury, from whence he shall pay all
those who shall vote as they are commanded. I be-
lieve in Horace's [his brother's] treaty, the sanctity
of the bishops, the independency of the lords, the
integrity of the commons, restitution from Spain,
resurrection of credit, discharge of the public debts,
and peace everlasting. Amen."
Swift's public spirit and extensive charities failed
to protect him from the charges of parsimony and
avarice, though even Johnson admitted they were
never suffered to encroach upon his virtue; for
though frugal by inclination, he was liberal by prin-
ciple. "Wealth," he said, "is liberty, and liberty
is a blessing fittest for a philosopher. Gay is a slave
just by 2000l. too little, but he could not live sine
dignitate; he declares it would kill him in a month
to make any abatement in his liberalities."
writes also to Pope-" Your wants are so few that
you need not be rich to supply them, and my wants
are so many that a king's 7,000,000 of guineas would
not support me."
He
The dean's singularities were indulged even in
the most refined society, for, though a perfect master
of aristocratic and court manners, he nevertheless
put them aside, and assumed a frankness and blunt-
ness which beat down all defence, and proved at
first intolerably annoying. He once insisted upcr
lady Burlington singing for him, though she ex-
pressed repeated wishes to be excused, and not
knowing her tormentor, at length burst into tears;
while it is recorded that Vanessa actually struck him
for his freedom of manner the first time she was in
his company. Sometimes he carried his peculiarity
to a ludicrous or insulting length, especially towards
ladies if they showed any want of attention or re-
spect. Dining at a house where part of the table-
cloth next him happened to have a small hole,
he tore it as wide as he could, so as to eat his soup
through it. The reason assigned for such behaviour
was to mortify the lady of the house, and to teach
her to pay a proper attention to housewifery. Though
steady in his friendships, his aversion, as in the in-
stances of Somers, Wharton, and Marlborough, was
carried even beyond the grave, and he pursued their
funeral trains with keen satirical epitaphs.
levelled sarcasms at Steele in his "Rhapsody on
Poetry ;" and seized upon chief-justice Whitshed
like a fierce terrier upon some noxious vermin, which
he tears and worries after it is killed. By a re-
iterated fire of lampoons, squibs, and epitaphs, he
made him odious and contemptible in the eyes of
the people, considering it his duty, as in the case of
Wood, to make him an example to all future ages,
and coupling his name with that of Anytus, the
accuser of Socrates. His satire covered the lawyer
Bettesworth with such ridicule and contempt that he
declared feelingly in the house of commons that it
had deprived him of full 1200l. a-year; no trifle,
especially at that period.
He
Swift often submitted his MS. productions to the
correction of his friends, and weighed their objec-
tions with candour and impartiality. He made nu-
merous alterations in the poem of "Baucis and
Philemon" at Addison's suggestion. He put one of
his pamphlets into the hands of a clergyman, and
consented to strike out a number of passages; but
on seeing the publication the critic became aware
of the injudicious alterations, and expressed his re-
gret.
"Sir," replied Swift, "I considered them of
no very great consequence; but had I stood up in
their defence you might have imputed it to an au
lxxxiv
LIFE AND WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.
thor's vanity. By my compliance you will at all
times hereafter be the more open and free in your
remarks."
Of Swift's general merits as an author we cannot
convey a more correct idea than by giving some pas-
sages from the able and impartial estimate for which
we are indebted to the pen of one of his most en-
lightened biographers-sir W. Scott :-"As an au-
thor there are three peculiarities in the character of
Swift: the first is the distinguished attribute of ori-
ginality; and it cannot be refused him by the most
severe critic. Even Johnson has allowed no author
can be found who has borrowed so little. . . . There
was indeed nothing written before his time which
could serve for his model, and the few hints which
he has adopted from other authors bear no more re-
semblance to his compositions than the green flax to
the cable which is formed from it.
"The second peculiarity is his total indifference
to literary fame. Swift executed his various and
numerous works as a carpenter forms wedges, mal-
lets, or other implements of his art-not with the
purpose of distinguishing himself by the workman-
ship of the tools themselves, but solely in order to
render them fit for accomplishing a certain purpose,
beyond which they were of no value in his eyes.
He is often anxious about the success of his argu-
ment, and jealous of those who debate the principles
and the purpose for which he assumes the pen; but
he evinces on all occasions an unaffected indifference
for the fate of his writings, provided the end of their
publication was answered. The careless mode in
which Swift suffered his works to get to the public,
his refusing them the credit of his name, and his
renouncing all connexion with the profits of lite-
rature, indicate his disdain of the character of a
professional writer.
“The third distinguishing mark of Swift's literary
character is, that, with the exception of history (for
his fugitive attempts in Pindaric and Latin verse
are too unimportant to be noticed), he has never at-
tempted a style of composition in which he has not
attained a distinguished pitch of excellence. We
may often think the immediate mode of exercising
his talents trifling, and sometimes coarse and offen-
sive; but his Anglo-Latin verses, his riddles, his
indelicate descriptions, and his violent political sa-
tires, are in their various departments as excellent
as the subject admitted; and only leave us occasion
to regret that so much talent was not uniformly
employed on nobler topics."- (Scott's "Me-
moirs," &c.)
It has been observed by Horace Walpole that
Swift's style was excellent, though without grace,
and that it was more correct than Dryden's or Addi-
son's. Hume, in a letter to Robertson, observes,
"What the d-1 had you to do with that old-fashioned,
dangling word, wherewith? I should as soon take
back whereupon, whereunto, wherewithal. I think
the only tolerable decent gentleman of the family is
wherein, and I should not choose to be often seen in
his company; but I know your affection for where-
with proceeds from your partiality to dean Swift,
whom I can often laugh with, whose style I can even
approve-surely never admire. It has no harmony,
no eloquence, no ornament, and not much correct-
ness, whatever the English may imagine. Were not
their literature still in a somewhat barbarous state,
that author's place would not be so high among their
classics."
The English, however, may afford to smile even
at the classical Hume's strictures; for after Swift's
own attacks upon the Scotch-perhaps as injudicious.
as they are often undeserved-it is too much to ex-
pect that he should be either loved or admired by
the writers of that nation.a
One of Swift's truest friends, Dr. Delany, after
summing up his merits in reply to the reflections of
lord Orrery, concludes with the following excellent
observations:-"All this considered, the character of
his life will appear like that of his writings; they
will both bear to be re-considered and re-examined
with the utmost attention, and always discover new
beauties and excellencies upon every examination.
They will bear to be considered as the sun, in which
the brightness will hide the blemishes; and when-
ever petulant ignorance, pride, malice, malignity, or
envy interposes to cloud or sully his fame, I take
upon me to pronounce that the eclipse will not last
long.
"To conclude, no man ever deserved better of any
country than Swift did of his :—a steady, persevering,
inflexible friend; a wise, a watchful, and a faithful
counsellor, under many severe trials and bitter per-
secutions, to the manifest hazard both of his liberty
and his fortune. He lived a blessing; he died a
benefactor; and his name will ever live an honour
to Ireland."
In order to observe to the close that impartial
spirit and love of truth which actuated the views of
a Scott and a Mason in their admirable biographies
of the celebrated dean, we give the counter opinion
of another commentatorb on his life and writings, by
no means of so favourable a character as the pre-
ceding:-"Upon the whole, Swift lived a melancholy
instance of the fall of human greatness. His life is a
mournful and striking example of the power of disap-
pointment totally to subvert natural cheerfulness, to
take away the value of every good, and aggravate real
by imaginary evil. The miseries to which human na-
ture is subject made him often think it better never
to have existed at all; and this sentiment led him to
adopt as a maxim, 'Non nasci homini longè opti-
mum est.' It was under this persuasion that he
always read the third chapter of Job upon his birth-
day; and whoever visited him then was sure to see
that part of the bible lying open before him.
·
• •
"In short, he lived an honour to the human mind,
and died, as he had lived in his latter years, a sad
monument of the infirmities incident to it; and a
melancholy, mortifying memento to the vanity of
pride of parts. His death eclipsed the gaiety of his
native country, and impoverished the scanty stock
of public virtue.”
See a critique in the Edinburgh Review (No. liii. p. 56)
as an example.
The author of the "Swiftiana.”
TRAVELS
INTO SEVERAL REMOTE NATIONS OF THE WORLD,
BY
LEMUEL GULLIVER,
FIRST A SURGEON, AND THEN A CAPTAIN OF SEVERAL SHIPS.
IN FOUR PARTS.
I. A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.—II. A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.-III. A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, BALNIBARBI,
LUGGNAGG, GLUBBDUBDRIB, AND JAPAN.—IV. A VOYAGE TO THE COUNTRY OF THE HOUYHNHnMs.
Splendidè mendax.-HOR.
JOHNSON, Warton, and Hawkesworth, made the following
observations on the work:-
"This important year sent into the world 'Gulliver's
Travels;' a production so new and so strange, that it filled the
reader with a mingled emotion of merriment and amazement.
It was received with such avidity, that the price of the first
edition was raised before the second could be made it was
read by the high and the low, the learned and illiterate. Cri-
ticism was, for a while, lost in wonder. No rules of judgment
No rules of judgment
were applied to a book written in open defiance of truth and
regularity. But when distinctions came to be made, the part
which gave least pleasure was that which describes the Flying
Island, and that which gave most disgust must be the history
of the Houyhnhnms. While Swift was enjoying the reputation
of his new work the news of the king's death arrived; and he
kissed the hands of the new king and queen three days after
their accession."
"Gulliver's Travels' and the Tale of a Tub' are indis-
putably the two most capital works of Swift."
"From the whole of those two voyages to Lilliput and Brob-
dingnag arises one general remark, which, however obvious,
has been overlooked by those who consider them as little more
than the sport of a wanton imagination. When human
actions are ascribed to pigmies and giants, there are few
that do not excite either contempt, disgust, or horror; to
ascribe them, therefore, to such beings, was perhaps the most
probable method of engaging the mind to examine them with
attention, and judge of them with impartiality, by suspending
the fascination of habit, and exhibiting familiar objects in a
new light. The use of the fable, then, is not less apparent than
important and extensive; and that this use was intended by
the author can be doubted only by those who are disposed to
affirm that order and regularity are the effects of chance.
"To mortify pride, which, indeed, was not made for man,
and produces not only the most ridiculous follies, but the most
extensive calamity, appears to have been one general view of
the author in every part of these Travels. Personal strength
and beauty, the wisdom and the virtue of mankind, become
objects, not of pride, but of humility, in the diminutive stature
and contemptible weakness of the Lilliputians, in the horrid
deformity of the Brobdingnagians, in the learned folly of the
Laputians, and in the parallel drawn between our manners
and those of the Houyhnhnms."
THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER.
THE author of these Travels, Mr. Lemuel Gulliver,
is my ancient and intimate friend; there is likewise
some relation between us on the mother's side.
About three years ago, Mr. Gulliver, growing weary
of the concourse of curious people coming to him at
his house in Redriff, made a small purchase of land,
with a convenient house, near Newark, in Notting-
hamshire, his native country, where he now lives re-
tired, yet in good esteem among his neighbours.
Although Mr. Gulliver was born in Nottingham-
shire, where his father dwelt, yet I have heard him
say his family came from Oxfordshire; to confirm
which, I have observed in the churchyard at Ban-
bury, in that county, several tombs and monuments
of the Gullivers.
Before he quitted Redriff he left the custody of
the following papers in my hands, with the liberty
to dispose of them as I should think fit. I have
I have
carefully perused them three times. The style is
VOL. I.
very plain and simple; and the only fault I find is,
that the author, after the manner of travellers, is a
little too circumstantial. There is an air of truth
apparent through the whole; and, indeed, the au-
thor was so distinguished for his veracity, that it
became a sort of proverb among his neighbours at
Redriff, when any one affirmed a thing, to say "it
was as true as if Mr. Gulliver had spoken it."
By the advice of several worthy persons, to whom,
with the author's permission, I communicated these
papers, I now venture to send them into the world,
hoping they may be, at least for some time, a better
entertainment to our young noblemen than the com-
mon scribbles of politics and party.
This volume would have been at least twice as
large, if I had not made bold to strike out innume-
rable passages relating to the winds and tides, as
well as to the variations and bearings in the several
voyages, together with the minute descriptions of
the management of the ship in storms, in the style
of sailors; likewise the account of longitudes and la-
titudes; wherein I have reason to apprehend that
Mr. Gulliver may be a little disatisfied: but I was
resolved to fit the work as much as possible to the
general capacity of readers. However, if my own ig-
norance in sea affairs shall have led me to commit
some mistakes, I alone am answerable for them:
and if any traveller has a curiosity to see the whole
work at large, as it came from the hands of the
author, I will be ready to gratify him.
As for any further particulars relating to the au-
thor, the reader will receive satisfaction from the
first pages of the book. RICHARD SYMPSON.
A LETTER FROM CAPTAIN GULLIVER TO HIS COUSIN
SYMPSON, WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1727.
I HOPE you will be ready to own publicly, whenever
you shall be called to it, that, by your great and
frequent urgency, you prevailed on me to publish a
very loose and uncorrect account of my travels, with
direction to hire some young gentleman of either
university to put them in order, and correct the
style, as my cousin Dampier did, by my advice, in
his book called "A Voyage Round the World."
But I do not remember I gave you power to consent
that anything should be omitted, and much less that
anything should be inserted: therefore, as to the
latter, I do here renounce everything of that kind,
particularly a paragraph about her majesty queen
Anne, of most pious and glorious memory, although
I did reverence and esteem her more than any of
the human species. But you, or your interpolator,
ought to have considered that, as it was not my
inclination, so was it not decent, to praise any animal
of our composition before my master Houyhnhnm :
B
2
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
and, besides, the fact was altogether false; for to
my
knowledge, being in England during some part
of her majesty's reign, she did govern by a chief
minister; nay, even by two successively; the first
whereof was the lord of Godolphin, and the second
the lord of Oxford; so that you have made me say
the thing that was not. Likewise, in the account
of the academy of projectors, and several passages of
my discourse to my master Houyhnhnm, you have
either omitted some material circumstances, or
minced or changed them in such a manner that I
do hardly know my own work. When I formerly
hinted to you something of this in a letter, you
were pleased to answer, "that you were afraid of
giving offence; that people in power were very
watchful over the press, and apt not only to inter-
pret but to punish everything which looked like an
inuendo" (as I think you call it). But, pray, how
could that which I spoke so many years ago, and at
above five thousand leagues distance, in another
reign, be applied to any of the Yahoos who now are
said to govern the herd; especially at a time when
I little thought on or feared the unhappiness of
living under them? Have not I the most reason to
complain, when I see these very Yahoos carried by
Houyhnhnms in a vehicle, as if these were brutes,
and those the rational creatures? And, indeed, to
avoid so monstrous and detestable a sight was one
principal motive of my retirement hither.
Thus much I thought proper to tell you in rela-
tion to yourself, and to the trust I reposed in you.
I do, in the next place, complain of my own great
want of judgment, in being prevailed upon, by the
entreaties and false reasonings of you and some
others, very much against my own opinion, to suffer
my travels to be published. Pray bring to your
mind how often I desired you to consider, when
you insisted on the motive of public good, that the
Yahoos were a species of animals utterly incapable
of amendment by precepts or example: and so it
has proved: for, instead of seeing a full stop put to
all abuses and corruptions, at least in this little
island, as I had reason to expect,-behold, after
above six months' warning, I cannot learn that my
book has produced one single effect according to my
intentions. I desired you would let me know, by a
letter, when party and faction were extinguished;
judges learned and upright; pleaders honest and
modest, with some tincture of common sense, and
Smithfield blazing with pyramids of law-books; the
young nobility's education entirely changed; the
physicians banished; the female Yahoos abounding
in virtue, honour, truth, and good sense; courts and
levees of great ministers thoroughly weeded and
swept; wit, merit, and learning rewarded; all dis-
gracers of the press, in prose and verse, condemned
to eat nothing but their own cotton, and quench
their thirst with their own ink. These and a thou-
sand other reformations I firmly counted upon by
your encouragement; as, indeed, they were plainly
deducible from the precepts delivered in my book.
And it must be owned that seven months were a
sufficient time to correct every vice and folly to
which Yahoos are subject, if their natures had been
capable of the least disposition to virtue or wisdom.
Yet, so far have you been from answering my expect-
ation in any of your letters, that, on the contrary,
you are loading our carrier every week with libels,
and keys, and reflections, and memoirs, and second
parts; wherein I see myself accused of reflecting
upon great state folks; of degrading human nature,
(for so they have still the confidence to style it,) and
of abusing the female sex. I find, likewise, that the
writers of those bundles are not agreed among them-
selves; for some of them will not allow me to be
the author of my own travels, and others make me
author of books to which I am wholly a stranger.
I find, likewise, that your printer has been so
careless as to confound the times, and mistake the
dates, of my several voyages and returns; neither
assigning the true year, nor the true month, nor day
of the month: and I hear the original manuscript
is all destroyed since the publication of my book;
neither have I any copy left. However, I have sent
you some corrections, which you may insert, if ever
there should be a second edition; and yet I cannot
stand to them, but shall leave that matter to my
judicious and candid readers, to adjust it as they
please.
I hear some of our sea Yahoos find fault with my
sea language, as not proper in many parts, nor now
in use. I cannot help it. In my first voyages
while I was young, I was instructed by the oldest
mariners, and learned to speak as they did. But I
have since found that the sea Yahoos are apt, like
the land ones, to become new-fangled in their words,
which the latter change every year; insomuch, as I
remember, upon each return to my own country,
their old dialect was so altered, that I could hardly
understand the new. And I observe, when any
Yahoo comes from London, out of curiosity, to visit
me at my house, we neither of us are able to deliver
our conceptions in a manner intelligible to the other.
If the censure of the Yahoos could anyway affect
me, I should have great reason to complain that
some of them are so bold as to think my book of
travels a mere fiction out of mine own brain; and
have gone so far as to drop hints, that the Hou-
yhnhnms and Yahoos have no more existence than
the inhabitants of Utopia.
Indeed I must confess that, as to the people of
Lilliput, Brobdingrag, (for so the word should have
been spelt, and not erroneously Brobdingnag,) and
Laputa, I have never yet heard of any Yahoo so pre-
sumptuous as to dispute their being, or the facts I
have related concerning them; because the truth
immediately strikes every reader with conviction.
And is there less probability in my account of the
Houyhnhnms or Yahoos, when it is manifest, as to
the latter, there are so many thousands, even in this
country, who only differ from their brother brutes
in Houyhnhnm-land because they use a sort of jabber,
and do not go naked? I wrote for their amendment,
and not their approbation. The united praise of
the whole race would be of less consequence to me
than the neighing of those two degenerate Hou-
yhnhnms I keep in my stable; because from these,
degenerate as they are, I still improve in some virtues,
without any mixture of vice.
Do these miserable animals presume to think that
I am so degenerated as to defend my veracity? Yahoo
as I am, it is well known through all Houyhnhnm-
land that, by the instructions and example of my
illustrious master, I was able, in the compass of two
years, (although, I confess, with the utmost difficulty,)
to remove that infernal habit of lying, shuffling, de-
ceiving, and equivocating, so deeply rooted in the
very souls of all my species, especially the Europeans.
I have other complaints to make upon this vexa-
tious occasion; but I forbear troubling myself or
you any further. I must freely confess that since
my last return some corruptions of my Yahoo nature
have revived in me, by conversing with a few of your
species, and particularly those of my own family,
by an unavoidable necessity; else I should never
have attempted so absurd a project as that of re-
forming the Yahoo race in this kingdom: but I have
now done with all such visionary schemes for ever.
3
PART THE FIRST.
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
CHAPTER I.
The author gives some account of himself and family. His
first inducements to travel. He is shipwrecked, and swims
for his life. Gets safe on shore in the country of Lilliput.
Is made a prisoner, and carried up the country.
My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire :
I was the third of five sons. He sent me to Emanuel
College in Cambridge, at fourteen years old, where
I resided three years, and applied myself close to
my studies; but the charge of maintaining me, al-
though I had a very scanty allowance, being too
great for a narrow fortune, I was bound apprentice
to Mr. James Bates, an eminent surgeon in London,
with whom I continued four years my father now
and then sending me small sums of money, I laid
them out in learning navigation, and other parts of
the mathematics, useful to those who intend to travel,
as I always believed it would be, some time or other,
my fortune to do. When I left Mr. Bates I went
down to my father, where, by the assistance of him
and my uncle John, and some other relations, I got
forty pounds, and a promise of thirty pounds a-year
to maintain me at Leyden: there I studied physic
two years and seven months, knowing it would be
useful in long voyages.
Soon after my return from Leyden I was recom-
mended by my good master, Mr. Bates, to be sur-
geon to the Swallow, captain Abraham Pannel,
commander, with whom I continued three years
and a half, making a voyage or two into the Levant,
and some other parts. When I came back I re-
solved to settle in London, to which Mr. Bates my
master encouraged me, and by him I was recom-
mended to several patients. I took part of a small
house in the Old Jewry; and, being advised to alter
my condition, I married Miss Mary Burton, second
daughter to Mr. Edmund Burton, hosier, in New-
gate-street, with whom I received four hundred
pounds for a portion.
But my good master Bates dying in two years
after, and I having few friends, my business began
to fail; for my conscience would not suffer me to
imitate the bad practice of too many among my
brethren. Having therefore consulted with my
wife and some of my acquaintance, I determined
to go again to sea. I was surgeon successively
in two ships, and made several voyages, for six
years, to the East and West Indies, by which I
got some addition to my fortune. My hours of
leisure I spent in reading the best authors, ancient
and modern, being always provided with a good
number of books; and when I was a-shore, in ob-
serving the manners and dispositions of the people,
as well as learning their language, wherein I had a
great facility, by the strength of my memory.
The last of these voyages not proving very for-
tunate, I grew weary of the sea, and intended to
stay at home with my wife and family. I removed
from the Old Jewry to Fetter-lane, and from thence
to Wapping, hoping to get business among the
sailors; but it would not turn to account. After
three years' expectation that things would mend, I
accepted an advantageous offer from captain William
Prichard, master of the Antelope, who was making
a voyage to the South Sea. We set sail from Bristol
May 4, 1699, and our voyage at first was very pros.
perous.
It would not be proper, for some reasons, to
trouble the reader with the particulars of our ad-
ventures in those seas: let it suffice to inform him
that, in our passage from thence to the East Indies,
we were driven by a violent storm to the north-west
of Van Diemen's Land. By an observation we
found ourselves in the latitude of 30° 2′ south.
Twelve of our crew were dead by immoderate
labour and ill food; the rest were in a very weak
condition. On the 5th of November, which was
the beginning of summer in those parts, the weather
being very hazy, the seamen spied a rock within
half a cable's length of the ship; but the wind was
so strong that we were driven directly upon it, and
immediately split. Six of the crew, of whom I was
one, having let down the boat into the sea, made a
shift to get clear of the ship and the rock. We
rowed, by my computation, about three leagues, till
we were able to work no longer, being already spent
with labour while we were in the ship. We there-
fore trusted ourselves to the mercy of the waves, and
in about half an hour the boat was overset by a
sudden flurry from the north. What became of my
companions in the boat, as well as of those who es-
caped on the rock, or were left in the vessel, I can-
not tell, but conclude they were all lost.
For my
own part, I swam as Fortune directed me, and was
pushed forward by wind and tide. I often let my
legs drop, and could feel no bottom; but when I
was almost gone, and able to struggle no longer, I
found myself within my depth, and by this time the
storm was much abated. The declivity was so small
that I walked near a mile before I got to the shore,
which I conjectured was about eight o'clock in the
evening. I then advanced forward near half a mile,
but could not discover any sign of houses or inhabit-
ants; at least I was in so weak a condition that I
did not observe them. I was extremely tired, and
with that and the heat of the weather, and about
half a pint of brandy that I drank as I left the ship,
I found myself much inclined to sleep. I lay down
on the grass, which was very short and soft, where
I slept sounder than ever I remembered to have
done in my life, and, as I reckoned, about nine
hours, for when I awaked it was just daylight. I
attempted to rise, but was not able to stir; for, as I
happened to lie on my back, I found my arms and
legs were strongly fastened on each side to the
ground, and my hair, which was long and thick,
tied down in the same manner. I likewise felt
several slender ligatures across my body, from my
arm-pits to my thighs. I could only look upwards;
the sun began to grow hot, and the light offended
my eyes. I heard a confused noise about me, but,
in the posture I lay, could see nothing except the
sky. In a little time I felt something alive moving
on my left leg, which, advancing gently forward
over my breast, came almost to my chin; when,
bending my eyes downward as much as I could, I
perceived it to be a human creature not six inches
high, with a bow and arrow in his hands, and a
quiver at his back. In the mean time, I felt at least
forty more of the same kind (as I conjectured) fol-
B 2
4
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
|
lowing the first. I was in the utmost astonishment, up my left hand and both my eyes to the sun, as
and roared so loud that they all ran back in a fright; calling him for a witness; and being almost famished
and some of them, as I was afterwards told, were with hunger, having not eaten a morsel for some
hurt with the falls they got by leaping from my sides hours before I left the ship, I found the demands of
upon the ground. However, they soon returned; nature so strong upon me that I could not forbear
and one of them, who ventured so far as to get a showing my impatience (perhaps against the strict
full sight of my face, lifting up his hands and eyes rules of decency), by putting my finger frequently
by way of admiration, cried out, in a shrill but dis- to my mouth, to signify that I wanted food. The.
tinct voice, Hekinah degul; the others repeated the hurgo (for so they call a great lord, as I afterwards
same words several times; but I then knew not learned) understood me very well. He descended
what they meant. I lay all this while, as the reader from the stage, and commanded that several ladders
may believe, in great uneasiness. At length, strug- should be applied to my sides, on which above a
gling to get loose, I had the fortune to break the hundred of the inhabitants mounted, and walked
strings, and wrench out the pegs that fastened my towards my mouth, laden with baskets full of meat,
left arm to the ground; for, by lifting it up to my which had been provided and sent thither by the
face, I discovered the methods they had taken to king's orders, upon the first intelligence he received
bind me, and, at the same time, with a violent pull, of me. I observed there was the flesh of several
which gave me excessive pain, I a little loosened the animals, but could not distinguish them by the taste.
strings that tied down my hair on the left side, so There were shoulders, legs, and loins, shaped like
that I was just able to turn my head about two those of mutton, and very well dressed, but smaller
inches. But the creatures ran off a second time than the wings of a lark. I eat them by two or
before I could seize them; whereupon there was a three at a mouthful, and took three loaves at a time,
great shout, in a very shrill accent, and, after it about the bigness of musket-bullets. They supplied
ceased, I heard one of them cry aloud, Tolgo phonac; me as fast as they could, showing a thousand marks
|
when, in an instant, I felt above an hundred arrows of wonder and astonishment at my bulk and appe-
discharged on my left hand, which pricked me like tite. I then made another sign, that I wanted
so many needles; and besides, they shot another drink. They found by my eating that a small quan-
flight into the air, as we do bombs in Europe, tity would not suffice me; and, being a most inge-
whereof many, I suppose, fell on my body (though nious people, they slung up, with great dexterity,
I felt them not), and some on my face, which I im- one of their largest hogsheads, then rolled it towards
mediately covered with my left hand. When this my hand, and beat out the top: I drank it off at a
shower of arrows was over I fell a-groaning with draught, which I might well do, for it did not hold
grief and pain; and then, striving again to get loose, half a pint, and tasted like a small wine of Bur-
they discharged another volley, larger than the first, gundy, but much more delicious. They brought me
and some of them attempted, with spears, to stick a second hogshead, which I drank in the same
me in the sides; but, by good luck, I had on me a manner, and made signs for more, but they had
buff jerkin, which they could not pierce. I thought none to give me. When I had performed these
it the most prudent method to lie still; and my de- wonders they shouted for joy, and danced upon my
sign was to continue so till night, when, my left breast, repeating several times, as they did at first,
hand being already loose, I could easily free myself; Hekinah degul. They made me a sign that I should
and as for the inhabitants, I had reason to believe throw down the two hogsheads, but first warning
I might be a match for the greatest army they the people below to stand out of the way, crying
could bring against me, if they were all of the same aloud, Borach mevolah; and when they saw the
size with him that I saw. But fortune disposed vessels in the air, there was a universal shout of
otherwise of me. When the people observed I was
Hekinah degul. I confess I was often tempted,
quiet they discharged no more arrows; but by the while they were passing backwards and forwards on
noise I heard I knew their numbers increased; and my body, to seize forty or fifty of the first that came
about four yards from me, over against my right in my reach, and dash them against the ground.
ear, I heard a knocking for above an hour, like that But the remembrance of what I had felt, which pro-
of people at work, when, turning my head that way bably might not be the worst they could do, and the
as well as the pegs and strings would permit me, I promise of honour I made them-for so I interpreted
saw a stage erected about a foot and a half from the my submissive behaviour-soon drove out these
ground, capable of holding four of the inhabitants, imaginations. Besides, I now considered myself as
with two or three ladders to mount it; from whence bound by the laws of hospitality to a people who
one of them, who seemed to be a person of quality, had treated me with so much expense and mag-
made me a long speech, whereof I understood not nificence. However, in my thoughts I could not
one syllable. But I should have mentioned that, sufficiently wonder at the intrepidity of these dimi-
before the principal person began his oration, he
began his oration, he nutive mortals, who durst venture to mount and
cried out three times, Langro dehul san (these words walk upon my body, while one of my hands was at
and the former were afterwards repeated and ex- liberty, without trembling at the very sight of so
plained to me); whereupon, immediately, about prodigious a creature as I must appear to them.
fifty of the inhabitants came and cut the strings that After some time, when they observed that I made
fastened the left side of my head, which gave me no more demands for meat, there appeared before
the liberty of turning it to the right, and of observ- me a person of high rank from his imperial majesty.
ing the person and gesture of him that was to speak. His excellency, having mounted on the small of my
He appeared to be of a middle age, and taller than right leg, advanced forwards up to my face, with
any of the other three who attended him; whereof about a dozen of his retinue; and, producing his
one was a page, that held up his train, and seemed credentials, under the signet-royal, which he applied
to be somewhat longer than my middle finger; the close to my eyes, spoke about ten minutes without
other two stood one on each side to support him. any signs of anger, but with a kind of determined
He acted every part of an orator, and I could ob- resolution, often pointing forwards, which, as I af-
serve many periods of threatenings, and others of terwards found, was towards the capital city, about
promises, pity, and kindness. I answered in a few half a mile distant; whither it was agreed by his
words, but in the most submissive manner, lifting majesty in council that I must be conveyed. I
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
5
answered in a few words, but to no purpose, and
made a sign with my hand that was loose, putting
it to the other (but over his excellency's head,
for fear of hurting him or his train), and then to
my own head and body, to signify that I desired
my liberty. It appeared that he understood me
well enough, for he shook his head by way of dis-
approbation, and held his hand in a posture to show
that I must be carried as a prisoner. However, he
made other signs, to let me know that I should have
meat and drink enough, and very good treatment.
Whereupon I once more thought of attempting to
break my bonds; but again, when I felt the smart
of the arrows upon my face and hands, which were
all in blisters, and many of the darts still sticking in
them, and observing likewise that the number of
my enemies increased, I gave tokens to let them
know that they might do with me what they pleased.
Upon this the hurgo and his train withdrew, with
much civility and cheerful countenances. Soon
after I heard a general shout, with frequent repe-
titions of the words, Peplom selan; and I felt great
numbers of people on my left side, relaxing the cords
to such a degree that I was able to turn upon my
right, and to ease myself with making water, which
I very plentifully did, to the great astonishment of
the people, who, conjecturing by my motion what I
was going to do, immediately opened to the right
and left on that side, to avoid the torrent which fell
with noise and violence from me. But before
this they had daubed my face and both my hands
with a sort of ointment, very pleasant to the smell,
which, in a few minutes, removed all the smart of
their arrows. These circumstances, added to the
refreshment I had received by their victuals and
drink, which were very nourishing, disposed me to
sleep. I slept about eight hours, as I was after-
wards assured; and it was no wonder, for the phy-
sicians, by the emperor's order, had mingled a sleepy
potion in the hogsheads of wine.
It seems that, upon the first moment I was dis-
covered sleeping on the ground after my landing,
the emperor had early notice of it by an express,
and determined, in council, that I should be tied in
the manner I have related (which was done in the
night, while I slept), that plenty of meat and drink
should be sent to me, and a machine prepared to
carry me to the capital city.
This resolution, perhaps, may appear very bold
and dangerous, and, I am confident, would not be
imitated by any prince in Europe on the like occa-
sion. However, in my opinion, it was extremely
prudent, as well as generous; for, supposing these
people had endeavoured to kill me with their spears
and arrows while I was asleep, I should certainly
have awaked with the first sense of smart, which
might so far have roused my rage and strength as to
have enabled me to break the strings wherewith I
was tied; after which, as they were not able to
make resistance, so they could expect no mercy.
These people are most excellent mathematicians,
and arrived to a great perfection in mechanics, by
the countenance and encouragement of the emperor,
who is a renowned patron of learning. This prince
has several machines fixed on wheels, for the carriage
of trees and other great weights. He often builds
his largest men-of-war, whereof some are nine feet
long, in the woods where the timber grows, and has
them carried on these engines three or four hundred
yards to the sea. Five hundred carpenters and en-
gineers were immediately set at work to prepare the
greatest engine they had. It was a frame of wood
raised three inches from the ground, about seven
feet long, and four wide, moving upon twenty-two
feet long, and four wide, moving upon twenty-two
wheels. The shout I heard was upon the arrival of
this engine, which, it seems, set out in four hours
after my landing. It was brought parallel to me as
I
lay. But the principal difficulty was to raise and
place me in this vehicle. Eighty poles, each of one
foot high, were erected for this purpose, and very
strong cords, of the bigness of pack-thread, were
fastened by hooks to many bandages which the
workmen had girt round my neck, my hands, my
body, and my legs. Nine hundred of the strongest
men were employed to draw up these cords, by many
pulleys fastened on the poles; and thus, in less than
three hours, I was raised and slung into the engine,
and there tied fast. All this I was told; for, while
the whole operation was performing, I lay in a pro-
found sleep, by the force of that soporiferous medi-
cine infused into my liquor. Fifteen hundred of
the emperor's largest horses, each about four inches
and a half high, were employed to draw me towards
the metropolis, which, as I said, was half a mile
distant.
About four hours after we began our journey, I
awaked by a very ridiculous accident; for the
carriage being stopped awhile, to adjust something
that was out of order, two or three of the young na-
tives had the curiosity to see how I looked when I
was asleep; they climbed up into the engine, and,
advancing very softly to my face, one of them, an
officer in the guards, put the sharp end of his half-
pike a good way up into my left nostril, which
tickled my nose like a straw, and made me sneeze
violently; whereupon they stole off unperceived, and
it was three weeks before I knew the cause of my
waking so suddenly. We made a long march the
remaining part of the day, and rested at night with
five hundred guards on each side of me, half with
torches and half with bows and arrows, ready to
shoot me if I should offer to stir. The next morn-
ing at sunrise we continued our march, and arrived
within two hundred yards of the city-gates about
noon. The emperor, and all his court, came out to
meet us; but his great officers would by no means
suffer his majesty to endanger his person by mount-
ing on my body.
At the place where the carriage stopped there
stood an ancient temple, esteemed to be the largest
in the whole kingdom; which, having been pol-
luted some years before by an unnatural murder,
was, according to the zeal of those people, looked
upon as profane, and therefore had been applied to
common use, and all the ornaments and furniture
carried away.
In this edifice it was determined I
should lodge. The great gate fronting to the north
was about four feet high, and almost two feet wide,
through which I could easily creep. On each side
of the gate was a small window, not above six inches
from the ground: into that on the left side the
king's smith conveyed fourscore and eleven chains,
like those that hang to a lady's watch in Europe,
and almost as large, which were locked to my left
leg with six-and-thirty padlocks. Over against this
temple, on the other side of the great highway, at
twenty feet distance, there was a turret at least five
feet high. Here the emperor ascended, with many
principal lords of his court, to have an opportunity
of viewing me, as I was told, for I could not see
them. It was reckoned that above a hundred thou-
sand inhabitants came out of the town upon the
same errand; and, in spite of my guards, I believe
there could not be fewer than ten thousand at se-
veral times, who mounted my body by the help of
ladders. But a proclamation was soon issued to
forbid it upon pain of death. When the workmen
found it was impossible for me to break loose, they
6
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
cut all the strings that bound me; whereupon I rose
up with as melancholy a disposition as ever I had in
my life.
But the noise and astonishment of the
people at seeing me rise and walk are not to be ex-
pressed. The chains that held my left leg were about
two yards long, and gave me not only the liberty of
walking backwards and forwards in a semicircle,
but, being fixed within four inches of the gate,
allowed me to creep in, and lie at my full length in
the temple.
CHAPTER II.
The emperor of Lilliput, attended by several of the nobility,
comes to see the author in his confinement. The emperor's
person and habit described. Learned men appointed to
teach the author their language. He gains favour by his
mild disposition. His pockets are searched, and his sword
and pistols taken from him.
WHEN I found myself on my feet I looked about
me, and must confess I never beheld a more enter-
taining prospect. The country around appeared
like a continued garden, and the enclosed fields,
which were generally forty feet square, resembled
so many beds of flowers. These fields were inter-
mingled with woods of half a stang [a pole or perch,
5 yds.], and the tallest trees, as I could judge, ap-
peared to be seven feet high. I viewed the town
on my left hand, which looked like the painted
scene of a city in a theatre.
I had been for some hours extremely pressed by
the necessities of nature, which was no wonder, it
being almost two days since I had last disburdened
myself. I was under great difficulties between
urgency and shame. The best expedient I could
think on was to creep into my house, which I ac-
cordingly did; and, shutting the gate after me, I
went as far as the length of my chain would suffer,
and discharged my body of that uneasy load. But
this was the only time I was ever guilty of so un-
cleanly an action, for which I cannot but hope the
candid reader will give some allowance, after he has
maturely and impartially considered my case, and
the distress I was in. From this time my con-
stant practice was, as soon as I rose, to perform
that business in open air, at the full extent of my
chain; and due care was taken every morning
before company came that the offensive matter
should be carried off in wheelbarrows, by two ser-
vants appointed for that purpose. I would not have
dwelt so long upon a circumstance that, perhaps,
at first sight, may appear not very momentous, if I
had not thought it necessary to justify my character,
in point of cleanliness, to the world, which, I am
told, some of my maligners have been pleased, upon
this and other occasions, to call in question.
When this adventure was at an end I came back
out of my house, having occasion for fresh air.
The emperor was already descending from the
tower, and advancing on horseback towards me,
which had like to have cost him dear; for the beast,
though very well trained, yet wholly unused to such
a sight, which appeared as if a mountain moved
before him, reared up on his hinder feet; but that
prince, who is an excellent horseman, kept his seat
till his attendants ran in and held the bridle while
his majesty had time to dismount. When he alighted
he surveyed me round with great admiration, but
kept beyond the length of my chain. He ordered
his cooks and butlers, who were already prepared,
to give me victuals and drink, which they pushed
forward in a sort of vehicles upon wheels, till I could
reach them. I took these vehicles, and soon emptied
them all; twenty of them were filled with meat, and
ten with liquor; each of the former afforded me two
or three good mouthsful; and I emptied the liquor
of ten vessels, which was contained in earthen
vials, into one vehicle, drinking it off at a draught;
and so I did with the rest. The empress and young
princes of the blood of both sexes, attended by
many ladies, sat at some distance in their chairs;
but upon the accident that happened to the em-
peror's horse they alighted, and came near his per-
son, which I am now going to describe. He is
taller, by almost the breadth of my nail, than any of
his court, which alone is enough to strike an awe
into his beholders. His features are strong and
masculine, with an Austrian lip and arched nose,
his complexion olive, his countenance erect, his
body and limbs well proportioned, all his motions.
graceful, and his deportment majestic.
He was
then past his prime, being twenty-eight years and
three quarters old, of which he had reigned about
seven in great felicity, and generally victorious. For
the better convenience of beholding him I lay on
my side, so that my face was parallel to his, and he
stood but three yards off; however, I have had him
since many times in my hand, and therefore cannot
be deceived in the description. His dress was very
plain and simple, and the fashion of it between the
Asiatic and the European; but he had on his head
a light helmet of gold, adorned with jewels, and a
plume on the crest. He held his sword drawn in
his hand to defend himself if I should happen to
break loose; it was almost three inches long; the
hilt and scabbard were gold enriched with diamonds.
His voice was shrill, but very clear and articulate;
and I could distinctly hear it when I stood up. The
ladies and courtiers were all most magnificently clad;
so that the spot they stood upon seemed to resemble
a petticoat spread on the ground, embroidered with
figures of gold and silver. His imperial majesty
spoke often to me, and I returned answers; but
neither of us could understand a syllable. There
were several of his priests and lawyers present (as
I conjectured by their habits), who were commanded
to address themselves to me; and I spoke to them
in as many languages as I had the least smattering
of, which were high and low Dutch, Latin, French,
Spanish, Italian, and Lingua Franca, but all to no
purpose. After about two hours the court retired,
and I was left with a strong guard to prevent the
impertinence, and probably the malice, of the rabble,
who were very impatient to crowd about me as
near as they durst; and some of them had the im-
pudence to shoot their arrows at me as I sat on the
ground by the door of my house, whereof one very
narrowly missed my left eye. But the colonel or-
dered six of the ringleaders to be seized, and thought
no punishment so proper as to deliver them bound
into my hands; which some of his soldiers accord-
ingly did, pushing them forward with the butt-ends
of their pikes into my reach. I took them all in my
right hand, put five of them into my coat-pocket,
and as to the sixth, I made a countenance as if I
would eat him alive. The poor man squalled ter-
ribly, and the colonel and his officers were in much
pain, especially when they saw me take out my pen-
knife; but I soon put them out of fear, for, looking
mildly and immediately cutting the strings he was
bound with, I set him gently on the ground, and
away he ran. I treated the rest in the same manner,
taking them one by one out of my pocket; and I
observed both the soldiers and people were highly
delighted at this mark of my clemency, which was
represented very much to my advantage at court.
Towards night I got with some difficulty into my
house, where I lay on the ground, and continued to
do so about a fortnight; during which time the
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
7
emperor gave orders to have a bed prepared for me.
Six hundred beds of the common measure were
brought in carriages, and worked up in my house;
a hundred and fifty of their beds, sewn together,
made up the breadth and length; and these were
four double, which, however, kept me but very in-
differently from the hardness of the floor, that was
of smooth stone. By the same computation they
provided me with sheets, blankets, and coverlets,
tolerable enough for one who had been so long
inured to hardships.
As the news of my arrival spread through the
kingdom, it brought prodigious numbers of rich,
prodigious numbers of rich,
idle, and curious people to see me, so that the vil-
lages were almost emptied; and great neglect of
tillage and household affairs must have ensued if
his imperial majesty had not provided, by several
proclamations and orders of state, against this in-
conveniency. He directed that those who had al-
ready beheld me should return home, and not pre-
sume to come within fifty yards of my house without
licence from the court; whereby the secretaries of
state got considerable fees.
In the mean time the emperor held frequent coun-
cils to debate what course should be taken with me;
and I was afterwards assured by a particular friend,
a person of great quality, who was as much in the
secret as any, that the court was under many dif-
ficulties concerning me. They apprehended my
breaking loose; that my diet would be very ex-
pensive, and might cause a famine. Sometimes
they determined to starve me, or at least to shoot
me in the face and hands with poisoned arrows,
which would soon despatch me; but again they con-
sidered that the stench of so large a carcase might
produce a plague in the metropolis, and probably
spread through the whole kingdom. In the midst
of these consultations several officers of the army
went to the door of the great council-chamber, and
two of them, being admitted, gave an account of my
behaviour to the six criminals above mentioned,
which made so favourable an impression in the
breast of his majesty and the whole board in my
behalf, that an imperial commission was issued out,
obliging all the villages, nine hundred yards round
the city, to deliver in every morning six beeves, forty
sheep, and other victuals, for my sustenance; to-
gether with a proportionable quantity of bread, and
wine and other liquors; for the due payment of
which his majesty gave assignments upon his trea-
sury; for this prince lives chiefly upon his own
demesnes; seldom, except upon great occasions,
raising any subsidies upon his subjects, who are
bound to attend him in his wars at their own ex-
pense. An establishment was also made of six
hundred persons to be my domestics, who had board
wages allowed for their maintenance, and tents built
for them, very conveniently on each side of my door.
It was likewise ordered that three hundred tailors
should make me a suit of clothes after the fashion
of the country; that six of his majesty's greatest
scholars should be employed to instruct me in their
language; and lastly, that the emperor's horses, and
those of the nobility and troops of guards, should
be frequently exercised in my sight, to accustom
themselves to me. All these orders were duly put
in execution; and in about three weeks I made a
great progress in learning their language; during
which time the emperor frequently honoured me
with his visits, and was pleased to assist my masters
in teaching me. We began already to converse to-
gether in some sort; and the first words I learnt
were to express my desire "that he would please
to give me my liberty;" which I every day repeated
on my knees. His answer, as I could apprehend
it, was,
"that this must be a work of time, not to
be thought on without the advice of his council, and
that first I must lumos kelmin pesso desmar lon em-
poso;" that is, swear a peace with him and his
kingdom. However, that I should be used with all
kindness. And he advised me to "acquire, by my
patience and discreet behaviour, the good opinion of
himself and his subjects." He desired "I would
not take it ill if he gave orders to certain proper
officers to search me; for probably I might carry
about me several weapons which must needs be
dangerous things, if they answered the bulk of so
prodigious a person.
prodigious a person." I said, "his majesty should
be satisfied, for I was ready to strip myself and turn
up my pockets before him." This I delivered part
in words and part in signs. He replied, "that by
the laws of the kingdom I must be searched by two
of his officers; that he knew this could not be done
without my consent and assistance; and he had so
good an opinion of my generosity and justice as to
trust their persons in my hands; that whatever they
took from me should be returned when I left the
country, or paid for at the rate which I would set
upon them."
I took up the two officers in my
hands, put them first into my coat-pockets, and then
into every other pocket about me, except my two
fobs, and another secret pocket, which I had no
mind should be searched, wherein I had some little
necessaries that were of no consequence to any but
myself. In one of my fobs there was a silver watch,
and in the other a small quantity of gold in a purse.
These gentlemen, having pen, ink, and paper about
them, made an exact inventory of everything they
saw; and when they had done desired I would set
them down, that they might deliver it to the em-
peror. This inventory I afterwards translated into
English, and is, word for word, as follows:-
Imprimis, in the right coat-pocket of the great
Man-mountain (for so I interpret the words quinbus
flestrin), after the strictest search, we found only
one great piece of coarse cloth, large enough to be
a footcloth for your majesty's chief room of state.
In the left pocket we saw a huge silver chest, with
a cover of the same metal, which we the searchers
were not able to lift. We desired it should be
opened, and one of us stepping into it found him-
self up to the mid-leg in a sort of dust, some part
whereof, flying up to our faces, set us both a sneezing
for several times together. In his right waistcoat-
pocket we found a prodigious bundle of white thin
substances, folded one over another, about the big-
ness of three men, tied with a strong cable, and
marked with black figures, which we humbly con-
ceive to be writings, every letter almost half as large
as the palm of our hands. In the left there was a
sort of engine, from the back of which were ex-
tended twenty long poles, resembling the palisa-
does before your majesty's court, wherewith we
conjecture the Man-mountain combs his head; for
we did not always trouble him with questions, be-
cause we found it a great difficulty to make him un-
derstand us. In the large pocket, on the right side
of his middle cover (so I translate the word ranfu-lo,
by which they meant my breeches), we saw a hollow
pillar of iron, about the length of a man, fastened
to a strong piece of timber larger than the pillar;
and upon one side of the pillar were huge pieces of
iron sticking out, cut into strange figures, which we
know not what to make of. In the left pocket
another engine of the same kind. In the smaller
pocket, on the right side, were several round flat
pieces of white and red metal, of different bulk;
some of the white, which seemed to be silver, were
CO.
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
so large and heavy that my comrade and I could
hardly lift them. In the left pocket were two black
pillars irregularly shaped; we could not, without
difficulty, reach the top of them as we stood at the
bottom of his pocket. One of them was covered,
and seemed all of a piece; but at the upper end of
the other there appeared a white round substance,
about twice the bigness of our heads. Within each
of these was enclosed a prodigious plate of steel;
which, by our orders, we obliged him to show us,
because we apprehended they might be dangerous
engines. He took them out of their cases, and told
us that, in his own country, his practice was to
shave his beard with one of these, and cut his meat
with the other. There were two pockets which we
could not enter; these he called his fobs; they were
two large slits cut into the top of his middle cover,
but squeezed close by the pressure of his belly. Out
of the right fob hung a great silver chain, with a
wonderful kind of engine at the bottom. We di-
rected him to draw out whatever was at the end of
that chain, which appeared to be a globe, half silver,
and half of some transparent metal; for, on the
transparent side, we saw certain strange figures cir-
cularly drawn, and thought we could touch them,
till we found our fingers stopped by that lucid sub-
stance. He put this engine to our ears, which
made an incessant noise, like that of a water-mill;
and we conjecture it is either some unknown animal,
or the god that he worships; but we are more
inclined to the latter opinion, because he assured
us (if we understood him right, for he expressed
himself very imperfectly) that he seldom did any-
thing without consulting it. He called it his oracle,
and said it pointed out the time for every action of
his life. From the left fob he took out a net, al-
most large enough for a fisherman, but contrived to
open and shut like a purse, and served him for the
same use; we found therein several massy pieces
of yellow metal, which, if they be real gold, must be
of immense value.
"Having thus, in obedience to your majesty's
commands, diligently searched all his pockets, we
observed a girdle about his waist, made of the hide
of some prodigious animal, from which, on the left
side, hung a sword of the length of five men; and
on the right, a bag or pouch divided into two cells,
each cell capable of holding three of your majesty's
subjects. In one of these cells were several globes,
or balls, of a most ponderous metal, about the
bigness of our heads, and required a strong hand to
lift them; the other cell contained a heap of certain
black grains, but of no great bulk or weight, for we
could hold above fifty of them in the palms of our hands.
"This is an exact inventory of what we found
about the body of the Man-mountain, who used us
with great civility, and due respect to your ma-
jesty's commission. Signed and sealed on the
fourth day of the eighty-ninth moon of your ma-
jesty's auspicious reign.
He
"CLEFRIN FRELOCK, MARSI FRELOCK."
When this inventory was read over to the em-
peror, he directed me, although in very gentle
terms, to deliver up the several particulars.
first called for my scymitar, which I took out, scab-
bard and all. In the mean time he ordered three
thousand of his choicest troops (who then attended
him) to surround me, at a distance, with their bows
and arrows just ready to discharge; but I did not
observe it, for mine eyes were wholly fixed upon
his majesty.
He then desired me to draw my
scymitar, which, although it had got some rust by
the sea-water, was in most parts exceeding bright.
I did so, and immediately all the troops gave a
|
|
|
|
shout between terror and surprise; for the sun
shone clear, and the reflection dazzled their eyes as
I waved the scymitar to and fro in my hand.
hand. His
majesty, who is a most magnanimous prince, was
less daunted than I could expect; he ordered me
to return it to the scabbard, and cast it on the
ground as gently as I could, about six feet from the
end of my chain. The next thing he demanded
was one of the hollow iron pillars, by which he
meant my pocket pistols. I drew it out, and, at his
desire, as well as I could, expressed to him the use
of it; and, charging it only with powder, which, by
the closeness of my pouch, happened to escape wet-
ting in the sea (an inconvenience against which all
prudent mariners take special care to provide), I
first cautioned the emperor not to be afraid, and
then I let it off in the air. The astonishment here
was much greater than at the sight of the scymitar.
Hundreds fell down as if they had been struck
dead; and even the emperor, although he stood his
ground, could not recover himself for some time.
I delivered up both my pistols in the same manner
as I had done my scymitar, and then my pouch of
powder and bullets; begging him that the former
might be kept from fire, for it would kindle withi
the smallest spark, and blow up his imperial palace
into the air. I likewise delivered up my watch,
which the emperor was very curious to see, and
commanded two of his tallest yeomen of the guards
to bear it on a pole upon their shoulders, as dray-
men in England do a barrel of ale. He was amazed
at the continual noise it made, and the motion of the
minute-hand, which he could easily discern, for their
sight is much more acute than ours; he asked the
opinions of his learned men about it, which were
various and remote, as the reader may well imagine,
without my repeating; although, indeed, I could
not very perfectly understand them.
I then gave
up my silver and copper money, my purse with nine
large pieces of gold, and some smaller ones; my knife
and razor, my comb and silver snuff-box, my hand-
kerchief and journal-book. My scymitar, pistols,
and pouch, were conveyed in carriages to his ma-
jesty's stores; but the rest of my goods were re-
turned me.
I had, as I before observed, one private pocket,
which escaped their search, wherein there was a
pair of spectacles (which I sometimes use for the
weakness of mine eyes), a pocket perspective, and
some other little conveniencies; which, being of no
consequence to the emperor, I did not think myself
bound in honour to discover, and I apprehended
they might be lost or spoiled if I ventured them out
of my possession.
CHAPTER III.
The author diverts the emperor, and his nobility of both sexes,
in a very uncommon manner. The diversions of the court
of Lilliput described. The author has his liberty granted
him upon certain conditions.
My gentleness and good behaviour had gained so far
on the emperor and his court, and indeed upon the
army and people in general, that I began to conceive
hopes of getting my liberty in a short time. I took
all possible methods to cultivate this favourable dis-
position. The natives came, by degrees, to be less
apprehensive of any danger from me.
I would some-
times lie down, and let five or six of them dance on
my hand; and at last the boys and girls would ven-
ture to come and play at hide-and-seek in my hair.
I had now made a good progress in understanding
and speaking the language. The emperor had a
mind one day to entertain me with several of the
country shows, wherein they exceed all nations I
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
have known, both for dexterity and magnificence.
I was diverted with none so much as that of the
rope-dancers, performed upon a slender white thread,
extended about two feet, and twelve inches from
the ground. Upon which I shall desire liberty,
with the reader's patience, to enlarge a little.
The horses of the army, and those of the royal
stables, having been daily led before me, were no
longer shy, but would come up to my very feet with-
out starting. The riders would leap them over my
hand, as I held it on the ground; and one of the
emperor's huntsmen, upon a large courser, took my
foot, shoe and all; which was indeed a prodigious
leap. I had the good fortune to divert the emperor
one day after a very extraordinary manner. I de-
sired he would order several sticks of two feet high,
and the thickness of an ordinary cane, to be brought
me; whereupon his majesty commanded the master
of his woods to give directions accordingly; and the
next morning six woodmen arrived with as many
carriages, drawn by eight horses to each. I took
nine of these sticks, and fixing them firmly in the
ground in a quadrangular figure, two feet and a half
square, I took four other sticks, and tied them pa-
This diversion is only practised by those persons
who are candidates for great employments and high
favour at court. They are trained in this art from
their youth, and are not always of noble birth or
liberal education. When a great office is vacant,
either by death or disgrace, (which often happens,)
five or six of those candidates petition the emperor
to entertain his majesty and the court with a dance
on the rope; and whoever jumps the highest, with
out falling, succeeds in the office. Very often the
chief ministers themselves are commanded to show
their skill, and to convince the emperor that they
have not lost their faculty. Flimnap, the treasurer,arallel at each corner, about two feet from the ground;
is allowed to cut a caper on the straight rope at least
an inch higher than any other lord in the whole
empire. I have seen him do the summerset several
times together, upon a trencher fixed on a rope
which is no thicker than a common packthread in
England. My friend Reldresal, principal secretary
for private affairs, is, in my opinion, if I am not
partial, the second after the treasurer; the rest of
the great officers are much upon a par.
These diversions are often attended with fatal ac-
cidents, whereof great numbers are on record. I
myself have seen two or three candidates break a
limb. But the danger is much greater when the
ministers themselves are commanded to show their
dexterity; for, by contending to excel themselves
and their fellows, they strain so far, that there is
hardly one of them who have not received a fall,
and some of them two or three. I was assured
that, a year or two before my arrival, Flimnap would
infallibly have broke his neck, if one of the king's
cushions, that accidentally lay on the ground, had
not weakened the force of his fall.b
There is likewise another diversion, which is only
shown before the emperor and emperess and first
minister, upon particular occasions. The emperor
lays on the table three fine silken threads of six
inches long; one is blue, the other red, and the third
green. These threads are proposed as prizes for
those persons whom the emperor has a mind to dis-
tinguish by a peculiar mark of his favour. The
ceremony is performed in his majesty's great chamber
of state, where the candidates are to undergo a trial
of dexterity, very different from the former, and
such as I have not observed the least resemblance
of in any other country of the new or old world.
The emperor holds a stick in his hands, both ends
parallel to the horizon, while the candidates, ad-
vancing one by one, sometimes leap over the stick
sometimes creep under it, backward and forward,
several times, according as the stick is advanced or
depressed. Sometimes the emperor holds one end
of the stick, and his first minister the other; some-
times the minister has it entirely to himself.
ever performs his part with most agility, and holds
out the longest in leaping and creeping, is rewarded
with the blue-coloured silk; the red is given to the
next, and the green to the third, which they all wear
girt twice round about the middle; and you see few
great persons about this court who are not adorned
with one of these girdles."
Who-
a Doubtless sir Robert Walpole, then Prime Minister.
This alludes to his dismissal in 1717, through the intrigues
of Sunderland and Stanhope. The cushion was no doubt his
great intorest with the duchess of Kendal, the favourite of
George I.
Sir Robert Walpole was distinguished by the orders of the
Garter and the Batli, here so strongly ridiculed.
then I fastened my handkerchief to the nine sticks
that stood erect, and extended it on all sides till it
was tight as the top of a drum; and the four pa-
rallel sticks, rising about five inches higher than the
handkerchief, served as ledges on each side. When
I had finished my work I desired the emperor to let
a troop of his best horse, twenty-four in number, come
and exercise upon this plain. His majesty approved
of the proposal, and I took them up, one by one, in
my hands, ready mounted and armed, with the
proper officers to exercise them. As soon as they
got into order, they divided into two parties, per-
formed mock skirmishes, discharged blunt arrows,
drew their swords, fled and pursued, attacked and
retired, and, in short, discovered the best military
discipline I ever beheld. The parallel sticks secured
them and their horses from falling over the stage;
and the emperor was so much delighted, that he
ordered this entertainment to be repeated several
days, and once was pleased to be lifted up and give
the word of command; and with great difficulty per-
suaded even the empress herself to let me hold her
in her close chair within two yards of the stage,
when she was able to take a full view of the whole
performance. It was my good fortune that no ill
accident happened in these entertainments; only
once a fiery horse, that belonged to one of the cap-
tains, pawing with his hoof, struck a hole in my
handkerchief, and, his foot slipping, he overthrew his
rider and himself; but I immediately relieved them
both, and, covering the hole with one hand, I set down
the troops with the other, in the same manner as I
took them up. The horse that fell was strained in the
left shoulder, but the rider got no hurt; and I re-
paired my handkerchief as well as I could: however,
would not trust to the strength of it any more in
such dangerous enterprises.
About two or three days before I was set at liberty,
as I was entertaining the court with this kind of
feats, there arrived an express to inform his ma-
jesty that some of his subjects, riding near the place
where I was first taken up, had seen a great black
substance lying on the ground, very oddly shaped,
extending its edges round, as wide as his majesty's
bedchamber, and rising up in the middle as high as
a man; that it was no living creature, as they at first
apprehended, for it lay on the grass without motion,
and some of them had walked round it several times;
that, by mounting upon each other's shoulders, they
had got to the top, which was flat and even, and,
stamping upon it, they found that it was hollow
within; that they humbly conceived it might be
something belonging to the man-mountain; and, if
his majesty pleased, they would undertake to bring
it with only five horses. I presently knew what
they meant, and was glad at heart to receive this in-
10
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
telligence. It seems, upon my first reaching the
shore after our shipwreck, I was in such confusion,
that, before I came to the place where I went to
sleep, my hat, which I had fastened with a string to
my head while I was rowing, and had stuck on all the
time I was swimming, fell off after I came to land;
the string, as I conjecture, breaking by some accident,
which I never observed, but thought my hat had been
lost at sea.
I entreated his imperial majesty to give
orders it might be brought to me as soon as possi-
ble, describing to him the use and the nature of it;
and the next day the waggoners arrived with it, but
not in a very good condition; they had bored two
holes in the brim, within an inch and half of the
edge, and fastened two hooks in the holes; these
hooks were tied by a long cord to the harness, and
thus my hat was dragged along for above half an
English mile; but, the ground in that country being
extremely smooth and level, it received less damage
than I expected.
Two days after this adventure, the emperor, hav-
ing ordered that part of his army which quarters in
and about his metropolis to be in readiness, took a
fancy of diverting himself in a very singular manner.
He desired I would stand like a Colossus, with my
legs as far asunder as I conveniently could. He
then commanded his general (who was an old ex-
perienced leader, and a great patron of mine) to
draw up the troops in close order, and march them.
under me;
the foot by twenty-four abreast, and
the horse by sixteen, with drums beating, colours
flying, and pikes advanced. This body consisted of
three thousand foot and a thousand horse. His ma-
jesty gave orders, upon pain of death, that every sol-
dier in his march should observe the strictest decency
with regard to my person; which, however, could not
prevent some of the younger officers from turning up
their eyes as they passed under me: and, to confess
the truth, my breeches were at that time in so ill a
condition, that they afforded some opportunities for
laughter and admiration.
I had sent so many memorials and petitions for
my liberty, that his majesty at length mentioned the
matter, first in the cabinet, and then in a full coun-
cil, where it was opposed by none except Skyresh
Bolgolam, who was pleased, without any provo-
cation, to be my mortal enemy. But it was carried
against him by the whole board, and confirmed by
the emperor. That minister was galbet, or admiral
of the realm, very much in his master's confidence,
and a person well versed in affairs, but of a morose
and sour complexion. However, he was at length
persuaded to comply, but prevailed that the articles
and conditions upon which I should be set free, and
to which I must swear, should be drawn up by him-
self. These articles were brought to me by Skyresh
Bolgolam in person, attended by two under-secre-
taries and several persons of distinction. After they
were read, I was demanded to swear to the perform-
ance of them; first in the manner of my own
country, and afterwards in the method prescribed by
their laws, which was, to hold my right foot in my
left hand, and to place the middle finger of my right
hand on the crown of my head, and my thumb on
thumb on
the tip of my right ear. But, because the reader
may be curious to have some idea of the style and
manner of expression peculiar to that people, as well
as to know the articles upon which I recovered my
liberty, I have made a translation of the whole in-
strument, word for word, as near as I was able,
which I here offer to the public :
"Golbasto Momarem Evlame Gurdilo Shefin Mully
Ully Gue, most mighty emperor of Lilliput, delight
and terror of the universe, whose dominions extend
five thousand blustrugs (about twelve miles in cir-
cumference) to the extremities of the globe; monarch
of all monarchs, taller than the sons of men; whose
feet press down to the centre, and whose head strikes
against the sun; at whose nod the princes of the
earth shake their knees; pleasant as the spring, com-
fortable as the summer, fruitful as autumn, dreadful
as winter. His most sublime majesty proposes to
the man-mountain, lately arrived at our celestial do-
minions, the following articles, which, by a solemn
oath, he shall be obliged to perform :-
"1st, The man-mountain shall not depart from
our dominions without our licence under our great
seal.
"2nd, He shall not presume to come into our
metropolis without our express order; at which time
the inhabitants shall have two hours' warning to
keep within doors.
"3rd, The said man-mountain shall confine his
walks to our principal high-roads, and not offer
to walk or lie down in a meadow or field of corn.
"4th, As he walks the said roads, he shall take
the utmost care not to trample upon the bodies of
any of our loving subjects, their horses, or carriages,
nor take any of our subjects into his hands without
their own consent.
"5th, If an express requires an extraordinary
despatch, the man-mountain shall be obliged to carry,
in his pocket, the messenger and horse a six days'
journey, once in every moon, and return the said
messenger back (if so required) safe to our impe-
rial presence.
"6th, He shall be our ally against our enemies
in the island of Blefuscu,a and do his utmost to
destroy their fleet, which is now preparing to invade
us.
"7th, That the said man-mountain shall, at his
leisure, be aiding and assisting to our work-men,
in helping to raise certain great stones towards
covering the wall of the principal park, and other
our royal buildings.
"8th, That the said man-mountain shall, in two
moons' time, deliver in an exact survey of the cir-
cumference of our dominions, by a computation of
his own paces round the coast.
"Lastly, That upon his solemn oath to observe all
the above articles, the said man-mountain shall have
a daily allowance of meat and drink sufficient for
the support of 1724 of our subjects, with free access
to our royal person, and other marks of our favour.
Given at our palace at Belfaborac, the twelfth day of
the ninety-first moon of our reign."
I swore and subscribed to these articles with great
cheerfulness and content, although some of them
were not so honourable as I could have wished,
which proceeded wholly from the malice of Skyresh
Bolgolam, the high-admiral; whereupon my chains
were immediately unlocked, and I was at full liberty.
The emperor himself, in person, did me the honour
to be by at the whole ceremony. I made my ac-
knowledgments by prostrating myself at his majesty's
feet but he commanded me to rise; and after many
gracious expressions, which, to avoid the censure of
vanity, I shall not repeat, he added, "that he hoped
I should prove a useful servant, and well deserve all
the favours he had already conferred upon me, or
might do for the future."
The reader may please to observe that, in the last
article for the recovery of my liberty, the emperor
stipulates to allow me a quantity of meat and drink
sufficient for the support of 1724 Lilliputians. Some
time after, asking a friend at court how they came to
In his description of Lilliput, he had England in view;
in that of Blefuscu, France.
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT,
11
fix on that determined number, he told me that his
majesty's mathematicians, having taken the height
of my body by the help of a quadrant, and finding
to exceed theirs in the proportion of twelve to one,
they concluded, from the similarity of their bodies,
that mine must contain at least 1724 of theirs, and
consequently would require as much food as was ne-
cessary to support that number of Lilliputians. By
which the reader may conceive an idea of the in-
genuity of that people, as well as the prudent and
exact economy of so great a prince.
CHAPTER IV.
Mildendo, the metropolis of Lilliput, described, together with
the emperor's palace. A conversation between the author
and a principal secretary, concerning the affairs of that em-
pire. The author's offer to serve the emperor in his wars.
THE first request I made, after I had obtained my
liberty, was, that I might have licence to see Mil-
dendo, the metropolis; which the emperor easily
granted me, but with a special charge to do no hurt
either to the inhabitants or their houses. The people
had notice, by proclamation, of my design to visit
the town. The wall which encompassed it is two
feet and a half high, and at least eleven inches broad,
so that a coach and horses may be driven very safely
round it; and it is flanked with strong towers, at
ten feet distance. I stepped over the great western
gate, and passed very gently and sideling through
the two principal streets, only in my short waistcoat,
for fear of damaging the roofs and eaves of the houses
with the skirts of my coat. I walked with the ut-
most circumspection, to avoid treading on any strag-
glers who might remain in the streets, although the
orders were very strict that all people should keep in
their houses, at their own peril. The garret windows
and tops of houses were so crowded with spectators,
that I thought in all my travels I had not seen a
more populous place. The city is an exact square,
each side of the wall being five hundred feet long.
The two great streets, which run across, and divide
it into four quarters, are five feet wide. The lanes
and alleys, which I could not enter, but only viewed
them as I passed, are from twelve to eighteen inches.
The town is capable of holding five hundred thou-
sand souls: the houses are from three to five stories:
the shops and markets well provided.
The emperor's palace is in the centre of the city,
where the two great streets meet. It is enclosed by
a wall of two feet high, and twenty feet distance from
the buildings. I had his majesty's permission to
step over this wall; and the space being so wide be-
tween that and the palace, I could easily view it on
every side. The outward court is a square of forty
feet, and includes two other courts: in the inmost
are the royal apartments, which I was very desirous
to see,
but found it extremely difficult; for the great
gates, from one square into another, were but eighteen
inches high, and seven inches wide. Now the build-
ings of the outer court were at least five feet high,
and it was impossible for me to stride over them
without infinite damage to the pile, though the walls
were strongly built of hewn stone, and four inches
thick. At the same time the emperor had a great
desire that I should see the magnificence of his pa-
lace; but this I was not able to do till three days
after, which I spent in cutting down with my knife
some of the largest trees in the royal park, about a
hundred yards distance from the city. Of these trees
I made two stools, each about three feet high, and
strong enough to bear my weight. The people having
received notice a second time, I went again through
the city to the palace with my two stools in my hands.
When I came to the side of the outer court, I stood
hand; this
upon one stool, and took the other in my hand;
I lifted over the roof, and gently set it down on the
space between the first and second court, which was
eight feet wide. I then stepped over the building very
conveniently from one stool to the other, and drew
up the first after me with a hooked stick. By this
contrivance I got into the inmost court; and, lying
down upon my side, I applied my face to the win-
dows of the middle stories, which were left open on
purpose, and discovered the most splendid apart-
ments that can be imagined. There I saw the em-
press and the young princes, in their several lodgings,
with their chief attendants about them. Her impe-
rial majesty was pleased to smile very graciously
upon me, and gave me out of the window her hand
to kiss.
But I shall not anticipate the reader with further
descriptions of this kind, because I reserve them for
a greater work, which is now almost ready for the
press; containing a general description of this em-
pire, from its first erection, through a long series of
princes; with a particular account of their wars and
politics, laws, learning, and religion; their plants
and animals, their peculiar manners and customs,
with other matters
with other matters very curious and useful; my chief
design at present being only to relate such events
and transactions as happened to the public or to my-
self during a residence of about nine months in that
empire.
One morning, about a fortnight after I had ob-
tained my liberty, Reldresal, principal secretary (as
they style him) for private affairs, came to my house
attended only by one servant. He ordered his coach
to wait at a distance, and desired I would give him
an hour's audience; which I readily consented to,
on account of his quality and personal merits, as
well as of the many good offices he had done me
during my solicitations at court. I offered to lie
down, that he might the more conveniently reach
my ear; but he chose rather to let me hold him in
my hand during our conversation. He began with
compliments on my liberty; said, "he might pre-
tend to some merit in it;
tend to some merit in it;" but, however, added,
“that if it had not been for the present situation of
things at court, perhaps I might not have obtained
it so soon. For," said he, " as flourishing a condi-
tion as we may appear to be in to foreigners, we la-
bour under two mighty evils; a violent faction at
home, and the danger of an invasion, by a most po-
tent enemy, from abroad. As to the first, you are
to understand that for above seventy moons past
there have been two straggling parties in this empire,
under the names of Tramecksan and Slamecksanª,
from the high and low heels of their shoes, by which
they distinguish themselves. It is alleged, indeed,
that the high heels are most agreeable to our ancient
constitution; but, however this be, his majesty has
determined to make use only of low heels in the ad-
ministration of the government, and all offices in the
gift of the crown, as you cannot but observe; and
particularly, that his majesty's imperial heels are
lower at least by a drurr than any of his court
(drurr is a measure about the fourteenth part of an
inch). The animosities between these two parties
run so high, that they will neither eat, nor drink,
nor talk with each other. We compute the Tra-
mecksan, or high heels, to exceed us in number;
but the power is wholly on our side. We apprehend
his imperial highness, the heir to the crown, to have
some tendency towards the high heels; at least, we
can plainly discover that one of his heels is higher
a High-church and low-church, or whig and tory.
12
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
than the other, which gives him a hobble in his gait ª.
Now, in the midst of these intestine disquiets, we
are threatened with an invasion from the island of
Blefuscu, which is the other great empire of the uni-
verse, almost as large and powerful as this of his ma-
jesty. For, as to what we have heard you affirm,
that there are other kingdoms and states in the world,
inhabited by human creatures as large as yourself,
our philosophers are in much doubt, and would ra-
ther conjecture that you dropped from the moon, or
one of the stars: because it is certain that a hun-
dred mortals of your bulk would in a short time de-
stroy all the fruits and cattle of his majesty's domi-
nions: besides, our histories of six thousand moons
to the emperor; and to let him know "that I
thought it would not become me, who was a foreigner,
to interfere with parties; but I was ready, with the
hazard of my life, to defend his person and state
against all invaders."
CHAPTER V.
The author, by an extraordinary stratagem, prevents an inva-
sion. A high title of honour is conferred upon him. Am.
bassadors arrive from the emperor of Blefuscu, and sue for
peace. The empress's apartment on fire by accident; the
author instrumental in saving the rest of the palace.
THE empire of Blefuscu is an island situated to the
north-east of Lilliput, from which it is parted only
by a channel of eight hundred yards wide. I had
not yet seen it, and, upon this notice of an intended
invasion, I avoided appearing on that side of the
coast, for fear of being discovered by some of the
enemy's ships, who had received no intelligence of
me; all intercourse between the two empires having
been strictly forbidden during the war, upon pain of
death, and an embargo laid by our emperor upon
all vessels whatsoever. I communicated to his ma-
make no mention of any other regions than the two
great empires of Lilliput and Blefuscu. Which two
mighty powers have, as I was going to tell you, been
engaged in a most obstinate war for six-and-thirty
moons past. It began upon the following occasion:
it is allowed on all hands that the primitive way of
breaking eggs, before we eat them, was upon the
larger end; but his present majesty's grandfather,
while he was a boy, going to eat an egg, and break-
ing it according to the ancient practice, happened to
cut one of his fingers. Whereupon the emperor his jesty a project I had formed of seizing the enemy's
whole fleet; which, as our scouts assured us, lay at
father published an edict, commanding all his sub-
anchor in the harbour, ready to sail with the first
jects, upon great penalties, to break the smaller end
fair wind. I consulted the most experienced seamen
of their eggs. The people so highly resented this
upon the depth of the channel, which they had often
law, that our histories tell us there have been six
plumbed; who told me that in the middle, at high
rebellions raised on that account; wherein one em-
water, it was seventy glumgluffs deep, which is about
peror lost his life, and another his crown. These
six feet of European measure; and the rest of it fifty
civil commotions were constantly fomented by the glumgluffs at most. I walked toward the north-east
monarchs of Blefuscu; and when they were quelled,
the exiles always fled for refuge to that empire. It hind a hillock, I took out my small perspective glass,
coast, over against Blefuscu, where, lying down be-
is computed that eleven thousand persons have at
and viewed the enemy's fleet at anchor, consisting
several times suffered death, rather than submit to
of about fifty men-of-war, and a great number of
break their eggs at the smaller end. Many hundred
transports: I then came back to my house, and gave
large volumes have been published upon this contro-
orders (for which I had a warrant) for a great quan-
versy but the books of the big-endians have been
tity of the strongest cable and bars of iron. The
long forbidden, and the whole party rendered inca-
cable was about as thick as packthread, and the bars
pable by law of holding employments. During the
of the length and size of a knitting-needle. I trebled
course of these troubles, the emperors of Blefuscu
the cable to make it stronger, and for the same reason
did frequently expostulate by their ambassadors, I twisted three of the iron bars together, bending the
accusing us of making a schism in religion, by offend-
extremities into a hook. Having thus fixed fifty
ing against a fundamental doctrine of our great pro-
hooks to as many cables, I went back to the north-
phet Lustrog, in the fifty-fourth chapter of the Blun-
east coast, and, putting off my coat, shoes, and
decral (which is their Alcoran). This, however, is
stockings, walked into the
thought to be a mere strain upon the text; for the
sea, in
leathern
my
I
words are these: that all true believers break their jerkin, about half an hour before high water.
waded with what haste I could, and swam in the
eggs at the convenient end. And which is the con-
middle about thirty yards, till I felt ground. I
venient end seems, in my humble opinion, to be
arrived at the fleet in less than half an hour.
left to every man's conscience, or at least in the
power of the chief magistrate to determine. Now,
enemy was so frighted when they saw me, that they
the big-endian exiles have found so much credit in leaped out of their ships, and swam to shore, where
there could not be fewer than thirty thousand souls :
the emperor of Blefuscu's court, and so much private I then took my tackling, and, fastening a hook to
assistance and encouragement from their party here
the hole at the prow of each, I tied all the cords to-
at home, that a bloody war had been carried on be-gether at the end. While I was thus employed the
tween the two empires for six-and-thirty moons, with
various success: during which time we have lost
forty capital ships and a much greater number of
smaller vessels, together with thirty thousand of our
best seamen and soldiers; and the damage received
by the enemy is reckoned to be somewhat greater
than ours. However, they have now equipped a
numerous fleet, and are just preparing to make a
descent upon us; and his imperial majesty, placing
great confidence in your valour and strength, has
commanded me to lay this account of his affairs be-
fore you."
I desired the secretary to present my humble duty
"George II., then heir apparent, who is thus represented
hobbling between the two political creeds.
ians.
Papists and protestants are the big-endians and small-end-
The
enemy discharged several thousand arrows, many
of
which stuck in my hands and face; and, besides the
excessive smart, gave me much disturbance in my
work. My greatest apprehension was for mine eyes,
which I should have infallibly lost if I had not sud-
denly thought of an expedient. I kept, among other
little necessaries, a pair of spectacles in a private
pocket, which, as I observed before, had escaped the
emperor's searchers. These I took out, and fastened
as strongly as I could upon my nose, and, thus armed,
went on boldly with my work, in spite of the enemy's
arrows; many of which struck against the glasses of
my spectacles, but without any other effect further
than a little to discompose them. I had now fastened
all the hooks, and, taking the knot in my hand, be-
gan to pull; but not a ship would stir, for they were
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
13
all too fast held by their anchors, so that the boldest
part of my enterprise remained. I therefore let go
the cord, and, leaving the hooks fixed to the ships,
I resolutely cut with my knife the cables that fastened
the anchors, receiving about two hundred shots in
my
face and hands; then I took up the knotted end
of the cables, to which my hooks were tied, and with
great ease drew fifty of the enemy's largest men-of-
war after me.
|
About three weeks after this exploit, there arrived
a solemn embassy from Blefuscu, with humble offers
of a peace; which was soon concluded, upon con-
ditions very advantageous to our emperor, where-
with I shall not trouble the reader. There were six
ambassadors, with a train of about five hundred per-
sons; and their entry was very magnificent, suit-
able to the grandeur of their master and the import-
ance of their business. When their treaty was finish-
credit I now had, or at least appeared to have, at
court, their excellencies, who were privately told
how much I had been their friend, made me a visit
in form. They began with many compliments upon
my valour and generosity, invited me to that king-
dom in the emperor their master's name, and desired
me to show them some proofs of my prodigious
strength, of which they had heard so many wonders;
wherein I readily obliged them, but shall not trouble
the reader with the particulars.
The Blefuscudians, who had not the least imagined, wherein I did them several good offices by the
ation of what I intended, were at first confounded
with astonishment. They had seen me cut the cables,
and thought my design was only to let the ships run
adrift, or fall foul on each other; but when they
perceived the whole fleet moving in order, and saw
me pulling at the end, they set up such a scream of
grief and despair as it is almost impossible to de-
scribe or conceive. When I had got out of danger,
I stopped awhile to pick out the arrows that stuck
in my hands and face; and rubbed on some of the
same ointment that was given me at my first arrival,
as I formerly mentioned. I then took off my spec-
tacles, and, waiting about an hour, till the tide was
a little fallen, I waded through the middle with my
cargo, and arrived safe at the royal port of Lilliput.
The emperor and his whole court stood on the
shore, expecting the issue of this great adventure.
They saw the ships move forward in a large half-
moon, but could not discern me, who was up to my
breast in water. When I advanced to the middle of
the channel they were yet more in pain, because I
was under water to my neck. The emperor con-
cluded me to be drowned, and that the enemy's fleet
was approaching in a hostile manner: but he was
soon eased of his fears; for, the channel growing
shallower at every step I made, I came in a short
time within hearing, and, holding up the end of the
cable, by which the fleet was fastened, I cried in a
loud voice, "Long live the most puissant king of
Lilliput!" This great prince received me at my
landing with all possible encomiums, and created me
a nardac upon the spot, which is the highest title of
honour among them.
His majesty desired I would take some other op-
portunity of bringing all the rest of his enemy's ships
into his ports. And so unmeasurable is the ambi-
tion of princes, that he seemed to think of nothing
less than reducing the whole empire of Blefuscu
into a province, and governing it by a viceroy; of
destroying the big-endian exiles, and compelling that
people to break the smaller end of their eggs, by
which he would remain the sole monarch of the
whole world. But I endeavoured to divert him
from this design, by many arguments drawn from
the topics of policy as well as justice; and I plainly
protested that I would never be an instrument of
bringing a free and brave people into slavery." And,
when the matter was debated in council, the wisest
part of the ministry were of my opinion.
This open, bold declaration of mine was so oppo-
site to the schemes and politics of his imperial ma-
jesty, that he could never forgive me. He mentioned
it in a very artful manner at council, where I was
told that some of the wisest appeared, at least by
their silence, to be of my opinion; but others, who
were my secret enemies, could not forbear some ex-
pressions, which, by a side-wind, reflected on me.
And from this time began an intrigue between his
majesty and a junto of ministers, maliciously bent
against me, which broke out in less than two months,
and had like to have ended in my utter destruction.
Of so little weight are the greatest services to
princes, when put into the balance with a refusal to
gratify their passions.
When I had for some time entertained their ex-
cellencies, to their infinite satisfaction and surprise,
I desired they would do me the honour to present
my most humble respects to the emperor their master,
the renown of whose virtues had so justly filled the
whole world with admiration, and whose royal per-
son I resolved to attend before I returned to my
own country. Accordingly, the next time I had the
honour to see our emperor, I desired his general
licence to wait on the Blefuscudian monarch, which
he was pleased to grant me, as I could plainly per-
ceive, in a very cold manner; but could not guess
the reason till I had a whisper from a certain per-
son, "that Flimnap and Bolgolam had represented
my intercourse with those ambassadors as a mark of
disaffection;" from which I am sure my heart was
wholly free. And this was the first time I began to
conceive some imperfect idea of courts and mi-
nisters.
It is to be observed that these ambassadors spoke
to me by an interpreter, the languages of both em-
pires differing as much from each other as any two
in Europe, and each nation priding itself upon the
antiquity, beauty, and energy of their own tongues,
with an avowed contempt for that of their neigh-
bour: yet our emperor, standing upon the advan-
tage he had got by the seizure of their fleet, obliged
them to deliver their credentials and make their
speech in the Lilliputian tongue. And it must be
confessed, that, from the great intercourse of trade
and commerce between both realms, from the con-
tinual reception of exiles, which is mutual among
them, and from the custom, in each empire, to send
their young nobility and richer gentry to the other,
in order to polish themselves by seeing the world
and understanding men and manners, there are few
persons of distinction, or merchants, or seamen, who
dwell in the maritime parts, but what can hold con-
versation in both tongues; as I found some weeks
after, when I went to pay my respects to the em-
peror of Blefuscu, which, in the midst of great mis-
fortunes, through the malice of my enemies, proved
a very happy adventure to me, as I shall relate in its
proper place.
The reader may remember that, when I signed
those articles upon which I recovered my liberty,
there were some which I disliked, upon account of
their being too servile; neither could anything but
an extreme necessity have forced me to submit.
But being now a nardac of the highest rank in that
empire, such offices were looked upon as below my
dignity, and the emperor (to do him justice) never
once mentioned them to me. However, it was not
long before I had an opportunity of doing his ma-
14
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
I
jesty, at least as I then thought, a most signal ser-
vice. I was alarmed at midnight with the cries of
many hundred people at my door; by which being
suddenly awaked, I was in some kind of terror.
heard the word burglum repeated incessantly: seve-
ral of the emperor's court making their way through
the crowd entreated me to come immediately to the
palace where her imperial majesty's apartment was
on fire, by the carelessness of a maid of honour, who
fell asleep while she was reading a romance.
I got
up in an instant; and orders being given to clear
the way before me,
and it being likewise a moon-
shine night, I made a shift to get to the palace with-
out trampling on any of the people. I found they
I found they
had already applied ladders to the walls of the apart-
ment, and were well provided with buckets, but the
water was at some distance. These buckets were
about the size of large thimbles, and the poor people
supplied me with them as fast as they could; but the
flame was so violent that they did little good. I
might easily have stifled it with my coat, which
I unfortunately left behind me for haste, and came
away only in my leathern jerkin. The case seemed
wholly desperate and deplorable: and this magnifi-
cent palace would have infallibly been burnt down
to the ground if, by a presence of mind unusual to
me, I had not suddenly thought of an expedient. I
had the evening before drunk plentifully of a most
delicious wine called glimigrim, (the Blefuscudians
call it flunec, but ours is esteemed the better sort,)
which is very diuretic. By the luckiest chance in
the world I had not discharged myself of any part
of it. The heat I had contracted by coming very
near the flames, and by my labouring to quench
them, made the wine begin to operate by urine;
which I voided in such a quantity, and applied so
well to the proper places, that in three minutes the
fire was wholly extinguished, and the rest of that
noble pile, which had cost so many ages in erecting,
preserved from destruction.
It was now daylight, and I returned to my house
without waiting to congratulate with the emperor;
because, although I had done a very eminent piece
of service, yet I could not tell how his majesty might
resent the manner by which I had performed it:
for, by the fundamental laws of the realm, it is capi-
tal in any person, of what quality soever, to make
water within the precincts of the palace. But I
was a little comforted by a message from his ma-
jesty, "that he would give orders to the grand justi-
ciary for passing my pardon in form:" which, how-
ever, I could not obtain. And I was privately
assured "that the empress, conceiving the greatest
abhorrence of what I had done, removed to the most
distant side of the court, firmly resolved that those
buildings should never be repaired for her use; and,
in the presence of her chief confidants, could not
forbear vowing revenge."
CHAPTER VI.
Of the inhabitants of Lilliput; their learning, laws, and
customs: the manner of educating their children. The
Author's way of living in that country. His vindication of a
great lady.
ALTHOUGH I intend to leave the description of this
empire to a particular treatise, yet, in the mean time,
I am content to gratify the curious reader with some
general ideas. As the common size of the natives
is somewhat under six inches high, so there is an
exact proportion in all other animals, as well
as plants and trees: for instance, the tallest horses
and oxen
are between four and five inches in
height, the sheep an inch and half, more or less;
their geese about the bigness of a sparrow, and so
the several gradations downwards, till you come to
the smallest, which, to my sight, were almost invi-
sible; but nature has adapted the eyes of the Lilli-
putians to all objects proper for their view: they
see with great exactness, but at no great distance.
And, to show the sharpness of their sight towards ob-
jects that are near, I have been much pleased with
observing a cook pulling a lark, which was not so
large as a common fly; and a young girl threading
an invisible needle with invisible silk. Their tallest
trees are about seven feet high; I mean some of
those in the royal park, the tops whereof I could but
just reach with my fist clinched. The other vege-
tables are in the same proportion: but this I leave
to the reader's imagination.
I shall say but little at present of their learning,
which for many ages has flourished in all its branches
among them; but their manner of writing is very
peculiar, being neither from the left to the right, like
the Europeans; nor from the right to the left, like
the Arabians; nor from up to down, like the Chi-
nese; but aslant, from one corner of the paper to
the other, like ladies in England.
They bury their dead with their heads directly
downward, because they hold an opinion that in
eleven thousand moons they are all to rise again; in
which period the earth (which they conceive to be
flat) will turn upside down, and by this means they
shall at their resurrection be found ready standing
on their feet. The learned among them confess the
absurdity of this doctrine, but the practice still con-
tinues, in compliance to the vulgar.
There are some laws and customs in this empire
very peculiar, and, if they were not so directly con-
trary to those of my own dear country, I should be
tempted to say a little in their justification. It is
only to be wished they were as well executed. The
first I shall mention relates to informers. All crimes
against the state are punished here with the utmost
severity; but, if the person accused makes his inno-
cence plainly to appear upon his trial, the accuser is
immediately put to an ignominious death; and out
of his goods or lands the innocent person is quadru-
ply recompensed for the loss of his time, for the dan-
ger
he underwent, for the hardship of his imprison-
ment, and for all the charges he has been at in mak-
ing his defence. Or, if that fund be deficient, it is
largely supplied by the crown. The emperor also
confers on him some public mark of his favour, and
proclamation is made of his innocence through the
whole city.
They look upon fraud as a greater crime than
theft, and therefore seldom fail to punish it with
death; for they allege that care and vigilance, with
a very common understanding, may preserve a man's
goods from thieves, but honesty has no fence against
superior cunning; and, since it is necessary that
there should be a perpetual intercourse of buying
and selling, and dealing upon credit, where fraud is
permitted and connived at, or has no law to punish
it, the honest dealer is always undone, and the
knave gets the advantage. I remember, when
was once interceding with the king for a criminal
who had wronged his master of a great sum of
money, which he had received by order, and ran
away with; and happening to tell his majesty, by
way of extenuation, that it was only a breach of
trust, the emperor thought it monstrous in me to
offer as a defence the greatest aggravation of the
crime; and truly I had little to say in return, fur-
ther than the common answer, that different nations
had different customs; for, I confess, I was heartily
ashamed.
Although we usually call reward and punishment
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
15
the two hinges upon which all government turns,
yet I could never observe this maxim to be put in
practice by any nation, except that of Lilliput. Who-
ever can there bring sufficient proof that he has
strictly observed the laws of his country for seventy-
three moons, has a claim to certain privileges, ac-
cording to his quality or condition of life, with a
proportionable sum of money out of a fund appro-
priated for that use: he likewise acquires the title
of snilpall, or legal, which is added to his name, but
does not descend to his posterity. And these people
thought it a prodigious defect of policy among us,
when I told them that our laws were enforced only
by penalties, without any mention of reward. It is
upon this account that the image of Justice, in their
courts of judicature, is formed with six eyes, two
before, as many behind, and on each side one, to
signify circumspection; with a bag of gold open in
her right hand, and a sword sheathed in her left, to
show she is more disposed to reward than to punish.
In choosing persons for all employments, they have
more regard to good morals than to great abilities;
for, since government is necessary to mankind, they
believe that the common size of human understand-
ing is fitted to some station or other; and that Pro-
vidence never intended to make the management of
public affairs a mystery to be comprehended only by'
a few persons of sublime genius, of which there sel-
dom are three born in an age: but they suppose
truth, justice, temperance, and the like, to be in
every man's power; the practice of which virtues,
assisted by experience and a good intention, would
qualify any man for the service of his country, except
where a course of study is required. But they thought
the want of moral virtues was so far from being sup-
plied by superior endowments of the mind, that em-
ployments could never be put into such dangerous
hands as those of persons so qualified; and, at least,
that the mistakes committed by ignorance, in a vir-
tuous disposition, would never be of such fatal con-
sequence to the public weal as the practices of a
man whose inclinations led him to be corrupt, and
who had great abilities to manage, to multiply, and
defend his corruptions.
that men and women are joined together, like other
animals, by the motives of concupiscence; and that
their tenderness towards their young proceeds from
the like natural principle: for which reason they will
never allow that a child is under any obligation tɔ
his father for begetting him, or to his mother for
bringing him into the world; which, considering
the miseries of human life, was neither a benefit in
itself, nor intended so by his parents, whose thoughts
in their love encounters were otherwise employed.
Upon these and the like reasonings, their opinion
is, that parents are the last of all others to be trusted
with the education of their own children: and
therefore they have in every town public nurseries,
where all parents, except cottagers and labourers,
are obliged to send their infants of both sexes to be
reared and educated, when they come to the age of
twenty moons, at which time they are supposed to
have some rudiments of docility. These schools
are of several kinds, suited to different qualities
and to both sexes. They have certain professors,
well skilled in preparing children for such a condi-
tion of life as befits the rank of their parents, and
their own capacities, as well as inclinations. I shall
first say something of the male nurseries, and then
of the female.
The nurseries for males of noble or eminent birth
are provided with grave and learned professors, and
their several deputies. The clothes and food of the
children are plain and simple. They are bred up in
the principles of honour, justice, courage, modesty,
clemency, religion, and love of their country; they
are always employed in some business, except in times
of eating and sleeping, which are very short, and
two hours for diversions consisting of bodily exer-
cises. They are dressed by men till four years of
age, and then are obliged to dress themselves, al-
though their quality be ever so great; and the wo-
men attendants, who are aged proportionably to
ours at fifty, perform only the most menial offices.
They are never suffered to converse with servants,
but go together in smaller or greater numbers to take
their diversions, and always in the presence of a
professor or one of his deputies: whereby they avoid
those early bad impressions of folly and vice to which
our children are subject. Their parents are suffered
to see them only twice a-year; the visit is to last but
an hour; they are allowed to kiss the child at meet-
In like manner, the disbelief of a Divine Provi-
dence renders a man incapable of holding any public
station; for, since kings avow themselves to be the
deputies of Providence, the Lilliputians think no-
thing can be more absurd than for a prince to employing and parting; but a professor, who always stands
such men as disown the authority under which be
acts.
In relating these and the following laws, I would
only be understood to mean the original institutions,
and not the most scandalous corruptions into which
these people are fallen by the degenerate nature of
man. For, as to that infamous practice of acquiring
great employments by dancing on the ropes, or
badges of favour and distinction by leaping over
sticks and creeping under them, the reader is to ob-
serve that they were first introduced by the grand-
father of the emperor now reigning, and grew to the
present height by the gradual increase of party and
faction.
Ingratitude is among them a capital crime, as we
read it to have been in some other countries; for
they reason thus, that whoever makes ill returns to
his benefactor must needs be a common enemy to
the rest of mankind, from whom he has received no
obligation, and therefore such a man is not fit to live.
Their notions relating to the duties of parents and
children differ extremely from ours. For, since the
conjunction of male and female is founded upon the
great law of nature, in order to propagate and conti-
nue the species, the Lilliputians will needs have it
by on those occasions, will not suffer them to whis-
per, or use any fondling expressions, or bring any
presents of toys, sweetmeats, and the like.
The pension from each family for the education
and entertainment of a child, upon failure of due
payment, is levied by the emperor's officers.
The nurseries for children of ordinary gentlemen,
merchants, traders, and handicrafts, are managed
proportionably after the same manner; only those
designed for trades are put out apprentices at eleven
years old; whereas those of persons of quality con-
tinue in their exercises till fifteen, which answers to
twenty-one with us; but the confinement is gradu-
ally lessened for the last three years.
In the female nurseries, the young girls of quality
are educated much like the males, only they are
dressed by orderly servants of their own sex, but
always in the presence of a professor or deputy, till
they come to dress themselves, which is at five years
old. And if it be found that these nurses ever pre-
sume to entertain the girls with frightful or foolish
stories, or the common follies practised by chamber-
maids among us, they are publicly whipped thrice
about the city, imprisoned for a year, and banished
for life to the most desolate part of the country.
16
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
Thus, the young ladies there are as much ashamed
of being cowards and fools as the men, and despise
all personal ornaments beyond decency and cleanli-
ness: neither did I perceive any difference in their
education made by their difference of sex, only that
the exercises of the females were not altogether so ro-
bust, and that some rules were given them relating to
domestic life, and a smaller compass of learning was
enjoined them: for their maxim is, that among peo-
ple of quality a wife should be always a reasonable
and agreeable companion, because she cannot always
be young.
When the girls are twelve years old,
which among them is the marriageable age, their
parents or guardians take them home, with great
expressions of gratitude to the professors, and sel-
dom without tears of the young lady and her com-
panions.
In the nurseries of females of the meaner sort, the
children are instructed in all kinds of works proper
for their sex and their several degrees: those in-
tended for apprentices are dismissed at seven years
old, the rest are kept till eleven.
The meaner families who have children at these
nurseries are obliged, beside their annual pension,
which is as low as possible, to return to the steward
of the nursery a small monthly share of their get-
tings, to be a portion for the child; and therefore all
parents are limited in their expenses by the law.
For the Lilliputians think nothing can be more un-
just than for people, in subservience to their own.
appetites, to bring children into the world, and leave
the burden of supporting them on the public. As
to persons of quality, they give security to appro-
priate a certain sum for each child, suitable to their
condition; and these funds are always managed with
good husbandry and the most exact justice.
The cottagers and labourers keep their children
at home, their business being only to till and culti-
vate the earth, and therefore their education is of
little consequence to the public; but the old and
diseased among them are supported by hospitals, for
begging is a trade unknown in this empire.
And here it may perhaps divert the curious' rea-
der to give some account of my domestics, and my
manner of living in this country, during a residence
of nine months and thirteen days. Having a head
mechanically turned, and being likewise forced by
necessity, I had made for myself a table and chair
convenient enough, out of the largest trees in the
royal park. Two hundred sempstresses were em-
ployed to make me shirts and linen for my bed and
table, all of the strongest and coarsest kind they
could get; which however they were forced to quilt
together in several folds, for the thickest was some
degrees finer than lawn. Their linen is usual three
inches wide, and three feet make a piece. The
sempstresses took my measure as I lay on the
ground, one standing at my neck, and another at
my mid-leg, with a strong cord extended, that each
held by the end, while a third measured the length
of the cord with a rule of an inch long. Then they
measured my right thumb, and desired no more;
for, by a mathematical computation that twice round
the thumb is once round the wrist, and so on to the
neck and the waist; and by the help of my old shirt,
which I displayed on the ground before them for a
pattern, they fitted me exactly. Three hundred tai-
lors were employed in the same manner to make me
clothes, but they had another contrivance for taking
my measure. I kneeled down, and they raised a
ladder from the ground to my neck; upon this lad-
der one of them mounted, and let fall a plumb-line
from my collar to the floor, which just answered the
length of my coat, but my waist and arms I mea-
sured myself. When my clothes were finished,
which was done in my house, (for the largest of
theirs would not have been able to hold them,) they
looked like the patch-work made by the ladies in
England, only that mine were all of a colour.
I had three hundred cooks to dress my victuals,
in little convenient huts built about my house, where
they and their families lived, and prepared me two
dishes apiece. I took up twenty waiters in my
hand, and placed them on the table: a hundred
more attended below on the ground, some with
dishes of meat, and some with barrels of wine and
other liquors slung on their shoulders; all which
the waiters above drew up as I wanted, in a very
ingenious manner, by certain cords, as we draw the
bucket up a well in Europe. A dish of their meat
was a good mouthful, and a barrel of their liquor a
reasonable draught. Their mutton yields to ours,
but their beef is excellent. I have had a sirloin so
large that I have been forced to make three bites of
it, but this is rare. My servants were astonished to
see me eat it, bones and all, as in our country we
do the leg of a lark. Their geese and turkeys I
usually eat at a mouthful, and I confess they far ex-
ceed ours. Of their smaller fowl I could take up
twenty or thirty at the end of my knife.
One day his imperial majesty, being informed of
my way of living, desired "that himself and his
royal consort, with the young princes of the blood
of both sexes, might have the happiness," as he was
pleased to call it, "of dining with me." They came
accordingly, and I placed them in chairs of state
upon my table, just over against me, with their
guards about them. Flimnap, [sir Rt. Walpole,]
the lord high treasurer, attended there likewise with
his white staff; and I observed he often looked on
me with a sour countenance, which I would not
seem to regard, but eat more than usual, in honour
to my dear country, as well as to fill the court with
admiration. I have some private reasons to believe
that this visit from his majesty gave Flimnap an op-
portunity of doing me ill offices to his master. That
minister had always been my secret enemy, though
he outwardly caressed me more than was usual to
the moroseness of his nature. He represented to the
emperor "the low condition of his treasury; that he
was forced to take up money at a great discount;
that exchequer bills would not circulate under nine
per cent. below par; that I had cost his majesty above
a million and a half of sprugs (their greatest gold
coin, about the bigness of a spangle); and, upon the
whole, that it would be advisable in the emperor to
take the first fair occasion of dismissing me."
I am here obliged to vindicate the reputation of
an excellent lady, who was an innocent sufferer upon
my account. The treasurer took a fancy to be jealous
of his wife, from the malice of some evil tongues,
who informed him that her grace had taken a violent
affection for my person; and the court scandal ran
for some time that she once came privately to my
lodging. This I solemnly declare to be a most in-
famous falsehood, without any grounds, further than
that her grace was pleased to treat me with all in-
nocent marks of freedom and friendship. I own she
often came to my house, but always publicly, nor
ever without three more in the coach, who were
usually her sister and young daughter, and some par-
ticular acquaintance; but this was common to many
other ladies of the court. And I still appeal to my
servants round, whether they at any time saw a coach
at my door without knowing what persons were in
it. On those occasions, when a servant had given
me notice, my custom was to go immediately to the
door, and, after paying my respects, to take up the
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
17
coach and two horses very carefully in my hands, ¡
(for, if there were six horses, the postillion always
unharnessed four,) and placed them on a table,
where I had fixed a moveable rim quite round, of
five inches high, to prevent accidents. And I have
often had four coaches and horses at once on my
table, full of company, while I sat in my chair, leaning
my face towards them; and when I was engaged
with one set, the coachman would gently drive the
others round my table. I have passed many an af-
ternoon very agreeably in these conversations. But
(galbet, or high-admiral) has been your mortal enemy
almost ever since your arrival. His original reasons I
know not; but his hatred is increased since your
great success against Blefuscu, by which his glory as
admiral is much obscured. This lord, in conjunction
with Flimnap the high-treasurer, whose enmity
against you is notorious on account of his lady,
Limtoc the general, Lalcon the chamberlain, and
Blamuff the grand justiciary, have prepared articles
of impeachment against you, for treason and other
capital crimes."
This preface made me so impatient, being con-
scious of my own merits and innocence, that I was
going to interrupt him, when he entreated me to be
silent, and thus proceeded :-
my head for your service.
I defy the treasurer, or his two informers, (I will
name them, and let them make the best of it,) Clus-
tril and Drunlo, to prove that any person ever came
to me incognito, except the secretary Reldresal, who
was sent by express command of his imperial majesty, "Out of gratitude for the favours you have done
as I have before related. I should not have dwelt me, I procured information of the whole proceed-
so long upon this particular, if it had not been a pointings, and a copy of the articles, wherein I venture
wherein the reputation of a great lady is so nearly
concerned, to say nothing of my own; though I then
had the honour to be a nardac, which the treasurer
himself is not; for all the world knows that he is
only a glumglum, a title inferior by one degree, as
that of a marquis is to a duke in England; yet I
allow he preceded me in right of his post. These
false informations, which I afterwards came to the
knowledge of by an accident not proper to mention,
made the treasurer show his lady for some time an
ill countenance, and me a worse; and although he
was at last undeceived and reconciled to her, yet I
lost all credit with him, and found my interest de-
cline very fast with the emperor himself, who was
indeed too much governed by that favourite.
CHAPTER VII.
The author, being informed of a design to accuse him of high
treason, makes his escape to Blefuscu. His reception there.
BEFORE I proceed to give an account of my leaving
this kingdom, it may be proper to inform the reader
of a private intrigue which had been for two months
forming against me.
I had been hitherto, all my life, a stranger to
courts, for which I was unqualified by the meanness
of my condition. I had indeed heard and read
enough of the dispositions of great princes and mi-
nisters, but never expected to have found such
terrible effects of them, in so remote a country,
governed, as I thought, by very different maxims
from those in Europe.
When I was just preparing to pay my attendance
on the emperor of Blefuscu, a considerable person at
court (to whom I had been very serviceable, at a
time when he lay under the highest displeasure of
his imperial majesty) came to my house very pri-
vately at night, in a close chair, and without sending
his name desired admittance. The chairmen were
dismissed; I put the chair, with his lordship in it,
into my coat-pocket: and, giving orders to a trusty
servant to say I was indisposed and gone to sleep,
I fastened the door of my house, placed the chair on
the table, according to my usual custom, and sat
down by it. After the common salutations were
over, observing his lordship's countenance full of
concern, and inquiring into the reason, he desired
"I would hear him with patience, in a matter that
highly concerned my honour and life." His speech
was to the following effect, for I took notes of it as
soon as he left me :-
"Articles of impeachment against QUINBUS FLESTRIN,
the Man-Mountain.
"ARTICLE I.-Whereas, by a statute made in the
reign of his imperial majesty Calin Deffar Plune, it
is enacted, That whoever shall make water within
the precincts of the royal palace shall be liable to
the pains and penalties of high treason; notwith-
standing, the said Quinbus Flestrin, in open breach
of the said law, under colour of extinguishing the
fire kindled in the apartment of his majesty's most
dear imperial consort, did maliciously, traitorously,
and devilishly, by discharge of his urine, put out
the said fire kindled in the said apartment, lying
and being within the precincts of the said royal
palace, against the statute in that case provided,
&c., against the duty, &c.
"ARTICLE II.-That the said Quinbus Flestrin,
having brought the imperial fleet of Blefuscu into
the royal port, and being afterwards commanded by
his imperial majesty to seize all the other ships of
the said empire of Blefuscu, and reduce that empire
to a province, to be governed by a viceroy from
hence, and to destroy and put to death, not only all
the Big-endian exiles, but likewise all the people of
that empire who would not immediately forsake the
Big-endian heresy; he, the said Flestrin, like a
false traitor against his most auspicious, serene, im-
perial majesty, did petition to be excused from the
said service, upon pretence of unwillingness to force
the consciences, or destroy the liberties and lives, of
an innocent people.
"ARTICLE III.-That whereas certain ambassa-
dors arrived from the court of Blefuscu to sue for
peace in his majesty's court, he, the said Flestrin,
did, like a false traitor, aid, abet, comfort, and
divert the said ambassadors, although he knew them
to be servants to a prince who was lately an open
enemy to his imperial majesty, and in an open war
against his said majesty.
"ARTICLE IV.-That the said Quinbus Flestrin,
contrary to the duty of a faithful subject, is now
preparing to make a voyage to the court and empire
of Blefuscu, for which he has received only verbal
licence from his imperial majesty; and, under colour
of the said licence, does falsely and traitorously in-
tend to take the said voyage, and thereby to aid,
comfort, and abet the emperor of Blefuscu, so lately
an enemy and in open war with his imperial ma-
jesty aforesaid.
There are some other articles; but these are
the most important, of which I have read you an
abstract.
"You are to know," said he, "that several com-
mittees of council have been lately called, in the
most private manner, on your account; and it is but
two days since his majesty came to a full resolution.
"In the several debates upon this impeachment,
"You are very sensible that Skyresh Bolgolam it must be confessed that his majesty gave many
VOL. I.
C
18
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
marks of his great lenity; often urging the services
you had done him, and endeavouring to extenuate
your crimes. The treasurer and admiral insisted
that you should be put to the most painful and igno-
minious death, by setting fire to your house at night;
and the general was to attend with twenty thousand
men, armed with poisoned arrows, to shoot you on
the face and hands. Some of your servants were to
have private orders to strew a poisonous juice on
your shirts and sheets, which would soon make you
tear your own flesh, and die in the utmost torture.
The general came into the same opinion, so that for
a long time there was a majority against you; but
his majesty, resolving if possible to spare your life,
at last brought off the chamberlain.
"Upon this incident, Reldresal, principal secretary;
for private affairs, who always approved himself your
true friend, was commanded by the emperor to
deliver his opinion, which he accordingly did; and
therein justified the good thoughts you have of him.
He allowed your crimes to be great, but that still
there was room for mercy, the most commendable
virtue in a prince, and for which his majesty was so
justly celebrated. He said, the friendship between
you and him was so well known to the world, that
perhaps the most honourable board might think him
partial; however, in obedience to the command he
had received, he would freely offer his sentiments.
That if his majesty, in consideration of your services,
and pursuant to his own merciful disposition, would
please to spare your life, and only give orders to
put out both your eyes, he humbly conceived that,
by this expedient, justice might in some measure be
satisfied, and all the world would applaud the lenity
of the emperor, as well as the fair and generous pro-
ceedings of those who have the honour to be his
counsellors. That the loss of your eyes would be
no impediment to your bodily strength, by which
you might still be useful to his majesty-that blind-
ness is an addition to courage, by concealing dan-
from us-that the fear you had for your eyes
gers
was the greatest difficulty in bringing over the ene-
my's fleet; and it would be sufficient for you to see
by the eyes of the ministers, since the greatest
princes do no more.
|
were in their own consciences fully convinced of
your guilt, which was a sufficient argument to con-
demn you to death, without the formal proofs re-
quired by the strict letter of the law.
"But his imperial majesty, fully determined
against capital punishment, was graciously pleased
to say that, since the council thought the loss of
your eyes too easy a censure, some other may be
inflicted hereafter. And
And your friend the secretary,
humbly desiring to be heard again in answer to
what the treasurer had objected concerning the
great charge his majesty was at in maintaining you,
said, that his excellency, who had the sole disposal
of the emperor's revenue, might easily provide
against that evil by gradually lessening your esta-
blishment; by which, for want of sufficient food,
you will grow weak and faint, and lose your appe-
tite, and consume in a few months; neither would
the stench of your carcase be then so dangerous,
when it should become more than half diminished
and immediately upon your death, five or six thou-
sand of his majesty's subjects might, in two or three
days, cut the flesh from your bones, take it away by
cart-loads, and bury it in distant parts to prevent in-
fection; leaving the skeleton as a monument of
admiration to posterity.
"Thus, by the great friendship of the secretary,
the whole affair was compromised. It was strictly
enjoined that the project of starving you by degrees
should be kept a secret; but the sentence of putting
out your eyes was entered on the books: none dis-
senting, except Bolgolam the admiral, who, being a
creature of the empress, was perpetually instigated
by her majesty to insist upon your death, she having
borne perpetual malice against you on account of
that infamous and illegal method you took to extin-
guish the fire in her apartment.
"In three days your friend the secretary will be
directed to come to your house, and read before you
the articles of impeachment; and then to signify the
great lenity and favour of his majesty and council,
whereby you are only condemned to the loss of your
eyes, which his majesty does not question you will
gratefully and humbly submit to; and twenty of his
majesty's surgeons will attend, in order to see the
pointed arrows into the balls of your eyes, as you lie
on the ground.
"I leave to your prudence what measures you
will take; and, to avoid suspicion, I must immedi-
ately return in as private a manner as I came."
His lordship did so; and I remained alone, under
many doubts and perplexities of mind.
"This proposal was received with the utmost dis-operation well performed, by discharging very sharp-
approbation by the whole board. Bolgolam, the
Bolgolam, the
admiral, could not preserve his temper; but, rising
up in a fury, said, he wondered how the secretary
durst presume to give his opinion for preserving the
life of a traitor; that the services you had performed
were, by all true reasons of state, the great aggra-
vation of your crimes; that you, who were able to
extinguish the fire by discharge of urine in her ma-
jesty's apartment (which he mentioned with horror),
might at another time raise an inundation by the
same means, to drown the whole palace; and the
same strength which enabled you to bring over the
onemy's fleet might serve, upon the first discontent,
to carry it back: that he had good reasons to think
you were a Big-endian in your heart, and as trea-
son begins in the heart before it appears in overt
acts, so he accused you as a traitor on that account,
and therefore insisted you should be put to death.
"The treasurer was of the same opinion: he
showed to what straits his majesty's revenue was
reduced by the charge of maintaining you, which
would soon grow insupportable: that the secretary's
expedient of putting out your eyes was so far from
being a remedy against this evil, that it would pro-
bably increase it, as is manifest from the common
practice of blinding some kinds of fowls, after which
they fed the faster and grew sooner fat: that his
sacred majesty and the council, who are your judges,
|
It was a custom introduced by this prince and his
ministry (very different, as I have been assured,
from the practice of former times), that after the
court had decreed any cruel execution, either to
gratify the monarch's resentment or the malice of a
favourite, the emperor always made a speech to his
whole council, expressing his great lenity and ten-
derness, as qualities known and confessed by all the
world. This speech was immediately published
throughout the kingdom; nor did anything terrify
the people so much as those encomiums on his ma-
jesty's mercy; because it was observed, that the
more these praises were enlarged and insisted on
the more inhuman was the punishment, and the
sufferer more innocent. Yet, as to myself, I must
confess, having never been designed for a courtier,
either by my birth or education, I was so ill a judge
of things that I could not discover the lenity and
favour of this sentence, but conceived it (perhaps
erroneously) rather to be rigorous than gentle. I
sometimes thought of standing my trial; for, al-
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
19
bed, being forced to lie on the ground, wrapped up
in my coverlet.
fuscu;
CHAPTER VIII.
and after some difficulties returns safe to his
native country.
though I could not deny the facts alleged in the
several articles, yet
yet I hoped they would admit of
some extenuation. But, having in my life perused
many state-trials, which I ever observed to terminate
as the judges thought fit to direct, I durst not rely The author, by a lucky accident, finds means to leave Ble-
on so dangerous a decision, in so critical a juncture,
Once I was
and against such powerful enemies.
strongly bent upon resistance; for, while I had
liberty, the whole strength of that empire could
hardly subdue me, and I might easily with stones
pelt the metropolis to pieces; but I soon rejected
that project with horror, by remembering the oath I
had made to the emperor, the favours I received
from him, and the high title of nardac he conferred
Neither had I so soon learned the grati-
tude of courtiers, to persuade myself that his ma-
jesty's present severities acquitted me of all past
obligations.
upon me.
At last I fixed upon a resolution for which it is
probable I may incur some censure, and not un-
justly; for I confess I owe the preserving of my
eyes, and consequently my liberty, to my own great
rashness and want of experience; because, if I had
then known the nature of princes and ministers,
which I have since observed in many other courts,
and their methods of treating criminals less obnoxi-
ous than myself, I should, with great alacrity and
readiness, have submitted to so easy a punishment.*
I
THREE days after my arrival, walking out of curio-
sity to the north-east coast of the island, I observed,
about half a league off in the sea, somewhat that
looked like a boat overturned. I pulled off my
shoes and stockings, and wading two or three hun-
dred yards, I found the object to approach nearer
by force of the tide; and then plainly saw it to be a
real boat, which I supposed might by some tempest
have been driven from a ship; whereupon I returned
immediately towards the city, and desired his im-
perial majesty to lend me twenty of the tallest ves-
sels he had left, after the loss of his fleet, and three
thousand seamen, under the command of his vice-
admiral. This fleet sailed round, while I went back
the shortest way to the coast, where I first discovered
the boat. I found the tide had driven it still nearer.
The seamen were all provided with cordage, which
I had beforehand twisted to a sufficient stength.
When the ships came up I stripped myself, and
waded till I came within a hundred yards of the
boat, after which I was forced to swim till I got up
But, hurried on by the precipitancy of youth, and to it. The seamen threw me the end of the cord,
having his imperial majesty's licence to pay my at- which I fastened to a hole in the fore-part of the
tendance upon the emperor of Blefuscu, I took this boat, and the other end to a man-of-war; but I
opportunity, before the three days were elapsed, to found all my labour to little purpose; for, being out
send a letter to my friend the secretary, signifying of my depth, I was not able to work. In this neces-
my resolution of setting out that morning for Ble-sity, I was forced to swim behind, and push the boat
fuscu, pursuant to the leave I had got; and, without
waiting for an answer, I went to that side of the
island where our fleet lay. I seized a large man-of-
war, tied a cable to the prow, and, lifting up the an-
chors, I stripped myself, put my clothes (together
with my coverlet, which I carried under my arm)
into the vessel, and, drawing it after me, between
wading and swimming, arrived at the royal port of
Blefuscu, where the people had long expected me:
they lent me two guides to direct me to the capital
city, which is of the same name. I held them in
my hands, till I came within two hundred yards
of the gate, and desired them "to signify my arrival
to one of the secretaries, and let him know I there
waited his majesty's command." I had an answer
in about an hour, "that his majesty, attended by
the royal family and great officers of the court, was
coming out to receive me.' I advanced a hundred
yards. The emperor and his train alighted from
their horses, the empress and ladies from their
coaches, and I did not perceive they were in any
fright or concern. I lay on the ground to kiss his
majesty's and the empress's hands. I told his ma-
jesty that I was come, according to my promise,
and with the licence of the emperor my master, to
have the honour of seeing so mighty a monarch, and
to offer him any service in my power, consistent
with my duty to my own prince ;" not mentioning
a word of my disgrace, because I had hitherto no
regular information of it, and might suppose myself
wholly ignorant of any such design: neither could I
reasonably conceive that the emperor would discover
the secret while I was out of his power; wherein,
however, it soon appeared I was deceived.
I shall not trouble the reader with the particular
account of my reception at this court, which was
suitable to the generosity of so great a prince; nor
of the difficulties I was in for want of a house and
*Alluding to the proceedings against Oxford, Bolingbroke,
and Atterbury.
forward, as often as I could, with one of my hands ;
and the tide favouring me, I advanced so far that I
could just hold up my chin and feel the ground.
rested two or three minutes, and then gave the boat
another shove, and so on, till the sea was no higher
than my arm-pits; and now the most laborious part
being over, I took out my other cables, which were
stowed in one of the ships, and fastened them first
to the boat, and then to nine of the vessels which
attended me; the wind being favourable, the seamen
towed and I shoved, until we arrived within forty
yards of the shore; and, waiting till the tide was out,
I got dry to the boat, and by the assistance of two
thousand men, with ropes and engines, I made a
shift to turn it on its bottom, and found it was but
little damaged.
I shall not trouble the reader with the difficulties
I was under, by the help of certain paddles, which
cost me ten days making, to get my boat to the royal
port of Belfuscu, where a mighty concourse of peo-
ple appeared upon my arrival, full of wonder at the
sight of so prodigious a vessel. I told the emperor
"that my good fortune had thrown this boat in my
way, to carry me to some place whence I might re-
turn into my native country; and begged his majesty's
orders for getting materials to fit it up, together with
his licence to depart;" which, after some kind ex-
postulations, he was pleased to grant.
I did very much wonder, in all this time, not to
have heard of any express relating to me from our
emperor to the court of Blefuscu. But I was after-
ward given privately to understand that his imperial
majesty, never imagining I had the least notice of
his designs, believed I was only gone to Belfuscu in
performance of my promise, according to the licence
he had given me, which was well known at our
court, and would return in a few days, when the
ceremony was ended. But he was at last in pain at
my long absence; and, after consulting with the
treasurer and the rest of that cabal, a person of
C 2
20
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
quality was despatched with the copy of the articles
against me. This envoy had instructions to repre-
sent to the monarch of Belfuscu "the great lenity
of his master, who was content to punish me no fur-
ther than with the loss of mine eyes; that I had
fled from justice; and if I did not return in two
hours I should be deprived of my title of nardac,
and declared a traitor." The envoy further added,
"that in order to maintain the peace and amity be-
tween both empires, his master expected that his
brother of Blefuscu would give orders to have me
sent back to Lilliput, bound hand and foot, to be
punished as a traitor."
The emperor of Blefuscu, having taken three days
to consult, returned an answer consisting of many
civilities and excuses. He said "that, as for send-
ing me bound, his brother knew it was impossible;
that, although I had deprived him of his fleet, yet he
owed great obligations to me for many good offices
I had done him in making the peace. That, how-
ever, both their majesties would soon be made casy;
for I had found a prodigious vessel on the shore, able
to carry me on the sea, which he had given orders
to fit up, with my own assistance and direction;
and he hoped, in a few weeks, both empires would
be freed from so insupportable an incumbrance.”
With this answer the envoy returned to Lilliput;
and the monarch of Blefuscu related to me all that
had passed; offering me, at the same time, (but un-
der the scrictest confidence,) his gracious protection,
if I would continue in his service; wherein although
I believed him sincere, yet I resolved never more to
put any confidence in princes or ministers, where I
could possibly avoid it; and therefore, with all due
acknowledgments for his favourable intentions, I hum-
bly begged to be excused. I told him "that, since
fortune, whether good or evil, had thrown a vessel
in my way, I was resolved to venture myself on the
ocean, rather than be an occasion of difference be-
tween two such mighty monarchs.” Neither did I
find the emperor at all displeased; and I discovered,
by a certain accident, that he was very glad of my
resolution, and so were most of his ministers.
di-
These considerations moved me to hasten my de-
parture somewhat sooner than I intended; to which
the court, impatient to have me gone, very readily
contributed. Five hundred workmen were employed
to make two sails to my boat, according to my
rections, by quilting thirteen folds of their strongest
linen together. I was at the pains of making ropes
and cables, by twisting ten, twenty, or thirty, of the
thickest and strongest of theirs. A great stone that
I happened to find, after a long search, by the sea-
shore, served me for an anchor. I had the tallow
of three hundred cows, for greasing my boat, and
other uses. I was at incredible pains in cutting
down some of the largest timber-trees for oars and
masts, wherein I was, however, much assisted by his
majesty's ship-carpenters, who helped me in smooth-
ing them after I had done the rough work.
In about a month, when all was prepared, I sent
to receive his majesty's commands, and to take my
leave. The emperor and royal family came out of
the palace; I lay down on my face to kiss his hand,
which he very graciously gave me; so did the
Ilis
empress and young princes of the blood.
majesty presented me with fifty purses of two hun-
dred sprugs a-picce, together with his picture at full
length, which I put immediately into one of my
gloves, to keep it from being hurt. The ceremonies
at my departure were too many to trouble the reader
with at this time.
|
drink proportionable, and as much meat ready
dressed as four hundred cooks could provide. I
took with me six cows and two bulls alive, with as
many ewes and rams, intending to carry them into
my own country, and propagate the breed. And to
feed them on board, I had a good bundle of hay
and a bag of corn. I would gladly have taken a
dozen of the natives, but this was a thing the emperor
would by no means permit, and, besides a diligent
search into my pockets, his majesty engaged my
honour "not to carry away any of his subjects, al-
though with their own consent and desire."
Having thus prepared all things as well as I was
able, I set sail on the twenty-fourth day of Septem-
ber, 1701, at six in the morning; and when I had
gone about four leagues to the northward, the wind
being at south-east, at six in the evening I descried
a small island, about half a league to the north-west.
I advanced forward, and cast anchor on the lee-side
of the island, which seemed to be uninhabited. I
then took some refreshment, and went to my rest.
I slept well, and, as I conjecture, at least six hours,
for I found the day broke in two hours after I awaked.
It was a clear night. I eat my breakfast before the
sun was up; and heaving anchor, the wind being
favourable, I steered the same course that I had
done the day before, wherein I was directed by my
pocket compass. My intention was to reach, if pos-
sible, one of those islands which I had reason to
believe lay to the north-cast of Van Diemen's Land.
I discovered nothing all that day; but upon the
next, about three in the afternoon, when I had, by
my computation, made twenty-four leagues from
Blefuscu, I descried a sail steering to the south-east ;
my course was due east. I hailed her, but could
get no answer; yet I found I gained upon her, for
the wind slackened. I made all the sail I could,
and in half an hour she spied me, then hung out her
ancient and discharged a gun. It is not easy to
express the joy I was in upon the unexpected hope
of once more seeing my beloved country and the
dear pledges I left in it. The ship slackened her
sails, and I came up with her between five and six
in the evening, September 26th; but my heart
leapt within me to see her English colours. I put
my cows and sheep into my coat-pockets, and got
on board with all my little cargo of provisions.
The vessel was an English merchantman, return-
ing from Japan by the North and South Seas; the
captain, Mr. John Biddel of Deptford, a very civil
man and an excellent sailor. We were now in the
latitude of 30 degrees south; there were about fifty
men in the ship; and here I met an old comrade of
mine, one Peter Williams, who gave me a good
character to the captain. This gentleman treated
me with kindness, and desired I would let him
know what place I came from last, and whither I
was bound; which I did in a few words, but he
thought I was raving, and that the dangers I had
undergone had disturbed my head; whereupon I
took my black cattle and sheep out of my pocket,
which, after great astonishment, clearly convinced
him of my veracity. I then showed him the gold
given me by the emperor of Blefuscu, together with
his majesty's picture at full length, and some other
rarities of that country. I gave him two purses of
two hundred sprugs each, and promised, when we
arrived in England, to make him a present of a cow
and a sheep big with young.
I shall not trouble the reader with a particular
account of this voyage, which was very prosperous
for the most part. We arrived in the Downs on
I stored the boat with the carcases of an hundred the 13th of April, 1702. I had only one misfor-
oxen and three hundred sheep, with bread and tune, that the rats on board carried away one of my
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
21
sheep; I found her bones in a hole, picked clean
from the flesh. The rest of my cattle I got safe
ashore, and set them a grazing in a bowling-green
at Greenwich, where the fineness of the grass made
them feed very heartily, though I had always feared
the contrary; neither could I possibly have preserved
them in so long a voyage, if the captain had not al-
lowed me some of his best biscuit, which, rubbed to
powder, and mingled with water, was their con-
stant food. The short time I continued in England
I made a considerable profit by showing my cattle
to many persons of quality and others; and before
I began my second voyage I sold them for six hun-
dred pounds. Since my last return I find the
breed is considerably increased, especially the sheep,
which I hope will prove much to the advantage of the
woollen manufacture, by the fineness of the fleeces.
I stayed but two months with my wife and family;
for my insatiable desire of seeing foreign countries
would suffer me to continue no longer. I left fif-
teen hundred pounds with my wife, and fixed her
in a good house at Redriff. My remaining stock I
carried with me, part in money and part in goods,
in hopes to improve my fortunes. My eldest uncle
John had left me an estate in land, near Epping, of
about thirty pounds a year; and I had a long lease
of the Black Bull in Fetter-lane, which yielded me
as much more; so that I was not in any danger of
leaving my family upon the parish. My son Johnny,
named so after his uncle, was at the grammar-
school, and a towardly child. My daughter Betty
(who is now well married, and has children) was
then at her needle-work. I took
I took my leave of my
wife, and boy and girl, with tears on both sides,
and went on board the Adventure, a merchant-ship
of three hundred tons, bound for Surat, captain
John Nicholas, of Liverpool, commander.
But my
account of this voyage must be referred to the
second part of my travels.
PART THE SECOND.
A VOYAGE TO BROBDING NAG.
CHAPTER 1.
A great storm described, the long-boat sent to fetch water,
the author goes with it to discover the country. He is left
on shore, is seized by one of the natives, and carried to a
farmer's house. His reception, with several accidents that
happened there. A description of the inhabitants.
HAVING been condemned by nature and fortune to
an active and restless life, in two months after my
return I again left my native country, and took
shipping in the Downs on the 20th day of June,
1702, in the Adventure, captain John Nicholas, a
Cornishman, commander, bound for Surat. We
had a very prosperous gale till we arrived at the
Cape of Good Hope, where we landed for fresh
water; but discovering a leak we unshipped our
goods, and wintered there; for the captain falling
sick of an ague, we could not leave the Cape till the
end of March. We then set sail, and had a good
voyage till we passed the Straits of Madagascar;
but having got northward of that island, and to
about five degrees south latitude, the winds, which
in those seas are observed to blow a constant equal
gale between the north and west, from the begin-
ning of December to the beginning of May, on the
19th of April began to blow with much greater vio-
lence, and more westerly than usual, continuing so
for twenty days together: during which time we
were driven a little to the east of the Molucca Is-
lands, and about three degrees northward of the line,
as our captain found by an observation he took the
2nd of May, at which time the wind ceased, and it
was a perfect calm, whereat I was not a little re-
joiced. But he, being a man well experienced in
the navigation of those seas, bid us all prepare
against a storm, which accordingly happened the day
following: for the southern wind, called the southern
monsoon, began to set in.
Finding it was likely to overblow, [what follows is
a happy parody of the sea-terms in old voyages] we
took in our sprit-sail, and stood by to hand the fore-
sail; but making foul weather, we looked the guns
were all fast, and handed the mizen. The ship lay
very broad off, so we thought it better spooning before
the sea than trying or hulling. We reefed the fore-
sail, and set him, and hauled aft the foresheet; the
helm was hard a-weather. The ship wore bravely.
We belayed the fore downhaul; but the sail was
split, and we hauled down the yard, and got the
sail into the ship, and unbound all the things clear
of it. It was a very fierce storm; the sea broke
strange and dangerous. We hauled off upon the
laniard of the whipstaff, and helped the man at the
helm. We could not get down our topmast, but
let all stand, because she scudded before the sea
very well, and we knew that the topmast being
aloft the ship was the wholesomer, and made better
way through the sea, seeing we had sea-room.
When the storm was over, we set foresail and main-
sail, and brought the ship to. Then we set the
mizen, main-topsail, and the fore-topsail. Our
course was east-north-east, the wind was at south-
west. We got the starboard tacks aboard, we cast
off our weather-braces and lifts; we set-in the lee-
braces, and hauled forward by the weather-bow-
lings, and hauled them tight, and belayed them, and
hauled over the mizen tack to windward, and kept
her full and by as near as she would lie.
During this storm, which was followed by a
strong wind west-south-west, we were carried, by
my computation, about five hundred leagues to the
east, so that the oldest sailor on board could not tell
in what part of the world we were. Our provisions
held out well, our ship was stanch, and our crew
all in good health; but we lay in the utmost distress
for water. We thought it best to hold on the same
course, rather than turn more northerly, which might
have brought us to the north-west part of Great
Tartary, and into the Frozen Sea.
On the 16th day of June, 1703, a boy on the top-
mast discovered land. On the 17th we came in
full view of a great island, or continent, (for we
knew not whether), on the south side whereof was
a small neck of land jutting out into the sea, and a
creek too shallow to hold a ship of above one hun-
dred tons. We cast anchor within a league of this
creek, and our captain sent a dozen of his men well
armed in the long-boat, with vessels for water, if
any could be found. desired his leave to go with
them, that I might see the country, and make what
discoveries I could. When we came to land we
saw no river or spring, nor any sign of inhabitants.
Our men therefore wandered on the shore to find
out some fresh water near the sea, and I walked
alone about a mile on the other side, where I ob-
served the country all barren and rocky. I now be-
gan to be weary, and, secing nothing to entertain
22
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
my curiosity, I returned gently down towards the
creek; and the sea being full in my view, I saw our
men already got into the boat, and rowing for life to
the ship. I was going to holla after them, although
although
it had been to little purpose, when I observed a
huge creature walking after them in the sea, as fast
as he could: he waded not much deeper than his
knees, and took prodigious strides: but our men
had the start of him half a league, and, the sea
thereabouts being full of sharp pointed rocks, the
monster was not able to overtake the boat. This I
was afterwards told, for I durst not stay to see the
issue of the adventure; but ran as fast as I could
the way I first went, and then climbed up a steep
hill, which gave me some prospect of the country.
I found it fully cultivated; but that which first sur-
prised me was the length of the grass, which, in
those grounds that seemed to be kept for hay, was
about twenty feet high.
I fell into a high road, for so I took it to be,
though it served to the inhabitants only as a footpath
through a field of barley. Here I walked on for some
time, but could see little on either side, it being now
near harvest, and the corn rising at least forty feet.
I was an hour walking to the end of this field, which
was fenced in with a hedge of at least one hundred
and twenty feet high, and the trees so lofty that I
could make no computation of their altitude. There
was a stile to pass from this field into the next. It
had four steps, and a stone to cross over when you
came to the uppermost. It was impossible for me
to climb this stile, because every step was six feet
high, and the upper stone about twenty. I was
endeavouring to find some gap in the hedge, when I
discovered one of the inhabitants in the next field,
advancing towards the stile, of the same size with
him whom I saw in the sea pursuing our boat.
He
appeared as tall as an ordinary spire-steeple, and
took about ten yards at every stride, as near as I
could guess. I was struck with the utmost fear and
astonishment, and ran to hide myself in the corn,
whence I saw him at the top of the stile, looking
back into the next field on the right hand, and heard
him call in a voice many degrees louder than a
speaking-trumpet; but the noise was so high in the
air, that at first I certainly thought it was thunder.
Whereupon seven monsters, like himself, came to-
wards him with reaping-hooks in their hands, each
hook about the largeness of six scythes. These
people were not so well clad as the first, whose
servants or labourers they seemed to be; for, upon
some words he spoke, they went to reap the corn in
the field where I lay. I kept from them at as great
a distance as I could, but was forced to move with
extreme difficulty, for the stalks of the corn were
sometimes not above a foot distant, so that I could
hardly squeeze my body betwixt them. However,
I made a shift to go forward, till I came to a part of
the field where the corn had been laid by the rain
and wind. Here it was impossible for me to advance
a step, for the stalks were so interwoven that I could
not creep through, and the beards of the fallen ears
so strong and pointed that they pierced through my
clothes into my flesh. At the same time I heard
the reapers not above a hundred yards behind me.
Being quite dispirited with toil, and wholly over-
come by grief and despair, I lay down between two
ridges, and heartily wished I might there end my
days. I bemoaned my desolate widow and fatherless
children. I lamented my own folly and wilfulness,
in attempting a second voyage, against the advice of
all my friends and relations. In this terrible agita-
tion of mind, I could not forbear thinking of Lilliput,
whose inhabitants looked upon me as the greatest
prodigy that ever appeared in the world; where I
was able to draw an imperial fleet in my hand, and
perform those other actions which will be recorded
for ever in the chronicles of that empire, while pos-
terity shall hardly believe them, although attested by
millions. I reflected what a mortification it must
prove to me to appear as inconsiderable in this
nation as one single Lilliputian would be among us.
But this I conceived was to be the least of my mis-
fortunes; for, as human creatures are observed to be
more savage and cruel in proportion to their bulk,
what could I expect but to be a morsel in the mouth
of the first among these enormous barbarians that
should happen to seize me? Undoubtedly philoso-
phers are in the right when they tell us that nothing
is great or little otherwise than by comparison.
It might have pleased fortune to have let the Lilli-
putians find some nation where the people were as
diminutive with respect to them as they were to me.
And who knows but that even this prodigious race
of mortals might be equally overmatched in some
distant part of the world, whereof we have yet no
discovery?
At
Scared and confounded as I was, I could not for-
bear going on with these reflections, when one of
the reapers, approaching within ten yards of the ridge
where I lay, made me apprehend that with the next
step I should be squashed to death under his foot, or
cut in two with his reaping-hook. And therefore,
when he was again about to move, I screamed as
loud as fear could make me: whereupon the huge
creature trod short, and looking round about under
him for some time, at last espied me as I lay on the
ground. He considered a while, with the caution
of one who endeavours to lay hold on a small dan-
gerous animal in such a manner that it shall not be
able either to scratch or to bite him, as I myself have
sometimes done with a weasel in England.
length he ventured to take me behind, by the middle,
between his fore-finger and thumb, and brought me
within three yards of his eyes, that he might behold
my shape more perfectly. I guessed his meaning,
and my good fortune gave me so much presence of
mind, that I resolved not to struggle in the least as
he held me in the air above sixty feet from the ground,
although he grievously pinched my sides, for fear I
should slip through his fingers. All I ventured was
to raise mine eyes toward the sun, and place my
hands together in a supplicating posture, and to
speak some words in an humble, melancholy tone,
suitable to the condition I then was in: for I ap-
prehendeded every moment that he would dash me
against the ground, as we usually do any little hate-
ful animal, which we have a mind to destroy. But
my good star would have it that he appeared pleased
with my voice and gestures, and began to look upon
me as a curiosity, much wondering to hear me pro-
nounce articulate words, although he could not un-
derstand them. In the mean time, I was not able to
forbear groaning and shedding tears, and turning
my head towards my sides; letting him know, as
well as I could, how cruelly I was hurt by the pressure
of his thumb and finger. He seemed to apprehend
my meaning; for lifting up the lappet of his coat, he
put me gently into it, and immediately ran along
with me to his master, who was a substantial farmer,
and the same person I had first seen in the field.
The farmer, having (as I suppose by their talk)
received such an account of me as his servant could
give him, took a piece of a small straw, about the size
of a walking staff, and therewith lifted up the lappets
of my coat; which, it seems, he thought to be some
kind of covering that nature had given me.
blew my hairs aside to take a better view of my face.
He
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
23
He called his hinds about him, and asked them, as I
afterwards learned, "Whether they had ever seen
in the fields any little creature that resembled me?"
He then placed me softly on the ground upon all
four, but I got immediately up, and walked slowly
backward and forward, to let those people see I had
no intent to run away. They all sat down in a
circle about me, the better to observe my motions.
I pulled off my hat, and made a low bow towards
the farmer. I fell on my knees, and lifted up my
hands and eyes, and spoke several words as loud as
I could: I took a purse of gold out of my pocket,
and humbly presented it to him. He received it on
the palm of his hand, then applied it close to his
eye to see what it was, and afterwards turned it
several times with the point of a pin, (which he took
out of his sleeve,) but could make nothing of it.
Whereupon I made a sign that he should place his
hand on the ground. I then took the purse, and
opening it poured all the gold into his palm. There
were six Spanish pieces of four pistoles each, besides
twenty or thirty smaller coins. I saw him wet the
tip of his little finger upon his tongue, and take up
one of my largest pieces, and then another; but he
seemed to be wholly ignorant what they were.
He
made me a sign to put them again into my purse,
and the purse again into my pocket, which, after
offering it to him several times, I thought it best
to do.
The farmer, by this time, was convinced I must
be a rational creature. He spoke often to me; but
the sound of his voice pierced my ears like that of a
water-mill, yet his words were articulate enough. I
answered as loud as I could in several languages,
and he often laid his ear within two yards of me;
but all in vain, for we were wholly unintelligible to
each other. He then sent his servants to their work,
and taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he
doubled and spread it on his left hand, which he
placed flat on the ground, with the palm upward,
making me a sign to step into it, as I could easily
do, for it was not above a foot in thickness. I
thought it my part to obey; and, for fear of falling,
laid myself at full length upon the handkerchief,
with the remainder of which he lapped me up to the
head for further security, and in this manner
carried me home to his house. There he called his
wife, and showed me to her; but she screamed and
ran back, as women in England do at the sight of a
toad or a spider. However, when she had awhile
seen my behaviour, and how well I observed the
signs her husband made, she was soon reconciled,
and by degrees grew extremely tender of me.
•
It was about twelve at noon, and a servant brought
in dinner. It was only one substantial dish of meat,
(fit for the plain condition of a husbandman), in a
dish of about four-and-twenty feet diameter. The
company were, the farmer and his wife, three chil-
dren, and an old grandmother. When they were
sat down, the farmer placed me at some distance
from him on the table, which was thirty feet high
from the floor. I was in a terrible fright, and kept
as far as I could from the edge, for fear of falling. The
wife minced a bit of meat, then crumbled some
bread on a trencher, and placed it before me. I
made her a low bow, took out my knife and fork,
and fell to eat, which gave them exceeding delight.
The mistress sent her maid for a small dram cup
which held about two gallons, and filled it with drink ;
I took up the vessel with much difficulty in both
hands, and in a most respectful manner drank to her
ladyship's health, expressing the words as loud as I
could in English, which made the company laugh so
heartily, that I was almost deafened with the noise.
This liquor tasted like a small cider, and was not
unpleasant. Then the master made me a sign to
come to his trencher side; but as I walked on the
table, being in great surprise all the time, as the in-
dulgent reader will easily conceive and excuse, I
happened to stumble against a crust, and fell flat on
my face, but received no hurt. I got up immediately,
and observing the good people to be in much con-
cern, I took my hat, (which I held under ny arm
out of good manners,) and waving it over my head,
made three huzzas, to show I had got no mischief by
my fall. But advancing forward towards my master
(as I shall henceforth call him), his youngest son,
who sat next to him, an arch boy of about ten years
old, took me up by the legs, and held me so high in
the air, that I trembled every limb; but his father
snatched me from him, and at the same time gave
him such a box on the left ear as would have felled
an European troop of horse to the earth, ordering him
to be taken from the table. But being afraid the
boy might owe me a spite, and well remembering
how mischievous all children among us naturally are
to sparrows, rabbits, young kittens, and puppy-dogs,
I fell on my knees, and, pointing to the boy, made
my master to understand, as well as I could, that I
desired his son might be pardoned. The father
complied, and the lad took his seat again, whereupon
I went to him and kissed his hand, which my master
took, and made him stroke me gently with it.
In the midst of dinner, my mistress's favourite cat
leaped into her lap. I heard a noise behind me like
that of a dozen stocking-weavers at work; and turn-
ing my head I found it proceeded from the purring of
that animal, who seemed to be three times larger than
an ox, as I computed by the view of her head and one
of her paws, while her mistress was feeding and strok-
ing her. The fierceness of this creature's countenance
altogether discomposed me; though I stood at the far-
ther end of the table, about fifty feet off; and, although
my mistress held her fast, for fear she might give a
spring, and seize me in her talous. But it happened
there was no danger; for the cat took not the least
notice of me when my master placed me within three
yards of her. And, as I have been always told, and
found true by experience in my travels, that flying
or discovering fear before a fierce animal is a certain
way to make it pursue or attack you, so I resolved,
in this dangerous juncture, to show no manner of
concern. I walked with intrepidity five or six times
before the very head of the cat, and came within
half a yard of her; whereupon she drew herself
back, as if she were more afraid of me. I had less
apprehension concerning the dogs, whereof three or
four came into the room, as it is usual in farmer's
houses one of which was a mastiff, equal in bulk
to four elephants, and a greyhound, somewhat taller
than the mastiff, but not so large.
When dinner was almost done, the nurse came in
with a child of a year old in her arms, who imme-
diately spied me, and began a squall that you might
have heard from London-bridge to Chelsea, after the
usual oratory of infants, to get me for a plaything.
The mother, out of pure indulgence, took me up,
and put me towards the child, who presently seized
by the middle, and got my head into his mouth,
where I roared so loud that the urchin was frighted,
and let me drop, and I should infallibly have broke
my neck, if the mother had not held her apron under
The nurse, to quiet her babe, made use of a
rattle, which was a kind of hollow vessel filled with
great stones, and fastened by a cable to the child's
waist but all in vain, so that she was forced to
apply the last remedy by giving it suck. I must
confess no object ever disgusted me so much as the
me.
24
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
sight of her monstrous breast, which I cannot tell
what to compare with, so as to give the curious
reader an idea of its bulk, shape, and colour. It
stood prominent six feet, and could not be less than
sixteen in circumference. The nipple was about
half the bigness of my head, and the hue, both of
that and the dug, so varied with spots, pimples, and
freckles, that nothing could appear more nauseous:
for I had a near sight of her, she sitting down, the
more conveniently to give suck, and I standing on
the table. This made me reflect upon the fair skins
of our English ladies, who appear so beautiful to
us only because they are of our own size, and their
defects not to be seen but through a magnifying glass;
where we find by experiment that the smoothest
and whitest skins look rough, and coarse, and ill-
coloured.
I remember, when I was at Lilliput, the complex-
ions of those diminutive people appeared to me the
fairest in the world; and talking upon this subject
with a person of learning there, who was an intimate
friend of mine, he said that my face appeared much
fairer and smoother when he looked on me from the
ground than it did upon a nearer view when I took
him up in my hand and brought him close, which he
confessed was at first a very shocking sight. He said,
"he could discover great holes in my skin; that the
stumps of my beard were ten times stronger than the
bristles of a boar, and my complexion made up of
several colours altogether disagreeable;" although I
must beg leave to say for myself that I am as fair as
most of my sex and country, and very little sunburnt
by all my travels. On the other side, discoursing of
the ladies in that emperor's court, he used to tell me,
CC one had freckles, another too wide a mouth, a
third too large a nose;" nothing of which I was able
to distinguish. I confess, this reflection was obvious
enough; which, however, I could not forbear, lest
the reader might think those vast creatures were
actually deformed: for I must do them the justice
to say they are a comely race of people; and parti-
cularly the features of my master's countenance,
although he were but a farmer, when I beheld him
from the height of sixty feet, appeared very well
proportioned.
When dinner was done my master went out to
his labourers, and, as I could discover by his voice
and gestures, gave his wife a strict charge to take
care of me. I was very much tired, and disposed to
sleep, which my mistress perceiving, she put me on
her own bed, and covered me with a clean white
handkerchief, but larger and coarser than the main-
sail of a man-of-war.
I slept about two hours, and dreamt I was at home
with my wife and children, which aggravated my
sorrows when I awaked and found myself alone in
a vast room, between two and three hundred feet
wide, and above two hundred high, lying in a bed
twenty yards wide. My mistress was gone about her
household affairs, and had locked me in. The bed
was eight yards from the floor. Some natural neces-
sities required me to get down; I durst not presume
to call; and if I had, it would have been in vain,
with such a voice as mine, at so great a distance
as from the room where I lay to the kitchen where
the family kept. While I was under these circum-
stances, two rats crept up the curtains, and ran
smelling backwards and forwards on the bed. One
of them came up almost to my face, whereupon I
rose in a fright, and drew out my hanger to defend
myself. These horrible animals had the boldness to
attack me on both sides, and one of them held his
forefeet at my collar; but I had the good fortune to
rip up his belly, before he could do me any mischief.
|
He fell down at my feet; and the other, seeing the
fate of his comrade, made his escape, but not with-
out one good wound on the back, which I gave him
as he fled, and made the blood run trickling from
him. After this exploit, I walked gently to and fro
on the bed, to recover my breath and loss of spirits.
These creatures were of the size of a large mastiff,
but infinitely more nimble and fierce; so that, if I had
taken off my belt before I went to sleep, I must have
infallibly been torn to pieces and devoured. I mea-
sured the tail of the dead rat, and found it to be two
yards long, wanting an inch; but it went against my
stomach to drag the carcass off the bed, where it lay
still bleeding; I observed it had yet some life, but
with a strong slash across the neck, I thoroughly
despatched it.
Soon after my mistress came into the room, who,
seeing me all bloody, ran and took me up in her
hand. I pointed to the dead rat, smiling and mak-
ing other signs to show I was not hurt; whereat she
was extremely rejoiced, calling the maid to take up
the dead rat with a pair of tongs, and throw it out
of the window. Then she set me on a table,
where I showed her my hanger all bloody, and, wip-
ing it on the lappet of my coat, returned it to the
scabbard. I was pressed to do more than one thing
which another could not do for me, and therefore
endeavoured to make my mistress understand, that
I desired to be set down on the floor; which, after
she had done, my bashfulness would not suffer me
to express myself further than by pointing to the
door and bowing several times. The good woman,
with much difficulty, at last perceived what I would
be at, and, taking me up again in her hand, walked
into the garden, where she set me down. I went
on one side about two hundred yards, and beckon-
ing to her not to look or to follow me, I hid myself
between two leaves of sorrel, and there discharged
the necessities of nature.
I hope the gentle reader will excuse me for dwell-
ing on these and the like particulars, which, however
insignificant they may appear to grovelling vulgar
minds, yet will certainly help a philosopher to en-
large his thoughts and imagination, and apply them
to the benefit of public as well as private life, which
was my sole design in presenting this and other ac-
counts of my travels to the world: wherein I have
been chiefly studious of truth, without affecting any
ornaments of learning or of style. But the whole
scene of this voyage made so strong an impression
on my mind, and is so deeply fixed in my memory,
that, in committing it to paper, I did not omit one
material circumstance: however, upon a strict re-
view, I blotted out several passages of less moment,
which were in my first copy, for fear of being cen-
sured as tedious and trifling, whereof travellers are
often, perhaps not without justice, accused.
CHAPTER II.
A description of the farmer's daughter. The author carried to
a market-town, and then to the metropolis. The particulars
of his journey.
My mistress had a daughter of nine years old, a
child of towardly parts for her age, very dexterous at
her needle, and skilful in dressing her baby. Her
mother and she contrived to fit up the baby's cradle
for me against night; the cradle was put into a
small drawer of a cabinet, and the drawer placed
upon a hanging shelf for fear of the rats. This was
my bed all the time I staid with those people, though
made more convenient by degrees, as I began to
learn their language and make my wants known.
This young girl was so handy, that, after I had once
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
25
or twice pulled off my clothes before her, she was
able to dress and undress me, though I never gave
her that trouble when she would let me do either
myself. She made me seven shirts, and some other
linen, of as fine cloth as could be got, which indeed
was coarser than sackcloth; and these she con-
stantly washed for me with her own hands. She
was likewise my schoolmistress, to teach me the
language: when I pointed to anything she told me
the name of it in her own tongue, so that in a few
days I was able to call for whatever I had a mind
to. She was very good-natured, and not above
forty feet high, being little for her age. She gave
me the name of Grildrig, which the family took up,
and afterwards the whole kingdom. The word im-
ports what the Latins call nanunculus, the Italians
homunceletino, and the English mannikin. To her
I chiefly owe my preservation in that country; we
never parted while I was there; I called her my
Glumdalclitch, or little nurse; and should be guilty
of great ingratitude if I omitted this honourable
mention of her care and affection towards me, which
I heartily wish it lay in my power to requite as she
deserves, instead of being the innocent but unhappy
instrument of her disgrace, as I have too much reason
to fear.
It now began to be known and talked of in the
neighbourhood that my master had found a strange
animal in the field, about the bigness of a splacnuck,
but exactly shaped in every part like a human crea-
ture, which it likewise imitated in all its actions,
seemed to speak in a little language of its own, had
already learned several words of theirs, went erect
upon two legs, was tame and gentle, would come
when it was called, do whatever it was bid, had the
finest limbs in the world, and a complexion fairer
than a nobleman's daughter of three years old.
Another farmer, who lived hard by, and was a par-
ticular friend of my master, came on a visit on pur-
pose to inquire into the truth of this story. I was
immediately produced and placed upon a table,
where I walked as I was commanded, drew my
hanger, put it up again, made my reverence to
my master's guest, asked him, in his own language,
how he did, and told him he was welcome, just as
my
little nurse had instructed me. This man, who
was old and dim-sighted, put on his spectacles to
behold me better, at which I could not forbear
laughing very heartily, for his eyes appeared like
the full moon shining into a chamber at two win-
dows. Our people, who discovered the cause of my
mirth, bore me company in laughing, at which the
old fellow was fool enough to be angry and out of
countenance. He had the character of a great
miser; and, to my misfortune, he well deserved it,
by the cursed advice he gave my master to show
me as a sight upon a market-day in the next town,
which was half an hour's riding, about two-and-
twenty miles from our house. I guessed there was
some mischief contriving when I observed my
master and his friend whispering long together,
sometimes pointing at me; and my fears made me
fancy that I overheard and understood some of their
words. But the next morning Glumdalclitch, my
little nurse, told me the whole matter, which she
had cunningly picked out from her mother. The
poor girl laid me on her bosom, and fell a-weeping
with shame and grief. She apprehended some mis-
chief would happen to me from rude vulgar folks,
who might squeeze me to death or break one of
my limbs by taking me in their hands. She had
also observed how modest I was in my nature, how
nicely I regarded my honour, and what an indignity
I should conceive it to be exposed for money as a
public spectacle to the meanest of the people. She
said her papa and mamma had promised that Grild-
rig should be hers; but now she found they meant
to serve her as they did last year, when they pre-
tended to give her a lamb, and yet, as soon as it
was fat, sold it to a butcher. For my own part, I
may truly affirm that I was less concerned than my
nurse. I had a strong hope, which never left me,
that I should one day recover my liberty; and, as
to the ignominy of being carried about for a monster,
I considered myself to be a perfect stranger in the
country, and that such a misfortune could never be
charged upon me as a reproach if ever I should re-
turn to England, since the king of Great Britain
himself, in my condition, must have undergone the
same distress.
him.
My master, pursuant to the advice of his friend,
carried me in a box the next market-day to the
neighbouring town, and took along with him his
little daughter, my nurse, upon a pillion behind
The box was close on every side, with a little
door for me to go in and out, and a few gimlet-
holes to let in air. The girl had been so careful as
to put the quilt of her baby's bed into it for me
to lie down on. However, I was terribly shaken
and discomposed in this journey, though it were
but of half an hour; for the horse went about forty
feet at every step, and trotted so high that the
agitation was equal to the rising and falling of a
ship in a great storm, but much more frequent. Our
journey was somewhat farther than from London
to St. Alban's. My master alighted at an inn
which he used to frequent; and, after consulting a
while with the innkeeper, and making some neces-
sary preparations, he hired the grultrud, or crier, to
give notice through the town of a strange creature
to be seen at the sign of the Green Eagle, not so big
as a splacnuck (an animal in that country very finely
shaped, about six feet long), and in every part of
the body resembling a human creature, could speak
several words, and
several words, and perform a hundred diverting
tricks.
I
I was placed upon a table in the largest room of
the inn, which might be near three hundred feet
square. My little nurse stood on a low stool close
to the table, to take care of me and direct what I
should do. My master, to avoid a crowd, would
suffer only thirty people at a time to see me.
walked about on the table as the girl commanded;
she asked me questions as far as she knew my un-
derstanding of the language reached, and I answered
them as loud as I could. I turned about several
times to the company, paid my humble respects,
said they were welcome, and used some other speeches
I had been taught. I took up a thimble filled with
liquor, which Glumdalclitch had given me for a cup,
and drank their health. I drew out my hanger, and
flourished with it after the manner of fencers in
England. My nurse gave me a part of a straw,
which I exercised as a pike, having learnt the art
in my youth. I was that day shown to twelve sets
of company, and as often forced to act over again
the same fopperies, till I was half dead with weari-
ness and vexation; for those who had seen me made
such wonderful reports that the people were ready
to break down the doors to come in. My master,
for his own interest, would not suffer any one to
touch me except my nurse; and to prevent danger
benches were set round the table at such a distance
as to put me out of everybody's reach. However,
an unlucky school-boy aimed a hazel-nut directly
at my head, which very narrowly missed me, other-
wise it came with so much violence that it would
have infallibly knocked out my brains, for it was
26
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
almost as large as a small pumpion; but I had the
satisfaction to see the young rogue well beaten and
turned out of the room.
My master gave public notice that he would show
me again the next market-day; and in the mean-
time he prepared a more convenient vehicle for me,
which he had reason enough to do; for I was so
tired with my first journey, and with entertaining
company for eight hours together, that I could
hardly stand upon my legs or speak a word. It
was at least three days before I recovered my
strength; and that I might have no rest at home all
the neighbouring gentlemen, from a hundred miles
round, hearing of my fame, came to see me at my
master's own house. There could be no fewer than
thirty persons, with their wives and children (for
the country is very populous); and my master de-
manded the rate of a full room whenever he showed
me at home, although it were only to a single
family; so that, for some time, I had but little ease
every day of the week (except Wednesday, which is
their Sabbath), although I were not carried to the
town.
My master, finding how profitable I was likely to
be, resolved to carry me to the most considerable
cities of the kingdom. Having therefore provided
himself with all things necessary for a long journey,
and settled his affairs at home, he took leave of his
wife; and, upon the 17th of August, 1703, about
two months after my arrival, we set out for the
metropolis, situate near the middle of that empire,
and about three thousand miles distance from our
house. My master made his daughter Glumdalclitch
ride behind him. She carried me on her lap, in a
box tied about her waist. The girl had lined it on
all sides with the softest cloth she could get, well
quilted underneath, furnished it with her baby's
bed, provided me with linen and other necessaries,
and made everything as convenient as she could.
We had no other company but a boy of the house,
who rode after us with the luggage.
My master's design was to show me in all the
towns by the way, and to step out of the road, for
fifty or a hundred miles, to any village or person of
quality's house where he might expect custom. We
made easy journeys, of not above seven or eight
score miles a-day, for Glumdalelitch, on purpose to
spare me, complained she was tired with the trotting
of the horse. She often took me out of my box, at
my own desire, to give me air and show me the
country, but always held me fast by a leading-string.
We passed over five or six rivers, many degrees
broader and deeper than the Nile or the Ganges;
and there was hardly a rivulet so small as the Thames
at London-bridge. We were ten weeks in our jour-
ney, and I was shown in eighteen large towns, be-
sides many villages and private families.
On the 26th day of October we arrived at the
metropolis, called in their language Lorbrulgrud, or
Pride of the Universe. My master took a lodging
in the principal street of the city, not far from the
royal palace, and put out bills in the usual form,
containing an exact description of my person and
parts. He hired a large room between three and
four hundred feet wide. He provided a table sixty
feet in diameter, upon which I was to act my part,
and pallisadoed it round three feet from the edge,
and as many high, to prevent my falling over. I
was shown ten times a-day, to the wonder and satis-
faction of all people. I could now speak the lan-
guage tolerably well, and perfectly understood every
word that was spoken to me. Besides, I had learnt
their alphabet, and could make a shift to explain a
sentence here and there; for Glumdalclitch had
|
been my instructor while we were at home, and at
leisure hours during our journey. She carried a
little book in her pocket not much larger than a
Sanson's Atlas; it was a common treatise for the
use of young girls, giving a short account of their
religion: out of this she taught me my letters, and
interpreted the words.
CHAPTER III.
The author is sent for to court. The queen buys him of his
master the farmer, and presents him to the king. He dis-
putes with his majesty's great scholars. An apartment at
court provided for the author. He is in high favour with
the queen. He stands up for the honour of his own country.
His quarrels with the queen's dwarf.
THE frequent labours I underwent every day made
in a few weeks a very considerable change in my
health: the more my master got by me the more
insatiable he grew.
insatiable he grew. I had quite lost my stomach,
and was almost reduced to a skeleton. The farmer
observed it, and concluding I must soon die, resolved
to make as good a hand of me as he could. While
he was thus reasoning and resolving with himself,
a sardral, or gentleman-usher, came from court,
commanding my master to carry me immediately
thither for the diversion of the queen and her ladies.
Some of the latter had already been to see me, and
reported strange things of my beauty, behaviour,
and good sense. Her majesty, and those who at-
tended her, were beyond measure delighted with my
demeanour. I fell on my knees, and begged the
honour of kissing her imperial foot; but this graci-
ous princess held out her little finger towards me,
after I was set on a table, which I embraced in both
my arms, and put the tip of it with the utmost
respect to my lip. She made me some general
questions about my country and my travels, which I
answered as distinctly and in as few words as I
could. She asked, "Whether I would be content
to live at court? "" I bowed down to the board of
the table, and humbly answered, "That I was my
master's slave; but, if I were at my own disposal, Ĭ I
should be proud to devote my life to her majesty's
service." She then asked my master, "Whether he
was willing to sell me at a good price?" He, who
apprehended I could not live a month, was ready
enough to part with me, and demanded a thousand
pieces of gold, which were ordered him on the spot,
each piece being about the bigness of eight hundred
moidores: but allowing for the proportion of all
things between that country and Europe, and the
high price of gold among them, was hardly so great
a sum as a thousand guineas would be in England.
I then said to the queen, "Since I was now her
majesty's most humble creature and vassal, I must
beg the favour that Glumdalclitch, who had always
tended me with so much care and kindness, and un-
derstood to do it so well, might be admitted into
her service, and continue to be my nurse and in-
structor.'
""
Her majesty agreed to my petition, and easily got
the farmer's consent, who was glad enough to have
his daughter preferred at court, and the poor girl
herself was not able to hide her joy. My late mas-
ter withdrew, bidding me farewell, and saying he
had left me in a good service; to which I replied
not a word, only making him a slight bow.
The queen observed my coldness; and, when the
farmer was gone out of the apartment, asked me the
reason. I made bold to tell her majesty "That I
owed no other obligation to my late master than his
not dashing out the brains of a poor harmless crea-
ture, found by chance in his field: which obligation
was amply recompensed by the gain he had made
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
27
in showing me through half the kingdom, and the
price he had now sold me for. That the life I had
since led was laborious enough to kill an animal of
ten times my strength. That my health was much
impaired by the continual drudgery of entertaining
the rabble every hour of the day; and that, if my
master had not thought my life in danger, her ma-
jesty would not have got so cheap a bargain. But
as I was out of all fear of being ill treated, under
the protection of so great and good an empress, the
ornament of nature, the darling of the world, the
delight of her subjects, the phoenix of the creation;
so I hoped my late master's apprehensions would
appear to be groundless; for I already found my
spirits revive by the influence of her most august
presence."
This was the sum of my speech, delivered with
great improprieties and hesitation. The latter part
The latter part
was altogether framed in the style peculiar to that
people, whereof I learned some phrases from Glum-
dalclitch while she was carrying me to court.
The queen, giving great allowance for my defec-
tiveness in speaking, was, however, surprised at so
much wit and good sense in so diminutive an ani-
mal. She took me in her own hand and carried
me to the king, who was then retired to his cabinet.
His majesty, a prince of much gravity and austere
countenance, not well observing my shape at first
view, asked the queen, after a cold manner, "How
"How
long it was since she grew fond of a splacnuck?"
for such, it seems, he took me to be, as I lay upon
my breast in her majesty's right hand. But this
princess, who has an infinite deal of wit and humour,
set me gently on my feet upon the scrutoire, and
commanded me to give his majesty an account of my-
self, which I did in a very few words: and Glum-
dalclitch, who attended at the cabinet door, and
could not endure I should be out of her sight, being
admitted, confirmed all that had passed from my
arrival at her father's house.
The king, although he be as learned a person as any
in his dominions, had been educated in the study of
philosophy, and particularly in mathematics; yet
when he observed my shape exactly, and saw me
walk erect, before I began to speak, conceived I
might be a piece of clock-work (which is in that
country arrived to a very great perfection) contrived
by some ingenious artist. But when he heard
my
voice, and found what I delivered to be regular
and rational, he could not conceal his astonishment.
He was by no means satisfied with the relation I
gave him of the manner I came into his kingdom,
but thought it a story concerted between Glumdal-
clitch and her father, who had taught me a set of
words to make me sell at a better price. Upon this
imagination, he put several other questions to me,
and still received rational answers; no otherwise
defective than by a foreign accent, and an imperfect
knowledge in the language, with some rustic phrases
which I had learned at the farmer's house, and did
not suit the polite style of a court.
His majesty sent for three great scholars who were
then in their weekly waiting, according to the cus-
tom in that country. These gentlemen, after they
had awhile examined my shape with much nicety,
were of different opinions concerning me. They all
agreed that I could not be produced according to the
regular laws of nature, because I was not framed with
a capacity of preserving my life, either by swiftness, or
climbing of trees, or digging holes in the earth.
They observed by my teeth, which they viewed with
great exactness, that I was a carnivorous animal;
yet, most quadrupeds being an over-match for me,
and field-mice, with some others, too nimble, they
could not imagine how I should be able to support
myself, unless I fed upon snails and other insects,
which they offered, by many learned arguments, to
evince that I could not possibly do. One of these
virtuosi seemed to think that I might be an embryo,
or abortive birth. But this opinion was rejected by
the other two, who observed my limbs to be perfect
and finished; and that I had lived several years, as
it was manifest from my beard, the stumps whereof
they plainly discovered through a magnifying-glass ;
they would not allow me to be a dwarf, because my
littleness was beyond all degrees of comparison; for
the queen's favourite dwarf, the smallest ever known
in that kingdom, was near thirty feet high. After
much debate, they concluded unanimously that I was
only relplum scalcath, which is interpreted literally
lusus naturæ; a determination exactly agreeable to
the modern philosophy of Europe, whose professors,
disdaining the old evasion of occult causes, whereby
the followers of Aristotle endeavoured in vain to
disguise their ignorance, have invented this wonder-
ful solution of all difficulties, to the unspeakable
advancement of human knowledge.
son."*
After this decisive conclusion I entreated to be
heard a word or two. I applied myself to the king,
and assured his majesty "that I came from a coun-
try which abounded with several millions of both
sexes, and of my own stature; where the animals,
trees, and houses were all in proportion, and where,
by consequence, I might be as able to defend myself
and to find sustenance as any of his majesty's sub-
jects could do here; which I took for a full answer
to those gentlemen's arguments." To this they
only replied with a smile of contempt, saying "that
the farmer had instructed me very well in my les-
The king, who had a much better under-
standing, dismissing his learned men, sent for
the farmer, who, by good fortune, was not yet
gone out of town. Having, therefore, first ex-
amined him privately, and then confronted him
with me and the young girl, his majesty began
to think that what we told him might possibly be
true. He desired the queen to order that a parti-
cular care should be taken of me; and was of opi-
nion that Glumdalclitch should still continue in her
office of tending me, because he observed we had a
great affection for each other. A convenient apart-
ment was provided for her at court; she had a sort
of governess appointed to take care of her education,
a maid to dress her, and two other servants for
menial offices; but the care of me was wholly ap-
propriated to herself. The queen commanded her
own cabinet-maker to contrive a box, that might
serve me for a bed-chamber, after the model that
Glumdalclitch and I should agree upon.
This man
was a most ingenious artist, and, according to my
direction, in three weeks, finished for me a wooden
chamber of sixteen feet square, and twelve high, with
sash-windows, a door, and two closets, like a London
bed-chamber. The board that made the ceiling was
to be lifted up and down by two hinges, to put in a bed
ready furnished by her majesty's upholsterer, which
Glumdalclitch took out every day to air, made it
with her own hands, and, letting it down at night,
locked up the roof over me. A nice workman, who
was famous for little curiosities, undertook to make
me two chairs, with backs and frames, of a substance
not unlike ivory, and two tables, with a cabinet to
to put my things in. The room was quilted on all
sides, as well as the floor and the ceiling, to prevent
any accident from the carelessness of those who
carried me, and to break the force of a jolt, when I
*Levelled against all who reject facts for which they cannot
account.
28
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
went in a coach. I desired a lock for my door, to
prevent rats and mice from coming in. The smith,
after several attempts, made the smallest that ever
was seen among them, for I have known a larger at
the gate of a gentleman's house in England. I made
a shift to keep the key in a pocket of my own, fearing
Glumdalelitch might lose it. The queen likewise
ordered the thinnest silks that could be gotten, to
make me clothes, not much thicker than an English
blanket, very cumbersome till I was accustomed to
them. They were after the fashion of the kingdom,
partly resembling the Persian, and partly the Chinese,
and are a very grave and decent habit.
|
gage, these creatures have their titles and distinc-
tions of honour; they contrive little nests and bur-
rows, that they call houses and cities; they make a
figure in dress and equipage; they love, they fight,
they dispute, they cheat, they betray!" And thus
he continued on, while my colour came and went
several times, with indignation, to hear our noble
country, the mistress of arts and arms, the scourge
of France, the arbitress of Europe, the seat of virtue,
piety, honour, and truth, the pride and envy of the
world, so contemptuously treated.
But as I was not in a condition to resent injuries,
so, upon mature thoughts, I began to doubt whether
I was injured or no. For, after having been ac-
customed several months to the sight and converse
of this people, and observed every object upon which
I cast mine eyes to be of proportionable magnitude,
the horror I had at first conceived from their bulk
and aspect was so far worn off, that, if I had then
beheld a company of English lords and ladies in their
finery and birthday clothes, acting their several parts
in the most courtly manner of strutting, and bowing,
and prating; to say the truth, I should have been
strongly tempted to laugh as much at them as the king
and his grandees did at me. Neither, indeed, could
I forbear smiling at myself, when the queen used to
place me upon her hand towards a looking-glass, by
which both our persons appeared before me in full
view together; and there could be nothing more ri-
diculous than the comparison: so that I really began
to imagine myself dwindled many degrees below my
usual size.
The queen became so fond of my company, that she
could not dine without me. I had a table placed upon
the same at which her majesty eat, just at her left
elbow, and a chair to sit on. Glumdalclitch stood
on a stool on the floor near my table, to assist and
take care of me. I had an entire set of silver dishes
and plates, and other necessaries, which, in propor-
tion to those of the queen, were not much bigger
than what I have seen in a London toy-shop, for the
furniture of a baby-house: these my little nurse kept
in her pocket in a silver box, and gave me at meals
as I wanted them, always cleaning them herelf. No
person dined with the queen but the two princesses
royal, the elder sixteen years old, and the younger
at that time thirteen and a month. Her majesty
used to put a bit of meat upon one of my dishes, out
of which I carved for myself, and her diversion was
to see me eat in miniature; for the queen (who had
indeed but a weak stomach) took up at one mouth-
ful as much as a dozen English farmers could eat at Nothing angered and mortified me so much as the
a meal, which to me was, for some time, a very nau- queen's dwarf; who, being of the lowest stature that
seous sight. She would craunch the wing of a lark, was ever in that country (for I verily think he was
bones and all, between her teeth, although it were not full thirty feet high), became so insolent at see-
nine times as large as that of a full-grown turkey; ing a creature so much beneath him, that he would
and put a bit of bread in her mouth as big as two always affect to swagger and look big as he passed
twelvepenny loaves. She drank out of a golden by me in the queen's antechamber, while I was
cup, above a hogshead at a draught. Her knives standing on some table talking with the lords or
were twice as long as a scythe, set straight upon the ladies of the court, and he seldom failed of a smart
handle. The spoons, forks, and other instruments, word or two upon my littleness; against which I could
were all in the same proportion. I remember when only revenge myself by calling him brother, challeng-
Glumdalclitch carried me, out of curiosity, to seeing him to wrestle, and such repartees as are usually
some of the tables at court, where ten or a dozen of
those enormous knives and forks were lifted up to-
gether, I thought I had never, till then, beheld so
terrible a sight.
It is the custom that every Wednesday (which,
as I have observed, is their sabbath) the king and
queen, with the royal issue of both sexes, dine toge-
ther in the apartment of his majesty, to whom I was
now become a great favourite; and at these times,
my little chair and table were placed at his left hand,
before one of the salt-cellars. This prince took a
pleasure in conversing with me, inquiring into the
manners, religion, laws, government, and learning
of Europe; wherein I gave him the best account I
was able.
His apprehension was so clear, and his
judgment so exact, that he made very wise reflections
and observations upon all I said. But I confess
that, after I had been a little too copious in talking
of my own beloved country, of our trade, and wars by
sea and land, of our schisms in religion, and parties
in the state, the prejudices of his education prevailed
so far, that he could not forbear taking me up in his
right hand, and stroking me gently with the other,
after a hearty fit of laughing, asked me "Whether
I was a Whig or Tory?" Then turning to his first
minister, who waited behind him with a white staff,
near as tall as the mainmast of the Royal Sovereign,
he observed, "How contemptible a thing was human
grandeur, which could be mimicked by such dimi-
nutive insects as I! and yet," says he, "I dare en-
in the mouths of court pages. One day, at dinner,
this malicious little cub was so nettled with some-
thing I had said to him, that, raising himself upon
the frame of her majesty's chair, he took me up by
the middle, as I was sitting down, not thinking any
harm, and let me drop into a large silver bowl of
cream, and then ran away as fast as he could. I
fell over head and ears, and, if I had not been a
good swimmer, it might have gone very hard with
me; for Glumdalclitch in that instant happened to
be at the other end of the room, and the queen was
in such a fright that she wanted presence of mind
to assist me. But my little nurse ran to my relief,
and took me out, after I had swallowed above a
quart of cream. I was put to bed: however, I re-
ceived no other damage than the loss of a suit of
clothes, which was utterly spoiled. The dwarf was
soundly whipped, and, as a further punishment,
forced to drink up the bowl of cream into which he
had thrown me: neither was he ever restored to
favour; for soon after the queen bestowed him on a
lady of high quality, so that I saw him no more, to my
very great satisfaction; for I could not tell to what
extremity such a malicious urchin might have carried
his resentment.
He had before served me a scurvy trick, which set
the queen a-laughing, although at the same time she
was heartily vexed, and would have immediately
cashiered him, if I had not been so generous as to
intercede. Her majesty had taken a marrow-bone
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
29
upon her plate, and, after knocking out the marrow,
placed the bone again in the dish erect, as it stood
before; the dwarf, watching his opportunity while
Glumdalclitch was gone to the sideboard, mounted
the stool that she stood on to take care of me at
meals, took me up in both hands, and squeezing my
legs together, wedged them into the marrow-bone
above my waist, where I stuck for some time, and
made a very ridiculous figure. I believe it was near
a minute before any one knew what was become of
me; for I thought it below me to cry out. But as
princes seldom get their meat hot, my legs were not
scalded, only my stockings and breeches in a sad
condition. The dwarf, at my entreaty, had no other
punishment than a sound whipping.
I was frequently rallied by the queen upon account
of my fearfulness; and she used to ask me whether
the people of my country were as great cowards as
myself? The occasion was this: the kingdom is
much pestered with flies in summer; and these
odious insects, each of them as big as a Dunstable
lark, hardly gave me any rest while I sat at dinner,
with their continual humming and buzzing about
mine ears. They would sometimes alight upon my vic-
tuals, and leave their loathsome excrement or spawn
behind, which to me was very visible, though not
to the natives of that country, whose large optics
were not so acute as mine in viewing smaller ob-
jects. Sometimes they would fix upon my nose or
forehead, where they stung me to the quick, smell-
ing very offensively; and I could easily trace that
viscous matter, which, our naturalists tell us, enables
those creatures to walk with their feet upwards upon
a ceiling. I had much ado to defend myself against
these detestable animals, and could not forbear
starting when they came on my face. It was the
common practice of the dwarf to catch a number of
those insects in his hand, as schoolboys do among
us, and let them out suddenly under my nose, on
purpose to frighten me and divert the queen. My
remedy was to cut them in pieces with my knife, as
they flew in the air, wherein my dexterity was much
admired.
I remember, one morning, when Glumdalclitch
had set me in a box upon a window, as she usually
did in fair days to give me air (for I durst not ven-
ture to let the box be hung on à nail out of the win-
a
dow, as we do with cages in England), after I had
lifted up one of my sashes, and sat down at my table
to eat a piece of sweet cake for my breakfast, above
twenty wasps, allured by the smell, came flying into
the room, humming louder than the drones of as
many bagpipes. Some of them seized my cake, and
carried it piecemeal away: others flew about my
head and face, confounding me with the noise, and
putting me in the utmost terror of their stings.
However, I had the courage to rise and draw my
hanger, and attack them in the air. I despatched
four of them, but the rest got away, and I presently
shut my window. These insects were as large as
partridges; I took out their stings, found them an
inch and a half long, and as sharp as needles. I
carefully preserved them all; and having since shown
them, with some other curiosities, in several parts of
Europe, upon my return to England I gave three of
them to Gresham College, and kept the fourth for
myself.
CHAPTER IV.
The country described. A proposal for correcting modern maps.
The king's palace, and some account of the metropolis. The
author's way of travelling. The chief temple described.
I Now intend to give the reader a short description
of this country, as far as I travelled in it, which was
not above two thousand miles round Lorbrulgrud
the metropolis, for the queen, whom I always at-
tended, never went further when she accompanied
the king in his progresses, and there stayed till his
majesty returned from viewing his frontiers. The
whole extent of this prince's dominions reaches about
six thousand miles in length, and from three to five
in breadth: whence I cannot but conclude that our
geographers of Europe are in a great error, by sup-
posing nothing but sea between Japan and Califor-
nia; for it was ever my opinion that there must be
a balance of earth to counterpoise the great conti-
nent of Tartary; and, therefore, they ought to cor-
rect their maps and charts, by joining this vast tract
of land to the north-west parts of America, wherein
I shall be ready to lend them my assistance.
The kingdom is a peninsula terminated to the
north-east by a ridge of mountains thirty miles high,
which are altogether impassable, by reason of the
volcanoes upon the tops: neither do the most learned
know what sort of mortals inhabit beyond those
mountains, or whether they be inhabited at all. On
the three other sides it is bounded by the ocean.
There is not one seaport in the whole kingdom : and
those parts of the coasts into which the rivers issue
are so full of pointed rocks, and the sea generally so
rough, that there is no venturing with the smallest
of their boats; so that these people are wholly ex-
cluded from any commerce with the rest of the world.
But the large rivers are full of vessels, and abound
with excellent fish; for they seldom get any from
the sea, because the sea-fish are of the same size
with those in Europe, and consequently not worth
catching;
catching; whereby it is manifest that nature, in the
production of plants and animals of so extraordinary
a bulk, is wholly confined to this continent, of which
leave the reasons to be determined by philosophers.
However, now and then they take a whale that hap-
pens to be dashed against the rocks, which the com-
mon people feed on heartily. These whales I have
known so large, that a man could hardly carry one
upon his shoulders; and sometimes, for curiosity,
they are brought in hampers to Lorbrulgrud: I saw
one of them in a dish at the king's table, which
passed for a rarity, but I did not observe he was
fond of it; for I think, indeed, the bigness disgusted
him, although I have seen one somewhat larger in
Greenland.
The country is well inhabited, for it contains fifty-
one cities, near a hundred walled towns, and a great
number of villages. To satisfy my curious reader,
it may be sufficient to describe Lorbrulgrud. This
city stands upon almost two equal parts, on each
side the river that passes through. It contains above
eighty thousand houses, and about six hundred
thousand inhabitants. It is in length three glom-
glungs (which make about fifty-four English miles),
and two and a half in breadth; as I measured it
myself in the royal map, made by the king's order,
which was laid on the ground on purpose for me,
and extended a hundred feet: I paced the diameter
and circumference several times barefoot, and, com-
puting by the scale, measured it pretty exactly.
The king's palace is no regular edifice, but a heap
of building, about seven miles round: the chief rooms
are generally two hundred and forty feet high, and
broad and long in proportion. A coach was allowed
to Glumdalclitch and me, wherein her governess
frequently took her out to see the town, or go among
the shops; and I was always of the party, carried in
my box: although the girl, at my own desire, would
often take me out, and hold me in her hand. that
I might more conveniently view the houses and the
people as we passed along the streets. I reckoned
30
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
our coach to be about a square of Westminster-hall, I
but not altogether so high; however, I cannot be
very exact. One day the governess ordered our
coachman to stop at several shops, where the beggars,
watching their opportunity, crowded to the sides of
the coach, and gave me the most horrible spectacles
that ever a European eye beheld. There was a
woman with a cancer in her breast, swelled to a
monstrous size, full of holes, in two or three of which
I could have easily crept and covered my whole
body. There was a fellow with a wen in his neck
larger than five woolpacks; and another with a
couple of wooden legs, each about twenty feet high.
But the most hateful sight of all was the lice crawl-
ing on their clothes. I could see distinctly the limbs.
of these vermin with my naked eye much better than
those of an European louse through a microscope,
and their snouts, with which they routed like swine.
They were the first I had ever beheld, and I should
have been curious enough to dissect one of them, if
I had had proper instruments, which I unluckily left
behind me in the ship, although, indeed, the sight
was so nauseous that it perfectly turned my stomach.
Besides the large box in which I was usually car-
ried, the queen ordered a smaller one to be made for
me, of about twelve feet square and ten high, for the
convenience of travelling, because the other was
somewhat too large for Glumdalclitch's lap, and cum-
bersome in the coach; it was made by the same
artist, whom I directed in the whole contrivance.
This travelling-closet was an exact square, with a
window in the middle of three of the squares, and
each window was latticed with iron wire on the out-
side, to prevent accidents in long journeys. On the
fourth side, which had no window, two strong
staples were fixed, through which the person that
carried me, when I had a mind to be on horse-
back, put a leathern belt and buckled it about his
waist. This was always the office of some grave
trusty servant in whom I could confide, whether I
attended the king and queen in their progresses, or
were disposed to see the gardens, or pay a visit to
some great lady or minister of state in the court,
when Glumdalclitch happened to be out of order,
for I soon began to be known and esteemed among
the greatest officers; I suppose more upon account
of their majestics' favour than any merit of my
own. In journeys when I was weary of the coach
a servant on horseback would buckle on my box
and place it upon a cushion before him, and there
I had a full prospect of the country on three sides
from my three windows. I had in this closet a
field-bed and a hammock hung from the ceiling,
two chairs and a table neatly screwed to the floor
to prevent being tossed about by the agitation of
the horse or the coach; and having been long used
to sea-voyages, those motions, although sometimes
very violent, did not much discompose me.
Whenever I had a mind to see the town, it was
always in my travelling closet; which Glumdalclitch
held in her lap in a kind of open sedan, after the
fashion of the country, borne by four men and at-
tended by two others in the queen's livery. The
people, who had often heard of me, were very
curious to crowd about the sedan, and the girl was
complaisant enough to make the bearers stop and
to take me in her hand that I might be more conve-
niently seen.
I was very desirous to see the chief temple, and
particularly the tower belonging to it, which is
reckoned the highest in the kingdom. Accordingly
one day my nurse carried me thither, but I may
truly say I came back disappointed; for the height
is not above three thousand feet, reckoning from the
a
ground to the highest pinnacle top; which, allowing
for the difference between the size of those people
and us in Europe, is no great matter for admiration,
nor at all equal in proportion (if I rightly remember)
to Salisbury steeple.
to Salisbury steeple. But not to detract from á
nation to which during my life I shall acknowledge
myself extremely obliged, it must be allowed that,
whatever this famous tower wants in height, it is
amply made up in beauty and strength. For the
walls are near a hundred feet thick, built of hewn
stone, whereof each is about forty feet square and
adorned on all sides with statues of gods and empe-
rors cut in marble, larger than the life, placed in
their several niches; I measured a little finger which
had fallen down from one of these statues, and lay
unperceived among some rubbish, and found it ex-
actly four feet and an inch in length. Glumdalclitch
wrapped it up in her handkerchief, and carried it
home in her pocket, to keep among other trinkets,
of which the girl was very fond, as children at her
age usually are.
The king's kitchen is indeed a noble building,
vaulted at top, and about six hundred feet high.
The great oven is not so wide, by ten paces, as the
cupola at St. Paul's; for I measured the latter on
But if I should describe
purpose after my return.
the kitchen-grate, the prodigious pots and kettles,
the joints of meat turning on the spits, with many
other particulars, perhaps I should be hardly be-
lieved; at least a severe critic would be apt to think
I enlarged a little, as travellers are often suspected
to do. To avoid which censure, I fear I have run
too much into the other extreme; and that, if this
treatise should happen to be translated into the lan-
guage of Brobdingnag (which is the general name
of that kingdom), and transmitted thither, the king
and his people would have reason to complain that
I had done them an injury by a false and diminutive
representation.
His majesty seldom keeps above six hundred
horses in his stables: they are generally from fifty-
four to sixty feet high. But when he goes abroad
on solemn days he is attended for state by a militia
guard of five hundred horse, which indeed I thought
was the most splendid sight that could be ever be-
held, till I saw part of his army in battalia, whereof
I shall find another occasion to speak.
CHAPTER V.
Several adventures that happened to the author. The execu-
tion of a criminal. The author shows his skill in navigation.
I SHOULD have lived happy enough in that country
if my littleness had not exposed me to several ridicu-
lous and troublesome accidents; some of which I
shall venture to relate. Glumdalclitch often carried
me into the gardens of the court in my smaller box,
and would sometimes take me out of it, and hold me
in her hand, or set me down to walk. I remember,
before the dwarf left the queen, he followed us one
day into those gardens, and my nurse having set me
down, he and I being close together near some dwarf
apple-trees, I must need show my wit by a silly allu-
sion between him and the trees, which happens to
hold in their language as it does in ours.
upon the malicious rogue, watching his opportunity
when I was walking under one of them, shook it
directly over my head, by which a dozen apples,
each of them near as large as a Bristol barrel, came
tumbling about my ears; one of them hit me on the
back as I chanced to stoop, and knocked me down
flat on my face: but I received no other hurt, and
the dwarf was pardoned at my desire because I had
given the provocation.
Where-
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
31
Another day Glumdalclitch left me on a smooth
grass plot to divert myself, while she walked at some
distance with her governess. In the mean time,
there suddenly fell such a violent shower of hail,
that I was immediately by the force of it struck to
the ground; and when I was down the hailstones
gave me such cruel bangs all over the body, as if I
had been pelted with tennis-balls: however, I made
a shift to creep on all four and shelter myself by
lying flat on my face, on the lee-side of a border of
lemon-thyme, but so bruised from head to foot
that I could not go abroad in ten days. Neither is
this at all to be wondered at, because, nature in that
country observing the same proportion through all
her operations, a hailstone is near eighteen hundred
times as large as one in Europe; which I can assert
upon experience, having been so curious to weigh
and measure them.
But a more dangerous accident happened to me in
the same garden, when my little nurse, believing she
had put me in a secure place (which I often en-
treated her to do, that I might enjoy my own
thoughts), and having left my box at home to avoid
the trouble of carrying it, went to another part of
the garden with her governess and some ladies of
her acquaintance. While she was absent and out
of hearing, a small white spaniel belonging to one of
the chief gardeners, having got by accident into the
garden, happened to range near the place where I
lay the dog followed the scent, came directly up,
and taking me in his mouth ran straight to his mas-
ter wagging his tail, and set me gently on the
ground. By good fortune he had been so well
taught, that I was carried between his teeth without
the least hurt, or even tearing my clothes. But the
poor gardener, who knew me well, and had a great
kindness for me, was in a terrible fright: he gently
took me up in both his hands and asked me how I
did? but I was so amazed and out of breath that I
could not speak a word. In a few minutes I came
to myself, and he carried me safe to my little nurse,
who by this time had returned to the place where
she left me, and was in cruel agonies when I did not
appear, nor answer when she called. She severely
reprimanded the gardener on account of his dog.
But the thing was hushed up and never known at
court, for the girl was afraid of the queen's anger;
and truly, as to myself, I thought it would not
be for my reputation that such a story should go
about.
This accident absolutely determined Glumdal-
clitch never to trust me abroad for the future out of
her sight. I had been long afraid of this resolution,
and therefore concealed from her some little unlucky
adventures that happened in those times when Ï
was left by myself. Once a kite hovering over the
garden made a stoop at me, and if I had not resolutely
drawn my hanger and run under a thick espalier, he
would have certainly carried me away in his talons.
Another time, walking to the top of a fresh mole-
hill, I fell to my neck in the hole through which
that animal had cast up the earth, and coined some
lie not worth remembering to excuse myself for
spoiling my clothes. I likewise broke my right
shin against the shell of a snail which I happened
to stumble over, as I was walking alone and think-
ing on poor England.
I cannot tell whether I were more pleased or
mortified to observe in those solitary walks that the
smaller birds did not appear to be at all afraid of
me, but would hop about within a yard's distance,
looking for worms and other food with as much in-
difference and security as if no creature at all were
near them. I remember a thrush had the confi-
dence to snatch out of my hand with his bill a
piece of cake that Glumdalclitch had just given me
for my breakfast. When I attempted to catch any
of these birds they would boldly turn against me,
endeavouring to peck my fingers, which I durst not
venture within their reach; and then they would
hop back unconcerned to hunt for worms or snails,
as they did before. But one day I took a thick
cudgel, and threw it with all my strength so luckily
at a linnet, that I knocked him down, and seizing
him by the neck with both my hands, ran with him
in triumph to my nurse. However, the bird, who
had only been stunned, recovering himself, gave me
so many boxes with his wings on both sides of my
head and body, though I held him at arm's length,
and was out of the reach of his claws, that I was
But I was
twenty times thinking to let him go.
soon relieved by one of our servants, who wrung off
the bird's neck, and I had him next day for dinner
This linnet, as near as I
by the queen's command.
can remember, seemed to be somewhat larger than
an English swan.
The maids of honour often invited Glumdalclitch
to their apartments, and desired she would bring me
along with her, on purpose to have the pleasure of
seeing and touching me. They would often strip
me naked from top to toe, and lay me at full length
in their bosoms, wherewith I was much disgusted,
because, to say the truth, a very offensive smell
came from their skins, which I do not mention or
intend to the disadvantage of those excellent ladies,
for whom I have all manner of respect; but I con-
ceive that my sense was more acute in proportion
to my littleness, and that those illustrious persons
were no more disagreeable to their lovers, or to each
other, than people of the same quality are with us in
England. And after all, I found their natural smell
was much more supportable than when they used
perfumes, under which I immediately swooned
away. I cannot forget that an intimate friend of
mine in Lilliput took the freedom in a warm day,
when I had used a good deal of exercise, to com-
plain of a strong smell about me, although I am as
little faulty that way as most of my sex ; but I sup-
pose his faculty of smelling was as nice with regard
to me as mine was to that of this people. Upon
this point I cannot forbear doing justice to the
queen my mistress, and Glumdalclitch my nurse,
whose persons were as sweet as those of any lady in
England.
That which gave me most uneasiness among these
maids of honour (when my nurse carried me to visit
them) was, to see them use me without any manner
of ceremony, like a creature who had no sort of
consequence, for they would strip themselves to the
skin and put on their smocks in my presence, while
I was placed on their toilet directly before their
naked bodies, which I am sure to me was very far
from being a tempting sight, or from giving me any
other emotions than those of horror and disgust;
their skins appeared so coarse and uneven, so va-
riously coloured when I saw them near, with a
mole here and there as broad as a trencher, and
hairs hanging from it thicker than packthreads, to
say nothing further concerning the rest of their per-
sons. Neither did they at all scruple, while I was
by, to discharge what they had drank, to the quan-
tity of at least two hogsheads, in a vessel that held
above three tuns. The handsomest among these
maids of honour, a pleasant frolicsome girl of six-
teen, would sometimes set me astride upon one of
her nipples, with many other tricks wherein the
reader will excuse me for not being over particular.
But I was so much displeased, that I entreated
32
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
Glumdalelitch to contrive some excuse for not seeing | gentlewoman's stomacher; the head of the pin
that young lady any more.
One day a young gentleman, who was nephew to
my nurse's governess, came and pressed them both
to see an execution. It was of a man who had
murdered one of that gentleman's intimate acquaint-
ance. Glumdalelitch was prevailed on to be of the
company, very much against her inclination, for she
was naturally tender-hearted: and as for myself,
although I abhorred such kind of spectacles, yet my
curiosity tempted me to see something that I thought
must be extraordinary. The malefactor was fixed
on a chair upon a scaffold erected for that purpose,
and his head cut off at one blow, with a sword of
about forty feet long. The veins and arteries
spouted up such a prodigious quantity of blood, and
so high in the air, that the great jet-d'eau at Ver-
sailles was not equal for the time it lasted; and the
head, when it fell on the scaffold floor, gave such a
bounce as made me start, although I were at least
half an English mile distant.
The queen, who often used to hear me talk of my
sea-voyages, and took all occasions to divert me
when I was melancholy, asked me whether I un-
derstood how to handle a sail or an oar, and whe-
ther a little exercise of rowing might not be conve-
nient for my health? I answered that I understood
both very well; for although my proper employment
had been to be surgeon or doctor to the ship, yet
often, upon a pinch, I was forced to work like a
common mariner. But I could not see how this
could be done in their country, where the smallest
wherry was equal to a first-rate man-of-war among
us; and such a boat as I could manage would never
live in any of their rivers. Her majesty said, "If
I would contrive a boat her own joiner should make
it, and she would provide a place for me to sail in.”
The fellow was an ingenious workman, and by my
instructions, in ten days, finished a pleasure-boat,
with all its tackling, able conveniently to hold eight
Europeans. When it was finished, the queen was
so delighted that she ran with it in her lap to the
king, who ordered it to be put into a cistern full of
water, with me in it, by way of trial, where I could
not manage my two sculls, or little oars, for want
of room. But the queen had before contrived an-
other project. She ordered the joiner to make a
wooden trough of three hundred feet long, fifty
broad, and eight deep, which, being well pitched to
prevent leaking, was placed on the floor, along the
wall, in an outer room of the palace. It had a cock
near the bottom to let out the water when it began
to grow stale; and two servants could easily fill it
in half an hour. Here I often used to row for my
own diversion, as well as that of the queen and her
ladies, who thought themselves well entertained
with my skill and agility. Sometimes I would put
up my sail, and then my business was only to steer,
while the ladies gave me a gale with their fans;
and, when they were weary, some of their pages
would blow my sail forward with their breath, while
I showed my art by steering starboard or larboard
as I pleased. When I had done, Glumdalclitch
always carried back my boat into her closet, and
hung it on a nail to dry.
In this exercise I once met an accident which
had like to have cost me my life; for, one of the
pages having put my boat into the trough, the go-
verness who attended Glumdalelitch very officiously
lifted me up to place me in the boat; but I hap-
pened to slip through her fingers, and should infal-
libly have fallen down forty feet upon the floor, if,
by the luckiest chance in the world, I had not been
stopped by a corking-pin that stuck in the good
|
passed between my shirt and the waistband of my
breeches, and thus I was held by the middle in the
air till Glumdalelitch ran to my relief.
Another time one of the servants, whose office it
was to fill my trough every third day with fresh
water, was so careless as to let a huge frog (not
perceiving it) slip out of his pail. The frog lay
concealed till I was put into my boat, but then,
seeing a resting-place, climbed up, and made it lean
so much on one side that I was forced to balance it
with all my weight on the other, to prevent over-
turning. When the frog was got in it hopped at
once half the length of the boat, and then over my
head, backward and forward, daubing my face and
clothes with its odious slime. The largeness of its
features made it appear the most deformed animal
that can be conceived. However, I desired Glum-
dalelitch to let me deal with it alone. I banged it
a good while with one of my sculls, and at last
forced it to leap out of the boat.
But the greatest danger I ever underwent in
that kingdom was from a monkey, who belonged to
one of the clerks of the kitchen. Glumdalclitch
had locked me up in her closet while she went
somewhere upon business or a visit. The weather
being very warm, the closet-window was left open,
as well as the windows and the door of my bigger
box, in which I usually lived, because of its large-
ness and conveniency. As I sat quietly meditating
at my table I heard something bounce in at the
closet-window, and skip about from one side to the
other whereat, although I was much alarmed, yet
I ventured to look out, but not stirring from my
seat; and then I saw this frolicsome animal frisking
and leaping up and down, till at last he came to my
box, which he seemed to view with great pleasure
and curiosity, peeping in at the door and every
window.
window. I retreated to the farther corner of my
room or box; but the monkey, looking in at every
side, put me into such a fright that I wanted pre-
sence of mind to conceal myself under the bed, as I
might easily have done.
After some time spent in
peeping, grinning, and chattering, he at last espied
me; and reaching one of his paws in at the door as
a cat does when she plays with a mouse, although I
often shifted place to avoid him, he at length seized
the lappet of my coat (which being made of that
country silk was very thick and strong), and dragged
me out. He took me up in his right fore-foot, and
held me as a nurse does a child she is going to
suckle, just as I have seen the same sort of creature
do with a kitten in Europe; and when I offered to
struggle he squeezed me so hard that I thought it
more prudent to submit. I have good reason to
believe that he took me for a young one of his own
species, by his often stroking my face very gently
with his other paw. In these diversions he was
interrupted by a noise at the closet-door, as if some-
body were opening it; whereupon he suddenly
leaped up to the window at which he had come in,
and thence upon the leads and gutters, walking
upon three legs, and holding me in the fourth till
he clambered up to a roof that was next to ours. I
heard Glumdalclitch give a shriek at the moment he
was carrying me out. The poor girl was almost
distracted; that quarter of the palace was all in an
uproar; the servants ran for ladders; the monkey
was seen by hundreds in the court, sitting upon the
ridge of a building, holding me like a baby in one
of his fore-paws, and feeding me with the other, by
cramming into my mouth some victuals he had
squeezed out of the bag on one side of his chaps,
and patting me when I would not eat; whereat
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
32
many of the rabble below could not forbear laugh-
ing; neither do I think they justly ought to be
blamed, for without question the sight was ridicu-
lous enough to everybody but myself. Some of the
people threw up stones, hoping to drive the monkey
down; but this was strictly forbidden, or else, very
probably, my brains had been dashed out.
The ladders were now applied, and mounted by
several men; which the monkey observing, and
finding himself almost encompassed, not being able
to make speed enough with his three legs, let me
drop on a ridge tile, and made his escape. Here I
sat for some time, five hundred yards from the
ground, expecting every moment to be blown down
by the wind, or to fall by my own giddiness, and
come tumbling over and over from the ridge to the
eaves; but an honest lad, one of my nurse's foot-
men, climbed up, and, putting me into his breeches-
pocket, brought me down safe.
I was almost choked with the filthy stuff the
monkey had crammed down my throat; but my
dear little nurse picked it out of my mouth with a
small needle, and then I fell a-vomiting, which gave
me great relief. Yet I was so weak and bruised in
the sides with the squeezes given me by this odious
animal, that I was forced to keep my bed a fortnight.
The king, queen, and all the court, sent every day
to enquire after my health; and her majesty made
me several visits during my sickness. The monkey
was killed, and an order made that no such animal
should be kept about the palace.
When I attended the king after my recovery, to
return him thanks for his favours, he was pleased to
rally me a good deal upon this adventure. He
asked me,
"what my thoughts and speculations
were while I lay in the monkey's paw; how I liked
the victuals he gave me; his manner of feeding;
and whether the fresh air on the roof had sharpened
my
stomach?" He desired to know "what I would
have done upon such an occasion in my own coun-
try?" I told his majesty, "that in Europe we had
no monkeys except such as were brought for curio-
sities from other places, and so small that I could
deal with a dozen of them together if they presumed
to attack me. And as for that monstrous animal
with whom I was so lately engaged (it was indeed
as large as an elephant), if my fears had suffered
me to think so far as to make use of my hanger
(looking fiercely, and clapping my hand upon the
hilt as I spoke), when he poked his paw into my
chamber, perhaps I should have given him such a
wound as would have made him glad to withdraw it
with more haste than he put it in." This I delivered
in a firm tone, like a person who was jealous lest his
courage should be called in question. However,
my speech produced nothing else beside a loud
laughter, which all the respect due to his majesty
from those about him could not make them contain.
This made me reflect how vain an attempt it is for
a man to endeavour to do himself honour among
those who are out of all degree of equality or com-
parison with him. And yet I have seen the moral
of my own behaviour very frequent in England
since my return; where a little contemptible varlet,
without the least title to birth, person, wit, or com-
mon sense, shall presume to look with importance,
and put himself upon a foot with the greatest per-
sons of the kingdom.
I was every day furnishing the court with some
ridiculous story; and Glumdalclitch, although she
loved me to excess, yet was arch enough to inform
the queen whenever I committed any folly that she
thought would be diverting to her majesty. The
girl, who had been out of order, was carried by her
VOL. I.
|
governess to take the air about an hour's distance,
or thirty miles from town. They alighted out of
the coach near a small footpath in a field, and
Glumdalclitch, setting down my travelling box, I
went out of it to walk. There was a cowdung in
the path, and I must need try my activity by at-
tempting to leap over it. I took a run, but unfor-
tunately jumped short, and found myself just in the
middle, up to my knces. I waded through with
some difficulty, and one of the footmen wiped me
as clean as he could with his handkerchief, for I
was filthily bemired; and my nurse confined me to
my box till we returned home, where the queen
was soon informed of what had passed, and the
footmen spread it about the court, so that all the
mirth for some days was at my expense.
CHAPTER VI.
Several contrivances of the author to please the king and
queen. He shows his skill in music. The king inquires
into the state of England, which the author relates to him.
The king's observations thereon.
I USED to attend the king's levee once or twice.
a-week, and had often seen him under the barber's
hand, which, indeed, was at first very terrible to
behold; for the razor was almost twice as long as
an ordinary scythe. His majesty, according to the
custom of the country, was only shaved twice
a-week. I once prevailed on the barber to give me
some of the suds or lather, out of which I picked
forty or fifty of the strongest stumps of hair. I then
took a piece of fine wood, and cut it like the back
of a comb, making several holes in it, at equal dis-
tances, with as small a needle as I could get from
Glumdalelitch. I fixed in the stumps so artificially,
scraping and sloping them with my knife toward
the points, that I made a very tolerable comb, which
was a seasonable supply, my own being so much
broken in the teeth that it was almost useless; nei-
ther did I know any artist in that country so nice
and exact as would undertake to make me another.
I de-
And this puts me in mind of an amusement
wherein I spent many of my leisure hours.
sired the queen's woman to save for me the comb-
ings of her majesty's hair, whereof in time I got a
good quantity; and consulting with my friend the
cabinet-maker, who had received general orders to
do little jobs for me, I directed him to make two
chair-frames, no larger than those I had in my box,
and to bore little holes with a fine awl round those
parts where I designed the backs and seats; through
these holes I wove the strongest hairs I could pick
out, just after the manner of cane chairs in Eng-
land. When they were finished I made a present
of them to her majesty, who kept them in her ca-
binet, and used to show them for curiosities, as in-
deed they were the wonder of every one that beheld
them. The queen would have me sit upon one of
these chairs, but I absolutely refused to obey her,
protesting I would rather die a thousand deaths
than place a dishonourable part of my body on
those precious hairs that once adorned her majesty's
head. Of these hairs (as I had always a mechanical
genius) I likewise made a neat little purse, about
five feet long, with her majesty's name deciphered
in gold letters, which I gave to Glumdalelitch by
the queen's consent. To say the truth, it was more
for show than use, being not of strength to bear the
weight of the larger coins, and therefore she kept no-
thing in it but some little toys that girls are fond of.
The king, who delighted in music, had frequent
concerts at court, to which I was sometimes carried,
and set in my box on a table to hear them: but the
noise was so great that I could hardly distinguish
D
34
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
the tunes. I am confident that all the drums and
trumpets of a royal army, beating and sounding to-
gether just at your ears, could not equal it. My prac-
tice was to have my box removed from the place where
the performers sat, as far as I could, then to shut the
doors and windows of it, and draw the window-cur-
tains; after which I found their music not disagrecable.
I had learned in my youth to play a little upon
the spinet. Glumdalclitch kept one in her cham-
ber, and a master attended twice a-week to teach
her: I called it a spinet, because it somewhat re-
sembled that instrument, and was played upon in
the same manner. A fancy came into my head that
I would entertain the king and queen with an Eng-
lish tune upon this instrument. But this appeared
extremely difficult: for the spinet was nearly sixty
feet long, each key being almost a foot wide, so that
with my arms extended I could not reach to above
five keys, and to press them down required a good
smart stroke with iny fist, which would be too great
a labour and to no purpose. The method I con-
trived was this: I prepared two round sticks about
the bigness of common cudgels; they were thicker at
one end than the other, and I covered the thicker
ends with pieces of a mouse's skin, that by rapping
on them I might neither damage the tops of the keys
nor interrupt the sound. Before the spinet a bench
was placed, about four feet below the keys, and I |
was put upon the bench. I ran sideling upon it,
I ran sideling upon it,
that way and this, as fast as I could, banging the
proper keys with my two sticks, and made a shift to
play a jig to the great satisfaction of both their ma-
jesties; but it was the most violent exercise I ever
underwent and yet I could not strike above sixteen
keys, nor consequently play the bass and treble toge-
ther as other artists do; which was a great disadvan-
tage to my performance.
The king, who as I before observed, was a prince of
excellent understanding, would frequently order that
I should be brought in my box, and set upon the table
in his closet: he would then command me to bring
one of my chairs out of the box, and sit down
within three yards distance upon the top of the
cabinet, which brought me almost to a level with
his face. In this manner I had several conversa-
tions with him. I one day took the freedom to tell
his majesty "that the contempt he discovered to-
wards Europe, and the rest of the world, did not
seem answerable to those excellent qualities of mind
that he was master of: that reason did not extend
itself with the bulk of the body; on the contrary,
we observed in our country that the tallest persons
were usually the least provided with it; that among
other animals, becs and ants had the reputation of
more industry, art, and sagacity, than many of the
larger kinds; and that, as inconsiderable as he took
me to be, I hoped I might live to do his majesty
some signal service." The king heard me with atten-
tion, and began to conceive a much better opinion
of me than he had ever before. He desired "I
would give him as exact an account of the government
of England as I possibly could; because, as fond as
princes commonly are of their own customs, (for
so he conjectured of other monarchs by my former
discourses,) he should be glad to hear of anything
that might deserve imitation."
Imagine with thyself, courteous reader, how often
I then wished for the tongue of Demosthenes or
Cicero, that might have enabled me to celebrate the
praise of my own dear native country, in a style
equal to its merits and felicity.
I began my discourse by informing his majesty
that our dominions consisted of two islands, which
composed three mighty kingdoms, under one sove-
|
|
reign, besides our plantations in America. I dwelt
long upon the fertility of our soil, and the tempera-
ture of our climate. I then spoke at large upon the
constitution of an English parliament; partly made
up of an illustrious body, called the House of Peers
-persons of the noblest blood, and of the most
ancient and ample patrimonies. I described that
extraordinary care always taken of their education
in arts and arms, to qualify them for being coun-
sellors both to the king and kingdom; to have a
share in the legislature; to be members of the highest
court of judicature, whence there can be no ap-
peal; and to be champions always ready for the de-
fence of their prince and country, by their valour,
conduct, and fidelity. That these were the orna-
ment and bulwark of the kingdom, worthy followers
of their most renowned ancestors, whose honour
had been the reward of their virtue, from which
their posterity were never once known to dege-
nerate. To these were joined several holy persons,
as part of that assembly, under the title of bishops;
whose peculiar business it is to take care of reli-
gion, and of those who instruct the people therein.
These were searched and sought out through the
whole nation, by the prince and his wisest coun-
sellors, among such of the priesthood as were most
deservedly distinguished by the sanctity of their
lives, and the depth of their erudition; who were in-
deed the spiritual fathers of the clergy and the people.
That the other part of the parliament consisted of
an assembly, called the House of Commons, who
were all principal gentlemen, freely picked and
culled out by the people themselves, for their great
abilities and love of their country, to represent the
wisdom of the whole nation. And that these two
bodies made up the most august assembly in Eu-
rope; to whom, in conjunction with the prince, the
whole legislature is committed.
I then descended to the courts of justice; over
which the judges, those venerable sages and inter-
preters of the law, presided, for determining the dis-
puted rights and properties of men, as well as for
the punishment of vice and protection of innocence.
I mentioned the prudent management of our trea-
sury; the valour and achievements of our forces by
sea and land. I computed the number of our
people, by reckoning how many millions there might
be of each religious sect or political party among
us. I did not omit even our sports and pastimes,
or any other particular which I thought might
redound to the honour of my country. And I
finished all with a brief historical account of affairs
and events in England for about a hundred years
past.
This conversation was not ended under five
audiences, each of several hours; and the king
heard the whole with great attention, frequently
taking notes of what I spoke, as well as memoran-
dums of what questions he intended to ask me.
When I had put an end to these long discourses
his majesty, in a sixth audience, consulting his
notes, proposed many doubts, queries, and objec-
tions upon every article. He asked, "What methods
were used to cultivate the minds and bodies of our
young nobility, and in what kind of business they
commonly spent the first and teachable part of their
lives? What course was taken to supply that as-
sembly, when any noble family became extinct?
What qualifications were necessary in those who
are to be created new lords: whether the humour of
the prince, a sum of money to a court lady, or a
prime minister, or a design of strengthening a party
opposite to the public interest, ever happened to be
What share of
motives in those advancements ?
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
35
knowledge these lords had in the laws of their
country, and how they came by it, so as to enable
them to decide the properties of their fellow-sub-
jects in the last resort? Whether they were al-
ways so free from avarice, partialities, or want, that
a bribe, or some other sinister view, could have no
place among them? Whether those holy lords I
spoke of were always promoted to that rank upon
account of their knowledge in religious matters and
the sanctity of their lives; had never been com-
pliers with the times, while they were common
priests; or slavish prostitute chaplains to some noble-
men, whose opinions they continued servilely to
follow, after they were admitted into that assembly ?”
He then desired to know, "What arts were prac-
tised in electing those whom I called commoners:
whether a stranger, with a strong purse, might not
influence the vulgar voters to choose him before
their own landlord, or the most considerable gentle-
man in the neighbourhood? How it came to pass,
that people were so violently bent upon getting into
this assembly, which I allowed to be a great trouble
and expense, often to the ruin of their families,
without any salary or pension; because this ap-
peared such an exalted strain of virtue and public
spirit, that his majesty seemed to doubt it might
possibly not be always sincere ?"
And he desired
He
to know," Whether such zealous gentlemen could
have any views of refunding themselves for the charges
and trouble they were at, by sacrificing the public
good to the designs of a weak and vicious prince
in conjunction with a corrupted ministry?"
multiplied his questions, and sifted me thoroughly
upon every part of this head, proposing numberless
inquiries and objections, which I think it not pru-
dent or convenient to repeat.
Upon what I said in relation to our courts of jus-
tice, his majesty desired to be satisfied in several
points and this I was the better able to do, having
been formerly almost ruined by a long suit in
Chancery, which was decreed for me with costs.
He asked, "What time was usually spent in deter-
mining between right and wrong, and what degree
of expense? Whether advocates and orators had
liberty to plead in causes manifestly known to be
unjust, vexatious, or oppressive? Whether party,
in religion or politics, were observed to be of any
weight in the scale of justice? Whether those
pleading orators were persons educated in the gene-
ral knowledge of equity, or only in provincial,
national, and other local customs? Whether they
or their judges had any part in penning those laws,
which they assumed the liberty of interpreting and
glossing upon at their pleasure? Whether they had
ever, at different times, pleaded for and against the
pleaded for and against the
same cause, and cited precedents to prove contrary
opinions? Whether they were a rich or a poor cor-
poration? Whether they received any pecuniary
reward for pleading or delivering their opinions?
And particularly whether they were ever admitted
as members in the lower senate ?"
He fell next upon the management of our trea-
sury, and said, "He thought my memory had failed
me, because I computed our taxes at about five or
six millions a-year, and when I came to mention
the issues, he found they sometimes amounted to
more than double; for the notes he had taken were
very particular in this point, because he hoped, as
he told me, that the knowledge of our conduct
might be useful to him, and he could not be de-
ceived in his calculations. But, if what I told him
were truc, he was still at a loss how a kingdom
could run out of its estate, like a private person."
He asked me, "Who were our creditors, and where
we found money to pay them?" He wondered to
hear me talk of such chargeable and expensive wars ;
"That certainly we must be a quarrelsome people,
or live among very bad neighbours, and that our
generals must needs be richer than our kings." He
asked, "What business we had out of our own
islands, unless upon the score of trade or treaty, or
to defend the coasts with our fleet?" Above all, he
was amazed to hear me talk of a mercenary stand-
ing army, in the midst of peace and among a free
people. He said, "If we were governed by our
own consent, in the persons of our representatives,
he could not imagine of whom we were afraid, or
against whom we were to fight; and would hear my
opinion, whether a private man's house might not
better be defended by himself, his children, and
family, than by half a dozen rascals, picked up at a
venture in the streets for small wages, who might get
a hundred times more by cutting their throats ?”
He laughed at my "odd kind of arithmetic," as
he was pleased to call it, "in reckoning the num-
bers of our people by a computation drawn from the
several sects among us in religion and politics."
He said, "He knew no reason why those who enter-
tain opinions prejudicial to the public should be
obliged to change, or should not be obliged to con-
ceal them. And as it was tyranny in any govern-
ment to require the first, so it was weakness not to
enforce the second; for a man may be allowed to
keep poisons in his closet, but not to vend them
about for cordials.'
He observed, "That among the diversions of our
nobility and gentry I had mentioned gaming: he
desired to know, at what age this entertainment
was usually taken up, and when it was laid down;
how much of their time it employed; whether it ever
went so high as to affect their fortunes; whether
mean, vicious people, by their dexterity in that art,
might not arrive at great riches, and sometimes
keep our very nobles in dependence, as well as
habituate them to vile companions; wholly take
them from the improvement of their minds, and
force them, by the losses they sustained, to learn
and practise that infamous dexterity upon others."
He was perfectly astonished with the historical
account I gave him of our affairs during the last
century; protesting, "It was only a heap of conspi-
racies, rebellions, murders, massacres, revolutions,
banishments, the very worst effects that avarice
faction, hypocrisy, perfidiousness, cruelty, rage,
madness, hatred, envy, lust, malice, and ambition,
could produce."
His majesty, in another audience, was at the pains
to recapitulate the sum of all I had spoken; com-
pared the questions he made with the answers I had
given: then taking me into his hands, and stroking
me gently, delivered himself in these words, which
I shall never forget, nor the manner he spoke them
in: "My little friend Grildrig, you have made a
most admirable panegyric upon your country; you
have clearly proved, that ignorance, idleness, and
vice, are the proper ingredients for qualifying a le-
gislator; that laws are best explained, interpreted,
and applied, by those whose interest and abilities lie
in perverting, confounding, and eluding them. I
observe among you some lines of an institution,
which, in its original, might have been tolerable, but
these half erased, and the rest wholly blurred and
blotted by corruptions. It does not appear, from all
you have said, how any one perfection is required,
toward the procurement of any one station among
you; much less, that men are ennobled on account
of their virtue: that priests are advanced for their
piety or learning: soldiers, for their conduct or
D 2
36
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
valour; judges, for their integrity; senators, for the
love of their country; or counsellors, for their wisdom.
As for yourself," continued the king, "who have spent
the greatest part of your life in travelling, I am well
disposed to hope you may hitherto have escaped many
vices of your country. But by what I have gathered
from your own relation, and the answers I have with
much pains wringed and extorted from you, I cannot
but conclude the bulk of your natives to be the most
pernicious race of little odious vermin that nature
ever suffered to crawl upon the surface of the earth.'
CHAPTER VII.
The author's love of his country. He makes a proposal of much
advantage to the king, which is rejected. The king's great
ignorance in politics. The learning of that country very im-
perfect and confined. The laws and military aflairs, and
parties in the state.
NOTHING but an extreme love of truth could have
hindered me from concealing this part of my story.
It was in vain to discover my resentments, which
were always turned into ridicule; and I was forced
to rest with patience, while my noble and beloved
country was so injuriously treated. I am as heartily
sorry as any of my readers can possibly be, that such
an occasion was given: but this prince happened to
be so curious and inquisitive upon every particular,
that it could not consist either with gratitude or
good manners, to refuse giving him what satisfaction I
was able.
Yet thus much I may be allowed to say in
my own vindication, that I artfully eluded many of
his questions, and gave to every point a more favour-
able turn, by many degrees, than the strictness of
truth would allow; for I have always borne that
laudable partiality to my own country, which Dio-
nysius Halicarnassensis, with so much justice, re-
commends to an historian: I would hide the frail-
ties and deformities of my political mother, and place
her virtues and beauties in the most advantageous
light. This was my sincere endeavour, in those
many discourses I had with that monarch, although
it unfortunately failed of success.
|
large, hollow balls of iron, and discharged them by
an engine into some city we were besieging, which
would rip up the pavements, tear the houses to pieces,
burst, and throw splinters on every side, dashing
out the brains of all who came near. That I knew
the ingredients very well, which were cheap and
common; I understood the manner of compounding
them, and could direct his workmen how to make
those tubes, of a size proportionable to all other
things in his majesty's kingdom, and the largest
need not be above a hundred feet long; twenty or
thirty of which tubes, charged with the proper quan-
tity of powder and balls, would batter down the walls
of the strongest town in his dominions in a few hours,
or destroy the whole metropolis, if ever it should
pretend to dispute his absolute commands. This I
humbly offered to his majesty, as a small tribute of
acknowledgment, in return of so many marks that I
had received of his royal favour and protection."
The king was struck with horror at the description
I had given of those terrible engines, and the pro-
posal I had made. "He was amazed, how so impo-
tent and grovelling an insect as I," (these were his
expressions), "could entertain such inhuman ideas,
and in so familiar a manner, as to appear wholly
unmoved at all the scenes of blood and desolation
which I had painted, as the common effects of those
destructive machines; whereof," he said, "some evil
genius, enemy to mankind, must have been the first
contriver. As for himself, he protested, that although
few things delighted him so much as new discoveries
in art or in nature, yet he would rather lose half his
kingdom than be privy to such a secret; which he
commanded me, as I valued my life, never to men-
tion any more.
A strange effect of narrow principles and views!
that a prince, possessed of
that a prince, possessed of every quality which pro-
cures veneration, love, and esteem; of strong parts,
great wisdom, and profound learning, endued with
admirable talents, and almost adored by his subjects,
should, from a nice, unnecessary scruple, whereof in
Europe, we can have no conception, let slip an op-
But great allowances should be given to a king
who lives wholly secluded from the rest of the world,portunity put into his hands, that would have made
and must therefore be altogether unacquainted with
the manners and customs that prevail in other na-
tions: the want of which knowledge will ever pro-
duce many prejudices, and a certain narrowness of
thinking, from which we, and the politer countries of
Europe are wholly exempted. And it would be hard
indeed, if so remote a prince's notions of virtue and
vice were to be offered as a standard for all mankind.
To confirm what I have now said, and further to
show the miserable effects of a confined education, I
shall here insert a passage which will hardly obtain
belief. In hopes to ingratiate myself further into his
majesty's favour, I told him of "an invention, dis-
covered between three and four hundred years ago,
to make a certain powder, into a heap of which
the smallest spark of fire falling would kindle the
whole in a moment, although it were as big as a
mountain, and make it all fly up in the air together,
with a noise and agitation greater than thunder.
That a proper quantity of this powder, rammed into
a hollow tube of brass or iron, according to its big-
ness, would drive a ball of iron or lead with such
violence and speed, as nothing was able to sustain
its force. That the largest balls thus discharged
would not only destroy whole ranks of an army at
once, but batter the strongest walls to the ground,
sink down ships with a thousand men in each, to
the bottom of the sea; and when linked together by
a chain, would cut through masts and rigging, divide
hundreds of bodies in the middle, and lay all waste
before them. That we often put this powder into
him absolute master of the lives, the liberties, and
the fortunes of his people! Neither do I
Neither do I say this
with the least intention to detract from the many
virtues of that excellent king, whose character I am
sensible will on this account be very much lessened
in the opinion of an English reader; but I take this
defect among them to have risen from their ignorance,
by not having hitherto reduced politics into a science,
as the more acute wits of Europe have done. For
I remember very well in a discourse one day with
the king when I happened to say, "there were se-
veral thousand books among us written upon the art
of government," it gave him (directly contrary to
my intention) a very mean opinion of our under-
standings. He professed both to abominate and de-
spise all mystery, refinement, and intrigue, either in
a prince or a minister. He could not tell what I
meant by secrets of state, where an enemy, or some
rival nation, were not in the case. He confined the
knowledge of governing within very narrow bounds,
to common sense and reason, to justice and lenity,
to the speedy determination of civil and criminal
causes; with some other obvious topics, which are
not worth considering. And he gave it for his opin-.
ion, “That whoever could make two ears of corn, or
two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground
where only one grew before, would deserve better of
mankind, and do more essential service to his country,
than the whole race of politicians put together."
The learning of this people is very defective, con-
sisting only in morality, history, poetry, and mathe-
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
37
matics, wherein they must be allowed to excel. But
the last of these is wholly applied to what may be
useful in life, to the improvement of agriculture,
and all mechanical arts, so that, among us, it would
be little esteemed. And as to ideas, entities, ab-
stractions, and transcendentals, I could never drive
the least conception into their heads.
No law of that country must exceed in words the
number of letters in their alphabet, which consists
only of two-and-twenty.
But indeed few of them
extend even to that length. They are expressed in
the most plain and simple terms, wherein those peo-
ple are not mercurial enough to discover above one
interpretation; and to write a comment upon any
law is a capital crime. As to the decision of civil
causes, or proceedings against criminals, their pre-
cedents are so few, that they have little reason to
boast of any extraordinary skill in either.
They have had the art of printing, as well as the
Chinese, time out of mind: but their libraries are
not very large; for that of the king, which is reck-
oned the largest, does not amount to above a thou-
sand volumes, placed in a gallery of twelve hundred
feet long, whence I had liberty to borrow what books
I pleased. The queen's joiner had contrived, in
one of Glumdalclitch's rooms, a kind of wooden
machine, five-and-twenty feet high, formed like a
standing ladder; the steps were each fifty feet long.
It was indeed a moveable pair of stairs, the lowest
end placed at ten feet distance from the wall of the
chamber. The book I had a mind to read was put
up leaning against the wall; I first mounted to the
upper step of the ladder, and turning my face towards
the book, began at the top of the page, and so walk-
ing to the right and left about eight or ten paces,
according to the length of the lines, till I had gotten
a little below the level of mine eyes, and then de-
scending gradually till I came to the bottom; after
which I mounted again, and began the other page
in the same manner, and so turned over the leaf,
which I could easily do with both my hands, for it
was as thick and stiff as pasteboard, and in the largest
folios not above eighteen or twenty feet long.
Their style is clear, masculine, and smooth, but
not florid; for they avoid nothing more than multi-
plying unnecessary words, or using various expres-
sions. I have perused many of their books, especi-
ally those in history and morality. Among the rest
I was much diverted with a little old treatise, which
always lay in Glumdalclitch's bed-chamber, and be-
longed to her governess, a grave elderly gentlewoman,
who dealt in writings of morality and devotion. The
book treats of the weakness of human kind, and is
in little esteem, except among the women and the
vulgar. However, I was curious to see what an
author of that country could say upon such a subject.
This writer went through all the usual topics of
European moralists, showing "how diminutive, con-
temptible, and helpless an animal was man in his
own nature; how unable to defend himself from
inclemencies of the air, or the fury of wild beasts:
how much he was excelled by one creature in
strength, by another in speed, by a third in foresight,
by a fourth in industry.' He added "that nature
was degenerated in these latter declining ages of the
world, and could now produce only small abortive
births, in comparison of those in ancient times."
He said, "it was very reasonable to think, not
only that the species of men were originally
much larger, but also that there must have been
giants in former ages; which, as it is asserted
by history and tradition, so it has been confirmed
by huge bones and skulls, casually dug up in
several parts of the kingdom, far exceeding the
common dwindled race of men in our days." He
argued, "that the very laws of nature absolutely
required we should have been made, in the begin-
ning, of a size more large and robust; not so liable
to destruction from every little accident, of a tile
falling from a house, or a stone cast from the hand
of a boy, or being drowned in a little brook.” From
this way of reasoning, the author drew several moral
applications, useful in the conduct of life, but need-
less here to repeat. For my own part, I could not
avoid reflecting how universally this talent was spread,
of drawing lectures in morality, or indeed rather
matter of discontent and repining, from the quarrels
we raise with nature. And I believe, upon a strict
ill
inquiry, those quarrels might be shown as
grounded among us as they are among that people.*
As to their military affairs, they boast that the
king's army consists of a hundred and seventy-six
thousand foot, and thirty-two thousand horse: if
that may be called an army, which is made up of
tradesmen in the several cities and farmers in the
country, whose commanders are only the nobility
and gentry, without pay or reward. They are in-
deed perfect enough in their exercises and under very
good discipline, wherein I saw no great merit: for
how should it be otherwise, where every farmer is
under the command of his own landlord, and every
citizen under that of the principal men in his own
city, chosen after the manner of Venice, by ballot?
I have often seen the militia of Lorbrulgrud
drawn out to exercise in a great field near the city,
of twenty miles square. They were in all not above
twenty-five thousand foot and six thousand horse;
but it was impossible for me to compute their num-
ber, considering the space of ground they took up.
A cavalier mounted on a large steed might be about
ninety feet high. I have seen this whole body of
horse upon a word of command draw their swords
at once and brandish them in the air. Imagination
can figure nothing so grand, so surprising, and so
astonishing!
astonishing! It looked as if ten thousand flashes of
lightning were darting at the same time from every
quarter of the sky.
I was curious to know how this prince, to whose
dominions there is no access from any other country
came to think of armies, or to teach his people the
practice of military discipline. But I was soon in-
formed, both by conversation and reading their
histories; for in the course of many ages, they have
been troubled with the same disease to which the
whole race of mankind is subject: the nobility often
contending for power, the people for liberty, and the
king for absolute dominion. All which, however
happily tempered by the laws of that kingdom, have
been sometimes violated by each of the three parties,
and have more than once occasioned civil wars; the
last whereof was happily put an end to by this
prince's grandfather, in a general composition; and
the militia, then settled with common consent, has
been ever since kept in the strictest duty.
CHAPTER VIII.
The king and queen make a progress to the frontiers. The
author attends them. The manner in which he leaves the
country very particularly related. He returns to England.
I HAD always a strong impulse that I should some
time recover my liberty, though it was impossible to
conjecture by what means, or to form any project
with the least hope of succeeding. The ship in
which I sailed was the first ever known to be driven
within sight of that coast, and the king had given
strict orders, "that if at any time another appeared,
it should be taken ashore, and with all its crew and
* The author's zeal to justify Providence here is shown.
38
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS,
passengers brought in a tumbril to Lorbrulgrud." f
He was strongly bent to get me a woman of my own
size, by whom I might propagate the breed; but I
think I should rather have died than undergone the
disgrace of leaving a posterity to be kept in cages,
liko tame canary birds, and perhaps in time, sold
about the kingdom to persons of quality for curiosi-
ties. I was indeed treated with much kindness; I
was the favourite of a great king and queen, and the
delight of the whole court; but it was upon such a
foot as ill became the dignity of humankind.
I
could never forget those domestic pledges I had left
behind me. I wanted to be among people with
whom I could converse upon even terms, and walk
about the streets and fields without being afraid of
being trod to death like a frog or a young puppy.
But my deliverance came sooner than I expected,
and in a manner not very common; the whole story
and circumstances of which I shall faithfully relate.
I had now been two years in this country; and
about the beginning of the third, Glumdalclitch and
I attended the king and queen in a progress to the
south coast of the kingdom. I was carried as usual
in my travelling box, which as I have already de-
scribed was a very convenient closet, of twelve feet
wide. And I had ordered a hammock to be fixed,
by silken ropes, from the four corners at the top, to
break the jolts when a servant carried me before
him on horseback, as I sometimes desired; and
would often sleep in my hammock, while we were
upon the road.
On the roof of my closet, not
directly over the middle of the hammock, I ordered
the joiner to cut out a hole of a foot square, to give
me air in hot weather, as I slept: which hole I shut
at pleasure with a board that drew backward and
forward through a groove.
When we came to our journey's end, the king
thought proper to pass a few days at a palace he has
near Flanflasnic, a city within eighteen English
miles of the sea-side. Glumdalclitch and I were
much fatigued: I had gotten a small cold, but the
poor girl was so ill as to be confined to her chamber.
I longed to see the ocean, which must be the only
scene of my escape, if ever it should happen. I
pretended to be worse than I really was, and desired
leave to take the fresh air of the sea, with a page I
was very fond of, and who had been sometimes
trusted with me. I shall never forget with what
unwillingness Glumdalclitch consented, nor the
strict charge she gave the page to be careful of me,
bursting at the same time into a flood of tears, as if
she had some foreboding of what was to happen.
The boy took me out in my box, about half an hour's
walk from the palace, towards the rocks on the sea-
shore. I ordered him to set me down, and lifting
up one of the sashes, cast many a wistful melancholy
look towards the sea. I found myself not very well,
and told the page that I had a mind to take a nap in
my hammock, which I hoped would do me good. I
got in, and the boy shut the window close down to
keep out the cold. I soon fell asleep, and all I can
conjecture is, that while I slept, the page thinking
no danger could happen, went among the rocks to
look for birds' eggs, having before observed him from
my window searching about and picking up one or
two in the clefts. Be that as it will, I found myself
suddenly awakened with a violent pull upon the ring,
which was fastened at the top of my box for the
conveniency of carriage. I felt my box raised very
high in the air, and then borne forward with pro-
digious speed. The first jolt had like to have shaken
me out of my hammock, but afterwards the motion
was easy enough. I called out several times, as
loud as I could raise my voice, but all to no purpose
|
I looked towards my windows and could see nothing
but the clouds and sky. I heard a noise just over
my head, like the clapping of wings, and then began
to perceive the woful condition I was in; that some
eagle had got the ring of my box in his beak, with
an intent to let it fall on a rock, like a tortoise in
a shell, and then pick out my body and devour it ;
for the sagacity and smell of this bird enabled
him to discover his quarry at a great distance,
though better concealed than I could be within a
two-inch board.
In a little time, I observed the noise and flutter
of wings to increase very fast, and my box was toss-
ed up and down like a sign in a windy day. I
heard several bangs or buffets, as I thought given to
the eagle, (for such I am certain it must have been
that held the ring of my box in his beak,) and then,
all on a sudden, felt myself falling perpendicularly
down, for above a minute, but with such incredible
swiftness that I almost lost my breath. My fall was
stopped by a terrible squash that sounded louder to
my ears than the cataract of Niagara ;* after which I
was quite in the dark for another minute, and then
my box began to rise so high, that I could see light
from the tops of the windows. I now perceived I
was fallen into the sea. My box by the weight of
my body, the goods that were in, and the broad
plates of iron fixed for strength at the four corners
of the top and bottom, floated about five feet deep
in water. I did then, and do now suppose, that the
eagle who flew away with my box was pursued by
two or three others, and forced to let me drop,
while he defended himself against the rest, who
hoped to share in the prey. The plates of iron fast-
ened at the bottom of the box (for those were the
strongest) preserved the balance while it fell, and
hindered it from being broken on the surface of the
water. Every joint of it was well grooved; and the
door did not move on hinges, but up and down like
a sash, which kept my closet so tight, that very little
water came in. I got with much difficulty out of
my hammock, having first ventured to draw back
the slip board on the roof already mentioned, con-
trived on purpose to let in air, for want of which I
found myself almost stifled.
Λ
How often did I then wish myself with my dear
Glumdalclitch, from whom one single hour had so
far divided me! And I may say with truth, that in
the midst of my own misfortunes, I could not for-
bear lamenting my poor nurse, the grief she would
suffer for my loss, the displeasure of the queen, and
the ruin of her fortune. Perhaps many travellers
have not been under greater difficulties and dis-
tress than I was at this juncture, expecting every
moment to see my box dashed to pieces, or at least
overset by the first violent blast, or rising wave.
breach in one single pane of glass would have been
immediate death: nor could anything have preserved
the windows, but the strong lattice wires placed on
the outside, against accidents in travelling. I saw
the water ooze in at several crannies, although the
leaks were not considerable, and I endeavoured to
stop them as well as I could. I was not able to lift
up the roof of my closet, which otherwise I certainly
should have done, and sat on the top of it; where I
might at least preserve myself some hours longer,
than by being shut up (as I may call it) in the hold.
Or, if I escaped these dangers for a day or two,
what could I expect but a miserable death of cold
and hunger? I was for four hours under these cir-
cumstances, expecting, and indeed wishing, every
moment to be my last.
*The hoight of which is 1371 feet; and it is said to have been
heard 45 miles.
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
39
I have already told the reader that there were two
strong staples fixed upon that side of my box which
had no window, and into which the servant who
used to carry me on horseback would put a leathern
belt, and buckle it about his waist. Being in this
disconsolate state, I heard, or at least thought I
heard, some kind of grating noise on that side of my
box where the staples were fixed; and soon after I
began to fancy that the box was pulled or towed
along the sea; for I now and then felt a sort of
tugging, which made the waves rise near the tops of
my windows, leaving me almost in the dark. This
gave me some faint hopes of relief, although I was
not able to imagine how it could be brought about.
I ventured to unscrew one of my chairs, which were
always fastened to the flour; and having made a
hard shift to screw it down again, directly under the
slipping-board that I had lately opened, I mounted
on the chair, and putting my mouth as near as I
could to the hole, I called for help in a loud voice,
and in all the languages I understood. I then fast-
ened my handkerchief to a stick I usually carried,
and thrusting it up the hole, waved it several times
in the air, that if any boat or ship were near, the
seamen might conjecture some unhappy mortal to
be shut up in the box.
I found no effect from all I could do, but plainly
perceived my closet to be moved along; and in the
space of an hour, or better, that side of the box
where the staples were, and had no windows, struck
against something that was hard. I apprehended it
to be a rock, and found myself tossed more than
ever. I plainly heard a noise upon the cover of my
closet, like that of a cable, and the grating of it as
it passed through the ring. I then found myself
hoisted up by degrees, at least three feet higher than
I was before. Whereupon I again thrust up my
stick and handkerchief, calling for help till I was
almost hoarse. In return to which, I heard a great
shout repeated three times, giving me such trans-
ports of joy as are not to be conceived but by those
who feel them. I now heard a trampling over my
head, and somebody calling through the hole with a
loud voice, in the English tongue, "If there be any
body below, let them speak." I answered, "I was
an Englishman, drawn by ill fortune into the great-
est calamity that ever any creature underwent, and
begged by all that was moving to be delivered out of
the dungeon I was in.” The voice replied, "I was
safe, for my box was fastened to their ship; and the
carpenter should immediately come and saw a hole
in the cover, large enough to pull me out." I an-
swered "that was needless, and would take up too
much time; for there was no more to be done, but
let one of the crew put his finger into the ring, and
take the box out of the sea into the ship, and so into
the captain's cabin." Some of them upon hearing
me talk so wildly, thought I was mad; others laugh-
ed; for indeed it never came into my head that I
was now got among people of my own stature and
strength. The carpenter came, and in a few
minutes sawed a passage about four feet square, then
let down a small ladder, upon which I mounted,
and thence was taken into the ship in a very weak
condition.
The sailors were all in amazement, and asked me
a thousand questions, which I had no inclination to
answer. I was equally confounded at the sight of so
many pigmics, for such I took them to be, after
having so long accustomed mine eyes to the mon-
strous objects I had left. But the captain, Mr.
Thomas Wilcocks, an honest worthy Shropshire man,
observing I was ready to faint, took me into his
cabin, gave me a cordial to comfort me, and made
me turn in upon his own bed, advising me to take a
little rest, of which I had great need. Before I
went to sleep I gave him to understand that I had
some valuable furniture in my box, too good to be
lost; a fine hammock; a handsome field-bed, two
chairs, a table, and a cabinet. That my closet was
hung on all sides, or rather quilted with silk and
cotton: that if he would let one of the crew bring
up my closet into his cabin, I would open it there
before him and show him my goods. The captain
hearing me utter these absurdities, concluded I was
raving: however (I suppose to pacify me) he pro-
mised to give order as I desired, and going upon
deck, sent some of his men down into my closet,
whence (as I afterwards found), they drew up all
my goods, and stripped off the quilting; but the
chairs, cabinet, and bedstead, being screwed to the
floor, were much damaged by the ignorance of the
seamen, who tore them up by force. Then they
knocked off some of the boards for the use of the
ship, and when they got all they had a mind for, let
the hull drop into the sea, which by reason of many
breaches made in the bottom and sides, sunk to
rights. And indeed I was glad not to have been a
spectator of the havock they made, because I am
confident it would have sensibly touched me, by
bringing former passages into my mind, which I
would rather have forgot.
I slept some hours, but perpetually disturbed
with dreams of the place I had left, and the dangers
I had escaped. However, upon waking I found my-
self much recovered. It was now about eight
o'clock at night, and the captain ordered supper
immediately, thinking I had already fasted too long.
He entertained me with great kindness, observing
me not to look wildly, or talk inconsistently; and
when we were left alone, desired I would give him a
relation of my travels, and by what accident I came
to be set adrift in that monstrous wooden chest.
He said, "That about twelve o'clock at noon, as he
was looking through his glass he spied it at a distance,
and thought it was a sail, which he had a mind to
make, being not much out of his course, in hopes of
buying some biscuit, his own beginning to fall short.
That, upon coming nearer, and finding his error, he
sent out his long boat to discover what it was; that
his men came back in a fright, swearing they had
seen a swimming house. That he laughed at their
folly, and went himself in the boat, ordering his men
to take a strong cable along with them. That the
weather being calm, he rowed round me several
times, observed my windows, and wire lattices that
defended them. That he discovered two staples
upon one side, which was all of boards, without any
passage for light. He then commanded his men to
row up to that side, and fastening a cable to one of
the staples, ordered them to tow my chest, as they
called it, towards the ship. When it was there, he
gave directions to fasten another cable to the ring
fixed in the cover, and to raise up my chest with
pulleys, which all the sailors were not able to do
above two or three feet. He said they saw my
stick and handkerchief thrust out of the hole, and
concluded that some unhappy man must be shut up
in the cavity." I asked, "Whether he or the crew
had seen any prodigious birds in the air, about the
time he first discovered me?" To which he answered,
"That discoursing this matter with the sailors while
I was asleep, one of them said, he had observed
three eagles flying towards the north, but remarked
nothing of their being larger than the usual size;"
which I suppose must be imputed to the great height
they were at; and he could not guess the reason of
my question. I then asked the captain, "How far
he reckoned we might be from land?" He said, "By
the best computation he could make, we were at
40
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
|
their own vanity or interest, or the diversion of ig-
norant readers; that my story could contain little
beside common events, without those ornamental
descriptions of strange plants, trees, birds, and other
animals; or, of the barbarous customs and idolatry
of savage people, with which most writers abound.
However, I thanked him for his good opinion, and
promised to take the matter into my thoughts."
least a hundred leagues." I assured him "That he
must be mistaken by almost half, for I had not left
the country whence I came above two hours before
I dropped into the sea." Whereupon he began again
to think that my brain was disturbed, of which he
gave me a hint, and advised me to go to bed in a
cabin he had provided. I assured him "I was
well refreshed with his good entertainment and
company, and as much in my senses as ever I was
in my life." He then grow serious, and desired to
ask me freely "Whether I were not troubled in my
mind by the consciousness of some cnormous crime,
for which I was punished, at the command of some
prince, by exposing me in that chest; as great cri-
minals in other countries have been forced to sca in
a leaky vessel without provisions: for, although he
should be sorry to have taken so ill a man into his
ship, yet he would engage his word to set me safe
ashore in the first port where we arrived." He
added “that his suspicions were much increased,
by some very absurd speeches I had delivered at first
to his sailors, and afterwards to himself in relationship, and the sailors stood all about me, I thought
to my closet or chest, as well as by my odd looks
and behaviour while I was at supper."
I begged his patience to hear me tell my story,
which I faithfully did from the last time I left Eng-
land to the moment he first discovered me.
And as
truth always forces its way into rational minds, so
this honest, worthy gentleman, who had some tinc-
ture of learning, and very good sense, was imme-
diately convinced of my candour and veracity. But
further, to confirm all I have said, I entrcated him
to give order that my cabinet should be brought, of
which I had the key in my pocket; for he had
already informed me how the seamen disposed of
my closet. I opened it in his own presence, and
showed him the small collection of rarities I made
in the country from which I had been so strangely
delivered. There was the comb I had contrived out
of the stumps of the king's beard, and another of
the same materials, but fixed into the paring of her
majesty's thumb-nail, which served for the back.
There was a collection of needles and pins from a foot
to half-a-yard long; four wasps' stings like joiners'
tacks; some combings of the queen's hair; a gold ring,
which one day she made me a present of in a most
obliging manner, taking it from her little finger and
throwing it over my head like a collar. I desired
the captain would please to accept this ring in return
of his civilities, which he absolutely refused.
showed him a corn that I had cut off, with my own
hand, from a maid of honour's toe; it was about the
bigness of a Kentish pippin, and grown so hard,
that when I returned to England I got it hollowed
into a cup, and set in silver. Lastly, I desired him
to see the breeches I had then on, which were made
of a mouse's skin.
I
He re-
I could force nothing on him but a footman's
tooth, which I observed him to examine with great
curiosity, and found he had a fancy for it.
ceived it with abundance of thanks, more than such
a trifle could deserve. It was drawn by an unskilful
surgeon in a mistake from one of Glumdalclitch's
men, who was afflicted with the toothach, but it was
as sound as any in his head. I got it cleaned, and
put it into my cabinet. It was about a foot long,
and four inches in diameter.
The captain was very well satisfied with this plain
relation I had given him, and said, "He hoped,
when we returned to England, I would oblige the
world by putting it on paper and making it public."
My answer was, "That I thought we were already
overstocked with books of travels: that nothing could
now pass which was not extraordinary; wherein I
doubted some authors less consulted truth than
He said, "He wondered at one thing very much,
which was, to hear me speak so loud;" asking me,
"Whether the king or queen of that country were
thick of hearing?" I told him, "It was what I had
been used to for above two years past, and that I
admired as much at the voices of him and his men,
who seemed to me only to whisper, and yet I could
hear them well enough. But when I spoke in that
country it was like a man talking in the streets to
another looking out from the top of a steeple, un-
less when I was placed on a table, or held in any
person's hand." I told him "I had likewise ob-
served another thing, that when I first got into the
they were the most little contemptible creatures I
had ever beheld." For indeed while I was in that
prince's country, I could never endure to look in a
glass after mine eyes had been accustomed to such
prodigious objects, because the comparison gave me
so despicable a conceit of myself. The captain said,
"That while we were at supper he observed me to
look at everything with a sort of wonder, and that
I often seemed hardly able to contain my laughter,
which he knew not well how to take, but imputed it
to some disorder in my brain.” I answered, "It
was very true; and I wondered how I could forbear,
when I saw his dishes of the size of a silver three-
pence, a leg of pork hardly a mouthful, a cup not so
big as a nut-shell;" and so I went on describing the
rest of his household-stuff and provisions, after the
same manner. For although the queen had ordered
a little equipage of all things necessary for me while
I was in her service, yet my ideas were wholly taken
up with what I saw on every side of me, and I
winked at my own littleness, as people do at their
own faults. The captain understood my raillery
very well, and merrily replied with the old English
proverb, "That he doubted mine eyes were bigger
than my belly, for he did not observe my stomach so
good, although I had fasted all day ;" and continuing
in his mirth, protested "he would have gladly given
a hundred pounds, to have seen my closet in the
eagle's bill, and afterwards in its fall from so great
a height into the sea; which would certainly have
been a most astonishing object, worthy to have the
description of it transmitted to future ages:" and
the comparison of Phaëton was so obvious, that he
could not forbear applying it, although I did not
much admire the conceit.
The captain having been at Tonquin, was, in his
return to England, driven north-castward to the
latitude of 44 degrees, and longitude of 143. But
meeting a trade-wind two days after I came on board
him, we sailed southward a long time, and coasting
New Holland, kept our
New Holland, kept our course west-south-west,
and then south-south-west, till we doubled the Cape
of Good Hope. Our voyage was very prosperous,
but I shall not trouble the reader with a journal of
it. The captain called in at one or two ports, and
sent in his long-boat for provisions and fresh water;
but I never went out of the ship till we came into the
Downs, which was on the third day of June, 1706,
about nine months after my escape. I offered to leave
my goods in security for payment of my freight; but
the captain protested he would not receive one far-
thing. We took a kind leave of each other, and I made
him promise he would come to see me at my house in
A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
41
Redriff. I hired a horse and guide for five shillings,
which I borrowed of the captain.
As I was on the road, observing the littleness of
the houses, the trees, the cattle, and the people, I
began to think myself in Lilliput. I was afraid of
trampling on every traveller I met, and often called
aloud to have them stand out of the way, so that I
had like to have gotten one or two broken heads for
my impertinence.
When I came to my own house, for which I was
forced to inquire, one of the servants opening the
door, I bent down to go in, (like a goose under a
gate), for fear of striking my head. My wife ran
out to embrace, but I stooped lower than her knees,
thinking she could otherwise never be able to reach
my mouth. My daughter kneeled to ask my blessing,
but I could not see her till she arose, having been so
long used to stand with my head and eyes erect to
above sixty feet; and then I went to take her up
with one hand by the waist. I looked down upon
the servants, and one or two friends who were in
the house, as if they had been pigmies and I a giant
I told my wife "She had been too thrifty, for I
found she had starved herself and her daughter to
nothing." In short, I behaved myself so unaccount-
ably that they were all of the captain's opinion
when he first saw me, and concluded I had lost my
wits. This I mention as an instance of the great
power of habit and prejudice.
In a little time I and my family and friends came
to a right understanding; but my wife protested
"I should never go to sea any more;" although my
evil destiny so ordered, that she had not power
to hinder me, as the reader may know hereafter. In
the mean time, I here conclude the second part of
my unfortunate voyages.
PART THE THIRD.
A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, BALNIBARBI, LUGGNAGG, GLUBBDUBDRIB, AND JAPAN.*
CHAPTER I.
The author sets out on his third voyage. Is taken by pirates.
The malice of a Dutchman. His arrival at an island. He
is received into Laputa.
I HAD not been at home above ten days when cap-
tain William Robinson, a Cornish man, commander
of the Hopewell, a stout ship of three hundred tons,
came to house.
my
I had formerly been surgeon of
another ship, where he was master and a fourth part
owner, in a voyage to the Levant. He had always
treated me more like a brother than an inferior off-
cer; and hearing of my arrival made me a visit, as
I apprehended, only out of friendship, for nothing
passed more than what is usual after long absences.
But repeating his visits often, expressing his joy to
find me in good health, asking, "Whether I were
now settled for life?" adding, "That he intended a
voyage to the East Indies in two months;" at last
he plainly invited me, though with some apologies,
to be surgeon of the ship; "That I should have
another surgeon under me, beside our two mates;
that my salary should be double to the usual pay;
and that, having experienced my knowledge in sea
affairs to be at least equal to his, he would enter
into any engagement to follow my advice, as much
as if I had shared in the command.”
He said so many other obliging things, and I knew
him to be so honest a man, that I could not reject
his proposal; the thirst I had of seeing the world,
notwithstanding my past misfortunes, continuing as
violent as ever. The only difficulty that remained
was to persuade my wife, whose consent, however,
I at last obtained, by the prospect of advantage she
proposed to her children.
We set out the 5th day of August, 1706, and ar-
rived at Fort St. George the 11th of April, 1707.
We stayed there three weeks to refresh our crew,
many of whom were sick. From thence we went
to Tonquin, where the captain resolved to continue
some time, because many of the goods he intended
to buy were not ready, nor could he expect to be
despatched in several months. Therefore, in hopes
to defray some of the charges he must be at, he
bought a sloop, loaded it with several sorts of goods,
*Swift has borrowed hints, in his Voyage to Laputa, from a
work by Dr. Francis Godwin, bishop of Landaff, called "The
Man in the Moon, or a Discourse of a Voyage thither; by Do-
mingo Gonsales.'
wherewith the Tonquinese usually trade to the
neighbouring islands, and putting fourteen men on
board, whereof three were of the country, he appoint-
ed me master of the sloop, and gave me power to
traffic, while he transacted his affairs at Tonquin.
We had not sailed above three days when, a great
storm arising, we were driven five days to the north-
north-east, and then to the east; after which we
had fair weather, but still with a pretty strong gale
from the west. Upon the tenth day we were chased
by two pirates, who soon overtook us; for my sloop
was so deep laden that she sailed very slow; neither
were we in a condition to defend ourselves.
We were boarded about the same time by both
the pirates, who entered furiously at the head of
their men; but, finding us all prostrate upon our
faces, (for so I gave order,) they pinioned us with
strong ropes, and, setting a guard upon us, went to
search the sloop.
I observed among them a Dutchman, who seemed
to be of some authority, though he was not com-
mander of either ship. He knew us by our coun-
tenances to be Englishmen, and, jabbering to us
in his own language, swore we should be tied back
to back and thrown into the sea. I spoke Dutch
tolerably well: I told him who we were, and begged
him, in consideration of our being Christians and
Protestants, of neighbouring countries in strict alli-
ance, that he would move the captains to take some
pity on us. This inflamed his rage; he repeated
his threatenings, and, turning to his companions,
spoke with great vehemence in the Japanese lan-
guage, as I suppose, often using the word Christianos.
I
The largest of the two pirate ships was com-
manded by a Japanese captain, who spoke a little
Dutch, but very imperfectly. He came up to me,
and, after several questions, which I answered in
great humility, he said "We should not die."
made the captain a very low bow, and then turning
to the Dutchman said, "I was sorry to find more
mercy in a heathen than in a brother Christian."
But I had soon reason to repent those foolish words;
for that malicious reprobate, having often endea-
voured in vain to persuade both the captains that I
might be thrown into the sea, (which they would
not yield to after the promise made me that I should
not die,) however, prevailed so far, as to have a
punishment inflicted on me worse, in all human ap-
42
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
pearance, than death itself. My men were sent by
an equal division into both the pirate ships, and my
sloop new manned. As to myself, it was determin-
ed that I should be set adrift in a small canoe, with
paddles and a sail, and four days' provisions; which
last the Japanese captain was so kind to double out
of his own stores, and would permit no man to
search me. I got down into the canoe, while the
Dutchman, standing upon the deck, loaded me with
all the curses and injurious terms his language could
afford.
About an hour before we saw the pirates I had
taken an observation, and found we were in the
latitude of 46 N. and longitude of 183. When I
When I
was at some distance from the pirates, I discovered
by my pocket glass several islands to the south-east.
I set up my sail, the wind being fair, with a design
to reach the nearest of those islands, which I made
a shift to do in about three hours. It was all rocky;
however I got many birds' eggs; and, striking fire,
I kindled some heath and dry sea-weed, by which I
roasted my eggs. I ate no other supper, being re-
solved to spare my provisions as much as I could.
I passed the night under the shelter of a rock, strew-
ing some heath under me, and slept pretty well.
The next day I sailed to another island, and
thence to a third and fourth, sometimes using my
sail and sometimes my paddles. But not to trouble
the reader with a particular account of my distresses,
let it suffice, that on the fifth day I arrived at the
last island in my sight, which lay south-south-east to
the former.
This island was at a greater distance than I ex-
pected, and I did not reach it in less than five hours.
I encompassed it almost round before I could find a
convenient place to land in; which was a small
creek, about three times the wideness of my canoe.
I found the island to be all rocky, only a little inter-
mingled with tufts of grass and sweet-smelling
herbs. I took out my small provisions, and after
having refreshed myself I secured the remainder in
a cave, whereof there were great numbers. I ga-
thered plenty of eggs upon the rocks, and got a
quantity of dry sea-weed and parched grass, which I
designed to kindle the next day, and roast my eggs
as well as I could; for I had about me my flint, steel,
match, and burning-glass. I lay all night in the cave
where I had lodged my provisions. My bed was the
same dry grass and sea-weed which I intended for
fuel. I slept very little, for the disquiets of my
mind prevailed over my weariness, and kept me
awake. I considered how impossible it was to pre-
serve my life in so desolate a place, and how miser-
able my end must be; yet found myself so listless
and desponding, that I had not the heart to rise;
and before I could get spirits enough to creep out of
my cave the day was far advanced. I walked a
while among the rocks: the sky was perfectly clear,
and the sun so hot that I was forced to turn my
face from it; when, all on a sudden, it became ob-
scure, as I thought, in a manner very different from
what happens by the interposition of a cloud. I
turned back, and perceived a vast opaque body be-
tween me and the sun, moving forwards towards the
island: it seemed to be about two miles high, and
hid the sun six or seven minutes, but I did not ob-
serve the air to be much colder, or the sky more
darkened, than if I had stood under the shade of a
mountain. As it approached nearer over the place
where I was, it appeared to be a firm substance, the
bottom flat, smooth, and shining very bright, from
the reflection of the sea below. I stood upon a
height about two hundred yards from the shore, and
saw this vast body descending almost to a parallel
with me, at less than an English mile distance. I
took out my pocket-perspective, and could plainly
discover numbers of people moving up and down the
sides of it, which appeared to be sloping; but what
those people were doing I was not able to distin-
guish.
The natural love of life gave me some inward mo-
tion of joy, and I was ready to entertain a hope, that
this adventure might, some way or other, help to de-
liver me from the desolate place and condition I was
in. But, at the same time, the reader can hardly
conceive my astonishment to behold an island in the
air, inhabited by men, who were able (as it should
seem) to rise or sink, or put it in progressive motion,
as they pleased. But not being at that time in a
disposition to philosophise upon this phenomenon I
rather chose to observe what course the island would
take, because it seemed for a while to stand still.
Yet, soon after, it advanced nearer, and I could see
the sides of it encompassed with several gradations
of galleries, and stairs, at certain intervals, to descend
from one to the other. In the lowest gallery I be-
held some people fishing with long angling rods,
and others looking on. I waved my cap (for my hat
was long since worn out) and my handkerchief to-
wards the island; and upon its nearer approach I
called and shouted with the utmost strength of my
voice; and then looking circumspectly, I beheld a
crowd gather to that side which was most in my
view. I found, by their pointing towards me and to
each other, that they plainly discovered me, although
they made no return to my shouting. But I could
see four or five men running in great haste up the
stairs, to the top of the island, who then disappear-
ed. I happened rightly to conjecture that these
were sent for orders to some person in authority,
upon this occasion.
The number of people increased, and in less than
half an hour the island was moved and raised in such
a manner, that the lowest gallery appeared in a pa-
rallel of less than a hundred yards' distance from the
height where I stood. I then put myself into the
most supplicating postures, and spoke in the hum-
blest accent, but received no answer. Those who
stood nearest over against me seemed to be persons
of distinction, as I supposed by their habit. They
conferred earnestly with each other, looking often
upon me. At length one of them called out in a
clear, polite, smooth dialect, not unlike in sound to
the Italian; and, therefore, I returned an answer in
that language, hoping, at least, that the cadence
might be more agreeable to his ears. Although nei-
ther of us understood the other, yet my meaning
was easily known, for the people saw the distress I
was in.
They made signs for me to come down from the
rock and go towards the shore, which I accordingly
did; and the flying island being raised to a conve-
nient height, the verge directly over me, a chain
was let down from the lowest gallery, with a seat
fastened to the bottom, to which I fixed myself and
was drawn up by pulleys.
CHAPTER II.
The humours and dispositions of the Laputians described. An
account of their learning. Of the king and his court. The
Author's reception there. The inhabitants subject to fear
and disquietudes. An account of the women.
Ar my alighting, I was surrounded with a crowd of
people, but those who stood nearest seemed to be
of better quality. They beheld me with all the
marks and circumstances of wonder; neither indeed.
was I much in their debt, having never till then
seen a race of mortals so singular in their shapes,
A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
43
In each
habits, and countenances. Their heads were all |
reclined, either to the right or the left; one of their
eyes turned inward, and the other directly up to the
zenith. Their outward garments were adorned
with the figures of suns, moons, and stars, inter-
woven with those of fiddles, flutes, harps, trumpets,
guitars, harpsichords and many other instruments of
music unknown to us in Europe. I observed here
and there many in the habit of servants, with a
blown bladder fastened like a flail to the end of a
stick, which they carried in their hands.
bladder was a small quantity of dried pease, or little
pebbles, as I was afterwards informed. With these
bladders they now and then flapped the mouths and
ears of those who stood near them, of which prac-
tice I could not then conceive the meaning. It
seems the minds of these people are so taken up
with intense speculations, that they neither can
speak nor attend to the discourses of others, without
being roused by some external taction upon the or-
gans of speech and hearing; for which reason, those
persons who are able to afford it, always keep a
flapper (the original is climenole,) in their family, as
one of their domestics, nor ever walk abroad or
make visits without him. And the business of this
officer is, when two, three, or more persons are in
company, gently to strike with his bladder the
mouth of him who is to speak, and the right ear of
him or them to whom the speaker addresses him-
self. This flapper is likewise employed diligently
to attend his master in his walks, and upon occasion
to give him a soft flap on his eyes, because he is
always so wrapped up in cogitation, that he is in
manifest danger of falling down every precipice, and
bouncing his head against every post; and in the
streets of justling others or being justled himself
into the kennel.
It was necessary to give the reader this informa-
tion, without which he would be at the same loss
with me to understand the proceedings of these peo-
ple, as they conducted me up the stairs to the top of
the island, and from thence to the royal palace.
While we were ascending they forgot several times
what they were about, and left me to myself till
their memories were again roused by their flappers;
for they appeared altogether unmoved by the sight
of my foreign habit and countenance, and by the
shouts of the vulgar, whose thoughts and minds
were more disengaged.
At last we entered the palace and proceeded into
the chamber of presence, where I saw the king
seated on his throne, attended on each side by per-
sons of prime quality. Before the throne was a
large table filled with globes and spheres and ma-
thematical instruments of all kinds. His majesty
took not the least notice of us, although our entrance
was not without sufficient noise, by the concourse
of all persons belonging to the court. But he was
then deep in a problem, and we attended at least an
hour before he could solve it. There stood by him
on each side a young page with flaps in their hands,
and when they saw he was at leisure, one of them
gently struck his mouth, and the other his right
ear; at which he startled like one awaked on the
sudden, and looking towards me and the company I
was in, recollected the occasion of our coming,
whereof he had been informed before. He spoke
some words, whereupon immediately a young man
with a flap came up to my side, and flapped me
gently on the right ear; but I made signs as well as
I could that I had no occasion for such an instru-
ment; which as I afterwards found, gave his ma-
jesty and the whole court a very mean opinion of
my understanding. The king as far as I could con-
He spoke
jecture asked me several questions, and I addressed
When it
myself to him in all the languages I had.
was found I could neither understand nor be under-
stood, I was conducted by his order to an apartment
in his palace, (this prince being distinguished above
all his predecessors for his hospitality to strangers,)
where two servants were appointed to attend me.
My dinner was brought, and four persons of quality
whom I remembered to have seen very near the
king's person, did me the honour to dine with me.
We had two courses of three dishes each. In the
first course there was a shoulder of mutton cut into
an equilateral triangle, a piece of beef into a rhom-
boides, and a pudding into a cycloid. The second
course was two ducks trussed up in the form of
fiddles, sausages and puddings resembling flutes and
hautboys, and a breast of veal in the shape of a
harp. The servants cut our bread into cones, cy-
linders, parallelograms, and several other mathema-
tical figures.
While we were at dinner, I made bold to ask the
names of several things in their language, and those
noble persons by the assistance of their flappers de-
lighted to give me answers, hoping to raise my ad-
miration of their great abilities if I could be brought
to converse with them. I was soon able to call for
bread or drink or whatever else I wanted.
After dinner my company withdrew, and a person
was sent to me by the king's order attended by a
flapper. He brought with him pen, ink, and paper,
and three or four books, giving me to understand
by signs that he was sent to teach me the language.
We sat together four hours, in which time I wrote
down a great number of words in columns, with the
translations over against them; I likewise made a
shift to learn several short sentences. For my tutor
would order one of my servants to fetch something,
to turn about, to make a bow, to sit, or to stand or
walk, and the like. Then I took down the sentence
in writing. He showed me also in one of his books.
the figures of the sun, moon and stars, the zodiac,
the tropics and polar circles, together with the de-
nominations of many planes and solids. He gave
me the names and descriptions of all the musical
instruments, and the general terms of art in playing
on each of them. After he had left me, I placed all
my words with their interpretation in alphabetical
order. And thus in a few days by the help of a
very faithful memory I got some insight into their
language.
The word which I interpret the flying or floating
island, is in the original Laputa, whereof I could
never learn the true etymology. Lap, in the old
obsolete language signifies high; and untuh, a go-
vernor; from which they say by corruption was de-
rived Laputa, from Lapuntuh. But I do not ap-
prove of this derivation, which seems to be a little
strained. I ventured to offer to the learned among
them a conjecture of my own that Laputa was quasi
lap outed; lap signifying properly the dancing of the
sun-beams in the sea, and outed, a wing; which
however I shall not obtrude, but submit to the judi-
cious reader.
Those to whom the king had entrusted me ob-
serving how ill I was clad, ordered a tailor to come
next morning and take measure for a suit of clothes.
This operator did his office after a different manner
from those of his trade in Europe. He first took my
altitude by a quadrant, and then with rule and com-
passes described the dimensions and outlines of my
whole body; all which he entered upon paper, and in
six days brought my clothes, very ill made, and quite
out of shape, by happening to mistake a figure in
the calculation. But my comfort was that I ob-
44
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
served such accidents very frequent and little re-
garded.
During my confinement for want of clothes, and
by an indisposition that held me some days longer,
I much enlarged my dictionary; and when I went
next to court was able to understand many things
the king spoke, and to return him some kind of
answers. His majesty had given orders that the
island should move north-east and by east to the
vertical point over Lagado, the metropolis of the
whole kingdom below upon the firm earth.
It was
about ninety leagues distant, and our voyage lasted
four days and a half. I was not in the least sen-
sible of the progressive motion made in the air by
the island. On the second morning about eleven
o'clock, the king himself in person, attended by his
nobility, courtiers and officers, having prepared all
their musical instruments, played on them for three
hours without intermission, so that I was quite
stunned with the noise; neither could I possibly
guess the meaning till my tutor informed me. He
said "that the people of their island had their ears
adapted to hear the music of the spheres, which
always played at certain periods, and the court was
now prepared to bear their part in whatever in-
strument they most excelled."
In our journey towards Lagado, the capital city,
his majesty ordered that the island should stop over
certain towns and villages, from whence he might
receive the petitions of his subjects. And to this
purpose several packthreads were let down with
small weights at the bottom. On these packthreads
the people strung their petitions, which mounted up
directly like the scraps of paper fastened by school-
boys at the end of the string that holds their kite.
Sometimes we received wine and victuals from be-
low, which were drawn up by pulleys.
The knowledge I had in mathematics gave me
great assistance in acquiring their phraseology,
which depended much upon that science and mu-
sic; and in the latter I was not unskilled. Their
ideas are perpetually conversant in lines and figures.
If they would for example praise the beauty of a
woman or any other animal, they describe it by
rhombs, circles, parallelograms, ellipses and other
geometrical terms, or by words of art drawn from
music, needless here to repeat. I observed in the
king's kitchen all sorts of mathematical and musical
instruments, after the figures of which they cut up
the joints that were served to his majesty's table.
Their houses are very ill built, the walls bevel
without one right angle in any apartment, and this
defect arises from the contempt they bear to practi-
cal geometry, which they despise as vulgar and
mechanic; those instructions they give being too
refined for the intellects of their workmen, which
occasions perpetual mistakes. And although they
are dexterous enough upon a piece of paper, in the
management of the rule, the pencil and the divider,
yet in the common actions and behaviour of life I
have not seen a more clumsy, awkward and unhandy
people, nor so slow and perplexed in their concep-
tions upon all other subjects except those of mathe-
matics and music. They are very bad reasoners,
and vehemently given to opposition, unless when
they happen to be of the right opinion, which is
seldom their case. Imagination, fancy, and inven-
tion they are wholly strangers to, nor have any
words in their language by which those ideas can
be expressed, the whole compass of their thoughts
and mind being shut up within the two foremen-
tioned sciences.
Most of them, and especially those who deal in
the astronomical part, have great faith in judicial
astrology, although they are ashamed to own it pub-
licly. But what I chiefly admired and thought
altogether unaccountable, was the strong disposition
I observed in them towards news and politics, per-
petually inquiring into public affairs, giving their
judgments in matters of state, and passionately dis-
puting every inch of a party opinion. I have indeed
observed the same disposition among most of the
mathematicians I have known in Europe, although
I could never discover the least analogy between the
two sciences; unless those people suppose that be-
cause the smallest circle has as many degrees as the
largest, therefore the regulation and management of
the world require no more abilities than the hand-
ling and turning of a globe: but I rather take this
quality to spring from a very common infirmity of
human nature, inclining us to be most curious and
conceited in matters where we have least concern,
and for which we are least adapted by study or
nature.
These people are under continual disquietudes,
never enjoying a minute's peace of mind; and their
disturbances proceed from causes which very little
affect the rest of mortals. Their apprehensions
arise from several changes they dread in the celestial
bodies. For instance, that the earth by the conti-
nual approaches of the sun towards it must in
course of time be absorbed or swallowed up. That
the face of the sun will by degrees be encrusted with
its own effluvia, and give no more light to the world.
That the earth very narrowly escaped a brush from
the tail of the last comet, which would have infalli-
bly reduced it to ashes; and that the next, which
they have calculated for one-and-thirty years hence,
will probably destroy us. For, if in its perihelion
it should approach within a certain degree of the
sun, (as by their calculations they have reason to
dread,) it will receive a degree of heat ten thousand
times more intense than that of red-hot glowing
iron, and in its absence from the sun carry a blazing
tail ten hundred thousand and fourteen miles long;
through which if the earth should pass at the dis-
tance of one hundred thousand miles from the nu-
cleus or main body of the comet, it must in its pas-
sage be set on fire and reduced to ashes.
That the
sun daily spending its rays without any nutriment
to supply them, will at last be wholly consumed
and annihilated; which must be attended with the
destruction of this earth, and of all the planets
that receive their light from it.
They are so perpetually alarmed with the appre-
hensions of these, and the like impending dangers,
that they can neither sleep quietly in their beds, nor
have any relish for the common pleasures and
amusements of life. When they meet an acquaint-
ance in the morning, the first question is about the
sun's health, how he looked at his setting and
rising, and what hopes they have to avoid the stroke
of the approaching comet. This conversation they
are apt to run into with the same temper that boys
discover in delighting to hear terrible stories of
spirits and hobgoblins, which they greedily listen to
and dare not go to bed for fear.
The women of the island have abundance of viva-
city; they contemn their husbands, and are exceed-
ingly fond of strangers, whereof there is always a
considerable number from the continent below, at-
tending at court either upon affairs of the several
towns and corporations, or their own particular
occasions, but are much despised, because they
want the same endowments. Among these the
ladies choose their gallants; but the vexation is,
that they act with too much ease and security; for
the husband is always so wrapt in speculation, that
A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c
45
the mistress and lover may proceed to the greatest
familiarities before his face, if he be but provided
with paper and implements, and without his flapper
at his side.
The wives and daughters lament their confine-
ment to the island, although I think it the most
delicious spot of ground in the world; and although
they live here in the greatest plenty and inagnifi-
cence, and are allowed to do whatever they please,
they long to see the world, and take the diversions
of the metropolis, which they are not allowed to do
without a particular licence from the king; and this
is not easy to be obtained, because the people of
quality have found by frequent experience, how
hard it is to persuade their women to return from
below. I was told that a great court lady who had
several children, is married to the prime minister,
the richest subject in the kingdom, a very graceful
person, extremely fond of her, and lives in the finest
palace of the island; went down to Lagado on the
pretence of health, there hid herself for several
months, till the king sent a warrant to search for
her and she was found in an obscure eating-house,
all in rags, having pawned her clothes to maintain
an old deformed footman, who beat her every day,
and in whose company she was taken much against
her will. And although her husband received her
with all possible kindness, and without the least re-
proach, she soon after contrived to steal down again
with all her jewels to the same gallant, and has not
been heard of since.
This may perhaps pass with the reader rather for
an European or English story, than for one of a
country so remote. But he may please to consider,
that the caprices of womankind are not limited by
any climate or nation, and that they are much more
uniform than can be easily imagined.
In about a month's time I had made a tolerable
proficiency in their language, and was able to an-
swer most of the king's questions, when I had the
honour to attend him. His majesty discovered not
the least curiosity to inquire into the laws, govern-
ment, history, religion, or manners of the countries
where I had been; but confined his questions to the
state of mathematics, and received the account I
gave him with great contempt and indifference,
though often roused by his flapper on each side.
CHAPTER III.
A phenomenon solved by modern philosophy and astronomy.
The Laputians' great improvements in the latter. The
king's method of suppressing Insurrections.
I DESIRED leave of this prince to see the curiosities
of the island, which he was graciously pleased to
grant, and ordered my tutor to attend me. I chiefly
wanted to know, to what cause, in art or nature, it
owed its several motions, whereof I will now give a
philosophical account to the reader.
The flying or floating island is exactly circular, its
diameter 7837 yards, or about four miles and a half,
and consequently contains ten thousand acres.
It
is three hundred yards thick. The bottom, or
under-surface, which appears to those who view it
below, is one even regular plate of adamant, shoot-
ing up to the height of about two hundred yards.
Above it lie the several minerals in their usual
order, and over all is a coat of rich mould, ten or
twelve feet deep. The declivity of the upper surface,
from the circumference to the centre, is the natural
cause why all the dews and rains which fall upon
the island are conveyed in small rivulets toward
the middle, where they are emptied into four large
basins, each of about half-a-mile in circuit, and two
hundred yards distant from the centre. From these
basins the water is continually exhaled by the sun
in the day-time, which effectually prevents their
overflowing. Besides, as it is in the power of the
monarch to raise the island above the region of
clouds and vapours, he can prevent the falling of
dews and rain whenever he pleases; for the high-
est clouds cannot rise above two miles, as naturalists
agree, at least they were never known to do so in
that country.
At the centre of the island there is a chasm,
about fifty yards in diameter, whence the astrono-
mers descend into a large dome, which is therefore
called flandona gaynole, or the astronomer's cave,
situated at the depth of a hundred yards beneath
the upper surface of the adamant.
In this cave are
twenty lamps continually burning, which, from the
reflection of the adamant, cast a strong light into
every part. The place is stored with great variety
of sextants, quadrants, telescopes, astrolabes, and
other astronomical instruments. But the greatest
curiosity upon which the fate of the island depends,
is a loadstone of a prodigious size, in shape resemb-
ling a weaver's shuttle. It is in length six yards,
and in the thickest part at least three yards over.
This magnet is sustained by a very strong axle of
adamant passing through its middle, upon which it
plays and is poised so exactly, that the weakest
hand can turn it. It is hooped round with a hollow
cylinder of adamant, four feet deep, as many thick,
and twelve yards in diameter, placed horizontally,
and supported by eight adamantine feet, each six
yards high. In the middle of the concave side there
is a groove twelve inches deep, in which the ex-
tremities of the axle are lodged, and turned round
as there is occasion.
The stone cannot be moved from its place by any
force, because the hoop and its feet are one con-
tinued piece with that body of adamant which con-
stitutes the bottom of the island.
By means of this loadstone the island is made to
rise and fall, and move from one place to another;
for with respect to that part of the earth over
which the monarch presides, the stone is endued at
one of its sides with an attractive power, and at the
other with a repulsive. Upon placing the magnet
erect, with its attracting end towards the earth, the
island descends; but when the repelling extremity
points downwards the island mounts directly up-
wards. When the position of the stone is oblique,
the motion of the island is so too; for in this mag-
net the forces always act in lines parallel to its
direction.
By this oblique motion the island is conveyed to
different parts of the monarch's dominions. To ex-
plain the manner of its progress, let A B represent a
line drawn across the dominions of Balnibarbi, let
the line c d represent the loadstone, of which let d
be the repelling end, and c the attracting end, the
island being over C: let the stone be placed in
position e d, with its repelling end downwards ;
then the island will be driven upwards obliquely to-
wards D. When it is arrived at D, let the stone be
turned upon its axle till its attracting end points
towards E, and then the island will be carried ob-
liquely towards E; where, if the stone be again
turned upon its axle, till it stands in the position
EF, with its repelling point downwards, the island
will rise obliquely towards F, where, by directing
the attracting end towards G, the island may be
carried to G, and from G to H, by turning the stone
so as to make its repelling extremity point directly
downward. And thus, by changing the situation of
the stone as often as there is occasion, the island is
made to rise and fall by turns in an oblique direc
46
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
tion, and by those alternate risings and fallings
(the obliquity being not considerable) is conveyed
from one part of the dominions to the other.
But it must be observed that this island cannot
move beyond the extent of the dominions below,
nor can it rise above the height of four miles. For
which the astronomers (who have written large
systems concerning the stone) assign the following
reason; that the magnetic virtue does not extend
beyond the distance of four miles, and that the
mineral which acts upon the stone in the bowels of
the earth, and in the sea about six leagues distant
from the shore, is not diffused through the whole
globe, but terminated with the limits of the king's
dominions; and it was easy, from the great advan-
tage of such a superior situation, for a prince to
bring under his obedience whatever country lay
within the attraction of that magnet.
When the stone is put parallel to the plane of the
horizon the island stands still; for in that case the
extremities of it being at equal distance from the
earth, act with equal force, the one in drawing
downwards, the other in pushing upwards, and con-
sequently no motion can ensue.
This loadstone is under the care of certain astrono-
mers, who from time to time give it such positions
as the monarch directs. They spend the greatest
part of their lives in observing the celestial bodies,
which they do by the assistance of glasses, far ex-
celling ours in goodness; for although their largest
telescopes do not exceed three feet they magnify
much more than those of a hundred with us, and
show the stars with greater clearness. This advan-
tage has enabled them to extend their discoveries
much further than our astronomers in Europe; for
they have made a catalogue of ten thousand fixed
stars, whereas the largest of ours do not contain
above one-third part of that number. They have
likewise discovered two lesser stars, or satellites,
which revolve about Mars, whereof the innermost
is distant from the centre of the primary planet ex-
actly three of his diameters, and the outermost five;
the former revolves in the space of ten hours, and
the latter in twenty-one and a half; so that the
squares of their periodical times are very near in the
same proportion with the cubes of their distance,
from the centre of Mars; which evidently shows
them to be governed by the same law of gravitation
that influences the other heavenly bodies.
If
They have observed ninety-three different comets,
and settled their periods with great exactness.
this be true (and they affirm it with great confi-
dence), it is much to be wished that their observa-
tions were made public, whereby the theory of
comets, which at present is very lame and defective,
might be brought to the same perfection with other
parts of astronomy.
The king would be the most absolute prince in
the universe if he could but prevail on a ministry to
join with him; but these having their estates below
on the continent, and considering that the office of
a favourite has a very uncertain tenure, would never
consent to the enslaving of their country.
If any town should engage in rebellion or mutiny,
fall into violent factions, or refuse to pay the usual
tribute, the king has two methods of reducing them
to obedience. The first, and the mildest course is,
by keeping the island hovering over such a town,
and the lands about it, whereby he can deprive them
of the benefit of the sun and the rain, and conse-
quently afflict the inhabitants with dearth and dis-
cases. And if the crime deserve it, they are at the
same time pelted from above with great stones,
against which they have no defence but bv creeping
|
into cellars or caves, while the roofs of their houses
are beaten to pieces.
are beaten to pieces. But if they still continue ob-
stinate, or offer to raise insurrections, he proceeds
to the last remedy, by letting the island drop di-
rectly upon their heads, which makes an universal
destruction both of houses and men. However,
this is an extremity to which the prince is seldom
driven, neither indeed is he willing to put it in exe…
cution; nor dare his ministers advise him to an
action which, as it would render them odious to
the people, so it would be a great damage to their
own estates, which lie all below; for the island is
the king's demesne.
But there is still indeed a more weighty reason
why the kings of this country have been always
averse from executing so terrible an action, unless
upon the utmost necessity; for, if the town in-
tended to be destroyed should have in it any tall
rocks, as it generally falls out in the larger cities, a
situation probably chosen at first with a view to
prevent such a catastrophe; or if it abound in high
spires or pillars of stone, a sudden fall might en-
danger the bottom or uuder surface of the island,
which, although it consist, as I have said, of one
entire adamant two hundred yards thick, might
happen to crack by too great a shock, or burst, by
approaching too near the fires from the houses
below, as the backs both of iron and stone will
often do in our chimneys. Of all this the people
are well apprised, and understand how far to carry
their obstinacy, where their liberty or property is
concerned. And the king, when he is highest pro-
voked, and most determined to press a city to rub-
bish, orders the island to descend with great gentle-
ness, out of a pretence of tenderness to his people,
but indeed for fear of breaking the adamantine
bottom; in which case it is the opinion of all their
philosophers that the loadstone could no longer
hold it up, and the whole mass would fall to the
ground.
By a fundamental law of this realm, neither the
king nor either of his two elder sons are permitted
to leave the island; nor the queen, till she is past
child-bearing.
CHAPTER IV.
The author leaves Laputa; is conveyed to Balnibarbi; arrives
at the metropolis. A description of the metropolis and the
country adjoining. The author hospitably received by a
great lord. His conversation with that lord.
ALTHOUGH I cannot say that I was ill treated in this
island, yet I must confess I thought myself too much
neglected, not without some degree of contempt;
for neither prince nor people appeared to be curious.
in any part of knowledge, except mathematics and
music, wherein I was far their inferior, and upon
that account very little regarded.
On the other side, after having seen all the curi-
osities of the island, I was very desirous to leave it,
being heartily weary of those people. They were
indeed excellent in two sciences, for which I have
great esteem, and wherein I am not unversed; but
at the same time so abstracted and involved in
speculation that I never met with such disagreeable
companions. I conversed only with women, trades-
men, flappers, and court-pages, during two months
of my abode there; by which at last I rendered
myself extremely contemptible; yet these were the
only people from whom I could ever receive a rea-
sonable answer.
I had obtained, by hard study, a good degree of
knowledge in their language; I was weary of being
confined to an island where I received so little
A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
47
countenance, and resolved to leave it with the first
opportunity.
There was a great lord at court, nearly related to
the king, and for that reason alone used with re-
spect. He was universally reckoned the most igno-
rant and stupid person among them.
He had per-
formed many eminent services for the crown, had
great natural and acquired parts, adorned with in-
tegrity and honour; but so ill an ear for music that
his detractors reported "he had been often known
to beat time in the wrong place;" neither could his
tutors without extreme difficulty teach him to demon-
strate the most easy proposition in the mathematics.
He was pleased to show me many marks of favour,
often did me the honour of a visit, desired to be
informed in the affairs of Europe, the laws and
customs, the manners and learning of the several
countries where I had travelled. He listened to
me with great attention, and made very wise ob-
servations on all I spoke. He had two flappers
attending him for state, but never made use of them
except at court and in visits of ceremony, and would
always command them to withdraw when we were
alone together.
I entreated this illustrious person to intercede in
my behalf with his majesty, for leave to depart,
which he accordingly did, as he was pleased to tell
me, with regret; for indeed he had made me se-
veral offers very advantageous, which however I
refused, with expressions of the highest acknow-
ledgment.
On the 16th of February I took leave of his ma-
jesty and the court. The king made me a present
to the value of about two hundred pounds English,
and my protector his kinsman as much more; to-
gether with a letter of recommendation to a friend.
of his in Lagado, the metropolis: the island being
then hovering over a mountain about two miles.
from it, I was let down from the lowest gallery, in
the same manner as I had been taken up.
The continent, as far as it is subject to the mo-
narch of the flying island, passes under the general
name of Balnibarbi; and the metropolis, as I said
before, is called Lagado. I felt some little satisfac-
tion in finding myself on firm ground. I walked to
the city without any concern, being clad like one
of the natives, and sufficiently instructed to converse
with them. I soon found out the person's house to
whom I was recommended, presented my letter
from his friend the grandee in the island, and was
received with much kindness. This great lord,
whose name was Munodi, ordered me an apartment
in his own house, where I continued during my
stay, and was entertained in a most hospitable
manner.
The next morning after my arrival he took me in
his chariot to see the town, which is about half the
bigness of London; but the houses very strangely
built, and most of them out of repair. The people
in the streets walked fast, looked wild, their eyes
fixed, and were generally in rags. We passed
through one of the town gates, and went about
three miles into the country, where I saw many
labourers working with several sorts of tools in the
ground, but was not able to conjecture what they
were about; neither did I observe any expectation
either of corn or grass, although the soil appeared
to be excellent. I could not forbear admiring at
these odd appearances, both in town and country;
and I made bold to desire my conductor that he
would be pleased to explain to me what could be
meant by so many busy heads, hands, and faces,
both in the streets and the fields, because I did not
discover any good effects they produced; but on
the contrary I never knew a soil so unhappily cul-
tivated, houses so ill contrived and so ruinous, or a
people whose countenances and habit expressed so
much misery and want.
This Lord Munodi was a person of the first rank,
and had been some years governor of Lagado; but,
by a cabal of ministers was discharged for insuf-
ficiency. However, the king treated him with ten-
derness, as a well-meaning man, but of a low con-
temptible understanding.
When I gave that free censure of the country and
its inhabitants, he made no further answer than by
telling me "That I had not been long enough
among them to form a judgment; and that the dif-
ferent nations of the world had different customs;"
with other common topics to the same purpose.
But when we returned to his palace he asked me
"How I liked the building, what absurdities I ob-
served, and what quarrel I had with the dress or
looks of his domestics?" This he might safely do,
because everything about him was magnificent,
regular, and polite. I answered, "That his ex-
cellency's prudence, quality, and fortune, had ex-
empted him from those defects which folly and beg-
gary had produced in others.” He said, "If I
would go with him to his country-house, about
twenty miles distant, where his estate lay, there
would be more leisure for this kind of conversa-
tion." I told his excellency "That I was entirely
at his disposal;" and accordingly we set out next
morning.
During our journey he made me observe the se-
veral methods used by farmers in managing their
lands, which to me were wholly unaccountable; for,
except in some very few places, I could not discover
one ear of corn or blade of grass. But in three
hours' travelling the scene was wholly altered; we
came into a most beautiful country; farmers' houses,
at small distances, neatly built; the fields enclosed,
containing vineyards, corn-grounds, and meadows.
Neither do I remember to have seen a more de-
That
lightful prospect. His excellency observed my
countenance to clear up; he told me with a sigh,
"That there his estate began, and would continue
the same till we should come to his house.
his countrymen ridiculed and despised him for
managing his affairs no better, and for setting so ill
an example to the kingdom; which however was
followed by very few, such as were old, and wilful,
and weak, like himself."
We came at length to the house, which was in-
deed a noble structure, built according to the best
rules of ancient architecture. The fountains, gar-
dens, walks, avenues, and groves, were all disposed
with exact judgment and taste. I gave due praises
to everything I saw, whereof his excellency took
not the least notice till after supper; when, there
being no third companion, he told me, with a very
melancholy air, that he doubted he must throw
down his houses in town and country, to rebuild
them after the present mode; destroy all his plan-
tations, and cast others into such a form as modern
usage required, and give the same directions to all
his tenants, unless he would submit to incur the
censure of pride, singularity, affectation, ignorance,
caprice, and perhaps increase his majesty's displea-
sure. That the admiration I appeared to be under
would cease or diminish when he had informed me
of some particulars which, probably, I never heard
of at court; the people there being too much taken
up in their own speculations to have regard to what
passed here below.
The sum of his discourse was to this effect:
"That about forty years ago certain persons went
48
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
up to Laputa, either upon business or diversion,
and after five months' continuance came back
with a very little smattering in mathematics, but
full of volatile spirits acquired in that airy region.
That these persons upon their return began to dis-
like the management of everything below, and fell
into schemes of putting all arts, sciences, languages,
and mechanics, upon a new foot. To this end they
procured a royal patent for erecting an academy of
projectors in Lagado; and the humour prevailed so
strongly among the people that there is not a town
of any consequence in the kingdom without such
an academy. In these colleges the professors con-
trive new rules and methods of agriculture and
building, and new instruments and tools for all
trades and manufactures; whereby, as they under-
take, one man shall do the work of ten; a palace
may
be built in a week of materials so durable as to
last for ever without repairing. All the fruits of
the earth shall come to maturity at whatever season
we think fit to choose, and increase a hundred
fold more than they do at present; with innumer-
able other happy proposals. The only inconve-
nience is, that none of these projects are yet brought
to perfection; and in the mean time the whole coun-
try lies miserably waste, the houses in ruins, and
the people without food or clothes. By all which,
instead of being discouraged, they are fifty times
more violently bent upon prosecuting their schemes,
driven equally on by hope and despair; that as for
himself, being not of an enterprising spirit, he was
content to go on in the old forms, to live in the
houses his ancestors had built, and act as they did
in every part of life, without innovation. That
some few other persons of quality and gentry had
done the same, but were looked on with an eye of
contempt and ill-will, as enemies to art, ignorant,
and ill commonwealth's men, preferring their own
ease and sloth before the general improvement of
their country."
His lordship added, "That he would not, by any
further particulars, prevent the pleasure I should
certainly take in viewing the grand academy, whi-
ther he was resolved I should go." He only desired
me to observe a ruined building upon the side of a
mountain about three miles distant, of which he gave
me this account: "That he had a very convenient
mill within half a mile of his house, turned by a
current from a large river, and sufficient for his
own family, as well as a great number of his tenants.
That about seven years ago a club of those pro-
jectors came to him with proposals to destroy this
mill, and build another on the side of that mountain
on the long ridge whereof a long canal must be cut,
for a repository of water, to be conveyed up by
pipes and engines to supply the mill; because the
wind and air upon a height agitated the water, and
thereby made it fitter for motion; and because the
water, descending down a declivity, would turn the
mill with half the current of a river, whose course is
more upon a level.” He said, "That being then
not very well with the court, and pressed by many
of his friends, he complied with the proposal; and
after employing a hundred men for two years, the
work miscarried, the projectors went off, laying the
blame entirely upon him, railing at him ever since,
and putting others upon the same experiment, with
equal assurance of success, as well as equal disap-
pointment."
In a few days we came back to town; and his ex-
cellency, considering the bad character he had in the
academy, would not go with me himself, but recom-
mended me to a friend of his, to bear me company
thither. My lord was pleased to represent me as a
great admirer of projects, and a person of much
curiosity, and easy belief; which indeed was not
without truth; for I had myself been a sort of pro-
jector in my younger days.
CHAPTER V.
The author permitted to see the grand academy of Lagado.
The academy largely described. The arts wherein the Pro-
fessors employ themselves.*
This academy is not an entire single building, but a
continuation of several houses on both sides of a
street, which growing waste, was purchased, and
applied to that use.
I was received very kindly by the warden, and went
for many days to the academy. Every room has in
it one or more projectors; and I believe I could not
be in fewer than five hundred rooms.
The first man I saw was of a meagre aspect, with
sooty hands and face, his hair and beard long,
ragged, and singed in several places. His clothes,
shirt, and skin, were all of the same colour. He
had been eight years upon a project for extracting
sun-beams out of cucumbers, which were to be put
in phials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm
the air in raw inclement summers. He told me he
did not doubt that in eight years more he should
be able to supply the governor's gardens with sun-
shine at a reasonable rate; but he complained that
his stock was low, and entreated me "to give him
something as an encouragement to ingenuity, espe-
cially since this had been a very dear season for
cucumbers." I made him a small present, for my
lord had furnished me with money on purpose,
because he knew their practice of begging from all
who go to see them.
When I was pre-
I went into another chamber, but was ready to
hasten back, being almost overcome with a horrible
stink. My conductor pressed me forward, conjur-
ing me in a whisper, "to give no offence, which
would be highly resented;" and therefore I durst
not so much as stop my nose. The projector of this
cell was the most ancient student of the academy;
his face and beard were of a pale yellow; his hands
and clothes daubed over with filth.
sented to him, he gave me a close embrace, a com-
pliment I could well have excused.
His employ-
ment, from his first coming into the academy, was
an operation to reduce human excrement to its ori-
ginal food, by separating the several parts, removing
the tincture which it receives from the gall, making
the ordure exhale, and scumming off the saliva.
had a weekly allowance from the society, of a vessel
filled with human ordure, about the bigness of a
Bristol barrel.
He
I saw another at work to calcine ice into gun-
powder, who likewise showed me a treatise he had
written concerning the malleability of fire, which he
intended to publish.
There was a most ingenious architect, who had
contrived a new method for building houses, by
beginning at the roof, and working downward to
the foundation; which he justified to me by the like
practice of those two prudent insects, the bee and
the spider.
There was a man born blind, who had several ap-
prentices in his own condition: their employment
was to mix colours for painters, which their master
taught them to distinguish, by feeling and smelling.
It was indeed my misfortune to find them at that
time not very perfect in their lessons, and the pro-
fessor himself happened to be generally mistaken.
*The occupations of the professors in the academy of Lagado
are copied from Rabelais.
A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
49
This artist is much encouraged and esteemed by the
whole fraternity.
In another apartment, I was highly pleased with a
projector who had found a device of ploughing the
ground with hogs, to save the charges of ploughs,
cattle, and labour. The method is this:-In an
acre of ground, you bury, at six inches distance, and
eight deep, a quantity of acorns, dates, chesnuts, and
other mast or vegetables, whereof these animals are
fondest; then you drive six hundred or more of
them into the field, where, in a few days, they will
root up the whole ground in search of their food,
and make it fit for sowing, at the same time manur-
ing it with their dung; it is true upon experiment
they found the charge and trouble very great, and
they had little or no crop. However, it is not
doubted that this invention may be capable of great
improvement.
I went into another room, where the walls and
ceiling were all hung round with cobwebs, except a
narrow passage for the artist to go in and out. At
my entrance, he called aloud to me "not to disturb
his webs." He lamented "the fatal mistake the
world had been so long in, of using silk-worms,
while we had such plenty of domestic insects, who
infinitely excelled the former, because they under-
stood how to weave, as well as spin." And he pro-
posed further, "That, by employing spiders, the
charge of dying silks should be wholly saved;"
whereof I was fully convinced, when he shewed me
a vast number of flies most beautifully coloured,
wherewith he fed his spiders, assuring us, "that the
webs would take a tincture for them; and as he
had them of all hues, he hoped to fit everybody's
fancy, as soon as he could find proper food for the
flies, of certain gums, oils, and other glutinous
matter, to give a strength and consistence to the
threads."
There was an astronomer, who had undertaken to
place a sun-dial upon the great weathercock on the
town house, by adjusting the annual and diurnal
motions of the earth and sun, so as to answer and
coincide with all accidental turnings of the wind.
I was complaining of a small fit of the colic, upon
which my conductor led me into a room where a
great physician resided, who was famous for curing
that disease, by contrary operations from the same
instrument. He had a large pair of bellows, with a
long slender muzzle of ivory; this he conveyed eight
inches up the anus, and drawing in the wind, he
affirmed he could make the guts as lank as a dried
bladder. But when the disease was more stubborn
and violent, he let in the muzzle while the bellows
were full of wind, which he discharged into the body
of the patient; then withdrew the instrument to
replenish it, clapping his thumb strongly against the
orifice of the fundament; and this being repeated
three or four times, the adventitious wind would rush
out, bring the noxious along with it, (like water put
into a pump,) and the patient recovered.
I saw
him try both experiments upon a dog, but could not
discern any effect from the former. After the latter
the animal was ready to burst, and made so violent
a discharge as was very offensive to me and my
companion. The dog died on the spot, and we left
the doctor endeavouring to recover him by the same
operation.
I visited many other apartments, but shall not
trouble my reader with all the curiosities I observed,
being studious of brevity.
I had hitherto seen only one side of the academy,
the other being appropriated to the advancers of
speculative learning, of whom I shall say something,
when I have mentioned one illustrious person more,
VOL. I.
|
who is called among them "the universal artist."
He told us "he had been thirty years employing his
thoughts for the improvement of human life.” He
had two large rooms full of wonderful curiosities,
and fifty men at work. Some were condensing air
into a dry tangible substance, by extracting the
nitre, and letting the aqueous or fluid particles per-
colate; others softening marble for pillows and pin-
cushions; others petrifying the hoofs of a living
horse to preserve them from foundering. The artist
himself was at that time busy upon two great designs ;
the first, to sow land with chaff, wherein he affirmed
the true seminal virtue to be contained, as he de-
monstrated by several experiments, which I was not
skilful enough to comprehend. The other was, by a
certain composition of gums, minerals, and vege-
tables, outwardly applied, to prevent the growth of
wool upon two young lambs; and he hoped in a
reasonable time to propagate the breed of naked
sheep all over the kingdom.
We crossed a walk to the other part of the aca-
demy, where, as I have already said, the projectors in
speculative learning resided.
The first professor I saw was in a very large room,
with forty pupils about him. After salutation, ob-
serving me to look earnestly upon a frame, which
took up the greatest part of both the length and
breadth of the room, he said, “ Perhaps I might
wonder to see him employed in a project for im-
proving speculative knowledge, by practical me-
chanical operations. But the world would soon be
sensible of its usefulness; and he flattered himself,
that a more noble exalted thought never sprang in
any other man's head. Every one knew how la-
borious the usual method is of attaining to arts and
sciences; whereas, by his contrivance, the most
ignorant person at a reasonable charge, and with
little bodily labour, might write books in philosophy,
poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology,
without the least assistance from genius or study."
He then led me to the frame, about the sides where-
of all his pupils stood in ranks. It was twenty feet
square, placed in the middle of the room. The
superficies was composed of several bits of wood,
about the bigness of a die, but some larger than
others. They were all linked together by slender
wires. These bits of wood were covered on every
square, with paper pasted on them; and on these
papers were written all the words of their language,
in their several moods, tenses, and declensions, but
without any order. The professor then desired me
"to observe; for he was going to set his engine
at work." The pupils at his command took each of
them hold of an iron handle, whereof there were
forty fixed round the edges of the frame, and giving
them a sudden turn, the whole disposition of the
words was entirely changed. He then commanded
six-and-thirty of the lads to read the several lines
softly, as they appeared upon the frame; and where
they found three or four words together that might
make part of a sentence they dictated to the four
remaining boys, who were scribes. This work was
repeated three or four times, and at every turn the
engine was so contrived, that the words shifted into
new places, as the square bits of wood moved upside
down.
Six hours a-day the young students were employed
in this labour; and the professor shewed me several
volumes in large folio, already collected, of broken
sentences, which he intended to piece together, and
out of those rich materials, to give the world a com-
plete body of all arts and sciences; which, however,
might be still improved, and much expedited, if the
public would raise a fund for making and employing
E
50
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
five hundred such frames in Lagado, and oblige the
managers to contribute in common their several
collections.
He assured me, "that this invention had employed
all his thoughts from his youth; that he had emptied
the whole vocabulary into his frame, and made the
strictest computation of the general proportion there
is in books between the number of particles, nouns,
and verbs, and other parts of speech."
I made my humblest acknowledgment to this
illustrious person, for his great communicative-
ness; and promised, "if ever I had the good fortune
to return to my native country, that I would do him
justice, as the sole inventor of this wonderful ma-
chine;" the form and contrivance of which I de-
sired leave to delineate on paper, as in the figure
here annexed. I told him, "although it were the
custom of our learned in Europe to steal inventions
from each other, who had thereby at least this ad-
vantage, that it became a controversy which was the
right owner; yet I would take such caution, that
he should have the honour entire, without a rival.”
We next went to the school of languages, where
three professors sat in consultation upon improving
that of their own country.
The first project was to shorten discourse, by cut-
ting polysyllables into one, and leaving out verbs
and participles, because, in reality all things imagin-
able are but nouns.
The other project was a scheme for entirely abolish-
ing all words whatsoever, and this was urged as a
great advantage in point of health, as well as brevity.
For it is plain, that every word we speak is, in
some degree, a diminution of our lungs by corrosion,
and consequently contributes to the shortening of
our lives. An expedient was therefore offered,
"that since words are only names for things, it
would be more convenient for all men to carry
about them such things as were necessary to express
a particular business they are to discourse on."
And this invention would certainly have taken
place, to the great case as well as health of the
subject, if the women, in conjunction with the vulgar
and illiterate, had not threatened to raise a rebellion,
unless they might be allowed the liberty to speak
with their tongues, after the manner of their fore-
fathers; such constant irreconcilable enemies to
science are the common people. However, many
of the most learned and wise adhere to the new
scheme of expressing themselves by things, which
has only this inconvenience attending it, that if a
man's business be very great, and of various kinds,
he must be obliged in proportion, to carry a greater
bundle of things upon his back, unless he can afford
one or two strong servants to attend him. I have
often beheld two of these sages almost sinking under
the weight of their packs, like pedlars among us;
who, when they meet in the street, would lay down
their loads, open their sacks, and hold conversation
for an hour together, then put up their implements,
help each other to resume their burdens, and take
their leave.
But for short conversations, a man may carry
implements in his pockets, and under his arms,
enough to supply him; and in his house he cannot
be at a loss. Therefore the room where company
meet who practise this art is full of all things ready
at hand, requisite to furnish matter for this kind of
artificial converse.
Another great advantage proposed by this inven-
tion was, that it would serve as a universal language
to be understood in all civilised nations, whose goods
and utensils are generally of the same kind, or nearly
resembling, so that their uses might easily be compre-
hended. And thus ambassadors would be qualified
to treat with foreign princes, or ministers of state, to
whose tongues they were utter strangers.
I was at the mathematical school where the master
taught his pupils, after a method scarce imaginable
to us in Europe. The proposition and demonstra-
tion were fairly written on a thin wafer, with ink
composed of a cephalic tincture. This the student
was to swallow upon a fasting stomach, and for three
days following eat nothing but bread and water.
As the wafer digested, the tincture mounted to his
brain, bearing the proposition along with it. But
the success has not hitherto been answerable, partly
by some error in the quantum or composition, and
partly by the perverseness of lads, to whom this
bolus is so nauseous, that they generally steal aside
and discharge it upwards, before it can operate;
neither have they been yet persuaded to use so long
an abstinence as the prescription requires.
CHAPTER VI.
A further account of the academy. The author proposes some
improvements, which are honourably received.
IN the school of political projectors I was but ill
entertained; the professors appearing, in my judg-
ment, wholly out of their senses, which is a scene
that never fails to make me melancholy. These
unhappy people were proposing schemes for per-
suading monarchs to choose favourites upon the
score of their wisdom, capacity, and virtue; of
teaching ministers to consult the public good; of
rewarding merit, great abilities, and eminent ser-
vices; of instructing princes to know their true
interest, by placing it on the same foundation with
that of their people; of choosing for employments
persons qualified to exercise them; with many other
wild impossible chimeras, that never entered before
into the heart of man to conceive; and confirmed
in me the old observation, "That there is nothing
so extravagant and irrational, which some philo-
sophers have not maintained for truth."
But, however, I shall so far do justice to this part
of the academy, as to acknowledge that all of them
were not so visionary. There was a most inge-
nious doctor, who seemed to be perfectly versed in
the whole nature and system of government. This
illustrious person had very usefully employed his
studies in finding out effectual remedies for all dis-
eases and corruptions to which the several kinds of
public administration are subject, by the vices or
infirmities of those who govern, as well as by the
licentiousness of those who are to obey. For in-
stance, whereas all writers and reasoners have agreed
that there is a strict universal resemblance between
the natural and the political body; can there be any-
thing more evident, than that the health of both must
be preserved, and the diseases cured by the same
prescriptions? It is allowed, that senates and great
councils are often troubled with redundant, ebullient,
and other peccant humours; with many diseases of
the head, and more of the heart; with strong con-
vulsions, with grievous contractions of the nerves
and sinews in both hands, but especially the right;
with spleen, flatus, vertigoes, and deliriums; with
scrofulous tumours, full of fetid purulent matter
with sour frothy ructations; with canine appetites,
and crudeness of digestion, besides many others,
needless to mention. This doctor, therefore, pro-
posed, "That upon the meeting of the senate,
certain physicians should attend at the three first
days of their sitting, and at the close of each day's
debate feel the pulses of every senator; after which,
having maturely considered and consulted upon the
;
A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
51
nature of the several maladies, and the methods of
cure, they should, on the fourth day, return to the
senate-house, attended by their apothecaries, stored
with proper medicines; and before the members
sat, administer to each of them lenitives, aperitives,
abstersives, corrosives, restringents, palliatives,
laxatives, cephalalgics, icterics, apophlegmatics,
acoustics, as their several cases required; and, ac-
cording as these medicines should operate, repeat,
alter, or omit them, at the next meeting."
This project could not be of any great expense to
the public, and might, in my poor opinion, be of
much use for the dispatch of business, in those coun-
tries where senates have any share in the legislative
power; beget unanimity, shorten debates, open a
few mouths which are now closed, and close many
more which are now open; curb the petulancy of
the young, and correct the positiveness of the old;
rouse the stupid, and damp the pert.
:
Again because it is a general complaint that the
favourites of princes are troubled with short and
weak memories; the same doctor proposed, "That
whoever attended a first minister, after having told
his business, with the utmost brevity, and in the
plainest words, should, at his departure, give the
said minister a tweak by the nose, or a kick on the
belly, or tread on his corns, or lug him thrice by
both ears, or run a pin into his breach, or pinch his
arm black and blue, to prevent forgetfulness; and
at every levee day repeat the same operation, till
the business were done, or absolutely refused."
He likewise directed, "That every senator in the
great council of a nation, after he had delivered his
opinion, and argued in the defence of it, should be
obliged to give his vote directly contrary; because,
if that were done, the result would infallibly ter-
minate in the good of the public."
When parties in a state are violent, he offered a
wonderful contrivance to reconcile them. The
method is this: you take a hundred leaders of each
party; you dispose them into couples of such whose
heads are nearest of a size; then let two nice ope-
rators saw off the occiput of each couple at the same
time, in such a manner, that the brain may be equally
divided. Let the occiputs thus cut off be inter-
changed, applying each to the head of his opposite
party-man. It seems indeed to be a work that
requires some exactness, but the professor assured us,
"That if it were dexterously performed, the cure
would be infallible." For he argued thus: "That
the two half brains, being left to debate the matter
between themselves within the space of one skull,
would soon come to a good understanding, and
produce that moderation, as well as regularity of
thinking, so much to be wished for in the heads of
those who imagine they come into the world only
to watch and govern its motion: and as to the
difference of brains, in quantity or quality, among
those who are directors in faction," the doctor as-
sured us, from his own knowledge, "that it was a
perfect trifle."
I heard a very warm debate between two pro-
fessors, about the most commodious and effectual
ways and means of raising money, without grieving
the subject. The first affirmed, "the justest method
would be, to lay a certain tax upon vices and folly;
and the sum fixed upon every man to be rated, after
the fairest manner, by a jury of his neighbours."
The second was of an opinion directly contrary;
"to tax those qualities of body and mind, for which
men chiefly value themselves; the rate to be more
or less, according to the degrees of excelling; the
decision whereof should be left entirely to their own
breast." The highest tax was upon men who are
the greatest favourites of the other sex, and the as-
sessments, according to the number and nature of
the favours they have received; for which they are
allowed to be their own vouchers. Wit, valour,
and politeness, were likewise proposed to be largely
taxed, and collected in the same manner, by every
person's giving his own word for the quantum of
what he possessed. But as to honour, justice, wis-
dom and learning they should not be taxed at all,
because they are qualifications of so singular a kind,
that no man will either allow them in his neighbour,
or value them in himself.
The women were proposed to be taxed according
to their beauty and skill in dressing, wherein they
had the same privilege with the men, to be deter-
mined by their own judgment. But constancy,
chastity, good sense, and good nature, were not rated,
because they would not bear the charge of collecting.
To keep senators in the interest of the crown, it
was proposed that the members should raffle for em-
ployments; every man first taking an oath, and giv-
ing security, that he would vote for the court, whether
he won or not; after which, the losers had, in their
turn, the liberty of raffling upon the next vacancy.
Thus, hope and expectation would be kept alive;
none would complain of broken promises, but im-
pute their disappointments wholly to fortune, whose
shoulders are broader and stronger than those of
a ministry.
Another professor showed me a large paper of in-
structions for discovering plots and conspiracies
against the government. He advised great statesmen
to examine into the diet of all suspected persons;
their times of eating; upon which side they lay in
bed; with which hand they wiped their posteriors;
take a strict view of their excrements, and from
the colour, the ordure, the taste, the consistence,
the crudeness, or maturity of digestion, form
a judgment of their thoughts and designs; be-
cause men are never so serious, thoughtful, and
intent, as when they are at stool, which he found by
experience; for, in such conjunctures, when he used,
merely as a trial, to consider which was the best way
of murdering the king, his ordure would have a
tincture of green; but quite different when he
thought only of raising an insurrection, or burning
the metropolis.
The whole discourse was written with great acute-
ness, containing many observations, both curious and
useful for politicians, but as I conceived not altogether
complete. This I ventured to tell the author, and
offered, if he pleased, to supply him with some addi-
tions. He received my proposition with more com-
pliance than is usual among writers, especially those
of the projecting species; professing "he would be
glad to receive further information."
I told him, "That in the kingdom of Tribnia,
[Britain] by the natives called Langdon, [London]
where I had sojourned some time in my travels, the
bulk of the people consist in a manner wholly of
discoverers, witnesses, informers, accusers, prosecu-
tors, evidences, swearers, together with their several
subservient and subaltern instruments, all under the
colours, the conduct, and the pay of ministers of
state, and their deputies.* The plots in that king-
dom are usually the workmanship of those persons
who desire to raise their own characters of profound
politicians; to restore new vigour to a crazy admi-
nistration; to stifle or divert general discontents; to
fill their coffers with forfeitures; and raise or sink
the opinion of public credit, as either shall best an-
swer their private advantage. It is first agreed and
* The passages which follow refer to the proceedings against
Atterbury, Bishop of Rochestor.-See State Trials in 1723.
E 2
52
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
settled among them, what suspected persons shall be
accused of a plot; then effectual care is taken to
secure all their letters and papers and put the owners
in chains. These papers are delivered to a set of
artists, very dexterous in finding out the mysterious
meanings of words, syllables, and letters; for in-
stance, they can discover a close-stool to signify a
privy-council; a flock of geese, a senate; a lame
dog, an invader; the plague, a standing army; a
buzzard, a prime minister; the gout, a high priest;
a gibbet, a secretary of state; a chamber-pot, a com-
mittee of grandees; a sieve, a court lady; a broom,
a revolution; a mouse-trap, an employment; a
bottomless-pit, a treasury; a sink, a court; a cap
and bells, a favourite; a broken reed, a court of
justice; an empty tun, a general; a running sore,
the administration.
"When this method fails, they have two others
more effectual, which the learned among them call
acrostics and anagrams. First, they can decipher
all initial letters into political meanings. Thus, N
shall signify a plot; B a regiment of horse; La fleet
at sea; or secondly, by transposing the letters of the
alphabet in any suspected paper, they can lay open
the deepest designs of a discontented party. So, for
example, if I should say, in a letter to a friend,
'Our brother Tom has just got the piles,' a skilful
decipherer would discover that the same letters
which compose that sentence, may be analysed into
the following words, Resist, a plot is brought
home, the tour.' And this is the anagrammatic
method.'"*
The professor made me great acknowledgments
for communicating these observations, and promised
to make honourable mention of me in his treatise.
I saw nothing in this country that could invite me
to a longer continuance, and began to think of re-
turning home to England.
CHAPTER VII.
The author leaves Lagado. Arrives at Maldonada. No ship
ready. He takes a short voyage to Glubbdubdrib. His re-
ception by the Governor.
THE continent, of which this kingdom is a part, ex-
tends itself, as I have reason to believe, eastward, to
that unknown tract of America westward of Califor-
nia; and north, to the Pacific Ocean, which is not
above a hundred and fifty miles from Lagado; where
there is a good port, and much commerce with the
great island of Luggnagg, situated to the north-west
about 29 degrees north latitude, and 140 longitude.
This island of Luggnagg stands south-eastward of Ja-
pan,
about a hundred leagues distant. There is a strict
alliance between the Japanese emperor and the king
of Luggnagg, which affords frequent opportunities
of sailing from one island to the other. I determined
therefore to direct my course this way, in order to
my return to Europe. I hired two mules, with a
guide, to show me the way, and carry my small bag-
gage. I took leave of my noble protector, who had
shown me so much favour, and made me a generous
present at my departure.
My journey was without any accident or adventure
worth relating. When I arrived at the port of Mal-
donada, (for so it is called,) there was no ship in the
harbour bound for Luggnagg, nor likely to be in
some time. The town is about as large as Ports-
mouth. I soon fell into some acquaintance, and was
very hospitably received. A gentleman of distinc-
tion said to me, "That since the ships bound to
Luggnagg could not be ready in less than a month,
* A burlesque on the report of the secret committee, who thus
apologised for the circumstantial evidence which they substituted
for proof.-See State Trials,
it might be no disagreeable amusement for me to
take a trip to the little island of Glubbdubdrib, about
five leagues off to the south-west." He offered
himself and a friend to accompany me, and that I
should be provided with a small convenient bark
for the voyage.
This
Glubbdubdrib, as nearly as I can interpret the
word, signifies the island of sorcerers or magicians.
It is about one third as large as the Isle of Wight,
and extremely fruitful: it is governed by the head
of a certain tribe, who are all magicians.
tribe marries only among each other, and the eldest
in succession is prince or governor. He has a noble
palace, and a park of about three thousand acres,
surrounded by a wall of hewn stone twenty feet high.
In this park are several small enclosures for cattle,
corn, and gardening.
The governor and his family are served and at-
tended by domestics of a kind somewhat unusual.
By his skill in necromancy, he has a power of calling
whom he pleases from the dead, and commanding
their service for twenty-four hours, but no longer;
nor can he call the same persons up again in less
than three months, except upon very extraordinary
occasions.
When we arrived at the island, which was about
eleven in the morning, one of the gentlemen who
accompanied me went to the governor, and desired
admittance for a stranger, who came on purpose
to have the honour of attending on his highness.
This was immediately granted, and we all three
entered the gate of the palace between two rows
of guards, armed and dressed after a very antic
manner, and something in their countenances that
made my flesh creep with a horror I cannot express.
We passed through several apartments, between
servants of the same sort, ranked on each side as
before, till we came to the chamber of presence;
where, after three profound obeisances, and a few
general questions, we were permitted to sit on three
stools, near the lowest step of his highness's throne.
He understood the language of Balnibarbi, although
it were different from that of this island. He de-
sired me to give him some account of my travels;
and, to let me see that I should be treated without
ceremony, he dismissed all his attendants with a
turn of his finger; at which, to my great astonish-
ment, they vanished in an instant, like visions in a
dream when we awake on a sudden. I could not
recover myself in some time, till the governor assured
me "That I should receive no hurt:" and observing
my two companions to be under no concern, who
had been often entertained in the same manner,
began to take courage, and related to his highness a
short history of my several adventures: yet not
without some hesitations, and frequently looking
behind me to the place where I had seen those
domestic spectres. I had the honour to dine with
the governor, where a new set of ghosts served up
the meat, and waited at table. I now observed my-
self to be less terrified than I had been in the morn-
ing. I stayed till sunset, but humbly desired his
highness to excuse me for not accepting his invitation
of lodging in the palace. My two friends and I lay
at a private house in the town adjoining, which is
the capital of this little island; and the next morn-
ing we returned to pay our duty to the governor, as
he was pleased to command us.
After this manner we continued in the island for
ten days, most part of every day with the governor,
and, at night in our lodging. I soon grew so
familiarised to the sight of spirits, that after the
third or fourth time they gave me no emotion at all;
or, if I had any apprehensions left, my curiosity pre-
A. VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
53
vailed over them. For his highness the governor
ordered me "to call up whatever persons I would
choose to name, and in whatever numbers, among
all the dead from the beginning of the world to the
present time, and command them to answer any
questions I should think fit to ask; with this con-
dition, that my questions must be confined within
the compass of the times they lived in. And one
thing I might depend upon, that they would certainly
tell me the truth, for lying was a talent of no use in
the lower world."
I made my humble acknowledgments to his high-
ness for so great a favour. We were in a chamber,
from whence there was a fair prospect into the park.
And because my first inclination was to be enter-
tained with scenes of pomp and magnificence, I
desired to see Alexander the Great at the head of
his army, just after the battle of Arbela; which,
upon a motion of the governor's finger, immediately
appeared in a large field, under the window where
we stood. Alexander was called up into the room;
into the room;
it was with great difficulty that I understood his
Greek, and had but little of my own. He assured
me upon his honour "That he was not poisoned,
but died of a bad fever by excessive drinking.
Next, I saw Hannibal passing the Alps, who told
me, "He had not a drop of vinegar in his camp.'
¦
day on purpose. I proposed that Homer and Aris-
totle might appear at the head of all their commen-
tators; but these were so numerous, that some hun-
dreds were forced to attend in the court, and out-
ward rooms of the palace. I knew, and could dis-
tinguish those two heroes, at first sight, not only
from the crowd, but from each other. Homer was
the taller and comelier person of the two, walked
very erect for one of his age, and his eyes were the
most quick and piercing I ever beheld. Aristotle
stooped much, and made use of a staff. His visage
was meagre, his hair lank and thin, and his voice
hollow.* I soon discovered that both of them were
perfect strangers to the rest of the company, and
had never seen or heard of them before. And I had
a whisper from a ghost, who shall be nameless,
"That these commentators always kept in the most
distant quarters from their principals, in the lower
world, through a consciousness of shame and guilt,
because they had so horribly misrepresented the
meaning
meaning of those authors to posterity." I intro-
duced Didymus and Eustathius to Homer, and pre-
vailed on him to treat them better than perhaps they
deserved, for he soon found they wanted a genius
to enter into the spirit of a poet. But Aristotle was
out of all patience with the account I gave him of
Scotus and Ramus, as I presented them to him; and
he asked them, "Whether the rest of the tribe were
as great dunces as themselves?"
I then desired the governor to call up Descartes
and Gassendi, with whom I prevailed to explain
their systems to Aristotle. This great philosopher
freely acknowledged his own mistakes in natural
I saw Cæsar and Pompey at the head of their
troops, just ready to engage. I saw the former in
his last great triumph. I desired that the senate of
Rome might appear before me in one large chamber,
and a modern representative in counterview, in ano-
ther. The first seemed to be an assembly of heroes
and demi-gods; the other a knot of pedlars, pick-philosophy, because he proceeded in many things
pockets, highwaymen, and bullies.
The governor, at my request, gave the sign for
Cæsar and Brutus to advance towards us. I was
struck with a profound veneration at the sight of
Brutus, and could easily discover the most con-
summate virtue, the greatest intrepidity and firmness
of mind, the truest love of his country, and general
benevolence for mankind, in every lineament of his
countenance. I observed with much pleasure, that
these two persons were in good intelligence with
each other; and Cæsar freely confessed to me,
"That the greatest actions of his own life were not
equal, by many degrees, to the glory of taking it
away." I had the honour to have much conversa-
tion with Brutus; and was told, "that his ancestor
Junius, Socrates, Epaminondas, Cato the younger,
Sir Thomas More, and himself, were perpetually
together" a sextumvirate, to which all the ages of
the world cannot add a seventh.
It would be tedious to trouble the reader with re-
lating what vast numbers of illustrious persons were
called up, to gratify that insatiable desire I had to
see the world in every period of antiquity placed be-
fore me. I chiefly fed mine eyes with beholding the
destroyers of tyrants and usurpers, and the restorers
of liberty to oppressed and injured nations. But it
is impossible to express the satisfaction I received in
my own mind, after such a manner, as to make it a
suitable entertainment to the reader.
CHAPTER VIII.
A further account of Glubbdubdrib. Ancient and modern
history corrected.
HAVING a desire to see those ancients who were
most renowned for wit and learning, I set apart one
*Livy relates that Hannibal burnt a pile or wood upon a
rock that stopped his passage, and, when it was thus heated,
poured vinegar upon it, by which it was made so soft as to be
easily cut through.
upon conjecture, as all men must do; and he found,
that Gassendi, who had made the doctrine of Epi-
curus as palatable as he could, and the vortices of
Descartes were equally to be exploded.
He pre-
dicted the same fate to attraction, whereof the pre-
sent learned are such zealous asserters.
He said,
"That new systems of nature were but new fashions,
which would vary in every age; and even those who
pretend to demonstrate them from mathematical
principles would flourish but a short period of time,
and be out of vogue when that was determined.”
I spent five days in conversing with many others
of the ancient learned. I saw most of the first Ro-
man emperors. I prevailed on the governor to call
up Eliogabalus's cooks to dress us a dinner, but they
could not show us much of their skill, for want of
materials. A helot of Agesilaus made us a dish of
Spartan broth, but I was not able to get down a
second spoonful.
The two gentlemen, who conducted me to the
island, were pressed by their private affairs to return
in three days, which I employed in seeing some of
the modern dead, who had made the greatest figure,
for two or three hundred years past, in our own and
other countries of Europe; and having been always
a great admirer of old illustrious families, I desired
the governor would call up a dozen or two of kings,
with their ancestors in order, for eight or nine gene-
rations. But my disappointment was grievous and
unexpected; for, instead of a long train, with royal
diadems, I saw in one family two fiddlers, three
spruce courtiers, and an Italian prelate. In another,
a barber, an abbot, and two cardinals. I have too
great a veneration for crowned heads to dwell any
longer on so nice a subject. But, as to counts, mar-
*The description of Aristotle represents the true nature of
his works. By not having the immortal spirit of Homer, he
was unable to keep his body erect; and his staff, which feebly
supported him, like his commentators, made this defect more
conspicuous.
54
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
quises, dukes, earls, and the like, I was not so scru-
pulous. And I confess, it was not without some
pleasure that I found myself able to trace the parti-
cular features, by which certain families are distin-
guished, up to their originals. I could plainly dis-
cover whence one family derives a long chin; why
a second has abounded with knaves for two genera-
tions, and fools for two more; why a third happened
to be cracked-brained, and a fourth to be sharpers;
whence it came, what Polydore Virgil says of a cer-
tain great house, Nec vir fortis, nec fœmina casta ;
how cruelty, falsehood, and cowardice, grew to be
characteristics, by which certain families are distin-
guished as much as by their coat of arms; who first
brought the pox into a noble house, which has line-
ally descended in scrofulous tumours to their poste-
rity. Neither could I wonder at all this, when I
saw such an interruption of lineages, by pages,
lackeys, valets, coachmen, gamesters, fiddlers, players,
captains and pickpockets.
I was chiefly disgusted with modern history; for
having strictly examined all the persons of greatest
name in the courts of princes, for an hundred years
past, I found how the world had been misled by
prostitute writers, to ascribe the greatest exploits in
war, to cowards; the wisest counsel, to fools; sin-
cerity, to flatterers; Roman virtue, to betrayers of
their country; piety to atheists; chastity to sodom-
ites; truth to informers: how many innocent and
excellent persons had been condemned to death or
banishment, by the practising of great ministers upon
the corruption of judges, and the malice of factions;
how many villains had been exalted to the highest
places of trust, power, dignity, and profit; how
great a share in the motions and events of courts,
counsels, and senates, might be challenged by bawds,
whores, pimps, parasites, and buffoons. How low
an opinion I had of human wisdom and integrity,
when I was truly informed of the springs and mo-
tives of great enterprises and revolutions in the
world, and of the contemptible accidents to which
they owed their success!
Here I discovered the roguery and ignorance of
those who pretend to write anecdotes or secret his-
tory; who send so many kings to their graves with
a cup of poison; will repeat the discourse between
a prince and chief minister, where no witness was
by; unlock the thoughts and cabinets of ambassa-
dors and secretaries of state; and have the perpe-
tual misfortune to be mistaken. Here I discovered
the true cause of many great events that have sur-
prised the world; how a whore can govern the back-
stairs, the back-stairs a council, and the council a
senate. A general confessed in my presence, "That
he got a victory purely by the force of cowardice and
ill-conduct;" and an admiral, "That, for want of
proper intelligence he beat the enemy, to whom he
intended to betray the fleet.”* Three kings pro-
tested to me, "That in their whole reigns they never
did once prefer any person of merit, unless by mis-
take, or treachery of some minister in whom they
confided; neither would they do it if they were
to live again;" and they showed, with great strength
of reason, "That the royal throne could not be sup-
ported without corruption, because that positive,
confident, restive temper, which virtue infused into
a man, was a perpetual clog to public business."
I had the curiosity to inquire, in a particular man-
ner, by what method great numbers had procured to
themselves high titles of honour, and prodigious
estates; and I confined my inquiry to a very modern
*Perhaps the Admiral Lord Russell.
†The monarchs are Charles II., James II., and William III.
|
period; however, without grating upon present times,
because I would be sure to give no offence even to
foreigners, for I hope the reader need not to be told,
that I do not in the least intend my own country,
in what I say upon this occasion. A great number
of persons concerned were called up; and, upon
a very slight examination, discovered such a scene
of infamy, that I cannot reflect upon it without some
seriousness. Perjury, oppression, subornation, fraud,
panderism, and the like infirmities, were among the
most excusable arts they had to mention; and for
these I gave, as it was reasonable, great allowance
But when some confessed they owed their greatness
to sodomy, or incest; others, to the prostituting of
their wives and daughters; others, to the betraying
of their country or their prince; some, to poisoning;
more, to the perverting of justice, in order to destroy
the innocent; I hope I may be pardoned, if these
discoveries inclined me a little to abate of that pro-
found veneration, which I am naturally apt to pay to
persons of high rank, who ought to be treated with
the utmost respect due to their sublime dignity, by
us their inferiors.
I had often read of some great services done to
princes and states, and desired to see the persons by
whom those services were performed. Upon inquiry,
I was told, "That their names were to be found on
no record, except a few of them, whom history has
represented as the vilest of rogues and traitors." As
to the rest, I had never once heard of them. They
all appeared with dejected looks, and in the meanest
habit most of them telling me, "They died in
poverty and disgrace, and the rest on a scaffold or a
gibbet."
Among others, there was one person, whose case
appeared a little singular. He had a youth about
eighteen years old standing by his side. He told
me, "He had for many years been commander of a
ship; and in the sea-fight at Actium had the good
fortune to break through the enemy's great line of
battle, sink three of their capital ships, and take a
fourth, which was the sole cause of Antony's flight,
and of the victory that ensued; that the youth stand-
ing by him, his only son, was killed in the action.
He added, "That upon the confidence of some merit,
the war being at an end, he went to Rome, and
solicited at the court of Augustus to be preferred to
a greater ship, whose commander had been killed;
but, without any regard to his pretensions, it was
given to a boy who had never seen the sea, the son
of Libertina, who waited on one of the emperor's
mistresses. Returning back to his own vessel, he
was charged with neglect of duty, and the ship given
to a favourite page of Publicola, the vice-admiral;
whereupon he retired to a poor farm at a great dis-
tance from Rome, and there ended his life.”
so curious to know the truth of this story, that I
desired Agrippa might be called, who was admiral
in that fight. He appeared, and confirmed the whole
account: but with much more advantage to the
captain, whose modesty had extenuated or concealed
a great part of his merit.
I was
I was surprised to find corruption grown so high
and so quick in that empire, by the force of luxury
so lately introduced, which made me less wonder at
many parallel cases in other countries, where vices of
all kinds have reigned so much longer, and where
the whole praise as well as pillage, has been en-
grossed by the chief commander, who, perhaps, had
the least title to either.
As every person called up made exactly the same
appearance he had done in the world, it gave me
melancholy reflections to observe how much the
A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
55
race of humankind was degenerated among us,
within these hundred years past. How the pox,
under all its consequences and denominations, had
altered every lineament of an English countenance,
shortened the size of the bodies, unbraced the nerves,
relaxed the sinews and muscles, introduced a sallow
complexion, and rendered the flesh loose and
rancid.
I descended so low as to desire some English
yeomen of the old stamp might be summoned to
appear, once so famous for the simplicity of their
manners, diet, and dress; for justice in their deal-
ings; for their true spirit of liberty; for their valour,
and love of their country. Neither could I be wholly
unmoved after comparing the living with the dead,
when I considered how all these pure native virtues
were prostituted for a piece of money by their grand-
children, who, in selling their votes, and managing
at elections, have acquired every vice and corruption
that can possibly be learned in a court.
CHAPTER IX.
The author returns to Maldonada. Sails to the kingdom of
Luggnagg. The author confined. He is sent for to court.
The manner of his admittance. The king's great lenity to
his subjects.
THE day of our departure being come, I took leave
of his highness, the Governor of Glubbdubdrid, and
returned with my two companions to Maldonada,
where, after a fortnight's waiting, a ship was ready
to sail for Luggnagg. The two gentlemen, and some
others, were so generous and kind as to furnish me
with provisions, and see me on board. I was a
month in this voyage. We had one violent storm,
and were under a necessity of steering westward, to
get into the trade-wind, which holds for above sixty
leagues. On the 21st of April, 1708, we sailed into
the river of Clumegnig, which is a sea-port town at
the south-east point of Luggnagg. We cast anchor
within a league of the town, and made a signal for a
pilot. Two of them came on board in less than half
an hour, by whom we were guided between certain
shoals and rocks, which are very dangerous in the
passage, to a large basin, where a fleet may ride in
safety within a cable's length of the town-wall.
Some of our sailors, whether out of treachery or
inadvertence, had informed the pilots, "That I was
a stranger and a great traveller; whereof these gave
notice to a custom-house officer, by whom I was
examined very strictly upon my landing. This
officer spoke to me in the language of Balnibarbi,
which, by the force of much commerce, is generally
understood in that town, especially by seamen and
those employed in the customs. I gave him a short
account of some particulars, and made my story as
plausible and consistent as I could; but I thought it
necessary to disguise my country, and call myself a
Hollander, because my intentions were for Japan,
and I knew the Dutch were the only Europeans per-
mitted to enter into that kingdom. I therefore told
the officer, "That having been shipwrecked on the
coast of Balnibarbi and cast on a rock, I was received
up into Laputa, or the Flying Island, (of which he
had often heard,) and was now endeavouring to
get to Japan, whence I might find a convenience of
returning to my own country." The officer said, I
must be confined till he could receive orders from
court, for which he would write immediately, and
hoped to receive an answer in a fortnight." I was
carried to a convenient lodging, with a sentry placed
at the door; however, I had the liberty of a large
garden, and was treated with humanity enough,
being maintained all the time at the king's charge.
|
I was invited by several persons, chiefly out of curi-
osity, because it was reported that I came from
countries very remote, of which they had never
heard.
I hired a young man, who came in the same ship,
to be an interpreter; he was a native of Luggnagg,
but had lived some years at Maldonada, and was a
perfect master of both languages. By his assist-
ance, I was able to hold a conversation with those
who came to visit me ; but this consisted only of their
questions, and my answers.
The dispatch came from court about the time we
expected. It contained a warrant for conducting
me and my retinue to Traldragdubh or Trildrogdrib,
for it is pronounced both ways, as near as I can re-
member, by a party of ten horse. All my retinue
was that poor lad for an interpreter, whom I per-
suaded into my service, and at my humble request
we had each of us a mule to ride on. A messenger
was dispatched half a day's journey before us, to give
the king notice of my approach, and to desire "That
his majesty would please to appoint a day and hour,
when it would be his gracious pleasure that I might
have the honour to lick the dust before his foot-
stool." This is the court style, and I found it to be
more than matter of form. For, upon my admittance,
two days after my arrival, I was commanded to
crawl upon my belly, and lick the floor as I advan-
ced; but on account of my being a stranger care was
taken to have it made so clean that the dust was not
offensive. However this was a peculiar grace not
allowed to any but persons of the highest rank, when
they desire an admittance. Nay, sometimes the
floor is strewed with dust on purpose, when the
person to be admitted happens to have powerful
enemies at court. And I have seen a great lord
with his mouth so crammed, that when he had crept
to the proper distance from the throne, he was not
able to speak a word. Neither is there any remedy,
because it is capital for those who receive an au-
dience to spit or wipe their mouths in his majesty's
presence.-There is indeed another custom which I
cannot altogether approve of; when the king has a
mind to put any of his nobles to death in a gentle,
indulgent manner, he commands the floor to be
strewed with a certain brown powder of a deadly
composition, which, being licked up, infallibly kills
him in twenty-four hours. But in justice to this
prince's great clemency, and the care he has of his
subjects' lives, (wherein it were much to be wished
that the monarchs of Europe would imitate him,)
it must be mentioned for his honour, that strict
orders are given to have the infected parts of the floor
well washed after every such execution; which, if
his domestics neglect, they are in danger of incur-
ring his royal displeasure. I myself heard him give
directions that one of his pages should be whipped,
whose turn it was to give notice about washing the
floor after an execution, but maliciously had omitted
it; by which neglect, a young lord of great hopes
coming to an audience, was unfortunately poisoned,
although the king at that time had no design against
his life. But this good prince was so gracious
as to forgive the poor page his whipping, upon
promise that he would do so no more, without
special orders.
To return from this digression; when I had crept
within four yards of the throne, I raised myself
gently upon my knees, and then striking my fore-
head seven times against the ground, I pronounced
the following words, as they had been taught me the
night before, Inckpling gloffthrobb squut scrumm
blhiop mlashnalt zwin tnodbalkuffhslhiophad gurd-
lubh asht. This is the compliment, established by
56
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
the laws of the land, for all persons admitted to the
king's presence. It may be rendered into English
thus: "May your celestial majesty outlive the sun
cleven moons and a half!" To this the king re-
turned some answer, which, although I could not
understand, yet I replied as I had been directed :
Flute drin yalerick dwuldom prastrad mirpush,
prastrad_mirpush,
which properly signifies "My tongue is in the mouth
of my friend ;" and, by this expression was meant,
iny
that I desired leave to bring my interpreter; where-
upon the young man already mentioned was accord-
ingly introduced, by whose intervention I answered
as many questions as his majesty could put in
above an hour. I spoke in the Balnibarbian tongue,
and my interpreter delivered my meaning in that of
Luggnagg.
The king was much delighted with my company, and
ordered his bliffmarklub, or high chamberlain, to ap-
point a lodging in the court for me and my inter-
preter, with a daily allowance for my table, and a
large purse of gold for my common expenses.
I stayed three months in this country, out of per-
fect obedience to his majesty, who was pleased highly
to favour me, and made me very honourable offers.
But I thought it more consistent with prudence and
justice to pass the remainder of my days with my
wife and family.
CHAPTER X.
The Luggnaggians commended. A particular description of
the Struldbrugs, with many conversations between the
author and some eminent persons upon that subject.
THE Luggnaggians are a polite and generous people;
and, although they are not without some share of
that pride which is peculiar to all eastern countries,
yet they shew themselves courteous to strangers, es-
pecially such who are countenanced by the court. I
had many acquaintance, and among persons of the
best fashion, and being always attended by my in-
terpreter, the conversation we had was not disa-
greeable.
One day, in much good company, I was asked by
a person of quality, "Whether
"Whether I had seen any
had seen any of
their struldbrugs, or immortals?" I said, "I had
not ;" and desired he would explain to me,
"What
he meant by such an appellation, applied to a mortal
creature.' He told me,
"That sometimes, though
very rarely, a child happened to be born in a family
with a red circular spot in the forehead, directly over
the left eyebrow, which was an infallible mark that
it should never die. The spot," as he described it,
"was about the compass of a silver threepence, but
in the course of time grew larger, and changed its
colour; for at twelve years old it became green, so
continued till five-and-twenty, and then turning to
a deep blue at five-and-forty it grew coal-black,
and as large as an English shilling, but never ad-
mitted any further alteration." He said, "These
births were so rare, that he did not believe that there
could be above eleven hundred struldbrugs, of both
sexes, in the whole kingdom, of which he computed
above fifty in the metropolis, and, among the rest, a
young girl born about three years ago; that these
productions were not peculiar to any family, but a
mere effect of chance, and the children of the struld-
brugs themselves were equally mortal with the rest
of the people."
I freely own myself to have been struck with in-
expressible delight upon hearing this account: and
the person who gave it me happening to understand
the Balnibarbian language, which I spoke very
well, I could not forbear breaking out into expres-
sions perhaps a little too extravagant. I cried out,
as in a rapture, "Happy nation, where every child
has a chance for being immortal! Happy people,
who enjoy so many living examples of ancient virtue,
and have masters ready to instruct them in the wisdom
of all former ages! but happiest, beyond all compa-
rison, are those excellent struldbrugs, who, being born
exempt from that universal calamity of human nature,
have their minds free and disengaged, without the
weight and depression of spirits caused by the con-
tinual apprehension of death !" I discovered my
admiration," that I had not observed any of these
illustrious persons at court! the black spot on the
forehead being so remarkable a distinction, that I
could not have easily overlooked it; and it was im-
possible that his majesty, a most judicious prince,
should not provide himself with a good number of
such wise and able counsellors. Yet perhaps the
virtue of those reverend sages was too strict for the
corrupt and libertine manners of a court. And we
often find by experience, that young men are too
opinionated and volatile to be guided by the sober
dictates of their seniors. However, since the king
was pleased to allow me access to his royal person,
I was resolved, upon the very first occasion, to de-
liver my opinion to him on this matter freely and at
large, by the help of my interpreter; and whether
he would please to take my advice or not, yet in one
thing I was determined, that his majesty having fre-
quently offered me an establishment in this country
I would, with great thankfulness, accept the favour,
and pass my life here in the conversation of those
superior beings, the struldbrugs, if they would please
to admit me. ""
The gentleman to whom I addressed my dis-
course, because (as I have already observed) he
spoke the language of Balnibarbi, said to me,
with a sort of smile, which usually arises from
pity to the ignorant, "That he was glad of any
occasion to keep me among them, and desired
my permission to explain to the company what
I had spoke." He did so, and they talked together
for some time in their own language, whereof I un-
derstood not a syllable, neither could I observe by
their countenances what impression my discourse
had made on them. After a short silence, the same
person told me, "That his friends and mine (so he
thought fit to express himself) were very much.
pleased with the judicious remarks I had made on
the great happiness and advantages of immortal life,
and they were desirous to know, in a particular
manner, what scheme of living I should have formed
to myself, if it had fallen to my lot to have been
born a struldbrug."
I answered, "It was easy to be eloquent on so
copious and delightful a subject, especially to me,
who had been often apt to amuse myself, with visions
of what I should do if I were a king, a general, or
a great lord and upon this very case I had fre-
quently run over the whole system how I should
employ myself, and pass the time if I were sure to
live for ever.
"That if it had been my good fortune to come
into the world a struldbrug, as soon as I could dis-
cover my own happiness, by understanding the dif-
ference between life and death, I would first resolve,
by all arts and methods whatsoever to procure my-
self riches. In the pursuit of which, by thrift and
management, I might reasonably expect in about two
hundred years to be the wealthiest man in the
kingdom. In the second place I would from my
earliest youth apply myself to the study of arts and
sciences, by which I should arrive in time to excel
all others in learning. Lastly, I would carefully
record every action and event of consequence, that
A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
57
happened in the public, impartially draw the cha-
racters of the several successions of princes and
great ministers of state, with my own observations.
on every point. I would exactly set down the several
changes in customs, language, fashions of dress, diet,
and diversions. By all which acquirements, I should
be a living treasure of knowledge and wisdom, and
certainly become the oracle of the nation.
ter to me, that I received it as a thing wholly new,
and scarcely to be credited. That in the two king-
doms above mentioned, where during his residence
he had conversed very much, he observed long life
to be the universal desire and wish of mankind.
That whoever had one foot in the grave was sure
to hold back the other as strongly as he could. That
the oldest had still hopes of living one day longer,
and looked on death as the greatest evil, from which
nature always prompted him to retreat. Only in this
island of Luggnagg the appetite for living was not
so eager, from the continual example of the struld-
brugs before their eyes.
"I would never marry after threescore, but live
in a hospitable manner, yet still on the saving side.
I would entertain myself in forming and directing
the minds of hopeful young men, by convincing
them from my own remembrance, experience and
observation, fortified by numerous examples, of the "That the system of living contrived by me was
usefulness of virtue in public and private life. But unreasonable and unjust, because it supposed a per-
my choice and constant companions should be a set petuity of youth, health, and vigour, which no man
of my own immortal brotherhood; among whom I could be so foolish to hope, however extravagant he
would elect a dozen from the most ancient, down to may be in his wishes. That the question therefore
my own contemporaries. Where any of these was not, whether a man would choose to be always
wanted fortunes, I would provide them with con- in the prime of youth attended with prosperity and
venient lodges round my own estate, and have some
health; but how he would pass a perpetual life,
of them always at my table; only mingling a few of under all the usual disadvantages which old age
the most valuable among you mortals whom length | brings along with it. For although few men will
of time would harden me to lose with little or no avow their desires of being immortal, upon such
reluctance, and treat your posterity after the same hard conditions, yet in the two kingdoms before men-
manner; just as a man diverts himself with the tioned, of Balnibarbi and Japan, he observed that
annual succession of pinks and tulips in his garden, every man desired to put off death some time longer,
without regretting the loss of those which withered let it approach ever so late; and he rarely heard of
the preceding year.
any man who died willingly, except he were incited
by the extremity of grief or torture.
And he ap-
pealed to me, whether in those countries I had tra-
velled, as well as my own, I had not observed the
same general disposition."
"These struldbrugs and I would mutually com-
municate our observations and memorials, through
the course of time; remark the several gradations
by which corruption steals into the world, and op-
pose it in every step, by giving perpetual warning
and instruction to mankind; which, added to the
strong influence of our own example, would probably
prevent that continual degeneracy of human nature,
so justly complained of in all ages.
"Add to all this the pleasure of seeing the various
revolutions of states and empires; the changes in
the lower and upper world; ancient cities in ruins,
and obscure villages become the seats of kings:
famous rivers lessening into shallow brooks; the
ocean leaving one coast dry and overwhelming ano-
ther; the discovery of many countries yet unknown;
barbarity overrunning the politest nations, and the
most barbarous become civilised. I should then see
the discovery of the longitude, the perpetual motion,
the universal medicine, and many other great inven-
tions, brought to the utmost perfection.
"What wonderful discoveries should we make in
astronomy, by outliving and confirming our own
predictions; by observing the progress and returns
of comets, with the changes of motion in the sun,
moon, and stars!"
I enlarged upon many other topics, which the
natural desire of endless life, and sublunary happi-
ness could easily furnish me with. When I had
ended, and the sum of my discourse had been inter-
preted, as before to the rest of the company, there was
great deal of talk among them in the language of the
country, not without some laughter at my expense,
At last the same gentleman who had been my inter-
preter said, "He was desired by the rest to set me
right in a few mistakes which I had fallen into
through the common imbecility of human nature,
and upon that allowance was less answerable for
them. That this breed of struldbrugs was peculiar
to their country, for there were no such people either
in Balnibarbi or Japan, where he had the honour to be
ambassador from his majesty, and found the natives
in both those kingdoms very hard to believe that
the fact was possible: and it appeared from my
astonishment when he had first mentioned the mat-
After this preface, he gave me a particular account
of the struldbrugs among them. He said, " They
commonly acted like mortals, till about thirty years.
old, after which by degrees they grew melancholy
and dejected, increasing in both till they came to
fourscore. This he learned from their own confes-
sion: for otherwise, there not being above two or
three of that species born in an age, they were too
few to form a general observation by. When they
came to fourscore years, which is reckoned the ex-
tremity of living in this country, they had not only
all the follies and infirmities of other old men, but
many more, which arose from the dreadful prospect
of never dying. They were not only opinionative,
peevish, covetous, morose, vain, talkative, but inca-
pable of friendship, and dead to all natural affection,
which never descended below their grand-children.
Envy and impotent desires are their prevailing pas-
sions. But those objects against which their envy
seems principally directed are the vices of the
younger sort, and the deaths of the old. By reflect-
ing on the former, they find themselves cut off from
all possibility of pleasure: and whenever they see a
funeral, they lament and repine that others are gone
to a harbour of rest to which they themselves never
can hope to arrive. They have no remembrance of
anything, but what they learned and observed in
their youth and middle age, and even that is very
imperfect. And for the truth or particulars of any
fact, it is safer to depend on common tradition, than
upon their best recollections. The least miserable.
among them appear to be those who turn to dotage
and entirely lose their memories; these meet with
more pity and assistance because they want many
bad qualities which abound in others.
"If a struldbrug happen to marry one of his own
kind, the marriage is dissolved of course, by the
courtesy of the kingdom, as soon as the younger of
the two comes to be fourscore. For the law thinks
it a reasonable indulgence that those who are con-
demned, without any fault of their own, to a per-
58
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
petual continuance in the world should not have
their misery doubled by the load of a wife.
"As soon as they have completed the term of
eighty years they are looked on as dead in law;
their heirs immediately succeed to their estates, only
a small pittance is reserved for their support; and
the poor ones are maintained at the public charge.
After that period they are held incapable of any em-
ployment of trust or profit; they cannot purchase
lands, or take leases; neither are they allowed to be
witnesses in any cause either civil or criminal, not
even for the decision of meers and bounds.
"At ninety they lose their teeth and hair; they
have at that age no distinction of taste, but eat and
drink whatever they can get, without relish or ap-
petite. The diseases they were subject to still con-
tinue, without increasing or diminishing. In talking
they forget the common appellation of things, and
the names of persons, even of those who are their
nearest friends and relations. For the same reason
they never can amuse themselves with reading, be-
cause their memory will not serve to carry them
from the beginning of a sentence to the end; and by
this defect, they are deprived of the only entertain-
ment whereof they might otherwise be capable.
"The language of this country being always upon
the flux, the struldbrugs of one age do not under-
stand those of another; neither are they able, after
two hundred years, to hold any conversation (further
than by a few general words) with their neighbours
the mortals; and thus they lie under the disadvan-
tage of living like foreigners in their own country."
This was the account given me of the struldbrugs,
as near as I can remember. I afterwards saw five
or six of different ages, the youngest not above two
hundred years old, who were brought to me at seve-
ral times by some of my friends; but although they
were told "That I was a great traveller, and had
scen all the world," they had not the least curiosity
to ask me a question; only desired "I would give
them slumskudask, or a token of remembrance ;"
which is a modest way of begging, to avoid the law,
that strictly forbids it, because they are provided for
by the public, although indeed with a scanty allow-
ance.
They are despised and hated by all sorts of people.
When one of them is born, it is reckoned ominous,
and their birth is recorded very particularly: so that
you may know their age by consulting the register,
which however has not been kept above a thousand
years past, or at least has been destroyed by time or
public disturbances. But the usual way of comput-
ing how old they are is by asking them what kings
or great persons they can remember, and then con-
sulting history; for infallibly the last prince in their
mind did not begin his reign after they were four-
score years old.
They were the most mortifying sight I ever be-
held ; and the women more horrible than the men.
Besides the usual deformities in extreme old age,
they acquired an additional ghastliness, in propor-
tion to their number of years, which is not to be
described; and among half a dozen, I soon distin-
guished which was the eldest, although there was
not above a century or two between them.
The reader will easily believe, that from what I had
heard and seen, my keen appetite for perpetuity of
life was much abated. I grew heartily ashamed of
the pleasing visions I had formed, and thought no
tyrant could invent a death into which I would not
run with pleasure from such a life. The king heard
of all that had passed between me and my friends
upon this occasion, and rallied me very pleasantly;
wishing I could send a couple of struldbrugs to my
own country, to arm our people against the fear o
death; but this it seems is forbidden by the funda-
mental laws of the kingdom, or else I should have
been well content with the trouble and expense of
transporting them.
I could not but agree, that the laws of this king-
dom relative to the struldbrugs, were founded upon
the strongest reasons, and such as any other country
would be under the necessity of enacting, in the
like circumstances. Otherwise, as avarice is the
necessary consequent of old age, those immortals
would in time become proprietors of the whole
nation, and engross the civil power, which, for want
of abilities to manage, must end in the ruin of the
public.
CHAPTER XI.
From
The author leaves Luggnagg, and sails to Japan.
thence he returns in a Dutch ship to Amsterdam, and from
Amsterdam to England.
I THOUGHT this account of the struldbrugs might
be some entertainment to the reader, because it
seems to be a little out of the common way; at least
I do not remember to have met the like in any book
of travels that has come to my hands; and if I am
deceived, my excuse must be, that it is necessary for
travellers, who describe the same country, very often
to agree in dwelling on the same particulars, with-
out deserving the censure of having borrowed or
transcribed from those who wrote before them.
There is indeed a perpetual commerce between
this kingdom and the great empire of Japan; and it
is very probable that the Japanese authors may have
given some account of the struldbrugs; but my stay
in Japan was so short, and I was so entirely a
stranger to the language, that I was not qualified to
make any inquiries. But I hope the Dutch upon
this notice will be curious and able enough to supply
my defects.
|
His majesty having often pressed me to accept
some employment in his court, and finding me ab-
solutely determined to return to my native country,
was pleased to give me his licence to depart, and
honoured me with a letter of recommendation, under
his own hand, to the Emperor of Japan. He like-
wise presented me with four hundred and forty-four
large pieces of gold, (this nation delighted in even
numbers,) and a red diamond, which I sold in Eng-
land for eleven hundred pounds.
On the 6th of May, 1709, I took a solemn leave
of his majesty and all my friends. This prince was
so gracious as to order a guard to conduct me to
Glanguenstald, which is a royal port to the south-
west part of the island. In six days I found a ves-
sel ready to carry me to Japan, and spent fifteen
days in the voyage. We landed at a small port-town
called Xamoschi, situated on the south-east part of
Japan; the town lies on the western point, where
there is a narrow strait leading northward into a long
arm of the sea, upon the north-west part of which
Yedo the metropolis stands. At landing, I showed
the custom-house officers my letter from the King
of Luggnagg to his imperial majesty. They knew
the seal perfectly well; it was as broad as the palm
of my hand. The impression was, "A king lifting
up a lame beggar from the earth." The magis-
trates of the town, hearing of
trates of the town, hearing of my letter, received me
as a public minister; they provided me with car-
riages and servants, and bore my charges to Yedo;
where I was admitted to an audience, and delivered
my letter, which was opened with great ceremony,
and explained to the emperor by an interpreter;
who then gave me notice, by his majesty's order,
"That I should signify my request, and whatever it
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
59
were it should be granted, for the sake of his royal
brother of Luggnagg." This interpreter was a per-
son employed to transact affairs with the Hollanders:
he soon conjectured, by my countenance, that I was
an European, and therefore repeated his majesty's
commands in low Dutch, which he spoke perfectly
well. I answered, as I had before determined,
"That I was a Dutch merchant, shipwrecked in a
very remote country, whence I had travelled by sea
and land to Luggnagg, and then took shipping for
Japan; where I knew my countrymen often traded,
and with some of these I hoped to get an oppor-
tunity of returning into Europe: I therefore most
humbly entreated his royal favour, to give order
that I should be conducted in safety to Nangasac."
To this I added another petition, "That for the
sake of my patron the king of Luggnagg, his ma-
jesty would condescend to excuse my performing
the ceremony imposed on my countrymen, of tramp-
ling on the crucifix; because I had been thrown into
his kingdom by my misfortunes, without any in-
tention of trading." When this latter petition was
interpreted to the emperor he seemed a little sur-
prised, and said, "He believed I was the first of my
countrymen who ever made any scruple in this
point; and that he began to doubt whether I was a
real Hollander or not; but rather suspected I must
be a christian. However, for the reasons I had
offered, but chiefly to gratify the king of Luggnagg,
by an uncommon mark of his favour, he would
comply with the singularity of my humour; but the
affair must be managed with dexterity, and his
officers should be commanded to let me pass, as it
were by forgetfulness. For he assured me, that if
the secret should be discovered by my countrymen
the Dutch, they would cut my throat in the voyage."
I returned my thanks, by the interpreter, for so
unusual a favour; and some troops being at that
time on their march to Nangasac, the commanding
officer had orders to convey me safe thither, with
particular instructions about the business of the
crucifix.
On the 9th day June, 1709, I arrived at Nanga-
|
sac, after a very long and troublesome journey. I
soon fell into the company of some Dutch sailors be-
longing to the Amboyna of Amsterdam, a stout ship
of 450 tons. I had lived long in Holland, pursuing
my studies at Leyden, and I spoke Dutch well. The
seamen soon knew whence I came last; they were
curious to inquire into my voyages and course of
life. I made up a story as short and probable as I
could, but concealed the greatest part. I knew
many persons in Holland; I was able to invent
names for my parents, whom I pretended to be ob-
I
scure people in the province of Gelderland.
would have given the captain (one Theodorus Van-
grult) what he pleased to ask for my voyage to Hol-
land; but understanding I was a surgeon, he was
contented to take half the usual rate, on condition
that I would serve him in the way of my calling.
Before we took shipping I was often asked by some
of the crew "Whether I had performed the cere-
mony above mentioned ?” I evaded the question by
general answers; "That I had satisfied the emperor
and court in all particulars." However, a malicious
rogue of a skipper went to an officer, and, pointing
to me, told him "I had not yet trampled on the
crucifix;" but the other, who had received instruc-
tions to let me pass, gave the rascal twenty strokes
on the shoulders with a bamboo; after which I was
no more troubled with such questions.
water.
Nothing happened worth mentioning in this
voyage.
We sailed with a fair wind to the Cape of
Good Hope, where we stayed only to take in fresh
On the 10th of April, 1710, we arrived safe
at Amsterdam, having lost only three men by sick-
ness in the voyage, and a fourth, who fell from the fore-
mast into the sea, not far from the coast of Guinea.
From Amsterdam I soon after set sail for England,
in a small vessel belonging to that city.
On the 16th of April we put in at the Downs. I
landed next morning, and saw once more my native
country, after an absence of five years and six months
complete. I went straight to Redriff, where I ar-
rived the same day at two in the afternoon, and
found my wife and family in good health.
PART THE FOURTH.
A VOYAGE TO THE COUNTRY OF THE HOUYHNHNMS.
CHAPTER I.
The author sets out as captain of a ship. His men conspire
against him; confine him a long time to his cabin; set
him on shore in an unknown land. He travels up into the
country. The Yahoos, a strange sort of animal, de-
scribed. The author meets two Houyhnhnms.
I CONTINUED at home with my wife and children
about five months, in a very happy condition, if I
could have learned the lesson of knowing when I
was well. I left my poor wife big with child, and
accepted an advantageous offer made me to be cap-
tain of the Adventure, a stout merchantman of 350
tons: for I understood navigation well, and being
grown weary of a surgeon's employment at sea,
which however I could exercise upon occasion, I
took a skilful young man of that calling, one Robert
Purefoy, into my ship. We set sail from Ports-
inouth upon the 7th day of September, 1710; on the
14th, we met with Captain Pocock of Bristol, at
Teneriffe, who was going to the Bay of Campeachy
to cut logwood. On the 16th he was parted from
us by a storm. I heard, since my return, that his ship
foundered, and none escaped but one cabin-boy.
He was an honest man and a good sailor, but a
little too positive in his own opinions, which was
the cause of his destruction, as it had been of several
others; for, if he had followed my advice, he might
have been safe at home with his family at this time,
as well as myself.
I had several men died in my ship of calentures,
so that I was forced to get recruits out of Barbadoes
and the Leeward Islands, where I touched, by the
direction of the merchants who employed me;
which I had soon too much cause to repent; for I
found afterwards that most of them had been buc-
caneers. I had fifty hands on board; and my
orders were, that I should trade with the Indians
in the South Sea, and make what discoveries
I could. These rogues, whom I had picked up,
debauched my other men, and they all formed a
conspiracy to seize the ship, and secure me; which
they did one morning, rushing into my cabin, and
binding me hand and foot, and threatening to throw
me overboard if I offered to stir. I told them "I
was their prisoner, and would submit." This they
made me swear to do, and then they unbound me,
60
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
only fastening one of my legs with a chain, near my
bed, and placed a sentry at my door with his piece
charged, who was commanded to shoot me dead if
I attempted my liberty. They sent me down vic-
tuals and drink, and took the government of the
ship to themselves. Their design was to turn
pirates and plunder the Spaniards, which they
could not do till they got more men. But first they
resolved to sell the goods in the ship, and then go
to Madagascar* for recruits, several among them
having died since my confinement. They sailed
many weeks and traded with the Indians; but I
knew not what course they took, being kept a close
prisoner in my cabin, and expecting nothing less
than to be murdered, as they often threatened me.
Upon the 9th day of May, 1711, one James Welch
came down to my cabin and said "he had orders
from the captain to set me ashore." I expostulated
with him, but in vain; neither would he so much as
tell me who their new captain was. They forced
me into the long-boat, letting me put on my best
suit of clothes, which were as good as new, and take
a small bundle of linen, but no arms except my
hanger; and they were so civil as not to search my
pockets into which I conveyed what money I had,
with some other little necessaries. They rowed
about a league, and then set me down on a strand.
I desired them to tell me what country it was. They
all swore they knew no more than myself; but
said, that the captain (as they called him) was re-
solved, after they had sold the lading, to get rid of
me in the first place where they could discover
land. They pushed off immediately, advising me
to make haste for fear of being overtaken by the
tide, and so bade me farewell.
I
In this desolate condition I advanced forward,
and soon got upon firm ground, where I sat down
on a bank to rest myself and consider what I had
best do. When I was a little refreshed I went up
into the country, resolving to deliver myself to the
first savages I should meet, and purchase my life
from them by some bracelets, glass rings, and other
toys, which sailors usually provide themselves with
in these voyages, and whereof I had some about me.
The land was divided by long rows of trees not
regularly planted, but naturally growing; there was
great plenty of grass, and several fields of oats.
walked very circumspectly for fear of being sur-
prised, or suddenly shot with an arrow from behind,
or on either side. I fell into a beaten road, where I
saw many tracks of human feet, and some of cows,
but most of horses. At last I beheld several animals
in a field, and one or two of the same kind sitting in
trees. Their shape was very singular and deformed,
which a little discomposed me, so that I lay down be-
hind a thicket, to observe them better. Some of
them coming forward near the place where I lay,
gave me an opportunity of distinctly marking their
form.
Their heads and breasts were covered with a
thick hair, some frizzled, and others lank; they had
beards like goats, and a long ridge of hair down
their backs and the fore parts of their legs and feet;
but the rest of their bodies was bare, so that I might
see their skins, which were of a brown buff colour.
They had no tails, nor any hair at all on their but-
tocks, except about the anus; which, I presume,
nature had placed there to defend them, as they sat
on the ground; for this posture they used as well as
lying down, and often stood on their hind-feet.
They climbed high trees as nimbly as a squirrel, for
they had strong extended claws before and behind,
terminating in sharp points, and hooked. They
would often spring, and bound, and leap, with pro-
* An island resorted to by the pirates called Buccaneers.
me.
digious agility. The females were not so large as
the males; they had long lank hair on their head,
but none on their faces, nor anything more than a
sort of down on the rest of their bodies, except
about the anus and pudenda. The dugs hung be-
tween their fore-feet, and often reached almost to
the ground as they walked. The hair of both sexes
was of several colours, brown, red, black, and yellow.
Upon the whole, I never beheld in all my travels so
disagreeable an animal, or one against which I na-
turally conceived so great an antipathy. So that
thinking I had seen enough, full of contempt and
aversion, I got up and pursued the beaten road,
hoping it might direct me to the cabin of some In-
dian. I had not got far when I met one of these
creatures full in my way, and coming up directly to
The ugly monster when he saw me, distorted
several ways every feature of his visage, and started
as at an object he had never seen before; then ap-
proaching nearer, lifted up his fore-paw, whether
out of curiosity or mischief I could not tell ; but I
drew my hanger and gave him a good blow with the
flat side of it, for I durst not strike with the edge,
fearing the inhabitants might be provoked against
me, if they should come to know that I had killed
or maimed any of their cattle. When the beast felt
the smart, he drew back and roared so loud, that a
herd of at least forty came flocking about me from
the next field, howling, and making odious faces ;
but I ran to the body of a tree, and leaning my back
against it, kept them off by waving my hanger.
Several of this cursed brood getting hold of the
branches behind, leapt up into the tree, whence
they began to discharge their excrements on my
head; however, I escaped pretty well by sticking
close to the stem of the tree, but was almost stifled
with the filth, which fell about me on every side.
In the midst of this distress, I observed them all
to run away on a sudden as fast as they could; at
which I ventured to leave the tree and pursue the
road, and wondering what it was that could put
them into this fright. But looking on my left hand,
I saw a horse walking softly in the field, which my
persecutors having sooner discovered, was the cause
of their flight. The horse started a little when he
came near me, but soon recovering himself, looked
full in my face with manifest tokens of wonder. He
viewed my hands and feet, walking round me seve-
ral times. I would have pursued my journey, but
he placed himself directly in the way, yet looking
with very mild aspect, never offering the least vio-
lence. We stood gazing at each other for some
time; at last I took the boldness to reach my hand
towards his neck, with a design to stroke it, using
the common style and whistle of jockeys when they
are going to handle a strange horse. But this ani-
mal seemed to receive my civilities with disdain,
shook his head and bent his brows, softly raising up
his right fore-foot to remove my hand. Then he
neighed three or four times, but in so different a
cadence, that I almost began to think he was speak-
ing to himself in some language of his own.
While he and I were thus employed, another
horse came up, who applying himself to the first in
a very formal manner, they gently struck each
other's right hoof before, neighing several times by
turns, and varying the sound, which seemed to be
almost articulate. They went some paces off, as if
it were to confer together, walking side by side,
backward and forward, like persons deliberating
upon some affair of weight, but often turning their
eyes towards me, as it were to watch that I might
not escape.
I was amazed to see such actions and
behaviour in brute beasts, and concluded with my-
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
61
self, that if the inhabitants of this country were en-
dued with a proportionable degree of reason, they
must needs be the wisest people upon earth. This
thought gave me so much comfort that I resolved to
go forward, until I could discover some house or
village, or meet with any of the natives, leaving the
two horses to discourse together as they pleased.
But the first, who was a dapple gray, observing me
to steal off, neighed after me in so expressive a tone,
that I fancied myself to understand what he meant ;
whereupon I turned back and came near to him, to
expect his further commands, but concealing my
fear as much as I could, for I began to be in some
pain how this adventure might terminate; and the
reader will easily believe I did not much like my
present situation.
The two horses came up close to me, looking
with great earnestness upon my face and hands.
The gray steed rubbed my hat all round with his right
fore-hoof, and discomposed it so much, that I was
forced to adjust it better by taking it off, and sett-
ling it again; whereat both he and his companion
(who was a brown bay) appeared to be much sur-
prised: the latter felt the lappet of my coat, and
finding it to hang loose about me, they both looked
with new signs of wonder. He stroked my right
hand, seeming to admire the softness and colour,
but he squeezed it so hard between his hoof and his
pastern, that I was forced to roar; after which they
both touched me with all possible tenderness. They
were under great perplexity about my shoes and
stockings, which they felt very often, neighing to
each other and using various gestures, not unlike
those of a philosopher, when he would attempt to
solve some new and difficult phenomenon.
Upon the whole, the behaviour of these animals
was so orderly and rational, so acute and judicious,
that I at last concluded they must needs be magi-
cians who had thus metamorphosed themselves upon
some design, and seeing a stranger in the way, re-
solved to divert themselves with him, or perhaps,
were really amazed at the sight of a man so very
different in habit, feature, and complexion, from
those who might probably live in so remote a cli-
mate. Upon the strength of this reasoning, I ven-
tured to address them in the following manner:
"Gentlemen, if you be conjurors as I have good
be conjurors as I have good
cause to believe, you can understand my language ;
therefore I make bold to let your worships know
that I am a poor distressed Englishman, driven by
his misfortunes upon your coast; and I entreat one
of you to let me ride upon his back, as if he were a
real horse, to some house or village where I can be
relieved. In return of which favour, I will make
you a present of this knife and bracelet," taking
them out of my pocket. The two creatures stood
silent while I spoke, seeming to listen with great
attention; and when I had ended they neighed fre-
quently towards each other, as if they were engaged
in serious conversation. I plainly observed that
their language expressed the passions very well, and
the words might, with little pains, be resolved into
an alphabet more easily than the Chinese.
spoke after him as well as I could, and found myself
perceivably to improve every time, though very far
from any degree of perfection. Then the bay tried
me with a second word, much harder to be pro-
nounced, but reducing it to the English orthogra-
phy, may be spelt thus, Houyhnhnm. I did not
succeed in this so well as in the former; but, after
two or three further trials I had better fortune, and
they both appeared amazed at my capacity.
After some further discourse, which I then con-
jectured might relate to me, the two friends tock
their leaves with the same compliment of striking
each other's hoof, and the gray made me signs that
I should walk before him; wherein I thought it
prudent to comply, till I could find a better director.
When I offered to slacken my pace, he would cry
hhuun hhuun. I guessed his meaning, and gave
him to understand as well as I could, "that I was
weary, and not able to walk faster;" upon which he
would stand a while to let me rest.
CHAPTER II.
The author conducted by a Houyhnhnm to his house, The
house described. The author's reception. The food of the
Houyhnhnms. The author in distress for want of medicine;
at last relieved. His manner of feeding in this country.
HAVING travelled about three miles we came to a
long kind of building, made of timber stuck in the
ground, and wattled across; the roof was low, and
covered with straw. I now began to be a little
comforted, and took out some toys which travellers
usually carry for presents to the savage Indians of
America, and other parts, in hopes the people of
the house would be thereby encouraged to receive
me kindly. The horse made me a sign to go in first.
It was a large room with a smooth clay floor, and a
rack and manger extending the whole length on one
side. There were three nags and two mares, not
eating, but some of them sitting down upon their
hams, which I very much wondered at, but won-
dered more to see the rest employed in domestic
business; these seemed but ordinary cattle. How-
ever, this confirmed my first opinion, that a people
who could so far civilise brute animals must needs
excel in wisdom all the nations of the world. The
gray came in just after, and thereby prevented any
ill treatment which the others might have given me.
He neighed to them several times in a style of
authority, and received answers.
Beyond this room there were three others reach-
ing the length of the house, to which you passed
through three doors, opposite to each other in the
manner of a vista; we went through the second
room towards the third. Here the gray walked in
first, beckoning me to attend: I waited in the
second room and got ready my presents for the
master and mistress of the house; they were two
knives, three bracelets of false pearls, a small look-
ing-glass, and a bead necklace. The horse neighed
three or four times, and I waited to hear some
answers in a human voice, but I heard no other
returns than in the same dialect, only one or two a
little shriller than his. I began to think that this
I could frequently distinguish the word Yahoo, house must belong to some person of great note
which was repeated by each of them several times; among them, because there appeared so much cere-
and although it was impossible for me to conjecture mony before I could gain admittance. But that a
what it meant, yet, while the two horses were busy man of quality should be served all by horses was
in conversation, I endeavoured to practise this word beyond my comprehension. I feared my brain was
upon my tongue; and, as soon as they were silent, disturbed by my sufferings and misfortunes. I
I boldly pronounced Yahoo in a loud voice, imitating roused myself, and looked about me in the room
at the same time, as near as I could, the neighing of where I was left alone; this was furnished like the
a horse, at which they were both visibly surprised; first, only after a more elegant manner. I rubbed
and the gray repeated the same word twice, as if he my eyes often, but the same objects still occurred.
meant to teach me the right accent; wherein II pinched my arms and sides to awake myself, hop-
62
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
ing I might be in a dream. I then absolutely
concluded that all these appearances could be no-
thing else but necromancy and magic. But I had
no time to pursue theso reflections, for the gray
horse came to the door and made me a sign to
follow him into the third room, where I saw a very
comely mare together with a colt and foal, sitting
on their haunches upon mats of straw, not unartfully
made, and perfectly neat and clean.
The mare soon after my entrance rose from her
mat, and coming up close, after having nicely ob
served my hands and face, gave me a most con-
temptuous look, and turning to the horse I heard
the word Yahoo often repeated betwixt them, the
meaning of which word I could not then compre
hend, although it was the first I had learned to
pronounce. But I was soon better informed, to my
everlasting mortification; for the horse beckoning
to me with his head, and repeating the hhuun,
hhuun, as he did upon the road, which I understood
was to attend him, led me out into a kind of court
where was another building at some distance from
the house. Here we entered, and I saw three of
those detestable creatures which I first met after my
landing, feeding upon roots and the flesh of some
animals which I afterwards found to be that of asses
and dogs, and now and then a cow dead by accident
or disease. They were all tied by the neck with
strong withes fastened to a beam; they held their
food between the claws of their fore-feet, and tore it
with their teeth.
The master horse ordered a sorrel nag, one of his
servants, to untie the largest of these animals and
take him into the yard. The beast and I were
brought close together, and our countenances dili-
gently compared both by master and servant, who
thereupon repeated several times the word Yahoo.
My horror and astonishment are not to be described,
when I observed in this abominable animal a per-
fect human figure; the face of it indeed was flat and
broad, the nose depressed, the lips large, and the
mouth wide; but these differences are common to
all savage nations where the lineaments of the coun-
tenance are distorted by the natives suffering their
infants to lie grovelling on the earth, or by carrying
them on their backs nuzzling with their face against
the mother's shoulders. The fore-feet of the Yahoo
differed from my hands in nothing else but the
length of the nails, the coarseness and brownness
of the palms, and the hairiness on the backs. There
was the same resemblance between our feet, with
the same differences, which I knew very well,
1
though the horses did not, because of my shoes and
stockings; the same in every part of our bodies
except as to hairiness and colour, which I have
already described.
The great difficulty that seemed to stick with the
two horses, was to see the rest of my body so very
different from that of a Yahoo; for which I was
obliged to my clothes, whereof they had no concep-
tion. The sorrel nag offered me a root which he
held (after their manner as we shall describe in its
proper place) between his hoof and pastern. I took
it in my hand, and having smelt it, returned it to
him again as civilly as I could. He brought out of
the Yahoos' kennel a piece of ass's flesh, but it
smelt so offensively that I turned from it with loath-
ing; he then threw it to the Yahoo, by whom it
was greedily devoured. He afterwards showed me
a wisp of hay and a fetlock full of oats, but I shook
my head to signify that neither of these were food
for me. And indeed I now apprehended that I
must absolutely starve if I did not get to some of my
own species; for as to those filthy Yahoos, although
there were few greater lovers of mankind at that
time than myself, yet I confess I never saw any sen-
sitive being so detestable on all accounts, and the
more I came near them the more hateful they grew
while I stayed in that country. This the master of
the horse observed by my behaviour, and therefore
sent the Yahoo back to his kennel. He then put
his fore-hoof to his mouth, at which I was much
surprised, although he did it with ease and with a
motion that appeared perfectly natural, and made
other signs to know what I would eat, but I could
not return him such an answer as he was able to
apprehend; and if he had understood me, I did not
see how it was possible to contrive any way for
finding myself nourishment. While we were thus
engaged I observed a cow passing by, whereupon I
pointed to her and expressed a desire to go and
milk her. This had its effect, for he led me back
into the house and ordered a mare-servant to open
a room, where a good store of milk lay in earthen
and wooden vessels after a very orderly and cleanly
manner. She gave me a large bowlful, of which I
drank very heartily and found myself well refreshed.
About noon I saw coming towards the house a
kind of vehicle drawn like a sledge by four Yahoos.
There was in it an old steed who seemed to be of
quality; he alighted with his hind feet forward,
having by accident got a hurt in his left fore-foot.
He came to dine with our horse, who received him
with great civility. They dined in the best room,
and had oats boiled in milk for the second course,
which the old horse eat warm, but the rest cold.
Their mangers were placed circular in the middle of
the room, and divided into several partitions, round
which they sat on their haunches upon basses of
straw. In the middle was a large rack with angles
answering to every partition of the manger, so that
each horse and mare cat their own hay and their
own mash of oats and milk with much decency and
regularity. The behaviour of the young colt and
foal appeared very modest, and that of the master
and mistress extremely cheerful and complaisant to
their guest. The gray ordered me to stand by him,
and much discourse passed between him and his
friend concerning me, as I found by the stranger's
often looking on me, and the frequent repetition of
the word Yuhoo.
He
I happened to wear my gloves, which the master
gray observing, secmed perplexed, discovering signs
of wonder what I had done to my fore-feet.
put his hoof three or four times to them, as if he
would signify that I should reduce them to their
former shape, which I presently did, pulling off
both my gloves and putting them into my pocket.
This occasioned further talk; and I saw the com-
pany was pleased with my behaviour, whereof I soon
found the good effects. I was ordered to speak the
few words I understood; and while they were at
dinner the master taught me the names for oats,
milk, fire, water, and some others which I could
readily pronounce after him, having from my youth
a great facility in learning languages.
When dinner was done the master horse took me
aside, and by signs and words made me understand
the concern he was in that I had nothing to eat.
Oats in their tongue are called hlunnh. This word
I pronounced two or three times; for although I
had refused them at first, yet upon second thoughts
I considered that I could contrive to make of them
a kind of bread, which might be sufficient with milk
to keep me alive till I could make my escape to
some other country, and to creatures of my own
species. The horse immediately ordered a white
mare-servant of his family to bring me a good quan-
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
63
tity of oats in a sort of wooden tray. These I heat-
ed before the fire as well as I could, and rubbed
them till the husks came off, which I made a shift
to winnow from the grain; I ground and beat them
between two stones, then took water, and made
them into a paste or cake, which I toasted at the fire
and eat warm with milk. It was at first a very in-
sipid diet, though common enough in many parts of
Europe, but grew tolerable by time; and having
been often reduced to hard fare in my life, this was
not the first experiment I had made how easily na-
ture is satisfied. And I cannot but observe that I
never had one hour's sickness while I staid in this
island. It is true I sometimes made a shift to catch
a rabbit or bird by springes made of Yahoos' hairs,
and I often gathered wholesome herbs, which I
boiled, and eat as salads with my bread; and now
and then for a rarity I made a little butter and
drank the whey. I was at first at a great loss for
salt, but custom soon reconciled me to the want of
and I am confident that the frequent use of salt
among us is an effect of luxury, and was first intro-
duced only as a provocative to drink, except where
it is necessary for preserving flesh in long voyages
or in places remote from great markets; for we ob-
serve no animal to be fond of it but man: * and as
to myself, when I left this country it was a great
while before I could endure the taste of it in any-
thing that I eat.
it;
This is enough to say upon the subject of my diet,
wherewith other travellers fill their books, as if the
readers were personally concerned whether we fare
well or ill. However, it was necessary to mention
this matter, lest the world should think it impossible
that I could find sustenance for three years, in such
a country and among such inhabitants.
When it grew towards evening, the master-horse
ordered a place for me to lodge in; it was but six
yards from the house, and separated from the stable
of the Yahoos. Here I got some straw, and cover-
ing myself with my own clothes, slept very sound.
But I was in a short time better accommodated, as
the reader shall know hereafter, when I come to
treat more particularly about my way of living.
CHAPTER III.
The author studies to learn the language. The Houyhnhnm,
his master, assists in teaching him. The language de-
scribed. Several Houyhnhnms of quality come out of curi-
osity to see the author. He gives his master a short account
of his voyage.
so great, that he spent many hours of his leisure to
instruct me.
He was convinced (as he afterwards
told me) that I must be a Yahoo; but my teach-
ableness, civility and cleanliness astonished him;
which were qualities altogether opposite to those
animals. He was most perplexed about my clothes,
reasoning sometimes with himself whether they
were a part of my body; for I never pulled them
off till the family were asleep, and got them on
before they waked in the morning. My master was
eager to learn "whence I came how I acquired
those appearances of reason which I discovered in
all my actions and to know my story from my own
mouth, which he hoped he should soon do, by the
great proficiency I made in learning and pronoun-
cing their words and sentences.' To help my me-
mory I formed all I learned into the English alpha-
bet, and writ the words down, with the translations.
This last, after some time I ventured to do in my
master's presence. It cost me much trouble to ex-
plain to him what I was doing, for the inhabitants
have not the least idea of books or literature.
My principal endeavour was to learn the language,
which my master (for so I shall henceforth call him)
and his children, and every servant of his house
were desirous to teach me ; for they looked upon it
as a prodigy that a brute animal should discover
such marks of a rational creature. I pointed to
everything and inquired the name of it, which I
wrote down in my journal-book when I was alone;
and corrected my bad accent by desiring those of
the family to pronounce it often. In this employ-
ment a sorrel nag, one of the under servants, was
very ready to assist me.
In speaking they pronounce through the nose and
throat, and their language approaches nearest to the
High Dutch or German of any I know in Europe,
but is much more graceful and significant. The
Emperor Charles V. made almost the same observa-
tion when he said, "That if he were to speak to his
horse, it should be in High Dutch.”
The curiosity and impatience of my master were
Many animals will cat salt, and in particular, sheep and
oxen. Earl Spencer preserves his cattle from disease by the
profuse sprinkling of that inestimable article to all animals
over his pastures.
"
In about ten weeks' time I was able to understand
most of his questions, and in three months could
He was ex-
give him some tolerable answers.
tremely curious to know "from what part of the
country I came, and how I was taught to imitate a
rational creature; because the Yahoos (whom he
saw I exactly resembled in my head, hands, and
face, that were only visible), with some appearance
of cunning, and the strongest disposition to mis-
chief, were observed to be the most unteachable of all
brutes." I answered, "That I came over the sea from
a far place, with many others of my own kind, in a
great hollow vessel, made of the bodies of trees; that
my companions forced me to land on this coast, and
then left me to shift for myself." It was with some
difficulty, and by the help of many signs, that I
brought him to understand me. He replied, "That
I must needs be mistaken, or that I said the thing
which was not;" for they have no word in their
language to express lying or falsehood. He knew
it was impossible that there could be a country be-
yond the sea, or that a parcel of brutes could move
a wooden vessel whither they pleased upon water.
He was sure no Houyhnhnm alive could make such
a vessel, nor would trust Yahoos to manage it."
The word Houyhnhnm, in their tongue, signifies a
horse, and, in its etymology, the perfection of nature.
I told my master, "That I was at a loss for expres-
hoped, in a short time, I should be able to tell him
sion, but would improve as fast as I could, and
wonders." He was pleased to direct his own mare,
his colt and foal, and the servants of the family, to
day, for two or three hours, he was at the same
take all opportunities of instructing me; and every
pains himself. Several horses and mares of quality
in the neighbourhood came often to our house,
upon the report spread of "a wonderful Yahoo,
his words and actions, to discover some glimmerings
that could speak like a Houyhnhnm, and seemed, in
of reason." These delighted to converse with me;
they put many questions, and received such answers
as I was able to return. By all these advantages I
made so great a progress, that, in five months from
my arrival, I understood whatever was spoken, and
could express myself tolerably well.
The Houyhnhnms, who came to visit my master
out of a design of seeing and talking with me, could
hardly believe me to be a right Yahoo, because my
body had a different covering from others of my
kind. They were astonished to observe me with-
out the usual hair or skin, except on my head, face,
and hands; but I discovered that secret to my
64
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
master upon an accident which happened about a
fortnight before.
I have already told the reader that every night,
when the family were gone to bed, it was my custom
to strip, and cover myself with my clothes. It hap-
pened, one morning early, that my master sent for
me by the sorrel nag, who was his valet. When he
came I was fast asleep, my clothes fallen off on one
side, and my shirt above my waist. I awaked at
the noise he made, and observed him to deliver his
message in some disorder; after which he went to
my master, and, in a great fright, gave him a very
confused account of what he had seen.
This I pre-
sently discovered; for, going as soon as I was
dressed to pay my attendance upon his honour, he
asked me "The meaning of what his servant had
reported, that I was not the same thing when I
slept as I appeared to be at other times; that
his valet assured him some part of me was white,
some yellow, at least not so white, and some
brown.
""
I had hitherto concealed the secret of my dress,
in order to distinguish myself as much as possible
from that cursed race of Yahoos, but now I found it
in vain to do so any longer. Besides, I considered
that my clothes and shoes would soon wear out,
which already were in a declining condition, and
must be supplied by some contrivance, from the
hides of Yahoos, or other brutes, whereby the whole
secret would be known. I therefore told my master,
"That in the country whence I came, those of my
kind always covered their bodies with the hairs of
certain animals prepared by art, as well for decency
as to avoid the inclemencies of air, both hot and
cold; of which, as to my own person, I would give
him immediate conviction, if he pleased to command
me; only desiring his excuse if I did not expose
those parts that nature taught us to conceal.”
said, "My discourse was all very strange, but es-
pecially the last part; for he could not understand
why nature should teach us to conceal what nature
had given; that neither himself nor family were
ashamed of any part of their bodies; but, however,
I might do as I pleased." Whereupon I first un-
buttoned my coat, and pulled it off; I did the same
with my waistcoat; I drew off my shoes, stockings,
and breeches; I let my shirt down to my waist, and
drew up the bottom, fastening it like a girdle about
my middle, to hide my nakedness.
He
My master observed the whole performance with
great signs of curiosity and admiration. He took
up all my clothes in his pastern, one piece after
another, and examined them diligently; he then
stroked my body very gently, and looked round me
several times; after which he said it was plain I
must be a perfect Yahoo, but that I differed very
much from the rest of my species, in the softness,
whiteness, and smoothness of my skin; my want
of hair in several parts of my body; the shape and
shortness of my claws behind and before; and my
affectation of walking continually on my two hinder
feet. He desired to see no more, and gave me leave
to put on my clothes again, for I was shuddering
with cold.
I expressed my uneasiness at his giving me so
often the appellation of Yahoo, an odious animal,
for which I had so utter a hatred and contempt; I
begged he would forbear applying that word to me,
and make the same order in his family, and among
his friends whom he suffered to see me. I requested
likewise, "That the secret of my having a false
covering to my body might be known to none but
himself, at least, as long as my present clothing
should last for as to what the sorrel nag his valet
had observed, his honour might command him to
conceal it."
All this my master very graciously consented to;
and thus the secret was kept till my clothes began
to wear out, which I was forced to supply by se-
veral contrivances that shall hereafter be mentioned.
In the mean time he desired "I would go on with
my utmost diligence to learn their language, because
he was more astonished at my capacity for speech
and reason than at the figure of my body, whether
it were covered or not; adding, "That he waited.
with some impatience to hear the wonders which I
promised to tell him."
Thenceforward he doubled the pains he had been
at to instruct me; he brought me into all company,
and made them treat me with civility; "because,"
as he told them privately, "this would put me into
good humour, and make me more diverting.”
Every day, when I waited on him, besides the
trouble he was at in teaching, he would ask me several
questions concerning myself, which I answered as
well as I could; and by these means he had already
received some general ideas, though very imperfect.
It would be tedious to relate the several steps by
which I advanced to a more regular conversation;
but the first account I gave of myself in any order
and length was to this purpose:
That,
He
"That I came from a very far country, as I al-
ready had attempted to tell him, with about fifty
more of my own species; that we travelled upon
the seas in a great hollow vessel made of wood, and
larger than his honour's house. I described the
ship to him in the best terms I could, and ex-
plained, by the help of my handkerchief displayed,
how it was driven forward by the wind.
upon a quarrel among us, I was set on shore on
this coast, where I walked forward, without know-
ing whither, till he delivered me from the persecu
tion of those execrable Yahoos." He asked me,
"Who made the ship, and how it was possible that
the Houyhnhnms of my country would leave it to
the management of brutes ?" My answer was,
"That I durst proceed no further in my relation
unless he would give me his word and honour that
he would not be offended, and then I would tell
him the wonders I had so often promised."
agreed, and I went on, by assuring him that the
ship was made by creatures like myself, who in all
the countries I had travelled, as well as in my own,
were the only governing rational animals; and that,
upon my arrival hither, I was as much astonished
to see the Houyhnhnms act like rational beings as
he or his friends could be in finding some marks of
reason in a creature he was pleased to call a Yahoo ;
to which I owned my resemblance in every part,
but could not account for their degenerate and
brutal nature." I said further, "That if good for-
tune ever restored me to my native country, to
relate my travels hither, as I resolved to do, every-
body would believe that I said the thing that was
not, that I invented the story out of my own head;
and (with all possible respect to himself, his family,
and friends, and under his promise of not being
offended), our countrymen would hardly think it
probable that a Houyhnhnm should be the presiding
creature of a nation, and a Yahoo the brute."
CHAPTER IV.
The au-
The Houyhnhnm's notion of truth and falsehood.
thor's discourse disapproved by his master. The author
gives a more particular account of himself and the accidents
of his voyage.
My master heard me with great appearances of un-
easiness in his countenance; because doubting, or
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
65
not believing, are so little known in this country,
that the inhabitants cannot tell how to behave
themselves under such circumstances. And I re-
member, in frequent discourses with my master
concerning the nature of manhood in other parts of
the world, having occasion to talk of lying and false
representation, it was with much difficulty that he
comprehended what I meant, although he had other-
wise a most acute judgment; for he argued thus:
"That the use of speech was to make us understand
one another, and to receive information of facts;
now, if any one said the thing which was not, these
ends were defeated, because I cannot properly be
said to understand him; and I am so far from re-
ceiving information that he leaves me worse than in
ignorance; for I am led to believe a thing black
when it is white, and short when it is long."
And these were all the notions he had concerning
that faculty of lying, so perfectly well understood,
and so universally practised, among human crea-
tures.
To return from this digression. When I asserted
that the Yahoos were the only governing animals
in my country, which my master said was altogether
past his conception, he desired to know, "Whether
we had Houyhnhnms among us, and what was their
employment?"
that they were severely beaten, while they were
young, for any mischievous tricks; that the males,
designed for the common use of riding or draught,
were generally castrated about two years after their
birth, to take down their spirits, and make them
more tame and gentle; that they were indeed sen-
sible of rewards and punishments; but his honour
would please to consider that they had not the least
tincture of reason, any more than the Yahoos in this
country.”
It put me to the pains of many circumlocutions
to give my master a right idea of what I spoke; for
their language does not abound in variety of words,
because their wants and passions are fewer than
among us. But it is impossible to express his
noble resentment at our savage treatment of the
Houyhnhnm race; particularly after I had ex-
plained the manner and use of castrating horses
among us to hinder them from propagating their
kind and to render them more servile. He said,
"If it were possible there could be any country
where Yahoos alone were endued with reason, they
certainly must be the governing animal; because
reason in time will always prevail against brutal
strength. But, considering the frame of our bodies,
and especially of mine, he thought no creature of
equal bulk was so ill contrived for employing that
reason in the common offices of life;" whereupon
he desired to know "whether those among whom
I lived resembled me or the Yahoos of his country."
I assured him, "that I was as well shaped as most
"I
of my age, but the younger, and the females were
much more soft and tender, and the skins of the
latter generally as white as milk." He said, I
differed indeed from other Yahoos, being much
more cleanly and not altogether so deformed; but
in point of real advantage, he thought I differed for
the worse, that my nails were of no use either to my
fore or hinder feet. As to my fore-feet, he could
not properly call them by that name, for he never
observed me to walk upon them; that they were too
soft to bear the ground; that I generally went with
them uncovered; neither was the covering I some-
times wore on them of the same shape or so strong
as that on my feet behind. That I could not walk
with any security, for if either of my hinder feet
slipped, I must inevitably fall." He then began to
find fault with other parts of my body: "The flat-
ness of my face, the prominence of my nose, mine
eyes placed directly in front, so that I could not
look on either side without turning my head; that
I was not able to feed myself without lifting one of
my fore-feet to my mouth; and therefore nature had
placed those joints to answer that necessity. He
knew not what could be the use of those several
clefts and divisions in my feet behind; that these
were too soft to bear the hardness and sharpness of
stones, without a covering made from the skin of
some other brute; that my whole body wanted a
fence against heat and cold which I was forced to
put on and off every day with tediousness and
trouble. And lastly, that he observed every animal
in this country naturally to abhor the Yahoos,
whom the weaker avoided and the stronger drove
from them. So that, supposing us to have the gift
of reason, he could not see how it were possible to
cure that natural antipathy which every creature
discovered against us; nor consequently, how we
could tame and render them serviceable. How-
ever, he would," as he said, "debate the matter no
further, because he was more desirous to know
my story, the country where I was born, and the
several actions and events of my life before I came
I told him, "We had great num-
bers; that in summer they grazed in the fields, and
in winter were kept in houses with hay and oats,
where Yahoo servants were employed to rub their
skins smooth, comb their manes, pick their feet,
serve them with food, and make their beds."
understand you well," said my master; "it is now
very plain, from all you have spoken, that whatever
share of reason the Yahoos pretend to, the Houyhn-
hnms are your masters. I heartily wish our Yahoos
would be so tractable." I begged "his honour
would please to excuse me from proceeding any fur-
ther, because I was very certain that the account he
expected from me would be highly displeasing."
But he insisted in commanding me to let him know
the best and the worst. I told him "he should be
obeyed." I owned "that the IIouyhnhnms among
us, whom we called horses, were the most generous
and comely animal we had; that they excelled in
strength and swiftness; and when they belonged to
persons of quality were employed in travelling,
racing, or drawing chariots; they were treated with
much kindness and care, till they fell into diseases,
or became foundered in the feet; but then they
were sold, and used to all kind of drudgery till they
died; after which their skins were stripped, and
sold for what they were worth, and their bodies left
to be devoured by dogs and birds of prey. But the
common race of horses had not so good fortune,
being kept by farmers and carriers, and other mean
people, who put them to greater labour and fed
them worse.' I described, as well as I could, our
way of riding; the shape and use of a bridle, a
saddle, a spur, and a whip; of harness and wheels.
I added, that we fastened plates of a certain hard
substance, called iron, at the bottom of their feet,
to preserve their hoofs from being broken by the
stony ways on which we often travelled."
My master, after some expressions of great indig-
nation, wondered how we dared to venture upon
a Houyhnhnm's back; for he was sure that the
weakest servant in his house would be able to shake
off the strongest Yahoo, or, by lying down and
rolling on his back, squeeze the brute to death.” I
answered, "That our horses were trained up, from
three or four years old, to the several uses we in-
tended them for; that if any of them proved in-
tolerably vicious, they were employed for carriages; | hither."
VOL. I.
F
66
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
I assured him "how extremely desirous I was
that he should be satisfied on every point; but I
doubted much whether it would be possible for me
to explain myself on several subjects, whereof his
honour could have no conception, because I saw
nothing in his country to which I could resemble
them; that, however, I would do my best, and
strive to express myself by similitudes, humbly de-
siring his assistance when I wanted proper words;"
which he was pleased to promise me.
I said, "My birth was of honest parents in an
island called England, which was remote from his
country, as many days' journey as the strongest of
his honour's servants could travel in the annual
course of the sun; that I was bred a surgeon, whose
trade it is to cure wounds and hurts in the body,
gotten by accident or violence; that my country was
governed by a female man, whom we called queen;
that I left it to get riches, whereby I might main-
tain myself and family, when I should return; that
in my last voyage, I was commander of the ship,
and had about fifty Yahoos under me, many of
which died at sea, and I was forced to supply them
by others picked out from several nations; that our
ship was twice in danger of being sunk; the first
time by a great storm, and the second by striking
against a rock." Here my master interposed, by
asking me, "How I could persuade strangers out of
different countries to venture with me, after the
losses I had sustained and the hazards I had run ?"
I said, "They were fellows of desperate fortunes,
forced to fly from the places of their birth on ac-
count of their poverty or their crimes. Some were
undone by law-suits; others spent all they had in
drinking, whoring, and gaming; others fled for
treason; many for murder, theft, poisoning, robbery,
perjury, forgery, coining false money, for commit-
ting rapes or sodomy, for flying from their colours
or deserting to the enemy; and most of them
had broken prison: None of these durst return to
their native countries, for fear of being hanged
or of starving in a jafl; and therefore they were
under a necessity of seeking a livelihood in other
places."
During this discourse, my master was pleased to
interrupt me several times. I had made use of
many circumlocutions in describing to him the na-
ture of the several crimes for which most of our
crew had been forced to fly their country. This la-
bour took up several days' conversation, before he
was able to comprehend me. He was wholly at a
loss to know what could be the use or necessity of
practising those vices: to clear up which, I endea-
voured to give some ideas of the desire of power
and riches; of the terrible effects of lust, intem-
perance, malice, and envy. All this I was forced
All this I was forced
to define and describe by putting cases and making
suppositions. After which, like one whose imagin-
ation was struck with something never seen or
heard of before, he would lift up his eyes with
amazement and indignation. Power, government,
war, law, punishment, and a thousand other things,
had no terms wherein that language could express
them, which made the difficulty almost insuperable,
to give my master any conception of what I meant.
But being of an excellent understanding, much im-
proved by contemplation and converse, he at last
arrived at a competent knowledge of what human
nature, in our parts of the world, is capable to per-
form, and desired I would give him some particular
account of that land which we call Europe, but es-
pecially of my own country.
CHAPTER V.
The author at his master's command, informs him of the state
of England. The causes of war among the princes of
Europe. The author begins to explain the English Con-
stitution.
THE reader may please to observe, that the follow-
ing extract of many conversations I had with my
master contains a summary of the most material
points which were discoursed at several times for
above two years; his honour often desiring fuller
satisfaction as I further improved in the Houyhnhnm
tongue. I laid before him, as well as I could, the
whole state of Europe; I discoursed of trade and
manufactures, of arts and sciences; and the answers
I gave to all the questions he made, as they arose
upon several subjects, were a fund of conversation
not to be exhausted. But I shall here only set down
the substance of what passed between us concern-
ing my own country, reducing it in order as well
as I can, without any regard to time or other cir-
cumstances while I strictly adhere to truth. My
only concern is, that I shall hardly be able to do
justice to my master's arguments and expressions,
which must needs suffer by my want of capacity,
as well as by a translation into our barbarous
English.
In obedience, therefore, to his honour's com-
mands, I related to him the Revolution under the
Prince of Orange; the long war with France, en-
tered into by the said prince, and renewed by his
successor, the present queen, wherein the greatest
powers of Christendom were engaged, and which
still continued. I computed, at his request," that
about a million of Yahoos might have been killed
in the whole progress of it; and perhaps a hundred
or more cities taken, and five times as many ships
burnt or sunk."
He asked me, "What were the usual causes or
motives that made one country go to war with
another?" I answered, "They were innumerable;
but I should only mention a few of the chief.
Sometimes the ambition of princes, who never
think they have land or people enough to govern ;
sometimes the corruption of ministers, who engage
their master in a war in order to stifle or divert the
clamour of the subjects against their evil adminis-
tration. Difference in opinions has cost many
millions of lives; for instance, whether flesh be
bread, or bread be flesh; whether the juice of a
certain berry be blood or wine [Transubstantiation];
whether whistling be a vice or a virtue [church-
music]; whether it be better to kiss a post or
throw it into the fire [kissing a cross]; what is
the best colour for a coat, whether black, white,
red, or gray; and whether it should be long or
short, narrow or wide, dirty or clean, with many
more." Neither are any wars so furious and bloody,
or of so long continuance, as those occasioned by
difference in opinion, especially if it be in things
indifferent.
"Sometimes the quarrel between two princes is
to decide which of them shall dispossess a third of
his dominions, where neither of them pretend to
any right. Sometimes one prince quarrels with
another, for fear the other should quarrel with him.
Sometimes a war is entered upon because the enemy
is too strong, and sometimes because he is too weak.
Sometimes our neighbours want the things which
we have, or have the things which we want, and we
both fight till they take ours, or give us theirs. It
is a very justifiable cause of a war to invade a
a The colour and make of sacred vestments, and orders of
Popish ecclesiastics.
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
67
country after the people have been wasted by
famine, destroyed by pestilence, or embroiled by
factions among themselves. It is justifiable to enter
into war against our nearest ally when one of his
towns lies convenient for us, or a territory of land,
that would render our dominions round and com-
pact. If a prince sends forces into a nation where
the people are poor and ignorant, he may lawfully
put half of them to death, and make slaves of the
rest, in order to civilise and reduce them from their
barbarous way of living. It is a very kingly, hon-
ourable, and frequent practice, when one prince de-
sires the assistance of another to secure him against
an invasion, that the assistant, when he has driven
out the invader, should seize on the dominions him-
self, and kill, imprison, or banish the prince he came
to relieve. Alliance by blood or marriage is a fre-
quent cause of war between princes; and the nearer
their kindred is, the greater their disposition to quar-
rel. Poor nations are hungry, and rich nations are
proud; and pride and hunger will ever be at va-
riance. For these reasons, the trade of a soldier is
held the most honourable of all others; because a
soldier is a Yahoo hired to kill, in cold blood, as
many of his own species who have never offended
him as possibly he can.
"There is likewise a kind of beggarly princes in
Europe, not able to make war by themselves, who
hire out their troops to richer nations for so much
a-day to each man; of which they keep three-fourths
to themselves, and it is the best part of their main-
tenance: such are those in many northern parts of
Europe."a
"What you have told me," said my master, "upon
the subject of war, does, indeed, discover most
admirably the effects of that reason you pretend to:
however, it is happy that the shame is greater than
the danger, and that nature has left you utterly inca-
pable of doing much mischief. For, your mouths
lying flat with your faces, you can hardly bite each
other to any purpose, unless by consent. Then, as
to the claws upon your feet, before and behind, they
are so short and tender, that one of our Yahoos
would drive a dozen of yours before him. And
therefore, in recounting the numbers of those who
have been killed in battle, I cannot but think you
have said the thing which is not.”
I could not forbear shaking my head and smiling
a little at his ignorance. And, being no stranger to
the art of war, I gave him a description of cannons,
culverins, muskets, carabines, pistols, bullets, pow-
der, swords, bayonets, battles, sieges, retreats, at-
tacks, undermines, countermines, bombardments,
sea-fights, ships sunk with a thousand men, twenty
thousand killed on each side, dying groans, limbs
flying in the air, smoke, noise, confusion, trampling
to death under horses' feet, flight, pursuit, victory;
fields strewed with carcases, left for food to dogs,
and wolves, and birds of prey; plundering, stripping,
ravishing, burning, and destroying. And, to set
forth the valour of my own dear countrymen, I as-
sured him" that I had seen them blow up a hun-
dred enemies at once in a siege, and as many in a
ship; and beheld the dead bodies drop down in
pieces from the clouds, to the great diversion of the
spectators."b
I was going on to more particulars, when my
master commanded me silence. He said, "whoever
This passage shows how clearly Swift foresaw the evil
consequences derived from engrafting a poor German stock
upon the rich productive trees of other nations; and none more
than on our own.
b It would be impossible, by the most laboured argument,
to show the absurd injustice and cruelty of war, so effectually
as by this simple exhibition of them in a new light.
understood the nature of Yahoos might easily be-
lieve it possible for so vile an animal to be capable
of every action I had named, if their strength and
cunning equalled their malice. But as my discourse
had increased his abhorrence of the whole species,
so he found it gave him a disturbance in his mind
to which he was wholly a stranger before. He
thought his ears, being used to such abominable
words, might by degrees admit them with less de-
testation; that although he hated the Yahoos of this
country, yet he no more blamed them for their
odious qualities, than he did a gnnayh (a bird of
prey) for its cruelty, or a sharp stone for cutting his
hoof. But when a creature pretending to reason
could be capable of such enormities, he dreaded
lest the corruption of that faculty might be worse
than brutality itself. He seemed therefore confi-
dent, that instead of reason, we were only possessed
of some quality fitted to increase our natural vices,
as the reflection from a troubled stream returns the
image of an ill-shapen body, not only larger, but
more distorted."
He added, "that he had heard too much upon
the subject of war, both in this and some former
discourses. There was another point which a little
perplexed him at present. I had informed him that
some of our crew left their country on account of
being ruined by law; that I had already explained
the meaning of the word; but he was at a loss how
it should come to pass, that the law, which was in-
tended for every man's preservation, should be any
man's ruin. Therefore he desired to be further
satisfied what I meant by law, and the dispensers
thereof, according to the present practice in my own
country; because he thought nature and reason
were sufficient guides for a reasonable animal as we
pretended to be, in showing us what he ought to
do, and what to avoid."
I assured his honour, "that law was a science in
which I had not much conversed, further than by
employing advocates in vain upon some injustices
that had been done me: however, I would give him
all the satisfaction I was able.'
""
I said, "there was a society of men among us,
bred up from their youth in the art of proving, by
words multiplied for the purpose, that white is
black and black is white, according as they are paid.
To this society all the rest of the people are slaves.
For example, if my neighbour has a mind to my
cow, he has a lawyer to prove that he ought to have
my cow from me. I must then hire another to de-
fend my right, it being against all rules of law that
any man should be allowed to speak for himself.
Now, in this case, I, who am the right owner, lie
under two great disadvantages,-first, my lawyer,
being practised almost from his cradle in defending
falsehood, is quite out of his element when he would
be an advocate for justice, which is an unnatural
office he always attempts with great awkwardness, if
not with ill-will. The second disadvantage is, that
my lawyer must proceed with great caution, or else
he will be reprimanded by the judges and abhorred
by his brethren, as one that would lessen the prac-
tice of the law. And therefore I have but two me-
thods to preserve my cow. The first is, to gain over
my adversary's lawyer with a double fee, who will
then betray his client by insinuating that he has jus-
tice on his side. The second way is, for my lawyer
to make my cause appear as unjust as he can, by
allowing the cow to belong to my adversary and
this, if it be skilfully done, will certainly bespeak
the favour of the bench. Now, your honour is to
know, that these judges are persons appointed to
decide all controversies of property, as well as for
F 2
68
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
the trial of criminals, and picked out from the most
dexterous lawyers, who are grown old or lazy; and
having been biassed all their lives against truth and
equity, lie under such a fatal necessity of favouring
fraud, perjury, and oppression, that I have known
some of them refuse a large bribe from the side where
justice lay, rather than injure the faculty, by doing
anything unbecoming their nature or their office.
"It is a maxim among these lawyers, that what-
ever has been done before may legally be done
again; and therefore they take special care to record
all the decisions formerly made against common jus-
tice and the general reason of mankind. These,
under the name of precedents, they produce as autho-
rities to justify the most iniquitous opinions; and
the judges never fail of directing accordingly.
"In pleading, they studiously avoid entering into
the merits of the cause, but are loud, violent, and
tedious in dwelling upon all circumstances which are
not to the purpose. For instance, in the case
already mentioned, they never desire to know what
claim or title my adversary has to my cow; but
whether the said cow were red or black; her horns
long or short; whether the field I graze her in be
round or square; whether she was milked at home
or abroad; what diseases she is subject to, and the
like; after which they consult precedents, adjourn
the cause from time to time, and in ten, twenty, or
thirty years come to an issue.
"It is likewise to be observed, that this society
has a peculiar cant and jargon of their own, that no
other mortal can understand, and wherein all their
laws are written, which they take special care to
multiply; whereby they have wholly confounded the
very essence of truth and falsehood, of right and
wrong; so that it will take thirty years to decide
whether the field left me by my ancestors for six
generations belongs to me or to a stranger three hun-
dred miles off.
"In the trial of persons accused for crimes against
the state, the method is much more short and com-
mendable: the judge first sends to sound the dispo-
sition of those in power, after which he can easily
hang or save a criminal, strictly preserving all due
forms of law.'
""
Here my master, interposing, said, "it was a pity
that creatures endowed with such prodigious abili-
ties of mind, as these lawyers, by the description I
gave of them, must certainly be, were not rather en-
couraged to be instructors of others in wisdom and
knowledge." In answer to which I assured his
honour, “that in all points out of their own trade,
they were usually the most ignorant and stupid gene-
ration among us, the most despicable in common
conversation, avowed enemies to all knowledge and
learning, and equally disposed to pervert the general
reason of mankind in every other subject of dis-
course as in that of their own profession."
CHAPTER VI.
A continuation of the state of England under Queen Anne.
The character of a first minister of state in European courts.
My master was yet wholly at a loss to understand
what motives could incite this race of lawyers to per-
plex, disquiet, and weary themselves, and engage in
a confederacy of injustice, merely for the sake of
injuring their fellow-animals; neither could he com-
prehend what I meant in saying they did it for hire.
Whereupon I was at much pains to describe to him
the use of money, the materials it was made of, and
the value of the metals; "that when a Yahoo had
got a great store of this precious substance, he was
able to purchase whatever he had a mind to; the
finest clothing, the noblest houses, great tracts of
land, the most costly meats and drinks, and have
his choice of the most beautiful females. There-
fore, since money alone was able to perform all
these feats, our Yahoos thought they could never
have enough of it to spend, or to save, as they found
themselves inclined, from their natural bent, either
to profusion or avarice; that the rich man enjoyed
the fruit of the poor man's labour, and the latter
were a thousand to one in proportion to the former;
that the bulk of our people were forced to live miser-
ably, by labouring every day for small wages, to
make a few live plentifully."
I enlarged myself much on these and many other
particulars to the same purpose; but his honour
was still to seek; for he went upon a supposition
that all animals had a title to their share in the pro-
ductions of the earth, and especially those who pre-
sided over the rest. Therefore he desired I would
let him know, "What these costly meats were, and
how any of us happened to want them?" Where-
upon I enumerated as many sorts as came into my
head, with the various methods of dressing them,
which could not be done without sending vessels by
sea to every part of the world, as well for liquors to
drink as for sauces, and innumerable other conve-
niences. I assured him "that this whole globe of
earth must be at least three times gone round be-
fore one of our better female Yahoos could get her
breakfast, or a cup to put it in." He said, "That
must needs be a miserable country which cannot
furnish food for its own inhabitants. But what he
chiefly wondered at was, how such vast tracks of
ground as I described should be wholly without fresh
water, and the people put to the necessity of sending
over the sea for drink." I replied, "That Eng-
land (the dear place of my nativity) was computed
to produce three times the quantity of food more
than its inhabitants are able to consume, as well as
liquors extracted from grain, or pressed out of the
fruit of certain trees, which made excellent drink,
and the same proportion in every other convenience
of life. But in order to feed the luxury and intem-
perance of the males, and the vanity of the females,
we sent away the greatest part of our necessary
things to other countries, whence, in return, we
brought the materials of diseases, folly, and vice, to
spend among ourselves. Hence it follows, of neces-
sity, that vast numbers of our people are compelled
to seek their livelihood by begging, robbing, steal-
ing, cheating, pimping, flattering, suborning, for-
swearing, forging, gaming,
swearing, forging, gaming, lying, fawning, hector-
ing, voting, scribbling, star-gazing, poisoning, whor-
ing, canting, libelling, free-thinking, and the like
occupations:" every one of which terms I was at
much pains to make him understand.
"That wine was not imported among us from
foreign countries to supply the want of water or
other drinks, but because it was a sort of liquid which
made us merry, by putting us out of our senses, di-
verted all melancholy thoughts, begat wild, extrava-
gant imaginations in the brain, raised our hopes and
banished our fears, suspended every office of reason
for a time, and deprived us of the use of our limbs,
till we fell into a profound sleep; although it must
be confessed that we always awaked sick and dis-
pirited, and that the use of this liquor filled us with
diseases which made our lives uncomfortable and
short.
"But, beside all this, the bulk of our people sup-
ported themselves by furnishing the necessities or
conveniences of life to the rich, and to each other.
For instance, when I am at home, and dressed as I
ought to be, I carry on my body the workmanship
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
69
of a hundred tradesmen, the building and furniture
of my house employ as many more, and five times
the number to adorn my wife."
But
I was going on to tell him of another sort of peo-
ple who get their livelihood by attending the sick,
having, upon some occasions, informed his honour
that many of my crew had died of diseases.
here it was with the utmost difficulty that I brought
him to apprehend what I meant. "He could easily
conceive that a Houyhnhnm grew weak and heavy
a few days before his death, or, by some accident,
might hurt a limb; but that nature, who works all
things to perfection, should suffer any pains to breed
in our bodies, he thought impossible, and desired to
know the reason of so unaccountable an evil.”
I told him "we fed on a thousand things which
operated contrary to each other; that we ate when
we were not hungry, and drank without the provo-
cation of thirst; that we sat whole nights drinking
strong liquors, without eating a bit, which disposed
us to sloth, inflamed our bodies, and precipitated or
prevented digestion; that prostitute female Yahoos
acquired a certain malady, which bred rottenness in
the bones of those who fell into their embraces; that
this and many other diseases, were propagated from
father to son, so that great numbers come into the
world with complicated maladies upon them; that
it would be endless to give him a catalogue of all
diseases incident to human bodies, for they could
not be fewer than five or six hundred, spread over
every limb and joint; in short, every part, external
and intestine, having diseases appropriated to itself.
To remedy which, there was a sort of people bred
up among us in the profession, or pretence, of
curing the sick. And, because I had some skill in
the faculty, I would, in gratitude to his honour, let
him know the whole mystery and method by which
they proceed.
"Their fundamental is, that all diseases arise from
repletion, whence they conclude, that a great evacu-
ation of the body is necessary, either through the
natural passage, or upwards at the mouth. Their
next business is from herbs, minerals, gums, oils,
shells, salts, juices, sea-weed, excrements, barks of
trees, serpents, toads, frogs, spiders, dead men's flesh
and bones, birds, beasts, and fishes, to form a com-
position, for smell and taste, the most abominable,
nauseous, and detestable, they can possibly contrive,
which the stomach immediately rejects with loath-
ing, and this they call a vomit; or else, from the same
store-house, with some other poisonous additions,
they command us to take in at the orifice above or
below (just as the physician then happens to be
disposed) a medicine equally annoying and disgust-
ful to the bowels, which, relaxing the belly, drives
down all before it; and this they call a purge, or a
clyster. For nature (as the physicians allege) having
intended the superior anterior orifice only for the
intromission of solids and liquids, and the inferior
posterior for ejection, these artists, ingeniously con-
sidering that in all diseases nature is forced out of
her seat, therefore, to replace her in it, the body
must be treated in a manner directly contrary, by
interchanging the use of each orifice, forcing solids
and liquids in at the anus, and making evacuations
at the mouth.
"But, besides real diseases, we are subject to
many that are only imaginary, for which the physi-
cians have invented imaginary cures: these have
their several names, and so have the drugs that are
proper for them; and with these our female Yahoos
are always infested.
"One great excellency in this tribe is their skill
at prognostics, wherein they seldom fail; their pre-
|
dictions in real diseases, when they rise to any de-
gree of malignity, generally portending death, which
is always in their power, when recovery is not; and
therefore, upon any unexpected signs of amendment,
after they have pronounced their sentence, rather
than be accused as false prophets, they know how to
approve their sagacity to the world, by a seasonable
dose.
"They are likewise of special use to husbands
and wives who are grown weary of their mates, to
eldest sons, to great ministers of state, and often to
princes.”
I had formerly, upon occasion, discoursed with
my master upon the nature of government in gene-
ral, and particularly of our own excellent constitution,
deservedly the wonder and envy of the whole world.
But having here accidentally mentioned a minister
of state, he commanded me, some time after, to in-
form him "what species of Yahoo I particularly
meant by that appellation."
I told him "that a first or chief minister of state,
who was the person I intended to describe, was a
creature wholly exempt from joy and grief, love and
hatred, pity and anger; at least, makes use of no
other passions but a violent desire of wealth, power,
and titles; that he applies his words to all uses,
except to the indication of his mind; that he never
tells a truth but with an intent that you should take
it for a lie; nor a lie, but with a design that you
should take it for a truth; that those he speaks
worst of behind their backs are in the surest way of
preferment; and whenever he begins to praise you
to others, or to yourself, you are from that day for-
lorn. The worst mark you can receive is a promise,
especially when it is confirmed with an oath; after
which every wise man retires, and gives over all
hopes.
66
There are three methods by which a man may
rise to be chief minister. The first is, by knowing
how, with prudence, to dispose of a wife, a daugh-
ter, or a sister; the second, by betraying or under-
mining his predecessor; and the third is, by a furi-
ous zeal in public assemblies, against the corruptions
of the court. But a wise prince would rather choose
to employ those who practise the last of these methods;
because such zealots prove always the most obsequi-
ous and subservient to the will and passions of their
master. That these ministers, having all employ-
ments at their disposal, preserve themselves in power
by bribing the majority of a senate or great council;
and at last, by an expedient called an act of indem-
nity (whereof I described the nature to him), they
secure themselves from after-reckonings, and retire
from the public laden with the spoils of the nation.
"The palace of chief minister is a seminary to
breed up others in his own trade: the pages, lackeys,
and porter, by imitating their master, become minis-
ters of state in their several districts, and learn to
excel in the three principal ingredients of insolence,
lying, and bribery. Accordingly, they have a sub-
altern court paid to them by persons of the best
rank; and sometimes by the force of dexterity and
impudence, arrive, through several gradations, to be
successors to their lord.
"He is usually governed by a decayed wench, or
favourite footman, who are the tunnels through
which all graces are conveyed, and may properly
be called, in the last resort, the governors of the
kingdom."
One day, in discourse, my master having heard
me mention the nobility of my country, was pleased
to make me a compliment which I could not pretend
to deserve: "That he was sure I must have been
born of some noble family, because I far exceeded
70
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
was
in shape, colour, and cleanliness, all the Yahoos of
his nation, although I seemed to fail in strength and
agility, which must be imputed to my different way
of living from those other brutes; and besides,
not only endowed with the faculty of speech, but
likewise with some rudiments of reason, to a degree
that, with all his acquaintance, I passed for a
prodigy."
"that
obscrve,
He made me
among the
Houyhnhnms, the white, the sorrel, and the iron-
gray were not so exactly shaped as the bay, the
dapple-gray, and the black; nor born with equal
talents of mind, or a capacity to improve them; and
therefore continue always in the condition of ser-
vants, without ever aspiring to match out of their
own race, which, in that country, would be reckoned
monstrous and unnatural."
I made his honour my most humble acknowledg-
ments for the good opinion he was pleased to con-
ceive of me, but assured him, at the same time,
"that my birth was of the lower sort, having been
born of plain honest parents, who were just able to
give me a tolerable education; that nobility among
us was altogether a different thing from the idea he
had of it; that our young noblemen are bred from
their childhood in idleness and luxury; that as soon
as years will permit, they consume their vigour, and
contract odious diseases among lewd females; and
when their fortunes are almost ruined, they marry
some woman of mean birth, disagreeable person,
and unsound constitution (merely for the sake of
money,) whom they hate and despise; that the pro-
ductions of such marriages are generally scrofulous,
rickety, or deformed children; by which means the
family seldom continues above three generations,
unless the wife takes care to provide a healthy
father, among her neighbours or domestics, in order
to improve and continue the breed; that a weak,
diseased body, a meagre countenance, and sallow
complexion, are the true marks of noble blood; and
a healthy, robust appearance is so disgraceful in a
man of quality, that the world concludes his real
father to have been a groom or a coachman. The
imperfections of his mind run parallel with those of
his body, being a composition of spleen, dulness,
ignorance, caprice, sensuality, and pride.
"Without the consent of this illustrious body, no
law can be enacted, repealed, or altered: and these
nobles have likewise the decision of all our posses-
sions, without appeal."
CHAPTER VII.
The author's great love of his native country, His master's
observations upon the constitution and administration of
England, as described by the author, with parallel cases
and comparisons. IIis master's observations upon human
nature.
THE reader may be disposed to wonder how I could
prevail on myself to give so free a representation of
my own species, among a race of mortals who are
already too apt to conceive the vilest opinion of
human kind, from that entire congruity between me
and their Yahoos. But I must freely confess, that the
many virtues of those excellent quadrupeds, placed
in opposite view to human corruptions, had so far
opened my eyes and enlarged my understanding,
that I began to view the actions and passions of man
in a very different light, and to think the honour of
my own kind not worth managing; which, besides, it
was impossible for me to do, before a person of so
acute a judgment as my master, who daily convinced
me of a thousand faults in myself, whereof I had not
the least perception before, and which, with us,
would never be numbered, even among human in-
firmities. I had likewise learned, from his example,
an utter detestation of all falsehood or disguise; and
truth appeared so amiable to me, that I determined
upon sacrificing everything to it.
Let me deal so candidly with the reader, as to
confess that there was yet a much stronger motive for
the freedom I took in my representation of things.
I had not yet been a year in this country, before I
contracted such a love and veneration for the inha-
bitants, that I entered on a firm resolution never to
return to human kind, but to
return to human kind, but to pass the rest of my life
among these admirable Houyhnhnms, in the contem-
plation and practice of every virtue, where I could
have no example or incitement to vice. But it was
decreed by fortune, my perpetual enemy, that so
great a felicity should not fall to my share. How-
ever, it is now some comfort to reflect, that in what
I said of my countrymen, I extenuated their faults.
as much as I durst before so strict an examiner, and
upon every article gave as favourable a turn as the
matter would bear. For, indeed, who is there alive
that will not be swayed by his bias and partiality to
the place of his birth?
I have related the substance of several conversa-
tions I had with my master during the greatest part
of the time I had the honour to be in his service, but
have, indeed, for brevity-sake, omitted much more
than is here set down.
When I had answered all his questions, and his
curiosity seemed to be fully satisfied, he sent for me
one morning early, and commanded me to sit down
at some distance (an honour which he had never
before conferred upon me). He said, "he had been
very seriously considering my whole story, as far as
it related both to myself and my country; that he
looked upon us as a sort of animals, to whose share,
by what accident he could not conjecture, some small
pittance of reason had fallen, whereof we made no
other use, than, by its assistance, to aggravate our
natural corruptions, and to acquire new ones, which
Nature had not given us; that we disarmed ourselves
of the few abilities she had bestowed, had been
very successful in multiplying our original wants,
and seemed to spend our whole lives in vain endea-
vours to supply them by our own inventions; that
as to myself, it was manifest I had neither the
strength nor agility of a common Yahoo; that I
walked infirmly on my hinder feet, had found out a
contrivance to make my claws of no use or defence,
and to remove the hair from my chin, which was in-
tended as a shelter from the sun and the weather.
Lastly, that I could neither run with speed, nor
climb trees like my brethren," as he called them,
"the Yahoos in his country.
"That our institutions of government and law
were plainly owing to our gross defects in reason,
and by consequence in virtue; because reason alone
is sufficient to govern a rational creature; which
was, therefore, a character we had no pretence to
challenge, even from the account I had given of my
own people; although he manifestly perceived, that,
in order to favour them, I had concealed many par-
ticulars, and often said the thing which was not.
"He was the more confirmed in this opinion, be-
cause, he observed, that, as I agreed in every feature
of my body with other Yahoos, except where it was
to my real disadvantage in point of strength, speed,
and activity, the shortness of my claws, and some
other particulars where nature had no part; so, from
the representation I had given him of our lives, our
manners, and our actions, he found as near a resem-
blance in the disposition of our minds." He said,
"the Yahoos were known to hate one another more
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
71
because the plaintiff and defendant there lost nothing
besides the stone they contended for, whereas our
courts of equity would never have dismissed the
cause, while cither of them had anything left.
My master, continuing his discourse, said, "there
was nothing that rendered the Yahoos more odious
than their undistinguishing appetite to devour every-
thing that came in their way, whether herbs, roots,
berries, the corrupted flesh of animals, or all mingled
together: and it was peculiar in their temper, that
they were fonder of what they could get by rapine
or stealth, at a greater distance, than much better
food provided for them at home. If their prey held
out, they would eat till they were ready to burst;
after which nature had pointed out to them a certain
root that gave them a general evacuation.
than they did any different species of animals, and
the reason usually assigned was, the odiousness of
their own shapes, which all could see in the rest,
but not in themselves. He had, therefore, begun to
think it not unwise in us to cover our bodies, and
by that invention conceal many of our deformities
from each other, which would else be hardly sup-
portable. But he now found he had been mistaken,
and that the dissensions of those brutes in his coun-
try were owing to the same cause with ours, as I had
described them. For if," said he, "you throw among
five Yahoos as much food as would be sufficient for
fifty, they will, instead of eating peaceably, fall to-
gether by the ears, each single one impatient to have
all to itself, and therefore a servant was usually em-
ployed to stand by while they were feeding abroad,
and those kept at home were tied at a distance from
each other; that if a cow died of age or acci-
dent, before a Houyhnhnm could secure it for his
own Yahoos, those in the neighbourhood would
come in herds to seize it, and then would ensue
such a battle as I had described, with terrible wounds,
made by their claws, on both sides, although they
seldom were able to kill one another, for want of
such convenient instruments of death as we had in-
vented. At other times, the like battles have been
fought between the Yahoos of several neighbour-only animals in this country subject to any diseases;
hoods, without any visible cause; those of one dis-
trict watching all opportunities to surprise the next,
before they are prepared. But if they find their
project has miscarried, they return home, and, for
want of enemies, engage in what I call a civil war
among themselves.
"That in some fields of his country there are cer-
tain shining stones of several colours, whereof the
Yahoos are violently fond; and when part of these
stones is fixed in the earth, as it sometimes happens,
they will dig with their claws for whole days to get
them out; then carry them away, and hide them by
heaps in their kennels, but still looking round with
great caution, for fear their comrades should find out
their treasure." My master said, "he could never
discover the reason of this unnatural appetite, or
how these stones could be of any use to a Yahoo,
but now he believed it might proceed from the same
principle of avarice which I had ascribed to man-
kind: that he had once, by way of experiment, pri-
vately removed a heap of these stones from the
place where one of his Yahoos had buried it;
whereupon the sordid animal, missing his treasure,
by his loud lamenting brought the whole herd to
the place, there miserably howled, then fell to biting
and tearing the rest, began to pine away, would nei-
ther eat, nor sleep, nor work, till he ordered a ser-
vant privately to convey the stones into the same
hole, and hide them as before; which, when his
Yahoo had found, he presently recovered his spirits
and good humour, but took care to remove them to
a better hiding-place, and has ever since been a very
serviceable brute."
My master further assured me, which I also ob-
served myself, "that in the fields where the shining
stones abound, the fiercest and most frequent battles
are fought, occasioned by perpetual inroads of the
neighbouring Yahoos."
He said, "It was common, when two Yahoo dis-
covered such a stone in a field, and were contending
which of them should be the proprietor, a third would
take the advantage, and carry it away from them
both," which my master would needs contend to
have some kind of resemblance with our suits at
law; wherein I thought it for our credit not to un-
deceive him, since the decision he mentioned was
much more equitable than many decrees among us;
"There was also another kind of root, very juicy,
but somewhat rare and difficult to be found, which
the Yahoos sought for with much eagerness, and
would suck it with great delight: it produced in
them the same effects that wine has upon us. It
would make them sometimes hug, and sometimes
tear one another: they would howl, and grin, and
chatter, and reel, and tumble, and then fall asleep
in the mud."
I did indeed observe that the Yahoos were the
which, however, were much fewer than horses have
among us, and contracted, not by any ill treatment
they meet with, but by the nastiness and greediness
of that sordid brute. Neither has their language
any more than a general appellation for those mala-
dies, which is borrowed from the name of the beast,
and called hneayahoo or Yahoo's evil, and the cure
prescribed is a mixture of their own dung and urine,
forcibly put down the Yahoo's throat. This I have
since often known to have been taken with success,
and do here freely recommend it to my countrymen,
for the public good, as an admirable specific against
all diseases produced by repletion.
"As to learning, government, arts, manufactures,
and the like," my master confessed, "he could find
little or no resemblance between the Yahoos of that
country and those in ours; for he only meant to ob-
serve what parity there was in our natures. He had
heard, indeed, some curious Houyhnhnms observe,
that in most herds there was a sort of ruling Yahoo,
(as among us there is generally some leading or
principal stag in a park,) who was always more de-
formed in body, and mischievous in disposition, than
any of the rest; that this leader had usually a fa-
vourite as like himself as he could get, whose em-
ployment was to lick his master's feet and posteriors,
and drive the female Yahoos to his kennel [flattery
and pimping]; for which he was now and then re-
warded with a piece of ass's flesh. This favourite
is hated by the whole herd, and therefore, to protect
himself, keeps always near the person of his leader.
He usually continues in office till a worse can be
found; but the very moment he is discarded, his suc-
cessor, at the head of all the Yahoos in that district,
young and old, male and female, come in a body,
and discharge their excrements upon him, from head
to foot. But how far this might be applicable to
our courts, and favourites, and ministers of state, my
master said I could best determine."
I durst make no return to this malicious insinua-
tion, which debased human understanding below the
sagacity of a common hound, who has judgment
enough to distinguish and follow the cry of the
ablest dog in the pack, without being ever mis-
taken.
My master told me "there were some qualities re-
markable in the Yahoos, which he had not observed
72
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS
me to mention, or at least very slightly, in the ac-
counts I had given him of human kind." He said,
"those animals, like other brutes, had their females.
in common; but in this they differed, that the she
Yahoo would admit the males while she was preg-
nant;
and that the hes would quarrel and fight
with the females, as fiercely as with each other;
both which practices were such degrees of infamous
brutality, as no other sensitive creature
arrived at.
ever
"Another thing he wondered at in the Yahoos,
was their strange disposition to nastiness and dirt;
whereas there appears to be a natural love of clean-
liness in all other animals." As to the two former
accusations, I was glad to let them pass without any
reply, because I had not a word to offer upon them
in defence of my species, which otherwise I cer-
tainly had done from my own inclinations. But I
could have easily vindicated human kind from the
imputation of singularity upon the last article, if
there had been any swine in that country, (as, un-
luckily for me, there were not), which although it
may be a sweeter quadruped than a Yahoo, cannot,
I humbly conceive, in justice, pretend to more
cleanliness; and so his honour himself must have
owned, if he had seen their filthy way of feeding,
and their custom of wallowing and sleeping in the
mud.
He said,
My master likewise mentioned another quality
which his servants had discovered in several Yahoos,
and to him was wholly unaccountable. He said,
"a fancy would sometimes take a Yahoo to retire
into a corner to lie down, and howl, and groan, and
spurn away all that came near him, although he
were young and fat, wanted neither food nor water;
nor did the servant imagine what could possibly
ail him. And the only remedy they found was, to
set him to hard work, after which he would infalli-
bly come to himself." To this I was silent, out of
partiality to my own kind; yet here I could plainly
discover the true seeds of spleen, which only seizes
on the lazy, the luxurious, and the rich; who, if
they were forced to undergo the same regimen, I
would undertake for the cure.
His honour had further observed, "that a female
Yahoo would often stand behind a bank or a bush,
to gaze on the young males passing by, and then ap-
pear, and hide, using many antic gestures and
grimaces; at which time it was observed that she
had a most offensive smell; and when any of the
males advanced, would slowly retire looking often
back, and with a counterfeit show of fear, run off
into some convenient place where she knew the
male would follow her.
"At other times, if a female stranger came among
them, three or four of her own sex would get about
her and stare, and chatter, and grin, and smell her
all over, and then turn off with gestures that seemed
to express contempt and disdain."
Perhaps my master might refine a little in these
speculations which he had drawn from what he ob-
served himself, or had been told him by others;
however, I could not reflect without some amaze-
ment, and much sorrow, that the rudiments of
that the rudiments of
lewdness, coquetry, censure, and scandal, should
have place by instinct in womankind.
I expected every moment that my master would
accuse the Yahoos of those unnatural appetites in
both sexes, so common among us. But Nature, it
seems, has not been so expert a school-mistress;
and these politer pleasures are entirely the produc-
tions of Art and Reason on our side of the globe.
CHAPTER VIII.
gave
The author relates several particulars of the Yahoos. The
great virtues of the Houyhnhnms, The education and ex-
ercise of their youth. Their general assembly.
As I ought to have understood human nature much
better than I supposed it possible for my master to
do, so it was easy to apply the character he of
the Yahoos to myself and my countrymen; and I
believed I could yet make further discoveries from
my own observation. I therefore often begged his
honour to let me go among the herds of Yahoos in
the neighbourhood; to which he always very gra-
ciously consented, being perfectly convinced that
the hatred I bore these brutes would never suffer
me to be corrupted by them; and his honour
ordered one of his servants a strong sorrel nag, very
honest and good-natured, to be my guard; without
whose protection I durst not undertake such adven-
tures; for I have already told the reader how much
I was pestered by these odious animals upon my
first arrival; and I afterward failed very narrowly
three or four times of falling into their clutches,
when I happened to stray at any distance without
my hanger. And I have reason to believe they had
some imagination that I was of their own species;
which I often assisted myself by stripping up my
sleeves and showing my naked arms and breasts in
their sight, when my protector was with me. At
which times they would approach as near as they
durst and imitate my actions, after the manner of
monkeys, but ever with great signs of hatred; as a
tame jackdaw with cap and stockings, is always per-
secuted by the wild ones when he happens to be got
among them.
They are prodigiously nimble from their infancy.
male of three
However, I once caught a young
years old, and endeavoured by all marks of tender-
ness to make it quiet; but the little imp fell a
squalling, and scratching, and biting with such vio-
go; and it was high
lence that I was forced to let it
time; for a whole troop of old ones came about us
at the noise; but finding the cub was safe, (for
away it ran,) and my sorrel nag being by, they
durst not venture near us. I observed the young
animal's flesh to smell very rank, and the stink was
somewhat between a weasel and a fox, but much
more disagreeable. I forgot another circumstance,
(and perhaps, I might have the reader's pardon if it
were wholly omitted,) that while I held the odious
vermin in my hands, it voided its filthy excrements
of a yellow liquid substance all over my clothes;
but by good fortune there was a small brook hard
by, where I washed myself as clean as I could, al-
though I durst not come into my master's presence
until I were sufficiently aired.
By what I could discover, the Yahoos appear to
be the most unteachable of all animals; their capa-
cities never reaching higher than to draw or carry
burdens. Yet I am of opinion this defect arises
chiefly from a perverse, restive disposition; for they
are cunning, malicious, treacherous, and revenge-
ful. They are strong and hardy, but of a cowardly
spirit, and by consequence insolent, abject, and
cruel. It is observed, that the red haired of both
sexes are more libidinous and mischievous than the
rest, whom yet they much exceed in strength and
activity.
The Houyhnhnms keep the Yahoos for present use
in huts not far from the house; but the rest are
sent abroad to certain fields where they dig up
roots, eat several kinds of herbs, and search about
for carrion, or sometimes catch weasels and luhimuhs,
(a sort of wild rat,) which they greedily devour.
Nature has taught them to dig deep holes with their
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
73
nails on the side of a rising ground, wherein they
lie by themselves; only the kennels of the females
are larger, sufficient to hold two or three cubs.
They swim from their infancy like frogs, and are
able to continue long under water, where they often
take fish, which the females carry home to their
young. And upon this occasion I hope the reader
will pardon my relating an odd adventure.
Being one day abroad with my protector, the
sorrel nag, and the weather exceeding hot, I en-
treated him to let me bathe in a river that was near.
He consented, and I immediately stript myself
stark naked, and went down softly into the stream.
It happened that a young female Yahoo, standing
behind a bank, saw the whole proceeding, and in-
flamed by desire, as the nag and I conjectured, came
running with all speed and leaped into the water,
within five yards of the place where I bathed. I
was never in my life so terribly frightened. The
nag was grazing at some distance, not suspecting
any harm.
She embraced me after a most fulsome
manner. I roared as loud as I could, and the nag
came galloping towards me, whereupon she quitted
her grasp with the utmost reluctancy, and leaped
upon the opposite bank, where she stood gazing
and howling all the time I was putting on my clothes.
This was a matter of diversion to my master and
his family, as well as of mortification to myself; for
now I could no longer deny that I was a real Yahoo
in every limb and feature, since the females had a
natural propensity to me as one of their own species.
Neither was the hair of this brute of a red colour,
(which might have been some excuse for an appetite
a little irregular,) but black as a sloe, and her coun-
tenance did not make an appearance altogether so
hideous as the rest of her kind; for I think she
could not be above eleven years old.
Having lived three years in this country, the
reader, I suppose, will expect that I should, like
other travellers, give him some account of the man-
ners and customs of its inhabitants, which it was
indeed my principal study to learn.
As these noble Houyhnhnms are endowed by
nature with a general disposition to all virtues, and
have no conceptions or ideas of what is evil in a
rational creature, so their grand maxim is, to culti-
vate reason, and to be wholly governed by it.
Neither is reason among them a point problematical
as with us, where men can argue with plausibility
on both sides of the question, but strikes you with
immediate conviction, as it must needs do, where it
is not mingled, obscured, or discoloured, by passion
and interest. I remember it was with extreme
difficulty that I could bring my master to under-
stand the meaning of the word opinion, or how a
point could be disputable; because reason taught us
to affirm or deny only where we are certain; and
beyond our knowledge we cannot do either: so that
controversies, wranglings, disputes, and positiveness,
in false or dubious propositions, are evils unknown
among the Houyhnhnms. In the like manner, when
I used to explain to him our several systems of na-
tural philosophy, he would laugh, "that a creature
pretending to reason should value itself upon the
knowledge of other people's conjectures, and in
things where that knowledge, if it were certain,
could be of no use.' Wherein he agreed entirely
with the sentiments of Socrates, as Plato delivers
them; which I mention as the highest honour I can
do to that prince of philosophers. I have often
since reflected what destruction such doctrine would
make in the libraries of Europe, and how many
paths of fame would be then shut up in the learned
world.
Friendship and benevolence are the two principal
virtues among the Houyhnhnms, and these not con-
fined to particular objects, but universal to the
whole race; for a stranger from the remotest part
is equally treated with the nearest neighbour, and
wherever he goes looks upon himself as at home.
They preserve decency and civility in the highest
degrees, but are altogether ignorant of ceremony.
They have no fondness for their colts or foals, but
the care they take in educating them proceeds en-
tirely from the dictates of reason. And I observed
my master to show the same affection to his neigh-
bour's issue that he had for his own. They will
have it that nature teaches them to love the whole
species, and it is reason only that makes a distinc-
tion of persons, where there is a superior degree of
virtue.
When the matron Houyhnhnms have produced
one of each sex, they no longer accompany with
their consorts, except they lose one of their issue by
some casualty, which very seldom happens; but in
such a case they meet again; or when the like acci-
dent befalls a person whose wife is past bearing,
some other couple bestow on him one of their own
colts, and then go together again until the mother is
pregnant. This caution is necessary to prevent the
country from being overburdened with numbers.
But the race of inferior Houyhnhnms, bred up to be
servants, is not so strictly limited upon this article ;
these are allowed to produce three of each sex, to be
domestics in the noble families.
In their marriages they are exactly careful to
choose such colours as will not make any disagree-
able mixture in the breed. Strength is chiefly va-
lued in the male, and comeliness in the female; not
upon the account of love, but to preserve the race
from degenerating; for where a female happens to
excel in strength, a consort is chosen with regard to
comeliness.
Courtship, love, presents, jointures, settlements,
have no place in their thoughts, or terms whereby
to express them in their language. The young cou-
ple meet and are joined, merely because it is the
determination of their parents and friends; it is
what they see done every day, and they look upon
it as one of the necessary actions of a reasonable
being. But the violation of marriage, or any other
unchastity, was never heard of; and the married
pair pass their lives with the same friendship and
mutual benevolence that they bear to all others of
the same species who come in their way, without
jealousy, fondness, quarrelling, or discontent.
In educating the youth of both sexes, their me-
thod is admirable, and highly deserves our imitation.
These are not suffered to taste a grain of oats, ex-
cept upon certain days till eighteen years old; nor
milk, but very rarely; and in summer they graze
two hours in the morning and as many in the even-
ing, which their parents likewise observe: but the
servants are not allowed above half that time, and a
great part of their grass is brought home, which they
eat at the most convenient hours, when they can be
best spared from work.
Temperance, industry, exercise and cleanliness,
are the lessons equally enjoined to the young ones
of both sexes, and my master thought it monstrous
in us to give the females a different kind of educa-
tion from the males, except in articles of domestic
management; whereby, as he truly observed, one
half of our natives were good for nothing but bring-
ing children into the world; and to trust the care
of our children to such useless animals, he said, was
yet a greater instance of brutality.
But the Houyhnhnms train up their youth to
74
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
strength, speed, and hardiness, by exercising them
in running races up and down steep hills, and over
hard stony grounds; and when they are all in a
sweat, they are ordered to leap over head and ears
into a pond or river. Four times a year the youth
of a certain district meet to show their proficiency
in running and leaping, and other feats of strength
and agility, where the victor is rewarded with a
song in his or her praise. On this festival the ser-
vants drive a herd of Yahoos into the field, laden
with hay, and oats, and milk, for a repast to the
Houyhnhnms; after which these brutes are imme-
diately driven back again, for fear of being noisome
to the assembly.
Every fourth year at the vernal equinox, there is
a representative council of the whole nation, which
meets in a plain about twenty miles from our house,
and continues about five or six days. Here they
inquire into the state and condition of the several
districts; whether they abound or be deficient in
hay or oats, or cows or Yahoos? and wherever there
is any want, (which is but seldom) it is immediately
supplied by unanimous consent and contribution.
Here likewise the regulation of children is settled;
as for instance, if a Ïlouyhnhnm has two males, he
changes one of them with another that has two
females; and when a child has been lost by any
casualty where the mother is past breeding, it is
determined what family in the district shall breed
another to supply the loss.
CHAPTER IX.
A grand debate at the general assembly of the Houyhnhnms,
and how it was determined. The learning of the Houy-
huhnms. Their buildings. Their manner of burials. The
defectiveness of their language.
ONE of these grand assemblies was held in my
time, about three months before my departure, whi-
ther my master went as the representative of our
district. In this council was resumed their old de-
bate, and indeed the only debate that ever happened
in their country; whereof my master after his
return gave me a very particular account.
He
The question to be debated was, "Whether the
Yahoos should be exterminated from the face of the
earth?" One of the members for the affirmative
offered several arguments of great strength and
of great strength and
weight, alleging, "that as the Yahoos were the
most filthy, noisome, and deformed animals which
nature ever produced, so they were the most restive
and indocible, mischievous and malicious. They
would privately suck the teats of the Houyhnhnms'
cows, kill and devour their cats, trample down their
oats and grass if they were not continually watched,
and commit a thousand other extravagancies."
took notice of a general tradition, "that Yahoos had
not been always in their country, but that many
ages ago two of these brutes appeared together upon
a mountain; ; whether produced by the heat of the
sun upon corrupted mud and slime, or from the
ooze and froth of the sea, was never known: that
these Yahoos engendered, and their brood in a short
time grew so numerous as to overrun and infest the
whole nation: that the Houyhnhnms, to get rid of
this evil made a general hunting, and at last enclosed
the whole herd; and destroying the elder, every
elder, every
Houyhnhnm kept two young ones in a kennel, and
brought them to such a degree of tameness, as an
animal so savage by nature can be capable of ac-
quiring; using them for draught and carriage: that
there seemed to be much truth in this tradition, and
that those creatures could not be yinhniamshy, (or
aborigines of the land,) because of the violent hatred
the Houyhnhnms as well as all other animals bore
|
them; which although their evil disposition suffi-
ciently deserved, could never have arrived at so
high a degree if they had been aborigines; or else
they would have long since been rooted out: that
the inhabitants, taking a fancy to use the service of
the Yahoos, had very imprudently neglected to cul-
tivate the breed of asses, which are a comely animal,
easily kept, more tame and orderly, without any
offensive smell; strong enough for labour, although
they yield to the other in agility of body; and if
their braying be no agreeable sound, it is far pre-
ferable to the horrible howlings of the Yahoos."
He
Several others declared their sentiments to the
same purpose, when my master proposed an expe-
dient to the assembly, whereof he had indeed bor-
rowed the hint from me. "He approved of the
tradition mentioned by the honourable member who
spoke before, and affirmed that the two Yahoos, said
to be the first seen among them, had been driven
thither over the sea; that coming to land and being
forsaken by their companions, they retired to the
mountains, and degenerating by degrees, became in
process of time much more savage than those of
their own species in the country whence these two
originals came. The reason of this assertion was,
that he had now in his possession a certain wonder-
ful Yahoo, (meaning myself,) which most of them
had heard of, and many of them had seen.
then related to them how he first found me; that
my body was all covered with an artificial compo-
sure of the skins and hairs of other animals; that I
spoke in a language of my own, and had thoroughly
learned theirs; that I had related to him the acci-
dents which brought me thither; that when he saw
me without my covering, I was an exact Yahoo in
every part, only of a whiter colour, less hairy, and
with shorter claws. He added how I had endea-
voured to persuade him, that in my own and other
countries, the Yahoos acted as the governing, ra-
tional animal, and held the Houyhnhnms in servi-
tude; that he observed in me all the qualities of a
Yahoo, only a little more civilized by some tincture
of reason; which however, was in a degree as far
inferior to the Houyhnhnm race, as the Yahoos of
their country were to me; that among other things,
I mentioned a custom we had of castrating Houy-
hnhnms when they were young, in order to render
them tame; that the operation was easy and safe;
that it was no shame to learn wisdom from brutes,
as industry is taught by the ant, and building by the
swallow; (for so I translate the word lyhannh, al-
though it be a much larger fowl;) that this inven-
tion might be practised upon the younger Yahoos
here, which beside rendering them tractable and
fitter for use, would in an age, put an end to the
whole species without destroying life; that in the'
meantime the Houyhnhnms should be exhorted to
cultivate the breed of asses, which, as they are in all
respects more valuable brutes, so they have this ad-
vantage, to be fit for service at five years old, which
the others are not till twelve."
This was all my master thought fit to tell me at
that time, of what passed in the grand council. But
he was pleased to conceal one particular which re-
lated personally to myself, whereof I soon felt the
unhappy effect, as the reader will know in its proper
place, and whence I date all the succeeding mis-
fortunes of my life.
The Houyhnhnms have no letters, and conse-
quently their knowledge is all traditional; but there
happening few events of any moment among a
people so well united, naturally disposed to every
virtue, wholly governed by reason, and cut off from
all commerce with other nations, the historical part
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
75
is easily preserved without burdening their memo-
ries. I have already observed that they are subject
to no diseases, and therefore can have no need of
physicians. However, they have excellent medi-
cines, composed of herbs, to cure accidental bruises
and cuts in the pastern or frog of the foot, by sharp
stones, as well as other maims and hurts in the
several parts of the body.
They calculate the year by the revolution of the
sun and the moon, but use no subdivisions into
weeks. They are well enough acquainted with the
motions of those two luminaries, and understand the
nature of eclipses; and this is the utmost progress
of their astronomy.
In poetry they must be allowed to excel all other
mortals, wherein the justness of their similies and
the minuteness, as well as exactness of their de-
scriptions, are indeed inimitable.
Their verses
abound very much in both of these, and usually con-
tain either some exalted notions of friendship and
benevolence, or the praises of those who were vic-
tors in races and other bodily exercises. Their
buildings, although very rude and simple, are not
inconvenient but well contrived to defend them
from all injuries of cold and heat. They have a
kind of tree, which, at forty years old, loosens in the
root, and falls with the first storm: it grows very
straight, and, being pointed like stakes with a sharp
stone, (for the Houyhnhnms know not the use of
iron,) they stick them erect in the ground, about
ten inches asunder, and then weave in oat-straw, or
sometimes wattles between them. The roof is
made after the same manner and so are the doors.
The Houyhnhnms use the hollow part between
the pastern and the hoof of the fore-feet, as we do
our hands, and this with greater dexterity than I
could at first imagine. I have seen a white mare of
our family thread a needle (which I lent her on
purpose) with that joint. They milk their cows,
reap their oats, and do all the work which requires
hands in the same manner. They have a kind of
hard flints, which, by grinding against other stones,
they form into instruments that serve instead of
wedges, axes, and hammers. With tools made of
these flints, they likewise cut their hay and reap
their oats, which there grow naturally in several
fields; the Yahoos draw home their sheaves in car-
riages, and the servants tread them in certain covered
huts to get out the grain which is kept in stores.
They make a rude kind of earthen and wooden ves-
sels, and bake the former in the sun.
If they can avoid casualties, they die only of old
age, and are buried in the obscurest places that can
be found; their friends and relations expressing
neither joy nor grief at their departure; nor does
the dying person discover the least regret that he is
leaving the world, any more than if he were upon
returning home from a visit to one of his neighbours.
I remember my master having once made an ap-
pointment with a friend and his family to come to
his house upon some affair of importance; on the
day fixed, the mistress and her two children came
very late; she made two excuses; first for her hus-
band, who, as she said happened that very morning
to lhnuwnh. The word is strongly expressive in
their language, but not easily rendered into Eng-
lish. It signifies, "to retire to his first mother."
Her excuse for not coming sooner was, that her
husband dying late in the morning, she was a good
while consulting her servants about a convenient
place where his body should be laid; and I ob-
served she behaved herself at our house as cheer-
fully as the rest. She died about three months
after.
They live generally to seventy or seventy-five
years, very seldom to fourscore. Some weeks before
their death they feel a gradual decay, but without
pain. During this time they are much visited by
their friends, because they cannot go abroad with
their usual ease and satisfaction. However, about
ten days before their death, which they seldom fail
in computing, they return the visits that have been
made them by those who are nearest in the neigh-
bourhood, being carried in a convenient sledge
drawn by Yahoos; which vehicle they use, not only
upon this occasion, but when they grow old, upon
long journeys, or when they are lamed by any accident.
And therefore when the dying Houyhnhnms return
those visits, they take a solemn leave of their friends, as
if they were going to some remote part of the country,
where they designed to pass the rest of their lives.
I know not whether it may be worth observing,
that the Houyhnhnms have no word in their lan-
guage to express anything that is evil, except what
they borrow from the deformities cr ill qualities of
the Yahoos. Thus they denote the folly of a ser-
vant, an omission of a child, a stone that cuts their
feet, a continuance of foul or unseasonable weather,
and the like, by adding to each the epithet of Yahoo.
For instance-hhnm Yahoo, whnaholm Yahoo, ynlh-
mndwihlma Yahoo, and an ill-contrived house,
ynholmhnmrohlnw Yahoo.
I could, with great pleasure, enlarge further upon
the manners and virtues of this excellent people;
but intending in a short time to publish a volume
by itself, expressly upon that subject, I refer the
reader thither, and in the mean time proceed to re-
late my own sad catastrophe.
CHAPTER X.
The author's economy and happy life among the Houyhn
hnms. His great improvement in virtue, by conversing with
them. Their conversations. The author has notice given
him by his master, that he must depart from the country.
He falls into a swoon from grief, but submits. He contrives
and finishes a canoe by the help of a fellow-servant, and puts
to sea at a venture.
a
I HAD settled my little economy to my own heart's
content. My master had ordered a room to be
made for me, after their manner, about six yards
from the house, the sides and floors of which I plas-
tered with clay, and covered with rush-mats of my
own contriving. I had beaten hemp, which there
grows wild, and made of it a sort of ticking: this I
filled with the feathers of several birds I had taken
with springes made of Yahoos' hairs, and were ex-
cellent food. I had worked two chairs with my
knife, the sorrel nag helping me in the grosser and
more laborious part. When my clothes were worn
rabbits, and of a certain beautiful animal about the
to rags, I made myself others with the skins of
same size, called nnuhnoh, the skin of which is
covered with a fine down. Of these I also made
very tolerable stockings. I soled my shoes with
wood, which I cut from a tree and fitted to the
and when this was worn out,
upper leather;
I sup-
plied it with the skins of Yahoos dried in the sun.
mingled with water or ate with my bread. No man
I often got honey out of hollow trees, which I
could more verify the truth of these two maxims,
"That nature is very easily satisfied;" and, "That
necessity is the mother of invention." I enjoyed per-
fect health of body and tranquillity of mind; I did
not feel the treachery or inconstancy of a friend, nor
the injuries of a secret or open enemy; I had no
occasion of bribing, flattering, or pimping, to pro-
a The author has intentionally made use of inaccurate ex-
pression and studied negligence in order to make the style
more like that of a sea-faring man.
76
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
cure the favour of any great man or of his minion; I
wanted no fence against fraud or oppression; here
was neither physician to destroy my body nor lawyer
to ruin my fortune; no informer to watch my words
and actions or forge accusations against me for hire:
here were
no gibers, censurers, backbiters, pick-
pockets, highwaymen, housebreakers, attorneys,
bawds, buffoons, gamesters, politicians, wits, sple-
netics, tedious talkers, controvertists, ravishers,
murderers, robbers, virtuosoes; no leaders or fol-
lowers of party and faction; no encouragers to vice,
by seducement or examples; no dungeon, axes, gib-
bets, whipping-posts or pillories; no cheating shop-
keepers or mechanics; no pride, vanity, or affecta-
tion; no fops, bullies, drunkards, strolling whores,
or poxes; no ranting, lewd, expensive wives; no
stupid, proud pedants; no importunate, over-bear-
ing, quarrelsome, noisy, roaring, empty, conceited,
swearing companions; no scoundrels raised from the
dust upon the merit of their vices, or nobility thrown
into it on account of their virtues; no lords, fiddlers,
judges, or dancing-masters.
I had the favour of being admitted to several
Houyhnhnms who came to visit or dine with my
master, where his honour graciously suffered me to
wait in the room, and listen to their discourse.
Both he and his company would often descend to
ask me questions, and receive my answers. I had
also sometimes the honour of attending my master
in his visits to others. I never presumed to speak,
except in answer to a question; and then 1 did it
with inward regret, because it was a loss of so much
time for improving myself: but I was infinitely
delighted with the station of an humble auditor in
such conversations, where nothing passed but what
was useful, expressed in the fewest and most signi-
ficant words; where, as I have already said, the
greatest decency was observed, without the least
degree of ceremony; where no person spoke without
being pleased himself, and pleasing his companions;
where there was no interruption, tediousness, heat,
or difference of sentiments. They have a notion,
that when people are met together, a short silence
does much improve conversation: this I found to be
true; for during those little intermissions of talk,
new ideas would arise in their minds, which very
much enlivened the discourse. Their subjects are
generally on friendship and benevolence, on order
and economy; sometimes upon the visible opera-
tions of nature, or ancient traditions; upon the
bounds and limits of virtue; upon the unerring rules
of reason; or upon some determinations to be taken
at the next great assembly; and often upon the va-
rious excellencies of poetry. I may add, without
vanity, that my presence often gave them sufficient
matter for discourse, because it afforded my master
an occasion of letting his friends into the history of
me and my country, upon which they were all
pleased to descant, in a manner not very advantage-
ous to human kind; and for that reason I shall not
repeat what they said: only, I may be allowed to
observe, that his honour, to my great admiration,
appeared to understand the nature of Yahoos much
better than myself. He went through all our vices
and follies, and discovered many, which I had never
mentioned to him, by only supposing what qualities
a Yahoo of their country, with a small proportion
of reason, might be capable of exerting; and con-
cluded, with too much probability, "how vile, as well
as miserable, such a creature must be."
I freely confess, that all the little knowledge I
have, of any value, was acquired by the lectures I
received from my master, and from hearing the dis-
courses of him and his friends; to which I should
|
be prouder to listen, than to dictate to the greatest
and wisest assembly in Europe. I admired the
strength, comeliness, and speed of the inhabitants,
and such a constellation of virtues, in such amiable
persons, produced in me the highest veneration. At
first, indeed, I did not feel that natural awe which
the Yahoos, and all other animals, bear towards
them; but it grew upon me by degrees, much sooner
than I imagined, and was mingled with a respectful
love and gratitude, that they would condescend to
distinguish me from the rest of my species.
When I thought of my family, my friends, my
countrymen, or the human race in general, I consi-
dered them, as they really were, Yahoos in shape and
disposition, perhaps a little more civilized, and quali-
fied with the gift of speech, but making no other use
of reason than to improve and multiply those vices
whereof their brethren in this country had only the
share that nature allotted them. When I happened
to behold the reflection of my own form in a lake or
a fountain, I turned away my face in horror and de-
testation of myself, and could better endure the
sight of a common Yahoo, than of my own person.
By conversing with the Houyhnhnms, and looking
upon them with delight, I fell to imitate their gait
and gesture, which is now grown into a habit; and
my friends often tell me, in a blunt way,
"that I trot
like a horse," which, however, I take for a great com-
pliment. Neither shall I disown, that in speaking I
am apt to fall into the voice and manner of the
Houyhnhnms, and hear myself ridiculed on that ac-
count, without the least mortification.
In the midst of all this happiness, and when I
looked upon myself to be fully settled for life, my
master sent for me one morning a little earlier than
his usual hour. I observed by his countenance that
he was in some perplexity, and at a loss how to be-
gin what he had to speak. After a short silence, he
told me, "he did not know how I would take what
he was going to say. That in the last general as-
sembly, when the affair of the Yahoos was entered
upon, the representatives had taken offence at his
keeping a Yahoo (meaning myself) in his family,
more like a Houyhnhnm than a brute animal: that
he was known frequently to converse with me, as if
he could receive some advantage or pleasure in my
company; that such a practice was not agreeable to
reason or nature, or a thing ever heard of before
among them. The assembly did therefore exhort
him either to employ me like the rest of my species,
or command me to swim back to the place whence
I came. That the first of these expedients was ut-
terly rejected by all the Houyhnhnms who had ever
seen me at his house or their own; for they alleged,
that because I had some rudiments of reason added
to the natural pravity of those animals, it was to be
feared I might be able to seduce them into the
woody and mountainous parts of the country, and
bring them in troops by night to destroy the Houyhn-
hmms' cattle, as being naturally of the ravenous
kind, and averse from labour."
My master added, "That he was daily pressed by
the Houyhnhnms of the neighbourhood to have the
assembly's exhortation executed, which he could not
put off much longer. He doubted it would be im-
possible for me to swim to another country, and
therefore wished I would contrive some sort of ve-
hicle, resembling those I had described to him, that
might carry me on the sea; in which work I should
have the assistance of his own servants, as well as
those of his neighbours." He concluded, "That,
for his own part, he could have been content to keep
me in his service as long as I lived, because he
found I had cured myself of some bad habits and
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
77
dispositions, by endeavouring, as far as my inferior
nature was capable, to imitate the Houyhnhnms."
I should here observe to the reader, that a decree
of the general assembly in this country is expressed
by the word hnhloayn, which signifies an exhorta-
tion, as near as I can render it; for they have no
conception how a rational creature can be compelled,
but only advised or exhorted, because no person can
disobey reason, without giving up his claim to be-
ing a rational creature.
I was struck with the utmost grief and despair at
my master's discourse; and being unable to support
the agonies I was under, I fell into a swoon at his
feet. When I came to myself, he told me, "that he
concluded I had been dead; for these people are
subject to no such imbecilities of nature.
I an-
swered in a faint voice, "That death would have
been too great a happiness; that although I could
not blame the assembly's exhortation, or the urgency
of his friends, yet, in my weak and corrupt judg-|
ment, I thought it might consist with reason to have
been less rigorous; that I could not swim a league,
and probably the nearest land to theirs might be
distant above a hundred; that many materials, ne-
cessary for making a small vessel to carry me off,
were wholly wanting in this country; which, how-
ever I would attempt in obedience and gratitude to
his honour, although I concluded the thing to be
impossible, and therefore looked on myself as already
devoted to destruction; that the certain prospect of
an unnatural death was the least of my evils; for
supposing I should escape with life, by some strange
adventure, how could I think with temper of passing
my days among Yahoos, and relapsing into my old cor-
ruptions, for want of examples to lead and keep me
within the paths of virtue? that I knew too well
upon what solid reasons all the determinations of the
wise Houyhnhnms were founded, not to be shaken
by arguments of mine, a miserable Yahoo
; and
therefore, after presenting him with my humble
thanks for the offer of his servants' assistance in
making a vessel, and desiring a reasonable time for
so difficult a work, I told him I would endeavour to
preserve a wretched being; and if ever I returned to
England, was not without hopes of being useful to
my own species, by celebrating the praises of the re-
nowned Houyhnhnms, and proposing their virtues to
the imitation of mankind."
My master, in a few words, made me a very gra-
cious reply; allowed me the space of two months to
finish my boat; and ordered the sorrel nag, my fel-
low-servant, (for so, at this distance, I may presume
to call him) to follow my instructions; because I
told my master "that his help would be sufficient,
and I knew he had a tenderness for me.
In his company, my first business was to go to
that part of the coast where my rebellious crew had
ordered me to be set on shore. I got upon a height,
and looking on every side into the sea, fancied I saw
a small island toward the north-east. I took out my
pocket-glass, and could then clearly distinguish it,
about five leagues off, as I computed; but it ap-
peared to the sorrel nag to be only a blue cloud; for
as he had no conception of any country beside his
own, so he could not be as expert in distinguishing
remote objects at sea, as we who so much converse
in that element.
After I had discovered this island, I considered
no further, but resolved it should, if possible, be the
first place of my banishment, leaving the conse-
quence to fortune.
I returned home, and consulting with the sorrel
nag, we went into a copse at some distance, where I
with my knife, and he with a sharp flint, fastened
very artificially, after their manner, to a wooden hàn-
dle, cut down several oak wattles, about the thick-
ness of a walking-staff, and some larger pieces. But
I shall not trouble the reader with a particular de-
scription of my own mechanics; let it suffice to say,
that in six weeks' time, with the help of the sorrel
nag, who performed the parts that required most
labour, I finished a sort of Indian canoe, but much
larger, covering it with the skins of Yahoos, well
stitched together with hempen threads of my own
making. My sail was likewise composed of the
skins of the same animal; but I made use of the
youngest I could get, the older being too tough and
thick; and I likewise provided myself with four
paddles. I laid in a stock of boiled flesh, of rabbits
and fowls, and took with me two vessels, one filled
with milk, and the other with water.
I tried my canoe in a large pond near my master's
house, and then corrected in it what was amiss, stop-
ping all the chinks with Yahoos' tallow, till I found
it stanch, and able to bear me and my freight; and
when it was as complete as I could possibly make it,
I had it drawn on a carriage very gently by Yahoos
to the sea-side, under the conduct of the sorrel nag
and another servant.
When all was ready, and the day came for my de-
parture, I took leave of my master and lady and the
whole family-my eyes flowing with tears, and my
heart quite sunk with grief. But his honour, out of
curiosity, and perhaps (if I may speak it without
vanity) partly out of kindness, was determined to
see me in my canoe, and got several of his neigh-
bouring friends to accompany him. I was forced to
wait above an hour for the tide, and then, observing
the wind very fortunately bearing towards the island
to which I intended to steer my course, I took a
second leave of my master; but, as I was going to
prostrate myself to kiss his hoof, he did me the
honour to raise it gently to my mouth. I am not
ignorant how much I have been censured for men-
tioning this last particular. Detractors are pleased
to think it improbable that so illustrious a person
should descend to give so great a mark of distinction
to a creature so inferior as I. Neither have I for-
gotten how apt some travellers are to boast of extra-
ordinary favours they have received. But if these
censurers were better acquainted with the noble and
courteous disposition of the Houyhnhnms, they
would soon change their opinion.
I paid my respects to the rest of the Houyhnhnms
in his honour's company, then, getting into my
canoe, I pushed off from shore.
CHAPTER XI.
The author's dangerous voyage. He arrives at New Holland,
hoping to settle there. Is wounded with an arrow by one
of the natives. Is seized, and carried by force into a Portu-
guese ship. The great civilities of the captain. The author
arrives at England.
I BEGAN this desperate voyage on February 15,
1714-15, at nine o'clock in the morning. The wind
was very favourable: however, I made use at first
only of my paddles; but considering I should soon
be weary, and that the wind might chop about, I
ventured to set up my little sail; and thus, with
the help of the tide, I went at the rate of a league
and a half an hour, as near as I could guess. My
master and his friends continued on the shore till I
was almost out of sight; and I often heard the sorrel
nag (who always loved me) crying out, "Hnuy illa
nyha, majah Yahoo," "Take care of thyself, gentle
Yahoo."
My design was, if possible, to discover some small
island uninhabited, yet sufficient by my labour, to
78
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
was looking about for a secure landing-place, I saw
a sail to the north-north-cast, which appearing every
minute more visible, I was in some doubt whether I
should wait for them or not; but at last my detesta-
tion of the Yahoo race prevailed, and turning my
canoe, I sailed and paddled together to the south,
and got into the same creek whence I set out in the
furnish me with the necessarics of life, which I
would have thought a greater happiness than to be
first minister in the politest court of Europe; so
horrible was the idea I conceived of returning to
live in the society, and under the government of
Yahoos. For in such a solitude as I desired, I
could at least enjoy my own thoughts, and reflect
with delight on the virtues of those inimitable Houy-morning, choosing rather to trust myself among these
hnhnms, without any opportunity of degenerating
into the vices and corruptions of my own species.
The reader may remember what I related when
my crew conspired against me, and confined me to
my cabin; how I continued there several weeks,
without knowing what course we took; and when
I was put a shore in the long-boat, how the sailors
told me with oaths, whether true or false, "That
they knew not in what part of the world we were."
However, I did then believe us to be about 10 de-
grees southward of the Cape of Good Hope, or
about 45 degrees southern latitude, as I gathered
from some general words I overheard among them,
being, I supposed, to south-east in their intended
voyage to Madagascar. And although this were
little better than conjecture, yet I resolved to steer
my course eastward, hoping to reach the south-west
coast of New Holland, and perhaps some such
island as I desired, lying westward of it. The wind
was full west; and by six in the evening I computed
I had gone castward at least eighteen leagues, when
I spied a very small island about half a league off,
which I soon reached. It was nothing but a rock,
with one creck, naturally arched, by the force of
tempests. Here I put in my canoe, and climbing
a part of the rock, I could plainly discover land to
the east, extending from south to north. I lay all
night in my canoe, and repeating my voyage carly
in the morning, I arrived in seven hours to the south-
cast point of New Holland. This confirmed me
in the opinion I have long entertained, that the maps
and charts place this country at least three degrees
more to the cast than it really is; which thought I
communicated many years ago to my worthy friend
Mr. Herman Moll, and gave him my reasons for
it, although he has rather chosen to follow other
authors.
I saw no inhabitants in the place where I landed,
and being unarmed, I was afraid of venturing far
into the country. I found some shell-fish on the
shore, and ate them raw, not daring to kindle a fire,
for fear of being discovered by the natives. I con-
tinued three days feeding on oysters and limpets, to
save my own provision; and I fortunately found a
brook of excellent water, which gave me great relief.
On the fourth day, venturing out early a little too
far, I saw twenty or thirty natives upon a height,
not above five hundred yards from me. They were
stark naked, men, women, and children, round a
fire, as I could discover by the smoke. One of them
spied me, and gave notice to the rest; five of them
advanced toward me, leaving the women and chil-
dren at the fire. I made what haste I could to the
shore, and getting into my canoe, shoved off; the
savages observing me retreat, ran after me, and be-
fore I could get far enough into the sca, discharged
an arrow, which wounded me deeply on the inside
of my left kuce; I shall carry the mark to my grave.
I apprehended the arrow might be poisoned; and
paddling out of the reach of their darts, (being a
calm day), I made a shift to suck the wound, and
dress it as well as I could.
I was at a loss what to do: for I durst not return
to the same landing-place, but stood to the north,
and was forced to paddle; for the wind, though very
gentle, was against me, blowing north-west. As I
barbarians, than live with European Yahoos. I drew
up my canoe as close as I could to the shore, and
hid myself behind a stone by the little brook, which,
as I have already said, was excellent water.
The ship came within half a league of this creek,
and sent her long-boat with vessels to take in fresh
water; (for the place, it seems, was very well
known;) but I did not observe it, till the boat was
almost on shore, and it was too late to seek another
hiding-place. The seamen at their landing observed
my canoe, and rummaging it all over, easily conjec-
tured that the owner could not be far off. Four of
them well armed searched every cranny and lurking-
hole, till at last they found me, flat on my face, be-
hind the stone. They gazed awhile in admiration
at my strange uncouth dress; my coat made of
skins, my wooden-soled shoes, and my furred stock-
ings; whence, however, they concluded I was not
a native of the place, who all go naked. One of
the seamen, in Portuguese, bid me rise, and asked
who I was. I understood that language very well,
and getting upon my feet, said, "I was a poor
Yahoo, banished from the Houyhnhnms, and desired
they would please to let me depart." They admired
to hear me answer them in their own tongue, and
saw by my complexion I must be a European; but
were at a loss to know what I meant by Yahoos
and Houyhnhnms; and at the same time, fell a
laughing at my strange tone in speaking, which re-
sembled the neighing of a horse. I trembled all
the while, betwixt fear and hatred. I again desired
leave to depart, and was gently moving to my canoe;
but they laid hold of me, desiring to know "what
country I was of? whence I came?" with many
other questions. I told them "I was born in Eng-
land, whence I came about five years ago, and then
their country and ours were at peace. I therefore
hoped they would not treat me as an enemy, since
I meant them no harm, but was a poor Yahoo seek-
ing some desolate place where to pass the remainder
of his unfortunate life.”
When they began to talk, I thought I never heard
or saw anything so unnatural; for it appeared to me
as monstrous as if a dog or a cow should speak in
England, or a Yahoo in Houyhnhnmland. The
honest Portuguese were equally amazed at my
strange dress, and the odd manner of delivering my
words, which, however, they understood very well.
They spoke to me with great humanity, and said,
They were sure the captain would carry me gratis
to Lisbon, whence I might return to my own coun-
try; that two of the seamen would go back to the
ship, inform the captain of what they had seen, and
receive his orders; in the mean time, unless I would
give my solemn oath not to fly, they would secure
me by force." I thought it best to comply with
their proposal. They were very curious to know
my story, but I gave them very little satisfaction,
and they all conjectured that my misfortunes had
impaired my reason.
impaired my reason. In two hours, the boat, which
went loaden with vessels of water, returned with
the captain's command to fetch me on board. I fell
on my knees to preserve my liberty but all was in
vain; and the men, having tied me with cords,
heaved me into the boat, whence I was taken into
the ship, and thence into the captain's cabin.
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
79
His name was Pedro de Mendez; he was a very
courteous and generous person. He entreated me
to give some account of myself, and desired to know
what I would eat or drink; said, "I should be used
as well as himself;" and spoke so many obliging
things, that I wondered to find such civilities from
a Yahoo. However, I remained silent and sullen ;
I was ready to faint at the very sinell of him and his
men. At last I desired something to eat out of my
own canoe; but he ordered me a chicken, and some
excellent wine, and then directed that I should be
put to bed in a very clean cabin. I would not un-
dress myself, but lay on the bed-clothes, and in half
an hour stole out, when I thought the crew was at
dinner, and getting to the side of the ship, was going
to leap into the sea, and swim for my life, rather
than continue among Yahoos. But one of the sea-
men prevented me, and having informed the captain,
I was chained to my cabin.
After dinner Don Pedro came to me, and desired
to know my reason for so desperate an attempt; as-
sured me,
"he only meant to do me all the service
he was able;" and spoke so very movingly, that at
last I descended to treat him like an animal which |
had some little portion of reason. I gave him a very
short relation of my voyage; of the conspiracy
against me by my own men; of the country where
they set me on shore, and of my five years' residence
there. All which he looked upon as if it were a
dream or a vision; whereat I took great offence;
for I had quite forgot the faculty of lying, so peculiar
to Yahoos, in all countries where they preside, and
consequently the disposition of suspecting truth in
others of their own species. I asked him, "Whe-
ther it were the custom in his country to say the
thing which was not?" I assured him, "I had almost
forgot what he meant by falsehood, and if I had
lived a thousand years in Houyhnhnmland, I should
never have heard a lie from the meanest servant;
that I was altogether indifferent whether he believed
me or not: but, however, in return for his favours,
I would give so much allowance to the corruption
of his nature, as to answer any objection he would
please to make, and then he might easily discover
the truth."
The captain, a wise man, after many endeavours
to catch me tripping in some part of my story, at
last began to have a better opinion of my veracity.
But he added, "that since I professed so inviolable
an attachment to truth, I must give him my word.
and honour to bear him company in this voyage,
without attempting anything against my life; or
else he would continue me a prisoner till we arrived
at Lisbon." I gave him the promise he required;
but at the same time protested," that I would suffer
the greatest hardships, rather than return to live
among Yahoos.
Our voyage passed without any considerable ac-
cident. In gratitude to the captain, I sometimes
sat with him at his earnest request, and strove to
conceal my antipathy against humankind, although
it often broke out; which he suffered to pass with-
out observation. But the greatest part of the day I
confined myself to my cabin, to avoid seeing any of
the crew. The captain had often entreated me to
strip myself of my savage dress, and offered to lend
me the best suit of clothes he had. This I would
not be prevailed on to accept, abhorring to cover
myself with anything that had been on the back
of a Yahoo. I only desired he would lend me two
clean shirts, which having been washed since he
wore them, I believed would not so much defile me.
These I changed every second day, and washed them
myself.
At our
We arrived at Lisbon, Nov. 5, 1715.
landing the captain forced me to cover myself with
his cloak, to prevent the rabble from crowding about
me. I was conveyed to his own house; and at my
earnest request he led me up to the highest room
backwards. I conjured him to conceal from all per-
sons what I had told him of the IIouyhnhnms; be-
cause the least hiut of such a story would not only
draw numbers of people to see me, but probably put
me in danger of being imprisoned, or burnt by the
Inquisition. The captain
The captain persuaded me to accept
of a suit of clothes newly made; but I would not
suffer the tailor to take my measure; however, Don
Pedro being almost of my size, they fitted me well
enough. He accoutred me with other necessaries,
all new, which I aired for twenty-four hours, before
I would use them.
The captain had no wife, nor above three scrvants,
none of which were suffered to attend at meals; and
his whole deportment was so obliging, added to very
good human understanding, that I really began to
tolerate his company. He gained so far upon me,
that I ventured to look out of the back window.
By degrees I was brought into another room, whence
I peeped into the street, but drew my head back in
a fright. In a week's time he seduced me down to
the door. I found my terror gradually lessened, but
my hatred and contempt seemed to increase.
I was
at last bold enough to walk the street in his com-
pany, but kept my nose well stopped with rue, or
sometimes with tobacco.
It
In ten days, Don Pedro, to whom I had given
some account of my domestic affairs, put it upon me,
as a matter of honour and conscience, "that I ought
to return to my native country, and live at home with
my wife and children."
He told me there was an
English ship in the port just ready to sail, and he
would furnish me with all things necessary.
would be tedious to repeat his arguments and my
contradictions. He said, "it was altogether impos-
sible to find such a solitary island as I had desired to
live in; but I might command in my own house,
and pass my time in a manner as recluse as Í I
pleased."
I complied at last, finding I could not do better.
I left Lisbon the 24th day of November, in an Eng-
lish merchantman, but who was the master I never
inquired. Don Pedro accompanied me to the ship,
and lent me twenty pounds. He took kind leave of
me, and embraced me at parting, which I bore as
well as I could. During this last voyage I had no
commerce with the master or any of his men; but
pretending I was sick, kept close in my cabin. On
the 5th of December, 1715, we cast anchor in the
Downs, about nine in the morning, and at three in
the afternoon I got safe to my house at Redriff.
My wife and family received me with great sur-
prise and joy, because they concluded me certainly
dead; but I must freely confess the sight of them
filled me only with hatred, disgust, and contempt;
and the more, by reflecting on the near alliance I
had to them. For although, since my unfortunate
exile from the IIouyhnhnm country, I had compelled
myself to tolerate the sight of Yahoos, and to con-
verse with Don Pedro de Mendez, yet my memory
and imagination were perpetually filled with the
virtues and ideas of those exalted Houyhnhnms. And
when I began to consider, that by copulating with
one of the Yahoo species I had become a parent of
more, it struck me with the utmost shame, coufusion,
and horror.
As soon as I entered the house, my wife took me
in her arms and kissed me; at which, having not
been used to the touch of that odious animal for so
80
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
many years, I fell into a swoon for almost an hour.
At the time I am writing, it is five years since my
last return to England: during the first year I could
not endure my wife or children in my presence: the
very smell of them was intolerable; much less could
I suffer them to eat in the same room. To this hour
they dare not presume to touch my bread, or drink
out of the same cup; neither was I ever able to let
one of them take me by the hand. The first money
I laid out was to buy two young stone horses, which
I keep in a good stable; and next to them the
groom is my greatest favourite; for I feel my spirits
revived by the smell he contracts in the stable. My
horses understand me tolerably well; I converse
with them at least four hours every day. They are
strangers to bridle or saddle; they live in great
amity with me, and friendship to each other.
CHAPTER XII,
The author's veracity. His design in publishing this work.
His cousure of those travellers who swerve from the truth.
The author clears himself from any sinister ends in writing.
An objection answered. The method of planting colonies,
His native country commended. The right of the crown to
those countries described by the author, is justified. The
difficulty of conquering them. The author takes his last
leave of the reader; proposes his manner of living for the
future; gives good advice, and concludes.
Thus, gentle reader, I have given thee a faithful his-
tory of my travels for sixteen years and above seven
months: wherein I have not been so studious of or-
nament, as of truth. I could perhaps, like others,
I could perhaps, like others,
have astonished thee with strange improbable tales;
but I rather chose to relate plain matter of fact, in
the simplest manner and style; because my princi-
pal design was to inform, and not to amuse thee.
It is easy for us who travel into remote countries,
which are seldom visited by Englishmen or other
Europeans, to form descriptions of wonderful ani-
mals both at sea and land. Whereas a traveller's
chief aim should be to make men wiser and better,
and to improve their minds by the bad, as well as
good example, of what they deliver concerning fo-
reign places.
I could heartily wish a law was enacted, that
every traveller, before he were permitted to publish
his voyages, should be obliged to make oath before
the lord-high-chancellor, that all he intended to
print was absolutely true to the best of his know-
ledge; for then the world would no longer be de-
ceived, as it usually is, while some writers, to make
their works pass the better upon the public, impose
the grossest falsities on the unwary reader. I have
I have
perused several books of travels with great delight
in my younger days; but having since gone over
most parts of the globe, and been able to contradict
many fabulous accounts from my own observation,
it has given me a great disgust against this part of
reading, and some indignation to see the credulity
of mankind so impudently abused. Therefore, since
my acquaintance were pleased to think my poor en-
deavours might not be unacceptable to my country,
I imposed on myself, as a maxim, never to be
swerved from, that I would strictly adhere to truth;
neither indeed can I be ever under the least tempta-
tion to vary from it, while I retain in my mind the
lectures and example of my noble master and the
other illustrious Houyhnhnms, of whom I had so long
the honour to be an humble hearer.
Nec si miserum Fortuna Sinonem
Finxit, vanum etiam, mendacemque improba finget.
I know very well how little reputation is to be got
by writings, which require neither genius nor learn-
ing, nor indeed any other talent, except a good me-
mory or an exact journal. I know likewise, that
:
writers of travels, like dictionary-makers, are sunk
into oblivion by the weight and bulk of those who
come last, and therefore lie uppermost. And it is
highly probable that such travellers, who shall here-
after visit the countries described in this work of
mine, may, by detecting my errors (if there be any),
and adding many new discoveries of their own,
justle me out of vogue, and stand in my place, mak-
ing the world forget that ever I was an author. This
indeed would be too great a mortification, if I wrote
for fame but as my sole intention was the public
good, I cannot be altogether disappointed. For
who can read of the virtues I have mentioned in the
glorious Houyhnhnms, without being ashamed of
his own vices, when he considers himself as the rea-
soning, governing animal of his country? I shall
say nothing of those remote nations where Yahoos
preside; among which the least corrupted are the
Brobdingnagians; whose wise maxims in morality
and government, it would be our happiness to ob-
serve. But I forbear descanting further, and rather
leave the judicious reader to his own remarks and
application.
I am not a little pleased that this work of mine
can possibly meet with no censurers: for what ob-
jections can be made against a writer, who relates
only plain facts, that happened in such distant coun-
tries, where we have not the least interest, with re-
spect either to trade or negotiations? I have care-
fully avoided every fault, with which common
writers of travels are often too justly charged. Be-
sides, I meddle not the least with any party, but
write without passion, prejudice, or ill-will against
any man, or number of men whatsoever. I write
for the noblest end, to inform and instruct mankind;
over whom I may, without breach of modesty, pre-
tend to some superiority from the advantages I re-
ceived by conversing so long among the most accom-
plished Houyhnhnms. I write without any view to
profit or praise. I never suffer a word to pass that
may look like reflection, or possibly give the least
offence, even to those who are most ready to take it.
So that I hope I may with justice pronounce my-
self an author perfectly blameless; against whom
the tribes of Answerers, Considerers, Observers, Re-
flectors, Detectors, Remarkers, will never be able to
find matter for exercising their talents.
I confess it was whispered to me,
"that I was
bound in duty, as a subject of England, to have given
in a memorial to a secretary of state at my first
coming over, because, whatever lands are discovered
by a subject, belong to the crown." But I doubt
whether our conquests, in the countries I treat of,
would be as easy as those of Ferdinando Cortez over
the naked Americans. The Lilliputians, I think,
are hardly worth the charge of a fleet and army to
reduce them; and I question whether it might be
prudent or safe to attempt the Brobdingnagians. Or
whether an English army would be much at their
ease with the Flying Island over their heads.
Houyhnhnms indeed appear not to be so well pre-
pared for war, a science to which they are perfect
strangers, and especially against missive weapons.
However, supposing myself to be a minister of state,
I could never give my advice for invading them.
Their prudence, unanimity, unacquaintedness with
fear, and their love of their country, would amply
supply all defects in the military art. Imagine
twenty thousand of them breaking into the midst
of an European army, confounding the ranks, over-
turning the carriages, battering the warriors' faces
into mummy by terrible yerks from their hinder hoofs;
for they would well deserve the character given to
Augustus, Recalcitrat undique tutus. But, instead of
The
A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
81
proposals for conquering that magnanimous nation,
I rather wish they were in a capacity, or disposition,
to send a sufficient number of their inhabitants for
civilizing Europe, by teaching us the first principles
of honour, justice, truth, temperance, public spirit,
fortitude, chastity, friendship, benevolence, and fide-
lity. The names of all which virtues are still re-
tained among us in most languages, and are to be
met with in modern as well as ancient authors;
which I am able to assert from my own small read-
ing.
But I had another reason, which made me less
forward to enlarge his majesty's dominions by my
discoveries. To say the truth, I had conceived a
few scruples with relation to the distributive justice
of princes upon those occasions. For instance, a
crew of pirates are driven by a storm they know not
whither; at length a boy discovers land from the
topmast; they go on shore to rob and plunder; they
see a harmless people, are entertained with kind-
ness; they give the country a new name; they take
formal possession of it for their king; they set up a
rotten plank, or a stone, for a memorial; they mur-
der two or three dozen of the natives, bring away
a couple more, by force, for a sample; return home
and get their pardon. Here commences a new do-
minion acquired with a title by divine right. Ships
are sent with the first opportunity; the natives
driven out or destroyed; their princes tortured to
discover their gold; a free licence given to all acts
of inhumanity and lust, the earth reeking with the
blood of its inhabitants: and this execrable crew of
butchers, employed in so pious an expedition, is a
modern colony, sent to convert and civilize an idola-
trous and barbarous people!
But this description, I confess, does by no means
affect the British nation, who may be an example to
the whole world for their wisdom, care, and justice
in planting colonies; their liberal endowments for
the advancement of religion and learning; their
choice of devout and able pastors to propagate
Christianity; their caution in stocking their pro-
vinces with people of sober lives and conversations,
from this the mother kingdom; their strict regard to
the distribution of justice, in supplying the civil ad-
ministration through all their colonies with officers
of the greatest abilities, utter strangers to corruption;
and, to crown all, by sending the most vigilant and
virtuous governors, who have no other views than
the happiness of the people over whom they preside,
and the honour of the king their master.
But as those countries, which I have described,
do not appear to have any desire of being conquered
and enslaved, murdered or driven out by colonies;
nor abound either in gold, silver, sugar, or tobacco;
I did humbly conceive, they were by no means pro-
per objects of our zeal, our valour, or our interest.
However, if those whom it more concerns, think fit
to be of another opinion, I am ready to depose,
when I shall be lawfully called, that no European
did ever visit those countries before me. I mean, if
the inhabitants ought to be believed, unless a dispute
may arise concerning the two Yahoos said to have
been seen many years ago upon a mountain in Houy-
hnhnm-land.
But, as to the formality of taking possession in
my sovereign's name it never came once into my
|
|
thoughts; and if it had, yet, as my affairs then stood,
I should perhaps, in point of prudence and self-pre-
servation, have put it off to a better opportunity.
Having thus answered the only objection that can
ever be raised against me as a traveller, I here take a
final leave of all my courteous readers, and return to
enjoy my own speculations in my little garden at
Redriff; to apply those excellent lessons of virtue
which I learned among the Houyhnhnms; to instruct
the Yahoos of my own family, as far as I shall find
them docible animals; to behold my figure often in
a glass, and thus, if possible, habituate myself by
time to tolerate the sight of a human creature; to
lament the brutality of Houyhnhnms in my own
country, but always treat their persons with respect,
for the sake of my noble master, his family, his
friends, and the whole Houyhnhnm race, whom these
of ours have the honour to resemble in all their linea-
ments, however their intellectuals came to dege-
nerate.
I began last week to permit my wife to sit at din-
ner with me, at the farthest end of a long table; and
to answer (but with the utmost brevity) the few
questions I asked her. Yet, the smell of a Yahoo
continuing very offensive, I always keep my nose
well stopped with rue, lavender, or tobacco leaves.
And, although it be hard for a man late in life to
remove old habits, I am not altogether out of hopes,
in some time, to suffer a neighbour Yahoo in my
company, without the apprehensions I am yet under
of his teeth or his claws.
My reconcilement to the Yahoo kind in general
might not be so difficult, if they would be content with
those vices and follies only which nature has entitled
them to. I am not in the least provoked at the sight
of a lawyer, a pickpocket, a colonel, a fool, a lord,
a gamester, a politician, a whoremonger, a physi-
cian, an evidence, a suborner, an attorney, a traitor,
or the like; this is all according to the due course
of things: but when I behold a lump of deformity
and diseases, both in body and mind, smitten with
pride, it immediately breaks all the measures of my
patience; neither shall I be ever able to compre-
hend how such an animal, and such a vice, could
tally together. The wise and virtuous Houyhnhnms,
who abound in all excellencies that can adorn a
rational creature, have no name for this vice in their
language; which has no terms to express anything
that is evil, except those whereby they describe the
detestable qualities of their Yahoos; among which
they were not able to distinguish this of pride, for
want of thoroughly understanding human nature,
as it shows itself in other countries, where that ani-
mal presides. But I, who had more experience,
could plainly observe some rudiments of it among
the wild Yahoos.
But the Houyhnhnms, who live under the govern-
ment of reason, are no more proud of the good qua-
lities they possess than I should be for not wanting a
leg or an arm; which no man in his wits would
boast of, although he must be miserable without
them. I dwell the longer upon this subject, from the
desire I have to make the society of an English
Yahoo by any means not insupportable; and there-
fore I here entreat those, who have any tincture of
this absurd vice, that they will not presume to come
in my sight.
VOL. I.
G
82
A TALE OF A TUB.
WRITTEN FOR THE UNIVERSAL IMPROVEMENT OF MANKIND.
Diu multumque desideratum.
TO WHICH IS ADDED, AN ACCOUNT OF A BATTLE BETWEEN THE ANCIENT AND MODERN BOOKS IN
ST. JAMES'S LIBRARY; WITH THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY, AND EXPLANATORY NOTES.
Basyma cacabassa eanaa, irraumista diaraba cacota bafobor camelanthi.-IREN., lib. i. c. 18.
Juvatque novos decerpere flores,
Insignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam,
Unde prius nulli velarunt tempora Musa.-LUCRET,
Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat ?-HORACE.
ANALYTICAL TABLE. THE AUTHOR'S
APOLOGY.
THE tale approved of by a great majority among
the men of taste. Some treatises written expressly
against it; but not one syllable in its defence. The
greatest part of it finished in 1696, eight years be-
fore it was published. The author's intention when
he began it. No irreligious or immoral opinion can
fairly be deduced from the book. The clergy have
no reason to dislike it. The author's intention not
having met with a candid interpretation, he declined
engaging in a task he had proposed to himself, of
examining some publications, that were intended
against all religion. Unfair to fix a name upon an
author who had so industriously concealed himself.
The Letter on Enthusiasm,a ascribed by several to
the same author. If the abuses in law or physic
had been the subjeet of this treatise, the learned
professors in either faculty would have been more
liberal than the clergy. The passages which appear
most liable to objection are parodies. The author
entirely innocent of any intention of glancing at
those tenets of religion, which he has by some pre-
judiced or ignorant readers been supposed to mean.
This particularly the case in the passage about the
three wooden machines. An irony runs through
the whole book. Not necessary to take notice of
treatises written against it. The usual fate of com-
mon answerers to books of merit is to sink into
waste paper and oblivion. The case very different
when a great genius exposes a foolish piece. Re-
flections occasioned by Dr. King's Remarks on the
Tale of a Tub; others, by Mr. Wotton. The manner
in which the Tale was first published accounted for.
The Fragment not printed in the way the author
intended; being the groundwork of a much larger
discourse.b The oaths of Peter why introduced.
The severest strokes of satire in the treatise are
levelled against the custom of employing wit in pro-
fancness or immodesty. Wit the noblest and most
useful gift of human nature; and humour the most
agreeable. Those who have no share of either,
This letter, supposed to have been written by Swift, and
ascribed to his friend Colonel IIunter, was the production of
the author of the "Characteristics, "in which collection it
holds the foremost rank. It bears date in September, 1707.
In the apology, the author dwells on the circumstance of
the book having been published while his original papers were
out of his own possession. Three editions were printed in the
year 1704; a fourth, corrected, in 1705.
think the blow weak, because they are themselves
insensible.
P.S. The author of the Key wrong in all his con-
jectures. The whole work entirely by one hand ;
the author defying any one to claim three lines in
the book.
The Bookseller's Dedication to Lord Somers.-
How he finds out that lord to be the patron in-
tended by his author. Dedicators ridiculous, who
praise their patrons for qualities that do not belong
to them.
The Bookseller to the Reader.-Tells how long he
has had these papers, when they were written, and
why he publishes them now.
The Dedication to Posterity.-The author, appre-
hending that time will soon destroy almost all the
writings of this age, complains of his malice against
modern authors and their productions, in hurrying
them so quickly off the scene; and therefore ad-
dresses posterity in favour of his contemporaries :
assures him they abound in wit and learning, and
books; and, for instance, mentions Dryden, Tate,
D'Urfey, Bentley, and Wotton.
Preface. The occasion and design of this work.
Project for employing the beaux of the nation.
Of modern prefaces. Modern wit how delicate.
Method for penetrating into an author's thoughts.
Our
Complaints of every writer against the multitude
of writers, like the fat fellows in a crowd.
author insists on the common privilege of writers;
to be favourably explained when not understood;
and to praise himself in the modern way. This
treatise without satire; and why. Fame sooner
gotten by satire than panegyric; the subject of the
latter being narrow, and that of the former infinite.
Difference between Athens and England, as
as to
general and particular satire. The author designs a
panegyric on the world, and a modest defence of the
rabble.
SECTION I. THE INTRODUCTION.-A physico-my-
thological dissertation on the different sorts of ora-
torial machines. Of the bar and the bench. The
author fond of the number three; promises a pane-
gyric on it. Of pulpits; which are the best. Of
ladders; on which the British orators surpass all
others. Of the stage itinerant; the seminary of the
two former. A physical reason why those machines
are elevated. Of the curious contrivance of modern
theatres. These three machines emblematically re-
present the various sorts of authors.
ANALYTICAL TABLE.
83
An apologetical dissertation for the Grub-street
writers, against their revolted rivals of Gresham and
Will's. Superficial readers cannot easily find out
wisdom, which is compared to several pretty things.
Commentaries promised on several writings of
Grub-street authors; as Reynard the Fox, Tom
Thumb, Dr. Faustus, Whittington and his Cat, the
Hind and Panther, Tommy Pots, and the Wise Men
of Gotham. The author's pen and person worn out
in serving the state. Multiplicity of titles and de-
dications.
SECTION II. TALE OF A TUB.-Of a Father and
his Three Sons. His will, and his legacies to them.
Of the young men's carriage at the beginning; and
of the genteel qualifications they acquired in town.
Description of a new sect, who adored their creator
the tailor. Of their idol and their system. The
three brothers follow the mode against their father's
will; and get shoulder-knots by help of distinctions;
gold-lace, by help of tradition; flame-coloured satin
lining, by means of a supposed codicil; silver fringe,
by virtue of critical interpretation; and embroidery
of Indian figures, by laying aside the plain literal
meaning. The will at last locked up. Peter got
into a lord's house, and after his death turned out
his children, and took in his own brothers in their
stead.
SECTION III. A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS.
-Three sorts of critics; the two first sorts now
extinct. The true sort of critics' genealogy; office;
definition. Antiquity of their race proved from
Pausanias, who represents them by asses browsing
on vines; and Herodotus, by asses with horns;
and by an ass that frightened a Scythian army;
and Diodorus, by a poisonous weed; and Ctesias,
by serpents that poison with their vomit; and
Terence, by the name of Malevoli. The true critic
compared to a tailor, and to a true beggar. Three
characteristics of a true modern critic.
SECTION IV. TALE OF A TUB, continued.-Peter
assumes grandeur and titles; and, to support them,
turns projector. The author's hopes of being trans-
lated into foreign languages. Peter's first invention,
of Terra Australis Incognita. The second of a
remedy for Worms. The third, a Whispering-Office.
Fourth, an Insurance-Office. Fifth, an Universal
Pickle. Sixth, a set of Bulls with leaden feet.
Lastly, his pardons to malefactors. Peter's brains
turned; he plays several tricks, and turns out his
brother's wives. Gives his brothers bread for
mutton and for wine. Tells huge lies; of a cow's
milk that would fill 3000 churches; of a Sign-post
as large as a man-of-war; of a house that travelled
2000 leagues. The brothers steal a copy of the
will, break open the cellar door, and are both kicked
out of doors by Peter.
SECTION V. A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND.
-Our author expatiates on his great pains to serve
the public by instructing, and more by diverting.
The Moderns having so far excelled the Ancients,
the author gives them a receipt for a complete
system of all arts and sciences, in a small pocket
volume. Several defects discovered in Home; and
his ignorance in modern invention, &c. Our au-
thor's writings fit to supply all defects. He justifies
He justifies
his praising his own writings by modern examples.
SECTION VI. TALE OF A TUB, continued.-The
two brothers ejected, agree in a resolution to re-
form, according to the will. They take different
names, and are found to be of different complexions.
How Martin began rudely, but proceeded more
cautiously in reforming his coat. Jack, of a dif-
ferent temper, and full of zeal, begins tearing all to
pieces. He endeavours to kindle up Martin to the
same pitch, but, not succeeding, they separate.
Jack runs mad, gets many names, and founds the
sect of Æolists.
SECTION VII. A DIGRESSION IN PRAISE of DI-
GRESSIONS.-Digressions suited to modern palates.
A proof of depraved appetites; but necessary for
modern writers. Two ways now in use to be book-
learned: 1. By learning titles; 2. By reading
Indexes. Advantages of this last; and of Abstracts.
The number of writers increasing above the quan-
tity of matter, this method becomes necessary and
useful. The Reader empowered to transplant this
Digression.
SECTION VIII. TALE OF A TUB, continued.
System of the Æolists; they hold wind or spirit to
be the origin of all things, and to bear a great part
in their composition. Of the fourth and fifth animas
attributed by them to man. Of their belching, or
preaching. Their inspiration from Exoríce.
Σκοτία. They
use barrels for pulpits. Female officers used for in-
spiration; and why. The notion opposite to that
of a deity, fittest to form a devil. Two devils dreaded
by the Æolists. Their relation with a Northern
nation. The Author's respect for this sect.
SECTION IX. DISSERTATION ON MADNESS. -
Great conquerors of empires, and founders of sects
in philosophy and religion, have generally been per-
sons whose reason was disturbed. A small vapour,
mounting to the brain, may occasion great revo-
lutions. Examples; of Henry IV., who made great
preparations for war, because of his mistress's ab-
sence; and of Louis XIV., whose great actions
concluded in a fistula. Extravagant notions of se-
veral great philosophers, how nice to distinguish
from madness. Mr. Wotton's fatal mistake in mis-
applying his peculiar talents. Madness the source
of conquests and systems. Advantages of fiction
and delusion over truth and reality. The outside of
things better than the inside. Madness, how useful.
A proposal for visiting Bedlam, and employing the
divers members in a way useful to the public.
SECTION X. THE AUTHOR'S COMPLIMENTS TO THE
READERS.-Great civilities practised between the
authors and readers; and our author's thanks to the
whole nation. How well satisfied authors and book-
sellers are. To what occasions we owe most of the
present writings. Of a paltry scribbler our author
is afraid of, and therefore desires Dr. Bentley's pro-
tection. He gives here his whole store at one meal.
Usefulness of this treatise to different sorts of read-
ers; the superficial, the ignorant, and the learned.
Proposal for making some ample commentaries on
this work; and of the usefulness of commentaries.
for dark writers. Useful hints for the commen-
tators of this treatise.
SECTION XI. THE TALE of a Tub, continued.
The author, not in haste to be at home, shows the
difference between a traveller weary, or in haste,
and another in good plight, that takes his pleasure
and views every pleasant scene in his way. The
sequel of Jack's adventures; his superstitious vene-
ration for the Holy Scripture, and the uses he made
of it. His flaming zeal, and blind submission to
the Decrees. His harangue for Predestination.
He covers roguish tricks with a show of devotion.
Affects singularity in manners and speech. His
aversion to music and painting. His discourses
provoke sleep. His groaning and affecting to suffer
for the good cause. The great antipathy of Peter and
Jack made them both run into extremes, where
they often met.
The degenerate ears of this age cannot afford a
sufficient handle to hold men by. The senses and
passions afford many handles. Curiosity is that by
@ 2
84
A TALE OF A TUB.
which our Author has held his readers so long. The
rest of this story lost, &c.
Of the
THE CONCLUSION. Of the proper seasons for
publishing books. Of profound writers.
ghost of wit. Sleep and the Muses nearly related.
Apology for the author's fits of dulness. Method
and Reason the lacqueys of Invention.
Our au-
thor's great collection of flowers of little use till
now.
A DISCOURSE CONCERNING THE MECHANICAL OPERA-
TION OF THE SPIRIT.
The Author, at a loss what title to give this piece,
finds after much pains, that of A Letter to a Friend
to be the most in vogue, of modern excuses for
haste and negligence, &c.
SECTION I. Mahomet's fancy of being carried to
heaven by an ass, followed by many Christians.
A great affinity between this creature and man.
That talent of bringing his rider to heaven, the sub-
ject of this discourse; but for ass and rider, the au-
thor uses the synonymous terms of enlightened
teacher and fanatic hearer. A tincture of enthu-
siasm runs through all men and all sciences; but
prevails most in religion. Enthusiasm defined and
distinguished. That which is mechanical and arti-
ficial is treated of by our author. Though art
oftentimes changes into nature: examples in the
Scythian Longheads and English Roundheads.-
Sense and reason must be laid aside to let this
spirit operate. The objections about the manner
of the Spirit from above descending upon the Apos-
tles, make not against this spirit that arises within.
The methods by which the assembly helps to work
up this spirit, jointly with the preacher.
SECTION II. How some worship a good Being,
others an evil. Most people confound the bounds
of good and evil. Vain mortals think the Divinity
interested in their meanest actions. The scheme of
spiritual mechanism left out. Of the usefulness of
quilted night-caps to keep in the heat, to give motion
and vigour to the little animals that compose the
brain. Sound of far greater use than sense in the
operations of the Spirit, as in music. Inward light
consists of theological monosyllables and mysterious
texts. Of the great force of one vowel in canting;
and of blowing the nose, hawking, spitting, and
belching. The author to publish an Essay on the
Art of Canting. Of speaking through the nose, or
snuffling its origin from a disease occasioned by
a conflict between the Flesh and the Spirit. In-
spired vessels, like lanterns, have a sorry sooty out-
side. Fanaticism deduced from the ancients, in
their orgies, bacchanals, &c. Of their great lasci-
viousness on those occasions. The Fanatics of the
first centuries and those of later times, generally
agree in the same principle of improving spiritual
into carnal ejaculations, &c.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
The Preface informs us this piece was written in
1697, on account of a famous dispute about Ancient
and Modern Learning, between Sir William Temple
and the Earl of Orrery on the one side, and Mr.
Wotton and Bentley on the other.
War and invasions generally proceed from the
attacks of Want and Poverty upon Plenty and
Riches. The Moderns quarrel with the Ancients.
about the possession of the highest top of Parnassus,
and desire them to surrender it or to let it be level-
led. The answer of the Ancients not accepted.
war ensues, in which rivulets of ink are spilt; and
both parties hang out their trophies-books of con-
troversy. These books haunted with disorderly spi-
rits, though often bound to the peace in libraries.
A
|
The author's advice in this case neglected, which
occasions a terrible fight in St James's Library. Dr.
Bentley, the library-keeper, a great enemy to the
Ancients. The Moderns, finding themselves 50,000
strong, give the Ancients ill language. Temple, a
favourite of the Ancients. An incident of a quarrel
between a bee and a spider, with their arguments
on both sides. Esop applies them to the present
dispute. The order of battle of the Moderns, and
names of their leaders. The leaders of the Ancients.
Jupiter calls a council of the Gods, and consults the
books of Fate; and then sends his orders below.
Momus brings the news to Criticism; whose habita-
tion and company is described. She arrives, and
sheds her influence on her son Wotton. The battle
described. Paracelsus engages Galen; Aristotle
aims at Bacon, and kills Descartes; Homer over-
throws Gondibert, kills Denham and Wesley," Per-
rault and Fontenelle. Encounter of Virgil and
Dryden; of Lucan and Blackmore; of Creech and
Horace; of Pindar and Cowley. The episode of
Bentley and Wotton. Bentley's armour.
speech to the modern generals. Scaliger's answer.
Bentley and Wotton march together. Bentley at-
tacks Phalaris and sop. Wotton attacks Temple
in vain. Boyle pursues Wotton; and meeting Ben-
tley in his way, he pursues and kills them both.
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.
His
Ir good and ill nature equally operated upon man-
kind, I might have saved myself the trouble of this
apology; for it is manifest by the reception the fol-
lowing discourse has met with, that those who ap-
prove it are a great majority among the men of
taste; yet there have been two or three treatises
written expressly against it, beside many others that
have flirted at it occasionally, without one syllable
having been ever published in its defence, or even
quotation to its advantage that I can remember, ex-
cept by the polite author of a late discourse between
a Deist and a Socinian.
Therefore, since the book seems calculated to
live, at least as long as our language and our taste
admit no great alterations, I am content to convey
some apology along with it.
The greatest part of that book was finished about
thirteen years since, 1696, which is eight years be-
fore it was published. The author was then young,
his invention at the height, and his reading fresh in
his head. By the assistance of some thinking, and
much conversation, he had endeavoured to strip
himself of as many real prejudices as he could; I
say real ones, because under the notion of preju-
dices, he knew to what dangerous heights some men
have proceeded. Thus prepared, he thought the
numerous and gross corruptions in religion and
learning might furnish matter for a satire that would
be useful and diverting. He resolved to proceed in
a manner that should be altogether new, the world
having been already too long nauseated with endless
repetitions upon every subject. The abuses in reli-
gion, he proposed to set forth in the allegory of the
coats and the three brothers, which was to make up
the body of the discourse: those in learning he
chose to introduce by way of digressions. He was
then a young gentleman much in the world, and
wrote to the taste of those who were like himself;
a Samuel Wesley, rector of Ormesby and Epworth, in Lin-
colnshire.
b Charles Perrault, author of a poem entitled, "Le Sièclo
de Louis le Grand," in which the modern authors are exalted
above the ancient.
The author of "The Plurality of Worlds;" who died in
1756, in his 100th year.
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.
85
therefore, in order to allure them, he gave a liberty
to his pen which might not suit with maturer years
or graver characters, and which he could have easily
corrected with a very few blots, had he been master
of his papers for a year or two before their publica-
tion.
Not that he would have governed his judgment
by the ill-placed cavils of the sour, the envious, the
stupid and the tasteless, which he mentions with
disdain. He acknowledges there are several youth-
ful sallies, which from the grave and the wise may
deserve a rebuke. But he desires to be answerable
no further than he is guilty, and that his faults may
not be multiplied by the ignorant, the unnatural,
and uncharitable applications of those who have
neither candour to suppose good meanings, nor pa-
late to distinguish true ones. After which, he will
forfeit his life if any one opinion can be fairly de-
duced from that book which is contrary to religion
or morality.
Why should any clergyman of our church be an-
gry to see the follies of fanaticism and superstition
exposed, though in the most ridiculous manner;
since that is perhaps the most probable way to cure
them, or at least to hinder them from further spread-
ing? Besides, though it was not intended for their
perusal, it rallies nothing but what they preach
against. It contains nothing to provoke them, by
the least scurrility upon their persons or their func-
tions. It celebrates the church of England, as the
most perfect of all others in discipline and doctrine;
it advances no opinion they reject, nor condemns
any they receive. If the clergy's resentment
If the clergy's resentment lay
upon their hands, in my humble opinion they might
have found more proper objects to employ them on;
nondum tibi defuit hostis: I mean those heavy, illi-
terate scribblers, prostitute in their reputations,
reputations,
vicious in their lives, and ruined in their fortunes,
who, to the shame of good sense as well as piety,
are greedily read, merely upon the strength of bold,
false, impious assertions, mixed with unmannerly
reflections upon the priesthood, and openly intended
against all religion: in short, full of such principles
as are kindly received, because they are levelled to
remove those terrors that religion tells men will be
the consequence of immoral lives. Nothing like
which is to be met with in this discourse, though
some of them are pleased so freely to censure it.
And I wish there were no other instance of what I
have too frequently observed, that many of that re-
verend body are not always very nice in distinguish-
ing between their enemies and their friends.
Had the author's intentions met with a more can-
did interpretation from some, whom out of respect
he forbears to name, he might have been encouraged
to an examination of books written by some of those
authors above described, whose errors, ignorance,
dulness and villainy, he thinks he could have de-
tected and exposed in such a manner, that the per-
sons who are most conceived to be affected by them
would soon lay them aside and be ashamed; but he
has now given over those thoughts, since the weigh-
tiest men in the weightiest stations are pleased to
think it a more dangerous point to laugh at those
corruptions in religion, which they themselves must
disapprove, than to endeavour pulling up those very
foundations wherein all christians have agreed.
He thinks it no fair proceeding, that any person
should offer determinately to fix a name upon the
author of this discourse, who hath all along conceal-
ed himself from most of his nearest friends: yet
several have gone a step farther, and pronounced
another book to have been the work of the same
a The celebrated Letter on Enthusiasm.
hand with this, which the author directly affirms to
be a thorough mistake; he having as yet never so
much as read that discourse: a plain instance how
little truth there often is in general surmises, or in
conjectures drawn from a similitude of style or way
of thinking.
Had the author written a book to expose the
abuses in law or in physic, he believes the learned
professors in either faculty would have been so far
from resenting it as to have given him thanks for his
pains; especially if he had made an honourable re-
servation for the true practice of either science but
religion, they tell us, ought not to be ridiculed,
and they tell us truth: yet surely the corrup-
tions in it may; for we are taught by the tritest.
maxim in the world, that Religion being the best of
things, its corruptions are likely to be the worst.
There is one thing which the judicious reader
cannot but have observed, that some of those pas-
sages in this discourse which appear most liable to
objection, are what they call parodies, where the
author personates the style and manner of other
writers, whom he has a mind to expose. I shall
produce one instance of a passage in which Dryden,
L'Estrange, and some others I shall not name, are
levelled at, who, having spent their lives in faction
and apostacies, and all manner of vice, pretended to
be sufferers for loyalty and religion. So Dryden
tells us, in one of his prefaces, of his merits and suf-
ferings, and thanks God that he possesses his soul
in patience; in other places he talks at the same rate;
and L'Estrange often uses the like style; and I be-
lieve the reader may find more persons to give that
passage an application: but this is enough to direct
those who may have overlooked the author's intention.
There are three or four other passages which pre-
judiced or ignorant readers have drawn by great
force to hint at ill meanings; as if they glanced at
some tenets in religion. In answer to all which,
the author solemnly protests he is entirely inno-
cent; and never had it once in his thoughts, that
anything he said, would in the least be capable of
such interpretations, which he will engage to de-
duce full as fairly from the most innocent book in the
world. And it will be obvious to every reader, that
this was not any part of his scheme or design, the
abuses he notes being such as all church-of-England
men agree in; nor was it proper for his subject to
meddle with other points, than such as have been
perpetually controverted since the Reformation.
To instance only in that passage about the three
wooden machines mentioned in the introduction:
in the original manuscript there was a description
of a fourth, which those who had the papers in their
power, blotted out, as having something in it of
satire, that I suppose they thought was too parti-
cular; and therefore they were forced to change it
to the number three, whence some have endea-
voured to squeeze out a dangerous meaning, that
was never thought on. And, indeed, the conceit
was half spoiled by changing the numbers; that of
four being much more cabalistic, and, therefore,
better exposing the pretended virtue of numbers, a
superstition there intended to be ridiculed.
Another thing to be observed is, that there gene-
rally runs an irony through the thread of the whole.
book, which the man of taste will observe and dis-
tinguish; and which will render some objections
that have been made very weak and insignificant.
This Apology being chiefly intended for the satis-
faction of future readers, it may be thought unneces-
sary to take any notice of such treatises as have
been written against the ensuing discourse, which
are already sunk into waste paper and oblivion,
$6
A TALE OF A TUB.
after the usual fate of common answerers to books
which are allowed to have any merit: they are in-
deed like annuals, that grow about a young tree,
and seem to vie with it for a summer, but fall and
die with the leaves in autumn, and are never heard
of more. When Dr. Eachard wrote his book about
the contempt of the clergy, numbers of these an-
swerers immediately started up, whose memory, if
he had not kept alive by his replies, it would now be
utterly unknown that he was ever answered at all.
There is indeed an exception, when any great genius
thinks it worth his while to expose a foolish piece;
so we still read Marvell's answer to Parker" with
pleasure, though the book it answers be sunk long
ago: so the Earl of Orrery's remarks will be read
with delight, when the dissertation he exposes will
neither be sought nor found: but these are no
enterprizes for common hands, nor to be hoped for
above once or twice in an age. Men would be more
cautious of losing their time in such an undertaking,
if they did but consider that to answer a book
effectually requires more pains and skill, more wit,
learning and judgment, than were employed in the
writing of it. And the author assures those gentle-
men who have given themselves that trouble with
him, that his discourse is the product of the study,
the observation, and the invention of several years;
that he often blotted out much more than he left,
and if his papers had not been a long time out of his
possession, they must have still undergone more
severe corrections: and do they think such a build-
ing is to be battered with dirt-pellets, however en-
venomed the mouths may be that discharge them?
He has seen the productions but of two
swerers, one of which at first appeared as from an
unknown hand, but since avowed by a person,
who, upon some occasions, has discovered no ill
vein of humour. It is a pity any occasion should
put him under a necessity of being so hasty in his
productions, which, otherwise, might be entertain-
ing. But there were other reasons obvious enough
for his miscarriage in this; he wrote against the
conviction of his talent, and entered upon one of
the wrongest attempts in nature to turn into ridi-
cule, by a week's labour, a work which had cost so
much time and met with so much success in ridi-
culing others the manner how he handled his sub-
ject I have now forgot, having just looked it over,
when it first came out, as others did, merely for the
sake of the title.
d
an-
0
The other answer is from a person of a graver
character, and is made up of half invective, and half
annotation; in the latter of which he has generally
succeeded well enough. And the project at that
time was not amiss to draw in readers to his
pam-
phlet, several having appeared desirous that there
might be some explication of the more difficult pas-
sages. Neither can he be altogether blamed for
offering at the invective part, because it is agreed on
all hands, that the author had given him sufficient
provocation. The great objection is against his
manner of treating it, very unsuitable to one of his
function. It was determined by a fair majority,
that this answerer had, in a way not to be pardoned,
drawn his pen against a certain great man then
alive, and universally reverenced for every good
quality that could possibly enter into the compo-
sition of the most accomplished person; it was ob-
"Afterwards Bishop of Oxford.
served how he was pleased, and affected to have that
noble writer called his adversary; and it was a
point of satire well directed; for I have been told
Sir William Temple was sufficiently mortified at the
term. All the men of wit and politeness were im-
mediately up in arms through indignation, which
prevailed over their contempt, by the consequences
they apprehended from such an example; and it
grew Porsenna's case idem trecenti juravimus. In
short, things were ripe for a general insurrection,
till my Lord Orrery had a little laid the spirit, and
settled the ferment. But his lordship being princi-
pally engaged with another antagonist," it was
thought necessary, in order to quiet the minds of
men, that this opposer should receive a reprimand,
which partly occasioned that discourse of the Battle
of the Books; and the author was further at the
pains to insert one or two remarks on him in the
body of the book.
This answerer has been pleased to find fault with
about a dozen passages, which the author will not
be at the trouble of defending, further than by as-
suring the reader, that for the greater part, the re-
flector is entirely mistaken, and forces interpreta-
tions which never once entered into the writer's
head, nor will (he is sure) into that of any reader of
taste and candour; he allows two or three at most,
there produced, to have been delivered unwarily :
for which he desires to plead the excuse offered al-
ready, of his youth, and frankness of speech, and his
papers being out of his power at the time they were
published.
But this answerer insists, and says, what he chiefly
dislikes, is the design: what that was, I have al-
ready told, and I believe there is not a person in
England who can understand that book, that ever
imagined it to be anything else, but to expose the
abuses and corruptions in learning and religion.
one.
But it would be good to know what design this
reflector was serving, when he concludes his pam-
phlet with a caution to the reader to beware of think-
ing the author's wit was entirely his own: surely
this must have had some allay of personal animosity
at least, mixed with the design of serving the public,
by so useful a discovery; and it indeed touches the
author in a tender point; who insists upon it, that
through the whole book he has not borrowed one
single hint from any writer in the world; and he
thought of all criticisms, that would never have been
He conceived, it was never disputed to be an
original, whatever faults it might have. However,
this answerer produces three instances to prove this
author's wit is not his own in many places. The
first is, that the names of Peter, Martin, and Jack,
are borrowed from a letter of the late Duke of Buck-
ingham [Villiers]. Whatever wit is contained in
those three names, the author is content to give it
up, and desires his readers will subtract as much as
they placed upon that account; at the same time
protesting solemnly, that he never once heard of that
letter, except in this passage of the answerer: so
that the names were not borrowed, as he affirms,
though they should happen to be the same; which,
however, is odd enough, and what he hardly be-
lieves that of Jack being not quite so obvious as
the other two. The second instance to show the
author's wit is not his own is Peter's banter (as he
calls it in his Alsatia phrase) upon transubstan-
tiation, which is taken from the same duke's con-
ference with an Irish priest, where a cork is turned
:
b
b Boyle's Remarks upon Bentley's Dissertation on the Epis- into a horse. This the author confesses to have
tles of Phalaris.
• Dr. William King, the civilian.
d Wotton's Defence of his Reflections upon Ancient and
Mcdern Learning.
A
Bentley, concerning Phalaris and Esop.
b Banter, a word which Swift detested.
name for Whitefriars.
Alsatia, a nick-
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.
87
seen about ten years after his book was written, and
a year or two after it was published. Nay the an-
swerer overthrows this himself; for he allows the
Tale was written in 1697; and I think that pam-
plet was not printed in many years after. It was
necessary that corruption should have some allegory
as well as the rest; and the author invented the
properest he could, without inquiring what other
people had written; and the commonest reader will
find, there is not the least resemblance between the
two stories.-The third instance is in these words;
"I have been assured, that the battle in St. James's
Library is, mutatis mutandis, taken out of a French
book, entitled, Combat des Livres, if I mis-remem-
ber not." In which passage there are two clauses
observable; "I have been assured;" and, "if I
mis-remember not." I desire first to know whe-
ther, if that conjecture proves an utter falsehood,
those two clauses will be a sufficient excuse for this
worthy critic? The matter is a trifle; but, would
but, would
he venture to pronounce at this rate upon one of
greater moment? I know nothing more con-
temptible in a writer than the character of a pla-
giary, which he here fixes at a venture; and this
not for a passage, but a whole discourse, taken out
from another book, only mutatis mutandis. The
author is as much in the dark about this as the
answerer; and will imitate him by an affirmation at
random; that if there be a word of truth in this re-
flection, he is a paltry, imitating pedant; and the
answerer is a person of wit, manners, and truth.
He takes his boldness, from never having seen any
such treatise in his life, nor heard of it before; and
he is sure it is impossible for two writers, of dif-
ferent times and countries, to agree in their thoughts
after such a manner, that two continued discourses
shall be the same, only mutatis mutandis. Neither
will he insist upon the mistake in the title; but let
the answerer and his friend produce any book they
please, he defies them to show one single particular
where the judicious reader will affirm he has been
obliged for the smallest hint; giving only allowance
for the accidental encountering of a single thought,
which he knows may sometimes happen; though he
has never yet found it in that discourse, nor has
heard it objected by anybody else.
So that if ever any design was unfortunately exe-
cuted it must be that of this answerer, who, when he
would have it observed that the author's wit is none
of his own, is able to produce but three instances-
two of them mere trifles, and all three manifestly
false. If this be the way these gentlemen deal with
the world in those criticisms, where we have not
leisure to defeat them, their readers had need be
cautious how they rely upon their credit; and
whether this proceeding can be reconciled to hu-
manity or truth, let those who think it worth their
while determine.
It is agreed this answerer would have succeeded
much better if he had stuck wholly to his business
as a commentator upon the TALE OF A TUB, wherein
it cannot be denied that he hath been of some ser-
vice to the public, and hath given very fair conjec-
tures towards clearing up some difficult passages;
but it is the frequent error of those men (otherwise
very commendable for their labours), to make ex-
cursions beyond their talent and their office by pre-
tending to point out the beauties and the faults,
which is no part of their trade-which they always
fail in which the world never expected from them,
nor gave them any thanks for endeavouring at.
The part of Minellius, or Farnaby,ª would have
"Low commentators, who wrote notes upon classic authors
for the use of schoolboys.
|
fallen in with his genius, and might have been
serviceable to many readers, who cannot enter into
the abstruser parts of that discourse; but optat
ephippia bos piger; the dull, unwieldly, ill-shaped
ox, would needs put on the furniture of a horse,
not considering he was born to labour, to plough
the ground for the sake of superior beings, and that
he has neither the shape, mettle, nor speed, of the
noble animal he would affect to personate.
It is another pattern of this answerer's fair dealing
to give us hints that the author is dead, and yet to
lay the suspicion upon somebody, I know not who,
in the country; to which can only be returned,
that he is absolutely mistaken in all his conjectures;
and surely conjectures are, at best, too light a pre-
tence to allow a man to assign a name in public.
He condemns a book, and consequently the author,
of whom he is utterly ignorant; yet at the same
time he fixes in print what he thinks a disadvan-
tageous character upon those who never deserved it.
A man who receives a buffet in the dark, may be
allowed to be vexed; but it is an odd kind of re-
venge, to go to cuffs in broad day with the first he
meets and lay the last night's injury at his door.
And thus much for the discreet, candid, pious, and
ingenious answerer.
He
How the author came to be without his papers is
a story not proper to be told, and of very little use,
being a private fact; of which the reader would be-
lieve as little, or as much, as he thought good.
had, however, a blotted copy by him, which he in-
tended to have written over with many alterations;
and this the publishers were well aware of, having
put it into the bookseller's preface that they appre-
hended a surreptitious copy, which was to be altered,
&c. This, though not regarded by readers, was a
real truth, only the surreptitious copy was rather
that which was printed; and they made all the
haste they could, which, indeed, was needless, the
author not being at all prepared; but he has been
told the bookseller was in much pain, having given
a good sum of money for the copy.
In the author's original copy there were not so
many chasms as appear in the book, and why some
of them were left he knows not. Had the publica-
tion been trusted to him, he would have made
several corrections of passages, against which no-
thing has been ever objected: he would likewise
have altered a few of those that seem with any rea-
son to be excepted against; but, to deal freely, the
greatest number he should have left untouched, as
never suspecting it possible any wrong interpreta-
tions could be made of them.
The author observes, at the end of the book, there
is a discourse called a Fragment, which he more
wondered to see in print than all the rest, having
been a most imperfect sketch, with the addition of a
few loose hints, which he once lent a gentleman who
had designed a discourse on somewhat the same
subject; he never thought of it afterwards, and it
was a sufficient surprise to see it pieced up together
wholly out of the method and scheme he had in-
tended, for it was the ground-work of a much larger
discourse, and he was sorry to observe the materials
so foolishly employed.
There is one further objection made by those who
have answered this book, as well as by some others,
that Peter is frequently made to repeat oaths and
curses. Every reader observes, it was necessary to
know that Peter did swear and curse. The oaths
are not printed out, but only supposed; and the idea
of an oath is not immoral, like the idea of a profane
or immodest speech. A man may laugh at the Po-
pish folly of cursing people to hell, and imagine
88
A TALE OF A TUB.
them swearing, without any crime; but lewd words,
or dangerous opinions, though printed by halves,
fill the reader's mind with ill ideas; and of these the
author cannot be accused. For the judicious reader
will find that the severest strokes of satire in his
book are levelled against the modern custom of em-
ploying wit upon those topics; of which there is a
remarkable instance in the 112th and 13th pages,
as well as in several others, though perhaps once or
twice expressed in too free a manner, excusable only
for the reasons already alleged. Some overtures
have been made by a third hand to the bookseller
for the author's altering those pages which he thought
might require it; but it seems the bookseller will
not hear of any such thing, being apprehensive it
might spoil the sale of the book.
The author cannot conclude this apology without
making this one reflection: that, as wit is the no-
blest and most useful gift of human nature, so
humour is the most agreeable; and where these two
enter far into the composition of any work, they
will render it always acceptable to the world. Now,
the great part of those who have no share or taste of
either, but by their pride, pedantry, and ill manners,
lay themselves bare to the lashes of both, think the
blow is weak, because they are insensible; and,
where wit has any mixture of raillery, it is but calling
it banter, and the work is done. This polite word of
theirs was first borrowed from the bullies in White-
friars, then fell among the footmen, and at last re-
tired to the pedants; by whom it is applied as pro-
perly to the production of wit as if I should apply it
to Sir Isaac Newton's mathematics. But, if this
bantering, as they call it, be so despisable a thing,
whence comes it to pass they have such a perpetual
itch toward it themselves? To instance only in the
answerer already mentioned: it is grievous to see
him, in some of his writings, at every turn going out
of his way to be waggish to tell us of a cow that
pricked up her tail; and in his answer to this dis-
course, he says, it is all a farce and a ladle; with
other passages equally shining. One may say of
these impedimenta literarum, that wit owes them a
shame; and they cannot take wiser counsel than to
keep out of harm's way, or, at least, not to come till
they are sure they are called.
To conclude: with those allowances above re-
quired this book should be read; after which, the
author conceives few things will remain which may
not be excused in a young writer. He wrote only
to the men of wit and taste; and he thinks he is
not mistaken in his accounts when he says they have
been all of his side enough to give him the vanity of
telling his name; wherein the world, with all its
wise conjectures, is yet very much in the dark;
which circumstance is no disagreeable amusement
either to the public or himself.
The author is informed that the bookseller has
prevailed on several gentlemen to write some expla-
natory notes, for the goodness of which he is not to
answer, having never seen any of them, nor intend-
ing it, till they appear in print; when it is not un-
likely he may have the pleasure to find twenty
meanings which never entered into his imagination.
June 3, 1709.
POSTSCRIPT.-Since the writing of this, which was
about a year ago, a prostitute bookseller has pub-
lished a foolish paper, under the name of " Notes on
the Tale of a Tub," with some account of the author:
and, with an insolence which I suppose is punish.
able by law, has presumed to assign certain names.
It will be enough for the author to assure the world,
that the writer of that paper is utterly wrong in all
his conjectures upon that affair. The author further
|
asserts that the whole work is entirely of one hand,
which every reader of judgment will easily discover;
the gentleman who gave the copy to the bookseller,
being a friend of the author, and using no other
liberties besides that of expunging certain passages,
where now the chasms appear under the name of
desiderata. But, if any person will prove his claim
to three lines in the whole book, let him step forth
and tell his name and titles; upon which, the book-
seller shall have orders to prefix them to the next
edition, and the claimant shall from henceforward
be acknowledged the undisputed author.
Treatises written by the same author, most of them
mentioned in the following Discourses; which will
be speedily published.
A Character of the present Set of Wits in this
Island.
A panegyrical Essay upon the Number Three.
A Dissertation upon the principal Productions of
Grub-street.
Lectures upon a Dissection of Human Nature.
A Panegyric upon the World.
physiologically considered.
An analytical Discourse upon Zeal, histori-theo-
A general History of Ears.
Rabble in all ages.
A modest Defence of the Proceedings of the
A Description of the Kingdom of Absurdities.
A Voyage into England, by a Person of Quality
Original.
in terra australis incognita, translated from the
A critical Essay upon the Art of Canting, phi'o-
sophically, physically, and musically considered.
THE BOOKSELLER'S DEDICATION.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE JOHN LORD SOMERS.
MY LORD,-Although the author has written a large
dedication, yet that being addressed to a prince,
whom I am never likely to have the honour of being
known to; a person besides, as far as I can observe,
not at all regarded, or thought on by any of our pre-
sent writers; and being wholly free from that sia-
very which booksellers usually lie under, to the
caprice of authors; I think it a wise piece of pre-
sumption to inscribe these papers to your lordship
and to implore your lordship's protection of them.
God and your lordship know their faults and their
merits; for, as to my own particular, I am altogether
a stranger to the matter; and though everybody else
should be equally ignorant, I do not fear the sale of
the book, at all the worse, upon that score. Your
lordship's name on the front in capital letters will at
any time get off one edition: neither would I desire
any other help to grow an alderman, than a patent
for the sole privilege of dedicating to your lordship.
I should now in right of a dedicator, give your
lordship a list of your own virtues, and at the same
time, be very unwilling to offend your modesty; but
chiefly, I should celebrate your liberality towards
men of great parts and small fortunes, and give you
broad hints that I mean myself. And I was just going
on, in the usual method, to peruse a hundred or two
of dedications, and transcribe an abstract to be applied
to your lordship; but I was diverted by a certain
accident for upon the covers of these papers I
casually observed written in large letters the two
following words, DETUR DIGNISSIMO; which,
for aught I knew, might contain some important
meaning. But it unluckily fell out, that none of
the authors I employ understood Latin; (though I
have them often in pay to translate out of that lan-
guage); I was therefore compelled to have recourse
to the curate of our parish, who englished it thus,
DEDICATIONS.
89
I
"Let it be given to the worthiest :" and his com-
ment was, that the author meant his work should be
dedicated to the sublimest genius of the age for wit,
learning, judgment, eloquence, and wisdom.
called at a poet's chamber (who works for my shop)
in an alley hard by, showed him the translation, and
desired his opinion who it was that the author could
mean he told me, after some consideration, that
vanity was a thing he abhorred; but by the descrip-
tion, he thought himself to be the person aimed at;
and at the same time, he very kindly offered his own
assistance gratis towards penning a dedication to
himself. I desired him, however, to give a second
guess; Why then, said he, it must be I, or my Lord
Somers. From thence I went to several other wits
of my acquaintance, with no small hazard and
weariness to my person, from a prodigious number
of dark, winding stairs; but found them all in the
same story, both of your lordship and themselves.
Now, your lordship is to understand, that this pro-
ceeding was not of my own invention; for I have
somewhere heard it is à maxim, that those to whom
everybody allows the second place, have an undoubted
title to the first.
This infallibly convinced me that your lordship
was the person intended by the author. But being
very unacquainted in the style and form of dedica-
tions I employed those wits aforesaid to furnish me
with hints and materials, towards a panegyric upon
your lordship's virtues.
In two days they brought me ten sheets of paper,
filled up on every side.
side. They swore to me, that
they had ransacked whatever could be found in the
characters of Socrates, Aristides, Epaminondas, Cato,
Tully, Atticus, and other hard names, which I cannot
now recollect. However, I have reason to believe,
they imposed upon my ignorance; because, when I
came to read over their collections, there was not a
syllable there, but what I and everybody else knew
as well as themselves; therefore I grievously suspect
a cheat; and that these authors of mine stole and
transcribed every word, from the universal report of
mankind. So that I look upon myself as fifty shil-
lings out of pocket, to no manner of purpose.
If by altering the title I could make the same
materials serve for another dedication (as my betters
have done), it would help to make up my loss; but
I have made several persons dip here and there in
those papers, and before they read three lines, they
have all assured me plainly, that they cannot possi-
bly be applied to any person besides your lordship.
I expected indeed, to have heard of your lordship's
bravery at the head of an army; of your undaunted
courage in mounting a breach, or scaling a wall; or
to have had your pedigree traced in a lineal descent
from the house of Austria; or, of your wonderful
talent at dress and dancing; or, your profound
knowledge in algebra, metaphysics, and the oriental
tongues. But to ply the world with an old beaten
story of your wit, and eloquence, and learning, and
wisdom, and justice, and politeness, and candour,
and evenness of temper in all scenes of life; of
that great discernment in discovering, and readiness
in favouring deserving men; with forty other com-
mon topics; I confess, I have neither conscience nor
countenance to do it. Because there is no virtue,
either of a public or a private life, which some cir-
cumstances of your own have not often produced
upon the stage of the world; and those few, which,
for want of occasions to exert them, might other-
wise have passed unseen, or unobserved, by your
friends, your enemies have at length brought to
light.
It is true, I should be very loth the bright exam-
a
ple of your lordship's virtues should be lost to after-
ages, both for their sake and your own; but chiefly
because they will be so very necessary to adorn the
history of a late reign; and that is another reason
why I would forbear to make a recital of them here;
because I have been told by wise men, that as dedi-
cations have run for some years past, a good historian
will not be apt to have recourse thither in search of
characters.
There is one point, wherein I think we dedicators
would do well to change our measures; I mean, in-
stead of running on so far upon the praise of our
patrons' liberality, to spend a word or two in admi-
ring their patience. I can put no greater compli-
ment on your lordship's, than by giving you so
ample an occasion to exercise it at present.-Though
perhaps I shall not be apt to reckon much merit to
your lordship upon that score, who having been
formerly used to tedious harangues and sometimes
to as little purpose, will be the readier to pardon this;
especially when it is offered by one, who is, with all
respect and veneration, my lord, your lordship's
most obedient and most faithful servant,
THE BOOKseller.
THE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER.
Ir is now six years since these papers came first to
my hand, which seems to have been about a twelve-
month after they were written; for the author tells
us in his preface to the first treatise, that he has
calculated it for the year 1697, and in several pas-
sages of that discourse, as well as the second, it
appears they were written about that time.
As to the author, I can give no manner of satis-
faction; however I am credibly informed, that this
publication is without his knowledge; for he con-
cludes the copy is lost, having lent it to a person,
since dead, and being never in possession of it after :
so that, whether the work received his last hand, or
whether he intended to fill up the defective places,
is likely to remain a secret.
If I should go about to tell the reader, by what
accident I became master of these papers, it would,
in this unbelieving age, pass for little more than the
cant or jargon of the trade. I therefore gladly spare
both him and myself so unnecessary a trouble.
There yet remains a difficult question, why I pub-
lished them no sooner. I forbore upon two accounts ;
first, because I thought I had better work upon my
own hands; and secondly, because I was not without
some hope of hearing from the author, and receiving
his directions. But I have been lately alarmed with
intelligence of a surreptitious copy, which a certain
great wit had new polished and refined, or, as our
present writers express themselves, fitted to the
humour of the age: as they have already done, with
great felicity, to Don Quixote, Boccalini, La Bruyere,
and other authors. However, I thought it fairer
dealing to offer the whole work in its naturals. If
any gentleman will please to furnish me with a key,
in order to explain the more difficult parts, I shall
very gratefully acknowledge the favour, and print it
by itself.
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY
TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE POSTERITY.b
SIR, I here present your highness with the fruits
of a very few leisure hours, stolen from the short in-
a King William's, whose memory he defended in the flouse
of Lords.
b It is the usual style of decried writers to appeal to Posterity,
who is here represented as a prince in his nouage and Time
as his governor.
90
A TALE OF A TUB.
tervals of a world of business, and of an employ-
ment quite alien from such amusements as this the
poor production of that refuse of time, which has
laid heavy upon my hands during a long prorogation
of parliament, a great dearth of foreign news, and a
tedious fit of rainy weather; for which, and other
reasons, it cannot choose extremely to deserve such
a patronage as that of your highness, whose number-
less virtues, in so few years, make the world look
upon you as the future example to all princes; for
although your highness is hardly got clear of infancy,
yet has the universal learned world already resolved
upon appealing to your future dictates, with the
lowest and most resigned submission; fate having
decreed you sole arbiter of the productions of human
wit, in this polite and most accomplished age.
thinks the number of appellants were enough to
shock and startle any judge, of a genius less unlimited
than yours: but in order to prevent such glorious
trials, the person, it seems, to whose care the edu-
cation of your highness is committed, has resolved
(as I am told) to keep you in almost a universal ig-
norance of our studies, which it is your inherent
birth-right to inspect.
Me-
It is amazing to me that this person should have
the assurance, in the face of the sun, to go about per-
suading your highness that our age is almost wholly
illiterate, and has hardly produced one writer upon
any subject. I know very well, that when your
highness shall come to riper years, and have gone
through the learning of antiquity, you will be too
curious to neglect inquiring into the authors of the
very age before you: and to think that this insolent,
in the account he is preparing for your view, designs
to reduce them to a number so insignificant as I am
ashamed to mention; it moves my zeal and my
spleen for the honour and interest of our vast flour-
ishing body, as well as of myself, for whom, I know
by long experience, he has professed, and still con-
tinues, a peculiar malice.
It is not unlikely that, when your highness will
one day peruse what I am now writing, you may
be ready to expostulate with your governor upon
the credit of what I here affirm, and command him
to show you some of our productions. To which he
will answer (for I am well informed of his designs),
by asking your highness where they are? and what
is become of them? and pretend it a demonstration
that there never were any, because they are not then
to be found. Not to be found! who has mislaid
them? are they sunk in the abyss of things? it is
certain, that in their own nature, they were light
enough to swim upon the surface for all eternity.
Therefore the fault is in him, who tied weights so
heavy to their heels as to depress them to the centre.
Is their very essence destroyed? who has annihilated
them? were they drowned by purges, or martyred
by pipes? who administered them to the posteriors
of ? But, that it may no longer be a doubt
with your highness, who is to be the author of this
universal ruin, I beseech you to observe that large
and terrible scythe which your governor affects to
bear continually about him. Be pleased to remark
the length and strength, the sharpness and hardness,
of his nails and teeth: consider his baneful, abomi- |
nable breath, enemy to life and matter, infectious
and corrupting and then reflect whether it be pos-
sible for any mortal ink and paper of this generation
to make a suitable resistance. O! that your highness
would one day resolve to disarm this usurping maître
du palais" of his furious engines, and bring your
empire hors de page [out of guardianship].
n
It were needless to recount the several methods
of tyranny and destruction, which your governor is
pleased to practise upon this occasion. His invete-
rate malice is such to the writings of our age, that
of several thousands produced yearly from this re-
nowned city, before the next revolution of the sun,
there is not one to be heard of: Unhappy infants!
many of them barbarously destroyed, before they have
so much as learnt their mother tongue to beg for pity.
Some he stifles in their cradles; others he frights
into convulsions, whereof they suddenly die; some
he flays alive; others he tears limb from limb.
Great numbers are offered to Moloch; and the rest,
tainted by his breath, die of a languishing consump-
tion.
But the concern I have most at heart, is for our
corporation of poets; from whom I am preparing a
petition to your highness, to be subscribed with the
names of one hundred and thirty-six of the first rate;
but whose immortal productions are never likely to
reach your eyes, though each of them is now an
humble and earnest appellant for the laurel, and has
large comely volumes ready to show, for a support to
his pretensions. The never-dying works of these
illustrious persons, your governor, sir, has devoted
to unavoidable death; and your highness is to be
made believe, that our age has never arrived at the
honour to produce one single poet.
We confess Immortality to be a great and power-
ful goddess; but in vain we offer up to her our de-
votions and our sacrifices, if your highness's governor,
who has usurped the priesthood, must, by an unpa-
ralleled ambition and avarice, wholly intercept and
devour them.
To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned,
and devoid of writers in any kind, seems to be an
assertion so bold and so false, that I have been some
time thinking the contrary may almost be proved
by uncontrollable demonstration. It is true, in-
deed, that although their numbers be vast, and their
productions numerous in proportion, yet are they
hurried so hastily off the scene, that they escape our
memory, and elude our sight. When I first thought
of this address, I had prepared a copious list of titles
to present your highness, as an undisputed argument
for what I affirm. The originals were posted fresh
upon all gates and corners of streets; but, returning
in a very few hours to take a review, they were all
torn down, and fresh ones in their places. I in-
quired after them among readers and booksellers ;
but I inquired in vain; the memorial of them was
lost among men; their places were no more to be
found; and I was laughed to scorn for a clown and
a pedant, without all taste and refinement, little
versed in the course of present affairs, and that knew
nothing of what had passed in the best companies of
court and town. So that I can only avow in gene-
ral to your highness, that we do abound in learning
and wit; but to fix upon particulars, is a task too
slippery for my slender abilities. If I should ven-
ture in a windy day to affirm to your highness, that
there is a large cloud near the horizon, in the form
of a bear, another in the zenith, with the head of an
ass; a third to the westward, with claws like a
dragon; and your highness should in a few minutes
think fit to examine the truth, it is certain they would
all be changed in figure and position: new ones
would arise, and all we could agree upon would be,
that clouds there were, but that I was grossly mis-
taken in the zoography and topography of them.
But your governor perhaps may still insist, and
put the question,-What is then become of those
immense bales of paper, which must needs have been
Comptroller. The kingdom of France had a race of kings employed in such numbers of books? can these also
which they call les roys faineans from their doing nothing.
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
91
be wholly annihilate, and so of a sudden, as I pre-
tend? What shall I say in return of so invidious an
objection? it ill befits the distance between your
highness and me, to send you for ocular conviction
to a jakes, or an oven; to the windows of a bawdy-
house, or to a sordid lantern. Books, like men their
authors, have no more than one way of coming into
the world, but there are ten thousand to go out of
it, and return no more.
I profess to your highness, in the integrity of my
heart, that what I am going to say is literally true
this minute I am writing: what revolutions may
happen before it shall be ready for your perusal, I
can by no means warrant: however, I beg you to
accept it as a specimen of our learning, our polite-
ness, and our wit. I do therefore affirm, upon the
word of a sincere man, that there is now actually in
being a certain poet, called John Dryden, whose
translation of Virgil was lately printed in a large
folio, well bound, and, if diligent search were made,
for aught I know, is yet to be seen. There is ano-
ther, called Nahum Tate, who is ready to make oath
that he has caused many reams of verse to be pub-
lished, whereof both himself and his bookseller (if
lawfully required) can still produce authentic copies,
and therefore wonders why the world is pleased to
make such a secret of it. There is a third, known
by the name of Tom Durfey, a poet of a vast com-
prehension, a universal genius, and most profound
learning. There are also one Mr. Rymer, and one
Mr. Dennis, most profound critics. There is a per-
son styled Dr. Bentley, who has written near a thou-
sand pages of immense erudition, giving a full and
true account of a certain squabble, of wonderful im-
portance, between himself and a bookseller: he is a
writer of infinite wit and humour; no man rallies
with a better grace, and in more sprightly turns.
Further, I avow to your highness, that with these
eyes I have beheld the person of William Wotton,
B.D., who has written a good sizeable volume against
a friend of your governor," (from whom, alas! he
must therefore look for little favour), in a most gen-
tlemanly style, adorned with the utmost politeness
and civility; replete with discoveries equally valua-
ble for their novelty and use; and embellished with
traits of wit, so poignant and so apposite, that he is
a worthy yokemate to his forementioned friend.
Why should I go upon further particulars, which
might fill a volume with the just eulogies of my con-
temporary brethren? I shall bequeath this piece of
justice to a larger work, wherein I intend to write a
character of the present set of wits in our nation:
their persons I shall describe particularly and at
length, their genius and understandings in miniature.
In the meantime I do here make bold to present
your highness with a faithful abstract, drawn from
the universal body of all arts and sciences, intended
wholly for your service and instruction: nor do I
doubt in the least, but your highness will peruse it
as carefully, and make as considerable improvements,
as other young princes have already done, by the
many volumes of late years written for a help to their
studies.b
That your highness may advance in wisdom and
virtue, as well as years, and at last outshine all your
royal ancestors, shall be the daily prayer of,
Sir, your highness's most devoted, &c.
December, 1697.
a Sir William Temple, with whom Wotton was engaged in a
controversy,
b Works printed for the use of the Dauphin of France.
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
THE wits of the present age being so very numerous
and penetrating, it seems the grandees of church and
state begin to fall under horrible apprehensions, lest
these gentlemen, during the intervals of a long peace,
should find leisure to pick holes in the weak sides of
religion and government. To prevent which, there
has been much thought employed of late, upon cer-
tain projects for taking off the force and edge of
those formidable inquirers, from canvassing and
reasoning upon such delicate points. They have at
length fixed upon one, which will require some time
as well as cost to perfect. Meanwhile, the danger
hourly increasing, by new levies of wits, all appointed
(as there is reason to fear) with pen, ink, and paper,
which may, at an hour's warning, be drawn out into
pamphlets, and other offensive weapons, ready for
immediate execution, it was judged of absolute ne-
cessity, that some present expedient be thought on,
till the main design can be brought to maturity.
To this end, at a grand committee some days ago,
this important discovery was made by a certain
curious and refined observer-that seamen have a
custom, when they meet a whale, to fling him out an
empty tub by way of amusement, to divert him from
laying violent hands upon the ship. This parable
was immediately mythologised; the whale was in-
terpreted to be Hobbe's Leviathan, which tosses and
plays with all schemes of religion and government,
whereof a great many are hollow, and dry, and
empty, and noisy, and wooden, and given to rota-
tion: this is the leviathan, whence the terrible wits
of our age are said to borrow their weapons. The
ship in danger is easily understood to be its old
antitype, the commonwealth. But how to analyse
the tub, was a matter of difficulty; when, after long
inquiry and debate, the literal meaning was preserved;
and it was decreed that, in order to prevent these
leviathans from tossing and sporting with the com-
monwealth, which of itself is too apt to fluctuate,
they should be diverted from that game by a Tale of
a Tub. And, my genius being conceived to lie not
unhappily that way, I had the honour done me to
be engaged in the performance.
This is the sole design in publishing the following
treatise, which I hope will serve for an interim of
some months to employ those unquiet spirits, till
the perfecting of that great work; into the secret of
which, it is reasonable the courteous reader should
have some little light.
It is intended, that a large academy be erected,
capable of containing nine thousand seven hundred
forty and three persons"; which, by modest compu-
tation, is reckoned to be pretty near the current
number of wits in this island. These are to be dis-
posed into the several schools of this academy, and
there pursue those studies to which their genius
most inclines them. The undertaker himself will
publish his proposals with all convenient speed; to
which I shall refer the curious reader for a more par-
ticular account, mentioning at present only a few of
the principal schools. There is, first, a large pæder-
astic school, with French and Italian masters. There
is also the spelling school, a very spacious building:
the school of looking-glasses: the school of swear-
ing: the school of critics: the school of salivation:
the school of hobby-horses: the school of poetry:
the school of tops: the school of spleen: the school
of gaming with many others, too tedious to re-
No person to be admitted member into any
of these schools without an attestation under two
sufficient persons' hands certifying him to be a wit.
count.
a The number of livings in England.
92
A TALE OF A TUB
The
custom, against the multitude of writers, whereof the
whole multitude of writers most reasonably com-
plain. I am just come from perusing some hun-
dreds of prefaces, wherein the authors do, at the
very beginning, address the gentle reader concern-
ing this enormous grievance. Of these I have pre-
served a few examples, and shall set them down as
near as my memory has been able to retain them.
One begins thus:-For a man to set up for a
writer, when the press swarms with, &c.
Another :-The tax upon paper does not lessen
the number of scribblers, who daily pester, &c.
Another :-When every little would-be wit takes
pen in hand, 'tis in vain to enter the lists, &c.
Another -To observe what trash the press
swarms with, &c.
Another-Sir, It is merely in obedience to your
commands that I venture into the public; for who
upon a less consideration would be of a party with
such a rabble of scribblers, &c.
Now, I have two words in my own defence
against this objection. First, I am far from grant-
ing the number of writers a nuisance to our nation,
having strenuously maintained the contrary, in seve-
ral parts of the following discourse. Secondly, I do
not well understand the justice of this proceeding;
because I observe many of these polite prefaces to
be not only from the same hand, but from those who
are most voluminous in their several productions.
Upon which I shall tell the reader a short tale.
But, to return: I am sufficiently instructed in the
principal duty of a preface, if my genius were capa-
ble of arriving at it. Thrice have I forced my ima-
gination to make the tour of my invention, and
thrice it has returned empty; the latter having been
wholly drained by the following treatise. Not so
Not so
my more successful brethren the moderns; who will
by no means let slip a preface or dedication, with-
out some notable distinguishing stroke to surprise
the reader at the entry, and kindle a wonderful ex-
pectation of what is to ensue. Such was that of a
most ingenious poet, who, soliciting his brain for
something new, compared himself to the hangman,
and his patron to the patient: this was insigne, re-
cens, indictum ore alio. When I went through that
necessary and noble course of study, I had the hap-
piness to observe many such egregious touches,
which I shall not injure the authors by transplant-
ing: because I have remarked, that nothing is so
very tender as a modern piece of wit, and which is
apt to suffer so much in the carriage. Some things
are extremely witty to-day, or fasting, or in this
place, or at eight o'clock, or over a bottle, or spoke
by Mr. What'd'y'call'm, or in a summer's morning:
any of the which, by the smallest transposal or mis-
application, is utterly annihilate. Thus wit has its
walks and purlieus, out of which it may not stray
the breadth of a hair, upon peril of being lost.
moderns have artfully fixed this mercury, and re-
duced it to the circumstances of time, place, and
person. Such a jest there is, that will not pass out
of Covent-garden; and such a one that is nowhere
intelligible but at Hyde-park corner. Now, though
it sometimes tenderly affects me to consider, that all
the towardly passages I shall deliver in the following
treatise, will grow quite out of date and relish with
the first shifting of the present scene, yet I must
needs subscribe to the justice of this proceeding:
because, I cannot imagine why we should be at the
expense to furnish wit for succeeding ages, when the
former have made no sort of provision for ours:
wherein I speak the sentiment of the very newest,
and consequently the most orthodox refiners, as
well as my own. However, being extremely soli-
citous that every accomplished person, who has got
into the taste of wit calculated for this present month
of August, 1697, should descend to the very bottom
of all the sublime, throughout this treatise; I hold
fit to lay down this general maxim: whatever reader
desires to have a thorough comprehension of an au-
thor's thoughts, cannot take a better method than by
putting himself into the circumstances and postures
of life, that the writer was in upon every important
passage, as it flowed from his pen: for this will in-
troduce a parity, and strict correspondence of ideas,
between the reader and the author. Now, to assist
the diligent reader in so delicate an affair, as far as
brevity will permit, I have recollected, that the
shrewdest pieces of this treatise were conceived in
bed in a garret; at other times, for a reason best
known to myself, I thought fit to sharpen my inven-
tion with hunger; and, in general, the whole work
was begun, continued, and ended, under a long
course of physic, and a great want of money. Now,
I do affirm, it will be absolutely impossible for the
candid peruser to go along with me in a great many
bright passages, unless, upon the several difficulties
emergent, he will please to capacitate and prepare
himself by these directions. And this I lay down as
my principal postulatum.
Because I have professed to be a most devoted ser-
vant of all modern forms, I apprehend some curious
wit may object against me, for procceding thus far
in a preface, without declaiming, according to the
Bless
A mountebank, in Leicester-fields, had drawn a
huge assembly about him. Among the rest, a fat
unwieldly fellow, half stifled in the press, would be
every fit crying out, "Lord! what a filthy crowd is
here! pray, good people, give way a little.
me! what a devil has raked this rabble together!
z-ds? what squeezing is this! honest friend, re-
move your elbow." At last a weaver, that stood
next him, could hold no longer. "A plague con-
found you (said he) for an overgrown sloven; and
who, in the devil's name, I wonder, helps to make
up the crowd half so much as yourself? Don't you
consider, with a pox, that you take up more room with
that carcass than any five here? Is not the place as
free for us as for you? bring your own guts to a rea-
sonable compass, and be d-n'd, and then I'll en-
gage we shall have room enough for us all."
There are certain common privileges of a writer,
the benefit whereof, I hope, there will be no reason
to doubt; particularly, that where I am not under-
stood, it shall be concluded, that something very use-
ful and profound is couched underneath; and again,
that whatever word or sentence is printed in a dif-
ferent character, shall be judged to contain some-
thing extraordinary either of wit or sublime.
As for the liberty I have thought fit to take of
praising myself, upon some occasions or none, I am
sure it will need no excuse, if a multitude of great
examples be allowed sufficient authority: for it is
here to be noted, that praise was originally a pension
paid by the world; but the moderns, finding the
trouble and charge too great in collecting it, have
lately bought out the fee-simple; since which time
the right of presentation is wholly in ourselves. For
this reason it is, that when an author makes his own
eulogy, he uses a certain form to declare and insist
upon his title, which is commonly in these or the
like words, "I speak without vanity;" which I
think plainly shows it to be a matter of right and
justice. Now I do here once for all declare, that
in every encounter of this nature through the follow-
ing treatise, the form aforesaid is implied; which I
mention, to save the trouble of repeating it on so
many occasions.
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
93
It is a great ease to my conscience, that I have
written so elaborate and useful a discourse, without
one grain of satire intermixed; which is the sole
point wherein I have taken leave to dissent from the
famous originals of our age and country. I have ob-
served some satirists to use the public much at the
rate that pedants do a naughty boy, ready horsed for
discipline: first, expostulate the case, then plead the
necessity of the rod from great provocations, and
conclude every period with a lash. Now, if I know
anything of mankind, these gentlemen might very
well spare their reproof and correction: for there is
not, through all nature, another so callous and insen-
sible a member as the world's posteriors, whether
you apply to it the toe or the birch. Besides, most
of our late satirists seem to lie under a sort of mis-
take; that because nettles have the prerogative to
sting, therefore all other weeds must do so too. I
make not this comparison out of the least design to
detract from these worthy writers; for it is well
known among mythologists, that weeds have the
pre-eminence over all other vegetables; and there-
fore the first monarch of this island, whose taste and
judgment were so acute and refined, did very wisely
root out the roses from the collar of the order, and
plant the thistles in their stead, as the nobler flower
of the two. For which reason it is conjectured by
profounder antiquaries, that the satirical itch, so
prevalent in this part of our island, was first brought
among us from beyond the Tweed. Here may it
long flourish and abound: may it survive and ne-
glect the scorn of the world, with as much ease and
contempt as the world is insensible to the lashes of
it.
May their own dullness, or that of their party,
be no discouragement for the authors to proceed;
but let them remember, it is with wits as with razors,
which are never so apt to cut those they are employ-
ed on as when they have lost their edge. Besides,
those whose teeth are too rotten to bite, are best, of
all others, qualified to revenge that defect with their
breath.
I am not like other men, to envy or undervalue
the talents I cannot reach; for which reason I must
needs bear a true honour to this large eminent sect
of our British writers. And I hope this little pane-
gyric will not be offensive to their ears, since it has
the advantage of being only designed for themselves.
Indeed, nature herself has taken order, that fame
and honour should be purchased at a better penny-
worth by satire than by any other productions of the
brain; the world being soonest provoked to praise
by lashes, as men are to love. There is a problem in
an ancient author, why dedications, and other bun-
dles of flattery, run all upon stale musty topics, with-
out the smallest tincture of anything new; not only
to the torment and nauseating of the Christian
reader, but, if not suddenly prevented, to the uni-
versal spreading of that pestilential disease, the
lethargy, in this island: whereas there is very little
satire, which has not something in it untouched be-
fore. The defects of the former are usually im-
puted to the want of invention among those who are
dealers in that kind; but, I think, with a great deal
of injustice; the solution being easy and natural;
for the materials of panegyric, being very few in
number, have been long since exhausted. For, as
health is but one thing and has been always the
same, whereas diseases are by thousands, beside
new and daily additions; so, all the virtues that
have been ever in mankind, are to be counted upon
a few fingers; but their follies and vices are innu-
merable, and time adds hourly to the heap. Now
the utmost a poor poet can do, is to get by heart a
list of the cardinal virtues, and deal them with his
|
utmost liberality to his hero or his patron: he may
ring the changes as far as it will go, and vary his
phrase till he has talked round; but the reader
quickly finds it is all pork, with a little variety of
sauce. For there is no inventing terms of art be-
yond our ideas; and, when our ideas are exhausted
terms of art must be so too.
But though the matter for panegyric were as fruit-
ful as the topics of satire, yet would it not be hard
to find out a sufficient reason why the latter will be
always better received than the first. For, this being
bestowed only upon one, or a few persons at a time,
is sure to raise envy, and consequently ill words from
the rest, who have no share in the blessing; but sa-
tire, being levelled at all, is never resented for an
offence by any, since every individual person makes
bold to understand it of others, and very wisely re-
moves his particular part of the burden upon the
shoulders of the world, which are broad enough,
and able to bear it. To this purpose, I have some-
times reflected upon the difference between Athens
and England, with respect to the point before us.
In the Attic commonwealth, it was the privilege and
birth-right of every citizen and poet to rail aloud,
and in public, or to expose upon the stage, by name,
any person they pleased, though of the greatest
figure, whether a Creon, an Hyperbolus, an Alci-
biades, or a Demosthenes; but, on the other side,
the least reflecting word let fall against the people in
general, was immediately caught up, and revenged
upon the authors, however considerable for their
quality or their merits. Whereas in England it is just
the reverse of all this. Here, you may securely
display your utmost rhetoric against mankind, in the
face of the world; tell them, "That all are gone
astray; that there is none that doth good, no not
one; that we live in the very dregs of time; that
knavery and atheism are epidemic as the pox; that
honesty is fled with Astræa;" with any other com-
mon-places, equally new and eloquent, which are
furnished by the splendida bilis. [Horace. Spleen.]
And when you have done, the whole audience, far
from being offended, shall return you thanks as a
deliverer of precious and useful truths. Nay, fur-
ther; it is but to venture your lungs, and you may
preach in Covent-garden against foppery and forni-
cation, and something else: against pride and dis-
simulation, and bribery, at Whitehall: you may ex-
pose rapine and injustice in the inns of court chapel:
and in a city pulpit, be as fierce as you please against
avarice, hypocrisy, and extortion. "Tis but a ball
bandied to and fro, and every man carries a racket
about him, to strike it from himself, among the rest
of the company. But, on the other side, whoever
should mistake the nature of things so far as to drop
but a single hint in public, how such a one starved
half the fleet, and half poisoned the rest: how such
a one, from a true principle of love and honour, pays
no debts but for wenches and play: how such a one
has got a clap, and runs out of his estate: how
Paris, bribed by Juno and Venus, loth to offend
either party, slept out the whole cause on the bench:
or, how such an orator makes long speeches in the
senate, with much thought, little sense, and to no
purpose; whoever, I say, should venture to be thus
particular, must expect to be imprisoned for scanda-
lum magnatum; to have challenges sent him; to be
sued for defamation; and to be brought before the
bar of the house.
But I forget that I am expatiating on a subject
wherein I have no concern, having neither a talent
nor an inclination for satire. On the other side, I
am so entirely satisfied with the whole present pro-
cedure of human things, that I have been some years
94
A TALE OF A TUB.
preparing materials towards "A panegyric upon the
World;" to which I intended to add a second part,
entitled, "a modest defence of the Proceedings of
the Rabble in all Ages." Both these I had thoughts
to publish, by way of appendix to the following
treatise; but finding my commonplace book fill much
slower than I had reason to expect, I have chosen
to defer them to another occasion. Besides, I have
been unhappily prevented in that design by a cer-
tain domestic misfortune; in the particulars whereof,
though it would be very seasonable, and much in
the modern way, to inform the gentle reader, and
would also be of great assistance towards extending
this preface into the size now in vogue, which by
rule ought to be large in proportion as the subse-
quent volume is small; yet I shall now dismiss our
impatient reader from any further attendance at the
porch, and, having duly prepared his mind by a pre-
liminary discourse, shall gladly introduce him to
the sublime mysteries that ensue.
August, 1697.
SECTION THE FIRST.
Democritus, dum ridet, philosophatur.
THE INTRODUCTION.
WHOEVER has an ambition to be heard in a crowd,
must press, and squeeze, and thrust, and climb, with
indefatigable pains, till he has exalted himself to a
certain degree of altitude above them. Now in all
assemblies, though you wedge them ever so close,
we may observe this peculiar property, that over
their heads there is room enough, but how to reach
it is the difficult point; it being as hard to get quit
of number as of hell;
-evadere ad auras,
Hoc opus, hic labor est.-VIRGIL.
To this end, the philosopher's way, in all ages,
has been by erecting certain edifices in the air: but,
whatever practice and reputation these kind of
structures have formerly possessed, or may still con-
tinue in, not excepting even that of Socrates, when
he was suspended in a basket to help contemplation,
I think, with due submission, they seem to labour
under two inconveniences. First, That the founda-
tions being laid too high, they have been often out
of sight, and ever out of hearing. Secondly, That
the materials, being very transitory, have suffered
much from inclemencies of air, especially in these
north-west regions.
Therefore, towards the just performance of this
great work, there remain but three methods that I
can think of; whereof the wisdom of our ancestors
being highly sensible, has, to encourage all aspiring
adventurers, thought fit to erect three wooden ma-
chines for the use of those orators who desire to talk
much without interruption. These are, the pulpit,
the ladder, and the stage itinerant. For as to the
bar, though it be compounded of the same matter,
and designed for the same use, it cannot, however,
be well allowed the honour of a fourth, by reason of
its level or inferior situation exposing it to perpetual
interruption from collaterals. Neither can the bench
itself, though raised to a prominency, put in a better
claim, whatever its advocates insist on. For, if they
please to look into the original design of its erection,
and the circumstances or adjuncts subservient to that
design, they will soon acknowledge the present
practice exactly correspondent to the primitive insti-
tution, and both to answer the etymology of the
name, which in the Phoenician tongue is a word of
great signification, importing, if literally interpreted,
"But to return, and view the cheerful skies;
DEN.
In this the task and mighty labour lies.-Dryden.
| the place of sleep; but in common acceptation, a
seat well bolstered and cushioned, for the repose of
old and gouty limbs: senes ut in otia tuta recedant.
Fortune being indebted to them this part of retalia-
tion, that, as formerly they have long talked while
others slept; so now they may sleep as long while
others talk.
But if no other argument could occur to exclude the
bench and the bar from the list of oratorial machines,
it were sufficient that the admission of them would
overthrow a number, which I was resolved to esta-
blish, whatever argument it might cost me; in imi-
tation of that prudent method observed by many
other philosophers and great clerks, whose chief art
in division has been to grow fond of some proper
mystical number, which their imaginations have ren-
dered sacred, to a degree, that they force common
reason to find room for it, in every part of nature;
reducing,
reducing, including, and adjusting every genus
and species within that compass, by coupling some
against their wills, and banishing others at any rate.
Now, among all the rest, the profound number
THREE is that which has most employed my sub-
limest speculations, nor ever without wonderful de-
light. There is now in the press, and will be pub-
lished next term, a panegyrical essay of mine upon
this number; wherein I have, by most convincing
proofs, not only reduced the senses and the elements.
under its banner, but brought over several deserters
from its two great rivals, SEVEN and NINE; the
two climacterics.
Now, the first of these oratorial machines, in place
as well as dignity, is the pulpit. Of pulpits there
are in this island several sorts; but I esteem only
that made of timber from the sylva Caledonia, [Scot-
land,] which agrees very well with our climate. If
it be upon its decay, it is the better both for con-
veyance of sound, and for other reasons to be men-
tioned by and by. The degree of perfection in shape
and size I take to consist in being extremely narrow,
with little ornament; and, best of all, without cover,
(for, by ancient rule, it ought to be the only unco-
vered vessel in every assembly, where it is rightfully
used,) by which means, from its near resemblance
to a pillory, it will ever have a mighty influence on
human ears.
Of ladders I need say nothing: it is observed by
foreigners themselves, to the honour of our country,
that we excel all nations in our practice and under-
standing of this machine. The ascending orators
do not only oblige their audience in the agreeable
delivery, but the whole world in the early publica-
tion of their speeches; which I look upon as the
choicest treasury of our British eloquence, and
whereof, I am informed, that worthy citizen and
bookseller, Mr. John Dunton, hath made a faithful
and painful collection, which he shortly designs to
publish, in twelve volumes in folio, illustrated with
copper-plates. A work highly useful and curious,
and altogether worthy of such a hand."
The last engine of orators is the stage itinerant,>>
erected with much sagacity, sub Jove pluvio, in tri-
viis et quadriviis. It is the great seminary of the
two former, and its orators are sometimes preferred
to the one, and sometimes to the other, in proportion
to their deservings; there being a strict and perpe-
tual intercourse between all three.
a Mr. John Dunton, bookseller. He published his Life and
Errors, in which he mentions the booksellers, publishers, sta-
tioners, and printers in London; and ends with the character
of 17 bookbinders.
b The mountebank's stage, whose orators the author deter-
mines either to the gallows or a conventiole.-H.
In the open air, and in streets where the greatest resort
is -H.
THE INTRODUCTION.
95
From this accurate deduction it is manifest, that
for obtaining attention in public there is of necessity
required a superior position of place. But, although
this point be generally granted, yet the cause is little
agreed in; and it seems to me that very few philoso-
phers have fallen into a true, natural solution of this
phenomenon. The deepest account, and the most
fairly digested of any I have yet met with, is this;
that air being a heavy body, and therefore, according
to the system of Epicurus, [Lucretius, lib. 2.] con-
tinually descending, must needs be more so when
loaded and pressed down by words; which are also
bodies of much weight and gravity, as it is manifest
from those deep impressions they make and leave
upon us; and therefore must be delivered from a due
altitude, or else they will neither carry a good aim,
nor fall down with a sufficient force.
Corpoream quoque enim vocem constare fatendum est,
Et sonitum, quoniam possunt impellere sensus.a
LUCR. Lib. 4.
*
a *
* *
*
of authors are indebted for their fame. Of faction,
* Hiatus in MS.
because
Of poetry, because its orators do
perorare with a song; and because, climbing up by
slow degrees, fate is sure to turn them off, before
they can reach within many steps of the top: and
because it is a preferment attained by transferring of
propriety, and a confounding of meum and tuum.
Under the stage itinerant are couched those pro-
ductions designed for the pleasure and delight of
mortal man; such as, Six-penny-worth of Wit,
Westminster Drolleries, Delightful Tales, Complete
Jesters, and the like; by which the writers of and
for Grub-street have in these latter ages so nobly
triumphed over Time; have clipped his wings,
pared his nails, filed his teeth, turned back his hour-
glass, blunted his scythe, and drawn the hobnails
out of his shoes. It is under this class I have pre-
sumed to list my present treatise, being just come
from having the honour conferred upon me to be
adopted a member of that illustrious fraternity.
Now, I am not unaware how the productions of
the Grub-street brotherhood have of late years fallen
under many prejudices, nor how it has been the per-
And I am the readier to favour this conjecture,
from a common observation, that in the several as-
semblies of these orators nature itself has instructed
the hearers to stand with their mouths open, and
erected parallel to the horizon, so as they may be in-petual employment of two junior start-up societies
tersected by a perpendicular line from the zenith to
the centre of the earth. In which position, if the
audience be well compact, every one carries home a
share, and little or nothing is lost.
I confess there is something yet more refined, in
the contrivance and structure of our modern
theatres. For, first, the pit is sunk below the
stage, with due regard to the institution above de-
duced; that, whatever weighty matter shall be
delivered thence, whether it be lead or gold, may
fall plump into the jaws of certain critics, as I think
they are called, which stand ready opened to devour
them. Then, the boxes are built round, and raised
to a level with the scene, in deference to the ladies;
because, that large portion of wit, laid out in raising
pruriences and protuberances, is observed to run
much upon a line, and ever in a circle. The whin-
ing passions, and little starved conceits, are gently
wafted up by their own extreme levity, to the mid-
dle region, and there fix and are frozen by the frigid
understandings of the inhabitants. Bombastry and
buffoonery, by nature lofty and light, soar highest of
all, and would be lost in the roof, if the prudent
architect had not, with much foresight, contrived
for them a fourth place, called the twelve-penny
gallery, and there planted a suitable colony, who
greedily intercept them in their passage.
to ridicule them and their authors, as unworthy
their established post in the commonwealth of wit
and learning. Their own consciences will easily
inform them whom I mean; nor has the world been
so negligent a looker-on as not to observe the con-
tinual efforts made by the societies of Gresham b
and of Will's to edify a name and reputation upon
the ruin of OURS. And this is yet a more feeling
grief to us, upon the regards of tenderness as well
as of justice, when we reflect on their proceedings
not only as unjust, but as ungrateful, undutiful, and
unnatural. For how can it be forgot by the world
or themselves, to say nothing of our own records,
which are full and clear in the point, that they both
are seminaries not only of our planting, but our
watering too? I am informed, our two rivals have
lately made an offer to enter into the lists with
united forces, and challenge us to a comparison of
books, both as to weight and number. In return to
which, with licence from our president, I humbly
offer two answers: first, we say, the proposal is like
that which Archimedes made upon a smaller affair,d
including an impossibility in the practice; for
where can they find scales of capacity enough for
the first; or an arithmetician of capacity enough for
the second? Secondly, we are ready to accept the
challenge; but with this condition, that a third in-
different person be assigned, to whose impartial
judgment it should be left to decide which society
each book, treatise, or pamphlet, do most properly
belong to. This point, God knows, is very far
from being fixed at present; for we are ready to
Now this physico-logical scheme of oratorial re-
ceptacles or machines contains a great mystery;
being a type, a sign, an emblem, a shadow, a symbol,
bearing analogy to the spacious commonwealth of
writers, and to those methods by which they must
exalt themselves to a certain eminency above the in-produce a catalogue of some thousands, which in all
ferior world. By the pulpit are adumbrated the
writings of our modern saints in Great Britain, as
they have spiritualized and refined them, from the
dross and grossness of sense and human reason.
The matter, as we have said, is of rotten wood;
and that upon two considerations; because it is the
quality of rotten wood to give light in the dark
and secondly, because its cavities are full of worms;
which is a type with a pair of handles, having a re-
spect to the two principal qualifications of the
orator, and the two different fates attending upon
his works.
The ladder is an adequate symbol of faction and
of poetry, to both of which so noble a number
"Tis certain then, that voice that thus can wound
Is all material; body every sound.
common justice ought to be entitled to our frater.
nity, but by the revolted and newfangled writers,
most prefidiously ascribed to the others. Upon all
which, we think it very unbecoming our prudence
that the determination should be remitted to the
authors themselves; when our adversaries, by
briguing and caballing, have caused so universal a
defection from us, that the greatest part of our
society has already deserted to them, and our nearest
a Here is pretended a defect in the manuscript; and this is
very frequent with our author, when he thinks he cannot say
anything worth reading, or when he has no mind to enter on
the subject.
b Gresham College was the place where the Royal Society met.
• Will's coffee-house, in Covent-garden, formerly the place
where the poets usually met.
Viz. About moving the earth.
C
96
A TALE OF A TUB.
friends begin to stand aloof, as if they were half | have made is much greater, having already finished
ashamed to own us.
my annotations upon several dozens; from some of
which I shall impart a few hints to the candid
reader, as far as will be necessary to the conclusion
at which I aim.
This is the utmost I am authorized to say upon so
ungrateful and melancholy a subject; because we
are extremely unwilling to inflame a controversy
whose continuance may be so fatal to the interests
of us all, desiring much rather that things be amica-
bly composed; and we shall so far advance on our
side as to be ready to receive the two prodigals with
open arms whenever they shall think fit to return
from their husks and their harlots; which, I think,
from the present course of their studies," they most
properly may be said to be engaged in; and, like an
indulgent parent, continue to them our affection and
our blessing.
But the greatest maim given to that general recep-
tion which the writings of our society have formerly
received (next to the transitory state of all sublu-
nary things) has been a superficial vein among
many readers of the present age, who will by no
means be persuaded to inspect beyond the surface
and the rind of things; whereas, wisdom is a fox,
who, after long hunting, will at last cost you the
pains to dig out; it is a cheese, which, by how
much the richer, has the thicker, the homelier, and
the coarser coat; and whereof, to a judicious palate,
the maggots are the best: it is a sack-posset,
wherein the deeper you go, you will find it the
sweeter. Wisdom is a hen, whose cackling we
must value and consider, because it is attended with
an egg; but then lastly, it is a nut, which, unless
you choose with judgment, may cost you a tooth,
and pay you with nothing but a worm.
In conse-
quence of these momentous truths, the grubæan
sages have always chosen to convey their precepts
and their arts shut up within the vehicles of types
and fables; which having been perhaps more care-
ful and curious in adorning than was altogether
necessary, it has fared with these vehicles, after the
usual fate of coaches over-finely painted and gilt,
that the transitory gazers have so dazzled their eyes
and filled their imaginations with the outward
lustre, as neither to regard or consider the person or
the parts of the owner within. A misfortune we
undergo with somewhat less reluctancy, because it
has been common to us with Pythagoras, Æsop,
Socrates, and other of our predecessors.
However, that neither the world nor ourselves
may any longer suffer by such misunderstandings, I
have been prevailed on, after much importunity
from my friends, to travel in a complete and labori-
ous dissertation upon the prime productions of our
society; which, beside their beautiful externals, for
the gratification of superficial readers, have darkly
and deeply couched under them the most finished
and refined systems of all sciences and arts; as I do
not doubt to lay open, by untwisting or unwinding,
and either to draw up by exantlation, or display by
incision.
b
This great work was entered upon some years
ago, by one of our most eminent members: he be-
gan with the History of Reynard the Fox, but
neither lived to publish his essay nor to proceed
farther in so useful an attempt; which is very much
to be lamented, because the discovery he made and
communicated with his friends is now universally
received; nor do I think any of the learned will
dispute that famous treatise to be a complete body
of civil knowledge, and the revelation, or rather the
apocalypse, of all state arcana. But the progress I
Virtuoso experiments, and modern comedies.
b The "IIistory of Reynart the Foxe," an admirable thing,
and the design to represent a wise and politic government. It
was translated into English, and printed by Caxton.
The first piece I have handled is that of Tom
Thumb, whose author was a Pythagorean philoso-
pher. This dark treatise contains the whole scheme
of the Metempsychosis, deducing the progress of
the soul through all her stages.
The next is Dr. Faustus, penned by Artephius,
an author bonæ notæ, and an adeptus; he published
it in the nine-hundred-eighty-fourth year of his
age; this writer proceeds wholly by reincrudation,
or in the via humida; and the marriage between
Faustus and Helen does most conspicuously diluci-
date the fermenting of the male and female dragon.
Whittington and his Cat is the work of that
mysterious rabbi, Jehuda Hannasi, containing a de-
fence of the gemara of the Jerusalem misna," and
its just preference to that of Babylon, contrary to
the vulgar opinion.
The Hind and Panther. This is the masterpiece
of a famous writer now living, intended for a com-
plete abstract of sixteen thousand school-men, from
Scotus to Bellarmin.
Tommy Pots. [A popular ballad.] Another
piece, supposed by the same hand, by way of supple-
ment to the former.
The Wise Men of Gotham, cum appendice. This
is a treatise of immense erudition, being the great
original and fountain of those arguments bandied
about both in France and England for a just defence
of the moderns' learning and wit, against the pre-
sumption, the pride and ignorance of the ancients.
This unknown author has so exhausted the subject,
that a penetrating reader will easily discover what-
ever has been written since upon that dispute to be
little more than repetition. An abstract of this
treatise has been lately published by a worthy mem-
ber of our society.
These notices may serve to give the learned reader
an idea, as well as a taste, of what the whole work
is likely to produce; wherein I have now altogether
circumscribed my thoughts and my studies; and, if
I can bring it to a perfection before I die, shall
reckon I have well employed the poor remains of an
unfortunate life. This, indeed, is more than I can
justly expect, from a quill worn to the pith in the
service of the state, in pros and cons upon Popish
plots, and meal-tubs, and exclusion bills, and pas-
sive obedience, and addresses of lives and fortunes,
and prerogative, and property, and liberty of con-
science, and letters to a friend; from an under-
standing and a conscience threadbare and ragged
with perpetual turning; from a head broken in a
hundred places by the malignants of the opposite
factions; and from a body spent with poxes ill
cured, by trusting to bawds and surgeons, who, as it
afterwards appeared, were professed enemies to me
and the government, and revenged their party's
quarrel upon my nose and shins. Fourscore and
eleven pamphlets have I written under three reigns,
and for the service of six-and-thirty factions. But,
finding the state has no farther occasion for me and
my ink, I retire willingly to draw it out into specu-
lations more becoming a philosopher; having, to my
a The chemists say of him in their hooks that he prolonged
his life to a thousand years, and then died voluntarily.
b The gemara is the decision, explanation, or interpretation
of the Jewish rabbis; and the misna is properly the code or
body of the Jewish civil or common law.
• In king Charles the Second's time there was an account of
a presbyterian plot, found in a tub, which then made much
noise.
A TALE OF A TUB.
97
unspeakable comfort, passed a long life with a con-
science void of offence.
But to return. I am assured, from the reader's
candour, that the brief specimen I have given will
easily clear all the rest of our society's productions
from an aspersion grown, as it is manifest, out of
envy and ignorance; that they are of little farther
use or value to mankind beyond the common enter-
tainments of their wit and their style; for these I
am sure have never yet been disputed by our keen-
est adversaries; in both which, as well as the more
profound and mystical part, I have, throughout this
treatise, closely followed the most applauded originals.
And to render all complete, I have, with much
thought and application of mind, so ordered, that
the chief title prefixed to it, I mean that under
which I design it shall pass in the common conver-
sations of court and town, is modelled exactly after
the manner peculiar to our society.
I confess to have been somewhat liberal in the
business of titles, having observed the humour of
multiplying them to bear great vogue among certain
writers, whom I exceedingly reverence. And indeed
it seems not unreasonable that books, the children
of the brain, should have the honour to be christened
with variety of names as well as other infants of
quality. Our famous Dryden has ventured to pro-
ceed a point farther, endeavouring to introduce also
a multiplicity of godfathers; which is an improve-
ment of much more advantage upon a very obvious
account. It is a pity this admirable invention has
not been better cultivated, so as to grow by this
time into general imitation, when such an authority
serves it for a precedent. Nor have my endeavours
been wanting to second so useful an example; but
it seems there is an unhappy expense usually an-
nexed to the calling of a godfather, which was clearly
out of my head, as it is very reasonable to believe.
Where the pinch lay I cannot certainly affirm; but
having employed a world of thoughts and pains to
split my treatise into forty sections, and having en-
treated forty lords of my acquaintance that they
would do me the honour to stand, they all made it a
matter of conscience, and sent me their excuses.
SECTION THE SECOND.
ONCE upon a time there was a man who had three
sons by one wife,a and all at a birth, neither could
the midwife tell certainly which was the eldest.
Their father died while they were young; and upon
his death-bed, calling the lads to him, spoke thus:
"Sons, because I have purchased no estate, nor
was born to any, I have long considered of some
good legacies to bequeath you; and at last, with
much care, as well as expense, have provided each
of you (here they are) a new coat. The christian
religion.] Now, you are to understand that these
coats have two virtues contained in them; one is,
that with good wearing they will last you fresh and
sound as long as you live; the other is, that they
will grow in the same proportion with your bodies,
lengthening and widening of themselves, so as to
be always fit.b Here; let me see them on you be
fore I die. So; very well; pray, children, wear
them clean, and brush them often.c You will find
in my will [the Bible], here it is, full instructions
in every particular concerning the wearing and
management of your coats; wherein you must be
very exact, to avoid the penalties I have ap-
a Peter, Martin, and Jack, represent popery, the church of
England, and protestant dissenters.
bi.e. Admits of decent ceremonies.
с
Keep up the purity of religion.
VOL. 1.
pointed for every transgression or neglect, upon
which your future fortunes will entirely depend. I
have also commanded in my will that you should
live together in one house like brethren and friends,
for then you will be sure to thrive, and not other-
wise."
Here the story says, this good father died, and
the three sons went all together to seek their for-
tunes.
I shall not trouble you with recounting what ad-
ventures they met for the first seven years, any far-
ther than by taking notice that they carefully ob-
served their father's will, and kept their coats in
very good order: that they travelled through several
countries, encountered a reasonable quantity of
giants, and slew certain dragons.
b
Being now arrived at the proper age for producing
themselves, they came up to town, and fell in love
with the ladies, but especially three, who about that
time were in chief reputation; the Duchess d'Argent,
Madame de Grands Titres, and the Countess d'Or-
gueil.a On their first appearance our three adven-
turers met with a very bad reception; and soon
with great sagacity guessing out the reason, they
quickly began to improve in the good qualities of
the town; they
the town; they wrote, and rallied, and rhymed,
and sung, and said, and said nothing; they drank,
and fought, and whored, and slept, and swore, and
took snuff; they went to new plays on the first
night, haunted the chocolate-houses, beat the watch,
lay on bulks, and got claps; they bilked hackney-
coachmen, ran in debt with shopkeepers, and lay
with their wives; they killed bailiffs, kicked fiddlers
down stairs, eat at Locket's, loitered at Will's; they
talked of the drawing-room, and never came there;
dined with lords they never saw; whispered a
duchess,
duchess, and spoke never a word; exposed the
scrawls of their laundress for billets-doux of quality;
came ever just from court, and were never seen in
it; attended the levee sub dio; got a list of peers by
heart in one company, and with great familiarity
retailed them in another. Above all, they con-
stantly attended those committees of senators who
are silent in the house and loud in the coffee-house;
where they nightly adjourn to chew the cud of
politics, and are encompassed with a ring of dis-
ciples, who lie in wait to catch up their droppings.
The three brothers had acquired forty other quali-
fications of the like stamp, too tedious to recount,
accomplished persons in the town; but all would
and by consequence were justly reckoned the most
not suffice, and the ladies aforesaid continued still
inflexible. To clear up which difficulty I must,
with the reader's good leave and patience, have re-
course to some points of weight, which the authors
of that age have not sufficiently illustrated.
d
For about this time it happened a sect arose c
whose tenets obtained and spread very far, especially
in the grand monde, and among everybody of good
their doctrine delivered, did daily create men by a
fashion. They worshipped a sort of idol, who, as
kind of manufactory operation. This idol they
placed in the highest part of the house, on an altar
erected about three foot; he was shown in the pos-
ture of a Persian emperor, sitting on a superficies,
with his legs interwoven under him. This god had
a goose for his ensign; whence it is that some
learned men pretend to deduce his original from
■ Covetousness, ambition, and prido; the three vices that
the ancient fathers inveighed against.
b Noted taverns in London.
This is an occasional satire upon dress and fashion, in
order to introduce what follows.
તે
d By this idol is meant a tailor.
H
98
A TALE OF A TUB.
Jupiter Capitolinus. At his left hand, beneath the
altar, hell seemed to open and catch at the animals
the idol was creating; to prevent which, certain of
his priests hourly flung in pieces of the uninformed
mass, or substance, and sometimes whole limbs
already enlivened, which that horrid gulf insatiably
swallowed, terrible to behold. The goose was also
held a subaltern divinity or deus minorum gentium,
before whose shrine was sacrificed that creature
whose hourly food is human gore, and who is in so
great renown abroad for being the delight and fa-
vourite of the Egyptian Cercopithecus. Millions
of these animals were cruelly slaughtered every day
to appease the hunger of that consuming deity. The
chief idol was also worshipped as the inventor of the
yard and needle; whether as the god of seamen, or
on account of certain other mystical attributes, has
not been sufficiently cleared.
The worshippers of this deity had also a system
of their belief, which seemed to turn upon the fol-
lowing fundamentals. They held the universe to be
a large suit of clothes, which invests everything;
that the earth is invested by the air; the air is in-
vested by the stars; and the stars are invested by
the primum mobile. Look on this globe of earth,
will find it to be a very complete and fashionable
you
dress. What is that which some call land but a fine
coat faced with green? or the sea, but a waistcoat
of water-tabby? Proceed to the particular works
of the creation, you will find how curious journey-
man Nature has been to trim up the vegetable
beaux; observe how sparkish a periwig adorns the
head of a beech, and what a fine doublet of white satin
is worn by the birch. To conclude from all, what is
man himself but a micro-coat, or rather a complete
suit of clothes with all its trimmings? As to his body
there can be no dispute; but examine even the ac-
quirements of his mind, you will find them all con-
tribute in their order towards furnishing out an
exact dress to instance no more; is not religion a
cloak, honesty a pair of shoes worn out in the dirt,
self-love a surtout, vanity a shirt, and conscience a
pair of breeches, which, though a cover for lewdness
as well as nastiness, is easily slipt down for the ser-
vice of both ?b
Is it
These postulata being admitted, it will follow in
due course of reasoning that those beings, which the
world calls improperly suits of clothes, are in reality
the most refined species of animals; or, to proceed
higher, that they are rational creatures or men.
For, is it not manifest that they live, and move,
and talk, and perform all other offices of human
life? are not beauty, and wit, and mien, and breed-
ing, their inseparable proprieties? in short, we see
nothing but them, hear nothing but them.
not they who walk the streets, fill up parliament-,
coffee-, play-, bawdy - houses? It is true, in-
deed, that these animals, which are vulgarly called
suits of clothes, or dresses, do, according to certain
compositions, receive different appellations. If one
of them be trimmed up with a gold chain, and a red
gown, and a white rod, and a great horse, it is called
a lord-mayor: if certain ermines and furs be
placed in a certain position, we style them a judge;
and so an apt conjunction of lawn and black satin
we entitle a bishop.
Others of these professors, though agreeing in the
main system, were yet more refined upon certain
branches of it; and held that man was an animal
compounded of two dresses, the natural and celestial
suit, which were the body and the soul: that the
Alluding to the word microcosm, or a little world, as man
has been called by philosophers.
ก
A satire upon the fanatics.
|
|
soul was the outward, and the body the inward
clothing; that the latter was ex traduce; but the
former of daily creation and circumfusion; this last
they proved by scripture, because in them we live,
and move, and have our being; as likewise by phi-
losophy, because they are all in all, and all in every
part.
part. Besides, said they, separate these two and
you will find the body to be only a senseless un-
savoury carcase: by all which it is manifest that
the outward dress must needs be the soul.
To this system of religion were tagged several
subaltern doctrines, which were entertained with
great vogue: as particularly the faculties of the mind.
were deduced by the learned among them in this
manner; embroidery was sheer wit, gold fringe was
agreeable conversation, gold lace was repartee, a
huge long periwig was humour, and a coat full of
powder was very good raillery-all which required
abundance of finesse and delicatesse to manage with
advantage, as well as a strict observance after times
and fashions.
I have, with much pains and reading, collected
out of ancient authors this short summary of a body
of philosophy and divinity, which seems to have
been composed by a vein and race of thinking very
different from any other systems either ancient or
modern. And it was not merely to entertain or
satisfy the reader's curiosity, but rather to give him
light into several circumstances of the following
story; that, knowing the state of dispositions and
opinions in an age so remote, he may better com-
prehend those great events which were the issue of
them. I advise, therefore, the courteous reader to
peruse with a world of application, again and again,
whatever I have written upon this matter.
leaving these broken ends, I carefully gather up the
chief thread of my story and proceed.
And so
These opinions, therefore, were so universal, as
well as the practices of them, among the refined
part of court and town, that our three brother ad-
venturers, as their circumstances then stood, were
strangely at a loss. For, on the one side, the three
ladies they addressed themselves to, whom we have
named already, were ever at the very top of the
fashion, and abhorred all that were below it but
the breadth of a hair. On the other side, their
father's will was very precise; and it was the main
precept in it, with the greatest penalties annexed,
not to add to or diminish from their coats one
thread, without a positive command in the will.
Now, the coats their father had left them were, it is
true, of very good cloth, and besides so neatly sewn,
you would swear they were all of a piece; but at
the same time very plain, and with little or no orna-
ment: and it happened that before they were a
month in town great shoulder-knots came up a.
straight all the world was shoulder-knots-no ap-
proaching the ladies' ruelles without the quota of
shoulder-knots. That fellow, cries one, has no soul;
where is his shoulder-knot? Our three brethren
soon discovered their want by sad experience, meet-
ing in their walks with forty mortifications and
indignities. If they went to the playhouse the door-
keeper showed them into the twelvepenny gallery ;
if they called a boat, says a waterman, "I am first
sculler;" if they stepped to the Rose to take a bottle,
the drawer would cry, "Friend, we sell no ale;'
if they went to visit a lady, a footman met them at
the door with "Pray send up your message."
this unhappy case they went immediately to consult
their father's will, read it over and over, but not a
word of the shoulder-knot. What should they do?
In
a Popery is here exposed. Peter begins his pranks with
adding a shoulder-knot to his coat.
A TALE OF A TUB.
99
-what temper should they find?-obedience was
absolutely necessary, and yet shoulder-knots ap-
peared extremely requisite. After much thought
one of the brothers, who happened to be more book-
learned than the other two, said he had found an
expedient. It is true, said he, there is nothing here
in this will, totidem verbis, making mention of
shoulder-knots: but I dare conjecture we may find
them inclusive, or totidem syllabis. This distinction
was immediately approved by all, and so they fell
again to examine; but their evil star had so directed
the matter that the first syllable was not to be found
in the whole writings. Upon which disappointment,
he who found the former evasion took heart, and
said, "Brothers, there are yet hopes; for though we
cannot find them totidem verbis, nor totidem syllabis,
I dare engage we shall make them out tertio modo or
totidem literis. This discovery was also highly com-
mended, upon which they fell once more to the scru-
tiny, and soon picked out S,H,O,U,L,D,E,R; when
the same planet, enemy to their repose, had won-
derfully contrived that a K was not to be found.
Here was a weighty difficulty! but the distinguish-
ing brother, for whom we shall hereafter find a name,
now his hand was in, proved by a very good argu-
ment that K was a modern, illegitimate letter, un-
known to the learned ages, nor anywhere to be
found in ancient manuscripts. It is true, said he,
the word Calendæ hath in Q. V. C. a been sometimes
written with a K, but erroneously; for in the best
copies it has been ever spelt with a C. And, by
consequence, it was a gross mistake in our language
to spell knot with a K; but that from henceforward
he would take care it should be written with a C.b
Upon this all farther difficulty vanished-shoulder-
knots were made clearly out to be jure paterno, and
our three gentlemen swaggered with as large and as
flaunting ones as the best. But, as human happi-
ness is of a very short duration, so in those days
were human fashions, upon which it entirely de-
pends. Shoulder-knots had their time, and we
must now imagine them in their decline; for a cer-
tain lord came just from Paris, with fifty yards of
gold lace upon his coat, exactly trimmed after the Next winter a player, hired for the purpose by the
court fashion of that month In two days all man- corporation of fringe-makers, acted his part in a new
kind appeared closed up in bars of gold lace:c who- comedy, all covered with silver fringe, and, ac-
ever durst peep abroad without his complement of cording to the laudable custom, gave rise to that
gold lace was as scandalous as a -, and as ill re- fashion. Upon which the brothers, consulting their
ceived among the women: what should our three father's will, to their great astonishment found these
knights do in this momentous affair? they had suffi- words; item, I charge and command my said three
ciently strained a point already in the affair of sons to wear no sort of silver fringe upon or about
shoulder-knots: upon recourse to the will, nothing their said coats, &c., with a penalty, in case of dis-
appeared there but altum silentium. That of the obedience, too long here to insert. However, after
shoulder-knots was a loose, flying, circumstantial some pause, the brother so often mentioned for his
point; but this of gold lace seemed too considerable erudition, who was well skilled in criticisms, had
an alteration without better warrant; it did aliquo found in a certain author, which he said should be
modo essentia adhærere, and therefore required a nameless, that the same word which in the will is
positive precept. But about this time it fell out
called fringe does also signify a broomstick : and
that the learned brother aforesaid had read Aristotelis
doubtless ought to have the same interpretation in
dialectica, and especially that wonderful piece de this paragraph. This another of the brothers dis-
interpretatione, which has the faculty of teaching its liked, because of that epithet silver, which could
readers to find out a meaning in everything but not he humbly conceived in propriety of speech be
itself; like commentators on the Revelations, who reasonably applied to a broomstick: but it was re-
proceed prophets without understanding a syllable plied upon him that this epithet was understood in a
of the text. Brothers, said he, you are to be in-mythological and allegorical sense. However, he
formed that of wills duo sunt genera, nuncupatoryd
and scriptory that in the scriptory will here before
us there is no precept or mention about gold lace,
conceditur: but si idem affirmetur de nuncupatorio,
negatur. For, brothers, if you remember, we heard a
fellow say when we were boys that he heard my
father's man say that he would advise his sons to
get gold lace on their coats as soon as ever they
could procure money to buy it. By G-! that is
very true, cries the other; I remember it perfectly
well, said the third. And so without more ado
they got the largest gold lace in the parish, and
walked about as fine as lords.
A while after there came up all in fashion a pretty
sort of flame-coloured satin b for linings; and the
mercer brought a pattern of it immediately to our
three gentlemen; An please your worships, said he,
my lord Conway and Sir John Walters had linings
out of this very piece last night: it takes wonder-
fully, and I shall not have a remnant left enough to
make my wife a pincushion by to-morrow morning
at ten o'clock. Upon this they fell again to rum-
mage the will, because the present case also required
a positive precept-the lining being held by ortho-
After
dox writers to be of the essence of the coat.
a long search they could fix upon nothing to the
matter in hand, except a short advice of their father
in the will to take care of fire and put out their
candles before they went to sleep. This, though a
good deal for the purpose, and helping very far to-
wards self-conviction, yet not seeming wholly of
force to establish a command (being resolved to
avoid further scruple as well as future occasion for
scandal), says he that was the scholar, I remember
to have read in wills of a codicil annexed, which is
indeed a part of the will, and what it contains has
equal authority with the rest. Now, I have been
considering of this same will here before us, and I
cannot reckon it to be complete for want of such a
codicil: I will therefore fasten one in its proper
place very dexterously—I have had it by me some
time-it was written by a dog-keeper of my grand-
father's, and talks a great deal, as good luck would
|
have it, of this very flame-coloured satin. The pro-
ject was immediately approved by the other two;
an old parchment scroll was tagged on according to
art in the form of a codicil annexed, and the satin
bought and worn.
:
a Quibusdam veteribus codicibus.-Ancient manuscript.
The schoolmen are ridiculed.
• New methods of forcing and perverting scripture.
d
By this is meant tradition.
f
objected again why their father should forbid them
When the papists cannot find anything which they want
in scripture they go to oral tradition.
The fire of purgatory; and praying for the dead is set
forth as linings.
• That is, to take care of hell-to subdue their lusts.
d Pomps and habits of temporal grandeur prohibited in the
gospel.
A prohibition of idolatry,
f Glosses and interpretations of scripture.
H 2
100
A TALE OF A TUB.
to wear a broomstick on their coats-a caution that
seemed unnatural and impertinent; upon which he
was taken up short, as one that spoke irreverently
of a mystery, which doubtless was very useful and
significant, but ought not to be over-curiously pricd
into or nicely reasoned upon. And, in short, their
father's authority being now considerably sunk,
this expedient was allowed to serve as a lawful dis-
pensation for wearing their full proportion of silver
fringe.
SECTION THE THIRD.
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS.
ALTHOUGH I have been hitherto as cautious as I
rules and methods of writing laid down by the ex-
could, upon all occasions, most nicely to follow the
ample of our illustrious moderns; yet has the un-
happy shortness of my memory led me into an error,
from which I must immediately extricate myself,
before I can decently pursue my principal subject.
A while after was revived an old fashion, long an-
I confess with shame it was an unpardonable omis-
tiquated, of embroidery with Indian figures of men,
sion to proceed so far as I have already done before
women, and children [images of saints]. Here they
I had performed the duc discourses, expostulatory,
remembered but too well how their father had always supplicatory, or deprecatory, with my good lords the
abhorred this fashion; that he made several para-neglect, I do here make bold humbly to present
critics. Towards some atonement for this grievous
graphs on purpose, importing his utter detestation
of it, and bestowing his everlasting curse to his sons
whenever they should wear it. For all this, in a few
days they appeared higher in the fashion than any-
body else in the town. But they solved the matter
by saying that these figures were not at all the same
with those that were formerly worn and were meant
in the will. Besides, they did not wear them in the
sense as forbidden by their father; but as they were
a commendable custom, and of great use to the
public. That these rigorous clauses in the will did
therefore require some allowance and a favourable
interpretation, and ought to be understood cum
grano salis.
a
But fashions perpetually altering in that age, the
scholastic brother grew weary of searching farther
evasions, and solving everlasting contradictions.
Resolved, therefore, at all hazards, to comply with
the modes of the world, they concerted matters to-
gether, and agreed unanimously to lock up their
father's will in a strong box," brought out of Greece
or Italy, I have forgotten which, and trouble them-
selves no farther to examine it, but only refer to its
authority whenever they thought fit. In consequence
whereof, a while after it grew a general mode to
wear an infinite number of points, most of them
tagged with silver :c upon which the scholar pro-
nounced, ex cathedrû,d that points were absolutely
jure paterno, as they might very well remember.
is true, indeed, the fashion prescribed somewhat
more than were directly named in the will; however,
that they, as heirs-general of their father, had power
to make and add certain clausese for public emolu-
ment, though not deducible, totidem verbis, from the
letter of the will, or else multa absurda sequerentur.
This was understood for canonical, and therefore, on
the following Sunday, they came to church all covered
with points.
It
The learned brother, so often mentioned, was
reckoned the best scholar in all that or the next
street to it, insomuch as, having run something
behindhand in the world, he obtained the favour of
a certain lord [Constantine the Great] to receive
him into his house, and to teach his children. A
while after the lord died, and he, by long practice
upon his father's will, found the way of contriving a
deed of conveyance of that house to himself and his
heirs; upon which he took possession, turned the
young squires out, and received his brothers in their
stead.
a An excuse for the worship of images by the Church of
Rome.
The papists forbade the use of scriptnre in the vulgar tongue:
Peter locks up his father's will in a strong box, brought out of
Greece or Italy; because the new Testament is written in
Greek, and the vulgar Latin is in the language of old Italy.
Rites of the church of Rome.
4 The popes in their decretals and bulls.
0
Alluding to the abuse of power in the Roman church.
f The pope's challenge of temporal sovereignty.
them with a short account of themselves and their
art, by looking into the original and pedigree of the
word, as it is generally understood among us; and
very briefly considering the ancient and present state
thereof.
By the word critic, at this day so frequent in all
conversations, there have sometimes been distin-
guished three very different species of mortal men,
according as I have read in ancient books and pam-
phlets. For first, by this term were understood such
persons as invented or drew up rules for themselves
and the world, by observing which a careful reader
might be able to pronounce upon the productions of
the learned, form his taste to a true relish of the
sublime and the admirable, and divide every beauty
of matter or of style from the corruption that apes
it in their common perusal of books singling out
the errors and defects, the nauseous, the fulsome,
the dull, and the impertinent, with the caution of a
man that walks through Edinburgh streets in a
morning, who is indeed as careful as he can to
watch diligently and spy out the filth in his way;
not that he is curious to observe the colour and
complexion of the ordure, or take its dimensions,
much less to be paddling in or tasting it; but only
with a design to come out as cleanly as he may.
These men secm, though very erroneously, to have
understood the appellation of critic in a literal sense;
that one principal part of his office was to praise and
acquit; and that a critic, who sets up to read only
for an occasion of censure and reproof is a creature
as barbarous as a judge who should take up a reso-
lution to hang all men that came before him upon a
trial.
Again, by the word critic have been meant the
restorers of ancient learning from the worms, and
graves, and dust of manuscripts.
Now the races of those two have been for some
ages utterly extinct; and besides, to discourse any
farther of them would not be at all to my purpose.
The third and noblest sort is that of the TRUE
CRITIC, whose original is the most ancient of all.
Every true critic is a hero born, descending in a
bris, who begat Zoilus, who begat Tigellius, who
direct line from a celestial stem by Momus and Hy-
Rymer, and Wotton, and Perrault, and Dennis; who
begat Etcætera the elder; who begat Bentley, and
begat Etcætera the younger.
And these are the critics from whom the common-
wealth of learning has in all ages received such im-
mense benefits, that the gratitude of their admirers
placed their origin in Heaven, among those of Her-
cules, Theseus, Perseus, and other great deservers
of mankind. But heroic virtue itself has not been
exempt from the obloquy of evil tongues. For it
has been objected that those ancient heroes, famous
for their combating so many giants, and dragons, and
robbers, were in their own persons a greater nuisance
to mankind than any of those monsters they sub
A TALE OF A TUB.
101
dued; and therefore, to render their obligations more
complete, when all other vermin were destroyed,
should, in conscience, have concluded with the same
justice upon themselves. As Hercules most gene-
rously did, and upon that score procured to himself
more temples and votaries than the best of his fel-
lows. For these reasons I suppose it is why some
have conceived it would be very expedient for the
public good of learning that every true critic, as soon
as he had finished his task assigned, should imme-
diately deliver himself up to ratsbane, or hemp, or
leap from some convenient altitude; and that no
man's pretensions to so illustrious a character should
by any means be received before that operation were
performed.
Now, from this heavenly descent of criticism, and
the close analogy it bears to heroic virtue, it is easy
to assign the proper employment of a true ancient
genuine critic; which is, to travel through this vast
world of writings; to pursue and hunt those mon-
strous faults bred within them; to drag out the
lurking errors, like Cacus from his den; to multiply
them like Hydra's heads; and rake them together
like Augeas's dung: or else drive away a sort of
dangerous fowl, who have a perverse inclination to
plunder the best branches of the tree of knowledge,
like those stymphalian birds that eat up the fruit.
These reasonings will furnish us with an adequate
definition of a true critic: that he is discoverer and
collector of writers' faults; which may be farther
put beyond dispute by the following demonstration;
that whoever will examine the writings in all kinds,
wherewith this ancient sect has honoured the world,
shall immediately find, from the whole thread and
tenor of them, that the ideas of the authors have
been altogether conversant and taken up with the
faults, and blemishes, and oversights, and mistakes
of other writers: and, let the subject treated on be
whatever it will, their imaginations are so entirely
possessed and replete with the defects of other pens,
that the very quintessence of what is bad does of
necessity distil into their own; by which means the
whole appears to be nothing else but an abstract of
the criticisms themselves have made.
Having thus briefly considered the original and
office of a critic, as the word is understood in its
most noble and universal acceptation, I proceed to
refute the objections of those who argue from the
silence and pretermission of authors; by which they
pretend to prove that the very art of criticism, as
now exercised, and by me explained, is wholly
modern; and consequently that the critics of Great
Britain and France have no title to an original so
ancient and illustrious as I have deduced. Now,
if I can clearly make out, on the contrary, that the
ancient writers have particularly described both the
person and the office of a true critic, agreeably to the
definition laid down by me, their grand objection,
from the silence of authors, will fall to the ground.
I confess to have, for a long time, borne a part in
this general error: from which I should never have
acquitted myself, but through the assistance of our
noble moderns! whose most edifying volumes I turn
undefatigably over night and day for the improve-
ment of my mind and the good of my country:
these have, with unwearied pains, made many useful
searches into the weak sides of the ancients, and
given us a comprehensive list of them. Besides,
they have proved beyond contradiction that the very
finest things delivered of old have been long since
invented and brought to light by much later pens;
and that the noblest discoveries those ancients ever
& Sec Wotton of ancient and modern learning.-[Note by
the author.]
made, of art or of nature, have all been produced by
the transcending genius of the present age. Which
clearly shows how little merit those ancients can
justly pretend to, and takes off that blind admira-
tion paid them by men in a corner who have the
unhappiness of conversing too little with present
things. Reflecting maturely upon all this, and
taking in the whole compass of human nature, I
easily concluded that these ancients, highly sensible
of their many imperfections, must needs have en-
deavoured, from some passages in their works, to
obviate, soften, or divert the censorious reader, by
satire or panegyric upon the true critics, in imita-
tion of their masters the moderns. Now, in the
commonplaces of both these I was plentifully in-
structed by a long course of useful study in prefaces
and prologues; and therefore immediately resolved
to try what I could discover of either by a diligent
perusal of the most ancient writers, and especially
those who treated of the carliest times. Here I
found to my great surprise, that although they all
entered, upon occasion, into particular descriptions
of the true critic, according as they were governed
by their fears or their hopes, yet whatever they
touched of that kind was with abundance of caution,
adventuring no farther than mythology and hiero-
glyphic. This, I suppose, gave ground to superfi-
cial readers for urging the silence of authors against
the antiquity of the true critic, though the types are
so opposite, and the applications so necessary and
natural, that it is not easy to conceive how any
reader of a modern eye and taste could overlook
❘ them. I shall venture from a great number to pro-
duce a few, which, I am very confident, will put this
question beyond dispute.
He
It well deserves considering that these ancient
writers, in treating enigmatically upon this subject,
have generally fixed upon the very same hieroglyph,
varying only the story, according to their affections
or their wit. For first; Pausanias is of opinion that
the perfection of writing correct was entirely owing
to the institution of critics; and that he can possibly
mean no other than the true critic is, I think, mani-
fest enough from the following description.
says, they were a race of men who delighted to nib-
ble at the superfluities and excrescencies of books,
which the learned at length observing, took warning,
of their own accord, to lop the luxuriant, the rotten,
the dead, the sapless, and the overgrown branches
from their works. But now all this he cunningly
shades under the following allegory; that the Nau
plians in Argos learned the art of pruning their
vines, by observing, that when an ASS had browsed
upon one of them, it thrived the better and bore
fairer fruit. But Herodotus, holding the very same
hieroglyph, speaks much plainer, and almost in ter-
minis. He has been so bold as to tax the true
critics of ignorance and malice; telling us openly,
for I think nothing can be plainer, that in the
western part of Lybia there were ASSES with
horns upon which relation Ctesias yet refines,
mentioning the very same animal about India, add-
ing that, whereas all other ASSES wanted a gall,
these horned ones were so redundant in that part,
that their flesh was not to be eaten, because of its
extreme bitterness.
Now, the reason why those ancient writers treated
this subject only by types and figures was, because
they durst not make open attacks against a party so
potent and so terrible as the critics of those ages
were; whose very voice was so dreadful that a
legion of authors would tremble and drop their pens
at the sound; for so Herodotus tells us expressly in
another place, how a vast army of Scythians was put
102
A TALE OF A TUB.
to flight in a panic terror hy the braying of an ASS.
From hence it is conjectured by certain profound
philologers that the great awe and reverence paid to
a true critic by the writers of Britain have been de-
rived to us from those our Scythian ancestors. In
short, this dread was so universal, that in process of
time those authors who had a mind to publish their
sentiments more freely, in describing the true critics
of their several ages, were forced to leave off the use
of the former hieroglyph, as too nearly approaching
the prototype, and invented other terms instead
thereof, that were more cautious and mystical: so,
Diodorus, speaking to the same purpose, ventures no
farther than to say that in the mountains of Heli-
con there grows a certain weed which bears a
flower of so damned a scent as to poison those who
offer to smell to it. Lucretius gives exactly the
same relation:
Est etiam in magnis Heliconis montibus arbos,
Floris odore hominem tetro consueta necare."
Lib. 6.
But Ctesias, whom we lately quoted, has been
a great deal bolder; he had been used with much
severity by the true critics of his own age, and
therefore could not forbear to leave behind him at
least one deep mark of his vengeance against the
whole tribe. His meaning is so near the surface,
that I wonder how it possibly came to be overlooked
by those who deny the antiquity of the true critics.
For, pretending to make a description of many strange
animals about India, he has set down these re-
markable words: Among the rest says he, there is a
serpent that wants teeth, and consequently cannot
bite; but if its vomit, to which it is much addicted,
happens to fall upon anything, a certain rottenness
or corruption ensues: these serpents are generally
found among the mountains where jewels grow, and
they frequently emit a poisonous juice: whereof
whoever drinks, that person's brains fly out of his
nostrils.
There was also among the ancients a sort of critics,
not distinguished in species from the former, but in
growth or degree, who seem to have been only the
tyros or junior scholars; yet, because of their differ-
ing employments, they are frequently mentioned as
a sect by themselves. The usual exercise of these
younger students was to attend constantly at theatres,
and learn to spy out the worst parts of the play,
whereof they were obliged carefully to take note,
and render a rational account to their tutors.
Fleshed at these smaller sports, like young wolves,
they grew up in time to be nimble and strong
enough for hunting down large game. For it has
been observed, both among ancients and moderns,
that a true critic has one quality in common with a
whore and an alderman, never to change his title or
his nature; that a gray critic has been certainly a
green one, the perfections and acquirements of his
age being only the improved talents of his youth;
like hemp, which some naturalists inform us is bad
for suffocations, though taken but in the seed. I
esteem the invention, or at least the refinement of
prologues, to have been owing to these younger pro-
ficients, of whom Terence makes frequent and
honourable mention, under the name of malevoli.
Now, it is certain the institution of the true cri-
tics was of absolute necessity to the commonwealth
of learning. For all human actions seem to be
divided, like Themistocles and his company; one
man can fiddle, and another can make a small town
a great city; and he that cannot do either one or the
other deserves to be kicked out of the creation.
a Near Helicon, and round the learned hill,
Grow trees whose blossoms with their odour kill.
The avoiding of which penalty has doubtless given
the first birth to the nation of critics; and withal,
an occasion for their secret detractors to report that
a true critic is a sort of mechanic, set up with a
stock and tools for his trade at as little expense as a
tailor; and that there is much analogy between the
utensils and abilities of both that the tailor's hell
is the type of a critic's common place-book, and his
wit and learning held forth by the goose; that it
requires at least as many of these to the making up
of one scholar, as of the others to the composition of
a man; that the valour of both is equal, and their
weapons nearly of a size. Much may be said in
answer to those invidious reflections; and I can
positively affirm the first to be a falsehood: for, on
the contrary, nothing is more certain than that it
requires greater layings out to be free of the critic's
company than of any other you can name.
For as,
to be a true beggar, it will cost the richest candidate
every groat he is worth; so, before one can com-
mence a true critic, it will cost a man all the good
qualities of his mind; which, perhaps for a less pur-
chase, would be thought but an indifferent bar-
gain.
Having thus amply proved the antiquity of criti-
cism, and described the primitive state of it, I shall
now examine the present condition of this empire,
and show how well it agrees with its ancient self.
A certain author, whose works have many ages
since been entirely lost, does, in his fifth book and
eighth chapter, say of critics that their writings are
the mirrors of learning. This I understand in a
literal sense, and suppose our author must mean,
that whoever designs to be a perfect writer must in-
spect into the books of critics, and correct his in-
vention there, as in a mirror. Now, whoever con-
siders that the mirrors of the ancients were made
of brass, and sine mercurio, may presently apply the
two principal qualifications of a true modern critic,
and consequently must needs conclude that these
have always been, and must be for ever, the same.
For brass is an emblem of duration, and, when it is
skilfully burnished, will cast reflection from its own
superficies, without any assistance of mercury from
behind. All the other talents of a critic will not
require a particular mention, being included or
easily deducible to these. However, I shall con-
clude with three maxims, which may serve both as
characteristics to distinguish a true modern critic
from a pretender, and will be also of admirable use
to those worthy spirits who engage in so useful and
honourable an art.
The first is, that criticism, contrary to all other
faculties of the intellect, is ever held the truest and
best when it is the very first result of the critic's
mind; as fowlers reckon the first aim for the surest,
and seldom fail of missing the mark if they stay not
for a second. Secondly, the true critics are known
by their talent of swarming about the noblest writers,
to which they are carried merely by instinct, as a
rat to the best cheese, or as a wasp to the fairest
fruit. So when the king is on horseback, he is sure
to be the dirtiest person of the company; and they
that make their court best are such as bespatter him
most.
Lastly, a true critic, in the perusal of a book, is
like a dog at a feast, whose thoughts and stomach
are wholly set upon what the guests fling away, and
consequently is apt to snarl most when there are the
fewest bones.
Thus much, I think, is sufficient to serve by way
of address to my patrons, the true modern critics;
and may very well atone for my past silence, as well
as that which I am likely to observe for the future. I
A TALE OF A TUB.
103
hope I have deserved so well of their whole body as
to meet with generous and tender usage at their
hands. Supported by which expectation, I go on
boldly to pursue those adventures already so happily
begun.
SECTION THE FOURTH.
supper for three nights as soon as he went to bed
he was carefully to lie on one side, and when he
grew weary to turn upon the other; he must also
duly confine his two eyes to the same object; and
by no means break wind at both ends together
without manifest occasion. These prescriptions
diligently observed, the worms would void insen-
sibly by perspiration, ascending through the brain."
A third invention was the erecting of a whisper-
I HAVE now, with much pains and study, conducted
the reader to a period where he must expect to hearing-office for the public good and ease of all such
of great revolutions. For no sooner had our learned
brother, so often mentioned, got a warm house of
his own over his head than he began to look big and
to take mightily upon him; insomuch that unless the
gentle reader, out of his great candour, will please a
little to exalt his idea, I am afraid he will hence-
forth hardly know the hero of the play when he
happens to meet him; his part, his dress, and his
mien being so much altered.
He told his brothers he would have them to know
that he was their elder, and consequently his father's
sole heir; nay, a while after, he would not allow them
to call him brother, but Mr. PETER [the pope], and
then he must be styled Father PETER; and some-
times, My Lord PETER. To support this gran-
deur, which he soon began to consider could not
be maintained without a better fonde than what he
was born to, a after much thought, he cast about at
last to turn projector and virtuoso, wherein he so
well succeeded, that many famous discoveries, pro-
jects, and machines, which bear great vogue and
practice at present in the world, are owing entirely
to lord PETER'S invention. I will deduce the
best account I have been able to collect of the chief
among them, without considering much the order
they came out in; because I think authors are not
well agreed as to that point.
I hope, when this treatise of mine shall be trans-
lated into foreign languages (as I may without
vanity affirm that the labour of collecting, the faith-
fulness in recounting, and the great usefulness of
the matter to the public, will amply deserve that
justice), that the worthy members of the several
academies abroad, especially those of France and
Italy, will favourably accept these humble offers
for the advancement of universal knowledge. I do
also advertise the most reverend fathers, the Eastern
missionaries, that I have, purely for their sakes,
made use of such words and phrases as will best
admit an easy turn into any of the oriental lan-
guages, especially the Chinese. And so I proceed
with great content of mind, upon reflecting how
much emolument this whole globe of the earth is
likely to reap by my labours.
The first undertaking of lord Peter was, to pur-
chase a large continent [purgatory], lately said to
have been discovered in terra australis incognita.
This tract of land he bought at a very great penny-
worth from the discoverers themselves (though some
pretended to doubt whether they had ever been
there), and then retailed it into several cantons to
certain dealers, who carried over colonies, but were
all shipwrecked in the voyage. Upon which lord
Peter sold the said continent to other customers
again, and again, and again, and again, with the
same success.b
The second project I shall mention was his so-
vereign remedy for the worms, especially those in
the spleen. The patient was to eat nothing after
a The pope's pretension to supremacy.
b The imaginary place between heaven and hell.
• Penance and absolution are played upon under the notion
of a sovereign remedy.
as are hypochondriacal or troubled with the colic;
as likewise of all eavesdroppers, physicians, mid-
wives, small politicians, friends fallen out, repeating
poets, lovers happy or in despair, bawds, privy-
counsellors, pages, parasites, and buffoons; in short,
of all such as are in danger of bursting with too
much wind. An ass's head was placed so conve-
niently that the party affected might easily with his
mouth accost either of the animal's ears; to which
he was to apply close for a certain space, and by a
fugitive faculty, peculiar to the ears of that animal,
receive immediate benefit, either by eructation, or
expiration, or evomitation.
Another very beneficial project of lord Peter's
dulgences], martyrs of the modern zeal, volumes of
was, an office of insurance for tobacco-pipes [in-
poetry, shadows,
and rivers; that these, nor
any of these, shall receive damage by fire. Whence
our friendly societies may plainly find themselves to
be only transcribers from this original; though the
one and the other have been of great benefit to the
undertakers, as well as of equal to the public.
Lord PETER was also held the original author
of puppets and raree-shows [ceremonies and pro-
cessions]; the great usefulness whereof being so
generally known, I shall not enlarge farther upon
this particular.
But another discovery, for which he was much
renowned, was his famous universal pickle. For,
having remarked how your common pickle in use
among housewives was of no farther benefit than to
preserve dead flesh and certain kinds of vegetables,
Peter, with great cost as well as art, had contrived
a pickle proper for houses, gardens, towns, men,
women, children, and cattle; wherein he could pre-
serve them as sound as insects in amber. Now,
this pickle, to the taste, the smell, and the sight, ap-
peared exactly the same with what is in common
service for beef, and butter, and herrings, and has
been often that way applied with great success; but,
for its many sovereign virtues, was a quite different
thing. For Peter would put in a certain quantity
of his powder pimperlimpimp, after which it never
failed of success. The operation was performed by
spargefaction [sprinkling], in a proper time of the
moon. The patient who was to be pickled, if it
spiders, rats, and weasels; if the party affected
were a house, would infallibly be preserved from all
were a dog, he should be exempt from mange,
and madness, and hunger. It also infallibly took
away all scabs, and lice, and scalled heads from
children, never hindering the patient from any duty,
either at bed or board.
But of all Peter's rarities he most valued a certain
set of bulls [papal], whose race was by great fortune
preserved in a lineal descent from those that guarded
a IIere the author ridicules the penances of the church of
Rome.
b The application of relics to physical cures.
e The author ridicules auricular confession; and the priest
who takes it is described by the ass's head.
d Holy water he calls a universal pickle.
e And because holy water differs only in consecration from
common water, he tells us that his pickle by the powder of
pimperlimpimp receives new virtues.
104
A TALE OF A TUB.
the golden fleece. Though some, who pretended to
observe them curiously, doubted the breed had not
been kept entirely chaste, because they had degene-
rated from their ancestors in some qualities, and had
acquired others very extraordinary, by a foreign |
mixture. The bulls of Colchis are recorded to have
brazen feet; but whether it happened by ill pasture
and running, by an allay from intervention of other
parents, from stolen intrigues; whether a weakness
in their progenitors had impaired the seminal virtue,
or by a decline necessary through a long course of
time, the originals of nature being depraved in these
latter sinful ages of the world; whatever was the
cause, it is certain that lord Peter's bulls were ex-
tremely vitiated by the rust of time in the metal of
their feet, which was now sunk into common lead.a
However, the terrible roaring peculiar to their
lineage was preserved; as likewise that faculty of
breathing out fire from their nostrils, which, not-
withstanding many of their detractors took to be a
feat of art, to be nothing so terrible as it appeared,
proceeding only from their usual course of diet,
which was of squibs and crackers. [Fulminations
of the pope.] However, they had two peculiar
marks, which extremely distinguished them from
the bulls of Jason, and which I have not met toge-
ther in the description of any other monster beside
that in Horace:
b
Varias inducere plumas ;-and Atrum desinat in piscem.
For these had fishes' tails, yet upon occasion could
outfly any bird in the air. Peter put these bulls
upon several employs. Sometimes he would set
them a-roaring to fright naughty boys,d and make
them quiet. Sometimes he would send them out upon
errands of great importance; where, it is wonderful
to recount (and perhaps the cautious reader may think
much to believe it), an appetitus sensibilis deriving
itself through the whole family from their noble an-
cestors, guardians of the golden fleece, they con-
tinued so extremely fond of gold, that if Peter sent
them abroad, though it were only upon a compli-
ment, they would roar, and spit, and belch, and
piss, and fart, and snivel out fire, and keep a per-
petual coil, till you flung them a bit of gold; but
then, pulveris exigui jactu, they would grow calm
and quiet as lambs. In short, whether by secret
connivance or encouragement from their master, or
out of their own liquorish affection to gold, or both,
it is certain they were no better than a sort of sturdy,
swaggering beggars; and where they could not pre-
vail to get an alms, would make women miscarry,
and children fall into fits, who to this very day
usually call sprights and hobgoblins by the name of
bull-beggars. They grew at last so very trouble-
some to the neighbourhood, that some gentlemen of
the north-west got a parcel of right English bull-
dogs, and baited them so terribly that they felt it
ever after.
I must needs mention one more of lord Peter's
projects, which was very extraordinary, and dis-
covered him to be master of a high reach and pro-
found invention. Whenever it happened that any
rogue of Newgate was condemned to be hanged,
Peter would offer him a pardon for a certain sum of
money; which when the poor caitiff had made all
Alludes to the leaden seal at the bottom of the popish
bulls; for excommunications of heretical princes are all signed
with lead, and the seal of the fisherman, and therefore said to
have leaden feet and fishes' tails.
These passages, and many others, no doubt, must be con-
strued as antichristian by the church of Rome.
Alluding to the expression sub signo piscatoris.
с
That is, kings who incurred his displeasure.
e Heretics or schismatics as the pope calls protestants.
shifts to scrape up and send, his lordship would
return a piece of paper in this form a
"To all mayors, sheriffs, jailors, constables, bai-
liffs, hanginen, &c. Whereas we are informed that
A.B. remains in the hands of you, or some of you,
under the sentence of death. We will and com-
mand you, upon sight hereof, to let the said prisoner
depart to his own habitation, whether he stands
condemned for murder, sodomy, rape, sacrilege,
incest, treason, blasphemy, &c., for which this shall
be your sufficient warrant; and if you fail hereof,
G— d—mn you and yours to all eternity. And so
we bid you heartily farewell. Your most humble
Emperor PETER.”
man's man,
The wretches, trusting to this, lost their lives and
money too.
I desire of those whom the learned among pos-
terity will appoint for commentators upon this ela-
borate treatise, that they will proceed with great
caution upon certain dark points, wherein all who
are not verè adepti may be in danger to form rash
and hasty conclusions, especially in some mysterious
paragraphs, where certain arcana are joined for
brevity sake, which in the operation must be divided.
And I am certain that future sons of art will return
large thanks to my memory for so grateful, so useful
an innuendo.
b
It will be no difficult part to persuade the reader
that so many worthy discoveries met with great suc-
cess in the world; though I may justly assure him
that I have related much the smallest number; my
design having been only to single out such as will
be of most benefit for public imitation, or which best
served to give some idea of the reach and wit of the
inventor. And therefore it need not be wondered
at if by this time lord Peter was become exceeding
rich: but, alas! he had kept his brain so long and
so violently upon the rack, that at last it shook itself,
and began to turn round for a little ease.
In short,
what with pride, projects, and knavery, poor Peter was
grown distracted, and conceived the strangest ima-
ginations in the world. In the height of his fits, as
it is usual with those who run mad out of pride, he
would call himself God Almighty, and sometimes
monarch of the universe. I have seen him (says
my author) take three old high-crowned hats, and
clap them all on his head three story high, with a
huge bunch of keys at his girdle,d and an angling-
rod in his hand. In which guise, whoever went to
take him by the hand in the
take him by the hand in the way of salutation, Peter
with much grace, like a well-educated spaniel, would
present them with his foot, and if they refused his
civility, then he would raise it as high as their chaps,
and give them a damned kick on the mouth, which
has ever since been called a salute. Whoever walked
by without paying him their compliments, having a
wonderful strong breath, he would blow their hats
off into the dirt. Meantime his affairs at home went
upside down, and his two brothers had a wretched
time; where his first boutade® was to kick both
their wives one morning out of doors, and his own
too; and in their stead gave orders to pick up the first
three strollers that could be met with in the streets."
A while after he nailed up the cellar-door, and would
not allow his brothers a drop of drink to their vic-
tuals. Dining one day at an alderman's in the
This is a copy of a general pardon, signed servus servorum.
The pope is not only allowed to be the vicar of Christ,
but by several divines is called God upon earth, and othe
blasphemous titles.
The triple mitre or crown.
a The keys of the church.
A sudden jerk, or lash of a horse.
f Allowed concubines.
The pope's refusing the cup to the laity.
A TALE OF A TUB.
105
เ
brethren, much delighted to see him so readily ap-
peased, returned their most humble thanks, and said
they would be glad to pledge his lordship.
"That
you shall," said Peter; "I am not a person to re-
fuse you anything that is reasonable: wine, mode-
rately taken, is a cordial; here is a glass a-piece for
you; it is true natural juice from the grape, none
of
your damned vintner's brewings." Having spoke
thus, he presented to each of them another large
dry crust, bidding them drink it off, and not be
bashful, for it would do them no hurt. The two
brothers, after having performed the usual office in
such delicate conjunctures, of staring a sufficient period
at lord Peter and each other, and finding how mat-
ters were likely to go, resolved not to enter on a
new dispute, but let him carry the point as he
pleased; for he was now got into one of his mad fits,
and to argue or expostulate farther would only serve
to render him a hundred times more untractable.
I have chosen to relate this worthy matter in all
its circumstances, because it gave a principal occa-
sion to that great and famous rupture [the Reform-
ation] which happened about the same time among
these brethren, and was never afterwards made
up. But of that I shall treat at large in another
section.
city, Peter observed him expatiating, after the man-
ner of his brethren, in the praises of his sirloin of
beef. "Beef," said the sage magistrate, "is the king
"is the king
of meat; beef comprehends in it the quintessence of
partridge, and quail, and venison, and pheasant, and
plum-pudding, and custard." When Peter came
home he would needs take the fancy of cooking up
this doctrine into use, and apply the precept, in de-
fault of a sirloin, to his brown loaf.
"Bread," says
he, "dear brothers, is the staff of life; in which bread
is contained, inclusive, the quintessence of beef,
the quintessence of beef,
mutton, veal, vension, partridge, plum-pudding,
partridge, plum-pudding,
and custard; and, to render all complete, there is
intermingled a due quantity of water, whose cru-
dities are also corrected by yeast or barm, through
which means it becomes a wholesome fermented
liquor, diffused through the mass of the bread."
Upon the strength of these conclusions, next day at
dinner was the brown loaf served up in all the for-
mality of a city feast. "Come, brothers," said Peter,
"fall to, and spare not; here is excellent good
mutton [Transubstantiation]; or hold, now my
hand is in, I will help you." At which word, in
At which word, in
much ceremony, with fork and knife, he carves out
two good slices of a loaf, and presents each on a
plate to his brothers. The elder of the two, not
suddenly entering into lord Peter's conceit, began
with very civil language to examine the mystery.
"My lord," said he, "I doubt, with great submis-
sion, there may be some mistake."-" What," says
Peter,"
you are pleasant; come then, let us hear
this jest your head is so big with."-" None in the
world, my lord; but, unless I am very much de-
ceived, your lordship was pleased a while ago to let
fall a word about mutton, and I would be glad to
see it with all my heart."-" How," said Peter, ap-
pearing in great surprise, "I do not comprehend
this at all." Upon which the younger interposing
to set the business aright, "My lord," said he, " my
brother, I suppose, is hungry, and longs for the
mutton your lordship has promised us to dinner.”-
CC Pray,"
" said Peter, "take me along with you;
either you are both mad, or disposed to be merrier
than I approve of; if you there do not like your
piece I will carve you another; though I should
take that to be the choice bit of the whole shoulder.”
--"What then, my lord," replied the first, "iting that it stopped sometimes to bait) above two
seems this is a shoulder of mutton all this while ?"
-"Pray, sir," says Peter, "eat your victuals, and
leave off your impertinence, if you please, for I am
not disposed to relish it at present:" but the other
could not forbear, being over-provoked at the af-
fected seriousness of. Peter's countenance : "Bynally that will not believe me."
G-, my lord," said he, "I can only say, that to
my eyes, and fingers, and teeth, and nose, it seems
to be nothing but a crust of bread." Upon which
the second put in his word: "I never saw a piece
of mutton in my life so nearly resembling a slice
from a twelvepenny loaf."-" Look ye, gentlemen,"
cries Peter, in a rage; "to convince you what a
couple of blind, positive, ignorant, wilful puppies
you are, I will use but this plain argument: by G-,
it is true, good, natural mutton as any in Leadenhall-
market;
and G confound you both eternally if
you offer to believe otherwise." Such a thundering
proof as this left no farther room for objection; the
two unbelievers began to gather and pocket up their
mistake as hastily as they could. Why, truly,"
said the first, "upon more mature consideration-"
"Ay," says the other, interrupting him, "now I
have thought better on the thing, your lordship seems
to have a great deal of reason."-" Very well," said
Peter;
here, boy, fill me a beer-glass of claret;
here's to you both, with all my heart." The two
However, it is certain that lord Peter, even in
his lucid intervals, was very lewdly given in his
common conversation, extremely wilful and positive,
and would at any time rather argue to the death
than allow himself once to be in an error. Besides,
he had an abominable faculty of telling huge palpable
lies upon all occasions; and not only swearing to
the truth, but cursing the whole company to hell if
they pretended to make the least scruple of believing
him. One time he swore he had a cowa at home
which gave as much milk at a meal as would fill
three thousand churches; and, what was yet more
extraordinary, would never turn sour. Another time.
he was telling of an old sign-post, that belonged to
his father, with nails and timber enough in it to
build sixteen large men of war. Talking one day
of Chinese waggons, which were made so light as to
sail over mountains, " Z-ds," said Peter, "where's
the wonder of that? By G-, I saw a large house
of lime and stone travel over sea and land (grant-
b
thousand German leagues." And that which was
the good of it, he would swear desperately all the
while that he never told a lie in his life; and at
every word," By G-, gentlemen, I tell you no-
thing but the truth; and the d-1 broil them eter-
In short, Peter grew so scandalous, that all the
neighbourhood began in plain words to say he was
no better than a knave. And his two brothers,
long weary of his ill usage, resolved at last to leave
him; but first they humbly desired a copy of their
father's will, which had now lain by neglected time
out of mind. Instead of granting this request he
called them damned sons of whores, rogues, traitors,
and the rest of the vile names he could muster
However, while he was abroad one day upon his
projects, the two youngsters watched their oppor-
tunity, made a shift to come at the will, and took a
copia vera [translation of the scriptures], by which
they presently saw how grossly they had been
abused; their father having left them equal heirs,
and strictly commanded that whatever they got
up.
a The ridiculous multiplying of the Virgin Mary's milk
among the papists.
b By the sign-post is meant the cross of our blessed Saviour.
• The chapel of Lorotto, which they tell us travelled from
the Holy Land to Italy.
106
A TALE OF A TUB.
should lie in common among them all. Pursuant
to which their next enterprise was to break open
the cellar-door, and get a little good drink," to spirit
and comfort their hearts. In copying the will they
had met another precept against whoring, divorce,
and separate maintenance; upon which their next
work was to discard their concubines, and send for
their wives. While all this was in agitation there
enters a solicitor from Newgate, desiring lord Peter
would please procure a pardon for a thief that was
to be hanged to-morrow.c But the two brothers
told him he was a coxcomb to seek pardons from a
fellow who deserved to be hanged much better than
his client; and discovered all the method of that
imposture in the same form I delivered it a while
ago, advising the solicitor to put his friend upon ob-
taining a pardon from the king. In the midst of
all this clutter and revolution, in comes Peter with
a file of dragoons at his heels," and gathering from
all hands what was in the wind, he and his gang,
after several millions of scurrilities and curses, not
very important here to repeat, by main force very
fairly kicked them both out of doors [out of the
church], and would never let them come under his
roof from that day to this.
SECTION THE FIFTH.
A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND.
WE, whom the world is pleased to honour with the
title of modern authors, should never have been able
to compass our great design of an everlasting re-
membrance and never-dying fame, if our endeavours
had not been so highly serviceable to the general
good of mankind. This, O universe! is the adven-
turous attempt of me thy secretary ;
Quemvis perferre laborem.
Suadet, et inducit noctes vigilare serenas.
To this end I have some time since, with a world
of pains and art, dissected the carcase of human
nature, and read many useful lectures upon the
several parts, both containing and contained: till at
last it smelt so strong I could preserve it no longer.
Upon which I have been at a great expense to fit
up all the bones with exact contexture and in due
symmetry; so that I am ready to show a very com-
plete anatomy thereof to all curious gentlemen and
others. But not to digress farther in the midst of a
digression, as I have known some authors enclose
digressions in one another like a nest of boxes, I
do affirm that, having carefully cut up human nature,
I have found a very strange, new, and important
discovery, that the public good of mankind is per-
formed by two ways, instruction and diversion. And
I have farther proved, in my said several readings
(which perhaps the world may one day see, if I can
prevail on any friend to steal a copy, or on certain
gentlemen of my admirers to be very importunate),
that as mankind is now disposed, he receives much
greater advantage by being diverted than instructed;
his epidemical diseases being fastidiosity, amorphy,
and oscitation; whereas in the present universal
empire of wit and learning, there seems but little
matter left for instruction. However, in compliance
with a lesson of great age and authority, I have at-
tempted carrying the point in all its heights; and
accordingly, throughout this divine treatise, have
• Administered the cup to the laity.
୯
Allowed marriages of priests.
• Beginning of the Reformation.
a Directed penitents not to trust to pardons and absolutions.
By Peter's dragoons is meant the civil power,
C
|
|
skilfully kneaded up both together, with a layer of
utile and a layer of dulce.
When I consider how exceedingly our illustrious
moderns have eclipsed the weak glimmering lights
of the ancients, and turned them out of the road of
all fashionable commerce, to a degree that our choice
town wits, of most refined accomplishments, are in
grave dispute whether there have been ever any
ancients or not; in which point we are likely to re-
ceive wonderful satisfaction from the most useful
labours and lucubrations of that worthy modern,
Dr. Bentley I say, when I consider all this, I can-
not but bewail that no famous modern has ever yet
attempted a universal system, in a small portable
volume, of all things that are to be known, or be-
lieved, or imagined, or practised in life.
I am,
however, forced to acknowledge, that such an en-
terprise was thought on some time ago by a great
philosopher of O. Brazile. The method he pro-
posed was, by a certain curious receipt, a nostrum,
which, after his untimely death, I found among his
papers; and do here, out of my great affection to
the modern learned, present them with it, not doubt-
ing it may one day encourage some worthy undertaker.
You take fair correct copies, well bound in calf-
skin and lettered at the back, of all modern bodies
of arts and sciences whatsoever, and in what lan-
guage you please. These you distil in balneo
Maria, infusing quintessence of poppy Q. S., toge-
ther with three pints of Lethe, to be had from the
apothecaries. You cleanse away carefully the sor-
des and caput mortuum, letting all that is volatile
evaporate. You preserve only the first running,
which is again to be distilled seventeen times, till
what remains will amount to about two drams.
This you keep in a glass phial, hermetically sealed,
for one-and-twenty days. Then you begin your
catholic treatise, taking every morning fasting, first
shaking the phial, three drops of this elixir, snuffing
it strongly up your nose. It will dilate itself about
the brain (where there is any) in fourteen minutes,
and you immediately perceive in your head an
infinite number of abstracts, summaries, compen-
diums, extracts, collections, medullas, excerpta quæ-
dams, florilegias, and the like, all disposed into
great order, and reducible upon paper.
I must needs own it was by the assistance of this
arcanum that I, though otherwise impar, have ad-
ventured upon so daring an attempt, never achieved
or undertaken before, but by a certain author called
Homer; in whom, though otherwise a person not
without some abilities, and, for an ancient, of a tole-
rable genius, I have discovered many gross errors
which are not to be forgiven his very ashes, if by
chance any of them are left. For whereas we are
assured he designed his work for a complete body of
all knowledge, human, divine, political, and me-
chanic, it is manifest he has wholly neglected some,
and been very imperfect in the rest. For first of
all, as eminent a cabalist as his disciples would re-
present him, his account of the opus magnum is
extremely poor and deficient; he seems to have
read but very superficially either Sendivogus, Beh-
men, or Anthroposophia Theomagica. He is also
quite mistaken about the sphæra pyroplastica, a ne-
glect not to be atoned for; and if the reader will
admit so severe a censure, vix crederem autorem
hunc unquam audivisse ignis vocem. His failings
are not less prominent in several parts of the me-
An imaginary island, supposed to be seen at intervals by
the inhabitants of the isle of Arran; and, like the Painters'
Wives' Island, placed in some unknown part of the ocean.
A treatise written by a Welsh gentleman of Cambridge.
mere rant.
A TALE OF A TUB.
107
chanics. For, having read his writings with the
utmost application usual among modern wits, I
could never yet discover the least direction about
the structure of that useful instrument, a save-all;
for want of which, if the moderns had not lent
their assistance, we might yet have wandered in the
dark. But I have still behind a fault far more no-
torious to tax this author with; I mean his gross
ignorance in the common laws of this realm, and in
the doctrine as well as discipline of the church of
England. A defect indeed, for which both he and
all the ancients stand most justly censured by my
worthy and ingenious friend Mr. Wotton, Bachelor
of Divinity, in his incomparable Treatise of Ancient
and Modern Learning: a book never to be suffi-
ciently valued, whether we consider the happy turns
and flowings of the author's wit, the great usefulness
of his sublime discoveries upon the subject of flies
and spittle, or the laborious eloquence of his style.
And I cannot forbear doing that author the justice
of my public acknowledgments for the great helps
and liftings I had out of his incomparable piece,
while I was penning this treatise.
But beside these omissions in Homer already
mentioned, the curious reader will also observe
several defects in that author's writings, for which
he is not altogether so accountable. For whereas
every branch of knowledge has received such won-
derful acquirements since his age, especially within
these last three years, or thereabouts, it is almost
impossible he could be so very perfect in modern
discoveries as his advocates pretend. We freely
acknowledge him to be the inventor of the compass,
of gunpowder, and the circulation of the blood: but
I challenge any of his admirers to show me in all
his writings a complete account of the spleen;
does he not also leave us wholly to seek in the art
of political wagering? What can be more defective
and unsatisfactory than his long dissertation upon
tea? And as to his method of salivation without
mercury so much celebrated of late, it is, to my own
knowledge and experience, a thing very little to be
relied on.
It was to supply such momentous defects that I
have been prevailed on, after long solicitation, to
take pen in hand; and I dare venture to promise,
the judicious reader shall find nothing neglected
here that can be of use upon any emergency of life.
I am confident to have included and exhausted all
that human imagination can rise or fall to. Parti-
cularly, I recommend to the perusal of the learned
certain discoveries that are wholly untouched by
others; whereof I shall only mention, among a great
many more, my new help for smatterers, or the art
of being deep-learned and shallow-read. A curious
invention about mouse-traps. A universal rule of
reason, or every man his own carver; together with
a most useful engine for catching of owls. All
which, the judicious reader will find largely treated
on in the several parts of this discourse.
I hold myself obliged to give as much light as is
possible into the beauties and excellencies of what I
am writing; because it is become the fashion and
humour most applauded among the first authors of
this polite and learned age, when they would correct
the ill-nature of critical, or inform the ignorance of
courteous readers. Besides, there have been several
famous pieces lately published, both in verse and
prose, wherein, if the writers had not been pleased,
out of their great humanity and affection to the
public, to give us a nice detail of the sublime and
the admirable they contain, it is a thousand to one
whether we should ever have discovered one grain
of either. For my own particular, I cannot deny
|
|
that whatever I have said upon this occasion had
been more proper in a preface, and more agreeable
to the mode which usually directs it thither. But I
here think fit to lay hold on that great and honour-
able privilege of being the last writer; I claim an
absolute authority in right, as the freshest modern,
which gives me a despotic power over all authors
before me. In the strength of which title I do
utterly disapprove and declare against that perni-
cious custom of making the preface a bill of fare to
the book. For I have always looked upon it as a
high point of indiscretion in monster-mongers,
and other retailers of strange sights, to hang out a
fair large picture over the door, drawn after the life,
with a most eloquent description underneath this
has saved me many a three-pence; for my curiosity
was fully satisfied, and I never offered to go in,
though often invited by the urging and attending
orator, with his last moving and standing piece of
rhetoric :-Sir, upon my word we are just going to
begin. Such is exactly the fate at this time of pre-
faces, epistles, advertisements, introductions, prole-
gomenas, apparatuses, to the readers.
This expe-
dient was admirable at first; our great Dryden has
long carried it as far as it would go, and with
incredible success. He has often said to me in
confidence, that the world would have never sus-
pected him to be so great a poet, if he had not
assured them so frequently in his prefaces that it
was impossible they could either doubt or forget it.
Perhaps it may be so; however, I much fear his
instructions have edified out of their place, and
taught men to grow wiser in certain points where
he never intended they should; for it is lamentable
to behold with what a lazy scorn many of the yawn-
ing readers of our age do now-a-days twirl over
forty or fifty pages of preface and dedication, (which
is the usual modern stint,) as if it were so much
Latin. Though it must be also allowed, on the
other hand, that a very considerable number is
known to proceed critics and wits by reading no-
thing else. Into which two factions I think all
present readers may justly be divided. Now, for
myself, I profess to be of the former sort; and there-
fore, having the modern inclination to expatiate
upon the beauty of my own productions, and dis-
play the bright parts of my discourse, I thought best
to do it in the body of the work; where, as it now
lies, it makes a very considerable addition to the
bulk of the volume; a circumstance by no means to
be neglected by a skilful writer.
Having thus paid my due deference and acknow-
ledgment to an established custom of our newest
authors, by a long digression unsought for, and a
universal censure unprovoked; by forcing into the
light, with much pains and dexterity, my own ex-
cellencies and other men's defaults, with great jus-
tice to myself and candour to them, I now happily
resume my subject, to the infinite satisfaction both
of the reader and the author.
SECTION THE SIXTH.
WE left lord Peter in open rupture with his two
brethren; both for ever discarded from his house,
and resigned to the wide world, with little or nothing
to trust to. Which are circumstances that render
them proper subjects for the charity of a writer's
pen to work on; scenes of misery ever affording the
fairest harvest for great adventures. And in this the
world may perceive the difference between the in-
tegrity of a generous author and that of a common
friend. The latter is observed to adhere closely in
prosperity, but on the decline of fortune to drop
108
A TALE OF A TUB.
suddenly off. Whereas the generous author, just on
the contrary, finds his hero on the dunghill, from
thence by gradual steps raises him to a throne, and
then immediately withdraws, expecting not so much
as thanks for his pains; in imitation of which ex-
ample, I have placed lord Peter in a noble house,
given him a title to wear and money to spend.
There I shall leave him for some time; returning
where common charity directs me, to the assistance
of his two brothers at their lowest ebb. However, I
shall by no means forget my character of an histo-
rian to follow the truth step by step, whatever hap-
pens, or wherever it may lead me.
The two exiles, so nearly united in fortune and
interest, took a lodging together; where, at their
first leisure, they began to reflect on the numberless
misfortunes and vexations of their life past, and
could not tell on the sudden to what failure in their
conduct they ought to impute them; when, after
some recollection, they called to mind the copy of
their father's will, which they had so happily reco-
vered. This was immediately produced, and a firm
resolution taken between them to alter whatever
was already amiss, and reduce all their future mea-
sures to the strictest obedience prescribed therein.
The main body of the will (as the reader cannot
easily have forgot) consisted in certain admirable
rules about the wearing of their coats; in the
perusal whercof, the two brothers at every period
duly comparing the doctrine with the practice, there
was never seen a wider difference between two
things; horrible downright transgressions of every
point. Upon which they both resolved, without
farther delay, to fall immediately upon reducing the
whole exactly after their father's model.
But here it is good to stop the hasty reader, ever
impatient to see the end of an adventure before we
writers can duly prepare him for it. I am to record
that these two brothers began to be distinguished at
this time by certain names. One of them desired to
be called MARTIN [Martin Luther], and the
other took the appellation of JACK [John Calvin].
These two had lived in much friendship and agree-
ment under the tyranny of their brother Peter, as
it is the talent of fellow-sufferers to do; men in mis-
fortune being like men in the dark, to whom all
colours are the same: but when they came forward
into the world, and began to display themselves to
each other and to the light, their complexions ap-
peared extremely different; which the present pos-
ture of their affairs gave them sudden opportunity to
discover.
lace, and ribbons, and fringe, and embroidery, and
points; I mean only those tagged with silver,a for
the rest fell off. Now this material circumstance,
having been forgot in due place, as good fortune has
ordered, comes in very properly here when the two
brothers are just going to reform their vestures into
the primitive state prescribed by their father's
will.
They both unanimously entered upon this great
work, looking sometimes on their coats; and some-
times on the will. Martin laid the first hand; at
one twitch brought off a large handful of points; and,
with a second pull, stripped away ten dozen yards
of fringe. But when he had gone thus far he de-
murred a while: he knew very well there yet re-
mained a great deal more to be done; however, the
first heat being over, his violence began to cool, and
he resolved to proceed more moderately in the rest
of the work, having already narrowly escaped a
swinging rent, in pulling off the points, which,
being tagged with silver (as we have observed be-
fore), the judicious workman had, with much saga-
city, double sewn, to preserve them from falling.c
Resolving therefore to rid his coat of a huge quan-
tity of gold-lace, he picked up the stitches with
much caution, and diligently gleaned out all the
loose threads as he went, which proved to be a
work of time. Then he fell about the embroidered
Indian figures of men, women, and children; against
which, as you have heard in its due place, their
father's testament was extremely exact and severe;
these, with much dexterity and application, were,
after a while, quite eradicated or utterly defaced.á
For the rest, where he observed the embroidery to
be worked so close as not to be got away without
damaging the cloth, or where it served to hide or
strengthen any flaw in the body of the coat, con-
tracted by the perpetual tampering of workmen
upon it, he concluded the wisest course was to let
it remain, resolving in no case whatsoever that the
substance of the stuff should suffer injury; which he
thought the best method for serving the true intent
and meaning of his father's will. And this is the
nearest account I have been able to collect of Mar-
tin's proceedings upon this great revolution.
But his brother Jack, whose adventures will be so
extraordinary as to furnish a great part in the re-
mainder of this discourse, entered upon the matter
with other thoughts and a quite different spirit.
For the memory of lord Peter's injuries produced a
degree of hatred and spite which had a much
greater share of inciting him than any regards after
But here the severe reader may justly tax me as a his father's commands; since these appeared, at
writer of short memory, a deficiency to which a truc best, only secondary and subservient to the other.
modern cannot but of necessity be a little subject. However, for this medley of humour he made a
Because memory, being an employment of the shift to find a very plausible name, honouring it
mind upon things past, is a faculty for which the with the title of zeal; which is perhaps the most
learned in our illustrious age have no manner of significant word that has been ever yet produced in
occasion, who deal entirely with invention, and
any language: as I think I have fully proved in my
strike all things out of themselves, or at least by excellent analytical discourse upon that subject;
collision from each other: upon which account we wherein I have deduced a histori-theo-physi-logical
think it highly reasonable to produce our great for- account of zeal, showing how it first proceeded from
getfulness as an argument unanswerable for our a notion into a word, and thence, in a hot summer,
great wit. I ought in method to have informed the ripened into a tangible substance. This work, con-
reader, about fifty pages ago, of a fancy lord Petertaining three large volumes in folio, I design very
took, and infused into his brothers, to wear on their
coats whatever trimmings came up in fashion;
never pulling off any as they went out of the mode,
but keeping on all together, which amounted in
time to a medley the most antic you can possibly
conceive; and this to a degree, that upon the time
of their falling out there was hardly a thread of the
original coat to be seen: but an infinite quantity of during the reign of Edward VI.
The Romish ceremonies multiplied.
a
shortly to publish by the modern way of subscrip-
tion, not doubting but the nobility and gentry of
the land will give me all possible encouragement;
Points tagged with silver are doctrines that promote the
greatness and wealth of the church.
b Alluding to the commencement of the Reformation.
The dissolution of the monasteries occasioned insurrections
a The abolition of the worship of saints.
A TALE OF A TUB.
109
having had already such a taste of what I am able to
perform.
I record, therefore, that brother Jack, brimful of
this miraculous compound, reflecting with indigna-
tion upon Peter's tyranny, and, farther provoked by
the despondency of Martin, prefaced his resolutions to
this purpose. "What," said he, "a rogue that locked
up his drink, turned away our wives, cheated us of
our fortunes; palmed his damned crusts upon us
for mutton; and at last kicked us out of doors;
must we be in his fashions, with a pox! a rascal, be-
sides, that all the street cries out against." Having
thus kindled and inflamed himself as high as possi- |
ble, and by consequence in a delicate temper for
beginning a reformation, he set about the work im-
mediately; and in three minutes made more de-
spatch than Martin had done in as many hours.
For, courteous reader, you are given to understand
that zeal is never so highly obliged as when you set
it a-tearing; and Jack, who doted on that quality
in himself, allowed it at this time its full swing.
Thus it happened that, stripping down a parcel of
gold lace a little too hastily, he rent the main body
of his coat from top to bottom; and whereas his
talent was not of the happiest in taking up a stitch,
he knew no better way than to darn it again with
packthread and a skewer. But the matter was yet
infinitely worse (I record it with tears) when he
proceeded to the embroidery: for, being clumsy by
nature, and of temper impatient; withal, beholding
millions of stitches that required the nicest hand and
sedatest constitution to extricate; in a great rage he
tore off the whole piece, cloth and all, and flung it
into the kennel, and furiously thus continued his
career: "Ah, good brother Martin," said he, "do as
I do, for the love of God; strip, tear, pull, rend, flay
off all, that we may appear as unlike that rogue
Peter as it is possible; I would not for a hundred
pounds carry the least mark about me that might
give occasion to the neighbours of suspecting that I
was related to such a rascal.” But Martin, who at
this time happened to be extremely phlegmatic and
sedate, begged his brother, of all love, not to damage
his coat by any means; for he never would get such
another desired him to consider that it was not
their business to form their actions by any reflection
upon Peter, but by observing the rules prescribed
in their father's will. That he should remember
Peter was still their brother, whatever faults or in-
juries he had committed; and therefore they should
by all means avoid such a thought as that of taking
measures for good and evil from no other rule than
of opposition to him. That it was true, the testa-
ment of their good father was very exact in what
related to the wearing of their coats: yet it was no
less penal and strict in prescribing agreement, and
friendship, and affection between them. And there-
fore, if straining a point were at all dispensible, it
would certainly be so rather to the advance of
unity than increase of contradiction.
MARTIN had still proceeded as gravely as he
began, and doubtless would have delivered an ad-
mirable lecture of morality, which might have ex-
ceedingly contributed to my reader's repose both
of body and mind, the true ultimate end of ethics;
but Jack was already gone a flight-shot beyond his
patience. And as in scholastic disputes nothing
serves to rouse the spleen of him that opposes so
much as a kind of pedantic affected calmness in the
respondent; disputants being for the most part like
unequal scales, where the gravity of one side ad-
vances the lightness of the other, and causes it to fly
up and kick the beam; so it happened here that the
weight of Martin's argument exalted Jack's levity,
and made him fly out, and spurn against his brother's
moderation. In short, Martin's patience put Jack
in a rage; but that which most afflicted him was,
to observe his brother's coat so well reduced into the
state of innocence; while his own was either wholly
rent to his shirt, or those places which had escaped
his cruel clutches were still in Peter's livery. So
that he looked like a drunken beau, half rifled by bul-
lies; or like a fresh tenant of Newgate, when he has
refused the payment of garnish; or like a discovered
shoplifter, left to the mercy of Exchange women ;ª
or like a bawd in her old velvet petticoat, resigned
into the secular hands of the mobile. Like any, or
like all of these, a medley of rags, and lace, and
rents, and fringes, unfortunate Jack did now ap-
pear: he would have been extremely glad to see his
coat in the condition of Martin's, but infinitely
gladder to find that of Martin in the same predicament
with his. However, since neither of these was
likely to come to pass, he thought fit to lend the
whole business another turn, and to dress up neces-
sity into a virtue. Therefore, after as many of the
fox's arguments" as he could muster up, for bringing
Martin to reason, as he called it; or, as he meant it,
into his own ragged, bobtailed condition; and ob-
serving he said all to little purpose; what, alas! was
left for the forlorn Jack to do,
left for the forlorn Jack to do, but, after a million of
scurrilities against his brother, to run mad with
spleen, and spite, and contradiction. To be short,
here began a mortal breach between these two.
Jack went immediately to new lodgings, and in a
few days it was for certain reported that he had run
out of his wits. In a short time after he appeared
abroad, and confirmed the report by falling into the
oddest whimseys that ever a sick brain conceived.
And now the little boys in the streets began to
salute him with several names. Sometimes they
would call him Jack the bald [Calvin]; sometimes,
Jack with a lantern; sometimes, Dutch Jack;d
sometimes, French Hugh [Hugonots]; sometimes,
Tom the beggar; and sometimes, Knocking Jack of
the north [John Knox]. And it was under one, or
some, or all of these appellations, which I leave the
learned reader to determine, that he has given rise
to the most illustrious and epidemic sect of Æolists;
who, with honourable commemoration, do still ac-
knowledge the renowned JACK for their author
and founder. Of whose original, as well as princi-
ples, I am now advancing to gratify the world with
a very particular account.
-Melleo contingens cuncta lepore.
SECTION THE SEVENTH.
A DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS.
I HAVE Sometimes heard of an Iliad in a nutshell;
but it has been my fortune to have much oftener
seen a nut-shell in an Iliad. There is no doubt that
human life has received most wonderful advantages
from both; but to which of the two the world is
chiefly indebted I shall leave among the curious as
a problem worthy of their utmost inquiry. For the
invention of the latter I think the commonwealth of
learning is chiefly obliged to the great modern im-
provement of digressions: the late refinements in
knowledge running parallel to those of diet in
The galleries over the piazzas in the late Royal Exchange
were filled with shops, kept chiefly by women, in the manuer
of the Exeter Change in the Strand, which is no more to be
seen, but, in its place, Exeter Hall.
The fox in the fable, who, caught in a trap, lost his tail,
and used arguments to persuade the rest to cut off theirs.
All who pretend to inward light.
d Jack of Leyden, who gave rise to the anabaptists.
• The Guouses, by which name some protestants in Flanders
were called.
110
A TALE OF A TUB.
1
our nation, which, among men of a judicious taste,
are dressed up in various compounds, consisting in
soups and olios, fricassees and ragouts.
It is true, there is a sort of morose, detracting,
ill-bred people, who pretend utterly to disrelish
these polite innovations; and as to the similitude
from diet, they allow the parallel, but are so bold to
pronounce the example itself a corruption and de-
generacy of taste. They tell us that the fashion of
jumbling fifty things together in a dish was at first in-
troduced, in compliance to a depraved and debauched
appetite, as well as to a crazy constitution: and to
see a man hunting through an olio, after the head
and brains of a goose, a widgeon, or a woodcock, is
a sign he wants a stomach and digestion for more
substantial victuals. Farther, they affirm that digres-
sions in a book are like foreign troops in a state,
which argue the nation to want a heart and hands
of its own, and often either subdue the natives, or
drive them into the most unfruitful corners.
But, after all that can be objected by these super-
cilious censors, it is manifest the society of writers
would quickly be reduced to a very inconsiderable
number if men were put upon making books with
the fatal confinement of delivering nothing beyond
what is to the purpose. It is acknowledged, that were
the case the same among us as with the Greeks and
Romans, when learning was in its cradle, to be reared
and fed, and clothed by invention, it would be an
easy task to fill up volumes upon particular occasions,
without farther expatiating from the subjects than
by moderate excursions, helping to advance or clear
the main design. But with knowledge it has fared
as with a numerous army, encamped in a fruitful
country, which, for a few days, maintains itself by
the product of the soil it is on; till provisions being
spent, they are sent to forage many a mile, among
friends or enemies, it matters not. Meanwhile, the
neighbouring fields, trampled and beaten down,
become barren and dry, affording no sustenance but
clouds of dust.
The whole course of things being thus entirely
changed between us and the ancients, and the
moderns wisely sensible of it, we of this age have
discovered a shorter and more prudent method to
become scholars and wits, without the fatigue of read-
ing or of thinking. The most accomplished way
of using books at present is two-fold; either, first, to
serve them as some men do lords, learn their titles
exactly, and then brag of their acquaintance. Or,
secondly, which is indeed the choicer, the profounder,
and politer method, to get a thorough insight into
the index, by which the whole book is governed and
turned, like fishes by the tail. For to enter the
palace of learning at the great gate requires an ex-
pense of time and forms; therefore men of much
haste and little ceremony are content to get in by
the back door. For the arts are all in flying march,
and therefore more easily subdued by attacking them
in the rear. Thus physicians discover the state of
the whole body by consulting only what comes from
behind. Thus men catch knowledge by throwing
their wit into the posteriors of a book, as boys do
sparrows with flinging salt upon their tails.
human life is best understood by the wise man's
rule of regarding the end. Thus are the sciences
found, like Hercules's oxen, by tracing them back-
wards. Thus are old sciences unravelled, like old
stockings, by beginning at the foot. Beside all this,
the army of the sciences has been of late, with a
world of martial discipline, drawn into its close
order, so that a view or a muster may be taken of it
with abundance of expedition. For this great bless-
ing we are wholly indebted to systems and abstracts,
Thus
|
in which the modern fathers of learning, like pru-
dent usurers, spent their sweat for the ease of us
their children. For labour is the seed of idleness,
and it is the peculiar happiness of our noble age to
gather the fruit.
Now, the method of growing wise, learned, and
sublime, having become so regular an affair, and so
established in all its forms, the number of writers
must needs have increased accordingly, and to a
pitch that has made it of absolute necessity for them
to intefere continually with each other. Besides,
it is reckoned that there is not at this present a suf-
ficient quantity of new matter left in nature to fur-
nish and adorn any one particular subject to the
extent of a volume. This I am told by a very skilful
computer, who has given a full demonstration of it
from rules of arithmetic.
This perhaps may be objected against by those
who maintain the infinity of matter, and therefore
will not allow that any species of it can be exhausted.
For answer to which, let us examine the noblest
branch of modern wit or invention, planted and
cultivated by the present age, and which, of all
others, has borne the most and the fairest fruit. For,
though some remains of it were left us by the an-
cients, yet have not any of those, as I remember,
been translated or compiled into systems for modern
use. Therefore we may affirm, to our own honour,
that it has, in some sort, been both invented and
brought to perfection by the same hands. What I
mean is, that highly celebrated talent among the
modern wits of deducing similitudes, allusions, and
applications, very surprising, agreeable, and apposite,
from the pudenda of either sex, together with their
proper uses. And truly, having observed how little
invention bears any vogue, beside what is derived
into these channels, I have sometimes had a thought
that the happy genius of our age and country was
prophetically held forth by that ancient typical de-
scription of the Indian pigmies, whose stature did
not exceed above two foot; sed quorum pudenda
crassa, et ad talos usque pertingentia. Now I have
been very curious to inspect the late productions
wherein the beauties of this kind have most promi-
nently appeared; and although this vein has bled
so freely, and all endeavours have been used in the
power of human breath to dilate, extend, and keep
it open, like the Scythians, who had a custom, and
an instrument, to blow up the privities of their
mares, that they might yield the more milk: yet I
am under an apprehension it is near growing dry
and past all recovery; and that either some new
fonde of wit should, if possible, be provided, or else
that we must even be content with repetition here,
as well as upon all other occasions.
This will stand as an incontestable argument that
our modern wits are not to rekon upon the infi-
nity of matter for a constant supply. What re-
mains, therefore, but that our last recourse must be
had to large indexes and little compendiums? quo-
tations must be plentifully gathered, and booked in
alphabet; to this end, though authors need be little
consulted, yet critics, and commentators, and lexi-
cons, carefully must. But above all, those judicious
collectors of bright parts, and flowers, and obser-
vandas, are to be nicely dwelt on by some called the
sieves and boulters of learning; though it is left
undetermined whether they dealt in pearls or meal;
and, consequently, whether we are more to value
that which passed through, or what staid behind.
By these methods, in a few weeks there starts up
mauy a writer capable of managing the profoundest
and most universal subjects. For what though his
head be empty, provided his commonplace-book be
A TALE OF A TUB.
111
share, as well as operation, in every compound, by
consequence, those beings must be of chief excel-
lence wherein that primordium appears most pro-
minently to abound; and therefore man is in the
full? and if you will bate him but the circumstances
of method, and style, and grammar, and invention;
allow him but the common privileges of transcribing
from others, and digressing from himself, as often as
he shall see occasion; he will desire no more ingredi-highest perfection of all created things, as having,
ents towards fitting up a treatise that shall make a
very comely figure on a bookseller's shelf; there to
be preserved neat and clean for a long eternity,
adorned with the heraldry of its title fairly inscribed
on a label; never to be thumbed or greased by stu-
dents, nor bound to everlasting chains of darkness
in a library: but when the fulness of time is come,
shall happily undergo the trial of purgatory, in
order to ascend the sky.
Without these allowances, how is it possible we
modern wits should ever have an opportunity to
introduce our collections, listed under so many thou-
sand heads of a different nature; for want of which
the learned world would be deprived of infinite |
delight, as well as instruction, and we ourselves
buried beyond redress in an inglorious and undis-
tinguished oblivion ?
From such elements as these I am alive to behold
the day wherein the corporation of authors can out-
vie all its brethren in the guild. A happiness derived
to us, with a great many others, from our Scythian
ancestors; among whom the number of pens was so
infinite, that the Grecian eloquence had no other way
of expressing it than by saying that in the regions
far to the north it was hardly possible for a man to
travel, the very air was so replete with feathers.
The necessity of this digression will easily excuse
the length; and I have chosen for it as proper a
place as I could readily find. If the judicious reader
can assign a fitter, I do here impower him to remove
it into any other corner he pleases. And so I
return with great alacrity, to pursue a more import-
ant concern.
SECTION THE EIGHTH.
THE learned Æolists a maintain the original cause of
all things to be wind, from which principle this
whole universe was at first produced, and into
which it must at last be resolved; that the same
|
by the great bounty of philosophers, been endued
with three distinct animas or winds, to which the
sage Æolists, with much liberality, have added a
| fourth, of equal necessity as well as ornament with
the other three; by this quartum principium taking in
the four corners of the world; which gave occasion
to that renowned cabalist, Bumbastus, a of placing
the body of a man in due position to the four car-
dinal points.
In consequence of this, their next principle was,
that man brings with him into the world a peculiar
portion or grain of wind, which may be called a
quinta essentia, extracted from the other four. This
quintessence is of a catholic use upon all emer-
gencies of life, is improveable into all arts and
sciences, and may be wonderfully refined, as well as
enlarged, by certain methods in education. This,
when blown up to its perfection, ought not to be
covetously hoarded up, stifled or hid under a bushel,
but freely communicated to mankind. Upon these
reasons, and others of equal weight, the wise Æolists
affirm the gift of belching to be the noblest act of a
rational creature. To cultivate which art, and ren-
der it more serviceable to mankind, they made use
of several methods. At certain seasons of the year
you might behold the priests among them, in vast
numbers, with their mouths gaping wide against a
storm. At other times were to be seen several
hundreds linked together in a circular chain, with
every man a pair of bellows applied to his neigh.
bour's breech, by which they blew up each other to
the shape and size of a tun; and for that reason, with
great propriety of speech, did usually call their
bodies their vessels. When, by these and the like
performances, they were grown sufficiently replete,
they would immediately depart, and disembogue,
for the public good, a plentiful share of their ac-
quirements into their disciples' chaps.
For we
must here observe that all learning was esteemed
among them to be compounded from the same
breath which had kindled and blew up the flame of principle. Because, first, it is generally affirmed,
nature should one day blow it out:-
Quod procul a nobis flectat fortuna gubernans.
This is what the adepti understand by their anima
mundi; that is to say, the spirit, or breath, or wind
of the world; for, examine the whole system by the
particulars of nature, and you will find it not to be
disputed. For whether you please to call the forma
informans of man by the name of spiritus, animus,
afflatus, or anima; what are all these but several
appellations for wind, which is the ruling element in
every compound, and into which they all resolve
upon their corruption? Farther, what is life it-
self but, as it is commonly called, the breath of our
nostrils? Whence it is very justly observed by
naturalists that wind still continues of great emolu-
ment in certain mysteries not to be named, giving
occasion for those happy epithets of turgidus and
inflatus, applied either to the emittent or recipient
organs.
|
or confessed, that learning puffeth men up: and,
secondly, they proved it by the following syllo-
gism: Words are but wind; and learning is no-
thing but words; ergo, learning is nothing but
wind. For this reason, the philosophers among
them did, in their schools, deliver to their pupils all
their doctrines and opinions by eructation, wherein
they had acquired a wonderful eloquence, and of in-
credible variety. But the great characteristic by
which their chief sages were best distinguished was
a certain position of countenance, which gave un-
doubted intelligence to what degree or proportion
the spirit agitated the inward mass. For, after cer-
tain gripings, the wind and vapours issuing forth,
having first, by their turbulence and convulsions
within, caused an earthquake in man's little world,
distorted the mouth, bloated the cheeks, and given
the eyes a terrible kind of relievo; at such junctures
all their belches were received for sacred, the sourer
the better, and swallowed with infinite consolation
By what I have gathered out of ancient records, I
find the compass of their doctrine took in two-and-by their meagre devotees. And, to render these yet
thirty points, wherein it would be tedious to be very
particular. However, a few of their most im-
portant precepts, deducible from it, are by no means
to be omitted; among which the following maxim
was of much weight; that since wind had the master
All pretenders to inspiration,
more complete, because the breath of man's life is
in his nostrils, therefore the choicest, most edifying,
and most enlivening belches, were very wisely con-
"One of the names of Paracelsus, called Christophorus Theo-
phrastus Paracelsus Bumbastus.
b Those seditious preachers who blow up seeds of rebellion.
112
A TALE OF A TUB.
veyed through that vehicle, to give them a tincture, influence on the people. It is true, indeed, that
as they passed.
these were frequently managed and directed by fe-
mate officers, whose organs were understood to be
better disposed for the admission of those oracular
gusts, as entering and passing up through a recep-
tacle of greater capacity, and causing also a pru-
a
hath been refined from carnal into a spiritual
ecstacy. And, to strengthen this profound conjec-
ture, it is farther insisted, that this custom of female
priests is kept up still in certain refined colleges of
our modern Æolists, who are agreed to receive their
inspiration, derived through the receptacle aforesaid,
like their ancestors the sibyls.
Their gods were the four winds, whom they wor-
shipped as the spirits that pervade and enliven the
universe, and as those from whom alone all inspi-
ration can properly be said to proceed. However,
the chief of these, to whom they performed the ado-riency by the way, such as, with due management,
ration of latria,a was the almighty North, an an-
cient deity, whom the inhabitants of Megalopolis,
in Greece, had likewise in the highest reverence: om-
nium deorum Boream maxime celebrant [Pausan. 1.8].
This god, though endued with ubiquity, was yet
supposed, by the profounder Molists, to possess one
peculiar habitation, or (to speak in form) a cœlum
empyræum, wherein he was more intimately present.
This was situated in a certain region, well known to
the ancient Greeks, by them called Exoría, or the
land of darkness. And although many controver
sies have arisen upon that matter, yet so much is
undisputed, that from a region of the like denomi-
nation the most refined Æolists have borrowed their
original; whence, in every age, the zealous among
their priesthood have brought over their choicest in-
spiration, fetching it with their own hands from the
fountain-head in certain bladders, and disploding it
among the sectaries in all nations, who did, and do,
and ever will, daily gasp and pant after it.
|
And whereas the mind of a man, when he gives
the spur and bridle to his thoughts, does never stop,
but naturally sallies out into both extremes, of high
and low, of good and evil; his first flight of fancy
commonly transports him to ideas of what is most
perfect, finished, and exalted; till, having soared out
of his own reach and sight, not well perceiving how
near the frontiers of height and depth border upon
each other; with the same course and wing he falls
down plumb into the lowest bottom of things; like
one who travels the east into the west; or like a
straight line drawn by its own length into a circle.
Whether a tincture of malice in our natures makes
us fond of furnishing every bright idea with its re-
verse; or whether reason, reflecting upon the sum
of things, can, like the sun, serve only to enlighten
one half of the globe, leaving the other half by ne-
cessity under shade and darkness; or whether fancy,
flying up to the imagination of what is highest and
best, becomes overshot, and spent, and weary, and
It suddenly falls, like a dead bird of paradise, to the
ground; or whether, after all these metaphysical
conjectures, I have not entirely missed the true
reason; the proposition, however, which has stood
me in so much circumstance, is altogether true;
that as the most uncivilized parts of mankind have
some way or other climbed up into the conception
of a god or supreme power, so they have seldom
forgot to provide their fears with certain ghastly
notions, which, instead of better, have served them
pretty tolerably for a devil. And this proceeding
|
seems to be natural enough; for it is with men,
whose imaginations are lifted up very high, after
the same rate as with those whose bodies are so ;
that, as they are delighted with the advantage of a
nearer contemplation upwards, so they are equally
terrified with the dismal prospect of a precipice be-
low. Thus, in the choice of a devil it has been the
usual method of mankind to single out some being,
either in act or in vision, which was in most antipathy
Thus also the sect of
to the god they had framed.
Æolists possessed themselves with a dread and hor-
ror and hatred of two malignant natures, betwixt
whom and the deities they adored perpetual enmity
was established. The first of these was the chame-
leon, sworn foe to inspiration, who in scorn de-
voured large influences of their god, without re-
funding the smallest blast by eructation. The other
was a huge terrible monster, called Moulinavent
[windmill], who, with four strong arms, waged
eternal battle with all their divinities, dexterously
turning to avoid their blows, and repay them [infi-
dels] with interest.
Now, their mysteries and rites were performed in
this manner. It is well known among the learned
that the virtuosoes of former ages had a contrivance
for carrying and preserving winds in casks or barrels,
which was of great assistance upon long sea-voyages:
and the loss of so useful an art at present is very
much to be lamented; although, I know not how,
with great negligence omitted by Pancirolus.
was an invention ascribed to Eolus himself, from
whom this sect is denominated; and who, in honour
of their founder's memory, have to this day preserved
great numbers of those barrels, whereof they fix one
in each of their temples, first beating out the top;
into this barrel, upon solemn days, the priest enters;
where, having before duly prepared himself by the
methods already described, a secret funnel is also
conveyed from his posteriors to the bottom of the
barrel, which admits new supplies of inspiration
from a northern chink or cranny. Whereupon, you
behold him swell immediately to the shape and size
of his vessel. In this posture he disembogues whole
tempests upon his auditory, as the spirit from be-
neath gives him utterance; which, issuing ex adytis
et penetralibus, is not performed without much pain
and gripings. And the wind, in breaking forth,
deals with his face as it does with that of the sea,
first blackening, then wrinkling, and at last bursting
it into a foam. It is in this guise the sacred Æolist
delivers his oracular belches to his panting disciples;
of whom, some are greedily gaping after the sancti-
fied breath; others are all the while hymning out
the praises of the winds; and, gently wafted to and
fro by their own humming, do thus represent the
soft breezes of their deities appeased.
It is from this custom of the priests that some
authors maintain these olists to have been very
ancient in the world. Because the delivery of their
mysteries, which I have just now mentioned, ap-
pears exactly the same with that of other ancient
oracles, whose inspirations were owing to certain
subterraneous effluviums of wind, delivered with the
same pain to the priest, and much about the same
Worship paid only to the supreme Deity.
The original of tub-preaching described.
© An author who writ De Artibus perditis, &c.; Of arts lost,
and of arts invented.
4 An exact description of the changes made in the face by
athusiastic preachers.
b
Thus furnished and set out with gods, as well as
devils, was the renowned sect of Æolists, which
makes at this day so illustrious a figure in the
world, and whereof that polite nation of Lap-
a Quakers suffer their females to preach.
The author here, no doubt, means latitudiuarians.
A TALE OF A TUB.
113
landers are, beyond all doubt, a most authentic
branch; of whom I therefore cannot, without in-
justice, here omit to make honourable mention;
since they appear to be so closely allied in point of
interest, as well as inclinations, with their brother
Æolists among us, as not only to buy their winds
by wholesale from the same merchants, but also to
retail them after the same rate and method, and to
customers much alike.
Now, whether this system here delivered was
wholly compiled by Jack, or, as some writers be-
lieve, rather copied from the original at Delphos,
with certain additions and emendations, suited to
the times and circumstances, I shall not absolutely
determine. This I may affirm, that Jack gave it at
least a new turn, and formed it into the same dress
and model as it lies deduced by me.
I have long sought after this opportunity of doing
justice to a society of men for whom I have a pecu-
liar honour, and whose opinions, as well as prac-
tices, have been extremely misrepresented and tra-
duced by the malice or ignorance of their adver-
saries. For I think it one of the greatest and best
of human actions to remove prejudices, and place
things in their truest and fairest light, which I
therefore boldly undertake, without any regards of
my own, beside the conscience, the honour, and
the thanks.
SECTION THE NINTH.
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING THE ORIGINAL, THE USE,
AND IMPROVEMENT OF MADNESS IN A COMMON-
WEALTH.
NOR shall it in any ways detract from the just re-
putation of this famous sect, that its rise and insti-
tution are owing to such an author as I have de-
scribed Jack to be; a person whose intellectuals
were overturned, and his brain shaken out of its
natural position; which we commonly suppose to
be a distemper, and call by the name of madness or
phrensy. For if we take a survey of the greatest
actions that have been performed in the world
under the influence of single men, which are, the
establishment of new empires by conquest, the ad-
vance and progress of new schemes in philosophy,
and the contriving, as well as the propagating, of
new religions; we shall find the authors of them all
to have been persons whose natural reason had ad-
mitted great revolutions, from their diet, their edu-
cation, the prevalency of some certain temper, to-
gether with the particular influence of air and cli-
mate. Besides, there is something individual in
human minds, that easily kindles at the accidental
approach and collision of certain circumstances,
which, though of paltry and mean appearance, do
often flame out into the greatest emergencies of life.
For great turns are not always given by strong
hands, but by lucky adaption, and at proper sea-
sons; and it is of no import where the fire was
kindled, if the vapour has once got up into the
brain. For the upper region of man is furnished
like the middle region of the air; the materials are
formed from causes of the widest difference, yet
produce at last the same substance and effect.
Mists arise from the earth, steams from dunghills,
exhalations from the sea, and smoke from fire; yet
all clouds are the same in composition as well as
consequences, and the fumes issuing from a jakes
will furnish as comely and useful a vapour as in-
cense from an altar. Thus far, I suppose, will easily
be granted me; and then it will follow that, as the
face of nature never produces rain but when it is
overcast and disturbed, so human understanding,
VOL. I.
seated in the brain, must be troubled and overspread
by vapours ascending foom the lower faculties to
water the invention and render it fruitful. Now,
although these vapours (as it has been already said)
are of as various original as those of the skies, yet
the crops they produce differ both in kind and de-
gree, merely according to the soil. I will produce
two instances to prove and explain what I am now
advancing.
A certain great prince a raised a mighty army,
filled his coffers with infinite treasures, provided an
invincible fleet, and all this without giving the least
part of his design to his greatest ministers or his
nearest favourites. Immediately the whole world
was alarmed; the neighbouring crowns in trem-
bling expectations towards what point the storm
would burst; the small politicians everywhere form-
ing profound conjectures. Some believed he had
laid a scheme for universal monarchy; others, after
much insight, determined the matter to be a project
for pulling down the pope, and setting up the re-
formed religion, which had once been his own.
Some, again, of a deeper sagacity, sent him into
Asia to subdue the Turk and recover Palestine. In
the midst of all these projects and preparations, a
certain state-surgeon,b gathering the nature of the
disease by these symptoms, attempted the cure, at
one blow performed the operation, broke the bag,
and out flew the vapour; nor did anything want to
render it a complete remedy, only that the prince
unfortunately happened to die in the performance.
Now, is the reader exceedingly curious to learn
whence this vapour took its rise, which had so long
set the nations at a gaze? what secret wheel, what
hidden spring, could put into motion so wonderful
an engine? It was afterwards discovered that the
movement of this whole machine had been directed
by an absent female, whose eyes had raised a pro-
tuberancy, and, before emission, she was removed
into an enemy's country. What should an unhappy
prince do in such ticklish circumstances as these?
He tried in vain the poet's never-failing receipt of
corpora quæque; for,
Idque petit corpus mens unde est saucia amore:
Unde feritur, eo tendit, gestitque coire.-LUCR.
Having to no purpose used all peaceable endea-
yours, the collected part of the sêmen, raised and
inflamed, became adust, converted to choler, turned
head upon the spinal duct, and ascended to the
brain the very same principle that influences a
bully to break the windows of a whore who has
jilted him naturally stirs up a great prince to raise
mighty armies, and dream of nothing but sieges,
battles, and victories.
Causa-
Teterrima belli
The other instance is what I have read some-
where in a very ancient author, of a mighty king
[Louis XIV. of France], who, for the space of
above thirty years, amused himself to take and lose
towns; beat armies, and be beaten; drive princes
out of their dominions; fright children from their
bread and butter; burn, lay waste, plunder, dra-
goon, massacre subject and stranger, friend and foe,
male and female. It is recorded that the philoso-
phers of each country were in grave dispute upon
causes, natural, moral, and political, to find out
where they should assign an original solution of this
phenomenon. At last, the vapour or spirit which
animated the hero's brain, being in perpetual cir-
culation, seized upon that region of the human body
so renowned for furnishing the zibeta occidentalis,
a Henry the Great of France.
b Ravillac, who stabbed Henry the Great.
I
114
A TALE OF A TUB.
and, gathering there into a tumour, left the rest of
the world for that time in peace. Of such mighty
consequence it is where those exhalations fix, and of
so little from whence they proceed.
The same
spirits which, in their superior progress, would con-
quer a kingdom, descending upon the anus, conclude
in a fistula.
Let us next examine the great introducers of new
schemes in philosophy, and search till we can find
from what faculty of the soul the disposition arises
in mortal man of taking it into his head to advance
new systems, with such an eager zeal, in things
agreed on all hands impossible to be known: from
what seeds this disposition springs, and to what
quality of human nature these grand innovators
have been indebted for their number of disciples.
Because it is plain that several of the chief among
them, both ancient and modern, were usually mis-
taken by their adversaries, and indeed by all except
their own followers, to have been persons crazed, or
out of their wits; having generally proceeded, in
the common course of their words and actions, by
a method very different from the vulgar dictates of
unrefined reason; agreeing for the most part in
their several models with their present undoubted
successors in the academy of modern Bedlam, whose
merits and principles I shall farther examine in due
place. Of this kind were Epicurus, Diogenes,
Apollonius, Lucretius, Paracelsus, Des Cartes, and
others; who, if they were now in the world, tied
fast, and separate from their followers, would, in
this our undistinguishing age, incur manifest danger
of phlebotomy, and whips, and chains, and dark
chambers, and straw. For what man, in the natural
state or course of thinking, did ever conceive it in
his power to reduce the notions of all mankind ex-
actly to the same length, and breadth, and height of
his own? yet this is the first humble and civil de-
sign of all innovators in the empire of reason. Epi-
curus modestly hoped that, one time or other, a cer-
tain fortuitous concourse of all men's opinions, after
perpetual justlings, the sharp with the smooth, the
light and the heavy, the round and the square,
would, by certain clinamina, unite in the notions of
atoms and void, as these did in the originals of all
things. Cartesius reckoned to see, before he died,
the sentiments of all philosophers, like so many
lesser stars in his romantic system, wrapped and
drawn within his own vortex. Now, I would gladly
be informed how it is possible to account for such
imaginations as these in particular men, without re-
course to my phenomenon of vapours ascending from
the lower faculties to overshadow the brain, and
there distilling into conceptions, for which the nar-
rowness of our mother-tongue has not yet assigned
any other name beside that of madness or phrensy.
Let us therefore now conjecture how it comes to
pass that none of these great prescribers do ever fail
providing themselves and their notions with a num-
ber of implicit disciples. And I think the reason is
easy to be assigned; for there is a peculiar string in
the harmony of human understanding, which, in
several individuals, is exactly of the same tuning.
This, if you can dexterously screw up to its right
key, and then strike gently upon it, whenever you
have the good fortune to light among those of the
same pitch, they will, by a secret necessary sym-
pathy, strike exactly at the same time. And in this
one circumstance lies all the skill or luck of the
matter; for, if you chance to jar the string among
those who are either above or below your own
height, instead of subscribing to your doctrine, they
will tie you fast, call you mad, and feed you with
bread and water. It is therefore a point of the
nicest conduct to distinguish and adapt this noble
talent with respect to the differences of persons and
of times. Cicero understood this very well, who,
when writing to a friend in England, with a caution,
among other matters, to beware of being cheated by
our hackney-coachmen (who, it seems, in those
days were as errant rascals as they are now), has
these remarkable words: Est quod gaudeas te in ista
loca venisse, ubi aliquid sapere viderere. For, to
speak a bold truth, it is a fatal miscarriage so ill to
order affairs as to pass for a fool in one company,
when in another you might be treated as a philo-
sopher. Which I desire some certain gentlemen of
my acquaintance to lay up in their hearts, as a very
seasonable innuendo.
This, indeed, was the fatal mistake of that worthy
gentlemen, my most ingenious friend, Mr. Wotton;
a person, in appearance, ordained for great designs,
as well as performances: whether you will consider
his notions or his looks, surely no man ever ad-
vanced into the public with fitter qualifications of
body and mind for the propagation of a new reli-
gion. O, had those happy talents, misapplied to
vain philosophy, been turned into their proper
channels of dreams and visions, where distortion of
mind and countenance are of such sovereign use,
the base detracting world would not then have
dared to report that something is amiss, that his
brain has undergone an unlucky shake, which even
his brother modernists themselves, like ungrates, do
whisper so loud, that it reaches up to the very garret
I am now writing in!
Lastly, whosoever pleases to look into the fountains
of enthusiasm, from whence, in all ages, have eternally
proceeded such fattening streams, will find the
spring-head to have been as troubled and muddy as
the current: of such great emolument is a tincture
of this vapour, which the world calls madness, that
without its help the world would not only be deprived
of those two great blessings, conquests and systems,
but even all mankind would unhappily be reduced
to the same belief in things invisible. Now, the
former postulatum being held, that it is of no import
from what originals this vapour proceeds, but either
in what angles it strikes and spreads over the under-
standing, or upon what species of brain it ascends;
it will be a very delicate point to cut the feather,
and divide the several reasons to a nice and curious
reader, how this numerical difference in the brain
can produce effects of so vast a difference from the
same vapour as to be the sole point of individuation
between Alexander the Great, Jack of Leyden, and
Monsieur des Cartes. The present argument is the
most abstracted that ever I engaged in; it strains
my faculties to their highest stretch and I desire
the reader to attend with the utmost propensity; for
I now proceed to unravel this knotty point.
There is in mankind a certainª
*
*
*
Hic multa
desiderantur.
*
**
And this I take to be a clear solution of the matter.
Having therefore so narrowly passed through this
intricate difficulty, the reader will, I am sure, agree
with me in the conclusion, that if the moderns mean
by madness only a disturbance or transposition of
the brain, by force of certain vapours issuing up
from the lower faculties, then has this madness been
the parent of all those mighty revolutions that have
happened in empire, philosophy, and in religion.
For the brain in its natural position and state of
serenity disposes its owner to pass his life in the
common forms, without any thoughts of subduing
• Another intended break in the manuscript.
A TALE OF A TUB.
115
multitudes to his own power, his reasons or his
vision; and the more he shapes his understanding
by the pattern of human learning, the less he is in-
clined to form parties after his particular notions,
because that instructs him in his private infirmities,
as well as in the stubborn ignorance of the people.
But when a man's fancy gets astride on his reason;
when imagination is at cuffs with the senses; and
common understanding, as well as common sense,
is kicked out of doors; the first proselyte he makes
is himself; and when that is once compassed the
difficulty is not so great in bringing over others; a
strong delusion always operating from without as
vigorously as from within. For cant and vision are
to the ear and the eye the same that tickling is to
the touch. Those entertainments and pleasures we
most value in life are such as dupe and play the wag
with the senses. For if we take an examination of
what is generally understood by happiness, as it has
respect either to the understanding or the senses, we
shall find all its properties and adjuncts will herd
under this short definition, that it is a perpetual pos-
session of being well deceived. And first with re-
lation to the mind or understanding, it is manifest
what mighty advantages fiction has over truth; and
the reason is just at our elbow, because imagination
can build nobler scenes, and produce more wonder-
ful revolutions, than fortune or nature will be at ex-
pense to furnish. Nor is mankind so much to blame
in his choice thus determining him, if we consider
that the debate merely lies between things past and
things conceived: and so the question is only this;
whether things that have place in the imagination
may not as properly be said to exist as those that are
seated in the memory; which may be justly held in
the affirmative, and very much to the advantage of
the former, since this is acknowledged to be the womb
of things, and the other allowed to be no more than
the grave. Again, if we take this definition of
happiness, and examine it with reference to the
senses, it will be acknowledged wonderfully adapt.
How fading and insipid do all objects accost us that
are not conveyed in the vehicle of delusion! how
shrunk is everything as it appears in the glass of
nature! so that, if it were not for the assistance of
artificial mediums, false lights, refracted angles, var-
nish and tinsel, there would be a mighty level in the
felicity and enjoyments of mortal men. If this were
seriously considered by the world, as I have a certain
reason to suspect it hardly will, men would no longer
reckon among their high points of wisdom the art
of exposing weak sides and publishing infirmities;
an employment, in my opinion, neither better nor
worse than that of unmasking, which, I think, has
never been allowed fair usage either in the world or
the playhouse.
In the proportion that credulity is a more peace-
ful possession of the mind than curiosity, so far pre-
ferable is that wisdom which converses about the
surface to that pretended philosophy which enters
into the depth of things, and than comes gravely
back with informations and discoveries that in the
inside they are good for nothing. The two senses
to which all objects first address themselves are the
sight and the touch; these never examine farther
than the colour, the shape, the size, and whatever
other qualities dwell or are drawn by art upon the
outward of bodies; and then comes reason officiously
with tools for cutting, and opening, and mangling,
and piercing, offering to demonstrate that they are
not of the same consistence quite through. Now
I take all this to be the last degree of perverting
nature; one of whose eternal laws it is, to put her
best furniture forward. And therefore, in order to
save the charges of all such expensive anatomy for
the time to come, I do here think fit to inform the
reader that in such conclusions as these reason is
certainly in the right; and that, in most corporeal
beings which have fallen under my cognizance, the
outside has been infinitely preferable to the in:
whereof I have been farther convinced from some
late experiments. Last week I saw a woman flayed,
and you will hardly believe how much it altered her
person for the worse. Yesterday I ordered the car-
case of a beau to be stripped in my presence; when
we were all amazed to find so many unsuspected
faults under one suit of clothes. Then I laid open
his brain, his heart, and his spleen: but I plainly
perceived at every operation, that the farther we
proceeded we found the defects increase upon us in
number and bulk: from all which, I justly formed
this conclusion to myself, that whatever philosopher
or projector can find out an art to solder and patch
up the flaws and imperfections of nature will deserve
much better of mankind, and teach us a more use-
ful science, than that so much in present esteem, of
widening and exposing them, like him who held ana-
tomy to be the ultimate end of physic. And he whose
fortunes and dispositions have placed him in a con-
venient station to enjoy the fruits of this noble art;
he that can, with Epicurus, content his ideas with
the films and images that fly off upon his senses
from the superficies of things; such a man, truly
wise, creams off nature, leaving the sour and the
dregs for philosophy and reason to lap up. This is
the sublime and refined point of felicity, called the
possession of being well deceived; the serene peace-
ful state of being a fool among knaves.
But to return to madness. It is certain that, ac-
cording to the system I have above deduced, every
species thereof proceeds from a redundancy of
vapours; therefore, as some kinds of phrensy give
double strength to the sinews, so there are of other
species, which add vigour, and life, and spirit to the
brain: now, it usually happens that these active
spirits, getting possession of the brain, resemble
those that haunt other waste and empty dwellings,
which, for want of business, either vanish and carry
away a piece of the house, or else stay at home and
fling it all out of the windows. By which are mys-
tically displayed the two principal branches of mad-
ness, and which some philosophers, not considering
so well as I, have mistaken to be different in their
causes, over hastily assigning the first to deficiency,
and the other to redundance.
Thus
I think it therefore manifest, from what I have
here advanced, that the main point of skill and ad-
dress is, to furnish employment for this redundancy
of vapour, and prudently to adjust the season of it;
by which means it may certainly become of cardinal
and catholic emolument in a commonwealth.
one man, choosing a proper juncture, leaps into a
gulf, thence proceeds a hero, and is called the savi-
our of his country: another achieves the same en-
terprise, but, unluckily timing it, has left the brand
of madness fixed as a reproach upon his memory:
upon so nice a distinction, are we taught to repeat
the name of Curtius with reverence and love; that
of Empedocles with hatred and contempt. Thus
also it is usually conceived that the elder Brutus
only personated the fool and madman for the good
of the public; but this was nothing else than a re-
dundancy of the same vapour long misapplied, called
by the Latins ingenium par negotiis; or, to translate
it as nearly as I can, a sort of phrensy, never in its
right element till you take it up in the business of
the state.
Upon all which, and many other reasons of equal
I 2
116
A TALE OF A TUB.
weight, though not equally curious, I do here gladly |
embrace an opportunity I have long sought for of
recommending it as a very noble undertaking to sir
Edward Seymour, sir Christopher Musgrave, sir
John Bowles, John Howe, esq., and other patriots
concerned, that they would move for leave to bring
in a bill for appointing commissioners to inspect
into Bedlam and the parts adjacent; who shall be
empowered to send for persons, papers, and records;
to examine into the merits and qualifications of
every student and professor; to observe with utmost
exactness their several dispositions and behaviour;
by which means, duly distinguishing and adapting
their talents, they might produce admirable instru-
ments for the several offices in a state [ecclesiastical],
civil and military; proceeding in such methods as I
shall here humbly propose. And I hope the gentle
reader will give some allowance to my great soli-ously holds you out his hand to kiss.
citudes in this important affair, upon account of the
high esteem I have borne that honourable society,
whereof I had some time the happiness to be an
unworthy member.
tually about, and at last reinfunds. His complexion
is of a dirty yellow, with a thin scattered beard,
exactly agreeable to that of his diet upon its first
declination; like other insects, who, having their
birth and education in an excrement, from thence
borrow their colour and their smell. The student
of this apartment is very sparing of his words, but
somewhat over-liberal of his breath: he holds his
hand out ready to receive your penny, and immedi-
ately upon receipt withdraws to his former occupa-
tions. Now, is it not amazing to think the society
of Warwick-lane. should have no more concern for
the recovery of so useful a member, who, if one may
judge from these appearances, would become the
greatest ornament to that illustrious body? Another
student struts up fiercely to your teeth, puffing with
his lips, half squeezing out his eyes, and very graci-
The keeper
Is any student tearing his straw in piecemeal,
swearing and blaspheming, biting his grate, foaming
at the mouth, and emptying his piss-pot in the spec-
tators' faces? let the right worshipful the commis-
sioners of inspection give him a regiment of dra-
goons and send him into Flanders among the rest.
Is another eternally talking, sputtering, gaping, baw-
ling in a sound without period or article? what
wonderful talents are here mislaid! let him be fur-
nished immediately with a green bag and papers,
and threepence in his pocket, and away with him to
Westminster all. You will find a third gravely
taking the dimensions of his kennel; a person of
foresight and insight, though kept quite in the dark;
for why, like Moses, ecce cornuta erat ejus facies.
He walks duly in one pace, entreats your penny with
due gravity and ceremony; talks much of hard times,
and taxes, and the whore of Babylon; bars up the
wooden window of his cell constantly at eight
o'clock; dreams of fire, and shoplifters, and court-
customers, and privileged places. Now, what a
figure would all these acquirements amount to if the
owner were sent into the city among his brethren!
Behold a fourth, in much and deep conversation with
himself, biting his thumbs at proper junctures; his
countenance checkered with business and design;
sometimes walking very fast, with his eyes nailed to a
paper that he holds in his hands: a great saver of
time, somewhat thick of hearing, very short of sight,
but more of memory: a man ever in haste, a great
hatcher and breeder of business, and excellent at the
famous art of whispering nothing; a huge idolator
of monosyllables and procrastination; so ready to
give his word to everybody, that he never keeps it:
one that has forgot the common meaning of words,
but an admirable retainer of the sound: extremely
subject to the looseness, for his occasions are perpe-
tually calling him away. If you approach his grate
in his familiar intervals; Sir, says he, give me a
penny, and I'll sing you a song: but give me the
penny first. (Hence comes the common saying,
and commoner practice, of parting with money for
a song). What a complete system of court skill is
here described in every branch of it, and all utterly
lost with wrong application! Accost the hole of
another kennel (first stopping your nose), you will
behold a surly, gloomy, nasty, slovenly mortal, raking
in his own dung, and dabbling in his urine. The
best part of his diet is the reversion of his own or-
dure, which, expiring into steams, whirls perpe-
Cornutus is either horned or shining, and by this term.
Moses is described.
desires you not to be afraid of this professor, for he
will do you no hurt: to him alone is allowed the
liberty of the antechamber, and the orator of the place
gives you to understand that this solemn person is
a tailor run mad with pride. This considerable
student is adorned with many other qualities, upon
which at present I shall not farther enlarge.-
Hark in your car-I am strangely mistaken if all his
address, his motions, and his airs, would not then
be very natural, and in their proper element.
I shall not descend so minutely as to insist upon
the vast number of beaux, fiddlers, poets, and poli-
ticians, that the world might recover by such a re-
formation; but what is more material, beside the
clear gain redounding to the commonwealth, by so
large an acquisition of persons to employ, whose
talents and acquirements, if I may be so bold as to
affirm it, are now buried, or at least misapplied; it
would be a mighty advantage accruing to the public
from this inquiry, that all these would very much
excel, and arrive at great perfection in their several
kinds; which, I think, is manifest from what I have
already shown, and shall enforce by this one plain
instance; that even I myself, the author of these
momentous truths, am a person whose imaginations
are hard-mouthed and exceedingly disposed to run
away with his reason, which I have observed, from
long experience, to be a very light rider, and easily
shaken off; upon which account my friends will
never trust me alone, without a solemn promise to
vent my speculations in this or the like manner, for
the universal benefit of human kind; which perhaps
the gentle, courteous, and candid reader, brimful of
that modern charity and tenderness usually annexed
to his office, will be very hardly persuaded to be-
lieve.
SECTION THE TENTH.
A FARTHER DIGRESSION.
Ir is an unanswerable argument of a very refined
age, the wonderful civilities that have passed of late
years between the nation of authors and that of
readers. There can hardly pop out a play, a pam-
phlet, or a poem, without a preface full of acknow-
ledgment to the world for the general reception and
applause they have given it, which the Lord knows
where, or when, or how, or from whom it received.
In due deference to so laudable a custom, I do here
return my humble thanks to his majesty and both
houses of parliament, to the lords of the king's most
honourable privy-council, to the reverend the judges,
to the clergy, and gentry, and yeomanry of this land;
but in a more especial manner to my worthy brethren
and friends at Will's coffee-house, and Gresham-
college, and Warwick-lane, and Moorfields, and
Scotland-yard, and Westminster-hall, and Guildhall:
A TALE OF A TUB.
117
in short, to all inhabitants and retainers whatsoever,
either in court, or church, or camp, or city, or coun-
try, for their generous and universal acceptance of
this divine treatise. I accept their approbation and
good opinion with extreme gratitude, and, to the
utmost of my poor capacity, shall take hold of all
opportunities to return the obligation.
I am also happy that fate has flung me into so
blessed an age for the mutual felicity of booksellers
and authors, whom I may safely affirm to be at this
day the two only satisfied parties in England. Ask
an author how his last piece has succeeded; why,
truly, he thanks his stars the world has been very
favourable, and he has not the least reason to com-
plain and yet, by G-, he wrote it in a week, at
bits and starts, when he could steal an hour from
his urgent affairs; as it is a hundred to one, you
may see farther in the preface, to which he refers
you; and for the rest to the bookseller. There you
go as a customer, and make the same question: he
blesses his God the thing takes wonderfully, he is
just printing the second edition, and has but three
left in his shop. You beat down the price: "Sir, we
shall not differ;" and, in hopes of your custom ano-
ther time, lets you have it as reasonable as you
please; and "pray send as many of your acquaintance
as you will, I shall, upon your account, furnish them
all at the same rate.'
""
Now, it is not well enough considered to what
accidents and occasions the world is indebted for the
greatest part of those noble writings which hourly
start up to entertain it. If it were not for a rainy
day, a drunken vigil, a fit of the spleen, a course of
physic, a sleepy Sunday, an ill run at dice, a long
tailor's bill, a beggar's purse, a factious head, a hot
sun, costive diet, want of books, and a just contempt
of learning but for these events, I say, and some
others too long to recite (especially a prudent neglect
of taking brimstone inwardly), I doubt the number
of authors and of writings would dwindle away to a
degree most woful to behold. To confirm this opi-
nion, hear the words of the famous Troglodyte phi-
losopher: It is certain (said he) some grains of folly
are of course annexed, as part of the composition of
human nature, only the choice is left us, whether
we please to wear them inlaid or embossed: and we
need not to go very far to seek how that is usually
determined, when we remember it is with human
faculties as with liquors, the lightest will be ever at
the top.
There is in this famous island of Britain a certain
paltry scribbler, very voluminous, whose character
the reader cannot wholly be a stranger to.
He
deals in a pernicious kind of writings, called second
parts; and usually passes under the name of the au-
thor of the first. I easily foresee, that as soon as I
lay down my pen this nimble operator will have
stolen it, and treat me as inhumanly as he has already
done Dr. Blackmore, Lestrange, and many others,
who shall here be nameless; I therefore fly for jus-
tice and relief into the hands of that great rectifier
of saddles, and lover of mankind, Dr. Bentley,
begging he will take this enormous grievance into
his most modern consideration: and if it should so
happen that the furniture of an ass, in the shape of
second part, must, for my sins, be clapped by a mis-
take upon my back, that he will immediately please,
in the presence of the world, to lighten me of the
burden, and take it home to his own house, till the
true beast thinks fit to call for it.
In the mean time I do here give this public notice,
that my resolutions are to circumscribe within this
Alluding to the trite phrase, "place the saddle on the
right horse.'
a
discourse the whole stock of matter I have been so
many years providing. Since my vein is once open-
ed, I am content to exhaust it all at a running, for
the peculiar advantage of my dear country, and for
the universal benefit of mankind. Therefore, hos-
pitably considering the number of my guests, they
shall have my whole entertainment at a meal; and
I scorn to set up the leavings in the cupboard. What
the guests cannot eat may be given to the poor; and
the dogså under the table may gnaw the bones. This
I understand for a more generous proceeding than to
turn the company's stomach, by inviting them again
to-morrow to a scurvy meal of scraps.
If the reader fairly considers the strength of what
I have advanced in the foregoing section, I am con-
vinced it will produce a wonderful revolution in his
notions and opinions; and he will be abundantly
better prepared to receive and to relish the conclud-
ing part of this miraculous treatise. Readers may
be divided into three classes-the superficial, the ig-
norant, and the learned: and I have with much
felicity fitted my pen to the genius and advantage of
each. The superficial reader will be strangely pro-
voked to laughter; which clears the breast and the
lungs, is sovereign against the spleen, and the most
innocent of all diuretics. The ignorant reader, be-
tween whom and the former the distinction is ex-
tremely nice, will find himself disposed to stare;
which is an admirable remedy for ill eyes, serves to
raise and enliven the spirits, and wonderfully helps
perspiration. But the reader truly learned, chiefly
for whose benefit I wake when others sleep, and
sleep when others wake, will here find sufficient
matter to employ his speculations for the rest of his
life. It were much to be wished, and I do here
humbly propose for an experiment, that every prince
in Christendom will take seven of the deepest
scholars in his dominions, and shut them up close
for seven years in seven chambers, with a command
to write seven ample commentaries on this compre-
hensive discourse. I shall venture to affirm that,
whatever difference may be found in their several
conjectures, they will be all, without the least dis-
tortion, manifestly deducible from the text. Mean-
time, it is my earnest request that so useful an un-
dertaking may be entered upon, if their majesties
please, with all convenient speed; because I have
a strong inclination, before I leave the world, to
taste a blessing which we mysterious writers can
seldom reach till we have gotten into our graves:
whether it is, that fame, being a fruit grafted on the
body, can hardly grow, and much less ripen, till the
stock is in the earth; or whether she be a bird of
prey, and is lured, among the rest, to pursue after
the scent of a carcase; or whether she conceives her
trumpet sounds best and farthest when she stands
on a tomb, by the advantage of a rising ground and
the echo of a hollow vault.
It is true, indeed, the republic of dark authors,
after they once found out this excellent expedient of
dying, have been peculiarly happy in the variety as
well as extent of their reputation. For night being
the universal mother of things, wise philosophers
hold all writings to be fruitful in the proportion that
they are dark; and therefore, the true illuminated
(that is to say, the darkest of all) have met with such
numberless commentators, whose scolastic midwife-
ry has delivered them of meanings that the authors
themselves perhaps never conceived, and yet may
very justly be allowed the lawful parents of them;
the words of such writers being like seed, which,
however scattered at random, when they light upon
By dogs, the author meaus injudicious critics.
b A name of the Rosicrucians.
118
A TALE OF A TUB.
a fruitful ground, will multiply far beyond either the
hopes or imagination of the sower.
a
And therefore, in order to promote so useful a
work, I will here take leave to glance a few innuen-
does, that may be of great assistance to those sub-
lime spirits who shall be appointed to labour in a
universal comment upon this wonderful discourse.
And, first, I have couched a very profound mystery
in the number of O's multiplied by seven and divided
by nine. Also, if a devout brother of the rosy cross
will pray fervently for sixty-three mornings, with a
lively faith, and then transpose certain letters and
syllables, according to prescription, in the second
and fifth section, they will certainly reveal into a full
receipt of the opus magnum. Lastly, whoever will
be at the pains to calculate the whole number of each
letter in this treatise, and sum up the difference ex-
actly between the several numbers, assigning the
true natural cause for every such difference, the dis-
coveries in the product will plentifully reward his
labour. But then he must beware of Bythus and
Sigé, and be sure not to forget the qualities of Acha-
moth; à cujus lacrymis humecta prodit substantia, à
risu lucida, à tristitia, et à timore mobilis; wherein
Eugenius Philalethes hath committed an unpardon-
able mistake.
SECTION THE ELEVENTH.
AFTER SO wide a compass as I have wandered, I do
now gladly overtake and close in with my subject,
and shall henceforth hold on with it an even pace
to the end of my journey, except some beautiful
prospect appears within sight of my way; whereof
though at present I have neither warning nor ex-
pectation, yet upon such an accident, come when it
will, I shall beg my reader's favour and company,
allowing me to conduct him through it along with
myself. For in writing it is as in travelling; if a
man is in haste to be at home (which I acknow-
ledge to be none of my case, having never so little
business as when I am there), and his horse be tired
with long riding and ill ways, or naturally a jade, I
advise him clearly to make the straightest and the
commonest road, be it ever so dirty; but then surely
we must own such a man to be a scurvy companion
at best; he spatters himself and his fellow-travellers
at every step; all their thoughts, and wishes, and
conversation turn entirely upon the subject of their
journey's end; and at every splash, and plunge,
and stumble, they heartily wish one another at the
devil.
On the other side, when a traveller and his horse
are in heart and plight, when his purse is full and
the day before him, he takes the road only where it
is clean and convenient; entertains his company
there as agrecably as he can; but, upon the first oc-
casion, carries them along with him to every de-
lightful scene in view, whether of art, of nature, or
of both; and if they chance to refuse, out of stupidity
or weariness, let them jog on by themselves and be
d-n'd; he'll overtake them at the next town; at
which arriving, he rides furiously through; the
men, women, and children, run out to gaze; a hun-
dred noisy cursb run barking after him, of which, if
he honours the boldest with a lash of his whip, it is
rather out of sport than revenge; but should some
sourer mongrel dare too near an approach, he re-
ceives a salute on the chaps by an accidental stroke
from the courscr's heels, nor is any ground lost by
This is what the cabalists among the Jews have done with
the Bible.
b What the author calls tho truo critics.
the blow, which sends him yelping and limping
home.
I now proceed to sum up the singular adventures
of my renowned Jack; the state of whose dispo-
sitions and fortunes the careful reader docs, no
doubt, most exactly remember, as I last parted with
There-
them in the conclusion of a former section.
fore, his next care must be, from two of the fore-
going, to extract a scheme of notions that may best
fit his understanding for a true relish of what is to
ensue.
JACK had not only calculated the first revolution
of his brain so prudently as to give rise to that epi-
demic sect of Æolists, but succeeding also into a
new and strange variety of conceptions, the fruit-
fulness of his imagination led him into certain no-
tions, which, although in appearance very unac-
countable, were not without their mysteries and
their meanings, nor wanted followers to counte-
nance and improve them. I shall therefore be ex-
tremely careful and exact in recounting such mate-
rial passages of this nature as I have been able to
collect, either from undoubted tradition or inde-
fatigable reading; and shall describe them as gra-
phically as it is possible, and as far as notions of
that height and latitude can be brought within the
compass of a pen. Nor do I at all question but
they will furnish plenty of noble matter for such
whose converting imaginations dispose them to re-
duce all things into types; who can make shadows,
substances, no thanks to philosophy; whose pecu-
no thanks to the sun; and then mould them into
liar talent lies in fixing tropes and allegories to the
letter, and refining what is literal into figure and
mystery.
a
JACK had provided a fair copy of his father's
will, engrossed in form upon a large skin of parch-
ment; and resolving to act the part of a most du-
tiful son, he became the fondest creature of it ima-
ginable. For although, as I have often told the
reader, it consisted wholly in certain plain, easy
directions, about the management and wearing of
their coats, with legacies, and penalties in case of
obedience or neglect, yet he began to entertain a
fancy that the matter was deeper and darker, and
therefore must needs have a great deal more of mys-
tery at the bottom. "Gentlemen," said he, " I
will prove this very skin of parchment to be meat,
drink, and cloth, to be the philosopher's stone and
the universal medicine." In consequence of which
raptures, he resolved to make use of it in the neces-
sary as well as the most paltry occasions of life.b
He had a way of working it into any shape he
pleased; so that it served him for a nightcap when
he went to bed, and for an umbrella in rainy wea-
ther. He would lap a piece of it about a sore toe,
or, when he had fits, burn two inches under his
nose; or, if anything lay heavy on his stomach,
scrape off and swallow as much of the powder as
remedies. With analogy to these refinements, his
would lie on a silver penny; they were all infallible
common talk and conversation ran wholly in the
phrase of his will, and he circumscribed the utmost
of his eloquence within that compass, not daring to
let slip a syllable without authority from that.c
Once, at a strange house, he was suddenly taken
short upon an urgent juncture, whereon it may not
be allowed too particularly to dilate; and being not
able to call to mind, with that suddenness the occa-
The following passage refers to the practice of the fanatics.
b The author lashes those pretenders to purity who place so
much merit in using scripture phrases.
• Tho fanatics pretend that nothing is lawful but what is ex-
pressly commanded in Scripturo.
A TALE OF A TUB
119
sion required, an authentle phrase for demanding
the way to the back-side, he chose rather, as the
most prudent course, to incur the penalty in such
cases usually annexed. Neither was it possible for
the united rhetoric of mankind to prevail with him
to make himself clean again; because, having con-
sulted the will upon this emergency, he met with a
passage near the bottom (whether foisted in by the
transcriber is not known) which seemed to for-
bid it.
He made it a part of his religion never to say
grace to his meat; nor could all the world persuade
him, as the common phrase is, to eat his victuals
like a christian.
He bore a strange kind of appetite to snap-dragon,
and to the livid snuffs of a burning candle, which
he would catch and swallow with an agility won-
derful to conceive; and, by this procedure, main-
tained a perpetual flame in his belly, which, issuing
in a glowing steam from both his eyes, as well as
his nostrils and his mouth, made his head appear,
in a dark night like the skull of an ass, wherein a
roguish boy had conveyed a farthing candle, to the
terror of his majesty's liege subjects. Therefore, he
made use of no other expedient to light himself
home, but was wont to say that a wise man was his
own lantern.
He would shut his eyes as he walked along the
streets, and if he happened to bounce his head
against a post, or fall into a kennel, as he seldom
missed either to do one or both, he would tell the
gibing apprentices who looked on that he submitted
with entire resignation as to a trip or a blow of fate,
with whom he found, by long experience, how vain
it was either to wrestle or to cuff; and whoever
durst undertake to do either would be sure to come
off with a swinging fall or a bloody nose. "It
was ordained," said he, "some few days before the
creation, that my nose and this very post should
have a rencounter; and therefore nature thought fit
to send us both into the world in the same age, and
to make us countrymen and fellow-citizens. Now,
had my eyes been open, it is very likely the business
might have been a great deal worse; for how many
a confounded slip is daily got by a man with all his
foresight about him? Besides, the eyes of the un-
derstanding see best when those of the senses are
out of the way; and therefore blind men are ob-
served to tread their steps with much more caution,
and conduct, and judgment, than those who rely
with too much confidence upon the virtue of the
visual nerve, which every little accident shakes out
of order, and a drop or a film can wholly discon-
cert; like a lantern among a pack of roaring bullies
when they scour the streets, exposing its owner and
itself to outward kicks and buffets, which both
might have escaped if the vanity of appearing would
have suffered them to walk in the dark. But far-
ther, if we examine the conduct of these boasted
lights, it will prove yet a great deal worse than their
fortune. It is true, I have broke my nose against
this post, because fortune either forgot, or did not
think it convenient, to twitch me by the elbow, and
give me notice to avoid it. But let not this encou-
rage either the present age or posterity to trust their
noses into the keeping of their eyes, which may
prove the fairest way of losing them for good and
all. For, O ye eyes, ye blind guides; miserable
guardians are ye of our frail noses; ye, I say, who
fasten upon the first precipice in view, and then
tow our wretched willing bodies after you to the
a The slovenly way of receiving the sacrament among the
fanatics.
b Absolute predestination burlesqued.
| very brink of destruction: and alas! that brink is
rotten, our feet slip, and we tumble down prone
into a gulf, without one hospitable shrub in the way
to break the fall; a fall to which not any nose of
mortal make is equal, except that of the giant Laur-
calco, who was lord of the silver bridge. Most pro-
perly, therefore, O eyes, and with great justice, may
you be compared to those foolish lights which con-
duct men through dirt and darkness, till they fall
into a deep pit or a noisome bog."
This I have produced as a scantling of Jack's
great eloquence, and the force of his reasoning upon
such abstruse matters.
He was, besides, a person of great design and
improvement in affairs of devotion, having intro-
duced a new deity, who has since met with a vast
number of worshippers; by some called Babel, by
others Chaos, who had an ancient temple of Gothic
structure upon Salisbury plain, famous for its shrine
and celebration by pilgrims.
When he had some roguish trick to play, he
would down with his knees, up with his eyes, and
fall to prayers, though in the midst of the kennel.
Then it was that those who understood his pranks
would be sure to get far enough out of his way;
and whenever curiosity attracted strangers to laugh
or to listen, he would, of a sudden, with one hand,
out with his gear and piss full in their eyes, and
with the other all bespatter them with mud.
In winter he went always loose and unbuttoned,b
and clad as thin as possible to let in the ambient
heat;c and in summer lapped himself close and
thick to keep it out.
In all revolutions of governmentd he would make
his court for the office of hangman general; and in
the exercise of that dignity, wherein he was very
dexterous, would make use of no other vizarde than
a long prayer.
He had a tongue so musculous and subtile, that
he could twist it up into his nose, and deliver a
strange kind of speech from thence.f He was also
the first in these kingdoms who began to improve
the Spanish accomplishment of braying; and having
large ears, perpetually exposed and erected, he
carried his art to such a perfection, that it was a
point of great difficulty to distinguish, either by the
view or the sound, between the original and the
copy.
He was troubled with a disease reverse to that
called the stinging of the tarantula; and would run
dog-mad at the noise of music,s especially a pair of
bagpipes [organs]. But he would cure himself
again by taking two or three turns in Westminster-
hall, or Billingsgate, or in a boarding-school, or the
Royal Exchange, or a state coffee-house. ·
He was a person that feared no colours, but mor-
tally hated all, and, upon that account, bore a cruel
aversion against painters, insomuch that, in his
paroxysms, as he walked the streets, he would have
his pockets loaden with stones to pelt at the signs.h
Having, from this manner of living, frequent oc-
casion to wash himself, he would often leap over
head and ears into water, though it were in the
midst of the winter, but was always observed to
a The villanies and cruelties committed by enthusiasts and
fanatics.
b Affected differences in habit and behaviour.
The fanatics opposing reasonable customs.
d Severe persecutors, in a form of cant and devotion.
• Cromwell and his confederates went, as they called it, to
seek the Lord, when they resolved to murder the king.
f Their cant and affected tones.
g Dissenters' aversion against instrumental music in churches.
h Defaced the statues and paintings in all the churches in
England.
Baptism of adults by plunging.
120
A TALE OF A TUB.
come out again much dirtier, if possible, than he
went in.
He was the first that ever found out the secret
of contriving a soporiferous medicine to be conveyed
in at the ears [fanatic preaching]; it was a com-
pound of sulphur and balm of Gilead, with a little
pilgrim's salve.
He wore a large plaster of artificial caustics on
his stomach, with the fervour of which he could set
himself a-groaning, like the famous board upon ap-
plication of a red-hot iron.
He would stand in the turning of a street, and,
calling to those who passed by, would cry to one,
"Worthy sir, do me the honour of a good slap in
the chaps."a To another, "Honest friend, pray
and intention which he had proposed to himself,
how could it avoid having terrible effects upon a
head and heart so furnished as his? However, the
poor remainders of his coat bore all the punish-
ment; the orient sun never entered upon his diurnal
progress without missing a piece of it. He hired a
tailor to stitch up the collar so close that it was
ready to choke him, and squeezed out his eyes at
such a rate as one could see nothing but the white.
What little was left of the main substance of the
coat he rubbed every day for two hours against a
rough-cast wall, in order to grind away the remnants
of lace and embroidery; but at the same time went
on with so much violence that he proceeded a hea-
then philosopher. Yet, after all he could do of this
kind, the success continued still to disappoint his
expectation. For, as it is the nature of rags to bear
a kind of mock resemblance to finery, there being a
sort of fluttering appearance in both which is not to
be distinguished at a distance, in the dark, or by
short-sighted eyes, so, in those junctures, it fared
with Jack and his tatters, that they offered to the
first view a ridiculous flaunting, which, assisting the
resemblance in person and air, thwarted all his pro-
jects of separation, and left so near a similitude be-
tween them as frequently deceived the very disciples
and followers of both.
favour me with a handsome kick on the arse :
Madam, shall I entreat a small box on the ear
from your ladyship's fair hands? Noble captain,
lend a reasonable thwack, for the love of God, with
that cane of yours over these poor shoulders." And
when he had, by such earnest solicitations, made a
shift to procure a basting sufficient to swell up his
fancy and his sides, he would return home extremely
comforted, and full of terrible accounts of what he
had undergone for the public good. "Observe this
stroke" (said he, showing his bare shoulders); “a
plaguy janizary gave it me this very morning, at
seven o'clock, as, with much ado, I was driving off
the great Turk. Neighbours, mind, this broken
head deserves a plaster; had poor Jack been tender |
of his noddle, you would have seen the pope and The old Sclavonian proverb said well, that it is
the French king, long before this time of day, among with men as with asses; whoever would keep them
your wives and your warehouses. Dear christians, fast must find a very good hold at their cars. Yet I
the great Mogul was come as far as Whitechapel, think we may affirm that it has been verified by re-
and you may thank these poor sides that he hath peated experience that-
not (God bless us!) already swallowed up man,
woman, and child."
It was highly worth observing the singular effects
of that aversion or antipathy which Jack and his
brother Peter seemed, even to an affectation, to bear
against each other. Peter had lately done some
rogueries that forced him to abscond, and he seldom
ventured to stir out before night, for fear of bailiffs.
Their lodgings were at the two most distant parts of
the town from each other; and whenever their oc-
casions or humours called them abroad, they would
make choice of the oddest unlikely times, and most
uncouth rounds they could invent, that they might
be sure to avoid one another; yet, after all this, it
was their perpetual fortune to meet. The reason
of which is easy enough to apprehend; for, the
phrensy and the spleen of both having the same
foundation, we may look upon them as two pair of
compasses,, equally extended, and the fixed foot of
each remaining in the same centre, which, though
moving contrary ways at first, will be sure to en-
counter somewhere or other in the circumference.
Besides, it was among the great misfortunes of Jack
to bear a huge personal resemblance with his bro-
ther Peter. Their humour and dispositions were
not only the same, but there was a close analogy in
their shape, their size, and their mien. Insomuch,
as nothing was more frequent than for a bailiff to
seize Jack by the shoulders, and cry, "Mr. Peter,
you are the king's prisoner." Or, at other times,
Or, at other times,
for one of Peter's nearest friends to accost Jack
with open arms, "Dear Peter, I am glad to see
thee; pray send me one of your best medicines for
the worms." This, we may suppose, was a mortify-
ing return of those pains and proceedings Jack had
laboured in so long; and finding how directly oppo-
site all his endeavours had answered to the sole end
• The fanatics have always had a way of affecting to run into
persecution.
Desunt non-
nulla.
*
*
*
*
*
Effugiet tamen hæc sceleratus vincula Proteus.
It is good, therefore, to read the maxims of our
ancestors, with great allowances to times and per-
sons; for, if we look into primitive records, we shall
find that no revolutions have been so great or so
frequent as those of human ears. In former days
there was a curious invention to catch and keep
them, which I think we may justly reckon among
the artes perdita; and how can it be otherwise, when
in the latter centuries the very species is not only
diminished to a very lamentable degree, but the poor
remainder is also degenerated so far as to mock our
skilfullest tenure? For, if the only slitting of one
ear in a stag has been found sufficient to propagate
the defect through a whole forest, why should we
wonder at the greatest consequences from so many
loppings and mutilations to which the ears of our
fathers, and our own, have been of late so much ex-
posed? It is true, indeed, that while this island of
ours was under the dominion of grace, many endea-
vours were made to improve the growth of ears once
more among us. The proportion of largeness was
not only looked upon as an ornament of the out-
ward man, but as a type of grace in the inward.
Besides, it is held by naturalists that, if there be a
protuberancy of parts in the superior region of the
body, as in the ears and nose, there must be a parity
also in the inferior: and, therefore, in that truly
pious age, the males in every assembly, according as
they were gifted, appeared very forward in exposing
their ears to view, and the regions about them; be-
cause Hippocrates tells us that, when the vein be-
hind the car happens to be cut, a man becomes an
eunuch; and the females were nothing backwarder
in beholding and edifying by them; whereof those
who had already used the means looked about them
with great concern, in hopes of conceiving a suitable
offspring by such a prospect: others, who stood can-
didates for benevolence. found there a plentiful
A TALE OF A TUB.
121
choice, and were sure to fix upon such as discovered
the largest ears, that the breed might not dwindle
between them. Lastly, the devouter sisters, who
looked upon all extraordinary dilatations of that
member as protrusions of zeal, or spiritual excres-
cences, were sure to honour every head they sat
upon as if they had been marks of grace; but espe-
cially that of the preacher, whose ears were usually
of the prime magnitude; which, upon that account,
he was very frequent and exact in exposing with all
advantages to the people; in his rhetorical paroxysms
turning sometimes to hold forth the one, and some-
times to hold forth the other from which custom
the whole operation of preaching is to this very day,
among their professors, styled by the phrase of hold-
ing forth.
:
Such was the progress of the saints for advancing
the size of that member; and it is thought the suc-
cess would have been every way answerable, if, in
process of time, a cruel king had not arisen,a who
raised a bloody persecution against all ears above a
certain standard: upon which, some were glad to
hide their flourishing sprouts in a black border,
others crept wholly under a periwig; some were
slit, others cropped, and a great number sliced off
to the stumps. But of this more hereafter in my
general history of ears, which I design very speedily
to bestow upon the public.
From this brief survey of the falling state of ears
in the last age, and the small care had to advance
their ancient growth in the present, it is manifest
how little reason we can have to rely upon a hold so
short, so weak, and so slippery, and that whoever desires
to catch mankind fast must have recourse to some
other methods. Now, he that will examine human
nature with circumspection enough may discover
several handles, whereof the six senses afford one
a-piece, beside a great number that are screwed to
the passions, and some few riveted to the intellect.
Among these last, curiosity is one, and, of all others,
affords the firmest grasp : curiosity, that spur in the
side, that bridle in the mouth, that ring in the nose,
of a lazy and impatient and a grunting reader. By
this handle it is, that an author should seize upon
his readers; which as soon as he has once compassed,
all resistance and struggling are in vain; and they
become his prisoners as close as he pleases, till weari-
ness or dulness force him to let go his gripe.
And therefore, I, the author of this miraculous
treatise, having hitherto, beyond expectation, main-
tained, by the aforesaid handle, a firm hold upon my
gentle readers, it is with great reluctance that I am
at length compelled to remit my grasp; leaving them,
in the perusal of what remains, to that natural os-
citancy inherent in the tribe. I can only assure
thee, courteous reader, for both our comforts, that
my concern is altogether equal to thine for my un-
happiness in losing, or mislaying among my papers,
the remaining part of these memoirs; which con-
sisted of accidents, turns, and adventures, both new,
agreeable, and surprising; and therefore calculated,
in all due points, to the delicate taste of this our
noble age. But, alas! with my utmost endeavours,
I have been able only to retain a few of the heads.
Under which, there was a full account how Peter
got a protection out of the king's bench; and of a
reconcilementb between Jack and him, upon a de-
sign they had, in a certain rainy night, to trepan
brother Martin into a spunging-house, and there
a Charles the Second, at his restoration, turned out all the
dissenting teachers that would not conform.
b In the reign of James the Second the presbyterians joined
the papists, against the church of England, and addressed him
for repeal of the penal laws and test.
| strip him to the skin. How Martin, with much ado,
showed them both a fair pair of heels.
How a new
warrant came out against Peter; upon which, how
Jack left him in the lurch, stole his protection, and
made use of it himself. How Jack's tatters came
into fashion in court and city; how he got upon a
But the particulars
great horse," and eat custard.
of all these, with several others which have now slid
out of my memory, are lost beyond all hopes of re-
covery.
For which misfortune, leaving my readers
to condole with each other, as far as they shall find
it to agree with their several constitutions, but con-
juring them by all the friendship that has passed be-
tween us, from the title-page to this, not to proceed
so far as to injure their healths for an accident past
remedy-I now go on to the ceremonial part of an
accomplished writer, and therefore, by a courtly mo-
dern, least of all others to be omitted.
THE CONCLUSION.
Well
GOING too long is a cause of abortion as effectual,
though not so frequent, as going too short, and holds
true especially in the labours of the brain.
fare the heart of that noble jesuit [Père d'Orleans]
who first adventured to confess in print that books
must be suited to their several seasons, like dress,
and diet, and diversions; and better fare our noble
nation for refining upon this among other French
modes. I am living fast to see the time when a
book that misses its tide shall be neglected, as the
moon by day, or like mackerel a week after the
season. No man has more nicely observed our
climate than the bookseller who bought the copy of
this work; he knows to a tittle what subjects will
best go
off in a dry year, and which it is proper to
expose foremost when the weather-glass is fallen to
much rain. When he had seen this treatise, and
consulted his almanac upon it, he gave me to under-
stand that he had manifestly considered the two
principal things, which were, the bulk and the sub-
ject, and found it would never take but after a long
vacation, and then only in case it should happen to
be a hard year for turnips. Upon which I desired
to know, considering my urgent necessities, what he
thought might be acceptable this month. He looked
westward and said, I doubt we shall have a fit of
bad weather; however, if you could prepare some
pretty little banter, (but not in verse,) or a small
treatise upon the it would run like wildfire.
But if it hold up, I have already hired an author to
write something against Dr Bentley, which I am
sure will turn to account.b
At length we agreed upon this expedient; that
when a customer comes for one of these, and desires
in confidence to know the author, he will tell him
very privately as a friend, naming whichever of the
wits shall happen to be that week in vogue; and if
Durfey's last play shall be in course, I would as
lieve he may be the person as Congreve. This I
mention, because I am wonderfully well acquainted
with the present relish of our courteous readers;
and have often observed with singular pleasure,
that a fly driven from a honey-pot will immediately,
with very good appetite, alight and finish his meal
on an excrement.
I have one word to say upon the subject of pro-
found writers, who are grown very numerous of
a Sir Humphry Edwin, a presbyterian, when lord mayor
of London, went in his formalities to a conventicle.
b When Dr. Prideaux took his Connection of the Old and
New Testament to the bookseller, he told him it was a dry
subject, and the printing could not be ventured unless ho
would enliven it with a little humour.
122
THE HISTORY OF MARTIN.
that it is become a very general complaint, and has
produced the same effects upon many others. For
I have remarked many a towardly word to be wholly
neglected or despised in discourse, which has passed
very smoothly with some consideration and esteem
after its preferment and sanction in print. But
late; and I know very well the Judicious world is
resolved to list me in that number. I conceive
therefore, as to the business of being profound, that
it is with writers as with wells-a person with
good eyes may see to the bottom of the deepest,
provided any water be there; and often when there
is nothing in the world at the bottom besides dry-now, since by the liberty and encouragement of the
ness and dirt, though it be but a yard and a half
under-ground, it shall pass, however for wondrous
deep, upon no wiser a reason than because it is
wondrous dark.
I am now trying an experiment very frequent
among modern authors, which is to write upon no-
thing; when the subject is utterly exhausted, to let
the pen still move on: by some called the ghost of
wit, delighting to walk after the death of its body.
And to say the truth, there seems to be no part of
knowledge in fewer hands than that of discerning
when to have done. By the time that an author
has written out a book he and his readers are be-
come old acquaintance, and grow very loth to part;
so that I have sometimes known it to be in writing
as in visiting, where the ceremony of taking leave
has employed more time than the whole conversa-
tion before. The conclusion of a treatise resembles
the conclusion of human life, which has sometimes
been compared to the end of a feast, where few are
satisfied to depart, ut plenus vitæ conviva; for men
will sit down after the fullest meal, though it be
only to doze or to sleep out the rest of the day. But
in this latter I differ extremely from other writers;
and shall be too proud if, by all my labours, I can
have anyways contributed to the repose of mankind
in times so turbulent and unquiet as these. Neither
do I think such an employment so very alien from
the office of a wit as some would suppose. For,
among a very polite nation in Greece, there were
the same temples built and consecrated to Sleep and
the Muses; between which two deities they be-
lieved the strictest friendship was established.
I have one concluding favour to request of my
reader, that he will not expect to be equally diverted
and informed by every line or every page of this
discourse; but give some allowance to the author's
spleen and short fits or intervals of dulness, as well
as his own; and lay it seriously to his conscience,
whether, if he were walking the streets in dirty
weather or a rainy day, he would allow it fair deal-
ing in folks at their ease from a window to criticise
his gait and ridicule his dress at such a juncture.
press, I am grown absolute master of the occasions
and opportunities to expose the talents I have ac-
quired, I already discover that the issues of my ob-
servanda begin to grow too large for the receipts.
Therefore I shall here pause a while, till I find, by
feeling the world's pulse and my own, that it will
be of absolute necessity for us both to resume my
pen.
THE HISTORY OF MARTIN.
Giving an account of his departure from Jack, and their set-
ting up for themselves, on which account they were obliged
to travel and meet many disasters, finding no shelter near
Peter's habitation; Martin succeeds in the north: Peter
thunders against Martin for the loss of the large revenue he
used to receive from thence. Harry Huff sent Martin a
challenge to fight, which he received; Peter rewards Harry
for the pretended victory, which encouraged Harry to huff
Peter also. With many other extraordinary adventures of
the said Martin in several places with many considerable
persons.
With a digression concerning the nature, usefulness, and ne-
cessity of wars and quarrels.
How Jack and Martin, being parted, set up each
for himself. How they travelled over hills and
dales, met many disasters, suffered much from the
good cause, and struggled with difficulties and
wants, not having where to lay their head; by all
which they afterwards proved themselves to be right
father's sons, and Peter to be spurious. Finding
no shelter near Peter's habitation, Martin travelled
northwards, and finding the Thuringians and neigh-
bouring people disposed to change, he set up his
stage first among them; where, making it his busi-
ness to cry down Peter's powders, plasters, salves,
and drugs, which he had sold a long time at a dear
rate, allowing Martin none of the profit, though he
had been often employed in recommending and
putting them off; the good people, willing to save
their pence, began to hearken to Martin's speeches.
How several great lords took the hint, and on the
same account declared for Martin; particularly one,
who not having enough of one wife wanted to
marry a second; and knowing Peter used not to
grant such licences but at a swinging price, he struck
up a bargain with Martin, whom he found more
tractable, and who assured him he had the same
power to allow such things. How most of the other
northern lords, for their own private ends, withdrew
themselves and their dependants from Peter's autho-
rity, and closed in with Martin. How Peter,
enraged at the loss of such large territories, and
consequently of so much revenue, thundered against
Martin, and sent out the strongest and most terrible
of his bulls to devour him; but this having no effect,
and Martin defending himself boldly and dexter-
ously, Peter at last put forth proclamations, declar-
ing Martin and all his adherents rebels and traitors,
ordaining and requiring all his loving subjects to
take up arms, and to kill, burn, and destroy all and
every one of them, promising large rewards, &c.
upon which ensued bloody wars and desolation.
In my disposure of employments of the brain I
have thought fit to make invention the master, and
to give method and reason the office of its lackeys.
The cause of this distribution was, from observing
it my peculiar case to be often under a temptation
of being witty, upon occasions where I could be
neither wise, nor sound, nor anything to the matter
in hand. And I am too much a servant of the mo-
dern way to neglect any such opportunities, what-
ever pains or improprieties I may be at to introduce
them. For I have observed that, from a laborious
collection of seven hundred and thirty-cight flowers
and shining hints of the best modern authors, di-
gested with great reading into my book of common-
places, I have not been able, after five years, to
draw, hook, or force into common conversation, any
more than a dozen. Of which dozen, the one moiety
failed of success by being dropped among unsuitable
company; and the other cost me so many strains
and traps and ambages to introduce, that I at
length resolved to give it over. Now, this disap-back-sword, &c. Hence the origin of that gentecl
pointment (to discover a secret), I must own, gave
me the first hint of setting up for an author; and I
have since found among some particular friends,
How Harry Huff,a lord of Albion, one of the
greatest bullies of those days, sent a cartel to Martin
to fight him on a stage, at cudgels, quarter-staff,
custom of prize-fighting, so well known and prac-
tised to this day among those polite islanders,
a IIonry VIII.'s controversy with Luther in behalf of the pope.
THE HISTORY OF MARTIN.
123
though unknown everywhere else. How Martin,
being a bold blustering fellow, accepted the chal-
lenge; how they met and fought, to the great diver-
sion of the spectators; and, after giving one another
broken heads and many bloody wounds and bruises,
how they both drew off victorious; in which their
example has been frequently imitated by great clerks
and others since that time. How Martin's friends
applauded his victory; and how lord Harry's friends
complimented him on the same score; and particu-
larly lord Peter, who sent him a fine feather for his
cap,a to be worn by him and his successors as a per-
petual mark for his bold defence of lord Peter's
cause. How Harry, flushed with his pretended
victory over Martin, began to huff Peter also, and at
last downright quarrelled with him about a wench.b
How some of lord Harry's tenants, ever fond of
changes, began to talk kindly of Martin, for which
he mauled them soundly; as he did also those that
adhered to Peter. How he turned some out of
house and hold, others he hanged or burnt, &c.
was succeeded by a north-country farmer, who pre-
tended great skill in the managing of farms, though
he could never govern his own poor little farm, nor
How this
yet this large new one after he got it.
new landlord, to show his valour and dexterity,
fought against enchanters, weeds, giants, and wind-
mills, and claimed great honour for his victories,
though he ofttimes b-sh-t himself when there was no
danger. How his successor, no wiser than he, occa-
sioned great disorders by the new methods he took
to manage his farms. How he attempted to esta-
blish, in his northern farm, the same dispensatory
used in the southern, but miscarried because Jack's
powders, pills, salves, and plasters, were there in
great vogue.
How the author finds himself embarrassed for
having introduced into his history a new sect, differ-
ing from the three he had undertaken to treat of,
and how his inviolable respect to the sacred number
three obliges him to reduce these four, as he intends
to do all other things, to that number;a and for that
end to drop the former Martin, and to substitute in
his place lady Bess's institution, which is to pass
under the name of Martin in the sequel of this true
history. This weighty point being cleared, the au-
thor goes on and describes mighty quarrels and
squabbles between Jack and Martin [great civil
war]; how sometimes the one had the better, and
sometimes the other, to the great desolation of both
farms, till at last both sides concur to hang up the
landlord, who pretended to die a martyr for Martin,
though he had been true to neither side, and was
suspected by many to have a great affection for
Peter.
A DIGRESSION ON THE NATURE, USE-
FULNESS, AND NECESSITY OF WARS
AND QUARRELS.
How Harry Huff, after a good deal of blustering,
wenching, and bullying, died, and was succeeded by
a good-natured boy [Edward VI.], who, giving way
to the general bent of his tenants, allowed Martin's
notions to spread everywhere and take deep root in
Albion. How, after his death, the farm fell into the
hands of a lady who was violently in love with lord
Peter [queen Mary]. How she purged the whole
country with fire and sword, resolved not to leave
the name or remembrance of Martin. How Peter
triumphed, and set up shops again for selling his
own powders, plasters, and salves, which were now
called the only true ones, Martin's being all declared
counterfeit. How great numbers of Martin's friends
left the country, and, travelling up and down in
foreign parts, grew acquainted with many of Jack's
followers, and took a liking to many of their notions
and ways, which they afterwards brought back into
Albion, now under another lady, more moderate
and more cunning than the former. How she en-
deavoured to keep friendship both with Peter and
Martin, and trimmed for some time between the
two, not without countenancing and assisting at the
same time many of Jack's followers; but, finding no
possibility of reconciling all the three brothers, be-
cause each would be master and allow no other
slaves, powders, or plasters to be used but his own,
she discarded all three, and set up a shop for those
of her own farm, well furnished with powders,
plasters, salves, and all other drugs necessary, all
right and true, composed according to receipts made
by physicians and apothecaries of her own creating,
which they extracted out of Peter's, and Martin's,
and Jack's receipt-books, and of this medley or
hodgepodge made up a dispensatory of their own;
strictly forbidding any other to be used, and particu-
larly Peter's, from which the greatest part of this
new dispensatory was stolen. How the lady, farther
to confirm this change, wisely imitating her father,
degraded Peter from the rank he pretended as
eldest brother, and set up herself in his place as
head of the family, and ever after wore her father's
old cap, with the fine feather he had got from Peter
for standing his friend; which has likewise been
worn with no small ostentation to this day by all her
successors, though declared enemies to Peter. How
lady Bess and her physicians, being told of many de-
fects and imperfections in their new medley dispensa-spirited that live in peace with all men. The modest
tory, resolve on a farther alteration, and to purge it
from a great deal of Peter's trash that still remained
in it, but were prevented by her death. How she
"Defender of the Faith."
↳ Henry VIII.'s love for Ann Bullen
|
THIS being a matter of great consequence, the au-
thor intends to treat it methodically and at large in
a treatise apart, and here to give only some hints of
what his large treatise contains. The state of war
natural to all creatures. War is an attempt to take
by violence from others a part of what they have and
we want. Every man fully sensible of his own merit,
and finding it not duly regarded by others, has a
natural right to take from them all that he thinks
due to himself; and every creature, finding its own
wants more than those of others, has the same right
to take everything its nature requires. Brutes
much more modest in their pretensions this way
than men; and mean men more than great ones.
The higher one raises his pretensions this way, the
more bustle he makes about them; and the more
success he has, the greater hero. Thus greater souls,
in proportion to their superior merit, claim a greater
right to take everything from meaner folks. This
the true foundation of grandeur and heroism, and of
the distinction of degrees among men. War there-
fore necessary to establish subordination, and to
found cities, kingdoms, &c., as also to purge bodies
politic of
politic of gross humours. Wise princes find it ne-
cessary to have wars abroad, to keep peace at home.
War, famine, and pestilence, the usual cures for cor-
ruptions in bodies politic. A comparison of these
three. The author is to write a panegyric on each
of them. The greatest part of mankind loves war
more than peace. They are but few and mean-
and meek of all kinds always a prey to those of
more noble or stronger appetites. The inclination
to war universal: those that cannot, or dare not,
a "A panegyrical Essay upon the number THREE" is among
the treatises advertised at the beginning of the Tale of a Tub.
124
THE HISTORY OF MARTIN.-A PROJECT, ETC.
make war in person, employ others to do it for them.
This maintains bullies, bravoes, cut-throats, lawyers,
soldiers, &c. Most professions would be useless if
all were peaceable. Hence brutes want neither
smith nor lawyers, magistrates nor joiners, soldiers
nor surgeons. Brutes, having but narrow appetites,
are incapable of carrying on or perpetuating war
against their own species, or of being led out in
troops and multitudes to destroy one another. These
The excellency
prerogatives proper to man alone.
of human nature demonstrated by the vast train of
appetites, passions, wants, &c., that attend it. This
matter to be more fuily treated in the author's Pane-
gyric on Mankind.
ቢ
THE HISTORY OF MARTIN (CONTINUEd).
How Jack, having got rid of the old landlord, set
up another to his mind [Cromwell], quarrelled with
Martin, and turned him out of doors. How he pil-
laged all his shops, and abolished the whole dispensa-
tory.
How the new landlord laid about him,
mauled Peter, worried Martin, and made the whole
neighbourhood tremble. How Jack's friends fell
out among themselves, split into a thousand parties,
turned all things topsyturvy, till everybody grew
weary of them; and at last, the blustering landlord
dying, Jack was kicked out of doors, a new landlord
brought in, and Martin re-established [Restoration].
How this new landlord let Martin do what he
pleased, and Martin agreed to everything his pious
landlord desired, provided Jack might be kept low.
Of several efforts Jack made to raise up his head,
but all in vain; till at last the landlord died, and
was succeeded by one who was a great friend to
Peter, who, to humble Martin, gave Jack some
liberty. How Martin grew enraged at this, called
in a foreigner, and turned out the landlord; in
which Jack concurred with Martin, because this
landlord was entirely devoted to Peter, into whose
arms he threw himself, and left his country [Revo-
lution]. How the new landlord secured Martin in
the full possession of his former rights, but would
not allow him to destroy Jack, who had always been
his friend. How Jack got up his head in the north,
and put himself in possession of a whole canton,b
to the great discontent of Martin, who, finding also
that some of Jack's friends were allowed to live and
get their bread in the south parts of the country,
grew highly discontent with the new landlord he
had called in to his assistance. How this landlord
kept Martin in order, upon which he fell into a
raging fever, and swore he would hang himself or
join in with Peter, unless Jack's children were all
turned out to starve.c Of several attempts made to
cure Martin, and make peace between him and Jack,
that they might unite against Peter; but all made in-
effectual by the great address of a number of Peter's
friends, that herded among Martin's, and appeared the
most zealous for his interest. How Martin, getting
abroad in this mad fit, looked so like Peter in his
air and dress, and talked so like him, that many of
the neighbours could not distinguish the one from
the other; especially when Martin went up and
down strutting in Peter's armour, which he had bor-
rowed to fight Jack. What remedies were used to
cure Martin's distemper.
*
*
*
Here the author being seized with a fit of dulness,
(to which he is very subject,) after having read a
poetical epistle addressed to ****, it entirely com-
posed his senses, so that he has not writ a line since.
N.B. Some things that follow after this are not in
Indulgences to sectaries. b Presbytery in Scotland.
c Clamour that the church was in danger.
the MS., but seem to have been written since, to
fill up the place of what was not thought convenient
then to print.
A PROJECT FOR THE UNIVERSAL
BENEFIT OF MANKIND.
THE author, having laboured so long, and done so
much, to serve and instruct the public, without any
advantage to himself, has at last thought of a project
which will tend to the great benefit of all mankind
and produce a handsome revenue to the author. He
intends to print by subscription, in 96 large volumes
in folio, an exact description of Terra Australis in-
cognita, collected with great care and pains from 999
learned and pious authors of undoubted veracity.
The whole work, illustrated with maps and cuts
agreeable to the subject, and done by the best mas-
ters, will cost but one guinea each volume to sub-
scribers; one guinea to be paid in advance, and
afterwards a guinea on receiving each volume, ex-
cept the last. This work will be of great use for all
men, and necessary for all families, because it con-
tains exact accounts of all the provinces, colonies,
and mansions of that spacious country, where, by
a general doom, all transgressors of the law are to
be transported; and every one having this work may
choose out the fittest and best place for himself,
there being enough for all, so as every one shall be
fully satisfied.
He
The author supposes that one copy of this work
will be bought at the public charge, or out of the
parish-rates, for every parish-church in the three
kingdoms, and in all the dominions thereunto be-
longing; and that every family that can command
ten pounds per annum, even though retrenched from
less necessary expenses, will subscribe for one.
does not think of giving out above nine volumes
yearly; and considering the number requisite, he
intends to print at least 100,000 for the first edition.
He is to print proposals against next term, with a
specimen, and a curious map of the capital city, with
its twelve gates, from a known author, who took an
exact survey of it in a dream. Considering the
great care and pains of the author, and the useful-
ness of the work, he hopes every one will be ready,
for their own good as well as his, to contribute
cheerfully to it, and not grudge him the profit he
may have by it, especially if it comes to a third or
fourth edition, as he expects it will very soon.
He doubts not but it will be translated into fo-
reign languages by most nations of Europe, as well
as of Asia and Africa, being of as great use to all
those nations as to his own; for this reason, he de-
signs to procure patents and privileges for securing
the whole benefit to himself from all those different
princes and states; and hopes to see many millions
of this great work printed, in those different coun-
tries and languages, before his death.
After this business is pretty well established, he
has promised to put a friend on another project,
almost as good as this, by establishing insurance-
offices everywhere for securing people from ship-
wreck and several other accidents in their voyage to
this country; and these offices shall furnish, at a
certain rate, pilots well versed in the route, and that
know all the rocks, shelves, quicksands, &c., that
Of
such pilgrims and travellers may be exposed to.
these he knows a great number ready instructed in
most countries: but the whole scheme of this mat-
ter he is to draw up at large and communicate to his
friend.
Here ends the manuscript.
125
A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT
OF THE
BATTLE FOUGHT LAST FRIDAY BETWEEN THE ANCIENT
AND THE MODERN BOOKS
IN SAINT JAMES'S LIBRARY.
THE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER.
THE following discourse, as it is unquestionably of
the same author, so it seems to have been written
about the same time, with the former; I mean the
year 1697, when the famous dispute was on foot
about ancient and modern learning. The contro-
versy took its rise from an essay of sir William
Temple's upon that subject; which was answered
by W. Wotton, B. D., with an appendix by Dr.
Bentley, endeavouring to destroy the credit of Æsop
and Phalaris for authors, whom sir William Tempie
had, in the essay before mentioned, highly com-
mended. In that appendix the doctor falls hard
upon a new edition of Phalaris, put out by the
honourable Charles Boyle, now earl of Orrery, to
which Mr. Boyle replied at large with great learning
and wit and the doctor voluminously rejoined.
In this dispute the town highly resented to see a
person of sir William Temple's character and merits
roughly used by the two reverend gentlemen afore-
said, and without any manner of provocation. At
length, there appearing no end of the quarrel, our
author tells us that the BOOKS in St. James's
Library, looking upon themselves as parties princi-
pally concerned, took up the controversy, and came
to a decisive battle; but the manuscript, by the in-
jury of fortune or weather, beingin several places im-
perfect, we cannot learn to which side the victory fell.
I must warn the reader to beware of applying to
persons what is here meant only of books, in the
most literal sense. So, when Virgil is mentioned,
we are not to understand the person of a famous
poet called by that name; but only certain sheets of
paper bound up in leather, containing in print the
works of the said poet: and so of the rest.
THE PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR.
SATIRE is a sort of glass wherein beholders do ge-
nerally discover everybody's face but their own;
which is the chief reason for that kind reception it
meets with in the world, and that so very few are
offended with it. But, if it should happen other-
wise, the danger is not great; and I have learned
from long experience never to apprehend mischief
from those understandings I have been able to pro-
voke for anger and fury, though they add strength
to the sinews of the body, yet are found to relax
those of the mind, and to render all its efforts feeble
and impotent.
:
There is a brain that will endure but one scum-
ming; let the owner gather it with discretion, and
manage his little stock with husbandry; but, of all
things, let him beware of bringing it under the lash
of his betters, because that will make it all bubble
up into impertinence, and he will find no new supply.
Wit without knowledge being a sort of cream,
which gathers in a night to the top, and by a skilful
hand may be soon whipped into froth; but once
scummed away, what appears underneath will be
fit for nothing but to be thrown to the hogs.
A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT, ETC.
WHOEVER examines, with due circumspection, into
the annual records of time, will find it remarked that
war is the child of pride, and pride the daughter of
riches: the former of which assertions may be soon
granted, but one cannot so easily subscribe to the
latter for pride is nearly related to beggary and
want, either by father or mother, and sometimes by
both and, to speak naturally, it very seldom hap-
pens among men to fall out when all have enough;
invasions usually travelling from north to south,
that is to say, from poverty to plenty. The most
ancient and natural grounds of quarrels are lust and
avarice; which, though we may allow to be brethren,
or collateral branches of pride, are certainly the is-
sues of want. For, to speak in the phrase of writers
upon politics, we may observe in the republic of
dogs, which in its original seems to be an insti-
tution of the many, that the whole state is ever in
the profoundest peace after a full meal; aud that
civil broils arise among them when it happens for
one great bone to be seized on by some leading dog,
who either divides it among the few, and then it falls
to an oligarchy, or keeps it to himself, and then it
runs up to a tyranny. The same reasoning also
holds place among them in those dissensions we be-
hold upon a turgescency in any of their females.
For the right of possession lying in common, (it be-
ing impossible to establish a property in so delicate
a case,) jealousies and suspicions do so abound, that
the whole commonwealth of that street is reduced
to a manifest state of war, of every citizen against
every citizen, till some one of more courage, con-
duct, or fortune than the rest seizes and enjoys the
prize: upon which naturally arises plenty of heart-
burning, and envy, and snarling against the happy
dog. Again if we look upon any of these republics
engaged in a foreign war, either of invasion or de-
fence, we shall find the same reasoning will serve as
to the grounds and occasions of each; and that
poverty or want, in some degree or other, (whether
real or in opinion, which makes no alteration in the
case,) has a great share, as well as pride, on the part
of the aggressor.
But
Now, whoever will please to take this scheme,
and either reduce or adapt it to an intellectual state
or commonwealth of learning, will soon discover the
first ground of disagreement between the two great
parties at this time in arms, and may form just
conclusions upon the merits of either cause.
the issue or events of this war are not so easy to
conjecture at; for the present quarrel is so inflamed
by the warm heads of either faction, and the preten-
sions somewhere or other so exorbitant, as not to
admit the least overtures of accommodation. This
quarrel first began, as I have heard it affirmed by an
old dweller in the neighbourhood, about a small
spot of ground, lying and being upon one of the two
tops of the hill Parnassus; the highest and largest
of which had, it seems, been time out of mind in
quiet possession of certain tenants, called the An-
cients; and the other was held by the Moderns.
But these, disliking their present station, sent cer-
tain ambassadors to the ancients, complaining of a
great nuisance; how the height of that part of Par-
nassus quite spoiled the prospect of theirs, especially
toward the east; and therefore, to avoid a war,
126
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
offered them the choice of this alternative, cither that
the ancients would please to remove themselves and
their effects down to the lower summit, which the
moderns would graciously surrender to them, and ad-
vance into their place; or else the said ancients will
give leave to the moderns to come with shovels and
mattocks, and level the said hill as low as they shall
think it convenient. To which the ancients made
answer, how little they expected such a message as
this from a colony whom they had admitted, out of
their own free grace, to so near a neighbourhood.
That, as to their own seat, they were aborigines of
it, and therefore to talk with them of a removal or
surrender was a language they did not understand.
That if the height of the hill on their side shortened
the prospect of the moderns, it was a disadvantage
they could not help; but desired them to consider
whether that injury (if it be any) were not largely
recompensed by the shade and shelter it afforded
them. That as to the levelling or digging down, it
was either folly or ignorance to propose it if they
did or did not know how that side of the hill was an
entire rock, which would break their tools and
hearts, without any damage to itself. That they
would therefore advise the moderns rather to raise
their own side of the hill than dream of pulling down
that of the ancients; to the former of which they
would not only give licence, but also largely contri-
bute. All this was rejected by the moderns with
much indignation, who still insisted upon one of the
two expedients; and so this difference broke out
into a long and obstinate war, maintained on the
one part by resolution, and by the courage of cer
tain leaders and allies; but, on the other, by the
greatness of their number, upon all defeats affording
continual recruits. In this quarrel whole rivulets of
ink have been exhausted, and the virulence of both
parties enormously augmented. Now, it must be
here understood that ink is the great missive weapon
in all battles of the learned, which, conveyed through
a sort of engine called a quill, infinite numbers of
these are darted at the enemy by the valiant on
each side, with equal skill and violence, as if it were
an engagement of porcupines. This malignant liquor
was compounded, by the engineer who invented it,
of two ingredients, which are, gall and copperas; by
its bitterness and venom to suit, in some degree, as
well as to foment, the genius of the combatants.
And as the Grecians, after an engagement, when
they could not agree about the victory, were wont
to set up trophies on both sides, the beaten party
being content to be at the same expense, to keep it-
self in countenance, (a laudable and ancient custom,
happily revived of late in the art of war,) so the
learned, after a sharp and bloody dispute, do, on
both sides, hang out their trophies too, whichever
comes by the worst. These trophies have largely
inscribed on them the merits of the cause; a full im-
partial account of such a battle, and how the victory
fell clearly to the party that set them up. They are
known to the world under several names; as disputes,
arguments, rejoinders, brief considerations, answers,
replies, remarks, reflections, objections, confuta-
tions. For a very few days they are fixed up in all
public places, either by themselves or their repre-
sentatives, for passengers to gaze at; whence the
chiefest and largest are removed to certain magazines
they call libraries, there to remain in a quarter pur-
posely assigned them, and thenceforth begin to be
called books of controversy.
In these books is wonderfully instilled and pre-
served the spirit of each warrior while he is alive;
and after his death his soul transmigrates thither to
inform them. This at least is the more common
opinion; but I believe it is with libraries as with
❘
other cemetries; where some philosophers affirm
that a certain spirit, which they call brutum hominis,
hovers over the monument, till the body is cor-
rupted and turns to dust or to worms, but then
vanishes or dissolves; so, we may say, a restless
spirit haunts over every book, till dust or worms
have seized upon it; which to some may happen in
a few days, but to others later: and therefore books
of controversy, being, of all others, haunted by the
most disorderly spirits, have always been confined
in a separate lodge from the rest; and for fear of a
mutual violence against each other, it was thought
prudent by our ancestors to bind them to the peace
with strong iron chains. Of which invention the
original occasion was this: When the works of
Scotus first came out, they were carried to a certain
library, and had lodgings appointed them; but this
author was no sooner settled than he went to visit
his master Aristotle; and there both concerted toge-
ther to seize Plato by main force, and turn him out
from his ancient station among the divines, where
he had peaceably dwelt near eight hundred years.
The attempt succeeded, and the two usurpers have
reigned ever since in his stead: but, to maintain
quiet for the future, it was decreed that all polemics
of the larger size should be held fast with a chain.
By this expedient the public peace of libraries
might certainly have been preserved if a new spe-
cies of controversial books had not arisen of late
years, instinct with a more malignant spirit, from
the war above mentioned between the learned about
the higher summit of Parnassus.
When these books were first admitted into the
public libraries, I remember to have said, upon oc-
casion, to several persons concerned, how I was sure
they would create broils wherever they came, un-
less a world of care were taken: and therefore I ad-
vised that the champions of each side should be
coupled together, or otherwise mixed, that, like the
blending of contrary poisons, their malignity might
be employed among themselves.
themselves. And it seems I
was neither an ill prophet nor an ill counsellor; for
it was nothing else but the neglect of this caution
which gave occasion to the terrible fight that hap-
pened on Friday last between the ancient and mo-
dern books in the king's library. Now, because the
talk of this battle is so fresh in everybody's mouth,
and the expectation of the town so great to be in-
formed in the particulars, I, being possessed of all
qualifications requisite in an historian, and retained
by neither party, have resolved to comply with the
urgent importunity of my friends, by writing down a
full impartial account thereof.
a
The guardian of the regal library, a person of
great valour, but chiefly renowned for his humanity,
had been a fierce champion for the moderns; and,
in an engagement upon Parnassus, had vowed,
with his own hands to knock down two of the an-
cient chiefs, who guarded a small pass on the supe-
rior rock; but, endeavouring to climb up, was
cruelly obstructed by his own unhappy weight and
tendency towards his centre; a quality to which
those of the modern party are extremely subject;
for, being light-headed, they have, in speculation, a
wonderful agility, and conceive nothing too high for
them to mount; but, in reducing to practice, disco-
ver a mighty pressure about their posteriors and
their heels. Having thus failed in his design, the
disappointed champion bore a cruel rancour to the
ancients; which he resolved to gratify by showing
all marks of his favour to the books of their adver-
suries, and lodging them in the fairest apartments;
"The honourable Mr. Boyle, in the preface to his edition
of Phalaris, says he was refused a MS. by the library-keeper,
Dr. Bentley; the two ancients were Phalaris and Esop.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
127
when, at the same time, whatever book had the
boldness to own itself for an advocate of the ancients
was buried alive in some obscure corner, and threat-
ened, upon the least displeasure, to be turned out
of doors. Besides, it so happened that about this
time there was a strange confusion of place among
all the books in the library; for which several rea-
sons were assigned. Some imputed it to a great
heap of learned dust, which a perverse wind blew
off from a shelf of moderns into the keeper's eyes.
Others affirmed he had a humour to pick the worms
out of the schoolmen, and swallow them fresh and
fasting; whereof some fell upon his spleen, and
some climed up into his head, to the great perturba-
tion of both. And lastly, others maintained that,
by walking much in the dark about the library, he
had quite lost the situation of it out of his head;
and therefore, in replacing his books, he was apt to
mistake, and clap Des Cartes next to Aristotle ; poor
Plato had got between Hobbes and the Seven Wise
Masters, and Virgil was hemmed in with Dryden on
one side and Withers on the other.
Meanwhile those books that were advocates for
the moderns chose out one from among them to
make a progress through the whole library, examine
the number and strength of their party, and concert
their affairs. This messenger performed all things
very industriously, and brought back with him a list
of their forces, in all, fifty thousand, consisting
chiefly of light-horse, heavy-armed foot, and mer-
cenaries; whereof the foot were in general but
sorrily armed and worse clad; their horses large,
but extremely out of case and heart; however, some
few, by trading among the ancients, had furnished
themselves tolerably enough.
While things were in this ferment, discord grew
extremely high; hot words passed on both sides,
and ill blood was plentifully bred. Here a solitary
ancient, squeezed up among a whole shelf of mo-
derns, offered fairly to dispute the case, and to prove
by manifest reason that the priority was due to
them from long possession, and in regard of their
prudence, antiquity, and, above all, their great
merits toward the moderns. But these denied the
premises, and seemed very much to wonder how
the ancients could pretend to insist upon their anti-
quity, when it was so plain (if they went to that)
that the moderns were much the more ancient of
the two. As for any obligations they owed to the
ancients, they renounced them all. It is true, said
they, we are informed some few of our party have
been so mean to borrow their subsistence from you;
but the rest, infinitely the greater number, (and
especially we French and English,) were so far
from stooping to so base an example, that there
never passed, till this very hour, six words between
us. For our horses were of our own breeding, our
arms of our own forging, and our clothes of our own
cutting out and sewing. Plato was by chance up on
the next shelf, and observing those that spoke to be
in the ragged plight mentioned a while ago; their
jades lean and foundered, their weapons of rotten
wood, their armour rusty, and nothing but rags
underneath; he laughed loud, and in his pleasant
way swore, by he believed them.
Now, the moderns had not proceeded in their late
negotiation with secrecy enough to escape the notice
of the enemy. For those advocates who had begun
the quarrel, by setting first on foot the dispute of
precedency, talked so loud of coming to a battle,
that sir William Temple happened to overhear
them, and gave immediate intelligence to the an-
cients; who thereupon drew up their scattered
troops together, resolving to act upon the defensive ;
The allics who espoused the cause of ancient learning.
upon which, several of the moderns fled over to
their party, and among the rest Temple himself.
This Temple, having been educated and long con-
versed among the ancients, was, of all the moderns,
their greatest favourite, and became their greatest
champion.
Things were at this crisis when a material acci-
dent fell out. For upon the highest corner of a
large window there dwelt a certain spider, swollen
up to the first magnitude by the destruction of infi-
nite numbers of flies, whose spoils lay scattered be-
fore the gates of his palace, like human bones
before the cave of some giant. The avenues to his
castle were guarded with turnpikes and palisadoes,
all after the modern way of fortification. After you
had passed several courts you came to the centre,
wherein you might behold the constable himself in
his own lodgings, which had windows fronting to
each avenue, and ports to sally out upon all occa-
sions of prey or defence. In this mansion he had
for some time dwelt in peace and plenty, without
danger to his person by swallows from above, or to
his palace by brooms from below: when it was the
pleasure of fortune to conduct thither a wandering
bee, to whose curiosity a broken pane in the glass
had discovered itself, and in he went; where, expa-
tiating a while, he at last happened to alight upon
one of the outward walls of the spider's citadel ;
which, yielding to the unequal weight, sunk down
to the very foundation. Thrice he endeavoured to
force his passage, and thrice the centre shook. The
spider within, feeling the terrible convulsion, sup-
posed at first that nature was approaching to her
final dissolution; or else, that Beelzebub, with all
his legions, was come to revenge the death of many
thousands of his subjects whom his enemy had slain
and devoured. However, he at length valiantly re-
solved to issue forth and meet his fate. Meanwhile
the bee had acquitted himself of his toils, and,
posted securely at some distance, was employed in
cleansing his wings, and disengaging them from the
ragged remnants of the cobweb. By this time the
spider was adventured out, when, beholding the
chasms, the ruins, and dilapidations of his fortress,
he was very near at his wits' end; he stormed and
swore like a madman, and swelled till he was ready
to burst. At length, casting his eye upon the bee,
and wisely gathering causes from events, (for they
knew each other by sight,) A plague split you, said
he, for a giddy son of a whore; is it you, with a
vengeance, that have made this litter here? could
not you look before you, and be d-d? do you think
I have nothing else to do (in the devil's name) but
to mend and repair after your arse?-Good words,
friend, said the bee (having now pruned himself,
and being disposed to droll): I'll give you my hand
and word to come near your kennel no more; I was
never in such a confounded pickle since I was born.
Sirrah, replied the spider, if it were not for
breaking an old custom in our family, never to stir
abroad against an enemy, I should come and teach
you better manners.-I pray have patience, said the
bee, or you'll spend your substance, and, for aught I
see, you may stand in need of it all, toward the re-
pair of your house. Rogue, rogue, replied the
spider, yet methinks you should have more respect
to a person whom all the world allows to be so
much your betters.-By my troth, said the bee,
the comparison will amount to a very good jest;
and you will do me a favour to let me know the
reasons that all the world is pleased to use in so
hopeful a dispute. At this the spider, having swelled
himself into the size and posture of a disputant, be-
gan his argument in the true spirit of controversy,
with resolution to be heartily scurrilous and angry,
128
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
to urge on his own reasons, without the least regard
to the answers or objections of his opposite; and
fully predetermined in his mind against all conviction.
Not to disparage myself, said he, by the comparison
with such a rascal, what art thou but a vagabond
without house or home, without stock or inherit-
ance? born to no possession of your own, but a pair
of wings and a drone-pipe. Your livelihood is a
universal plunder upon nature; a freebooter over
fields and gardens; and, for the sake of stealing,
will rob a nettle as easily as a violet. Whereas I
am a domestic animal, furnished with a native stock
within myself. This large castle (to show my im-
provements in the mathematics) is all built with
my own hands, and the materials extracted alto-
gether out of my own person.
I am glad, answered the bee, to hear you grant at
least that I am come honestly by my wings and my
voice; for then, it seems, I am obliged to Heaven
alone for my flights and my music; and Providence
would never have bestowed on me two such gifts,
without designing them for the noblest ends. I visit
indeed all the flowers and blossoms of the field and
garden ; but whatever I collect thence enriches my-
self, without the least injury to their beauty, their
smell, or their taste. Now, for you and your skill
in architecture and other mathematics, I have little
to say in that building of yours there might, for
aught I know, have been labour and method
enough; but, by woful experience for us both, it is
too plain the materials are naught; and I hope you
will henceforth take warning, and consider duration
and matter, as well as method and art. You boast
indeed of being obliged to no other creature, but of
drawing and spinning out all from yourself; that is
to say, if we may judge of the liquor in the vessel
by what issues out, you possess a good plentiful
store of dirt and poison in your breast; and, though
I would by no means lessen or disparage your
genuine stock of either, yet I doubt you are some-
what obliged, for an increase of both, to a little
foreign assistance. Your inherent portion of dirt
does not fail of acquisitions, by sweepings exhaled
from below; and one insect furnishes you with a
share of poison to destroy another. So that, in
short, the question comes all to this; whether is the
nobler being of the two, that which, by a lazy con-
templation of four inches round, by an overweening
pride, feeding and engendering on itself, turns all
into excrement and venom, producing nothing at all
but flybane and a cobweb; or that which, by a
universal range, with long search, much study, true
judgment, and distinction of things, brings home
honey and wax.
This dispute was managed with such eagerness,
clamour, and warmth, that the two parties of books,
in arms below, stood silent a while, waiting in sus-
pense what would be the issue; which was not long
undetermined: for the bee, grown impatient at so
much loss of time, fled straight away to a bed of
roses, without looking for a reply, and left the
spider, like an orator, collected in himself, and just
prepared to burst out.
It happened upon this emergency that Æsop broke
silence first. He had been of late most barbarously
treated by a strange effect of the regent's humanity,
who had torn off his title-page, sorely defaced one
half of his leaves, and chained him fast among a
shelf of moderns. Where, soon discovering how
high the quarrel was likely to proceed, he tried all
his arts, and turned himself to a thousand forms.
At length, in the borrowed shape of an ass, the
regent mistook him for a modern; by which means
he had time and opportunity to escape to the ancients,
• Urged by those who contended for the excellence of modern
learning.
|
just when the spider and the bee were entering into
their contest; to which he gave his attention with a
world of pleasure, and, when it was ended, swore
in the loudest key that in all his life he had never
known two cases so parallel and adapt to each other
as that in the window and this upon the shelves.
The disputants, said he, have admirably managed
the dispute between them, have taken in the full
strength of all that is to be said on both sides, and
exhausted the substance of every argument pro and
con.
It is but to adjust the reasonings of both to
the present quarrel, then to compare and apply the
labours and fruits of each, as the bee has learnedly
deduced them, and we shall find the conclusion fall
plain and close upon the moderns and us.
For pray,
gentlemen, was ever anything so modern as the
spider in his air, his turns, and his paradoxes? he
argues in the behalf of you his brethren and him-
self with many boastings of his native stock and
great genius; that he spins and spits wholly from
himself, and scorns to own any obligation or assist-
ance from without. Then he displays to you his
great skill in architecture and improvement in the
mathematics. To all this the bee, as an advocate
retained by us the ancients, thinks fit to answer,
that, if one may judge of the great genius or inven-
tions of the moderns by what they have produced,
you will hardly have countenance to bear you out in
boasting of either. Erect your schemes with as
much method and skill as you please; yet, if the
materials be nothing but dirt, spun out of your own
entrails (the guts of modern brains), the edifice will
conclude at last in a cobweb; the duration of which,
like that of other spiders' webs, may be imputed to
their being forgotten, or neglected, or hid in a corner.
For anything else of genuine that the moderns may
pretend to, I cannot recollect; unless it be a large
vein of wrangling and satire, much of a nature and
substance with the spider's poison; which, however
they pretend to spit wholly out of themselves, is im-
proved by the same arts, by feeding upon the insects
and vermin of the age. As for us the ancients, we are
content, with the bee, to pretend to nothing of our
own beyond our wings and our voice: that is to say,
our flights and our language. For the rest, what-
ever we have got has been by infinite labour and
search, and ranging through every corner of nature;
the difference is, that, instead of dirt and poison, we
have rather chosen to fill our hives with honey and
wax; thus furnishing mankind with the two noblest
of things, which are sweetness and light.
It is wonderful to conceive the turnult arisen
among the books upon the close of this long descant
of Æsop: both parties took the hint, and heightened
their animosities so on a sudden, that they resolved
it should come to a battle. Immediately the two
main bodies withdrew, under their several ensigns,
to the farther parts of the library, and there entered
into cabals and consults upon the present emergency.
The moderns were in very warm debates upon the
choice of their leaders; and nothing less than the
fear impending from their enemies could have kept
them from mutinies upon this occasion. The differ-
ence was greatest among the horse, where every pri-
vate trooper pretended to the chief command, from
Tasso and Milton to Dryden and Withers. The light-
horsea were commanded by Cowley and Despreaux.b
There came the bowmene under their valiant leaders,
Des Cartes, Gassendi, and Hobbes; whose strength
was such that they could shoot their arrows beyond
the atmosphere, never to fall down again, but turn
like that of Evander, into meteors; or, like the
•
"The epic poets were full-armed horsemen; the lyrical bards
light-horse.
More commonly known by the name of Boileau.
The philosophers, whether physical or metaphysical.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
129
and consulting a few minutes, entered unseen, and
disposed the parties according to their orders.
Meanwhile Momus, fearing the worst, and calling
to mind an ancient prophecy which bore no very
good face to his children the moderns, bent his flight
to the region of a malignant deity called Criticism.
She dwelt on the top of a snowy mountain in Nova
Zembla; there Momus found her extended in her
den, upon the spoils of numberless volumes, half
devoured. At her right hand sat Ignorance, her
father and husband, blind with age; at her left,
Pride, her mother, dressing her up in the scraps
of paper herself had torn. There was Opinion,
her sister, light of foot, hood-winked, and head-
cannon-ball, into stars. Paracelsus brought a squa-
dron of stinkpot-flingers from the snowy mountains
of Rhætia. There came a vast body of dragoons, of
different nations, under the leading of Harvey,ª their
great aga: part armed with scythes, the weapons of
death; part with lances and long knives, all steeped
in poison; part shot bullets of a most malignant
nature, and used white powder, which infallibly
killed without report. There came several bodies of
heavy-armed foot, all mercenaries, under the ensigns
of Guicciardini, Davila, Polydore Virgil, Buchanan,
Mariana, Camden, and others. The engineers were
commanded by Regiomontanus and Wilkins. The rest
was a confused multitude, led by Scotus, Aquinas,
and Bellarmine; of mighty bulk and stature, but with-strong, yet giddy and perpetually turning. About
out either arms, courage, or discipline. In the last
place came infinite swarms of calones," a disorderly
rout led by L'Estrange; rogues and ragamuffins,
that follow the camp for nothing but the plunder, all
without coats to cover them.
her played her children, Noise and Impudence,
Dulness and Vanity, Positiveness, Pedantry, and
Ill-manners. The goddess herself had claws like a
cat; her head, and ears, and voice, resembled those
of an ass; her teeth fallen out before, her eyes
turned inward, as if she looked only upon herself;
The army of the ancients was much fewer in
number; Homer led the horse, and Pinder the light-her diet was the overflowing of her own gall; her
horse; Euclid was chief engineer; Plato and Aris-
totle commanded the bowmen; Herodotus and Livy
the foot; Hippocrates the dragoons; the allies, led
by Vossius and Temple, brought up the rear.
All things violently tending to a decisive battle,
Fame, who much frequented, and had a large apart-
ment formerly assigned her in the regal library, fled
up straight to Jupiter, to whom she delivered a faith-
ful account of all that passed between the two parties
below; for among the gods she always tells truth.
Jove, in great concern, convokes a council in the
milky way. The senate assembled, he declares the
occasion of convening them; a bloody battle just
impendent between two mighty armies of ancient
and modern creatures, called books, wherein the
celestial interest was but too deeply concerned.
Momus, the patron of the moderns, made an excel-
lent speech in their favour, which was answered by
Pallas, the protectress of the ancients. The assem-
bly was divided in their affections; when Jupiter
commanded the book of fate to be laid before him.
Immediately were brought by Mercury three large
volumes in folio, containing memoirs of all things
past, present, and to come. The clasps were of silver
double gilt, the covers of celestial turkey leather,
and the paper such as here on earth might pass almost
for vellum. Jupiter, having silently read the decree,
would communicate the import to none, but presently
shut up the book.
Without the doors of this assembly there attended
a vast number of light, nimble gods, menial servants
to Jupiter: these are his ministering instruments in
all affairs below. They travel in a caravan, more or
less together, and are fastened to each other, like a
link of galley-slaves, by a light chain, which passes
from them to Jupiter's great toe and yet, in re-
ceiving or delivering a message, they may never
approach above the lowest step of his throne, where
he and they whisper to each other through a large
hollow trunk.
trunk. These deities are called by mortal
men accidents or events; but the gods call them
second causes. Jupiter having delivered his message
to a certain number of these divinities, they flew
immediately down to the pinnacle of the regal library,
n
Harvey, who discovered the circulation of the blood, a
discovery much insisted on by the advocates for the moderns,
and excepted against as doubtful or erroneous by sir W. Temple.
b Calones. By calling this disorderly rout calones, the
author points both his satire and contempt againt all sorts of
mercenary scribblers. Sir Roger L'Estrange was distinguished
by his activity in this dirty warfare in the reigns of Charles
II. and James.
spleen was so large as to stand prominent, like a
dug of the first rate; nor wanted excrescencies in
form of teats, at which a crew of ugly monsters were
greedily sucking; and, what is wonderful to con-
ceive, the bulk of spleen increased faster than the
sucking could diminish it. Goddess, said Momus,
can you sit idly here while our devout worshippers,
the moderns, are this minute entering into a cruel
battle, and perhaps now lying under the swords of
their enemies? who then hereafter will ever sacrifice
or build altars to our divinities? Haste, therefore,
to the British isle, and, if possible, prevent their
destruction; while I make factions among the gods,
and gain them over to our party.
Momus, having thus delivered himself, staid not
for an answer, but left the goddess to her own re-
sentment. Up she rose in a rage, and, as it is the
form upon such occasions, began a soliloquy: It is I
(said she) who give wisdom to infants and idiots;
by me children grow wiser than their parents,
by me beaux become politicians, and schoolboys
judges of philosophy; by me sophisters debate and
conclude upon the depths of knowledge; and
coffeehouse wits, instinct by me, can correct an
author's style, and display his minutest errors, with-
out understanding a syllable of his matter or his
language; by me striplings spend their judgment,
as they do their estate, before it comes into their
hands. It is I who have deposed wit and knowledge
from their empire over poetry, and advanced myself
in their stead. And shall a few upstart ancients
dare to oppose me?-But come, my aged parent, and
you, my children dear, and thou, my beauteous
sister; let us ascend my chariot, and haste to assist
our devout moderns, who are now sacrificing to us
a hecatomb, as I perceive by that grateful smell
which from thence reaches my nostrils.
The goddess and her train, having mounted the
chariot, which was drawn by tame geese, flew over
infinite regions, shedding her influence in due places,
till at length she arrived at her beloved island of
Britain; but in hovering over its metropolis, what
blessings did she not let fall upon her seminaries of
Gresham and Covent-garden! And now she reached
the fatal plain of St. James's library, at what time
the two armies were upon the point to engage;
where, entering with all her caravan unseen, and
landing upon a case of shelves, now desert, but once
inhabited by a colony of virtuosoes, she staid a while
to observe the posture of both armies.
But here the tender cares of a mother began to fill
These are pamphlets, which are not bound or covered.
On account of the superiority claimed for them in works of her thoughts and move in her breast: for at the head
of a troop of modern bowmen she cast her eyes upon
humour.
VOL. I.
K
· 130
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
her son Wotton, to whom the fates had assigned a
very short thread. Wotton, a young hero, whom an
unknown father of mortal race begot by stolen em-
braces with this goddess. He was the darling of
his mother above all her children, and she resolved
to go and comfort him. But first, according to the
good old custom of deities, she cast about to change
her shape, for fear the divinity of her countenance
might dazzle his mortal sight and overcharge the rest
of his senses. She therefore gathered up her person
into an octavo compass: her body grew white and
arid, and split in pieces with dryness; the thick
turned into pasteboard, and the thin into paper;
upon which her parents and children artfully strewed
a black juice, or decoction of gall and soot, in form
of letters: her head, and voice, and spleen, kept
their primitive form; and that which before was a
cover of skin did still continue so. In this guise
she marched on towards the moderns, undistinguish-
able in shape and dress from the divine Bentley,
Wotton's dearest friend. Brave Wotton, said the
goddess, why do our trops stand idle here, to spend
their present vigour and opportunity of the day?
away, let us haste to the generals, and advise to give
the onset immediately. Having spoke thus, she
took the ugliest of her monsters, full glutted from her
spleen, and flung it invisibly into his mouth, which,
flying straight up into his head, squeezed out his
eye-balls, gave him a distorted look, and half over-
turned his brain. Then she privately ordered two
of her beloved children, Dulness and Ill-manners,
closely to attend his person in all encounters.
Having thus accoutred him, she vanished in a
mist, and the hero perceived it was the goddess his
mother.
The destined hour of fate being now arrived, the
fight began; whereof, before I dare adventure to
make a particular description, I must, after the
example of other authors, petition for a hundred
tongues, and mouths, and hands, and pens, which
would all be too little to perform so immense a
work. Say, goddess, that presidest over history,
who it was that first advanced in the field of battle!
Paracelsus, at the head of his dragoons, observing
Galen in the adverse wing, darted his javelin with a
mighty force, which the brave ancient received upon
his shield, the point breaking in the second fold.
*
*
*
ik
*
Hic pauca
desunt.
They bore the wounded agaª on their shields to his
chariot
Desunt
nonnulla.
*
*
Then Aristotle, observing Bacon advance with a
furious mien, drew his bow to the head, and let fly
his arrow, which missed the valiant modern and
went whizzing over his head; but Des Cartes it hit;
the steel point quickly found a defect in his head-
piece; it pierced the leather and the pasteboard,
and went in at his right eye. The torture of the
pain whirled the valiant bow-man round till death,
like a star of superior influence, drew him into his
own vortex.
Ingens hiatus
hic in MS.
*
* when Homer appeared at the head
of the cavalry, mounted on a furious horse, with
difficulty managed by the rider himself, but which
no other mortal durst approach; he rode among the
enemy's ranks, and bore down all before him. Say,
goddess, whom he slew first and whom he slew last!
Doctor Harvey, It was not thought proper to name his
antagonist, but only to intimate that he was wounded: other
moderns are spared by the hiatus that follows
First, Gondiberta advanced against him, clad in
heavy armour and mounted on a staid sober gelding,
not so famed for his speed as his docility in kneeling
whenever his rider would mount or alight. He had
made a vow to Pallas that he would never leave the
field till he had spoiled Homer of his armour: mad-
man, who had never once seen the wearer, nor un-
derstood his strength! Him Homer overthrew,
horse and man, to the ground, there to be trampled
and choked in the dirt. Then with a long spear
he slew Denham, a stout modern, who from his
father's side derived his lineage from Apollo, but his
mother was of mortal race. He fell, and bit the
earth. The celestial part Apollo took, and made it
a star; but the terrestrial lay wallowing upon the
ground. Then Homer slew Sam Wesley with a kick
of his horse's heel; he took Perrault by mighty force
out of his saddle, then hurled him at Fontenelle,
with the same blow dashing out both their brains.
On the left wing of the horse Virgil appeared, in
shining armour, completely fitted to his body: he
was mounted on a dapple-gray steed, the slowness
of whose pace was an effect of the highest mettle and
vigour. He cast his eye on the adverse wing, with
a desire to find an object worthy of his valour, when
behold upon a sorrel gelding of a monstrous size ap-
peared a foe, issuing from among the thickest of the
enemy's squadrons; but his speed was less than his
noise; for his horse, old and lean, spent the dregs of
his strength in a high trot, which, though it made
slow advances, yet caused a loud clashing of his
armour terrible to hear. The two cavaliers had
now approached within the throw of a lance, when
the stranger desired a parley, and, lifting up the
vizor of his helmet, a face hardly appeared from
within which, after a pause, was known for that of
the renowned Dryden. The brave ancient suddenly
started, as one possessed with surprise and disap-
pointment together; for the helmet was nine times
too large for the head, which appeared situate far in
the hinder part, even like the lady in a lobster, or
like a mouse under a canopy of state, or like a
shrivelled beau from within the penthouse of a
modern periwig; and the voice was suited to the
visage, sounding weak and remote. Dryden, in a
long harangue, soothed up the good ancient; called
him father, and, by a large deduction of genealogies,
made it plainly appear that they were nearly related."
Then he humbly proposed an exchange of armour,
as a lasting mark of hospitality between them. Virgil
consented (for the goddess Diffidence came unseen,
and cast a mist before his eyes), though his was of
gold and cost a hundred beeves, the other's but of
rusty iron. However, this glittering armour became
the modern yet worse than his own. Then they
agreed to exchange horses; but, when it came to
the trial, Dryden was afraid and utterly unable to
mount.
Alter hiatus
in MS.
Lucan appeared upon a fiery horse of admirable
shape, but headstrong, bearing the rider where he
list over the field; he made a mighty slaughter
among the enemy's horse; which destruction to stop,
Blackmore, a famous modern (but one of the mer-
cenaries), strenuously opposed himself, and darted
his javelin with a strong hand, which, falling short
of its mark, struck deep in the earth. Then Lucan
threw a lance; but Esculapius came unseen and
turned off the point. Brave modern, said Lucan, I
perceive some god protects you, for never did my arm
so deceive me before: but what mortal can contend
An heroic poem by Sir W. Davenant in stanzas of four lines.
Alluding to the Preliminary Dissertations in Dryden's Virgil,
Ilis skill as a physician atoned for his dulness as a poet.
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
131
with a god? Therefore, let us fight no longer, but
present gifts to each other. Lucan then bestowed
the modern a pair of spurs, and Blackmore gave
Lucan a bridle.
Pauca desunt.
****
#
*
*
*
%%%
*
**
*
**
*
*
*
*
*
*
**
Creech: but the goddess Dulness took a cloud,
formed into the shape of Horace, armed and mounted,
and placed in a flying posture before him. Glad
was the cavalier to begin a combat with a flying foe,
and pursued the image, threatening aloud; till at last
it led him to the peaceful bower of his father, Ogleby,
by whom he was disarmed and assigned to his repose.
Then Pindar slew
and and Oldham,
and, and Afraª the Amazon, light of foot; never
advancing in a direct line, but wheeling with incre-
dible agility and force, he made a terrible slaughter
among the enemy's light horse. Him when Cowley
Him when Cowley
observed, his generous heart burnt within him, and
he advanced against the fierce ancient, imitating his
address, his pace, and career, as well as the vigour
of his horse and his own skill would allow. When
the two cavaliers had approached within the length
of three javelins, first Cowley threw a lance, which
missed Pindar, and, passing into the enemy's ranks,
fell ineffectual to the ground. Then Pindar darted
a javelin so large and weighty, that scarce a dozen
cavaliers, as cavaliers are in our degenerate days,
could raise it from the ground; yet he threw it with
ease, and it went, by an unerring hand, singing
through the air; nor could the modern have avoided
present death if he had not luckily opposed the
shield that had been given him by Venus. And
now both heroes drew their swords; but the modern
was so aghast and disordered that he knew not
where he was; his shield dropped from his hands;
thrice he fled, and thrice he could not escape; at
last he turned, and lifting up his hand in the posture
of a suppliant, Godlike Pindar, said he, spare my
life, and possess my horse, with these arms, beside
the ransom which my friends will give when they
hear I am alive and your prisoner. Dog! said
Pindar, let your ransom stay with your friends; but
your carcase shall be left for the fowls of the air and
the beasts of the field. With that he raised his
sword, and, with a mighty stroke, cleft the wretched
modern in twain, the sword pursuing the blow; and
one half lay panting on the ground, to be trod in
pieces by the horses' feet; the other half was borne
by the frighted steed through the field. This Venus
took, washed it seven times in ambrosia, then struck
it thrice with a sprig of amaranth; upon which the
leather grew round and soft, and the leaves turned
into feathers, and, being gilded before, continued
gilded still; so it became a dove, and she harnessed
it to her chariot.
*
*
Hiatus valde de-
flendus in MS.
THE EPISODE OF BENTLEY AND WOTTON.
Day being far spent, and the numerous forces of
the moderns half inclining to a retreat, there issued
forth from a squadron of their heavy-armed foot a
captain whose name was Bentley, the most deformed
of all the moderns; tall, but without shape or come-
liness; large, but without strength or proportion.
His armour was patched up of a thousand incobe-
rent pieces; and the sound of it, as he marched,
was loud and dry, like that made by the fall of a
sheet of lead, which an Etesian wind blows sud-
denly down from the roof of some steeple. His
helmet was of old rusty iron, but the vizor was
brass, which, tainted by his breath, corrupted into
copperas, nor wanted gall from the same fountain;
• Mrs. Afra Behn. b His poem called "The Mistress.”
so that, whenever provoked by anger or labour, an
atramentous quality, of most malignant nature,
was seen to distil from his lips. In his right hand
he grasped a flail, and (that he might never be un-
provided of an offensive weapon) a vessel full of
ordure in his left. Thus completely
Thus completely armed, he
advanced with a slow and heavy pace where the
modern chiefs were holding a consult upon the sum of
things; who, as he came onwards, laughed to behold
his crooked leg and humped shoulder, which his boot
and armour, vainly endeavouring to hide, were forced
to comply with and
to comply with and expose. The generals made use
of him for his talent of railing; which, kept within
government, proved frequently of great service to
their cause, but, at other times, did more mischief than
good; for, at the least touch of offence, and often with-
out any at all, he would, like a wounded elephant,
convert it against his leaders. Such, at this juncture,
was the disposition of Bentley; grieved to see the
enemy prevail, and dissatisfied with everybody's
conduct but his own. He humbly gave the modern
generals to understand that he conceived, with great
submission, they were all a pack of rogues, and
fools, and sons of whores, and d-d cowards, and
confounded loggerheads, and illiterate whelps, and
nonsensical scoundrels; that, if himself had been
constituted general, those presumptuous dogs, the
ancients, would long before this have been beaten
out of the field. You, said he, sit here idle; but
when I, or any other valiant modern, kill an enemy,
you are sure to seize the spoil. But I will not
march one foot against the foe till you all swear to
me that whomever I take or kill, his arms I shall
quietly possess. Bentley having spoken thus,
Scaliger, bestowing him a sour look, Miscreant
prater! said he, eloquent only in thine own eyes,
thou railest without wit, or truth, or discretion.
The malignity of thy temper perverteth nature; thy
learning makes thee more barbarous; thy study of
humanity more inhuman; thy converse among poets,
more grovelling, miry, and dull. All arts of civil-
izing others render thee rude and untractable; courts
have taught thee ill manners, and polite conversation
has finished thee a pedant. Besides, a greater cow-
ard burdeneth not the army. But never despond;
I pass my word, whatever spoil thou takest shall
certainly be thy own; though I hope that vile carcase
will first become a prey to kites and worms.
sun.
Bentley durst not reply; but, half choked with
spleen and rage, withdrew, in full resolution of per-
forming some great achievement. With him, for
his aid and companion, he took his beloved Wotton;
resolving by policy or surprise to attempt some
neglected quarter of the ancient's army. They
began their march over carcases of their slaughtered
friends; then to the right of their own forces; then
wheeled northward, till they came to Aldrovandus's
tomb, which they passed on the side of the declining
And now they arrived, with fear, toward the
enemy's out-guards; looking about, if haply they
might spy the quarters of the wounded, or some
straggling sleepers, unarmed and remote from the
rest. As when two mongrel curs, whom native
greediness and domestic want provoke and join in
folds of some rich grazier, they, with tails depressed
partnership, though fearful, nightly to invade the
the conscious moon, now in her zenith, on their
and lolling tongues, creep soft and slow; meanwhile
bark, though much provoked at her refulgent visage,
guilty heads darts perpendicular rays; nor dare they
whether seen in puddle by reflection or in sphere
direct; but one surveys the region round, while the
other scouts the plain, if haply to discover, at dis-
The person here spoken of is famous for letting fly at
everybody.
K 2
132
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
So
tance from the flock, some carcase half devoured,
the refuse of gorged wolves or ominous ravens.
marched this lovely, loving pair of friends, nor with
less fear and circumspection, when at a distance
they might perceive two shining suits of armour
hanging upon an oak, and the owners not far off in
a profound sleep. The two friends drew lots, and
the pursuing of this adventure fell to Bentley; on he
went, and in his van Confusion and Amaze, while
Horror and Affright brought up the rear. As he
came near, behold two heroes of the ancient's army,
Phalaris and Æsop, lay fast asleep; Bentley would
fain have despatched them both, and, stealing close,
aimed his flail at Phalaris's breast. But then the
goddess Affright, interposing, caught the modern in
her icy arms, and dragged him from the danger she
foresaw; both the dormant heroes happened to turn
at the same instant, though soundly sleeping, and
busy in a dream. For Pharlarisa was just that
minute dreaming how a most vile poetaster had
lampooned him, and how he had got him roaring in
his bull. And Æsop dreamed that, as he and the
ancient chiefs were lying on the ground, a wild ass
broke loose, ran about, trampling and kicking and
dunging in their faces. Bentley, leaving the two
heroes asleep, seized on both their armours, and
withdrew in quest of his darling Wotton.
He, in the mean time, had wandered long in search
of some enterprise, till at length he arrived at a
small rivulet that issued from a fountain hard by,
called, in the language of mortal men, Helicon.
Here he stopped, and, parched with thirst, resolved
to allay it in this limpid stream. Thrice with pro-
fanc hands he essayed to raise the water to his lips,
and thrice it slipped all through his fingers. Then
he stooped prone on his breast, but, ere his mouth
had kissed the liquid crystal, Apollo came, and in
the channel held his shield betwixt the modern and
the fountain, so that he drew up nothing but mud.
For, although no fountain on earth can compare
with the clearness of Helicon, yet there lies at bot-
tom a thick sediment of slime and mud; for so
Apollo begged of Jupiter, as a punishment to those
who durst attempt to taste it with unhallowed lips,
and for a lesson to all not to draw too deep or far
from the spring.
At the fountain-head Wotton discerned two he-
rocs; the one he could not distinguish, but the
other was soon known for Temple, general of the
allies to the ancients. His back was turned, and
he was employed in drinking large draughts in his
helmet from the fountain, where he had withdrawn
himself to rest from the toils of the war. Wotton,
observing him, with quaking knees and trembling
hands, spoke thus to himself: O that I could kill this
destroyer of our army, what renown should I pur-
chase among the chiefs! but to issue out against
him, man against man, shield against shield, and
lance against lance, what modern of us dare? for he
fights like a god, and Pallas or Apollo are ever at
his elbow. But, O mother! if what Fame reports be
truc, that I am the son of so great a goddess, grant
me to hit Temple with this lance, that the stroke
may send him to hell, and that I may return in
safety and triumph, laden with his spoils. The first
part of this prayer the gods granted at the interces-
sion of his mother and of Momus; but the rest, by
a perverse wind sent from Fate, was scattered in
the air. Then Wotton grasped his lance, and,
brandishing it thrice over his head, darted it with
all his might; the goddess, his mother, at the same
time adding strength to his arm. Away the lance
went hizzing, and reached even to the belt of the
According to Homer, who tells the dreams of those who were
killed in their sleep.
averted ancient, upon which lightly grazing, it fell
to the ground. Temple neither felt the weapon touch
him nor heard it fall: and Wotton might have es-
caped to his army, with the honour of having re-
mitted his lance against so great a leader unrevenged;
but Apollo, enraged that a javelin flung by the as-
sistance of so foul a goddess should pollute his
fountain, put on the shape of, and softly
came to young Boyle, who then accompanied Tem-
ple: he pointed first to the lance, then to the dis-
tant modern that flung it, and commanded the young
hero to take immediate revenge. Boyle, clad in a
suit of armour which had been given him by all the
gods," immediately advanced against the trembling
foe, who now fled before him. As a young lion in
the Libyan plains, or Araby desert, sent by his aged
sire to hunt for prey, or health, or exercise, he scours
along, wishing to meet some tiger from the moun-
tains, or a furious boar; if chance a wild ass, with
brayings importune, affronts his ear, the generous
beast, though loathing to distain his claws with
blood so vile, yet, much provoked at the offensive
noise, which Echo, foolish nymph, like her ill-judg-
ing sex, repeats much louder, and with more delight
than Philomela's song, he vindicates the honour of
the forest, and hunts the noisy long-eared animal.
So Wotton fled, so Boyle pursued. But Wotton,
heavy-armed and slow of foot, began to slack his
course, when his lover Bentley appeared, returning
laden with the spoils of the two sleeping ancients.
Boyle observed him well, and soon discovering the
helmet and shield of Phalaris his friend, both which
he had lately with his own hands new polished and
gilt, rage sparkled in his eyes, and, leaving his
pursuit after Wotton, he furiously rushed on against
this new approacher. Fain would he be revenged
on both; but both now fled different ways: and, as
a woman in a little house that gets a painful liveli-
hood by spinning, if chance her geese be scattered
o'er the common, she courses round the plain from
side to side, compelling here and there the stragglers
to the flock; they cackle loud, and flutter o'er the
champaign; so Boyle pursued, so fled this pair of
friends: finding at length their flight was vain, they
bravely joined, and drew themselves in phalanx.
First Bentley threw a spear with all his force, hoping
to pierce the enemy's breast; but Pallas came un-
seen, and in the air took off the point, and clapped
on one of lead, which, after a dead bang against the
enemy's shield, fell blunted to the ground. Then
Boyle, observing well his time, took up a lance of
wondrous length and sharpness; and, as this pair of
friends compacted, stood close side to side, he
wheeled him to the right, and, with unusual force,
darted the weapon. Bentley saw his fate approach,
and flanking down his arms close to his ribs, hoping
to save his body, in went the point, passing through
arm and side, nor stopped or spent its force till it
had also pierced the valiant Wotton, who, going to
sustain his dying friend, shared his fate. As when
a skilful cook has trussed a brace of woodcocks, he
with iron skewer pierces the tender sides of both,
their legs and wings close pinioned to the ribs; so
was this pair of friends transfixed, till down they
fell, joined in their lives, joined in their deaths; so
closely joined that Charon would mistake them both
for one, and waft them over Styx for half his fare.
Farewell, beloved, loving pair; few equals have you
left behind and happy and immortal shall you be,
if all my wit and eloquence can make you.
And now
*
Desunt cætera.
Boyle was assisted in this dispute by dean Aldrich, Dr.
Atterbury, afterwards bishop of Rochester, and other persons
at Oxford.
133
A DISCOURSE
CONCERNING THE
MECHANICAL OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
IN A LETTER TO A FRIEND. A. FRAGMENT.
THE BOOKSELLER'S ADVERTISEMENT.
THE following Discourse came into my hands per-
fect and entire; but there being several things in it
which the present age would not very well bear, I
kept it by me some years, resolving it should never
see the light. At length, by the advice and assist-
ance of a judicious friend, I retrenched those parts
that might give most offence, and have now ventured
to publish the remainder. Concerning the author I
am wholly ignorant; neither can I conjecture whe-
ther it be the same with that of the two foregoing
pieces, the original having been sent me at a different
time, and in a different hand. The learned reader
will better determine, to whose judgment I entirely
submit it.
A DISCOURSE, ETC.
શ
For T. H. Esquire, at his chambers in the Academy of the
Beaux Esprits, in New England.
SIR, It is now a good while since I have had in my
head something, not only very material, but abso-
lutely necessary to my health, that the world should
be informed in; for, to tell you a secret, I am able
to contain it no longer. However, I have been per-
plexed for some time to resolve what would be the
most proper form to send it abroad in. To which
end I have been three days coursing through West-
minster-hall, and St. Paul's churchyard, and Fleet-
street, to peruse titles; and I do not find any which
holds so general a vogue as that of a Letter to a
Friend: nothing is more common than to meet with
long epistles addressed to persons and places where,
at first thinking, one would be apt to imagine it not
altogether so necessary or convenient; such as, a
neighbour at next door, a mortal enemy, a perfect
stranger, or a person of quality in the clouds; and
these upon subjects, in appearance, the least proper
for conveyance by the post; as long schemes in phi-
losophy, dark and wonderful mysteries of state, la-
borious dissertations in criticism and philosophy,
advice to parliaments, and the like.
Now, sir, to proceed after the method in present
wear; for, let me say what I will to the contrary, I
am afraid you will publish this letter as soon as ever
it comes to your hand. I desire
I desire you will be my
witness to the world how careless and sudden a
scribble it has been; that it was but yesterday when
you and I began accidentally to fall into discourse
on this matter; that I was not very well when we
parted; that the post is in such haste I have had no
manner of time to digest it into order or correct the
style; and if any other modern excuses for haste
and negligence shall occur to you in reading, I beg
you to insert them, faithfully promising they shall
be thankfully acknowledged.
Pray, sir, in your next letter to the Iroquois vir-
tuosi, do me the favour to present my humble ser-
vice to that illustrious body, and assure them I shall
send an account of those phenomena as soon as we
can determine them at Gresham.
I have not had a line from the literati of Topin-
ambou these three last ordinaries.
а
Supposed to be col. Hunter. This Discourse is not alto-
gether equal to the former, the best parts of it being omitted.
|
And now, sir, having despatched what I had to
say of form or of business, let me entreat you will
suffer me to proceed upon my subject, and to pardon
me if I make no farther use of the epistolary style
till I come to conclude.
SECTION THE FIRST.
Ir is recorded of Mahomet that, upon a visit he was
going to pay in Paradise, he had an offer of several
vehicles to conduct him upwards; as fiery chariots,
winged horses, and celestial sedans; but he refused
them all, and would be borne to heaven upon no-
thing but his ass. Now this inclination of Ma-
homet, as singular as it seems, has been since taken
up by a great number of devout christians, and
doubtless with very good reason. For, since that
Arabian is known to have borrowed a moiety of his
religious system from the christian faith, it is but
just he should pay reprisals to such as would chal-
lenge them; wherein the good people of England,
to do them all right, have not been backward; for,
though there is not any other nation in the world so
plentifully provided with carriages for that journey,
either as to safety or ease, yet there are abundance
of us who will not be satisfied with any other ma-
chine beside this of Mahomet.
For my own part, I must confess to bear a very
singular respect to this animal, by whom I take
human nature to be most admirably held forth in
all its qualities, as well as operations; and therefore,
whatever in my small reading occurs concerning
this our fellow-creature, I do never fail to set it
down by way of commonplace; and when I have
occasion to write upon human reason, politics, elo-
quence, or knowledge, I lay my memorandums be-
fore me, and insert them with a wonderful facility
of application. However, among all the qualifica-
tions ascribed to this distinguished brute, by an-
cient or modern authors, I cannot remember this
talent of bearing his rider to heaven has been re-
corded for a part of his character, except in the two
examples mentioned already; therefore I conceive
the methods of this art to be a point of useful know-
ledge in very few hands, and which the learned
world would gladly be better informed in: this is
what I have undertaken to perform in the following
discourse. For towards the operation already men-
tioned many peculiar properties are required both in
the rider and the ass, which I shall endeavour to set
in as clear a light as I can.
There-
But, because I am resolved, by all means, to avoid
giving offence to any party whatever, I will leave
off discoursing so closely to the letter as I have
hitherto done, and go on for the future by way of
allegory; though in such a manner that the judi-
cious reader may, without much straining, make his
applications as often as he shall think fit.
fore, if you please, from henceforward, instead of the
term ass, we shall make use of gifted or enlightened
teacher; and the word rider we will exchange for
that of fanatic auditory, or any other denomination
of the like import. Having settled this weighty
point, the great subject of inquiry before us is to
examine by what methods this teacher arrives at his
gifts, or spirit, or light; and by what intercourse be-
134
A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL
tween him and his assembly it is cultivated and sup-
ported.
In all my writings I have had constant regard to
this great end, not to suit and apply them to par-
ticular occasions and circunstances of time, of place,
or of person, but to calculate them for universal
nature and mankind in general. And of such
catholic use I estcem this present disquisition; for
I do not remember any other temper of body, or
quality of mind, wherein all nations and ages of the
world have so unanimously agreed as that of a fa-
natic strain or tincture of enthusiasm; which, im-
proved by certain persons or societies of men, and
by them practised upon the rest, has been able to
produce revolutions of the greatest figure in history,
as will soon appear to those who know anything of
Arabia, Persia, India, or China, of Morocco and
Peru. Farther, it has possessed as great a power in
the kingdom of knowledge, where it is hard to
assign one art or science which has not annexed to
it some fanatic branch; such are, the philosopher's
stone, the grand elixir, the planetary worlds, the
squaring of the circle, the summum bonum, Utopian
commonwealths, with some others of less or subor-
dinate note, which all serve for nothing else but to
employ or amuse this grain of enthusiasm dealt into
every composition.
matter.
But if this plant has found a root in the fields of
empire and of knowledge, it has fixed deeper and
spread yet farther upon holy ground; wherein,
though it has passed under the general name of en-
thusiasm, and perhaps arisen from the same original,
yet has it produced certain branches of a very differ-
ent nature, however often mistaken for each other.
The word, in its universal acceptation, may be de-
fined, a lifting up of the soul, or its faculties, above
This description will hold good in general,
but I am only to understand it as applied to religion ;
wherein there are three general ways of ejaculating
the soul, or transporting it beyond the sphere of
matter. The first is the immediate act of God, and
is called prophecy or inspiration. The second is
the immediate act of the devil, and is termed pos-
session. The third is the product of natural causes,
the effect of strong imagination, spleen, violent
anger, fear, grief, pain, and the like. These three
have been abundantly treated on by authors, and
therefore shall not employ my inquiry. But the
fourth method of religious enthusiasm, or launching
out of the soul, as it is purely an effect of artifice
and mechanic operation, has been sparingly handled,
or not at all, by any writer; because, though it is
an art of great antiquity, yet, having been confined
to few persons, it long wanted those advancements
and refinements which it afterwards met with, since
it has grown so epidemic, and fallen into so many
cultivating hands.
It is therefore upon this mechanical operation of
the spirit that I mean to treat, as it is at present
performed by our British workmen. I shall deliver
to the reader the result of many judicious observa-
tions upon the matter; tracing, as near as I can, the
whole course and method of this trade, producing
parallel instances and relating certain discoveries
that have luckily fallen in my way.
I have said that there is one branch of religious
enthusiasm which is purely an effect of nature;
whereas the part I mean to handle is wholly an
effect of art, which however is inclined to work
upon certain natures and constitutions more than
others. Besides, there is many an operation which
in its original was purely an artifice, but through a
long succession of ages has grown to be natural.
Hippocrates tells us that among our ancestors the
• Somo writers hold them for the same, others not.
Scythians there was a nation called Long-heads,
which at first began by a custom among midwives
and nurses of moulding, and squeezing, and bracing
up the heads of infants; by which means nature,
shut out at one passage, was forced to seek another,
and, finding room above, shot upwards in the form
of a sugar-loaf; and, being diverted that way for
some generations, at last found it out of herself,
needing no assistance from the nurse's hand. This
was the original of the Scythian Long-heads, and
thus did custom, from being a second nature, pro-
ceed to be a first. To all which there is something
very analogous among us of this nation, who are
the undoubted posterity of that refined people.
For in the age of our fathers there arose a genera-
tion of men in this island called Round-heads,ª
whose race is now spread over three kingdoms;
yet in its beginning was merely an operation of art
produced by a pair of scissors, a squeeze of the face,
and a black cap.
These heads, thus formed into a
perfect sphere in all assemblies, were most exposed
to the view of the female sort, which did influence
their conceptions so effectually, that nature at last
took the hint and did it of herself; so that a round-
head has been ever since as familiar a sight among
us as a long-head among the Scythians.
Upon these examples, and others easy to produce,
I desire the curious reader to distinguish, first, be-
tween an effect grown from art into nature, and one
that is natural from its beginning: secondly, be-
tween an effect wholly natural, and one which has
only a natural foundation, but where the superstruc-
ture is entirely artificial. For the first and the last
of these I understand to come within the districts of
my subject. And having obtained these allowances,
they will serve to remove any objections that may
be raised hereafter against what I shall advance.
The practitioners of this famous art proceed, in
general, upon the following fundamental: that the
corruption of the senses is the generation of the
spirit; because the senses in men are so many ave-
nues to the fort of reason, which in this operation is
wholly blocked up. All endeavours must be there-
fore used, either to divert, bind up, stupify, fluster,
and amuse the senses, or else to justle them out of
their stations; and, while they are either absent or
otherwise employed, or engaged in a civil war
against each other, the spirit enters and performs
its part.
Now, the usual methods of managing the senses
upon such conjunctures are, what I shall be very
particular in delivering, as far as it is lawful for me
to do; but, having had the honour to be initiated
into the mysteries of every society, I desire to be
excused from divulging any rites wherein the pro-
fane must have no part.
But here, before I can proceed farther, a very
dangerous objection must if possible be removed.
For it is positively denied by certain critics that the
spirit can, by any means, be introduced into an
assembly of modern saints; the disparity being so
great in many material circumstances between the
primitive way of inspiration and that which is prac-
tised in the present age. This they pretend to prove
from the second chapter of the Acts, where, com-
paring both, it appears, first, That the apostles were
gathered together with one accord, in one place; by
which is meant a universal agreement in opinion and
form of worship; a harmony, say they, so far from
The fanatics in the time of Charles I., ignorantly applying
the text, "Ye know that it is a shame for men to have long
hair," cut theirs very short. It is said that the queen, once
seeing Pym, a celebrated patriot, thus cropped, inquired who
distinction became general, and the party were called round-
that round-headed man was? and that from this incident the
heads.
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
135
being found between any two conventicles among us,
that it is in vain to expect it between any two heads
in the same. Secondly, The spirit instructed the
apostles in the gift of speaking several languages;
a knowledge so remote from our dealers in this art,
that they neither understand propriety of words or
phrases in their own. Lastly, say these objectors,
the modern artists do utterly exclude all approaches
of the spirit, and bar up its ancient way of entering,
by covering themselves so close and so industriously
a-top: for they will needs have it as a point clearly
gained, that the cloven tongues never sat upon the
apostles' heads while their hats were on.
Now, the force of these objections seems to con-
sist in the different acceptation of the word spirit;
which, if it be understood for a supernatural assist-
ance approaching from without, the objectors have
reason, and their assertions may be allowed; but
the spirit we treat of here proceeding entirely from
within, the argument of these adversaries is wholly
eluded. And upon the same account, our modern
artificers find it an expedient of absolute necessity
to cover their heads as close as they can in order to
prevent perspiration, than which nothing is ob-
served to be a greater spender of mechanic light, as
we may perhaps further show in a convenient place.
To proceed therefore upon the phenomenon of
spiritual mechanism, it is here to be noted that in
forming and working up the spirit the assembly
has a considerable share as well as the preacher.
The method of this arcanum is as follows: they
violently strain their eyeballs inward, half closing
the lids; then, as they sit, they are in a perpetual
motion of see-saw, making long hums at proper
periods, and continuing the sound at equal height,
choosing their time in those intermissions while the
preacher is at ebb. Neither is this practice in any
part of it so singular and improbable as not to be
traced in distant regions from reading and observa-
tion. For, first, the Jauguis [Bernier, Mem. de
Mogol.], or enlightened saints of India, see all their
visions by help of an acquired straining and pressure
of the eyes. Secondly, the art of see-saw on a
beam, and swinging by session upon a cord, in order
to raise artificial ecstasies, has been derived to us
from our Scythian [Guagnini Hist. Sarmat.] ances-
tors, where it is practised at this day among the
women. Lastly, the whole proceeding, as I have
here related it, is performed by the natives of Ire-
land with a considerable improvement; and it is
granted that this noble nation has, of all others, ad-
mitted fewer corruptions and degenerated least from
the purity of the old Tartars. Now, it is usual for
a knot of Irish men and women to abstract them-
selves from matter, bind up all their senses, grow
visionary and spiritual, by influence of a short pipe
of tobacco handed round the company, each preserv-
ing the smoke in his mouth till it comes again to
his turn to take in fresh; at the same time there is
a concert of a continued gentle hum, repeated and
renewed by instinct as occasion requires; and they
move their bodies up and down to a degree that
sometimes their heads and points lie parallel to the
horizon. Meanwhile you may observe their eyes
turned up, in the posture of one who endeavours to
keep himself awake; by which, and many other
symptoms among them, it manifestly appears that
the reasoning faculties are all suspended and super-
seded, that imagination has usurped the seat, scat-
tering a thousand deliriums over the brain. Re-
turning from this digression, I shall describe the
methods by which the spirit approaches The eyes
being disposed according to art, at first you can see
nothing ; but after a short pause a small glimmer-
ing light begins to appear and dance before you:
then, by frequently moving your body up and down,
you perceive the vapours to ascend very fast, till
you are perfectly dosed and flustered like one who
drinks too much in a morning. Meanwhile the
preacher is also at work; he begins a loud hum
which pierces you quite through; this is imme-
diately returned by the audience, and you find
yourself prompted to imitate them by a mere spon-
taneous impulse, without knowing what you do.
The interstitia are duly filled up by the preacher to
prevent too long a pause, under which the spirit
would soon faint and grow languid.
This is all I am allowed to discover about the
progress of the spirit with relation to that part
which is borne by the assembly; but in the methods
of the preacher to which I now proceed I shall be
more large and particular.
SECTION THE SECOND.
You will read it very gravely remarked in the books
of those illustrious and right eloquent penmen,
the modern travellers, that the fundamental differ-
ence in point of religion between the wild Indians
and us, lies in this-that we worship God, and they
worship the devil. But there are certain critics
who will by no means admit of this distinction, ra-
ther believing that all nations whatsoever adore the
true God, because they seem to intend their devo-
tions to some invisible power of greatest goodness
and ability to help them; which perhaps will take
in the brightest attributes ascribed to the Divinity.
Others again inform us that those idolators adore
two principles-the principle of good, and that of
evil; which indeed I am apt to look upon as the
most universal notion that mankind, by the mere
light of nature, ever entertained of things invisible.
How this idea has been managed by the Indians
and us, and with what advantage to the understand-
ings of either, may well deserve to be examined.
To me the difference appears little more than this,
that they are put oftener upon their knees by their
fears, and we by our desires; that the former set
them a praying, and us a cursing. What I applaud
them for is, their discretion in limiting their devo-
tions and their deities to their several districts, nor
ever suffering the liturgy of the white God to cross
or to interfere with that of the black. Not so with
us, who, pretending by the lines and measures of
our reason to extend the dominion of one invisible
power, and contract that of the other, have disco-
vered a gross ignorance in the natures of good and
evil, and most horribly confounded the frontiers of
both. After men have lifted up the throne of their
divinity to the cœlum empyræum, adorned with all
such qualities and accomplishments as themselves
seem most to value and possess after they have
sunk their principle of evil to the lowest centre,
bound him with chains, loaded him with curses,
furnished him with viler dispositions than any rake-
hell of the town, accoutred him with tail, and horns,
and huge claws, and saucer eyes-I laugh aloud to
see these reasoners at the same time engaged in
wise dispute, about certain walks and purlieus, whe-
ther they are in the verge of God or the devil;
seriously debating whether such and such influences
come into men's minds from above or below; whe-
ther certain passions and affections are guided by the
evil spirit or the good:
Dum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinum
Discernunt avidi.
Thus do men establish a fellowship of Christ with
Belial, and such is the analogy they make between
cloven tongues and cloven feet. Of the like nature
is the disquisition before us: it has continued these
136
A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL
hundred years an even debate whether the deport- |
ment and the cant of our English enthusiastic
preachers were possession or inspiration; and a
world of argument has been drained on either side,
perhaps to little purpose. For I think it is in life
as in tragedy, where it is held a conviction of great
defect, both in order and invention, to interpose the
assistance of preternatural power without an abso-
lute and last necessity. However, it is a sketch of
human vanity for every individual to imagine the
whole universe is interested in his meanest concern.
If he has got cleanly over a kennel, some angel un-
seen descended on purpose to help him by the
hand; if he has knocked his head against a post, it
was the devil for his sins let loose from hell on pur-
pose to buffet him. Who that sees a little paltry
Who that sees a little paltry
mortal, droning, and dreaming, and drivelling to a
multitude, can think it agreeable to common good
sense that either heaven or hell should be put to the
trouble of influence or inspection upon what he is
about? therefore I am resolved immediately to
weed this error out of mankind, by making it clear
that this mystery of vending spiritual gifts is no-
thing but a trade, acquired by as much instruction,
and mastered by equal practice and application, as
others arc. This will best appear by describing and
deducting the whole process of the operation, as
variously as it hath fallen under my knowledge or
experience.
*
*
[IIere the whole scheme of spiritual mechanism was
deduced and explained, with an appearance of great
reading and observation; but it was thought neither
safe nor convenient to print it.]
*
*
word, and syllable, and letter, to their due cadence,
the whole operation is incomplete, misses entirely
of its effect on the hearers, and puts the workman
himself to continual pains for new supplies, without
success. For it is to be understood that, in the
language of the spirit, cant and droning supply the
place of sense and reason in the language of men:
because, in spiritual harangues, the disposition of
the words according to the art of grammar has not
the least use, but the skill and influence wholly lie
in the choice and cadence of the syllables; even as
a discreet composer, who, in setting a song, changes
the words and order so often, that he is forced to
make it nonsense before he can make it music. For
this reason it has been held by some that the art of
canting is ever in greatest perfection when managed
by ignorance; which is thought to be enigmatically
meant by Plutarch, when he tells us that the best mu-
sical instruments were made from the bones of an ass.
And the profounder critics upon that passage are of
opinion, the word, in its genuine signification, means
no other than a jaw-bone; though some rather think
it to have been the os sacrum; but in so nice a case
I shall not take upon me to decide; the curious are
at liberty to pick from it whatever they please.
The first ingredient toward the art of canting is, a
competent share of inward light; that is to say, a
large memory, plentifully fraught with theological
polysyllables and mysterious texts from holy writ,
applied and digested by those methods and mechanical
operations already related: the bearers of this light
resembling lanterns compact of leaves from old
Geneva bibles; which invention, sir Humphrey
Edwin, during his mayoralty, of happy memory,
highly approved and advanced; affirming the Scrip-
ture to be now fulfilled, where it says, Thy word is
a lantern to my feet, and a light to my paths.
Now, the art of canting consists in skilfully adapt-
ing the voice to whatever words the spirit delivers,
that cach may strike the ears of the audience with
its most significant cadence. The force or energy
of this eloquence is not to be found, as among an-
cient orators, in the disposition of words to a sen-
tence, or the turning of long periods; but, agreeably to
the modern refinements in music, is taken up wholly
in dwelling and dilating upon syllables and letters.
Thus, it is frequent for a single vowel to draw sighs
from a multitude, and for a whole assembly of saints
to sob to the music of one solitary liquid. But these
are trifles, when even sounds inarticulate are ob-
served to produce as forcible effects. A master
workman shall blow his nose so powerfully as to
pierce the hearts of his people, who were disposed
to receive the excrements of his brain with the same
reverence as the issue of it. Hawking, spitting, and
belching, the defects of other men's rhetoric, are the
flowers, and figures, and ornaments of his. For the
spirit being the same in all, it is of no import through
what vehicle it is conveyed.
Here it may not be amiss to add a few words
upon the laudable practice of wearing quilted caps;
which is not a matter of mere custom, humour, or
fashion, as some would pretend, but an institution
of great sagacity and use: these, when moistened
with sweat, stop all perspiration; and, by reverbe-
rating the heat, prevent the spirit from evaporating
any way but at the mouth; even as a skilful house-
wife that cove s her still with a wet clout for the
same reason, and finds the same effect. For it is
the opinion of choice virtuosi that the brain is only
a crowd of little animals, but with teeth and claws
extremely sharp, and therefore cling together in the
contexture we behold, like the picture of Hobbes's
Leviathan, or like bees in perpendicular swarm
upon a tree, or like a carrion corrupted into vermin,
still preserving the shape and figure of the mother
animal: that all invention is formed by the morsure
of two or more of these animals upon certain ca-
pillary nerves which proceed from thence, whercof
three branches spread into the tongue, and two into
the right hand. They hold also that these animals
are of a constitution extremely cold; that their food
is the air we attract, their excrement phlegm; and
that what we vulgarly call rheums, and colds, and
distillations, is nothing else but an epidemical loose-
ness, to which that little commonwealth is very
subject from the climate it lies under. Further,
that nothing less than a violent heat can disentangle
these creatures from their hamated station of life, or
give them vigour and humour to imprint the marks
of their little teeth. That if the morsure be hexa-
gonal it produces poetry; the circular gives elo-pared with that of conveying the sound through the
quence: if the bite hath been conical, the person
whose nerve is so affected shall be disposed to write
upon politics; and so of the rest.
I shall now discourse briefly by what kind of
practices the voice is best governed toward the com-
position and improvement of the spirit; for, with-
out a competent skill in tuning and toning cach
It is a point of too much difficulty to draw the
principles of this famous art within the compass of
certain adequate rules. However, perhaps I may
one day oblige the world with my critical essay upon
the art of canting; philosophically, physically, and
musically considered.
But, among all improvements of the spirit, wherein
the voice has borne a part, there is none to be com-
nose, which, under the denomination of snuffling,↳
A presbyterian, who, ascending to the dignity of lord
mayor of London, wont in his official character to a meeting-
house.
Tho snuffling of men who have lost their noses by lewd
courses is said to have given rise to that tone which our dis-
senters did too much affect.
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
137
has passed with so great applause in the world. The
originals of this institution are very dark: but,
having been initiated into the mystery of it, and
leave being given me to publish it to the world, I
shall deliver as direct a relation as I can.
This art, like many other famous inventions, owed
its birth, or at least improvement and perfection, to
an effect of chance; but was established upon solid
reasons, and has flourished in this island ever since
with great lustre. All agree that it first appeared
upon the decay and discouragement of bagpipes,
which, having long suffered under the mortal hatred
of the brethren, tottered for a time, and at last fell
with monarchy. The story is thus related.
As yet snuffling was not, when the following ad-
venture happened to a Banbury saint. Upon a
certain day, while he was far engaged among the
tabernacles of the wicked, he felt the outward man
put into odd commotions, and strangely pricked
forward by the inward; an effect very usual among
the modern inspired. For some think that the
spirit is apt to feed on the flesh, like hungry wines
upon raw beef. Others rather believe there is a
perpetual game at leap-frog between both; and
sometimes the flesh is uppermost, and sometimes the
spirit; adding that the former, while it is in the state
of a rider, wears huge Rippon spurs; and, when it
comes to the turn of being bearer, is wonderfully head-
strong and hard-mouthed. However it came about,
the saint felt his vessel full extended in every part;
(a very natural effect of strong inspiration); and
the place and time falling out so unluckily that he
could not have the convenience of evacuating up-
wards, by repetition, prayer, or lecture, he was
forced to open an inferior vent. In short, he wrestled
with the flesh so long, that he at length subdued it,
coming off with honourable wounds all before. |
The surgeon had now cured the parts primarily
affected; but the disease, driven from its post, flew
up into his head; and, as a skilful general, valiantly
attacked in his trenches, and beaten from the field,
by flying marches withdraws to the capital city,
breaking down the bridges to prevent pursuit; so
the disease, repelled from its first station, fled before
the rod of Hermes to the upper region, there forti-
fying itself; but, finding the foe making attacks at
the nose, broke down the bridge and retired to the
head-quarters. Now, the naturalists observe that
there is in human noses an idiosyncracy, by virtue of
which, the more the passage is obstructed, the more
our speech delights to go through, as the music of
a flageolet is made by the stops. By this method
the twang of the nose becomes perfectly to resemble
the snuffle of a bagpipe, and is found to be equally
attractive of British ears; whereof the saint had
sudden experience, by practising his new faculty with
wonderful success, in the operation of the spirit;
for, in a short time, no doctrine passed for sound and
orthodox unless it were delivered through the nose.
Straight every pastor copied after this original; and
those who could not otherwise arrive to a perfection,
spirited by a noble zeal, made use of the same expe-
riment to acquire it; so that, I think, it may be truly
affirmed the saints owe their empire to the snuffling
of one animal, as Darius did his to the neighing of
another; and both stratagems were performed by
the same art; for we read how the Persian beast
acquired his faculty by covering a mare the day
before. [Herodotus.]
I should now have done, if I were not convinced
that whatever I have yet advanced upon this subject
is liable to great exception. For, allowing all I
have said to be true, it may still be justly objected
that there is in the commonwealth of artificial en-
thusiasm some real foundation for art to work upon,
in the temper and complexion of individuals, which
other mortals seem to want. Observe but the gesture,
the motion, and the countenance of some choice
professors, though in their most familiar actions, you
will find them of a different race from the rest of
human creatures. Remark your commonest pre-
tender to a light within, how dark, and dirty, and
gloomy he is without; as lanterns, which, the more
light they bear in their bodies, cast out so much the
more soot, and smoke, and fuliginous matter to ad-
here to the sides. Listen but to their ordinary talk,
and look on the mouth that delivers it, you will
imagine you are hearing some ancient oracle, and
your understanding will be equally informed. Upon
these, and the like reasons, certain objectors pretend
to put it beyond all doubt that there must be a sort
of preternatural spirit possessing the heads of the
modern saints; and some will have it to be the heat
of zeal working upon the dregs of ignorance, as
other spirits are produced from lees by the force of
fire. Some again think, that when our earthly
tabernacles are disordered and desolate, shaken and
out of repair, the spirit delights to dwell within
them; as houses are said to be haunted when they
are forsaken and gone to decay.
To set this matter in as fair a light as possible, I
shall here very briefly deduce the history of fana-
ticism from the most early ages to the present. And
if we are able to fix upon any one material or fun-
damental point, wherein the chief professors have
universally agreed, I think we may reasonably lay
hold on that, and assign it for the great seed or
principle of the spirit.
The most early traces we meet with of fanatics in
ancient story are among the Egyptians, who insti-
tuted those rites known in Greece by the names of
Orgia, Panegyres, and Dionysia; whether introduced
there by Orpheus or Melampus we shall not dispute
at present, nor in all likelihood at any time for the
future [Diod. Sic., 1. i. Plut. de Iside et Osiride].
These feasts were celebrated to the honour of Osiris,
whom the Grecians called Dionysius, and is the
same with Bacchus: which has betrayed some super-
ficial readers to imagine that the whole business was
nothing more than a set of roaring, scouring com-
panions, overcharged with wine; but this is a scan-
dalous mistake, foisted on the world by a sort of
modern authors, who have too literal an understand-
ing; and, because antiquity is to be traced backwards,
do therefore, like Jews, begin their books at the
wrong end, as if learning were a sort of conjuring.
These are the men who pretend to understand a book
by scouring
by scouring through the index; as if a traveller
should go about to describe a palace, when he had
seen nothing but the privy; or like certain fortune-
tellers in Northern America, who have a way of
reading a man's destiny by peeping into his breech.
For, at the time of instituting these mysteries, there
was not one vine in all Egypt [Herodotus, 1. ii.], the
natives drinking nothing but ale; which liquor
seems to have been far more ancient than wine, and
has the honour of owing its invention and progress,
not only to the Egyptian Osiris [Diod. Sic., 1. i. and
iii.],but to the Grecian Bacchus; who, in their famous
expedition, carried the receipt of it along with them,
and gave it to the nations they visited or subdued.
Besides, Bacchus himself was very seldom or never
drunk; for it is recorded of him that he was the
first inventor of the mitre [Id., 1. iv.], which he wore
continually on his head (as the whole company of
bacchanals did), to prevent vapours and the head-
ache after hard drinking. And for this reason, say
some, the scarlet whore, when she makes the kings
of the earth drunk with her cup of abomination, is
always sober herself, though she never balks the
138
A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL OPERATION, ETC.
glass in her turn, being, it seems, kept upon her legs
by the virtue of her triple mitre. Now these feasts
were instituted in imitation of the famous expedi-
tion Osiris made through the world, and of the com-
pany that attended him, whereof the bacchanalian
cermonies were so many types and symbols. From
which account [Diod. Sic., 1. i. and iii.] it is manifest
that the fanatic rites of these bacchanals cannot be
imputed to intoxications by wine, but must needs
have had a deeper foundation. What this was, we
may gather large hints from certain circumstances
in the course of their mysteries. For, in the first
place, there was, in their processions, an entire mix-
ture and confusion of sexes; they affected to ramble
about hills and deserts; their garlands were of ivy
and vine, emblems of cleaving and clinging; or of
fir, the parent of turpentine. It is added that they
imitated satyrs, were attended by goats, and rode
upon asses, all companions of great skill and practice
in affairs of gallantry. They bore for their ensigns
certain curious figures, perched upon long poles,
made into the shape and size of the virga genitalis,
with its appurtenances; which were so many shadows
and emblems of the whole mystery, as well as tro-
phies set up by the female conquerors. Lastly, in a
certain town of Attica, the whole solemnity, stripped
of all its types [Dionysia Brauronia], was performed
in puris naturalibus, the votaries not flying in coveys,
but sorted into couples. The same may be further
conjectured from the death of Orpheus, one of the
institutors of these mysteries, who was torn in
pieces by women, because he refused to commu-
nicate his orgies to them [Vide Photium in excerp-
tis è Conone]; which others explained by telling
us he had castrated himself upon grief for the loss
of his wife.
Omitting many others of less note, the next fa-
natics we meet with of any eminence were the nu-
merous sects of heretics appearing in the five first
centuries of the Christian era, from Simon Magus
and his followers to those of Eutyches. I have col-
lected their systems from infinite reading, and, com-
paring them with those of their successors in the
several ages since, I find there are certain bounds
set even to the irregularity of human thought, and
those a great deal narrower than is commonly ap-
prehended. For, as they all frequently interfere
even in their wildest ravings, so there is one funda-
mental point wherein they are sure to meet, as lines
in a centre, and that is, the community of women.
Great were their solicitudes in this matter, and they
never failed of certain articles, in their schemes of
worship, on purpose to establish it.
The last fanatics of note were those which started
up in Germany a little after the reformation of
Luther, springing as mushrooms do at the end of a
harvest; such were John of Leyden, David George,
Adam Neuster, and many others, whose visions and
revelations always terminated in leading about half
a dozen sisters a-piece, and making that practice a
fundamental part of their system. For human life
is a continual navigation, and if we expect our ves-
sels to pass with safety through the waves and tem-
pests of this fluctuating world, it is necessary to
make a good provision of the flesh, as seamen lay in
store of beef for a long voyage.
Now, from this brief survey of some principal sects
among
the fanatics in all ages (having omitted the
Mahometans and others, who might also help to
confirm the argument I am about), to which I might
add several among ourselves, such as the family of
|
|
Be-
love, sweet singers of Israel, and the like; and,
from reflecting upon that fundamental point in their
doctrines about women wherein they have so unani-
mously agreed, I am apt to imagine that the seed or
principle which has ever put men upon visions in
things invisible is of a corporeal nature; for the
profounder chemists inform us that the strongest
spirits may be extracted from human flesh.
sides, the spinal marrow, being nothing else but a
continuation of the brain, must needs create a very
free communication between the superior faculties
and those below; and thus the thorn in the flesh
serves for a spur to the spirit. I think it is agreed
among physicians that nothing affects the head so
much as a tentiginous humour, repelled and elated
to the upper region, found, by daily practice, to run
frequently up into madness. A very eminent mem-
ber of the faculty assured me that when the Quakers
first appeared he seldom was without some female.
patients among them for the furor —; persons of a
visionary devotion, either men or women, are, in
their complexion, of all others, the most amorous;
for zeal is frequently kindled from the same spark
with other fires, and, from inflaming brotherly love,
will proceed to raise that of a gallant. If we inspect
into the usual process of modern courtship, we shall
find it to consist in a devout turn of the eyes, called
ogling; an artificial form of canting and whining by
rote, every interval, for want of other matter, made
up with a shrug or a hum, a sigh or a groan; the
style compact of insignificant words, incoherences,
and repetition. These I take to be the most ac-
complished rules of address to a mistress; and where
are these performed with more dexterity than by the
saints? Nay, to bring this argument yet closer,
have been informed by certain sanguine brethren of
the first class, that, in the height and orgasmus of
their spiritual exercise, it has been frequent with
them ******; immediately after which, they found
the spirit to relax and flag of a sudden with the
nerves, and they were forced to hasten to a conclu-
sion. This may be further strengthened by observ-
ing, with wonder, how unaccountably all females
are attracted by visionary or enthusiastic preachers,
though ever so contemptible in their outward mien;
which is usually supposed to be done upon con-
siderations purely spiritual, without any carnal re-
gards at all. But I have reason to think the sex
has certain characteristics, by which they form a
truer judgment of human abilities and performings
than we ourselves can possibly do of each other.
Let that be as it will, thus much is certain, that,
however spiritual intrigues begin, they generally
conclude like all others; they may branch upward
toward heaven, but the root is in the earth. Too
intense a contemplation is not the business of flesh
and blood; it must, by the necessary course of
things, in a little time let go its hold, and fall into
matter. Lovers for the sake of celestial converse
are but another sort of Platonics, who pretend to see
stars and heaven in ladies' eyes, and to look or think
no lower; but the same pit is provided for both;
and they seem a perfect moral to the story of that
philosopher, who, while his thoughts and eyes were
fixed upon the constellations, found himself seduced
by his lower parts into a ditch.
I had somewhat more to say upon this part of the
subject; but the post is just going, which forces me
in great haste to conclude, sir, yours, &c.
Pray burn this letter as soon as it comes to your
hands.
139
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
LETTER THE FIRST.a
Chester, Sept. 2, 1710.
Job will give you an account of me till I got into
the boat, after which the rogues made a new bargain,
and forced me to give them two crowns, and talked
as if we should not be able to overtake any ship;
but in half an hour we got to the yacht; for the
ships lay by to wait for my lord-lieutenant's steward.
We made our voyage in fifteen hours just. Last
night I came to this town, and shall leave it, I be-
lieve, on Monday: the first man I met in Chester
was Dr. Raymond. He and Mrs. Raymond were
here about levying a fine, in order to have power to
sell their estate. I got a fall off my horse, riding
here from Parkgate, but no hurt; the horse under-
standing falls very well, and lying quietly till I
got up. My duty to the bishop of Clogher. I saw
him returning from Dunlary; but he saw not me.
I take it ill he was not at convocation, and that I
have not his name to my powers. I beg you will
hold your resolution of going to Trim, and riding
there as much as you can. Let the bishop of Clogher
remind the bishop of Killala to send me a letter,
with one enclosed to the bishop of Litchfield.e Let
all who write to me enclose to Richard Steele, esq.,
at his office at the Cockpit, near Whitehall. My
lord Mountjoy is now in the humour that we should
begin our journey this afternoon, so that I have
stolen here again to finish this letter, which must be
short or long accordingly. I write this post to Mrs.
Wesley, and will tell her that I have taken care she
may have her bill of one hundred and fifty pounds
whenever she pleases to send for it; and in that
case I desire you will send it her enclosed and sealed.
God Almighty bless you; and for God's sake be
merry, and get your health. I am perfectly resolved
to return as soon as I have done my commission,
whether it succeeds or not. I never went to Eng-
land with so little desire in my life. If Mrs. Curry
makes any difficulty about the lodgings I will quit
them, and pay her from July 9; and Mrs. Brent must
write to Parvisol with orders accordingly. The
post is just come from London, and just going out,
so I have only time to pray to God to bless poor
little MD, MD, MD, MD, MD, MD, MD, MD.
a These letters to Stella, or Mrs. Johnson, were all written
in a series from the time of Dr. Swift's landing at Chester, in
September, 1710, until his return to Ireland in June, 1713,
upon being made dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin. The letters
were all very carefully preserved by Stella; and at her death,
if not before, taken back by Dr. Swift; for what end we know
not, unless it were to compare the current news of the times
with that history of the queen which he writ at Windsor in the
year 1713; they were sometimes addressed to Mrs. Johnson,
and sometimes to Mrs. Dingley, who was a relation of the
Temple family, and friend to Mrs. Johnson. Both these ladies
went over to Ireland upon Swift's invitation in the year 1701,
and lodged constantly together.-D.S.
Mr. Joseph Beaumont, merchant, of Trim, had the honour
to be among Swift's friends. He invented a set of tables for
the improvement of the linen trade, and received from govern-
ment a reward, a circumstance frequently alluded to in the
course of these letters. Intense application to investigate the
longitude at length deranged his faculties, and he committed
suicide in a fit of lunacy.
• Vicar of Trim, Swift's particular friend.
d Dr. St. George Ashe, afterwards bishop of Derry.
• Dr. John Hough.
At this time gazetteer, and commissioner of the stamp-
office.
Lady of Garrot Wesley, esq., a daughter of sir Dudley
Colley.
LETTER THE SECOND.
London, Saturday, Sept. 9, 1710.
I GOT here last Thursday, after five days' travelling,
weary the first, almost dead the second, tolerable
the third, and well enough the rest; and am now
glad of the fatigue, which has served for exercise ;
and I am at present well enough. The Whigs were
ravished to see me, and would lay hold on me as a
twig while they are drowning, and the great men
making me their clumsy apologies, &c. But my
lord treasurerb received me with a great deal of
coldness, which has enraged me so, I am almost
vowing revenge. I have not yet gone half my circle;
but I find all my acquaintance just as I left them.
I hear my lady Giffard is much at court, and lady
Wharton was ridiculing it the other day, so I have
lost a friend there. I have not yet seen her, nor
intend it; but I will contrive to see Stella's motherc
some other way. I writ to the bishop of Clogher
from Chester; and I now write to the archbishop
of Dublin. Everything is turning upside down;
every Whig in great office will, to a man, be infal-
libly put out; and we shall have such a winter as
has not been seen in England. Everybody asks
me how I came to be so long in Ireland, as natu-
rally as if here were my being; but no soul offers to
make it so; and I protest I shall return to Dublin,
and the canal at Laracor, with more satisfaction
than I ever did in my life. The Tatler expects
every day to be turned out of his employment; and
the duke of Ormond, they say, will be lieutenant
of Ireland. I hope you are now peaceably in
Presto's lodgings; but I resolve to turn you out
by Christmas, in which time I shall either do my
business, or find it not to be done. Pray be at Trim
by the time this letter cames to you, and ride little
Johnson, who must needs be now in good case. I
have begun this letter unusually on the post night,
and have already written to the archbishop, and
cannot lengthen this. Henceforth I will write
something every day to MD, and make it a sort of
journal; and when it is full I will send it whether
MD writes or not; and so that will be pretty; and
I shall always be in conversation with MD, and
MD with Presto. Pray make Parvisole pay you
the ten pounds immediately; so I ordered him.
They tell me I am growing fatter, and look better;
and, on Monday, Jervis is to retouch my picture.
I thought I saw Jack Templef and his wife pass by
me to-day in their coach, but I took no notice of
them. I am glad I have wholly shaken off that
family. Tell the provost I have obeyed his com-
mands to the duke of Ormond; or let it alone, if
d
For having disappointed his preferment, through the re-
monstrance of Sharpe, archbishop of York.
b The earl of Godolphin.
Lady Giffard, the beloved sister of sir William Temple, is
said to have had a large portion of his genius.
d In these letters, Pdfr stands for Dr. Swift; Ppt for Stella;
D for Dingley; DD generally for Dingley, but sometimes for
both Stella and Dingley; and MD generally stands for both
these ladies; yet sometimes only for Stella. But, to avoid per-
plexing the reader, it was thought more advisable to use the
word Presto for Swift, which is borrowed from the Duchess of
Shrewsbury, who whimsically called him Dr. Presto, which is
the Italian for Swift.
e The doctor's agent at Laracor, a Frenchman.
f Nephew to sir William.
8 This coldness between the Temple family and Dr. Swift
has been variously accounted for but never satisfactorily
cleared up.
140
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
you please. I saw Jemmy Leigha just now at the
coffeehouse, who asked after you with great kind-
ness; he talks of going in a fortnight to Ireland.
My service to the dean,b and Mrs. Walls, and her
archdeacon. Will Frankland's wife is near bring-
ing to bed, and I have promised to christen the
child. I fancy you had my Chester letter the
Tuesday after I writ. I presented Dr. Raymond to
Lord Wharton at Chester. Pray let me know when
Joe gets his money. It is near ten, and I hate to
send by the bellman. MD shall have a longer letter
in a week, but I send this only to tell I am safe in
London; and so farewell, &c.
LETTER THE THIRD.
London, Sept. 9, 1710.
AFTER seeing the duke of Ormond, dining with
Dr. Cockburn, passing some part of the afternoon
with sir Matthew Dudley and Will Frankland, the
rest at St. James's coffeehouse, I came home and
writ to the archbishop of Dublin and MD, and am
going to bed. I forgot to tell you that I begged
Will Frankland to stand Manley'sd friend with his
father in this shaking season for places. He told
me his fathere was in danger to be out; that seve-
ral were now soliciting for Manley's place; that he
was accused of opening letters; that sir Thomas
Frankland would sacrifice everything to save him-
self, and in that I fear Manley is undone, &c.
10. To-day I dined with lord Mountjoy at Ken-
sington; saw my mistress, Ophy Butler's wife, who
is grown a little charmless. I sat till ten in the
evening with Addison and Steele: Steele will cer-
tainly lose his gazetteer's place, all the world de-
testing his engaging in parties. At ten I went to
the coffeehouse, hoping to find lord Radnor, whom
I had not seen. He was there; for an hour and a
half we talked treason heartily against the Whigs,
their baseness and ingratitude. And I am come
home rolling resentments in my mind, and framing
schemes of revenge: full of which (having written
down some hints) I go to bed. I am afraid MD
dined at home, because it is Sunday; and there was
the little half-pint of wine; for God's sake be good
girls, and all will be well. Ben Tooke f was with me
this morning.
11. Seven morning. I am rising to go to Jervas,
to finish my picture, and it is shaving day, so good
morrow, MD; but do not keep me now, for I cannot
stay; and pray dine with the dean, but do not lose.
your money. I long to hear from you, &c.-Ten
at night. I sat four hours this morning to Jervis,
who has given my picture quite another turn, and
now approves it entirely: but we must have the
approbation of the town. If I were rich enough I
would get a copy of it, and bring it over. Mr. Ad-
dison and I dined together at his lodgings, and I sat
with him part of this evening; and I am now come
home to write an hour. Patrick observes that the
rabble here are much more inquisitive in politics
than in Ireland. Every day we expect changes, and
the parliament to be dissolved. Lord Whartons ex-
pects every day to be out: he is working like a
horse for elections; and, in short, I never saw so
great a ferment among all sorts of people. I had a
a An Irish gentleman of fortune.
Dr. Sterne, dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin.
The government premium for his mathematical sleaing
tables.
4 Isaac Manley, esq., postmaster-general for Ireland.
e Sir Thomas Frankland, postmaster-general for England.
f Who printed the TALE OF A TUB and other works for the
doctor.
& Afterwards marquis, lord-lieutenant of Ireland.
miserable letter from Joe last Saturday, telling me
Mr. Pratt" refuses payment of his money. I have
told it Mr. Addison, and will to lord Wharton; but
I fear with no success. However, I will do all I
can.
b
12. To-day I presented Mr. Ford to the duke of
Ormond; and paid my first visit to lord presi-
dent; with whom I had much discourse; but put
him always off when he began of lord Wharton in
relation to me, till he urged it: then I said he knew
I never expected anything from lord Wharton, and
that lord Wharton knew that I understood it so.
He said that he had written twice to lord Wharton
about me, who both times said nothing at all to that
part of his letter. I am advised not to meddle in
the affair of the first-fruits till this hurry is a little
over, which still depends, and we are all in the dark.
Lord-president told me he expects every day to be
out, and has done so these two months. I protest,
upon my life, I am heartily weary of this town, and
wish I had never stirred.
13. I went this morning to the city to see Mr.
Stratford, the Hamburgh merchant, my old school-
fellow; but calling at Bull's on Ludgate-hill, he
forced me to his house at Hampstead to dinner,
among a great deal of ill company; among the rest
Mr. Hoadly, the Whig clergyman, so famous for
acting the contrary part to Sacheverell: but to-mor-
row I design again to see Stratford. I was glad
however to be at Hampstead, where I saw lady
Lucy and Moll Stanhope. I hear very unfortunate
news of Mrs. Long; she and her comrade have
broke up house, and she is broke for good and all,
and is gone to the country: I should be extremely
sorry if this be true.
14. To-day I saw Patty Rolt, who heard I was in
town; and I dined with Stratford at a merchant's in
the city, where I drank the first tokay wine I ever
pected. Stratford is worth a plumb, and is now
saw; and it is admirable, yet not to a degree I ex-
lending the government forty thousand pounds; yet
we were educated together at the same school and
university. We hear the chancellor is to be suddenly
out, and sir Simon Harcourt to succeed him. I am
come early home, not caring for the coffeehouse.
15. To-day Mr. Addison, colonel Freind, and I,
went to see the million lottery drawn at Guildhall.
The jackanapes of blue-coat boys gave themselves
such airs in pulling out the tickets, and showed
white hands open to the company, to let us see there
was no cheat. We dined at a country-house near
Chelsea, where Mr. Addison often retires; and to-
night at the coffeehouse; we hear sir Simon Har-
court is made lord keeper; so that now we expect
every moment the parliament will be dissolved; but
I forgot that this letter will not go in three or four
days, and that my news will be stale, which I should
therefore put in the last paragraph. Shall I send
this letter before I hear from MD, or shall I keep it
to lengthen? I have not yet seen Stella's mother,
because I will not see lady Giffard; but I will con-
trive to get there when lady Giffard is abroad. I
forgot to mark my two former letters; but I remem-
ber this is number 3, and I have not yet had num-
ber 1 from MD.; but I shall by Monday, which I
reckon will be just a fortnight after you had my
first. I am resolved to bring over a great deal of
china. I loved it mightily to-day. What shall I
bring?
16. Morning.-Sir John Holland, comptroller of
the household, has sent to desire my acquaintance;
I have a mind to refuse him, because he is a Whig,
■ Vice-treasurer of Ireland. b The celebrated lord Somers.
Benjamin Hoadly, afterwards bishop of Winchester.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
141
and will, I suppose, be out among the rest; but he
is a man of worth and learning. Tell me, do you
like this journal way of writing? Is it not tedious
and dull?
Night. I dined to-day with a cousin, a printer,
where Patty Rolt lodges, and then came home, after
a visit or two; and it has been a very insipid day.
Mrs. Long's a misfortune is confirmed to me; bai-
liffs were in her house; she retired to private lodg-
ings; thence to the country, nobody knows where:
her friends leave letters at some inn, and they are
carried to her; and she writes answers, without
dating them from any place. I swear it grieves me
to the soul.
17. To-day I dined six miles out of town, with
Will Pate, the learned woollen-draper.b Mr. Strat-
ford went with me: six miles here is nothing we
left Pate after sunset, and were here before it was
dark. This letter shall go on Thursday, whether I
hear from MD or no. My health continues pretty
well; pray God Stella may give me a good account
of hers and I hope you are now at Trim, or soon
designing it. I was disappointed to-night; the fel-
low gave me a letter, and I hoped to see little MD's
hand; and it was only to invite me to a venison
pasty to-day: so I lost my pasty into the bargain.
Pox on these declining courtiers: Here is Mr.
Brydges, the paymaster-general, desiring my ac-
quaintance; but I hear the queen sent lord Shrews-
bury to assure him he may keep his place; and he
promises me great assistance in the affair of the first-
fruits. Well, I must turn over this leaf to-night,
though the side would hold another line; but pray
consider this is a whole sheet: it holds a plaguy
deal, and you must be content to be weary; but I
will do so no more. Sir Simon Harcourt is made
attorney-general, and not lord-keeper.
18. To-day I dined with Mr. Stratford at Mr.
Addison's retirement near Chelsea; then came to
town; got home early, and began a letter to the
Tatler, about the corruptions of style and writing,
&c.; and having not heard from you, am resolved
this letter shall go to-night. Lord Wharton was
sent for to town in mighty haste by the duke of
Devonshire; they have some project in hand; but
it will not do, for every hour we expect a thorough
revolution, and that the parliament will be dissolved.
When you see Joe, tell him lord Wharton is too
busy to mind any of his affairs; but I will get what
good offices I can from Mr. Addison, and will write
to-day to Mr. Pratt; and bid Joe not to be discou-
raged, for I am confident he will get the money un-
der any government; but he must have patience.
19. I have been scribbling this morning, and I
believe shall hardly fill this side to-day, but send it
as it is; and it is good enough for naughty girls that
will not write to a body, and to a good boy like
Presto. I thought to have sent this to-night, but
was kept by company, and could not; and, to say
the truth, I had a little mind to expect one post more
for a letter from MD. Yesterday at noon died the
earl of Anglesea, the great support of the Tories;
so that employment of vice-treasurer of Ireland is
again vacant. We were to have been great friends,
and I could hardly have a loss that could grieve me
more. The bishop of St. David's (Dr. George Bull) |
died the same day. The duke of Ormond's daugh-
ter was to visit me to-day at a third place by way
of advance, and I am to return it to-morrow. I have
A celebrated beauty and toast of the Kit-cat Club, who re-
tired in her misfortune to Lynn, Norfolk, under an assumed
b Will Pate was a tradesman of such a turn for lettors as to
be called the learned woollen-draper.
name.
had a letter from lady Berkeley, begging me for
charity to come to Berkeley Castle, for company to
my lord, who has been ill of a dropsy; but I cannot
go, and must send my excuse to-morrow.
I am
told that in a few hours there will be more removals.
20. To-day I returned my visits to the duke's
daughters; the insolent drabs came up to my very
mouth to salute me; then I heard the report con-
firmed of removals; my lord president Somers;
the duke of Devonshire, lord steward; and Mr.
Boyle, secretary of state, are all turned out to-day.
I never remember such bold steps taken by a court:
I am almost shocked at it, though I did not care
if they were all hanged. We are astonished why
the parliament is not yet dissolved, and why they
keep a matter of that importance to the last. We
shall have a strange winter here between the strug-
gles of a cunning provoked discarded party, and the
triumphs of one in power; of both which I shall be
an indifferent spectator, and return very peaceably
to Ireland, when I have done my part in the affair I
am entrusted with, whether it succeeds or not. To-
morrow I change my lodgings in Pall-mall for one
in Bury-street, where I suppose I shall continue
while I stay in London. If anything happens to-
morrow I will add it.
Robin's Coffeehouse.-We have great news just
now from Spain; Madrid taken and Pampeluna. I
am here ever interrupted.
21. I have just received your letter, which I will
not answer now; God be thanked all things are so
well. I find you have not yet had my second: I had
a letter from Parvisol, who tells me he gave Mrs.
Walls a bill of twenty pounds for me, to be given to
you; but you have not sent it. This night the par-
liament is dissolved: great news from Spain; king
Charles and Stanhope are at Madrid, and count
Staremberg has taken Pampeluna. Farewell. This
is from St. James's Coffeehouse. I will begin my
answer to your letter to-night, but not send it this
week. Pray, tell me whether you like this journal
way of writing. I do not like your reasons for not
going to Trim. Parvisol tells me he can sell your
horse. Sell it with a pox? Pray let him know that
he shall sell his soul as soon. What? sell anything
that Stella loves, and may sometimes ride? It is
hers, and let her do as she pleases: pray let him
know this by the first that you know goes to Trim.
Let him sell my gray and be hanged.
LETTER THE FOURTH.
London, Sept. 21, 1710.
HERE must I begin another letter, on a whole sheet,
for fear saucy little MD should be angry and think
much that the paper is too little. I had your letter
this night, as I told you just and no more in my
last; for this must be taken up in answering yours,
sauce-box. I believe I told you where I dined to-
day; and to-morrow I go out of town for two days to
dine with the same company on Sunday; Molesworth
the Florence envoy,a Stratford, and some others.
I heard to-day that a gentlewoman from lady Gif-
fard's house had been at the coffeehouse to inquire
for me. It was Stella's mother, I suppose. I shall
send her a penny-post letter to-morrow, and contrive
to see her without hazarding seeing lady' Giffard,
which I will not do until she begs my pardon.
22. I dined to-day at Hampstead with lady Lucy,
&c., and when I got home found a letter from Joe,
a John Molesworth, envoy extraordinary to the king of Sar-
dinia, and afterwards to the states of Venice and Switzerland,
b A merchant in the city often mentioned.
142
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
with one enclosed to lord Wharton, which I will
send to his excellency, and second it as well as I
can; but to talk of getting the queen's orders is a
jest. Things are in such a combustion here, that I
am advised not to meddle yet in the affair I am
upon, which concerns the clergy of a whole king-
dom [the first fruits]; and does he think anybody
will trouble the queen about Joe? We shall, I
hope, get a recommendation from the lord-lieutenant
to the trustees for the linen business, and I hope
that will do; and so I will write to him in a few
days, and he must have patience. This is an answer
to part of your letter as well as his. I lied, it is to-
morrow I go to the country; and I will not answer
a bit more of your letter yet.
23. Here is such a stir and bustle with this little
MD of ours; I must be writing every night; I can-
not go to bed without a word to them; I cannot put
out my candle till I have bid them good night; O
Lord, O Lord! Well, I dined the first time to-day
with Will Frankland and his fortune; she is not
very handsome. Did I not say I would go out of
town to-day? I hate lying abroad and clutter I go
to-morrow in Frankland's chariot, and come back
at night. Lady Berkeley has invited me to Berkeley
Castle, and lady Betty Germain to Drayton in
Northamptonshire, and I will go to neither. Let
me alone, I must finish my pamphlet. I have sent
a long letter to Bickerstaff: let the bishop of Clog-
her smoke it if he can. Well, I will write to the
bishop of Killala: but you might have told him
how sudden and unexpected my journey was though.
Deuce take lady S; and if I know D--y,
he is a rawboned faced fellow, not handsome, nor
visibly so young as you say: she sacrifices two
thousand pounds a year, and keeps only six hun-
dred. Well, you have had all my land journey in
my second letter, and so much for that.
have got into Presto's lodgings; very fine, truly!
We have had a fortnight of the most glorious weather
on earth, and still continues: I hope you have made
the best of it. Ballygall will be a pure good place
for air, if Mrs. Ashe makes good her promise. Stella
writes like an emperor; I am afraid it hurts your
eyes; take care of that, pray, pray, Mrs. Stella.
Cannot you do what you will with your own horse?
Pray do not let that puppy Parvisol sell him.
Patrick is drunk about three times a week, and I
bear it, and he has got the better of me; but one of
these days I will positively turn him off to the wide
world, when none of you are by to intercede for
him.-Stuff-how can I get her husband into the
Charter-house?-Get a
into the Charter-
house.Write constantly! Why, sirrah, do not
I write every day, and sometimes twice a day, to
MD? Now I have answered all your letter, and
the rest must be as it can be; send me my bill.
Tell Mrs. Brentb what I say of the Charter-house.
I think this enough for one night; and so farewell
till this time to-morrow.
So you
24. To-day I dined six miles out of town at Will
Pate's with Stratford, Frankland, and the Moles-
worths, and came home at night, and was weary
and lazy. I can say no more now, but good night.
25. I was so lazy to-day that I dined at next door,c
and have sat at home since six, writing to the bishop
of Clogher, dean Sterne, and Mr. Manley: the last,
because I am in fear for him about his place, and
have sent him my opinion, what I and his other
friends here think he ought to do. I hope he will
a In these broken ejaculations he answers the paragraphs of
the lady's letter.
b Housekeeper to the doctor.
• No doubt at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's.
|
|
take it well. My advice was, to keep as much in
favour as possible with sir Thomas Frankland, his
master here.
26. Smoke how I widen the margin by lying in
bed when I write. My bed lies on the wrong side for
me, so that I am forced often to write when I am up.
Manley, you must know, has had people putting in
for his place already; and has been complained of
for opening letters. Remember that last Sunday,
September 24, 1710, was as hot as Midsummer.
This was written in the morning; it is now night,
and Presto in bed. Here's a clutter, I have gotten
MD's second letter, and I must answer it here. I
gave the bill to Tooke, and so-Well, I dined to-
day with sir John Holland the comptroller, and sat
with him till eight; then came home and sent my
letters, and writ part of a lampoon, which goes on
very slow, and now I am writing to saucy MD; no
wonder, indeed, good boys must write to naughty
girls. I have not seen your mother yet; my penny-
post letter, I suppose, miscarried: I will write another.
Mr. S
came to see me, and said M- was
going to the country next morning with her husband,
(who I find is a surly brute), so I could only desire
my service to her.
27. To-day all our company dined at Will Frank-
land's, with Steele and Addison too. This is the
first rainy day since I came to town; I cannot afford
to answer your letter yet. Morgan, the puppy,
writ me a long letter to desire I would recommend
him for purse-bearer or secretary to the next lord
chancellor that would come with the next governor.
I will not answer him; but beg you will say these
words to his father, Raymond, or anybody that will
tell him—that Dr. Swift has received his letter, and
would be very ready to serve him, but cannot do it
in what he desires, because he has no sort of interest
in the persons to be applied to. These words you
may write, and let Joe, or Mr. Warburton," give
them to him—a pox on him! However, it is by
these sort of ways that fools get preferment. I must
not end yet, because I cannot say good night with-
out losing a line, and then MD would scold; but
now, good night.
28. I have the finest piece of Brazil tobacco for
Dingley that ever was born. You talk of Leigh;
why, he will not be in Dublin these two months:
he goes to the country, then returns to London, to
see how the world goes here in parliament. Good
night, sirrahs; no, no, not night; I wrote this in
the morning, and looking carelessly I thought it had
been of last night. I dined to-day with Mrs. Barton
alone at her lodgings, where she told me for certain
that lady S-
that lady S―― was with child when she was last
in England, and pretended a tympany, and saw
everybody; then disappeared for three weeks, her
tympany was gone, and she looked like a ghost, &c.
No wonder she married when she was so ill at con-
taining. Conolly is out, and Mr. Roberts in his
place, who loses a better here, but was formerly a
commissioner in Ireland. That employment cost
Conolly three thousand pounds to lord Wharton ;
so has made one ill bargain in his life.
C
29. I wish MD a merry Michaelmas. I dined
with Mr. Addison, and Jervas the painter, at Addi-
son's country place; and then came home, and wrote
more to my lampoon. I made a Tatler since I came;
guess which it is, and whether the bishop of Clogher
smokes it. I saw Mr. Sterne to-day: he will do as
you order, and I will give him chocolate for Stella's
a The Virtues of Sid Hamet the Magician's Rod. A satiro
on Godolphin.
b The doctor's curate at his living of Laracor.
• A commissioner of the revenue, afterwards speaker.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
143
health. He goes not these three weeks. I wish I
could send it some other way. So now to your
letter, brave boys. I do not like your way of saving
shillings nothing vexes me but that it does not
make Stella a coward in a coach. I do not think
any lady's advice about my ears signifies twopence ;
however I will, in compliance to you, ask Dr. Cock-
burn. Radcliffe I know not, and Bernard I never
see.
Walls [archdeacon} will certainly be stingier
for seven years, upon pretence of his robbery. So
Stella puns again; why, it is well enough; but I
will not second it, though I could make a dozen: I
never thought of a pun since I left Ireland.-Bishop
of Clogher's bill? why, he paid it me; do you think
I was such a fool to go without it? As for the four
As for the four
shillings, I will give you a bill on Parvisol for it on
the other side this paper; and pray tear off the two
letters I shall write to him and Joe, or let Dingley
transcribe and send them; though that to Parvisol,
I believe, he must have my hand for.-No, no, I will
eat no grapes; I eat about six the other day at sir
John Holland's; but would not give sixpence for a
thousand, they are so bad this year. Yes, faith, I
hope in God Presto and MD will be together this
time twelvemonth; what then? Last year, I sup-
pose, I was at Laracor; but next I hope to eat my
Michaelmas goose at my little goose's lodgings. I
drink no aile (I suppose you mean ale), but yet
good wine every day, of five and six shillings a bot-
tle. O Lord, how much Stella writes; pray do not
carry that too far, young women, but be temperate
to hold out. To-morrow I go to Mr. Harley. Why
small hopes from the duke of Ormond? he loves
me very well, I believe, and would in my turn give
me something to make me easy; and I have good
interest among his best friends. But I do not think
of anything further than the business I am upon:
you see I wrote to Manley before I had your letter,
and I fear he will be out. Yes, Mrs. Owl, Blighe's
corpse came to Chester when I was there, and I told
you so in my letter, or forgot it. I lodge in Bury-
street, where I removed a week ago. I have the
first floor, a dining-room and bed-chamber, at eight
shillings a week; plaguy deep, but I spend nothing
for eating never go to a tavern, and very seldom,
in a coach; yet after all it will be expensive. Why do
you trouble yourself, Mistress Stell, about my instru-
ment? I have the same the archbishop gave me;
and it is as good now the bishops are away. The
dean friendly! The dean be pox'd: a great piece
of friendship indeed, what you heard him tell the
bishop of Clogher; I wonder he had the face to talk
so: but he lent me money, and that is enough. Faith
I would not send this these four days, only for writing
to Joe and Parvisol. Tell the dean that when the
bishops send me any packets, they must not write to
me at Mr. Steele's; but direct for Steele, at his office
at the Cockpit; and let the enclosed be directed for
me; that mistake cost me eighteenpence the other
day.
30. I dined with Stratford to-day, but am not to
see Mr. Harley till Wednesday: it is late, and I
send this before there is occasion for the bell; be-
cause I would have Joe have his letter, and Parvisol
too: which you must so contrive as not to cost
them double postage. I can say no more, but that
I am, &c.
LETTER THE FIFTH.
London, Sept. 30, 1710.
Have not I brought myself into a fine premunire to
а
begin writing letters in whole sheets? and now I
dare not leave it off. I cannot tell whether you like
these journal letters: I believe they would be dull
to me to read them over; but perhaps little MD
is pleased to know how Presto passes his time in
her absence. I always begin my last the same day
I ended the former. I told you where I dined to-
day at a tavern with Stratford: Lewis, who is a
great favourite of Harley's, was to have been with
us; but he was hurried to Hampton Court, and
sent his excuse, and that next Wednesday he would
introduce me to Harley. It is good to see what
a lamentable confession the Whigs all make me
I am al-
of my ill usage; but I mind them not.
ready represented to Harley as a discontented per-
son, that was used ill for not being Whig enough;
The Tories
and I hope for good usage from him.
drily tell me I may make my fortune if I please;
but I do not understand them, or rather I do under-
stand them.
October 1. To-day I dined at Molesworth's, the
Florence envoy; and sat this evening with my friend
Darteneuf, whom you have heard me talk of; the
greatest punner of this town next myself. Have you
smoked the Tatler that I writ? it is much liked
here, and I think it a pure one. To-morrow I go
with Delaval the Portugal envoy to dine with lord
Halifax near Hampton Court. Your Manley's bro-
ther, a parliament-man here, has gotten an em-
ployment, and I am informed uses much interest to
preserve his brother: and to-day I spoke to the
elder Frankland to engage his father (postmaster
here), and I hope he will be safe, although he is
cruelly hated by all the Tories of Ireland.
almost finished my lampoon, and will print it for
revenge on a certain great person [the earl of Go-
dolphin]. It has cost me but three shillings in meat
and drink since I came here, as thin as the town is.
I laugh to see myself so disengaged in these revolu-
tions. Well, I must leave off and go write to sir
John Stanley to desire him to engage lady Hyde as
my mistress, to engage lord Hyde in favour of
Mr. Pratt.
I have
2. Lord Halifax was at Hampton Court at his
lodgings, and I dined with him there with Methuenb
and Delaval and the late attorney-general. I went
to the drawing-room before dinner (for the queen
was at Hampton Court), and expected to see nobody,
but I met acquaintance enough. I walked in the
gardens, saw the cartoons of Raphael, and other
things, and with great difficulty got from lord Ha-
lifax, who would have kept me to-morrow to show
me his house and park and improvements. We left
Hampton Court at sunset, and got here in a chariot
and two horses time enough by starlight. That's some-
thing charms me mightily about London; that you
go dine a dozen miles off in October, stay all day,
and return so quickly; you cannot do anything like
this in Dublin. I writ a second penny-post letter
to your mother, and hear nothing of her. Did I tell
you that earl Berkeley died last Sunday was se'en-
night at Berkeley Castle, of a dropsy? Lord Halifax
began a health to me to-day it was the resurrection
of the Whigs, which I refused, unless he would add
their reformation too: and I told him he was the only
Whig in England I loved, or had any good opinion
of.
3. This morning Stella's sister came to me with a
letter from her mother, who is at Sheen, but will
soon be in town, and will call to see me: she gave
me a bottle of palsy-water, a small one, and desired
I would send it you by the first convenience, as I
a Erasmus Lewis, secretary to the earl of Dartmouth.
b Sir Paul Methuen, ambassador at the court of Portugal.
144
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
will; and she promises a quart bottle of the same
your sister looked very well, and seems a good mo-
dest sort of girl. I went then to Mr. Lewis, first
secretary to lord Dartmouth and favourite to Mr.
Harley, who is to introduce me to-morrow morning.
Lewis had with him one Mr. Dyot, a justice of
peace, worth twenty thousand pounds, a commis-
sioner of the stamp-office, and married to a sister of
sir Philip Meadows, envoy to the emperor. I tell
you this, because it is odds but this Mr. Dyot will
be hanged; for he is discovered to have counter-
feited stamp-paper, in which he was a commissioner;
and, with his accomplices, has cheated the queen of
a hundred thousand pounds. You will hear of it
before this come to you, but may be not so particu-
larly; and it is a very odd accident in such a man.
Smoke Presto writing news to MD. I dined to-day
with lord Mountjoy at Kensington, and walked
from thence this evening to town like an emperor.
Remember that yesterday, October 2, was a cruel
hard frost, with ice; and six days ago I was dying
with heat. As thin as the town is, I have more din-
ners than ever, and am asked this month by some
people, without being able to come for pre-engage-
ments. Well, but I should write plainer, when I
consider Stella cannot read, and Dingley is not so
skilful at my ugly hand. I had to-night a letter
from Mr. Pratt, who tells me Joe will have his
money when there are trustees appointed by the
lord-lieutenant for receiving and disposing the linen
fund; and whenever those trustees are appointed I
will solicit whoever is lord-lieutenant, and am in no
fear of succeeding. So pray tell or write him word,
and bid him not be cast down; for Ned Southwell c
and Mr. Addison both think Pratt in the right. Do
not lose your money at Manley's to-night, sirrahs.
I am
4. After I had put out my candle last night, my
landlady came into my room with a servant of lord
Halifax to desire I would go dine with him at his
house near Hampton Court; but I sent him word
I had business of great importance that hindered
me, &c.
And to-day I was brought privately to
Mr. Harley, who received me with the greatest re-
spect and kindness imaginable: he has appointed
me an hour on Saturday at four, afternoon, when I
will open my business to him; which expression I
would not use if I were a woman.
I know you
smoked it; but I did not till I writ it. I dined to-
day at Mr. Delaval's, the envoy of Portugal, with
Nic Rowe the poet, and other friends; and I gave
my lampoon to be printed. I have more mischief
in my heart; and I think it shall go round with
them all, as this hits, and I can find hints.
certain I answered your 2nd letter, and yet I do not
find it here.
I suppose it was in my 4th; and why
N. 2nd, 3rd? is it not enough to say, as I do, 1, 2,
3, &c.? I am going to work at another Tatler: I
will be far enough but I say the same thing over
two or three times, just as I do when I am talking to
little MD; but what care I? they can read it as
easily as I can write it: I think I have brought
these lines pretty straight again. I fear it will be
long before I finish two sides at this rate. Pray,
dear MD, when I occasionally give you a little com-
mission mixed with my letters, do not forget it, as
that to Morgan and Joe, &c., for I write just as I
can remember, otherwise I would put them all
together. I was to visit Mr. Sterne to-day, and gave
him your commission about handkerchiefs: that of
chocolate I will do myself, and send it him when he
"He was tried for felony at the Old Bailey, January 13th,
1710-11, and acquitted.
b Owing to her shortness of sight.
© ▲ privy counsellor, and secretary of state for Ireland.
goes, and you will pay me when the givers bread,
&c. To-night I will read a pamphlet to amuse my-
self.
God preserve your dear healths.
5. This morning Delaval came to see me, and we
went to Kneller's," who was not in town. In the
way we met the electors for parliament-men: and
the rabble came about our coach, crying a Colt, a
Stanhope, &c. We were afraid of a dead cat, or our
glasses broken, and so were always of their side.b I
dined again at Delaval's, and in the evening at the
coffeehouse heard sir Andrew Fountaine was come to
town. This has been but an insipid sort of day,
and I have nothing to remark upon it worth three-
pence: I hope MD had a better with the dean, the
bishop, or Mrs. Walls. Why, the reason you lost
four and eightpence last night but one at Manley's
was because you played bad games; I took notice
of six that you had ten to one against you: Would
any but a mad lady go out twice upon manilio,
basto, and two small diamonds? Then, in that
game of spades, you blundered when you had ten
ace; I never saw the like of you and now you are
in a huff because I tell you this. Well, here is two
and eightpence halfpenny toward your loss.
6. Sir Andrew Fountaine came this morning and
caught me writing in bed. I went into the city
with him, and we dined at the chophouse with Will
Pate the learned woollen-draper: then we saun-
tered at china-shops and booksellers; went to the
tavern, drank two pints of white wine, and never
parted till ten: and now I am come home, and
must copy out some papers I intend for Mr. Harley,
whom I am to see, as I told you, to-morrow after-
noon so that this night I shall say little to MD,
but that I heartily wish myself with them, and will
come as soon as I either fail or compass my business.
We now hear daily of elections; and, in a list I saw
yesterday of about twenty, there are seven or eight
more Tories than in the last parliament; so that I
believe they need not fear a majority, with the help
of those who will vote as the court pleases. But I
have been told that Mr. Harley himself would not
let the Tories be too numerous, for fear they should
be insolent and kick against him; and for that rea-
son they have kept several Whigs in employments,
who expected to be turned out every day; as sir
John Holland the comptroller, and many others.
And so get you gone to your cards and your claret
and orange at the dean's, and I will go write.
7. I wonder when this letter will be finished: it
must go by Tuesday, that is certain; and if I have
one from MD before, I will not answer it, that is as
certain too! It is now morning, and I did not finish.
my papers for Mr. Harley last night; for you must
understand Presto was sleepy, and made blunders
and blots. Very pretty that I must be writing to
young women in a morning fresh and fasting, faith.
Well, good morrow to you: and so I go to business,
and lay aside this paper till night, sirrahs. At
night.-Jack Howe told Harley "that if there were
a lower place in hell than another, it was reserved
for his porter, who tells lies so gravely and with so
civil a manner." This porter I have had to deal
with, going this evening at four to visit Mr. Harley,
by his own appointment. But the fellow told me
no lie, though I suspected every word he said. He
told me "his master was just gone to dinner, with
much company, and desired I would come an hour
hence," which I did, expecting to hear Mr. Harley
was gone out; but they had just done dinner. Mr.
Harley came out to me, brought me in, and pre-
Sir Godfrey Kneller's the painter.
The Westminster election was closely contested.
Dr. Sterne, dean of St. Patrick's.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
145
sented me to his son-in-law lord Doblanea (or some
such name), and his own son, and among others
Will Penn the Quaker: we sat two hours drinking
as good wine as you do; and two hours more he
and I alone; where he heard me tell my business,
entered into it with all kindness, asked for my
powers, and read them; and read likewise a me-
morial I had drawn up, and put it in his pocket to
show the queen, told me the measures he would
take, and, in short, said everything I could wish;
told me he must bring Mr. St. John, secretary of
state [the celebrated lord Bolingbroke], and me
acquainted; and spoke so many things of personal
kindness and esteem for me, that I am inclined half
to believe what some friends have told me, that he
would do everything to bring me over. He has de-
sired to dine with me (what a comical mistake was
that!)-I mean he has desired me to dine with him
on Tuesday, and, after four hours being with him,
set me down at St. James's Coffeehouse in a hackney
coach. All this is odd and comical, if you consider
him and me. He knew my christian name very
well. I could not forbear saying thus much upon
this matter, although you will think it tedious. But
I will tell you: you must know it is fatal to me
to be a scoundrel and a prince the same day; for
being to see him at four, I could not engage myself
to dine at any friend's; so I went to Tooke to give
him a ballad and dine with him, but he was not at
home; so I was forced to go to a blind chophouse,
and dine for tenpence upon gill ale, bad broth, and
three chops of mutton; and then go reeking from
thence to the first minister of state. And now I am
going in charity to send Steele a Tatler, who is very
low of late. I think I am civiller than I used to be,
and have not used the expression of "you in Ireland”
and "we in England," as I did when I was here
before, to your great indignation. They may talk of
the you know what; but, gad, if it had not been for
that I should never have been able to get the access
I have had; and if that helps me to succeed, then
that same thing will be serviceable to the church.
But how far we must depend upon new friends
I have learnt by long practice, though I think, among
great ministers, they are just as good as old ones.
And so I think this important day has made a great
hole in this side of the paper; and the fiddle-faddles
of to-morrow and Monday will make up the rest;
and, besides, I shall see Harley on Tuesday before
this letter goes.
8. I must tell you a great piece of refinement of
Harley. He charged me to come to him often; I
told him I was loth to trouble him in so much busi-
ness as he had, and desired I might have leave to
come at his levee; which he immediately refused,
and said, "That was not a place for friends to come
to." It is now but morning, and I have got a
foolish trick; I must say something to MD when I
wake, and wish them a good morrow; for this is
not a shaving day, Sunday, so I have time enough:
but get you gone, you rogues, I must go write: yes,
it will vex me to the blood if any of these long let-
ters should miscarry if they do I will shrink to
half-sheets again; but then what will you do to
make up the journal? there will be ten days of
Presto's life lost, and that will be a sad thing, faith
and troth.-At night. I was at a loss to-day for a
dinner, unless I would have gone a great way, so I
dined with some friends that board hereabout, as a
"George Henry Hay, viscount Dupplin, eldest son to the
earl of Kinnoul.
b These words plainly refer to the "Tale of a Tub," for
which he had been censured by many of his own profession;
but the ministers were dreadfully afraid of Swift's satire and
powers when launched at them.
VOL. I.
spunger; and this evening sir Andrew Fountaine
would needs have me go to the tavern, where, for
two bottles of wine, Portugal and Florence, among
three of us, we had sixteen shillings to pay; but if
ever he catches me so again, I will spend as many
pounds: and therefore I have put it among my ex-
traordinaries; but we had a neck of mutton dressed
à la Maintenon, that the dog could not eat; and it
is now twelve o'clock, and I must go sleep. I hope
this letter will go before I have MD's third. Do
you believe me? and yet faith I long for MD's third
too; and yet I would have it to say that I write five
for two. I am not fond at all of St. James's Coffee-
house as I used to be. I hope it will mend in win-
but now they are all out of town at elections,
or not come from their country houses. Yesterday
I was going with Dr. Garth to dine with Charles
Main, near the Tower, who has an employment
there; he is of Ireland: the bishop of Clogher
knows him well; an honest, good-natured fellow, a
thorough hearty laugher, mightily beloved by the
men of wit; his mistress is never above a cook-
maid. And so good night, &c.
ter;
9. I dined to-day at sir John Stanley's; my lady
Stanley is one of my favourites: I have as many
here as the bishop of Killala has in Ireland.
I am
thinking what scurvy company I shall be to MD
when I come back: they know everything of me
already: I will tell you no more, or I shall have
nothing to say, no story to tell, nor any kind of
thing. I was very uneasy last night with ugly,
nasty, filthy wine, that turned sour on my stomach. I
must go to the tavern! O, but I told you that before.
To-morrow I dine at Harley's, and will finish this
letter at my return; but I can write no more now,
because of the archbishop: faith it is true; for I
am going now to write to him an account of what I
have done in the business with Harley: and faith,
young women, I will tell you what you must count
upon, that I never will write one word on the third
side in these long letters.
10. Poor MD's letter was lying so huddled up
among papers I could not find it: I mean poor
Presto's letter. Well, I dined with Mr. Harley to-
day, and hope some things will be done, but I must
say no more; and this letter must be sent to the
post-house, and not by the bellman. I am to dine
again there on Sunday next; I hope to some good
issue. And so now, soon as ever I can in bed, I
must begin my 6th to MD, as gravely as if I had
not written a word this month: fine doings, faith.
Methinks I do not write as I should, because I am
not in bed: see the ugly wide lines. God Al-
mighty ever bless you, &c.
Faith, this is a whole treatise; I will go reckon
the lines on the other sides. I have reckoned
them."
LETTER THE SIXTH.
London, Oct. 10, 1710.
So, as I told you just now in the letter I sent half
an hour ago, I dined with Mr. Harley to-day, who
presented me to the attorney-general, sir Simon
Harcourt, with much compliment on all sides, &c.
Harley told me he had shown my memorial to the
queen, and seconded it very heartily; and he desires.
me to dine with him again on Sunday, when he
promises to settle it with her majesty before she
names a governor; and I protest I am in hopes it
will be done all but the forms by that time, for he
loves the church: this is a popular thing, and he
would not have a governor share in it; and besides,
I am told by all hands he has a mind to gain me
n
Seventy-three lines in folio, small hand, upon one side.
L
146
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
over.
But in the letter I writ last post (yesterday) |
to the archbishop I did not tell him a syllable of
what Mr. Harley said to me last night, because he
charged me to keep it secret; so I would not tell
it to you, but that before this goes I hope the secret
will be over. I am now writing my poetical de-
scription of a Shower in London, and will send it to
the Tatler. This is the last sheet of a whole quire
I have written since I came to town. Pray, now it
comes into my head, will you, when you go to Mrs.
Wall, contrive to know whether Mrs. Wesley be in
town, and still at her brother's, and how she is in
health, and whether she stays in town? I writ to
her from Chester to know what I should do with
her note, and I believe the poor woman is afraid to
write to me; so I must go to my business, &c.
11. To-day at last I dined with lord Montrath,
and carried lord Mountjoy and sir Andrew Foun-
taine with me; and was looking over them at
ombre till eleven this evening like a fool: they
played running ombre half-crowns; and sir An-
drew Fountaine won eight guineas of Mr. Coote:
so I am come home late, and will say but little to
MD this night. I have gotten half a bushel of coals,
and Patrick, the extravagant whelp, had a fire ready
for me; but I picked off the coals before I went to
bed. It is a sign London is now an empty place,
when it will not furnish me with matter for above
five or six lines in a day. Did you smoke in my
last how I told you the very day and the place you
were playing ombre? But I interlined and altered
a little, after I had received a letter from Mr. Man-
ley, that said you were at it in his house while he
was writing to me; but without his help I guessed
within one day. Your town is certainly much more
sociable than ours. I have not seen your mother
yet, &c.
a
myself to the accidents of the day; and so get you
gone to ombre, and be good girls and save your mo-
ney, and be rich against Presto comes, and write to
me now and then: I am thinking it would be a
pretty thing to hear something from saucy MD; but
do not hurt your eyes, Stella, I charge you.
13. O Lord, here is but a trifle of my letter writ-
ten yet; what shall Presto do for prittle-prattle to
entertain MD? The talk now grows fresher of the
duke of Ormond for Ireland, though Mr. Addison
says he hears it will be in commission, and lord
Galway a one. These letters of mine are a sort of
journal where matters open by degrees; and, as I
tell true or false, you will find by the event whether
my intelligence be good: but I do not care two-
pence whether it be or no. At night.-To-day I
was all about St. Paul's, and up at the top like a
fool, with sir Andrew Fountaine and two more;
and spent seven shillings for my dinner like a
puppy; this is the second time he has served me so;
but I will never do it again, though all mankind
should persuade me : unconsidering puppies! There
is a young fellow here in town we are all fond of,
and about a year or two come from the university,
one Harrison, a little, pretty fellow, with a great
deal of wit, good sense, and good nature; has writ-
ten some mighty pretty things; that in your 6th
Miscellanea about the Sprig of an Orange is his: he
has nothing to live on but being governor to one of
the duke of Queensberry's sons for forty pounds
a-year. The fine fellows are always inviting him
to the tavern, and make him pay his club. Henley
is a great crony of his: they are often at the tavern
at six or seven shillings reckoning, and always make
the poor lad pay his full share. A colonel and a
lord were at him and me the same way to-night: I
absolutely refused, and made Harrison lag behind,
12. I dined to-day with Dr. Garth and Mr. and persuaded him not to go to them. I tell you
Addison, at the Devil Tavern, by Temple Bar, and this, because I find all rich fellows have that humour
Garth treated; and it is well I dine every day, else of using all people without any consideration of their
I should be longer making out my letters: for we fortunes; but I will see them rot before they shall
are yet in a very dull state, only inquiring every day serve me so. Lord Halifax is always teazing me to
after new elections, where the Tories carry it among go down to his country house, which will cost me a
the new members six to one. Mr. Addison's elec- guinea to his servants, and twelve shillings coach-
tion [for Malmesbury] has passed easy and undis-hire; and he shall be hanged first. Is not this a
puted; and I believe if he had a mind to be chosen
king he would hardly be refused. An odd accident
has happened at Colchester: one captain Lavallin,
coming from Flanders or Spain, found his wife with
child by a clerk of Doctors' Commons, whose trade,
you know, it is to prevent fornication; and this clerk
was the very same fellow that made the discovery of
Dyot's counterfeiting the stamp-paper. Lavallin
has been this fortnight hunting after the clerk to
kill him; but the fellow was constantly employed
at the treasury about the discovery he made: the
wife had made a shift to patch up the business,
alleging that the clerk had told her her husband was
dead, and other excuses; but the other day some-
body told Lavallin his wife had intrigues before he
married her: upon which he goes down in a rage,
shoots his wife through the head, then falls on his
sword; and, to make the matter sure, at the same
time discharges a pistol through his own head, and
died on the spot, his wife surviving him about two
hours; but in what circumstances of mind and body
is terrible to imagine. I have finished my poem
on the Shower, all but the beginning, and am going
on with my Tatler. They have fixed about fifty
things on me since I came: I have printed but
three. One advantage I get by writing to you
daily, or rather you get, is that I remember not to
write the same things twice; and yet I fear I have
done it often already but I will mind and confine
See Journal, October 5th.
plaguy silly story? But I am vexed at the heart
for I love the young fellow, and am resolved to stir
up people to do something for him: he is a Whig,
and I will put him upon some of my cast Whigs;
for I have done with them, and they have I hope
done with this kingdom for our time. They were
sure of the four members for London above all
places, and they have lost three in the four. Sir
Richard Onslow we hear hast lost for Surrey; and
they are overthrown in most places. Lookee, gen-
tlewomen, if I write long letters I must write you
news and stuff, unless I send you my verses, and
some I dare not; and those on the Shower in Lon-
don I have sent to the Tatler [vol. x.], and you
may see them in Ireland. I fancy you will smoke
me in the Tatler [No. 258] I am going to write;
for I believe I have told you the hint. I had a
letter sent me to-night from sir Matthew Dudley,
and found it on my table when I came in. Because
it is extraordinary I will transcribe it from begin-
ning to end. It is as follows:-[" Is the devil in
you? Oct. 13, 1710."] I would have answered
every particular passage in it, only I wanted time.
Here is enough for to-night, such as it is, &c.
14. Is that tobacco at the top of the paper, or
what? I do not remember I slobbered. "Lord, I
A French protestant refugee; the same who lost the battle
of Almanza.
By Swift's interest promoted to a secretaryship, under
lord Raby, ambassador at Utrecht.
;
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
147
ს
dreamed of Stella, &c., so confusedly last night, and
that we saw dean Bolton and Sterne go into a
shop; and she bid me call them to her, and they
proved to be two parsons I knew not; and I walked
without till she was shifting, and such stuff, mixed
with much melancholy and uneasiness, and things
not as they should be, and I know not how; and it
is now an ugly gloomy morning.
gloomy morning. At night.-Mr.
Addison and I dined with Ned Southwell, and
walked in the park; and at the coffeehouse I found
a letter from the bishop of Clogher, and a packet
from MI). I opened the bishop's letter; but put up
MD's, and visited a lady just come to town, and am
now got into bed, and going to open your little
letter and God send I may find MD well, and
happy, and merry, and that they love Presto as they
do fires. O, I will not open it yet! yes I will! no
I will not; I am going; I cannot stay till I turn
over:ª what shall I do? my fingers itch and I now
have it in my left hand; and now I will open it this
very moment.-I have just got it, and am cracking
the seal, and cannot imagine what is in it; I fear
only some letter from a bishop, and it comes too
late: I shall employ nobody's credit but my own.
Well, I see though-Pshaw, it is from sir Andrew
Fountaine what, another! I fancy that is from
Mrs. Barton; she told me she would write to me;
but she writes a better hand than this: I wish you
would inquire; it must be at Dawson's office at
the castle. I fear this is from Patty Rolt, by the
scrawl. Well, I will read MD's letter. Ah, no; it is
from poor lady Berkeley, to invite me to Berkeley
castle this winter; and now it grieves my heart:
she says she hopes my lord is in a fair way of reco-
very poor lady. Well, now I go to MD's letter:
faith it is all right; I hoped it was wrong.
Your
letter, No. 3, that I have now received, is dated
Sept. 26, and Manley's letter, that I had five days
ago, was dated Oct. 3, that is a fortnight's differ-
ence: I doubt it has lain in Steele's office, and he
forgot. Well, there is an end of that: he is turned
out of his place; and you must desire those who
send me packets to enclose them in a paper di-
rected to Mr. Addison, at St. James's coffeehouse:
not common letters, but packets: the bishop of
Clogher may mention it to the archbishop when he
sees him. As for your letter, it makes me mad:
flidikins, I have been the best boy in Christendom,
and you come with your two eggs a-penny.-Well ;
but stay, I will look over my book; adad, I think
there was a chasm between my No. 2 and No. 3.
Faith, I will not promise to write to you every
week; but I will write every night, and when it is
full I will send it; that will be once in ten days,
and that will be often enough: and if you begin to
take up the way of writing to Presto, only because it
is Tuesday, a Monday bedad, it will grow a task :
but write when you have a mind.-No, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no.-Agad, agad, agad, agad, agad,
agad; no, poor Stellakins. Slids, I would the horse
were in your-chamber. Have I not ordered Par-
visol to obey your directions about him? and have
not I said in my former letters, that you may pickle
him, and boil him if you will? What do you trouble
me about your horses for? Have I anything to do
with them!-Revolutions a hindrance to me in my
business; revolutions-to me in my business? if it
were not for the revolutions I could do nothing at
all; and now I have all hopes possible, though one is
"That is, to the next page.
Nieco to sir Isaac Newton, and widow of colonel Barton.
A favourite among the toasts of the Kit-cat Club.
Joshua Dawson, esq., socrotary to the lord justices of
Ireland.
1
I
certain of nothing; but to-morrow I am to have an
answer, and am promised an effectual one.
suppose I have said enough in this and a former
letter how I stand with new people; ten times
better than ever I did with the old; forty times
more caressed. I am to dine to-morrow at Mr.
Harley's; and if he continues as he has begun, no
man has been ever better treated by another. What
you say about Stella's mother, I have spoken enough
to it already. I believe she is not in town; for I
have not yet seen her. My lampoon is cried up to
the skies; but nobody suspects me for it, except sir
Andrew Fountaine at least they say nothing of it
Did not I tell you of a great man who re-
ceived me very coldly? [lord Godolphin] that is
he; but say nothing; it was only a little revenge:
I will remember to bring it over. The bishop of
Clogher has smoked my Tatler [No. 230] about
shortening of words, &c. But, God so! &c.
to me.
He
Mr.
15. I will write plainer, if I can remember it;
for Stella must not spoil her eyes, and Dingley can-
not read my hand very well; and I am afraid my
letters are too long: then you must suppose one to
be two, and read them at twice. I dined to-day
with Mr. Harley: Mr. Prior dined with us.
has left my memorial with the queen, who has con-
sented to give the first-fruits and twentieth parts,
and will, we hope, declare it to-morrow in the
cabinet. But I beg you to tell it to no person alive ;
for so I am ordered, till in public; and I hope to
get something of greater value. After dinner came
in lord Peterborow: we renewed our acquaintance,
and he grew mightily fond of me. They began to
talk of a paper of verses called Sid Hamet.
Harley repeated part, and then pulled them out,
and gave them to a gentlemen at the table to read,
though they had all read them often: lord Peter-
borow would let nobody read them but himself: so
he did; and Mr. Harley bobbed me at every line to
take notice of the beauties. Prior rallied lord
Peterborow for author of them; and lord Peter-
borow said he knew them to be his; and Prior
then turned it upon me, and I on him. I am not
guessed at all in town to be the author; yet so it is:
but that is a secret only to you. Ten to one whether
you see them in Ireland; yet here they run prodi-
giously. Harley presented me to lord president of
Scotland, and Mr. Benson, a lord of the treasury.
Prior and I came away at nine, and sat at the
Smyrna till eleven, receiving acquaintance.
રી
16. This morning early I went in a chair, and
Patrick before it, to Mr. Harley, to give him
another copy of my memorial, as he desired; but he
was full of business, going to the queen, and I could
not see him; but he desired I would send up the
paper, and excused himself upon his hurry. I was
a little baulked, but they tell me it is nothing. I
shall judge by my next visit. I tipped his porter with
a half-crown; and so I am well there for a time at
least; I dined at Stratford's in the city, and had
Burgundy and tokay: came back a-foot like a
scoundrel; then went to Mr. Addison, and supped
with lord Mountjoy, which made me sick all night.
I forgot that I bought six pounds of chocolate for
Stella, and a little wooden box; and I have a great
piece of Brazil tobacco for Dingley, and a bottle of
palsy-water for Stella; all which, with the two
handkerchiefs that Mr. Sterne has bought, and you
must pay him for, will be put in the box directed to
Mrs. Curry's, and sent by Dr. Hawkshaw, whom
have not seen: but Sterne has undertaken it. The
Dalrymple, lord president of the court of session.
The miscarriage of this box is matter of subsequent specu-
lation.
L 2
148
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
chocolate is a present, madam, for Stella. Do not
read this, you little rogue, with your little eyes;
but give it to Dingley, pray now; and I will write
as plain as the skies: and let Dingley write Stella's
part, and Stella dictate to her, when she apprehends
her eyes, &c.
17. This letter should have gone this post, if I
had not been taken up with business, and two nights
being late out, so it must stay till Thursday. I dined
to-day with your Mr. Sterne, by invitation, and
drank Irish wine [claret]; but before we parted
there came in the prince of puppies, colonel Edg-
worth; so I went away. This day came out the
Tatler, made up wholly of my Shower, and a pre-
face to it [No. 238]. They say it is the best thing
I ever writ, and I think so too. I
suppose the
bishop of Clogher will show it you. Pray tell
me how you like it. Tooke is going on with my
miscellany. I would give a penny the letter to the
bishop of Killaloe was in it: it would do him
honour. Could not you contrive to say you hear
they are printing my things together, and that you
wish the bookseller had that letter among the rest?
but do not say anything of it as from me. I forgot
whether it was good or no; but only having heard
it much commended, perhaps it may deserve it.
Well, I have to-morrow to finish this letter in, and
then I will send it next day. I am so vexed that
you should write your 3rd to me, when had but
my 2nd, and I had written five, which now I hope
you have all: and so I tell you, you are saucy, little,
pretty, dear rogues, &c.
you
of Irish wine.
mond], but the porter answered they were not at
home; the meaning was, the youngest, lady Mary,
is to be married to-morrow to lord Ashburnham,
the best match now in England, twelve thousand
pounds a-year, and abundance of money. Tell me
how my Shower is liked in Ireland: I never knew
anything pass better here. I spent the evening with
Wortley Montague and Mr. Addison, over a bottle
Do they know anything in Ireland
of my greatness among the Tories? Everybody re-
Have
proaches me of it here; but I value them not.
you heard of the verses about the Rod of Sid Hamet?
Say nothing of them for your life. Hardly anybody
suspects me for them, only they think nobody but
Prior or I could write them. But I doubt they have
not reached you. There is likewise a ballad, full of
puns, on the Westminster election, that cost me half
an hour: it runs, though it be good for nothing.
But this is likewise a secret to all but MD. If
have them not, I will bring them over.
:
18. To day I dined, by invitation, with Strat-ling, a Scotch lord
ford and others, at a young merchant's in the city,
with hermitage and tokay, and staid till nine, and
am now come home. And that dog Patrick is
abroad, and drinking, and I cannot get my night-
I have a mind to turn that puppy away:
gown.
he has been drunk ten times in three weeks. But
I had not time to say more; so good night, &c.
19. I am come home from dining in the city with
Mr. Addison, at a merchant's: and just now, at the
coffeehouse, we have notice that the duke of Or-
mond was this day declared lord-lieutenant at
Hampton Court, in council [in room of the earl of
Wharton]. I have not seen Mr. Harley since; but
hope the affair is done about first-fruits. I will
see him, if possible, to-morrow morning: but this
goes to-night. I have sent a box to Mr. Sterne, to
send to you by some friend; I have directed it for
Mr. Curry at his house; so you have warning when
it comes, as I hope it will soon. The handkerchiefs
will be put in some friend's pocket, not to pay cus-
tom. And so here ends my 6th, sent when I had
but three of MD's; now I am beforehand, and will
keep so; and God Almighty bless dearest MD,
&c.
LETTER THE SEVENTH.
London, Oct. 19, 1710.
O FAITH, I am undone! this paper is larger than the
other, and yet I am condemned to a sheet; but
since it is MD, I did not value though I were con-
demned to a pair. I told you in a letter to-day
where I had been, and how the day passed; and so,
&c.
20. To-day I went to Mr. Lewis, at the secretary's
office, to know when I might see Mr. Harley; and
by-and-bye comes up Mr. Harley himself, and ap-
points me to dine with him to-morrow. I dined
with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and went to wait on the
two lady Butlers [daughters of the duke of Or-
you
I know
21. I got MD's 4th to-day at the coffeehouse.
God Almighty bless poor Stella, and her eyes and
head what shall we do to cure them, poor dear
life? Your disorders are a pull-back for your good
qualities. Would to heaven I were this minute
shaving your poor dear head, either here or there.
Pray do not write, nor read this letter, nor anything
else, and I will write plainer for Dingley to read
from henceforward, though my pen is apt to ramble
I will not answer
when I think who I am writing to.
your letter until I tell you that I dined this day with
Mr. Harley, who presented me to the earl of Ster-
ling, a Scotch lord; and in the evening came in
lord Peterborow. I stayed till nine before Mr.
Harley would let me go, or tell me anything of my
affair. He says the queen has now granted the
first-fruits and twentieth parts; but he will not yet
give me leave to write to the archbishop, because
the queen designs to signify it to the bishops in Ire-
land in form, and to take notice that it was done
upon a memorial from me, which Mr. Harley tells
me he does to make it look more respectful to me,
&c. And I am to see him on Tuesday.
not whether I told you that, in my memorial which
was given to the queen, I begged for two thousand
pounds a-year more, though it was not in my com-
mission; but that Mr. Harley says cannot yet be
done, and that he and I must talk of it further:
however, I have started it, and it may follow in time.
Pray say nothing of the first-fruits being granted,
unless I give leave at the bottom of this. I believe
never anything was compassed so soon, and purely
done by my personal credit with Mr. Harley, who
is so excessively obliging, that I know not what to
make of it, unless to show the rascals of the other
party that they used a man unworthily who had de-
served better. The memorial given to the queen
from me speaks with great plainness of lord Wharton.
I believe this business is as important to you as the
convocation disputes from Tisdall. I hope in a
month or two all the forms of settling this matter
will be over, and then I shall have nothing to do
here. I will only add one foolish thing more, be-
When this
cause it is just come into my head.
thing is made known, tell me impartially whether
they give any of the merit to me or no; for I am
sure I have so much that I will never take it upon
me.-Insolent sluts! because I say Dublin, Ireland,
therefore you must say London, England: that is
Stella's malice.-Well, for that I will not answer
your letter till to-morrow day; and so, and so, I will
go write something else, and it will not be much;
for it is late.
a The Rev. Mr. Tisdall, an admirer of Stella.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
149
22. I was this morning with Mr. Lewis, the
Lewis, the
under-secretary to lord Dartmouth, two hours, talk-
ing politics, and contriving to keep Steele in his
office of stamped paper: he has lost his place of
gazetteer, three hundred pounds a-year, for writing
a Tatler, some months ago, against Mr. Harley,
who gave it him at first, and raised the salary from
sixty to three hundred pounds. This was devilish
ungrateful; and Lewis was telling me the particu-
lars but I had a hint given me that I might save
him in the other employment; and leave was given
me to clear matters with Steele. Well, I dined with
sir Matthew Dudley, and in the evening went to
sit with Mr. Addison, and offer the matter at dis-
tance to him, as the discreeter person; but found
party had so possessed him, that he talked as if he
suspected me, and would not fall in with anything
I said. So I stopped short in my overture, and we
parted very drily; and I shall say nothing to Steele,
and let them do as they will; but if things stand as
they are, he will certainly lose it, unless I save him;
and therefore I will not speak to him, that I may
not report to his disadvantage. Is not this vexa-
tious? and is there so much in the proverb of prof-
fered service? When shall I grow wise? I en-
deavoured to act in the most exact points of honour
and conscience, and my nearest friends will not un-
derstand it so. What must a man expect from his
enemies? This would vex me, but it shall not; and
so I bid you good night, &c.
23. I know it is neither wit nor diversion to tell
you every day where I dine, neither do I write it to
fill my letter; but
but I fancy I shall, some time or
other, have the curiosity of seeing some particulars
how I passed my life when I was absent from MD
this time; and so I tell you now that I dined to-
day at Molesworth's the Florence envoy; then went
to the coffeehouse, where I behaved myself coldly
enough to Mr. Addison, and so came home to
scribble. We dine together to-morrow and next
day by invitation; but I shall alter my behaviour to
him, till he begs my pardon, or else we shall grow
bare acquaintance. I am weary of friends, and
friendships are all monsters but MD's.
24. I forgot to tell you that last night I went to
Mr. Harley's hoping-faith, I am blundering, for it
was this very night at six; and I hoped he would
have told me all things were done and granted; but
he was abroad, and came home ill, and was gone to
bed, much out of order, unless the porter lied. I
dined to day at sir Matthew Dudley's with Mr.
Addison, &c.
25. I was to-day to see the duke of Ormond; and,
coming out, met lord Berkeley of Stratton, who told
me that Mrs. Temple, the widow, died last Saturday,
which, I suppose, is much to the outward grief and
inward joy of the family. I dined to-day with Mr.
Addison and Steele, and a sister of Mr. Addison,
who is married to one Mons. Sartre, a Frenchman,
prebendary of Westminster, who has a delicious
house and garden; yet I thought it was a sort of a
monastic life in those cloisters, and I liked Laracor
better. Addison's sister is a sort of a wit, very like
him. I am not fond of her, &c.
26. I was to-day to see Mr. Congreve, who is
almost blind with cataracts growing on his eyes;
and his case is, that he must wait two or three
years until the cataracts are riper, and till he is
quite blind, and then he must have them couched;
and besides he is never rid of the gout, yet he looks
young and fresh, and is as cheerful as ever. He is
younger by three years or more than I, and I am
b
"The celebrated dramatic writer, a friend of the dean's.
b Congreve was born in the year 1679.
|
twenty years younger than he. He gave me a pain
in the great toe, by mentioning the gout. I find
such suspicions frequently, but they go off again. I
had a second letter from Mr. Morgan; for which I
thank you: I wish you were whipped for forgetting
to send him that answer I desired you in one of my
former, "that I could do nothing for him of what
he desired, having no credit at all," &c. Go, be far
enough, you negligent baggages. I have had also a
letter from Parvisol, with an account how many
livings are set, and that they are fallen, since last
year, sixty pounds. A comfortable piece of news!
He tells me plainly that he finds you have no mind
to part with the horse, because you sent for him at
the same time you sent him my letter; so that I
know not what must be done. It is a sad thing
that Stella must have her own horse, whether Par-
visol will or not! So now to answer your letter
that I had three or four days ago. I am not now
in bed, but am come home by eight; and it being
warm, I write up. I never writ to the bishop of
Killala, which I suppose was the reason he had not
my letter.
I have not time, that is the short of
it. As fond as the dean is of my letter, he has not
written to me. I would only know whether dean
Boltona paid him the twenty pounds; and for the
rest, he may kiss And that you may ask him,
because I am in pain about it, that dean Bolton is
such a whipster. It is the most obliging thing in the
world in dean Sterne to be so kind to you. I be-
lieve he knows it will please me, and makes up,
that way, his other usage. No, we have had none
of your snow, but a little one morning; yet I think
it was great snow for an hour or so, but no longer.
I had heard of Will Crowe's death before, but not
the foolish circumstance that hastened his end. No,
I have taken care that captain Pratt shall not suffer
by lord Anglesea's death. I will try some con-
trivance to get a copy of my picture from Jervas. I
will make sir Andrew Fountaine buy one as for
himself, and I will pay him again and take it, that
is, provided I have money to spare when I leave
this. Poor John! is he gone? and Madam Parvisol
has been in town? Humm.
Humm. Why,
Why, Tighe and I,
when he comes, shall not take any notice of each
other; I would not do it much in this town, though
we had not fallen out.-I was to-day at Mr. Sterne's
lodging; he was not within, and Mr. Leigh is not
come to town, but I will do Dingley's errand when
I see him. What do I know whether china be dear
or no? I once took a fancy of resolving to grow mad
for it, but now it is off: I suppose I told you so in
some former letter. And so you only want some
sallad-dishes, and plates, and, &c. Yes, yes, you
shall. I suppose you have named as much as will
cost five pounds.-Now to Stella's little postcript;
and I am almost crazed that you rex yourself for not
writing. Cannot you dictate to Dingley, and not
strain your little dear eyes I am sure it is the
grief of my soul to think you are out of order.
Pray be quiet, and if you will write, shut your eyes,
and write just a line, and no more, thus [How do
you do, Mrs. Stella?]: that was written with my eyes
shut. Faith, I think it is better than when they are
open and then Dingley may stand by, and tell you
when you go too high or too low.-My letters of
business, with packets, if there be any more occa-
sion for such, must be enclosed to Mr. Addison, at St.
James's Coffeehouse: but I hope to hear, as soon as
I see Mr. Harley, that the main difficulties are over,
This gentleman, as well as Swift, was chaplain to lord
Berkeley when lord-lieutenant; and promoted to the deanery
of Derry, upon Swift declining, with the utmost contempt and
scorn, to give a large bribe demanded by Bushe, lord
Berkeley's secretary.
150
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
and that the rest will be but form.-Take two or
three nutgalls, take two or three-galls, stop your
receipt in your--I have no need on't. Here is a
clutter! Well, so much for your letter, which I will
now put up in my letter-partition in my cabinet, as
I always do every letter as soon as I answer it.
Method is good in all things. Order governs the
world. The devil is the author of confusion. A
A
general of an army, a minister of state; to descend
lower-a gardener, a weaver, &c. That may make a
fine observation, if you think it worth finishing; but
I have not time. Is not this a terrible long piece
for one evening? I dined to-day with Patty Rolt
at my cousin Leach's, with a pox, in the city he is
a printer, and prints the Postman [a Tory news-
paper]; oh oh, and is my cousin, God knows how,
and he married Mrs. Baby Aires of Leicester;
and my cousin Thompson was with us; and
my cousin Leach offers to bring me acquainted with
the author of the Postman, and says, "he does not
doubt but the gentleman will be glad of my ac-
quaintance, and that he is a very ingenious man,
and a great scholar, and has been beyond sea."
But I was modest, and said, "may be the gentle-
man was shy, and not fond of new acquaintance ;"
and so put it off: and I wish you could hear me re
peating all I have said of this in its proper tone,
just as I am writing it. It is all with the same
cadence with oh hoo, or as when little girls say,
have got an apple, miss, and I won't give you some.
It is plaguy twelvepenny weather this last week,
and has cost me ten shillings in coach and chair
hire. If the fellow that has your money will pay it,
let me beg you to buy bank stock with it, which is
fallen near thirty per cent., and pays eight pounds
per cent., and you have the principal when you
please it will certainly soon rise. I would to God
lady Giffard would put in the four hundred pounds
she owes you, and take the five per cent. common
interest, and give you the remainder. I will speak
to your mother about it when I see her. I am re-
solved to buy three hundred pounds of it for myself,
and take up what I have in Ireland; I have a con-
trivance for it, that I hope will do, by making a
friend of mine buy it as for himself, and I will pay
him when I get in my money. I hope Stratford
will do me that kindness. I will ask him to-mor-
row or next day.
I
27. Mr. Rowe the poet desired me to dine with
him to-day. I went to his office (he is under-
secretary in Mr. Addison's place that he had in
England), and there was Mr. Prior; and they both
fell commending my Shower beyond anything that
has been written of the kind: there never was such
a Shower since Danaë's, &c. You must tell me how
it is liked among you. I dined with Rowe; Prior
could not come and after dinner we went to a blind
tavern where Congreve, sir Richard Temple, East-
court, and Charles Main, were over a bowl of bad
punch. The knight sent for six flasks of his own
wine for me, and we stayed till twelve.
But now
my head continues pretty well, I have left off my
drinking, and only take a spoonful mixed with
water, for fear of the gout, or some ugly distemper;
and now, because it is late, I will, &c.
28. Garth and Addison and I dined to-day at a
hedge tavern; then I went to Mr. Harley, but he
was denied or not at home; so I fear I shall not
hear my business is done before this goes. Then I
visited lord Pembroke, who is just come to town,
and we were very merry talking of old things, and I
hit him with one pun. Then I went to the ladies
Butler, and the son of a whore of a porter denied
them; so I sent them a threatening message by
another lady for not excepting me always to the
porter. I was weary of the coffeehouse, and Ford
desired me to sit with him at next door, which I did
like a fool chattering till twelve, and now am got
into bed. I am afraid the new ministry is at a terri-
ble loss about money: the Whigs talk so it would
give one the spleen, and I am afraid of meeting Mr.
Harley out of humour. They think he will never
carry through this undertaking. God knows what
will become of it. I should be terribly vexed to see
things come round again; it will ruin the church
I will
and clergy for ever; but I hope for better.
send this on Tuesday, whether I hear any further
news of my affair or not.
29. Mr. Addison and I dined to-day with lord
Mountjoy; which is all the adventures of this day.
I chatted a while to-night in the coffeehouse, this
being a full night; and now am come home to write.
some business.
4
30. I dined to-day at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, and
sent a letter to poor Mrs. Long, who writes to us,
but is God knows where, and will not tell anybody
the place of her residence. I came home early, and
must go write.
31. The month ends with a fine day; and I have
been walking and visiting Lewis, and concerting
where to see Mr. Harley. I have no news to send
you. Aire, they say, is taken, though the White-
hall letters this morning say quite the contrary; it
is good if it be true. I dined with Mr. Addison
and Dick Stuart, lord Mountjoy's brother, a treat
of Addison's. They were half fuddled, but not I;
for I mixed water with my wine, and left them
together between nine and ten; and I must send
this by the bellman, which vexes me, but I will put
it off no longer. Pray God it does not mis-
carry. I seldom do so; but I can put off little MD
no longer. Pray give the under note to Mrs. Brent.
I am a pretty gentleman; and you lose all your
I found you out; I
money at cards, sirrah Stella.
did so.
I am staying before I can fold up this letter till
Do not
that ugly D is dry in the last line but one.
you see it? O Lord, I am loth to leave you, faith-
but it must be so till next time. Pox take that D;
I will blot it to dry it.
LETTER THE EIGHTH.
London, Oct. 31, 1710.
So, now I have sent my 7th to your 4th, young
women; and now I will tell you what I would
not in my last, that this morning sitting in my bed
I had a fit of giddiness: the room turned round for
about a minute, and then it went off, leaving me
sickish, but not very: and so I passed the day as I
told you; but I would not end a letter with telling
you this, because it might vex you: and I hope in
God I shall have no more of it. I saw Dr. Cock-
burn to-day, and he promises to send me the pills
that did me good last year, and likewise has pro-
mised me an oil for my ear, that he has been making
for that ailment for somebody else.
November 1. I wish MD a merry new year. You
I had no
know this is the first day of it with us.
giddiness to-day, but I drank brandy, and have
bought a pint for two shillings. I sat up the night
before my giddiness pretty late, and writ very much;
so I will impute it to that. But I never eat fruit,
nor drink ale, but drink better wine than you do, as
I did to-day with Mr. Addison at lord Mountjoy's:
then went at five to see Mr. Harley, who could not
see me for much company; but sent me his excuse,
and desired I would dine with him on Friday; and
then I expect some answer to this business, which
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
151
must either be soon done or begun again; and then
the duke of Ormond and his people will interfere
for their honour and do nothing. I came home at
six and spent my time in my chamber, without
going to the coffeehouse, which I grow weary of;
and I studied at leisure, writ not above forty lines,
some inventions of my own, and some hints, and
read not at all, and this because I would take care
of Presto, for fear little MD should be angry.
2. I took my four pills last night, and they lay an
hour in my throat, and so they will do to-night.
suppose I could swallow four affronts as easily. I
dined with Dr. Cockburn to-day, and came home at
seven; but Mr. Ford has been with me till just now,
and it is near eleven. I have had no giddiness to-
day. Mr. Dopping I have seen, and he tells me
coldly my Shower is liked well enough; there is
your Irish judgment. I writ this post to the bishop
of Clogher. It is now just a fortnight since I heard
from you.
I must have you write once a fortnight,
and then I will allow for wind and weather. How
goes ombre? does Mrs. Walls win constantly as she
used to do; and Mrs. Stoyte? I have not thought of
her this long time; how does she? I find we have
a cargo of Irish coming for London: I am sorry for
it, but I never go near them. And Tighe is landed;
but Mrs. Wesley, they say, is going home to her
husband like a fool. Well, little monkeys mine, I
must go write; and so good night.
3. I ought to read these letters I write after I have
done; for looking over thus much I found two or
three literal mistakes, which should not be when
the hand is so bad. But I hope it does not puzzle
little Dingley to read, for I think I mend: but me-
thinks when I write plain, I do not know how, but
we are not alone, all the world can see us. A bad
scrawl is so snug, it looks like a PMD. We have
scurvy Tatlers of late, so pray do not suspect me.
I have one or two hints I design to send him, and
never any more; he does not deserve it. He is
governed by his wife most abominably, as bad as
I never saw her since I came; nor has he
ever made me an invitation; either he dares not, or
is such a thoughtless Tisdall fellow that he never
minds it. So what care I for his wit? for he is the
worst company in the world till he has a bottle of
wine in his head. I cannot write straighter in bed,
so you must be content. At night in bed.-Stay,
let me see where is this letter to MD among these
papers? oh! here. Well, I will go on now; but I
am very busy (smoke the new pen). I dined with
Mr. Harley to-day, and am invited there again on
Sunday. I have now leave to write to the primate
and archbishop of Dublin, that the queen has
granted the first fruits; but they are to take no
notice of it till a letter is sent them by the queen's
order from lord Dartmouth, secretary of state, to
signify it. The bishops are to be made a corpora-
tion to dispose of the revenue, &c., and I shall write
to the archbishop of Dublin to-morrow (I have had
no giddiness to-day). I know not whether they will
have any occasion for me longer to be here; nor can
I judge till I see what letter the queen sends to the
bishops, and what they will do upon it. If despatch
be used, it may be done in six weeks; but I cannot
judge. They sent me to-day a new commission,
signed by the primate and archbishop of Dublin,
and promise me letters to the two archbishops here;
but mine a- for it all. The thing is done, and has
been so these ten days; though I had only leave to
tell it to-day. I had this day likewise a letter from
Alluding to the language in their own familiar conversa-
n
tion.
|
the bishop of Clogher, who complains of my not
writing; and, what vexes me, says he knows you
have long letters from me every week. Why do you
tell him so? it is not right, faith: but I will not be
angry with MD at a distance. I writ to him last
post, before I had his, and will write again soon,
since I see he expects it, and that lord and lady
Mountjoy put him off upon me to give themselves
ease. Lastly, I had this day a letter from a certain
naughty rogue called MD, and it was No. 5, which
I shall not answer to-night I thank you. No, faith,
I have other fish to fry; but to-morrow or next day
will be time enough. I have put MD's commissions
in a memorandum paper. I think I have done all
before, and remember nothing but this to-day about
glasses, and spectacles, and spectacle-cases. I have
no commission from Stella, but the chocolate and
handkerchiefs; and those are bought, and I expect
they will be soon sent. I have been with, and sent
to, Mr. Sterne, two or three times to know, but he
was not within. Odds, my life, what am I doing?
I must go write, and do business.
4. I dined to-day at Kensington, with Addison,
Steele, &c. ; came home, and writ a short letter to the
archbishop of Dublin, to let him know the queen
has granted the thing, &c. I writ in the coffee-
house, for I stayed at Kensington till nine, and am
plaguy weary; for colonel Proud was very ill com-
pany, and I will never be of a party with him again :
and I drank punch, and that and ill company has
made me hot.
5. I was with Mr. Harley from dinner to seven
this night, and went to the coffeehouse, where
Dr. Davenant [son of the celebrated sir William]
would fain have had me gone and drink a bottle of
wine at his house hard by, with Dr. Chamberlain ;
but the puppy used so many words, that I was afraid
of his company; and, though we promised to come
at eight, I sent a messenger to him, that Chamber-
lain was going to a patient, and therefore we would
put it off till another time: so he, and the comp-
troller, and I, were prevailed on by sir Matthew
Dudley to go to his house, where I stayed till twelve,
and left them. Davenant has been teasing me to
look over some of his writings that he is going to
publish, but the rogue is so fond of his own produc-
tions, that I hear he will not part with a syllable;
and he has lately put out a foolish pamphlet, called,
"The Third Part of Tom Double," to make his
court to the Tories, whom he had left.
6. I was to-day gambling in the city to see Patty
Rolt, who is going to Kingston, where she lodges;
but, to say the truth, I had a mind for a walk to ex-
ercise myself, and happened to be disengaged; for
dinners are ten times more plentiful with me here
than ever, or than in Dublin. I will not answer
your letter yet, because I am busy. I hope to send
this before I have another from MD: it would
be a sad thing to answer two letters together, as
MD does from Presto. But when the two sides are
full, away the letter shall go, that is certain, like it
or not like it; and that will be about three days
hence, for the answering night will be a long one.
7. I dined to-day at sir Richard Temple's with
Congreve, Vanbrugh, lieutenant-general Farring-
ton, &c. Vanbrugh, I believe I told you, had a long
quarrel with me about those verses on his house;
but we were very civil and cold. Lady Marlborough
used to tease him with them, which had made him
angry, though he be a good-natured fellow. It was a
thanksgiving day, and I was at court, where the
queen passed by us with all Tories about her; not
one Whig: Buckingham, Rochester, Leeds, Shrews-
152
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
bury, Berkeley of Stratton, lord-keeper Harcourt,
Mr. Harley, lord Pembroke, &c., and I have seen
her without one Tory. The queen made me a curtsy,
and said in a sort of familiar way to Presto, "How
does MD?" I considered she was a queen, and
so excused her. I do not miss the Whigs at court,
but have as many acquaintance there as formerly.
:
8. Here is ado and a clutter! I must now answer
MD's 5th; but first you must know I dined at the
Portugal envoy's to-day with Addison, Vanbrugh,
admiral Wager, sir Richard Temple, Methuen, &c.
I was weary of their company, and stole away at
five, and came home like a good boy, and studied
till ten, and had a fire; O ho! and now am in bed.
I have no fireplace in my bedchamber; but it is
very warm weather when one is in bed. Your fine
cap, madam Dingley, is too little and too hot: I
will have that fur taken off; I wish it were far
enough; and my old velvet cap is good for nothing.
Is it velvet under the fur? I was feeling, but cannot
find if it be, it will do without it, else I will face
it; but then I must buy new velvet: but may be I
may beg a piece. What shall I do? well, row to
rogue MD's letter. God be thanked for Stella's
eyes mending; and God send it holds; but faith
you write too much at a time; better write less, or
write it at ten times. Yes, faith, a long letter in a
morning from a dear friend is a dear thing. I smoke
a compliment, little mischievous girls, I do so.
But
who are those wiggs that think I am turned Tory?
Do you mean Whigs? Which wiggs, and what do
you mean?
I know nothing of Raymond, and only
had one letter from him a little after I came here.
(Pray remember Morgan.) Raymond is indeed like
to have much influence over me in London, and to
share much of my conversation. I shall no doubt
introduce him to Harley, and lord-keeper, and the
secretary of state. The Tatler upon Ithuriel's spear
is not mine, madam. What a puzzle there is be-
tween you and your judgment? In general you
may be sometimes sure of things, as that about style,
because it is what I have frequently spoken of; but
guessing is mine a-, and I defy mankind if I please.
and I defy mankind if I please. |
Why, I writ a pamphlet when I was last in Lon-
don, that you and a thousand have seen, and
never guessed it to be mine. Could you have
have
guessed the Shower in Town to be mine? How
chance you did not see that before your last letter
went? But I suppose you in Ireland did not think
it worth mentioning. Nor am I suspected for the
lampoon only Harley said he smoked me, (have I
told you so before?) and some others knew it. It
is called the Rod of Sid Hamet. And I have writ-
ten several other things that I here commended, and
nobody suspects me for them; nor you shall not
know till I see you again. What do you mean,
"That boards near me, that I dine with now and
then?" I know no such person: I do not dine with
boarders. What the pox! You know whom I
have dined with every day since I left you better
than I do. What do you mean, sirrah? Slids, my
ailment has been over these two months almost.
Impudence, if you vex me, I will give ten shillings
I will give ten shillings
a-week for my lodging; for I am almost stunk out
of this with the sink, and it helps me to verses in
my Shower. Well, madam Dingley, what say you
to the world to come? What ballad? Why go
look, it was not good for much: have patience till I
come back; patience is a gay thing as, &c. I hear
nothing of lord Mountjoy's coming for Ireland.
When is Stella's birthday in March? Lord bless
This was, in Swift's language, a
pure bite."
introduced at court.
"
Ho was not
me
How
me, my turn at Christ Church; it is so natural to
hear you write about that, I believe you have done
it a hundred times; it is as fresh in my mind, the
verger coming to you; and why to you? would he
have you preach for me? O, pox on your spelling
of Latin. Jonsonibus atque, that is the way.
did the dean get that name by the end? It was you
betrayed me: not I faith; I will not break his head.
Your mother is still in the country, I suppose, for
she promised to see me when she came to town. I
writ to her four days ago, to desire her to break it
to lady Giffard to put some money for you in the
Bank, which was then fallen thirty per cent. Would
to God mine had been here, I should have gained
one hundred pounds, and got as good interest as in
I would fain have bor-
Ireland, and much securer.
rowed three hundred pounds, but money is so scarce
here, there is no borrowing by this fall of stocks.
It is rising now, and I knew it would: it fell from
one hundred and twenty-nine to ninety-six. I have
not heard since from your mother. Do you think I
would be so unkind not to see her, that you desire
ine in a style so melancholy? Mrs. Raymond you
say is with child: I am sorry for it, and so is, I be-
lieve, her husband. Mr. Harley speaks all the kind
things to me in the world; and I believe would
serve me, if I were to stay here; but I reckon in
time the duke of Ormond may give me some addi-
tion to Laracor. Why should the Whigs think I
came to England to leave them? Sure my journey
was no secret? I protest sincerely I did all I could
to hinder it, as the dean can tell you, although
now I do not repent it. But who the devil cares
what they think? Am I under obligations in the
least to any of them all? Rot them, for ungrateful
dogs; I will make them repent their usage before I
leave this place. They say here the same thing of
my leaving the Whigs; but they own they cannot.
blame me, considering the treatment I have had. I
will take care of your spectacles, as I told you be-
fore, and of the bishop of Killala's; but I will not
write to him, I have not time. What do you mean
by my 4th, madam Dinglibus?
by my 4th, madam Dinglibus? Does not Stella say
you have had my 5th, Goody Blunder? you frighted
me till I looked back. Well, this is enough for one
night. Pray give my humble service to Mrs. Stoyte
and her sister-Kate is it, or Sarah? I have forgot
her name, faith. I think I will even (and to Mrs.
Walls and the archdeacon) send this to morrow:
no faith, that will be in ten days from the last. I
will keep it till Saturday, though I write no more.
But what if a letter from MD should come in the
mean time? why then I would only say, "Madam,
I have received your 6th letter; your most humble
servant to command, Presto ;" and so conclude.
Well, now I will write and think a little, and so to
bed, and dream of MD.
9. I have my mouth full of water, and was going
to spit it out, because I reasoned with myself, how
could I write when my mouth was full. Have not
you done things like that, reasoned wrong at first
thinking? Well, I was to see Mr. Lewis this morn-
ing, and am to dine a few days hence, as he tells mc,
with Mr. secretary St. John, and I must contrive to
see Harley soon again, to hasten this business from
the queen.
I dined to-day at lord Montrath's with
lord Mountjoy, &c., but the wine was not good, so I
came away, stayed at the coffeehouse till seven, then
came home to my fire, the maidenhead of my second
half-bushel, and am now in bed at eleven, as usual.
It is mighty warm; yet I fear I shall catch cold this
wet weather if I sit an evening in my room after
coming from warm places: and I must make much
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
153
of myself, because MD is not here to take care of
Presto; and I am full of business, writing, &c., and
do not care for the coffeehouse; and so this serves
for altogether, not to tell it you over and over, as
silly people do; but Presto is a wiser man, faith,
than so, let me tell you, gentlewomen. See, I am got
to the third side; but, faith, I will not do that often :
but I must say something early to-day, till the
letter is done, and on Saturday it shall go; so
must save something till to-morrow, till to-morrow
and next day.
I
in the world. Prior came in after dinner; and upon
an occasion, he (the secretary) said, the best thing
he ever read is not yours, but Dr. Swift's on Van-
brugh; which I do not reckon so very good neither
But Prior was damped until I stuffed him with two
or three compliments. I am thinking what a vene-
ration we used to have for sir William Temple, be-
cause he might have been secretary of state at fifty;
and here is a young fellow, hardly thirty, in that em-
ployment. His father is a man of pleasure, that
walks the Mall, and frequents St. James's coffee-
house, and the chocolate-houses," and the young son
is principal secretary of state. Is there not some-
thing very odd in that? He told me, among other
things, that Mr. Harley complained he could keep
nothing from me, I had the way so much of getting
into him. I knew that was a refinement; and so I
told him, and it was so: indeed it is hard to see
these great men use me like one who was their bet-
ters, and the puppies with you in Ireland hardly
regarding me: but there are some reasons for all
this, which I will tell you when we meet.
ing home I saw a letter from your mother, in answer
to one I sent her two days ago. It seems she is in
town; but cannot come out in a morning, just as
you said, and God knows when I shall be at leisure
in an afternoon; for if I should send her a penny-
post letter, and afterward not be able to meet her,
it would vex me; and, besides, the days are short,
and why she cannot come early in a morning be-
fore she is wanted I cannot imagine. I will desire
her to let lady Giffard know that she hears I am
in town, and that she would go to see me to in-
I wonder she will confine herself
quire after you.
You know I
so much to that old beast's humour.
pre-
cannot in honour see lady Giffard, and conse-
quently not go into her house. This I think is
enough for the first time.
10. O Lord, I would this letter was with you with
all my heart: if it should miscarry, what a deal
would be lost! I forgot to leave a gap in the last
line but one for the seal, like a puppy; but I should
have allowed for " night, good night:" but when I
am taking leave I cannot leave a bit, faith; but I
fancy the seal will not come there. I dined to-day
at lady Lucy's, where they ran down my Shower;
and said Sid Hamet was the silliest poem they ever
read, and told Prior so, whom they thought to be
the author of it. Do not you wonder I never dined
there before? But I am too busy, and they live too
far off; and besides, I do not like women so much
as I did. [MD, you must know, are not women.]
I supped to-night at Addison's with Garth, Steele,
and Mr. Dopping; and am come home late. Lewis
has sent to me to desire I will dine with some com-
pany I shall like. I suppose it is Mr. secretary St.
John's appointment. I had a letter just now from
Raymond, who is at Bristol, and says he will be at
London in a fortnight, and leave his wife behind
him; and desires any lodging in the house where I
am: but that must not be. I shall not know what
to do with him in town: to be sure I will not
sent him to any acquaintance of mine, and he will
live a delicate life, a parson and a perfect stranger.
Paaast twelvvve o'clock, and so good night, &c. O!
but I forgot, Jemmy Leigh is come to town; says
he has brought Dingley's things, and will send them
by the first convenience. My parcel, I hear, is not
sent yet. He thinks of going for Ireland in a month,
&c. I cannot write to-morrow, because-what, be-
cause of the archbishop; because I will seal my let-
ter early; because I am engaged from noon till
night; because of many kind of things; and yet I
will write one or two words to-morrow morning, to
keep up my journal constant, and at night I will
begin the ninth.
11. Morning by candle-light. You must know
that I am in my night-gown every morning betwixt
six and seven, and Patrick is forced to ply me fifty
times before I can get on my night- gown; and so
now I will take my leave of my own dear MD for
this letter, and begin my next when I come home
at night. God Almighty bless and protect dearest
MD. Farewell, &c.
This letter's as long as a sermon, faith.
LETTER THE NINTH.
London, Nov. 11, 1710.
I DINED to-day, by invitation, with the secretary of
state, Mr. St. John. Mr. Harley came into us be-
fore dinner, and made me his excuses for not dining
with us, because he was to receive people who came
to propose advancing money to the government :
there dined with us only Mr. Lewis, and Dr. Freind
[a celebrated physician and philosopher], that writ
lord Peterborow's actions in Spain. I stayed with
them till just now, between ten and eleven, and was
forced again to give my 8th to the bellman, which I
did with my own hands, rather than keep it till next
post. The secretary used me with all the kindness
At com-
12. And how could you write with such thin
paper? (I forgot to say this in my former.) Cannot
you get thicker? Why, that is a common caution.
that writing-masters give their scholars; you must
have heard it a hundred times. It is this-
If paper be thin, ink will slip in ;
But if it be thick, you may write with a stick.
I had a letter to-day from poor Mrs. Long, giving
me an account of her present life, obscure in a re-
mote country town, and how easy she is under it.
Poor creature! it is just such an alteration in life as
if Presto should be banished from MD, and con-
demned to converse with Mrs. Raymond. I dined
to-day with Ford, sir Richard Levinge, &c., at a
place where they board hard by. I was lazy, and
not very well sitting so long with company yester-
day. I have been very busy writing this evening at
home, and had a fire: I am spending my second half-
bushel of coals; and now am in bed, and it is late.
13. I dined to-day in the city, and then went to
christen Will Frankland's child; and lady Falcon-
bridge was one of the godmothers: this is a daugh-
ter of Oliver Cromwell, and extremely like him by
his pictures that I have scen. I stayed till almost
eleven, and am now come home and gone to bed.
My business in the city was to thank Stratford for
a kindness he has done me, which now I will tell
you. I found bank stock was fallen thirty-four in
the hundred, and was mighty desirous to buy it; but
I was a little too late for the cheapest time, being
hindered by business here; for I was so wise to
guess to a day when it would fall. My project was
this I had three hundred pounds in Ireland; and
so I writ Mr. Stratford in the city, to desire he
would buy me three hundred pounds in bank stock,
a Sir Henry St. John, father of the statesman.
154
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
16. I dined to-day in the city with Mr. Manley,
who invited Mr. Addison and me, and some other
friends, to his lodging, and entertained us very hand-
somely. I returned with Mr. Addison, and loitered
till nine in the coffeehouse, where I am hardly
known by going so seldom. I am here soliciting
for Trounce; you know him: he was gunner in the
former yacht, and would fain be so in the present
one: if you remember him, a good lusty fresh-
coloured fellow. Shall I stay till I get another letter
from MD before I close up this? Mr. Addison and
I meet a little seldomer than formerly, although we
are still at bottom as good friends as ever; but differ
a little about party.
and that he should keep the papers, and that I
would be bound to pay him for them; and if it
should rise or fall I would take my chance, and pay
him interest in the mean time. I showed my letter
to one or two people, who understand those things,
and they said "money was so hard to be got here
that no man would do it for me." However, Strat-
ford, who is the most generous man alive, has done
it: but it cost one hundred pounds and a half—that
is ten shillings, so that three hundred pounds cost
me three hundred pounds and thirty shillings. This
was done about a week ago, and I can have five
pounds for my bargain already. Before it fell it was
one hundred and thirty pounds, and we are sure it
will be the same again. I told you I writ to your 17. To-day I went to Lewis at the secretary's
mother to desire that lady Giffard would do the office, where I saw and spoke to Mr. Harley, who
same with what she owes you; but she tells your promised in a few days to finish the rest of my
mother she has no money. I would to God all you
business. I reproached him for putting me on the
had in the world was there. Whenever you lend necessity of reminding him of it, and rallied him,
money take this rule, to have two people bound, who | &c., which he took very well. I dined to-day with
have both visible fortunes; for they will hardly die one Mr. Gore, elder brother to a young merchant of
together; and, when one dies, you fall upon the my acquaintance, and Stratford, and my other friend
other, and make him add another security. And if merchants dined with us, where I stayed late, drink-
Rathburn (now I have his name) pays you in your ing claret and Burgundy, and am just got to bed, and
money, let me know, and I will direct Parvisol ac-
will say no more, but that it now begins to be time
cordingly however, he shall wait on you and know. to have a letter from my own little MD; for the
So, ladies, enough of business for one night. last I had above a fortnight ago, and the date was
Paaaaast twelvvve o'clock. I must only add, that,
old too.
after a long fit of rainy weather, it has been fair two
or three days, and is this day grown cold and frosty;
so that you must give poor little Presto leave to have
a fire in his chamber morning and evening too, and
he will do as much for you.
14. What, has your chancellor lost his senses, like
Will Crowe? I forgot to tell Dingley that I was
yesterday at Ludgate bespeaking the spectacles at
the great shop there, and shall have them in a day or
two. This has been an insipid day. I dined with
Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and came gravely home, after
just visiting the coffeehouse. Sir Richard Cox, they
Sir Richard Cox, they
say, is sure of going over lord chancellor, who is as
errant a puppy as ever ate bread; but the duke of
Ormond has a natural affection to puppies, which is
a thousand pities, being none himself. I have been
amusing myself at home till now, and in bed bid
you good night.
15. I have been visiting this morning, but nobody
was at home, secretary St. John, sir Thomas Han-
mer, sir Chancellor Coxcomb, &c. I attended the
duke of Ormond with about fifty other Irish gentle-
men at Skinner's-hall, where the Londonderry So-
ciety laid out three hundred pounds to treat us and
his grace with a dinner. Three great tables with the
dessert laid in mighty figure. Sir Richard Levingea
and I got discreetly to the head of the second table,
to avoid the crowd at the first: but it was so cold,
and so confounded a noise with the trumpets and
hautboys, that I grew weary, and stole away before
the second course came on; so I can give you no
account of it, which is a thousand pities, I called
at Ludgate for Dingley's glasses, and shall have
them in a day or two; and I doubt it will cost me
thirty shillings for a microscope, but not without
Stella's permission; for I remember she is a virtuoso.
Shall I buy it or no? It is not the great bulky ones,
nor the common little ones, to impale a louse (saving
your presence) upon a needle's point; but of a more
exact sort, and clearer to the sight, with all its equi-
page in a little trunk that you may carry in your
pocket. Tell me, sirrah, shall I buy it or not for
you? I came home straight, &c.
» Speaker of the house of commons, and lord chief Justice
of the queen's bench in Ireland.
|
18. To-day I dined with Lewis and Prior at an
eating-house, but with Lewis's wine. Lewis went
away, and Prior and I sat on, where we complimented
one another for an hour or two upon our mutual wit
and poetry. Coming home at seven, a gentleman
unknown stopped me in the Pall-mall, and asked
my advice; said he had been to see the queen (who
was just come to town), and the people in waiting
would not let him see her; that he had two hundred
thousand men ready to serve her in the war; that
he knew the queen perfectly well, and had an apart-
ment at court, and if she heard he was there she
would send for him immediately; that she owed
him two hundred thousand pounds, &c.: and he
desired my opinion whether he should go try again
whether he could see her; or because, perhaps, she
was weary after her journey, whether he had not
better stay till to-morrow. I had a mind to get rid
of my companion, and begged him of all love to
wait on her immediately; for that, to my knowledge,
the queen would admit him; that this was an affair
of great importance, and required despatch: and I
instructed him to let me know the success of his
business, and come to the Smyrna Coffeehouse,
where I would wait for him till midnight; and so
ended this adventure. I would fain have given the
man half a crown; but was afraid to offer it him,
lest he should be offended; for, besides his money,
he said he had a thousand pounds a year. I came
home not early, and so, madams both, good night,
&c.
19. I dined to-day with poor lord Mountjoy, who
is ill of the gout; and this evening I christened our
coffeeman Elliot's child;a where the rogue had a most
noble supper, and Steele and I sat among some scurvy
company over a bowl of punch, so that I am come
home late, young women,and cannot stay to write to
little rogues.
20. I loitered at home, and dined with sir Andrew
Fountaine at his lodging, and then came home; a
silly day.
21. I was visiting all this morning, and then went
to the secretary's office, and found Mr. Harley, with
whom I dined, and secretary St. John, &c.; and
"Elliot was keeper of the St. James's Coffeehouse,
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
155
Harley promised in a very few days to finish what
remains of my business. Prior was of the company,
and we all dine at the secretary's to-morrow. I saw
Stella's mother this morning: she came early, and
we talked an hour. I wish you would propose to
lady Giffard to take the three hundred pounds out
of her hands, and give her common interest for life,
and security that you will pay her: the bishop of
Clogher, or any friend, would be security for you, if
you gave them counter-security; and it may be
argued that it will pass better to be in your hands
than hers, in case of mortality, &c. Your mother
says, if you write she will second it; and you may
write to your mother, and then it will come from her.
She tells me lady Giffard has a mind to see me, by
her discourse; but I told her what to say with a ven-
geance. She told lady Giffard she was going to see
me: she looks extremely well. I am writing in my
bed like a tiger, and so good night, &c.
22. I dined with secretary St. John; and lord
Dartmouth, who is the other secretary, dined with
us, and lord Orrery, and Prior, &c. Harley called,
but could not dine with us, and would have had me
away while I was at dinner; but I did not like the
company he was to have. We stayed till eight,
and I called at the coffeehouse, and looked where
the letters lie; but no letter directed for Mr. Presto:
at last I saw a letter to Mr. Addison, and it looked
like a rogue's hand, so I made the fellow give it
me, and opened it before him, and saw three letters
all for myself: so, truly, I put them in my pocket,
and came home to my lodging. Well, and so you
shall hear well, and so I found one of them in
Dingley's hand, and the other in Stella's, and the
third in Domville's. Well, so you shall hear: so,
said I to myself, What now, two letters from MD
together? But I thought there was something in the
wind; so I opened one, and I opened the other;
opened the other;
and so you shall hear, one was from Walls. Well,
but the other was from my own dear MD; yes it
was. O faith, have you received my 7th, young
women, already? then I must send this to-morrow,
else there will be old doings at our house, faith.
Well, I will not answer your letter in this: no faith,
catch me at that, and I never saw the like. Well,
but as to Walls, tell him (with service to him and
wife, &c.) that I have no imagination of Mr. Pratt's
losing his place: and while Pratt continues, Clements
is in no danger; and I have already engaged lord
Hyde he speaks of for Pratt and twenty others;
but if such a thing should happen, I will do what I
can. I have above ten businesses of other people's
now on my hands, and, I believe, shall miscarry in
half. It is your 6th I now have received. I writ
last post to the bishop of Clogher again. Shall I
send this to-morrow? Well, I will, to oblige MD.
Which would you rather, a short letter every week,
or a long one every fortnight? A long one; well, it
shall be done, and so good night. Well, but is this
a long one? No, I warrant you: too long for naughty
girls.
23. I only ask, have you got both the ten pounds,
or only the first; I hope you mean both. Pray be
good housewives, and I beg you to walk when you
can for health. Have you the horse in town? and
do
you ever ride him? how often? Confess. Ahhh,
sirrah, have I caught you? Can you contrive to let
Mrs. Fenton [Swift's sister] know that the request
she has made me in her letter I will use what credit
I have to bring about, although I hear it is very dif-
ficult, and I doubt I shall not succeed. Cox is not
to be your chancellor: all joined against him. I
have been supping with lord Peterborow, at his
house, with Prior, Lewis, and Dr. Freind. It is the
|
ramblingest lying rogue on earth. Dr. Raymond
is come to town: it is late, and so I bid you good
night.
I
24. I tell you pretty management: Ned South-
well told me the other day he had a letter from the
bishops of Ireland, with an address to the duke of
Ormond, to intercede with the queen to take off the
first-fruits. I dined with him to-day, and saw it,
with another letter to him from the bishop of Kil-
dare to call upon me for the papers, &c., and I had
last post one from the archbishop of Dublin, telling
me the reason of this proceeding; that upon hearing
the duke of Ormond was declared lord-lieutenant
they met, and the bishops were for this project,
and talked coldly of my being solicitor, as one that
was favoured by the other party, &c., but desired that
I would still solicit. Now the wisdom of this is ad-
mirable; for I had given the archbishop an account
of my reception from Mr. Harley, and how he had
spoken to the queen, and promised it should be
done; but Mr. Harley ordered me to tell no person
alive. Some time after he gave me leave to let the
primate and archbishop know that the queen had
remitted the first-fruits, and that in a short time
they should have an account of it in form from lord
Dartmouth, secretary of state. So, while their letter
was on the road to the duke of Ormond and South-
well, mine was going to them with an account of
the thing being done. I writ a very warm answer
to the archbishop immediately, and showed my re-
sentment, as I ought, against the bishops, only in
good manners excepting himself. I wonder what
they will say when they hear the thing is done.
was yesterday forced to tell Southwell so, that the
queen had done it, &c., for he said, my lord duke
would think of it some months hence when he was
going for Ireland; and he had it three years in doing
formerly, without any success. I give you free leave
to say, on occasion, that it is done, and that Mr.
Harley prevailed on the queen to do it, &c., as you
please. As I hope to live, I
hope to live, I despise the credit of
it, out of an excess of pride, and desire you will not
give me the least merit when you talk of it; but I
would vex the bishops, and have it spread that Mr.
Harley had done it: pray do so. Your mother sent
me last night a parcel of wax candles, and a band-
box full of small plum-cakes. I thought it had been
something for you; and, without opening them,
sent answer by the maid that brought them, that I
would take care to send the things, &c., but I will
write her thanks. Is this a long letter, sirrahs? Now,
are you satisfied? I have had no fit since the first:
I drink brandy every morning, and take pills every
night. Never fear; I an't vexed at this puppy busi-
ness of the bishops, although I was a little at first.
I will tell you my reward: Mr. Harley will think
he has done me a favour; the duke of Ormond, per-
haps, that I have put a neglect on him; and the
bishops in Ireland that I have done nothing at all.
So goes the world. But I have got above all this,
and perhaps I have better reason for it than they
know: and so you shall hear no more of first-fruits,
dukes, Harleys, archbishops, and Southwells.
So
I have slipped off Raymond upon some of his
countrymen to show him the town, &c., and I lend
him Patrick. He desires to sit with me in the
evenings; upon which I have given Patrick positive
orders that I am not within at evenings.
LETTER THE TENTH.
London, Nov. 25, 1710.
I WILL tell you something that is plaguy silly; I
had forgot to say on the 23rd in my last where I
!
156
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
dined; and because I had done it constantly, I
thought it was a great omission, and was going to
interline it; but at last the silliness of it made me
cry, pshah, and I let it alone. I was to-day to see the
parliament meet, but only saw a great crowd; and
Ford and I went to see the tombs at Westminster,
and sauntered so long I was forced to go to an eat-
ing-house for my dinner. Bromley is chosen speaker,
nemine contradicente: do you understand those two
words? and Pompey, colonel Hill's black, designs
to stand speaker for the footmen. I am engaged to
use my interest for him, and have spoken to Patrick
to get him some votes. We are now all impatient
for the queen's speech, what she will say about re-
moving the ministry, &c. I have got a cold, and I
I have got a cold, and I |
do not know how; but got it I have, and am hoarse:
I do not know whether it will grow better or worse.
What is that to you? I will not answer your letter
to-night. I will keep you a little longer in suspense
I cannot send it. Your mother's cakes are very
good, and one of them serves me for breakfast, and
so I will go sleep like a good boy.
26. I have got a cruel cold, and stayed within all
this day in my nightgown, and dined on sixpenny-
worth of victuals, and read and writ, and was denied
to everybody. Dr. Raymond called often, and I
was denied; and at last, when I was weary, I let
him come up, and asked him without consequence,
"How Patrick denied me, and whether he had the
art of it?" So by this means he shall be used to
have me denied to him, otherwise he would be a
plaguy trouble and hindrance to me: he has sat with
me two hours, and drank a pint of ale cost me five-
pence, and smoked his pipe, and it is now past
eleven that he is just gone. Well, my 8th is with you
now, young women, and your 7th to me is somewhere
in a postboy's bag: and so go to your gang of deans,
and Stoytes, and Walls, and lose your money; go,
sauceboxes, and so good night and be happy, dear
rogues. O, but your box was sent to Dr. Hawkshaw
by Sterne, and you will have it with Hawkshaw,
and spectacles, &c., &c.
27. To-day Mr. Harley met me in the court of
requests, and whispered me to dine with him. At
At
dinner I told him what those bishops had done, and
the difficulty I was under. He bid me never trouble
myself; he would tell the duke of Ormond the
business was done, and that he need not concern
himself about it. So now I am easy, and they may
hang themselves for a parcel of insolent ungrateful
rascals. I suppose I told you in my last how they
sent an address to the duke of Ormond, and a letter
to Southwell, to call on me for the papers after the
thing was over; but they had not received my letter,
though the archbishop might, by what I writ to
him, have expected it would be done. Well, there
is an end of that, and in a little time the queen will
send them notice, &c. And so the methods will be
settled, and then I shall think of returning, although
the baseness of those bishops makes me love Ireland
less than I did.
28. Lord Halifax sent to invite me to dinner,
where I stayed till six, and crossed him in all his
Whig talk, and made him often come over to me.
I know he makes court to the new men, although
he affects to talk like a Whig. I had a letter to-day
from the bishop of Clogher, but I writ to him lately
that I would obey his commands to the duke of
Ormond. He says I bid him read the London
Shaver, and that you both swore it was Shaver, and
not Shower. You all lie, and you are puppies, and
cannot read Presto's hand. The bishop is out en-
tirely in his conjectures of my share in the Tatlers.
I have other things to mind, and of much greater
|
importance [political controversies], else I have little
to do to be acquainted with a new ministry, who
consider me a little more than Irish bishops do.
29. Now for your saucy good dear letter; let me
see, what does it say? come then. I dined to-day
with Ford, and went home early; he debauched me
to his chamber again with a bottle of wine till
twelve; so good night. I cannot write an answer
now, you rogues.
30. To-day I have been visiting, which I had long
neglected; and I dined with Mrs. Barton alone
and sauntered at the coffeehouse till past eight, and
have been busy till eleven, and now I will answer
your letter, saucebox. Well, let me see now again.
My wax candle's almost out, but however I will
begin. Well then, do not be so tedious, Mr. Presto;
what can you say to MD's letter? Make haste,
have done with your preambles. Why, I say, I
am glad you are so often abroad; your mother
thinks it is want of exercise hurts you, and so do I.
(She called here to-night, but I was not within: that
is by the bye.) Sure you do not deceive me, Stella,
when you say you are in better health than
you were
these three weeks; for Dr. Raymond told me yes-
terday that Smyth, of the Blind Quay, had been
telling Mr. Leigh that he left you extremely ill;
and, in short, spoke so that he almost put poor Leigh
into tears, and would have made me run distracted ;
though your letter is dated the 11th instant, and Í
saw Smyth in the city above a fortnight ago, as I
passed by in a coach. Pray, pray, do not write, Stella,
until you are mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty
well in your eyes, and are sure it won't do you the
least hurt. Or come, I will tell you what; you,
mistress Stella, shall write your share at five or six
sittings, one sitting a day; and then comes Dingley
all together, and then Stella a little crumb toward
the end, to let us see she remembers Presto; and
then conclude with something handsome and gen-
teel, as "your most humble cumdumble," or, &c.
O Lord! does Patrick write of my not coming till
spring? Insolent man! he know my secrets? No;
as my lord mayor said, "No; if I thought my shirt
knew," &c.
knew," &c. Faith, I will come as soon as it is in
any way proper for me to come; but, to say the
truth, I am at present a little involved with the pre-
sent ministry in some certain things (which I tell
you as a secret); as soon as ever I can clear my
hands I will stay no longer; for I hope the first-
fruit-business will be soon over in all its forms.
But, to say the truth, the present ministry have a
difficult task, and want me, &c. Perhaps they may
be just as grateful as others; but, according to the
best judgment I have, they are pursuing the true in-
terest of the public; and therefore I am glad to
contribute what is in my power. For God's sake,
not a word of this to any alive. Your chancellor?
why, madam, I can tell you he has been dead this
fortnight. Faith, I could hardly forbear our little
language about a nasty dead chancellor, as you may
see by the blot. Ploughing? A pox plough them;
they will plough me to nothing.
got your money, both the ten pounds? How durst
he pay the second so soon? Pray be good house-
wives. Ay, well, and Joe; why, I had a letter
lately from Joe, desiring I would take some care of
their poor town [Trim], who, he says, will lose their
liberties. To which I desired Dr. Raymond would
return answer, "That the town had behaved them-
selves so ill to me, so little regarded the advice I
gave them, and disagreed so much among thein-
But have you
a The words "this fortnight" had been written in what
he calls their little language, then scratched out, and written
plain.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
157
selves, that I was resolved never to have more to do
with them; but that whatsoever personal kindness I
could do to Joe should be done." Pray, when you
happen to see Joe tell him this, lest Raymond should
have blundered or forgotten. Poor Mrs. Wesley-
why these poligyes [apologies] for being abroad?
Why should you be at home at all until Stella is
quite well? So, here is mistress Stella again with
her two eggs, &c. My Shower admired with you;
why, the bishop of Clogher says he has seen some-
thing of mine of the same sort better than the
Shower. I suppose he means the Morning; but it
is not half so good. I want your judgment of things,
and not your country's. How does MD like it?
and do they taste it all? &c. I am glad dean Bolton
has paid the twenty pounds. Why should not I
chide the bishop of Clogher for writing to the arch-
bishop of Cashel, without sending the letter first to
me? It does not signify a ; for he has no
credit at court. Stuff-they are all puppies. I will
break your head in good earnest, young woman, for
your nasty jest about Mrs. Barton. Unlucky slut-
tikin, what a word is there? Faith, I was thinking
yesterday, when I was with her, whether she could
break them or no, and it quite spoiled my imagin-
ation. Mrs. Wall, does Stella win as she pretends?
No, indeed, doctor; she loses always, and will play
so venturesomely, how can she win? See here now;
are not you an impudent lying slut? Do open
Domville's letter; what does it signify, if you have
a mind? Yes, faith, you write smartly with your
eyes shut; all was well but the w. See how I can
do it. "Madam Stella, your humble servant." O,
but one may look whether one goes crooked or no,
and so write on. I will tell you what you may do;
you may write with your eyes half shut, just as
when one is going to sleep; I have done so for two
or three lines now; it is but just seeing enough to
go straight. Now, madam Dingley, I think I bid
you tell Mr. Walls that in case there be occasion I
will serve his friend as far as I can; but I hope
there will be none. Yet I believe you will have a
new parliament; but I care not whether you have
or no a better. You are mistaken in all your con-
jectures about the Tatlers. I have given him one
or two hints, and you have heard me talk about the
Shilling. Faith, these answering letters are very
long ones you have taken up almost the room of a
week in journals; and I will tell you what, I saw
fellows wearing crosses to-day [St. Andrew's day],
and I wondered what was the matter; but just this
minute I recollect it is little Presto's birthday; and
I was resolved these three days to remember it when
it came, but could not. Pray, drink my health to-
day at dinner; do, you rogues. Do you like Sid
Hamet's rod? Do you understand it all? Well,
now at last I have done with your letter, and so I
will lay me down to sleep, and about fair maids;
and I hope merry maids all.
December 1. Morning. I wish Smyth were
hanged. I was dreaming the most melancholy
things in the world of poor Stella, and was
grieving and crying all night. Pshah, it is foolish :
I will rise and divert myself; so good-morrow, and
God of his infinite mercy keep and protect you.
The bishop of Clogher's letter is dated Nov. 21.
He says you thought of going with him to Clogher.
I am heartily glad of it, and wish you would ride
there, and Dingley go in a coach. I have had no fit
since my first, although sometimes my head is not
quite in good order. At night.-I was this morn-
ing to visit Mr. Pratt, who is come over with poor
sick lord Shelburn; they made me dine with them,
and there I stayed like a booby till eight, looking
Lord
over them at ombre; and then came home.
Shelburn's giddiness is turned into a colic, and he
looks miserably.
2. Steele, the rogue, has done the impudentest
thing in the world; he said something in a Tatler,
that we ought to use the word Great Britain, and
not England, in common conversation; as, the
finest lady in Great Britain, &c. Upon this Rowe,
Prior, and I sent him a letter, turning this into
ridicule. He has to-day printed the letter, and
signed it J. S., M. P., and N. R., the first letters of
our names. Congreve told me to-day he smoked it
immediately. Congreve and I, and sir Charles
Wager, dined to-day at Delaval's, the Portugal
envoy; and I stayed there till eight, and came
home, and am now writing to you before I do busi-
ness, because that dog Patrick is not at home, and
the fire is not made, and I am not in my gear. Pox
take him :-I was looking by chance at the top of
this side, and find I make plaguy mistakes in words;
so that you must fence against that as well as bad
writing. Faith, I cannot nor will not read what I
have written. (Pox of this puppy!) Well, I will
|
leave you till I am got to bed, and then I will say a
word or two. Well, it is now almost twelve, and I
|
have been busy ever since, by a fire too (I have my
coals by half a bushel at a time, I will assure you),
and now I am got to bed. Well, and what have
you to say to Presto now he is abed? Come, now,
let us hear your speeches. No, it is a lie, I am not
sleepy yet. Let us sit up a little longer, and talk.
Well, where have you been to-day, that you are but
just this minute come home in a coach? What have
you lost? Pay the coachman, Stella. No, faith,
not I, he will grumble. What new acquaintance
have you got? come, let us hear. I have made
Delaval promise to send me some Brazil tobacco
from Portugal for you, madam Dingley. I hope
you will have your chocolate and spectacles before
this comes to you.
3. Pshaw, I must be writing to those dear saucy
brats every night, whether I will or no, let me have
what business I will, or come home ever so late,
or be ever so sleepy; but an old saying and a true
one,-
Be you lords, or be you earls,
You must write to naughty girls.
I was to-day at court, and saw Raymond among
the beef-eaters, staying to see the queen; so I put
him in a better station, made two or three dozen of
bows, and went to church, and then to court again
to pick up a dinner, as I did with sir John Stanley;
and then we went to visit lord Mountjoy, and just
now left him, and it is near eleven at night, young
women, and methinks this letter comes pretty near
to the bottom, and it is but eight days since the
date, and do not think I will write on the other
side, I thank you for nothing. Faith, if I would
use you to letters on sheets as broad as this room,
you would always expect them from me. O, faith,
I know you well enough; but an old saying, &c.
Two sides in a sheet,
And one in a street.
I think that is but a silly old saying, and so I will
go to sleep, and do you so to.
4. I dined to-day with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and
then came home and studied till evening. No ad-
venture at all to-day.
5. So I went to the court of requests (we have
had the devil and all of rain by the bye) to pick up
a dinner, and Henley made me go dine with him
and one colonel Brag at a tavern; cost me money,
faith. Congreve was to be there, but came not. I
came with Henley to the coffeehouse, where lord
158
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
Salisbury seemed mighty desirous to talk with me;
and while he was wriggling himself into my favour,
that dog Henley asked me aloud whether I
would go to see lord Somers as I had promised? |
(which was a lie), and all to vex poor lord Salisbury,
who is a high Tory. He played two or three other
such tricks, and I was forced to leave my lord, and
I came home at seven, and have been writing ever
since, and will now go to bed. The other day I
saw Jack Temple in the court of requests; it was
the first time of seeing him; so we talked two or
three careless words, and parted. Is it true that
your recorder and mayor, and fanatic aldermen, a
month or two ago, at a solemn feast, drank Mr.
Harley's, lord Rochester's, and other Tory healths?
Let me know; it was confidently said here. The
scoundrels! It shall not do, Tom.
6. When is this letter to go, I wonder: hearkee,
young women, tell me that? Saturday next for
certain, and not before: then it will be just a fort-
night; time enough for naughty girls, and long
enough for two letters, faith. Congreve and Dela-
val have at last prevailed on sir Godfrey Kneller
to entreat me to let him draw my picture for no-
thing; but I know not yet when I shall sit. It is
such monstrous rainy weather that there is no doing
with it. Secretary St. John sent to me this morn-
ing, that my dining with him to-day was put off till
to-morrow; so I peaceably sat with my neighbour
Ford, dined with him, and came home at six, and
am now in bed as usual; and now it is time to have
another letter from MD, yet I would not have it till
this goes; for that would look like two letters for
one. Is it not whimsical that the dean has never
once written to me? And I find the archbishop
silent to that letter I sent him with an ac-
very
count that the business was done. I believe he
knows not what to write or say; and I have since
written twice to him, both times with a vengeance.
Well, go to bed, sirrahs, and so will I. But have
you lost to-day? Three shillings. O fie, O fie.
7. No, I will not send this letter to-day, nor till
Saturday, faith; and I am so afraid of one from
MD between this and that: if it comes I will just
say I received a letter, and that is all. I dined to-
day with Mr. secretary St. John, where were lord
Anglesea, sir Thomas Hanmer, Prior, Freind, &c.,
and then made a debauch after nine at Prior's
house, and have eaten cold pie, and I hate the
thoughts of it, and I am full, and I do not like it,
and I will go to bed, and it is late, and so good
night.
a
8. To-day I dined with Mr. Harley and Prior;
but Mr. St. John did not come, though he pro-
mised; he chid me for not seeing him oftener.
Here is a damned libellous pamphlet come out
against lord Wharton, giving the character first, and
then telling some of his actions: the character is
very well, but the facts indifferent. It has been
sent by dozens to several gentlemen's lodgings, and
I had one or two of them, but nobody knows the
author or printer. We are terribly afraid of the
plague; they say it is at Newcastle. I begged Mr.
Harley for the love of God to take some care about
There have been orders
it, or we are all ruined.
for all ships from the Baltic to pass their quarantine
You remem-
before they land; but they neglect it.
ber I have been afraid these two years.
9. O faith, you are a saucy rogue. I have had
your 6th letter just now, before this is gone; but I
will not answer a word of it, only that I never was
giddy since my first fit, but I have had a cold just a
fortnight, and cough with it still morning and even-
"This was his own writing, but unsuspected at the time.
ing; but it will go off. It is, however, such abo-
minable weather that no creature can walk. They
say here three of your commissioners will be turned
out, Ogle, South, and St. Quintain, and that Dick
Stuart and Ludlow will be two of the new ones. I
am a little soliciting for another; it is poor lord
Abercorn, but that is a secret; I mean, that I be-
friend him is a secret; but I believe it is too late,
by his own fault and ill fortune. I dined with him
to-day. I am heartily sorry you do not go to
Clogher, faith I am; and so God Almighty protect
poor dear, dear, dear, dearest MD. Farewell till
to-night. I will begin my 11th to-night; so I am
always writing to little MD.
LETTER THE ELEVENTH.
London, Dec. 9, 1710.
So, young women, I have just sent my 10th to the
post-office, and, as I told you, have received your
7th (faith I am afraid I mistook, and said your 6th,
and then we shall be all in confusion this month).
Well, I told you I dined with lord Abercorn to-
day, and that is enough till by and by; for I must
go write idle things, and twittle-twattle. What is
here to do with your little MD's? and so I put this
by for a while. It is now late, and I can only
say MD is a dear, saucy rogue; and what then?
Presto loves them the better.
10. This son of a b-- Patrick is out of the
way,
and I can do nothing; am forced to borrow coals:
it is now six o'clock, and I am come home after a
pure walk in the park; delicate weather, begun
only to-day. A terrible storm last night: we hear
one of your packet-boats is cast away, and young
beau Swift in it, and general Sankey: I know not
the truth; you will before me. Raymond talks of
leaving the town in a few days, and going in a
month to Ireland, for fear his wife should be too far
gone, and forced to be brought to bed here. I
think he is in the right, but perhaps this packet-boat
will fright him. He has no relish for London; and
I do not wonder at it. He has got some Templars
I do not
from Ireland that show him the town.
let him see me above twice a week, and that only
while I am dressing in the morning. So now the
puppy 's come in, and I have got my own ink, but
a new pen; and so now you are rogues and sauce-
boxes till I go to bed, for I must go study, sirrahıs.
Now I think of it, tell the bishop of Clogher he
shall not cheat me of one inch of my bell-metal.
You know it is nothing but to save the town mo-
ney, and Enniskilling can afford it better than
Laracor; he shall have but one thousand five hun-
dred weight. I have been reading, &c., as usual,
and am now going to bed, and I find this day's
article is long enough; so get you gone till to-mor-
row, and then. I dined with sir Matthew Dudley.
They
11. I am come home again as yesterday, and the
puppy had again locked up my ink, notwithstanding
all I said to him yesterday; but he came home a
little after me, so all is well; they are lighting my
fire, and I will go study. The fair weather is gone
again, and it has rained all day. I do not like this
open weather, though some say it is healthy.
say it is a false report about the plague at New-
castle. I have no news to-day; I dined with Mrs.
Vanhomrigh, to desire them to buy me a scarf; and
lady Abercorn is to buy me another, to see who
does best; mine is all in rags. I saw the duke of
Richmond yesterday at court again, but would not
speak to him; I believe we are fallen out.
now in bed, and it has rained all this evening like
wildfire. Have you so much rain in your town?
I am
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
159
Raymond was in a fright as I expected upon the
news of this shipwreck, but I persuaded him, and
he leaves this town in a week. I got him acquainted
with sir Robert Raymond, the solicitor-general,
who owns him to be of his family; and I believe it
may do him a kindness by being recommended to
your new lord chancellor. I had a letter from Mrs.
Long that has quite turned my stomach against her;
no less than two nasty jests in it, with dashes to
suppose them.
She is corrupted in that country-
town [Lynn, Norfolk] with vile conversation. I
will not answer your letter till I have leisure, so let
this go on as it will, what care I? what cares saucy
Presto?
а
12. I was to-day at the secretary's office with
Lewis, and in came lord Rivers, who took Lewis
out and whispered him, and then came up to me to
desire my acquaintance, &c.; so we bowed and
complimented a while, and parted; and I dined
with Phil. Savage a and his Irish club at their board-
ing-place, and, passing an evening scurvily enough,
did not come home till eight. Mr. Addison and I
Mr. Addison and I
hardly meet once a fortnight; his parliament and
my different friendships keep us asunder. Sir Mat-
thew Dudley turned away his butler yesterday
morning, and at night the poor fellow died suddenly
in the streets. Was not it an odd event? But
what care you? but then I knew the butler. Why,
it seems your packet-boat is not lost: pshah, how
silly that is, when I had already gone through the
forms, and said it was a sad thing, and that I was
sorry for it! But when must I answer this letter of
our MD's? Here it is, lies between this paper on
the other side the leaf: one of these odd-come-short-
lies I will consider, so good night.
13. Morning. ÍI am to go trapesing with lady
Kerry and Mrs. Pratt to see sights all this day: they
engaged me yesterday morning at tea. You hear
the havoc making in the army: Meredyth, Macart-
ney, and colonel Honeywood, are obliged to sell
their commands at half value, and leave the army,
for drinking destruction to the present ministry, and
dressing up a hat on a stick and calling it Harley;
then drinking a glass with one hand, and discharg-
ing a pistol with the other at the maukin, wishing it
were Harley himself, and a hundred other such
pretty tricks, as inflaming their soldiers and foreign
ministers against the late changes at court. Cado-
gan has had a little paring; his mother told me yes-
terday he had lost the place of envoy: b but I hope
they will go no further with him, for he was not at
those mutinous meetings. Well, these saucy jades
take up so much of my time with writing to them in
a morning; but faith I am glad to see you whenever
I can a little snap and away; so hold your tongue,
for I must rise: not a word for your life. How
nowww? so very well; stay till I come home, and
then perhaps you may hear further from me. And
where will you go to-day, for I cannot be with you
for these ladies? It is a rainy ugly day. I would
have you send for Walls, and go to the dean's; but
do not play small games when you lose. You will
be ruined by Manilio, Basto, the queen, and two
small trumps in red. I confess it is a good hand
against the player; but then there are Spadilio,
Punto, the king, strong trumps against you, which,
with one trump more, are three tricks ten ace; for,
suppose you play your Manilio. O, silly, how I prate
and cannot get away from this MD in a morning.
Go, get you gone, dear naughty girls, and let me rise.
There, Patrick locked up my ink again the third time
a Chancellor of the exchequer in Ireland.
Lieutenant-general, after earl of Cadogan, the friend of
Marlborough, envoy to the United Provinces and the govern-
ment of Spanish Flanders.
:
last night the rogue gets the better of me; but I
will rise in spite of you, sirrahs. At night.-Lady
Kerry, Mrs. Pratt, Mrs. Cadogan, and I in one
coach; lady Kerry's son and his governor and two
gentlemen in another; maids and misses, and little
master (lord Shelburn's children), in a third, all
hackneys; set out at ten o'clock this morning from
Lord Shelburn's house in Picadilly to the Tower,
and saw all the sights, lions, &c.; then to Bedlam;
then dined at the chophouse behind the Exchange;
then to Gresham College (but the keeper was not at
home), and concluded the night at the puppet-show,
whence we came home safe at night, and I left
them. The ladies were all in mobs; how do you
call it? undressed; and it was the rainiest day that ever
dripped; and I am weary, and it is now past eleven.
:
14. Stay, I will answer some of your letter this
morning in bed : let me see; come and appear, little
letter. Here I am, says he, and what say you to
Mrs. MD this morning, fresh and fasting? who dares
think MD negligent? I allow them a fortnight, and
they give it me. I could fill a letter in a week; but
it is longer every day, and so I keep it a fortnight,
and then it is cheaper by one half. I have never
been giddy, dear Stella, since that morning: I have
taken a whole box of pills, and kecked at them every
night, and drank a pint of brandy at mornings. O
then, you kept Presto's little birthday: would to
God I had been with you. I forgot it, as I told you
before. Rediculous, madam? I suppose you mean
ridiculous let me have no more of that; it is the
author of the Atlantis's spelling. I have mended it
in your letter. And can Stella read this writing
without hurting her dear eyes? O, faith, I am
afraid not. Have a care of those eyes, pray, pray,
pretty Stella. It is well enough what you observe,
that if I writ better, perhaps you would not read
so well, being used to this manner; it is an alphabet
you are used to; you know such a pothook makes a
letter; and you know what letter, and so and so
I will swear he told me so, and that they were long
letters too; but I told him it was a gasconade of
yours, &c. I am talking of the bishop of Clogher,
how he forgot. Turn over.a I had not room on
the other side to say that, so I did it on this: I fancy
that is a good Irish blunder. Ah, why do not you
go down to Clogher, nautinautinauti-dear girls; I
dare not say nauti without dear: O, faith, you
govern me. But seriously, I am sorry you do not
go, as far as I can judge at this distance. No, we
would get you another horse; I will make Parvisol
get you one. I always doubted that horse of yours;
prithee, sell him, and let it be a present to me.
heart aches when I think you ride him. Order
Parvisol to sell him, and that you are to return me
the money: I shall never be easy until he is out of
your hands. Faith, I have dreamed five or six times.
of horses stumbling since I had your letter. If he
cannot sell him, let him run this winter. Faith, if
I was near you I would whip your to some tune,
for your grave saucy answer about the dean and
Jonsonibus; I would, young women. And did the
dean preach for me? very well. Why, would they
have me stand here and preach to them? No, the
Tatler of the Shilling was not mine, more than the
hint and two or three general heads for it. I have
much more important business on my hands: and,
besides, the ministry hate to think that I should help
him, and have made reproaches on it; and I frankly
told them I would do it no more. This is a secret
though, madam Stella. You win eight shillings!
you win eight fiddlesticks. Faith, you say nothing
My
a He seems to have written these words in a whim, for the
sake of what follows.
160
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
—
But,
of what you lose, young women. I hope Manley is
in no great danger; for Ned Southwell is his friend,
and so is sir Thomas Frankland; and his brother
John Manley stands up heartily for him. On the
other side, all the gentlemen of Ireland here are
furiously against him. Now, mistress Dingley, are
not you an impudent slut to expect a letter next
packet from Presto, when you confess yourself that
you had so lately two letters in four days? unrea-
sonable baggage! no, little Dingley, I am always in
bed by twelve! I mean my candle's out by twelve,
and I take great care of myself. Pray let everybody
know, upon occasion, that Mr. Harley got the first-
fruits from the queen for the clergy of Ireland, and
that nothing remains but the forms, &c. So you say
the dean and you dined at Stoyte's, and Mrs. Stoyte
was in raptures that I remembered her. I must do
it but seldom, or it will take off her rapture.
what now, you saucy sluts? all this written in a
morning, and I must rise and go abroad. Pray stay
till night: do not think I will squander mornings
upon you, pray good madam. Faith, if I go on
longer in this trick of writing in the mornings, I
shall be afraid of leaving it off, and think you expect
it, and be in awe. Good morrow, sirrahs; I will
rise. At night. I went to-day to the court of
requests (I will not answer the rest of your letter
yet, that by the way) in hopes to dine with Mr.
Harley but lord Dupplin, his son-in-law, told me
he did not dine at home; so I was at a loss, until I
met with Mr. secretary St. John, and went home
and dined with him, where he told me of a good
bite [a quiz]. Lord Rivers told me two days ago
that he was resolved to come Sunday fortnight next
to hear me preach before the queen. I assured him
the day was not yet fixed, and I knew nothing of it.
To-day the secretary told me that his father (sir
Harry St. John) and lord Rivers were to be at St.
James's church, to hear me preach there; and were
assured I was to preach: so there will be another
bite [quiz]; for I know nothing of the matter, but
that Mr. Harley and St. John are resolved I must
preach before the queen, and the secretary of state
has told me he will give me three weeks' warning;
but I desired to be excused, which he will not.
John, "you shall not be excused :" however, I hope
they will forget it: for, if it should happen, all the
puppies hereabouts will throng to hear me, and
expect something wonderful, and be plaguily balked,
for I shall preach plain honest stuff. I stayed with
St. John till eight, and then came home, and Patrick
desired leave to go abroad, and by and by comes up
the girl to tell me a gentleman was below in a coach
who had a bill to pay me; so I let him come up, and
who should it be but Mr. Addison and Sam Dop-
ping, to haul me out to supper, where I have stayed till
twelve. If Patrick had been at home I should have
escaped this; for I have taught him to deny me
almost as well as Mr. Harley's porter. Where did
I leave off in MD's letter? let me see. So, now I
have it. You are pleased to say, madam Dingley,
that those that go for England can never tell when
to came back. Do you mean this as a reflection upon
Presto, madam? Sauceboxes, I will come back as
soon as I can: this is his common phrase, and I hope |
with some advantage, unless all ministries be alike,
as perhaps they may. I hope Hawkshaw is in
Dublin before now, and that you have your things,
and like your spectacles; if you did not you shall
have better. I hope Dingley's tobacco did not spoil
Stella's chocolate, and that all is safe; pray let me
know. Mr. Addison and I are different as black
ค
St.
They did not succeed, for the doctor never would preach
before the queen.
and white, and I believe our friendship will go off
by this damned business of party: he cannot bear
seeing me fall in so with this ministry; but I love
him still as well as ever, though we seldom meet.
Hussy, Stella, you jest about poor Congreve's eyes;
you do so, hussy, but I will bang your bones, faith.
-Yes, Steele was a little while in prison, or at least
in a spunging-house, some time before I came, but
not since.-Pox on your convocation and your
Lamberts; they write with a vengeance! I suppose
you think it a piece of affectation in me to wish your
Irish folks would not like my Shower; but you are
mistaken. I should be glad to have the general ap-·
plause there as I have here (though I say it), but I
have only that of one or two, and therefore I would
have none at all, but let you all be in the wrong. I
do not know, that is not what I would say; but I
am so tosticated with supper and stuff that I cannot
express myself. What you say of Sid Hamet is well
enough; that an enemy should like it, and a friend
not; and that telling the author would make both
change their opinions. Why did not you tell Grif-
fyth that you fancied there was something in it of
my manner? but first spur up his commendation to
the height, as we served my poor uncle about the
sconce that I mended. Well, I desired you to give
what I intended for an answer to Mrs. Fenton, to
save her postage and myself trouble; and I hope I
have done it if you have not.
15. Lord, what a long day's writing was yester-
day's answer to your letter, sirrahs. I dined to-day
with Lewis and Ford, whom I have brought ac-
quainted. Lewis told me a pure thing. I had been
hankering with Mr. Harley to save Steele his other
employment, and have a little mercy on him, and I
had been saying the same thing to Lewis, who is
Mr. Harley's chief favourite. Lewis tells Mr. Har-
ley how kindly I should take it if he would be
reconciled to Steele, &c. Mr. Harley, on my account,
falls in with it, and appoints Steele a time to let
him attend him, which Steele accepts with great
submission, but never comes, nor sends any excuse.
Whether it was blundering, sullenness, insolence, or
rancour of party, I cannot tell; but I shall trouble
myself no more about him. I believe Addison hin-
dered him out of mere spite, being grated to the
soul to think he should ever want my help to save
his friend; yet now he is soliciting me to make
another of his friends queen's secretary at Geneva;
and I will do it if I can; it is poor Pastoral Philips.
16. O, why did you leave my picture behind you
at the other lodgings; forget it? well; but pray
remember it now, and do not roll it up, do you hear?
but hang it carefully in some part of your room,
where chairs, and candles, and mopsticks, will not
spoil it, sirrahs. No, truly, I will not be god-
father to Goody Walls this bout, and I hope
she will have no more. There will be no quiet nor
cards for this child. I hope it will die the day after
the christening. Mr. Harley gave me a paper, with
an account of the sentence you speak of against the
lads that defaced the statue," and that Ingoldsby re-
prieved that part of it standing before the statue. I
hope it was never executed. We have got your
Broderick out; Doyne is to succeed him, and Cox
Doyne. And so there is an end of your letter; it
is all answered, and now I must go on upon my own
stock: go on, did I say? why, I have written enough:
but this is too soon to send it yet, young women;
faith I dare not use you to it, you will always expect
it; what remains shall be only short journals of a
" Dr. Lambert, chaplain to lord Wharton.
b Of king William, erected after the battle of the Boyne, in
the College-green, Dublin.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
161
day, and so I will rise, for this morning. At night.
-I dined with my opposite neighbour, Darteneuf
[a great epicure], and I was soliciting this day to
present the bishop of Clogher [Dr. St. George Ashe]
vice chancellor: but it will not do; they are all set
against him, and the duke of Ormond, they say, has
resolved to dispose of it somewhere else. Well;
little saucy rogues, do not stay out too late to-night,
because it is Saturday night, and young women
should come home soon then.
17. I went to court to seek a dinner, but the queen
was not at church, she has got a touch of the gout;
so the court was thin, and I went to the coffeehouse;
and sir Thomas Frankland and his eldest son and I
went and dined with his son William. I talked a
great deal to sir Thomas about Manley, and find he
is his good friend, and so has Ned Southwell been,
and I hope he will be safe though all the Irish folks
here are his mortal enemies. There was a devilish
bite to-day. They had it, I knew not how, that I
was to preach this morning at St. James's church,
and abundance went, among the rest lord Radnor,
who never is abroad till three in the afternoon.
walked all the way home from Hatton-garden at
six, by moonlight, a delicate night. Raymond called
at nine, but I was denied, and now I am in bed
between eleven and twelve, just going to sleep, and
dream of my own dear roguish impudent pretty MD.
I
18. You will now have short days' works, just a
few lines to tell you where I am, and what I am
doing; only I will keep room for the last day to tell
you news, if there be any worth sending. I have
been sometimes like to do it at the top of my letter,
until I remarked it would be old before it reached
you. I was hunting to dine with Mr. Harley to-day,
but could not find him; and so I dined with honest
Dr. Cockburn, and came home at six, and was taken
out to next door by Dopping and Ford, to drink bad
claret and oranges, and we let Raymond come to us,
who talks of leaving the town to-morrow, but I be-
lieve will stay a day or two longer. It is now late,
and I will say no more, but end this line with bid-
ding my own dear saucy MD good night, &c.
19. I am come down proud stomach in one in-
stance, for I went to-day to see the duke of Buck-
ingham, but came too late; then I visited Mrs.
Barton, and thought to have dined with some of the
ministry; but it rained, and Mrs. Vanhomrigh was
nigh, and I took the opportunity of paying her for
a scarf she bought me, and dined there; at four I
went to congratulate with lord Shelburn, for the
death of poor lady Shelburn dowager: he was at his
country house, and returned while I was there, and
had not heard of it, and he took it very well. I am
now come home before six, and find a packet from
the bishop of Clogher, with one enclosed to the duke
of Ormond, which is ten days earlier dated than
another I had from Parvisol: however, it is no
matter, for the duke has already disposed of the vice
chancellorship to the archbishop of Tuam,ª and I
could not help it, for it is a thing wholly, you know,
in the duke's power; and I find the bishop has
enemies about the duke. I writ this while Patrick
is folding up my scarf, and doing up the fire (for I
keep a fire, it costs me twelvepence a week), and so
be quiet till I am gone to bed, and then sit down by
me a little, and we will talk a few words more.
Well; now MD is at my bedside; and now what
shall we say? How does Mrs. Stoyte? What had
the dean for supper? How much did Mrs. Walls
win? Poor lady Shelburn: well, go get you to
bed, sirrals.
Dr. John Vesey, bishop of Limerick, June 11th, 1672;
translated to Tuam, March 18th, 1678. He died in 1716,
VOL. I.
|
20. Morning.-I was up this morning early, and
shaved by candlelight, and write this by the fireside.
Poor Raymond just came in and took his leave of
me; he is summoned by high order from his wife,
but pretends he has had enough of London. I was
a little melancholy to part with him: he goes to
Bristol, where they are to be with his merchant
brother, and now thinks of staying till May; so she
must be brought to bed in England. He was so
easy and manageable, that I almost repent I suffered
him to see me so seldom. But he is gone, and will
save Patrick some lies in a week: Patrick is grown
How
admirable at it, and will make his fortune.
now, sirrah, must I write in a morning to your im-
pudence?
Stay till night,
And then I'll write,
In black and white,
By candlelight
Of wax so bright,
It helps the sight,
A bite a bite !
Marry come up, Mrs. Boldface.
At night.-Dr. Raymond came back, and goes to-
morrow. I did not come home till eleven, and found
him here to take leave of me. I went to the Court
of Requests, thinking to find Mr. Harley and dine
with him, and refuse Henley and every body, and at
last knew not where to go, and met Jemmy Leigh
by chance, and was just in the same way, so I dined
at his lodging on a beefsteak, and drank your health,
then left him, and went to the tavern with Ben
Tooke and Portlack, the duke of Ormond's secre-
tary, drinking nasty white wine till eleven. I am
sick and ashamed of it, &c.
21. I met that beast Ferris, lord Berkeley's
steward formerly: I walked with him a turn in the
Park, and that scoundrel dog is as happy as an em-
peror, has married a wife with a considerable estate
in land and houses about this town, and lives at his
ease at Hammersmith. See your confounded sect
[sex]. Well; I had the same luck to-day with Mr.
Harley it was a lovely day, and went by water into
the city, and dined with Stratford at a merchant's
house, and walked home with as great a dunce as
Ferris (I mean colonel Caufield, and came home by
eight, and now am in bed, and going to sleep for a
wager, and will send this letter on Saturday, or so;
but first I will wish you a merry Christmas and a
happy new year, and pray God we may never keep
them asunder again.
22. Morning.-I am going now to Mr. Harley's
levee on purpose to vex him: I will say I had no
other way of seeing him, &c. Patrick says it is a
dark morning, and that the duke of Argyle is to be
knighted to-day; the booby means installed at
Windsor. But I must rise, for this is a shaving day,
and Patrick says there is a good fire. I wish MD
were by it, or I by MD's. At night.-I forgot to
tell you, madam Dingley, that I paid nine shillings
for your glass and spectacles, of which three were
for the bishop's case. I am sorry I did not buy you
such another case; but if you like it, I will bring one
over with me; pray tell me: the glass to read was
four shillings, the spectacles two.
And have you
had your chocolate? Leigh says he sent the pet-
ticoat by one Mr. Spencer. Pray, have you no
further commissions for me? I paid the glassman
but last night, and he would have made me a
present of the microscope worth thirty shillings,
and would have sent it home with me. I thought the
deuce was in the man: he said I could do him more
service than that was worth, &c. I refused his
present, but promised him all service I could do
him; and so now I am obliged in honour to recom-
mend him to everybody. At night.-I went to
Mr. Harley's levee: he came and asked me what
had I to do there, and bid me come and dine with
M
162
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
him on a family dinner; which I did, and it was
the first time I ever saw his lady and daughter. At
five my lord keeper came in: I told Mr. Harley,
he had formerly presented me to sir Simon Har-
court, but now must to my lord keeper, so he
laughed, &c.
23. Morning.-This letter goes to-night without
fail. I hope there is none from you yet at the cof-
fee-house; I will send and see by and by; and let
you know, and so and so. Patrick goes to see for
a letter what will you lay, is there one from MD
or no. No, I say; done, for sixpence. Why has
the dean never once written to me?-I won
sixpence; I won sixpence; there is not one letter
to Presto. Good morrow, dear sirrahs: Stratford
and I dine to-day with lord Mountjoy.
God
Almighty preserve and bless you! farewell, &c.
I have been dining at lord Mountjoy's; and
am come to study: our news from Spain this post
takes off some of our fears. The parliament is
prorogued to-day, or adjourned rather, till after the
holidays. Bank stock is 105, so I may get 127.
for my bargain already. Patrick the puppy is
abroad, and how shall I send this letter? Good
night, little dears both, and be happy, and re-
member your poor Presto, that wants you sadly,
as hope saved. Let me go study, naughty girls, and
do not keep me at the bottom of the paper. O
faith, if you knew what lies on my hands constantly,
you would wonder to see how I could write such
long letters; but we will talk of that some other
time. Good night again, and God bless dear MD
with his best blessing; yes, yes, and Dingley, and
Stella, and me too! &c.
Ask the bishop of Clogher about the pun I sent
him of lord Stawell's brother; it will be a pure
bite. This letter has 199 lines in it, besides all
postscripts; I had a curiosity to reckon.
There is a long letter for you.
It is longer than a sermon, faith.
I had another letter from Mrs. Fenton, who says
you were with her. I hope you did not go on
purpose. I will answer her letter soon; it is about
some money in lady Giffard's hands.
They say you have had eight packets due to you;
so pray, madams, do not blame Presto, but the wind.
My humble service to Mrs. Walls and Mrs. Stoyte;
I missed the former a good while.
LETTER THE TWELFTH.
London, Dec. 23, 1710.
I HAVE sent my 11th to-night as usual, and begin
the dozenth, and told you I dined with Stratford at
lord Mountjoy's, and I will tell you no more at
present: guess for why; because I am going to
mind things, and mighty affairs, not your nasty
first-fruits. I let them alone till Mr. Harley gets
the queen's letter, but other things of greater
moment, that you shall know one day, when the
So sit still a
ducks have eaten up all the dirt.
while just by me while I am studying, and do not
say a word, I charge you, and when I am going to
bed, I will take you along, and talk with you a
little while; so there, sit there.-Come then, let us
see what we have to say to these saucy brats,
that will not let us go sleep at past eleven. Why, I
am a little impatient to know how you do; but that
I take it for a standing maxim, that when you are
silent, all is pretty well, because that is the way I
will deal with you; and if there was anything you
ought to know now, I would write by the first
post, although I had written but the day before.
Remember this, young women, and God Almighty
that
preserve you both, and make us happy together;
and tell me how accounts stand between us, you
I
may be paid long before it is due, not to want.
will return no more money while I stay, so that you
need not be in pain to be paid; but let me know at
least a month before you can want. Observe this,
you hear, little dear sirrahs, and love Presto as
Presto loves MD, &c.
do
24. You will have a merrier Christmas eve than
we here. I went up to court before church, and
in one of the rooms, there being but little company,
a fellow in a red coat without a sword came up to
me, and after words of course, asked me how the
ladies did. I asked what ladies? He said Mrs.
Dingley and Mrs. Johnson: very well, said I, when
I heard from them last: and pray, when came you
from thence, sir? He said, I never was in Ireland;
and just at that word lord Winchelsea comes up to
me, and the man went off as I went out I saw him
again, and recollected him; it was Vedeau with a
pox. I then went and made my apologies, that my
head was full of something I had to say to lord
Winchelsea, &c., and I asked after his wife, and so
all was well, and he inquired after my lodging,
because he had some favour to desire of me in
Ireland, to recommend somebody to somebody, I
know not what it is. When I came from church I
went up to court again, where sir Edmund Bacon
told me the bad news from Spain," which you will
hear before this reaches you; as we have it now, we
are undone there, and it was odd to see the whole
countenances of the court changed so in two hours.
Lady Mountjoy carried me home to dinner, where I
stayed not long after, and came home early, and now
am got into bed, for you must always write to your
MD's in bed, that is a maxim.
Mr. White and Mr. Red, Write to MD when abed;
Mr. Black and Mr. Brown, Write to MD when you are down;
Mr. Oak and Mr. Willow, Write to MD on your pillow.
What is this? faith I smell fire; what can it be?
this house has a thousand stinks in it. I think to
leave it on Thursday, and lodge over the way.
Faith I must rise, and look at my chimney, for the
smell grows stronger; stay-I have been up, and in
my room, and found all safe, only a mouse within
the fender to warm himself, which I could not catch.
I smelt nothing there, but now in my bed-chamber
I smell it again; I believe I have singed the woollen
curtains, and that is all, though I cannot smoke it.
Presto 's plaguy silly to-night; is not he? Yes,
and so he be. Ay, but if I should wake and
see fire. Well; I will venture; so good night, &c.
25. Pray, young women, if I write so much as
this every day, how will this paper hold a fortnight's
work, and answer one of yours into the bargain?
You never think of this, but let me go on like a
simpleton. I wish you a merry Christmas, and
many, many a one with poor Presto at some pretty
place. I was at church to-day by eight, and received
the sacrament, and came home by ten: then went
to court at two. It was a collar-day, that is, when
the knights of the Garter wear their collars; but the
queen stayed so late at sacrament, that I came back,
and dined with my neighbour Ford, because all
people dine at home on this day. This is likewise a
collar-day all over England in every house, at least
where there is brawn: that is very well.-I tell you
a good pun: a fellow hard by pretends to cure agues,
and has set out a sign, and spells it egoes; a gentle-
man and I observing it, he said, How does that
a A shopkeeper, and left his counter and trade for the
army.
The loss of the battle of Villa Viciosa.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
163
fellow pretend to cure agues? I said, I did not
know, but I was sure it was not by a spell. That is
admirable. And so you asked the bishop about that
pun of lord Stawell's brother. Bite. Have I
caught you, young women? Must you pretend to
ask after roguish puns, and Latin ones too?
O
but you smoke me, and did not ask the bishop. O
you are a fool, and you did. I met Vedeau again
at court to-day, and I observed he had a sword on.
I fancy he was broke (as a trader), and has got a
commission, but I never asked him. Vedeau I
think his name is, yet Parvisol's man is Vedel, that
is true. Bank stock will fall like stockfish by this
bad news, and two days ago I could have got 121.
by my bargain; but do not intend to sell, and in
time it will rise. It is odd that my lord Peter-
borow foretold this loss two months ago, one night |
at Mr. Harley's, when I was there : he bid us count
upon it, that Stanhope would lose Spain before
Christmas; that he would venture his head upon it,
and give us reasons; and though Mr. Harley argued
the contrary, he still held to his opinion. I was
telling my lord Anglesea this at court this morning,
and a gentleman by said, he had heard my lord
Peterborow affirm the same thing. I have heard
wise folks say, An ill tongue may do much. And it is
an old saying.
Once I guess'd right, and I got credit by it;
Thrice I guess'd wrong, and I kept my credit on.
No, it is you are sorry, not I.
26. By the lord Harry I shall be done here with
Christmas-boxes. The rogues at the coffeehouse
have raised their tax, every one giving a crown, and
I gave mine for shame, besides a great many half-
crowns, to great men's porters, &c. I went to-day
by water into the city, and dined with no less a man
than the city printer. There is an enmity between
us, built upon reasons that you shall know when I
see you: but the rain caught me within twelve- |
penny length of home. I called at Mr. Harley's,
who was not within, dropped my half-crown with
his porter, drove to the coffeehouse, where the rain
kept me till nine. I had letters to-day from the
archbishop of Dublin, and Mr. Bernage: the latter
sends me a melancholy account of lady Shelburn's
death, and his own disappointments, and would
gladly be a captain; if I can help him I will.
27. Morning.-I bespoke a lodging over the way
for to-morrow, and the dog let it yesterday to another.
I gave him no earnest, so it seems he could do it.
Patrick would have had me give him earnest to
bind him; but I would not. So I must go saunter
to-day for a lodging somewhere else. Did you ever
see so open a winter in England? We have not had
two frosty days; but it pays it off in rain: we have
not had three fair days these six weeks.
O faith,
I dreamed mightily of MD last night; but so con-
fused I cannot tell a word. I have made Ford ac-
quainted with Lewis, and to-day we dined together:
in the evening I called at one or two neighbours,
hoping to spend a Christmas evening; but none were
at home, they were all gone to be merry with others.
I have often observed this, that in merry times every
body is abroad; where the deuce are they? So I
went to the coffeehouse and talked with Mr. Addison
an hour, who at last remembered to give me two
letters, which I cannot answer to-night, nor to-morrow
neither, I can assure you, young women, count upon
that. I have other things to do than to answer
naughty girls; an old saying and true.
Letters from MD's
Must not be answered in ten days:
It is but bad rhyme, &c.
Mr. John Barber, afterwards lord mayor.
28. To-day I had a message from sir Thomas
Hanmer to dine with him: the famous Dr. Small-
ridge [afterwards bishop of Bristol] was of the com-
pany, and we sat till six, and I came home to my
new lodgings in St. Alban Street, where I pay the
same rent (eight shillings a week) for an apartment
two pair of stairs; but I have the use of the parlour
to receive persons of quality, and I am got into my
new bed, &c.
29. Sir Andrew Fountaine has been very ill this
week, and sent to me early this morning to have
prayers, which you know is the last thing. I found
the doctors and all in despair about him. I read
prayers to him, found he had settled all things; and
when I came out the nurse asked me, whether I
thought it possible he could live, for the doctors
thought not.
thought not. I said, I believed he would live; for I
found the seeds of life in him, which I observe seldom
fail; (and I found them in poor dearest Stella, when
she was ill many years ago;) and to-night I was with
him again, and he was mightily recovered, and I hope
he will do well, and the doctor approved my reasons;
but if he should die, I should come off scurvily. The
secretary of state (Mr. St. John) sent to me to dine
with him; Mr. Harley and lord Peterborow dined there
|
too, and at night came lord Rivers. Lord Peterborow
goes to Vienna in a day or two; he has promised to
make me write to him. Mr. Harley went away about
six, but we stayed till seven. I took the secretary aside,
and complained to him of Mr. Harley, that he got the
queen to grant the first-fruits, promised to bring me
to her, and get her letter to the bishops of Ireland;
but the last part he had not done in six weeks, and
I was in danger to lose reputation, &c. He took
the matter right, desired me to be with him on
Sunday morning, and promised me to finish the affair
in four days; so I shall know in a little time what
I have to trust to.-It is nine o'clock, and I must go
study, you little rogues; and so good night, &c.
—
I have
30. Morning.-The weather grows cold, you
sauceboxes. Sir Andrew Fountaine, they bring me
word, is better. I will go rise, for my hands are
starving while I write in bed. Night. Now sir
Andrew Fountaine is recovering he desires to be at
ease; for I called in the morning to read prayers,
but he had given orders not to be disturbed.
lost a legacy by his living; for he told me he had left
me a picture and some books, &c. I called to see my
quondam neighbour Ford, (do you know what quon-
dam is, though?) and he engaged me to dine with
him; for he always dines at home on opera days.
I came home at six, writ to the archbishop, then
studied till past eleven, and stole to bed, to write to
MD these few lines to let you know I am in good
health at the present writing hereof, and hope in
God MD is so too. I wonder I never write politics
to you: I could make you the profoundest politician
in all the lane.-Well, but when shall we answer
this letter, No. 8, of MD's? Not till next year, faith.
O Lord-bo-but that will be a Monday next.
Cod's so, is it? and so it is never saw the like.-
I made a pun the other day to Ben Portlack about a
pair of drawers. Poh, said he, that is mine a-all over.
Pray, pray, Dingley, let me go sleep; pray, pray,
Stella, let me go slumber, and put out my wax candle.
31. Morning.-It is now seven, and I have got a
fire, but am writing abed in my bedchamber. It is
not shaving day, so I shall be ready early to go
before church to Mr. St. John, and to-morrow I will
answer our MD's letter.
Would you answer MD's letter,
On New-year's day you will do it better.
For when the year with MD 'gins,
It without MD never lins.
M 2
164
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
(These proverbs have always old words in them; lins
is leave off.)
But if on New-year you write nones,
MD then will bang your bones.-
But Patrick says I must rise. Night.-I was early
this morning with secretary St. John, and gave him
a memorial to get the queen's letter for the first-fruits,
who has promised to do it in a very few days. He
told me he had been with the duke of Marlborough,
who was lamenting his former wrong steps in joining
with the Whigs, and said he was worn out with age,
fatigues and misfortunes. I swear it pitied me; and
I really think they will not do well in too much
mortifying that man, although indeed it is his own
fault. He is coveteous as hell, and ambitious as
the prince of it: he would fain have been general
for life, and has broken all endeavours for peace, to
keep his greatness and get money. He told the
queen he was neither covetous nor ambitious. She
said, if she could have conveniently turned about, she
would have laughed, and could hardly forbear it in
his face. He fell in with all the abominable mea-
sures of the late ministry, because they gratified him
for their own designs. Yet he has been a successful
general, and I hope he will continue his command.
O Lord, smoke the politics to MD. Well; but
if you like them, I will scatter a little now and then,
and mine are all fresh from the chief hands. Well,
I dined with Mr. Harley, and came away at six:
there was much company, and I was not merry
at all. Mr. Harley made me read a paper of verses
of Prior's. I read them plain without any fine
manner, and Prior swore I should never read any of
his again; but he would be revenged, and read some
of mine as bad. I excused myself, and said, I was
famous for reading verses the worst in the world,
and that everybody snatched them from me when I
offered to begin. So we laughed.-Sir Andrew
Fountaine still continues ill. He is plagued with
some sort of bile.
January 1. Morning.-I wish my dearest pretty
Dingley and Stella a happy new-year, and health and
mirth, and good stomachs, and Fr's company. Faith,
I did not know how to write Fr. I wondered what
was the matter; but now I remember I always write
Pdfr. Patrick wishes me a happy new year, and
desires I would rise, for it is a good fire, and faith it
is cold. I was so politic last night with MD,
never saw the like. Get the Examiners, and read
them; the last nine or ten are full of the reasons
for the late change, and of the abuses of the last
ministry; and the great men assure me they are all
true. They are written by their encouragement
and direction. I must rise and go see Sir Andrew
Fountaine; but perhaps to-night I may answer MD's
letter; so good morrow, my mistresses all, good
morrow.
I wish you both a merry new year,
Roast beef, minced pies, and good strong beer,
And me a share of your good cheer;
That I was there, or you were here,
And you are a little saucy dear.
Good morrow again, dear sirrahs; one cannot rise
for your play. At night.-I went this morning to
visit lady Kerry and lord Shelburn, and they made
me dine with them.
Sir Andrew Fountaine is
better. And now let us come and see what this
saucy dear letter of MD says. Come out, letter,
come out from between the sheets; here it is under-
neath, and it will not come out. Come out again,
say; so there.
Here it is. What says Presto to
me, pray? says it. Come, and let me answer for
you to your ladies. Hold up your head then, like
• Swift read very badly.
I
a good letter. There. Pray, how have you got up
with Presto, madam Stella? You write your 8th
when you receive mine: now I write my 12th when I
receive your 8th. Do not you allow for what are upon
the road, simpleton? what say you to that? and so
you kept Presto's little birthday, I warrant: would
to God I had been at the health, rather than here,
where I have no manner of pleasure, nothing but
eternal business upon my hands. I shall
I shall grow wise
with my heart and vitals, that we may never be
in time; but no more of that: only I say Amen
asunder again ten days together while poor Presto
lives.
I cannot be merry so
near any splenetic talk; so I made that long line,
and now all is well again. Yes, you are a pretend-
ing slut, indeed, with your 4th and 5th in the margin,
and your journal, and every thing. Wind-we saw
no wind here, nothing at all extraordinary at any
time. We had it once when you had it not. But
an old saying and a true;
I
I hate all winds before and behind,
From cheeks with eyes, or from blind.
Your chimney fall down! God preserve you.
suppose you only mean a brick or two: but that is
a damned lie of your chimney being carried to the
next house with the wind. Do not put such things
upon us; those matters will not pass here; keep a
little to possibilities. My lord Hertford would
have been ashamed of such a stretch. You should
take care of what company you converse with:
when one gets that faculty, it is hard to break one's
self of it. Jemmy Leigh talks of going over, but
quando? I do not know when he will go. O, now
you have had my 9th, now you are come up with
I know all
me; marry, come up with you, indeed.
that business of lady S. Will nobody cut that
D- -y's throat? Five hundred pounds do you
call poor pay for living three months the life of a
king? They say she died with grief, partly being
forced to appear as witness in court about some
squabble among their servants. The bishop of
Clogher showed you a pamphlet. Well, but you
must not give your mind to believe those things;
people will say anything. The character is here
reckoned admirable, but most of the facts are trifles.
It was first printed privately here; and then some
bold cur ventured to do it publicly, and sold two
thousand in two days: who the author is must
remain uncertain. Do you pretend to know, impu-
dence? how durst you think so? pox on your par-
liaments: the archbishop has told me of it; but we
do not vouchsafe to know anything of it here. No,
no, no more giddiness yet: thank you, Stella, for
asking after it; thank you; God Almighty bless
you for your kindness to poor Presto! You write
to lady Giffard and your mother upon what I ad-
vise, when it is too late. But yet I fancy this bad
news will bring down stocks so low that one might
buy to great advantage. I design to venture going
to see your mother some day when lady Giffard is
abroad. Well, keep your Rathburn and stuff. I
thought he was to pay in your money upon his
houses to be flung down about the what do you call
it?—Well, madam Dingley, I sent your inclosed to
Bristol, but have not heard from Raymond since he
went. Come, come, young women, I keep a good
fire; it costs me twelvepence a-week, and I fear
something more; vex me, and I will have one in
my bedchamber too. No, did not I tell you but
just now, we have no high winds here? Have you
forgot already? Now you are at it again, silly
Stella; why does your mother say my candles are
scandalous? they are good sixes in the pound, and
she said I was extravagant enough to burn them by
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
165
daylight. I never burn fewer at a time than one.
What would people have? the d- burst Hawk-
shaw. He told me he had not the box, and the
next day Sterne a told me he had sent it a fortnight
ago: Patrick could not find him the other day, but
he shall to-morrow: dear life and heart, do you
teaze me? does Stella teaze Presto? that palsy
water was in the box: it was too big for a packet,
and I was afraid of its breaking. Leigh was not in
town then, or I would not have trusted it to Sterne,
whom yet I have befriended enough to do me more
kindness than that. I will never rest till you have
it, or till it is in a way for you to have it.
to have it. Poor
dear rogue, naughty to think it teazes me: how
could I ever forgive myself for neglecting any thing
that related to your health? sure I were a devil if I
did. ****
***** See how far I
I am forced to stand from Stella, because I am
afraid she thinks poor Presto has not been careful
about her little things; I am sure I bought them
immediately according to order, and packed them
up with my own hands, and sent them to Sterne,
and was six times with him about sending them
away. I am glad you are pleased with your glasses.
I have got another velvet cap, a new one lord Her-
bert bought and presented me one morning I was
at breakfast with him, where he was as merry and
easy as ever I saw him, yet had received a challenge
half an hour before, and half an hour after fought a
duel. It was about ten days ago. You are mis-
taken in your guesses about Tatlers: I did neither
write that on Noses, nor Religion, nor do I send
him of late any hints at all.-Indeed, Stella, when
I read your letter I was not uneasy at all; but
when I came to answer the particulars, and found
that you had not received your box, it grated me to
the heart, because I thought through your little
words, that you imagined I had not taken the care
I ought. But there has been some blunder in this
matter, which I will know to-morrow, and write to
Sterne, for fear he should not be within.-And
pray, pray, Presto, pray now do.-No, Raymond
was not above four times with me while he stayed,
and then only while I was dressing. Mrs. Fenton
has written me another letter about some money of
hers in lady Giffard's hands, that is entrusted to
me by my mother, not to come to her husband. I
send my letters constantly every fortnight, and if
you will have them oftener you may, but then they
will be the shorter. Pray, let Parvisol sell the
horse. I think I spoke to you of it in a former
letter: I am glad you are rid of him, and was in
pain while I thought you rode him; but if he would
buy you another, or any body else, and that you
could be often able to ride, why do not you do it?
2. I went this morning early to the secretary of
state, Mr. St. John, and he told me from Mr. Har-
ley, that the warrant was now drawn, in order for a
patent for the first-fruits: it must pass through
several offices and take up some time, because in
things the queen gives they are always considerate;
but that he assures me it is granted and done, and
past all dispute, and desires I will not be in any
pain at all. I will write again to the archbishop
to-morrow, and tell him this, and I desire you will
say it on occasion. From the secretary I went to
Mr. Sterne, who said he would write to you to-
night, and that the box must be at Chester, and that
some friend of his goes very soon, and will carry it
over. I dined with Mr. Secretary St. John, and at
six went to Darteneuf's house to drink punch with
him, and Mr. Addison, and little Harrison, a young
Enoch Sterne, esq., clerk to the house of lords in Ire-
land.
|
poet whose fortune I am making. Steele was to
have been there, but came not, nor never did twice
since I knew him to any appointment. I stayed
till past eleven, and am now in bed. Steele's last
Tatler came out to-day. You will see it before this
comes to you, and how he takes leave of the world.
He never told so much as Mr. Addison of it, who
was surprised as much as I; but to say the truth, it
was time, for he grew cruel dull and dry. To my
knowledge he had several good hints to go upon:
but he was so lazy and weak of the work, that he
would not improve them. I think I will send this
after to-morrow: shall I before it is full, Dingley?
3. Lord Peterborow yesterday called me into a
barber's shop, and there we talked deep politics:
he desired me to dine with him to-day at the Globe
in the Strand: he said he would show me so clearly
how to get Spain, that I could not possibly doubt
it. I went to-day accordingly, and saw him among
half a dozen lawyers and attorneys and hang dogs,
signing deeds and stuff before his journey; for he
goes to-morrow to Vienna. I sat among that scurvy
company till after four, but heard nothing of Spain;
only I find by what he told me before, that he fears
he shall do no good in his present journey. We are
to be mighty constant correspondents. So I took
my leave of him, and called at Sir Andrew Foun-
taine's, who mends much. I came home an't please
you at six, and have been studying till now past
eleven.
4. Morning.-Morrow, little dears. O faith, I
have been dreaming; I was to be put in prison, I
do not know why, and I was so afraid of a black
dungeon: and then all I had been inquiring yester-
day of sir Andrew Fountaine's sickness I thought
was of poor Stella.
Stella. The worst of dreams is, that
one wakes just in the humour they leave one. Shall
I send this to-day? with all my heart: it is two
days within the fortnight; but may be MD are in
haste to have a round dozen, and then how are you
to come up to me with your 8th, young women?
But you indeed ought to write twice slower than I,
because there are two of
because there are two of you; I own that.-Well
then, I will seal up this letter by my morning can-
dle, and carry it into the city with me, where I go to
dine, and put it in the post-office with my own fair
hands. So let me see whether I have any news to
tell MD. They say they will very soon make some
inquiries into the corruptions of the late ministry;
and they must do it, to justify their turning them
out. Atterbury, [who succeeded] we think is to be
the dean of Christchurch in Oxford; but the col-
lege would rather have Smallridge.-What is all
this to you? what care you for Atterburys and
Smallridges? No, you care for nothing but Presto,
faith. So I will rise and bid you farewell; yet I
am loth to do so, because there is a great bit of
paper yet to talk upon; but Dingley will have it
so yes, says she, make your journals shorter, and
send them oftener; and so I will. And I have
cheated you another way too; for this is clipped
paper, and holds at least six lines less than the for-
mer ones. I will tell you a good thing I said to my
lord Carteret. So, says he, my Lord
up to me, and asked me, &c. No, said I, my Lord
never did, nor ever can come up to you. We
all pun here sometimes. Lord Carteret set down
Prior the other day in his chariot, and Prior thanked
him for his charity; that was fit for Dilly [Dillon
Ashe]. I do not remember I heard one good one
from the ministry, which is really a shame. Henley
is gone to the country for Christmas. The puppy
comes here without his wife, and keeps no house,
and would have me dine with him at eating-houses;
came
166
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
but I have only done it once, and will do it no
more. He had not seen me for some time in the
coffeehouse, and, asking after me, desired lord
Herbert to tell me, I was a beast for ever after the
order of Melchisedec. Did you ever read the Scrip-
ture? it is only changing the word priest to beast.
-I think I am bewitched to write so much in a
morning to you, little MD. Let me go, will you?
and I will come again to-night in a fine clean sheet
of paper; but I can nor will stay no longer now;
no, I will not, for all your wheedling: no, no, look
off, do not smile at me, and say, pray, pray, Presto,
write a little more. Ah! you are a wheedling slut,
you be so. Nay, but pray thee turn about, and let
me go, do it is a good girl, and do.
O faith, my
morning candle is just out, and I must go now in
spite of my teeth; for my bed-chamber is dark with
curtains, and I am at the wrong side. So farewell,
&c. &c.
I am in the dark almost: I must have another
candle when I am up to seal this; but I will fold it
up in the dark, and make what you can of this, for
I can only see this paper I am writing upon. Ser-
vice to Mrs. Walls and Mrs. Stoyte.
God Almighty bless you, &c. What I am doing
I cannot see; but I will fold it up, and not look on
it again.
LETTER THE THIRTEENTH.
London, Jan. 4, 1710-11.
I was going into the city (where I dined) and put
my 12th with my own fair hands into the post-office
as I came back, which was not till nine this night.
I dined with people that you never heard of, nor is
it worth your while to know; an authoress and a
printer. I walked home for exercise, and at eleven
got into bed; and all the while I was undressing
myself, there was I speaking monkey things in air,
just as if MD had been by, and did not recollect
myself till I got into bed. I writ last night to the
I writ last night to the
archbishop, and told him the warrant was drawn for
the first-fruits, and I told him lord Peterborow
was set out for his journey to Vienna: but it seems
the lords have addressed to have him stay to be
examined about Spanish affairs, upon this defeat
there, and to know where the fault lay, &c. So I
write to the archbishop a lie; but I think it was not
a sin.
5. Mr. Secretary St. John sent for me this morn-
ing so early, that I was forced to go without shaving,
which put me quite out of method: I called at Mr.
Ford's, and desired him to lend me a shaving, and
so made a shift to get into order again. Lord!
here is an impertinence: sir Andrew Fountaine's
mother and sister are come above a hundred miles
from Worcester to see him before he died. They
got here but yesterday, and he must have been past
hopes, or past fears, before they could reach him.
I fell a scolding when I heard they were coming;
and the people about him wondered at me, and
said what a mighty content it would be on both
sides to die when they were with him. I knew the
mother; she is the greatest overdo upon earth, and
the sister, they say, is worse; the poor man will
relapse again among them. Here was the scoundrel
brother always crying in the outer room till sir
Andrew was in danger, and the dog was to have all
his estate if he died; and it is an ignorant, worth-
Jess, scoundrel rake; and the nurses were comfort-
ing him, and desiring he would not take on so. I
dined to-day the first time with Ophy Butler and
his wife; and you supped with the dean, and lost
two-and-twenty pence at cards. And so Mrs
Walls is brought to bed of a girl, who died two days
after it was christened; and betwixt you and me,
she is not very sorry; she loves her ease and diver-
sions too well to be troubled with children. I will
go to bed.
Yes.
6. Morning.-I went last night to put some coals
on my fire after Patrick was gone to bed; and there
I saw in a closet a poor linnet he has bought to
bring over to Dingley; it cost him sixpence, and is
as tame as a dormouse. I believe he does not know
he is a bird; where you put him there he stands,
and seems to have neither hope nor fear; I suppose
in a week he will die of the spleen. Patrick advised
with me before he bought him. I laid fairly before
him the greatness of the sum, and the rashness of
the attempt; showed how impossible it was to carry
him safe over the salt sea; but he would not take
It is
my counsel, and he will repent it. It is very cold
this morning in bed, and I hear there is a good fire
in the room without, what do you call it, the dining-
room. I hope it will be good weather, and so let
me rise, sirrahs, do so. At night.-I was this morn-
ing to visit the dean, or Mr. Prolocutor, I think
you call him, do not you? Why should not I go to
the dean's as well as you? A little black man of
pretty near fifty? Ay, the same. A good pleasant
man? Ay, the same. Cunning enough?
One that understands his own interest? As well
as any body. How comes it MD and I do not
meet there sometimes? A very good face, and
abundance of wit; do you know his lady? O Lord!
whom do you mean? I mean Dr. Atterbury, dean
of Carlisle, and prolocutor. Pshaw, Presto, you
are a fool; I thought you had meant our dean
of St. Patrick's. Silly, silly, silly, you are silly, both
are silly, every kind of thing is silly. As I walked
into the city, I was stopped with clusters of boys
and wenches, buzzing about the cakeshops like flies.
There had the fools let out their shops two yards
forward into the streets, all spread with great cakes
frothed with sugar, and stuck with streamers of
tinsel. And then I went to Bateman's, the book-
seller, and laid out eight-and-forty shillings for
books. I bought three little volumes of Lucian, in
French, for our Stella, and so, and so. Then I
went to Garraway's, to meet Stratford, and dine
with him; but it was an idle day with the mer-
chants, and he was going to our end of the town;
so I dined with sir Thomas Frankland, at the post-
It was
office, and we drank your Manley's health,
in a newspaper that he was turned out, but secretary
St. John told me it was false; only that newswriter
is a plaguy Tory. I have not seen one bit of Christ-
mas merriment.
7. Morning.-Your new lord-chancellor sets out
He
to-morrow for Ireland: I never saw him.
carries over one Trapp, a parson, as his chaplain, a
sort of pretender to wit, a second-rate pamphleteer
for the cause, whom they pay by sending him to
Ireland. I never saw Trapp neither. I met Tighe,
and your Smyth, of Lovet's, yesterday by the Ex-
change. Tighe and I took no notice of each other;
but I stopped Smyth, and told him of the box that
lies for you at Chester, because he says he goes very
soon to Ireland, I think this week; and I will send
this morning to Sterne, to take measures with
Smyth; so good-morrow, sirrahs, and let me rise,
pray. I took up this paper when I came in at even-
ing, I mean this minute, and then said I, No, no,
indeed, MD, you must stay, and then was laying it
aside, but could not for my heart, though I am very
busy, till I just ask you how you do since morning;
by and by we shall talk more, so let me lay you softly
down, little paper, till then; so there-now to
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
167
|
9. To-day Ford and I set apart to go into the city
to buy books; but we only had a scurvy dinner at
an alehouse, and he made me go to the tavern, and
drink Florence, four and sixpence a flask; damned
wine! so I spent my money, which I seldom do,
and past an insipid day, and saw nobody, and it is
now ten o'clock, and I have nothing to say, but that
it is a fortnight to-morrow since I had a letter from
MD, but if I have it time enough to answer here, it
betide you, faith:
is well enough, otherwise woe
I will go to the toyman's here just in Pall-mall, and
he sells great hugeous batoons; yes, faith, and so he
does. Does not he, Dingley? Yes, faith. Do not
lose your money this Christmas.
business; there, I say, get you gone; no, I will not force, though I told him I was in love with his lady,
push you neither, but hand you on one side-So- and it was a shame to keep back a lover, &c. But
all would not do. So at last I was forced to break
Now I am got into bed, I will talk with you. Mr.
Secretary St. John sent for me this morning in all away, but never went up, it was then too late; and
haste; but I would not lose my shaving for fear of here I am, and have a great deal to do to-night,
missing church. I went to court, which is of late though it be nine o'clock; but one must say some-
always very full, and young Manley and I dined at thing to these naughty MD's, else there will be no
sir Matthew Dudley's. I must talk politics.
I quiet.
protest I am afraid we shall all be embroiled with
parties. The Whigs, now they are fallen, are the
most malicious toads in the world. We have had
now a second misfortune, the loss of several Virginia
ships. I fear people will begin to think that no-
thing thrives under this ministry; and if the ministry
can once be rendered odious to the people, the par-
liament may be chosen Whig or Tory, as the queen
pleases. Then I think our friends press a little too
hard on the duke of Marlborough. The country
members are violent to have past faults inquired
into, and they have reason; but I do not observe
the ministry to be very fond of it. In my opinion,
we have nothing to save us but a peace, and I am
sure we cannot have such a one as we hoped, and
then the Whigs will bawl what they would have
done had they continued in power. I tell the
ministry this as much as I dare, and shall venture to
say a little more to them, especially about the duke
of Marlborough, who, as the Whigs give out, will
lay down his command; and I question whether
ever any wise state laid aside a general who had
been successful nine years together, whom the
enemy so much dreaded, and his own soldiers can-
not but believe must always conquer; and you
know that in war opinion is nine parts in ten.
ministry hear me always with appearance of regard,
and much kindness; but I doubt they let personal
quarrels mingle too much with their proceedings.
Meantime, they seem to value all this as nothing,
and are as easy and merry as if they had nothing in
their hearts, or upon their shoulders; like physi-
cians, who endeavour to cure, but feel no grief,
whatever the patient suffers. Pshaw what is all
this? Do you know one thing, that I find I can
write politics to you much easier than to any body |
alive? But I swear my head is full, and I wish I
were at Laracor, with my dear charming MD, &c.
The
8. Morning.-Methinks, young women, I have
made a great progress in four days, at the bottom of
this side already, and no letter yet come from MD.
(That word interlined is morning.) I find I have
been writing state affairs to MD. How do they
relish it? Why, any thing that comes from Presto
is welcome; though really, to confess the truth, if
they had their choice, not to disguise the matter,
they had rather, &c. Now, Presto, I must tell
you, you grow silly, says Stella. That is but
one body's opinion, madam. I promised to be
with Mr. Secretary St. John this morning; but I
am lazy, and will not go, because I had a letter
from him yesterday, to desire I would dine there
to-day. I shall be chid, but what care I? Here
has been Mrs. South with me, just come from sir
Andrew Fountaine, and going to market.
still in a fever, and may live or die. His mother
and sister are now come up, and in the house, so
there is a lurry. I gave Mrs. South half a pistole
for a new year's gift; so good morrow, dears, both,
At night.-Lord, I have been with
Mr. Secretary from dinner till eight; and, though
I drank wine and water, I am so hot. Lady
Stanley came to visit Mr. St. John, and sent up for
me, to make up a quarrel with Mrs. St. John, whom
I never yet saw; and do you think that devil of a
secretary would not let me go, but kept me by main
till anon.
He is
10. I must go this morning to Mr. Secretary St.
John.
John. I promised yesterday, but failed, so I cannot
At
write any more till night, to poor dear MD.
night.-O, faith, Dingley, I had company in the
morning, and could not go where I designed; and
I had a basket from Raymond at Bristol, with six
bottles of wine, and a pound of chocolate, and some
tobacco to snuff; and he writ under, the carriage
was paid; but he lied, or I am cheated, or there is a
mistake; and he has written to me so confusedly
about things, that Lucifer could not understand him.
This wine is to be drank with Harley's brother and
sir Robert Raymond, solicitor-general, in order to
recommend the doctor to your new lord chancellor,
who left this place on Monday, and Raymond says
I suppose
he is hasting to Chester to go with him.
he leaves his wife behind; for, when he left London,
he had no thoughts of stirring till summer.
suppose he will be with you before this.
came and desired I would dine with him, because it
was opera day, which I did, and sent excuses to lord
Shelburn, who had invited me.
So I
Ford
but
11. I am setting up a new Tatler, little Harrison,
Others have put
whom I have mentioned to you.
him on it, and I encourage him; and he was with
me this morning and evening, showing me his first,
which comes out on Saturday. I doubt he will not
succeed, for I do not much approve his manner;
the scheme is Mr. Secretary St. John's and mine,
and would have done well enough in good hands.
I recommended him to a printer, whom I sent for,
and settled the matter between them this evening.
Harrison has just left me, and I am tired with cor-
recting his trash.
12. I was this morning upon some business with
Mr. Secretary St. John, and he made me promise to
dine with him, which otherwise I would have done
with Mr. Harley, whom I have not been with these
ten days. I cannot but think they have mighty dif-
ficulties upon them; yet I always find them as easy
and disengaged as schoolboys on a holiday. Harley
has the procuring of five or six millions on his shoul-
ders, and the Whigs will not lend a groat; which is
the only reason of the fall of stocks; for they are
like Quakers and fanatics, that will only deal
among themselves, while all others deal indiffer-
ently with them. Lady Marlborough offers, if they
will let her keep her employments, never to
come into the queen's presence. The Whigs say
the duke of Marlborough will serve no more;
but I hope and think otherwise. I would to
heaven I were this minute with MD at Dublin ;
168
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
for I am weary of politics that give me such me-
lancholy prospects.
13. O faith, I had an ugly giddy fit last night in
my chamber, and I have got a new box of pills to
take, and hope I shall have no more this good while.
I would not tell you before, because it would vex
you, little rogues: but now it is over. I dined to-
day with lord Shelburn, and to-day little Harrison's
new Tatler came out; there is not much in it, but
I hope he will mend. You must understand that,
upon Steele's leaving off, there were two or three
scrub Tatlers came out, and one of them holds on
still, and to-day it advertised against Harrison's;
and so there must be disputes which are genuine,
like the straps for razors. I am afraid the little toad
has not the true vein for it. I will tell you a copy
of verses. When Mr. St. John was turned out from
being secretary at war, three years ago, he retired
to the country; there he was talking of something
he would have written over his summer-house, and
a gentleman gave him these verses:-
From business and the noisy world retired,
Nor vex'd by love, nor by ambition fired,
Gently I wait the call of Charon's boat,
Still drinking like a fish, and -- like a goat.
He swore to me he could hardly bear the jest; for
he pretended to retire like a philosopher, though he
was but twenty-eight years old: and I believe the
thing was true; for he had been a thorough rake.
I think the three grave lines do introduce the last
well enough. Od so, but I will go sleep; I sleep
early now.
14. O faith, young women, I want a letter from
MD; it is now nineteen days since I had the last;
and where have I room to answer it, pray? I hope
I shall send this away without any answer at all;
for I will hasten it, and away it goes on Tuesday,
by which time this side will be full. I will send it
two days sooner on purpose out of spite, and the
very next day after, you must know, your letter will
come, and then it is too late, and I will so laugh,
never saw the like! It is spring with us already, I
ate asparagus the other day. Did you ever see such
a frostless winter? Sir Andrew Fountaine lies still
extremely ill; it costs him ten guineas a-day to
doctors, surgeons, and apothecaries, and has done
so these three weeks. I dined to-day with Mr.
Ford he sometimes chooses to dine at home, and I
am content to dine with him and at night I called
at the coffeehouse, where I had not been a week,
and talked coldly awhile with Mr. Addison: all our
friendship and dearness are off: we are civil ac-
quaintance, talked words of course, of when we shall
meet, and that is all. I have not been at any house
with him these six weeks: the other day we were
to have dined together at the comptroller's; but I
sent my excuses, being engaged to the secretary of
state. Is not it odd? But I think he has used me
ill, and I have used him too well, at least his friend
Steele.
15. It has cost me three guineas to-day for a peri-
wig. I am undone! It was made by a Leicester
lad, who married Mr. Worrell's daughter, where my
mother lodged; so I thought it would be cheap, and
especially since he lives in the city. Well, London
lickpenny: I find it true. I have given Harrison
I have given Harrison
hints for another Tatler to-morrow. The jackanapes
wants a right taste; I doubt he will not do. I dined
with my friend Lewis of the secretary's office, and am
got home early, because I have much business to do;
but before I begin I must needs say something to
MD, faith-No, faith, I lie, it is but nineteen days
to-day since my last from MD. I have got Mr.
Harley to promise that whatever changes are made
in the council, the bishop of Clogher shall not be
removed, and he has got a memorial accordingly. I
will let the bishop know so much in a post or two.
This is a secret; but I know he has enemies, and
they shall not be gratified, if they designed any such
thing, which perhaps they might; for some changes
there will be made. So drink up your claret and be
quiet, and do not lose your money.
16. Morning.-Faith I will send this letter to-day
to shame you, if I have not one from MD before
night, that is certain. Will not you grumble for
want of the third side, pray, now? Yes, I warrant
you: yes, yes, you shall have the third, you shall so,
when you can catch it, some other time; when you
be writing, girls.—O faith, I think I will not stay
till night, but seal up this just now, and carry it in
my pocket, and whip it into the post-office as I come
home at evening. I am going out early this morn-
ing.-Patrick's bills for coals and candles, &c., come
sometimes to three shillings a-week; I keep very
good fires, though the weather be warm. Ireland
will never be happy till you get some small coal
likewise; nothing so easy, so convenient, so cheap,
so pretty for lighting a fire. My service to Mrs.
Stoyte and Walls; has she a boy or a girl? A girl,
hmm; and died in a week, hmmm, and was poor
Stella forced to stand for godmother?—Let me know
how accounts stand, that you may have your money
betimes. There is four months for my lodging, that
must be thought on too: and so go dine with Man-
ley, and lose your money, do, extravagant sluttikin,
but do not fret.-It will be just three weeks when
I have the next letter, that is to-morrow. Farewell,
dearest beloved MD, and love poor, poor Presto,
who has not had one happy day since he left you,
as hope saved.-It is the last sally I will ever make,
but I hope it will turn to some account. I have
done more for these, and I think they are more
honest than the last (ministry); however, I will
not be disappointed. I would make MD and me
easy; and I never desired more. Farewell, &c., &c.
LETTER THE FOURTEENTH.
London, Jan. 16, 1710-11.
O FAITH, young women, I have sent my letter No.
13, without one crumb of an answer to any of MD's;
there is for you now; and yet Presto ben't angry
faith, not a bit, only he will begin to be in pain next
Irish post, except he sees MD's little handwriting
in the glass frame at the bar of St James's Coffee-
house, where Presto would never go but for that
purpose. Presto's at home, God help him, every
night from six till bed time, and has as little enjoy-
ment or pleasure in life at present as any body in
the world, although in full favour with all the
ministry. As hope saved, nothing gives Presto any
sort of dream of happiness, but a letter now and
then from his own dearest MD. I love the expect-
ation of it, and when it does not come, I comfort
faith, and when I write to MD, I am happy too; it
myself, that I have it yet, to be happy with.
is just as if methinks you were here, and I prating
to you, and telling you where I have been: Well,
says you, Presto, come, where have you been to-
day? come, let's hear now. And so then I answer;
and Prior has given me a fine Plautus, and then
Ford and I were visiting Mr Lewis, and Mr Prior,
Ford would have had me dine at his lodginge, and
so I would not; and so I dined with him at an
eating-house; which I have not done five times
since I came here; and so I came home, after visit-
ing sir Andrew Fountaine's mother and sister, and
sir Andrew Fountaine is mending, though slowly.
Yes,
17. I was making, this morning, some general
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
169
visits, and at twelve I called at the coffeehouse for a
letter from MD; so the man said he had given it to
Patrick; then I went to the Court of Requests and
Treasury to find Mr. Harley, and after some time
spent in mutual reproaches, I promised to dine with
him; I stayed there till seven, then I called at
Sterne's and Leigh's to talk about your box, and to
have it sent by Smyth. Sterne says he has been
making inquiries, and will set things right as soon
as possible. I suppose it lies at Chester, at least I
hope so, and only wants a lift over to you. Here
has little Harrison been to complain that the printer
I recommended to him for his Tatler is a coxcomb;
and yet to see how things will happen; for this very
printer is my cousin; his name is Dryden Leach;
did you never hear of Dryden Leach, he that prints
the Postman? He acted Oroonoko; he is in love
with Miss Cross.-Well, so I came home to read my
letter from Stella, but the dog Patrick was abroad;
at last he came, and I got my letter. I found another
hand had superscribed it: when I opened it, I found
it written all in French, and subscribed Bernage:
faith, I was ready to fling it at Patrick's head. Ber-
nage tells me, he had been to desire your recommen-
dation to me to make him a captain; and your
cautious answer, "That he had as much power with
me as you," was a notable one: if you were here I
would present you to the ministry as a person of
ability. Bernage should let me know where to
write to him; this is the second letter I have had
without any direction: however, I beg I may not
have a third, but that you will ask him, and send me
how I shall direct to him. In the mean time, tell
him, that if regiments are to be raised here, as he
says, I will speak to George Granville, secretary at
war, to make him a captain; and use what other
interest I conveniently can. I think that is enough,
and so tell him, and do not trouble me with his
letters when I expect them from MD; do you hear,
young women? write to Presto.
|
18. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary St. John,
and we were to dine at Mr. Harley's alone, about
some business of importance; but there were two
or three gentlemen there. Mr. Secretary and I went
together from his office to Mr. Harley's, and thought
to have been very wise; but the deuce a bit: the
company stayed, and more came, and Harley went
away at seven, and the secretary and I stayed with
the rest of the company till eleven; I would then
have had him come away, but he was in for it; and
though he swore he would come away at that flask,
there I left him. I wonder at the civility of these
people; when he saw I would drink no more, he
would always pass the bottle by me, and yet I could
not keep the toad from drinking himself, nor he
would not let me go neither, nor Masham, who was
with us.
When I got home I found a parcel di-
rected to me, and opening it, I found a pamphlet |
written entirely against myself, not by name, but
against something I writ: it is pretty civil, and affects
to be so, and I think I will take no notice of it it
is against something written very lately; and indeed
I know not what to say, nor do I care; and so you
are a saucy rogue for losing your money to-day at
Stoyte's; to let that bungler beat you! fie, Stella, are
not you ashamed? well, I forgive you this once,
never do so again; no, noo00. Kiss and be friends,
sirrah.- Come, let me go sleep. I go earlier to bed
than formerly; and have not been out so late these
two months; but the secretary was in a drinking
humour. So good night, myownlittledearsaucyin-
solentrogues.
19. Then you read that long word in the last line,
no faith, have not you. Well, when will this letter
come from our MD? to-morrow or next day with-
out fail; yes faith, and so it is coming. This was
an insipid snowy day, no walking day, and I dined
gravely with Mrs Vanhomrigh, and came home, and
am now got to bed a little after ten: I remember
old Culpepper's maxim :
Would you have a settled head, You must early go to bed:
I tell you, and I tell it again, You must be in bed at ten.
20. And so I went to-day with my new wig, o
hoao to visit Lady Worsley, whom I had not seen
before, although she was near a month in town.
Then I walked in the Park to find Mr. Ford, whom
I had promised to meet, and coming down the Mall,
who should come toward me but Patrick, and gives
me five letters out of his pocket. I read the super-
scription of the first, Pshoh, said I; of the second,
pshoh again; of the third, pshah, pshah, pshah;
of the fourth, a gad, a gad, a gad, I am in a rage; of
the fifth and last, O hoooa; ay marry, this is some-
thing, this is our MD; so truly we opened it, I think
immediately, and it began the most impudently in
the world, thus: Dear Presto, we are even thus
far. Now we are even, quoth Stephen, when he
gave his wife six blows for one.
I received your
ninth four days after I had sent my thirteenth.
But I will reckon with you anon about that, young
women. Why did you not recant at the end of
your letter when you got your eleventh? tell me
that, huzzies base, were we even then, were we,
sirrah? but I will not answer your letter now, I
will keep it for another time. We had a great deal
of snow to-day, and it is terrible cold. I dined with
Ford, because it was his opera-day and snowed, so I
did not care to stir farther. I will send to-morrow
to Smyth.
21. Morning. It has snowed terribly all night,
and is vengeance cold. I am not yet up, but cannot
write long; my hands will freeze. Is there a good
fire, Patrick?
fire, Patrick? Yes, sir. Then I will rise: come,
take away the candle. You must know I write
on the dark side of my bed-chamber, and am forced
to have a candle till I rise, for the bed stands be-
tween me and the window, and I keep the curtains
shut this cold weather. So pray let me rise, and,
Patrick, here, take away the candle. At night. We
are now here in high frost and snow; the largest fire
can hardly keep us warm. It is very ugly walking;
a baker's boy broke his thigh yesterday. I walk
slow, make short steps, and never tread on my
heel. It is a good proverb the Devonshire people
have:
Walk fast in snow,
In frost walk slow,
And still as you go,
Tread on your toe :
When frost and snow are both together,
Sit by the fire and spare shoe-leather.
I dined to-day with Dr. Cockburn, but will not do
so again in haste, he has generally such a parcel of
Scots with him.
M
22. Morning.-Starving, starving, uth, uth, uth,
uth, uth. Do not you remember I used to come
into your chamber, and turn Stella out of her chair,
and rake up the fire in a cold morning, and cry uth,
uth, uth? &c. O faith I must rise, my hand is so
cold I can write no more. So good morrow, sirrahs.
At night. I went this morning to lady Giffard's
house, and saw your mother, and made her give me
a pint bottle of palsy-water, which I brought home
in my pocket, and sealed and tied up in a paper, and
sent it to Mr. Smyth, who goes to-morrow for Ire-
land, and sent a letter to him to desire his care of it,
and that he would inquire at Chester about the box.
He was not within, so the bottle and letter were
left for him at his lodgings, with strict orders to
give them to him; and I will send Patrick in a day
170
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
or two, to know whether it was given, &c. Dr.
Stratford and I dined to-day with Mr. Stratford in
the city by appointment; but I chose to walk there
for exercise in the frost. But the weather had given |
a little, as you women call it, so it was something
slobbery. I did not get home till nine, and now I
am in bed to break your head.
23. Morning. They tell me it freezes again, but
it is not so cold as yesterday: so now I will answer
a bit of your letter. At night.-O faith I was just
going to answer some of our MD's letter this morn-
ing, when a printer came in about some business,
and stayed an hour; so I rose, and then came in
Ben Tooke, and then I shaved and scribbled, and it
was such a terrible day I could not stir out till one,
and then I called at Mrs. Barton's, and we went
to lady Worsley's, where we were to dine by ap-
pointment. The earl of Berkeley is going to be
married to lady Louisa Lennox, the duke of Rich-
mond's daughter. I writ this night to dean Sterne,
and bid him tell you all about the bottle of palsy-
water by Smyth, and to-morrow morning I will say
something to your letter.
24. Morning.-Come now to your letter. As for
your being even with me, I have spoken to that al-
ready. So now, my dearly beloved, let us proceed to
the next. You are always grumbling that you have
not letters fast enough, " surely we shall have your
10th ;" and yet before you end your letter, you own
you have my 11th.
11th. And why did not MD go into
the country with the bishop of Clogher? faith such
a journey would have done you good; Stella should
have rid, and Dingley gone in the coach. The bishop
of Kilmore I know nothing of; he is old and may
die: he lives in some obscure corner, for I never
hear of him. As for my old friends, if you mean
the Whigs, I never see them, as you may find by my
journals, except lord Halifax, and him very seldom;
lord Somers never since the first visit, for he has
been a false, deceitful r***1.a My new friends are
very kind, and I have promises enough, but I do
not count upon them; and besides, my pretences are
very young to them. However, we will see what
may be done, and if nothing at all, I shall not be
disappointed; although perhaps MD may, and then
I shall be sorrier for their sakes than my own. Talk
of a merry Christmas, (why did you write it so then,
young women? sauce for the goose is sauce for the
gander,) I have wished you all that two or three
letters ago.
Good lack; and your news, that Mr.
St. John is going to Holland; he has no such
thoughts to quit the great station he is in, nor if he
had, could I be spared to go with him. So faith,
politic madam Stella, you come with your two eggs
a penny, &c. Well, madam Dingley, and so Mrs.
Stoyte invites you, and so you stay at Donnybrook,
and so you could not write. You are plaguy exact
in your journals from December 25th to January 4th.
Well, Smyth and the palsy-water I have handled al-
ready, and he does not lodge (or rather did not, for,
poor man, now he is gone) at Mr. Jesse's, and all
that stuff; but we found his lodging, and I went to
Stella's mother on my own head, for I never remem-
bered it was in the letter to desire another bottle
but I was so fretted, so tosticated, and so impatient,
that Stella should have her water, (I mean decently,
don't be rogues,) and so vexed with Sterne's care-
lessness. Pray God Stella's illness may not return.
If they come seldom, they begin to be weary; I
judge by myself; for when I seldom visit, I grow
weary of my acquaintance. Leave a good deal of
my 10th unanswered-Impudent slut! when did you
a Swift had a great dislike to Somers.
;
ever answer my 10th, or 9th, or any other number?
or who desires you to answer, provided you write? I
defy the d- to answer my letters: sometimes there
may be one or two things I should be glad you
would answer, but I forget them, and you never
think of them. I shall never love answering letters
again, if you talk of answering. Answering, quotha;
pretty answerers truly. As for the pamphlet you
speak of, and call it scandalous, and that one Mr.
Presto is said to write it, hear my answer.
Fie,
child, you must not mind what every idle body tells
you. I believe you lie, and that the dogs were not
crying it when you said so; come, tell truth. I
am sorry you go to St. Mary's so soon, you will be
as poor as rats; that place will drain you with a ven-
geance: besides, I would have you think of being
in the country in summer. Indeed, Stella, pippins
produced plentifully; Parvisol could not send from
Laracor: there were about half a score. I would be
glad to know whether they were good for anything.
Mrs. Wells at Donnybrook with you; why, is she
not brought to bed? Well, well, well, Dingley, pray
be satisfied! you talk as if you were angry about the
bishop's not offering you conveniences for the jour-
ney; and so he should. What sort of Christmas?
why, I have had no Christmas at all; and has it
really been Christmas of late? I never once thought
of it. My service to Mrs. Stoyte and Catherine, and
let Catherine get the coffee ready against I come,
and not have so much care on her countenance; for
all will go well. Mr. Bernage, Mr. Bernage, Mr.
Fiddlenage, I have had three letters from him now
successively; he sends no directions, and how the
d- shall I write to him? I would have burnt his
last, if I had not seen Stella's hand at the bottom:
his request is all nonsense. How can I assist him
in buying? and if he be ordered to go to Spain, go
he must, or else sell
he must, or else sell; and I believe one can hardly
sell at such a juncture. If he had stayed, and new
regiments raised, I would have used my endeavour
to have had him removed, although I have no credit
that way, or very little but if the regiment goes, he
ought to go too; he has had great indulgence, and
opportunities of saving; and I have urged him to it
What can I do? Whenever it
a hundred times.
lies in my power to do him a good office, I will do
it. Pray draw up this into a handsome speech, and
represent it to him from me, and that I would write,
if I knew where to direct to him; and so I have
told you, and desired you would tell him, fifty times.
Yes, madam Stella, I think I can read your long
concluding word, but you cannot read mine after
bidding you good night. And yet, methinks, I
mend extremely in my writing; but when Stella's
eyes are well, I hope to write as bad as ever.
now I have answered your letter, and mine is an an-
swer; for I lay yours before me, and I look and
write, and write and look, and look and write again.
So good morrow, madams both, and I will go rise,
for I must rise; for I take pills at night, and so I
must rise early, I do not know why.
So
25. Morning.—I did not tell you how I passed
my time yesterday, nor bid you good night, and
there was good reason. I went in the morning to
secretary St. John about some business; he had got
a great Whig with him, a creature of the duke of
Marlborough, who is a go-between to make peace
between the duke and the ministry;a so he came
out of his closet, and after a few words desired I
would dine with him at three, but Mr. Lewis stayed
till six before he came; and there we sat talking,
and the time slipped so, that at last, when I was
a It was said that the duke would have taken office under
queen Anne's new ministry.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
171
positive to go, it was past two o'clock; so I came
home and went straight to bed. He would never
let me look at his watch, and I could not imagine it
above twelve when we went away.
So I bid you
good night for last night, and now I bid you good
morrow, and I am still in bed, though it be near ten,
but I must rise.
26, 27, 28, 29, 30. I have been so lazy and neg-
ligent these last four days, that I could not write to
MD. My head is not in order, and yet it is not ab-
solutely ill, but giddyish, and makes me listless. I
walk every day, and take drops of Dr. Cockburn, and
I have just done a box of pills, and to-day lady Kerry
sent me some of her bitter drink, which I design to
take twice a-day, and hope I shall grow better. I
wish I were with MD; I long for spring and good
long for spring and good
weather, and then I will come over. My riding in
Ireland keeps me well. I am very temperate, and
eat of the easiest meats, as I am directed, and hope
the malignity will go off; but one fit shakes me a
long time. I dined to-day with lord Mountjoy, yes-
terday at Mr. Stone's in the city, on Sunday at Van-
homrigh's, Saturday with Ford, and Friday I think
at Vanhomrigh's, and that is all the journal I can
send MD; for I was so lazy while I was well, that I
could not write. I thought to have sent this to-
night, but it is ten, and I will go to-bed, and write
on the other side to Parvisol to-morrow, and send
it on Thursday; and so good night, my dears, and
love Presto, and be healthy, and Presto will be so
too, &c.
Cut off these notes handsomely, do you hear,
sirrahs? and give Mrs. Brent hers, and keep yours
till you see Parvisol, and then make up the letter to
him, and send it him by the first opportunity; and so
God Almighty bless you both, here and ever, and
poor Presto.
What, I warrant you thought at first that these last
lines were another letter.
Dingley, Pray pay Stella six fishes, and place them
to the account of your humble servant,
Presto.
Stella, Pray pay Dingley six fishes, and place them
to the account of your humble servant,
Presto.
There's bills of exchange for you.
LETTER THE FIFTEENTH.
London, Jan. 31, 1710-11.
I AM to send you my 14th to-morrow, but my head
having some little disorder, confounds all my jour-
nals.
I was early this morning with Mr. Secretary
St. John, about some business, so I could not scribble
my morning lines to MD. They are here intending
to tax all little printed penny papers a halfpenny
every half-sheet, which will utterly ruin Grub-street,
and I am endeavouring to prevent it. Besides, I
was forwarding an impeachment against a certain
great person: that was two of my businesses with the
secretary-were they not worthy ones? It was Ford's
birthday, and I refused the secretary, and dined with
Ford.
We are here in as smart a frost for the time
as I have seen; delicate walking weather, and the
Canal and Rosamond's Pond full of the rabble slid-
ing, and with skates, if you know what those are.
Patrick's bird's water freezes in the gallipot, and my
hands in bed.
February 1. I was this morning with poor lady
Kerry, who is much worse in her head than I. She
sends me bottles of her bitter, and we are so fond of
one another, because our ailments are the same; do
not you know that, madam Stell? have not I seen
you conning ailments with Joe's wife [Mrs. Beau-
mont], and some others, sirrah? I walked into the
city to dine, because of the walk; for we must take
care of Presto's health, you know, because of poor
little MD. But I walked plaguy carefully, for fear of
sliding against my will; and I am very busy.
2. This morning Mr. Ford came to me to walk
into the city, where he had business, and then to buy
books at Bateman's; and I laid out one pound five
shillings for a Strabo and Aristophanes, and I have
now got books enough to make me another shelf,
and I will have more, or it shall cost me a fall; and
so as we came back we drank a flask of right French
wine at Ben Tooke's chamber; and when I got
home Mrs. Vanhomrigh sent me word her eldest
daughter was taken suddenly very ill, and desired I
would come and see her. I went, and found it was
a silly trick of Mrs. Armstrong, lady Lucy's sister,
who, with Moll Stanhope, was visiting there: how-
ever, I rattled off the daughter.
3. To-day I went and dined at lady Lucy's, where
you know I have not been this long time: they are
plaguy whigs, especially the sister Armstrong, the
most insupportable of all women pretending to wit,
without any taste. She was running down the last
Examiner, the prettiest I had read, with a character
of the present ministry. I left them at five, and
came home. But I forgot to tell you, that this
morning my cousin Dryden Leach, the printer, came
to me with a heavy complaint, that Harrison, the
new Tatler, had turned him off, and taken the last
Tatler's printers again. He vowed revenge. I an-
swered gravely, and so he left me, and I have ordered
Patrick to deny me to him from henceforth; and at
night comes a letter from Harrison, telling me the
same thing, and excused his doing it without my
notice, because he would bear all the blame; and
in his Tatler of this day he tells you the story, how
he has taken his old officers; and there is a most
humble letter from Morphew and Lilly, to beg his
pardon, &c.
pardon, &c. And lastly, this morning Ford sent me
two letters from the coffeehouse, (where I hardly
ever go), one from the archbishop of Dublin, and
the other from
Who do you think the other
was from?
I will tell you, because you are
friends; why then it was, faith it was from my own
dear little MD, No. 10. O, but will not answer it
now, no, noooooh, I will keep it between the two
sheets; here it is, just under: O, I lifted up the
sheets and saw it there: lie still, you shall not be
answered yet, little letter; for I must go to bed, and
take care of my head.
4. I avoid going to church yet, for fear of my
head, though it has been much better these last five
or six days, since I have taken lady Kerry's bitter.
Our frost holds like a dragon. I went to Mr. Addi-
son's, and dined with him at his lodgings; I had not
seen him these three weeks; we are grown common
acquaintance: yet what have not I done for his friend
Steele? Mr. Harley reproached me the last time I saw
him, that to please me, he would be reconciled to
Steele, and had promised and appointed to see him,
and that Steele never came. Harrison, whom Mr.
Addison recommended to me, I have introduced to
the secretary of state, who has promised me to take
care of him; and I have represented Addison him-
self so to the ministry, that they think and talk in
his favour, though they hated him before.-Well; he
is now in my debt, and there is an end; and I never
had the least obligation to him, and there is another
end. This evening I had a message from Mr. Harley,
desiring to know whether I was alive, and that I
would dine with him to-morrow. They dine so late,
that since my head has been wrong I have avoided
being with them. Patrick has been out of favour
172
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
these ten days; I talk dry and cross to him, and
have called him friend three or four times. But,
sirrahs, get you gone.
5. Morning. I am going this morning to see
Prior, who dines with me at Mr. Harley's; so I
cannot stay fiddling and talking with dear little brats
in a morning, and it is still terribly cold. I wish my
cold hand was in the warmest place about you,
young women, I would give ten guineas upon that
account with all my heart, faith; oh, it starves my
thigh; so I will rise, and bid you good morrow.
Come, stand away, let me rise: Patrick take away
the candle. Is there a good fire?-So-up adazy.
At night.—Mr. Harley did not sit down till six, and
I staid till eleven; henceforth, I will choose to visit
him in the evening, and dine with him no more if
I can help it. It breaks all my measures, and hurts
my health; my head is disorderly, but not ill, and
I hope it will mend.
6. Here has been such a hurry with the queen's
birthday, so much fine clothes, and the court so
crowded, that I did not go there. All the frost is
gone. It thawed on Sunday, and so continues, yet
ice is still on the canal, (I did not mean that of
Laracor, but St. James's Park,) and boys sliding on
it. Mr. Ford pressed me to dine with him in his
chamber. Did not I tell you Patrick has got a bird,
a linnet, to carry over to Dingley? It was very tame
at first, and it is now the wildest I ever saw. He
keeps it in a closet, where it makes a terrible litter;
but I say nothing: I am as tame as a clout. When
must we answer our MD's letter? one of these odd-
come-shortlies. This is a week old, you see, and
no farther yet. Mr. Harley desired I would dine
with him again to-day; but I refused him, for I fell
out with him yesterday, and will not see him again
till he makes me amends; and so I go to bed.
7. I was this morning early with Mr. Lewis of
the secretary's office, and saw a letter Mr. Harley
had sent to him desiring to be reconciled; but I was
deaf to all entreaties, and have desired Lewis to go
to him, and let him know I expect farther satisfac-
tion. If we let these great ministers pretend too much,
there will be no governing them. He promises to
make me easy, if I will but come and see him; but
I will not, and he shall do it by message, or I will
cast him off. I will tell you the cause of our quarrel
when I see you, and refer it to yourselves. In that he
did something, which he intended for a favour, and
I have taken it quite otherwise, disliking both the
thing and the manner, and it has heartily vexed me,
and all I have said is truth, though it looks like jest :
and I absolutely refuse to submit to his intended
favour, and expect farther satisfaction. Mr. Ford
and I dine with Mr. Lewis. We have a monstrous
deal of snow, and it cost me two shillings to-day in
chair and coach, and walked till I was dirty besides.
I know not what it is now to read or write after I
am in bed. The last thing I do up is to write some-
thing to our MD, and then get into bed, and put
out my candle, and so go sleep as fast as ever I
can.
But in the mornings I do write sometimes in
bed, as you know.
8. Morning.-"I have desired Apronia to be
always careful, especially about the legs." Pray, do
you see any such great wit in that sentence? I must
freely own that I do not. But party carries everything
now-a-days, and what a splutter have I heard about
the wit of that saying, repeated with admiration
about a hundred times in half an hour. Pray read
it over again this moment, and consider it. I think
the word is advised, and not desired. I should not
This alludes to an offer of fifty pounds from Harley, which
he indignantly rejected.
have remembered it if I had not heard it so often.
Why-ay-You must know I dreamed it just now,
and waked with it in my mouth. Are you bit, or
are you not, sirrahsa I met Mr. Harley in the
court of requests, and he asked me how long I had
learnt the trick of writing to myself. He had seen
your letter through the glass case, at the coffeehouse,
and would swear it was my hand; and Mr. Ford,
who took and sent it me, was of the same mind.
I remember others have formerly said so too. I
think I was little MD's writing-master. But come,
what is here to do, writing to young women in a
morning? I have other fish to fry; so good morrow,
my ladies all, good morrow. Perhaps I will answer
your letter to-night, perhaps I will not; that is, as
saucy little Presto takes the humour.
At night.-
I walked in the Park to-day, in spite of the weather,
as I do always, when it does not actually rain. Do
you know what it has gone and done? We had a thaw
for three days, then a monstrous dirt and snow, and
now it freezes, like a potlid upon our snow. I dined
with lady Betty Germain, the first time since I came
for England; and there did I sit, like a booby, till
eight, looking over her and another lady at picquet,
when I had other business enough to do. It was
the coldest day I felt this year.
9. Morning.-After I had been a-bed an hour
last night, I was forced to rise and call to the land-
lady and maid to have the fire removed in a chimney
below stairs, which made my bedchamber smoke,
though I had no fire in it. I have been twice served
so. I never lay so miserable an hour in my life. Is
it not plaguy vexatious? It has snowed all night,
and rains this morning. Come, where is MD's
letter? Come, Mrs. Letter, make your appearance.
Here am I, says she, answer me to my face. O,
faith, I am sorry you had my twelfth so soon; I
doubt you will stay longer for the rest. I am so
afraid you have got my fourteenth while I am writing
|
this, and I would always have one letter from Presto
reading, one travelling, and one writing. As for the
box, I now believe it lost. It is directed for Mr.
Curry, at his house in Capel-street, &c. I had a
letter yesterday from Dr. Raymond in Chester, who
says, he sent his man everywhere, and cannot find
it; and God knows whether Mr. Smyth will have
better success. Sterne spoke to him, and I writ to
him with the bottle of palsy water; that bottle, I
hope, will not miscarry: I long to hear you have it.
O, faith, you have too good an opinion of Presto's
care. I am negligent enough of everything but MD,
and I should not have trusted Sterne. But it shall
not go so: I will have one more tug for it. As to
what you say of Goodman Peasley and Isaac, I an-
swer as I did before. Fie, child! you must not give
yourself the way to believe any such thing; and
afterward, only for curiosity, you may tell me how
those things are approved, and how you like them;
and whether they instruct you in the present course
of affairs, and whether they are printed in your
town, or only sent from hence.
|
Sir Andrew Foun-
taine is recovered; so take your sorrow again, but
do not keep it; fling it to the dogs. And does little
MD walk, indeed? I am glad of it at heart. Yes,
we have done with the plague here: it was very
saucy in you to pretend to have it before your bet-
ters. Your intelligence that the story is false about
the officers forced to sell is admirable. You may
see them all three every day, no more in the army
than you. Twelve shillings for mending the strong
box; that is, for putting a farthing's worth of iron
on a hinge, and gilding it; give him six shillings,
and I will pay it, and never employ him again. No
a The bite is here explained.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
173
I
—indeed, I put off preaching as much as I can.
am upon another foot: nobody doubts here whether
I can preach, and you are fools. The account you
give of that weekly paper [the Examiner] agrees
with us here. Mr. Prior was like to be insulted in
the street for being supposed the author of it, but
one of the last papers cleared him. Nobody knows
Nobody knows
who it is, but the few in the secret. I suppose the
ministry and the printer. Poor Stella's eyes, God
bless them, and send them better. Pray spare them,
and write not above two lines a-day in broad day-
light. How does Stella look, madam Dingley ?
Pretty well; a handsome young woman still. Will
she pass in a crowd? Will she make a figure in a
country church? Stay a little, fair ladies. I this
minute sent Patrick to Sterne: he brings back word
that your box is very safe with one Mr. Earl's sister,
in Chester; and that colonel Edgworth's sister goes
for Ireland on Monday next, and will receive the
box at Chester, and deliver it to you safe; so there
is some hopes now. Well, let us go on to your
letter. The warrant is passed for the first-fruits.
The queen does not send a letter, but a patent will
be drawn here, and that will take up time.
Mr.
Harley, of late, has said nothing of presenting me
to the queen: I was overseen when I mentioned it
to you. He has such a weight of affairs on him
that he cannot mind all; but he talked of it three
or four times to me, long before I dropped it to
you. What is not Mrs. Walls' business over yet?
I had hopes she was up, and well, and the child
dead before this time. You did right, at last, to
send me your accounts; but I did not stay for them,
I thank you. I hope you have your bill sent in my
last, and there will be eight pounds interest soon
due from Hawkshaw; pray look at his bond. I hope
you are good managers, and that, when I say so,
Stella will not think I intend she should grudge
herself wine. But going to those expensive lodgings
requires some fund. I wish you had stayed till I
came over, for some reasons. That Frenchwoman
[MD's landlady] will be grumbling again in a little
time; and, if you are invited anywhere to the coun-
try, it will vex you to pay in absence; and the
country may be necessary for poor Stella's health;
but do as you like, and do not blame Presto. 0,
but you are telling your reasons. Well, I have read
them; do as you please. Yes, Raymond says he
must stay longer than he thought, because he can-
not settle his affairs. Mis in the country at some
friend's, comes to town in spring, and then goes to
settle in Herefordshire. Her husband is a surly ill-
natured brute, and cares not she should see anybody.
O Lord, see how I blundered, and left two lines
short; it was that ugly score in the paper that made
me mistake.-I believe you lie about the story of
the fire, only to make it more odd. Bernage must
go to Spain, and I will see to recommend him to the
duke of Argyle, his general, when I see the duke
next; but the officers tell me it would be dishonour-
able in the last degree for him to sell now, and he
would never be preferred in the army; so that, un-
less he designs to leave it for good and all, he must
go. Tell him so, and that I would write if I knew
where to direct to him; which I have said fourscore
times already. I had rather anything almost than
that you should strain yourselves to send a letter
when it is inconvenient; we have settled that matter
already. I will write when I can, and so shall MD;
and, upon occasions extraordinary, I will write,
though it be a line; and when we have not letters
soon, we agree that all things are well; and so that
The queen's objections to Swift, as the author of the TALE
OF A TUB, were found invincible.
is settled for ever, and so hold your tongue. Well,
you shall have your pins; but, for the candle-ends,
I cannot promise, because I burn them to the
stumps; besides, I remember what Stella told
Dingley about them many years ago, and she may
think the same thing of me. And Dingley shall
have her hinged spectacles. Poor dear Stella, how
durst you write those two lines by candle-light,
bang your bones? Faith, this letter shall go to-
morrow, I think, and that will be in ten days from
the last, young women; that is too soon, of all con-
science; but answering yours has filled it up so
quick, and I do not design to use you to three pages
in folio, no nooooh. All this is one morning's work
in bed and so good morrow, little sirrahs, that is
for the rhyme. You want politics: faith, I cannot
think of any, but may be at night I may tell you a
passage. Come, sit off the bed, and let me rise,
will you? At night. I dined to-day with my
neighbour Vanhomrigh; it was such dismal wea-
I have had some
ther, I could not stir farther.
threatenings with my head, but no fits; I still drink
Dr. Radcliffe's bitter, and will continue it.
?
10. I was this morning to see the secretary of
state, and have engaged him to give a memorial
from me to the duke of Argyle, in behalf of Bernage.
The duke is a man that distinguishes people of
merit, and I will speak to him myself; but the se-
cretary backing it will be very effectual, and I will
take care to have it done to purpose. Pray tell
Bernage so, and that I think nothing can be luckier
for him, and that I would have him go by all means.
I will order it that the duke shall send for him when
they are in Spain; or, if he fails, that he shall re-
ceive him kindly when he goes to wait on him.
Can I do more?
Can I do more? Is not this a great deal? I now
send away this letter that you may not stay. I dined
with Ford upon his opera-day, and am now come
home, and am going to study; do not you pretend
to guess, sirrahs, impudent saucy dear boxes. To-
ward the end of a letter I could not say saucy boxes
without putting dear between. En't that right now?
Farewell. This should be longer, but that I send it
to-night.
O silly, silly loggerhead!
I sent a letter this post to one Mr. Staunton, and
I direct it to Mr. Acton's, in St. Michael's lane.
He formerly lodged there, but he has not told me
where to direct. Pray send to that Acton, whether
the letter is come there, and whether he has sent it
to Staunton.
If Bernage designs to sell his commission and stay
at home, pray let him tell me so, that my recom-
mendation to the duke of Argyle may not be in vain.
LETTER THE SIXTEENTH.
London, Feb. 10, 1710-11.
I HAVE just dispatched my 15th to the post: I tell
you how things will be, after I have got a letter from
MD. I am in a furious haste to finish mine, for
fear of having two of MD's to answer in one of
Presto's, which would be such a disgrace, never saw
the like; but before you write to me I write at my
leisure, like a gentleman, a little every day, just to
let you know how matters go, and so, and so; and
I hope before this comes to you, you will have got
your box and chocolate, and Presto will take more
care another time.
11. Morning. I must rise and go see my lord
keeper, which will cost me two shillings in coach-
hire. Do not call them two thirteens." At night.-
• A shilling passes for thirteen pence in Ireland.
174
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
a
It has rained all day, and there was no walking. I
read prayers to sir Andrew Fountaine in the after-
noon, and I dined with three Irishmen at one Mr.
Cope's lodgings; the other two were one Morris,
an archdeacon, and Mr. Ford. When I came home
this evening, I expected that little jackanapes Har-
rison would have come to get help about his Tatler
for Tuesday: I have fixed two evenings in the week
which I allow him to come. The toad never came,
and I expecting him fell a reading, and left off other
business. Come, what are you doing? how do you
pass your time this ugly weather? Gaming and
drinking, I suppose: fine diversions for young ladies,
truly. I wish you had some of our Seville oranges,
and we some of your wine. We have the finest
oranges for two-pence a piece, and the basest wine
for six shillings a bottle. They tell me wine grows
cheap with you. I am resolyed to have half a hogs-
head when I get to Ireland, if it be good and cheap,
as it used to be; and I will treat MD at my table in
an evening, oh hoa, and laugh at great ministers of
state.
be
12. The days are grown fine and long,
thanked. O faith, you forget all our little sayings, and
I am angry. I dined to-day with Mr. Secretary St.
John: I went to the Court of Requests at noon, and
Bent Mr. Harley into the house to call the secretary,
to let him know I would not dine with him if he
dined late. By good luck the duke of Argyle was
at the lobby of the house too, and I kept him in
talk till the secretary came out, then told them I
was glad to meet them together, and that I had a
request to the duke, which the secretary must second,
and his grace must grant. The duke said, he was
sure it was something insignificant, and wished it
was ten times greater. At the secretary's house I
writ a memorial, and gave it to the secretary to give
the duke, and shall see that he does it. It is, that
his grace will please to take Mr. Bernage into his
protection; and if he finds Bernage answers my
Colonel
character, to give him all encouragement.
Masham and colonel Hill (Mrs. Masham's brother)
tell me my request is reasonable, and they will
second it heartily to the duke too: so I reckon Ber-
nage is on a very good foot when he goes to Spain.
Pray tell him this, though perhaps I will write to
him before he goes; yet where shall I direct? for I
suppose he has left Conolly's.
13. I have left off lady Kerry's bitter, and got
another box of pills. I have no fits of giddiness,
but only some little disorders toward it; and I walk
as much as I can. Lady Kerry is just as I am, only
a great deal worse: I dined to-day at lord Shel-
burn's, where she is, and we con ailments, which
I have taken
makes us very fond of each other.
Mr. Harley into favour again, and called to see him,
but he was not within: I will use to visit him after
dinner, for he dines too late for my head: then I
went to visit poor Congreve, who is just getting out
of a severe fit of the gout, and I sat with him till
near nine o'clock. He gave me a Tatler he had
written out, as blind as he is, for little Harrison.
is about a scoundrel that was grown rich, and went
and bought a coat of arms at the Herald's, and a set
of ancestors at Fleet-ditch: it is well enough, and
shall be printed in two or three days, and if you
It
read those kind of things, this will divert you.
is now between ten and eleven, and I am going
to bed.
It
14. This was Mrs. Vanhomrigh's daughter's birth-
day, and Mr. Ford and I were invited to dinner to
keep it, and we spent the evening there drinking
a Robert Cope, esq., a gentleman of learning, and corre-
spondent of Swift's.
1
punch. That was our way of beginning Lent; and
in the morning, lord Shelburn, lady Kerry, Mrs.
Pratt, and I, went to Hyde Park, instead of going to
church; for till my head is a little settled, I think it
better not to go; it would be so silly and trouble-
some to go out sick. Dr. Duke died suddenly two
or three nights ago: he was one of the wits when
we were children, but turned parson, and left it,
and never writ further than a prologue or recom-
mendatory copy of verses. He had a fine living
given him by the bishop of Winchester about three
months ago he got his living suddenly, and he got
his dying so too.
15. I walked purely to-day about the Park, the
rain being just over, of which we have had a
great deal, mixed with little short frosts. I went to
the Court of Requests, thinking if Mr. Harley dined
early to go with him. But meeting Leigh and
Sterne, they invited me to dine with them, and away
we went. When we got into his room, one H-, a
worthless Irish fellow, was there ready to dine with
us; so I stepped out and whispered them, “that I
would not dine with that fellow." They made ex-
cuses, and begged me to stay, but away I went to
Mr. Harley's, and he did not dine at home, and at
last I dined at sir John Germain's, and found lady
Betty but just recovered of a miscarriage.
writing an inscription for lord Berkeley's tomb:
you know the young rake his son, the new earl, is
married to the duke of Richmond's daughter, at the
duke's country house, and are now coming to town.
She will be fluxed in two months, and they will be
parted in a year. You ladies are brave, bold, ven-
turesome folks; and the chit is but seventeen, and
is ill-natured, covetous, vicious, and proud in ex-
tremes.
I am
And so get you gone to Stoyte to-morrow.
16. Faith this letter goes on but slow: it is a
week old, and the first side not written. I went to-
day into the city for a walk, but the person I de-
signed to dine with was not at home: so I came
back and called at Congreve's, and dined with him
and Estcourt, and laughed till six, then went to
Mr. Harley's, who was not gone to dinner; there I
stayed till nine, and we made up our quarrel, and he
has invited me to dinner to-morrow, which is the
day of the week (Saturday) that lord keeper and
secretary St. John dine with him privately; and at
last they have consented to let me among them on
that day. Atterbury and Prior went to bury poor
Dr. Duke. Congreve's nasty white wine has given
me the heartburn.
17. I took some good walks in the Park to-day,
and then went to Mr. Harley. Lord Rivers was got
there before me, and I chid him for presuming to
come on a day when only lord keeper, the secretary,
and I were to be there; but he regarded me not;
so we all dined together, and sat down at four; and
the secretary has invited me to dine with him to-
morrow. I told them I had no hopes they could
ever keep in, but that I saw they loved one another
so well, as indeed they seem to do. They call me
nothing but Jonathan; and I said, I believed they
would leave me Jonathan as they found me, and
that I never knew a ministry do anything for those
whom they make companions of their pleasures;
and I believe you will find it so; but I care not. I
am upon a project of getting five hundred pounds,
without being obliged to anybody; but that is a
secret, till I see my dearest MD; and so hold your
tonguc, and do not talk, sirrahs, for I am now
about it.
18. My head has no fits, but a little disordered
• Mr. Richard Estcourt, a player and dramatic writer, cole-
brated in The SPECTATOR, and other works of the time,
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
175
girl: the poor archdeacon too, see how simply he
looked when they told him! what did it cost Stella
to be gossip?
to be gossip? I will rise; so, do you hear? let me
see you at night, and do not stay late out, and catch
cold, sirrahs. At night.-
At night.-It grew good weather,
and I got a good walk, and dined with Ford upon
his opera-day: but now all his wine is gone, I shall
dine with him no more. I hope to send this letter
before I hear from MD: methinks there is-some-
thing great in doing so, only I cannot express where
it lies; and faith this shall go by Saturday, as sure
as you are a rogue. Mrs. Edgeworth was to set
out but last Monday, so you will not have your box
so soon perhaps as this letter; but Sterne told me
since that it is safer at Chester, and that she will take
care of it. I would give a guinea you had it.
before dinner; yet I walk stoutly, and take pills, | it, but is now pretty well again. I am sorry it is a
and hope to mend. Secretary St. John would needs
have me dine with him to-day, and there I found
three persons I never saw; two I had no acquaint-
ance with, and one I did not care for: so I left
them early, and came home, it being no day to walk,
but scurvy rain and wind. The secretary tells me
he has put a cheat on me; for lord Peterborow sent
him twelve dozen flasks of Burgundy, on condition
that I should have my share; but he never was
quiet till they were all gone; so I reckon he owes
me thirty-six pounds. Lord Peterborow is now got
to Vienna, and I must write to him to-morrow. I
begin now to be toward looking for a letter from
some certain ladies of Presto's acquaintance, that
lived at St. Mary's, and are called, in a certain lan-
guage, our little MD. No, stay, I do not expect
one these six days, that will be just three weeks ;
a'nt I a reasonable creature? We are plagued here
with an October Club; that is, a set of above a hun-
dred parliament-men of the country, who drink Oc-
tober beer at home, and meet every evening at
a tavern near the parliament, to consult affairs and
drive things on to extremes against the Whigs, to
call the old ministry to account, and get off five or
six heads. The ministry seem not to regard them;
yet one of them in confidence told me, that there
must be something thought on to settle things better.
I will tell you one great state secret; the queen,
sensible how much she was governed by the late
ministry, runs a little into the other extreme, and is
jealous in that point even of those who got her out
of the other's hands. The ministry is for gentler
measures, and the other Tories for more violent.
Lord Rivers, talking to me the other day, cursed the
paper called the Examiner, for speaking civilly of
the duke of Marlborough: this I happened to
talk of to the secretary, who blamed the warmth of
that lord, and some others, and swore that if their
advice were followed, they would be blown up in
twenty-four hours. And I have reason to think
that they will endeavour to prevail on the queen to
put her affairs more into the hands of a ministry
than she does at present; and there are, I believe,
two men thought on, one of them you have often
met the name of in my letter. But so much for
politics.
19. This proved a terrible rainy day, which pre-
vented my walk into the city, and I was only able
to run and dine with my neighbour Vanhomrigh,
where sir Andrew Fountaine dined too, who has
just began to sally out, and has shipped his mother
and sister, who were his nurses, back to the country.
This evening was fair, and I walked a little in the
Park till Prior made me go with him to the Smyrna
Coffeehouse, where I sat a while, and saw four or
five Irish persons, who are very handsome, genteel
fellows, but I know not their names. I came away
at seven, and got home. Two days ago I writ to
Bernage, and told him what I had done, and directed
the letter to Mr. Curry's to be left with Dingley.
Brigadiers Hill and Masham, brother and husband
to Mrs. Masham, the queen's favourite, colonel
Disney, and I, have recommended Bernage to the
duke of Argyle; and secretary St. John has given
the duke my memorial; and, besides, Hill tells me
that Bernage's colonel, Fielding, designs to make
him his captain-lieutenant; but I believe I said
this to you before, and in this letter, but I will not
look.
20. Morning.-It snows terribly again, and it is
mistaken, for I now want a little good weather: I
bid you good morrow, and, if it clear up, get you
gone to poor Mrs. Walls, who has had a hard time of
21. Morning.-Faith I hope it will be fair for me
to walk into the city, for I take all occasions of
walking. I should be plaguy busy at Laracor if I
|
were there now, cutting down willows, planting
others, scouring my canal, and every kind of thing.
If Raymond goes over this summer, you must sub-
mit, and make them a visit, that we may have another
eel and trout fishing; and that Stella may ride by
and see Presto in his morning-gown in the garden,
and so go up with Joe to the Hill of Bree, and
round by Scurlock's Town. O Lord, how I remem-
ber names! faith it gives me short sighs: therefore
no more of that if you love me. Good morrow, I
will go rise like a gentleman, my pills say I must.
At night.-Lady Kerry sent to desire me to engage
some lords about an affair she has in their house. I
called to see her, but found she had already engaged
every lord I knew, and that there was no great diffi-
culty in the matter, and it rained like a dog; so I
took coach, for want of better exercise, and dined
privately with a hang-dog in the city, and walked
back in the evening. The days are now long enough
to walk in the Park after dinner; and so I do when-
ever it is fair. This walking is a strange remedy;
Mr. Prior walks to make himself fat,ª and I to bring
myself down; he has generally a cough, which he
only calls a cold; we often walk round the Park
together. So I will go sleep.
|
I
22. It snowed all this morning prodigiously, and
was some inches thick in three or four hours.
dined with Mr. Lewis of the secretary's office at his
lodgings: the chairmen that carried me squeezed a
great fellow against a wall, who wisely turned his
back, and broke one of the side glasses in a thousand
piece. I fell a scolding, pretended I was like to be
cut in pieces, and made them set down the chair in
the Park, while they picked out the bits of glasses:
and when I paid them, I quarrelled still, so they
dared not grumble, and I came off for my fare: but
I was plaguy afraid they would have said, "God
bless your honour, will not you give us something
for our glass?" Lewis and I were forming a project
how I might get three or four hundred pounds,
which I suppose may come to nothing. I hope
Smyth has brought you your palsy-drops; how does
Stella do? I begin more and more to desire to
know. The three weeks since I had your last is
over within two days, and I will allow three for
accidents.
23. The snow is gone every bit, except the re-
mainder of some great balls made by the boys. Mr.
Sterne was with me this morning about an affair he
has before the treasury. That drab Mrs. Edgeworth
is not yet set out, but will infallibly next Monday,
and this is the third infallible Monday, and pox take
a Prior, as Swift elsewhere mentions, was a slight thin
figure.
176
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
her! So you will have this letter first; and this
shall go to-morrow; and if I have one from MD in
that time, I will not answer it till my next; only I
will say, Madam, I received your letter, and so and so.
I dined to-day with my Mrs. Butler, who grows
very disagreeable.
21. Morning. This letter certainly goes this
evening, sure as you are alive, young women, and
then you will be so ashamed that I have none from
you; and if I was to reckon like you, I would say, I
were six letters before you, for this is No. 16, and I
have had your No. 10. But I reckon you have re-
ceived but fourteen and have sent eleven. I think
to go to-day a minister of state hunting in the Court
of Requests; for I have something to say to Mr.
Harley. And it is fine cold sunshiny weather. I
wish dear MD would walk this morning in your
Stephen's Green: it is as good as our Park, but not
so large. Faith this summer we will take a coach
for sixpence to the Green Well, the two walks, and
thence all the way to Stoyte's. My hearty service
to Goody Stoyte and Catherine, and I hope Mrs.
Walls had a good time. How inconsistent I am!
I cannot imagine I was ever in love with her. Well,
I am going; what have you to say? I do not care
how I write now. I do not design to write on this
side; these few lines are but so much more than
your due; so I will write large or small as I please.
O faith, my hands are starving in bed; I believe it
is a hard frost. I must rise, and bid you good bye,
for I will seal this letter immediately, and carry it in
my pocket, and put it into the post-office with my
own fair hands. Farewell.
This letter is just a fortnight's journal to-day.
Yes, and so it is, I am sure, says you, with your two
eggs a penny.
Lele, lele, lelc-There, there, there.
O Lord, I am saying there, there, to myself in
all our little keys and now you talk of keys, that
dog Patrick broke the key-general of the chest of
drawers with six locks, and I have been so plagued
to get a new one, beside my good two shillings.
LETTER THE SEVENTEENTH.
London, Feb. 24, 1710-11.
Now, young women, I gave in my 16th this evening.
I dined with Ford, it was his opera day as usual; it
is very convenient to me to do so, for coming home
early after a walk in the Park, which now the days
will allow. I called on the secretary at his office,
and he had forgot to give the memorial about Ber-
nage to the duke of Argyle; but two days ago I
met the duke, who desired I would give it him my-
self, which should have more power with him than
all the ministry together, as he protested solemnly,
repeated it two or three times, and bid me count
upon it.
So that I verily believe Bernage will be
in a very good way to establish himself. I think I
can do no more for him at present, and there is an
end of that; and so get you gone to bed, for it is late.
25. The three weeks are out yesterday since I had
your last, and so now I will be expecting every day
a pretty dear letter from my own MD, and hope to
hear that Stella has been much better in her head
and eyes; my head continues as it was; no fits, but
a little disorder every day, which I can easily bear,
if it will not grow worse. I dined to-day with Mr.
Secretary St. John, on condition I might choose my
company, which were lord Rivers, lord Carteret, sir
Thomas Mansel, and Mr. Lewis. I invited Masham,
Hill, sir John Stanley, and George Granville, but
they were engaged; and I did it in revenge of his
having such bad company when I dined with him
before; so we laughed, &c. And I ventured to go
to church to-day, which I have not done this month
before. Can you send me such a good account of
Stella's health, pray now? Yes, I hope, and better
too. We dined (says you) at the dean's, and play-
ed at cards till twelve, and there came in Mr.
French, and Dr. Travors, and Dr. Whittingham,
and Mr. (I forgot his name, that I always tell Mrs.
Walls of) the banker's son-a pox on him! And we
were so merry; I vow they are pure good company.
But I lost a crown; for you must know I had always
hands tempting me to go out, but never took in any-
thing, and often two black aces without a manilio.
Was not that hard, Presto? hold your tongue, &c.
26. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary about
some business, and he tells me that colonel Fielding
is now going to make Bernage his captain-lieutenant,
You
that is, a captain by commission, and the perqui-
sites of the company, but not captain's pay, only
the first step to it. I suppose he will like it, and the
recommendation to the duke of Argyle goes on.
And so trouble me no more about your Bernage;
the jackanapes understands what fair solicitors he
has got, I warrant you. Sir Andrew Fountaine and
I dined by invitation with Mrs. Vanhomrigh.
say they are of no consequence; why, they keep as
good female company as I do male: I see all the
drabs of quality at this end of the town with them;
I saw two lady Bettys there this afternoon. The
beauty of one, the good breeding and nature of the
other, and the wit of either, would have made a fine
woman. Rare walking in the Park now; why do
not you walk in the Green of St. Stephen; the walks
there are finer gravelled than the Mall. What
beasts the Irish women are, never to walk!
27. Dartineuf and I, and little Harrison the new
Tatler, and Jervas the painter, dined to-day with
James-I know not his other name, but it is one of
Dartineuf's dining places, who is a true epicure.
James is clerk of the kitchen to the queen, and has
a little snug house at St. James's, and we had the
queen's wine, and such very fine victuals, that I
could not eat it. Three weeks and three days since
my last letter from MD, rare doings! why truly we
were so busy with poor Mrs. Walls, that, indeed,
Presto, we could not write; we were afraid the
poor woman would have died, and it pitied us to see
the archdeacon, how concerned he was. The dean
again, and we go and sit with her in the evenings.
never came to see her but once; but now she is up
The child died the next day after it was born, and I
believe, between friends, she is not very sorry for it.
Indeed, Presto, you are plaguy silly to-night, and
have not guessed one word right, for she and the
child are both well, and it is a fine girl, likely to
live; and the dean was godfather, and Mrs. Cathe-
rine and I were godmothers; I was going to say
Stoyte, but I think I have heard they do not put
maids and married women together, though I know
not why I think so, nor I do not care; what care I:
but I must prate, &c.
28. I walked to-day into the city for my health,
and there dined, which I always do when the wea-
ther is fair and business permits, that I may be under
a necessity of taking a good walk, which is the best
thing I can do at present for my health. Some
bookseller has raked up everything I writ, and pub-
lished it the other day in one volume; but I know
nothing of it; it was without my knowledge or con-
sent it makes a four shilling book, and is called
"Miscellanies in Prose and Verse.a Tooke pretends
London, printed for John Morphew, near Stationers' Hall,
1711. Octavo.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
177
he knows nothing of it, but I doubt he is at the
bottom. One must have patience with these things;
the best of it is, I shall be plagued no more.
How-
ever, I will bring a couple of them over with me for
MD; perhaps you may desire to see them. I hear
they sell mightily.
:
March 1. Morning.-I have been calling to Pa-
trick to look in his almanac for the day of the
month I did not know but it might be leap-year.
The almanac says it is the third after leap-year,
and I always thought till now that every third year
was leap-year. I am glad they come so seldom;
but I am sure it was otherwise when I was a young
man; I see times are mightily changed since then.
Write to me, sirrahs, be sure do, by the time this side
is done, and I will keep the other side for the an-
swer: so I will go write to the bishop of Clogher :
good morrow, sirrahs. -Night.—I dined to-day
at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, being a rainy day, and lady
Betty Butler, knowing it, sent to let me know she
expected my company in the evening, where the
Vans (so we call them) were to be. The duchess
and they do not go over this summer with the duke;
so I got to bed.
2. This rainy weather undoes me in coaches and
chairs. I was traipsing to-day with your Mr.
Sterne, to go along with them to Moor, and recom-
mend his business to the treasury. Sterne tells me
his dependence is wholly on me; but I have abso-
lutely refused to recommend it to Mr. Harley, be-
cause I troubled him lately so much with other folks'
affairs; and besides, to tell the truth, Mr. Harley
told me he did not like Sterne's business: however,
I will serve him, because I suppose MD would have
me. But in saying his dependence lies wholly on
me he lies, and is a fool. I dined with lord Aber-
corn, whose son Peasley will be married at Easter
to ten thousand pounds.
He
Pa-
3. I forgot to tell you that yesterday morning I
was at Mr. Harley's levee: he swore I came in
spite, to see him among a parcel of fools.
My busi-
ness was to desire I might let the duke of Ormond
know how the affair stood of the first-fruits.
promised to let him know it, and engaged me to
dine with him to-day. Every Saturday lord-keeper,
secretary St. John, and I dine with him, and some-
times lord Rivers, and they let in none else.
trick brought me some letters into the Park ; among
which was one from Walls, and the other, yes faith,
the other was from our little MD, No. 11. I read
the rest in the Park, and MD's in a chair as I went
from St. James's to Mr. Harley, and glad enough I
was, faith, to read it, and see all right. O, but I
will not answer it these three or four days, at least,
or may be sooner. Am not I silly? Faith your let-
ters would make a dog silly, if I had a dog to be
silly; but it must be a little dog. I stayed with Mr.
Harley till past nine, where we had much discourse
together after the rest were gone; and I gave him
very truly my opinion where he desired it.
complained he was not very well, and has engaged
me to dine with him again on Monday. So I came
home afoot, like a fine gentleman, to tell you all this.
4. I dined to-day with Mr. secretary St. John;
and after dinner he had a note from Mr. Harley
that he was much out of order: pray God preserve
his health, everything depends upon it. The par-
liament at present cannot go a step without him,
nor the queen neither. I long to be in Ireland; but
the ministry beg me to stay: however, when this
parliament hurry is over I will endeavour to steal
away; by which time I hope the first-fruit business
will be done. This kingdom is certainly ruined as
much as was ever any bankrupt merchant.
VOL. 1.
He
We
must have peace, let it be a bad or a good one,
though nobody dares talk of it. The nearer I look
upon things the worse I like them. I believe the
confederacy will soon break to pieces, and our fac-
tions at home increase. The ministry is upon a very
narrow bottom, and stand like an isthmus between
the Whigs on one side and violent Tories on the
other. They are able seamen, but the tempest is
too great, the ship too rotten, and the crew all
against them. Lord Somers has been twice in the
queen's closet, once very lately; and your duchess
of Somerset, who now has the key, is a most insi-
nuating woman, and I believe they will endeavour
to play the same game that has been played against
them. I have told them of all this, which they
know already, but they cannot help it. They have
cautioned the queen so much against being governed,
that she observes it too much. I could talk till to-
morrow upon these things, but they make me melan-
choly. I could not but observe that lately, after
much conversation with Mr. Harley, though he is
the most fearless man alive, and the least apt to de-
spond, he confessed to me that uttering his mind to
me gave him ease.
5. Mr. Harley continues out of order, yet his
affairs force him abroad: he is subject to a sore
throat, and was cupped last night: I sent and called
two or three times. I hear he is better this evening.
I dined to-day in the city with Dr. Freind at a third
body's house, where I was to pass for somebody else,
and there was a plaguy silly jest carried on that
made me sick of it. Our weather grows fine, and
I will walk like camomile. And pray walk you to
your dean's, or your Stoyte's, or your Manley's, or
your Walls'.
But your new lodgings make you so
proud you will walk less than ever. Come, let me
go to bed, sirrahs.
6. Mr. Harley's
going out yesterday has put him
a little backward. I called twice, and sent, for I am
in pain for him. Ford caught me, and made me
dine with him on his opera-day; so I brought Mr.
Lewis with me, and sat with him till six. I have not
seen Mr. Addison these three weeks: all our friend-
ship is over. I go to no coffeehouse. I presented
a parson of the bishop of Clogher's, one Richardson,
to the duke of Ormond to-day: he is translating
prayers and sermons into Irish, and has a project
about instructing the Irish in the protestant religion.
How
7. Morning.-Faith a little would make me,-I
could find in my heart, if it were not for one thing,
I have a good mind, if I had not something else to
do, I would answer your dear saucy letter. O Lord,
I am going awry with writing in bed. O faith, but
I must answer it, or I shall not have room, for it
must go on Saturday; and do not think I will fill
the third side-I am not come to that yet, young
women. Well, then, as for your Bernage, I have
said enough I writ to him last week.-Turn over
that leaf. Now, what says MD to the world to
come? I tell you, madam Stella, my head is a
great deal better, and I hope will keep so.
came yours to be fifteen days coming, and you had
my 15th in seven? answer me that, rogues. Your
being with goody Walls is excuse enough. I find I
was mistaken in the sex-it is a boy. Yes, I under-
stand your cipher, and Stella guesses right, as she
always does. He (Mr. Harley) gave me al bsadnuk
lboinlpl dfaonr ufainfbtoy dpionufnad," which I sent
him again by Mr. Lewis, to whom I writ a very
complaining letter that was showed him; and so the
matter ended. He told me he had a quarrel with
me; I said I had another with him, and we returned
to our friendship, and I should think he loves me as
A bank bill for fifty pounds.
"
N
178
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
d-
શ
|
8. O dear MD, my heart is almost broken. You
will hear the thing before this comes to you. I writ a
full account of it this night to the archbishop of Dub-
lin; and the dean may tell you the particulars from
the archbishop. I was in a sorry way to write, but
thought it might be proper to send a true account of
the fact; for you will hear a thousand lying circum-
stances. It is of Mr. Harley's being stabbed this
afternoon at three o'clock at a committee of the
council. I was playing lady Catherine Morris's
cards where I dined, when young Arundel came in
with the story. I ran away immediately to the se-
cretary, which was in my way: no one was at home.
I met Mrs. St. John in her chair; she had heard it
imperfectly. I took a chair to Mr. Harley, who was
asleep, and they hope in no danger; but he has
been out of order, and was so when he came abroad
to-day, and it may put him in a fever: I am in
mortal pain for him. That desperate French vil-
lain, marquis de Guiscard, stabbed Mr. Harley.a
Guiscard was taken up by Mr. secretary St. John's
warrant for high treason, and brought before the
lords to be examined; there he stabbed Mr. Harley.
I have told all the particulars already to the arch-
bishop. I have now at nine sent again, and they
tell me he is in a fair way. Pray, pardon my dis-
traction! I now think of all his kindness to me.
The poor creature now lies stabbed in his bed by a
desperate French popish villain. Good night, and
God preserve you both, and pity me; I want it.
9. Morning; seven, in bed. Patrick is just come
from Mr. Harley's. He slept well till four; the
well as a great minister can love a man in so short a
time. Did not. I do right? I am glad at heart you
have got your palsy-water; pray God Almighty it
may do my dearest Stella good. I suppose Mrs.
Edgworth set out last Monday se'nnight. Yes, I
do read the Examiners, and they are written very
finely, as you judge. I do not think they are too
severe on the duke; they only tax him of avarice,
and his avarice has ruined us. You may count upon
all things in them to be true. The author has said
it is not Prior; but perhaps it may be Atterbury.-
Now, madam Dingley, says she, it is fine weather,
says she; yes, says she, and we have got to our new
lodgings. I compute you ought to save eight pounds
by being in the others five months; and you have
no more done it than eight thousand. I am glad
you are rid of that squinting, blinking Frenchman.
I will give you a bill on Parvisol for five pound for
the half-year. And must I go on at four shillings
a-week, and neither eat nor drink for it?-Who the
?-
said Atterbury and your dean were alike ?————
I never saw your chancellor, nor his chaplain [Mr.
Trapp]. The latter has a good deal of learning,
and is a well-wisher to be an author: your chancellor
is an excellent man. As for Patrick's bird. he
bought him for his tameness, and is grown the wild-
est I ever saw. His wings have been quilled thrice,
and are now up again: he will be able to fly after
us to Ireland, if he be willing. Yes, Mrs. Stella,
Dingley writes more like Presto than you; for all
you superscribed the letter, as who should say, Why
should not I write like our Presto as well as Ding-
ley? You, with your awkward SS; cannot you-surgeon sat up with him: he is asleep again: he
write them thus, SS? No, but always SSS. Spite-
ful sluts, to affront Presto's writing; as that when
you shut your eyes you write most like Presto. I
know the time when I did not write to you half so
plain as I do now; but I take pity on you both. I
am very much concerned for Mrs. Walls' eyes.
Walls says nothing of it to me in his letter dated
after yours.
You say if she recovers she may lose
her sight. I hope she is in no danger of her life.
Yes, Ford is as sober as I please. I use him to walk
with me as an easy companion, always ready for
what I please, when I am weary of business and
ministers. I do not go to a coffeehouse twice a
month. I am very regular in going to sleep before
eleven. And so you say that Stella's a pretty girl;
and so she be, and methinks I see her now as hand-
some as the day is long. Do you know what? when
I am writing in our languagee I make up my mouth
just as if I was speaking it. I caught myself at it
just now. And I suppose Dingley is so fair and so
fresh as a lass in May, and has her health and no
spleen. In your account you sent, do you reckon
as usual from the first of November was twelve-
month? Poor Stella, will not Dingley leave her a
little daylight to write to Presto? Well, well, we
will have daylight shortly, spite of her teeth; and
zood must cly Lele, and Hele, and Hele aden. Must
loo mimitate Pdfr, pay? Iss, and so la shall. And
so leles fol ee rettle. Dood mollow. At night.
Mrs. Barton sent this morning to invite me to din-
ner; and there I dined, just in that genteel manner
that MD used when they would treat some better
sort of body than usual..
Even to his beloved Stella he had not acknowledged him-
self at this time to be the author of the Examiner.
Print cannot do justice to whims of this kind, as they de-
pend wholly upon the awkward shape of the letters.
c Many portions of these letters are spelled according to the
little language.
d" And you must cry There, and Here, and Here again.
Must you imitate Presto, pray? Yes, and so you shall. And
so there's for your letter. Good-morrow."
felt a pain in his wound when he waked: they ap-
prehend him in no danger. This account the sur-
geon left with the porter, to tell people that send.
Pray God preserve him. I am rising and going to
Mr. secretary St. John. They say Guiscard will
die with the wounds Mr. St. John and the rest gave
him. I shall tell you more at night. Night.—Mr.
Harley still continues on the mending hand; but he
rested ill last night, and felt pain. I was early with
the secretary this morning, and I dined with him,
and he told me several particularities of this acci-
dent, too long to relate now. Mr. Harley is still
mending this evening, but not at all out of danger;
and till then I can have no peace. Good night,
&c., and pity Presto.
10. Mr. Harley was restless last night; but he
has no fever, and the hopes of mending increase. I
had a letter from Mr. Walls, and one from Mr.
Bernage. I will answer them here, not having time
to write. Mr. Walls writes about three things;
First, about a hundred pounds from Dr. Raymond,
of which I hear nothing, and it is now too late.
Secondly, about Mr. Clements: I can do nothing
in it, because I am not to mention Mr. Pratt; and
I cannot recommend without knowing Mr. Pratt's
objections, whose relation Clements is, and who
brought him into the place. The third is about my
being godfather to the child: that is in my power,
and (since there is no remedy) will submit. I wish
you
could hinder it; but if it cannot be helped, pay
what you think proper, and get the provost to stand
for me, and let his christian name be Harley, in
honour to my friend, now lying stabbed and doubt-
ful of his life. As for Bernage, he writes me word
that his colonel has offered to make him captain-
lieutenant for a hundred pounds. He was such a
fool to offer him money without writing to me till
it was done, though I have had a dozen letters from
him; and then he desires I would say nothing of
a The count or abbé de Guiscard, a malcontent Frenchman
of quality
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
179
this, for fear his colonel should be angry. People
are mad. What can I do? I engaged colonel Dis-
ney, who was one of his solicitors to the secretary,
and then told him the story. He assured me that
Fielding (Bernage's colonel) said he might have got
that sum; but, on account of those great recommend-
ations he had, would give it him for nothing: and
I would have Bernage write him a letter of thanks,
as of a thing given him for nothing, upon recom-
mendations, &c. Disney tells me he will again
speak to Fielding, and clear up this matter; and
then I will write to Bernage. A pox on him for
promising money till I had it promised to me, and
then making it such a ticklish point that one cannot
expostulate with the colonel upon it: but let him
do as I say, and there is an end. I engaged the
secretary of state in it; and I am sure it was meant
a kindness to me, and that no money should be
given, and a hundred pounds is too much in a
Smithfield bargain, as a major-general told me,
whose opinion I asked. I am now hurried, and
can say no more. Farewell, &c. &c.
How shall I superscribe to your new lodgings,
pray, madams? Tell me but that, impudence and
saucy face.
An't you sauceboxes to write lele [i. e. there], like
Presto?
O poor Presto!
Mr. Harley is better to-night, that makes me so
pert, you saucy Gog and Magog.
LETTER THE EIGHTEENTH.
London, March 10, 1710-11.
PRETTY little MD must expect little from me till
Mr. Harley is out of danger. We hope he is so
now: but I am subject to fear for my friends. He
has a head full of the whole business of the nation,
was out of order when the villain stabbed him, and
had a cruel contusion by the second blow. But all
But all
goes well on yet. Mr. Ford and I dined with Mr.
Lewis, and we hope the best.
11. This morning Mr. Secretary and I met at
court, where we went to the queen, who is out of
order and aguish: I doubt the worst for this acci-
dent to Mr. Harley. We went together to his
house, and his wound looks well, and he is not
feverish at all, and I think it is foolish in me to be
so much in pain as I am. I had the penknife in
my hand, which is broken within a quarter of an
inch of the handle. I have a mind to write and
publish an account of all the particularities of this
fact: it will be very curious, and I would do it
when Mr. Harley is past danger.
12. We have been in terrible pain to-day about
Mr. Harley, who never slept last night, and has
been very feverish. But this evening I called there,
and young Mr. Harley (his only son) tells me he is
now much better, and was then asleep. They let
nobody see him, and that is perfectly right. The
parliament cannot go on till he is well, and are
forced to adjourn their money businesses, which none
but he can help them in. Pray God preserve him.
13. Mr. Harley is better to-day, slept well all
night, and we are a little out of our fears. I send
and call three or four times every day. I went into
the city for a walk, and dined there with a private
man; and coming home this evening broke my
shin in the Strand, over a tub of sand left just
in the way. I got home dirty enough, and went
straight to bed, where I have been cooking it with
goldbeaters' skin, and have been peevish enough
with Patrick, who was near an hour bringing a rag
Commonly called duke Disney.
from next door. It is my right shin, where never
any humour fell when the other used to swell; so I
apprehend it less: however, I shall not stir till it is
well, which I reckon will be in a week. I am very
careful in these sort of things, but I wish I had
Mrs. Johnson's water: she is out of town, and I
must make a shift with alum. I will dine with
Mrs. Vanhomrigh till I am well, who lives but five
doors off: and that I may venture.
Mr.
14. My journals are like to be very diverting,
now I cannot stir abroad, between accounts of Mr
Harley's mending, and of my broken shin. I just
walked to my neighbour Vanhomrigh at two, and
came away at six, when little Harrison the Tatler
came to me, and begged me to dictate a paper to
him, which I was forced in charity to do.
Harley still mends; and I hope in a day or two to
trouble you no more with him, nor with my shin.
Go to bed and sleep, sirrahs, that you may rise to-
morrow, and walk to Donnybrook, and lose your
money with Stoyte and the dean; do so, dear little
rogues, and drink Presto's health. O, pray, do not
you drink Presto's health sometimes with your
deans, and your Stoytes, and your Walls, and your
Manleys, and your everybodies, pray now? I drink
MD's to myself a hundred thousand times.
15. I was this morning at Mr. secretary St.
John's, for all my shin, and he has given me for
young Harrison the Tatler the prettiest employment
in Europe, secretary to lord Raby, who is to be
ambassador extraordinary at the Hague, where all
the great affairs will be concerted; so we shall lose
the Tatlers in a fortnight. I will send Harrison to-
morrow morning to thank the secretary. Poor
Biddy Floyd has got the small-pox. I called this
morning to see lady Betty Germain ; and when she
told me so I fairly took my leave. I have the luck
of it; a for about ten days ago I was to see lord
Carteret, and my lady was entertaining me with
telling of a young lady, a cousin, who was then ill
in the house of the small-pox, and is since dead; it
was near lady Betty's, and I fancy Biddy took the
fright by it. I dined with Mr. Secretary, and a phy-
sician came in just from Guiscard, who tells us he is
dying of his wounds, and can hardly live till to-
morrow. A poor wench that Guiscard kept sent
him a bottle of sack; but the keeper would not let
him touch it, for fear it was poison. He had two
quarts of old clotted blood come out of his side to-
day, and is delirious. I am sorry he is dying, for
they have found out a way to hang him. He cer-
tainly had an intention to murder the queen.
16. I have made but little progress in this letter
for so many days, thanks to Guiscard and Mr.
Harley; and it would be endless to tell you all the
particulars of that odious fact. I do not yet hear that
Guiscard is dead, but they say it is impossible he
should recover. I walked too much yesterday for a
man with a broken shin; to-day I rested, and went
no further than Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, where I dined;
and lady Betty Butler coming in about six, I was
forced in good manners to sit with her till nine;
then I came home, and Mr. Ford came in to visit
my shin, and sat with me till eleven; so I have
been very idle and naughty. It vexes me to the
pluck that I should lose walking this delicious day.
Have you seen the Spectator yet, a paper that comes
out every day? It is written by Mr. Steele, who
seems to have gathered new life, and have a new
fund of wit; it is in the same nature as his Tatlers,
and they have all of them had something pretty.
I believe Addison and he club. I never see them;
and I plainly told Mr. Harley and Mr. St. John ten
a Swift never had the small-pox.
N 2
180
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
days ago, before my lord-keeper and lord Rivers, I
had been foolish enough to spend my credit with
them in favour of Addison and Stecle; but that I
but that I
would engage and promise never to say one word
in their behalf, having been used so ill for what I
had already done. So, now I have got into the way
of prating again, there will be no quiet for me.
When Presto begins to prate,
Give him a rap upon the pate.
O Lord, how I blot; it is time to leave off, &c.
17. Guiscard died this morning at two, and the
coroner's inquest have found that he was killed by
bruises received from a messenger, so to clear the
cabinet councillors from whom he received his
wounds. I had a letter from Raymond, who cannot
hear of your box; but I hope you have it before this
comes to your hands. I dined to-day with Mr. Lewis
of the secretary's office. Mr. Harley has abundance
of extravasated blood comes from his breast out of
his wound, and will not be well so soon as we ex-
pected. I had something to say, but cannot call it
to mind. (What was it?)
18. I was to-day at court to look for the duke of
Argyle, and give him the memorial about Bernage.
The duke goes with the first fair wind: I could not
find him, but I have given the memorial to another
to give him; and, however, it shall be sent after
him. Bernage has made a blunder in offering money
to his colonel without my advice: however, he is
made captain-lieutenant, only he must recruit his
company, which will cost him forty pounds, and
that is cheaper than a hundred. I dined to-day
with Mr. secretary St. John, and stayed till seven,
but would not drink his champaign and burgundy,
for fear of the gout. My shin mends, but is not
well. I hope it will by the time I send this letter,
next Saturday.
19. I went to-day into the city, but in a coach,
tossed up my leg on the seat; and, as I came home, I
went to see poor Charles Bernard's books, which
are to be sold by auction, and I itch to lay out nine
or ten pounds for some fine editions of fine authors.
But it is too far, and I shall let it slip, as I usually
do all such opportunities. I dined in a coffeehouse
with Stratford upon chops, and some of his wine.
Where did MD dine? Why, poor MD dined at
home to-day, because of the archbishop, and they
could not go abroad, and had a breast of mutton
and a pint of wine. I hope Mrs. Walls mends;
and pray give me an account what sort of godfather
I made, and whether I behaved myself handsomely.
The duke of Argyle is gone; and whether he has
my memorial I know not, till I see Dr. Arburthnot,
to whom I gave it. That hard name belongs to a
Scotch doctor, an acquaintance of the duke's and
ine; Stella cannot pronounce it. O that we were
at Laracor this fine day! the willows begin to peep,
and the quicks to bud. My dream is out: I was a
dreaming last night that I cat ripe cherries.
now they begin to catch the pikes, and will shortly
the trouts (pox on these ministers), and I would
fain know whether the floods were ever so high as
to get over the holly bank or the river walk;
then all my pikes are gone; but I hope not.
do not you ask Parvisol these things, sirrahs? And
then my canal, and trouts, and whether the bottom
be fine and clear? But harkee, ought not Parvisol
to pay in my last year's rents and arrears out of his
hands? I am thinking, if either of you have heads
to take his accounts, it should be paid in to you;
otherwise to Mr. Walls. I will write an order on
the other side; and do as you will. Here is a world
of business; but I must go sleep, I am drowsy, and
so good night, &c.
And
if so,
Why
Why
❘
:
20. This sore shin ruins me in coach-hire; no less
than two shillings to-day going and coming from the
city, where I dined with one you never heard of,
and passed an insipid day. I writ this post to Ber-
nage, with the account I told you above.
I hope
he will like it; it is his own fault, or it would have
been better. I reckon your next letter will be full
of Mr. Harley's stabbing. He still mends, but
abundance of extravasated blood has come out of the
wound he keeps his bed, and sees nobody. The
speaker's eldest son is just dead of the small-pox,
and the house is adjourned a week, to give him time
to wipe off his tears. I think it very handsomely
done; but I believe one reason is, that they want
Mr. Harley so much. Biddy Floyd is like to do
well; and so go to your dean's, and roast his oranges,
and lose your money; do so, you saucy sluts. Stella,
you lost three shillings and fourpence the other night
at Stoyte's, yes, you did, and Presto stood in a
corner, and saw you all the while, and then stole
away. I dream very often I am in Ireland, and
that I have left my clothes and things behind me,
and have not taken leave of anybody, and that the
ministry expect me to-morrow, and such nonsense.
21. I would not for a guinea have a letter from
you till this goes; and go it shall on Saturday, faith.
I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, to save my shin,
and then went on some business to the secretary,
and he was not at home.
22. Yesterday was a short day's journal; but
what care I? what cares saucy Presto! Darteneuf [a
great punster] invited me to dinner to-day. Do
not you know Darteneuf? That is the man that
knows everything, and that everybody knows; and
that knows where a knot of rabble are going on a
holiday, and when they were there last; and then I
went to the coffeehouse. My shin mends, but is
not quite healed; I ought to keep it up, but I do
not; I e'en let it go as it comes. Pox take Parvisol
and his watch. If I do not receive the ten-pound
bill I am to get toward it, I will neither receive
watch nor chain; so let Parvisol know.
23. I this day appointed the duke of Ormond to
meet him at Ned Southwell's, about an affair of
printing Irish prayer-books, &c., but the duke never
came. There Southwell had letters that two packets
are taken; so if MD writ then, the letters are gone;
for they were packets coming here. Mr. Harley is
not yet well, but his extravasated blood continues,
and I doubt he will not be quite well in a good
while: I find you have heard of the fact by South-
well's letters from Ireland: what do you think of
it? I dined with sir John Perceval,a and saw his
lady sitting in the bed, in the forms of a lying-in
woman; and coming home my sore shin itched, and
I forgot what it was, and rubbed off the scab, and
blood came; but I am now got into bed, and have
put on alum curd, and it is almost well. Lord Rivers
told me yesterday a piece of bad news, as a secret,
that the pretender is going to be married to the
duke of Savoy's daughter. It is very bad, if it be
true. We were walking in the Mall with some
Scotch lords, and he could not tell it until they
were gone, and he bade me tell it to none but the
secretary of state and MD. This goes to-morrow,
and I have no room but to bid my dearest little MD
good night.
24. I will now seal up this letter, and send it;
for I reckon to have none from you (it is morning
now) between this and night; and I will put it in
the post with my own hands. I am going out in
great haste; so farewell, &c
n Created baron Perceval, April 21, 1715; viscount Perceval,
Feb. 25, 1722; and earl of Egmont, Nov. 6, 1733.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
181
LETTER THE NINETEENTH.
London, March 24, 1710-11.
Ir was a little cross in Presto not to send to-day to
the coffeehouse to see whether there was a letter
from MD before I sent away mine; but faith I did
it on purpose, because I would scorn to answer two
letters of yours successively. This way of journal is
the worst in the world for writing of news, unless
one does it the last day; and so I will observe
henceforward, if there be any politics or stuff
worth sending. My shin mends in spite of the
scratching last night. I dined to-day at Ned South-
well's with the bishop of Ossory and a parcel of
Irish gentlemen. Have you yet seen any of the
Spectators? Just three weeks to-day since I had
your last, No. 11. I am afraid I have lost one by
the packet that was taken; that will vex me, con-
sidering the pains MD takes to write, especially
poor Stella, and her weak eyes. God bless them
and the owner, and send them well, and little me
together, I hope ere long. This illness of Mr. Harley
puts everything backward, and he is still down, and
like to be so, by that extravasated blood which comes
from his breast to the wound: it was by the second
blow Guiscard gave him after the penknife was
broken. I am shocked at that villany whenever I
think of it. Biddy Floyd is past danger, but will
lose all her beauty: she had them mighty thick, es-
pecially about her nose.
25. Morning.-I wish you a merry new year: this
is the first day of the year, you know, with us, and
'tis Lady-day. I must rise and go to my lord-keeper:
it is not shaving-day to-day, so I shall be early. I
am to dine with Mr. secretary St. Jolin. Good
morrow, my mistresses both, good morrow. Stella
will be peeping out of her room at Mrs. de Caudres'
down upon the folks as they come from church;
and there comes Mrs. Proby, and that's my lady
Southwell, and there's lady Betty Rochfort. I long
to hear how you are settled in your new lodgings.
I wish I were rid of my old ones, and that Mrs.
Brent could contrive to put up my books in boxes,
and lodge them in some safe place, and you keep
my papers of importance. But I must rise, I tell
you. At night.-So I visited and dined as I told
you, and what of that? We have let Guiscard be
buried at last, after showing him pickled in a trough
this fortnight for twopence apiece; and the fellow
that showed would point to his body, and, "See,
gentlemen, this is the wound that was given him by
his grace the duke of Ormond;" and "this is the
wound," &c.; and then the show was over, and an-
other set of rabble came in. "Tis hard that our laws
would not suffer us to hang his body in chains, be-
cause he was not tried; and in the eye of our law
every man is innocent till then. Mr. Harley is still
very weak, and never out of bed.
26. This was a most delicious day; and my shin
being past danger I walked like lightning above two
hours in the park. We have generally one fair day,
and then a great deal of rain for three or four days
together. All things are at a stop in parliament for
want of Mr. Harley; they cannot stir an inch with-
out him in their most material affairs; and we fear
by the caprice of Radcliffe, who will admit none but
his own surgeon, he has not been well looked after.
I dined at an alehouse with Mr. Lewis, but had his
wine. Don't you begin to see the flowers and blos-
soms of the field? How busy should I now be at
Laracor? No news of your box? I hope you have
it, and are this minute drinking the chocolate, and
that the smell of the Brazil tobacco has not affected
Mrs. de Caudres, their landlady, lived opposite to St.
Mary's church.
it. I would be glad to know whether you like it,
because I would send you more by people that are
now every day thinking of going to Ireland; there-
fore pray
tell me, and tell me soon, and I will have
the strong box.
27. A rainy wretched scurvy day from morning
till night and my neighbour Vanhomrigh invited
me to dine with them: and this evening I passed at
Mr. Prior's with Dr. Freind; and 'tis now past twelve,
so I must go sleep.
28. Morning.-O faith, you're an impudent saucy
couple of sluttekins for presuming to write so soon,
said I to myself this morning; who knows but there
may be a letter from MD at the coffeehouse? Well,
you must know, and so, I just now sent Patrick, and
he brought me three letters, but not one from MD, no
indeed, for I read all the superscriptions; and not
one from MD. One I opened, it was from the
archbishop; t'other I opened, it was from Staunton;
the third I took, and looked at the hand.
hand is this?" says I : yes, says I, "whose hand is
"Whose
this?" then there was wax between the folds: then
I began to suspect; then I peeped; faith, it was
Walls' hand after all: then I opened it in a rage,
and then it was little MD's hand, dear, little, pretty,
charming MD's sweet hand again. O Lord, en't
here a clutter and a stir, and a bustle, never saw the
like. Faith I believe yours lay some days at the
post-office, and that it came before my 18th went,
but that I did not expect it, and I hardly ever go
there. Well, and so you think I'll answer this letter
now? no, faith, and so I won't. I'll make you wait,
young women,; but I'll inquire immediately about
poor Dingley's exchequer trangum [tally]. What,
is that Vedel again a soldier? Was he broke? I'll
put it in Ben Tooke's hand. I hope Vedel could
not sell it. At night.-Vedel, Vedel, poh, pox, I
thing it is Vedeau, ay, Vedeau, now I have it: let
me see, do you name him in yours? Yes, Mr. John
Vedeau is the brother; but where does this brother
live I'll inquire. This was a fast-day for the public;
so I dined late with sir Matthew Dudley, whom I
have not been with a great while. He is one of
those that must lose his employment whenever the
great shake comes; and I can't contribute to keep
him in, though I have dropped words in his favour
to the ministry; but he has been too violent a Whig
and friend to the lord-treasurera to stay in.
odd to think how long they let those people keep
their places; but the reason is, they have not enough
to satisfy all expecters, and so they keep them all in
hopes that they may be good boys in the mean time;
and thus the old ones hold in still. The comp-
troller [sir John Holland] told me that there are
eight people expect his staff. I walked after dinner
to-day round the park.—What, do I write politics
to little young women? Hold your tongue and go to
your dean's.
'Tis
29. Morning.-If this be a fine day, I will walk
into the city and see Charles Bernard's library.
What care I for your letter, your saucy No. 12? I
will say nothing to it yet: faith, I believe this will
be full before its time, and then go it must. I will
always write once a fortnight; and if it goes sooner
by filling sooner, why then there is so much clear
gain. Morrow, morrow, rogues and lasses both, I
can't lie scribbling here in bed for your play; I
must rise, and so morrow again. At night.-Your
friend Montgomery and his sister are here, as I am
told by Patrick. I have seen him often, but take no
notice of him he is grown very ugly and pimpled.
They tell me he is a gamester, and wins money.
How could I help it, pray? Patrick snuffed the
The earl of Godolphin, late lord-treasurer.
**
182
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
candle too short, and the grease ran down upon the
paper. It en't my fault, 'tis Patrick's fault; pray
now don't blame Presto. I walked to-day into the
city, and dined at a private house, and went to see
the auction of poor Charles Bernard's books; they
were in the middle of the physic books; so I bought
none; and they are so dear. I believe I shall buy
none, and there's an end; and go to Stoyte's, and
I'll go sleep.
30. Morning. This is Good-Friday, you must
know, and I must rise and go to Mr. Secretary
about some business, and Mrs. Vanhomrigh desires
me to breakfast with her, because she is to intercede
for Patrick, who is so often drunk and quarrelsome in
the house, that I was resolved to send him over; but
he knows all the places where I send, and is so used
to my ways, that it would be inconvenient to me;
but when I come to Ireland I will discharge him.
Sir Thomas Mansel, one of the lords of the treasury,
setting me down at my door to-day, saw Patrick,
and swore he was a Teaguelander. I am so used to
his face, I never observed it, but thought him a
pretty fellow.
Sir Andrew Fountaine and I supped
this fast-day with Mrs. Vanhomrigh. We were
afraid Mr. Harley's wound would turn to a fistula;
but we think the danger is now past. He rises
every day, and walks about his room, and we hope
he'll be out in a fortnight. Prior showed me a
handsome paper of verses he has writ on Mr.
Harley's accident: they are not out; I will send
them to you if he will give me a copy.
31. Morning.—What shall we do to make April
fools this year, no wit happens on Sunday? Patrick
brings word that Mr. Harley still mends, and is up
every day. I design to see him in a few days: brings
me word too that he has found out Vedeau's brother's
shop: I shall call there in a day or two. It seems
the wife lodges next door to the brother. I doubt
the scoundrel was broke [bankrupt], and got a com-
mission, or perhaps is a volunteer gentleman, and
expects to get one by his valour. Morrow, sirrahs,
let me rise. At night.-I dined to-day with sir
Thomas Mansel. We were walking in the Park,
and Mr. Lewis came to us. Mansel asked "where
we dined?" We said "together." He said, "we
should dine with him, only his wife desired him to
bring nobody, because she had only a leg of mutton."
I said, "I would dine with him to choose;" but he
would send a servant to order a plate or two: yet
this man has ten thousand pounds a year in land,
and is a lord of the treasury, and is not covetous
neither, but runs out merely by slattering and negli-
gence. The worst dinner I ever saw at the dean's
was better: but so it is with abundance of people
here. I called at night at Mr. Harley's, who begins
to walk in his room with a stick, but is mighty weak.
See how much I have lost with that ugly grease.
'Tis your fault; pray, and I'll go to bed.
April 1.-The duke of Buckingham's house fell
down last night with an earthquake, and is half
swallowed up ;-Won't you go and see it ?-An
April fool, an April fool, O ho, young women.
Well, don't be angry, I'll make you an April fool no
more till the next time: we had no sport here,
because it is Sunday and Easter Sunday. I dined
with the secretary, who seemed terribly down and
melancholy, which Mr. Prior and Lewis observed as
well as I perhaps something is gone wrong; perhaps
there is nothing in it. God bless my own dearest
MD, and all is well.
:
2. We have such windy weather, 'tis troublesome
walking, yet all the rabble have got into our Park
these holidays. I am plagued with one Richardson,
an Irish parson, and his project of printing Irish
Bibles, &c., to make you christians in that country.
I befriend him what I can, on account of the arch-
bishop and bishop of Clogher. But what business
have I to meddle? &c. Don't you remember that,
sirrah Stella? what was that about, when you thought
I was meddling with something that was not my
business? O faith you are an impudent slut, I re-
member your doings, I'll never forget you as long as
I live. Lewis and I dined together at his lodgings.
But where's the answer to this letter of MD's? O
faith, Presto, you must think of that. Time enough,
says saucy Presto.
3. I was this morning to see Mrs. Barton; I love
her better than any one here, and see her seldomer.
Why, really now, so it often happens in the world,
that where one loves a body best-pshah, pshah, you
are so silly with your moral observations.-Well, but
she told me a very good story. An old gentlewoman
died here two months ago, and left in her will to
have eight men and eight maids bearers, who should
have two guineas a-piece, ten guineas to the parson
for a sermon, and two guineas to the clerk. But
bearers, parson, and clerk must be all true virgins;
and not to be admitted till they took their oaths of
virginity: so the poor woman lies still unburied,
and so must do till the general resurrection. I called
at Mr. Secretary, to see what the d- ailed him on
Sunday; I made him a very proper speech, told him
"I observed he was much out of temper: that I did
not expect he would tell me the cause, but would
be glad to see he was in better;" and one thing I
warned him of, "never to appear cold to me, for I
would not be treated like a schoolboy; that I had
felt too much of that in my life already (meaning sir
William Temple), that I expected every great minis-
ter, who honoured me with his acquaintance, if he
heard or saw anything to my disadvantage, would
let me know in plain words, and not put me in pain
to guess by the change or coldness of his counte-
nance or behaviour; for it was what I would hardly
bear from a crowned head, and I thought no subject's
favour was worth it; and that I designed to let my
lord-keeper and Mr. Harley know the same thing,
that they might use me accordingly." He took all
right; said “I had reason;" vowed "nothing ailed
him but sitting up whole nights at business, and
one night at drinking;" would have had me dined
with him and Mrs. Masham's brother, to make up
matters, but I would not. I don't know, but I would
not. But indeed I was engaged with my old friend
Rollinson; you never heard of him before.
4. I sometimes look a line or two back, and see
plaguy mistakes of the pen; how do you get over
them? you are puzzled sometimes. Why, I think
what I said to Mr. Secretary was right. Don't you
remember how I used to be in pain when sir William
Temple would look cold and out of humour for
three or four days, and I used to suspect a hundred
reasons? I have plucked up my spirit since then,
faith; he spoiled a fine gentleman. I dined with
my neighbour Vanhomrigh, and MD, poor MD, at
home on a loin of mutton and half a pint of wine,
and the mutton was raw; poor Stella could not eat,
poor dear rogue, and Dingley was so vexed: but
we'll dine at Stoyte's to-morrow.
Mr. Harley pro-
mised to see me in a day or two, so I called this
evening; but his son and others were abroad, and
he asleep, so I came away, and found out Mrs.
Vedeau. She drew out a letter from Dingley, and
said she would get a friend to receive the money. I
told her I would employ Mr. Tookeb in it hencefor-
↑ William Rollinson, esq., merchant, who retired from busi-
uess into Oxfordshire.
b The bookseller, who transacted Swift's pecuniary business
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
183
ward. Her husband bought a lieutenancy of foot, | nistry: I am a little piqued in honour to let people
and is gone to Portugal. He sold his share of the see I am not to be despised. The assurances they
shop to his brother, and put out the money to main-give me, without any scruple or provocation, are
tain her, all but what bought the commission. She
lodges within two doors of her brother. She told
me it made her very melancholy to change her
manner of life thus, but trade was dead, &c. She
says she will write to you soon. I design to engage
Ben Tooke, and then receive the parchment from her.
I gave Mr. Dopping a copy of Prior's verses on Mr.
Harley: he sent them yesterday to Ireland; so go look
for them, for I won't be at the trouble to transcribe
them here. They will be printed in a day or two.
Give my hearty service to Stoyte and Catherine; upon
my word I love them dearly, and desire you will tell
them so pray desire Goody Stoyte not to let Mrs.
Walls and Mrs. Johnson cheat her of her money at
ombre, but assure her from me that she is a bungler.
Dine with her to-day, and tell her so, and drink my
health, and good voyage and speedy return, and so
you're a rogue.
5. Morning. Now let us proceed to examine a
saucy letter from one madam MD. God Almighty
bless poor dear Stella, and send her a great many
birthdays, all happy, and healthy, and wealthy, and
with me ever together, and never asunder again,
unless by chance. When I find you are happy or
merry there, it makes me so here, and I can hardly
imagine you absent when I am reading your letter
or writing to you. No, faith, you are just here
upon this little paper, and therefore I see and talk
with you every evening constantly, and sometimes
in the morning, but not always in the morning, be-
cause that is not so modest to young ladies. What,
you would fain palm a letter upon me more than
you sent; and I like a fool must look over all yours,
to see whether this was really No. 12, or more. Pa-
trick has this moment brought me letters from the
bishop of Clogher and Parvisol; my heart was at my
mouth for fear of one from MD: what a disgrace
would it be to have two of yours to answer together?
but faith this shall go to-night, for fear, and then,
come when it will, I defy it. No, you are not
naughty at all; write when you are disposed. And
so the dean told you the story of Mr. Harley, from
the archbishop; I warrant it never spoiled your
supper, or broke off your game. Nor yet, have not
you the box; I wish Mrs. Edgworth had the
But you have it
have it now, I suppose and is the choco-
late good, or has the tobacco spoiled it? Leigh
stays till Sterne has done his business, no longer;
and when that will be, God knows: I befriend him
as much as I can, but Mr. Harley's accident stops
that as well as all things else. You
You guess, madam
Dingley, that I shall stay a round twelvemonth; as
hope saved, I would come over if I could this mi-
nute; but we will talk of that by and by. Your
affair of Vedeau I have told you of already; now to
the next, turn over the leaf. Mrs. Dobbins lies, I
have no more provision here or in Ireland than I
had. I am pleased that Stella the conjurer ap-
proves what I did with Mr. Harley; but your
generosity makes me mad; I know you repine
inwardly at Presto's absence; you think he has
broken his word of coming in three months, and that
this is always his trick and now Stella says she
does not see possibly how I can come away in haste,
and that MD is satisfied, &c. An't you a rogue to
overpower me thus? I did not expect to find such
friends as I have done. They may indeed deceive
me too. But there are important reasons [Pox on
this grease, this candle-tallow!] why they should
I have been used barbarously by the late mi-
a In relation to the bank-note for fifty pounds.
not.
such as are usually believed in the world; they may
come to nothing, but the first opportunity that
offers, and is neglected, I shall depend no more, but
come away. I could say a thousand things on this
head if I were with you. I am thinking why Stella
should not go to the Bath, if she be told it will do
her good; I will make Parvisol get up fifty pounds,
and pay it you; and you may be good housewives,
and live cheap there some months, and return in
autumn, or visit London, as you please: pray think
of it. I writ to Bernage, directed to Curry's; I
wish he had the letter. I will send the bohea tea,
if I can. The bishop of Kilmore? I don't keep
such company: an old dying fool, whom I was
never with in my life. So I am no godfather; all
the better. Pray, Stella, explain those two words
of yours to me, what you mean by villian and
dainger, and you, madam Dingley, what is chris-
tianing? Lay your letters this way, this way, and
the devil a bit of difference between this way and
t'other way.
way. No;
No; I'll show you, lay them this way,
this way, and not that way, that way.—— -You shall
have your aprons; and I'll put all your commissions
as they come, in a paper together, and don't think
I'll forget MD's orders, because they are friends;
I'll be as careful as if they were strangers. I know
not what to do about this Clements. Walls will
not let me say anything, as if Mr. Pratt was against
him; and now the bishop of Clogher has written to
me in his behalf. This thing does not rightly fall
in my way, and that people never consider: I al-
ways give my good offices where they are proper,
and that I am judge of; however, I will do what I
can. But if he has the name of a Whig, it will be
hard, considering my lord Anglesea and Hyde are
very much otherwise, and you know they have the
employment of deputy-treasurer. If the frolic should
take you of going to the Bath, I here send you a
note on Parvisol; if not, you may tear it, and there's
an end. Farewell.
If you have an imagination that the Bath will do
you good, I say again I would have you go; if not,
or it be inconvenient, burn this note. Or, if you
would go, and not take so much money, take thirty
pounds, and I will return you twenty from hence.
Do as you please, sirrahs. I suppose it will not be
too late for the first season; if it be, I would have
you resolve, however, to go the second season, if the
doctors say it will do you good, and you fancy so.
LETTER THE TWENTIETH.
London, April 5, 1711.
I PUT my 19th in the post-office just now myself, as
I came out of the city, where I dined. This rain
ruins me in coach-hire; I walked away sixpenny-
worth, and came within a shilling length, and then
took a coach, and got a lift back for nothing; and
am now busy.
6. Mr. Secretary desired I would see him this
morning, said he had several things to say to me,
and said not one: and the duke of Ormond sent to
desire I would meet him at Mr. Southwell's by ten
this morning too, which I did, thinking it was some
particular matter. All the Irish in town were there,
to consult upon preventing a bill for laying a duty
on Irish yarn; so we talked awhile, and then all
went to the lobby of the house of commons to so-
licit our friends, and the duke came among the rest;
and lord Anglesea solicited admirably, and I did
wonders. But after all, the matter was put off till
184
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
I
Monday, and then we are to be at it again. I dined
with lord Mountjoy, and looked over him at chess,
which put me in mind of Stella and Griffyth.
came home, and that dog Patrick was not within, so
I fretted, and fretted, and what good did that do
me? And so
Get you gone to your deans,
You couple of queans.
I can't find rhyme to Walls and Stoyte.-Yes, yes,—
You expect Mrs. Walls; To carry you to Stoyte,
Be dress'd when she calls, Or else honi svit.
Henley told me that the Tories were insupportable
people, because they are for bringing in French cla-
ret, and will not sup-port. Mr. Harley will hardly
get abroad this week or ten days yet. I reckon,
when I send away this letter, he will be just got
into the house of commons. My last letter went
in twelve days, and so perhaps may this. No, it
won't; for those letters that go under a fortnight |
are answerers to one of yours, otherwise you must
take the days as they happen, some dry, some wet,
some barren, some fruitful, some merry, some insi-
pid, some, &c. I will write you word exactly the
first day I see young gooseberries, and pray observe
how much later you are. We have not had five fine
days this five weeks, but rain or wind.-'Tis a late
spring they say here. Go to bed, you two dear
saucy brats, and don't keep me up all night.
7. Ford has been at Epsom, to avoid Good Friday
and Easter Sunday. He forced me to-day to dine
with him; and tells me there are letters from Ire-
land giving an account of a great indiscretion in the
archbishop of Dublin, who applied a story out of
Tacitus very reflectingly on Mr. Harley, and that
twenty people have written of it; I do not believe
it yet. I called this evening to see Mr. Secretary,
who had been very ill with the gravel and pain in
his back, by burgundy and champagne, added to
the sitting up all night at business; I found him
drinking tea, while the rest were at champagne,
and was very glad of it. I have chid him so se-
verely, that I hardly knew whether he would take
it well then I went and sat an hour with Mrs. St.
John, who is growing a great favourite of mine; she
goes to the Bath on Wednesday, for she is much
out of health, and has begged me to take care of the
secretary.
8. I dined to-day with Mr. secretary St. John;
he gave me a letter to read, which was from the
publisher of the newspaper called the Post-Boy [a
Tory paper and violent]; in it there was a long
copy of a letter from Dublin, giving an account of
what the Whigs said upon Mr. Harley's being
stabbed, and how much they abuse him and Mr.
secretary St. John; and at the end there was half a
dozen lines, telling the story of the archbishop of
Dublin, and abusing him horribly; this was to be
printed on Tuesday. I told the secretary "I would
not suffer that about the archbishop to be printed,”
and so I crossed it out; and afterward, to prevent
all danger, I made him give me the letter, and, upon
further thought, would let none of it be published
and I sent for the printer and told him so, and or-
dered him in the secretary's name "to print nothing
reflecting on anybody in Ireland till he had showed
it me." Thus I have prevented a terrible scandal
to the archbishop, by a piece of perfect good fortune.
I will let him know it by next post; and pray, if
you pick it out, let me know, and whether he is
thankful for it; but say nothing.
9. 1 was to-day at the house of commons again
about this yarn, at lord Anglesea's desire, but the
business is again put off till Monday. I dined with
sir John Stanley, by an assignation I had made with
:
Mr. St. John, and George Granville, the secretary
at war; but they let in other company, some ladies,
and so we were not as easy as I intended. My
head is pretty tolerable, but every day I feel some
little disorders; I have left off snuff since Sunday,
finding myself much worse after taking a good deal
at the secretary's. I would not let him drink one
drop of champagne or burgundy without water,
and in compliment I did so myself. He is much
better, but when he is well he is like Stella, and
will not be governed. So go to your Stoyte's, and
I'll go sleep.
10. I have been visiting lady Worsley and Mrs.
Barton to-day, and dined soberly with my friend
Lewis. The dauphin is dead of an apoplexy; I
wish he had lived till the finishing of this letter, that
it might be news to you. Duncomb, the rich alder-
man [and lord mayor of London], died to-day, and I
hear has left the duke of Argyle, who married his
niece, two hundred thousand pounds; I hope it is
true, for I love that duke mightily. I writ this even-
ing to the archbishop of Dublin about what I told
you; and then went to take leave of poor Mrs. St.
John, who gave me strict charge to take care of the
secretary in her absence; said she had none to trust
but me: and the poor creature's tears came fresh
into her eyes.
Before we took leave I was drawn
won.
in by the other ladies and sir John Stanley to raffle
for a fan, with a pox; it was four guineas, and we
put in seven shillings a piece, several raffled for ab-
sent people; but I lost, and so missed an oppor-
tunity of showing my gallantry to Mrs. St. John,
whom I designed to have presented it to if I had
Is Dilly [Rev. Dillon Ashe] gone to the Bath?
His face will whiz in the water; I suppose he will
write to us from thence, and will take London in
his way back.
"There goes a
The rabble will say,
drunken parson," and, which is worse, they will say
true. O,
O, but you must know, I carried Ford to dine
with Mr. St. John last Sunday, that he may brag,
when he goes back, of dining with a secretary of
state. The secretary and I went away early, and
left him drinking with the rest, and he told me
"that two or three of them were drunk." They
talk of great promotions to be made; that Mr. Harley
is to be lord-treasurer, and lord Poulet master of the
The
horse, &c., but they are only conjecture.
speaker is to make Mr. Harley a compliment the
first time he comes into the house, which I hope
will be in a week. He has had an ill surgeon by
the caprice of that puppy Dr. Radcliffe, which has
kept him back so long; and yesterday he got a cold,
but is better to-day. What! I think I am stark
mad to write so much in one day to little saucy MD;
here's a deal of stuff, indeed; can't you bid those
dear little rogues good night, and let them go
sleep, Mr. Presto? When your tongue runs there's
no ho with you, pray.
11. Again at the lobby, like a lobcock, of the
house of commons, about your Irish yarn, and
again put off till Friday; and I and Patrick went
into the city by water, where I dined, and then
went to the auction of Charles Bernard's books, but
the good ones were so monstrous dear I could not
reach them, so I laid out one pound seven shillings
but very indifferently, and came away, and will go
there no more. Henley would fain engage me to
go with Steele and Rowe, &c., to an invitation at
sir William Read's."
Surely you have heard of
him. He has been a mountebank, and is the
a Afterwards lord Lansdowne, celebrated by Pope as "Gran-
ville the polite."
An advertising quack for the cure of ophthalmia, wens,
harclips, wry necks, &c. &c.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
185
queen's oculist; he makes admirable punch, and
treats you in gold vessels.
in gold vessels. But I am engaged, and
won't go, neither indeed am I fond of the jaunt. So
good night, and go sleep.
12. I went about noon to the secretary, who is
very ill with a cold, and sometimes of the gravel,
with his champagne, &c. I scolded him like a dog,
and he promises faithfully more care for the future.
To-day my lord Anglesea, and sir Thomas Hanmer,
and Prior, and I, dined, by appointment, with lieu-
tenant-general Webb. My lord and I stayed till ten
o'clock, but we drank soberly, and I always with
water. There was with us one Mr. Campain, one
of the October club, if you know what that is; a
club of country members, who think the ministers.
are too backward in punishing and turning out the
Whigs. I found my lord and the rest thought I
had more credit with the ministry than I pretend to
have, and would have engaged me to put them upon
something that would satisfy their desires, and in-
deed I think they have some reason to complain;
however, I will not burn my fingers. I'll remember
Stella's chiding. What had you to do with what
did not belong to you? &c. However, you will give
me leave to tell the ministry my thoughts when they
ask them, and other people's thoughts sometimes
when they do not ask; so thinks Dingley.
13. I called this morning at Mrs. Vedeau's again,
who has employed a friend to get the money; it
will be done in a fortnight, and then she will deliver
me up the parchment. I went then to see Mr.
Harley, who I hope will be out in a few days; he
was in excellent good humour, only complained to
me of the neglect of Guiscard's cure, how glad he
would have been to have had him live. Mr. Secre-
tary came in to us, and we were very merry till lord
chamberlain (duke of Shrewsbury) came up; then
colonel Masham and I went off, after I had been
presented to the duke, and that we made two or
three silly compliments suitable to the occasion.
Then I attended at the house of commons about
your yarn, and 'tis again put off. Then Ford drew
me to dine at a tavern; it happened to be the day
and the house where the October club dine. After
we had dined, coming down, we called to inquire
whether our yarn business had been over that day,
and I sent into the room for sir George Beaumont.
But I had like to be drawn into a difficulty; for in
two minutes out comes Mr. Finch, lord Guernsey's
son, to let me know that my lord Compton, the
steward of this feast, desired, in the name of the
club, that I would do them the honour to dine with
them. I sent my excuses, adorned with about thirty
compliments, and got off as fast as I could. It would
have been a most improper thing for me to dine
there, considering my friendship for the ministry.
The club is about a hundred and fifty, and near
eighty of them were then going to dinner at two
long tables in a great ground room. At evening I
went to the auction of Bernard's books, and laid out
three pounds three shillings, but I'll go there no
more; and so I said once before, but now I'll keep
to it. I forgot to tell that when I dined at Webb's
with lord Anglesea, I spoke to him of Clements, as
one recommended for a very honest gentleman and
good officer, and hoped he would keep him: he said
he had no thought otherwise, and that he should
certainly hold his place while he continued to de-
serve it; and I could not find there had been any
intentions from his lordship against him. But I
tell
you, hunny, the impropriety of this. A great
man will do a favour for me, or for my friend,
but why should he do it for my friend's friend?
Recommendations should stop before they come to
that. Let any friend of mine recommend one of his
to me for a thing in my power, I will do it for his
sake; but to speak to another for my friend's friend,
is against all reason; and I desire you will under-
stand this, and discourage any such troubles given
me. I hope this may do some good to Clements, it
can do no hurt; and I find by Mrs. Pratt that her
husband is his friend; and the bishop of Clogher
says, Clements' danger is not from Pratt, but from
some other enemies, that think him a Whig.
14. I was so busy this morning that I did not go
out till late. I writ to-day to the duke of Argyle,
but said nothing of Bernage, who, I believe, will not
see him till Spain is conquered, and that is not at
all. I was to-day at lord Shelburne's, and spoke to
Mrs. Pratt again about Clements her husband
himself wants some good offices, and I have done
him very good ones lately, and told Mrs. Pratt I
expected her husband would stand by Clements in
return. Sir Andrew Fountaine and I dined with
neighbour Vanhomrigh: he is mighty ill of an asthma,
and apprehends himself in much danger: 'tis his own
fault, that will rake and drink when he is but just
crawled out of his grave. I will send this letter just
now, because I think my half-year is out for my
lodging; and, if you please, I would be glad it were
paid off, and some deal boxes made for my books,
and kept in some safe place. I would give some-
thing for their keeping, but I doubt that lodging
will not serve me when I come back: I would have
a larger place for books, and a stable, if possible.
So pray be so kind to pay the lodging, and all ac-
counts about it; and get Mrs. Brent to put up my
things. I would have no books put in that trunk
where my papers are. If you do not think of going
to the Bath, I here send you a bill on Parvisol for
twenty pounds Irish, out of which you will pay for
the lodging, and score the rest to me.
please, and love poor Presto, that loves MD better
than his life a thousand millions of times. Fare-
well, MD, &c. &c.
Do as you
LETTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.
London, April 14, 1711.
REMEMBER, sirrahs, that there are but nine days be-
tween the dates of my two former letters.
I sent
away my 20th this moment, and now am writing on
like a fish, as if nothing was done. But there was a
cause for my hasting away my last, for fear it should
not come time enough before a new quarter began.
I told you where I dined to-day, but forgot to tell
you what I believe, that Mr. Harley will be lord-
treasurer in a short time, and other great removes
and promotions made. This is my thought, &c.
15. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary, and
he is grown pretty well. I dined with him to-day,
and drank some of that wine which the great duke
of Tuscany used to send to sir William Temple: he
always sends some to the chief ministers. I liked
it mightily, but he does not; and he ordered his
butler to send me a chest of it to-morrow. Would
to God MD had it. The queen is well again, and
was at chapel to-day, &c.
16. I went with Ford into the city to-day, and
dined with Stratford, and drank tockay, and then
we went to the auction; but I did not lay out above
twelve shillings. My head is a little out of order
to-night, though no formal fit. My lord-keeper has
sent to invite me to dinner to-morrow, and you'll
dine better with the dean, and God bless you.
forgot to tell you that yesterday was sent me a nar-
rative printed, with all the circumstances of Mr.
Harley's stabbing, I had not time to do it myself,
I
:
}
Y
186
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
so I sent my hints to the author of the Atlantis
[Mrs. Manley], and she has cooked it into a six-
penny pamphlet, in her own style, only the first page
is left as I was beginning it. But I was afraid of
disobliging Mr. Harley or Mr. St. John in one critical
point about it, and so would not do it myself. It is
worth your reading, for the circumstances are all true.
My chest of Florence was sent me this morning, and
cost me seven and sixpence to two servants.
would give two guineas you had it, &c.
I
17. I was so out of order with my head this morn-
ing, that I was going to send my excuses to my lord-
keeper; but, however, I got up at eleven, and walked
there after two, and stayed till eight. There was
sir Thomas Mansel, Prior, George Granville, and
Mr. Cæsar, and we were very merry. My head is
still wrong, but I have had no formal fit, only I
totter a little. I have left off snuff altogether. I
have a noble roll of tobacco for grating, very good.
Shall I send it to MD, if she likes that sort? My
lord-keeper and our this day's company are to dine
on Saturday with George Granville, and to-morrow
I dine with lord Anglesca.
18. Did you ever see such a blundering goosecap
as Presto? I saw the number 21 atop, and so I went
on as if it were the day of the month, whereas this
is but Wednesday the 18th. How shall I do to blot
and alter them? I have made a shift to do it behind,
but it is a great botch. I dined with lord Anglesea
to-day, but did not go to the house of commons about
the yarn; my head was not well enough. I know
not what's the matter; it has never been thus before:
two days together giddy from morning till night, but
not with any violence or pain; and I totter a little,
but can make shift to walk. I doubt I must fall to my
pills again; I think of going into the country a little
way. I tell you what you must do henceforward :
you must enclose your letter in a fair half-sheet of
paper, and direct the outside to Erasmus Lewis,
esquire, at my lord Dartmouth's office at Whitehall;
for I never go to the coffeehouse, and they will
grudge to take in my letters. I forgot to tell you
that your mother was to see me this morning, and
brought me a flask of sweet water for a present, ad-
inirable for my head; but I shall not smell to it.
She is going to Sheen with lady Giffard: she would
fain send your papers over to you, or give them to
me. Say what you would have done, and it shall
be done; because I love Stella, and she is a good
daughter, they say, and so is Dingley.
19. This morning general Webb was to give me
a visit; he goes with a crutch and a stick, yet was
forced to make up two pair of stairs. I promised to
dine with him, but afterward sent my excuses, and
dined privately in my friend Lewis's lodgings at
Whitehall, with whom I had much business to talk
of relating to the public and myself. Little Harrison
the Tatler goes to-morrow to the secretaryship I
got him at the Hague, and Mr. St. John has made
him a present of fifty guineas to bear his charges.
An't I a good friend? Why are not you a young
fellow, that I might prefer you? I had a letter from
Bernage from Kinsale: he tells me his commission for
captain-lieutenant was ready for him at his arrival;
so there are two jackanapeses I have done with. My
head is something better this evening, though not well.
20. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary, whose
packets were just come in, and among them a letter
from lord Peterborow to me: he writes so well I
have no mind to answer him, and so kind that I
must answer him. The emperor's death must, I
think, cause great alterations in Europe, and, I be-
lieve, will hasten a peace. We reckon our king
Charles will be chosen emperor, and the duke of
and the duke of
|
Savoy set up for Spain; but I believe he will make
nothing of it. Dr. Freind and I dined in the city
at a printer's, but it cost me two shillings in coach-
hire, and a great deal more this week and month,
which has been almost all rain, with now and then
sunshine, and is the truest April that I have known
these many years. The lime-trees in the park are
all out in leaves, though not large leaves yet. Wisc
people are going into the country; but many think
the parliament can hardly be up these six weeks.
Mr. Harley was with the queen on Tuesday. I be-
lieve certainly he will be the lord-treasurer: I have
not seen him this week.
21. Morning,-Lord-keeper, and I, and Prior,
and sir Thomas Mansel, have appointed to dine this
day with George Granville. My head, I thank
God, is better; but to be giddyish three or four
days together mortified me. I take no snuff, and I
will be very regular in eating little, and the gentlest
meats. How does poor Stella just now, with her deans
and her Stoytes? Do they give you health for the
money you lose at ombre, sirrah? What say you to
that? Poor Dingley frets to see Stella lose that four
and elevenpence t'other night. Let us rise. Mor-
row, sirrahs.
I will rise in spite of your little teeth;
good morrow. At night.-0, faith, you are little
| dear sauccboxes. I was just going in the morning
to tell you that I began to want a letter from MD,
and in four minutes after Mr. Ford sends me one
that he had picked up at St. James's coffechouse;
for I go to no coffeehouse at all. And faith I was
glad at heart to see it, and to see Stella so brisk.
Lord, what pretending? Well, but I won't answer
it yet; I'll keep it for t'other side. Well, we dined
to-day according to appointment; lord-keeper went
away at near eight, I at eight, and I believe the rest
will be fairly fuddled; for young IIarcourt, lord-
keeper's son, began to prattle before I came away.
It will not do with Prior's lean carcase. I drink
little, miss my glass often, put water in my wine,
and go away before the rest, which I take to be a
good receipt for sobriety. Let us put it into rhyme,
and so make a proverb :
|
Drink little at a time;
Miss your glass when you can,
Put water with your wine. And go off the first man.
God be thanked, I am much better than I was,
though something of a totterer. I ate but little to-
day, and of the gentlest meat. I refused ham and
pigeons, pease-soup, stewed beef, cold salmon, be-
cause they were too strong. I take no snuff at all,
but some herb-snuff prescribed by Dr. Radcliffe.
Go to your deans, you couple of queans.
I believe I said that already. What care I? what
cares Presto ?
22. Morning.-I must rise and go to the secretary's.
Mr. Harley has been out of town this week to re-
fresh himself before he comes into parliament. (),
but I must rise, so there is no more to be said; and
so morrow, sirrahs both. Night.-I dined to-day
with the secretary, who has engaged me for every
Sunday; and I was an hour with him this morning
deep in politics, where I told him the objections of
the October Club, and he answered all except one,
That no inquiries are made into past mismanage-
ment. But, indeed, I believe they are not yet able
to make any; the late ministry were too cunning in
their rogueries, and fenced themselves with an act
of general pardon. I believe Mr. Harley must be
lord-treasurer, yet he makes only one difficulty which
is hard to answer; he must be made a lord, and his
estate is not large enough, and he is too gencrous to
make it larger; and if the ministry should change
soon by any accident, he will be left in the suds.
Another difficulty is, that if he be made a peer they
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
187
will want him prodigiously in the house of commons,
of which he is the great mover, and after him the
secretary, and hardly any else of weight. Two
shillings more to-day for coach and chair. I shall
be ruined.
23. So you expect an answer to your letter, do
you so? Yes, yes, you shall have an answer, you
shall, young women. I made a good pun on Satur-
day to my lord-keeper. After dinner we had coarse
Doiley napkins, fringed at each end, upon the table
to drink with my lord-keeper spread one of them
between him and Mr. Prior; I told him I was glad
to see there was such a fringeship (friendship) be-
tween Mr. Prior and his lordship. Prior swore "it
was the worst he had ever heard :" I said "I thought
so too;" but at the same time I thought it was most
like one of Stella's that ever I heard. I dined to
day with lord Mountjoy, and this evening saw the
Venetian ambassador coming from his first public
audience. His coach was the most monstrous, huge,
fine, rich, gilt thing that ever I saw. I loitered this
evening, and came home late.
24. I was this morning to visit the duchess of Or-
mond, who has long desired it, or threatened she
would not let me visit her daughters. I sat an hour
with her, and we were good company, when in came
the countess of Bellamont, with a pox. I went out,
and we did not know one another, yet hearing me
named, she asked, "What, is that Dr. Swift?" said
she: "he and I were very well acquainted ;" and fell
railing at me without mercy, as a lady told me that
was there; yet I never was but once in the company
of that drab of a countess. Sir Andrew Fountaine
and I dined with my neighbour Van. I design, in
two days, if possible, to go lodge at Chelsea for the
air, and put myself under a necessity of walking to
and from London every day. I writ this post to
the bishop of Clogher a long politic letter to entertain
him. I am to buy statues and harnese [Farnese] for
them, with a vengeance. I have packed and sealed up
MD's twelve letters against I go to Chelsea. I have
put the last commissions of MD in my account-book ;
but if there be any former ones, I have forgot them.
I have Dingley's pocket-book down, and Stella's
green silk apron, and the pound of tea; pray send
me word if you have any other, and down they shall
go. I will not answer your letter yet, saucy boxes.
You are with the dean just now, madam Stella,
losing your money. Why don't you name what
number you have received? you say you have re-
ceived my letters, but don't tell the number.
25. I was this day dining in the city with very
insignificant, low, and scurvy company. I had a
letter from the archbishop of Dublin, with a long
denial of the report raised on him, which yet has
been since assured to me by those who say they have
it from the first hand; but I cannot believe them.
I will show it to the secretary to-morrow.
not answer yours till I get to Chelsea.
I will
26. Chelsea.-I have sent two boxes of lumber to
my friend Dartencuf's house, and my chest of Flor-
ence and other things to Mrs. Vanhomrigh, where I
dined to-day. I was this morning with the secretary,
and showed him the archbishop's letter, and convinced
him of his grace's innocence, and I will do the same
to Mr. Harley. I got here in the stage-coach with
Patrick and my portmantua for sixpence, and pay
six shillings a week for one silly room with con-
founded coarse sheets. We have had such a horri-
ble deal of rain, that there is no walking to London,
and I must go as I came until it mends; and besides,
the whelp has taken my lodging as far from London
as this town could afford, at least half a mile farther
aThat is, among the ministry.
than he need; but I must be content. The best is,
I lodge just over against Dr. Atterbury's house, and
yet perhaps I shall not like the place the better for
that. Well, I'll stay till to-morrow before I answer
your letter; and you must suppose me always writ-
ing at Chelsea from henceforward, till I alter, and
say London. This letter goes on Saturday, which
will be just a fortnight; so go and cheat Goody
Stoyte, &c.
27. Do you know that I fear my whole chest of
Florence is turned sour, at least the two first flasks
were so, and hardly drinkable. How plaguy unfor-
tunate am I and the secretary's own is the best I
ever tasted; and I must not tell him, but be as
I
thankful as if it were the best in Christendom.
went to town in the sixpenny stage to-day, and
hearing Mr. Harley was not at home, I went to see
him, because I knew by the message of his lying
porter that he was at home. He was very well, and
just going out, but made me promise to dine with
him; and between that, and indeed strolling about,
I lost four pound seven shillings at play
with a
a
lady.
a bookseller, and got but half a dozen
books.a I will buy no more books now, that's cer-
tain. Well, I dined at Mr. Harley's, came away at
six, shifted my gown, cassock, and periwig, and
walked hither to Chelsea, as I always design to do
when it is fair. I am heartily sorry to find my friend
the secretary stands a little ticklish with the rest of
the ministry: there have been one or two disobliging
things that have happened, too long to tell and t'other
:
day in parliament, upon a debate of about thirty-five
millions that have not been duly accounted for, Mr.
Secretary, in his warmth of speech, and zeal for his
friend Mr. Brydges, on whom part of the blame was
falling, said," he did not know that either Mr. Brydges
or the late ministry were at all to blame in this mat-
ter;" which was very desperately spoken, and giving
up the whole cause; for the chief quarrel against the
late ministry was the ill management of the treasure,
and was more than all the rest together. I had
heard of this matter, but Mr. Foley beginning to
discourse to-day at table, without naming Mr. St.
John, I turned to Mr. Harley, and said, "if the late
ministry were not to blame in that article, he (Mr.
Harley) ought to lose his head for putting the queen
upon changing them." He made it a jest: but by
some words dropped I easily saw that they take
things ill of Mr. St. John, and by some hints given
me from another hand that I deal with, I am afraid
the secretary will not stand long. This is the fate
of courts. I will, if I meet Mr. St. John alone on
Sunday, tell him my opinion, and beg him to set
himself right, else the consequences may be very
bad, for I see not how they can well want him nei-
ther, and he would make a troublesome enemy. But
enough of politics.
28. Morning.-I forgot to tell you that Mr. Har-
ley asked me yesterday how he came to disoblige
the archbishop of Dublin? upon which (having not
his letter about me) I told him what the bishop had
written to me on that subject, and desired I might
read him the letter some other time. But after all,
from what I have heard from other hands, I am afraid
the archbishop is a little guilty. Here is one Brent
Spencer, a brother of Mr. Proby's, who affirms it,
and says he has leave to do so from Charles Deer-
ing, who heard the words; and Ingoldsby (lord-jus-
tice) abused the archbishop, &c. Well, but now
for your saucy letter: I have no room to answer it:
O yes; enough on t'other side. Are you no sicker?
Stella jeers Presto for not coming over by Christmas;
but indeed Stella does not jeer, but reproach poor,
This must have been at raffling for books.
188
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
poor Presto. And how can I come away, and the
first-fruits not finished? I am of opinion the duke
of Ormond will do nothing in them before he goes,
which will be in a fortnight they say: and then they
must fall to me to be done in his absence. No, in-
deed, I have nothing to print: you know they have
printed the Miscellanies already. Are they on
your side yet? If you have my snuff-box I'll
have your strong-box. Hi, does Stella take snuff
again? or is it only because it is a fine box?
Not the Meddle, but the Medley, you fool. [A vio-
lent Whig journal.] Yes, yes, a wretched thing, be-
cause it is against you Tories: now I think it very
fine, and the Examiner a wretched thing.-Twist
your mouth, sirrah. Guiscard, and what you will
read in the narrative, I ordered to be written, and
nothing else. The Spectator is written by Steele
with Addison's help: 'tis often very pretty. Yes-
terday it was made of a noble hint I gave
him long
ago for his Tatlers, about an Indian supposed to
write his travels into England. I repent he ever
had it. I intended to have written a book on that
subject. I believe he has spent it all in one paper,
and all the under hints there are mine too: but I
never see him or Addison. The queen is well, but
I fear will be no long liver; for I am told she has
sometimes the gout in her bowels (I hate the word
bowels). My ears have been these three months
past much better than any time these two years; but
now they begin to be a little out of order again. My
head is better, though not right; but I trust to air
and walking. You have got my letter, but what
number? I suppose 18. Well, my shin has been
well this month. No, Mrs. Westley came away
without her husband's knowledge, while she was in
the country: she has written to me for some tea.—
They lie; Mr. Harley's wound was very terrible:
he had convulsions, and very narrowly escaped. The
bruise was nine times worse than the wound; he is
weak still. Well, Brooks married; I know all that.
I am sorry for Mrs. Walls' eye: I hope 'tis better.
O yes, you are great walkers; but I have heard them
say, "Much talkers, little walkers ;" and I believe
I may apply the old proverb to you-
(
"If you talk'd no more than you walk'd,
Those that think you wits would be balk'd.”
Yes, Stella shall have a large-printed Bible: I have
put it down among my commissions for MD. I am
glad to hear you have taken the fancy of intending
to read the Bible. Pox take the box: is not it come
yet? this is trusting to your young fellows, young
women; 'tis your fault: I thought you had such
power with Sterne, that he would fly over Mount
Atlas to serve you. You say you are not splenetic;
but if you be, faith you will break poor Presto's-
I won't say the rest; but I vow to God, if I could
decently come over now, I would, and leave all
schemes of politics and ambition for ever. I have
not the opportunities here of preserving my health
by riding, &c., that I have in Ireland; and the
want of health is a great cooler of making one's
court. You guess right about my being bit with a
direction from Walls, and the letter from MD: I be-
lieve I described it in one of my last. This goes to-
night; and I must now rise and walk to town, and
walk back in the evening. God Almighty bless and
preserve poor MD. Farewell.
O faith, don't think, saucy noses, that I'll fill this
third side; I can't stay a letter above a fortnight:
it must go then; and you would rather see a short
one like this than want it a week longer.
My humble service to the dean, and Mrs. Walls, and
good kind hearty Mrs. Stoyte, and honest Catherine.
LETTER THE TWENTY-SECOND.
Chelsea, April 28, 1711.
AT night.-I say at night because I finished my 21st
this morning here, and put it into the post-office my
own self, like a good boy. I think I am a little be-
fore you now, young women: I am writing my 22nd,
and have received your 13th. I got to town between
twelve and one, and put on my new gown and peri-
wig, and dined with lord Abercorn, where I had not
been since the marriage of his son lord Paisley, who
has got ten thousand pounds with a wife. I am
now a country gentleman. I walked home as I
went, and am a little weary, and am got into bed.
I hope in God the air and exercise will do me a
little good. I have been inquiring about statues for
Mrs. Ashe: I made lady Abercorn go with me; and
will send them word next post to Clogher. I hate
to buy for her: I'm sure she'll maunder. I am go-
ing to study.
29. I had a charming walk to and from town to-
day: I washed, shaved, and all, and changed gown
and periwig, by half an hour after nine, and went
to the secretary, who told me how he had differed
with his friends in parliament: I apprehended this
division, and told him a great deal of it.
I went to
court, and there several mentioned it to me as what
they much disliked. I dined with the secretary;
afternoon, which he broke to me first, and said how
and we proposed some business of importance in the
he and Mr. Harley were convinced of the necessity
of it; yet he suffered one of his under-secretaries to
come upon us after dinner, who stayed till six, and
so nothing was done and what care I? He shall
send to me the next time, and ask twice. To-mor-
row I go to the election at Westminster school,
where lads are chosen for the university: they say
'tis a sight, and a great trial of wits. Our expedition
fleet is but just sailed: I believe it will come to no-
thing. Mr. Secretary frets at their tediousness, but
hopes great things from it, though he owns four or
five princes are in the secret; and for that reason I
fear it is no secret to France. There are eight regi-
ments; and the admiral is your Walker'sa brother,
the midwife.
This is
I was at
30. Morn.-I am here in a pretty pickle: it rains
hard; and the cunning natives of Chelsea have out-
witted me, and taken up all the three stage-coaches.
fault. I cannot walk: I'll borrow a coat.
What shall I do? I must go to town: this is your
the blind side of my lodging out of town; I must
expect such inconveniences as these. Faith I'll
gentleman's chaise by chance, and so went to town
walk in the rain. Morrow. At night. I got a
for a shilling, and lie this night in town.
the election of lads at Westminster to-day, and a
very silly thing it is; but they say there will be fine
doings to-morrow. I dined with Dr. Freind, the
second master of the school, with a dozen parsons
and others: Prior would make me stay.
Harley is to hear the election to-morrow; and we
are all to dine with tickets, and hear fine speeches.
'Tis terrible rainy weather again: I lie at a friend's
in the city.
Mr.
May 1. I wish you a merry May-day, and a
thousand more. I was balked at Westminster; I
came too late: I heard no speeches nor verses.
They would not let me into their dining-place for
because Mr. Harley excused his coming, and Atter-
want of a ticket; and I would not send in for one,
bury was not there; and I cared not for the rest:
and so my friend Lewis and I dined with Kit Mus-
grave, if you know such a man; and the weather
"Sir Chamberlain Walker, a celebrated accoucheur.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
1.9
mending I walked gravely home this evening; and
so I design to walk and walk till I am well: I fancy
myself a little better already. How does poor
Stella? Dingley is well enough. Go, get you gone,
naughty girl, you are well enough. O dear MD,
contrive to have some share of the country this
spring: go to Finglas, or Donnybrook, or Clogher,
or Killala, or Lowth. Have you got your box yet?
Yes, yes.
Don't write to me again till this letter
goes: I must make haste, that I may write two for
one. Go to the Bath: I hope you are now at the
Bath, if you had a mind to go; or go to Wexford:
do something for your living. Have you given up
my lodging according to order? I have had just
now a compliment from dean Atterbury's lady, to
command the garden and library, and whatever the
house affords. I lodge just over against them; but
the dean is in town with his convocation: so I have
my dean and prolocutor as well as you, young wo-
men, though he has not so good wine nor so much
meat.
2. A fine day, but begins to grow a little warm ;
and that makes your little fat Presto sweat in the
forehead. Pray, are not the fine buns sold here in
our town; was it not Rrrrrrrrrrare Chelsea Buns?
I bought one to-day in my walk; it cost me a
penny it was stale, and I did not like it, as the
man said, &c. Sir Andrew Fountaine and I dined
at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's; and had a flask of my Flo-
rence, which lies in their cellar; and so I came home
gravely, and saw nobody of consequence to-day.
am very easy here, nobody plaguing me in a morn-
ing; and Patrick saves many a score lies. I sent
over to Mrs. Atterbury, to know whether I might
wait on her? but she is gone a visiting: we have
exchanged some compliments, but I have not seen
her yet. We have no news in our town.
I
She
3. I did not go to town to-day, it was so terrible
rainy; nor have I stirred out of my room till eight
this evening; when I crossed the way to see Mrs.
Atterbury, and thank her for her civilities.
would needs send me some veal, and small beer, and
ale, to-day at dinner; and I have lived a scurvy,
dull, splenetic day, for want of MD: I often
thought how happy I could have been had it rained
eight thousand times more, if MD had been with a
body. My lord Rochester is dead this morning; |
they say at one o'clock; and I hear he died sud-
denly. To-morrow I shall know more. He is a
great loss to us: I cannot think who will succeed
him as lord-president. I have been writing a long
letter to lord Peterborow, and am dull.
4. I dined to-day at lord Shelburne's, where lady
Kerry made me a present of four India handker-
chiefs, which I have a mind to keep for little MD,
only that I had rather, &c. I have been a mighty
handkerchief-monger, and have bought abundance
of snuff once since I have left off taking snuff. And
I am resolved, when I come over, MD shall be ac-
quainted with lady Kerry: we have struck up a mighty
friendship; and she has much better sense than any
other lady of your country. We are almost in love
with one another: but she is most egregiously ugly;
but perfectly well bred, and governable as I please. I
am resolved, when I come, to keep no company but
MD; you know I kept my resolution last time; and,
except Mr. Addison, conversed with none but you
and your club of deans and Stoytes. 'Tis three
weeks, young women, since I had a letter from you;
and yet, methinks, I would not have another for five
pound till this is gone; and yet I send every day to
the coffeehouse, and I would fain have a letter,
and not have a letter; and I don't know what,
nor I don't know how; and this goes on very slow;
I am a poor
'tis a week to-morrow since I began it.
country gentleman, and don't know how the world
passes. Do you know that every syllable I write I
hold my lips just for all the world as if I were talk-
ing in our own little language to MD. Faith, I am
very silly; but I can't help it for my life.
I got
home carly to-night. My solicitors, that used to
ply me every morning, knew not where to find me;
and I am so happy not to hear Patrick, Patrick,
called a hundred times every morning. But I look-
ed backward, and find I have said this before. What
care I go to the dean and roast the oranges.
5. I dined to-day with my friend Lewis, and we
were deep in politics how to save the present mi-
nistry; for I am afraid of Mr. Secretary, as I believe
I told you.
I went in the evening to see Mr. Har-
ley; and upon my word I was in perfect joy. Mr.
Secretary was just going out of the door; but I
made him come back, and there was the old Satur-
day club, lord-keeper, lord Rivers, Mr. Secretary,
Mr. Harley, and I; the first time since his stabbing.
Mr. Secretary went away; but I stayed till nine,
and made Mr. Harley show me his breast, and tell
all the story and I showed him the archbishop of
Dublin's letter, and defended him effectually. We
were all in mighty good humour.-Lord-keeper and
I left them together, and I walked here after nine,
two miles, and I found a parson drunk fighting with
a seaman, and Patrick and I were so wise to part
them, but the seaman followed him to Chelsea,
cursing at him, and the parson slipped into a house,
and I know no more. It mortified me to see a man
in my coat so overtaken.-A pretty scene for one
that just came from sitting with the prime ministers:
I had no money in my pocket, and so could not be
robbed. However, nothing but Mr. Harley shall
make me take such a journey again.
We don't yet
know who will be president in lord Rochester's
room. I measured, and found that the penknife
would have killed Mr. Harley, if it had gone but
half the breadth of my thumb-nail lower; so near
was he to death. I was so curious to ask him what
were his thoughts while they were carrying him
home in the chair. He said, he concluded himself
a dead man. He will not allow that Guiscard gave
him the second stab, though my lord-keeper, who is
blind, and I that was not there, are positive in it.
He wears a plaster still as broad as half-a-crown.
Smoke how wide the lines are, but faith I don't do
it on purpose: but I have changed my side in this
new Chelsea bed, and I don't know how methinks,
but it is so unfit, and so awkward, never saw the like.
6. You must remember to enclose your letters in
a fair paper, and direct the outside thus :-To Eras-
mus Lewis, esq., at my lord Dartmouth's office at
Whitehall; I said so before, but it may miscarry,
you know, yet I think none of my letters did ever
miscarry; faith I think never one, among all the
privateers and the storms: O faith, my letters are
too good to be lost.
MD's letters may tarry,
But never miscarry,
as the old woman used to say. And indeed, how
should they miscarry, when they never come before
their time? It was a terrible rainy day; yet I made
a shift to steal fair weather over head enough to go
and come in. I was early with the secretary, and
dined with him afterward. In the morning I began
to chide him, and tell him my fears of his proceed-
ings. But Arthur Moore came up and relieved
him. But I forgot, for you never heard of Arthur
Moore. But when I get Mr. Harley alone I will
a Brother to the carl of Drogheda, lord commissioner of trade,
30th Sept., 1710.
190
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
know the bottom. You will have Dr. Raymond | knocked him down: this was above a fortnight ago,
over before this letter, and what care you?
7. I hope and believe my walks every day do me
good. I was busy at home, and set out late this
morning, and dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, at
whose lodgings I always change my gown and peri-
wig. I visited this afternoon, and, among others,
poor Biddy Floyd, who is very red, but I believe
won't be much marked. As I was coming home I
met sir George Beaumont in the Pall-mall, who
would needs walk with me as far as Buckingham-
house. I was telling him of my head: he said he
had been ill of the same disorder, and by all means.
forbid me bohea tea, which, he said, always gave it
him; and that Dr. Ratcliffe said it was very bad.
Now I had observed the same thing, and have left
it off this month, having found myself ill after it
several times; and I mention it that Stella may
consider it for her poor own little head: a pound
lies ready packed up, and directed for Mrs. Walls,
to be sent by the first convenience. Mr. Secretary
told me yesterday that Mr. Harley would this week
be lord-treasurer and a peer, so I expect it every
day; yet perhaps it may not be till parliament is
up, which will be in a fortnight.
a
8. I was to-day with the duke of Ormond, and
recommended to him the case of poor Joe Beau-
mont, who promises me to do him all justice and fa-
vour, and give him encouragement: and desired I
would give a memorial to Ned Southwell about it,
which I will, and so tell Joe when you see him,
though he knows it already by a letter I writ to Mr.
Warburton. It was bloody hot walking to-day. I
dined in the city, and went and came by water; and it
rained so this evening again, that I thought I should
hardly be able to get a dry hour to walk home in.
I'll send to-morrow to the coffeehouse for a letter
from MD; but I would not have one, methinks, till
this is gone, as it shall on Saturday. I visited the
duchess of Ormond this morning; she does not go
over with the duke. I spoke to her to get a lad
touched for the evil, the son of a grocer in Capel-
street, one Bell; the ladies have bought sugar and
plums of him. Mrs. Mary used to go there often.
This is Patrick's account; and the poor fellow has
been here some months with his boy. But the
queen has not been able to touch, and it now grows
so warm I fear she will not at all.b Go, go, go to
the dean's, and let him carry you to Donnybrook,
and cut asparagus. Has Parvisol sent you any this
year? I cannot sleep in the beginnings of the
nights, the heat or something hinders me, and I am
drowsy in the mornings.
c
9. Dr. Freind came this morning to visit Atter-
bury's lady and children as a physician, and per-
suaded me to go with him to town in his chariot.
He told me he had been an hour before with sir
Cholmley Dering, Charles Dering's nephew, and
head of that family in Kent, for which he is knight
of the shire. He said he left him dying of a pistol-
shot quite through the body, by one Mr. Thornhill.d
-They fought at sword and pistol this morning in
Tuttle-fields; their pistols so near that the muzzles
touched. Thornhill discharged first, and Dering,
having received the shot, discharged his pistol as
he was falling, so it went into the air. The story of
this quarrel is long. Thornhill had lost seven teeth
by a kick in the mouth from Dering, who had first
" Dr. Swift's curate at Laracor.
Queen Anne was the last sovereign who practised this su-
perstition.
From Swift's garden at Laracor.
d Mr. Richard Thornhill was tried at the Old Bailey, May
18, 1711, and found guilty of manslaughter. He was soon
after killed on Turnhamn-green. See Journal, Aug. 21.
|
Dering was next week to be married to a fine young
lady. This makes a noise here, but you won't value
it. Well, Mr. Harley, lord-keeper, and one or two
more, are to be made lords immediately; their pa-
tents are now passing, and I read the preamble
[written by the dean] to Mr. Harley's, full of his
praises. Lewis and I dined with Ford; I found
the wine: two flasks of my Florence, and two bot-
tles of six that Dr. Raymond sent me of French
wine; he sent it to me to drink with sir Robert
Raymond and Mr. Harley's brother, whom I had
introduced him to; but they never could find time.
to come: and now I have left the town, and it is
too late.-Raymond will think it a cheat. What
care I, sirrah?
10. Pshaw, pshaw, Patrick brought me four let-
ters to-day from Dilly at Bath; Joe; Parvisol;
and, what was the fourth, who can tell? Stand
away, who'll guess? who can it be? You, old man
with a stick, can you tell who the fourth is from?
Iss, an please your honour, it is from one madam
MD, No. 14. Well; but I can't send this away
now, because it was here, and I was in town, but it
shall go on Saturday, and this is Thursday night,
and it will be time enough for Wexford.-Take my
method: I write here to Parvisol to lend Stella
twenty pounds, and to take her note promissory to
pay it in half a year, &c. You shall see, and if you
want more let me know afterward; and be sure my
money shall be always paid constantly too. Have
you been good or ill housewives, pray?
11. Joe has written to me to get him a collector's
place, nothing else; he says all the world knows of
my great intimacy with Mr. Harley, and that the
smallest word to him will do. This is the constant
cant of puppies who are at a distance, and strangers
to courts and ministers. My answer is this; which
pray send: That I am ready to serve Joe as far as I
can; that I have spoken to the duke of Ormond
about his money, as I writ to Warburton; that, for
the particular he mentions, it is a work of time
which I cannot think of at present. But if accidents
and opportunities should happen hereafter, I would
not be wanting; that I know best how far my credit
goes; that he is at a distance, and cannot judge;
that I would be glad to do him good; and, if for-
tune throws an opportunity in my way, I shall not
be wanting. This is my answer; which you may
send or read to him. Pray contrive that Parvisol
may not run away with my two hundred pounds,
but get Burton's [a celebrated Dublin banker] note,
and let the money be returned me by bill. Don't
laugh, for I will be suspicious. Teach Parvisol to
enclose, and direct the outside to Mr. Lewis.
will answer your letter in my next, only what I take
notice of here excepted. I forgot to tell you that
at the court of requests to-day I could not find a
dinner I liked, and it grew late, and I dined with
Mrs. Vanhomrigh, &c.
12. Morning. I will finish this letter before I go
to town, because I shall be busy, and have neither
time nor place there. Farewell, &c. &c.
LETTER THE TWENTY-THIRD.
I
Chelsea, May 12, 1711.
I
I SENT you my 22nd this afternoon in town.
dined with Mr. Harley and the old club, lord Rivers,
lord-keeper, and Mr. Secretary.--They rallied me
last week, and said I must have Mr. St. John's
leave, so I writ to him yesterday, that, foreseeing I
should never dine again with sir Simon Harcourt,
knight, and Robert Harley, esq., I was resolved to
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
191
do it to-day. The jest is, that before Saturday next
we expect they will be lords; for Mr. Harley's
patent is drawing to be earl of Oxford.
Mr.
Secretary and I came away at seven, and he brought
me to our town's end in his coach; so I lost my
walk. St. John read my letter to the company,
which was all raillery, and passed purely.
13. It rained all last night and this morning as
heavy as lead; but I just got fair weather to walk
to town before church. The roads are all over in
deep puddle. The hay of our town is almost fit to
be mowed. I went to court after church, (as I al-
ways do on Sundays,) and then dined with Mr.
Secretary, who has engaged me for every Sunday,
and poor MD dined at home upon a bit of veal and
a pint of wine. Is it not plaguy insipid to tell you
every day when I dine? yet now I have got into the
way of it, I cannot forbear it neither. Indeed, Mr.
Presto, you had better go answer MD's letter, No.
14. I'll answer it when I please, Mr. Doctor.
What's that you say? The court was very full this
morning, expecting Mr. Harley would be declared
earl of Oxford, and have the treasurer's staff. Mr.
Harley never comes to court at all; somebody there
asked me the reason; Why, said I, the lord of Ox-
ford knows. He always goes to the queen by the
back stairs. I was told for certain your jackanapes,
lord Santry, was dead; captain Cammock assured
me so; and now he's alive again, they say; but
that shan't do; he shall be dead to me as long as
he lives. Dick Tighe and I meet and never stir our
hats. I am resolved to mistake him for Withering-
ton, the little nasty lawyer that came up to me so
sternly at the castle the day I left Ireland. I'll ask
the gentleman I saw walking with him how long
Witherington has been in town.
14. I went to town to-day by water. The hail
quite discouraged me from walking, and there is no
shade in the greatest part of the way: I took the
first boat, and had a footman my companion; then
went again by water, and dined in the city with a
printer, to whom I carried a pamphlet in manuscript
that Mr. Secretary gave me. The printer sent it to
the secretary for his approbation, and he desired me
to look it over, which I did, and found it a very
Scurvy piece. The reason I tell you so is, because
it was done by your parson Slap, Scrap, Flap, (what
d'ye call him?) Trap, your chancellor's chaplain.,
"Tis called "A Character of the present Set of Whigs,"
and is going to be printed, and no doubt the author
will take care to produce it in Ireland. Dr. Freind,
was with me, and pulled out a twopenny pamphlet
just published called "The State of Wit," giving a
character of all the papers that have come out of late.
The author seems to be a Whig, yet he speaks very
highly of a paper called the Examiner, and says
the supposed author of it is Dr. Swift. But above
all things he praises the Tatlers and Spectators; and
I believe Steele and Addison were privy to the print-
ing of it. Thus is one treated by these impudent
dogs.
And that villain Curl has scraped up some
trash, and calls it Dr. Swift's Miscellanies, with the
name at large, and I can get no satisfaction of him.
Nay, Mr. Harley told me he had read it, and only
laughed at me before lord-keeper and the rest.
Since I came home I have been sitting with the pro-
locutor, dean Atterbury, who is my neighbour over
the
way; but generallly keeps in town with his con-
vocation. 'Tis late, &c.
15. My walk to town to-day was after ten, and
prodigiously hot: I dined with lord Shelburne, and
have desired Mrs. Pratt, who lodges there, to carry
over Mrs. Walls' tea; I hope she will do it, and
they talk of going in a fortnight. My way is this :
I leave my best gown and periwig at Mrs. Vanhom-
righ's, then walk up the Pall-mall, through the
park, out at Buckingham-house, and so to Chelsea
a little beyond the church: I set out about sunset,
and get here in something less than an hour; it is
two good miles, and just five thousand seven hundred
and forty-eight steps; so there is four miles a day
walking, without reckoning what I walk while I
stay in town. When I pass the Mall in the evening
it is prodigious to see the number of ladies walking
there; and I always cry shame at the ladies of Ire-
land, who never walk at all, as if their legs were of
no use but to be laid aside. I have been now almost
three weeks here, and I thank God am much better
in my head, if it does but continue. I tell you what;
if I was with you, when we went to Stoyte at
Donnybrook, we would only take a coach to the
hither end of Stephen's-green, and from thence go
every step on foot, yes faith, every step; it would
do: DD goes as well as Presto. Everybody tells
me I look better already; for faith I looked sadly,
that's certain. My breakfast is milk porridge: I
don't love it, faith I hate it, but 'tis cheap and whole-
some; and I hate to be obliged to either of those
qualities for anything.
a
16. I wonder why Presto will be so tedious in
answering MD's letters; because he would keep the
best to the last I suppose. Well, Presto must be
humoured, it must be as he will have it, or there will
be an old to do. Dead with heat, are not you very
hot? My walks make my forehead sweat rarely;
sometimes my morning journey is by water, as it
was to-day with one parson Richardson, who came
to see me, on his going to Ireland; and with him I
send Mrs. Walls' tea, and three books I got from the
lords of the treasury for the college [university of
Dublin]. I dined with lord Shelburne to-day;
lady Kerry and Mrs. Pratt are going likewise for
Ireland.-Lord, I forgot, I dined with Mr. Prior to-
day, at his house, with dean Atterbury and others;
and came home pretty late, and I think I'm in a
fuzz, and don't know what I say, never saw the like.
17. Sterne came here by water to see me this
morning, and I went back with him to his boat.
He tells me that Mrs. Edgworth married a fellow
in her journey to Chester: so I believe she little
thought of anybody's box but her own. I desired
Sterne to give me directions where to get the box
in Chester, which he says he will to-morrow, and I
will write to Richardson to get it up there as he goes
by, and whip it over. It is directed to Mrs. Curry:
you must caution her of it, and desire her to send
it you when it comes. Sterne says Jemmy Leigh
loves London mightily: that makes him stay so long,
I believe, and not Sterne's business, which Mr.
Harley's accident has put much backward. We
expect now every day that he will be earl of Oxford
and lord-treasurer. His patent is passing; but they
say, lord-keeper's not yet, at least his son, young
Harcourt, told me so t'other day. I dined to-day
privately with my friend Lewis at his lodgings at
Whitehall. T'other day at Whitehall I met a lady
of my acquaintance, whom I had not seen before
since I came to England: we were mighty glad to
see each other, and she has engaged me to visit her,
as I design to do. It is one Mrs. Colledge: she has
lodgings at Whitehall, having been seamstress to
King William, worth three hundred a year. Her
father was a fanatic joiner, hanged for treason in
Shaftesbury's plot. This noble person and I were
brought acquainted, some years ago, by lady Berkeley.
I love good creditable acquaintance; I love to be
the worst of the company: I am not of those that
In this passage DD signifies both Dingley and Stella.
192
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
say, for want of company, welcome trumpery. I
was this evening with lady Kerry and Mrs. Pratt at
Vauxhall, to hear the nightingales; but they are
almost past singing.
18. I was hunting the secretary to-day in vain
about some business, and dined with colonel Crowe,
late governor of Barbadoes, and your friend Sterne
was the third: he is very kind to Sterne, and helps
him in his business, which lies asleep till Mr. Harley
is lord-treasurer, because nothing of moment is now
done in the treasury, the change being expected every
day. I sat with dean Atterbury till one o'clock
after I came home; so 'tis late, &c.
19. Do you know that about our town we are
mowing already and making hay, and it smells so
sweet as we walk through the flowery meads; but
the hay-making nymphs are perfect drabs, nothing
so clean and pretty as farther in the country. There
is a mighty increase of dirty wenches in straw hats
since I knew London. I stayed at home till five
o'clock, and dined with dean Atterbury: then went
by water to Mr. Harley's, where the Saturday club
was met, with the addition of the duke of Shrews-
bury. I whispered lord Rivers that I did not like
to see a stranger among us; and the rogue told it
aloud: but Mr. Secretary said the duke writ to have
leave: so I appeared satisfied, and so we laughed.
Mr. Secretary told me the duke of Bukingham had
been talking to him much about me, and desired my
acquaintance. I answered, it could not be; for he
had not made sufficient advances. Then the duke
of Shrewsbury said he thought that duke was not
used to make advances. 1 said I could not help
that; for I always expected advances in proportion
to men's quality, and more from a duke than other
men. The duke replied that he did not mean any-
thing of his quality; which was handsomely said
enough, for he meant his pride: and I have invented
a notion to believe that nobody is proud. At ten all
the company went away; and from ten till twelve
Mr. Harley and I sat together, where we talked
through a great deal of matters I had a mind to settle
with him, and then walked in a fine moonshine night
to Chelsea, where I got by one. Lord Rivers con-
jured me not to walk so late; but I would, because I
had no other way; but I had no money to lose.
20. By what lord-keeper told me last night, I find
he will not be made a peer so soon, but Mr. Harley's
patent for earl of Oxford is now drawing, and will
be done in three days. We made him own it, which
he did scurvily, and then talked of it like the rest.
Mr. Secretary had too much company with him to-
day; so I came away soon after dinner. I give no
man liberty to swear or talk b-dy, and I found
some of them were in constraint, so I left them to
themselves. I wish you a merry Whitsuntide, and
pray tell me how you pass away your time: but faith,
you are going to Wexford, and I fear this letter is
too late; it shall go on Thursday, and sooner it can-
not, I have so much business to hinder me an-
swering yours. Where must I direct in your ab-
sence? Do you quit your lodgings ?
21. Going to town this morning, I met in the Pall-
mall a clergyman of Ireland, whom I love very well,
and was glad to see, and with him a little jackanapes
of Ireland too, who married Nanny Swift, uncle
Adam's daughter, one Perry; perhaps you may have
heard of him, His wife has sent him here to get a
place from Lownds; because my uncle and Lownds
married two sisters, and Lownds is a great man here
in the treasury but by good luck I have no ac-
九
​•
Gay addressed some humorous verses "To my very in-
genious and worthy Friend William Lownds, Esq., Author of
that celebrated Treatise in folio, called the Land Tax Bill."
|
quaintance with him; however, he expected I should
be his friend to Lownds, and one word of mine, &c. ;
the old cant. But I will not go two yards to help
him. I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, where I keep
my best gown and periwig to put on when I come to
town and be a spark.
22. I dined to-day in the city, and coming home
this evening I met sir Thomas Mansel and Mr. Lewis
in the park. Lewis whispered me that Mr. Harley's
patent for earl of Oxford was passed in Mr. secretary
St. John's office; so to-morrow or next day I sup-
pose he will be declared earl of Oxford, and have
the staff. This man has grown by persecutions,
turnings out, and stabbing. What waiting, and
crowding, and bowing, will be at his levee! yet if
human nature be capable of so much constancy, I
should believe he will be the same man still, bating
the necessary forms of grandeur he must keep up.
'Tis late, sirrahs, and I'll go sleep.
23. Morning. I sat up late last night, and waked
late to-day; but will now answer your letter in bed
before I go to town, and will send it to-morrow; for
perhaps you mayn't go so soon to Wexford.-No,
you are not out in your number: the last was No. 14,
and so I told you twice or thrice; will you never be
satisfied? What shall we do for poor Stella? Go to
Wexford, for God's sake: I wish you were to walk
there by three miles a-day, with a good lodging at every
mile's end. Walking has done me so much good that I
cannot but prescribe it often to poor Stella. Parvisol
has sent me a bill for fifty pounds, which I am sorry
for, having not written to him for it, only mentioned it
two months ago; but I hope he will be able to tell you
what I have drawn upon him for; he never sent me
any sum before but one bill of twenty pounds, half
a year ago. You are welcome as my blood to every
farthing I have in the world; and all that grieves
me is, I am not richer, for MD's sake, as hope saved.
I suppose you give up your lodgings when you go
to Wexford; yet that will be inconvenient too: yet
I wish again you were under the necessity of ram-
bling the country till Michaelmas, faith. No, let
him keep the shelves, with a pox; yet they are ex-
acting people about those four weeks, or Mrs. Brent
may have the shelves, if she please. I am obliged
to your dean for his kind offer of lending me money.
Will that be enough to say? A hundred people
would lend me money, or to any man who has not
the reputation of a squanderer. O faith, I should
be glad to be in the same kingdom with MD, how-
ever, although you were at Wexford. But I am
kept here by a most capricious fate, which I would
break through if I could do it with decency or
honour. To return without some mark of distinc-
tion would look extremely little; and I would like-
wise gladly be somewhat richer than I am. I will
say no more, but beg you to be easy till Fortune take
her course, and to believe that MD's felicity is the
great end I aim at in all my pursuits. And so let
us talk no more on this subject, which makes me
melancholy, and that I would fain divert. Believe
me, no man breathing at present has less share of
happiness in life than I: I do not say I am unhappy
at all, but that everything here is tasteless to me for
want of being where I would be. And so a short
sigh, and no more of this. Well, come, and let's
see what's next, young women. Pox take Mrs.
Edgworth and Sterne: I will take some methods
about that box. What orders would you have me
give about the picture? Can't you do with it as if
it were your own? No, I hope Manley will keep
his place, for I hear nothing of sir Thomas Franklin's
losing his.
losing his. Send nothing under cover to Mr. Ad-
dison, but to Erasmus Lewis, esq., at my lord Dart-
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
193
mouth's office at Whitehall. Direct your outside
80. Poor dear Stella, don't write in the dark, nor
in the light neither, but dictate to Dingley; she is a
naughty healthy girl, and may drudge for both.
Are you good company together? and don't you
quarrel too often? Pray, love one another, and kiss
one another just now, as Dingley is reading this;
for you quarrelled this morning just after Mrs.
Marget had poured water on Stella's head: I heard
the little bird say so. Well, I have answered every-
thing in your letter that required it, and yet the
second side is not full. I'll come home at night,
and say more; and to-morrow this goes for certain.
Go, get you gone to your own chambers, and let
Presto rise like a modest gentleman, and walk to
town. I fancy I begin to sweat less in the forehead
by constant walking than I used to do; but then I
shall be so sunburnt, the ladies won't like me.
Come, let me rise, sirrahs. Morrow. At night.-I
dined with Ford to-day at his lodgings, and I found
wine out of my own cellar, some of my own chest of
the great duke's wine: it begins to turn. They say
wine with you in Ireland is half-a-crown a bottle.
'Tis as Stella says, nothing that once grows dear in
Ireland ever grows cheap again, except corn, with a
pox, to ruin the parson. I had a letter to-day from
the archbishop of Dublin, giving me farther thanks
about vindicating him to Mr. Harley and Mr. St.
John, and telling me a long story about your mayor's
election, wherein I find he has had a finger, and
given way to farther talk about him; but we know
nothing of it here yet. This walking to and fro,
and dressing myself, takes up so much of my time,
that I cannot go among company so much as for-
merly; yet what must a body do? I thank God I
yet continue much better since I left the town; I
know not how long it may last. I am sure it has
done me some good for the present. I do not totter
as I did, but walk firm as a cock, only once or twice
for a minute, I don't know how; but it went off,
and I never followed it. Does Dingley read my
hand as well as ever? Do you, sirrah? Poor Stella
must not read Presto's ugly small hand. Preserve
your eyes, if you be wise. Your friend Walls's tea
will go in a day or two toward Chester by one parson
Richardson. My humble service to her, and to
good Mrs. Stoyte and Catherine; and pray walk
while you continue in Dublin. I expect your next
but one will be from Wexford. God bless dearest
MD.
24. Morning.-Mr. Secretary has sent his groom
hither to invite me to dinner to-day, &c. God Al-
mighty for ever bless and preserve you both, and
give you health, &c. Amen. Farewell, &c.
Don't I often say the same thing two or three times
in the same letter, sirrah?
Great wits, they say, have but short memories;
that's good vile conversation.
LETTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH.
Chelsea, May 24, 1711.
MORNING. Once in my life the number of my letters
and of the day of the month is the same; that's
lucky, boys; that's a sign that things will meet, and
that we shall make a figure together. What, will
you still have the impudence to say London, Eng-
land, because I say Dublin, Ireland? Is there no
difference between London and Dublin, saucy boxes?
I have sealed up my letter, and am going to town.
Morrow, sirrahs. At night. I dined with the
secretary to-day; we sat down between five and
six.
is
Mr. Harley's patent passed this morning; he
now earl of Oxford, earl Mortimer, and lord Harley
VOL. I.
of Wigmore castle. My letter was sealed, or I would
have told you this yesterday; but the public news
may tell it you. The queen, for all her favour, has
kept a rod for him in her closet this week; I sup-
pose he will take it from her though in a day or
two. At eight o'clock this evening it rained pro-
digiously, as it did from five; however, I set out,
and in half way the rain lessened, and I got home,
but tolerably wet; and this is the first wet walk
I have had in a month's time that I am here:
but however I got to bed, after a short visit to
Atterbury.
25. It rained this morning, and I went to town
by water; and Ford and I dined with Mr. Lewis
by appointment.
I ordered Patrick to bring my
gown and periwig to Mr. Lewis, because I designed
to go to see lord Oxford, and so I told the dog; but
he never came, though I stayed an hour longer than
I appointed; so I went in my old gown, and sat
with him two hours, but could not talk over some
business I had with him, so he has desired me to
dine with him on Sunday, and I must disappoint
the secretary. My lord set me down at a coffee-
house, where I waited for the dean of Carlisle's
chariot to bring me to Chelsea: for the dean did not
come himself, but sent me his chariot, which has
cost me two shillings to the coachman; and so I am
got home, and Lord knows what has become of
Patrick. I think I must send him over to you, for
he is an intolerable rascal. If I had come without
a gown he would have served me so, though my life
and preferment should have lain upon it: and I am
making a livery for him will cost me four pounds;
but I will order the tailor to-morrow to stop till
farther orders. My lord Oxford can't yet abide to
be called my lord; and when I called him my lord,
he called me Dr. Thomas Swift, which he always
does when he has a mind to teaze me. By a second
hand he proposed my being his chaplain, which I by
a second hand excused; but we had no talk of it to-
day; but I will be no man's chaplain alive. But I
must go and be busy.
26. I never saw Patrick till this morning, and
that only once, for I dressed myself without him;
and when I went to town he was out of the way.
I immediately sent for the tailor, and ordered him
to stop his hand in Patrick's clothes till farther
orders. O, if it were in Ireland, I should have
turned him off ten times ago; and it is no regard
to him, but myself, that has made me keep him so
long. Now I am afraid to give the rogue his clothes.
What shall I do? I wish MD were here to entreat
for him, just here at the bed's side. Lady Ashburn-
ham has been engaging me this long time to dine
with her, and I set to-day apart for it; and whatever
was the mistake, she sent me word she was at dinner
and undressed, but would be glad to see me in the
afternoon; so I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and
would not go see her at all, in a huff. My fine
Florence is turning sour with a vengeance, and I
have not drunk half of it. As I was coming home
to-night, sir Thomas Mansel and Tom Harley met
me in the park, and made me walk with them till
nine, like unreasonable whelps; so I got not here
till ten; but it was a fine evening, and the footpath
clean enough already after this hard rain.
27. Going this morning to town, I saw two old
lame fellows walking to a brandy-shop, and when
they got to the door, stood a long time compliment-
ing who should go in first. Though this be no jest
to tell, it was an admirable one to see. I dined to-
day with my lord Oxford and the ladies, the new
countess, and lady Betty, who has been these three
days a lady born. My lord left us at seven, and I
194
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
had no time to speak to him about some affairs; but just by the river, and I went down with only my
he promises in a day or two we shall dine alone, | nightgown and slippers on at eleven, but came up
which is mighty likely, considering we expect every again; however, one of these nights I will venture.
moment that the queen will give him the staff, and
then he will be so crowded he will be good for no-
thing: for aught I know he may have it to-night at
council.
28. I had a petition sent me t'other day from one
Stephen Gernon, setting forth "that he formerly
lived with Harry Tenison, who gave him an em-
ployment of gauger; and that he was turned out
after Harry's death, and came for England, and is
now starving," or, as he expresses it, "that the staff
of life has been of late a stranger to his appetite."
To-day the poor fellow called, and I knew him very
well, a young slender fellow with freckles in his
face; you must remember him; he waited at table
as a better sort of servant. I gave him a crown,
and promised to do what I could to help him to a
service, which I did for Harry Tenison's memory.
It was b― hot walking to-day, and I was so lazy
I dined where my new gown was, at Mrs. Vanhom-
righ's, and came back like a fool, and the dean of
Carlisle has sat with me till eleven. Lord Oxford
has not the staff yet.
29. I was this morning in town by ten, though it
was shaving day, and went to the secretary about
some affairs, then visited the duke and duchess of
Ormond; but the latter was dressing to go out, and
I could not see her. My lord Oxford had the staff
given him this morning, so now I must call him lord
Oxford no more, but lord-treasurer: I hope he will
stick there; this is twice he has changed his name
this week; and I heard to-day in the city (where I
dined) that he will very soon have the garter.-
Prithee, don't you observe how strangely I have
changed my company and manner of living? I never
go to a coffeehouse; you hear no more of Addison,
Steele, Henley, lady Lucy, Mrs. Finch, lord Somers,
lord Halifax, &c. I think I have altered for the
better. Did I tell you the archbishop of Dublin has
writ me a long letter of a squabble in your town
about choosing a mayor, and that he apprehended
some censure for the share he had in it. I have not
heard anything of it here; but I shall not be always
able to defend him. We hear your bishop Hickman
is dead; but nobody here will do anything for me in
Ireland, so they may die as fast or slow as they
please. Well, you are constant to your deans, and
your Stoyte, and your Walls. Walls will have her
tea soon; parson Richardson is either going or gone
to Ireland, and has it with him. I hear Mr. Lewis
has two letters for me: I could not call for them to-
day, but will to-morrow: and perhaps one of them
may be from our little MD, who knows, man? who
can tell? Many more unlikely thing has happened.
Pshaw, I write so plaguy little, I can hardly see
it myself. Write bigger, sirraha Presto. No, but I
won't. O, you are a saucy rogue, Mr. Presto, you
are so impudent. Come, dear rogues, let Presto go
to sleep: I have been with the dean, and 'tis near
twelve.
30. I am so hot and lazy after my morning's walk,
that I loitered at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, where my best
gown and periwig was, and out of mere listlessness
dine there very often, so I did to-day; but I got
little MD's letter, No. 15 (you see, sirrahs, I re-
member to tell the number), from Mr. Lewis, and I
read it in a closet they lend me at Mrs. Van's, and
I find Stella is a saucy rogue and a great writer, and
can write finely still when her hand's in and her pen
good. When I came here to-night I had a mighty
mind to go swim after I was cool, for my lodging is
. These words in italics are written in a large round hand.
31. I was so hot this morning with my walk that
I resolved to do so no more during this violent burn-
ing weather. It is comical that now we happen to
have such heat to ripen the fruit, there has been the
greatest blast that ever was known, and almost all
the fruit is despaired of. I dined with lord Shel-
burne; lady Kerry and Mrs. Pratt are going to
Ireland. I went this evening to lord-treasurer, and
sat about two hours with him in mixed company;
he left us and went to court, and carried two staves
with him, so I suppose we shall have a new lord-
steward or comptroller to-morrow; I smoked that
state secret out by that accident. I won't answer
your letter yet, sirrahs, no, I won't, madam.
June 1. I wish you a merry month of June. I
dined again with the Vans and sir Andrew Fountaine.
I always give them a flask of my Florence, which
now begins to spoil, but 'tis near an end. I went
this afternoon to Mrs. Vedeau's, and brought away
madam Dingley's parchment and letter of attorney.
Mrs. Vedeau tells me she has sent the bill a fortnight
ago. I will give the parchment to Ben Tooke, and
you shall send him a letter of attorney at your leisure,
enclosed to Mr. Presto. Yes, I now think your
mackerel is full as good as ours, which I did not
think formerly. I was bit about the two staves, for
there is no new officer made to-day. This letter will
find you still in Dublin, I suppose, or at Donnybrook,
or losing your money at Walls' (how does she do?).
2. I missed this day by a blunder, and dining in
the city.a
3. No boats on Sunday, never: so I was forced to
walk, and so hot by the time I got to Ford's lodging,
that I was quite spent; I think the weather is mad.
I could not go to church. I dined with the secretary
as usual, and old colonel Graham that lived at Bag-
shot-heath, and they said it was colonel Graham's
house. Pshaw, I remember it very well, when I
used to go for a walk to London from Moor-park.
What, I warrant you don't remember the golden
farmer neither, Figgarkick Soley.
4. When must we answer this letter, this No. 15
of our little MD? Heat and laziness and sir Andrew
Fountaine made me dine to-day again at Mrs. Van's,
and, in short, this weather is insupportable; how is
it with you? Lady Betty Butler and lady Ashburn-
ham sat with me two or three hours this evening in
my closet at Mrs. Van's. They are very good girls,
and if lady Betty went to Ireland you should let her
be acquainted with you. How does Dingley do this
hot weather? Stella, I think, never complains of it,
she loves hot weather. There has not been a drop
of rain since Friday se’ennight. Yes, you do love
hot weather, naughty Stella, you do so, and Presto
can't abide it. Be a good girl, then, and I'll love
you: and love one another, and don't be quarrelling
girls.
5. I dined in the city to-day, and went from hence
early to town, and visited the duke of Ormond and
Mr. Secretary. They say my lord-treasurer has a
dead warrant in his pocket; they mean a list of those
who are to be turned out of employment, and we
every day now expect those changes. I passed by
the treasury to-day, and saw vast crowds waiting to
give lord-treasurer petitions as he passes by. He is
now at the top of power and favour: he keeps no
levee yet. I am cruel thirsty this hot weather.--I
am just this minute going to swim. I take Patrick
down with me to hold my nightgown, shirt, and
slippers, and borrow a napkin of my landlady for a
This is interlined in the original.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
195
cap.
So farewell till I come up; but there's no
danger, don't be frighted-I have been swimming
this half-hour and more; and when I was coming out
I dived, to make my head and all through wet, like
a cold bath; but as I dived the napkin fell off and
is lost, and I have that to pay for. O faith, the great
stones were so sharp, I could hardly set my feet on
them as I came out. It was pure and warm.
I got
to bed, and will now go sleep.
6. Morning. This letter shall go to-morrow; so
I will answer yours when I come home to-night. I
feel no hurt from last night's swimming. I lie
with nothing but the sheet over me, and my feet
quite bare. I must rise and go to town before the
tide is against me.
Morrow, sirrahs; dear sirrahs,
morrow. At night. I never felt so hot a day as this
since I was born. I dined with lady Betty Germain,
and there was the young earl of Berkeley and his
fine lady. I never saw her before, nor think her
near so handsome as she passes for. After dinner
Mr. Bertue would not let me put ice in my wine;
but said, "my lord Dorchester got the bloody flux
with it, and that it was the worst thing in the world."
Thus are we plagued, thus are we plagued; yet I
have done it five or six times this summer, and was
but the drier and the hotter for it. Nothing makes
me so excessively peevish as hot weather. Lady
Berkeley after dinner clapped my hat on another
lady's head, and she in roguery put it upon the rails.
I minded them not, but in two minutes they called
me to the window, and lady Carteret showed me my
hat out of her window five doors off, where I was
forced to walk to it, and pay her and old lady Wey-
mouth a visit, with some more beldames; then I
went and drank coffee, and made one or two puns
with lord Pembroke, and designed to go to lord-
treasurer; but it was too late, and besides I was half
broiled, and broiled without butter; for I never
sweat after dinner if I drink any wine. Then I sat
an hour with lady Betty Butler at tea, and everything
made me hotter and drier. Then I walked home,
and was here by ten, so miserably hot that I was in
as perfect a passion as ever I was in my life at the
greatest affront or provocation. Then I sat an hour
till I was quite dry and cool enough to go swim;
which I did, but with so much vexation, that I think
I have given it over: for I was every moment dis-
turbed by boats, rot them; and that puppy Patrick,
standing ashore, would let them come within a yard
or two, and then call sneakingly to them. The only
comfort I proposed here in hot weather is gone; for
there is no jesting with those boats after 'tis dark:
I had none last night. I dived to dip my head, and
held my cap on with both my hands, for fear of los-
ing it. Pox take the boats! Amen. 'Tis near
twelve, and so I'll answer your letter (it strikes
twelve now) to-morrow morning.
7. Morning.-Well, now let us answer MD's let-
ter, No. 15, 15, 15, 15. Now I have told you the
number 15, 15; there, impudence, to call names in
the beginning of your letter, before you say How
do you do, Mr. Presto ?-There's your breeding.
Where's your manners, sirrah, to a gentleman? Get
you gone, you couple of jades. No, I never sit up
late now: but this abominable hot weather will
force me to eat or drink something that will do me
hurt. I do venture to eat a few strawberries. Why
then, do you know in Ireland that Mr. St. John
talked so in parliament? Your Whigs are plaguily
bit;
for he is entirely for their being all out. And
are you as vicious in snuff as ever? I believe, as
you say, it does neither hurt nor good; but I have
left it off, and when anybody offers me their box
take about a tenth part of what I used to do, and
|
then just smell to it, and privately fling the rest
away. I keep to my tobacco still, as you say; but
even much less of that than formerly, only mornings
and evenings, and very seldom in the day. As for
Joe, I have recommended his case heartily to my
lord-lieutenant; and, by his direction, given a me-
morial of it to Mr. Southwell, to whom I have re-
commended it likewise. I can do no more if he were
my brother. His business will be to apply himself
to Southwell. And you must desire Raymond, if
Price of Galway comes to town, to desire him to
wait on Mr. Southwell as recommended by me for
one of the duke's chaplains, which was all I could
do for him; and he must be presented to the duke,
and make his court, and ply about and find out some
vacancy, and solicit early for it. The bustle about
your mayor I had before, as I told you, from the arch-
bishop of Dublin. Was Raymond not come till May
18? so he says fine things of me? certainly he lies.
I'm sure I used him indifferently enough, and we
never once dined together, or walked, or were in
any third place, only he came sometimes to my lodg-
ings, and even there was oftener denied than admit-
ted. What an odd bill [for 2007.] is that you sent
of Raymond's? a bill upon one Murry in Chester,
which depends entirely not only upon Raymond's
honesty, but his discretion; and in money matters
he is the last man I would depend on. Why should
sir Alexander Cairnes in London pay me a bill,
drawn by God knows who, upon Murry in Chester?
I was at Cairnes's, and they can do no such thing.
I went among some friends, who are merchants, and
I find the bill must be sent to Murry, accepted by
him, and then returned back, and then Cairnes may
accept or refuse it as he pleases. Accordingly I gave
sir Thomas Frankland the bill, who has sent it to
Chester, and ordered the postmaster there to get it
accepted, and then send it back, and in a day or two
I shall have an answer; and therefore this letter
must stay a day or two longer than I intended, and
see what answer I get. Raymond should have
written to Murry at the same time, to desire Alex-
ander Cairnes [an eminent banker] to have answered
such a bill, if it come. But Cairnes's clerks (him-
self was not at home) said that they had received no
notice of it, and could do nothing; and advised me
to send to Murry. I have been six weeks to-day at
Chelsea, and you know it but just now.
And so
dean thinks I write the Medley. Pox of his
judgment; 'tis equal to his honesty. Then you
han't seen the Miscellany yet? Why, 'tis a four-
shilling book: has nobody carried it over? No, I
believe Manley will not lose his place : for his friend
in England is so far from being out, that he has
taken a new patent since the post-office act; and
his brother Jack Manley here takes his part firmly;
and I have often spoken to Southwell in his behalf,
and he seems very well inclined to him. But the
Irish folks here in general are horribly violent against
him. Besides, he must consider he could not send
Stella wine if he were put out.
And so he is very
kind, and sends you a dozen bottles of wine at a
time, and you win eight shillings at a time; and
how much do you lose? No, no, never one syllable
about that, I warrant you. Why this same Stella
is so unmerciful a writer, she has hardly left any room
for Dingley. If you have such summer there as
here, sure the Wexford waters are good by this time.
I forgot what weather we had May 6th; go look in
my journal. We had terrible rain the 24th and
25th, and never a drop since. Yes, yes, I remember
a He does not mean smoking, which he never practised, but
snuffing up cut and dry tobacco, which sometimes was just
coloured with Spanish snuff; and this he used all his life, but
would not own that he took snuff,
o 2
196
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
Berested's bridge; the coach sosses up and down as
one goes that way, just as at Hockley in the Hole.
I never impute any illness or health I have to good
or ill weather, but to want of exercise, or ill air, or
something I have eaten, or hard study, or sitting up;
and so I fence against those as well as I can: but
who a deuce can help the weather? Will Seymor,
the general, was excessively hot with the sun shin-
ing full upon him: so he turns to the sun, and says,
"Hearkee, friend, you had better go and ripen cu-
cumbers than plague me at this rate, &c." Another
time fretting at the heat, a gentleman by said “it
was such weather as pleased God :" Seymor said,
"Perhaps it may; but I'm sure it pleases nobody
else." Why, madam Dingley, the first-fruits are done.
Southwell told me they went to inquire about them,
and lord-treasurer said they were done, and had
been done long ago. And I'll tell you a secret you
must not mention, that the duke of Ormond is or-
dered to take notice of them in his speech to your
parliament: and I desire you will take care to say
on occasion that my lord-treasurer Harley did it
many months ago before the duke was lord-lieute-
nant. And yet I cannot possibly come over yet: so
get you gone to Wexford, and make Stella well.
Yes, yes, I take care not to walk late; I never did
but once, and there are five hundred people on the
way as I walk. Tisdall is a puppy, and I will ex-
cuse him the half-hour he would talk with me. As
for the Examiner, I have heard a whisper, that after
that of this day, which tells what this parliament has
done, you will hardly find them so good. I prophesy
they will be trash for the future; and methinks in
this day's Examiner the author talks doubtfully, as
if he would write no more. Observe whether the
change be discovered in Dublin, only for your own
curiosity, that's all. Make a mouth there.
Mrs.
Vedeau's business I have answered, and I hope the
bill is not lost. Morrow.-'Tis stewing hot, but I
must rise, and go to town between fire and water.
Morrow, sirrahs both, morrow. At night. I dined
to-day with colonel Crowe, governor of Jamaica,
and your friend Sterne. I presented Sterne to my
lord-treasurer's brother, and gave him his case, and
engaged him in his favour. At dinner there fell the
swingingest long shower, and the most grateful to
me that ever I saw: it thundered fifty times at least,
and the air is so cool that a body is able to live; and
I walked home to-night with comfort and without
dirt. I went this evening to lord-treasurer and sat
with him two hours, and we were in a very good
humour, and he abused me and called me Dr. Thomas
Swift fifty times: I have told you he does that when
he has a mind to make me mad. Sir Thomas
Frankland gave me to-day a letter from Murry,
accepting my bill: so all is well: only by a letter
from Parvisol I find there are some perplexities.
Joe has likewise written to me to thank me for what
I have done for him; and desires I would write to
the bishop of Clogher, that Tom Ashe may not hin-
der his father from being portrief. I have written.
and sent to Joe several times, that I will not trouble
myself at all about Trim. I wish them their liberty;
but they do not deserve it: so tell Joe, and send to
him. I am mighty happy with this rain: I was at
the end of my patience, but now I live again. This
cannot go till Saturday, and perhaps I may go out
of town with lord Shelburne and lady Kerry to-
morrow for two or three days. Lady Kerry has
written to desire it; but to-morrow I shall know
farther. O this dear rain, I cannot forbear praising
it: I never felt myself to be revived so in my life.
It lasted from three till five, hard as a horn and
mixed with hail.
8. Morning. I am going to town, and will just finish
this there, if I go into the country with lady Kerry
and lord Shelburne; so morrow, till an hour or two
hence. In town I met Cairnes, who, I suppose, will
pay me the money; though he says I must send him
the bill first, and I will get it done in absence. Fare-
well, &c. &c.
LETTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH.
Chelsea, June 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.
I HAVE been all this time at Wicomb, between Ox-
ford and London, with lord Shelburne, who has
there in a delicious country.
the squire's house at the town's end, and an estate
there in a delicious country. Lady Kerry and Mrs.
enough; and there I wholly disengaged myself from
Pratt were with us, and we passed our time well
all public thoughts, and everything but MD, who
had the impudence to send me a letter there; but
I'll be revenged: I'll answer it.
20th, I came from Wicomb with lady Kerry after
This day, the
dinner, lighted at Hyde-park-corner, and walked:
it was twenty-seven miles, and we came it in about
five hours.
21. I went at noon to see Mr. Secretary at his
office, and there was lord-treasurer: so I killed two
birds, &c., and we were glad to see one another,
and so forth. And the secretary and I dined at sir
William Wyndham's, who married lady Catherine
Seymour, your acquaintance, I
I suppose. There
were ten of us at dinner. It seems in
It seems in my absence
they had erected a club, and made me one; and we
made some laws to-day, which I am to digest, and
add to, against next meeting. Our meetings are to
be every Thursday: we are yet but twelve: lord-
keeper and lord-treasurer were proposed; but I was
against them, and so was Mr. Secretary, though
their sons are of it, and so they are excluded; but
we design to admit the duke of Shrewsbury. The
end of our club is to advance conversation and
friendship, and to reward deserving persons with
our interest and recommendation. We take in none
but men of wit or men of interest; and if we go on
as we begin, no other club in this town will be
worth talking of. The solicitor-general, sir Robert
Raymond, is one of our club; and I ordered him
immediately to write to your lord-chancellor in
favour of Dr. Raymond; so tell Raymond, if you
see him; but I believe this will find you at Wex-
ford. This letter will come three weeks after the
last; so there is a week lost; but that is owing to
my being out of town; yet I think it is right, be-
cause it goes enclosed to Mr. Reading: and why
should he know how often Presto writes to MD,
pray?—I sat this evening with lady Butlera and
lady Ashburnham,b and then came home by eleven,
treme hot weather this fortnight, but a great deal of
and had a good cool walk; for we have had no ex-
rain at times, and a body can live and breathe. I
We had peaches to-day.
hope it will hold so.
22. I went late to-day to town, and dined with
my friend Lewis. I saw Will. Congreve attending
at the treasury, by order, with his brethren, the com-
missioners of the wine-licences. I had often men-
tioned him with kindness to lord-treasurer; and
Congreve told me, that after they had answered to
what they were sent for, my lord called him pri-
vately, and spoke to him with great kindness, pro-
mising his protection, &c. The poor man said he
had been used so ill of late years, that he was
quite astonished at my lord's goodness, &c., and
Daughter to James duke of Ormond. She lived to be above
ninety years of age, and never was married.
» Sister to the above lady. See the Journal of October 20th,
1710.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
137
I
desired me to tell my lord so; which I did this even-
ing, and recommended him heartily. My lord as-
sured me he esteemed him very much, and would
be always kind to him; that what he said was to
make Congreve easy, because he knew people talk-
ed as if his lordship designed to turn everybody
out, and particularly Congreve; which indeed was
true, for the poor man told me he apprehended it.
As I left my lord-treasurer I called on Congreve,
(knowing where he dined,) and told him what had
passed between my lord and me: so I have made a
worthy man easy, and that is a good day's work.
am proposing to my lord to erect a society or aca-
demy for correcting and settling our language, that
we may not perpetually be changing as we do. He
enters mightily into it, so does the dean of Carlisle ;
and I design to write a letter to lord-treasurer with
the proposals of it, and publish it; and so I told
my lord, and he approves of it. Yesterday's was a
sad Examiner, and last week was very indifferent,
though some little scraps of the old spirit, as if he
had given some hints; but yesterday's is all trash.
It is plain the hand is changed.
|
sons.
he will be a commissioner of the customs, and that
in a short time a great many more will be turned
out. They blame lord-treasurer for his slowness in
turning people out; but I suppose he has his rea-
They still keep my neighbour Atterbury in
suspense about the deanery of Christchurch, which
has been above six months vacant, and he is heartily
angry. I reckon you are now preparing for your
Wexford expedition; and poor Dingley is full of
carking, and caring, and scolding. How long will
you stay? Shall I be in Dublin before you return?
Don't fall and hurt yourselves, nor overturn the
coach. Love one another, and be good girls; and
drink Presto's health in water, madam Stella, and in
good ale, madam Dingley.
27. The secretary appointed me to dine with him
to-day, and we were to do a world of business; he
came at four, and brought Prior with him, and had
forgot the appointment, and no business was done.
I left him at eight, and went to change my gown at
Mrs. Vanhomrigh's; and there was sir Andrew
Fountaine at ombre with lady Ashburnham and
lady Frederick Schomberg; and lady Mary Schom-
berg, and lady Betty Butler, and others talking; and
it put me in mind of the dean, and Stoyte, and
Walls, and Stella at play, and Dingley and I looking
on. I stayed with them till ten, like a fool. Lady
Ashburnham is something like Stella; so I helped
her, and wished her good cards. It is late, &c.
28. Well, but I must answer this letter of our
MD's. Saturday approaches, and I han't written
down this side. O faith, Presto has been a sort of
a lazy fellow: but Presto will remove to town this
day se'ennight: the secretary has commanded me to
do so; and I believe he and I shall go for some
days to Windsor, where he will have leisure to mind
some business we have together. To-day our so-
23. I have not been in London to-day; for Dr.
Gastrel and I dined, by invitation, with the dean of
Carlisle, my neighbour; so I know not what they
are doing in the world; a mere country gentleman.
And are not you ashamed both to go into the coun-
try just when I did, and stay ten days just as I did,
saucy monkeys? But I never rode; I had no
horses, and our coach was out of order, and we went
and came in a hired one. Do you keep your lodg-
ings when you go to Wexford? I suppose you do;
for you will hardly stay above two months. I have
been walking about our town to-night, and it is a
very scurvy place for walking. I am thinking to
leave it, and return to town, now the Irish folks are
gone. Ford goes in three days. How does Ding-ciety (it must not be called a club) dined at Mr. Se-
ley divert herself while Stella is riding? work, or
read, or walk? Does Dingley ever read to you? Had
you ever a book with you in the country? Is all
that left off? confess. Well, I'll go sleep; 'tis past
eleven, and I go early to sleep: I write nothing at
night but to MD.
24. Stratford and I, and Pastoral Philips, (just
come from Denmark,) dined at Ford's to-day, who
paid his way, and gocs for Ireland on Tuesday. The
earl of Peterborow is returned from Vienna without
one servant: he left them scattered in several towns
of Germany. I had a letter from him four days ago,
from Hanover, where he desires I would immedi-
ately send him an answer to his house at Parson's-
green, about five miles off. I wondered what he
meant till I heard he was come.
He sent expresses,
and got here before them. He is above fifty, and
as active as one of five-and-twenty. I have not seen
him yet, nor know when I shall, or where to find
him.
25. Poor duke of Shrewsbury has been very ill
of a fever: we were all in a fright about him: I
thank God, he is better. I dined to-day at lord
Ashburnham's with his lady, for he was not at home:
she is a very good girl, and always a great favourite
of mine. Sterne tells me he has desired a friend to
receive your box in Chester, and carry it over. I
fear he will miscarry in his business, which was sent
to the treasury before he was recommended; for I
was positive only to second his recommendations,
and all his other friends failed him. However, on
your account, I will do what I can for him to-mor-
row with the secretary of the treasury.
26. We had much company to-day at dinner at
lord-treasurer's. Prior never fails: he is a much
better courtier than I; and we expect every day that
cretary's; we were but eight, the rest sent excuses
or were out of town. We sat till eight, and made
some laws and settlements; and then I went to
take leave of lady Ashburnham, who goes out of
town to-morrow, as a great many of my acquaintance
are already, and left the town very thin. I shall
make but short journeys this summer, and not be
long out of London. The days are grown sensibly
shorter already, and all our fruit blasted. Your
duke of Ormond is still at Chester; and perhaps
this letter will be with you as soon as he. Sterne's a
business is quite blown up; they stand to it to send
him back to the commissioners of the revenue in
Ireland for a reference, and all my credit could not
alter it, although I almost fell out with the secretary
of the treasury, who is my lord-treasurer's cousin-
german, and my very good friend. It seems every
step he has hitherto taken hath been wrong; at
least they say so, and that is the same thing. I am
heartily sorry for it; and I really think they are in
the wrong, and use him hardly; but I can do no
more.
29. Steele has had the assurance to write to me
that I would engage my lord-treasurer to keep a
friend of his in an employment: I believe I told you
how he and Addison served me for my good offices
in Steele's behalf; and I promised lord-treasurer
never to speak for either of them again. Sir An-
drew Fountaine and I dined to-day at Mrs. Van-
homrigh's. Dilly Ashe has been in town this fort-
night I saw him twice; he was four days at lord
Pembroke's in the country, punning with him; his
face is very well. I was this evening two or three
hours at lord-treasurer's, who called me Dr. Thomas
Swift twenty times; that's his way of teazing. 1
a Collector of Wicklow.
198
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
left him at nine, and got home here by ten, like a
gentleman; and to-morrow morning I'll answer
your letter, sirrahs.
30. Morning.-I am terrible sleepy always in a
morning; I believe it is my walk overnight that
disposes me to sleep; faith 'tis now striking eight,
and I am but just awake. Patrick comes early and
wakes me five or six times, but I have excuses,
though I am three parts asleep. I tell him I sat up
late, or slept ill in the night, and often it is a lie. I
have now got little MD's letter before me, No. 16,
no more, nor no less, no mistake. Dingley says,
"This letter won't be above six lines," and I was
afraid it was true, though I saw it filled on both
sides, The bishop of Clogher writ me word you
were in the country, and that he heard you were
well; I am glad at heart MD rides, and rides, and
rides. Our hot weather ended in May, and all this
month has been moderate: it was then so hot I was
not able to endure it; I was miserable every mo-
ment, and found myself disposed to be peevish and
quarrelsome; I believe a very hot country would
make me stark mad.-Yes, my head continues pretty
tolerable, and I impute it all to walking. Does
Stella eat fruit? I eat a little, but I always repent,
and resolve against it. No, in very hot weather I
always go to town by water, but I constantly walk
back, for then the sun is down. And so Mrs. Proby
goes with you to Wexford; she's admirable com-
pany: you'll grow plaguy wise with those you fre-
quent. Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Proby; take care
of infection. I believe my two hundred pounds
will be paid, but that sir Alexander Cairnes is a
scrupulous puppy: I left the bill with Mr. Stratford,
who is to have the money.-Now, madam Stella,
what say you? you ride every day; I know that
already, sirrah; and if you rid every day for a
twelvemonth, you would be still better and better.
No, I hope Parvisol will not have the impudence to
make you stay an hour for the money; if he does,
I'll unparvisol him; pray let me know. O Lord,
how hasty we are; Stella can't stay writing and
writing; she must write and go a cockhorse, pray
now.
Well, but the horses are not come to the
door; the fellow can't find the bridle; your stirrup
is broken; where did you put the whips, Dingley?
Marg'et, where have you laid Mrs. Johnson's ri-
band to tie about her? reach me my mask; sup up
this before you go. So, so, a gallop, a gallop; sit
fast, sirrah, and don't ride hard upon the stones.
Well, now Stella is gone, tell me, Dingley, is she a
good girl? and what news is that you are to tell
me? No, I believe the box is not lost: Sterne
says it is not.-No, faith, you must go to Wexford
without seeing your duke of Ormond, unless you
stay on purpose; perhaps you may be so wise. I
tell you this is your sixteenth letter; will you never
be satisfied? No, no, I'll walk late no more; I
ought less to venture it than other people, and so I
was told but I'll return to lodge in town next
Thursday. When you come from Wexford, I would
have you send a letter of attorney to Mr. Benjamin
Tooke, bookseller in London, directed to me; and
he shall manage your affair. I have your parch-
I have your parch-
ment safely locked up in London. O madam Stella,
welcome home; was it pleasant riding? did your
horse stumble? how often did the man light to
settle your stirrup? ride nine miles? faith you have
galloped indeed. Well, but where's the fine thing
you promised me? I have been a good boy, ask
Dingley else. I believe you did not meet the fine-
thing-man: faith you are a cheat. So you'll see
Raymond and his wife in town. Faith that riding
to Laracor gives me short sighs as well as you. All
the days I have passed here have been dirt to those.
I have been gaining enemies by the scores, and
friends by the couples, which is against the rules of
wisdom, because they say one enemy can do more
hurt than ten friends can do good. But I have had
my revenge at least, if I get nothing else. And so
let fate govern.- Now I think your letter is an-
swered; and mine will be shorter than ordinary,
because it must go to-day. We have had a great
deal of scattering rain for some days past, yet it
hardly keeps down the dust.-
We have plays
acted in our town, and Patrick was at one of them,
oh, oh. He was damnably mauled one day when
he was drunk; he was at cuffs with a brother foot-
man, who dragged him along the floor upon his
face, which looked for a week after as if he had the
leprosy; and I was glad enough to see it. I have
been ten times sending him over to you; yet now
he has new clothes, and a laced hat which the hatter
brought by his orders, and he offered to pay for the
lace out of his wages. I am to dine to-day with
Dilly at sir Andrew Fountaine's, who has bought a
new house, and will be weary of it in half a year.
I must rise and shave, and walk to town, unless I
go with the dean in his chariot at twelve, which is
too late; and I have not seen that lord Peterborow
yet. The duke of Shrewsbury is almost well again,
|
and will be abroad in a day or two: what care you?
There it is now; you don't care for my friends.
Farewell, my dearest lives and delights, I love you
better than ever, if possible, as hope saved, I do,
and ever will. God Almighty bless you ever, and
make us happy together; I pray for this twice every
day; and I hope God will hear my poor hearty
prayers. Remember, if I am used ill and ungrate-
fully, as I have formerly been, 'tis what I am pre-
am_pre-
pared for, and shall not wonder at it. Yet, I am
now envied, and thought in high favour, and have
every day numbers of considerable men teazing me
to solicit for them. And the ministry all use me
perfectly well, and all that know them say they love
me. Yet I can count upon nothing, nor will, but
upon MD's love and kindness. They think me
useful; they pretended they were afraid of none
but me; and that they resolved to have me; they
have often confessed this: yet all makes little im-
pression on me. Pox of these speculations! they
give me the spleen; and that is a disease I was not
born to.-Let me alone, sirrahs, and be satisfied: I
am, as long as MD and Presto arc, well;
Little wealth, and much health, and a life by stealth;
that is all we want; and so farewell, dearest MD;
Stella, Dingley, Presto, all together, now and for
ever all together. Farewell, again and again.
LETTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH.
Chelsea, June 30, 1711.
SEE what large paper I am forced to take to write
to MD; Patrick has brought me none clipped; but
faith the next shall be smaller. I dined to-day, as
I told you, with Dilly, at sir Andrew Fountaine's:
there were we wretchedly punning and writing to-
gether to lord Pembroke. Dilly is just such a puppy
as ever; and it is so uncouth, after so long an inter-
mission. My 25th is gone this evening to the post.
I think I will direct my next (which is this) to Mr.
Curry's, and let them send it to Wexford, and then
the next enclosed to Reading. Instruct me how I
shall do. I long to hear from you from Wexford,
and what sort of place it is. The town grows very
empty and dull. This evening I have had a letter
from Mr. Philips the pastoral poet, to get him a
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
199
certain employment from lord-treasurer. I have
now had almost all the Whig poets my solicitors;
and I have been useful to Congreve, Steele, and
Harrison; but I will do nothing for Philips; I find
he is more a puppy than ever, so don't solicit for
him. Besides, I will not trouble lord-treasurer,
unless upon some very extraordinary occasion.
July 1. Dilly lies conveniently for me when I
come to town from Chelsea of a Sunday, and go to
the secretary's; so I called at his lodgings this
morning, and sent for my gown, and dressed myself
there. He had a letter from the bishop, with an
account that you were set out for Wexford the
morning he writ, which was June 26th, and he had
the letter the 30th; that was very quick. The
bishop says you design to stay there two months or
more. Dilly had also a letter from Tom Ashe, full
of Irish news: that your lady Linden is dead, and I
know not what besides, of Dr. Coghilla losing his
drab, &c. The secretary is gone to Windsor, and I
dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh. Lord-treasurer is at
Windsor too they will be going and coming all
summer, while the queen is there and the town is
empty; and I fear I shall be sometimes forced to
stoop beneath my dignity, and send to the alehouse
for a dinner. Well, sirrahs, had you a good journey
to Wexford? Did you drink ale by the way? were
you never overturned? how many things did you
forget? do you lie on straw in your new town where
you are? Cudsho, the next letter to Presto will be
dated from Wexford. What fine company have you
there? what new acquaintance have you got? you
are to write constantly to Mrs. Walls and Mrs.
Stoyte and the dean said shall we never hear from
you? Yes, Mr. Dean, we'll make bold to trouble
you with a letter. Then at Wexford; when you
meet a lady; Did your waters pass well this morn-
ing, madam? Will Dingley drink them too? Yes,
I warrant, to get her a stomach. I suppose you are
all gamesters at Wexford. Don't lose your money,
sirrah, far from home. I believe I shall go to Wind-
sor in a few days; at least the secretary tells me so.
He has a small house there, with just room enough
for him and me; and I would be satisfied to pass a
few days there sometimes. Sirrahs, let me go to
sleep 'till past twelve in our town.
2. Sterne came to me this morning, and tells me
he has yet some hopes of compassing his business:
he was with Tom Harley, the secretary of the trea-
sury, and made him doubt a little he was in the
wrong; the poor man tells me it will almost undo
him if he fails. I called this morning to see Will.
Congreve, who lives much by himself, is forced
to read for amusement, and cannot do it without a
magnifying glass. I have set him very well with
the ministry, and I hope he is in no danger of losing
his place. I dined in the city with Dr. Freind, not
among my merchants, but with a scrub instrument
of mischief of mine, whom I never mentioned to
you, nor am like to do. You are two little saucy
Wexfordians, you are now drinking waters. You
drink waters! you go fiddlestick. Pray God send
them to do you good; if not, faith next summer you
shall come to the Bath.
3. Lord Peterborow desired to see me this morn-
ing at nine. I had not seen him before since he
came home. I met Mrs. Manley there, who was
soliciting him to get some pension or reward for her
service in the cause, by writing her Atalantis, and
prosecution, &c., upon it. I seconded her, and hope
they will do something for the poor woman. My
lord kept me two hours upon politics: he comes
a Dr. Marmaduke Coghill, judge of the prerogative court
for Ireland.
home very sanguine; he has certainly done great
things at Savoy and Vienna by his negotiations; he
is violent against a peace, and finds true what I writ
to him, that the ministry seems for it. He reasons
well; yet I am for a peace. I took leave of lady
Kerry, who goes to-morrow for Ireland; she picks
up lord Shelburne and Mrs. Pratt at lord Shelburne's
house. I was this evening with lord-treasurer.
Tom Harley was there; and whispered me that
he began to doubt about Sterne's business. I told
him he would find he was in the wrong. I sat
two or three hours at lord-treasurer's. He rallied
me sufficiently upon my refusing to take him
into our club; told a judge who was with us that
my name was Thomas Swift. I had a mind to pre-
vent sir H. Bellasis going to Spain, who is a most
covetous cur; and I fell a railing against avarice,
and turned it so, that he smoked me, and named
Bellasis. I went on, and said it was a shame to send
him; to which he agreed, but desired I would name
some who understood business and do not love
money, for he could not find them. I said there was
something in a treasurer different from other men;
that we ought not to make a man a bishop who does
not love divinity, or a general who does not love war;
and I wondered why the queen would make a man
lord-treasurer who does not love money. He was
mightily pleased with what I said. He was talking
of the first-fruits of England; and I took occasion
to tell him that I would not for a thousand pounds
anybody but he had got them to Ireland, who got
them for England too. He bid me consider what a
thousand pounds was. I said I would have him to
know I valued a thousand pounds as little as he
valued a million.-Is it not silly to write all this? But
it gives you an idea what our conversation is with
mixed company. I have taken a lodging in Suffolk-
street, and go to it on Thursday; and design to
walk the park and the town, to supply my walking
here: yet I will walk here sometimes too, in a visit
now and then to the dean. When I was almost at
home Patrick told me he had two letters for me,
and gave them to me in the dark; yet I could see
one of them was from saucy MD. I went to visit
the dean for half an hour; and then came home, and
first read the other letter, which was from the bishop
of Clogher, who tells me the archbishop of Dublin
mentioned, in a full assembly of the clergy, the
queen's granting the first-fruits; said it was done by
the lord-treasurer; and talked much of my merit in
it but reading yours, I find nothing of that. Perhaps
the bishop lies, out of a desire to please me. I dined
with Mrs. Vanhomrigh. Well, sirrahs, you are
gone to Wexford, but I'll follow you.
:
4. Sterne came to me again this morning, to advise
about reasons and memorials he is drawing up; and
we went to town by water together; and having no-
thing to do, I stole into the city to an instrument of
mine, and then went to see poor Patty Rolt, who has
been in town these two months with a cousin of hers.
Her life passes with boarding in some country town
as cheap as she can, and when she runs out, shifting
to some cheaper place, or coming to town for a
month. If I were rich I would ease her, which a
little thing would do. Some months ago I sent her
a guinea, and it patched up twenty circumstances.
She is now going to Berkhamstead, in Hertfordshire.
It has rained and hailed prodigiously to-day, with
some thunder. This is the last night I lie at Chelsea;
and I got home early, and sat two hours with the
dean, and eat victuals, having had a very scurvy
dinner. I'll answer your letter when I come to live
in town. You shall have a fine London answer:
but first I'll go sleep, and dream of MD.
200
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
London, July 5. This day I left Chelsea for good
(that's a genteel plirasc), and am got into Suffolk-
street. I dined to-day at our society, and we are
adjourned for a month, because most of us go into
the country. We dined at lord-keeper's with young
Harcourt, and lord-keeper was forced to sneak off,
and dine with lord-treasurer, who had invited the
secretary and me to dine with him; but we scorned
to leave our company, as George Granville did, whom
we have threatened to expel. However, in the even-
ing I went to lord-treasurer, and among other com-
pany found a couple of judges with him. One of
them, judge Powel, an old fellow with grey hairs,
was the merriest old gentleman I ever saw, spoke
pleasant things, and laughed and chuckled till he cried
again. I stayed till eleven, because I was not now
to walk to Chelsea.
6. An ugly rainy day. I was to visit Mrs. Barton,
then called at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, where sir Andrew
Fountaine and the rain kept me to dinner; and
there did I loiter all the afternoon, like a fool, out
of perfect laziness, and the weather not permitting
me to walk. But I'll do so no more.
Are your
waters at Wexford good in this rain? I long to hear
how you are established there, how and whom you
visit, what is your lodging, what are your entertain-
ments. You are got far southward; but I think you
must eat no fruit while you drink the waters. I ate
some Kentish cherries t'other day, and I repent it
already. I have felt my head a little disordered.
We had not a hot day all June, nor since, which I
reckon a mighty happiness.-Have you left a direc-
tion with Reading for Wexford? I will, as I said,
direct this to Curry's, and the next to Reading; or
suppose I send this at a venture straight to Wexford?
It would vex me to have it miscarry. I had a letter
to-night from Parvisol, that White has paid me most
of my remaining money; and another from Joc,
that they have had their election at Trim, but not a
word of who is chosen portrieve. Poor Joe is full of
complaints, says he has cuemies, and fears he will
never get his two hundred pounds; and I fear so too,
although I have done what I could. I'll answer
your letter when I think fit, when saucy Presto
thinks fit, sirrahs. I an't at leisure yet; when I
have nothing to do, perhaps I may vouchsafe. O Lord,
the two Wexford ladies; I'll go dream of you both.
I
7. It was the dismallest rainy day I ever saw.
went to the secretary in the morning, and he was
gone to Windsor. Then it began raining, and I
struck in to Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, and dined, and
stayed till night, very dull and insipid. I hate this
town in summer; I'll leave it for a while, if I can
have time.
8. I have a fellow of your town, one Tisdall, lodges
in the same house with me. Patrick told me squire
Tisdall and his lady lodged here. I pretended I never
heard of him; but I knew his ugly face, and saw
him at church in the next pew to me; and he often
looked for a bow, but it would not do. I think he
lives in Capel-street, and has an ugly fine wife in a
fine coach. Dr. Freind and I dined in the city by
invitation, and I drank punch, very good, but it
makes me hot. People here are troubled with agues,
by this continuance of wet cold weather; but I am
glad to find the season so temperate. I was this
evening to see Will. Congreve, who is a very agree-
able companion.
9. I was to-day in the city, and dined with Mr.
Stratford, who tells me sir Alexander Cairnes makes
difficulties about paying my bill, so that I cannot
give order yet to Parvisol to deliver up the bond to
Dr. Raymond. To-inorrow I shall have a positive
answer: that Cairnes is a shuffling scoundrel, and
|
|
What can one
several merchants have told me so.
expect from a Scot and a fanatic? I was at Bateman's,
the bookseller's, to see a fine old library he has
bought; and my fingers itched, as yours would do
at a china-shop; but I resisted, and found every-
thing too dear, and I have fooled away too much
money that way already. So go and drink your
waters, saucy rogue, and make yourself well; and
pray walk while you are there. I have a notion
there is never a good walk in Ireland.a Do yo find
all places without trees? Pray observe the inhabit-
ants about Wexford; they are old English; see what
they have particular in their manners, names, and
language. Magpies have been always there, and no-
where else in Ireland, till of late years. They say
the cocks and dogs go to sleep at noon, and so do
the people. Write your travels, and bring home good
eyes and health.
10. I dined to-day with lord-treasurer; we did
not sit down till four. I despatched three businesses
with him and forgot a fourth. I think I have got a
friend an employment; and besides, I made him
consent to let me bring Congreve to dine with him.
You must understand I have a mind to do a small
thing, only turn out all the queen's physicians, for in
my conscience they will soon kill her among them;
and I must talk over that matter with some people.
My lord-treasurer told me the queen and he be-
tween them have lost the paper about the first-fruits ;
but desires I will let the bishops know it shall be
done with the first opportunity.
I am
11. I dined to-day with neighbour Van, and
walked pretty well in the park this evening.-Stella,
hussy, don't you remember, sirrah, you used to re-
proach me about meddling in other folks' affairs. I、
have enough of it now: two people came to me to-
night in the park, to engage me to speak to lord-
treasurer in their behalf; and I believe they make
up fifty who have asked me the same favour.
hardened, and resolved to trouble him, or any other
minister, less than ever. And I observe those who
have ten times more credit than I will not speak a
word for anybody. I met yesterday the poor lad I
told you of, who lived with Mr. Tenison, who has
been ill of an ague ever since I saw him. He looked
wretchedly, and was exceeding thankful for half-a-
crown I gave him. He had a crown from me before.
12. I dined to day with young Manley in the city,
who is to get me out a box of books, and a hamper
of wine from Hamburgh. I inquired of Mr. Strat-
ford, who tells me that Cairnes has not yet paid my
two hundred pounds, but shams and delays from day
to day. Young Manley's wife is a very indifferent
person of a young woman, goggle-eyed and looks
like a fool: yet he is a handsome fellow, and married
her for love, after long courtship, and she refused
him until he got his last employment. I believe I shall
not be so good a boy for writing as I was during your
stay at Wexford, unless I may send my letters every
second time to Curry's; pray let me know. This
I think shall go there, or why not to Wexford itself?
that's right, and so it shall this next Tuesday, al-
though it cost you tenpence. What care I?
13. This toad of a secretary is come from Windsor,
and I can't find him; and he goes back on Sunday,
and I can't see him to-morrow. I dined scurvily
to-day with Mr. Lewis and a parson; and then went
to see lord-treasurer, and met him coming from his
house in his coach: he smiled, and I shrugged, and
we smoked each other; and so my visit is paid. I
now confine nyself to see him only twice a-week.
He has invited me to Windsor, and between two
a In Ireland there were at that period no foot-paths as in
England.
نگیر
201
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
stools, &c. I'll go live at Windsor, if possible, that's
poz. I have always the luck to pass my summer in
London. I called this evening to see poor sir Mat-
thew Dudley, a commissioner of the customs; I
know he is to be out for certain: he is in hopes of
continuing. I would not tell him bad news, but
advised him to prepare for the worst. Dilly was
with me this morning, to invite me to dine at
Kensington on Sunday with lord Mountjoy, who goes
soon for Ireland. Your late chief-justice Broderick
is here, and they say violent as a tiger. How is
party among you at Wexford? Are the majority of
ladies for the late or present ministry? Write me
Wexford news, and love Presto because he's a good
boy.
14. Although it was shaving-day I walked to
Chelsea, and was there by nine this morning; and
the dean of Carlisle and I crossed the water to Bat-
tersea, and went in his chariot to Greenwich, where
we dined at Dr. Gastrel's, and passed the afternoon
at Lewisham, at the dean of Canterbury's;a and
there I saw Moll Stanhope, who is grown mon-
strously tall, but not so handsome as formerly. It
is the first little rambling journey I have had this
summer about London, and they are the agreeablest
pastimes one can have, in a friend's coach, and to
good company. Bank stock is fallen three or four
per cent. by the whispers about the town of the
queen's being ill, who is however very well.
15. How many books have you carried with you
to Wexford? What, not one single book? Oh, but
your time will be so taken up; and you can borrow
of the parson. I dined to-day with sir Andrew
Fountaine and Dilly, at Kensington, with lord
'Mountjoy; and in the afternoon Stratford came
there, and told me my two hundred pounds was
paid at last; so that business is over, and I am at
ease about it and I wish all your money was in the
bank too. I'll have my t'other hundred pounds
there that is in Hawkshaw's hands. Have you had
the interest of it paid yet? I ordered Parvisol to do
it. What makes Presto write so crooked? I'll an-
swer your letter to-morrow, and send it on Tuesday.
Here's hot weather come again yesterday and to-
day; fine drinking waters now. We had a sad pert
dull parson at Kensington to-day. I almost repent
my coming to town: I want the walks I had.
16. I dined in the city to-day with a hedge ac-
quaintance, and the day passed without any conse-
quence. I'll answer your letter to-morrow.
17. Morning.-I have put your letter before me,
and am going to answer it. Hold your tongue :
stand by. Your weather and ours were not alike;
we had not a bit of hot weather in June, yet
you complain of it on the 19th day. What, you
used to love hot weather then? I could never endure
it; I detest and abominate it. I would not live in
a hot country to be king of it. What a splutter you
keep about my bonds with Raymond, and all to af-
front Presto. Presto will be suspicious of everything
but MD, in spite of your little nose. Soft and fair,
madam Stella, how you gallop away in your spleen
and your rage about repenting my journey, and pre-
ferment here, and sixpence a dozen, and nasty Eng-
land, and Laracor all my life. Hey dazy! will you
never have done? I had no offers of any living.
Lord-keeper told me some months ago he would
give me one when I pleased; but I told him I would
not take any from him: and the secretary told me
t'other day he had refused a very good one for me;
but it was in a place he did not like; and I know
nothing of getting anything here, and, if they would
give me leave, I would come over just now.
a Dr. Stanhope, the celebrated vicar of Lewisham.
Addi-
:
son, I hear, has changed his mind about going over;
but I have not seen him these four months. O, ay,
that's true, Dingley! that's like herself: millions of
businesses to do before she goes. Yes, my head has
been pretty well, but threatening within these two
or three days, which I impute to some fruit I ate ;
but I will eat no more: not a bit of any sort.
I sup-
pose you had a journey without dust, and that was
happy. I long for a Wexford letter; but must not
think of it yet. Your last was finished but three
weeks ago.
It is d-d news you tell me of Mrs.
F; it makes me love England less a great deal.
I know nothing of the trunk being left or taken; so
'tis odd enough, if the things in it were mine; and
I think I was told that there were some things for
me that my mother left particularly to me.
I am
really sorry for ; that scoundrel will have
his estate after his mother's death. Let me know
if Mrs. Walls has got her tea: I hope Richardson
stayed in Dublin till it came. Mrs. Walls needed
not have that blemish in her eye, for I am not in love
with her at all. No, I don't like anything in the
Examiner after the 45th, except the first part of the
46th; all the rest is trash; and if you like them,
especially the 47th, your judgment is spoiled by ill
company and want of reading; which I am more
sorry for than you think and I have spent fourteen
years in improving you to little purpose. (Mr.
Tooke is come here, and I must stop). At night.-
I dined with lord-treasurer to-day, and he kept me
till nine; so I cannot send this to-night, as I in-
tended, nor write some other letters. Green, his
surgeon, was there, and dressed his breast-that is,
put on a plaster, which is still requisite; and I took
an opportunity to speak to him of the queen; but he
cut me short with this saying: Laissez faire à don An-
toine; which is a French proverb, expressing, Leave
that to me. I find he is against her taking much
physic; and I doubt he cannot persuade her to take
Dr. Radcliffe. However, she is very well now, and
all the story of her illness, except the first day or two,
was a lie.
We had some business, that company
hindered us from doing, though he is earnest for
it, yet would not appoint me a certain day, but bids
me come at all times till we can have leisure. This
takes up a great deal of my time, and I can do nothing
I would do for them. I was with the secretary this
morning, and we both think to go next week to
Windsor for some days, to despatch an affair, if we
can have leisure. Sterne met me just now in the
street by his lodgings, and I went in for an hour to
Jemmy Leigh, who loves London dearly: he asked
after you with great respect and friendship. To re-
turn to your letter. Your bishop Millsa hates me
mortally: I wonder he should speak well of me,
having abused me in all places where he went.
you pay your way. Cudsho! you had a fine supper,
I warrant; two pullets, and a bottle of wine, and
some currants. It is just three weeks to-day since
you set out to Wexford; you were three days going,
and I don't expect a letter these ten days yet, or
rather this fortnight. I got a grant of the Gazette
for Ben Tooke this morning from Mr. Secretary:
it will be worth to him a hundred pounds a-year.
So
18. To-day I took leave of Mrs. Barton, who is
going into the country; and I dined with sir John
Stanley, where I have not been this great while.-
There dined with us lord Rochester, and his fine
daughter lady Jane, just growing up a top toast.
I have been endeavouring to save sir Matthew Dud-
bey, but I fear I cannot. I walked the Mall six
The bishop of Waterford.
b Lady Jane Hydo was married Nov. 27, 1718, to William
Capel, earl of Essex, and died Jan. 3, 1723-4.
202
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
times to-night for exercise, and would have done
more; but, as empty as the town is, a fool got hold
of me, and so I came home, to tell you this shall go
to-morrow, without fail, and follow you to Wexford
like a dog.
19. Dean Atterbury sent to me to dine with him
at Chelsea; I refused his coach, and walked, and
am come back by seven, because I would finish this
letter, and some others I am writing. Patrick tells
me the maid said one Mr. Walls, a clergyman, a tall
man, was here to visit me. Is it your Irish arch-
deacon? I shall be sorry for it; but I shall make a
shift to see him seldom enough, as I do Dilly.-
What can he do here? or is it somebody else? The
duke of Newcastle is dead by the fall he had from
his horse. God send poor Stella her health, and
keep MD happy. Farewell, and love Presto, who
loves MD above all things ten million of times.
God bless the dear Wexford girls. Farewell again,
&c. &c.
LETTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.
London, July 19, 1711.
I HAVE just sent my 26th, and have nothing to say,
because I have other letters to write (pshaw, I be-
gin too high); but I must lay the beginning like a
nest-egg; to-morrow I'll say more, and fetch up this
line to be straight. This is enough at present for
two dear saucy naughty girls.
20. Have I told you that Walls has been with me,
and leaves the town in three days? He has brought
no gown with him. Dilly carried him to a play.
He has come upon a foolish errand, and goes back
as he comes. I was this day with lord Peterborow,
who is going another ramble: I believe I told you
so. I dined with lord-treasurer, but cannot get
him to do his own business with me; he has put me
off till to-morrow.
21, 22. I dined yesterday with lord-treasurer, who
would needs take me along with him to Windsor,
although I refused him several times, having no
linen, &c. I had just time to desire lord Forbes to
call at my lodging, and order my man to send my
things to-day to Windsor, by his servant. I lay last
night at the secretary's lodgings at Windsor, and bor-
rowed one of his shirts to go to court in. The queen
is very well.
I dined with Mr. Masham; and not
hearing anything of my things, I got lord Winchel-
sea to bring me to town. Here I found that Patrick
had broke open the closet to get my linen and night-
gown, and sent them to Windsor, and there they
are; and he, not thinking I would return so soon,
is gone upon his rambles: so here I am left destitute,
and forced to borrow a nightgown of my landlady,
and have not a rag to put on to-morrow; faith it
gives me the spleen.
23. Morning. It is a terrible rainy day, and rained
prodigiously on Saturday night. Patrick lay out
last night, and is not yet returned; faith, poor
Presto is a desolate creature; neither servant nor
linen, nor anything. Night.-Lord Forbes's man
has brought back my portmanteau, and Patrick is
come; so I am in christian circumstances: I shall
hardly commit such a frolic again. I just crept out
to Mrs. Van's, and dined, and stayed there the after-
noon: it has rained all this day. Windsor is a deli-
cious place: I never saw it before except for an hour
about seventeen years ago.
Walls has been here in
my absence, I suppose to take his leave; for he de-
signed not to stay above five days in London. He
says, he and his wife will come here for some months
next year; aud, in short, he dares not stay now for
fear of her.
24. I dined to-day with a hedge friend in the city;
and Walls overtook me in the street, and told me
He
he was just getting on horseback for Chester.
has as much curiosity as a cow: he lodged with his
horse in Aldersgate-street: he has bought his wife
and himself a hat. And what are you
a silk gown, and himself a hat.
doing? what is poor MD doing now? how do you
pass your time at Wexford? how do the waters
agree with you? let Presto know soon, for Presto
longs to know, and must know. Is not madam
Proby curious company? I am afraid this rainy
weather will spoil your waters. We have had a
Tell me all the
great deal of wet these three days.
particulars of Wexford; the place, the company, the
diversions, the victuals, the wants, the vexations.
Poor Dingley never saw such a place in her life;
sent all over the town for a little parsley to a boiled
chicken, and it was not to be had: the butter is
stark naught, except an old English woman's; and
it is such a favour to get a pound from her now and
then. I am glad you carried down your sheets with
you, else you must have lain in sackcloth. O Lord!
25. I was this afternoon with Mr. Secretary at his
office, and helped to hinder a man of his pardon
who is condemned for a rape. The under-secretary
was willing to save him, upon an old notion that a
woman cannot be ravished; but I told the secretary
he could not pardon him without a favourable report
from the judge. Besides, he was a fiddler, and con-
sequently a rogue, and deserved hanging for some-
thing else; and so he shall swing. What! I must
stand up for the honour of the fair sex? 'Tis true,
the fellow had lain with her a hundred times before;
but what care I for that? What! must a woman be
ravished because she is a whore? The secretary and
I go on Saturday to Windsor for a week. I dined
with lord-treasurer, and stayed with him till past ten.
I was to-day at his levee, where I went against my
custom, because I had a mind to do a good office for
a gentleman: so I talked with him before my lord,
that he might see me, and then found occasion to
recommend him this afternoon. I was forced to
excuse my coming to the levee, that I did it to see
the sight; for he was going to chide me away: I had
never been there before but once, and that was long
before he was treasurer. The rooms were all full,
and as many Whigs as Tories. He whispered me
a jest or two, and bid me come to dinner. I left
him but just now, and 'tis late.
26. Mr. Addison and I have at last met again. I
dined with him and Steele to-day at young Jacob
Tonson's. The two Jacobs think it is I who have
made the secretary take from them the printing of
the Gazette, which they are going to lose, and Ben
Tooke and another are to have it. Jacob came to
me t'other day to make his court; but I told him it
was too late, and that it was not my doing. I reckon
they will lose it in a week or two. Mr. Addison
and I talked as usual, and as if we had seen one
another yesterday; and Steele and I were very easy,
though I writ him a biting letter in answer to onc
of his, where he desired me to recommend a friend
of his to lord-treasurer. Go, get you gone to your
waters, sirrah. Do they give you a stomach? Do
you eat heartily?-We had much rain to-day and
yesterday.
27. I dined to-day in the city, and saw poor Patty
Rolt, and gave her a pistole to help her a little for-
ward against she goes to board in the country. She
has but eighteen pounds a year to live on, and is
forced to seek out for cheap places. Sometimes
they raise their price, and sometimes they starve
her, and then she is forced to shift. Patrick, the
puppy, put too much ink in my standish, and carry-
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
203
ing too many things together, I spilled it on my
paper and floor. The town is dull, and wet, and
empty: Wexford is worth two of it; I hope so at
least, and that little MD finds it so. I reckon upon
going to Windsor to-morrow with Mr. Secretary,
unless he changes his mind, or some other business
prevents him. I shall stay there a week I hope.
28. Morning.-Mr. Secretary sent me word he will
call at my lodgings by two this afternoon, to take
me to Windsor, so I must dine nowhere; and I
promised lord-treasurer to dine with him to-day;
but I suppose we shall dine at Windsor at five, for
we make but three hours there. I am going abroad,
but have left Patrick to put up my things, and to be
sure to be at home half an hour before two. Wind-
sor, at night.-We did not leave London till three,
and dined here between six and seven; at nine I
left the company, and went to see lord-treasurer,
who is just come.
I chid him for coming so late;
he chid me for not dining with him; said he stayed
an hour for me. Then I went and sat an hour with
Mr. Lewis till just now, and 'tis past eleven. I lie
in the same house with the secretary, one of the
prebendary's houses. The secretary is not come
from his apartment in the castle. Do you think
that abominable dog Patrick was out after two to-
day, and I in a fright every moment for fear the
chariot should come; and when he came in he had
not put up one rag of my things: I never was in a
greater passion, and would certainly have cropped
one of his ears, if I had not looked every moment
for the secretary, who sent his equipage to my
lodging before, and came in a chair from Whitehall
to me, and happened to stay half an hour later than
he intended. One of lord-treasurer's servants gave
me a letter from *****, with an offer of fifty pounds
to be paid me in what manner I pleased; because,
he said, he desired to be well with me. I was in a
rage but my friend Lewis cooled me, and said it
is what the best men sometimes meet with; and I
have been not seldom served in the like manner,
although not so grossly. In these cases I never
demur a moment; nor ever found the least inclina-
tion to take anything. Well, I'll go try to sleep in
my new bed, and to dream of poor Wexford MD,
and Stella that drinks water, and Dingley that
drinks ale.
29. I was at court and church to-day, as I was
this day se'ennight. I generally am acquainted with
about thirty in the drawing-room, and am so proud
I make all the lords come up to me; one passes
half an hour pleasant enough. We had a dunce to
preach before the queen to-day, which often hap-
pens. Windsor is a delicious situation, but the
town is scoundrel. I have this morning got the
Gazette for Ben Tooke and one Barber a printer;
it will be about three hundred pounds a year be-
tween them. T'other fellow was printer of the
Examiner, which is now laid down. I dined with
the secretary: we were a dozen in all, three Scotch
lords, and lord Peterborow. Duke Hamilton would
needs be witty, and hold up my train as I walked
up stairs. It is an ill circumstance that on Sun-
days much company meet always at the great tables.
Lord-treasurer told at court what I said to Mr.
Secretary on this occasion. The secretary showed
me his bill of fare, to encourage me to dine with
him. Poh, said I, show me a bill of company, for
I value not your dinner. See how this is all blotted
I can write no more here, but to tell you I love MD
dearly, and God bless them.
;
30. In my conscience I fear I shall have the gout.
I sometimes feel pains about my feet and toes; I
never drank till within these two years, and I did it
|
to cure my head. I often sit evenings with some of
these people, and drink in my turn; but I am now
resolved to drink ten times less than before; but
they advise me to let what I drink be all wine, and
not to put water to it. Tooke and the printer
stayed to-day to finish their affair, and treated me
and two of the under-secretaries, upon their getting
the Gazette. Then I went to see lord-treasurer,
and chid him for not taking notice of me at Wind-
sor: he said he kept a place for me yesterday at
dinner, and expected me there; but I was glad I
did not come, because the duke of Buckingham was
there, and that would have made us acquainted,
which I have no mind to. However, we appointed
to sup at Mr. Masham's, and there stayed till past
one o'clock; and that is late, sirrahs and I have
much business.
31. I have sent a noble haunch of venison this
afternoon to Mrs. Vanhomrigh: I wish you had it,
sirrahs: I dined gravely with my landlord the secre-
tary.
tary. The queen was abroad to-day in order to
hunt, but finding it disposed to rain, she kept in her
coach: she hunts in a chaise with one horse, which
she drives herself, and drives furiously, like Jehu,
and is a mighty hunter, like Nimrod. Dingley has
heard of Nimrod, but not Stella, for it is in the
Bible. I was to-day at Eton, which is but just
cross the bridge, to see my lord Kerry's son, who is
at school there. Mr. Secretary has given me a war-
rant for a buck; I can't send it to MD. It is a sad
thing, faith, considering how Presto loves MD, and
how MD would love Presto's venison for Presto's
sake. God bless the two dear Wexford girls.
Aug. 1. We had for dinner the fellow of that
haunch of venison I sent to London; 'twas mighty
fat and good, and eight people at dinner; that was
bad. The queen and I were going to take the air
this afternoon, but not together; and were both
hindered by a sudden rain. Her coaches and chaises
all went back, and the guards too and I scoured
into the market-place for shelter. I intended to
have walked up the finest avenue I ever saw, two
miles long, with two rows of elms on each side. I
walked in the evening a little upon the terrace, and
came home at eight: Mr. Secretary came soon after,
and we were engaging in deep discourse, and I was
endeavouring to settle some points of the greatest
consequence; and had wormed myself pretty well
into him, when his under-secretary came in (who
lodges in the same house with us) and interrupted
all my scheme.
scheme. I have just left him; 'tis late, &c.
2. I have been now five days at Windsor, and
Patrick has been drunk three times that I have seen,
and oftener I believe. He has lately had clothes.
that have cost me five pounds, and the dog thinks
he has the whip hand of me; he begins to master
me; so now I am resolved to part with him, and
will use him without the least pity. The secretary
and I have been walking three or four hours to-day.
The duchess of Shrewsbury asked him, was not that
Dr.-Dr., and she could not say my name in English,
but said Dr. Presto, which is Italian for swift.
Whimsical enough, as Billy Swift says. I go to-
morrow with the secretary to his house at Buckle-
berry, twenty-five miles from hence, and return
early on Sunday morning. I will leave this letter
behind me locked up, and give you an account of
my journey when I return. I had a letter yesterday
from the bishop of Clogher, who is coming up to
Dublin to his parliament. Have you any corre-
spondence with him at Wexford? Methinks I now
long for a letter from you, dated Wexford, July 24,
&c. O Lord, that would be so pretending; and
then, says you, Stella can't write much, because it
204
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
is bad to write when one drinks the waters; and I
think, says you, I find myself better already, but I
cannot tell yet whether it be the journey or the
waters. Presto is so silly to-night; yes, he be; but
Presto loves MD dearly, as hope saved.
3. Morning.-I am to go this day at noon, as I
told you, to Buckleberry; we dine at twelve, and
expect to be there in four hours; I cannot bid you
good night now, because I shall be twenty-five miles
from this paper to-night, and so my journal must
have a break; so good morrow, &c.
His
4, 5. I dined yesterday at Buckleberry, where we
lay two nights, and set out this morning at eight,
and were here at twelve; in four hours we went
twenty-six miles. Mr. Secretary was a perfect coun-
try gentleman at Buckleberry; he smoked tobacco
with one or two neighbours; he inquired after the
wheat in such a field; he went to visit his hounds,
and knew all their names; he and his lady saw me
to my chamber just in the country fashion.
house is in the midst of near three thousand pounds.
a-year he had by his lady, who is descended from
Jack of Newbury, of whom books and ballads are
written; and there is an old picture of him in the
house. She is a great favourite of mine. I lost
church to-day; but I dressed, and shaved, and went
to court, and would not dine with the secretary, but
engaged myself to a private dinner with Mr. Lewis,
and one friend more. We go to London to-mor-
row; for lord Dartmouth, the other secretary, is
come, and they are here their weeks by turns.
6. Lord-treasurer comes every Saturday to Wind-
sor, and goes away on Monday or Tuesday. I was
I was
with him this morning at his levee, for one cannot
see him otherwise here, he is so hurried: we had
some talk, and I told him I would stay this week at
Windsor by myself, where I can have more leisure
to do some business that concerns them. Lord-
treasurer and the secretary thought to mortify me;
for they told me they had been talking a great deal
of me to-day to the queen, and she said she had
never heard of me. I told them that was their fault,
and not hers, &c., and so we laughed. I dined
I dined
with the secretary, and let him go to London at five
without me; and here am I all alone in the pre-
bendary's house, which Mr. Secretary has taken;
only Mr. Lewis is in my neighbourhood, and we
shall be good company. The vice-chamberlain [Mr.
Coke], and Mr. Masham, and the green cloth, have
promised me dinners. I shall want but four till
Mr. Secretary returns. We have a music meeting
in our town to-night. I went to the rehearsal of it,
and there was Margarita and her sister, and another
drab, and a parcel of fiddlers; I was weary, and
would not go to the meeting, which I am sorry for,
because I heard it was a great assembly. Mr. Lewis
came from it, and sat with me till just now: and
'tis late.
7. I can do no business I fear, because Mr.
Lewis, who has nothing or little to do here, sticks
close to me. I dined to-day with the gentlernen
ushers, among scurvy company; but the queen was
hunting the stag till four this afternoon, and she
drove in her chaise above forty miles, and it was five
before we went to dinner. Here are fine walks
about this town. I sometimes walk up the avenue.
8. There was a drawing-room to-day at court,
but so few company, that the queen sent for us into
her bedchamber, where we made our bows, and
stood about twenty of us round the room, while she
looked at us round with her fan in her mouth, and
once a minute said about three words to some that
were nearest her, and then she was told dinner was
ready, and went out. I dined at the green cloth,
by Mr. Scarborow's invitation, who is in waiting.
It is much the best table in England, and costs the
queen a thousand pounds a month while she is at
Windsor or Hampton Court; and is the only mark
of magnificence or hospitality I can see in the
queen's family: it is designed to entertain foreign
ministers, and people of quality, who come to see
the queen, and have no place to dine at.
9. Mr. Coke made me a long visit this morning,
and invited me to dinner, but the toast, his lady,
was unfortunately engaged to lady Sunderland.
Lord-treasurer stole here last night, but did not lie
in his lodgings in the castle; and after seeing the
queen, went back again. I just drank a dish of
chocolate with him. I fancy I shall have reason to
be angry with him very soon: but what care I? I
believe I shall die with ministries in my debt. This
night I received a certain letter from a place called
Wexford, from two dear naughty girls of my ac-
quaintance; but faith I won't answer it here, no, in
troth. I will send this to Mr. Reading, supposing
it will find you returned; and I hope better for the
waters.
10. Mr. Vice-chamberlain lent me his horses to
ride about and see the country this morning. Dr.
Arbuthnot, the queen's physician and favourite,
went out with me to show me the places: we went
a little after the queen, and overtook Miss Forester,
a maid of honour, on her palfrey, taking the air:
we made her go along with us. We saw a place
they have made for a famous horse-race to-morrow,
where the queen will come. We met the queen
coming back, and Miss Forester stood, like us, with
her hat off while the queen went by. The doctor
and I left the lady where we found her, but under
other conductors, and we dined at a little place he
has taken, about a mile off.-When I came back I
found Mr. Scarborow had sent all about to invite
me to the green cloth, and lessened his company on
purpose to make me easy. It is very obliging, and
will cost me thanks.
will cost me thanks. Much company is come to
town this evening, to see to-morrow's race.
I was
tired with riding a trotting mettlesome horse a dozen
miles, having not been on horseback this twelve-
month. And Miss Forester did not make it easier;
she is a silly true maid of honour, and I did not like
her, although she be a toast, and was dressed like
a man.
11. I will send this letter to-day. I expect the
secretary by noon. I will not go to the race, unless
I can get room in some coach. It is now morning.
I must rise, and fold up and seal my letter.
letter. Farc-
well, and God preserve dearest MD.
I believe I shall leave this town on Monday.
LETTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH.
Windsor, Aug. 11, 1711.
I SENT away my 27th this morning in an express to
London, and directed to Mr. Reading: this shall
go to your lodgings, where I reckon you will be re-
turned before it reaches you. I intended to go to
the race to-day, but was hindered by a visit; I be-
lieve I told you so in my last. I dined to-day at
the green cloth, where everybody had been at the
race but myself, and we were twenty in all, and very
noisy company; but I made the vice-chamberlain
and two friends more sit at a side-table to be a little
quiet. At six I went to see the secretary, who is
returned; but lord-keeper sent to desire I would
sup with him, where I stayed till just now: lord-
treasurer and secretary were to come to us, but both
failed. 'Tis late, &c.
12. I was this morning to visit lord-keeper, who
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
205
made me reproaches that I had never visited him at
Windsor. He had a present sent him of delicious
peaches, and he was champing, and champing, but I
durst not eat one; I wished Dingley had some of
them, for poor Stella can no more eat fruit than
Presto. Dilly Ashe is come to Windsor; and after
church I carried him up to the drawing-room, and
talked to the keeper and treasurer, on purpose to
show them to him, and he saw the queen and several
great lords, and the duchess of Montague: he was
mighty happy, and resolves to fill a letter to the
bishop [of Clogher]. My friend Lewis and I dined
soberly with Dr. Adams, the only neighbour pre-
bendary. One of the prebendaries here is lately a
peer, by the death of his father. He is now lord
Willoughby, of Brooke, and will sit in the house of
lords with his gown. I supped to-night at Masham's
with lord-treasurer, Mr. Secretary, and Prior. The
treasurer made us stay till twelve before he came
from the queen, and 'tis now past two.
13. I reckoned upon going to London to-day;
but by an accident the cabinet council did not sit
last night, and sat to-day, so we go to-morrow at six
in the morning. I missed the race to-day by coming
too late, when everybody's coach was gone, and ride
I would not; I felt my last riding three days after.
We had a dinner to-day at the secretary's lodgings
without him: Mr. Hare, his under-secretary, Mr.
Lewis, brigadier Sutton, and I dined together, and
I made the vice-chamberlain take a snap with us,
rather than stay till five for his lady, who was gone
to the race. The reason why the cabinet council
was not held last night was, because Mr. secretary
St. John would not sit with your duke of Somerset.
So to-day the duke was forced to go to the race
while the cabinet was held. We have music meet-
ings in our town, and I was at the rehearsal t'other
day, but I did not value it, nor would go to the
meeting. Did I tell you this before?
London, 14. We came to town this day in two
hours and forty minutes: twenty miles are nothing
here. I found a letter from the archbishop of
Dublin, sent me the Lord knows how.
He says
•
some of the bishops will hardly believe that lord-
treasurer got the queen to remit the first-fruits be-
fore the duke of Ormond was declared lord-lieu-
tenant; and that the bishops have written a letter
to lord-treasurer to thank him. He has sent me the
address of the convocation, ascribing, in good part,
that affair to the duke, who had less share in it than
MD; for if it had not been for MD, I should not
have been so good a solicitor. I dined to-day in
the city, about a little bit of mischief with a printer.
-I found Mrs. Vanhomrigh all in combustion,
squabbling with her rogue of a landlord; she has
left her house, and gone out of our neighbourhood a
good way.
Her eldest daughter is come of age, and
going to Ireland to look after her fortune, and get it
in her own hands.
15. I dined to-day with Mrs. Van, who goes to-
night to her new lodgings. I went at six to see
lord-treasurer, but his company was gone, contrary
to custom, and he was busy, and I was forced to stay
some time before I could see him. We were toge-
ther hardly an hour, and he went away, being in
haste. He desired me to dine with him on Friday,
because there would be a friend of his that I must
see my lord Harley told me, when he was gone,
that it was Mrs. Masham his father meant, who is
come to town to lie in, and whom I never saw,
though her husband is one of our society. God
send her a good time; her death would be a terrible
thing. Do you know that I have ventured all my
credit with these great ministers to clear some un-
| derstandings between them; and, if there be no
'Tis a
breach, I ought to have the merit of it.
plaguy ticklish piece of work, and a man hazards
losing both sides. "Tis a pity the world does not
know my virtue.-I thought the clergy in convoca-
tion in Ireland would have given me thanks for
being their solicitor, but I hear of no such thing.
Pray talk occasionally on that subject, and let me
know what you hear. Do you know the greatness
of my spirit, that I value their thanks not a rush ?
but at my return shall freely let all people know
that it was my lord-treasurer's action, wherein the
duke of Ormond had no more share than a cat. And
so they may go whistle, and I'll go sleep.
16. I was this day in the city, and dined at Pon-
tack's with Stratford and two other merchants.-
Pontack told us, although his wine was so good, he
sold it cheaper than others, he took but seven shil-
lings a flask.
The
Are not these pretty rates?
books he sent for from Hamburgh are come, but
not yet got out of the custom-house. My library
I shall
will be at least double when I come back,
go to Windsor again on Saturday, to meet our so-
ciety, who are to sup at Mr. Secretary's; but I be-
lieve I shall return on Monday, and then I will an-
swer your letter, that lies safe here underneath :-I
see it; lie still; I'll answer you when the ducks
have eaten up the dirt.
17. I dined to-day at lord-treasurer's with Mrs.
Masham, and she is extremely like one Mrs. Malolly,
She was used
that was once my landlady in Trim.
with mighty kindness and respect, like a favourite.
It signifies nothing going to this lord-treasurer about
business, although it be his own. He was in haste,
and desires I will come again and dine with him
to-morrow. His famous lying porter is fallen sick,
and they think he will die: I wish I had all my
half-crowns again. I believe I have told you he is
an old Scotch fanatic, and the damn'dest liar in his
office alive. I have a mind to recommend Patrick
to succeed him: I have trained him up pretty well.
I reckon for certain you are now in town. The
weather now begins to alter to rain.
Windsor, 18. I dined to-day with lord-treasurer,
and he would make me go with him to Windsor,
although I was engaged to the secretary, to whom I
made my excuses: we had in the coach besides, his
son and son-in law, lord Dupplin, who are two of
our society, and seven of us met by appointment,
and supped this night with the secretary. It was
past nine before we got here, but a fine moonshiny
night. I shall go back, I believe, on Monday. 'Tis
very late.
19. The queen did not stir out to-day, she is in a
little fit of the gout. I dined at Mr. Masham's; we
had none but our society members, six in all, and I
supped with lord-treasurer. The queen has ordered
twenty thousand pounds to go on with the building
at Blenheim, which has been starved till now, since
the change of the ministry. I suppose it is to reward
his last action of getting into the French lines
Lord-treasurer kept me till past twelve.
London, 20. It rained terribly every step of our
journey to-day; I returned with the secretary after
a dinner of cold meat, and went to Mrs. Van's,
where I sat the evening. I grow very idle, because
I have a great deal of business. Tell me how you
passed your time at Wexford; and an't you glad at
heart you have got safe home to your lodgings at
St. Mary's, pray? and so your friends come to visit
you and Mrs. Walls is much better of her eye:
and the dean is just as he used to be and what
does Walls say of London? 'tis a reasoning coxcomb.
And Goody Stoyte, and Hannah what-d'ye-call-her;
206
JOURNAL TO STELLA
no, her name en't Hannah, Catharine I mean; they
were so glad to see the ladies again; and Mrs. Man-
ley wanted a companion at ombre.
21. I writ to-day to the archbishop of Dublin,
and enclosed a long politic paper by itself. You
know the bishops are all angry that (smoke the
wax-candle drop at the bottom of this paper) I have
let the world know the first-fruits were got by lord-
treasurer before the duke of Ormond was governor.
I told lord-treasurer all this, and he is very angry;
but I pacified him again by telling him they were
fools, and knew nothing of what passed here, but
thought all was well enough if they complimented
the duke of Ormond. Lord-treasurer gave me
t'other day a letter of thanks he received from the
bishops of Ireland, signed by seventeen, and says
he will write them an answer. The dean of Carlisle
sat with me to-day till three, and I went to dine
with lord-treasurer, who dined abroad, so did the
secretary, and I was left in the suds. 'Twas almost
four, and I got to sir Matthew Dudley, who had
half dined. Thornhill, who killed sir Cholmley
Dering, was murdered by two men on Turnham-
green last Monday night: as they stabbed him, they
bid him remember sir Cholmley Dering. They had
quarrelled at Hampton-court, and followed and
stabbed him on horseback. We have only a Grub-
street paper of it, but I believe it is true. I went
myself through Turnham-green the same night,
which was yesterday.
22. We have had terrible rains these two or three
days. I intended to dine at lord-treasurer's, but
went to see lady Abercorn, who is come to town,
and my lord; and I dined with them, and visited
lord-treasurer this evening. His porter is mending.
I sat with my lord about three hours, and am come
home early to be busy. Passing by White's choco-
late-house, my brother Masham called me, and told
me his wife was brought to-bed of a boy, and both
very well. (Our society, you must know, are all
brothers.) Dr. Garth told us that Mr. Henley is
dead of an apoplexy. His brother-in-law, earl
Poulet, is gone down to the Grange to take care of
his funeral. The earl of Danby, the duke of Leeds'
eldest grandson, a very hopeful young man of about
twenty, is dead at Utrecht of the small-pox. I long
to know whether you begin to have any good effect
by your waters. Methinks this letter goes on slowly;
'twill be a fortnight next Saturday since it was begun,
and one side not filled. O fie, for shame, Presto.
Faith, I'm so tosticated to and from Windsor, that
I know not what to say; but faith, I'll go to Wind-
sor again on Saturday, if they ask me, not else. So
lose your money again now you are come home, do,
sirrah.
Take your magnifying glass, madam Dingley.
You shan't read this, sirrah Stella; don't read it
for your life, for fear of your dearest eyes.
There's enough for this side; these ministers
hinder me.
Pretty, dear, little, naughty, saucy MD.
Silly, impudent, loggerhead Presto.
23. Dilly and I dined to-day with lord Abercorn,
and had a fine fat haunch of venison, that smelt
rarely on one side, and after dinner Dilly won half
a crown of me at backgammon, at his lodgings, with
great content. It is a scurvy empty town this me-
lancholy season of the year, but I think our weather
begins to mend. The roads are as deep as in winter.
The grapes are sad things, but the peaches are pretty
good, and there are some figs. I sometimes venture
to eat one, but always repent it. You say nothing
of the box sent half a year ago. I wish you would
pay me for Mrs. Walls's tea. Your mother is in the
country, I supposc. Pray send me the account of
MD, madam Dingley, as it stands since November,
that is to say, for this year (excluding the twenty
pounds lent Stella for Wexford), for I cannot look
in your letters. I think I ordered that Hawkshaw's
interest should be paid to you. When you think
proper, I will let Parvisol know you have paid that
twenty pounds, or part of it; and so go play with
the dean, and I will answer your letter to-morrow.
Good night, sirrahs, and love Presto, and be good girls.
24. I dined to-day with lord-treasurer, who chid
me for not dining with him yesterday; for it seems
I did not understand his invitation; and their club
of the ministry dined together, and expected me.
Lord Radnor and I were walking the Mall this even-
ing; and Mr. Secretary met us, and took a turn or
two, and then stole away, and we both believe it was
to pick up some wench; and to-morrow he will be
at the cabinet with the queen; so goes the world.
Prior has been out of town these two months, no-
body knows where, and is lately returned. People
confidently affirm he has been in France, and I half
believe it. It is said he was sent by the ministry,
and for some overtures toward a peace. The secre-
tary pretends he knows nothing of it. I believe
your parlianent will be dissolved. I have been talk-
ing about the quarrel between your lords and com-
mons with lord-treasurer; and did, at the request
of some people, desire that the queen's answer to
the commons' address might express a dislike to some
principles, &c., but was answered dubiously. And
so now to your letter, fair ladies. I know drinking
is bad; I mean writing is bad in drinking the waters ;
and was angry to see so much in Stella's hand. But
why Dingley drinks them I cannot imagine; but
truly she'll drink waters as well as Stella. Why not?
I hope you now find the benefit of them since you
are returned: pray let me know particularly. I am
glad you are forced upon exercise, which, I believe,
is as good as the waters for the heart of them. "Tis
now past the middle of August; so by your reckon-
ing you are in Dublin. It would vex me to the dogs
that letters should miscarry between Dublin and
Wexford, after 'scaping the salt sea. I will write
no more to that nasty town in haste again, I warrant
you. I have been four Sundays together at Windsor,
of which a fortnight together; but I believe I shall
not go to-morrow, for I will not unless the secretary
asks me. I know all your news about the mayor: it
makes no noise here at all, but the quarrel of your
parliament does; it is so very extraordinary, and the
language of the commons so very pretty. The
Examiner has been down this month, and was very
silly the five or six last papers; but there is a pam-
phlet come out, in answer to a Letter to the Seven
Lords who examined Gregg. The answer is by
the real author of the Examiner, as I believe, for it
is very well written [Swift himself]. We had Trap's
poem on the duke of Ormond printed here, and the
printer sold just eleven of them. 'Tis a dull piece,
not half so good as Stella's; and she is very modest
to compare herself with such a poetaster. I am
heartily sorry for poor Mrs. Parnell's death; she
seemed to be an excellent good-natured young
woman, and I believe the poor lad is much afflicted;
they appeared to live perfectly well together. Dilly
is not tired at all with England, but intends to con-
tinue here a good while; he is mighty easy to be at
distance from his two sisters-in law. He finds some
sort of scrub acquaintance; goes now and then in
disguise to a play; smokes his pipe; reads now and
then a little trash, and what else the Lord knows.
"A clerk in Harley's office, convicted of treasonable corre-
spondence.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
207
I see him now and then; for he calls here, and the
town being thin, I am less pestered with company
than usual. I have got rid of many of my solicitors,
by doing nothing for them: I have not above eight
or nine left, and I'll be as kind to them. Did I tell
you of a knight, who desired me to speak to lord-
treasurer to give him two thousand pounds, or five |
hundred pounds a-year, until he could get some-
thing better? I honestly delivered my message to the
treasurer, adding, the knight was a puppy, whom I
would not give a groat to save from the gallows.
Cole Reading's father-in law has been two or three
times at me to recommend his lights to the ministry;
assuring me that a word of mine would, &c. Did not
that dog use to speak ill of me, and profess to hate me?
He knows not where I lodge, for I told him I lived
In the country; and I have ordered Patrick to deny
me constantly to him.-Did the bishop of London
die in Wexford? poor gentleman! did he drink the
waters? were you at his burial? was it a great fune-
ral? so far from his friends! But he was very old:
we shall all follow. And yet it was a pity, if God
pleased. He was a good man; not very learned; I
believe he died but poor. Did he leave any charity
legacies? who held up his pall? was there a great
sight of clergy? do they design a tomb for him? are
you sure it was the bishop of London? because
there is an elderly gentleman here that we give the
same title to: or did you fancy all this in your water,
as others do strange things in their wine? They say
these waters trouble the head, and make people
imagine what never came to pass. Do you make no
more of killing a bishop? are these your Whiggish
tricks?—Yes, yes, I see you are in a fret.
O faith,
says you, saucy Presto, I'll break your head; what,
can't one report what one hears, without being
made a jest and a laughing-stock? are these your
English tricks, with a murrain ?-and Sacheverell
will be the next bishop ?-he would be glad of an
addition of two hundred pounds a-year to what
he has; and that is more than they will give, for
aught I see. He hates the new ministry mortally,
and they hate him, and pretend to despise him too.
They will not allow him to have been the occasion
of the late change; at least some of them will not;
but my lord-keeper owned it to me t'other day. No,
Mr. Addison does not go to Ireland this year: he
pretended he would; but he is gone to Bath with
Pastoral Philips for his eyes. So now I have run
over your letter; and I think this shall go to-morrow,
which will be just a fortnight from the last, and
bring things to the old form again after your rambles
to Wexford, and mine to Windsor. Are there not
many literal faults in my letters? I never read them
over, and I fancy there are. What do you do then?
do you guess my meaning; or are you acquainted
with my manner of mistaking? I lost my handker-
chief in the Mall to-night with lord Radnor; but I
made him walk with me to find it, and find it I did
not.
Tisdall (that lodges with me) and I have had
no conversation, nor do we pull off our hats in the
streets. There is a cousin of his (I suppose), a
young parson, that lodges in the house too; a hand-
some genteel fellow. Dick Tighea and his wife
lodged over against us; and he has been seen, out
of our upper windows, beating her two or three
times; they are both gone to Ireland, but not toge-
ther; and he solemnly vows never to live with her.
Neighbours do not stick to say she has a tongue: in
short, I am told she is the most urging, provoking
devil that ever was born; and he a hot whiffling
puppy, very apt to resent. I'll keep this bottom
till to-morrow: I'm sleepy.
• Afterwards a privy councillor in Ireland.
25. I was with the secretary this morning, who
was in a mighty hurry, and went to Windsor in a
chariot with lord-keeper; so I was not invited, and
am forced to stay at home, but not at all against my
will; for I could have gone, and would not. I dined in
the city with one of my printers, for whom I got the
Gazette, and am come home early; and have nothing
to say to you more, but finish this letter, and not
send it by the bellman. Days grow short, and the
weather grows bad, and the town is splenetic, and
things are so oddly contrived, that I cannot be ab-
sent; otherwise I would go for a few days to Oxford,
as I promised. They say, 'tis certain that Prior has
been in France; nobody doubts it: I had not time
to ask the secretary, he was in such haste. Well,
I will take my leave of dearest MD for a while;
for I must begin my next letter to-night: consider
that, young women; and pray be merry, and good
girls, and love Presto. There is now but one busi-
ness the ministry wants me for; and when that is
done I will take my leave of them. I never got a
penny from them, nor expect it. In my opinion,
some things stand very ticklish; I dare say nothing
at this distance. Farewell, dear sirrahs, dearest
lives: there is peace and quiet with MD, and no-
where else. They have not leisure here to think of
small things, which may ruin them; and I have been
forward enough. Farewell again, dearest rogues :
I am never happy but when I write or think of MD.
I have enough of courts and ministers; and wish I
were at Laracor; and if I could with honour come
away this moment, I would. Bernage came to see
me to-day; he is just landed from Portugal, and
come to raise recruits; he looks very well, and seems
pleased with his station and manner of life: he never
saw London nor England before; he is ravished with
Kent, which was his first prospect when he landed.
Farewell again, &c. &c.
LETTER THE TWENY-NINTH.
London, Aug. 25, 1711.
I HAVE got a pretty small gilt sheet of paper to write
to MD. I have this moment sent my 28th by
Patrick, who tells me he has put it in the post-office.
'Tis directed to your lodgings; if it wants more par-
ticular direction, you must set me right. It is now
a solar month and two days since the date of your
last, No. 18, and I reckon you are now quiet at home,
and thinking to begin your 19th, which will be full of
your quarrel between the two houses: all which I
know already. Where shall I dine to-morrow? can
you tell? Mrs. Vanhomrigh boards now, and cannot
invite one; and there I used to dine when I was at
a loss; and all my friends are gone out of town,
and your town is now at the fullest with your par-
liament and convocation. But let me alone, sirrahs;
for Presto is going to be very busy; not Presto, but
t'other I.
26. People have so left the town, that I am at a
loss for a dinner. It is a long time since I have been
at London upon a Sunday; and the ministers are all
at Windsor. It cost me eighteenpence in coach-
hire before I could find a place to dine in. I went
to Frankland's, and he was abroad; and the drab
his wife looked out of window, and bowed to me.
without inviting me up; so I dined with Mr. Coote,
my lord Montrath's brother; my lord is with you in
Ireland. This morning at five my lord Jersey died
of the gout in his stomach, or apoplexy, or both: he
was abroad yesterday, and his death was sudden : he
was chamberlain to king William, and a great
favourite, turned out by the queen as a Tory, and
stood now fair to be privy-seal; and by his death will,
208
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
I suppose, make that matter casier, which has been a
very stubborn business at court, as I have been in-
formed. I never remembered so many people of
quality to have died in so short a time.
27. I went to-day into the city to thank Stratford
for my books, and dine with him, and settle my
affairs of my money in the bank, and receive a bill
for Mrs. Wesley, for some things to buy for her; and
the d- a one of all these could I do. The mer-
chants were all out of town, and I was forced to go
to a little hedge place for my dinner. May my enemies
live here in summer! and yet I am so unlucky, that
I cannot possibly be out of the way at this juncture.
People leave the town so late in summer, and return
so late in winter, that they have almost inverted the
seasons. It is autumn this good while in St. James's
park; the limes have been losing their leaves, and
those remaining on the trees are all parched. I
hate this season, where everything grows worse and
worse. The only good thing of it is the fruit, and
that I dare not eat.-Had you any fruit at Wex-
ford a few cherries, and durst not eat them. I do
not hear we have yet got a new privy seal.
Whigs whisper that our new ministry differ among
themselves, and they begin to talk out Mr. Secretary.
They have some reason for their whispers, although
I thought it was a greater secret. I do not much
like the posture of things; I always apprehended
that any falling out would ruin them, and so I have
told them several times. The Whigs are mighty full
of hopes at present; and, whatever is the matter,
all kind of stocks fall. I have not yet talked with
the secretary about Prior's journey. I should be
apt to think it may foretel a peace; and that is all
we have to preserve us. The secretary is not come
from Windsor; but I expect him to-morrow. Burn
all politics!
The
28. We begin to have fine weather, and I walked
to-day to Chelsea, and dined with the dean of Car-
lisle, who is laid up with the gout. It is now fixed
that he is to be dean of Christ Church, in Oxford.
I was advising him to use his interest to prevent any
misunderstanding between our ministers; but he is
too wise to meddle, though he fears the thing and con-
He will get into his own
sequences as much as I.
warın quiet deanery, and leave them to themselves;
and he is in the right. When I came home to-night
I found a letter from Mr. Lewis, who is now at
Windsor; and in it, forsooth, another, which looked
like Presto's hand; and what should it be but a 19th
from MD? O faith, I 'scaped narrowly, for I sent
my 28th but on Saturday; and what should I have
done if I had two letters to answer at once? I did
not expect another from Wexford, that's certain.
Well, I must be contented; but you are dear saucy
girls, for all that, to write so soon again, faith; an't
you?
29. I dined to-day with lord Abercorn, and took
my leave of them; they set out to-morrow for Ches-
ter; and, I believe, will now fix in Ireland. They
His eldest
have made a pretty good journey of it.
son is married to a lady with ten thousand pounds;
and his son has t'other day got a prize in the lottery
of four thousand pounds, beside two small ones of
two hundred pounds each: nay, the family was so
fortunate, that my lord bestowing one ticket, which
is a hundred pounds, to one of his servants, who had
been his page, the young fellow got a prize, which
has made it another hundred. I went in the
evening to lord-treasurer, who desires I will dine
with him to-morrow, when he will show me the an-
swer he designs to return to the letter of thanks from
your bishops in Ireland. The archbishop of Dublin
desired me to get myself mentioned in the answer
|
|
which my lord would send ; but I sent him word I
would not open my lips to my lord upon it. He
says it would convince the bishops of what I have
affirmed, that the first-fruits were granted before the
duke of Ormond was declared governor; and I writ
to him that I would not give a farthing to convince
them. My lord-treasurer began a health to my
lord privy-seal: Prior punned, and said it was so
privy, he knew not who it was; but I fancy they
have fixed it all, and we shall know to-morrow.
But what care you who is privy-seal, saucy slut-
tikins?
30. When I went out this morning I was surprised
with the news that the bishop of Bristol is made lord
privy-seal. You know his name is Robinson, and
that he was many years envoy in Sweden. All the
friends of the present ministry are extreme glad, and
the clergy above the rest. The Whigs will fret to
death to see a civil employment given to a clergyman.
It was a very handsome thing in my lord-treasurer,
and will bind the church to him for ever. I dined
with him to-day, but he had not written his letter;
but told me he would not offer to send it without
showing it to me: he thought that would not be just,
since I was so deeply concerned in the affair.
had much company; lord Rivers, Marr, and Kin-
noul, Mr. Secretary, George Granville, and Masham;
the last has invited me to the christening of his son
to-morrow se'ennight; and on Saturday I go to
Windsor with Mr. Secretary.
We
31. Dilly and I walked to-day to Kensington to
lady Mountjoy, who invited us to dinner. He re-
turned soon to go to the play, it being the last that
will be acted for some time: he dresses himself like
a beau, and no doubt makes a fine figure. I went
to visit some people at Kensington. Ophy Butler's
wife there lies very ill of an ague, which is a very
common disease here, and little known in Ireland.
I am apt to think we shall soon have a peace, by the
little words I hear thrown out by the ministry. I
I
have just thought of a project to bite the town.
have told you that it is now known that Mr. Prior
has been lately in France. I will make a printer of
my own sit by me one day, and I will dictate to him
a formal relation of Prior's journey, with several
particulars, all pure invention; and I doubt not but
it will take.
September 1. Morning.-I go to-day to Windsor
with Mr. Secretary; and lord-treasurer has promised to
bring me back. The weather has been fine for some
time, and I believe we shall have a great deal of dust.
At night. Windsor.-The secretary and I, and briga-
dier Sutton, dined to-day at Parson's-green, at my
lord Peterborow's house, who has left it and his gar-
dens to the secretary during his absence. It is the
finest garden I have ever seen about this town, and
abundance of hot walls for grapes, where they are in
great plenty, and ripening fast.
great plenty, and ripening fast. I durst not eat any
fruit but one fig; but I brought a basketful to my
friend Lewis here at Windsor. Does Stella never
eat any? what, no apricots at Donnybrook? nothing
but claret and ombre? I envy people maunching
and maunching peaches and grapes, and I not daring
to cat a bit. My head is pretty well, only a sudden turn
any time makes me giddy for a moment, and some-
times it feels very stuffed; but if it grows no worse,
I can bear it very well. I take all opportunities of
walking; and we have a delicious park here just
joining to the castle, and an avenue in the great park
very wide, and two miles long, set with a double
row of elms on each side. Were you ever at Wind-
sor? I was once a great while ago; but had quite
forgotten it.
2. The queen has the gout, and did not come to
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
209
chapel, nor stir out from her chamber, but received
the sacrament there, as she always does the first
Sunday in the month. Yet we had a great court,
and among others I saw your Ingoldsby, who, see-
ing me talk very familiarly with the keeper, trea-
surer, &c., came up and saluted me, and began a
very impertinent discourse about the siege of Bou-
chain. I told him I could not answer his questions,
but I would bring him one that should; so I went
and fetched Sutton (who brought over the express
about a month ago), and delivered him to the gene-
ral, and bid him answer his questions? and so I left
them together. Sutton, after some time, came back
in rage finds me with lord Rivers and Masham,
and there complains of the trick I had played him,
and swore he had been plagued to death with In-
goldsby's talk. But he told me Ingoldsby asked
him what I meant by bringing him; so I suppose
he smoked me a little. So we laughed, &c.
lord Willoughby, who is one of the chaplains, and
prebendary of Windsor, read prayers last night to
the family; and the bishop of Bristol, who is dean
of Windsor, officiated last night at the cathedral.
This they do to be popular, and it pleases mightily.
I dined with Mr. Masham, because he lets me have
a select company.
For the court here have got
by the end a good thing I said to the secretary some
weeks ago. He showed me his bill of fare to tempt
me to dine with him; Poh, said I, I value not your
bill of fare; give me your bill of company. Lord-
treasurer was mightily pleased, and told it everybody
as a notable thing. I reckon upon returning to-
morrow; they say the bishop will then have the
privy-seal delivered him at a great council.
My
3. Windsor still. The council was held so late
to-day, that I do not go back to town till to-morrow.
The bishop was sworn privy-counsellor, and had the
privy-scal given him: and now the patents are
passed for those who were this long time to be made
lords or earls. Lord Raby, who is earl of Strafford,
is on Thursday to marry a namesake of Stella's; the
daughter of sir H. Johnson in the city; he has three-
score thousand pounds with her, ready money, beside
the rest at the father's death. I have got my friend
Stratford to be one of the directors of the South Sea
company, who were named to-day. My lord-treasurer
did it for me a month ago; and one of those whom
I got to be printer of the Gazette I am recommending
to be printer to the same company. He treated Mr.
Lewis and me to-day at dinner. I supped last night
and this with lord-treasurer, keeper, &c., and took
occasion to mention the printer. I said it was the
same printer whom my lord-treasurer has appointed
to print for the South Sea company; he denied, and
I insisted on it; and I got the laugh on my side.
London, 4. I came as far as Brentford in lord
Rivers's chariot, who had business with lord-trea-
surer; then I went into lord-treasurer's; we stopped
at Kensington, where lord-treasurer went to see Mrs.
Masham, who is now what they call in the straw.
We got to town by three, and I lighted at lord-trea-
surer's, who commanded me not to stir: but I was
not well; and when he went up I begged the young
lord to excuse me, and so went into the city by
water, where I could be easier, and dined with the
printer, and dictated to him some part of Prior's Jour-
ney to France. I walked from the city, for I take all
occasions of exercise. Our journey was horrid dusty.
5. When I went out to-day I found it had rained
mightily in the night, and the streets were as dirty
as winter; it is very refreshing after ten days dry.
I went into the city and dined with Stratford,
thanked him for his books, gave him joy of his be-
ing director, of which he had the first notice by a
VOL. I.
letter from me. I ate sturgeon, and it lies on my
stomach. I almost finished Prior's Journey at the
printer's, and came home pretty late with Patrick
at my heels.
7. Morning. But what shall we do about this let-
ter of MD's, No. 19? not a word answered yet, and
so much paper spent? I cannot do anything in it,
sweethearts, till night. At night.-O Lord, O Lord,
the greatest disgrace that ever was has happened to
Presto. What do you think? but when I was go-
ing out this forenoon a letter came from MD, No.
20, dated at Dublin. O dear, O dear; O sad, ()
sad! Now I have two letters together to answer:
here they are, lying together. But I will only an-
swer the first; for I came in late. I dined with
my friend Lewis at his lodgings, and walked at six
to Kensington to Mr. Masham's christening. It was
very private; nobody there but my lord-treasurer,
his son, and son-in-law, that is to say, lord Harley,
and lord Dupplin, and lord Rivers, and I. The
dean of Rochester christened the child, but soon
went away.
Lord-treasurer and lord Rivers were
godfathers, and Mrs. Hill, Mrs. Masham's sister,
godmother. The child roared like a bull, and I gave
Mrs. Masham joy of it; and she charged me to take
care of my nephew, because, Mr. Masham being
a brother of our society, his son you know is
consequently a nephew. Mrs. Masham sat up
dressed in bed, but not as they do in Ireland, with
all smooth about her, as if she was cut off in the
middle; for you might see the counterpane (what
d'ye call it?) rise above her hips and body. There's
another name of the counterpane, and you'll laugh
now, sirrahs. George Granville came in at supper,
and we stayed till eleven, and lord-treasurer set me
down at my lodgings in Suffolk-street. Did I ever
tell you that lord-treasurer hears ill with the left
ear, just as I do? He always turns the right; and
his servants whisper him at that only. I dare not
tell him that I am so too, for fear he should think I
counterfeited, to make my court.
6. You must read this before the other; for I mis-
took and forgot to write yesterday's journal, it was
so insignificant: I dined with Dr. Cockburn, and
sat the evening with lord-treasurer till ten o'clock.
On Thursdays he has always a large select company,
and expects me. So good night for last night, &c.
8. Morning. I go to Windsor with lord-treasurer
to-day, and will leave this behind me to be sent to
the post. And now let us hear what says the first
letter, No. 19. You are still at Wexford, as you say,
madam Dingley. I think no letter from me ever
yet miscarried.
yet miscarried. And so Inish-Corthy [Enniscorthy,
county of Wexford] and the river Slainy; fine words
those in a lady's mouth. Your hand like Dingley's?
you scambling, scattering, sluttikin : Yes, mighty
like indeed, is it not? Pisshh! don't talk of writing
or reading till your eyes are well, and long well;
only I would have Dingley read sometimes to you,
that you may not quite lose the desire of it. God
be thanked that the ugly numbing is gone. Pray
use exercise when you go to town.
What game is
that ombrab which Dr. Elwood and you play at ? is
it the Spanish game ombre? Your card-purse! you a
card-purse! you a fiddlestick. You have luck indeed ;
and luck in a bag. What a devil is that eight-shil-
ling tea-kettle copper, or tin japanned? It is like
your Irish politeness, raffling for tea-kettles. What
a splutter you keep to convince me that Walls has
no taste! My head continues pretty well. Why
These words in Italics are written in strange misshapen let-
ters, inclining to the right hand, in imitation of Stella's writing.
In Stella's spelling. It is an odd thing that a woman of
Stella's understanding should spell extremely ill.
P
210
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
do you write, dear sirrah Stella, when you find your
eyes so weak that you cannot see? what comfort is
there in reading what you write, when one knows
that? So Dingley can't write because of the clutter
of new company come to Wexford? I suppose the
noise of their hundred horses disturbs you; or, do
you lie in one gallery, as in an hospital? What, you
are afraid of losing in Dublin the acquaintance you
have got in Wexford; and chiefly the bishop of
Raphoe, an old, doting, perverse coxcomb! Twenty
at a time at breakfast. That is like five pounds at
a time, when it was never but once. I doubt,
madam Dingley, you are apt to lie in your travels,
though not so bad as Stella; she tells thumpers, as
I shall prove in my next, if I find this receives en-
couragement. So Dr. Elwood says there are a
world of pretty things in my works. A pox on his
The duke
praises! an enemy here would say more.
of Buckingham would say as much, though he and
I are terribly fallen out; and the great men are per-
petually inflaming me against him: they bring me
all he says of me, and, I believe, make it worse, out
of roguery. No, 'tis not your pen is bewitched,
madam Stella, but your old scrawling, splay-foot,
pot-hooks, s, f, ay, that's it: there the s, f, f, there,
there, that's exact. Farewell, &c.
Our fine weather is gone, and I doubt we shall
have a rainy journey to-day. Faith, 'tis shaving-
day, and I have much to do.
When Stella says her pen is bewitched, it was
only because there was a hair in it. You know the
fellow they call God-help-it had the same thoughts
of his wife, and for the same reason. I think this
is very well observed, and I unfolded the letter to
tell you it.
Cut off those two notes above; and see the nine
pounds endorsed, and receive the other; and send
ine word how my accounts stand, that they may be
adjusted by Nov. 1. Pray be very particular: but
the twenty pounds I lend you is not to be included;
I won't wrong you, nor you
so make no blunder.
shan't wrong me; that's the short. O Lord, how
stout Presto is of late! But he loves MD more
than his life a thousand times, for all his stoutness;
tell him that; and I'll swear it, as hope saved, ten
millions of times, &c. &c.
I open my letter once more to tell Stella that, if
she does not use exercise after her waters, it will
lose all the effects of them: I should not live if I
did not take all opportunities of walking. Pray,
pray, do this to oblige poor Presto.
LETTER THE THIRTIETH.
Windsor, Sept. 8, 1711.
I MADE the coachman stop, and put in my 29th at
the post-office at two o'clock to-day, as I was going
to lord-treasurer, with whom I dined, and came
here by a quarter past eight; but the moon shone,
and so we were not in much danger of overturning;
which, however, he values not a straw, and only
There was no-
laughs when I chide at him for it.
body but he and I, and we supped together, with
Mr. Masham and Dr. Arbuthnot, the queen's fa-
vourite physician, a Scotchman. I could not keep
myself awake after supper, but did all I was able to
disguise it, and thought I came off clear; but at
parting he told me I had got my nap already. It
is now one o'clock; but he loves sitting up late.
9. The queen is still in the gout, but recovering;
she saw company in her bedchamber after church;
but the crowd was so great I could not see her.
I
" These words in Italics, and the two esses that follow, are
miserably scrawled, in imitation of Stella's hand.
|
dined with my brother, sir William Wyndham, and
some others of our society, to avoid the great tables
on Sunday at Windsor, which I hate. The usual
company supped to-night at lord-treasurer's, which
was lord-keeper, Mr. Secretary, George Granville,
Masham, Arbuthnot, and 1. But showers have
hindered me from walking to-day, and that I don't
love.-Noble fruit, and I dare not eat a bit. I ate
one fig to-day, and sometimes a few mulberries, be-
cause it is said they are wholesome, and you know
a good name does much. I shall return to town to-
morrow, though I thought to have stayed a week,
to be at leisure for something I am doing. But I
have put it off till next; for I shall come here again
on Saturday, when our society are to meet at supper
at Mr. Secretary's. My life is very regular here:
on Sunday morning I constantly visit lord-keeper,
and sup at lord-treasurer's with the same set of com-
pany. I was not sleepy to-night; I resolved I
would not; yet it is past midnight at this present
writing.
London, 10. Lord-treasurer and Masham and I
left Windsor at three this afternoon: we dropped
Masham at Kensington with his lady, and got home
by six. It was seven before we sat down to dinner,
and I stayed till past eleven. Patrick came home
with the secretary: I am more plagued with Patrick
and my portmantua than with myself. I forgot to
tell you that when I went to Windsor on Saturday
I overtook lady Giffard and Mrs. Fenton in a cha-
riot, going, I suppose, to Sheen. I was then in a
chariot too, of lord-treasuser's brother, who had
business with the treasurer; and my lord came
after, and overtook me at Turnham-green, four
miles from London, and then the brother went back,
and I went in the coach with lord-treasurer: so it
happened that those people saw me, and not with
lord-treasurer. Mrs. Fenton was to see me about
a week ago; and desired I would get her son into
the Charterhouse.
11. This morning the printer sent me an account
of Prior's Journey; it makes a twopenny pamphlet;
I suppose you will see it, for I dare engage it will
run; 'tis a formal grave lie, from the beginning to
the end. I writ all but about the last page, that I
dictated, and the printer writ. Mr. Secretary sent
to me to dine where he did; it was at Prior's;
when I came in Prior showed me the pamphlet,
seemed to be angry, and said, Here is our English
liberty: I read some of it, and said I liked it
mightily, and envied the rogue the thought; for,
had it come into my head, I should have certainly
done it myself. We stayed at Prior's till past ten,
and then the secretary received a packet with the
news of Bouchain being taken, for which the guns
Prior owned his having
will go off to-morrow.
been in France, for it was past denying; it seems
he was discovered by a rascal at Dover, who had
positive orders to let him pass. I believe we shall
have a peace.
12. It is terrible rainy weather, and has cost me
three shillings in coaches and chairs to-day, yet I
was dirty into the bargain. I was three hours this
morning with the secretary about some business of
moment, and then went into the city to dine. The
printer tells me he sold yesterday a thousand of
Prior's Journey, and had printed five hundred more.
It will do rarely, I believe, and is a pure bite. And
what is MD doing all this while? got again to their
cards, their Walls, their deans, their Stoytes, and
their claret? Pray present my service to Mr.
Stoyte and Catherine. Tell Goody Stoyte she owes
me a world of dinners, and I will shortly come over
and demand them.-Did I tell you of the archbishop
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
211
of Dublin's last letter? He had been saying in
several of his former that he would shortly write to
me something about myself, and it looked to me as
if he intended something for me: at last out it
comes, and consists of two parts. First, he advises
me to strike in for some preferment now I have
friends; and secondly, he advises me, since I have
parts, and learning, and a happy pen, to think of
some new subject in divinity not handled by others,
which I should manage better than anybody. A
rare spark this, with a pox! but I shall answer him
as rarely. Methinks he should have invited me
over, and given me some hopes or promises. But,
hang him! and so good night, &c.
13. It rained most furiously all this morning till
about twelve, and sometimes thundered; I trembled
for my shillings, but it cleared up, and I made a
shift to get a walk in the park, and then went with
the secretary to dine with lord-treasurer. Upon
Thursdays there is always a select company; we
had the duke of Shrewsbury, lord Rivers, the two
secretaries, Mr. Granville, and Mr. Prior. Half of
them went to council at six; but Rivers, Granville,
Prior, and I, stayed till eight. Prior was often
affecting to be angry at the account of his journey
to Paris; and, indeed, the two last pages, which the
printer had got somebody to add, are so romantic,
they spoil all the rest. Dilly Ashe pretended to me
that he was only going to Oxford and Cambridge for
a fortnight, and then would come back. I could
not see him as I appointed t'other day; but some of
his friends tell me he took leave of them as going to
Ireland; and so they say at his lodging. I believe
the rogue was ashamed to tell me so, because I ad-
vised him to stay the winter, and he said he would.
I find he had got into a good set of scrub acquaint-
ance, and I thought passed his time very merrily;
but I suppose he languished after Balderig and the
claret of Dublin: and after all I think he is in the
right; for he can eat, drink, and converse better
there than here. Bernage was with me this morn-
ing he calls now and then; he is in terrible fear of
a peace. He said he never had his health so well
as in Portugal. He is a favourite of his colonel.
14. I was mortified enough to-day, not knowing
where in the world to dine, the town is so empty;
I met H. Coote, and thought he would invite me,
but he did not: sir John Stanley did not come into
my head; so I took up with Mrs. Van, and dined
with her and her damned landlady, who, I believe
by her eyebrows, is a bawd. This evening I met
Addison and Pastoral Philips in the park, and sup-
ped with them at Addison's lodgings; we were very
good company; and yet know no man half so agree-
able to me as he is. I sat with them till twelve, so
you may think 'tis late, young women; however, I
would have some little conversation with MD be-
fore your Presto goes to bed, because it makes me
sleep, and dream, and so forth. Faith, this letter
goes on slowly enough, sirrahs, but I can't write
much at a time till you are quite settled after your
journey you know, and have gone all your visits,
and lost your money at ombre. You never play at
chess now, Stella. That puts me in mind of Dick
Tighe; I fancy I told you he used to beat his wife
here: and she deserved it; and he resolves to part
with her; and they went to Ireland in different
coaches. O Lord, I said all this before, I'm sure.
Go to bed, sirrahs.
Windsor, 15. I made the secretary stop at Brent-
ford, because we set out at two this afternoon, and
fasting would not agree with me. I only designed
to eat a bit of bread and butter, but he would light,
and we ate roast beef like dragons. And he made
me treat him and two more gentlemen; faith it cost
me a guinea; I don't like such jesting, yet I was
mightily pleased with it too. To-night our society
met at the secretary's; there were nine of us; and
we have chosen a new member, the earl of Jersey,
whose father died lately. "Tis past one, and I have
stolen away.
16. I design to stay here this week by myself,
about some business that lies on my hands, and will
take up a great deal of time. Dr. Adams, one of
The
the canons, invited me to-day to dinner.
tables are so full here on Sunday that it is hard to
dine with a few, and Dr. Adams knows I love to do
so; which is very obliging. The queen saw com-
pany in her bedchamber; she looks very well, but
she sat down. I supped with lord-treasurer as
usual, and stayed till past one as usual, and with
our usual company, except lord-keeper, who did not
come this time to Windsor.
I hate these suppers
mortally; but I seldom eat anything.
17. Lord-treasurer and Mr. Secretary stay here
till to-morrow; some business keeps them, and I
am sorry for it, for they hinder me a day. Mr.
Lewis and I were going to dine soberly with a little
court friend at one. But lord Harley and lord
Dupplin kept me by force, and said we should dine
at lord-treasurer's, who intended to go at four to
London; I stayed like a fool, and went with the
two young lords to lord-treasurer, who very fairly
turned us all three out of doors. They both were
invited to the duke of Somerset, but he was gone to
a horse-race, and would not come till five: so we
were forced to go to a tavern, and send for wine
from lord-treasurer's, who at last we were told did
not go to town till to-morrow, and at lord-trea-
surer's we supped again; and I desired him to let
me add four shillings to the bill I gave him. We
sat up till two, yet I must write to little MD.
18. They are all gone early this morning; and I
am alone to seek my fortune; but Dr. Arbuthnot
engages me for my dinners; and he yesterday gave
me my choice of place, person, and victuals for to-
day. So I chose to dine with Mrs. Hill, who is one
of the dressers and Mrs. Masham's sister; no com-
pany but us three, and to have a shoulder of mutton,
a small one, which was exactly, only there was too
much victuals besides; and the Dr.'s wife was of
the company. And to-morrow Mrs. Hill and I are
to dine with the doctor. I have seen a fellow often
about court, whom I thought I knew; I asked who
he was? and they told me it was the gentleman
porter; then I called him to mind ; he was Killy's
acquaintance, (I won't say yours,) I think his naine
is Lovet, or Lovel, or something like it. I believe
he does not know me, and in my present posture I
shall not be fond of renewing old acquaintance; I
believe I used to see him with the Bradleys; and,
by the way, I have not seen Mrs. Bradley since I
came to England. I left your letter in London like
a fool, and cannot answer it till I go back, which
will not be until Monday next: so this will be above
a fortnight from my last; but I will fetch it up in
my next; so go and walk to the dean's for your
health this fine weather.
19. The queen designs to have cards and dancing
here next week, which makes us think she will stay
here longer than we believed. Mrs. Masham is not
well after her lying-in: I doubt she got some cold:
she is lame in one of her legs with a rheumatic pain.
Dr. Arbuthnot and Mrs. Hill go to-morrow to Ken-
sington to see her, and return the same night.
Mrs.
Hill and I dined with the doctor to-day. I rode
out this morning with the doctor to see Cranburn,
a house of lord Ranelagh's, and the duchess of Marl-
F2
212
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
borough's lodge, and the park; the finest places
they are for nature and plantations that ever I saw;
and the finest riding upon artificial roads, made on
purpose for the queen. Arbuthnot made me draw
up a sham subscription for a book, called a History
of the Maids of Honour since Harry the Eighth,
showing they make the best wives, with a list of all
the Maids of Honour since, &c., to pay a crown in
hand, and the other crown upon the delivery of the
book; and all in the common forms of those things.
We got a gentleman to write it fair, because my
hand is known, and we sent it to the maids of ho-
nour when they came to supper. If they bite at it,
'twill be a very good court jest, and the queen will
certainly have it; we did not tell Mrs. Hill.
20. To-day I was invited to the green-cloth by
colonel Godfrey, who married the duke of Marl-
borough's sister, mother to the duke of Berwick by
king James: I must tell you those things that hap-
pened before you were born: but I made my ex-
cuses, and young Harcourt (lord-keeper's son) and
I dined with my next neighbour Dr. Adams. Mrs.
Masham is better, and will be here in three or four
days. She had need; for the duchess of Somerset
is thought to gain ground daily. We have not
yet sent you over all your bills; and I think we
have altered your money-bill. The duke of Or-
mond is censured here by those in power for very
wrong management in the affair of the mayoralty.
He is governed by fools; and has usually much
more sense than his advisers, but never proceeds by
it. I must know how your health continues after
Wexford. Walk and use exercise, sirrahs both; and
get somebody to play at shuttle-cock with you,
madam Stella, and walk to the dean's and Donny-
brook.
21. Colonel Godfrey sent to me again to-day; so
I dined at the green-cloth, and we had but eleven at
dinner, which is a small number there, the court
being always thin of company till Saturday night.
This new ink and pen make a strange figure; I
must write larger; yes, I must, or Stella won't be able
to read this.a S. S. S., there's your S s for you,
Stella. The maids of honour are bit, and have all
contributed their crowns, and are teazing others to
subscribe for the book. I will tell lord-keeper and
lord-treasurer to-morrow; and I believe the queen
will have it. After a little walk this evening I
squandered away the rest of it in sitting at Lewis's
lodging, while he and Dr. Arbuthnot played at
picquet. I have that foolish pleasure, which I be-
lieve nobody has beside me, except old lady Berke-
ley. But I fretted when I came away. I will loiter
so no more, for I have a plaguy deal of business upon
my hands, and very little time to do it. The pam-
phleteers begin to be very busy against the ministry.
I have begged Mr. Secretary to make examples of
one or two of them; and he assures me he will.
They are very bold and abusive.
22. This being the day the ministry comes to
Windsor, I ate a bit or two at Mr. Lewis's lodgings,
because I must sup with lord-treasurer; and at half
an hour after one I led Mr. Lewis a walk up the
avenue, which is two miles long: we walked in all
about five miles, but I was so tired with his slow
walking that I left him here, and walked two miles
toward London, hoping to meet lord-treasurer, and
return with him, but it grew darkish, and I was
forced to walk back; so I walked nine miles in all,
and lord-treasurer did not come till after eight,
which is very wrong, for there was no moon, and I
often tell him how ill he does to expose himself so,
but he only makes a jest of it. I supped with him,
a These words in Italics are written enormously large.
and stayed till now, when it is half an hour after
two. He is as merry, and careless, and disengaged,
as a young heir at one-and-twenty. 'Tis late in-
deed.
23. The secretary did not come last night, but at
three this afternoon; I have not seen him yet, but I
verily think they are contriving a peace as fast as
they can, without which it will be impossible to
subsist. The queen was at church to-day, but was
carried in a chair. I and Mr. Lewis dined privately
with Mr. Lowman, clerk of the kitchen. I was to
see lord-keeper this morning, and told him the jest
of the maids of honour, and lord-treasurer had it
last night. That rogue Arbuthnot puts it all upon
me. The court was very full to-day; I expect-
ed lord-treasurer would have invited me to supper,
but he only bowed to me, and we had no discourse
in the drawing-room. 'Tis now seven at night, and
I am at home,
I am at home, and I hope lord-treasurer will not
send for me to supper; if he does not I will reproach
him, and he will pretend to chide me for not coming.
So farewell till I go to bed, for I am going to be
busy. 'Tis now past ten, and I went down to ask
the servants about Mr. Secretary; they tell me the
queen is yet at council, and that she went to supper,
and came out to the council afterward. 'Tis certain
they are managing a peace. I will go to bed, and
there's an end. 'Tis now eleven, and a messenger
is come from lord-treasurer to sup with them, but I
have excused myself, and am glad I am in bed, for
else I should sit up till two, and drink till I was hot.
Now I'll go sleep.
I
London, 24.—I came to town by six with lord-
treasurer, and have stayed till ten. That of the
queen's going out to sup, and coming in again, is a
lie, as the secretary told me this morning, but I find
the ministry are very busy with Mr. Prior, and I be-
lieve he will go again to France. I am told so much,
that we shall certainly have a peace very soon.
had charming weather all last week at Windsor, but
we have had a little rain to-day, and yesterday was
windy. Prior's Journey sells still; they have sold
two thousand, although the town is empty. I found
a letter from Mrs. Fenton here, desiring me, in lady
Giffard's name, to come and pass a week at Sheen,
while she is at Moor-park. I will answer it with a
vengeance; and now you talk of answering, there
is MD's No. 20 yet to be answered: I had put it
up so safe I could hardly find it; but here it is,
faith, and I am afraid I cannot send this till Thurs-
day, for I must see the secretary to-morrow morning,
and be in some other place in the evening.
25. Stella writes like an emperor, and gives such
an account of her journey, never saw the like. Let
me see; stand away, let us compute: you stayed
four days at Inish-Corthy, two nights at Mrs.
Proby's mother's, and yet was but six days in
journey; for your words are, "We left Wexford
this day se'nnight, and came here last night." I
have heard them say that travellers may lie by
authority. Make up this if you can. How far is
it from Wexford to Dublin? how many miles did.
you travel in a day? Let me see-thirty pounds in
two months is nine score pounds a-year; a matter of
nothing in Stella's purse. I dreamed Billy Swift
was alive, and that I told him you writ me word he
was dead, and that you had been at his funeral, and
I admired at your impudence, and was in mighty
haste to run and let you know what lying rogues
you were. Poor lad, he is dead of his mother's
former folly and fondness, and yet now I believe, as
you say, that her grief will soon wear off. O yes,
madam Dingley, mightily tired of the company, no
doubt of it, at Wexford! and your description of it
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
213
:
" In
this place, (meaning the exchange in London,)
which is the compendium of old Troynovant, as that
is of the whole busy world, I got such a surfeit that
I grew sick of mankind, and resolved for ever after
to bury myself in the shady retreat of
You
must know that London has been called by some
Troynovant, or New Troy. Will you have any
more? Yes, one little bit for Stella, because she'll
be fond of it. "This wondrous theatre," meaning
London, "was no more to me than a desert, and I
should less complain of solitude in a Connaught ship-
wreck, or even the great bog of Allen.' A little
scrap for Mrs. Marget (Stella's maid), and then I
have done. "Their royal fanum, wherein the idol
Pecunia is daily worshipped, seemed to me to be
just like a hive of bees working and labouring under
huge weights of cares." Fanum is a temple, but he
means the Exchange; and Pecunia is money: so
now Mrs. Marget will understand her part. One
more paragraph, and I-Well, come, don't be in
such a rage, you shall have no more. Pray, Stella,
be satisfied; 'tis very pretty: and that I must be
acquainted with such a dog as this!—Our peace goes
on fast. Prior was with the secretary two hours
this morning: I was there a little after he went
away, and was told it.
away, and was told it. I believe he will soon be
despatched again to France; and I will put somebody
to write an account of his second journey: I hope
you have seen the other. This letter has taken up
my time with storming at it.
is excellent; clean sheets, but bare walls; I suppose when I saw him, for fear of his reporting it in Ire-
then you lay upon the walls. Mrs. Walls has got land. And this recommendation must be a secret
her tea, but who pays me the money? Come, I too, for fear the duke of Bolton should know it, and
shall never get it, so I make a present of it to stop think it was too mean. I never read so d-d a let-
some gaps, &c. Where's the thanks of the house? ter in my life: a little would make me send it over
so, that's well; why, it cost four-and-thirty shillings to you. I must send you a pattern, the first place
English. You must adjust that with Mrs. Walls; II cast my eyes on, I will not pick and choose.
think that is so many pence more with you.-No,
Leigh and Sterne, I suppose, were not at the water-
side I fear Sterne's business will not be done; I
have not seen him this good while. I hate him
I hate him
for the management of that box, and I was the
greatest fool in nature for trusting to such a young
jackanapes; I will speak to him once more about
it when I see him. Mr. Addison and I met once
more since, and I supped with him. I believe I told
you so somewhere in this letter. The archbishop
chose an admirable messenger in Walls to send
to me, yet I think him fitter for a messenger than
anything. The d-shea has! I did not observe her
looks. Will she rot out of modesty with lady Gif-
fard? I pity poor Jenny [his sister, Mrs. Fenton]
but her husband is a dunce, and with respect to
him she loses little by her deafness. I believe, ma-
dam Stella, in your accounts you mistook one liquor
for another, and it was a hundred and forty quarts
of wine and thirty-two of water.—This is all written
in the morning, before I go to the secretary, as I am
now doing. I have answered your letter a little
shorter than ordinary; but I have a mind it should
go to-day, and I will give you my journal at night
in my next, for I am so afraid of another letter be-
fore this goes: I will never have two together again
unanswered. What care I for Dr. Tisdall and Dr.
Raymond, or how many children they have? I wish
they had a hundred apiece. Lord-treasurer pro-
mises me to answer the bishop's letter to-morrow,
and show it me; and I believe it will confirm all
I said, and mortify those that threw the merit
on the duke of Ormond. For I have made him
jealous of it; and t'other day, talking of the matter,
he said, "I am your witness you got it for them be-
fore the duke was lord-lieutenant." My humble ser-
vice to Mrs. Walls, Mrs. Stoyte, and Catherine.
Farewell, &c.
What do you do when you see any literal mistakes
in my letters? how do you set them right? for I
never read them over to correct them. Farewell
again.
Pray send this note to Mrs. Brent, to get the
money when Parvisol comes to town, or she can
send to him.
LETTER THE THIRTY-FIRST.
London, Sept. 25, 1711.
I DINED in the city to-day, and at my return I put
my thirtieth into the post-office; and when I got
home I found for me one of the noblest letters I ever
read; it was from ; three sides and a half in
folio, on a large sheet of paper; the two first pages
made up of satire upon London, and crowds and
hurry, stolen from some of his own schoolboy's ex-
ercises: the side and a half remaining is spent in
desiring me to recommend Mrs. South, your com-
missioner's widow, to my lord-treasurer for a pen-
sion. He is the prettiest, discreetest fellow that
ever my eyes beheld, or that ever dipped pen into
ink. I know not what to say to him. A pox on
him! I have too many such customers on this side
already. I think I will send him word that I never
saw my lord-treasurer in my life: I am sure I in-
dustriously avoided the name of any great person
a Somewhat or other which Stella's mother had consented to.
26. Bernage has been with me these two days;
yesterday I sent for him to let him know that Dr.
Arbuthnot is putting in strongly to have his brother
made a captain over Bernage's head. Arbuthnot's
brother is but an ensign; but the doctor has great
power with the queen: yet he told me he would not
do anything hard to a gentleman who is my friend ;
and I have engaged the secretary and his colonel for
him. To-day he told me very melancholy that the
other had written from Windsor (where he went to
solicit) that he has got the company: and Bernage
is full of the spleen. I made the secretary write
yesterday a letter to the colonel in Bernage's behalf.
I hope it will do yet; and I have written to Dr.
Arbuthnot to Windsor, not to insist on doing such a
! hardship. I dined in the city at Pontack's, with
Stratford; it cost me seven shillings: he would have
treated, but I did not let him. I have removed my
Parvisol may speak to Hawkshaw to
money from the bank to another fund. I desired
money when he can, for I will put it in the funds,
pay in my
and, in the mean time, borrow so much of Mr. Se-
cretary, who offers to lend it me. Go to the dean's,
sirrahs.
27. Bernage was with me again to-day, and is in
great fear, and so was I; but this afternoon, at
lord-treasurer's, where I dined, my brother, George
Granville, secretary at war, after keeping me a while
in suspense, told me that Dr. Arbuthnot had waved
the business because he would not wrong a friend of
mine; that his brother is to be a lieutenant, and
Bernage is made a captain. I called at his lodging,
and the soldier's coffeehouse, to put him out of pain,
but cannot find him; so I have left word, and shall
see him to-morrow morning, I suppose. Bernage is
now easy; he has ten shillings a-day, beside lawful
cheating. However, he gives a private sum to his
214
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
colonel, but it is very cheap: his colonel loves him
well, but is surprised to see him have so many
friends. So he is now quite off my hands. I left
the company early to-night, at lord-treasurer's; but
the secretary followed me, to desire I would go with
him to W. Mr. Lewis's man came in before I
could finish that word beginning with a W, which
ought to be Windsor, and brought me a very hand-
some rallying letter from Dr. Arbuthnot, to tell him
he had, in compliance to me, given up his brother's
pretensions in favour of Bernage this very morning;
that the queen had spoken to Mr. Granville to make
the company easy in the other's having the captain-
ship. Whether they have done it to oblige me or
no, I must own it so. He says he this very morning
begged her majesty to give Mr. Bernage the com-
pany. I am mighty well pleased to have succeeded
so well; but you will think me tedious, although
you like the man, as I think.
Windsor, 28. I came here a day sooner than ordi-
nary, at Mr. Secretary's desire, and supped with him
and Prior, and two private ministers from France,
and a French priest. I know not the two ministers'
names, but they are come about the peace. The
names the secretary called them, I suppose, were
feigned; they were good rational men. We have
already settled all things with France, and very much
to the honour and advantage of England; and the
queen is in mighty good humour. All this news is
a mighty secret; the people in general know that a
peace is forwarding. The earl of Strafford is to go
soon to Holland, and let them know what we have
been doing; and then there will be the devil and
all to pay; but we'll make them swallow it with
a pox.
The French ministers stayed with us till
one, and the secretary and I sat up talking till two;
so you will own 'tis late, sirrahs, and time for your
little saucy Presto to go to bed and sleep adazy; and
God bless poor little MD: I hope they are now fast
asleep, and dreaming of Presto.
29. Lord-treasurer came to-night, as usual, at
half an hour after eight, as dark as pitch. I am
weary of chiding him; so I commended him for ob-
serving his friend's advice, and coming so early, &c.
I was two hours with lady Oglethorp to-night, and
then supped with lord-treasurer, after dining at the
green cloth: I stayed till two; this is the effect of
lord-treasurer being here; I must sup with him,
and he keeps cursed hours. Lord-keeper and the
secretary were absent; they cannot sit up with him.
This long sitting up makes the periods of my letters
so short. I design to stay here all the next week,
to be at leisure by myself, to finish something of
weight I have upon my hands, and which must soon
be done. I shall then think of returning to Ireland,
if these people will let me; and I know nothing
else they have for me to do. I gave Dr. Arbuthnot
my thanks for his kindness to Bernage, whose com-
mission is now signed. Methinks
Methinks I long to know
something of Stella's health, how it continues after
Wexford waters.
30. The queen was not at chapel to-day, and all
for the better, for we had a dunce to preach: she
has a little of the gout. I dined with my brother
Masham and a moderate company, and would not
go to lord-treasurer's till after supper at eleven
o'clock, and pretended I had mistaken the hour; so
I ate nothing; and a little after twelve the company
broke up, the keeper and secretary refusing to stay;
so I saved this night's debauch. Prior went away
yesterday with his Frenchmen, and a thousand re-
ports are raised in this town. Some said they knew
one to be the abbé de Polignac: others swore it was
the abbé du Bois. The Whigs are in a rage about
the peace; but we'll wherret them, I warrant, boys.
Go, go, go to the dean's, and don't mind politics,
young women, they are not good after the waters;
they are stark naught: they strike up into the head.
Go, get two black aces, and fish for a manilio.
October 1. Sir John Walters, an honest drunken
fellow, is now in waiting, and invited me to the
green cloth to-day, that he might not be behindhand
with colonel Godfrey, who is a Whig. I was en-
gaged to the mayor's feast with Mr. Masham; but
waiting to take leave of lord-treasurer, I came too
late, and so returned sneaking to the green cloth,
and did not see my lord-treasurer neither; but was
resolved not to lose two dinners for him. I took
leave to-day of my friend and solicitor, lord Rivers,
who is commanded by the queen to set out for
Hanover on Thursday. The secretary does not go
to town till to-morrow; he and I, and two friends
more, drank a sober bottle of wine here at home,
and parted at twelve; he goes by seven to-morrow
morning, so I shall not see him. I have power over
his cellar in his absence, and make little use of it.
Lord Dartmouth and my friend Lewis stay here this
week; but I can never work out a dinner from
Dartmouth. Masham has promised to provide for
me: I squired his lady out of her chaise to-day, and
must visit her in a day or two. So you have had a
long fit of the finest weather in the world; but I am
every day in pain that it will go off. I have done
no business to-day: I am very idle.
2. My friend Lewis and I, to avoid over much
eating and great tables, dined with honest Jemmy
Eckershall, clerk of the kitchen, now in waiting;
and I bespoke my dinner: but the cur had your ac-
quaintance Lovet, the gentleman porter, to be our
company. Lovet, toward the end of dinner, after
twenty wrigglings, said he had the honour to see
me formerly at Moor-park, and thought he remem-
bered my face. I said I thought I remembered him,
and was glad to see him, &c., and I escaped for that
much, for he was very pert. It has rained all this
day, and I doubt our good weather is gone. I have
been very idle this afternoon, playing at twelvepenny
picquet with Lewis: I won seven shillings, which
is the only money I won this year: I have not
played above four times, and I think always at
Windsor. Cards are very dear: there is a duty
on them of sixpence a pack, which spoils small
gamesters.
3. Mr. Masham sent this morning to desire I
would ride out with him, the weather growing again
very fine. I was very busy, and sent my excuses,
but desired he would provide me a dinner. I dined
with him, his lady, and her sister Mrs. Hill, who
invites us to-morrow to dine with her, and we are
to ride out in the morning. I sat with lady Ogle-
thorp till eight this evening, then was going home
to write; looked about for the woman that keeps
the key of the house: she told me Patrick had it.
I cooled my heels in the cloisters till nine, then
went in to the music meeting, where I had been
often desired to go; but was weary in half an hour
of their fine stuff, and stole out so privately that
everybody saw me; and cooled my heels in the
cloisters again till after ten: then came in Patrick.
I went up, shut the chamber-door, and gave him two
or three swingeing cuffs on the ear, and I have strained
the thumb of my left hand with pulling him, which
I did not feel until he was gone. He was plaguily
afraid and humbled.
4. It was the finest day in the world, and we got
The
out before eleven, a noble caravan of us.
duchess of Shrewsbury in her own chaise with one
• Swift, like some others, rather hated than loved music.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
215
I
horse, and miss Touchet with her; Mrs. Masham
and Mrs. Scarborow, one of the dressers, in one of
the queen's chaises: miss Forester and miss Scar-
borow, two maids of honour, and Mrs. Hill on
horseback. The duke of Shrewsbury, Mr. Masham,
George Fielding, Arbuthnot, and I, on horseback
too. Mrs. Hill's horse was hired for miss Scarbo-
row, but she took it in civility, her own horse was
galled, and could not be rid, but kicked and winced:
the hired horse was not worth eighteenpence.
borrowed coat, boots, and horse, and in short we
had all the difficulties and more than we used to
have in making a party from Trim to Longfield's."
My coat was light camlet, faced with red velvet, and
silver buttons. We rode in the great park and the
forest about a dozen miles, and the duchess and I
had much conversation; we got home by two, and
Mr. Masham, his lady, Arbuthnot, and I, dined with
Mrs. Hill. Arbuthnot made us all melancholy, by
some symptoms of bloody urine: he expects a cruel
fit of the stone in twelve hours; he says he is never
mistaken, and he appears like a man that is to be
racked to-morrow.
I cannot but hope it will not
be so bad; he is a perfectly honest man, and one I
have much obligation to. It rained a little this af-
ternoon, and grew fair again. Lady Oglethorp sent
to speak to me, and it was to let me know that lady
Rochester desires she and I may be better acquainted.
'Tis a little too late: for I am not now in love with
lady Rochester: they shame me out of her, because
she is old. Arbuthnot says he hopes my strained
thumb is not the gout; for he has often found
people so mistaken. I do not remember the
ticular thing that gave it me, only I had it just after
beating Patrick, and now it is better; so I believe
he is mistaken.
par-
5. The duchess of Shrewsbury sent to invite me to
dinner; but I was abroad last night when her ser-
vant came, and this morning I sent my excuses, be-
cause I was engaged, which I was sorry for. Mrs.
Forester taxed me yesterday about the History of
the Maids of Honour; but I told her fairly it was no
jest of mine, for I found they did not relish it alto-
gether well; and I have enough already of a quarrel
with that brute sir John Walters, who has been rail-
ing at me in all companies ever since I dined with
him, that I abused the queen's meat and drink, and
said nothing at the table was good, and all a d—d lie ;
for after dinner, commending the wine, I said I
thought it was something small. You would wonder
how all my friends laugh at this quarrel. It will be
such a jest for the keeper, treasurer, and secretary.
-I dined with honest colonel Godfrey, took a good
walk of an hour on the terrace, and then came up
to study; but it grows bloody cold, and I have no
waistcoat here.
6. I never dined with the chaplains till to-day;
but my friend Gastrel and the dean of Rochester
had often invited me, and I happened to be disen-
gaged: it is the worst provided table at court.
We
ate on pewter: every chaplain, when he is made a
dean, gives a piece of plate, and so they have got a
little, some of it very old. One who was made dean
of Peterborow (a small deanery) said he would
give no plate; he was only dean of Pewterborow.
The news of Mr. Hill's miscarriage in his expedition
came to-day, and I went to visit Mrs. Masham and
Mrs. Hill, his two sisters, to condole with them. I
advised them by all means to go to the music-meet-
ing to night, to show they were not cast down, &c.,
and they thought my advice was right, and went.
I doubt Mr. Hill and his admiral made wrong steps:
Mr. Longfield lived at Killibride, about four miles from
Trim
however, we lay it all to a storm, &c. I sat with the
secretary at supper; then we both went to lord-
treasurer's supper and sat till twelve. The secretary
is much mortified about Hill; because this expedi-
tion was of his contriving, and he counted much
upon it; but lord-treasurer was just as merry as
usual, and old laughing at sir John Walters and me
falling out. I said, nothing grieved me, but that
they would take example, and perhaps presume upon
it, and get out of my government; but that I thought
I was not obliged to govern bears, though I governed
men. They promise to be as obedient as ever, and
so we laughed ;-and so I go to bed; for it is colder
still, and you have a fire now, and are at cards at home.
7. Lord Harley and I dined privately to-day with
Mrs. Masham and Mrs. Hill and my brother Ma-
sham. I saw lord Halifax at court, and we joined
and talked; and the duchess of Shrewsbury came
up and reproached me for not dining with her. I
said that was not so soon done; for I expected more
advances from ladies, especially duchesses: she pro-
mised to comply with any demands I please; and I
agreed to dine with her to-morrow, if I did not go
to London too soon, as I believe I shall before din-
ner. Lady Oglethorp brought me and the duchess of
Hamilton together to-day in the drawing-room, and
I have given her some encouragement, but not much.
Everybody has been teasing Walters. He told lord-
treasurer that he took his company from him that were
to dine with him: my lord said, I will send you Dr.
Swift: lord-keeper bid him take care what he did
for, said he, Dr. Swift is not only all our favourite,
but our governor. The old company supped with
lord-treasurer, and got away by twelve.
;
London, 8. I believe I shall go no more to Wind-
sor, for we expect the queen will come in ten days
to Hampton-court. It was frost last night, and cruel
cold to-day. I could not dine with the duchess, for
I left Windsor half an hour after one with lord-
treasurer, and we called at Kensington, where Mrs.
Masham was got to see her children for two days. I
dined, or rather supped, with lord-treasurer, and
stayed till after ten. Tisdall and his family are gone
from hence, upon some wrangle with the family.
Yesterday I had two letters brought me to Mr.
Masham's; one from Ford, and t'other from our
little MD, No. 21. I would not tell you till to-day,
because I would not. I won't answer it till the next,
because I have slipped two days by being at Wind-
sor, which I must recover here. Well, sirrahs, I must
go to sleep. The roads were as dry as at midsummer
to-day. This letter shall go to-morrow.
9. Morning. It rains hard this morning. I sup-
pose our fair weather is now at an end. I think I'll
put on my waistcoat to-day: shall I? Well, I will
then, to please MD. I think of dining at home to-
day upon a chop and a pot. The town continues
yet very thin. Lord Strafford is gone to Holland,
to tell them what we have done here toward a peace.
We shall soon hear what the Dutch say, and how
they take it. My humble service to Mrs. Walls, Mrs.
Stoyte, and Catherine. Morrow, dearest sirrahs,
and farewell; and God Almighty bless MD, poor
little dear MD, for so I mean, and Presto too. I'll
write to you again to-night, that is, I'll begin my next
letter. Farewell, &c.
This little bit belongs to MD; we must always
write on the margin: you are saucy rogues.
LETTER THE THIRTY-SECOND.
London, Oct. 9, 1711.
I was forced to lie down at twelve to-day, and mend
my night's sleep: I slept till after two, and then sent
216
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
I
for a bit of mutton and pot of ale from the next,
cook's shop, and had no stomach. I went out at
four, and called to see Biddy Floyd, which I had not
done these three months: she is something marked,
but has recovered her complexion quite, and looks
very well. Then I sat the evening with Mrs. Van-
homrigh, and drank coffee, and ate an egg. I like-
wise took a new lodging to-day, not liking a ground-
floor, nor the ill smell, and other circumstances.
lodge, or shall lodge, by Leicester-fields, and pay ten
shillings a week; that won't hold out long, faith. I
shall lie here but one night more. It rained terribly
till one o'clock to-day. I lie, for I shall lie here two
nights, till Thursday, and then remove. Did I tell
you that myfriend Mrs. Barton has a brother drowned,
that went on the expedition with Jack Hill? He
was a lieutenant-colonel, and a coxcomb; and she
keeps her chamber in form, and the servants say she
receives no messages.-Answer MD's letter, Presto,
d'ye hear? No, says Presto, I won't yet, I'm busy;
you're a saucy rogue. Who talks?
I
10. It cost me two shillings in coach-hire to dine
in the city with a printer. I have sent, and caused
to be sent, three pamphlets out in a fortnight. I
will ply the rogues warm; and whenever anything
of theirs makes a noise it shall have an answer.
have instructed an under spur-leather to write so
that it is taken for mine. A rogue that writes a
newspaper, called the Protestant Post-boy, has re-
flected on me in one of his papers; but the secretary
has taken him up, and he shall have a squeeze ex-
traordinary. He says that an ambitious tantivy, miss-
ing of his towering hopes of preferment in Ireland,
is come over to vent his spleen on the late ministry,
&c. I'll tantivy him with a vengeance. I sat the
evening at home, and am very busy, and can hardly
find time to write, unless it were to MD. I am in
furious haste.
11. I dined to-day with lord-treasurer. Thursdays
are now his days when his choice company comes,
but we are too much multiplied. George Granville
sent his excuses upon being ill; I hear he appre-
hends the apoplexy, which would grieve me much.
Lord-treasurer calls Prior nothing but Monsieur
Baudrier, which was the feigned name of the French-
man that writ his Journey to Paris. They pretend
to suspect me, so I talk freely of it, and put them
out of their play. Lord-treasurer calls me now
Dr. Martin, because martina is a sort of swallow,
and so is a swift. When he and I came last Mon-
day from Windsor, we were reading all the signs on
the road. Hs is a pure trifler; tell the bishop of
Clogher so. I made him make two lines in verse
for the Bell and Dragon, and they were rare bad
ones. I suppose Dilly
Dilly is with you by this time:
what could his reason be of leaving London, and not
owning it? 'Twas plaguy silly. I believe his natu-
ral inconstancy made him weary. I think he is the
king of inconstancy. I stayed with lord-treasurer
till ten; we had five lords and three commoners.
Go to ombre, sirrahs.
12. Mrs. Vanhomrigh has changed her lodging as
well as I. She found she had got with a bawd, and
removed. I dined with her to-day; for though she
boards, her landlady does not dine with her. I am
grown a mighty lover of herrings; but they are
much smaller here than with you. In the afternoon
I visited an old major-general, and eat six oysters;
then sat an hour with Mrs. Colledge, the joiner's
daughter that was hanged; it was the joiner was
hanged, and not his daughter; with Thompson's
wife, a magistrate. There was the famous Mrs.
From this pleasantry of lord Oxford the appellative Mar
tinus Scriblerus took its rise.
I
Floyd of Chester, who, I think, is the handsomest
woman (except MD) that ever I saw. She told me
that twenty people had sent her the verses upon
Biddy, as meant to her: and, indeed, in point of
handsomeness, she deserves them much better.
will not go to Windsor to-morrow, and so I told the
secretary to-day. I hate the thoughts of Saturday
and Sunday suppers with lord-treasurer. Jack Hill
is come home from his unfortunate expedition, and
is, I think, now at Windsor: I have not yet seen
him. He is privately blamed by his own friends for
want of conduct. He called a council of war, and
therein it was determined to come back. But they
say a general should not do that, because the officers
will always give their opinion for returning, since
the blame will not lie upon them, but the general.
I pity him heartily. Bernage received his commis-
sion to-day.
13. I dined to-day with colonel Crowe, late go-
vernor of Barbadoes; he is a great acquaintance of
your friend Sterne, to whom I trusted the box. Lord-
treasurer has refused Sterne's business, and I doubt
he is a rake; Jemmy Leigh stays for him, and no-
body knows where to find him. I am so busy now
I have hardly time to spare to write to our little MD;
but in a fortnight I hope it will be over. I am going
now to be busy, &c.
14. I was going to dine with Dr. Cockburn, but
sir Andrew Fountaine met me, and carried me to
Mrs. Van's, where I drank the last bottle of Ray-
mond's wine, admirable good, better than any I get
among the ministry. I must pick up time to answer
this letter of MD's; I'll do it in a day or two for
certain.—I am glad I am not at Windsor, for it is
very cold, and I won't have a fire till November. I
am contriving how to stop up my grate with bricks.
Patrick was drunk last night; but did not come to
me, else I should have given him t'other cuff. I
sat this evening with Mrs. Barton; it is the first day
of her seeing company; but I made her merry enough,
and we were three hours disputing upon Whig and
Tory. She grieved for her brother only for form,
and he was a sad dog. Is Stella well enough to go to
church, pray? no numbings left? no darkness in
your eyes? do you walk and exercise? Your exer-
cise is ombre.- -People are coming up to town :
the queen will be at Hampton-court in a week.
Lady Betty Germain, I hear, is come; and lord
Pembroke is coming: his new wife is as big with
child as she can tumble.
15. I sat at home till four this afternoon to-day
writing, and ate a roll and butter; then visited Will.
Congreve an hour or two, and supped with lord-trea-
surer, who came from Windsor to-day, and brought
Prior with him. The queen has thanked Prior
for his good service in France, and promised to make
him a commissioner of the customs. Several of that
commission are to be out: among the rest, my friend
sir Matthew Dudley. I can do nothing for him, he
is so hated by the ministry. Lord-treasurer kept me
till twelve, so I need not tell you it is now late.
16. I dined to-day with Mr. Secretary at Dr.
Cotesworth's, where he now lodges till his house be
got ready in Golden-square. One Boyer, a French
dog, has abused me in a pamphlet, and I have got
him up in a messenger's hands: the secretary pro-
mises me to swinge him. Lord-treasurer told me
last night that he had the honour to be abused with
me in a pamphlet. I must make that rogue an ex-
ample, for warning to others. I was to see Jack
Hill this morning, who made that unfortunate expe-
dition; and there is still more misfortune; for that
ship, which was admiral of his fleet, is blown in
the Thames, by an accident and carelessness of some
up
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
217
rogue, who was going, as they think, to steal some
We don't
gunpowder: five hundred men are lost.
yet know the particulars. I am got home by seven,
and am going to be busy, and you are going to play
and supper; you live ten times happier than I; but
I should live ten times happier than you if I were
with MD. I saw Jemmy Leigh to-day in the street,
who tells me that Sterne has not lain above once these
three weeks in his lodgings, and he doubts he takes
ill courses; he stays only till he can find Sterne to
go along with him, and he cannot hear of him.
begged him to inquire about the box when he comes
to Chester, which he promises.
I
17. The secretary and I dined to-day with briga-
dier Britton, a great friend of his. The lady of the
house is very gallant, about thirty-five; she is said
to have a great deal of wit; but I see nothing among
any of them that equals MD by a bar's length, as
hope saved. My lord-treasurer is much out of order;
he has a sore throat, and the gravel, and a pain in
his breast where the wound was pray God preserve
him. The queen comes to Hampton-court on Tues-
day next; people are coming fast to town, and I must
answer MD's letter, which I can hardly find time to
do, though I am at home the greatest part of the day.
Lady Betty Germain and I were disputing Whig
and Tory to death this morning. She is grown very
fat, and looks mighty well. Biddy Floyd was there,
and she is, I think, very much spoiled with the
small-pox.
18. Lord-treasurer is still out of order, and that
breaks our method of dining there to-day. He is
often subject to a sore throat, and some time or other
it will kill him, unless he takes more care than he is
apt to do. It was said about the town that poor lord
Peterborow was dead at Frankfort; but he is some-
thing better, and the queen is sending him to Italy,
where I hope the warm climate will recover him:
he has abundance of excellent qualities, and we love
one another mightily. I was this afternoon in the
city, ate a bit of meat, and settled some things with
a printer. I will answer your letter on Saturday, if
possible, and then send away this; so to fetch up the
odd days I lost at Windsor, and keep constant to my
fortnight. Ombre-time is now coming on, and we
shall have nothing but Manley, and Walls, and
Stoytes, and the dean. Have you got no new ac-
quaintance? Poor girls; nobody knows MD's good
qualities. 'Tis very cold; but I will not have a fire
till November, that's pozz. Well, but coming home
to-night I found on my table a letter from MD;
faith I was angry, that is with myself; and I was
afraid too to see MD's hand so soon, for fear of
something, I don't know what at last I opened it,
and it was over well, and a bill for the two hundred
guineas. However, 'tis a sad thing that this letter
is not gone, nor your twenty-first answered yet.
19. I was invited to-day to dine with Mrs. Van,
with some company who did not come; but I ate
nothing but herrings: you must know I hardly ever
eat of above one thing, and that the plainest ordi-
nary meat at table; I love it best, and believe it
wholesomest. You love rarities; yes you do; I
wish you had all that I ever see where I go. I was
coming home early and met the secretary in his
chair, who persuaded me to go with him to Britton's;
for he said he had been all day at business, and had
eaten nothing. So I went, and the time passed so
that we stayed till two, so you may believe 'tis late
enough.
20. This day has gone all wrong, by sitting up so
late last night. Lord-treasurer is not yet well, and
can't go to Windsor. I dined with sir Matthew
I dined with sir Matthew
Dudley, and took occasion to hint to him that he
sorry.
would lose his employment, for which I am very
Lord Pembroke and his family are all come
to town. I was kept so long at a friend's this
evening that I cannot send this to-night. When I
knocked at my lodgings, a fellow asked me where
lodged Dr. Swift? I told him I was the person :
he gave me a letter he brought from the secretary's
office, and I gave him a shilling: when I came up I
saw Dingley's hand: faith I was afraid, I do not
know what. At last it was a formal letter from
Dingley about her exchequer business. Well, I'll
do it on Monday, and settle it with Tooke. And
now boys, for your letter, I mean the first, No. 21.
Let's see; come out, little letter. I never had the
letter from the bishop that Raymond mentions; but
I have written to Ned Southwell, to desire the duke
of Ormond to speak to his reverence, that he may
leave off his impertinence. What a pox, can they
think I am doing for the archbishop here? You have
a pretty notion of me in Ireland, to make me an
agent for the archbishop of Dublin. Why; do you
think I value your people's ingratitude about my
part in serving them? I remit thein their first-fruits
of ingratitude as freely as I got the other remitted
to them. This lord-treasurer defers writing his let-
ter to them, or else they would be plaguily con-
founded by this time. For he designs to give the
merit of it wholly to the queen and me, and to let
them know it was done before the duke of Ormond
was lord-lieutenant. You visit, you dine abroad,
you see friends; you pilgarlic; you walk from Fin-
glass, you a cat's foot. O Lord-lady Gore hung
her child by the waist; what is that waist? I don't
understand the word: he must hang on till you
explain or spell it. I don't believe he was pretty,
that's a liiii. Pish! burn your first-fruits; again at
it!
Stella has made twenty false spellings in her
writing; I'll send them to you all back again on the
other side of this letter, to mend them; I won't miss
one. Why; I think there were seventeen bishops'
names to the letter lord Oxford received. I will
send you some pamphlets by Leigh; put me in mind
of it on Monday, for I shall go then to the printer;
yes, and the Miscellany. I am mightily obliged to
Walls, but I don't deserve it by any usage of him
here, having seen him but twice, and once en passant.
Mrs. Manley forsworn ombre! What; and no blaz-
ing star appear? no monsters born? no whale thrown
up? have you not found out some evasion for her?
She had no such regard to oaths in her younger
days. I got the books for nothing, madam Dingley;
but the wine I got not; it was but a promise. Yes,
my head is pretty well in the main, only now and
then a little threatening or so. You talk of my re-
conciling some great folks. I tell you what.
secretary told me last night that he had found the
reason why the queen was cold to him for some
months past; that a friend had told it him yesterday;
and it was that they suspected he was at the bottom
with the duke of Marlborough. Then he said he
had reflected upon all I had spoken to him long
ago; but he thought it had been only my suspicion
and my zeal and kindness for him. I said I had
reason to take that very ill, to imagine I knew so
little of the world as to talk at a venture to a great
minister; that I had gone between him and lord-
treasurer often, and told each of them what I had
said to the other, and that I had informed him so
before he said all that you may imagine to excuse
himself and approve my conduct. I told him I
knew all along that this proceeding of mine was the
surest way to send me back to my willows in Ire-
land, but that I regarded it not, provided I could
do the kingdom service in keeping them well toge-
The
218
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
1
ther. I minded him how often I had told lord-
treasurer, lord-keeper, and him together, that all
things depended on their union, and that my comfort
was to see them love one another; and I had told
them all singly that I had not said this by chance,
&c. He was in a rage to be thus suspected; swears
he will be upon a better foot, or none at all; and I
do not see how they can well want him in this
juncture. I hope to find a way of settling this mat-
ter. I act an honest part that will bring me nei-
ther profit nor praise. MD must think the better of
MD must think the better of
me for it nobody else shall know of it. Here's
politics enough for once; but madam D. D. gave
me occasion for it. I think I told you I have got
into lodgings that don't smell ill.-O Lord! the
spectacles: well, I'll do that on Monday too; al-
though it goes against me to be employed for folks
that neither you nor I care a groat for. Is the eight
pounds from Hawkshaw included in the thirty-nine
pounds five shillings and twopence? How do I
know by this how my account stands? Can't you
write five or six lines to cast it up? Mine is forty-
four pounds per annum, and eight pounds from
Hawkshaw makes fifty-two pounds. Pray set it
right, and let me know; you had best. And so
now I have answered No. 21, and 'tis late, and I
will answer No. 22 in my next: this cannot go to-
night, but shall on Tuesday: and so go to your play,
and lose your money, with your two eggs a penny;
silly jade; you witty? very pretty.
21. Mrs. Van would have me dine with her again
to-day, and so I did, though lady Mountjoy has sent
two or three times to have me see and dine with her,
and she is a little body I love
love very well. My head
has ached a little in the evenings these three or four
days, but it is not of the giddy sort, so I do not much
value it. I was to see lord Harley to-day, but lord-
treasurer took physic and I could not see him. He
has voided much gravel, and is better, but not well;
he talks of going on Tuesday to see the queen at
Hampton Court; I wish he may be able. I never
saw so fine a summer-day as this was: how is it
with you, pray? and can't you remember, naughty
packs? I han't seen lord Pembroke yet. He will
be sorry to miss Dilly: I wonder you say nothing of
Dilly's being got to Ireland; if he be not there soon,
I shall have some certain odd thoughts: guess them
if you can.
22. I dined in the city to-day with Dr. Freind,
at one of my printers': I inquired for Leigh, but
could not find him : I have forgot what sort of apron
you want. I must rout among your letters, a needle
in a bottle of hay. I gave Sterne directions, but
where to find him Lord knows. I have bespoken
the spectacles; got a set of Examiners, and five
pamphlets, which I have either written or contributed
to, except the best, which is the vindication of the
duke of Marlborough, and is entirely of the author
of the Atalantis. I have settled Dingley's affair
with Tooke, who has undertaken it, and understands
it. I have bespoken a Miscellany, what would you
have me do more? It cost me a shilling coming
home: it rains terribly, and did so in the morning.
Lord-treasurer has had an ill day, in much pain.
He writes and docs business in his chamber now he
is ill the man is bewitched: he desires to see me,
and I'll maul him, but he will not value it a rush.
I am half weary of them all. I often burst out into
these thoughts, and will certainly steal away as soon
as I decently can. I have many friends and many
enemies; and the last are more constant in their
nature. I have no shuddering at all to think of
retiring to my old circumstances, if you can be easy;
but I will always livo in Ireland as I did the last
:
time; I will not hunt for dinners there: nor con-
verse with more than a very few.
23. Morning. This goes to-day, and shall be
sealed by and by. Lord-treasurer takes physic again
to-day; I believe I shall dine with lord Dupplin.
Mr. Tooke brought me a letter directed for me at
Morphew's, the bookseller. I suppose, by the
postage, it came from Ireland; it is a woman's hand,
and seems false spelt on purpose; it is in such sort
of verse as Harris's petition; rallies me for writing
merry things, and not upon divinity; and is like the
subject of the archbishop's last letter, as I told you.
Can you guess whom it came from? it is not ill-
written; pray find it out; there is a Latin verse at
the end of it all rightly spelt; yet the English, as
I think, affectedly wrong in many places. My
plaguing time is coming. A young fellow brought me
a letter from judge Coote, with recommendation to
He is the son of one
be lieutenant of a man-of-war.
Echlin, who was minister of Belfast before Tisdall,
and I have got some other new customers; but I
shall trouble my friends as little as possible. Saucy
Stella used to jeer me for meddling with other folks'
affairs; but now I am punished for it.-Patrick has
brought the candle, and I have no more room. Fare-
well, &c. &c.
Here is a full and true account of Stella's new
Plaguely,
Dineing,
Straingers,
Chais,
Waist,
Houer,
Immagin,
A bout,
Intellegence,
Aboundance,
Merrit,
Secreet,
Phamphlets,
Bussiness,
spelling.
•
Plaguily.a
Dining.
Strangers.
Chase."
Wast.
Hour.
Imagine.
About.
Intelligence.
Abundance.
Merit.
Secret.
Pamphlets.
Business.
Tell me truly, sirrah, how many of these are mistakes
of the pen, and how many are you to answer for as
real ill-spelling? There are but fourteen: I said
twenty by guess. You must not be angry, for I will
have you spell right, let the world go how it will.
Though, after all, there is but a mistake of one letter
in any of these words. I allow
I allow you henceforth but
six false spellings in every letter you send me.
LETTER THE THIRTY-THIRD.
London, Oct. 23, 1711.
I DINED with lord Dupplin as I told you I would,
and put my 32nd into the post-office my own self;
and I believe there has not been one moment since
we parted wherein a letter was not upon the road
going or coming to or from PMD [Presto and MD.]
If the queen knew it she would give us a pension;
for it is we bring good luck to their post-boys and
their packets; else they would break their necks
and sink. But an old saying and a true one :-
Be it snow, or storm, or hail,
PMI's letters never fail;
Cross winds may sometimes make them tarry,
But PMD's letters can't miscarry.
Terrible rain to-day, but it cleared up at night
enough to save my twelvepence coming home. Lord-
treasurer is much better this evening. I hate to
have him ill, he is so confoundedly careless. I won't
answer your letter yet, so be satisfied.
This column of words, as they are corrected, is in Stella's
hand.
b Fulsely spelt.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
219
24. I called at lord-treasurer's to-day at noon; he
was eating some broth in his bedchamber, undressed,
with a thousand papers about him. He has a little
fever upon him, and his eye terribly bloodshot; yet
he dressed himself and went out to the treasury.
He told me he had a letter from a lady with a com-
plaint against me; it was from Mrs. Cutts, a sister of
lord Cutts, who writ to him that I had abused her
brother: you remember the Salamander;" it is
it is
printed in the Miscellany. I told my lord that I
would never regard complaints, and that I expected,
whenever he received any against me, he would im-
mediately put them into the fire and forget them,
else I should have no quiet. I had a little turn in
my head this morning; which, though it did not
last above a moment, yet, being of the true sort, has
made me as weak as a dog all this day. 'Tis the
first I have had this half-year. I shall take my pills
if I hear of it again. I dined at lady Mountjoy's
with Harry Coote, and I went to see lord Pembroke
upon his coming to town.-The Whig party are
furious against a peace, and every day some ballad
comes out reflecting on the ministry on that account.
The secretary St. John has seized on a dozen book-
sellers and publishers into his messengers' hands.
Some of the foreign ministers have published the
preliminaries agreed on here between France and
England; and people rail at them as insufficient to
treat a peace upon; but the secret is, that the French
have agreed to articles much more important, which
our ministers have not communicated, and the peo-
ple, who think they know all, are discontented that
they know no more. This was an inconvenience I
foretold to the secretary; but we could contrive no
way to fence against it. So there's politics for you.
25. The queen is at Hampton-court: she went
on Tuesday, in that terrible` rain. I dined with
Lewis at his lodgings, to despatch some business we
had. I sent this morning and evening to lord-trea-
surer, and he is much worse by going out; I am in
pain about evening. He has sent for Dr. Ratcliffe;
pray God preserve him. The chancellor of the ex-
chequer showed me to-day a ballad in manuscript
against lord-treasurer and his South Sea project; it
is very sharply written; if it be not printed I will
if it be not printed I will
send it you. If it be, it shall go in your packet of
pamphlets. I found out your letter about directions
for the apron, and have ordered to be bought a cheap
green silk work apron; I have it by heart. I sat
this evening with Mrs. Barton, who is my near
neighbour. It was a delicious day, and I got my
walk, and was thinking whether MD was walking
too just at that time that Presto was.-This paper
does not cost me a farthing; I have it from the
secretary's office. I long till to-morrow to know
how my lord-treasurer sleeps this night, and to hear
he mends: we are all undone without him; so pray
for him, sirrahs, and don't stay too late at the
dean's.
:
26. I dined with Mrs. Van; for the weather is
so bad, and I am so busy that I cannot dine with
great folks and besides, I dare eat but little, to
keep my head in order, which is better. Lord-
treasurer is very ill, but I hope in no danger. We
have no quiet with the Whigs, they are so violent
against a peace; but I'll cool them, with a ven-
geance, very soon. I have not heard from the bi-
shop of Clogher, whether he has got his statues. I I
writ to him six weeks ago; he is so busy with his
parliament. I won't answer your letter yet, say
what you will, saucy girls.
27. I forgot to go about some business this morn-
ng, which cost me double the time; and I was
forced to be at the secretary's office till four, and lose
my dinner; so I went to Mrs. Van's, and made
them get me three herrings, which I am very fond
of, and they are a light victuals: besides, I was to
have supped at lady Ashburnham's; but the drab
did not call for us in her coach, as she promised, but
sent for us, and so I sent my excuses. It has been
a terrible rainy day, but so flattering in the morning
that I would needs go out in my new hat. I met
Leigh and Sterne as I was going into the park.
Leigh says he will go to Ireland in ten days, if he
can get Sterne to go with him; so I will send him
the things for MD, and I have desired him to in-
quire about the box. I hate that Sterne for his
carelessness about it; but it was my fault.
29. I was all this terrible rainy day with my friend
Lewis upon business of importance; and I dined
with him, and came home about seven, and thought
I would amuse myself a little, after the pains I had
taken. I saw a volume of Congreve's plays in my
room, that Patrick had taken to read; and I looked
into it, and in mere loitering read in it till twelve,
like an owl and a fool: if ever I do so again: never
saw the like. Count Gallas, the emperor's envoy,
you will hear, is in disgrace with us: the queen has
ordered her ministers to have no more commerce
with him; the reason is, the fool writ a rude letter
to lord Dartmouth, secretary of state, complaining
of our proceedings about a peace; and he is always
in close confidence with lord Wharton, and Sunder-
land, and others of the late ministry. I believe you
begin to think there will be no peace; the Whigs
here are sure it cannot be, and stocks are fallen
again. But I am confident there will, unless France
plays us tricks; and you may venture a wager with
any of your Whig acquaintance that we shall not
have another campaign. You will get more by it
than by ombre, sirrah.-I let slip telling you yes-
terday's journal, which I thought to have done
this morning, but blundered. I dined yesterday at
Harry Coote's, with lord Hatton, Mr. Finch, a son
of lord Nottingham, and sir Andrew Fountaine.
left them soon; but hear they stayed till two in the
morning, and were all drunk; and so good night
for last night, and good night for to-night. You
blundering goosecap, an't you ashamed to blunder
to young ladies? I shall have a fire in three or four'
days now,-oh, ho.
I
39. I was to-day in the city concerting some
things with a printer, and am to be to-morrow all
day busy with Mr. Secretary about the same [Con-
duct of the Allies]. I won't tell you now; but the
ministers reckon it will do abundance of good, and
open the eyes of the nation, who are half bewitched
against a peace. Few of this generation can re-
member anything but war and taxes, and they think
it is as it should be; whereas 'tis certain we are the
most undone people in Europe, as I am afraid I
shall make appear, beyond all contradiction. But
I forgot; I won't tell you what I will do, nor what
I will not do so let me alone, and go to Stoyte,
and give Goody Stoyte and Catherine my humble
service; I love Goody Stoyte better than Goody
Walls. Who'll pay me for this green apron? I will
have the money; it cost ten shillings and sixpence.
I think it plaguy dear for a cheap thing; but they
said that English silk would cockle, and I know not
what. You have the making into the bargain. 'Tis
right Italian: I have sent it and the pamphlets to
Leigh, and will send the Miscellanies and spectacles
in a day or two. I would send more; but faith I
am plaguy poor at present.
31. The devil's in this secretary; when I went
this morning he had people with him; but, says he,
we are to dine with Prior to-day, and then will do
220
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
all our business in the afternoon at two, Prior
sends word he is otherwise engaged; then the secre-
tary and I go and dine with brigadier Britton, sit
till eight, grow merry, no business done; he is in
haste to see lady Jersey; we part, and appoint no
time to meet again. This is the fault of all the
present ministers, teasing me to death for my assist-
ance, laying the whole weight of their affairs upon
it, yet slipping opportunities. Lord-treasurer mends
every day, though slowly: I hope he will take care
of himself. Pray, will you send to Parvisol to send
me a bill of twenty pounds as soon as he can, for I
want money. I must have money; I will have mo-
ney, sirrahs.
:
November 1. I went to-day into the city to settle
some business with Stratford, and to dine with him;
but he was engaged, and I was so angry I would
not dine with any other merchant, but went to my
printer, and ate a bit, and did business of mischief
with him, and I shall have the spectacles and Mis-
cellany to-morrow, and leave them with Leigh. A
fine day always makes me go into the city, if I can
spare time, because it is exercise; and that does me
more good than anything. I have heard nothing
since of my head, but a little, I don't know how,
sometimes but I am very temperate, especially now
the treasurer is ill, and the ministers often at Hamp-
ton-court, and the secretary not yet fixed in his
house, and I hate dining with many of my old ac-
quaintance. Here has been a fellow discovered
going out of the East India-house with sixteen thou-
sand pounds in money and bills; he would have
escaped if he had not been so uneasy with thirst
that he stole out before his time, and was caught.
But what is that to MD? I wish we had the money,
provided the East India Company was never the
worse; you know we must not covet, &c.
weather for this fortnight past is chequered, a fair
and a rainy day; this was very fine, and I have
walked four miles; wish MD would do so, lazy
sluttikins.
Our
2. It has rained all day with a continuendo, and I
went in a chair to dine with Mrs. Van; always
there in a very rainy day. But I made a shift to
come back afoot. I live a very retired life, pay very
few visits, and keep but very little company; I read
no newspapers. I am sorry I sent you the Exa-
miner, for the printer is going to print them in a
small volume: it seems the author is too proud to
have them printed by subscription, though his friends
offered, they say, to make it worth five hundred
pounds to him.
The Spectators are likewise print-
ing in a larger and smaller volume, so I believe they
are going to leave them off, and indeed people grow
weary of them, though they are often prettily writ-
ten.
We have had no news for me to send you now
toward the end of my letter. The queen has the
gout a little; I hoped the lord-treasurer would have
had it too, but Radcliffe told me yesterday it was the
rheumatism in his knee and foot; however, he
mends, and I hope will be abroad in a short time.
I am told they design giving away several employ-
ments before the parliament șits, which will be the
13th instant. I either do not like or not understand
this policy; and if lord-treasurer does not mend
soon, they must give them just before the sessions.
But he is the greatest procrastinator in the world.
3. A fine day this, and I walked a pretty deal: I
stuffed the secretary's pockets with papers, which
he must read and settle at Hampton-court, where
he went to-day, and stays some time. They have no
lodgings for me there, so I can't go, for the town is
small, chargeable, and inconvenient. Lord-treasurer
had a very ill night last night, with much pain in his
|
knee and foot, but is easier to-day. And so I went
to-day.-And
to visit Prior about some business, and so he was
not within, and so sir Andrew Fountaine made me
dine to-day again with Mrs. Van, and I came home
soon, remembering this must go to-night, and that
I had a letter of MD's to answer. O Lord, where
is it? let me see; so, so, here it is. You grudge
writing so soon. Pox on that bill; the woman
would have me manage that money for her. I do
not know what to do with it now I have it; I am
like the unprofitable steward in the gospel: I laid
it up in a napkin; there thou hast what is thine
own, &c. Well, well, I know of your new mayor.
(I'll tell you a pun; a fishmonger owed a man two
crowns; so he sent him a piece of bad ling and a
tench, and then said he was paid: how is that now?
find it out; for I won't tell it you: which of you
finds it out?) Well, but, as I was saying, what
care I for your mayor? I fancy Ford may tell
Forbes right about my returning to Ireland before
Christmas, or soon after. I'm sorry you did not go
on with your story about "Pray God you be John;"
I never heard it in my life, and wonder what it can
be.-Ah, Stella, faith you leaned upon your Bible
to think what to say when you writ that. Yes,
that story of the secretary's making me an example
is true; "never heard it before ;" why, how could
you hear it? is it possible to tell you the hundredth
part of what passes in our companies here? the se-
I
cretary is as easy with me as Mr. Addison was.
have often thought what a splutter sir William Tem-
ple makes about being made secretary of state; I
think Mr. St. John the greatest young man I ever
knew; wit, capacity, beauty, quickness of appre-
hension, good learning, and an excellent taste; the
best orator in the house of commons, admirable
conversation, good nature, and good manners; ge-
nerous, and a despiser of money. His only fault is
talking to his friends in a way of complaint of too
great a load of business, which looks a little like
affectation; and he endeavours too much to mix the
fine gentleman and man of pleasure with the man
of business. What truth and sincerity he may have
I know not: he is now but thirty-two, and has
been secretary above a year. Is not all this extra-
ordinary? how he stands with the queen and lord-
This is his cha-
treasurer I have told you before.
racter; and I believe you will be diverted by
knowing it. I writ to the archbishop of Dublin,
bishop of Cloyne and of Clogher together, five weeks
ago from Windsor: I hope they had my letters;
pray know if Clogher had his.-Fig for your physi-
cian and his advice, madam Dingley; if I grow
worse, I will; otherwise I will trust to temperance
and exercise: your fall of the leaf; what care I
when the leaves fall? I am sorry to see them fall
with all my heart; but why should I take physic
because leaves fall off from trees? that won't hinder
them from falling. If a man falls from a horse,
must I take physic for that?-This arguing makes
you mad; but it is true right reason, not to be dis-
proved.-I am glad at heart to hear poor Stella is
better; use exercise and walk, spend pattens and
spare potions, wear out clogs and waste claret.
Have you found out my pun of the fishmonger?
don't read a word more till you have got it. And
Stella is handsome again, you say? and is she fat?
I have sent to Leigh the set of Examiners; the first
thirteen were written by several hands, some good,
some bad; the next three-and-thirty were all by
one hand, that makes forty-six: then that author,
whoever he was, laid it down on purpose to con-
found guessers; and the last six were written by a
woman. Then there is "An Account of Guiscard,"
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
221
by the same woman, but the facts sent by Presto.
Then "An Answer to the Letter to the Lords about
Gregg," by Presto; "Prior's Journey," by Presto;
"Vindication of the Duke of Marlborough," entirely
by the same woman; "Comment on Hare's Ser-
mon," by the same woman, only hints sent to the
printer from Presto to give her. Then there's the
Miscellany, an apron for Stella, a pound of choco-
late, without sugar, for Stella, a fine snuff-rasp of
ivory, given me by Mrs. St. John for Dingley, and
a large roll of tobacco, which she must hide or cut
shorter out of modesty, and four pair of spectacles
for the Lord knows who. There's the cargo, I hope
it will come safe. O, Mrs. Masham and I are very
well; we write to one another, but it is upon busi-
ness; I believe I told you so before: pray pardon
my forgetfulness in these cases; poor Presto can't
help it. MD shall have the money as soon as Tooke
gets it. And so I think I have answered all, and
the paper is out, and now I have fetched up my
week, and will send you another this day fortnight.
-Why, you rogues, two crowns make tench-ill-ling:
you are so dull you could never have found it out.
Farewell, &c. &c.
LETTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH.
London, Nov. 3, 1711.
MY 33rd lies now before me just finished, and I am
going to seal and send it, so let me know whether
would have me add anything: I gave you my
you
journal of this day; and it is now nine at night, and
I am going to be busy for an hour or two.
4. I left a friend's house to-day, where I was
invited, just when dinner was setting on, and pre-
tended I was engaged, because I saw some fellows
I did not know; and went to sir Matthew Dudley's,
where I had the same inconvenience, but he would
not let me go; otherwise I would have gone home,
and sent for a slice of mutton and a pot of ale, ra-
ther than dine with persons unknown, as bad, for
aught I know, as your deans, parsons, and curates.
Bad slabby weather to-day.-Now methinks I write
at ease, when I have no letter of MD's to answer.
But I mistook, and have got the large paper. The
queen is laid up with the gout at Hampton-court;
she is now seldom without it any long time toge-
ther; I fear it will wear her out in a very few years.
I plainly find I have less twitchings about my toes
since these ministers are sick and out of town, and
that I don't dine with them. I would compound
for a light easy gout to be perfectly well in my head.
-Pray walk when the frost comes, young ladies,
go a frost-biting. It comes into my head that, from
the very time you first went to Ireland, I have been
always plying you to walk and read. The young
fellows here have begun a kind of fashion to walk,
and many of them have got swingeing strong shoes
on purpose; it has got as far as several young lords;
if it hold, it would be a very good thing. Lady
Lucy and I are fallen out: she rails at me, and I
have left visiting her.
5. MD was very troublesome to me last night in
my sleep; I was a dreamed, methought, that Stella
was here. I asked her after Dingley, and she said
she had left her in Ireland, because she designed
her stay to be short, and such stuff.-Monsieur
Pontchartrain, the secretary of state in France, and
Monsieur Fontenelle, the secretary of the Royal
Academy there (who writ the Dialogues des Morts,
&c.), have sent letters to lord Pembroke, "that the
Academy have, with the king's consent, chosen him
one of their members in the room of one who is
lately dead." But the cautious gentleman has given
me the letters to show my lord Dartmouth and Mr.
St. John, our two secretaries, and let them see there
is no treason in them; which I will do on Wednes-
day, when they come from Hampton-court. The
letters are very handsome, and it is a very great
mark of honour and distinction to lord Pembroke.
I hear the two French ministers are come over
again about the peace; but I have seen nobody of
consequence to know the truth. I dined to-day
with a lady of my acquaintance, who was sick, in
her bedchamber, upon three herrings and a chicken;
the dinner was my bespeaking. We begin now to
have chesnuts and Seville oranges; have you the
latter yet? 'Twas a terrible windy day, and we had
processions in carts of the pope and the devil, and
the butchers rang their cleavers. You know this
is the fifth of November, popery and gunpowder.
6. Since I am used to this way of writing, I fancy
I could hardly make out a long letter to MD with-
out it. I think I ought to allow for every line taken
up by telling you where I dined; but that will not
be above seven lines in all, half a line to a dinner.
Your Ingoldsby is going over, and they say here he
is to be made a lord. Here was I staying in my
room till two this afternoon for that puppy sir An-
drew Fountaine, who was to go with me into the
city, and never came; and if I had not shot a dinner
flying, with one Mr. Murray, I might have fasted, or
gone to an alehouse. You never said one word of
Good Stoyte in your letter; but I suppose these
winter-nights we shall hear more of her. Does the
provost laugh as much as he used to do? We reckon
him here a good-for-nothing fellow. I design to
write to your dean one of these days, but I can never
find time, nor what to say. I will think of some-
thing: but if DD [Stella and Dingley] were not in
Ireland, I believe seriously I should not think of
the place twice a-year. Nothing there ever makes
the subject of talk in any company where I am.
But
7. I went to-day to the city on business; but
stopped at a printer's and stayed there; it was a
most delicious day. I hear the parliament is to be
prorogued for a fortnight longer; I suppose, either
because the queen has the gout, or that lord-treasurer
is not well, or that they would do something more
toward a peace. I called at lord-treasurer's at noon,
and sat awhile with lord Harley, but his father was
asleep. A bookseller has reprinted or new-titled a
sermon of Tom Swift's, printed last year, and pub-
lishes an advertisement calling it Dr. Swift's sermon.
Some friend of lord Galway has, by his directions,
published a four-shilling book about his conduct in
Spain, to defend him; I have but just seen it.
what care you for books, except Presto's Miscella-
nies? Leigh promised to call and see me, but has
not yet; I hope he will take care of his cargo, and
get your Chester box. A murrain take that box;
everything is spoiled that is in it. How does the
strong box do? you say nothing of Raymond: is
his wife brought to bed again; or how? has he
furnished his house, paid his debts, and put out
the rest of the money to use? I am glad to hear
poor Joe is like to get his two hundred pounds. I
suppose Trim is now reduced to slavery again. I
am glad of it; the people were as great rascals as
the gentlemen. But I must
must go to bed, sirrahs; the
secretary is still at Hampton-court with my papers,
or is come only to-night. They plague me with
attending them.
8. I was with the secretary this morning, and we
dined with Prior, and did business this afternoon till
about eight; and I must alter and undo, and a clut-
ter. I am glad the parliament is prorogued. I
stayed with Prior till eleven; the secretary left us
222
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
at eight. Prior, I believe, will be one of those em-
ployed to make the peace when a congress is opened.
Lord Ashburnham told to-day at the coffeehouse
that lord Harley was yesterday morning married to
the duke of Newcastle's daughter, the great heiress,
and it got about all the town. But I saw lord Har-
ley yesterday at noon in his nightgown, and he dined
in the city with Prior and others; so it is not true;
but I hope it will be so; for I know it has been
privately managing this long time a the lady will
not have half her father's estate; for the duke left
lord Pelham's son his heir. The widow duchess
will not stand to the will; and she is now at law
with Pelham. However, at worst, the girl will have
about ten thousand pounds a-year to support the
honour; for lord-treasurer will never save a groat
for himself. Lord Harley is a very valuable young
gentleman; and they say the girl is handsome, and
has good sense, but red hair.
I
9. I designed a jaunt into the city to-day to be
merry, but was disappointed; so one always is in
this life; and I could not see lord Dartmouth to-day,
with whom I had some business. Business and
pleasure both disappointed. You can go to your
dean, and, for want of him, Goody Stoyte, or Walls,
or Manley, and meet everywhere with cards and
claret. I dined privately with a friend on a herring
and chicken, and half a flask of bad Florence.
begin to have fires now when the mornings are cold.
I have got some loose bricks at the back of my grate
for good husbandry. Fine weather. Patrick tells
me my caps are wearing out. I know not how to
get others. I want a necessary woman strangely.
I am as helpless as an elephant. I had three pack-
ets from the archbishop of Dublin, cost me four
shillings, all about Higgins, printed stuff, and two
long letters. His people forgot to enclose them to
Lewis; and they were only directed to doctor Swift,
without naming London or anything else. I wonder
how they reached me, unless the postmaster directed
them. I have read all the trash and am weary.
10. Why; if you must have it out, something is
to be published of great moment, and three or four
great people are to see there are no mistakes in point
of fact and 'tis so troublesome to send it among
them, and get their corrections, that I am weary as
a dog. I dined to-day with the printer, and was
there all the afternoon; and it plagues me, and there's
an end, and what would you have? Lady Dupplin,
lord-treasurer's daughter, is brought to-bed of a son.
Lord-treasurer has had an ugly return of his gravel.
'Tis good for us to live in gravel-pits, but not for
gravel-pits to live in us; and a man in this case
should leave no stone unturned. Lord-treasurer's
sickness, the queen's gout, the forwarding the peace,
occasion putting off the parliament a fortnight longer.
My head has had no ill returns. I had good walk-
ing to-day in the city, and take all opportunities
of it on purpose for my health; but I can't walk in
the park, because that is only for walking sake, and
loses time, so I mix it with business. I wish MD
walked half as much as Presto. If I was with you,
I'd make you walk; I would walk behind or before
you, and you should have masks on, and be tucked
up like anything; and Stella is naturally a stout
walker, and carries herself firm; methinks I see her
strut, and step clever over a kennel; and Dingley
would do well enough if her petticoats were pinned
up; but she is so embroiled, and so fearful, and then
Stella scolds, and Dingley stumbles, and is so dag-
gled. Have you got the whalebone petticoats among
a The great end, lord Bolingbroke says, of Harley's admi-
nistration was to marry his son to this lady; which he accom-
plished.
you yet? I hate them; a woman here may hide a
moderate gallant under them. Pshaw, what's all
this I'm saying? Methinks I am talking to MD
face to face.
11. Did I tell you that old Frowde, the old fool,
is selling his estate at Pepperhara, and is sculking
about the town nobody knows where? and who do
you think manages all this for him, but that rogue
Child, the double squire of Farnham? I have put
Mrs. Masham, the queen's favourite, upon buying it;
but that is yet a great secret; and I have employed
lady Oglethorp to inquire about it. I was with lady
Oglethorp to-day, who is come to town for a week
or two, and to-morrow I will see to hunt out the old
fool; he is utterly ruined, and at this present in some
blind alley with some dirty wench. He has two
sons that must starve, and he never gives them a
farthing. If Mrs. Masham buys the land, I will
desire her to get the queen to give some pension to
the old fool, to keep him from absolutely starving.
What do you meddle with other people's affairs for?
says Stella.
O but Mr. Masham and his wife are
very urgent with me, since I first put them in the
head of it. I dined with sir Matthew Dudley, who,
I doubt, will soon lose his employment.
12. Morning. I am going to hunt out old Frowde,
and to do some business in the city. I have not yet
called to Patrick to know whether it be fair. It has
been past dropping these two days. Rainy weather
hurts my pate and my purse.
He tells me 'tis very
windy and begins to look dark; woe be to my shil-
lings! an old saying and a true,—
Few fillings, many shillings.
If the day be dark, my purse will be light.
To my enemies be this curse,
A dark day and a light purse.
And so I'll rise and go to my fire, for Patrick tells
me I have a fire; yet it is not shaving-day, nor is
the weather cold; this is too extravagant. What is
become of Dilly? I suppose you have him with you.
Stella is just now showing a white leg, and putting
it into the slipper. Present my service to her, and
will come too: or, Dingley, can't you write a note?
tell her I am engaged to the dean: and desire she
This is Stella's morning dialogue, no, morning speech
I mean. Morrow, sirrahs, and let me rise as well
as you; but I promise you Walls can't dine with the
dinner, and to go with Gracy Spencer to the shops
dean to-day, for she is to be at Mrs. Proby's just after
to buy a yard of muslin, and a silver lace for an un-
der petticoat. Morrow again, sirrahs. At night.-
I dined with Stratford in the city, but could not
finish my affairs with him; but now I have resolved
to buy five hundred pounds South Sea stock, which
will cost me three hundred and eighty ready money;
and I will make use of the bill of a hundred pounds
you sent me, and transfer Mrs. Walls over to Hawk-
shaw; or, if she dislikes it, I will borrow a hundred
pounds of the secretary and repay her. Three shil-
lings coach-hire to-day. I have spoken to Frowde's
brother to get me the lowest price of the estate to
tell Mrs. Masham.
13. I dined privately with a friend to-day in the
neighbourhood. Last Saturday night I came home,
and the drab had just washed my room, and my
bedchamber was all wet, and I was forced to go
sick on Sunday, and now have got a swingeing cold.
to bed in my own defence, and no fire; I was
I scolded like a dog at Patrick, although he was
out with me; I detest washing of rooms; can't they
wash them in a morning, and make a fire, and leave
open the windows? I slept not a wink last night
for hawking and spitting and now everybody has
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
223
colds. Here's a clatter: I'll go to bed and sleep if
I can.
14. Lady Mountjoy sent to me two days ago, 80 I
dined with her to-day, and in the evening went to
see lord-treasurer. I found Patrick had been just
there with a how d'ye, and my lord had returned
answer that he desired to see me. Mrs. Masham
was with him when I came; and they are never
disturbed: 'tis well she is not very handsome; they
sit alone together settling the nation. I sat with
lady Oxford, and stopped Mrs. Masham as she came
out, and told her what progress I had made, &c.,
and then went to lord-treasurer: he is very well,
only uneasy at rising or sitting, with some rheu-
matic pains in his thigh, and a foot weak. He
showed me a small paper, sent by an unknown hand
to one Mr. Cook, who sent it to my lord: it was
written in plain large letters thus :—
"Though G-d's knife did not succeed,
A Fn's yet may do the deed."
And a little below, "Burn this, you dog." My lord
has frequently such letters as these: once he showed
me one, which was a vision describing a certain man,
his dress, his sword, and his countenance, who was
to murder my lord. And he told me he saw a fel-
low in the chapel at Windsor with a dress very like
it. They often send him letters signed, "Your
humble servant, the devil," and such stuff.
I sat
with him till after ten, and have business to do.
15. The secretary came yesterday to town from
Hampton-court, so I went to him early this morn-
ing; but he went back last night again: and com-
ing home to-night I found a letter from him to tell
me that he was just come from Hampton-court, and
just returning, and will not be here till Saturday
night. A pox take him; he stops all my business.
I'll beg leave to come back when I have got over
this; and hope to see MD in Ireland soon after
Christmas. I am weary of courts, and want my
journeys to Laracor; they did me more good than
all the ministries these twenty years. I dined to-
day in the city, but did no business as I designed.
Lady Mountjoy tells me that Dilly is got to Ireland,
and that the archbishop of Dublin was the cause of
his returning so soon. The parliament was pro-
rogued two days ago for a fortnight, which, with the
queen's absence, makes the town very dull and
empty. They tell me the duke of Ormond brings
all the world away with him from Ireland. London
has nothing so bad in it in winter as your knots of
Irish folks; but I go to no coffeehouse, and so I
seldom see them. This letter shall go on Satur-
day; and then I am even with the world again. I
have lent money, and cannot get it, and am forced
to borrow for myself.
16. My man made a blunder this morning, and
let up a visitor, when I had ordered to see nobody;
so I was forced to hurry a hang-dog instrument of
mine into my bedchamber, and keep him cooling his
heels there above an hour. I am going on fairly in
the common forms of a great cold; I believe it will
last me about ten days in all.—I should have told
you that in those two verses sent to lord-treasurer
the G- -d stands for Guiscard; that is easy; but
we differed about F-n: I thought it was for
Frenchman, because he hates them, and they him:
and so it would be, "That, although Guiscard's
knife missed its design, the knife of a Frenchman
might yet do it." My lord thinks it stands for
Felton, the name of him that stabbed the first duke
of Buckingham.-Sir Andrew Fountaine and I dined
with the Vans to-day, and my cold made me loiter
all the evening. Stay, young women, don't you
begin to owe me a letter? just a month to-day since
|
I had your No. 22. I'll stay a week longer, and
then I'll expect like agog; till then you may play at
ombre, and so forth, as you please. The Whigs are
still crying down our peace, but we will have it, I hope,
in spite of them: the emperor comes now with his two
eggs a penny, and promises wonders to continue the
war; but it is too late; only I hope the fear of it
will serve to spur on the French to be easy and sin-
cere. Night, sirrahs; I'll go early to bed.
17. Morning. This goes to-night; I will put it
myself in the post-office. I had just now a long
letter from the archbishop of Dublin, giving me an
account of the ending your sessions, how it ended in
a storm, which storm, by the time it arrives here,
will be only half nature. I can't help it, I won't
hide. I often advised the dissolution of that par-
liament, although I did not think the scoundrels had
so much courage; but they have it only in the
wrong, like a bully that will fight for a whore, and
run away in an army. I believe, by several things
the archbishop says, he is not very well either with
the government or clergy.-See how luckily my paper
ends with a fortnight.-God Almighty bless and
preserve dearest little MD.-I suppose your lord-
lieutenant is now setting out for England. I wonder
the bishop of Clogher does not write to me, or let
me know of his statues, and how he likes them: I
will write to him again as soon as I have leisure.
Farewell, dearest MD, and love Presto, who loves
MD infinitely above all earthly things, and who
will. My service to Mrs. Stoyte and Catherine.
I'm sitting in my bed, but will rise to seal this.
Morrow,
Morrow, dear rogues. Farewell again, dearest
MD, &c.
LETTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH.
London, Nov. 17, 1711.
I PUT my last this evening in the post-office. I
dined with Dr. Cockburn. This being queen Eliza-
beth's birthday, we have the d- and all to do
among us. I just heard of the stir as my letter was
sealed this morning; and was so cross I would not
open it to tell you. I have been visiting lady Ogle-
thorp and lady Worsley; the latter is lately come
to town for the winter, and with child, and what
care you? This is queen Elizabeth's birthday,
usually kept in this town by apprentices, &c.; but
the Whigs designed a mighty procession by mid-
night, and had laid out a thousand pounds to dress up
the pope, devil, cardinals, Sacheverel, &c., and carry
them with torches about, and burn them. They did it
by contribution. Garth gave five guineas; Dr. Garth
I mean, if ever you heard of him. But they were
seized last night, by order from the secretary; you
will have an account of it, for they bawl it about the
streets already. They had some very foolish and
mischievous designs; and it was thought they would
have put the rabble upon assaulting my lord-trea-
surer's house, and the secretary's, and other vio-
lences. The militia was raised to prevent it, and
now, I suppose, all will be quiet. The figures are
now at the secretary's office at Whitehall. I design
to see them if I can.
18. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary, who
just came from Hampton-court. He was telling
me more particulars about this business of burning
the pope. It cost a great deal of money, and, had
it gone on, would have cost three times as much :
but the town is full of it, and half a dozen Grub-
street papers already. The secretary and I dined at
brigadier Britton's, but I left them at six, upon an
appointment with some sober company of men and
ladies, to drink punch at sir Andrew Fountaine's.
224
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
We were not very merry; and I don't love rack
punch, I love it better with brandy; are you of my
opinion? Why, then, twelvepenny weather; sirrahs,
why don't you play at shuttlecock? I have thought
of it a hundred times; faith, Presto will come over
after Christmas, and will play with Stella before the
cold weather is gone. Do you read the Spectators?
I never do; they never come in my way; I go to
no coffeehouses. They say abundance of them are
very pretty; they are going to be printed in small
volumes; I'll bring them over with me. I shall
be out of my hurry in a week, and if Leigh be not
gone over, I will send you by him what I am now
finishing. I don't know where Leigh is; I have
not seen him this good while, though he promised to
call: I shall send to him. The queen comes to town
on Thursday for good and all.
Why, I
19. I was this morning at lord Dartmouth's office,
and sent out for him from the committee of council,
about some business. I was asking him more con-
cerning this bustle about the figures in waxwork of
the pope, and devil, &c. He was not at leisure, or
he would have seen them. I hear the owners are
so impudent that they design to replevin them by
law. I am assured that the figure of the devil is
made as like lord-treasurer as they could.
dined with a friend in St. James's-street. Lord-
treasurer, I am told, was abroad to-day: I will know
to-morrow how he does after it. The duke of Marl-
borough is come, and was yesterday at Hampton-
court with the queen; no, it was t'other day; no, it
was yesterday; for to-day I remember Mr. Secretary
was going to see him, when I was there, not at the
duke of Marlborough's, but at the secretary's; the
duke is not so fond of me. What care I? I won
seven shillings to-night at picquet: I play twice a
year or so.
20. I have been so teased with Whiggish discourse
by Mrs. Barton and lady Betty Germain, never saw
the like. They turn all this affair of the pope burn-
ing into ridicule; and, indeed, they have made too
great a clutter about it, if they had no real reason to
apprehend some tumults. I dined with lady Betty.
I hear Prior's commission is passed to be ambas-
sador extraordinary and plenipotentiary for the
peace; my lord privy seal, who you know is bishop
of Bristol, is the other; and lord Strafford, already
ambassador at the Hague, the third: I am forced to
tell you, ignorant sluts, who is who. I was pun-
ning scurvily with sir Andrew Fountaine and lord
Pembroke this evening; do you ever pun now?
Sometimes the dean, or Tom Leigh. Prior puns
very well. Odso, I must go see his excellency, 'tis
a noble advancement: but they could do no less
after sending him to France. Lord Strafford is as
proud as hell, and how he will bear one of Prior's
mean birth on an equal character with him I know
not. And so I go to my business, and bid you good
night.
21. I was this morning busy with my printer; I
gave him the fifth sheet, and then I went and dined
with him in the city, to correct something, and alter,
&c., and I walked home in the dusk, and the rain
overtook me: and I found a letter here from Mr.
Lewis; well, and so I opened it, and he says the
peace is past danger, &c. Well, and so there was
another letter enclosed in his; well, and so I looked
on the outside of this t'other letter. Well, and so
who do you think this t'other letter was from? Well,
and so I'll tell you, it was from little MD, No. 23,
23, 23, 23. I tell you it is no more, I have told you
so before, but I just looked again to satisfy you.
Hie, Stella, you write like an emperor, a great deal
together; a very good hand, and but four false
|
|
spellings in all.
spellings in all. Shall I send them to you? I am
glad you did not take my correction ill. Well, but
I won't answer your letter now, sirrah saucy boxes,
no, no, not yet; just a month and three days from
the last, which is just five weeks: you see it comes
just when I begin to grumble.
22. Morning.-Tooke has just brought me Ding-
ley's money. I will give you a note for it at the
end of this letter. There was half-a-crown for en-
tering the letter of attorney, but I swore to stop
that. I'll spend your money bravely here. Mor-
row, dear sirrahs. At night.—I dined to-day with
sir Thomas Hanmer; his wife, the duchess of Graf-
ton, dined with us: she wears a great high head-
dress, such as was in fashion fifteen years ago, and
looks like a mad woman in it; yet she has great re-
mains of beauty. I was this evening to see lord
Harley, and thought to have sat with lord-treasurer,
but he was taken up with the Dutch envoy, and
such folks, and I would not stay. One particular
in life here, different from what I have in Dublin,
is, that whenever I come home I expect to find some
letter for me, and seldom miss, and never any worth
a farthing, but often to vex mc. The queen does not
come to town till Saturday. Prior is not yet declared;
but these ministers being at Hampton-court I know
nothing; and if I write news from common hands,
it is always lies. You will think it affectation, but
nothing has vexed me more for some months past
than people I never saw pretending to be acquainted
with me, and yet speak ill of me too; at least some
of them. An old crooked Scotch countess, whom I
never heard of in my life, told the duchess of
Hamilton t'other day that I often visited her. People
of worth never do that: so that a man only gets the
scandal of having scurvy acquaintance. Three ladies
were railing against me some time ago, and said they
were very well acquainted with me; two of which I
had never heard of, and the third I had only seen
twice where I happened to visit. A man who has
once seen me in a coffechouse will ask me how I do
when he sees me talking at court with a minister of
state, who is sure to ask me how I came acquainted
with that scoundrel. But come, sirrahs, this is all
stuff to you, so I'll say no more on this side the
paper, but turn over.
23. My printer invited Mr. Lewis and me to dine
at a tavern to-day, which I have not done five times
since I came to England; I never will call it Britain,
pray don't call it Britain. My week is not out, and
one side of this paper is out, and I have a letter to
answer of MD's into the bargain: must I write on
the third side? faith, that will give you an ill habit.
I saw Leigh last night; he gives a terrible account
of Sterne; he reckons he is seduced by some wench;
he is over head and ears in debt, and has pawned
several things. Leigh says he goes on Monday next
for Ireland, but believes Sterne will not go with
him : Sterne has kept him these three months.
Leigh has got the apron and things, and promises to
call for the box at Chester, but I despair of it. Good
night, sirrahs; I have been late abroad.
24. I have finished my pamphlet to-day, which
has cost me so much time and trouble; it will be
published in three or four days, when the parliament
begins sitting. I suppose the queen is come to town,
but know nothing, having been in the city finishing
and correcting with the printer. When I came home
I found letters on my table as usual, and one from
your mother, to tell me that you desire your writings
and a picture should be sent to me, to be sent over
to you. I have just answered her letter, and pro-
mised to take care of them if they be sent to me.
She is at Farnham: it is too late to send them by
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
225
I
Leigh; besides, I will wait your orders, madam
Stella. I am going to finish a letter to lord-trea-
surer about reforming our language; but first
must put an end to a ballad; and go you to your
cards, sirrahs, this is card season.
25. I was early with the secretary to-day, but he
was gone to his devotions, and to receive the sacra-
ment; several rakes did the same; it was not for
piety, but employments; according to act of parlia-
ment. I dined with lady Mary Dudley, and passed
my time since insipidly, only I was at court at noon,
and saw fifty acquaintance I had not met this long
time that is the advantage of a court, and I fancy
I am better known than any man that goes there.
Sir John Walters' quarrel with me has entertained
the town ever since; and yet we never had a word,
only he railed at me behind my back.
The par-
liament is again to be prorogued for eight or nine
days, for the Whigs are too strong in the house of
lords: other reasons are pretended, but that is the
truth. The prorogation is not yet known, but will
be to-morrow.
26. Mr. Lewis and I dined with a friend of his,
and unexpectedly there dined with us an Irish
knight, one sir John St. Leger [afterwards a judge
in Ireland], who follows the law here, but at a great
distance he was so pert, I was forced to take him
down more than once. I saw to-day the pope, and
devil, and the other figures of cardinals, &c., fifteen
in all, which have made such a noise. I have put
an understrapper upon writing a twopenny pamphlet
to give an account of the whole design. My large
pamphlet will be published to-morrow; copies are
sent to the great men this night. Domville [of
Longman's town, county of Dublin] is come home
from his travels; I am vexed at it; I have not
seen him yet; I design to present him to all the
great men.
27. Domville came to me this morning, and we
dined at Pontack's, and were all day together, till
six this evening; he is perfectly as fine a gentleman
as I know; he set me down at lord-treasurer's, with
whom I stayed about an hour, till Monsieur Buys,
the Dutch envoy, came to him about some business.
My lord-treasurer is pretty well, but stiff in the hips
with the remains of the rheumatism. I am to bring
Domville to my lord Harley in a day or two.
was the dirtiest rainy day that ever I saw.
phamphlet is published; lord-treasurer had it by him.
on the table, and was asking me about the mottoes
in the title-page; he gave me one of them himself.
I must send you the phamplet, if I can.
It
The
28. Mrs. Van sent to me to dine with her to-day,
because some ladies of my acquaintance were to be
there; and there I dined. I was this morning to
return Domville his visit, and went to visit Mrs.
Masham, who was not within. I am turned out of
my lodging by my landlady: it seems her husband
and her son are coming home; but I have taken
another lodging hard by, in Leicester-fields. I pre-
sented Mr. Domville to Mr. Lewis and Mr. Prior
this morning. Prior and I are called the two Sosias,
in a Whig Newspaper. Sosias, can you read it? The
pamphlet begins to make a noise; I was asked by seve-
ral whether I had seen it, and they advised me to read
it, for it was something very extraordinary. I shall
be suspected; and it will have several paltry answers.
It must take its fate, as Savage said of his sermon
that he preached at Farnham on sir William Temple's
death. Domville saw Savage in Italy, and says he is
a coxcomb, and half mad: he goes in red and with
yellow waistcoats, and was at ceremony kneeling to
the pope on a Palm Sunday, which is much more
than kissing his toe; and I believe it will ruin him
VOL. I.
here when 'tis told. I'll answer your letter in my
new lodgings; I have hardly room; I must borrow
from the other side.
29. New lodgings.-My printer came this morning
to tell me he must immediately print a second edition,
and lord-treasurer made one or two small additions:
they must work day and night to have it out on
Our
Saturday; they sold a thousand in two days.
society met to-day, nine of us were present; we
dined at our brother Bathurst's: we made several
regulations, and have chosen three new members,
lord Orrery, Jack Hill, who is Mrs. Masham's bro-
ther, he that lately miscarried in the expedition to
Quebec, and one colonel Dinsey.-We have taken a
room in a house near St. James's to meet in. I left
them carly about correcting the pamphlet, &c., and
am now got home, &c.
I
30. This morning I carried Domville to see my
lord Harley, and I did some business with lord-trea-
surer, and have been all this afternoon with the printer,
adding something to the second edition. I dined with
the printer: the pamphlet makes a world of noise,
and will do a great deal of good; it tells abundance
of most important facts which were not at all known.
I'll answer your letter to-morrow morning; or sup-
pose I answer it just now, though it is pretty late.
Come, then.-You say you are busy with parliaments,
&c. that's more than ever I will be when I come
back; but you will have none these two years.
Lord Santry, &c., yes, I have had enough on't.
am glad Dilly is mended; does he not thank me for
showing him the court and the great people's faces?
He had his glass out at the queen and the rest. 'Tis
right what Dilly says; I depend upon nothing from
my friends, but to go back as I came. Never fear
Laracor, 'twill mend with a peace, or surely they'll
give me the Dublin parish. Stella is in the right;
the bishop of Ossory is the silliest, best-natured
wretch breathing, of as little consequence as an egg-
shell. Well, the spelling I have mentioned before;
only the next time say at least, and not at lest. Pox
on your Newbury! what can I do for him? I'll give
his case (I am glad it is not a woman's) to what
members I know; that's all I can do. Lord-trea-
surer's lameness goes off daily. Pray God preserve
poor good Mrs. Stoyte, she would be a great loss to
us all; pray give her my service, and tell her she has
my heartiest prayers. I pity poor Mrs. Manley; but I
think the child is happy to die, considering how little
provision it would have had.-Poh, every pamphlet
abuses me, and for things I never writ. Joe should
have written me thanks for his two hundred pounds:
I reckon he got it by my means; and I must thank
the duke of Ormond, who I dare swear will say he
did it on my account. Are they golden pippins, those
seven apples? We have had much rain every day as
well as you.
£7. 17s. 8d. old blunderer, not 18s. :
I have reckoned it eighteen times. Hawkshaw's eight
pounds is not reckoned; and if it be secure, it may
lie where it is, unless they desire to pay it: so Par-
visol may let it drop till further orders; for I have
put Mrs.Wesley's money into the bank, and will pay
her with Hawkshaw's- -I mean that Hawkshaw's
money goes for an addition to MD, you know; but
be good housewives. Bernage never comes now to
see me; he has no more to ask! but I hear he has
been ill.-A pox on Mrs. South's affair! I can do
nothing in it, but by way of assisting anybody else
that solicits it, by dropping a favourable word, if it
comes in my way. Tell Walls I do no more for any-
body with my lord treasurer, especially a thing of
this kind. Tell him I have spent all my discretion,
and have no more to use.-And so I have answered
your letter fully and plainly.-And so I have got to
Q
226
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
the third side of my paper, which is more than be-
longs to you, young women. It goes to-morrow,
to nobody's sorrow. You are silly, not I; I'm a
poet, if I had but, &c.-Who's silly now? rogues
and lasses, tinderboxes and buzzards. O Lord, I am
in a high vein of silliness; methought I was speak-
ing to dearest little MD face to face. There; so
lads, enough for to-night; to cards with the black-
guards. Good-night, my delight, &c.
:
December 1. Pish! sirrahs, put a date always at
the bottom of your letter, as well as the top, that I
may know when you send it; your last is of November
3, yet I had others at the same time, written a fort-
night after. Whenever you would have any money,
send me word three weeks before, and in that time
you will certainly have an answer, with a bill on
Parvisol pray do this; for my head is full, and it
head is full, and it
will ease my memory. Why, I think I quoted to
you some of's letter, so you may imagine how
witty the rest was; for it was all of a bunch, as
goodman Peesley says. Pray let us have no more
bussiness, but busyness: the deuce take me if I know
how to spell it; your wrong spelling, madam Stella,
has put me out: it does not look right; let me see,
bussiness, busyness, business, bisyness, bisness, bys-
ness; faith, I know not which is right, I think the
second; I believe I never writ the word in my life
before; yes, sure I must, though; business, busyness,
bisyness.I have perplexed myself, and can't do
it.
Prithee ask Walls. Business, I fancy that's
right. Yes it is; I looked in my own pamphlet, and
found it twice in ten lines, to convince you that I
never writ it before. O, now I see it as plain as can
be; so yours is only an s too much. The parliament
will certainly meet on Friday next; the Whigs will
have a great majority in the house of lords, no care
is taken to prevent it; there is too much neglect;
they are warned of it, and that signifies nothing: it
was feared there would be some peevish address from
the lords against a peace. 'Tis said about the town
that several of the allies begin now to be content that
a peace should be treated. This is all the news I
have. The queen is pretty well; and so now I bid
poor dearest MD farewell till to-night, then I will
talk with them again.
The fifteen images that I saw were not worth forty
pounds, so I stretched a little when I said a thousand.
The Grub-street account of that tumult is published.
The devil is not like lord-treasurer: they were all in
your odd antic mask, bought in common shops. I
fear Prior will not be one of the plenipotentiaries.
I was looking over this letter, and find I make
many mistakes of leaving out words; so 'tis impossi-
ble to find any meaning, unless you be conjurors. I
will take more care for the future, and read over
every day just what I have written that day, which
will take up no time to speak of.
LETTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH.
|
tell me that his father desires I would make two
small alterations. I am going to be busy, &c.
2. Morning. See the blunder; I was making it
the 37th day of the mouth, from the number above.
Well, but I am staying here for old Frowde, [author
of poems and plays] who appointed to call this morn-
ing: I am ready dressed to go to church: I suppose
he dare not stir out but on Sundays. The printer
called early this morning, told me the second edition
went off yesterday in five hours, and he must have
a third ready to-morrow, for they might have sold half
another his men are all at work with it, though it
be Sunday. This old fool will not come, and I shall
miss church. Morrow, sirrahs. At night.-I was
at court to-day: the queen is well, and walked
through part of the rooms. I dined with the secre-
tary, and despatched some business. He tells me
the Dutch envoy designs to complain of that pam-
phlet. The noise it makes is extraordinary. It is
fit it should answer the pains I have been at about it.
I suppose it will be printed in Ireland. Some lay it
to Prior, others to Mr. secretary St. John, but I am
always the first they lay everything to.
I'll go
sleep, &c.
over.
as ever.
3. I have ordered Patrick not to let any odd fellow
come up to me; and a fellow would needs speak with
me from sir George Prettyman. I had never heard of
him, and would not see the messenger: but at last it
proved that this sir George has sold his estate and is
a beggar. Smithers, the Farnham carrier, brought me
this morning a letter from your mother, with three
papers enclosed of lady Giffard's writing; one owning
some exchequer business of 1007. to be Stella's; ano-
ther for 100%. that she has of yours, which I made over
to you for Mariston; and a third for 3007.: the last is
on stamped paper. I think they had better lie in
England in some good hand till lady Giffard dies;
and I will think of some such hand before I come
I was asking Smithers about all the people at
Farnham. Mrs. White has left off dressing, is trou-
bled with lameness and swelled legs, and seldom
stirs out; but her old hang-dog husband as hearty
I was this morning with lord treasurer,
about something he would have altered in the pam-
phlet; but it can't be till the fourth edition, which I
believe will be soon; for I dined with the printer,
and he tells me they have sold off half the third.
Mrs. Percival and her daughter have been in town
these three weeks, which I never heard till to-day;
and Mrs. Wesley is come to town too, to consult Dr.
Radcliffe. The Whigs are resolved to bring that
pamphlet into the house of lords to have it con-
demned, so I hear. But the printer will stand to it,
and not own the author; he must say he had it
from the penny-post. Some people talk as if the
house of lords would do some peevish thing; for
the Whigs are now a great majority in it; our mi-
nisters are too negligent of such things: I have
never slipped giving them warning: some of them
are sensible of it; but lonl-treasurer stands to much
upon his own legs. I fancy his good fortune will
bear him out in everything; but in reason I should
think this ministry to stand very unsteady; if they
can carry a peace, they may hold; I believe not
else.
London, Dec. 1, 1711.
My last was put in this evening. I intended to
dine with Mr. Masham to-day, and called at White's
chocolate-house to see if he was there. Lord Wharton
saw me at the door, and I saw him, but took no
notice, and was going away, but he came through
the crowd, called after me, and asked me how I did,
&c. This was pretty; and I believe he wished every
word he spoke was a halter to hang me. Masham diding with young Harcourt, secretary to our society,
not dine at home, so I ate with a friend in the neigh-
bourhood. The printer has not sent me the second
edition; I know not the reason, for it certainly came
out to-day; perhaps they are glutted with it already.
1 found a letter from lord Harley on my table, to
4. Mr. Secretary sent to me to-day to dine with
him alone; but we had two more with us, which
hindered me doing some business. I was this morn-
to take a room for our weekly meetings; and the
fellow asked us five guineas a-week only to have
leave to dine once a-week; was not that pretty? so
we broke off with him, and are to dine next Thurs-
day at Harcourt's (he is lord-keeper's son). They
JOURNAL TO STELLA
227
have sold off above half the third edition, and an-
swers are coming out: the Dutch envoy refused
dining with Dr. Davenant, because he was suspected
to write it: I have made some alterations in every
edition, and it has cost me more trouble for the time
since the printing than before. 'Tis sent over to
Ireland, and I suppose you will have it reprinted.
5. They are now printing the fourth edition, which
is reckoned very extraordinary, considering 'tis a dear
twelvepenny book, and not bought up in numbers
by the party to give away, as the Whigs do, but
purely upon its own strength. I have got an under
spur-leather to write an Examiner again, and the
secretary and I will now and then send hints; but
we would have it a little upon the Grub-street, to be
a match for their writers. I dined with lord-trea-
surer to-day at five: he dined by himself after his
family, and drinks no claret yet, for fear of his rheu-
matism, of which he is almost well.
He was very
pleasant, as he is always: yet I fancied he was a
little touched with the present posture of affairs.
The elector of Hanover's minister here has given in
a violent memorial against the peace, and caused it
to be printed. The Whig lords are doing their
utmost for a majority against Friday, and design, if
they can, to address the queen against the peace.
Lord Nottingham, a famous Tory and speechmaker,
is gone over to the Whig side: they toast him daily,
and lord Wharton says, "It is Dismal (so they call
him from his looks) will save England at last."
Lord-treasurer was hinting as if he wished a ballad
was made on him, and I will get up one against to-
morrow. He gave me a scurrilous printed paper of
bad verses on himself, under the name of the Eng-
lish Catiline, and made me read them to the com-
pany. It was his birthday, which he would not tell
us, but lord Harley whispered it to me.
6. I was this morning making the ballad, two
degrees above Grub-street; at noon I paid a visit to
Mrs. Masham, and then went to dine with our
society. Poor lord-keeper dined below stairs, I
suppose, on a bit of mutton. We chose two mem-
bers; we were eleven met, the greatest meeting we
ever had: I am next week to introduce lord Orrery.
The printer came before we parted, and brought the
ballad, which made them laugh very heartily a dozen
times. He is going to print the pamphlet in small,
a fifth edition, to be taken off by friends, and sent
into the country. A sixpenny answer is come out,
good for nothing, but guessing me, among others,
for the author. To-morrow is the fatal day for the
parliament meeting, and we are full of hopes and
fears. We reckon we have a majority of ten on our
side in the house of lords; yet I observed Mrs.
Masham a little uneasy; she assures me the queen
is stout. The duke of Marlborough has not seen
the queen for some days past; Mrs. Masham is glad
of it, because she says he tells a hundred lies to his
friends of what she says to him: he is one day hum-
ble, and the next day on the high ropes. The duke
of Ormond, they say, will be in town to-night by
twelve.
7. This being the day the parliament was to meet,
and the great question to be determined, I went
with Dr. Freind to dine in the city, on purpose to
be out of the way, and we sent our printer to see
what was our fate; but he gave us a most melan-
choly account of things. The earl of Nottingham
began, and spoke against a peace, and desired that
in their address they might put in a clause to advise
the queen not to make a peace without Spain;
which was debated, and carried by the Whigs by
about six voices and this has happened entirely by
my lord-treasurer's neglect, who did not take timely
:
care to make up all his strength, although every one
of us gave him caution enough. Nottingham has
certainly been bribed. The question is yet only
carried in the committee of the whole house, and
we hope when it is reported to the house to-morrow
we shall have a majority, by some Scotch lords com-
ing to town. However, it is a mighty blow and
loss of reputation to lord-treasurer, and may end in
his ruin. I hear the thing only as the printer
brought it, who was at the debate; but how the
ministry take it, or what their hopes and fears are, I
cannot tell until I see them. I shall be early with
the secretary to-morrow, and then I will tell you
more, and shall write a full account to the bishop of
Clogher to-morrow, and to the archbishop of Dublin,
if I have time. I am horribly down at present.
long to know how lord-treasurer bears this, and
what remedy he has. The duke of Ormond came
this day to town, and was there.
8. I was early this morning with the secretary,
and talked over this matter. He hoped that, when
it was reported this day in the house of lords, they
would disagree with their committee, and so the
matter would go off, only with a little loss of reputa-
tion to the lord-treasurer. I dined with Dr. Cock-
burn, and after, a Scotch member came in, and told
us that the clause was carried against the court in
the house of lords almost two to one. I went im-
mediately to Mrs. Masham, and meeting Dr. Ar-
buthnot (the queen's favourite physician), we went
together.
together. She was just come from waiting at the
queen's dinner, and going to her own. She had
heard nothing of the thing being gone against us.
It seems lord-treasurer had been so negligent, that
he was with the queen while the question was put
in the house: I immediately told Mrs. Masham that
either she and lord-treasurer had joined with the
queen to betray us, or that they two were betrayed
by the queen she protested solemnly it was not the
former, and I believed her; but she gave me some
lights to suspect the queen is changed. For, yester-
day when the queen was going from the house,
where she sat to hear the debate, the duke of Shrews-
bury, lord-chamberlain, asked her "whether he or
the great chamberlain Lindsay ought to lead her
out;" she answered short, "neither of you;" and
gave her hand to the duke of Somerset, who was
louder than any in the house for the clause against
peace. She gave me one or two more instances of
this sort, which convince me that the queen is false,
or at least very much wavering. Mr. Masham
begged us to stay, because lord-treasurer would call,
and we were resolved to fall on him about his negli-
gence in securing a majority. He came, and ap-
peared in good humour as usual, but I thought his
countenance was much cast down. I rallied him,
and desired him to give me his staff, which he did;
I told him if he would secure it me a week, I would
set all right he asked, how? I said, I would imme-
diately turn lord Marlborough, his two daughters,
the duke and duchess of Somerset, and lord Cholmon-
deley, out of all their employments; and I believe
he had not a friend but was of my opinion. Arbuth-
not asked how he came not to secure a majority? he
could answer nothing, but that he could not help it
if people would lie and forswear. A poor answer
for a great minister. There fell from him a scrip-
ture expression, that "The hearts of kings are un-
searchable." I told him it was what I feared, and
was from him the worst news he could tell me. I
begged him to know what he had to trust to he
stuck a little; but at last bid me not fear, for all
would be well yet. We would fain have had him
eat a bit where he was, but he would go home, it
I
Q 2
228
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
was past six: he made me go home with him.
There we found his brother and Mr. Secretary. He
made his son take a list of all the house of commons
who had places, and yet voted against the court, in
such a manner as if they should lose their places: I
doubt he is not able to compass it. Lord-keeper
came in an hour, and they were going upon busi-
ness. So I left him, and returned to Mrs. Masham ;
but she had company with her, and I would not
stay. This is a long journal, and of a day that may
produce great alterations, and hazard the ruin of
England. The Whigs are all in triumph; they fore-
told how all this would be, but we thought it boast-
ing. Nay, they said the parliament should be dis-
solved before Christmas, and perhaps it may: this is
all your d-d duchess of Somerset's doings. I warn-
ed them of it nine months ago, and a hundred times
since the secretary always dreaded it. I told lord-
treasurer I should have the advantage of him; for he
would lose his head, and I should only be hanged,
and so carry my body entire to the grave.
9. I was this morning with Mr. Secretary; we are
both of opinion that the queen is false. I told him
what I heard, and he confirmed it by other circum-
stances. I then went to my friend Lewis, who had
sent to me. He talks of nothing but retiring to his
estate in Wales. He gave me reasons to believe the
whole matter is settled between the queen and the
Whigs; he hears that lord Somers is to be treasurer,
and believes that, sooner than turn out the duchess
of Somerset, she will dissolve the parliament, and
get a Whiggish one, which may be done by managing
elections. Things are now in the crisis, and a day
or two will determine. I have desired him to en-
gage lord-treasurer, that as soon as he finds the
change is resolved on, he will send me abroad as
queen's secretary somewhere or other, where I may
remain till the new ministers recall me; and then I
will be sick for five or six months till the storm has
spent itself. I hope he will grant me this; for I
should hardly trust myself to the mercy of my enemies
while their anger is fresh. I dined to-day with the
secretary, who affects mirth, and seems to hope all
will yet be well. I took him aside after dinner, told
him how I had served them, and had asked no re-
ward, but thought I might ask security; and then
desired the same thing of him, to send me abroad
before a change. He embraced me, and swore he
would take the same care of me as himself, &c. ; but
bid me have courage, for that in two days my lord-
treasurer's wisdom would appear greater than ever;
that he suffered all that had happened on purpose,
and had taken measures to turn it to advantage.
said, God send it; but I do not believe a syllable;
I shall
and, as far as I can judge, the game is lost.
know more soon, and my letters will at least be a
good history to show you the steps of this change.
I
10. I was this morning with Lewis, who thinks
they will let the parliament sit till they have given
the money, and then dissolve them in spring, and
break the ministry. He spoke to lord-treasurer
about what I desired him. My lord desired him
with great earnestness to assure me that all would
be well, and that I should fear nothing. I dined in
the city with a friend. This day the commons went
to the queen with their address, and all the lords
who were for the peace went with them to show
their zeal. I have now some further conviction that
the queen is false, and it begins to be known.
11. I went between two and three to see Mrs.
Masham; while I was there she went to her bed-
chamber to try a petticoat. Lord-treasurer came in
to see her, and, seeing me in the outer room, fell a
rallying me; says he, "You had better keep com-
pany with me than with such a fellow as Lewis, who
has not the soul of a chicken nor the heart of a mite."
Then he went in to Mrs. Masham, and as he came
back desired her leave to let me go home with him
to dinner. He asked whether I was not afraid to be
seen with him? I said, I never valued my lord-
treasurer in my life, and therefore should have al-
ways the same esteem for Mr. Harley and lord Ox-
ford. He seemed to talk confidently, as if he
reckoned that all this would turn to advantage. I
could not forbear hinting that he was not sure of the
queen; and that those scoundrel, starving lords
would never have dared to vote against the court, if
Somerset had not assured them that it would please
the queen.
He said that was true, and Somerset
did so.
I stayed till six; then De Buys, the Dutch
envoy, came to him, and I left him. Prior was with
us a while after dinner. I see him and all of them
cast down; though they make the best of it.
me.
The
12. Ford is come to town; I saw him last night;
he is in no fear, but sanguine, although I have told
him the state of things. This change so resembles
the last that I wonder they do not observe it.
secretary sent for me yesterday to dine with him,
but I was abroad; I hope he had something to say to
This is morning, and I write in bed. I am
going to the duke of Ormond, whom I have not yet
seen. Morrow, sirrahs. At night.-I was to see
the duke of Ormond this morning: he asked me two
or three questions after his civil way, and they re-
lated to Ireland: at last I told him that from the
time I had seen him I never once thought of Irish
affairs. He whispered me that he hoped I had
done some good things here: I said, if everybody else
had done half as much, we should not be as we are:
then we went aside and talked over affairs. I told
him how all things stood, and advised him what was
to be done. I then went and sat an hour with the
duchess; then as long with lady Oglethorp, who is
so cunning a devil, that I believe she could yet find
a remedy, if they would take her advice. I dined
with a friend at court.
13. I was this morning with the secretary; he
will needs pretend to talk as if things would be
well; Will you believe it, said he, if you see these
people turned out? I said, Yes, if I saw the duke and
duchess of Somerset out: he swore, if they were not
he would give up his place. Our society dined to-
day at sir William Wyndham's; we were thirteen
present. Lord Orrery and two other members were
introduced; I left them at seven. I forgot to tell
you that the printer told me yesterday that Mor-
phew, the publisher, was sent for by that lord chief-
justice [lord chief-justice Parker] who was
manager against Sacheverel; he showed him two or
three papers and pamplets; among the rest mine of
"The Conduct of the Allies ;" threatened him, asked
who was the author, and has bound him over to ap-
pear next term. He would not have the impu-
dence to do this if he did not foresee what was
coming at court.
a
14. Lord Shelburne was with me this morning to
be informed of the state of affairs, and desired I
would answer all his objections against a peace,
which was soon done, for he would not give me
room to put in a word. He is a man of good sense
enough, but argues so violently, that he will some
day or other put himself into a consumption. He
desires that he may not be denied when he comes to
see me, which I promised, but will not perform.
Leigh and Sterne set out for Ireland on Monday
se'nnight: I suppose they will be with you long be-
fore this. I was to-night drinking very good wine
in scurvy company, at least some of them ;
I was
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
229
drawn in, but will be more cautious for the future;
'tis late, &c.
15. Morning. They say the Occasional Bill is
brought to-day into the house of lords; but I know
not. I will now put an end to my letter, and give it
into the post-house myself. This will be a memo-
rable letter, and I shall sigh to see it some years
hence. Here are the first steps toward the ruin of
an excellent ministry; for I look upon them as cer-
tainly ruined; and God knows what may be the
consequences. I now bid my dearest MD farewell;
for company is coming, and I must be at lord Dart-
mouth's office by noon. Farewell, dearest MD; I
wish you a merry Christmas; I believe you will
have this about that time. Love Presto, who loves
MD above all things a thousand times. Farewell
again, dearest MD, &c.
LETTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH.
London, Dec. 15, 1711.
I PUT in my letter this evening myself. I was to-
day inquiring at the secretary's office of Mr. Lewis
how things went: I there met Prior, who told me he
gave all for gone, &c., and was of opinion the whole
ministry would give up their places next week:
Lewis thinks they will not till spring, when the ses-
sion is over; both of them entirely despair. I went
to see Mrs. Masham, who invited me to dinner; but
I was engaged to Lewis. At four I went to Masham's.
He came and whispered me that he had it from a
very good hand that all would be well, and I found
them both very cheerful. The company was going
The company was going
to the opera, but desired I would come and sup with
them. I did so at ten, and lord-treasurer was there,
and sat with us till past twelve, and was more cheer-
ful than I have seen him these ten days. Mrs. Ma-
sham told me he was mightily cast down some days
ago, and he could not indeed hide it from me.
Arbuthnot is in good hopes that the queen has not
betrayed us, but only has been frightened and flat-
tered, &c. But I cannot yet be of his opinion, whe-
ther my reasons are better or that my fears are
greater. I do resolve, if they give up or are turned
out soon, to retire for some months, and I have
pitched upon the place already: but I will take
methods for hearing from MD and writing to them.
But I would be out of the way upon the first of the
ferment; for they lay all things on me, even some I
have never read.
16. I took courage to-day, and went to court with
a very cheerful countenance. It was mightily
crowded; both parties coming to observe each other's
faces. I have avoided lord Halifax's bow till he
forced it on me; but we did not talk together. I
could not make less than fourscore bows, of which
about twenty might be to Whigs. The duke of
The duke of
Somerset is gone to Petworth, and I hear the
duchess too, of which I shall be very glad. Prince
Eugene, who was expected here some days ago, we
are now told will not come at all. The Whigs de-
signed to have met him with forty thousand horse.
Lord-treasurer told me some days ago of his dis-
course with the emperor's resident, that puppy
Hoffman, about prince Eugene's coming; by which
I found my lord would hinder it if he could; and we
shall be all glad if he does not come, and think it a
good point gained. Sir Andrew Fountaine, Ford,
and I, dined to-day with Mrs. Van by invitation.
Lord-
17. I have mistaken the day of the month, and
been forced to mend it thrice. I dined to-day with
Mr. Masham and his lady by invitation.
treasurer was to be there, but came not. It was to
entertain Buys, the Dutch envoy, who speaks Eng-
|
|
lish well enough: he was plaguily politic, telling a
thousand lies, of which none passed upon any of us
We are still in the condition of suspense, and I
think have little hopes. The duchess of Somer-
set is not gone to Petworth; only the duke, and
that is a poor sacrifice. I believe the queen cer-
tainly
tainly designs to change the ministry, but perhaps
may put it off till the session is over; and I think
they had better give up now, if she will not deal
openly; and then they need not answer for the con-
sequences of a peace, when it is in other hands, and
may yet be broken. They say my lord privy-seal
sets out for Holland this week; so the peace goes on.
18. It has rained hard from morning till night,
and cost me three shillings in coach-hire. We have
had abundance of wet weather. I dined in the city,
and was with the printer, who has now a fifth edition
of the "Conduct," &c.: it is in small, and sold for
sixpence they have printed as many as three edi-
tions, because they are to be sent in numbers into
the country by great men, &c., who subscribe for
hundreds. It has been sent a fortnight ago to Ire-
land: I suppose you will print it there. The Tory
lords and commons in parliament argue all from it;
and all agree that never anything of that kind was
of so great consequence, or made so many converts.
By the time I have sent this letter I expect to hear
from little MD: it will be a month, two days hence,
since I had your last, and I will allow ten days for
accidents. I cannot get rid of the leavings of a
cold I got a month ago, or else it is a new one.
have been writing letters all this evening till I am
weary, and I am sending out another little thing,
which I hope to finish this week, and design to send
to the printer in an unknown hand. There was
printed a Grub-street speech of lord Nottingham;
and he was such an owl to complain of it in the
house of lords, who have taken up the printer for it.
I heard at court that Walpole (a great Whig mem-
ber) said that I and my whimsical club writ it at
one of our meetings, and that I should pay for it.
He will find he lies: and I shall let him know by a
third hand my thoughts of him. He is to be secre-
tary of state if the ministry changes; but he has
lately had a bribe proved against him in parliament,
while he was secretary-at-war. He is one of the
Whigs' chief speakers.
I
I
19. Sad, dismal weather. I went to the secre-
tary's office, and Lewis made me dine with him.
intended to have dined with lord-treasurer. I have
not seen the secretary this week. Things do not
mend at all. Lord Dartmouth despairs, and is for
giving up; Lewis is of the same mind; but lord-
treasurer only says, "Poh, poh, all will be well.”
I am come home early to finish something I am
doing; but I find I want heart and humour; and
would read any idle book that came in my way. I
have just sent away a penny paper to make a little
mischief. Patrick is gone to the burial of an Irish
footman, who was Dr. King's servant; he died of a
consumption, a fit death for a poor starving wit's
footman. The Irish servants always club to bury a
countryman.
:
20. I was with the secretary this morning, and,
for aught I can see, we shall have a languishing
death I can know nothing, nor themselves neither.
I dined, you know, with our society, and that odious
secretary would make me president next week; so I
must entertain them this day se'ennight at the
Thatched House Tavern, where we dined to-day;
it will cost me five or six pounds; yet the secretary
says he will give me wine. I found a letter when I
came home from the bishop of Clogher.
21. This is the first time I ever got a new cold
230
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
before the old one was going: it came yesterday,,
and appeared in all due forms, eyes and nose run-
ning, &c., and is now very bad; and I cannot tell
how I got it. Sir Andrew Fountaine and I were
invited to dine with Mrs. Van. I was this morning
with the duke of Ormond; and neither he nor I can
think of anything to comfort us in present affairs.
We must certainly fall, if the duchess of Somerset
be not turned out; and nobody believes the queen
will ever part with her. The duke and I were set-
tling when Mr. Secretary and I should dine with
him, and he fixed upon Tuesday; and when I came
away I remembered it was Christmas-day. I was to
see lady who is just up after lying-in; and the
ugliest sight I have seen, pale, dead, old, and yellow,
for want of her paint. She has turned my stomach.
But she will soon be painted, and a beauty again.
22. I find myself disordered with a pain all round
the small of my back, which I imputed to cham-
pagne I had drunk; but find it to have been only
my new cold. It was a fine frosty day, and I re-
solved to walk into the city. I called at lord-trea-
surer's at eleven, and stayed some time with him.—
He showed me a letter from a great presbyterian
parson [Mr. Shower] to him, complaining how their
friends had betrayed them by passing this Conformity
Bill;
and he showed me the answer he had written,
which his friends would not let him send; but was
a very good one. He is very cheerful; but gives
one no hopes, nor has any to give. I went into the
city, and there I dined.
23. Morning. As I was dressing to go to church,
a friend that was to see me advised me not to stir
out; so I shall keep at home to-day, and only eat
some broth, if I can get it. It is a terrible cold
frost, and snow fell yesterday, which still remains;
look there, you may see it from the penthouses.
The lords made yesterday two or three votes about
peace, and Hanover, of a very angry kind, to vex
the ministry, and they will meet sooner by a fort-
night than the commons; and, they say, are prepar-
ing some knocking addresses. Morrow, sirrals. I'll
sit at home, and when I go to bed I will tell you
how I am. I have sat at home all day, and eaten
only a mess of broth and a roll. I have written a
"Prophecy," which I design to print; I did it to-
day, and some other verses.
24. I went into the city to-day in a coach, and
dined there. My cold is going. It is now bitter
hard frost, and has been so these three or four days.
My Prophecy [The Windsor Prophecy] is printed,
and will be published after Christmas-day; I like it
mightily; I don't know how it will pass. You will
never understand it at your distance without help.
I believe everybody will guess it to be mine, because
it is somewhat in the same manner with that of
"Merlin," in the Miscellanies. My lord privy-scal
set out this day for Holland: he'll have a cold jour-
ney.
I gave Patrick half-a-crown for his Christmas-
box, on condition he would be good, and he came
home drunk at midnight. I have taken a memo-
randum of it, because I never design to give him a
groat more. 'Tis cruel cold.
25. I wish MD a merry Christmas, and many a
one; but mine is melancholy: I durst not go to
church to-day, finding myself a little out of order,
and it snowing prodigiously, and freezing. At noon
I went to Mrs. Van, who had this week engaged me
to dine there to-day: and there I received the news
that poor Mrs. Long died at Lynn in Norfolk on
Saturday last, at four in the morning; she was sick
but four hours. We suppose it was the asthma,
which she was subject to as well as the dropsy, as
she sent me word in her last letter, written about
The poor
five weeks ago; but then said she was recovered. I
never was more afflicted at any death.
creature had retired to Lynn two years ago, to live
cheap and pay her debts. In her last letter she told
me she hoped to be easy by Christmas; and she
kept her word, although she meant it otherwise.
She had all sorts of amiable qualities, and no ill
ones, but the indiscretion of too much neglecting her
own affairs. She had two thousand pounds left her
by an old grandmother, with which she intended to
pay her debts, and live on an annuity she had of one
hundred pounds a-year, and Newburg-house, which
would be about sixty pounds more. That odious
grandmother living so long forced her to retire; for
the two thousand pounds was settled on her after the
old woman's death, yet her brute of a brother, sir
James Long, would not advance it for her; else she
might have paid her debts, and continued here, and
lived still: I believe melancholy helped her on to
her grave. I have ordered a paragraph to be put in
the Post-Boy, giving an account of her death, and
making honourable inention of her; which is all I
can do to serve her memory: but one reason was
spite; for her brother would fain have her death a
secret, to save the charge of bringing her up here to
bury her, or going into mourning. Pardon all this,
for the sake of a poor creature I had so much friend-
ship for.
26. I went to Mr. Secretary this morning, and he
would have me dine with him. I called at noon at
Mrs. Masham's, who desired me not to let the
"Prophecy" be published, for fear of angering the
queen about the duchess of Somerset ; so I writ to
the printer to stop them. They have been printed
and given about, but not sold. I saw lord-treasurer
there, who had been two hours with the queen:
and Mrs. Masham is in hopes things will do well
again. I went at night again, and supped at Mr.
Masham's, and lord-treasurer sat with us till one
o'clock. So 'tis late, &c.
27. I entertained our society at the Thatched
Hodse tavern to-day at dinner; but brother Bathurst
sent for wine, the house affording none. The printer
had not received my letter, and so he brought up
dozens a-piece of the Prophecy; but I ordered him
to part with no more. 'Tis an admirable good one,
and people are mad for it. The frost still continues
violently cold. Mrs. Masham invited me to come to-
night and play at cards; but our society did not part
till nine. But I supped with Mrs. Hill, her sister, and
there was Mrs. Masham and lord-treasurer, and we
stayed till twelve. Ile is endeavouring to geta majority
against next Wednesday, when the house of lords is
to meet, and the Whigs intend to make some violent
addresses against a peace, if not prevented. God
knows what will become of us. It is still prodigiously
cold; but so I told you already; we have eggs on
the spit, I wish they may not be addle. When I
came home to-night I found, forsooth, a letter from
MD, No. 24, 24, 24, 24; there, do you know the
numbers know? and at the same time one from Joe,
full of thanks: let him know I have received it, and
am glad of his success, but won't put him to the
charge of a letter. I had a letter some time ago from
Mr. Warburton [the doctor's curate at Laracor], and
I beg one of you will copy out what I shall tell you,
and send it by some opportunity to Warburton. Tis
as follows: "The doctor has received Mr. Warbur-
ton's letter, and desires he will let the doctor know
where that accident he mentions is like soon to hap-
pen, and he will do what he can in it."-And pray,
madam, let them know, that I do this to save my-
self the trouble, and them the expense of a letter.
And I think this is enough for one that comes home
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
231
at twelve from a lord-treasurer and Mrs. Masham.
O, I could tell you ten thousand things of our mad
politics, upon what small circumstances great affairs
have turned. But I will go rest my busy head.
28. I was this morning with brother Bathurst to sec
the duke of Ormond. We have given his grace some
hopes to be one of our society. The secretary and I
and Bathurst are to dine with him on Sunday next.
The duke is not in much hopes, but has been very
busy in endeavouring to bring over some lords against
next Wednesday. The duchess caught me as I was
going out; she is sadly in fear about things, and
blames me for not mending them by my credit with
lord-treasurer; and I blame her. She met me in
the street at noon, and engaged me to dine with her,
which I did: and we talked an hour after dinner in
her closet. If we miscarry on Wednesday, I believe
it will be by some strange sort of neglect. They
talk of making eight new lords, by calling up some
peers' eldest sons; but they delay strangely. I saw
judge Coote to-day at the duke of Ormond's; he
desires to come and see me, to justify his principles.
29. Morning. This goes to-day. I will not answer
yours, your 24th, till next, which shall begin to-night,
Lord Shelburne has sent to invite me to
dinner, but I am engaged with Lewis at Ned South-❘
well's. Lord Northampton and lord Aylesbury's
sons are both made peers; but we shall want more.
I write this post to your dean. I owe the archbishop
a letter this long time. All people that come from
Ireland complain of him, and scold me for protecting
hin. Pray, madam Dingley, let me know what
Presto has received for this year, or whether anything
is due to him for last: I cannot look over your for-
mer letters now. As for Dingley's own account of
her exchequer money, I will give it on t'other side.
Farewell, my own dearest MD, and love Presto;
and God ever bless dearest MD, &c. &c. I wish
you many happy Christmases and new years.
as usual.
I have owned to the dean a letter I just had from
you; but that I had not one this great while before.
DINGLEY'S ACCOUNT.
Received of Mr. Tooke
•
Deducted for entering the letter of attorney
For the three half-crowns it used to cost you, I don't
know why nor wherefore
For exchange to Ireland.
For coach-hire
•
£ s. d.
6 17 6
0 2 6
0 7 6
0 10 0
0 2 6
In all, just 8 0 0
So there's your money, and we are both even: for
I'll pay you no more than that eight pounds Irish,
and pray be satisfied.
Churchwarden's accounts, boys.
Saturday night. I have broke open my letter, and
tore it into the bargain, to let you know that we are
all safe; the queen has made no less than twelve
lords to have a majority; nine new ones, the other
three peers' sons; and has turned out the duke of
Somerset. She is awaked at last, and so is lord-
treasurer: I want nothing now but to see the duchess
out. But we shall do without her. We are all ex-
tremely happy. Give me joy, sirrahs. This is written
in a coffee-house. Three of the new lords are of
our society.
LETTER THE THIRTY-EIGHTH.
London, Dec. 29, 1711.
I PUT my letter in this evening, after coming from
dinner at Ned Southwell's, where I drank very good
Irish wine, and we are in great joy at this happy
turn of affairs. The queen has been at last per-
suaded to her own interest and security, and I freely
think she must have made both herself and kingdom
very unhappy if she had done otherwise. It is still
a mighty secret that Masham is to be one of the new
lords; they say he does not yet know it himself; but
the queen is to surprise him with it. Mr. Secretary
will be a lord at the end of the session: but they
want him still in parliament. After all, it is a strange
unhappy necessity of making so many peers together;
but the queen has drawn it upon herself by her con-
founded trimming and moderation. Three, as I told
you, are of our society.
I was
30. I writ the dean and you a lie yesterday; for
the duke of Somerset is not yet turned out.
to-day at court, and resolved to be very civil to the
Whigs, but saw few there. When I was in the bed-
chamber talking to lord Rochester, he went up to
lady Burlington, who asked him who I was; and
lady Sunderland and she whispered about me: I
desired lord Rochester to tell lady Sunderland I
doubted she was not as much in love with me as I
was with her; but he would not deliver my message.
The duchess of Shrewsbury came running up to me,
and clapped her fan up to hide us from the company,
and we gave one another joy of this change; but
sighed when we reflected on the Somerset family not
being out. The secretary and I, and brother Bath-
urst, and lord Windsor, dined with the duke of Or-
mond. Bathurst and Windsor are to be two of the
new lords. I desired my lord Radnor's brother, at
court to-day, to let my lord know I would call on him
at six, which I did, and was arguing with him three
hours to bring him over to us, and I spoke so closely
that I believe he will be tractable; but he is a
scoundrel, and though I said I only talked for my
love to him, I told a lie, for I did not care if he were
hanged: but every one gained over is of consequence.
The duke of Marlborough was at court to-day, and
nobody hardly took notice of him. Masham's being
a lord begins to take wind: nothing at court can be
kept a secret.
kept a secret. Wednesday will be a great day: you
shall know more.
31. Our frost is broken since yesterday, and it is
very slabbery; yet I walked to the city and dined,
and ordered some things with the printer. I have
settled Dr. King in the Gazette; it will be worth two
hundred pounds a-year to him. Our new lords'
patents are passed: I don't like the expedient, if we
could have found any other. I see I have said this
before. I hear the duke of Marlborough is turned
out of all his employments: I shall know to-morrow,
when I am to carry Dr. King to dine with the secre-
tary. These are strong remedies; pray God the
patient is able to bear them. The last ministry peo-
ple are utterly desperate.
I dined
January 1. Now I wish my dearest little MD many
happy new years; yes, both Dingley and Stella, ay,
and Presto too, many happy new years.
with the secretary, and it is true that the duke of
Marlborough is turned out of all. The duke of Or-
mond has got his regiment of foot-guards, I know not
who has the rest. If the ministry be not sure of a
peace, I shall wonder at this step, and do not approve
it at best. The queen and lord-treasurer mortally
hate the duke of Marlborough, and to that he owes
his fall, more than to his other faults: unless he has
been tampering too far with his party, of which I
have not heard any particulars; however it be, the
world abroad will blame us. I confess my belief that
he has not one good quality in the world beside that
several great soldiers. But we have had constant
of a general, and even that I have heard denied by
success in arms while he commanded. Opinion is a
mighty matter in war, and I doubt the French think
it impossible to conquer an army that he leads, and
1
232
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
our soldiers think the same; and how far even this
step may encourage the French to play tricks with
us, no man knows. I do not love to see personal
resentment mix with public affairs.
2. This being the day the lords meet, and the new
peers to be introduced, I went to Westminster to
see the sight; but the crowd was too great in the
house. So I only went into the robing-room, to give
my four brothers joy, and sir Thomas Mansel, and
lord Windsor; the other six I am not acquainted
with. It was apprehended the Whigs would have
raised some difficulties, but nothing happened. I
went to see lady Masham at noon, and wish her joy
of her new honour, and a happy new year. I found
her very well pleased: for a peerage will be some
sort of protection to her upon any turn of affairs.
She engaged me to come at night, and sup with her
and lord-treasurer. I went at nine, and she was not
at home, so I would not stay.-No, no, I won't an-
swer your letter yet, young women. I dined with a
friend in the neighbourhood. I see nothing here
like Christmas, excepting brawn or mince-pies in
places where I dine, and giving away my half-crowns
like farthings to great men's porters and butlers.
Yesterday I paid seven good guineas to the fellow at
the tavern, where I treated the society. I have a
great mind to send you the bill. I think I told you
some articles. I have not heard whether anything
was done in the house of lords after introducing
the new ones. Ford has been sitting with me till
peeast tweelve a clock.
3. This was our society day; lord Dupplin was
president; we choose every week; the last pre-
sident treats and chooses his successor. I believe
our dinner cost fifteen pounds beside wine. The
secretary grew brisk, and would not let me go, nor
lord Lansdown, who would fain have gone home to
his lady, being newly married to lady Mary Thynne.
It was near one when we parted, so you must think
I can't write much to-night. The adjourning of the
house of lords yesterday, as the queen desired, was
just carried by the twelve new lords, and one more.
Lord Radnor was not there; I hope I have cured
him. Did I tell you that I have brought Dr. King in
to be Gazetteer? It will be worth about two hundred
pounds a-year to him: I believe I told you so before,
but I am forgetful. Go, get you gone to ombre, and
claret, and toasted oranges. I'll go sleep.
4. I cannot get rid of the leavings of my cold. I
was in the city to-day, and dined with my printer,
and gave him a ballad made by several hands, I
know not whom. I believe lord-treasurer had a
finger in it; I added three stanzas; I suppose Dr.
Arbuthnot had the greatest share. I have been over-
seeing some other little prints, and a pamphlet made
by one of my understrappers. Somerset is not out
yet. I doubt not but you will have the "Prophecy"
in Ireland, although it is not published here, only
printed copies given to friends. Tell me, do you
understand it? No, faith, not without help. Tell me
what you stick at, and I'll explain. We turned out
a member of our society yesterday for gross neglect
and non-attendance. I writ to him by order to give
him notice of it. It is Tom Harley, secretary to the
treasurer, and cousin-german to lord-treasurer. He
is going to Hanover from the queen. I am to give
the duke of Ormond notice of his election as soon as
I can see him.
5. I went this morning with a parishioner of mine,
one Nuttal, who came over here for a legacy of one
hundred pounds, and a roguish lawyer had refused to
pay him, and would not believe he was the man.
writ to the lawyer a sharp letter, that I had taken
Nuttal into my protection, and was resolved to stand
I
by him, and the next news was, that the lawyer
desired I would meet him, and attest he was the man,
which I did, and his money was paid upon the spot.
I then visited lord-treasurer, who is now right again,
and all well, only that the Somerset family is not out.
yet. I hate that; I don't like it, as the man said, by,
&c. Then I went and visited poor Will Congreve,
who had a French fellow tampering with one of his
eyes; he is almost blind of both. I dined with
some merchants in the city, but could not see Strat-
ford, with whom I had business. Presto, leave off
your impertinence, and answer our letter, saith
MD. Yes, yes, one of these days, when I have
nothing else to do. O, faith, this letter is a week
written, and not one side done yet.-These ugly
spots are not tobacco, but this is the last gilt sheet I
have of large paper, therefore hold your tongue.
Nuttal was surprised when they gave him bits of
paper instead of money, but I made Ben Tooke put
him in his geers; he could not reckon ten pounds,
but was puzzled with the Irish way. Ben Tooke and
my printer have desired me to make them stationers
to the ordnance, of which lord Rivers is master, in-
stead of the duke of Marlborough. It will be a
hundred pounds a-year a-piece to them, if I can get
it. I will try to-morrow.
6. I went this morning to earl Rivers, gave him
joy of his new employment, and desired him to
prefer my printer and bookseller to be stationers to
his office. He immediately granted it me; but, like
an old courtier, told me it was wholly on my account,
but that he heard I had intended to engage Mr.
Secretary to speak to him, and desired I would
engage him to do so, but that, however, he did it
only for my sake. This is a court trick, to oblige
as many as you can at once. I read prayers to poor
Mrs. Wesley, who is very much out of order, in-
stead of going to church; and then I went to court,
which I found very full, in expectation of seeing
prince Eugene, who landed last night, and lies at
Leicester-house: he was not to see the queen till six
this evening. I hope and believe he comes too late
to do the Whigs any good. I refused dining with
the secretary, and was like to lose my dinner, which
was at a private acquaintance's. I went at six to see
the prince at court, but he was gone in to the queen;
and when he came out Mr. Secretary, who intro-
duced him, walked so near him, that he quite screened
me from him with his great periwig. I'll tell you a
good passage: as prince Eugene was going with Mr.
Secretary to court, he told the secretary "that Hoff-
man, the emperor's resident, said to his highness
that it was not proper to go to court without a long
wig, and his was a tied-up one: now, says the prince,
I knew not what to do, for I never had a long peri
wig in my life; and I have sent to all my valets and
footmen, to see whether any of them have one, that
I might borrow it, but none of them has any.".
Was not this spoken very greatly with some sort of
contempt? But the secretary said it was a thing of
no consequence, and only observed by gentlemen-
ushers. I supped with lord Masham, where lord-
treasurer and Mr. Secretary supped with us: the
first left us at twelve, but the rest did not part till two,
yet I have written all this, because it is fresh; and
now I'll go sleep if I can; that is, I believe I shall
because I have drank a little.
7. I was this morning to give the duke of Ormond
notice of the honour done him to make him one of our
society, and to invite him on Thursday next to the
Thatched-house: he has accepted it with the grati-
tude and humility such a preferment deserves, but
cannot come till the next meeting, because prince
Eugene is to dine with him that day, which I allowed
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
233
for a good excuse, and will report accordingly. I
dined with lord Masham, and sat there till eight this
evening, and came home because I was not very well,
but a little griped; but now I am well again, I will
not go, at least but very seldom, to lord Masham's
suppers. Lord-treasurer is generally there, and that
tempts me; but late sitting up does not agree with
me: there's the short and the long, and I won't do it
so take
your answer, dear little young women; and I
have no more to say to you to-night, because of the
archbishop, for I am going to write a long letter to
him, but not so politicly as formerly: I won't trust
him.
8. Well then, come, let us see this letter; if I
must answer it, I must. What's here, now? yes,
faith, I lamented my birthday two days after, that's all:
and you rhyme, madam Stella: were those verses
made upon my birthday? faith, when I read them,
I had them running in my head all the day, and said
them over a thousand times: they drank your health
in all their glasses, and wished, &c. I could not get
them out of my head. What! no, I believe it was
not; what do I say upon the eighth of December?
Compare, and see whether I say so. I am glad of
Mrs. Stoyte's recovery, heartily glad; your Dolly
Manley's and bishop of Cloyne's child I have no
concern about: I am sorry in a civil way, that's all.
Yes, yes, sir George St. George dead.-Go, cry,
madam Dingley; I have written to the dean. Ray-
mond will be rich, for he has the building itch. I
wish all he has got may put him out of debt. Poh,
I have fires like lightning; they cost me twelve-
pence a-week, beside small coal. I have got four new
caps, madam, very fine and convenient, with striped
cambric instead of muslin; so Patrick need not
mend them, but take the old ones. Stella snatched
Dingley's word out of her pen; Presto a cold; why,
all the world here is dead with them: I never had
anything like it in my life; 'tis not gone in five
weeks. I hope Leigh is with you before this, and
has brought your box. How do you like the ivory
like the ivory
rasp? Stella is angry; but I'll have a finer thing for
her. Is not the apron as good? I am sure I shall
never be paid it: so all's well again.-What, the
quarrel with sir John Walters? Why, we had not
one word of quarrel; only he railed at me when I
was gone, and lord-keeper and treasurer teased me
for a week. It was nuts to them; a serious thing
with a vengeance.-The Whigs may sell their estates
then, or hang themselves, as they are disposed; for
a peace there will be. Lord-treasurer told me that
Conolly was going to Hanover. Your provost is a
coxcomb. Stella is a good girl for not being angry
when I tell her of spelling; I see none wrong in
this. God Almighty be praised that your disorders
lessen; it increases my hopes mightily that they
will go off. And have you been plagued with the
fear of the plague? never mind those reports; I have
heard them five hundred times. Replevi? Replevin,
simpleton; 'tis Dingley I mean; but it is a hard
word, and so I'll excuse it. I stated Dingley's ac-
counts in my last. I forgot Catherine's sevenpenny
dinner. I hope it was the beef-steaks; I'll call and
eat them in spring; but Goody Stoyte must give me
coffee, or green tea, for I drink no bohea. Well, ay,
the pamphlet; but there are some additions to the
fourth edition; the fifth edition was of four thousand,
in a smaller print, sold for sixpence. Yes, I had the
twenty-pound bill from Parvisol: and what then?
Pray now eat the Laracor apples; I beg you not to
keep them, but tell me what they are. You have
a Dr. Swift, upon his birthday, used always to read the third
chapter of Job.
had Tooke's bill in my last. And 80, there now, your
whole letter is answered. I tell you what I do; I lay
your letter before me, and take it in order, and an-
swer what is necessary; and so and so. Well; when
I expected we were all undone, I designed to retire
for six months, and then steal over to Laracor; and
I had in my mouth a thousand times two lines of
Shakspeare, where cardinal Wolsey says,
"A weak old man, batter'd with storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among you.'
I beg your pardon; I have cheated you all this margin.
I did not perceive it; and I went on wider and wider
like Stella; awkward sluts, she writes so so, there:a
that's as like as two eggs a penny.-A weak old man:
now I am saying it, and shall till to-morrow. The duke
of Marlborough says there is nothing he now desires
so much as to contrive some way how to soften Dr.
Swift. He is mistaken; for those things that have
been hardest against him were not written by me.
Mr. Secretary told me this from a friend of the duke's;
and I'm sure, now he is down, I shall not trample on
him; although I love him not, I dislike his being
out.-Bernage was to see me this morning, and gave
some very indifferent excuses for not calling here so
long. I care not twopence. Prince Eugene did not
dine with the duke of Marlborough on Sunday, but
was last night at lady Betty Germain's assemblée,
and a vast number of ladies to see him. Mr. Lewis
and I dined with a private friend. I was this morn-
ing to see the duke of Ormond, who appointed me
to meet him at the cockpit at one, but never came. I
sat too some time with the duchess. We don't like
things very well yet. I am come home early, and
going to be busy. I'll go write.
9. I could not go sleep last night till past two, and
was waked before three by a noise of people endea-
vouring to break open my window. For a while I
would not stir, thinking it might be my imagination;
but hearing the noise continued, I rose and went to
the window, and then it ceased. I went to bed again
and heard it repeated more violently; then I rose
and called up the house, and got a candle: the
rogues had lifted up the sash a yard; there are great
sheds before my windows, although my lodgings be
a story high; and if they get upon the sheds they
are almost even with my window. We observed
their track, and panes of glass fresh broken. The
watchmen told us to-day they saw them, but could
not catch them. They attacked others in the neigh-
bourhood about the same time, and actually robbed
a house in Suffolk-street, which is the next street but
one to us. It is said they are seamen discharged from
service. I went up to call my man, and found his
bed empty; it seems he often lies abroad. I chal-
lenged him this morning as one of the robbers. He
is a sad dog; and the minute I come to Ireland I will
discard him. I have this day got double iron bars to
every window in my dining-room and bed-chamber;
and I hide my purse in my thread stocking between
the bed's head and the wainscoat. Lewis and I dined
with an old Scotch friend, who brought the duke of
Douglas, and three or four more Scots upon us.
10. This was our society day you know; but the
duke of Ormond could not be with us, because he
dined with prince Eugene. It cost me a guinea con-
tribution to a poet who had made a copy of verses
upon monkeys, applying the story to the duke of
Marlborough; the rest gave two guineas, except the
two physicians, who followed my example. I don't
like this custom: the next time I will give nothing.
I sat this evening at lord Masham's with lord-trea-
a These words in the manuscript imitate Stella's writing, and
are sloped the wrong way.
234
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
surer: I don't like his countenance; nor I don't
like the posture of things well.
We cannot be stout till Somerset's out:
as the old saying is.
11. Mr. Lewis and I dined with the chancellor of
the exchequer, who eats the most elegantly of any
man I know in town. I walked lustily in the park
by moonshine till eight, to shake off my dinner and
wine; and then went to sup at Mr. Domville's with
Ford, and stayed till twelve. It is told me to-day
0
him as many as came to two hundred pounds, which
rejoiced us much; besides, he talked so frankly,
that we might think there is no danger. I asked
him, "Was there any more to be settled between us
in my affair?" He said, "No;" and answering my
questions just as Tooke had got them from others;
so I hope I am safe. This has been a scurvy affair.
I believe Stella would have laughed at me to see a
suspicious fellow like me overreached. I saw prince
Eugene to-day at court: I don't think him an ugly-
faced fellow, but well enough, and a good shape.
as a great secret that the duke of Somerset will be
out soon; that the thing is fixed; but what shall we
do with the duchess? They say the duke will make
her leave the queen out of spite, if he be out. It has
stuck upon that fear a good while already. Well,
but Lewis gave me a letter from MD, No. 25.
Lord, I did not expect one this fortnight, faith. You
are mighty good, that's certain: but I wont answer
it, because this goes to-morrow, only what you say
of the printer being taken up; I value it not; all's
safe there; nor do I fear anything, unless the minis-
try be changed; I hope that danger is over. How-
ever, I shall be in Ireland before such a change;
which could not be I think till the end of the ses-
sion, if the Whigs' designs had gone on.- -Have not
you an apron by Leigh, madam Stella? have you all night I sat with lord Masham till one.
14. The parliament was to sit to-day; and met;
but were adjourned by the queen's directions till
Thursday. She designs to make some important
speech then. She pretended illness; but I believe
they were not ready, and they expect some opposi-
tion: and the Scotch lords are angry, and must be
pacified. I was this morning to invite the duke of
Ormond to our society on Thursday, where he is
then to be introduced. He has appointed me at
twelve to-morrow about some business: I would
fain have his help to impeach a certain lord: but I
doubt we shall make nothing of it.
of it. I intended to
have dined with lord-treasurer, but I was told he
would be busy: so I dined with Mrs. Van; and at
Lord-trea-
I mentioned in a former letter?
12. Morning. This goes to-day as usual. I think
of going into the city; but of that at night. 'Tis
fine moderate weather these two or three days last.
Farewell, &c. &c.
LETTER THE THIRTY-NINTH.
London, Jan. 12, 1711-12.
WHEN I sealed up my letter this morning I looked
upon myself to be not worth a groat in the world.
Last night, after Mr. Ford and I left Domville, Ford
desired me to go with him for a minute upon earnest
business, and then told me that both he and I were
ruined; for he had trusted Stratford with five hun-
dred pounds for tickets for the lottery, and he had
been with Stratford, who confessed he had lost fif-
teen thousand pounds by sir Stephen Evans, who
broke last week; that he concluded Stratford must
break too; that he could not get his tickets, but
Stratford made him several excuses, which seemed
very blind ones, &c. And Stratford had near four
hundred pounds of mine to buy me five hundred
pounds in the South Sea Company. I came home
reflecting a little; nothing concerned me but MD.
I called all my philosophy and religion up; and
I thank God it did not keep me awake beyond my
usual time above a quarter of an hour. This morn-
ing I sent for Tooke, whom I had employed to buy
the stock of Stratford, and settle things with him.
He told me I was secure; for Stratford had trans-
ferred it to me in form in the South Sea House, and
he had accepted it for me, and all was done on
stamped parchment. However, he would be further
informed; and at night sent me a note to confirm
However, I am not yet secure; and, besides,
am in pain for Ford, whom I first brought acquainted
with Stratford. I dined in the city.
me.
13. Domville and I dined with Ford to-day by
appointment; the lord Mansel told me at court to-
day that I was engaged to him; but Stratford had
promised Ford to meet him and me to-night at
Ford's lodgings. He did so; said he had hopes to
save himself in his affair with Evans. Ford asked
him for his tickets: he said he would send them to-
morrow; but, looking in his pocket-book, said he
believed he had some of them about him, and gave
surer was there, and chid me for not dining with
him: he was in very good humour: I brought home
two flasks of burgundy in my chair: I wish MD
had them. You see it is very late; so I'll go to bed,
and bid MD good night.
15. This morning I presented my printer and
bookseller to lord Rivers, to be stationers to the
ordnance: stationers, that's the word, I did not
write it plain at first. I believe it will be worth
three hundred pounds a-year between them. This
is the third employment I have got for them. Rivers
told them the doctor commanded him, and he durst
not refuse it. I would have dined with lord-trea-
surer to-day again, but lord Mansel would not let
me, and forced me home with him. I was very deep
with the duke of Ormond to-day at the cockpit,
where we met to be private; but I doubt I cannot
do the mischief I intended. My friend Penn came
there, Will Penn the Quaker, at the head of his
brethren, to thank the duke for his kindness to their
people in Ireland. To see a dozen scoundrels with
their hats on, and the duke complimenting them
with his off, was a good sight enough. I sat this
evening with sir William Robinson, who has mighty
often invited me to a bottle of wine: and it is past
twelve.
16. This being fast-day, Dr. Freind and I went
into the city to dine late, like good fasters. My
printer and bookseller want me to hook in another
employment for them in the Tower, because it was
enjoyed before by a stationer, although it be to serve
the ordnance with oil, tallow, &c., and is worth four
hundred pounds per annum more: I will try what I
can do. They are resolved to ask several other
employments of the same nature to other offices
and I will then grease fat sows, and see whether it
be possible to satisfy them. Why am not I a sta-
tioner? The parliament sits to-morrow, and Walpole,
late secretary-at-war, is to be swinged for bribery,
and the queen is to communicate something of great
importance to the two houses, at least they say so.
But I must think of answering your letter in a day
or two.
17. I went this morning to the duke of Ormond
about some business, and he told me he could not
dine with us to-day, being to dine with prince
Eugene, Those of our society of the house of
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
235
not come.
commons could not be with us, the house sitting
late on Walpole. I left them at nine, and they were
We kept some dinner for them. I hope
Walpole will be sent to the Tower, and expelled the
house; but this afternoon the members I spoke with
in the court of requests talked dubiously of it. It
will be a leading card to maul the duke of Marl-
borough for the same crime, or at least to censure
him. The queen's message was only to give them
notice of the peace she is treating, and to desire they
will make some law to prevent libels against the
government; so farewell to Grub-street.
18. I heard to-day that the commoners of our
society did not leave the parliament till eleven at
night, then went to those I left and stayed till three
in the morning. Walpole is expelled and sent to
the Tower. I was this morning again with lord
Rivers, and have made him give the other employ-
ment to my printer and bookseller; 'tis worth a
great deal.
I dined with my friend Lewis privately
to talk over affairs. We want to have this duke of
Somerset out, and he apprehends it will not be, but
I hope better. They are going now at last to change
the commissioners of the customs: my friend sir
Matthew Dudley will be out, and three more, and
Prior will be in. I have made Ford copy out a
small pamphlet and send it to the press, that I might
not be known for author; 'tis "A Letter to the
October Club," if ever you heard of such a thing.-
Methinks this letter goes on but slowly for almost a
week; I want some little conversation with MD,
and to know what they are doing just now.
sick of politics. I have not dined with lord-treasurer
these three weeks: he chides me, but I don't care :
I don't.
I am
I
19. I dined to-day with lord-treasurer; this is
his day of choice company, where they sometimes
admit me, but pretend to grumble. And to-day they
met on some extraordinary business; the keeper,
steward, both secretaries, lord Rivers, and lord
Anglesey: I left them at seven and came away, and
have been writing to the bishop of Clogher.
forgot to know where to direct to him since sir
George St. George's death, but I have directed to
the same house: you must tell me better, for the
letter is sent by the bellman. Don't write to me
again till this is gone, I charge you, for I won't
answer two letters together. The duke of Somerset
is out, and was with his yellow liveries at parliament
to-day. You know he had the same with the queen
when he was master of the horse: we hope the
duchess will follow, or that he will take her away in
spite. Lord-treasurer I hope has now saved his
head. Has the dean received my letter? ask him
at cards to-night.
20. There was a world of people to-day at court
to see prince Eugene, but all bit, for he did not
come. I saw the duchess of Somerset talking with
the duke of Buckingham; she looked a little down,
but was extremely courteous. The queen has the
gout, but is not in much pain. Must I fill this line
too?a well then, so let it be. The duke of Beaufort
has a mighty mind to come into our society; shall
we let him? I spoke to the duke of Ormond about
and he doubts a little whether to let him in or no.
They say the duke of Somerset is advised by his
friends to let his wife stay with the queen; I am
sorry for it. I dined with the secretary to-day with
mixed company; I don't love it. Our society does
not meet till Friday, because Thursday will be a
busy day in the house of commons, for then the
duke of Marlborough's bribery is to be examined
It is the last of the page, and written close to the edge of
the paper.
into about the pension paid him by those that
furnished bread to the army.
21. I have been five times with the duke of Ormond
about a perfect trifle, and he forgets it: I used him
like a dog this morning for it. I was asked to-day
by several in the court of requests whether it was
true that the author of the Examiner was taken
up in an action of twenty thousand pounds by the
duke of Marlborough? I dined in the city, where
Advice
my printer showed me a pamphlet, called
to the October Club,' which he said was sent him
by an unknown hand: I commended it mightily;
he never suspected me; 'tis a twopenny pamphlet.
I came home and got timely to bed; but about
eleven one of the secretary's servants came to me to
let me know that lord-treasurer would immediately
speak to me at lord Masham's upon earnest business;
and that, if I was a-bed, I should rise and come.
did so; lord-treasurer was above with the queen;
and when he came down he laughed, and said it was
not he that sent for me: the business was of no great
importance, only to give me a paper, which might
have been done to-morrow. I stayed with them till
past one, and then got to bed again. Pize take their
frolics. I thought to have answered your letter.
I
22. Dr. Gastrel was to see me this morning; he
is an eminent divine, one of the canons of Christ
Church, and one I love very well: he said he was
glad to find I was not with James Broad. I asked
what he meant: "Why," says he, "have you not
seen the Grub-street paper that says Dr. Swift was
taken up as author of the Examiner,' on an action
of twenty thousand pounds, and was now at James
Broad's?" who, I suppose, is some bailiff. I knew
of this; but at the court of requests twenty people
told me they heard I had been taken up. Lord
Lansdown observed to the secretary and me that the
Whigs spread three lies yesterday; that about me;
and another, that Macartney, who was turned out
last summer, is again restored to his places in the
army; and the third, that Jack Hill's commission
for lieutenant of the Tower is stopped, and that
Cadogan is to continue. Lansdown thinks they
have some design by these reports; I cannot guess
it. Did I tell you that Sacheverel has desired
mightily to come and see me? but I have put it off:
he has heard that I have spoken to the secretary in
behalf of a brother whom he maintains, and who de-
sires an employment. T'other day at the court of
requests, Dr. Yalden saluted me by name: Sache-
verel, who was just by, came up to me, and made
me many acknowledgments and compliments. Last
night I desired lord-treasurer to do something for
that brother of Sacheverel's: he said he never knew
he had a brother, but thanked me for telling him,
and immediately put his name in his table-book. I
will let Sacheverel know this, that he may take his
measures accordingly; but he shall be none of my
acquaintance. I dined to-day privately with the
secretary, left him at six, paid a visit or two, and
came home.
23. I dined again to-day with the secretary, but
could not despatch some business I had with him,
he has so much besides upon his hands at this junc-
ture, and preparing against the great business to-
morrow, which we are top-full of. The ministers'
design is, that the duke of Marlborough shall be
censured as gently as possible, provided his friends
will not make head to defend him, but if they do it
may end in some severer votes. A gentleman who
was just now with him tells me he is much cast
down and fallen away; but he is positive, if he has
but ten friends in the house, that they shall defend
him to the utmost, and endeavour to prevent the
236
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
least censure upon him, which I think cannot be,
since the bribery is manifest. Sir Solomon Medina
paid him six thousand pounds a-year to have the
employment of providing bread for the army, and
the duke owns it in his letter to the commissioners
of accounts. I was to-night at lord Masham's;
lord Dupplin took out my new little pamphlet, and
the secretary read a great deal of it to lord-treasurer :
they all commended it to the skies, and so did I; and
they began a health to the author. But I doubt
lord-treasurer suspected, for he said, "This is Dr.
Davenant's style," which is his cant when he sus-
pects me. But I carried the matter very well.
Lord-treasurer put the pamphlet in his pocket to
read at home. I'll answer your letter to-morrow.
I
24. The secretary made me promise to dine with
him to-day after the parliament was up; I said I
would come; but I dined at my usual time, know-
ing the house would sit late on this great affair.
dined at a tavern with Mr. Domville and another
gentleman; I have not done so before these many
months. At ten this evening I went to the secretary,
but he was not come home. I sat with his lady till
twelve, then came away; and he just came as I was
gone, and he sent to my lodgings, but I would not
back; and so I know not how things have passed,
go
but hope all is well; and I will tell you to-morrow
day. It is late, &c.
25. The secretary
sent to me this morning to
know whether we should dine together; I went to
him, and there I learned that the question went
against the duke of Marlborough by a majority of a
hundred; so the ministry is mighty well satisfied,
and the duke will now be able to do no hurt. The
secretary and I, and lord Masham, &c., dined with
lieutenant-general Withers, who is just going to look
after the army in Flanders: the secretary and I left
them a little after seven, and I am come home, and
will now answer your letter, because this goes to-
morrow let me see-
see--The box at Chester; O,
burn that box, and hang that Sterne; I have desired
one to inquire for it who went toward Ireland last
Monday, but I am in utter despair of it. No, I was
not splenetic; you see what plunges the court has
been at to set all right again. And that duchess is
not out yet, and may one day cause more mischief.
Somerset shows all about a letter from the queen,
desiring him to let his wife continue with her. Is
not that rare! I find Dingley smelled a rat; because
the Whigs are upish; but if ever I hear that word
again I'll uppish you. I am glad you got your rasp
safe and sound; does Stella like her apron? Your
critics about guarantees of succession are puppies;
that's an answer to the objection. The answerers
here made the same objection, but it is wholly wrong.
I am of your opinion, that lord Marlborough is used
too hardly I have often scratched out passages from
papers and pamphlets sent me before they were
printed, because I thought them too severe.
he is certainly a vile man, and has no sort of merit
beside the military. The Examiners are good for
little; I would fain have hindered the severity of
the two or three last, but could not. I will either
bring your papers over or leave them with Tooke,
for whose honesty I will engage. And I think it is
best not to venture them with me at sea. Stella is
a prophet, by foretelling so very positively that all
would be well. Duke of Ormond speak against
peace? No, simpleton, he is one of the stanchest we
have for the ministry.
ministry. Neither trouble yourself
about the printer: he appeared the first day of term,
and is to appear when summoned again; but no-
thing else will come of it. Lord chief-justice is
cooled since this new settlement. No; I will not
But
split my journals in half; I will write but once a
fortnight: but you may do as you will; which is,
read only half at once, and t'other half next week.
So now your letter is answered. (Pox on these
blots!) What must I
blots!) What must I say more? I will set out in
March, if there be a fit of fine weather; unless the
ministry desire me to stay till the end of the session,
which may be a month longer: but I believe they
will not; for I suppose the peace will be made, and
they will have no further service for me. I must
make my canal fine this summer-as fine as I can.
I am afraid I shall see great neglects among my
quicksets. I hope the cherry-trees on the river-
walk are fine things now. But no more of this.
26. I forgot to finish this letter this morning, and
am come home so late I must give it to the bellman;
but I would have it go to-night, lest you should
think there is anything in the story of my being ar-
rested in an action of twenty-thousand pounds by
lord Marlborough, which I hear is in Dyer's letter,
and consequently, I suppose, gone to Ireland. Fare-
well, dearest MD, &c. &c.
LETTER THE FORTIETH.
London, Jan. 26, 1711-12.
I HAVE no gilt paper left of this size, so you must be
content with plain. Our society dined together to-
day, for it was put off, as I told you, upon lord
Marlborough's business on Thursday. The duke of
Ormond dined with us to-day, the first time; we
were thirteen at table; and lord Lansdown came in
after dinner, so that we wanted but three. The
secretary proposed the duke of Beaufort, who de-
sires to be one of our society; but I stopped it,
because the duke of Ormond doubts a little about it,
and he was gone before it was proposed. I left
them at seven, and sat this evening with poor Mrs.
Wesley, who has been mightily ill to-day with a
fainting fit; she has often convulsions too; she
takes a mixture with assafoetida, which I have now
in my nose; and everything smells of it. I never
smelt it before; 'tis abominable. We have eight
packets, they say, due from Ireland.
27. I could not see prince Eugene at court to-day,
the crowd was so great. The Whigs contrive to
have a crowd always about him, and employ the
rabble to give the word when he sets out from any
place. When the duchess of Hamilton came from
the queen after church, she whispered me that she
was going to pay me a visit: I went to lady Ogle-
thorp's, the place appointed; for ladies always visit
me in third places, and she kept me till near four:
she talks too much, is a plaguy detractor, and I be-
lieve I shall not much like her. I was engaged to
dine with lord Masham; they stayed as long as they
could, yet had almost dined, and were going in anger
to pull down the brass peg for my hat, but lady
Masham saved it. At eight I went again to lord
Masham's; lord-treasurer is generally there at
Lord-treasurer
night: we sat up till almost two.
has engaged me to contrive some way to keep the
archbishop of York from being seduced by lord Not-
tingham. I will do what I can in it to-morrow. 'Tis
very late, so I must go sleep.
28. Poor Mrs. Manley, the author, is very ill of a
dropsy and sore leg; the printer tells me he is afraid
she cannot live long. I am heartily sorry for her;
she has very generous principles for one of her sort,
and a great deal of good sense and invention: she is
about forty, very homely, and very fat. Mrs. Van
made me dine with her to-day. I was this morning
with the duke of Ormond, and the prolocutor, about
what lord-treasurer spoke to me yesterday: I know
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
237
[
though the Scotch lords went out, and would vote
neither way, in discontent about duke Hamilton's
patent, if
patent, if you know anything of it. A poem is come
out to-day, inscribed to me, by way of a flirt; for it
is a whiggish poem, and good for nothing. They
plagued me with it in the court of requests. I dined
with lord-treasurer at five alone, only with one.
Dutchman. Prior is now a commissioner of the
customs. I told you so before, I suppose. When
not what will be the issue. There is but a slender
majority in the house of lords; and we want more.
We are sadly mortified at the news of the French
taking the town in Brazil from the Portuguese. The
sixth edition of three thousand of "The Conduct of
the Allies" is sold, and the printer talks of a seventh:
eleven thousand of them have been sold, which is a
prodigious run. The little twopenny "Letter of
Advice to the October Club" does not sell; I know
not the reason; for it is finely written I assure you; I came home to-night I found a letter from Dr.
and, like a true author, I grow fond of it because it Sacheverel, thanking me for recommending his
does not sell: you know that is usual to writers to brother to lord-treasurer and Mr. Secretary for a
condemn the judgment of the world. If I had hint-place. Lord-treasurer sent to him about it.
So
ed it to be mine everybody would have bought it; good a solicitor was I, although I once hardly thought
but it is a great secret.
I should be a solicitor for Sacheverel.
29. I borrowed one or two idle books of "Contes
des Fées" (Tales of the Fairies), and have been read-
ing them these two days, although I have much busi-
ness upon my hands. I loitered till one at home;
then went to Mr. Lewis at his office; and the vice-
chamberlain told me that lady Ryalton had yesterday
resigned her employment of lady of the bedchamber,
and that lady Jane Hyde, lord Rochester's daughter,
a mighty pretty girl, is to succeed. He said, too,
that lady Sunderland would resign in a day or two.
I dined with Lewis, and then went to see Mrs.
Wesley, who is better to-day. But you must know
that Mr. Lewis gave me two letters, one from the
bishop of Cloyne, with an enclosed from lord Inche-
quin to lord-treasurer, which he desires would
deliver and recommend. I am told that lord was
much in with lord Wharton, and I remember he was
to have been one of the lords-justices by his recom-
mendation; yet the bishop recommends him as a
great friend to the church, &c. I'll do what I think
proper. T'other letter was from little saucy MD,
No. 26. O Lord, never saw the like, under a cover
too, and by way of journal; we shall never have
done. Sirrahs; how durst you write so soon,
sirrahs? I won't answer it yet.
30. I was this morning with the secretary, who
was sick and out of humour; he would needs drink
champagne some days ago, on purpose to spite me,
because I advised him against it, and now he pays
for it; Stella used to do such tricks formerly; he
put me in mind of her. Lady Sunderland has re-
signed her place too. It is lady Catherine Hyde
that succeeds lady Ryalton, and not lady Jane. Lady
Catherine is the late earl of Rochester's daughter.
I dined with the secretary, then visited his lady;
and sat this evening with lady Masham: the secre-
tary came to us, but lord-treasurer did not: he
dined with the master of the rolls, and stayed late
with him. Our society does not meet till to-morrow
se'nnight, because we think the parliament will be
very busy to-morrow upon the state of the war; and
the secretary, who is to treat as president, must be
in the house. I fancy my talking of persons and
things here must be very tedious to you, because
you know nothing of them, and I talk as if you did.
You know Kevin's-street, and Werburgh-street, and
(what do you call the street where Mrs. Walls lives?)
and Ingoldsby, and Higgins, and lord Santry; but
what care you for lady Catherine Hyde? Why do
you say nothing of your health, sirrah? I hope it is
well.
31. Trimnel, bishop of Norwich, who was with
this lord Sunderland at Moor-park in their travels,
preached yesterday before the house of lords; and
to-day the question was put to thank him, and print
his sermon; but passed against him, for it was a
terrible Whig sermon. The bill to repeal the act
for naturalising Protestant foreigners passed the
house of lords to-day by a majority of twenty,
February 1. Has not your dean of St. Patrick re-
ceived my letter? you say nothing of it, although I
writ above a month ago. My printer has got the
gout, and I was forced to go to him to-day, and there
I dined. It was a most delicious day: why don't
you observe whether the same days be fine with
you? To-night, at six, Dr. Atterbury, and Prior, and
I, and Dr. Freind, met at Dr. Robert Freind's house at
Westminster, who is master of the school: there we
sat till one, and were good enough company. I here
take leave to tell politic Dingley that the passage in
the "Conduct of the Allies" is so far from being
blamable, that the secretary designs to insist upon
it in the house of commons, when the treaty of
Barrier is debated there, as it now shortly will, for
they have ordered it to be laid before them. The
pamphlet of " Advice to the October Club" begins
now to sell; but I believe its fame will hardly
reach Ireland: 'tis finely written, I assure you. I
long to answer your letter, but won't yet; you know
'tis late, &c.
2. This ends Christmas, and what care I? I have
neither seen, nor felt, nor heard any Christmas this
year. I passed a lazy dull day. I was this morning
with lord-treasurer, to get some papers from him,
which he will remember as much as a cat. although
it be his own business. It threatened rain, but did
not much; and Prior and I walked an hour in the
Park, which quite put me out of my measures. I
dined with a friend hard by; and in the evening
sat with lord Masham till twelve. Lord-treasurer
did not come; this is an idle dining day usually
with him. We want to hear from Holland how our
peace goes on, for we are afraid of those scoundrels
the Dutch, lest they should play us tricks. Lord
Marr, a Scotch earl, was with us at lord Masham's:
I was arguing with him about the stubbornness and
folly of his countrymen; they are so angry about the
affair of duke Hamilton, whom the queen has made
a duke of England, and the house of lords will not
admit him. He swears he would vote for us, but
dare not, because all Scotland would detest him if
he did he should never be chosen again, nor be
able to live there.
3. I was at court to-day to look for a dinner, but
did not like any that were offered me; and I dined
with lord Mountjoy. The queen has the gout in
her knee, and was not at chapel. I hear we have a
Dutch mail, but I know not what news, although I
was with the secretary this morning. He showed
me a letter from the Hanover envoy, Mr. Bothmar,
complaining that the Barrier treaty is laid before the
house of commons; and desiring that no infringe-
ment may be made in the guarantee of the succes-
sion; but the secretary has written him a peppering
answer. I fancy you understand all this, and are
able states girls, since you have read the "Conduct
of the Allies." We are all preparing against the
birthday; I think it is Wednesday next. If the
238
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
Prince
queen's gout increases it will spoil sport.
Eugene has two fine suits made against it; and the
queen is to give him a sword worth four thousand
pounds, the diamonds set transparent.
4. I was this morning soliciting at the house of
commons' door for Mr. Vesey, a son of the arch-
bishop of Tuam, who has petitioned for a bill to re-
lieve him in some difficulty about his estate; I
secured him above fifty members. I dined with
lady Masham. We have no packet from Holland,
as I was told yesterday: and this wind will hinder
many people from appearing at the birthday who
expected clothes from Holland. I appointed to
meet a gentleman at the secretary's to-night, and
they both failed. The house of commons have this
day made many severe votes about our being abused
by our allies. Those who spoke drew all their ar-
guments from my book, and their votes confirm all
I writ; the court had a majority of a hundred and
fifty all agree that it was my book that spirited
them to these resolutions; I long to see them in
print. My head has not been as well as I could wish
it for some days past, but I have not had any giddy
fit, and I hope it will go over.
:
5. The secretary turned me out of his room this
morning, and showed me fifty guineas rolled up,
which he was going to give some French spy. I
dined with four Irishmen at a tavern to-day; I
thought I had resolved against it before, but I broke
it. I played at cards this evening at lady Masham's,
but I only played for her while she was waiting;
and I won her a pool, and supped there. Lord-
treasurer was with us, but went away before twelve.
The ladies and lords have all their clothes ready
against to-morrow: I saw several mighty fine, and
I hope there will be a great appearance, in spite of
that spiteful French fashion of the whiggish ladies
not to come, which they have all resolved to a woman;
and I hope it will more spirit the queen against them
for ever.
6. I went to dine at lord Masham's at three, and
met all the company just coming out of court; a
mighty crowd: they stayed long for their coaches:
I had an opportunity of seeing several lords and
ladies of my acquaintance in their fineries. Lady
Ashburnham looked the best in my eyes. They
say the court was never fuller nor finer. Lord-trea-
surer, his lady, and two daughters, and Mrs. Hill,
dined with lord and lady Masham; the five ladies
were monstrous fine. The queen gave prince Eugene
the diamond sword to-day; but nobody was by when
she gave it except my lord-chamberlain. There was
an entertainment of opera-songs at night, and the
queen was at all the entertainment, and is very well
after it. I saw lady Wharton, as ugly as the devil,
coming out in the crowd all in an undress; she has
been with the Marlborough daughters and lady
Bridgewater in St. James's, looking out of the
window all undressed to see the sight. I do not
hear that one Whig lady was there, except those of
the bedchamber. Nothing has made so great a
noise as one Kelson's chariot, that cost nine hun-
dred and thirty pounds, the finest was ever seen.
The rabble huzzaed him as much as they did prince
Eugene. This is birthday chat.
7. Our society met to-day; the duke of Ormond
was not with us; we have lessened our dinners,
which were grown so extravagant that lord-treasurer
I left them at
and everybody else cried shame.
seven, visited for an hour, and then came home,
like a good boy. The queen is much better after
yesterday's exercise: her friends wish she would
use a little more. I opposed lord Jersey's election
into our society, and he is refused: I likewise op-
posed the duke of Beaufort; but I believe he will
be chosen in spite of me: I don't much care; I
shall not be with them above two months; for I
resolve to set out for Ireland the beginning of
April next (before I treat them again), and see my
willows.
8. I dined to-day in the city: this morning a
scoundrel dog, one of the queen's music, a German,
whom I had never seen, got access to me in my
chamber by Patrick's folly, and gravely desired me
to get an employment in the customs for a friend of
his, who would be very grateful; and likewise to
forward a project of his own for raising ten thousand
I used him civiler
pounds a-year upon operas.
than he deserved, but it vexed me to the pluck. He
was told I had a mighty interest with lord-treasurer,
and one word of mine, &c.-Well, I got home early
on purpose to answer MD's letter, No. 26, for this
goes to-morrow.-Well, I never saw such a letter in
my life; so saucy, so journalish, so sanguine, so
pretending, so everything. I satisfied all your fears
in my last; all is gone well, as you say; yet you
are an impudent slut to be so positive; you will
swagger so upon your sagacity, that we shall never
have done. Pray don't mislay your reply; I
would certainly print it if I had it here: how long
was the answer
is it? I suppose half a sheet:
written in Ireland? Yes, yes, you shall have a
letter when you come from Baligall. I need not
tell you again who's out and who's in: we can
never get out the duchess of Somerset.-So, they
say Presto writ the Conduct [of the Allies], &c.
Do they like it? I don't care whether they do or
no; but the resolutions printed t'other day in the
votes are almost quotations from it, and would never
have passed if that book had not been written. I
will not meddle with the Spectator, let him fair-sex
it to the world's end. My disorder is over, but
blood was not from the piles.-Well, madam Dingley,
the frost; why, we had a great frost, but I forget
how long ago; it lasted above a week or ten days :
I believe about six weeks ago; but it did not break
so soon with us I think as December 29; yet I think
it was about that time on second thoughts. MD can
have no letter from Presto, says you; and yet four
days before you own you had my 37th, unreasonable
sluts! The bishop of Gloucester is not dead, and
I am as likely to succeed the duke of Marlborough
as him if he were: there's enough for that now.
is not unlikely that the duke of Shrewsbury will be
your governor; at least I believe the duke of Ormond
will not return.-Well, Stella again: why, really
three editions of the Conduct, &c., is very much for
Ireland;
it is a sign you have some honest among
you. Well; I will do Mr. Manley all the service Ï
can; but he will ruin himself. What business had
he to engage at all about the city? can't he wish his
cause well, and be quiet, when he finds that stirring
will do it no good, and himself a great deal of hurt;
I cannot imagine who should open my letter: it
must be done at your side.-If I hear of any thoughts
of turning out Mr. Manley, I will endeavour to pre-
vent it. I have already had all the gentlemen of Ire-
land here upon my back often for defending him. So
now I have answered your saucy letter. My humble
service to Goody Stoyte and Catherine; I will come
soon for my dinner.
It
9. Morning. My cold goes off at last; but I
think I have got a small new one. I have no news
since last. They say we hear by the way of Calais
that peace is very near concluding. I hope it may
be true. I'll go and seal up my letter, and give it
myself to-night into the post-office; and so I bid
my dearest MD farewell till to-night. I heartily
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
239
wish myself with them, as hope saved. My willows,
and quicksets, and trees, will be finely improved, I
hope, this year. It has been fine hard frosty weather
yesterday and to-day. Farewell, &c. &c. &c.
LETTER THE FORTY-FIRST.
London, Feb. 9, 1711-12.
WHEN my letter is gone, and I have none of yours
to answer, my conscience is so clear, and my shoul-
ders so light, and I go on with such courage to prate
upon nothing to dear charming MD, you would
wonder. I dined to-day with sir Matthew Dudley,
who is newly turned out of commission of the cus-
toms. He affects a good heart, and talks in the ex-
tremity of Whiggery, which was always his prin-
ciple, though he was gentle a little while he kept in
employment. We can get no packets from Holland.
I have not been with any of the ministry these two
or three days. I keep out of their way on purpose,
for a certain reason, for some time, though I must
dine with the secretary to-morrow, the choosing of
the company being left to me. I have engaged lord
Anglesey and lord Carteret, and have promised to
get three more; but I have a mind that none else
should be admitted. However, if I like anybody at
court to-morrow, I may perhaps invite them. I
have got another cold, but not very bad.
10. I saw prince Eugene at court to-day very
plain. He is plaguy yellow, and literally ugly be-
sides. The court was very full, and people had
their birthday clothes. I was to have invited five;
but I only invited two, lord Anglesey and lord
Carteret. Pshaw! I told you this but yesterday.
We have no packets from Holland yet. Here are a
parcel of drunken Whiggish lords, like your lord
Santry, who come into chocolate-houses, and rail
aloud at the Tories, and have challenges sent them,
and the next morning come and beg pardon. Ge-
neral Ross was like to swinge the marquis of Win-
chester for this trick the other day; and we have
nothing else now to talk of till the parliament has
had another bout with "the state of the war,' as
they intend in a few days. They have ordered the
Barrier treaty to be laid before them; and it was
talked some time ago, as if there was a design to
impeach lord Townshend, who made it,
I have no
more politics now. Night, dear MD.
11. I dined with lord Anglesey to-day, who had
seven Irishmen to be my companions, of which two
only were coxcombs. One I did not know, and the
other was young Bligh, who is a puppy of figure
here, with a fine chariot. He asked me one day at
court, when I had just been talking with some lords
who stood near me, "Doctor, when shall we see
you in the county of Meath?" I whispered him
"to take care what he said, for the people would
think he was some barbarian." He never would
speak to me since till we met to-day. I went to
lady Masham's to-night, and sat with lord-treasurer
and the secretary there till past two o'clock; and
when I came home found some letters from Ireland,
which I read, but can say nothing of them till to-
morrow, it is so very
it is so very late; but I must always be,
late or early, MD's, &c.
b
12. One letter was from the bishop of Clogher
last night, and the other from Walls, about Mrs.
South's salary, and his own pension of eighteen
pounds for his tithes of the park. I will do nothing|
in either. The first I cannot serve in, and the other
is a trifle; only you may tell him I had his letter,
a Archdeacon Walls, rector of Castleknock.
b Widow of Mr. South, a commissioner of the revenue in
Ireland, and one of the rangers of the Phoenix-park.
|
and will speak to Ned Southwell about what he
desires me. You say nothing of your dean's re-
ceiving my letter.
a
find Clements, whom I recommended to lord
Anglesey last year, at Wall's desire, or rather the
bishop of Clogher's, is mightily in lord Anglesey's
favour. You may tell the bishop and Walls so. I
said to lord Anglesey that I was glad I had the good
luck to recommend him, &c.
I dined in the city with my printer, to consult
with him about some papers lord-treasurer gave me
last night, as he always does, too late. However, I
will do something with them. My third cold is a
little better; I never had anything like it before;
three colds successively; I hope I shall have the
fourth. Three messengers come from Holland to-
day, and they brought over the six packets that
were due. I know not the particulars yet; for
when I was with the secretary at noon they were
just opening. But one thing I find, the Dutch are
playing us tricks and tampering with the French;
they are dogs; I shall know more.
13. I dined to-day privately with my friend Lewis,
at his lodgings, to consult about some observations
on the Barrier Treaty. Our news from Holland is
not good. The French raise difficulties, and make
such offers to the allies as cannot be accepted; and
the Dutch are uneasy that we are likely to get any-
thing for ourselves; and the Whigs are glad at all
this. I came home early, and have been very busy
three or four hours. I had a letter from Dr. Pratt
to-day by a private hand, recommending the bearer
to me for something I shall not trouble myself about.
Wesley writ to recommend the same fellow to me.
His expression is, that, hearing I am acquainted
with my lord-treasurer, he desires I would do so
and so.
A matter of nothing. What puppies are
mankind! I hope I shall be wiser when I have
once done with courts. I think you have not
troubled me much with your recommendations. I
would do you all the service I could. Pray, have
you got your apron, Mrs. Ppt? I paid for it but
yesterday; that puts me in mind of it.
I writ an
inventory of what things I sent by Leigh in one of
my letters.
Did you compare it with what you
got?
I hear nothing of your cards now: do you
never play? Yes, at Baligacoll. Go to bed. Night,
dearest MD.
14. Our society dined to-day at Mr. Secretary's
house. I went there at four; but hearing the house
of commons would sit late upon the Barrier Treaty,
I went for an hour to Kensington to
to see lord
Masham's children. My young nephew, his son, of
six months old, has got a swelling in his neck. I
fear it is the evil. We did not go to dinner till eight
at night, and I left them at ten. The commons
have been very severe on the Barrier Treaty, as you
will find by their votes. A Whig member took out
the "Conduct of the Allies," and read the passage
about the succession with great resentment; but none
seconded him. The church party carried every vote
by a great majority. The archbishop of Dublin is
so railed at by all who come from Ireland, that I
can defend him no longer. Lord Anglesey assured
me that the story of applying Piso out of Tacitus to
lord-treasurer being wounded is true. I believe the
duke of Beaufort will be admitted to our society
next meeting. To-day I published the "Fable of
Midas," a poem, printed in a loose half-sheet of
paper. I know not how it will take, but it passed
wonderfully at our society to-night; and Mr. Secre-
a Secretary of state for Ireland.
Lord Masham was one of the sixteen brothers; which ac
counts for Swift's calling his son nephew.
240
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
I
tary read it before me the other night to lord-trea-
surer at lord Masham's, where they equally ap-
proved of it. Tell me how it passes with you.
think this paper is larger than ordinary; for here
is a six days' journal, and no nearer the bottom.
I fear these journals are very dull. Note my dullest
lines.
15. Mr. Lewis and I dined by invitation with a
Scotch acquaintance, after I had been very busy in
my chamber till two in the afternoon. My third
cold is now very troublesome on my breast, espe-
cially in the morning. This is a great revolution in
my health; colds never used to return so soon with
me or last so long. It is very surprising this news
to-day of the dauphin and dauphiness both dying
within six days. They say the old king is almost
heartbroke he has had prodigious mortifications in
his family. The dauphin has left two little sons of four
and two years old; the eldest is sick. There is a fool-
ish story got about the town, that lord Strafford, one
of our plenipotentiaries, is in the interest of France :
and it has been a good while said that lord privy-
seala and he do not agree very well; they are both
long practised in business, but neither of them of
much parts. Strafford has some life and spirit, but
is infinitely proud and wholly illiterate. Night,
MD.
16. I dined to-day in the city with my printer, to
finish something I am doing about the Barrier
Treaty; but it is not quite done. I went this even-
ing to lord Masham's, where lord-treasurer sat with
us till past twelve. The lords have voted an address
to the queen, to tell her they are not satisfied with
the king of France's offers. The Whigs brought it
in of a sudden; and the court could not prevent it,
and therefore did not oppose it. The house of lords
is too strong in Whigs, notwithstanding the new
creations; for they are very diligent, and the Tories
as lazy the side that is down has always most in-
dustry. The Whigs intended to have made a vote
that would reflect on lord-treasurer, but their pro-
ject was not ripe. I hit my face such a rap by call-
ing the coach to stop to-night, that it is plaguy sore,
the bone beneath the eye. Night, dearest MD).
17. The court was mighty full to-day, and has
been these many Sundays; but the queen was not at
chapel. She has got a little fit of the gout in her
foot. The good of going to court is, that one sees all
one's acquaintance, whom otherwise I should hardly
meet twice a-year. Prince Eugene dines with the
secretary to-day, with about seven or eight general
officers or foreign ministers. They will be all drunk
I am sure. I never was in company with this
prince. I have proposed to some lords that we
should have a sober meal with him, but I cannot
compass it.
It is come over in the Dutch new prints
that I was arrested on an action of 20,0007. by the
duke of Marlborough. I did not like my court in-
vitations to-day; so sir Andrew Fountaine and I
went and dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh. I came
home at six, and have been very busy till this minute,
and it is past twelve, so I got into bed to write to
MD. We reckon the dauphin's death will set for-
ward the peace a good deal. Pray is Dr. Griffith
reconciled to me yet? Have I done enough to soften
him?
18. Lewis had Guiscard's picture; he bought it
and offered it to lord treasurer, who promised to
send for it, but never did; so I made Lewis give it
me,
and I have it in my room; and now lord-
treasurer says he will take it from me. Is that fair?
" Dr. John Robinson, bishop of Bristol.
It was published under the title of "Remarks on the Bar-
rier Treaty."
He designs to have it in length in the clothes he
wore when he did the action; and a penknife in his
hand; and Kneller is to copy it from this that I have.
I intended to dine with lord-treasurer to day, but he
has put me off till-morrow; so I dined with Lord
Dupplin. You know lord Dupplin very well; he is
a brother of the society. Well, but I have received
a letter from the bishop of Clogher, to solicit an
affair for him with lord-treasurer and with the par..
liament, which I will do as soon as fly. I am not
near so keen about other people's affairs as Ppt used
to reproach me about. It was a judgment on me.
Hearkee, idle dearees both, methinks I begin to
want a letter from MD: faith, and so I do. I
doubt you have been in pain about the report of my
being arrested. The pamphleteers have let me alone
this month, which is a great wonder: only the "Third
Part of the Answer to the Conduct," which is lately
come out. (Did I tell you of it already?) The house
of commons goes on in mauling the late ministry
and their proceedings.
19. I dined with lord-treasurer to-day, and sat
with him till ten in spite of my teeth, though my
printer waited for me to correct a sheet. I told him
of four lines I writ extempore with my pencil on a
bit of paper in his house while he lay wounded.
Some of the servants I suppose made waste paper of
them, and he never heard of them. They were in-
scribed to Mr. Harley's physician thus:-
On Britain Europe's safety lies;
Britain is lost if Harley dies.
Harley depends upon your skill:
Think what you save, or what you kill.
I proposed that some company should dine with
him on the eighth of March, which was the day he
was wounded; but he says he designs that the lords
of the cabinet who then sate with him should dine
that day with him: however, he has invited me to
dine. I am not yet rid of my cold; it plagues me in
the morning chiefly. Night, MD.
20. After waiting to catch the secretary coming
out from sir Thomas Hanmer for two hours in vain,
about some business, I went into the city to my
printer to correct some sheets of the Barrier Treaty
and Remarks, which must be finished to-morrow.
I have been terribly busy for some days past with
this and some other things; and I wanted some very
necessary papers which the secretary was to give me,
and the pamphlet must not be published without
them; but they are all busy too. Sir Thomas Han-
mer is chairman of the committee for drawing up a
representation of the state of the nation to the
queen, where all the wrong steps of the allies and
late ministry about the war will be mentioned.
The secretary, I suppose, was helping him about it
to-day; I believe it will be a pepperer. Night,
dear MD.
I
21. I have been six hours to-day morning writing
nineteen pages of a letter to lord-treasurer, about
forming a society or academy to correct and fix the
English language. (Is English a speech or a lan-
guage?) It will not be above five or six more.
will send it him to-morrow, and will print it if
he desires me. I dined, you know, with our society
to-day; Thursday is our day. We had a new mem-
ber admitted ; it was the duke of Beaufort.
were thirteen met; brother Ormond was not there, but
sent his excuse that prince Eugene dined with him.
I left them at seven, being engaged to go to sir Thomas
Hanmer, who desired I would see him at that hour.
His business was, that I would hoenlbp ihainm itaor
dsroanws ubpl tohne srocqporaensiepnotlastoiqobn‚ª
Thus deciphered: "help him to draw up the representa
tion."
We
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
241
which I consented to do; but I do not know whether
I shall succeed, because it is a little out of my way:
however, I have taken my share. Night, MD.
22. I finished the rest of my letter to lord-treasurer
to-day, and sent it to him about one o'clock; and
then dined privately with my friend Mr. Lewis, to
talk over some affairs of moment. I have gotten the
13th volume of Rymer's Collection of the Records of
the Tower, for the university of Dublin. I have
two volumes now. I will write to the provost to
know how I shall send them to him; no, I wont, for
I will bring them myself among my own books. I
was with Hanmer this morning, and there was the
secretary and chancellor of the exchequer very busy
with him, laying their heads together about the re-
presentation. I went to lord Masham's to-night,
and lady Masham made me read her a pretty two-
penny pamphlet, called "the St. Alban's Ghost." I
thought I had writ it myself; so did they; but I did
Lord-treasurer came down to us from the
queen, and we staid till two o'clock. That is the
best night place I have. The usual company are
lord and lady Masham, lord-treasurer, Dr. Arbuth-
not and I; sometimes the secretary and sometimes
Mrs. Hill of the bedchamber, lady Masham's sister.
1 assure you it is very late now; but this goes to-
morrow and I must have time to converse with our
little MD. Night, dear MD.
not.
:
23. I have no news to tell you this last day, nor
do I know where I shall dine. I hear the secretary
is a little out of order. Perhaps I may dine there,
perhaps not. I sent Hanmer what he wanted from
me. I know not how he will approve of it. I was
to do more of the same sort. I am going out,
and must carry this in my pocket to give it at some
general post-house. I will talk further with you at
night. I suppose in my next I shall answer a letter
from MD that will be sent me. On Tuesday it will
be four weeks since I had your last, No. 26. This
day se'ennight I expect one, for that will be some-
thing more than a full month. Farewell, MD.
LETTER THE FORTY-SECOND.
London, Feb. 23, 1711-12.
AFTER having disposed my last letter in the post-
office, I am now to begin this with telling MD that
MD¯that
I dined with the secretary to-day, who is much out of
order with a cold, and feverish; yet he went to the
cabinet council to-night at six against my will. The
secretary is much the greatest commoner in England,
and turns the whole parliament, who can do nothing
without him; and if he lives and has his health, will,
I believe, be one day at the head of affairs. I have
told him sometimes that, if I were a dozen years
younger, I would cultivate his favour and trust my
fortune with his. But what care you for all this?
I am sorry, when I came first acquainted with this
ministry, that I did not send you their names and
characters, and then you would have relished what
I would have writ, especially if I had let you into the
particulars of affairs: but enough of this. Night,
dearest rogues.
24. I went early this morning to the secretary, who
is not yet well. Sir Thomas Hanmer and the chan-
cellor of the exchequer came while I was there, and
he would not let me stir; so I did not go to church,
but was busy with them till noon about the affair I
told you in my last. The other two went away; and
I dined with the secretary, and found my head very
much out of order, but no absolute fit; and I have
not been well all this day. It has shook me a little.
I sometimes sit up very late at lord Masham's, and
have writ much for several days past: but I will
VOL. I.
|
amend both; for I have now very little business, and
hope I shall have no more. I am resolved to be at
great rider this summer in Ireland. I was to see
Mrs. Westley this evening, who has been somewhat
better for this month past, and talks of returning to
the Bath in a few weeks. Our peace goes on but
slowly; the Dutch are playing tricks, and we do not
push it as strongly as we ought. The fault of our
court is delay, of which the queen has a great deal ;
and lord-treasurer is not without his share. But
pray let us know a little of your life and conversation.
Do you play at ombre, or visit the dean, and Goody
Walls and Stoytes and Manleys, as usual? I must
have a letter from you to fill the other side of this
sheet. Let me know what you do. Is my aunt
alive yet? O, pray, now I think of it, be so kind as
to step to my aunt, and take notice of my great-
grandfather's picture; you know he has a ring on
his finger, with a seal of an anchor and dolphin about
it; but I think there is besides, at the bottom of the
picturc, the same coat of arms quartered with another,
which I suppose was my great-grandmother's. If
this be so, it is a stronger argument than the seal.
And pray see whether you think that coat of arms
was drawn at the same time with the picture, or
whether it be of a later hand; and ask my aunt
what she knows about it. But perhaps there is no
such coat of arms on the picture, and I only dreamed
it. My reason is, because I would ask some herald
here whether I should choose that coat, or one in
Guillim's large folio of heraldry, where my uncle
Godwin is named with another coat-of-arms of three
stags. This is sad stuff to write; so night, MD.
25. I was this morning again with the secretary
and we were two hours busy; and then went toge-
ther to the Park, Hyde Park, I mean; and he
walked to cure his cold, and we were looking at two
Arabian horses sent some time ago to lord-treasurer.
The duke of Marlborough's coach overtook us, with
his grace and lord Godolphin in it; but they did not
see us, to our great satisfaction; for neither of us
desired that either of those two lords should see us
together. There was half a dozen ladies riding
like cavaliers to take the air. My head is better to-
day. I dined with the secretary; but we did no
business after dinner, and at six I walked into the
fields; the days are grown pure and long; then I
went to visit Percival and his family, whom I had
seen but once since they came to town. They are
going to Bath next month. Countess Doll of Meath
is such an owl, that, wherever I visit, people are
asking me whether I know such, an Irish lady, and
her figure and her foppery? I came home early, and
have been amusing myself with looking into one of
the volumes of Rymer's Records of the Tower, and
am mighty easy to think I have no urgent business
upon my hands. My third cold is not yet off; I
sometimes cough, and am not right with it in the
morning. Did I tell you that I believe it is lady
Masham's hot-rooms that give it me? I never knew
such a stove; and in my conscience, I believe both
my lord and she, my lord-treasurer, Mr. Secretary,
and myself, have all suffered by it. We have all
had colds together, but I walk home on foot. Night,
dear MD.
26. I was again busy with the secretary. We
read over some papers, and did a good deal of busi-
ness. I dined with him, and we were to do more
business after dinner; but after dinner is after
dinner-an old saying and a true, "much drink-
ing, little thinking." We had company with us,
and nothing could be done, and I am to go there
again to-morrow. I have now nothing to do
and the parliament, by the queen's recommendation,
R
;
242
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
is to take some method for preventing libels, &c.,
which will include pamphlets, I suppose. I do not
know what method they will take, but it comes out
in a day or two. To-day in the morning I visited
upward; first I saw the duke of Ormond below stairs,
and gave him joy of his being declared general in
Flanders; then I went up one pair of stairs, and sate
with the duchess; then I went up another pair of
stairs, and paid a visit to lady Betty; and desired
her woman to go up to the garret, that I might pass
half an hour with her, but she was young and hand-
some, and would not. The duke is our president
this week, and I have bespoke a small dinner on
purpose, for good example. Night, my dear little
rogues.
27. I was again with the secretary this morning;
but we only read over some papers with sir Thomas
Hanmer; then I called at lord-treasurer's; it was his
levee-day, but I went up to his bedchamber, and said
what I had to say. I came down and peeped in at
the chamber, where a hundred fools were waiting,
and two streets were full of coaches. I dined in the
city with my printer, and came back at six to
lord-treasurer, who had invited me to dinner, but
I refused him. I sate there an hour or two, and
then went to lord Masham's. They were all abroad :
so truly I came, and read whatever stuff was next
me. I can sit and be idle now, which I have
not been above a year past. However, I will stay
out the session to see if they have any further com-
mands for me, and that I suppose will end in April.
But I may go somewhat before, for I hope all will be
ended by then, and we shall have either a certain
peace or certain war. The ministry is contriving
new funds for money by lotteries, and we go on as
if the war were to continue, but I believe it will not.
It is pretty late now, young women; so I bid you
night, own dear, dear little rogues.
28. I have been packing up some books in a great
box I have bought, and must buy another for clothes
and luggage. This is a beginning toward a removal.
I have sent to Holland for a dozen shirts, and design
to buy another new gown and hat. I will come over
like a Zinkerman [probably gentleman], and lay out
nothing in clothes in Ireland this good while. I have
writ this night to the provost. Our society met to-
day as usual, and we were fourteen, beside the earl
of Arran, whom his brother, the duke of Ormond,
brought among us against all order.
We were
mightily shocked; but after some whispers, it ended
in choosing lord Arran one of our society, which I
opposed to his face, but it was carried by all the rest
against me.
29. This is leap-year, and this is leap-day. Prince
George was born on this day. People are mistaken;
and some here think it is St. David's day; but they
do not understand the virtue of leap-year. I have
nothing to do now, boys, and have been reading all
this day like Gumdragon; and yet I was dictating
some trifles this morning to a printer. I dined with
a friend hard by, and the weather was so discouraging
I could not walk. I came home early, and have read
two hundred pages of Arrian. Alexander the Great
is just dead; I do not think he was poisoned; be-
tween you and me, all those are but idle stories; it
is certain that neither Ptolemy nor Aristobulus
thought so, and they were both with him when he
died. It is a pity we have not their histories.
bill for limiting members of parliament to have but
so many places passed the house of Commons, and
will pass the house of lords, in spite of the ministry,
which you know is a great lessening of the queen's
power. Four of the new lords voted against the
court in this point. It is certainly a good bill in the
The
reign of an ill prince, but I think things are not
settled enough for it at present. And the court may
want a majority at a pinch. Night, dear little rogues.
Love Pdfr.
March 1. I went into the city to inquire after poor
Stratford, who has put himself a prisoner into the
Queen's Bench, for which his friends blame him very
much, because his creditors designed to be very easy
with him. He grasped at too many things together,
and that was his ruin. There is one circumstance
relative to lieutenant-general Meredith, that is very
melancholy: Meredith was turned out of all his em-
ployments last year, and had about 10,0007. left to
live on. Stratford, upon friendship, desired he might
have the management of it for Meredith, to put it
into the stocks and funds for the best advantage, and
now he has lost it all.-You have heard me often
talk of Stratford; we were class-fellows at school and
university. I dined with some merchants, his friends,
to-day, and they said they expected his breaking this
good while. I gave him notice of a treaty of peace
while it was a secret, of which he might have made
good use, but that helped to ruin him: for he gave
money, reckoning there would be actually a peace
for this time, and consequently stocks rise high.
Ford narrowly escaped losing 5007. by him, and so
did I too. Night, my two dearest lives MD.
2. Morning. I was wakened at three this morning,
my man and the people of the house telling me of a
great fire in the Haymarket. I slept again, and two
hours after my man came in again, and told me it
was my poor brother [brother of the society] sir
William Wyndham's house burnt, and that two
maids, leaping out of an upper room to avoid the
fire, both fell on their heads, one of them upon
the iron spikes before the door, and both lay dead in
the streets. It is supposed to have been some care-
lessness of one or both those maids. The duke of
Ormond was there helping to put out the fire,
Brother Wyndham gave 6,000%. but a few months.
ago for that house, as he told me, and it was very
richly furnished. I shall know more particulars at
night. He married lady Catherine Seymour, the
duke of Somerset's daughter; you know her, I be-
lieve. At night.-Wyndham's young child escaped
very narrowly; lady Catherine escaped barefoot;
they all went to Northumberland House.
Bridge's house, next door, is damaged much, and
was likely to be burnt. Wyndham has lost above
10,0007. by this accident-his lady above a thousand
pounds worth of clothes. It was a terrible accident.
He was not at court to-day. I dined with lord.
Masham. The queen was not at church. Night,
MD.
Mr.
3. Pray tell Walls that I spoke to the duke of
Ormond and Mr. Southwell about his friend's affair,
who, I find, needed not me for a solicitor, for they
both told me the thing would be done. I likewise
mentioned his own affair to Mr. Southwell, and I
hope that will be done too, for Southwell seems to
think it reasonable, and I will mind him of it again.
Tell him this nakedly. You need not know the
particulars. They are secrets; one of them is about
Mrs. South having a pension; the other about his
salary from the government for the tithes of the park,
that lie in his parish, to be put upon the establish-
I dined in the city with my printer, with
whom I had some small affair. I have no large work
I was with lord-treasurer this
on my hands now.
morning, and what care you for that? You dined
with the dean to-day. Monday is parson's holiday.
And you lost your money at cards and dice; the
giver's device. So I'll go to bed. Night, my two
dearest little rogues.
ment.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
243
4. I sat to-day with poor Mrs. Wesley, who made
me dine with her. She is much better than she was.
I heartily pray for her health, out of the entire love
I bear to her worthy husband. This day has passed
very insignificantly. But it is a great comfort to me
now that I can come home and read, and have no-
thing upon my hands to write. I was at lord
Masham's to-night, and stayed there till one. Lord-
treasurer was there; but I thought he looked melan-
choly, just as he did at the beginning of the session,
and he was not so merry as usual. In short, the
majority in the house of lords is a very weak one:
and he has much ado to keep it up; and he is not
able to make those removes he would, and oblige his
friends; and I doubt he does not take care enough
about it, or rather cannot do all himself, and will not
employ others: which is his great fault, as I have
often told you. It is late. Night, MD.
5. I wish you a merry Lent. I hate Lent; I hate
different diets, and furmity and butter, and herb
porridge; and sour devout faces of people who only
put on religion for seven weeks. I was at the
secretary's office this morning; and there a gentle-
man brought me two letters, dated last October;
one from the bishop of Clogher, the other from
Walls. The gentleman is called colonel Newburgh.
I think
you mentioned him to me some time ago;
he has business in the house of lords. I will do him
what service I can. The "Representation of the
House of Commons" is printed; I have not seen it
yet; it is plaguy severe, they say. I dined with
Dr. Arbuthnot, and had a true lenten dinner, not in
point of victuals, but spleen; for his wife and a child
or two were sick in the house, and that was full as
mortifying as fish. We have had mighty fine cold
frosty weather for some days past. I hope you take
the advantage of it, and walk now and then. You
never answer that part of my letters where I desire
you to walk. I must keep my breath to cool my
lenten porridge. Tell Jemmy Leigh that his boy
that robbed him now appears about the town: Pa-
trick has seen him once or twice. I knew nothing
of his being robbed till Patrick told me he had seen
the boy. I wish it had been Sterne that had been
robbed, to be revenged for the box that he lost, and
be poxed to him! Night, MD.
I
6. I hear Mr. Prior has suffered by Stratford's
breaking. I was yesterday to see Prior, who is not
well, and I thought he looked melancholy. He can
ill afford to lose money. I walked before dinner in
the Mall a good while with lord Arran and lord
Dupplin, two of my brothers, and then we went to
dinner, where the duke of Beaufort was our presi-
dent. We were but eleven to-day. We are now in
all nine lords and ten commoners. The duke of
Beaufort had the confidence to propose his brother-
in-law, the earl of Danby, to be a member: but I
opposed it so warmly that it was waved. Danby is
not above twenty, and we will have no more boys,
and we want but two to make up our number.
stayed till eight, and then we all went away soberly.
The duke of Ormond's treat last week cost 20l.,
though it was only four dishes and four without a
dessert; and I bespoke it in order to be cheap. Yet
I could not prevail to change the house. Lord-trea-
surer is in a rage with us for being so extravagant:
and the wine was not reckoned neither: for that is
always brought by him that is president. Lord
Orrery is to be president next week; and I will see
whether it cannot be cheaper; or else we will leave
the house. Lord Masham made me go home with
him to-night to eat boiled oysters. Take oysters,
wash them clean; that is, wash their shells clean;
then put your oysters into an earthen pot, with their
hollow sides down, then put this pot covered into a
great kettle with water, and so let them boil. Your
oysters are boiled in their own liquor, and not
mix water. Lord-treasurer was not with us; he
was very ill to-day with a swimming in the head, and
is gone home to be cupped, and sent to desire lady
Masham to excuse him to the queen. Night, dear
MD.
7. I was to-day at the house of Lords about a
friend's bill. Then I crossed the water at West-
minster stairs to Southwark, went through St. George's
fields to the Mint, which is the dominion of the
King's Bench prison, where Stratford lodges in a
blind alley, and writ to me to come to him; but he
was gone to the Change. I thought he had some-
thing to say to me about his own affairs. I found
him at his usual coffee-house, and went to his own
lodgings, and dined with him and his wife, and other
company. His business was only to desire I would
intercede with the ministry about his brother-in-law,
Ben Burton of Dublin, the banker, who is likely to
come into trouble, as we hear, about spreading false
Whiggish news. I hate Burton, and told Stratford
so; and I will advise the duke of Ormond to make
use of it, to keep the rogue in awe. Mrs. Stratford
tells me her husband's creditors have consented to
give him liberty to get up his debts abroad; and she
hopes he will
hopes he will pay them all. He was cheerfuller than
I have seen him this great while. I have walked
much to-day. Night, dearest rogues.
I
8. This day twelvemonth Mr. Harley was stabbed,
but he is ill, and takes physic to-day, I hear ('tis
now morning); and cannot have the cabinet council
with him, as he intended, nor me to say grace.
am going to see him. Pray read the "Representa-
tion it is the finest that ever was writ.—Some of
it is Pdfr's style; but not very much. This is the
day of the queen's accession to the crown, so it is a
great day. I am going to court, and will dine with
lord Masham; but I must go this moment to see the
secretary about some business; so I will seal
up this,
and put it in the post. Farewell, dearest hearts and
souls, MD, MD, MD.
LETTER THE FORTY-THIRD.
London, March 8, 1711-12.
I CARRIED MY 42nd letter in my pocket till evening,
my
and then put it in the general post. I went in the
morning to see lord-treasurer, who had taken phy-
sic, and was drinking his broth. I had been with
the secretary before, to recommend a friend, one Dr.
Freind, to be physician-general; and the secretary
promised to mention it to the queen. I can serve
everybody but myself. Then I went to court, and
carried lord-keeper and the secretary to dine with
lord Masham, when we drank the queen and lord-
treasurer with every health, because this was the
day of his stabbing. Then I went and played pools
at picquet with lady Masham and Mrs. Hill; won
ten shillings, gave a crown to the box, and came
home. I met at my lodgings a letter from Jo, with
a bit annexed from Ppt. What Jo asks is entirely
out of my way; and I take it for a foolish whim in
him. Besides, I know not who is to give a patent;
if the duke of Ormond, I would speak to him; but
good security is all; and to think that I would
speak to lord-treasurer for any such matter at ran-
dom is a jest. Did I tell you of a race of rakes,
called the Mohocks, that play the devil about this
town every night, slit people's noses, and bid them,
&c. Night, sirrahs, and love Pdfr. Night, MD.
9. I was at court to-day, and nobody invited me
to dinner, except one or two, whom I did not care
R 2
244
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
to dine with; so I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh.
Young Davenant was telling us at court how he was
set upon by the Mohocks," and how they ran his
chair through with a sword. It is not safe being in
the streets at night for them. The bishop of Salis-
bury's son is said to be of the gang. They are all
Whigs; and a great lady sent to me to speak to her
father and to lord-treasurer, to have a care of them,
and to be careful likewise of myself; for she heard
they had malicious intentions against the ministers
and their friends. I know not whether there be
anything in this, though others are of the same opi-
nion. The weather still continues very fine and
frosty. I walked in the park this evening, and came
home early to avoid the Mohocks. Lord-treasurer
is better. Night, my own two dearest MD.
10. I went this morning again to lord-treasurer,
who is quite recovered; and I stayed till he went out.
I dined with a friend in the city, about a little business
of printing; but not my own. You must buy a small
two-penny pamphlet, called "Law is a Bottomless
Pit; or, The History of John Bull." It is very
prettily written, and there will be a second part.
The commons are very slow in bringing in their
bill to limit the press, and the pamphleteers make
good use of their time; for there come out three or
four every day. Well, but is not it time, methinks,
to have a letter from MD? it is now six weeks since
I had your No. 26. I can assure you I expect one
before this goes; and I will make shorter days' jour-
nals than usual, 'cause I hope to fill up a good deal
of this side with my answer.
Our fine weather lasts
yet, but grows a little windy. We shall have rain
soon, I suppose. Go to cards, sirrahs, and I to
sleep. Night, MD.
11. Lord-treasurer has lent the long letter I writ
him to Prior; and I can't get Prior to return it. I
want to have it printed, and to make up this acade-
my for the improvement of our language. Faith, we
never shall improve it so much as FW has done;
shall we? No, faith, our richer Gengridge. I dined
privately with my friend Lewis, and then went to
see Ned Southwell, and talked with him about
Wall's business, and Mrs. South's. The latter will
The latter will
be done; but his own not. Southwell tells me, that
it must be laid before lord-treasurer, and the nature
of it explained, and a great deal of clutter, which is
not worth the while; and, may be, lord-treasurer
won't do it at last; and it is, as Walls says himself,
not above forty shillings a year difference. You
must tell Walls this, unless he would have the busi-
ness a secret from you; in that case only say I did
all I could with Ned Southwell, and it cannot be
done; for it must be laid before lord-treasurer, &c.,
who will not do it; and besides, it is not worth
troubling his lordship. So night, my two dear little
MD.
12. Here is the devil and all to do with these Mo-
hocks. Grub-street papers about them fly like
lightning, and a list printed of near eighty put into
several prisons, and all a lie; and I begin almost to
think there is no truth, or very little in the whole
story. He that abused Davenant was a drunken
gentleman; none of that gang. My man tells me
that one of the lodgers heard in a coffeehouse, pub-
licly, that one design of the Mohocks was upon me,
if they could catch me; and though I believe no-
thing of it, I forbear walking late, and they have
put me to the charge of some shillings already. I
dined to-day with lord-treasurer and two gentle-
• A set of debauchees, who, under the varions names of
nickers, scowrers, &c., insulted passengers, attacked the
watchmen, and committed great absurdities in night brawls.
The "Spectator" goos fully into the description of their mad
tricks.
men of the Highlands of Scotland, yet very polite
men. I sat there till nine, and then went to lord
Masham's, where lord-treasurer followed me, and
we sat till twelve; and I came home in a chair for
fear of the Mohocks, and I have given him warning
of it too. Little Harrison, whom I sent to Holland,
is now actually made queen's secretary at the Hague.
It will be in the Gazette to-morrow. It is worth
twelve hundred pounds a-year.
Here is a young fellow has writ some "Sea
Eclogues," Poems of Mermen, resembling pastorals
and shepherds, and they are very pretty, and the
thought is new. Mermen are he-mermaids; Tri-
tons, natives of the sea. Do you understand me?
I think to recommend him to our society to-mor-
row. His name is Diaper. P on him! I must do
something for him, and get him out of the way. I
hate to have any new wits rise, but when they do
rise I would encourage them; but they tread on our
heels and thrust us off the stage. Night, dearest
MD.
13. You would laugh to see our printer constantly
attending our society after dinner, and bringing us
whatever new thing he has printed, which he seldom
fails to do; yet he had nothing to-day. Lord Lans-
down, one of our society, was offended at a passage
in this day's Examiner,' which he thinks reflects
on him, as I believe it does, though in a mighty
civil way. It is only that his underlings cheat; but
that he is a very fine gentleman every way, &c.
Lord Orrery was president to-day, but both our
dukes were absent. Brother Wyndham recom-
mended Diaper to the society. I believe we shall
make a contribution among ourselves, which I don't
like. Lord-treasurer has yet done nothing for us,
but we shall try him soon. The company parted
early, but Freind, and Prior, and I, sat a while
longer and reformed the state, and found fault with
the ministry. Prior hates his commission of the
customs, because it spoils his wit. He says he
dreams of nothing but cockets, and dockets, and
drawbacks, and other jargon, words of the custom-
house. Our good weather went away yesterday,
and the nights are now dark, and I came home be-
fore ten. Night, my dearest sirrahs.
14. I have been plagued this morning with soli-
citors, and with nobody more than my brother Dr.
Freind, who must needs have me to get old Dr.
Lawrence, the physician- general, turned out and
himself in. He has argued with me so long upon
the reasonableness of it, and I am fully convinced
it is very unreasonable; and so I would tell the
secretary, if I had not already made him speak to
the queen.-Besides, I know not but my friend Dr.
Arbuthnot would be content to have it himself, and
I love him ten times better than Freind. What's
all this to you? but I must talk of things as they
happen in the day, whether you know anything of
them or not. I dined in the city, and, coming back,
one parson Richardson,a of Ireland, overtook me.
He was here last summer upon a project of convert-
ing the Irish and printing bibles, &c., in that lan-
guage, and is now returned to pursue it on.
tells me Dr. Coghill came last night to town. I will
He gave me
send to see how he does to-morrow.
a letter from Walls about his old business. Night,
dearest MD.
He
15. I had intended to be early with the secretary
this morning, when my man admitted up stairs one
Mr. Newcomb, an officer, who brought me a letter
from the bishop of Clogher, with four lines added by
Mr. Ashe, all about that Newcomb. I think, in-
" John Richardsou, rector of Annult, alias Belturbet, and
chaplain to the duke of Ormond.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
248
deed, his case is hard, but God knows whether I shall
be able to do him any service. People will not un-
derstand: I am a very good second, but I care not
to begin a recommendation, unless it be for an inti-
mate friend. However, I will do what I can. I
missed the secretary, and then walked to Chelsea to
dine with the dean of Christchurch (Dr. Atterbury),
who was engaged to lord Orrery, with some other
Christchurch-men. He made me go with him whe-
ther I would or not, for they have this long time ad-
mitted me a Christchurch-man. Lord Orrery gene-
rally every winter gives his old acquaintance of that
college a dinner. There were nine clergymen at
table and four laymen. The dean and I soon left
them, and after a visit or two I went to lord Ma-
sham's and lord-treasurer Arbuthnot and I sat till
twelve. And now I am come home and got to bed.
I came afoot, but had my man with me. Lord-
treasurer advised me not to go in a chair, because
the Mohocks insult chairs more than they do those
on foot. They think there is some mischievous de-
sign in those villains. Several of them, lord-trea-
surer told me, are actually taken up. I heard, at
dinner, that one of them was killed last night. We
shall know more in a little time. I do not like them
as to men.
16. This morning, at the secretary's, I met gene-
ral Ross, and recommended Newcomb's case to him,
who promises to join with me in working up the
duke of Ormond to do something for him. Lord
Winchelsea told me to-day at court that two of the
Mohocks caught a maid of old lady Winchelsea's at
the door of their house in the park, with a candle,
and had just lighted out somebody. They cut all
her face and beat her, without any provocation. I
hear my friend Lewis has got a Mohock in one of
the messenger's hands. The queen was at church
to-day, but was carried in an open chair. She has
got an ugly cough, Arbuthnot, her physician, says.
I dined with Crowe, late governor of Barbados, an
acquaintance of Stearn's. After dinner I asked him
whether he had heard of Stearn? "Here he is,"
said he, "at the door in a coach," and in came.
Stearn. He has been here this week. He is buy-
ing a captainship in his cousin Stearn's regiment.
He told me he left Jemmy Leigh playing at cards
with you. He is to give 800 guineas for his com-
mission. I suppose you know all this better than I.
How shall I have room to answer your letter when
I get it, I have gone so far already? Night, dearest
rogues.
17. Dr. Sacheverel came this morning to give me
thanks for getting his brother an employment. It
was but six or seven weeks since I spoke to lord-
treasurer for him. Sacheverel brought Trap along
with him. We dined together at my printer's, and
I sate with them till seven. I little thought, and I
believe so did he, that ever I should be his solicitor
to the present ministry, when I left Ireland. This
is the seventh I have now provided for since I came,
and can do nothing for myself. I don't care; I shall
have ministries and other people obliged to me.
Trap is a coxcomb, and the other is not very deep;
and their judgment in things of wit and sense is
miraculous. The second part of "Law is a Bottom-
less P'it" is just now printed, and better, I think, than
the first. Night, my two dear saucy little rogues.
could not get a coach, and was alone, and was afraid
enough of the Mohocks. I will do so no more,
though I got home safe. Prior and I were talking
discontentedly of some managements, that no more
people are turned out, which gets lord-treasurer
many enemies: but whether the fault be in him, or
the queen, I know not; I doubt, in both. Young
women, it is now seven weeks since I received your
last; but I expect one next packet, to fill the rest of
this paper; but if it don't come I'll do without it :
so I wish you good luck at ombre with the dean.
Night, ****
19. Newcomb came to me this morning, and I
went to the duke of Ormond to speak for him; but
the duke was just going out to take the oaths for
general. The duke of Shrewsbury is to be lord-
lieutenant of Ireland. I walked with Domville and
Ford to Kensington, where we dined, and it cost me
above a crown. I don't like it, as my man said.
It was very windy walking. I saw there lord Ma-
sham's children. The youngest, my nephew, I fear,
has got the king's evil; the other two are daughters
of three and four years old. The gardens there are
mighty fine. I passed the evening at lord Masham's
with lord-treasurer and Arbuthnot, as usual, and we
stayed till past one; but I had my man to come with
me, and at home I found three letters; one from one
Fetherston, a parson, with a postscript of Tisdall's to
recommend him. And Fetherston, whom I never
saw, has been so kind as to give me a letter of attor-
ney to recover a debt for him: another from lord
Abercorn, to get him the dukedom of Châtelleraut
from the king of France; in which I will do what
I can, for his pretensions are very just: the third, I
warrant you, from our MD. It is a great stir this,
of getting a dukedom from the king of France: but
it is only to speak to the secretary, and get the duke
of Ormond to engage in it, and mention the case to
lord-treasurer, &c., and this I shall do. Night, dear-
est little MD.
20. I was with the duke of Ormond this morning,
about lord Abercorn, Dr. Freind, and Newcomb.
Some will do and some will not do that's wise,
mistresses. The duke of Shrewsbury is certainly to
be your governor. I will go in a day or two, and
give the duchess joy, and recommend the archbishop
of Dublin to her. I writ to the archbishop some
months ago that it would be so; and told him I would
speak a good word for him to the duchess; and he
says he has a great respect for her, &c.
I made our
society change their house, and we met together at
the Star and Garter in the Pall-mall. Lord Arran
was president. The other dog was so extravagant
in his bills, that for four dishes and four, first and
second course, without wine or dessert, he charged
twenty-one pounds six shillings and eightpence to
the duke of Ormond. We design, when all have
been presidents this turn, to turn it into a reckoning
of so much a head; but we shall break up when the
session ends. Night, dearest.
21. Morning. Now I will answer MD's letter,
No. 27; you, that are adding to your numbers and
grumbling, had made it 26 and then altered it to 27.
I believe it is above a month since your last; yes, it
is above seven weeks since I had your last; but I
ought to consider that this was twelve days right
[writing], so that makes it pretty even. O, the
18. There is a proclamation out against the Mo- sorry jades, with their excuses of a fortnight at Bali-
hocks. One of those that are taken is a baronet. gacol, seeing their friends and landlord running away.
dined with poor Mrs. Wesley, who is returning to
O what a trouble and a bustle!-No-if you will
the Bath. Mrs. Percival's youngest daughter has
have it-I am not dean of Wells, nor know anything
got the small-pox, but will do well. I walked this of being so; nor is there anything in the story; and
evening in the park, and met Prior, who made me that's enough. It was not Roper sent that news:
go home with him, where I stayed till past twelve, and | Roper is my humble slave.-Yes, I heard of your
I
246
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
her over.
The
resolves, and that Burton was embroiled. Stratford
spoke to me in his behalf; but I said I hated the
rascal. Poor Catherine gone to Wales? But she
will come back again, I hope. I would see her in
my journey, if she were near the road, and bring
Joe is a fool; that sort of business is not
at all in my way, pray put him off it. People laugh
when I mention it. Beg your pardon, mistress: I
am glad you like the apron: no harm, I hope. And
so MD wonders she has not a letter all the day; she
will have it soon.
The deuce he is! married to that
vengeance! Men are not to be believed. I don't think
her a fool. Who would have her? Dilly will be
governed like an ass; and she will govern like a
lion. Is not that true, Ppt? Why, Sterne told me
he left you at ombre with Leigh; and yet you never
saw him. I know nothing of his wife being here: it
may cost her a
(I don't like to write that word
plain). He is a little in doubt about buying his
commission. Yes, I will bring you over all the
little papers I can think on. I thought I sent you,
by Leigh, all that were good at that time.
author of the Sea Eclogues sent books to the society
yesterday, and we gave him guineas a-piece; and,
may be, will do further from him (for him, I mean).
So the bishop of Clogher and lady were your guests
for a night or two. Why, Ppt, you are grown a
great gamester and company-keeper. I did say to
myself, when I read those names, just what you
guess; and you clear up the matter wonderfully.
You may converse with those two nymphs if you
please, but take me if ever I do. Yes, faith, it
is delightful to hear that Ppt is every way Ppt now,
in health and looks and all. Pray God keep her
so, many, many, many years.
The session, I doubt,
will not be over till the end of April; however, I
shall not wait for it, if the ministry will let me go
sooner. I wish I were just now in my little garden
at Laracor. I would set out for Dublin early on
Monday, and bring you an account of my young
trees, which you are better acquainted with than the
ministry, and so am I. O, now you have got No.
41; have you so? Why, perhaps, I forgot, and kept
it to next post in my pocket: I have done such tricks.
My cold is better, but not gone. I want air and
riding. Hold your tongue, you Ppt, about colds at
Moor Park! the case is quite different. I will do
what you desire me for Tisdall, when I next see
lord Anglesey. Pray give him my service. The
weather is warm these three or four days, and rainy.
I am to dine to-day with Lewis and Darteneuf at
Somers's, the clerk of the kitchen at court. Darte-
neuf loves good bits and good sups.
Good morrow,
little sirrahs. At night.-I dined, as I said; and it
cost me a shilling for a chair. It has rained all day,
and is very warm. Lady Masham's young son, my
Ι
nephew, is very ill; and she is sick with grief. I
pity her mightily. I am got home early, and going
to write to the bishop of Clogher, but have no poli-
tics to send him. Night, my own two dearest saucy
dear ones.
22. I am going into the city this morning with a
friend about some business; so I will immediately
seal up this, and keep it in my pocket till evening,
and then put it in the post. The weather continues
warm and gloomy. I have heard no news since I
went to bed, so can say no more. Pray send *****
*** **** that I may have time to write to *****
about it. I have here underneath given order [this
is cut off] for forty shillings to Mrs. Brent, which
you will send to Parvisol. Farewell, dearest dear
MD, and love Pdfr dearly. Farewell, MD, MD,
MD, &c. There, there, there, there, there, and there,
and there again.
LETTER THE FORTY-FOURTH.
London, March 22, 1711-12.
UGLY, nasty weather. I was in the city to-day with
Mrs. Wesley and Mrs. Percival, to get money from
a banker for Mrs. Wesley, who goes to Bath on
Thursday. I left them there, and dined with a
friend, and went to see lord-treasurer; but he had
people with him I did not know: so I went to lady
Masham's, and lost a crown with her at picquet, and
then sate with lord Masham and lord-treasurer, &c.,
till past one; but I had my man with me, to come
home. I gave in my 43rd, and one for the bishop of
Clogher, to the post-office, as I came from the city;
and so you know it is late now, and I have nothing
to say for this day. Our Mohocks are all vanished;
however, I shall take care of my person. Night,
my dearest MD.
23. I was this morning, before church, with the
secretary about lord Abercorn's business, and some
others. My soliciting season is come, and will last
as long as the session. I went late to court, and
the company was almost gone. The court serves
me for a coffeehouse; once a-week I meet an ac-
quaintance there that I should not otherwise see in
a quarter. There is a flying report that the French
have offered a cessation of arms, and to give us
Dunkirk, and the Dutch Namur, for security, till the
peace is made.
The duke of Ormond, they say,
goes in a week. Abundance of his equipage is al-
ready gone. His friends are afraid the expense of
this employment will ruin him, since he must lose
the government of Ireland. I dined privately with
a friend, and refused all dinners offered me at court;
which, however, were but two, and I did not
like either. Did I tell you of a scoundrel about
the court, that sells employments to ignorant
people, and cheats them of their money? He lately
made a bargain for the vice-chamberlain's place, for
seven thousand pounds, and had received
guineas earnest; but the whole thing was discovered
the other day, and examination taken of it by lord
Dartmouth, and I hope he will be swinged. The
vice-chamberlain told me several particulars of it
last night at lord Masham's. Can DD play at ombre
yet, enough to hold the cards while Ppt steps into
the next room? Night, dearest sirrahs.
some
24. This morning I recommended Newcomb again
to the duke of Ormond, and left Dick Stewart to do
it farther. Then I went to visit the duchess of
Hamilton, who was not awake. So I went to the
duchess of Shrewsbury, and sat an hour at her toilet.
I talked to her about the duke's being lord-lieutenant.
She said she knew nothing of it; but I rallied her
out of that, and she resolves not to stay behind the
duke. I intend to recommend the bishop of Clogher
to her for an acquaintance. He will like her very
well: she is, indeed, a most agreeable woman, and a
great favourite of mine. I know not whether the
ladies in Ireland will like her. I was at the court
of requests to get some lords to be at a committee
to-morrow about a friend's bill: and then the duke
of Beaufort gave me a poem, finely bound in folio,
printed at Stamford, and writ by a country squire.
Lord Exeter desired the duke to give it the queen,
because the author is his friend; but the duke de-
sired I would let him know whether it was good for
anything. I brought it home and will return it to-
morrow, as the dullest thing I ever read; and
advise the duke not to present it. I dined with
Domville at his lodgings, by invitation; for he goes
in a few days for Ireland. Night, dear MD.
25. There is a mighty feast at a Tory sheriff's to-
day in the city: twelve hundred dishes of meat.-
Above five lords and several hundred gentlemen will
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
247
be there, and give four or five guincas a-piece,
according to custom. Doctor Coghill and I dined,
by invitation, at Mrs. Van's. It has rained or miz-
zled all day, as my pockets feel. There are two
new answers come out to the "Conduct of the
Allies." The last year's "Examiners," printed
together in a small volume, go off but slowly. The
printer over-printed himself by at least a thousand ;
so soon out of fashion are party papers, however so
well writ. The "Medleys" are coming out in the
same volume, and perhaps may sell better. Our news
about a cessation of arms begins to flag, and I have
not these three days seen anybody in business to ask
them about it. We had a terrible fire last night in
Drury-lane, or thereabouts, and three or four people
destroyed. One of the maids of honour has the
small-pox: but the best is, she can lose no beauty;
and we have one new handsome maid of honour.
Night, MD.
26. I forgot to tell you that on Sunday last, about
seven at night, it lightened above fifty times as I
walked the Mall, which I think is extraordinary at
this time of the year, and the weather was very hot.
Had you anything of this in Dublin? I intended to
dine with lord-treasurer to-day; but lord Mansel
and Mr. Lewis made me dine with them at Kit
Musgrave's. Now you don't know who Kit
Musgrave is. I sate the evening with Mrs. Wesley,
who goes to-morrow morning to the Bath, She is
much better than she was. The news of the French
desiring a cessation of arms, &c., was but town talk.
We shall know in a few days, as I am told, whether
there will be a peace or not. The duke of Ormond
will go in a week for Flanders they say. Our Mo-
hocks go on still and cut people's faces every night,
but they shan't cut mine. I like it better as it is.
The dogs will cost me at least a crown a-week in
chairs. I believe the souls of your houghers of
cattle have got into them, and now they don't dis-
tinguish between a cow and a christian. I forgot to
wish you yesterday a happy new year. You know
the twenty-fifth of March is the first day of the year,
and now you must leave off cards and put out your
fire. I'll put out mine the first of April, cold or not
cold. I believe I shall lose credit with you by not
coming over at the beginning of April; but I hoped
the session would be ended, and I must stay till
then; yet I would fain be at the beginning of my
willows growing. Percival tells me that the quicksets
upon the flat in the garden do not grow so well as
those famous ones on the ditch. They want digging
about them. The cherry trees by the river side
my
heart is set upon.
27. Society day, you know that, I suppose. Dr.
Arbuthnot was president. His dinner was dressed
in the queen's kitchen, and was mighty fine.
eat it at Ozinda's chocolate-house, just by St.
James's. We were never merrier nor better com-
pany, and did not part till after eleven. I did not
summon lord Lansdown: he and I are fallen out.
There was something in an Examiner a fortnight
ago that he thought reflected on the abuses in his
office (he is secretary at war), and he writ to the
secretary that he heard I had inserted that paragraph.
This I resented highly, that he should complain of
me before he spoke to me. I sent him a peppering
letter, and would not summon him by note, as I did
the rest; nor ever will have anything to say to him
till he begs my pardon. I met lord-treasurer to-day
at lady Masham's. He would fain have carried me
home to dinner, but I begged his pardon. What!
upon a society day! No, no. It is late, sirrahs. I
am not drunk.-Night, MD.
We
28. I was with my friend Lewis to-day, getting
materials for a little mischief; and I dined with
lord-treasurer and three or four fellows I never saw
before. I left them at seven, and came home, and
have been writing to the archbishop of Dublin and
cousin Deane, in answer to one of his of four months
old, that I spied by chance, routing among my
papers. Domville is going to Ireland; he came
here this morning to take leave of me, but I shall
dine with him to-morrow. Does the bishop of
Clogher talk of coming for England this summer?
I think lord Molesworth told me so about two
months ago.
The weather is bad again; rainy and
very cold this evening. Do you know what the
longitude is? A projector has been applying himself
to me to recommend him to the ministry, because
he pretends to have found out the longitude. I
believe he has no more found it out than he has
found out mine However, I will gravely hear
what he says, and discover him a knave or fool.
Night, MD.
29. I am plagued with these pains in my shoulder;
I believe it is rheumatic; I will do something for it
to-night. Mr. Lewis and I dined with Mr. Dom-
ville, to take our leave of him. I drank three or
four glasses of champaign by perfect teazing, though
it is bad for my pain; but if it continue, I will not
drink any wine without water till I am well. The
weather is abominably cold and wet. I am got into
bed, and have put some old flannel, for want of new,
to my shoulder; and rubbed it with Hungary water.
It is plaguy hard. I never would drink any wine if
it were not for my head, and drinking has given me
this pain. I will try abstemiousness for a while.
How does MD do now; how does DD and Ppt?
You must know I hate pain, as the old woman said.
But I'll try to go to sleep. My flesh sucks up Hun-
gary water rarely. My man is an awkward rascal,
and makes me peevish. Do you know that the other
day he was forced to beg my pardon, that he could
not shave my head, his hand shook so? He is
drunk every day, and I design to turn him off as
soon as ever I get to Ireland. I'll write no more
now, but go to sleep, and see whether flannel and
sleep will cure my shoulder. Night, dearest MD.
30. I was not able to go to church or court to-
day. The pain has left my shoulder, and crept to
my neck and collar-bone. It makes me think of
poor Ppt's blade-bone. Urge, urge, urge; dogs
gnawing. I went in a chair at two, and dined with
Mrs. Van, where I could be easy, and came back at
seven. My Hungary water is gone; and to-night I
use spirits of wine, which my landlady tells me is
very good. It has rained terribly hard all day long,
and is extremely cold. I am very uneasy, and such
cruel twinges every moment! Night, dearest MD.
31. April 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. All these days I
have been extremely ill; though I twice crawled
out a week ago; but am now recovering, though
very weak.
The violence of my pain abated the
night before last: I will just tell you how I was, and
then send this letter, which ought to have gone
Saturday last. The pain increased with mighty vio-
lence in my left shoulder and collar-bone, and that
side my neck. On Thursday morning appeared
great red spots in all those places where my pain
was, and the violence of the pain was confined to my
neck, behind, or a little on the left side; which was
so violent that I had not a minute's ease, nor hardly
a minute's sleep in three days and nights. The spots
increased every day, and red little pimples, which
are now grown white and full of corruption, though
small. The red still continues too, and most pro-
digious hot and inflamed. The disease is the shingles.
I eat nothing but water-gruel; am very weak; but
218
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
out of all violent pain. The doctors say it would
have ended in some violent disease, if it had not
come out thus. I shall now recover fast. I have
been in no danger of life, but miserable torture. So
adieu, dearest MD, FW, &c. There, I can say there
yet, you see. Faith, I don't conceal a bit, as hope
saved.
P.S. I must purge and clyster after this; and my
next letter will not be in the old order of journal till
I have done with physic. Are you not surprised to
see a letter want half a side?
LETTER THE FORTY-FIFTH.
London, April 24, 1712.
I HAD yours two or three days ago. I can hardly
answer it now. Since my last I have been extremely
ill. 'Tis this day just a month since I felt the pain
on the tip of my left shoulder, which grew worse,
and spread for six days; then broke all out by my
collar and left side of my neck in monstrous red
spots inflamed, and these grew to small pimples.
For four days I had no rest nor nights for a pain in
my neck; then I grew a little better; afterward,
where my pains were, a cruel itching seized me,
beyond whatever I could imagine, and kept me
awake several nights. I rubbed it vehemently, but
did not scratch it: then it grew into three or four
great sores like blisters, and run; at last I advised
the doctor to use it like a blister, so I did with
melilot plasters, which still run; and am now in
pain enough, but am daily mending. I kept my
chamber a fortnight, then went out a day or two,
but confined myself two days ago. I went to a
neighbour to dine, but yesterday again kept at home.
To-day I will venture abroad, and hope to be well
in a week or ten days. I never suffered so much in
my life.
I have taken my breeches in above two
inches, so I am leaner, which answers one question
in your letter. The weather is mighty fine. I write
in the morning, because I am better then. I will
go try to walk a little. I will give DD's certificate
to Tooke to-morrow. Farewell, MD, MD, &c.
LETTER THE FORTY-SIXTH.
London, May 10, 1712.
I
I HAVE not yet ease or humour enough to go on in
my journal method, though I have left my chamber
these ten days. My pain continues still in my
shoulder and collar; I keep flannel on it and rub it
with brandy, and take a nasty diet drink. I still
itch terribly, and have some few pimples: I am
weak, and sweat; and then the flannel makes me
mad with itching; but I think my pain lessons. A
journal, while I was sick, would have been a noble
thing, made up of pain and physic, visits, and
messages; the two last were almost as troublesome
as the two first. One good circumstance is, that
I am grown much leaner. I believe I told you
that I have taken in my breeches two inches.
had your No. 29 last night. In answer to your
good opinion of my disease, the doctors said they
never saw anything so odd of the kind; they were
not properly shingles, but herpes miliaris, and twenty
other hard names. I can never be sick like other
people, but always something out of the common
way; and as for your notion of its coming without
pain, it neither came nor stayed, nor went without
pain, and the most pain I ever bore in my life. Me-
demeris is retired in the country, with the beast her
husband long ago. I thank the bishop of Clogher
for his proxy; I will write to him soon. Here is
Dilly's wife in town; but I have not seen her yet.
I
No, simpleton: it is not a sign of health, but a sign
that if it had not come out some terrible fit of sick-
ness would have followed. I was at our society last
Thursday, to receive a new member, the chancellor
of the exchequer; but I drink nothing above wine
and water. We shall have a peace, I hope soon, or
at least entirely broke; but I believe the first. My
letter to lord-treasurer, about the English tongue, is
now printing; and I suffer my name to be put at
the end of it, which I never did before in my life.
The " Appendix to the Third Part of John Bull”
was published yesterday; it is equal to the rest.
I hope you read "John Bull." It was a Scotch
gentleman, a friend of mine, that writ it; but they
put it upon me. The parliament will hardly be up
till June. We were like to be undone some days
ago with a tack;a but we carried it bravely, and the
Whigs came in to help us. Poor lady Masham, I
am afraid will lose her only son, about a twelvemonth
old, with the king's evil. I never would let Mrs.
Fenton see me during my illness, though she often
came; but she has been once since I recovered. Ber-
nage has been twice to see me of late. His regi-
ment will be broke, and he only upon half-pay; so
perhaps he thinks he will want me again. I am
told here the bishop of Clogher and family are coming
over; but he says nothing of it himself. I have
been returning the visits of those that sent how-
dees in my sickness; particularly the duchess of
Hamilton, who came and sat with me two hours. I
make bargains with all people that I dine with, to
let me scrub my back against a chair; and the duchess
of Ormond was forced to bear it the other day.
Many of my friends are gone to Kensington, where
the queen has been removed for some time. This is a
long letter for a sick body.
long letter for a sick body. I will begin the next in
the journal way, though my journals will be sorry
My left hand is very weak and trembles; but
my right side has not been touched.
ones.
This is a pitiful letter, for want of a better;
But plagued with a tetter, my fancy docs fetter.
Ah; my poor willows and quicksets! Well, but you
must read "John Bull." Do you understand it all?
Did I tell you that young parson Grey is going to
be married, and asked my advice when it was too
late to break off? He tells me Elwick has purchased
forty pounds a-year in land adjoining to his living.
Ppt does not say one word of her own little health.
I am vexed almost; but I won't, because she is a
Yes, and so is DD too.
good girl in other things.
God bless MD, and FW, and Me, and Pdfr too.
Farewell, MD, MD, MD, Lele. I can say lele yet,
young women; yes I can, well as you.
LETTER THE FORTY-SEVENTH.
London, May 31, 1712.
I CANNOT yet arrive to my journal letters, my pains
continuing still, though with less violence; but I
don't love to write journals while I am in pain; and
above all not journals to MD. But, however, I am
so much mended, that I intend my next shall be in
the old way; and yet I shall perhaps break my reso-
lution when I feel pain. I believe I have lost credit
with you in relation to my coming over; but I pro-
test it is impossible for one who has anything to do
with this ministry to be certain when he fixes any
time. There is a business, which, till it takes some
turn or other, I cannot leave this place in prudence or
honour. And I never wished so much as now that I
"A tack is a bill tacked to a money bill, that as both must
be passed or rejected together, the tacked bill may pass because
the money bill must.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
249
had stayed in Ireland; but the die is cast and is now
a spinning, and till it settles I cannot tell whether
it be an ace or a sise. The moment I am used ill I
will leave them; but know not how to do it while
things are in suspense.-The session will soon be over
The session will soon be over
believe in a fortnight), and the peace, we hope,
will be made in a short time; and there will be no
farther occasion for me; nor have I anything to trust
to but court gratitude; so that I expect to see my
willows a month after the parliament is up: but I will
take MD in my way, and not go to Laracor like an
unmannerly spreenckish fellow. Have you seen my
"Letter to Lord-treasurer?" There are two answers
come out to it already; though it is no politics, but
a harmless proposal about the improvement of the
English tongue. I believe if I writ an essay upon
a straw some fool would answer it. About ten days
hence I expect a letter from MD, No. 30.—You are
now writing it, near the end, as I guess.—I have
not received DD's money; but I will give you a
note for it on Parvisol, and beg your pardon I have
not done it before. I am just now thinking to go
lodge at Kensington for the air. Lady Masham has
teased me to do it, but business has hindered me;
but now lord-treasurer has removed thither. Fifteen
of our society dined together under a canopy in an
arbour at Parson's-green last Thursday; I never saw
anything so fine and romantic. We got a great
victory last Wednesday in the house of lords by a
majority, I think, of twenty-eight; and the Whigs
had desired their friends to bespeak places to see
lord-treasurer carried to the Tower.
I met your
Higgins here yesterday; he roars at the insolence of
the Whigs in Ireland, talks much of his own suffer-
ings and expenses in asserting the cause of the
church; and I find he would fain plead merit enough
to desire that his fortune should be mended. I be-
lieve he designs to make as much noise as he can in
order to preferment. Pray let the provost, when he
sees you, give you ten English shillings, and I will
give as much here to the man who delivered me Ry-
mer's books: he knows the meaning. Tell him I
will not trust him, but that you can order it to be
paid me here; and I will trust you till I see you.
Have I told you that the rogue Patrick has left me
these two months to my great satisfaction? I have
got another, who seems to be much better, if he con-
tinues it. I am printing a threepenny pamphlet,a and
shall print another in a fortnight, and then I have
done, unless some new occasion starts. Is my curate
Warburton married to Mrs. Melthrop in my parish?
so I hear. Or is it a lie? Has Raymond got to his
new house? Do you see Joe now and then? What
luck have you at ombre? How stands it with the
dean? My service to Mrs. Stoyte and Catherine, if
she be come from Wales. I have not yet seen Dilly
Ashe's wife. I called once, but she was not at home:
I think she is under the doctor's hand. I believe
the news of the duke af Ormond producing letters
in the council of war, with orders not to fight, will
surprise you in Ireland. Lord-treasurer said in the
house of lords that in a few days the treaty of peace
should be laid before them; and our court thought
it wrong to hazard a battle, and sacrifice many lives
in such a juncture. If the peace holds all will do
well, otherwise I know not how we shall weather it.
And it was reckoned as a wrong step in politics for
lord-treasurer to open himself so much. The secre-
tary would not go so far to satisfy the Whigs in the
house of commons; but there all went swimmingly.
I'll say no more to you to-night, sirrahs, because I
a "Some Reasons to prove that no person is obliged, by his
Principles as a Whig, to oppose her Majesty or the present
Ministry."
must send away the letter, not by the bell, but early :
and besides, I have not much more to say at this pre-
sent writing. Does MD never read at all now, pray?
But you walk prodigiously, I suppose.-You make
nothing of walking to, to, to, ay, to Donybrook. I
walk as much as I can, because sweating is good;
but I'll walk more if I go to Kensington. I sup-
pose I shall have no apples this year neither.
So
I dined the other day with lord Rivers, who is sick
at his country house, and he showed me all his cher-
ries blasted. Night, dearest sirrahs; farewell, dear-
est lives, love poor Pdfr. Farewell, dearest little MD.
LETTER THE FORTY-EIGHTH.
Kensington, June 17, 1712.
It
I HAVE been so tosticated about since my last, that
I could not go on in my journal manner, though my
shoulder is a great deal better; however, I feel violent
pain in it, but I think it diminishes, and I have cut
off some slices from my flannel. I have lodged here
near a fortnight, partly for the air and exercise,
partly to be near the court, where dinners are to be
found. I generally get a lift in a coach to town, and
in the evening I walk back. On Saturday I dined
with the duchess of Ormond at her lodge near Sheen,
and thought to get a boat as usual. I walked by the
bank to Kew, but no boat, then to Mortlake, but no
boat, and it was nine o'clock. At last a little sculler
called, full of nasty people. I made him set me down
at Hammersmith, so walked two miles to this place,
and got here by eleven. Last night I had another
such difficulty. I was in the city till past ten at
night; it rained hard, but no coach to be had.
gave over a little, and I walked all the way here,
and got home by twelve. I love these shabby diffi-
culties when they are over; but I hate them, because
they arise from not having a thousand pounds a-year.
I had your No. 30 about three days ago, which I will
now answer. And first I did not relapse, but I came
out before I ought; and so, and so, as I have told you
in some of my last. The first coming abroad made
people think I was quite recovered, and I had no
more messages afterward. Well, but "John Bull"
is not wrote by the person you imagine. It is too
good for another to own. Had it been Grub-street,
I would have let people think as they please; and I
think that's right: is not it now? so flap your hand,
and make wry mouths yourself, saucy doxy. Now
comes DD. Why, sirrahs, I did write in a fortnight
my 47th; and if it did not come in due time, can I help
wind and weather? am I a Laplander? am I witch?
can I work miracles? can I make easterly winds?
Now I am against Dr. Smith. I drink little water
with my wine, yet I believe he is right. Yet Dr.
Cockburn told me a little wine would not hurt me;
but it is so hot and dry, and water is so dangerous. The
worst thing here is my evenings at lord Masham's,
where lord-treasurer comes, and we sit till after
twelve. But it is convenient I should be among
them for a while as much as possible. I need not
tell you why. But I hope that will be at an end
in a month or two one way or other, and I am re-
solved it shall; but I can't go to Tunbridge, or any-
where else out of the way, in this juncture. So Ppt
designs for Templeoag (what a name is that!).
Whereabouts is that place? I hope not very far from
Higgins is here roaring that all is wrong in
Ireland, and would have me get him an audience of
lord-treasurer to tell him so; but I will have nothing
to do in it, no, not I, faith. We have had no
thunder till last night, and till then we were
dead for want of rain; but there fell a great deal:
no field looked green. I reckon the queen will go
250
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
Re-
to Windsor in three or four weeks: and if the secre-
tary takes a house there, I shall be sometimes with
him. But how affectedly Ppt talks of my being
here all the summer; which I do not intend, nor to
stay one minute longer in England than becomes
the circumstances I am in. I wish you would go soon
into the country, and take a good deal of it; and
where better than Trim? Joe will be your humble
servant, Parvisol your slave, and Raymond at your
command, for he piques himself on good manners.
I have seen Dilly's wife-and I have seen once or
twice old Bradley here. He is very well, very old,
and very wise: I believe I must go see his wife when
I have leisure. I should be glad to see Goody Stoyte
and her husband; pray give them my humble service,
and to Catherine, and to Mrs. Walls-I cannot be
the least bit in love with Mrs. Walls-I suppose the
cares of the husband increase with the fruitfulness of
the wife. I am glad at heart to hear of Ppt's good
health; please to let her finish it by drinking waters.
I hope DD had her bill, and has her money.
member to write a due time before the money is
wanted, and be good girls, good dallars, I mean, and
no crying dallars. I heard somebody coming up
stairs, and forgot I was in the country; and I was
afraid of a visitor; that is one advantage of being
here, that I am not teased with solicitors. Molt,
the chemist, is my acquaintance. My service to Dr.
Smith. I sent the question to him about sir Walter
Raleigh's cordial, and the answer he returned is in
these words: "It is directly after Mr. Boyle's re-
ceipt." That commission is performed; if he wants
any of it, Molt shall use him fairly. I suppose Smith is
one of your physicians. So now your letter is fully
and impartially answered: not as rascals answer me:
I believe, if I writ an essay upon a straw, I should
have a shoal of answers: but no matter for that:
you see I can answer without making any reflections,
as becomes men of learning. Well, but now for the
peace: why, we expect it daily; but the French
have the staff in their own hands, and we trust to
their honesty. I wish it were otherwise. Things
are now in the way of being soon in the extremes of
well or ill. I hope and believe the first. Lord
Wharton is gone out of town in a rage, and curses
himself and friends for ruining themselves in defend-
ing lord Marlborough and Godolphin, and taking
Nottingham into their favour. He swears he will
meddle no more during this reign; a pretty speech
at sixty-six, and the queen is near twenty years
younger, and now in very good health; for you
must know her health is fixed by a certain reason,
that she has done with braces (I must use the ex-
pression), and nothing ill has happened to her since;
so she has a new lease of her life. Read the "Letter
to a Whig lord."
It
again, though my shoulder is not yet well; for 1
have still a few itching pimples, and a little pain
now and then. It is now high cherry time with us;
take notice, is it so soon with you? And we have
early apricots; and gooseberries are ripe. On Sun-
day archdeacon Parnell came here to see me.
seems he has been ill for grief of his wife's death,
and has been two months at Bath. He has a mind
to go to Dunkirk with Jack Hill, and I persuade
him to it, and have spoke to Hill to receive him;
but I doubt he won't have spirit to go. I have made
Ford gazetteer, and got two hundred pounds a-year
settled on the employment by the secretaries of state,
beside the perquisites. It is the prettiest employ-
ment in England of its bigness; yet the puppy does
not seem satisfied with it. I think people keep
some follies to themselves, till they have occasion to
produce them. He thinks it not genteel enough,
and makes twenty difficulties. It is impossible to
make any man easy. His salary is paid him every
week, if he pleases, without taxes or abatements.
He has little to do for it. He has a pretty office,
with coals, candles, papers, &c.; can frank what
letters he will; and his perquisites, if he takes care,
may be worth one hundred pounds more. I hear
the bishop of Clogher is landing, or landed, in Eng-
land; and I hope to see him in a few days. I was
to see Mrs. Bradley on Sunday night. Her young-
est son is to marry somebody worth nothing, and
her daughter was forced to leave lady Giffard, be-
cause she was striking up an intrigue with a foot-
man who played well on the flute. This is the
mother's account of it. Yesterday, the old bishop
of Worcester,a who pretends to be a prophet, went
to the queen by appointment, to prove to her ma-
jesty, out of Daniel and the Revelation, that four
years hence there would be a war of religion; that
the king of France would be a protestant, and fight
on their side; that the popedom would be destroyed,
&c.; and declared that he would be content to give
Lord-treasurer,
up his bishopric if it were not true.
who told it me, was by, and some others; and I am
told lord-treasurer confounded him sadly in his own
learning, which made the old fool very quarrelsome.
He is near ninety years old. Old Bradley is fat and
lusty, and has lost his palsy. Have you seen "To-
land's Invitation to Dismal ?" [the earl of Notting-
like it? But it is an imitation
ham.] How do you like it?
of Horace, and perhaps you do not understand Ho-
Here has been a great sweep of employments,
and we expect still more removals. The court seems
resolved to make thorough work. Mr. Hill intended
to set out to-morrow for Dunkirk, of which he is
appointed governor; but he tells me to-day that he
cannot go till Thursday or Friday. I wish it were
race.
over.
Do you ever read? Why don't
you say so? I mean does DD read to Ppt? Do
you walk? I think Ppt should walk to DD, as DD
reads to Ppt, for Ppt you must know is a good
walker; but not so good as Pdfr. I intend to dine
I intend to dine
to-day with Mr. Lewis: but it threatens rain; and
I shall be too late to get a lift; and I must write
to the bishop of Clogher. It is now ten in the
morning; and this is all writ at a heat. Farewell,
dearest MD.
LETTER THE FORTY-NINTH.
Kensington, July 1, 1712.
I NEVER was in a worse station for writing letters
than this; for I go to town early; and when I come
home at night I generally go to lord Masham's,
where lord treasurer comes, and we stay till past
twelve: but I am now resolved to write journals
1
Mr. Secretary tells me he is in no fear at all
that France will play tricks with us. If we have
Dunkirk once, all is safe. We rail now all against
the Dutch, who, indeed, have acted like knaves,
fools, and madmen. Mr. Secretary is soon to be
made a viscount. He desired I would draw the
preamble of his patent; but I excused myself from a
work that might lose me a great deal of reputation,
We would fain have the
and get me very little.
court make him an earl, but it will not be; and
therefore he will not take the title of Bolingbroke,
which is lately extinct in the elder branch of his
family. I have advised him to be called lord Pom-
fret; but he thinks that title is already in some other
family; and besides, he objects that it is in York-
shire, where he has no estate; but there is nothing
Dr. William Lloyd, bishop of Worcester, a man of learning,
and author of a History of the Government of the Church,
and other works.
С
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
251
surer
in that, and I love Pomfret. Don't you love Pom-
fret? Why? 'Tis in all our histories; they are full
of Pomfret-castle. But what's all this to you? You
don't care for this? Is Goody Stoyte come to Lon-
don? I have not heard of her yet. The dean of St.
Patrick's never had the manners to answer my letter.
I was the other day to see Stearn and his wife. She
is not half so handsome as when I saw her with you
at Dublin. They design to pass the summer at a
house near lord Somers's, about a dozen miles off.
You never told me how my
"Letter to Lord-Trea-
passes in Ireland. I suppose you are drink-
ing at this time Temple-something waters. Steele
was arrested the other day for making a lottery di-
rectly against an act of parliament. He is now un-
der prosecution; but they think it will be dropped
out of pity. I believe he will very soon lose his
employment, for he has been mighty impertinent of
late in his Spectators; and I will never offer a word
in his behalf. Raymond writes me word that the
bishop of Meath [Dr. William Moreton] was going
to summon me, in order to suspension for absence,
if the provost had not prevented him. I am prettily
rewarded for getting them their first-fruits with a
p-. We have had very little hot weather during
the whole month of June; and for a week past we
have had a great deal of rain, though not every day.
I am just now told that the governor of Dunkirk
has not orders yet to deliver up the town to Jack
Hill and his forces, but expects them daily. This
must put off Hill's journey a while, and I don't like
these stoppings in such an affair. Go, get you gone,
and drink your waters, if this rain has not spoiled
them, saucy doxy. I have no more to say to you at
present; but love Pdfr, and MD, and Me. And
Pdfr will love Pdfr, and MD, and Me. I wish you
had taken an account when I sent money to Mrs.
Brent.
I believe I have not done it a great while.
Farewell, dearest MD.
LETTER THE FIFTIETH.
I can
I
I
;
Kensington, July 17, 1712.
I AM weary of living in this place, and glad to leave
it soon.
The queen goes on Tuesday to Windsor,
and I shall follow in three or four days after.
do nothing here, going early to London, and coming
late from it, and supping at lady Masham's. I dined
to-day with the duke of Argyle at Kew, and would
not go to the court to-night, because of writing to
MD. The bishop of Clogher has been here this
fortnight I see him as often as I can. Poor Master
Ashe has a bad redness in his face; it is St. An-
thony's fire; his face all swelled, and will break out
in his cheek, but no danger. Since Dunkirk has
been in our hands, Grub-street has been very frult-
ful. Pdfr has writ five or six Grub-street papers this
last week. Have you seen "Toland's Invitation to
Dismal," or "Hue and Cry after Dismal," or "Bal-cherry-trees on the river walk?
lad on Dunkirk," or Agreement that Dunkirk is
not in our hands?" Poh! you have seen nothing.
I am dead here with the hot weather; yet I walk
every night home, and believe it does me good: but
my shoulder is not yet right; itchings, and scratch-
ings, and small achings. Did I tell you that I have
made Ford gazetteer, with two hundred pounds
a-year salary, besides perquisites? I had a letter
lately from Parvisol, who says my canal looks very
finely; I long to see it; but no apples; all blasted
again.
and as heartily as Ppt. What had I to do here?
have heard of the bishop's [of Meath] making me
uneasy, but I did not think it was because I never
wrote to him. A little would make me write to
I find I am
him, but I don't know what to say.
obliged to the provost for keeping the bishop from
being impertinent. Yes, Mrs. DD, but you would
not be content with letters from Pdfr of six lines, or
twelve either, faith. I hope Ppt will have done
with the waters soon, and find benefit by them.
believe, if they were as far off as Wexford, they
would do as much good; for I take the journey to
contribute as much as anything. I can assure you,
the bishop of Clogher's being here does not in the
least affect my staying or going. I never talked to
Higgins but once in my life in the street, and I be-
lieve he and I shall hardly meet but by chance.
What care I whether my "Letter to Lord-Treasurer"
be commended there or not? Why does not some-
body among you answer it, as three or four have
done here? (I am now sitting with nothing but my
bedgown, for heat.) Ppt shall have a great Bible,
and DD shall be repaid her other book; but pa-
tience; all in good time: you are so hasty, a dog,
would, &c. So Ppt has neither won nor lost. Why,
mun, I play sometimes too at picket; that is pic.
quet, I mean; but very seldom.-Out late? why, it
is only at lady Masham's, and that is in our towu
but I never come late here from London, except
once in rain, when I could not get a coach. We
have had very little thunder here; none these two
months. Why, pray, madam philosopher, how did
the rain hinder the thunder from doing any harm?
I suppose it squenched it. So here comes Ppt again
with her little watery postscript. You bold drunken
slut you! drink Pdfr's health ten times in a morn-
ing! you are a whetter, faith. I sup MD's fifteen
times every morning in milk porridge. There's for
you now-and there's for your letter, and every kind
of thing-and now I must say something else.
hear secretary St. John is made viscount Boling-
broke. I could hardly persuade him to take that
title, because the eldest branch of his family had it
in an earldom, and it was last year extinct. If he
did not take it, I advised him to be lord Pomfret,
which I think is a noble title. You hear of it often
in the Chronicles, Pomfret-castle: but we believed
it was among the titles of some other lord. Jack
Hill sent his sister a pattern of a head-dress from
Dunkirk;
it was like our fashion twenty years ago,
only not quite so high, and looks very ugly. I have
made Trap chaplain to lord Bolingbroke, and he is
mighty happy and thankful for it. Mr. Addison
returned me my visit this morning. He lives in our
town. I shall be mighty retired, and mighty busy
for a while at Windsor. Pray why don't MD go to
Trim, and see Laracor, and give me an account of
the garden, and the river, and the holly and the
He tells me there will be a triennial visita-
tion in August. I must send Raymond another
proxy. So now I will answer your letter, No. 30,
dated June 17. Ppt writes as well as ever, for all
her waters. I wish I had never come here, as often
You
19. I could not send this letter last post, being
called away before I could finish it. I dined yester-
day with lord-treasurer; sat with him till ten at
night; yet could not find a minute for some business
I had with him. He brought me to Kensington,
and lord Bolingbroke would not let me go away till
two; and I am now in bed, very lazy and sleepy at
nine. I must shave head and face, and meet lord
Bolingbroke at eleven, and dine again with lord-
treasurer. To-day there will be another Grub, “ A
Letter from the Pretender to a Whig Lord." Grub-
street has but ten days to live; then an act of par-
liament takes place that ruins it, by taxing every
half-sheet at a half-penny. We have news just
come, but not the particulars, that the earl of Albe-
252
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
marle, at the head of eight thousand Dutch, is
beaten, lost the greatest part of his men, and himself
made a prisoner. This perhaps may cool their
courage, and make them think of a peace. The
duke of Ormond has got abundance of credit by his
good conduct of affairs in Flanders. We had a good
deal of rain last night, very refreshing. It is late,
and I must rise. Don't play at ombre in your
waters, sirrah. Farewell, dearest MD.
LETTER THE FIFTY-FIRST.
London, Aug. 7, 1712.
|
I HAD your No. 32 at Windsor: I just read it, and
immediately sealed it up again, and shall read it no
more this twelvemonth at least. The reason of my
resentment is, because you talk as glibly of a thing
as if it were done, which, for aught I know, is far-
ther from being done than ever, since I hear not a
word of it, though the town is full of it, and the
court always giving me joy and vexation. You
might be sure I would have let you know as soon
as it was done; but I believe you fancied I would
not affect to tell it you, but let you learn it from
newspapers and reports. I remember only there was
something in your letter about Me's money; and
that shall be taken care of on the other side. I left
Windsor on Monday last, upon lord Bolingbroke's
being gone to France; and somebody's being here
that I ought often to consult with in an affair I am
upon: but that person talks of returning to Windsor
again, and I believe I shall follow him. I am now
in a hedge lodging very busy, as I am every day till
noon so that this letter is like to be short, and you
are not to blame me these two months; for I pro-
test, if I study ever so hard, I cannot in that time
compass what I am upon. We have a fever both
here and at Windsor, which hardly anybody misses;
but it lasts not above three or four days, and kills
nobody. The queen had forty servants down in it |
at once. I dined yesterday with lord-treasurer, but
could do no business, though he sent for me I
thought on purpose; but he desires I will dine with
him again to-day. Windsor is a most delightful
place, and at this time abounds in dinners. My
lodgings look upon Eton and the Thames. I wish
I were owner of them; they belong to a prebend.
God knows what was in your letter; and if it be not
answered, whose fault is it, saucy dallars? Do you
know that Grub-street is dead and gone last week?
No more ghosts or murders now for love or money.
I plied it pretty close the last fortnight, and pub-
lished at least seven penny papers of my own, be-
sides some of other people's: but now every single
half-sheet pays a half-penny to the queen.
"Observator" is fallen; the "Medleys" are jumbled
together with the "Flying Post;" the "Examiner"
is deadly sick; the "Spectator" keeps up, and
doubles its price; I know not how long it will hold.
Have you seen the red stamp the papers are marked
with? Methinks it is worth a half-penny the stamp-
ing. Lord Bolingbroke and Prior set out for France
last Saturday. My lord's business is to hasten the
peace before the Dutch are too much mauled, and to
hinder France from carrying the jest of beating
them too far. Have you seen the fourth part of
John Bull? It is equal to the rest, and extremely
good. The bishop of Clogher's son has been ill of
St. Anthony's fire, but is now quite well.
afraid his face would be spoiled, but it is not. Dilly
is just as he used to be, and puns as plentifully and
as bad. The two brothers see one another; and I
a His IIistory of the Four last Years.
The
I was
think not the two sisters. Raymond wrote to me
that he intended to invite you to Trim.
Are you,
have you, will you be there?
be there? Won't you see poor
Laracor? Parvisol says I shall have no fruit. Blasts
have taken away all. Pray observe the cherry-trees
in the river walk; but you are too lazy to take such
a journey. If you have not your letters in due time
for two months hence, impute it to my being tosti-
cated between this and Windsor. Poor lord Win-
chelsea is dead, to my great grief. He was a worthy
honest gentleman, and particular friend of mine;
and, what is yet worse, my old acquaintance, Mrs.
Finch, is now countess of Winchelsea, the title being
fallen to her husband, but without much estate. I
have been poring my eyes all this morning, and it is
now past two afternoon, so I shall take a little walk
in the park. Do you play at ombre still ? Or is
that off by Mr. Stoyte's absence and Mrs. Manley's
grief? Somebody was telling me of a strange sister
that Mrs. Manley has got in Ireland, who dis-
appointed you all about her being handsome. My
service to Mrs. Walls. Farewell, dearest MD, FW,
Me, Lele, rogues both; love poor Pdfr.
|
LETTER THE FIFTY-SECOND.
Windsor, Sept. 15, 1712.
I am
I NEVER was so long without writing to MD as now
since I left them, nor ever will again while I am
able to write. I have expected from one week to
another that something would be done in my own
affairs; but nothing at all is, nor I don't know
when anything will, or whether any at all, so slow
are people at doing favours. I have been much out
of order of late with the old giddiness in my head.
I took a vomit for it two days ago, and will take
another about a day or two hence. I have eat
mighty little fruit; yet I impute my disorder to that
little, and shall henceforth wholly forbear it.
engaged in a long work, and have done all I can of
it, and wait for some papers from the ministry for
materials for the rest; and they delay me, as if it
were a favour I asked of them; so that I have been
idle here this good while, and it happened in a right
time, when I was too much out of order to study.
One is kept constantly out of humour by a thousand
unaccountable things in public proceedings; and
when I reason with some friends, we cannot con-
ceive how affairs can last as they are.
God only
knows, but it is a very melancholy subject for those
who have any near concern in it. I am again en-
deavouring, as I was last year, to keep people from
breaking to pieces upon a hundred misunderstand-
ings. One cannot withhold them from drawing
different ways, while the enemy is watching to de-
stroy both. See how my style is altered, by living
and thinking, and talking among these people, in-
stead of my canal and river, walk and willows.
lose all my money here among the ladies; so that I
never play when I can help it, being sure to lose. I
have lost five pounds the five weeks I have been
here. I hope Ppt is luckier at picquet with the
dean and Mrs. Walls. The dean never answered
my letter, and I have clearly forgot whether I sent a
bill for Me in any of my last letters. I think I did;
pray let me know, and always give me timely notice.
I wait here but to see what they will do for me;
and whenever preferments are given from
said, I will come over.
18. I have taken a vomit to-day, and hope I shall
be better. I have been very giddy since I wrote
what is before, yet not as I used to be more fre-
quent, but not so violent. Yesterday we were
me, as
I
***
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
253
alarmed with the queen's being ill: she had an
aguish and feverish fit; and you never saw such
countenances as we all had, such dismal melancholy.
Her physicians from town were sent for; but to-
ward night she grew better; to-day she missed her
fit, and was up: we are not now in any fear; it will
be at worst but an ague, and we hope even that
will not return. Lord-treasurer would not come
here from London, because it would make a noise,
if he came before his usual time, which is Saturday,
and he goes away on Mondays. The Whigs have
lost a great support in the earl of Godolphin. It is
a good jest to hear the ministers talk of him with
humanity and pity, because he is dead, and can do
them no more hurt. Lady Orkney,ª the late king's
mistress, (who lives at a fine place, five miles from
hence, called Cliffden,) and Î, are grown mighty
acquaintance. She is the wisest woman I ever saw;
and lord-treasurer made great use of her advice in
the late change of affairs. I heard lord Marlborough
is growing ill of his diabetes; which, if it be true,
may soon carry him off; and then the ministry will
be something more at ease. MD has been a long
time without writing to Pdfr, though they have not
the same cause it is seven weeks since your last
came to my hands, which was No. 32, that you may
not be mistaken. I hope Ppt has not wanted her
health. You were then drinking waters. The doc-
tor tells me I must go into a course of steel, though
I have not the spleen; for that they can never give
me, though I have as much provocation to it as any
man alive. Bernage's regiment is broke; but he is
upon half-pay. I have not seen him this long time;
but I suppose he is overrun with melancholy. My
lord Shrewsbury is certainly designed to be governor
of Ireland; and I believe the duchess will please
the people there mightily. The Irish Whig leaders
promise great things to themselves from this govern-
ment but great care shall be taken, if possible, to
prevent them. Mrs. Fenton has writ to me that she
has been forced to leave lady Giffard, and come to
town, for a rheumatism: that lady does not love to
be troubled with sick people. Mrs. Fenton writes
to me as one dying, and desires I would think of
her son: I have not answered her letter. She is
retired to Mrs. Povey's. Is my aunt alive yet? and
do you ever see her? I suppose she has forgot the
loss of her son. Is Raymond's new house quite
finished? and does he squander as he used to do?
Has he yet spent all his wife's fortune? I hear
there are five or six people putting strongly in for
my livings; God help them! But if ever the court
should "give me anything, I would recommend Ray-
mond to the Duke of Ormond; not for any particu-
lar friendship to him, but because it would be proper
for the minister of Trim to have Laracor. You may
keep the gold studded snuff-box now; for my
brother Hill, governor of Dunkirk, has sent me the
finest that ever you saw.
It is allowed at court that
none in England comes near it, though it did not
cost above twenty pounds. And the duchess of
Hamilton has made me a pocket for it, like a
woman's, with a belt and buckle (for, you know, I
wear no waistcoat in summer), and there are several
divisions, and one on purpose for my box, oh, ho!—
We have had most delightful weather this whole
week; but illness and vomiting have hindered me
from sharing in a great part of it. Lady Masham
made the queen send to Kensington for some of her
preserved ginger for me, which I take in the morn-
ing, and hope it will do me good. Mrs. Brent sent
me a letter by a young fellow, a printer, desiring I
a Lady Elizabeth Villiers, on whom King William settled a
large estate in Ireland.
would recommend him here, which you may tell her
I have done but I cannot promise what will come
of it, for it is necessary they should be made free
here before they can be employed. I remember I
put the boy apprentice to Brent. I hope Parvisol
has set my tithes well this year; he has writ nothing
to me about it; pray talk to him of it when you see
him, and let him give me an account how things are.
I
suppose the corn is now off the ground. I hope he
has sold that great ugly horse. Why don't you talk
to him? He keeps me at charges for horses that I
never ride yours is large, and will never be good
for anything. The queen will stay here about a
month longer I suppose; but lady Masham will go
in ten days to lie in at Kensington. Poor creature!
she fell down in the court here the other day. She
would needs walk across it upon some displeasure
with her chairmen, and was likely to be spoiled so
near her time; but we hope all is over for a black
eye and a sore side; though I shall not be at ease
tlll she is brought to bed. I find I can fill up a
letter, some way or other, without a journal.
had not a spirit naturally cheerful," I should be very
much discontented at a thousand things. Pray God
preserve MD's health, and Pdfr's, and that I may
live free from the envy and discontent that attends
those who are thought to have more favour at court
than they really possess. Love Pdfr, who loves MD
above all things. Farewell, dearest, ten thousand
times dearest, MD.
LETTER THE FIFTY-THIRD.
If I
I was very
I
London, Oct. 9, 1712.
I HAVE left Windsor these ten days, and am deep in
pills with asafoetida and a steel bitter drink; and I
find my head much better than it was.
much discouraged; for I used to be ill for three
or four days together, ready to totter as I walked.
I take eight pills a-day, and have taken, I believe,
a hundred and fifty already. The queen, lord-
treasurer, lady Masham and I were all ill together,
but are now all better; only lady Masham expects
every day to lie in at Kensington. There never was
such a lump of lies spread about the town together as
now. I doubt not but you will have them in Dub-
lin before this comes to you, and all without the
least ground of truth. I have been mightily put
back in something I am writing by my illness, but
hope to fetch it up, so as to be ready when the par
liament meets. Lord-treasurer has had an ugly fit
of the rheumatism, but it is now near quite well.
was playing at one-and-thirty with him and his family
the other night. He gave us all twelvepence apiece to
begin with: it put me in mind of sir William Tem-
ple. I asked both him and lady Masham seriously
whether the queen were at all inclined to a dropsy?
And they positively assured me she was not; so did
her physician Arbuthnot, who always attends her.
Yet these devils have spread that she has holes in
her legs and runs at her navel, and I know not what.
Arbuthnot has sent me from Windsor a pretty Dis-
course upon Lying, and I have ordered the printer
to come for it. It is a proposal for publishing a
curious piece, called "The Art of Political Lying,
in two volumes," &c. And then there is an ab-
stract of the first volume, just like those pamphlets
which they call "The Works of the Learned.
Pray get it when it comes out. The queen has a
little of the gout in one of her hands. I believe she
will stay a month still at Windsor. Lord-treasurer
a His life is a mournful and striking instance of the power of
disappointment totally to subvert natural cheerfulness, to take
away the value of every good, and aggravate real by imagery
evil.
254
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
showed me the kindest letter from her in the world,
by which I picked out one secret, that there will be
soon made some knights of the Garter. You know
another is fallen by lord Godolphin's death: he will
be buried in a day or two at Westminster Abbey.
I saw Tom Leigh in town once. The bishop of
The bishop of
Clogher has taken his lodging for the winter; they
are all well. I hear there are in town abundance of
people from Ireland; half-a-dozen bishops at least.
The poor old bishop of London,a at past fourscore,
fell down backward going up stairs, and I think
broke or cracked his skull; yet is now recovering.
The town is as empty as at midsummer; and if I
had not occasion for physic, I would be at Windsor
still. Did I tell you of lord Rivers' will? He has left
legacies to about twenty paltry old whores by name,
and not a farthing to any friend, dependent, or rela-
tion: he has left from his only child, lady Barrymore,b
her mother's estate, and given the whole to his heir-
male, a popish priest, a second cousin, who is now
earl Rivers, and whom he used in his life like a foot-
man.
After him it goes to his chief wench and
bastard. Lord-treasurer and lord-chamberlain are
executors of this hopeful will. I loved the man, but
detest his memory. We hear nothing of peace yet:
I believe verily the Dutch are so wilful because they
are told the queen cannot live. I had poor MD's
letter, No. 32, at Windsor: but I could not answer
it then; Pdfr was very sick then: and, besides, it
was a very inconvenient place to write letters from.
You thought to come home the same day, and
stayed a month :" that was a sign the place was
agreeable. I should love such a sort of jaunt. Is
that lad Swenton a little more fixed than he used to
be? I think you like the girl very well. She has left
off her grave airs, I suppose. I am now told lord
Godolphin was buried last night.-O poor Ppt (Mrs.
Johnson). I believe I escaped the new fever, for the
same reason that Ppt did, because I am not well;
but why should DD escape it, pray? She is melthigal,
you know, and ought to have the fever; but I hope
it is now too late, and she wont have it at all.
Some physicians here talk very melancholy, and
think it foreruns the plague, which is actually at
Hamburgh. I hoped Ppt would have done with her
illness; but I think we both have the faculty never
to part with a disorder for ever; we are very constant.
I have had my giddiness twenty-three years by fits.
Will Mrs. Raymond never have done lying-in?
He intends to leave beggars enough; for I dare say
he has squandered away the best part of his fortune.
already, and is not out of debt. I had a letter from
him lately.
it, and a tenfold delight to do it to a relation of Ppt,
whose affairs Pdfr has so at heart. I have taken
down his name and his case (not her case); and
whenever a proper time comes I will do all I can :
that is enough to say when I can do no more; and I
beg your pardon a thousand times that I cannot do
better; I hope the dean of St. Patrick's (Dr. Sterne)
is well of his fever: he has never wrote to me: I am
glad of it; pray don't desire him to write. I have
dated your bill late, because it must not commence,
young women, till the first of November next. 0,
faith, I must be ise; yes, faith, must I ; else we shall
cheat Pdfr. Are you good housewives and readers?
Are you walkers? I know you are gamesters. Are
you drinkers? Are you
hold, I must go no
further, for fear of abusing fine ladies. Parvisol has
not sent me one word how he set this year's tithes.
Pray, ask whether tithes set well or ill this year.
Bishop of Killaloe tells me wool bears a good rate in
Ireland but how is corn?
:
I dined yesterday with
lady Orkney, and we sat alone from two till eleven
at night.-You have heard of her, I suppose. I
have twenty letters upon my hands, and am so lazy
and so busy, I cannot answer them, and they grow
upon me for several months. Have I any apples at
Laracor? It is strange every year should blast them,
when I took so much care for shelter. Lord Boling-
broke has been idle at his country house this fort-
night, which puts me backward in business I have.
I am got into an ordinary room two pair of stairs,
and see nobody if I can help it; yet some puppies
have found me out, and my man is not such an
artist as Patrick at denying me. Patrick has been
soliciting to come to me again, but in vain.
printer has been here with some of the new whims
printed, and has taken up my time. I am just going
out, and can only bid you farewell. Farewell,
dearest little MD, &c.
LETTER THE FIFTY-FOURTH.
The
London, Oct. 28, 1712.
I HAVE been in physic this month, and have been
better these three weeks. I stop my physic by the
doctor's orders, till he sends me farther directions.
DD grows politician, and longs to hear the peace is
proclaimed. I hope we shall have it soon, for the
Dutch are fully humbled; and Prior is just come
over from France for a few days-I suppose upon
some important affair. I saw him last night, but
had no private talk with him. Stocks rise upon his
coming. As for my stay in England it cannot be
long now, so tell my friends. The parliament will
not meet till after Christmas, and by that time the
work I am doing will be over, and then nothing
shall keep me. I am very much discontented at
Parvisol, about neglecting to sell my horses, &c.
Lady Masham is not yet brought to-bed; but we
expect it daily. I dined with her to-day. Lord
Bolingbroke returned about two months ago, and
Prior about a week; and goes back (Prior I mean)
in a few days. Who told you of my snuff-box and
pocket? Did I? I had a letter to-day from Dr.
Coghill, desiring me to get Raphoe for dean Sterne,
and the deanery for myself. I shall indeed, I have
such obligations to Sterne. But however, if I am
asked who would make a good bishop, I shall name
October 11. Lord-treasurer sent for me yesterday
and the day before to sit with him, because he is not
yet quite well enough to go abroad; and I could not
finish my letter. How the deuce come I to be so
exact in your money? Just seventeen shillings and
eightpence more than due; I believe
believe you cheat me.
Ppt makes a petition with many apologies. John
Danvers, you know, is lady Giffard's friend. The
rest I never heard of. I tell you what, as things are
at present, I cannot possibly speak to lord-treasurer
for anybody. I need tell you no more. Something
or nothing will be done in my own affairs; if the
former, I will be a solicitor for your sister; if the
latter, I have done with courts for ever. Opportuni-him before anybody. Then comes another letter,
ties will often fall in my way if I am used well, and
I will then make it my business. It is my delight
to do good offices for people who want and deserve
a Dr. Henry Compton, translated to that see from the bishop-Molyneux would have had me present him too; but
ric of Oxford, in 1675.
Lady Elizabeth, married to James, the fourth Earl of Bar-
rymore.
desiring I would recommend a provost, supposing
that Pratt (who has been here about a week) will
certainly be promoted; but I believe he will not,
I presented Pratt to lord-treasurer, and truly young
I directly answered him I would not, unless he had
business with him. He is the son of one Mr. Moly-
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
255
neux of Ireland. His father wrote a book;a I sup-
pose you know it. Here is the duke of Marlborough
going out of England (lord knows why), which
causes many speculations. Some
Some say he is conscious
of guilt, and dare not stand it. Others think he has
a mind to fling an odium on the government, as who
should say that one who has done such great services
to his country cannot live quietly in it, by reason of
the malice of his enemies. I have helped to patch
up these people together once more. God knows
how long it may last. I was to-day at a trial be-
tween lord Lansdown and lord Carteret, two friends
of mine. It was in the queen's bench, for about six
thousand a-year (or nine I think). I sat under lord
chief justice Parker, and his pen falling down I
reached it up. He made me a low bow; and I
was going to whisper him that "I had done good for
evil; for he would have taken mine from me." I
told it lord-treasurer and Bolingbroke. Parker would
not have known me, if several lords on the bench,
and in the court, bowing, had not turned everybody's
eyes and set them a whispering. I owe the dog a
spite, and will pay him in two months at farthest, if
I can.
We
So much for that. But you must have chat,
and I must say every sorry thing that comes into my
head. They say the queen will stay a month longer
at Windsor. These devils of Grub-street rogues,
that write the "Flying Post" and "Medley” in
one paper, will not be quiet. They are always maul-
ing lord-treasurer, lord Bolingbroke, and me.
have the dog under prosecution, but Bolingbroke is
not active enough; but I hope to swinge him. He
is a Scotch rogue, one Ridpath. They get out upon
bail, and write on. We take them again, and get
fresh bail; so it goes round. They say some learned
Dutchman has wrote a book, proving by civil law
that we do them wrong by this peace; but I shall
show, by plain reason, that we have suffered the
wrong, and not they. I toil like a horse, and have
hundreds of letters still to read: and squeeze a line
out of each, or at least the seeds of a line. Strafford
goes back to Holland in a day or two, and I hope
our peace is very near. I have about thirty pages
more to write, (that is to be extracted), which will
be sixty in print. It is the most troublesome part
of all, and I cannot keep myself private, though I
stole into a room up two pair of stairs when I came
from Windsor; but my present man has not yet
learned his lesson of denying me discreetly.
30. The duchess of Ormond found me out to-day,
and made me dine with her. Lady Masham is still
expecting. She has had a cruel cold. I could not
finish my letter last post for the soul of me. Lord
Bolingbroke has had my papers these six weeks,
and done nothing to them. Is Tisdall yet in the
world? I propose writing controversies, to get a
name with posterity. The duke of Ormond will not
be over these three or four days. I design to make
him join with me in settling all right among our
people. I have ordered the duchess to let me have
an hour with the duke at his first coming, to give
him a true state of persons and things. I believe
the duke of Shrewsbury will hardly be declared
your governor yet; at least, I think so now; but
resolutions alter very often. Duke Hamilton gave
me a pound of snuff to-day, admirably good. I wish
DD had it, and Ppt too, if she likes it. It cost me a
quarter of an hour of his politics, which I was forced
to hear. Lady Orkney is making me a writing-
table of her own contrivance, and a bed nightgown.
She is perfectly kind, like a mother. I think the
devil was in it the other day that I should talk to
The Case of Ireland's being bound by Acts of Parliament
in England stated, 8vo. 1698.
her of an ugly squinting cousin of hers, and the
poor lady herself, you know, squints like a dragon.
The other day we had a long discourse with her
about love; and she told us a saying of her sister
Fitzharding, which I thought excellent, "that in
men, desire begets love, and in women, love begets
desire." We have abundance of our old criers still
hereabouts. I hear every morning your women
with the old satin and taffata, &c., the fellow with
old coats, suits, or cloaks. Our weather is abomin-
able of late. We have not two tolerable days in
twenty. I have lost money again at ombre with
lord Orkney and others; yet, after all, this year I
have lost but three-and-twenty shillings; so that,
considering card-money, I am no loser.
Our society hath not yet renewed their meetings.
I hope we shall continue to do some good this
winter; and lord-treasurer promises the academy
for reforming our language shall soon go forward.
I must now go hunt those dry letters for materials.
You will see something very noteable, I hope. So
much for that. God Almighty bless you!
LETTER THE FIFTY-FIFTH.
London, Nov. 15, 1712.
BEFORE this comes to your hands you will have
heard of the most terrible accident that hath almost
ever happened. This morning at eight my man
brought me word that duke Hamilton had fought
with lord Mohun, and killed him, and was brought
home wounded. I immediately sent him to the
duke's house, in St. James's-square; but the porter
could hardly answer for tears, and a great rabble
was about the house. In short, they fought at seven
this morning. The dog Mohun was killed on the
spot; and, while the duke was over him, Mohun
shortened his sword, stabbed him in at the shoulder
to the heart. The duke was helped toward the
cakehouse by the ring in Hyde-park (where they
fought), and died on the grass, before he could reach
the house; and was brought home in his coach by
eight, while the poor duchess was asleep. Macartney
and one Hamilton were the seconds, who fought
likewise, and are both fled. I am told that a foot-
man of lord Mohun's stabbed duke Hamilton, and
some say Macartney did so too. Mohun gave the
affront, and yet sent the challenge. I am infinitely
concerned for the poor duke, who was a frank,
honest, good-natured man. I loved him very well,
and I think he loved me better. He had the greatest
mind in the world to have me go with him to France,
but durst not tell it me; and those he did tell said I
could not be spared, which was true. They have
removed the poor duchess to a lodging in the neigh-
bourhood, where I have been with her two hours,
and am just come away. I never saw so melancholy
a scene; for indeed all reasons for real grief belong
to her; nor is it possible for anybody to be a greater
loser in all regards. She has moved my very soul.
The lodging was inconvenient, and they would have
removed her to another; but I would not suffer it,
because it had no room backward, and she must have
been tortured with the noise of the Grub-street scream
ers mentioning her husband's murder in her ears.
I believe you have heard the story of my escape
in opening the band-box sent to the lord-treasurer."
a The quarrel appeared to be forced on the duke, but there
are doubts, that he received foul play.
A report of a conspiracy, by sending the lord-treasurer a
box, with three pistols, whose triggers being tied to the cover,
they would have gone off, at the opening of the box, had not
the same been prevented by Swift, who, being then in the
room, while his lordship was dressing, suspected something,
and opened the box in such a manner that no mischief was
done.
256
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
The prints have told a thousand lies of it; but at
last we gave them a true account of it at length,
printed in "The Evening;" only I would not suffer
them to name me, having been so often named be-
fore, and teased to death with questions. I wonder
how I came to have so much presence of mind,
which is usually not my talent; but so it pleased
God, and I saved myself and him, for there was a
bullet-piece. A gentleman told me that if I had
been killed the Whigs would have called it a judg-
ment, because the barrels were of inkhorns, with
which I had done them so much mischief. There
was a pure Grub-street of it, full of lies and incon-
sistencies. I do not like these things at all, and I
wish myself more and more among my willows.
There is a devilish spirit among people, and the
ministry must exert themselves, or sink. Night,
dearest sirrahs, I'll go to sleep.
16. I thought to have finished this yesterday; but
was too much disturbed. I sent a letter early this
morning to lady Masham, to beg her to write some
comforting words to the poor duchess. I dined to-
day with lady Masham at Kensington, where she is
expecting these two months to lie in. She has pro-
mised me to get the queen to write to the duchess
kindly on this occasion; and to-morrow I will beg
lord-treasurer to visit and comfort her. I have been
with her two hours again, and find her worse.
Her violences not so frequent, but her melancholy
more formal and settled. She has abundance of wit
and spirit; about thirty-three years old; handsome
and airy, and seldom spared any body that gave her the
least provocation; by which she had many enemies
and few friends. Lady Orkney, her sister-in-law, is
come to town on this occasion, and has been to see
her, and behaved herself with great humanity. They
have been always very ill together, and the poor
duchess could not have patience when people told
her I went often to lady Orkney's. But I am re-
solved to make them friends; for the duchess is now
no more the object of envy, and must learn humility
from the severest master, Affliction. I design to
make the ministry put out a proclamation (if it can
be found proper) against that villain Macartney.
What shall we do with these murderers? I cannot
end this letter to-night, and there is no occasion,
for I cannot send it till Tuesday, and the coroner's
inquest on the duke's body is to be to-morrow. And
I shall know more. But what care you for all this?
Yes, MD is sorry for Pdfr's friends; and this is a
very surprising event. 'Tis late, and I'll go to bed.
This looks like journals. Night.
17. I was to-day at noon with the duchess of
Hamilton again, after I had been with lady Orkney,
and charged her to be kind to her sister in affliction.
The duchess told me lady Orkney had been with
her, and that she did not treat her as gently as she
ought. They hate one another, but I will try to
patch it up. I have been drawing up a paragraph
for the Post Boy, to be out to-morrow, and as mali-
cious as possible, and very proper for Abel Roper,
I dined at lord-treasurer's at six
the printer of it.
in the evening, which is his usual hour of returning
from Windsor: he promised to visit the duchess to-
morrow, and says he has a message to her from the
queen. 'Tis late: I have stayed till past one with
him. So night, dearest MD.
18. The committee of council is to sit this after-
noon upon the affair of duke Hamilton's murder,
and I hope a proclamation will be out against
Macartney. I was just now ('tis now noon) with
the duchess, to let her know lord-treasurer will see
her.
She is mightily indisposed. The jury have
not yet brought in their verdict upon the coroner's
|
|
|
He was a
inquest. We suspect Macartney stabbed the duke
while he was fighting. The queen and lord-trea-
surer are in great concern at this event. I dine to-
day again with lord-treasurer, but must send this
to the post-office before, because else I shall not
have time; he usually keeps me so late. Ben Tooke
bid me write to DD to send her certificate, for it is high
time it should be sent, he says. Pray make Parvisol
write to me, and send me a general account of my
affairs; and let him know I shall be over in spring,
and that by all means he sells the horses. Prior has
kissed the queen's hand, and will return to France
in a few days, and lord Strafford to Holland; and
now the king of Spain has renounced his pretensions
to France, the peace must follow very soon unavoid-
ably. You must no more call Philip duke of Anjou,
for we now acknowledge him king of Spain. Dr.
Pratt tells me you are all mad in Ireland with play-
house frolics and prologues, and I know not what.
The bishop of Clogher and his family are well: they
have heard from you lately, or you from them, I
have forgot which: I dined there the other day, but
the bishop came not till after dinner, and our meat
and drink was very so so. Mr. Vedeau was with
me yesterday, and inquired after you.
lieutenant, and is now broke, and upon half-pay.
He asked me nothing for himself, but wanted an
employment for a friend, "who would give a hand-
some pair of gloves." One Hales sent me up a
letter the other day, which said you lodged in his
house, and therefore desired I would get him a civil
employment. I would not be within, and have
directed my man to give him an answer that I never
open letters brought me by the writers, &c. I was
complaining to a lady that I wanted to mend an
employment from forty to sixty pounds a-year, in
the salt-office, and thought it hard I could not do it.
And
She told me one Mr. Griffin should do it.
afterward I met Griffin at her lodgings; and he
was, as I found, one I had been acquainted with.
I named Filby to him, and his abode somewhere
near Nantwich. He said frankly he had formerly
examined the man, and found he understood very
little of his business; but if he heard he mended he
would do what I desired. I will let it rest a while,
and then resume it; and if Ppt writes to Filby, she
may advise him to diligence, &c. I told Griffin
positively I would have it done if the man mended.
This is an account of Ppt's commission to her most
humble servant Pdfr. I have a world of writing to
finish, and little time; these toads of ministers are
so slow in their helps. This makes me sometimes
steal a week from the exactness I used to write to
MD. Farewell, dearest little MD, &c. Smoke the
folding of my letters of late.
LETTER THE FIFTY-SIXTH.
London, December 12, 1712.
HERE is now a strange thing; a letter from MD un-
answered: never was before. I am slower, and MD
is faster but the last was owing to DD's certificate.
Why could it not be sent before, pray now? Is it so
hard for DD to prove she is alive? I protest solemnly
I am not able to write to MD for other business, but
I will renew my journal method next time. I find
it is easier, though it contains nothing but where I
dine, and the occurrences of the day. I will write
now but once in three weeks till this business is off
my hands, which must be in six, I think, at farthest.
O! Ppt, I remember your reprimanding me for med-
dling in other people's affairs; I have enough of it
now, with a vengeance. Two women have been
here six times a-piece; I never saw them yet. The
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
257
first I have despatched with a letter; the other I
must see, and tell her I can do nothing for her she
is wife of one Mr. Connor, an old college acquaint-
ance, and comes on a foolish errand for some old
pretensions that will succeed when I am lord-trea-
surer. I am got up two pair of stairs, in a private
lodging, and have ordered all my friends not to dis-
cover where I am; yet every morning two or three
sets are plaguing me, and my present servant has not
yet his lesson perfect of denying me. I have written
a hundred and thirty pages in folio, to be printed,
and must write thirty more, which will make a large
book of four shillings. I wish I knew an opportu-
nity of sending you some snuff. I will watch who
goes to Ireland, and do it if possible. I had a letter
from Parvisol, and find he has set my livings very
low. Colonel Hamilton, who was second to duke
Hamilton, is tried to-day. I suppose he is come off,
but have not heard. I dined with lord-treasurer, |
but left him by nine, and visited some people. Lady
Betty, his daughter, will be married on Monday next
(as I suppose) to the marquis of Caermarthen. I
did not know your country place had been Portraine,b
till you told me so in your last. Has Swanton taken
it of Wallis? That Wallis was a grave, wise coxcomb.
God be thanked that Ppt is better of her disorders.
God keep her so. The pamphlet of "Political
Lying" is written by Dr. Arbuthnot, the author of
John Bull ; 'tis very pretty, but not so obvious to be
understood. Higgins, first chaplain to duke Hamil-
ton? Why, duke Hamilton never dreamt of a chap-
lain, nor I believe ever heard of Higgins. You are
glorious newsmongers in Ireland-Dean Francis, sir
Richard Levinge, stuff: and Pratt, more stuff. We
have lost our fine frost here; and Abel Roper tells
me you have had floods in Dublin; ho, have you?
Oh ho! Swanton seized Portraine, now I understand
you. Ay, ay, now I see Portraine at the top of your
letter. I never minded it before. Now to your
second, No. 36. So, you read one of the Grub-
streets about the band-box. The Whig papers have
abused me about the band-box. God help me, what
could I do? I fairly ventured my life. There is a
particular account of it in the Postboy" and
"Evening Post" of that day. Lord-treasurer has
had the seal sent him that sealed the box, and direc-
tions where to find the other pistol in a tree in
St. James's Park, which lord Bolingbroke's mes-
senger found accordingly; but who sent the present
is not yet known. Duke Hamilton avoided the
quarrel as much as possible according to the foppish
rules of honour in practice. What signified your
writing angry to Filby? I hope you said nothing of
hearing from me. Heigh! do you write by candle-
light? naughty, naughty, naughty dallah, a hundred
times, for doing so. O faith, DD, I'll take care of
myself! The queen is in town, and lady Masham's
month of lying-in is within two days of being out.
I was at the christening on Monday. I could not
get the child named Robin, after lord-treasurer; it
is Samuel, after the father. My brother Ormond
sent me some chocolate to-day. I wish you had
share of it: they say it is good for me, and I design
to drink some in the morning. Our society meets
next Thursday, now the queen is in town; and lord-
treasurer assures me that the society for reforming
the language shall soon be established. I have given
away ten shillings to-day to servants. What a stir
is here about your company and visits! Charming
company, no doubt; now, I keep no company, nor
have I any desire to keep any. I never go to a coffee-
house nor a tavern, nor have I touched a card since I
History of the Peace of Utrecht.
a
Or Portraen, seven miles from Dublin.
VOL. I.
left Windsor. I make few visits, nor go to levees; my
only debauch is sitting late where I dine, if I like the
company. I have almost dropped the duchesses of
Shrewsbury and Hamilton, and several others. Lord-
treasurer, the duke of Ormond, and lady Orkney, are
all that I see very often. O yes, and lady Masham and
lord Bolingbroke, and one or two private friends. I
make no figure but at court, where I affect to turr.
from a lord to the meanest of my acquaintance, and
I love to go there on Sundays to see the world.
But, to say the truth, I am growing weary of it. I
dislike a million of things in the course of public
affairs; and if I were to stay here much longer, I am
sure I should ruin myself with endeavouring to mend
them. I am every day invited into schemes of doing
this, but I cannot find any that will probably suc-
ceed. It is impossible to save people against their
own will; and I have been too much engaged in
patchwork already. Do you understand all this
stuff? No. Well then, you are now returned to
ombre and the dean, and Christmas; I wish you a
very merry one; and pray don't lose your money, nor
play upon Watt Welch's game. Night, sirrahıs, it
is late, I'll go to sleep; I don't sleep well, and
therefore never dare to drink coffee or tea after
dinner: but I am very sleepy in a morning. This
is the effect of wine and years. Night, dearest MD.
13. Morning. I am so very sleepy in the morning
that my man wakens me above ten times; and now
I can tell you no news of this day. (Here is a rest-
less dog, crying "cabbages and savoys," plagues me
every morning about this time; he is now at it. I
wish his largest cabbage were sticking in his throat).
I lodge over against the house in Little Rider-street
where DD lodged. Don't you remember, mistress?
To-night I must see the abbé Gautier, to get some
particulars for my history. It was he who was first
employed by France in the overtures of peace, and
I have not had time this month to see him; he is
but a puppy too. Lady Orkney has just sent to
invite me to dinner: she has not given me the bed
nightgown: besides, I am come very much off from
writing in bed, though I am doing it this minute;
but I stay till my fire is burnt up. My grate is very
large; two bushels of coal in a week; but I save it
in lodgings. Lord Abercorn is come to London,
and he will plague me, and I can do him no service.
The duke of Shrewsbury goes in a day or two for
France, perhaps to-day. We shall have a peace very
soon; the Dutch are almost entirely agreed, and if
they stop we shall make it without them; that has
been resolved. One squire Jones, a scoundrel in
my parish, has writ to me, to desire I would engage
Joe Beaumont to give him his interest for parliament-
man for him: pray tell Joe this; and if he designed
to vote for him already, then he may tell Jones that
I received his letter, and that I writ to Joe to do
it. If Joe be engaged for any other, then he may
do what he will: and Parvisol may say he spoke to
Joe, and Joe is engaged, &c. I received three pair of
fine thread stockings from Joe lately. Pray, thank him
when you see him; and that I say they are very fine
and good. (I never looked at them yet, but that's
no matter.) This is a fine day. I am ruined with
coaches and chairs this twelvepenny weather. I
must see my brother Ormond at eleven, and then the
duchess of Hamilton, with whom I doubt I am in
disgrace, not having seen her these ten days. I send
this to-day, and must finish it now; and perhaps
some people may come and hinder me; for it is ten
o'clock (but not shaving-day), and I must be abroad
at eleven. Abbé Gautier sends me word I cannot
see him to-night; p- take him! I don't value
anything but one letter he has of Petecum's show-
S
258
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
ing the roguery of the Dutch. Did not the "Con-
duct of the Allies" make you great politicians? Faith,
I believe you are not quite so ignorant as I thought
you. I am glad to hear you walked so much in the
country. Does DD ever read to you, young woman?
O, faith! I shall find strange doings when I come
home! Here is somebody coming that I must see
that wants a little place; the son of cousin Rooke's
eldest daughter, that died many years ago. He is
here. Farewell, dearest MD, FW, Me, Lele.
LETTER THE FIFTY-SEVENTH.
London, Dec. 18, 1712.
OUR Society was to meet to-day; but lord Harley,
who was president this week, could not attend, being
gone to Wimbledon with his new brother-in-law,
the young marquis of Caermarthen, who married
lady Betty Harley on Mondy last; and lord-trea-
surer is at Wimbledon too. However, half a dozen
of us met, and I propose our meetings should be
once a fortnight; for, between you and me, we do
no good. It cost me nineteen shillings to-day for
my club dinner; I don't like it. We have terrible
Lord Abercorn is come to
snowy slobbery weather.
town, and will see me, whether I will or not. You
know he has a pretence to a dukedom in France
[of Châtelherault], which duke Hamilton was solicit-
ing for; but Abercorn resolves to spoil their title, if
they will not allow him a fourth part; and I have
advised the duchess to compound with him, and have
made the ministry of my opinion. Night, dear sir-
rahs, MD.
19. How agreeable it is in a morning for Pdfr to
write journals again! It is as natural as mother's
milk, now I am got into it. Lord-treasurer is re-
turned from Wimbledon, ('tis not above eight miles
off,) and sent for me to dine with him at five; but
I had the grace to be abroad, and dined with some
others, with honest Ben Tooke, by invitation. The
duchess of Ormond promised me her picture, and
coming home to-night I found hers and the duke's
both in my chamber. Was not that a pretty civil
surprise? Yes, and they are in fine gilded frames
too. I am writing a letter to thank her: which I
I will send to-morrow morning. I will tell her she
is such a prude that she will not let so much as her
picture be alone in a room with a man unless the
duke's be with it; and so forth. We are full of
snow and dabbling. Lady Masham has come abroad
these three days, and seen the queen. I dined with
her the other day at her sister Hill's. I hope she
will remove in a few days to her new lodgings at St.
James's from Kensington. Night, dear rogues, MD.
20. I lodge up two pair of stairs, have but one
room, and deny myself to everybody almost, yet I
cannot be quiet; and all my mornings are lost with
people who will not take answers below stairs; such
as Dilly, and the bishop, and provost, &c. Lady
Orkney invited me to dinner to-day, which hindered
This is his
me from dining with lord-treasurer.
day that his chief friends in the ministry dine with
him. However, I went there about six, and sat
with him till past nine, when they all went off; but
he kept me back, and told me the circumstances of
lady Betty's match. The young fellow has 60,000%.
ready money, three great houses furnished, 70007.
a-year at present, and about five more after his
father and mother die. I think lady Betty's portion
is not above 80007. I remember Tisdall writ to me
in somebody's letter, or you did it for him, that I
should mention him on occasion to lord Anglesey,
with whom, he said, he had some little acquaintance.
Lord Anglesey was with me to-night at lord-trea-
surer's; and then I asked him about Tisdall, and
described him. He said he never saw him, but
See what it is to
that he had sent him his book.
be a puppy. Pray tell Mr. Walls that lord Angle-
sey thanked me for recommending Clements to him;
that he says he is 20,0007. the better for knowing
Clements. But pray don't let Clements go and
write a letter of thanks, and tell my lord that he
hears so and so, &c. Why, it is but like an Irish
understanding to do so. Sad weather; two shil-
lings in coaches to-day, and yet I am dirty. I am
now going to read over something and correct it.
So, night.
21. Puppies have got a new way of plaguing me.
I find letters directed for me at lord-treasurer's,
sometimes with enclosed ones to him, and some-
times with projects and sometimes with libels. I
usually keep them three or four days without open-
ing. I was at court to-day, as I always am on Sun-
days, instead of a coffeehouse, to see my acquaint-
ance. This day se'nnight, after I had been talking
at court with sir William Wyndham, the Spanish
ambassador came to him, and said he heard that was
Dr. Swift, and desired him to tell me that his master,
and the king of France, and the queen, were more
obliged to me than any man in Europe; so we
bowed, and shook hands, &c. I took it very well
of him. I dined with lord-treasurer, and must again
to-morrow, though I had rather not (as DD says);
but now the queen is in town he does not keep me
so late. I have not had time to see Fanny Manley
since she came; but intend it one of these days.
Her uncle, Jack Manley, I hear, cannot live a
month, which will be a great loss to her father in
Ireland, for I believe he is one of his chief supports.
Our peace now will soon be determined; for lord
Bolingbroke tells me this morning that four pro-
vinces of Holland have complied with the queen,
and we expect the rest will do so immediately.
Night, MD.
He
El-
22. Lord-keeper promised me yesterday the first
convenient living to poor Mr. Gery,a who is mar-
ried, and wants some addition to what he has.
is a very worthy creature. I had a letter some weeks
ago from Elwick, who married Betty Gery. It seems
the poor woman died some time last summer.
wick grows rich, and purchases lands. I dined with
lord-treasurer to-day, who has engaged me to come
again to-morrow. I gave lord Bolingbroke a poem
of Parnell's. I made Parnell insert some compli-
ments in it to his lordship. He is extremely pleased
with it, and' read some parts of it to-day to lord-
treasurer, who liked it as much. And indeed he
outdoes all our poets here a bar's length. Lord Bo-
lingbroke has ordered me to bring him to dinner on
Christmas-day, and I made lord-treasurer promise to
see him; and it may one day do Parnell a kindness.
You know Parnell. I believe I have told you of
that poem. Night, dear MD.
23. This morning I presented one Diaper,b a poet,
to lord Bolingbroke, with a new poem, which is a
very good one; and I am to give him a sum of
money from my lord; and I have contrived to make
a parson of him, for he is half one already, being in
deacon's orders, and serves a small cure in the
country; but has a sword at his tail here in town.
It is a poor, little, short wretch, but will do best in
a gown, and we will make lord-keeper give him a
living. Lord Bolingbroke writ to lord-treasurer to
excuse me to-day; so I dined with the former, and
Monteleon, the Spanish ambassador, who made me
many compliments. I stayed till nine, and now it
is past ten, and my man has locked me up, and I
" Mr. Gery, rector of Letcombe, in Berks, whom Swift highly
esteemed.
b Author of the Sea Eclogues.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
259
|
for I was to justify. So the rest went, and I stayed,
and it was so important, I was like to sleep over it.
I left thein at nine, and it is now twelve. Night,
MD.
27. I dined to-day with general Hill, governor of
Dunkirk. Lady Masham and Mrs. Hill, his two
sisters, were of his company, and there have I been
sitting this evening till eleven, looking over others at
have just called to mind that I shall be in disgrace
with Tom Leigh. That coxcomb had got into ac-
quaintance with one Eckershall, clerk of the kitchen
to the queen, who was civil to him at Windsor on
my account; for I had done some service to Eckers-
hall. Leigh teases me to pass an evening at his
lodgings with Eckershall. I put it off several times,
but was forced at last to promise I would come to-
night; and it never was in my head till I was lock-play; for I have left off loving play myself; and I
ed up, and I have called and called, but my man is
gone to bed; so I will write an excuse to-morrow.
I detest that Tom Leigh, and am so formal to him
as I can when I happen to meet him in the park.
The rogue frets me if he knew it. He asked me,
"Why I did not wait on the bishop of Dromore?"
[Dr. T. Pullen, 1695-1713.] I answered, "I had
not the honour to be acquainted with him, and
would not presume," &c. He takes me seriously, and
says,
"The bishop is no proud man," &c. He tells
me of a judge in Ireland that has done ill things. I
ask, "Why he is not out?" Says he, "I think the
bishops and you, and I, and the rest of the clergy,
should meet and consult about it." I beg his par-
don, and say, "I cannot be serviceable that way."
He answers, "Yes, everybody may help something."
-Don't you see how curiously he continues to vex
me? for the dog knows that with half a word I could
do more than all of them together. But he only
does it from the pride and envy of his own heart, and
not out of a humorous design of teasing. He is
one of those that would rather a service should not
be done than done by a private man, and of his own
country. You take all this, don't you? Night,
sirrahs! I will go to sleep.
24. I dined to-day with the chancellor of the ex-
chequer [Robert Benson, esq.], in order to look over
some of my papers, but nothing was done. I have
been also meditating between the Hamilton family
and lord Abercorn, to have them compound with
him; and I believe they will do it. Lord Selkirk,
the late duke's brother, is to be in town, in order to
go to France to make the demands; and the minis-
try are of opinion they will get some satisfaction,
and they empowered me to advise the Hamilton side
to agree with Abercorn, who asks a fourth part, and
will go to France and spoil all if they don't yield it.
Night, sirrahs.
25. I carried Parnell to dine at lord Bolingbroke's,
and he behaved himself very well; and lord Boling-
broke is mightily pleased with him. I was at St.
James's chapel by eight this morning; and church
and sacrament were done by ten. The queen has
got the gout in her hand, and did not come to church
to-day; and I stayed so long in my chamber that I
missed going to court. Did I tell you that the
queen designs to have a drawing-room and company
every day? Night, dear rogues.
26. I was to wish the duke of Ormond a happy
Christmas, and give half-a-crown to his porter. It
will cost me a dozen half-crowns to such fellows. I
dined with lord-treasurer, who chid me for being
absent three days. Mighty kind, with a p-! less
of civility and more of interest! We hear Macart-
ney is gone over to Ireland. Was it not comical
for a gentleman to be set upon by highwaymen, and
to tell them he was Macartney? Upon which they
brought him to a justice of peace, in hopes of a re-
ward, and the rogues were sent to gaol. Was it not
great presence of mind? But may be you heard of
this already; for there was a Grub-street of it. Lord
Bolingbroke told me I must walk away to-day when
dinner was done, because lord-treasurer, and he, and
another, were to enter upon business; but I said it
was as fit I should know their business as anybody,
think Ppt is now a great gamester. I have a great cold
on me, not quite at its height. I have them seldom,
and therefore ought to be patient. I met Mr. Ad-
dison and Pastoral Philips on the Mall to-day, and
took a turn with them; but they both looked terribly
dry and cold. A curse of party! And do you know
I have taken more pains to recommend the Whig
wits to the favour and mercy of the ministers than
any other people. Steele I have kept in his place.
Congreve I have got to be used kindly, and secured.
Rowe I have recommended, and got a promise of a
place. Philips I should certainly have provided for,
if he had not run party mad, and made me withdraw
my recommendations; and I set Addison so right at
first, that he might have been employed, and have
partly secured him the place he has; yet I am worse
used by that faction than any man. Well, go to
cards, sirrah Ppt, and dress the wine and orange,
sirrah Me,a and I'll go sleep. It is late. Night, MD.
28. My cold is so bad that I could not go to
church to-day, nor to court; but I was engaged to
lord Orkney's, with the duke of Ormond, at dinner;
and ventured, because I could cough and spit there as
I please. The duke and lord Arran left us, and I have
been sitting ever since with lord and lady Orkney
till past eleven: and my cold is worse, and makes
me giddy. I hope it is only my cold. O, says Ppt,
everybody is giddy with a cold; I hope it is no
more; but I'll go to-bed, for the fellow has bawled
past twelve. Night, dears.
29. I got out early to-day, and escaped all my
duns. I went to see lord Bolingbroke about some
business, and truly he was gone out too. I dined
in the city upon the broiled leg of a goose and a bit
of bacon with my printer. Did I tell you that I for-
bear printing what I have in hand till the court
decides something about me? I will contract no
more enemies, at least I will not embitter worse
those I have already, till I have got under shelter;
and the ministers know my resolution, so that you
may be disappointed in seeing this thing as soon as
you expected. I hear lord-treasurer is out of order.
My cold is very bad. Everybody has one. Night,
dear rogues.
30. I suppose this will be full by Saturday. Duke
of Ormond, lord Arran, and I, dined privately to-
day at an old servant's house of his. The council
made us part at six. One Mrs. Ramsay dined with
us, an old lady of about fifty-five, that we were all
very fond of. I called this evening at lord-treasurer's,
and sat with him two hours. He has been cupped
for a cold, and has been very ill. He cannot dine
with Parnell and me at lord Bolingbroke's to-mor-
row; but says he will see Parnell some other time.
I hoise up Parnell partly to spite the envious Irish
folks here, particularly Tom Leigh. I saw the
bishop of Clogher's family to-day; miss is mighty ill
of a cold, and coughs incessantly. Night, MD.
31. To-day Parnell and I dined with lord Boling-
broke, to correct Parnell's poem. I made him show
all the places he disliked; and when Parnell has
corrected it fully he shall print it. I went this even-
ing to sit with lord-treasurer. He is better, and will
be out in a day or two. I sat with him while the
a Here Me plainly means Dingley.
s 2
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
260
young folks went to supper, and then went down,
and there were the young folks merry together,
having turned lady Oxford up to my lord, and I
stayed with them till twelve. There was the young
couple, lord and lady Caermarthen, and lord and
lady Dupplin, and lord Harley and I; and the old
folks were together above. It looked like what I
have formerly done so often; stealing together from
the old folks, though indeed it was not from poor
lord-treasurer, who is as young a fellow as any of us:
but lady Oxford is a silly mere old woman. My
cold is still so bad that I have not the least smelling.
I am just got home, and 'tis past twelve; and I'll go
to bed, and settle my head, heavy as lead. Night,
MD.
January 1. A great many new years to dearest
little MD. Pray God Almighty bless you, and send
you ever happy! I forgot to tell you that yesterday
lord Abercorn was here, teasing me about his French
duchy, and suspecting my partiality to the Hamilton
family in such a whimsical manner, that Dr. Pratt,
who was by, thought he was mad. He was no sooner
gone but lord Orkney sent to know whether he might
come and sit with me half an hour upon some busi-
ness. I returned answer that I would wait on him,
which I did. We discoursed a while, and he left
me with lady Orkney; and in came the earl of Sel-
kirk, whom I had never seen before. He is another
brother of duke Hamilton, and is going to France,
by a power from his mother, the old duchess, to ne-
gotiate their pretensions to the duchy of Châtelhe-
rault. He teased me for two hours in spite of my
teeth, and held my hand when I offered to stir;
would have had me engage the ministry to favour
him against lord Abercorn, and to convince them
that lord Abercorn had no pretensions; and desired
I would also convince lord Abercorn himself so;
and concluded, he was sorry I was a greater friend
to Abercorn than Hamilton. had no patience,
and used him with some plainness. Am not I
purely handled between a couple of puppies? Ay,
says Ppt, you must be meddling in other folks'
affairs. I appeal to the bishop of Clogher whether
Abercorn did not complain that I would not let him
see me last year, and that he swore he would take
no denial from my servant when he came again.
The ministers gave me leave to tell the Hamilton
family it was their opinion that they ought to agree
with Abercorn. Lord Anglesey was then by, and
told Abercorn; upon which he gravely tells me "I
was commissioned by the ministers, and ought to per-
form my commission," &c.-But I'll have done with
them. I have warned lord-treasurer and lord Bo-
lingbroke to beware of Selkirk's teasing, pox on
him! yet Abercorn vexes me more. The whelp
owes to me all the kind receptions he has had from
the ministry. I dined to-day at lord-treasurer's with
the young folks, and sat with lord-treasurer till nine,
and then was forced to lady Masham's, and sat there
till twelve, talking of affairs, till I am out of humour,
as every one must that knows them inwardly. A
thousand things wrong, most of them easy to mend;
yet our schemes availing at best but little, and some-
times nothing at all. One evil, which I twice
patched up with the hazard of all the credit I had,
is now spread more than ever. But burn politics,
and send me from courts and ministers! Night,
dearest little MD.
2. I sauntered about this morning, and went with
Dr. Pratt to a picture auction, where I had like to
be drawn in to buy a picture that I was fond of,
but, it seems, was good for nothing. Pratt was there
to buy some pictures for the bishop of Clogher, who
resolves to lay out ten pounds to furnish his house!
with curious pieces. We dined with the bishop, I
being by chance disengaged.
being by chance disengaged. And this evening I
sate with the bishop of Ossory [Dr. J. Hartstonge],
who is laid up with the gout. The French ambas-
sador, duke d'Aumont, came to town to-night; and
the rabble conducted him home with shouts. I can-
not smell yet, though my cold begins to break. It
continues cruel hard frosty weather. Go and be
merry, little sirrahs
3. Lord Dupplin and I went with lord and lady
Orkney this morning at ten to Wimbledon, six miles
off, to see lord and lady Caermarthen. It is much
the finest place about this town. Did you never see
it? I was once there before, about five years ago.
You know lady Caermarthen is lord-treasurer's
daughter, married about three weeks ago. I hope
the young fellow will be a good husband. I must
send this away now. I came back just by nightfall,
cruel cold weather; I'll take my leave.-I forgot
how MD's accounts are. Pray let me know always
timely before MD wants; and pray give the bill on
the other side to Mrs. Brent as usual. I believe I
have not paid her this great while. Go, play at
cards. Love Pdfr. Night, MD, FW, Me, Lele.
The six odd shillings, tell Mrs. Brent, are for her
new-year's gift. I am just now told that poor dear
lady Ashburnham, the Duke of Ormond's daughter,
died yesterday at her country house. The poor
creature was with child. She was my greatest
favourite, and I am in excessive concern for her loss.
I hardly knew a more valuable person on all accounts.
You must have heard me talk of her. I am afraid
to see the duke and duchess. She was naturally
very healthy; I fear she has been thrown away for
want of care. Pray condole with me.
'Tis ex-
tremely moving. Her lord is a puppy; and I shall
never think it worth my while to be troubled with
him now he has lost all that was valuable in his
possession; yet I think he used her pretty well. I
hate life when I think it exposed to such accidents;
and to see so many thousand wretches burdening the
earth, while such as her die, makes me think God
did never intend life for a blessing. Farewell.
LETTER THE FIFTY-EIGHTH.
London, Jan. 4, 1712-13.
I ENDED my last with the melancholy news of poor
lady Ashburnham's death. The bishop of Clogher
and Dr. Pratt made me dine with them to-day at lord
Mountjoy's, pursuant to an engagement which I
had forgot. Lady Mountjoy told me that Macartney
was got safe out of our clutches, for she had spoke
with one who had a letter from him from Holland.
Others say
the same thing. As I left lord Mount-
joy's I saw the duke d'Aumont, the French ambas-
sador, going from lord Bolingbroke's, where he
dined, to have a private audience of the queen. I
followed, and went up to court, where there was a
great crowd. I was talking with the duke of Ar-
gyle by the fireside in the bedchamber, when the
ambassador came out from the queen. Argyle pre-
sented me to him and lord Bolingbroke, and we
talked together a while. He is a fine gentleman,
something like the duke of Ormond, and just such
an expensive man. After church to-day I showed
the bishop of Clogher, at court, who was who. Night,
my two dear rogues.
5. Our frost is broke, but it is bloody cold. Lord-
treasurer is recovered, and went out this evening to
the queen. I dined with lady Oxford, and then sate
with lord-treasurer till he went out. He gave me
a letter from an unknown hand, relating to Dr.
Brown, bishop of Cork, recommending him to a
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
261
were their brother or his; and I do it as gravely,
though I know they do it only because they will not
make themselves uneasy, or had rather I should be
denied than they. I believe our peace will not be
finished these two months; for I think we must
have a return from Spain by a messenger who will
not go till Sunday next. Lord-treasurer has invited
me to dine with him again to-morrow.
Your com-
missioner, Keatly, is to be there. Night, dear little
MD.
better bishopric, as a person who opposed lord | gravely to speak for them to lord-treasurer as if I
Wharton, and was made a bishop on that account,
celebrating him for a great politician, &c.: in short,
all directly contrary to his character, which I made
bold to explain. What dogs there are in the world!
I was to see the poor duke and duchess of Ormond
this morning. The duke was in his public room,
with Mr. Southwell and two more gentlemen. When
Southwell and I were alone with him he talked
something of lord Ashburnham, that he was afraid
the Whigs would get him again. He bore up as
well as he could, but something falling accidentally
in discourse, the tears were just falling out of his
eyes, and I looked off to give him an opportunity
(which he took) of wiping them with his handker-
chief. I never saw anything so moving, nor such a
mixture of greatness of mind, and tenderness, and
discretion. Night, dearest MD.
6. Lord Bolingbroke, and Parnell, and I, dined,
by invitation, with my friend Dartineuf, whom you
have heard me talk of. Lord Bolingbroke likes
Parnell mightily; and it is pleasant to see that one
who hardly passed for anything in Ireland makes
his way here with a little friendly forwarding. It is
scurvy rainy weather, and I have hardly been
abroad to-day, nor know anything that passes.-
Lord-treasurer is quite recovered, and I hope will
take care to keep himself well. The duchess of
Marlborough is leaving England to go to her duke,
and makes presents of rings to several friends, they
say worth two hundred pounds a-piece. I am sure
she ought to give me one, though the duke pretend-
ed to think me his greatest enemy, and got people
to tell me so, and very mildly to let me know how
gladly he would have me softened toward him. I
bid a lady of his acquaintance and mine let him
know "that I had hindered many a bitter thing
against him; not for his own sake, but because I
thought it looked base; and I desired everything
should be left him except power." Night, MD.
7. I dined with lord and lady Masham to-day,
and this evening played at ombre with Mrs. Van-
homrigh, merely for amusement. The ministers
have got my papers, and will neither read them nor
give them to me; and I can hardly do anything.
Very warm slabby weather, but I made a shift to
get a walk; yet I lost half of it by shaking off lord
Rochester, who is a good, civil, simple man. The
bishop of Ossory will not be bishop of Hereford, to
the great grief of himself and his wife. And what
is MD doing now, I wonder? Playing at cards
with the dean and Mrs. Walls? I think it is not
certain yet that Macartney is escaped. I am plagued
with bad authors, verse and prose, who send me
their books and poems, the vilest trash I ever saw;
but I have given their names to my man, never to
let them see me. I have got weak ink, and it is
very white, and I don't see that it turns black at
all. I'll go to sleep; it is past twelve.-Night, MD.
a
8. You must understand that I am in my geers,
and have got a chocolate-pot, a present from Mrs.
Ash, of Clogher, and some chocolate from my bro-
ther Ormond, and I treat folks sometimes. I dined
with lord-treasurer at five o'clock to-day, and was
by while he and lord Bolingbroke were at business;
for it is fit I should know all that passes now, be-
cause, &c.
The duke of Ormond employed me to
speak to lord-treasurer to-day about an affair, and I
did so; and the duke spoke himself two hours be-
fore, which vexed me, and I will chide the duke
about it. I'll tell you a good thing: there is not
one of the ministry but what will employ me as
A
Henry Hyde, son of Laurence earl of Rochester, younger
son of lord chancellor Clarendon, minister of Charles II.
9. Dr. Pratt drank chocolate with me this morn-
ing, and then we walked. I was yesterday with
him to see lady Betty Butler, grieving for her sister
Ashburnham. The jade was in bed in form, and
she did so cant, she made me sick. I meet Tom
Leigh every day in the park, to preserve his health.
He is as ruddy as a rose, and tells me his bishop of
Dromore recovers very much. That bishop has
been very near dying. To-day's "Examiner"
talks of the play of "What is it like?" and you
will think it to be mine, and be bit; for I have
no hand in these papers at all. I dined with lord-
treasurer, and shall again to-morrow, which is his
day when all the ministers dine with him. He calls
it whipping-day. It is always on Saturday, and we
do indeed usually rally him about his faults on that
day. I was of the original club, when only poor
lord Rivers, lord-keeper, and lord Bolingbroke came;
but now Ormond, Anglesey, lord-steward, Dart-
mouth, and other rabble intrude, and I scold at it;
but now they pretend as good a title as I; and, in-
deed, many Saturdays I am not there. The com-
pany being too many, I don't love it. Night, MD.
10. At seven this evening, as we sat after dinner
at lord-treasurer's, a servant said lord Peterborow
was at the door. Lord-treasurer and lord Boling-
broke went out to meet him, and brought him in.
He was just returned from abroad, where he has
been above a year. As soon as he saw me he left
the duke of Ormond and other lords, and ran and
kissed me before he spoke to them; but chid me
terribly for not writing to him, which I never did
this last time he was abroad, not knowing where he
was; and he changed places so often, it was impos-
sible a letter should overtake him. He left England
with a bruise, by his coach overturning, that made
him spit blood, and was so ill we expected every
post to hear of his death; but he outrode it, or out-
drank it, or something, and is come home lustier
than ever.
He is at least sixty, and has more spirits
than any young fellow I know of in England. He
has got the old Oxford regiment of horse, and I be-
lieve will have a garter. I love the hang-dog dearly.
Night, dear MD.
11. The court was crammed to-day to see the
French ambassador, but he did not come. Did I
never tell you that I go to court on Sundays as to a
coffeehouse, to see acquaintance whom I should not
otherwise see twice a-year? The provost and I dine
with Ned Southwell, by appointment, in order to
settle your kingdom, if my scheme can be followed;
but I doubt our ministry will be too tedious. You
must certainly have a new parliament; but they
would have that a secret yet. Our parliament here
will be prorogued for three weeks. Those puppies.
the Dutch will not yet come in, though they pretend
to submit to the queen in everything; but they
would fain try first how our session begins, in hopes
to embroil us in the house of lords: and if my ad-
vice had been taken the session should have begun,
and we would have trusted the parliament to ap-
prove the steps already made toward the peace, and
had an address perhaps from them to conclude with.
262
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
out the Dutch, if they would not agree.
of
Others are
my mind, but it is not reckoned so safe, it seems;
yet I doubt whether the peace will be ready so soon
as three weeks, but that is a secret. Night, MD.
12. Pratt and I walked into the city to one Bate-
man's, a famous bookseller, for old books. There I
laid out four pounds like a fool, and we dined at a
hedge ale-house, for two shillings and twopence,
like emperors. Let me scc, I bought Plutarch, two
volumes, for thirty shillings, &c. Well, I'll tell you
no more; you don't understand Greek. We have
no news, and I have nothing more to say to-day, and
I can't finish work. These ministers will not find
time to do what I would have them. So night, own
dear dallars.
I
13. I was to have dined to-day with lord-keeper,
but would not, because that brute sir John Walter
was to be one of the company. You may remember
he railed at me last summer was twelvemonth at
Windsor, and has never begged my pardon, though he
promised to do it; and lord Mansel, who was one of the
company, would certainly have set us together by the
cars, out of pure roguish mischief. So I dined with
lord-treasurer, where there was none but lord Boling-
broke. I stayed till eight, and then went to lady
Orkney's, who has been sick, and sat with her till
twelve. The parliament was prorogued to-day, as I
told you, for three weeks. Our weather is very bad
and slobbery, and I shall spoil my new hat (I have
bought a new hat), or empty my pockets. Does
Hawkshaw pay the interest he owes? Lord Aber-
corn plagues me to death. I have now not above
six people to provide for, and about as many to do
good offices to; and thrice as many that I will do
nothing for; nor can I if I would. Night, dear MD.
14. To-day I took the circle of morning visits.
went to the duchess of Ormond, and there was she,
and lady Betty, and lord Ashburnham together:
this was the first time the mother and daughter saw
each other since lady Ashburnham's death. They
were both in tears, and I chid them for being toge-
ther, and made lady Betty go to her own chamber;
then sat a while with the duchess, and went after
lady Betty, and all was well. There is something
of farce in all these mournings, let them be ever so
serious. People will pretend to grieve more than
they really do, and that takes off from their true
grief. I then went to the duchess of Hamilton, who
never grieved, but raged, and stormed, and railed.
She is pretty quiet now, but has a diabolical temper.
Lord-keeper and his son, and their two ladies, and
I dined to-day with Mr. Cæsar, treasurer of the navy,
at his house in the city, where he keeps his office.
We happened to talk of Brutus, and I said something
in his praise, when it struck me immediately that I
had made a blunder in doing so; and, therefore, I
recollected myself, and said, "Mr. Casar, I beg your
pardon." So we laughed, &c. Night, my own
dearest little rogues, MD.
15. I forgot to tell you that last night I had a
present sent me (I found it, when I came home, in
my chamber) of the finest wild fowl I ever saw, with
the vilest letter, and from the vilest poet, in the
world, who sent it me as a bribe to get him an em-
ployment. I knew not where the scoundrel lived,
so I could not send them back; and therefore I
gave them away as freely as I got them, and have
ordered my man never to let up the poet when he
comes. The rogue should have kept the wings at
least for his muse. One of his fowls was a large
capon pheasant, as fat as a pullet. I ate share of it
to-day with a friend. We have now a drawing-room
every Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at one
o'clock. The queen does not come out; but all her
ministers, foreigners, and persons of quality are at
it. I was there to-day; and as lord-treasurer came
toward me I avoided him, and he hunted me thrice
about the room. I affect never to take notice of
him at church or court. He knows it, for I have
told him so; and to-night, at lord Masham's, he
gave an account of it to the company; but my reasons
are, that people seeing me speak to him causes a great
deal of teasing. I tell you what comes into my head,
that I never knew whether you were Whigs or
Tories, and I value our conversation the more that
it never turned on that subject. I have a fancy that
Ppt is a Tory and a rigid one. I don't know why;
but methinks she looks like one, and DD a sort of a
trimmer. Am I right? I gave the Examiner a hint
about this prorogation, and to praise the queen for
her tenderness to the Dutch in giving them still more
time to submit. It fitted the occasions at present.
Night, MD.
I came
16. I was busy to-day at the secretary's office, and
stayed till past three. The duke of Ormond and I
were to dine at lord Orkney's. The duke was at
the committee, so I thought all was safe. When I
went there they had almost dined; for the duke had
sent to excuse himself, which I never knew.
home at seven, and began a little whim, which just
came into my head, and will make a threepenny
pamphlet. It shall be finished and out in a week;
and if it succeed, you shall know what it is; other-
wise, not. I cannot send this to-morrow, and will
put it off till next Saturday, because I have much
business. So my journals shall be short, and Ppt
must have patience.
17. This rogue Parnell has not yet corrected his
poem, and I would fain have it out. I dined to-day
with lord-treasurer and his Saturday's company, nine
of us in all.
of us in all. They went away at seven, and lord-
treasurer and I sat talking an hour after. After
dinner he was talking to the lords about the speech
the queen must make when the parliament meets.
He asked me how I would make it? I was going
to be serious, because it was seriously put; but I
turned it to a jest. And because they had been
speaking of the duchess of Marlborough going to
Flanders after the duke, I said, the speech should
begin thus :-" "My lords and gentlemen, In order to
my own quiet, and that of my subjects, I have thought
fit to send the duchess of Marlborough abroad after
the duke." This took well, and turned off the dis-
course. I must tell you I do not at all like the present
situation of affairs, and remember I tell you so.
Things must be on another foot, or we are all undone.
I hate this driving always to an inch. Night, MD).
18. We had a mighty full court to-day. Dilly
was with me at the French church, and edified
mightily. Duke of Ormond and I dined at lord
Orkney's; but I left them at seven, and came home
to my whim. I have made a great progress. My
large Treatise stands stock still. Some think it too
dangerous to publish, and would have me print only
what relates to the peace. I cannot tell what I shall
do. The bishop of Dromore is dying. They thought
yesterday he could not live two hours; yet he is
still alive, but is utterly past all hopes. Go to cards.
Night, dear MD.
19. I was this morning to see the duke and
duchess of Ormond. The duke d'Aumont came in
while I was with the duke of Ormond, and we com-
plimented each other like dragons. A poor fellow
called at the door where I lodge, with a parcel of
oranges for a present for me. I bid my man learn
what his name was, and whence it came.
He sent
word his name was Bun, and that I knew him very
His History of the Peace of Utrecht.
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
263
well. I bid my man tell him I was busy, and he
could not speak to me; and not to let him leave his
oranges. I know no more of it, but I am sure I
never heard the name, and I shall take no such pre-
sents from strangers. Perhaps he might be only
some beggar, who wanted a little money. Perhaps
it might be something worse. Let them keep their
poison for their rats. I don't love it. That blot is
a blunder. Night, dear MD.
20. A committee of our society dined to-day with
the chancellor of the exchequer. Our society does
not meet now as usual, for which I am blamed; but
till lord-treasurer will agree to give us money and
employments to bestow, I am averse to it; and he
gives us nothing but promises. Bishop of Dromore
is still alive, and that is all. We expect every day
he will die, and then Tom Leigh must go back,
which is one good thing to the town. I believe
Pratt will drive at one of these bishoprics. Our
English bishoprica is not yet disposed of. I believe
the peace will not be ready by the session.
21. I was to-day with my printer, to give him a
little pamphlet I had written, but not politics. It
will be out by Monday. If it succeeds, I will tell
you of it; otherwise not. We had a prodigious
thaw to-day, as bad as rain; yet I walked like a
good boy all the way. The bishop of Dromore still
draws breath, but cannot live two days longer. My
large book lies flat. Some people think a great part
of it ought not to be now printed. I believe I told
you so before. This letter shall not go till Saturday,
which makes up the three weeks exactly, and I allow
MD six weeks, which are now almost out; so you
must know I expect a letter very soon, and that MD
well; and so night, dear MD.
is
very
22. This is one of our court-days, and I was there.
I told you there is a drawing-room Wednesday,
Thursday, and Saturday.
The Hamiltons and
Abercorns have done teasing me. The latter, I
hear, is actually going to France. Lord-treasurer
quarrelled with me at court for being four days
without dining with him; so I dined there to-day,
and he has at last fallen in with my project (as he
calls it) of coining halfpence and farthings, with
devices, like medals, in honour of the queen, every
year changing the device. I wish it may be done.
Night, MD.
23. Duke of Ormond and I appointed to dine with
Ned Southwell to-day, to talk of settling your affairs
of parliament in Ireland, but there was a mixture of
company, and the duke of Ormond was in haste,
and nothing was done. If your parliament meets
this summer it must be a new one; but I find some
are of opinion there should be none at all these two
years. I will trouble myself no more about it. My
design was to serve the duke of Ormond. Dr. Pratt
and I sat this evening with the bishop of Clogher,
and played at ombre for threepence. That I sup-
pose is but low with you. I found, at coming home,
a letter from MD, No. 37. I shall not answer it
this bout, but will the next. I am sorry for poor
Ppt. Pray walk if you can. I have got a terrible
new cold before my old one was quite gone, and
don't know how. I shall have DD's money soon
from the exchequer. The bishop of Dromore is dead
now at last. Night, dear MD.
24. I was at court to-day, and it was comical to
see lord Abercorn bowing to me, but not speaking,
and lord Selkirk the same. I dined with lord-trea-
surer and his Saturday club, and sat with him two
hours after the rest were gone, and spoke freer to
him of affairs than I am afraid others do who might
↑ Hereford, vacant by the death of Dr. H. Humphreys, 20th
November, 1712.
do more good. All his friends repine, and shrug
their shoulders, but will not deal with him so freely
as they ought. It is an odd business; the parliament
just going to sit, and no employments given. They
say they will give them in a few days. There is a
new bishop made of Hereford; so Ossory is disap-
pointed. I hinted so to his friends two months ago,
to make him leave off deluding himself, and being
indiscreet, as he was. I have just time to send this
without giving it to the bellman. My second cold
is better now. Night, dearest little MD, FW, Me,
Lele.
LETTER THE FIFTY-NINTH.
London, Sunday, Jan. 25, 1712-13.
WE had such a terrible storm to-day, that, going to
lord Bolingbroke's, I saw a hundred tiles fallen
down; and one swinger fell about forty yards before
me, that would have killed a horse: so, after church
and court, I walked through the park, and took a
chair to lord-treasurer's. Next door to his house a
tin chimney-top had fallen down with a hundred
bricks. It is grown calm this evening. I wonder
had you such a wind to-day ?
such a wind to-day? I hate it as much as
any hog does. Lord-treasurer has engaged me to
dine again with him to-morrow. He has those
tricks sometimes of inviting me from day to day,
which I am forced to break through. My little
pamphlet is out: 'tis not politics. If it takes, I say
again you shall hear of it.
26. This morning I felt a little touch of giddiness,
which has disordered and weakened me with its
ugly remains all this day. After dinner at lord-
treasurer's, the French ambassador, duke d’Aumont,
sent lord-treasurer word that his house was burnt
down to the ground. It took fire in the upper
rooms, while he was at dinner with Monteleon, the
Spanish ambassador, and other persons; and soon
after lord Bolingbroke came to us with the same
story. We are full of speculations upon it, but I
believe it was the carelessness of his French rascally
servants. It is odd that this very day lord Somers,
Wharton, Sunderland, Halifax, and the whole club
of Whig lords, dined at Pontac's in the city, as I re-
ceived private notice. They have some damned
design. I tell you another odd thing: I was ob-
serving it to lord-treasurer that he was stabbed on
the day king William died; and the day I saved his
life by opening the hand-box was king William's
birth-day. My friend Mr. Lewis [secretary to the
earl of Dartmouth] has had a lie spread on him by
the mistake of a man who went to another of his
name to give him thanks for passing his privy seal
to come from France. That other Lewis spread
about that the man brought him thanks from lord
Perth and lord Melfort (two lords with the pre-
tender), for his great services, &c. The lords will
examine that other Lewis to-morrow in council;
and I believe you will hear of it in the prints, for I
will make Abel Roper give a relation of it.
tell me if it be necessary to write a little plainer, for
I looked over a bit of my last letter, and could
hardly read it. I'll mend my hand, if you please;
but you are more used to it nor I," as Mr. Ray-
mond says. Night, MD.
"
Pray
I
27. I dined to-day with lord-treasurer: this
makes four days together; and he has invited me
again to-morrow, but I absolutely refused him.
was this evening at a christening with him of lord
Dupplin's daughter. He went away at ten; but
they kept me and some others till past twelve; so
you may be sure 'tis late, as they say. We have
now stronger suspicions that the duke d'Aumont's
264
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
house was set on fire by malice. I was to-day to
see lord-keeper, who has quite lost his voice with a
cold. There Dr. Radcliffe told me that it was the
ambassador's confectioner set the house on fire by
boiling sugar, and going down and letting it boil
over. Yet others still think differently; so I know
not what to judge. Night, my own dearest MD.
•
28. I was to-day at court, where the ambassador
talked to me as if he did not suspect any design in
burning d'Aumont's house; but the abbé Gautier,
secretary for France here, said quite otherwise; and
that d'Aumont had a letter the very same day to let
him know his house should be burnt, and tells
several other circumstances too tedious to write.
One is, that a fellow mending the tiles just when
the fire broke out saw a pot with wildfire in the
room. I dined with lord Orkney. Neither lord
Abercorn nor Selkirk will now speak with me. I
have disobliged both sides. Night, dear MD.
29. Our society met to-day, fourteen of us, and at
a tavern. We now resolve to meet but once a fort-
night, and have a committee every other week of
six or seven, to consult about doing some good. I
proposed another message to lord-treasurer by three
principal members, to give a hundred guineas to a❘
certain person, and they are to urge it as well as
they can. We also raised sixty guineas upon our
own society; but I made them do it by assessors,
and I was one of them, and we fitted our tax to the
several estates. The duke of Ormond pays ten
guineas, and I the third part of a guinea; at that
rate they may tax as often as they please. Well,
but I must answer your letter, young women: not
yet; it is late now, and I can't find it. Night,
dearest MD.
30. I have drank Spa waters these two or three
days; but they do not pass, and make me very
giddy. I am not well; faith, I will take them no
more. I sauntered after church with the provost
to-day, to see a library to be sold, and dined at five
with lord Orkney. We still think there was malice
in burning d'Aumont's house. I hear little Harrison
is come over; it was he I sent to Utrecht. He is
now queen's secretary to the embassy, and has
brought with him the Barrier Treaty, as it is now
corrected by us, and yielded to by the Dutch, which
was the greatest difficulty to retard the peace.
hope he will bring over the peace a month hence,
for we will send him back as soon as possible. I
long to see the little brat, my own creature.
His
pay is in all a thousand pounds a-year, and they
have never paid him a groat, though I have teased
He must be three or four hundred
pounds in debt at least. Poor brat! Let me go to
bed, sirrahs. Night, dear MD.
their hearts out.
I
31. Harrison was with me this morning; we
talked three hours, and then I carried him to court.
When we went down to the door of my lodging I
found a coach waited for him. I chid him for it,
but he whispered me it was impossible to do other-
wise; and in the coach he told me he had not one
farthing in his pocket to pay it; and therefore took
the coach for the whole day, and intended to borrow
money somewhere or other. So there was the
queen's minister intrusted in affairs of the greatest
importance, without a shilling in his pocket to pay a
coach! I paid him while he was with me seven
guineas, in part of a dozen of shirts he bought me in
Holland. I presented him to the duke of Ormond
and several lords at court; and I contrived it so
that lord-treasurer came to me and asked (I had
Parnell by me) whether that was Dr. Parnell, and
came up and spoke to him with great kindness, and
invited him to his house. I value myself upon
making the ministry desire to be acquainted with
|
Parnell, and not Parnell with the ministry. His
poem is almost fully corrected, and shall be soon
out. Here is enough for to-day: only to tell you
that I was in the city with my printer to alter an
Examiner about
Examiner about my friend Lewis's story, which will
be told with remarks.
|
Sunday, February 1. I could do nothing till to-
day about the Examiner, but the printer came this
morning, and I dictated to him what was fit to be
said, and then Mr. Lewis came and corrected it as
he would have it; so I was neither at church nor
court. The duke of Ormond and I dined at lord
Orkney's. I left them at seven, and sat with sir
Andrew Fountaine, who has a very bad sore leg,
Here is a
for which he designs to go to France. Here
week gone, and one side of this letter not finished.
O, but I will write now but once in three weeks.
Yes, faith, this shall go sooner. The parliament is
to sit on the third, but will adjourn for three or four
days, for the queen is laid up with the gout, and
both speakers out of order, though one of them, the
lord-keeper, is almost well. I spoke to the duke of
We do not
Ormond a good deal about Ireland.
altogether agree, nor am I judge enough of Irish
affairs; but I will speak to lord-treasurer to-morrow,
that we three may settle some way or other.
2. I had a letter some days ago from Moll Gery;
her name is now Wigmore, and her husband is turned
parson. She desires nothing but that I would get
lord-keeper to give him a living; but I will send her
no answer, though she desires it much. She still
makes mantuas at Farnham. It rained all this day,
and Dilly came to me, and was coaching it into the
city; so I went with him for a shaking, because
There I met
it would not cost me a farthing.
my friend Stratford, the merchant, who is going
abroad to gather up his debts, and be clear in the
world. He begged that I would dine with some
merchant friends of ours there, because it was the last
time I should see him: so I did, and thought to have
seen lord-treasurer in the evening, but he happened
to go out at five; so I visited some friends and came
home. And now I have the greatest part of your
letter to answer; and yet I will not do it to-night,
say what you please. The parliament meets to-
morrow, but will be prorogued for a fortnight; which
disappointment will, I believe, vex abundance of
them, though they are not Whigs; for they are forced
to be in town at expense for nothing: but we want
an answer from Spain before we are sure of every-
thing being right for the peace; and God knows
whether we can have that answer this month.
a most ticklish juncture of affairs; we are always
driving to an inch: I am weary of it. Night, MD.
It is
3. The parliament met, and was prorogued, as I
said, and I found some cloudy faces, and heard some
grumbling.
grumbling. We have got over all our difficulties
with France, I think.
with France, I think. They have now settled all the
articles of commerce between us and them, wherein
they were very much disposed to play the rogue if
we had not held them to; and this business we wait
for from Spain is to prevent some other rogueries of
the French, who are finding an evasion to trade to
the Spanish West Indies: but I hope we shall prevent
it. I dined with lord-treasurer, and he was in good
1
humour enough. I gave him that part of my book
in manuscript to read where his character was, and
drawn pretty freely. He was reading and correcting
it with his pencil, when the bishop of St David's
[Dr. P. Blisc] (now removing to Hereford) came
and interrupted us. I left him at eight, and sat till
twelve with the provost and bishop of Clogher.
[Wednesday] 4. I was to-day at court, but kept
}
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
265
out of lord-treasurer's way, because I was engaged
to the duke of Ormond, where I dined, and, I think,
ate and drank too much. I sat this evening with
lady Masham, and then with lord Masham and lord-
treasurer at lord Masham's. It was last year, you
may remember, my constant evening place. I saw
lady Jersey with lady Masham, who has been laying
out for my acquaintance, and has forced a promise
from me to drink chocolate with her in a day or two,
which I know not whether I shall perform (I have
just mended my pen you see), for I do not much
like her character; but she is very malicious, and
therefore I think I must keep fair with her.
I can-
not send this letter till Saturday next, I find; so I
I see no different days of
will answer yours now.
the month; yet it is dated January 3. So it was
long a coming. I did not write to Dr. Coghill that
I would have nothing in Ireland; but that I was
soliciting nothing anywhere, and that is true.
have named Dr. Sterne to lord-treasurer, lord Boling-
broke, and the duke of Ormond, for a bishopric, and
I did it heartily. I know not what will come of it;
but I tell you as a great secret that I have made the
duke of Ormond promise me to recommend nobody
till he tells me, and this for some reasons too long to
mention. My head is still in no good order. I am
heartily sorry for Ppt. I am sure her head is good
for ****
I'll answer more to-morrow. Night,
dearest MD.
5 [6]. I must go on with your letter. I dined
to-day with sir Andrew Fountaine and the provost,
and played at ombre with him all the afternoon. I
won, yet sir Andrew is an admirable player. Lord
Pembroke came in, and I gave him three or four
scurvy Dilly puns, that begin with an if. Well, but
your letter, well, let me sec.-No; I believe I shall
write no more this good while, nor publish what I
have done. **** I did not suspect you would tell
Filby. You are so
Turns and visitations-
*****.
what are those? I'll preach and visit as much for
Mr. Walls. Pray God mend people's health; mine
is but very indifferent. I have left off Spa water;
it makes my legs swell. Night, dearest MD.
6 [7]. This is the queen's birthday, and I never
saw it celebrated with so much hurry and fine
clothes. I went to court to see them, and I dined
with lord-keeper, where the ladies were fine to ad-
miration. I passed the evening at Mrs. Vanhom-
righ's, and came home pretty early to answer your
letter again. Pray God keep the queen. She was
very ill about ten days ago, and had the gout in her
stomach. When I came from lord-keeper's I called
at lord-treasurer's, because I heard he was very fine,
and that was a new thing; and it was true, for his
coat and waistcoat were embroidered. I have seen
the provost often since, and never spoke to him to
speak to the Temples about Daniel Carr, nor will;
I don't care to do it. I have writ lately to Parvisol.
You did well to let him make up his accompts. All
things grow dear in Ireland, but corn to the parsons;
for my livings are fallen much this year by Parvisol's
account. Night, dearest rogues, MD.
I
7 [8]. I was at court to-day, but saw no birth-
day clothes; the great folks never wear them above
once or twice. I dined with lord Orkney and sat
the evening with sir Andrew Fountaine, whose leg
is in a very dubious condition. Pray let me know
when DD's money is near due: always let me know
it beforehand. This, I believe, will hardly go till
Saturday; for I tell you what, being not very well,
I dare not study much: so I let company come in a
morning, and the afternoon pass in dining and sitting
somewhere. Lord-treasurer is angry if I don't dine
with him every second day, and I cannot part with
him till late: he kept me last night till near twelve.
Our weather is constant rain above these two months,
which hinders walking, so that our spring is not like
yours. I have not seen Fanny Manley yet; I can-
not find time. I am in rebellion with all my ac
quaintance, but I will mend with my health and the
weather. Clogher make a figure! Clogher make a
Colds! why we have been all dying with
colds; but now they are a little off, and my second
I can do nothing for Swanton. In-
is almost off.
deed it is a thing impossible, and wholly out of my
way. If he buys, he must buy. So now I have
answered your letter; and there's an end of that
now; and I'll say no more, but bid you night, dear
MD.
8 [9]. It was terribly rainy to-day from morning
till night. I intended to have dined with lord-
treasurer, but went to see sir Andrew Fountaine,
and he kept me to dinner, which saved coach-hire,
and I stayed with him all the afternoon, and lost
thirteen shillings and sixpence at ombre. There was
management! and lord-treasurer will chide; but I'll
dine with him to-morrow. The bishop of Clogher's
daughter has been ill some days, and it proves the
small-pox. She is very full, but it comes out well,
and they apprehend no danger. Lady Orkney has
given me her picture, a very fine original of sir
Godfrey Kneller's; it is now a mending. He has
favoured her squint admirably; and you know I
love a cast in the eye. I was to.see lady Worsley
to-day, who is just come to town; she is full of rheu-
matic pains. All my acquaintance grow old and
sickly. She lodges in the very house in King-street,
between St. James's-street and St. James's-square,
where DD's brother bought the sweetbread when
I lodged there and DD came to
Short
****
Night, MD.
see me.
9 [10]. I thought to have dined with lord-trea-
surer to-day, but he dined abroad at Tom Harley's,
so I dined at lord Masham's, and was winning all I
had lost playing with lady Masham at crown piquet,
when we went to pools, and I lost it again. Lord-
treasurer came in to us and chid me for not following
him to Tom Harley's. Miss Ashe is still the same,
and they think her not in danger; my man calls
the redaily after I am gone out, and tells me at night.
I was this morning to see lady Jersey, and we have
made twenty parties about dining together, and I
shall hardly keep one of them. She is reduced, after
all her greatness, to seven servants and a small house,
and no coach. I like her tolerably as yet. Night,
MD.
10 [11]. I made visits this morning to the duke
and duchess of Ormond, and lady Betty, and the
duchess of Hamilton. (When I was writing this
near twelve o'clock the duchess of Hamilton sent to
have me dine with her to-morrow. I am forced
to give my answer through the door, for my man has
got the key and is gone to bed, but I cannot obey
her, for our society meets to-morrow.) I stole away
from lord-treasurer by eight, and intended to have
passed the evening with sir Thomas Clarges and his
lady, but met them in another place, and have there
sate till now. My head has not been ill to-day. I
was at court, and made lord Mansel walk with me
in the Park before we went to dinner.-Yesterday
and to-day have been fair, but yet it rained all last
night. I saw Sterne staring at court to-day. He
has been often to see me, he says, but my man has
not yet let him up. He is in deep mourning; I
hope it is not for his wife. I did not ask him.
Night, MD.
12. I have reckoned days wrong all this while,ª
a Ho had omitted Thursday the fifth.
266
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
for this is the twelfth. I do not know when I lost
it. I dined to-day with our society, the greatest
dinner I have ever seen. It was at Jack Hill's, the
governor of Dunkirk. I gave an account of sixty
guineas I had collected, and am to give them away
to two authors to-morrow, and lord-treasurer has
promised me a hundred pounds to reward some
others. I found a letter on my table last night to tell
me that poor little Harrison, the queen's secretary,
that came lately from Utrecht with the Barrier
Treaty, was ill, and desired to see me at night, but
it was late, and I could not go till to-day. I have
often mentioned him in my letters you may re-
member. **** I went in the morning and found
him mighty ill, and got thirty guineas for him from
lord Bolingbroke, and an order for a hundred pounds
from the treasury, to be paid him to-morrow, and I
have got him removed to Knightsbridge for the air.
He has a fever and inflammation on his lungs, but I
hope will do well. Night, MD.
13. I was to see a poor poet, one Mr. Diaper, in
a nasty garret very sick. I gave him twenty gui-
neas from lord Bolingbroke, and disposed the other
sixty to two other authors, and desired a friend to
receive the hundred pounds for poor Harrison, and
will carry it to him to-morrow morning. I sent to
see how he did, and he is extremely ill; and I am
much afflicted for him, as he is my own crea-
very
ture, and in a very honourable post, and very worthy
very worthy
of it. I dined in the city. I am much concerned
for this poor lad. His mother and sister attend
him, and he wants nothing. Night, dear MD.
14. I took Parnell this morning, and we walked
to see poor Harrison. I had the hundred pounds in
my pocket. I told Parnell I was afraid to knock at
the door; my mind misgave me. I knocked, and
his man in tears told me his master was dead an hour
before. Think what grief this is to me! I went to
his mother, and have been ordering things for his
funeral, with as little cost as possible, to-morrow at
ten at night. Lord-treasurer was much concerned
when I told him. I could not dine with lord-
treasurer, nor anywhere else; but got a bit of meat
toward evening. No loss ever grieved me so much :
poor creature! Pray God Almighty bless poor MD.
Adieu. I send this away to-night, and am sorry it
must go while I am in so much grief.
LETTER THE SIXTIETH.
London, Feb. 15, 1712-13.
I DINED to-day with Mr. Rowe, and a projector, who
has been teasing me with twenty schemes to get
grants; and I don't like one of them; and, besides,
I was out of humour for the loss of poor Harrison.
At ten this night I was at his funeral, which I or-
dered to be as private as possible. We had but one
coach with four of us; and when it was carrying us
home after the funeral, the braces broke; and we
were forced to sit in it, and have it held up, till my
man went for chairs, at eleven at night in terrible
rain. I am come home very melancholy, and will
go to bed. Night, dearest MD.
16. I dined to-day with lord Dupplin and some
company to divert me; but left them early, and have
been reading a book for amusement. I shall never
have courage again to care for making anybody's
fortune. The parliament meets to-morrow, and will
be prorogued another fortnight, at which several of
both parties were angry; but it cannot be helped,
though everything about the peace is past all danger.
I never saw such a continuance of rainy weather.
We have not had two fair days together these ten
weeks I have not dined with lord-treasurer these
four days, nor can I till Saturday; for I have several
engagements till then, and he will chide me to some
purpose. I am perplexed with this hundred pounds
of poor Harrison's, what to do with it. I cannot
pay his relations till they administer, for he is much
in debt; but I will have the staff in my own hands,
and venture nothing. Night, dear MD.
17. Lady Jersey and I dined by appointment to-
day with lord Bolingbroke. He is sending his
brother to succeed Mr. Harrison. It is the prettiest
post in Europe for a young gentleman. I lost my
money at ombre sadly; I make a thousand blunders
at it. I play but threepenny ombre; but it is what
you call running ombre. Lady Clarges, and a drab
I hate, won a dozen shillings of me last night. The
parliament was prorogued to-day; and people
grumble; and the good of it is, the peace cannot be
finished by the time they meet, there are so many
fiddling things to do. Is Ppt an ombre lady yet?
You know all the tricks of it now, I suppose. I
reckon you have all your cards from France, for ours
pay sixpence a pack taxes, which goes deep to the
box. I have given away all my Spa water, and take
some nasty steel drops, and my head has been better
this week past. I send every day to see how Miss
Ashe does: she is very full, they say, but in no
danger. I fear she will lose some of her beauty.
The son lies out of the house. I wish he had them
too, while he is so young.-Night MD.
18. The earl of Abingdon had been teasing me
these three months to dine with him; and this day
was appointed about a week ago, and I named my
company; lord Stawell, colonel Disney, and Dr.
Arbuthnot; but the two last slipped out their necks,
and left Stawell and me to dine there. We did not
dine till seven, because it is Ash Wednesday. We
had nothing but fish, which lord Stawell could not
eat, and got a broiled leg of a turkey. Our wine
was poison; yet the puppy has twelve thousand
pounds a-year.
pounds a-year. His carps were raw, and his can-
dles tallow. He shall not catch me in haste again,
and everybody has laughed at me for dining with
him. I was to-day to let Harrison's mother know
I could not pay till she administers; which she will
do. I believe she is an old devil, and her daughter
There were more Whigs to-day at court
than Tories. I believe they think the peace must
be made, and so come to please the queen. She is
still lame with the gout.
a
19. I was at court to-day, to speak to lord Boling-
broke to look over Parnell's poem since it is cor-
rected; and Parnell and I dined with him, and he
has shown him three or four more places to alter a
little. Lady Bolingbroke came down to us while we
were at dinner, and Parnell stared at her as if she
were a goddess. I thought she was like Parnell's
wife, and he thought so too. Parnell is much pleased
with lord Bolingbroke's favour to him, and I hope it
may one day turn to his advantage. His poem will
be printed in a few days. Our weather continues as
fresh raining as if it had not rained at all. I sat to-
night at lady Masham's, where lord-treasurer came
and scolded me for not dining with him. I told him
I could not till Saturday. I have stayed there till
past twelve; so night, dear MD.
20. Lady Jersey, lady Catherine Hyde, the Spa-
nish ambassador, the duke d'Etrées, another Spa-
niard, and I, dined to-day by appointment with lord
Bolingbroke: but they fell a drinking so many Spa-
nish healths in champagne, that I stole away to the
ladies, and drank tea till eight, and then went and
lost my money at ombre with sir Andrew Fountainc,
who has a very bad leg. Miss Ashe is past all
danger; and her eye which was lately bad, (I sup-
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
267
pose one effect of her distemper,) is now better. I
do not let the bishop see me, nor shall this good
while. Good-lack! when I came home, I warrant,
I found a letter from MD, No. 38; and you write so
small now-a-days. I hope your poor eyes are better.
Well, this shall go to-morrow se'ennight, with a bill
for Me. I will speak to Mr. Griffin to-morrow,
about Ppt's brother Filby, and desire, whether he
deserves or no, that his employment may be mended,
that is to say, if I see Griffin; otherwise not; and
I'll answer MD's letter when I Pdfr think fit.
Night, MD.
21. Methinks I writ a little saucy last night. I
mean the last. I saw Griffin at court. He says he
knows nothing of a salt-work at Recton; but that he
will give Filby a better employment, and desires
Filby will write to him. If I knew where to write to
Filby, I would; but pray do you. Bid him make
no mention of you; but only let Mr. Griffin know
"that he has had the honour to be recommended by
Dr. Swift, &c.; that he will endeavour to de-
serve, &c. ;" and if you dictated a whole letter
for him it would be better; I hope he can write
and spell well. I'll inquire for a direction to Griffin
before I finish this. I dined with lord-treasurer and
seven lords to-day. You know Saturday is his
great day. I sat with them till eight, and then
came home, and have been writing a letter to Mrs.
Davis, at York. She took care to have a letter de-
livered for me at lord-treasurer's; for I would not
own one she sent by post. She reproaches me for
not writing to her these four years; and I have
honestly told her it was my way never to write to
those whom I am never likely to see, unless I can
serve them, which I cannot her, &c. Davis the
schoolmaster's widow. Night, MD.
22. I dined to-day at lord Orkney's, with the
duke of Ormond and sir Thomas Hanmer. Have
you ever heard of the latter? He married the
duchess of Grafton in his youth (she dined with us
too). He is the most considerable man in the
house of commons. He went last spring to Flan-
ders, with the duke of Ormond; from thence to
France, and was going to Italy; but the ministry
sent for him, and he has been come over about ten
days. He is much out of humour with things: he
thinks the peace is kept off too long; and is full of
fears and doubts. It is thought he is designed for
secretary of state, instead of lord Dartmouth. We
have been acquainted these two years; and I intend,
in a day or two, to have an hour's talk with him on
affairs. I saw the bishop of Clogher at court; miss
is recovering. I know not how much she will be
marked. The
The queen is slowly mending of her gout,
and intends to be brought in a chair to parliament
when it meets, which will be March 3; for I sup-
pose they will prorogue no more; yet the peace will
not be signed then, and we apprehend the Tories
themselves will many of them be discontented.
Night, dear MD.
23. It was ill weather to-day, and I dined with
sir Andrew Fountaine, and in the evening played at
ombre with him and the provost, and won twenty-
five shillings; so I have recovered myself pretty
well. Dilly has been dunning me to see Fanny
Manley; but I have not yet been able to do it.
Miss Ashe is now quite out of danger; and they
hope will not be much marked. I cannot tell how
to direct to Griffin; and think he lives in Bury-
street, near St. James's-street, hard by me; but I
suppose your brother may direct to him to the salt-
office, and, as I remember, he knows his christian
name, because he sent it me in the list of the com-
missioners. Night, dear MD.
24. I walked this morning to Chelsea, to see Dr
Atterbury, dean of Christchurch. I had business
with him about entering Mr. Fitz-Maurice, lord
Kerry's son, into his college; and lady Kerry is a
great favourite of mine. Lord Harley, lord Dup-
plin, young Bromley the speaker's son, and ï, dined
with Dr. Stratford and some other clergymen ; but I
left them at seven, to go to lady Jersey, to see Mon-
teleon the Spanish ambassador play at ombre.
Lady Jersey was abroad, and I chid the servants
and made a rattle; but since I came home she sent
me a message that I was mistaken, and that the
I have a worse
meeting is to be to-morrow.
memory than when I left you, and every day forget
appointments; but here my memory was by chance
too good. But I'll go to-morrow; for lady Cathe-
rine Hyde and lady Bolingbroke are to be there by
appointment, and I listed up my periwig, and all, to
make a figure. Well, who can help it? Not I, vow
to Heaven! Night, MD.
25. Lord-treasurer met me last night at lord
Masham's, and thanked me for my company in a
jeer, because I had not dined with him in three
days. He chides if I stay away but two days to-
gether. What will this come to? Nothing. My
grandmother used to say,
"More of your lining, and less of your dining."
However, I dined with him, and could hardly leave
him at eight, to go to lady Jersey's, where five or six
foreign ministers were, and as many ladies. Monte-
leon played like the English, and cried game, and
knocked his knuckles for trump, and played at
small games like Ppt. Lady Jersey whispered me
to stay and sup with the ladies when the fellows
were gone; but they played till eleven, and I would
not stay. I think this letter must go on Saturday ;
that's certain; and it is not half full yet. Lady
Catherine Hyde had a mighty mind I should be
acquainted with lady Dalkeith, her sister, the duke
of Monmouth's eldest son's widow, who was of the
company to-night; but I did not like her; she
paints too much. Night, MD.
26. This day our society met at the duke of Or-
mond's; but I had business that called me another
way; so I sent my excuses, and dined privately
with a friend. Besides, sir Thomas Hanmer whis-
pered me last night at lady Jersey's that I must at-
tend lord-treasurer and duke of Ormond at supper
at his house to-night; which I did at eleven, and
stayed till one, so you may be sure it is late enough.
There was the duchess of Grafton, and the duke her
son; nine of us in all. Duke of Ormond chid me
for not being at the society to-day, and said sixteen
were there. I said I never knew sixteen people
good company in my life; no, faith, nor eight nei-
ther. We have no news in this town at all.
wonder why I don't write you news. I know less of
what passes than anybody, because I go to no
coffeehouse, nor see any but ministers and such
people; and ministers never talk politics in conver-
sation. The Whigs are forming great schemes
against the meeting of parliament, which will be
next Tuesday, I still think, without fail; and we
hope to hear by then that the peace is ready to sign.
The queen's gout mends daily. Night, MD.
I
27. I passed a very insipid day, and dined pri-
vately with a friend in the neighbourhood. Did I
tell you that I have a very fine picture of lady Ork-
ney, an original, by sir Godfrey Kneller, three
quarters length? I have it now at home, with a
fine frame. Lord Bolingbroke and lady Masham
have promised to sit for me; but I despair of lord-
treasurer; only I hope he will give me a copy, and
a He bequeathed this picture to the Earl of Orrery.
268
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
a
answer. Some things are in my way, and then I
serve those I can. But people will not distinguish,
but take things ill when I have no power; but Ppt
is wiser. And employments in general are very
hard to be got. Night, MD.
then I shall have all the pictures of those I really | mending any one to me, provided you will take my
love here; just half a dozen; only I will make
lord-keeper give me his print in a frame. This letter
must go to-morrow, because of sending Me a bill ;
else it should not till next week, I assure you.
I have little to do now with my pen; for my grand
business stops till they are more pressing, and till
something or other happens; and I believe I shall
return with disgust to finish it, it is so very labori-
ous. Sir Thomas Hanmer has my papers now.
You are now at ombre with the dean, always on
Friday night with Mrs. Walls. Pray don't play at
small games. I stood by the other night while the
Duke d'Etrées lost six times with manilio, basto,
and three small trumps; and lady Jersey won above
twenty pounds. Night, dear MD.
28. I was at court to-day, when the abbé Gautier
whispered me that a courier was just come with an
account that the French king had consented to all
the queen's demands, and his consent was carried to
Utrecht, and the peace will be signed in a few
days. I suppose the general peace cannot be so
soon ready; but that is no matter. The news pre-
sently ran about the court. I saw the queen carried
out in her chair to take the air in the garden. I
met Griffin at court, and he told me that orders
were sent to examine Filby; and, if he be fit, to
make him (I think he called it) an assistant; I
don't know what, supervisor, I think; but it is
some employment a good deal better than his own.
The parliament will have another short prorogation,
though it is not known yet. I dined with lord-
treasurer and his Saturday company, and left him at
eight to put this in the post-office time enough.
And now I must bid you farewell, dearest rogues.
God bless dear MD; and love Pdfr. Farewell,
MD, FW, Me, Lele.
LETTER THE SIXTY-FIRST.
London, March 1, 1712-13.
It is out of my head whether I answered all your
letter in my last yesterday or no. I think I was in
haste, and could not: but now I see I answered a
good deal of it; no, only about your brother, and
Me's bill. I dined with lady Orkney, and we talked
politics till eleven at night; and, as usual, found
everything wrong, and put ourselves out of humour.
Yes, I have lady Giffard's picture sent me by your
mother. It is boxed up at a place where my other
things are. I have goods in two or three places;
and when I have a lodging I box up the books I get
(for I always get some), and come naked into a new
lodging; and so on. Talk not to me of deaneries;
I know less of that than ever by much. Night, MD.
2. I went into the city to see Pat Rolt, who
lodges with a city cousin, a daughter of cousin Cleve
(you are much the wiser). I had never been at her
house before. My he-cousin Thomson the butcher
is dead, or dying. I dined with my printer, and
I dined with my printer, and
walked home, and went to sit with lady Clarges. I
found four of them at whist; lady Godolphin was
one. I sat by her, and talked of her cards, &c., but
she would not give one look, nor say a word to me.
She refused some time ago to be acquainted with
me. You know she is lord Marlborough's eldest
daughter. She is a fool for her pains, and I'll pull
her down. What can I do for Dr. Smith's daughter's
husband? I have no personal credit with any of the
commissioners. I will speak to Keatley; but I
believe it will signify nothing. In the customs
people must rise by degrees, and he must at first
take what is very low, if he be qualified for that.
Ppt mistakes me; I am not angry at your recom-
"His History of the Peace of Utrecht.
3. I dined to-day with lord-treasurer, who chid
me for my absence, which was only from Saturday
last. The
The parliament was again prorogued for a
week, and I suppose the peace will be ready by then,
and the queen will be able to be brought to the
house and make her speech. I saw Dr. Griffith two
or three months ago at a Latin play at Westminster ;
but did not speak to him. I hope he will not die ;
I should be sorry for Ppt's sake; he is very tender
of her. I have long lost all my colds, and the
weather mends a little. I take some steel drops,
and my head is pretty well. I walk when I can,
but am grown very idle; and, not finishing my
thing, I ramble abroad and play at ombre. I shall
be more careful in my physic than Mrs. Price: 'tis
not a farthing matter her death, I think; and so I
say no more to-night, but will read a dull book and
go sleep. Night, dear MD.
to me,
4. Mr. Ford has been this half-year inviting me to
dine at his lodgings: so I did to-day, and brought
the provost and Dr. Parnell with me, and my friend
Lewis was there. Parnell went away, and the other
three played at ombre, and I looked on; which I
love, and would not play. Tisdall is a pretty fellow,
as you say; and when I come back to Ireland with
nothing he will condole with me with abundance of
secret pleasure. I believe I told you what he wrote
"That I have saved England, and he Ire-
land;" but I can bear that. I have learned to hear
and see, and say nothing. I was to see the duchess
Hamilton to-day, and met Blith of Ireland just
going out of her house into his coach. I asked her
how she came to receive young fellows. It seems
he had a ball in the duke of Hamilton's house when
the duke died; and the duchess got an advertise-
ment put in the Postboy, reflecting on the ball be-
cause the Marlborough daughters were there; and
Blith came to beg the duchess's pardon and clear
himself. He is a sad dog. Night, dear MD.
5. Lady Masham has miscarried; but is almost
well again. I have paid many visits to-day. I met
Blith at the duke of Ormond's; and he begged me
to carry him to the duchess Hamilton to beg her
pardon again. I did on purpose to see how the
blunderbuss behaved himself; but I begged the
duchess to use him mercifully, for she is the devil of
a teaser. The good of it is, she ought to beg his
pardon, for he meant no harm; yet she would not
allow him to put in an advertisement to clear him-
self from hers, though hers was all a lie. He ap-
pealed to me, and I gravely gave it against him. I
was at court to-day, and the foreign ministers have
got a trick of employing me to speak for them to
lord-treasurer and lord Bolingbroke; which I do
when the case is reasonable. The college need not
I dined with sir
fear; I will not be their governor.
Thomas Hanmer and his duchess. The duke of
Ormond was there, but we parted soon, and I went
to visit lord Pembroke for the first time; but it was
to see some curious books. Lord Cholmondeley
came in; but I would not talk to him, though he
made many advances. I hate the scoundrel for all
he is your Griffith's friend. Yes, yes, I am abused
enough, if that be all. Night, MD.
6. I was to-day at an auction of pictures with
Pratt, and laid out two pounds five shillings for a
picture of Titian, and if it were a Titian it would be
worth twice as many pounds. If I am cheated, I'll
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
269
part with it to lord Masham: if it be a bargain, I'll
keep it to myself. That's my conscience. But I
made Pratt buy several pictures for lord Masham.
Pratt is a great virtuoso that way.
I dined with
lord-treasurer, but made him go to court at eight.
I always tease him to be gone. I thought to have
made Parnell dine with him, but he was ill; his
head is out of order like mine, but more constant,
poor boy! I was at lord-treasurer's levee with the
provost, to ask a book for the college. I never go
to his levee unless it be to present somebody.
7. Yes, I hope Leigh will soon be gone, a p- on
*
him! I met him once, and he talked gravely to me
of not seeing the Irish bishops here, and the Irish
gentlemen; but I believe my answers fretted him
enough. I would not dine with lord-treasurer to-
day, though it was Saturday (for he has engaged
me for to-morrow), but went and dined with lord
Masham, and played at ombre, sixpenny running
ombre, for three hours. There were three voles
against me, and I was once a great loser, but came
off for three shillings and sixpence. One may easily
lose five guineas at it. Lady Orkney is gone out of
town to-day, and I could not see her for laziness,
but wrote to her. She has left me some physic. I
She has left me some physic. I
knew MD's politics before, and I think it pretty
extraordinary, and a great compliment to you, and
I believe never three people conversed so much with
so little politics. I avoid all conversation with the
other party; it is not to be borne, and I am sorry
for it. O yes, things are very dear. DD must come
in at last with her two eggs a penny. There the
provost was well applied. Parvisol has sent me a
bill of fifty pounds, as I ordered him, which I hope
will serve me, and bring me over. Pray God MD
does not be delayed for it: but I have had very little
from him this long time. I was not at court to-day;
a wonder! Night, dear MD. Love Pdfr.
8. You must know I give chocolate almost every
day to two or three people that I suffer to come to
see me in a morning. My man begins to lie pretty
well. 'Tis nothing for people to be denied ten times.
My man knows all I will see, and denies me to
everybody else. This is the day of the queen's
coming to the crown, and the day lord-treasurer was
stabbed by Guiscard. I was at court, where every-
body had their birthday clothes on, and I dined with
lord-treasurer, who was very fine. He showed me
some of the queen's speech, which I corrected in
several places, and penned the vote of address of
thanks for the speech; but I was of opinion the
house should not sit on Tuesday next unless they
hear the peace is signed; that is, provided they are
sure it will be signed the week after, and so have
one scolding for all. Night, MD.
I
9. Lord-treasurer would have had me dine with
him to-day; he desired me last night, but I refused,
because he would not keep the day of his stabbing
with all the cabinet, as he intended: so I dined with
my friend Lewis; and the provost, Parnell, and
Ford, were with us. I lost sixteen shillings at
ombre; I don't like it. At night Lewis brought us
word that the parliament does not sit to-morrow.
hope they are sure of the peace by next week, and
then they are right in my opinion: otherwise I think
they have done wrong, and might have sat three
weeks ago. People will grumble; but lord-trea-
surer cares not a rush. Lord-keeper is suddenly
taken ill of a quinsy, and some lords are commis-
sioned, I think lord-treasurer, to prorogue the par-
liament in his stead. You never saw a town so full
of ferment and expectation. Mr. Pope has published
a fine poem, called Windsor Forest. Read it.
Night, MD.
|
10. I was early this morning to see lord Boling-
broke. I find he was of opinion the parliament
should sit; and says they are not sure the peace will
be signed next week. The prorogation is to this
day se'ennight. I went to look on a library I am
going to buy, if we can agree. I have offered a
hundred and twenty pounds, and will give ten
pounds more. Lord Bolingbroke will lend me the
I
money.
money. I was two hours poring over the books.
will sell some of them and keep the rest; but I
doubt they won't take the money. I dined in the
city, and sate an hour in the evening with lord-
treasurer, who was in very good humour, but re-
proached me for not dining with him yesterday and
to-day. What will all this come to? Lord-keeper
had a pretty good night, and is better. I was in
pain for him. Night, MD.
11. I was this morning to visit the duke and
duchess of Ormond and the duchess of Hamilton,
and went with the provost to an auction of pictures,
and laid out fourteen shillings. I am in for it if I
had money; but I doubt I shall be undone; for sir
Andrew Fountaine invited the provost and me to
dine with him and play at ombre, when I fairly lost.
fourteen shillings. It won't do; and I ehall be out
of conceit with play this good while. I am come
home; and it is late, and my puppy let out my fire,
and I am gone to bed, and writing there, and it is
past twelve a good while. Went out four matadores
and a trump in black, and yet was beasted. Very
sad, faith! ~Night, my dear rogues, MD.
12. I was at another auction of pictures to-day,
and a great auction it was. I made lord Masham
lay out forty pounds. There were pictures sold of
twice as much value apiece. Our society met to-
day at the duke of Beaufort's: a prodigious fine
dinner, which I hate; but we did some business.
Our printer was to attend us as usual; and the
chancellor of the exchequer sent the author of the
"Examiner " [Mr. Oldisworth] twenty guineas.
He is an ingenious fellow, but the most confounded
vain coxcomb in the world, so that I dare not let
him see me, nor am acquainted with him. I had
much discourse with the duke of Ormond this morn-
ing, and am driving some points to secure **
I left the society at seven. I can't drink now at all
with any pleasure. I love white Portugal_wine
better than claret, champagne, or burgundy. I have
a sad vulgar appetite. I remember Ppt used to
maunder when I came from a great dinner, and DI
had but a bit of mutton. I cannot endure above
one dish, nor ever could since I was a boy and
loved stuffing. It was a fine day, which is a rarity
with us, I assure you. Never fair two days together.
Night, MD.
**
13. I had a rabble of Irish parsons this morning
drinking my chocolate. I cannot remember ap-
pointments. I was to have supped last night with
the Swedish envoy at his house, and some other
company, but forgot it; and he rallied me to-day at
lord Bolingbroke's, who excused me, saying the en-
voy ought not to be angry, because I serve lord-trea-
surer and him the same way. For that reason I
very seldom promise to go anywhere. I dined with
lord-treasurer, who chid me for being absent so long,
as he always does if I miss a day. I sat three hours
this evening with lady Jersey; but the first two hours
she was at ombre with some company. I left lord-
treasurer at eight; I fancied he was a little thought-
ful, for he was playing with an orange by fits, which,
I told him, among common men looked like the
spleen. This letter shall not go to-morrow; no
haste, young women; nothing that presses. I pro-
mised but once in three weeks, and I am better than
270
JOURNAL TO STELLA
my word. I wish the peace may be ready, I mean
that we have notice it is signed before Tuesday;
otherwise the grumbling will much increase. Night,
dear MD.
14. It was a lovely day this, and I took the ad-
vantage of walking a good deal in the park before I
went to court. Colonel Disney, one of our society,
is ill of a fever, and, we fear, in great danger. We
We
all love him mightily, and he would be a great loss.
I doubt I shall not buy the library; for a roguish
bookseller has offered sixty pounds more than I de-
signed to give; so you see I meant to have a good
bargain. I dined with lord-treasurer and his Satur-
day company; but there were but seven at table.
Lord Peterborow is ill, and spits blood, with a
bruise he got before he left England; but, I believe,
an Italian lady he has brought over is the cause that
his illness returns. You know old lady Bellasyse is
dead at last? She has left lord Berkeley of Stratton
one of her executors, and it will be of great advan-
tage to him; they say above ten thousand pounds.
I stayed with lord-treasurer upon business after the
company was gone, but I dare not tell you upon
what. My letters would be good memoirs if I durst
venture to say a thousand things that pass; but I |
hear so much of letters opening at your post-office
that I am fearful, &c., and so good night. Love
Pdfr and MD.
15. Lord-treasurer engaged me to dine with him
again to-day, and I had ready what he wanted; but
he would not see it, but put me off till to-morrow.
The queen goes to chapel now. She is carried in an
open chair, and will be well enough to go to parlia-
ment on Tuesday, if the houses meet, which is not yet
certain; neither, indeed, can the ministers themselves
tell; for it depends on winds and weather, and cir-
cumstances of negotiation. However, we go on as
if it was certainly to meet; and I am to be at lord-
treasurer's to-morrow, upon that supposition, to
settle some things relating that way. Ppt may un-
derstand me. The doctors tell me that, if poor
if poor
colonel Disney does not get some sleep to-night, he
must die. What care you? Ah! but I do care.
He is one of our society; a fellow of abundance of
humour; an old battered rake, but very honest:
not an old man, but an old rake. It was he that
said of Jenny Kingdom, the maid of honour, who
is a little old, "That, since she could not get a
husband, the queen should give her a brevet to act
as a married woman." You don't understand this.
They give brevets to majors and captains to act as
colonels in the army. Brevets are commissions.
Ask soldiers, dear sirrahs. Night, MD.
16. I was at lord-treasurer's before he came; and,
as he entered, he told me the parliament was pro-
rogued till Thursday se'ennight. They have had some
expresses, by which they count that the peace may
be signed by that time; at least, that France, Hol-
land, and we, will sign some articles, by which we
shall engage to sign the peace when it is ready: but
Spain has no minister there; for Monteleon, who is
to be their ambassador at Utrecht, is not yet gone
from hence; and till he is there the Spaniards can
sign no peace: and one thing take notice, that a
general peace can hardly be finished these two months,
so as to be proclaimed here; for, after signing, it
must be ratified; that is, confirmed by the several
princes at their courts, which to Spain will cost a
month; for we must have notice that it is ratified
in all courts before we can proclaim it. So be not
in too much haste. Night, MD.
17. The Irish folks were disappointed that the par-
liament did not meet to-day, because it was St.
|
|
I thought all the world was Irish, Miss Ashe is
almost quite well, and I see the bishop, but shall not
yet go to his house. I dined again with lord-trea-
surer; but the parliament being prorogued, I must
keep what I have till next week: for I believe he
will not see it till just the evening before the session.
He has engaged me to dine with him again to-morrow,
though I did all I could to put it off; but I don't
care to disoblige him. Night, MD.
18. I have now dined six days successively with
lord-treasurer; but to-night I stole away while he
was talking with somebody else, and so am at liberty
to-morrow. There was a flying report of a general
cessation of arms: everybody had it at court; but I
believe there is nothing in it. I asked a certain
French minister how things went? And he whispered
me in French, "Your plenipotentiaries and ours
play the fool." None of us, indeed, approve of the
conduct of either at this time; but lord-treasurer
was in full good humour for all that. He had invited
a good many of his relations; and of a dozen at
table, they were all of the Harley family but myself.
Disney is recovering, though you don't care a straw.
Dilly murders us with his if puns. You know them.
Night, MD.
19. The bishop of Clogher has made an if pun,
that he is mighty proud of, and designs to send it over
to his brother Tom. But sir Andrew Fountaine has
wrote to Tom Ashe last post, and told him the pun,
and desired him to send it over to the bishop as his
own; and, if it succeeds, it will be a pure bite.
The bishop will tell it us as a wonder, that he and
his brother should jump so exactly. I'll tell you the
pun :-If there was a hackney coach at Mr. Pooley's
door, what town in Egypt would it be? Why, it
would be Hecatompolis; "Hack at Tom Pooley's."
Silly, says, Ppt. I dined with a private friend to-day;
for our society, I told you, meet but once a fortnight.
I have not seen Fanny Manley yet; I can't help it.
Lady Orkney is come to town: why, she was at her
country-house; what care you? Night, MD.
No
The
20. Dilly read me a letter to-day from Ppt. She
seems to have scratched her head when she wrote
it. 'Tis a sad thing to write to people without taste.
There you say, you hear I was going to Bath.
such thing; I am pretty well, I thank God.
town is now sending me to Savoy. Forty people
have given me joy of it, yet there is not the least
truth that I know in it. I was at an auction of
pictures, but bought none. I was so glad of my
liberty that I would dine nowhere; but, the weather
being fine, I sauntered into the city, and ate a bit
about five, and then supped at Mr. Burke's, your
accountant-general, who had been engaging me
this month. The bishop of Clogher was to have
been there, but was hindered by lord Paget's fune-
ral. The provost and I sat till one o'clock; and if
that be not late I don't know what is late. Parnell's
poem will be published on Monday, and to-morrow
I design he shall present it to lord-treasurer and
lord Bolingbroke at court. The poor lad is almost
always out of order with his head. Burke's wife is
his sister. She has a little of the pert Irish way.
Night, MD.
21. Morning.-I will now finish my letter; for
company will come, and a stir, and a clutter; and
I'll keep the letter in my pocket, and give it into
the post myself. I must go to court, and you know
on Saturday I dine with lord-treasurer, of course.
Farewell, dearest MD, FW, Me, Lele.
LETTER THE SIXTY-SECOND.
London, March 21, 1712-13.
Patrick's day; and the Mall was so full of crosses that I GAVE your letter in this night. I dined with lord-
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
271
treasurer to-day, and find he has been at a meeting
at lord Halifax's house, with four principal Whigs;
but he is resolved to begin a speech against them
when the parliament sits; and I have begged that
the ministry may have a meeting on purpose to
settle that matter, and let us be the attackers; and
I believe it will come to something, for the Whigs
intend to attack the ministers and if, instead of
that, the ministers attack the Whigs, it will be bet-
ter and further, I believe we shall attack them on
those very points they intend to attack us. The
parliament will be again prorogued for a fortnight,
because of Passion-week. I forgot to tell you that
Mr. Griffin has given Ppt's brother a new employ-
ment, about ten pounds a-year better than his
former; but more remote, and consequently cheaper.
I wish I could have done better, and hope that you
will take what can be done in good part, and that
Ppt's brother will not dislike it.--Night, dearest MI).
22. I dined to-day with lord-steward [earl Poulet].
There Frank Annesley (a parliament-man) told me
he had heard that I had wrote to my friends in Ire-
land to keep firm to the Whig interest; for that
lord-treasurer would certainly declare for it after
the peace. Annesley said twenty people had told
him this. You must know this is what they endea-
vour to report of lord-treasurer, that he designs to
declare for the Whigs; and a Scotch fellow has
wrote the same to Scotland; and his meeting with
those lords gives occasion to such reports. Let me
henceforth call lord-treasurer Eltee, because possibly
my letters may be opened. Pray remember Eltee.
You know the reason. L. T. and Eltee are pro-
nounced the same way. Stay, it is now five weeks
since I had a letter from MD. I allow you six.
You see why I cannot come over the beginning of
April. Whoever has to do with this ministry can
fix no time: but as hope saved, it is not Pdfr's
fault.
23. I dined to-day at sir Thomas Hanmer's, by
an old appointment: there was the duke of Ormond,
and lord and lady Orkney. I left them at six.
Everybody is as sour as vinegar. I endeavour to
keep a firm friendship between the duke of Ormond
and Eltee. You know who Eltee is (or have you
forgot already?). I have great designs, if I can com-
pass them; but delay is rooted in Eltee's heart; yet
the fault is not altogether there that things are no
better. Here is the cursedest libel in verse come
out that ever was seen, called "The Ambassa-
dress;" it is very dull too; it has been printed
three or four different ways, and is handed about, but
not sold. It abuses the queel horribly. The Ex-
aminer has cleared me to-day of being author of
his paper, and done it with great civilities to me. I
hope it will stop people's mouths: if not, they must
go on and be hanged, I care not. 'Tis terrible rainy
weather; I'll go sleep. Night, dearest MD.
24. It rained all this day, and ruined me in coach-
hire. I went to colonel Disney, who is past danger.
Then I visited lord-keeper, who was at dinner; but
I would not dine with him, but drove to lord-trea-
surer (Eltee I mean); paid the coachman and went
in; but he dined abroad: so I was forced to call
the coachman again, and went to lord Bolingbroke's.
He dined abroad too; and at lord Dupplin's I alighted,
and by good luck got a dinner there, and then went
to the Latin play at Westminster school, acted by
the boys and lord-treasurer (Eltee I mean again)
honoured them with his presence. Lady Masham's
eldest son, about two years old, is ill, and I am
afraid will not live: she is full of grief, and I pity
It was entitled "The British Ambassadress's Speech to
the French King.'
|
and am angry with her. Four shillings to-day in
coach-hire; faith it won't do. Our peace will cer-
tainly be ready by Thursday fortnight; but our
plenipotentiaries were to blame that it was not done
already. They thought their powers were not full
enough to sign the peace, unless every prince was
ready, which cannot yet be; for Spain has no mi-
nister yet at Utrecht; but now ours have new orders.
Night, MD.
So a
25. Weather worse than ever; terrible rain all
day, but I was resolved I would spend no more
money. I went to an auction of pictures with Dr.
Pratt, and there met the duke of Beaufort, who pro-
mised to come with me to court, but did not.
coach I got, and went to court, and did some little
business there, but was forced to go home; for you
must understand I take a little physic over night,
which works me next day. Lady Orkney is my
physician. It is hiera picra, two spoonsful-devilish
stuff! I thought to have dined with Eltee, but would
not, merely to save a shilling; but I dined privately
with a friend, and played at ombre, and won six
shillings. Here are several people of quality lately
dead of the small-pox. I have not yet seen Miss
Ashe, but hear she is well. The bishop of Clogher
has bought abundance of pictures, and Dr. Pratt has
got him very good pennyworths. I can get no walks,
the weather is so bad. Is it so with you? Night,
dear MD.
26. Though it was shaving-day, head and beard,
yet I was out early to see lord Bolingbroke and talk
over affairs with him; and then I went to the duke
of Ormond, and so to court, where the ministers did
not come, because the parliament was prorogued
ill this day fortnight. We had terrible rain and
hail to-day. Our society met this day, but I left
them before seven, and went to sir Andrew Foun-
taine, and played at ombre with him and sir Thomas
Clarges till ten, and then went to sir Thomas Han-
mer. His wife, the duchess of Grafton, left us after
a little while, and I stayed with him about an hour,
upon some affairs, &c. Lord Bolingbroke left us at
the society before I went; for there is an express
from Utrecht, but I know not yet what it contains ;
only I know the ministers expect the peace will be
signed in a week, which is a week before the session.
Night, MD.
27. Parnell's poem is mightily esteemed; but,
poetry sells ill. I am plagued with that **** poor
Harrison's mother; you would laugh to see how
cautious I am of paying her the 1007. I received
for her son from the treasury. I have asked every
creature I know whether I may do it safely; yet
durst not venture till
durst not venture till my lord-keeper assured me
there was no danger. Yet I have not paid her, but
will in a day or two: though I have a great mind to
stay till Ppt sends me her opinion, because Ppt is a
great lawyer. I dined to-day with a mixture of
people at a Scotchman's, who made the invitation
to Mr. Lewis and me, and has some design upon
us, which we know very well. I went afterward
to see a famous moving picture, and I never saw
anything so pretty. You see a sea ten inches wide,
a town at the other end, and ships sailing in the sea
and discharging their cannon.
You see a great sky,
with moon and stars, &c. I am a fool. Night,
dear MD.
I am
28. I had a mighty levee to-day. I deny myself
to everybody, except about half a dozen, and they
were all here, and Mr. Addison was one. I had
chocolate twice, which I don't like.
Our rainy
weather continues. Coach-hire goes deep. I dined
with Eltee and his Saturday company, as usual, and
could not get away till nine. Lord Peterborow was
272
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
us.
making long harangues, and Eltee kept me in spite. |
Then I went to see the bishop of Ossory, who had
engaged me in the morning; he is going to Ireland.
The bishop of Killaloe and Tom Leigh were with
The latter had wholly changed his style by
seeing how the bishops behaved themselves, and he
seemed to think me one of more importance than I
really am. I put the ill conduct of the bishops.
about the first-fruits, with relation to Eltee and me,
strongly upon Killaloe, and showed how it had hin-
dered me from getting a better thing for them, call-
ed the crown-rents, which the queen had promised.
He had nothing to say, but was humble, and desired
my interest in that and some other things. This
letter is half done in a week: I believe you will have
it next. Night, MD.
29. I have been employed in endeavouring to
save one of your junior fellows, who came over here
for a dispensation from taking orders, and, in soli-
citing it, has run out his time, and now his fellowship
is void, if the college pleases, unless the queen sus-
pends the execution, and gives him time to take
orders. I spoke to all the ministers yesterday about
it; but they say the queen is angry, and thought it
was a trick to deceive her; and she is positive, and
so the man must be ruined, for I cannot help him.
I never saw him in my life; but the case was so
hard I could not forbear interposing. Your go-
vernment recommended him to the duke of Ormond,
and he thought they would grant it; and by the
time it was refused the fellowship by rigour is for-
feited. I dined with Dr. Arbuthnot (one of my
brothers) at his lodgings in Chelsea, and was there
at chapel; and the altar put me in mind of Tisdall's
outlandish mould at your hospital for the soldiers.
I was not at court to-day, and I hear the queen was
not at church. Perhaps the gout has seized her
again. Terrible rain all day. Have you such wea-
ther? Night, MD.
The
30. Morning.—I was naming some time ago to
a certain person, another certain person that was
very deserving and poor and sickly; and the other,
that first certain person, gave me a hundred pounds
to give the other, which I have not yet done.
person who is to have it never saw the giver, nor
expects one farthing, nor has the least knowledge
or imagination of it; so I believe it will be a very
agreeable surprise; for I think it is a handsome
for I think it is a handsome
present enough. At night I dined in the city, at
Pontack's, with lord Dupplinb and some others.
We were treated by one colonel Cleland, who has
a mind to be governor of Barbadoes, and is laying
these long traps for me and others, to engage our
interest for him. He is a true Scotchman. I paid
the hundred pounds this evening, and it was a great
surprise to the receiver. We reckon the peace is
now signed, and that we shall have it in three days.
I believe it is pretty sure. Night, MD.
31. I thought to-day on Ppt when she told me
she supposed I was acquainted with the steward,
when I was giving myself airs of being at some lord's
house. Sir Andrew Fountaine invited the bishop
of Clogher and me, and some others, to dine where
he did; and he carried us to the duke of Kent's, who
was gone out of town; but the steward treated us
nobly, and showed us the fine pictures, &c. I have
not yet seen Miss Ashe. I wait till she has been
abroad and taken the air. This evening lady Mash-
am, Dr. Arbuthnot, and I, were contriving a lie
for to-morrow, that Mr. Noble, who was hanged
last Saturday, was recovered by his friends and then
Mr. Charles Grattan, afterwards master of the royal free
school at Enniskillen, founded by Erasmus Smith, esq.
Then one of the tellers of the exchequer.
seized again by the sheriff, and is now in a mes-
senger's hands at the Black Swan in Holborn. We
are all to send to our friends to know whether they
they have heard anything of it, and so we hope it
will spread. However, we shall do our endeavours;
nothing shall be wanting on our parts, and leave
the rest to fortune. Night, MD.
April 1. We had no success in our story, though
I sent my man to several houses to inquire among
the footmen, without letting him into the secret;
but I doubt my colleagues did not contribute as they
ought. Parnell and I dined with Dartineuf to-day
You have heard of Dartineuf: I have told you of
Dartineuf. After dinner we all went to lord Bo-
lingbroke's, who had desired me to dine with him,
but I would not, because I had heard it was to look
over a dull poem of one parson Trap upon the peace.
The Swedish envoy told me to-day at court that he
was in great apprehensions about his master, and
indeed we are afraid that prince [Charles XII.] is
dead among those Turkish dogs. I prevailed on
lord Bolingbroke to invite Mr. Addison to dine with
him on Good Friday. I suppose we shall be mighty
mannerly. Addison is to have a play on Friday in
Easter week: 'tis a tragedy called Cato; I saw it un-
finished some years ago. Did I tell you that Steele
has begun a new daily paper called the "Guardian?”
they say good for nothing. I have not seen it.
Night, dear MD.
2. I was this morning with lord Bolingbroke, and
he tells me a Spanish courier is just come with the
news that the king of Spain has agreed to everything
that the queen desires, and the duke d'Ossuna has
left Paris in order to his journey to Utrecht. I was
prevailed on to come home with Trap and read his
poem and correct it, but it was good for nothing.
While I was thus employed sir Thomas Hanmer
came up to my chamber and balked me of a journey
he and I intended this week to lord Orkney's, at
Cliffden, but he is not well, and his physician will
not let him undertake such a journey. I intended
to dine with lord-treasurer, but going to see colonel
Disney, who lives with general Withers, I liked the
general's little dinner so well that I stayed and took
share of it, and did not go to lord-treasurer till six,
where I found Dr. Sacheverel, who told us that the
bookseller had given him 1007. for his sermon
preached last Sunday, and intended to print 30,000;
I believe he will be confoundedly bit, and will
hardly sell above half. I have fires still, though April
is begun, against my old maxim, but the weather is
wet and cold. I never saw such a long run of ill
weather in my life. Night, dear MD.
3. I was at the queen's chapel to-day, but she was
not there. Mr. St. John, lord Bolingbroke's brother,
came this day at noon with an express from Utrecht
that the peace is signed by all the ministers there
but those of the emperor, who will likewise sign in
a few days, so that now the great work is in effect
done, and I believe it will appear a most excellent
peace for Europe, particularly for England. Addison
and I, and some others, dined with lord Bolingbroke,
and sate with him till twelve. We were very civil,
but yet, when we grew warm, we talked in a friendly
manner of party. Addison raised his objections, and
lord Bolingbroke answered them with great com-
plaisance. Addison began lord Somers's health,
which went about; but I bid him not name lord
Wharton's, for I would not pledge it, and I told lord
Bolingbroke frankly that Addison loved lord Whar-
ton as little as I did: so we laughed, &c. Well, but
you are glad of the peace, you Ppt the trimmer, are
not you? As for DD, I don't doubt her. Why, now,
if I did not think Ppt had been a violent Tory, and
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
273
DD the greater Whig of the two! It is late. Night,
MD.
4. This Passion-week people are so demure, espe-
cially this last day, that I told Dilly, who called here,
that I would dine with him, and so I did, faith, and
had a small shoulder of mutton of my own bespeaking.
It rained all day. I came home at seven and have
never stirred out, but have been reading Sacheverel's
long dull sermon which he sent me. It is his first
sermon since his suspension is expired, but not a
word in it upon the occasion except two or three re-
mote hints. The bishop of Clogher has been sadly bit
by Tom Ashe, who sent him a pun which the bishop
had made and designed to send him, but delayed it;
and lord Pembroke and I made sir Andrew Foun-
taine write it to Tom. I believe I told you of it in
my last; it succeeded right, and the bishop was
wondering to lord Pembroke how he and his brother
could hit on the same thing. I'll go to bed soon, for
I must be at church by eight to-morrow, Easter-
day. Night, dear MD.
5. Warburton wrote to me two letters about a
living of one Foulkes, who is lately dead in the
county of Meath. My answer is, that before I re-
ceived the first letter general Georges had recom-
mended a friend of his to the duke of Ormond,
which was the first time I heard of its vacancy, and
it was the provost told me of it. I believe verily
that Foulkes was not dead when Georges recom-
mended the other, for Warburton's last letter said
that Foulkes was dead the day before the date.-
This has prevented me from serving Warburton as
I would have done if I had received early notice
enough. Pray say or write this to Warburton, to
justify me to him. I was at church at eight this
morning, and dressed and shaved after I came back,
but was too late at court, and lord Abingdon had
like to have snapped me for dinner, and I believe
will fall out for refusing him; but I hate dining with
him, and I dined with a private friend, and took
two or three good walks, for it was a very fine day,
the first we have had a great while. Remember,
was Easter-day a fine day with you? I have sat with
lady Worsley till now. Night, MD.
6. I was this morning at ten at the rehearsal of
Mr. Addison's play, called Cato, which is to be acted
on Friday. There was not above half-a-score of us
to see it. We stood on the stage, and it was foolish
enough to see the actors prompted every moment,
and the poet directing them; and the drab that acts
Cato's daughter [Mrs. Oldfield] out in the midst of
a passionate part, and then calling out, "What's
next?" The bishop of Clogher was there too; but
he stood privately in a gallery. I went to dine with
lord-treasurer, but he was gone to Wimbledon, his
daughter Caermarthen's country seat, seven miles
off. So I went back, and dined privately with Mr.
Addison, whom I had left to go to lord-treasurer.
I keep fires yet; I am very extravagant. I sat this
evening with sir Andrew Fountaine, and we amused
ourselves with making ifs for Dilly. It is rainy
weather again; never saw the like. This letter
shall go to-morrow: remember, young women, it
is seven weeks since your last, and I allow you but
five weeks; but you have been galloping in the
country to Swanton's. Pray tell Swanton I had
his letter, but cannot contrive how to serve him.
If a governor were to go over, I would recommend
him as far as lay in my power, but I can do no
more: and you know all employments in Ireland,
at least almost all, are engaged in reversions. If I
were on the spot, and had credit with a lord-lieu-
tenant, I would very heartily recommend him; but
VOL. I.
employments here are no more in my power than
the monarchy itself. Night, dear MD.
7. Morning.-I have had a visitor here that has
taken up my time. I have not been abroad, you
may be sure; so I can say nothing to-day, but that
I love MD better than ever, if possible. I will put
this in the post-office; so I say no more. I write
by this post to the dean, but it is not above two
lines; and one enclosed to you, but that enclosed to
you is not above three lines; and then one enclosed
to the dean, which he must not have but upon con-
dition of burning it immediately after reading, and
that before your eyes; for there are some things in
it I would not have liable to accident. You shall
only know in general that it is an account of what I
have done to serve him in his pretensions on these
vacancies, &c. But he must not know that you
know so much. Don't this perplex you?
you? What
care I? But love Pdfr. Farewell, dearest MD,
FW, Me, Lele.
LETTER THE SIXTY-THIRD.
London, April 7, 1713.
I FANCY I marked my last, which I sent this day,
wrong; only 61, and it ought to be 62. I dined
with lord-treasurer, and though the business I had
with him is something against Thursday, when the
parliament is to meet, and this is Tuesday, yet he
put it off till to-morrow. I dare not tell you what
it is, lest this letter should miscarry or be opened;
but I never saw his fellow for delays. The par-
liament will now certainly sit, and everybody's ex-
pectations are ready to burst. At a council to-night
the lord-chief-justice Parker, a Whig, spoke against
the peace; so did lord Cholmondeley, another Whig,
who is treasurer of the household. My lord-keeper
[lord Harcourt], was this night made lord-chancellor.
We hope there will soon be some removes. Night,
dearest little MD.
8. Lord Cholmondeley is this day removed from
his employment, for his last night's speech; and sir
Richard Temple, lieutenant-general, the greatest
Whig in the army, is turned out; and lieutenant-
general Palmes will be obliged to sell his regiment.
This is the first-fruits of a friendship I have esta-
blished between two great men. I dined with lord-
treasurer, and did the business I had for him to his
satisfaction. I won't tell you what it was. The
parliament sits to-morrow for certain. Here is a
letter printed in Macartney's name, vindicating him-
self from the murder of duke Hamilton. I must
give some hints to have it answered; 'tis full of lies,
and will give an opportunity of exposing that party.
To-morrow will be a very important day. All the
world will be at Westminster. Lord-treasurer is as
easy as a lamb. They are mustering up the proxies
of the absent lords; but they are not in any fear of
wanting a majority, which death and accidents have
increased this year. Night, MD.
9. I was this morning with lord-treasurer, to pre-
sent to him a young son of the late earl of Jersey,
at the desire of the widow. There I saw the mace
and great coach ready for lord-treasurer, who was
going to parliament. Our society met to-day; but
I expected the houses would sit longer than I cared
to fast; so I dined with a friend, and never inquired
how matters went till eight this evening, when I
went to lord Orkney's, where I found sir Thomas
Hanmer. The queen delivered her speech very
well, but a little weaker in her voice. The crowd
was vast. The order for an address was moved, and
opposed by lords Nottingham, Halifax, and Cowper.
T
274
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
Lord-treasurer spoke with great spirit and reso-
lution; lord Peterborow flirted against the duke of
Marlborough (who is in Germany, you know), but
it was in answer to one of lord Halifax's imper-
tinences. The order for an address passed by a
majority of thirty-three, and the houses rose before
six. This is the account I heard at lord Orkney's.
The bishop of Chester, a high Tory, was against the
court. The duchess of Marlborough sent for him
some months ago, to justify herself to him in rela-
tion to the queen, and showed him letters, and told
him stories, which the weak man believed, and was
converted.
10. I dined with a cousin in the city, and poor
Pat Rolt was there. I have got her rogue of a hus-
band leave to come to England from Portmahon.
The Whigs are much down, but I reckon they
have some scheme in agitation. This parliament-
time hinders our court meetings on Wednesdays,
Thursdays, and Saturdays. I had a great deal of
business to-night, which gave me a temptation to be
idle, and I lost a dozen shillings at ombre with Dr.
Pratt and another. It rains every day, and yet we
are all over dust. Lady Masham's eldest boy is
very ill I doubt he will not live, and she stays at
Kensington to nurse him, which vexes us all. She
is so excessively fond, it makes me mad. She should
never leave the queen, but leave everything to stick
to what is so much the interest of the public, as well
as her own. This I tell her, but talk to the winds.
Night, MD.
11. I dined at lord-treasurer's, with his Saturday
company. We had ten at table, all lords but myself
and the chancellor of the exchequer. Argyle went
off at six, and was in very indifferent humour as
usual. Duke of Ormond and lord Bolingbroke were
absent. I stayed till near ten. Lord-treasurer
showed us a small picture, enamelled work, and set
in gold, worth about twenty pounds; a picture, I
mean, of the queen, which she gave to the duchess
of Marlborough, set in diamonds. When the duchess
was leaving England, she took off all the diamonds,
and gave the picture to one Mrs. Higgins (an old
intriguing woman, whom everybody knows), bid-
ding her make the best of it she could. Lord-trea-
surer sent to Mrs. Higgins for this picture, and gave
her a hundred pounds for it. Was ever such an
ungrateful beast as that duchess? or did you ever
hear such a story? I suppose the Whigs will not
believe it. Pray, try them. She takes off the dia-
monds, and gives away the picture to an insignificant
woman, as a thing of no consequence: and gives it
it to her to sell, like a piece of old-fashioned plate.
Is she not a detestable slut? Night, dear MD.
12. I went to court to-day, on purpose to present
Mr. Berkeley, one of your fellows of Dublin-college,
to lord Berkeley of Stratton. That Mr. Berkeley is
a very ingenious man and great philosopher, and I
have mentioned him to all the ministers, and have
given them some of his writings; and I will favour
him as much as I can, This I think I am bound to,
in honour and conscience, to use all my little credit
toward helping forward men of worth in the world.
The queen was at chapel to-day, and looks well. I
dined at lord Orkney's, with the duke of Ormond,
lord Arran, and sir Thomas Hanmer. Mr. St. John,
secretary at Utrecht, expects every moment to return
there with the ratification of the peace. Did I tell
you in my last of Addison's play called Cato, and
that I was at the rehearsal of it? Night, MD.
13. This morning my friend Mr. Lewis came to
and showed me an order for a warrant for three
a Afterwards the celebrated bishop of Cloyne.
me,
deaneries; but none of them to me. This was what
I always foresaw, and received the notice of it better,
I believe, than he expected. I bid Mr. Lewis tell
my lord-treasurer that I take nothing ill of him but
his not giving me timely notice, as he promised to
do, if he found the queen would do nothing for me.
At noon lord-treasurer, hearing I was in Mr. Lewis's
office, came to me, and said many things too long
to repeat. I told him I had nothing to do but go
to Ireland immediately; for I could not, with any
reputation, stay longer here, unless I had something
honourable immediately given to me. We dined
together at the duke of Ormond's. He there told
me he had stopped the warrants for the deans, that
what was done for me might be at the same time,
and he hoped to compass it to-night; but I believe
him not.
him not. I told the duke of Ormond my intentions.
He is content Sterne should be a bishop and I have
St. Patrick's; but I believe nothing will come of it,
for stay I will not; and so I believe, for all our
**** ****, you may see me in Dublin before April
ends. I am less out of humour than you would
imagine and if it were not that impertinent people
will condole with me, as they used to give me joy,
I would value it less. But I will avoid company,
and muster up my baggage, and send them next
Monday by the carrier to Chester, and come and
see my willows, against the expectation of all
the world. What care I? Night, dearest rogues,
MD.
14. I dined in the city to-day, and ordered a
lodging to be got ready for me against I came to
pack up my things; for I will leave this end of the
town as soon as ever the warrants for the deaneries
are out, which are yet stopped. Lord-treasurer told
Mr. Lewis that it should be determined to-night:
and so he will say a hundred nights. So he said
yesterday, but I value it not. My daily journals
shall be but short till I get into the city, and then I
will send away this, and follow it myself; and de-
sign to walk it all the way to Chester, my man and
I, by ten miles a-day. It will do my health a great
deal of good. I shall do it in fourteen days. Night,
dear MD.
15. Lord Bolingbroke made me dine with him to-
day; I was as good company as ever; and told me
the queen would determine something for me to-
night. The dispute is, Windsor or St. Patrick's. I
told him I would not stay for their disputes, and he
thought I was in the right. Lord Masham told me
that lady Masham is angry I have not been to see
her since this business, and desires I will come to-
morrow. Night, dear MD.
16. I was this noon at lady Masham's, who was
just come from Kensington, where her eldest son is
sick. She said much to me of what she had talked
to the queen and lord-treasurer. The poor lady
fell a shedding tears openly. She could not bear to
think of my having St. Patrick's, &c. I was never
more moved than to see so much friendship. I
would not stay with her, but went and dined with
Dr. Arbuthnot, with Mr. Berkeley, one of your fel-
lows, whom I have recommended to the doctor and
to lord Berkeley of Stratton. Mr. Lewis telis me
that the duke of Ormond has been to-day with the
queen; and she was content that Dr. Sterne should
be bishop of Dromore and I dean of St. Patrick's;
but then out came lord-treasurer, and said he would
not be satisfied, but that I must be prebendary of
Windsor. Thus he perplexes things. I expect nei-
ther; but I confess, as much as I love England, I
am so angry at this treatment, that, if I had my
choice, I would rather have St. Patrick's. Lady
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
275
Masham says she will speak to the purpose to the
to the purpose to the
queen to-morrow. Night, dear MD.
17. I went to dine at Lady Masham's to-day, and
she was taken ill of a sore throat, and aguish. She
spoke to the queen last night, but had not much
time. The queen says she will determine to-mor-
row with lord-treasurer. The warrants for the
deaneries are still stopped, for fear I should be gone.
Do you think anything will be done? I don't care
whether it is or no. In the mean time I prepare
for my journey, and sce no great people, nor will
see lord-treasurer any more, if I go. Lord-treasurer
told Mr. Lewis it should be done to-night; so he
said five nights ago. Night, MD.
18. This morning Mr. Lewis sent me word that
lord-treasurer told him the queen would determine
at noon. At three lord-treasurer sent to me to come
to his lodgings at St. James's, and told me the
queen was at last resolved that Dr. Sterne should be
bishop of Dromore and I dean of St. Patrick's; and
that Sterne's warrant should be drawn immediately.
You know the deanery is in the duke of Ormond's
gift; but this is concerted between the queen, lord-
treasurer, and the duke of Ormond, to make room
for me. I do not know whether it will yet be done;
some unlucky accident may yet come. Neither can
I feel joy at passing my days in Ireland; and I con-
fess I thought the ministry would not let me go;
but perhaps they can't help it. Night, MD.
19. I forgot to tell you that lord-treasurer forced
me to dine with him yesterday as usual, with his
Saturday company, which I did after frequent re-
fusals. To-day I dined with a private friend, and
was not at court. After dinner Mr. Lewis sent me
word that the queen stayed till she knew whether
the duke of Ormond approved of Sterne for a bishop.
I went this evening and found the duke of Ormond
at the cockpit, and told him, and desired he would
go to the queen and approve of Sterne. He made
objections, and desired I would name any other
deanery, for he did not like Sterne; that Sterne
never went to see him; that he was influenced by
the archbishop of Dublin, &c.; so all is now broken
again. I sent out for lord-treasurer, and told him
this. He says all will do well; but I value not what
he says.
This suspense vexes me worse than any-
thing else. Night, MD.
20. I went to-day, by appointment, to the cock-
pit, to talk with the duke of Ormond. He repeated
the same proposals of any other deanery, &c. I de-
sired he would put me out of the case, and do as he
pleased. Then, with great kindness, he said he
would consent; but would do it for no man alive
but me, &c. And he will speak to the queen to-day
or to-morrow; so, perhaps, something will come of❘
it. I can't tell. Night, own dear MD.
21. The duke of Ormond has told the queen he
is satisfied that Sterne should be bishop, and she
consents I shall be dean; and I suppose the war-
rants will be drawn in a day or two. I dined at an
alehouse with Parnell and Berkeley; for I am not
in humour to go among the ministers, though lord
Dartmouth invited me to dine with him to-day, and
lord-treasurer was to be there. I said I would if I
were out of suspense. Night, dearest MD.
22. The queen says warrants shall be drawn, but
she will dispose of all in England and Ireland at
once, to be teased no more. This will delay it some
time; and, while it is delayed, I am not sure of the
queen, my enemies being busy. I hate this sus-
pense. Night, dear MD.
|
23. I dined yesterday with general Hamilton: I
forgot to tell you. I write short journals now. I'
have eggs on the spit. This
have eggs on the spit. This night the queen nas
signed all the warrants, among which Sterne is
bishop of Dromore, and the duke of Ormond is to
send over an order for making me dean of St. Pa-
trick's. I have no doubt of him at all. I think 'tis
now past. And I suppose MD is malicious enough
to be glad, and rather have it than Wells. But you
see what a condition I am in. I thought I was to
pay but six hundred pounds for the house; but the
bishop of Clogher says cight hundred pounds; first-
fruits one hundred and fifty pounds, and so, with
patent, a thousand pounds in all; so that I shall not
be the better for the deanery these three years. I
hope in some time they will be persuaded here to
give me some money to pay off these debts. I must
finish the book I am writing before I can go over;
and they expect I shall pass next winter here, and
then I will drive them to give me a sum of money.
However, I hope to pass four or five months with
MD, whatever comes of it. I received yours to-
night; just ten weeks since I had your last. I shall
write next post to bishop Sterne. Never man had
so many enemies in Ireland as he. I carried it with
the strongest hand possible. If he does not use me
well and gently in what dealings I shall have with
him, he will be the most ungrateful of mankind.
The archbishop of York [Dr. Sharpe], my mortal
enemy, has sent, by a third hand, that he would be
glad to see me. Shall I see him or not? I hope to
be over in a month, and that MD, with their raillery,
will be mistaken, that I shall make it three years.
I will answer your letter soon, but no more jour-
nals. I shall be very busy. Short letters from
henceforward. I shall not part with Laracor. That
is all I have to live on, except the deanery be worth
more than four hundred pounds a-year. Is it? If
it be, overplus shall be divided *****, besides usual
***** Pray write to me a good-humoured letter
immediately, let it be ever so short. This affair was
carried with great difficutly, which vexes me. But
they say here it is much to my reputation that I have
made a bishop, in spite of all the world, to get the
best deanery in Ireland. Night, dear MD.
****** I made mis-
24. I forgot to tell you I had Sterne's letter yes-
terday, in answer to mine.
takes the last three days, and am forced to alter the
number. I dined in the city to-day with my printer,
and came home early, and am going to be busy with
my work. I will send this to-morrow, and I sup-
pose the warrants will go then. I wrote to Dr.
Coghill to take care of passing my patent; and to
Parvisol to attend him with money, if he has any,
or to borrow some where he can. Night, MD.
25. Morning. I know not whether my warrant
be got
be got ready from the duke of Ormond. I suppose
it will by to-night. I am going abroad, and will
keep this unsealed till I know whether all be finished.
I had this letter all day in my pocket, waiting
till I heard the warrants were gone over. Mr.
Lewis sent to Southwell's clerk at ten, and he said
the bishop of Killaloe [Dr. Thomas Lindsay] had
desired they should be stopped till next post. He
sent again that the bishop of Killaloe's business had
nothing to do with ours. Then I went myself, but
it was past eleven, and asked the reason. Killaloe
is removed to Raphoe, and he has a mind to have
an order for the rents of Raphoe that have fallen due
since the vacancy, and he would have all stop till he
has gotten that. A pretty request! But the clerk,
at Mr. Lewis's message, sent the warrants for Sterne
and me; but then it was too late to send this,
which frets me heartily, that MD should not have
intelligence first from Pdfr. I think to take a
T 2
276
JOURNAL TO STELLA.
hundred pounds a-year out of the deanery and di-
vide between ****, but will talk of that when I come
over. Night, dear MD. Love Pdfr.
26. I was at court to-day, and a thousand people
gave me joy; so I ran out. I dined with lady
Orkney. Yesterday I dined with lord-treasurer and
his Saturday people as usual; and was so bedeaned !
The archbishop of York says he will never more
speak against me. Pray see that Parvisol stirs
about getting my patent. I have given Tooke DD's
note to prove she is alive.
27. Nothing new to-day. I dined with Tom Har-
ley, &c. I'll seal up this to-night. Pray write
Farewell, MD, FW, Me, Lele.
soon.
LETTER THE SIXTY-FOURTH.
London, May 16, 1713.
I HAD yours, No. 40, yesterday. Your new bishop
acts very ungratefully. I cannot say so bad of him
as he deserves. I begged, by the same post his
warrant and mine went over, that he would leave
those livings to my disposal. I shall write this post
to him to let him know how ill I take it. I have
letters to tell me that I ought to think of employing
somebody to set the tithes of the deanery. I know
not what to do at this distance. I cannot be in
Ireland under a month. I will write two orders,
one to Parvisol, and the other to Parvisol and a
blank for whatever fellow the last dean employed;
and I would desire you to advise with friends which
to make use of: and if the latter, let the fellow's
name be inserted, and both act by commission. If
the former, then speak to Parvisol and know whe-
ther he can undertake it. I doubt it is hardly to be
done by a perfect stranger alone, as Parvisol is. He
may perhaps venture at all, to keep up his interest
with me, but that is needless, for I am willing to do
him any good that will do me no harm. Pray
advise with Walls and Raymond, and a little with
bishop Sterne for form. Tell Raymond I cannot
succeed to get him the living of Moimed. It is re-
presented here as a great sinecure. Several chap-
I
lains have solicited for it, and it has vexed me so,
that, if I live, I will make it my business to serve him
better in something else. I am heartily sorry for his
illness, and that of the other two. If it be not ne-
cessary to let the tithes till a month hence you may
keep the two papers and advise well in the mean
time; and whenever it is absolutely necessary, then
give that paper which you are most advised to.
thank Mr. Walls for his letter. Tell him that must
serve for an answer, with my service to him and her.
I shall buy bishop Sterne's hair as soon as his
household goods. I shall be ruined, or at least
sadly cramped, unless the queen will give me a
thousand pounds. I am sure she owes me a great
deal more. Lord-treasurer rallies me upon it, and
I believe intends it; but, quando? I am advised to
hasten over as soon as possible, and so I will, and
hope to set out the beginning of June. Take no
lodging for me. What? at your old tricks again? I
can lie somewhere after I land, and care not where
nor how. I will buy your eggs and bacon, ****
your caps and Bible; and pray think immediately,
and give me some commissions, and I will perform
them. The letter I sent before this was to have
gone a post before, but an accident hindered it, and
I assure you I am very angry MD did not write to
Pdfr, and I think you might have had a dean under
your girdle for the superscription. I have just
finished my treatise, and must be ten days in cor-
recting it. Farewell, dearest MD, FW, Me, Lele.
You'll seal the two papers after my name.
to
"London, May 16, 1713.
"I appoint Mr. Isaiah Parvisol and Mr.
set and let the tithes of the deanery of St. Patrick's
for the present year.
In witness whereof, I have
hereunto set my hand and seal, the day and year
above written.
"
JONAT. SWIFT."
London, May 16, 1713.
"I do hereby appoint Mr. Isaiah Parvisol my
proctor, to set and let the tithes of the deanery of
St. Patrick's. In witness whereof, I have hereunto
set my hand and seal, the day and year above
written.
JONAT. SWIFT."
LETTER THE SIXTY-FIFTH.
Chester, June 6, 1713,
Had
I AM come here after six days. I set out on Mon-
day last, and got here to-day about eleven in the
morning. A noble rider, faith! and all the ships
This was told me, to my comfort, upon my arrival.
and people went off yesterday with a rare wind.
Having not used riding these three years, made me
terrible weary, yet I resolve on Monday to set out
for Holyhead, as weary as I am : 'tis good for my
health, man. When I came here I found MD's
letter of the 26th of May sent down to me.
you written a post sooner I might have brought
some pins, but you were lazy, and could not write
your orders immediately, as I desired you. I will
come when God pleases; perhaps I may be with
you in a week. I will be three days going to Ho-
lyhead; I cannot ride faster, say what you will.
I am upon Stay-behind's mare. I have the whole
inn to myself. I would fain 'scape this Holyhead
journey; but I have no prospect of ships, and it will
be almost necessary I should be in Dublin before the
25th instant, to take the oaths, otherwise I must wait
to a quarter session. I will lodge as I
I will lodge as I can, there-
fore take no lodgings for me to pay in my absence.
The poor dean can't afford it. I spoke again to the
duke of Ormond about Moimed for Raymond, and
hope he may yet have it, for I laid it strongly to the
duke, and gave him the bishop of Meath's memorial.
I am sorry for Raymond's fistula; tell him so. I
will speak to lord-treasurer about Mrs. South to-
morrow. Odso! I forgot; I thought I had been
in London. Mrs. Tisdall is very big, ready to lie
down. Her husband is a puppy. Do his feet stink
still? The letters to Ireland go at so uncertain an
hour that I am forced to conclude. Farewell, MD,
FW, Me, Lele, &c.
His history of the Peace of Utrecht.
277
MEMOIRS
RELATING TO THAT CHANGE WHICH HAPPENED IN QUEEN
ANNE'S MINISTRY IN THE YEAR 1710.
Many particulars in these memoirs are remarkably confirmed
by a publication in which the reader would the least expect
them, in "An Account of the Conduct of the Dowager Duchess
of Marlborough, from her first coming to Court, to the year 1740,
in a letter from herself to my Lord ;" printed in 1742.
HAVING Continued for near the space of four years
in a good degree of confidence with the ministry
then in being, although not with so much power as
was believed, or at least given out by my friends, as
well as by my enemies, especially the latter, in both
houses of parliament; and this having happened
during a very busy period of negotiations abroad
and management of intrigue at home, I thought it
might probably, some years hence, when the present
scene shall have given place to many new ones that
will arise, be an entertainment to those who will
have any personal regard for me or my memory to
set down some particularities which fell under my
knowledge and observation, while I was supposed,
whether truly or not, to have part in the secret of
affairs.
One circumstance I am a little sorry for, that I
was too negligent (against what I had always re-
solved, and blamed others for not doing) in taking
hints, or journals, of every material as it passed,
whereof I omitted many that I cannot now recollect,
although I was convinced by a thousand instances
of the weakness of my memory, But, to say the
truth, the nearer knowledge any man has in the
affairs at court, the less he thinks them of conse-
quence, or worth regarding. And those kind of
passages which I have with curiosity found or
searched for in memoirs, I wholly neglected when
they were freely communicated to me from the first
hand, or were such wherein I acted myself. This I
take to be one among other reasons why great
ministers seldom give themselves the trouble of re-
cording the important parts of that administration
where they themselves are at the head. They have
extinguished all that vanity which usually possesses
men during their first acquaintance at courts; and,
like the masters of a puppet-show, they despise
those motions which fill common spectators with
wonder and delight. However, upon frequently
recollecting the course of affairs during the time I
was either trusted or employed, I am deceived if in
history there can be found any period more full of
passages which the curious of another age would be
glad to know the secret springs of, or whence
more useful instructions may be gathered, for direct-
ing the conduct of those who shall hereafter have
the good or ill fortune to be engaged in business of
the state.
It may probably enough happen that those who
shall at any time hereafter peruse these papers may
think it not suitable to the nature of them, that
upon occasion I sometimes make mention of myself,
who, during these transactions, and ever since, was
a person without titles or public employment. But,
since the chief leaders of the faction, then out of
power, were pleased, in both houses of parliament,
to take every opportunity of showing their malice
by mentioning me (and often by name) as one who
was in the secret of all affairs, and without whose
advice or privity nothing was done, or employment
disposed of, it will not, perhaps, be improper to take
notice of some passages wherein the public and
myself were jointly concerned; not to mention that
the chief cause of giving myself this trouble is to
satisfy my particular friends; and at worst, if, after
the fate of manuscripts, these papers shall, by acci-
dent or indiscretion, fall into the public view, they
will be no more liable to censure than other me-
moirs, published for many years past, in English,
French, and Italian. The period of time I design
to treat on will commence with September, 1710;
from which time, till within two months of the
queen's death, I was never absent from court, except
about six weeks in Ireland.
But, because the great change of employments in
her majesty's family, as well as the kingdom, was
begun some months before, and had been thought
on from the time of Dr. Sacheverel's trial, while I
was absent and lived retired in Ireland, I shall en-
deavour to recollect, as well as I am able, some
particulars I learned from the earl of Oxford, the
lord-viscount Bolingbroke, the lady Masham, and
doctor Atterbury, who were best able to inform me.
I have often, with great earnestness, pressed the
earl of Oxford, then lord- treasurer, and my lady
Masham, who were the sole persons which brought
about that great change, to give me a particular ac-
count of every circumstance and passage during the
whole transaction. Nor did this request proceed
from curiosity, or the ambition of knowing and pub-
lishing important secrets; but from a sincere honest
design of justifying the queen in the measures she
then took, and afterwards pursued, against a load of
scandal, which would certainly be thrown on her
memory with some appearance of truth.
It was
easy to foresee, even at that distance, that the queen
could not live many years; and it was sufficiently
known what party was most in the good graces of
the successor, and, consequently, what turns would
be given by historians to her majesty's proceedings,
under a reign where directly contrary measures
would probably be taken. For instance, what
would be more easy to a malicious pen than to
charge the queen with inconstancy, weakness, and
ingratitude, in removing and disgracing the duke of
Marlborough, who had so many years commanded
her armies with victory and success; in displacing
so many great officers of her court and kingdom, by
whose counsels she had, in all appearance, so pros-
perously governed; in extending the marks of her
severity and displeasure toward the wife and daugh-
ters, as well as relations and allies, of that person
she had so long employed and so highly trusted
and all this by the private intrigues of a woman of
her bedchamber, in concert with an artful man, who
might be supposed to have acted that bold part only
from a motive of revenge upon the loss of his employ-
ments, or of ambition to come again into power?
;
These are some of the arguments I often made
use of, with great freedom, both to the earl of Oxford
and my lady Masham, to incite them to furnish me
with materials for a fair account of that great trans-
action; to which they always seemed as well dis-
posed as myself. My lady Masham did likewise
assure me, that she had frequently informed the
queen of my request, which her majesty thought
very reasonable, and did appear, upon all occasions,
278
MEMOIRS RELATING TO THE CHANGE
as desirous of preserving reputation with posterity
as might justly become a great prince to be. But
that incurable disease, either of negligence or pro-
crastination, which influenced every action both of
the queen and the earl of Oxford, did, in some sort,
infect every one who had credit or business in the
court; for, after soliciting near four years to obtain
a point of so great importance to the queen and her
servants, whence I could propose nothing but
trouble, malice, and envy to myself, it was per-
petually put off.
The scheme I offered was, to write her majesty's
reign; and that this work might not look officious
or affected, I was ready to accept the historiogra-
pher's place, although of inconsiderable value, and
of which I might be sure to be deprived upon the
queen's death. This negligence in the queen, the
earl of Oxford, and my lady Masham, is the cause
that I can give but an imperfect account of the first
springs of that great change at court after the trial
of doctor Sacheverel; my memory not serving me to
retain all the facts related to me: but what re-
member I shall here set down.
There was not perhaps in all England a person
who understood more artificially to disguise her pas-
sions than the late queen. Upon her first coming
to the throne the duchess of Marlborough had lost
all favour with her, as her majesty has often acknow-
ledged to those who have told it me. That lady had
long preserved an ascendant over her mistress while
she was princess; which her majesty, when she
came to the crown, had neither patience to bear
nor spirit to subdue. This princess was so exact an
observer of forms, that she seemed to have made it
her study, and would often descend so low as to ob-
serve, in her domestics of either sex who came into
her presence, whether a ruffle, a periwig, or the
lining of a coat, were unsuitable at certain times.
The duchess, on the other side, who had been used
to great familiarities, could not take it into her head
that any change of station should put her upon
changing her behaviour; the continuance of which
was the more offensive to her majesty, whose other
servants, of the greatest quality, did then treat her
with the utmost respect.
The earl of Godolphin held in favour about three
years longer, and then declined, although he kept
his office till the general change. I have heard
several reasons given for her majesty's early disgust
against that lord. The duchess, who had long been
his friend, often prevailed on him to solicit the queen
upon things very unacceptable to her; which her
majesty liked the worse, as knowing whence they
originally came: and his lordship, although he en-
deavoured to be as respectful as his nature would
permit him, was, upon all occasions, much too arbi-
trary and obtruding.
To the duke of Marlborough she was wholly in-
different (as her nature in general prompted her to
be), until his restless impatient behaviour had
turned her against him.
The queen had not a stock of amity to serve above
one object at a time; and, further than a bare good
or ill opinion, which she soon contracted and
changed, and very often upon light grounds, she
could hardly be said either to love or to hate any-
body. She grew so jealous upon the change of her
servants that often, out of fear of being imposed
upon. by an over-caution she would impose upon
herself she took a delight in refusing those who
were thought to have greatest power with her, even
in the most reasonable things, and such as were
necessary for her service; nor would let them be
done till she fell into the humour of it herself.
|
|
Upon the grounds I have already related, her ma-
jesty had gradually conceived a most rooted aversion
from the duke and duchess of Marlborough and the
earl of Godolphin; which spread in time through all
their allies and relations, particularly to the earl of
Hertford, whose ungovernable temper had made him
fail in his personal respects to her majesty. This
I take to have been the principal ground of the
queen's resolutions to make a change of some officers
both in her family and kingdom; and that these
resolutions did not proceed from any real apprehen-
sion she had of danger to the church or monarchy:
for, although she had been strictly educated in
the former, and very much approved its doctrine and
discipline, yet she was not so ready to foresee any
attempts against it by the party then presiding. But
the fears that most influenced her were such as con-
cerned her own power and prerogative, which those
nearest about her were making daily encroachments
upon, by their undutiful behaviour and unreasonable
demands. The deportment of the duchess of Marl-
borough, while the prince lay expiring, was of such
a nature that the queen, then in the height of grief,
was not able to bear it; but with marks of displea-
sure in her countenance, she ordered the duchess to
withdraw and send Mrs. Masham to her.
I forgot to relate an affair that happened, as I re-
member, about a twelvemonth before prince George's
death. This prince had long conceived an incurable
aversion from that party, and was resolved to use his
utmost credit with the queen his wife to get rid of
them. There fell out an incident which seemed to
favour this attempt; for the queen, resolving to be-
stow a regiment upon Mr. Hill, brother to Mrs.
Masham, signified her pleasure to the duke of Marl-
borough; who, in a manner not very dutiful, refused
his consent, and retired in anger to the country.
After some heats, the regiment was given to a third
person. But the queen resented this matter so
highly, which she thought had been promoted by the
earl of Godolphin, that she resolved immediately to
remove the latter. I was told, and it was then gene-
rally reported, that Mr. St. John carried a letter
from her majesty to the duke of Marlborough, signi-
fying her resolution to take the staff from the earl of
Godolphin, and that she expected his grace's com-
pliance; to which the duke returned a very humble
answer. I cannot engage for this passage, it having
never come into my head to ask Mr. St. John about
it; but the account Mr. Harley and he gave me was,
that the duke of Marlborough and the earl of Godol-
phin had concerted with them upon a moderating
scheme, wherein some of both parties should be em-
ployed, but with a more favourable aspect toward
the church that a meeting was appointed for com-
pleting this work that in the mean time the duke
and duchess of Marlborough and the earl of Godol-
phin were secretly using their utmost efforts with
the queen to turn Mr. Harley (who was then secre-
tary of state) and all his friends out of their em-
ployments: that the queen, on the other side, who
had a great opinion of Mr. Harley's integrity and
abilities, would not consent, and was determined to
remove the earl of Godolphin. This was not above
a month before the season of the year when the duke
of Marlborough was to embark for Flanders; and
the very night in which Mr. Harley and his friends.
had appointed to meet his grace and the earl of Go-
dolphin, George Churchill, the duke's brother, who
was in good credit with the prince, told his highness,
"That the duke was firmly determined to lay down
his command if the earl of Godolphin went out, or
Mr. Harley and his friends were suffered to con-
tinue in." The prince, thus intimidated by
:
IN QUEEN ANNE'S MINISTRY.
279
Churchill, reported the matter to the queen; and,
the time and service pressing, her majesty was un-
willingly forced to yield. The two great lords failed
the appointment; and the next morning the duke,
at his levee, said aloud, in a careless manner, to
those who stood round him, "That Mr. Harley was
turned out."
Upon the prince's death, November 1708, the two
great lords so often mentioned, who had been for
some years united with the low church party, and
had long engaged to take them into power, were
now in a capacity to make good their promises,
which his highness had ever most strenuously op-
posed. The lord Somers was made president of the
council, the earl of Wharton lieutenant of Ireland,
and some others of the same stamp were put into
considerable posts.
to seize the duke at the head of his troops, and bring
him away either dead or alive."
About this time happened the famous trial of Dr.
Sacheverel, which arose from a foolish passionate
pique of the earl of Godolphin, whom this divine
was supposed, in a sermon, to have reflected on un-
der the name of Volpone, as my lord Somers, a few
months after, confessed to me; and, at the same
time, that he had earnestly, and in vain, endeavoured
to dissuade the earl from that attempt. However,
the impeachment went on, in the form and manner
which everybody knows; and, therefore, there need
not be anything said of it here.
Mr. Harley, who came up to town during the
time of the impeachment, was, by the intervention
of Mrs. Masham, privately brought to the queen;
and in some meetings easily convinced her majesty
of the dispositions of her people, as they appeared
in the course of that trial, in favour of the church,
and against the measures of those in her service. It
was not without a good deal of difficulty that Mr.
Harley was able to procure this private access to the
queen; the duchess of Marlborough, by her emissa-
It should seem to me that the duke and earl were
not very willingly drawn to impart so much power
to those of that party, who expected these removals
for some years before, and were always put off upon
pretence of the prince's unwillingness to have them
employed. And I remember, some months before
his highness's death, my lord Somers, who is a per-ries, watching all the avenues to the back-stairs, and
son of reserve enough, complained to me with great
freedom of the ingratitude of the duke and earl, who,
after the service he and his friends had done them
in making the Union, would hardly treat them with
common civility. Neither shall I ever forget that he
readily owned to me that the Union was of no other
service to the nation than by giving a remedy to that
evil which my lord Godolphin had brought upon us
by persuading the queen to pass the Scotch act of
security. But to return from this digression.
Upon the admission of these men into employ-
ments, the court soon ran into extremity of low
church measures; and although, in the house of
commons, Mr. Harley, sir Simon Harcourt, Mr. St.
John, and some others, made great and bold stands
in defence of the constitution, yet they were always
borne down by a majority.
upon all occasions discovering their jealousy of
him; whereof he told me a passage, no otherwise
worth relating than as it gives an idea of an in-
solent, jealous minister, who would wholly engross
the power and favour of his sovereign. Mr. Harley,
upon his removal from the secretary's office, by the
intrigues of the duke of Marlborough and the earl of
Godolphin, as I have above related, going out of
town, was met by the latter of these two lords near
Kensington gate. The earl, in a high fit of jealousy,
goes immediately to the queen, reproaches her for
privately seeing Mr. Harley, and was hardly so civil
as to be convinced by her majesty's frequent pro-
testations to the contrary.
These suspicions, I say, made it hard for her ma-
jesty and Mr. Harley to have private interviews:
neither had he made use of the opportunities he met
It was, I think, during this period of time that the with to open himself so much to her as she seemed
duke of Marlborough, whether by a motive of ambi- to expect, and desired; although Mrs. Masham, in
tion, or a love of money, or by the rash counsels of right of her station in the bedchamber, had taken
his wife the duchess, made that bold attempt of de- all proper occasions of pursuing what Mr. Harley
siring the queen to give him a commission to be had begun. In this critical juncture, the queen,
general for life. Her majesty's answer was, "That hemmed in, and as it were imprisoned, by the
she would take time to consider it ;" and, in the duchess of Marlborough and her creatures, was at a
mean while, the duke advised with the lord Cowper, loss how to proceed. One evening a letter was
then chancellor, about the form in which the com- brought to Mr. Harley, all dirty, and by the hand of
mission should be drawn. The chancellor, very a very ordinary messenger.
He read the super-
much to his honour, endeavoured to dissuade the scription, and saw it was the queen's writing. He
duke from engaging in so dangerous an affair, and sent for the messenger, who said, "He knew not
protested "he would never put the great seal to whence the letter came, but that it was delivered
such a commission." But the queen was highly him by an under-gardener." I forget whether of
alarmed at this extraordinary proceeding in the Hampton Court or Kensington. The letter men-
duke; and talked to a person whom she had taken tioned the difficulties her majesty was under; blam-
into confidence, as if she apprehended an attempt ing him for "not speaking with more freedom and
upon the crown. The duke of Argyle, and one or more particularly, and desiring his assistance.”
two more lords, were (as I have been told) in a very With this encouragement he went more frequently,
private manner brought to the queen. This duke although still as private as possible, to the back-
was under great obligations to the duke of Marl- stairs; and from that time began to have entire
borough, who had placed him in a high station in credit with the queen. He then told her of the
the army, preferred many of his friends, and pro- dangers to her crown, as well as to the church and
cured him the garter. But his unquiet and ambitious monarchy itself, from the counsels and actions of
spirit, never easy while there was any one above some of her servants: "That she ought gradually to
him, made him, upon some trifling resentments, lessen the exorbitant power of the duke and duchess
conceive an inveterate hatred against his general. of Marlborough and the earl of Godolphin,
When he was consulted what course should be taken | taking the disposition of employments into her own
upon the duke of Marlborough's request to be gene-
ral for life, and whether any danger might be appre-
hended from the refusal, I was told he suddenly
answered, "That her majesty need not be in pain,
for he would undertake, whenever she commanded,
by
hands that it did not become her to be a slave
to a party, but to reward those who may deserve by
their duty and loyalty, whether they were such as
were called of the high church or low church." In
short, whatever views he had then in his own breast,
280
MEMOIRS RELATING TO THE CHANGE
or how far soever he intended to proceed, the turn
of his whole discourse was intended, in appearance,
only to put the queen upon what they called a mo-
derating scheme; which, however, made so strong
an impression upon her, that when this minister, led
by the necessity of affairs, the general disposition of
the people, and probably by his own inclinations,
put her majesty upon going greater lengths than she
had first intended, it put him upon innumerable dif-
ficulties, and some insuperable; as we shall see in
the progress of this change.
Her majesty, pursuant to Mr. Harley's advice, re-
solved to dispose of the first great employment that
fell, according to her own pleasure, without consult-
ing any of her ministers. To put this in execution,
To put this in execution,
an opportunity soon happened, by the death of the
earl of Essex, whereby the lieutenancy of the Tower
became vacant. It was agreed between the queen
and Mr. Harley that the earl Rivers should go im-
mediately to the duke of Marlborough and desire his
grace's good offices with the queen to procure him
that post. The earl went accordingly; was received
with abundance of professions of kindness by the
duke, who said, "The lieutenancy of the Tower
was not worth his lordship's acceptance ;" and de-
sired him to think of something else. The earl still
insisted, and the duke still continued to put him off;
at length, lord Rivers desired his grace's consent to
let him go himself and beg this favour of the queen;
and hoped he might tell her majesty "his grace had
no objection to him." All this the duke readily
agreed to, as a matter of no consequence. The earl
went to the queen, who immediately gave orders for
his commission. He had not long left the queen's
presence, when the duke of Marlborough, suspecting
nothing that would happen, went to the queen, and
told her, "The lieutenancy of the Tower falling void
by the death of the earl of Essex, he hoped her ma-
jesty would bestow it upon the duke of Northum-
berland, and give the Oxford regiment, then com-
manded by that duke, to the earl of Hertford." The
queen said "He was come too late; that she had
already granted the lieutenancy to earl Rivers, who
had told her that he (the duke) had no objection to
him."
The duke, much surprised at this new man-
ner of treatment, and making complaints in her ma-
jesty's presence, was, however, forced to submit.
The queen went on by slow degrees. Not to
mention some changes of lesser moment, the duke of
Kent was forced to compound for his chamberlain's
staff, which was given to the duke of Shrewsbury,
while the earl of Godolphin was out of town, I think
at Newmarket. His lordship, on the first news,
came immediately up to court; but the thing was
done, and he made as good a countenance to the
duke of Shrewsbury as he was capable of. The cir-
cumstances of the earl of Sunderland's removal, and
the reasons alleged, are known enough. His un-
governable temper had overswayed him to fail in his
respects to her majesty's person.
Meantime both parties stood at gaze, not knowing
to what these steps would lead, or where they would
end. The earl of Wharton, then in Ireland, being
deceived by various intelligence from hence, endea-
voured to hide his uneasiness as well as he could.
Some of his sanguine correspondents had sent him
word that the queen began to stop her hand, and the
church party to despond. At the same time the duke
of Shrewsbury happened to send him a letter filled
with great expressions of civility. The earl was so
weak, upon reading it, as to cry out, before two or
three standers-by, "Damn him, he is making fair
weather with me; but, by G-d, I will have his
head." But these short hopes were soon blasted,
by taking the treasurer's staff from the earl of
Godolphin; which was done in a manner not very
gracious, her majesty sending him a letter, by a very
ordinary messenger, commanding him to break it.
The treasury was immediately put into commission,
with earl Poulett at the head; but Mr. Harley, who
was one of the number, and at the same time made
chancellor of the exchequer, was already supposed
to preside behind the curtain.
Upon the fall of that great minister and favourite,
that whole party became dispirited, and seemed to
expect the worst that could follow. The earl of
Wharton immediately desired and obtained leave to
come for England; leaving that kingdom, where he
had behaved himself with the utmost profligateness,
injustice, arbitrary proceedings, and corruption, with
the hatred and detestation of all good men, even of
his own party.
And here, because my coming into the knowledge
of the new ministry began about this time, I must
digress a little, to relate some circumstances previ-
ous to it.
Although I had been for many years before no
stranger at court, and had made the nature of go-
vernment a great part of my study, yet I had dealt
very little with politics, either in writing or acting,
until about a year before the late king William's
death; when, returning with the earl of Berkeley
from Ireland, and falling upon the subject of the five
great lords who were then impeached, for high crimes
and misdemeanors, by the house of commons, I
happened to say, "That the same manner of pro-
ceeding, at least appeared to me from the news we
received of it in Ireland, had ruined the liberties of
Athens and Rome; and that it might be easy to
prove it from history." Soon after I went to London;
and, in a few weeks, drew up a discourse, under
the title of "The Contests and Dissensions of the
Nobles and Commons in Athens and Rome, with
the Consequences they had upon both those States."
This discourse I sent very privately to the press, with
the strictest injunctions to conceal the author, and
returned immediately to my residence in Ireland.
The book was greedily bought and read; and
charged some time upon my lord Somers, and some
time upon the bishop of Salisbury; the latter of
whom told me afterward, "That he was forced to
disown it in a very public manner, for fear of an
impeachment, wherewith he was threatened."
Returning next year for England, and hearing
of the great approbation this piece had received
(which was the first I ever printed), I must confess,
the vanity of a young man prevailed with me to let
myself be known for the author: upon which my
lords Somers and Halifax, as well as the bishop above
mentioned, desired my acquaintance, with great
marks of esteem and professions of kindness-not
to mention the earl of Sunderland, who had been
my old acquaintance. They lamented that they were
not able to serve me since the death of the king;
and were very liberal in promising me the greatest
preferments I could hope for, if ever it came in their
power.
power. I soon grew domestic with lord Halifax,
and was as often with lord Somers as the formality of
his nature (the only unconversable fault he had)
made it agreeable to me.
It was then I began to trouble myself with the
differences between the principles of Whig and Tory;
having formerly employed myself in other, and I think
much better speculations. I talked often upon this
subject with lord Somers; told him, "That, having
been long conversant with the Greek and Roman
authors, and therefore a lover of liberty, I found
myself much inclined to be what they call a Whig
IN QUEEN ANNE'S MINISTRY.
281
in politics; and that, besides, I thought it impossible
upon any other principle to defend or submit to the
Revolution: but as to religion, I confessed myself to be
a high churchman, and that I did not conceive how any
one who wore the habit of a clergyman could be other-
wise that I had observed very well with what inso-
lence and haughtiness some lords of the high-church
party treated not only their own chaplains, but all other
clergymen whatsoever, and thought this was suffici-
ently recompensed by their professions of zeal to the
church that I had likewise observed how the Whig
lords took a direct contrary measure, treated the
persons of particular clergymen with great courtesy,
but showed much ill will and contempt for the order
in general: that I knew it was necessary for their
party to make their bottom as wide as they could, by
taking all denominations of protestants to be mem-
bers of their body: that I would not enter into the
mutual reproaches made by the violent men on either
side; but that the connivance or encouragement
given by the Whigs to those writers of pamphlets,
who reflected upon the whole body of the clergy
without any exception would unite the church, as
one man, to oppose them: and that I doubted his
lordship's friends did not consider the consequence
of this."
My lord Somers in appearance entered very warmly
into the same opinion, and said very much of the
endeavours he had often used to redress that evil I
complained of. This his lordship, as well as my lord
Halifax (to whom I have talked in the same manner),
can very
well remember: and I have indeed been
told by an honourable gentleman of the same party
"That both their lordships, about the time of lord
Godolphin's removal, did, upon occasion, call to
mind what I had said to them five years before."
In my journeys to England I continued upon the
same foot of acquaintance with the two lords last
mentioned until the time of prince George's death;
when the queen, who, as is before related, had for
some years favoured that party, now made lord
Somers president of the council, and the earl of
Wharton lieutenant of Ireland. Being then in
London, I received letters from some bishops of
Ireland to solicit the earl of Wharton about the
remittal of the first-fruits and tenths to the clergy
there, which the queen had long promised, and
wherein I had been employed before, with some
hopes of success from the earl of Godolphin. It
was the first time I ever was in company with the
earl of Wharton: he received me with sufficient
coldness, and answered the request I made in behalf
of the clergy from very poor and lame excuses, which |
amounted to a refusal. I complained of this usage
to lord Somers, who would needs bring us together
to his house, and presented me to him; where he
received me as drily as before.
It was everybody's opinion that the earl of Whar-
ton would endeavour, when he went to Ireland, to
take off the test, as a step to have it taken off here;
upon which, I drew up and printed a pamphlet, by
way of a letter from a member of parliament here,
showing the danger to the church by such an intent.
Although I took all care to be private, yet the lieute-
nant's chaplain, and some others, guessed me to be
the author, and told his excellency their suspicions;
whereupon I saw him no more until I went to Ire-
land. At my taking leave of lord Somers, he desired
I would carry a letter from him to the earl of
Wharton, which I absolutely refused; yet he ordered
it to be left at my lodgings. I stayed some months
in Leicestershire, went to Ireland, and immediately
upon my landing retired to my country parish with
out seeing the lieutenant or any other person, re-
solving to send him lord Somers's letter by the post.
But, being called up to town by the incessant in-
treaties of my friends, I went and delivered my letter,
During the greatest
and immediately withdrew.
part of his government I lived in the country, saw
the lieutenant very seldom when I came to town,
nor ever entered into the least degree of confidence
with him, or his friends, except his secretary, Mr.
Addison, who had been my old and intimate acquaint-
Upon the news of great changes here, he
affected very much to caress me; which I understood
well enough to have been an old practice with him,
in order to render men odious to the church party.
ance.
I mention these insignificant particulars, as it will
be easily judged, for some reasons that are purely
personal to myself; it having been objected by seve-
ral of those poor pamphleteers, who have blotted so
much paper to show their malice against me, that I
was a favourer of the low party; whereas it has been
manifest to all men that, during the highest domi-
nion of that faction, I had published several tracts
in opposition to the measures then taken; for in-
stance, "A Project for the Reformation of Manners,
in a Letter to the Countess of Berkeley;" "The
"An
Sentiments of a Church-of-England Man;"
Argument against abolishing Christianity;" and
lastly, "A Letter to a Member of Parliament against
taking off the Test in Ireland," which I have already
mentioned to have been published at the time the
earl of Wharton was setting out to his government
of that kingdom. But those who are loud and violent
in coffeehouses, although generally they do a cause
more hurt than good, yet will seldom allow any other
merit; and it is not to such as these that I attempt
to vindicate myself.
About the end of August, 1710, I went for Eng-
land, at the desire and by the appointment of the
archbishops and bishops of that kingdom, under
whose hands I had a commission to solicit, in con-
junction with two bishops who were then in London,
the first-fruits and tenths to the clergy, which had
been many years solicited in vain. Upon my ar-
rival in town I found the two bishops were gone
into the country, whereupon I got myself introduced
to Mr. Harley, who was then chancellor of the ex-
He received
chequer, and acted as first minister.
me with great kindness; told me "that he and his
friends had long expected my arrival;" and, upon
showing my commission, immediately undertook to
perform it, which he accordingly did in less than
three weeks, having settled it at five meetings with
the queen, according to the scheme I offered him,
and got me the queen's promise for a further and more
important favour to the clergy of Ireland, which the
bishops there, deceived by misinformation not worth
mentioning in this paper, prevented me from bringing
to a good issue.
When the affair of the first-fruits was fully de-
spatched, I returned my humble thanks to Mr.
Harley, in the name of the clergy of Ireland, and in
my own, and offered to take my leave, as intending
Mr. Har-
immediately to return to that kingdom.
ley told me "He and his friends knew very well
what useful things I had written against the prin-
ciples of the late discarded faction, and that my per-
sonal esteem for several among them would not
make me a favourer of their cause: that there was
now entirely a new scene: that the queen was re-
solved to employ none but those who were friends
to the constitution of church and state: that their
great difficulty lay in the want of some good pen,
to keep up the spirit raised in the people, to assert
the principles and justify the proceedings of the new
ministers." Upon that subject he fell into some
282
MEMOIRS RELATING TO THE CHANGE
personal civilities, which will not become me to
repeat. He added, "That this province was in the
hands of several persons, among whom some were
too busy, and others too idle, to pursue it ;" and con-
cluded, "That it should be his particular care to
establish me here in England, and represent me to
the queen as a person they could not be without."
I promised to do my endeavours in that way for
some few months. To which he replied, "He ex-
pected no more, and that he had other and greater
occasions for me."
Upon the rise of this ministry, the principal per-
sons in power thought it necessary that some weekly
paper should be published, with just reflections upon
former proceedings, and defending the present mea-
sures of her majesty. This was begun about the
time of the lord Godolphin's removal, under the
name of The Examiner. About a dozen of these
About a dozen of these
papers, written with much spirit and sharpness,
some by Mr. secretary St. John, since lord Boling-
broke; others by Dr. Atterbury, since bishop of
Rochester; and others again by Mr. Prior, Dr.
Freind, &c., were published with great applause.
But these gentlemen being grown weary of the
work, or otherwise employed, the determination was
that I should continue it, which I did accordingly
about eight months. But my style being soon dis-
covered, and having contracted a great number of
enemies, I let it fall into other hands, who held it
up in some manner until her majesty's death.
It was Mr. Harley's custom every Saturday that
four or five of his most intimate friends among those
he had taken in upon the great change made at
court should dine at his house, and after about two
months' acquaintance I had the honour always to be
one of the number. This company, at first, consisted
only of the lord-keeper Harcourt, the earl Rivers,
the earl of Peterborough, Mr. secretary St. John,
and myself; and here, after dinner, they used to dis-
course and settle matters of great importance. Se-
veral other lords were afterward, by degrees, ad-
mitted; as the dukes of Ormond, Shrewsbury, and
Argyle; the earls of Anglesey, Dartmouth, and Pou-
lett; the lord Berkeley, &c. These meetings were
always continued, except when the queen was at
Windsor; but, as they grew more numerous, became
of less consequence, and ended only in drinking and
general conversation, of which I may perhaps have
occasion to speak hereafter.
My early appearance at these meetings, which
many thought to be of greater consequence than
really they were, could not be concealed, although
I used all my endeavours to that purpose. This
gave the occasion to some great men, who thought
me already in the secret, to complain to me of the
suspicions entertained by many of our friends in re-
lation to Mr. Harley, even before he was lord-trea-
surcr; so early were sown those seeds of discontent
which afterwards grew up so high! The cause of
complaint was, that so great a number of the adverse
party continued in employment, and some, particu-
larly the duke of Somerset and earl Cholmondeley,
in great stations at court.-They could not believe
Mr. Harley was in earnest; but that he designed to
constitute a motley comprehensive administration,
which, they said, the kingdom would never endurc.
I was once invited to a meeting of some lords and
gentlemen, where these grievances were at large
related to me, with an earnest desire that I would
represent them in the most respectful manner to Mr.
Harley, upon a supposition that I was in high credit
with him. I excused myself from such an office,
upon the newness of my acquaintance with Mr.
Harley. However, I represented the matter fairly
to him, against which he argued a good deal from
the general reasons of politicians, the necessity o.
keeping men in hopes, the danger of disobliging
those who must remain unprovided for, and the like
usual topics among statesmen. But there was a
secret in this matter which neither I, nor indeed
any of his most intimate friends, were then apprised
of; neither did he, at that time, enter with me fur-
ther than to assure me very solemnly "that no
person should have the smallest employment, either
civil or military, whose principles were not firm for
the church and monarchy."
However, these over-moderate proceedings in the
court gave rise to a party in the house of commons,
which appeared under the name of the October Club;
a fantastic appellation, found out to distinguish a
number of country gentlemen and their adherents,
who professed, in the greatest degree, what was
called the high church principle. They grew in
number to almost a third part of the house, held
their meetings at certain times and places, and there
concerted what measures they were to take in par-
liament. They professed their jealousy of the court
and ministry; declared, upon all occasions, their de-
sire of a more general change, as well as of a strict
inquiry into former mismanagement, and seemed to
expect that those in power should openly avow the
old principles in church and state. I was then of
opinion, and still continue so, that if this body of
men could have remained some time united, they
would have put the crown under a necessity of act-
ing in a more steady and strenuous manner. But
Mr. Harley, who best knew the disposition of the
queen, was forced to break their measures, which
he did by that very obvious contrivance of dividing
them among themselves and rendering them jealous
of each other. The ministers gave everywhere out
that the October Club were their friends, and acted
by their directions; to confirm which, Mr. secretary
St. John, and Mr. Bromley, afterwards chancellor
of the exchequer, publicly dined with them at one of
their meetings. Thus were eluded all the conse-
quences of that assembly, although a remnant of
them, who conceived themselves betrayed by the rest,
did afterward meet under the denomination of the
March Club, but without any effect.
The parliament which then rose had been chosen
without any endeavours from the court to secure
elections; neither, as I remember, were any of the
lieutenancies changed throughout the kingdom, for
the trial of Dr. Sacheverel had raised or discovered
such a spirit in all parts, that the ministers could very
safely leave the electors to themselves, and thereby
gain a reputation of acting by a free parliament.
Yet this proceeding was, by some refiners of both
parties, numbered among the strains of Mr. Harley's
politics, who was said to avoid an over-great ma-
jority, which is apt to be unruly, and not enough
under the management of a ministry. But, from
the small experience I have of courts, I have ever
found refinements to be the worst sort of all con-
jectures; and, from this one occasion, I take leave to
observe, that of some hundreds of facts, for the real
truth of which I can account, I never yet knew any
refiner to be once in the right. I have already told
that the true reason why the court did not interpose
in the matter of election was, because they thought
themselves sure of a majority, and therefore could
acquire reputation at a cheap rate. Besides, it af-
terwards appeared, upon some exigencies which the
court had much at heart, that they were more than
once likely to fail for want of numbers. Mr. Har-
ley, in order to give credit to his administration,
resolved upon two very important points: first, to
IN QUEEN ANNE'S MINISTRY.
283
secure the unprovided debts of the nation; and
Of the methods
secondly, to put an end to the war.
he took to compass both those ends I have treated
at large in another work. I shall only observe that,
while he was preparing to open to the house of
commons his scheme for securing the public debts,
he was stabbed by the marquis de Guiscard, while
he was sitting in the council-chamber at the Cock-
pit, with a committee of nine or ten lords of the
cabinet, met on purpose to examine the marquis,
upon a discovery of a treasonable correspondence he
held with France.
proper
This fact was so uncommon in the manner and
circumstances of it, that, although it be pretty well
known at the time I am now writing, by a printed
account, toward which I furnished the author with
some materials, yet I thought it would not be
The assassin was seized, by
wholly to omit it here.
Mr. Harley's order, upon the 8th of March, 1710-11;
and, brought before the committee of lords, was ex-
amined about his corresponding with France. Upon
his denial, Mr. Harley produced a letter, which he
could not deny to be his own hand. The marquis,
prepared for mischief, had conveyed a penknife into
his pocket while the messenger kept him attending
in one of the offices below. Upon the surprise of
his letter appearing against him, he came suddenly
behind Mr. Harley, and, reaching his arm round,
stabbed that minister into the middle of the breast,
about a quarter of an inch above the cartilago ensi-
formis; the penknife, striking upon the bone, and
otherwise obstructed by a thick embroidered waist-
coat, broke short at the handle, which Guiscard
still grasped, and redoubled his blow.
fusion upon this accident is easier conceived than
described. The result was, that the marquis, whe-
ther by the wounds given him by some of the lords,
or the bruises he received from the messengers while
they were seizing him, or the neglect of his surgeon,
or that, being unwilling to live, he industriously
concealed one of his wounds, died in a few days
after. But Mr. Harley, after a long illness and
frequent ill symptoms, had the good fortune to
recover.
The con-
Guiscard was the younger brother of the count of
that name, a very honourable and worthy person,
formerly governor of Namur. But this marquis
was a reproach to his family, prostitute in his morals,
a History of the Four Last Years, &c.
impious in religion, and a traitor to his prince; as
to the rest, of a very poor understanding, and the
most tedious trifling talker I ever conversed with.
He was grown needy by squandering upon his vices,
was become contemptible both here and in Holland,
his regiment taken from him, and his pension re-
trenched; the despair of which first put him upon
his French correspondence; and the discovery of
that drove him into madness. I had known him
some years; and, meeting him upon the Mall a few
hours before his examination, I observed to a friend
then with me, "That I wondered to see Guiscard
pass so often by without taking notice of me." But
although, in the latter part of his life, his counte-
nance grew cloudy enough, yet I confess I never
suspected him to be a man of resolution or courage
sufficient to bear him out in so desperate an attempt.
I have some very good reasons to know that the
first misunderstanding between Mr. Harley and Mr
St. John, which afterward had such unhappy con-
sequences upon the public affairs, took its rise during
the time that the former lay ill of his wounds, and
his recovery doubtful. Mr. St. John affected to say
in several companies, "That Guiscard intended th
blow against him;" which, if it were true, the con
sequence must be, that Mr. St. John had all the
merit, while Mr. Harley remained with nothing but
the danger and the pain. But I am apt to think
Mr. St. John was either mistaken or misinformed.
However, the matter was thus represented in the
weekly paper called The Examiner; which Mr. St.
John perused before it was printed, but made no
alteration in that passage.
This management was looked upon, at least, as a
piece of youthful indiscretion in Mr. St. John; and,
perhaps, was represented in a worse view to Mr.
Harley. Neither am I altogether sure that Mr. St.
John did not entertain some prospect of succeeding
as first minister, in case of Mr. Harley's death;
which, during his illness, was frequently appre-
And I remember very well, that, upon
hended.
visiting Mr. Harley as soon as he was in a condition
to be seen, I found several of his nearest relations
talk very freely of some proceedings of Mr. St. John;
enough to make me apprehend that their friendship
would not be of any long continuance.
Mr. Harley, soon after his recovery, was made
an earl, and lord-treasurer; and the lord-keeper a
baron.
A DISCOURSE OF THE CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS
BETWEEN THE
NOBLES AND THE COMMONS IN ATHENS AND ROME.
WITH THE CONSEQUENCES THEY HAD UPON BOTH THOSE STATES.
Si tibi vera videtur,
Dede manus, et si falsa est, accingere contra.—LUCR.
THIS whole treatise is full of historical knowledge and ex-
cellent reflections. It is not mixed with any improper sallies
of wit, or any light aim at humour; and in point of style
and learning is equal, if not superior, to any of Swift's poli-
tical works.-ORRERY.
The following discourse is a kind of remonstrance in behalf
of king William and his friends, against the proceedings of
the house of commons; and was published during the recess of
parliament in the summer of 1701, with a view to engage them
in milder measures, when they should meet again.
At this time Lewis XIV. was making large strides toward
universal monarchy; plots were carrying on at St. Germains;
the Dutch had acknowledged the duke of Anjou as king of Spain;
and king William was made extremely uneasy by the violence
with which many of his ministers and chief favourites were
pursued by the commons. The king, to appease their resent-
ment, had made several changes in his ministry, and removed
some of his most faithful servants from places of the highest
trust and dignity; this expedient, however, had proved inef-
fectual, and the commons persisted in their opposition. They
began by impeaching William Bentinck, earl of Portland, groom
of the stole ; and proceeded to the impeachment of John Somers,
baron Somers of Evesham, first lord-keeper, afterwards lord-
chancellor Edward Russell, earl of Orford, lord-treasurer of
the navy, and one of the lords commissioners of the Admiralty;
and Charles Montague, earl of Halifax, one of the commis-
sioners of the treasury aud afterward chancellor of the ex-
chequer. Its general purport is to damp the warmth of the
commons, by showing that the measures they pursued had a
direct tendency to bring on the tyranny which they professed
to oppose; and the particular cases of the impeached lords are
paralleled in Athenian characters.
284
CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS
CHAPTER I.
Ir is agreed that in all government there is an ab-
solute unlimited power which naturally and origin-
ally seems to be placed in the whole body, wherever
the executive part of it lies. This holds in the body
natural; for wherever we place the beginning of
motion, whether from the head, or the heart, or the
animal spirits in general, the body moves and acts
by a consent of all its parts. This unlimited power,
placed fundamentally in the body of a people, is
what the best legislators of all ages have endea-
voured, in their several schemes or institutions of
government, to deposit in such hands as would pre-
serve the people from rapine and oppression within,
as well as violence from without. Most of them
seem to agree in this, that it was a trust too great to
be committed to any one man or assembly, and,
therefore, they left the right still in the whole body;
but the administration or executive part, in the
hands of the one, the few, or the many; into which
three powers all independent bodies of men seem
naturally to divide; for, by all I have read of those
innumerable and petty commonwealths in Italy,
Greece, and Sicily, as well as the great ones of
Carthage and Rome, it seems to me that a free
people met together, whether by compact or family
government, as soon as they fall into any acts of
civil society, do of themselves divide into three
powers. The first is that of some one eminent
spirit, who, having signalised his valour and fortune
in defence of his country, or by the practice of po-
pular arts at home, comes to have great influence
on the people, to grow their leader in warlike ex-
peditions, and to preside, after a sort, in their civil
assemblies; and this is grounded upon the principles
of nature and common reason, which, in all difficul-
ties or dangers, where prudence or courage is re-
quired, rather incite us to fly for counsel or assist-
ance to a single person than a multitude.
second natural division of power is, of such men
who have acquired large possessions, and conse-
quently dependencies, or descend from ancestors
who have left them great inheritances, together with
an hereditary authority. These, easily uniting in
thoughts and opinions, and acting in concert, begin
to enter upon measures for securing their properties,
which are best upheld by preparing against invasions
from abroad, and maintaining peace at home; this
commences a great council, or senate of nobles, for
the weighty affairs of the nation. The last division
is, of the mass or body of the people, whose part of
power is great and indisputable, whenever they can
unite, either collectively or by deputation, to exert
it. Now the three forms of government, so gene-
rally known in the schools, differ only by the civil
administration being placed in the hands of one,
or sometimes two (as in Sparta), who were called
kings; or in a senate, who were called the nobles;
or in the people collective or representative, who
may be called the commons. Each of these had
frequently the executive power in Greece, and some-
times in Rome; but the power in the last resort was
always meant by legislators to be held in balance
among all three. And it will be an eternal rule in
politics among every free people, that there is a
balance of power to be carefully held by every state
within itself, as well as among several states with
each other.
The
The true meaning of a balance of power, either
without or within a state, is best conceived by con-
sidering what the nature of a balance is. It sup-
poses three things: first, the part which is held, to-
gether with the hand that holds it; and then the
two scales, with whatever is weighed therein. Now,
consider several states in a neighbourhood; in order
to preserve peace between these states, it is neces-
sary they should be formed into a balance, whereof
one or more are to be directors, who are to divide
the rest into equal scales, and, upon occasion, remove
from one into the other, or else fall with their own
weight into the lightest; so in a state within
itself, the balance must be held by a third hand,
who is to deal the remaining power with the utmost
exactness into the several scales. Now, it is not
necessary that the power should be equally divided
between these three; for the balance may be held
by the weakest, who, by his address and conduct,
removing from either scale, and adding of his own,
may keep the scales duly poised. Such was that of
the two kings of Sparta, the consular power in
Rome, that of the kings of Media before the reign
of Cyrus, as represented by Xenophon; and that of
the several limited states in the Gothic institution.
When the balance is broken, whether by the neg-
ligence, folly, or weakness of the hand that held it,
or by mighty weights fallen into either scale, the
power will never continue long in equal division
between the two remaining parties, but, till the
balance is fixed anew, will run entirely into one.
This gives the truest account of what is understood
in the most ancient and approved Greek authors by
the word Tyranny; which is not meant for the
seizing of the uncontrolled or absolute power into
the hands of a single person (as many superficial
men have grossly mistaken), but for the breaking of
the balance by whatever hand, and leaving the
power wholly in one scale: for, tyranny and usurpa-
tion in a state are by no means confined to any
number, as might easily appear from examples
enough; and, because the point is material, I shall
cite a few to prove it.
The Romans [Dionys. Hal. lib. 10], having sent
to Athens and the Greek cities of Italy for the
copies of the best laws, chose ten legislators to put
them into form, and during the exercise of their
office suspended the consular power, leaving the
administration of affairs in their hands. These
very men, though chosen for such a work as the
digesting a body of laws for the government of a free
state, did immediately usurp arbitrary power, ran
into all the forms of it, had their guards and spies
after the practice of the tyrants of those ages, af-
fected kingly state, destroyed the nobles, and op-
pressed the people; one of them proceeding so far
as to endeavour to force a lady of great virtue: the
very crime which gave occasion to the expulsion of
the regal power but sixty years before, as this at-
tempt did to that of the Decemviri.
The Ephori in Sparta were at first only certain
persons deputed by the kings to judge in civil mat-
ters, while they were employed in the wars. These
men, at several times, usurped the absolute autho-
rity, and were as cruel tyrants as any in their age.
Soon after the unfortunate expedition into Sicily
[Thucyd. lib. 8] the Athenians chose four hundred
men for administration of affairs, who became a body
of tyrants, and were called, in the language of those
ages, an oligarchy, or tyranny of the few; under
which hateful denomination they were soon after
deposed in great rage by the people.
When Athens was subdued by Lysander [Xenoph.
de Rebus Græc. 1. 2] he appointed thirty men for
the administration of that city, who immediately fell.
into the rankest tyranny; but this was not all; for,
conceiving their power not founded on
a basis
large enough, they admitted three thousand into
a share of the government; and, thus fortified, be-
came the cruellest tyranny upon record. They mur-
IN ATHENS AND ROME.
285
dered in cold blood great numbers of the best men,
without any provocation, from the mere lust of
cruelty, like Nero or Caligula. This was such a
number of tyrants together as amounted to near a
third part of the whole city; for Xenophon tells us
[Memorab. lib. 3] that the city contained about
ten thousand houses; and allowing one man to
every house who could have any share in the govern-
ment (the rest consisting of women, children, and
servants), and making other obvious abatements,
these tyrants, if they had been careful to adhere to-
gether, might have been a majority even of the peo-
ple collective.
In the time of the second Punic war [Polyb. Frag.
lib. 6 the balance of power in Carthage was got
on the side of the people; and this to a degree, that
some authors reckon the government to have been
then among them a dominatio plebis, or tyranny of
the commons; which it seems they were at all times
apt to fall into, and was at last among the causes
that ruined their state: and the frequent murders of
their generals, which Diodorus [lib. 20] tells us
was grown to an established custom among them,
may be another instance that tyranny is not confined
to numbers.
I shall mention but one example more among a
great number that might be produced; it is related
by the author last cited [Polyb. Frag. lib. 15]. The
orators of the people at Argos (whether you will
style them, in modern phrase, great speakers of the
house, or only, in general, representatives of the
people collective) stirred up the commons against
the nobles, of whom 1600 were murdered at once;
and at last, the orators themselves, because they left
off their accusations, or, to speak intelligibly, be-
cause they withdrew their impeachments, having, it
seems, raised a spirit they were not able to lay.
And this last circumstance, as cases have lately stood,
may perhaps be worth nothing.
From what has been already advanced several con-
clusions may be drawn :-
First, that a mixed government, partaking of the
known forms received in the schools, is by no means
of Gothic invention, but has place in nature and
reason, seems very well to agree with the senti-
ments of most legislators, and to have been followed
in most states, whether they have appeared under
the name of monarchies, aristocracies, or democra-
cies; for, not to mention the several republics of this
composition in Gaul and Germany, described by
Cæsar and Tacitus, Polybius tells us the best go-
vernment is that which consists of three forms, regis,
optimatium, et populi imperio [Frag. lib. 6], which
may be fairly translated, the king, lords, and com-
mons. Such was that of Sparta, in its primitive in-
stitution by Lycurgus, who, observing the corruptions
and depravations to which every of these was sub-
ject, compounded his scheme out of all, so that it
was made up of reges, seniores, et populus. Such
also was the state of Rome under its consuls; and
the author tells us that the Romans fell upon this
model purely by chance (which I take to have been
nature and common reason), but the Spartans by
thought and design. And such at Carthage was the
summa reipublicæ [ibid.], or power in the last resort;
for they had their kings, called suffetes, and a senate,
which had the power of nobles, and the people had
a share established too.
Secondly, it will follow that those reasoners who
employ so much of their zeal, their wit, and their
leisure, for the upholding the balance of power in
Christendom, at the same time that by their prac-
tices they are endeavouring to destroy it at home,
are not such mighty patriots, or so much in the true
interest of their country, as they would affect to be
thought; but seem to be employed like a man who
pulls down with his right hand what he has been
building with his left.
Thirdly, this makes appear the error of those who
think it an uncontrollable maxim that power is
always safer lodged in many hands than in one : for,
if these many hands be made up only from one of
the three divisions before mentioned, it is plain from
those examples already produced, and easy to be
paralleled in other ages and countries, that they are
capable of enslaving the nation, and of acting all
manner of tyranny and oppression, as it is possible
for a single person to be, though we should suppose
their number not only to be of four or five hundred,
but above three thousand.
Again, it is manifest, from what has been said,
that, in order to preserve the balance in a mixed
state, the limits of power deposited with each party
ought to be ascertained and generally known. The
defect of this is the cause that introduces those strug-
glings in a state about prerogative and liberty;
about encroachments of the few upon the rights of
the many, and of the many upon the privileges of
the few, which ever did, and ever will, conclude in
a tyranny; first, either of the few or the many; but
at last, infallibly of a single person: for, whichever
of the three divisions in a state is upon the scramble
for more power than its own (as one or other of
them generally is), unless due care be taken by the
other two, upon every new question that arises, they
will be sure to decide in favour of themselves, talk
much of inherent right; they will nourish up a
dormant power, and reserve privileges in petto, to
exert upon occasions, to serve expedients, and to
urge upon necessities; they will make large de-
mands and scanty concessions, ever coming off con-
siderable gainers: thus at length the balance is
broke and tyranny let in; from which door of the
three it matters not.
To pretend to a declarative right, upon any occa-
sion whatsoever, is little less than to make use of
the whole power: that is, to declare an opinion to
be law which has always been contested, or per-
haps never started at all before such an incident
brought it on the stage. Not to consent to the en-
acting of such a law, which has no view beside the
general good, unless another law shall at the same
time pass with no other view but that of advancing
the power of one party alone; what is this but to
claim a positive voice as well as a negative? To
pretend that great changes and alienations of pro-
perty have created new and great dependencies, and,
consequently, new additions of power, as some rea-
soners have done, is a most dangerous tenet. If do-
minion must follow property, let it follow in the
same pace; for change in property through the
bulk of a nation makes slow marches, and its due
power always attends it. To conclude that what-
ever attempt is begun by an assembly ought to be
pursued to the end, without regard to the greatest
incidents that may happen to alter the case; to
count it mean and below the dignity of a house to
quit a prosecution; to resolve upon a conclusion
before it is possible to be apprised of the premises;
to act thus, I say, is to affect not only absolute
power, but infallibility too. Yet such unaccount-
able proceedings as these have popular assemblies
engaged in, for want of fixing the due limits of power
and privilege.
Great changes may indeed be made in a govern-
ment, yet the form continue and the balance be held:
but large intervals of time must pass between every
such innovation, enough to melt down and make it
286
CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS
of a piece with the constitution. Such, we are told,
were the proceedings of Solon, when he modelled
anew the Athenian commonwealth; and what con-
vulsions in our own, as well as other states, have
been bred by a neglect of this rule, is fresh and no-
torious enough it is too soon, in all conscience, to
repeat this error again.
Having shown that there is a natural balance of
power in all free states, and how it has been divided,
sometimes by the people themselves, as in Rome;
at others by the institutions of the legislators, as in
the several states of Greece and Sicily; the next
thing is, to examine what methods have been taken
to break or overthrow this balance, which every one
of the three parties has continually endeavoured, as
opportunities have served; as might appear from the
stories of most ages and countries: for absolute
power in a particular state is of the same nature
with universal monarchy in several states adjoining
to each other. So endless and exorbitant are the
desires of men, whether considered in their persons
or their states, that they will grasp at all, and can
form no scheme of perfect happiness with less.
Even since men have been united into governments,
the hopes and endeavours after universal monarchy
have been bandied among them, from the reign of
Ninus to this of the Most Christian King; in which
pursuits, commonwealths have had their share as
well as monarchs: so the Athenians, the Spartans,
the Thebans, and the Achaians, did several times
aim at the universal monarchy of Greece; so the
commonwealths of Carthage and Rome affected the
universal monarchy of the then known world. In
like manner has absolute power been pursued by
the several parties of each particular state; wherein
single persons have met with most success, though
the endeavours of the few and the many have been
frequent enough: yet, being neither so uniform in
their designs nor so direct in their views, they nei-
ther could manage nor maintain the power they had
got, but were ever deceived by the popularity and
ambition of some single person. So that it will
be always a wrong step in policy for the nobles and
commons to carry their endeavours after power so
far as to overthrow the balance: and it would be
enough to damp their warmth in such pursuits, if
they could once reflect that in such a course they
will be sure to run upon the very rock that they
meant to avoid; which, I suppose, they would have
us think is the tyranny of a single person.
Many examples might be produced of the endea-
vours of each of these three rivals after absolute
power; but I shall suit my discourse to the time I
am writing in, and relate only such dissensions in
Greece and Rome, between the nobles and com-
mons, with the consequences of them, wherein the
latter were the aggressors.
I shall begin with Greece, where my observation
shall be confined to Athens, though several instances
might be brought from other states thereof.
CHAPTER II.
Of the dissensions in Athens between the few and the many.
THESEUS is the first who is recorded, with any ap-
pearance of truth, to have brought the Grecians
from a barbarous manner of life, among scattered
villages, into cities; and to have established the po-
pular state in Athens, assigning to himself the
guardianship of the laws and chief command in war.
He was forced, after some time, to leave the Athe-
nians to their own measures, upon account of their
seditious temper, which ever continued with them
till the final dissolution of their government by the
Romans. It seems the country about Attica was
the most barren of any in Greece, through which
means it happened that the natives were never ex-
pelled by the fury of invaders (who thought it not
worth a conquest), but continued always aborigines;
and therefore retained, through all revolutions, a
tincture of that turbulent spirit wherewith their
government began. This institution of Theseus ap-
pears to have been rather a sort of mixed monarchy
than a popular state; and, for aught we know,
might continue so during the series of kings till the
death of Codrus. From this last prince Solon was
said to be descended; who, finding the people en-
gaged in two violent factions of the poor and the
rich, and in great confusion thereupon, refusing the
monarchy which was offered him, chose rather to
cast the government after another model, wherein
he made provisions for settling the balance of power,
choosing a senate of four hundred, and disposing the
magistracies and offices according to men's estates;
leaving to the multitude their votes in electing, and
the power of judging certain processes by appeal.
This council of four hundred was chosen, one hun-
dred out of each tribe, and seems to have been a
body representative of the people; though the people
collective reserved a share of power to themselves.
It is a point of history perplexed enough; but this
much is certain, that the balance of power was pro-
vided for; else Pisistratus, called by authors the
tyrant of Athens,
tyrant of Athens, could never have governed so
peaceably as he did without changing any of Solon's
laws [Herodot. lib. i.]. These several powers, to-
gether with that of the archon or chief magistrate,
made up the form of government in Athens, at what
time it began to appear upon the scene of action and
story.
The first great man bred up under this institution
was Miltiades, who lived about ninety years after
Solon, and is reckoned to have been the first great
captain, not only of Athens, but of all Greece. From
the time of Miltiades to that of Phocion, who is
looked upon as the last famous general of Athens,
are about 130 years: after which, they were subdued
and insulted by Alexander's captains, and continued
under several revolutions a small truckling state, of
no name or reputation, till they fell with the rest
of Greece under the power of the Romans.
During this period from Miltiades to Phocion, I
shall trace the conduct of the Athenians with relation
to their dissensions between the people and some of
their generals; who, at that time, by their power
and credit in the army, in a warlike commonwealth,
and often supported by each other, were, with the
magistrates and other civil officers, a sort of counter-
poise to the power of the people; who, since the
death of Solon, had already made great encroach-
ments. What these dissensions were, how founded,
and what the consequences of them, I shall briefly
and impartially relate.
I must here premise that the nobles in Athens
were not at this time a corporate assembly, that I
can gather; therefore the resentments of the com-
mons were usually turned against particular persons,
and by way of articles of impeachment. Whereas
the commons in Rome and some other states, as will
appear in a proper place, though they followed this
method upon occasion, yet generally pursued the en-
largement of their power by more set quarrels of one
entire assembly against another. However, the
custom of particular impeachments being not limited
to former ages, any more than that of general strug
gles and dissensions between fixed assemblies o
nobles and commons, and the ruin of Greece having
IN ATHENS AND ROME.
287
been owing to the former, as that of Rome was to
the latter, I shall treat on both expressly; that
those states who are concerned in either (if, at least,
there be any such now in the world) may, by observ-
ing the means and issues of former dissensions,
learn whether the causes are alike in theirs; and if
they find them to be so, may consider whether they
ought not justly to apprehend the same effects.
To speak of every particular person impeached by
the commons of Athens, within the compass de-
signed, would introduce the history of almost every
great man they had among them. I shall therefore
take notice only of six, who, living at that period of
time when Athens was at the height of its glory, as
indeed it could not be otherwise while such hands
were at the helm, though impeached for high crimes
and misdemeanors, such as bribery, arbitrary pro-
ceedings, misapplying or embezzling public funds,
ill conduct at sea, and the like, were honoured and
lamented by their country as the preservers of it, and
have had the veneration of all ages since paid justly
to their memories.
Miltiades [lord Orford] was one of the Athenian
generals against the Persian power, and the famous
victory at Marathon was chiefly owing to his valour
and conduct. Being sent some time after to reduce
the island of Paros, he mistook a great fire at a dis-
tance for the fleet, and, being no ways a match for
them, set sail for Athens; at his arrival he was im-
peached by the commons for treachery, though not
able to appear by reason of his wounds, fined 30,000
crowns, and died in prison. Though the conse-
quences of this proceeding upon the affairs of Athens
were no other than the untimely loss of so great and
good a man, yet I could not forbear relating it.
Their next great man was Aristides [lord Somers].
Beside the mighty service he had done his country
in the wars, he was a person of the strictest justice,
aud best acquainted with the laws as well as forms.
of their government, so that he was in a manner
chancellor of Athens. This man, upon a slight and
false accusation of favouring arbitrary power, was
banished by ostracism; which, rendered into mo-
dern English, would signify that they voted he
should be removed from their presence and council
for ever. But, however, they had the wit to recal
him, and to that action owed the preservation of
their state by his future services. For it must be
still confessed in behalf of the Athenian people that
they never conceived themselves perfectly infallible,
nor arrived to the heights of modern assemblies, to
make obstinacy confirm what sudden heat and teme-
rity began. They thought it not below the dignity
of an assembly to endeavour at correcting an ill step;
at least to repent, though it often fell out too late.
Themistocles" was at first a commoner himself: it
was he that raised the Athenians to their greatness
at sea, which he thought to be the true and constant
interest of that commonwealth; and the famous
naval victory over the Persians at Salamis was owing
to his conduct. It seems the people observed some-
what of haughtiness in his temper and behaviour,
and therefore banished him for five years; but find-
ing some slight matter of accusation against him,
they sent to seize his person, and he hardly escaped
to the Persian court; from whence, if the love of
his country had not surmounted its base ingratitude
to him, he had many invitations to return at the
head of the Persian fleet, and take a terrible revenge:
but he rather chose a voluntary death.
The people of Athens impeached Pericles for
a Admiral Russell, created earl of Orford.
b Under Pericles and Alcibiades, Swift points out circum-
stances parallel to the case of Halifax.
|
|
| misapplying the public revenues to his own private
use. He had been a person of great deservings
from the republic, was an admirable speaker, and
very popular. His accounts were confused, and he
could not then give them up; therefore, merely to
divert that difficulty, and the consequences of it, he
was forced to engage his country in the Peloponne-
sian war, the longest that ever was known in Greece,
and which ended in the utter ruin of Athens.
The same people, having resolved to subdue Sicily,
sent a mighty fleet under the command of Nicias,
Lamachus, and Alcibiades: the two former, persons
of age and experience; the last, a young man of
noble birth, excellent education, and plentiful for-
tune. A little before the fleet set sail, it seems, one
night, the stone images of Mercury, placed in several
parts of the city, were all pared in the face: this
action the Athenians interpreted for a design of de-
stroying the popular state; and Alcibiades, having
been formerly noted for the like frolics and excur-
sions, was immediately accused of this. He, whe-
ther conscious of his innocence, or assured of the
secrecy, offered to come to his trial before he went
to his command: this the Athenians refused; but
as soon as he was got to Sicily they sent for him
back, designing to take the advantage and prosecute
him in the absence of his friends, and of the army,
where he was very powerful. It seems he under-
stood the resentment of a popular assembly too well
to trust them; and therefore, instead of returning,
escaped to Sparta; where, his desires of revenge pre-
vailing over his love for his country, he became its
greatest enemy. Meanwhile the Athenians before
Sicily, by the death of one commander, and the su-
perstition, weakness, and perfect ill-conduct of the
other, were utterly destroyed, the whole fleet taken,
and a miserable slaughter made of the army, whereof
hardly one ever returned. Some time after this,
Alcibiades was recalled upon his own conditions by
the necessities of the people, and made chief com-
mander at sea and land; but his lieutenant engaging
against his positive orders, and being beaten by Ly-
sander, Alcibiades was again disgraced and banished.
However, the Athenians having lost all strength and
heart since their misfortune at Sicily, and now de-
prived of the only person that was able to recover
their losses, repent of their rashness, and endea-
vour in vain for his restoration; the Persian lieute-
nant, to whose protection he fled, making him a
sacrifice to the resentments of Lysander, the general
of the Lacedemonians, who now reduces all the do-
minions of the Athenians, takes the city, razes their
walls, ruins their works, and changes the form of their
government, which, though again restored for some
time by Thrasybulus (as their walls were rebuilt by
Conon), yet here we must date the fall of the Athenian
greatness; the dominion and chief power in Greece
from that period to the time of Alexander the Great,
which was about fifty years, being divided between
the Spartans and Thebans. Though Philip, Alexan-
der's father (the Most Christian King of that age),
had indeed some time before begun to break in upon
the republic of Greece by conquest or bribery; par-
ticularly dealing large money among some popular
orators, by which he brought many of them, as the
term of art was then, to Philippize.
In the time of Alexander and his captains, the Athe-
nians were offered an opportunity of recovering their
liberty and being restored to their former state: but
the wise turn they thought to give the matter was
by an impeachment and sacrifice of the author to
hinder the success. For, after the destruction of
Thebes by Alexander, this prince, designing the con-
quest of Athens, was prevented by Phocion [earl of
288
CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS
Portland], the Athenian general, then ambassador
from that state; who, by his great wisdom and skill
at negotiations, diverted Alexander from his design,
and restored the Athenians to his favour. The very
same success he had with Antipater after Alexander's
death, at which time the government was new regu-
lated by Solon's laws: but Polyperchon, in hatred
to Phocion, having, by order of the young king, whose
governor he was, restored those whom Phocion had
banished, the plot succeeded. Phocion was accused
by popular orators, and put to death.
Thus was the most powerful commonwealth of all
Greece, after great degeneracies from the institution
of Solon, utterly destroyed by that rash, jealous, and
inconstant humour of the people, which was never
satisfied to see a general either victorious or unfor-
tunate such ill judges, as well as rewarders, have
popular assemblies been, of those who best deserved
from them.
:
Now, the circumstance which makes these ex-
amples of more importance is, that this very power
of the people in Athens, claimed so confidently for
an inherent right, and insisted on as the undoubted
privilege of an Athenian born, was the rankest en-
croachment imaginable, and the grossest degene-
racy from the form that Solon left them. In short,
their government was grown into a dominatio plebis,
or tyranny of the people, who by degrees had broke
and overthrown the balance which that legislator had
very well fixed and provided for.-This appears not
only from what has been already said of that lawgiver,
but more manifestly from a passage in Diodorus
[lib. 18], who tells us that Antipater, one of Alex-
ander's captains, abrogated the popular government
in Athens, and restored the power of suffrages and
magistracy to such only as were worth two thousand
drachmas; by which means, says he, that republic
came to be again administered by the laws of Solon.
By this quotation it is manifest that great author
looked upon Solon's institution and a popular govern-
ment to be two different things. And as for this re-
storation by Antipater, it had neither consequence
nor continuance worth observing.
I might easily produce many more examples, but
these are sufficient: and it may be worth the reader's
time to reflect a little on the merits of the cause, as
well as of the men who had been thus dealt with
by their country. I shall direct him no further than
by repeating that Aristides [Somers] was the most
renowned by the people themselves for his exact jus-
tice and knowledge in the law; that Themistocles
[Orford] was a most fortunate admiral, and had got
a mighty victory over the great king of Persia's fleet;
that Pericles [Halifax] was an able minister of state,
an excellent orator, and a man of letters; and lastly,
that Phocion [Portland], beside the success of his
arms, was also renowned for his negotiations abroad;
having in an embassy brought the greatest monarch
of the world at that time to the terms of an honour-
able peace, by which his country was preserved.
I shall conclude my remarks upon Athens with
the character given us of that people by Polybius.
About this time, says he, the Athenians were governed
by two men, quite sunk in their affairs, had little or
no commerce with the rest of Greece, and were be-
come great reverencers of crowned heads.
For, from the time of Alexander's captains till
Greece was subdued by the Romans, to the latter
part of which this description of Polybius falls in,
Athens never produced one famous man either for
counsels or arms, or hardly for learning. And, in-
deed, it was a dark insipid period through all Greece:
for, except the Achaian league under Aratus and
Philopamen, and the endeavours of Agis and Cleo-
|
menes to restore the state of Sparta, so frequently
harassed by tyrannies occasioned by the popular
practices of the ephori, there was very little worth
recording. All which consequences may perhaps be
justly imputed to this degeneracy of Athens.
CHAPTER III.
Of the dissensions between the patricians and plebeians in
Rome, with the consequences they had upon that state.
HAVING in the foregoing chapter confined myself
to the proceedings of the commons only, by the
method of impeachments against particular persons,
with the fatal effects they had upon the state of
Athens, I shall now treat of the dissensions at Rome,
between the people and the collective body of the
patricians or nobles. It is a large subject, but I shall
draw it into as narrow a compass as I can.
As Greece, from the most ancient accounts we
have of it, was divided into several kingdoms, so
was most part of Italy [Dionys. Halicar.] into several
petty commonwealths. And as those kings in Greece
are said to have been deposed by their people upon
the score of their arbitrary proceedings, so, on the
contrary, the commonwealths of Italy were all swal-
lowed up and concluded in the tyranny of the Ro-
man emperors. However, the differences between
those Grecian monarchies and Italian republics were
not very great; for, by the account Homer gives us
of those Grecian princes who came to the siege of
Troy, as well as by several passages in the Odyssey,
it is manifest that the power of these princes in their
several states was much of a size with that of the
kings in Sparta, the archon at Athens, the suffetes at
Carthage, and the consuls in Rome : so that a limited
and divided power seems to have been the most an-
cient and inherent principle of both those people in
matters of government. And such did that of Rome
continue from the time of Romulus, though with
some interruptions, to Julius Cæsar, when it ended
in the tyranny of a single person. During which
period (not many years longer than from the Norman
conquest to our age) the commons were growing by
degrees into power and property, gaining ground
upon the patricians, as it were, inch by inch, till at
last they quite overturned the balance, leaving all
doors open to the practices of popular and ambitious
men, who destroyed the wisest republic, and enslaved
the noblest people that ever entered upon the stage
of the world. By what steps and degrees this was
brought to pass shall be the subject of my present
inquiry.
While Rome was governed by kings, the mo-
Romulus himself,
narchy was altogether elective.
when he had built the city, was declared king by the
universal consent of the people, and by augury,
which was there understood for divine appointment.
Among other divisions he made of the people, one
was into patricians and plebeians: the former were
like the barons of England some time after the con-
quest; and the latter are also described to be almost
For they
exactly what our commons were then.
were dependents upon the patricians, whom they
chose for their patrons and protectors, to answer for
their appearance and defend them in any process:
they also supplied their patrons with money in ex-
change for their protection. This custom of patron-
age, it seems, was very ancient, and long practised
among the Greeks.
Out of these patricians Romulus chose a hundred
to be a senate, or grand council, for advice and as-
sistance to him in the administration. The senate
therefore originally consisted all of nobles, and were
IN ATHENS AND ROME.
289
of themselves a standing council, the people being
only convoked upon such occasions as by this insti-
tution of Romulus fell into their cognizance: those
were, to constitute magistrates, to give their votes
for making laws, and to advise upon entering on a
war. But the two former of these popular privileges
were to be confirmed by authority of the senate;
and the last was only permitted at the king's plea-
This was the utmost extent of power pre-
tended to by the commons in the time of Romulus,
all the rest being divided between the king and the
senate; the whole agreeing very nearly with the
constitution of England for some centuries after the
conquest.
sure.
After a year's interregnum from the death of Ro-
mulus, the senate of their own authority chose a
successor, and a stranger, merely upon the fame of
his virtue, without asking the consent of the com-
mons; which custom they likewise observed in the
two following kings. But in the election of Tar-
quinius Priscus, the fifth king, we first hear men-
tioned that it was done populi impetratâ veniá;
which indeed was but very reasonable for a free
people to expect; though I cannot remember, in my
little reading, by what incidents they were brought
to advance so great a step. However it were, this
prince, in gratitude to the people, by whose consent
he was chosen, elected a hundred senators out of the
commons, whose number, with former additions,
was now amounted to three hundred.
The people, having once discovered their own
strength, did soon take occasion to exert it, and that
by very great degrees. For at this king's death,
who was murdered by the sons of a former, being at
a loss for a successor, Servius Tullius, a stranger,
and of mean extraction, was chosen protector of the
kingdom by the people, without the consent of the
senate; at which the nobles being displeased, he
wholly applied himself to gratify the commons, and
was by them declared and confirmed no longer pro-
tector, but king.
This prince first introduced the custom of giving
freedom to servants, so as to become citizens of
equal privileges with the rest, which very much con-
tributed to increase the power of the people.
Thus in a very few years the commons proceeded
so far as to wrest even the power of choosing a
king entirely out of the hands of the nobles; which
was so great a leap, and caused such a convulsion
and struggle in the state, that the constitution could
not bear it; but civil dissensions arose, which im-
mediately were followed by the tyranny of a single
person, as this was by the utter subversion of the
regal government, and by a settlement upon a new
foundation. For the nobles, spited at this indignity
done them by the commons, firmly united in a body,
deposed this prince by plain force, and chose Tar-
quin the Proud; who, running into all the forms
and methods of tyranny, after a cruel reign was ex-
pelled by a universal concurrence of nobles and
people, whom the miseries of his reign had recon-
ciled.
When the consular government began, the balance
of power between the nobles and plebeians was fixed
anew; the two first consuls were nominated by the
nobles and confirmed by the commons; and a law
was enacted, That no person should bear any magis-
tracy in Rome, injussu populi, that is, without the
consent of the commons.
In such turbulent times as these, many of the
poorer citizens had contracted numerous debts,
either to the richer sort among themselves, or to
senators and other nobles: and the case of debtors
in Rome for the first four centuries was, after the set
VOL. I.
|
|
time for payment, that they had no choice but either
to pay or be the creditor's slave. In this juncture,
the commons leave the city in mutiny and discon-
tent, and will not return but upon condition to be
acquitted of all their debts; and moreover, that cer-
tain magistrates be chosen yearly, whose business it
shall be to defend the commons from injuries.
These are called tribunes of the people; their persons
are held sacred and inviolable, and the people bind
themselves by oath never to abrogate the office. By
these tribunes, in process of time, the people were
grossly imposed on to serve the turns and occasions
of revengeful or ambitious men, and to commit such
exorbitancies as could not end but in the dissolu-
tion of the government.
These tribunes, a year or two after their institu-
tion, kindled great dissensions between the nobles
and the commons on the account of Coriolanus, a
nobleman whom the latter had impeached, and the
consequences of whose impeachment (if I had not
confined myself to Grecian examples for that part of
my subject) had like to have been so fatal to their
state. And from this time the tribunes began a
custom of accusing to the people whatever nobles
they pleased, several of whom were banished or put
to death in every age.
At this time the Romans were very much engaged
in wars with their neighbouring states; but upon
the least intervals of peace the quarrels between the
nobles and the plebeians would revive; and one of
the most frequent subjects of their differences was
the conquered lands, which the commons would fain
have divided among the public; but the senate
could not be brought to give their consent. For,
several of the wisest among the nobles began to ap-
prehend the growing power of the people; and,
therefore, knowing what an accession thereof would
accrue to them by such an addition of property,
used all means to prevent it: for this the Appian
family was most noted, and thereupon most hated
by the cominons. One of them, having made a
speech against this division of lands, was impeached
by the people of high treason, and a day appointed
for his trial; but disdaining to make his defence, he
chose rather the usual Roman remedy of killing
himself: after whose death the commons prevailed,
and the lands were divided among them.
This point was no sooner gained but new dissen-
sions began; for the plebeians would fain have a
law enacted to lay all men's rights and privileges
upon the same level; and to enlarge the power of
every magistrate within his own jurisdiction, as
much as that of the consuls. The tribunes also ob-
tained to have their numbers doubled, which before
was five and the author tells us that their inso-
lence and power increased with their number, and
the seditions were also doubled with it. [Dionys.
Halicar.]
By the beginning of the fourth century from the
building of Rome, the tribunes proceeded so far in
the name of the commons as to accuse and fine the
consuls themselves, who represented the kingly
power. And the senate, observing how in all con-
tentions they were forced to yield to the tribunes
and people, thought it their wisest course to give
way also to time; therefore a decree was made to
send ambassadors to Athens and to the other Grecian
commonwealths planted in that part of Italy called
Græcia Major, to make a collection of the best laws;
out of which, and some of their own, a new complete
body of law was formed, afterward known by the
name of the laws of the twelve tables.
To digest these laws into order, ten men were
chosen, and the administration of all affairs left in
U
290
CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS
their hands; what use they made of it has been
already shown. It was certainly a great revolution,
produced entirely by the many unjust encroachments
of the people, and might have wholly changed the
fate of Rome, if the folly and vice of those who were
chiefly concerned could have suffered it to take root.
A few years after, the commons made further ad-
vances on the power of the nobles; demanding,
among the rest, that the consulship, which hitherto
had only been disposed to the former, should now lie
in common to the pretensions of any Roman what-
soever. This, though it failed at present, yet after-
ward obtained, and was a mighty step to the ruin of
the commonwealth.
What I have hitherto said of Rome has been
chiefly collected out of that exact and diligent writer
Dionysius Halicarnasseus, whose history, through
the injury of time, reaches no farther than to the
beginning of the fourth century after the building
of Rome. The rest I shall supply from other authors,
though I do not think it necessary to deduce this
matter any further so very particularly as I have
hitherto done.
place, ventures so far as to guess at the particular fate
which would attend the Roman government. He
says its ruin would arise from the popular tumults,
which would introduce a dominatio plebis, or tyranny
of the people, wherein it is certain he had reason,
and therefore might have adventured to pursue his
conjectures so far as to the consequences of a popular
tyranny, which, as perpetual experience teaches, ne-
ver fails to be followed by the arbitrary government
of a single person. [Fragm. lib. 6.]
About the middle of the fourth century from the
building of Rome, it was declared lawful for nobles
and plebeians to intermarry, which custom, among
many other states, has proved the most effectual
means to ruin the former, and raise the latter.
And now the greatest employments in the state
were, one after another, by laws forcibly enacted by
the commons, made free to the people; the con-
sulship itself, the office of censor, that of the quæstors
or commissioners of the treasury, the office of prætor
or chief-justice, the priesthood, and even that of
dictator; the senate, after long opposition, yielding,
merely for present quiet, to the continual urging
clamours of the commons, and of the tribunes their
advocates. A law was likewise enacted that the
plebiscita, or a vote of the house of commons, should
be of universal obligation; nay, in time the method
of enacting laws was wholly inverted, for, whereas
the senate used of old to confirm the plebiscita, the
people did at last, as they pleased, confirm or disan-
nul the senatus consulta. [Dionys. lib. 2.]
Appius Claudius brought in a custom of admitting
to the senate the sons of freedmen, or of such who
had once been slaves, by which, and succeeding
alterations of the like nature, that great council de-
men, divided against itself, and its authority became
despised.
The century and half following, to the end of the
third Punic war by the destruction of Carthage, was
a very busy period at Rome, the intervals between
every war being so short that the tribunes and people
had hardly leisure or breath to engage in domestic
dissensions; however, the little time they could spare
was generally employed the same way. So, Teren-
tius Leo, a tribune, is recorded to have basely pros-
tituted the privileges of a Roman citizen in perfect
spite to the nobles. So, the great African Scipio
and his brother, after all their mighty services, were
impeached by an ungrateful commons.
To point at what time the balance of power was
most equally held between the lords and commons
in Rome would perhaps admit a controversy. Poly-
bius tell us [Fragm. lib. 6] that in the second
Punic war the Carthaginians were declining, because
the balance was got too much on the side of the
people; whereas the Romans were in their greatest
vigour by the power remaining in the senate: yet
this was between two and three hundred years after
the period Dionysius ends with, in which time the
commons had made several farther acquisitions.
This however must be granted, that (till about the
middle of the fourth century) when the senate ap-generated into a most corrupt and factious body of
peared resolute at any time upon exerting their au-
thority, and adhered closely together, they did often
carry their point. Besides, it is observed by the best
authors [Dionys. Hal., Plutarch, &c.] that in all the
quarrels and tumults at Rome, from the expulsion
of the kings, though the people frequently proceeded
to rude contumelious language, and sometimes so
far as to pull and hale one another about the forum,
yet no blood was ever drawn in any popular com-
motions till the time of the Gracchi: however, I am
of opinion that the balance had begun many years
before to lean to the popular side. But this default
was corrected, partly by the principle just mentioned,
of never drawing blood in a tumult; partly by the
warlike genius of the people, which, in those ages,
yas almost perpetually employed; and partly by
their great commanders, who, by the credit they had
in their armies, fell into the scales as a further coun-
terpoise to the growing power of the people. Besides,
Polybius, who lived in the time of Scipio Africanus
the younger, had the same apprehensions of the con-
tinual encroachments made by the commons, and
being a person of as great abilities and as much saga-
city as any of his age, from observing the corrup-
tions which, he says, had already entered into the
Roman constitution, did very nearly foretell what
would be the issue of them. His words are very re-
markable, and with little addition may be rendered
to this purpose: "That those abuses and corruptions
which in time destroy a government are sown along
with the very seeds of it, and both grow up together;
and that, as rust eats away iron, and worms devour
wood, and both are a sort of plagues born and bred
along with the substance they destroy, so, with every
form and scheme of government that man can invent,
some vice or corruption creeps in with the very in-
stitution which grows up along with and at last
destroys it." [Lib. 5.] The same author, in another
However, the warlike genius of the people and
continual employment they had for it served to divert
this humour from running into a head, till the age
of the Gracchi. /
These persons, entering the scene in the time of a
full peace, fell violently upon advancing the power
of the people, by reducing into practice all those
encroachments which they had been so many years
gaining. There were at that time certain conquered
lands to be divided, besides a great private estate
left by a king; these the tribunes, by procurement
of the elder Gracchus, declared by their legislative
authority were not to be disposed of by the nobles,
but by the commons only. The younger brother
pursued the same design; and, besides, obtained a
law, that all Italians should vote at elections as well
as the citizens of Rome: in short, the whole endea-
vours of them both perpetually turned upon re-
trenching the nobles' authority in all things, but
especially in the matter of judicature. And though
they both lost their lives in those pursuits, yet they
traced out such ways as were afterward followed by
Marius, Sylla, Pompey, and Cæsar, to the ruin of
the Roman freedom and greatness,
IN ATHENS AND ROME.
291
For in the time of Marius, Saturninus, a tribune,
procured a law, that the senate should be bound by
oath to agree to whatever the people would enact;
and Marius himself, while he was in that office of
tribune, is recorded to have with great industry used
all endeavours for depressing the nobles and raising
the people, particularly for cramping the former in
their power of judicature, which was their most an-
cient inherent right.
Sylla, by the same measure, became absolute tyrant
of Rome; he added three hundred commons to the
senate, which perplexed the power of the whole order,
and rendered it ineffectual; then, flinging off the
mask, he abolished the office of tribune, as being
only a scaffold to tyranny, whereof he had no fur-
ther use.
As to Pompey and Cæsar, Plutarch tells us that
their union for pulling down the nobles (by their
credit with the people) was the cause of the civil
war, which ended in the tyranny of the latter, both
of them in their consulships having used all endea-
vours and occasions for sinking the authority of the
patricians, and giving way to all encroachments of
the people, wherein they expected best to find their
own account.
From this deduction of popular encroachments in
Rome, the reader will easily judge how much the
balance was fallen upon that side. Indeed, by this
time the very foundation was removed, and it was
a moral impossibility that the republic could subsist
any longer, for the commons having usurped the
offices of state, and trampled on the senate, there
was no government left but a dominatio plebis. Let
us therefore examine how they proceeded in this
conjuncture.
I think it is a universal truth, that the people are
much more dexterous at pulling down and setting
up than at preserving what is fixed; and they are
not fonder of seizing more than their own, than they
are of delivering it up again to the worst bidder, with
their own into the bargain. For, although in their
corrupt notions of divine worship they are apt to
multiply their gods, yet their earthly devotion is sel-
dom paid to above one idol at a time of their own
creation, whose oar they pull with less murmuring,
and much more skill, than when they share the
lading, or even hold the helm.
The several provinces of the Roman empire were
now governed by the great men of their state; those
upon the frontiers, with powerful armies, either for
conquest or defence. These governors, upon any
These governors, upon any
designs of revenge or ambition, were sure to meet
with a divided power at home, and therefore bent
all their thoughts and applications to close in with
the people, who were now by many degrees the
stronger party. Two of the greatest spirits that
Rome ever produced happened to live at the same
time, and to be engaged in the same pursuit, and
this at a conjuncture the most dangerous for such a
contest; these were Pompey and Cæsar, two stars of
such a magnitude that their conjunction was as likely
to be fatal as their opposition.
The tribunes and people, having now subdued all
competitors, began the last game of a prevalent popu-
lace, which is that of choosing themselves a master;
while the nobles foresaw, and used all endeavours
left them to prevent it. The people at first made
Pompey their admiral, with full power over all the
Mediterranean, soon after captain-general of all the
Roman forces, and governor of Asia. Pompey, on
the other side, restored the office of tribune, which
Sylla had put down, and in his consulship procured
a law for examining into the miscarriages of men in
office or command for twenty years past. Many
|
|
other examples of Pompey's popularity are left us
on record, who was a perfect favourite of the people,
and designed to be more, but his pretensions grew
stale for want of a timely opportunity of introducing
them upon the stage. For Cæsar, with his legions
in Gaul, was a perpetual check upon his designs ;
and in the arts of pleasing the people did soon after get
many lengths beyond him. For he tells us himself
that the senate, by a bold effort, having made some
severe decrees against his proceedings, and against
the tribunes, these all left the city and went over to
his party, and consequently along with them the affec-
tions and interests of the people, which is further
manifest from the accounts he gives us of the citizens
in several towns mutinying against their commanders,
and delivering both to his devotion. Besides, Cæsar's
public and avowed pretensions for beginning the civil
war were, to restore the tribunes and the people,
oppressed (as he pretended) by the nobles.
This forced Pompey, against his inclinations, upon
the necessity of changing sides, for fear of being for-
saken by both; and of closing in with the senate
and chief magistrates, by whom he was chosen ge-
neral against Cæsar.
Thus at length the senate (at least the primitive
part of them, the nobles) under Pompey, and the
commons under Caesar, came to a final decision of
the long quarrels between them. For, I think, the
ambition of private men did by no means begin or
occasion this war; though civil dissensions never
fail of introducing and spiriting the ambition of pri-
vate men; who thus become indeed the great in-
struments for deciding such quarrels, and at last are
sure to seize on the prize. But no man that sees a
flock of vultures hovering over two armies ready to
engage can justly charge the blood drawn in the
battle to them, though the carcases fall to their share.
For, while the balance of power is equally held, the
ambition of private men, whether orators or great
commanders, gives neither danger nor fear, nor can
possibly enslave their country; but that once broken,
the divided parties are forced to unite each to its
head, under whose conduct or fortune one side is at
first victorious, and at last both are slaves. And to
put it past dispute that this entire subversion of the
Roman liberty and constitution was altogether owing
to those measures which had broke the balance be-
tween the patricians and plebeians, whereof the am-
bition of particular men was but an effect and con-
sequence, we need only consider that, when the un-
corrupted part of the senate had, by the death of
Cæsar, made one great effort to restore the former
state and liberty, the success did not answer their
hopes; but that whole assembly was so sunk in its
authority, that those patriots were forced to fly and
give way to the madness of the people, who, by their
own dispositions, stirred up with the harangues of
their orators, were now wholly bent upon single and
despotic slavery. Else, how could such a profligate
as Antony, or a boy of eighteen, like Octavius, ever
dare to dream of giving the law to such an empire and
people? wherein the latter succeeded, and entailed
the vilest tyranny that heaven, in its anger, ever in-
flicted on a corrupt and poisoned people. And this,
with so little appearance at Cæsar's death, that when
Cicero wrote to Brutus how he had prevailed by
his credit with Octavius to promise him (Brutus)
pardon and security for his person, that great Roman
received the notice with the utmost indignity, and
returned Cicero an answer, yet upon record, full of
the highest resentment and contempt for such an
offer, and from such a hand.
Here ended all show or shadow of liberty in
Rome. Here was the repository of all the wise
U 2
292
CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS
contentions and struggles for power between the
nobles and commons, lapped up safely in the bosom
of a Nero and a Caligula, a Tiberius and a Domitian.
Let us now see, from this deduction of particular
impeachments and general dissensions in Greece
and Rome, what conclusions may naturally be
formed for instruction of any other state that may
haply upon many points labour under the like cir-
cumstances.
CHAPTER IV.
UPON the subject of impeachments we may observe
that the custom of accusing the nobles to the people,
either by themselves or their orators (now styled an
impeachment in the name of the commons), has been
very ancient both in Greece and Rome, as well as
Carthage, and therefore may seem to be the inhe-
rent right of a free people; nay, perhaps it is really
so; but then it is to be considered, first, that this
custom was peculiar to republics, or such states
where the administration lay principally in the
hands of the commons, and ever raged more or less
according to their encroachments upon absolute
power; having been always looked upon by the
wisest men and best authors of those times as an
effect of licentiousness, and not of liberty; a dis-
tinction which no multitude, either represented or
collective, has been at any time very nice in observ-
ing. However, perhaps this custom in a popular
state, of impeaching particular men, may seem to be
nothing else but the people's choosing upon occasion
to exercise their own jurisdiction in person; as if a
king of England should sit as chief justice in his
court of king's bench; which, they say, in former
times he sometimes did. But in Sparta, which was
called a kingly government, though the people were
perfectly free, yet, because the administration was in
the two kings and the ephori, with the assistance of
the senate, we read of no impeachments by the
people; nor was the process against great men either
upon account of ambition or ill conduct, though it
reached sometimes to kings themselves, ever formed
that way, as I can recollect, but only passed through
those hands where the administration lay. So like-
wise, during the regal government in Rome, though
it was instituted a mixed monarchy, and the people
made great advances in power, yet I do not remem-
ber to have read of one impeachment from the com-
mons against a patrician, until the consular state
began and the people had made great encroach-
ments upon the administration.
Another thing to be considered is, that, allowing
this right of impeachment to be as inherent as they
please, yet, if the commons have been perpetually
mistaken in the merits of the causes and the
per-
sons, as well as in the consequences of such im-
peachments upon the peace of the state, we cannot
conclude less than that the commons in Greece and
Rome (whatever they may be in other states) were
by no means qualified, either as prosecutors or
judges in such matters; and, therefore, that it would
have been prudent to have reserved these privileges
dormant, never to be produced but upon very great
and urging occasions, where the state is in apparent
danger, the universal body of the people in clamours
against the administration, and no other remedy in
view. But for a few popular orators or tribunes,
upon the score of personal piques; or to employ
the pride they conceive in seeing themselves at the
head of a party; or as a method for advancement;
or moved by certain powerful arguments that could
make Demosthenes Philippize: for such men, I say,
when the state would of itself gladly be quiet, and
has, besides, affairs of the last importance upon the
anvil, to impeach Miltiades, after a great naval vic-
tory, for not pursuing the Persian fleet; to impeach
Aristides, the person most versed among them in
the knowledge and practice of their laws, for a blind
suspicion of his acting in an arbitrary way, that is, as
they expound it, not in concert with the people; to
impeach Pericles, after all his services, for a few in-
considerable accounts; or to impeach Phocion, who
had been guilty of no other crime but negotiating a
treaty for the peace and security of his country:
what could the continuance of such proceedings end
in but the utter discouragement of all virtuous ac-
tions and persons, and consequently in the ruin of a
state? Therefore the historians of those ages seldom
fail to set this matter in all its lights, leaving us in
the highest and most honourable ideas of those per-
sons who suffered by the persecution of the people,
together with the fatal consequences they had, and
how the persecutors seldom failed to repent when
it was too late.
These impeachments perpetually falling upon
many of the best men both in Greece and Rome
are a cloud of witnesses and examples enough to
discourage men of virtue and abilities from engaging
in the service of the public; and help, on the other
side, to introduce the ambitious, the covetous, the
superficial, and the ill designing; who are as apt to
be bold, and forward, and meddling, as the former
are to be cautious, and modest, and reserved. This
was so well known in Greece, that an eagerness
after employments in the state was looked upon by
wise men as the worst title a man could set up, and
made Plato say,
"That if all men were as good as
they ought to be, the quarrel in a commonwealth
would be, not, as it is now, who should be ministers
of state, but who should not be so." And Socrates.
is introduced by Xenophon [Lib. Memorab.] severely
chiding a friend of his for not entering into the
public service when he was every way qualified for
it: such a backwardness there was at that time
among good men to engage with a usurping people
and a set of pragmatical ambitious orators. And
Diodorus tells us, that when the petalism was
erected at Syracuse, in imitation of the ostracism at
Athens, it was so notoriously levelled against all
who had either birth or merit to recommend them,
that whoever possessed either withdrew for fear,
and would have no concern in public affairs. So
that the people themselves were forced to abrogate
it, for fear of bringing all things into confusion.
(Lib. 2.)
There is one thing more to be observed, wherein
all the popular impeachments in Greece and Rome
seem to have agreed; and that was a notion they
had of being concerned in point of honour to con-
demn whatever person they impeached, however
frivolous the articles were upon which they began,
or however weak the surmises whereon they were to
proceed in their proofs. For, to conceive that the
body of the people could be mistaken was an indig-
nity not to be imagined, till the consequences had
convinced them when it was past remedy. And I
look upon this as a fate to which all popular accusa-
tions are subject; though I should think that the
saying, Vox populi vox Dei, ought to be understood
of the universal bent and current of a people, not of
the bare majority of a few representatives, which is
often procured by little arts and great industry and
application; wherein those who engage in the pur-
suits of malice and revenge are much more sedulous
than such as would prevent them.
From what has been deduced of the dissensions in
Rome between the two bodies of patricians and ple-
beians several reflections may be made.
IN ATHENS AND ROME.
293
First, That when the balance of power is duly
fixed in a state nothing is more dangerous or unwise
than to give way to the first steps of popular en-
croachments, which is usually done either in hopes
of procuring ease and quiet from some vexatious
clamour, or else made merchandise, and merely
bought and sold. This is breaking into a constitu-
tion to serve a present expedient, or supply a present
exigency: the remedy of an empiric to stifle the pre-
sent pain, but with certain prospect of sudden and
terrible returns. When a child grows easy and con-
tent by being humoured, and when a lover becomes
satisfied by small compliances without further pur-
suits, then expect to find popular assemblies content
with small concessions. If there could one single
example be brought from the whole compass of his-
tory of any one popular assembly, who, after be-
ginning to contend for power, ever sat down quietly
with a certain share; or if one instance could be
produced of a popular assembly that ever knew, or
proposed, or declared what share of power was their
due; then might there be some hopes that it were a
matter to be adjusted by reasonings, by conferences,
or debates: but since all that is manifestly other-
wise, I see no other course to be taken in a settled
state than a steady constant resolution in those to
whom the rest of the balance is intrusted never to
give way so far to popular clamours as to make the
least breach in the constitution, through which a
million of abuses and encroachments will certainly
in time force their way.
Again, from this deduction it will not be difficult
to gather and assign certain marks of popular en-
croachments; by observing which, those who hold
the balance in a state may judge of the degrees, and,
by early remedies and application, put a stop to the
fatal consequences that would otherwise ensue.
What those marks are has been at large deduced,
and need not be here repeated.
Another consequence is this, that (with all respect
for popular assemblies be it spoken) it is hard to
recollect one folly, infirmity, or vice, to which a
single man is subjected, and from which a body of
commons, either collective or represented, can be
wholly exempt. For, beside that they are composed
of men with all their infirmities about them, they
have also the ill fortune to be generally led and in-
fluenced by the very worst among themselves, I mean
popular orators, tribunes, or, as they are now styled,
great speakers, leading men, and the like. Whence
it comes to pass, that in their results we have some-
times found the same spirit of cruelty and revenge,
of malice and pride, the same blindness and obsti-
nacy and unsteadiness, the same ungovernable rage
and anger, the same injustice, sophistry, and fraud,
that ever lodged in the breast of any individual.
Again, in all free states the evil to be avoided is
tyranny, that is to say, the summa imperii, or un-
limited power solely in the hands of the one, the
few, or the many. Now, we have shown that,
although most revolutions of government in Greece
and Rome began with the tyranny of the people,
yet they generally concluded in that of a single per-
son; so that a usurping populace is its own dupe,
mere underworker, and a purchaser in trust for
some single tyrant, whose state and power they ad-
vance to their own ruin with as blind an instinct as
those worms that die with weaving magnificent
habits for beings of a superior nature to their own.
CHAPTER V.
SOME reflections upon the late public proceedings
among us, and that variety of factions into which we
are still so intricately engaged, gave occasion to this
discourse. I am not conscious that I have forced
one example, or put it into any other light than it
appeared to me long before I had thought of pro-
ducing it.
I cannot conclude without adding some particular
remarks upon the present posture of affairs and dis-
positions in this kingdom.
The fate of empire is grown a commonplace: that
all forms of government, having been instituted by
men, must be mortal like their authors, and have
their periods of duration limited, as well as those of
private persons. This is a truth of vulgar know-
ledge and observation: but there are few who turn
their thoughts to examine how those diseases in a
state are bred that hasten its end; which would,
however, be a very useful inquiry. For, though we
cannot prolong the period of a commonwealth be-
yond the decree of Heaven, or the date of its nature,
any more than human life beyond the strength of
the seminal virtue, yet we may manage a sickly con-
stitution, and preserve a strong one; we may watch
and prevent accidents; we may turn off a great
blow from without, and purge away an ill humour
that is lurking within: and by these, and other such
methods, render a state long-lived though not im-
mortal. Yet some physicians have thought that, if
it were practicable to keep the several humours of
the body in an exact equal balance of each with its
opposite, it might be immortal, and so perhaps would
a political body if the balance of power could be
always held exactly even. But, I doubt, this is as
impossible in practice as the other.
It has an appearance of fatality, and that the
period of a state approaches, when a concurrence of
many circumstances, both within and without, unite
toward its ruin; while the whole body of the peopie
are either stupidly negligent, or else giving in with
all their might to those very practices that are work-
ing their destruction. To see whole bodies of men
breaking a constitution by the very same errors that
SO many have been broke before; to observe oppo-
site parties, who can agree in nothing else, yet firmly
united in such measures as must certainly ruin their
country; in short, to be encompassed with the great-
est dangers from without, to be torn by many viru-
lent factions within; then to be secure and senseless
under all this, and to make it the very least of our
concern; these, and some others that might be
named, appear to me to be the most likely symptoms
in a state of a sickness unto death.
Quod procul a nobis flectat fortuna gubernans :
Et ratio potius, quam res persuadeat ipsa.-LUCRET.
There are some conjunctures wherein the death or
dissolution of government is more lamentable in its
consequences than it would be in others. And, I
think, a state can never arrive to its period in a more
| deplorable crisis than at a time when some prince in
the neighbourhood, of vast power and ambition, lies
hovering like a vulture to devour, or at least dis-
member, its dying carcase; by which means it be-
comes only a province or acquisition to some mighty
monarchy, without hopes of a resurrection.
I know very well there is a set of sanguine tem-
pers who deride and ridicule, in the number of fop-
peries, all such apprehensions as these. They have
it ready in their mouths that the people of England
are of a genius and temper never to admit slavery
among them; and they are furnished with a great
many commonplaces upon that subject. But it
seems to me that such discoursers do reason upon
short views and a very moderate compass of thought.
For I think it a great error to count upon the
genius of a nation as a standing argument in all
ages, since there is hardly a spot of ground in Eu
294
CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS
rope where the inhabitants have not frequently and
entirely changed their temper and genius. Neither
can I see any reason why the genius of a nation
should be more fixed in the point of government
than in their morals, their learning, their religion,
their common humour and conversation, their diet
and their complexion; which do all notoriously vary
almost in every age, and may every one of them
have great effects upon men's notions of government.
Since the Norman conquest the balance of power
in England has often varied, and sometimes been
wholly overturned; the part which the commons
had in it (that most disputed point) in its original
progress and extent was, by their own confessions,
but a very inconsiderable share. Generally speak-
ing, they have been gaining ever since, though with
frequent interruptions and slow progress. The
abolishing of villanage, together with the custom in-
troduced (or permitted) among the nobles, of selling
their lands, in the reign of Henry the Seventh, was
a mighty addition to the power of the commons:
yet I think a much greater happened in the time of
his successor, at the dissolution of the abbeys; for
this turned the clergy wholly out of the scale, who
had so long filled it; and placed the commons in
their stead, who, in a few years, became possessed
of vast quantities of those and other lands, by grant
or purchase. About the middle of queen Eliza-
beth's reign, I take the power between the nobles
and the commons to have been in more equal
balance than it was ever before or since. But then,
or soon after, arose a faction in England, which,
under the name of Puritan, began to grow popular,
by moulding up their new schemes of religion with
republican principles in government; and gaining
upon the prerogative as well as the nobles, under
several denominations, for the space of about sixty
years, did at last overthrow the constitution and,
according to the usual course of such revolutions,
did introduce a tyranny, first of the people, and then
of a single person.
In a short time after the old government was re-
vived. But the progress of affairs for almost thirty
years, under the reigns of two weak princes [Charles
II. and James II. ], is a subject of a different nature;
when the balance was in danger to be overturned by
the hands that held it, which was at last very sea-
sonably prevented by the late revolution. However,
as it is the talent of human nature to run from one
extreme to another, so in a very few years we have
made mighty leaps from prerogative heights into the
depth of popularity, and I doubt to the very last de-
gree that our constitution will bear. It were to be
wished that the most august assembly of the com-
mons would please to form a pandect of their own
power and privileges, to be confirmed by the entire
legislative authority, and that in as solemn a manner
(if they please) as the magna charta. But to fix
one foot of their compass wherever they think fit,
and extend the other to such terrible lengths, with-
out describing any circumference at all, is to leave
us and themselves in a very uncertain state, and in a
sort of rotation that the author of the Oceanaª never
dreamed on. I believe the most hardy tribune will
not venture to affirm at present that any just fears
of encroachment are given us from the regal power,
or the few and is it then impossible to err on the
other side? How far must we proceed, or where
shall we stop? The raging of the sea, and the mad-
ness of the people, are put together in holy writ, and
it is God alone who can say to either, "Hitherto
shalt thou pass, and no farther."
* Mr. James Harrington, who published a scheme of govern-
ment entitled "The Commonwealth of Oceana."
The balance of power in a limited state is of such
absolute necessity, that Cromwell himself, before he
had perfectly confirmed his tyranny, having some occa-
sions for the appearance of a parliament, was forced
to create and erect an entire new house of lords
(such as it was) for a counterpoise to the commons.
And, indeed, considering the vileness of the clay, I
have sometimes wondered that no tribune of that
age durst ever venture to ask the potter, "What
dost thou make?" But it was then about the last
act of a popular usurpation; and fate, or Cromwell,
had already prepared them for that of a single person.
I have been often amazed at the rude, passionate,
and mistaken results which have, at certain times,
fallen from great assemblies, both ancient and mo-
dern, and of other countries as well as our own.-
This gave me the opinion I mentioned a while ago,
that public conventions are liable to all the infirmi-
ties, follies, and vices of private men. To which if
there be any exception, it must be of such assem-
blies who act by universal concert, upon public
principles, and for public ends; such as proceed upon
debates without unbecoming warmths or influence
from particular leaders and inflamers; such, whose
members, instead of canvassing to procure majorities
for their private opinions, are ready to comply with
general sober results, though contrary to their own
sentiments. Whatever assemblies act by these and
other methods of the like nature must be allowed
to be exempt from several imperfections to which
particular men are subjected. But I think the
source of most mistakes and miscarriages in matters
debated by public assemblies arises from the influ-
ence of private persons upon great numbers, styled, in
common phrase, leading men and parties. And, there-
fore, when we sometimes meet a few words put toge-
ther, which is called the vote or resolution of an assem-
bly,and which we cannot possibly reconcile to prudence
or public good, it is most charitable to conjecture
that such a vote has been conceived, and born, and
bred in a private brain; afterward raised and sup-
ported by an obsequious party; and then with usual
methods confirmed by an artificial majority. For,
let us suppose five hundred men, mixed in point of
sense and honesty, as usually assemblies are; and
let us suppose these men proposing, debating, re-
solving, voting, according to the mere natural motions
of their own little or much reason and understand-
ing; I do allow that abundance of indigested and
abortive, many pernicious and foolish overtures,
would arise and float a few minutes; but then they
would die and disappear. Because this must be
said in behalf of humankind, that common
and plain reason, while men are disengaged from
acquired opinions, will ever have some general in-
fluence upon their minds; whereas the species of
folly and vice are infinite, and so different in every
individual that they could never procure a majority
if other corruptions did not enter to pervert men's
understandings and misguide their wills.
sense
To describe how parties are bred in an assembly
would be a work too difficult at present, and per-
haps not altogether safe. Periculosa plenum opus
aleæ. Whether those who are leaders usually arrive
at that station more by a sort of instinct or secret
composition of their nature or influence of the stars
than by the possession of any great abilities, may
be a point of much dispute; but when the leader is
once fixed there will never fail to be followers. And
man is so apt to imitate, so much of the nature of
sheep (imitatores, servum pecus), that whoever is so
bold to give the first great leap over the heads
of those about him, though he be the worst of
the flock, shall be quickly followed by the rest.
IN ATHENS AND ROME.
295
Besides, when parties are once formed, the stragglers | methods for the conduct of human life can be of no
look so ridiculous, and become so insignificant, that
they have no other way but to run into the herd,
which at least will hide and protect them; and
where to be much considered, requires only to be
very violent.
But there is one circumstance with relation to
parties which I take to be, of all others, most perni-
cious in a state; and I would be glad any partisan
would help me to a tolerable reason, that, because
Clodius and Curio happen to agree with me in a few
singular notions, I must therefore blindly follow
them in all: or, to state it at best, that, because
Bibulus, the party-man, is persuaded that Clodius
and Curio do really propose the good of their coun-
try as their chief end, therefore Bibulus shall be
wholly guided and governed by them in the means
and measures toward it. Is it enough for Bibulus
and the rest of the herd to say, without further exa-
mining, I am of the side with Clodius, or I vote with
Curio? Are these proper methods to form and
make up what they think fit to call the united wis-
dom of the nation? Is it not possible that upon
some occasion Clodius may be bold and insolent,
borne away by his passion, malicious and revenge-
ful? That Curic may be corrupt, and expose to
sale his tongue or his pen? I conceive it far below
I conceive it far below
the dignity both of human nature and human reason
to be engaged in any party, the most plausible soever,
upon such servile conditions.
This influence of one upon many, which seems
to be as great in a people represented as it was of,
old in the commons collective, together with the
consequences it has had upon the legislature, has
given me frequent occasion to reflect upon what
Diodorus tells us of one Charondas, a lawgiver to
the Sybarites, an ancient people of Italy, who was
so averse from all innovation, especially when it was
to proceed from particular persons (and I suppose
that he might put it out of the power of men fond of
their own notions to disturb the constitution at their
pleasures, by advancing private schemes), that he
provided a statute, that whoever proposed any alter-
ation to be made should step out and do it with a
rope about his neck; if the matter proposed were
generally approved, then it should pass into a law;
if it went into the negative, the proposer to be im-
mediately hanged. Great ministers may talk of
what projects they please, but I am deceived if a
more effectual one could ever be found for taking off
(as the present phrase is) those hot, unquiet spirits
who disturb assemblies and obstruct public affairs,
by gratifying their pride, their malice, their ambition,
or their avarice.
Those who in a late reign began the distinction
between the personal and politic capacity seem to
have had reason, if they judged of princes by them-
selves; for, I think, there is hardly to be found
through all nature a greater difference between two
things than there is between a representing com-
moner in the function of his public calling, and the
same person when he acts in the common offices of
life. Here he allows himself to be upon a level
with the rest of mortals; here he follows his own
reason and his own way; and rather affects a sin-
gularity in his actions and thoughts than servilely
to copy either from the wisest of his neighbours. In
short, here his folly and his wisdom, his reason
and his passions, are all of his own growth, not the
echo or infusion of other men. But when he is got
near the walls of his assembly he assumes and af-
fects an entire set of very different airs; he con-
ceives himself a being of a superior nature to those
without, and acting in a sphere where the vulgar
use. He is listed in a party where he neither knows
the temper, nor designs, nor perhaps the person, of
his leader; but whose opinions he follows and
maintains with a zeal and faith as violent as a young
scholar does those of a philosopher whose sect he is
taught to profess. He has neither opinions, nor
thoughts, nor actions, nor talk, that he can call his
own, but all conveyed to him by his leader, as wind
is through an organ. The nourishment he receives
has been not only chewed but digested before it
comes into his mouth. Thus instructed, he follows
the party, right or wrong, through all his sentiments,
and acquires a courage and stiffness of opinion not
at all congenial with him.
This encourages me to hope that, during the pre-
sent lucid interval, the members retired to their
homes may suspend a while their acquired complex-
ions, and, taught by the calmness of the scene and
the season, reassume the native sedateness of their
temper. If this should be so, it would be wise in
them, as individual and private mortals, to look back
a little upon the storms they have raised, as well as
those they have escaped; to reflect, that they have been
authors of a new and wonderful thing in England,
which is, for a house of commons to lose the uni-
versal favour of the numbers they represent; to ob-
serve how those whom they thought fit to persecute
for righteousness sake have been openly caressed by
the people; and to remember how themselves sate
in fear of their persons from popular rage. Now, if
they would know the secret of all this unprecedented
proceeding in their masters, they must not impute it
to their freedom in debate, or declaring their opi-
nions, but to that unparliamentary abuse of setting
individuals upon their shoulders who were hated by
God and man. For it seems the mass of the people,
in such conjunctures as this, have opened their eyes,
and will not endure to be governed by Clodius and
Curio at the head of their myrmidons, though these
be ever so numerous, and composed of their own
representatives.
This aversion of the people against the late pro-
ceedings of the commons is an accident that, if it
last a while, might be improved to good uses for set-
ting the balance of power a little more upon an
equality than their late measures seem to promise or
admit. This accident may be imputed to two causes:
the first is a universal fear and apprehension of the
greatness and power of France, whereof the people
in general seem to be very much and justly pos-
sessed, and therefore cannot but resent to see it, in
so critical a juncture, wholly laid aside by their mi-
nisters, the commons. The other cause is a great
love and sense of gratitude in the people toward
their present king, grounded upon a long opinion
and experience of his merit, as well as concessions to
all their reasonable desires; so that it is for some
time they have begun to say and to fetch instances.
where he has in many things been hardly used.
How long these humours may last (for passions are
momentary, and especially those of a multitude), or
what consequences they may produce, a little time
will discover. But whenever it comes to pass that a
popular assembly, free from such obstructions, and
already possessed of more power than an equal
balance will allow, shall continue to think they have
not enough, but by cramping the hand that holds
the balance, and by impeachments or dissensions
with the nobles, endeavour still for more, I cannot
possibly see, in the common course of things, how
the same causes can produce different effects and
consequences among us from what they did in
Greece and Rome.
296
CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS IN ATHENS AND ROME.
There is one thing I must needs add, though I
reckon it will appear to many as a very unreasonable
paradox. When the act passed some years ago
against bribing of elections, I remember to have
said upon occasion, to some persons of both houses,
that we should be very much deceived in the con-
sequences of that act: and upon some discourse of
the conveniences of it, and the contrary (which
will admit reasoning enough), they seemed to be
of the same opinion. It has appeared since that
our conjectures were right: for I think the late
parliament was the first fruits of that act; the pro-
ceedings whereof, as well as of the present, have
been such as to make many persons wish that
things were upon the old foot in that matter.
Whether it be that so great a reformation was too
many degrees beyond so corrupt an age as this, or
that, according to the present turn and disposition
of men in our nation, it were a less abuse to bribe
elections than leave them to the discretion of the
choosers. This at least was Cato's opinion when
things in Rome were at a crisis much resembling
ours; who is recorded to have gone about with
great industry, dealing money among the people to
favour Pompey (as I remember) upon a certain
election in opposition to Cæsar; and he excused
himself in it upon the necessities of the occasion
and the corruptions of the people: an action that
might well have excused Cicero's censure of him,
that he reasoned and acted tanquam in Republica
Platonis, non in fæce Romuli. However it be, it is
certain that the talents which qualify a man for
the service of his country in parliament are very
different from those which give him a dexterity at
PREFACE.
| making his court to the people, and do not often
meet in the same subject. Then for the moral
part, the difference is inconsiderable; and whoever
practises upon the weakness and vanity of the
people is guilty of an immoral action as much as
if he did it upon their avarice. Besides, the two
trees may be judged by their fruits. The former
produces a set of popular men, fond of their own
merits and abilities, their opinions and their elo-
quence, whereas the bribing of elections, though a
great and shameful evil, seems to be at present but
an ill means of keeping things upon the old foot,
by leaving the defence of our properties chiefly in
the hands of those who will be the greatest suffer-
ers whenever they are endangered.
It is easy
to observe in the late and present parliament that
several boroughs and some counties have been re-
presented by persons who little thought to have
ever had such hopes before: and how far this may
proceed when such a way is laid open for the exer-
cise and encouragement of popular arts one may
best judge from the consequences that the same
causes produced both in Athens and Rome.
let speculative men reason or rather refine as they
please, it ever will be true among us, that as long
as men engage in the public service upon private
ends, and whilst all pretences to a sincere Roman
love of our country are looked upon as an affec-
tation, a foppery, or a disguise (which has been
a good while our case, and is likely to continue
so), it will be safer to trust our property and con-
stitution in the hands of such who have paid for
their election than of those who have obtained
them by servile flatteries of the people.
THE EXAMINER.
On the 3rd of August, 1710, appeared the first number of
"The Examiner," the ablest vindication of the measures of the
queen and her new ministry. "About a dozen of these papers,'
Dr Swift tells us, "written with much spirit and sharpness,
some by secretary St. John, since lord Bolingbroke; others by
Dr. Atterbury, since bishop of Rochester; and others again by
Mr. Prior, Dr. Freind, &c., were published with great applause.
But these gentlemen being grown weary of the work, or other-
wise employed, the determination was that I should continue it;
which I did accordingly eight months. But, my style being
soon discovered, and having contracted a great number of
enemies, I let it fall into other hands, who heid it up in some
manner until her majesty's death.'
The original institutors are supposed to have employed Dr.
King as the publisher, or ostensible author, before they prevailed
on their great champion to undertake that task. Mr. Oldmixon
thought that Mr. Prior had a principal hand in the early num-
bers; and it is well known that he wrote No. 6, professedly
against Dr. Garth. No. 8 and No. 9 were written either by
Dr. Friend or Mr. St. John, or by both in conjunction. Dr.
King was the author of No. 11 and of No. 12. Who was the
anthor of No. 13 does not appear; but it is remarkable that,
when the Examiners were first collected by Mr. Barber into a
volume, No. 13 was omitted; the original 14 being then mark ed
13; and so on to 35 inclusive, which is marked 44; and this
misarrangement was of course continued by Dr. Hawkesworth
and Mr. Sheridan; a circumstance the more worthy of notice,
as the paper omitted is a curious defence of passive obedience,
not inferior perhaps in point of sophistry to any in the whole
collection.
"
After the 13th number the undertaking was carried on
wholly by Dr. Swift, who commenced a regular series of politics
with No. 14, Nov. 2, 1710. Get the Examiners," he says to
Mrs Johnson, "and read them. The last nine or ten are full
of the reasons of the late change and of the abuses of the last
ministry; and the great men assure me they are all true.
They are written by their encouragement and direction."-It
appears, however, by a subsequent letter, Feb. 9, that "Mr.
Prior was like to be insulted in the street for being supposed to
be author of it; but one of the last papers,' Swift adds,
"cleared him. Nobody knows who it is, but those few in the
secret; I suppose the ministry and the printer."
A contemporary writer, May 3, 1711, says, "The Examiner is
•
For,
a paper which all men who speak without prejudice allow to
be well written. Though his subject will admit of no great
variety, he is continually placing it in so many different lights,
and endeavouring to inculcate the same thing by so many
beautiful changes of expression, that men who are concerned
in no party may read him with pleasure. His way of assuming
the question in debate is extremely artful; and his Letter to
Crassus is, I think, a masterpiece. As these papers are sup-
posed to have been written by several hands, the critics will tell
you that they discover a difference in their styles and beauties;
and pretend to observe that the first Examiners abound chiefly
in wit, the last in humour. Soon after their first appearance,
came out a paper from the other side, called the Whig Ex-
aminer,' written with so much fire, and in so excellent a style,
as put the Tories in no small pain for their favourite hero:
every one cried, 'Bickerstaff must be the author;' and people
were the more coufirmed in this opinion upon its being
so soon laid down, which seemed to show that it was
only written to bind the Examiners to their good behavi-
our, and was never designed to be a weekly paper. The Ex-
aminers therefore have no one to combat with at present but
their friend the Medley; the author of which paper, though he
seems to be a man of good sense, and expresses it luckily
enough now and then, is, I think, for the most part, perfectly a
stranger to fine writing. I presume I need not tell you that
the Examiner carries much the more sail, as it is supposed to
be written by the direction, and under the eye, of some great
persons who sit at the helm of affairs, and is consequently
looked on as a sort of public notice which way they are steering
The reputed author is Dr. Swift, with the assistance some-
times of Dr. Atterbury and Mr. Prior."a
us.
Having completed the design which first engaged him in the
undertaking with No. 45, June 7, 1711, Dr. Swift then took his
leave of the town in the last paragraph of that number, and
on the same day wrote thus to Mrs. Johnson: "As for the
Examiner, I have heard a whisper, that after that of this day,
which tells what this parliament have done, you will hardly
find them so good. I prophesy they will be trash for the future.
Methinks, in this day's Examiner the author speaks doubtfully,
as if he would write no more. Observe whether the change
be discovered in Dublin, only for your own curiosity, that's all.'
From this time Swift had no farther concern with the publi
0
"Present State of Wit," supposed to be written by Mr. Gay.
THE EXAMINER.
297
cation, except by assisting in the single number of the succeed-
ing week.
The Examiner indeed still continued to be published; but it
sunk immediately into rudeness and ill manners, being written
by some under pur-leathers in the city, whose scurrility was
encouraged (as Swift himself did not scruple to own) by the
ministry themselves, who employed this paper to return the
Grub-street invectives thrown out by the authors of the Medley,
the Englishman, and some other detracting papers of the same
stamp.
It is now no longer a secret that No. 46 was written by Mrs.
Manley, with the assistance of Dr. Swift, and that the next six
numbers were also by the same hand. On the 22nd June (the
day after No. 47 was published) Swift says, "Yesterday was
a sad Examiner; and last week's was very indifferent; though
some scraps of the old spirit, as if he had given hints;" and on
the 15th of July, "I do not like anything in the Examiner after
the 45th, except the first part of the 46th."-Mrs. Manley's
last paper was No. 52, July 26; and in a letter dated Nov. 3,
1711, Swift says, "The first thirteen Examiners were written
by several hands, some good, some bad; the next three-and-
thirty were all by one hand; that makes forty-six: then the
author, whoever he was, laid it down, on purpose to confound
guessers; and the last six were written by a woman.
printer is going to print them in a small volume; it seems the
author is too proud to have them printed by subscription, though
his friends offered, they say, to make it worth 500l. to him."
The
On the 6th of December following the work was resumed by
Oldisworth, who completed four volumes more, and pub-
lished nineteen numbers more of the sixth volume, when
the queen's death put an end to the work. During this long
period the only articles that are known to be by Dr. Swift are,
a hint which he gave about the prorogation of the parliament,
and to praise the queen for her tenderness to the Dutch, in giving
them still time to submit, which he notices to Mrs. Jolinson,
Jan. 15, 1712-13; and says, It suited the occasions at present,'
The vindication of his friend Mr. Lewis in No. 21 of the third
volume, Feb. 2, 1712-13, which is printed at length in the
fourth volume of the present edition, is undoubtedly Swift's;
which he more than once acknowledges in his Journal to Stella,
Jan. 27, Jan. 31, and Feb. 1.
The public at large, however, still considered the paper to be
under the management of Swift, who tells Mrs. Johnson,
March 23, 1712-13, "The Examiner has cleared me to-day of
being author of his paper, and done it with great civilities to
me. I hope it will stop people's mouths; if not, they must
go
on and be hanged; I care not."-The letter alluded to has the
following passage in the 35th number of vol. iii., in which Mr.
Oldisworth, speaking of some of his opponents, says, "I shall
at once ease them of a great deal of guilt, as well as importance,
by putting a final stop to some of their daily clamours, and for
ever shutting up one of their most liberal sluices of scandal.
They have been a long time laying a load upon a gentleman of
the first character for learning, good sense, wit, and more virtues
than even they can set off and illustrate by all the opposition
and extremes of vice which are the compounds of their party.
He is indeed fully accomplished to be mortally hated by them;
and they needed not to charge him with writing the Examiner,
as if that were a sufficient revenge, in which they show as little
judgment as truth. I here pronounce him clear of that imputa-
tion, and, out of pure regard to justice, strip myself of all the
honour that lucky untruth did this paper; reserving to myself
the entertaining reflection that I was once taken for a man who
a "I have instructed an under spur-leather to write so that it
is taken for mine." Journal to Stella, Oct. 10, 1711. This was
probably the under-strapper noticed Nov. 26, 1711, whom he
elsewhere calls, "a scrub instrument of mischief of mine."
"C
b Of Mr. William Oldisworth little is now remembered but
the titles of some of his literary productions. He was editor of
the Muses' Mercury, 1707; and published, 1. "A Dialogue
between Timothy and Philatheus, in which the Principles and
Projects of a late whimsical Book, entitled the Rights of the
Christian Church, &c., are fairly stated, and answered in their
kind, &c. By a Layman, 1709, 1710," 3 vols. 8vo. 2. “A
Vindication of the Bishop of Exeter (Dr. Blackall) against Mr.
Houdly." 3. A volume called State Tracts," 4. Another
called "State and Miscellany Poems, by the Author of the
Examiner, 1715," 8vo. 5. He translated the "Odes, Epodes,
and Carmen Seculare of Horace." 6. The "Life of Edmund
Smith," prefixed to his works, written "with all the partiality
of friendship;" said by Dr. Burton to show "what fine things
one man of parts can say of another;" and which Dr. Johnson
has honoured by incorporating it into his biographical preface
on Smith.-That Oldisworth had an attachment to the abdicated
royal family is admitted; which gave occasion to a report in
the Weekly Packet, Jan. 17, 1715-16, that he was killed with
his sword in his hand in the eugagement at Preston, in com-
pany with several others who had the same fate; having resolved
not to survive the loss of the battle." But this report was
groundless; as he lived till Sept. 15, 1734.
No. 19 was published July 26, 1714; and on the 8th of
October came out the first number of "The Controller, being
a Sequel to the Examiner;" published also by Morphew.
has a thousand other recommendations, besides the notice of
the worst men, to make him loved and esteemed by the best.
This is the second time I have humoured that party by publicly
declaring who is not the author of the Examiner. I will lend
them no more light, because they do not love it. I could only
wish that their invectives against that gentleman had been consi-
derable enough to call forth his public resentments; and I stand
amazed at their folly in provoking so much ruin to their party.
Their intellectuals must be as stupid as their consciences, not
to dread the terrors of his pen, though they met him with all
that spite to his person which they ever expressed against his
order."
May 12, 1713, after several sparrings between the Examiner
and the Guardian, Steele thus indirectly states in the Guardian,
No. 53, that the Examiner was written either by Dr. Swift or
Mrs. Manley: "I have been told by familiar friends that
they saw me such a time talking to the Examiner; others, who
have rallied me upon the sins of my youth, tell me it is credi-
bly reported that I have formerly lain with the Examiner. I
nave carried my point, and rescued innocence from calumny;
and it is nothing to me whether the Examiner writes against
me in the character of an estranged friend or an exasperated
mistress."-This paragraph raised the indignation of Swift ;a
who complained of it to their common friend Mr. Addison.
"Is he so ignorant," Swift says, "of my temper and of my
style? Had he never heard that the author of the Examiner
(to whom I am altogether a stranger) did a month or two ago
vindicate me from having any concern with it? Should not Mr.
Steele have first expostulated with me as a friend ?"— In a letter
which this produced from Seele it being still insinuated that
Swift was an accomplice of the Examiner, he thus indignantly
repels the charge: "I appeal to your most partial friends,
whether you might not either have asked or written to me, or
desired to have been informed by a third hand, whether I were
And if I had
any way concerned in writing the Examiner.
shuffled, or answered indirectly, or affirmed it, or said I would
not give you satisfaction, you might then have wreaked your
I have several times
revenge with some colour of justice.
assured Mr. Addison, and fifty others, that I had not the least
hand in writing any of those papers; and that I had never
exchanged one syllable with the supposed author in my life,
that I can remember, nor even seen him above twice, and that
in mixed company, or in a place where he came to pay his
attendance."
>>
"
*
Of Swift's Examiners, Dr. Johnson observes that “in argu-
ment he may be allowed to have the advantage; for, where
a wide system of conduct and the whole of a public character
is laid open to inquiry, the accuser, having the choice of facts,
must be very unskilful if he does not prevail."-Lord Orrery,
who commends the Examiners for the "nervous style, clear
diction, and great knowledge of the true landed interest of
England," observes that "their author was elated with the ap-
pearance of enjoying ministerial confidence ;" that he was
employed, not trusted." Remarks, &c., Letter iv. The earl of
Chesterfield also asserts that "the lie of the day was coined
and delivered out to him, to write Examiners and other poli-
tical papers upon."
It may be proper, however, to take notice.
that neither of these noble peers appear to have seen Swift's
"Preface" to his "History of the Four last Years of the Queen;
and, with all due deference to these great authorities, the
present Editor cannot but be of opinion that Swift's manly
fortitude and very accurate discernment of the human heart
would have prevented his being a dupe to the intrigues of a
statesman, however dignified. He himself assures us that he
was of a temper to think no man great enough to set him on
work; that he absolutely refused to be chaplain to the lord-
treasurer, because he thought it would ill become him to be in
a state of dependence." Indeed his whole conduct in that busy
period (in which "it was his lot to have been daily conversant
with the persons then in power; never absent in times of busi-
ness or conversation, until a few weeks before her majesty's
death; and a witness of every step they made in the course of
their administration") demonstrates the respectable situation
he then so ably filled. And when at last the time arrived in
which he was to be rewarded for his services, in how different
a light does he appear from that of a hireling writer! He
frankly told the treasurer "he could not with any reputation
stay longer here, unless he had something honourable imme-
diately given to him." Whilst his noble patrons were unde-
termined whether he should be promoted to St. Patrick's or to
a stall at Windsor, he openly assured lord Bolingbroke" he
would not stay for their disputes." And we find he exerted his
interest so effectually with the duke of Ormond as to overrulo
a prejudice that nobleman had conceived against Dr. Sterne,
A
"In the latter part of Swift's life affliction throws a sa
credness around him that sets discernment and discrimination
at defiance. My eye tries in vain to get a glimpse of his fea-
tures; it can see nothing distinctly for tears. But in his best
condition, his virulent treatment of Steele, and his very many
unaccountable instances of insolence and caprice, seem to have
been indications or ebullitions of that insanity which afterwards
overpowered him." Dr. Calder, in the notes on the Tatler, 1786
vol. v. p. 311.
298
THE EXAMINER.
the nation. And these are what upon occasion I
shall endeavour to overthrow by discovering the
falsehood and absurdity of them.
whose promotion to the see of Dromore made the vacancy at St.
Patrick's. "The duke, with great kindness, said he would
consent; but would do it for no man else but me.'
Swift ac-
knowledges "this affair was carried with great difficulty;" but
adds, "they say here it is much to my reputation that I have
made a bishop in spite of the world, and to get the best deanery
in Ireland."
No. 14.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1710.
longa est injuria, longæ
Ambages; sed summa sequar fastigia rerum.
The tale is intricate, perplex'd, and long;
Hear then, in short, the story of her wrong.
IT is a practice I have generally followed to converse
in equal freedom with the deserving men of both
parties; and it was never without some contempt that
I have observed persons wholly out of employment
affect to do otherwise. I doubted whether any man
could owe so much to the side he was of, although
he were retained by it; but without some great point
of interest, either in possession or prospect, I thought
it was the mark of a low and narrow spirit.
But
It is hard that for some weeks past I have been
forced, in my own defence, to follow a proceeding
that I have so much condemned in others.
several of my acquaintance among the declining party
are grown so insufferably peevish and splenetic, pro-
fess such violent apprehensions for the public, and
represent the state of things in such formidable
ideas, that I find myself disposed to share in their
afflictions, although I know them to be groundless
and imaginary, or, which is worse, purely affected.
To offer them comfort one by one would be not only
an endless, but a disobliging task. Some of them,
I am convinced, would be less melancholy if there
were more occasion. I shall, therefore, instead of
hearkening to further complaints, employ some part
of this paper for the future in letting such men see
that their natural or acquired fears are ill founded,
and their artificial ones as ill intended; that all our
present inconveniences are the consequence of the
very counsels they so much admire, which would
still have increased if those had continued; and
that neither our constitution in church or state could
probably have been long preserved without such
methods as have been already taken.
The late revolutions at court have given room to
some specious objections, which I have heard re-
peated by well-meaning men, just as they had taken
them up on the credit of others who have worse
designs. They wonder the queen would choose to
change her ministry at this juncture, and thereby
give uneasiness to a general who hath been so long
successful abroad, and might think himself injured,
if the entire ministry were not of his own nomina-
tion; that there were few complaints of any conse-
quence against the late men in power, and none at
all in parliament, which, on the contrary, passed
votes in favour of the chief minister; that if her
majesty had a mind to introduce the other party, it
would have been more seasonable after a peace,
which now we have made desperate, by spiriting the
French, who rejoice in these changes, and by the fall
of our credit, which unqualifies us for carrying on
the war; that the parliament, so untimely dissolved,
had been diligent in their supplies and dutiful
in their behaviour; that one consequence of these
changes appears already in the fall of the stocks;
that we may soon expect more and worse; and
lastly, that all this naturally tends to break the set-
tlement of the crown, and call over the pretender.
These and the like notions are plentifully scattered
abroad by the malice of a ruined party, to render the
queen and her administration odious, and to inflame
It is a great unhappiness when, in a government
constituted like ours, it should be so brought about
that the continuance of a war must be for the interest
of vast numbers (civil as well as military), who
otherwise would have been as unknown as their ori-
ginal. I think our present condition of affairs is
admirably described by two verses in Lucan :
Hinc usura vorax, avidumque in tempore foenus,
Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum:
which, without any great force upon the words, may
be thus translated:
Hence are derived those exorbitant interests and
annuities; hence those large discounts for advance
and prompt payment; hence public credit is shaken;
and hence great numbers find their profit in prolong-
ing the war.
It is odd that among a free trading people, as we
call ourselves, there should so many be found to close
in with those counsels, who have been ever averse
from all overtures towards a peace: but yet there is
no great mystery in the matter. Let any man ob-
serve the equipages in this town, he shall find the
greater number of those who make a figure to be a
species of men quite different from any that were
ever known before the Revolution; consisting either
of generals and colonels, or of those whose whole.
fortunes lie in funds and stocks; so that power,
which, according to the old maxim, was used to
follow land, is now gone over to money; and the
country gentleman is in the condition of a young
heir, out of whose estate a scrivener receives half the
rents for interest, and has a mortgage on the whole;
and is therefore always ready to feed his vices and
extravagances while there is anything left. So that,
if the war continues some years longer, a landed
man will be little better than a farmer of a rack-rent
to the army and to the public funds.
It may perhaps be worth inquiring from what
beginnings, and by what steps, we have been brought
into this desperate condition: and in search of this
we must run up as high as the Revolution.
Most of the nobility and gentry, who invited over
the prince of Orange, or attended him in his expe-
dition, were true lovers of their country and its
constitution in church and state; and were brought
to yield to those breaches in the succession of the
crown out of a regard to the necessity of the king-
dom and the safety of the people, which did and
could only make them lawful; but without intention
of drawing such a practice into precedent, or making
it a standing measure by which to proceed in all
times to come: and therefore we find their counsels
ever tended to keep things as much as possible in
the old course. But soon after, an under set of men,
who had nothing to lose, and had neither borne the
burden nor heat of the day, found means to whisper
in the king's ear that the principles of loyalty in
the church of England were wholly inconsistent
with the Revolution. Hence began the early prac.
tice of caressing the dissenters, reviling the univer-
sities as maintainers of arbitrary power, and reproach-
ing the clergy with the doctrines of divine right, pas-
sive obedience, and non-resistance. At the same
time, in order to fasten wealthy people to the new
government, they proposed those pernicious expc-
dients of borrowing money by vast premiums, and
at extortionate interest: a practice as old as Eumenes,
one of Alexander's captains, who, setting up for
himself after the death of his master, persuaded his
principal officers to lend him great sums, after which
they were forced to follow him for their own security.
THE EXAMINER.
209
of the disposition of the people for changing the
parliament and ministry at this juncture, and extricat-
ing herself as soon as possible out of the pupilage
of those who found their accounts only in perpetuat-
ing the war. Neither have we the least reason to
doubt but the ensuing parliament will assist her
majesty with the utmost vigour, until her enemies
again be brought to sue for peace, and again offer
such terms as will make it both honourable and last-
ing; only with this difference, that the ministry per-
will not again refuse them.
Audiet pugnas, vitio parentum
Rara, Juventus.
This introduced a number of new dexterous men
into business and credit. It was argued that the
war could not last above two or three campaigns,
and that it was easier for the subjects to raise a fund
for paying interest than to tax them annually to the
full expense of the war. Several persons who had
small or encumbered estates sold them, and turned
their money into those funds, to great advantage:
merchants, as well as other moneyed men, finding
trade was dangerous, pursued the same method.
But the war continuing, and growing more expen-haps
sive, taxes were increased, and funds multiplied
every year, till they have arrived at the monstrous
height we now behold them; and that which was
at first a corruption is at last grown necessary, and
what every good subject must now fall in with,
although he may be allowed to wish it might soon
have an end; because it is with a kingdom as with a
private fortune, where every new incumbrance adds
a double weight. By this means the wealth of a
nation, that used to be reckoned by the value of land,
is now computed by the rise and fall of stocks: and
although the foundation of credit be still the same,
and upon a bottom that can never be shaken, and
although all interest be duly paid by the public,
yet, through the contrivance and cunning of stock-
jobbers, there has been brought in such a complica-
tion of knavery and cozenage, such a mystery of
iniquity, and such an unintelligible jargon of terms
to involve it in, as were never known in any other
age or country in the world. I have heard it affirmed,.
by persons skilled in these calculations, that, if the
funds appropriated to the payment of interest and
annuities were added to the yearly taxes, and the
four-shilling aid strictly exacted in all counties of the
kingdom, it would very near, if not fully, supply the
occasions of the war, at least such a part as, in the
opinion of very able persons, had been at that time
prudent not to exceed. For I make it a question
whether any wise prince or state, in the continuance
of a war which was not purely defensive, or imme-
diately at his own door, did ever propose that his
expense should perpetually exceed what he was able
to impose annually upon his subjects. Neither, if
Neither, if
the war last many years longer, do I see how the next
generation will be able to begin another; which, in
the course of human affairs, and according to the
various interests and ambition of princes, may be as
necessary for them as it has been for us. And if
our fathers had left us deeply involved, as we are
likely to leave our children, I appeal to any man
what sort of figure we should have been able to
make these twenty years past. Besides, neither our
enemies nor allies are upon the same foot with us in
this particular. France and Holland, our nearest
neighbours, and the farthest engaged, will much
sooner recover themselves after a war: the first,
by the absolute power of the prince, who, being
master of the lives and fortunes of his subjects, will
quickly find expedients to pay his debts; and so
will the other, by their prudent administration, the
greatness of their trade, their wonderful parsimony,
the willingness of their people to undergo all kind of
taxes, and their justice in applying as well as collect-
ing them. But above all we are to consider that
France and Holland fight on the continent, either
upon or near their own territories, and the greatest
part of the money circulates among themselves,
whereas ours crosses the sea, either to Flanders,
Spain, or Portugal; and every penny of it, whether
in specie or returns, is so much lost to the nation
for ever.
Upon these considerations alone, it was the most
prudent course imaginable in the queen to lay hold
No. 15.
Hon. book i. Ode 2.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1710.
E quibus hi vacuas implent sermonibus aures,
Hi narrata ferunt alio: mensuraque ficti
Crescit, et auditis aliquid novus adjicit auctor.
Illic Credulitas, illic temerarius Error,
Vanaque Lætitia est, consternatique Timores,
Seditioque recens, dubioque auctore Susurri.
With idle tales this fills our empty ears;
The next reports what from the first he hears
The rolling fictions grow in strength and size,
Each author adding to the former lies.
Here vain credulity, with new desires,
Leads us astray, and groundless joy inspires;
The dubious whispers, tumults fresh design'd,
And chilling fears astound the anxious mind.
66
I AM prevailed on, through the importunity of
friends, to interrupt the scheme I had begun in my
last paper, by an essay upon the Art of Political
Lying." We are told the devil is the father of lies,
and was a liar from the beginning; so that, beyond
contradiction, the invention is old: and, which is
more, his first Essay of it was purely political, em-
ployed in undermining the authority of his prince,
and seducing a third part of the subjects from their
obedience: for which he was driven down from
heaven, where (as Milton expresses it) he had been
viceroy of a great western province; and forced to
exercise his talent in inferior regions among other
fallen spirits, poor or deluded men, whom he still
daily tempts to his own sin, and will ever do so, till
he be chained in the bottomless pit.
But although the devil be the father of lies, he
seems, like the great inventors, to have lost much of
his reputation by the continual improvements that
have been made upon him.
Who first reduced lying into an art, and adapted
it to politics, is not so clear from history, although
I have made some diligent inquiries. I shall there-
fore consider it only according to the modern sys-
tem, as it has been cultivated these twenty years
past in the southern part of our own island.
The poets tell us that, after the giants were over-
thrown by the gods, the Earth in revenge produced
her last offspring, which was Fame. And the fable
is thus interpreted: that when tumults and sedi-
tions are quieted, rumours and false reports are
plentifully spread through a nation. So that, by
this account, lying is the last relief of a routed, earth-
born, rebellious party in a state.
But here the mo-
derns have made great additions, applying their art
to the gaining of power and preserving it, as well as
revenging themselves after they have lost it; as the
same instruments are made use of by animals to feed
themselves when they are hungry, and to bite those
that tread upon them.
But the same genealogy cannot always be admit-
ted for political lying; I shall therefore desire to
refine upon it, by adding some circumstances of its
birth and parents. A political lie is sometimes born
out of a discarded statesman's head and thence de-
300
THE EXAMINER.
livered to be nursed and dandled by the rabble.
Sometimes it is produced a monster, and licked into
shape at other times it comes into the world com-
pletely formed, and is spoiled in the licking. It is
often born an infant in the regular way, and re-
quires time to mature it; and often it sees the light
in its full growth, but dwindles away by degrees.
Sometimes it is of noble birth, and sometimes the
spawn of a stock-jobber. Here it screams aloud
at the opening of the womb, and there it is deli-
vered with a whisper. I know a lie that now dis-
turbs half the kingdom with its noise, which, al-
though too proud and great at present to own its
parents, I can remember its whisperhood. To con-
clude the nativity of this monster; when it comes
into the world without a sting it is still-born; and
whenever it loses its sting it dies.
No wonder if an infant so miraculous in its birth
should be destined for great adventures; and accord-
ingly we see it has been the guardian spirit of a pre-
vailing party for almost twenty years. It can con-
quer kingdoms without fighting, and sometimes with
the loss of a battle. It gives and resumes employ-
ments; can sink a mountain to a mole-hill, and raise
a mole-hill to a mountain: has presided for many
years at committees of elections; can wash a black-
moor white; make a saint of an atheist, and a pa-
triot of a profligate; can furnish foreign ministers
with intelligence, and raise or let fall the credit of
the nation. This goddess flies with a huge looking-
glass in her hands, to dazzle the crowd, and make
them see, according as she turns it, their ruin in
their interest, and their interest in their ruin.
this glass you will behold your best friends, clad in
coats powdered with fleurs de lis and triple crowns;
their girdles hung round with chains, and beads, and
wooden shoes; and your worst enemies adorned with
the ensigns of liberty, property, indulgence, mode-
ration, and a cornucopia in their hands. Her large
wings, like those of a flying-fish, are of no use but
while they are moist; she therefore dips them in
mud, and, soaring aloft, scatters it in the eyes of
the multitude, flying with great swiftness; but at
every turn is forced to stoop in dirty ways for new
supplies.
In
I have been sometimes thinking, if a man had the
art of the second sight for seeing lies, as they have
in Scotland for seeing spirits, how admirably he
might entertain himself in this town, by observing
the different shapes, sizes, and colours of those
swarms of lies which buzz about the heads of some
people, like flies about a horse's ears in summer; or
those legions hovering every afternoon in Exchange-
alley, enough to darken the air; or over a club of
discontented grandees, and thence sent down in car-
goes to be scattered at elections.
In de-
There is one essential point wherein a political
liar differs from others of the faculty, that he ought
to have but a short memory, which is necessary,
according to the various occasions he meets with
every hour of differing from himself, and swearing
to both sides of a contradiction, as he finds the per-
sons disposed with whom he has to deal.
scribing the virtues and vices of mankind, it is con-
venient, upon every article, to have some eminent
person in our eye, from whom we copy our descrip-
tion. I have strictly observed this rule, and my
imagination this minute represents before me a cer-
tain great man (earl of Wharton) famous for his
talent, to the constant practice of which he owes his
twenty years' reputation of the most skilful head in
England for the management of nice affairs.
superiority of his genius consists in nothing else but
an inexhaustible fund of political lies, which he plen-
The
|
|
tifully distributes every minute he speaks, and by
an unparalleled generosity forgets, and consequently
contradicts, the next half-hour. He never yet cou-
sidered whether any proposition were true or false,
but whether it were convenient for the present mi-
nute or company to affirm or deny it; so that, if you
think fit to refine upon him, by interpreting every-
thing he says, as we do dreams, by the contrary, you
are still to seek, and will find yourself equally de-
ceived whether you believe or not the only remedy
is to suppose that you have heard some inarticulate
sounds, without any meaning at all; and besides,
that will take off the horror you might be apt to
conceive at the oaths wherewith he perpetually tags
both ends of every proposition; although, at the
same time, I think he cannot with any justice be
taxed with perjury when he invokes God and
Christ, because he has often fairly given public no-
tice to the world that he believes in neither.
:
Some people may think that such an accomplish-
ment as this can be of no great use to the owner, or
his party, after it has been often practised and is be-
come notorious; but they are widely mistaken. Few
lies carry the inventor's mark, and the most prosti-
tute enemy to truth may spread a thousand without
being known for the author: besides, as the vilest
writer has his readers, so the greatest liar has his be-
lievers and it often happens that, if a lie be be-
lieved only for an hour, it has done its work, and
there is no further occasion for it. Falsehood flies,
and truth comes limping after it, so that when men
come to be undeceived it is too late; the jest is
over, and the tale has had its effect: like a man
who has thought of a good repartee when the dis-
course is changed or the company parted; or like a
physician who has found out an infallible medicine
after the patient is dead.
Considering that natural disposition in many men
to lie, and in multitudes to believe, I have been per-
plexed what to do with that maxim so frequent in
everybody's mouth, that truth will at last prevail.
Here has this island of ours, for the greatest part of
twenty years, lain under the influence of such coun-
sels and persons, whose principle and interest it was
to corrupt our manners, blind our understanding,
drain our wealth, and in time destroy our constitu-
tion both in church and state, and we at last were
brought to the very brink of ruin; yet, by the means
of perpetual misrepresentations, have never been
able to distinguish between our enemies and friends.
We have seen a great part of the nation's money got
into the hands of those who, by their birth, educa-
tion, and merit, could pretend no higher than to
wear our liveries; while others, who, by their credit,
quality, and fortune, were only able to give reputa-
tion and success to the Revolution, were not only
laid aside as dangerous and useless, but loaded with
the scandal of Jacobites, men of arbitrary principles,
and pensioners to France; while truth, who is said
to lie in a well, seemed now to be buried there under
But I remember it was a usual
a heap of stones.
complaint among the Whigs, that the bulk of the
landed men was not in their interests, which some
of the wisest looked on as an ill omen; and we saw
it with the utmost difficulty that they could preserve
a majority, while the court and ministry were on
their side, till they had learned those admirable ex-
pedients for deciding elections and influencing dis-
tant boroughs by powerful motives from the city.
But all this was mere force and constraint, however
upheld by most dexterous artifice and management,
until the people began to apprehend their properties,
their religion, and the monarchy itself in danger;
when we saw them greedily laying hold on the first
THE EXAMINER.
301
occasion to interpose. But of this mighty change in
the dispositions of the people I shall discourse more
at large in some following paper: wherein I shall
endeavour to undeceive or discover those deluded or
deluding persons who hope or pretend it is only a
short madness in the vulgar, from which they may
soon recover; whereas, I believe it will appear to
be very different in its causes, its symptoms, and its
consequences; and prove a great example to illus-
trate the maxim I lately mentioned, that truth (how-
ever sometimes late) will at last prevail.
No. 16.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1710.
medioque ut limite curras,
Icare, ait, moneo: ne si demissior ibis,
Unda gravet pennas; si celsior, ignis adurat.
My boy, take care
To wing thy course along the middle air :
If low, the surges wet thy flagging plumes;
If high, the sun the melting wax consumes.
Ir must be avowed that for some years past there
have been few things more wanted in England than
such a paper as this ought to be: and such I will
endeavour to make it as long as it shall be found of
any use, without entering into the violences of either
party. Considering the many grievous misrepresent-
ations of persons and things, it is highly requisite at
this juncture that the people throughout the king-
dom should, if possible, be set right in their opinions
by some impartial hand, which has never been yet
attempted; those who have hitherto undertaken it
being, upon every account, the least qualified of all
human kind for such work.
We live here under a limited monarchy, and under
the doctrine and discipline of an excellent church.
We are unhappily divided into two parties, both
which pretend a mighty zeal for our religion and
government, only they disagree about the means.
The evils we must fence against are, on one side,
fanaticism and infidelity in religion, and anarchy,
under the name of a commonwealth, in government;
on the other side, popery, slavery, and the pretender
from France. Now, to inform and direct us in our
sentiments upon these weighty points, here are, on
one side, two stupid illiterate scribblers, both of
them fanatics by profession, I mean the Review and
Observator; on the other side, we have an open
Nonjuror, whose character and person, as well as
learning and good sense, discovered upon other
subjects, do indeed deserve respect and esteem;
but his Rehearsal and the rest of his political papers
are yet more pernicious than those of the former two.
If the generality of the people know not how to talk or
think until they have read their lesson in the papers
of the week, what a misfortune is it that their duty
should be conveyed to them through such vehicles
as those! For, let some gentlemen think what they
please, I cannot but suspect that the two worthies I
first mentioned have, in a degree, done mischief
among us; the mock authoritative manner of the one,
and the insipid mirth of the other, however insup-
portable to reasonable ears, being of a level with great
numbers among the lowest part of mankind. Nei-
ther was the author of the Rehearsal, while he con-
tinued that paper, less infectious to many persons of
better figure, who, perhaps, were as well qualified,
and much less prejudiced, to judge for themselves.
It was this reason that moved me to take the
matter out of those rough as well as those dirty
hands; to let the remote and uninstructed part of
the nation see that they have been misled on both
sides by mad ridiculous extremes, at a wide dis-
❘
tance on each side of the truth; while the right path
is so broad and plain as to be easily kept if they were
once put into it.
Further I had lately entered on a resolution to
take little notice of other papers, unless it were such
where the malice and falsehood had so great a mix-
ture of wit and spirit as would make them danger-
ous; which, in the present circle of scribblers, from
twelvepence to a halfpenny, I could easily foresee
would not very frequently occur. But here again I
am forced to dispense with my resolution, although
it be only to tell my reader what measures I am
likely to take on such occasions for the future. I
was told that the paper called The Observator was
twice filled last week with remarks upon a late
Examiner. These I read with the first opportunity,
and, to speak in the news-writers' phrase, they gave
me occasion for many speculations. I observed
with singular pleasure the nature of those things
which the owners of them usually call answers, and
with what dexterity this matchless author had fallen
into the whole art and cant of them. To transcribe
here and there three or four detached lines of least
weight in a discourse, and by a foolish comment
mistake every syllable of the meaning, is what I
have known many, of a superior class to this for-
midable adversary, entitle an Answer. This is
what he has exactly done, in about thrice as many
words as my whole discourse; which is so mighty
an advantage over me, that I shall by no means en-
gage in so unequal a combat; but, as far as I can
judge of my own temper, entirely dismiss him for the
future; heartily wishing he had a match exactly of his
own size to meddle with, who should only have the
odds of truth and honesty, which, as I take it, would
be an effectual way to silence him for ever. Upon
this occasion I cannot forbear a short story of a
fanatic farmer, who lived in my neighbourhood, and
was so great a disputant in religion that the servants
in all the families thereabouts reported how he had
confuted the bishop and all his clergy. I had then
a footman who was fond of reading the Bible; and
I borrowed a comment for him, which he studied so
close that in a month or two I thought him a match
for the farmer. They disputed at several houses,
with a ring of servants and other people always
about them; where Ned explained his texts so full
and clear to the capacity of his audience, and showed
the insignificancy of his adversary's cant to the
meanest understanding, that he got the whole coun-
try on his side, and the farmer was cured of his itch
of disputation for ever after.
The worst of it is, that this sort of outrageous
party-writers I have spoken of above are like a
couple of makebates, who inflame small quarrels by
a thousand stories, and, by keeping friends at a dis-
tance, hinder them from coming to a good under-
standing, as they certainly would if they were suf-
fered to meet and debate between themselves; for
let any one examine a reasonable honest man, of
either side, upon those opinions in religion and
government which both parties daily buffet each
other about, he shall hardly find one material point
in difference between them. I would be glad to
ask a question about two great men of the late
ministry, how they came to be Whigs? and by what
figure of speech half a dozen others, lately put into
great employments, can be called Tories? I doubt
whoever would suit the definition to the persons,
must make it directly contrary to what we under-
stood it at the time of the Revolution.
1
In order to remove these misapprehensions among
us, I believe it will be necessary, upon occasion, to
detect the malice and falsehood of some popular
C
802
THE EXAMINER.
*
maxims, which those idiots scatter from the press
twice a-week, and draw a hundred absurd conse-
quences from them.
For example, I have heard it often objected, as a
great piece of insolence in the clergy and others, to
say or hint that the church was in danger, when it
was voted otherwise in parliament some years ago;
and the queen herself, in her last speech, did openly
condemn all such insinuations. Notwithstanding
which, I did then and do still believe the church
has, since that vote, been in very imminent danger;
and I think I might then have said so without the
least offence to her majesty or either of the two
houses. The queen's words, as near as I can re-
member, mentioned the church being in danger
from her administration; and whoever says or
thinks that deserves, in my opinion, to be hanged
for a traitor; but that the church and state may be
both in danger, under the best princes that ever
reigned, and without the least guilt of theirs, is such
a truth as a man must be a great stranger to history
and common sense to doubt. The wisest prince on
earth may be forced by the necessity of his affairs
and the present power of an unruly faction, or de-
ceived by the craft of ill-designing men.
One or
two ministers, most in his confidence, may at first
have good intentions, but grow corrupted by time,
by avarice, by love, by ambition, and have fairer
terms offered them to gratify their passions or in-
terests from one set of men than another, until they
are too far involved for a retreat, and so be forced
to take seven spirits more wicked than themselves.
This is a very possible case; and will not the last state
of such men be worse than the first? that is to say,
will not the public, which was safe at first, grow in
danger by such proceedings as these? And shall a
faithful subject, who foresees and trembles at the
consequences, be called disaffected because he de-
livers his opinion, although the prince declares, as
he justly may, that the danger is not owing to his
administration? or shall the prince himself be
blamed when, in such a juncture, he puts his
affairs into other hands, with the universal applause
of his people? As to the vote against those who
should affirm the church was in danger, I think it
likewise referred to danger from or under the
queen's administration; for I neither have it by me,
nor can suddenly have recourse to it; but, if it were
otherwise, I know not how it can refer to any dan-
gers but what were past, or at that time present; or
how it could affect the future, unless the senators
were all inspired, or at least that majority which
voted it neither do I see it is any crime, further
than ill manners, to differ in opinion from a majority
of either or both houses; and that ill manners,
must confess, I have been often guilty of for some
although I hope I never shall again.
years past, although I hope
Another topic of great use to these weekly in-
flamers is, the young pretender in France, to whom
their whole party is in a high measure indebted for
all their greatness; and whenever it lies in their
power they may perhaps return their acknowledg-
ments, as, out of their zeal for frequent revolutions,
they were ready to do to his supposed father, which
is a piece of secret history that I hope will one day
see the light; and I am sure it shall if ever I am
master of it, without regarding whose ears may
tingle. But at present the word pretender is a term
of art in their profession. A secretary of state can-
not desire leave to resign, but the pretender is at
bottom; the queen cannot dissolve a parliament,
but it is a plot to dethrone herself and bring in the
pretender; half-a-score stock-jobbers are playing
the knave in Exchange-alley, and there goes the
pretender with a sponge. One would be apt to
think they bawl out the pretender so often to take
off the terror, or tell so many lies about him to
slacken our caution, that when he is really coming,
by their connivance, we may not believe them, as
the boy served the shepherds about the coming of
the wolf; or perhaps they scare us with the pre-
tender because they think he may be like some
diseases that come with a fright. Do they not be-
lieve that the queen's present ministry love her ma-
jesty at least as well as some loved the church?
And why is it not as great a mark of disaffection
now to say the queen is in danger, as it was some
months ago to affirm the same of the church? Sup-
pose it be a false opinion that the queen's right is
hereditary and indefeasible; yet how is it possible
that those who hold and believe such a doctrine can be
in the pretender's interest? His title is weakened by
every argument that strengthens hers: it is as plain
as the words of an act of parliament can make it
that her present majesty is heir to the survivor of
the late king and queen, her sister: is not that an
hereditary right? What need we explain it any
further ? I have known an article of faith ex-
pounded in much looser and more general terms,
and that by an author whose opinions are very
much followed by a certain party. Suppose we go
further, and examine the word indefeasible, with
not.
which some writers of late have made themselves so
merry; I confess it is hard to conceive how any
law which the supreme power makes may not by
the same power be repealed; so that I shall not de-
termine whether the queen's right be indefeasible or
But this I will maintain, that whoever affirms
it is so is not guilty of a crime; for in that settle-
ment of the crown after the Revolution, where her
present majesty is named in remainder, there are (as
near as I can remember) these remarkable words, "to
which we bind ourselves and our posterity for ever.”
Lawyers may explain this, or call them words of
form, as they please; and reasoners may argue that
such an obligation is against the nature of govern-
ment; but a plain reader, who takes the words in
their natural meaning, may be excused in thinking
a right so confirmed is indefeasible; and if there be
an absurdity in such an opinion, he is not to answer
for it.
P.S. When this paper was going to the press, the
printer brought me two more Observators, wholly
taken up in my Examiner upon lying, which I was
at the pains to read; and they are just such an an-
swer as the two others I have mentioned. This is
all I have to say on that matter.
No. 17.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1710.
Qui sunt boni cives? Qui belli, qui domi de patriâ bene
merentes, nisi qui patriæ beneficia meminerunt?
Who is the good and laudable citizen? Who in peace, or who
in war, has merited the favour of his country? Who but
that person who with gratitude remembers and acknow-
ledges the favours and rewards he has already received?
I WILL employ this present paper upon a subject
which of late has very much affected me, which I
have considered with a good deal of application, and
made several inquiries about among those persons
who I thought were best able to inform me; and,
if I deliver my sentiments with some freedom, I
hope it will be forgiven, while I accompany it with
that tenderness which so nice a point requires.
I said in a former paper No. 14) that one spe-
cious objection to the late removals at court was, the
fear of giving uneasiness to a general who has been
THE EXAMINER.
303
long successful abroad; ana accordingly the com-
mon clamour of tongues and pens for some months
past has run against the baseness, the inconstancy,
and ingratitude of the whole kingdom to the duke
of Marlborough, in return of the most eminent ser-
vices that ever were performed by a subject to his
country; not to be equalled in history: and then,
to be sure, some bitter stroke of detraction against
Alexander and Cæsar, who never did us the least
injury. Besides, the people who read Plutarch
come upon us with parallels drawn from the Greeks
and Romans, who ungratefully dealt with I know
not how many of their most deserving generals;
while the profounder politicians have seen pamphlets
where Tacitus and Machiavel have been quoted to
show the danger of too resplendent a merit. If a
stranger should hear these serious outcries of ingra-
titude against our general without knowing the
particulars, he would be apt to inquire where was
his tomb, or whether he was allowed christian
burial? not doubting but we had put him to some
ignominious death. Or has he been tried for his
life, and very narrowly escaped? has he been ac-
cused of high crimes and misdemeanors? has the
prince seized on his estate and left him to starve?
has he been hooted at as he passed the streets by an
ungrateful rabble? have neither honours, offices,
nor grants, been conferred on him or his family?
have not he and they been barbarously stripped of
them all? have not he and his forces been ill paid
abroad? and does not the prince, by a scanty limited
commission, hinder him from pursuing his own me-
thods in the conduct of the war? has he no power
at all of disposing of commissions as he pleases? is
he not severely used by the ministry or parliament,
who yearly call him to a strict account? has the
senate ever thanked him for good success, and have
they not always publicly censured him for the least
miscarriage?-Will the accusers of the nation join
issue upon any of these particulars, or tell us in
what point our damnable sin of ingratitude lies?
Why, it is plain and clear; for while he is com-
manding abroad, the queen dissolves her parliament
and changes her ministry at home; in which uni-
versal calamity, no less than two persons allied by
marriage to the general [Sunderland and Godolphin] |
have lost their places. Whence came this wonder-
ful sympathy between the civil and military powers?
Will the troops in Flanders refuse to fight unless
they can have their own lord-keeper, their own
lord-president of the council, their own parliament?
In a kingdom where the people are free, how came
they to be so fond of having their counsels under the
influence of their army, or those that lead it? who,
in all well-instituted states, had no commerce with
the civil power, further than to receive their orders,
and obey them without reserve.
When a general is not so popular, either in his
army or at home, as one might expect from a long
course of success, it may perhaps be ascribed to his
wisdom, or perhaps to his complexion. The posses-
sion of some one quality, or defect in some other,
will extremely damp the people's favour, as well as
the love of the soldiers. Besides, this is not an age
to produce favourites of the people, while we live
under a queen who engrosses all our love and all
our veneration; and where the only way for a great
general or minister to acquire any degree of subor-
dinate affection from the public must be, by all
marks of the most entire submission and respect to
her sacred person and commands; otherwise, no
pretence of great services, either in the field or the
cabinet, will be able to screen them from universal
hatred.
But the late ministry was closely joined to the
general by friendship, interest, alliance, inclination,
and opinion; which cannot be affirmed of the pre-
sent: and the ingratitude of the nation lies in the
people's joining, as one man, to wish that such a
ministry should be changed. Is it not, at the same
time, notorious to the whole kingdom, that nothing
but a tender regard to the general was able to pre-
serve that ministry so long, until neither God nor
man could suffer their continuance? Yet, in the
highest ferment of things, we heard few or no re-
flections upon this great commander; but all seemed
unanimous in wishing he might still be at the head
of the confederate forces; only at the same time, in
case he were resolved to resign, they chose rather to
turn their thoughts somewhere else than throw up
all in despair. And this I cannot but add, in defence
of the people, with regard to the person we are
speaking of, that in the high station he has been for
many years past, his real defects (as nothing human
is without them) have, in a detracting age, been
very sparingly mentioned either in libels or conver-
sation, and all successes very freely and universally
applauded.
There is an active and a passive ingratitude: ap-
plying both to this occasion, we may say, the first is,
when a prince or people returns good services with
cruelty or ill usage; the other is, when good services
are not at all or very meanly rewarded. We have al-
ready spoken of the former; let us therefore, in the
second place, examine how the services of our
general have been rewarded, and whether, upon
that article, either prince or people have been guilty
of ingratitude.
Those are the most valuable rewards which are
given to us from the certain knowledge of the donor
that they fit our temper best: I shall therefore say
nothing of the title of duke, or the garter, which the
queen bestowed upon the general in the beginning
of her reign; but I shall come to more substantial
instances, and mention nothing which has not been
given in the face of the world. The lands of Wood-
stock may, I believe, be reckoned worth 40,000l.;
on the building of Blenheim castle 200,000l. have
been already expended, although it be not yet near
finished; the grant of 5000l. per annum on the
post-office is richly worth 100,000l.; his principality
in Germany may be computed at 30,000l.; pictures,
jewels, and other gifts from foreign princes, 60,000%.;
the grant at the Pall-mall, the rangership, &c., for
want of more certain knowledge, may be called
10,000%.; his own and his duchess's employments at
five years' value, reckoning only the known and
avowed salaries, are very low rated at 100,0007.
Here is a good deal above half a million of money;
and, I dare say, those who are loudest with the
clamour of ingratitude will readily own that all
this is but a trifle in comparison of what is untold.
The reason of my stating this account is only to
convince the world that we are not quite so un-
grateful either as the Greeks or the Romans; and
in order to adjust the matter with all fairness, I
shall confine myself to the latter, who were much
more generous of the two. A victorious general of
Rome, in the height of that empire, having entirely
subdued his enemies, was rewarded with the larger
triumph, and perhaps a statue in the Forum, a bull
for a sacrifice, an embroidered garment to appear in,
a crown of laurel, a monumental trophy with in-
scriptions; sometimes five hundred or a thousand
copper coins were struck on occasion of the victory,
which, doing honour to the general, we will place to
his account; and lastly, sometimes, although not
very frequently, a triumphal arch. These are all the
304
THE EXAMINER.
rewards that I can call to mind which a victorious
general received after his return from the most glo.
rious expedition; having conquered some great
kingdom; brought the king himself, his family, and
nobles, to adorn the triumph, in chains; and made
the kingdom either a Roman province, or, at best,
a poor depending state, in humble alliance to that
empire. Now, of all these rewards, I find but two
which were of real profit to the general; the laurel
crown, made and sent him at the charge of the pub-
lic, and the embroidered garment; but I cannot find
whether this last was paid for by the senate or the
general: however, we will take the more favourable
opinion; and in all the rest admit the whole ex-
pense, as if it were ready money in the general's
pocket. Now, according to these computations on
both sides, we will draw up two fair accounts; the
one of Roman gratitude, and the other of British
ingratitude, and set them together in balance.
Imprimis
A BILL OF ROMAN GRATITUDE.
For frankincense, and earthen pots to
burn it in
A bull for sacrifice
An embroidered garment
A crown of laurel
A statue
A trophy
A thousand copper medals, value half-
pence a-piece.
A triumphal arch
£. S.
d.
4 10 0
8 0
0
50
0
0
0 0 2
100 0
0
80
0
0
2 1
8
•
500 O 0
A triumphal car, valued as a modern coach 100 0 0
Casual charges at the triumph
150
0
0.
£994 11 10
A BILL OF BRITISH INGRATITUDE.
Imprimis-
Woodstock
Blenheim
Post-office grant
Mildenheim
Pictures, jewels, &c.
Pall-mall grant, &c.
Employments
·
£.
40,000
200,000
100,000
30,000
60,000
10,000
100,000
£ 540,000
This is an account of the visible profits on both
sides; and if the Roman general had any private
perquisites, they may be easily discounted, and by
more probable computations; and differ yet more
upon the balance if we consider that all the gold and
silver for safeguards and contributions, also all valu-
able prizes taken in the war, were openly exposed in
the triumph, and then lodged in the Capitol for the
public service.
So that, upon the whole, we are not yet quite so bad
at worst as the Romans were at best. And I doubt,
those who raise the hideous cry of ingratitude may
be mightily mistaken in the consequence they pro-
pose from such complaints. I remember a saying
of Seneca, Multos ingratos invenimus, plures fa- |
cimus; we find many ungrateful persons in the world,
but we make more by setting too high a rate upon
our pretensions, and undervaluing the rewards we
receive. When unreasonable bills are brought in
they ought to be taxed or cut off in the middle.
Where there have been long accounts between two
persons, I have known one of them perpetually
making large demands, and pressing for payment,
who, when the accounts were cast up on both sides,
was found to be debtor for some hundreds. I am
thinking, if a proclamation were issued out for every
man to send in his bill of merits, and the lowest
price he set them at, what a pretty sum it would
amount to, and how many such islands as this must
be sold to pay them. I form my judgment from the
practice of those who sometimes happen to pay them-
selves, and, I dare affirm, would not be so unjust as
to take a farthing more than they think is due to
their deserts. I will instance only in one article.
A lady [supposed to be queen Anne] of my ac-
quaintance appropriated twenty-six pounds a-year
out of her allowance, for certain uses, which her
woman received, and was to pay to the lady, or her
order, as it was called for. But, after eight years,
it appeared, upon the strictest calculation, that the
woman had paid but four pounds a-year, and sunk
two-and-twenty for her own pocket. It is but sup-
posing, instead of twenty-six pounds, twenty-six
thousand; and by that you may judge what the pre-
tensions of modern merit are, where it happens to
be its own paymaster.
No. 18.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1710.
Quas res luxuries in flagitiis, avaritia in rapinis, superbia in
contumeliis efficere potuisset; eas omnes sese, hoc uno præ-
tore per triennium, pertulisse aiebant.
These things were the effect of his scandalous and unbounded
luxury, his insatiable avarice, his contumelious insolence.
These were the sufferings of that unhappy nation, for three
years, under his oppressive government.
Be-
WHEN I first undertook this paper I was resolved
to concern myself only with things, and not with
persons. Whether I have kept or broken this re-
solution I cannot recollect; and I will not be at the
pains to examine, but leave the matter to those little
antagonists who may want a topic for criticism.
Thus much I have discovered, that it is in writing as
in building, where, after all our schemes and calcu-
lations, we are mightily deceived in our accounts,
and often forced to make use of any materials we
can find that the work may be kept a-going.
sides, to speak my opinion, the things I have occa-
sion to mention are so closely linked to persons, that
nothing but time (the father of oblivion) can separate
them. Let me put a parallel case:-Suppose I should
complain that last week my coach was within an
inch of overturning in a smooth even way, and
drawn by very gentle horses; to be sure, all my
friends would immediately lay the fault upon John
[duke of Marlborough], because they knew he then
presided in my coach-box. Again, suppose I should
discover some uneasiness to find myself, I knew not
how, over head and ears in debt, although I were
sure my tenants paid their rents very well, and that
I never spent half my income; they would certainly
advise me to turn off Mr. Oldfox [lord Godolphin,
lord-treasurer], my receiver, and take another. If,
as a justice of peace, I should tell a friend that my
warrants and mittimuses were never drawn up as I
would have them; that I had the misfortune to send
an honest man to gaol and dismiss a knave; he
would bid me no longer trust Charles and Harry,"
my two clerks, whom he knew to be ignorant, wilful,
assuming, and ill-inclined fellows. If I should add
that my tenants made me very uneasy with their
squabbles and broils among themselves, he would
counsel me to cashier Will Bigamy [William earl
Cowper], the seneschal of my manor. And lastly,
if my neighbour and I happened to have a misunder-
standing about the delivery of a message, what
could I do less than strip and discard the blun-
Earl of Sunderland, and Henry Boyle, esq., secretaries of
state.
THE EXAMINER.
305
dering or malicious rascal who carried it? [Horatio |
Walpole.]
It is the same thing in the conduct of public affairs,
where they have been managed with rashness or
wilfulness, corruption, ignorance, or injustice. Barely
to relate the facts, at least while they are fresh in
memory, will as much reflect upon the persons con-
cerned, as if we had told their names at length.
I have therefore since thought of another expe-
dient, frequently practised with great safety and
success by satirical writers, which is, that of looking
into history for some character bearing a resemblance
to the person we would describe, and with the ab-
solute power of altering, adding, or suppressing what
circumstances we please, I conceive we must have
very bad luck, or very little skill, to fail. However,
some days ago in a coffee-house, looking into one of
the politic weekly papers, I found the writer had
fallen into this scheme, and I happened to light on
that part where he was describing a person who,
from small beginnings, grew (as I remember) to be
constable of France, and had a very haughty imperious
wife. I took the author as a friend to our faction,
for so, with great propriety of speech, they call the
queen and ministry, almost the whole clergy, and
nine parts in ten of the kingdom; and I said to a
gentleman near me, that although I knew well enough
what persons the author meant, yet there were se-
veral particulars in the husband's character which I
could not reconcile; for that of the lady, it was just
and adequate enough. But it seems I mistook the
whole matter, and applied all I had read to a couple
of persons who were not at that time in the writer's
thoughts.
Now, to avoid such a misfortune as this, I have
been for some time consulting Livy and Tacitus, to
find out a character of a princeps senatus, a prætor
urbanus, a quæstor ærarius, a Cæsari ab epistolis, and
a proconsul: but among the worst of them, I cannot
discover one from whom to draw a parallel without
doing injury to a Roman memory, so that I am com-
pelled to have recourse to Tully. But this author
relating facts only as an orator, I thought it would
be best to observe his method, and make an extract
from six harangues of his against Verres, only still
preserving the form of an oration. I remember a
younger brother of mine, who deceased about two
months ago, presented the world with a speech of
Alcibiades against an Athenian brewer. Now I am
told for certain, that in those days there was no ale
in Athens, therefore that speech, or at least a great
part of it, must needs be spurious. The difference
between my brother and me is this; he makes Al-
cibiades say a great deal more than he really did,
and I make Cicero say a great deal less. This
Verres a had been the Roman governor of Sicily for
three years, and, on his return from his government,
the Sicilians entreated Cicero to impeach him in the
senate, which he accordingly did in several orations,
whence I have faithfully translated and abstracted
that which follows:
"MY LORDS,-A pernicious opinion has for some
time prevailed, not only at Rome but among our
neighbouring nations, that a man who has money
enough, although he be ever so guilty, cannot be
condemned in this place. But however industri-
ously this opinion be spread to cast an odium on the
senate, we have brought before your lordships Caius
Verres, a person for his life and actions already con-
demned by all men. But, as he hopes and gives
out by the influence of his wealth to be here absolved
in condemning this man, you have an opportunity
of belying that general scandal, of redeeming the
a Earl of Wharton-viceroy of Ireland.
VOL. I.
of
credit lost by former judgments, and recovering the
love of the Roman people as well as of our neigh-
bours. I have brought here a man before you, my
lords, who is a robber of the public treasure, an
overturner of law and justice, and the disgrace, as
well as destruction of the Sicilian province;
whom, if you shall determine with equity and due
severity, your authority will remain entire, and upon
such an establishment as it ought to be: but if his
great riches will be able to force their way through
that religious reverence and truth, which become so
awful an assembly, I shall, however, obtain this
much, that the defect will be laid where it ought;
and that it shall not be objected that the criminal
was not produced, or that there wanted an orator to
accuse him. This man, my lords, has publicly said,
that those ought to be afraid of accusations who
have only robbed enough for their own support and
maintenance; but that he has plundered sufficient
to bribe numbers; and that nothing is so high or so
holy which money cannot corrupt. Take that sup-
port from him, and he can have no other left; for
what eloquence will be able to defend a man whose
life has been tainted with so many scandalous vices,
and who has been so long condemned by the uni-
versal opinion of the world? To pass over the foul
stains and ignominy of his youth, his corrupt ma-
nagement in all employments he has borne, his
treachery and irreligion, his injustice and oppres-
sion: he has left of late such monuments of his vil-
lanies in Sicily, made such havoc and confusion
there during his government, that the province can-
not by any means be restored to its former state,
and hardly recover itself at all, under many years,
and by a long succession of good governors. While
this man governed in that island, the Sicilians had
neither the benefit of our laws, nor their own, nor
even of common right. In Sicily, no man now pos-
sesses more than what the governor's lust and ava-
rice have overlooked, or what he was forced to neg-
lect, out of mere weariness and satiety of oppression.
Everything, where he presided, was determined by
his arbitrary will; and the best subjects he treated
as enemies. To recount his abominable debauche-
ries would offend any modest ear, since so many
could not preserve their daughters and wives from
his lust. I believe there is no man, who ever heard
his name, that cannot relate his enormities.
bring before you in judgment, my lords, a public
robber, an adulterer, a DEFILER OF ALTARS,ª an
enemy of religion, and of all that is sacred. In Si-
cily he sold all employments of judicature, magis-
tracy, and trust, places in the council, and the
priesthood itself, to the highest bidder; and has
plundered that island of forty millions of sesterces.
And here I cannot but observe to your lordships, in
what manner Verres passed the day; the morning
was spent in taking bribes and selling employments
-the rest of it in drunkenness and lust. His dis-
course at table was scandalously unbecoming the
dignity of his station; noise, brutality, and obscene-
ness.
We
One particular I cannot omit; that in the
high character of governor of Sicily (Ireland), upon
a solemn day, a day set apart for public prayer for
the safety of the commonwealth, he stole at evening
in a chair to a married woman of infamous character,
against all decency and prudence, as well as against
all laws, both human and divine. Didst thou think,
O Verres! the government of Sicily was given thee
with so large a commission, only, by the power of
that, to break all the bars of law, modesty, and duty;
to suppose all men's fortunes thine, and leave no
house free from thy rapine and lust?" &c.
A true story of lord. Wharton.
X
306
THE EXAMINER.
This extract, to deal ingenuously, has cost me
more pains than I think it is worth, having only
served to convince me, that modern corruptions are
not to be paralleled by ancient examples, without
having recourse to poetry or fable. For instance,
I never read in story of a law enacted to take away
the force of all laws whatsoever; by which a man
may safely commit upon the last of June, what he
would infallibly be hanged for, if he committed it on
the first of July; by which the greatest criminals
may escape, provided they continue long enough in
power to antiquate their crimes, and by stifling them
a while, can deceive the legislature into an amnesty,
of which the enactors do not at that time foresee the
consequence. A cautious merchant will be apt to
suspect, when he finds a man who has the repute of
a cunning dealer, and with whom he has old ac-
counts, urging for a general release. When I reflect
on this proceeding, I am not surprised that those
who contrived a parliamentary sponge for their
crimes are now afraid of a new revolution sponge
for their money and if it were possible to contrive
a sponge that could only affect those who had need
of the other, perhaps it would not be ill employed
No. 19.
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1710.
Quippe ubi fas versum atque nefas; tot bella per orbem ;
Tam multæ scelerum facies
Where sacred order, fraud and force confound;
Where impious wars and tumults rage around.
I AM often violently tempted to let the world freely
know who the author of this paper is; to tell them
my name and titles at length; which would prevent
abundance of inconsistent criticisms I daily hear
upon it.
Those who are enemies to the notions and
opinions I would advance are sometimes apt to
quarrel with the Examiner, as defective in point
of wit, and sometimes of truth. At other times they
are so generous and candid to allow it is written by
a club, and that very great hands have fingers in it.
As for those who only appear its adversaries in print,
they give me but very little pain. The paper I hold
lies at my mercy, and I can govern it as I please;
therefore, when I begin to find the wit too bright,
the learning too deep, and the satire too keen for
me to deal with (a very frequent case, no doubt,
where a man is constantly attacked by such shrewd
adversaries), I peaceably fold it up, or fling it aside,
and read no more. It would be happy for me to
have the same power over people's tongues, and not
be forced to hear my own work railed and com-
mended fifty times a day; affecting all the while a
countenance wholly unconcerned, and joining, out
of policy or good manners, with the judgment of
both parties: this, I confess, is too great a hardship
for so bashful and unexperienced a writer.
But, alas! I lie under another discouragement of
much more weight. I was very unfortunate in the
choice of my party, when I set up to be a writer.
Where is the merit, or what opportunity to discover
our wit, our courage, or our learning, in drawing
our pens for the defence of a cause which the queen
and both houses of parliament, and nine parts in ten
of the kingdom, have so unanimously embraced? I
am cruelly afraid we politic authors must begin to
lessen our expenses, and lie for the future at the
mercy of our printers. All hopes are now gone of
writing ourselves into places or pensions. A certain
starveling author, who worked under the late admi-
nistration, told me with a heavy heart about a month
ago that he, and some others of his brethren, had
secretly offered their service, dog-cheap, to the pre-
sent ministry, but were all refused; and are now
maintained by contribution like Jacobites or fanatics.
I have been of late employed, out of perfect commi-
seration, in doing them good offices: for, whereas
some were of opinion that these hungry zealots
should not be suffered any longer, in their malapert
way, to snarl at the present course of public pro-
ceedings; and whereas others proposed that they
should be limited to a certain number, and permitted
to write for their masters in the same manner as coun-
sel are assigned for other criminals, that is, to say all
they can in defence of their client, but not reflect
upon the court; I humbly gave my advice, that they
should be suffered to write on as they used to do,
which I did purely out of regard to their persons,
for I hoped it would keep them out of harm's way,
and prevent them from falling into evil courses;
which, though of little consequence to the public,
would certainly be fatal to themselves. If I have
room at the bottom of this paper, I will transcribe a
petition to the present ministry, sent me by one of
these authors, in behalf of himself and fourscore
others of his brethren.
For my own part, notwithstanding the little en-
couragement to be hoped for at this time from the
men in power, I shall continue my paper, till either
the world or myself grow weary of it: the latter is
easily determined; and, for the former, I shall not
leave it to the partiality of either party, but to the
infallible judgment of my printer. One principal
end I designed by it was to undeceive those well-
meaning people who have been drawn unawares into
a wrong sense of things, either by the common pre-
judices of education and company, the great per-
sonal qualities of some party leaders, or the foul
misrepresentations that were constantly made of all
who durst differ from them in the smallest article.
I have known such men struck with the thoughts of
some late changes, which as they pretend to think,
were made, without any reason visible to the world.
In answer to this, it is not sufficient to allege, what
nobody doubts, that a good and wise prince may be
allowed to change his ministers, without giving a
reason to his subjects; because it is probable, that
he will not make such a change without very im-
portant reasons; and a good subject ought to sup-
pose, that, in such a case, there are such reasons,
although he be not apprised of them; otherwise he
must inwardly tax his prince of capriciousness, in-
constancy, or ill design. Such reasons, indeed, may
not be obvious to persons prejudiced, or at a great
distance, or short thinkers; and, therefore, if there
be no secrets of state nor any ill consequences to be
apprehended from their publication, it is no uncom-
mendable work in any private hand, to lay them
open for the satisfaction of all men. And if what
I have already said, or shall hereafter say, of this
kind, be thought to reflect upon persons, although
none have been named, I know not how it can pos-
sibly be avoided. The queen in her speech men-
tions, with great concern, that "the navy and other
offices are burdened with heavy debts; and desires
that the like may be prevented for the time to come."
And if it be now possible to prevent the continu-
ance of an evil that has been so long growing upon
us, and is arrived to such a height, surely those cor-
ruptions and mismanagements must have been great
which first introduced them, before our taxes were
eaten up by annuities.
If I were able to rip up and discover, in all their
colours, only about eight or nine thousand of the
most scandalous abuses that have been committed
in all parts of public management for twenty years
past, by a certain set of men and their instruments,
THE EXAMINER.
307
I should reckon it some service to my country and
posterity. But, to say the truth, I should be glad
the authors' names were conveyed to future times,
along with their actions. For although the present age
may understand well enough the little hints we
give, the parallels we draw, and the characters we
describe, yet all this will be lost to the next. How-
ever, if these papers, reduced into a more durable
form, should happen to live till our grandchildren be
men, I hope they may have curiosity enough to con-
sult annals, and compare dates, in order to find out
what names were then intrusted with the conduct
of affairs, in the consequences whereof themselves
will so deeply share; like a heavy debt in a private
family, which often lies an incumbrance upon an
estate for three generations.
But, leaving the care of informing posterity to
better pens, I shall, with due regard to truth, dis-
cretion, and the safety of my person from the men
of the new-fangled moderation, continue to take all
proper opportunities of letting the misled part of
the people see how grossly they have been abused,
and in what particulars. I shall also endeavour to
convince them that the present course we are in is
the most probable means, with the blessing of God,
to extricate ourselves out of all our difficulties.
Among those who are pleased to write or talk
against this paper, I have observed a strange manner
of reasoning, which I should be glad to hear them
explain themselves upon. They make no ceremony
of exclaiming upon all occasions against a change of
ministry, in so critical and dangerous a conjuncture.
What shall we, who heartily approve and join in
those proceedings, say in defence of them? We own
the juncture of affairs to be as they describe: we
are pushed for an answer; and are forced at last
freely to confess that the corruptions and abuses in
every
branch of the administration were so numerous
and intolerable, that all things must have ended in
ruin without some speedy reformation. This I
have already asserted in a former paper; and the
replies I have read or heard have been in plain
terms to affirm the direct contrary: and not only to
defend and celebrate the late persons and proceed-
ings, but to threaten me with law and vengeance for
casting reflections on so many great and honourable
men, whose birth, virtue, and abilities, whose morals
and religion, whose love of their country, and its
constitution in church and state, were so universally
allowed; and all this set off with odious compari-
sons, reflecting on the present choice; is not this,
in plain and direct terms, to tell all the world that
the queen has, in a most dangerous crisis, turned out
a whole set of the best ministers that ever served a
prince, without any manner of reason but her royal
pleasure, and brought in others, of a character di-
rectly contrary? And how so vile an opinion as
this can consist with the least pretence to loyalty or
good manners, let the world determine.
I confess myself so little a refiner in politics
as not to be able to discover what other motive,
besides obedience to the queen, a sense of public
danger, and a true love of their country, joined with
invincible courage, could spirit up those great men,
who have now, under her majesty's authority, un-
dertaken the direction of affairs. What can they
expect but the utmost efforts of malice, from a set
of enraged domestic adversaries, perpetually watch-
ing over their conduct, crossing all their designs,
and using every art to foment divisions among them,
in order to join with the weakest, upon any rupture?
The difficulties they must encounter are nine times
more and greater than ever; and the prospects of the
interest, after the reapings and gleanings of so many
years, nine times less. Every misfortune at home
or abroad, although the necessary consequence of
former counsels, will be imputed to them; and all
the good success given to the merit of former schemes.
A sharper has held your cards all the evening, play-
ed booty, and lost your money; and when things
are almost desperate you employ an honest gentle-
man to retrieve your losses.
I would ask, whether the queen's speech does not
contain her intentions, in every particular relating
to the public, that a good subject, a Briton, and a
Protestant, can possibly have at heart?
"To carry
on the war in all its parts, particularly in Spain,
with the utmost vigour, in order to procure a safe
and honourable peace for us and our allies; to find
some ways of paying the debts of the navy; to sup-
port and encourage the church of England; to pre-
serve the British constitution according to the
Union; to maintain the indulgence by law allowed
to scrupulous consciences; and to employ none but
such as are for the protestant succession in the house
of Hanover." It is known enough, that speeches
on these occasions are ever digested by the advice
of those who are in the chief confidence; and, con-
sequently, that these are the sentiments of her ma-
jesty's ministers, as well as her own; and we see
the two houses have unanimously agreed with her
in every article. When the least counterpaces
[counterpoises] are made to any of these resolutions,
it will then be time enough for our male-contents to
bawl out popery, persecution, arbitrary power, and
the pretender. In the mean while, it is a little hard
to think that this island can hold but six men, of ho-
nesty and ability enough to serve their prince and
country or that our safety should depend upon their
credit any more than it would upon the breath in
their nostrils. Why should not a revolution in the
ministry be sometimes necessary, as well as a revolu-
tion in the crown? It is to be presumed the former
is at least as lawful in itself, and perhaps the experi-
ment not quite so dangerous. The revolution of
the sun about the earth was formerly thought a ne-
cessary expedient to solve appearances, although it
left many difficulties unanswered; until philoso-
phers contrived a better, which is that of the earth's
revolution about the sun. This is found, upon ex-
perience, to save much time and labour, to correct
many irregular motions, and is better suited to the
respect due from a planet to a fixed star.
No. 20.
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1710.
Sunt quibus in satira videar nimis acer, et ultra
Legem tendere opus: sine nervis altera quicquid
Composui pars esse putat
There are to whom too poignant I appear,.
Beyond the laws of satire too severe.
My lines are weak, unsinewed, others say,
A man may spin a thousand such a-day.
WHEN the printer came last week for his copy, he
brought along with him a bundle of those papers,
which, in the phrase of Whig coffeehouses, have
swinged off the Examiner, most of which I had
never seen or heard of before. I remember some
time ago, in one of the Tatlers, to have read a letter
wherein several reasons are assigned for the present
corruption and degeneracy of our taste; but I think
the writer has omitted the principal one, which I
take to be the prejudice of parties. Neither can I
excuse either side of this infirmity: I have heard the
arrantest drivellers, pro and con, commended for
their shrewdness, even by men of tolerable judg
ment; and the best performances exploded as non-
sense and stupidity. This, indeed, may partly be
x 2
308
THE EXAMINER.
imputed to policy and prudence; but it is chiefly
owing to that blindness which prejudice and passion
cast over the understanding. I mention this because
I think it properly within my province in quality of
Examiner.
And having granted more than is usual
for an enemy to do, I must now take leave to say,
that so weak a cause, and so ruined a faction, were
never provided with pens more resembling their
condition or less suited to their occasions.
Non tali auxilio, nec defensoribus istis,
Tempus eget
This is the more to be wondered at, when we con-
sider they have the full liberty of the press; that
they have no other way left to recover themselves;
and that they want not men of excellent parts to set
their arguments in the best light they will bear.
Now, if two men would argue on both sides with
fairness, good sense, and good manners, it would be
no ill entertainment to the town, and perhaps be
the most effectual means to reconcile us. But I am
apt to think, that men of great genius are hardly
brought to prostitute their pens in a very odious
cause; which, besides, is more properly undertaken
by noise and impudence, by gross railing and scur-
rility, by calumny and lying, and by little trifling
cavils and carpings in the wrong place, which those
whifflers use for arguments and answers.
I was well enough pleased with the story of one
of these answerers, who, in a paper last week, found
many faults with a late calculation of mine. Being,
it seems, more deeply learned than his fellows, he
was resolved to begin his answer with a Latin verse,
as well as other folks. His business was to look out
for something against the Examiner, that would pre-
tend to tax accounts; and, turning over Virgil, he
had the luck to find these words,
fugiant examina taxos;
so down they went, and out they would have come,
if one of his unlucky prompters had not hindered it.
I here declare, once for all, that if these people
will not be quiet, I shall take the bread out of their
mouths, and answer the Examiner myself, which I
protest I have never yet done, although I have been
often charged with it; neither have those answers
been written or published with my privity, as mali-
cious people are pleased to give out; nor do I be-
lieve the common Whiggish report, that the authors
are hired by the ministry, to give my paper a value.
But the friends of this paper have given me more
uneasiness with their impatience than its enemies
by their answers. I heard myself censured last week,
by some of the former, for promising to discover the
corruptions of the late administration, but never
performing anything. The latter, on the other side,
The latter, on the other side,
are thundering out their anathemas against me, for
discovering so many. I am at a loss how to decide
between these contraries, and shall therefore pro-
ceed after my own way, as I have hitherto done;
my design being of more importance than that of
writing only to gratify the spleen of one side, or
provoke that of the other, although it may occasion-
ally have both effects.
I shall therefore go on to relate some facts, that,
in my humble opinion, were no hindrance to the
change of the ministry.
The first I shall mention was that of introducing
certain new phrases into the court style, which had
been very seldom, or never, made use of in former
times. They usually ran in the following terms:
"Madam, I cannot serve you while such a one is in
employment. I desire, humbly, to resign my com-
mission, if Mr. continues secretary of state.
I cannot answer that the city will lend money, un-
be president of the council. I
less my 1-d
must beg leave to surrender, except has his
staff. I must not accept the seals, unless
comes into the other office." This has been the
language of late years from subjects to their prince.
Thus they stood upon terms, and must have their
conditions to ruin the nation. Nay, this dutiful
manner of capitulating had spread so far, that every
understrapper began at length to perk up and as-
sume; he expected a regiment; or his son must be
a major; or his brother a collector; else he threat-
ened to vote according to his conscience.
Another of their glorious attempts was the clause
intended in the bill for the encouragement of learn-
ing, by taking off the obligation upon fellows of col-
leges, in both universities, to enter upon holy orders:
the design of which, as I have heard the undertakers
often confess, was to remove the care of educating
youths out of the hands of the clergy, who are apt
to infuse into their pupils too great a regard for the
church and the monarchy. But there was a farther
secret in this clause, which may best be discovered
by the first projectors, or at least the garblers of it;
and these are known to be Collins and Tindall,
in conjunction with a most pious lawyer, their
disciple.
What shall we say to their prodigious skill in
arithmetic, discovered so constantly in their decision
of elections; where they were able to make out by
the rule of false that three were more than three-
and-twenty, and fifteen than fifty? Nay, it was a
maxim, which I never heard any of them dispute,
that in determining elections they were not to consider
where the right lay, but which of the candidates was
likelier to be true to the cause. This they used to
illustrate by a very apt and decent similitude, of
gaming with a sharper ;-if you cannot cheat as well
as he, you are certainly undone.
Another cast of their politics was, that of endea-
vouring to impeach an innocent lady [Mrs. after-
wards lady Masham], for no reason imaginable but
her faithful and diligent service to the queen, and
the favour her majesty bore to her upon that ac-
count, when others had acted contrary in so shame-
ful a manner. What else was the crime? Had she
treated her royal mistress with insolence or neglect?
Had she enriched herself by a long practice of
bribery, and obtained exorbitant grants? Had she
engrossed her majesty's favours, without admitting
any access but through her means? Had she heaped
employments upon herself, her family, and depend-
ants? Had she an imperious haughty behaviour?
Or, after all, was it a perfect blunder, and mistake
of one person for another? I have heard of a man,
who lay all night on a rough pavement, and in the
morning, wondering what it could possibly be that
made him rest so ill, happening to see a feather
under him, imputed the uneasiness of his lodging
to that. I remember likewise the story of a giant
in Rabelais, who used to feed upon windmills; but
was unfortunately choked with a small lump of fresh
butter, before a warm oven.
And here I cannot but observe how very refined
some people are in their generosity and gratitude.
There is a certain great person [lord Nottingham] (I
shall not say of what sex), who for many years past
was the constant mark and butt against which our
present malecontents used to discharge their resent-
ment; upon whom they bestowed all the terms of
scurrility, that malice, envy, and indignation, could
invent; whom they publicly accused of every vice
that can possess a human heart; pride, covetous-
ness, ingratitude, oppression, treachery, dissimula-
tion, violence, and fury, all in the highest extremes:
but of late they have changed their language on a
THE EXAMINER.
309
sudden; that person is now the most faithful and
just that ever served a prince; that person, origin-
ally differing from them in principles as far as east
from west, but united in practice, and falling toge-
ther, they are now reconciled, and find twenty re-
semblances between each other, which they could
never discover before. Tanti est, ut placcam tibi
perire!
But to return:-how could it be longer suffered
in a free nation, that all avenues to preferment
should be shut up, except a very few; when one or
two stood constant sentry, who docked all favours
they handed down, or spread a huge invisible net
between the prince and subject, and through which
nothing of value could pass? And here I cannot
but admire at one consequence from this manage-
ment, which is of an extraordinary nature.
Gene-
rally speaking, princes, who have ill ministers, are
apt to suffer in their reputation, as well as in the
love of the people; but it was not so with the queen.
When the sun is overcast by those clouds he exhales
from the earth, we still acknowledge his light and
influence, and at last find he can dispel and drive
them down to the horizon. The wisest prince, by
the necessity of affairs, the misrepresentations of de-
signing men, or the innocent mistakes even of a
good predecessor, may find himself encompassed by
a crew of courtiers, whom time, opportunity, and
success, have miserably corrupted; and if he can
save himself and his people from ruin, under the
worst administration, what may not his subjects
hope for, when, with their universal applause, he
changes hands, and makes use of the best?
Another great objection with me against the late
party was the cruel tyranny they put upon con-
science, by a barbarous inquisition, refusing to admit
the least toleration or indulgence. They imposed a
hundred tests, but could never be prevailed on to
dispense with or take off the smallest, or even to
admit of occasional conformity, but went on daily
(as their apostle Tindall expresses it) narrowing their
terms of communion, pronouncing nine parts in ten
of the kingdom heretics, and shutting them out of
the pale of their church. These very men, who talk
so much of a comprehension in religion among us,
how came they to allow so little of it in politics,
which is their sole religion? You shall hear them
pretending to bewail the animosities kept up be-
tween the church of England and dissenters, where
the differences in opinion are so few and incon-
siderable; yet these very sons of moderation were
pleased to excommunicate every man who disagreed
with them in the smallest article of their political
creed, or who refused to receive any new article,
how difficult soever to digest, which the leaders im-
posed at pleasure to serve their own interest.
I will quit this subject for the present, when I
have told one story: "There was a great king in
Scythia, whose dominions were bounded on the north
by the poor mountainous territories of a petty lord,
who paid homage as the king's vassal. The Scythian
prime minister, being largely bribed, indirectly ob-
tained his master's consent to suffer this lord to build
forts, and provide himself with arms, under pre-
tence of preventing the inroads of the Tartars. This
little depending sovereign, finding he was now in a
condition to be troublesome, began to insist upon
terms, and threatened upon every occasion to unite
with the Tartars; upon which the prime minister,
who began to be in pain about his head, proposed a
match betwixt his master and the only daughter of
this tributary lord, which he had the good luck to
bring to pass; and from that time valued himself as
author of a most glorious union, which indeed was
grown of absolute necessity by his corruption."
This passage, cited literally from an old history of
Sarmatia, I thought fit to set down, on purpose to
perplex little smattering remarkers, and put them
upon the hunt for an application.
No. 21
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1710.
pugnacem scirent sapiente minorem.
Arms to the gown the victory must yield.
I AM very much at a loss how to proceed upon the
subject intended in this paper, which a new incident
has led me to engage in. The subject I mean is
that of soldiers and the army; but being a matter
wholly out of my trade, I shall handle it in as cau-
tious a manner as I am able.
It is certain that the art of war has suffered great
changes almost in every age and country of the
world; however, there are some maxims relating to
it that will be eternal truths, and which every rea-
sonable man must allow.
In the early times of Greece and Rome the armies
of those states were composed of their citizens, who
took no pay, because the quarrel was their own;
and therefore the war was usually decided in one
campaign; or if it lasted longer, yet in winter the
soldiers returned to their several callings, and were
not distinguished from the rest of the people. The
Gothic governments in Europe, although they were
of military institution, yet observed almost the same
method. I shall instance only here in England:
those who held lands in capite of the king were
obliged to attend him in his wars with a certain
number of men, who all held lands from them at
easy rents on that condition. These fought without
pay; and when the service was over, returned again
to their farms. It is recorded of William Rufus,
that being absent in Normandy, and engaged in a
war with his brother, he ordered twenty thousand
men to be raised, and sent over hence to supply his
army, but having struck up a peace before they were
embarked, he gave them leave to disband, upon con-
dition they would pay him ten shillings a man, which
amounted to a mighty sum in those days.
Consider a kingdom as a great family, whereof the
prince is the father, and it will appear plainly, that
mercenary troops are only servants armed, either to
awe the children at home, or else to defend from
invaders the family who are otherwise employed,
and choose to contribute out of their stock for paying
their defenders, rather than leave their affairs to be
neglected in their absence. The art of making
soldiery a trade, and keeping armies in pay, seems
in Europe to have had two originals; the first was
usurpation, when popular men destroyed the liberties
of their country and seized the power into their own
hands, which they were forced to maintain by hiring
guards to bridle the people. Such were anciently
the tyrants in most of the small states of Greece;
and such were those in several parts of Italy about
three or four centuries ago, as Machiavel informs
us.
The other original of mercenary armies seems
to have risen from larger kingdoms or common-
wealths, which had subdued provinces at a distance,
and were forced to maintain troops upon them, to
prevent insurrections from the natives.
Of this sort
were Macedon, Carthage, and Rome of old; Venice
and Holland at this day, as well as most kingdoms
in Europe. So that mercenary forces in a free state,
whether monarchy or commonwealth, seem only ne-
cessary, either for preserving their conquests (which
in such governments it is not prudent to extend too
far), or else for maintaining war at a distance.
310
THE EXAMINER.
In this last, which at present is our most important,
case, there are certain maxims that all wise govern-
ments have observed.
The first I shall mention is, that no private man
should have a commission to be general for life, let
his merit and services be ever so great; or if a prince
be unadvisedly brought to offer such a commission
in one hand, let him (to save time and blood) de-
liver up his crown with the other. The Romans,
in the height and perfection of their government,
usually sent out one of the new consuls to be general
against their most formidable enemy, and recalled
the old one, who often returned before the next
election, and, according as he had merit, was sent to
command in some other part, which perhaps was
continued to him for a second, and sometimes a third
year. But if Paulus Æmilius, or Scipio himself,
had presumed to move the senate to continue their
commission for life, they would certainly have fallen
a sacrifice to the jealousy of the people. Cæsar,
indeed (between whom and a certain general, some
of late, with much discretion, have made a parallel) |
had his command in Gaul continued to him for five
years, and was afterwards made perpetual Dictator,
that is to say, general for life, which gave him the
power and the will of utterly destroying the Roman
liberty. But in his time the Romans were very
much degenerated, and great corruptions had crept
into their morals and discipline. However, we see
there still were some remains of a noble spirit among
them; for when Cæsar sent to be chosen consul,
notwithstanding his absence, they decreed he should
come in person, give up his command, and petere
more majorum.
It is not impossible, but a general may desire such
a commission out of inadvertency, at the instigation
of his friends, or perhaps of his enemies, or merely
for the benefit and honour of it, without intending
any such dreadful consequences; and in that case, a
wise prince, or state, may barely refuse it, without
showing any marks of their displeasure. But the
request, in its own nature, is highly criminal, and
ought to be entered so upon record, to terrify others
in time to come from venturing to make it.
Another maxim to be observed by a free state en-
gaged in war is, to keep the military power in abso-
lute subjection to the civil, nor ever suffer the former
to influence or interfere with the latter. A general
and his army are servants hired by the civil power to
act, as they are directed thence, and with a commis-
sion large or limited as the administration shall think
fit; for which they are largely paid in profit and
honour. The whole system by which armies are
governed is quite alien from the peaceful institutions
of states at home; and if the rewards be so inviting
as to tempt a senator to take a post in the army,
while he is there on his duty, he ought to consider
himself in no other capacity. I know not any sort
of men so apt as soldiers are to reprimand those who
presume to interfere in what relates to their trade.
When they hear any of us in a coffeehouse wonder-
ing that such a victory was not pursued; complaining
that such a town cost more men and money than it
was worth to take it; or, that such an opportunity
was lost in fighting the enemy; they presently re-
prove us, and often with justice enough, for meddling
with matters out of our sphere; and clearly convince
us of our mistakes, by terms of art that none of us
understand. Nor do we escape so; for they reflect
with the utmost contempt on our ignorance, that we,
who sit at home in ease and security, never stirring
from our firesides, should pretend from books and
general reason to argue upon military affairs; which,
after all, if we may judge from the share of intellec-
|
|
tuals in some, who are said to excel that way, is not
so very profound or difficult a science. But, if
there be any weight in what they offer, as perhaps
there may be a great deal, surely these gentlemen
have a much weaker pretence to concern themselves
in matters of the cabinet, which are always either
far above, or much beside their capacities. Soldiers
may as well pretend to prescribe rules for trade, to
determine points in philosophy, to be moderators in
an assembly of divines or direct in a court of justice, as
to misplace their talent in examining affairs of state;
especially in what relates to the choice of ministers,
who are never so likely to be ill chosen as when ap-
proved by them. It would be endless to show how
pernicious all steps of this nature have been in many
parts and ages of the world.
parts and ages of the world. I shall only produce
two at present; one in Rome, the other in England.
The first is of Cæsar: when he came to the city with
his soldiers to settle the ministry, there was an end
of their liberty for ever. The second was, in the
great rebellion against king Charles the First: the
king and both houses were agreed upon the terms of
a peace; but the officers of the army (as Ludlow
relâtes it) set a guard upon the house of commons,
took a list of the members, and kept all by force out of
the house, except those who were for bringing the
king to a trial. Some years after, when they erected
a military government, and ruled the island by major-
generals, we received most admirable instances of
their skill in politics.
their skill in politics. To say the truth, such formi-
dable sticklers can have but two reasons for desiring
to interfere in the administration; the first is, that
of Cæsar and Cromwell, of which God forbid I
should accuse or suspect anybody, since the second
is pernicious enough, and that is, to preserve those
in power, who are for perpetuating a war, rather
than see others advanced, who, they are sure, will
use all proper means to promote a safe and honour-
able peace.
Thirdly, since it is observed of armies, that, in the
present age, they are brought to some degree of
humanity, and more regular demeanour to each other
and to the world than in former times, it is cer-
tainly a good maxim to endeavour to preserve this
temper among them; without which they would
soon degenerate into savages. To this end, it would
be prudent, among other things, to forbid that de-
testable custom of drinking to the damnation or
confusion of any person whatsoever.
Such desperate acts, and the opinions infused
along with them into heads already inflamed by
youth and wine, are enough to scatter madness and
sedition through a whole camp.
So seldom upon
their knees to pray, and so often to curse! this is not
properly atheism, but a sort of anti-religion prescribed
by the devil, and which an atheist of common sense
would scorn as an absurdity. I have heard it men-
tioned as a common practice last autumn, somewhere
or other, to drink damnation and confusion (and
this with circumstances very aggravating and horrid)
to the new ministry, and to those who had any hand
in turning out the old; that is to say, to those per-
sons whom her majesty has thought fit to employ in
her greatest affairs, with something more than a
glance against the queen herself. And if it be true
that these orgies were attended with certain doubtful
words of standing by their general, who, without
question, abhorred them, let any man consider the
consequence of such dispositions, if they should
happen to spread.
happen to spread. I could only wish, for the honour
of the army, as well as of the queen and ministry,
that a remedy had been applied to the disease, in
If men of such
the place and time where it grew.
principles were able to propagate them in a camp,
THE EXAMINER.
311
and were sure of a general for life, who had any
tincture of ambition, we might soon bid farewell to
ministers and parliaments, whether new or old.
I am only sorry such an accident has happened
toward the close of a war, when it is chiefly the in-
terest of those gentlemen, who have posts in the army,
to behave themselves in such a manner as might en-
courage the legislature to make some provision for
them, when there will be no farther need of their
services. They are to consider themselves as persons,
by their education, unqualified for many other stations
of life. Their fortunes will not suffer them to re-
tain to a party after its fall, nor have they weight or
abilities to help toward its resurrection. Their
future dependence is wholly upon the prince and
parliament, to which they will never make their way
by solemn execrations of the ministry; a ministry
of the queen's own election, and fully answering the
wishes of her people. This unhappy step in some
of their brethren may pass for an uncontrollable
argument, that politics are not their business or their
element. The fortune of war has raised several
persons up to swelling titles, and great commands
over numbers of men, which they are too apt to
transfer along with them into civil life, and appear
in all companies, as if they were at the head of their
regiments, with a sort of deportment that ought to
have been dropt behind in that short passage to Har-
wich. It puts me in mind of a dialogue in Lucian,
where Charon, wafting one of their predecessors
over Styx, ordered him to strip off his armour and
fine clothes, yet still thought him too heavy: "But,"
said he, "put off likewise that pride and presump-
tion, those high-swelling words, and that vain glory;"
because they were of no use on the other side of the
water. Thus, if all that array of military grandeur
were confined to the proper scene, it would be inuch
more for the interest of the owners, and less offen-
sive to their fellow-subjects.
No. 22.
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1710.
Nam et majorum instituta tueri, sacris ceremoniisque retinen
dis, sapientis est.
-Ruituraque semper
Stat (mirum !) moles—
A wise man will protect and defend the rights of the church;
which, in spite of the malice of its enemies, although totter
ing, and on the brink of destruction, stands secure, to the
admiration of all men.
WHOEVER is a true lover of our constitution must
needs be pleased to see what successful endeavours
are daily made to restore it, in every branch, to its
ancient form, from the languishing condition it has
long lain in, and with such deadly symptoms.
I have already handled some abuses during the
late management, and shall, in convenient time, go
on with the rest. Hitherto I have confined myself
to those of the state; but, with the good leave of
some who think it a matter of small moment, I shall
now take liberty to say something of the church.
For several years past there has not, I think, in
Europe, been any society of men upon so unhappy
a foot as the clergy of England, nor more hardly
treated by those very persons from whom they de- |
served much better quarter, and in whose power
they chiefly had put it to use them so ill. I would
not willingly misrepresent facts; but I think it gene-
rally allowed by enemies and friends, that the bold
and brave defences made before the Revolution
against those many invasions of our rights, proceed-
ed principally from the clergy, who are likewise
known to have rejected all advances made them, to
close with the measures at that time concerting;
while the dissenters, to gratify their ambition and
revenge, fell into the basest compliances with the
court, approved of all proceedings by their numerous
and fulsome addresses, and took employments and
commissions, by virtue of the dispensing power,
against the direct laws of the land. All this is so
true, that if ever the pretender comes in, they will,
next to those of his own religion, have the fairest
claim and pretensions to his favour, from their merit
and eminent services to his supposed father; who,
without such encouragement, would probably never
have been misled to go the lengths he did. It
should likewise be remembered, to the everlasting
honour of the London divines, that, in those dan-
gerous times, they writ and published the best col-
lection of arguments against popery that ever ap-
peared in the world.
peared in the world. At the Revolution, the body
of the clergy joined heartily in the common cause,
except a few, whose sufferings, perhaps, have atoned
for their mistakes, like men who are content to go
about for avoiding a gulf or a precipice, but come
into the old straight road again as soon as they can.
But another temper had now began to prevail; for,
as in the reign of king Charles the First, several
well-meaning people were ready to join in reforming
some abuses, while others, who had deeper designs,
were still calling out for a thorough reformation,
which ended at last in the ruin of the kingdom; so,
after the late king's coming to the throne, there was
a restless cry from men of the same principles for a
thorough revolution, which, as some were carrying
it on, must have ended in the destruction of the
monarchy and church.
What a violent humour has run ever since against
the clergy, and from what corner spread and foment-
ed, is, I believe, manifest to all men. It looked
like a set quarrel against christianity; and if we
call to mind several of the leaders, it must, in a great
measure, have been actually so. Nothing was more
common, in writing and conversation, than to hear
that reverend body charged in gross with what was
utterly inconsistent, despised for their poverty, hated
for their riches; reproached with avarice and taxed
with luxury; accused for promoting arbitrary power,
and for resisting the prerogative; censured for their
pride, and scorned for their meanness of spirit. The
representatives of the lower clergy were railed at for
disputing the power of the bishops, by the known
abhorrers of episcopacy, and abused for doing no-
thing in the convocations, by those very men who
helped to bind up their hands. The vice, the folly,
the ignorance of every single man, were laid upon
the character; their jurisdiction, censures, and dis-
cipline, trampled under foot; yet mighty complaints
against their excessive power; the men of wit em-
ployed to turn the priesthood itself into ridicule ;
in short, groaning everywhere under the weight of
poverty, oppression, contempt, and obloquy.
fair return for the time and money spent in their
A
education to fit them for the service of the altar,
and a fair encouragement for worthy men to come
into the church! However, it may be some comfort
to the persons of that holy function, that their divine
Founder, as well as his harbinger, met with the like
reception :-" John came neither eating nor drink-
ing, and they say he hath a devil; the Son of Man
came eating and drinking, and they say, behold a
glutton and a wine-bibber," &c.
In this deplorable state of the clergy nothing but
the hand of Providence, working by its glorious in-
strument the queen, could have been able to turn
the people's hearts so surprisingly in their favour.
This princess, destined for the safety of Europe,
and a blessing to her subjects, began her reign with
312
THE EXAMINER.
a noble benefaction to the church; and it was hoped
the nation would have followed such an example,
which nothing could have prevented but the false
politics of a set of men who form their maxims upon
those of every tottering commonwealth, which is
always struggling for life, subsisting by expedients,
and often at the mercy of any powerful neighbour.
These men take it into their imagination that trade
can never flourish unless the country becomes a
common receptacle for all nations, religions, and
languages; a system only proper for small popular
states, but altogether unworthy and below the dignity
of an imperial crown; which, with us, is best upheld
by a monarchy in possession of its just prerogative,
a senate of nobles and of commons, and a clergy
established in its due rights, with a suitable main-
tenance by law. But these men come, with the
spirit of shopkeepers, to frame rules for the adminis-
tration of kingdoms; or, as if they thought the
whole art of government consisted in the importation
of nutmegs and the curing of herrings. Such an
island as ours can afford enough to support the
majesty of a crown, the honour of a nobility, and
the dignity of a magistracy; we can encourage arts
and sciences, maintain our bishops and clergy, and
suffer our gentry to live in a decent hospitable man-
ner; yet still there will remain hands sufficient for
trade and manufactures, which do always indeed
deserve the best encouragement, but not to a degree
of sending every living soul into the warehouse or
the workshop.
This pedantry of republican politics has done in-
finite mischief among us. To this we owe those
noble schemes of treating Christianity as a system
of speculative opinions which no man should be
bound to believe; of making the being and the wor-
ship of God a creature of the state; in consequence
of these, that the teachers of religion ought to hold
their maintenance at pleasure, or live by the alms
and charitable collection of the people, and be
equally encouraged of all opinions; that they should
be prescribed what to teach by those who are to
learn from them; and, upon default, have a staff
and a pair of shoes, left at their door,a with many
other projects of equal piety, wisdom and good
nature.
But God be thanked, they and their schemes are
vanished, and their places shall know them no more.
When I think of that inundation of atheism, infide-
lity, profaneness, and licentiousness, which was
likely to overwhelm us, from what mouths and
hearts it first proceeded, and how the people joined
with the queen's endeavours to divert this flood, I
cannot but reflect on that remarkable passage in the
Revelation, where "the serpent with seven heads b
cast out of his mouth water after the woman, like a
flood, that he might cause her to be carried away of
the flood: but the earth helped the woman, and the
earth opened her mouth, and swallowed up the flood
which the dragon had cast out of his mouth." For
the queen having changed her ministry suitably to
her own wisdom and the wishes of her subjects, and
having called a free parliament, and at the same
time summoned the convocation by her royal writ,
as in all times had been accustomed; and, soon after
their meeting, sent a most gracious letter to the
archbishop of Canterbury, to be communicated to
the bishops and clergy of his province, taking notice
of "the loose and profane principles which had
been openly scattered and propagated among her
subjects; that the consultations of the clergy were
To giye intimation, like the Dutch, that it was time to
withdraw themselves from the state.
The chiefs of the opposition, called a Heptarchy.
|
particularly requisite to repress and prevent such
daring attempts, for which her subjects from all
parts of the kingdom have shown their just abhor-
rence; she hopes the endeavours of the clergy in
this respect will not be unsuccessful; and, for her
part, is ready to give them all fit encouragement to
proceed in the despatch of such business as properly
belongs.to them, and to grant them powers requisite
to carry on so good a work :" in conclusion, "ear-
nestly recommending to them to avoid disputes;
and determining to do all that in her lies to com-
pose and extinguish them."
It is to be hoped, that this last part of her ma-
jesty's letter will be the first she will please to exe-
cute; for it seems, this very letter created the first
dispute, the fact whereof is thus related :-The upper
house, having formed an address to the queen before
they received her majesty's letter, sent both address
and letter together to the lower house, with a mes-
sage, excusing their not mentioning the letter in the
address; because this was formed before the other
was received. The lower house returned them, with
a desire that an address might be formed with a due
regard and acknowledgments for the letter. After
some difficulties, the same address was sent down
again, with a clause inserted, making some short
mention of the said letter. This the lower house did
not think sufficient, and sent it back again with the
same request; whereupon the archbishop, after a
short consultation with some of his brethren, imme-
diately adjourned the convocation for a month; and
no address at all was sent to the queen.
The
I understand not ecclesiastical affairs well enough
to comment upon this matter; but it seems to me,
that all methods of doing service to the church and
kingdom, by means of a convocation, may be at any
time eluded, if there be no remedy against such an
incident. And, if this proceeding be agreeable to
the institution, spiritual assemblies must needs be
strangely contrived, very
strangely contrived, very different from any lay senate
yet known in the world. Surely, from the nature
of such a synod, it must be a very unhappy circum-
stance, when the majority of the bishops draws one
way, and that of the lower clergy another.
latter, I think, are not at this time suspected, for any
principle bordering upon those professed by enemies
to episcopacy; and if they happen to differ from the
greater part of the present set of bishops, I doubt it
will call some things to mind, that may turn the scale
of general favour on the inferior clergy's side; who,
with a profound duty to her majesty, are perfectly
pleased with the present turn of affairs. Besides,
curious people will be apt to inquire into the dates
of some promotions; to call to mind what designs
were then upon the anvil, and thence make malicious
deductions. Perhaps they will observe the manner
of voting on the bishops' bench, and compare it with
what shall pass in the upper house of convocation.
There is however one comfort, that, under the pre-
sent dispositions of the kingdom, a dislike to the pro-
ceedings of any of their lordships, even to the num-
ber of a majority, will be purely personal, and not
turned to the disadvantage of the order. And for
my part, as I am a true lover of the church, I would
rather find the inclinations of the people favourable
to episcopacy in general, than see a majority of pre-
lates cried up by those who are known enemies to
the character. Nor, indeed, has anything given me
more offence for several years past, than to observe
how some of that bench have been caressed by cer-
tain persons, and others of them openly celebrated
by the infamous pens of atheists, republicans, and
fanatics.
Time and mortality can only remedy these incon-
THE EXAMINER.
313
veniences in the church, which are not to be cured,
like those in the state, by a change of ministry. If
we may guess the temper of a convocation from the
choice of a prolocutor, as it is usual to do that of a
house of commons by the speaker, we may expect
great things from that reverend body, who have done
themselves much reputation, by pitching upon a
gentleman of so much piety, wit, and learning, for
that office, and one who is so thoroughly versed in
those parts of knowledge which are proper for it.
[Atterbury]. I am sorry that the three Latin speeches,
delivered upon presenting the prolocutor, were not
made public; they might, perhaps, have given us
some light into the disposition of each house; and
besides one of them is said to be so peculiar in the
style and matter, as might have made up in enter-
tainment what it wanted in instruction.
No. 23.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 4, 1711.
Nullæ sunt occultiores insidiæ, quam ex, quæ latent in simula-
tione officii, aut in aliquo necessitudinis nomine.
It is extremely difficult to explore those designs which are
conceived under the veil of duty, and lie hid under the pre-
tence of friendship.
THE following answer is written in the true style,
and with the usual candour of such pieces; which
I have imitated to the best of my skill, and doubt
not but the reader will be extremely satisfied with
it.
The Examiner cross-examined; or, A full Answer to
the last Examiner.
IF I durst be so bold with this author, I would
gladly ask him a familiar question:-Pray, sir, who
made you an examiner? He talks in one of his in-
sipid papers of eight or nine thousand corruptions,
while we were at the head of affairs yet in all this
time he has hardly produced fifty :
Parturiunt montes, &c.-HOR.
But I shall confine myself at present to his last
paper. He tells us, the queen began her reign with
a noble benefaction to the church. Here's priest-
craft with a witness! This is the constant language
of your highfliers, to call those who are hired to
teach the religion of the magistrate by the name of
the church. But this is not all; for, in the very next
line, he says, it was hoped the nation would have
followed this example. You see the faction begins al-
ready to speak out; this is an open demand for the
abbey lands. This furious zealot would have us priest-
ridden again, like our popish ancestors; but it is to be
hoped the government will take timely care to suppress
such audacious attempts; else we have spent so much
blood and treasure to very little purpose, in main-
taining religion and the Revolution. But what can
we expect from a man who at one blow endeavours
to ruin our trade? A country, says he, may flourish
(these are his own words) without being the common
receptacle for all nations, religions, and languages.
What! we must immediately banish or murder
the Palatines; forbid all foreign merchants not only
the Exchange but the kingdom; persecute the dis-
senters with fire and fagot; and make it high trea-
son to speak any other tongue but English. In
another place, he talks of a serpent with seven heads,
which is a manifest corruption of the text; for the
words, seven heads, are not mentioned in that verse.
However, we know what serpent he would mean; a
serpent with fourteen legs, or indeed no serpent at
all, but seven great men, who were the best ministers,
the truest protestants, and the most disinterested
patriots that ever served a prince. But nothing is so
|
inconsistent as this writer. I know not whether to
call him a Whig or a Tory, a protestant or a papist;
he finds fault with convocations; says they are assem-
blies strangely contrived, and yet lays the fault upon
us, that we bound their hands: I wish we could
have bound their tongues too. But, as fast as their
hands were bound, they could make, a shift to hold
their pens, and have their share in the guilt of ruin-
ing the hopefullest party and ministry that ever pre-
scribed to a crown. This captious gentleman is
angry to see a majority of prelates cried up by those
who are enemies to the character; now I always
thought, that the concessions of enemies were more
to a man's advantage than the praise of his friends.
Time and mortality, he says, can only remedy these
inconveniences in the church; that is in other words,
when certain bishops are dead, we shall have others
of our own stamp. Not so fast; you are not yet so
sure of your game. We have already got one com-
fortable loss in Spain, although by a general of our
own; for joy of which our junto had a merry meet-
ing at the house of their great proselyte, on the very
day we received the happy news. One or two more
such blows would perhaps set us right again, and
then we can employ mortality as well as others.
concludes with wishing, that three letters, spoken
when the
when the prolocutor was presented, were made
public. I suppose he would be content with one,
and that is more than we shall humour him to grant.
However, I hope he will allow it possible to have
grace, without either eloquence or Latin, which is all
I shall say to this malicious innuendo.
|
He
Having thus, I hope, given a full and satisfactory
answer to the Examiner's last paper, 1 shall now go
on to a more important affair, which is to prove, by
several undeniable instances, that the late ministry
and their abettors were true friends to the church.
It is yet, I confess, a secret to the clergy wherein this
friendship did consist. For information, therefore,
of that reverend body, that they may never forget
their benefactors, as well as of all others who may
be equally ignorant, I have determined to display
our merits to the world upon that weighty article.
And I could wish, that what I am to say were to
be written in brass, for an eternal memorial; the
rather, because for the future the church may en-
deavour to stand unsupported by those patrons, who
expired in doing it their last good office, and will
never rise to preserve it any more.
Let us, therefore, produce the pious endeavours of
these church defenders, who were its patrons, by
their power and authority, as well as ornaments of
it, by their exemplary lives.
First, St. Paul tells us, there must be heresies in
the church, that the truth may be manifest; and
therefore, by due course of reasoning, the more here-
sies there are, the more manifest will the truth be
made. This being maturely considered by these
lovers of the church, they endeavoured to propagate
as many heresies as they could that the light of truth
might shine the clearer.
Secondly, to show their zeal for the church's de-
fence, they took the care of it entirely out of the
hands of God Almighty (because that was a foreign
jurisdiction), and made it their own creature, depend-
ing altogether upon them; and issued out their
orders to Tindal, and others, to give public notice
of it.
Thirdly, because charity is the most celebrated of
all christian virtues, therefore they extended theirs
beyond all bounds; and instead of shutting the
church against dissenters, were ready to open it to all
comers, and break down its walls, rather than that
any should want room to enter. The strength of a
314
THE EXAMINER.
to leave the merits of each cause to such wise, im-
partial judges; who might otherwise fall under the
slavery of believing, by education and prejudice.
state we know consists in the number of people, | nation. Nor could anything be more discreet, than
how different soever in their callings; and why
should not the strength of a church consist in the
same, how different soever in their creeds? For that
reason, they charitably attempted to abolish the test
which tied up so many hands from getting employ-
ments, in order to protect the church.
:
I know very well that this attempt is objected to
as a crime by several malignant Tories; and denied
as a slander by many unthinking people among our-
selves. The latter are apt, in their defence, to ask
such questions as these: Was your test repealed?
had we not a majority? might we not have done it,
if we pleased? To which the others answer, You did
what you could you prepared the way, but you
found a fatal impediment from that quarter whence
the sanction of the law must come; and therefore,
to save your credit, you condemned a paper to be
burnt, which yourselves had brought in. But, alas!
the miscarriage of that noble project for the safety
of the church had another original; the knowledge
whereof depends upon a piece of secret history, which
I shall now lay open.
Sixthly, Because nothing so much distracts the
thoughts as too great a variety of subjects, therefore
they had kindly prepared a bill to prescribe the
clergy what subjects they should preach upon, and
in what manner, that they might be at no loss; and
this, no doubt, was a proper work for such hands, so
thoroughly versed in the theory and practice of all
Christian duties.
Seventhly, To save trouble and expense to the
clergy, they contrived that convocations should meet
as seldom as possible; and when they were suffered
to assemble, would never allow them to meddle with
any business; because, they said, the office of a
clergyman was enough to take up the whole man.
For the same reason, they were very desirous to ex-
cuse the bishops from sitting in parliament, that they
might be at more leisure to stay at home, and look
after the inferior clergy.
I shall mention at present but one more instance
of their pious zeal for the church. They had some-
where heard the maxim, that Sanguis martyrum est
semen ecclesiæ; therefore, in order to sow this seed,
they began with impeaching a clergyman: and that
it might be a true martyrdom in every circumstance,
they proceeded as much as possible against common
law; which the long-robe part of the managers
knew was in a hundred instances directly contrary
to all their positions, and were sufficiently warned
of it beforehand; but their love of the church pre-
vailed. Neither was this impeachment an affair
taken up on a sudden; for a certain great person,
(whose character has been lately published by some
stupid and lying writer,) who very much distin-
guished himself by his zeal in forwarding this im-
peachment, had several years ago endeavoured to
persuade the late king to give way to just such
another attempt. He told his majesty, there was a
certain clergyman, who preached very dangerous
sermons, and that the only way to put a stop to such
insolence was to impeach him in parliament. The
king inquired the character of the man: "O, sir,”
said my lord, "the most violent, hot, positive fellow
in England; so extremely wilful, that, I believe, he
would be heartily glad to be a martyr." The king
answered, "Is it so then I am resolved to disap-
These church-protectors had directed a presbyte-
rian preacher to draw up a bill for repealing the test.
It was accordingly done with great art; and in the
preamble, several expressions of civility to the esta-
blished church; and when it came to the qualifica-
tions of all those who were to enter on any office,
the compiler had taken special care to make them
large enough for all christians whatsoever, by tran-
scribing the very words (only formed into an oath)
which quakers are obliged to profess by a former act
of parliament, as I shall here set them down: “I, A.
B., profess faith in God the Father, and in Jesus
Christ his eternal Son, the true God; and in the
Holy Spirit, one God, blessed for evermore; and do
acknowledge the holy scriptures of the Old and New
Testament to be given by divine inspiration." This
bill was carried to the chief leaders, for their appro-
bation, with these terrible words turned into an oath:
what should they do? Those few among them, who
fancied they believed in God, were sure they did not
believe in Christ, or the Holy Spirit, or one syllable
of the Bible; and they were as sure that everybody
knew their opinion in those matters, which, indeed,
they had been always too sincere to disguise; how,
therefore, could they take such an oath as that, with-
out ruining their reputation with Tindal, Toland,
Coward, Collins, Clendon, and all the tribe of free-point him;" and would never hear more of the
thinkers, and so give a scandal to weak unbelievers?
Upon this nice point of honour and conscience, the
matter was hushed, the project for repealing the
test let fall, and the sacrament left as the smaller
evil of the two.
Fourthly, These pillars of the church, because
the harvest was great, and the labourers few, and be-
cause they would ease the bishops from the grievous
trouble of laying on hands, were willing to allow
that power to all men whatsoever, to prevent that,
terrible consequence of unchurching those, who
thought a hand from under a cloak as effectual as
from lawn sleeves. And, indeed, what could more
contribute to the advancement of true religion, than
a bill of general naturalization for priesthood?
Fifthly, In order to fix religion in the minds of
men, because truth never appears so fair as when
confronted with falsehood, they directed books to be
published, that denied the being of a God, the di-
vinity of the Second and Third Person, the truth of
all revelation, and the immortality of the soul. To
this we owe that great sense of religion, that respect
and kindness of the clergy, and that true love of vir-
tue, so manifest of late years among the youth of our
matter, by which that hopeful project unhappily
miscarried.
I have hitherto confined myself to those endea-
vours for the good of the church, which were com-
mon to all the leaders and principal men of our
party; but, if my paper were not drawing toward
an end, I could produce several instances of particu-
lar persons, who, by their exemplary lives and
actions, have confirmed the character so justly due
to the whole body. I shall at present mention only
two, and illustrate the merits of each by a matter of
fact.
That worthy patriot and true lover of the church,
whom a late Examiner is supposed to reflect on un-
der the name of Verres, felt a pious impulse to be a
benefactor to the cathedral of Gloucester; but how
to do it in the most decent, generous manner, was
the question. At last he thought of an expedient:
one morning, or night, he stole into the church,
mounted upon the altar, and there did that, which,
in cleanly phrase, is called disburdening of nature.
Hea was discovered, prosecuted, and condemned to
pay a thousand pounds; which sum was all em-
a Lord Wharton had been guilty of what is here stated.
THE EXAMINER.
315
ployed to support the church, as, no doubt, the
benefactor meant it.
There is another person, whom the same writer is
thought to point at, under the name of Will Bigamy.
This gentleman, knowing that marriage fees were a
considerable perquisite to the clergy, found out a
way of improving them cent. per cent. for the good
of the church. His invention was to marry a second
wife, while the first was alive, convincing her of the
lawfulness by such arguments, as he did not doubt
would make others follow the same example.
These he had drawn up in writing, with an inten-
tion to publish for the general good: and it is hoped
he may now have leisure to finish them.
No. 24.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 11, 1711.
Bellum ita suscipiatur, ut nihil aliud nisi pax quæsita videatur.
War should be undertaken only with a view to procure a solid
and lasting peace.
I AM satisfied, that no reasonable man of either
party can justly be offended at anything I said in
one of my papers relating to the army. From the
maxims I there laid down, perhaps many persons
may conclude, that I had a mind the world should
think there had been occasion given by some late
abuses among men of that calling; and they con-
clude right for my intention is, that my hints may
be understood, and my quotations and allegories
applied; and I am in some pain to think, that in
the Orcades on one side, and the western coasts of
Ireland on the other, the Examiner may want a key
in several parts, which I wish I could furnish them
with. As to the French king, I am under no con-
cern at all; I hear he has left off reading my papers,
and by what he has found in them, dislikes our pro-
ceedings more than ever; and intends either to
make great additions to his armies, or propose new
terms for a peace.
So false is that which is com-
monly reported, of his mighty satisfaction in our
change of ministry. And I think it clear, that his
late letter of thanks to the Tories of Great Britain
must either have been extorted from him against his
judgment, or was a cast of his politics to set the
people against the present ministry, wherein it has
wonderfully succeeded.
But, though I have never heard, or never re-
garded any objections made against that paper which
mentions the army, yet I intended this as a sort of
apology for it. And first I declare (because we live
in a mistaking world) that at hinting at some pro-
ceedings, wherein a few persons are said to be con-
cerned, I did not intend to charge them upon the
body of the army. I have too much detested that
barbarous injustice among the writers of a late
party to be ever guilty of it myself; I mean, the
accusing of societies for the crimes of a few. On
the other side, I must take leave to believe that
armies are no more exempt from corruptions than
other numbers of men. The maxims proposed were
occasionally introduced by the report of certain facts,
which I am bound to believe are true, because I am
sure, considering what has passed, it would be a
crime to think otherwise. All posts in the army,
all employments at court, and many others, are, or
ought to be, given and resumed at the mere plea-
sure of the prince; yet when I see a great officer
broke, a change made in the court or the ministry,
and this under the most just and gracious princess
that ever reigned, I must naturally conclude, it is
done upon prudent considerations, and for some
great demerit in the sufferers. But then, is not the
punishment sufficient? Is it generous or charitable
to trample on the unfortunate, and expose their
faults to the world in the strongest colours? And
would it not suit better with magnanimity, as well
as common good nature, to leave them at quiet to
their own thoughts and repentance? Yes, without
question; provided it could be so contrived, that
their very names, as well as actions, might be for-
gotten for ever such an act of oblivion would be
for the honour of the nation, and beget a better
opinion of us with posterity; and then I might have
spared the world and myself the trouble of examin-
ing. But at present there is a cruel dilemma in the
case; the friends and abettors of the late ministry
are every day publishing their praises to the world,
and casting reflections upon the present persons in
power. This is so barefaced an aspersion upon the
queen, that I know not how any good subject can
with patience endure it, although he were ever so
indifferent with regard to the opinions in dispute.
Shall they, who have lost all power and love of the
people, be allowed to scatter their poison? and shall
not those, who are at least of the strongest side, be
suffered to bring an antidote? And how can we
undeceive the deluded remainder, but by letting
them see that these discarded statesmen were justly
laid aside; and producing as many instances to
prove it as we can, not from any personal hatred to
them, but in justification to the best of queens. The
many scurrilities I have heard and read against this
poor paper of mine are in such a strain, that, con-
sidering the present state of affairs, they look like a
jest. They usually run after the following manner:
"What! Shall this insolent writer presume to cen-
sure the late ministry, the ablest, the most faithful,
and truest lovers of their country and its constitu-
tion, that ever served a prince? Shall he reflect on
the best house of commons that ever sat within
those walls? Has not the queen changed both, for
a ministry and parliament of Jacobites and high-
fliers, who are selling us to France, and bringing
over the pretender ?" This is the very sum and
force of all their reasonings, and this is their method
of complaining against the Examiner. In them, it
is humble and loyal to reflect upon the queen, and
the ministry and parliament she has chosen with the
universal applause of her people; in us, it is inso-
lent to defend her majesty and her choice, or to an-
swer their objections, by showing the reasons why
those changes were necessary.
The same style has been used in the late case
concerning some gentlemen in the army.
Such a
clamour was raised by a set of men, who had the
boldness to tax the administration with cruelty and
injustice, that I thought it necessary to interfere a
little, by showing the ill consequences that might
arise from some proceedings, although without ap-
plication to particular persons. And what do they
offer in answer? Nothing but a few poor common-
places against calumny and informers, which might
have been full as just and seasonable in a plot against
the sacred person of the queen.
But by the way, why are these idle people so indis-
creet to name those two words, which afford occasion
of laying open to the world such an infamous scene
of subornation and perjury, as well as calumny and
informing, as I believe is without example; when a
whole cabal attempted an action, wherein a con-
demned criminal [Greg] refused to join with them
for the reward of his life? Not that I disapprove
their sagacity who could foretell so long before by
what hand they should one day fall, and therefore
thought any means justifiable by which they might
prevent it.
But, waving this at present, it must be owned in
316
THE EXAMINER.
justice to the army, that those violences did not pro- |
ceed so far among them as some have believed; nor
ought the madness of a few to be laid at their doors.
For the rest, I am so far from denying the due
praises to those brave troops who did their part in
procuring so many victories for the allies, that J
could wish every officer and private soldier had their
full share of honour, in proportion to their deserts;
being thus far of the Athenians' mind, who when it
was proposed that the statue of Miltiades should be
set up alone in some public place of the city, said,
they would agree to it, whenever he conquered
alone, but not before. Neither do I at all blame
the officers of the army for preferring in their hearts
the late ministry before the present, or, if wishing
alone could be of any use for wishing their con-
tinuance, because then they might be secure of the
war's continuance too; whereas, since affairs have
been put into other hands, they may perhaps lie
under some apprehensions of a peace, which no
army, especially in the course of success, was ever
inclined to, and which all wise states have in such
a juncture chiefly endeavoured. This is a point,
wherein the civil and military politics have always
disagreed, and for that reason I affirmed it necessary,
in all free governments, that the latter should be ab-
solutely in subjection to the former, otherwise one
of these two inconveniences must arise, either to be
perpetually in war, or to turn the civil institution
into a military.
be
I am ready to allow all that has been said of the
valour and experience of our troops, who have fully
contributed their part to the great successes abroad;
nor is it their fault that those important victories had
no better consequences at home, though it may be
their advantage. War is their trade and business; to
improve and cultivate the advantages of success is
an affair of the cabinet; and the neglect of this,
whether proceeding from weakness or corruption,
according to the usual uncertainty of wars, may
of the most fatal consequence to a nation. For,
pray let me represent our condition in such a light,
as I believe both parties will allow, though perhaps
not the consequences I shall deduce from it. We
have been for above nine years blessed with a queen,
who, beside all virtues that can enter into the com-
position of a private person, possesses every regal
quality that can contribute to make a people happy;
of great wisdom, yet ready to receive the advice of
her counsellors; of much discernment in choosing
proper instruments, when she follows her own judg-
ment; and only capable of being deceived by that
excess of goodness which makes her judge of others
by herself; frugal in her management, in order to
contribute to the public, which in proportion she
does, and that voluntarily, beyond any of her sub-
jects; but from her own nature generous and cha-
ritable to all who want or deserve; and in order to
exercise those virtues, denying herself all entertain-
ments of expense which many others enjoy. Then,
if we look abroad, at least in Flanders, our arms
have been crowned with perpetual success in battles
and sieges, not to mention several fortunate actions
in Spain. These facts being thus stated, which
none can deny, it is natural to ask, how we have
improved such advantages, and to what account they
have turned? I shall use no discouraging terms.
When a patient grows daily worse by the tampering
of mountebanks, there is nothing left but to call in
the best physicians, before the case grows desperate.
But I would ask whether France, or any other king-
dom, would have made so little use of such pro-
digious opportunities? the fruits whereof could never
have fallen to the ground without the extremest
|
degree of folly and corruption; and where those
have lain, let the world judge. Instead of aiming at
peace, while we had the advantage of the war,
which has been the perpetual maxim of all wise
states, it has been reckoned factious and malignant
even to express our wishes for it; and such a con-
dition imposed, as was never offered to any prince
who had an inch of ground to dispute; quæ enim
est conditio pacis, in qua ei, cum quo pacem facias,
nihil concedi potest?
It is not obvious to conceive what could move
men, who sat at home, and were called to consult
upon the good of the kingdom, to be so utterly averse
from putting an end to a long, expensive war, which
the victorious, as well as conquered side, were heartily
weary of. Few, or none of them, were men of the
sword; they had no share in the honour; they had
made large fortunes, and were at the head of all affairs.
But they well knew by what tenure they held their
power; that the queen saw through their designs;
that they had entirely lost the hearts of the clergy;
that the landed men were against them; that they
were detested by the body of the people; and that
nothing bore them up but their credit with the bank,
and other stocks, which would be neither formidable
nor necessary when the war was at an end. For
these reasons, they resolved to disappoint all over-
tures of a peace, until they and their party should be
so deeply rooted, as to make it impossible to shake
them. To this end they began to precipitate matters
so fast, as in a little time must have ruined the con-
stitution, if the crown had not interposed, and rather
ventured the accidental effects of their malice than
such dreadful consequences of their power. And,
indeed, if the former danger had been greater than
some hoped or feared, I see no difficulty in the
choice, which was the same with his, who said he
would rather be devoured by wolves than by rats.
I therefore still insist, that we cannot wonder at, or
find fault with the army for concurring with the
ministry, which was for prolonging the war. The
inclination is natural in them all; pardonable in
those who have not yet made their fortunes; and as
lawful in the rest as love of power or love of money
can make it. But, as natural, as pardonable, and
as lawful as this inclination is, when it is not under
check of the civil power, or when a corrupt ministry
joins in giving it too great a scope, the consequence
can be nothing less than infallible ruin and slavery
to the state.
After I had finished this paper the printer sent
me two small pamphlets, called "The Management
of the War;" written with some plausibility, much
artifice, and abundance of misrepresentations, as
well as direct falsehoods in point of fact. These I
have thought worth examining, which I shall ac-
cordingly do, when I find an opportunity.
No. 25.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 18, 1711.
Parva momenta in spem metumque impellunt animos.
The merest trifles influence the human mind, and impel it to
hope or fear.
HOPES are natural to most men, especially to san-
guine complexions, and among the various changes
that happen in the course of public affairs, they are
seldom without some grounds. Even in desperate
cases, where it is impossible they should have any
foundation, they are often affected to keep a coun-
tenance, and make an enemy think we have some
resource which they know nothing of. This appears
to have been for several months past the condition.
of those people, whom I am forced for want of other
THE EXAMINER.
317
artifices, like intoxicating medicines, until the con-
stitution was destroyed; yet the malignity being
spent, and the humour exhausted that served to
foment it, before the usurpers could fix upon a new
scheme, the people suddenly recovered and peace-
ably restored the old constitution.
t
phrases to call the ruined party. They have taken | In our own island we had a great example of a
up since their fall some real, and some pretended | long madness in the people, kept up by a thousand
hopes. When the earl of Sunderland was discarded,
they hoped her majesty would proceed no further
in the change of her ministry, and had the insolence
to misrepresent her words to foreign states. They
hoped nobody durst advise the dissolution of the
parliament. When this was done, and further al-
terations made in court, they hoped, and endea-
voured to ruin the credit of the nation. They
likewise hoped that we should have some terrible
loss abroad, which would force us to unravel all, and
begin again upon their bottom. But, of all their
hopes, whether real or assumed, there is none more
extraordinary than that in which they now would
seem to place their whole confidence: that this great
turn of affairs was only occasioned by a short mad-
ness of the people, from which they will recover in a
little time, when their eyes are open, and they grow
cool and sober enough to consider the truth of things,
and how much they have been deceived. It is not
improbable, that some few of the deepest sighted
among these reasoners are well enough convinced
how vain all such hopes must be; but for the rest,
the wisest of them seem to have been very ill judges
of the people's dispositions, the want of which
knowledge was a principal occasion to hasten their
ruin; for surely, had they suspected which way the
popular current inclined, they never would have
run against it by that impeachment. I therefore
conclude, they generally are so blind as to imagine
some comfort from this fantastical opinion, that the
people of England are at present distracted, but
will shortly come to their senses again.
For the service therefore of our adversaries and
friends I shall briefly examine this point, by showing
what are the causes and symptoms of a people's
madness, and how it differs from their natural bent
and inclination.
It is Machiavel's observation, that the people
when left to their own judgment do seldom mistake
their true interests; and indeed they naturally love
the constitution they are born under; never desiring
to change, but under great oppressions. However,
they are to be deceived by several means. It has
often happened in Greece, and sometimes in Rome,
that those very men who have contributed to shake
off a former tyranny, have, instead of restoring the
old constitution, deluded the people into a worse
and more ignominious slavery. Besides, all great
changes have the same effects upon commonwealths
that thunder has upon liquors, making the dregs fly
up to the top; the lowest plebeians rise to the head
of affairs, and these preserve themselves, by repre-
senting the nobles, and other friends to the old
government, as enemies to the public. The en-
couraging of new mysteries and new deities, with
the pretences of further purity in religion, has like-
wise been a frequent topic to mislead the people.
And, not to mention more, the promoting false re-
ports of dangers from abroad has often served to
prevent them from fencing against real dangers at
home. By these and the like arts, in conjunction
with a great depravity of manners, and a weak or
corrupt administration, the madness of the people
has risen to such a height as to break in pieces the
whole frame of the best instituted governments.
But, however, such great frenzies being artificially
raised are a perfect force and constraint upon human
nature; and, under a wise steady prince, will cer
tainly decline of themselves, settling like the sea
after a storm; and then the true bent and genius of
the people will appear. Ancient and modern story
are full of instances to illustrate what I say.
From what I have offered, it will be easy to decide
whether this late change in the disposition of the
people was a new madness, or a recovery from an
old one. Neither do I see how it can be proved
that such a change had, in any circumstance, the
least symptom of madness, whether my description
of it be right or not. It is agreed that the truest
way of judging the disposition of the people, in the
choice of their representatives, is by computing the
county elections; and in these it is manifest, that
five in six are entirely for the present measures;
although the court was so far from interposing its
credit, that there was no change in the admiralty,
not above one or two in the lieutenancy, nor any
other methods used to influence elections. The
free, unextorted addresses, sent some time before
from every part of the kingdom, plainly showed what
sort of bent the people had taken, and from what
motives. The election of members for this great
city, carried contrary to all conjecture against the
united interest of those two great bodies, the Bank
and East India Company, was another convincing
argument. Besides, the Whigs themselves have
always confessed that the bulk of landed men in
England was generally of Tories. So that this
change must be allowed to be according to the
natural genius and disposition of the people;
whether it were just and reasonable in itself or
not.
Notwithstanding all which, you shall frequently
hear the partisans of the late men in power gravely
and decisively pronounce, that the present ministry
cannot possibly stand. Now they who affirm this,
if they believe themselves, must ground their opinion
upon the iniquity of the last being so far established
and deeply rooted, that no endeavours of honest
men will be able to restore things to their former
state; or else these reasoners have been so misled
by twenty years' mismanagement that they have
forgot our constitution, and talk as if our monarchy
and revolution began together. But the body of the
people is wiser; and, by the choice they have made,
show they do understand our constitution, and
would bring it back to the old form; which, if the
new ministers take care to maintain, they will and
ought to stand; otherwise, they may fall like their
predecessors.
predecessors. But I think we may easily foresee
what a parliament, freely chosen, without threaten-
ing or corruption, is likely to do, when no man
should be in any danger to lose his place by the
freedom of his voice.
But, who are the advancers of this opinion that
the present ministry cannot hold? It must be either
such as are afraid to be called to an account in case
it should hold, or those who keep offices from which
others better qualified were removed, and may rea-
sonably apprehend to be turned out for worthier
men to come into their places; since perhaps it will
be necessary to make some changes that the public
business of the nation may go on: or lastly, stock-
jobbers, who industriously spread such reports, that
actions [stocks] may fall, and their friends buy to
advantage.
Yet these hopes, thus freely expressed, as they
are more sincere, so they are more supportable than
when they appear under the disguise and pretence
318
THE EXAMINER.
of fears. Some of these gentlemen are employed to
shake their heads in proper companies; to doubt
where all this will end; to be in mighty pain for the
nation; to show how impossible it is that the public
credit can be supported; to pray that all may do
well, in whatever hands; but very much to doubt
that the pretender is at the bottom. I know not
anything so nearly resembling this behaviour as
what I have often seen among the friends of a sick
man whose interest it is that he should die. The
physicians protest they see no danger, the symptoms
are good, the medicines answer expectation; yet still
they are not to be comforted; they whisper he is a
gone man, it is not possible he should hold out; he
has perfect death in his face; they never liked his
doctor. At last the patient recovers, and their joy
is as false as their grief.
I believe there is no man so sanguine who did not |
apprehend some ill consequences from the late
change, though not in any proportion to the good
ones; but it is manifest the former have proved
much fewer and lighter than were expected, either
at home or abroad, by the fears of our friends or the
hopes of our enemies. Those remedies that stir the
humours in a diseased body are at first more painful
than the malady itself, yet certain death is the con-
sequence of deferring them too long. Actions have
fallen, and the loans are said to come in slowly.
But, beside that something of this must have been,
whether there had been any change or not; beside,
that the surprise of every change, for the better as
well as the worse, is apt to affect credit for a while;
there is a further reason, which is plain and scanda-
lous. When the late party was at the helm, those
who were called the Tories never put their resent-
ments in balance with the safety of the nation, but
cheerfully contributed to the common cause: now
the scene is changed, the fallen party seems to act
from very different motives; they have given the
word about, they will keep their money and be pas-
sive, and in this point stand upon the same foot with
papists and nonjurors. What would have become
of the public if the present great majority had acted
thus during the late administration, before the others
were masters of that wealth they have squeezed out
of the landed men, and with the strength of which
they would now hold the kingdom at defiance?
Not
Thus much I have thought fit to say, without
pointing reflections upon any particular person,
which I have hitherto but sparingly done, and that
only toward those whose characters are too profligate
for the managing of them to be of any consequence.
Beside, as it is a talent I am not naturally fond of,
so, in the subjects I treat, it is generally needless.
If I display the effects of avarice and ambition, of
bribery and corruption, of gross immorality and
irreligion; those who are the least conversant in
things will easily know where to apply them.
that I lay any weight upon the objections of such
who charge me with this proceeding: it is notorious
enough that the writers of the other side were the
first aggressors. Not to mention their scurrilous
libels, many years ago, directly levelled at particular
persons, how many papers do now come out every
week full of rude invectives against the present
ministry, with the first and last letters of their
names, to prevent mistakes! It is good sometimes
to let these people see that we neither want spirit
nor materials to retaliate: and therefore in this
point alone I shall follow their example whenever I
find myself sufficiently provoked; only with one
addition, that whatever charges I bring, either
general or particular, shall be religiously true,
founded either upon avowed facts which none can
deny, or such as I can prove from my own know-
ledge.
Being resolved publicly to confess any mistakes
I have been guilty of, I do hereby humbly desire
the reader's pardon for one of mighty importance
about a fact in one of my papers said to be done in
the cathedral of Gloucester. A whole Hydra of
errors in two words! For, as I am since informed,
it was neither in the cathedral, nor city, nor county
of Gloucester, but some other church of that dio-
cese. If I had ever met any other objection of equal
weight, although from the meanest hands, I should
certainly have answered it.
No. 26.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 25, 1711.
Διαλεξάμενοί τινα ἡσυχῆ, τὸ μὲν συμπαν ἐπί τε τῆ δυναστεία,
καὶ κατα τῶν ἐχθρῶν συνώμοσαν.
Summissa quædam voce collocuti sunt, quorum,summa erat de
dominatione sibi confirmanda, ac inimicis delendis, conjuratio.
They meet, they whisper together, and their whole design is to
establish themselves in their ill-gotten power upon the ruin
of their enemies.
Nor many days ago I observed a knot of discontented
gentlemen cursing the Tories to hell for their un-
charitableness in affirming that if the late ministry
had continued to this time, we should have had
neither church nor monarchy left. They are usually
so candid as to call that the opinion of the party
which they hear in a coffeehouse, or over a bottle,
from some warm young people, whom it is odds but
they have provoked to say more than they believed,
by some positions as absurd and ridiculous of their
own. And so it proved in this very instance; for,
asking one of these gentlemen what it was that pro-
voked those he had been disputing with to advance
such a paradox, he assured me, in a very calm man-
ner, it was nothing in the world but that himself,
and some others of the company, had made it ap-
pear that the design of the present parliament and
ministry was to bring in popery, arbitrary power, and
the pretender; which I take to be an opinion fifty
times more improbable, as well as more uncharitable,
than what is charged upon the Whigs; because I defy
our adversaries to produce one single reason for sus-
pecting such designs in the persons now at the
helm; whereas I can, upon demand, produce twenty
to show that some late men had strong views toward
a commonwealth, and the alteration of the church.
It is natural, indeed, when a storm is over, that
has only untiled our houses, and blown down some
of our chimneys, to consider what further mischiefs
might have ensued if it had lasted longer. How-
ever, in the present case, I am not of the opinion.
above mentioned. I believe the church and state
might have lasted somewhat longer, although the
late enemies to both had done their worst. I can
hardly conceive how things would have been so
soon ripe for a new revolution. I am convinced
that if they had offered to make such large and sud-
den strides, it must have come to blows; and ac-
cording to the computation, we have now reason to
think a right one, I can partly guess what would
have been the issue. Besides, we are sure the
queen would have interposed before they came to
extremities; and as little as they regarded the regal
authority, would have been a check in their career.
But instead of this question, what would have
been the consequence if the late ministry had con-
tinued? I will propose another, which will be more
useful for us to consider; and that is, what may we
reasonably expect they will do if ever they come
power again? This we know is the design and
into
THE EXAMINER.
319
a
"A bill of attainder against Charles duke of
Shrewsbury, John duke of Buckingham, Laurence
earl of Rochester, sir Simon Harcourt, knight,
Robert Harley and William Shippen, esqrs., Abigail
Masham, spinster, and others, for high treason
against the junto.
"Resolved, That Sarah duchess of Marlborough
has been a most dutiful, just, and grateful servant to
her majesty.
"Resolved, That to advise the dissolution of a
Whig parliament or the removal of a Whig ministry,
was in order to bring in popery and the pretender;
and that the said advice was high treason.
endeavour of all those scribblers which daily fly | instructions to the committee that care may be taken
about in their favour; of all the false, insolent, and to make the war last as long as the life of the said
scandalous libels against the present administration, general.
and of all those engines set at work to sink the ac-
tions and blow up the public credit. As for those
who show their inclinations by writing, there is one
consideration which I wonder does not sometimes
affect them; for how can they forbear having a good
opinion of the gentleness and innocence of those
who permit them to employ their pens as they do?
It puts me in mind of an insolent pragmatical orator
somewhere in Greece, who, railing with great
freedom at the chief men in the state, was answered.
by one who had been very instrumental in recover-
ing the liberty of the city, that he thanked the gods
they had now arrived to the condition he always
wished them in, when every man in that city might
securely say what he pleased. I wish these gentle-
men would, however, compare the liberty they take
with what their masters used to give; how many
messengers and warrants would have gone out
against any who durst have opened their lips, or
drawn their pens against the persons and proceed-
ings of their juntoes and cabals? How would their
weekly writers have been calling out for prosecution
and punishment? We remember when a poor
nickname,a borrowed from an old play of Ben
Jonson, and mentioned in a sermon without any
particular application, was made use of as a motive
to spur on an impeachment. But after all it must
be confessed they had reasons to be thus severe,
which their successors have not: their faults would
never endure the light; and to have exposed them
sooner would have raised the kingdom against the
actors before the proper time.
But to come to the subject I have now under-
taken, which is, to examine what the consequences
would be upon supposition that the Whigs were
now restored to their power. I already imagine the
present free parliament dissolved, and another of a
different epithet met, by the force of money and
management. I read immediately a dozen or two
of stinging votes against the proceedings of the late
ministry. The bill now to be repealed would then
be re-enacted, and the birthright of an Englishman
reduced again to the value of twelvepence. But, to
give the reader a strong imagination of such a scene,
let me represent the designs of some men, lately
endeavoured and projected, in the form of a paper
of votes.
"Ordered, That a bill be brought in for repealing
the sacramental test.
"A petition of Tindal, Collins, Clendon, Coward,
and Toland, in behalf of themselves and many hun-
dreds of their disciples, some of whom are members
of this honourable house, desiring that leave may
be given to bring in a bill for qualifying atheists,
deists, and Socinians, to serve their country in any
employment, ecclesiastical, civil, or military.
"Ordered, That leave be given to bring in a bill
according to the prayer of the said petition; and
that Mr. Lechmerec do prepare and bring in the
same.
"Ordered, That a bill be brought in for removing
the education of youth out of the hands of the
clergy.
"Another to forbid the clergy preaching certain
duties in religion; especially obedience to princes.
"Another to take away the jurisdiction of bishops.
"Another for constituting a general for life; with
In Dr. Sacheverel's sermon Godolphin bears the nick-name
of Volpone.
A bill for a general naturalization.
• One of the managers against Dr. Sacheverel, who summed
up the evidence.
|
Resolved, That by the original compact the
government of this realm is by a junto, and a king,
or queen; but the administration solely in the
junto.
"Ordered, That a bill be brought in for further
limiting the prerogative.
"Ordered, That it be a standing order of this
house that the merit of elections be not determined
by the number of voices, or right of electors, but by
weight; and that one Whig shall weigh down ten
Tories.
"A motion being made, and the question being
put, that when a Whig is detected of manifest bribery,
and his competitor, being a Tory, has ten to one a
majority, there shall be a new election; it passed in
the negative.
"Resolved, That for a king or queen of this
realm to read or examine a paper brought them to
be signed by a junto minister is arbitrary and illegal,
and a violation of the liberties of the people."
These, and the like reformations, would, in all
probability, be the first fruits of the Whigs' resur-
rection; and what structures such able artists might
in a short time build upon such foundations, I leave
others to conjecture. All hopes of a peace cut off;
the nation industriously involved in further debts,
to a degree that none would dare undertake the
management of affairs but those whose interest lay
in ruining the constitution: I do not see how the
wisest prince, under such necessities, could be
able to extricate himself. Then as to the church :
the bishops would by degrees be dismissed, first from
the parliament, next from their revenues, and at last
from their office; and the clergy, instead of their
idle claim of independency on the state, would be
forced to depend for their daily bread on every in-
dividual. But what system of future government
was designed, whether it were already digested, or
would have been left for time and incidents to mature,
I shall not now examine. Only upon this occasion
I cannot help reflecting on a fact which it is pro-
bable the reader knows as well as myself. There
was a picture drawn some time ago representing
five persons, as large as the life, sitting in council
together, like a pentarchy; a void space was left for
the sixth, which was to have been the queen, to
whom they intended that honour; but her majesty
having since fallen under their displeasure, they
have made a shift to crowd in two better friends in
her place, which makes it a complete heptarchy.
This piece is now in the country, reserved until
better times, and hangs in the hall among the pic-
tures of Cromwell, Bradshaw, Ireton, and some
other predecessors.
I must now desire leave to say something to a
gentleman who has been pleased to publish a dis-
course against a paper of mine, relating to the con-
a Altered afterwards to James duke of Ormond.
320
THE EXAMINER.
vocation. He promises to set me right without any
undue reflections, or indecent language. I suppose
he means, in comparison with others who pretend
to answer the Examiner. So far he is right; but
if he thinks he has behaved himself as becomes a
candid antagonist, I believe he is mistaken. He
says, in his title-page, my representations are unfair
and my reflections unjust: and his conclusion is
yet more severe; where he doubts I and my friends
are enraged against the Dutch, because they pre-
served us from popery and arbitrary power at the
Revolution; and, since that time, from being over-
run by the exorbitant power of France, and becom-
ing a prey to the pretender. Because this author
seems in general to write with an honest meaning, I
would seriously put to hirn the question, Whether
he thinks I and my friends are for popery, arbitrary
power, France, and the pretender? I omit other
instances of smaller moment, which, however, do
not suit, in my opinion, with due reflection or de-
cent language. The fact relating to the convoca-
tion came from a good hand; and I do not find this
author differs from me in any material circumstance
about it. My reflections were no more than what
might be obvious to any other gentleman who had
heard of their late proceedings. If the notion be
right which this author gives us of a lower house of
convocation, it is a very melancholy one; and to me
seems utterly inconsistent with that of a body of
men, whom he owns to have a negative; and, there-
fore, since a great majority of the clergy differs from
him in several points he advances I shall rather
choose to be of their opinion than his. I fancy
when the whole synod met in one house, as this
writer affirms, they were upon a better foot with
their bishops; and, therefore, whether this treat-
ment, so extremely de haut en bas, since their exclu-
sion, be suitable to primitive custom or primitive
humility toward brethren, is not my business to in-
quire. One may allow the divine or apostolic right
of episcopacy, and its great superiority over presby-
ters, and yet dispute the methods of exercising the
latter, which, being of human institution, are sub-
ject to encroachments and usurpations. I know
every clergyman in a diocese has a great deal of
dependence upon his bishop, and owes him canoni-
cal obedience: but I was apt to think, that when
the whole representative of the clergy met in a
synod, they were considered in another light; at
least since they are allowed to have a negative. If
I am mistaken, I desire to be excused, as talking out
of my trade; only there is one thing wherein I en-
tirely differ from this author: since, in the disputes
about privileges, one side must recede; where so
very few privileges remain, it is a hundred to one
odds, that the encroachments are not on the infe-
rior clergy's side; and no man can blame them for
insisting on the small number that is left. There is
one fact wherein I must take occasion to set this
author right that the person [earl of Oxford, lord-
treasurer] who first moved the queen to remit the
first-fruits and tenths to the clergy, was an eminent
instrument in the late turn of affairs; and, I am
told, has lately prevailed to have the same favour
granted for the clergy of Ireland.ª
But I must beg leave to inform this author, that
my paper is not intended for the management of
controversy; which would be of very little import
to most readers, and only mispend time that I would
gladly employ to better purposes. For where it is
a man's business to entertain a whole roomful, it is
unmannerly to apply himself to a particular person,
and turn his back upon the rest of the company.
"This was done by the solicitation of Swift.
No. 27.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 1711.
Ea autem est gloria, laus recte factorum, maguorumque in rem-
publicam meritorum: quæ cum optimi cujusque, tum etiam
multitudinis, testimonio comprobatur.
That is real honour and true praise for glorious actions to a
meritorious state, when they gain the commendation and
esteem of the great, and, at the same time, the love and ap-
probation of the common people.
I AM thinking what a mighty advantage it is to be
entertained as a writer to a ruined cause. I remem-
ber a fanatic preacher, who was inclined to come
into the church and take orders: but, upon mature
thoughts, was diverted from that design, when he
considered, that the collections of the godly were
a much heartier and readier penny than he could
get by wrangling for tithes. He certainly had rea-
son; and the two cases are parallel. If you write
in defence of a fallen party you are maintained by
contribution, as a necessary person: you have little
more to do than to carp and cavil at those who hold
the pen on the other side; you are sure to be cele-
brated and caressed by all your party, to a man: you
may affirm and deny what you please without truth
or probability, since it is but loss of time to contra-
dict you. Besides, commiseration is often on your
side; and you have a pretence to be thought honest
and disinterested for adhering to friends in distress:
after which, if your friends ever happen to turn up
again, you have a strong fund of merit toward mak-
ing your fortune. Then, you never fail to be well
furnished with materials, every one bringing in his
quota, and falsehood being naturally more plentiful
than truth: not to mention the wonderful delight of
libelling men in power and hugging yourself in a
corner with mighty satisfaction for what you have
done.
It is quite otherwise with us, who engage as vo-
lunteers in the service of a flourishing ministry, in
full credit with the queen, and beloved by the peo-
ple; because they have no sinister ends or dangerous
designs, but pursue with steadiness and resolution
the true interest of both. Upon which account
they little want or desire our assistance; and we
may write till the world is weary of reading, without
having our pretences allowed, either to a place or a
pension: besides, we are refused the common bene-
fit of the party, to have our works cried up of
course; the readers of our own side being as ungen-
tle and hard to please as if we writ against them:
and our papers never make their way in the world,
but barely in proportion to their merit. The de-
sign of their labours who write on the conquered
side is likewise of greater importance than ours:
they are like cordials for dying men, which must be
repeated; whereas ours are, in the Scripture phrase,
but meat for babes: at least, all I can pretend is,
to undeceive the ignorant and those at a distance;
but their task is to keep up the sinking spirits of a
whole party.
After such reflections I cannot be angry with those
gentlemen for perpetually writing against me; it
furnishes them largely with topics, and is, besides,
their proper business; neither is it affectation or
altogether scorn, that I do not reply. But as things
are we both act suitably to our several provinces;
mine is, by laying open some corruptions in the late
management, to set those that are ignorant right in
their opinions of persons and things: it is theirs to
cover with fig-leaves all the faults of their friends,
as well as they can. When I have produced my
facts, and offered my arguments, I have nothing fur-
ther to advance; it is their office to deny and dis-
prove and then let the world decide. If I were as
THE EXAMINER.
321
they, my chief endeavour should certainly be to
batter down the Examiner; therefore I cannot but
approve their design. Besides, they have another
reason for barking incessantly at this paper: they
have in their prints openly taxed a most ingenious
person as author of it; one who is in great and very
deserved reputation with the world, both on account
of his poetical works and his talents for public busi-
ness. They were wise enough to consider what a
sanction it would give their performances to fall
under the animadversion of such a pen; and there-
fore used all the forms of provocation commonly
practised by little obscure pedants, who are fond of
distinguishing themselves by the fame of an adver-
sary. So nice a taste have these judicious critics in
pretending to discover an author by his style and
manner of thinking! not to mention the justice and
candour of exhausting all the stale topics of scur-
rility in reviling a paper, and then flinging, at a
venture, the whole load upon one who is entirely
innocent; and whose greatest fault, perhaps, is too
much gentleness toward a party from whose leaders.
he has received quite contrary treatment.
The concern I have for the ease and reputation of
so deserving a gentleman has at length forced me,
much against my interest and inclination, to let these
angry people know who is not the author of the
Examiner. For I observed the opinion began to
spread, and I chose rather to sacrifice the honour I
received by it than let injudicious people entitle
him to a performance that, perhaps, he might have
reason to be ashamed of; still faithfully promising
never to disturb those worthy advocates, but suffer
them in quiet to roar on at the Examiner, if they
or their party find any ease in it, as physicians say
there is to people in torment, such as men in the
gout, or women in labour.
However, I must acknowledge myself indebted
to them for one hint, which I shall now pursue,
although in a different manner. Since the fall of
the late ministry, I have seen many papers filled
with their encomiums, I conceive, in imitation of
those who write the lives of famous men, where,
after their deaths, immediately follow their charac-
ters. When I saw the poor virtues thus dealt at
random, I thought the disposers had flung their
names, like valentines, into a hat, to be drawn as
fortune pleased by the junto and their friends.
There Crassus drew liberty and gratitude; Fulvia,
humility and gentleness; Clodius, piety and justice;
Gracchus, loyalty to his prince; Cinna, love of his
country and constitution; and so of the rest. Or,
to quit this allegory, I have often seen, of late,
the whole set of discarded statesmen celebrated by
their judicious hirelings for those very qualities
which their admirers owned they chiefly wanted.
Did these heroes put off and lock up their virtues
when they came into employment; and have they
now resumed them since their dismissions? If they
wore them, I am sure it was under their greatness,
and without ever once convincing the world of their
visibility or influence.
But why should not the present ministry find a
pen to praise them, as well as the last? This is
what I shall now undertake; and it may be more
impartial in me, from whom they have deserved so
little. I have without being called served them half
a year in quality of champion; and, by help of the
queen, and a majority of nine in ten of the king-
dom, have been able to protect them against a routed
cabal of hated politicians, with a dozen of scribblers
at their head; yet so far have they been from re-
warding me suitably to my deserts, that to this day
they never so much as sent to the printer to inquire
VOL. I.
|
who I was, although
who I was, although I have known a time and mi-
nistry where a person of half my merit and con-
sideration would have had fifty promises, and in the
mean time a pension settled on him, whereof the
first quarter should be honestly paid. Therefore,
my resentments shall so far prevail, that in praising
those who are now at the head of affairs, I shall, at
the same time, take notice of their defects.
Was any man more eminent in his profession than
the present lord-keeper, or more distinguished by
his eloquence and great abilities in the house of
commons? and will not his enemies allow him to be
fully equal to the great station he now adorns? But
then it must be granted that he is wholly ignorant in
the speculative as well as practical part of polygamy;
he knows not how to metamorphose a sober man
into a lunatic; he is no freethinker in religion, nor
has courage to be patron of an atheistical book,
while he is guardian of the queen's conscience.
Although, after all, to speak my private opinion, I
cannot think these such mighty objections to his
character as some would pretend.
The person who now presides at the council b is
descended from a great and honourable father, not
from the dregs of the people; he was at the head of
the treasury for some years, and rather chose to
enrich his prince than himself. In the height of
favour and credit, he sacrificed the greatest employ-
ment in the kingdom to his conscience and honour;
he has been always firm in his loyalty and religion,
zealous for supporting the prerogative of the crown
and preserving the liberties of the people. But then
his best friends must own that he is neither Deist
nor Socinian; he has never conversed with Toland
to open and enlarge his thoughts, and dispel the
prejudices of education; nor was he ever able to
arrive at that perfection of gallantry, to ruin and
imprison the husband, in order to keep the wife
without disturbance.
The present lord-steward has been always dis-
tinguished for his wit and knowledge, is of consum-
mate wisdom and experience in affairs, has con-
tinued constant to the true interest of the nation,
which he espoused from the beginning, and is every
way qualified to support the dignity of his office;
but in point of oratory must give place to his pre-
decessor.
The duke of Shrewsbury d was highly instrumental
in bringing about the Revolution, in which service
he freely exposed his life and fortune. He has ever
been the favourite of the nation, being possessed of
all the amiable qualities that can accomplish a great
man; but in the agreeableness and fragrancy of his
person, and the profoundness of his politics, must
be allowed to fall very short of
Mr. Harleye had the honour of being chosen
speaker successively to three parliaments. He was
the first, of late years, who ventured to restore the
forgotten custom of treating his prince with duty
and respect; easy and disengaged in private con-
versation, with such a weight of affairs upon his
shoulders; of great learning, and as great a favourer
and protector of it; intrepid by nature as well as by
the consciousness of his own integrity; and a de-
spiser of money, pursuing the true interest of his
prince and country against all obstacles; sagacious
to view into the remotest consequences of things,
a Sir Simon (afterwards lord) Harcourt.
b Laurence Hyde, late earl of Rochester.
• John Shoffield, duke of Buckingham and Normanby, in the
room of the duke of Devonshire.
d Lord-chamberlain, in the room of Henry de Grey, earl,
marquis, and duke of Kent.
• Chancellor of the exchequer, upon the removal of lord
Godolphin.
Y
322
THE EXAMINER.
by which all difficulties fly before him; a firm friend,
and a placable enemy, sacrificing his justest resent-
ments not only to public good, but to common in-
tercession and acknowledgment. Yet, with all these
virtues, it must be granted there is some mixture of
human infirmity. His greatest admirers must confess
his skill at cards and dice to be very low and super-
ficial; in horse-racing he is utterly ignorant; then,
to save a few millions to the public, he never regards
how many worthy citizens he hinders from making
up their plumb. And surely there is one thing never
to be forgiven him, that he delights to have his table
filled with black coats, whom he uses as if they were
gentlemen.
My lord Dartmouth is a man of letters, full of
good sense, good nature, and honour; of strict virtue
and regularity in his life; but labours under one
great defect, that he treats his clerks with more
civility and good manners than others in his station
have done the queen.
Omitting some others, I shall close this character
of the present ministry with that of Mr. St. John,b
who, from his youth, applying those admirable talents
of nature and improvements of art to public busi-
ness, grew eminent in court and parliament at an
age when the generality of mankind is employed
in trifles and folly. It is to be lamented that he has
not yet procured himself a busy, important coun-
tenance, nor learned that profound part of wisdom,
to be difficult of access. Besides, he has clearly
mistaken the true use of books, which he has
thumbed and spoiled with reading, when he ought
to have multiplied them on his shelves: not like a
great man of my acquaintance, who knew a book
by the back better than a friend by the face, although
he had never conversed with the former, and often
with the latter.
No. 28.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1711.
Caput est in omni procuratione negotii et muneris publici, ut
avaritiæ pellatur etiam minima suspicio.
In every employment in every public office, it is of the utmost
importance to keep free from even the least suspicion of
avarice.
THERE is no vice which mankind carries to such
wild extremes as that of avarice. Those two which
seem to rival it in this point are lust and ambition;
but the former is checked by difficulties and diseases,
destroys itself by its own pursuits, and usually de-
clines with old age; and the latter, requiring courage,
conduct, and fortune in a high degree, and meeting
with a thousand dangers and oppositions, succeeds
too seldom in an age to fall under common obser-
vation. Or, avarice is perhaps the same passion
with ambition, only placed in more ignoble and das-
tardly minds, by which the object is changed from
power to money. Or it may be that one man pur-
sues power in order to wealth, and another wealth
in order to power, which last is the safer way,
although longer about; and suiting with every pe-
riod, as well as condition of life, is more generally
followed.
However it be, the extremes of this passion are
certainly more frequent than of any other; and often
to a degree so absurd and ridiculous, that if it were
not for their frequency, they could hardly obtain be-
lief. The stage, which carries other follies and vices
beyond nature and probability, falls very short in
the representations of avarice; nor are there any
extravagancies of this kind described by ancient or
• He succeeded the earl of Sunderland as secretary of state.
Secretary of state, in the room of Mr. Henry Boyle.
modern comedies, which are not outdone by a hun-
dred instances commonly told among ourselves.
I am ready to conclude hence, that a vice which
keeps so firm a hold upon human nature, and
governs it with so unlimited a tyranny, since it can-
not wholly be eradicated, ought at least to be con-
fined to particular objects; to thrift and penury, to
private fraud and extortion, and never suffered to
prey upon the public; and should certainly be re-
jected as the most unqualifying circumstance for any
employment where bribery and corruption can pos-
sibly enter.
If the mischiefs of this vice in a public station.
were confined to enriching only those particular per-
sons employed, the evil would be more supportable :
but it is usually quite otherwise. When a steward
defrauds his lord, he must connive at the rest of the
servants while they are following the same practice
in their several spheres: so that in some families
you may observe a subordination of knaves, in a
link downward to the very helper in the stables, all
cheating by concert, and with impunity. And even
if this were all, perhaps the master could bear it
without being undone; but it so happens that, for
every shilling the servant gets by iniquity, the master
loses twenty; the perquisites of servants being but
small compositions for suffering shopkeepers to
bring in what bills they please. It is exactly the
same thing in a state: an avaricious man in office is
in confederacy with the whole clan of his district or
dependence; which in modern terms of art is called
to live and let live; and yet their gains are the
smallest part of the public's loss. Give a guinea to
a knavish land-waiter, and he shall connive at the
A
merchant for cheating the queen of a hundred.
brewer gives a bribe to have the privilege of selling
drink to the navy: but the fraud is a hundred times
greater than the bribe, and the public is at the
whole loss.
Moralists make two kinds of avarice; that of
Catiline, alieni appetens, sui profusus; and the
other more generally understood by that name,
which is the endless desire of hoarding. But I take
the former to be more dangerous in a state, because
it mingles with ambition, which I think the latter
cannot; for, although the same breast may be capa-
ble of admitting both, it is not able to cultivate
them; and where the love of heaping wealth pre-
vails, there is not, in my opinion, much to be appre-
hended from ambition. The disgrace of that sordid
vice is sooner apt to spread than any other; and is
always attended with the hatred and scorn of the
people: so that whenever those two passions happen
to meet in the same subject, it is not unlikely that
Providence has placed avarice to be a check upon
ambition; and I have reason to think some great
ministers of state have been of my opinion.
The divine authority of holy writ, the precepts of
philosophers, the lashes and ridicule of satirical
poets, have been all employed in exploding this in-
satiable thirst of money; and all equally controlled
by the daily practice of mankind. Nothing new re-
mains to be said upon the occasion; and if there
did, I must remember my character, that I am an
Examiner only, and not a Reformer.
However, in those cases where the frailties of
particular men do nearly affect the public welfare,
such as a prime minister of state, or a great general
of an army, methinks there should be some expedi-
ent contrived to let them know impartially what is
the world's opinion in the point. Encompassed
with a crowd of depending flatterers, they are many
degrees blinder to their own faults than the common.
infirmities of human nature can plead in their ex-
THE EXAMINER.
323
cuse.
Advice dares not to be offered, or is wholly
lost, or returned with hatred: and whatever appears
in public against their prevailing vice goes for no-
thing: being either not applied, or passing only for
libel and slander, proceeding from the malice and
envy of party.
do the same in your camp; walk about in the even-
ing, hearken at every tent;
ing, hearken at every tent; and if you do not hear
every mouth censuring, lamenting, cursing this vice
in
you, and even you for this vice, conclude yourself
innocent. If you be not yet persuaded, send for
Atticus, Servius Sulpicius, Cato, or Brutus; they
are all your friends: conjure them to tell you inge-
I have sometimes thought that if I had lived at
Rome in the time of the first triumvirate, I shouldnuously which is your great fault, and which they
have been tempted to write a letter, as from an un-
known hand, to those three great men who had then
usurped the sovereign power; wherein I would
freely and sincerely tell each of them that fault
which I conceived was most odious, and of worst
consequence to the commonwealth. That to Crassus
should have been sent to him after his conquests in
Mesopotamia, and in the following terms:
"To Marcus Crassus, health.
"If you apply, as you ought, what I now write,
you will be more obliged to me than to all the
world, hardly excepting your parents or your coun-
try. I intend to tell you, without disguise or preju-
dice, the opinion which the world has entertained of
you; and to let you see I write this without any sort
of ill will, you shall first hear the sentiments they
have to your advantage. No man disputes the grace-
fulness of your person; you are allowed to have a
good and clear understanding, cultivated by the
knowledge of men and manners, although not by
literature; you are no ill orator in the senate; you
are said to excel in the art of bridling and subduing
your anger, and stifling or concealing your resent-
ments; you have been a most successful general, of
long experience, great conduct, and much personal
courage; you have gained many important victories
for the commonwealth, and forced the strongest
towns in Mesopotamia to surrender, for which fre-
quent supplications have been decreed by the senate.
Yet with all these qualities, and this merit, give me
leave to say, you are neither beloved by the patri-
cians nor plebeians at home, nor by the officers or
private soldiers of your own army abroad. And do
you know, Crassus, that this is owing to a fault of
which you may cure yourself by one minute's reflec-
tion? What shall I say? You are the richest person
in the commonwealth; you have no male child;
your daughters are all married to wealthy patricians;
you are far in the decline of life, and yet you are
deeply stained with that odious and ignoble vice of
covetousness. It is affirmed that you descend even
to the meanest and most scandalous degrees of it;
and while you possess so many millions, while you
are daily acquiring so many more, you are solicitous
how to save a single sesterce; of which a hundred
ignominious instances are produced, and in all men's
mouths. I will only mention that passage of the
buskins, which, after abundance of persuasion, you
would hardly suffer to be cut from your legs, when
they were so wet and cold, that to have kept them
on would have endangered your life.
"Instead of using the common arguments to dis-
suade you from this weakness, I will endeavour to
convince you that you are really guilty of it, and
leave the cure to your own good sense.
For per-
haps you are not yet persuaded that this is your
crime; you have probably never yet been reproached
for it to your face; and what you are now told comes
from one unknown, and it may be from an enemy.
You will allow yourself indeed to be prudent in the
management of your fortune; you are not a pro-
digal, like Clodius, or Catiline; but surely that de-
serves not the name of avarice. I will inform you
how to be convinced. Disguise your person, go
among the common people in Rome, introduce dis-
courses about yourself, inquire your own character;
would chiefly wish you to correct; if they do not
agree in their verdict, in the name of all the gods
you are acquitted.
"When your adversaries reflect how far you are
gone in this vice, they are tempted to talk as if we
owed our successes not to your courage or conduct,
but to those veteran troops you command, who are
able to conquer under any general, with so many
brave and experienced officers to lead them.
Besides, we know the consequences your avarice has
often occasioned. The soldier has been starving for
bread, surrounded with plenty, and in an enemy's
country; but all under safeguards and contribu-
tions, which, if you had sometimes pleased to have
exchanged for provisions, might, at the expense of a
few talents in a campaign, have so endeared you to
the army, that they would have desired you to lead
them to the utmost limits of Asia. But you rather
choose to confine your conquests within the fruitful
country of Mesopotamia, where plenty of money
might be raised. How far that fatal greediness
of gold may have influenced you in breaking off the
treaty with the old Parthian king Orodes, you best
can tell; your enemies charge you with it; your
friends offer nothing material in your defence; and
all agree there is nothing so pernicious which the
extremes of avarice may not be able to inspire.
"The moment you quit this vice you will be a truly
great man; and still there will imperfections enough
remain to convince us you are not a god. Fare-
well."
Perhaps a letter of this nature, sent to so reason-
able a man as Crassus, might have put him upon
examining into himself, and correcting that little
sordid appetite, so utterly inconsistent with all pre-
tences to heroism. A youth in the heat of blood
may plead, with some show of reason, that he is not
able to subdue his lusts. An ambitious man may
use the same arguments for his love of power; or
perhaps other arguments to justify it. But excess of
avarice has neither of these pleas to offer; it is not
to be justified, and cannot pretend temptation for
excuse. Whence can the temptation come? Reason
disclaims it altogether, and it cannot be said to lodge
in the blood or the animal spirits. So that I con-
clude no man of true valour and true understanding,
upon whom this vice has stolen unawares, when he
is convinced he is guilty will suffer it to remain in
his breast an hour.
No. 29.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1711.
Inultus ut tu riseris Cotyttia?
Shall you Cotytto's feasis deride,
Yet safely triumph in your pride?
[In answer to the Letter to the Examiner.]
London, Feb. 15, 1711.
SIR-Although I have wanted leisure to acknow-
ledge the honour of a letter you were pleased to
write to me about six months ago, yet I have been
very careful in obeying some of your commands,
and am going on as fast as I can with the rest. I
wish you had thought fit to have conveyed them to
me by a more private hand than that of the printing-
x 2
324
THE EXAMINER.
house; ; for, although I was pleased with a pattern of
was pleased with a pattern of |
style and spirit which I proposed to imitate, yet I
was sorry the world should be a witness how far I
fell short in both.
I am afraid you did not consider what an abund-
ance of work you have cut out for me; neither am I
at all comforted by the promise you are so kind to
make, that when I have performed my task, “D—n
shall blush in his grave among the dead, Walpole
among the living, and even Volpone shall feel some
remorse." How the gentleman in his grave may
have kept his countenance I cannot inform you,
having no acquaintance at all with the sexton; but
for the other two, I take leave to assure you there
have not yet appeared the least signs of blushing or
remorse in either, although some very good oppor-
tunities have offered, if they had thought fit to
accept them; so that, with your permission, I would
rather engage to continue this work until they be in
their graves too; which I am sure will happen
much sooner than the other.
You desire I would collect some of those indigni-
ties offered last year to her majesty. I am ready to
oblige you; and have got a pretty tolerable collec-
tion by me, which I am in doubt whether to publish
by itself in a large volume in folio, or scatter them
here and there occasionally in my papers; although,
indeed, I am sometimes thinking to stifle them
altogether; because such a history will be apt to
give foreigners a monstrous opinion of our country.
But since it is your absolute opinion that the world
should be informed, I will, with the first occasion,
pick out a few choice instances, and let them take
their chance in the ensuing papers. I have likewise
in my cabinet certain quires of paper filled with facts
of corruption, mismanagement, cowardice, treachery,
avarice, ambition, and the like; with an alphabetical
table to save trouble. And perhaps you will not
wonder at the care I take to be so well provided,
when you consider the vast expense I am at. I feed
weekly two or three wit-starved writers, who have
no visible support; besides several others who live
upon my offals.
offals. In short, I am like a nurse who
suckles twins at one time, and has besides one or
two whelps constantly to draw her breasts.
I must needs confess (and it is with grief I speak
it) that I have been the innocent cause of a great
circulation of dulness; at the same time, I have
often wondered how it has come to pass that these
industrious people, after poring so constantly upon
the Examiner, a paper writ with plain sense and in
a tolerable style, have made so little improvement.
I am sure it would have fallen out quite otherwise
with me; for, by what I have seen of their perform-
ances (and I am credibly informed they are all of
a piece), if I had perused them until now I should
have been fit for little but to make an advocate in
the same cause.
You, sir, perhaps will wonder, as most others do,
what end these angry folks propose in writing per-
petually against the Examiner: it is not to beget
a better opinion of the late ministry, or with
any hope to convince the world that I am in the
wrong in any one fact I relate; they know all that
to be lost labour, and yet their design is important
enough they would fain provoke me, by all sorts of
methods within the length of their capacity, to
answer their papers; which would render mine
wholly useless to the public; for, if it once came to
rejoinder and reply, we should be all upon a level;
and then their work would be done.
There is one gentleman,ª indeed, who has written
Dr. Hare, afterwards bishop of Chichester, chaplain to the
duke of Marlborough.
three small pamphlets upon the management of the
war, and the treaty of peace. These I had intended
to have bestowed a paper in examining; and could
easily have made it appear that whatever he says of
truth relates not at all to the evils we complain of,
or controls one syllable of what I have ever ad-
vanced. Nobody that I know of did ever dispute
the duke of Marlborough's courage, conduct, or suc-
cess; they have been always unquestionable, and
will continue to be so, in spite of the malice of his
enemies, or, which is yet more, the weakness of his
advocates. The nation only wishes to see him taken
out of ill hands, and put into better. But what is
all this to the conduct of the late ministry, the
shameful mismanagements in Spain, or the wrong
steps in the treaty of peace; the secret of which will
not bear the light, and is consequently by this author
very poorly defended? These, and many other
things, I would have shown; but, upon second
thoughts, determined to have it done in a discourse
by itself, rather than take up room here, and break
into the design of this paper, whence I have resolved
to banish controversy as much as possible. But the
postscript to his third pamphlet was enough to dis-
gust me from having any dealings at all with such a
writer; unless that part was left to some footman
he has picked up among the boys who follow the
camp, whose character it would suit much better
than that of the supposed author: at least, the foul
language, the idle, impotent menaces, and the gross
perverting of an innocent expression in the fourth
Examiner, joined to that respect I shall ever have
for the function of a divine, would incline me to
believe so. But, when he turns off his footman and
disclaims that postscript, I will tear it out and see
how far the rest deserves to be considered.
But, sir, I labour under a much greater difficulty,
upon which I should be glad to hear your advice. I
am worried on one side by the Whigs for being too
severe, and by the Tories on the other for being too
gentle. I have formerly hinted a complaint of this,
but having lately received two peculiar letters,
among many others, I thought nothing could better
represent my condition, or the opinion which the
warm men of both sides have of my conduct, than to
send you a transcript of each. The former is ex-
actly in these words:
"To the Examiner.
"MR. EXAMINER,-By your continual reflecting
upon the conduct of the late ministry, and by your
encomiums on the present, it is as clear as the sun
at noon-day that you are a jesuit, or nonjuror, em-
ployed by the friends of the pretender to endeavour
to introduce popery, and slavery, and arbitrary
power, and to infringe the sacred act for toleration
of dissenters. Now, sir, since the most ingenious
authors, who write weekly against you, are not able
to teach you better manners, I would have you to
know that those great and excellent men, as low as
you think them at present, do not want friends that
will take the first proper occasion to cut your throat,
as all such enemies to moderation ought to be served.
It is well you have cleared another person from
being author of your cursed libels; although, d-n
me, perhaps after all that may be a bamboozle too.
However, I hope we shall soon ferret you out.
Therefore I advise you as a friend to let fall your
pen, and retire by times; for our patience is now at
an end. It is enough to lose our power and em-
ployments without setting the whole nation against
Consider, three years is the life of a party;
d-n me, every dog has his day, and it will be our
turn next; therefore take warning, and learn to
118.
THE EXAMINER.
325
sleep in a whole skin; or, whenever we are upper-
most, by G-d you shall find no mercy."
The other letter was in the following terms:
"To the Examiner.
"SIR, I am a country member, and constantly send
a dozen of your papers down to my electors. I have
read them all, but, I confess, not with the satisfaction.
I expected. It is plain you know a great deal more
than you write; why will you not let us have it all
out? We are told that the queen has been a long
time treated with insolence by those she has most
obliged. Pray, sir, let us have a few good stories
upon that head. We have been cheated of several
millions; why will you not set a mark on the knaves
who are guilty, and show us what ways they took to
rob the public at such a rate? inform us how we
came to be disappointed of peace about two years
ago. In short, turn the whole mystery of iniquity
inside out, that everybody may have a view of it.
But, above all, explain to us what was the bottom of
that same impeachment; I am sure I never liked it;
for at that very time a dissenting preacher in our
neighbourhood came often to see our parson; it
could be for no good, for he would walk about the
barns and the stables, and desired to look into the
church, as who should say, These will shortly be
mine: and we all believed he was then contriving
some alterations, against he got into possession. And
I shall never forget that a Whig justice offered me
then very high for my bishop's lease. I must be so
bold to tell you, sir, that you are too favourable; I
am sure there was no living in quiet for us, while
they were in the saddle. I was turned out of the
commission, and called a Jacobite, although it cost
me a thousand pounds in joining with the prince of
Orange at the Revolution. The discoveries I would
have you make are of some facts for which they
ought to be hanged; not that I value their heads,
but I would see them exposed, which may be done
upon the owner's shoulders as well as upon a pole,"
&c.
These, sir, are the sentiments of a whole party on
one side, and of considerable numbers on the other:
however, taking the medium between these extremes,
I think to go on as I have hitherto done, although I
am sensible my paper would be more popular if I
did not lean too much on the favourable side. For
nothing delights the people more than to see their
oppressors humbled, and all their actions painted
with proper colours, set out in open view; exactos
tyrannos densum humeris bibit aure vulgus.
tions that might tend toward making them refund;
like those women they call shoplifters, who, when
they are challenged for their thefts, appear to be
mighty angry and affronted, for fear of being
searched.
I will dismiss you, sir, when I have taken notice
of one particular. Perhaps you may have observed
in the tolerated factious papers of the week, that the
earl of Rochester is frequently reflected on for
having been ecclesiastical commissioner and lord-
The
treasurer in the reign of the late king James.
fact is true; and it will not be denied, to his im-
mortal honour, that, because he could not comply
with the measures then taking, he resigned both
those employments; of which the latter was imme-
diately supplied by a commission composed of two
popish lords, and the present earl of Godolphin.
No. 30.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 1711.
Laus summa in fortunæ bonis, non extulisse se in potestate, non
fuisse insolentem in pecunia, non se prætulisse aliis propter
abundantiam fortunæ.
In the goods of fortune it is the highest commendation to say
that he was not elated in power, insolent in riches, or con-
temptuous amid the overflowing of fortune.
I AM conscious to myself that I write this paper with
no other intention but of doing good. I never re-
ceived injury from the late ministry, nor advantage
from the present, further than in common with
every good subject. There were among the former
one or two who must be allowed to have possessed
very valuable qualities; but proceeding by a system
of politics which our constitution could not suffer,
and discovering a contempt of all religion, especially
of that which has been so happily established among
us ever since the Reformation, they seem to have
been justly suspected of no very good inclinations to
either.
It is possible that a man may speculatively prefer
the constitution of another country, or a Utopia of
his own, before that of the nation where he is born
and lives; yet, from considering the dangers of in-
novation, the corruptions of mankind, and the fre-
quent impossibility of reducing ideas to practice, he
may join heartily in preserving the present order of
things and be a true friend to the government already
settled. So in religion, a man may perhaps have
little or none of it at heart; yet if he conceals his
opinions, if he endeavours to make no proselytes,
advances no impious tenets in writing or discourse;
if according to the common atheistical notion he
believes religion to be only a contrivance of politi-
cians for keeping the vulgar in awe, and that the
present model is better adjusted than any other to so
useful an end; although the condition of such a
man as to his own future state be very deplorable,
yet Providence, which often works good out of evil,
can make even such a man an instrument for contri-
buting toward the preservation of the church.
But as for the Whigs, I am in some doubt whether
this mighty concern they show for the honour of the
late ministry may not be affected; at least whether
their masters will thank them for their zeal in such
a cause. It is, I think, a known story of a gentle-
man, who fought another for calling him a son of a
whore, that the lady desired her son to make no
more quarrels upon that subject, because it was true.
For
pray, sir, does it not look like a jest, that such a On the other side, I take a state to be truly in
pernicious crew, after draining our wealth, and dis- danger, both as to its religion and government, when
covering the most destructive designs against our a set of ambitious politicians, bred up in hatred
church and state, instead of thanking fortune that to the constitution and a contempt for all religion,
they are got off safe in their persons and plunder, are forced upon exerting these qualities, in order
should hire these bullies of the pen to defend their to keep or increase their power, by widening
reputations? I remember I thought it the hardest their bottom and taking in (like Mahomet) some
case in the world, when a poor acquaintance of mine, principles from every party that is in any way dis-
having fallen in among sharpers, where he lost all his contented at the present faith and settlement; which
money, and then, complaining he was cheated, got a was manifestly our case. Upon this occasion I re-
good beating into the bargain, for offering to affront member to have asked some considerable Whigs
gentlemen. I believe the only reason why these whether it did not bring a disreputation upon their
purloiners of the public cause such a clutter to be body to have the whole herd of presbyterians, inde-
made about their reputations is, to prevent inquisi-pendents, atheists, anabaptists, deists, quakers, and
326
THE EXAMINER.
socinians, openly and universally listed under their
banners? They answered that all this was absolutely
necessary in order to make a balance against the
Tories; and all little enough: for indeed it was as
much as they could possibly do, although assisted
with the absolute power of disposing of every em-
ployment, while the bulk of the English gentry
kept firm to their old principles in church and state.
I
But notwithstanding what I have hitherto said, I
am informed several among the Whigs continue still
so refractory, that they will hardly allow the heads
of their party to have entertained any designs of
ruining the constitution; or that they would have
endeavoured it if they had continued in power.
beg their pardon if I have discovered a secret; but
who could imagine they ever intended it should be
one, after those overt acts with which they thought
fit to conclude their farce? But perhaps they now find
it convenient to deny vigorously; that the question
may remain, why was the old ministry changed,
which they urge on without ceasing, as if no occasion
in the least had been given, but that all were owing
to the insinuations of crafty men practising upon the
weakness of an easy prince: I shall therefore offer,
among an hundred, one reason for this change, which
I think would justify any monarch who ever reigned
for the like proceeding.
It is notorious enough how highly princes have
been blamed in the histories of all countries, parti-
cularly of our own, upon the account of their minions;
who have been ever justly odious to the people for
their insolence and avarice, and engrossing the favours
of their masters. Whoever has been the least con-
versant in the English story cannot but have heard
of Gaveston, the Spencers, and the earl of Oxford;
who by the excess and abuse of their power cost the
princes they served, or rather governed, their crowns
and lives. However, in the case of minions it must
at least be acknowledged that the prince is pleased
and happy, although his subjects be aggrieved; and
he has the plea of friendship to excuse him, which
is a disposition of generous minds. Besides, a wise
minion, although he be haughty to others, is humble
and insinuating to his master, and cultivates his favour
by obedience and respect. But our misfortune has
been a great deal worse; we have suffered for some
under the oppression, the avarice, and insolence
years
of those for whom the queen had neither esteem nor
friendship; who rather seemed to snatch their own
dues than receive the favour of their sovereign; and
were so far from returning respect, that they forgot
common good manners. They imposed on their
prince by urging the necessity of affairs of their own
creating they first raised difficulties, and then offered
them as arguments to keep themselves in power.
They united themselves, against nature and principle,
to a party they had always abhorred, and which was
now content to come in upon any terms, leaving
them and their creatures in full possession of the
court then they urged the formidable strength of
that party, and the dangers which must follow by
disobliging it. So that it seems almost a miracle
how a princess thus besieged on all sides could alone
have courage and prudence enough to extricate
herself.
And, indeed, there is a point of history relating to
this matter which well deserves to be considered.
When her majesty came to the crown she took into
favour and employment several persons who were
esteemed the best friends of the old constitution ;
among whom none were reckoned further gone in
the high church principles (as they are usually called)
than two or three who had at that time most credit,
and ever since. until within these few months, pos-
|
sessed all power at court. So that the first umbrage
given to the Whigs, and the pretences for clamour-
ing against France and the pretender, were derived
from them. And I believe nothing appeared then
more unlikely than that such different opinions
should ever incorporate; that party having, upon
former occasions, treated those very persons with
enmity enough. But some lords then about court,
and in the queen's good graces, not able to endure
those growing impositions upon the prince and
people, presumed to interpose, and were, conse-
quently, soon removed and disgraced. However,
when a most exorbitant grant was proposed, ante-
cedent to any visible merit, it miscarried in par-
liament for want of being seconded by those who
had most credit in the house; and who, having
always opposed the like excesses in a former reign,
thought it their duty to do so still, to show to the
world that the dislike was not against persons, but
things. But this was to cross the oligarchy in the
tenderest point; a point which outweighed all con-
siderations of duty and gratitude to their prince or
regard to the constitution; and therefore, after
having in several private meetings concerted mea-
sures with their old enemies, and granted as well as
received conditions, they began to change their style
and their countenance, and to put it as a maxim
in the mouths of their emissaries, that England must
be saved by Whigs. This unnatural league was
afterward cultivated by another incident, I mean the
act of security, and the consequences of it, which
everybody knows; when (to use the words of my
correspondenta) the sovereign authority was par-
celled out among the faction, and made the purchase
of indemnity for an offending minister. Thus the
union of the two kingdoms improved that between
the ministry and the junto, which was afterward
cemented by their mutual danger in that storm they
so narrowly escaped about three years ago, but,
however, was not quite perfected till prince George's
death; and then they went lovingly on together,
both satisfied with their several shares, and at full
liberty to gratify their predominant inclinations;
the first, their avarice and ambition; the other,
their models of innovation in church and state.
may
Therefore, whoever thinks fit to revive that baffled
question, why was the late ministry changed
receive the following answer, that it was become.
necessary by the insolence and avarice of some
about the queen, who, in order to perpetuate their
tyranny, had made a monstrous alliance with those
who profess principles destructive to our religion.
and government. If this will not suffice, let him
make an abstract of all the abuses I have mentioned
in
my former papers, and view them together; after
which, if he still remain unsatisfied, let him suspend
his opinion a few weeks longer. Although, after
all, I think the question as trifling as that of the
papists, when they ask us, where was our religion
before Luther? And, indeed, the ministry was
changed for the same reasons that religion was re-
formed; because a thousand corruptions had crept
into the discipline and doctrine of the state by the
pride, the avarice, the fraud, and the ambition of
those who administered to us in secular affairs.
I heard myself censured the other day in a coffee-
house for seeming to glance in the letter to Crassus
against a great man who is still in employment,
and likely to continue so. What if I had really in-
tended that such an application should be given it?
I cannot perceive how I could be justly blamed for
so gentle a reproof. If I saw a handsome young
"Letter to the Examiner.
Prince George of Denmark favoured the Tories.
THE EXAMINER.
327
fellow going to a ball at court with a great smut
unon his face, could he take it ill in me to point
out the place, and desire him, with abundance of
good words, to pull out his handkerchief and wipe
it off, or bring him to a glass, where he might
plainly see it with his own eyes? Does any man
think I shall suffer my pen to inveigh against vices,
only because they are charged upon persons who
are no longer in power? Everybody knows that
certain vices are more or less pernicious according
to the stations of those who possess them. For ex-
ample, lewdness and intemperance are not of so bad
consequences in a town-rake as in a divine; cowardice
in a lawyer is more supportable than in an officer of
the army.
If I should find fault with an admiral
because he wanted politeness, or an alderman for
not understanding Greek, that indeed would be to
go out of the way for occasion of quarrelling. But
excessive avarice in a general is, I think, the greatest
defect he can be liable to next to the want of courage
and conduct, and may be attended with the most
ruinous consequences, as it was in Crassus, who to
that vice alone owed the destruction of himself and
his army.
It is the same thing in praising men's
excellencies which are more or less valuable, as the
person you commend has occasion to employ them.
A man may perhaps mean honestly; yet, if he be
not able to spell, he shall never have my vote to be
a secretary. Another may have wit and learning,
in a post where honesty with plain common sense
are of much more use. You may praise a soldier
for his skill at chess, because it is said to be a mili-
tary game, and the emblem of drawing up an army;
but this to a treasurer would be no more a com-
pliment than if you called him a gamester or a
jockey.
1
P.S. I have received a letter relating to Mr.
Greenshields; the person that sent it may know
that I will say something to it in the next paper.
No. 31.
THURSDAY, MARCH 1, 1711.
Quæ enim domus tam stabilis, quæ tam firma civitas est, quæ
non odiis atque dissidiis funditùs possit everti ?
What family so established, what society so firmly united, that
it cannot be broken and dissolved by intestine quarrels and
divisions?
If we examine what societies of men are in closest
union
among themselves, we shall find them either
to be those who are engaged in some evil design, or
who labour under one common misfortune. Thus
the troops of banditti in several countries abroad, the
kuots of highwaymen in our own nation, the several
tribes of sharpers, thieves, and pickpockets, with
many others, are so firmly knit together, that no-
thing is more difficult than to break or dissolve their
several gangs; so likewise those who are fellow-
sufferers under any misfortune, whether it be in
reality or opinion, are usually contracted into a very
strict union; as we may observe in the papists
throughout the kingdom, under those real dif-
ficulties which are justly put on them; and in the
several schisms of presbyterians and other sects
under that grievous persecution of the modern kind
called want of power. And the reason why such
confederacies are kept so sacred and inviolable is
very plain; because in each of those cases I have
mentioned the whole body is moved by one spirit
in pursuit of one general end, and the interest of
individuals is not crossed by each other, or by the
whole.
Now both these motives are joined to unite the
high-flying Whigs at present: they have been always
|
engaged in an evil design, and of late they are faster
riveted by that terrible calamity, the loss of power.
So that, whatever designs a mischievous crew of dark
confederates may possibly entertain, who will stop
at no means to compass them, may be justly appre-
hended from these.
On the other side, those who wish well to the
public, and would gladly contribute to its service,
are apt to differ in their opinions about the methods
of promoting it; and when their party flourishes are
sometimes envious at those in power; ready to over-
value their own merit, and be impatient until it be
rewarded by the measure they have prescribed for
themselves. There is a further topic of contention,
which a ruling party is apt to fall into in relation to
retrospections and inquiry into past miscarriages;
wherein some are thought too warm and zealous,
others too cool and remiss; while, in the mean time,
these divisions are industriousiy fomented by the
discarded faction, which, although it be an old prac-
tice, has been much improved in the schools of the
jesuits, who, when they despaired of perverting this
nation to popery by arguments or plots against the
state, sent their emissaries to subdivide us into
schisms. And this expedient is now, with great
propriety, taken up by our men of incensed mode-
ration, because they suppose themselves able to
attack the strongest of our subdivisions, and to
subdue us one after another. Nothing better re-
sembles this proceeding than that famous combat
between the Horatii and Curiatii, where, two of the
former being killed, the third, who remained entire
and untouched, was able to kill his three wounded
adversaries, after he had divided them by a stra-
tagem. I well know with how tender a hand all
this should be touched; yet, at the same time, I
think it my duty to warn the friends as well as ex-
pose the enemies of the public weal, and to begin
preaching up union upon the first suspicion that
any steps are made to disturb it.
But the two chief subjects of discontent, which,
upon most great changes in the management of
public affairs, are apt to breed differences among
those who are in possession, are what I have just
now mentioned; a desire of punishing the corrup-
tion of former managers, and rewarding merit among
those who have been any way instrumental or cou-
senting to the change. The first of these is a point.
so nice that I shall purposely wave it; but the latter
I take to fall properly within my district. By merit
I here understand that value which every man puts
upon his own deservings from the public. And I
believe there could not be a more difficult employ-
ment found out than that of paymaster-general to
this sort of merit; or a more noisy crowded place
than a court of judicature erected to settle and ad-
just every man's claim upon that article. I imagine,
if this had fallen into the fancy of the ancient poets,
they would have dressed it up after their manner
into an agreeable fiction, and given us a genealogy
and description of merit, perhaps not very different
from that which follows.
A poctical Genealogy and Description of MERIT.
"THAT true Merit was the son of Virtue and Ho-
nour; but that there was likewise a spurious child,
who usurped the name, and whose parents were
Vanity and Impudence. That at a distance there
was a great resemblance between them, and they were
often mistaken for each other. That the bastard
issue had a loud shrill voice, which was perpetually
employed in cravings and complaints; while the
other never spoke louder than a whisper, and was
often so bashful that he could not speak at all. That
328
THE EXAMINER.
in all great assemblies the false Merit would step |
before the true, and stand just in his way; was con-
stantly at court, or great men's levees, or whispering
in some minister's ear. That the more you fed
him the more hungry and importunate he grew.
That he often passed for the true son of Virtue and
Honour, and the genuine for an impostor. That he
was born distorted and a dwarf, but by force of art
appeared of handsome shape, and taller than the
usual size; and that none but those who were wise
and good, as well as vigilant, could discover his
littleness or deformity. That the true Merit had been
often forced to the indignity of applying to the false
for his credit with those in power, and to keep him-
self from starving. That false Merit filled the ante-
chambers with a crew of his dependants and crea-
tures, such as projectors, schematists, occasional
converts to a party, prostitute flatterers, starveling
writers, buffoons, shallow politicians, empty orators,
and the like; who all owned him for their patron,
and he grew discontented if they were not immedi-
ately fed."
:
This metaphorical description of false Merit is, I
doubt, calculated for most countries in Christendom
as to our own, I believe it may be said, with a suffi-
cient reserve of charity, that we are fully able to re-
ward every man among us according to his real de-
servings; and I think I may add, without suspicion
may add, without suspicion
of flattery, that never any prince had a ministry with
a better judgment to distinguish between false and
real merit than that which is now at the helm; or
whose inclination, as well as interest, was greater to
encourage the latter. And it ought to be observed,
that those great and excellent persons we see at the
head of affairs are of the queen's own personal, vo-
luntary choice; not forced upon her by any insolent
overgrown favourite, or by the pretended necessity
of complying with an unruly faction.
Yet these are the persons whom those scandals to
the press, in their daily pamphlets and papers, open-
ly revile at so ignominious a rate as I believe was
never tolerated before under any government. For
surely no lawful power derived from a prince should
be so far affronted as to leave those who are in au-
thority exposed to every scurrilous libeller: because
in this point I make a mighty difference between
those who are in and those who are out of power;
not upon any regard to their persons, but the sta-
tions they are placed in by the sovereign. And if
my distinction be right I think I might appeal to
any man whether, if a stranger were to read the in-
vectives which are daily published against the pre-
sent ministry, and the outrageous fury of the au-
thors against me for censuring the last, he would not
conclude the Whigs to be at this time in full pos-
session of power and favour, and the Tories entirely
at their mercy. But all this now ceases to be a
wonder, since the queen herself is no longer spared;
witness the libel published some days ago, under the
title of "A Letter to Sir Jacob Banks," where the
reflections upon her sacred majesty are much more
plain and direct than ever the Examiner thought fit
to publish against the most obnoxious persons in a
ministry discarded for endeavouring the ruin of their
prince and country. Cæsar, indeed, threatened to
hang the pirates for presuming to disturb him, while
he was their prisoner aboard their ship: but it was
Cæsar who did so, and he did it to a crew of public
robbers; and it became the greatness of his spirit,
for he lived to execute what he had threatened. Had
they been in his power and sent such a message, it
could be imputed to nothing but the extremes of im-
pudence, folly, or madness.
I had a letter last week relating to Mr. Green-
shields, an episcopal clergyman of Scotland: and
the writer seems to be a gentleman of that part of
Britain. I remember formerly to have read a print-
ed account of Mr. Greenshields' case, who has been
prosecuted and silenced, for no other reason beside
reading divine service after the manner of the church
of England to his own congregation, who desired it;
though, as the gentleman who writes to me says,
there is no law in Scotland against those meetings;
and he adds that the sentence pronounced against
Mr. Greenshields will soon be affirmed, if some care
be not taken to prevent it. I am altogether unin-
formed in the particulars of this case, and, besides,
to treat it justly would not come within the compass
of my paper; therefore I could wish the gentleman
would undertake it in a discourse by itself; and I
should be glad he would inform the public in one
fact, whether episcopal assemblies are freely allowed
in Scotland? It is notorious that abundance of
their clergy fled from thence some years ago into
England and Ireland, as from a persecution; but it
was alleged by their enemies that they refused to
take the oaths to the government, which, however,
none of them scrupled when they came among us.
It is somewhat extraordinary to see our Whigs and
fanatics keep such a stir about the sacred act of
toleration, while their brethren will not allow a
connivance in so near a neighbourhood; especially
if what the gentleman insists on in his letter be true,
that nine parts in ten of the nobility and gentry, and
two in three of the commons, are episcopal; of
which, one argument he offers is, the present choice
of their representatives in both houses, though op-
posed to the utmost by the preachings, threatenings,
and anathemas of the kirk. Such usage to a ma-
jority may, as he thinks, be of dangerous conse-
quence; and I entirely agree with him. If these
be the principles of the high kirk, God preserve at
least the southern parts from their tyranny!
No. 32.
THURSDAY, MARCH 8, 1711.
Garrit aniles
Ex re fabellas.
Never fails
To cheer our converse with his pithy tales.
I HAD last week sent me, by an unknown hand, a
passage out of Plato, with some hints how to apply
it.
That author puts a fable into the mouth of
Aristophanes, with an account of the original of
love; that mankind was at first created with four
arms and legs, and all other parts double to what
they are now; till Jupiter, as a punishment for
his sins, cleft him in two with a thunderbolt; since
which time we are always looking out for our other
half; and this is the cause of love. But Jupiter
threatened, that if they did not mend their manners
he would give them t'other slit, and leave them to
hop about in the shape of figures in basso relievo.
The effect of this last threatening, my correspondent
imagines, is now come to pass; and that, as the first
splitting was the original of love, by inclining us to
search for our other half; so the second was the
cause of hatred, by prompting us to fly from our
other side, and, dividing the same body into two,
gave each slice the name of a party.
I approve the fable and application, with this re-
finement upon it: for parties do not only split a
nation but every individual among them, leaving
each but half their strength and wit, and honesty,
and good nature; but one eye and ear for their
sight and hearing, and equally lopping the rest of
the senses. Where parties are pretty equal in a
THE EXAMINER.
329
state no man can perceive one bad quality in his
own, or good one in his adversaries. Besides, party
being a dry, disagreeable subject, it renders conversa-
tion insipid or sour, and confines invention. I
speak not here of the leaders, but the insignificant
crowd of followers in a party, who have been the
instruments of mixing it in every condition and cir-
cumstance of life. As the zealots among the Jews
bound the law about their forehead, and wrists, and
hems of their garments, so the women among us
have got the distinguishing marks of party in their
muffs, their fans, and their furbelows. The Whig
ladies put on their patches in a different manner
from the Tories. They have made schisms in the
playhouse, and each have their particular sides at
the opera; and when a man changes his party he
must infallibly count upon the loss of his mistress.
I asked a gentleman the other day how he liked
such a lady; but he would not give me his opinion
till I had answered him whether she were a Whig
or a Tory. Mr. Prior, since he is known to visit
the present ministry, and lay some time under a sus-
picion of writing the Examiner, is no longer a man
of wit; his very poems have contracted a stupidity
many years after they were printed.
Having lately ventured upon a metaphorical ge-
nealogy of Merit, I thought it would be proper to
add another of Party, or rather of Faction (to avoid
mistake), not telling the reader whether it be my
own or a quotation, till I know how it is approved.
But whether I read or dreamt it, the fable is as fol-
lows:-
"Liberty, the daughter of Oppression, after hav-
ing brought forth several fair children, as Riches,
Arts, Learning, Trade, and many others, was at last
delivered of her youngest daughter, called Faction;
whom Juno, doing the office of the midwife, dis-
torted in her birth, out of envy to the mother,
whence it derived its peevishness and sickly consti-
tution. However, as it is often the nature of parents
to grow most fond of their youngest and disagree-
ablest children, so it happened with Liberty; who
doted on this daughter to such a degree that by
her good will she would never suffer the girl to be
out of her sight. As Miss Faction grew up she be-
came so termagant and froward, that there was no
enduring her any longer in heaven. Jupiter gave
her warning to be gone; and her mother, rather
than forsake her, took the whole family down to
earth. She landed first in Greece; was expelled by
degrees through all the cities by her daughter's ill
conduct; fled afterward to Italy, and, being banish-
ed thence, took shelter among the Goths, with whom
she passed into most parts of Europe; but, being
driven out everywhere, she began to lose esteem,
and her daughter's faults were imputed to herself;
so that, at this time, she has hardly a place in the
world to retire to. One would wonder what strange
qualities this daughter must possess sufficient to
blast the influence of so divine a mother and the
rest of her children. She always affected to keep
mean and scandalous company; valuing nobody but
just as they agreed with her in every capricious opi-
nion she thought fit to take up; and rigorously ex-
acting compliance, though she changed her senti-
ments ever so often. Her great employment was,
to breed discord among friends and relations, and
make up monstrous alliances between those whose
dispositions least resembled each other. Whoever
offered to contradict her, though in the most insig-
nificant trifle, she would be sure to distinguish by
some ignominious appellation, and allow them to
have neither honour, wit, beauty, learning, honesty,
or common sense. She intruded into all companies
at the most unseasonable times; mixed at balls, as-
semblies, and other parties of pleasure; haunted
every coffeehouse and bookseller's shop; and by her
perpetual talking filled all places with disturbance
and confusion: she buzzed about the merchant in
the Exchange, the divine in his pulpit, and the
shopkeeper behind his counter. Above all, she fre-
quented public assemblies, where she sat in the
shape of an obscene, ominous bird, ready to prompt.
her friends as they spoke."
If I understand this fable of Faction right, it ought
to be applied to those who set themselves up against
the true interest and constitution of their country,
which I wish the undertakers for the late ministry
would please to take notice of, or tell us by what
figure of speech they pretend to call so great and un-
forced a majority, with the queen at their head, by the
name of the Faction, which is not unlike the phrase
of the Nonjurors, who,
of the Nonjurors, who, dignifying one or two de-
prived bishops, and half a score clergymen of the
same stamp, with the title of the Church of England,
exclude all the rest as schismatics; or like the pres-
byterians, laying the same accusation, with equal
justice, against the established religion.
And here it may be worth inquiring what are the
true characteristics of a faction, or how it is to be
distinguished from that great body of the people who
are friends to the constitution? The heads of a fac-
tion are usually a set of upstarts, or men ruined in
their fortunes, whom some great change in a govern-
ment did at first, out of their obscurity, produce upon
the stage. They associate themselves with those
who dislike the old establishment, religious and
civil. They are full of new schemes in politics and
divinity; they have an incurable hatred against the
old nobility, and strengthen their party by dependants
raised from the lowest of the people. They have
several ways of working themselves into power; but
they are sure to be called when a corrupt adminis-
tration wants to be supported against those who are
endeavouring at a reformation; and they firmly ob-
serve that celebrated maxim of preserving power by
the same arts by which it is attained. They act with
the spirit of those who believe their time is but
short; and their first care is to heap up immense
riches at the public expense, in which they have two
ends beside that common one of insatiable avarice,
which are, to make themselves necessary, and to
keep the commonwealth in dependence. Thus they
hope to compass their design, which is, instead of
fitting their principles to the constitution, to alter
and adjust the constitution to their own pernicious
principles.
It is easy determining by this test to which side
the name of faction most properly belongs. But,
however, I will give them any system of law or regal
government, from William the Conqueror to this
present time, to try whether they can tally it with
their late models; excepting only that of Cromwell,
whom, perhaps, they will reckon for a monarch.
If the present ministry, and so great a majority in
the parliament and kingdom, be only a faction, it
must appear by some actions which answer the idea
we usually conceive from that word. Have they
abused the prerogatives of the prince, or invaded the
rights and liberties of the subject? Have they of-
fered at any dangerous innovations in church or
state? Have they broached any doctrines of heresy,
rebellion, or tyranny? Have any of them treated
their sovereign with insolence, engrossed and sold all
her favours, or deceived her by base, gross misrepre-
sentations of her most faithful servants? These are
the arts of a faction, and whoever has practised them,
they and their followers must take up with the name.
330
THE EXAMINER.
It is usually reckoned a Whig principle to appeal
to the people; but that is only when they have been
so wise as to poison their understandings beforehand.
Will they now stand to this appeal, and be deter-
mined by their vox populi to which side their title
of faction belongs? And that the people are now
left to the natural freedom of their understanding
and choice I believe their adversaries will hardly
deny. They will now refuse this appeal, and it is
reasonable they should; and I will further add, that,
if our people resembled the old Grecians, there
might be danger in such a trial. A pragmatical
orator told a great man at Athens, that whenever
the people were in their rage they would certainly
tear him to pieces: Yes, says the other, and they
will do the same to you whenever they are in their
wits. But, God be thanked, our populace is more
merciful in their nature, and at present under better
direction; and the orators among us have attempted
to confound both prerogative and law in their sove-
reign's presence, and before the highest court of
judicature, without any hazard to their persons.
No. 33.
THURSDAY, MARCH 15, 1711.
Nou est ea medicina, cum sanæ parti corporis scalpellum adhi-
betur, atque integræ; carnificina est ista, et crudelitas. Hi
medentur reipublicæ, qui exsecant pestem aliquam, tanquam
strumam civitatis.
To apply the knife to a sound and healthy part of the body is
butchery and cruelty, not real surgery.
Those are the true
physicians and surgeons of a state who cut off the pests of
society, like wens from the human body.
I AM diverted from the general subject of my dis-
courses, to reflect upon an event of a very extraor-
dinary and surprising nature. A great minister, in
high confidence with the queen, under whose ma-
nagement the weight of affairs at present is in a great
measure supposed to lie, sitting in council, in a
royal palace, with a dozen of the chief officers of the
state, is stabbed at the very board in the execution
of his office by the hand of a French papist, then
under examination for high treason; the assassin
redoubles his blow to make sure work, and, con-
cluding the chancellora was despatched, goes on
with the same rage to murder a principal secretary
of state; and that whole noble assembly are forced to
rise and draw their swords in their own defence, as
if a wild beast had been let loose among them.
This fact has some circumstances of aggravation
not to be paralleled by any of the like kind we meet
with in history. Cæsar's murder, being performed
in the senate, comes nearest to the case; but that
was an affair concerted by great numbers of the
chief senators, who were likewise the actors in it,
and not the work of a vile single ruffian. Harry the
Third of France was stabbed by an enthusiastic
friar, whom he suffered to approach his person while
those who attended him stood at some distance.
His successor met the same fate in a coach, where
neither he nor his nobles, in such a confinement,
were able to defend themselves. In our own country
we have, I think, but one instance of this sort which
has made any noise; I mean that of Felton about
fourscore years ago, but he took the opportunity to
stab the duke of Buckingham in passing through a
dark lobby from one room to another. The blow
was neither seen nor heard, and the murderer might
have escaped if his own concern and horror, as it
is usual in such cases, had not betrayed him. Be-
Mr. Hariey, then chancellor of the exchequer, afterward
earl of Oxford.
Mr. Henry St. John, afterward lord Bolingbroke.
sides, that act of Felton will admit of some extenu-
ation, from the motives he is said to have had; but
this attempt of Guiscard seems to have outdone them
all in every heightening circumstance, except the
difference of persons between a king and a great
minister: for I give no allowance at all to the differ-
ence of success (which, however, is yet uncertain
and depending), nor think it the least alleviation to
the crime, whatever it may be to the punishment.
I am sensible it is ill arguing from particulars to
generals, and that we ought not to charge upon a
nation the crimes of a few desperate villains it is so
unfortunate to produce; yet at the same time it must
be avowed that the French have, for these last cen-
turies, been somewhat too liberal of their daggers
upon the persons of their greatest men, such as the
admiral de Coligny, the dukes of Guise, father and
son, and the two kings I last mentioned. I have
sometimes wondered how a people whose genius
seems wholly turned to singing and dancing and
prating, to vanity and impertinence; who lay so much
weight upon modes and gestures; whose essen-
tialities are generally so very superficial; who are
usually so serious upon trifles, and so trifling upon what
is serious, have been capable of committing such solid
villanies, more suitable to the gravity of a Spaniard,
or the silence and thoughtfulness of an Italian: un-
less it be, that in a nation naturally so full of them-
selves, and of so restless imaginations, when any of
them happen to be of a morose and gloomy consti-
tution, that huddle of confused thoughts, for want of
evaporating, usually terminates in rage or despair.
D'Avila observes that Jacques Clement was a sort
of buffoon, whom the rest of the friars used to make
sport with; but at last, giving his folly a serious
turn, it ended in enthusiasm, and qualified him for
that desperate act of murdering his king.
But in the marquis de Guiscard there seems to
have been a complication of ingredients for such an
attempt. He had committed several enormities in
France, was extremely prodigal and vicious, of a
dark melancholy complexion and cloudy counte-
nance, such as in vulgar physiognomy is called an
ill look. For the rest, his talents were very mean,
having a sort of inferior cunning, but very small
abilities; so that a great man of the late ministry,
by whom he was invited over, and with much dis-
cretion raised at first step from a profligate popish
priest to a lieutenant-general and colonel of a regi-
ment of horse, was at last forced to drop him for
shame.
Had such an accident happened under that minis-
try, and to so considerable a member of it, they
would have immediately charged it upon the whole
body of those they are pleased to call the faction.
This would have been styled a high-church principle;
the clergy would have been accused as promoters
and abettors of the fact; committees would have
been sent to promise the criminal his life provided
they might have liberty to direct and dictate his con-
fession; and a black list would have been printed
of all those who had been ever seen in the mur-
derer's company. But the present men in power
hate and despise all such detestable arts, which they
might now turn upon their adversaries with much
more plausibility than ever these did their honour-
able negotiations with Greg.b
And here it may be worth observing how unani-
a The monk who assassinated Henry III. of France.
William Greg, an under clerk to Mr. secretary Harley, was
detected in a correspondence with Monsieur Chamillard, one of
the French king's ministers, to whom he transmitted the pro-
ceedings of both houses of parliament with respect to the aug.
mentation of the British forces and other papers of great ira-
portance.
THE EXAMINER.
331
mous a concurrence there is between some persons
once in great power and a French papist; both
agreeing in the great end of taking away Mr. Har-
ley's life, though differing in their methods; the first
proceeding by subornation, the other by violence;
wherein Guiscard seems to have the advantage, as
aiming no further than his life, while the others
designed to destroy at once both that and his reputa-
tion. The malice of both against this gentleman
seems to have risen from the same cause-his dis-
covering designs against the government. It was
Mr. Harley who detected the treasonable correspond-
ence of Greg, and secured him betimes, when a
certain great man who shall be nameless had, out
of the depth of his politics, sent him a caution to
make his escape, which would certainly have fixed
the appearance of guilt upon Mr. Harley; but when
that was prevented, they would have enticed the con-
demned criminal with promise of a pardon, to write
and sign an accusation against the secretary: but, to
use Greg's own expression, his death was nothing
near so ignominious as would have been such a life
that must be saved by prostituting his conscience.
The same gentleman now lies stabbed by his other
enemy, a popish spy, whose treason he has discovered.
God preserve the rest of her majesty's ministers from
such protestants, and from such papists!
I shall take occasion to hint at some particularities
in this surprising fact for the sake of those at a dis-
tance, or who may not be thoroughly informed. The
murderer confessed in Newgate that his chief design
was against Mr. secretary St. John, who happened
to change seats with Mr. Harley for more conve-
nience of examining the criminal: and being asked
what provoked him to stab the chancellor, he said
that, not being able to come at the secretary as he in-
tended, it was some satisfaction to murder the
per-
son whom he thought Mr. St. John loved best.
And here, if Mr. Harley has still any enemies left,
whom his blood spilt in the public service cannot re-
concile, I hope they will at least admire his magna-
nimity, which is a quality esteemed even in an ene-
my; and I think there are few greater instances of
it to be found in story. After the wound was given
he was observed neither to change his countenance
nor discover any concern or disorder in his speech.
He rose up and walked about the room while he was
able with the greatest tranquillity during the height of
the confusion. When the surgeon came, he took him
aside and desired he would inform him freely whether
the wound were mortal, because in that case he said
he had some affairs to settle relating to his family.
The blade of the penknife, broken by the violence
of the blow against the rib, within a quarter of an
inch of the handle, was dropped out (I know not whe-
ther from the wound or his clothes) as the surgeon was
going to dress him: he ordered it to be taken up,
and wiping it himself gave it to somebody to keep,
saying he thought it now properly belonged to him.
He showed no sort of resentment, nor spoke one
violent word against Guiscard, but appeared all the
while the least concerned of any in the company;
a state of mind which in such an exigency nothing
but innocence can give, and is truly worthy of a
christian philosopher.
If there be really so great a difference in principle
between the high-flying Whigs and the friends of
France, I cannot but repeat the question, how came
they to join in the destruction of the same man?
Can his death be possibly for the interest of both?
Or have they both the same quarrel against him,
that he is perpetually discovering and preventing the
treacherous designs of our enemies? However it be,
this great minister may now say, with St. Paul, that
|
he has been in perils by his own countrymen, and in
perils by strangers.
In the midst of so melancholy a subject, I cannot
but congratulate with our own country that such a
savage monster as the marquis de Guiscard is none
of her production: a wretch perhaps more detestable
in his own nature than even this barbarous act has
been yet able to represent him to the world. For
there are good reasons to believe, from several cir-
cumstances, that he had intentions of a deeper die
than those he happened to execute: I mean such as
every good subject must tremble to think on. He
has of late been frequently seen going up the back
stairs at court, and walking alone in an outer room
adjoining to her majesty's bedchamber. He has
often and earnestly pressed for some time to have
access to the queen, even since his correspondence
with France. And he has now given such a proof
of his disposition as leaves it easy to guess what was
before in his thoughts, and what he was capable of
attempting.
It is humbly to be hoped that the legislature will
interpose on so extraordinary an occasion as this,
and direct a punishment some way proportionable
to so execrable a crime.
Et quicunque tuum violavit vulnere corpus,
Morte luat meritâ
No. 34.
THURSDAY, MARCH 22, 1711.
De libertate retinenda, qua certe nihil est dulcius, tibi assentior.
I agree with you in respect to your sentiments for preserving
our liberty, than which nothing can be more pleasing tʊ a
human mind.
THE apologies of the ancient fathers are reckoned
to have been the most useful parts of their writings,
and to have done greatest service to the christian reli-
gion; because they removed those misrepresentations
which had done it most injury. The methods these
writers took were openly and freely to discover
every point of their faith, to detect the falsehood of
their accusers, and to charge nothing upon their ad-
versaries but what they were sure to make good.
This example has been ill followed of later times:
palliate the absurdities of their tenets, and loading
the papists, since the Reformation, using all arts to
the reformers with a thousand calumnies; the conse-
quence of which has been only a more various, wide,
civil schisms: a Whig forms an image of a Tory
and inveterate separation. It is the same thing in
just after the thing he most abhors, and that image
serves to represent the whole body.
I am not sensible of any material difference there
is between those who call themselves the old Whigs
and a great majority of the present Tories; at least
by all I could ever find from examining several per-
sons of each denomination. But it must be con-
fessed that the present body of Whigs, as they now
constitute that party, is a very odd mixture of man-
kind, being forced to enlarge their bottom by taking
in every heterodox professor, either in religion or
encourage for fear of lessening their number; while
government, whose opinions they were obliged to
the bulk of the landed men and people were en-
pretended a due regard to the monarchy and the
tirely of the old sentiments. However, they still
church, even at the time when they were making
being able to wipe off the many accusations laid to
the largest steps toward the ruin of both; but, not
to make the Tories appear blacker than themselves:
their charge, they endeavoured, by throwing scandal,
smaller evil of the two.
and so the people might join with them, as the
But among all the reproaches which the Whigs
332
THE EXAMINER.
have flung upon their adversaries, there is none has
done them more service than that of passive obedi-
ence, as they represent it with the consequences of
non-resistance, arbitrary power, indefeasible right,
tyranny, popery, and what not. There is no accu-
sation which has passed with more plausibility than
this, or any that is supported with less justice. In
order, therefore, to undeceive those who have been
misled by false representations, I thought it would
be no improper undertaking to set this matter in a
fair light, which I think has not yet been done. A
Whig asks whether you hold passive obedience?
you affirm it.: he then immediately cries out, “You
are a Jacobite, a friend of France and the pre-
tender!" because he makes you answerable for the
definition he has formed of that term, however dif-
ferent it be from what you understand. I will,
therefore, give two descriptions of passive obedi-
ence; the first, as it is falsely charged by the
Whigs; the other, as it is really professed by the
professed by the
Tories; at least by nineteen in twenty of all I ever
conversed with.
will,
Passive obedience, as charged by the Whigs.
THE doctrine of passive obedience is, to believe
that a king, even in a limited monarchy, holding his
power only from God, is only answerable to him;
that such a king is above all law; that the cruelest
tyrant must be submitted to in all things; and if his
commands be ever so unlawful, you must neither
fly nor resist, nor use any other weapons than pray-
ers and tears. Although he should force your wife
and daughter, murder your children before your
face, or cut off five hundred heads in a morning for
his diversion, you are still to wish him a long, pros-
perous reign, and to be patient under all his cruel-
ties, with the same resignation as under a plague or
a famine; because to resist him would be to resist
God, in the person of his vicegerent. If a king of
England should go through the streets of London in
order to murder every man he met, passive obedi-
ence commands them to submit. All laws made to
limit him signify nothing, although passed by his
own consent, if he thinks fit to break them. God
will, indeed, call him to a severe account; but the
whole people, united to a man, cannot presume to
hold his hands, or offer him the least active disobe-
dience: the people were certainly created for him,
and not he for the people. His next heir, although
worse than what I have described, although a fool or
a madman, has a divine indefeasible right to succeed
him, which no law can disannul; nay, although he
should kill his father upon the throne, he is imme-
diately king to all intents and purposes; the posses-
sion of the crown wiping off all stains. But whoso-
ever sits on the throne without this title, though
ever so peaceably, and by consent of former kings
and parliaments, is a usurper while there is any-
where in the world another person who has a nearer
hereditary right; and the whole kingdom lies under
mortal sin till that heir be restored, because he has
a divine title which no human law can defeat.
This and a great deal more has, in a thousand
papers and pamphlets, been laid to that doctrine of
passive obedience which the Whigs are pleased to
charge upon us. This is what they are perpetually
instilling into the people as the undoubted principle
by which the present ministry and a great majority
in parliament do at this time proceed. This is what
they accuse the clergy of delivering from the pulpits,
and of preaching up as a doctrine absolutely neces-
sary to salvation. And whoever affirms in general
that passive obedience is due to the supreme power,
he is presently loaded by our candid adversaries
with such consequences as these. Let us therefore
see what this doctrine is when stripped of such
misrepresentations, by describing it as really taught
and practised by the Tories; and then it will appear
what grounds our adversaries have to accuse us
upon this article.
Passive obedience, as professed and practised by the
Tories.
THEY think that in every government, whether
monarchy or republic, there is placed a supreme, ab-
solute, unlimited power, to which passive obedience
is due. That wherever is intrusted the power of
making laws, that power is without all bounds, can
repeal or enact at pleasure whatever laws it thinks
fit, and justly demand universal obedience and non-
resistance. That among us, as everybody knows,
this power is lodged in the king or queen, together
with the lords and commons of the kingdom; and,
therefore, all decrees whatsoever made by that
power are to be actively or passively obeyed. That
the administration, or executive part of this power,
is, in England, solely intrusted with the prince;
who in administering those laws ought to be no
more resisted than the legislative power itself. But
they do not conceive the same absolute passive obe-
dience to be due to a limited prince's commands,
when they are directly contrary to the laws he has
consented to and sworn to maintain. The crown
may be sued as well as a private person; and if an
arbitrary king of England should send his officers to
seize my lands or goods against law, I can lawfully
resist them. The ministers by whom he acts are
liable to prosecution and impeachment, although his
own person be sacred. But, if he interpose royal
authority to support their insolence, I see no remedy
until it grows a general grievance, or until the body
of the people have reason to apprehend it will be so;
after which it becomes a case of necessity; and then,
suppose, a free people may assert their own rights,
yet without any violation to the person or lawful
power of the prince. But, although the Tories al-
low all this, and did justify it by the share they had
in the Revolution, yet they see no reason for enter-
ing upon so ungrateful a subject, or raising contro-
versies upon it, as if we were in daily apprehensions
of tyranny, under the reign of so excellent a prin-
cess, and while we have so many laws of late years
made to limit the prerogative; when, according to
the judgment of those who know our constitution
best, things rather seem to lean to the other ex-
treme, which is equally to be avoided. As to the
succession, the Tories think an hereditary right to
be the best in its own nature, and most agreeable to
our old constitution; yet, at the same time, they al-
low it to be defeasible by act of parliament; and so
is Magna Charta too, if the legislature think fit:
which is a truth so manifest, that no man who un-
derstands the nature of government can be in doubt
concerning it.
I
These I take to be the sentiments of a great ma-
jority among the Tories with respect to passive obe-
dience and if the Whigs insist, from the writings
or common talk of warm and ignorant men, to form
a judgment of the whole body, according to the first
account I have here given, I will engage to produce
as many of their side who are utterly against passive
obedience even to the legislature; who will assert
the last resort of power to be in the people, against
those whom they have chosen and trusted as their
representatives, with the prince at the head; and
who will put wild improbable cases to show the
reasonableness and necessity of resisting the legis-
lative power in such imaginary junctures: than
THE EXAMINER.
333
which, however, nothing can be more idle; for I
dare undertake in any system of government, either
speculative or practic, that was ever yet in the
world, from Plato's Republic to Harrington's
to Harrington's
Oceana, to put such difficulties as cannot be an-
swered.
All the other calumnies raised by the Whigs may
be as easily wiped off; and I have the charity to
wish they could as fully answer the just accusations
we have against them. Dodwell, Hickes, and
Lesley, are gravely quoted to prove that the Tories
design to bring in the pretender; and if I should
quote them to prove that the same thing is intended
by the Whigs, it would be full as reasonable; since
I am sure they have at least as much to do with
Nonjurors as we. But our objections against the
Whigs are built upon their constant practice for
many years, whereof I have produced a hundred
instances, against any single one of which no an-
swer has yet been attempted, although I have been
curious enough to look into all the papers I could
meet with that are written against the Examiner;
such a task as, I hope, no man thinks I would under-
go for any other end but that of finding an oppor-
tunity to own and rectify my mistakes: as I would
be ready to do upon the call of the meanest adver-
sary. Upon which occasion I shall take leave to add
a few words.
I flattered myself last Thursday, from the nature
of my subject, and the inoffensive manner I handled
it, that I should have one week's respite from those
merciless pens whose severity will some time break
my heart but I am deceived, and find them more
violent than ever. They charge me with two lies
and a blunder. The first lie is a truth, that Guis-
card was invited over; but it is of no consequence.
I do not tax it as a fault; such sort of men have
often been serviceable: I only blamed the indiscre-
tion of raising a profligate abbot, at the first step, to
a lieutenant-general and colonel of a regiment of
horse, without staying some reasonable time, as is
usual in such cases, until he had given some proofs
of his fidelity as well as of that interest and credit he
pretended to have in his country. But that is said
to be another lie; for he was a papist, and could not
have a regiment; however, this other lie is a truth
too; for a regiment he had, and paid by us to his
agent, Monsieur le Bas, for his use. The third is a
blunder; that I say Guiscard's design was against
Mr. secretary St. John, and yet my reasonings upon
it are as if it were personally against Mr. Harley.
But I say no such thing, and my reasonings are just.
I relate only what Guiscard said in Newgate, be-,
cause it was a particularity the reader might be curi-
ous to know, and accordingly it lies in a paragraph
by itself, after my reflections; but I never meant to
be answerable for what Guiscard said, or thought it
of weight enough for me to draw conclusions thence,
when I had the address of both houses to direct me.
better where it is expressly said that Mr. Harley's
fidelity to her majesty, and zeal for her service, have
drawn upon him the hatred of all the abettors of
popery and faction. This is what I believe, and what
I shall stick to.
But, alas! these are not the passages which have
raised so much fury against me. One or two mis-
takes in facts of no importance, or a single blunder,
would not have provoked them; they are not so
tender of my reputation as a writer. All their out-
rage is occasioned by those passages in that paper
which they do not in the least pretend to answer,
and with the utmost reluctancy are forced to men-
tion. They take abundance of pains to clear Guis-
card from a design against Mr. Harley's life: but
offer not one argument to clear their other friends,
who, in the business of Greg, were equally guilty of
the same design against the same person; whose
tongues were very swords, and whose penknives
were axes.
No. 35.
THURSDAY, MARCH 29, 1711.
Sunt hic etiam sua præmia laudi ;
Sunt lachrymæ rerum, et mentem mortalia tangunt.
See
The palm that virtue yields in scenes like these
We trace humanity, and man with man
Related by the kindred sense of woe.
I BEGIN to be heartily weary of my employment as
Examiner; which I wish the ministry would consi-
der with half so much concern as I do, and assign
me some other, with less pains and a larger pension.
There may soon be a vacancy either on the bench,
in the revenue, or the army, and I am equally quali-
fied for each; but this trade of examining, I appre-
hend, may at one time or other go near to sour my
temper. I did lately propose that some of those in-
genious pens which are engaged on the other side.
might be employed to succeed me; and I undertook
to bring them over for t'other crown; but it was an-
swered, that those gentlemen do much better ser-
vice in the stations where they are. It was added
that abundance of abuses yet remained to be laid
open to the world, which I had often promised to
do, but was too much diverted by other subjects that
came into my head. On the other side, the advices
of some friends, and the threats of many enemies, have
put me upon considering what would have become
of me if times should alter; this I have done very
maturely, and the result is, that I am in no manner
of pain.
I grant that what I have said upon occa-
sion, concerning the late men in power, may be
called satire by some unthinking people, as long as
that faction is down; but if ever they come into
play again I must give them warning beforehand
that I shall expect to be a favourite, and that those
pretended advocates of theirs will be pilloried for
libellers. For I appeal to any man whether I
ever charged that party, or its leaders, with one sin-
gle action or design which (if we may judge by
their former practices) they will not openly profess,
be proud of, and score up for merit when they come
again to the head of affairs. I said they were inso-
lent to the queen; will they not value themselves
upon that as an argument to prove them bold
assertors of the people's liberty? I affirmed they
were against a peace; will they be angry with me
for setting forth the refinements of their politics, in
pursuing the only method left to preserve them in
power? I said they had involved the nation in
debts, and engrossed much of its money; they go
beyond me, and boast they have got it all, and the
credit too. I have urged the probability of their
intending great alterations in religion and govern-
ment; if they destroy both at their next coming,
will they not reckon my foretelling it rather as a
panegyric than an affront? I said they had formerly
a design against Mr. Harley's life; if they were now
in power would they not immediately cut off his
head, and thank me for justifying the sincerity of
their intentions? In short, there is nothing I ever
said of those worthy patriots which may not be as
well excused; therefore, as soon as they resume.
their places I positively design to put in my claim;
and, I think, may do it with a much better grace
than many of that party who now make their court
to the present ministry. I know two or three great
men, at whose levees you may daily observe a score
334
THE EXAMINER.
of the most forward faces, which everybody is
ashamed of, except those who wear them. But I
conceive my pretensions will be upon a very differ-
ent foot. Let me offer a parallel case:-Suppose
king Charles the First had entirely subdued the
rebels at Naseby, and reduced the kingdom to his
obedience; whoever had gone about to reason from
the former conduct of those saints, that if the victory
had fallen on their side they would have murdered
their prince, destroyed monarchy and the church,
and made the king's party compound for their es-
tates as delinquents, would have been called a false
uncharitable libeller by those very persons who
afterward gloried in all this, and called it the work
of the Lord when they happened to succeed. I re-
member there was a person fined and imprisoned
for scandalum magnatum, because he said the duke
of York was a papist; but when that prince came
to be king, and made open profession of his religion,
he had the justice immediately to release his pri-
soner, who, in his opinion, had put a compliment
upon him, and not a reproach; and therefore colonel
Titus, a who had warmly asserted the same thing in
parliament, was made a privy-counsellor.
Whigs begin to be convinced that we have been all
this while in the wrong hands, and that things are
now as they should be. And as the present house of
commons is the best representative of the nation that
has ever been summoned in our memories, so they
have taken care in their first session, by that noble
bill of qualification, that future parliaments should
be composed of landed men; and our properties lie
no more at the mercy of those who have none them-
selves, or at least only what is transient or imaginary.
If there be any gratitude in posterity, the memory
of this assembly will be always celebrated; if other-
wise, at least we, who share in the blessings they
derive to us, ought with grateful hearts to acknow-
ledge them.
I design in some following papers to draw up a
list (for I can do no more) of the great things this
parliament has already performed; the many abuses
they have detected; their justice in deciding elections
without regard to party; their cheerfulness and
address in raising supplies for the war, and at the
same time providing for the nation's debts; their
duty to the queen, and their kindness to the church.
In the mean time I cannot forbear mentioning
two particulars which, in my opinion, do discover
in some measure the temper of the present parlia-
ment, and bear analogy to those passages related by
Plutarch in the lives of certain great men, which,
as himself observes, although they be not of actions.
which make any great noise or figure in history, yet
give more light into the characters of persons than
we could receive from an account of their most re-
nowned achivements.
Something like this may be observed from two
late instances of decency and good nature in that
illustrious assembly I am speaking of. The first
was when, after that inhuman attempt upon Mr.
Harley, they were pleased to vote an address to the
queen, wherein they express their utmost detestation
of the fact, their high esteem and great concern for
that able minister, and justly impute his misfortunes
to that zeal for her majesty's service which had
drawn upon him the hatred of all the abettors of
popery and faction. I dare affirm that so distin-
By this rule, if that which for some politic rea-
sons is now called scandal upon the late ministry,
proves one day to be only an abstract of such a cha-
racter as they will assume and be proud of, I think I
may fairly offer my pretensions, and hope for their
favour; and I am the more confirmed in this notion
by what I have observed in those papers that come
out weekly against the Examiner. The authors are
perpetually telling me of my ingratitude to my mas-
ters; that I blunder and betray the cause, and write
with more bitterness against those who hire me than
against the Whigs. Now I took all this at first only
for so many strains of wit, and pretty paradoxes, to
divert the reader; but, upon further thinking, I find
they are serious. I imagined I had complimented
the present ministry for their dutiful behaviour to
the queen, for their love of the old constitution in
church and state, for their generosity and justice,
and for their desire of a speedy honourable peace;
but it seems I am mistaken, and they reckon all this
for satire, because it is directly contrary to the prac-guishing a mark of honour and good will from such
tice of all those whom they set up to defend, and
utterly against all their notions of a good ministry.
Therefore I cannot but think they have reason on
their side; for, suppose I should write the character
of an honest, a religious, and a learned man, and
send the first to Newgate, the second to the Grecian
coffeehouse, and the last to White's, would they not
all pass for satires, and justly enough, among the
companies to whom they were sent?
Having therefore employed several papers in such
sort of panegyric, and but very few on what they
understand to be satires, I shall henceforth upon
occasion be more liberal of the latter; of which they
are likely to have a taste in the remainder of this
present paper.
Among all the advantages which the kingdom has
received by the late change of ministry, the greatest
must be allowed to be the calling of the present
parliament upon the dissolution of the last. It is
acknowledged that this excellent assembly has en-
tirely recovered the honour of parliaments, which
had been unhappily prostituted for some years past
by the factious proceedings of an unnatural majority,
in concert with a most corrupt administration. It
is plain, by the present choice of members, that the
electors of England, when left to themselves, do
rightly understand their true interest. The moderate
Author of the tract against Oliver Cromwell," Killing no
Murder."
a parliament was more acceptable to a person of Mr.
Harley's generous nature than the most bountiful
grant that was ever yet made to a subject; as her
majesty's answer, filled with gracious expressions in
his favour, adds more to his real glory than any
titles she could bestow. The prince and represent-
atives of the whole kingdom join in their concern
for so important a life; these are the true rewards
of virtue; and this is the commerce between noble
spirits, in a coin which the giver knows where to
bestow, and the receiver how to value, although
neither avarice nor ambition would be able to com-
prehend its worth.
The other instance I intend to produce, of decency
and good nature in the present house of commons,
relates to their most worthy speaker; a who, having
unfortunately lost his eldest son, the assembly, moved
with a generous pity for so sensible an affliction,
adjourned themselves for a week, that so good a
servant for the public might have some interval to
wipe away a father's tears. And, indeeed, that gen-
tleman has too just an occasion for his grief, by the
death of a son who had already acquired so great a
reputation for every amiable quality, and who might
have lived to be so great an honour and an crua-
ment to his ancient family.
Before I conclude, I inust desire one favour of the
a William Bromley, esq., elected speaker Nov. 23, 1710; aud
sworn of the privy council June 23, 1711.
THE EXAMINER.
335
reader; that, when he thinks it worth his while to
peruse any paper written against the Examiner, he
will not form his judgment by any mangled quota-
tion out of it which he finds in such papers, but be
so just as to read the paragraph referred to, which I
am confident will be found a sufficient answer to all
that ever those papers can object; at least I have
seen above fifty of them, and never yet observed one
single quotation transcribed with common candour.
No. 36.
THURSDAY, APRIL 5, 1711.
Nullo suo peccato impediantur, quo minus alterius peccata
demonstrare possint.
No fault or crime in themselves hinders them from searching
into and pointing out the faults of others.
I HAVE been considering the old constitution of this
kingdom; comparing it with the monarchies and
republics whereof we meet so many accounts in an-
cient story, and with those at present in most parts
of Europe. I have considered our religion, esta-
blished here by the legislature soon after the Reform-
ation. I have likewise examined the genius and
disposition of the people under that reasonable free-
dom they possess. Then I have turned my reflec-
tions upon those two great divisions of Whig and
Tory (which some way or other take in the whole
kingdom), with the principles they both profess, as
well as those wherewith they reproach one another.
From all this I endeavour to determine from which
side her present majesty may reasonably hope for
most security to her person and government, and to
which she ought in prudence to trust the adminis-
tration of her affairs. If these two rivals were really
no more than parties according to the common ac-
ceptation of the word, I should agree with those poli-
ticians who think a prince descends from his dignity
by putting himself at the head of either, and that his
wisest course is to keep them in a balance, raising
or depressing either as it best suits with his designs.
But when the visible interest of his crown and king-
dom lies on one side, and when the other is but a
faction, raised and strengthened by incidents and
intrigues, and by deceiving the people with false
representations of things, he ought in prudence to
take the first opportunity of opening his subjects'
eyes, and declaring himself in favour of those who
are for preserving the civil and religious rights of the
nation, wherewith his own are so interwoven.
This was certainly our case: for I do not take the
heads, advocates, and followers of the Whigs, to
make up, strictly speaking, a national party; being
patched up of heterogeneous, inconsistent parts,
whom nothing served to unite but the common in-
terest of sharing in the spoil and plunder of the
people; the present dread of their adversaries, by
whom they apprehended to be called to an account;
and that general conspiracy of endeavouring to over-
turn the church and state, which, however, if they
could have compassed, they would certainly have
fallen out among themselves, and broke in pieces,
as their predecessors did after they destroyed the
monarchy and religion. For how could a Whig,
who is against all discipline, agree with a presby-
terian, who carries it higher than the papists them-
selves? How could a Socinian adjust his models to
either? Or how could any of these cement with a
deist, or freethinker, when they came to consult
upon points of faith? Neither would they have
agreed better in their systems of government, where
some would have been for a king under the limit-
ations of a duke of Venice; others for a Dutch re-
public; a third party for an aristocracy; and most
of all for some new fabric of their own contriving.
But, however, let us consider them as a party, and
under those general tenets wherein they agreed and
which they publicly owned, without charging them
with any that they pretend to deny. Then, let us
examine those principles of the Tories which their
adversaries allow them to profess, and do not pretend
to tax them with any actions contrary to those pro-
fessions after which, let the reader judge which of
these two parties a prince has most to fear; and
whether her majesty did not consider the ease, the
safety, and dignity of her person, the security of her
crown, and the transmission of monarchy to her
protestant successors, when she put her affairs into
the present hands.
Suppose the matter were now entire, the queen to
make her choice, and for that end should order the
principles on both sides to be fairly laid before her.
First, I conceive the Whigs would grant that they
have naturally no very great veneration for crowned
heads; that they allow the person of the prince may,
upon many occasions, be resisted by arms; and they
do not condemn the war raised against king Charles
the First, or own it to be a rebellion, although they
would be thought to blame his murder. They do
not think the prerogative to be yet sufficiently
limited, and have therefore taken care (as a par-
ticular mark of their veneration for the illustrious
house of Hanover) to clip it still closer against the
next reign; which consequently they would be glad
to see done in the present; not to mention that the
majority of them, if it were put to the vote, would
allow that they prefer a commonwealth before a
monarchy. As to religion, their universal undis-
puted maxim is, that it ought to make no distinction
at all among protestants; and in the word pro-
testant they include everybody who is not a papist,
and who will by an oath give security to the govern-
ment. Union in discipline and doctrine, the offen-
sive sin of schism, the notion of a church and a
hierarchy, they laugh at, as foppery, cant, and priest-
craft. They see no necessity at all that there should
be a national faith; and what we usually call by that
name they only style "the religion of the magis-
trate." Since the dissenters and we agree in the
main, why should the difference of a few speculative
points or modes of dress incapacitate them from
serving their prince and country in a juncture when
we ought to have all hands up against the common
enemy? And why should they be forced to take the
sacrament from our clergy's hands, and in our pos-
ture; or, indeed, why compelled to receive it at all,
when they take an employment which has nothing
to do with religion?
These are the notions which most of that party
avow, and which they do not endeavour to disguise
or set off with false colours, or complain of being
misrepresented about. I have here placed them on
purpose in the same light which themselves do in
the very apologies they make for what we accuse
them of; and how inviting even these doctrines are
for such a monarch to close with, as our law, both
statute and common, understands a king of England
to be, let others decide. But then, if to these we
should add other opinions, which most of their own
writers justify, and which their universal practice
has given a sanction to, they are no more than what
a prince might reasonably expect as the natural con-
sequence of those avowed principles. For when
such persons are at the head of affairs, the low
opinion they have of princes will certainly lead them
to violate that respect they ought to bear; and at the
same time their own want of duty to their sovereign
336
THE EXAMINER.
is largely made up by exacting greater submissions |
to themselves from their fellow-subjects; it being
indisputably true that the same principle of pride
and ambition makes a man treat his equals with in-
solence in the same proportion as he affronts his
superiors; as both prince and people have sufficiently
felt from the late ministry.
Then, from their confessed notions of religion, as
above related, I see no reason to wonder why they
countenanced not only all sorts of dissenters, but
the several gradations of freethinkers among us, all
which are openly enrolled in their party; nor why
they were so averse from the present established form
of worship, which, by prescribing obedience to princes
from the topic of conscience, would be sure to thwart
all their schemes of innovation.
One thing I might add, as another acknowledged
maxim in that party, and in my opinion as dangerous
to the constitution as any I have mentioned; I mean
that of preferring on all occasions the moneyed inter-
est before the landed; which they were so far from
denying, that they would gravely debate the reason-
ableness and justice of it; and, at the rate they went
on, might in a little time have found a majority of
representatives fitly qualified to lay those heavy bur-
dens on the rest of the nation which themselves
would not touch with one of their fingers.
However, to deal impartially, there are some mo-
tives which might compel a prince, under the neces-
sity of affairs, to deliver himself over to that party.
They were said to possess the great bulk of cash, and
consequently of credit in the nation; and the heads
of them had the reputation of presiding over those
societies who have the great direction of both; so
that all applications for loans to the public service,
upon any emergency, must be made through them;
and it might prove highly dangerous to disoblige
them, because, in that case, it was not to be doubted
that they would be obstinate and malicious, ready
to obstruct all affairs, not only by shutting their own
purses, but by endeavouring to sink credit, although
with some present imaginary loss to themselves, only
to show it was a creature of their own.
From this summary of Whig principles and dis-
positions we find what a prince may reasonably fear
and hope from that party. Let us now very briefly
consider the doctrines of the Tories, which their
adversaries will not dispute. As they prefer a well-
regulated monarchy before all other forms of govern-
ment, so they think it next to impossible to alter
that institution here without involving our whole
island in blood and desolation. They believe that
the prerogative of a sovereign ought at least to be
held as sacred and inviolable as the rights of his
people; if only for this reason, because, without a
due share of power, he will not be able to protect
them. They think that by many known laws of
this realm, both statute and common, neither the
person nor lawful authority of the prince ought,
upon any pretence whatsoever, to be resisted or dis-
obeyed. Their sentiments in relation to the church
are known enough, and will not be controverted,
being just the reverse to what I have delivered as
the doctrine and practice of the Whigs upon that
article.
But here I must likewise deal impartially too,
and add one principle as a characteristic of the
Tories which has much discouraged some princes
from making use of them in affairs. Give the Whigs
but power enough to insult their sovereign, engross
his favours to themselves, and to oppress and plunder
their fellow-subjects; they presently grow into good
humour and good language toward the crown; pro-
fess they will stand by it with their lives and fortunes;
and, whatever rudenesses they may be guilty of in
private, yet they assure the world that there never
was so gracious a monarch. But to the shame of
the Tories it must be confessed that nothing of all
this has been ever observed in them; in or out of
favour, you see no alteration further than a little
cheerfulness or cloud in their countenances; the
highest employments can add nothing to their loy-
alty; but their behaviour to their prince, as well as
their expressions of love and duty, are in all condi-
tions exactly the same.
Having thus impartially stated the avowed prin-
ciple of Whig and Tory, let the reader determine as
he pleases to which of these two a wise prince may,
with most safety to himself and the public, trust his
person and his affairs: and whether it were rashness
or prudence in her majesty to make those changes
in the ministry which have been so highly extolled
by some and condemned by others.
No. 37.
THURSDAY, APRIL 12, 1711.
Tres species tam dissimiles, tria talia texta,
Una dies dedit exitio
Such different forms of various threads combin'd,
One day destroy'd, in common ruin join'd.
I WRITE this paper for the sake of the dissenters,
whom I take to be the most spreading branch of the
Whig party that professes christianity, and the only
one that seems to be zealous for any particular sys-
tem of it; the bulk of those we call the Low Church
being generally indifferent and undetermined in that
point, and the other subdivisions having not yet
taken either the Old or the New Testament into
their scheme. By the dissenters therefore it will
easily be understood that I mean the presbyterians,
as they include the sects of anabaptists, independents,
and others, which have been melted down into them
since the Restoration. This sect, in order to make
itself national, having gone so far as to raise a rebel-
lion, murder their king, destroy monarchy and the
church, was afterward broken in pieces by its own
divisions, which made way for the king's return
from his exile. However, the zealous among them
did still entertain hopes of recovering the dominion
of grace: whereof I have read a remarkable passage
in a book published about the year 1661, and written
by one of their own side. As one of the regicides
was going to his execution, a friend asked him whe-
ther he thought the cause would revive? He an-
swered, The cause is in the bosom of Christ; and as
sure as Christ rose from the dead, so sure will the
cause revive also. And therefore the Nonconformists
were strictly watched, and restrained by penal laws,
during the reign of king Charles the Second; the court
and kingdom looking on them as a faction, ready to
join in any design against the government in church
or state.
•
And surely this was reasonable enough
while so many continued alive who had voted, and
fought, and preached against both, and gave no proof
that they had changed their principles. The Non-
conformists were then exactly upon the same foot
with our Nonjurors now, whom we double-tax, for-
bid their conventicles, and keep under hatches, with-
out thinking ourselves possessed with a persecuting
spirit, because we know they want nothing but the
power to ruin us. This, in my opinion, should al-
together silence the dissenters' complaints of per-
secution under king Charles the Second, or make
them show us wherein they differed at that time
from what our Jacobites are now.
Their inclinations to the church were soon dis-
covered when king James the Second succeeded to
THE EXAMINER.
337
the crown; with whom they unanimously joined in
its ruin, to revenge themselves for that restraint they
had most justly suffered in the foregoing reign; not
from the persecuting temper of the clergy, as their
clamours would suggest, but the prudence and caution
of the legislature. The same indulgence against
law was made use of by them and the papists; and
they amicably employed their power, as in defence of
one common interest.
But the revolution happening soon after served to
wash away the memory of the rebellion; upon which
the run against popery was no doubt as just and
seasonable as that of fanaticism after the restoration:
and the dread of popery being then our latest danger,
and consequently the most fresh upon our spirits, all
mouths were open against that; the dissenters were
rewarded with an indulgence by law; the rebellion
and king's murder were now no longer a reproach;
the former was only a civil war, and whoever durst
call it a rebellion was a Jacobite and friend to
France. This was the more unexpected, because,
the revolution being wholly brought about by church-
of-England hands, they hoped one good consequence
of it would be the relieving us from the encroach-
ments of dissenters as well as those of papists; since
both had equally confederated toward our ruin: and
therefore when the crown was new settled, it was
hoped at least that the rest of the constitution would
be restored. But this affair took a very different
turn: the dissenters had just made a shift to save a
tide and join with the prince of Orange, when they
found all was desperate with their protector king
James; and observing a party then forming against
the old principles in church and state under the
name of Whigs and low churchmen, they listed
themselves of it, where they have ever since con-
tinued. It is therefore upon the foot they now are
that I would apply myself to them and desire they
would consider the different circumstances at present
from what they were under when they began their
designs against the church and monarchy about
seventy years ago. At that juncture they made up
the body of the party; and whosoever joined with
them from principles of revenge, discontent, ambi-
tion, or love of change, were all forced to shelter
under their denomination; united heartily in the
pretences of a farther and purer reformation in reli-
gion and of advancing the great work (as the cant
was then) that God was about to do in these nations;
received the systems of doctrine and discipline pre-
scribed by the Scots, and readily took the covenant;
so that there appeared no division among them till
after the common enemy was subdued.
:
But now their case is quite otherwise and I can
hardly think it worth being of a party upon the terms
they have been received of late years.
For suppose
the whole faction should at length succeed in their
design of destroying the church; are they so weak
as to imagine that the new modelling of religion
would be put into their hands? would their brethren,
the low churchmen and freethinkers, submit to their
discipline, their synods, and their classes; and divide
the lands of bishops, or deans and chapters, among
them? How can they help observing that their
allies, instead of pretending more sanctity than other
men, are some of them for levelling all religion, and
the rest for abolishing it? Is it not manifest that
they have been treated by their confederates exactly
after the same manner as they were by king James
the Second; made instruments to ruin the church;
not for their own sakes, but under a pretended
project of universal freedom in opinion to advance
the dark designs of those who employ them? For
excepting the antimonarchical principle and a few
VOL. I.
false notions about liberty, I see but little agree-
ment between them; and even in these I believe it
would be impossible to contrive a frame of govern-
ment that would please them all if they had it now
in their power to try. But however, to be sure, the
presbyterian institution would never obtain. For
suppose they should, in imitation of their predeces-
sors, propose to have no king but our Saviour Christ;
the whole clan of freethinkers would immediately
object and refuse his authority. Neither would
their low church brethren use them better, as well
knowing what enemies they are to that doctrine of
unlimited toleration wherever they are suffered to
preside. So that upon the whole I do not see, as
their present circumstances stand, where the dissent-
ers can find better quarter than from the church of
England.
Besides, I leave it to their consideration whether,
with all their zeal against the church, they ought not
to show a little decency; and how far it consists
with their reputation to act in concert with such
confederates. It was reckoned a very infamous pro-
ceeding in the present most christian king to assist
the Turk against the emperor: policy and reasons of
state were not allowed sufficient excuses for taking
part with an infidel against a believer. It is one of
the dissenters' quarrels against the church that she
is not enough reformed from popery; yet they boldly
entered into a league with papists and a popish
prince to destroy her. They profess much sanctity,
and object against the wicked lives of some of our
members; yet they have been long and still continue
in strict combination with libertines and atheists to
contrive our ruin. What if the Jews should multi-
ply and become a formidable party among us?
Would the dissenters join in alliance with them
likewise because they agree already in some general
principles, and because the Jews are allowed to be a
stiffnecked and rebellious people?
It is the part of wise men to conceal their passions
when they are not in circumstances of exerting them
to purpose: the arts of getting power and preserving
indulgence are very different. For the former the
reasonable hopes of the dissenters seem to be at an
end; their comrades, the Whigs and freethinkers,
are just in a condition proper to be forsaken; and
the parliament, as well as the body of the people,
will be deluded no longer. Besides, it sometimes
happens for a cause to be exhausted and worn out,
as that of the Whigs in general seems at present to
be; the nation had felt enough of it. It is as vain
to hope restoring that decayed interest as for a man
of sixty to talk of entering on a new scene of life,
that is only proper for youth and vigour. New cir
cumstances and new men must arise, as well as new
occasions, which are not likely to happen in our time.
So that the dissenters have no game left at present
but to secure their indulgence: in order to which I
will be so bold as to offer them some advice.
First, That until some late proceedings are a little
forgot, they would take care not to provoke, by any
violence of tongue or pen, so great a majority as there
is now against them; nor keep up any longer that
combination with their broken allies; but disperse
themselves, and lie dormant against some better op-
portunity. I have shown they could have got no
advantage if the late party had prevailed; and they
will certainly lose none by its fall unless through
their own fault. They pretend a mighty veneration
for the queen; let them give proof of it by quitting
the ruined interest of those who have used her so
ill; and by a due respect to the persons she is pleased
to trust at present with her affairs. When they can
no longer hope to govern, when struggling can do
Z
338
THE EXAMINER.
them no good, and may possibly hurt them, what is
left but to be silent and passive?
Secondly, Although there be no law (beside that
of God Almighty) against occasional conformity, it
would be prudence in the dissenters to use it as
tenderly as they can: for beside the infamous hypo-
crisy of the thing itself, too frequent practice would
perhaps make a remedy necessary. And after all
they have said to justify themselves in this point, it
still continues hard to conceive how those consciences
can pretend to be scrupulous upon which an em-
ployment has more power than the love of unity.
In the last place, I am humbly of opinion that the
dissenters would do well to drop that lesson they
have learned from their directors, of affecting to be
under horrible apprehensions that the Tories are in
the interest of the pretender, and would be ready to
embrace the first opportunity of inviting him over.
It is with the worst grace in the world that they offer
to join in the cry upon this article; as if those who
alone stood in the gap against all the encroachments
of popery and arbitrary power are not more likely to
keep out both than a set of schismatics; who, to
gratify their ambition and revenge, did, by the
meanest compliances, encourage and spirit up that
unfortunate prince to fall upon such measures as
must at last have ended in the ruin of our liberty
and religion.
P. S.-I wish those who give themselves the trouble
to write to the Examiner would consider whether
what they send would be proper for such a paper to
take notice of. I had one letter last week, written
as I suppose by a divine, to desire I would offer
some reasons against a bill now before the parliament
for ascertaining the tithe of hops; from which the
writer apprehends great damage to the clergy, espe-
cially the poorer vicars. If it be as he says (and he
seems to argue very reasonably upon it), the convoca-
tion now sitting will, no doubt, upon due application,
represent the matter to the house of commons; and
he may expect all justice and favour from that great
body, who have already appeared so tender of their
rights.
A gentleman likewise who has sent me several
letters relating to personal hardships he received from
some of the late ministry, is advised to publish a
narrative of them, they being too large and not pro-
per for this paper.
No. 38.
THURSDAY, APRIL 19, 1711.
Semper causæ eventorum magis movent quam ipsa eventa.
We are always more moved at the causes of events than at the
events themselves.
have been softened or diverted by the calmness of
others; so that, upon the article of present manage-
ment, I do not see how any objection of weight can
well be raised.
However, our adversaries still allege that this great
success was wholly unexpected, and out of all pro-
bable view; that in public affairs we ought least of
all others to judge by events; that the attempt of
changing a ministry during the difficulties of a long
war was rash and inconsiderate; that if the queen
were disposed, by her inclinations, or from any per-
sonal dislike, for such a change, it might have been
done with more safety in a time of peace; that if it
had miscarried by any of those incidents which in
all appearance might have intervened, the conse-
quences would perhaps have ruined the whole confe-
deracy; and therefore, however it has now succeeded,
the experiment was too dangerous to try.
But this is what we can by no means allow them.
We never will admit rashness or chance to have
produced all this harmony and order. It is visible
to the world that the several steps toward this change
were slowly taken, and with the utmost caution.
The movers observed, as they went on, how matters
would bear; and advanced no further at first than
so as they might be able to stop or go back if circum-
stances were not mature. Things were grown to
such a height that it was no longer the question
whether a person who aimed at an employment were
a Whig or Tory; much less whether he had merit
or proper abilities for what he pretended to: he
must owe his preferment only to the favourites; and
the crown was so far from nominating, that they
would not allow it a negative. This the queen was
resolved no longer to endure; and began to break
into their prescription, by bestowing one or two
places of consequence, without consulting her ephori,
after they had fixed them for others, and concluded
as usual that all their business was to signify their
pleasure to her majesty. But although the persons
the queen had chosen were such as no objection
could well be raised against upon the score of party,
yet the oligarchy took the alarm; their sovereign.
authority was it seems called in question; they
grew into anger and discontent, as if their undoubted
rights were violated. All former obligations to their
sovereign now became cancelled; and they put them-
selves upon the foot of the people who are hardly
used after the most eminent services.
I believe all men who know anything in politics
will agree that a prince thus treated by those he has
most confided in, and perpetually loaded with his
favours, ought to extricate himself as soon as possi-
ble, and is then only blamable in his choice of
time when he defers one minute after it is in his
power; because, from the monstrous encroachments
of exorbitant avarice and ambition, he cannot tell
how long it may continue to be so. And it will be
found upon inquiring into history that most of those
princes who have been ruined by favourites have
owed their misfortune to the neglect of earlier
remedies; deferring to struggle until they were
quite sunk.
I AM glad to observe that several among the Whigs
have begun very much to change their language of
late. The style is now among the reasonable part |
of them, when they meet a man in business, or a
member of parliament, Well, gentlemen, if you go on
as you have hitherto done, we shall no longer have
any pretence to complain: they find it seems that
there have been yet no overtures made to bring in the
pretender, nor any preparatory steps toward it. They The Whigs are every day cursing the ungovern-
read no enslaving votes, nor bills brought in to en- able rage, the haughty pride, and insatiable covetous-
danger the subject. The indulgence to scrupulousness of a certain person, as the cause of their fall;
consciences is again confirmed from the throne, invio-
lably preserved, and not the least whisper offered
that may affect it. All care is taken to support the
war; supplies cheerfully granted, and funds readily
subscribed to, in spite of the little arts made use of
to discredit them. The just resentments of some,
which are laudable in themselves, and to which at
another juncture it might be proper to give way,
and are apt to tell their thoughts, that one single
removal might have set all things right. But the
interests of that single person were found, upon ex-
perience, so complicated and woven with the rest,
by love, by awe, by marriage, by alliance, that they
would rather confound heaven and earth than dissolve
such an union.
I have always heard and understood that a king of
THE EXAMINER.
339
England, possessed of his people's hearts, at the head
of a free parliament, and in full agreement with a
great majority, made the true figure in the world that
such a monarch ought to do, and pursued the real
interest of himself and his kingdom. Will they
allow her majesty to be in those circumstances at
present? And was it not plain, by the addresses
sent from all parts of the island, and by the visible
disposition of the people, that such a parliament
would undoubtedly be chosen? and so it proved,
without the court's using any arts to influence elec-
tions.
What people then are these in a corner to whom
the constitution must truckle? If the whole nation's
credit cannot supply funds for the war without hum-
ble applications from the entire legislature to a few
retailers of money, it is high time we should sue for
a peace. What new maxims are these, which nei-
ther we nor our forefathers ever heard of before, and
which no wise institution would ever allow ? must
our laws from henceforward pass the Bank and East
India Company, or have their royal assent before
they are in force?
the Examiner for his invectives against a discarded
ministry; and the other side filled with the falsest
and vilest abuses against those who are now in the
highest power and credit with their sovereign, and
whose least breath would scatter them in silence and
obscurity. However, although I have indeed often
wondered to see so much licentiousness taken and
connived at, and am sure it would not be suffered in
any other country of Christendom, yet I never once
invoked the assistance of the gaol or pillory, which,
upon the least provocation, was the usual style during
their tyranny. There has not passed a week these
twenty years without some malicious paper scattered
in every coffeehouse by the emissaries of that party,
whether it were down or up. believe they will not
pretend to object the same thing to us: nor do I re-
member any constant weekly paper with reflections on
the late ministry or junto. They have many weak de-
fenceless parts; they have not been used to a regular
attack, and therefore it is that they are so il able to
endure one when it comes to be their turn; so that
they complain more of a few months' truths from us
than we did of all their scandal and malice for twice
as many years.
I cannot forbear observing upon this occasion
that those worthy authors I am speaking of seem to
me not fairly to represent the sentiments of their
party; who, in disputing with us, do generally give
up several of the late ministry, and freely own many
of their failings. They confess the monstrous debt
upon the navy to have been caused by most scandal-
cus mismanagement; they allow the insolence of
some, the avarice of others, to have been insupport-
able but these gentlemen are most liberal in their
praises to those persons and upon those very articles.
where their wisest friends give up the point.
gravely tell us that such a one was the most faithful
servant that ever any prince had; another the most
dutiful; a third, the most generous; a fourth, of the
greatest integrity; so that I look upon these cham-
pions rather as retained by a cabal than a party;
which I desire the reasonable men among them
would please to consider.
They
To hear some of those worthy reasoners talking of
credit, that she is so nice, so squeamish, so capri-
cious, you
would think they were describing a lady
troubled with vapours or the cholic, to be removed
only by a course of steel, or swallowing a bullet.
By the narrowness of their thoughts, one would
imagine they conceived the world to be no wider
than Exchange-alley. It is probable they may have
such a sickly dame among them; and it is well if she
has no worse diseases, considering what hands she
passes through. But the national credit is of another
complexion; of sound health and an even temper;
her life and existence being a quintessence drawn
from the vitals of the whole kingdom; and we find
these money politicians, after all their noise, to be of
the same opinion, by the court they paid her when
she lately appeared to them in the form of a lottery.
As to that mighty error in politics they charge
upon the queen for changing her ministry in the
height of war, I suppose it is only looked upon as
an error under a Whiggish administration: other-
wise the late king had much to answer for, who did
it pretty frequently. And it is well known that the
late ministry, of famous memory, was brought in
during the present war: only with this circumstance, Indignum est in ea civitate, quæ legibus continetur, discedi a
that two or three of the chief did first change their
own principles, and then took in suitable compa-
nions.
But, however, I see no reason why the Tories
should not value their wisdom by events as well as
the Whigs. Nothing was ever thought a more pre-
cipitate, rash counsel, than that of altering the coin at
the juncture it was done; yet the prudence of the
undertaking was sufficiently justified by the success.
Perhaps it will be said that the attempt was neces-
sary,
because the whole species of money was so
grievously clipped and counterfeit and is not her
majesty's authority as sacred as her coin? And has
not that been most scandalously clipped and mangled,
and often counterfeited too?
It is another grievous complaint of the Whigs,
that their late friends and the whole party are treated
with abundance of severity in print, and in particular
by the Examiner. They think it hard that, when
they are wholly deprived of power, hated by the
people, and out of all hope of establishing themselves,
their infirmities should be so often displayed, in
order to render them yet more odious to mankind.
This is what they employ their writers to set forth
in their papers of the week; and it is humorous
enough to observe one page taken up in railing at
No. 39.
THURSDAY, APRIL 26, 1711.
legibus.
It is shameful and unworthy in a state, whose support and pre-
servation is founded on laws, that the laws should be rendered
useless and evaded.
I HAVE been often considering how it comes to pass
that the dexterity of mankind in evil should always
outgrow, not only the prudence and caution of pri-
vate persons, but the continual expedience of the
wisest laws contrived to prevent it. I cannot ima-
gine a knave to possess a greater share of natural
wit or genius than an honest man. I have known
very notable sharpers at play, who upon other occa-
sions were as great dunces as human shape can well
allow; and
allow; and I believe the same might be observed
among the other knots of thieves and pickpockets
about this town. The proposition however is cer-
tainly true, and to be confirmed by a hundred in-
stances. A scrivener, an attorney, a stock-jobber,
and many other retailers of fraud, shall not only
be able to overreach others much wiser than them-
selves, but find out new inventions to elude the force
of any law made against them. I suppose the rea-
son of this may be, that, as the aggressor is said to
have generally the advantage of the defender, so the
makers of the law, which is to defend our rights,
have usually not so much industry or vigour as those
Z 2
340
THE EXAMINER.
whose interest leads them to attack it. Besides, it
rarely happens that men are rewarded by the public
for their justice and virtue; neither do those who act
upon such principles expect any recompence until
the next world; whereas fraud, where it succeeds,
gives present pay; and this is allowed the greatest
spur imaginable both to labour and invention.
When a law is made to stop some growing evil, the
wits of those whose interest it is to break it with
secrecy or impunity are immediately at work;
and
even among those who pretend to fairer characters,
many would gladly find means to avoid what they
would not be thought to violate. They desire to
reap the advantage, if possible, without the shame,
or at least without the danger. This art is what I
take that dexterous race of men, sprung up soon after
the Revolution, to have studied with great application
ever since, and to have arrived at great perfection
in. According to the doctrine of some Romish
casuists, they have found out quam propè ad peccatum
sine peccato possint accedere; they can tell how to
go within an inch of an impeachment, and yet come
back untouched. They know what degree of cor-
ruption will just forfeit an employment, and whether
the bribe you receive be sufficient to set you right,
and put something in your pocket besides; how
much to a penny you may safely cheat the queen,
whether forty, fifty, or sixty per cent., according to
the station you are in, and the dispositions of the per-
sons in office below and above you. They have com-
puted the price you may securely take or give for a
place, or what part of the salary you ought to reserve;
they can discreetly distribute five hundred pounds in
a small borough, without any danger from the sta-
tutes against bribing at elections. They can manage
a bargain for an office by a third, fourth, or fifth hand,
so that you shall not know whom to accuse; they
can win a thousand guineas at play in spite of the
dice, and send away the loser satisfied. They can
pass the most exorbitant accounts, overpay the creditor
with half his demands and sink the rest.
It would be endless to relate, or rather indeed
impossible to discover, the several arts which curious
men have found out to enrich themselves by de-
frauding the public, in defiance of the law. The
military men, both by sea and land, have equally
cultivated this most useful science; neither has it
been altogether neglected by the other sex; of
which, on the contrary, I could produce an instance
that would make ours blush to be so far outdone.
Besides, to confess the truth, our laws themselves
are extremely defective in many articles, which I
take to be one ill effect of our best possession, liberty.
Some years ago the ambassador of a great princea
was arrested, and outrages committed on his person
in our streets, without any possibility of redress from
Westminster-hall or the prerogative of the sove-
reign; and the legislature was forced to provide a
remedy against the like evils in time to come. A
commissioner of the stamped paper was lately dis-
covered to have notoriously cheated the public of
great sums for many years, by counterfeiting the
stamps, which the law has made capital; but the
aggravation of his crime proved to be the cause that
saved his life, and that additional heightening cir-
cumstance of betraying his trust was found to be a
legal defence. I am assured that the notorious
cheat of the brewers at Portsmouth, detected about
two months ago in parliament, cannot by any law
now in force be punished in any degree equal to the
guilt and infamy of it. Nay, what is almost in-
a To Peter the Great, czar of Muscovy, who was arrested for
debt by a merchant of London in the open street, and detained
in a sponging-house.
|
credible, had Guiscard survived his detestable attempt
upon Mr. Harley's person, all the inflaming circum-
stances of the fact would not have sufficed, in the
opinion of many lawyers, to have punished him
with death; and the public must have lain under
this dilemma, either to condemn him by a law ex
post facto (which would have been of dangerous con-
sequence, and form an ignominious precedent), or
undergo the mortification to see the greatest villain.
upon earth escape unpunished, to the infinite triumph
and delight of popery and faction. But even this is
not to be wondered at when we consider that, of all
the insolences offered to the queen since the act of
indemnity (at least that ever came to my ears), I can
hardly instance above two or three which by the
letter of the law could amount to high treason.
From these defects in our laws, and the want of
some discretionary power, safely lodged, to exert upon
emergencies, as well as from the great acquirements
of able men to elude the penalties of those laws they
break, it is no wonder that the injuries done to the
public are so seldom redressed. But, besides, no
individual suffers by any wrong he does to the com-
monwealth in proportion to the advantage he gains
by doing it. There are seven or eight millions who
contribute to the loss, while the whole gain is sunk
among a few. The damage suffered by the public
is not so immediately or heavily felt by particular
persons; and the zeal of prosecutions is apt to drop
and be lost among numbers.
But imagine a set of politicians for many years at
the head of affairs, the game visibly their own, and
by consequence acting with great security; may not
these be sometimes tempted to forget their caution
by length of time, by excess of avarice and ambition,
by the insolence or violence of their nature, or, per-
haps, by a mere contempt for their adversaries?
May not such motives as these put thein often upon
actions directly against the law, such as no evasions.
can be found for, and which will lay them fully open
to the vengeance of a prevailing interest whenever
they are out of power? It is answered in the af-
firmative. And here we cannot refuse the late
ministry their due praises, who, foreseeing a storm,
provided for their own safety by two admirable expe-
dients, by which, with great prudence, they have
escaped the punishments due to pernicious counsels
and corrupt management. The first was to procure,
under pretences hardly specious, a general act of in-
demity, which cuts off all impeachments. The second
was yet more refined: suppose, for instance, a counsel
is to be pursued which is necessary to carry on the
dangerous designs of a prevailing party, to preserve
them in power, to gratify the unmeasurable appetites
of a few leaders, civil and military, although by ha-
zarding the ruin of the whole nation; this counsel,
desperate in itself, unprecedented in its nature, they
procure a majority to form into an address, which
makes it look like the sense of the nation. Under
that shelter they carry on their work, and lie secure
against after-reckonings.
I must be so free to tell my meaning in this, that,
among other things, I understand it of the address
made to the queen about three years ago, to desire
that her majesty would not consent to a peace with-
out the entire restitution of Spain; a proceeding
which, to people abroad, must look like the highest
strain of temerity, folly, and gasconade. But we at
home, who allow the promoters of that advice to be
no fools, can easily comprehend the depth and mys-
tery of it. They were assured by this means to pin
down the war upon us; consequently, to increase
their own power and wealth, and multiply difficulties
on the queen and kingdom, until they had fixed their
THE EXAMINER.
341
party too firmly to be shaken whenever they should
find themselves disposed to reverse their address,
and give us leave to wish for a peace.
If any man entertains a more favourable opinion
of this monstrous step in politics, I would ask him
what we must do in case we find it impossible to
recover Spain? Those among the Whigs wno be-
lieve a God will confess that the events of war lie in
his hands; and the rest of them, who acknowledge
no such power, will allow that fortune has too great
a share in the good or ill success of military actions
to let a wise man reason upon them as if they were
entirely in his power. If Providence should think
fit to refuse success to our arms, with how ill a grace,
with what shame and confusion, shall we be obliged
to recant that precipitate address, unless the world
will be so charitable to consider that parliaments
among us differ as much as princes; and that, by
the fatal conjunction of many unhappy circum-
stances, it is very possible for our island to be repre-
sented sometimes by those who have the least pre-
tensions. So little truth or justice there is in what
some pretend to advance, that the actions of former
senates ought always to be treated with respect by
the latter; that those assemblies are all equally vene-
rable, and no one to be preferred before another;
by which argument the parliament that began the
rebellion against king Charles I., voted his trial, and
appointed his murderers, ought to be remembered
with respect.
But to return from this digression; it is very plain
that, considering the defectiveness of our laws, the
variety of cases, the weakness of the prerogative, the
power or cunning of ill-designing men, it is possible
that many great abuses may be visibly committed which
cannot be legally punished; especially if we add to
this that some inquiries might probably involve those
whom upon other accounts it is not thought con-
venient to disturb. Therefore it is very false reason-
ing, especially in the management of public affairs,
to argue that men are innocent because the law has
not pronounced them guilty.
I am apt to think it was to supply such defects as
these that satire was first introduced into the world;
whereby those whom neither religion, nor natural
virtue, nor fear of punishment, were able to keep
within the bounds of their duty, might be withheld
by the shame of having their crimes exposed to open
view in the strongest colours, and themselves ren-
dered odious to mankind. Perhaps all this may be
little regarded by such hardened and abandoned na-
tures as I have to deal with; but, next to taming or
binding a savage animal, the best service you can do
the neighbourhood is to give them warning either
to arm themselves or not come in its way.
Could I have hoped for any signs of remorse from
the leaders of that faction, I should very gladly have
changed my style, and forgot, or passed by, their
million of enormities. But they are every day more
fond of discovering their impotent zeal and malice;
witness their conduct in the city about a fortnight
ago, which had no other end imaginable beside that
of perplexing our affairs, and endeavouring to make
things desperate, that themselves may be thought
necessary. While they continue in this frantic mood
I shall not forbear to treat them as they deserve;
that is to say, as the inveterate irreconcilable enemies
to our country and its constitution.
No. 40.
THURSDAY, MAY 3, 1711.
Quis tulerit Gracchos de seditione querentes?
in vain
The Gracchi of sedition will complain.
bestowed, for soine years past, by the Whigs and
Tories upon each other. We charge the former
with a design of destroying the established church,
and introducing fanaticism and freethinking in its
stead. We accuse them as enemies to monarchy;
as endeavouring to undermine the present form of
government, and to build a commonwealth, or some
new scheme of their own, upon its ruins. On the
other side, their clamours against us may be summed
up in those three formidable words, popery, arbi-
trary power, and the pretender. Our accusations
against them we endeavour to make good by certain
overt acts; such as their perpetually abusing the
whole body of the clergy; their declared contempt
for the very order of priesthood; their aversion
against episcopacy; the public encouragement and
patronage they give to Tindal, Toland, and other
atheistical writers; their appearing as professed ad-
vocates retained by the dissenters, excusing their
separation, and laying the guilt of it to the obstinacy
of the church; their frequent endeavours to repeal
the test, and their setting up the indulgence to scru-
pulous consciences as a point of greater importance
than the established worship. The regard they bear
to our monarchy has appeared by their openly ridi-
culing the martyrdom of king Charles I. in their
calves'-head clubs, their common discourses, and
their pamphlets; their denying the unnatural war
raised against that prince to have been a rebellion
their justifying his murder in the allowed papers of
the week; their industry in publishing and spread-
ing seditious and republican tracts, such as Ludlow's
Memoirs, Sidney on Government, and many others;
their endless lopping of the prerogative, and mincing
into nothing her majesty's titles to the crown.
;
What proofs they bring for our endeavouring to
introduce popery, arbitrary power, and the pre-
tender, I cannot readily tell, and would be glad to
hear; however, these important words having, by
dexterous management, been found of mighty ser-
vice to their cause, although applied with little
colour either of reason or justice, I have been con-
sidering whether they may not be adapted to more
proper objects.
As to popery, which is the first of these; to deal
plainly, I can hardly think there is any set of men
among us, except the professors of it, who have any
direct intention to introduce it here; but the ques-
tion is, whether the principles and practices of us
or the Whigs be most likely to make way for it? It
is allowed on all hands that, among the methods
concerted at Rome for bringing over England into
the bosom of the catholic church, one of the chief
was to send jesuits and other emissaries, in lay
habits, who, personating tradesmen and mechanics,
should mix with the people, and, under the pretence
of a further and purer reformation, endeavour to di-
vide us into as many sects as possible; which would
either put us under the necessity of returning to our
old errors to preserve peace at home, or, by our
divisions, make way for some powerful neighbour,
with the assistance of the pope's permission and a
consecrated banner, to convert and enslave us at
once. If this has been reckoned good politics (and
it was the best the jesuit schools could invent), I ap-
peal to any man whether the Whigs, for many
years past, have not been employed in the very
same work? They professed on all occasions that
they knew no reason why any one system of specu-
lative opinions (as they term the doctrines of the
church) should be established by law more than
another; or why employments should be confined
to the religion of the magistrate and that called
the church established. The grand maxim they
THERE have been certain topics of reproach liberally laid down was, that no man, for the sake of a
342
THE EXAMINER.
few notions and ceremonies, under the names of
doctrine and discipline, should be denied the liberty
of serving his country: as if places would go a-beg-
ging unless Brownists, familists, sweet-singers,
sweet-singers,
quakers, anabaptists, and Muggletonians, would take
them off our hands.
I have been sometimes imagining this scheme
brought to perfection, and how diverting it would
be to see half a dozen sweet-singers on the bench in
their ermines, and two or three quakers with their
white staves at court. I can only say this project
is the very counterpart of the late king James's de-
sign, which he took up as the best method for in-
troducing his own religion, under the pretext of a
universal liberty of conscience, and that no differ-
ence in religion should make any in his favour.
Accordingly, to save appearances, he dealt some em-
ployments among dissenters of most denominations;
and what he did was, no doubt, in pursuance of the
best advice he could get at home or abroad; but the
church thought it the most dangerous step he could
take for her destruction. It is true king James ad-
mitted papists among the rest, which the Whigs
would not; but this is sufficiently made up by a ma-
terial circumstance, wherein they seem to have much
outdone that prince, and to have carried their liberty
of conscience to a higher point, having granted it to
all the classes of freethinkers (which the nice con-
science of a popish prince would not give him leave
to do), and were therein mightily overseen; because
it is agreed by the learned that there is but a very
narrow step from atheism to the other extreme, su-
perstition. So that, upon the whole, whether the
Whigs had any real design of bringing in popery or
not, it is very plain that they took the most effectual
step toward it; and if the jesuits had been their
immediate directors, they could not have taught
them better, nor have found apter scholars.
those idle people who affirm I am hired and directed
what to write, I must here inform them that their
censure is an effect of their principles. The present
ministry are under no necessity of employing prosti-
tute pens; they have no dark designs to promote by
advancing heterodox opinions.
But (to return), suppose two or three private di-
vines under king Charles the Second did a little over-
strain the doctrine of passive obedience to princes;
some allowance might be given to the memory
of that unnatural rebellion against his father, and the
dismal consequences of resistance. It is plain, by
the proceedings of the churchmen before and at
the revolution, that this doctrine was never de-
signed to introduce arbitrary power.
The
I look upon the Whigs and dissenters to be ex-
actly of the same political faith; let us therefore see
what share each of them had in advancing arbitrary
power. It is manifest that the fanatics made Crom-
well the most absolute tyrant in Christendom.
Rump abolished the house of lords, the army abo-
lished the Rump, and by this army of saints he
governed. The dissenters took liberty of conscience
and employments from the late king James, as an
acknowledgment of his dispensing power; which
makes a king of England as absolute as the Turk.
The Whigs under the late king perpetually declared
for keeping up a standing army in times of peace;
which has, in all ages, been the first and great step
to the ruin of liberty. They were besides discover-
ing every day their inclinations to destroy the rights
of the church, and declared their opinion in all com-
panies against the bishops sitting in the house of
peers; which was exactly copying after their prede-
cessors of 1641. I need not say their real intentions.
were to make the king absolute; but, whatever be
the designs of innovating men, they usually end in a
tyranny; as we may see by a hundred examples in
Greece, and in the later commonwealths of Italy
mentioned by Machiavel.
#
Their second accusation is, that we encourage and
maintain abitrary power in princes; and promote
enslaving doctrines among the people. This they go In the third place, the Whigs accuse us of a design
about to prove by instances; producing the particu- to bring in the pretender; and to give it a greater
lar opinions of certain divines in king Charles II.'s air of probability, they suppose the queen to be a
reign, a decree of Oxford university, and some few party in this design; which, however, is no very ex-
writers since the revolution. What they mean is traordinary supposition in those who have advanced
the principle of passive obedience and non-resist- such singular paradoxes concerning Greg and Guis-
ance, which those who affirm did, I believe, never card. Upon this article their charge is general,
intend should include arbitrary power. However, without ever offering to produce an instance. But I
although I am sensible that it is not reckoned pru- verily think and believe it will appear no paradox,
dent in a dispute to make any concessions without that, if ever he be brought in, the Whigs are his men.
the last necessity, yet I do agree that, in my own For, first, it is an undoubted truth that, a year or two
private opinion, some writers did carry that tenet of after the revolution, several leaders of that party
passive obedience to a height which seemed hardly had their pardons sent them by the late king James,
consistent with the liberties of a country whose and had entered upon measures to restore him, on
laws can neither be enacted nor repealed without account of some disobligation they received from
the consent of the whole people: I mean not those king William.
mean not those king William. Besides, I would ask whether those
who affirm it due in general, as it certainly is, to the who were under the greatest ties of gratitude to king
legislature; but such as fix it entirely in the prince's James are not at this day become the most zealous
person. This last has, I believe, been done by a Whigs? And of what party those are now who
very few; but when the Whigs quote authors to kept a long correspondence with St. Germains?
prove it upon us, they bring in all who mention it
as a duty in general, without applying it to princes
abstracted from their senate.
By thus freely declaring my own sentiments of
passive obedience, it will at least appear that I do
not write for a party; neither do I upon any occa-
sion pretend to speak their sentiments, but my own.
The majority of the two houses and the present
ministry (if those be a party) seem to me in all their
proceedings to pursue the real interest of church and
state; and if I should happen to differ from particu-
lar persons among them in a single notion about go-
vernment, I suppose they will not, upon that ac-
count, explode me and my paper. However, as an
answer, once for all, to the tedious scurrilities of
|
It is likewise very observable of late that the
Whigs upon all occasions profess their belief of the
pretender's being no impostor, but a real prince,
born of the late queen's body; which, whether it be
true or false, is very unseasonably advanced, con-
sidering the weight such an opinion must have with
the vulgar, if they once thoroughly believe it. Nei-
ther is it at all improbable that the pretender him-
self puts his chief hopes in the friendship he expects
from the dissenters and Whigs, by his choice to in-
vade the kingdom when the latter were most in
credit;
and he had reason to count upon the former,
from the gracious treatment they received from his
supposed father, and their joyful acceptance of it.
But further, what could be more consistent with
THE EXAMINER.
343
the Whiggish notion of a revolution principle than
to bring in the pretender? A revolution principle,
as their writings and discourses have taught us to
define it, is a principle perpetually disposing men to
revolutions; and this is suitable to the famous say-
ing of a great Whig, that the more revolutions the
better; which, how odd a maxim soever in appear-
ance, I take to be the true characteristic of the
party.
A dog loves to turn round often; yet after certain
revolutions he lies down to rest: but heads under
the dominion of the moon are for perpetual changes
and perpetual revolutions; besides, the Whigs owe
all their wealth to wars and revolutions; like the
girl at Bartholomew fair, who gets a penny by turn-
ing round a hundred times with swords in her
hands.
To conclude the Whigs have a natural faculty of
bringing in pretenders, and will therefore probably
endeavour to bring in the great one at last. How
many pretenders to wit, honour, nobility, politics,
have they brought in these last twenty years! In
short, they have been sometimes able to procure a
majority of pretenders in parliament, and wanted
nothing to render the work complete except a pre-
tender at their head.
No. 41.
THURSDAY, MAY 10, 1711.
Dos est magua parentum virtus.
The virtue of parents is a large dowry to their children.
I TOOK up a papera some days ago in a coffeehouse;
and if the correctness of the style, and a superior
spirit in it, had not immediately undeceived me, 1
should have been apt to imagine I had been reading
an Examiner. In this paper there were several im-
portant propositions advanced. For instance, "that
Providence had raised up Mr. Harley to be an in-
strument of great good, in a very critical juncture,
when it was much wanted; that his very enemies
acknowledge his eminent abilities and distinguished
merit, by their unwearied and restless endeavours
against his person and reputation; that they have
had an inveterate nalice against both; that he has
been wonderfully preserved from some unparalleled
attempts;" with more to the same purpose. I im-
mediately computed, by rules of arithmetic, that in
the last-cited words there was something more in-
tended than the attempt of Guiscard, which, I think,
can properly pass but for one of the some. And al-
though I dare not pretend to guess the author's
meaning, yet the expression allows such a latitude that
I would venture to hold a wager, most readers, both
Whig and Tory, have agreed with me that this plural
number must, in all probability, among other facts,
take in the business of Greg.
See now the difference of styles. Had I been to
have told my thoughts on this occasion, instead of
saying how Mr. Harley "was treated by some per-
sons, and preserved from some unparalleled at-
tempts," I should, with intolerable bluntness and
ill manners, have told a formal story of a committee
sent to a condemned criminal in Newgate, to bribe
him with pardon on condition he would swear high
treason against his master, who discovered his cor-
respondence and secured his person, when a certain
grave politician had given him warning to make his
escape and by this means I should have drawn a
whole swarm of hedge-writers to exhaust their cata-
logue of scurrilities against me as a liar and slan-
The speaker's congratulation of Mr. Harley in the name
of the house on his escape and recovery.
|
|
derer. But, with submission to the author of that
forementioned paper, I think he has carried that ex-
pression to the utmost it will bear; for after all this
notice I know of but two attempts against Mr.
Harley that can really be called unparalleled, which
are those aforesaid of Greg and Guiscard; and as
to the rest, I will engage to parallel them from the
story of Catiline and others I could produce.
However, I cannot but observe with infinite
pleasure that a great part of what I have charged
upon the late prevailing faction, and for affirming
which I have been adorned with so many decent
epithets, has been sufficiently confirmed at several
times by the resolutions of one or the other house
of parliament. I may therefore now say, I hope
with good authority, that there have been some un-
paralleled attempts against Mr. Harley; that the
late ministry were justly to blame in some manage-
ments, which occasioned the unfortunate battle of
Almanza and the disappointment at Toulon; that
the public has been grievously wronged by most no-
torious frauds during the Whig administration; that
those who advised the bringing in the Palatines
were enemies to the kingdom; that the late ma-
nagers of the revenue have not duly passed their
accounts for a great part of thirty-five millions, and
ought not to be trusted in such employments any
more. Perhaps in a little time I may venture to
affirm some other paradoxes of this kind, and pro-
duce the same vouchers. And perhaps also, if it
had not been so busy a period, instead of one Exa-
miner the late ministry might have had above four
hundred, each of whose little fingers would be hea-
vier than my loins. It makes me think of Neptune's
threat to the winds :—
Quos ego-sed motos præstat componere fluctus.
Thus, when the sons of Æolus had almost sunk the
ship with the tempests they raised, it was necessary
to smooth the ocean and secure the vessel, instead
of pursuing the offenders.
But I observe the general expectation at present,
instead of dwelling any longer upon conjectures who
is to be punished for past miscarriages, seems bent
upon the rewards intended to those who have been
so highly instrumental in rescuing our constitution
from its late dangers. It is the observation of Ta-
citus, in the life of Agricola, that his eminent ser-
vices had raised a general opinion of his being de-
signed by the emperor for prætor of Britain: Ňullis
in hoc suis scrmonibus, sed quia par videbatur; and
then he adds, Non semper errat fama, aliquando et
eligit. The judgment of a wise prince, and a gene-
ral disposition of the people, do often point at the
same person; and sometimes the popular wishes do
often foretel the reward intended for some superior
merit.
merit. Thus among several deserving persons there
are two whom the public vogue has in a peculiar
manner singled out, as designed very soon to receive
the choicest marks of the royal favour; one of them
to be placed in a very high station, and both to in-
crease the number of our nobility [Harley and St.
John]. This, I say, is the general conjecture; for
fulfilled; since it is enough for their honour that
I pretend to none, nor will be chargeable if it be not
the nation thinks them worthy of the greatest re-
wards.
Upon this occasion I cannot but take notice that,
of all the heresies in politics profusely scattered by
the partisans of the late administration, none ever
displeased me more, or seemed to have more dan-
gerous consequences to monarchy, than that perni-
cious talent so much affected of discovering a con-
tempt for birth, family, and ancient nobility. All
the threadbare topics of poets and orators were dis-
344
THE EXAMINER.
played to discover to us that merit and virtue were
the only nobility; and that the advantages of blood
could not make a knave or a fool either honest or
wise. Most popular commotions we read of in the
histories of Greece and Rome took their rise from
unjust quarrels to the nobles; and, in the latter, the
plebeians' encroachments on the patricians were the
first cause of their ruin.
Suppose there be nothing but opinion in the dif
ference of blood, everybody knows that authority
is very much founded on opinion. But surely that
difference is not wholly imaginary. The advan-
tages of a liberal education, of choosing the best
companions to converse with, not being under the
necessity of practising little mean tricks by a scanty
allowance, the enlarging of thought and acquiring
the knowledge of men and things by travel, the ex-
ample of ancestors inciting to great and good ac-
tions; these are usually some of the opportunities
that fall in the way of those who are born of what
we call the better families: and, allowing genius to
be equal in them and the vulgar, the odds are clearly
on their side. Nay, we may observe in some, who,
by the appearance of merit or favour of fortune, have
risen to great stations from an obscure birth, that
they have still retained some sordid vices of their
parentage or education; either insatiable avarice or
ignominious falsehood and corruption.
To say the truth, the great neglect of education in
several noble families, whose sons are suffered to
pass the most improvable seasons of their youth in
vice and idleness, have too much lessened their re-
putation: but even this misfortune we owe, among
all the rest, to that Whiggish practice of reviling the
universities, under the pretence of their instilling
pedantry, narrow principles, and high-church doc-
trines.
I would not be thought to undervalue merit and
virtue, wherever they are to be found, but will
allow them capable of the highest dignities in a state
when they are in a very great degree of eminence.
A pearl holds its value, though it be found in a
dunghill; but, however, that is not the most proba-
ble place to search for it. Nay, I will go further,
and admit that a man of quality, without merit, is
just so much the worse for his quality; which at
once sets his vices in a more public view, and re-
proaches him for them. But on the other side, I
doubt those who are always undervaluing the advan-
tages of birth, and celebrating personal merit, have
principally an eye to their own, which they are
fully satisfied with, and which nobody will dispute
with them about; whereas they cannot, without im-
pudence and folly, pretend to be nobly born: be-
cause this is a secret too easily discovered: for no
men's parentage is so nicely inquired into as that of
assuming upstarts, especially when they affect to
make it better than it is (as they often do), or be-
have themselves with insolence.
But whatever may be the opinion of others upon
this subject, whose philosophical scorn for blood and
families reaches even to those that are royal, or per-
haps took its rise from a Whiggish contempt of the
latter, I am pleased to find two such instances of
extraordinary merit as I have mentioned joined
with ancient and honourable birth; which, whether
it be of real or imaginary value, has been held in
veneration by all wise polite states, both ancient and
modern. And as much a foppery as men pretend to
think it, nothing is more observable in those who
rise to great place or wealth from mean originals
than their mighty solicitude to convince the world
that they are not so low as is commonly believed.
They are glad to find it made out, by some strained
genealogy, that they have a remote alliance with
better families. Cromwell himself was pleased with
the impudence of a flatterer who undertook to
prove him descended from a branch of the royal
stem. I know a citizen who adds or alters a letter
in his name with every plum he acquires; he now
wants only the change of a vowela to be allied to a
sovereign prince in Italy; and that perhaps he may
contrive to be done by a mistake of the graver upon
his tombstone.
When I am upon this subject of nobility I am
sorry for the occasion given me to mention the loss
of a person who is so great an ornament to it as
the late lord-president [earl of Rochester], who be-
gan early to distinguish himself in the public service,
and passed through the highest employments of
state, in the most difficult times, with great abilities
and untainted honour. As he was of a good old
age, his principles of religion and loyalty had re-
ceived no mixture from late infusions, but were
instilled into him by his illustrious father and other
noble spirits, who had exposed their lives and for-
tunes for the royal martyr;—
Pulcherrima proles,
Magnanimi heroes nati melioribus annis.
His first great action was like Scipio, to defend
his father when oppressed by numbers; and his
filial piety was not only rewarded with long life,
but with a son who, upon the like occasion, would
have shown the same resolution. No man ever pre-
served his dignity better when he was out of power,
nor showed more affability while he was in.
conclude, his character (which I do not here pretend
to draw) is such as his nearest friends may safely
trust to the most impartial pen; nor wants the least
of that allowance which, they say, is required for
those who are dead.
No. 42.
THURSDAY, MAY 17, 1711.
Quem cur distringere coner,
Tutus ab infestis latronibus?
Safe it lies
To
Within the sheath, till thieves and villains rise.
I NEVER let slip an opportunity of endeavouring to
convince the world that I am not partial, and to
confound the idle reproach of my being hired or
directed what to write in defence of the present
ministry, or for detecting the practices of the former.
When I first undertook this paper I firmly resolved
that if ever I observed any gross neglect, abuse, or
corruption in the public management, which might
give any just offence to reasonable people, I would
take notice of it with that innocent boldness which
becomes an honest man and a true lover of his
country; at the same time preserving the respect
due to persons so highly intrusted by so wise and
excellent a queen. I know not how such a liberty
might have been resented; but I thank God there
has been no occasion given me to exercise it: for I
can safely affirm that I have with the utmost rigour
examined all the actions of the present ministry, as
far as they fall under general cognisance, without
being able to accuse them of one ill or mistaken
step. Observing, indeed, some time ago, that seeds
of dissension had been plentifully scattered from a
certain corner, and fearing they began to rise and
spread, I immediately writ a paper on the subject,
which I treated with that warmth I thought it re-
quired; but the prudence of those at the helm soon
prevented this growing evil, and at present it seems
likely to have no consequences.
Sir Henry Furnese.
b Farnese.
THE EXAMINER.
345
I
I have had indeed for some time a small occasion
of quarrelling, which I thought too inconsiderable
for a formal subject of complaint, although I have
hinted at it more than once. But it is grown at pre-
sent to as great a height as a matter of that nature
can possibly bear; and therefore I conceive it high
time that an effectual stop should be put to it.
have been amazed at the flaming licentiousness of
several weekly papers, which, for some months past,
have been chiefly employed in barefaced scurrilities
against those who are in the greatest trust and favour
with the queen, with the first and last letters of their
names frequently printed, or some periphrasis de-
scribing their station, or other innuendoes contrived
too plain to be mistaken. The consequence of
which is (and it is natural it should be so) that
their long impunity has rendered them still more
audacious.
a
At this time I particularly intend a paper called
the Medley, whose indefatigable incessant railings
against me I never thought convenient to take notice
of, because it would have diverted my design, which
I intended to be of public use. Besides, I never yet
observed that writer, or those writers (for it is every
way a Medley), to argue against any one material
point or fact that I had advanced, or make one fair
quotation. And after all, I knew very well how
soon the world grow weary of controversy. It is
plain to me that three or four hands at least have
been joined at times in that worthy composition;
but the outlines, as well as the finishing, seem to
have been always the work of the same pen, as it is
visible from half a score beauties of style inseparable
from it. But who these meddlers are, or where the
judicious leaders have picked them up, I shall never
go about to conjecture: factious rancour, false wit,
abandoned scurrility, impudent falsehood, and ser-
vile pedantry, having so many fathers and so few to
own them, that curiosity herself would not be at the
pains to guess. It is the first time I ever did myself
the honour to mention that admirable paper; nor
could I imagine any occasion likely to happen that
would make it necessary for me to engage with such
an adversary. This paper is weekly published, and,
as appears by the number, has been so for several
months ; and is, next to the Observator, allowed to
be the best production of the party. Last week my
printer brought me that of May 7, No. 32, where
there are two paragraphs relating to the speaker of
the house of commons, and to Mr. Harley, which,
as little as I am inclined to engage with such an an-
tagonist, I cannot let pass without failing in my duty
to the public; and if those in power will suffer such
infamous insinuations to pass with impunity, they
act without precedent from any age or country of
the world.
I desire to open this matter, and leave the Whigs
themselves to determine upon it. The house of
commons resolved, nemine contradicente, that the
speaker should congratulate Mr. Harley's escape
and recovery, in the name of the house, upon his
first attendance on their service. This is accord-
ingly done; and the speech, together with the
chancellor of the exchequer's, are printed by order
of the house. The author of the Medley takes this
speech to task the very next week after it is pub-
lished; telling us in the aforesaid paper that the
speaker's commending Mr. Harley for being an in-
strument of great good to the nation was ill-chosen
flattery; because Mr. Harley had brought the nation
under great difficulties, to say no more. He says
that, when the speaker tells Mr. Harley that Pro-
vidence has wonderfully preserved him from some
• Published in answer to the Examiner.
|
unparalleled attempts (for that the Medley alludes
to), he only revives a false and groundless calumny
upon other men, which is an instance of impotent
but inveterate malice, that makes him (the speaker)
still appear more vile and contemptible. This is an
extract from his first paragraph. In the next, this
writer says that the speaker's praying to God for the
continuance of Mr. Harley's life, as an invaluable
blessing, was a fulsome piece of insincerity, which
exposes him to shame and derision: because he is
known to bear ill will to Mr. Harley, to have au
extreme bad opinion of him, and to think him an
obstructor of those fine measures he would bring
about.
I now appeal to the Whigs themselves whether a
great minister of state, in high favour with the
queen, and a speaker of the house of commons, were
ever publicly treated after so extraordinary a man-
ner in the most licentious times? For this is not a
clandestine libel stolen into the world, but openly
printed and sold with the bookseller's name and
place of abode at the bottom: and the juncture is
admirable, when Mr. Harley is generally believed
upon the very point to be made an earl, and pro-
moted to the most important station of the king-
dom; nay, the very marks of esteem he has so lately
received from the whole representative body of the
people are called ill-chosen flattery, and a fulsome
piece of insincerity, exposing the donors to shame
and derision.
Did
Does this intrepid writer think he has sufficiently
disguised the matter by that stale artifice of altering
the story, and putting it as a supposed case?
any man who ever saw the congratulatory speech
read either of those paragraphs in the Medley with-
out interpreting them just as I have done? Will
the author declare upon his great sincerity that he
never had any such meaning? Is it enough that a
jury at Westminster-hall would perhaps not find him
guilty of defaming the speaker and Mr. Harley in
that paper? which, however, I am much in doubt of
too; and must think the law very defective if the
reputation of such persons must lie at the mercy of
such pens. I do not remember to have seen any
libel, supposed to be writ with caution and double
meaning in order to prevent prosecution, delivered
under so thin a cover, or so unartificially made up,
as this; whether it were from an apprehension of
He
his readers' dulness, or an effect of his own.
has transcribed the very phrases of the speaker, and
put them in a different character, for fear they might
pass unobserved, and prevent all possibility of being
mistaken.
I shall be pleased to see him have re-
course to the old evasion, and say that I who make
the application am chargeable with the abuse; let
any reader of either party be judge. But I cannot
forbear asserting as my opinion, that for a ministry
to endure such open calumny, without calling the
And this
author to account, is next to deserving it.
is an omission I venture to charge upon the present
ministry, who are too apt to despise little things,
which, however, have not always little conse-
quences.
When this paper was first undertaken, one design
among others was, to examine some of those writings
so frequently published with an evil tendency either
to religion or government; but I was long diverted
by other inquiries, which I thought more imme-
diately necessary; to animadvert upon men's ac-
tions, rather than their speculations; to show the
necessity there was of changing the ministry, that
our constitution in church and state might be pre-
served; to expose some dangerous principles and
| practices under the former administration, and prove
346
THE EXAMINER.
by many instances that those who are now at the
helm are entirely in the true interest of prince and
people. This I may modestly hope has in some
measure been already done, sufficient to answer the
end proposed, which was to inform the ignorant
and those at a distance, and to convince such as
are engaged in party from no other motive than that
of conscience. I know not whether I shall have
any appetite to continue this work much longer; if
I do, perhaps some time may be spent in exposing
and overturning the false reasonings of those who
engage their pens on the other side, without losing
time in vindicating myself against their scurrilities,
much less in retorting them. Of this sort there is a
certain humble companion, a French maitre des
langues [Abel Boyer], who every month publishes
an extract from votes, newspapers, speeches, and
proclamations, larded with some insipid remarks of
his own, which he calls "The Political State of
"The Political State of
Great Britain." This ingenious piece, he tells us
himself, is constantly translated into French, and
printed in Holland, where the Dutch, no doubt,
conceive most noble sentiments of us, conveyed
through such a vehicle. It is observable in his ac-
count for April that the vanity so predominant in
many of his nation has made him more concerned
for the honour of Guiscard than the safety of Mr.
Harley. And for fear we should think the worse of
his country upon that assassin's account, he tells us
there have been more murders, parricides, and vil-
lanies committed in England than in any other part
of the world. I cannot imagine how an illiterate
foreigner, who is neither master of our language,
nor, indeed, of common sense, and who is devoted
to a faction I suppose for no other reason but his
having more Whig customers than Tories, should
take it into his head to write politic tracts of our
affairs. But I presume he builds upon the founda-
tion of having been called to an account for his in-
solence in one of his monthly former productions,
which is a method that seldom fails of giving some
vogue to the foolishest composition. If such a work
must be done, I wish some tolerable hand would
undertake it; and that we would not suffer a little
whiffling Frenchman to neglect his trade of teaching
his language to our children, and presume to instruct
foreigners in our politics.
No. 43.
THURSDAY, MAY 24, 1711.
Delicta majorum immeritus lues,
Romane, donec templa refeceris,
Adesque labentes deorum.
You of your father's crimes the guilt shall bear,
Unless the sacred temples you repair.
SEVERAL letters have been lately sent me, desiring I
would make honourable mention of the pious design
of building fifty churches in several parts of London
and Westminster, where they are most wanted, occa-
sioned by an address of the convocation to the queen,
and recommended by her majesty to the house of
commons, who immediately promised they would
enable her to accomplish so excellent a design, and
are now preparing a bill accordingly. I thought to
have deferred any notice of this important affair
until the end of the session; at which time I pro-
posed to deliver a particular account of the great and
useful things already performed by this present par-
liament. But, in compliance to those who give
themselves the trouble of advising me, and partly
convinced by the reasons they offer, I am content to
bestow a paper upon a subject that, indeed, so well
deserves it.
The clergy, and whoever else have a true concern
for the constitution of the church, cannot but be
highly pleased with one prospect in this new scene
of public affairs. They may very well remember
the time when every session of parliament was like
a cloud hanging over their heads; and if it happened
to pass without bursting into some storm upon the
church, we thanked God, and, thought it a happy
escape until the next meeting; upon which we re-
sumed our secret apprehensions, although we were
not allowed to believe any danger. Things are now
altered; the parliament takes the necessities of the
church into consideration, receives the proposals of
the clergy met in convocation, and amid all the
exigencies of a long expensive war, and under the
pressure of heavy debts, finds a supply for erecting
fifty edifices for the service of God. And it appears
by the address of the commons to her majesty upon
this occasion (wherein they discovered a true spirit of
religion), that applying the money granted to accom-
plish so excellent a design would, in their opinion,
be the most effectual way of carrying on the war;
that it would (to use their own words) be a means
of drawing down blessings on her majesty's under-
takings, as it adds to the number of those places
where the prayers of her devout and faithful subjects
will be daily offered up to God for the prosperity of
her government at home and the success of her
arms abroad.
I am sometimes hoping that we are not naturally
so bad a people as we have appeared for some years
past. Faction, in order to support itself, is generally
forced to make use of such abominable instruments,
that, as long as it prevails, the genius of a nation is
overpressed, and cannot appear to exert itself; but,
when that is broken and suppressed, when things
return to the old course, mankind will naturally fall
to act from principles of reason and religion. The
Romans, upon a great victory or escape from public
danger, frequently built a temple in honour of some
god, to whose peculiar favour they imputed their
success or delivery; and sometimes the general did
the like, at his own expense, to acquit himself of
some pious vow he had made. How little of any-
thing resembling this has been done by us after all
our victories! And perhaps for that reason, among
But
others, they have turned to so little account.
what could we expect? We acted all along as if we
believed nothing of a God, or his providence; and,
therefore, it was consistent to offer up our edifices.
only to those whom we looked upon as givers of all
victory in his stead.
I have computed that fifty churches may be built,
by a medium, at six thousand pounds for a church,
which is somewhat under the price of a subject's
palace; yet, perhaps, the care of above two hundred
thousand souls, with the benefit of their prayers for
the prosperity of their queen and country, may be
almost put in the balance with the domestic conve-
nience, or even magnificence, of any subject what-
soever.
Sir William Petty, who, under the name of capt.
Graunt, published some observations upon the bills
of mortality above five years after the restoration,
tells us the parishes in London were even then so
unequally divided, that some were two hundred
times larger than others. Since that time the in-
crease of trade, the frequency of parliaments, the de-
sire of living in the metropolis, together with that
genius for building which began after the fire, and
has ever since continued, have prodigiously enlarged
this town on all sides where it was capable of in-
crease; and those tracts of land built into streets.
have generally continued of the same parish they
THE EXAMINER.
347
belonged to while they lay in fields; so that the care
of about thirty thousand souls has been sometimes
committed to one minister, whose church would
hardly contain the twentieth part of his flock;
neither, I think, was any family in those parishes
obliged to pay above a groat a-year to their spiritual
pastor. Some few of those parishes have been since
divided; in others were erected chapels of ease,
where a preacher is maintained by general contribu-
tion. Such poor shifts and expedients, to the infi-
nite shame and scandal of so vast and flourishing a
city, have been thought sufficient for the service of
God and religion, as if they were circumstances
wholly indifferent.
This defect, among other consequences of it, has
made schism a sort of necessary evil; there being at
least three hundred thousand inhabitants in this
town whom the churches would not be able to con-
tain if the people were ever so well disposed: and
in a city not overstocked with zeal, the only way to
preserve any degree of religion is to make all attend-
ance upon the duties of it as easy and cheap as pos-
sible: whereas, on the contrary, in the larger parishes,
the press is so great, and the pew-keepers' tax so ex-
orbitant, that those who love to save trouble and
money either stay at home or retire to the conven-
ticles. I believe there are few examples in any
christian country of so great a neglect of religion;
and the dissenting teachers have made their advan-
tage largely by it, sowing tares among the wheat
while men slept, being much more expert at pro-
curing contributions, which is a trade they are bred
up in, than men of a liberal education.
One
And, to say truth, the way practised by several
parishes in and about this town of maintaining
their clergy by voluntary subscriptions is not only
an indignity to the character, but has many perni-
cious consequences attending it; such a precarious
dependence subjecting a clergyman who has not
more than ordinary spirit and resolution to many
inconveniences which are obvious to imagine ; but
this defect will, no doubt, be remedied by the wis-
dom and piety of the present parliament, and a tax
laid upon every house in a parish for the support of
their pastor. Neither, indeed, can it be conceived
why a house, whose purchase is not reckoned above
one-third less than land of the same yearly rent,
should not pay a twentieth part annually (which is
half tithe) to the support of the minister.
thing I could wish, that, in fixing the maintenance
to the several ministers in these new intended
parishes, no determinate sum of money may be
named; which, in all perpetuities, ought by any
means to be avoided; but rather a tax in proportion
to the rent of each house, although it be but a twen-
tieth or even a thirtieth part. The contrary of this,
I am told, was done in several parishes of the city
after the fire, where the incumbent and his succes-
sors were to receive for ever a certain sum: for ex-
ample, one or two hundred pounds a-year. But
the lawgivers did not consider that what we call at
present one hundred pounds will not, in process of
time, have the intrinsic value of twenty; as twenty
pounds now are hardly equal to forty shillings three
hundred years ago. There are a thousand instances
of this all over England, in reserved rents applied to
hospitals, in old chiefries, and even among the clergy
themselves, in those payments which I think they
call a modus.
As no prince had ever better dispositions than her
present majesty for the advancement of true religion,
so there never was any age that produced greater
occasions to employ them on. It is an unspeakable
misfortune, that any design of so excellent a queen
should be checked by the necessities of a long and
ruinous war, which the folly or corruption of modern
politicians have involved us in, against all the max-
ims whereby our country flourished so many hun-
dred years; else her majesty's care of religion would
certainly have reached even to her American plant-
ations. Those noble countries, stocked by num-
bers from hence, whereof too many are in no very
great reputation for faith or morals, will be a perpe-
tual reproach to us until some better care be taken
for cultivating christianity among them. If the
governors of those several colonies were obliged, at
certain times, to transmit an exact representation of
the state of religion in their several districts, and the
legislature here would, in a time of leisure, take
that affair under their consideration, it might be
perfected with little difficulty, and be a great addition
to the glories of her majesty's reign.
But, to wave further speculations upon so remote
a scene, while we have subjects enough to employ
them on at home; it is to be hoped the clergy will
not let slip any proper opportunity of improving the
pious dispositions of the queen and kingdom for the
advantage of the church; when, by the example of
times past, they consider how rarely such conjunc-
tures are likely to happen. What if some method were
thought on toward the repairing of churches; for
which there is likely to be too frequent occasion,
those ancient Gothic structures throughout this
kingdom going every year to decay? That expedient
of repairing or rebuilding them by charitable collec-
tions seems in my opinion not very suitable either
to the dignity and usefulness of the work, or to the
honour of our country; since it might be so easily
done, with very little charge to the public, in a much
more decent and honourable manner, while parlia-
ments are so frequently called. But these and
other regulations must be left to a time of peace,
which I shall humbly presume to wish may soon be
our share, however offensive it may be to any, either
abroad or at home, who are gainers by the war.
No. 44.
THURSDAY, MAY 31, 1711.
Scilicet, ut posses curvo dignoscere rectum.
That hence you may distinguish right from wrong.
HAVING been forced in my papers to use the cant
words of Whig and Tory, which have so often
varied their significations for twenty years past, I
think it necessary to say something of the several
changes those two terms have undergone since that
period; and then to tell the reader what I have
always understood by each of them since I under-
took this work. I reckon that these sorts of con-
ceited appellations are usually invented by the
vulgar; who, not troubling themselves to examine
thoroughly the merits of a cause, are consequently
the most violent partisans of what they espouse, and
in their quarrels usually proceed to their beloved
argument of calling names, until at length they light
upon one which is sure to stick and in time each
party grows proud of that appellation, which their
adversaries at first intended for a reproach. Of this
kind were the Prasini and Veneti, the Guelphs and
Gibelines, huguenots and papists, Roundheads and
Cavaliers, with many others of ancient and modern
date. Among us of late there seems to have been a
barrenness of invention in this point; the words
Whig and Tory, although
Whig and Tory, although they be not much above
thirty years old, having been pressed to the service
of many successions of parties, with very different
ideas fastened to them. This distinction, I think,
began toward the latter part of king Charles II.'s
348
THE EXAMINER.
reign, was dropped during that of his successor, and
then revived at the revolution; since which it has
perpetually flourished, although applied to very dif-
ferent kinds of principles and persons. In that
convention of lords and commons, some of both
houses were for a regency to the prince of Orange,
with a reservation of style and title to the absent
king, which should be made use of in all public
acts: others, when they were brought to allow the
throne vacant, thought the succession should im-
mediately go to the next heir, according to the
fundamental laws of the kingdom, as if the last king
were actually dead. And although the dissenting
lords (in whose house the chief opposition was) did
at last yield both those points, took the oaths to the
new king, and many of them employments, yet they
were looked upon with an evil eye by the warm
zealots of the other side; neither did the court ever
heartily favour any of them, although some of them
were of the most eminent for abilities and virtue,
and served that prince both in his councils and his
army with untainted faith. It was apprehended at
the same time, and perhaps it might have been true,
that many of the clergy would have been better
pleased with the scheme of a regency, or at least an
uninterrupted lineal succession, for the sake of
those whose consciences were truly scrupulous; and
they thought there were some circumstances in the
case of the deprived bishops that looked a little
hard, or at least deserved commiseration.
These and other the like reflections did, as I
conceive, revive the denominations of Whig and Tory.
Some time after the revolution the distinction of
high and low church came in, which was raised by
the dissenters in order to break the church party by
dividing the members into high and low; and the
opinions raised, that the high joined with the pa-
pists, inclined the low to fall in with the dissenters.
Το
And here I shall take leave to produce some prin-
ciples which, in the several periods of the late
reign, served to denote a man of one or the other
party. To be against a standing army in time of
peace was all high-church, Tory, and Tantivy; to
differ from a majority of bishops was the same.
raise the prerogative above law for serving a turn
was low-church and Whig. The opinion of the
majority in the house of commons, especially of the
country party or landed interest, was high-flying
and rank Tory. To exalt the king's supremacy
beyond all precedent was low-church, Whiggish,
and moderate. To make the least doubt of the
pretended prince's being suppositious, and a tiler's
son, was in their phrase top and topgallant, and
perfect jacobitism. To resume the most exorbitant
grants that were ever given to a set of profligate
favourites, and apply them to the public, was the
very quintessence of Toryism; notwithstanding
those grants were known to be acquired by sacri-
ficing the honour and the wealth of England.
In most of these principles the two parties seem
to have shifted opinions since their institution
under king Charles II., and, indeed, to have gone
very different from what was expected from each,
even at the time of the revolution. But as to that
concerning the pretender, the Whigs have so far
renounced it, that they are grown the great advo-
cates for his legitimacy; which gives me the oppor-
tunity of vindicating a noble duke, who was accused
of a blunder in the house, when, upon a certain
lord's mentioning the pretended prince, his grace
told the lords he must be plain with them, and call
that person not the pretended prince, but the pre-
tended impostor; which was so far from a blunder
in that polite lord, as his ill-willers give out, that it
|
|
was only a refined way of delivering the avowed
sentiments of his whole party.
But to return; this was the state of principles
when the queen came to the crown; some time
after which, it pleased certain great persons, who
had been all their lives in the altitude of Tory pio-
fession, to enter into a treaty with the Whigs, from
whom they could get better terms than from their
old friends, who began to be resty, and would not
allow monopolies of power and favour, nor consent
to carry on the war entirely at the expense of this
nation, that they might have pensions from abroad ;
while another people, more immediately concerned
in the war, traded with the enemy as in times of
peace; whereas the other party, whose case appeared
then as desperate, was ready to yield to any condi-
tions that would bring them into play. And I can-
not help affirming that this nation was made a sa-
crifice to the unmeasurable appetite of power and
wealth in a very few that shall be nameless, who, in
every step they made, acted directly against what
they had always professed. And if his royal high-
ness [prince George of Denmark] had died some
years sooner (who was a perpetual check in their
career), it is dreadful to think how far they might
have proceeded.
Since that time the bulk of the Whigs appears
rather to be linked to a certain set of persons than
any certain set of principles; so that, if I were to
define a member of that party, I should say he was
one who believed in the late ministry. And there-
fore whatever I have affirmed of Whigs in any of
these papers, or objected against them, ought to be
understood, either of those who were partisans of the
late men in power, and privy to their designs; or
such who joined with them from a hatred to our
monarchy and church, as unbelievers and dissenters
of all sizes; or men in office, who had been guilty of
| much corruption, and dreaded a change which would
not only put a stop to further abuses for the future,
but might perhaps introduce examinations of what
was past; or those who had been too highly obliged
to quit their supporters with any common decency;
or lastly, the money-traders, who could never hope
to make their markets so well of premiums, and ex-
orbitant interest, and high remittances, under any
other administration.
|
Under these heads may be reduced the whole body
of those whom I have all along understood for Whigs;
for I do not include within this number any of those
who have been misled by ignorance, or seduced by
plausible pretences, to think better of that sort of
men than they deserve, and to apprehend mighty
danger from their disgrace; because I believe the
greatest part of such well-meaning people are now
thoroughly converted.
And, indeed, it must be allowed that the two fan-
tastic names of Whig and Tory have at present very
little relation to those opinions which were at first
thought to distinguish them. Whoever formerly pro-
fessed himself to approve the revolution, to be against
the pretender, to justify the succession in the house
of Hanover, to think the British monarchy not ab-
solute, but limited by laws which the executive
power could not dispense with, and to allow an in-
dulgence to scrupulous consciences; such man was
content to be called a Whig. On the other side,
whoever asserted the queen's hereditary right, that
the persons of princes were sacred, their lawful
authority not to be resisted on any pretence, nor
even their usurpations without the most extreme
necessity, that breaches in the succession were highly
dangerous, that schism was a great evil, both in itself
and its consequences, that the ruin of the church
THE EXAMINER.
349
would probably be attended with that of the state,
that no power should be trusted with those who are
not of the established religion; such a man was
usually called a Tory. Now, although the opinions
of both these are very consistent, and, I really think,
are maintained at present by a great majority of the
kingdom, yet, according as men apprehend the danger
greater, either from the pretender and his party, or
from the violence and cunning of other enemies to
the constitution, so their common discourses and
reasonings turn either to the first or second set of
these opinions I have mentioned; and they are con-
sequently styled either Whigs or Tories. Which is
as if two brothers apprehended their house would
be set upon, but disagreed about the place whence
they thought the robbers would come, and therefore
would go on different sides to defend it; they must
needs weaken and expose themselves by such a sepa-
ration; and so did we, only our case was worse, for
in order to keep off a weak remote enemy, from
whom we could not suddenly apprehend any danger,
we took a nearer and a stronger one into the house.
I make no comparison at all between the two ene-
mies; popery and slavery are, without doubt, the
greatest and most dreadful of any; but I may venture
to affirm that the fears of these have not, at least
since the revolution, been so close and pressing
upon us as that from another faction, excepting only
one short period, when the leaders of that very fac-
tion invited the abdicating king to return, of which
I have formerly taken notice.
appeared so great to me, from such a noise and show
of opposition, that I thought nothing but the absolute
necessity of affairs could ever justify so daring an
attempt. But a wise and good prince, at the head
of an able ministry and of a senate freely chosen, ail
united to pursue the true interest of their country,
is a power against which the little inferior politics of
any faction will be able to make no long resistance.
To this we may add one additional strength, which,
in the opinion of our adversaries, is the greatest and
justest of any; I mean the vox populi, so indisputably
declarative on the same side. I am apt to believe,
when these discarded politicians begin seriously to
consider all this, they will think it proper to give out,
and reserve their wisdom for some more convenient
juncture.
It is pleasant enough to observe that those who
were the chief instruments of raising the noise, who
started fears, bespoke dangers, and formed ominous
prognostics, in order to scare the allies, to spirit the
French, and fright ignorant people at home, made
use of those very opinions themselves had broached
for arguments to prove that the change of ministers
was dangerous and unseasonable. But if a house be
swept, the more occasion there is for such a work,
the more dust it will raise; if it be going to ruin, the
repairs, however necessary, will make a noise and
disturb the neighbourhood a while. And as to the
rejoicings made in France, if it be true that they had
any, upon the news of those alterations among us,
their joy was grounded upon the same hopes with
that of the Whigs, who comforted themselves that
the change of ministry and parliament would infal-
and destroy our credit, wherein I suppose by this
time they are equally undeceived.
Having thus declared what sort of persons I have
always meant under the denomination of Whigs, it
will be easy to show whom I understand by Tories.libly put us all into confusion, increase our divisions,
Such whose principles in church and state are what
I have above related; whose actions are derived
thence, and who have no attachment to any set of
ministers further than as they are friends to the con-
stitution in all its parts; but who will do their
utmost to save their prince and country, whoever be
at the helm.
By these descriptions of Whig and Tory, I am
sensible those names are given to several persons
very undeservedly; and that many a man is called
by one or the other who has not the least title to the
blame or praise I have bestowed on each of them
throughout my papers.
No. 45.
THURSDAY, JUNE 7, 1711.
Magna vis est, magnum nomen, unum et idem sentientis senatus.
Great is the name and authority of a sonate in which unanimity
prevails.
WHOEVER calls to mind the clamour and the calumny,
the artificial fears and jealousies, the shameful mis-
representation of persons and of things, that were
raised and spread by the leaders and instruments of
a certain party upon the change of the last ministry
and dissolution of the parliament, if he be a true
lover of his country, must feel a mighty pleasure,
although mixed with some indignation, to see the
wishes, the conjectures, the endeavours of an in-
veterate faction entirely disappointed, and this im-
portant period wholly spent in restoring the pre-
rogative of the prince, and liberty to the subject;
in reforming past abuses, and preventing future;
supplying old deficiencies, providing for debts, re-
storing the clergy to their rights, and taking care of
the necessities of the church; and all this unattended
with any of those misfortunes which some men hoped
for, while they pretended to fear.
For my own part, I must confess the difficulties
But this long session being in a manner ended,
which several circumstances, and one accident alto-
gether unforeseen, have drawn out beyond the usual
time, it may be some small piece of justice to so
excellent an assembly barely to mention a few of
those great things they have done for the service of
their queen and country, which I shall take notice
of just as they come to my memory.
The credit of the nation began mightily to suffer
by a discount upon exchequer-bills, which have been
generally reckoned the surest and most sacred of all
securities. The present lord-treasurer, then a mem-
ber of the house of commons, proposed a method,
which was immediately complied with, of raising
them to a par with species; and so they have ever
since continued.
The British colonies of Nevis and St. Christopher's
had been miserably plundered by the French, their
houses burnt, their plantations destroyed, and many
of the inhabitants carried away prisoners; they had
often, for some years past, applied in vain for relief
from hence, until the present parliament, considering
their condition as a case of justice and mercy, voted
them one hundred thousand pounds by way of re-
compence in some manner for their sufferings.
Some persons whom the voice of the nation au-
thorises me to call her enemies, taking advantage of
the general naturalization act, had invited over a
great number of foreigners of all religions, under
the name of Palatines, who understood no trade or
handicraft, yet rather chose to beg than labour, who,
beside infesting our streets, bred contagious diseases,
by which we lost in natives thrice the number of
what we gained in foreigners. The house of com-
mons, as a remedy against this evil, brought in a bill
for repealing that act of general naturalization, which,
to the surprise of most people, was rejected by the
lords. And upon this occasion I must allow myself
350
THE EXAMINER.
to have been justly rebuked by one of my weekly
monitors, for pretending in a former paper to hope
that law would be repealed, wherein the commons
being disappointed, took care however to send many
of the Palatines away, and to represent their being
invited over as a pernicious counsel.
ance; neither lo I pretend farther in the compass of
this paper than to give the world some general,
however imperfect, idea, how worthily this great as-
sembly has discharged the trust of those who so
freely chose them; and what we may reasonably
hope and expect from the piety, courage, wisdom,
and loyalty of such excellent patriots, in a time so
fruitful of occasions to exert the greatest abilities.
And now I conceive the main design I had in
jority of the nation is at length thoroughly convinced
that the queen proceeded with the highest wisdom
in changing her ministry and parliament; that under
a former administration the greatest abuses of all
kinds were committed, and the most dangerous at-
tempts against the constitution for some time in-
tended. The whole kingdom finds the present
persons in power directly and openly pursuing the
true service of their queen and country; and to be
such whom their most bitter enemies cannot tax
with bribery, covetousness, ambition, pride, iuso-
lence, or any pernicious principles in religion or
government.
The qualification-bill, incapacitating all men to
serve in parliament who have not some estate in land
either in possession or certain reversion, is perhaps
the greatest security that ever was contrived for pre-writing these papers is fully executed. A great ma-
serving the constitution, which otherwise might in a
little time lie wholly at the mercy of the moneyed
interest. And since much the greatest part of the
taxes is paid either immediately from land or from
its productions, it is but common justice that those
who are the proprietors should appoint what portion
of it ought to go to the support of the public; other-
wise the engrossers of money would be apt to lay
would be apt to lay
heavy loads on others, which themselves never touch
with one of their fingers.
The public debts were so prodigiously increased
by the negligence and corruption of those who had
been managers of the revenue, that the late ministers,
like careless men who run out their fortunes, were
so far from any thoughts of payment that they had
not the courage to state or compute them. The
parliament found that thirty-five millions had never
been accounted for; and that the debt on the navy,
wholly unprovided for, amounted to nine millions.
The late chancellor of the exchequer [earl of Oxford],
suitable to his transcendent genius for public affairs,
proposed a fund to be security for that immense
debt, which is now confirmed by a law, and is likely
to prove the greatest restoration and establishment
of the kingdom's credit. Not content with this,
the legislature has appointed commissioners of ac-
compts to inspect into past mismanagements of the
public money, and prevent them for the future.
I have in a former paper mentioned the act for
building fifty new churches in London and West-
minster, with a fund appropriated for that pious and
noble work. But while I am mentioning acts of
piety, it would be unjust to conceal my lord high-
treasurer's concern for religion, which has extended
even to another kingdom; his lordship having some
mouths ago obtained of her majesty the first-fruits
and tenths to the clergy of Ireland, as he is known
to have before done to that reverend body here.
The act for carrying on a trade to the South Sea,
proposed by the same great person, whose thoughts
are perpetually employed, and ever with success, on
the good of his country, will, in all probability, if
duly executed, be of mighty advantage to the king-
dom, and an everlasting honour to the present par-
liament.
I might
I might go on further and mention that season-
able law against excessive gaming, and putting a
stop to that scandalous fraud of false musters in the
guards; the diligent and effectual inquiry made by
the commons into several gross abuses. I might
produce many instances of their impartial justice in
deciding controverted elections, against former ex-
ample and great provocations to retaliate.
show their cheerful readiness in granting such vast
supplies; their great unanimity, not to be broken by
all the arts of a malicious and cunning faction; their
unfeigned duty to the queen; and lastly, that repre-
sentation made to her majesty from the house of
commons, discovering such a spirit and disposition
in that noble assembly to redress all those evils
which a long maladministration had brought upon
us.
It is probable that, trusting only to my memory,
I may have omitted many things of great import- |
For my own particular, those little barking curs
which have so constantly pursued me, I take to be
of no further consequence to what I have written
than the scoffing slaves of old, placed behind the
chariot to put the general in mind of his mortality ;
which was but a thing of form, and made no stop or
disturbance in the show. However, if those per-
petual snarlers against me had the same design, I
must own they have effectually compassed it;
nothing can well be more mortifying than to reflect
that I am of the same species with creatures capable
of uttering so much scurrility, dulness, falsehood,
and impertinence, to the scandal and disgrace of hu-
man nature.
No. 46.
THURSDAY, JUNE 14, 1711.
Melius non tangere clamo.
since
WHEN a general has conquered an army, and re-
duced a country to obedience, he often finds it neces-
sary to send out small bodies, in order to take in
petty castles and forts, and beat little straggling
parties which are otherwise apt to make head and
infest the neighbourhood. This case exactly resem-
bles mine. I count the main body of the Whigs
entirely subdued; at least, till they appear with
new reinforcements I shall reckon them as such;
and therefore do now find myself at leisure to ex-
amine inferior abuses. The business I have left is,
to fall on those wretches that will be still keeping
the war on foot, when they have no country to de-
fend, no forces to bring into the field, nor anything
remaining but their bare good will toward faction
and mischief: I mean the present set of writers,
whom I have suffered, without molestation, so long
to infest the town. Were there not a concurrence
from prejudice, party, weak understanding, and mis-
representation, I should think them too inconsider-
able in themselves to deserve correction. But as my
endeavour has been to expose the gross impositions
of the fallen party, I will give a taste in the following
petition of the sincerity of these their factors, to
show how little those writers for the Whigs were
guided by conscience or honour, their business being
only to gratify a prevailing interest.
"To the Right Honourable the present Ministry:
the humble Petition of the Party-writers to the
late Ministry-
A SHORT CHARACTER, ETC.
351
"HUMBLY SHEWETII,
"That your petitioners have served their time to
the trade of writing pamphlets and weekly papers in
defence of the Whigs, against the church of England,
and the christian religion, and her majesty's preroga-
tive, and her title to the crown: That, since the late
change of ministry and meeting of this parliament,
the said trade is mightily fallen off, and the call for
the said pamphlets and papers much less than for-
merly; and it is feared to our further prejudice that
the Examiner may discontinue writing, whereby
some of your petitioners will be brought to utter
distress, forasmuch as, through false quotations,
noted absurdities, and other legal abuses, many of
your petitioners, to their great comfort and support,
were enabled to pick up a weekly subsistence out of
the said Examiner.
"That your said poor petitioners did humbly offer
your honours to write in defence of the late change
of ministry and parliament, much cheaper than they
did for your predecessors; which your honours were
pleased to refuse.
"Notwithstanding which offer, your petitioners
are under daily apprehension that your honours will
forbid them to follow the said trade any longer, by
which your petitioners, to the number of fourscore,
with their wives and families, will inevitably starve,
having been bound to no other calling.
"Your petitioners desire your honours will ten-
derly consider the premises, and suffer your said
petitioners to continue their trade (those who set
them at work being still willing to employ them,
though at lower rates), and your said petitioners
will give security to make use of the same stuff, and
dress in the same manner, as they always did, and
no other. And your petitioners," &c.
TRACTS POLITICAL AND HISTORICAL.
A SHORT CHARACTER OF HIS EXCELLENCY
THOMAS EARL OF WHARTON,
LORD LIEUTENANT OF IRRLAND,
With an account of some smaller facts during his government,
which will not be put into the articles of impeachment.
In a confidential letter to Stella, dated Nov. 25, 1710, Dr. Swift
says, "IIere is a damned libellous pamphlet come out against
lord Wharton, giving the character first, and then telling some
of his actions: the character is very well, but the facts indiffer-
ent. It has been sent by dozens to several gentlemen's lodg-
ings, and I had one or two of them; but nobody knows the
author or printer." This is a proof how cautious the dean was
in acknowledging his political productions even to his nearest
friends. In a subsequent letter, dated Dec. 23, he adds, “The
character is here reckoned admirable, but most of the facts
are trifles. It was first printed privately here; and then some
bold car ventured to do it publicly, and sold two thousand in
two days; who the author is must remain uncertain. Do you
pretend to know, impudence how durst you think so?" See
archbishop King's remarks on this character, in a letter to Dr.
Swift, dated Jan. 9, 1710. It would be no unprofitable em-
ployment to compare this character of the earl with the de-
servedly celebrated delineation of Pope.
A SHORT CHARACTER, &c.
London, Aug. 30, 1710.
THE kingdom of Ireland being governed by deputa-
tion from hence, its annals, since the English esta-
blishment, are usually digested under the heads of
the several governors: but the affairs and events of
that island, for some years past, have been either so
insignificant, or so annexed to those of England,
that they have not furnished matter of any great im-
portance to history. The share of honour which
gentlemen from thence have had by their conduct
and employments in the army turns all to the arti-
cle of this kingdom; the rest, which relates to poli-
tics or the art of government, is inconsiderable to
the last degree, however it may be represented at
court by those who preside there, and would value
themselves upon every step they make towards
finishing the slavery of that people, as if it were
gaining a mighty point to the advantage of England.
Generally speaking, the times which afford most
plentiful matter for story are those wherein a man
would least choose to live; such as, the various
events and revolutions of war, the intrigues of a
ruined faction, or the violence of a prevailing one;
and lastly, the arbitrary and unlawful acts of oppress-
ing governors. In the war Ireland has no share but
in subordination to us; the same may be said of
their factions, which at present are but imperfect
transcripts of ours; but the third subject for history,
which is arbitrary power and oppression, as it is
that by which the people of Ireland have for some
time been distinguished from all her majesty's sub-
jects, so, being now at its greatest height under his
excellency Thomas earl of Wharton, a short account
of his government may be of some use or entertain-
ment to the present age, though I hope it will be
incredible to the next.
And because the relation I am going to make may
be judged rather a history of his excellency than of
his government, I must here declare that I have not
the least view to his person in any part of it. I have
had the honour of much conversation with his lord-
ship, and am thoroughly convinced how indifferent
he is to applause, and how insensible of reproach;
which is not an humour put on to serve a turn, or
keep a countenance, nor arising from the conscious-
ness of innocence or any grandeur of mind, but the
mere unaffected bent of his nature. He is without
the sense of shame or glory, as some men are with-
out the sense of smelling; and therefore a good
name to him is no more than a precious ointment
would be to these. Whoever, for the sake of others,
were to describe the nature of a serpent, a wolf, a
crocodile, or a fox, must be understood to do it with-
out any personal love or hatred for the animals
themselves.
In the same manner his excellency is one whom I
neither personally love nor hate. I see him at court,
at his own house, and sometimes at mine, for I have
the honour of his visits: and when these papers are
public, it is odds but he will tell me, as he once did
upon a like occasion, "that he is damnably mauled;"
and then, with the easiest transition in the world,
ask about the weather or time of the day; so that
I enter on the work with more cheerfulness, because
I am sure neither to make him angry nor any way
hurt his reputation; a pitch of happiness and secu-
rity to which his excellency has arrived, and which
no philosopher before him could reach.
I intend to execute this performance by first giv-
ing a character of his excellency, and then relating
some facts during his government in Ireland which
will serve to confirm it.
I know very well that men's characters are best
352
A SHORT CHARACTER OF
learned from their actions, but these being confined
to his administration in that kingdom, his character
may perhaps take in something more, which the
narrowness of the time or the scene has not given
him opportunity to exert.
Thomas earl of Wharton, lord-lieutenant of Ire-
land, by the force of a wonderful constitution has
some years passed his grand climacteric without
any visible effects of old age either on his body or
his mind, and in spite of a continual prostitution to
those vices which usually wear out both. His be-
haviour is in all the forms of a young man at five-
and-twenty. Whether he walks,
Whether he walks, or whistles, or
swears, or talks bawdy, or calls names, he acquits
himself in each beyond a templar of three years'
standing. With the same grace, and in the same
style, he will rattle his coachman in the midst of the
street, where he is governor of the kingdom; and
all this is without consequence, because it is in his
character and what everybody expects. He seems
to be but an ill dissembler and an ill liar, although
they are the two talents he most practises and most
values himself upon. The ends he has gained by
lying appear to be more owing to the frequency than
the art of them: his lies being sometimes detected
in an hour, often in a day, and always in a week.
He tells them freely in mixed companies, although
he knows half of those that hear him to be his ene-
mies, and is sure they will discover them the mo-
ment they leave him. He swears solemnly he loves
and will serve you; and your back is no sooner
turned but he tells those about him you are a dog
and a rascal. He goes constantly to prayers in the
forms of his place, and will talk bawdy and blas-
phemy at the chapel door. He is a presbyterian in
politics, and an atheist in religion; but he chooses
at present to whore with a papist. In his commerce
with mankind, his general rule is to endeavour to
impose on their understandings, for which he has but
one receipt-a composition of lies and oaths: and
this he applies indifferently to a freeholder of forty
shillings, and a privy-councillor; by which the easy
and the honest are often either deceived or amused,
and either way he gains his point. He will openly
take away your employment to-day, because you are
not of his party; to-morrow he will meet or send
for you, as if nothing at all had passed, lay his hands
with much friendliness on your shoulders, and, with
the greatest ease and familiarity, tell you that the
faction are driving at something in the house; that
you must be sure to attend, and to speak to all your
friends to be there, although he knows at the same
time that you and your friends are against him in
the very point he mentions: and however absurd,
ridiculous, and gross this may appear, he has often
found it successful; some men having such an awk-
ward bashfulness, they know not how to refuse on a
sudden; and every man having something to fear,
which often hinders them from driving things to ex-
tremes with persons of power, whatever provocations
they may have received. He has sunk his fortune
by endeavouring to ruin one kingdom [England],
and has raised it by going far in the ruin of another
[Ireland]. With a good natural understanding, a
great fluency in speaking, and no ill taste of wit,
he is generally the worst companion in the world;
his thoughts being wholly taken up between vice
and politics, so that bawdy, profaneness, and busi-
ness, fill up his whole conversation. To gratify
himself in the two first he makes use of suitable
favourites, whose talents reach no higher than to
entertain him with all the lewdness that passes in
town. As for business, he is said to be very dex-
terous at that part of it which turns upon intrigue;
and he seems to have transferred those talents of his
youth for intriguing with women into public affairs
For, as some vain young fellows, to make a gallan-
try appear of consequence, will choose to venturo
their necks by climbing up a wall or window at mid
night to a common wench, where they might as
freely have gone in at the door, and at noonday;
so his excellency, either to keep himself in practice
or advance the fame of his politics, affects the most
obscure, troublesome, and winding paths, even in
the most common affairs, those which would be
brought about as well in the ordinary forms, ol
would follow of course whether he intervened or
not.
He bears the gallantries of his lady with the indif-
ference of a Stoic; and thinks them well recom-
pensed by a return of children to support his family
without the fatigues of being a father.
He has three predominant passions which you
will seldom find united in the same man, as arising
from different dispositions of mind, and naturally
thwarting each other: these are, love of power, love
of money, and love of pleasure; they ride him some-
times by turns, sometimes all together. Since he
went into Ireland he seems most disposed to the
second, and has met with great success; having
gained by his government, of under two years, five.
and-forty thousand pounds by the most favourable
computation, half in the regular way and half in the
prudential.
He was never yet known to refuse or keep a
promise, as I remember he told a lady, but with an
exception to the promise he then made (which was
to get her a pension); yet he broke even that, and,
I confess, deceived us both. But here I desire to
distinguish between a promise and a bargain; for
he will be sure to keep the latter when he has the
fairest offer.
Thus much for his excellency's character: I shall
now proceed to his actions, only during the time he
was governor of Ireland, which were transmitted to
me by an eminent person in business there, who
had all opportunities of being well informed, and
whose employment did not lie at his excellency's
mercy.
This intelligence being made up of several facts
independent of each other, I shall hardly be able to
relate them in due order of time, my correspondent
omitting that circumstance, and transmitting them
to me as they came into his memory; so that the
gentlemen of that kingdom now in town, I hope,
will pardon me any slips I shall make in that or any
other kind, while I keep exactly to the truth.
Thomas Proby, esq., chirurgeon-general of Ire-
land, a person universally esteemed, and whom I
have formerly seen here, had built a country-house
half a mile from Dublin, adjoining to the park. In
a corner of the park, just under his house, he was
much annoyed with a dog-kennel, which belonged
to the government; upon which he applied to
Thomas earl of Pembroke, then lord-lieutenant, and
to the commissioners of the revenue, for a lease of
about five acres of that part of the park. His peti-
tion was referred to the lord-treasurer here, and
sent back for a report, which was in his favour, and
the bargain so hard that the lord-treasurer struck
off some part of the rent. He had a lease granted
him, for which he was to build another kennel, pro-
vide ice yearly for the government, and pay a certain
rent: the land might be worth about thirty shillings
an acre. His excellency, soon after his arrival in
Ireland, was told of this lease, and by his absolute
authority commanded Mr. Proby to surrender up
the land, which he was forced to do, after all the
THOMAS EARL OF WHARTON.
353
expense he had been at, or else must have expected
to lose his employment; at the same time he is
under an obligation to pay his rent, and I think he
does it to this day. There are several circum-
stances in this story which I have forgot, having
not been sent to me with the rest; but I had it
from a gentleman of that kingdom, who some time
ago was here.
Upon his excellency's being declared lord-lieu-
tenant, there came over, to make his court, one Dr.
Lloyd, fellow of Trinity-college, Dublin, noted in
that kingdom for being the only clergyman that de-
clared for taking off the sacramental test, as he did
openly in their convocation, of which he was a
member. The merit of this, and some other prin-
ciples suitable to it recommended by Tom Broderick,
so far ingratiated him with his excellency, that, being
provided of a proper chaplain already, he took him,
however, into a great degree of favour: the doctor
attended his excellency to Ireland; and observing
a cast wench in the family to be in much confidence
with my lady, he thought, by addressing there, to
have a short open passage to preferment. He met
with great success in his amour; and walking one
day with his mistress after my lord and lady in the
castle garden, my lady said to his excellency,
"What do you think? we are going to lose poor
Foydy," a name of fondness they usually gave her.
"How do you mean?" said my lord. "Why the
doctor behind us is resolved to take her from us."-
"Is he by G-? Why then (G—d d—mn me!) he
shall have the first bishopric that falls."a
The doctor, thus encouraged, grew a most violent
lover, returned with his excellency for England, and
soon after, the bishopric of Cork falling void, to show
he meant fair, he married his damsel publicly here
in London, and his excellency as honourably en-
gaged his credit to get him the bishopric; but the
matter was reckoned so infamous that both the arch-
bishops here, especially his grace of York, interposed
with the queen to hinder so great a scandal to the
church; and Dr. Brown, provost of Dublin-college,
being then in town, her majesty was pleased to no-
minate him; so that Dr. Lloyd was forced to sit
down with a moderate deanery in the northern parts
of that kingdom, and the additional comfort of a
sweet lady, who brought this her first husband no
other portion than a couple of olive-branches for his
table, though she herself hardly knows by what hand
they were planted.
The queen reserves all the great employments of
Ireland to be given by herself, though often by the
recommendation of the chief governor, according to
his credit at court. The provostship of Dublin col-
lege is of this number, which was now vacant, upon
the promotion of Dr. Brown. Dr. Benjamin Pratt,
a fellow of that college, and chaplain to the house of
commons of that kingdom, as well as domestic chap-
lain to the duke of Ormond, was at that time here,
in attendance upon the duke. He is a gentleman
of good birth and fortune in Ireland, and lived here
in a very decent figure: he is a person of wit and
learning, has travelled and conversed in the best
company, and was very much esteemed among us
here when I had the pleasure of his acquaintance;
but he had the original sin of being a reputed Tory,
and a dependant on the duke of Ormond; however,
he had many friends among the bishops and other
nobility to recommend him to the queen. At the
same time there was another fellow of that college,
one Dr. Hall, who had the advantage of Pratt in
It was confidently reported, as a conceit of his excellency,
that, talking upon this subject, he once said, with great pleasure,
that he hoped to make his mistress a bishop.
VOL. I
point of seniority. This gentleman had very little
introduced himself into the world, but lived retired,
though otherwise said to be an excellent person, and
very deserving for his learning and sense. He had
been recommended from Ireland by several persons;
and his excellency, who had never before seen nor
thought of him, after having tried to injure the col-
lege by recommending persons from this side, at last
set up Hall, with all imaginable zeal, against Pratt.
I tell this story the more circumstantially because it
is affirmed by his excellency's friends that he never
made more use of his court skill than at this time,
to hinder Dr. Pratt from the provostship; not only
from the personal hatred he had to the man on ac-
count of his patron and principles, but that he might
return to Ireland with some little opinion of his
credit at court, which had mightily suffered by many
disappointments, especially the last, of his chaplain
Dr. Lloyd. It would be incredible to relate the
many artifices he used to this end, of which the
doctor had daily intelligence, and would fairly tell
his excellency so at his levees; who sometimes could
not conceal his surprise, and then would promise,
with half a dozen oaths, never to concern himself
one way or other: these were broke every day, and
every day detected. One morning, after some ex-
postulation between the doctor and his excellency,
and a few additional oaths that he would never op-
pose him more, his excellency went immediately to
the bishop of Ely, and prevailed on him to go to the
queen from him, and let her majesty know that he
never could consent, as long as he lived, that Dr.
Pratt should be provost; which the bishop barely
complied with, and delivered his message, though at
the same time he did the doctor all the good offices
he could. The next day the doctor was again with
his excellency, and gave him thanks for so open a
proceeding: the affair was now past dissembling,
and his excellency owned he did not oppose him
directly, but confessed he did it collaterally. The
doctor, a little warmed, said, "No, my lord, you
mean directly you did not, but indirectly you did.”
The conclusion was, that the queen named the
doctor to the place; and, as a further mortification,
just upon the day of his excellency's departure for
Ireland.
But here I must desire the reader's pardon if I
cannot digest the following facts in so good a man-
ner as I intended; because it is thought expedient,
for some reasons, that the world should be informed
of his excellency's merits as soon as possible. I will
therefore only transcribe the several passages as they
were sent me from Dublin, without either correcting
the style or adding any remarks of my own.
they are, they may serve for hints to any person who
may hereafter have a mind to write memoirs of his
excellency's life.
As
A RELATION OF SEVERAL FACTS, EXACTLY AS THEY
WERE TRANSMITTED TO ME FROM IRELAND ABOUT
THREE MONTHS AGO, AND AT SEVERAL TIMES,
FROM A PERSON OF QUALITY, AND IN EMPLOYMENT
THERE.
THE earl of Rochfort's regiment of dragoons was
embarked for her majesty's service abroad, on the
27th of August, 1709, and left their horses behind
them, which were subsisted in order to mount ano-
ther regiment to fill up their room; as the horses of
lieutenant-general Harvey's regiment had formerly
mounted a regiment raised, and still commanded,
by the duke of Ormond; on which occasion the
duke had her majesty's order only for as much
money as would supply the charge of the horses till
the regiment was raised, which was soon after, and
2 A
354
A SHORT CHARACTER OF
then it was put on the establishment as other regi-
ments. But that which was to supply the earl of
Rochfort's had not a commission granted till the
29th of April, 1710, and all the pay from the 27th
of August to that time (being above 57007.) was
taken under pretence of keeping the horses, buying
new ones in the room of such as should be wanting
or unserviceable, and for providing accoutrements
for the men and horses. As for the last use, those
are always provided out of the funds for providing
clothing, and the duke of Ormond did so as for
horses wanting, they are very few and the captains
have orders to provide them another way; and the
keeping the horses did not amount to 7007. by the
accounts laid before the committee of parliament:
so there was at least 50007. charged to the nation
more than the actual charge could amount to.
Mrs. Lloyd, at first coming over, expected the be-
nefit of the box-money; and accordingly talked of
selling it for about 2007.; but at last was told she
must expect but part of it, and that the grooms of
the chamber and other servants would deserve a
consideration for their attendance. Accordingly
his excellency had it brought to him every night,
and to make it worth his receiving my lady gave
great encouragement to play; so that by a moderate
computation it amounted to 10007., of which a small
share was given to the grooms of the chamber, and
the rest made a perquisite to his excellency: for
Mrs. Lloyd having a husband, and a bishopric pro-
mised her, the other pretensions were cut off.
He met lieutenant-general Langston in the court
of requests, and presented a gentleman to him, say-
ing, "This is a particular friend of mine; he tells
me he is a lieutenant in your regiment; I must de-
sire you will take the first opportunity to give him
a troop, and you will oblige me mightily." The
lieutenant-general answered, "He had served very
well, and had very good pretensions to a troop, and
that he would give him the first that fell.” With
this the gentleman was mighty well satisfied, re-
turned thanks, and withdrew. Upon which his ex-
cellency said immediately, "I was forced to speak
for him, as a great many of his friends have votes at
elections; but, d-n him, he is a rogue, therefore
take no care for him.”
He brought one May to the duke of Ormond, and
recommended him as a very honest gentleman, and
desired his grace would provide for him; which his
grace promised him. So May withdrew. As soon
as he was gone his lordship immediately said to the
duke, "That fellow is the greatest rogue in Christen-
dom."
Colonel Coward having received pay for some
time in two or three regiments as captain, but never
done any other service to the crown than eating and
drinking in the expedition to Cadiz under the duke
of Ormond, finding he had not pretensions enough
to rise, after he had sold the last employment he
had, applied to his excellency, who represented him
in such a light that he got above 9007, as an arrear
of half pay, which he had no title to, and a pension
of 10s. a-day; but he reckoned this as much too
little for his wants as everybody else did too much
for his pretensions, gave in a second petition to the
queen for a further addition of 10s. a-day, which
being referred to his excellency, he gave him a favour-
able report, by means whereof, it is hoped, his merit
will be still further rewarded.
He turned out the poor gatekeeper of Chapelizod-
gate, though he and his wife were each above sixty
years old, without assigning any cause, and they are
now starving.
As for the business of the arsenal, it was the pro-
duct of chance, and never so much as thought of by
the persons who of late have given so many good
reasons for the building of it, till upon inquiring
into the funds they were found to hold out so well
that there was a necessity of destroying sixty or
seventy thousand pounds, otherwise his excellency,
for that time, could hardly have had the credit of
taxing the kingdom. Upon this occasion many pro-
jects were proposed, all which at last gave way to
the proposal of a worthy person who had often per-
suaded the nation to do itself a great deal of harm
by attempting to do itself a little good; which was,
that forty thousand arms should be provided for the
militia, and ammunition in proportion, to be kept
in four arsenals, to be built for that purpose: this
was accordingly put into the heads of a bill, and
then this worthy patriot, with his usual sincerity,
declared he would not consent to the giving of
money for any other use, as everybody thought by
the words he spoke; though afterward he showed
them that his meaning was not to be known by the
vulgar acceptation of words; for he not only gave
his consent to the bill, but used all the art and in-
dustry he was master of to have it pass; though the
money was applied in it to the building of one arse-
nal only, and ammunition and other stores pro-
portionable, without one word of the militia. So
the arsenal was conceived and afterward formed in
a proper manner; but when it came to be brought
forth his excellency took it out of the hands that
had formed it, as far as he could, and, contrary to
all precedents, put it out of the care of the ordnance
board, who were properly to have taken care of the
receipt and
receipt and payment of the money without any fur-
ther charge to the public, and appointed his second
secretary, Mr. Denton, to be paymaster, whose
salary was a charge of above five hundred pounds in
the whole then, thinking this was too small a charge
to put the public to for nothing, he made an esta-
blishment for that work, consisting of one superin-
tendent at three pounds per week, eight overseers
at seven pounds four shillings a-week, and sixteen
assistants at seven pounds four shillings a-week,
making in all seventeen pounds eight shillings
a-week; and these were, for the greatest part, per-
sons who had no knowledge of such business; and
their honesty was equal to their knowledge, as it
has since appeared by the notorious cheats and neg-
lects that have been made out against them; inso-
much that the work they have overseen, which, with
their salaries, has cost near three thousand pounds,
might have been done for less than eighteen hun-
dred pounds, if it had been agreed for by the yard,
which is the usual method, and was so proposed in
the estimate and this is all a certainty, because all
that has been done is only removing earth, which
has been exactly computed by the yard, and might
have been so agreed for.
Philip Savage, esq., as chancellor of the exche-
quer, demanded fees of the commissioners of the
revenue for sealing writs in the queen's business,
and showed them for it some sort of precedents; but
they, not being well satisfied with them, wrote to
Mr. South, one of the commissioners (then in Lon-
don), to inquire the practice there. He sent them
word, upon inquiry, that fees were paid there upon
the like cases; so they adjudged it for him, and con-
stantly paid him fees. If therefore there was a
fault, it must lie at their door, for he never offered
to stop the business; yet his excellency knew so
well how to choose an attorney and solicitor-gene-
ral, that when the case was referred to them they
gave it against the chancellor, and said he had for-
feited his place by it, and ought to refund the money
THOMAS EARL OF WHARTON.
355
(being about two hundred pounds per annum), but
never found any fault in the commissioners, who ad-
judged the case for him, and might have refused
him the money if they had thought fit.
Captain Robert Fitzgerald, father to the present
earl of Kildare, had a grant from king Charles the
Second of the office of comptroller of the musters,
during the lives of captain Chambre Brabazon, now
earl of Meath, and George Fitzgerald, elder brother
to the present earl of Kildare; which the said Ro-
bert Fitzgerald enjoyed with a salary of three hun-
dred pounds per annum; and after his death his son
George enjoyed it, till my lord Galway did, by
threats, compel him to surrender the said patent for
a pension of two hundred pounds per annum, which
he enjoyed during his life. Some time ago the pre-
sent earl of Kildare, as heir to his father and brother,
looked upon himself to be injured by the surrender
of the said patent, which should have come to him,
the earl of Meath being still living; therefore, in
order to right himself, did petition her majesty;
which petition, as usual, was referred to the earl of
Wharton, then lord-lieutenant, who, being at that
time in London, referred it, according to the com-
mon method on such occasions, to the lord chancel-
lor and lieutenant-general Ingoldsby, the then lords-
justices of this kingdom: who for their information
ordered the attorney-general to inquire whether the
earl of Kildare had any legal title to the said patent,
which he, in a full report, said he had: and they
referred it to the deputy vice-treasurer to inquire
into the nature of the office, and to give them his
opinion whether he thought it was useful or neces-
sary for her majesty's service. He gave in his re-
port, and said he thought it both useful and neces-
sary, and, with more honesty than wit, gave the
following reasons: first, that the muster-master-
general computed the pay of the whole military list,
which is above 200,000l. per annum; so, having no
check on him, might commit mistakes, to the great
prejudice of the crown: and, secondly, because he
had himself found out several of those mistakes,
which a comptroller might prevent. The lords-jus-
tices approved of these reasons, and so sent over
their report to my lord-lieutenant, that they thought
the office useful and necessary: but colonel P-r,
the muster-master-general, being then in London,
and having given my lord-lieutenant one thousand
pounds for his consent to enjoy that office, after he
had got her majesty's orders for a patent, thought
a check upon his office would be a troublesome spy
upon him; so he pleaded the merit of his thousand
pounds, and desired, in consideration thereof, that
his excellency would free him from an office that
would put it out of his power to wrong the crown;
and, to strengthen his pretensions, put my lady in
mind of what money he had lost to her at play; who
immediately, out of a grateful sense of benefits re-
ceived, railed as much against the lords-justices'
report as ever she had done against the Tories; and
my lord-lieutenant, prompted by the same virtue,
made his report that there needed no comptroller to
that office, because he controlled it himself; which
(now having given his word for it) he will, beyond
all doubt, effectually do for the future; although
since it has been plainly made appear that, for
want of some control on that office, her majesty has
been wronged of many hundred pounds by the
roguery of a clerk, and that during the time of his
excellency's government; of which there has been
but a small part refunded, and the rest has not been
inquired after, lest it should make it plainly appear
that a comptroller in that office is absolutely necessary.
His excellency being desirous, for a private reason,
|
to provide for the worthless son of a worthless father,
who had lately sold his company, and of course all
pretension to preferment in the army, took this op-
portunity a captain in the oldest regiment in the
kingdom, being worn out with service, desired leave
to sell, which was granted him; and, accordingly,
for a consideration agreed upon, he gave a resignation
of his company to a person approved of by the com-
mander of the regiment, who at the same time applied
to his excellency for leave for another captain of his
regiment, who is an engineer in her majesty's ser-
vice in Spain, and absent by her majesty's licence:
his excellency, hearing that, said they might give
him a company in Spain, for he would dispose of his
here; and so, notwithstanding all the commanders
of the regiment could urge, he gave the company,
which was regularly surrendered, to his worthy fa-
vourite; and the other company, which was a dis-
putable title, to the gentleman who had paid his
money for that which was surrendered.
Talking one morning, as he was dressing (at least
a dozen people present), of the debates in council
about the affair of Trim, he said the lord chief-justice
Dolbena had laid down as law a thing for which a man
ought to have his gown stripped off and be whipped
at the cart's a-e; and in less than a quarter of an
hour repeated the expression again: yet, some days
after, sent Dr. Lambert [his principal chaplain] to
assure his lordship he said no such thing. Some
time after, while he was in England, he used his
utmost efforts with the queen to turn him out, but
could not: so when he came once again he took an
opportunity (when the judges were to wait on him)
to say to them, particularly to lord chief-justice Dol-
ben, that perhaps some officious persons would spread
stories that he had endeavoured to do some of them
a prejudice in England, which he assured them he
never had; but, on the contrary, would always with-
out distinction show his regard according to merit;
which the lord chief-justice Broderick was pleased
to approve of, by saying, "that was very honourable,
that was very gracious;" though he knew the contrary
himself.
In England he bid Mr. Deering assure all his
friends and acquaintance here that they, and every-
body without distinction, might depend upon his
favour as they behaved themselves; with which Mr.
Deering was much pleased, and wrote over to his
friends accordingly; and as soon as his back was
turned, he jeeringly said, "D-n me, how easily he
is bit!"
When the duke of Ormond was in the govern-
ment, he gave to Mr. Anderson Saunders the govern-
ment of Wicklow castle, which has no salary, but a
perquisite of some land worth about 127. per annum,
which Mr. Saunders gave to the free-school of the
town; but his excellency, not liking either the per-
son or the use, without any ceremonies or reason
given superseded him, by giving a commission for
it to Jennings the horse-courser, who lies under
several odious and scandalous reflections, particularly
of very narrowly escaping the gallows for coining.
Some time after his excellency's landing the
second time, he sent for Mr. Saunders among others,
desiring their good offices in the ensuing session, and
that Mr. Saunders would not take amiss his giving
that place to Jennings, for he assured him he did not
know it belonged to him; which is highly probable,
because men of his knowledge usually give away
things without inquiring how they are in their disposal.
Mr. Saunders answered, "He was very glad to find
what was done was not out of any particular dis-
pleasure to him; because Mr. Whitshed had said at
* Lord chief-justice of the common pleas, 1714—1720.
2A 2
356
A SHORT CHARACTER OF THOMAS EARL OF WHARTON.
Wicklow (by way of apology for what his excellency
had done) that it was occasioned by Mr. Saunders's
having it; and seeing his excellency had no ill inten-
tion against him, was glad he could tell his excel-
lency it was not legally given away (for he had a
custodiam for the land out of the court of exche-
quer); so his excellency's commission to Jennings
could do him no prejudice."
the administration; all things being carried by the
consent of the majority, and they sign all orders and
proclamations there, as well as the chief governor.
But his excellency disliked so great a share of power
in any but himself; and when matters were debated
in council otherwise than he approved, he would stop
them, and say, "Come, my lords, I see how your
opinions are, and therefore I will not take your
votes ;" and so would put an end to the dispute.
Lieutenant-general Echlin had pay on this esta-
blishment as brigadier till the middle of October,
1708, when he was removed from it by his excel-
lency, because his regiment went away at that time,
and lieutenant-general Gorges was put in his room.
Some time after major-general Rooke, consider-
ing the reason why Echlin was removed, concluded
that Gorges could not come on till some time in
February after, because his regiment also was outing recommendation: "My lord, Mr.
of the kingdom till that time; and that therefore he,
being the eldest general officer that had no pay as
such, was entitled to the brigadier's pay from the
time Echlin was removed till Gorges was qualified
to receive it, he having done the duty. His excel-
lency, upon hearing the reason, owned it to be a very
good one, and told him, if the money were not paid
to Gorges, he should have it, so bid him go see;
which he did, and found it was; then his excellency
told him he would refer his case to a court of
general officers to give their opinion in it, 'which he
said must needs be in his favour, and upon that
ground he would find a way to do him right; yet,
when the general officers sat, he sent for several of
them, and made them give the case against Rooke.
One of his chief favourites was a scandalous
clergyman, a constant companion of his pleasures,
who appeared publicly with his excellency, but never
in his habit, and who was a hearer and sharer of all
the lewd and blasphemous discourses of his excel-
lency and his cabal. His excellency presented this
worthy divine to one of the bishops, with the follow-
is a very
honest fellow, and has no fault, but that he is a little
too immoral." He made this man chaplain to his
regiment, though he had been so infamous, that a
bishop in England refused to admit him to a living
he had been presented to, till the patron forced him
to it by law.
When the prosecution against the dissenting minis-
ter at Drogheda was depending, one Stevens, a lawyer
in this town (Dublin), sent his excellency, then in
London, a petition, in the name of the said dissent-
ing minister, in behalf of himself and others, who
lay under any such prosecution; and in about a
fortnight's time his excellency sent over a letter to
the then lords-justices, to give the attorney and soli-
citor-general orders to enter a noli prosequi to all such
suits; which was done accordingly, though he never
so much as inquired into the merits of the cause, or
referred the petition to anybody, which is a justice
done to all men, let the case be ever so light. He
said he had her majesty's orders for it; but they did
not appear under her hand, and it is generally
affirmed he never had any.
That his excellency can descend to small gains
take this instance: there were 8507. ordered by her
majesty to buy new liveries for the state trumpets,
messengers, &c. ; but with great industry he got them
made cheaper by 2007., which he saved out of that
sum; and it is reported that his steward got a hand-
some consideration besides from the undertaker.
The agent to his regiment, being so also to others,
bought a lieutenant's commission in a regiment of
foot, for which he never was to do any duty; which
service pleased his excellency so well, that he gave
him leave to buy a company, and would have had
him keep both; but before his pleasure was known
the former was disposed of.
The lord-lieutenant has no power to remove or
put in a solicitor-general without the queen's letter,
it being one of those employments excepted out of
his commission; yet, because sir Richard Levinge
disobliged him by voting according to his opinion,
he removed him, and put in Mr. Forster, although
he had no queen's letter for so doing; only a letter
from Mr. secretary Boyle that her majesty designed
to remove him.
a
The privy-council in Ireland have a great share of
Recorder of the city of Dublin, and lord chief-justice of
the common pleas.
His excellency recommended the earl of Inchi-
quin to be one of the lords-justices in his absence,
and was much mortified when he found lieutenant-
general Ingoldsby appointed without any regard to
his recommendation; particularly because the usual
salary of a lord-justice, in the lord-lieutenant's ab-
sence, is 1007. per month, and he had bargained with
the earl for 407.
I will send you in a packet or two some particu-
lars of his excellency's usage of the convocation;
of his infamous intrigues with Mrs. Coningsby; an
account of his arbitrary proceedings about the election
of a magistrate in Trim; his selling the place of a
privy-councillor and commissioner of the revenue to
Mr. Conolly; his barbarous injustice to dean Jeph-
son and poor Will Crow; his deciding a case at
hazard to get my lady twenty guineas, but in so scan-
dalous and unfair a manner, that the arrantest sharper
would be ashamed of; the common custom of play-
ing on Sunday in my lady's closet; the partie quar-
rée between her ladyship and Mrs. Fl-d, and two
young fellows dining privately and frequently at
Clontarf, where they used to go in a hackney coach;
and his excellency's making no scruple of dining in
a hedge tavern whenever he was invited; with some
other passages which I hope you will put into some
method, and correct the style, and publish as speedily
as you can.
Note: Mr. Savage, beside the prosecution about
his fees, was turned out of the council for giving
his vote in parliament, in a case where his excel-
lency's own friends were of the same opinion, till
they were wheedled or threatened out of it by his
excellency.
The particulars before mentioned I have not yet
received. Whenever they come, I shall publish them
in a Second Part.
SOME REMARKS UPON A PAMPHLET,
ENTITLED, A LETTER TO THE SEVEN LORDS OF THE
COMMITTEE APPOINTED TO EXAMINE GRegg.
THE Examiner has been down this month, and was very silly
the five or six last papers; but there is a pamphlet come out
in answer to a letter to the seven lords who examined Gregg.
The answer is by the real author of the Examiner, as I believe,
for it is very well written.-Journal to Stella, Aug 24, 1711.—
a The committee consisted of the dukes of Devonshire, So-
merset, and Bolton; the earl of Wharton; lord viscount Towns-
hend; lord Somers, and lord Halifax. Gregg was tried at the
Old Bailey, Jan. 19, 1707.8, and condemned for high treason;
but was not executed till April 28, 1708.
REMARKS ON A LETTER TO THE SEVEN LORDS, &c.
357
Even to this lady, to whom he usually writes with unreserved
confidence, Dr. Swift had not yet acknowledged himself to be
the author of the Examiner.
A volume of tracts in the library of Isaac Reed, esq., which
formerly belonged to Charles Ford, esq., the confidential friend
of Swift, contains the following articles, which Mr. Ford attests
to be "all writ by Dr. Swift, now Dean of St. Patrick's:"-
1. Conduct of the Allies, 4th edition-2. Remarks on the
Barrier Treaty--3. Letter to the Lord Treasurer-4. Advice to
the Members of the October Club-5. Prior's Journey to Paris
-6. Letter to the Seven Lords of the Committee-7. Letter to
a Whig Lord (lord Ashburnham)-8. Importance of the Guar
dian-9. Preface to the Bishop of Sarum's Introduction, &c.
-10. Abstract of Collins.
Only four of the above tracts were published in Dr. Hawkes-
worth's collection. The other six were, from internal evidence,
first added to the dean's works by the present editor.
THOSE who have given themselves the trouble to
write against me, either in single papers or pam-
phlets (and they are pretty numerous), do all agree
in discovering a violent rage, and at the same time
affecting an air of contempt, toward their adversary,
which in my humble opinion are not very consist-
ent: and therefore it is plain that their fury is real
and hearty, their contempt only personated. I have
pretty well studied this matter, and would caution
writers of their standard never to engage in that
difficult attempt of despising, which is a work to be
done in cold blood, and only by a superior genius
to one at some distance beneath him. I can truly
affirm I have had a very sincere contempt for many
of those who have drawn their pens against me; yet
I rather chose the cheap way of discovering it by si-
lence and neglect, than be at the pains of new terms
to express it: I have known a lady value herself
upon a haughty disdainful look, which very few un-
derstood, and nobody alive regarded. Those com-
monplace terms of infamous scribbler, prostitute
libeller, and the like, thrown abroad without pro-
priety or provocation, do ill personate the true spirit
of contempt, because they are such as the meanest
writer, whenever he pleases, may use toward the
best. I remember indeed a parish fool, who, with a
great deal of deformity, carried the most disdainful
look I ever observed in any countenance: and it
was the most prominent part of his folly; but he was
thoroughly in earnest, which these writers are not:
for there is another thing I would observe, that my
antagonists are most of them so in a literal sense;
breathe real vengeance and extend their threats to
my person, if they knew where to find it; wherein
they are so far from despising, that I am sensible
they do me too much honour. The author of the
"Letter to the Seven Lords" takes upon him the
three characters of a despiser, a threatener, and a
railer; and succeeds so well in the two last, that it
has made him miscarry in the first. It is no unwise
proceeding which the writers of that side have taken
up, to scatter their menaces in every paper they
publish; it may perhaps look absurd, ridiculous,
and impudent in people at mercy to assume such a
style; but the design is right, to endeavour persuad-
ing the world that it is they who are the injured
party, that they are the sufferers, and have a right to
be angry.
However, there is one point wherein these gentle-
men seem to stretch this wise expedient a little
further than it will allow. I, who for several months
undertook to examine into the late management of
persons and things, was content sometimes to give
only a few hints of certain matters which I had
charity enough to wish might be buried for ever in
oblivion, if the confidence of these people had not
forced them from me. One instance whereof, among
many, is the business of Gregg, the subject of a letter
I am now considering. If this piece has been writ-
ten by direction, as I should be apt to suspect, yet I
am confident they would not have us think so, be-
cause it is a sort of challenge to let the world into
the whole secret of Gregg's affair.
But I suppose
they are confident it is what I am not master of,
wherein it is odds but they may be mistaken; for I
believe the memorials of that transaction are better
preserved than they seem to be aware of, as perhaps
may one day appear.
This writer is offended because I have said so
many severe things with application to particular
persons. The Medley has been often in the same
story; if they condemn it as a crime in general, I
shall not much object; at least I will allow it should
be done with truth and caution; but by what argu-
ment will they undertake to prove that it is pardon-
able on one side and not on the other? Since the
late change of ministry I have observed many of
that party take up a new style, and tell us "That
this way of personal reflection ought not to be en-
dured; they could not approve of it; it was against
charity and good manners." When the Whigs
were in power they took special care to keep their
adversaries silent; then all kind of falsehood and
scurrility was doing good service to the cause, and
detecting evil principles. Now, that the face of
things is changed, and we have liberty to retort upon
them, they are for calling down fire from heaven
they were strangers to, we allow them equal liberty
upon us; though, by a sort of indulgence which
of the press with ourselves; and they even now
make greater use of it, against persons in the highest
power and credit, than we do against those who
have been discarded for the most infamous abuse of
both.
Who encouraged and rewarded the Observator
and Review, for many years together, in charging
the whole body of the clergy with the most odious
crimes and opinions; in declaring all who took oaths
to the government, and called themselves Tories, to
be worse than papists and nonjurors; in exposing
the universities as seminaries of the most pernicious
principles in church and state; in defending the
Rebellion and the murder of king Charles I., which
they asserted to be altogether as justifiable as the
late Revolution? Is there a great man now in
power, or in any credit with the queen, whom those
worthy undertakers have not treated by name in
the most ignominious manner? Even since this
great change of affairs, with what amazing licentious-
ness has the writer of the Medley attacked every
person of the present ministry, the speaker of the
house of commons, and the whole senate! He has
turned into ridicule the results of the council and
the parliament, as well as the just and generous en-
deavours of the latter to pay the debts and restore
the credit of the nation, almost ruined by the cor-
ruption and management of his own party.
And are these the people who complain of per-
sonal reflections; who so confidently invoke the
men in power (whom they have so highly obliged)
to punish or silence me for reflecting on their ex-
ploded heroes? Is there no difference between men
chosen by the prince, reverenced by the people for
their virtue, and others rejected by both for the
highest demerits? Shall the Medley and his brothers
fly out with impunity against those who preside at
the helm? and am I to be torn in pieces because I
censure others who, for endeavouring to split the
vessel against a rock, are put under the hatches?
I now proceed to the pamphlet which I intend to
consider. It is a letter written to seven great men,
who were appointed to examine Gregg in Newgate.
The writer tells their lordships that the Examiner
358
REMARKS ON A LETTER
has charged them with endeavouring, by bribery and
subornation of that criminal, to take away Mr. Har-
ley's life.
If there be anything among the
the papers
I
have writ which may be applied to these persons, it
would have become this author to have cleared them
fully from the accusation, and then he might at
leisure have fallen upon me as a liar and misrepre-
senter; but of that he has not offered a syllable; the
weight of his charge lies here,-that such an author
as the Examiner should presume, by certain innu-
endoes, to accuse any great persons of such a crime.
My business in those papers was to represent facts,
and I was as sparing as possible of reflecting upon
particular persons; but the mischief is, that the
is, that the
readers have always found names to tally with those
facts; and I know no remedy for this. As, for in-
stance, in the case here before us. An under-clerk
in the secretary's office, of fifty pounds a-year, is
pounds a-year, is
discovered to hold correspondence with France, and
apprehended by his master's order, before he could
have opportunity to make his escape by the private
warning of a certain person, a professed enemy to
the secretary. The criminal is condemned to die.
It is found upon his trial that he was a poor profli-
gate fellow; the secretary at that time was under
the mortal hatred of a violent prevailing party, who
dreaded him for his great abilities and his avowed
design to break their destructive measures.
It was very well known that a secretary of state
has little or no intercourse with the lower clerks, but
with the under-secretaries, who are the more imme-
diate masters of those clerks, and are, and ought to
be, as they then were, gentlemen of worth; however,
it would pass well enough in the world that Gregg
was employed in Mr. secretary Harley's office, and
was consequently one of his clerks, which would be
ground enough to build upon it what suggestons
they pleased. Then for the criminal, he was needy
and vicious; he owed his death to the secretary's
watchful pursuit of him, and would therefore pro-
bably incline to hearken to any offers that would
save his life, gratify his revenge, and make him easy
in his fortune; so that, if a work of darkness were to
be done, it must be confessed here were proper
motives and a proper instrument. But ought we
to suspect any persons of such a diabolical practice?
Can all faith, and honour, and justice, be thus vio-
lated by men ?-questions proper for a pulpit, or
well becoming a philosopher: but what if it were
regnandi causa, and that perhaps in a literal sense?
Is this an age of the world to think crimes improba-
ble because they are great? Perhaps it is; but what
shall we say to some of those circumstances which
attended this fact? Who gave rise to this report
against Mr. Harley? Will any of his enemies con-
fess in cold blood that they did either believe, sus-
pect, or imagine, the secretary and one of his under
clerks to be joined in corresponding with France?
Some of them, I should think, knew better what be-
longed to such a correspondence, and how it ought
to be managed. The nature of Gregg's crime was
such as to be best performed without any accom-
plices at all; it was, to be a spy here for the French,
and to tell them all he knew; and it appears, by his
letters, that he never had it in his power to let them
into anything of importance. The copy of the
queen's letter to the emperor, which he sent to the
enemy, and has made such a noise, was only to
desire that prince Eugene might be employed to
command in Spain; which, for six weeks before,
had been mentioned in all the Gazettes of Europe.
It was evident from the matter of his letters that no
man of consequence could have any share in them.
The whole affair had been examined in the cabinet
two months before, and there found and reported as
only affecting the person of Gregg, who, to supply
his vices and his wants, was tempted to engage in
that correspondence; it is therefore hard to con-
ceive how that examination should be resumed, after
such a distance of time, with any fair or honourable
intention. Why were not Gregg's examinations
published, which were signed by his own hand, and
had been taken in the cabinet two months before
the committee of the house was appointed to re-
examine him? Why was he pressed so close, to cry
out with horror, "Good God! would you have me
accuse Mr. Harley, when he is wholly innocent?"
Why were all the answers returned to the queries
sent him immediately burned? I cannot in my
conscience but think that the party was bound in
honour to procure Gregg a pardon, which was
openly promised him, upon condition of making an
ingenuous confession, unless they had some other
notions of what is ingenuous than is commonly
meant by that word. A confession
A confession may be never-
theless ingenuous for not answering the hopes or
designs of those who take it; but, though the word
was publicly used, the definition of it was reserved
to private interpretation, and by a capricious humour
of fortune, a most flagitious, though repenting vil-
lain was hanged for his virtue. It could not, indeed,
consist with any kind of prudence then in fashion
to spare his life, and thereby leave it in his power, at
any time, to detect their practices, which he might
afterwards do at any time with so much honour to
himself.
But I have the luck to be accused by this author
in very good company; the two houses of par-
liament in general, and the speaker of the house of
commons in particular, whom he taxes with false-
hood and absurdity as well as myself, though in a
more respectful manner, and by a sort of irony.
The whole kingdom had given the same interpreta-
tion that I had done to some certain passages in
the address from both houses upon the attempt of
Guiscard; friends and enemies agreed in applying
the word faction. But the speaker is much clearer ;
talks (as I have mentioned in another place) of some
unparalleled attempts, and uses other terms that
come pretty home to the point. As to what the
parliament affirms, this author makes it first as ab-
surd and impracticable as he can, and then pretends
to yield, as pressed by so great an authority; and
explains their meaning into nonsense, in order to
bring them off from reflecting upon his party. Then
for the speaker, this writer says he is but a single
man; and because his speech was in words too
direct to avoid, he advises him to save his honour
and virtue by owning a solecism in his speech, and
to write less correctly, rather than mean maliciously.
What an expedient this advocate has found to re-
move the load of an accusation! He answers, "The
crime is horrible; that great men ought not to be
thus insolently charged." I reply, "That the par-
liament and speaker appear, in many points, to be
of the same opinion."-He rejoins, "That he is
pressed by too great an authority; that, perhaps,
those wise assemblies, and that honourable gentle-
man (who besides is but a single man), may pro-
ably speak nonsense; they must either deliver a
solecism or be malicious; and, in good manners, he
rather thinks it may be the former."
The writer of the letter, having thus despatched
the Examiner, falls next upon a paper called Secret
Transactions, &c., written, as he tells us, by one
Francis Hoffman and the ordinary of Newgate;
persons whom I have not the honour to be known.
to (whatever my betters may be), nor have yet
TO THE SEVEN LORDS, &c.
359
seen their productions; but, by what is cited from
them in the letter, it should seem they have made
some untoward observations. However, the same
answer still serves; not a word to control what they
say; only they are a couple of daring insolent
wretches, to reflect upon the greatest and best men
in England, and there is an end. I have no sort of
regard for that same Hoffman, to whose character I
am a perfect stranger; but methinks the ordinary
of Newgate should be treated with more respect,
considering what company he has kept, and what
visitors he may have had. However, I shall not
enter into a point of controversy whether the lords.
were acquainted with the ordinary, or the ordinary
with the lords, since this author leaves it undecided.
Only one thing I take to be a little hard. It is now
confessed on all hands that Mr. Harley was most
unjustly suspected of joining with an under-clerk in
corresponding with France. The suspicion being
in itself unreasonable and without the least pro-
bable grounds, wise men began to consider what
violent enemies that gentleman had; they found
the report most industriously spread; the Whigs,
in common discourse, discovering their wishes that
he might be found guilty; the management of the
whole affair was put into the hands of such as, it is
supposed. would at least not be sorry to find more
than they expected. The criminal's dying speech
is unfortunately published, wherein he thanks God
he was not tempted to save his life by falsely ac-
cusing his master, with more to the same purpose:
from all this put together, it was no very unnatural
conjecture that there might have been some tamper-
ing. Now, I say that it is a little hard that Mr.
Harley's friends must not be allowed to have their
suspicions as well as his enemies; and this author,
if he intended to deal fairly, should have spent one
paragraph in railing at those who had the impu-
dence and villany to suspect Mr. Harley, and then
proceeded in due method to defend his committee of
examiners; but that gentleman being, as this author
says of the speaker, but a single man, I suppose his
reputation and life were esteemed but of little con-
sequence.
There is one state of the case in this letter which
I cannot well omit, because the author, I suppose,
conceives it to be extremely cunning and malicious;
that it cuts to the quick, and is wonderfully severe
upon Mr. Harley, without exposing the writer to
any danger. I say this to gratify him, to let him.
know I take his meaning and discover his inclina-
tions. His parallel case is this: "Supposing Guis-
card had been intimate with some great officer of
state, and had been suspected to communicate his
most secret affairs with that minister; then he asks,
Whether it would have been subornation, or
seeking the life and blood of that officer, in these
great lords of the council, if they had narrowly ex-
amined this affair, inquired with all exactness what
he knew of this great officer, what secrets he had
imparted to him, and whether he were privy to his
corresponding?" &c. In this parallel, Guiscard's
case is supposed to be the same with Gregg's; and
that of the great officer with Mr. Harley's; so that
here he lays down as a thing granted that Gregg
was intimate with Mr. Harley, and suspected to
communicate his most secret affairs to him. Now,
did ever any rational man suspect that Mr. Harley,
first principal secretary of state, was intimate with
an under-clerk, or upon the foot of having most
secret affairs communicated to him from such a
counsellor, from one in so inferior a station, whom
perhaps he hardly knew by sight? why was that
report raised, but for the uses which were afterward
made of it? or why should we wonder that they
who were so wicked as to be authors of it would be
scrupulous in applying it to the only purpose for
which it could be raised?
Having thus considered the main design of this
letter, I shall make a few remarks upon some par-
ticular passages in it.
First, Though it be of no consequence to this dis-
pute, I cannot but observe a most evident falsehood,
which he repeats three or four times in his letter,
that I make the world believe I am set on work by
great people. I remember myself to have several
times affirmed the direct contrary, and so I do still;
and if I durst tell him my name, which he is so de-
sirous to know, he would be convinced that I am of
a temper to think no man great enough to set me on
work; nay, I am content to own all the scurrilous
titles he gives me, if he be able to find one innuendo
through all those papers that can any way favour
this calumny; the malice of which is not intended.
against me, but the present ministry; to make the
world believe that what I have published is the ut-
most effort of all they can say or think against
the last; whereas it is nothing more than the common
observations of a private man, deducing consequences
and effects from very natural and visible causes.
He tells us, with great propriety of speech, that
the seven lords and their friends are treated as sub-
verters of the constitution, and such as have been
long endeavouring to destroy both church and state.
This puts me in mind of one who first murdered a
man, and afterward endeavoured to kill him; and
therefore I here solemnly deny them to have been
subverters of the constitution; but that some people
did their best endeavours I confidently believe.
He tells me particularly, that I acquit Guiscard,
by a blunder, of a design against Mr. Harley's life.
I declare he injures me; for I look upon Guiscard
to be full as guilty of the design as even those were
who tampered with the business of Gregg; and both
(to avoid all cavilling) as guilty as any man ever was
that suffered death by law.
He calls the stabbing of Mr. Harley a sore blow,
but I suppose he means his recovery; that indeed
was a sore blow to the interests of his party; but I
take the business of Gregg to have been a much
sorer blow to their reputation.
This writer wonders how I should know their
lordships' hearts, because he hardly knows his own.
I do not well see the consequence of this: perhaps
he never examines into his own heart; perhaps it
keeps no correspondence with his tongue or his
pen: I hope, at least, it is a stranger to those foul
terms he has strewed throughout his letter; other-
wise I fear I know it too well; for out of the abund-
ance of the heart the mouth speaketh. But, how-
ever, actions are pretty good discoverers of the heart,
though words are not; and whoever has once en-
deavoured to take away my life, if he has still the
same, or rather much greater cause, whether it be a
just one or not, and has never shown the least sign
of remorse, I may venture, without being a con-
jurer, to know so much of his heart as to believe he
would repeat his attempt if it were in his power. I
must needs quote some following lines in the same
page, which are of an extraordinary kind, and seem
to describe the blessed age we should live in under
the return of the late administration.
"It is very
well," says he, "that people's heads are to stand
on their shoulders as long as the laws will let them;
if it depended upon anything besides, it may be
your lordships' seven heads might be as soon cut off
as that one gentleman's, were you in power." Then
he concludes the paragraph with this charitable
360
REMARKS ON A LETTER
prayer, in the true moderation style, and in Italic
letter: "May the head that has done the kingdom
the greatest mischief fall first, let it be whose it
will!" The plain meaning of which is this: If the
late ministry were in power, they would act just as
the present ministry would if there were no law,
which perhaps may be true; but I know not any
ministry upon earth that I durst confide in without
law; and if, at their coming in again, they design
to make their power the law, they may as easily cut
off seven heads as one. As for the head that has
done the greatest mischief to the kingdom, I cannot
consent it should fall till he and I have settled the
meaning of the word mischief. Neither do I much
approve this renewing an old fashion of whipping
off heads by a prayer; it began from what some of
us think an ill precedent. Then that unlimited
clause, let it be whose it will," perplexes me not
a little: I wish, in compliance with an old form, he
had excepted my lord mayor: otherwise, if it were
to be determined by their vote whose head it was
that had done the greatest mischief, which way can
we tell how far their predecessors' principles may
have influenced them? God preserve the queen
and her ministers from such undistinguishing dis-
posers of heads!
His remarks upon what the ordinary told Hoffman
are singular enough. The ordinary's words are,
"That so many endeavours were used to corrupt
Gregg's conscience, &c., that he felt as much un-
easiness lest Gregg should betray his master as if it
had been his own case.' The author of the letter
says to this, "That, for aught the ordinary knew, he
might confess what was exactly true of his master,
and that therefore an indifferent person might as
well be uneasy for fear Gregg should discover some-
thing of his master that would touch his life, and
yet might have been true." But if these were really
the ordinary's thoughts at that time, they were honest
and reasonable. He knew it was highly improbable
that a person of Mr. Harley's character and station
should make use of such a confederate in treason;
if he had suspected his loyalty, he could not have
suspected his understanding. And knowing how
much Mr. Harley was feared and hated by the men
in power, and observing that resort to Gregg at un-
seasonable hours, and that strange promises were
often made him by men of note; all this put together
might naturally incline the ordinary to think the
design could be nothing else but that Mr. Harley
should be accused in spite of his innocence.
This charge of subornation is, it seems, so extra-
ordinary a crime, that the author challenges all the
books in the new lord's library [Harley, newly cre-
ated earl of Oxford] (because he hears it is the
largest), to furnish us with an instance like it. What
if this charge should be true? Then I in my turn
would challenge all the books in another lord's
library, which is ten times larger (though perhaps
not so often disturbed), to furnish us with an in-
If it be so monstrous a thing to
stance like this.
accuse others of subornation, what epithet is left
to bestow upon those who were really guilty of the
crime itself? I think it beyond controversy that
subornation was practised in the business of Gregg.
This manifestly appears from those few facts I have
mentioned: let the Whigs agree among them where
to fix it. Nay, it is plain, by the great endeavours
made to stifle his last speech, that they would have
suborned the poor man even after he was dead:
And is this a matter now to be called in question,
much less to be denied?
He compares the examination of Guiscard with
that of Gregg; talks of several great persons who
examined the former in prison, and promised him
the queen's pardon if he would make a full discovery.
Then the author puts the case, "How wicked it
would be to charge these honourable counsellors
with suborning Guiscard, by promises of life, &c.,
to accuse the innocent and betray his friend!" Does
it anywhere appear that those noble persons who
examined Guiscard put leading questions to him,
or pointed out where they would have him fix an
accusation? Did they name some mortal enemy of
their own, and then drop words of pardon and re-
ward if he would accuse him? Did Guiscard leave
any paper behind him to justify the innocence of
some great person whom he was tempted to accuse?
yet perhaps I could think of certain people who were
much more likely to act in concert with Guiscard
than ever Mr. Harley was to be confederate with
Gregg. I can imagine several who wished the pen-
knife in Mr. Harley's heart, though Guiscard alone
was desperate enough to attempt it. Who were
those that, by their discourses as well as countenances,
discovered their joy when the blow was struck?
Who were those that went out or stood silent when
the address and congratulation were voted? and who
were those that refined so far as to make Mr. Har-
ley confederate with his own assassin ?
There is one point which this author affirms more
than once or twice in a transient way, as if he would
have us suppose it a thing granted, but is of such a
weight, that it wants nothing but truth to make the
late change of ministry a very useless and dangerous
proceeding; for so it must be allowed, if, as he af-
firms, "Affairs are still under the like management,
and must be so, because there is no better; that this
set of men must take the same courses in their minis-
tration with their predecessors, or ten times worse;
that the new servants go on in the old methods, and
give the same counsel and advice on the like' occa-
sions with the old ones:" with more to the same
purpose. A man may affirm, without being of the
cabinet, that every syllable of this is absolutely false,
unless he means that money is still raised by par-
liament, and borrowed upon new funds; that the
duke of Marlborough still commands the army; that
we have a treasurer, keeper, president, and secre-
taries, as we had before; and that, because the council
meets much about the same times and places as for-
merly, therefore they give the same advice and pur-
sue the same measures. What does he think of
finding funds to pay the old unprovided-for debt of
the navy, and erecting a company for the South Sea
trade? What does he think of Mr. Hill's expedition
to preserve our trade in the West Indies? What of
the methods taken to make our allies pay their quotas
to the war, which was a thing so scandalously either
neglected, connived at, or encouraged? What of the
care to retrench the exorbitant expenses of the Span-
ish war? What of those many abuses and corrup-
tions at home which have been so narrowly inquired
into, and in a good part redressed? Evils so deeply
radicated must require some time to remedy them,
and cannot be all set right in a few months.
sides, there are some circumstances, known by the
names of honour, probity, good sense, great capacity
for business, as likewise certain principles of religion
and loyalty, the want, or possession of all which
will make a mighty difference even in the pursuit of
the same measures. There is also one characteristic
which will ever distinguish the late ministry from
the present that the former, sacrificing all other re-
gards to the increase of their wealth and power,
found those were no otherwise to be preserved but
by continuance of the war; whereas the interests as
well as inclinations of the present dispose them to
Be-
TO THE SEVEN LORDS, &c.
361
make use of the first opportunities for a safe and
honourable peace.
and constant experience will immediately confute.
Schismatic and fanatic preachers have indeed been
perpetually employed that way, with good success,
by the faction against king Charles I., to murder their
prince and ruin the monarchy,-by king James II.,
to bring in popery, and ever since the revolution to
advance the unmeasurable appetite of power and
wealth among a set of profligate
upstarts. But in
upstarts.
all these three instances the established clergy (ex-
cept a very few, like tares among wheat, and those
generally sown by the enemy) were so far from being
tools, that in the first they were persecuted, impri-
soned, and deprived; and in the two others they
were great instruments, under God, for preserving
our religion and liberty.
The writer goes on upon another parallel case,
which is the modern way of reflecting upon a prince
and ministry. He tells us, "That the queen was
brought to discard her old officers through the mul-
titude of complaints, secret teasings, and importu-
nate clamours of a rout of people, led by their priests,
and spirited underhand by crafty emissaries." Would
not any one who reads this imagine that the whole
rabble, with the clergy at their head, were whisper-
ing in the queen's ear, or came in disguise to desire
a word with her majesty, like the army of the two
kings of Brentford? The unbiassed majority of the
nobility and gentry of the kingdom are called, by
this son of obscurity, a rout of people, and the clergy In the same paragraph which contains a project
their leaders. We have often accused that party for for turning out the present ministry and restoring
their evil talent of railing perpetually against the the last, he owns that the queen is now served with
clergy, which they discovered at first without any more obsequious words, more humble adorations,
visible reason or provocation, as conscious of the and a more seeming resignation to her will and plea-
designs they had in view, and therefore wisely began sure, than she was before. And indeed, if this be
by vilifying those whom they intended to destroy. not true, her majesty has the worst luck of any prince
I have observed formerly that the party malice in Christendom. The reverse of these phrases I take
against the clergy has been so blind and furious as to be rude expressions, insolent behaviour, and a
to charge them with crimes wholly inconsistent. I real opposition to her majesty's most just and rea-
find they are still in the same disposition, and that sonable commands, which are the mildest terms that
this writer has received direction from his superiors the demeanour of some late persons toward their
to pursue the old style upon that article. Accord-prince can deserve in return of the highest favours
ingly, in the paragraph I am now upon he represents
that reverend body as leaders, cullies, and tools.
First, he says "That rout of secret teasers (meaning
the nobility and gentry of the kingdom) were led by
the priests." Then he assures us "That the queen
will, in a year or two, begin to consider who it was
that cheated those poor priests." And in case her
majesty should have a mind to bring in the old
ministry again, he comforts his party "That the
priests are seldom wanting to become the tools of
cunning managers." I desire to know in what sense
he would have us to understand that these poor
priests have been cheated. Are they cheated by a
fund established for building fifty churches? or by
the queen's letter empowering them to proceed on
the business proper for a convocation? What one
single advantage could they possibly lose by this
change? They are still indeed abused every day in
print, but it is by those who are without the power to
hurt them; the serpent has lost his sting, is trodden
under foot, and its hissing is contemned. But he
confidently affirms "That, when it shall be thought
fit to restore the old ministry, the priests will not be
wanting to become the tools of their cunning ma-
nagers." This I cannot by any means allow, unless
they have some hidden reserve of cunning which has
never yet been produced. The cunningest managers
I ever knew among them are, of all others, most de-
tested by the clergy; neither do I remember they
have been ever able to make any of them tools, ex-
cept by making them bishops: even those few they
were able to seduce would not be their tools at a
lower rate.
But because this author, and others of his standard,
affect to make use of that word tool when they have
a mind to be shrewd and satirical, I desire once for
all to set them right. A tool, and an instrument, in
the metaphorical sense, differ thus: the former is an
engine in the hands of knaves; the latter in those of
wise and honest men. The greatest ministers are
instruments in the hands of princes, and so are
princes themselves in the hands of God; and in this
sense the clergy are ready to be instruments of any
good to the prince or people. But that the clergy
of England, since the Reformation, have at any time
been the tools of a party is a calumny which history
that subjects ever received, whereof a hundred par-
ticulars might be produced. So that, according to
our author's way of reasoning, I will put a parallel
case in my turn. I have a servant to whom I am
exceedingly kind; I reward him infinitely above his
merit; beside which, he and his family snap every-
thing they can lay their hands on; they will let none
come near me but themselves and dependants; they
misrepresent my best friends as my greatest enemies;
besides, they are so saucy and malapert, there is no
speaking to them; so far from any respect, that they
treat me as an inferior. At last I pluck up spirit,
turn them all out of doors, and take in new ones,
who are content with what I allow them, though I
have less to spare than formerly; give me their best
advice when I ask it, are constantly in the way, do
what I bid them, make a bow when they come in
and go out, and always give me a respectful answer.
I suppose the writer of the letter would tell me that
my present domestics were indeed a little more civil,
but the former were better servants.
There are two things wherewith this author is pe-
culiarly angry; first, at the licentious way of the
scum of mankind treating the greatest peers in the
nation: secondly, that these hedge-writers (a phrase
I unwillingly lend him, because it cost me some
pains to invent) seldom speak a word against any of
the late ministry, but they presently fall to compli-
ment my lord-treasurer and others in great places.
On the first he brings but one instance, but I could
produce a good many hundred. What does he think
of the Observator, the Review, and the Medley?
In his own impartial judgment, may not they as
fairly bid for being the scum of mankind as the Ex-
aminer? and have they not treated at least as many,
and almost as great peers, in as infamous a manner?
I grant, indeed, that through the great defect of
truth, genius, learning, and common sense, among
the libellers of that party, they being of no enter-
tainment to the world, after serving the present turn,
were immediately forgotten. But this we can re-
member in gross, that there was not a great man in
England, distinguished for his love to the monarchy
or the church, who, under the appellations of tory,
jacobite, highflier, and other cant words, was not re-
presented as a public enemy and laden by name
362
REMARKS ON A LETTER TO THE SEVEN LORDS, &c.
with all manner of obloquy. Nay, have they not
even disturbed the ashes, and endeavoured to blast
the memories of the dead, and chiefly of those who
lost their lives in the service of the monarchy and
the church? His other quarrel is at our flattering
my lord-treasurer and other great persons in power.
To which I shall only say, for every line written in
praise of the present ministry, I will engage to fur-
nish the author with three pages of the most fulsome
panegyrics on the least deserving members of the
last; which is somewhat more than by the propor-
tion of time, while they were in power, could fall to
their share. Indeed, I am apt to think that the men
of wit, at least, will be more sparing in their incense
of this kind for the future, and say no more of any
great man now at the helm than they believe he de-
serves. Poems, dedications, and other public enco-
miums, might be of use to those who were obliged
to keep up an unnatural spirit in the nation, by sup-
plying it with art; and consequently the authors de-
served, and sometimes met, encouragement and re-
ward. But those great patriots now at the head of
affairs are sufficiently supported by the uncompelled
favour of the queen and the natural disposition of
the people. We can do them no srevice by our
applauses, and therefore expect no payment; so
that I look upon this kind of stock to have fallen
at least ninety per cent. since the great changes at
court.
He puts a few questions, which I am in some
pain to answer. "Cannot," says he, "the succes-
sors be excellent men unless the predecessors be vil-
lains? Cannot the queen change her ministers, but
they must presently be such as neither God nor man
can endure? Do noblemen fall from all honour,
virtue, and religion, because they are so unhappy as
to fall from their prince's favour?"
I desire to say
something, in the first place, to this last question;
which I answer in the negative. However, he will
own that "men should fall from their prince's
favour when they are so unhappy as to fall from all
honour, virtue, and religion;" though I must con-
fess my belief at the same time that some certain
persons have lately fallen from favour who could
not for a very manifest reason be said, properly
speaking, to fall from any of the other three. To
his other questions I can only say that the constant
language of the Whig pamphleteers has been, this
twelvemonth past, to tell us how dangerous a step
it was to change the ministry at so nice a juncture;
to shake our credit, disoblige our allies, and encou-
Then this author tells us that
rage the French.
those discarded politicians were the greatest minis-
ters we ever had; his brethren have said the same
thing a hundred times. On the other side the
queen, upon long deliberation, was resolved to part
with them; the universal voice of the people was
against them: her majesty is the most mild and
gracious prince that ever reigned; we have been
constantly victorious, and are ruined; the enemy
flourishes under his perpetual losses. If these be
the consequences of an able, faithful, diligent, and
dutiful administration, of that astonishing success
he says Providence has crowned us with, what can
be those of one directly contrary? But, not to enter
into a wide field at present, I faithfully promise the
author of the letter, his correspondents, his patrons,
and his brethren, that this mystery of iniquity shall
be very shortly laid open to the view of the world;
when the most ignorant and prejudiced reader will,
I hope, be convinced, by facts not to be controlled,
how miserably this poor kingdom had been deluded
to the very brink of destruction.
He would have it that the people of England
have lost their senses; are bewitched and cheated,
mad and without understanding: but all this will
go off by degrees, and then his great men will
recover their esteem and credit. I did in one of my
papers overthrow this idle affected opinion, which
has been a thousand times urged by those who most
wished and least believed it; I there showed the
difference between a short madness of the people
and their natural bent or genius. I remember, when
king James II. went from England, he left a paper
behind him with expressions much to the same pur-
pose; hoping among other things that God would
open the eyes of the nation. Too much zeal for his
religion brought us then in danger of popery and
arbitrary power; too much infidelity, avarice, and
ambition, brought us lately into equal danger of
atheism and anarchy. The people have not yet
opened their eyes to see any advantage in the two
former; nor, I hope, will ever find their senses
enough to discover the blessings of the two latter.
Cannot I see things in another light than this author
and his party do without being blind? is my under-
standing lost when it differs from theirs? am I
cheated, bewitched, and out of my senses, because I
think those to have been betrayers of our country
whom they call patriots?
He hopes his seven correspondents will never
want their places, but is in pain for the poor king-
dom lest their places should want them. Now, I
have examined this matter, and am not at all dis-
couraged. Two of thema hold their places still, and
are likely to continue in them: two more were
governors of islands; I believe the author does not
imagine those to be among the places which will
want men to fill them. God be thanked, a man
may command the beef-eaters without being a sol-
dier; I will at any time undertake to do it myself.
Then it would be a little hard if the queen should
be at a loss for a steward to her family. So that,
upon the whole, I see but one great employment
which is in any danger of wanting a sufficient per-
son to execute it. We must do as well as we can;
yet I have been told that the bare business of pre-
siding in council does not require such very trans-
cendent abilities; and I am mistaken if, till within
these late years, we have not been some ages with-
out that office. So that I hope things may go well
enough provided the keeper, treasurer, and both the
secretaries, will do their duties; and it is happy for
the nation that none of their seven lordships left
of those places to want them.
any
The writer of the letter concludes it with " an
appeal to all the princes and states of Europe, friends
and enemies by name, to give their judgment,
whether they think the late ministry were wanting
in faithfulness, abilities, or diligence, to serve their
prince and country?" Now, if he speaks by order
of his party, I am humbly of opinion they have in-
curred a præmunire for appealing to a foreign juris-
diction; and her majesty may seize their goods and
chattels whenever she pleases. In the mean time,
I will not accept his appeal, which has been rejected
by the queen and both houses of parliament. But,
let a fair jury be empanelled in any county of Eng-
land, and I will be determined by their verdict.
First, he names the king of France and all his coun-
sellors, with the pretender and all his favourers and
abettors. These I except against; I know they will
readily judge the late ministry to be faithful, able,
and diligent in serving their prince and country.
The counsels of some people have, in their way,
served very much to promote the service of the pre-
a The duke of Somerset and the earl of Halifax.
b The earl of Wharton and the duke of Bolton.
MR. PRIOR'S JOURNEY TO PARIS.
363
tender, and to enable the French king to assist him;
and is not he, in that monarch's opinion as well as
his own, their lawful prince? I except against the
emperor and the states; because it can be proved
upon them that the plaintiffs and they have an un-
derstanding together. I except against any prince
who makes unreasonable demands, and threatens to
recall his troops if they be not complied with: be-
cause they have been forced of late to change their
language, and may perhaps be shortly obliged to ob-
serve their articles more strictly. I should be sorry
for the appealers' sakes to have their case referred to
the kings of Sweden and Denmark, who infallibly
would decree them to be all hanged up for their inso-
lence to their sovereign. But, above all, the king
of Spain would certainly be against them, when he
considers with how scandalous a neglect his interests
have been managed; and that the full possession of
his kingdom was made a sacrifice to those whose
private or party interest swayed them to the continu-
ance of the war. The author had reason to omit the
grand seignior and czar in the list of his judges ;
the decrees of those princes are too sudden and san-
guinary; and their lessons to instruct subjects in be-
haviour to their princes, by strangling them with a
bowstring or flinging them to be devoured alive by
hogs, were enough to deter them from submitting to
their jurisdiction.
A NEW JOURNEY TO PARIS;
TOGETHER WITH SOME SECRET TRANSACTIONS
BETWEEN THE FRENCH KING AND AN
ENGLISH GENTLEMAN.
BY THE SIEUR DU BAUDRIER.
Translated from the French.
I believe no person will doubt. You see all along
the vanity of that nation, in a mean man giving him-
self the airs of a secretary, when it appears by seve-
ral circumstances that he was received only as a
menial servant. It were to be wished the au-
thor had been one of more importance and further
trusted in the secrets of his master's negotiation;
but to make amends he informs us of several parti-
culars which one of more consequence would not
have given himself the trouble about; and the
particulars are such as we at home will perhaps be
curious to know; not to mention that he gives us
much light into some things that are of great mo-
ment; and by his not pretending to know more we
cannot doubt the truth of what he relates.
It is plain he waited at table, carried his master's
valise, and attended in his bedchamber; though he
takes care to tell us that Monsieur Prior made many
excuses and apologies, because these mean offices
appear very inconsistent with the character of secre-
tary, which he would seem to set up for.
I shall make no reflections on this important
affair, nor upon the consequences we may expect
from it. To reason upon secrets of state, without
knowing all the springs and motions of them, is too
common a talent among us, and the foundation of a
thousand errors. Here is room enough for specula-
tions; but I advise the reader to let them serve for
his own entertainment, without troubling the world
with his remarks.
TO MONSIEUR MONSIEUR
AT ESTAPLE.ª
SIR,—I doubt not but you are curious, as many
others are, to know the secret of Monsieur Prior's
(an English gentleman) late journey from London
to Paris. Perhaps, living retired as you do, you
"I had rather be thought a good Englishman than the best may not have heard of this person, though some
poet or the greatest scholar that ever wrote.'
""
PRIOR, Preface to "SOLOMON."
I HAVE just thought of a project to bite the town. I have told
you that it is now known that Mr. Prior has been lately in
France. I will make a printer of my own sit by me one day ;
and I will dictate to him a formal relation of Prior's journey,
with several particulars, all pure invention; and I doubt not
but it will take.—Journal to Stella, Aug. 31, 1711.
This morning the printer sent me an account of Prior's jour-
ney; it makes a twopenny pamphlet: I suppose you will see
it, for I dare say it will run. It is a formal grave lie, from the
beginning to the end. I wrote all but the last page; that I
dictated, and the printer wrote. Mr. Secretary sent to me to
dine where he did; it was at Prior's. When I came in Prior
showed me the pamphlet, seemed to be angry, and said, "
is our English liberty !" I read some of it; said "I liked it
mightily, and envied the rogue the thought; for had it come
into my head I should have certainly done it myself." Prior
owned his having been in France, for it was past denying.
"Here
years ago he was very much distinguished at Paris,
and in good esteem even with our august monarch.
I must let you so far into his character as to tell you
that Monsieur Prior has signalised himself both as an
eminent poet and a man of business; was very
much valued by the late king William, who em-
ployed him in important affairs, both in England
and Holland. He was secretary to the English em-
bassy at the treaty of Ryswick, and afterward to my
lords the counts of Portland and Jersey; and in
the absence of the latter managed for some time the
affairs of England at our court by himself. Since
the reign of queen Anne he was employed as com-
missioner of trade; but the ministry changing soon
after queen Anne's coming to the crown, Monsieur
Prior, who was thought too much attached to the
It seems he was discovered by a rascal at Dover, who had posi-rigides [Tories], was laid aside, and lived privately
tive orders to let him pass.-Ibid., Sept. 11.
The printer told me he sold yesterday a thousand of Prior's
Journey, and had printed five hundred more.
It will do rarely,
I believe, and is a pure bite.-Ibid., Sept. 12.
Prior's Journey sells still; they have sold two thousand,
although the town is empty.-Ibid., Sept. 24.
There came out some time ago an account of Mr. Prior's
Journey to France, pretended to be a translation; it is a pure
invention from the beginning to the end. I will let your grace
into the secret of it. The clamours of a party against any peace
without, Spain, and railing at the ministry as if they designed
to ruin us, occasioned that production, out of indignity and con-
tempt, by way of furnishing fools with something to talk of;
and it has had a very great effect.—Letter to Abp. King; Oct. 1,
1711.
THE TRANSLATOR TO THE READER.
THE original of the following discourse was trans-
mitted to me three days ago from the Hague, to
which town it was sent from France; but in the
title-page there was no mention of the place where
it was printed, only the author's name at length
and the year of our Lord. That the tract is genuine
at Cambridge, where he is a professor, till he was
recalled by the present ministry.
About two months ago our king [Lewis XIV.],
resolving once more to give peace to Europe, not-
withstanding the flourishing condition of his fleets and
armies, the good posture of his finances, that his grand-
son was almost entirely settled in the quiet pos-
session of Spain, and that the affairs of the north
were changing every day to his advantage, offered
the court of England to send a minister as far as
Boulogne, who should be there met by some person
from England, to treat the overtures of a peace.
Upon the first notice that this was agreed to, the king
immediately despatched Monsieur de Torcy, in
whom he very much confides, to Boulogne, where
he took lodging in a private house in the Faux-
A seaport town in the Boulonnois.-Swift.
b A mistake of the author: for Monsieur Prior did not retire
to Cambridge, nor is a professor, but a fellow.-Swift.
364
MR. PRIOR'S JOURNEY TO PARIS.
bourg, at one Mr. de Marais, a marchand de soy,
who is married to an Englishwoman, that formerly
had been a suivante to one of the forementioned
English ambassadors' ladies, over against the Hos-
tellerie de St. Jean. Monsieur stayed six days with
much impatience; when, late at evening on Wed-
nesday the 14th of July (new style), a person, whom
we afterward knew to be Monsieur Prior,
directly to the door and inquired for Monsieur de la
Bastide, the name and place, I suppose, having been
before concerted. He was immediately shown unto
Monsieur Torcy, where, as I am informed, they
were shut up for three hours together, without any
refreshment, though Monsieur Prior had rid post
from Calais that day in a great deal of rain. The
next morning I was sent for in all haste by Mon-
sieur de Marais, who told me "That a person of
quality, as he suspected, lately come from England,
had some occasion for a secretary; and, because he
knew I understood the languages, wrote a tolerable
hand, had been conversant with persons of quality,
and formerly trusted with secrets of importance, had
been so kind to recommend me to the said gentle-
man, to serve him in that quality." I was imme-
diately called up and presented to Mr. Prior; who
accosted me with great civility, and after some con-
versation was pleased to tell me, "I had fully an-
swered the character Monsieur de Marais had given
me."
From this time to the day Monsieur Prior
left Calais in order to return to England, I may pre-
tend to give you a faithful account of all his motions,
and some probable conjectures of his whole nego-
tiation between Boulogne and Versailles.
But perhaps, sir, you may be further curious to
know the particulars of Monsieur Prior's journey to
Boulogne. It is reported that, some time before the
peace of Ryswick, king William did despatch this
very gentleman to Paris upon the same account for
which he now came. This possibly might be the
motive (beside the known abilities of Monsieur
Prior) to send him a second time. The following
particulars I heard in discourse between Mademoi-
selle de Marais and her husband; which, being no
great secrets on our side the water, I suppose were
told without consequence.
Monsieur Prior, having received his instructions
from the English court, under pretence of taking a
short journey of pleasure and visiting the chevalier
de H [Sir Thomas Hanmer], in the province
of Suffolk, left his house on Sunday night, the 11th
of July, N.S., taking none of his servants with him.
Monsieur M- , who had already prepared a bark,
with all necessaries, on the coast of Dover, took
Monsieur Prior disguised in his chariot. They lay
on Monday night, the 12th of July, at the count de
Jersey's house in Kent, arrived in good time the
next day at Dover, drove directly to the shore, made
the sign by waving their hats, which was answered
by the vessel, and the boat was immediately sent to
take him in; which he entered, wrapped in his cloak,
and soon got aboard. He was six hours at sea, and
arrived at Calais about eleven at night; went imme-
diately to the governor, who received him with great
respect, where he lay all night; and set out pretty
late the next morning, being somewhat incommoded
with his voyage; and then took post for Boulogne,
as I have before related.
In the first conversation I had the honour to have
with Monsieur Prior he was pleased to talk as if
he would have occasion for my service but a very
few days; and seemed resolved, by his discourse,
that after he had despatched his commission with
Monsieur de la Bastide (for so we shall from hence-
a Probably the countess of Jersey
forward call that minister) he would return to Eng-
land. By this I found I should have but little em-
ployment in quality of secretary; however, having
heard so great a character of him, I was willing to
attend him in any capacity he pleased. Four days
we continued at Boulogne, where Monsieur de la
Bastide and Monsieur Prior had two long confer-
ences every day from ten to one at noon and from
six till nine in the evening. Monsieur Prior did me
the honour to send me some meat and wine con-
stantly from his own table. Upon the third morn-
ing I was ordered to attend early, and observed
Monsieur Prior to have a pleasant countenance.
He asked me "What I thought of a journey to Eng-
land?" and commanded me to be ready at an hour's
warning.
warning. But upon the fourth evening all this was
changed, and I was directed to hire the best horse I
could find for myself.
We set out early the next day, Sunday the 18th,
for Paris, in Monsieur de la Bastide's chaise, whose
two attendants and myself made up the equipage ;
but a small valise, which I suppose contained Mon-
sieur Prior's instructions, he was pleased to trust to
my care to carry on horseback; which trust I dis-
charged with the utmost faithfulness.
Somewhat above two leagues from Boulogne, at
a small village called Neile, the axletree broke,
which took us two hours to mend; we baited at
Montreuil, and lay that night at Abbeville. But I
shall not give you any detail of our journey, which
passed without any considerable accident till we
arrived within four leagues of Paris; when about
three in the afternoon two cavaliers, well mounted
and armed with pistols, crossed the road, then turn-
ed short, and rode up briskly to the chaise, com-
manding the coachman to stop. Monsieur de la
Bastide's two attendants were immediately up with
them; but I, who guessed at the importance of the
charge that Monsieur Prior had intrusted me with,
though I was in no fear for my own person, thought
it most prudent to advance with what speed I could
to a small village, about a quarter of a league for-
ward, to wait the event. I soon observed the chaise
to come on without any disturbance, and I ventured
to meet it; when I found that it was only a frolic of
two young cadets of quality, who had been making
a debauch at a friend's house hard by, and were re-
turning to Paris; one of them was not unknown to
Monsieur de la Bastide. The two cavaliers began
to rally me; said "I knew how to make a retreat;"
with some other pleasantries: but Monsieur Prior
(who knew the cause) highly commended my dis-
cretion. We continued our journey very merrily;
and arrived at Paris on Tuesday the 20th, in the
cool of the evening.
At the entrance of the town our two cavaliers
left us; and Monsieur de la Bastide conducted Mon-
sieur Prior to a private lodging in the Rue St. Louis,
which, by all circumstances, I concluded to be pre-
pared for his reception. Here I first had orders to
say, that the gentleman to whom I had the honour
to belong was called Monsieur Matthews; I then
knew no otherwise. Afterward, at Versailles, I over-
heard, in conversation with Monsieur de la Bastide,
that his real name was Prior.
Monsieur de la Bastide would have had Monsieur
Matthews to have gone with him next morning to
Versailles, but could not prevail with him to comply;
of which I could never be able to learn the reason.
Our minister was very importunate; and Monsieur
Prior seemed to have no fatigue remaining from his
journey: perhaps he might conceive it more suitable
to his dignity that Monsieur de la Bastide should
go before to prepare the king, by giving notice of
MR. PRIOR'S JOURNEY TO PARIS.
365
his arrival. However it were, Monsieur de la Bas-
tide made all haste to Versailles, and returned the
same night. During his absence Monsieur Prior
never stirred out of his chamber; and after dinner
did me the honour to send for me up, "that I might
bear him company," as he was pleased to express it.
I was surprised to hear him wondering at the misery
he had observed in our country in his journey from
Calais; at the scarcity and poverty of the inhabitants,
"which," he said, "did much exceed even what he
had seen in his former journey;" for he owned that
he had been in France before. He seemed to value
himself very much upon the happiness of his own
island, which, as he pretended, had felt no effects
like these upon trade or agriculture.
I made bold to return for answer, "That in our
nation, we only consulted the magnificence and
power of our prince; but that in England, as I was
informed, the wealth of the kingdom was so divided
among the people, that little or nothing was left to
their sovereign; and that it was confidently told
(though hardly believed in France) that some sub-
jects had palaces more magnificent than queen Anne
herself that I hoped, when he went to Ver-
sailles, he would allow the grandeur of our potent
monarch to exceed, not only that of England, but
any other in Europe; by which he would find that
what he called the poverty of our nation was rather
the effect of policy in our court than any real want
or necessity."
Monsieur Prior had no better answer to make me
than "That he was no stranger to our court, the
splendour of our prince, and the maxims by which
he governed; but, for his part, he thought those
countries were happier where the productions of it
were more equally divided." Such unaccountable
notions is the prejudice of education apt to give!
In these and the like discourses we wore away the
time till Monsieur de la Bastide's return; who, after
an hour's private conference with Monsieur Prior,
which I found by their countenances had been
warmly pursued on both sides, a chariot and six
horses (to my great surprise) were instantly ordered,
wherein the two ministers entered, and drove
away with all expedition; myself only attending on
horseback with my important valise.
We got to Versailles on Wednesday the 21st about
eleven at night; but, instead of entering the town, the
coachman drove us a back way into the fields, till
we stopped at a certain vineyard, that I afterward
understood joined to the gardens of Madame Main-
tenon's lodgings. Here the two gentlemen alighted:
Monsieur Prior, calling to me, bade me search in the
valise for a small box of writings; after which, the
coachman was ordered to attend in that place; and
we proceeded on some paces, till we stopped at a
little postern, which opened into the vineyard,
whereof Monsieur de la Bastide had the key. He
opened it very readily, and shut it after them; desiring
me to stay till their return.
I waited with some impatience for three hours:
the great clock struck two before they came out.
The coachman, who I suppose had his instructions
before, as soon as they were got into the chariot,
drove away to a small house at the end of the
town, where Monsieur de la Bastide left us to our-
selves. I observed Monsieur Prior was very thought-
ful; and, without entering into any conversation,
desired my assistance to put him to bed. Next
morning, Thursday the 22nd, I had positive orders
not to stir abroad. About ten o'clock Monsieur de
la Bastide came. The house being small, my apart-
ment was divided from Monsieur Prior's by a thin
wainscot; so that I could easily hear what they said
|
|
when they raised their voice, as they often did.
After some time I could hear Monsieur de la Bastide
say with great warmth, Bon Dieu, &c. "Good God!
were ever such demands made to a great monarch,
unless you were at the gates of his metropolis? For
the love of God! Monsieur Prior, relax something
if your instructions will permit you; else I shall
despair of any good success in our negotiation. Is
it not enough that our king will abandon his grand-
son, but he must lend his own arm to pull him out
of the throne? Why did you not open yourself to
me at Boulogne? Why are you more inexorable here
at Versailles? you have risen in your demands, by
seeing Madame Maintenon's desire for a peace! As
able as you are to continue the war, consider which
is to be most preferred, the good of your country or
the particular advantage of your general; for he will
be the only gainer among your subjects." Monsieur
Prior, who has a low voice, and had not that occa-
sion for passion, answered so softly that I could not
well understand him; but upon parting I heard him
say, "If you insist still on these difficulties, my next
audience will be that of leave."
He
Three hours after, Monsieur de la Bastide returned
again, with a countenance more composed.
asked Mr. Prior if he would give him leave to dine
with him? Having no attendants, I readily offered
my service at table; which Monsieur Prior was
pleased to accept with abundance of apologies. I
found they were come to a better understanding.
Mr. Prior has a great deal of wit and vivacity; he
entertained Monsieur de la Bastide with much plea-
santry, notwithstanding their being upon
the reserve
before me. "That Monsieur," says Mr. Matthews, “if
he were un particulier [a private man], would be the
most agreeable person in the world." I imagined
they spoke of the king; but, going often in and out,
I could not preserve the connexion of their discourse.
"Did you mind how obligingly he inquired whether
our famous Chevalier Newton was still living? He
told me my good friend poor Despreaux [Boileau]
was dead since I was in France, and asked me after
queen Anne's health." These are some of the par-
ticulars I overheard while at dinner; which confirmed
my opinion that Monsieur Prior last night had an au-
dience of his majesty.
About ten that evening Monsieur de la Bastide
came to take Monsieur Matthews to go to the same
place where they were at before. I was permitted to
enter the vineyard, but not the gardens, being left at
the gate to wait their return; which was in about
two hours' time.
two hours' time. The moon shone bright; and
by Monsieur Matthews' manner I thought he ap-
peared somewhat dissatisfied.
peared somewhat dissatisfied. When he came into
his chamber he threw off his hat in some passion,
folded his arms, and walked up and down the room.
for above an hour, extremely pensive: at length he
called to be put to bed, and ordered me to set a
candle by his bed-side, and to fetch him some papers
out of his valise to read.
On Friday the 23rd, in the morning, Monsieur
Matthews was so obliging to call me to him, with
the assurance that he was extremely pleased with
my discretion and manner of address; as a proof of
which satisfaction, he would give me leave to satisfy
my curiosity with seeing so fine a place as Versailles;
telling me "he should return next day toward Bou-
logne;" and therefore advised me to go immediately
to view the palace; with this caution (though he
did not suppose I needed it), not to say anything of
the occasion that brought me to Versailles.
Monsieur de la Bastide having stayed the after-
By this and some other preceding particulars we may dis-
cover what sort of secretary the author was.-Swift.
366
MR. PRIOR'S JOURNEY TO PARIS.
noon with Monsieur Matthews, about eight o'clock
they went to the rendezvous. My curiosity had led
me in the morning to take a stricter view of the
vineyard and gardens. I remained at the gate as
before. In an hour and a half's time Monsieur
Matthews, with Monsieur de la Bastide, another
gentleman, and a lady, came into the walk. De la
Bastide opened the gate, and held it some time in
his hand. While Monsieur Matthews was taking
his leave of those persons, I heard the lady say, at
parting, Monsieur, songez-vous, &c. "Consider this
night on what we have said to you." The gentle-
man seconded her, saying Oui, oui, monsieur,
songer-vous en pour la dernière fois. Ay, ay, sir,
consider of it for the last time." To which Mon-
sieur Matthews answered briskly in going out, Sire,
tout ou rien, &c. "Sir, all or none, as I have had
the honour to tell your majesty before." Which
puts it beyond dispute what the quality of those
persons were by whom Monsieur Matthews had
the honour to be entertained.
that I was sure there were great numbers of mar.
quises in France who had ten thousand livres
a-year." I tell you this passage to let you see that
the wisest men have some prejudices of their country
about them. We got to Calais on Wednesday the
28th, in the evening; and the next morning (the
29th) I took my leave of Monsieur Prior; who,
thanking me in the civilest manner in the world
for the service I had done him, very nobly made me
a present of twenty pistoles; and so we parted.
He put to sea with a fair wind, and I suppose in a
few hours landed in England.
This, sir, is the utmost I am able to inform you
about Monsieur Prior's journey and negotiation.
Time alone will let us know the events of it, which
are yet in the dark.-I am, sir, your most obedient
and most humble servant,
DU BAUDRIER.
POSTSCRIPT BY THE TRANSLATOR.
THE author of this tract, having left his master on
shipboard at Calais, had, it seems, no further intel-
ligence when he published it: neither am I able to
supply it, but by what passes in common report;
which, being in everybody's mouth, but with no
certainty, I think it needless to repeat.
On Saturday the 24th Monsieur Matthews kept
close as before; telling me "a post-chaise was or-
dered to carry him to Calais; and he would do me
the grace to take me with him to keep him company
in the journey, for he should leave Monsieur de la
Bastide at Versailles." While we were discoursing
that gentleman came in, with an open air and a
smiling countenance. He embraced Monsieur MEMBERS OF THE OCTOBER CLUB.
Matthews, and seemed to feel so much joy that he
could not easily conceal it. I left the chamber, and
retired to my own; whence I could hear him say,
"Courage, Monsieur: no travelling to-day. Ma-
dame Maintenon will have me once more conduct
you to her.”
After which I was called, and re-
ceived orders about dinner, &c. Monsieur de la
Bastide told me "We should set out about mid-
night." He stayed the rest of the day with Mon-
sieur Matthews. About ten o'clock they went
forth, but dispensed with my attendance; it was one
in the morning before they returned, though the
chaise was at the gate soon after eleven. Monsieur
Matthews took a morsel of bread and a large glass
of Hermitage wine; after which they embraced
with much kindness, and so parted.
Our journey to Calais passed without any accident
worth informing you. Mr. Prior, who is of a consti-
tution somewhat tender, was troubled with a rheum,
which made speaking uneasy to him: but it was not so
at all to me; and therefore I entertained him as well as
I could, chiefly with the praises of our great monarch,
the magnificence of his court, the number of his attend-
ants, the awe and veneration paid him by his gene-
rals and ministers, and the immense riches of the
kingdom. One afternoon, in a small village between
Chaumont and Beauvais, as I was discoursing on
this subject, several poor people followed the chaise
to beg our charity: one louder than the rest, a
comely person about fifty, all in rags, but with a
mien that showed him to be of a good house, cried
out, Monsieur, pour l'amour de Dieu, &c. "Sir, for
the love of God, give something to the Marquis de
Sourdis!" Mr. Prior, half asleep, roused himself
up at the name of Marquis, called the poor gentle-
man to him, and, observing something in his beha-
viour like a man of quality, very generously threw
him a pistole. As the coach went on, Monsieur
Prior asked me with much surprise "Whether I
thought it possible that unhappy creature could be
un veritable marquis; for, if it were so, surely the
miseries of our country must be much greater than
even our very enemies could hope or believe?"
made bold to tell him "That I thought we could
not well judge from particulars to generals: and
I
SOME ADVICE HUMBLY OFFERED TO THE
IN A LETTER FROM A PERSON OF HONOUR.a
I HAVE made Ford copy a small pamphlet, and send to the press,
that I might not be known for its author; 'tis A Letter to the
Oclober Club, if you ever heard of such a thing.-Journal to
Stella, Jan. 18, 1711-12.
I dined in the city, where my printer showed me a pamphlet,
called Advice to the October Club, which he said was sent him
by an unknown hand, I commended it mightily; he never
suspected me; 'tis a twopenny pamphlet.-Ibid., Jan. 21.
I was to-night at lord Masham's. Lord Dupplin took out
my new little pamphlet; and the secretary read a great deal to
lord-treasurer. They all commended it to the skies, and so did
But I doubt lord-
I; and they began a health to the author.
treasurer suspected; for he said, "This is Dr. Davenant's style;"
which is his cant when he suspects me. But I carried the mat-
ter very well. Lord-treasurer put the pamphlet in his pocket
to read at home.-Ibid., Jan. 23.
The little twopenny Letter of Advice to the October Club does
not sell. I know not the reason; for it is finely written, I as-
sure you; and, like a true author, I grow fond of it because it
does not sell. You know that is usual to writers, to condemn
the judgment of the world. If I had hinted it to be mine every-
body would have bought it, but it is a great secret.—Ibid., Jan.
23.
The pamphlet of Advice to the October Club begins now to sell;
but I believe its fame will hardly reach Ireland: 'tis finely
written, I assure you.-Ibid., Feb. 1.
THE PUBLISHER'S PREFACE.
ABOUT the year when her late majesty, of blessed
memory, thought proper to change her ministry, and
brought in Mr. Harley, Mr. St. John, sir Šimon
Harcourt, and some others; the first of these being
made an earl and lord-treasurer, he was soon after
blamed by the friends for not making a general
sweep of all the Whigs, as the latter did of their
adversaries upon her majesty's death, when they
came into power. At that time a great number of
parliament-men, amounting to above two hundred,
grew so warm upon the slowness of the treasurer in
this part, that they formed themselves into a body
under the name of the October Club, and had many
meetings to consult upon some methods that might
spur on those in power, so that they might make a
quicker despatch in removing all of the Whig leaven
from the employments they still possessed. To pre-
vent the ill consequences of this discontent among
so many worthy members, the rest of the ministry
Supposed at the time to have been lord IIarcourt.
A
SOME ADVICE TO THE MEMBERS OF THE OCTOBER CLUB.
367
joined with the treasurer, partly to pacify and
partly divide those who were in greater haste than
moderate men thought convenient. It was well
known that the supposed author met a considerable
number of this club in a public-house, where he
convinced them very plainly of the treasurer's sin-
cerity, with many of those very reasons which are
urged in the following discourse, beside some others
which were not so proper to appear at that time in
print.
Thus
The treasurer alleged in his defence, that such a
treatment would not consist with prudence, because
there were many employments to be bestowed
which required skill and practice; that several gen-
tlemen who possessed them had been long versed,
very loyal to her majesty, had never been violent
party-men, and were ready to fall into all honest
measures for the service of their queen and country.
But, however, as offices became vacant, he would
humbly recommend to her majesty such gentlemen
whose principles, with regard both to church and
state, his friends would approve of, and he would
be ready to accept their recommendations.
the earl proceeded in procuring employments for
those who deserved them by their honesty, and
abilities to execute them; which, I confess, to have
been a singularity not very likely to be imitated.
However, the gentlemen of this club still continued
uneasy that no quicker progress was made in re-
movals, until those who were least violent began to
soften a little, or, by dividing them, the whole
affair dropped. During this difficulty we have been
assured that the following discourse was very sea-
sonably published with great success; showing the
difficulties that the earl of Oxford lay under, and
his real desire that all persons in employment should
be true loyal churchmen, zealous for her majesty's
honour and safety, as well as for the succession in
the house of Hanover, if the queen should happen
to die without issue. This discourse, having been
published about the year 1711, and many of the
facts forgotten, would not have been generally un-
derstood without some explanation, which we have
now endeavoured to give, because it seems a point of
history too material to be lost. We owe this piece of
intelligence to an intimate of the supposed author.
SOME ADVICE, &c.
GENTLEMEN,-Since the first institution of your so-
ciety I have always thought you capable of the
greatest things. Such a number of persons, mem-
bers of parliament, true lovers of our constitution in
church and state, meeting at certain times, and
mixing business and conversation together, without
the forms and constraint necessary to be observed
in public assemblies, must very much improve each
other's understanding, correct and fix your judg-
ment, and prepare yourselves against any designs of
the opposite party. Upon the opening of this ses-
sion an incident has happened, to provide against
the consequences whereof will require your utmost
vigilance and application. All this last summer
the enemy was working underground, and laying
their train; they gradually became more frequent
and bold in their pamphlets and papers, while those
on our side were dropped, as if we had no further
occasion for them. Some time before, an opportu-
nity fell into their hands which they have cultivated
ever since; and thereby have endeavoured, in some
sort, to turn those arts against us which had been
so effectually employed to their ruin: a plain de-
monstration of their superior skill at intrigue, to
make a stratagem succeed a second time, and this
even against those who first tried it upon them. I
know not whether this opportunity I have men-
tioned could have been prevented by any care with-
out straining a very tender point; which those
chiefly concerned avoided by all means, because it
might seem a counterpart of what they had so much
condemned in their predecessors; although it is
certain the two cases were widely different; and if
policy had once got the better of good nature, all
had been safe, for there was no danger in view; but
the consequences of this were foreseen from the be-
ginning; and those who kept the watch had early
warning of it. It would have been a masterpiece
of prudence in this case to have made a friend of
an enemy. But whether that were possible to be
compassed, or whether it were ever attempted, is
now too late to inquire. All accommodation was
rendered desperate by an unlucky proceeding some
months ago at Windsor, which was a declaration of
war too frank and generous for that situation of
affairs, and
affairs, and I am told was not approved of by a
certain great minister [the lord-treasurer]. It was
obvious to suppose that, in a particular where the
honour and interest of a husband were so closely
united with those of a wife, he might be sure of her
utmost endeavours for his protection, although she
neither loved nor esteemed him. The danger of
losing power, favour, profit, and shelter from do-
mestic tyranny, were strong incitements to stir up a
working brain, early practised in all the arts of in-
triguing. Neither is it safe to count upon the weak-
ness of any man's understanding who is thoroughly
possessed with the spirit of revenge to sharpen his
invention: nothing else is required beside obsequi-
ousness and assiduity; which, as they are often the
talents of those who have no better, so they are apt to
make impressions upon the best and greatest minds.
It was no small advantage to the designing party
that, since the adventure at Windsor, the person on
whom we so much depend [the lord-treasurer] was
long absent by sickness, which hindered him from
pursuing those measures that ministers are in pru-
dence forced to take to defend their country and
themselves against an irritated faction.
The nego-
tiators on the other side improved this favourable
conjuncture to the utmost, and, by an unparalleled
boldness, accompanied with many falsehoods, per-
suaded certain lords (who were already in the same
principle, but were afraid of making a wrong step,
lest it should lead them out of their coaches into the
dirt) that voting in appearance against the court
would be the safest course to avoid the danger they
most apprehended, which was that of losing their
pensions; and their opinions, when produced, by
seemingly contradicting their interest, have an ap-
pearance of virtue into the bargain. This, with some
arguments of more immediate power, went far in
producing that strange unexpected turn we have so
lately seen, and from which our adversaries reckoned
upon such wonderful effects, and some of them, par-
ticularly my lord chief-justice, began to act as if all
were already in their power.
But although the more immediate causes of this
desertion were what I have above related, yet I am
apt to think it would hardly have been attempted,
or at least not have succeeded, but for a prevailing
opinion that the church-party and the ministers had
different views, or at least were not so firmly united
as they ought to have been. It was commonly said,
and I suppose not without some ground of truth,
that many gentlemen of your club were discontented
The queen's favour for the duchess of Somerset, groom of
the stole.
b A severe quarrel between Mrs. Masham and the duchess.
368
SOME ADVICE TO THE MEMBERS OF THE OCTOBER CLUB.
to find so little done; that they thought it looked as
if the people were not in earnest; that they expected
to see a thorough change with respect to employ-
ments; and although every man could not be pro-
vided for, yet, when all places were filled with persons
of good principles, there would be fewer complaints
and less danger from the other party; that this change
was hoped for all last summer, and even to the open-
ing of the session, yet nothing done. On the other
hand, it was urged by some in favour of the ministry
that it was impossible to find employments for one
pretender in twenty, and therefore, in gratifying one,
nineteen would be disobliged; but while all had
leave to hope, they would all endeavour to deserve:
but this again was esteemed a very shallow policy,
which was too easily seen through, must soon come
to an end, and would cause a general discontent,
with twenty other objections to which it was liable;
and indeed, considering the short life of ministers in
our climate, it was with some reason thought a little
hard that those for whom any employment was in-
tended should by such a delay be probably deprived of
half their benefit, not to mention that a ministry is best
confirmed when all inferior officers are in its interest.
I have set this cause of complaint in the strongest
light, although my design is to endeavour that it
should have no manner of weight with you, as I am
confident our adversaries counted upon, and do still
expect to find mighty advantages by it.
But it is necessary to say something to this objec-
tion, which, in all appearance, lies so hard upon the
present ministry. What shall I offer upon so tender
a point? How shall I convey an answer that none
will apprehend except those for whom I intend it?
I have often pitied the condition of great ministers
upon several accounts, but never so much upon any
as when their duty obliges them to bear the blame
and envy of actions for which they will not be an-
swerable in the next world, though they dare not
convince the present till it is too late. This letter
is sent you, gentlemen, from no mean hand, nor
from a person uninformed, though, for the rest, as
little concerned in point of interest for any change
of ministry as most others of his fellow-subjects. I
may therefore assume so much to myself as to desire
you will depend upon it that a short time will make
manifest how little the defect you complain of ought
to lie at that door where your enemies would be
glad to see you place it. The wisest man, who is not
very near the spring of affairs, but views them only
in their issues and events, will be apt to fix applauses
and reproaches in the wrong place, which is the true
cause of a weakness that I never yet knew great
ministers without; I mean their being deaf to all
advice; for if a person of the best understanding offers
his opinion in a point where he is not master of all
the circumstances (which, perhaps, are not to be
told), 'tis a hundred to one but he runs into an ab-
surdity, whence it is that ministers falsely conclude
themselves to be equally wiser than others in general
things, where the common reason of mankind ought
to be the judge, and is probably less biassed than
theirs. I have known a great man [lord Godolphin]
of excellent parts blindly pursue a point of no im-
portance, against the advice of every friend he had,
till it ended in his ruin. I have seen great abilities
rendered utterly useless by unaccountable and unne-
cessary delay and by difficulty of access, by which a
thousand opportunities are suffered to escape.
I
have observed the strongest shoulders sink under
too great a load of business for want of dividing a
due proportion among others. These, and more
that might be named, are very obvious failings, which
every rational man may be allowed to discern as
well as lament, and wherein the wisest minister may
receive advice from others of inferior understanding.
But in those actions where we are not thoroughly
informed of all the motives and circumstances, it is
hardly possible that our judgment should not be
mistaken. I have often been one of the company
where we have all blamed a measure taken which
has afterward proved the only one that could pos-
sibly have succeeded. Nay, I have known those
very men who have formerly been in the secret of
affairs, when a new set of people hath come in,
offering their refinements and conjectures in a very
plausible manner upon what was passing, and widely
err in all they advanced.
:
Whatever occasions may have been given for com-
plaints that enough has not been done, those com-
plaints should not be carried so far as to make us
forget what hath been done, which, at first, was a
great deal more than we hoped or thought prac-
ticable; and you may be assured that so much cou-
rage and address were not employed in the beginning
of so great a work without a resolution of carrying
it through as fast as opportunities would offer. Any
of the most sanguine gentlemen in your club would
gladly have compounded, two years ago, to have
been assured of seeing affairs in the present situa-
tion it is principally to the abilities of one great
person that you gentlemen owe the happiness of
meeting together, to cultivate the good principles
and form yourselves into a body for defending your
country against a restless and dangerous faction.
It is to the same we all owe that mighty change in
the most important posts of the kingdom; that we
see the sacred person of our prince encompassed by
those whom we ourselves would have chosen if it
had been left to our power; and if everything besides
that you could wish has not been hitherto done, you
will be but just to impute it to some powerful
though unknown impediments, wherein the ministry
is more to be lamented than blamed. But there is
good reason to hope, from the vigorous proceedings
of the court, that these impediments will in a short
time effectually be removed, and one great motive
to hasten the removal of them will doubtless be the
reflection upon those dangerous consequences which
had like to have ensued upon not removing them
before. Besides, after so plain and formidable a
conviction that mild and moderate methods meet
with no other reception or return than to serve as
opportunities to the insatiable malice of an enemy,
power will awake to vindicate itself, and disarm its
opposers, at least of all offensive weapons.
Consider if you please how hard beset the present
ministry has been on every side; by the impossibility
of carrying on the war any longer without taking
the most desperate courses; or of recovering Spain
from the house of Bourbon, although we could con-
tinue it many years longer; by the clamours of a
faction against any peace without that condition
which the most knowing among themselves allowed
to be impracticable; by the secret cabals of foreign
ministers, who endeavoured to inflame our people,
and spirited up a sinking faction to blast our endea-
vours for peace, with those popular reproaches of
France and the pretender; not to mention the danger
they have been in from private insinuations of such
a nature as it was almost impossible to fence against.
These clouds now begin to blow over, and those who
are at the helm will have leisure to look about
them, and complete what yet remains to be done.
That confederate body which now makes up the
adverse party consists of a union so monstrous and
unnatural, that in a little time it must of necessity fall
to pieces. The dissenters, with reason, think them-
SOME ADVICE TO THE MEMBERS OF THE OCTOBER CLUB.
369
selves betrayed and sold by their brethren. What
they have been told, that the present bill against
occasional conformity was to prevent a greater evil,
is an excuse too gross to pass; and if any other
profound refinement was meant, it is now come
to nothing. The remaining sections of the party
have no other tie but that of an inveterate hatred
and rancour against those in power, without agree-
ing in any other common interest, nor cemented by
principle or personal friendship: I speak particularly
of their leaders; and although I know that court
enmities are as inconstant as its friendships, yet,
from the difference of temper and principle, as well
as the scars remaining of former animosities, I am
persuaded their league will not be of long continu-
ance: I know several of them who will never pardon
those with whom they are now in confederacy; and
when once they see the present ministry thoroughly
fixed, they will grow weary of hunting upon a cold
scent or playing a desperate game, and crumble away.
On the other side, while the malice of that party
continues in vigour, while they yet feel the bruises
of their fall, which pain them afresh since their late
disappointment, they will leave no arts untried to
recover themselves; and it behoves all who have any
regard for the safety of the queen or her kingdom
to join unanimously against an adversary who will
return full fraught with vengeance upon the first
opportunity that shall offer; and this perhaps is more
to be regarded, because that party seem yet to have
a reserve of hope in the same quarter whence their
last reinforcement came. Neither can anything cul-
tivate this hope of theirs so much as a disagreement
among ourselves, founded upon a jealousy of the
ministry, who, I think, need no better a testimony
of their good intentions than the incessant rage of
the party-leaders against them.
There is one fault which both sides are apt to
charge upon themselves, and very generously com-
mend their adversaries for the contrary virtue. The
Tories acknowledge that the Whigs outdid them in
rewarding their friends and adhering to each other;
the Whigs allow the same to the Tories. I am apt
to think that the former may a little excel the latter
in this point, for, doubtless, the Tories are less vin-
dictive of the two; and whoever is remiss in punish-
ing will probably be so in rewarding; although, at
the same time, I well remember the clamours often
raised during the reign of that party against the
leaders by those who thought their merits were not
rewarded; and they had reason on their side, because
it is no doubt a misfortune to forfeit honour and
conscience for nothing: but surely the case is very
different at this time, when whoever adheres to the
administration does service to God, his prince, and
his country, as well as contributes to his own private
interest and safety.
But if the Whig leaders were more grateful in
rewarding their friends, it must be avowed likewise
that the bulk of them were in general more zealous
for the service of their party, even when abstracted
from any private advantage, as might be observed in
a thousand instances; for which I would likewise
commend them if it were not unnatural for mankind
to be more violent in an ill cause than a good one.
The perpetual discord of factions, with several
changes of late years in the very nature of our go-
vernment, have controlled many maxims among us.
The court and country party, which used to be the
old division, seems now to be ceased, or suspended
for better times and worse princes. The queen and
ministry are at this time fully in the true interest of
the kingdom; and therefore the court and country
are of a side; and the Whigs, who originally were
VOL. I.
|
of the latter, are now of neither, but an independent
faction, nursed up by the necessities or mistakes of a
late good although unexperienced prince. Court
and country ought therefore to join their forces
against these common enemies until they are en-
tirely dispersed and disabled. It is enough to arm
ourselves against them when we consider that the
greatest misfortunes which can befal the nation are
what would most answer their interest and their
wishes; a perpetual war increases their money, and
breaks and beggars their landed enemies. The ruin
of the church would please the dissenters, deists,
and socinians, whereof the body of their party con-
sists. A commonwealth, or a protector, would
gratify the republican principles of some, and the
| ambition of others among them.
Hence I would infer that no discontents of an in-
ferior nature, such I mean as I have already men-
tioned, should be carried so far as to give any ill
impression of the present ministry.
If all things
have not been hitherto done as you, gentlemen,
could reasonably wish, it can be imputed only to
the secret instruments of that faction. The truth
of this has appeared from some late incidents more
visibly than formerly.
visibly than formerly. Neither do I believe that
any one will now make a doubt whether a certain
person [the lord-treasurer] be in earnest, after the
united and avowed endeavours of a whole party to
strike directly at his head.
When it happens, by some private cross intrigues,
that a great man has not that power which is thought
due to his station, he will however probably desire
the reputation of it, without which he neither can
preserve the dignity, nor hardly go through the com-
mon business, of his place; yet is it that reputation
to which he owes all the envy and hatred of others,
as well as his own disquiets. Meantime, his ex-
pecting friends impute all their disappointments to
some deep design, or to his defect of good will; and
his enemies are sure to cry up his excess of power,
especially in those points where they are confident
it is most shortened.
it is most shortened. A minister, in this difficult
case, is sometimes forced to preserve his credit by
forbearing what is in his power, for fear of discover-
ing how far the limits extend of what is not; or,
perhaps, for fear of showing an inclination contrary
to that of his master. Yet all this while he lies
under the reproach of delay, unsteadiness, or want
of sincerity. So that there are many inconveniences
and dangers either in discovering or concealing the
want of power. Neither is it hard to conceive that
ministers may happen to suffer for the sins of their
predecessors, who, by their great abuses and mono-
polies of power and favour, have taught princes to
be more thrifty for the future in the distribution of
both. And as in common life, whoever has been
long confined is very fond of his liberty, and will not
easily endure the very appearance of restraint, even
from those who have been the instruments of setting
him free; so it is with the recovery of power, which
is usually attended with an undistinguished jealousy,
lest it should be again invaded. In such a juncture
I cannot discover why a wise and honest man should
venture to place himself at the head of affairs upon any
other regard than the safety of his country, and the ad-
vice of Socrates, to prevent an ill man from coming in.
Upon the whole, I do not see any one ground of
suspicion or dislike which you, gentlemen, or others
who wish well to their country, may have enter-
tained about persons or proceedings but what may
probably be misapprehended, even by those who
think they have the best information. Nay, I will
venture to go one step further, by adding that, although
it may not be prudent to speak out upon this occa-
2 B
370
LETTER TO A WHIG LORD.
sion, yet whoever will reason impartially upon the
whole state of affairs must entirely acquit the mi-
nistry of that delay and neutrality which have been
laid to their charge. Or, suppose some small part
of this accusation were true (which I positively
know to be otherwise, whereof the world will soon
be convinced), yet the consequences of any resent-
ment at this time must either be none at all, or the
most fatal that can be imagined; for, if the present
ministry be made so uneasy that a change be thought
necessary, things will return of course into the old
hands of those whose little fingers will be found
heavier than their predecessors' loins. The Whig
faction is so dexterous at corrupting, and the people
so susceptible of it, that you cannot be ignorant how
easy it will be after such a turn of affairs, upon a
new election, to procure a majority against you.
They will resume their power, with a spirit like
that of Marius or Sylla, or the last triumvirate; and
those ministers who have been most censured for
too much hesitation will fall the first sacrifices to
their vengeance; but these are the smallest mis-
chiefs to be apprehended from such returning exiles.
What security can a prince hope for his person, or
his crown, or even for the monarchy itself? He
must expect to see his best friends brought to the
scaffold for asserting his rights; to see his preroga-
tive trampled on, and his treasure applied to feed
the avarice of those who make themselves his keepers;
to hear himself treated with insolence and contempt;
to have his family purged at pleasure by their humour
and malice; and to retain even the name and shadow
of a king no longer than his ephori shall think fit.
These are the inevitable consequences of such a
change of affairs as that envenomed party is now
projecting, which will best be prevented by your
firmly adhering to the present ministry until this
domestic enemy is out of all possibility of making
head any more.
SOME REASONS
TO PROVE THAT NO ONE IS OBLIGED, BY HIS
PRINCIPLES AS A WHIG, TO OPPOSE THE QUEEN:
IN A LETTER TO A WHIG LORD.ª
To which is annexed,
A SUPPOSED LETTER
FROM THE PRETENDER TO ANOTHER WHIG LORD.
I WAS with my friend Lewis to-day, getting materials for a little
mischief.--Journal to Stella, May 28, 1712.
Things are now in the way of being soon in the extremes of
well or ill I hope and believe the first. Lord Wharton is gone
out of town in a rage; and curses himself and friends for ruining
themselves in defending lord Marlborough and Godolphin, and
taking Nottingham into their favour. He swears he will med-
dle no more during this reign; a pretty speech at sixty-six; and
the queen is near twenty years younger, and now in very good
health Read the letter to a Whig Lord."-Ibid., June 17.
1
To-day there will be another Grub: A Letter from the Pre-
tender to a Whig Lord. Grub-street has but ten days to live;
then an act of parliament takes place that ruins it, by taxing
every half-sheet at a halfpenny.-Ibid., July 19.
SOME REASONS, &c.
MY LORD,-The dispute between your lordship and
me has, I think, no manner of relation to what, in
the common style of these times, are called prin-
ciples; wherein both parties seem well enough to
agree if we will but allow their professions. I can
The lord Ashburnham.
b Dr. Birch, in a note on this passage, supposes it to allude to
the Letter from the Pretender, which however is not dated till
July 8.-It evidently relates to the larger letter. A MS. note
of Charles Ford, esq., the confidential friend of Swift, not only
confirms the fact of this letter being the production of the dean,
but supplies the name of lord Ashburnham, the peer to whom
it was addressed
truly affirm that none of the reasonable sober Whigs
I have conversed with did ever avow any opinion
concerning religion or government which I was not
willing to subscribe; so that, according to my judg-
ment, those terms of distinction ought to be dropped,
and others introduced in their stead to denominate
men as they are inclined to peace or war, to the last
or the present ministry; for whoever thoroughly
considers the matter will find these to be the only
differences that divide the nation at present. I am
apt to think your lordship would readily allow this
if you were not aware of the consequence I intend
to draw; for it is plain that the making peace and
war, as well as the choice of ministers, is wholly in
the crown; and therefore the dispute at present lies
altogether between those who would support and
those who would violate the royal prerogative. This
decision may seem, perhaps, too sudden and severe;
but I do not see how it can be contested.
Give me
leave to ask your lordship whether you are not re-
solved to oppose the present ministry to the utmost?
And whether it was not chiefly with this design
that, upon the opening of the present session, you
gave your vote against any peace till Spain and the
West Indies were recovered from the Bourbon
family? I am confident your lordship then be-
lieved, what several of your house and party have
acknowledged, that the recovery of Spain was grown
impracticable by several incidents, as well as by our
utter inability to continue the war upon the former
foot. But you reasoned right, that such a vote, in
such a juncture, was the present way of ruining the
present ministry. For as her majesty would cer-
tainly lay much weight upon a vote of either house,
so it was judged that her ministers would hardly
venture to act directly against it; the natural con-
sequence of which must be a dissolution of the par-
liament, and a return of all your friends into a full
possession of power. This advantage the lords have
over the commons, by being a fixed body of men,
where a majority is not to be obtained but by time.
and mortality, or new creations, or other methods.
which I will suppose the present age too virtuous to
admit. Several noble lords who joined with you.
in that vote were but little inclined to disoblige the
court, because it suited ill with their circumstances;
but the poor gentlemen were told that it was the
safest part they could act; for it was boldly alleged
that the queen herself was at the bottom of this
affair; and one of your neighbours, whom the
dread of losing a great employment often puts into
agonies, was growing fast into a very good courtier,
began to cultivate the chief minister, and often ex-
pressed his approbation of present proceedings, till
that unfortunate day of trial came, when the mighty
hopes of a change revived his constancy and encou-
But the
raged him to adhere to his old friends.
event, as your lordship saw, was directly contrary to
what your great undertaker had flattered you with.
The queen was so far from approving what you had
done, that, to show she was in earnest, and to re-
move all future apprehensions from that quarter,
she took a resolute necessary step, which is like to
make her easy for the rest of her reign; and which,
I am confident, your lordship would not have been
one of those to have put her upon, if you had not
been most shamefully misinformed. After this, your
party had nothing to do but sit down and murmur
at so extraordinary an exertion of the prerogative,
and quarrel at a necessity which their own violence,
inflamed by the treachery of others, had created.
Now, my lord, if an action so indisputably in her
a
" Charles Seymour, duke of Somerset, master of the horse.
By creating twelve new peers,
b
LETTER TO A WHIG LORD.
371
majesty's power requires any excuse, we have a very
good one at hand. We alleged that the majority
you hardly acquired with so much art and manage-
ment, partly made up from a certain transitory
bench, and partly of those whose nobility began
with themselves, was wholly formed during the long
power of your friends; so that it became necessary
to turn the balance by new creations, wherein, how-
ever, great care was taken to increase the peerage
as little as possible,a and to make a choice against
which no objection could be raised with relation to
birth or fortune, or other qualifications requisite for
so high an honour.
There is no man hath a greater veneration than I
for that noble part of our legislature whereof your
lordship is a member; and I will venture to assert,
that, supposing it possible for corruptions to go far
in either assembly, yours is less liable to them than
a house of commons. A standing senate of persons
nobly born, of great patrimonial estates, and of pious
learned prelates, is not easily perverted from intend-
ing the true interest of their prince and country;
whereas we have found by experience that a corrupt
ministry, at the head of a moneyed faction, is able to
procure a majority of whom they please to represent
the people. But then, my lord, on the other side, if
it has been so contrived by time and management
that the majority of a standing senate is made up
of those who wilfully or otherwise mistake the public
good, the cure by common remedies is as slow as
the disease: whereas a good prince, in the hearts of
his people, and at the head of a ministry who leaves
them to their own free choice, cannot miss a good
assembly of commons. Now, my lord, we do assert
that this majority of yours has been the workman-
ship of about twenty years; during which time,
considering the choice of persons in the several
creations; considering the many arts used in making
proselytes among the young nobility who have since
grown up, and the wise methods to prevent their
being tainted by university principles; lastly, consi-
dering the age of those who fill up a certain bench.
[the bishops], and with what views their successions
have been supplied; I am surprised to find your
majority so bare and weak, that it is not possible for
you to keep it much longer, unless old men be im-
mortal; neither, perhaps, would there be any neces-
sity to wait so long if certain methods were put in
practice which your friends have often tried with
success. Your lordship plainly sees by the event
that neither threats nor promises are made use of,
where it is pretty well agreed that they would not
be ineffectual. Voting against the court, and indeed
against the kingdom, in the most important cases,
has not been followed by the loss of places or pen
sions, unless in very few particulars, where the cir-
cumstances have been so extremely aggravating, that
to have been passive would have argued the lowest
weakness or fear. To instance only in the duke of
Marlborough, who against the wholesome advice of
those who consulted his true interest much better
than his flatterers, would needs put all upon that
desperate issue, of destroying the present ministry
or falling himself.
I believe, my lord, you are now fully convinced
that the queen is altogether averse from the thoughts
of ever employing your party in her councils or her
court. You see a prodigious majority in the house
of commons of the same sentiments; and the only
quarrel against the treasurer is an opinion of more
This promotion was so ordered that a third part were of those
on whom, or their posterity, the peerage would naturally de-
volve; and the rest were such whose merit, birth, and fortune
could admit of no exception.-Swift.
mildness toward your friends than it is thought they
deserve; neither can you hope for better success in
the next election, while her majesty continues her
present servants, although the bulk of the people
were better disposed to you than it is manifest they
are. With all the advantages I lately mentioned,
which a house of lords has over the commons, it is
agreed that the pulse of the nation is much better
felt by the latter than the former, because those re-
present the whole people; but your lordships (what-
ever some may pretend) do represent only your own
persons. Now, it has been the old complaint of
your party, that the body of country gentlemen
always leaned too much (since the Revolution) to
the Tory side: and as your numbers were much
lessened about two years ago, by a very unpopular
quarrel [the impeachment of Sacheverel], wherein
the church thought itself deeply concerned, so you
daily diminish by your zeal against peace, which the
landed men, half ruined by the war, do so extremely
want and desire.
It is probable that some persons may upon occa-
sion have endeavoured to bring you over to the present
measures. If so, I desire to know whether such
persons required of you to change any principles
relating to government, either in church or state, in
which you have been educated? or did you ever hear
that such a thing was offered to any other of your
party? I am sure neither can be affirmed; and
then it is plain that principles are not concerned
in the dispute. The two chief, or indeed the only,
topics of quarrel are,
topics of quarrel are, whether the queen shall choose
her own servants, and whether she shall keep her
prerogative of making peace. And I believe there
is no Whig in England that will openly deny her
power in either. As to the latter, which is the more
avowed, her majesty has promised that the treaty
shall be laid before her parliament; after which, if
it be made without their approbation, and proves to
be against the interest of the kingdom, the ministers
must answer for it at their extremest peril. What
is there in all this that can possibly affect your prin-
ciples as a Whig? or rather, my lord, are you not, by
all sorts of principles lawful to own, obliged to ac-
quiesce and submit to her majesty upon this article?
But I suppose, my lord, you will not make a diffi
culty of confessing the true genuine cause of animo-
sity to be, that those who are out of place would
fain be in; and that the bulk of your party are the
dupes of half a dozen, who are impatient at their
loss of power. It is true, they would fain infuse into
your lordship such strange opinions of the present
ministry and their intentions as none of themselves
at all believe. Has your lordship observed the least
step made toward giving any suspicion of a design
to alter the succession, to introduce arbitrary power,
or to hurt the toleration, unless you will reckon the
last to have been damaged by the bill lately obtained
against occasional conformity, which was your own
act and deed,a by a strain of such profound policy,
and the contrivance of so profound a politician, that
I cannot unravel it to the bottom.
Pray, my lord, give yourself leave to consider
whence this indefatigable zeal is derived, that makes
the heads of your party send you a hundred messages,
accost you in all places, and move heaven and
earth to procure your vote upon a pinch, whenever
they think it lies in their
they think it lies in their way to distress the queen
and ministry. Those who have already rendered
themselves desperate have no other resource than
in an utter change. But this is by no means your
While others were at the head of
lordship's case.
1
By a compromise with the Whigs and their proselyte the
carl of Nottingham.
2 B 2
372
LETTER TO A WHIG LORD.
affairs, you served the queen with no more share
in them than what belonged to you as a peer;
although, perhaps, you were inclined to their persons
or proceedings more than to those of the present
set. Those who are now in power cannot justly
blame you for doing so; neither can your friends out
of place reproach you if you go on to serve her
majesty and make her easy in her government, un-
less they can prove that unlawful or unreasonable
things are demanded of you. I cannot see how your
conscience or honour are here concerned; or why
people who have cast off all hope should desire you
to embark with them against your prince, whom you
have never directly offended. It is just as if a man
who had committed a murder, and was flying his
country, should desire all his friends and acquaint-
ance to bear him company in his flight and banish-
ment. Neither do I see how this will anyway an-
swer your interest; for though it should possibly
happen that your friends would be again taken into
power your lordship cannot expect they will admit
you to the head of affairs or even in the secret. Every-
thing of consequence is already bespoke. I can tell
you who is to be treasurer, who chamberlain, and
who to be secretaries. These offices and many others
have been some time fixed; and all your lordship
can hope for is only the lieutenancy of a county, or
some other honorary employment, or an addition to
your title; or, if you were poor, perhaps a pension.
And is not the way to any of these as fully open at
present? and will you declare you cannot serve your
queen unless you choose her ministry? Is this for-
saking your principles? But that phrase has dropped
of late, and they call it forsaking your friends. To
serve your queen and country, while any but they
are at the helm, is to forsake your friends.
This is
a new party figure of speech, which I cannot com-
prehend. I grant, my lord, that this way of reason-
ing is very just while it extends no further than to
the several members of their juntos and cabals; and
I could point out half a score persons, for each of
whom I should have the utmost contempt if I saw
them making any overtures to be received into trust.
Wise men will never be persuaded that such violent
turns can proceed from virtue or conviction; and I
believe you and your friends do in your own thoughts
most heartily despise that ignominious example of
apostacy [lord Nottingham] whom you outwardly
so much caress. But you, my lord, who have shared
no further in the favour and confidence of your
leaders than barely to be listed of the party, cannot
honourably refuse serving her majesty, and contribut-
ing what is in your power to make her government
easy, though her weighty affairs be not trusted to the
hands where you would be glad to see them. One ad-
vantage your lordship may count upon by acting with
the present ministry is, that you shall not undergo a
state inquisition into your principles; but may believe
as you please in those points of government wherein
so many writers perplex the world with their expla-
nation. Provided you heartily renounce the pre-
tender, you may suppose what you please of his birth ;
and if you allow her majesty's undoubted right, you
may call it hereditary or parliamentary, as you think
fit. The ministers will second your utmost zeal for
securing the indulgence to protestant dissenters.
They abhor arbitrary power as much as you. In
short, there is no opinion properly belonging to you
as a Whig wherein you may not still continue and
yet deserve the favour and countenance of the court,
provided you offer nothing in violation of the royal
prerogative, nor take the advantage in critical junc-
tures to bring difficulties upon the administration, with
no other view but that of putting the queen under
the necessity of changing it. But your own party,
my lord, whenever they return into play, will not
receive you upon such easy terms, although they will
have much more need of your assistance; they will
vary their political catechism as often as they please ;
and you must answer directly to every article, as it
serves the present turn. This is a truth too visible for
you to call in doubt. How unanimous are you to a man
in every point, whether of moment or no! Whereas,
upon our side, many stragglers have appeared in all
divisions, even among those who believed the conse-
quence of their dissent would be the worst we could
fear; for which the courage, integrity, and modera-
tion of those at the helm cannot be sufficiently ad-
mired; though I question whether, in good politics,
the last ought always to be imitated.
sent.
;
If your lordship will please to consider the be-
haviour of the Tories during the long period of this
reign while their adversaries were in power, you will
find it very different from that of your party at pre-
We opposed the grant to the duke of Marl-
borough till he had done something to deserve so
great a reward; and then it was granted nemine
contradicente. We opposed repealing the test
which would level the church established with every
snivelling sect in the nation. We opposed the bill
of general naturalization, by which we were in
danger to be overrun by schismatics and beggars.
The scheme of breaking into the statutes of colleges,
which obliged the fellows to take holy orders; the
impeachment of Dr. Sacheverel; the hopeful pro-
ject of limiting clergymen what to preach; with
several others of the same stamp, were strenuously
opposed, as manifestly tending to the ruin of the
church. But you cannot give a single instance
where the least violation hath been offered to her
majesty's undoubted prerogative, in either house, by
the lords or commons of our side. We should have
been glad indeed to have seen affairs in other ma-
nagement; yet we never attempted to bring it about
by stirring up the city, or inviting foreign ministers
to direct the queen in the choice of her servants,
much less by infusing jealousies into the next heir.
Endeavours were not publicly used to blast the
credit of the nation, and discourage foreigners from
trusting their money in our funds; nor were writers
suffered openly, and in weekly papers, to revile
sons in the highest employments. In short, if you
can prove where the course of affairs, under the late
ministry, was anyway clogged by the church party,
I will freely own the latter to have so far acted
against reason and duty. Your lordship finds I
would argue from hence, that even the warmest
heads on your side, and those who are deepest en-
gaged, have no tolerable excuse for thwarting the
queen upon all occasions; much less you, my lord,
who are not involved in their guilt or misfortunes,
nor ought to involve yourself in their resentments.
per-
I have often wondered with what countenance
those gentlemen who have so long engrossed the
greatest employments, have shared among them the
bounties of the crown and the spoils of the nation,
and are now thrown aside with universal odium, can
accost others, who either never received the favours
of the court, or who must depend upon it for their
daily support; with what countenance, I say, these
gentlemen can accost such persons in their usual
style; "My lord, you were always with us; you
will not forsake your friends; you have been still
right in your principles; let us join to a man, and
the court will not be able to carry it!" and this fre-
quently in points where Whig and Tory are no
more concerned than in the length or colour of
your periwigs. Why all this industry to ply you
LETTER TO A WHIG LORD.
373
with letters, messages, and visits, for carrying some
peevish vote, which only serves to display inveterate
pride, ill-nature, and disobedience, without effect?
Though you are flattered, it must possibly make the
crown and ministry so uneasy as to bring on the
necessity of a change; which, however, is at best a
design but ill becoming a good subject or a man of
honour. I shall say nothing of those who are fallen
from their heights of power and profit, who then
think all claim of gratitude for past favours can-
celled. But you, my lord, upon whom the crown
has never cast any peculiar marks of favour or dis-
pleasure, ought better to consider the duty you owe
your sovereign, not only as a subject in general, but
as a member of the peerage, who have been always
the strenuous asserters of just prerogative against
popular encroachments, as well as of liberty against
arbitrary power. So that it is something unnatural,
as well as unjust, for one of your order to oppose
the most mild and gracious prince that ever reigned
upon a party pique, and in points where prerogative
was never disputed.
But after all, if there were any probable hopes of
bringing things to another turn by these violent me-
thods of your friends, it might then perhaps be
granted that you acted at least a politic part; but
surely the most sanguine among them could hardly
have the confidence to insinuate to your lordship
the probability of such an event during her majesty's
life. Will any man of common understanding,
when he has recovered his liberty after being kept
long in the strictest bondage, return of his own ac-
cord to gaol, where he is sure of being confined for
ever? This her majesty and millions of her subjects
firmly believe to be exactly the case; and whether
it be so or no, it is enough that it is so believed;
and this belief is attended with as great an aversion
for those keepers as a good christian can be allowed
to entertain, as well as with a dread of ever being
again in their power; so that, whenever the ministry
may be changed, it will certainly not be to the ad-
vantage of your party, except under the next succes-
sor, which I hope is too remote a view for your
lordship to proceed by; though I know some of
your chiefs who build all their expectations upon it.
For indeed, my lord, your party is much deceived
when they think to distress a ministry for any long
time, or to any great purpose, while those ministers
act under a queen who is so firmly convinced of
their zeal and ability for her service, and who is, at
the same time, so thoroughly possessed of her
people's hearts. Such a weight will infallibly at
length bear down the balance; and according to the
nature of our constitution, it ought to be so; be-
cause, when any one of the three powers whereof
our government is composed proves too strong for
the other two, there is an end of our monarchy. So
little are you to regard the crude politics of those
who cried out, "The constitution was in danger,"
when her majesty lately increased the peerage ;
without which it was impossible the two houses
could have proceeded, with any concert, upon the
most weighty affairs of the kingdom.
But it is the misfortune of princes that the effects of
their displeasure are frequently much more public
than the cause: the punishments are in the face of
the world, when the crimes are in the dark; and
posterity, without knowing the truth of things, may
perhaps number us among the ungrateful populace
of Greece and Rome, for discarding a general under
whose conduct our troops have been so many years
victorious; whereas it is most certain that this great
lord's resolution against peace, upon any terms
whatsoever, did reach the ministry at home as much
as the enemy abroad; nay, his rage against the
former was so much the more violent of the two,
that, as it is affirmed by skilful computers, he spent
more money here upon secret-service in a few
months than he did for many years in Flanders.
But whether that be true or false, your lordship
knows very well that he resolved to give no quarter,
whatever he might be content to take when he
And the question
should find himself at mercy.
was brought to this issue, whether the queen should
dissolve the present parliament, procure a new one
of the Whig stamp, turn out those who had ventured
so far to rescue her from insolence and ill usage,
and invite her old controllers to resume their
tyranny with a recruited spirit of vengeance; or,
whether she should save all this trouble, danger, and
vexation, by only changing one general for another.
men.
Whatever good opinion I may have of the present
ministry, I do not pretend, by anything I have said,
to make your lordship believe that they are persons
of sublime abstracted Roman virtue: but, where
two parties divide a nation, it usually happens that,
although the virtues and vices may be pretty equal
on both sides, yet the public good of the country
may suit better with the private interest of one side
than of the other. Perhaps there may be nothing
in it but chance; and it might so have happened, if
things were to begin again, that the junto and their
adherents would have found it their advantage to be
obedient subjects, faithful servants, and good church-
However, since these parts happen to be
acted by another set of men, I am not very specula-
tive to inquire into the motives; but, having no
ambition at heart to mislead me, I naturally side
with those who proceed most by the maxims
There was something
wherein I was educated.
like this in the quarrel between Cæsar and Pompey:
Cato and Brutus were the two most virtuous men in
Rome; the former did not much approve the inten-
tions of the heads on either side; and the latter, by
inclination, was more a friend to Cæsar: but, be-
cause the senate and people generally followed
Pompey, and as Cæsar's party was only made up of
the troops with which he conquered Gaul, with the
addition of some profligate deserters from Rome,
those two excellent men, who thought it base to
stand neuter where the liberties of their country
were at stake, joined heartily on that side which
undertook to preserve the laws and constitution,
against the usurpations of a victorious general,
whose ambition was bent to overthrow them.
I cannot dismiss your lordship without a remark
or two upon the bill for appointing commissioners to
inquire into the grants since 1688, which was lately
thrown out of your house for no other reason than
the hopes of putting the ministry to a plunge. It
was universally known that the lord-treasurer had
I shall not say any-prevailed to waive the tack in the house of commons,
and promised his endeavours to make the bill pass
by itself in the house of lords. I could name at
least five or six of your noble friends, who, if left to
the guidance of their own opinion, would heartily
concur to an entire resumption of those grants;
I know not any quarrels your lordship, as a
member of the Whig party, can have against the
court, except those which I have already men-
tioned; I mean the removal of the late ministry,
the dismission of the duke of Marlborough, and the
present negotiations of peace. I shall not say any-
thing further upon these heads; only as to the
second, which concerns the duke of Marlborough,
give me leave to observe, that there is no kingdom
or state in Christendom where a person in such
circumstances would have been so gently treated.
374
LETTER TO A WHIG LORD.
your letter; and you may be firmly assured of my
friendship. In answer to what you hint that some
of our friends suspect, I protest to you upon the
word of a king, and my lord Middletona will be my
witness, that I never held the least correspondence
with any one person of the Tory party. I observe, as
near as I can, the instructions of the king my father;
among whose papers there is not one letter, as I re-
member, from any Tory except two lords and a lady,
who, as you know, have been for some years past
devoted to me and the Whigs. I approve of the
scheme you sent me, signed by our friends. I do
not find 24's name to it: perhaps he may be sick or
in the country. Middleton will be satisfied to be
groom of the stole; and if you have Ireland, 11 may
have the staff, provided 15 resigns his pretensions; in
which case he shall have 60007. a-year for life
and a dukedom. I am content 13 should be secretary
and a lord, and I will pay his debts when Iam able.
others assure me they could name a dozen: yet,
upon the hope of weakening the court, perplexing
the ministry, and shaking the lord-treasurer's credit
in the house of commons, you went on so unani-
mously that I do not hear there was one single nega-
tive in your whole list, nor above one Whig lord
guilty of a suspicious absence [earl of Sunderland],
who, being much in your lordship's circumstances,
of a great patrimonial estate, and under no obligation
to either side, did not think himself bound to forward
a point driven on merely to make the crown uneasy
at this juncture, while it no way affected his princi-
ples as a Whig, and which, I am told, was directly
against his private judgment. How he has since
been treated as an apostate and betrayer of his
friends, by some of the leaders and their deputies
among you, I hope your lordship is ashamed to re-
flect on; nor do I take such open and sudden decla-
rations to be very wise, unless you already despair
of his return, which I think after such usage you
justly may. For the rest, I doubt your lordship's
friends have missed every end they proposed to
themselves in rejecting that bill. My lord-trea-
surer's credit is not anyway lessened in the house of
commons. In your own house you have been very
far from making a division among the queen's
friends, as appeared manifestly a few days ago when
you lost your vote by so great a majority, and dis-
appointed those who had been encouraged to hire
places upon certain expectations of seeing a parade |
to the Tower. Lastly, it may probably happen that
those who opposed an inquisition into the grants
will be found to have hardly done any very great
service to the present possessors. To charge those
grants with six years' purchase to the public, and
then to confirm the title by parliament, would in ef-
fect be no real loss to the owners, because, by such a
confirmation, they would rise in value proportionably,
and differ as much as the best title can from the
worst. The adverse party knew very well that no-
thing beyond this was intended; but they cannot be
sure what may be the event of a second inspection,
which the resentment of the house of commons will
probably render more severe, and which you will A PRETENDED LETTER OF THANKS
never be able to avert when your number lessens, as
it certainly must; and when the expedient is put in
practice without a tack of making those grants part
of a supply. From whence it is plain that the zeal
against that bill arose in a great measure from some
other cause than a tenderness to those who were to
suffer by it.
I shall conclude, my lord, with putting you in
mind that you are a subject of the queen, a peer of
the realm, and a servant of your country; and, in
any of these capacities, you are not to consider what
you dislike in the persons of those who are in the
administration, but the manner of conducting them-
selves while they are in: and then I do not despair
but your own good sense will fully convince you
that the prerogative of your prince, without which
her government cannot subsist; the honour of your
house, which has been always the great assertor of
that prerogative; and the welfare of your country,
are too precious to be made a sacrifice to the malice,
the interest, and the ambition of a few party leaders.
A SUPPOSED LETTER.
FROM THE PRETENDER TO ANOTHER WHIG LORD.
St. Germains, July 8, 1712.
MY LORD WHARTON,-I thank you heartily for
0
"We got a great victory last Wednesday [May 28] in the
house of lords, by a majority, I think, of twenty-eight; and
the Whigs had desired their friends to take places to see lord-
I confess I am sorry your general pardon has so
many exceptions; but you and my other friends are
judges of that. It was with great difficulty I pre-
vailed on the queen to let me sign the commission
for life, though her majesty is entirely reconciled.
If 2 will accept the privy seal, which you tell me is
what would please him, the salary should be doubled:
I am obliged to his good intentions, how ill soever
they may have succeeded. All other parts of your
plan I entirely agree with; only as to the party that
opposes us, your proposal about Z may bring an
odium upon my government: he stands the first ex-
cepted; and we shall have enough against him in a
legal way. I wish you would allow me twelve more
domestics of my own religion; and I will give you
what security you please not to hinder any designs
you have of altering the present established worship.
Since I have so few employments left me to dispose
of, and that most of our friends are to hold theirs
for life, I hope you will all be satisfied with so great
a share of power.
I bid you heartily farewell, and
am your assured friend.
FROM LORD WHARTON TO THE LORD BISHOP OF
ASAPH, IN THE NAME OF THE KITCAT CLUB
To which are added,
REMARKS ON THE BISHOP'S PREFACE.
Do you know that Grub-street is dead and gone last week?
No more ghosts or murders now for love or money. I plied it
close the last fortnight, and published at least seven paperse of
my own, beside some of other people's; but now every single
half-sheet pays a halfpenny to the queen. The Observator is
fallen; the Medleys are jumbled together with the Flying Post;
the Examiner is deadly sick; the Spectator keeps up, and
doubles its price: I know not how long it will hold. Have you
seen the red stamp the papers are marked with? methinks the
stamping is worth a halfpenny.-Journal to Stella, Aug. 7, 1712.
MY LORD,-It was with no little satisfaction I un-
dertook the pleasing task assigned me by the gen-
tlemen of the Kitcat Club,d of addressing your lord-
treasurer carried to the Tower."-Journal to Stella, May 31,
1712.
a The second earl, secretary of state for Scotland.
b Dr. William Fleetwood.
• One of these was probably the pamphlet here reprinted.
a This club, which consisted of the most distinguished wits
and statesmen among the Whigs, was remarkable for the strict-
est zeal toward the house of Hanover. They met at a little
house in Shire-lane, and took their title from the real name of
a pastrycook who excelled in making mutton-pies, which were
regularly a part of their entertainment. The portraits of this
society, drawn by sir Godfrey Kneller, were all at Barnes, in the
possession of the late Mr. Jacob Tonson, whose father was their
secretary; and are now in the possession of William Baker, esq..
late M.P. for the county of Hertford, at his house in Hill-street.
LETTER TO THE BISHOP OF ST. ASAPH.
375
ship with thanks for your late service so seasonably
done to our sinking cause, in reprinting those most
excellent discourses which you had formerly preach-
ed with so great applause, though they were never
heard of by us till they were recommended to our
perusal by the Spectator, who, some time since, in
one of his papers, entertained the town with a para-
graph out of the Postboy, and your lordship's extra-
ordinary preface.
The world will perhaps be surprised that gentle-
men of our complexion, who have so long been
piously employed in overturning the foundations of
religion and government, should now stoop to the
puny amusement of reading and commending ser-
mons. But your lordship can work miracles as
well as write on them; and I dare assure your
lordship and the world that there is not an atheist
in the whole kingdom (and we are no inconsiderable
party) but will readily subscribe to the principles
so zealously advanced and so learnedly maintained
in those discourses.
I cannot but observe, with infinite delight, that
the reasons your lordship gives for reprinting those
immortal pieces are urged with that strength and
force which is peculiar to your lordship's writings,
and is such as all who have any regard for truth or
relish for good writing must admire, though none
can sufficiently commend.
In a word, the preface is equal to the sermons: less
than that ought not, and more cannot, be said of it.
In this you play the part of a prophet, with the same
address as that of a preacher in those; and, in a
strain no ways inferior to Jeremiah, or any of those
old pretenders to inspiration, sagely foretel those
impending miseries which seem to threaten these
nations by the introduction of popery and arbitrary
power. This a man of less penetration than your
lordship, without a spirit of divination or going to
the devil for the discovery, may justly "fear and
presage, from the natural tendency of several prin-
ciples and practices which have of late been so stu-
diously revived." I know your lordship means
those long-since-exploded doctrines of obedience and
submission to princes, which were only calculated
to make "a free and happy people slaves and miser-
able." Who but asses, and packhorses, and beasts
of burden, can entertain such servile notions? What!
shall the lives and liberties of a freeborn nation be
sacrificed to the pride and ambition, the humour and
caprice of any one single person? Kings and princes
are the creatures of the people, mere state pageants,
more for show than use; and shall we fall down and
worship those idols, those golden calves of our own
setting up? No, never, as long as I can hold a sword
or your lordship a pen.
It was suitable to that admirable foresight which
is so conspicuous in every part of your lordship's
conduct, to take this effectual method of delivering
yourself from the reproaches and curses of pos-
terity, by publicly declaring to all the world that,
though in the constant course of your ministry you
have never failed, on proper occasions, to recommend
the loving, honouring, and reverencing the prince's
persons" so as never to break his royal shins nor
tread upon his heels; yet you never intended men
should pay any submission or obedience to him any
longer than he acted according to the will and plea-
sure of his people. This, you say, is the opinion of
Christ, St. Peter, and St. Paul: and, faith, I am
Sir Godfrey's own portrait is among them, of a smaller size than
the others. From these portraits, "Kitcat" became a technical
term in painting.-Dr. King, who was undoubtedly a first-rate
writer de re culinaria, has pointed out the merits of their prove-
ditor, in his admirable Art of Cookery.
Immortal made as Kitcat by his pies !"
|
glad to hear it, for I never thought that they had been
Whigs before. But, since your lordship has thus
taught them to declare for rebellion, you may easily
persuade them to do as much for profaneness and
immorality; and then they, together with your lord-
ship, shall be enrolled members of our club. Your
lordship a little after (I suppose to strengthen the
testimony of the aforementioned authors) takes care
to tell us that "this always was, and still is, your
own judgment in these matters." You need not
fear we should suspect your constancy and persever-
ance; for my lord Somers, that great genius, who
is the life and soul, the head and heart of our party,
has long since observed that we have never been
disappointed in any of our Whig bishops; but they
have always unalterably acted up, or, to speak pro-
| perly, down, to their principles.
It is impossible for me, my lord, in this short ad-
dress, to do justice to every part of your incompara-
ble preface: nor need I run riot in encomium and
panegyric, since you can perform that part so much
better for yourself; for you only give those praises
which you only can deserve, as you have formerly
proved in the dedication of your "Essay upon Mi-
racles" to Dr. Godolphin,a where you declare your
work to be the most perfect of any upon that subject,
in order to pay a very uncommon compliment to your
patron, by telling him you had prevailed with your
modesty to say so much of your performance be-
cause you would not be thought to make so ill a
compliment to him as to present him with what you
had not a great esteem for yourself.
Though I cannot go through the whole preface,
yet I think myself obliged in gratitude to thank your
lordship in a more particular manner for the last
part of it, where you display the glories of the Whig
ministry in such strong and lasting colours as must
needs cheer and refresh the sight of all Whig spec-
tators and dazzle the eyes of the Tories.
Here your
lordship rises, if possible, above yourself. Never
was such strength of thought, such beauty of expres-
sion, so happily joined together. Heavens! such
force, such energy, in each pregnant word! such
fire, such fervour, in each glowing line! One would
think your lordship was animated with the same
spirit with which our hero fought. Who can read
unmoved these following strokes of oratory?—"Such
was the fame, such was the reputation, such was the
faithfulness and zeal, to such a height of military
glory, such was the harmony and consent, such was
the blessing of God," &c. O! the irresistible charm
of the word such! Well, since Erasmus wrote a
treatise in praise of Folly, and my lord Rochester an
excellent poem upon Nothing, I am resolved to em-
ploy the Spectator or some of his fraternity (dealers
in words) to write an encomium upon Such. But
whatever changes our language may undergo (and
everything that is English is given to change), this
happy word is sure to live in your immortal preface.
Your lordship does not end yet; but, to crown all,
has another such in reserve, where you tell the
world, "We were just entering on the ways that
lead to such a peace as would have answered all our
prayers," &c. Now, perhaps, some snarling Tory
might impertinently inquire when we might have
expected such a peace? I answer, when the Dutch
could get nothing by the war, nor we Whigs lose
anything by a peace; or, to speak in plain terms
(for every one knows I am a freespeaker as well as
a freethinker), when we had exhausted all the na-
tion's treasure (which everybody knows could not
have been long first), and so far enriched ourselves
Vice-provost of Etou, an early patron of Fleetwood, and a
residentiary of St. Paul's.
n
376
REMARKS ON BISHOP FLEETWOOD'S PREFACE.
and beggared our fellow-subjects as to bring them
under a necessity of submitting to what conditions
we should think fit to impose; and this too we
should have effected if we had continued in power.
But, alas! just in that critical juncture, when (as we
thought) our designs were ripe for execution, the
scene changed: "God for our sins," as your lord-
ship wisely observes, "permitted the spirit of dis-
cord" (that is, the doctrine of obedience and sub-
mission to princes) "to go forth, and by troubling the
camp, the city, and the country (and O that it had
spared the places sacred to his worship!), to spoil,
for a time, this beautiful and pleasing prospect, and
give us in its stead I know not what
O exquisite how pathetically does your lordship
complain of the downfall of Whiggism and Daniel
Burgess's meeting-house !a The generous compas-
sion your lordship has shown upon this tragical oc-
sion makes me believe your lordship will not be un-
affected with an accident that had like to have befallen
a poor whore of my acquaintance about that time,
who, being big with Whig, was so alarmed at the
rising of the mob that she had like to have miscar-
ried upon it; for the logical jade presently con-
cluded (and the inference was natural enough) that,
if they began with pulling down meeting-houses, it
might end in demolishing those houses of pleasure
where she constantly paid her devotion; and indeed
there seems a close connexion between extempore
prayer and extempore love. I doubt not, if this
disaster had reached your lordship before, you would
have found some room in that moving parenthesis
to have expressed your concern for it.
• •
•
I come now to that last stroke of your lordship's
almighty pen; I mean that expressive dash
which you give when you come to the new ministry,
where you break off with an artful aposiopesis, and,
by refusing to say anything of them yourself, leave
your readers to think the worst they possibly can.
Here your lordship shows yourself a most consum-
mate orator, when even your very silence is thus elo-
quent.
Before I take my leave I cannot but congratulate
your lordship upon that distinguishing mark of ho-
nour which the house of commons has done your
preface by ordering it to be burnt. This will add a
never-failing lustre to your character, when future
ages shall read how a few pages of your lordship's
could alarm the representative body of the nation.
I know your lordship had rather live in a blaze than
lie buried in obscurity; and would at any rate pur-
chase immortality, though it be in flames. Fire, be-
ing a mounting element, is a proper emblem of your
lordship's aspiring genius.
I shall detain your lordship no longer; but, ac-
cording to your example, conclude with a short
prayer (though praying, I confess, is not my talent)
May you never want opportunities of thus signal-
ising yourself; but be "transmitted to posterity,"
under the character of one who dares sacrifice every-
thing that is most dear to you (even your own dar-
ling labours) to promote the interest of our party;
and stand sainted in the Whig calendar as a martyr
for the cause! This is the sincere wish of the
greatest (next yourself) of your lordship's admirers.
WHARTON.
REMARKS ON
BISHOP FLEETWOOD'S PREFACE.
[Originally Printed in the Examiner.]
"Ecce iterum Crispinus !"
THE bishop of St. Asaph's famous Preface having
u Destroyed by Sacheverel's riotous partisans in 1709-10.
|
+
been so much buffeted of late between advocates
and opposers, I had a curiosity to inspect some of his
other works. I sent to the booksellers in Duck-lane
and Little Britain, who returned me several of the
sermons which belonged to that Preface; among
others I took notice of that upon the death of the
duke of Gloucester, which had a little preface of its
own, and was omitted, upon mature deliberation,
when those sermons were gathered up into a volume;
though, considering the bulk, it could hardly be
spared. It was a great masterpiece of art in this
admirable author to write such a sermon as, by help
of a preface, would pass for a Tory discourse in one
reign, and, by omitting that preface, would deno-
minate him a Whig in another: thus, by changing
that position, the picture represents either the pope
or the devil, the cardinal or the fool. I confess it
was malicious in me, and what few others would
have done, to rescue those sermons out of their dust
and oblivion; without which, if the author had so
pleased, they might have passed for new preached,
as well as new printed: neither would the former
preface have risen up in judgment to confound the
latter. But, upon second thoughts, I cannot tell
why this wilfully-forgotten preface may not do the
reverend author some service. It is to be presumed
that the Spectator published the last with that in-
tent; why therefore should not my publishing the
first be for the same end? And I dare be confident
that the part I have chosen will do his lordship
much more service; for here it will be found that
this prelate did, once in his life, think and write as
became him; and that, while he was a private cler-
gyman, he could print a preface without fear of the
hangman. I have chosen to see it at length to pre-
vent what might be objected against me as an un-
fair representer, should I reserve any part of this
admirable discourse, as well as to imitate the judi-
cious Spectator; though I fear I shall not have so
good contributions from our party as that author is
said to have from another upon the like occasion,
if I chance to give offence, be promised to have
my losses made up to me for my zeal in circulating
prefaces. Without any such deep and politic de-
signs I give it to the world out of mere good nature,
that they may find what conceptions the worthy
author has formerly had of things when his business.
was yet undone; so to silence a clamorous party,
who from the late Preface are too apt, how unjustly
soever, to conclude his lordship's principles are not
agreeable to his preferments.
or,
In this excellent Preface the worthy author thought
fit to charge the fanatics and Whigs, upon the duke
of Gloucester's death, as people that would "try to
make it a judgment of God upon us for our sins by
turning the kingdom into a commonwealth." The
satire must certainly be determined to them; for
neither the Tories nor nonjurors were ever charged
with such principles, but rather as carrying the regal
authority too high in asserting the divine right of
kings. This species of government, which the
learned prelate says is "as ill fitted for our nature
as popery is for our religion," was, by some people
it seems, endeavoured to be brought in, whom he
terms "an impudent and clamorous faction." Whe-
ther that impudent and clamorous faction would
really do all those things he charges them with is by
the Whigs denied, and charitable men may in part
make a question; but that by this he did and could
then only mean the Whigs, could be no question at
all, since none else were ever charged with those
crimes in these kingdoms; and they have always
been so, though seldom indeed so heavily, unless by
highflying Tories or Jacobites. It seems his lord-
VINDICATION OF ERASMUS LEWIS, ESQ.
377
ship had dreadful apprehensions of what they
would certainly do," and begs of God "ever-
more to preserve us from this species." And surely
he was in the right; for that would be indeed
"giving us we know not what"—his lordship's
enemies "will tell the rest with pleasure!"
A COMPLETE REFUTATION
OF THE FALSEHOODS ALLEGED AGAINST
ERASMUS LEWIS, ESQ.
"Beware of counterfeits, for such are abroad.”
Dr. STAFFOLD's Quack Bill.
"Quin, quæ dixisti modo,
Omnia ementitus equidem Sosia Amphitryonis sum."-PLaut.
"Parva motu primo, mox sese attollit in auras.”—VIRG.
My friend Lewis has had a lie spread on him by the mistake of
a man who went to another of his name, to give him thanks
for passing his privy seal to come from France. That other
Lewis spread about that the man brought him thanks from lord
Perth and lord Melfort (lords now with the pretender) for his
great services, &c. The lords will examine that other Lewis
to-morrow in council; and I believe you will hear of it in the
prints, for I will make Abel Roper give an account of it.-
Journal to Stella, Jan. 27, 1712-13.
I was in the city with my printer, to alter an Examiner about
my friend Lewis's story, which will be told with remarks.-
Ibid., Jan. 31.
I could do nothing till to-day about the Examiner; but the
printer came this morning, and I dictated to him what was fit
to be said; and then Mr. Lewis came, and corrected it as he
would have it; so that I was neither at church nor court.-
Ibid., Feb. 1.
This account by Dr. Swift was published Feb. 2, 1712-13;
and was confirmed in the Gazette of the following day by three
advertisements, containing the respective affidavits of Erasmus
Lewis, esq., Charles Ford, esq., and brigadier Skelton. The
two first of these gentlemen déposed, "That, having called at
Mr. Henry Lewis's house, he told them he was much surprised
at the reports which had been raised on this occasion; and that
he would go to all the chocolate-houses and coffee-houses in
town, to do justice to Mr. Erasmus Lewis." And the testimony
of Mr. Skelton himself seems sufficiently to have cleared up
the whole. Yet there remained some who were obstinately
incredulous; as appears by the Flying Post of Feb. 3.
The dean's great regard for Mr. Lewis appears from the fol-
lowing memorandum, written by him on the back of one of
that gentleman's letters: "Lewis, who is wiser than ever he
was; the best of husbands; I am sure I can say, from my own
experience, that he is the best of friends; he was so to me, when
I had little hopes I should ever live to thank him."
Lewis was also distinguished by the friendship of Mr. Pope,
who left him a legacy for a ring.
Mr.
Feb. 2, 1712-13.
I INTEND this paper for the service of a particular
person; but herein I hope, at the same time, to do
some good to the public. A monstrous story has
been for a while most industriously handed about,
reflecting upon a gentleman in great trust under
the principal secretary of state, who has conducted
himself with so much prudence that, before this in-
cident, neither the most virulent pens nor tongues
have been so bold as to attack him. The reader
easily understands that the person here meant is
Mr. Lewis, secretary to the earl of Dartmouth, con-
cerning whom a story has run, for about ten days
past, which makes a mighty noise in this town, is
no doubt, with very ample additions, transmitted to
every part of the kingdom, and probably will be re-
turned to us by the Dutch Gazetteer, with the judi-
cious comments peculiar to that political author:
wherefore, having received the fact and the circum-
stances from the best hands, I shall here set them
down before the reader, who will easily pardon
the style, which is made up of extracts from the
depositions and assertions of the several persons
concerned.
On Sunday last was month, Mr. Lewis, secretary
to the earl of Dartmouth, and Mr. Skelton, met by
accident at Mr. Scarborough's lodgings in St. James's,
among seven other persons, viz., the earls of Sussex
and Finlater, the lady Barbara Skelton, lady Walter,
Mrs. Vernon, Mrs. Scarborough, and Miss Scarbo-
rough her daughter, who all declared that Mr.
Lewis and Mr. Skelton were half an hour in com-
pany together." There Mrs. Scarborough made Mr.
Skelton and Mr. Lewis known to each other, and
told the former "that he ought to thank Mr Lewis
for the trouble he had given himself in the despatch
of a licence under the privy-seal, by which Mr.
Skelton was permitted to come from France to Eng-
land." Hereupon Mr. Skelton saluted Mr. Lewis,
and told him he would wait on him at his house,
to return him his thanks." Two or three days
after, Mr. Skelton, in company with the earl of
Sussex, his lady's father, went to a house in Marl-
borough-street, where he was informed Mr. Lewis
lived; and as soon as the supposed Mr. Lewisa ap-
peared, Mr. Skelton expressed himself in these
words: "Sir, I beg your pardon; I find I am mis-
taken; I came to visit Mr. Lewis of my lord Dart-
mouth's office, to thank him for the service he did
me in passing my privy-seal.” Mr. Levi, alias
Lewis, answered, "Sir, there is no harm done.'
Upon which Mr. Skelton immediately withdrew to
my lord Sussex, who stayed for him in the coach, and
drove away.
Mr. Skelton, who was a stranger to
the town, ordered the coachman to drive to Mr.
Lewis's without more particular directions, and this
was the occasion of the mistake.
""
For above a fortnight nothing was said of this
matter; but on Saturday, the 24th of January last,
a report began to spread that Mr. Skelton, going by
mistake to Mr. Henry Levi, alias Lewis, instead of
Mr. Lewis of the secretary's office, had told him
"that he had services for him from the earls of
Perth, Middleton, Melfort, and about twelve persons
more of the court of St. Germain. When Mr. Lewis
heard of this, he wrote to the above-mentioned
Henry Levi, alias Lewis, desiring to be informed
what ground there was for this report; and received
for answer" that his friend Skelton could best in-
form him." Mr. Lewis wrote a second letter, in-
sisting on an account of this matter, and that he
would come and demand it in person. Accord-
ingly, he and Charles Ford, esq., went the next
morning, and found the said Levi in a great surprise
at the report, who declared "he had never given
the least occasion for it, and that he would go to all
the coffeehouses in town to do Mr. Lewis justice."
He was asked by Mr. Lewis "whether Mr. Skelton
brought those services?
had named from what places and persons he had
Mr. Levi, alias Lewis,
answered, "he was positive Mr. Skelton had nei-
ther named person nor place." Here Mr. Skelton
was called in; and Mr. Levi, alias Lewis, confirmed
what he had said in his hearing. Mr. Lewis then
desired he would give him in writing what he had
declared before the company; but Mr. Levi, alias
already said he would do him justice in all the
Lewis, excused it as unnecessary, "because he had
coffeehouses in town." On the other hand, Mr.
Lewis insisted to have it in writing, as being less
plied, "that he would give his answer by three
troublesome; and to this Mr. Levi, alias Lewis, re-
o'clock in the afternoon." Accordingly, Mr. Ford
went to his house at the time appointed, but did not
Levi went to White's chocolate-house, where, not-
find him at home; and, in the mean time, the said
withstanding all he had before denied, he spread the
above-mentioned report afresh, with several addi-
tional circumstances, as, "that when Mr. Skelton
stayed with him a considerable time, and drank tea.’
and the earl of Sussex came to his house, they
a Mr. Henry Lewis. a Hamburgh merchant.
378
VINDICATION OF ERASMUS LEWIS, ESQ.
The earl of Peterborough, uncle to the said Mr.
Skelton, thought himself obliged to inquire into the
truth of this matter; and, after some search, found
Mr. Levi, alias Lewis, at the Thatched-house tavern,
where he denied everything again to his lordship,
as he had done in the morning to Mr. Ford, Mr.
Lewis, and Mr. Skelton.
The
This affair coming to the knowledge of the queen,
her majesty was pleased to order an examination of
it by some lords of the council. Their lordships ap-
pointed Wednesday the 28th of January last for this
inquiry; and gave notice for attendance to the said
Levi, alias Lewis, and several other persons who
had knowledge of the matter. When Mr. Levi,
alias Lewis, was called in, he declared "that Mr.
Skelton told him he had services for him from
France, but did not name any persons." William
Pulteney, esq., who was summoned, affirmed "that
he had told him Mr. Skelton named the earls of
Perth and Melfort.' Here Levi, alias Lewis, ap-
peared in confusion, for he had entreated Mr.
Pulteney not to say he had named any names, "for
he would not stand it;" but Mr. Pulteney answered,
you may give yourself the lie; I will not."
earl of Sussex declared "he did not go out of his
coach, and that his son-in-law, Mr. Skelton, had not
been gone half a minute before he returned to the
coach." Mr. Skelton declared "that he knew Mr.
Lewis by sight perfectly well; that he immediately
saw his mistake; that he said nothing to him but
the words first mentioned; and that he had not
brought Mr. Lewis any service from any person
whatsoever." The earl of Finlater, and other
per-
sons summoned, declared "that Mr. Lewis and Mr.
Skelton were personally known to each other,"
which rendered it wholly improbable that Mr. Skelton
should mistake him; so that the whole matter ap-
peared to be only a foolish and malicious invention
of the said Levi, alias Lewis, who, when called to
an account, utterly disowned it.
If Mr. Levi's view, in broaching this incoherent
slander, was to make his court to any particular per-
sons, he has been extremely disappointed; since all
men of principle, laying aside the distinction of
opinions in politics, have entirely agreed in aban-
doning him, which I observe with a great deal of
pleasure, as it is for the honour of humankind.
But as neither virtue nor vice are wholly engrossed
by either party, the good qualities of the mind, what-
ever bias they may receive by mistaken principles or
mistaken politics, will not be extinguished. When
I reflect on this, I cannot, without being a very par-
tial writer, forbear doing justice to William Pulteney,
esq., who, being desired by this same Mr. Levi to
drop one part of what he knew, refused it with dis-
dain. Men of honour will always side with the
truth; of which the behaviour of Mr. Pulteney, and
of a great number of gentlemen of worth and quality,
are undeniable instances.
I am only sorry that the unhappy author of this
report seems left so entirely desolate of all his ac-
quaintance, that he has nothing but his own conduct
to direct him, and consequently is so far from
acknowledging his iniquity and repentance to the
world, that in the Daily Courant of Saturday last
he has published a Narrative, as he calls it, of what
passed between him and Mr. Skelton, wherein he
recedes from some part of his former confession.
This Narrative is drawn up by way of answer to an
advertisement in the same paper two days before,
which advertisement was couched in very moderate
terms, and such as Mr. Levi ought in all prudence
to have acquiesced in. I freely acquit everybody but
himself from any share in this miserable proceeding;
and can foretel him that, as his prevaricating manner
of adhering to some part of his story will not con-
vince one rational person of his veracity, so neither
will anybody interpret it otherwise than as a blunder
of a helpless creature left to itself, who endeavours
to get out of one difficulty by plunging into a greater.
It is therefore for the sake of this poor young man
that I shall set before him, in the plainest manner
I am able, some few inconsistencies in that Narrative
of his, the truth of which he says he is ready to attest
upon oath, which whether he would avoid by an
oath only upon the Gospels, himself can best de-
termine.
Mr. Levi says, in the aforesaid Narrative in the
Daily Courant, "That Mr. Skelton, mistaking him
for Mr. Lewis, told him he had several services to
him from France, and named the names of several
persons, which he (Levi) will not be positive to."
Is it possible that among several names he cannot
be positive so much as to one, after having named
the earls of Perth, Middleton, and Melfort so often
at White's and the coffeehouses? Again, he declared
"That my lord Sussex came in with Mr. Skelton;
that both drank tea with him ;" and therefore what-
ever words passed my lord Sussex must be a witness
to. But his lordship declares before the council
"That he never stirred out of the coach, and that
Mr. Skelton, in going, returning, and talking with
Levi, was not absent half a minute." Therefore now,
in his printed Narrative, he contradicts that essential
circumstance of my lord Sussex coming in along with
Mr. Skelton, so that we are here to suppose that
this discourse passed only between him and Mr.
Skelton, without any third person for a witness, and
therefore he thought he might safely affirm what he
pleased. Besides, the nature of their discourse, as
Mr. Levi reports it, makes this part of his Narrative
impossible and absurd, because the truth of it turns
upon Mr. Skelton's mistaking him for the real Mr.
Lewis; and it happens that seven persons of quality
were by in a room where Mr. Lewis and Mr. Skelton
were half an hour in company, and saw them talk
together. It happens likewise that the real and
counterfeit Lewis have no more resemblance to each
other in their persons than they have in their under-
standings, their truth, their reputation, or their prin-
ciples. Besides, in this Narrative Mr. Levi directly
affirms what he directly denied to the earl of Peter-
borough, Mr. Ford, and Mr. Lewis himself; to
whom he twice or thrice expressly affirmed that Mr.
Skelton had not named either place or person.
There is one circumstance in Levi's Narrative
which may deceive the reader. He says "Mr. Skel-
ton was taken into the dining-room;" this dining-
room is a ground-room next the street, and Mr.
Skelton never went further than the door of it. His
many prevarications in this whole affair, and the
many thousand various ways of telling his story, are
too tedious to be related. I shall therefore conclude
with one remark. By the true account given in this
paper it appears that Mr. Skelton, finding his mistake
before he spoke a word, begged Mr. Levi's pardon,
and, by way of apology, told him "his visit was in-
tended to Mr. Lewis of my lord Dartmouth's office,
to thank him for the service he had done him in
passing the privy seal." It is probable that Mr.
Levi's low intellectuals were deluded by the word
service, which he took as compliments from some
persons, and then it was easy to find names. Thus,
what his ignorance and simplicity misled him to
begin, his malice taught him to propagate.
I have been the more solicitous to set this matter
in a clear light, because, Mr. Lewis being employed
and trusted in public affairs, if this report had pre-
vailed persons of the first rank might possibly have
been wounded through his sides.
BISHOP OF SARUM'S INTRODUCTION.
379
A PREFACE TO THE
folio was not borrowed from the ceremonial in
Spanish romances, where a dwarf is sent out upon
BISHOP OF SARUM'S INTRODUCTION the battlements to signify to all passengers what a
TO THE THIRD VOLUME OF THE HISTORY OF THE
REFORMATION OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.
BY GREGORY MISOSARUM.
Spargere voces
In vulgum ambiguas, et quærere conscius arma.
THE Bishop of Sarum's "Introduction" was a pamphlet which
he published as an alarm to warn the nation of the approach
of popery. Swift, who seems to have disliked the bishop with
something more than political aversion, treats him like one
whom he is glad of an opportunity to insult.-JOHNSON.
This preface may seem to us, at this distance, wholly per-
sonal. But the reader must consider Dr. Burnet, not as a
bishop, but a ministerial writer. It was observed by another of
his answerers (Speculum Sarisburianum], "that the frequent
and hasty repetitions of such prefaces and introductions-no less
than three new ones in about one year's time, beside an old
serviceable one republished concerning persecution-are pre-
ludes to other practical things besides pastoral cares, sermons,
and histories."
me.
TO THE BOOKSELLER.
Mr. Morphew,—Your care in putting an advertise-
ment in the Examiner has been of very great use to
I now send you my Preface to the bishop of
Sarum's Introduction to his third volume, which I
desire you to print in such a form as in the book-
seller's phrase will make a sixpenny touch, hoping
it will give such a public notice of my design, that
it may come into the hands of those who perhaps
I
look not into the bishop's Introduction.a desire
you will prefix to this a passage out of Virgil, which
does so perfectly agree with my present thoughts of
his lordship, that I cannot express them better nor
more truly than those words do.
I am, sir, your most humble servant,
G. MISOSARUM.
A PREFACE, &c.
mighty giant there is in the castle, or whether the
bishop copied this proceeding from the fanfarronade
of Monsieur Boufflers when the earl of Portland and
that general had an interview. Several men were
appointed, at certain periods, to ride in great haste
towards the English camp, and cry out Monseigneur
vient, Monseigneur vient; then small parties ad-
vancing with the same speed and the same cry; and
this foppery held for many hours, until the mareschal
himself arrived. So here the bishop (as we find by
his dedication to Mr. Churchill the bookseller) has
for a long time sent warning of his arrival by adver
tisements in Gazettes; and now his introduction
advances to tell us again Monseigneur vient; in the
mean time we must gape, and wait, and gaze, the
Lord knows how long, and keep our spirits in some
reasonable agitation, until his lordship's real self
shall think fit to appear in the habit of a folio.
I have seen the same sort of management at a
puppet-show. Some puppets of little or no con-
sequence appeared several times at the window to
allure the boys and the rabble; the trumpeter sounded
often, and the door-keeper cried a hundred times,
until he was hoarse, that they were just going to
begin, yet, after all, we were forced sometimes to
wait an hour before Punch himself in person made
his entry.
But why this ceremony among old acquaintance?
The world and he have long known one another:
let him appoint his hour, and make his visit without
troubling us all day with a succession of messages
from his lackeys and pages.
With submission, these little arts of getting off an
edition do ill become any author above the size of
Marten the surgeon. My lord tells us that "many
thousands of the two former parts of his History are
in the kingdom; and now he perpetually advertises
in the Gazette that he intends to publish the third.
This is exactly in the method and style of Marten;
editions having been sold off in a small time) of Mr.
the seventh edition (many thousands of the former
Marten's book concerning secret diseases," &c.
THIS way of publishing introductions to books that
are God knows when to come out, is either wholly
new, or so long unpractised that my small reading
cannot trace it. However, we are to suppose that a
person of his lordship's great age and experience
would hardly act such a piece of singularity without
Does his lordship intend to publish his great volume
some extraordinary motives. I cannot but observe by subscription, and is this introduction only by way
that his fellow-labourer, the author of the paper called
of specimen? I was inclined to think so, because,
the Englishman [Steele], seems in some of his late
in the prefixed letter to Mr. Churchill, which intro-
performances to have almost transcribed the notions duces this introduction, there are some dubious ex-
of the bishop: these notions I take to have been dic-pressions: he says "the advertisements he published
tated by the same masters, leaving to each writer
that peculiar manner of expressing himself which the
poverty of our language forces me to call their style.
When the Guardian changed his title, and professed
to engage in faction, I was sure the word was given;
that grand preparations were making against next
session; that all advantages would be taken of the
little dissensions reported to be among those in
power; and that the Guardian would soon be seconded
by some other piqueerers from the same camp. But
I will confess my suspicions did not carry me so far
as to conjecture that this venerable champion would
be in such mighty haste to come into the field and
b
serve in the quality of an enfant perdu, armed only
with a pocket-pistol before his great blunderbuss
could be got ready, his old rusty breastplate scoured,
and his cracked headpiece mended.
I was debating with myself whether this hint of
producing a small pamphlet to give notice of a large
The Bishop's Introduction is prefaced with a letter to his
bookseller, of which this is a burlesque.
b One of the forlorn hope.
were in order to move people to furnish him with
materials which might help him to finish his work
with great advantage." If he means half a guinea
upon the subscription, and the other half at the deli-
very, why does he not tell us so in plain terms?
I am wondering how it came to pass that this
diminutive letter to Mr. Churchill should under-
stand the business of introducing better than the
introduction itself; or why the bishop did not take
it into his head to send the former into the world
some months before the latter, which would have
been a greater improvement upon the solemnity of
the procession.
whole pamphlet (which I had only dipped in be-
fore), and found I had been hunting upon a wrong
scent; for the author has in several parts of his
piece discovered the true motives which put him
upon sending it abroad at this juncture; 1 shall
therefore consider them as they come in my way.
Since I writ these last lines I have perused the
My lord begins his introduction with an account
of the reasons why he was guilty of so many mis-
takes in the first volume of his History of the Re-
380
A PREFACE TO THE BISHOP
formation: his excuses are just, rational, and ex-
tremely consistent. He says, "he wrote in haste,"
which he confirms by adding "that it lay a year
after he wrote it before it was put into the press."
At the same time he mentioned a passage extremely
to the honour of that pious and excellent prelate
archbishop Sancroft, which demonstrates his grace
to have been a person of great sagacity and almost
a prophet. Dr. Burnet, then a private divine, "de-
sired admittance to the Cotton library, but was pre-
vented by the archbishop, who told sir John Cotton
that the said doctor was no friend to the prerogative
of the crown or to the constitution of the kingdom.
This judgment was the more extraordinary, because
the doctor had not long before published a book in
Scotland, with his name prefixed, which carries the
regal prerogative higher than any writer of the age a
however, the good archbishop lived to see his opi-
nion become universal in the kingdom.
The bishop goes on for many pages with an ac-
count of certain facts relating to the publishing of
his two former volumes of the Reformation; the
great success of that work, and the adversaries who
appeared against it. These are matters out of the
way of my reading; only I observe that poor Mr.
Henry Wharton, who has deserved so well of the
commonwealth of learning, and who gave himself
the trouble of detecting some hundreds of the
bishop's mistakes, meets with very ill quarter from
his lordship; upon which, I cannot avoid mentioning
a peculiar method which this prelate takes to revenge
himself upon those who presume to differ from him
in print. The bishop of Rochester happened some
years ago to be of this number. My lord of Sarum,
in his reply, ventured to tell the world that the gen-
tleman who had writ against him, meaning Dr.
Atterbury, was one upon whom he had conferred
great obligations, which was a very generous chris-
tian contrivance of charging his adversary with in-
gratitude. But it seems the truth happened to be
on the other side, which the doctor made appear in
such a manner as would have silenced his lordship
for ever if he had not been writing-proof.
Mr. Wharton, in his grave, is charged with the same
accusation, but with circumstances the most aggra-
vating that malice and something else could invent;
and which I will no more believe than five hundred
passages in a certain book of travels [Burnet's Tra-
vels]. See the character he gives of a divine and a
scholar who shortened his life in the service of God
and the church. "Mr. Wharton desired me to in-
tercede with Tillotson for a prebend of Canterbury.
I did so, but Wharton would not believe it; said he
would be revenged, and so writ against me. Soon
after, he was convinced I had spoke for him; said
he was set on to do what he did, and if I would
procure anything for him he would discover every-
thing to me." What a spirit of candour, charity,
and good nature, generosity, and truth, shines
through this story, told of a most excellent and pious
divine twenty years after his death, without one
single voucher!
Poor
"He
Come we now to the reasons which moved his
lordship to set about this work at this time.
could delay it no longer, because the reasons of his
engaging in it at first seem to return upon him."
He was then frightened with "the danger of a pop-
ish successor in view, and the dreadful apprehen-
sions of the power of France. England has forgot
these dangers," and yet is "nearer to them than
ever," and therefore he is resolved to "awaken
them" with his third volume; but in the mean time
8
"Vindication of the Authority, Constitution, and Laws of
the Church and State of Scotland," dedicated to the duke of
Lauderdalo, and published in 1672.
sends this introduction to let them know they are
asleep. He then goes on in describing the condi-
tion of the kingdom, after such a manner as if
destruction hung over us by a single hair; as if the
pope, the devil, the pretender, and France, were
just at our doors.
When the bishop published his History, there was
a popish plot on foot: the duke of York, a known
papist, was presumptive heir to the crown; the
house of commons would not hear of any expedient
for securing their religion under a popish prince,
nor would the king or lords consent to a bill of ex-
clusion; the French king was in the height of his
grandeur and the vigour of his age. At this day
the presumptive heir, with that whole illustrious
family, are protestants; the popish pretender ex-
cluded for ever by several acts of parliament; and
every person in the smallest employment, as well as
the members of both houses, obliged to abjure him.
The French king is at the lowest ebb of life; his
armies have been conquered, and his towns won
from him for ten years together; and his kingdom
is in danger of being torn by divisions during a long
minority. Are these cases parallel? or are we now
in more danger of France and popery than we were
thirty years ago? What can be the motive for ad-
vancing such false, such detestable assertions? what
conclusions would his lordship draw from such pre-
mises as these? If injurious appellations were of
any advantage to a cause (as the style of our adver-
saries would make us believe), what appellations
would those deserve who thus endeavour to sow
the seeds of sedition, and are impatient to see the
fruits? "But," saith he, "the deaf adder stoppeth
her ears, let the charmer charm never so wisely."
True, my lord, there are indeed too many adders in
this nation's bosom; adders in all shapes and in
all habits, whom neither the queen nor parliament
can charm to loyalty, truth, religion, or honour.
Among other instances produced by him of the
dismal condition we are in, he offers one which
could not easily be guessed. It is this, "That the
little factious pamphlets written about the end of
king Charles II.'s reign lie dead in shops, are looked
on as waste paper, and turned to pasteboard." How
many are there of his lordship's writings whick
could otherwise never have been of any real service
to the public? Has he indeed so mean an opinion
of our taste, to send us at this time of day into all
the corners of Holborn, Duck-lane, and Moorfields,
in quest after the factious trash published in those
days by Julian Johnson, Hickeringil, Dr. Oates,
and himself?
His lordship, taking it for a postulatum that the
queen and ministry, both houses of parliament, and
a vast majority of the landed gentlemen throughout
England, are running headlong into popery, lays
hold on the occasion to describe "the cruelties in
queen Mary's reign; an inquisition setting up fa-
gots in Smithfield, and executions all over the king-
dom. Here is that," says he, "which those that
look toward a popish successor must look for." And
he insinuates through his whole pamphlet, that all
who are not of his party "look toward a popish
successor." These he divides into two parts; the
Tory laity, and the Tory clergy. He tells the for-
mer, Although they have no religion at all, but
resolve to change with every wind and tide, yet they
ought to have compassion on their countrymen and
kindred." Then he applies himself to the Tory
clergy, assures them that "the fires revived in
Smithfield and all over the nation will have no
amiable view, but least of all to them, who, if they
have any principles at all, must be turned out of
their livings, leave their families, be hunted from
OF SARUM'S INTRODUCTION.
381
place to place into parts beyond the seas, and meet
with that contempt with which they treated foreign- |
ers who took sanctuary among us."
This requires a recapitulation, with some remarks.
First, I do affirm that in every hundred of professed
atheists, deists, and socinians in the kingdom, nine-
ty-nine at least are stanch thorough-paced Whigs,
entirely agreeing with his lordship in politics and
discipline; and therefore will venture all the fires of
hell, rather than singe one hair of their beards in
Smithfield. Secondly, I do likewise affirm that
those whom we usually understand by the appella-
tion of Tory or high-church clergy were the great-
est sticklers against the exorbitant proceedings of
king James II., the best writers against popery, and
the most exemplary sufferers for the established re-
ligion. Thirdly, I do pronounce it to be a most
false and infamous scandal upon the nation in ge-
neral, and on the clergy in particular, to reproach
them for "treating foreigners with haughtiness and
contempt." The French huguenots are many
thousand witnesses to the contrary; and I wish they
deserved the thousandth part of the good treatment
they have received.
Lastly, I observe that the author of a paper
called "The Englishman" has run into the same
cant, gravely advising the whole body of the clergy
not to bring in popery; because that will put them
under a necessity of parting with their wives, or
losing their livings.
The bulk of the kingdom, both clergy and laity,
happen to differ extremely from this prelate in many
principles both of politics and religion. Now I ask
whether, if any man of them had signed his name to
a system of atheism or popery, he could have argued
with them otherwise than he does? or, if I should
write a grave letter to his lordship with the same
advice, taking it for granted that he was half an
atheist and half a papist, and conjuring him by all
he held dear to have compassion upon all those who
believed a God, "not to revive the fires in Smith-
field; that he must either forfeit his bishopric, or
not marry a fourth wife,"-I ask whether he would
not think I intended him the highest injury and
affront?
But as to the Tory laity, he gives them up in a
lump for abandoned atheists; they are a set of men
SO impiously corrupted in the point of religion that
no scene of cruelty can fright them from leaping into
it (popery), and perhaps acting such a part in it as
may be assigned them." He therefore despairs of
influencing them by any topics drawn from religion
or compassion, and advances the consideration of
interest as the only powerful argument to persuade
them against popery.
What he offers upon this head is so very amazing
from a christian, a clergyman, and a prelate of the
church of England, that I must in my own imagina-
tion strip him of those three capacities, and put him
among the number of that set of men he mentions
in the paragraph before; or else it will be impossible
to shape out an answer.
His lordship, in order to dissuade the Tories from
their design of bringing in popery, tells them, "how
valuable a part of the whole soil of England, the
abbey-lands, the estates of the bishops, of the cathe-
drals, and the tithes are;" how difficult such a re-
sumption would be to many families; "yet all these
must be thrown up; for sacrilege in the church of
Rome is a mortal sin." I desire it may be observed
what a jumble here is made of ecclesiastical revenues,
as if they were all upon the same foot, were alienated
with equal justice, and the clergy had no more rea-
son to complain of the one than the other; whereas
|
the four branches mentioned by him are of very
different consideration. If I might venture to guess
the opinion of the clergy upon this matter, I believe
they could wish that some small part of the abbey-
lands had been applied to the augmentation of poor
bishoprics; and a very few acres to serve for glebes
in those parishes where there are none; after which
I think they would not repine that the laity should
possess the rest. If the estates of some bishops and
cathedrals were exorbitant before the Reformation, I
believe the present clergy's wishes reach no further
than that some reasonable temper had been used in-
stead of paring them to the quick. But as to the
tithes, without examining whether they be of divine
institution, I conceive there is hardly one of that
sacred order in England, and very few even among
the laity who love the church, who will not allow
the misapplying of those revenues to secular persons
to have been at first a most flagrant act of injustice
and oppression; although, at the same time, God
forbid they should be restored any other way than
by gradual purchase, by the consent of those who
are now the lawful possessors, or by the piety and
generosity of such worthy spirits as this nation some-
times produces. The bishop knows very well that
the application of tithes to the maintenance of mo-
nasteries was a scandalous usurpation, even in pop-
ish times; that the monks usually sent out some of
their fraternity to supply the cures; and that when
the monasteries were granted away by Henry VIII.
the parishes were left destitute, or very meanly pro-
vided, of any maintenance for a pastor. So that in
many places the whole ecclesiastical dues, even to
mortuaries, Easter-offerings, and the like, are in lay
hands, and the incumbent lies wholly at the mercy
of his patron for his daily bread. By these means.
there are several hundred parishes in England under
twenty pounds a-year, and many under ten. I take
his lordship's bishopric to be worth near 2500l. an-
nual income: and I will engage, at half a year's
warning, to find him above a hundred beneficed
clergymen who have not so much among them all to
support themselves and their families; most of them
orthodox, of good life and conversation, as loth to
see the fires kindled in Smithfield as his lordship,
and at least as ready to face them under a popish
persecution. But nothing is so hard for those who
abound in riches as to conceive how others can be
in want. How can the neighbouring vicar feel cold
or hunger while my lord is seated by a good fire in
the warmest room of his palace with a dozen dishes
before him? I remember one other prelate much of
the same stamp, who, when his clergy would men-
tion their wishes that some act of parliament might
be thought of for the good of the church, would say,
"Gentlemen, we are very well as we are; if they
would let us alone, we should ask no more.”
"Sacrilege," says my lord, "in the church of
Rome is a mortal sin;" and is it only so in the
church of Rome? or is it but a venial sin in the
church of England? Our litany calls fornication a
deadly sin; and I would appeal to his lordship for
fifty years past, whether he thought that or sacrilege
the deadliest? To make light of such a sin, at the
same moment that he is frightening us from an idol-
atrous religion, should seem not very consistent.
"Thou that sayest a man should not commit adul-
tery, dost thou commit adultery? Thou that abhor-
rest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege?”
To smooth the way for the return of popery in
queen Mary's time, the grantees were confirmed by
the pope in the possession of the abbey-lands. But
the bishop tells us that "this confirmation was
| fraudulent and invalid.”
I shall believe it to be so,
382
A PREFACE TO THE BISHOP
although I happen to read it in his lordship's His-
tory. But he adds "that, although the confirmation
had been good, the priests would have got their land
again by these two methods; first, the statute of
mortmain was repealed for twenty years; in which
time, no doubt, they reckoned they would recover
the best part of what they had lost; beside that en-
gaging the clergy to renew no leases was a thing
entirely in their own power; and this in forty years'
time would raise their revenues to be about ten
times their present value." These two expedients
for increasing the revenues of the church he repre-
sents as pernicious designs, fit only to be practised
in times of popery, and such as the laity ought never
to consent to; whence, and from what he said before
about tithes, his lordship has freely declared his
opinion that the clergy are rich enough, and that the
least addition to their subsistence would be a step
toward popery. Now it happens that the two only
methods which could be thought on, with any pro-
bability of success, toward some reasonable augment-
ation of ecclesiastical revenues, are here rejected by
a bishop as a means for introducing popery, and the
nation publicly warned against them; whereas the
continuance of the statute of mortmain in full force,
after the church had been so terribly stripped, ap-
peared to her majesty and the kingdom a very un-
necessary hardship; upon which account it was at
several times relaxed by the legislature. Now, as
the relaxation of that statute is manifestly one of the
reasons which gives the bishop those terrible appre-
hensions of popery coming on us; so I conceive
another ground of his fears is the remission of the
first-fruits and tenths. But where the inclination to
popery lay, whether in her majesty who proposed
this benefaction, the parliament which confirmed,
or the clergy who accepted it, his lordship has not
thought fit to determine.
The other popish expedient for augmenting church
revenues is, "engaging the clergy to renew no
leases." Several of the most eminent clergymen
have assured me that nothing has been more wished
for by good men than a law to prevent bishops, at
least, from setting leases for lives. I could name ten
bishoprics in England whose revenues one with
another do not amount to 600l. a-year for each;
and if his lordship's, for instance, would be above
ten times the value when the lives are expired, I
should think the overplus would not be ill disposed
toward an augmentation of such as are now shame-
fully poor.
But I do assert that such an expedient
was not always thought popish and dangerous by
this right reverend historian. I have had the honour
formerly to converse with him; and he has told me.
several years ago that he lamented extremely the
power which bishops had of letting leases for lives;
whereby, as he said, they were utterly deprived of
raising their revenues, whatever alterations might
happen in the value of money by length of time. I
think the reproach of betraying private conversation
will not upon this account be laid to my charge.
Neither do I believe he would have changed his
opinion upon any score, but to take up another more
agreeable to the maxims of his party, "that the least
addition of property to the church is one step toward
popery.'
The bishop goes on with much earnestness and
prolixity to prove that the pope's confirmation of the
church-lands to those who held them by king Hen-
ry's donation was null and fraudulent: which is a
point that I believe no protestant in England would
give threepence to have his choice whether it should
be true or false: it might indeed serve as a passage
in his history, among a thousand other instances, to
detect the knavery of the court of Rome; but I ask,
where could be the use of it in this introduction ?
or why all this haste in publishing it at this junc
ture, and so out of all method apart, and before the
work itself? He gives his reasons in very plain
terms; we are now, it seems, "in more danger of
popery than toward the end of king Charles II.'s
reign. That set of men (the Tories) is so impiously
corrupted in the point of religion, that no scene of
cruelty can frighten them from leaping into it, and
perhaps from acting such a part in it as may be
assigned them." He doubts whether the high-
church clergy have any principles, and therefore will
be ready to turn off their wives, and look on the fires
kindled in Smithfield as an amiable view. These
are the facts he all along takes for granted, and
argues accordingly. Therefore, in despair of dis-
suading the nobility and gentry of the land from in-
troducing popery, by any motives of honour, religion,
alliance, or mercy, he assures them "That the pope
has not duly confirmed their titles to the church-
lands in their possession;" which therefore must be
infallibly restored as soon as that religion is esta-
blished among us.
Thus, in his lordship's opinion, there is nothing
wanting to make the majority of the kingdom, both
for number, quality, and possession, immediately
embrace popery, except a "firm bull from the
pope," to secure the abbey and other church lands
and tithes to the present proprietors and their heirs;
if this only difficulty could now be adjusted the pre-
tender would be restored next session, the two
houses reconciled to the church of Rome against
Easter term, and the fires lighted in Smithfield by
Midsummer. Such horrible calumnies against a na-
tion are not the less injurious to decency, good-nature,
truth, honour, and religion, because they may be
vented with safety; and I will appeal to any reader
of common understanding whether this be not the
most natural and necessary deduction from the pas-
sages I have cited and referred to.
Yet all this is but friendly dealing in comparison
with what he affords the clergy upon the same ar-
ticle. He supposes that whole reverend body who
differ from him in principles of church or state, so
far from disliking popery upon the above-mentioned
motives of perjury, "quitting their wives or burning
their relations," that the hopes of "enjoying the
abbey-lands" would soon bear down all such con-
siderations and be an effectual incitement to their
perversion; and so he goes gravely on, as with the
only argument which he thinks can have any force,
to assure them that the "parochial priests in Ro-
man catholic countries are much poorer than in
ours; the several orders of regulars and the magni-
ficence of their church devouring all their treasure ;”
and by consequence "their hopes are vain of ex-
pecting to be richer after the introduction of
popery."
But, after all, his lordship despairs that even this
argument will have any force with our abominable
clergy; because, to use his own words, "They are
an insensible and degenerate race, who are thinking
of nothing but their present advantages; and so that
they may now support a luxurious and brutal course
of irregular and voluptuous practices, they are easily
hired to betray their religion, to sell their country,
and give up that liberty and those properties which
are the present felicities and glories of this nation.'
He seems to reckon all these evils as matters fully
determined on, and therefore falls into the last usual
form of despair, by threatening the authors of these
miseries with "lasting infaniy, and the curses of
posterity upon perfidious betrayers of their trust.
OF SARUM'S INTRODUCTION.
383
Let me turn this paragraph into vulgar language,
for the use of the poor; and strictly adhere to the
sense of the words. I believe it may be faithfully
translated in the following manner: "The bulk of
the clergy and one-third of the bishops are stupid
sons of whores, who think of nothing but getting
money as soon as they can; if they may but procure
enough to supply them in gluttony, drunkenness,
and whoring, they are ready to turn traitors to God
and their country, and make their fellow-subjects
slaves." The rest of the period, about threatening
infamy and the curses of posterity upon such dogs
and villains, may stand as it does in the bishop's
own phrase; and so make the paragraph all of a piece.
I will engage, on the other side, to paraphrase all
the rogues and rascals in the Englishman, so as
to bring them up exactly to his lordship's style; but,
for my own part, I much prefer the plain Billings-
gate way of calling names, because it expresses our
meaning full as well, and would save abundance of
time which is lost by circumlocution; so, for in-
stance, John Dunton, who is retained on the same.
side with the bishop, calls my lord-treasurer and
lord Bolingbroke traitors, whoremongers, and Jacob-
ites; which three words cost our right reverend
author thrice as many lines to define them; and I
hope his lordship does not think there is any differ-
ence in point of morality, whether a man calls me
traitor in one word or says I am one "hired to be-
tray my religion and sell my country."
I am not surprised to see the bishop mention with
contempt all convocations of the clergy; for Toland,
Asgill, Monmouth, Collins, Tindal, and others of
the fraternity, talk the very same language. His
lordship confesses he is not inclined "to expect much
from the assemblies of clergymen." There lies the
There lies the
misfortune; for if he, and some more of his order,
would correct their inclinations, a great deal of good
might be expected from such assemblies; as much
as they are now cramped by that submission which
a corrupt clergy brought upon their innocent suc-
cessors. He will not deny that his copiousness in
these matters is, in his own opinion, one of the
meanest parts of his new work. I will agree with
him, unless he happens to be more copious in any-
thing else. However, it is not easy to conceive why
he should be so copious upon a subject he so much
despises, unless it were to gratify his talent of rail-
ing at the clergy, in the number of whom he dis-
dains to be reckoned, because he is a bishop; for it
is a style I observed some prelates have fallen into
of late years, to talk of clergymen as if themselves
were not of the number. You will read, in many of
their speeches at Dr. Sacheverel's trial, expressions
to this or the like effect: "" My lords, if clergymen
be suffered," &c., wherein they seem to have rea-
son; and I am pretty confident that a great ma-
jority of the clergy were heartily inclined to disown
any relation they had to the managers in lawn.
However, it was a confounding argument against
presbytery, that those prelates who are most sus-
pected to lean that way treated their inferior
brethren with haughtiness, rigour, and contempt;
although, to say the truth, nothing better could be
hoped for; because I believe it may pass for a uni-
versal rule, that, in every diocese governed by bishops
of the Whig species, the clergy (especially the
poorer sort) are under double discipline, and the
laity left to themselves. The opinion of sir Thomas
More, which he produces to prove the ill conse-
quences or insignificancy of convocations, advances
no such thing; but says, "If the clergy assembled
often, and might act as other assemblies of clergy in
Christendom, much good might have come; but the
|
misfortune lay in their long disuse, and that in his
own and a good part of his father's time they never
came together, except at the command of the prince.”
I suppose his lordship thinks there is some ori-
ginal impediment in the study of divinity, or secret
incapacity in a gown and cassoc without lawn, which
disqualifies all inferior clergymen from debating
upon subjects of doctrine or discipline in the church.
It is a famous saying of his, "that he looks upon
every layman to be an honest man until he is by
experience convinced to the contrary; and on every
clergyman as a knave until he finds him to be an
honest man." What opinion then must we have
of a lower house of convocation; where, I am con-
fident, he will hardly find three persons that ever
convinced him of their honesty, or will ever be at
the pains to do it? Nay, I am afraid they would
think such a conviction might be no very advantage-
ous bargain, to gain the character of an honest man
with his lordship, and lose it with the rest of the
world.
In the famous concordate that was made between
Francis I. of France and pope Leo X., the bishop
tells us that "the king and pope came to a bargain,
by which they divided the liberties of the Gallican
church between them, and indeed quite enslaved it."
He intends in the third part of his History, which
he is going to publish, "to open this whole matter
to the world.” In the mean time he mentions some
ill consequences to the Gallican church from that
concordate, which are worthy to be observed: “The
church of France became a slave, and this change in
their constitution put an end not only to national
but even to provincial synods in that kingdom. The
assemblies of the clergy there meet now only to give
subsidies," &c.; and he says, "our nation may see
by that proceeding what it is to deliver up the essen-
tial liberties of a free constitution to a court.'
All I can gather from this matter is, that our
king Henry made a better bargain than his contem-
porary Francis, who divided the liberties of the
church between himself and the pope, while the king
of England seized them all to himself. But how
comes he to number the want of synods in the Gallican
church among the grievances of that concordate, and
as a mark of their slavery, since he reckons all con-
vocations of the clergy in England to be useless and
dangerous? Or what difference in point of liberty
was there between the Gallican church under
Francis and the English under Harry? For the lat-
ter was as much a papist as the former, unless in the
point of obedience to the see of Rome; and in every
quality of a good man, or a good prince (except per-
sonal courage, wherein both were equal), the
French monarch had the advantage by as many de-
grees as is possible for one man to have over
another.
Henry VIII. had no manner of intention to
change religion in his kingdom; he continued to
persecute and burn protestants after he had cast off
the pope's supremacy; and I suppose this seizure
of ecclesiastical revenues (which Francis never at-
tempted) cannot be reckoned as a mark of the
church's liberty. By the quotation the bishop sets
down to show the slavery of the French church, he
represents it as a grievance that "bishops are not
now elected there as formerly, but wholly appointed
by the prince; and that those made by the court
have been ordinarily the chief advancers of schisms,
heresies, and oppressions of the church." He cites
another passage from a Greek writer, and plainly
insinuates that it is justly applicable to her majesty's
reign: "Princes choose such men to that charge
(of a bishop) who may be their slaves, and in all
384
A PREFACE TO THE BISHOP
things obsequious to what they prescribe, and may
lie at their feet, and have not so much as a thought
contrary to their commands."
ours.
These are very singular passages for his lordship
to set down, in order to show the dismal conse-
quences of the French concordate, by the slavery of
the Gallican church compared with the freedom of
I shall not enter into a long dispute whether
it were better for religion that bishops should be
chosen by the clergy or people, or both together: I
believe our author would give his vote for the se-
cond (which, however, would not have been of much
advantage to himself and some others that I could
name); but I ask whether bishops are any more
elected in England than in France? And the want
of synods are, in his own opinion, rather a blessing
than a grievance, unless he will affirm that more
good can be expected from a popish synod than an
English convocation. Did the French clergy ever
receive a greater blow to their liberties than the sub-
mission made to Henry VIII.; or so great a one as
the seizure of their lands? The Reformation owed
nothing to the good intentions of king Henry; he
was only an instrument of it (as the logicians speak)
by accident; nor does he appear, throughout his
whole reign, to have had any other views than those
of gratifying his insatiable love of power, cruelty,
oppression, and other irregular appetites. But this
kingdom, as well as many other parts of Europe,
was, at that time, generally weary of the corruptions
and impositions of the Roman court and church; and
disposed to receive those doctrines which Luther
and his followers had universally spread. Cranmer
the archbishop, Cromwell, and others of the court,
did secretly embrace the Reformation; and the
king's abrogating the pope's supremacy made the
people in general run into the new doctrine with
greater freedom, because they hoped to be supported
in it by the authority and example of their prince;
who disappointed them so far that he made no other
step than rejecting the pope's supremacy, as a clog
upon his own power and passions, but retained
every corruption besides, and became a cruel per-
secutor, as well of those who denied his own su-
premacy as of all others who professed any protest-
ant doctrine. Neither has anything disgusted me
more in reading the histories of those times than to
see one of the worst princes of any age or country
celebrated as an instrument in that glorious work of
the Reformation.
The bishop, having gone over all the matters that
properly fall within his introduction, proceeds to
expostulate with several sorts of people: first, with
protestants who are no christians-such as atheists,
deists, freethinkers, and the like enemies to christi-
anity but these he treats with the tenderness of a
friend, because they are all of them of sound Whig
principles in church and state. However, to do him
justice, he lightly touches some old topics for the
truth of the gospel; and concludes by "wishing
that the freethinkers would consider well if (Ang-
lice, whether) they think it possible to bring a na-
tion to be without any religion at all; and what the
consequences of that may prove ;" and in case
they allow the negative, he gives it clearly for
christianity.
Secondly, he applies himself (if I take his mean-
ing right) to christian papists, "who have a taste of
liberty;" and desires them to "compare the absurdity
of their own religion with the reasonableness of the
reformed:" against which, as good luck would have
it, I have nothing to object.
Thirdly, he is somewhat rough against his own
party, "who, having tasted the sweets of protestant
liberty, can look back so tamely on popery coming
on them;" it looks as if they were bewitched, or that
the devil were in them, to be so negligent. "It is not
enough that they resolve not to turn papists them-
selves; they ought to awaken all about them, even
the most ignorant and stupid, to apprehend their
danger, and to exert themselves with their utmost
industry to guard against it and to resist it. If, after
all their endeavours to prevent it, the corruption of
the age, and the art and power of our enemies, prove
too hard for us, then, and not until then, we must
submit to the will of God, and be silent; and pre-
pare ourselves for all the extremity of suffering and
of misery," with a great deal more of the same strain,
With due submission to the profound sagacity of
this prelate, who can smell popery at five hundred
miles' distance, better than fanaticism just under his
nose, I take leave to tell him that this reproof to his
friends for want of zeal, and clamour against popery,
slavery, and the pretender, is what they have not
deserved. Are the pamphlets and papers daily pub-
lished by the sublime authors of his party full of
anything else? Are not the queen, the ministers, the
majority of lords and commons, loudly taxed in
print, with this charge against them at full length? Is
it not the perpetual echo of every Whig coffeehouse
and club? Have they not quartered popery and the
pretender upon the peace and treaty of commerce;
upon the possessing, and quieting, and keeping, and
demolishing of Dunkirk? Have they not clamoured
because the pretender continued in France, and be-
cause he left it? Have they not reported that the
town swarmed with many thousand papists; when
upon search there were never found so few of that
religion in it before? If a clergyman preaches obe-
dience to the higher powers, is he not immediately
traduced as a papist? Can mortal man do more? To
deal plainly, my lord, your friends are not strong
enough yet to make an insurrection, and it is un-
reasonable to expect one from them until their
neighbours be ready.
My lord, I have a little seriousness at heart upon
this point, where your lordship affects to show so
much. When you can prove that one single word
has ever dropped from any minister of state, in
public or private, in favour of the pretender or his
cause; when you can make it appear that in the
course of this administration, since the queen thought
fit to change her servants, there has one step been
made toward weakening the Hanover title, or giving
the least countenance to any other whatsoever; then,
and not until then, go dry your chaff and stubble, give
fire to the zeal of your faction, and reproach them
with lukewarmness.
Fourthly, the bishop applies himself to the Tories
in general; taking it for granted, after his charitable
manner, that they are all ready prepared to introduce
popery. He puts an excuse into their mouths, by
which they would endeavour to justify their change
of religion: "Popery is not what it was before the
Reformation: things are now much mended, and fur-
ther corrections might be expected if we would
enter into a treaty with them: in particular, they
see the error of proceeding severely with heretics;
so that there is no reason to apprehend the returns of
such cruelties as were practised an age and a half ago."
This, he assures us, is a plea offered by the Tories
in defence of themselves for going about at this
juncture to establish the popish religion among us:
What argument does he bring to prove the fact
itself?
Quibus indiciis, quo teste, probavit ?
Nil horum: verbosa et grandis epistola venit.
JUVENAL, Sat. x. 70.
OF SARUM'S INTRODUCTION.
385
Nothing but this tedious Introduction, wherein he
supposes it all along as a thing granted. That there
might be a perfect union in the whole christian
church is a blessing which every good man wishes,
but no reasonable man can hope. That the more
polite Roman catholics have, in several places, given
up some of their superstitious fopperies, particularly
concerning legends, relics, and the like, is what no-
body denies. But the material points in difference
between us and them are universally retained and
asserted in all their controversial writings. And if
his lordship really thinks that every man who differs
from him, under the name of a Tory, in some church
and state opinions, is ready to believe transubstantia-
tion, purgatory, the infallibility of pope or councils,
to worship saints and angels, and the like, I can
only pray God to enlighten his understanding, or
graft in his heart the first principles of charity; a
virtue which some people ought not by any means
wholly to renounce, because it covers a multitude of
sins.
Fifthly, the bishop applies himself to his own
party in both houses of parliament, whom he exhorts
to "guard their religion and liberty against all danger,
at what distance soever it may appear. If they are
absent and remiss on critical occasions;" that is to
say, if they do not attend close next sessions, to vote
upon all occasions whatever against the proceedings
of the queen and her ministry;
or if
any views of
advantage to themselves prevail on them :" in other
words, if any of them vote for the bill of commerce,
in hopes of a place or a pension, a title or a garter;
"God may work a deliverance for us another way"
(that is to say, by inviting the Dutch); "but they
and their families," i. e. those who are negligent or
revolters, "shall perish;" by which is meant they
shall be hanged, as well as the present ministry and
their abettors, as soon as we recover our power;
"because they let in idolatry, superstition, and
tyranny;" because they stood by and suffered the
peace to be made, the bill of commerce to pass, and
Dunkirk to lie undemolished longer than we expected,
without raising a rebellion.
:
His last application is to the Tory clergy, a parcel
of "blind, ignorant, dumb, sleeping, greedy, drunken
dogs." A pretty artful episcopal method is this, of
calling his brethren as many injurious names as he
pleases. It is but quoting a text of Scripture, where
the characters of evil men are described, and the
thing is done and at the same time the appearances
of piety and devotion preserved. I would engage,
with the help of a good Concordance and the liberty
of perverting holy writ, to find out as many injuri-
ous appellations as the Englishman throws out in
any of his politic papers, and apply them to those
persons "who call good evil, and evil good; to those
who cry without cause, Every man to his tent,
O Israel!' and to those who curse the queen in their
hearts!"
These decent words, he tells us, make up a "lively
description of such pastors as will not study contro-
versy, nor know the depths of Satan." He means,
I suppose, the controversy between us and the
papists; for as to the freethinkers and dissenters of
every denomination, they are some of the best friends
to the cause. Now I have been told there is a body
of that kind of controversy published by the London
divines, which is not to be matched in the world. I
believe likewise there is a good number of the
clergy at present thoroughly versed in that study;
after which, I cannot but give my judgment, that it
would be a very idle thing for pastors in general to
busy themselves much in disputes against popery;
it being a dry heavy employment of the mind at
VOL. I.
best, especially when (God be thanked) there is so
little occasion for it in the generality of parishes
throughout the kingdom, and must be daily less and
less, by the just severity of the laws, and the utter
aversion of our people from that idolatrous superstition.
If I might be so bold as to name those who have
the honour to be of his lordship's party, I would
venture to tell him that pastors have much more
occasion to study controversies against the several
classes of freethinkers and dissenters: the former (I
| beg his lordship's pardon for saying so) being a little
worse than papists, and both of them more danger-
ous at present to our constitution both in church
and state. Not that I think presbytery so corrupt
a system of christian religion as popery; I believe
it is not above one-third as bad: but I think the
presbyterians, and their clans of other fanatics, or
freethinkers and atheists, that dangle after them are
as well inclined to pull down the present establish-
ment of monarchy and religion as any set of papists
in Christendom; and therefore that our danger,
as things now stand, is infinitely greater from our
protestant enemies; because they are much more
able to ruin us, and full as willing. There is no
doubt but that presbytery and a commonwealth are
less formidable evils than popery, slavery, and the
pretender; for if the fanatics were in power, I should
be in more apprehension of being starved than
burned. But there are probably in England forty
dissenters of all kinds, including their brethren the
freethinkers, for one papist; and allowing one papist
to be as terrible as three dissenters, it will appear by
arithmetic that we are thirteen times and one-third
more in danger of being ruined by the latter than
the former.
The other qualification necessary for all pastors, if
they will not be "blind, ignorant, greedy, drunken
dogs," &c., is "to know the depth of Satan." This
is harder than the former; that a poor gentleman
ought not to be a parson, vicar, or eurate of a parish,
except he be cunninger than the devil. I am afraid
it will be difficult to remedy this defect, for one
manifest reason, because whoever had only half the
cunning of the devil would never take up with a
vicarage of ten pounds a-year, "to live on at his
ease," as my lord expresses it, but seek out for some
better livelihood. His lordship is of a nation very
much distinguished for that quality of cunning
(although they have a great many better), and I
think he was never accused for wanting his share.
However, upon a trial of skill, I would venture
to lay six to four on the devil's side, who must
be allowed to be at least the older practitioner.
Telling truth shames him, and resistance makes him
fly: but to attempt outwitting him is to fight him
at his own weapon, and consequently no cunning at
all. Another thing I would observe is, that a man
may be "in the depths of Satan" without knowing
them all; and such a man may be so far in Satan's
depths as to be out of his own. One of the depths
of Satan is to counterfeit an angel of light. Another,
I believe, is to stir up the people against their govern-
ors by false suggestions of danger. A third is, to
be a prompter to false brethren, and to send wolves
about in sheep's clothing. Sometimes he sends
jesuits about England in the habit and cant of fana-
tics; at other times, he has fanatic missionaries in
the habits of
I shall mention but one
more of Satan's depths-for I confess I know not
the hundredth part of them--and that is, to employ
his emissaries in crying out against remote ima-
ginary dangers, by which we may be taken off from
defending ourselves against those which are really
just at our elbows.
20
386
A PREFACE TO THE BISHOP
But his lordship draws toward a conclusion, and
bids us "look about to consider the danger we are in
before it is too late ;" for he assures us we are already
going into some of the worst parts of popery;"
like the man who was so much in haste for his new
coat, that he put it on the wrong side out. "Auri-
cular confession, priestly absolution, and the sacrifice
of the mass," have made great progress in England,
and nobody has observed it; several other "popish
points are carried higher with us than by the priests
themselves;" and somebody it seems had the "impu-
dence to propose a union with the Gallican church."
I have indeed heard that Mr. Lesley published a
discourse to that purpose, which I have never seen;
nor do I perceive the evil in proposing a union between
any two churches in Christendom. Without doubt,
Mr. Lesley is most unhappily misled in his politics;
but if he be the author of the late tract against popery,
he has given the world such a proof of his sound-
ness in religion as many a bishop ought to be proud
of. I never saw the gentleman in my life: I know
he is the son of a great and excellent prelate, who,
upon several accounts, was one of the most extra-
ordinary men of his age. Mr. Lesley has written
many useful discourses upon several subjects, and
has so well deserved of the christian religion, and
the church of England in particular, that to accuse
him of "impudence for proposing a union" in two
very different faiths, is a style which I hope few will
imitate. I detest Mr. Lesley's political principles
as much as his lordship can do for his heart; but
I verily believe he acts from a mistaken conscience,
and therefore I distinguish between the principles
and the person. However, it is some mortification
to me, when I see an avowed nonjuror contribute
more to the confounding of popery than could ever
be done by a hundred thousand such introductions
as this.
His lordship ends with discovering a small ray of
comfort. "God be thanked, there are many among
us that stand upon the watch-tower, and that give
faithful warning; that stand in the breach, and
make themselves a wall for their church and coun-
try; that cry to God day and night, and lie in the
dust mourning before him, to avert those judgments
that seem to hasten toward us. They search into
the mystery of iniquity that is working among us,
and acquaint themselves with that mass of corrup-
tion that is in popery." He prays "that the num-
ber of these may increase, and that he may be of
that number, ready either to die in peace, or to seal
that doctrine he has been preaching above fifty
years with his blood." This being his last para-
graph, I have made bold to transcribe the most im-
portant parts of it. His design is to end, after the
manner of orators, with leaving the strongest im-
pression possible upon the minds of his hearers.
great breach is made; "the mystery of popish ini-
quity is working among us; may God avert those
judgments that are hastening toward us! I am an
old man, a preacher above fifty years, and I now
expect and am ready to die a martyr for the doc-
trines I have preached." What an amiable idea
does he here leave upon our minds of her majesty
and her government! He has been poring so long
upon Fox's Book of Martyrs, that he imagines him-
self living in the reign of queen Mary, and is re-
solved to set up for a knight-errant against popery.
Upon the supposition of his being in earnest (which
I am sure he is not), it would require but a very
little more heat of imagination to make a history of
such a knight's adventures. What would he say to
behold the fires kindled in Smithfield and all over
the town on the 17th of November; to behold the
A
pope borne in triumph on the shoulders of the peo-
ple, with a cardinal on the one side and the pre-
tender on the other? He would never believe it
was queen Elizabeth's day, but that of her persecut-
ing sister in short, how easily might a windmill be
taken for the whore of Babylon, and a puppet-show
for a popish procession!
But enthusiasm is none of his lordship's faculty.
I am inclined to believe he might be melancholy
enough when he writ this Introduction. The de-
spair at his age of seeing a faction restored to
which he had sacrificed so great a part of his life;
the little success he can hope for in case he should
resume those high-church principles in defence of
which he first employed his pen; no visible expecta-
tion of removing to Farnham or Lambeth; and,
lastly, the misfortune of being hated by every one
who either wears the habit or values the profession
of a clergyman ;-no wonder such a spirit, in such
a situation, is provoked beyond the regards of truth,
decency, religion, or self-conviction. To do him
justice, he seems to have nothing else left but to
cry out, halters, gibbets, fagots, inquisition, popery,
slavery, and the pretender. But in the mean time
he little considers what a world of mischief he does
to his cause. It is very convenient for the present
designs of that faction to spread the opinion of our
immediate danger from popery and the pretender.
His directors therefore ought, in my humble opi-
nion, to have employed his lordship in publishing a
book, wherein he should have affirmed, by the most
solemn asseverations, that all things were safe and
well; for the world has contracted so strong a habit
of believing him backward, that I am confident nine
parts in ten of those who have read or heard of his
Introduction have slept in greater security ever
since. It is like the melancholy tone of a watch-
man at midnight, who thumps with his pole as
if some thief were breaking in; but you know by
the noise that the door is fast.
However, he "thanks God there are many among
us who stand in the breach." I believe they may;
it is a breach of their own making, and they design
to come forward, and storm, and plunder, if they be
not driven back. "They make themselves a wall
for their church and country." A south wall, I
suppose, for all the best fruit of the church and
country to be nailed on. Let us examine this meta-
phor. The wall of our church and country is built
of those who love the constitution in both our do-
mestic enemies undermine some parts of the wall,
and place themselves in the breach, and then they
cry, "We are the wall!" We do not like such
patchwork; they build with untempered mor-
tar; nor can they ever cement with us till they get
better materials and better workmen. God keep
us from having our breaches made up with such
rubbish! "They stand upon the watch-tower!"
they are indeed pragmatical enough to do so; but
who assigned them that post, to give us false intelli-
gence, to alarm us with false dangers, and send us
to defend one gate while their accomplices arc
breaking in at another? They cry to God, day
and night, to avert the judgment of popery which
seems to hasten toward us." Then I affirm they
are hypocrites by day, and filthy dreamers by night:
when they cry unto Him, He will not hear them; for
they cry against the plainest dictates of their own
conscience, reason, and belief.
But, lastly, "They lie in the dust mourning be-
fore him." Hang me if I believe that, unless it be
figuratively spoken. But, suppose it to be truc,
why do "they lie in the dust?" Because they
love to raise it. For what do "they mourn?"
OF SARUM'S INTRODUCTION.
387
Why, for power, wealth, and places. There let the
enemies of the queen, and monarchy, and the
church, lie and mourn, and lick the dust like ser-
pents, till they are truly sensible of their ingratitude,
falsehood, disobedience, slander, blasphemy, sedi-
tion, and every evil work.
I cannot find in my heart to conclude without
offering his lordship a little humble advice upon
some certain points.
First, I would advise him, if it be not too late in
his life, to endeavour a little at mending his style,
which is mighty defective in the circumstances of
grammar, propriety, politeness, and smoothness. I
fancied at first it might be owing to the prevalence
of his passion, as people sputter out nonsense for
haste when they are in a rage. And, indeed, I be-
lieve this piece before me has received some addi-
tional imperfections from that occasion. But who-
ever has heard his sermons, or read his other tracts,
will find him very unhappy in the choice and dispo-
sition of his words, and, for want of variety, repeat-
ing them, especially the particles, in a manner very
grating to an English ear. But I confine myself to
this Introduction as his last work, where, endea-
vouring at rhetorical flowers, he gives us only bunches.
of thistles of which I could present the reader with
a plentiful crop; but I refer him to every page and
line of the pamphlet itself.
:
Secondly, I would most humbly advise his lord-
ship to examine a little into the nature of truth, and
sometimes to hear what she says. I shall produce
two instances among a hundred. When he asserts
that we are "now in more danger of popery than
toward the end of king Charles II.'s reign,” and
gives the broadest hints that the queen, the ministry,
the parliament, and the clergy, are just going to
introduce it, I desire to know whether he really
thinks Truth is of his side, or whether he be not sure
she is against him? If the latter, then Truth and he
will be found in two different stories; and which
are we to believe? Again, when he gravely advises
the Tories not to "light the fires in Smithfield,”
and goes on in twenty places already quoted, as if
the bargain was made for popery and slavery to
enter, I ask again whether he has rightly consi-
dered the nature of truth? I desire to put a parallel
case. Suppose his lordship should take it into
his fancy to write and publish a letter to any gen-
tleman of no infamous character for his religion or
morals, and there advise him with great earnest-
ness not to rob or fire churches, ravish his daugh-
ter, or murder his father; show him the sin and the
danger of these enormities; that, if he flattered
himself he could escape in disguise, or bribe his
jury, he was grievously mistaken; that he must, in
all probability, forfeit his goods and chattels, die an
ignominious death, and be cursed by posterity;
would not such a gentleman justly think himself
highly injured, although his lordship did not affirm
that the said gentleman had picklocks or combustibles
ready; that he had attempted his daughter, and
drawn his sword against his father in order to stab
him; whereas, in the other case, this writer affirms
over and over that all attempts for introducing po-
pery and slavery are already made, the whole busi-
ness concerted, and that little less than a miracle
can prevent our ruin.
Thirdly, I could heartily wish his lordship would
not undertake to charge the opinions of one or two,
and those probably nonjurors, upon the whole body
of the nation that differs from him. Mr. Lesley
writ a "(
Proposal for a Union with the Gallican
Church :" somebody else has "carried the necessity
of priesthood in the point of baptism further than
popery
popery" a third has "asserted the independency of
the church on the state, and in many things ar-
raigned the supremacy of the crown;" then he
speaks in a dubious insinuating way, as if some other
popish tenets had been already advanced; and at
last concludes in this affected strain of despondency;
"What will all these things end in? and on what
design are they driven? Alas, it is too visible!" It
is as clear as the sun that these authors are encou-
raged by the ministry with a design to bring in
popery; and in popery all these things will end.
I never was so uncharitable as to believe that the
whole party, of which his lordship professes himself
a member, had a real formed design of establishing
atheism among us. The reason why the Whigs
have taken the atheists or freethinkers into their
body is, because they wholly agree in their political
scheme, and differ very little in church power
and discipline. However, I could turn the argu-
ment against his lordship with very great advantage,
by quoting passages from fifty pamphlets, wholly
made up of whiggism and atheism, and then con-
clude, "What will all these things end in? and on
what design are they driven? Alas, it is too visible!"
Lastly, I would beg his lordship not to be so ex-
ceedingly outrageous upon the memory of the dead;
because it is highly probable that in a very short
time he will be one of the number. He has, in
plain words, given Mr. Wharton the character of a
most malicious, revengeful, treacherous, lying, mer-
cenary villain. To which I shall only say, that the
direct reverse of this amiable description is what
appears from the works of that most learned divine,
and from the accounts given me by those who knew
him much better than the bishop seems to have
done. I meddle not with the moral part of his
treatment. God Almighty forgive his lordship this
manner of revenging himself! and then there will
be but little consequence from an accusation which
the dead cannot feel, and which none of the living
will believe.
THE
IMPORTANCE OF THE GUARDIAN
CONSIDERED,
IN A SECOND LETTER TO THE BAILIFF OF
STOCKBRIDGE.
BY A FRIEND OF MR. STEELE.
THE original edition of this tract was become so exceedingly
scarce that the present editor in vain advertised for a copy of
it in most of the public papers for many months, and obtained
it at last by an unexpected accident.-Though we have no
positive evidence to ascribe it to Swift, yet there are circum-
stances equal to decisive testimony. It is enumerated in the
Examiner among other pieces which were certainly written by
him, and which are separated from those of other writers in a
manner which appears intended to prevent their being con-
founded with the works of inferior authors. But here we must
lament the interruption of the Journal to Stella, which in
several instances has so decisively ascertained those pieces
which we at first only conjectured to be Swift's from their be
ing classed in the above-described manner. Not one tract,
however, has been thus admitted, that bears not the internal
marks of its author; the few which appeared suspicious being
still consigned to obscurity. Our author went to Ireland in
June 1713, to take possession of his deanery, but returned to
London in September: and it is certain that the following
winter produced some of the most excellent pieces, both in
Since the preceding note was written, the volume of the dean's
prose and verse, which are to be found in his whole works.---
Tracts, noticed at p. 357, under "Remarks on a Letter to the
Seven Lords, &c.," confirms the conjecture of this letter being
the genuine production of the dean.
2 c 2
388
THE IMPORTANCE
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
MR. STEELE, in his "Letter of the Bailiff of Stock-
bridge," has given us leave "to treat him as we think
fit, as he is our brother scribbler; but not to attack
him as an honest man," p. 40. That is to say, he
allows us to be his critics, but not his answerers;
and he is altogether in the right, for there is in his
letter much to be criticised and little to be answered.
The situation and importance of Dunkirk are pretty
well known. Mons. Tugghe's memorial, published
and handed about by the Whigs, is allowed to be a
very trifling paper; and as to the immediate demo-
lishment of that town, Mr. Steele pretends to offer
no other argument but the expectations of the people,
which is a figurative speech, naming the tenth part
for the whole, as Bradshaw told king Charles 1. that
the people of England expected justice against him.
I have therefore entered very little into the subject
he pretends to treat, but have considered his pam-
phlet partly as a critic and partly as a commentator,
which I think is "to treat him only as my brother
scribbler," according to the permission he has gra-
ciously allowed me.
TO THE WORSHIPFUL MR. JOHN SNOW,
BAILIFF OF STOCKBRIDGE.
SIR, I have just been reading a twelvepenny pam-
phlet about Dunkirk, addressed to your worship
from one of your intended representatives, and I find
several passages in it which want explanation, espe-
cially to you in the country, for we in town have a
way of talking and writing which is very little un-
derstood beyond the bills of mortality. I have there-
fore made bold to send you here a second letter, by
way of comment upon the former.
In order to this, "you, Mr. Bailiff, and at the
same time the whole borough," may please to take
notice that London writers often put titles to their
papers and pamphlets which have little or no refer-
ence to the main design of the work; so, for instance,
you will observe in reading that the letter called
"The Importance of Dunkirk" is wholly taken up
in showing you the importance of Mr. Steele, wherein
it was indeed reasonable your borough should be
informed, which had chosen him to represent them.
I would therefore place the importance of this
gentleman before you in a clearer light than he has
given himself the trouble to do, without running
into his early history, because I owe him no malice.
Mr. Steele is author of two tolerable plays, or at
least of the greatest part of them, which, added to
the company he kept, and to the continual conver-
sation and friendship of Mr. Addison, has given him
the character of a wit. To take the height of his
learning, you are to suppose a lad just fit for the
just fit for the
university, and sent early from thence into the wide
world, where he followed every way of life that
might least improve or preserve the rudiments he
had got. He has no invention, nor is master of a
tolerable style; his chief talent is humour, which he
sometimes discovers both in writing and discourse,
for after the first bottle he is no disagreeable com-
panion. I never knew him taxed with ill-nature,
which has made me wonder how ingratitude came
to be his prevailing vice; and I am apt to think it
proceeds more from some unaccountable sort of in-
stinct than premeditation. Being the most impru-
dent man alive, he never follows the advice of his
friends, but is wholly at the mercy of fools or knaves,
or hurried away by his own caprice, by which he
has committed more absurdities in economy, friend-
ship, love, duty, good manners, politics, religion,
and writing, than ever fell to one man's share.
was appointed gazetteer by Mr. Harley (then se-
cretary of state), at the recommendation of Mr.
He
Maynwaring, with a salary of three hundred pounds;
was a commissioner of stamped paper, of equal profit;
and had a pension of a hundred pounds per annum
as a servant to the late prince George.
This gentleman whom I have now described to
you began, between four and five years ago, to publish
a paper thrice a-week, called the Tatler.
It came
out under the borrowed name of Isaac Bickerstaff,
and by contribution of his ingenious friends grew to
have a great reputation, and was equally esteemed
by both parties, because it meddled with neither.
But some time after Sacheverel's trial, when things
began to change their aspect, Mr. Steele, whether
by the command of his superiors, his own incon-
stancy, or the absence of his assistants, would needs
corrupt his paper with politics, published one or two
of the most virulent libels, and chose for his subject
even that individual, Mr. Harley, who had made
him gazetteer. But his finger and thumb not proving
strong enough to stop the general torrent, there was
a universal change made in the ministry, and the
two new secretaries not thinking it decent to employ
a man in their office who had acted so infamous a
part, Mr. Steele, to avoid being discarded, thought
fit to resign his place of gazetteer. Upon which
occasion, I cannot forbear relating a passage
you, Mr. Bailiff, and the rest of the borough," which
discovers a very peculiar turn of thought in this
gentleman you have chosen to represent you. When
Mr. Maynwaring recommended him to the employ-
ment of gazetteer, Mr. Harley, out of an inclination
to encourage men of parts, raised that office from
fifty pounds to three hundred pounds a-year. Mr.
Steele, according to form, came to give nis new
patron thanks, but the secretary, who would rather
confer a hundred favours than receive acknowledg-
ments for one, said to him in a most obliging manner,
"to
Pray, sir, do not thank me, but thank Mr. Mayn-
waring." Soon after Mr. Steele's quitting that em-
ployment he complained to a gentleman in office of
the hardship put upon him in being forced to quit
his place; that he knew Mr. Harley was the cause;
that he never had done Mr. Harley an injury, nor
received any obligation from him. The gentleman,
amazed at this discourse, put him in mind of those
libels published in his Tatlers. Mr. Steele said he
was only the publisher, for they had been sent him
by other hands. The gentleman, thinking this a very
monstrous kind of excuse, and not allowing it, Mr.
Steele then said, "Well, I have libelled him, and he
has turned me out; and so we are equal." But
neither would this be granted; and he was asked
whether the place of gazetteer were not an obligation?
"No," said he, "not from Mr. Harley; for when I
went to thank him he forbade me, and said I must
only thank Mr. Maynwaring.
But I return, Mr. Bailiff, to give you a further
account of this gentleman's importance. In less I
think than two years the town and he grew weary
of the Tatler: he was silent for some months, and
then a daily paper came from him and his friends,
under the name of Spectator, with good success: this
being likewise dropped after a certain period, he has
of late appeared under the style of Guardian, which
he has now likewise quitted for that of Englishman;
but having chosen other assistance, or trusting more
to himself, his papers have been very coldly received,
which has made him fly for relief to the never-failing
source of faction.
In the beginning of August last Mr. Steele writes.
a letter to Nestor Ironside, esq., and subscribes it
with the name of " English Tory." On the 7th the
said Ironside publishes this letter in the Guardian.
How shall I explain this matter to you, Mr. Bailiff,
OF THE GUARDIAN CONSIDERED.
389
side. In the preface to this letter, p. 15, he has
these words: "It is certain there is not much danger
in delaying the demolition of Dunkirk during the life
of his present most christian majesty, who is re-
nowned for the most inviolable regard to treaties;
but that pious prince is aged, and in case of his de-
cease," &c. This preface is in the words of Mr. Iron-
side, a professed Whig; and perhaps you in the
country will wonder to hear a zealot of your own
party celebrating the French king for his piety and
his religious performance of treaties. For this, I
can assure you, is not spoken in jest, or to be un-
derstood by contrary. There is a wonderful resem-
blance between that prince and the party of Whigs
among us. Is he for arbitrary government? So are
they. Has he persecuted protestants? So have the
Whigs. Did he attempt to restore king James and
his pretended son? They did the same. Would he
have Dunkirk surrendered to him? This is what
they desire. Does he call himself the Most Chris-
tian? The Whigs assume the same title, though
their leaders deny christianity. Does he break his
promises? Did they ever keep theirs?
and your brethren of the borough? You must know | letter, under the name of English Tory, to Mr. Iron-
then that Mr. Steele and Mr. Ironside are the same
persons, because there is a great relation between
Iron and Steel; and English Tory and Mr. Steele
are the same persons, because there is no relation at
all between Mr. Steele and an English Tory; so that
to render this matter clear to the very meanest
capacities, Mr. English Tory, the very same person
with Mr. Steele, writes a letter to Nestor Ironside,
esq., who is the same person with English Tory,
who is the same person with Mr. Steele; and Mr.
Ironside, who is the same person with English Tory,
publishes the letter written by English Tory, who is
the same person with Mr. Steele, who is the same
person with Mr. Ironside. This letter, written and
published by these three gentlemen, who are one of
your representatives, complains of a printed paper
in French and English lately handed about the town,
and given gratis to passengers in the streets at noon-
day; the title whereof is "A most humble Address,
or Memorial, presented to her Majesty the Queen
of Great Britain by the Deputy of the Magistrates
of Dunkirk." This deputy it seems is called the
sieur Tugghe. Now the remarks made upon this
memorial by Mr. English Tory in his letter to Mr.
Ironside happening to provoke the Examiner and
another pamphleteer, they both fell hard upon Mr.
Steele, charging him with insolence and ingratitude
toward the queen. But Mr. Steele, nothing daunted,
writes a long letter "to you, Mr. Bailiff, and at the
same time to the whole borough," in his own vin-
dication. But there being several difficult passages
in this letter which may want clearing up, I here
send you and the borough my annotation upon it.
Mr. Steele, in order to display his importance to
your borough, begins his letter by letting you know
"he is no small man," p. 1, because in the pamphlets
he has sent you down you will find him spoken of
more than once in print." It is indeed a great thing
to be "spoken of in print," and must needs make a
mighty sound at Stockbridge among the electors.
However, if Mr. Steele has really sent you down
all the pamphlets and papers printed since the dis-
solution, you will find he is not the only person of
importance; I could instance Abel Roper, Mr. Mar-
ten the surgeon, Mr. John Moore the apothecary at
the Pestle and Mortar, sir William Read her ma-
jesty's oculist, and, of later name and fame, Mr. John
Smith the corn-cutter, with several others who are
"spoken of more than once in print." Then he
recommends to your perusal, and sends you a copy
of a printed paper given gratis about the streets,
which is the memorial of Monsieur Tugghe, above
mentioned, "deputy of the magistrates of Dunkirk,"
to desire her majesty not to demolish the said town.
He tells you how insolent a thing it is that such a
paper should be publicly distributed, and he tells
you true; but these insolences are very frequent
among the Whigs. One of their present topics for
clamour is Dunkirk: here is a memorial said to be
presented to the queen by an obscure Frenchman;
one of your party gets a copy and immediately prints
it by contribution, and delivers it gratis to the people,
which answers several ends. First, it is meant to
lay an odium on the ministry. Secondly, if the town
be soon demolished, Mr. Steele and his faction have
the merit; their arguments and threatenings have
frightened my lord-treasurer. Thirdly, if the de-
molishing should be further deferred, the nation will
be fully convinced of his lordship's intention to bring
over the pretender.
Let us turn over fourteen pages, which contain
the memorial itself, and which is indeed as idle a
one as ever I read; we come now to Mr. Steele's
|
From the 16th to the 38th page, Mr. Steele's
pamphlet is taken up with a copy of his letter to Mr.
Ironside; the remarks of the Examiner and another
author upon that letter; the hydrography of some
French and English ports, and his answer to Mr.
Tugghe's memorial. The bent of his discourse is, in
appearance, to show of what prodigious consequence
to the welfare of England the surrender of Dunkirk
was. But here, Mr. Bailiff, you must be careful, for all
this is said in raillery; for you may easily remember
that, when the town was first yielded to the queen,
the Whigs declared it was of no consequence at all,
that the French could easily repair it after the de-
molition, or fortify another a few miles off, which
would be of more advantage to them. So that what
Mr. Steele tells you of the prodigious benefit that
will accrue to England by destroying this port is
only suited to present junctures and circumstances.
For if Dunkirk should now be represented as insig-
nificant as when it was first put into her majesty's
hands, it would signify nothing whether it were de-
molished or not, and consequently one principal
topic of clamour would fall to the ground.
In Mr. Steele's answer to Monsieur Tugghe's ar-
guments against the demolishing of Dunkirk, I have
not observed anything that so much deserves your
peculiar notice as the great eloquence of your new
member, and his wonderful faculty of varying his
style, which he calls "proceeding like a man of
great gravity and business," p. 31. He has ten
arguments of Tugghe's to answer; and because he
will not go in the old beaten road, like a parson of a
parish, first, secondly, thirdly, &c., his manner is this ;
In answer to the sieur's first.
As to the sieur's second.
As to his third.
As to the sieur's fourth.
As to Mr. Deputy's fifth.
As to the sieur's sixth.
As to this agent's seventh.
As to the sieur's eighth.
As to his ninth.
As to the memorialist's tenth.
You see every second expression is more or less
diversified, to avoid the repetition of, "As to the
sieur's," &c., and there is the tenth into the bargain.
I could heartily wish Monsieur Tugghe had been
able to find ten arguments more, and thereby given Mr.
Steele an opportunity of showing the utmost varia-
tions our language would bear in so momentous a trial.
390
THE IMPORTANCE
Mr. Steele tells you, "That, having now done
with his foreign enemy, Monsieur Tugghe, he must
face about to his domestic foes, who accuse him of
ingratitude, and insulting his prince while he is
eating her bread.”
To do him justice, he acquits himself pretty toler-
ably of this last charge; for he assures you he gave
up his stamped-paper office, and pension as gentle-
man-usher, before he wrote that letter to himself in
the Guardian: so that he had already received his
salary, and spent his money, and consequently the
bread was eaten at least a week before he would |
offer to insult his prince; so that the folly of the
Examiner's objecting ingratitude to him upon this
article is manifest to all the world.
But he tells you he has quitted those employments
to render him more useful to his queen and country
in the station you have honoured him with. That
no doubt was the principal motive: however, I shall
venture to add some others. First, the Guardian
apprehended it impossible that the ministry would
let him keep his place much longer after the part he
had acted for above two years past. Secondly, Mr.
Ironside said publicly that he was ashamed to be
obliged any longer to a person (meaning the lord-
treasurer) whom he had used so ill; for it seems a
man ought not to use his benefactors ill above two
years and a half. Thirdly, the sieur Steele appeals
to protection from you, Mr. Bailiff, from others of
your denomination, who would have carried him
somewhere else if you had not relieved him by your
habeas corpus to St. Stephen's chapel. Fourthly,
Mr. English Tory found, by calculating the life of a
ministry, that it has lasted above three years, and is
near expiring; he resolved, therefore, to "strip
off the very garments spotted with the flesh," and
be wholly regenerate against the return of his old
masters.
pose, is "to offer reasons and arguments, and yet
appear void of both." And in the next lines, "These
writers shall treat me as they think fit, as I am their
brother-scribbler; but I shall not be so unconcerned
when they attack me as an honest man," p. 40. And
how does he defend himself? "I shall therefore
inform them that it is not in the power of a private
man to hurt the prerogative," &c. Well; I shall
treat him only as a brother-scribbler; and I guess
he will hardly be attacked as an honest man; but if
his meaning be that his honesty ought not to be
attacked, because he has no power to hurt the
honour and prerogative of the crown without being
punished," he will make an admirable reasoner in
the house of commons.
But all this wise argumentation was introduced
only to close the paragraph by hauling in a fact
which he relates to you and your borough, in order
to quiet the minds of the people, and express his
duty and gratitude to the queen. The fact is this:
"That her majesty's honour is in danger of being
lost by her ministers' tolerating villains without
conscience to abuse the greatest instruments of
honour and glory to our country, the most wise and
faithful managers, and the most pious, disinterested,
generous, and self-denying patriots;" and the in-
stances he produces are, the duke of Marlborough,
the late earl of Godolphin, and about two-thirds of
the bishops.
Mr. Bailiff, I cannot debate this matter at length
without putting you, and the rest of my countrymen.
who will be at the expense, to sixpence charge ex-
traordinary. The duke and earl were both removed
from their employments; and I hope you have too
great a respect for the queen to think it was done.
for nothing. The former was at the head of many
great actions, and he has received plentiful obla-
tions of praise and profit; yet, having read all that
ever was objected against him by the Examiner, I
will undertake to prove every syllable of it true, par-
ticularly that famous attempt to be general for life.
The earl of Godolphin is dead, and his faults may
sojourn with him in the grave, till some historian
shall think fit to revive part of them for instruction
and warning to posterity. But it grieved me to the
soul to see so many good epithets bestowed by Mr.
Steele upon the bishops: nothing has done more
hurt to that sacred order for some years past than to
hear some prelates extolled by Whigs, dissenters,
republicans, socinians, and, in short, by all who are
enemies to episcopacy. God in his mercy for ever
keep our prelates from deserving the praises of such
panegyrists!
lord-trea-panegyrists!
In order to serve all these ends, your borough has
honoured him (as he expresses it) with choosing
him to represent you in parliament; and it must be
owned he has equally honoured you. Never was
borough more happy in suitable representatives than
you are in Mr. Steele and his colleague [Thomas
Broderick, esq.]; nor were ever representatives more
happy in a suitable borough.
When Mr. Steele talked of "laying before her
majesty's ministry that the nation has a strict eye
upon their behaviour with relation to Dunkirk,"
p. 39, did not you, Mr. Bailiff and your brethren
of the borough, presently imagine he had drawn up
a sort of counter-memorial to that of Monsieur
Tugghe, and presented it in form to my lord-trea-
surer, or a secretary of state? I am confident you
did;
but this comes by not understanding the town.
You are to know, then, that Mr. Steele publishes
every day a penny paper to be read in coffeehouses
and get him a little money. This by a figure of
speech he calls "laying things before the ministry,"
who seem at present a little too busy to regard such
memorials; and I dare say never saw his paper un-
less he sent it by the penny post.
Well, but he tells you "he cannot offer against
the Examiner, and his other adversary, reason and
argument, without appearing void of both." Ibid.
What a singular situation of the mind is this! How
glad should I be to hear a man "offer reasons and
arguments, and yet at the same time appear void of
both!" But this whole paragraph is of a peculiar
strain; the consequences so just and natural, and
such a propriety in thinking, as few authors ever
arrive at. "Since it has been the fashion to run
down men of much greater consequence than I am,
I will not bear the accusation." Ibid. This, I sup-
Mr. Steele is discontented that the ministry have
not "called the Examiner to account as well as the
Flying-Post." I will inform you, Mr. Bailiff, how
that matter stands. The author of the Flying-Post
has, thrice a-week for above two years together,
published the most impudent reflections upon all
the present ministry, upon all their proceedings, and
upon the whole body of Tories. The Examiner, on
the other side, writing in defence of those whom her
majesty employs in her greatest affairs, and of the
cause they are engaged in, has always borne hard
upon the Whigs, and now and then upon some of
their leaders. Now, sir, we reckon here, that, sup-
posing the persons on both sides to be of equal
intrinsic worth, it is more impudent, immoral, and
criminal, to reflect on a majority in power than a
minority out of power. Put the case that an odd
rascally Tory in your borough should presume to
abuse your worship, who, in the language of Mr.
Steele, are first minister, and the majority of your
brethren, for sending two such Whig representatives
OF THE GUARDIAN CONSIDERED.
391
up to parliament; and, on the other side, that an
honest Whig should stand in your defence, and fall
foul on the Tories; would you equally resent the
proceedings of both, and let your friend and enemy
sit in the stocks together? Hearken to another
case, Mr. Bailiff: suppose your worship, during
your annual administration, should happen to be
kicked and cuffed by a parcel of Tories; would not
the circumstance of your being a magistrate make
the crime the greater than if the like insults were
committed on an ordinary Tory shopkeeper by a
company of honest Whigs? What bailiff would ven-
ture to arrest Mr. Steele now he has the honour to
be your representative? and what bailiff ever scrupled
it before?
You must know, sir, that we have several ways
here of abusing one another without incurring the
danger of the law. First, we are careful never to
print a man's name out at length, but as I do that of
Mr. St-le; so that, although everybody alive knows
whom I mean, the plaintiff can have no redress in
any court of justice. Secondly, by putting cases;
thirdly, by insinuations; fourthly, by celebrating
the actions of others, who acted directly contrary to
the persons we would reflect on; fifthly, by nick-
names, either commonly known or stamped for the
purpose, which everybody can tell how to apply.
Without going on further, it will be enough to in-
form you that, by some of the ways I have already
mentioned, Mr. Steele gives you to understand that
the queen's honour is blasted by the actions of her
present ministers; that "her prerogative is dis-
graced by creating a dozen peers, who, by their
votes, turned a point upon which your all depended;
that these ministers made the queen lay down her
conquering arms, and deliver herself up to be van-
quished; that they made her majesty betray her
allies by ordering her army to face about and leave
them in the moment of distress; that the present
ministers are men of poor and narrow conceptions,
self-interested, and without benevolence to mankind,
and were brought into her majesty's favour for the
sins of the nation, and only think what they may
do, not what they ought to do," p. 43. This is the
character given by Mr. Steele of those persons whom
her majesty has thought fit to place in the highest
stations of the kingdom, and to trust with the ma-
nagement of her most weighty affairs; and this is
the gentleman who cries out, "Where is honour?
where is government? where is prerogative?" p. 40,
because the Examiner has sometimes dealt freely
with those whom the queen has thought fit to dis-
card, and the parliament to censure.
But Mr. Steele thinks it highly dangerous to the
prince that any man should be hindered from
"offering his thoughts upon public affairs ;" and re-
solves to do it, "though with the loss of her
majesty's favour," p. 45. If a clergyman offers to
preach obedience to the higher powers, and proves
it by scripture, Mr. Steele and his fraternity imme-
diately cry out, "What have parsons to do with
politics?" I ask, what shadow of pretence has he
to offer his crude thoughts in matters of state? to
print and publish them? "to lay them before the
queen and ministry ?" and to reprove both for mal-
administration? How did he acquire these abilities.
of directing in the councils of princes? Was it
from publishing Tatlers and Spectators, and writing
now and then a Guardian? was it from his being a
soldier, alchemist,a gazetteer, commissioner of
a Sir Richard Steele was one of the last eminent men.who
entertained hopes of being successful in the pursuit of the
philosopher's stone. His laboratory (as I have been assured
by the late George Stevens, esq.) was at Popiar, near London.
|
stamped papers, or gentleman-usher? No; but he
insists it is every man's right to find fault with the
administration in print whenever they please; and
therefore you, Mr. Bailiff, and as many of your
brethren in the borough as can write and read, may
publish pamphlets, and "lay them before the queen
and ministry," to show your utter dislike of all their
proceedings; and for this reason, because you “can
certainly see and apprehend, with your own eyes and
understanding, those dangers which the ministers
do not."
One thing I am extremely concerned about, that
Mr. Steele resolves, as he tells you, p. 46, when he
comes into the house, "to follow no leaders, but
vote according to the dictates of his conscience."
He must, at that rate, be a very useless member to
his party, unless his conscience be already cut out
and shaped for their service, which I am ready to
believe it is, if I may have leave to judge from the
whole tenor of his life. I would only have his
friends be cautious not to reward him too liberally;
for, as it was said of Cranmer, do the archbishop
an ill turn, and he is your friend for ever;" so I
do affirm of your member, "do Mr. Steele a good
turn, and he is your enemy for ever."
I had like to let slip a very trivial matter, which I
should be sorry to have done. In reading this pam-
phlet I observed several mistakes, but knew not
whether to impute them to the author or printer;
till, turning to the end, I found there was only one
erratum, thus set down: " page 45, line 28, for ad-
monition read advertisement." This (to imitate Mr.
Steele's propriety of speech) is a very old practice
among new writers to make a wilful mistake, and
then put it down as an erratum. The word is
brought in upon this occasion to convince all the
world that he was not guilty of ingratitude, by
reflecting on the queen when he was actually under
salary, as the Examiner affirms; he assures you he
"had resigned and divested himself of all before he
would presume to write anything which was so ap-
parently an admonition to those employed in her
majesty's service." In case the Examiner should
find fault with this word, he might appeal to the
erratum; and, having formerly been gazetteer, he
conceived he might very safely venture to advertise.
You are to understand, Mr. Bailiff, that in the
great rebellion against king Charles I. there was a
distinction found out between the personal and
political capacity of the prince; by the help of
which those rebels professed to fight for the king,
while the great guns were discharging against
Charles Stuart. After the same manner, Mr. Steele
distinguishes between the personal and political pre-
rogative. He does not care to trust this jewel "to
the will, and pleasure, and passion of her majesty,"
P. 48.
If I am not mistaken, the crown jewels can-
not be alienated by the prince; but I always
thought the prince could wear them during his
reign, else they had as good be in the hands of the
subject; so I conceive her majesty may and ought
to wear the prerogative; that it is hers during life,
and she ought to be so much the more careful nei-
ther to soil nor diminish it, for that very reason,
because it is by law unalienable. But what must
we do with this prerogative, according to the notion
of Mr. Steele ? It must not be trusted with the
queen, because Providence has given her will, plea-
sure, and passion. Her ministers must not act by
the authority of it; for then Mr. Steele will cry out,
"What! are majesty and ministry consolidated?
and must there be no distinction between the one
and the other?" p. 46. He tells you, p. 48, “the
prerogative attends the crown;" and, therefore I
392
THE IMPORTANCE
suppose, must lie in the Tower, to be shown for
twelvepence, but never produced, except at a coro-
nation, or passing an act. "Well, but," says he,
"a whole ministry may be impeached and con-
demned by the house of commons, without the
prince's suffering by it." And what follows? why,
therefore, a single burgess of Stockbridge, before he
gets into the house, may at any time revile a whole
ministry in print, before he knows whether they are
guilty of any one neglect of duty or breach of trust.
I am willing to join issue with Mr. Steele in one
particular, which perhaps may give you some diver-
sion. He is taxed by the Examiner and others for
an insolent expression, that the British nation ex-
pects the immediate demolition of Dunkirk. He
says, the word EXPECT was meant to the ministry,
and not to the queen; "but that, however, for
argument sake, he will suppose those words were
addressed immediately to the queen." Let me then
likewise, for argument sake, suppose a very ridicu-
lous thing, that Mr. Steele were admitted to her
majesty's sacred person, to tell his own story, with
his letter to you, Mr. Bailiff, in his hand to have
recourse to upon occasion. I think his speech |
must be in these terms:-
MADAM,-I, Richard Steele, publisher of the
Tatler and Spectator, late gazetteer, commissioner
of stamped papers, and pensioner to your majesty,
now burgess elect of Stockbridge, do see and appre-
hend with my own eyes and understanding the
imminent danger that attends the delay of the
demolition of Dunkirk, which I believe your minis-
ters, whose greater concern it is, do not: for,
is, do not for,
madam, the thing is not done; my lord-treasurer
and lord Bolingbroke, my fellow-subjects, under
whose immediate direction it is, are careless, and
overlook it, or something worse; I mean, they
design to sell it to France, or make use of it to
bring in the pretender. This is clear from their
suffering Mr. Tugghe's memorial to be published
without punishing the printer. Your majesty has
told us that the equivalent for Dunkirk is already in
the French king's hands; therefore all obstacles are
removed on the part of France; and I, though a
mean fellow, give your majesty to understand, in
the best method I can take, and from the sincerity
of my grateful heart, that the British nation expects
the immediate demolition of Dunkirk; as you hope
; as you hope
to preseve your person, crown, and dignity, and the
safety and welfare of the people committed to your
charge."
I have contracted such a habit of treating princes
familiarly, by reading the pamphlets of Mr. Steele
and his fellows, that I am tempted to suppose her
majesty's answer to this speech might be as
follows:-
"MR. RICHARD STEELE, late gazetteer, &c.
"I do not conceive that any of your titles
empower you to be my director, or to report to me
the expectations of my people. I know their expecta-
tions better than you; they love me and will trust
me. My ministers were of my own free choice; I
have found them wise and faithful; and whoever
calls them fools or knaves designs indirectly an
affront to myself. I am under no obligations to de-
molish Dunkirk, but to the most christian king; if
you come here as an orator from that prince to
demand it in his name, where are your powers? If
not, let it suffice you to know that I have my reasons
for deferring it; and that the clamours of a faction
shall not be a rule by which I or my servants are to
proceed."
Mr. Steele tells you "his adversaries are so un-
just, they will not take the least notice of what led
him into the necessity of writing his letter to the
Guardian." And how is it possible any mortal
should know all his necessities? Who can guess
whether this necessity were imposed on him by his
superiors, or by the itch of party, or by the mere
want of other matter to furnish out a Guardian ?
But Mr. Steele "has had a liberal education, and
knows the world as well as the ministry does, and
will therefore speak on, whether he offends them or
no, and though their clothes be ever so new, when
he thinks his queen and country is" (or, as a gram-
marian would express it, are) "ill treated," p.
50.
It would be good to hear Mr. Steele explain him-
self upon this phrase of "knowing the world ;" be-
cause it is a science which maintains abundance of
pretenders. Every idle young rake who understands
how to pick up a wench, or bilk a hackney coach-
man, or can call the players by their names, and is
acquainted with five or six faces in the chocolate-
house, will needs pass for a man that "knows the
world." In the like manner Mr. Steele, who, from
some few sprinklings of rudimental literature, pro-
ceeded a gentleman of the horse-guards, thence by
several degrees to be an ensign and an alchemist,
where he was wholly conversant with the lower part of
mankind, thinks he "knows the world" as well as
the prime minister; and upon the strength of that
knowledge will needs direct her majesty in the
weightiest matters of
government.
And now, Mr. Bailiff, give me leave to inform
you that this long letter of Mr. Steele, filled with
quotations and a clutter about Dunkirk, was wholly
written for the sake of the six last pages, taken up
in vindicating himself directly, and vilifying the
queen and ministry by innuendoes. He apprehends
that "some representations have been given of him
in your town, as, that a man of so small a fortune as
he must have secret views or supports, which could
move him to leave his employments," &c. P.
56.
He answers by owning "he has indeed very particu-
lar views; for he is animated in his conduct by
justice and truth, and benevolence to mankind,"
p. 57. He has given up his employments, because
"he values no advantages above the conveniences of
life, but as they tend to the service of the public."
It seems he could not "serve the public" as a pen-
sioner, or commissioner of stamped paper; and
therefore gave them up to sit in parliament, "out of
charity to his country, and to contend for liberty,"
p. 58.
He has transcribed the common places of
some canting moralist de contemptu mundi, et fuga
seculi; and would put them upon you as rules de-
rived from his own practice.
Here is a most miraculous and sudden reforma-
tion, which I believe can hardly be matched in
history or legend. And Mr. Steele, not unaware
how slow the world was of belief, has thought fit to
anticipate all objection; he foresees that "prosti-
tuted pens will entertain a pretender to such
reformations with a recital of his own faults and
infirmities; but he is prepared for such usage, and
gives himself up to all nameless authors, to be
treated as they please," p. 59.
It is certain, Mr. Bailiff, that no man breathing
can pretend to have arrived at such a sublime pitch
of virtue as Mr. Steele, without some tendency in
the world to suspend at least their belief of the fact,
till time and observation shall determine. But I
hope few writers will be so prostitute as to trouble
themselves with "the faults and infirmities” of Mr.
Steele's past life, with what he somewhere else calls
"the sins of his youth," and in one of his late
papers confesses to have been numerous enough. A
OF THE GUARDIAN CONSIDERED.
393
shifting scambling scene of youth, attended with
poverty and ill company, may put a man of no ill
inclinations upon many extravagancies, which, as
soon as they are left off, are easily pardoned and for-
gotten. Besides, I think, popish writers tell us that
the greatest sinners make the greatest saints; but so
very quick a sanctification, and carried to so pro-
digious a height, will be apt to rouse the suspicion
of infidels, especially when they consider that this
pretence of his to so romantic a virtue is only ad-
vanced by way of solution to that difficult problem,
"why he has given up his employments?" And
according to the new philosophy, they will endea-
vour to solve it by some easier and shorter way.
For example, the question is put, why Mr. Steele
gives up his employment and pension at this junc-
ture? I must here repeat, with some enlargement,
what I said before on this head. These unbelieving
gentlemen will answer,—
First, That a new commission was every day ex-
pected for the stamped paper, and he knew his name
would be left out; and therefore his resignation |
would be an appearance of virtue cheaply bought.
Secondly, He dreaded the violence of creditors,
against which his employments were no manner of
security.
Thirdly, Being a person of great sagacity, he has
some foresight of a change from the usual age of a
ministry, which is now almost expired; from the
little misunderstandings that have been reported
sometimes to happen among the men in power;
from the bill of commerce being rejected, and from
some horrible expectations wherewith his party
have been deceiving themselves and their friends
abroad for about two years past.
Fourthly, He hopes to come into all the perqui-
sites of his predecessor Ridpath, and be the princi-
pal writer of his faction, where everything is printed
by subscription, which will amply make up the loss
of his place.
But it may be still demanded why he affects those
exalted strains of piety and resignation? To this I
answer with great probability, that he has resumed
his old pursuits after the philosopher's stone, to-
to-
ward which it is held by all adepts for a most essen-
tial ingredient, that a man must seek it merely for
the glory of God, and without the least desire of
being rich.
Mr. Steele is angry, p. 60, that some of our friends
have been reflected on in a pamphlet, because they
left us in a point of the greatest consequence; and
upon that account he runs into their panegyric,
against his conscience and the interest of his cause,
without considering that those gentlemen have re-
verted to us again. The case is thus: he never
would have praised them if they had remained firm,
nor should we have railed at them. The one is full
as honest and as natural as the other. However, Mr.
Steele hopes (I beg you, Mr. Bailiff, to observe the
consequence) that, notwithstanding this pamphlet's
reflecting
on some Tories who opposed the treaty of
commerce, "the ministry will see Dunkirk effect-
ually demolished."
the
Mr. Steele says something in commendation of
queen; but stops short, and tells you (if I take
his meaning right) "that he shall leave what he
has to say on this topic till he and her majesty are
both dead," p. 61. Thus, he defers his praises as
he does his debts, after the manner of the Druids, to
be paid in another world. If I have ill interpreted
If I have ill interpreted
him, it is his own fault, for studying cadence instead
of propriety, and filling up niches with words before
he has adjusted his conceptions to them. One part
of the queen's character is this: " that all the hours
("
of her life are divided between the exercises of de-
votion, and taking minutes of the sublime affairs of
her government." Now, if the business of Dunkirk
be one of the "sublime affairs of her majesty's go-
vernment," I think we ought to be at ease; or else
she "takes her minutes" to little purpose. No,
says Mr. Steele, the queen is a lady; and, unless a
prince will now and then get drunk with his minis-
ters, "he cannot learn their interests or humours,"
p. 61; but this being by no means proper for a lady,
she can know nothing but what they think fit to tell
her when they are sober. And therefore "all the
fellow-subjects" of these ministers must watch their
motions, and "be very solicitous for what passes
beyond the ordinary rules of government."-Ibid.
For while we are foolishly "relying upon her ma-
jesty's virtues," these ministers are taking the ad-
vantage of increasing the power of France."
There is a very good maxim-I think it is neither
Whig nor Tory-" that the prince can do no wrong :"
which I doubt is often applied to very ill purposes.
A monarch of Britain is pleased to create a dozen
peers, and to make a peace; both these actions are
(for instance) within the undisputed prerogative of
the crown, and are to be reputed and submitted to
as the actions of the prince; but, as a king of Eng-
land is supposed to be guided in matters of such
importance by the advice of those he employs in his
councils, whenever a parliament thinks fit to com-
plain of such proceedings as a public grievance, then
this maxim takes place that the prince can do no
wrong, and the advisers are called to account. But
shall this empower such an individual as Mr. Steele
in his tatling or pamphleteering capacity to fix "the
ordinary rules of government," or to affirm that
"her ministers, upon the security of her majesty's
goodness, are labouring for the grandeur of France?"
What ordinary rule of government is transgressed
by the queen's delaying the demolition of Dunkirk ?
or what addition is thereby made to the grandeur of
France? Every tailor in your corporation is as
much a fellow-subject as Mr. Steele; and do you
think in your conscience that every tailor of Stock-
bridge is fit to direct her majesty and her ministers
in "the sublime affairs of her government?"
But he persists in it "that it is no manner of
diminution of the wisdom of a prince that he is
obliged to act by the information of others." The
sense is admirable, and the interpretation is this,
that what a man is forced to "is no diminution of
his wisdom." But if he would conclude from this
sage maxim, that, because a prince "acts by the
information of others," therefore those actions may
lawfully be traduced in print by every fellow-sub-
ject, I hope there is no man in England so much a
Whig as to be of his opinion.
Mr. Steele concludes his letter to you with a story
about king William and his French dog-keeper,
"who gave that prince a gun loaden only with pow-
der, and then pretended to wonder how his majesty
could miss his aim: which was no argument against
the king's reputation for shooting very finely." This
he would have you apply, by allowing her majesty
to be a wise prince, but deceived by wicked coun-
sellors who are in the interest of France.
Her ma-
jesty's aim was peace, which I think she has not
missed; and God be thanked, she has got it without
any more expense either of shot or powder. Her
dog-keepers for some years past had directed her
gun against her friends, and at last loaded
deep that it was in danger to burst in her hands.
it so
You may please to observe that Mr. Steele calls
this dog-keeper a minister; which, with humble
submission, is a gross impropriety of speech. The
394
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
word is derived from the Latin, where it properly
signifies a servant; but in England is never made
use of otherwise than to denominate those who are
employed in the service of church or state; so that
the appellation, as he directs it, is no less absurd than
it would be for you, Mr. Bailiff, to send your appren-
tice for a pot of ale, and give him the title of your
envoy; to call a petty constable a magistrate, or the
common hangman a minister of justice. I confess
when I was choqued [shocked] at this word in
reading the paragraph, a gentleman offered his con-
jecture that it might possibly be intended for a re-
flection or jest: but if there be anything further in
it than a want of understanding our language, I
take it to be only a refinement upon the old levelling
principle of the Whigs. Thus in their opinion a
dog-keeper is as much a minister as any secretary of
state; and thus Mr. Steele and my lord-treasurer
are both fellow-subjects. I confess I have known
some ministers whose birth, or qualities, or both,
were such, that nothing but the capriciousness of
fortune and the iniquity of the times could ever have
raised them above the station of dog-keepers, and to
whose administration I should be loth to intrust a
dog I had any value for: because, by the rule of
proportion, they who treated their prince like a
slave would have used their fellow-subjects like
dogs; and yet how they would treat a dog I can
find no similitude to express; yet I well remember
they maintained a large number, whom they taught
to fawn upon themselves and bark at their mistress.
However, while they were in service, I wish they
had only kept her majesty's dogs, and not been
trusted with her guns. And thus much by way of
comment upon this worthy story of king William
and his dog-keeper.
I have now, Mr. Bailiff, explained to you all the
difficult parts in Mr. Steele's letter. As for the im-
portance of Dunkirk, and when it shall be demo-
lished, or whether it shall be demolished or not,
neither he, nor you, nor I, have anything to do in
the matter. Let us all say what we please, her ma-
jesty will think herself the best judge, and her
ministers the best advisers; neither has Mr. Steele
pretended to prove that any law, ecclesiastical or
civil, statute or common, is broken by keeping Dun-
kirk undemolished so long as the queen shall think
it best for the service of herself and her king-
doms; and it is not altogether impossible that there
may be some few reasons of state which have not
been yet communicated to Mr. Steele.
I am, with respect to the borough and yourself,
sir, your most humble and most obedient servant, &c.
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE
WHIGS,
SET FORTH IN THEIR GENEROUS ENCOURAGEMENT
OF THE AUTHOR OF THE CRISIS.
With some Observations on the Seasonableness, Candour,
Erudition, and Style of that Treatise.
On the first publication of this pamphlet, all the Scotch lords
then in London went in a body, and complained to queen Anne
of the affront put on them and their nation by the author of
this treatise. Whereupon a proclamation was published by
her majesty, offering a reward of three hundred pounds for
discovering him.—ORRERY.
I CANNOT, without some envy, and a just resentment
against the opposite conduct of others, reflect upon
that generosity and tenderness wherewith the heads
and principal members of a struggling faction treat
those who will undertake to hold a pen in their de-
fence. And the behaviour of these patrons is yet
the more laudable, because the benefits they confer
are almost gratis. If any of their labourers can
scratch out a pamphlet, they desire no more; there
is no question offered about the wit, the style, the
argument. Let a pamphlet come out upon demand
in a proper juncture, you shall be well and certainly
paid: you shall be paid beforehand; every one of
the party who is able to read and can spare a shil-
ling shall be a subscriber; several thousands of
each production shall be sent among their friends
through the kingdom: the work shall be reported
admirable, sublime, unanswerable; shall serve to
raise the sinking clamours, and confirm the scandal
of introducing popery and the pretender upon the
queen and her ministers.
Among the present writers on that side I can
recollect but three of any great distinction, which
are, the Flying Post, Mr. Dunton, and the author of
the Crisis. The first of these seems to have been
much sunk in reputation since the sudden retreat of
the only true, genuine, original author, Mr. Rid-
path, who is celebrated by the Dutch Gazetteer as
one of the best pens in England." Mr. Dunton
has been longer and more conversant in books than
any of the three, as well as more voluminous in his
productions; however, having employed his studies
in so great a variety of other subjects, he has I think
but lately turned his genius to politics. His famous
tract entitled "Neck or Nothing" must be allowed
to be the shrewdest piece, and written with the most
spirit, of any which has appeared from that side since
the change of the ministry: it is indeed a most cut-
ting satire upon the lord-treasurer and lord Boling-
broke; and I wonder none of our friends ever un-
dertook to answer it. I confess I was at first of the
same opinion with several good judges, who, from
the style and manner, suppose it to have issued from
the sharp pen of the earl of Nottingham; and I am
still apt to think it might receive his lordship's last
hand.
hand. The third and principal of this triumvirate
is the author of the Crisis, who, although he must
yield to the Flying Post in knowledge of the world
and skill in politics, and to Mr. Dunton in keenness
of satire and variety of reading, has yet other qua-
lities enough to denominate him a writer of a supe-
rior class to either; provided he would a little
regard the propriety and disposition of his words,
consult the grammatical part, and get some informa-
tion in the subject he intends to handle.
Omitting the generous countenance and encour-
agement that have been shown to the persons and
productions of the two former authors, I shall here
only consider the great favour conferred upon the
last. It has been advertised for several months in
the Englishman, and other papers, that a pamphlet
called the Crisis should be published at a proper
time, in order to open the eyes of the nation. It
was proposed to be printed by subscription, price a
shilling. This was a little out of form, because sub-
scriptions are usually begged only for books of great
price, and such as are not likely to have a general
sale. Notice was likewise given of what this pam-
phlet should contain; only an extract from certain
acts of parliament relating to the succession, which
at least must sink ninepence in the shilling, and
leave but threepence for the author's political
reflections; so that nothing very wonderful or deci-
sive could be reasonably expected from this per-
formance. But a work was to be done, a hearty
Mr. Steele was expelled the house of commons for this
pamphlet at the very same time that the house of lords was
moved against the dean for the reply.
b A paper written by Steele in favour of the Whig adminis
tration.
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
395
writer to be encouraged, and accordingly many
accordingly many
thousand copies were bespoke. Neither could this
be sufficient; for when we expected to have our
bundles delivered us, all was stopped; the friends to
the cause sprang a new project; and it was adver-
tised that the Crisis could not appear till the ladies
had shown their zeal against the pretender as well as
the men; against the pretender, in the bloom of his
youth, reported to be handsome and endued with an
understanding exactly of a size to please the sex.
I should be glad to have seen a printed list of the
fair subscribers prefixed to this pamphlet, by which
the chevalier might know he was so far from pre-
tending to a monarchy here that he could not so
much as pretend to a mistress.
four translations of the word Crisis, any of which
may be as properly applied to this author's Letter to
the Bailiff of Stockbridge. Next, what he calls a
discourse consists only of two pages prefixed to
twenty-two more, which contain extracts from acts
of parliament; for, as to the twelve last pages, they
are provided for themselves in the title under the
name of "some seasonable remarks on the danger of
a popish successor." Another circumstance worthy
our information in the title-page is, that the crown
has been settled by previous acts. I never heard of
any act of parliament that was not previous to what
it enacted, unless those two by which the earl of
Strafford and sir John Fenwick lost their heads may
pass for exceptions. "A Discourse, representing
from the most Authentic Records," &c. He has
borrowed this expression from some writer who pro-
bably understood the words; but this gentleman
has altogether misapplied them, and, under favour,
he is wholly mistaken; for a heap of extracts from
several acts of parliament cannot be called a dis-
course, neither do I believe he copied them from the
most authentic records, which, as I take it, are
lodged in the Tower, but out of some common
every-printed
printed copy. I grant there is nothing material in
all this, further than to show the generosity of our
adversaries in encouraging a writer who cannot fur-
nish out so much as a title-page with propriety or
At the destined period the first news we hear is of
a huge train of dukes, earls, viscounts, barons,
knights, esquires, gentlemen, and others, going to
Sam Buckley's, the publisher of the Crisis, to fetch
home their cargoes, in order to transmit them by
dozens, scores, and hundreds, into the several coun-
ties, and thereby to prepare the wills and under-
standings of their friends against the approaching
sessions. Ask any of them whether they have read
it, they will answer no; but they have sent it every-
where, and it will do a world of good. It is a pam-
phlet, they hear, against the ministry; talks of sla-
very, France, and the pretender; they desire no
more; it will settle the wavering, confirm the doubt-
ful, instruct the ignorant, inflame the clamorous,
although it never be once looked into. I am told,
I am told,
by those who are expert in the trade, that the author
and bookseller of this twelvepenny treatise will be
greater gainers than from one edition of any folio
that has been published these twenty years. What
needy writer would not solicit to work under such
masters, who will pay us beforehand, take off as
much of our ware as we please at our own rates,
and trouble not themselves to examine, either before or
after they have bought it, whether it be staple or not?
But, in order to illustrate the implicit munificence
of these noble patrons, I cannot take a more effect-
ual method than by examining the production it-
self; by which we shall easily find that it was never
intended further than from the noise, the bulk, and
the title of Crisis, to do any service to the factious
cause. The entire piece consists of a title-page,
a dedication to the clergy, a preface, an extract from
certain acts of parliament, and about ten pages of
dry reflections on the proceedings of the queen and
her servants; which his coadjutors, the earl of Not-
tingham, Mr. Dunton, and the Flying Post, had long
ago set before us in a much clearer light.
In popish countries, when some impostor cries
out, A miracle! a miracle! it is not done with a
hope or intention of converting heretics, but con-
firming the deluded vulgar in their errors: and so
the cry goes round without examining into the cheat.
Thus the Whigs among us give about the cry,
A pamphlet! a pamphlet! the Crisis! the Crisis!
not with a view of convincing their adversaries, but
to raise the spirits of their friends, recal their strag-
glers, and unite their numbers by sound and impu-
dence, as bees assemble and cling together by the
noise of brass.
That no other effect could be imagined or hoped
for, by the publication of this timely treatise, will be
manifest from some obvious reflections upon the
several parts of it, wherein the follies, the falsehoods,
or the absurdities appear so frequent that they may
boldly contend for number with the lines.
When the hawker holds this pamphlet toward you,
the first words you perceive are, "The Crisis; or,
A Discourse," &c. The interpreter of Suidas gives
|
common sense.
Next follows the dedication to the clergy of the
church of England, wherein the modesty and the
meaning of the first paragraphs are hardly to be
matched. He tells them he has made a comment
upon the acts of settlement, which he lays before
them, and conjures them to recommend, in their
writings and discourses, to their fellow-subjects: and
he does all this out of a just deference to their great
power and influence. This is the right Whig scheme
of directing the clergy what to preach. The arch-
bishop of Canterbury's jurisdiction extends no fur-
ther than over his own province; but the author of
the Crisis constitutes himself vicar-general over the
whole clergy of the church of England. The bishops,
in their letters or speeches to their own clergy, pro-
ceed no further than to exhortation; but this writer
conjures the whole clergy of the church to recom-
mend his comment upon the laws of the land in
their writings and discourses. I would fain know
who made him a commentator upon the laws of the
land; after which it will be time enough to ask him.
by what authority he directs the clergy to recom-
mend his comments from the pulpit or the press?
He tells the clergy there are two circumstances
which place the minds of the people under their
direction; the first circumstance is their education;
the second circumstance is the tenths of our lands.
This last, according to the Latin phrase, is spoken
ad invidiam; for he knows well enough they have
not the twentieth: but if you take it in his own way,
the landlord has nine parts in ten of the people's
minds under his direction. Upon this rock the au-
thor before us is perpetually splitting, as often as he
ventures out beyond the narrow bounds of his lite-
rature. He has a confused remembrance of words.
since he left the university, but has lost half their
meaning, and puts them together with no regard ex-
cept to their cadence; as I remember a fellow nailed
up maps in a gentleman's closet, some sidelong, others.
upside down, the better to adjust them to the pannels.
I am sensible it is of little consequence to their
cause, whether this defender of it understands gram-
mar or not; and if what he would fain say dis-
covered him to be a well-wisher to reason or truth,
I would be ready to make large allowances. But
396
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
when with great difficulty I descry a composition of
rancour and falsehood intermixed with plausible
nonsense, I feel a struggle between contempt and
indignation at seeing the character of a Censor, a
Guardian, an Englishman, a commentator on the
laws, an instructor of the clergy, assumed by a child
of obscurity, without one single qualification to sup-
port them.
This writer, who either affects or is commanded
of late to copy from the Bishop of Sarum, has, out of
the pregnancy of his invention, found out an old way
of insinuating the grossest reflections, under the ap-
pearance of admonitions; and is so judicious a fol-
lower of the prelate that he taxes the clergy for in-
flaming their people with apprehensions of danger
to them and their constitution from men who are in-
nocent of such designs; when we must needs con-
fess the whole design of his pamphlet is, to inflame
the people with apprehensions of danger from the
present ministry, whom we believe to be at least as
innocent men as the last.
What shall I say to the pamphlet where the
malice and falsehood of every line would require an
answer, and where the dulness and absurdities will
not deserve one?
By his pretending to have always maintained an
inviolable respect to the clergy, he would insinuate
that those papers among the Tatlers and Spectators
where the whole order is abused were not his own.
I will appeal to all who know the flatness of his
style and the barrenness of his invention, whether
he does not grossly prevaricate? Was he ever able
to walk without leading-strings, or swim without
bladders, without being discovered by his hobbling
and his sinking? Has he adhered to his character
in his paper called the Englishman, whereof he is
allowed to be the sole author, without any competi-
tion? What does he think of the letter signed by
himself which relates to Molesworth, in whose de-
fence he affronts the whole convocation of Ireland?
It is a wise maxim, that because the clergy are no
civil lawyers they ought not to preach obedience to
governors; and therefore they ought not to preach
temperance because they are no physicians. Ex-
amine all this author's writings, and then point me
out a divine who knows less of the constitution of
England than he witness those many egregious
blunders in his late papers where he pretended to
dabble in the subject.
a
But the clergy have, it seems, imbibed their notions
of power and obedience, abhorrent from our laws,
from the pompous ideas of imperial greatness and
the submission to absolute emperors, This is gross
ignorance, below a schoolboy in his Lucius Florus.
The Roman history, wherein lads are instructed,
reached little above eight hundred years, and the
authors do everywhere instil republican principles;
and from the account of nine in twelve of the first
emperors we learn to have a detestation against
tyranny. The Greeks carry this point yet a great
deal higher, which none can be ignorant of who has
read or heard them quoted. This gave Hobbes the
occasion of advancing a position directly contrary;
that the youth of England were corrupted in their
political principles by reading the histories of Rome
and Greece; which, having been written under re-
publics, taught the readers to have ill notions of
monarchy. In this assertion there was something
specious; but that advanced by the Crisis could only
issue from the profoundest ignorance.
But would you know his scheme of education for
young gentlemen at the university? It is, that they
a Mr. (afterwards lord viscount) Molesworth,
|
|
should spend their time in perusing those acts of
parliament, whereof his pamphlet is an extract,
which, if it had been done, the kingdom would not
be in its present condition, but every member sent
into the world thus instructed since the Revolution
would have been an advocate for our rights and
liberties.
Here now is a project for getting more money by
the Crisis! to have it read by tutors in the universi-
ties. I thoroughly agree with him, that if our stu-
dents had been thus employed for twenty years past
the kingdom had not been in its present condition;
but we have too many of such proficients already
among the young nobility and gentry, who have
gathered up their politics from chocolate-houses and
factious clubs; and who, if they had spent their
time in hard study at Oxford or Cambridge, we
might indeed have said that the factious part of this
kingdom had not been in its present condition, or
have suffered themselves to be taught that a few acts
of parliament relating to the succession are prefer-
able to all other civil institutions whatsoever. Nei-
ther did I ever before hear that an act of parliamen;
relating to one particular point could be called a
civil institution.
He spends almost a quarto page in telling the
clergy that they will be certainly perjured if they
bring in the pretender, whom they have abjured;
and he wisely reminds them that they have sworn
without equivocation or mental reservation, other-
wise the clergy might think that as soon as they re-
ceived the pretender and turned papists they would
be free from their oath.
This honest, civil, ingenious gentleman knows in
his conscience that there are not ten clergymen in
England (except nonjurors) who do not abhor the
thoughts of the pretender reigning over us much
more than himself. But this is the spittle of the
bishop of Sarum, which our author licks up and
swallows, and then coughs out again with an addi-
tion of his own phlegm. I would fain suppose the
body of the clergy were to return an answer by one
of their members to these worthy counsellors. I
conceive it might be in the following terms :—
"MY LORD And GentlemEN,-The clergy com-
mand me to give you thanks for your advice; and
if they knew any crimes from which either of
you
were as free as they are from those which you so
earnestly exhort them to avoid, they would return
your favour as near as possible in the same style and
manner. However, that your advice may not be
wholly lost, particularly that part of it which relates
to the pretender, they desire you would apply it
to more proper persons. Look among your own
leaders; examine which of them engaged in a plot
to restore the late king James, and received pardons
under his seal; examine which of them have been
since tampering with his pretended son, and to gra-
tify their ambition, their avarice, their malice, and
revenge, are now willing to restore him, at the ex-
pense of the religion and liberty of their country.
Retire, good my lord, with your pupil, and let us
hear no more of these hypocritical insinuations, lest
the queen and ministers, who have been hitherto con-
tent with only disappointing the lurking villanies of
your faction, may be at last provoked to expose them."
But his respect for the clergy is such that he does
not insinuate as if they really had these evil dispo-
sitions; he only insinuates that they give too much
cause for such insinuations.
I will upon occasion strip some of his insinuations
from their generality and solecisms, and drag them
into the light. His dedication to the clergy is full
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
397
of them, because here he endeavours to mould up
his rancour and civility together, by which con-
straint he is obliged to shorten his paragraphs and
to place them in such a light that they obscure one
another. Supposing therefore that I have scraped
off his good manners in order to come at his mean-
ing, which lies under; he tells the clergy that the
favour of the queen and her ministers is but a colour
of zeal toward them; that the people were deluded
by a groundless cry of the church's danger at Sach-
everel's trial; that the clergy, as they are men of
sense and honour, ought to preach this truth to their
several congregations, and let them know that the
true design of the present men in power, in that and
all their proceedings since in favour of the church,
was to bring in popery, France, and the pretender,
and to enslave all Europe, contrary to the laws of
our country, the power of the legislature, the faith
of nations, and the honour of God.
I cannot see why the clergy, as men of sense and
men of honour (for he appeals not to them as men
of religion), should not be allowed to know when
they are in danger, and be able to guess whence it
comes, and who are their protectors. The design
of their destruction indeed may have been projected
in the dark, but when all was ripe their enemies.
proceeded to so many overt acts in the face of the
nation, that it was obvious to the meanest people,
who wanted no other motives to rouse them. On
the other side, can this author, or the wisest of his
faction, assign one single act of the present ministry
any way tending toward bringing in the pretender,
or to weaken the succession of the house of Hanover?
Observe then the reasonableness of this gentleman's
advice: the clergy, the gentry, and the common
people had the utmost apprehensions of danger to
the church under the late ministry; yet then it was
the greatest impiety to inflame the people with any
such apprehensions. His danger of a popish suc-
cessor from any steps of the present ministry is an
artificial calumny, raised and spread against the con-
viction of the inventors, pretended to be believed
only by those who abhor the constitution in church
and state; an obdurate faction who compass heaven
and earth to restore themselves upon the ruin of
their country; yet here our author exhorts the clergy
to preach up this imaginary danger to their people,
and disturb the public peace with his strained sedi-
tious comments.
But how comes this gracious licence to the clergy
from the Whigs, to concern themselves with politics
of any sort, although it be only the glosses and com-
ments of Mr. Steele? The speeches of the managers
at Sacheverel's trial, particularly those of Stanhope,
Lechmere, King, Parker,a and some others, seemed
to deliver a different doctrine. Nay, this very dedi-
cation complains of some in holy orders who have
made the constitution of their country (in which and
the Coptic Mr. Steele is equally skilled) a very little
part of their study, and yet made obedience and
government the frequent subjects of their discourses.
This difficulty is easily solved, for by politics they
mean obedience. Mr. Hoadly,b who is a champion
for resistance, was never charged with meddling out
of his function: Hugh Peters and his brethren, in
the times of usurpation, had full liberty to preach
up sedition and rebellion; and so here Mr. Steele
issues out his licence to the clergy to preach up the
danger of a popish pretender, in defiance of the queen
and her administration.
Every whiffler in a laced coat who frequents the
• Created peers by king George I.
b Dr. Benjamin Hoadly, successively bishop of Bangor, Here-
ford, Salisbury, and Winchester.
chocolate-house and is able to spell the title of a
pamphlet shall talk of the constitution with as much
plausibility as this very solemn writer, and with as
good a grace blame the clergy for meddling with
politics, which they do not understand.
I have
known many of these able politicians furnished
before they were of age with all the necessary topics
of their faction, and by the help of about twenty
polysyllables capable of maintaining an argument
that would shine in the Crisis; whose author gathered
up his little stock from the same schools, and has
written from no other fund.
But after all it is not clear to me whether this
gentleman addresses himself to the clergy of Eng-
land in general, or only to those very few (hardly
enough, in case of a change, to supply the mortality
of those self-denying prelates he celebrates) who are
in his principles, and among these, only such as live
in and about London, which probably will reduce
the number to about half-a-dozen at most. I should
incline to guess the latter, because he tells them they
are surrounded by a learned, wealthy, knowing
gentry, who know with what firmness, self-denial,
and charity, the bishops adhered to the public cause,
and what contumelies those clergymen have under-
gone, &c., who adhered to the cause of truth. By
those terms, the public cause, and the cause of truth,
he understands the cause of the Whigs, in opposition
to the queen and her servants; therefore by the
learned, wealthy, and knowing gentry, he must un-
derstand the Bank and East India company and
those other merchants or citizens within the bills of
mortality who have been strenuous against the church
and crown, and whose spirit of faction has lately got
the better of their interest. For let him search all
the rest of the kingdom, he will find the surrounded
clergy and the surrounding gentry wholly strangers
to the merits of those prelates, and adhering to a
very different cause of truth, as will soon I hope be
manifest by a fair appeal to the representatives of
both.
It was very unnecessary in this writer to bespeak
the treatment of contempt and derision which the
clergy are to expect from his faction, whenever they
come into power. I believe that venerable body is
in very little concern after what manner their most
mortal enemies intend to treat them, whenever it
shall please God for our sins to visit us with so fatal
an event, which I hope it will be the united endea-
vours both of clergy and laity to hinder. It would
be some support to this hope if I could have any
opinion of his predicting talent (which some have
ascribed to people of this author's character), where
he tells us that noise and wrath will not always pass
for zeal. What other instances of zeal has this gen-
tleman or the rest of his party been able to produce?
If clamour be noise, it is but opening our ears to
know from what side it comes; and if sedition,
scurrility, slander, and calumny be the fruit of wrath,
read the pamphlets and papers issuing from the
zealots of that faction, or visit their clubs and coffee-
houses, in order to form a judgment of the tree.
When Mr. Steele tells us we have a religion that
wants no support from the enlargement of secular
power, but is well supported by the wisdom and
piety of its preachers and its own native truth, it
would be good to know what religion he professes;
for the clergy to whom he speaks will never allow
him to be a member of the church of England.
They cannot agree that the truth of the gospel, and
the piety and wisdom of its preachers, are a sufficient
support, in an evil age, against infidelity, faction,
and vice, without the assistance of secular power,
unless God would please to confer the gift of miracles
398
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
on those who wait at the altar. I believe they ven-
ture to go a little further, and think that upon some
occasions they want a little enlargement of assistance
from the secular power against atheists, deists, so-
cinians, and other heretics. Every first day in Lent a
part of the liturgy is read to the people, in the preface
to which the church declares her wishes for the
restoring of that discipline she formerly had, and
which for some years past has been more wanted
than ever. But of this no more, lest it might insi-
nuate jealousies between the clergy and laity, which
the author tells us is the policy of vain ambitious
men among the former, in hopes to derive from their
order a veneration they cannot deserve from their
virtue. If this be their method for procuring vene-
ration, it is the most singular that ever was thought
on, and the clergy would then indeed have no more
to do with politics of any sort than Mr. Steele or his
faction will allow them.
Having thus toiled through his dedication, I pro-
ceed to consider his preface, which, half consisting
of quotation, will be so much the sooner got through.
It is a very unfair thing in any writer to employ
his ignorance and malice together, because it gives his
answerer double work; it is like the sort of sophistry
that the logicians call two mediums, which are never
allowed in the same syllogism. A writer with a
weak head and a corrupt heart is an over-match for
any single pen; like a hireling jade, dull and vicious,
hardly able to stir, yet offering at every turn to kick.
He begins his preface with such an account of the
original of power and the nature of civil institutions
as I am confident was never once imagined by any
writer upon government, from Plato to Mr. Locke.
Give me leave to transcribe his first paragraph: "I
never saw an unruly crowd of people cool by degrees
into temper, but it gave me an idea of the original
of power and the nature of civil institutions. One
particular man has usually in those cases, from the
dignity of his appearance or other qualities known
or imagined by the multitude, been received into
sudden favour and authority; the occasion of their
difference has been represented to him, and the
matter referred to his decision."
I have known a poet, who never was out of Eng-
land, introduce a fact by way of simile, which could
probably nowhere happen nearer than in the plains
of Libya, and begin with "So have I seen.”
Such
a fiction I suppose may be justified by poetical
licence; yet Virgil is much more modest. This
paragraph of Mr. Steele's, which he sets down as
an observation of his own, is a miserable mangled
translation of six verses out of that famous poet,
who speaks after this manner: "As when a sedition
arises in a great multitude, &c., then if they see a
wise great man," &c. Virgil, who lived but a little
after the ruin of the Roman republic, where sedi-
tions often happened, and the force of oratory was
great among the people, made use of a simile which
Mr. Steele turns into a fact, after such a manner as
if he had seen it a hundred times, and builds upon it
a system of the origin of government. When the
vulgar here in England assemble in a riotous manner
(which is not very frequent of late years), the prince
takes a much more effectual way than that of send-
ing orators to appease them; but Mr. Steele imagines
such a crowd of people as this where there is no
government at all; their unruliness quelled, and
their passions cooled by a particular man, whose
great qualities they had known before.
assembly must have risen suddenly from the earth,
and the man of authority dropped from the clouds,
for without some previous form of government no
such crowd did ever yet assemble, or could possibly
Such an
be acquainted with the merits and dignity of any
particular man among them. But to pursue his
scheme: this man of authority, who cools the crowd
by degrees, and to whom they all appeal, must of
necessity prove either an open or clandestine tyrant.
A clandestine tyrant I take to be a king of Brentford,
who keeps his army in disguise, and whenever he
happens either to die naturally, be knocked on the
head, or deposed, the people calmly take further
measures and improve upon what was begun under
his unlimited power. All this, our author tells us
with extreme propriety, is what seems reasonable to
common sense; that is, in other words, it seems
reasonable to reason. This is what he calls giving
an idea of the original of power and the nature of
civil institutions. To which I answer, with great
phlegm, that I defy any man alive to show me in
double the number of lines, although writ by the
same author, such a complicated ignorance in history,
human nature, or politics, as well as in the ordinary
properties of thought or of style.
But it seems these profound speculations were
only premised to introduce some quotations in
favour of resistance. What has resistance to do
with the succession of the house of Hanover, that
the Whig writers should perpetually affect to tack
them together? I can conceive nothing else but that
their hatred to the queen and ministry puts them
upon thoughts of introducing the successor by ano-
ther revolution. Are cases of extreme necessity to
be introduced as common maxims by which we are
always to proceed? Should not these gentlemen
sometimes inculcate the general rule of obedience,
and not always the exception of resistance? since
the former has been the perpetual dictate of all laws,
both divine and civil, and the latter is still in dis-
pute.
I shall meddle with none of the passages he cites
to prove the lawfulness of resisting princes, except
that from the present lord-chancellor's speech in
defence of Mr. Sacheverel; "that there are extra-
ordinary cases, cases of necessity, which are implied,
although not expressed, in the general rule" (of obc-
dience). These words, very clear in themselves,
Mr. Steele explains into nonsense; which in any
other author I should suspect to have been intended
as a reflection upon as great a person as ever filled
or adorned that high station; but I am so well ac-
quainted with his pen, that I much more wonder
how it can trace out a true quotation than a false
comment. To see him treat my lord Harcourt with
so much civility looks indeed a little suspicious, and
as if he had malice in his heart. He calls his lord-
ship a very great man, and a great living authority;
places himself in company with general Stanhope
and Mr. Hoadly; and in short takes the most effect-
ual method in his power of ruining his lordship in
the opinion of every man who is wise or good. I
can only tell my lord Harcourt, for his comfort, that
these praises are encumbered with the doctrine of
resistance and the true revolution principles; and
provided he will not allow Mr. Steele for his com-
mentator, he may hope to recover the honour of be-
ing libelled again, as well as his sovereign and fellow-
servants.
We now come to the Crisis; where we meet with
two pages, by way of introduction to those extracts
from acts of parliament that constitute the body of
his pamphlet. This introduction begins with a defi-
nition of liberty, and then proceeds in a panegyric
upon
upon that great blessing. His panegyric is made up
of half-a-dozen shreds, like a schoolboy's theme,
beaten general topics, where any other man alive
Sir Simon, first lord Harcourt.
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
399
might wander securely; but this politician, by ven-
turing to vary the good old phrases, and give them
a new turn, commits a hundred solecisms and ab-
surdities. The weighty truths which he endeavours to
press upon his reader are such as these: That liberty
is a very good thing; that without liberty we cannot
be free; that health is good, and strength is good,
but liberty is better than either; that no man can
be happy without the liberty of doing whatever his
own mind tells him is best; that men of quality love
liberty, and common people love liberty; even women
and children love liberty; and you cannot please
them better than by letting them do what they please.
Had Mr. Steele contented himself to deliver these
and the like maxims in such intelligible terms, I
could have found where we agreed and where we
differed. But let us hear some of these axioms, as
he has involved them. "We cannot possess our
souls with pleasure and satisfaction, except we pre-
serve in ourselves that inestimable blessing which
we call liberty. By liberty I desire to be under-
stood to mean the happiness of men's living," &c.
The true "life of man consists in conducting it
according to his own just sentiments and innocent
inclinations ;-man's being is degraded below that
of a free agent, when his affections and passions are
no longer governed by the dictates of his own mind." |
-"Without liberty our health (among other things)
may be at the will of a tyrant, employed to our own
ruin and that of our fellow-creatures." If there be
any of these maxims which are not grossly defective
in truth, in sense, or in grammar, I will allow them
to pass for uncontrollable. By the first, omitting
the pedantry of the whole expression, there are not
above one or two nations in the world where any
one man can possess his soul with pleasure and satis-
faction. In the second, he desires to be understood
to mean; that is he desires to be meant to mean, or
to be understood to understand. In the third, the
life of man consists in conducting his life. In the
fourth he affirms that men's beings are degraded
when their passions are no longer governed by the
dictates of their own minds; directly contrary to
lessons of all moralists and legislators, who agree
unanimously that the passions of men must be
under the government of reason and law; neither
are the laws of any other use than to correct the
irregularity of our affections. By the last, our health
By the last, our health
is ruinous to ourselves and other men when a tyrant
pleases; which I leave to him to make out.
I cannot sufficiently commend our ancestors for
transmitting to us the blessing of liberty; yet, having
laid out their blood and treasure upon the purchase,
I do not see how they acted parsimoniously, because
I can conceive nothing more generous than that of
employing our blood and treasure for the service of
others. But I am suddenly struck with the thought
that I have found his meaning; our ancestors acted
parsimoniously because they spent only their own
treasure for the good of their posterity; whereas we
squander away the treasures of our posterity too;
but whether they will be thankful, and think it was
done for the preservation of their liberty, must be left
to themselves for a decision.
I verily believe, although I could not prove it in
Westminster-hall before a lord-chief-justice, that by
enemies to our present establishment Mr. Steele
would desire to be understood to mean my lord-
treasurer and the rest of the ministry; by those who
are grown supine, in proportion to the danger to
which our liberty is every day more exposed, I should
guess he means the Tories; and by honest men, who
ought to look up with a spirit that becomes honesty,
he understands the Whigs: I likewise believe he
|
|
would take it ill or think me stupid if I did not
thus expound him. I say then, that, according
to this exposition, the four great officers of state,
together with the rest of the cabinet council (except
the archbishop of Canterbury [Dr. Tenisonj), are
"enemies to our establishment, making artful and
open attacks upon our constitution, and are now
practising indirect arts and mean subtleties to
weaken the security of those acts of parliament for
settling the succession in the house of Hanover."
The first and most notorious of these criminals is
Robert Harley, earl of Oxford, lord-high-treasurer,
who is reputed to be chief minister; the second is
James Butler, duke of Ormond, who commands the
army, and designs to employ it in bringing over the
pretender; the third is Henry St. John, lord vis-
count Bolingbroke, secretary of state, who must be
supposed to hold a constant correspondence at the
court of Bar le Duc, as the late earl of Godolphin did
with that at St. Germain: and, to avoid tediousness,
Mr. Bromley [the speaker] and the rest are em-
ployed in their several districts to the same end.
These are the opinions which Mr. Steele and his
faction, under the direction of their leaders, are en-
deavouring with all their might to propagate among
the people of England concerning the present
ministry; with what reservation to the honour,
wisdom, or justice of the queen, I cannot determine;
who by her own free choice, after long experience
of their abilities and integrity, and in compliance
with the general wishes of her people, called them
to her service. Such an accusation against persons
in so high trust should require, I think, at least one
single overt act to make it good. If there be no
other choice of persons fit to serve the crown, with-
out danger from the pretender, except among those
who are called the Whig party, the Hanover succes-
sion is then indeed in a very desperate state; that
illustrious family will have almost nine in ten of the
kingdom against it, and those principally of the
landed interest; which is most to be depended upon
in such a nation as ours.
I have now got as far as his extracts, which I shall
not be at the pains of comparing with the originals,
but suppose he has gotten them fairly transcribed; I
only think that whoever is patentee for printing acts
of parliament may have a very fair action against
him for invasion of property; but this is none of my
business to inquire into.
After two-and-twenty pages spent in reciting acts
of parliament, he desires leave to repeat the history
and progress of the Union; upon which I have
some few things to observe.
This work, he tells us, was unsuccessfully at-
tempted by several of her majesty's predecessors;
although I do not remember it was ever thought on
by any except king James I. and the late king
William. I have read indeed that some small over-
tures were made by the former of these princes to-
ward a union between the two kingdoms, but rejected
with indignation and contempt by the English; and
the historian tells us that, how degenerate and cor-
rupt soever the court and parliament then were, they
would not give ear to so infamous a proposal. I do
not find that any of the succeeding princes before
the Revolution ever resumed the design; because it
was a project for which there could not possibly be
assigned the least reason or necessity; for I defy any
mortal to name one single advantage that England
could ever expect from such a union.
But toward the end of the late king's reign, upon
apprehensions of the want of issue from him or the
princess Anne, a proposition for uniting both king-
doms was begun; because Scotland had not settled
400
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
their crown upon the house of Hanover, but left
themselves at large, in hopes to make their advantage;
and it was thought highly dangerous to leave that
part of the island, inhabited by a poor fierce northern
people, at liberty to put themselves under a different
king. However, the opposition to this work was
so great that it could not be overcome until some
time after her present majesty came to the crown;
when by the weakness or corruption of a certain
minister, since dead, an act of parliament was ob-
tained for the Scots, which gave them leave to arm
themselves; and so the Union became necessary, not
for any actual good it could possibly do us, but to
avoid a probable evil, and at the same time save an
obnoxious minister's head; who was so wise as to take
the first opportunity of procuring a general pardon
by act of parliament, because he could not, with so
much decency and safety, desire a particular one for
himself. These facts are well enough known to the
whole kingdom. And I remember discoursing,
above six years ago, with the most considerable per-
son [lord Somers] of the adverse party, and a great
promoter of the Union: he frankly owned to me
that this necessity, brought upon us by the wrong
management of the earl of Godolphin, was the only
cause of the Union.
Therefore I am ready to grant two points to the
author of the Crisis; first, that the Union became
necessary for the cause above related; because it
prevented this island from being governed by two
kings, which England would never have suffered;
and it might probably have cost us a war of a year
or two to reduce the Scots. Secondly, that it would
be dangerous to break this union, at least in this
juncture, while there is a pretender abroad, who
might probably lay hold of such an opportunity.
And this made me wonder a little at the spirit of
faction last summer among some people, who, hav-
ing been the great promoters of the Union, and se-
veral of them the principal gainers by it, could yet
proceed so far as to propose in the house of lords
that it should be dissolved; while, at the same time,
those peers who had ever opposed it in the begin-
ning were then for preserving it, upon the reason I
have just assigned, and which the author of the
Crisis has likewise taken notice of.
"The
But when he tells us, "the Englishmen ought, in
generosity, to be more particularly careful in pre-
serving this union," he argues like himself.
late kingdom of Scotland," says he, "had as numer-
ous a nobility as England," &c. They had indeed,
and to that we owe one of the great and necessary
evils of the Union, upon the foot it now stands.
Their nobility is indeed so numerous that the whole
revenues of their country would be hardly able to
maintain them according to the dignity of their
titles; and, what is infinitely worse, they are never
likely to be extinct until the last period of all things;
because the greatest part of them descend to heirs
general. I imagine a person of quality prevailed
on to marry a woman much his inferior, and with
out a groat to her fortune, and her friends arguing
she was as good as her husband, because she brought
him as numerous a family of relations and servants
as she found in his house. Scotland, in the taxes,
is obliged to contribute one penny for every forty-
pence laid upon England; and the representatives
they send to parliament are about a thirteenth.
Every other Scotch peer has all the privileges of an
English one, except that of sitting in parliament,
and even precedence before all of the same title that
The pen
shall be created for the time to come.
sions and employments possessed by the natives of
that country now among us do amount to more than
the whole body of their nobility ever spent at home;
and all the money they raise upon the public is
hardly sufficient to defray their civil and military
lists. I could point out some, with great titles, who
affected to appear very vigorous for dissolving the
Union, although their whole revenues, before that
period, would have ill maintained a Welsh justice
of peace; and have since gathered more money than
ever any Scotchman who had not travelled could
form an idea of.
I have only one thing more to say upon occasion
of the Union act; which is, that the author of the
Crisis may be fairly proved, from his own citations.
to be guilty of high-treason. In a paper of his,
called the Englishman, of October 29, there is an
advertisement about taking in subscriptions for
printing the Crisis, where the title is published
at length with the following clause, which the
author thought nt to drop in the publication
[" and that no power on earth can bar, alter, or
make void, the present settlement of the crown, &c.
By Richard Steele']. In his extract of an act of
parliament made since the Union, it appears to be
high-treason for any person, by writing or printing,
to maintain and affirm that the kings or queens of
this realm, with and by the authority of parliament,
are not able to make laws and statutes of sufficient
force and validity to limit and bind the crown, and
the descent, limitation, inheritance, and the govern-
ment thereof. This act being subsequent to the set-
tlement of the crown confirmed at the Union, it is
probable some friend of the author advised him to
leave out those treasonable words in the printed
title-page, which he had before published in the
advertisement; and accordingly we find that in the
treatise itself he only offers it to every good subject's
consideration whether this article of the settlement
of the crown is not as firm as the Union itself, and
as the settlement of episcopacy in England, &c.
And he thinks the Scots understood it so, that the
succession to the crown was never to be contro-
verted.
These I take to be only treasonable insinuations;
but the advertisement beforementioned is actually
high-treason; for which the author ought to be pro-
secuted, if that would avail anything under a juris-
diction where cursing the queen is not above the
penalty of twenty marks.
Nothing is more notorious than that the Whigs
of late years, both in their writings and discourses,
have affected upon all occasions to allow the legiti-
macy of the pretender. This makes me a little
wonder to see our author labouring to prove the
contrary, by producing all the popular chat of those
times, and other solid arguments from Fuller's Nar-
rative but it must be supposed that this gentle-
man acts by the commands of his superiors, who
have thought fit at this juncture to issue out new
orders, for reasons best known to themselves. I
wish they had been more clear in their directions to
him upon that weighty point, whether the settle-
ment of the succession in the house of Hanover be
alterable or not. I have observed where, in his
former pages, he gives it in the negative; but in the
turning of a leaf he has wholly changed his mind.
He tells us he wonders there can be found any
Briton weak enough to contend against a power in
their own nation which is practised in a much
greater degree in other states; and how hard it is
that Britain should be debarred the privilege of es-
tablishing its own security by relinquishing only
those branches of the royal line which threaten it
with destruction; while other nations never scruple,
upon less occasions, to go to much greater lengths;
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
401
of which he produces instances in France, Spain,
Sicily, and Sardinia; and then adds, can Great
Britain help to advance men to other thrones and
have no power in limiting its own? How can a
senator, capable of doing honour to sir Thomas
Hanmer, be guilty of such ridiculous inconsistencies?
"The author of the Conduct of the Allies," says he,
"has dared to drop insinuations about altering the
succession." The author of the Conduct of the
Allies writes sense and English; neither of which
the author of the Crisis understands. The former
thinks "it wrong, in point of policy, to call in a
foreign power to be guarantee of our succession, be-
cause it puts it out of the power of our own legislature
to change our succession without the consent of that
prince or state who is guarantee, whatever necessity
may happen in future times." Now, if it be high-
treason to affirm by writing that the legislature has
no such power, and if Mr. Steele thinks it strange
that Britain should be debarred this privilege, what
could be the crime of putting such a case, that, in
future ages, a necessity might happen of limiting
the succession, as well as it has happened already?
W
I
|
gence? I should think even his brother Ridpath
might furnish him with better.
What crowns or
kingdoms has France dealt about? Spain was given
by the will of the former king, in consequence of
that infamous treaty of partition, the adviser of
which will, I hope, never be forgot in England.
Sicily was disposed of by her majesty of Great Bri-
tain; so, in effect, was Sardinia. France, indeed,
once reached out a king to Poland, but the people
would not receive him. This question of Mr.
Steele's was therefore only put in terrorem, without
any regard to truth.-Seventhly, "Are there no
pretensions to our crown that can ever be revived?"
There may, for aught I know, be about a dozen;
and those in time may possibly beget a hundred ;
but we must do as well as we can. Captain Bessus,
when he had fifty challenges to answer, protested he
could not fight above three duels a-day. If the
pretender should fail, says the writer, the French
king has in his quiver a succession of them; the
duchess of Savoy, or her sons, or the dauphin her
grandson. Let me suppose the chevalier de St.
George to be dead; the duchess of Savoy will then
be a pretender, and consequently must leave her
husband, because his royal highness (for Mr. Steele
has not yet acknowledged him for a king) is in alli-
ance with her British majesty; her sons, when they
grow pretenders, must undergo the same fate.
But
I am at a loss how to dispose of the dauphin, if he
ship to Britain falls to his share; for I doubt he
will never be persuaded to remove out of his own
kingdom, only because it is too near England.
When Mr. Steele "reflects upon the many solemn
strong barriers (to our succession) of laws and oaths,
&c., he thinks all fear vanishes before them.”
think so too, provided the epithet solemn goes for
nothing; because, although I have often heard of a
solemn day, a solemn feast, and a solemn coxcomb,
yet I can conceive no idea to myself of a solemn bar-happen to be king of France before the pretender-
rier. However, be that as it will, his thoughts, it
seems, will not let him rest, but before he is aware
he asks himself several questions; and, since he
cannot resolve them, I will endeavour to give him
what satisfaction I am able. The first is, "What
are the marks of a lasting security?" To which I
answer, that the signs of it in a kingdom or state are,
first, good laws; and, secondly, those laws well exe-
cuted we are pretty well provided with the former,
but extremely defective in the latter.-Secondly,
"What are our tempers and our hearts at home?"
If by ours he means those of himself and his abet-
tors, they are most damnably wicked; impatient for
the death of the queen; ready to gratify their am-
bition and revenge by all desperate methods; wholly
alienate from truth, law, religion, mercy, conscience,
or honour. Thirdly, "In what hands is power
lodged abroad?" To answer the question naturally,
Lewis XIV. is king of France, Philip V. (by the
counsels and acknowledgments of the Whigs) is king
of Spain, and so on. If by power he means money,
the duke of Marlborough is thought to have more
ready money than all the kings of Christendom to-
gether; but, by the peculiar disposition of Provi-
dence, it is locked up in a trunk, to which his am-
bition has no key; and that is our security.-
Fourthly, "Are our unnatural divisions our strength?"
I think not; but they are the sign of it, for, being
unnatural, they cannot last; and this shows that
union, the foundation of all strength, is more agree-
able to our nature. Fifthly, "Is it nothing to us
which of the princes of Europe has the longest
sword?" Not much, if we can tie up his hands, or
put a strong shield into those of his neighbours; or
if our sword be as sharp as his is long; or if it be
necessary for him to turn his own sword into a I have been the longer in answering the seventh
ploughshare; or if such a sword happens to be in question, because it led me to consider all he had
the hands of an infant, or struggled for by two com- afterward to say upon the subject of the pretender.
petitors. Sixthly, "The powerful hand that deals
"The powerful hand that deals Eighthly, and lastly, he asks himself, " Whether
out crowns and kingdoms all around us, may it not Popery and Ambition are become tame and quiet
in time reach a king out to us too?" If the power-
If the power-neighbours?" In this I can give him no satisfac-
ful hand he means be that of France, it may reach tion, because I never was in that street where they
out as many kings as it pleases, but we will not ac- live; nor do I converse with any of their friends,
cept them. Whence does this man get his intelli- only I find they are persons of a very evil reputation,
VOL. I.
But "the duke of Savoy did, some years ago, put
in his claim to the crown of England in right of his
wife; and he is a prince of great capacity, in strict
alliance with France, and may therefore very well
add to our fears of a popish successor." Is it the
fault of the present, or of any ministry, that this
prince put in his claim? Must we give him opium
to destroy his capacity? or can we prevent his alli-
ance with any prince who is in peace with her ma-
jesty? Must we send to stab or poison all the
popish princes who have any pretended title to our
crown by the proximity of blood? What, in the
name of God, can these people drive at? what is it
they demand? Suppose the present dauphin were
they demand?
now a man, and the king of France, and next popish
heir to the crown of England; is he not excluded
by the laws of the land? But what regard will he
have to our laws? I answer, has not the queen as
good a title to the crown of France? and how is she
excluded, but by their law against the succession of
females, which we are not bound to acknowledge :
and is it not in our power to exclude female succes-
sors as well as in theirs? If such a pretence shall
prove the cause of a war, what human power can
prevent it? But our cause must necessarily be good
and righteous; for either the kings of England have
been unjustly kept out of the possession of France,
or the dauphin, although nearest of kin, can have no
legal title to England. And he must be an ill prince
indeed, who will not have the hearts and hands of
ninety-nine in a hundred among his subjects against
such a popish pretender.
2 D
402
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
But I am told for certain that Ambition had re-
moved her lodging, and lives the very next door to
Faction, where they keep such a racket that the
whole parish is disturbed and every night in an
uproar.
This much in answer to those eight uneasy ques-
tions put by the author to himself, in order to satisfy
every Briton, and give him an occasion of "taking
an impartial view of the affairs of Europe in general,
as well as of Great Britain in particular.”
After enumerating the great actions of the con-
federate armies under the command of prince Eugene
and the duke of Marlborough, Mr. Steele observes,
in the bitterness of his soul, that the British "ge-
neral, however unaccountable it may be to posterity,
was not permitted to enjoy the fruits of his glorious
labour." Ten years' fruits, it seems, were not suf-
ficient, and yet they were the fruitfullest campaigns
that ever any general cropped. However, I cannot
but hope that posterity will not be left in the dark,
but some care taken both of her majesty's glory and
the reputation of those she employs. An impartial
historian may tell the world (and the next age will
casily believe what it continues to feel) that the
avarice and ambition of a few factious insolent sub-
jects had almost destroyed their country by con-
tinuing a ruinous war in conjunction with allies for
whose sake principally we fought, who refused to
bear their just proportion of their charge, and were
connived at in their refusal for private ends; that
these factious people treated the best and kindest of
sovereigns with insolence, cruelty, and ingratitude,
of which he will be able to produce several instances;
that they encouraged persons and principles alien
from our religion and government, in order to
strengthen their faction; he will tell the reasons
why the general and first minister were seduced to
be heads of this faction, contrary to the opinions
they had always professed. Such an historian will
show many reasons which made it necessary to re-
move the general and his friends, who, knowing the
bent of the nation was against them, expected to
lose their power when the war was at an end. Par-
ticularly the historian will discover the whole in-
trigue of the duke of Marlborough's endeavouring
to procure a commission to be general for life;
wherein justice will be done to a person at that
time of high station in the law, who (I mention it
to his honour) advised the duke, when he was con-
sulted upon it, not to accept of such a commission.
By these and many other instances which time will
bring to light, it may perhaps appear not very un-
accountable to posterity why this great man was
dismissed at last, but rather why he was dismissed
no sooner.
But this is entering into a wide field. I shall
therefore leave posterity to the information of better
historians than the author of the Crisis or myself,
and go on to inform the present age in some facts
which the great orator and politician thinks fit to mis-
represent, with the utmost degree either of natural
or wilful ignorance. He asserts that in the duke of
Ormond's campaign, "after a suspension of arms
between Great Britain and France, proclaimed at
the head of the armies, the British troops, in the
midst of the enemy's garrisons, withdrew themselves
from their confederates." The fact is directly other-
wise; for the British troops were most infamously
deserted by the confederates, after all that could be
urged by the duke of Ormond and the earl of Straf-
ford to press the confederate generals not to forsake
them. The duke was directed to avoid engaging in
any action until he had further orders, because an
account of the king of Spain s renunciation was
every day expected; this the Imperialists and the
Dutch knew well enough, and therefore proposed to
the duke, in that very juncture, to engage the French,
for no other reason but to render desperate all the
queen's measures toward a peace.
Was not the cer-
tain possession of Dunkirk of equal advantage to the
uncertainty of a battle?
uncertainty of a battle? A whole campaign under
the duke of Marlborough, with such an acquisition,
although at the cost of many thousand lives and
several millions of money, would have been thought
very gloriously ended.
Neither after all was it a new thing, either in the
British general or the Dutch deputies, to refuse
fighting when they did not approve of it. When the
duke of Marlborough was going to invest Bouchain,
the deputies of the States pressed him in vain to en-
gage the enemy; and one of them was so far dis-
contented upon his grace's refusal that he presently
became a partisan of the peace; yet I do not re-
member any clamour then raised here against the
duke upon that account. Again, when the French
invaded Douay, after the confederates had deserted
the duke of Ormond, prince Eugene was violently
bent upon a battle, and said they should never have
another so good an opportunity; but Monsieur
a private deputy, rose up, and opposed it so
far that the prince was forced to desist. Was it then
more criminal in the duke of Ormond to refuse
fighting by express command of the queen, and in
order to get possession of Dunkirk, than for the
duke of Marlborough to give the same refusal with-
out any such orders or any such advantage? or shail
a Dutch deputy assume more power than the queen
of Great Britain's general, acting by the immediate
commands of his sovereign?
2
The emperor and the empire (says Mr. Steele by
way of admiration) continue the war! Is his im-
perial majesty able to continue it or not? If he be,
then Great Britain has been strangely used for ten
years past; then how came it to pass that of about
ten thousand men in his service in Italy at the time
of the battle of Turin, there were not above four
thousand paid by himself? If he be not able to
continue it, why does he go on? The reasons are
clear; because the war only affects the princes of
the empire, whom he is willing enough to expose,
but not his own dominions. Besides, his imperial
ministers are in daily expectation of the queen's
death, which they hope will give a new turn to af-
fairs, and rekindle the war in Europe upon the old
foot and we know how the ministers of that court
;
publicly assign it for a reason of their obstinacy
against peace that they hope for a sudden revolution
in England. In the mean time, this appearance of
the emperor's being forsaken by his ally will serve
to increase the clamour, both here and in Holland,
against her majesty and those she employs.
Mr. Steele says there can be no crime in affirm-
ing (if it be truth) that the house of Bourbon is
at this juncture become more formidable, and bids
fairer for a universal monarchy, and to engross the
whole trade of Europe, than it did before the war.
No crime in affirming it if it be truth. I will for
once allow his proposition. But if it be false, then
I affirm that whoever advances so seditious a false-
hood deserves to be hanged. Does he mean, by the
house of Bourbon, the two kings of France and
Spain? If so, I reject his meaning, which would
insinuate that the interests and designs of both
those princes will be the same; whereas they are
more opposite than those of any two other monarchs
in Christendom. This is the whole foolish slander
so frequently flung upon the peace, and as frequently
refuted. These factious undertakers of the press
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
403
write with great advantage; they strenuously affirm
a thousand falsehoods, without fear, wit, conscience,
or knowledge; and we who answer them must be
at the expense of an argument for each; after which,
in the very next pamphlet, we see the same asser-
tions produced again, without the least notice of
what has been said to disprove them. By the house
of Bourbon does he mean only the French king for
the time being? If so, and his assertion be true,
then that prince must deal with the devil, or else
the money and blood spent in our ten years' victories
against him might as well have continued in the
purses and veins of her majesty's subjects.
But the particular assertions of this author are
easier detected than his general ones; I shall there-
fore proceed upon examining the former. For in-
stance: I desire him to ask the Dutch, who can best
inform him, why they delivered up Traerbach to
the Imperialists? for as to the queen, her majesty
was never once consulted in it, whatever his pre-
ceptors, the politicians of Button's coffeehouse, may
have informed him to the contrary.
Mr. Steele affirms that the French have begun
the demolition of Dunkirk contemptuously and ar-
bitrarily their own way. The governor of the town,
and those gentlemen intrusted with the inspection
of this work, do assure me that the fact is altogether
otherwise; that the method prescribed by those
whom her majesty employs has been exactly fol-
lowed, and that the works are already demolished.
I will venture to tell him further that the demo-
lition was so long deferred in order to remove those
difficulties which the barrier treaty has put us under;
and the event has shown that it was prudent to pro-
ceed no faster until those difficulties were got over.
The mole and harbour could not be destroyed until
the ships were got out; which, by reason of some
profound secrets of state, did not happen until the
other day. Who gave him those just suspicions,
that the mole and harbour will never be destroyed?
What is it he would now insinuate? that the mi-
nistry is bribed to leave the most important part of
the work undone; or that the pretender is to invade
us from thence; or that the queen has entered into
a conspiracy with her servants to prevent the good
effects of the peace, for no other end but to lose the
affections of her people, and endanger herself?
Instead of any further information, which I could
easily give, but which no honest man can want, I
venture to affirm that the mole and harbour of Dun-
kirk will in a short time be most effectually destroyed;
and at the same time I venture to prophesy that nei-
ther Mr. Steele nor his faction will ever confess they
believe it.
After all, it is a little hard that the queen cannot
be allowed to demolish this town in whatever man-
ner she pleases to fancy. Mr. Steele must have it
done in his own way, and is angry the French have
pretended to do it in theirs; and yet he wrongs them
into the bargain. For my own part, I do seriously
think the most christian king to be a much better
friend of her majesty's than Mr. Stecle or any of his
faction. Besides, it is to be considered that he is a
monarch and a relation; and therefore, if I were a
privy counsellor, and my advice to be asked which
of those two gentlemen born should have the direc-
tion in the demolition of Dunkirk, I will give it for
the former; because I look upon Mr. Steele, in
Mr. Steele, in
quality of a member of his party, to be much more
skilful in demolishing at home than abroad.
There is a prospect of more danger to the balance
of Europe, and to the trade of Britain, from the em-
peror overrunning Italy than from France overrun-
ning the empire. That his imperial majesty enter-
|
tains such thoughts is visible to the world; and al-
though little can be said to justify many actions of
the French king, yet the worst of them have never
equalled the emperor's arbitrary keeping the posses-
sion of Milan, directly contrary to his oath, and to
the express words of the golden bull, which oblige
him to deliver up every fief that falls, or else they
must all, in the course of time, lapse into his own
hands.
I was at a loss who it was that Mr. Steele hinted
at some time ago by "the powerful hand that deals
I now
out crowns and kingdoms all around us."
plainly find he meant no other hand but his own.
He has dealt out the crown of Spain to France; to
France he has given leave to invade the empire next
spring, with two hundred thousand men; and now
at last he deals to France the imperial dignity; and
so farewell liberty; Europe will be French.
in order to bring all this about, the capital of Austria,
the residence of his imperial majesty, must continue
to be visited by the plague, of which the emperor
must die, and so the thing is done.
But
Why should not I venture to deal out one sceptre
in my turn as well as Mr. Steele? I therefore deal
out the empire to the elector of Saxony, upon failure
of issue to this emperor at his death, provided the
Whigs will prevail on the son to turn papist to get
an empire, as they did upon the father to get a
kingdom. Or, if this prince be not approved of, I
deal it out in his stead to the elector of Bavaria ;
and in one or the other of these I dare engage to
have all Christendom to second me, whatever the
spleen, in the shape of politics, may dictate to the
author of the Crisis.
The design of Mr. Steele in representing the cir-
cumstances of the affairs of Europe is to signify
to the world that all Europe is put in the high
road to slavery by the corruption of her majesty's
present ministers; and so he goes on to Portugal,
which, having during the war supplied us with
gold in exchange for our woollen manufacture, has
only at present a suspension of arms for its pro-
tection, to last no longer than till the Catalonians
are reduced, and then the old pretensions of Spain
to Portugal will be revived
to Portugal will be revived; and Portugal, when
once enslaved by Spain, falls naturally, with the rest
of Europe, into the gulf of France.
In the mean
time, let us see what relief a little truth can give this
unhappy kingdom. That Portugal has yet no more
than a suspension of arms, they may thank them-
selves, because they came so late into the treaty;
and that they came so late they may thank the
Whigs, whose false representations they were so
weak as to believe. However, the queen has volun-
tarily given them a guarantee to defend them against
Spain until the peace shall be made; and such terms
after the peace are stipulated for them as the Por-
tuguese themselves are contented with.
Having mentioned the Catalonians, he puts the
question, "Who can name the Catalonians without
a tear?" That can I; for he has told so many
melancholy stories without one syllable of truth, that
he has blunted the edge of my fears, and I shall not
be startled at the worst he can say. What he affirms
concerning the Catalonians is included in the follow-
ing particulars: First, that they were drawn into the
war by the encouragement of the maritime powers;
by which are understood England and Holland: but
he is too good a friend of the Dutch to give them
any part of the blame. Secondly, that they are now
abandoned, and exposed to the resentment of an
enraged prince. Thirdly, that they always opposed
the person and interest of that prince, who is their
present king. Lastly, that the doom is dreadful of
2D 2
404
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
those who shall in the sight of God be esteemed
their destroyers. And if we interpret the insinua-
tion he makes according to his own mind, the de-
struction of those people must be imputed to the
present ministry.
believe the author, because it is what he must needs
be utterly ignorant of, and therefore may possibly
be true.
I thought indeed we should be safe from all po-
pish successors as far as Italy, because of the prodi-
gious clutter about sending the pretender thither.
But they will never agree where to fix their longi-
tude. The duke of Savoy is the more dangerous for
too far off, and the chevalier St. George for being
too near. So whether France conquer Germany or
be in peace and good understanding with it, either
event will put us and Holland at the mercy of
France, which has a quiver full of pretenders at its
back, whenever the chevalier shall die.
This was just the logic of poor Prince Butler, a
splenetic madman whom everybody may remember
about the town. Prince Pamphilio in Italy em-
ployed emissaries to torment Prince Butler here.
But what if prince Pamphilio die? Why then he
had left in his will that his heirs and executors tor-
ment Prince Butler for ever.
I am sometimes in charity disposed to hope that
this writer is not always sensible of the flagrant
falsehoods he utters, but is either biassed by an
inclination to believe the worst, or a want of judg-removing to Sicily: he adds to our fears for being
ment to choose his informers. That the Catalonians
were drawn into the war by the encouragement of
her majesty should not in decency have been
affirmed until about fifty years hence, when it might
be supposed there would be no living witness left to
disprove it. It was only upon the assurances of a
revolt given by the prince of Hesse and others, and
their invitation, that the queen was prevailed with
to send her forces upon that expedition. When
Barcelona was taken by a most unexpected accident
of a bomb lighting on the magazine, then indeed the
Catalonians revolted, having before submitted and
sworn allegiance to Philip as much as any other
province of Spain. Upon the peace between that
crown and Britain, the queen, in order to case the
emperor and save his troops, stipulated with king
Philip for a neutrality in Italy, and that his imperial
majesty should have liberty to evacuate Catalonia,
upon condition of absolute indemnity of the Cata-
lans, with an entire restitution to their honours,
dignities, and estates. As this neutrality was never
observed by the emperor, so he never effectually
evacuated Catalonia; for although he sent away the
main body, he left behind many officers and private
men, who now spirit up and assist those obstinate
people to continue in their rebellion. It is true,
indeed, that king Philip did not absolutely restore
the Catalans to all their old privileges, of which
they never made other use than as an encourage-
ment to rebel; but admitted them to the same pri-
vileges with his subjects of Castile, particularly to
the liberty of trading, and having employments in
the West Indies, which they never enjoyed before.
Besides, the queen reserved to herself the power of
procuring further immunities for them, wherein the
most christian king was obliged to second her; for
his catholic majesty intended no more than to re-
trench those privileges under the pretext of which
they now rebel, as they had formerly done in favour
of France. How dreadful then must be the doom
of those who hindered these people from submitting
to the gentle terms offered them by their prince!
and who, although they be conscious of their own
inability to furnish one single ship for the support of
the Catalans, are at this instant spurring them on to
their ruin by promises of aid and protection!
Thus much in answer to Mr. Steele's account of
the affairs of Europe, from which he deduces the
universal monarchy of France, and the danger of I
know not how many popish successors to Britain.
His political reflections are as good as his facts.
"We must observe," says he, "that the person who
seems to be the most favoured by the French king
in the late treaties is the duke of Savoy." Ex-
tremely right for whatever that prince got by the
peace he owes entirely to her majesty, as a just re-
ward for his having been so firm and useful an ally;
neither was France brought with more difficulty to
yield any one point than that of allowing the duke
such a barrier as the queen insisted on.
"He is become the most powerful prince in
Italy." I had rather see him so than the emperor.
"He is supposed to have entered into a secret and
strict alliance with the house of Bourbon.” This
is one of those facts wherein I am most inclined to
I cannot think it a misfortune what Mr. Steele
affirms, "That treasonable books lately dispersed
among us, striking apparently at the Hanover
succession, have passed almost without observation
from the generality of the people;" because it seems
a certain sign that the generality of the people are
well disposed to that illustrious family; but I look
upon it as a great evil to see seditious books dis-
persed among us, apparently striking at the queen
and her administration, at the constitution in church
and state, and at all religion; yet passing without
observation from the generality of those in power:
but whether this remissness may be imputed to
Whitehall or Westminster-hall, is other men's busi-
ness to inquire. Mr. Steele knows in his con-
science that the queries concerning the pretender
issued from one of his own party. And as for the
poor nonjuring clergyman who was trusted with
committing to the press a late book on the subject
of hereditary right, by a strain of a summum jus, he
is now, as I am told, with half a score children,
starving and rotting among thieves and pickpockets
in the common room of a stinking jail. I have
never seen either the book or the publisher; how-
ever, I would fain ask one single person [Parker,
afterward lord-chancellor] in the world a question,
why he has so often drank the abdicated king's
health upon his knees?-But the transition is natu-
ral and frequent, and I shall not trouble him for an
answer.
It is the hardest case in the world that Mr. Steele
should take up the artificial reports of his own fac-
tion, and then put them off upon the world as addi-
tional fears of a popish successor. I can assure him
that no good subject of the queen's is under the
least concern whether the pretender be converted
or not, further than their wishes that all men would
embrace the true religion. But reporting backward
and forward upon this point helps to keep up the
noise, and is a topic for Mr. Steele to enlarge him-
self upon, by showing how little we can depend
upon such conversions, by collecting a list of popish
cruclties, and repeating, after himself and the bishop
of Sarum, the dismal effects likely to follow upon
the return of that superstition among us.
But as this writer is reported by those who know
him to be what the French call journalier, his fear
and courage operating according to the weather in
our uncertain climate, I am apt to believe the two
last pages of his Crisis were written on a sunshiny
day. This I guess from the general tenor of them,
and particularly from an unwary assertion, which if
THE PUBLIC SPIRIT OF THE WHIGS.
405
he believes as firmly as I do, will at once overthrow
all his foreign and domestic fears of a popish suc-
cessor. "As divided a people as we are, those who
stand for the house of Hanover are infinitely superior
in number, wealth, courage, and all arts, military
and civil, to those in the contrary interest; beside
which, we have the laws, I say, the laws on our
side. The laws, I say, the laws." This elegant
repetition is I think a little out of place; for the
stress might better have been laid upon so great a
majority of the nation; without which I doubt the
laws would be of little weight, although they be very
good additional securities. And if what he here
asserts be true, as it certainly is although he assert
it (for I allow even the majority of his own party to
be against the pretender), there can be no danger of
a popish successor, except from the unreasonable
jealousies of the best among that party, and from
the malice, the avarice, or ambition of the worst;
without which, Britain would be able to defend her
succession against all her enemies both at home and
abroad. Most of the dangers from abroad, which
he enumerates as the consequences of this very bad
peace made by the queen and approved by parlia-
ment, must have subsisted under any peace at all;
unless, among other projects equally feasible, we
could have stipulated to cut the throats of every
popish relation to the royal family.
Well, by this author's own confession, a number
infinitely superior, and the best circumstantiated
imaginable, are for the succession in the house of
Hanover. This succession is established, confirmed,
and secured by several laws; her majesty's repeated
declarations, and the oaths of all her subjects, en-
gage both her and them to preserve what those laws
have settled. This is a security indeed, a security
adequate at least to the importance of the thing;
and yet, according to the Whig scheme, as delivered
to us by Mr. Steele and his coadjutors, is altogether
insufficient; and the succession will be defeated,
the pretender brought in, and popery established
among us, without the further assistance of this
writer and his faction.
And what securities have our adversaries substi-
tuted in the place of these? A club of politicians
A club of politicians
where Jenny Man presides; a Crisis written by Mr.
Steele; a confederacy of knavish stock-jobbers to
ruin credit; a report of the queen's death; an effi-
gies of the pretender run twice through the body by
a valiant peer; a speech by the author of the Crisis;
and, to sum up all, an unlimited freedom of reviling
her majesty and those she employs.
He
kirk. He reflects with great satisfaction on the
good already done to his country by the Crisis.
Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, &c. He gives us
hopes that he will leave off writing, and consult his
own quiet and happiness; and concludes with a
letter to a friend at court.
I suppose, by the style
of "old friend," and the like, it must be somebody
there of his own level; among whom his party have
indeed more friends than I could wish. In this
letter he asserts that the present ministers were not
educated in the church of England, but are new
converts from presbytery. Upon which I can only
reflect how blind the malice of that man must be
who invents a groundless lie in order to defame his
superiors, which would be no disgrace if it had been
a truth. And he concludes with making three de-
mands for the satisfaction of himself and other male-
contents. First, the demolition of the harbour of
Dunkirk. Secondly, that Great Britain and France
would heartily join against the exorbitant power of
the duke of Lorraine, and force the pretender from
his asylum at Bar le Duc. Lastly, "that his
electoral highness of Hanover would be so grateful
to signify to all the world the perfect good under-
standing he has with the court of England, in as
plain terms as her majesty was pleased to declare
she had with that house on her part."
As to the first of these demands, I will venture to
undertake it shall be granted; but then Mr. Steele
and his brother malecontents must promise to be-
lieve the thing is done, after those employed have
made their report, or else bring vouchers to disprove
it. Upon the second; I cannot tell whether her
Lorraine, to force him to remove the pretender; but
majesty will engage in a war against the duke of
I believe, if the parliament should think it necessary
to address upon such an occasion, the queen would
move that prince to send him away. His last de-
mand, offered under the title of a wish, is of so
insolent and seditious a strain, that I care not to
touch it. Here he directly charges her majesty with
delivering a falsehood to her parliament from the
throne; and declares he will not believe her, until
the elector of Hanover himself shall vouch for the
truth of what she has so solemnly affirmed.
I agree with this writer that it is an idle thing in
his antagonists to trouble themselves upon the arti-
cles of his birth, education, or fortune; for whoever
writes at this rate of his sovereign, to whom he
inquire whether he be a gentleman born, but whether
owes so many personal obligations, I should never
he be a human creature.
A LETTER
FROM THE
THE VENERABLE NESTOR IRONSIDE.
With an account of the reception Mr. Ironside's late present
of a Guardian met with from the Worshipful Mr. Mayor,
and other substantial inhabitants of that ancient city.
To which is added,
I have now finished the most disgustful task that
ever I undertook. I could with more ease have
written three dull pamphlets than remarked upon
the falsehoods and absurdities of one.
But I was
quite confounded last Wednesday when the printer
came with another pamphlet in his hand, written by FACETIOUS DOCTOR ANDREW TRIPE, AT BATH, TO
the same author, and entitled "The Englishman,
being the Close of the Paper so called," &c.
desired I would read it over, and consider it in a pa-
per by itself; which last I absolutely refused. Upon
perusal, I found it chiefly an invective against Toby,
the ministry, the Examiner, the clergy, the queen, and
the Postboy; yet, at the same time, with great jus-
tice exclaiming against those who presumed to offer
the least word against the heads of that faction
whom her majesty discarded. The author likewise
proposes an equal division of favour and employ-
ments between the Whigs and Tories; for if the
former "can
can have no part or portion in David, they
desire no longer to be his subjects." He insists
that her majesty has exactly followed Monsieur
Tugghe's memorial against the demolishing of Dun-
A PRESCRIPTION FROM THE DOCTOR, BY WAY OF
POSTSCRIPT, EXACTLY SUITED TO HIS DISTEMPER.
The adventure of the bear and fiddle
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.-HUD.
Parte tamen meliore mei super alta perennis
Astra ferar; nomenque erit indelibi nostrum.- Ovin
THIS amusing letter, nows printed from a copy (dated 1714)
in the British Museum, is noticed by Scott in his edition as
having internal marks of Swift's corrections, though chiefly
written by one of those subordinate party authors whom he
calls "his under spur-leathers." The style, however, has the
406
A LETTER FROM DOCTOR TRIPE
closest resemblance to Swift's; the wit and ridicule partake of
his best manner; and from the circumstance of the dean's
known dislike and contempt of Steele, it is much more probable
to have been entirely his own than the production of Arbuthnot,
who had not the same reasons for thus exposing Steele, or
that of any of Swift's understrappers, unless we suppose them
to have had “wit at will” not inferior to their master's.
RIGHT VENERABLE, That aggregate philosopher,
Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff, of most memorable counte-
nance, does, I remember, in several of his moral
aphorisms make very honourable mention of himself
for such of his essays as were levelled at the general
benefit of mankind; and upon this head does fairly
give himself the preference to all the learned, his
contemporaries, from Dr. Swift himself, even down
to Poet Cr-spe of the custom-house.
This, with due respect to his memory, savours
somewhat more of self-love than could be well ex-
pected from so unbiassed a philosopher: for I can
see no reason, nor do I believe he himself could,
why the elaborate productions of those who sweat
hard to rescue the laudable actions of the town or
corporation, where they either were born, or of
which they were inhabitants, from the jaws of ob-
livion, and transmit them with decency to posterity,
should not deserve at least an equal encomium.
a necessary or a sufficient warrant for his so doing.
learning and maturity of thought that could be ex-
While the point was discussed with that solidity of
pected from a company of such bright men,
especially upon so ticklish a subject, who should
coine in but Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff, intelligencer-
violent panting for breath they soon perceived that
general of the town, by whose earnest looks and
he was big with some occurrence of moment, of
which he wanted to be immediately delivered."
But, before I proceed any further in this great
undertaking, I find myself obliged, most learned
sage, by the rules of method to make a small digres-
sion in order to give you a cursory description of the
person, parts, and profession of Mr. Isaac Bicker-
staff, because I conceive it to be a preliminary
absolutely requisite towards the right understanding
of this great history, and because, without such di-
gression (according to agreement with my book-
seller), this my letter would not make so consider-
able a figure as to reach the price of sixpence, which
however, as it is inter nos, I desire may remain a
secret between me and my reader.
Mr. Isaac, you must know, sir, is much about your
own age and size, and, if I may credit those who pre-
tend to know you, not unlike you in the face. He is
Upon this consideration I have, with unwearied
of a saturnine complexion, not without some visible
application, and no small expense in coffee and indications of suffering much by the obstructions in
tobacco, perused all the neotegraphical tracts, as the hippocondria, from whence heavy and caliginous
well foreign as domestic, lately published by those fumes, continually ascending to the region of his
painful and accurate penmen, the news-writers, as head, do powerfully invade the territory of his brain,
the vulgar term them, that I might thoroughly where, meeting with little resistance, through the
inform myself what account they gave the world of too much natural imbecility of the part, they make a
the magnificent reception which the inhabitants of most sad havoc in the glandula pinealis. This
this ancient and noble city of Bath gave to the in- renders him anxious all the while he is awake, dis-
valuable present which you did them the honour
turbs him when asleep, and makes him dream of
lately to make them; and see whether they handled nothing else but chains, galleys, gibbets, rawheads,
so important a point with that nicety of truth and and bloody-bones, by the terrifying relation of
majesty of style that the history of so solemn a which, he often frightens many of the children of her
ceremony required. But, to my great astonishment majesty's good subjects from their bread and butter.
|
and much greater concern, I found them all (to
their discredit be it spoken) as silent upon the
matter as if such a thing had never been in rerum
natura; or at least had happened in the dark days
of popery and ignorance.
Tis true, it is hard to condemn so numerous and
so eminent a body of learned men, in some whereof
'tis possible it might be unpremeditated omission;
but in others, especially those of our own island, I
cannot forbear thinking it was downright spleen
and envy and (God forgive me) I have a strong
suspicion that my very good friend, the indefatiga-
ble and judicious Mr. Abel, whom I look upon to be
the president of all the hebdomadal writers of this
century, has a great deal to answer on this head. In
love therefore to the town of Bath, to which I have
the honour of being physician in ordinary, and out
of my most profound respect, sir, for your venerable
person, (whose unparalleled bounty I would gladly
see perpetuated to all succeeding ages,) I have
diligently consulted our public records, and with
utmost fidelity transcribed from them the following
copy:-
12 Reginæ
Regist. "Some time about the end of October,
Ann. Anno 12 Reginæ Annæ, as Mr. Mayor, Mr.
Anna, Recorder, the facetious Dr. Andrew Tripe
fol. 36. (meaning your most humble servant), Mr.
Lenitive the apothecary, and several other worthy
citizens, were one afternoon at the coffeehouse,
gravely discoursing of politics, and were insensibly
fallen into a polemical argument upon this intricate
and important question, whether, in case the pope of
Rome should have a fancy to alter his state, and take
unto him a wife, an act of parliament would be either
He has naturally a downcast foreboding aspect,
which they of the country hereabouts call a hanging
look, and an unseemly manner of staring, with his
mouth wide open, and under-lip propending, espe-
cially when anyways disturbed; which is a vehement
diagnosis that there is a great relaxation in the optic
nerves, by which their communication with the pia
mater is become inactive, and the poignancy of the
intellects rendered obtuse.
He takes a great deal of pains to persuade his
neighbours that he has a very short face, and a little
flat nose, like a diminutive wart, in the middle of
his visage, because he was told once by a Dutch
fortune-teller, that high hooked noses were very
ominous, and denoted cowardice, whereas that other
symmetry was an infallible indication of choler pre-
dominant, which he hopes may occasionally supply
his natural want of courage.
His eyes are large and prominent, too big of all
conscience for the conceited narrowness of his phiz,
and have been for some years very subject to an in-
firmity which we doctors call the gutta-serena; and
though he has been often told of the wonderful curcs
lately performed by the famous ophthalmist Dr.
Henrick all over the kingdom, he will not be per-
suaded to make use of him, but calls him quack, at
the same time that he knows full well that the
worthy doctor is allowed by the college to practise,
after a most rigorous examination.
His back, though not very broad, is well turned,
and will bear a great deal; I have seen him myself
more than once carry a vast load of timber. His
legs also are tolerably substantial, and can stride
very wide upon occasion; but the best thing about
TO NESTOR IRONSIDE.
407
him is a handsome pair of heels, which he takes
especial pride to show, not only to his friends, but
even to the very worst of his enemies.
published upon the liberty and property of the three
great contending
great contending rivals, wnO, THAT, and WHICH,
[Spectator, Nos. 78-80,] and the entertaining dia-
As to his parts, he sets up for a virtuoso, a phi-logues betwixt the Watchman and his Goose, this
losopher, and what not! And does not only believe
it himself, but has persuaded others too, that he has
a monstrous wit. One day he gave bills about for
folks to come and see it, but unadvisedly demanding
twopence a-piece he was hissed and hooted at in a
most unbecoming manner. This made him after-
wards be somewhat cautious how he ventured
abroad with it; and it is observed that almost
ever since all his discourses have been gravely dull,
without the least larding of wit.
Notwithstanding this, men of as profound parts
as himself do really allow that he has not only a
genius naturally adapted to schemes and projects, but
was actually the first inventor of certain surprising
paper machines, which by only looking upon them
make people almost as wise as they were before, to
the great wonder and satisfaction of all the behold-
ers. It was he also that first discovered that the
chin of man was a musical instrument, and taught
boys how to play upon it; a harmony indeed al-
together unknown to antiquity. And I am credibly
informed that he has now almost brought to perfec-
tion a system for fixing the moveable feasts, after
so wonderful a manner, that, from this present year
one thousand seven hundred and thirteen, to the
year seventeen thousand and twenty-four inclusive,
Easter-day may always fall on a Sunday; which
must needs be of vast use towards reconciling the ill-
natured difference so long maintained betwixt the
Julian and Gregorian account.
He has moreover an exquisite faculty in finding
out the harmony of monosyllables, by the help of
which he can easily muster upon occasion a power
of pretty sounding words signifying nothing. This
he calls his art of lerology, that is, of saying a great
deal to little purpose, and designs it for a perpetual
fund to pay his debts with.
It is reported by some that he has attained the
menstruum of Hermes, and can make the basest of
Dutch coin pass for true sterling. Others will have
it that he dreams with his eyes open; can dissolve
ice by the help of fire, and tell boys by looking in
their faces if their noses stand awry; for which he
has been reputed a necromancer. But his master-
talent lies in picking up and retailing of threadbare
stories; and it is to his wonderful sagacity herein
that we of this town owe the first hints of the death
of that worshipful knight sir Roger de Coverly. But
there is a dreadful misfortune attends him, that, as
he seldom speaks truth, so he is seldom or never be-
lieved and as he not only will invent most
unmerciful relations of matters here and there
transacted, so he has another property, that for the
heart's blood of him he cannot tell a story as it is
told him, but let it be never so often repeated will
be sure to endeavour to adorn it with his own
flourishes, and the gentle reader is often dis-
appointed when he thinks himself sure of knowing
something; which, whether it proceeds from any
lesion or defect in the cerebellum, from a natural
dulness of apprehension, or a deceptio visus of his
memory, will appear one of these days, when his
brains come, after a decent execution, to be dis-
sected at Surgeons' Hall.
Although some invidious persons have endea-
voured by oblique hints to suggest that he is no
scholar, it is a most malicious insinuation;
for to
my own knowledge he went sometimes to school
when he was a boy; and I can solemnly affirm that,
besides a curious dissertation which he has lately
very individual Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff has actually
in the press a most elaborate treatise, which must
needs be of inconceivable emolument to such of the
inhabitants of this island as can neither read nor
write; of which, I am told, the generality of his
subscribers consist. In this learned piece 'tis said
he has demonstrated almost mathematically with
what brightness and vivacity he can abstract acts of
parliament; and that to the no little mortification of
some nocturnal pains-takers about the Temple he
has made as great a proficiency in the law as ever he
did in physic or divinity, or any other art or
science.
His elocution is not what ought to be least ad-
mired; and bating that he is very apt sometimes to
mistake one thing for another, I know no man alive
will talk more of matters altogether beyond his
reach, which I take to proceed from hence, that
having had his first education in a coffeehouse, where
such bright men as you and I did usually resort, and
heard them frequently discourse of the interest of
| England, balance of Europe, exorbitant growth of
France, danger of popery, prerogative of the crown,
rights of the people, power of parliament, Magna
Charta, religion, liberty, property, commerce, navi-
gation, and the like, he was so charmed with the
sound, that, without troubling his head in the least
about the true meaning of those terms, he got a rea-
sonable quantity by heart, which he repeats at ran-
dom in all company; and has in a great measure
persuaded himself into a belief that his being so
often in the room where these gentlemen used to
talk is reason enough for him to understand the mat-
ter as well as they did, like Bessus the centurion,
of whom a certain author of great antiquity writes
that he fancied himself to be immeasurably valiant,
because he happened once to march with an army of
fifty thousand gallant Lacedæmonians; or that other
extraordinary person, I think his name was Rhodo-
montadoides, mentioned somewhere by Strabo, who
having but a bare promise once of seeing the Roman
senate in a full house, it so tickled his fancy that he
already believed himself wise enough to prescribe
laws to the whole empire.
I must not undertake, O wise man, to inform you
exactly of what religion he is; for though he will
shake the parson of the parish familiarly by the
hand, make him a reverend bow as he passes by, and
follow him sometimes to the church; yet he declares
publicly that he cannot be reconciled to the church-
wardens for suffering the pulpit to stand too high,
or rather for suffering the pew to stand by the
pulpit.
Profaneness and immorality are what he cannot
justly be taxed with; for he has a discreet woman
to his wife, who keeps a very strict hand over him,
and by giving him now and then due and whole-
some correction makes him live within decent
bounds; for which, though he dares not mutter a
syllable within her hearing for fear of the strapado,
he rails most bitterly at petticoat government behind
her back; and says it is a burning shame that wo-
men should be suffered to have so great a sway when
there are so many good men in Germany.
One thing I had like to have forgot, and that is,
his most profound skill in the rules of motion, espe-
cially that branch of it that relates to dancing, which
he defines "an epitome of all human learning."
And I am told by an acquaintance of his that he
has now ready for the press several curious essays
408
A LETTER FROM DOCTOR TRIPE
:
upon the different parts of that truly noble and com-
prehensive science, wherein he proves by arguments,
physical, musical, and mathematical, that dancing is
not only the primum mobile of all arts and sciences,
but that the motion of the sun, moon, and other
celestial bodies, is but a sort of a Cheshire Round,
which they dance to the music of the spheres. And
moreover, that the principal seat of human souls,
especially those of the fair sex, is in the heels, of
which he gives this as an experimental demonstration,
that whenever you take a woman fast hold by them
it is ten to one but her soul is your own; besides
several other new and valuable discoveries, too many
to be inserted here, which I pass euphoniæ gratia to
come to his profession.
This was lately what in some sense might be
termed martial, for he was a serjeant in the militia,
and in a fair way of mounting in time to the dignity
of provost; but, having a natural aversion to that
French familiar way of hitting one another most un-
gentlemanlike blows, too frequent amongst military
men, he judiciously laid aside his halberd, and is now
saluted by the name of doctor.
I cannot omit inserting here that some have in-
dustriously spread a report that he formerly had got
his living, as his father had done before him, by sub-
verting and new-modelling the ancient constitution
of English beards in church and state; and was
what we vulgarly call a barber, from the Latin word
barba, which, according to some authors of note and
antiquity, signifies, you know, that portion of hair
that grows upon human faces. But I do bona fide
look upon this part of the story to be altogether
apocryphal.
As to his present circumstances, I can vouch for
him that he is above all such calumnies, and in a
fair way of soon having the whip-hand of all the
malignants that oppose him; for he has not only a
prospect of being beadle of his parish, if the church-
wardens will but approve of his election, but he
has already a magisterial recipe, with which he does
not doubt, if you believe his printed bills, to cure all
such of our countrymen as are troubled with the
heartburn and grumblings in the gizzard, provided
they will but religiously abstain from mentioning
the two fatal words Nantz and Bourdeaux, which,
with immense labour and study, he has lately dis-
covered to be impregnated with an occult quality
highly destructive to English commerce.
He extols to the very sky his new method of pre-
paring Steele-pills, with which he proposes in time
to open all the obstructed spleens of this nation.
This is also a narcotic and a nostrum; but his arca-
num magnum is his emplastrum pro nucha, which,
I am fully satisfied, is a specific catholicon for all
distempers, if rightly applied, and tied on secundum
artem under the left ear. This he has studied ex pro-
fesso for the present ease and relief of such of his
friends as are not very well in their minds; and I
hope they will find the benefit of it. It is a noble.
preparation of hemp-seed, which he holds to be that
true seed of the right female fern so mightily cried
up by modern philosophers.
All these great points thus duly premised, it is
not improbable but that in the frontispiece of a well-
bound book you may one of these days meet with
this great man's vera effigies, handsomely cut, and un-
derneath it his name, Isaacus Bickerstaffius, printed
at full length, with an anno ætat., &c., and the addi-
tional title of Medicus; which he may very well do
if what a modern critic of stupendous erudition ob-
serves in his annotations upon Horace be true, that
the words medicus and madicus were anciently
usurped by most of the Arabian writers to signify
the self-same thing, though of late days they are
quite of a different acceptation.
Having thus far, most venerable sage, trespassed
upon your patience, and given you succinctly such
items as were absolutely necessary, I think myself
obliged to acquaint you what opinion some persons
have conceived of you and of your late behaviour and
correspondence with the inimitable Mr. Isaac Bick
erstaff.
There are I can assure you who with confidence
have reported that your new acquaintance has de-
bauched your principles, and since his declaring him-
self of the profession, he has given you some be-
witching philter, by which he has gained an abso-
lute ascendant over your will and understanding,
and instilled such notions into you as are altogether
heterodox, antimonarchical, and unworthy of your
character. It has been spread abroad that, like sir
Sydrophel of old, he has persuaded you that the
clouds were enchanted castles filled with arms, am-
munition, magic spells, and sorcerers, and that with
squibs and crackers and stink-pots you have at-
tempted to demolish them. I wish I could recount
all the stories told concerning you; how many ridi-
culous pamphlets you have written, what pranks
you have played, what goods you have disposed of,
how many sorts of strong-waters you are used to
drink in twenty-four hours, and who has been forced
to pay the reckoning; what deliriums you have run
into; how you have asserted that every man in
England is accountable to you, and as the represent-
ative of the whole nation have drawn up memorials
concerning her majesty's maladministration, and in
the name of all her subjects demanded justice of her
against herself. One thing, sir, I more particularly
remember they said of you, and which is scarcely
possible to be believed, that you attempted to make
an Englishman of Teague. It is strange, says I to
some gentlemen who were talking after this manner,
how one man may be mistaken in another. I re-
member this old man; he was one of my patients;
but little did I think he was such a dangerous per-
son as you have represented him; he always ap-
peared to me a good-natured, sociable, facetious
gentleman; and indeed I took him for one of those
old wits who are naturally very costive, such as I
have often met with in the course of my practice;
for besides his being subject to a fistula and flux
of the hemorrhoids, the spincter of the anus was
broken with the immoderate use of suppositories.
A humorist he was indeed, 'tis true, and some-
what too tenacious of his own opinion, but, setting
that aside, I don't know I have met with a man of
late years whose conversation seemed to be more
entertaining and inoffensive; especially, says I, in
the back room at Button's.
I told them how you had seen king Harry, the
last of that name, in hanging-sleeves; of
your first
appearance in the commonwealth of learning about
March last; and how at these years you had conse-
crated your studies to the service of the ladies; in
short, sir, I concealed nothing that would tend to
your advantage, or take off the calumnies that I was
conscious were the inhospitable endeavours of wicked
men to blacken you; and I now must beg your leave
to proceed regularly, and to knot the thread of my
story where I broke it off in the beginning.
"Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff was scarcely seated when,
turning himself abruptly to the company, Gentle-
men, says he, this is a wonderful age we live in, and
a great many most surprising things are daily to be
met with in it, which escape the observation of us
that are learned, and yet are taken notice of by the
illiterate people of low life. Mr. Sly, the attorney,
TO NESTOR IRONSIDE.
409
is just arrived from London, and has put me in mind
of two most remarkable things, which, though I have
rid that way above a dozen times, I never reflected on
before. The one is that, by exact calculation, he
has found the road from London to Bath to be every
whit as long as that from Bath to London. The
other that, let the weather be never so uncertain,
the weathercock for the most part points to that
corner that the wind blows from.
"A third thing he likewise told me, and indeed
the most material of all, but I made such haste to
come and acquaint you with it, that I vow and pro-
fess I have quite forgotten what it was; and yet, if
my memory does not fail me, it was of the greatest
consequence to this city of Bath of any perhaps that
has happened since the Revolution. But, alas!
memoria hominis is but a leaky vessel; and it was
the saying of a very wise statesman, 'that it is but
bad walking in slippery weather.' However, it is
no small comfort to be able to recollect what is not
possible to be remembered. But it is not given to
all folks I find to be as wise as some, for this sub-
stantial reason, that the longer we live the older we
grow. In short, gentlemen, quod dixi, dixi; I told
you my author, hisce oculis audivi. You may ask
him; he is of age and an attorney, who would no
more tell an untruth than any one of his profession.
"The world, I hope, will allow that I am a learned
man and a wise man; and will always I believe lay
that stress upon my sayings as not to put any other
body's whatsoever in competition with them, with-
out the least detriment to characters or professions.
Besides, dato sed non concesso, that I have forgot it,
the most you can make on't is, that such extraordi-
nary wits as mine are generally attended with the
want of memory; for which, however, that of solid
judgment does always make ample atonement."
And now perhaps, sir, when this letter comes to
be printed it may be expected that I should make
good my promise in the title-page concerning the
reception of your present, and what answer the com-
pany returned to this more than common rhetorician.
Pardon me, O courteous reader, for already detain-
ing thee so long; it is better for both you and me
to be at rest, after we have travelled lovingly to-
gether for so many tedious pages. If I have time
and opportunity I may once more perhaps, to the
satisfaction of us both, uncase my spectacles to
peruse the records, which, according to the late
canto, may afford us
"Fit matter for another song.'
I am not, I am sensible, the first modern who has
fell short of his title-page; divers and sundry ex-
amples have I before my eyes of poets, critics, com-
mentators, philosophers, and politicians, who have
played the same game in all places and in all ages
of the world. Several precedents, most learned sage,
could I deduce out of your own works, and the lucu-
brations of Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff, of matters begun
but never ended, done and undone, to the surprise
of all your readers; of acts of parliament proved
unalterable by the same power that made them, in
an advertisement, and dropped because it was high
treason to assert it, upon the publication of The
Crisis.
Thus far, O wise man, with much labour and dili-
gence
have I brought this great work to the wished-
for conclusion, and by carefully comparing the coffee-
house oration with the original do find that it is re-
ligiously exact. Come I therefore to appeal to your
own learned self, whether the great Bickerstaff was
not too partial in ascribing such pre-eminence to those
speculations which he writ, filed, and polished at his
own leisure; whereas, the time which I employed
in gathering materials for this valuable performance
was stolen from the hours of my natural rest; after
having, for the good of my country, spent all the live-
long day, as the poets express themselves, in triviis,
et quadriviis, delivering my salutiferous instructions
to all comers and goers, and exposed to the rigour of
the seasons under the wide canopy of heaven. But
as I have this comfort, that I underwent this great
fatigue purely to rescue the city where I generally
reside from the imputation of ingratitude, which
otherwise it might be liable to; so I may, without
vanity, say, that I have, uno ictu, purchased to my-
self by it the veneration of the learned world, my
own private satisfaction, and the thanks of my
fellow-citizens; whose hearty acknowledgments
likewise, as well as my own, I return you, most an-
cient sage, for your desirable present. And, as I do
not question but you will, for the public good and
your own credit, be at the charges of reprinting this
authentic monument of your liberality, so I desire
there may be copies enough to furnish every family
in England with one. And because other nations
may also reap the benefit of your labours, I have not
only prevailed with my learned acquaintance, Mr.
Griffith Evans ap Rice, professor of the Cambrian
tongue at Oxford, to translate them into Welsh, but
have sent also copies of them into Ireland, to the
renowned antiquary Cormack O'Cuillinane, and to
old Gillaspick Mackentosh, chief chronographer of
the Highland clans of Scotland; from whom I have
lately received some curious memoirs, with which
I may perhaps one of these days oblige the common-
wealth of learning. And as I am well satisfied of
the place which I have gained in your most wise
esteem by this my vast undertaking, so I beg leave
to assure you that I shall be ready upon all occasions
to let the world know of your great merit, and how
much I am, learned, wise, and venerable sir, your
most humble and most devoted servant,
Bath, Nov. 16, 1713.
A. TRIPE, M.D.
P.S.-I had no sooner finished my letter, most
venerable sage, but, reflecting on the happiness which
we that are learned do now enjoy, by living in the
same age with you, I could not but be pleased to think
that when posterity shall peruse your learned pro-
ductions and inquire who were your contemporaries,
what a handsome mention will be made of myself,
upon the account of my correspondence with you.
This, as it could not but be a most sensible satisfac-
tion to me, so it naturally led me into the melan-
choly thought of what an irreparable loss the public
would sustain by the death of so valuable a person;
and remembering that I heard of your being lately
afflicted with a continual dizziness in your head and
a sudden dimness in your sight, I immediately writ
to my two worthy friends, sir William R-d, and
Cornelius a Tilb-rg, who, as they were formerly the
ornament of the stage itinerant, so now they are an
honour to the profession, and begged of them to send
me a full account of the causes, nature, rise, and
progress of your malady. They acquitted them-
selves herein with a great deal of generosity and
erudition; and from their learned observations I
immediately comprehended that the chief origin of
those chronical distempers proceeded from your im-
moderate feeding upon salads; not only such as were
picked and prepared by master-cooks, as Sidney and
Locke, but likewise those that were hastily dished
up by the unskilful Tutchin and Ridpath, &c., which,
creating too many crudities in the stomach, do con-
tinually transmit to the upper region a strange chaos
of black, heavy, and indigested vapours, that do not
410
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLies.
only overpower the innate imbecility of the brain,
but also obstruct the passages of the optic nerves,
from whence those stubborn affections of your head
and eyes do naturally follow.
Hereupon I zealously applied myself night and day
to consult the most valuable nostrums of all our cele-
brated oracles, and with joy and satisfaction have
excerpted from them a medicine of the greatest
virtue, which, in the name of the worshipful Mr.
Mayor and the rest of his brethren, I have sent you
by the carrier, in three gallipots, as a grateful return
for your late present.
This, by the natural antipathy of the ingredients,
will work powerfully upon the crudities, correct the
peccant humours, and you will soon find the power-
ful effects of it. It is a sudorific, diuretic, carminative,
and a soporific. It immediately puts all the humours
in a ferment, separates the good from the bad, attracts
to itself, by an occult sympathy, all the rebellious
particles, dissolves them in a trice, and scours all
before it like a scavenger. Take the quantity of a nut-
meg, horis medicis.
Outwardly, you must apply to the region of the
heart a plaster of the rubrum henrici, and wash your
eyes twice a-day with the ophthalmic water I pre-
scribed to you when at Bath.
But in case your distemper should prove so obsti-
nate as not to yield to these most sovereign remedies,
your last refuge must be a cataplasm of hemp, ap-
plied cravat-wise to your neck, which, though in its
operation it be somewhat violent, yet it is an infalli-
ble one, if rightly used, according to that celebrated
observation of one of our learned predecessors:
"This, with a jirk, will do your work, and cure you o'er and o'er ;
Read, judge, and try, and if you die, never believe me more.”
Let your diet be regular, and drink good wines
and of the best growth. But by all means you must
renounce Holland geneva and Brunswick mum; for
one corrupts your lungs and the other stupifies your
intellects.
ratory to the peace which the ministers were then concluding)
and the Remarks on the Barrier Treaty contain the principal
facts which the author of John Bull has thrown into allegory;
and greatly illustrate that piece, of which indeed it is possible
they were the groundwork.
The purpose of this pamphlet was, to persuade the nation
to a peace; and never had any writer more success. The
people, who had been amused with bonfires and triumphal
processions, and looked with idolatry on the general and his
friends, who, as they thought, had made England the arbitress
of nations, were confounded between shame and rage when
they found that "mines had been exhausted, and millions
destroyed," to secure the Dutch, or aggrandize the emperor,
without any advantage to ourselves; that we had been bribing
our neighbours to fight their own quarrel; and that amongst
our enemies we might number our allies. That is now no
longer doubted, of which the nation was then first informed, that
the war was unnecessarily protracted to fill the pockets of
Marlborough; and that it would have been continued without
end, if he could have continued his annual plunder. But
Swift, I suppose, did not yet know what he has since written,
that a commission was drawn which would have appointed
him general for life, had it not become ineffectual by the re-
solution of lord Cowper, who refused the scal.-JOHNSON.
The uncommon pains which were taken by Dr. Swift in
writing this pamphlet will appear by an attentive perusal of
his Journal to Stella, from Oct. 30 to Dec. 13 inclusive.
PREFACE.
I CANNOT sufficiently admire the industry of a sort
of men, wholly out of favour with the prince and
people, and openly professing a separate interest
from the bulk of the landed men, who yet are able
to raise at this juncture so great a clamour against
a peace, without offering one single reason but what
we find in their ballads. I lay it down for a maxim
that no reasonable man, whether Whig or Tory
(since it is necessary to use those foolish terms), can
be of opinion for continuing the war upon the foot-
ing it now is, unless he be a gainer by it, or hopes it
may occasion some new turn of affairs at home, to
the advantage of his party; or, lastly, unless he be
very ignorant of the kingdom's condition, and by
what means we have been reduced to it. Upon the
two first cases, where interest is concerned, I have
nothing to say; but as to the last, I think it highly
necessary that the public should be freely and
If you observe exactly the method of these pre-impartially told what circumstances they are in, after
scriptions, as I hope you will, I don't doubt but
that in a little time you will be generous enough to
acknowledge that our present is a match for your
own; and that, whatever advantage you may have
over us in years and learning, you have none in the
point of liberality.
Yours,
THE
UT SUPRA.
CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES;
AND OF THE LATE MINISTRY, IN BEGINNING AND
CARRYING ON THE WAR.
Partem tibi Gallia nostri
Eripuit Partem duris Hispania bellis:
Pars jacet Hesperia, totoque exercitus orbe
Te vincente perit.
Odimus accipitrem quia semper vivit in armis
Victrix Provincia plorat.
"THE Conduct of the Allies, "Remarks on the Barrier
Treaty," the Examiner," and the "Public Spirit of the
Whigs," all conspire to lay open the secret springs of affairs,
not only in England, but throughout Europe. The first of
them particularly will be the basis for all who write the history
of those times to build upon; as it detects the artifices of the
ministry, which the nation was at that time diverted from
attending to by a course of victories; and exposes the baldness
of our general, that ought not to be concealed by his laurels.
The author, being admitted to an intimacy with the new prime
minister, received, no doubt, assistance from so able a friend;
and he tells us he detained the publication of three several
editions of this piece, that he might have all the advantage he
could from his enemies. This tract (which was written prepa-
what manner they have been treated by those whom
they trusted so many years with the disposal of their
blood and treasure, and what the consequences of
this management are likely to be upon themselves
and their posterity.
Those who, either by writing or discourse, have
undertaken to defend the proceedings of the late
ministry in the management of the war, and of
the treaty at Gertruydenberg, have spent time in
celebrating the conduct and valour of our leaders and
their troops, in summing up the victories they have
gained and the towns they have taken. Then they
tell us what high articles were insisted on by our
ministers and those of the confederates, and what
pains both were at in persuading France to accept
them. But nothing of this can give the least satis-
faction to the just complaints of the kingdom. As to
the war, our grievances are, that a greater load has been
laid on us than was either just or necessary, or than
we have been able to bear; that the grossest imposi-
tions have been submitted to, for the advancement of
private wealth and power, or in order to forward the
more dangerous designs of a faction, to both which
a peace would have put an end; and that the part of
the war which was chiefly our province, which would
have been most beneficial to us and destructive to
the enemy, was wholly neglected. As to a peace,
we complain of being deluded by a mock treaty; in
which those who negotiated took care to make such
demands as they knew were impossible to be com-
plied with, and therefore might securely press every
article as if they were in earnest.
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
411
These are some of the points I design to treat of
in the following discourse; with several others,
which I thought it necessary at this time for the
kingdom to be informed of. I think I am not mis-
taken in those facts I mention; at least not in any
circumstance so material as to weaken the conse-
quences I draw from them.
After ten years' war with perpetual success, to tell
us it is yet impossible to have a good peace is very
surprising, and seems so different from what has ever
happened in the world before, that a man of any
party may be allowed suspecting that we have been
either ill used, or have not made the most of our
victories, and might therefore desire to know where
the difficulty lay. Then it is natural to inquire into
our present condition; how long we shall be able to
go on at this rate; what the consequences may be
upon the present and future ages; and whether a
peace, without that impracticable point which some
people do so much insist on, be really ruinous in
itself, or equally so with the continuance of the
war.
THE CONDUCT, &c.
THE motives that may engage a wise prince or
state in a war I take to be one or more of these:
either to check the overgrown power of some ambi-
tious neighbour; to recover what has been unjustly
taken from them; to revenge some injury they have
received, which all political casuists allow; to assist
some ally in a just quarrel; or, lastly, to defend
themselves when they are invaded. In all these
cases the writers upon politics admit a war to be
justly undertaken. The last is, what has been
usually called pro aris et focis; where no expense
or endeavour can be too great, because all we have
is at stake, and consequently our utmost force to be
exerted; and the dispute is soon determined, either
in safety or utter destruction. But in the other
four I believe it will be found that no monarch or
commonwealth did ever engage beyond a certain de-
gree never proceeding so far as to exhaust the
strength and substance of their country by antici-
pations and loans, which in a few years must put
them in a worse condition than any they could rea-
sonably apprehend from those evils for the prevent-
ing of which they first entered into the war; because
this would be to run into real infallible ruin, only in
hopes to remove what might perhaps but appear so
by a probable speculation.
And as a war should be undertaken upon a just
and prudent motive, so it is still more obvious that
a prince ought naturally to consider the condition
he is in when he enters on it; whether his coffers
be full, his revenues clear of debts, his people nu-
merous and rich, by a long peace and free trade, not
overpressed with many burdensome taxes; no vio-
lent faction ready to dispute his just prerogative, and
thereby weaken his authority at home and lessen
his reputation abroad. For if the contrary of all
this happen to be his case he will hardly be persuaded
to disturb the world's quiet and his own, while there
is any other way left of preserving the latter with
honour and safety.
Supposing the war to have commenced upon a
just motive, the next thing to be considered is,
when a prince ought in prudence to receive the over-
tures of a peace; which I take to be, either when
the enemy is ready to yield the point originally con-
tended for, or when that point is found impossible
to be ever obtained; or when contending any
longer, although with probability of gaining that
point at last, would put such a prince and his people
in a worse condition than the present loss of it. All
which considerations are of much greater force
where a war is managed by an alliance of many con-
federates, which, in a variety of interests among the
several parties, is liable to so many unforeseen acci-
dents.
In a confederate war it ought to be considered
which party has the deepest share in the quarrel :
for, although each may have their particular reasons,
yet one or two among them will probably be more
concerned than the rest, and therefore ought to bear
the greatest part of the burden, in proportion to
their strength. For example: two princes may be
competitors for a kingdom; and it will be your in-
terest to take the part of him who will probably
allow you good conditions of trade, rather than of
the other who may possibly not. However, that
prince whose cause you espouse, although never so
vigorously, is the principal in that war, and you,
properly speaking, are but a second. Or a common-
wealth may lie in danger to be overrun by a power-
ful neighbour, which in time may produce very bad
consequences upon your trade and liberty: it is
therefore necessary, as well as prudent, to lend them
assistances, and help them to win a strong secure
frontier; but, as they must, in course, be the first
and greatest sufferers, so, in justice, they ought to
bear the greatest weight. If a house be on fire, it
behoves all in the neighbourhood to run with
buckets to quench it, but the owner is sure to be
undone first; and it is not impossible that those at
next door may escape by a shower from Heaven, or
the stillness of the weather, or some other favourable
accident.
But if any ally, who is not so immediately con-
cerned in the good or ill fortune of the war, be so
generous as to contribute more than the principal
party, and even more in proportion to his abilities,
he ought at least to have his share in what is con-
quered from the enemy; or, if his romantic dispo-
sition transport him so far as to expect little or no-
thing from this, he might however hope that the
principals would make it up in dignity and respect;
and he would surely think it monstrous to find them
intermeddling in his domestic affairs, prescribing
what servants he should keep or dismiss, pressing
him perpetually with the most unreasonable de-
mands, and at every turn threatening to break the
alliance if he will not comply.
From these reflections upon war in general I
descend to consider those wars wherein England
has been engaged since the Conquest. In the civil
wars of the barons, as well as those between the
houses of York and Lancaster, great destruction was
made of the nobility and gentry; new families
raised, and old ones extinguished; but the money
spent on both sides was employed and circulated at
home; no public debts contracted, and a very few
years of peace quickly set all right again.
The like may be affirmed even of that unnatural
rebellion against king Charles I. The usurpers
maintained great armies in constant pay, had almost
continual war with Spain or Holland; but manag-
ing it by their fleets, they increased very much the
riches of the kingdom, instead of exhausting them.
Our foreign wars were generally against Scotland
or France; the first, being in this island, carried no
money out of the kingdom, and were seldom of long
continuance. During our first wars with France
we possessed great dominions in that country, where
we preserved some footing till the reign of queen
Mary; and although some of our later princes made
very chargeable expeditions thither, a subsidy and
two or three fifteenths cleared all the debt. Be-
412
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
sides, our victories were then of some use as well as
glory; for we were so prudent as to fight, and so
happy as to conquer, only for ourselves.
The Dutch wars in the reign of king Charles II.,
although begun and carried on under a very corrupt
administration, and much to the dishonour of the
crown, did indeed keep the king needy and poor
by discontinuing or discontenting his parliament
when he most needed their assistance; but neither
left any debt upon the nation, nor carried any money
out of it.
At the Revolution a general war broke out in
Europe, wherein many princes joined in alliance
against France, to check the ambitious designs of
that monarch; and here the emperor, the Dutch,
and England, were principals. About this time the
custom first began among us of borrowing millions
upon funds of interest. It was pretended that the
war could not possibly last above one or two cam-
paigns; and that the debts contracted might be
easily paid in a few years by a gentle tax, without
burdening the subject. But the true reason for em-
bracing this expedient was the security of a new
prince, not firmly settled on the throne. People
were tempted to lend by great premiums and large
interest; and it concerned them nearly to preserve
that government which they had trusted with their
money. The person said to have been author of
so detestable a project lived to see some of its fatal
consequences, whereof his grandchildren will not
see an end. And this pernicious counsel closed
very well with the posture of affairs at that time:
for a set of upstarts, who had little or no part in the
Revolution, but valued themselves upon their noise
and pretended zeal when the work was over, were
got into credit at court, by the merit of becoming
undertakers and projectors of loans and funds; these,
finding that the gentlemen of estates were not willing
to come into their measures, fell upon those new
schemes of raising money, in order to create a mo-
neyed interest, that might in time vie with the landed,
and of which they hoped to be at the head.
The ground of the first war for ten years after the
Revolution, as to the part we had in it, was to make
France acknowledge the late king, and to recover
Hudson's Bay. But during that whole war the sea
was almost entirely neglected, and the greatest part
of six millions annually employed to enlarge the
frontier of the Dutch; for the king was a general,
but not an admiral, and, although king of England,
was a native of Holland.
:
After ten years' fighting to little purpose, after
the loss of above a hundred thousand men, and a
debt remaining of twenty millions, we at length
hearkened to the terms of peace, which was con-
cluded with great advantages to the empire and
Holland, but none at all to us, and clogged soon
after with the famous treaty of partition, by which
Naples, Sicily, and Lorrain were to be added to
the French dominions; or, if that crown should
think fit to set aside the treaty, upon the Spaniards
refusing to accept it, as they declared they would to
the several parties at the very time of the transact-
ing it, then the French would have pretensions to
the whole monarchy. And so it proved in the event;
for the late king of Spain, reckoning it an indignity
to have his territories cantoned out into parcels by
other princes during his own life, and without his
consent, rather chose to bequeath the monarchy en-
tire to a younger son of France; and this prince was
acknowledged for king of Spain both by us and Hol-
land.
It must be granted that the counsels of enter-
a Dr. Gilbert Burnet, bishop of Sarum.
ing into this war were violently opposed by the
church party, who first advised the late king to ac-
knowledge the duke of Anjou; and particularly it is
affirmed that a certain great person [earl of Godol-
phin], who was then in the church interest, told
the king, in November, 1701, that since his majesty
was determined to engage in a war so contrary to
his private opinion, he could serve him no longer,
and accordingly gave up his employment; although
he happened afterwards to change his mind when he
was to be at the head of the treasury and have the
sole management of affairs at home, while those
abroad were to be in the hands of one [duke of
Marlborough] whose advantage, by all sorts of ties,
he was engaged to promote.
The declarations of war against France and Spain,
made by us and Holland, are dated within a few
days of each other. In that published by the States
they say, very truly, that they are nearest and most
exposed to the fire; that they are blocked up on all
sides, and actually attacked by the kings of France
and Spain; that their declaration is the effect of an
urging and pressing necessity; with other expres-
sions to the same purpose. They desire the assist-
ance of all kings and princes, &c. The grounds of
their quarrel with France are such as only affect them-
selves, or at least more immediately than any other
prince or state; such as the French refusing to
grant the tariff promised by the treaty of Rys-
wick; the loading of the Dutch inhabitants settled
in France with excessive duties, contrary to the
said treaty; the violation of the partition treaty by
the French accepting the king of Spain's will, and
threatening the States if they would not comply;
the seizing of the Spanish Netherlands by the
French troops, and turning out the Dutch, who, by
permission of the late king of Spain, were in garri-
son there; by which means that republic was de-
prived of her barrier, contrary to the treaty of parti-
tion, where it was particularly stipulated that the
Spanish Netherlands should be left to the archduke.
They alleged that the French king governed
Flanders as his own, although under the name of
his grandson, and sent great numbers of troops
thither to fright them; that he had seized the city
and citadel of Liege; had possessed himself of seve-
ral places in the archbishopric of Cologne, and main-
tained troops in the country of Wolfenbuttle, in
order to block up the Dutch on all sides; and
caused his resident to give in a memorial, wherein
he threatened the States to act against them if they
refused complying with the contents of that me-
morial.
The queen's declaration of war is grounded upon
the grand alliance, as this was upon the unjust
usurpations and encroachments of the French king;
whereof the instances produced are, his keeping in
possession a great part' of the Spanish dominions,
seizing Milan and the Spanish Low Countries, mak-
ing himself master of Cadiz, &c.; and instead of
giving satisfaction in these points, his putting an in-
dignity and affront on her majesty and kingdoms, by
declaring the pretended prince of Wales king of
England, &c. Which last was the only personal
quarrel we had in the war; and even this was posi-
tively denied by France, that king being willing to
acknowledge her majesty.
I think it plainly appears by both declarations
that England ought no more to have been a princi-
pal in this war than Prussia or any other power who
came afterward into that alliance. Holland was
first in danger, the French troops being at that time
just at the gates of Nimeguen. But the complaints
made in our declaration do all, except the last, as
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
413
much, or more, concern almost every prince in Eu-
rope.
For among the several parties who came first or
last into this confederacy there were few but who,
in proportion, had more to get or to lose, to hope or
to fear, from the good or ill success of this war, than
we.
The Dutch took up arms to defend themselves
from immediate ruin; and by a successful war they
proposed to have a large extent of country and a
better frontier against France. The emperor hoped
to recover the monarchy of Spain, or some part of
it, for his younger son, chiefly at the expense of us
and Holland. The king of Portugal had received
intelligence that Philip designed to renew the old
pretensions of Spain upon that kingdom, which is
surrounded by the other on all sides, except toward
the sea, and could therefore only be defended by
maritime powers.
This, with the advantageous
terms offered by king Charles, as well as by us, pre-
vailed with that prince to enter into the alliance.
The duke of Savoy's temptations and fears were yet
greater: the main charge of the war on that side
was to be supplied by England, and the profit to re-
dound to him. In case Milan should be conquered,
it was stipulated that his highness should have the
duchy of Montserrat, belonging to the duke of
Mantua, the provinces of Alexandria and Valencia,
and Lomellino, with other lands between the Po and
the Tanaro, together with the Vigevenasco, or in lieu
of it an equivalent out of the province of Novara,
adjoining to his own state; beside whatever else
could be taken from France on that side by the con-
federate forces. Then he was in terrible apprehen-
sion of being surrounded by France, who had so
many troops in the Milanese, and might have easily
swallowed up his whole duchy.
The rest of the allies came in purely for subsidies,
whereof they sunk considerable sums into their own
coffers, and refused to send their contingent to the
emperor, alleging their troops were already hired by
England and Holland.
and Bavaria were in our alliance, and by a modest
computation brought sixty thousand men into the
field against the common enemy; when Flanders,
the seat of war, was on our side, and his majesty, a
prince of great valour and conduct, at the head of
the whole confederate army; yet we had no reason
to boast of our success: how then should we be able
to oppose France with those powers against us,
which would carry sixty thousand men from us to
the enemy, and so make us upon the balance weaker
by one hundred and twenty thousand men, at the
beginning of this war, than of that in 1688 ?
On the other side, those whose opinion, or some
private motives, inclined them to give their advice
for entering into a new war, alleged how dangerous
it would be for England that Philip should be king
of Spain; that we could have no security for our
trade while that kingdom was subject to a prince of
the Bourbon family, nor any hopes of preserving the
balance of Europe, because the grandfather would in
effect be king, while his grandson had but the title,
and thereby have a better opportunity than ever of
pursuing his design for universal monarchy. These
and the like arguments prevailed; and so, without
taking time to consider the consequences, or to re-
flect on our own condition, we hastily engaged in a
war, which has cost us sixty millions; and after re-
peated as well as unexpected success in arms, has
put us and our posterity in a worse condition, not
only than any of our allies, but even our conquered
enemies themselves.
The part we have acted in the conduct of this
whole war, with reference to our allies abroad and
to a prevailing faction at home, is what I shall now
particularly examine; where, I presume, it will ap-
pear by plain matters of fact, that no nation was
ever so long or so scandalously abused, by the folly,
the temerity, the corruption, and the ambition of its
domestic enemies; or treated with so much in-
solence, injustice, and ingratitude, by its foreign
friends.
This will be manifest by proving the three follow-
First, That, against all manner of prudence or
common reason, we engaged in this war as princi-
pals, when we ought to have acted only as auxi-
liaries.
Secondly, That we spent all our vigour in pur-
suing that part of the war which could least answer
the end we proposed by beginning it; and made no
efforts at all where we could have most weakened
the common enemy, and at the same time enriched
ourselves.
Lastly, That we suffered each of our allies to
break every article in those treaties and agreements
by which they were bound, and to lay the burden
upon us.
Some time after, the duke of Anjou succeeding to
the monarchy of Spain in breach of the partitioning points :~~
treaty, the question here in England was, whether
the peace should be continued, or a new war begun?
Those who were for the former alleged the debts
and difficulties we laboured under; that both we
and the Dutch had already acknowledged Philip for
king of Spain; that the inclinations of the Spaniards
to the house of Austria, and their aversion for that
of Bourbon, were not so surely to be reckoned upon
as some would pretend; that we thought it a piece of
insolence as well as injustice in the French to offer
putting a king upon us, and the Spaniards would
conceive we had as little reason to force one upon
them; that it was true, the nature and genius of
those two people differed very much, and so would
probably continue to do, as well under a king of
French blood as one of Austrian; but that if we
would engage in a war for dethroning the duke of
Anjou we should certainly effect what, by the pro-
gress and operations of it, we endeavoured to pre-
vent, I mean a union of interest and affections be-
tween the two nations; for the Spaniards must, of
necessity, call in French troops to their assistance;
this would introduce French counsellors into king
Philip's court, and this by degrees would habituate
and reconcile the two nations; that to assist king
Charles by English and Dutch forces would render
him odious to his new subjects, who have nothing
in so great abomination as those whom they hold
for heretics; that the French would by this means
become masters of the treasures in the Spanish West
Indies; that in the last war, when Spain, Cologne,
Upon the first of these points, that we ought to
have entered into this war only as auxiliaries, let
any man reflect upon our condition at that time:
just come out of the most tedious, expensive, and
unsuccessful war that ever England had been engaged
in; sinking under heavy debts of a nature and de-
gree never heard of by us or our ancestors; the bulk
of the gentry and people heartily tired of the war,
and glad of a peace, although it brought no other
advantage but itself; no sudden prospect of lessen-
ing our taxes, which were grown as necessary to pay
our debts as to raise armies; a sort of artificial
wealth of funds and stocks in the hands of those
who for ten years before had been plundering the
public; many corruptions in every branch of our
government that needed reformation. Under these
difficulties, from which twenty years' peace and the
414
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
wisest management could hardly recover us, we de-
clare war against France, fortified by the accession
and alliance of those powers I mentioned before,
and which, in the former war, had been parties in
our confederacy. It is very obvious what a change
must be made in the balance by such weights taken
out of our scale and put into theirs; since it was
manifest, by ten years' experience, that France, with-
out those additions of strength, was able to maintain
itself against us.
So that human probability ran
with mighty odds on the other side; and in this case
nothing under the most extreme necessity should
force any state to engage in a war. We had already
acknowledged Philip for king of Spain; neither
does the queen's declaration of war take notice of
the duke of Anjou's succession to that monarchy as
a subject of quarrel, but the French king's govern-
ing it as if it were his own; his seizing Cadiz, Milan,
and the Spanish Low Countries, with the indignity
of proclaiming the pretender. In all which we
charge that prince with nothing directly relating to
us excepting the last; and this, although indeed a
great affront, might easily have been redressed with-
out a war; for the French court declared they did
not acknowledge the pretender, but only gave him
the title of king, which was allowed to Augustus by
his enemy of Sweden, who had driven him out of
Poland and forced him to acknowledge Stanislaus.
It is true, indeed, the danger of the Dutch by so
ill a neighbourhood in Flanders might affect us
very much in the consequences of it; and the loss of
Spain to the house of Austria, if it should be go-
verned by French influence and French politics,
might in time be very pernicious to our trade. It
would therefore have been prudent, as well as gene-
rous and charitable, to help our neighbour; and so
we might have done without injuring ourselves; for
by an old treaty with Holland we were bound to
assist that republic with ten thousand men when-
ever they were attacked by the French, whose troops,
upon the king of Spain's death, taking possession of
Flanders in right of Philip, and securing the Dutch
garrisons till they would acknowledge him, the
states-general, by memorials from their envoy here,
demanded only the ten thousand men we were
obliged to give them by virtue of that treaty. And
I make no doubt but the Dutch would have exerted
themselves so vigorously as to be able with that as-
sistance alone to defend their frontiers; or if they
had been forced to a peace, the Spaniards, who abhor
dismembering their monarchy, would never have
suffered the French to possess themselves of Flanders.
At that time they had none of those endearments to
each other which this war has created; and what-
ever hatred and jealousy were natural between the
two nations would then have appeared. So that
there was no sort of necessity for us to proceed fur-
ther, although we had been in a better condition.
But our politicians at that time had other views;
and a new war must be undertaken upon the advice
of those who, with their partisans and adherents,
were to be sole gainers by it. A grand alliance was
therefore made between the emperor, England, and
the states-general; by which, if the injuries com-
plained of from France were not remedied in two
months, the parties concerned were obliged mutually
to assist each other with their whole strength.
Thus we became principal in a war in conjunction
with two allies, whose share in the quarrel was be-
yond all proportion greater than ours. However, I
can see no reason, from the words of the grand alli-
ance, by which we were obliged to make those pro-
digious expenses we have since been at. By what
I have always heard and read, I take the whole
strength of the nation, as understood in that treaty,
to be the utmost that a prince can raise annually
from his subjects. If he be forced to mortgage and
borrow, whether at home or abroad, it is not pro-
perly speaking his own strength, or that of the
nation, but the entire substance of particular per-
sons, which, not being able to raise out of the an
nual income of his kingdom, he takes upon security,
and can only pay the interest. And by this method
one part of the nation is pawned to the other, with
hardly a possibility left of being ever redeemed.
Surely it would have been enough for us to have
suspended the payment of our debts contracted in
the former war, and to have continued our land and
malt tax, with those others which have since been
mortgaged: these, with some additions, would have
made up such a sum as, with prudent management,
might, I suppose, have maintained a hundred thou-
sand men by sea and land; a reasonable quota, in
all conscience, for that ally who apprehended least
danger and expected least advantage. Nor can we
imagine that either of the confederates, when the
war began, would have been so unreasonable as to
refuse joining with us upon such a foot, and expect
that we should every year go between three and four
millions in debt (which hath been our case), because
the French could hardly have contrived any offers
of a peace so ruinous to us as such a war. Posterity
will be at a loss to conceive what kind of spirit could
possess their ancestors, who, after ten years' suffering
by the unexampled politics of a nation maintaining
a war by annually pawning itself, and during a short
peace, while they were looking back with horror on the
heavy load of debts they had contracted, universally
condemning those pernicious counsels which had
occasioned them, racking their invention for some
remedies or expedients to mend their shattered con-
dition; I say that these very people, without giving
themselves time to breathe, should again enter into
a more dangerous, chargeable, and extensive war,
for the same or perhaps a greater period of time,
and without any apparent necessity. It is obvious,
in a private fortune, that whoever annually runs out,
and continues the same expenses, must every year
mortgage a greater quantity of land than he did be-
fore; and as the debt doubles and trebles upon him,
so does his inability to pay it. By the same pro-
portion we have suffered twice as much by this last
ten years' war as we did by the former; and if it
were possible to continue it five years longer at the
same rate, it would be as great a burden as the
whole twenty.
whole twenty. This computation being so easy and
trivial as it is almost a shame to mention it, posterity
will think that those who first advised the war wanted
either the sense or the honesty to consider it.
As we have wasted our strength and vital sub-
stance in this profuse manner, so we have shame-
fully misapplied it to ends at least very different
from those for which we undertook the war, and
often to effect others, which after a peace we may
severely repent. This is the second article I pro-
posed to examine.
We have now for ten years together turned the
whole force and expense of the war where the ene-
my was best able to hold us at a bay; where we
could propose no manner of advantage to ourselves;
where it was highly impolitic to enlarge our con-
quests; utterly neglecting that part which would
have saved and gained us many millions; which the
perpetual maxims of our government teach us to
pursue; which would have soonest weakened the
enemy, and must either have promoted a speedy
peace, or enabled us to continue the war.
Those who are fond of continuing the war cry up
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
415
•
our constant success at a most prodigious rate, and
reckon it infinitely greater than in all human pro-
bability we had reason to hope. Ten glorious cam-
paigns are passed; and now at last, like the sick
man, we are just expiring with all sorts of good
symptoms. Did the advisers of this war suppose it
would continue ten years, without expecting the
successes we have had; and yet at the same time de-
termine that France must be reduced, and Spain
subdued, by employing our whole strength upon
Flanders? Did they believe the last war left us in
a condition to furnish such vast supplies for so long
a period, without involving us and our posterity in
inextricable debts? If after such miraculous do- |
ings we are not yet in a condition of bringing
France to our terms, nor can tell when we shall be
so, although we should proceed without any reverse
of fortune; what could we look for in the ordinary
course of things, but a Flanders war of at least
twenty years longer? Do they indeed think a town
taken for the Dutch is a sufficient recoinpense to us
for six millions of money; which is of so little con-
sequence to determine the war, that the French may
yet hold out a dozen years more, and afford a town
every campaign at the same price?
I
say not this by any means to detract from the
army or its leaders. Getting into the enemy's lines,
passing rivers, and taking towns, may be actions
attended with many glorious circumstances; but
when all this brings no real solid advantage to us,
when it has no other end than to enlarge the terri-
tories of the Dutch, and to increase the fame and
wealth of our general; I conclude, however it comes
about, that things are not as they should be; and
that surely our forces and money might be better
employed, both toward reducing our enemy, and
working out some benefit to ourselves. But the
case is still much harder; we are destroying many
thousand lives, exhausting our substance, not for
our own interest, which would be but common pru-
dence; not for a thing indifferent, which would be
sufficient folly; but perhaps to our own destruction,
which is perfect madness. We may live to feel the
effects of our own valour more sensibly than all the
consequences we imagine from the dominions of
Spain in the duke of Anjou. We have conquered
a noble territory for the States, that will maintain
sufficient troops to defend itself, and feed many
hundred thousand inhabitants; where all encou-
ragement will be given to introduce and improve
manufactures, which was the only advantage they
wanted; and which, added to their skill, industry,
and parsimony, will enable them to undersell us in
every market of the world.
Our supply of forty thousand men, according to
the first stipulation, added to the quotas of the em-
peror and Holland, which they were obliged to fur-
nish, would have made an army of near two hundred
thousand, exclusive of garrisons: enough to with-
stand all the power that France could bring against it;
and we might have employed the rest much better,
both for the common cause and our own advantage.
The war in Spain must be imputed to the credu-
lity of our ministers, who suffered themselves to be
persuaded by the imperial court that the Spaniards
were so violently affected to the house of Austria,
as upon the first appearance there with a few troops
under the archduke, the whole kingdom would im-
mediately revolt. This we tried; and found the
emperor to have deceived either us or himself. Yet
there we drove on the war at a prodigious disadvan-
tage, with great expense; and by a most corrupt
management, the only general [earl of Peterborough]
who, by a course of conduct and fortune almost mi-
|
raculous, had nearly put us into possession of the
kingdom, was left wholly unsupported, exposed to
the envy of his rivals, disappointed by the caprices
of a young unexperienced prince, under the guid-
ance of a rapacious German ministry, and at last
called home in discontent. By which our armies,
both in Spain and Portugal, were made a sacrifice
to avarice, ill conduct, or treachery.
In common prudence we should either have
pushed that war with the utmost vigour in so fortu-
nate a juncture, especially since the gaining of that
kingdom was the great point for which we pretended
to continue the war; or at least, when we had
found, or made that design impracticable, we should
not have gone on in so expensive a management of
it, but have kept our troops on the defensive in
Catalonia, and pursued some other way more
effectual for distressing the common enemy and ad-
vantaging ourselves.
And what a noble field of honour and profit had
we before us wherein to employ the best of our
strength, which, against the maxims of British policy,
we suffered to lie wholly neglected! I have some-
times wondered how it came to pass that the style
of maritime powers, by which our allies in a sort of
contemptuous manner usually couple us with the
Dutch, did never put us in mind of the sea; and
while some politicians were showing us the way to
Spain by Flanders, others to Savoy or Naples, that
the West Indies should never come into their heads.
With half the charge we have been at we might
have maintained our original quota of forty thousand
men in Flanders, and at the same time by our fleets.
and naval forces have so distressed the Spaniards in
the north and south seas of America as to prevent
any returns of money from thence except in our own
bottoms. This is what best became us to do as a mari-
time power; this with any common degree of suc-
cess would soon have compelled France to the
necessities of a peace, and Spain to acknowledge
the archduke. But while we for ten years have been
squandering away our money upon the continent,
France has been wisely engrossing all the trade of
Peru, going directly with their ships to Lima and
other ports, and there receiving ingots of gold and
silver for French goods of little value; which, be-
side the mighty advantage to their nation at present,
may divert the channel of that trade for the future, so
beneficial to us, who used to receive annually such vast
sums at Cadiz for our goods sent thence to the Span-
ish West Indies. All this we tamely saw and suf-
fered without the least attempt to hinder it, except
what was performed by some private men at Bristol,
who, inflamed by a true spirit of courage and indus-
try, did about three years ago, with a few vessels.
fitted out at their own charge, make a most successful
voyage into those parts; took one of the Acapulco
ships, very narrowly missed of the other, and are
lately returned laden with unenvied wealth, to show
us what might have been done with the like ma-
nagement by a public undertaking. At least we
might easily have prevented those great returns of
money to France and Spain, although we could not
have taken it ourselves. And if it be true, as the
advocates for war would have it, that the French
are now so impoverished, in what condition must
they have been if that issue of wealth had been
stopped?
But great events often turn upon very small cir-
cumstances. It was the kingdom's misfortune that
the sea was not the duke of Marlborough's element;
otherwise the whole force of the war would infallibly
have been bestowed there, infinitely to the advan-
tage of his country, which would then have gone
416
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
hand in hand with his own.
But it is very truly |
objected, that if we alone had made such an attempt
as this, Holland would have been jealous; or if we
had done it in conjunction with Holland, the house
of Austria would have been discontented. This has
been the style of late years; which, whoever intro-
duced among us, they have taught our allies to speak
after them. Otherwise it could hardly enter into
any imagination, that while we are confederates in a
war with those who are to have the whole profit,
and who leave a double share of the burden upon
us, we dare not think of any design (although
against the common enemy) where there is the least
prospect of doing good to our own country, for fear
of giving umbrage and offence to our allies, while
we are ruining ourselves to conquer provinces and
kingdoms for them. I therefore confess with shame
that this objection is true; for it is very well known
that, while the design of Mr. Hill's expedition a re-
mained a secret, it was suspected in Holland and
Germany to be intended against Peru; whereupon
the Dutch made everywhere their public complaints;
and the ministers at Vienna talked of it as an inso-
lence in the queen to attempt such an undertaking;
the failure of which (partly by the accidents of a
storm, and partly by the stubbornness or treachery
of some in that colony for whose relief and at whose
entreaty it was in some measure designed) is no
objection at all to an enterprise so well concerted
and with such fair probability of success.
а
It was something singular that the States should
express their uneasiness when they thought we in-
tended to make some attempt in the Spanish West
Indies; because it is agreed between us, whatever is
conquered there by us or them shall belong to the
conqueror; which is the only article that I can call
to mind in all our treaties or stipulations with any
view of interest to this kingdom; and for that very
reason I suppose among others has been altogether
neglected. Let those who think this a severe reflec-
tion examine the whole management of the present
war by sea and land, with all our alliances, treaties,
stipulations, and conventions, and consider whether
the whole does not look as if some particular care
and industry had been used to prevent any benefit
or advantage that might possibly accrue to Britain?
Upon the first article of the offensive alliance it
is to be observed, that although the grand alliance,
as I have already said, allows England and Holland
to possess for their own whatever each of them shali
conquer in the Spanish West Indies, yet there we are
quite cut out by consenting that the archduke shall
possess the dominions of Spain in as full a manner
as their late king Charles. And what is more re-
markable, we broke this very article in favour of
Portugal by subsequent stipulations, where we agree
that king Charles shall deliver up Estremadura, Vigo,
and some other places to the Portuguese as soon
as we can conquer them from the enemy. They who
are guilty of so much folly and contradiction know
best whether it proceeded from corruption or stupidity,
By two other articles (besides the honour of being
convoys and guards in ordinary to the Portuguese
ships and coasts) we are to guess the enemy's
thoughts, and to take the king of Portugal's word,
whenever he has a fancy that he shall be invaded.
We are also to furnish him with a strength superior
to what the enemy intends to invade any of his
dominions with, let that be what it will. And until
we know what the enemy's forces are his Portu-
guese majesty is sole judge what strength is superior,
and what will be able to prevent an invasion, and
may send our fleets whenever he pleases upon his
errands to some of the farthest parts of the world, or
keep them attending upon his own coasts till he
thinks fit to dismiss them. These fleets must like-
wise be subject in all things, not only to the king,
but to his viceroys, admirals, and governors, in any
of his foreign dominions, when he is in a humour to
apprehend an invasion, which I believe is an in-
dignity that was never offered before, except to a
conquered nation.
In the defensive alliance with that crown, which
is to remain perpetual, and where only England
and Holland are parties with them, the same care,
in almost the same words, is taken for our fleet to
attend their coasts and foreign dominions, and to be
under the same obedience. We and the States are
likewise to furnish them with twelve thousand men
at our own charge, which we are constantly to re-
cruit, and these are to be subject to the Portuguese
generals.
This kind of treatment from our principal allies
In the offensive alliance, we took no care of having
has taught the same dialect to all the rest; so that the assistance of Portugal whenever we should be
there is hardly a petty prince whom we half main-invaded; but in this it seems we are wiser, for that
tain by subsidies and pensions, who is not ready
upon every occasion to threaten us that he will re-
cal his troops (although they must rob or starve at
home) if we refuse to comply with him in any de-
mand however unreasonable.
Upon the third head I shall produce some in-
stances to show how tamely we have suffered each
of our allies to infringe every article in those treaties
and stipulations by which they were bound, and to
lay the load upon us.
king is obliged to make war on France or Spain
whenever we or Holland are invaded by either;
but before this, we are to supply them with the same
forces, both by sea and land, as if he were invaded
himself. And this must needs be a very prudent
and safe course for a maritime power to take upon a
sudden invasion, by which, instead of making use
of our fleets and armies for our own defence, we
must send them abroad for the defence of Portugal.
By the thirteenth article we are told what this
But before I enter upon this, which is a large sub-assistance is which the Portuguese are to give us,
ject, I shall take leave to offer a few remarks on
certain articles in three of our treaties, which may let
us perceive how much those ministers valued or un-
derstood the true interest, safety, or honour of their
country.
We have made two alliances with Portugal, an
offensive and a defensive: the first is to remain in
force only during the present war; the second to be
perpetual. In the offensive alliance the emperor,
England, and Holland are parties with Portugal;
in the defensive only we and the States.
This expedition was designed for the reduction of India
and Canada, and regaining the Newfoundland fishery, which
the French had taken from us; but was unsuccessful.
and upon what conditions. They are to furnish ten
men-of-war; and when England and Holland shall
be invaded by France and Spain together, or by
Spain alone, in either of these cases, those ten Por-
tuguese men-of-war are to serve only upon their own
coasts, where, no doubt, they will be of mighty use
to their allies, and terror to the enemy.
How the Dutch were drawn to have a part in
either of these two alliances is not very material to in-
quire, since they have been so wise as never to observe
them, nor I suppose ever intended it, but resolved, as
they have since done, to shift the load upon us.
Let any man. read these two treaties from the
beginning to the end, he will imagine that the king
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
417
of Portugal and his ministers sat down and made
them by themselves, and then sent them to their
allies to sign; the whole spirit and tenor of them
quite through running only upon this single point,
what we and Holland are to do for Portugal, without
any mention of an equivalent, except those ten ships
which, at the time when we have greatest need of their
assistance, are obliged to attend upon their own coasts.
The barrier treaty between Great Britain and
Holland was concluded at the Hague on the 29th
of October, in the year 1709. In this treaty neither
her majesty nor her kingdoms have any interest or
concern further than what is mentioned in the
second and the twentieth articles; by the former, the
States are to assist the queen in defending the act
of succession; and by the other, not to treat of a
peace till France has acknowledged the queen, and
the succession of Hanover, and promised to remove
the pretender out of that king's dominions.
As to the first of these, it is certainly for the safety
and interest of the States-General that the protestant
succession should be preserved in England, because
such a popish prince as we apprehend would infal-
libly join with France in the ruin of that republic.
And the Dutch are as much bound to support our
succession as they are tied to any part of a treaty,
or league offensive and defensive against a common
enemy, without any separate benefit upon that con-
sideration. Her majesty is in the full peaceable
possession of her kingdoms, and of the hearts of her
people, among whom hardly one in five thousand
is in the pretender's interest. And whether the as-
sistance of the Dutch, to preserve a right so well
established, be an equivalent to those many unrea-
sonable exorbitant articles in the rest of the treaty,
let the world judge. What an impression of our
settlement must it give abroad to see our ministers
offering such conditions to the Dutch, to prevail on
them to be guarantees of our acts of parliament! |
Neither perhaps is it right, in point of policy or good
sense, that a foreign power should be called in to
confirm our succession by way of guarantee, but only
to acknowledge it, otherwise we put it out of the
power of our own legislature to change our succes-
sion without the consent of that prince or state who
is guarantee, however our posterity may hereafter,
by the tyranny and oppression of any succeeding
princes, be reduced to the fatal necessity of break-
ing in upon the excellent happy settlement now in
force.
As to the other articles, it is a natural consequence
that must attend any treaty of peace we can make
with France, being only the acknowledgment of her
majesty as queen of her own dominions, and the
right of succession by our own laws, which no foreign
power has any pretence to dispute.
However, in order to deserve these mighty ad-
vantages from the States, the rest of the treaty is
wholly taken up in directing what we are to do for
them.
By the grand alliance, which was the foundation
of the present war, the Spanish Low Countries were
to be recovered and delivered to the king of Spain;
but by this treaty that prince is to possess nothing
in Flanders during the war; and after a peace the
States are to have the military command of about
twenty towns, with their dependencies, and four
hundred thousand crowns a-year from the king of
Spain, to maintain their garrisons. By which means
they will have the command of all Flanders from
Newport-on-the-Sea to Namur-on-the-Maese, and be
a In the first edition the sentence finished thus-how much so-
ever the necessities of the kingdom may require it.-See the post-
script.
VOL. I.
entirely masters of the Pais de Waas, the richest
part of those provinces. Further, they have liberty
to garrison any place they shall think fit in the
Spanish Low Countries whenever there is an ap-
pearance of war, and consequently to put garrisons
into Ostend, or where else they please, upon a rup-
ture with England.
By this treaty likewise, the Dutch will in effect be
entire masters of all the Low Countries; may impose
duties, restrictions in commerce, and prohibitions
at their pleasure; and in that fertile country may set
up all sorts of manufactures, particularly the woollen,
by inviting the disobliged manufacturers in Ireland,
and the French refugees who are scattered all over
Germany. And as this manufacture increases abroad
the clothing-people of England will be necessitated,
for want of employment, to follow, and in few years,
by the help of the low interest of money in Holland,
Flanders may recover that beneficial trade which we
got from them. The landed men of England will
then be forced to re-establish the staples of wool
abroad, and the Dutch, instead of being only the
carriers, will become the original possessors of those
commodities with which the greatest part of the trade
of the world is now carried on. And as they increase
their trade it is obvious they will enlarge their
strength at sea, and that ours must lessen in pro-
portion.
All the ports in Flanders are to be subject to the
like duties that the Dutch shall lay upon the Schelde,
which is to be closed on the side of the States; thus
all other nations are in effect shut out from trading
with Flanders. Yet in the very same article it is
said that the States shall be favoured in all the
Spanish dominions as much as Great Britain, or as
the people most favoured. We have conquered
Flanders for them, and are in a worse condition, as
to our trade there, than before the war began. We
have been the great support of the king of Spain, to
whom the Dutch have hardly contributed anything
at all, and yet they are to be equally favoured with
us in all his dominions. Of all this the queen is
under the unreasonable obligation of being gua-
rantee, and that they shall possess their barrier and
their four hundred thousand crowns a-year, even
before a peace.
It is to be observed that this treaty was only signed
by one of our plenipotentiaries [lord Townshend],
and I have been told that the other [duke of Marl-
borough] was heard to say he would rather lose his
right hand than set it to such a treaty. Had he
spoke those words in due season, and loud enough
to be heard on this side the water, considering the
credit he had then at court, he might have saved
much of his country's honour, and got as much to
himself; therefore if the report be true I am inclined
to think he only said it. I have been likewise told
that some very necessary circumstances were wanting
in the entrance upon this treaty, but the ministers
here rather chose to sacrifice the honour of the crown
and the safety of their country than not ratify what
one of their favourites had transacted.
Let me now consider in what manner our allies
have observed those treaties they made with us,
and the several stipulations and agreements pur-
suant to them.
By the grand alliance between the empire, Eng-
land, and Holland, we were to assist the other two totis
viribus by sea and land. By a convention subse-
quent to this treaty, the proportions which the several
parties should contribute toward the war were ad-
justed in the following manner: The emperor was
obliged to furnish ninety thousand men against
France, either in Italy or upon the Rhine; Holland
2 E
418
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
In
treaties of contributions is, that the product of those
countries shall pass free and unmolested. So that
the question was reduced to this short issue; whether
the Dutch should lose this paltry benefit, or the
common cause an advantage of such mighty im-
portance?
It
to bring sixty thousand into the field in Flanders, | erecting their magazines; and one article in those
exclusive of garrisons; and we forty thousand.
winter 1702, which was the next year, the duke of
Marlborough proposed raising ten thousand men
more by way of augmentation, and to carry on the
war with greater vigour, to which the parliament
agreed, and the Dutch were to raise the same
number. This was upon a par, directly contrary
to the former stipulation, whereby our part was to
be a third less than theirs, and therefore it was
granted with a condition that Holland should break
off all trade and commerce with France. But this
condition was never executed; the Dutch only amus-
ing us with a specious declaration till our session
of parliament was ended; and the following year it
was taken off by concert between our general and
the States, without any reason assigned for the satis-
faction of the kingdom. The next, and some ensu-
ing campaigns, further additional forces were allowed
by parliament for the war in Flanders; and in every
new supply the Dutch gradually lessened their pro-
portions, although the parliament addressed the
queen that the States might be desired to observe
them according to agreement, which had no other
effect than to teach them to elude it by making their
troops nominal corps, as they did by keeping up
the number of regiments but sinking a fifth part of
the men and money; so that now things are just
inverted. And in all new levies we contributed a
third more than the Dutch, who at first were obliged
to the same proportion more than we.
Besides, the more towns we conquer for the States
the worse condition we are in toward reducing the
common enemy, and consequently of putting an end
to the war. For they make no scruple of employ-
ing the troops of their quota toward garrisoning
every town as fast as it is taken, directly contrary
to the agreement between us, by which all garrisons
are particularly excluded. This is at length arrived,
by several steps, to such a height that there are at
present in the field not so many forces under the
duke of Marlborough's command in Flanders as
Britain alone maintains for that service, nor have
been for some years past.
The duke of Marlborough, having entered the ene-
my's lines and taken Bouchain, formed the design
of keeping so great a number of troops, and particu-
larly of cavalry, in Lisle, Tournay, Douay, and the
country between, as should be able to harass all the
neighbouring provinces of France during the winter,
prevent the enemy from erecting their magazines,
and by consequence from subsisting their forces next
spring, and render it impossible for them to assem-
ble their army another year without going back
behind the Soam to do it. In order to effect this
project it was necessary to be at an expense extra-
ordinary of forage for the troops, for building stables,
finding fire and candle for the soldiers, and other
incident charges. The queen readily agreed to
furnish her share of the first article, that of the
forage, which only belonged to her. But the States.
insisting that her majesty should likewise come into
a proportion of the other articles, which in justice
belonged totally to them, she agreed even to that
rather than a design of this importance should fail.
And yet we know it has failed, and that the Dutch
refused their consent till the time was past for putting
it in execution, even in the opinion of those who
proposed it. Perhaps a certain article in the treaties
of contribution, submitted to by such of the French
dominions as pay them to the States, was the prin-
cipal cause of defeating this project, since one great
advantage to have been gained by it was, as before
is mentioned, to have hindered the enemy from
The sea being the element where we might most
probably carry on the war with any advantage to
ourselves, it was agreed that we should bear five-
eighths of the charge in that service, and the Dutch
the other three; and by the grand alliance, what-
ever we or Holland should conquer in the Spanish
West Indies was to accrue to the conquerors.
might therefore have been hoped that this maritime
ally of ours would have made up in their fleet what
they fell short in their army; but quite otherwise;
they never once furnished their quota either of ships
or men; or if some few of their fleet now and then
appeared it was no more than appearing, for they
immediately separated, to look to their merchants
and protect their trade. And we may remember
very well when these guarantees of our succession,
after having not one ship for many months together
in the Mediterranean, sent that part of their quota
thither, and furnished nothing to us, at the same
time that they alarmed us with the rumour of an in-
vasion. And last year, when sir James Wishart was
despatched into Holland to expostulate with the
States, and to desire they would make good their
agreements in so important a part of the service, he
met with such a reception as ill became a republic
to give that were under so many great obligations to
us;
in short, such a one as those only deserve who
are content to take it.
It has likewise been no small inconvenience to us,
that the Dutch are always slow in paying their sub-
sidies; by which means the weight and pressure of
the payment lies upon the queen, as well as the
blame if her majesty be not very exact. Nor will
this always content our allies for in July, 1711, the
king of Spain was paid all his subsidies to the first of
January next; nevertheless he has since complained
for want of money; and his secretary threatened
that, if we would not further supply his majesty, he
could not answer for what might happen; although
king Charles had not at that time one-third of the
troops for which he was paid; and even those he had
were neither paid nor clothed.
I cannot forbear mentioning here another passage
concerning subsidies, to show what opinion foreign-
ers have of our easiness, and how much they reckon
themselves masters of our money, whenever they
think fit to call for it. The queen was by agreement
to pay two hundred thousand crowns a-year to the
Prussian troops; the States one hundred thousand;
and the emperor only thirty thousand for recruiting,
which his imperial majesty never paid. Prince Eu-
gene happening to pass by Berlin, the ministers of
that court applied to him for redress in this particular;
and his highness very fankly promised them that, in
consideration of this deficiency, Britain and the
States should increase their subsidies to seventy
thousand crowns more between them; and that the
emperor should be punctual for the time to come.
This was done by that prince without any orders or
power whatsoever. The Dutch very reasonably re-
fused consenting to it; but the Prussian minister
here, making his applications at our court, prevailed
on us to agree to our proportion before we could hear
what resolution would be taken in Holland.
It is
therefore to be hoped that his Prussian majesty, at
the end of this war, will not have the same cause of
complaint which he had at the close of the last ;
that
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
419
his military chest was emptier by twenty thousand
crowns than at the time that war began.
The emperor, as we have already said, was by sti-
pulation to furnish ninety thousand men against the
common enemy, as having no fleets to maintain, and
in right of his family being most concerned in the
war. However, this agreement has been so ill ob-
served, that from the beginning of the war to this
day neither of the two last emperors had ever
twenty thousand men on their own account in the
common cause, excepting once in Italy, when the
imperial court exerted itself in a point they have
much more at heart than that of gaining Spain or
the Indies to their family. When they had succeeded
in their attempts on the side of Italy, and observed
our blind zeal for pushing on the war at all adven-
tures, they soon found out the most effectual expe-
dient to excuse themselves. They computed easily
that it would cost them less to make large presents
to one single person than to pay an army, and turn
to as good account. They thought they could not
put their affairs into better hands; and therefore
wisely left us to fight their battles.
Besides, it appeared by several instances how little
the emperor regarded his allies, or the cause they
were engaged in, when once he thought the empire
itself was secure. It is known enough that he
might several times have made a peace with his dis-
contented subjects in Hungary, upon terms not at all
unbefitting either his dignity or interest; but he
rather chose to sacrifice the whole alliance to his
private passion, by entirely subduing and enslaving
a miserable people, who had but too much provoca-
tion to take up arms to free themselves from the
pressions under which they were groaning; yet this
must serve as an excuse for breaking his agreement,
and diverting so great a body of troops, which
might have been employed against France.
op-
It
crown and to assert the title of his brother to the
monarchy of Spain, may be brought from the pro-
ceedings of that court not many months ago.
was judged that a war carried on upon the side of
Italy would cause a great diversion of the French
forces, wound them in a very tender part, and facili-
tate the progress of our arms in Spain as well as
Flanders. It was proposed to the duke of Savoy to
make this diversion, and not only a diversion during
the summer, but the winter too, by taking quarters
on this side of the hills. Only, in order to make
him willing and able to perform this work, two points
were to be settled: first, it was necessary to end the
dispute between the imperial court and his royal
highness, which had no other foundation than the
emperor's refusing to make good some articles of
that treaty, on the faith of which the duke engaged
in the present war, and for the execution whereof
Britain and Holland became guarantees, at the re-
quest of the late emperor Leopold. To remove
this difficulty, the earl of Peterborow was despatched
to Vienna, got over some part of those disputes to
the satisfaction of the duke of Savoy, and had put
the rest in a fair way of being accommodated at
the time the emperor Joseph died. Upon which
great event the duke of Savoy took the resolution
of putting himself immediately at the head of the
army, although the whole matter was not finished,
since the common cause required his assistance; and
that, until a new emperor were elected, it was im-
possible to make good the treaty to him. In order
to enable him, the only thing he asked was that he
should be reinforced by the imperial court with eight
thousand men before the end of the campaign. Mr.
Whitworth was sent to Vienna to make this proposal;
and it is credibly reported that he was empowered,
rather than fail, to offer forty thousand pounds for
the march of those eight thousand men, if he found
it was want of ability and not inclination that hin-
dered the sending of them. But he was so far from
succeeding, that it was said the ministers of that
court did not so much as give him an opportunity to
tempt them with any particular sums, but cut off all
his hopes at once by alleging the impossibility of
complying with the queen's deinands upon any con-
sideration whatsoever. They could not plead their
old excuse of the war in Hungary, which was then
brought to an end. They had nothing to offer but
some general speculative reasons, which it would
expose them to repeat; and so, after much delay
and many trifling pretences, they utterly refused so
small and seasonable an assistance, to the ruin of a
project that would have more terrified France and
caused a greater diversion of their forces than a much
more numerous army in any other part. Thus, for
want of eight thousand men, for whose winter cam-
Another instance of the emperor's indifference, or
rather dislike, to the common cause of the allies, is
the business of Toulon. This design was indeed
discovered here at home by a person whom every-
body knows to be the creature of a certain great
man, at least as much noted for his skill in gaming
as in politics, upon the base mercenary end of getting
money by wagers; which was then so common a
practice, that I remember a gentleman in business,
who, having the curiousity to inquire how wagers
went upon the Exchange, found some people deep in
the secret to have been concerned in that kind of
traffic; as appeared by premiums named for towns
which nobody but those behind the curtain could
suspect. However, although this project had gotten
wind by so scandalous a proceeding, yet Toulon
might probably have been taken, if the emperor had
not thought fit in that very juncture to detach twelve
or fifteen thousand men to seize Naples, as an enter-paign the queen was willing to give forty thousand
prise that was more his private and immediate inter-
est. But it was manifest that his imperial majesty had
no mind to see Toulon in possession of the allies; for
even with these discouragements the attempt might
yet have succeeded, if prince Eugene had not thought
fit to oppose it, which cannot be imputed to his own
judgment, but to some politic reasons of his court.
The duke of Savoy was for attacking the enemy as
soon as our army arrived; but when the mareschal
de Thesse's troops were all come up, to pretend to
besiege the place in the condition we were at that
time was a farce and a jest. Had Toulon fallen
then into our hands, the maritime power of France
would in a great measure have been destroyed.
But a much greater instance than either of the
foregoing, how little the emperor regarded us or our
quarrel, after all we had done to save his imperial
pounds, and for want of executing the design I lately
mentioned of hindering the enemy from erecting
magazines, toward which her majesty was ready not
only to bear her own proportion but a share of that
which the States were obliged to, our hopes of taking
winter quarters in the north and south parts of France
are eluded, and the war left in that method which
is likely to continue it longest. Can there an ex-
ample be given, in the whole course of this war,
where we have treated the pettiest prince with whom
we had to deal in so contemptuous a manner? Did
we ever once consider what we could afford, or what
we were obliged to, when our assistance was desired,
even while we lay under immediate apprehensions
of being invaded?
When Portugal came as a confederate into the
grand alliance, it was stipulated that the empire,
2 E 2
420
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
England, and Holland, should each maintain four
thousand men of their own troops in that kingdom,
and pay between them a million of patacoons to the
king of Portugal, for the support of twenty-eight
thousand Portugese, which number of forty thousand
was to be the confederate army against Spain on the
Portugal side. This treaty was ratified by all the
three powers. But in a short time after the emperor
declared himself unable to comply with this part of
the agreement, and so left the two-thirds upon us,
who very generously undertook that burden and at
the same time two-thirds of the subsidies for main-
tenance of the Portuguese troops. But neither is
this the worst part of the story; for although the
Dutch did indeed send their own particular quota
of four thousand men to Portugal (which, however,
they would not agree to but upon condition that the
other two-thirds should be supplied by us), yet they
never took care to recruit them; for, in the year
1706, the Portuguese, British, and Dutch forces,
having marched with the earl of Galway into Castile,
and by the noble conduct of that general being forced
to retire into Valencia, it was found necessary to
raise a new army on the Portugal side, where the
queen has, at several times, increased her establish-
ment to ten thousand five hundred men, and the
Dutch never replaced one single man, nor paid one
penny of their subsidies to Portugal in six years.
The Spanish army on the side of Catalonia is, or
ought to be, about fifty thousand men exclusive of
Portugal. And here the war has been carried on
almost entirely at our cost. For this whole army is
paid by the queen, excepting only seven battalions
and fourteen squadrons of Dutch and Palatines; and
even fifteen hundred of these are likewise in our
pay; beside the sums given to king Charles for sub-
sidies and the maintenance of his court. Neither
are our troops at Gibraltar included within this
number. And further, we alone have been at all
the charge of transporting the forces first sent from
Genoa to Barcelona, and of all the imperial recruits
from time to time; and have likewise paid vast
sums, as levy-money, for every individual man and
horse so furnished to recruit, although the horses
were scarce worth the price of transportation.
this has been almost the constant misfortune of our
fleet during the present war; instead of being em-
ployed on some enterprise for the good of the nation,
or even for the protection of our trade, to be wholly
taken up in transporting soldiers.
But
We have actually conquered all Bavaria, Ulm,
Augsbourg, Landau, and great part of Alsace, for
the emperor; and by the troops we have furnished,
the armies we have paid, and the diversions we have
given to the enemies' forces, have chiefly contributed
to the conquests of Milan, Mantua, and Mirandola,
and to the recovery of the duchy of Modena. The
last emperor drained the wealth of those countries
into his own coffers, without increasing his troops
against France by such mighty acquisitions, or yield-
ing to the most reasonable requests we have made.
Of the many towns we have taken for the Dutch,
we have consented by the barrier treaty that all
those which were not in the possession of Spain
upon the death of the late Catholic king shall be
part of the States' dominions, and that they shall
have the military power in the most considerable
of the rest; which is, in effect, to be the absolute
sovereigns of the whole. And the Hollanders have
already made such good use of their time, that, in
conjunction with our general, the oppressions of
Flanders are much greater than ever.
And this treatment, which we have received from
our two principal allies, has been pretty well copied
by most other princes in the confederacy with whom
we have any dealings. For instance, seven Portu-
guese regiments after the battle of Almanza went
off with the rest of that broken army to Catalonia;
the king of Portugal said he was not able to pay
them while they were out of his country; the queen
consented therefore to do it herself, provided the
king would raise as many more to supply their
place. This he engaged to do, but he never per-
formed. Notwithstanding which, his subsidies were
constantly paid him by my lord Godolphin for almost
four years, without any deduction upon account of
those seven regiments, directly contrary to the
seventh article of our offensive alliance with that
crown, where it is agreed that a deduction shall be
made out of those subsidies in proportion to the
number of men wanting in that complement which
the king is to maintain. But, whatever might have
been the reasons for this proceeding, it seems they
are above the understanding of the present lord-
treasurer [earl of Oxford], who, not entering into
those refinements of paying the public money upon
private considerations, has been so uncourtly as to
stop it. This disappointment, I suppose, has put the
court of Lisbon upon other expedients, of raising the
price of forage, so as to force us either to lessen our
number of troops or to be at double expense in
maintaining them; and this, at a time when their
own product as well as the import of corn was
never greater; and of demanding a duty upon the
soldiers' clothes we carried over for those troops
which have been their sole defence against an in-
veterate enemy; whose example might have infused
courage, as well as taught them discipline, if their
spirits had been capable of receiving either.
In order to augment our forces every year in the
same proportion as those for whom we fight diminish
theirs, we have been obliged to hire troops from
several princes of the empire, whose ministers and
residents here have perpetually importuned the
court with unreasonable demands, under which our
late ministers thought fit to be passive. For those
demands were always backed with a threat to recal
their soldiers, which was a thing not to be heard of,
In the
because it might discontent the Dutch.
mean time, those princes never sent their contingent
to the emperor, as by the laws of the empire they
are obliged to do, but gave for their excuse that we
had already hired all they could possibly spare.
But, if all this be true; if, according to what I
have affirmed, we began this war contrary to reason;
if, as the other party themselves upon all occasions
acknowledge, the success we have had was more than
we could reasonably expect; if, after all our success,
we have not made that use of it which in reason we
ought to have done; if we have made weak and
foolish bargains with our allies, suffered them tamely
to break every article, even in those bargains to our
disadvantage, and allowed them to treat us with in-
solence and contempt, at the very instant when we
were gaining towns, provinces, and kingdoms for
them, at the price of our ruin and without any
prospect of interest to ourselves; if we have con-
sumed all our strength in attacking the enemy on
the strongest side, where (as the old duke of Schom-
berg expressed it) to engage with France was to
take a bull by the horns, and left wholly un-
attempted that part of the war which could only
enable us to continue or to end it; if all this, I say,
be our case, it is a very obvious question to ask, by
what motives or what management we are thus be-
come the dupes and bubbles of Europe? Surely it
cannot be owing to the stupidity arising from the
coldness of our climate, since those among our allies
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
421
who have given us most reason to complain are as
far removed from the sun as ourselves.
If, in laying open the real causes of our present
misery, I am forced to speak with some freedom, I
think it will require no apology. Reputation is the
smallest sacrifice those can make us who have been
the instruments of our ruin, because it is that for
which, in all probability, they have the least value.
So that, in exposing the actions of such persons, I
cannot be said, properly speaking, to do them an in-
jury. But as it will be some satisfaction to our
people to know by whom they have been so long
abused, so it may be of great use to us and our pos-
terity not to trust the safety of their country in the
hands of those who act by such principles and from
such motives.
I have already observed that, when the counsels
of this war were debated in the late king's time, a
certain great man was then so averse from entering
into it, that he rather chose to give up his employ-
ment and tell the king he could serve him no
longer. Upon that prince's death, although the
grounds of our quarrel with France had received no
manner of addition, yet this lord thought fit to alter
his sentiments; for the scene was quite changed:
his lordship, and the family with whom he was en-
gaged by so complicated an alliance, were in the
highest credit possible with the queen. The trea-
surer's staff was ready for his lordship; the duke
was to command the army; and the duchess, by her
employments and the favour she was possessed of,
to be always nearest her majesty's person; by
which the whole power at home and abroad would
be devolved upon that family. This was a prospect
so very inviting that, to confess the truth, it could
not be easily withstood by any who have so keen
an appetite for wealth or power. By an agreement
subsequent to the grand alliance, we were to assist
the Dutch with forty thousand men, all to be com-
manded by the duke of Marlborough. So that,
whether this war was prudently begun or not, it is
plain that the true spring or motive of it was the
aggrandizing of a particular family; and, in short, a
war of the general and the ministry, and not of the
prince or people; since those very persons were
against it, when they knew the power, and conse-
quently the profit, would be in other hands.
With these measures fell in all that set of people
who are called the moneyed men; such as had raised
vast sums by trading with stocks and funds, and
lending upon great interest and premiums; whose
perpetual harvest is war, and whose beneficial way
of traffic must very much decline by a peace.
In that whole chain of encroachments made upon
us by the Dutch, which I have above deduced, and
under these several gross impositions from other
princes, if any one should ask why our general
continued so easy to the last, I know no other
way so probable, or indeed so charitable, to account
for it, as by that unmeasurable love of wealth which
his best friends allow to be his predominant passion.
However, I shall wave anything that is personal upon
this subject. I shall say nothing of those great pre-
sents made by several princes which the soldiers used.
to call winter foraging, and said it was better than
that of the summer; of 23 per cent. subtracted out of
all the subsidies we pay in those parts, which amounts
to no inconsiderable sum; and lastly, of the grand
perquisites in a long successful war which are so ami-
cably adjusted between him and the States.
But when the war was thus begun, there soon fell
in other incidents here at home which made the
continuance of it necessary for those who were the
chief advisers. The Whigs were at that time out of
all credit or consideration. The reigning favourites
had always carried what were called the Tory prin-
ciples at least as high as our constitution could
bear; and most others in great employments were
These last, among
wholly in the church interest.
whom were several persons of the greatest merit,
quality, and consequence, were not able to endure
the many instances of pride, insolence, avarice, and
ambition, which those favourites began so early to
discover, nor to see them presuming to be sole dis-
pensers of the royal favour. However, their oppo-
sition was to no purpose; they wrestled with too
great a power and were soon crushed under it.
For those in possession, finding they could never be
quiet in their usurpations while others had any
credit who were at least upon an equal foot of
merit, began to make overtures to the discarded
Whigs, who would be content with any terms of ac-
commodation. Thus commenced this solemn league
and covenant, which has ever since been cultivated
with so much application. The great traders in
money were wholly devoted to the Whigs, who had
first raised them. The army, the court, and the
reasury, continued under the old despotic adminis-
tration: the Whigs were received into employment,
left to manage the parliament, cry down the landed
interest, and worry the church.
the church. Meantime, our
allies, who were not ignorant that all this artificial
structure had no true foundation in the hearts of the
people, resolved to make the best use of it as long as
it should last. And the general's credit being raised
to a great height at home by our success in Flan-
ders, the Dutch began their gradual impositions ;
lessening their quotas, breaking their stipulations,
garrisoning the towns we took for them without
supplying their troops; with many other infringe-
ments; all which were we forced to submit to,
because the general was made easy; because the
moneyed men at home were fond of the war; be-
cause the Whigs were not yet firmly settled; and
because that exorbitant degree of power which was
built upon a supposed necessity of employing par-
ticular persons would go off in a peace. It is
needless to add that the emperor and other princes
followed the example of the Dutch, and succeeded
as well, for the same reasons.
I have here imputed the continuance of the war
to the mutual indulgence between our general and
allies, wherein they both so well found their ac-
counts; to the fears of the money-changers, lest
their tables should be overthrown; to the designs of
the Whigs, who apprehended the loss of their credit
and employments in a peace; and to those at home,
who held their immoderate engrossments of power
and favour by no other tenure than their own pre-
sumption upon the necessity of affairs. The truth
of this will appear indisputable, by considering with
what unanimity and concert these several parties
acted toward that great end.
When the vote passed in the house of lords against
any peace without Spain being restored to the Aus-
trian family, the earl of Wharton told the house that
it was indeed impossible and impracticable to re-
cover Spain; but, however, there were certain rea-
sons why such a vote should be made at that time.
Which reasons wanted no explanation ; for the
general and the ministry, having refused to accept
very advantageous offers of a peace after the battle
of Ramilies, were forced to take in a set of men with
a previous bargain to screen them from the conse-
quences of that miscarriage. And accordingly, upon
the first succeeding opportunity that fell, which was
that of the prince of Denmark'sa death, the chief
a Prince George, the husband of queen Anne.
422
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
leaders of the party were brought into several great
employments.
Thus, when the queen was no longer able to bear
the tyranny and insolence of those ungrateful ser-
vants, who as they waxed the fatter did but kick the
more, our two great allies abroad and our stock-
jobbers at home took immediate alarm; applied the
nearest way to the throne, by memorials and mes-
sages jointly, directing her majesty not to change
her secretary or treasurer, who, for the true reasons
that these officious intermeddlers demanded their
continuance, ought never to have been admitted
into the least degree of trust; since what they did
was nothing less than betraying the interest of their
native country to those princes, who, in their turns,
were to do what they could to support them in power
at home.
Thus it plainly appears that there was a con-
spiracy on all sides to go on with those measures
which must perpetuate the war; and a conspiracy
founded upon the interest and ambition of each
party; which begat so firm a union that, instead of
wondering why it lasted so long, I am astonished to
think how it came to be broken. The prudence,
courage, and firmness of her majesty, in all the steps
of that great change, would, if the particulars were
truly related, make a very shining part in her story;
nor is her judgment less to be admired, which di-
rected her in the choice of perhaps the only persons
who had skill, credit, and resolution enough to be
her instruments in overthrowing so many diffi-
culties.
Some would pretend to lessen the merit of this
by telling us that the rudeness, the tyranny, the op-
pression, the ingratitude of the late favourites to-
wards their mistress were no longer to be borne.
They produce instances to show her majesty was
pursued through all her retreats, particularly at
Windsor, where, after the enemy had possessed
themselves of every inch of ground, they at last at-
tacked and stormed the castle, forcing the queen to
fly to an adjoining cottage, pursuant to the advice of
Solomon, who tells us "It is better to live on the
house-top than with a scolding woman in a large
house." They would have it that such continued
ill usage was enough to inflame the meekest spirit.
They blame the favourites in point of policy, and
think it nothing extraordinary that the queen should
be at the end of her patience, and resolve to discard
them. But I am of another opinion, and think their
proceedings were right. For nothing is so apt to
break even the bravest spirits as a continual chain of
oppressions; one injury is best defended by a second,
and this by a third. By these steps the old masters
of the palace in France became masters of that king-
dom; a and by these steps, a general during plea-
sure might have grown into a general for life, and
a general for life into a king. So that I still insist
upon it as a wonder how her majesty, thus besieged
on all sides, was able to extricate herself.
Having thus mentioned the real causes, although
disguised under species pretences, which have so
long continued the war, I must beg leave to reason
a little with those persons who are against any
peace but what they call a good one, and explain
themselves that no peace can be good without an
entire restoration of Spain to the house of Austria.
It is to be supposed that what I am to say upon this
part of the subject will have little influence on those
whose particular ends or designs of any sort lead
them to wish the continuance of the war: I mean
the general and our allies abroad, the knot of late
favourites at home, the body of such as traffic in
a See the Tale of a Tub.
stocks, and lastly that set of factious politicians
who were so violently bent at least upon clipping
our constitution in church and state. Therefore I
shall not apply myself to any of those, but to all
others indifferently, whether Whigs or Tories, whose
private interest is best answered by the welfare of
their country. And if among these there be any
who think we ought to fight on till king Charles be
quietly settled in the monarchy of Spain, I believe
there are several points which they have not tho-
roughly considered.
For first, it is to be observed that this resolution.
against any peace without Spain is a new incident,
grafted upon the original quarrel by the intrigues of
a faction among us, who prevailed to give it the
sanction of a vote in both houses of parliament, to
justify those whose interest lay in perpetuating the
war. And as this proceeding was against the prac-
tice of all princes and states whose intentions were
fair and honourable, so is it contrary to common
prudence, as well as justice; I might add that it was
impious too, by presuming to control events which
are only in the hands of God. Ours and the States'
complaint against France and Spain are deduced in
each of our declarations of war, and our pretensions
specified in the eighth article of the grand alliance;
but there is not in any of these the least mention of
demanding Spain for the house of Austria, or of re-
fusing any peace without that condition. Having
already made an extract from both declarations of
war, I shall here give a translation of the eighth arti-
cle in the grand alliance, which will put this matter
out of dispute.
THE EIGHTH ARTICLE OF THE GRAND ALLIANCE.
When the war is once undertaken, none of the
parties shall have the liberty to enter upon a treaty
of peace with the enemy but jointly and in concert
with the other. Nor is peace to be made without
having first obtained a just and reasonable satisfac-
tion for his Cæsarean majesty, and for his royal ma-
jesty of Great Britain, and a particular security to
the lords of the States-General of their dominions,
provinces, titles, navigation, and commerce; and a
sufficient provision that the kingdoms of France and
Spain be never united, or come under the govern-
ment of the same person, or that the same man may
never be king of both kingdoms: and particularly
that the French may never be in possession of the
Spanish West Indies; and that they may not have
the liberty of navigation, for conveniency of trade,
under any pretence whatsoever, neither directly nor
indirectly, except it is agreed that the subjects of
Great Britain and Holland may have full power to
use and enjoy all the same privileges, rights, immuni-
ties, and liberties of commerce, by land and sea, in
Spain, in the Mediterranean, and in all the places
and countries which the late king of Spain at the
time of his death was in possession of, as well in
Europe as elsewhere, as they did then use and en-
joy; or which the subjects of both or each nation
could use and enjoy by virtue of any right obtained
before the death of the said king of Spain, either by
treaties, conventions, custom, or any other way what-
soever.
Here we see the demands intended to be insisted
on by the allies upon any treaty of peace are a just
and reasonable satisfaction for the emperor and king
of Great Britain, a security to the States-General
for their dominions, &c., and a sufficient provision
that France and Spain be never united under the
same man as king of both kingdoms. The rest re-
lates to the liberty of trade and commerce for us and
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
423
the Dutch, but not a syllable of engaging to dis-
possess the duke of Anjou.
But to know how this new language, of no
peace without Spain, was first introduced and at last
prevailed among us, we must begin a great deal higher.
It was the partition treaty which begot the will
in favour of the duke of Anjou; for this naturally
led the Spaniards to receive a prince supported by a
great power, whose interest as well as affection en-
gaged them to preserve that monarchy entire rather
than to oppose him in favour of another family, who
must expect assistance from a number of confeder-
ates whose principal members had already disposed
of what did not belong to them and by a previous
treaty parcelled out the monarchy of Spain.
Thus the duke of Anjou got into the full pos-
session of all the kingdoms and states belonging to
that monarchy, as well in the old world as the new.
And whatever the house of Austria pretended from
their memorials to us and the States, it was at that
time but too apparent that the inclinations of the
Spaniards were on the duke's side.
However, a war was resolved on; and in order to
carry it on with great vigour, a grand alliance formed,
wherein the ends proposed to be obtained are plainly
and distinctly laid down as I have already quoted
them. It pleased God, in the course of this war, to
bless the arms of the allies with remarkable suc-
cesses; by which we were soon put into a condition.
of demanding and expecting such terms of a peace
as we proposed to ourselves when we began the war.
But instead of this, our victories only served to lead
us on to further visionary prospects; advantage was
taken of the sanguine temper which so many suc-
cesses had wrought the nation up to; new romantic
views were proposed, and the old, reasonable, sober
design was forgot.
This was the artifice of those here who were sure
to grow richer as the public became poorer, and
who, after the resolutions which the two houses
were prevailed upon to make, might have carried
on the war with safety to themselves till malt and
land were mortgaged, till a general excise was esta-
blished and the dixième denier raised by collectors.
in red coats. And this was just the circumstance
which it suited their interests to be in.
The house of Austria, approved this scheme with
reason, since whatever would be obtained by the
blood and treasure of others was to accrue to that
family, while they only lent their name to the cause.
The Dutch might, perhaps, have grown resty
under their burden; but care was likewise taken of
that, by a barrier-treaty made with the States, which
deserves such epithets as I care not to bestow, but
may perhaps consider it, at a proper occasion, in a
discourse by itself.
By this treaty the condition of the war with re-
spect to the Dutch was widely altered; they fought
no longer for security but for grandeur, and we,
instead of labouring to make them safe, must beggar
ourselves to make them formidable.
Will any one contend that, if at the treaty of
Gertruydenberg we could have been satisfied with
such terms of a peace as we proposed to ourselves
by the grand alliance, the French would not have
allowed them? It is plain they offered many more,
and much greater, than ever we thought to insist on
when the war began; and they had reason to grant
as well as we to demand them, since conditions of
peace do certainly turn upon events of war. But
surely there is some measure to be observed in this;
those who have defended the proceedings of our nego-
tiators at the treaty of Gertruydenberg dwell very
much upon their zeal and patience in endeavouring to
work the French up to their demands, but say no-
thing to justify those demande, or the probability
Some of the
that France would ever accept them.
articles in that treaty were so extravagant that, in
all human probability, we could not have obtained
them by a successful war of forty years. One of
them was inconsistent with common reason; where-
in the confederates reserved to themselves full liberty
of demanding what farther conditions they should
think fit; and, in the mean time, France was to
deliver up several of their strongest towns in a
month. These articles were very gravely signed by
our plenipotentiaries and those of Holland; but not
by the French, although it ought to have been done
interchangeably; nay, they were brought over by
the secretary of the embassy, and the ministers
here prevailed on the queen to execute a ratification
of articles which only one part had signed. This
was an absurdity in form as well as in reason; be-
cause the usual form of a ratification is with a pre-
amble, showing that, whereas our ministers and
those of the allies and of the enemy have signed, &c.,
we ratify, &c. The person who brought over the
articles said in all companies (and perhaps believed)
that it was a pity we had not demanded more, for
the French were in a disposition to refuse us nothing
we would ask. One of our plenipotentiaries affect-
ed to have the same concern, and particularly that
we had not obtained some further security for the
empire on the Upper Rhine.
What could be the design of all this grimace but
to amuse the people and to raise stocks for their
friends in the secret to sell to advantage? I have
too great a respect for the abilities of those who
acted in this negotiation to believe they hoped for
any other issue from it than what we found by the
event. Give me leave to suppose the continuance
of the war was the thing at heart among those in
power both abroad and at home; and then I can
easily show the consistency of their proceedings,
otherwise they are wholly unaccountable and absurd.
Did those who insisted on such wild demands ever
intend a peace? Did they really think that going
on with the war was more eligible for their country
than the least abatement of those conditions? Was
the smallest of them worth six millions a-year and
a hundred thousand men's lives? Was there no
way to provide for the safety of Britain or the se-
curity of its trade, but by the French king turning
his arms to beat his grandson out of Spain? If these
able statesmen were so truly concerned for our
trade, which they made the pretence of the war's
beginning as well as continuance, why did they so
neglect it in those very preliminaries where the
enemy made so many concessions, and where all
that related to the advantage of Holland, or the
other confederates, was expressly settled? But
| whatever concerned us was to be left to a general
treaty; no tariff agreed on with France or the Low
Countries, only the Schelde was to remain shut,
which must have ruined our commerce with Ant-
werp. Our trade with Spain was referred the same
way; but this they will pretend to be of no conse-
quence, because that kingdom was to be under the
house of Austria, and we had already made a treaty
with king Charles. I have indeed heard of a treaty
made by Mr. Stanhope with that prince for settling
our commerce with Spain; but, whatever it were,
there was another between us and Holland, which
went hand and hand with it,-I mean that of bar-
rier, wherein a clause was inserted by which all ad-
vantages proposed for Britain are to be in common
with Holland.
A Horatio Walpole, secretary to that embassy.
424
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
Another point, which I doubt those have not con-
sidered who are against any peace without Spain, is
that the face of affairs in Christendom, since the
emperor's death, has been very much changed. By
this accident the views and interests of several
princes and states in the alliance have taken a new
turn, and I believe it will be found that ours ought
to do so too. We have sufficiently blundered once
already, by changing our measures with regard to a
peace while our affairs continued in the same pos-
ture; and it will be too much in conscience to
blunder again, by not changing the first; when the
others are so much altered.
To have a prince of the Austrian family on the
throne of Spain is undoubtedly more desirable than
one of the house of Bourbon, but to have the empire
and Spanish monarchy united in the same person is
a dreadful consideration, and directly opposite to
that wise principle on which the eighth article of
the alliance is founded.
To this perhaps it will be objected that the in-
dolent character of the Austrian princes, the wretched
economy of that government, the want of a naval
force, the remote distances of their several territories
from each other, would never suffer an emperor,
although at the same time king of Spain, to become
formidable on the contrary, that his dependence
must continually be on Great Britain, and the ad-
vantages of trade, by a peace founded upon that
condition, would soon make us amends for all the
expenses of the war.
In answer to this, let us consider the circumstances
we must be in before such a peace could be obtained,
if it were at all practicable. We must become not
only poor for the present, but reduced by further
mortgages to a state of beggary for endless years to
come. Compare such a weak condition as this with
so great an accession of strength to Austria, and then
determine how much an emperor in such a state of
affairs would either fear or need Britain.
Consider that the comparison is not formed be-
tween a prince of the house of Austria, emperor and
king of Spain, and with a prince of the Bourbon
family, king of France and Spain, but between a
prince of the latter, only king of Spain, and one of
the former uniting both crowns in his own person.
What returns of gratitude can we expect when we
are no longer wanted? Has all that we have hitherto
done for the imperial family been taken as a favour,
or only received as the due of the augustissima casa?
Will the house of Austria yield the least acre of
land, the least article of strained and even usurped
prerogative, to resettle the minds of those princes in
the alliance who are alarmed at the consequences of
this turn of affairs, occasioned by the emperor's
death? We are assured it never will. Do we then
imagine that those princes who dread the overgrown
power of the Austrian as much as that of the Bour-
bon family will continue in our alliance upon a
system contrary to that which they engage with us
upon? For instance, what can the duke of Savoy
expect in such a case? Will he have any choice
left him but that of being a slave and a frontier to
France, or a vassal, in the utmost extent of the word,
to the imperial court? Will he not therefore of the
Will he not therefore of the
two evils choose the least, by submitting to a master
who has no immediate claim upon him, and to whose
family he is nearly allied, rather than to another who
has already revived several claims upon him and
threatens to revive more?
Nor are the Dutch more inclined than the rest of
Europe that the empire and Spain should be united
in king Charles, whatever they may now pretend.
On the contrary, it is known to several persons that
upon the death of the late emperor Joseph the States
resolved that those two powers should not be joined
in the same person, and this they determined as a
fundamental inaxim by which they intended to pro-
ceed. So that Spain was first given up by them;
and since they maintain no troops in that kingdom,
it should seem that they understand the duke of
Anjou to be lawful monarch.
Thirdly, those who are against any peace without
Spain, if they be such as no way find their private
account by the war, may perhaps change their sen-
timents if they will reflect a little upon our present
condition.
I had two reasons for not sooner publishing this
discourse; the first was, because I would give way
to others, who might argue very
to others, who might argue very well upon the same
subject from general topics and reason, although
they might be ignorant of several facts which I had
the opportunity to know. The second was, because
I found it would be necessary, in the course of this
argument, to say something of the state to which
the war has reduced us; at the same time I knew
that such a discovery ought to be made as late as
possible, and at another juncture would not only be
very indiscreet, but might perhaps be dangerous.
It is the folly of too many to mistake the echo of
a London coffeehouse for the voice of the kingdom.
The city coffeehouses have been for some years
filled with people whose fortunes depend upon the
bank, East India, or some other stock. Every new
fund to these is like a new mortgage to a usurer,
whose compassion for a young heir is exactly the
same with that of a stock-jobber to the landed gentry.
At the court end of the town, the like places of re-
sort are frequented either by men out of place, and
consequently enemies to the present ministry, or by
officers of the army: no wonder then if the general
cry in all such meetings be against any peace, either
with Spain or without, which in other words is no
more than this, that discontented men desire another
change of ministry; that soldiers would be glad
to keep their commissions; and that the creditors
have money still, and would have the debtors borrow
on at the old extorting rate while they have any
security to give.
This
Now to give the most ignorant reader some idea
of our present circumstances without troubling him
or myself with computations in form; everybody
knows that our land and malt tax amount annually
to about two millions and a half. All other branches
of the revenue are mortgaged to pay interest for
what we have already borrowed. The yearly charge
of the war is usually about six millions, to make up
which sum we are forced to take up on the credit
of new funds about three millions and a half.
last year the computed charge of the war came to
above a million more than all the funds the parlia-
ment could contrive were sufficient to pay interest
for, and so we have been forced to divide a deficiency
of twelve hundred thousand pounds among the several
branches of our expense. This is a demonstration
that, if the war be to last another campaign, it will
be impossible to find funds for supplying it without
mortgaging the malt-tax, or by some other method
equally desperate.
If the peace be made this winter, we are then to
consider what circumstances we shall be in toward
paying a debt of about fifty millions, which is a
fourth part of the purchase of the whole island if
it were to be sold.
Toward clearing ourselves of this monstrous in-
cumbrance, some of these annuities will expire or
pay off the principal in thirty, forty, or a hundred
years; the bulk of the debt must be lessened gradu-
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
425
ally by the best management we can, out of what
will remain of the land and malt taxes, after paying
guards and garrisons, and maintaining and supplying
our fleet in the time of peace. I have not skill
enough to compute what will be left after these ne-
cessary charges toward annually clearing so vast a
debt, but believe it must be very little; however, it
is plain that both these taxes must be continued, as
well for supporting the government as because we
have no other means for paying off the principal.
And so likewise must all the other funds remain for
paying the interest. How long a time this must re-
quire, how steady an administration, and how undis-
turbed a state of affairs both at home and abroad,
let others determine.
However, some people think all this very reason-
able, and that, since the struggle has been for peace
and safety, posterity, which is to partake of the
benefit, ought to share in the expense, as if at the
breaking out of this war there had been such a con-
juncture of affairs as never happened before, nor
would ever happen again. It is wonderful that our
ancestors, in all their wars, should never fall under
such a necessity; that we meet no examples of it in
Greece and Rome; that no other nation in Europe
ever knew anything like it except Spain, about a
hundred and twenty years ago, when they drew it
upon themselves by their own folly and have suffered
for it ever since; no doubt we shall teach posterity
wisdom, but they will be apt to think the purchase
too dear, and I wish they may stand to the bargain
we have made in their names.
It is easy to entail debts on succeeding ages, and
to hope they will be able and willing to pay them;
but how to ensure peace for any term of years is
difficult enough to apprehend. Will human nature
ever cease to have the same passions, princes to
entertain designs of interest or ambition, and occa-
sions of quarrel to arise? May not we ourselves,
by the variety of events and incidents which happen
in the world, be under a necessity of recovering
towns out of the very hands of those for whom we
are now ruining our country to take them? Neither
can it be said that those states with whom we may
probably differ will be in as bad a condition as our-
selves; for by the circumstances of our situation
and the impositions of our allies, we are more ex-
hausted than either they or the enemy: and by the
nature of our government, the corruption of our
manners, and the opposition of factions, we shall be
more slow in recovering.
It will no doubt be a mighty comfort to our grand-
children, when they see a few rags hung up in West-
minster Hall which cost a hundred millions, whereof
they are paying the arrears, to boast as beggars do
that their grandfathers were rich and great.
I have often reflected on that mistaken notion of
credit so boasted of by the advocates of the late
ministry was not all that credit built upon funds
raised by the landed men whom they now so much
hate and despise? Is not the greatest part of those
funds raised from the growth and product of land?
Must not the whole debt be entirely paid, and our
fleets and garrisons be maintained, by the land and
malt tax after a peace? If they call it credit to run
ten millions in debt without parliamentary security,
by which the public is defrauded of almost half, I
must think such credit to be dangerous, illegal, and
perhaps treasonable. Neither has anything gone
further to ruin the nation than their boasted credit.
For
my own part, when I saw this false credit sink
upon the change of the ministry, I was singular
enough to conceive it a good omen. It seemed as if
the young extravagant heir had got a new steward,
|
|
and was resolved to look into his estate before things
grew desperate, which made the usurers forbear
feeding him with money as they used to do.
Since the moneyed men are so fond of war, I should
be glad they would furnish out one campaign at
their own charge; it is not above six or seven mil-
lions; and I dare engage to make it out, that when
they have done this, instead of contributing equal
to the landed men, they will have their full principa.
and interest at six per cent. remaining of all the
money they ever lent to the government.
Without this resource, or some other equally mi-
raculous, it is impossible for us to continue the war
upon the same foot. I have already observed that
the last funds of interest fell short above a million,
although the persons most conversant in ways and
means employed their utmost invention; so that of
necessity we must be still more defective next cam-
paign. But perhaps our allies will make up this
deficiency on our side by great efforts on their own!
Quite the contrary; both the emperor and Holland
failed this year in several articles, and signified to
us some time ago that they cannot keep up to the
same proportions in the next. We have gained a
noble barrier for the latter, and they have nothing
more to demand or desire. The emperor, however
sanguine he may now affect to appear, will I sup-
pose be satisfied with Naples, Sicily, Milan, and his
other acquisitions, rather than engage in a long,
hopeless war for the recovery of Spain, to which his
allies the Dutch will neither give their assistance nor
consent. So that, since we have done their business,
since they have no further service for our arms, and
we have no more money to give them, and lastly,
since we neither desire any recompence nor expect
any thanks, we ought in pity to be dismissed and
have leave to shift for ourselves. They are ripe for
a peace to enjoy and cultivate what we have con-
quered for them; and so are we to recover, if possible,
the effects of their hardships upon us. The first
overtures from France are made to England upon
safe and honourable terms; we, who bore the bur-
den of the war, ought in reason to have the greatest
share in making the peace. If we do not hearken
to a peace others certainly will, and get the ad-
vantage of us there, as they have done in the war.
We know the Dutch have perpetually threatened us
that they would enter into separate measures of a
peace, and by the strength of that argument, as well
as by other powerful motives, prevailed on those
who were then at the helm to comply with them on
any terms rather than put an end to a war which
every year brought them such great accessions to
their wealth and power.
Whoever falls off, a peace
will follow, and then we must be content with such
conditions as our allies, out of their great concern
for our safety and interest, will please to choose.
They have no further occasion for fighting, they
have gained their point, and they now tell us it is
our war; so that in common justice it ought to be
our peace.
All we can propose by the desperate steps of
pawning our land or malt tax, or erecting a general
excise, is only to raise a fund of interest for running
us annually four millions further in debt, without
any prospect of ending the war so well as we can
do at present. And when we have sunk the only
unengaged revenues we had left, our encumbrances
must of necessity remain perpetual.
We have hitherto lived upon expedients which in
time will certainly destroy any constitution, whether
civil or natural; and there was no country in Chris-
tendom had less occasion for them than ours.
have dieted a healthy body into a consumption, by
We
426
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
plying it with physic instead of food. Art will help
us no longer, and if we cannot recover by letting
the remains of nature work we must inevitably die.
What arts have been used to possess the people
with a strong delusion that Britain must infallibly
be ruined without the recovery of Spain to the house
of Austria! making the safety of a great and power-
ful kingdom, as ours was then, to depend upon an
event which after a war of miraculous successes
proves impracticable. As if princes and great mi-
nisters could find no way of settling the public tran-
quillity without changing the possessions of king-
doms, and forcing sovereigns upon a people against
their inclinations. Is there no security for the
island of Britain unless a king of Spain be de-
throned by the hands of his grandfather? Has the
enemy no cautionary towns and seaports to give us
for securing trade? Can he not deliver us posses-
sion of such places as would put him in a worse
condition whenever he should perfidiously renew
the war? The present king of France has but few
years to live by the course of nature, and doubtless
would desire to end his days in peace. Grand-
fathers, in private families, are not observed to have
great influence on their grandsons, and I believe
they have much less among princes; however, when
the authority of a parent is gone, is it likely that
Philip will be directed by a brother against his own
interest and that of his subjects? Have not those
two realms their separate maxims of policy, which
must operate in the times of peace? These at least
are probabilities, and cheaper by six millions a-year
than recovering Spain or continuing the war, both
which seem absolutely impossible.
But the common question is, if we must now sur-
render Spain, what have we been fighting for all this
while? The answer is ready: we have been fight-
ing for the ruin of the public interest and the ad-
vancement of a private. We have been fighting to
raise the wealth and grandeur of a particular family,
to enrich usurers and stockjobbers, and to cultivate
the pernicious designs of a faction by destroying the
landed interest. The nation begins now to think
these blessings are not worth fighting for any longer,
and therefore desires a peace.
But the advocates on the other side cry out that
we might have had a better peace than is now in
agitation above two years ago. Supposing this to
be true, I do assert that, by parity of reason, we
must expect one just so much the worse about two
years hence.
If those in power could then have
given us a better peace, more is their infamy and
guilt that they did it not. Why did they insist
upon conditions which they were certain would
never be granted? We allow it was in their power
to have put a good end to the war, and left the na-
tion in some hope of recovering itself. And this is
what we charge them with, as answerable to God,
their country, and posterity,-that the bleeding con-
dition of their fellow-subjects was a feather in the
balance with their private ends.
When we offer to lament the heavy debts and po-
verty of the nation, it is pleasant to hear some men
answer all that can be said by crying up the power of
England, the courage of England, the inexhaustible
riches of England. I have heard a man [lord
Halifax], very sanguine upon this subject, with a
good employment for life, and a hundred thousand
pounds in the funds, bidding us take courage, and
warranting that all would go well. This is the style
of men at ease, who lay heavy burdens upon others,
which they would not touch with one of their
fingers. I have known some people such ill com-
puters as to imagine the many millions in stocks
|
|
and annuities are so much real wealth in the nation;
whereas every farthing of it is entirely lost to us,
scattered in Holland, Germany, and Spain; and the
landed men who now pay the interest must at last
pay the principal.
Fourthly, Those who are against any peace with-
out Spain have, I doubt, been ill informed as to the
low condition of France, and the mighty conse.
quences of our successes. As to the first, it must be
confessed that after the battle of Ramilies the
French were so discouraged with their frequent
losses and so impatient for a peace, that their king
was resolved to comply upon any reasonable terms.
But when his subjects were informed of our exor-
bitant demands, they grew jealous of his honour,
and were unanimous to assist him in continuing the
war at any hazard rather than submit. This fully
restored his authority; and the supplies he has re-
ceived from the Spanish West Indies, which in all
are computed since the war to amount to four hun-
dred millions of livres, and all in specie, have en-
abled him to pay his troops. Besides, the money is
spent in his own country; and he has since waged
war in the most thrifty manner by acting on the de-
fensive; compounding with us every campaign for a
town, which costs us fifty times more than it is
worth, either as to the value or the consequences.
Then he is at no charge for a fleet further than pro-
viding privateers, wherewith his subjects carry on a
piratical war at their own expense, and he shares in
the profit, which has been very considerable to
France and of infinite disadvantage to us, not only
by the perpetual losses we have suffered, to an im-
mense value, but by the general discouragement of
trade, on which we so much depend. All this, con-
sidered with the circumstances of that government,
where the prince is master of the lives and fortunes
of so mighty a kingdom, shows that monarch not to
be so sunk in his affairs as we have imagined and
have long flattered ourselves with the hopes of.
Those who are against any peace without Spain
seem likewise to have been mistaken in judging our
victories and other successes to have been of greater
consequence than they really were.
When our armies take a town in Flanders, the
Dutch are immediately put into possession and we
at home make bonfires. I have sometimes pitied
the deluded people to see them squandering away
their fuel to so little purpose. For example: what
is it to us that Bouchain is taken, about which the
warlike politicians of the coffeehouse make such a
clutter? What though the garrison surrendered
prisoners of war and in sight of the enemy? We
are not now in a condition to be fed with points of
honour. What advantage have we but that of
spending three or four millions more to get another
town for the States, which may open them a new
country for contributions and increase the perqui-
sites of the general?
In that war of ten years under the late king, when
our commanders and soldiers were raw and unex-
perienced in comparison of what they are at present,
we lost battles and towns as well as we gained them
of late since those gentlemen have better learned
their trade; yet we bore up then, as the French do
now; nor was there anything decisive in their suc-
cesses: they grew weary as well as we, and at last
consented to a peace, under which we might have
been happy enough if it had not been followed by
that wise treaty of partition, which revived the flame
that has lasted ever since. I see nothing else in the
modern way of making war but that the side which
can hold out longest will end it with most advantage.
In such a close country as Flanders, where it is
THE CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
427
carried on by sieges, the army that acts offensively is
at a much greater expense of men and money, and
there is hardly a town taken in the common forms
where the besiegers have not the worst of the bar-
gain. I never yet knew a soldier who would not
affirm that any town might be taken if you were
content to be at the charge. If you will count upon
sacrificing so much blood and treasure, the rest is
all a regular established method which cannot fail.
When the king of France, in the times of his grandeur,
sat down before a town, his generals and engineers
would often fix the day when it should surrender :
the enemy, sensible of all this, has for some years past
avoided a battle where he has so ill succeeded, and
taken a surer way to consume us by letting our
courage evaporate against stones and rubbish, and
sacrificing a single town to a campaign, which he
can so much better afford to lose than we to take.
Lastly, Those who are so violently against any
peace without Spain's being restored to the house of
Austria have not, I believe, cast their eye upon a
cloud gathering in the north, which we have helped
to raise, and may quickly break in a storm upon our
heads.
The northern war has been on foot almost ever
since our breach with France. The success of it is
various; but one effect to be apprehended was al-
ways the same, that sooner or later it would involve
us in its consequences, and that whenever this
happened, let our success be ever so great against
France, from that moment France would have the
advantage.
By our guaranty of the treaty of Travendall, we
were obliged to hinder the king of Denmark from
engaging in a war with Sweden. It was at that
time understood by all parties, and so declared even
by the British ministers, that this engagement spe-
cially regarded Denmark's not assisting king Au-
gustus. But however if this had not been so, yet
our obligation to Sweden stood in force by virtue of
former treaties with that crown, which were all re-
vived and confirmed by a subsequent one concluded
at the Hague by sir Joseph Williamson and Mon-
sieur Lilienroot, about the latter end of the king's
reign.
However, the war in the north proceeded; and
our not assisting Sweden was at least as well ex-
cused by the war which we were entangled in as
his not contributing his contingent to the empire
whereof he is a member was excused by the pres-
sures he lay under, having a confederacy to deal
with.
In this war the king of Sweden was victorious;
and what dangers were we not then exposed to?
what fears were we not in? He marched into
Saxony, and, if he had really been in the French
interest, might at once have put us under the greatest
difficulties. But the torrent turned another way,
and he contented himself with imposing on his
enemy the treaty of Alt Rastadt; by which king
Augustus makes an absolute cession of the crown of
Poland, renounces any title to it, acknowledges
Stanislaus, and then both he and the king of Sweden
join in desiring the guaranty of England and Hol-
land. The queen did not, indeed, give this guaranty
in form; but as a step toward it, the title of king
was given to Stanislaus by a letter from her majesty,
and the strongest assurances were given to the
Swedish minister in her majesty's name, and in a
committee of council, that the guaranty should
speedily be granted, and that, in the mean while, it
was the same thing as if the forms were passed.
In 1708 king Augustus made the campaign in
Flanders: what measures he might at that time
take, or of what nature the arguments might be that
he made use of, is not known; but immediately after
he breaks through all he had done, marches into
Poland, and reassumes the crown.
After this we apprehended that the peace of the
empire might be endangered; and therefore entered
into an act of guaranty for the neutrality of it. The
king of Sweden refused, upon several accounts, to
submit to the terms of this treaty, particularly be-
cause we went out of the empire to cover Poland
and Jutland, but did not go out of it to cover the
territories of Sweden.
Let us therefore consider what is our case at pre-
sent. If the king of Sweden return, and get the
better, he will think himself under no obligation of
having any regard to the interests of the allies, but
will naturally pursue, according to his own expres-
sion, his enemy wherever he finds him. In this
case, the corps of the neutrality is obliged to oppose
him, and so we are engaged in a second war before
the first is ended.
If the northern confederates succeed against Swe-
den, how shall we be able to preserve the balance of
power in the north, so essential to our trade, as well
as in many other respects? What will become of
that great support of the protestant interest in
Germany which is the footing that the Swedes now
have in the empire? Or who shall answer that
these princes, after they have settled the north to
their minds, may not take a fancy to look south-
ward, and make our peace with France according to
their own schemes?
And lastly, if the king of Prussia, the elector of
Hanover, and other princes whose dominions lie
contiguous, are forced to draw from those armies
which act against France, we must live in hourly
expectation of having those troops recalled which
they now leave with us; and this recall may happen
in the midst of a siege, or on the eve of a battle.
Is it therefore our interest to toil on in a ruinous
war, for an impracticable end, till one of these
cases shall happen, or get under shelter before the
storm?
There is no doubt but the present ministry (pro-
vided they could get over the obligations of honour
and conscience) might find their advantage in ad-
vising the continuance of the war, as well as the last
did, although not in the same degree, after the king-
dom has been so much exhausted. They might
prolong it till the parliament desire a peace, and
in the mean time leave them in full possession of
power. Therefore it is plain that their proceedings
at present are meant to serve their country, directly
against their private interest; whatever clamour
may be raised by those who, for the vilest ends,
would move heaven and earth to oppose their mea-
But they think it infinitely better to accept
such terms as will secure our trade, find a sufficient
barrier for the States, give reasonable satisfaction to
the emperor, and restore the tranquillity of Europe,
although without adding Spain to the empire,
rather than go on in a languishing way, upon the
vain expectation of some improbable turn for the re-
covery of that monarchy out of the Bourbon family,
and at last be forced to a worse peace, by some of
the allies falling off, upon our utter inability to con-
tinue the war.
sures.
P.S. I have in this edition explained three or four
lines which mention the succession, to take off, if
possible, all manner of cavil; though, at the same
time, I cannot but observe how ready the adverse
party is to make use of any objections, even such as
destroy their own principles. I put a distant case of
the possibility that our succession, through extreme
428
SOME REMARKS ON
necessity, might be changed by the legislature in
future ages, and it is pleasant to hear those people
quarrelling at this who profess themselves for
changing it as often as they please, and that even
without the consent of the entire legislature.
SOME
REMARKS ON THE BARRIER
TREATY
Between
HER MAJESTY AND THE STATES-GENERAL;
To which are added,
The said Barrier Treaty, with the two separate Articles; part
of the Counter-project; the sentiments of Prince Eugene and
Count Zinzendorf upon the said Treaty; and a Representa-
tion of the English Merchants at Bruges.
PREFACE.
"The
WHEN I published the discourse called
Conduct of the Allies," I had thoughts either of
inserting or annexing the "Barrier Treaty" at
length, with such observations as I conceived might
be useful for public information; but that discourse
taking up more room than I designed, after my
utmost endeavours to abbreviate it, I contented my-
self only with making some few reflections upon
that famous treaty, sufficient as I thought to answer
the design of my book. I have since heard that my
readers in general seemed to wish I had been more
particular, and have discovered an impatience to
have that treaty made public, especially since it has
been laid before the house of commons.
That I may give some light to the reader who is
not well versed in those affairs, he may please to
know that a project for a treaty of barrier with the
States was transmitted hither from Holland, but
being disapproved of by our court in several parts, a
new project or scheme of a treaty was drawn up
here, with many additions and alterations. This
last was called the counter-project, and was the
measure whereby the duke of Marlborough and my
lord Townshend were commanded and instructed to
proceed in negotiating a treaty of barrier with the
States.
I have added a translation of this counter-project
in those articles where it differs from the barrier
treaty, that the reader by comparing them together
may judge how punctually those negotiators ob-
served their instructions. I have likewise subjoined
the sentiments of prince Eugene of Savoy and the
count de Zinzendorf, relating to this treaty, written
I suppose while it was negotiating. And lastly, I
have added a copy of the representation of the
British merchants at Bruges, signifying what incon-
veniences they already felt and further appre-
hended from this barrier treaty.
SOME REMARKS, &c.
IMAGINE a reasonable person in China reading the
following treaty, and one who was ignorant of our
affairs or our geography, he would conceive their
high mightinesses the states-general to be some vast
powerful commonwealth, like that of Rome, and her
majesty to be a petty prince, like one of those to
whom that republic would sometimes send a diadem
for a present, when they behaved themselves well,
otherwise could depose at pleasure and place whom
they thought fit in their stead. Such a man would
think that the States had taken our prince and us
into their protection, and in return honoured us so
far as to make use of our troops as some small
assistance in their conquests and the enlargement of
their empire, or to prevent the incursions of barba-
rians upon some of their out-lying provinces. But
how must it sound in a European ear, that Great
Britain, after maintaining a war for so many years
with so much glory and success and such prodigious
expense; after saving the empire, Holland, and
Portugal, and almost recovering Spain, should to-
ward the close of a war enter into a treaty with
seven Dutch provinces, to secure to them a dominion
larger than their own, which she had conquered for
them; to undertake for a great deal more, without
stipulating the least advantage for herself; and ac-
cept as an equivalent the mean condition of those
States assisting to preserve her queen on the throne,
whom, by God's assistance, she is able to defend
against all her majesty's enemies and allies put to-
gether?
Such a wild bargain could never have been made
for us if the States had not found it their interest to
use very powerful motives with the chief advisers
(I say nothing of the person immediately employed),
and if a party here at home had not been resolved,
for ends and purposes very well known, to continue
the war as long as they had any occasion for it.
The counter-project of this treaty, made here at
London, was bad enough in all conscience: I have
said something of it in the preface: her majesty's
ministers were instructed to proceed by it in their
negotiation. There was one point in that project
which would have been of consequence to Britain,
and one or two more where the advantages of the
States were not so very exorbitant, and where some
care was taken of the house of Austria. Is it possi
ble that our good allies and friends could not be
brought to any terms with us, unless by striking out
every particular that might do us any good and
adding still more to those whereby so much was al-
ready granted? For instance, the article about
demolishing of Dunkirk surely might have re-
mained, which was of some benefit to the States as
well as of mighty advantage to us, and which the
French king has lately yielded in one of his prelimi-
naries, although clogged with the demand of an
equivalent which will owe its difficulty only to this
treaty.
But let me now consider the treaty itself: among
the one-and-twenty articles of which it consists,
only two have any relation to us, importing that the
Dutch are to be guarantees of our succession, and
are not to enter into any treaty until the queen is
acknowledged by France. We know very well that
it is in consequence the interest of the States as
much as ours that Britain should be governed by a
protestant prince. Besides, what is there more in
this guaranty than in all common leagues, offensive
and defensive, between two powers, where each is
obliged to defend the other against any invader
with all their strength? Such was the grand alliance
between the emperor, Britain, and Holland, which
was, or ought to have been, as good a guaranty of
our succession to all intents and purposes as this in
the barrier treaty; and the mutual engagements in
such alliances have been always reckoned sufficient
without any separate benefit to either party.
It is, no doubt, for the interest of Britain that the
States should have a sufficient barrier against
France; but their high mightinesses, for some few
years past, have put a different meaning upon the
word barrier from what it formerly used to bear
when applied to them. When the late king was
prince of Orange, and commanded their armies
against France, it was never once imagined that any
THE BARRIER TREATY.
429
?
of the towns taken should belong to the Dutch
they were all immediately delivered up to their law-
ful monarch, and Flanders was only a barrier to
Holland as it was in the hands of Spain rather
than France. So in the grand alliance of 1701 the
several powers promising to endeavour to recover
Flanders for a barrier was understood to be the re-
covering of those provinces to the king of Spain;
but in this treaty the style is wholly changed: here
are about twenty towns and forts of great import-
ance, with their chattellanies and dependencies
(which dependencies are likewise to be enlarged as
much as possible), and the whole revenues of them
to be under the perpetual military government of the
Dutch, by which that republic will be entirely mas-
ters of the richest part of all Flanders, and upon any
appearance of war they may put their garrisons into
any other place of the Low Countries: and further,
the king of Spain is to give them a revenue of four
hundred thousand crowns a-year, to enable them to
maintain those garrisons.
Why should we wonder that the Dutch are in-
clined to perpetuate the war, when, by an article in
this treaty, the king of Spain is not to possess one
single town in the Low Countries until a peace be
made? The duke of Anjou, at the beginning of
this war, maintained six-and-thirty thousand men
out of those Spanish provinces he then possessed,
to which if we add the many towns since taken,
which were not in the late king of Spain's possession
at the time of his death, with all their territories and
dependencies, it is visible what forces the States may
be able to keep, even without any charge to their
peculiar dominions.
The towns and chattellanies of this barrier always
maintained their garrisons when they were in the
hands of France; and, as it is reported, returned a
considerable sum of money into the king's coffers;
yet the king of Spain is obliged by this treaty (as we
have already observed) to add, over and above, a
revenue of four hundred thousand crowns a-year.
We know likewise that a great part of the revenue
of the Spanish Netherlands is already pawned to the
States, so that after a peace nothing will be left to
the sovereign, nor will the people be much eased of
the taxes they at present labour under.
Thus the States, by virtue of this barrier treaty,
will in effect be absolute sovereigns of all Flanders,
and of the whole revenues in the utmost extent.
And here I cannot, without some contempt, take
notice of a sort of reasoning offered by several peo-
ple, that the many towns we have taken for the
Dutch are of no advantage, because the whole reve-
nue of those towns is spent in maintaining them.
For first, the fact is manifestly false, particularly as
to Lisle and some others. Secondly, the States after
a peace are to have four hundred thousand crowns
a-year out of the remainder of Flanders, which is
then to be left to Spain. And lastly, suppose all
these acquired dominions will not bring a penny
into their treasury, what can be of greater conse-
quence than to be able to maintain a mighty army
out of their new conquests, which before they always
did by taxing their natural subjects?
How shall we be able to answer it to king Charles
III. that, while we pretend to endeavour restoring
him to the entire monarchy of Spain, we join at the
same time with the Dutch to deprive him of his
natural right to the Low Countries?
But suppose by a Dutch barrier must now be
understood only what is to be in possession of the
States, yet, even under this acceptation of the word,
nothing was originally meant except a barrier against
France, whereas several towns demanded by the
Dutch in this treaty can be of no use at all in such a
barrier. And this is the sentiment even of Prince
Eugene himself (the present oracle and idol of the
party here), who says that Dendermond, Ostend, and
the Castle of Gand, do in no sort belong to the bar-
rier, nor can be of other use than to make the States-
General masters of the Low Countries, and hinder
their trade with England; and further that those
who are acquainted with the country know very
well that to
well that to fortify Lier and Halle can give no
security to the States as a barrier, but only raise a
jealousy in the people that those places are only for-
tified in order to block up Brussels and the other
great towns of Brabant.
In those towns of Flanders where the Dutch are
to have garrisons, but the ecclesiastical and civil
power to remain to the king of Spain after a peace,
the States have power to send arms, ammunition,
and victuals, without paying customs, under which
pretence they will engross the whole trade of those
towns, exclusive of all other nations.
This prince Eugene likewise foresaw, and in
his observations upon this treaty here annexed pro-
posed a remedy for it.
And if the Dutch shall please to think that the
whole Spanish Netherlands are not a sufficient bar-
rier for them, I know no remedy from the words of
this treaty but that we must still go on and conquer
for them as long as they please. For the queen is
obliged whenever a peace is treated to procure for
them whatever shall be thought necessary besides,
and where their necessity will terminate is not very
easy to foresee.
Could any of her majesty's subjects conceive that
in the towns we have taken for the Dutch, and given
into their possession as a barrier, either the States.
should demand or our ministers allow that the sub-
jects of Britain should, in respect to their trade, be
used worse than they were under the late king of
Spain? Yet this is the fact, as monstrous as it ap-
pears: all goods going to or coming from Newport
or Ostend are to pay the same duties as those that
pass by the Schelde under the Dutch forts; and
this, in effect, is to shut out all other nations from
trading to Flanders. The English merchants at
Bruges complain that, after they have paid the king
of Spain's duty for goods imported at Ostend, the
same goods are made liable to further duties when
they are carried thence into the towns of the Dutch
new conquests, and desire only the same privileges
of trade they had before the death of the late king
of Spain, Charles II. And in consequence of this
treaty, the Dutch have already taken off eight per
cent. from all goods they send to the Spanish Flan-
ders, but left it still upon us.
But what is very surprising, in the very same
article where our good friends and allies are wholly
shutting us out from trading in those towns we have
conquered for them with so much blood and trea-
sure, the queen is obliged to procure that the States
shall be used as favourably in their trade over all the
king of Spain's dominions as her own subjects or as
the people most favoured. This I humbly conceive
to be perfect boys'-play: "Cross I win, and pilea you
lose," or "What's yours is mine, and what's mine
is my own." Now, if it should happen that in a
treaty of peace some
treaty of peace some ports or towns should be
yielded us for the security of our trade, in any part
of the Spanish dominions, at how great a distance
soever, I suppose the Dutch would go on with their
boys'-play and challenge half by virtue of that article :
or would they be content with military government
• The two sides of our coin were once nominally distinguished
by cross and pile, as they are now by heads and tails.
430
SOME REMARKS ON
and the revenues, and reckon them among what
shall be thought necessary for their barrier?
This prodigious article is introduced as subsequent
to the treaty of Munster, made about the year 1648,
at a time when England was in the utmost confusion,
and very much to our disadvantage. Those parts
in that treaty, so unjust in themselves and so preju-
dicial to our trade, ought in reason to have been re-
mitted rather than confirmed upon us for the time to
come. But this is Dutch partnership; to share in
all our beneficial bargains and exclude us wholly
from theirs, even from those which we have got for
them.
In one part of the Conduct of the Allies, among
other remarks upon this treaty, I make it a question
whether it were right in point of policy or prudence
to call in a foreign power to be a guarantee to our
succession; because by that means we put it out of
the power of our legislature to alter the succession,
how much soever the necessity of the kingdom may
require it? To comply with the cautions of some
people I explained my meaning in the following
editions. I was assured that my lord chief-justice
affirmed that passage was treason. One of my an-
swerer's, I think, decides as favourably; and I am
told that paragraph was read very lately during a
debate, with a comment in very injurious terms,
which perhaps might have been spared. That the
legislature should have power to change the succes-
sion, whenever the necessities of the kingdom re-
quire, is so very useful toward preserving our reli-
gion and liberty, that I know not how to recant.
The worst of this opinion is, that at first sight it
appears to be whiggish; but the distinction is thus :
the Whigs are for changing the succession when they
think fit, although the entire legislature do not con-
sent; I think it ought never to be done but upon
great necessity, and that with the sanction of the
whole legislature. Do these gentlemen of revolution
principles think it impossible that we should ever
have occasion again to change our succession? and
if such an accident should fall out, must we have no
remedy until the Seven Provinces will give their
consent? Suppose that this virulent party among us
were as able as some are willing to raise a rebellion
for reinstating them in power, and would apply
themselves to the Dutch, as guarantees of our suc-
cession, to assist them with all their force under
pretence that the queen and ministry, a great ma-
jority of both houses, and the bulk of the people,
were for bringing over France, popery, and the
pretender? Their high mightinesses would, as I
take it, be sole judges of the controversy, and pro-
bably decide it so well that in some time we might
have the happiness of becoming a province to Hol-
land. I am humbly of opinion that there are two
qualities necessary to a reader before his judgment
should be allowed; these are. common honesty and
common sense, and that no man could have mis-
represented that paragraph in my discourse unless
he were utterly destitute of one or both.
The presumptive successor and her immediate
heirs have so established a reputation in the world
for their piety, wisdom, and humanity, that no ne-
cessity of this kind is likely to appear in their days;
but I must still insist that it is a diminution to the
independency of the imperial crown of Great Bri-
tain to call at every door for help to put our laws in
execution. And we ought to consider that, if in ages
to come such a prince should happen to be in suc-
cession to our throne as should be entirely unable to
govern, that very motive might incline our guaran-
tees to support him, the more effectually to bring
the rivals of their trade into confusion and disorder.
But to return: the queen is here put under the
unreasonable obligation of being guarantee of the
whole barrier treaty; of the Dutch having possession
of the said barrier and the revenues thereof before
a peace; of the payment of four hundred thousand
crowns by the king of Spain; that the States shall
possess their barrier even before king Charles is in
possession of the Spanish Netherlands, although by
the fifth article of the grand alliance her majesty is
under no obligation to do anything of this nature
except in a general treaty.
All kings, princes, and states, are invited to enter
into this treaty, and to be guarantees of its execution.
This article, though very frequent in treaties, seems
to look very oddly in that of the barrier.
Popish
princes are here invited among others to become
guarantees of our protestant succession: every petty
prince in Germany must be entreated to preserve the
queen of Great Britain upon her throne. The king
of Spain is invited particularly, and by name, to be-
come guarantee of the execution of a treaty by
which his allies, who pretend to fight his battles and
recover his dominions, strip him in effect of all his
ten provinces; a clear reason why they never sent
any forces to Spain, and why the obligation not to
enter into a treaty of peace with France until that
entire monarchy was yielded as a preliminary was
struck out of the counter-project by the Dutch.
They fought only in Flanders because there they
only fought for themselves. King Charles must
needs accept this invitation very kindly, and stand
by with great satisfaction while the Belgic lion
divides the prey and assigns it all to himself.
member there was a parcel of soldiers who robbed a
farmer of his poultry, and then made him wait at
table while they devoured his victuals without giving
him a morsel, and upon his expostulating had only
for answer, "Why,
Why, sirrah, are we not come here
to protect you?" And thus much for this generous
invitation to all kings and princes to lend their assist-
ance, and become guarantees out of pure good nature
for securing Flanders to the Dutch.
I re-
In the treaty of Ryswick no care was taken to
oblige the French king to acknowledge the right of
succession in her present majesty; for want of which
point being then settled, France refused to acknow-
ledge her for queen of Great Britain after the late
king's death. This unaccountable neglect (if it were
a neglect) is here called an omission, and care is
taken to supply it in the next general treaty of peace.
I mention this occasionally, because I have some
stubborn doubts within me whether it were a wilful
omission or not.
omission or not. Neither do I herein reflect in the
least upon the memory of his late majesty, whom I
entirely acquit of any imputation upon this matter.
But when I recollect the behaviour, the language,
and the principles of some certain persons in those
days, and compare them with that omission, I am
tempted to draw some conclusions which a certain
party would be more ready to call false and malicious
than to prove them so.
I must here take leave (because it will not other-
wise fall in my way) to say a few words in return to
a gentleman, I know not of what character or call-
ing, who has done me the honour to write three dis-
courses against that treatise of The Conduct of the
Allies, &c., and promises for my comfort to con
clude all in a fourth. I pity answerers with all my
heart for the many disadvantages they lie under.
My book did a world of mischief (as he calls it) be-
fore his First Part could possibly come out, and so
went on through the kingdom while his limped slowly
after, and if it arrived at all was too late, for people's
opinions were already fixed. His manner of an-
THE BARRIER TREATY.
431
swering me is thus: Of those facts which he pre-
tends to examine some he resolutely denies, others
he endeavours to extenuate, and the rest he distorts
with such unnatural terms that I would engage by
the same method to disprove any history, either an-
cient or modern. Then the whole is interlarded
with a thousand injurious epithets and appellations,
which heavy writers are forced to make use of as a
supply for that want of spirit and genius they are
not born to: yet after all he allows a very great
point for which I contend, confessing in plain words
that the burden of the war has chiefly lain upon us;
and thinks it sufficient for the Dutch that, next to
England, they have borne the greatest share. And
is not this the great grievance of which the whole
kingdom complains? I am inclined to think that
my intelligence was at least as good as his, and some
of it I can assure him came from persons of his own
party, although perhaps not altogether so inflamed.
Hitherto therefore the matter is pretty equal, and
the world may believe him or me as they please.
But I think the great point of controversy between
us is, whether the effects and consequences of things
follow better from his premises or mine? And there
I will not be satisfied unless he will allow the whole
advantage to be on my side. Here is a flourishing
kingdom brought to the brink of ruin by a most
successful and glorious war of ten years, under an
able, diligent, and loyal ministry, a most faithful,
just, and generous commander, and in conjunction
with the most hearty, reasonable, and sincere allies.
This is the case as that author represents it. I have
heard a story, I think is was of the duke of ***,
who, playing at hazard at the groom-porter's in much
company, held in a great many hands together, and
drew a huge heap of gold; but in the heat of play
never observed a sharper who came once or twice
under his arm and swept a great deal of it into his
hat, the company thought it had been one of his ser-
vants. When the duke's hand was out, they were
talking how much he had won. "Yes," said he,
"I held in very long; yet methinks I have won but
very little." They told him his servant had got the
rest in his hat, and then he found he was cheated.
It has been my good fortune to see the most im-
portant facts that I have advanced justified by the
public voice; which, let this author do what he can,
will incline the world to believe that I may be right
in the rest. And I solemnly declare that I have not
wilfully committed the least mistake. I stopped the
second edition, and made all possible inquiries
among those who I thought could best inform me,
in order to correct any error I could hear of; I did
the same to the third and fourth editions, and then
left the printer to his liberty. This I take for a more
effectual answer to all cavils than a hundred pages
of controversy.
But what disgusts me from having anything to do
with the race of answer-jobbers is, that they have no
sort of conscience in their dealings: to give one in-
stance in this gentleman's Third Part, which I have
been lately looking into. When I talk of the most
petty princes he says that I mean crowned heads;
when I say the soldiers of those petty princes are
ready to rob or starve at home, he says I call kings
and crowned heads robbers and highwaymen. This
is what the Whigs call answering a book.
I cannot omit one particular concerning this au-
thor, who is so positive in asserting his own facts
and contradicting mine: he affirms that the business
of Toulon was discovered by the clerk of a certain
great man who was then secretary of state. It is
neither wise nor for the credit of his party to put us
in mind of that secretary, or of that clerk; however,
so it happens, that nothing relating to the affair of
Toulon did ever pass through that secretary's office;
which I here affirm with great phlegm, leaving the
epithets of false, scandalous, villanous, and the rest
to the author and his fellows.
But to leave this author: let us consider the con-
sequences of our triumphs, upon which some set so
great a value as to think that nothing less than the
crown can be a sufficient reward for the merit of the
general. We have not enlarged our dominions by
one foot of land; our trade, which made us con-
siderable in the world, is either given up by treaties
or clogged with duties, which interrupt and daily
lessen it. We see the whole nation groaning under
excessive taxes of all sorts, to raise three millions of
money for payment of the interest of those debts we
have contracted. Let us look upon the reverse of
the medal; we shall see our neighbours, who in their
utmost distress called for our assistance, become by
this treaty, even in time of peace, masters of a more
considerable country than their own ;' in a condition
to strike terror into us, with fifty thousand veterans
ready to invade us from that country which we have
conquered for them, and to commit insolent hos-
tilities upon us in all other parts, as they have lately
done in the East Indies.
THE BARRIER TREATY BETWEEN HER MAJESTY AND
THE STATES GENERAL.
HER majesty the queen of Great Britain and the
lords the States General of the United Provinces,
having considered how much it concerns the quiet
and security of their kingdoms and states, and the
public tranquillity, to maintain and to secure on
one side the succession to the crown of Great Bri-
tain in such manner as it is now established by the
laws of the kingdom; and on the other side, that
the States General of the United Provinces should
have a strong and sufficient barrier against France
and others who would surprise or attack them; and
her majesty and the said States General apprehend-
ing, with just reason, the troubles and the mischiefs
which may happen in relation to this succession if
at any time there should be any person or any power
who should call it in question; and that the coun-
tries and states of the said lords the States General
were not furnished with such a barrier:-for these
said reasons her said majesty the queen of Great
Britain, although in the vigour of her age and en-
joying perfect health (in which may God preserve
her many years!), out of an effect of her usual pru-
dence and piety, has thought fit to enter with the
lords the States General of the United Provinces
into a particular alliance and confederacy, the prin-
cipal end and only aim of which shall be the public
quiet and tranquillity, and to prevent, by measures
taken in time, all the events which might one day
excite new wars. It is with this view that her
British majesty has given her full power to agre
upon some articles of a treaty, in addition to the
treaties and alliances that she hath already with the
lords the States General of the United Provinces, to
her ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary,
Charles viscount Townshend, baron of Lynn-Regis,
privy counsellor of her British majesty, captain of
her said majesty's yeoman of the guard, and her
lieutenant in the county of Norfolk; and the lords
the States General of the United Provinces, to the
sieurs John de Weldern, lord of Valburg, great
bailiff of the Lower Betewe, of the body of the no-
bility of the province of Guelder; Frederick, baron of
Reede, lord of Lier, St. Anthony, and T'er Lee, of
the order of the nobility of the province of Holland
and West Friesland; Anthony Heinsius, counsellor-
432
SOME REMARKS ON
pensionary of the province of Holland and West
Friesland, keeper of the great seal, and superin-
tendent of the fiefs of the same province; Cornelius
Van Gheel, lord of Spranbrook, Bulkesteyn, &c.;
Gedeon Hoeuft, canon of the chapter of the church
of St. Peter at Utrecht, aud elected counsellor in
the states of the province of Utrecht; Hassal Van
Sminia, secretary of the chamber of the accounts of
the province of Friesland; Ernest Ittersum, lord of
Osterbof, of the body of the nobility of the province
of Overyssel; and Wicher Wichers, senator of the
city of Groningen; all deputies to the assembly of
the said lords of the States General on the part re-
spectively of the provinces of Guelder, Holland, West
Friesland, Zeland, Utrecht, Friesland, Overyssel,
and Groningen, and Ommelands; who, by virtue of
their full powers, have agreed upon the following
articles :-
ART. I. The treaties of peace, friendship, alli-
ance, and confederacy, between her Britannic majesty
and the States General of the United Provinces,
shall be approved and confirmed by the present
treaty, and shall remain in their former force and
vigour as if they were inserted word for word.
shall be made safe by means of this barrier, the
queen of Great Britain will use her endeavours to
procure that in the treaty of peace it may be agreed
that all the Spanish Low Countries, and what else
may be found necessary, whether conquered or un-
conquered places, shall serve as a barrier to the
States.
ART. VI. That to this end their high mighti-
nesses shall have the liberty to put and keep gar-
rison, to change, augment, and diminish it as they
shall judge proper, in the places following: namely,
Newport, Furnes, with the fort of Knocke, Ypres,
Menin, the town and citadel of Lisle, Tournay and
its citadel, Conde, Valenciennes; and the places
which shall from henceforward be conquered from
France, Maubeuge, Charleroy, Namur and its citadel,
Lier, Halle, to fortify, the ports off Perle, Philippe,
Damme, the castle of Gand, and Dendermonde.
The fort of St. Donas, being joined to the fortifica-
tion of the Sluce, and being entirely incorporated
with it, shall remain and be yielded in property to
the States. The fort of Rhodenhuysen on this side
Gand shall be demolished.
ART. VII.-The States General may, in case of
an apparent attack or war, put as many troops as
they shall think necessary in all the towns, places,
and forts in the Spanish Low Countries, where the
reason of war shall require it.
ART. VIII.—They may likewise send into the
towns, forts, and places where they shall have their
garrisons, without any hinderance, and without
paying any duties, provisions, ammunitions of war,
arms and artillery, materials for the fortifications,
and all that shall be found convenient and necessary
for the said garrisons and fortifications.
ART. II.-The succession to the crown of England
having been settled by an act of parliament passed
the twelfth year of the reign of his late majesty king
William III., the title of which is, "An act for the
further limitation of the crown, and better securing
the rights and liberties of the subject ;" and lately,
in the sixth year of the reign of her present majesty,
the succession having been again established and
confirmed by another act made for the greater se-
curity of her majesty's person and government, and
the succession to the crown of Great Britain, &c.,
in the line of the most serene house of Hanover,
ART. IX.-The said States General shall also
and in the person of the princess Sophia, and of her
have liberty to appoint, in the towns, forts, and
heirs and successors, and descendants, male and
places of their barrier, mentioned in the foregoing
female, already born or to be born; and although
sixth article, where they may have garrisons, such
no power hath any right to oppose the laws made
governors and commanders, majors, and other of-
upon this subject by the crown and parliament officers, as they shall find proper, who shall not be
Great Britain; if it shall happen nevertheless, that
under any pretence, or by any cause whatever, any
person or any power or state may pretend to dis-
pute the establishment which the parliament hath
made of the aforesaid succession in the most serene
house of Hanover, to oppose the said succession, to
assist or favour those who may oppose it, whether
directly or indirectly, by open war, or by fomenting
seditions and conspiracies against her or him to
whom the crown of Great Britain shall descend,
according to the acts aforesaid; the States General
engage and promise to assist and maintain in the
said succession her or him to whom it shall belong
by virtue of the said acts of parliament, to assist them
in taking possession if they should not be in actual
possession, and to oppose those who would disturb
them in the taking of such possession, or in the
actual possession, of the aforesaid succession.
ART. III.-Her said majesty and the States Ge-
neral, in consequence of the fifth article of the alli-
ance concluded between the emperor, the late king
of Great Britain, and the States General, the 7th of
September, 1701, will employ all their force to re-
cover the rest of the Spanish Low Countries.
ART. IV.—And further, they will endeavour to
conquer as many towns and forts as they can, in
order to their being a barrier and security to the
said States.
ART. V.-And whereas, according to the ninth
article of the said alliance, it is to be agreed, among
other matters, how and in what manner the States
subject to any other orders, whatsoever they be, or
from whencesoever they may come, relating to the
security and military government of the said places,
but only to those of their high mightinesses (exclu-
sive of all others); still preserving the rights and
privileges, as well ecclesiastical as political, of king
Charles III.
ART. X.-That besides, the States shall have
liberty to fortify the said towns, places, and forts
which belong to them, and repair the fortifications
of them, in such manner as they shall judge neces-
sary; and further to do whatever shall be useful for
their defence.
ART. XI.-It is agreed that the States General
shall have all the revenues of the towns, places,
jurisdictions, and their dependencies, which they
shall have for their barrier from France, which were
not in the possession of the crown of Spain at the
time of the death of the late king Charles II.; and
besides, a million of livres shall be settled for the
payment of one hundred thousand crowns every
three months out of the clearest revenues of the
Spanish Low Countries, which the said king was
then in possession of; both which are for maintain-
ing the garrisons of the States, and for supplying the
fortifications, as also the magazines and other neces-
sary expenses in the towns and places above men-
tioned. And that the said revenues may be suf-
ficient to support these expenses, endeavours shall
be used for enlarging the dependencies and juris-
dictions aforesaid as much as possible; and par
THE BARRIER TREATY.
433
ticularly for including with the jurisdiction of Ypres, well the one as the other, as the people most
that of Cassel, and the forest of Niepe; and with favoured.
the jurisdiction of Lisle the jurisdiction of Douay,
both having been so joined before the present war.
ART. XII.-That no town, fort, place, or country
of the Spanish Low Countries shall be granted,
transferred, or given, or descend to the crown of
France, or any one of the line of France, neither by
virtue of any gift, sale, exchange, marriage, agree-
ment, inheritance, succession by will, or through
want of will, from no title whatsoever, nor in any
other manner whatsoever, nor be put into the power
or under the authority of the most christian king,
or any one of the line of France.
ART. XIII.-And whereas the said states-general,
in consequence of the ninth article of the said alli-
ance, are to make a convention or treaty with king
Charles III. for putting the States in a condition of
safety by means of the said barrier, the queen of
Great Britain will do what depends upon her, that
all the foregoing particulars relating to the barrier of
the States may be inserted in the aforesaid treaty or
convention; and that her said majesty will continue
her good offices until the abovementioned conven-
tion between the States and the said king Charles
III. be concluded agreeably to what is before
mentioned; and that her majesty will be guarantee
of the said treaty or convention.
ART. XIV. And that the said States may enjoy
XIV.—And
from henceforward as much as possible a barrier for
the Spanish Low Countries, they shall be permitted
to put their garrisons in the towns already taken,
and which may hereafter be so, before the peace be
concluded and ratified. And in the mean time the
said king Charles III. shall not be allowed to enter
into possession of the said Spanish Low Countries,
neither entirely nor in part and during that time
the queen shall assist their high mightinesses to
maintain them in the enjoyment of the revenues,
and to find the million of livres a-year above men-
tioned.
ART. XV.—And whereas their high mightinesses
have stipulated by the treaty of Munster, in the
14th article, that the river Schelde, as also the
canals of Sas, Swyn, and other mouths of the sea
bordering thereupon, should be kept shut on the
side of the States:
And in the 15th article, that the ships and com-
modities going in and coming out of the harbours of
Flanders shall be and remain charged with all such
imposts and other duties as are raised upon com-
modities going and coming along the Schelde and
the other canals above mentioned:
The queen of Great Britain promises and engages
that their high mightinesses shall never be disturbed
in their right and possession in that respect, neither
directly nor indirectly; as also, that the commerce
shall not, in prejudice of the said treaty, be made
more easy by the seaports than by the rivers, canals,
and months of the sea, on the side of the States of
the United Provinces, neither directly nor in-
directly.
And whereas, by the 16th and 17th articles of the
same treaty of Munster, his majesty the king of
Spain is obliged to treat the subjects of their high
mightinesses as favourably as the subjects of Great
Britain and the Hans-towns, who were then the
people the most favourably treated; her Britannic
majesty and their high mightinesses promise likewise
to take care that the subjects of Great Britain, and
of their high mightinesses, shall be treated in the
Spanish Low Countries as well as in Spain, the
kingdoms and states belonging to it, equally, and as
VOL. I.
ART. XVI. The said queen and States General
oblige themselves to furnish by sea and land the
succours and assistance necessary to maintain by
force her said majesty in the quiet possession of her
kingdoms, and the most serene house of Hanover
in the said succession, in the manner it is settled by
the acts of parliament before mentioned; and to
maintain the said States General in the possession
of the said barrier.
ART. XVII. After the ratifications of the treaty
a particular convention shall be made of the condi-
tions by which the said queen and the said lords the
States General will engage themselves to furnish the
succours which shall be thought necessary, as well
by sea as by land.
ART. XVIII.-If her British majesty, or the
States General of the United Provinces, be attacked
by anybody whatsoever by reason of this convention,
they shall mutually assist one another with all their
forces, and become guarantees of the execution of
the said convention.
ART. XIX.-There shall be invited and admitted
into the present treaty as soon as possible all the
kings, princes, and states, who shall be willing to
enter into the same, particularly his imperial ma-
jesty, the kings of Spain and Prussia, and the
elector of Hanover. And her British majesty and
the States General of the United Provinces, and
each of them in particular, shall be permitted to re-
quire and invite those whom they shall think fit to
require and invite to enter into this treaty, and to
be guarantees of its execution.
ART. XX.-And as time has shown the omission
which was made in the treaty signed at Ryswick in
the year 1697, between England and France, in re-
spect of the right of the succession of England in the
person of her majesty the queen of Great Britain
now reigning; and that, for want of having settled
in that treaty this indisputable right of her majesty,
France refused to acknowledge her for queen of
Great Britain after the death of the late king
William III., of glorious memory; her majesty the
queen of Great Britain, and the lords the States
General of the United Provinces, do agree and en-
age themselves likewise not to enter into any
negotiation or treaty of peace with France, before
the title of her majesty to the crown of Great
Britain, as also the right of succession of the most
serene house of Hanover to the aforesaid crown, in
the manner it is settled and established by the
before-mentioned acts of parliament, be fully ac-
knowledged as a preliminary by France, and that
France has promised at the same time to remove out
of its dominions the person who pretends to be
king of Great Britain; and that no negotiation or
formal discussion of the articles of the said treaty of
peace shall be entered into but jointly, and at the
same time, with the said queen or with her mi-
nisters.
ART. XXI.-Her British majesty and the lords
the States General of the United Provinces shall
ratify and confirm all that is contained in the pre-
sent treaty within the space of four weeks, to be
reckoned from the day of the signing. In testimony
whereof, the underwritten ambassador extraordinary
and plenipotentiary of her British majesty, and the
deputies of the lords the States General, have signed
this present treaty, and have affixed their seals
thereunto.
2 F
434
SOME REMARKS ON
At the Hague, the 29th of October, in the year 1709. | extremely narrow there, so that in some places the
(L. S.) TOWNshend.
(L. S.) J. B. VAN REEDE.
(L. S.) G. HOEUFT.
(L. S.) E. V. ITTERSUM.
(L. S.) J. V. WELDEREN.
(L. S.) A. HEINSIUS.
(L. S.) H. SMINIA.
(L. S.) W. WICHERS.
The separate Article.
As in the preliminary articles signed here at the
Hague, the 28th of May, 1709, by the plenipoten-
tiaries of his imperial majesty, of her majesty the
queen of Great Britain, and of the lords the States
General of the United Provinces, it is stipulated
among other things that the lords the States Ge-
neral shall have with entire property and sovereignty
the upper quarter of Guelder, according to the 52nd
article of the treaty of Munster of the year 1648; as
also that the garrisons which are, or hereafter shall
be, on the part of the lords the States General, in
the town of Huy, the citadel of Liege, and the town
of Bonne, shall remain there, until it shall be other-
wise agreed upon with his imperial majesty and the
empire: and as the barrier which is this day agreed
upon in the principal treaty for the mutual guaranty
between her British majesty and the lords the States.
General cannot give to the United Provinces the
safety for which it is established, unless it be well
secured from one end to the other, and that the
communication of it be well joined together, for
which the upper quarter of Guelder, and the gar-
risons in the citadel of Liege, Huy, and Bonne, are
absolutely necessary: (experience having thrice
shown that France, having a design to attack the
United Provinces, has made use of the places above
mentioned, in order to come at them and to pene-
trate into the said provinces): And further, as in
respect to the equivalent for which the upper quarter
of Guelder is to be yielded to the United Provinces,
according to the 52nd article of the treaty of Mun-
ster above mentioned, his majesty king Charles III.
will be much more gratified and advantaged in other
places than that equivalent can avail: to the end
therefore, that the lords of the States General may
have the upper quarter of Guelder with entire
property and sovereignty; and that the said upper
quarter of Guelder may be yielded in this manner to
the said lords the States General, in the convention
or the treaty that they are to make with his majesty
king Charles III. according to the 13th article of the
treaty concluded this day; as also, that their gar-
risons in the citadel of Liege, in that of Huy, and in
Bonne, may remain there until it be otherwise
agreed upon with his imperial majesty and the em-
pire; her majesty the queen of Great Britain
engages herself, and promises by this separate
article, which shall have the same force as if it was
inserted in the principal treaty, to make the same
efforts for all this as she has engaged herself to make
for the obtaining the barrier in the Spanish Low
Countries. In testimony whereof, the underwritten
ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary of her
British majesty, and deputies of the lords the States
General, have signed the present separate article,
and have affixed their seals thereunto.
At the Hague, the 29th of October, 1709.
(L. S.) Townshend. (L. S.) J. V. WELDEREN.
(L. S.) J. B. VAN REEDE. (L. S.) A. HEINSIUS.
(L. S.) G. Hoeurt. (L. S.) H. SMINIA.
(L. S.) E. V. ITTERSUM. (L. S.) W. WICHERS:
The second separate Article.
As the lords the States General have represented,
that in Flanders the limits between Spanish Flan-
ders and that of the States are settled in such a
manner as that the land belonging to the States is
territory of Spanish Flanders extends itself to the
fortifications, and under the cannon of the places,
towns, and forts of the States, which occasions many
inconveniences, as has been seen by an example a
little before the beginning of the present war, when
a fort was designed to have been built under the
cannon of the Sas Van Gand, under pretence that it
was upon the territory of Spain; and as it is neces-
sary for avoiding these and other sorts of incon-
veniences that the lands of the States upon the
confines of Flanders should be enlarged, and that
the places, towns, and forts, should by that means be
better covered; her British majesty, entering into the
just motives of the said lords the States General in
this respect, promises and engages herself by this
separate
separate article, that in the convention which the
said lords the States General are to make with his
majesty king Charles III. she will assist them, as
that it may be agreed that, by the cession to the
said lords the States General of the property of an
extent of land necessary to obviate such like and
other inconveniences, their limits in Flanders shall
be enlarged more conveniently for their security,
and those of the Spanish Flanders removed further
from their towns, places, and forts, to the end that
these may not be
not be so exposed any more. In
testimony whereof, the underwritten ambassador
extraordinary and plenipotentiary of her British
majesty, and deputies of the lords the States
General, have signed the present separate article,
and have affixed their seals thereunto.
At the Hague, the 29th of October, 1709.
(L. S.) TOWNShend. (L. S.) G. HOEUFT.
(L. S.) H. SMINIA.
(L. S.) E. V. ITTERSUM.
(L. S.) J. B. Van Reede.
(L. S.) A. HEINSIUS.
(L. S.) A. HEINSIUS.
The ARTICLES of the COUNTER-PROJECT, which were
struck out or altered by the Dutch in the Barrier
Treaty; with some Remarks.
ART. VI. To this end their high mightinesses
shall have power to put and keep garrisons in the
following places, viz., Newport, Knocke, Menin,
the citadel of Lisle, Tournay, Conde, Valenciennes,
Namur and its citadel, Lier, Halle, to fortify the
fort of Perle, Damme, and the castle of Gand.
REMARKS.
In the barrier treaty the States added the follow-
ing places to those mentioned in this article, viz.
Furnes, Ypres, towns of Lisle, Maubeuge, Charle-
roy, Philippe, fort of St. Donas (which is to be in pro-
perty to the States), and the fort of Rhodenhuysen
to be demolished. To say nothing of the other
places, Dendermond is the key of all Brabant; and
the demolishing of the fort of Rhodenhuysen, situate
between Gand and Sas Van Gand, can only serve to
defraud the king of Spain of the duties upon goods
imported and exported there.
ART. VII. The said States may put into the said
towns, forts, and places, and in case of open war
with France, into all the other towns, places, and forts,
whatever troops the reason of war shall require.
! REMARKS.
But in the barrier treaty it is said, in case of
an apparent attack or war, without specifying against
France; neither is the number of troops limited to
what the reason of war shall require, but what the
States shall think necessary.
ART. IX. Beside some smaller aifferences, ends
with a salvo, not only for the ecclesiastical and civil
THE BARRIER TREATY
435
rights of the king of Spain, but likewise for his re-
venues in the said towns, which revenues, in the
barrier-treaty, are all given to the States.
ART. XI. The revenues of the chattellanies and
dependencies of the towns and places which the
States shall have for their barrier against France,
and which were not in the possession of the crown
of Spain at the late king of Spain's death, shall be
settled to be a fund for maintaining garrisons and
providing for the fortifications and magazines, and
other necessary charges, of the said towns of the
barrier.
REMARKS.
I desire the reader to compare this with the 11th
article of the barrier treaty, where he will see how
prodigiously it is enlarged.
ART. XIV. All this to be without prejudice to
such other treaties and conventions as the queen of
Great Britain and their high mightinesses may think
fit to make for the future with the said king Charles
III., relating to the Spanish Netherlands, or to the
said barrier.
ART. XV. And to the end that the said States
may enjoy at present, as much as it is possible, a
barrier in the Spanish Netherlands, they shall be
permitted to put their garrisons in the chief towns
already taken, or that may be taken before a peace
be made.
REMARKS.
These two articles are not in the barrier treaty,
but two others in their stead, to which I refer the
reader. And indeed it was highly necessary for the
Dutch to strike out the former of these articles when
so great a part of the treaty is so highly and mani-
festly prejudicial to Great Britain as well as to the
king of Spain, especially in the two articles inserted
in the place of these, which I desire the reader will
examinie.
ART. XX. And whereas, by the 5th and 9th ar-
ticles of the alliance between the emperor, the late
king of Great Britain, and the States General, con-
cluded the 7th of Sept., 1701, it is agreed and sti-
pulated that the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily,
with all the dependencies of the crown of Spain in
Italy, shall be recovered from the possession of
France, as being of the last consequence to the trade
of both nations, as well as the Spanish Netherlands,
for a barrier for the States General; therefore the
said queen of Great Britain and the States General
agree and oblige themselves not to enter into any
negotiation or treaty of peace with France befɔre
the restitution of the said kingdoms of Naples and
Sicily, with all the dependencies of the crown of
Spain in Italy, as well as the Spanish Low Coun-
tries, with the other towns and places in the pos-
session of France above mentioned in this treaty, and
also after the manner specified in this treaty, as like-
wise all the rest of the entire monarchy of Spain, be
yielded by France as a preliminary.
ART. XXII. And whereas experience has shown
of what importance it is to Great Britain and the
United Provinces that the fortress and port of Dun-
kirk should not be in the possession of France in
the condition they are at present, the subjects of
both nations having undergone such great losses and
suffered so much in their trade by the prizes taken
from them by privateers sent out from that port;
insomuch that France, by her unmeasurable ambi-
tion, may be always tempted to make some enter-
prises upon the territories of the queen of Great
Britain and their high mightinesses, and interrupt
the public repose and tranquillity; for the preserva-
tion of which, and the balance of Europe against
the exorbitant power of France, the allies engaged
themselves in this long and burdensome war; there-
fore the said queen of Great Britain and their
mightinesses agree and oblige themselves not to
enter into any negotiation or treaty of peace with
France before it shall be yielded and stipulated by
France, as a preliminary, that all the fortifications
of the said town of Dunkirk, and the forts that de-
pend upon it, be entirely demolished and rased, and
that the port be entirely ruined and rendered im-
practicable.
REMARKS.
These two articles are likewise omitted in the
barrier treaty; whereof the first regards particularly
the interests of the house of Austria, and the other
about demolishing those of Great Britain. It is
something strange that the late ministry, whose ad-
vocates raise such a clamour about the necessity of
recovering Spain from the house of Bourbon, should
suffer the Dutch to strike out this article, which I
think clearly shows the reason why the States never
troubled themselves with the thoughts of reducing
Spain, or even recovering Milan, Naples, and Sicily
to the emperor, but were wholly fixed upon the
conquest of Flanders, because they had determined
those provinces as a property for themselves.
As for the article about demolishing Dunkirk, I
am not at all surprised to find it struck out; the
destruction of that place, although it would be use-
ful to the States, does more nearly import Britain,
and was therefore a point that such ministers could
more easily get over.
The Sentiments of Prince EUGENE of Savoy, and
of the Count de ZINZENDORF, relating to the Bar-
rier of the States General, to the Upper Quarter of
Guelder, and to the Towns of the Electorate of
Cologn, and of the Bishopric of Liege.
Although the orders and instructions of the courts
of Vienna and Barcelona upon the matters above
mentioned do not go so far as to give directions
for what follows; notwithstanding the prince and
count above mentioned, considering the present state
of affairs, are of the following opinion:
First. That the counter-project of England, relating
to the places where the States General may put and
keep garrisons, ought to be followed, except Lier,
Halle, to fortify, and the castle of Gand. Provided
likewise that the sentiments of England be parti-
cularly conformed to relating to Dendermond and
Ostend, as places in nowise belonging to the barrier,
and which, as well as the castle of Gand, can only
serve to make the States General masters of the
Low Countries, and hinder trade with England.
And as to Lier and Halle, those who are acquainted
with the country know that these towns cannot give
any security to the States General, but can only
make people believe that these places being forti-
fied would rather serve to block up Brussels and the
other great cities of Brabant.
Secondly. As to what is said in the 7th article of
the counter-project of England, relating to the aug-
mentation of garrisons in the towns of the barrier
nions of the said prince and count, who think like-
in case of an open war; this is agreeable to the opi-
wise that there ought to be added to the eighth arti-
into the towns where the States General shall have
cle that no goods or merchandise should be sent
garrisons, nor be comprehended under the names of
such things as the said garrisons and fortifications
shall be inspected in those places where they are to
shall have need of. And to this end the said things
2 F 2
436
SOME REMARKS ON THE BARRIER TREATY.
pass; as likewise the quantity shall be settled that
the garrisons may want.
Thirdly. As to the 9th article, relating to the go-
vernors and commanders of those towns, forts, and
places where the States General shall have their gar-
risons, the said prince and count are of opinion that
the said governors and commanders ought to take
an oath as well to the king of Spain as to the States
General; but they may take a particular oath to
the latter that they will not admit foreign troops
without their consent, and that they will depend
exclusively upon the said States in whatever regards
the military power. But, at the same time, they
ought exclusively to promise the king of Spain that
they will not intermeddle in the affairs of law, civil
power, revenues, or any other matters, ecclesiastical
or civil, unless at the desire of the king's officers to
assist them in the execution; in which case the said
commanders should be obliged not to refuse them.
Fourthly. As to the 10th article, there is nothing
to be added, unless that the States General may re-
pair and increase the fortifications of the towns,
places, and forts, where they shall have their garri-
sons; but this at their own expense. Otherwise,
under that pretext, they might seize all the revenues
of the country.
Fifthly. As to the 11th article, they think the
States ought not to have the revenues of the chattel-
lanies and dependencies of these towns and places
which are to be their barrier against France, this
being a sort of sovereignty, and very prejudicial to
the ecclesiastical and civil economy of the country.
But the said prince and count are of opinion that
the States General ought to have, for the mainte-
nance of their garrisons and fortifications, a sum of
money, of a million and a half or two millions of
florins, which they ought to receive from the king's
officers, who shall be ordered to pay that sum before
any other payment.
Sixthly. And the convention which shall be made
on this affair between his catholic majesty and the
States General shall be for a limited time.
These are the utmost conditions to which the said
prince and count think it possible for his catholic
majesty to be brought; and they declare, at the
same time, that their imperial and catholic majesties
will sooner abandon the Low Countries than to take
them upon other conditions, which would be equally
expensive, shameful, and unacceptable to them.
On the other side, the said prince and count are
persuaded that the advantages at this time yielded
to the States General, may hereafter be very preju-
dicial to themselves; forasmuch as they may put
the people of the Spanish Netherlands to some dan-
gerous extremity, considering the antipathy between
the two nations; and that extending of frontiers is
entirely contrary to the maxims of their government.
As to the upper quarter of Guelder, the said
prince and count are of opinion that the States Ge-
neral may be allowed the power of putting in garri-
sons into Venlo, Ruremond, and Steffenswaert, with
orders to furnish the said States with the revenues
of the country, which amount to one hundred thou-
sand florins.
As to Bonne belonging to the electorate of Co-
logn, Liege and Huy to the bishopric of Liege, it is
to be understood that, these being imperial towns, it
does not depend upon the emperor to consent that
foreign garrisons should be placed in them upon any
pretence whatsoever. But, whereas the States Ge-
neral demand them only for their security, it is pro-
posed to place in those towns a garrison of imperial
troops, of whom the States may be in no suspicion,
as they might be of a garrison of an elector who
|
might possibly have views opposite to their interests.
But this is proposed only in case that it shall not be
thought more proper to rase one or other of the said
towns.
The Representation of the English Merchants at
Bruges, relating to the Barrier Treaty.
DAVID WHITE, and other Merchants, her Majesty's
Subjects, residing at Bruges and other Towns in
Flanders, crave leave humbly to represent:
THAT whereas the cities of Lisle, Tournay, Menin,
Douay, and other new conquests in Flanders and
Artois, taken from the French this war by the united
forces of her majesty and her allies, are now become
entirely under the government of the States General,
and that we, her majesty's subjects, may be made.
liable to such duties and impositions on trade as the
said States General shall think fit to impose on us;
intention and design that the trade of her dominions
we humbly hope and conceive that it is her majesty's
and subjects, which is carried on with these new
conquests, may be on an equal foot with that of the
subjects and dominions of the States General, and
not be liable to any new duty when transported
from the Spanish Netherlands to the said new con-
quests, as, to our great surprise, is exacted from us
on the following goods, viz. butter, tallow, salmon,
hides, beef, and all other products of her majesty's
dominions which we import at Ostend and there pay
the duty of entry to the king of Spain, and conse-
sequently ought not to be liable to any new duty
when they carry the same goods and all others from
their dominions by a free pass or transire to the said.
new conquests: and we are under apprehension
that if the said new conquests be settled or given
entirely into the possession of the States General for
their barrier (as we are made to believe, by a treaty
lately made by her majesty's ambassador, the lord
viscount Townshend, at the Hague), that the States
General may also soon declare all goods and mer-
chandises, which are contraband in their provinces,
to be also contraband or prohibited in these new
conquests or new barrier, by which her majesty's
subjects will be deprived of the sale and consumption
of the following products of her majesty's dominions,
which are and have long been declared contraband
in the United Provinces, such as English and Scotch
salt, malt spirits, or corn brandy, and all other sorts.
of distilled English spirits, whale and rape oil, &c.
It is therefore humbly conceived that her majesty,
out of her great care and gracious concern for the
be pleased
benefit of her subjects and dominions, may
to direct, by a treaty of commerce or some other
way, that their trade may be put on an equal foot
in all the Spanish Netherlands and the new con-
quests of barrier with the subjects of Holland, by
paying no other duty than that of importation to the
king of Spain; and by a provision that no product
of her majesty's dominions shall ever be declared
contraband in these new conquests, except such
goods as were esteemed contraband before the death
of Charles II. king of Spain. And it is also humbly
prayed that the product and manufacture of the
new conquests may be also exported without paying
any new duty beside that of exportation at Östend,
which was always paid to the king of Spain; it
being impossible for any nation in Europe to assort
an entire cargo for the Spanish West Indies without
a considerable quantity of several of the manufac-
tures of Lisle; such as caradoros, cajant, picoses,
boratten, and many other goods.
The chief things to be demanded of France are to
be exempted from tonnage, to have a liberty of im-
CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES.
437
porting herrings and all other fish to France on the
same terms as the Dutch do, and as was agreed by
them at the treaty of commerce immediately after
the treaty of peace at Ryswick. The enlarging her
majesty's plantations in America, &c., is naturally
recommended.
AN APPENDIX TO THE
CONDUCT OF THE ALLIES;a
AND ADDITIONAL REMARKS ON THE BARRIER
TREATY.
Nihil est aliud in fædere, nisi ut pia et æterna pax sit.
CICERO, pro C. Balbo.
Jan. 16, 1712-13.
I BEGIN to think that, though perhaps there may be
several very exact maps of Great Britain to be had
at the shops in Amsterdam or the Hague; and some
shining genii in that country can, it may be, look
out the most remarkable places in our island, es-
pecially those upon the sea-coast or near it, as
Portsmouth, Chatham, Torbay, and the like; yet
it is highly necessary that "Chamberlaine's Present
State," or some other good book of that sort, were
carefully translated into Dutch, in usum illustrissi-
morum ordinum, or with any other sounding and
pompous title, only signifying that it was done for
the use of our good allies, and to set them right in
the nature of our government, constitution, and
laws, with which they do not appear to be so well
acquainted as might be expected. I am sensible
that, as things now stand, if a manifesto or memorial
should be sent them, humbly representing to their
high mightinesses that Great Britain is an inde-
pendent monarchy, governed by its own laws; that
the queen is supreme over all orders of the realm;
that no other prince, prelate, state, or potentate, has
or ought to have any authority and jurisdiction over
us; that where the queen, lords, and commons
solemnly consent, it is a law; and where the collec-
tive body of the people agree, it is the sense of the
nation; that the making war and peace is the pre-
rogative of the crown; and that all alliances are to
be observed only so far as they answer the ends for
which they were made: in such a case it is not un-
likely but the Amsterdam Gazette, or some other
paper in the Seven Provinces, would immediately
answer all this by publicly protesting that it came
from the Jacobites and Frenchified highfliers, and
therefore ought not to be admitted as genuine : for
of late that celebrated writer and two or three of his
seconds have undertaken to tell us poor Britons
who are our best subjects, and how we ought to
behave ourselves toward our allies. So that in this
unhappy juncture I do not see when we shall come
to a right understanding. On the other hand, sup-
pose we agreed to give them the precedence and left
the first proposal for overtures of accommodation to
their management; this perhaps might quickly bring
us to be better acquainted. Let them therefore lay
aside all clumsy pretences to address; tell us no
more of former battles, sieges, and glories; nor make
love to us in prose, and extol our beauty, our fortune,
and their own passion for us, to the stars; but let
them come roundly to the business, and in plain
terms give us to understand that they will not re-
cognise any other government in Great Britain but
Whiggarchy only; that they treated with us as such,
I gave the Examiner a hint about this prorogation; and to
praise the queen for her tenderness to the Dutch, in giving them
still more time to submit. It suited the occasion at present.
Journal to Stella, Jan. 15, 1712-13.
and are not obliged to acknowledge a usurped
power called a monarchy, to which they are utter
strangers; that they have a just demand upon us
ever since the Revolution, which is a precedent for
their interposing whenever popery and arbitrary
power are coming in upon us, which at present they
are informed by their friends is our case; and be-
sides, they are advised by able counsel that we are
only tenants for life, and they, being mentioned in
the entail, are obliged to have a watchful eye over
us, and to see that neither waste nor dilapidation be
done upon the premises. If all this be not the case,
and a true state of the controversy, as I heartily
hope it is not, I leave any rational creature, pick
him where you will between the Danube and Gan-
ges, to judge of the following remonstrance.
""
A war is undertaken by several potentates in con-
junction, upon certain causes and conditions plainly
expressed in a writing called "The Grand Alliance.'
This war is carried on with success; the enemy offers
to treat, and proposes to satisfy all the just demands
of the several parties engaged against them. Great
Britain makes her claim, so does Portugal, and both
are fully satisfied. The Dutch produce their barrier
of Gertruydenberg, and are assured they shall have
it except two or three places at most. Savoy and
Prussia have more than ever they asked. Only
the emperor will have all Spain, contrary to the
reasons upon which his brother's renunciation was
founded, and in direct violation of a fundamental
"the balance of power,
maxim,
so that he would
involve us in a second war and a new "grand alli-
ance" under pretence of observing the old one. This,
in short, is the case; and yet after all the bloodshed,
expense, and labour to compass these great ends,
though her Britannic majesty finds by experience
that every potentate in the grand alliance except
herself has actually broke it every year; though she
stands possessed of an undoubted right to make
peace and war; though she has procured for her
allics all that she was obliged to by treaty; though
her two houses of parliament humbly entreat her to
finish the great work; though her people with one
voice admire and congratulate the wise steps she has
taken, and cry aloud to her to defer their happiness
no longer; though some of the allies and one or two
of the provinces have declared for peace, and her
majesty's domestic enemies dread it as the utter
pends, and expectation is our lot. The menacing
downfal of their faction; yet still the blessing de-
pensionary has scruples; he desires time to look out
for something to demand; there are a dozen or two
of petty princes who want silk stockings, and lace
round their hats; we must stay till the second part
of Denain comes upon the stage, and squire South
promises to go directly to Madrid the next time we
show him the way thither.
Her majesty is all goodness and tenderness to her
people and her allies. A brighter example of piety
could not adorn the life of her royal grandfather,
whose solemn anniversary we must shortly celebrate.
assembled in her reign, and respited her own glory
She has now prorogued the best parliament that ever
and the wishes, prayers, and wants of her people,
only to give some of her allies an opportunity to
think of the returns they owe her, and try if there
Europe. This conduct of her majesty is without
be such things as gratitude, justice, or humanity in
parallel. Never was so great a condescension made
to the unreasonable clamours of an insolent faction,
now dwindled into the most contemptible circum-
It is certainly high time they should begin
to meditate other measures, unless they vainly ima-
gine the government must part with both its attri-
stances.
438
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
butes of mercy and justice till they are pleased to be
dutiful and obedient. What ill-grounded hopes and
expectations they have underhand administered to
any of the allies is not worth my while to inquire,
since, whatever they are, they must come attended
with the blackest treason and ingratitude. The
Dutch have the least reason in the world to rely on
such a broken reed; and after having solemnly pro-
mised to conform themselves to her majesty's wisdom
and depend on her conduct, which is the language
of their latest professions, such clandestine manage-
ment would fully deserve all those appellations with
which the writings of the Whigs are so richly em-
bellished.
After all, when her majesty and her subjects have
waited one period more, and affixed a new date to
their wishes and their patience; since peace is the only
end of every alliance, and since all that we fought
for is yielded up by the enemy, in justice to her pre-
rogative, to her parliament and her people, the de-
sirable blessing will no doubt be reached out to us;
our happiness will not be put off till they who have
ill-will at us can find time and power to prevent it.
All that a stubborn ally can then expect is time to
come in and accept those terms which himself once
thought reasonable. The present age will soon taste
the sweets of such conduct, and posterity as highly ap-
plaud it. Only they who now rail and calumniate will
do so still, and who are disposed to give everything the
same treatment which makes for our safety and wel-
fare, and spoils their game of disorder and con-
fusion.
It is true the present stagnation of affairs is ac-
counted for another way, and the party give out that
France begins to draw back and would explain
several articles upon us; but the authors of this for-
gery know very well I do not miscal it, and are con-
scious to the criminal reasons why it is with so
France rather en-
much industry bandied about.
larges her offers than abates or recedes from them,
so happy are we in finding our most inveterate and
ungenerous enemies within our own bowels! The
Whigs, according to custom, may chuckle and solace
themselves with the visionary hopes of coming mis-
chief; and imagine they are grown formidable be-
cause they are to be humoured in their extravagan-
cies and to be paid for their perverseness.
Let them
go on to glory in their projected schemes of govern-
ment, and the blessed effects they have produced in
the world. It was not enough for them to make
obedience the duty of the sovereign, but this obedi-
ence must at length be made passive; and that non-
resistance may not wholly vanish from among the
virtues, since the subject is weary of it, they would
fairly make it over to their monarch. The compact
between prince and people is supposed to be mutual;
but grand alliances are, it seems, of another nature:
a failure in one party does not disengage the rest;
they are tied up and entangled so long as any one
confederate adheres to the negative, and we are not
allowed to make use of the Polish argument and
plead non loquitur. But these artifices are too thin
to hold; they are the cobwebs which the faction
have spun out of the last dregs of their poison, made
to be swept away with the unnecessary animals who
contrived them. Their tyranny is at an end, and
their ruin very near; I can only advise them to be-
come their fall, like Cæsar, and "die with de-
cency."
THE HISTORY
OF THE FOUR LAST YEARS OF
QUEEN ANNE.
ณ
ADVERTISEMENT.
THE "History of the Four Last Years of the Queen" has been
unaccountably decried, though a work of undoubted merit. It
has even been supposed to be spurious, though every paragraph
it contains is a sufficient voucher for its authenticity. It is re-
peatedly mentioned by our author in various parts of his writ-
ings. He has called it "his GRAND business;" and thought it
THE BEST WORK HE HAD EVER WRITTEN." As far as it ex-
tends, it is indeed a masterly performance; and will be deemed
a valuable acquisition to future historians. Deriving his in-
telligence, at that remarkable era, from the fountain-head, Swift
could not be mistaken in the facts which he relates. He had
""
ready access to every requisite source of information, and his
manly fortitude must have placed him far above the necessity
of wilful misrepresentation. Professedly an advocate for the
Tories, to the Whigs he was an avowed, a formidable opponent.
In his Journal to Stella (the more valuable for discovering his
unreserved sentiments) he frequently laments the necessity of
displacing the duke of Marlborough; and declares, though he
loved not the man, he had prevented many hard things being
And the favours he obtained from the
said against him.
ministry for the men of wit among the adverse party are too
notorious to be enlarged on.º
His earnestness to communicate this history to the public is
evident in many of his letters. In 1736, it was actually intended
for the press; and in April, 1738, the dean expressed his dis-
satisfaction at the publication being so long delayed. Whatever
motives might have then existed for such delay, whether ten-
derness to living characters, or more prudential reasons, a
period of forty years must totally have removed them. The
rage of party is subsided; aud we may be allowed to contem-
plate the reign of Anne as impartially as that of Elizabeth.
1
At length this history was committed to the press in the year
1758, under the censure, it may be said, of its own editor; in
justice to whom, however we may differ in opinion concerning
Dr. Swift's candour, the editor's advertisement is preserved
entire. In the same year also it met with some severe stric-
tures from another writer. These we shall give too in his own
words; and then fairly submit "The History of the Four Last
Years of the Queen” to the judgment of the public :-
"
These characters, and the history from whence they havo
been extracted, may serve as a striking example of the melan-
choly effects of prejudice and party zeal; a zeal which, whilst
it corrupts the heart, vitiates the understanding itself, and
could mislead a writer of so penetrating a genius as Dr. Swift
to imagine that posterity would accept satire in the place of
history, and would read with satisfaction a performance in
which the courage and military skill of the duke of Marlbo-
rough are called in question. The real character of these great
men was not what the low idolatry of the one faction or the ma-
lignity of the other would represent it. They were men who,
with great virtues and great talents, mixed with some human
infirmities, did their country much service and honour. Their
talents were a public benefit, their failings such as only affected
their private character. The display of this mixture had been
a very proper task for an impartial historian; and had proved
equally agreeable and instructive to the reader in such hands.
But these characters before us have all the signs of being writ-
ten, as Tacitus calls it, recentibus odiis. In all other respects
the piece seems to be a work not unworthy of its author. A
clear and strong, though not an elevated style; an entire free-
dom from every sort of affected ornament; a peculiar happiness
of putting those he would satirize in the most odious and con-
temptible light, without seeming directly to intend it: these
are the characteristics of all Swift's works; and they appear as
strongly in this as in any of them. It there be anything differ-
ent in this performance from the manner of his works published
in his lifetime, it is, that the style is in this thrown something
more backwards, and has a more antique cast. This probably
he did designedly, as he might think it gave a greater dignity
to the work. He had a strong prejudice in favour of the lan-
guage as it was in queen Elizabeth's reign; and he rated the
See Dr. Swift's preface to the History; and see also parti
cularly sir Thomas Hanmer's very honourable testimony; who,
having perused the manuscript, returned it with a very few ob-
scrvations," which," he says, were as many as I could see
occasion for; though, I do assure you, I read with the same
strictness and ill-nature as in the former part."
"
b Journal to Stella, Feb. 27, 1710-11.
• See the dean's preface.
d Printed for A. Millar; and in 1767, it was first inserted by
Mr. Tonson in an edition of the dean's works.
The compiler of the Annual Register, 1758.
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE
439
style of the authors of that time a little above its real value.
Their style was indeed sufficiently bold und nervous, but defi-
cient in grace and elegance."
March 25, 1775.
ADVERTISEMENT
Prefixed to the Edition of 1758.
THUS the long-wished for "History of the Four
Last Years of the Queen's Reign" is at length
brought to light, in spite of all attempts to sup-
press it!
As this publication is not made under the sanc-
tion of the name or names which the author and
the world had a right to expect, it is fit some ac-
count of the work's appearing in this manner should
be here given.
Long before the dean's apparent decline some of
his intimate friends with concern foresaw the im-
pending fate of his fortune and his works. To this
it is owing that these sheets, which the world now
despaired of ever seeing, are rescued from obscurity,
perhaps from destruction.
For this the public is indebted to a gentleman,
now in Ireland, of the greatest probity and worth,
with whom the dean long lived in perfect intimacy.
To this gentleman's hands the dean entrusted a copy
of his History, desiring him to peruse and give his
judgment of it, with the last corrections and amend-
ments the author had given it, in his own hand.
His friend read, admired, and approved. And
from a dread of so valuable and so interesting a
work's being by any accident lost or effaced, as was
probable by its not being intended to be published
in the author's lifetime, he resolved to keep this
copy till the author should press him for it; but
with a determined purpose it should never see the
light while there were any hopes of the author's
own copy being published or even preserved.
This resolution he inviolably kept till he and the
world had full assurance that the dean's executors,
or those into whose hands the original copy fell,
were so far from intending to publish it that it was
actually suppressed, perhaps destroyed.
Then he thought himself not only at liberty, but
judged it his duty to his departed friend and to the
public, to let this copy, which he had now kept many
years most secretly, see the light.
Thus it has at length fallen into the hands of a
person who publishes it for the satisfaction of the
public, abstracted from all private regards; which
are never to be permitted to come into competition
with the common good.
Every judicious eye will see that the author of
these sheets wrote with strong passions, but with
stronger prepossessions and prejudices in favour of a
party. These, it may be imagined, the editor in
some measure may have adopted, and published this
work as a kind of support of that party or some sur-
viving remnant thereof.
It is but just to undeceive the reader and inform
him from what kind of hand he has received this
work. A man may regard a good piece of painting,
while he despises the subject: if the subject be ever
so despicable the masterly strokes of the painter may
demand our admiration, while he in other respects
is entitled to no portion of our regard.
In poetry we carry our admiration still further;
and like the poet while we actually contemn the
man. Historians share the like fate; hence some,
who have no regard to propriety or truth, are yet
admired for diction, style, manner, and the like.
The editor considers this work in another light:
he long knew the author, and was no stranger to his
politics, connexions, tendencies, passions, and the
whole economy of his life. He has long been hardily
[
singular in condemning this great man's conduct
amid the admiring multitude; nor ever could have
thought of making an interest in a man whose prin-
ciples and manners he could by no rule of reason or
honour approve, however he might have admired his
wit and parts.
Such was judged the disposition of the man whose
history of the most interesting period of time in the
annals of Britain is now herein offered to the reader.
He may well ask from what motives? The answer
is easily, simply given.
The causes assigned for delaying the publication
of this history were principally these: That the
manuscript fell into the hands of men who, whatever
they might have been by the generality deemed,
were by the dean believed to be of his party; though
they did not, after his death, judge it prudent to
avow his principles more than to deny them in his
lifetime. These men, having got their beavers,
tobacco-boxes, and other trifling remembrances of
former friendship, by the dean's will, did not choose
publicly to avow principles that had marred their
friend's promotion and might probably put a stop to
theirs; therefore, they gave the inquisitive world to
understand that there was something too strong
against many great men, as well as the succeeding
system of public affairs in general, in the dean's
History of the Four Last Years of the Queen's
Reign, to admit of a publication in our times; and
with this poor insinuation excused themselves, and
satisfied the weakly well-affected in suppressing the
manifestation of displeasing truths, of however great
importance to society.
This manuscript has now fallen into the hands of
a man who never could associate with, or even ap-
prove, any of the parties or factions that have differ-
ently distracted, it might be said disgraced, these
kingdoms; because he has as yet known none whose
motives or rules of action were truth and the public
good alone; of one who judges that perjured magis-
trates of all denominations, and their most exalted
minions, may be exposed, deprived, or cut off by the
fundamental laws of his country; and who, upon
these principles, from his heart approves and glories
in the virtues of his predecessors, who revived the
true spirit of the British polity in laying aside a
priest-ridden, a hen-pecked, tyrannical tool, who had
overturned the political constitution of his country,
and in reinstituting the dissolved body politic by a
revolution, supported by the laws of nature and the
realm, as the only means of preserving the natural
and legal, the civil and religious liberties of the
members of the commonwealth.
Truth, in this man's estimation, can hurt no good
cause. And falsehood and fraud, in religion and
politics, are ever to be detected, to be exploded.
Insinuations that this history contained some-
thing injurious to the present establishment, and
therefore necessary to be suppressed, serve better the
purposes of mistaken or insidious malecontents than
the real publication can. And if anything were by
this or any other history to be shown essentially
erroneous in our politics, who that calls himself a
Briton can be deemed such an impious slave as to
conceal the destructive evil? The editor of this
work disdains and abhors the servile thought, and
wishes to live no longer than he dares to think,
speak, write, and in all things to act worthy of a
Briton.
From this regard to truth and to his country, the
editor of this History was glad of an opportunity of
rescuing such a writing from those who meant to
suppress it: the common cause, in his estimation,
required and demanded it should be done, and the
440
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
sooner it is published, he judged, the better; for if
the conduct of the queen and her ministers does not
deserve the obloquy that has been long industriously
cast upon it, what is more just than to vindicate it?
what more reasonable than that this should be done
while living witnesses may yet be called to prove or
disprove the several allegations and assertions; since
in a few years more such witnesses may be as much
wanting as to prevent a canonization, which is there-
fore prudently procrastinated for above an age? Let
us then coolly hear what is to be said on this side
the question, and judge like Britons.
All these may be ascribed to the strength of his
passions, and to the prejudices early imbibed in
favour of his indulgent royal mistress and her
favourites and servants. The judicious will look
through the elegant clothing, and dispassionately
consider these as mere human errors to which no
well-informed mind can assent. The editor thinks
himself bound to protest against them.
He makes a few lapses on the other side, without
being as clear as an impartial historian would choose
to appear. He more than hints at the queen's dis-
pleasure at its being moved in parliament that the
The editor would not be thought to justify the au- prince elector should be invited to reside in Eng-
thor of this History in all points, or even to attempt land, to whose crown he was by law declared pre-
to acquit him of unbecoming prejudices and parti-sumptive heir; but is always open upon the queen's
ality without being deeply versed in history or
politics, he can see his author in many instances
blinded with passions that disgrace the historian,
and blending with phrases worthy of a Cæsar or a
Cicero, expressions not to be justified by truth, rea-
son, or common sense; yet think him a most power-
ful orator and a great historian.
No unprejudiced person will blame the dean for
doing all that is consistent with truth and decency
to vindicate the government of the queen, and to
exculpate the conduct of her ministers and her last
general; all good men would rejoice at such a vin-
dication. But if he meant no more than this, his
work would ill deserve the title of history. That he
generally tells truth, and founds his most material
assertions upon facts, will I think be found very evi-
dent. But there is room to suspect that while he
tells no more than the truth he does not tell the
whole truth. However, he makes it very clear that
the queen's allies, especially our worthy friends the
Dutch, were much to blame for the now generally
condemned conduct of the queen with regard to the
prosecution of the war and the bringing about the
peace.
The author's drawings of characters are confess-
edly partial; for he tells us openly he means not to
give characters entire, but such parts of each man's
particular passions, acquirements, and habits, as he
was most likely to transfer into his political schemes.
What writing, what sentence, what character, can
stand this torture? What extreme perversion may
not, let me say does not, this produce? Yet thus
does he choose to treat all men that were not
favourers of the latest measures of the queen, when
the best that has been said for her shows no more
than that she was blindfolded and held in leading-
strings by her ministers.
He does not spare a man confessed by all the
world to have discharged the duties of his function
like a soldier, like a hero; but charges prince
Eugene with raising and keeping up a most horrible
mob with intent to assassinate Harley. For all
which odious charges he offers not one individual
point of proof.
He is not content with laying open again the
many faults already publicly proved upon the late
duke of Marlborough; but insinuates a new crime
by seeming to attempt to acquit him of aspiring at
the throne. But this is done in a manner peculiar
to this author.
On the other hand he extols the ministers and
minions of the queen in the highest terms; and
while he robs their antagonists of every good quality,
generally gives those wisdom and every virtue that
can adorn human nature.
He is not ashamed to attempt to justify what all
thinking good men must condemn, the queen's
making twelve peers at once to serve a particular
turn.
insisting on
insisting on the pretender's being sent out of
France. It is easy to see how incompatible these
things appear: nothing could tend more to secure
the Hanover succession and to enlarge its benefits
to Britain than the bringing over the successor, who
should in every country be well instructed in the
language, customs, manners, religion, and laws of
his future subjects, before he comes to hold the
reins of government. And our author does not
take the proper care to inform us how far the
French thought fit to comply with banishing the
pretender their dominions; since many still live in
doubt that if he was sent out of France he was sent
into England.
But there is one expression of our author too per-
verse, too grossly abused, to admit of any apology, of
any palliation. It is not to be supposed that he
was ignorant of any word in the English language;
and least of all can be supposed ignorant of the
meaning of a word which, had it been ever so
doubtful before, had a certain meaning impressed
upon it by the authority of parliament of which no
sensible subject can be ignorant.
Notwithstanding this, where our author speaks of
the late king James he calls him the abdicated king,
and gives the same epithet even to his family.
Though this weak, ill-advised, and ill-fated prince
in every sense of the word with Romans and Eng-
lish, and to all intents and purposes, abdicated, yet
can he in no sense be called abdicated; unless the
people's asserting their rights and defending them-
selves against a king who broke his compact with
his subjects and overturned their government can
be called abdication in them; which no man in his
senses can be hardy enough to support upon any
principle of reason or the laws of England. Let
the reader judge which this is most likely to be,
error or design.
These exceptions the editor thought himself
bound to make to some parts of this work, to keep
clear of the disagreeable imputations of being of a
party of whatsoever denomination, in opposition to
truth and the rights and liberties of the subject.
These laid aside, the work will be found to have
many beauties, many excellencies. Some have of
late affected to depreciate this history, from an insi-
nuation made only since the author's death, to wit,
that he was never admitted into the secrets of the
administration, but made to believe he was a con-
fident, only to engage him in the list of the minis-
terial writers of that reign.
The falsehood of this will readily appear upon
perusal of this work. This shows he knew the
most secret springs of every movement in the whole
complicated machine; that he states facts too well
known to be contested, in elegant simplicity, and
reasons upon them with the talents of the greatest
historian; and thus makes a history composed
rather of negotiations than actions most entertain-
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
441
ing, affecting, and interesting, instead of being, as
might be expected, heavy, dull, and disagreeable.
It is now fit to apologize for some errors which
the judicious must discover upon a perusal of this
work. It is for this among other reasons much to
be lamented that this History was not published
under the author's own inspection. It is next to
impossible to copy or print any work without faults;
and most so where the author's eye is wanting.
It is not to be imagined that even our author,
however accurate, however great, was yet strictly
and perfectly correct in his writings. Yet where
some seeming inaccuracies in style or expression
have been discovered, the deference due to the au-
thor made any alteration too presumptuous a task
for the editor. These are therefore left to the
amending hand of every sensible and polite reader.
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
HAVING Written the following History at Windsor
in the happy reign of her majesty queen Anne, of
ever glorious, blessed, and immortal memory, I re-
solved to publish it for the satisfaction of my fellow-
subjects, in the year 1713: being under a neces-
sity of going to Ireland to take possession of the
deanery of St. Patrick's, Dublin, I left the original
with the ministers, and having stayed in that king-
dom not above a fortnight, I found at my return
that my lord-treasurer Oxford, and the secretary my
lord Bolingbroke, who were then unhappily upon
very ill terms with each other, could not agree upon
publishing it without some alterations which I
would not submit to. Whereupon
Whereupon I kept it by me
until her majesty's death, which happened about a
year after.
I have ever since preserved the original very
safely, too well knowing what a turn the world
would take upon the German family's succeeding to
the crown; which indeed was their undoubted
right, having been established solemnly by the act of
an undisputed parliament, brought into the house of
commons by Mr. Harley, who was then speaker.
But, as I have said in another discourse, it was
very well understood some years before her majes-
ty's death how the new king would act immediately
upon his entrance in the choice of those (and those
alone) whom he resolved to trust, and consequently
what reports would industriously be raised as well
as spread, to expose the proceedings of her majesty
herself, as well as of her servants, who have been
ever since blasted as enemies to the present esta-
blishment by the most ignorant and malicious among
mankind.
Therefore, as it was my lot to have been daily
conversant with the persons then in power; never
absent in times of business or conversation until a
few weeks before her majesty's death; and a wit-
ness of almost every step they made in the course of
their administration; I must have been very unfor-
tunate not to be better informed than those misera-
ble pamphleteers or their patrons could pretend to.
At the same time I freely confess it appeared neces-
sary as well as natural, upon such a mighty change
as the death of a sovereign, that those who were to
be in power upon the succession, and resolved to
act in every part by a direct contrary system of poli-
tics, should load their predecessors with as much
infamy as the most inveterate malice and envy could
suggest, or the most stupid ignorance and credulity
in their underlings could swallow.
Therefore, as I pretend to write with the utmost
impartiality the following History of the Four Last
Years of her Majesty's Reign, in order to undeceive
|
prejudiced persons at present as well as posterity,
I am persuaded in my own mind, as likewise by the
advice of my oldest and wisest friends, that I am
doing my duty to God and man by endeavouring to
set future ages right in their judgment of that happy
reign; and as a faithful historian I cannot suffer
falsehoods to run on any longer, not only against all
appearance of truth as well as probability, but even
against those happy events which owe their success
to the very measures then fixed in the general
peace.
The materials of this history, beside what I have
already mentioned,-I mean the confidence reposed
in me for those four years by the chief persons in
power,—were extracted out of many hundred letters
written by our ambassadors abroad, and from the
answers as well as instructions sent them by our
secretaries of state, or by the first minister the earl
of Oxford. The former were all originals, and the
latter copies entered into books in the secretaries'
office, out of both which I collected all that I thought
convenient; not to mention several memorials given
me by the ministers at home. Further, I was a con-
stant witness and observer of all that passed, and en-
tered every particular of any consequence upon
paper.
I was so far from having any obligation to the
crown, that, on the contrary, her majesty issued a
proclamation offering three hundred pounds to any
person who would discover the author of a certain
short treatise [Public Spirit of the Whigs], which
the queen well knew to have been written by me. I
never received one shilling from the minister, or any
other present except that of a few books; nor did I
want their assistance to support me. I very often
dined indeed with the treasurer and secretary; but
in those days that was not reckoned a bribe, what-
I abso-
ever it may have been at any time since.
lutely refused to be chaplain to the lord-treasurer,
because I thought it would ill become me to be in a
state of dependence.
I say
this to show that I had no other bias than
my own opinion of persons and affairs. I preserved
several of the opposite party in their employments
who were persons of wit and learning, particularly
Mr. Addison and Mr. Congreve, neither of whom
were ever in any danger from the treasurer, who
much esteemed them both; and by his lordship's
commands I brought the latter to dine with him.
Mr. Steele might have been safe enough if his con-
tinually repeated indiscretions, and a zeal mingled
with scurrilities, had not forfeited all title to
lenity.
I know very well the numberless prejudices of
weak and deceived people, as well as the malice of
those who, to serve their own interest or ambition,
have cast off all religion, morality, justice, and com-
mon decency. However, although perhaps I may
not be believed in the present age, yet I hope to be
so in the next by all who will bear any regard for
the honour and liberty of England, if either of these
shall then subsist or not.
I have no interest or inclination to palliate the
mistakes, or omissions, or want of steadiness, or un-
happy misunderstandings, among a few of those who
then presided in affairs.
Nothing is more common than the virulence of
superficial and ill-informed writers against the con-
duct of those who are now called prime ministers;
and since factions appear at present to be at a greater
height than in any former times, although per-
haps not so equally poised, it may probably concern
those who are now in their height, if they have any
regard to their own memories in future ages, to be
442
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
less warm against others who humbly differ from
them in some state opinions. Old persons remem-
ber, at least by tradition, the horrible prejudices
that prevailed against the first earl of Clarendon,
whose character as it now stands might be a pattern
for all ministers; although even bishop Burnet of
Sarum, whose principles, veracity, and manner of
writing are so little esteemed upon many accounts,
has been at the pains to vindicate him.
Upon that irreparable breach between the trea-
surer and secretary Bolingbroke, after my utmost
endeavours for above two years to reconcile them, I
retired to a friend in Berkshire, where I stayed until
her majesty's death, and then immediately returned
to my station in Dublin, where I continued about
twelve years without once seeing England. I there
often reviewed the following Memoirs, neither
changing nor adding further than by correcting the
style; and if I have been guilty of any mistakes,
they must be of small moment; for it was hardly
possible I could be wrong informed with all the ad-
vantages I have already mentioned.
I shall not be very uneasy under the obloquy that
may perhaps be cast upon me by the violent leaders
and followers of the present prevailing party. And
yet I cannot find the least inconsistence with con-
science or honour, upon the death of so excellent a
princess as her late majesty, for a wise and good
man to submit, with a true and loyal heart, to her
lawful protestant successor, whose hereditary title
was confirmed by the queen and both houses of par-
liament with the greatest unanimity, after it had
been made an article in the treaty that every prince
in our alliance should be a guarantee of that succes-
sion. Nay, I will venture to go one step further;
that if the negotiators of that peace had been chosen
out of the most professed zealots for the interest of
the Hanover family, they could not have bound up
the French king or the Hollanders more strictly
than the queen's plenipotentiaries did in confirming
the present succession; which was in them so much
a greater mark of virtue and loyalty, because they
perfectly well knew that they should never receive
the least mark of favour when the succession had
taken place.
BOOK THE FIRST.
I PROPOSE to give the public an account of the most
important affairs at home during the last session of
parliament, as well as of our negotiations of peace
abroad, not only during that period but some time
before and since. I shall relate the chief matters
transacted by both houses in that session, and dis-
cover the designs carried on by the heads of a dis-
contented party, not only against the ministry, but
in some manner against the crown itself: I likewise
shall state the debts of the nation; show by what
mismanagement, and to serve what purposes, they
were at first contracted; by what negligence or cor-
ruption they have so prodigiously grown; and what
methods have since been taken to provide not only
for their payment, but to prevent the like mischief
for the time to come. Although, in an age like ours,
I can expect very few impartial readers, yet I shall
strictly follow truth, or what reasonably appeared
to me to be such after the most impartial inquiries
I could make, and the best opportunities of being
informed by those who were the principal actors or
advisers.
Neither shall I mingle panegyric or satire with a
history intended to inform posterity, as well as to
instruct those of the present age who may be igno-
rant or misled, since facts, truly related, are the best
applauses or most lasting reproaches.
|
Discourses upon subjects relating to the public
usually seem to be calculated for London only, and
some few miles about it; while the authors suppose
their readers to be informed of several particulars to
which those that live remote are, for the generality
utter strangers. Most people who frequent this
town acquire a sort of smattering, such as it is,
which qualifies them for reading a pamphlet, and
finding out what is meant by innuendoes, or hints
at facts or persons, and initial letters of names;
wherein gentlemen at a distance, although perhaps
of much better understandings, are wholly in the
dark wherefore, that these Memoirs may be ren-
dered more generally intelligible and useful, it will
be convenient to give the reader a short view of the
state and disposition of affairs when the last session
of parliament began. And because the party leaders
who had lost their power and places were, upon
that juncture, employing all their engines in an
attempt to re-establish themselves, I shall venture
one step further, and represent so much of their cha-
racters as may be supposed to have influenced their
politics.
On the 7th day of December, 1711, began the
second session of parliament. It was now above a
year since the queen had thought fit to put the great
offices of state and of her own household into other
hands; however, three of the discontented lords were
still in possession of their places; for the duke of
Marlborough continued general, the duke of Somerset
master of the horse, and the earl of Cholmondeley
treasurer of her majesty's household: likewise great
numbers of the same party still kept employments
of value and importance, which had not been usual
of late years upon any changes of ministry. The
queen, who judged the temper of her people by this
house of commons, which a landed interest had
freely chosen, found them very desirous of a secure
and honourable peace, and disposed to leave the
management of it to her own wisdom and that of
her council: she had therefore several months before
the session began sent to inform the States General
of some overtures which had been made her by the
enemy; and during that summer her majesty took
several further steps in that great affair, until at
length, after many difficulties, a congress at Utrecht,
for a general peace, was agreed upon; the whole
proceedings of which previous negotiations between
our court and that of France I shall, in its proper
place, very particularly relate.
The nation was already upon a better foot with re-
spect to its debts; for the earl of Oxford, lord-trea-
surer, had, in the preceding session, proposed and
effected ways and means in the house of commons,
where he was then a member, for providing a par-
liamentary fund to clear the heavy arrear of ten mil-
lions (whereof the greatest part lay upon the navy)
without any new burden (at least after a very few
years) to the kingdom; and at the same time he took
care to prevent further incumbrances upon that ar-
ticle by finding ready money for naval provisions,
which has saved the public somewhat more than
cent. per cent. in that mighty branch of our ex-
penses.
The clergy were altogether in the interests and
the measures of the present ministry, which had ap-
peared so boldly in their defence during a prose-
cution against one of their members [Sacheverell],
where the whole sacred order was understood to be
concerned. The zeal shown for that most religious
bill to settle a fund for building fifty new churches
in and about the city of London, was a fresh obli-
gation; and they were further highly gratified by
a Which owed its origin to Dr. Swift.
a
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
443
her majesty's choosing one of their body to be a
great officer of state.a
By this time likewise all disputes about those
principles which used originally to divide Whig and
Tory were wholly dropped; and those fantastical
words ought in justice to have been so too, provided
we could have found out more convenient names
whereby to distinguish lovers of peace from lovers
of war; or those who would leave her majesty some
degree of freedom in the choice of her ministers
from others who could not be satisfied with her
choosing any, except such as she was most averse
from; but where a nation is once divided, interest
and animosity will keep open the breach without
being supported by any other principles; or at worst
a body of discontented people can change and take
up what principles they please.
As to the disposition of the opposite party, we all
remember that the removal of the last ministry was
brought about by several degrees; through which
means it happened that they and their friends were
hardly recovered out of one astonishment before
they fell into another. This scene lasted for some
months, and was followed by a period of rage and
despair natural to those who reflect that they have
lost a secure game by their own rashness, folly, and
want of common management; when at the same
time they knew by experience that a watchful and
dexterous adversary lay ready to take the advantage.
However, some time before the session the heads of
that party began to recollect themselves and rally
their forces, like an enemy who has been beaten out
of the field, but finds he is not pursued; for although
the chiefs of this faction were thought to have but
little esteem or friendship for each other, yet they
perfectly agreed in one general end, of distressing
by all possible methods the new administration;
wherein if they could succeed so far as to put the
queen under any great necessity, another parliament
must be called, and perhaps the power devolve again
into their own hands.
The issue and event of that grand confederacy ap-
pearing in both houses, although under a different
form, upon the very first day the parliament met, I
cannot better begin the relation of affairs, com-
mencing from that period, than by a thorough de-
tection of the whole intrigue, carried on with the
greatest privacy and application, which must be
acknowledged to have for several days disconcerted
some of the ministry, as well as dispirited their
friends, and the consequences thereof, which have
in reality been so very pernicious to the kingdom.
But because the principal leaders in this design
are the same persons to whom, since the loss of their
power, all the opposition has been owing which the
court received, either in treaties abroad or the ad-
ministration at home; it may not be improper to
describe those qualities in each of them which few
of their admirers will deny, and which appear chiefly
to have influenced them in acting their several parts
upon the public stage; for I do not intend to draw
their characters entire, which would be tedious and
little to the purpose; but shall only single out those
passions, acquirements, and habits, which the owners
were most likely to transfer into their political
schemes, and which were most subservient to the
designs they seemed to have in view.
The lord Somers may very deservedly be reputed
the head and oracle of that party: he has raised
himself, by the concurrence of many circumstances,
to the greatest employments of the state, without
the least support from birth or fortune; he has con-
stantly, and with great steadiness, cultivated those
a Dr. Robinson, bishop of Bristol, to be lord privy scal.
That accident
principles under which he grew.
which first produced him into the world, of pleading
for the bishops whom king James had sent to the
Tower, might have proved a piece of merit as ho-
nourable as it was fortunate; but the old republican
spirit which the Revolution had restored began to
teach other lessons-that since we had accepted a
new king from a Calvinistical commonwealth, we must
also admit new maxims in religion and government.
But since the nobility and gentry would probably
adhere to the established church and to the rights of
monarchy, as delivered down from their ancestors, it
was the practice of those politicians to introduce
such men as were perfectly indifferent to any or no
religion, and who were not likely to inherit much
loyalty from those to whom they owed their birth.
Of this number was the person I am now describing.
I have hardly known any man with talents more
proper to acquire and preserve the favour of a prince;
never offending in word or gesture; in the highest
degree courteous and complaisant, wherein he set
an excellent example to his colleagues, which they
did not think fit to follow; but this extreme civility
is universal and undistinguished; and in private
conversation, where he observes it as inviolably as
if he were in the greatest assembly, it is sometimes
censured as formal. Two reasons are assigned for
this behaviour: first, from the consciousness of his
humble original, he keeps all familiarity at the ut-
most distance, which otherwise might be apt to in-
trude; the second, that, being sensible how subject
he is to violent passions, he avoids all incitements
to them, by teaching those he converses with, from
his own example, to keep a great way within the
bounds of decency and respect. And it is indeed
true that no man is more apt to take fire upon the
least appearance of provocation; which temper he
strives to subdue with the utmost violence upon him-
self; so that his breast has been seen to heave and his
eyes to sparkle with rage in those very moments when
his words and the cadence of his voice were in the
humblest and softest manner: perhaps that force
upon his nature may cause that insatiable love of
revenge which his detractors lay to his charge, who
consequently reckon dissimulation among his chief
perfections. Avarice he has none; and his am-
bition is gratified by being the uncontested head of
his party. With an excellent understanding, adorned
by all the polite parts of learning, he has very little
taste for conversation, to which he prefers the plea-
sure of reading and thinking; and in the intervals
of his time amuses himself with an illiterate chap-
lain, an humble companion, or a favourite servant.
These are some few distinguishing marks in the
character of that person who now presides over the
discontented party, although he be not answerable
for all their mistakes; and if his precepts had been
more strictly followed, perhaps their power would
not have been so easily shaken. I have been assured,
and heard him profess, that he was against engag-
ing in that foolish prosecution of Dr. Sacheverell,
as what he foresaw was likely to end in their ruin;
that he blamed the rough demeanour of some per-
sons to the queen, as a great failure in prudence;
and that when it appeared her majesty was firmly
resolved upon a treaty of peace he advised his friends.
not to oppose it in its progress, but find fault with it
after it was made; which would be a copy of the
like usage themselves had met with after the treaty
of Ryswick, and the safest as well as the most pro-
bable way of disgracing the promoters and advisers.
I have been the larger in representing to the reader
some idea of this extraordinary genius, because,
whatever attempt has hitherto been made, with any
444
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
appearance of conduct or probability of success, to
restore the dominion of that party, was infallibly
contrived by him; and I prophesy the same for the
future, as long as his age and infirmities will leave
him capable of business.
He
The duke of Marlborough's character has been so
variously drawn, and is indeed of so mixed a nature
in itself, that it is hard to pronounce on either side,
without the suspicion of flattery or detraction. I
shall say nothing of his military accomplishments,
which the opposite reports of his friends and ene-
mies among the soldiers have rendered problematical;
but if he be among those who delight in war, it is
agreed to be not for the reasons common with other
generals. Those maligners who deny him personal
valour seem not to consider that this accusation is
charged at a venture; since the person of a wise
general is too seldom exposed to form any judgment
in the matter: and that fear, which is said to have
sometimes disconcerted him before an action, might
probably be more for his army than for himself.
was bred in the height of what is called the Tory
principle, and continued with a strong bias that way
till the other party had bid higher for him than his
friends could afford to give. His want of literature
is in some sort supplied by a good understanding, a
degree of natural elocution, and that knowledge of
the world which is learned in armies and courts.
We are not to take the height of his ambition from
his soliciting to be general for life: I am persuaded
his chief motive was the pay and perquisites by con-
tinuing the war; and that he had then no intentions
of settling the crown in his family, his only son
having been dead some years before. He is noted
to be master of great temper, able to govern or very
well to disguise his passions, which are all melted
down or extinguished in his love of wealth. That
liberality which nature has denied him with respect
to money, he makes up by a great profusion of pro-
mises but this perfection so necessary in courts is
not very successful in camps, among soldiers who
are not refined enough to understand or to relish it.
His wife, the duchess, may justly challenge her
place in this list. It is to her the duke is chiefly in-
debted for his greatness and his fall; for above twenty
years she possessed without a rival the favours of the
most indulgent mistress in the world, nor ever missed
one single opportunity that fell in her way of im-
proving it to her own advantage. She has preserved
a tolerable court reputation with respect to love and
gallantry; but three Furies reigned in her breast,
the most mortal enemies of all softer passions, which
were sordid Avarice, disdainful Pride, and ungovern-
able Rage; by the last of these often breaking out
in sallies of the most unpardonable sort, she had long
alienated her sovereign's mind before it appeared to
the world. This lady is not without some degree of
wit, and has in her time affected the character of it
by the usual method of arguing against religion, and
proving the doctrines of Christianity to be impossi-
ble and absurd. Imagine what such a spirit, irritated
by the loss of power, favour, and employment, is
capable of acting or attempting; and then I have
said enough.
The next in order to be mentioned is the earl of
Godolphin It is said he was originally intended for
a trade before his friends preferred him to be a page
at court; which some have very unjustly objected as
a reproach. He has risen gradually in four reigns,
and was much more constant to his second master
king James than some others who had received
much greater obligations; for he attended the abdi-
cated king to the sea-side, and kept constant corre-
spondence with him till the day of his death. He
always professed a sort of passion for the queen at
St. Germain's; and his letters were to her in the
style of what the French call double entendre. In a
mixture of love and respect, he used frequently to
send her from hence little presents of those things
which are agreeable to ladies, for which he always
asked king William's leave, as if without her privity;
because, if she had known that circumstance, it was
to be supposed she would not accept them. Physi-
ognomists would hardly discover, by consulting the
aspect of this lord, that his predominant passions
were love and play; that he could sometimes scratch
out a song in praise of his mistress with a pencil
and card; or that he has tears at command, like a
woman, to be used either in an intrigue of gallantry
or politics. His alliance with the Marlborough
family, and his passion for the duchess, were the
cords which dragged him into a party whose prin-
ciples he naturally disliked, and whose leaders he per-
sonally hated, as they did him. He became a thorough
convert by a perfect trifle; taking fire at a nicknane
[Volpone] delivered by Dr. Sacheverell, with great
indiscretion, from the pulpit, which he applied to him-
self: and this is one among many instances given by
his enemies that magnanimity is none of his virtues.
The earl of Sunderland is another branch of that
alliance. It seems to have been this gentleman's
fortune to have learned his divinity from his uncle.
and his politics from his tutor. It may be thought
a blemish in his character that he has much fallen
from the height of those republican principles with
which he began; for in his father's lifetime, while
he was a member of the house of commons, he
would often, among his familiar friends, refuse
the title of lord (as he has done to myself), swear
he would never be called otherwise than Charles
Spencer, and hoped to see the day when there should
not be a peer in England. His understanding, at the
best, is of the middling size; neither has he much
improved it, either in reality, or, which is very un-
fortunate, even in the opinion of the world, by an
overgrown library. It is hard to decide whether he
learned that rough way of treating his sovereign from
the lady he is allied to, or whether it be the result
of his own nature. The sense of the injuries he has
done renders him (as it is very natural) implacable
towards those to whom he has given greatest cause
to complain; for which reason he will never forgive
either the queen or the present treasurer.
The earl of Wharton has filled the province al-
lotted him by his colleagues with sufficiency equal to
the ablest of them all. He has imbibed his father's
principles in government; but dropped his religion
and took up no other in its stead: excepting that
circumstance, he is a firm presbyterian. He is per-
fectly skilled in all the arts of managing at elections,
as well as in large baits of pleasure for making con-
verts of young men of quality upon their first ap-
pearance; in which public service he contracted such
large debts that his brethren were forced, out of
mere justice, to leave Ireland at his mercy, where he
had only time to set himself right. Although the
graver heads of his party think him too profligate
and abandoned, yet they dare not be ashamed of
him; for beside his talents above mentioned, he is
very useful in parliament, being a ready speaker,
and content to employ his gifts upon such occasions
where those who conceive they have any remainder
of reputation or modesty are ashamed to appear. In
short, he is an incontestable instance to discover the
true nature of faction; since, being overrun with
every quality which produces contempt and hatred
in all other commerce of the world, he has notwith-
Second daughter of the duchess of Marlborough.
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
445
standing been able to make
figure.
so considerable a
The lord Cowper, although his merits are later
than the rest, deserves a rank in this great council.
He was considerable in the station of a practising
lawyer; but as he was raised to be a chancellor and a
peer without passing through any of the intermediate
steps, which in late times had been the constant
practice, and little skilled in the nature of govern-
ment or the true interest of princes, further than
the municipal or common law of England, his abilities
as to foreign affairs did not equally appear in the
council. Some former passages of his life were
thought to disqualify him for that office by which
he was to be the guardian of the queen's conscience ;
but these difficulties were easily overruled by the
authors of his promotion, who wanted a person that
would be subservient to all their designs; wherein
they were not disappointed. As to his other accom-
plishments, he was what we usually call a piece of a
scholar and a good logical reasoner; if this were
not too often allayed by a fallacious way of manag-
ing an argument, which made him apt to deceive the
unwary, and sometimes to deceive himself.
The last to be spoken of in this list is the earl of
Nottingham, a convert and acquisition to that party
since their fall, to which he contributed his assist-
ance; I mean his words, and probably his wishes;
for he had always lived under the constant visible
profession of principles directly opposite to those of
his
new friends. His vehement and frequent
speeches against admitting the prince of Orange to
the throne are yet to be seen; and although a nu-
merous family gave a specious pretence to his love
of power and money, for taking an employment un-
der that monarch, yet he was allowed to have always
kept a reserve of allegiance to his exiled master; of
which his friends produce several instances, and
some while he was secretary of state to king Wil-
liam. His outward regularity of life, his appearance
of religion and seeming zeal for the church, as they
are an effect, so they are the excuse, of that stiffness
and formality with which his nature is fraught. His
adust complexion disposes him to rigour and seve-
rity, which his admirers palliate with the name of
zeal. No man had ever a sincerer countenance, or
more truly representing his mind and manners. He
has some knowledge in the law, very amply suffi-
cient to defend his property at least. A facility of
utterance descended to him from his father, and im-
proved by a few sprinklings of literature, has brought
himself and some few admirers into an opinion
of his eloquence. He is every way inferior to his
brother Guernsey, but chiefly in those talents which
he most values and pretends to; over whom, never-
theless, he preserves an ascendant. His great am-
bition was to be the head of those who were called
the church party; and indeed grave solemn deport-
ment and countenance, seconded by abundance of
professions for their service, had given many of them
an opinion of his veracity, which he interpreted as
their sense of his judgment and wisdom; and this
mistake lasted till the time of his defection, of which
it was partly the cause; but then it plainly appeared
that he had not credit to bring over one single
proselyte to keep himself in countenance.
These lineaments, however imperfectly drawn,
may help the reader's imagination to conceive what
sort of persons those were who had the boldness to
encounter the queen and ministry at the head of a
great majority of the landed interest; and this upon
a point where the quiet of her majesty's reign, the
security, or at least the freedom, of her person, the
lives of her most faithful friends, and the settling of
the nation by a peace, were in the consequences
deeply concerned,
During the dominion of the late men in power,
addresses had been procured from both houses to
the queen, representing their opinion that no peace
could be secure for Britain while Spain or the West
Indies remained in the possession of the Bourbon
family. But her majesty, having, for reasons which
have been often told to the world and which will
not soon be forgotten, called a new parliament and
chosen a new set of servants, began to view things
and persons in another light. She considered the
necessities of her people; the distant prospect of a
peace upon such an improbable condition, which
was never mentioned or understood in the grand
alliance; the unequal burden she bore in the war,
by the practices of the allies upon the corruption of
some whom she most trusted, or perhaps by the
practices of these upon the allies; and lastly, by the
changes which death had brought about in the
Austrian and Bourbon families. Upon all which
motives she was prevailed upon to receive some
overtures from France in behalf of herself and the
whole confederacy. The several steps of this nego
tiation, from its first rise to the time I am now writ-
ing, shall be related in another part of this history.
Let it suffice for the present to say that such pro-
posals were received from France as were thought
sufficient by our court whereupon to appoint time
and place for a general treaty; and soon after the
opening of the session, the bishop of Bristol, lord
privy-seal, was despatched to Utrecht, where he and
the earl of Strafford were appointed plenipotentiaries
for the queen of Great Britain.
The managers of the discontented party, who
during the whole summer had observed the motions
of the court running fast toward a peace, began to
gather up all their forces in order to oppose her ma-
jesty's designs when the parliament should meet.
Their only strength was in the house of lords, where
the queen had a very crazy majority, made up by
those whose hearts were in the other interest, but
whose fears, expectations, or immediate dependence,
had hitherto kept them within bounds.
There were
two lords upon whose abilities and influence of a
very different nature the managers built their
strongest hopes. The first was the duke of So-
merset, master of the horse. This duke, as well as
his duchess, was in a good degree of favour with the
queen, upon the score of some civilities and respects
her majesty had received from them while she was
princess. For some years after the Revolution he
never appeared at court, but was looked upon as a
favourer of the abdicated family; and it was the
late earl of Rochester who first presented him to
king William. However, since the time he came
into employment, which was toward the close of the
last reign, he has been a constant zealous member of
the other party, but never failed either in attendance
or respect toward the queen's person; or at most
only threatened sometimes that he would serve no
longer while such or such men were employed;
which as things went then was not reckoned any
offence at all against duty or good behaviour. He
had been much caressed and flattered by the lords
of the junto, who sometimes went so far as to give
him hopes of the crown in reversion to his family,
upon failure of the house of Hanover. All this
worked so far upon his imagination, that he affected
to appear the head of their party, to which his
talents were no way proportioned; for they soon
grew weary of his indigested schemes, and his im-
perious manner of obtruding them: they began to
drop him at their meetings, or contradicted him
446
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
with little ceremony when he happened to be there,
which his haughty nature was not able to brook.
Thus a mortal quarrel was kindled between him and
the whole assembly of party leaders; so that, upon
the queen's first intention of changing her ministry,
soon after the trial of Dr. Sacheverell, he appointed
several meetings with Mr. Harley alone, in the most
private manner, in places and at times least liable to
suspicion. He employed all his credit with the
queen to drive on the removal of my lord Godolphin
and the rest; and in the council treated the small
remainder who continued some time longer in their
places with all possible marks of hatred or disdain.
But when the question came for dissolving the par-
liament he stopped short; he had already satiated
his resentments, which were not against things but
persons; he furiously opposed that counsel, and pro-
mised to undertake for the parliament himself.
When the queen had declared her pleasure for the
dissolution he flew off in greater rage than ever;
opposed the court in all elections where he had in-
fluence or power; and made very humble advances
to reconcile himself with the discarded lords, espe-
pecially the earl of Godolphin, who is reported to
have treated him at Newmarket in a most con-
temptuous manner. But the sincerity of his repent-
ance, which appeared manifestly in the first session
of the new parliament, and the use he might be of
by his own remaining credit, or rather that of his
duchess, with the queen, at length begat a reconcile-
ment.
He still kept his employment and place in the ca-
binet council; but had never appeared there, from
an avowed dislike of all persons and proceedings. It
happened about the end of summer, 1711, at Wind-
sor, when the cabinet council was summoned, this
duke, whether by direction from his teachers or the
instability of his nature, took a fancy to resume his
place, and a chair was brought accordingly; upon
which, Mr. secretary St. John refused to assist, and
gave his reasons "That he would never sit in coun-
cil with a man who had so often betrayed them, and
was openly engaged with a faction which endea-
voured to obstruct all her majesty's measures.'
""
Thus the council was put off to next day, and the
duke made no further attempts to be there. But
upon this incident he declared open war against the
ministry, and from that time to the session em-
ployed himself in spiriting up several depending
lords to adhere to their friends when an occasion
should offer. The arguments he made use of were,
"That those in power designed to make an igno-
minious and insecure peace, without consulting the
allies: that this could be no otherwise prevented
than by an address from the lords to signify their
opinion that no peace could be honourable or
secure while Spain or the West Indies remained in
any of the Bourbon family; upon which several
further resolutions and inquiries would naturally
follow that the differences between the two houses
upon this point must either be made up by the
commons agreeing with the lords or must end in a
dissolution, which would be followed by a return of
the old ministry; who by the force of money and
management could easily get another parliament to
their wishes." He further assured them boldly,
"That the queen herself was at the bottom of this
design, and had empowered him to desire their
votes against the peace as a point that would be for
her service; and therefore they need not be in pain
upon account of their pensions, or any further marks
of favour they expected." Thus, by reviving the old
arts of using her majesty's authority against her
person, he prevailed over some who were not
otherwise in a station of life to oppose the crown;
and his proselytes may pretend to some share of
pity, since he offered for an argument his own ex-
ample, who kept his place and favour after all he
had done to deserve the loss of both.
The other lord in whom the discontented ma-
nagers placed much of their hopes was the earl of
Nottingham, already mentioned; than whom no
man ever appeared to hate them more or to be
more pleased at their fall; partly from his avowed
principles, but chiefly from the hopes he had of
sharing in their spoils. But it fell out that he was
no way acceptable to the queen or her new servants:
these apprehended no little trouble and impediment
to the public business from his restless, talkative,
overweening manner, if once he was suffered to
have any part in affairs; and he stood very ill with
the court, having made a motion in the house of
lords, and in her majesty's presence, "That the
electoral prince of Hanover might be invited to re-
side in England;" although he had before declared to
the queen how much he was against that proposal,
when it was first offered by the other party. How-
ever, some very considerable employments had been
given to his nearest relations; and he had one or
two offers for himself, which he thought fit to refuse
as not equal to his merits and character. Upon the
earl of Rochester's decease he conceived that the
crown would hardly overlook him for president of
the council, and deeply resented that disappoint-
ment. But the duke of Newcastle, lord privy-seal,
dying some time after, he found that office was first
designed for the earl of Jersey, and upon this lord's
sudden death was actually disposed of to the bishop
of Bristol by which he plainly saw that the queen
was determined against giving him any opportunity
of directing in affairs, or displaying his eloquence in
the cabinet council. He had now shaken off all re-
mains of patience or temper; and from the con-
templation of his own disappointments fell, as it is
natural, to find fault with the public management,
and to assure his neighbours in the country "That
the nation was in imminent danger of being ruined."
The discontented lords were soon apprised of this
great change; and the duke of Roxburgh, the earl's
son-in-law, was despatched to Burleigh-on-the-Hill,
to cultivate his present dispositions and offer him
whatever terms he pleased to insist on. The earl
immediately agreed to fall in with any measures for
distressing or destroying the ministry: but in order
to preserve his reputation with the church party and
perhaps bring them over to his interests, he pro-
posed that a bill should be brought into the house of
lords for preventing occasional conformity, and be
unanimously agreed to by all the peers of the low-
church principle; which would convince the world
of their good intentions to the established religion,
and that their oppositions to the court wholly pro-
ceeded from their care of the nation and concern for
its honour and safety.
These preparations were public enough, and the
ministers had sufficient time to arm themselves, but
they seem to have acted in this juncture like men
who trusted to the goodness of their cause and the
general inclinations of the kingdom, rather than to
those arts which our corruptions have too often made
necessary. Calculations were indeed taken, by which
it was computed that there would be a majority of
ten upon the side of the court. I remember to have
told my lord Harcourt and Mr. Prior that a majo-
rity of ten was only a majority of five, because if
their adversaries could bring off five the number
would be equal: and so it happened to prove, for
the mistake lay in counting upon the bare promises
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
447
of those who were wholly in the interest of the old
ministry, and were only kept in awe by the fear
of offending the crown and losing their subsistence,
wherein the duke of Somerset had given them full
satisfaction.
With these dispositions of both parties, and fears
and hopes of the event, the parliament met upon the
7th of December, 1711. The queen's speech (ex-
cepting what related to supplies) was chiefly taken
up in telling both houses what progress she had made
towards a general peace and her hopes of bringing
it to a speedy conclusion. As soon as her majesty
was withdrawn the house of lords, in a committee,
resolved upon an address of thanks, to which the
earl of Nottingham proposed an addition of the fol-
lowing clause:
"And we do beg leave to represent it to your
majesty, as the humble opinion and advice of this
house, that no peace can be safe or honourable to
Great Britain and Europe if Spain and the West
Indies are to be allotted to any branch of the house
of Bourbon
He was seconded by the earl of Scarborough;
and after a debate of several hours the question for
the clause was carried, as I remember, by not above
two voices. The next day the house agreed with
the committee. The depending lords (having taken
fresh courage from their principals and some who
professed themselves very humble servants to the
present ministry and enemies to the former) went
along with the stream, pretending not to see the
Consequences that must visibly follow. The address
was presented on the 11th, to which her majesty's
answer was short and dry. She distinguished their
thanks from the rest of the piece, and in return to
lord Nottingham's clause said, "She should be sorry
that anybody could think she would not do her
utmost to recover Spain and the West Indies from
the house of Bourbon."
Upon the 15th of December the earl of Notting-
ham likewise brought in the bill to prevent occa-
sional conformity (although under a disguised title),
which met with no opposition, but was swallowed
by those very lords who always appeared with the
utmost violence against the least advantage to the
established church.
But in the house of commons there appeared a
very different spirit, for when one Mr. Robert Wal-
pole offered a clause of the same nature with that
of the earl of Nottingham it was rejected with con-
tempt by a very great majority. Their address was,
in the most dutiful manner, approving of what her
najesty had done toward a peace, and trusting en-
tirely to her wisdom in the future management of it.
This address was presented to the queen a day
before that of the lords, and received an answer
distinguishedly gracious. But the other party was
nowise discouraged by either answer, which they
looked upon as only matter of course, and the sense
of the ministry, contrary to that of the queen.
The parliament sat as long as the approaching
festival would allow, and upon the 22nd, the land-
tax and occasional bills having received the royal
assent, the house of commons adjourned to the 14th
of January following; but the adjournment of the
lords was only to the 2nd, the prevailing party there
being in haste to pursue the consequences of the
earl of Nottingham's clause, which they hoped would
end in the ruin of the treasurer, and overthrow the
ministry, and therefore took the advantage of this
interval that they might not be disturbed by the
commons.
When this address against any peace without
Spain, &c., was carried in the house of lords, it is not
easy to describe the effects it had upon most men's
passions. The partisans of the old ministry triumphed
loudly and without any reserve, as if the game were
their own.
The earl of Wharton was observed in
the house to smile and put his hands to his neck
when any of the ministry were speaking, by which
he would have it understood that some heads were
in danger. Parker, the chief-justice, began already
with great zeal and officiousness to prosecute authors
and printers of weekly and other papers writ in de-
fence of the administration; in short, joy and ven-
geance sat visible in every countenance of that party
On the other side, all well-wishers to the queen,
the church, or the peace, were equally dejected;
and the treasurer stood the foremost mark both of
his enemies' fury and the censure of his friends:
among the latter, some imputed this fatal miscarriage
to his procrastinating nature; others to his unmea-
surable public thrift. Both parties agreed that a
first minister with very moderate skill in affairs
might easily have governed the event; and some
began to doubt whether the great fame of his abili-
ties, acquired in other stations, were what he justly
deserved. All this he knew well enough, and heard
it with great phlegm; neither did it make any alter-
ation in his countenance or humour. He told Mon-
sieur Buys, the Dutch envoy, two days before the
| parliament sat, "That he was sorry for what was
likely to pass, because the States would be the first
sufferers, which he desired the envoy to remember."
And to his nearest friends, who appeared in pain
about the public or themselves, he only said “That
all would be well;" and desired them not to be
frighted.
It was I conceive upon these motives that the
treasurer advised her majesty to create twelve new
lords, and thereby disable the sting of faction for
the rest of her lifetime. This promotion was so
ordered that a third part were of those on whom, or
their posterity, the peerage would naturally devolve;
and the rest were such whose merit, birth, and fortune
could admit of no exception.
The adverse party, being thus driven down by
open force, had nothing left but to complain, which
they loudly did-"That it was a pernicious ex-
ample set for ill princes to follow, who by the same
rule might make at any time a hundred as well as
| twelve, and by these means become masters of the
house of lords whenever they pleased, which would
be dangerous to our liberties." To this it was an-
swered "That ill princes seldom trouble themselves
to look for precedents; that men of great estates will
not be less fond of preserving their liberties when
they are created peers; that in such a government
as this, where the prince holds the balance between
two great powers, the nobility and people, it is the
very nature of his office to remove from one scale into
the other, or sometimes put his own weight in the
lightest, so as to bring both to an equilibrium; and
lastly, that the other party had been above twenty
years corrupting the nobility with republican prin-
ciples, which nothing but the royal prerogative could
hinder from overspreading us."
The conformity-bill above mentioned was pre-
pared by the earl of Nottingham before the parlia-
ment met, and brought in at the same time with the
clause against peace, according to the bargain made
between him and his new friends. This he hoped
would not only save his credit with the church party,
but bring them over to his politics, since they must
needs be convinced, that instead of changing his
own principles he had prevailed on the greatest
enemies to the established religion to be the first
movers in a law for the perpetual settlement of it.
448
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
Here it was worth observing with what resignation
the junto lords (as they were then called) were
submitted to by their adherents and followers, for it
is well known that the chief among the dissenting
teachers in town were consulted upon this affair, and
such arguments used as had power to convince them
that nothing could be of greater advantage to their
cause than the passing of this bill. I did indeed see
a letter at that time from one of them to a great
man complaining "That they were betrayed and
undone by their pretended friends;" but they were
in general very well satisfied upon promises that
this law should soon be repealed and others more in
their favour enacted as soon as their friends should
be re-established.
But nothing seemed more extraordinary than the
event of this refined management, by which the earl
of Nottingham was so far from bringing over pro-
selytes (wherein his abilities fell very short even of the
duke of Somerset's), or preserving the reputation of
a firm churchman, that very few people did so much
as imagine he had any such design; only when he
brought in the bill they conceived it was some won-
derful deep reach of politics, which they could not com-
prehend: however, they liked the thing, and with-
out troubling themselves about the persons or mo-
tives from whence it rose it had a very speedy
passage through both houses. It must be confessed
that some attempt of this nature was much more
necessary to the leaders of that party than is gene-
rally thought. The desire of power and revenge
was common to them all; but several among them
were also conscious that they stood in need of pro-
tection, whose safety was therefore concerned in the
design of ruining the ministry as well as their am-
bition. The duke of Marlborough foresaw those
examinations which were afterwards made into some
parts of his management, and was apprehensive of a
great deal more; that the parliament would perhaps
inquire into the particulars of the 1 egotiation at the
Hague, 1709; for what ends and by whose advice
the propositions of peace from France were rejected.
peace from France were rejected.
Besides, he dreaded lest that mysterious policy
might be laid open to the world, of desiring the
queen to constitute him general for life, which was
a very tender point and would adınit of much proof.
It is true indeed that, while the duke's affair was
under the consideration of the house of commons,
one of his creatures (whether by direction or other-
wise) assured the speaker with a very serious coun-
tenance "that the world was mistaken in censuring
his lord upon this article, for it was the queen who
pressed the duke to accept that commission, and
upon his humble refusal conceived her first displea-
sure against him." How such a defence would
have passed if it had been offered in form is easier
to be conceived than how any person in his wits
could have the confidence to affirin it, which last it
would indeed be hard to believe if there were any
room left for doubt.
The earl of Godolphin wanted protection notwith-
standing the act of general pardon which had been
procured by his credit, and was principally calculated
for his own security. He knew that his long neglect
of compelling the accomptants to pass their accompts
might be punished as a breach of trust. He had
run the kingdom into immense debts by taking up
stores for the navy upon a vast discount, without
parliamentary security, for which he could be able
to plead neither law nor necessity; and he had given
way at least to some proceedings not very justifiable
in relation to remittances of money, whereby the
public had suffered considerable losses. The bar-
rier treaty sat heavy upon the lord Townshend's
|
spirits, because, if it should be laid before the house
of commons, whoever negotiated that affair might be
subject to the most severe animadversions; and the
earl of Wharton's administration in Ireland was
looked upon as a sufficient ground to impeach him
at least for high crimes and misdemeanors.
The managers in Holland were sufficiently ap-
prised of all this; and Monsieur Buys, their minis-
ter here, took care to cultivate that good correspond-
ence between his masters and their English friends
which became two confederates pursuing the same
end.
This man had been formerly employed in England
from that republic, and understood a little of our
language. His proficiency in learning has been
such as to furnish now and then a Latin quotation,
of which he is as liberal as his stock will admit.
His knowledge in government reaches no further
than that of his own country, by which he forms and
cultivates matters of state for the rest of the world.
His reasonings upon politics are with great profusion
at all meetings, and he leaves the company with entire
satisfaction that he has fully convinced them. He
is well provided with that inferior sort of cunning
which is the growth of his country, of a standard
with the genius of the people, and capable of being
transferred into every condition of life among them
from the boor to the burgomaster. He came into
England with instructions authorizing him to ac-
commodate all differences between her majesty and
the States; but having first advised with the confe-
derate lords, he assured the ministry "he had powers
to hear their proposals, but none to conclude :" and
having represented to his masters what had been told
him by the adverse party, he prevailed with them
to revoke his powers. He found the interest of
those who withstood the court would exactly fall in
with the designs of the States, which were to carry
on the war as they could at our expense, and to see
themselves at the head of a treaty of peace, whenever
they were disposed to apply to France or to receive
overtures from thence.
The emperor, upon many powerful reasons, was
utterly averse from all counsels which aimed at put-
ting an end to the war without delivering him the
whole dominion of Spain.
whole dominion of Spain. Nay, the elector of Han-
over himself, although presumptive heir to the crown
of England, and obliged by all sorts of ties to cul
tivate her majesty's friendship, was so far deceived
by misrepresentations from hence, that he seemed to
suffer Monsieur Bothmar, his envoy here, to print
and publish a memorial in English, directly disap-
proving all her majesty's proceedings; which memo-
rial, as appears by the style and manner of it, was
all drawn up or at least digested by some party pen
on this side of the water.
Cautious writers, in order to avoid offence or
danger and to preserve the respect ever due to foreign
princes, do usually charge the wrong steps in a court
altogether upon the persons employed. But I should
have taken a securer method, and have been wholly
silent on this point, if I had not then conceived
some hope that his electoral highness might possi-
bly have been a stranger to the memorial of his resi-
dent: for, first, the manner of delivering it to the
secretary of state was out of all form, and almost as
extraordinary as the thing itself. Monsieur Both-
mar, having obtained an hour of Mr. secretary St.
John, talked much to him upon the subject of which
that memorial consists; and upon going away de-
sired he might leave a paper with the secretary,
which he said contained the substance of what he
had been discoursing. This paper Mr. St. John laid
aside among others of little consequence; and a
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
449
few days after saw a memorial in print, which he
found upon comparing to be the same with what
Bothmar had left.
During this short recess of parliament, and upon
the 5th day of January, prince Eugene of Savoy
landed in England. Before he left his ship, he asked
a person who came to meet him, "Whether the new
lords were made, and what was their number ?" He
was attended through the streets with a mighty rab-
ble of people to St. James's; where Mr. secretary
St. John introduced him to the queen, who received
him with great civility. His arrival had been long
expected; and the project of his journey had as long
been formed here, by the party leaders, in concert
with Monsieur Buys and Monsieur Bothmar, the
Dutch and Hanover envoys. This prince brought
over credentials from the emperor, with offers to con-
tinue the war on a new foot, very advantageous to
Britain; part of which, by her majesty's commands,
Mr. St. John soon after produced to the house of
commons, where they were rejected, not without
some indignation, by a great majority. The empe-
ror's proposals, as far as they related to Spain, were
communicated to the house in the words following:
"His imperial majesty judges that forty thousand
men will be sufficient for this service; and that the
whole expense of the war in Spain may amount to
four millions of crowns; toward which his imperial
majesty offers to make up the troops which he has
in that country to thirty thousand men, and to take
one million of crowns upon himself."
On the other side, the house of commons voted
a third part of those four millions as a sufficient
quota for her majesty toward that service: for it was
supposed the emperor ought to bear the greatest pro-
portion, in a point that so nearly concerned him: or
at least, that Britain contributing one-third, the other
two might be paid by his imperial majesty and the
States, as they could settle it between them.
The design of prince Eugene's journey was to
raise a spirit in the parliament and people for con-
tinuing the war; for nothing was thought impossible
to a prince of such high reputation in arms, in great
favour with the emperor, and empowered to make
such proposals from his master, as the ministry durst
not reject. It appeared by an intercepted letter from
count Gallas (formerly the emperor's envoy here),
that the prince was wholly left to his liberty of
making what offers he pleased in the emperor's
name; for if the parliament could once be brought
to raise funds, and the war go on, the ministry here
must be under a necessity of applying and expending
those funds: and the emperor could find afterwards
twenty reasons and excuses as he had hitherto done for
not furnishing his quota. Therefore prince Eugene
for some time kept himself within generals; until,
being pressed to explain himself upon that particular
of the war in Spain, which the house of Austria
pretended to have most at heart, he made the offer
above mentioned, as a most extraordinary effort; and
so it was, considering how little they had ever done
before towards recovering that monarchy to them-
selves but shameful as these proposals were, few
believed the emperor would observe them; or indeed
that he ever intended to spare so many men, as would
make up an army of thirty thousand men to be em-
ployed in Spain.
Prince Eugene's visit to his friends in England
continued longer than was expected. He was every
day entertained magnificently by persons of quality
of both parties. He went frequently to the trea-
surer, and sometimes affected to do it in private. He
visited the other ministers and great officers of the
court: but on all occasions, publicly owned the
VOL. I.
character and appellation of a Whig; and in secret
held continual meetings with the duke of Marl-
borough and the other discontented lords, where M.
Bothmar usually assisted. It is the great ambition of
this prince to be perpetually engaged in war, without
considering the cause or consequence; and to see
himself at the head of an army, where only he can
make any considerable figure. He is not without a
natural tincture of that cruelty sometimes charged
upon the Italians; and his being nursed in arms has
so far extinguished pity and remorse, that he will at
any time sacrifice a thousand men's lives to a ca-
price of glory or revenge.
He had conceived an in-
curable hatred for the treasurer, as the person who
principally opposed this insatiable passion for war;
said, "He had hopes of others; but that the trea-
surer was un mechant diable, not to be moved."
Therefore, since it was impossible for him or his
friends to compass their designs, while that minister
continued at the head of affairs, he proposed an ex-
pedient often practised by those of his country, “that
the treasurer (to use his own expression) should
be taken off à la negligence; that this might be easily
done and pass for an effect of chance, if it were pre-
ceded by encouraging some proper people to commit
small riots in the night." And in several parts of
the town a crew of obscure ruffians were accordingly
employed about that time, who probably exceeded
their commission, and mixing themselves with those
disorderly people that often infest the streets at
midnight, acted inhuman outrages on many persons,
whom they cut and mangled in the face and arms
and other parts of the body without any provocation.
But an effectual stop was soon put to those enormi-
ties, which probably prevented the execution of the
main design.
I am very sensible that such an imputation ought
not to be charged upon any person whatsoever, upon
slight grounds or doubtful surmises; and that those
who think I am able to produce no better will judge
this passage to be fitter for a libel than a history.
But as the account was given by more than one per-
son who was at the meeting, so it was confirmed
past all contradiction by several intercepted letters
and papers and it is most certain that the rage of
the defeated party, upon their frequent disappoint-
ments, was so far inflamed as to make them capable
of some counsels yet more violent and desperate
than this; which however by the vigilance of those
near the person of her majesty were happily pre-
vented.
On the 30th day of December, 1711, the duke of
Marlborough was removed from all his employments;
the duke of Ormond succeeding him as general, both
here and in Flanders. This proceeding of the court
(as far as it related to the duke of Marlborough) was
much censured both at home and abroad, and by some
who did not wish ill to the present situation of
affairs. There were few examples of a commander
being disgraced, after an uninterrupted course of
success, for many years, against a formidable enemy,
and this before a period was put to the war. Those
who had least esteem for his valour and conduct
thought it not prudent to remove a general whose
troops were perpetually victorious while he was at
their head; because this had infused into his soldiers.
an opinion that they should always conquer, and into
the enemy that they should always be beaten; than
which nothing is to be held of greater moment, either
in the progress of a war or upon the day of battle :
and I have good grounds to affirm, that these reasons
had sufficient weight with the queen and ministry, to
have kept the duke of Marlborough in his post, if a
way could have been found out to have done it with
2 G
450
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
any assurance of safety to the nation. It is the mis-
fortune of princes, that the effects of their displea-
sure make usually much more noise than the causes.
Thus the sound of the duke's fall was heard further
than many of the reasons which made it necessary;
whereof, though some were visible enough, yet others
lay more in the dark. Upon the duke's last return
from Flanders, he had fixed his arrival to town
(whether by accident or otherwise) upon the 17th of
November, called queen Elizabeth's day; when great
numbers of his creatures and admirers had thought
fit to revive an old ceremony among the rabble, of
burning the pope in effigy; for the performance of
which with more solemnity they had made extraor-
dinary preparations. From the several circumstances
of the expense of this intended pageantry, and of
the persons who promoted it, the court, apprehensive
of a design to inflame the common people, thought
fit to order that the several figures should be seized
as popish trinkets; and guards were ordered to
patrole for preventing any tumultuous assemblies.
Whether this frolic was only intended for an affront
to the court, or whether it had a deeper meaning, I
must leave undetermined. The duke, in his own
nature, is not much turned to be popular; and in his
flourishing times, whenever he came back to England
upon the close of a campaign, he rather affected to
avoid any concourse of the mobile, if they had been
disposed to attend him: therefore, so very contrary
a proceeding at this juncture made it suspected as
if he had a design to have placed himself at their
head. "France," "Popery," "The Pretender,"
"The Pretender," |
"Peace without Spain," were the words to be given
about at this mock parade; and if what was confi-
dently asserted be truc, that a report was to have
been spread at the same time of the queen's death,
no man can tell what might have been the event.
But this attempt, to whatever purposes intended,
proving wholly abortive by the vigilance of those in
power, the duke's arrival was without any noise or
consequence; and upon consulting with his friends,
he soon fell in with their new scheme for preventing
the peace. It was believed by many persons that
the ministers might with little difficulty have brought
him over, if they had pleased to make a trial; for,
as he would probably have accepted any terms, to
continue in a station of such prodigious profit, so
there was sufficient room to work upon his fears, of
which he is seldom unprovided (I mean only in his
political capacity), and this infirmity very much in-
creased by his unmeasurable possessions, which have
rendered him ipsique onerique timentem. But reason,
as well as the event, proved this to be a mistake;
for the ministers being determined to bring the war
to as speedy an issue as the honour and safety of
their country would permit, could not possibly recom-
pense the duke for the mighty incomes he held by the
continuance of it. Then, the other party had calcu-
lated their numbers; and by the accession of the
earl of Nottingham, whose example they hoped
would have many followers, and the successful soli-
citations of the duke of Somerset, found they were
sure of a majority in the house of lords; so that in
this view of circumstances the duke of Marlborough
thought he acted with security, as well as advantage.
He therefore boldly fell, with his whole weight, into
the design of ruining the ministry, at the expense of
his duty to his sovereign and the welfare of his
country, after the mighty obligations he had received
from both. WHIG and TORY were now no longer the
dispute; but THE QUEEN, or THE DUKE OF MARL-
BOROUGH. He was at the head of all the cabals and
consults with Bothmar, Buys, and the discontented
lords. He forgot that government of his passion for
which his admirers used to celebrate him: fell into all
the impotences of anger and violence upon every
party debate: so that the queen found herself under
a necessity, either on the one side to sacrifice those
friends who had ventured their lives in rescuing her
out of the power of some, whose former treatment she
had little reason to be fond of; to put an end to the
progress she had made towards a peace, and dissolve
her parliament; or on the other side, by removing one
person from so great a trust, to get clear of all her
difficulties at once. Her majesty therefore determined
upon the latter, as the shorter and safer course; and
during the recess at Christmas sent the duke a letter,
to tell him she had no further occasion for his service.
There has not perhaps in the present age been a
clearer instance to show the instability of greatness
which is not founded upon virtue; and it may be an
instruction to princes, who are well in the hearts of
their people, that the overgrown power of any per-
ticular person, although supported by exorbitant
wealth, can by a little resolution be reduced in a
moment without any dangerous consequences. This
lord, who was beyond all comparison the greatest
subject in Christendom, found his power, credit, and
influence, crumble away on a sudden; and except a
few friends or followers by inclination, the rest
dropped off in course. From directing in some
manner the affairs of Europe, he descended to be a
member of a faction, and with little distinction even
there; that virtue of subduing his resentments, for
which he was so famed when he had little or no oc-
casion to exert it, having now wholly forsaken him
when he stood most in need of its assistance; and
upon trial was found unable to bear a reverse of for-
tune, giving way to rage, impatience, envy, and dis-
content.
BOOK THE SECOND.
THE house of lords met upon the 2nd day of Janu-
ary, according to their adjournment; but before
they could proceed to business the twelve new
created peers were, in the usual form, admitted to
their seats in that assembly; who by their numbers
turned the balance on the side of the court, and
voted an adjournment to the same day with the
Commons. Upon the 14th of January the two
houses met: but the queen, who intended to be
there in person, sent a message to inform them
"That she was prevented by a sudden return of the
gout; and to desire they would adjourn for three
days longer, when her majesty hoped she should be
able to speak to them." However, her indisposition
still continuing, Mr. secretary St. John brought
another message to the house of commons from the
queen, containing the substance of what she intend-
ed to have spoken: "That she could now tell them
her plenipotentiaries were arrived at Utrecht; had
begun, in pursuance of her instructions, to concert
the most proper ways of procuring a just satisfaction
to all powers in alliance with her, according to their
several treaties, and particularly with relation to
Spain and the West Indies: That she promised to
communicate to them the conditions of peace, before
the same should be concluded: That the world
would now see how groundless these reports were
and without the least colour, that a separate
peace had been treated: That her ministers were
directed to propose that a day might be fixed for the
finishing, as was done for the commencement, of
this treaty; and that, in the mean time, all prepara-
tions were hastening for an early campaign," &c.
Her majesty's endeavours towards this great work
having been in such a forwardness at the time that
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
451
her message was sent, I shall here, as in the most
proper place, relate the several steps by which the
intercourse between the courts of France and Bri-
tain was begun and carried on.
The marquis de Torcy, sent by the most christian
king to the Hague, had there, in the year 1709,
made very advantageous offers to the allies in his
master's name, which our ministers, as well as
those of the States, thought fit to refuse, and ad-
vanced other proposals in their stead; but of such a
nature as no prince could digest who did not lie at
the immediate mercy of his enemies. It was de-
manded, among other things, "That the French
king should employ his own troops, in conjunction
with those of the allies, to drive his grandson out of
Spain." The proposers knew very well that the
enemy would never consent to this; and if it were
possible they could at first have any such hopes,
Mons. de Torcy assured them to the contrary in a
manner which might well be believed; for when
the British and Dutch plenipotentiaries were draw-
ing up their demands, they desired that minister to
assist them in the style and expression; which he
very readily did, and made use of the strongest
words he could find to please them. He then in-
sisted to know their last resolution, whether these
were the lowest terms the allies would accept; and,
having received a determinate answer in the affirm-
ative, he spoke to this effect:-
"That he thanked them heartily for giving him
the happiest day he had ever seen in his life: That
in perfect obedience to his master he had made con-
cessions in his own opinion highly derogatory to
the king's honour and interest: That he had not
concealed the difficulties of his court or the discon-
tents of his country by a long and unsuccessful war,
which could only justify the large offers he had
been empowered to make: That the conditions of
peace now delivered into his hands by the allies
would raise a new spirit in the nation and remove
the greatest difficulty the court lay under; putting
it in his master's power to convince all his subjects
how earnestly his majesty desired to ease them from
the burden of the war; but that his enemies would
not accept of any terms which could consist either
with their safety or his honour." Mons. de Torcy
assured the pensionary, in the strongest manner, and
bid him count upon it, "That the king his master
would never sign those articles.”
It soon appeared that the marquis de Torcy's pre-
dictions were true; for upon delivering to his mas-
ter the last resolutions of the allies, that prince took
care to publish them all over his kingdom as an
appeal to his subjects against the unreasonableness
and injustice of his enemies; which proceeding
effectually answered the utmost he intended by it;
for the French nation, extremely jealous of their
monarch's glory, made universal offers of their lives
and fortunes rather than submit to such ignominious
terms; and the clergy, in particular, promised to
give the king their consecrated plate towards con-
tinuing the war. Thus that mighty kingdom (gene-
rally thought to be wholly exhausted of its wealth),
when driven to a necessity by the imprudence of the
allies or by the corruption of particular men who
influenced their councils, recovered strength enough
to support itself for three following campaigns; and
in the last, by the fatal blindness or obstinacy of the
Dutch (venturing to act without the assistance of
Britain, which they had shamefully abandoned), was
an overmatch for the whole confederate army.
Those who, in order to defend the proceedings of
the allies, have given an account of this negotiation,
do wholly omit the circumstance I have now related;
and express the zeal of the British and Dutch minis-
ters for a peace, by informing us how frequently they
sent after Mons. de Torcy and Mons. Rouille for a
further conference. But in the mean time Mr. Ho-
ratio Walpole, secretary to the queen's plenipoten-
tiaries, was dispatched over hither to have those
abortive articles signed and ratified by her majesty
at a venture; which was accordingly done: a piece
of management altogether absurd and without ex-
ample; contrived only to deceive our people into
a belief that a peace was intended, and to show what
great things the ministry designed to do.
But this hope expiring, upon the news that
France had refused to sign those articles, all was re-
solved by recourse to the old topic of the French
perfidiousness. We loaded them plentifully with
ignominious appellations: "they were a nation
never to be trusted." The parliament cheerfully
continued their supplies, and the war went on.
The winter following began the second and last ses-
sion of the preceding parliament, noted for the trial
of Dr. Sacheverell, and the occasions thereby given
to the people to discover and exert their dispositions
very opposite to the designs of those who were then
in power.
In the summer of 1710 ensued a gradual
change of the ministry, and in the beginning of that
winter the present parliament was called.
The king of France, whose real interests made
him sincerely desirous of any tolerable peace, found
it impossible to treat upon equal conditions with
either of the two maritime powers engaged against
him, because of the prevalency of factions in both,
who acted in concert to their mutual private advan-
tage, although directly against the general dispositions
of the people in either, as well as against their several
maxims of government. But upon the great turn of
affairs and councils here in England, the new par-
liament and ministers acting from other motives and
upon other principles, that prince hoped an oppor-
tunity might arise of resuming his endeavours toward
a peace.
There was at this time in England a French eccle-
siastic, called the Abbé Gualtier, who had resided
several years in London, under the protection of
some foreign ministers in whose families he used
upon occasion to exercise his function of a priest.
After the battle of Blenheim this gentleman went
down to Nottingham, where several French prison-
ers of quality were kept; to whom he rendered
those offices of civility suitable to persons in their
condition, which upon their return to France they
reported to his advantage. Among the rest the Che-
valier de Croissy told his brother, the marquis de
Torcy, "That whenever the French court would
have a mind to make overtures of peace with Eng-
land, Monsieur Gualtier might be very usefully em-
ployed in handing them to the ministers here." This
was no further thought of at present. In the mean
time the war went on, and the conferences at the
Hague and Gertruydenberg miscarried, by the allies
insisting upon such demands as they neither expected
nor perhaps desired should be granted.
Some time in July, 1710, Monsieur Gualtier re-
ceived a letter from the marquis de Torcy, signifying
"That a report being spread of her majesty's inten-
tions to change her ministry, to take Mr. Harley
into her councils, and to dissolve her parliament,
the most Christian king thought it might be now a
favourable conjuncture to offer new proposals of a
treaty." Monsieur Gualtier was therefore directed
to apply himself in the marquis's name either to the
duke of Shrewsbury, the earl of Jersey, or Mr. Har-
ley, and inform the French court how such a pro-
position would be relished. Gualtier chose to de-
2 G 2
452
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
liver his message to the second of those who had
been ambassador from the late king to France. But
the earl excused himself from entering into particu-
lars with a stranger and a private person, who had
no authority for what he said more than a letter
from Monsieur de Torcy. Gualtier offered to pro-
cure another from that minister to the earl himself;
and did so in a month after; but obtained no an-
swer till December following, when the queen had
made all necessary changes and summoned a free
parliament to her wishes. About the beginning of
January, the abbé (after having procured his dis-
mission from Count Gallas, the emperor's envoy, at
that time his protector) was sent to Paris to inform
Mons. de Torcy, "That her majesty would be wil-
ling his master should resume the treaty with Hol-
land, provided the demands of England might be
previously granted." Gualtier came back after a
short stay with a return to his message, "That the
Dutch had used the most Christian king and his
ministers in such a manner, both at the Hague and
Gertruydenberg, as made that prince resolve not to
expose himself any more to the like treatment; that
he therefore chose to address himself to England,
and was ready to make whatever offers her majesty
could reasonably expect for the advantage of her
own kingdoms and the satisfaction of her allies."
After this message had been duly considered by
the queen and her ministers, Monsieur Gualtier was
dispatched a second time to France about the be-
ginning of March 1710-11, with an answer to the
following purpose:-"That since France had their
particular reasons for not beginning again to treat
with Holland, England was willing to remove that
difficulty, and proposed it should be done in this
manner: That France should send over hither the
propositions for a treaty which should be transmitted
by England to Holland to be jointly treated on that
side of the water; but it was to be understood that
the same proposition formerly offered to Holland
was to be made to England, or one not less advan-
tageous to the allies: for although England would
enter most sincerely into such a treaty, and show in
the course of it the clearness of their intentions, yet
they could not with honour entertain a less benefi-
cial proposal than what was offered to the States."
That prince, as well as his minister Monsieur de
Torcy, either felt or affected so much resentment of
the usage the latter had met at the Hague and Ger-
truydenberg, that they appeared fully determined
against making any application to the States, where
the same persons continued still in power, of whose
treatment they so heavily complained. They seemed
altogether to distrust the inclination of that republic
towards a peace; but at the same time showed a
mighty complaisance to the English nation, and a
desire to have her majesty at the head of a treaty.
This appears by the first overture in form sent from
that kingdom, and signed by Mons. de Torcy on the
22nd of April, N. S., 1711, to the following effect:
"That as it could not be doubted but the king
was in a condition of continuing the war with
honour, so it could not be looked on as a mark of
weakness in his majesty to break the silence he had
kept since the conferences at Gertruydenberg, and
that before the opening of the campaign he now
gives further proof of the desire he always had to
procure the repose of Europe. But after what he
has found by experience of the sentiments of those
persons who now govern the republic of Holland,
and of their industry in rendering all negotiations
without effect, his majesty will, for the public good,
offer to the English nation those propositions which
he thinks fit to make for terminating the war, and
for settling the tranquillity of Europe upon a solid
foundation. It is with this view that he offers to
enter into a treaty of peace founded on the following
conditions:
"First, The English nation shall have real secu-
rities for carrying on their trade in Spain, the Indies,
and ports of the Mediterranean.
Secondly, The king will consent to form a suffi-
cient barrier in the Low Countries for the security
of the republic of Holland; and this barrier shall be
such as England shall agree upon and approve; his
majesty promising at the same time entire liberty
and security to the trade of the Dutch.
"Thirdly, All reasonable methods shall be
thought of with sincerity and truth, for giving
satisfaction to the allies of England and Holland.
Fourthly, Whereas the affairs of the king of
Spain are in so good a condition as to furnish new
expedients for putting an end to the disputes about
that monarchy, and for settling it to the satisfaction
of the several parties concerned, all sincere endea-
vours shall be used for surmounting the difficulties
arisen upon this occasion; and the trade and in-
terest of all parties engaged in the present war shall
be secured.
"Fifthly, The conferences, in order to treat of a
peace upon these conditions, shall be immediately
opened; and the plenipotentiaries whom the king
shall name to assist thereat shall treat with those of
England and Holland, either alone or in conjunc-
tion with those of their allies, as England shall choose.
"Sixthly, His majesty proposes the town of Aix
la Chapelle or Liege for the place where the pleni-
potentiaries shall assemble; leaving the choice like-
wise to England of either of the said towns wherein
to treat of a general peace."
The
These overtures, although expressing much confi-
dence in the ministry here, great deference to the
queen, and displeasure against the Dutch, were im-
mediately transmitted by her majesty's command to
her ambassador in Holland, with orders that they
should be communicated to the pensionary.
Abbé Gualtier was desired to signify this proceeding
to the marquis de Torcy; at the same time to let
that minister understand "that some of the above
articles ought to be explained." The lord Raby,
now earl of Strafford, was directed to tell the pen-
sionary "That her majesty being resolved in mak-
ing peace as in making war, to act in perfect concert
with the States, would not lose a moment in trans-
mitting to him a paper of this importance: That the
queen earnestly desired that the secret might be
kept among as few as possible; and that she hoped
the pensionary would advise upon this occasion with
no person whatsoever, except such as by the consti-
tution of that government are unavoidably neces-
sary: That the terms of the several propositions
were indeed too general; but, however, they con-
tained an offer to treat: and that, although there
appeared an air of complaisance to England through
the whole paper, and the contrary to Holland, yet
this could have no ill consequence as long as the
queen and the States took care to understand each
other, and to act with as little reserve as became
two powers so nearly allied in interest; which rule.
on the part of Britain should be inviolably observed."
It was signified likewise to the pensionary "That
the duke of Marlborough had no communication of
this affair from England, and that it was supposed.
he would have none from the Hague.”
After these proposals had been considered in
Holland, the ambassador was directed to send back
the opinion of the Dutch ministers upon them. The
court here was indeed apprehensive that the pen-
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
453
sionary would be alarmed at the whole frame of
Monsieur de Torcy's paper, and particularly at these
expressions, "That the English shall have real se-
curities for their trade, &c.; and that the barrier
for the States General shall be such as England
shall agree upon and approve." It was natural to
think that the fear which the Dutch would conceive
of our obtaining advantageous terms for Britain,
inight put them upon trying underhand for them-
selves, and endeavouring to overreach us in the
management of the peace as they had hitherto done
in that of the war; the ambassador was therefore
cautioned to be very watchful in discovering any
workings which might tend that way.
When the lord Raby was first sent to the Hague,
the duke of Marlborough and lord Townshend had,
for very obvious reasons, used their utmost endea-
vours to involve him in as many difficulties as they
could; upon which and other accounts, needless to
mention, it was thought proper that his grace, then
in Flanders, should not be let into the secret of this
affair.
The proposal of Aix or Liege for a place of treaty
was only a further mark of their old discontent
against Holland, to show they would not name any
town which belonged to the States.
The pensionary, having consulted those who had
been formerly employed in the negotiations of peace,
and enjoined them the utmost secrecy to avoid the
jealousy of the foreign ministers there, desired the
ambassador to return her majesty thanks for the
obliging manner of communicating the French over-
tures, for the confidence she placed in the States,
and for her promise of making no step towards a
peace but in concert with them; assuring her of the
like on their part: "That although the States en-
deavoured to hide it from the enemy, they were as
weary of the war as we, and very heartily desirous
of a good and lasting peace, as well as ready to join
in any method which her majesty should think pro-
per to obtain it: That the States looked upon these
propositions as very dark and general; and they
observed how the enemy would create jealousies
between the queen, their republic, and the other
allies;
but they were satisfied it would have no
effect, and relied entirely on the justness and pru-
dence of her majesty, who they doubted not would
make the French explain themselves more parti-
cularly in the several points of their proposals, and
send a plan of the particular conditions whereupon
they would make a peace; after which the States
would be ready either to join with her majesty or to
make their objections; and were prepared to bring
with them all the facility imaginable towards pro-
moting so good a work."
This is the sum of the verbal answer made by the
pensionary upon communicating to him the French
proposals; and I have chosen to set it down, rather
than transcribe the other given to the ambassador
some days after; which was more in form and to
the same purpose, but shorter, and in my opinion
not so well discovering the true disposition of the
Dutch ministers: for after the queen had transmitted
the French overtures to Holland, and the States
found her majesty was bent in earnest upon the
thoughts of a peace, they began to cast about how to
get the negotiation into their own hands. They
knew that whatever power received the first pro-
posals would be wise enough to stipulate something
for themselves; as they had done in their own case
both at the Hague and Gertruydenberg, where they
carved as they pleased without any regard to the
interests of their nearest allies. For this reason,
while they endeavoured to amuse the British court
with expostulations upon the several preliminaries
sent from France, Monsieur Petecum, a forward
meddling agent of Holstein who had resided some
years in Holland, negotiated with Heinsius the
grand pensionary, as well as with Vanderdussen and
Buys, about restoring the conferences between
France and that republic, broken off in Gertruyden.
berg; pursuant to which, about the end of May,
N. S. 1711, Petecum wrote to the marquis de Torcy,
with the privity of the pensionary and probably of
the other two. The substance of his letter was to
inform the marquis "That things might easily be
disposed so as to settle a correspondence between
that crown and the republic, in order to renew the
treaty of peace: That this could be done with the
greater secrecy, because Monsieur Heinsius, by vir-
tue of his oath as pensionary, might keep any affair
private as long as he thought necessary and was not
obliged to communicate it until he believed things
were ripe; and as long as he concealed it from his
masters, he was not bound to discover it either to
the ministers of the emperor or those of her British
majesty: That since England thought it proper for
king Charles to continue the whole campaign in
Catalonia (though he should be chosen emperor), in
order to support the war in Spain, it was necessary
for France to treat in the most secret manner with
the States, who were not now so violently as for-
merly against having Philip on the Spanish throne,
upon certain conditions for securing their trade;
but were jealous of England's design to fortify some
trading towns in Spain for themselves: That Hein-
sius extremely desired to get out of the war, for
some reasons which he (Petecum) was not permitted
to tell; and that Vanderdussen and Buys were im-
patient to have the negotiations with France once
more set on foot; which, if Monsieur Torcy thought
fit to consent to, Petecum engaged that the States.
would determine to settle the preliminaries in the
mid-way between Paris and the Hague, with what-
ever ministers the most christian king should please
to employ."
Monsieur Torcy refused this overture; and in his
answer to Monsieur Petecum assigned for the
reason the treatment his master's former proposals
had met with at the Hague and Gertruydenberg
from the ministers of Holland. Britain and Hol-
land seemed pretty well agreed that those proposals
were too loose and imperfect to be a foundation for
entering upon a general treaty; and Monsieur
Gualtier was desired to signify to the French court
"That it was expected they should explain them-
selves more particularly on the several articles."
Her ma-
But in the mean time the queen was firmly re-
solved that the interests of her own kingdoms should
not be neglected at this juncture, as they had for-
merly twice been while the Dutch were principal
managers of a negotiation with France.
jesty had given frequent and early notice to the
States of the general disposition of her people to-
ward a peace, of her own inability to continue the
war upon the old foot, under the disadvantage of
unequal quotas and the universal backwardness of
her allies. She had likewise informed them of
several advances made to her on the side of France,
which she had refused to hearken to till she had
consulted with those her good friends and confede-
rates, and heard their opinion on that subject.
the Dutch, who apprehended nothing more than to
see Britain at the head of a treaty, were backward
and sullen, disliked all proposals by the queen's in-
tervention, and said "It was a piece of artifice in
France to divide the allies." Besides, they knew
the ministry was young, and the opposite faction
But
454
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
had given them assurances "That the people of
England would never endure a peace without Spain,
nor the men in power dare to attempt it after the
resolutions of one house of parliament to the con-
trary." But in the midst of this unwillingness to
receive any overtures from France by the queen's
hands, the Dutch ministers were actually engaged
in a correspondence with that court, where they
urged our inability to begin a treaty by reason of
those factions which themselves had inflamed; and
were ready to commence a negotiation upon much
easier terms than what they supposed we demanded.
For not to mention the duke of Lorraine's interposi-
tion in behalf of Holland, which France absolutely
refused to accept, the letters sent from the Dutch to
that court were shown some months after to a Bri-
tish minister there, which gave much weight to
Monsieur de Torcy's insinuations, "That he knew
where to meet with more compliance if the neces-
sity of affairs should force him to it by our refusal."
And the violence of the States against our entertain-
ing that correspondence was only because they knew
theirs would never be accepted; at least till ours
were thrown off.
The queen sensible of all this resolved to provide
for her own kingdoms; and having therefore pre-
pared such demands for her principal allies as might
be a ground for proceeding to a general treaty, with-
out pretending to adjust their several interests, she
resolved to stipulate in a particular manner the ad-
vantage of Britain. The following preliminary de-
mands were accordingly drawn up, in order to be
transmitted to France:
"Great Britain will not enter into any negotia-
tion of peace otherwise than upon these conditions
obtained beforehand :
"That the union of the two crowns of France
and Spain shall be prevented: That satisfaction
shall be given to all the allies, and trade settled and
maintained.
"If France be disposed to treat upon this view it
is not to be doubted that the following propositions
will be found reasonable:
"A barrier shall be formed in the Low Countries
for the States General, and their trade shall be se-
cured.
“A barrier likewise shall be formed for the empire.
"The pretensions of all the allies founded upon
former treaties shall be regulated and determined to
their general satisfaction.
"In order to make a more equal balance of power
in Italy the dominions and territories which, in the
beginning of the present war, belonged to the duke
of Savoy, and are now in the possession of France,
shall be restored to his royal highness; and such
other places in Italy shall be yielded to him as will
be found necessary and agreeable to the sense of
former treaties made with this prince.
"As to Great Britain, in particular, the succession
to the crown of the kingdoms, according to the pre-
sent establishment, shall be acknowledged.
"A new treaty of commerce between Great Bri-
tain and France shall be made after the most just
and reasonable manner.
"Dunkirk shall be demolished.
"Gibraltar and Port-Mahon shall remain in the
hands of the present possessors.
"The English shall have the assiento in the same
manner the French now enjoy it; and such places
in the Spanish West Indies shall be assigned to
those concerned in this traffic, for the refreshment
and sale of their negroes, as shall be found necessary
and convenient.
"All advantages, rights, and privileges already
granted, and which may hereafter be granted, by
Spain to the subjects of France or to any other na-
tion whatsoever, shall be equally granted to the sub-
jects of Great Britain.
"And for better securing the British trade in the
Spanish West Indies, certain places, to be named in
the treaty of peace, shall be put into possession of
the English.
"Newfoundland, with the bay and straits of Hud-
son, shall be entirely restored to the English; and
Great Britain and France shall severally keep and
possess all those countries and territories in North
America which each of the said nations shall be in
possession of at the time when the ratification of
this treaty shall be published in those parts of the
world.
"These demands, and all other proceedings be-
tween Great Britain and France, shall be kept in-
violably secret until they are published by the mu-
tual consent of both parties."
The last article was not only intended for avoid-
pre-
ing, if possible, the jealousy of the Dutch, but to
vent the clamours of the abettors here at home, who,
under the pretended fears of our doing injustice to
the Dutch by acting without the privity of that re-
public, in order to make a separate peace, would be
ready to drive on the worst designs against the queen
and ministry in order to recover the power they had
lost.
In June, 1711, Mr. Prior, a person of great dis-
tinction, not only on account of his wit but for his
abilities in the management of affairs, and who had
been formerly employed at the French court, was
despatched thither by her majesty with the foregoing
demands.
This gentleman was received at Ver-
sailles with great civility. The king declared, "That
no proceeding in order to a general treaty would be
so agreeable to him as by the intervention of Eng-
land; and that his majesty, being desirous to con-
tribute with all his power towards the repose of
Europe, did answer to the demands which had been
made:
"That he would consent freely and sincerely to
all just and reasonable methods for hindering the
crowns of France and Spain from being ever united
under the same prince; his majesty being persuaded
that such an excess of power would be as contrary
to the general good and repose of Europe as it was
opposite to the will of the late catholic king Charles
II." He said, "His intention was that all parties
in the present war should find their reasonable satis-
faction in the intended treaty of peace; and that
trade should be settled and maintained for the future
to the advantage of those nations which formerly
possessed it.
"That, as the king will exactly observe the con-
ditions of peace, whenever it shall be concluded,
and as the object he proposes to himself is to secure
the frontiers of his own kingdom, without giving
any sort of disturbance to his neighbours, he pro-
mises to agree that by the future treaty of peace the
Dutch shall be put into possession of all such forti-
fied places as shall be specified in the said treaty, to
serve for a barrier to that republic against all attempts
on the side of France. He engages likewise to give
all necessary securities for removing the jealousies
raised among the German princes of his majesty's
designs.
"That when the conferences in order to a general
treaty shall be formed all the pretensions of the seve-
ral princes and states engaged in the present war
shall be fairly and amicably discussed; nor shall
anything be omitted which may regulate and deter-
mine them to the satisfaction of all parties
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
455
which did not depend upon her, but concerned only
the interest of the allies reciprocally with those of
the most christian king; whereas the negotiation
had begun upon this principle, that France should
consent to adjust the interests of Great Britain in
the first place, whereby her majesty would be after-
wards enabled, by her good offices on all sides, to
facilitate the general peace. The queen resolved
never to depart from this principle, but was abso-
"That, pursuant to the demands made by Eng-
land, his majesty promises to restore to the duke of
Savoy those demesnes and territories which belonged
to that prince at the beginning of this war, and
which his majesty is now in possession of; and the
king consents, further, that such other places in
Italy shall be yielded to the duke of Savoy as shall
be found necessary according to the sense of those
treaties made between the said duke and his allies.
"That the king's sentiments of the present govern-lutely determined to remit the particular interests of
ment of Great Britain, the open declaration he made
in Holland of his resolution to treat of peace by ap-
plications to the English, the assurances he had given
of engaging the king of Spain to leave Gibraltar in
their hands (all which are convincing proofs of his
perfect esteem for a nation still in war with him),
leave no room to doubt of his majesty's inclination
to give England all securities and advantages for
their trade which they can reasonably demand. But
as his majesty cannot persuade himself that a govern-
ment so clear-sighted as ours will insist upon con-
ditions which must absolutely destroy the trade of
France and Spain as well as that of all other nations
of Europe, he thinks the demands made by Great
Britain may require a more particular discussion.
"That upon this foundation the king thought the
best way of advancing and perfecting a negotiation,
the beginning of which he had seen with so much
satisfaction, would be to send into England a person
instructed in his intention and authorised by him to
agree upon securities for settling the trade of the
subjects of England, and those particular advantages
to be stipulated in their favour, without destroying
the trade of the French and Spaniards or of other
nations in Christendom.
"That therefore his majesty had charged the per-
son chosen for this commission to answer the other
articles of the memorial given him by Mr. Prior, the
secret of which should be exactly observed."
Mons. de Torcy had for some years past used
all his endeavours to incline his master toward a
peace, pursuant to the maxim of his uncle Colbert,
"That a long war was not for the interest of France."
It was for this reason the king made choice of him
in the conferences at the Hague, the bad success
whereof, although it filled him with resentments
against the Dutch, did not alter his opinion; but he
was violently opposed by a party both in the court
and kingdom who pretended to fear he would sacri-
fice the glory of the prince and country by too large
concessions; or perhaps would rather wish that the
first offers should have been still made to the Dutch,
as a people more likely to be less solicitous about
the interest of Britain than her majesty would cer-
tainly be for theirs; and the particular design of
Mr. Prior was to find out whether that minister had
credit enough with his prince, and a support from
others in power, sufficient to overrule the faction
against peace.
Mr. Prior's journey could not be kept a secret, as
the court here at first seemed to intend it.
He was
discovered, at his return, by an officer of the port at
Dover, where he landed after six weeks' absence;
upon which the Dutch Gazettes and English news-
papers were full of speculations.
At the same time with Mr. Prior there arrived
from France Mons. Mesnager, knight of the order of
St. Michael, and one of the council of trade to the
most christian king. His commission was in ge-
neral, empowering him to treat with the minister
of any prince engaged in the war against his master.
In his first conferences with the queen's ministers
he pretended orders to insist that her majesty should
enter upon particular engagements in several articles,
the allies to general conferences, where she would
do the utmost in her power to procure the repose of
Europe and the satisfaction of all parties.
It was
plain France could run no hazard by this proceed-
ing, because the preliminary articles would have no
force before a general peace was signed; therefore
it was not doubted but Mons. Mesnager would have
orders to waive this new pretension, and go on in
treating upon that foot which was at first proposed.
In short, the ministers required a positive and speedy
answer to the articles in question, since they con-
tained only such advantages and securities as her
majesty thought she had a right to require from any
prince whatsoever to whom the dominions of Spain
should happen to fall.
The particular demands of Britain were formed
into eight articles, which Mons. Mesnager having
transmitted to his court and received new powers
from thence, had orders to give his master's consent
by way of answers to the several points, to be obli-
gatory only after a general peace. These demands,
together with the answers of the French king,
were drawn up and signed by Mons. Mesnager
and her majesty's two principal secretaries of state;
whereof I shall here present an extract to the
reader.
In the preamble the most christian king sets forth,
"That being particularly informed, by the last me-
morial which the British ministers delivered to
Mons. Mesnager, of the dispositions of this crown
to facilitate a general peace to the satisfaction of the
several parties concerned; and his majesty finding
in effect as the said memorial declares, that he runs
no hazard by engaging himself in the manner there
expressed, since the preliminary articles will be of
no force until the signing of the general peace ; and
being sincerely desirous to advance to the utmost of
his power the repose of Europe, especially by a way
so agreeable as the interposition of a princess whom
so many ties of blood ought to unite to him, and
whose sentiments for the public tranquillity cannot
be doubted; his majesty, moved by these consider-
ations, has ordered Monsieur Mesnager, knight, &c.,
to give the following answers, in writing, to the
articles contained in the memorial transmitted to
him, entitled Preliminary Demands for Great Britain
in particular."
The articles were these that follow :-
"First, The succession to the crown to be ac-
knowledged, according to the present establishment.
"Secondly, A new treaty of commerce between
Great Britain and France to be made, after the most
just and reasonable manner.
"Thirdly, Dunkirk to be demolished.
Fourthly, Gibraltar and Port-Mahon to continue
in the hands of those who now possess them.
"Fifthly, The assiento (or liberty of selling ne-
groes to the Spanish West Indies) to be granted to
the English in as full manner as the French possess
it at present; and such places in the said West
Indies to be assigned to the persons concerned in
this trade, for the refreshment and sale of their ne-
groes, as shall be found necessary and convenient.
Sixthly, Whatever advantages, privileges, and
456
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
by
rights are already or may hereafter be granted by
Spain to the subjects of France or any other nation,
shall be equally granted to the subjects of Great
Britain.
may
may be re-established and maintained for the future,
to the advantage of Great Britain, of Holland, and
of the other nations who have been accustomed to
exercise commerce.
"4. As the king will likewise maintain exactly
the observance of the peace when it shall be con-
"Seventhly, For better protecting their trade in
the Spanish West Indies, the English shall be put
into possession of such places as shall be named included, and the object the king proposes to himself
the treaty of peace; or as an equivalent for this
article, that the assiento be granted Britain for the
term of thirty years.
"That the isle of St. Christopher's be likewise
secured to the English.
"That the advantages and exemption from duties
promised by Mons. Mesnager, which he affirms will
amount to fifteen per cent. upon all goods of the
growth and manufacture of Great Britain, be effec-
tually allowed.
"That whereas, on the side of the river Plate, the
English are not in possession of any colony, a cer-
tain extent of territory be allowed them on the said
river for refreshing and keeping their negroes till
they are sold to the Spaniards; subject nevertheless
to the inspection of an officer appointed by Spain.
Eighthly, Newfoundland, and the Bay and Straits
of Hudson, shall be entirely restored to the English;
and Great Britain and France shall respectively
keep whatever dominions in North America each of
them shall be in possession of when the ratification
of this treaty shall be published in those parts of the
world."
The six first articles were allowed without any
difficulty, except that about Dunkirk, where France
was to have an equivalent, to be settled in a general
treaty.
A difficulty arising upon the seventh article, the
proposed equivalent was allowed instead thereof.
The last article was referred to the general treaty
of peace; only the French insisted to have the power
of fishing for cod and drying them on the island of
Newfoundland.
These articles were to be looked upon as con-
ditions which the most christian king consented to
allow; and whenever a general peace should be
signed, they were to be digested into the usual form
of a treaty, to the satisfaction of both crowns.
The queen having thus provided for the security
and advantage of her kingdoms whenever a peace
should be made, and upon terms no way interfering
with the interest of her allies, the next thing in order
was, to procure from France such preliminary ar-
ticles as might be a ground upon which to commence
a general treaty. These were adjusted and signed
the same day with the former; and having been de-
livered to the several ministers residing here from
the powers in alliance with England, were quickly
made public. But the various constructions and
censures which passed upon them have made it ne-
cessary to give the reader the following transcript:
"The king being willing to contribute all that is
in his power to the re-establishing of the general
peace, his majesty declares,—
"1. That he will acknowledge the queen of Great
Britain in that quality, as also the succession of that
crown according to the settlement.
2. That he will freely and bond fide consent to
the taking all just and reasonable measures for hin-
dering, that the crowns of France and Spain may
ever be united on the head of the same prince; his
majesty being persuaded that this excess of power
would be contrary to the good and quiet of Europe.
"3. The king's intention is that all the parties
engaged in the present war, without excepting any
of them, may find their reasonable satisfaction in the
treaty of peace which shall be made; that commerce
being to secure the frontiers of his kingdom without
disturbing in any manner whatever the neighbour-
ing states; he promises to agree, by the treaty which
shall be made, that the Dutch shall be put in pos-
session of the fortified places which shall be men-
tioned in the Netherlands to serve hereafter for a
barrier, which may secure the quiet of the republic
of Holland against any enterprise from the part of
France.
"5. The king consents likewise that a secure and
convenient barrier should be formed for the empire
and for the house of Austria.
;
"6. Notwithstanding Dunkirk cost the king very
great sums, as well to purchase it as to fortify it
and that it is further necessary to be at very con-
siderable expense for razing the works; his majesty
is willing, however, to engage to cause them to be
demolished immediately after the conclusion of the
peace, on condition that, for the fortifications of that
place, a proper equivalent that may content him
be given him; and as England cannot furnish that
equivalent, the discussion of it shall be referred to
the conferences to be held for the negotiation of the
peace.
7. When the conferences for the negotiation of
the peace shall be formed, all the pretensions of the
princes and states engaged in the present war shall
be therein discussed bond fide and amicably; and
nothing shall be omitted to regulate and terminate
them to the satisfaction of all the parties.
"Mesnager.”
These overtures are founded upon the 8th article
of the grand alliance made in 1701, wherein are
contained the conditions without which a peace is
not to be made; and whoever compares both will
find the preliminaries to reach every point proposed
in that article, which those who censured them at
home, if they spoke their thoughts, did not under-
stand; for nothing can be plainer than what the
public has often been told, "that the recovery of
Spain from the house of Bourbon was a thing never
imagined when the war began, but a just and rea-
Much less
sonable satisfaction to the emperor."
at
ought such a condition to be held necessary pre-
sent, not only because it is allowed on all hands to
be impracticable, but likewise because by the
changes in the Austrian and Bourbon families it
would not be safe; neither did those who were
loudest in blaming the French preliminaries know
anything of the advantages privately stipulated for
Britain, whose interests, they assured us, were all
made a sacrifice to the corruption or folly of the
managers; and therefore because the opposers of
peace have been better informed by what they have
since heard and seen, they have changed their bat-
tery, and accused the ministers for betraying the
Dutch.
The lord Raby, her majesty's ambassador at the
Hague, having made a short journey to England,
where he was created earl of Strafford, went back to
Holland about the beginning of October, 1711, with
the above preliminaries, in order to communicate
them to the pensionary and other ministers of the
States. The earl was instructed to let them know
"That the queen had, according to their desire, re-
turned an answer to the first propositions signed by
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
457
Mons. Torcy, signifying that the French offers were
thought, both by her majesty and the States, neither
so particular nor so full as they ought to be, and
insisting to have a distinct project formed of such a
peace as the most Christian king would be willing
to conclude: That this affair having been for some
time transacted by papers, and thereby subject to
delays, Mons. Mesnager was at length sent over by
France, and had signed those preliminaries now com-
municated to them: That the several articles did not
indeed contain such particular concessions as France
must and will make in the course of a treaty; but
that, however, her majesty thought them a sufficient
foundation whereon to open the general conferences.
"That her majesty was unwilling to be charged
with determining the several interests of her allies,
and therefore contented herself with such general
offers as might include all the particular demands
proper to be made during the treaty, where the con-
federates must resolve to adhere firmly together, in
order to obtain from the enemy the utmost that could
be hoped for in the present circumstances of affairs;
which rule her majesty assured the States she would
on her part firmly observe."
If the ministers of Holland should express any
uneasiness that her majesty may have settled the in-
terest of her own kingdoms in a future peace by
any private agreement, the ambassador was ordered
to say
"That the queen had hitherto refused to have
the treaty carried on in her own kingdom, and would
continue to do so unless they (the Dutch) con-
strained her to take another measure that by these
means the States and the rest of the allies would
have the opportunity of treating and adjusting their
different pretensions, which her majesty would pro-
mote with all the zeal she had shown for the com-
mon good and the particular advantage of that re-
public (as they must do her the justice to confess),
in the whole course of her reign: that the queen had
made no stipulation for herself which might clash
with the interests of Holland: and that the articles
to be inserted in a future treaty for the benefit of
Britain, were for the most part such as contained
advantages which must either be continued to the
enemy or be obtained by her majesty; but, however,
that no concession should tempt her to hearken to a
peace unless her good friends and allies, the States
General, had all reasonable satisfaction as to their
trade and barrier as well as in all other respects."
After these assurances given in the queen's name,
the earl was to insinuate "That her majesty should
have just reason to be offended, and to think the
proceedings between her and the States very unequal
if they should pretend to have any further uneasiness
upon this head: that being determined to accept no
advantages to herself repugnant to their interests,
nor any peace without their reasonable satisfaction,
the figure she had made during the whole course of
the war, and the part she had acted superior to any
of the allies, who were more concerned in danger
and interest, might justly entitle her to settle the
concerns of Great Britain before she would consent
to a general negotiation."
If the States should object the engagements the
queen was under by treaties of making no peace but
in concert with them, or the particular obligations
of the barrier treaty, the ambassador was to answer,
"That as to the former, her majesty had not in any
sort acted contrary thereto : that she was so far from
making a peace without their consent as to declare
her firm resolution not to make it without their
satisfaction; and that what had passed between
France and her amounted to no more than an in-
troduction to a general treaty." As to the latter,
|
the earl had orders to represent very earnestly "how
much it was even for the interest of Holland itself,
rather to compound the advantage of the barrier
treaty than to insist upon the whole, which the
house of Austria and several other allies would
never consent to: that nothing could be more odious
to the people of England than many parts of this
treaty, which would have raised universal indigna-
tion if the utmost care had not been taken to quiet
the minds of those who were acquainted with the
terms of that guaranty, and to conceal them from
those who were not that it was absolutely necessary
to maintain a good harmony between both nations,
without which it would be impossible at any time
to form a strength for reducing an exorbitant power
or preserving the balance of Europe; whence it fol-
lowed, that it could not be the true interest of either
country to insist upon any conditions which might
give just apprehension to the other.
"That France had proposed Utrecht, Nimeguen,
Aix, or Liege, wherein to hold the general treaty;
and her majesty was ready to send her plenipoten-
tiaries to whichever of those towns the States should
approve."
If the imperial ministers, or those of the other allies,
should object against the preliminaries as no suffi-
cient ground for opening the conferences, and insist
that France should consent to such articles as were
signed on the part of the allies in the year 1709, the
earl of Strafford was in answer directed to insinuate
"That the French might have probably been brought
to explain themselves more particularly had they
not perceived the uneasiness, impatience and jea-
lousy among the allies during our transactions with
that court." However, he should declare to them
in the queen's name, "That if they were determined
to accept of peace upon no terms inferior to what
was formerly demanded, her majesty was ready to
concur with them; but would no longer bear those
disproportions of expense yearly increased upon her,
nor the deficiency of the confederates in every part
of the war: that it was therefore incumbent upon
them to furnish for the future such quotas of ships
and forces as they were now wanting in, and to in-
crease their expense, while her majesty reduced hers
to a reasonable and just proportion."
That if the ministers of Vienna and Holland
should urge their inability upon this head, the queen
insisted "They ought to comply with her in war
or in peace; her majesty desiring nothing as to the
first, but what they ought to perform, and what is
absolutely necessary: and as to the latter, that she
had done and would continue to do the utmost in
her power towards obtaining such a peace as might
be to the satisfaction of all her allies."
Some days after the earl of Strafford's departure
to Holland, Mons. Buys, pensionary of Amsterdam,
arrived here from thence with instructions from his
masters to treat upon the subject of the French ple-
liminaries and the methods for carrying on the war.
In his first conference with a committee of council
he objected against all the articles, as too general
and uncertain; and against some of them, as pre-
judicial. He said, "The French promising that trade
should be re-established and maintained for the future
was meant in order to deprive the Dutch of their
tariff of 1604, for the plenipotentiaries of that crown
would certainly expound the word rétablir to signify
no more than restoring the trade of the States to the
condition it was in immediately before the com-
mencement of the present war." He said, "That
in the article of Dunkirk the destruction of the har-
bour was not mentioned, and that the fortifications
were only to be razed upon condition of an equi-
458
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
valent, which might occasion a difference between | posed to conclude a peace upon such conditions
her majesty and the States, since Holland would
think it hard to have a town less in their barrier for
the demolition of Dunkirk; and England would
complain to have this thorn continued in their side
for the sake of giving one town more to the Dutch.'
Lastly, he objected "That where the French pro-
mised effectual methods should be taken to prevent
the union of France and Spain under the same king,
they offered nothing at all for the cession of Spain,
which was the most important point of the war.
"For these reasons, Monsieur Buys hoped her
majesty would alter her measures, and demand spo-
cific articles upon which the allies might debate
whether they would consent to a negotiation or
not."
The queen, who looked upon all these difficulties
raised about the method of treating as endeavours to
wrest the negotiation out of her hands, commanded
the lords of the committee to let Monsieur Buys
know"That the experience she formerly had of
proceeding by particular preliminaries toward a
general treaty gave her no encouragement to repeat
the same method any more: that such a preliminary
treaty must be negotiated either by some particular
allies, or by all: the first her majesty could never
suffer, since she would neither take upon her to
settle the interest of others, nor submit that others
should settle those of her own kingdoms: as to the
second, it was liable to Monsieur Buys's objection,
because the ministers of France would have as fair
an opportunity of sowing division among the allies
when they were all assembled upon a preliminary
treaty as when the conferences were open for a ne-
gotiation of peace: that this method could therefore
have no other effect than to delay the treaty, without
any advantage: that her majesty was heartily dis-
posed, both then and during the negotiation, to
insist on every thing necessary for securing the
barrier and commerce of the States, and therefore
hoped the conferences might be opened without
further difficulties.
"That her majesty did not only consent, but de-
sired to have a plan settled for carrying on the war
as soon as the negotiation of peace should begin; but
expected to have the burden more equally laid, and
more agreeably to treaties; and would join with
the States in pressing the allies to perform their
parts, as she had endeavoured to animate them by
her example."
Mons. Buys seemed to know little of his masters'
mind, and pretended he had no power to conclude
upon anything. Her majesty's minister proposed to
him an alliance between the two nations to subsist
after a peace. To this he hearkened very readily,
and offered to take the matter ad referendum, having
authority to do no more. His intention was, that
he might appear to negotiate, in order to gain time
to pick out if possible the whole secret of the trans-
actions between Britain and France; to disclose
nothing himself, nor bind his masters to any con-
ditions; to seek delays till the parliament met, and
then observe what turn it took, and what would
be the issue of those frequent cabals between him-
self and some other foreign ministers, in conjunction
with the chief leaders of the discontented faction.
The Dutch hoped that the clamours raised against
the proceedings of the queen's ministers toward a
peace would make the parliament disapprove what
had been done; whereby the States would be at the
head of the negotiation, which the queen did not
think fit to have any more in their hands, where it
had miscarried twice already, although prince Eu-
gene himself owned "That France was thon dis-
that it was not worth the life of a grenadier to refuse
them." As to insisting upon specific preliminaries,
her majesty thought her own method much better,
"for each ally in the course of the negotiation to
advance and manage his own pretensions, wherein
she would support and assist them ;" rather than for
two ministers of one ally to treat solely with the
enemy and report what they pleased to the rest, as
was practised by the Dutch at Gertruydenberg.
One part of Mons. Buys's instructions was, "To
desire the queen not to be so far amused by a treaty
of peace as to neglect her preparation for war against
the next campaign. Her majesty, who was firmly
resolved against submitting any longer to that un-
equal burden of expense she had hitherto lain under,
commanded Mr. secretary St. John to debate the
matter with that minister, who said "He had no
power to treat; only insisted that his masters had
fully done their part, and that nothing but exhor-
tations could be used to prevail on the other allies
to act with greater vigour."
On the other side, the queen refused to concert
any plan for the prosecution of the war till the States
would join with her in agreeing to open the con-
ferences of peace, which therefore by Mons. Buys's
application to them was accordingly done, by a re-
solution taken in Holland upon the 21st of Novem-
ber, 1711, N. S.
About this time the count de Gallas was forbid
the court by order from the queen, who sent him word
"that she looked upon him no longer as a public
minister."
This gentleman thought fit to act a very dis-
honourable part here in England, altogether incon-
sistent with the character he bore of envoy from the
late and present emperors, two princes under the
strictest ties of gratitude to the queen, especially the
latter, who had then the title of king of Spain.
Count Gallas, about the end of August, 1711, with
the utmost privacy dispatched an Italian, one of his
clerks, to Frankfort, where the earl of Peterborough
was then expected. This man was instructed to
pass for a Spaniard, and insinuate himself into the
carl's service, which he accordingly did, and gave
constant information to the last emperor's secretary
at Frankfort of all he could gather up in his lord-
ship's family, as well as copies of several letters he
had transcribed. It was likewise discovered that
Gallas had in his dispatches to the present emperor,
then in Spain, represented the queen and her mi-
nisters as not to be confided in; "That when her
majesty had dismissed the earl of Sunderland she
promised to proceed no further in the change of her
servants; yet soon after turned them all out, and
thereby ruined the public credit, as well as aban-
doned Spain: that the present ministers wanted the
abilities and good dispositions of the former; were
persons of ill designs and enemies to the common
cause, and he (Gallas) could not trust them."
his letters to count Zinzendorf he said "That Mr.
secretary St. John complained of the house of Aus-
tria's backwardness only to make the king of Spain
odious to England, and the people here desirous of a
peace although it were ever so bad ;" to prevent which
count Gallas drew up a memorial which he intended
to give the queen, and transmitted a draught of it
to Zinzendorf for his advice and approbation.
nemorial, among other great promises to encourage
the continuance of the war, proposed the detaching
of a good body of troops from Hungary to serve in
Italy or Spain, as the queen should think fit.
In
This
Zinzendorf thought this too bold a step without
consulting the emperor: to which Gallas replied,
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
459
"That his design was only to engage the queen to
go on with the war: that Zinzendorf knew how ear-
nestly the English and Dutch had pressed to have
these troops from Hungary, and therefore they
ought to be promised, in order to quiet those two
nations; after which several ways might be found to
elude that promise; and, in the mean time, the great
point would be gained of bringing the English to
declare for continuing the war: that the emperor
might afterwards excuse himself by the apprehen-
sion of a war in Hungary or of that between the
Turks and Muscovites: that if these excuses should
be at an end, a detachment of one or two regiments
might be sent, and the rest deferred by pretending
want of money; by which the queen would proba-
bly be brought to maintain some part of those
troops, and perhaps the whole body." He added,
"That this way of management was very cominon
among the allies;" and gave for an example, the
forces which the Dutch had promised for the service
of Spain, but were never sent; with several other
instances of the same kind, which, he said, might be
produced.
Her majesty, who had long suspected that count
Gallas was engaged in these and the like practices,
having at last received authentic proofs of this whole
intrigue, from original letters and the voluntary con-
fession of those who were principally concerned in
carrying it on, thought it necessary to show her re-
sentment by refusing the count any more access to
her person or her court.
Although the queen, as it has been already ob-
served, was resolved to open the conferences upon
the general preliminaries, yet she thought it would
very much forward the peace to know what were
the utmost concessions which France would make
to the several allies, but especially to the States
General and the duke of Savoy. Therefore, while
her majesty was pressing the former to agree to a
general treaty, the abbé Gualtier was sent to France
with a memorial, to desire that the most christian
king would explain himself upon those preliminaries,
particularly with relation to Savoy and Holland,
whose satisfaction the queen had most at heart; as
well from her friendship to both these powers, as be-
cause, if she might engage to them that their just
pretensions would be allowed, few difficulties would
remain of any moment to retard the general peace.
The French answer to this memorial contained
several schemes and proposals for the satisfaction of
each ally, coming up very near to what her majesty
and her ministers thought reasonable. The greatest
difficulties seemed to be about the elector of Bavaria,
for whose interests France appeared to be as much
concerned as the queen was for those of the duke of
Savoy. However, those were judged not very hard
to be surmounted.
The States having at length agreed to a general
treaty, the following particulars were concerted bc-
tween her majesty and that republic:
"That the congress should be held at Utrecht.
"That the opening of the congress should be upon
the 12th of January, N.S., 1711-12.
"That, for avoiding all inconveniences of cere-
mony, the ministers of the queen and States during
the treaty should only have the characters of pleni-
potentiaries, and not take that of ambassadors till
the day on which the peace should be signed.
"Lastly, The queen and States insisted that the
ministers of the duke of Anjou and the late clectors
of Bavaria and Cologne, should not appear at the
congress, until the points relating to their masters
were adjusted; and were firmly resolved not to send
their passports for the ministers of France till the
most christian king declared that the absence of the
forementioned ministers should not delay the pro-
gress of the negotiation."
Pursuant to the three former articles her majesty
wrote circular letters to all the allies engaged with
her in the present war; and France had notice,
"That as soon as the king declared his compliance
with the last article the blank passports should be
filled up with the names of the mareschal d'Uxelles,
the abbé de Polignac, and Monsieur Mesnager, who
were appointed plenipotentiaries for that crown.”
From what I have hitherto deduced the reader
sees the plan which the queen thought the most
effectual for advancing a peace. As the conferences
were to begin upon the general preliminaries the
queen was to be empowered by France to offer se-
parately to the allies what might be reasonable for
cach to accept, and her own interests being previ-
ously settled she was to act as a general mediator; a
figure that became her best, from the part she had in
the war, and more useful to the great end at which
she aimed, of giving a safe and honourable peace to
Europe.
Besides, it was absolutely necessary for the inte-
rests of Britain that the queen should be at the head
of the negotiation: without which her majesty could
find no expedient to redress the injuries her king-
doms were sure to suffer by the barrier-treaty. In
order to settle this point with the States the minis-
ters here had a conference with Monsieur Buys, a
few days before the parliament met. He was told,
"How necessary it was, by previous concert be-
tween the emperor, the queen, and the States, to
prevent any difference which might arise in the
course of the treaty at Utrecht; that under pretence
of a barrier for the States General, as their security
against France, infinite prejudice might arise to the
trade of Britain in the Spanish Netherlands; for,
by the fifteenth article of the barrier-treaty, in con-
sequence of what was stipulated by that of Munster,
the queen was brought to engage that commerce
shall not be rendered more easy, in point of duties,
by the sea-ports of Flanders than it is by the river
Scheld and by the canals on the side of the Seven
Provinces; which, as things now stood, was very
unjust, for while the towns in Flanders were in the
hands of France or Spain the Dutch and we traded
to them upon equal foot; but now, since by the
barrier-treaty those towns were to be possessed by
the States, that republic might lay what duties they
pleased upon British goods, after passing by Ostend,
and make their own custom-free, which would utterly
ruin our whole trade with Flanders."
Upon this the lords told Monsieur Buys very
frankly, "That if the States expected the queen
should support their barrier, as their demands from
France and the house of Austria upon that head,
they ought to agree that the subjects of Britain should
trade as freely to all the countries and places which,
by virtue of any former or future treaty, were to be-
come the barrier of the States, as they did in the
time of the late king Charles II. of Spain, or as the
subjects of the States General themselves shall do;
and it is hoped their high mightinesses would never
scruple to rectify a mistake so injurious to that na-
tion, without whose blood and treasure they would
have had no barrier at all." Monsieur Buys had
nothing to answer against these objections, but said
"He had already wrote to his masters for further
instructions."
Greater difficulties occurred about settling what
should be the barrier to the States after a peace:
the envoy insisting to have all the towns that were
named in the treaty of barrier and succession; and
460
IIISTORY OF THE FOUR
the queen's ministers excepting those towns which,
if they continued in the hands of the Dutch, would
render the trade of Britain to Flanders precarious.
At length it was agreed in general, that the States
ought to have what is really essential to the security
of their barrier against France, and that some
amicable expedient should be found for removing
the fears both of Britain and Holland upon this
point.
But at the same time Mons. Buys was told,
"That although the queen would certainly insist to
obtain all those points from France in behalf of her
allies the States, yet she hoped his masters were too
reasonable to break off the treaty rather than not
obtain the very utmost of their demands, which
could not be settled here unless he were fully in-
structed to speak and conclude upon that subject:
That her majesty thought the best way of securing
the common interest and preventing the division of
the allies, by the artifices of France in the course of
a long negotiation, would be to concert between the
queen's ministers and those of the States, with a due
regard to the other confederates, such a plan as
might amount to a safe and honourable peace. After
which the abbé Polignac, who of the French pleni-
potentiaries was most in the secret of his court,
might be told that it was in vain to amuse each other
any longer; that on such terms the peace would be
immediately concluded; and that the conferences
must cease if those conditions were not without
delay and with expedition, granted."
Ilis
|
|
|
her kingdoms, and the common cause, in the course
of the war. It had been stipulated by the grand
alliance between the emperor, Britain, and the
States, That those three states should assist cach
other with their whole force; and that the several
proportions should be specified in a particular con-
vention." But if any such convention were made, it
was never ratified; only the parties agreed by com-
mon consent to take each a certain share of the bur-
den upon themselves, which the late king William
communicated to the house of commons by his secre-
tary of state; and which afterwards the other two
powers, observing the mighty zeal in our ministry
for prolonging the war, eluded as they pleased.
The commissioners for stating the public accounts
of the kingdom had, in executing their office the
preceding summer, discovered several practices re-
lating to the affairs of the army; which they drew
up in a report, and delivered to the house.
The commons began their examination of the re-
port with a member of their own, Mr. Robert
Walpole, already mentioned; who, during his
being secretary at war, had received 500 guineas,
and taken a note for 5007. more, on account of two
contracts for forage of the queen's troops quartered
in Scotland. He endeavoured to excuse the first
contract; but had nothing to say about the second.
The first appeared so plain and so scandalous to the
commons, that they voted the author of it guilty of
a high breach of trust and notorious corruption,
committed him prisoner to the Tower, where he
continued to the end of the session, and expelled
him the house. He was a person much caressed by
the opposers of the queen and ministry; having
been first drawn into their party by his indifference
to any principles, and afterwards kept steady by the
loss of his place. His bold, forward countenance,
altogether a stranger to that infirmity which makes
men bashful, joined to a readiness of speaking in
public, has justly entitled him among those of his
A treaty between her majesty and the States to
subsist after a peace was now signed, Monsieur Buys
having received full powers to that purpose.
masters were desirous to have a private article added
sub sperati, concerning those terms of peace; with-
out the granting of which we should stipulate not to
agree with the enemy. But neither the character of
Buys, nor the manner in which he was empowered
to treat, would allow the queen to enter into such
an engagement. The congress likewise approach-faction to be a sort of leader in the second form.
ing, there was not time to settle a point of so great
importance. Neither, lastly, would her majesty be
tied down by Holland, without previous satisfaction
upon several articles in the barrier-treaty, so incon-
sistent with her engagements to other powers in the
alliance, and so injurious to her own kingdoms.
The lord privy seal and the carl of Strafford having,
about the time the parliament met, been appointed
her majesty's plenipotentiaries for treating on a ge-
neral peace, I shall here break off the account of
any further progress made in that great affair until
I resume it in the last Book of this History.
BOOK THE THIRD.
THE house of commons seemed resolved from the
beginning of the session to inquire strictly, not only
into all abuses relating to the accounts of the army,
but likewise into the several treaties between us
and our allies, upon what articles and conditions
they were first agreed to, and how these had been
since observed. In the first week of their sitting
they sent an address to the queen to desire that the
treaty, whereby her majesty was obliged to furnish
forty thousand men to act in conjunction with the
forces of her allies in the Low Countries, might be
laid before the house. To which the secretary of
state brought an answer, That search had boen
made, but no footsteps could be found of any treaty
or convention for that purpose." It was this unac-
countable neglect in the former ministry which first
gave a pretence to the allies for lessening their
quotas, so much to the disadvantage of her majesty,
66
|
The reader must excuse me for being so particular
about one who is otherwise altogether obscure.
Another part of the report concerned the duke of
Marlborough, who had received large sums of money
by way of gratuity from those who were the under-
takers for providing the army with bread. This the
duke excused in a letter to the commissioners, from
the like practice of other generals: but that excuse
appeared to be of little weight, and the mischievous
consequences of such a corruption were visible
enough; since the money given by these under-
takers were but bribes for connivance at their indi-
rect dealings with the army. And as frauds that
begin at the top are apt to spread through all the
subordinate ranks of those who have any share in
the management, and to increase as they circulate,
so in this case, for every 10007. given to the general,
the soldiers at least suffered fourfold.
The
Another article of this report relating to the duke
was yet of more importance. The greatest part of
her majesty's forces in Flanders were mercenary
troops, hired from several princes of Europe. It
was found that the queen's general subtracted 2½
per cent. out of the pay of those troops for his own
use, which amounted to a great annual sum.
duke of Marlborough in his letter already mentioned,
endeavouring to extenuate the matter, told the com-
missioners "That this deduction was a free gift
from the foreign troops, which he had negotiated
with them by the late king's orders, and hnd ob-
tained the queen's warrant for reserving and receiv-
ing it: that it was intended for secret service, the
10,0007. a-year given by parliament not proving suf-
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
461
ficient; and had all been laid out that way." The
commissioners observed, in answer, "That the war-
rant was kept dormant for nine years, as indeed no
entry of it appeared in the secretary of state's books,
and the deduction of it concealed all that time from
the knowledge of parliament: that if it had been a
free gift from the foreign troops, it would not have
been stipulated by agreement, as the duke's letter
confessed, and as his warrant declared; which latter
affirmed this stoppage to be intended for defraying
extraordinary contingent expenses of the troops, and
therefore should not have been applied to secret ser-
vices." They submitted to the house whether the
warrant itself was legal or duly countersigned.
The commissioners added, "That no receipt was
ever given for this deducted money; nor was it
mentioned in any receipts from the foreign troops,
which were always taken in full. And lastly, that the
whole sum on computation amounted to near 300,000.
The house, after a long debate, resolved, "That
the taking several sums from the contractors for
bread for the duke of Marlborough was unwarrant-
able and illegal; and that the 24 per cent. deducted
from the foreign troops was public money and ought
to be accounted for" which resolutions were laid
before the queen by the whole house, and her ma-
jesty promised to do her part in redressing what was
complained of. The duke and his friends had, about
the beginning of the war, by their credit with the
queen, procured a warrant from her majesty for this
perquisite of 2 per cent. The warrant was directed
to the duke of Marlborough, and countersigned by
sir Charles Hedges, then secretary of state; by vir-
tue of which, the paymaster-general of the army was
to pay the said deducted money to the general, and
take a receipt in full from the foreign troops.
It was observed as very commendable and becom-
ing the dignity of such an assembly, that this debate
was managed with great temper and with few per-
sonal reflections upon the duke of Marlborough.
They seemed only desirous to come at the truth,
without which they could not answer the trust re-
posed in them by those whom they represented ;
and left the rest to her majesty's prudence. The
attorney-general was ordered to commence an ac-
tion against the duke for the subtracted money;
which would have amounted to a great sum, enough
to ruin any private person, except himself. This
process is still depending, although very moderately
pursued, either by the queen's indulgence to one
whom she had formerly so much trusted, or perhaps
to be revived or slackened, according to the future
demeanour of the defendant.
Some time after, Mr. Cardonnell, a member of
parliament and secretary to the general in Flanders,
was expelled the house, for the offence of receiving
yearly bribes from those who had contracted to fur-
nish bread for the army; and met with no further
punishment for a practice voted to be unwarrantable
and corrupt.
These were all the censures of any moment which
the commons, under so great a weight of business,
thought fit to make upon the reports of their com-
missioners for inspecting the public accounts. But
having promised in the beginning of this history to
examine the state of the nation with respect to its
debts; by what negligence or corruption they first
began, and in process of time made such a pro-
digious increase; and lastly, what courses have been
taken under the present administration, to find out
funds for answering so many unprovided incum-
brances, as well as put a stop to new ones; I shall en-
deavour to satisfy the reader upon this important
article.
By all I have yet read of the history of our own
country, it appears to me that the national debts,
secured upon parliamentary funds of interest, were
things unknown in England before the last Revolu-
tion under the prince of Orange. It is true, that in
the grand rebellion the king's enemies borrowed
money of particular persons, upon what they called
the public faith; but this was only for short periods,
and the sums no more than what they could pay at
Some of our kings
once, as they constantly did.
have been very profuse in peace and war, and are
blamed in history for their oppressions of the people
by severe taxes, and for borrowing money which
they never paid; but national debts was a style,
which I doubt, would hardly then be understood.
When the prince of Orange was raised to the throne,
and a general war began in these parts of Europe,
the king and his counsellors thought it would be ill
policy to commence his reign with heavy taxes upon
the people, who had lived long in ease and plenty,
and might be apt to think their deliverance too
dearly bought; wherefore, one of the first actions of
the new government was to take off the tax upon
chimneys, as a burden very ungrateful to the com-
monalty.
monalty. But money being wanted to support the
war (which even the convention parliament, that
put the crown upon his head, were very unwilling he
should engage in), the present bishop of Salisbury
[Burnet] is said to have found out that expedient
(which he had learned in Holland) of raising money
upon the security of taxes that were only sufficient
to pay a large interest. The motives which pre-
vailed on people to fall in with this project were
many and plausible; for supposing, as the ministers
industriously gave out, that the war could not last
above one or two campaigns at most, it might be
carried on with very moderate taxes; and the debts
accruing would in process of time be easily cleared
after a peace. Then the bait of large interest would
draw in a great number of those whose money, by
the danger and difficulties of trade, lay dead
upon their hands; and whoever were lenders to
the government would, by surest principle, be
obliged to support it. Besides, the men of estates
could not be persuaded without time and difficulty,
to have those taxes laid on their lands which cus-
tom has since made so familiar; and it was the
business of such as were then in power to cultivate
a monied interest; because the gentry of the king-
dom did not very much relish those new notions in
government, to which the king, who had imbibed his
politics in his own country, was thought to give too
much way. Neither perhaps did that prince think
national incumbrances to be any evil at all; since
the flourishing republic where he was born is
thought to owe more than ever it will be able or will-
And I remember, when I mentioned to
ing to pay.
Mons. Buys the many millions we owed, he would
advance it as a maxim, "That it was for the interest
of the public to be in debt;" which perhaps may be
true in a commonwealth so crazily instituted, where
the governors cannot have too many pledges of their
subjects' fidelity, and where a great majority must
inevitably be undone by any revolution however
brought about. But to prescribe the same rules to
a monarch whose wealth arises from the rents and
improvements of lands, as well as trade and manu-
factures, is the mark of a confined and cramped un-
derstanding.
I was moved to speak thus, because I am very
well satisfied that the pernicious counsels of borrow-
ing money upon public funds of interest as well as
some other state lessons, were taken indigested from
the like practices among the Dutch, without allow-
462
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
[
ing in the least for any difference in government,
religion, law, custom, extent of country, or manners
and dispositions of the people.
But when this expedient of anticipations and
mortgages was first put in practice, artful men in
office and credit began to consider what uses it
might be applied to; and soon found it was likely to
prove the most fruitful seminary, not only to esta-
blish a faction they intended to set up for their own
support, but likewise to raise vast wealth for them-
selves in particular who were to be the managers
and directors in it. It was manifest that nothing
could promote these two designs so much as burden-
ing the nation with debts, and giving encouragement
to lenders: for as to the first, it was not to be
doubted that monied men would be always firm to
the party of those who advised the borrowing upon
such good security and with such exorbitant pre-
miums and interest; and every new sum that was
lent took away as much power from the landed men
as it added to theirs: so that the deeper the kingdom
was engaged, it was still the better for them. Thus a
new estate and property sprung up in the hands of
mortgagors, to whom every house and foot of land
in England paid a rent charge, free of all taxes and
defalcations, and purchased at less than half value.
So that the gentlemen of estates were, in effect, but
tenants to these new landlords; many of whom
were able in time to force the election of boroughs
out of the hands of those who had been the old pro-
prietors and inhabitants. This was arrived at such a
height, that a very few years more of war and funds
would have clearly cast the balance on the moneyed
side.
As to the second, this project of borrowing upon
funds was of mighty advantage to those who were in
the management of it, as well as to their friends and
dependants; for funds proving often deficient, the
government was obliged to strike tallies for making
up the rest; which tallies were sometimes (to speak
in the merchant's phrase) at above forty per cent.
discount. At this price, those who were in the
secret bought them up, and then took care to have
that deficiency supplied in the next session of parlia
ment; by which they doubled their principal in a few
months and for the encouragement of lenders, every
new project of lotteries or annuities proposed some
further advantage either as to interest or premium.
In the year 1697 a general mortgage was made of
certain revenues and taxes already settled, which
amounted to near a million a-year. This mortgage
was to continue till 1706, to be a fund for the pay-
ment of above 5,100,000. In the first parliament of
the queen the said mortgage was continued till 1710,
to supply a deficiency of 2,300,000%. and interest of
above a million; and in the intermediate years a great
part of that fund was branched out into annuities for
ninety-nine years: so that the late ministry raised
all their money, to 1710, only by continuing funds
which were already granted to their hands. This
deceived the people in general who were satisfied to
continue the payments they had been accustomed
to; and made the administration seem easy, since
the war went on without any new taxes raised, ex-
cept the very last year they were in power; not
considering what a mighty fund was exhausted, and
must be perpetuated, although extremely injurious
to trade and to the true interest of the nation.
This great fund of the general mortgage was not
only loaded year after year by mighty sums borrowed
upon it, but with the interest due upon those sums :
for which the treasury was forced to strike tallies
payable out of that fund, after all the money already
borrowed upon it, there being no other provision of
interest for three or four years; till at last the fund
was so overloaded that it could neither pay principal
nor interest, and tallies were struck for both, which
occasioned their great discount.
But to avoid mistakes upon a subject where I am
not very well versed either in the style or matter, I
will transcribe an account sent me by Sir John
Blunt, who is thoroughly instructed in these affairs:
"In the year 1707 the sum of 822,3817. 158. 6d.
was raised by continuing part of the general mort-
gage from 1710 to 1712; but with no provision of
interest till August 1, 1710, otherwise than by strik-
ing tallies for it on that fund, payable after all the
other money borrowed.
"In 1708 the same funds were continued from
1712 to 1714, to raise 729,0677. 15s. 6d. ; but no
provision for interest till August 1, 1712, otherwise
than as before, by striking tallies for it on the same
fund payable after all the rest of the money bor-
rowed. And the discount of tallies then beginning
to rise, great part of that money remained unraised;
and there is nothing to pay interest for the money
lent till August 1, 1712. But the late lord-treasurer
struck tallies for the full sum directed by the act to
be borrowed; great part of which have been de-
livered in payment to the navy and victualling
offices, and some are still in the hands of the gov-
ernment.
"In 1709 part of the same fund was continued
from August 1, 1714, to August 1, 1716, to raise
645,000%.; and no provision for interest till August
1, 1714 (which was about five years), but by bor-
rowing money on the same fund payable after the
sums before lent; so that little of that money was
lent. But the tallies were struck for what was un-
lent; some of which were given out for the payment
of the navy and victualling, and some still remain
in the hands of the government.
"In 1710 the sums which were before given from
1714 to 1716 were continued from thence to 1720,
to raise 1,296,5527. 9s. 113d.; and no immediate
provision for interest till August 1, 1716: only after
the duty of 1s. per bushel on salt should be cleared
from the money it was then charged with, and which
was not so cleared till Midsummer, 1'712, last; then
that fund was to be applied to pay the interest till
August 1, 1716; which interest amounted to about
77,7931. per annum: and the said salt fund pro-
duced but about 55,000l. per annum: so that no
money was borrowed upon the general mortgage in
1710, except 150,000l. lent by the Swiss Cantons;
but tallies were struck for the whole sum. These
all remained in the late treasurer's hands at the time
of his removal; yet the money was suspended,
which occasioned those great demands upon the
commissioners of the treasury who succeeded him,
and were forced to pawn those tallies to the bank,
or to remitters, rather than sell them at 20 or 25 per
cent. discount, as the price ther was. About 200,000%.
of them they paid to clothiers of the army and
others; and all the rest, being above 90,000%., have
been subscribed into the South Sea Company, for
the use of the public."
When the earl of Godolphin was removed from
his employment, he left a debt upon the navy of
several millions, all contracted under his adminis-
tration, which had no parliament security, and
was daily increased. Neither could I ever learn
whether that lord had the smallest prospect of clear-
ing this incumbrance, or whether there were policy,
negligence, or despair at the bottom of this unac-
countable management. But the consequences were
visible and ruinous; for by this means navy bills
grew to be forty per cent. discount and upwards;
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
463
and almost every kind of stores bought by the navy
and victualling offices cost the government double
rates and sometimes more; so that the public has
directly lost several millions upon this one article,
without any sort of necessity that I could ever hear
assigned by the ablest vindicators of that party.
In this oppressed and entangled state was the
kingdom with relation to its debts when the queen
removed the earl of Godolphin from his office and
put it into commission, of which the present trea-
surer was one. This person had been chosen
speaker successively to three parliaments, was after-
wards secretary of state, and always in great esteem
with the queen for his wisdom and fidelity. The
late ministry about two years before their fall had
prevailed with her majesty, much against her inclina-
tion, to dismiss him from her service; for which
they cannot be justly blamed, since he had endea-
voured the same thing against them, and very nar-
rowly failed; which makes it the more extraordinary,
that he should succeed in a second attempt against
those very adversaries who had such fair warning by
the first. He is firm and steady in his resolutions,
not easily diverted from them after he has once pos-
sessed himself of an opinion that they are right;
nor very communicative where he can act by him-
self, being taught by experience "That a secret is
seldom safe in more than one breast." That which
occurs to other men after mature deliberation offers
to him as his first thoughts; so that he decides im-
mediately what is best to be done, and therefore is
seldom at a loss upon sudden exigencies. He thinks
it a more easy and safe rule in politics to watch.
incidents as they come, and then turn them to the
advantage of what he pursues, than to pretend to
foresee them at a great distance. Fear, cruelty,
avarice, and pride, are wholly strangers to his na-
ture; but he is not without ambition. There is
one thing peculiar in his temper which I altogether
disapprove, and do not remember to have heard or
met with in any other man's character; I mean an
easiness and indifference under any imputation,
although he be ever so innocent, and although the
strongest probabilities and appearances are against
him ; so that I have known him often suspected by
his nearest friends for some months in points of the
highest importance, to a degree that they were
ready to break with him, and only undeceived by
time and accident. His detractors, who charge him
with cunning, are but ill acquainted with his cha-
racter; for in the sense they take the word and as
it is usually understood, I know no man to whom
that mean talent could be with less justice applied,
as the conduct of affairs while he has been at the
helm does clearly demonstrate, very contrary to the
nature and principles of cunning, which is always
employed in serving little turns, proposing little
ends, and supplying daily exigencies by little shifts
and expedients. But to rescue a prince out of the
hands of insolent subjects, bent upon such designs
as must probably end in the ruin of the government;
to find out means for paying such exorbitant debts
as this nation hath been involved in, and reduce it
to a better management; to make a potent enemy
offer advantageous terms of peace, and deliver up
the most important fortress of his kingdom as a se-
curity, and this against all the opposition mutually
raised and inflamed by parties and allies; such per-
formances can only be called cunning by those
whose want of understanding or of candour puts
them upon finding ill names for great qualities of
the mind, which themselves do neither possess nor can
form any just conception of. However, it must be
allowed that an obstinate love of secrecy in this
minister seems at distance to have some resemblance
of cunning; for he is not only very retentive of
secrets, but appears to be so too; which I number
among his defects.
He has been blamed by his
friends for refusing to discover his intentions, even
in those points where the wisest man may have need
of advice and assistance; and some have censured
him upon that account as if he were jealous of
power but he has been heard to answer "That he
seldom did otherwise without cause to repent."
However, so undistinguished a caution cannot in
my opinion be justified, by which the owner loses
many advantages, and whereof all men who deserve
to be confided in may with some reason complain.
His love of procrastination (wherein doubtless na-
ture has her share) may probably be increased by
the same means; but this is an imputation laid-
upen many other great ministers, who like men
under too heavy a load, let fall that which is of the
least consequence and go back to fetch it when their
shoulders are free; for time is often gained as well
as lost by delay, which at worst is a fault on the
securer side. Neither probably is this minister
answerable for half the clamour raised against him
upon that article: his endeavours are wholly turned
upon the general welfare of his country, but perhaps
with too little regard to that of particular persons;
which renders him less amiable than he would
otherwise have been, from the goodness of his hu-
mour and agreeable conversation in a private capa-
city, and with few dependers. Yet some allowance
may perhaps be given to this failing, which is one of
the greatest he has, since he cannot be more careless
He
of other men's fortunes than he is of his own.
is master of a very great and faithful memory, which
is of mighty use in the management of public af-
fairs;
and I believe there are few examples to be pro-
duced in any age of a person who has passed through
so many employments in the state, endowed with a
greater share both of divine and human learning.
I am persuaded that foreigners as well as those
at home who live too remote from the scene of busi-
ness to be rightly informed, will not be displeased
with this account of a person who in the space of
two years has been so highly instrumental in chang-
ing the face of affairs in Europe, and has deserved
so well of his own prince and country.
In that perplexed condition of the public debts
which I have already described, this minister was
brought into the treasury and exchequer and had
the chief direction of affairs. His first regulation
was that of exchequer bills, which to the great dis-
couragement of public credit and scandal to the
crown, were three per cent. less in value than the
sums specified in them. The present treasurer,
being then chancellor of the exchequer, procured an
act of parliament by which the bank of England
should be obliged in consideration of 45,000l. to ac-
cept and circulate those bills without any discount.
He then proceeded to stop the depredations of those
who dealt in remittances of money to the army;
who by unheard-of exactions in that kind of traffic
had amassed prodigious wealth at the public cost:
to which the earl of Godolphin had given too much
way, possibly by neglect, for I think he cannot be
accused of corruption.
But the new treasurer's chief concern was to re-
store the credit of the nation by finding some settle-
ment for unprovided debts, amounting in the whole
to 10,000,0007., which hung on the public as a load
equally heavy and disgraceful, without any prospect
of being removed, and which former ministers never
had the care or courage to inspect. He resolved to
go at once to the bottom of this evil; and having
461
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
computed and summed up the debt of the navy and
victualling, ordnance, and transport of the army,
and transport debentures made out for the service
of the last war, of the general mortgage tallies for
the year 1710, and some other deficiencies, he then
found out a fund of interest sufficient to answer all
this: which being applied to other uses could not
raise present money for the war, but in a very few
years would clear the debt it was engaged for. The
intermediate accruing interest was to be paid by the
treasurer of the navy; and as a further advantage to
the creditors, they should be erected into a company
for trading to the South Seas and for encourage-
ment of fishery. When all this was fully prepared
and digested, he made a motion in the house of
commons (who deferred extremely to his judgment
and abilities) for paying the debts of the navy and
other unprovided deficiencies, without entering into
particulars; which was immediately voted.
sudden stop was put to this affair by an unforeseen
accident; the chancellor of the exchequer (which
was then his title) being stabbed with a penknife
the following day at the Cockpit, in the midst of a
dozen lords of the council, by the sieur de Guiscard,
a French papist; the circumstances of which fact
being not within the compass of this history, I shall
only observe that after two months' confinement and
frequent danger of his life, he returned to his seat in
parliament.
But a
The overtures made by this minister, of paying so
vast a debt under the pressures of a long war, and
the difficulty of finding supplies for continuing it,
was during the time of his illness, ridiculed by his
enemies as an impracticable and visionary project:
and when upon his return to the house he had ex-
plained his proposal, the very proprietors of the
debt were, many of them, prevailed on to oppose it,
although the obtaining this trade either through Old
Spain or directly to the Spanish West Indies had
been one principal end we aimed at by this war.
However, the bill passed; and as an immediate con-
sequence the navy bills rose to about twenty per
cent., nor ever fell within ten of their discount.
Another good effect of this work appeared by the
parliamentary lotteries, which have since been erect-
ed. The last of that kind, under the former minis-
try, was eleven weeks in filling; whereas the first,
under the present, was filled in a very few hours,
although it cost the government less; and the others
which followed were full before the acts concerning
them could pass. And to prevent incumbrances of
this kind from growing for the future he took care,
by the utmost parsimony or by suspending payments
where they seemed less to press, that all stores for
the navy should be bought with ready money; by
which cent. per cent. has been saved in that mighty
article of our expense, as will appear from an account
taken at the victualling office on the 9th of August,
1712. And the payment of the interest was less a
burden upon the navy, by the stores being bought at
so cheap a rate.
It might look invidious to enter into further par-
ticulars upon this head, but of smaller moment.
What I have above related may serve to show in
how ill a condition the kingdom stood with relation
to its debts, by the corruption as well as negligence
of former management; and what prudent effectual
measures have since been taken to provide for old
incumbrances, and hinder the running into new.
This may be sufficient for the information of the
reader, perhaps already tired with a subject so little
entertaining as that of accompts: I shall therefore
now return to relate some of the principal matters
that passed in parliament during this session.
Upon the 18th of January the house of lords sent
down a bill to the commons for fixing the precedence
of the Hanover family, which probably had been
forgot in the acts for settling the succession of the
crown. That of Henry VIII., which gives the rank
to princes of the blood, carries it no further than to
nephews, nieces, and grandchildren of the crown;
by virtue of which the Princess Sophia is a princess
of the blood, as niece to king Charles I. of England,
and precedes accordingly; but the privilege does
not descend to her son the elector or the electoral
prince. To supply which defect and pay a compli-
ment to the presumptive heirs of the crown this bill,
as appears by the preamble, was recommended by
her majesty to the house of lords, which the com-
mons, to show their zeal for everything that might
be thought to concern the interest or honour of that
illustrious family, ordered to be read thrice, passed
nem. con., and returned to the lords without any
amendment on the very day it was sent down.
But the house seemed to have nothing more at
heart than a strict inquiry into the state of the na-
Some dis-
tion with respect to foreign alliances.
courses had been published in print, about the begin-
ning of the session, boldly complaining of certain
articles in the barrier treaty, concluded about three
years since by the lord viscount Townshend between
Great Britain and the States General; and showing,
in many particulars, the unequal conduct of the
powers in our alliance in furnishing their quotas
and supplies. It was asserted by the same writers,
"That these hardships put upon England had been
countenanced and encouraged by a party here at
home, in order to preserve their power, which could
be no otherwise maintained than by continuing the
war; as well as by her majesty's general abroad,
upon account of his own peculiar interest and gran-
deur." These loud accusations spreading themselves
throughout the kingdom, delivered in facts directly
charged, and thought, whether true or not, to be but
weakly confuted, had sufficiently prepared the minds
of the people: and by putting arguments into every-
body's mouth, had filled the town and country with
controversies both in writing and discourse.
point appeared to be of great consequence whether
the war continued or not; for in the former case
it was necessary that the allies should be brought to
a more equal regulation, and that the States in par-
ticular, for whom her majesty had done such great
things, should explain and correct those articles in
the barrier-treaty which were prejudicial to Britain;
and in either case it was fit the people should have
at least the satisfaction of knowing by whose coun-
sels, and for what designs, they had been so hardly
treated.
The
In order to this great inquiry the barrier-treaty,
with all other treaties and agreements entered into
between her majesty and her allies during the pre-
sent war, for raising and augmenting the proportions
for the service thereof, were by the queen's direc-
tions laid before the house.
Several resolutions were drawn up and reported
at different times upon the deficiencies of the allies
in furnishing their quotas upon certain articles in
the barrier treaty and upon the state of the war; by
all which it appeared, "That whatever had been
charged by public discourses in print against the late
ministry and the conduct of the allies was much less
than the truth." Upon these resolutions (by one of
which the lord viscount Townshend, who negotiated
and signed the barrier-treaty, was declared an enemy
to the queen and kingdom), and upon some further
directions to the committee a representation was
formed, and soon after the commons in a body pre-
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
485
sented it to the queen, the endeavours of the adverse
party not prevailing to have it re-committed.
This representation (supposed to be the work of
sir Thomas Hanmer's a pen) is written with much
energy and spirit, and will be a very useful authentic
record for the assistance of those who at any time
shall undertake to write the history of the present
times.
I did intend, for brevity sake, to have given the
reader only an abstract of it; but upon trial found
myself unequal to such a task without injuring so
excellent a piece. And although I think historical
relations are but ill patched up with long transcripts
already printed, which upon that account I have
hitherto avoided, yet this being the sum of all de-
bates and resolutions of the house of commons in
that great affair of the war, I conceived it could not
well be omitted:-
"MOST GRACIOUS SOVEREIGN,
"We, your majesty's most dutiful and loyal sub-
jects, the commons of Great Britain in parliament
assembled, having nothing so much at heart as to
enable your majesty to bring this long and expensive
war to an honourable and happy conclusion, have
taken it into our most serious consideration how the
necessary supplies to be provided by us may be best
applied, and how the common cause may in the
most effectual manner be carried on by the united
force of the whole confederacy: We have thought
ourselves obliged, in duty to your majesty, and in
discharge of the trust reposed in us, to inquire into
the true state of the war in all its parts: We have
examined what stipulations have been entered into
between your majesty and your allies; and how far
such engagements have, on each side, been made
good: We have considered the different interests
which the confederates have in the success of this
war; and the different shares they have contributed
to its support: We have, with our utmost care and
diligence, endeavoured to discover the nature, ex-
tent, and charge of it; to the end that, by comparing
the weight thereof with our own strength, we might
adapt the one to the other in such measure as neither
to continue your majesty's subjects under a heavier
burden than in reason and justice they ought to
bear, nor deceive your majesty, your allies, and our-
selves, by undertaking more than the nation in its
present circumstances is able to perform.
:
"Your majesty has been graciously pleased upon
our humble applications to order such materials to
be laid before us as have furnished us with the ne-
cessary information upon the particulars we have in-
quired into and when we shall have laid before
your majesty our observations and humble advice
upon this subject, we promise to ourselves this
happy fruit from it, that if your majesty's generous
and good purposes for the procuring of a safe and
lasting peace should, through the obstinacy of the
enemy or by any other means, be unhappily de-
feated, a true knowledge and understanding of the
past conduct of the war will be the best foundation
for a more frugal and equal management of it for
the time to come.
"In order to take the more perfect view of what
we proposed, and that we might be able to set the
whole before your majesty in a true light, we have
thought it necessary to go back to the beginning of
the war; and beg leave to observe the motive and
reasons upon which his late majesty king William
engaged first in it. The treaty of the grand alliance
explains those reasons to be for the supporting of
the pretensions of his imperial majesty, then actually
• The dean contributed a large share.
VOL. I.
engaged in a war with the French king, who had
usurped the entire Spanish monarchy for his grand-
son the duke of Anjou; and for the assisting of the
States General, who by the loss of their barrier
against France were then in the same or a more
dangerous condition than if they were actually in-
vaded. As these were just and necessary motives
for undertaking this war, so the ends proposed to be
obtained by it were equally wise and honourable;
for, as they are set forth in the eighth article of the
same treaty, they appear to have been the procuring
of an equitable and reasonable satisfaction to his im-
perial majesty; and sufficient securities for the do-
minions, provinces, navigation, and commerce of the
king of Great Britain and the States General; and
making effectual provision that the two kingdoms of
France and Spain should never be united under the
same government; and particularly that the French
should never get into the possession of the Spanish
West Indies, or be permitted to sail thither upon
the account of traffic or under any pretence whatso-
ever; and lastly, the securing to the subjects of the
king of Great Britain and the States General all
the same privileges and rights of commerce through-
out the whole dominions of Spain as they enjoyed
before the death of Charles II. king of Spain, by
virtue of any treaty, agreement, or custom, or any
other way whatsoever. For the obtaining of these
ends the three confederated powers engaged to assist
one another with their whole force, according to
such proportions as should be specified in a par-
ticular convention afterwards to be made for that
purpose. We do not find that any such convention
was ever ratified: but it appears that there was an
agreement concluded, which, by common consent,
was understood to be binding upon each party re-
spectively, and according to which the proportions of
Great Britain were from the beginning regulated
and founded. The terms of that agreement were,
That for the service at land his imperial majesty
should furnish ninety thousand men, the king of
Great Britain forty thousand, and the States General
one hundred and two thousand; of which there were
forty-two thousand intended to supply their gar-
risons, and sixty thousand to act against the common
enemy in the field; and with regard to the opera-
tions of the war at sea, they were agreed to be per-
formed jointly by Great Britain and the States Ge-
neral, the quota of ships to be furnished for that
service being five-eighths on the part of Great
Britain, and three-eighths on the part of the States
General.
"Upon this foot the war began in the year
1702, at which time the whole yearly expense
of it to England amounted to 3,706,4947.; a very
great charge, as it was then thought by her ma-
jesty's subjects, after the short interval of ease
they had enjoyed from the burden of the former war;
but yet a very moderate proportion in comparison
with the load which has since been laid upon them:
for it appears, by estimates given in to your com-
mons, that the sums necessary to carry on the service
for this present year in the same manner as it was per-
formed the last year amount to more than 6,960,000l.,
beside interest for the public debts and the deficien-
cies accruing the last year, which two articles require
1,143,000/. more; so that the whole demands upon
your commons are arisen to more than eight mil-
lions for the present annual supply. We know
people will make it uneasy to you to hear of so great
your majesty's tender regard for the welfare of your
it will fully convince your majesty of the necessity
a pressure as this upon them: and as we are assured
of our present inquiry, so we beg leave to represent
2 H
466
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
to you from what causes and by what steps this
immense charge appears to have grown upon us.
;
tugal brought an unequal share of burden upon us;
for although the emperor and the States General
were equally parties with your majesty in the treaty
with the king of Portugal, yet the emperor neither
furnishing his third part of the troops and subsidies
stipulated for, nor the Dutch consenting to take an
equal share of his imperial majesty's defect upon
themselves, your majesty has been obliged to furnish
two-thirds of the entire expense created by that
service. Nor has the inequality stopped there; for
ever since the year 1706, when the English and
Dutch forces marched out of Portugal into Castile,
the States General have entirely abandoned the war
in Portugal, and left your majesty to prosecute it
singly at your own charge; which you have accord.
there than even at first you took upon you to pro-
vide. At the same time your majesty's generous
endeavours for the support and defence of the king
of Portugal have been but ill seconded by that prince
himself; for notwithstanding that by his treaty he
had obliged himself to furnish twelve thousand foot
and three thousand horse upon his own account,
beside eleven thousand foot and two thousand horse
more in consideration of a subsidy paid him; yet,
according to the best information your commons can
procure, it appears that he has scarce at any time.
furnished thirteen thousand men in the whole.
"The service at sea, as it has been very large and
extensive in itself, so it has been carried on through
the whole course of the war in a manner highly dis-
advantageous to your majesty and your kingdom:
for the necessity of affairs requiring that great flects
should be fitted out every year, as well for maintain-
ing a superiority in the Mediterranean as for oppos-
ing any force which the enemy might prepare,
either at Dunkirk or in the ports of West France
your majesty's example and readiness in fitting out
your proportion of ships for all parts of that service
have been so far from prevailing with the States
General to keep pace with you, that they have been
deficient every year to a great degree in proportioningly done by replacing a greater number of troops
to what your majesty has furnished; sometimes no
less than two-thirds, and generally more than half of
their quota: hence your majesty has been obliged,
for the prevention of disappointments in the most
pressing services, to supply those deficiencies by
additional reinforcements of your own ships; nor
has the single increase of such a charge been the
only ill consequence that attended it; for by this
means the debt of the navy has been enhanced, so
that the discounts arising upon the credit of it have
affected all other parts of the service from the same
cause. Your majesty's ships of war have been
forced in greater numbers to continue in remote seas,
and at unseasonable times of the year, to the great
damage and decay of the British navy. This also
has been the occasion that your majesty has been
straitened in your convoys for trade; your coasts
have been exposed for want of a sufficient number
of cruisers to guard them; and you have been dis-
abled from annoying the enemy in their most bene-
ficial commerce with the West Indies, from whence
they received those vast supplies of treasure without
which they could not have supported the expenses
of this war.
"That part of the war which has been carried on
in Flanders was at first immediately necessary to the
security of the States General, and has since brought
them great acquisitions both of revenue and domi-
nion yet even there the original proportions have
been departed from, and during the course of the war
have been sinking by degrees on the part of Holland:
so that in this last year we find the number in which
they fell short of their three-fifths to your majesty's
two-fifths have been twenty thousand eight hundred
and thirty-seven men. We are not unmindful that
in the year 1703 a treaty was made between the two
nations for a joint augmentation of twenty thousand
men, wherein the proportions were varied, and
England consented to take half upon itself. But
it having been annexed as an express condition
to the grant of the said augmentation in parliament,
that the States General should prohibit all trade
and commerce with France, and that condition
having not been performed by them, the commons
think it reasonable that the first rule of three to two
ought to have taken place again, as well in that
as in other subsequent augmentations; more espe-
cially when they consider that the revenues of
those rich provinces which have been conquered
would, if they were duly applied, maintain a great
number of new additional forces against the common
enemy: notwithstanding which the States General
have raised none upon that account, but make use
of those fresh supplies of money only to ease them-
selves in the charges of their first established quota.
"As in the progress of the war in Flanders a dis-
proportion was soon created to the prejudice of
England, so the very beginning of the war in Por-
"In Spain the war has been yet more unequal and
burdensome to your majesty than in any other
branch of it; for being commenced without any
treaty whatsoever the allies have almost wholly de-
clined taking any part of it upon themselves. A
small body of English and Dutch troops were sent
thither in the year 1705; not as being thought suffi-
cient to support a regular war, or to make the con-
quest of so large a country, but with a view only of
assisting the Spaniards to set king Charles upon the
throne, occasioned by the great assurances which
were given of their inclinations to the house of
Austria; but this expectation failing, England was
insensibly drawn into an established war, under all
the disadvantages of the distance of the place, and
the feeble efforts of the other allies. The account
we have to lay before your majesty upon this head is,
that, although this undertaking was entered upon at
the particular and earnest request of the imperial
court, and for a cause of no less importance and
concern to them than the reducing of the Spanish
monarchy to the house of Austria, yet neither the
late emperors nor his present imperial majesty have
ever had any forces there on their own account till
the last year, and then only one regiment of foot
consisting of two thousand men. Though the States
General have contributed something more to this
service, yet their share has been inconsiderable; for
in the space of four years, from 1705 to 1708, both
inclusive, all the forces they have sent into that
country have not exceeded twelve thousand two
hundred men; and from the year 1708 to this time
they have not sent any forces or recruits whatsoever.
To your majesty's care and charge the recovery of
that kingdom has been in a manner wholly left, as
if none else were interested or concerned in it. And
the forces which your majesty has sent into Spain
in the space of seven years from 1705 to 1711, both
inclusive, have amounted to no less than fifty-seven
thousand nine hundred seventy-three men; beside
thirteen battalions and eighteen squadrons for
which your majesty has paid a subsidy to the em-
peror.
"How great the established expense of such a
number of men has been, your majesty very well
knows, and your commons very sensibly feel: but
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
467
the weight will be found much greater when it is
considered how many heavy articles of unusual and
extraordinary charge have attended this remote and
difficult service; all which have been entirely defrayed
by your majesty, except that one of transporting the
few forces which were sent by the States General,
and the victualling of them during their transporta-
tion only. The accounts delivered to your commons
show that the charge of your majesty's ships and
vessels employed in the service of the war in Spain
and Portugal, reckoned after the rate of 47. a man
per month, from the time they sailed from hence till
they returned, were lost, or put upon other services,
has amounted to 6,540,9667. 14s.; the charge of
transports on the part of Great Britain, for carrying
on the war in Spain and Portugal, from the begin-
ning of it till this time, has amounted to 1,336,7197.
19s. 11d.; that of victualling land forces for the same
service to 583,7701. 8s. 6d.; and that of contingen-
cies and other extraordinaries for the same service
to 1,840,3537.
There
"We should take notice to your majesty of several
sums paid upon account of contingencies and extra-
ordinaries in Flanders, making together the sum
of 1,107,0967.; but we are not able to make any
comparison of them with what the States General
have expended upon the same head, having no such
state of their extraordinary charge before us.
remains therefore but one particular more for your
majesty's observation, which arises from the subsi-
dies paid to foreign princes. These at the beginning
of the war were borne in equal proportion by your
majesty and the States General; but in this instance
also the balance has been cast in prejudice of your
majesty; for it appears that your majesty has since
advanced, more than your equal proportion, 3,155,000
crowns, beside extraordinaries paid in Italy, and not
included in any of the foregoing articles, which arise
to 539,5531.
"We have laid these several particulars before
your majesty in the shortest manner we have been
able; and by an estimate grounded on the preceding
facts it does appear that over and above the quotas
on the part of Great Britain, answering to those
contributed by your allies, more than 19,000,000l.
have been expended by your majesty, during the
course of this war, by way of surplusage or exceed-
ing in balance; of which none of the confederates
have furnished anything whatsoever.
"It is with very great concern that we find so
much occasion given us to represent how ill a use
hath been made of your majesty's and your subjects'
zeal for the common cause: that the interest of that
cause has not been proportionably promoted by it,
but others only have been eased at your majesty's
and your subjects' costs, and have been connived at
in laying their part of the burden upon this kingdom,
although they have upon all accounts been equally,
and in most respects much more nearly, concerned
than Britain in the issue of the war. We are per-
suaded your majesty will think it pardonable in us,
with some resentment, to complain of the little regard
which some of those whom your majesty of late
years intrusted have shown to the interest of their
country, in giving way at least to such unreasonable
impositions upon it, if not in some measure contriv-
ing them the course of which impositions has been
so singular and extraordinary, that the more the
wealth of this nation has been exhausted, and the
more your majesty's arms have been attended with
success, the heavier has been the burden laid upon
us; while on the other hand, the more vigorous your
majesty's efforts have been, and the greater the ad-
vantages which have redounded thence to your allies,
|
the more those allies have abated in the share of
their expense.
"At the first entrance into this war the commons
were induced to exert themselves in the extraordinary
manner they did, and to grant such large supplies as
had been unknown to former ages, in hopes thereby
to prevent the mischiefs of a lingering war, and to
bring that in which they were necessarily engaged to
a speedy conclusion: but they have been very un-
happy in the event, while they have so much reason
to suspect that what was intended to shorten the
war has proved the very cause of its long continu-
ance; for those to whom the profits of it have ac-
crued have been disposed not easily to forego them.
And your majesty will thence discern the true reason
why so many have delighted in a war which brought
in so rich a harvest yearly from Great Britain.
"We are as far from desiring as we know your
majesty will be from concluding any peace but upon
safe and honourable terms; and we are far from in-
tending to excuse ourselves from raising all necessary
and possible supplies for an effectual prosecution of
the war till such a peace can be obtained. All that
your faithful commons aim at, all that they wish, is
an equal concurrence from the other powers engaged
in alliance with your majesty, and a just application
of what has been already gained from the enemy
toward promoting the common cause. Several large
countries and territories have been restored to the
house of Austria; such as the kingdom of Naples,
the duchy of Milan, and other places in Italy. Others
have been conquered and added to their dominions;
as the two electorates of Bavaria and Cologn, the
duchy of Mantua, and the bishopric of Liege. These
having been reduced in a great measure by our
blood and treasure may, we humbly conceive, with
great reason be claimed to come in aid toward carry-
ing on the war in Spain. And therefore we make it
our earnest request to your majesty that you will give
instructions to your ministers to insist with the em-
peror that the revenues of those several places, ex-
cepting only such a portion thereof as is necessary
for their defence, be actually so applied. And as to
the other parts of the war to which your majesty has
obliged yourself by particular treaties to contribute,
we humbly beseech your majesty, that you will be
pleased to take effectual care that your allies do per-
form their parts stipulated by those treaties; and
that your majesty will for the future no otherwise
furnish troops, or pay subsidies, than in proportion
to what your allies shall actually furnish and pay.
When this justice is done to your majesty and to
your people, there is nothing which your commous
will not cheerfully grant toward supporting your
majesty in the cause in which you are engaged. And
whatever further shall appear to be necessary for
carrying on the war, either at sea or land, we will
effectually enable your majesty to bear your reason-
able share of any such expense; and will spare no
supplies which your subjects are able with their
utmost efforts to afford.
"After having inquired into and considered the
state of the war, in which the part your majesty has
borne appears to have been not only superior to that
of any one ally, but even equal to that of the whole
confederacy, your commons naturally inclined to
hope that they should find care had been taken of
securing some particular advantages to Britain in
the terms of a future peace; such as might afford a
prospect of making the nation amends in time for
that immense treasure which has been expended, and
those heavy debts which have been contracted, in
the course of so long and burdensome a war. This
reasonable expectation could no way have been better
2 H 2
468
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
answered than by some provision made for the fur | carried into those countries and places by the sub-
ther security and the greater improvement of thejects of the States General will be taken off, while
commerce of Great Britain. But we find ourselves
80
so very far disappointed in these hopes, that in a
treaty not long since concluded between your majesty
and the States General, under colour of a mutual
guarantee given for two points of the greatest im-
portance to both nations, the Succession and the
Barrier, it appears the interest of Great Britain has
been not only neglected but sacrificed; and that
several articles in the said treaty are destructive to
the trade and welfare of this kingdom, and therefore
highly dishonourable to your majesty.
those upon the goods imported by your majesty's
subjects remain; by which means Great Britain will
entirely lose this most beneficial branch of trade,
which it has in all ages been possessed of, even
from the time when those countries were governed
by the house of Burgundy, one of the most ancient
as well as the most useful allies to the crown of
England.
"Your commons observe, in the first place, that
several towns and places are, by virtue of this treaty,
to be put into the hands of the States General; par-
ticularly Newport, Dendermond, and the castle of
Ghent, which can in no sense be looked upon as
part of a barrier against France; but being the
keys of the Netherlands toward Britain, must make
the trade of your majesty's subjects in those parts
precarious, and, whenever the States think fit, totally
exclude them from it. The pretended necessity of of it.
The pretended necessity of
putting these places into the hands of the States
General, in order to secure to them a communication
with their barrier, must appear vain and groundless;
for the sovereignty of the Low Countries being not
to remain to an enemy, but to a friend and an ally,
that communication must be always secure and un-
interrupted; beside that, in case of a rupture or an
attack, the States have full liberty allowed them to
take possession of all the Spanish Netherlands, and
therefore needed no particular stipulation for the
towns above mentioned.
"Having taken notice of this concession made to
the States General for seizing upon the whole ten
provinces, we cannot but observe to your majesty
that in the manner this article is framed, it is an-
other dangerous circumstance which attends this
treaty; for had such a provision been confined to
the case of an apparent attack from France only,
the avowed design of this treaty had been fulfilled,
and your majesty's instructions to your ambassador
had been pursued; but this necessary restriction
has been omitted; and the same liberty is granted to
the States to take possession of all the Netherlands
whenever they shall think themselves attacked by
any other neighbouring nation as when they shall
be in danger from France; so that if it should at
any time happen (which your commons are very
unwilling to suppose) that they should quarrel even
with your majesty, the riches, strength, and advan-
tageous situation of these countries may be made.
use of against yourself, without whose generous
and powerful assistance they had never been con-
quered.
"To return to those ill consequences which relate
to the trade of your kingdoms. We beg leave to
observe to your majesty that, though this treaty re-
vives and renders your majesty a party to the four-
teenth and fifteenth articles of the treaty of Munster,
by virtue of which the impositions upon all goods
and merchandises brought into the Spanish Low
Countries by the sea are to equal those laid on
goods and merchandises imported by the Scheld,
and the canals of Sass and Swyn, and other mouths
of the sea adjoining; yet no care is taken to pre-
serve that equality upon the exportation of those
goods out of the Spanish provinces into those coun-
tries and places which by virtue of this treaty are
to be in possession of the States; the consequence
of which must in time be, and your commons are
informed that in some instances it has already proved
to be the case, that the impositions upon goods
"With regard to the other dominions and terri-
tories of Spain, your majesty's subjects have always
been distinguished in their commerce with them;
and both by ancient treaties and an uninterrupted
custom have enjoyed greater privileges and immu-
nities of trade than either the Hollanders or any
other nation whatsoever. And that wise and ex-
cellent treaty of the Grand Alliance provides effectu-
ally for the security and continuance of these
valuable privileges to Britain in such a manner as
that each nation might be left, at the end of war,
upon the same foot as it stood at the commencement
of it. But this treaty we now complain of, instead
of confirming your subjects' rights, surrenders and
destroys them; for although
destroys them; for although by the sixteenth and
seventeenth articles of the treaty of Munster, made
between his catholic majesty and the States General,
all advantages of trade are stipulated for and granted
to the Hollanders equal to what the English enjoyed,
yet the crown of England, not being a party to that
treaty, the subjects of England have never submitted
to those articles of it, nor even the Spaniards them-
selves ever observed them. But this treaty revives
those articles in prejudice of Great Britain, and
makes your majesty a party of them, and even a
guarantee to the States General for privileges against
your own people.
"In how deliberate and extraordinary a manner
your majesty's ambassador consented to deprive your
subjects of their ancient rights, and your majesty of
the power of procuring to them any new advantage,
most evidently appears from his own letters, which
by your majesty's directions have been laid before
your commons; for when matters of advantage to
your majesty and to your kingdom had been offered
as proper to be made parts of this treaty, they were
refused to be admitted by the States General upon
this reason and principle,-that nothing foreign to
the guarantees of the succession and of the barrier
should be mingled with them. Notwithstanding
which the States General had no sooner received
notice of a treaty of commerce concluded between
your majesty and the present emperor but they de-
parted from the rule proposed before, and insisted
upon the article of which your commons now com-
plain; which article your majesty's ambassador al-
lowed of, although equally foreign to the succession
or the barrier; and although he had for that reason
departed from other articles which would have been
for the service of his own country.
"We have forborne to trouble your majesty with
general observations upon this treaty, as it relates to
and affects the empire and other parts of Europe.
The mischiefs which arise from it to Great Britain
are what only we have presumed humbly to repre-
sent to you, as they are very evident and very great.
And as it appears that the lord viscount Townshend
had not any orders or authority for concluding se-
veral of those articles which are most prejudicial to
your majesty's subjects, we have thought we could
do no less than declare your said ambassador who
negotiated and signed, and all others who advised
the ratifying of this treaty, enemies to your majesty
and your kingdom.
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
469
"Upon these faithful informations and advices
from your commons, we assure ourselves, your ma-
jesty, in your great goodness to your people, will
rescue them from those evils which the private coun-
sels of ill-designing men have exposed them to; and
that in your great wisdom you will find some means
for explaining and amending the several articles of
this treaty, so as that they may consist with the in-
terest of Great Britain, and with real and lasting
friendship between your majesty and the States
General."
Between the representation and the first debates
upon the subject of it several weeks had passed,
during which time the parliament had other matters
likewise before them that deserve to be mentioned.
For on the 9th of February was repealed the act for
naturalizing foreign protestants, which had been
passed under the last ministry, and as many people
thought to very ill purposes. By this act any fo-
reigner who would take the oaths to the govern-
ment, and profess himself a protestant, of whatever
denomination, was immediately naturalized, and
had all the privileges of an English-born subject at
the expense of a shilling. Most protestants abroad
differ from us in the points of church government;
so that all the acquisitions by this act would increase
the number of dissenters; and therefore the pro-
posal that such foreigners should be obliged to con-
form to the established worship was rejected. But
because several persons were fond of this project as
a thing that would be of mighty advantage to the
kingdom, I shall say a few words upon it.
The maxim "That people are the riches of a
nation" has been crudely understood by many
writers and reasoners upon that subject. There are
several ways by which people are brought into a
country. Sometimes a nation is invaded and sub-
dued; and the conquerors seize the lands and make
the natives their under-tenants or servants. Colonies
have been always planted where the natives were
driven out or destroyed, or the land uncultivated
and waste. In those countries where the lord of
the soil is master of the labour and liberty of his
tenants, or of slaves bought by his money, men's
riches are reckoned by the number of their vassals.
And sometimes in governments newly instituted,
where there are not people to till the ground, many
laws have been made to encourage and allure num-
bers from the neighbouring countries. And in all
these cases the new comers have either lands allotted
them or are slaves to the proprietors. But to in-
vite helpless families by thousands into a kingdom
inhabited like ours, without lands to give them, and
where the laws will not allow that they should be
part of the property as servants, is a wrong appli-
cation of the maxim; and the same thing, in great,
as infants dropped at the doors, which are only a
burden and charge to the parish. The true way of
multiplying mankind to public advantage in such a
country as England is to invite from abroad only
able handicraftsmen and artificers, or such who
bring over a sufficient share of property to secure
them from want; to enact and enforce sumptuary
laws against luxury, and all excesses in clothing,
furniture, and the like; to encourage matrimony,
and reward, as the Romans did, those who have a
certain number of children. Whether bringing
over the Palatines were a mere consequence of this
law for a general naturalization, or whether, as many
surmised, it had some other meaning, it appeared
manifestly by the issue that the public was a loser
by every individual among them; and that a king-
dom can no more be the richer by such an import-
ation than a man can be fatter by a wen, which is
unsightly and troublesome at best, and intercepts
that nourishment which would otherwise diffuse it-
self through the whole body.
About a fortnight after, the commons sent up a
bill for securing the freedom of parliaments, by limit-
ing the number of members in that house who
should be allowed to possess employments under
the crown. Bills to the same effect promoted by
both parties had after making the like progress been
rejected in former parliaments; the court and mi-
nistry, who will ever be against such a law, having
usually a greater influence in the house of lords;
and so
and so it happened now. Although that influence
were less, I am apt to think that such a law would
be too thorough a reformation in one point while
we have so many corruptions in the rest; and per-
haps the regulations already made on that article
are sufficient, by which several employments inca-
pacitate a man from being chosen a member, and all
of them bring it to a new election.
For my own part, when I consider the temper of
particular persons, and by what maxims they have
acted (almost without exception) in their private
capacities, I cannot conceive how such a bill should
obtain a majority, unless every man expected to be
one of the fifty, which I think was the limitation
intended.
About the same time likewise the house of com-
mons advanced one considerable step toward securing
us against further impositions from our allies, re-
solving that the additional forces should be con-
tinued, but with a condition that the Dutch should
make good their propositions of three-fifths to two-
fifths, which those confederates had so long and
in so great degree neglected. The duke of Marl-
borough's deduction of 2 per cent. from the pay of
the foreign troops was also applied for carrying on
the war.
Lastly, within this period is to be included the
act passed to prevent the disturbing those of the
episcopal communion in Scotland in the exercise of
their religious worship and in the use of the liturgy
of the church of England. It is known enough that
the most considerable of the nobility and gentry
there, as well as great numbers of the people, dread
the tyrannical discipline of those synods and pres-
byteries, and at the same time have the utmost con-
tempt for the abilities and tenets of their teachers.
It was besides thought an inequality beyond all ap-
pearance of reason or justice, that dissenters of every
denomination here, who are the meanest and most
illiterate part among us, should possess a toleration
by law, under colour of which they might upon
occasion be bold enough to insult the religion esta-
blished; while those of the episcopal church in Scot-
land groaned under a real persecution. The only
specious objection against this bill was, that it set
the religion by law in both parts of the island upon
a different foot, directly contrary to the Union; be-
cause by an act passed this very session against occa-
sional conformity our dissenters were shut out from
all employments. A petition from Carstairs and
other Scotch professors against this bill was offered
to the house, but not accepted; and a motion made
by the other party to receive a clause that should
restrain all persons who have any office in Scotland
from going to episcopal meetings passed in the
negative. It is manifest that the promoters of this
clause were not moved by any regard for Scotland,
which is by no means their favourite at present,
only they hoped that if it were made part of a law
it might occasion such a choice of representatives in
both houses from Scotland as would be a con-
siderable strength to their faction here. But the
470
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
proposition was in itself extremely absurd, that so
many lords and other persons of distinction, who
have great employments, pensions, posts in the army,
and other places of profit, many of whom are in
frequent or constant attendance at the court, and
utterly dislike their national way of worship, should
be deprived of their liberty of conscience at home;
not to mention those who are sent thither from
hence to take care of the revenue and other affairs,
who would ill digest the changing of their religion
for that of Scotland.
With a further view of favour toward the episcopal
clergy of Scotland, three members of that country
were directed to bring in a bill for restoring the
patrons to their ancient rights of presenting ministers
to the vacant churches there, which the kirk during
the height of their power had obtained for them-
selves. And to conclude this subject at once, the
queen at the close of the session commanded Mr.
secretary St. John to acquaint the house, "That,
pursuant to their address, the profits arising from the
bishops' estates in Scotland, which remained in the
crown, should be applied to the support of such of
the episcopal clergy there as would take the oaths to
her majesty."
Nothing could more amply justify the proceedings
of the queen and her ministers for two years past
than that famous representation above at large re-
cited the unbiassed wisdom of the nation after the
strictest inquiry confirming those facts upon which
her majesty's counsels were grounded, and many per-
sons who were before inclined to believe that the
allies and the late ministry had been too much loaded
by the malice, misrepresentations, or ignorance of
writers, who were now fully convinced of their mis-
take by so great an authority. Upon this occasion
I cannot forbear doing justice to Mr. St. John,
who had been secretary-at-war for several years
under the former administration, where he had the
advantage of observing how affairs were managed
both at home and abroad. He was one of those
who shared in the present treasurer's fortune, re-
signing up his employment at the same time, and
upon that minister's being again taken into favour
this gentleman was some time after made secretary
of state. There he began afresh by the opportuni-
ties of his station to look into past miscarriages, and
by the force of an extraordinary genius and appli-
cation to public affairs, joined with an invincible
eloquence, laid open the scene of miscarriages and
corruptions through the whole course of the war in
so evident a manner, that the house of commons
seemed principally directed in their resolutions upon
this inquiry by his information and advice. In a short
time after the representation was published there
appeared a memorial in the Dutch gazette, as by
order of the States, reflecting very much upon the
said representation, as well as the resolutions on
which it was founded, pretending to deny some of
the facts and to extenuate others. This memorial,
translated into English, a common writer of news
had the boldness to insert in one of his papers.
complaint being made thereof to the house of com-
mons, they voted the pretended memorial to be a
false, scandalous, malicious libel, and ordered the
printer to be taken into custody.
A
It was the misfortune of the ministers, that while
they were baited by their professed adversaries of the
discontented faction, acting in confederacy with emis-
saries of foreign powers, to break the measures her
majesty had taken toward a peace, they met at the
same time with frequent difficulties from those who
agreed and engaged with them to pursue the same
general end, but sometimes disapproved the methods
|
|
as too slack and remiss, or in appearance now and
then perhaps a little dubious. In the first session
of this parliament a considerable number of gentle-
men, all members of the house of commons, began
to meet by themselves and consult what course they
ought to steer in this new world. They intended to
revive a new country party in parliament, which
might, as in former times, oppose the court in any
proceedings they disliked.
proceedings they disliked. The whole body was of
such who profess what is commonly called high-
church principles, upon which account they were
irreconcilable enemies to the late ministry and all
its adherents. On the other side, considering the
temper of the new men in power, that they were
persons who had formerly moved between the two
extremes, those gentlemen who were impatient for
an entire change, and to see all their adversaries laid
at once as low as the dust, began to be apprehensive
that the work would be done by halves. But the
juncture of affairs at that time both at home and
abroad would by no means admit of the least pre-
cipitation, although the queen and her first minister
had been disposed to it, which certainly they were
not. Neither did the court seem at all uneasy at
this league formed in appearance against it, but
composed of honest gentlemen who wished well to
their country, in which both were entirely agreed,
although they might differ about the means; or if
such a society should begin to grow resty, nothing
was easier than to divide them and render all their
endeavours ineffectual.
But in the course of that first session many of this
society became gradually reconciled to the new mi-
nistry, whom they found to be greater objects of the
common enemy's hatred than themselves; and the
attempt of Guiscard, as it gained further time for
deferring the disposal of employments, so it much
endeared that person [Mr. Harley] to the kingdom,
who was so near falling a sacrifice to the safety of
his country. Upon the last session, of which I am
now writing, this October Club (as it was called)
renewed their usual meetings, but were now very
much altered from their original institution, and
seemed to have wholly dropped the design as of no
further use. They saw a point carried in the house
of lords against the court that would end in the ruin
of the kingdom; and they observed the enemy's
whole artillery directly levelled at the treasurer's
head. In short, the majority of the club had so good
an understanding with the great men at court, that
two of the latter [Mr. St. John and Mr. Brom-
ley], to show to the world how fair a correspondence
there was between the court and country party,
consented to be at one of their dinners; but this in-
tercourse had an event very different from what was
expected, for immediately the more zealous members
of that society broke off from the rest and composed
a new one, made up of gentlemen who seemed to
expect little of the court, and perhaps with a mixture
of others who thought themselves disappointed or
too long delayed [called the March Club]. Many
of these were observed to retain an incurable jea-
lousy of the treasurer, and to interpret all delays
which they could not comprehend as a reserve of
favour in this minister to the persons and principles
of the abandoned party.
Upon an occasion offered about this time some
persons, out of distrust to the treasurer, endeavoured
to obtain a point which could not have been carried
without putting all into confusion. A bill was brought
into the house of commons appointing commissioners
to examine into the value of all lands and other in-
terests granted by the crown since the 13th day of
February, 1688, and upon what considerations such
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
471
grants had been made. The united country interest
in the house was extremely set upon passing the
bill. They had conceived an opinion from former
precedents that the court would certainly oppose
all steps toward a resumption of grants, and those
who were apprehensive that the treasurer inclined
the same way proposed the bill should be tacked to
another for raising a fund by duties upon soap and
paper, which has been always imputed, whether
justly or not, as a favourite expedient of those called
the Tory party. At the same time it was very well
known that the house of lords had made a fixed and
unanimous resolution against giving their concur-
rence to the passing of such united bills, so that the
consequences of this project must have been to bring
the ministry under difficulties, to stop the necessary
supplies, and endanger the good correspondence be-
tween both houses; notwithstanding all which, the
majority carried it for a tack, and the committee
was instructed accordingly to make the two bills into
one, whereby the worst that could happen would
have followed if the treasurer had not convinced the
warm leaders in this affair, by undeniable reasons,
that the means they were using would certainly dis-
appoint the end; that neither himself nor any other
of the queen's servants were at all against this in-
quiry; and he promised his utmost credit to help
forward the bill in the house of lords. He prevailed
at last to have it sent up single, but their lordships
gave it another kind of reception. Those who were
of the side opposite to the court withstood it to a
man, as in a party case; among the rest, some were
personally concerned, and others by friends and re-
lations, which they supposed a sufficient excuse to
be absent or dissent. Even those whose grants were
antecedent to this intended inspection began to be
alarmed as men whose neighbours' houses are on
fire. A show of zeal for the late king's honour occa-
sioned many reflections upon the date of this inquiry,
which was to commence with his reign, and the earl
of Nottingham, who had now flung away the mask
which he had lately pulled off, like one who had no
other view but that of vengeance against the queen
and her friends, acted consistently enough with his
design by voting as a lord against the bill after he
had directed his son in the house of commons to
vote for the tack.
Thus miscarried this popular bill for appointing
commissioners to examine into royal grants; but
whether those chiefly concerned did rightly consult
their own interest has been made a question, which
perhaps time will resolve. It was agreed that the
queen, by her own authority, might have issued out
a commission for such an inquiry; and everybody
believed that the intention of the parliament was
only to tax the grants with about three years' pur-
chase, and at the same time establish the proprietors
in possession of the remainder for ever; so that upon
the whole the grantees would have been great gainers
by such an act, since the titles of those lands as they
stood then were hardly of half value with others,
either for sale or settlement. Besides the example
of the Irish forfeitures might have taught these pre-
carious owners that when the house of commons
has once engaged in a pursuit which they think is
right, although it be stopped or suspended for awhile,
they will be sure to renew it upon every opportunity
that offers, and seldom fail of success: for instance,
if the resumption should happen to be made part of
a supply, which can be easily done without the ob-
jection of a tack, the grantees might possibly then
have much harder conditions given them; and I do
not see how they could prevent it. Whether the re-
suming of royal grants be consistent with good policy
or justice would be too long a disquisition; besides,
the profusion of kings is not likely to be a grievance
for the future, because there have been laws since
made to provide against that evil, or indeed rather
because the crown has nothing left to give away.
But the objection made against the date of the intend-
ed inquiry was invidious and trifling; for king James
II. made very few grants: he was a better manager,
and squandering was none of his faults; whereas the
late king, who came over here a perfect stranger to our
laws and to our people, regardless of posterity,
wherein he was not likely to survive, thought he
could no way better strengthen a new title than by
purchasing friends at the expense of everything
which was in his power to part with.
The reasonableness of uniting to a money-bill one
of a different nature, which is usually called tacking,
has been likewise much debated, and will admit of
argument enough. In ancient times when a parlia-
ment was held the commons first proposed their
grievances to be redressed, and then gave their aids;
so that it was a perfect bargain between the king
and the subject. This fully answered the ends of
tacking. Aids were then demanded upon occasions
which would hardly pass at present; such for instance
as those for making the king's son a knight, marry-
ing his eldest daughter, and some others of the like
sort. Most of the money went into the king's coffers
for his private use; neither was he accountable for
any part of it. Hence arose the form of the king's
thanking his subjects for their benevolence, when
any subsidies, tenths, or fifteenths, were given him.
But the supplies now granted are of another nature,
and cannot be properly called a particular benefit to
the crown, because they are all appropriated to their
several uses; so that, when the house of commons
tack to a money-bill what is foreign and hard to be
digested, if it be not passed, they put themselves and
their country in as great difficulties as the prince.
On the other side there have been several regulations
made, through the course of time, in parliamentary
proceedings; among which it is grown a rule that a
bill once rejected shall not be brought up again the
same session; whereby the commons seem to have
lost the advantage of purchasing a redress of their
grievances by granting supplies, which upon some
emergencies has put them upon this expedient of
tacking; so that there is more to be said on each side
of the case than is convenient for me to trouble the
reader or myself in deducing.
Among the matters of importance during this ses-
sion we may justly number the proceedings of the
house of commons with relation to the press; since
her majesty's message to the house of January 17th
concludes with a paragraph representing the great
licences taken in publishing false and scandalous
libels, such as are a reproach to any government;
and recommending to them to find a remedy equal
to the mischief. The meaning of these words in
the message seems to be confined to those weekly
and daily papers and pamphlets reflecting upon
the persons and the management of the minis-
try. But the house of commons, in their address
which answers this message, make an addition of
the blasphemies against God and religion; and it
is certain that nothing would be more for the honour
of the legislature than some effectual law for putting
a stop to this universal mischief; but as the person
[lord Bolingbroke] who advised the queen in that
part of her message had only then in his thoughts
the redressing of the political and factious libels, I
think he ought to have taken care, by his great credit
in the house, to have proposed some ways by which
that evil might be removed; the law for taxing single
472
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
papers having produced a quite contrary effect, as
was then foreseen by many persons, and has since
been found true by experience. For the adverse
party, full of rage and leisure since their fall, and
unanimous in defence of their cause, employ a set of
writers by subscription, who are well versed in all
the topics of defamation, and have a style and genius
levelled to the generality of readers; while those who
would draw their pens on the side of their prince
and country are discouraged by this tax, which exceeds
the intrinsic value both of the materials and the
work; a thing, if I be not mistaken, without ex-
ample.
It must be acknowledged that the bad practices
of printers have been such as to deserve the severest
animadversions of the public; and it is to be wished.
the party quarrels of the pen were always managed
with decency and truth: but in the mean time to open
the mouths of our enemies, and shut our own, is a
turn of politics that wants a little to be explained.
Perhaps the ministry now in possession, because
they are in possession, may despise such trifles as
this ; and it is not to be denied that, acting as they
do upon a national interest, they may seem to stand
in less need of such supports, or may safely fling them
down as no longer necessary. But if the leaders of
the other party had proceeded by this maxim their
power would have been none at all, or of very short
duration; and had not some active pens fallen into im-
prove the good dispositions of the people upon the late
change, and continued since to overthrow the falsehood
plentifully, and sometimes not unplausibly, scattered
by the adversaries, I am very much in doubt whether
those at the helm would now have reason to be
pleased with their success. A particular person may
with more safety despise the opinion of the vulgar,
because it does a wise man no real harm or good,
but the administration a great deal; and whatever
side has the sole management of the pen will soon
find hands enough to write down their enemies as
low as they please. If the people had no other idea
of those whom her majesty trusts in her greatest
affairs than what is conveyed by the passions of such
as would compass sea and land for their destruction,
what could they expect but to be torn in pieces by
the rage of the multitude? How necessary therefore
was it that the world should from time to time be
undeceived by true representations of persons and
facts, which have kept the kingdom steady to its
interests against all the attacks of a cunning and
virulent faction!
However, the mischiefs of the press were too ex-
orbitant to be cured by such a remedy as a tax upon
the smaller papers; and a bill for a much more
effectual regulation of it was brought into the house
of commons, but so late in the session that there was
no time to pass it: for there has hitherto always ap-
peared an unwillingness to cramp overmuch the
liberty of the press, whether from the inconveni-
ences apprehended from doing too much or too lit-
tle; or whether the benefit proposed by cach party
to themselves, from the service of their writers to-
ward the recovering or preserving of power, be
thought to outweigh the disadvantages. However
it came about, this affair was put off from one week
to another, and the bill not brought into the house
till the 8th of June. It was committed three days
and then heard of no more. In this bill there was
a clause inserted (whether industriously with design
to overthrow it), that the author's name and place
of abode should be set to every printed book, pam-
phlet, or paper; to which I believe no man who has
the least regard to learning would give his consent;
for beside the objection to this clause from the prac-
tice of pious men, who in publishing excellent writ-
ings for the service of religion have chosen, out of
an humble christian spirit, to conceal their names,
it is certain that all persons of true genius or know-
ledge have an invincible modesty and suspicion of
themselves upon their first sending their thoughts
into the world; and that those who are dull or super-
ficial, void of all taste and judgment, have disposi-
tions directly contrary: so that, if this clause had
been made part of a law, there would have been an
end, in all likelihood, of any valuable production for
the future either in wit or learning; and that in-
sufferable race of stupid people who are now every
day loading the press would then reign alone, in
time destroy our very first principles of reason, and
introduce barbarity among us, which is already kept
out with so much difficulty by so few hands.
Having given an account of the several steps made
toward a peace, from the first overtures begun by
France to the commencement of the second session,
I shall in the Fourth Book relate the particulars of
this great negotiation, from the period last mention-
ed to the present time; and because there happened
some passages in both houses occasioned by the
treaty, I shall take notice of them under that head.
There only remains to be mentioned one affair of
another nature, which the lords and commons took
into their cognizance after a very different manner,
wherewith I shall close this part of my subject.
The sect of quakers among us, whose system of
religion, first founded upon enthusiasm, has been
many years growing into a craft, held it an unlawful
action to take an oath to a magistrate. This doc-
trine was taught them by the author of their sect,
from a literal application of the text "Swear not
at all;" but being a body of people wholly turned
to trade and commerce of all kinds, they found them-
selves on many occasions deprived of the benefit of
the law as well as of voting at elections by a foolish
scruple which their obstinacy would not suffer them
to get over. To prevent this inconvenience these
people had credit enough in the late reign to have
an act passed that their solemn affirmation and de-
claration should be accepted instead of an oath in
the usual form. The great concern in those times
was to lay all religion upon a level; in order to
which this maxim was advanced, "That no man
ought to be denied the liberty of serving his country
upon account of a different belief in speculative opi-
nions;" under which term some people were apt
to include every doctrine of christianity. However,
this act in favour of the quakers was only temporary,
in order to keep them in constant dependence, and
expired of course after a certain term, if it were not
continued. Those people had therefore very early
in the session offered a petition to the house of
commons for a continuance of the act, which was
not suffered to be brought up. Upon this they ap-
plied themselves to the lords, who passed a bill ac-
cordingly, and sent it down to the commons, where
it was not so much as allowed a first reading.
And indeed it is not easy to conceive upon what
motives the legislature of so great a kingdom could
descend so low as to be ministerial and subservient
to the caprices of the most absurd heresy that ever
appeared in the world; and this in a point where
those deluding or deluded people stand singular
from all the rest of mankind who live under civil
government; but the designs of an aspiring party at
that time were not otherwise to be compassed than
by undertaking anything that would humble and
mortify the church and I am fully convinced that
if a set of sceptic philosophers (who profess to doubt
of everything) had been then among us, and mingled
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
473
their tenets with some corruptions of christianity, | put an end to such infamous proposals, it fell out
they might have obtained the same privilege; and
that a law would have been enacted, whereby the
solemn doubt of the people called sceptics should
have been accepted instead of an oath in the usual
form: so absurd are all maxims formed upon the in-
consistent principles of faction when once they are
brought to be examined by the standard of truth and
reason.
BOOK THE FOURTH.
WE left the plenipotentiaries of the allies and those
of the enemy preparing to assemble at Utrecht on
the 1st of Jan. N. S., in order to form a congress for
negotiating a general peace; wherein, although the
Dutch had made a mighty merit of their compliance
with the queen, yet they set all their instruments at
work to inflame both houses against her majesty's
measures. M. Bothmar, the Hanover envoy, took
care to print and disperse his memorial, of which I
have formerly spoken: Hoffman, the emperor's re-
sident, was soliciting for a yacht and convoys to
bring over prince Eugene at this juncture, fortified,
as it was given out, with great proposals from the
imperial court: the earl of Nottingham became a
convert for reasons already mentioned: money was
distributed where occasion required; and the dukes
of Somerset and Marlborough, together with the
earl of Godolphin, had put themselves at the head
of their junto and their adherents in order to attack.
the court. Some days after the vote passed the
house of lords for admitting into the address the earl
of Nottingham's clause against any peace without
Spain, M. Buys, the Dutch envoy, who had been
deep in all the consultations with the discontented
party for carrying that point, was desired to meet
with the lord privy seal, the earl of Dartmouth, and
Mr. secretary St. John, in order to sign a treaty be-
tween the queen and the States, to subsist after a
peace. There the envoy took occasion to expostulate
upon the advantages stipulated for Britain with
France; said, "It was his opinion that those mi-
nisters ought, in respect of the friendship between
both nations, to acquaint him what these advantages
were; and that he looked upon his country to be
entitled by treaty to share them equally with us;
that there was now another reason why we should
be more disposed to comply with him upon this
head ; for since the late resolution of the house of
lords he took it for granted it would be a dangerous
step in us to give Spain to a prince of the house of
Bourbon; and therefore that we should do well to
induce the States by such a concession to help us
out of this difficulty."
Mr. St. John made answer, "That there was not
a man in the queen's council capable of so base a
thought that if Buys had anything to complain of
which was injurious to Holland or justly tending to
hurt the good correspondence between us and the
States, he was confident her majesty would at all
times be ready to give it up; but that the ministers
scorned to screen themselves at the expense of their
country that the resolution Buys mentioned was
chiefly owing to foreign ministers intermeddling in
our affairs, and would perhaps have an effect the
projectors did not foresee: That if the peace became
impracticable the house of commons would certainly
put the war upon another foot, and reduce the pub-
lic expense within such a compass as our treaties
required in the strictest sense, and as our present
condition would admit, leaving the partisans for war
to supply the rest.”
Although the secretary believed this answer would
otherwise, for shortly after M. Buys applied himself
to the treasurer, promising to undertake "That his
masters should give up the article of Spain, pro-
vided they might share with us in the assiento for
negroes." To which the treasurer's answer was
short, "That he would rather lose his head than
consent to such an offer."
It is manifest by this proceeding that whatever
schemes were forming here at home, in this junc-
ture, by the enemies to the peace, the Dutch only
designed to fall in with it as far as it would answer
their own account; and by a strain of the lower
politics, wherein they must be allowed to excel every
country in Christendom, lay upon the watch for a
good bargain by taking advantage of the distress
they themselves had brought upon their nearest
neighbour and ally.
But the queen highly resented this indignity from
a republic upon whom she had conferred so many
obligations. She could not endure that the Dutch
should employ their instruments to act in confede-
racy with a cabal of factious people, who were pre-
pared to sacrifice the safety of their prince and
country to the recovery of that power they had so
long possessed and abused. Her majesty knew very
well that, whatever were the mistaken or affected
opinion of some people at home upon the article of
Spain, it was a point the States had long given up;
who had very openly told our ministry, "That the
war in that country was only our concern, and what
their republic had nothing to do with." It is true
the party-leaders were equally convinced that the
recovery of Spain was impracticable; but many
things may be excused in a professed adversary fallen.
under a disgrace which are highly criminal in an
ally upon whom we are that very instant conferring
new favours. Her majesty therefore thought it
high time to exert herself and at length put a stop to
foreign influence upon British counsels; so that
after the earl of Nottingham's clause against any
peace without Spain was carried in the house of
lords, directions were immediately sent to the earl
of Strafford at the Hague to inform the Dutch
"That it was obtained by a trick, and would conse-
quently turn to the disappointment and confusion of
the contrivers and the actors." He was likewise
instructed to be very dry and reserved to the pen-
sionary and Dutch ministers; to let them know
"The queen thought herself ill-treated; and that
they would soon hear what effects those measures
would have upon a mild and good temper, wrought
up to resentment by repeated provocations: that
the States might have the war continued if they
pleased, but that the queen would not be forced to
carry it on after their manner, nor would suffer
them to make her peace or to settle the interests of
her kingdoms."
To others in Holland who appeared to be more
moderate the earl was directed to say, "That the
States were upon a wrong scent; that their minister
here mistook everything that we had promised; that
we would perform all they could reasonably ask from
us in relation to their barrier and their trade; and
that Mons. Buys dealt unfairly if he had not told
them as much; but that Britain, proceeding in some
respects upon a new scheme of politics, would no
longer struggle for impossibilities nor be amused by
words: that our people came more and more to
their senses; and that the single dispute now was,
whether the Dutch would join with a faction against
the queen or with the nation for her.'
"
The court likewise resolved to discourage prince
Eugene from his journey to England, which he was
174
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
about this time undertaking, and of which I have
spoken before. He was told "That the queen
wanted no exhortations to carry on the war; but the
project of it should be agreed abroad, upon which
her majesty's resolutions might soon be signified;
and until she saw what the emperor and allies were
ready to do she would neither promise nor engage
for anything." At the same time Mr. St. John told |
|
Hoffman, the emperor's resident here, "That if the
prince had a mind to divert himself in London
the ministers would do their part to entertain
him, and be sure to trouble him with no manner of
business."
This coldness retarded the prince's journey for
some days, but did not prevent it, although he had
a second message by the queen's order, with this
further addition, "That his name had lately been
made use of on many occasions to create ferment
and stir up sedition; and that her majesty judged it
would be neither safe for him nor convenient for
her that he should come over at this time." But
all would not do; it was enough that the queen did
not absolutely forbid him; and the party-confede-
rates, both foreign and domestic, thought his pre-
sence would be highly necessary for their service.
Toward the end of December, the lord privy seal
set out for Holland. He was ordered to stop at the
Hague, and in conjunction with the earl of Strafford
to declare to the States, in her majesty's name," Her
resolutions to conclude no peace wherein the allies
in general, and each confederate in particular, might
not find their ample security and their reasonable
satisfaction: that she was ready to insist upon their
barrier and advantages in their trade, in the manner
the States themselves should desire; and to concert
with them such a plan of treaty as both powers
might be under mutual engagements never to recede
from: that nothing could be of greater importance
than for the ministers of Great Britain and Holland
to enter the congress under the strictest ties of con-
fidence, and entirely to concur throughout the
course of these negotiations; to which purpose it
was her majesty's pleasure that their lordships
should adjust with the Dutch ministers the best
manner and method for opening and carrying on
the conferences, and declare themselves instructed
to communicate freely their thoughts and measures
to the plenipotentiaries of the States, who they
hoped had received the same instructions.'
Lastly, The two lords were to signify to the pen-
sionary and the other ministers, "That her majesty's
preparations for the next campaign were carried on
with all the despatch and vigour the present circum-
stances would allow; and to insist that the same
might be done by the States; and that both powers
should join in pressing the emperor and other allies
to make greater efforts than they had hitherto done;
without which the war must languish, and the terms
of peace become every day more disadvantageous."
The two British plenipotentiaries went to Utrecht
with very large instructions; and after the usual
manner were to make much higher demands from
France (at least in behalf of the allies) than they
could have any hope to obtain. The sum of what
they had in charge beside matter of form was to
concert with the ministers of the several powers en-
gaged against France, "That all differences arising
among them should be accommodated between
themselves, without suffering the French to in-
terfere: that whatever were proposed to France by a
minister of the alliance should be backed by the
whole confederacy: that a time might be fixed for
the conclusion as there had been for the commence-
ment of the treaty." Spain was to be demanded
|
out of the hands of the Bourbon family, as the most
effectual means for preventing the union of that
kingdom with France; and whatever conditions the
allies could agree upon for hindering that union
their lordships were peremptorily to insist on.
As to the interests of each ally in particular, the
plenipotentiaries of Britain were to demand "Stras-
burgh, the fort of Kehl with its dependencies, and
the town of Brisac with its territory, for the emperor:
that France should possess Alsatia according to the
treaty of Westphalia, with the right of the prefecture
only over the ten imperial cities in that country :
that the fortifications of the said ten cities be put
into the condition they were in at the time of the
said treaty, except Landau, which was to be de-
manded for the emperor and empire, with liberty of
demolishing the fortifications: that the French king
should at a certain time, and at his own expense, de-
molish the fortresses of Hunningen, New Brisac,
and Fort Lewis, never to be rebuilt.
"That the town and fortress of Rhinfelt should
be demanded for the landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, un-
til that matter be otherwise settled.
"That the clause relating to religion in the fourth
article of the treaty of Ryswick, and contrary to that
of Westphalia, should be annulled; and the state of
religion in Germany restored to the tenor of the
treaty of Westphalia.
"That France should acknowledge the king of
Prussia, and give him no disturbance in Neufchatel
and Valengin.
"That the principality of Orange and other es-
tates belonging to the late king William should be
restored as law should direct,
"That the duke of Hanover should be acknow -
ledged elector.
"That the king of Portugal should enjoy all the
advantages stipulated between him and the allies.
"That the States should have for their barrier
Furnes, Fort Knock, Menin, Ipres, Lisle, Tournay,
Condé, Valenciennes, Maubeuge, Douay, Bethune,
Avie, St. Venant, and Bouchain, with their cannon,
&c.: that the French king should restore all the
places belonging to Spain now or during this war
in his possession in the Netherlands: that such part
of them as should be thought fit might be allowed
likewise for a barrier to the States: that France
should grant the tariff of 1664 to the States; and
exemption of fifty pence per ton upon Dutch goods
trading to that kingdom: but that these articles in
favour of the States should not be concluded till the
barrier treaty were explained to the queen's satisfac-
tion.
"That the duke of Savoy should be put in posses-
sion of all taken from him in this war, and enjoy
the places yielded to him by the emperor and other
allies: that France should likewise yield to him
Exilles, Fenestrilles, Chaumont, the valley of Pre-
gata, and the land lying between Piedmont and
Mount Genu.
"That the article about the demolishing of Dun-
kirk should be explained."
As to Britain, the plenipotentiaries were to insert,
"That Nieuport, Dendermond, Ghent, and all places
which appear to be a barrier rather against Eng-
land than France, should either not be given to the
Dutch, or at least in such a manner as not to hinder
the queen's subjects free passage to and from the
Low Countries.
"That the 7th article of the barrier treaty, which
empowers the States in case of an attack to put
troops at discretion in all the places of the Low
Countries, should be so explained as to be under-
stood only of an attack from France.
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
475
"That Britain should trade to the Low Countries
with the same privileges as the States themselves.
Hague, was accordingly directed to do: and if they
should object, of what ill consequence it would be
for the enemy to know her majesty designed to les-
sen her expenses; he might answer, "That the
ministers here were sorry for it; but the Dutch could
only blame themselves for forcing into such a neces-
sity a princess to whose friendship they owed the
"That the most christian king should acknow-
ledge the succession of Hanover, and immediately
oblige the pretender to leave France; and that the
said king should promise for himself and his heirs
never to acknowledge any person for king or queen
of England otherwise than according to the settle-preservation and grandeur of their republic, and
ments now in force.
"That a treaty of commerce should be commenced
as soon as possible between France and Britain;
and in the mean time the necessary points relating
to it be settled.
"That the Isle of St. Christopher's should be sur-
rendered to the queen, Hudson's Bay restored,
Placentia and the whole island of Newfoundland
yielded to Britain by the most christian king: who
was likewise to quit all claim to Nova Scotia and
Annapolis Royal.
"That Gibraltar and Minorca should be annexed
to the British crown.
"That the assiento should be granted to Britain
for thirty years, with the same advantage as to
France; with an extent of ground on the river of
Plata for keeping and refreshing the negroes.
"That Spain should grant to the subjects of
Britain as large privileges as to any other nation
whatsoever; as likewise an exemption of duties,
amounting to an advantage of at least 15 per cent.
"That satisfaction should be demanded for what
should appear to be justly due to her majesty from
the emperor and the States.
"Lastly, That the plenipotentiaries should consult
with those of the protestant allies the most effectual
methods for restoring the protestants of France to
their religious and civil liberties, and for the imme-
diate release of those who are now in the galleys."
What part of these demands were to be insisted
on, and what were to be given up, will appear by
the sequel of this negotiation. But there was no
difficulty of moment enough to retard the peace,
except a method for preventing the union of France
and Spain under one prince, and the settling the
barrier for Holland; which last, as claimed by the
States, could in prudence and safety be no more al-
lowed by us than by France.
The States General having appointed Mons. Buys
to be one of their plenipotentiaries at Utrecht, that
minister left England a few days after the lord privy
seal. In his last conference with the lords of the
council he absolutely declared, "That his masters.
had done their utmost, both by sea and land; that
it was unreasonable to expect more; that they had ex-
ceeded their proportion, even beyond Britain; and
that as to the emperor and other allies, he knew no
expedient left for making them act with more vigour
than to pursue them with pathetical exhortations."
This minister was sent over hither instructed and
empowered by halves. The ferment raised by the
united endeavours of our party leaders, among whom
he was a constant fellow-labourer to the utmost of
his skill, had wholly confounded him; and thinking
to take the advantage of negotiating well for Holland
at the expense of Britain, he acted but ill for his own
country, and worse for the common cause. How-
ever, the queen's ministers and he parted with the
greatest civility; and her majesty's present was
double, the value of what is usual to the character
he bore.
As the queen was determined to alter her measures
in making war, so she thought nothing would so
much convincs the States of the necessity of a peace
as to have them frequently put in mind of this reso-
lution; which her ambassador Strafford, then at the
|
choosing to lean on a broken faction rather than
place their confidence in the queen."
It was her majesty's earnest desire that there should
be a perfect agreement at this treaty between the
ministers of all the allies; than which nothing could
be more effectual to make France comply with their
Above all she directed her plenipo-
just demands.
tentiaries to enter into the strictest confidence with
those of Holland; and that, after the States had con-
sented to explain the barrier treaty to her reasonable
satisfaction, both powers should form between them
a plan of general peace, from which they would not
recede, and such as might secure the quiet of Europe,
as well as the particular interests of each confederate.
The Dutch were accordingly pressed before the
congress opened to come to some temperament upon
that famous treaty; because the ministers here ex-
pected it would be soon laid before the house of com-
mons, by which the resentment of the nation would
probably appear against those who had been actors
and advisers in it: but Mons. Buys, who usually
spoke for his colleagues, was full of opposition, be-
gan to expostulate upon the advantages Britain had
stipulated with France; and to insist "That his
masters ought to share equally in them all, but
especially the assiento contract:" so that no pro-
gress was made in fixing a previous good correspond-
ence between Britain and the States, which her
majesty had so earnestly recommended.
Certain regulations having been agreed upon for
the avoiding of ceremony and other inconveniences,
the conferences began at Utrecht, upon the 29th of
January, N. S., 1711-12, at ten in the morning.
The ministers of the allies going into the town-house
at one door, and those of France at the same instant
at another, they all took their seats without distinc-
tion; and the bishop of Bristol, lord privy seal, first
plenipotentiary of Britain, opened the assembly with
a short speech, directed to the ministers of France,
in words to the following effect:—
"MESSIEURS,-We are here to meet to-day in the
name of God, to enter upon a treaty of general peace
between the high allies and the king your master.
We bring sincere intentions, and express orders from
our superiors, to concur, on their part, with what-
ever may advance and perfect so salutary and chris-
tian a work. On the other side we hope you have
the same disposition; and that your orders will be
so full as to be able without loss of time to answer
the expectation of the high allies, by explaining your-
selves clearly and roundly upon the points we shall
have to settle in these conferences; and that you will
perform this in so plain and specific a manner as
every prince and state in the confederacy may find a
just and reasonable satisfaction."
The French began by promising to explain the
overtures which Mons. Mesnager had delivered to
the queen some months before, and to give in a spe-
cific project of what their master would yield, pro-
vided the allies would each give a specific answer
by making their several demands; which method,
after many difficulties and affected delays in the
Dutch, was at length agreed to.
But the States, who had with the utmost discon-
tent seen her majesty at the head of this negotiation,
where they intended to have placed themselves
476
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
sion.
·
otherwise her majesty must save her own country,
and join with such of her allies as would join with
her.
"As to the war, that the conduct of the allies, and
their opposition to the queen, her private intrigues
carried on among her own subjects, as well as by
open remonstrances, had made the house of commons
take that matter out of the hands of the ministers.
"Lastly, That in case the present treaty were
broken off by the Dutch refusing to comply, her ma-
jesty thought it reasonable to insist that some cau-
tionary places be put into her hands as pledges that
no other negotiation should be entered into by the
States General without her participation."
began to discover their ill-humour upon every occa-
They raised endless difficulties about settling
the barrier treaty as the queen desired; and in one
of the first general conferences they would not suffer
the British secretary to take the minutes, but nomi-
nated some Dutch professor for that office; which
the queen refused, and resented their behaviour, as
a useless cavil, intended only to show their want of
respect. The British plenipotentiaries had great
reason to suspect that the Dutch were at this time
privately endeavouring to engage in some separate
measures with France, by the intervention of one
Moleau, a busy factious agent at Amsterdam, who
had been often employed in such intrigues; and that
this was the cause which made them so litigious and
slow in all their steps, in hopes to break the congress,
and find better terms for their trade and barrier from
the French than we ever could think fit to allow
them. The Dutch ministers did also apply them-
selves with industry to cultivate the imperial pleni-
potentiary's favour, in order to secure all advantages
of commerce with Spain and the West Indies, in case
those dominions could be procured for the emperor:
for this reason they avoided settling any general plan
of peace in concert with the plenipotentiaries of
Britain, which her majesty desired; and Mons. Buys
plainly told their lordships "That it was a point |
which neither he nor his colleagues could consent
to before the States were admitted equal sharers
with Britain in the trade of Spain."
The court, having notice of this untractable temper
in the Dutch, gave direct orders to the plenipotentia-
ries of Britain for pressing those of the States to ad-
just the gross inequalities of the barrier treaty; since
nothing was more usual or agreeable to reason than
for princes who find themselves aggrieved by preju-
dicial contracts to expect they should be modified
and explained. And since it now appeared by votes
in the house of commons that the sense of the nation
agreed with what her majesty desired, if the Dutch
ministers would not be brought to any moderate
terms upon this demand, their lordships were directed
to improve and amend the particular concessions
made to Britain by France, and form them into a
treaty; for the queen was determined never to allow
the States any share in the assiento, Gibraltar, and
Port Mahon; nor could think it reasonable that they
should be upon an equal foot with her in the trade
of Spain, to the conquest whereof they had contri-
buted so little.
Nor was the conduct of the imperial minister at
this time less perplexing than that of the States;
both those powers appearing fully bent either upon
breaking off the negotiation or upon forcing from
the queen those advantages she expected by it for
her own kingdoms. Her majesty therefore thought
fit, about the beginning of March, to send Mr. Thos.
Harley, a near relation of the treasurer's, to Utrecht,
fully informed of her mind; which he was directed
to communicate to the plenipotentiaries of Britain.
Mr. Harley stopped in his way to Utrecht at the
Hague, and there told the pensionary
"That
nothing had happened lately in England but what
was long ago foretold him, as well as the other mi-
nisters of the allies: that the proceedings of the
house of commons, particularly about the barrier
treaty, must chiefly be ascribed to the manner in
which the queen and the nation had been treated by
Mons. Bothmar, Count Gallas, Buys, and other
foreign ministers: that if the States would yet enter
into a strict union with the queen, give her satisfac-
tion in the said treaty, and join in concert with her
plenipotentiaries at Utrecht, a safe and advantageous
peace might be obtained for the whole alliance;
|
Mr. Harley's instructions to the queen's plenipoten-
tiaries were, "That they should press those of France
to open themselves as far as possible in concerting
such a plan of a general peace as might give reason-
able satisfaction to all the confederates, and such as
her parliament would approve that the people of
England believed France would consent to such a
plan; wherein if they found themselves deceived
they would be as eager for prosecuting the war as
ever."
Their lordships were to declare openly to the
Dutch, "That no extremity should make her ma-
jesty depart from insisting to have the assiento for
her own subjects, and to keep Gibraltar and Port
Mahon but if the States would agree with her upon
these three heads she would be content to reduce
the trade of Spain and the West Indies to the condi-
tion it was in under the late catholic king Charles II.”
The French were further to be pressed, "That
the pretender should be immediately sent out of that
kingdom; and that the most effectual method should
be taken for preventing the union of France and
Spain under one prince."
About this time her majesty's ministers, and those
of the allies at Utrecht, delivered in the several pos-
tulata or demands of their masters to the French
plenipotentiaries; which having been since made
public, and all of them, except those of Britain, very
much varying in the course of the negotiation, the
reader would be but ill entertained with a transcript
of them here.
Upon intelligence of the last dauphin's death, the
father, son, and grandson, all of that title, dying
within the compass of a year, Mons. Gualtier went
to France with letters to the marquis de Torcy, to
propose her majesty's expedient for preventing the
union of that kingdom with Spain; which, as it was
the most important article to be settled, in order to
secure peace for Europe, so it was a point that re-
quired to be speedily adjusted under the present cir-
cumstances and situation of the Bourbon family;
there being only left a child of two years old to stand
between the duke of Anjou and his succeeding to
the crown of France.
Her majesty likewise pressed France, by the same
despatches, to send full instructions to their plenipo-
tentiaries, empowering them to offer such a plan of
peace as might give reasonable satisfaction to all her
allies.
The queen's proposal for preventing a union be-
tween France and Spain was, "That Philip should
formally renounce the kingdom of France for him-
self and his posterity; and that this renunciation
should be confirmed by the cortes or states of Spain.
who without question would heartily concur against
such a union, by which their country must become a
province to France." In like manner the French
princes of the blood were severally to renounce all
title to Spain.
The French raised many difficulties upon several
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
477
particulars of this expedient, but the queen persisted
to refuse any plan of peace before this weighty point
were settled in the manner she proposed; which was
afterwards submitted to, as in proper place we shall
observe. In the mean time the negotiation at Utrecht
proceeded with a very slow pace; the Dutch inter-
posing all obstructions they could contrive, refusing
to come to any reasonable temper upon the barrier
treaty, or to offer a plan in concert with the queen
for a general peace. Nothing less would satisfy
them than the partaking in those advantages we had
stipulated for ourselves, and which did no wise inter-
fere with their trade or security. They still expect-
ed some turn in England. Their friends on this
side had ventured to assure them "That the queen
could not live many months;" which indeed from
the bad state of her majesty's health was reasonable
to expect. The British plenipotentiaries daily dis-
covered new endeavours of Holland to treat privately
with France. And lastly, those among the States
who desired the war should continue strove to gain.
time until the campaign should open; and, by re-
solving to enter into action with the first opportu-
nity, render all things desperate, and break up the
congress.
This scheme did exactly fall in with prince Eu-
gene's dispositions, whom the States had chosen for
their general, and of whose conduct in this conjunc-
ture the queen had too much reason to be jealous.
But her majesty, who was resolved to do her utmost
toward putting a good and speedy end to the war,
having placed the duke of Ormond at the head of
her forces in Flanders, where he was now arrived,
directed him to keep all the troops in British pay,
whether subjects or foreigners, immediately under
his own command; and to be cautious for awhile
in engaging in any action of importance, unless upon
a very apparent advantage. At the same time the
queen determined to make one thorough trial of the
disposition of the States, by allowing them the ut-
most concessions that could any way suit either with
her safety or honour. She therefore directed her
ministers at Utrecht to tell the Dutch, "That in
order to show how desirous she was to live in perfect
amity with that republic, she would resign up the 15
per cent. advantage upon English goods sent to the
Spanish dominions, which the French king had of
fered her by a power from his grandson; and be con-
tent to reduce that trade to the state in which it was
under the late king of Spain. She would accept of
any tolerable softening of those words in the 7th
article of the barrier treaty, where it is said,
"The States shall have power, in case of an appa-
rent attack, to put as many troops as they please into
all the places of the Netherlands,' without specifying
an attack from the side of France, as ought to have
been done; otherwise the queen might justly think
they were preparing themselves for a rupture with
Britain. Her majesty likewise consented that the
States should keep Nieuport, Dendermond, and the
castle of Ghent, as an addition to their barrier, al-
though she were sensible how injurious those con
cessions would be to the trade of her subjects; and
would waive the demand of Ostend being delivered
into her hands, which she might with justice insist
on. In return for all this, that the queen only de-
sired the ministers of the States would enter into a
close correspondence with hers; and settle between
them some plan of a general peace, which might give
reasonable content to all her allies, and which her
majesty would endeavour to bring France to consent
to. She desired the trade of her kingdoms to the
Netherlands, and to the towns of their barrier, might
be upon as good a foot as it was before the war be-
| gan: that the Dutch would not insist to have a
share in the assiento, to which they had not the least
pretensions; and that they would no longer encou-
rage the intrigues of a faction against her govern-
ment. Her majesty assured them, in plain terms,
that her own future measures, and the conduct of
her plenipotentiaries, should be wholly governed by
their behaviour in these points; and that her offers
were only conditional, in case of their compliance
with what she desired."
But all these proofs of the queen's kindness and
sincerity could not avail. The Dutch ministers
pleaded "They had no power to concert the plan of
general peace with those of Britain.” However,
they assured the latter "That the assiento was the
only difficulty which stuck with their masters."
Whereupon at their desire a contract for that traffic
was twice read to them; after which they appeared
very well satisfied, and said "They would go to the
Hague for further instructions.' Thither they
went; and after a week's absence returned the same
answer, "That they had no power to settle a scheme
of peace; but could only discourse of it when the
difficulties of the barrier treaty were over." And
Mons. Buys took a journey to Amsterdam on pur-
pose to stir up that city where he was pensionary
against yielding the assiento to Britain; but was
unsuccessful in his negotiation; the point being
yielded up there and in most other towns in Holland.
It will have an odd sound in history, and appear
hardly credible, that in several petty republics of
hardly credible, that in several petty republics, of
single towns which make up the States General, it
should be formally debated whether the queen of
Great Britain, who preserved the commonwealth at
the charge of so many millions, should be suffered
to enjoy after a peace the liberty granted her by
Spain of selling African slaves in the Spanish domi-
nions of America! But there was a prevailing
faction at the Hague violently bent against any
peace where the queen must act that part which
they had intended for themselves. These politicians,
who held constant correspondence with their old
dejected friends in England, were daily fed with the
vain hopes of the queen's death or the party's re-
storation. They likewise endeavoured to spin out
the time till prince Eugene's activity had pushed
on some great event which might govern or perplex
the conditions of peace. Therefore the Dutch pleni-
potentiaries who proceeded by the instructions of
those mistaken patriots, acted in every point with a
spirit of litigiousness, than which nothing could
give greater advantage to the enemy; a strict union
between the allies, but especially Britain and Hol-
land, being doubtless the only means for procuring
safe and honourable terms from France.
But neither was this the worst; for the queen re-
ceived undoubted intelligence from Utrecht that the
Dutch were again attempting a separate correspond-
ence with France; and by letters intercepted here
from Vienna it was found that the imperial court,
whose ministers were in the utmost confidence with
those of Holland, expressed the most furious rage
against her majesty for the steps she had taken to
advance a peace.
This unjustifiable treatment the queen could not
digest from an ally upon whom she had conferred so
many signal obligations, whom she had used with
so much indulgence and sincerity during the whole
course of the negotiation, and had so often invited
to go along with her in every motion toward a peace.
She apprehended likewise that the negotiation
might be taken out of her hands if France could be
secure of easier conditions in Holland, or might
think that Britain wanted power to influence the
478
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
whole confederacy. She resolved therefore on this
occasion to exert herself with vigour, steadiness, and
despatch; and in the beginning of May sent her
commands to the earl of Strafford to repair imme-
diately to England, in order to consult with her
ministers what was proper to be done.
The proposal above mentioned for preventing the
union of France and Spain met with many difficul-
ties; Mons. de Torcy raising objections against
several parts of it. But the queen refused to pro-
ceed any further with France until this weighty
point were fully settled to her satisfaction; after
which she promised to grant a suspension of arms,
provided the town and citadel of Dunkirk might be
delivered as a pledge into her hands; and proposed
that Ipres might be surrendered to the Dutch, if
they would consent to come into the suspension.
France absolutely refused the latter; and the States
General having acted in perpetual contradiction to
her majesty, she pressed that matter no further, be-
cause she doubted they would not agree to a cessa-
tion of arms. However, she resolved to put a
speedy end or at least intermission to her own share
in the war: and the French having declared them-
selves ready to agree to her expedients for prevent-
ing the union of the two crowns, and consented to
the delivery of Dunkirk, positive orders were sent
to the duke of Ormond to avoid engaging in any
battle or siege until he had further instructions; but
he was directed to conceal his orders, and to find
the best excuses he could if any pressing occasion
should offer.
The reasons for this unusual proceeding, which
made a mighty noise, were of sufficient weight to
justify it; for pursuant to the agreement madè be-
tween us and France, a courier was then despatched
from Fontainbleau to Madrid with the offer of an
alternative to Philip, either of resigning Spain im-
mediately to the duke of Savoy, upon the hopes of
succeeding to France, and some present advantage,
which not having been accepted is needless to dilate
on; or of adhering to Spain, and renouncing all
future claim to France for himself and his posterity.
Until it could be known which part Philip would
accept, the queen would not take possession of
Dunkirk, nor suffer an armistice to be declared.
But, however, since the most christian king had
agreed that his grandson should be forced in case of
a refusal to make his choice immediately, her ma-
jesty could not endure to think that perhaps some
thousands of lives of her own subjects and allies
might be sacrificed without necessity, if an occasion
should be found or sought for fighting a battle;
which she very well knew prince Eugene would
eagerly attempt, and put all into confusion, to gratify
his own ambition, the enmity of his new masters
the Dutch, and the rage of his court.
But the duke of Ormond, who, with every other
quality that can accomplish or adorn a great man,
inherits all the valour and loyalty of his ancestors,
found it very difficult to acquit himself of his com-
mission; for prince Eugene and all the field-depu-
ties of the States had begun already to talk either of
attacking the enemy or besieging Quesnoy; the con-
federate army being now all joined by the troops
they expected. And accordingly, about three days
after the duke had received those orders from court,
it was proposed to his grace at a meeting with the
prince and deputies "That the French army should
be attacked, their camp having been viewed, and a
great opportunity offering to do it with success; for
the Mareschal de Villars, who had notice sent him
by Mons. de Torcy of what was passing, and had
signified the same by a trumpet to the duke, showed
less vigilance than was usual to that general; taking
no precautions to secure his camp or observe the
motions of the allies, probably on purpose to pro-
voke them.” The duke said, "That the earl of
Strafford's sudden departure for England made him
believe there was something of consequence now
transacting, which would be known in four or five
days; and therefore desired they would defer this
or any other undertaking until he could receive
fresh letters from England." Whereupon the prince
and deputies immediately told the duke "That they
looked for such an answer as he had given them.
that they had suspected our measures for some
time; and their suspicions were confirmed by the
express his grace had so lately received, as well as
by the negligence of Mons. Villars." They appeared
extremely dissatisfied, and the deputies told the
duke "That they would immediately send an ac-
count of his answer to their masters:" which they
accordingly did; and soon after, by order from the
States, wrote him an expostulating letter in a style
less respectful than became them; desiring him
among other things to explain himself, whether he
had positive orders not to fight the French; and
afterwards told him, "They were sure he had such
orders, otherwise he could not answer what he had
done." But the duke still waived the question, say-
ing, " He would be glad to have letters from Eng-
land before he entered upon action; and that he
expected them daily.”
Upon this incident the ministers and generals of
the allies immediately took the alarm, vented their
fury in violent expressions against the queen and
those she employed in her councils; said "They
were betrayed by Britain ;" and assumed the coun-
tenance of those who think they have received an
injury, and are disposed to return it.
The duke of Ormond's army consisted of 18,000
of her majesty's subjects, and about 30,000 hired
from other princes, either wholly by the queen, or
jointly by her and the States.
by her and the States. The duke imme.
diately informed the court of the dispositions he
found among the foreign generals upon this occa-
sion; and that upon an exigency he could only
depend on the British troops adhering to him; those
of Hanover having already determined to desert to
the Dutch, and tempted the Danes to do the like; and
that he had reason to suppose the same of the rest."
Upon the news arriving at Utrecht that the duke
of Ormond had refused to engage in any action.
against the enemy, the Dutch ministers there went
immediately to make their complaints to the lord
privy seal; aggravating the strangeness of this pro-
ceeding, together with the consequence of it, in the
loss of a most favourable opportunity of ruining the
French army, and the discontent it must needs
create in the whole body of the confederates; add-
ing "How hard it was that they should be kept in
the dark, and have no communication of what was
done in a point which so nearly concerned them."
They concluded "That the duke must needs have
acted by orders;" and desired his lordship to write
both to court and to his grace what they had now said.
The bishop answered "That he knew nothing of
this fact but what they had told him; and therefore
was not prepared with a reply to their representa-
tions: only in general he would venture to say
that this case appeared very like the conduct of their
field-deputies upon former occasions: that if such
orders were given, they were certainly built upon
very justifiable foundations; and would soon be so
explained as to convince the States and all the
world that the common interest would be better
provided for another way than by a battle or siege:
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
479
that the want of communication which they com-
plained of could not make the States so uneasy as
their declining to receive it had made the queen,
who had used her utmost endeavours to persuade
them to concur with her in concerting every step
toward a general peace, and settling such a plan as
both sides might approve and adhere to; but to this
day the States had not thought fit to accept those
offers, or to authorise any of their ministers to treat
with her majesty's plenipotentiaries upon that af-
fair, although they had been pressed to it ever since
the negotiation began: that his lordship, to show
that he did not speak his private sense alone, took
this opportunity to execute the orders he had re-
ceived the evening before, by declaring to them that
all her majesty's offers for adjusting the differences
between her and the States were founded upon this
express condition,-That they should come imme-
diately into the queen's measures, and act openly
and sincerely with her; and that from their conduct
so directly contrary she now looked upon herself to
be under no obligation to them."
Monsieur Buys and his colleagues were stunned
with this declaration, made to them at a time when
they pretended to think the right of complaining to
be on their side, and had come to the bishop upon
that errand. But after their surprise was abated,
and Buys' long reasonings at an end, they began to
think how matters might be retrieved, and were of
opinion that the States should immediately despatch
a minister to England, unless his lordship were em-
powered to treat with them, which without new
commands he said he was not. They afterwards
desired to know of the bishop what the meaning
was of the last words in his declaration, "That her
majesty looked upon herself to be under no obli-
gation to them." He told them his opinion, "That
as the queen was bound by treaty to concert with
the States the conditions of a peace, so upon their
declining the concert so frequently offered she was
acquitted of that obligation; but that he verily be-
lieved, whatever measures her majesty should take,
she would always have a friendly regard to the in-
terest of their commonwealth; and that, as their
unkindness had been very unexpected and disagree-
able to her majesty, so their compliance would be
equally pleasing."
I have been the more circumstantial in relating
this affair because it furnished abundance of dis-
course, and gave rise to many wild conjectures and
misrepresentations, as well here as in Holland, es-
pecially that part which concerned the duke of Or-
mond; for the angry faction in the house of com-
mons, upon the first intelligence that the duke had
declined to act offensively against France in con-
currence with the allies, moved for an address
wherein the queen should be informed of" the deep
concern of her commons for the dangerous conse-
quences to the common cause which must arise from
this proceeding of her general; and to beseech her
that speedy instructions might be given to the
duke to prosecute the war with vigour in order to
quiet the minds of her people," &c. But a great
majority was against this motion, and a resolution.
drawn up and presented to the queen by the whole
house of a quite contrary tenor: "That they had an
entire confidence in her majesty's most gracious pro-
mise to communicate to her parliament the terms of
the peace before the same should be concluded;
and that they would support her majesty in obtain-
ing an honourable and safe peace against all such
persons, either at home or abroad, who have endea-
voured or shall endeavour to obstruct the same."
The courier sent with the alternative to Spain
was now returned, with an account that Philip had
chosen to renounce France for himself and his pos-
terity; whereof the queen having received notice,
her majesty, upon the 6th of June, in a long speech
to both houses of parliament, laid before them the
terms of a general peace stipulated between her and
France. This speech being the plan whereby both
France and the allies have been obliged to proceed
in the subsequent course of the treaty, I shall desire
the reader's leave to insert it at length, although I
believe it has been already in most hands:
"MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN,-The making of
peace and war is the undoubted prerogative of the
crown. Yet such is the just confidence I place in
you, that, at the opening of this session, I acquainted
you that a negotiation for a general peace was begun;
and afterwards, by messages, I promised to commu-
nicate to you the terms of peace before the same
should be concluded.
"In pursuance of that promise I now come to let
you know upon what terms a general peace may be
made.
"I need not mention the difficulties which arise
from the very nature of this affair; and it is but too
apparent that these difficulties have been increased
by other obstructions artfully contrived to hinder
this great and good work.
my
Nothing however has moved me from steadily
pursuing, in the first place, the true interests of
own kingdoms; and I have not omitted anything
which might procure to all our allies what is due to
them by treaties, and what is necessary for their
security.
"The assuring of the protestant succession, as by
law established, in the house of Hanover to these
kingdoms, being what I have nearest at heart, par-
ticular care is taken, not only to have that acknow-
ledged in the strongest terms, but to have an addi-
tional security by the removal of that person out of
the dominions of France who has pretended to dis-
turb this settlement.
"The apprehension that Spain and the West
Indies might be united to France was the chief in-
ducement to begin this war; and the effectual pre-
venting of such a union was the principle I laid
down at the commencement of this treaty. Former
examples and the late negotiations sufficiently show
how difficult it is to find means to accomplish this
work. I would not content myself with such as are
speculative or depend on treaties only; I insisted
on what was solid, and to have at hand the power
of executing what should be agreed.
"I can therefore now tell you that France at last.
is brought to offer that the duke of Anjou shall for
himself and his descendants renounce for ever all
claim to the crown of France; and that this im-
portant article may be exposed to no hazard, the
performance is to accompany the promise.
"At the same time the succession to the crown
of France is to be declared, after the death of the
present dauphin and his sons, to be in the duke of
Berry and his sons, and the duke of Orleans and
his sons, and so on to the rest of the house of
Bourbon.
"As to Spain and the Indies, the succession to
those dominions, after the duke of Anjou and his
children, is to descend to such prince as shall be
agreed upon at the treaty; for ever excluding the
rest of the house of Bourbon.
"For confirming the renunciations and settle-
ments before mentioned, it is further offered that
they should be ratified in the most strong and
solemn manner both in France and Spain; and
that those kingdoms, as well as all the other powers
480
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
engaged in the present war, shall be guarantees to
the same.
"The nature of this proposal is such that it ex-
ecutes itself: the interest of Spain is to support it;
and in France, the persons to whom that succession
is to belong will be ready and powerful enough to
vindicate their own right.
"France and Spain are now more effectually di-
vided than ever. And thus, by the blessing of God,
will a real balance of power be fixed in Europe, and
remain liable to as few accidents as human affairs
can be exempted from.
"A treaty of commerce between these kingdoms
and France has been entered upon; but the exces-
sive duties laid on some goods, and the prohibition
of others, make it impossible to finish this work so
soon as were to be desired. Care is however
taken to establish a method of settling this matter;
and in the mean time provision is made that the
same privileges and advantages as shall be granted
to any other nation by France shall be granted in
like manner to us.
"The division of the island of St. Christopher be-
tween us and the French having been the cause of
great inconveniency and damage to my subjects, I
have demanded to have an absolute cession made to
me of that whole island; and France agrees to this
demand.
"Our interest is so deeply concerned in the trade
of North America that I have used my utmost en-
deavours to adjust that article in the most beneficial
inanner. France consents to restore to us the whole
bay and straits of Hudson; to deliver up the island
of Newfoundland, with Placentia; and to make an
absolute cession of Annapolis, with the rest of Nova
Scotia or Arcadie.
"The safety of our home trade will be better pro-
vided for by the demolition of Dunkirk.
"Our Mediterranean trade, and the British in-
terest and influence in those parts, will be secure by
the possession of Gibraltar and Port Mahon, with
the whole island of Minorca, which are offered to
remain in my hands.
"The trade to Spain and to the West Indies may
in general be settled as it was in the time of the
late king of Spain, Charles II.; and a particular
provision be made that all advantages, rights, or pri-
vileges which have been granted, or which may here-
after be granted by Spain to any other nation, shall
be in like manner granted to the subjects of Great
Britain.
"But the part which we have borne in the prose-
cution of this war entitling us to some distinction
in the terms of peace, I have insisted and obtained
that the assiento or contract for furnishing the
Spanish West Indies with negroes shall be made
with us for the term of thirty years, in the same
manner as has been enjoyed by the French for ten
years past.
"I have not taken upon me to determine the in-
terests of our confederates: these must be adjusted
in the congress at Utrecht; where my best endea-
vours shall be employed, as they have hitherto con-
stantly been, to procure to every one of them all
just and reasonable satisfaction. In the mean time,
I think it proper to acquaint you that France offers
to make the Rhine the barrier of the empire; to yield
Brisac, the fort of Kehl and Landau; and to raze
all the fortresses both on the other side of the Rhine
and in that river.
"As to the protestant interest in Germany, there
will be, on the part of France, no objection to the
resettling thereof on the foot of the treaty of West-
phalia
"The Spanish Low Countries may go to his im-
perial majesty: the kingdoms of Naples and Sardinia,
the duchy of Milan, and the places belonging to
Spain on the coast of Tuscany, may likewise be
yielded by the treaty of peace to the emperor.
"As to the kingdom of Sicily, though there re-
mains no dispute concerning the cession of it by the
duke of Anjou, yet the disposition thereof is not yet
determined.
"The interests of the States General with respect
to commerce are agreed to as they have been de-
manded by their own ministers, with the exception
only of some very few species of merchandise; and
the entire barrier as demanded by the States in 1709
from France, except two or three places at most.
"As to these exceptions, several expedients are pro-
posed: and I make no doubt but this barrier may be
so settled as to render that republic perfectly secure
against any enterprise on the part of France; which
is the foundation of all my engagements upon this
head with the States.
"The demands of Portugal depending on the dis-
position of Spain, and that article having been long
in dispute, it has not been yet possible to make any
considerable progress therein but my plenipoten-
tiaries will now have an opportunity to assist that
king in his pretensions.
"Those of the king of Prussia are such as I hope
will admit of little difficulty on the part of France;
and my utmost endeavours shall not be wanting to
procure all I am able to so good an ally.
"The difference between the barrier demanded
for the duke of Savoy in 1709 and the offers now
made by France is very inconsiderable: but that
prince having so signally distinguished himself in the
service of the common cause, I am endeavouring to
procure for him still further advantages.
"France has consented that the elector Palatine
shall continue his present rank among the electors,
and remain in possession of the Upper Palatinate.
"The electoral dignity is likewise acknowledged
in the house of Hanover, according to the article in-
serted, at that prince's desire, in my demands.
"And as to the rest of the allies, I make no doubt
of being able to secure their several interests.
"MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN,
I have now
communicated to you not only the terms of peace
which may by the future treaty be obtained for my
own subjects, but likewise the proposals of France
for satisfying our allies.
"The former are such as I have reason to expect
to make my people some amends for that great and
unequal burden which they have lain under through
the whole course of this war; and I am willing to
hope that none of our confederates, and especially
those to whom so great accessions of dominion and
power are to accrue by this peace, will envy Britain
her share in the glory and advantage of it.
"The latter are not so perfectly adjusted as a little
more time might have rendered them; but the season
of the year making it necessary to put an end to this
session, I resolved no longer to defer communicating
these matters to you.
"I can make no doubt but you are all fully per-
suaded that nothing will be neglected on my part, in
the progress of this negotiation, to bring the peace to
a happy and speedy issue; and I depend on your
entire confidence in me and your cheerful concur-
rence with me."
The discontented party in the house of commons,
finding the torrent against them not to be stemmed,
suspended their opposition; by which means an
address was voted, nemine contradicente, to acknow-
ledge her majesty's condescension, to express their
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
481
satisfaction in what she had already done, and to
desire she would please to proceed with the present
negotiations for obtaining a speedy peace.
During these transactions at home the duke of
Ormond was in a very uneasy situation at the army,
employed in practising those arts which perhaps are
fitter for a subtle negotiator than a great conimander.
But as he had always proved his obedience where
courage or conduct could be of use, so the duty he
professed to his prince made him submit to continue
in a state of inactivity at the head of his troops,
however contrary to his nature, if it were for her
majesty's service. He had sent early notice to the
ministers, "that he could not depend upon the foreign
forces in the queen's pay;" and he now found some
attempts were already begun to seduce them.
While the courier was expected from Madrid, the
duke had orders to inform the mareschal de Villars
of the true state of this affair, and "that his grace
would have decisive orders in three or four days."
In the mean time he desired the mareschal would
not oblige him to come to any action, either to
defend himself or to join with prince Eugene's army,
which he must necessarily do if the prince were
attacked.
When the courier was arrived with the account
that Philip had chosen to accept of Spain, her majesty
had proposed to France a suspension of arms for two
months (to be prolonged to three or four) between
the armies now in Flanders, upon the following con-
ditions:
"That during the suspension endeavours should
be used for concluding a general peace or at least
the article for preventing the union of France and
Spain should be punctually executed, by Philip's re-
nouncing France for himself and his posterity, and
the princes of Bourbon in like manner renouncing
Spain and that the town, citadel, and forts of
Dunkirk should be immediately delivered into the
queen's hands.”
Her majesty, at the same time,
endeavoured to get Cambray for the Dutch, provided
they would come into the suspension. But this was
absolutely rejected by France; which that court
never would have ventured to do if those allies
could have been prevailed on to have acted with
sincerity and openness, in concert with her majesty,
as her plenipotentiaries had always desired.
ever, the queen promised "that if the States would
yield to a suspension of arms, they should have some
valuable pledge put into their possession."
How-
But now fresh intelligence daily arrived, both from
Utrecht and the army, of attempts to make the troops
in her majesty's pay desert her service; and a design
even of seizing the British forces was whispered about
and with reason suspected.
When the queen's speech was published in Hol-
land, the lord privy seal told the Dutch ministers at
Utrecht "that what her majesty had laid before her
parliament could not, according to the rules of treaty,
be looked on as the utmost of what France would
yield in the course of a negotiation, but only the
utmost of what that crown would propose in order
to form the plan of a peace: that these conditions
would certainly have been better, if the States had
thought fit to have gone hand in hand with her
majesty, as she had so frequently exhorted them to
do: that nothing but the want of harmony among the
allies had spirited the French to stand out so long:
that the queen would do them all the good offices
in her power, if they thought fit to comply; and did
not doubt of getting them reasonable satisfaction,
both in relation to their barrier and their trade."
But this reasoning made no impression. The Dutch
ministers said, "the queen's speech had deprived
VOL. I
They were in pain
them of the fruits of the war.
lest Lisle and Tournay might be two of the towns
to be excepted out of their barrier. The rest of the
allies grew angry, by the example of the Dutch.
The populace in Holland began to be inflamed: they
publicly talked "that Britain had betrayed them."
Sermons were preached in several towns of their
provinces, whether by direction or connivance, filled
with the highest instances of disrespect to her Bri-
tannic majesty, whom they charged as a papist and
an enemy to their country. The lord privy seal
himself believed something extraordinary was ir
agitation, and that his own person was in danger from
the fury of the people.
It is certain that the States appeared, but a few
days before, very much disposed to comply with
the measures the queen had taken; and would
have consented to a general armistice, if count Zin-
zendorf, one of the plenipotentiaries for the em-
peror, had not by direct orders from his court em-
ployed himself in sowing jealousies between Britain
and the States; and at the same time made prodigi-
ous offers to the latter, as well as to the ministers of
Prussia, the Palatinate, and Hanover, for continuing
the war.
That those three electors, who contri-
buted nothing except bodies of men in return.
of pay and subsidies, should readily accept the
proposals of the emperor is easy to be accounted
for. What appears hardly credible is that a grave
republic, usually cautious enough in making their
bargains, should venture to reject the thoughts of a
peace upon the promises of the house of Austria, the
little validity whereof they had so long experienced;
and especially when the counted upon losing the
support of Britain, their most powerful ally: but the
false hopes given them by their friends in England,
of some new change in their favour, or an imagina-
tion of bringing France to better terms by the
appearance of resolution, added to the weakness or
corruption of some who administered their affairs,
were the true causes which first created and after-
wards inflamed this untractable temper among
them.
The Dutch ministers were wholly disconcerted
and surprised when the lord privy seal told them
"that a suspension of arms in the Netherlands
would be necessary; and the duke of Ormond in-
tended very soon to declare it, after he had taken
possession of Dunkirk." But his lordship endea-
voured to convince them that this incident ought
rather to be a motive for hastening the States into a
compliance with her majesty. He likewise communi-
cated to the ministers of the allies the offers made by
France, as delivered in the speech from the throne,
which her majesty thought to be satisfactory; and
hoped "their masters would concur with her in
bringing the peace to a speedy conclusion, wherein
each in particular might be assured of her best offices
for advancing their just pretensions.”
In the mean time the duke of Ormond was directed
to send a body of troops to take possession of Dun-
kirk as soon as he should have notice from the
mareschal de Villars that the commandant of the
town had received orders from his court to deliver it.
But the duke foresaw many difficulties in the exe-
cuting of this commission. He could trust such an
enterprise to no forces except those of her majesty's
own subjects. He considered the temper of the
States in this conjuncture, and was loth to divide a
small body of men upon whose faithfulness alone he
could depend. He thought
could depend. He thought it not prudent to expose
them to march through the enemy's country, with
whom there was yet neither peace nor truce; and
he had sufficient reasons to apprehend that the Dutch
2 I
482
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
would either not permit such a detachment to pass
through their towns (as themselves had more than
hinted to him), or would seize them as they passed:
besides, the duke had fairly signified to mareschal
de Villars, "That he expected to be deserted by all
the foreign troops in her majesty's pay as soon as the
armistice should be declared;" at which the mare-
schal, appearing extremely disappointed, said, "the
king his master reckoned that all the troops under
his grace's command should yield to the cessation;
and wondered how it should come to pass that those
who might be paid for lying still would rather choose,
after a ten years' war, to enter into the service of new
masters, under whom they must fight on for nothing."
In short, the opinion of Mons. Villars was,
"that
this difficulty cancelled the promise of surrendering
Dunkirk;" which therefore he opposed as much as
possible in the letters he writ to his court.
Upon the duke of Ormond's representing those
difficulties the queen altered her measures, and or-
dered forces to be sent from England to take posses-
sion of Dunkirk. The duke was likewise com-
manded to tell the foreign generals in her majesty's
service how highly she would resent their desertion;
after which their masters must give up all thoughts
of any arrears, either of pay or subsidy. The lord
privy seal spoke the same language at Utrecht, to
the several ministers of the allies, as Mr. secretary
St. John did to those who resided here; adding,
"That the proceeding of the foreign troops would
be looked upon as a declaration for or against her
majesty; and that in case they desert her service she
would look on herself as justified before God and
man to continue her negotiation at Utrecht or any
other place, whether the allies concur or not." And
particularly the Dutch were assured, "That if their
masters seduced the forces hired by the queen, they
must take the whole pay, arrears, and subsidies on
themselves."
The earl of Strafford, preparing about this time to
return to Utrecht, with instructions proper to the
present situation of affairs, went first to the army,
and there informed the duke of Ormond of her ma-
jesty's intentions. He also acquainted the States'
deputies with the queen's uneasiness, lest by the
measures they were taking they should drive her to
extremities, which she desired so much to avoid.
He further represented to them, in the plainest
terms, the provocations her majesty had received
and the grounds and reasons for her present conduct.
He likewise declared to the commanders-in-chief of
the foreign troops in the queen's pay, and in the
joint pay of Britain and the States, "with how much
surprise her majesty had heard that there was the
least doubt of their obeying the orders of the duke
of Ormond, which if they refused her majesty would
esteem it not only as an indignity and affront, but
as a declaration against her; and in such a case they
must look on themselves as no further entitled either
to any arrear or future pay or subsidies."
Six regiments, under the command of Mr. Hill,
were now preparing to embark in order to take
possession of Dunkirk; and the duke of Ormond,
upon the first intelligence sent him that the French
were ready to deliver the town, was to declare, "He
could act no longer against France." The queen
gave notice immediately of her proceedings to the
States. She let them plainly know "That their
perpetual caballing with her factious subjects against
her authority had forced her into such measures as
otherwise she would not have engaged in. How-
ever her majesty was willing yet to forget all that
had passed and to unite with them in the strictest
ties of amity, which she hoped they would now do;
since they could not but be convinced, by the late
dutiful addresses of both houses, how far their high
mightinesses had been deluded and drawn in as in-
struments to serve the turn and gratify the passions
of a lisaffected party: that their opposition and
want of concert with her majesty's ministers, which
she had so often invited them to, had encouraged
France to except towns out of their barrier which
otherwise might have been yielded: that however
she had not precluded them, or any other ally, from
demanding more; and even her own terms were but
conditional, upon a supposition of a general peace to
ensue that her majesty resolved to act upon the
plan laid down in her speech." And she repeated
the promise of her best offices to promote the interest
of the States, if they would deal sincerely with her.
Some days before the duke of Ormond had notice
that orders were given for the surrender of Dunkirk,
prince Eugene of Savoy sent for the generals of the
allies, and asked them severally, "Whether, in case
the armies separated, they would march with him or
stay with the duke?" All of them, except two who
commanded but small bodies, agreed to join with
the prince; who thereupon about three days after
sent the duke word "That he intended to march
the following day" (as it was supposed to besiege
Landrecy). The duke returned an answer, "That
he was surprised at the prince's message, there hav-
ing been not the least previous concert with him,
nor any mention in the message which way or upon
what design the march was intended; therefore that
the duke could not resolve to march with him, much
less could the prince expect assistance from the
queen's army in any design undertaken after this
manner." The duke told this beforehand, that he
(the prince) might take his measures accordingly,
and not attribute to her majesty's general any mis-
fortune that might happen.
On the 16th of July, N. S., the several generals of
the allies joined prince Eugene's army and began
their march, after taking leave of the duke and the
earl of Strafford, whose expostulations could not pre-
vail on them to stay, although the latter assured
them "That the queen had made neither peace nor
truce with France; and that her forces would now
be left exposed to the enemy."
The next day after this famous desertion the duke
of Ormond received a letter from Mons. de Villars,
with an account that the town and citadel of Dun-
kirk should be delivered to Mr. Hill. Whereupon
a cessation of arms was declared, by sound of trum-
pet at the head of the British army, which now
consisted only of about eighteen thousand men, all
of her majesty's subjects except the Holsteiners and
count Wallis's dragoons. With this small body of
men the general began his march, and pursuant to
orders from court retired toward the sea in the man-
ner he thought most convenient for the queen's ser-
vice. When he came as far as Flines he was told
by some of his officers "That the commandants of
Bouchain, Douay, Lisle, and Tournay, had refused
them passage through those towns, or even liberty of
entrance; and said it was by order of their masters."
The duke immediately recollected that when the de-
puties first heard of this resolution to withdraw his
troops they told him "They hoped he did not in-
tend to march through any of their towns.” This
made him conclude that the orders must be general,
and that his army would certainly meet with the
same treatment which his officers had done.
had likewise before the armies separated received
information of some designs that concerned the
safety, or at least the freedom, of his own person,
and (which he much more valued) that of those few
He
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
483
British troops intrusted to his care. No general
was ever more truly or deservedly beloved by his
soldiers, who to a man were prepared to sacrifice
their lives in his service, and whose resentments
were raised to the utmost by the ingratitude, as they
termed it, of their deserters.
Upon these provocations he laid aside all thoughts
of returning to Dunkirk, and began to consider how
he might perform in so difficult a conjuncture some-
thing important to the queen, and at the same time
find a secure retreat for his forces. He formed his
plan without communicating it to any person what-
soever; and the disposition of the army being to
march toward Warneton, in the way to Dunkirk, he
gave sudden orders to lieutenant-general Cadogan
to change his route (according to the military phrase)
and move toward Orchies, a town leading directly
to Ghent.
When prince Eugene and the States deputies re-
ceived news of the duke's motions, they were
alarmed to the utmost degree; and sent count Nas-
sau, of Wordenberg, to the general's camp near Or-
chies, to excuse what had been done, and to assure
his grace "That those commandants who had re-
fused passage to his officers had acted wholly with-
out orders." Count Hompesch, one of the Dutch
generals, came likewise to the duke with the same
story, but all this made little impression on the
general, who held on his march; and on the 23rd
of July, N. S., entered Ghent, where he was received
with great submission by the inhabitants, and took
possession of the town, as he likewise did of Bruges
a few days after.
The
The duke of Ormond thought that, considering the
present disposition of the States toward Britain, it
might be necessary for the queen to have some pledge
from that republic in her hands as well as from
France; by which means her majesty would be em-
powered to act the part that, best became her, of be-
ing mediator at least; and that, while Ghent was in
the queen's hands, no provisions could pass the
Scheldt or the Lis without her permission, by which
he had it in his power to starve their army. The
possession of these towns might likewise teach
the Dutch and Imperialists to preserve a degree
of decency and civility to her majesty which both
of them were, upon some occasions, too apt to
forget: and besides, there was already in the town
of Ghent a battalion of British troops, and a detach-
ment of five hundred men in the citadel, together
with a great quantity of ammunition stores for the
service of the war, which would certainly have been
seized or embezzled: so that no service could be
more seasonable or useful in the present juncture
than this; which the queen highly approved, and left
the duke a discretionary power to act as he thought
fit on any future emergency.
I have a little interrupted the order of time in re-
lating the duke of Ormond's proceedings, who, after
having placed a garrison at Bruges and sent a supply
of men and ammunition to Dunkirk, retired to
Ghent, where he continued some months, till he had
leave to return to England.
Upon the arrival of colonel Disney at court, with
an account that Mr. Hill had taken possession of
Dunkirk, a universal joy spread over the kingdom;
this event being looked on as the certain forerunner
of a peace besides, the French faith was in so ill a
reputation among us, that many persons otherwise
sanguine enough could never bring themselves to
believe that the town would be delivered, till certain
intelligence came that it was actually in our hands.
Neither were the ministers themselves altogether at
ease or free from suspicion, whatever countenance
they made: for they knew very well that the French
king had many plausible reasons to elude his promise,
if he found cause to repent it; one condition of sur-
rendering Dunkirk being a general armistice of all
the troops in the British pay, which her majesty was
not able to perform; and upon this failure the
mareschal de Villars (as we have before related)
endeavoured to dissuade his court from accepting the
conditions; and in the very interval while those dif-
ficulties were adjusting, the mareschal d'Uxelles,
one of the French plenipotentiaries at Utrecht
(whose inclinations, as well as those of his colleague
Mons. Mesnager, led him to favour the States more
than Britain), assured the lord privy seal, "That the
Dutch were then pressing to enter into separate
measures with his master." And his lordship, in a
visit to abbé de Polignac, observing a person to with-
draw as be entered the abbé's chamber, was told by
this minister "That the person he saw was one
Moleau of Amsterdam (mentioned before), a famous
agent for the States with France, who had been en-
tertaining him (the abbé) upon the same subject;
but that he had refused to treat with Moleau with-
out the privity of England."
There was
Mr. Harley, whom we mentioned above to have
been sent early in the spring to Utrecht, continued
longer in Holland than was at first expected, but
having received her majesty's further instructions
was about this time arrived at Hanover. It was the
misfortune of his electoral highness to be very ill
served by Mons. Bothmar, his envoy here, who as-
sisted at all the factious meetings of the discontented
party, and deceived his master by a false representa-
tion of the kingdom, drawn from the opinion of those
to whom he confined his conversation.
likewise at the elector's court a little Frenchman,
without any merit or consequence, called Robethon,
who by the assistance and encouragement of the last
ministry had insinuated himself into some degree of
that prince's favour, which he used in giving his
master the worst impressions he was able of those
whom the queen employed in her service; insinuat-
ing "That the present ministers were not in the
interest of his highness's family; that their views
were toward the pretender; that they were making
an insecure and dishonourable peace; that the weight
of the nation was against them; and that it was im-
possible for them to preserve much longer their
credit or power."
The earl Rivers had, in the foregoing year, been
sent to Hanover, in order to undeceive the elector
and remove whatever prejudices might be infused
into his highness against her majesty's proceedings;
but it should seem that he had no very great success
in his negotiation; for soon after his return to Eng-
land Mons. Bothmar's memorial appeared, in the
manner I have already related, which discovered the
sentiments of his electoral highness (if they were
truly represented in that memorial) to differ not a
little from those of the queen. Mr. Harley was
therefore directed to take the first opportunity of
speaking to the elector in private; to assure him
"That, although her majesty had thought herself
justly provoked by the conduct of his minister, yet
such was her affection for his highness and concern
for the interests of his family, that instead of show-
ing the least mark of resentment she had chosen to
send him (Mr. Harley) fully instructed to open her
designs and show his highness the real interest of
Britain in the present conjuncture." Mr. Harley
was to give the elector a true account of what had
passed in England during the first part of this ses--
sion of parliament; to expose to his highness the
weakness of those with whom his minister had con-
212
484
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
sulted and under whose directions he had acted ; to
convince him how much lower that faction must
become when a peace should be concluded, and
when the natural strength of the kingdom, disen-
cumbered from the burden of war, should be at
liberty to exert itself; to show him how his interest
in the succession was sacrificed to that of a party:
"that his highness had been hitherto a friend to both
sides, but that the measures taken by his ministers
had tended only to set him at the head of one, in
opposition to the other" to explain to the elector
how fully the safety of Europe was provided for by
the plan of peace in her majesty's speech; and how
little reason those would appear to have who com-
plained the loudest of this plan, if it were compared
either with our engagements to them when we began
the war, or with their performances in the course of it.
Upon this occasion, Mr. Harley was to observe to
the elector "That it should rather be wondered at
how the queen had brought France to offer so much
than yet to offer no more: because, as soon as ever
it appeared that her majesty would be at the head of
this treaty and that the interests of Britain were to
be provided for, such endeavours were used to break
off the negotiation as are hardly to be paralleled;
and the disunion thereby created among the allies
had given more opportunities to the enemy of being
slow in their concessions than any other measures
might possibly have done: that this want of concert
among the allies could not in any sort be imputed to
the queen, who had all along invited them to it with
the greatest earnestness, as the surest means to bring
France to reason: that she had always in a parti-
cular manner pressed the States General to come
into the strictest union with her, and opened to them
her intentions with the greatest freedom; but find-
ing that, instead of concurring with her majesty,
they were daily carrying on intrigues to break off
the negotiation, and thereby deprive her of the ad-
vantages she might justly expect from the ensuing
peace, having no other way left she was forced to
act with France as she did by herself: that how-
ever the queen had not taken upon herself to deter-
mine the interests of the allies, who were at liberty
of insisting on further pretensions; wherein her
majesty would not be wanting to support them as
far as she was able, and improve the concessions
already made by France; in which case, a good un-
derstanding and harmony among the confederates
would yet be of the greatest use for making the
enemy more tractable and easy."
|
|
from it was grounded upon a great mistake. I have
been assured by several persons of our own country,
and some foreigners of the first rank both for skill
and station in arms, that in most victories obtained
in the present war the British troops were ever em-
ployed in the post of danger and honour, and usually
began the attack (being allowed to be naturally more
fearless than the people of any other country), by
which they were not only an example of courage to
the rest, but must be acknowledged without par-
tiality to have governed the fortune of the day, since
it is known enough how small a part of an army is
generally engaged in any battle. It may likewise be
added that nothing is of greater moment in war than
opinion. The French, by their frequent losses,
which they chiefly attributed to the courage of our
men, believed that a British general at the head of
British troops was not to be overcome, and the ma-
reschal de Villars was quickly sensible of the ad-
vantage he had got, for in a very few days after the
desertion of the allies happened the earl of Albe-
marle's disgrace at Denain, by a feint of the mare-
schal's and a manifest failure somewhere or other
both of courage and conduct on the side of the con-
federates, the blame of which was equally shared
between prince Eugene and the earl, although it is
certain the duke of Ormond gave the latter timely
warning of his danger, observing he was neither
intrenched as he ought, nor provided with bridges
sufficient for the situation he was in and at such a
distance from the main army.
The marquis de Torcy had likewise the same
sentiments of what mighty consequence those few
British battalions were to the confederate army,
since he advised his master to deliver up Dunkirk,
although the queen could not perform the condition
understood, which was a cessation of arms of all the
foreign forces in her pay.
It must be owned that Mons. de Torcy made great
merit of this confidence that his master placed in
the queen, and, observing her majesty's displeasure
against the Dutch on account of their late proceed-
ings, endeavoured to inflame it with aggravations
enough, insinuating "That, since the States had acted
so ungratefully, the queen should let her forces join
with those of France in order to compel the con-
federates to a peace." But although this overture
were very tenderly hinted from the French court, her
majesty heard it with the utmost abhorrence, and
ordered her secretary, Mr. St. John (created about
this time viscount Bolingbroke), to tell Mons. de
Torcy "That no provocations whatever should tempt
her to distress her allies, but she would endeavour
to bring them to reason by fair means or leave them
to their own conduct that if the former should be
found impracticable she would then make her own
peace, and content herself with doing the office of a
mediator between both parties; but if the States
should at any time come to a better mind and suffer
their ministers to act in conjunction with hers, she
would assert their just interests to the utmost, and
make no further progress in any treaty with France
until those allies received all reasonable satisfaction
both as to their barrier and their trade." The
British plenipotentiaries were directed to give the
same assurances to the Dutch ministers at Utrecht,
and withal to let them know "That the queen was
determined,
The loss of 18,000 determined, by their late conduct, to make peace
either with or without them; but would much rather
choose the former.'
I have been more particular in reciting the sub-
stance of Mr. Harley's instructions, because it will
serve as a recapitulation of what I have already said
upon this subject, and seems to set her majesty's
intentions and proceedings at this time in the clearest
light.
After the cessation of arms declared by the duke
of Ormond upon the delivery of Dunkirk, the British
plenipotentiaries very earnestly pressed those of Hol-
land to come in to a general armistice, for if the whole
confederacy acted in conjunction this would certainly
be the best means for bringing the common enemy
to reasonable terms of peace; but the States, deluded
by the boundless promises of count Zinzendorf and
the undertaking talent of prince Eugene, who dreaded
the conclusion of the war as the period of his glory,
would not hear of a cessation. The loss of 18,000
Britons was not a diminution of weight in the balance
of such an ally as the emperor and such a general
as the prince. Besides, they looked upon themselves
to be still superior to France in the field, and al-
though their computation was certainly right in point
of number, yet in my opinion the conclusion drawn
"
:
There was however one advantage which her ma-
jesty resolved to make by this defection of her
foreigners. She had been led by the mistaken politics
of some years past to involve herself in several gua-
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
485
rantees with the princes of the north, which were
in some sort contradictory to one another; but this
conduct of theirs wholly annulled all such engage-
ments and left her at liberty to interpose in the
affairs of those parts of Europe in such a manner as
would best serve the interests of her own kingdoms
as well as that of the protestant religion, and settle
a due balance of power in the north.
The grand article for preventing the union of
France and Spain was to be executed during a ces-
sation of arms. But many difficulties arising about
that and some other points of great importance to
the common cause, which could not easily be adjusted
either between the French and British plenipoten-
tiaries at Utrecht, or by correspondence between
Mons. de Torcy and the ministry here, the queen
took the resolution of sending the lord viscount Bo-
lingbroke immediately to France, fully instructed in
all her intentions, and authorised to negotiate every-
thing necessary for settling the treaty of peace in
such a course as might bring it to a happy and
speedy conclusion. He was empowered to agree to
a general suspension of arms by sea and land, be-
tween Great Britain, France, and Spain, to continue
for four months or until the conclusion of the peace,
provided France and Spain would previously give
positive assurances to make good the terms de-
manded by her majesty for the duke of Savoy, and
would likewise adjust and determine the forms of
the several renunciations to be made by both those
crowns in order to prevent their being ever united.
The lord Bolingbroke was likewise authorised to
settle some differences relating to the elector of
Bavaria, for whose interests France was as much
concerned as her majesty was for those of the duke
of Savoy; to explain all doubtful articles which par-
ticularly related to the advantages of Britain; to
know the real ultimatum, as it is termed, of France
upon the general plan of peace; and lastly, to cut off
all hopes from that court of ever bringing the queen
to force her allies to a disadvantageous peace; her
majesty resolving to impose no scheme at all upon
them or to debar them from the liberty of endea-
vouring to obtain the best conditions they could.
The lord Bolingbroke went to France in the be-
ginning of August, was received at court with par-
ticular marks of distinction and respect, and in a
very few days, by his usual address and ability, per-
formed every part of his commission extremely to
the queen's content and his own honour. He re-
turned to England before the end of the month, but
Mr. Prior, who went along with him, was left behind
to adjust whatever differences might remain or arise
between the two crowns.
In the mean time the general conferences at
Utrecht, which for several weeks had been let fall
since the delivery of Dunkirk, were now resumed.
But the Dutch still declaring against a suspension of
arms and refusing to accept the queen's speech as
a plan to negotiate upon, there was no progress
made for some time in the great work of the peace.
Whereupon the British plenipotentiaries told those
of the States "That if the queen's endeavours could
not procure more than the contents of her speech,
or if the French should ever fall short of what was
there offered, the Dutch could blarne none but them-
selves, who by their conduct had rendered things
difficult that would otherwise have been easy."
However, her majesty thought it prudent to keep
the States still in hopes of her good offices, to pre-
vent them from taking the desperate course of leaving
themselves wholly at the mercy of France, which
was an expedient they formerly practised, and which
à party among them was now inclined to advise.
While the congress at Utrecht remained in this
inactive state the queen proceeded to perfect that
important article for preventing the union of France
and Spain. It was proposed and accepted that
Philip should renounce France for himself and his
posterity, and that the most christian king and all
the princes of his blood should in the like manner
renounce Spain.
It must be confessed that this project of renun-
ciation lay under a great disrepute by the former
practices of this very king Lewis XIV., pursuant to
an absurd notion among many in that kingdom of
a divine right annexed to proximity of blood not to
be controlled by any human law.
But it is plain the French themselves had recourse
to this method, after all their infractions of it, since
the Pyrenean treaty, for the first dauphin, in whom
the original claim was vested, renounced for him-
self and his eldest son, which opened the way to
Philip duke of Anjou, who would however hardly
have succeeded if it had not been for the will made
in his favour by the last king Charles II.
It is indeed hard to reflect with any patience upon
the unaccountable stupidity of the princes of Europe
for some centuries past, who left a probability to
France of succeeding in a few ages to all their do-
minions, while at the same time no alliance with
that kingdom could be of advantage to any prince
by reason of the salique law. Should not common
prudence have taught every sovereign in Christen-
dom to enact a salique law with respect to France?
for want of which it is almost a miracle that the
Bourbon family has not possessed the universal mo-
narchy by right of inheritance. When the French
assert that a proximity of blood gives a divine right,
as some of their ministers (who ought to be more
wise or honest), have lately advanced in this very
case to the title of Spain, do they not by allowing a
French succession make their own kings usurpers?
Or if the salique law be divine, is it not of universal
obligation, and consequently of force to exclude
France from inheriting by daughters? Or lastly, if
that law be of human institution, may it not be en-
acted in any state with whatever extent or limitation
the legislature shall think fit? for the notion of an
unchangeable human law is an absurdity in govern-
ment to be believed only by ignorance and sup-
ported by power. Hence it follows that the children
of the late queen of France, although she had re-
nounced, were as legally excluded from succeeding
to Spain as if the salique law had been fundamental
in that kingdom, since that exclusion was established
by every power in Spain which could possibly give
a sanction to any law there, and therefore the duke
of Anjou's title is wholly founded upon the bequest
of his predecessor (which has great authority in that
monarchy, as it formerly had in ours), upon the
confirmation of the cortes and the general consent
of the people.
It is certain the faith of princes is so frequently
subservient to their ambition that renunciations have
little validity otherwise than from the powers and
parties whose interest it is to support them. But
this renunciation which the queen has exacted from
the French king and his grandson I take to be
armed with all the essential circumstances that can
fortify such an act, for as it is necessary for the se-
curity of every prince in Europe that those two
great kingdoms should never be united, so the chief
among them will readily consent to be guarantees
for preventing such a misfortune.
Besides, this proposal (according to her majesty's
expression in her speech) is of such a nature that it
executes itself, because the Spaniards, who dread
486
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
such a union for every reason that can have weight
among men, took care that their king should not
only renounce in the most solemn manner, but
likewise that the act should be framed in the strongest
terms themselves could invent or we could furnish
them with. As to France, upon supposal of the
young dauphin's dying in a few years, that kingdom
will not be in a condition to engage in a long war
against a powerful alliance, fortified with the addi-
tion of the Spaniards and the party of the duke of
Berry, or whoever else shall be next claimer; and
the longer the present dauphin lives the weaker
must Philip's interest be in France, because the
princes who are to succeed by this renunciation will
have most power and credit in the kingdom.
The mischiefs occasioned by the want of a good
understanding between the allies, especially Britain
and Holland, were increased every day; the French
taking the advantage, and raising difficulties, not
only upon the general plan of peace, but likewise
upon the explanation of several articles in the pro-
jected treaty between them and her majesty. They
insisted to have Lisle, as the equivalent for Dun-
kirk; and demanded Tournay, Maubeuge, and
Condé, for the two or three towns mentioned in the
queen's speech, which the British plenipotentiaries
were so far from allowing that they refused to con-
fer with those of France upon that foot; although,
at the same time, the former had fresh apprehensions
that the Dutch in a fit of despair would accept
whatever terms the enemy pleased to offer, and by
precipitating their own peace prevent her majesty
from obtaining any advantages, both for her allies
and herself.
It is most certain that the repeated losses suffered
by the States, in little more than two months after
they had withdrawn themselves from the queen's as-
sistance, did wholly disconcert their counsels; and
their prudence (as it is usual) began to forsake them
with their good fortune. They were so weak as to
be still deluded by their friends in England, who
continued to give them hopes of some mighty and
immediate resource from hence; for when the duke
of Ormond had been about a month in Ghent he re-
war and backward in their loans; and lastly, that
prince Eugene, their new general, whether his
genius or fortune had left him, was not for their turn.
They therefore directed their ministers at Utrecht to
signify to the lord privy seal and the earl of Strafford
"That the States were disposed to comply with her
majesty, and to desire her good offices with France;
particularly, that Tournay and Condé might be left
to them as part of their barrier, without which they
could not be safe: That the elector of Bavaria might
not be suffered to retain any town in the Nether-
lands, which would be as bad for Holland as if those
places were in the hands of France: Therefore the
States proposed that Luxembourg, Namur, Charle-
roy, and Nieuport, might be delivered to the empe-
ror: Lastly, That the French might not insist on ex-
cepting the four species of goods out of the tariff of
1664: that if her majesty could prevail with France
to satisfy their masters on these articles, they would
be ready to submit in all the rest."
When the queen received an account of this good
disposition in the States General, immediately orders
were sent to Mr. Prior to inform the ministers of
the French court "That her majesty had now some
hopes of the Dutch complying with her measures;
and therefore she resolved, as she had always de-
clared, whenever those allies came to themselves, not
to make the peace without their reasonable satisfac-
tion." The difficulty that most pressed was about
the disposal of Tournay and Condé. The Dutch in-
sisted strongly to have both, and the French were
extremely unwilling to part with either.
The queen judged the former would suffice for
completing the barrier of the States.
Mr. Prior was
therefore directed to press the marquis de Torcy ef-
fectually on this head, and to terminate all that
minister's objections by assuring him of her majes-
ty's resolution to appear openly on the side of the
Dutch if this demand were refused. It was thought
convenient to act in this resolute manner with
France, whose late success against Holland had
taught the ministers of the most christian king to
resume their old imperious manner of treating with
that republic; to which they were further encour-
and the allies.
ceived a letter from the mareschal de Villars to in-aged by the ill understanding between her majesty
form him "That the Dutch generals taken at De-
nain had told the mareschal publicly of a sudden re-
volution expected in Britain; that particularly the
earl of Albemarle and Mons. Hompesch discoursed
very freely of it; and that nothing was more com-
monly talked of in Holland.” It was then likewise
confidently reported in Ghent that the queen was
dead; and we all remember what rumour flew about
here at the very same time as if her majesty's health
were in a bad condition.
Whether such vain hopes as these gave spirit to
the Dutch; whether their frequent misfortunes made
them angry and sullen; whether they still expected
to overreach us by some private stipulations with
France, through the mediation of the elector of Ba-
varia, as that prince afterwards gave out; or what-
ever else was the cause, they utterly refused a cessa-
tion of arms, and made not the least return to all the
advances and invitations made by her majesty until
the close of the campaign.
It was then the States first began to view their
affairs in another light; to consider how little the
vast promises of count Zinzendorf were to be relied
on; to be convinced that France was not disposed
to break with her majesty, only to gratify their ill
humour or unreasonable demands; to discover that
that their factious correspondents on this side the
water had shamefully misled them; that some of
their own principal towns grew heartily weary of the
|
This appeared from the result of an idle quarrel
that happened, about the end of July, at Utrecht,
between a French and a Dutch plenipotentiary,
Mons. Mesnager and count Rechteren; wherein the
court of France demanded such abject submissions
and with so much haughtiness as plainly showed
they were pleased with any occasion of mortifying
the Dutch.
Besides, the politics of the French ran at this time
very opposite to those of Britain. They thought the
ministers here durst not meet the parliament without
a peace; and that therefore her majesty would either
force the States to comply with France, by deliver-
ing up Tournay, which was the principal point in
dispute, or would finish her own peace with France
and Spain, leaving a fixed time for Holland to re-
fuse or accept the terms imposed on them. But the
queen, who thought the demand of Tournay by the
States to be very necessary and just, was determined
to insist upon it, and to declare openly against
France rather than suffer her ally to want a place so
useful for their barrier. And Mr. Prior was ordered
to signify this resolution of her majesty to Mons. de
Torcy, in case that minister could not be otherwise
prevailed on.
The British plenipotentiaries did likewise, at the
same time, express to those of Holland her majesty's
great satisfaction "That the States were at last dis-
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
487
posed to act in confidence with her: that she wished
this resolution had been sooner taken, since nobody
had gained by the delay but the French king: that
however her majesty did not question the procuring
of a safe and honourable peace, by united counsels,
reasonable demands, and prudent measures : that
she would assist them in getting whatever was ne-
cessary to their barrier, and in settling to their satis-
faction the exceptions made by France out of the
tariff of 1664: that no other difficulties remained of
moment to retard the peace, since the queen had ob-
tained Sardinia for the duke of Savoy; and in the
settlement of the Low Countries would adhere to
what she delivered from the throne: that as to the
empire, her majesty heartily wished their barrier as
good as could be desired; but that we were not
now in circumstances to expect everything exactly ac-
cording to the scheme of Holland: France had already
offered a great part, and the queen did not think the
remainder worth the continuance of the war."
Her majesty conceived the peace in so much for-
wardness, that she thought fit, about this time, to
nominate the duke Hamilton and the lord Lex-
ington for ambassadors in France and Spain, to re-
ceive the renunciations in both courts and adjust
matters of commerce.
The dukea was preparing for his journey when he
was challenged to a duel by the lord Mohun, a per-
son of infamous character. He killed his adversary
upon the spot, though he himself received a wound;
and weakened by the loss of blood, as he was lean-
ing in the arms of his second was most barbarously
stabbed in the breast by lieutenant-general Macart-
ney, who was second to lord Mohun. He died a
few minutes after in the field, and the murderer
made his escape. I thought so surprising an event
might deserve barely to be related, although it be
something foreign to my subject.
The earl of Strafford, who had come to England in
May last, in order to give her majesty an account of
the disposition of affairs in Holland, was now return-
ing with her last instructions to let the Dutch mi-
nister know "That some points would probably meet
with difficulties not to be overcome, which once
might have been easily obtained: to show what evil
consequences had already flowed from their delay
and irresolution; and to entreat them to fix on some
proposition, reasonable in itself, as well as possible
to be effected that the queen would insist upon the
cession of Tournay by France, provided the States
would concur in finishing the peace, without starting
new objections or insisting upon further points:
that the French demands in favour of the elector
of Bavaria appeared to be such as the queen was of
opinion the States ought to agree to; which were to
leave the elector in possession of Luxembourg, Na-
mur, and Charleroy, subject to the terms of their
barrier, until he should be restored to his electorate;
and to give him the kingdom of Sardinia, to efface
the stain of his degradation in the electoral college:
that the earl had brought over a project of a new
treaty of succession and barrier, which her majesty
insisted the States should sign before the conclusion
James duke of Hamilton was gentleman of the bedcham-
ber to Charles II. He succeeded his father in the title, April
18, 1694, and was sent the same year envoy extraordinary to
France; was appointed lord-lieutenant of Lancaster in 1710
created duke of Brandon, September 10, 1711; master-general
of the ordnance, August 29, 1712; knight of the Garter, Octo-
ber 26; and when preparing for his embassy to France was
killed, November 15, 1713.
b Charles lord Mohun was the last offspring of a very noble
And ancient family, of which William de Molun, who accom
panied the Norman conqueror, was the first founder in England.
Tried at the King's Bench for the murder, and the jury
found him guilty of manslaughter.
of the peace; the hormer treaty having been disad-
vantageous to her subjects, containing in it the seeds
of future dissensions, and condemned by the sense of
the nation: lastly, that er majesty, notwithstand-
ing all provocations, had, for the sake of the Dutch
and in hopes of their recovery from those false no-
tions which had so long misled them, hitherto kept
the negotiations open: that the offes now made
them were her last, and this the last time she would
apply to them: that they must either agree or ex-
pect the queen would proceed immediately to con-
clude her treaty with France and Spain, ia conjunc-
tion with such of her allies as would think fit to ad-
here to her.
"As to Savoy; that the queen expected the States
would concur with her in making good the advan-
tage stipulated for that duke, and in prevailing with
the emperor to consent to an absolute neutrality in
Italy until the peace should be concluded."
The governing party in Holland, however in ap-
pearance disposed to finish, affected new delays and
raised many difficulties about the four species of
goods which the French had excepted out of the
tariff. Count Zinzendorf, the emperor's plenipo-
tentiary, did all that was possible to keep up this
humour in the Dutch, in hopes to put them under a
necessity of preparing for the next campaign; and
some time after went so far in this pursuit, that he
summoned the several ministers of the empire, and
told them he had letters from his master with orders
to signify to them "That his imperial majesty re-
solved to begin the campaign early, with all his
forces united against France; of which he desired
they would send notice to all their courts, that the
several princes might be ready to furnish their con-
tingents and recruits." At the same time Zinzen-
dorf endeavoured to borrow two millions of florins
upon the security of some imperial cities, but could
not succeed either among the Jews or at Amsterdam.
When the earl of Strafford arrived at Utrecht, the
lord privy seal and he communicated to the Dutch
ministers the new treaty for a succession and bar-
rier, as the queen had ordered it to be prepared here
in England, differing from the former in several
points of the greatest moment, obvious to any
who will be at the pains to compare them. This
was strenuously opposed for several weeks by the
plenipotentiaries of the States. But the province of
Utrecht, where the congress was held, immediately
sent orders to their representatives at the Hague to
declare their province thankful to the queen:
"That they agreed the peace should be made on the
terms proposed by France, and consented to the
new projected treaty of barrier and succession."
And about the close of the year 1712 four of the
seven provinces had delivered their opinions for
putting an end to the war.
This unusual precipitation in the States, so differ-
ent from the whole tenor of their former conduct,
was very much suspected by the British plenipo-
tentiaries. Their lordships had received intelligence
"That the Dutch ministers held frequent confer-
ences with those of France, and had offered to settle
their interests with that crown without the concur-
rence of Britain." Count Zinzendorf and his col-
leagues appeared likewise all on the sudden to have
the same dispositions, and to be in great haste to
settle their several differences with the States. The
reasons for this proceeding were visible enough.
Many difficulties were yet undetermined in the
treaty of commerce between her majesty and France;
for the adjusting of which and some other points,
the queen had lately despatched the duke of Shrews-
bury to that court. Some of these were of hard di-
488
HISTORY OF THE FOUR
gestion, with which the most christian king would
not be under the necessity of complying when he
had no further occasion for us, and might upon that
account afford better terms to the other two powers.
Besides, the emperor and the States could very well
spare her majesy the honour of being arbitrator of
a general peac; and the latter hoped by this means
to avoid the new treaty of barrier and succession
which were now forcing on them.
To prevent the consequences of this evil, there
fortunately fell out an incident which the two lords
at Utrecht knew well how to make use of. The
quarrel between Mons. Mesnager and count Rech-
teren (formerly mentioned) had not yet been made
up. The French and Dutch differing in some cir-
cumstances about the satisfaction to be given by the
count for the affront he had offered, the British
plenipotentiaries kept this dispute on foot for several
days, and in the mean time pressed the Dutch to
finish the new treaty of barrier and succession be-
tween her majesty and them, which about the
middle of January was concluded fully to the
queen's satisfaction.
But while these debates and differences continued
at the congress, the queen resolved to put a speedy
end to her part in the war. She therefore sent
order to the lord privy seal and the earl of Strafford
to prepare everything necessary for signing her own
treaty with France. This she hoped might be done
against the meeting of her parliament, now pro-
rogued to the third of February; in which time
those among the allies who were really inclined to-
wards a peace might settle their several interests by
the assistance and support of her majesty's plenipo-
tentiaries; and as for the rest, who would either
refuse to comply or endeavour to protract the nego-
tiation, the heads of their respective demands, which
France had yielded by her majesty's intervention,
and agreeable to the plan laid down in her speech,
should be mentioned in the treaty, and a time
limited for the several powers concerned to receive
or reject them.
The pretender was not yet gone out of France,
upon some difficulties alleged by the French about
procuring him a safe-conduct to Bar-le-duc in the
duke of Lorrain's dominions, where it was then
proposed he should reside. The queen, altogether
bent upon quieting the minds of her subjects, de-
clared "She would not sign the peace till that per-
son were removed;" although several wise men be-
lieved he could be nowhere less dangerous to Bri-
tain than in the place where he was.
The argument which most prevailed on the States
to sign the new treaty of barrier and succession with
Britain was her majesty's promise to procure Tour-
nay for them from France; after which no more
differences remained between us and that republic;
and consequently they had no further temptations
to any separate transactions with the French, who
thereupon began to renew their litigious and haughty
manner of treating with the Dutch. The satisfac-
tion they extorted for the affront given by count
Rechteren to Mons. Mesnager, although somewhat
softened by the British ministers at Utrecht, was
yet so rigorous that her majesty could not forbear
signifying her resentment of it to the most christian
king. Mons. Mesnager, who seemed to have more
the genius of a merchant than a minister, began in
his conferences with the plenipotentiaries of the
States to raise new disputes upon points which both
we and they had reckoned upon as wholly settled.
The abbé de Polignac, a most accomplished person,
of great generosity and universal understanding, was
gone to France to receive the cardinal's cap; and
i
the mareschal d'Uxelles was wholly guided by his
colleague Mons. Mesnager, who kept up those
brangles that for a time obstructed the peace; some
of which were against all justice, and others of small
importance, both of very little advantage to his
country and less to the reputation of his master or
himself. This low talent in business, which the
cardinal de Polignac used in contempt to call a
spirit of negotiating, made it impossible for the two
lords plenipotentiaries, with all their abilities and
experience, to bring Mesnager to reason in several
points both with us and the States. His conces-
sions were few and constrained, serving only to ren-
der him more tenacious of what he refused. In
several of the towns which the States were to keep,
he insisted "That France should retain the chatel-
lanies, or extent of country depending on them,
particularly that of Tournay;" a demand the more
unjustifiable because he knew his master had not
only proceeded directly contrary, but had erected a
court in his kingdom where his own judges extended
the territories about those towns he had taken as far
as he pleased to direct them. Mons. Mesnager
showed equal obstinacy in what his master expected
for the elector of Bavaria, and in refusing the tariff
of 1664: so that the queen's plenipotentiaries repre-
sented these difficulties as what might be of a danger-
ous consequence, both to the peace in general and
to the States in particular, if they were not speedily
prevented.
Upon these considerations her majesty thought it
her shortest and safest course to apply directly to
France, where she had then so able a minister as the
duke of Shrewsbury.
The marquis de Torcy, secretary to the most
christian king, was the minister with whom the
duke was to treat, as having been the first who
moved his master to apply to the queen for a peace,
in opposition to a violent faction in that kingdom
who were as eagerly bent to continue the war as
any other could be, either here or in Holland.
It would be very unlike an historian to refuse
this great minister the praise he so justly deserves
of having treated through the whole course of so
great a negotiation with the utmost candour and
integrity; never once failing in any promise he
made, and tempering a firm zeal to his master's
interest with a ready compliance to what was rea-
sonable and just. Mr. Prior, whom I have formerly
mentioned, resided likewise now at Paris, with the
character of a minister plenipotentiary, and was very
acceptable to that court upon the score of his wit
and humour.
The duke of Shrewsbury was directed to press the
French court upon the points yet unsettled in the
treaty of commerce between both crowns to make
them
them drop their unreasonable demands for the
elector of Bavaria: to let them know "that the
queen was resolved not to forsake her allies who
were now ready to come in; and that she thought
the best way of hastening the general peace was to
determine her own particular one with France, until
which time she could not conveniently suffer her
parliament to meet.”
The States were by this time so fully convinced
of the queen's sincerity and affection to their repub-
lic, and how much they had been deceived by the
insinuations of the factious party in England, that
they wrote a very humble letter to her majesty to
desire her assistance towards settling those points
they had in dispute with France, and professing
themselves ready to acquiesce in whatever explana-
tion her majesty would please to make of the plan
proposed in her speech to the parliament.
LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
489
But the queen had already prevented their de-
sires; and in the beginning of February, 1712-13,
directed the duke of Shrewsbury to inform the
French court, That, since she had prevailed on
her allies the Dutch to drop the demand of Condé,
and the other of the four species of goods which the
French had excepted out of the tariff of 1664, she
would not sign without them: that she approved of
the Dutch insisting to have the chatellanies restored
with the towns; and was resolved to stand or fall
with them until they were satisfied in this point."
Her majesty had some apprehensions that the
French created these difficulties on purpose to spin
out the treaty until the campaign should begin.
They thought it absolutely necessary that our par-
liament should meet in a few weeks; which could
not well be ventured until the queen were able to
tell both houses that her own peace was signed:
that this would not only facilitate what remained in
difference between Britain and France, but leave
the Dutch entirely at the mercy of the latter.
The queen, weary of these refined mistakes in the
French politics and fully resolved to be trifled with
no longer, sent her determinate orders to the duke
of Shrewsbury to let France know "That her ma-
jesty had hitherto prorogued her parliament in hopes
of accommodating the difficulties in her own treaties
of peace and commerce with that crown, as well as
settling the interests of her several allies; or at
least that, the differences in the former being re-
moved, the most christian king would have made
such offers for the latter as might justify her majesty
in signing her own peace, whether the confederates
intended to sign theirs or not. But several points
being yet unfinished between both crowns, and
others between France and the rest of the allies,
especially the States, to which the plenipotentiaries
of that court at Utrecht had not thought fit to give
satisfaction; the queen was now come to a final de-
termination, both with relation to her own king-
doms and to the whole alliance, that, the campaign
approaching, she would not willingly be surprised
in case the war was to go on: that she had trans-
mitted to the duke of Shrewsbury her last resolu-
tions, and never would be prevailed on to reduce
her own demands or those of her allies any lower
than the scheme now sent over as an explanation
of the plan laid down in her speech: that her
majesty had sent orders to her plenipotentiaries at
Utrecht to assume the character of ambassadors, and
sign the peace immediately with the ministers of the
most christian king, as soon as the duke of Shrews-
bury should have sent them notice that the French
had complied: that the queen had therefore further
prorogued her parliament to the third of March, in
hopes to assure them by that time of her peace being
agreed on; for if the two houses meet while any
uncertainty remained supplies must be asked as for
a war."
The duke of Shrewsbury executed this important
commission with that speed and success which could
only be expected from an able minister. The French
king immediately yielded to the whole scheme her
majesty proposed; whereupon directions were sent
to the lord privy seal and the earl of Strafford to sign
a peace between Great Britain and France without
delay.
Upon the 2nd day of March the two British ple-
nipotentiaries met those of the allies in the town-
house of Utrecht; where the lord privy seal ad-
dressed himself to them in a short speech: "That
the negotiation had now continued fourteen months
with great slowness, which had proved very inju-
rious to the interests of the allies: that the queen
had stayed thus long and stopped the finishing of
her own peace rather than leave her allies in any
uncertainty: that she hoped they would now be all
prepared to put an end to this great work; and
therefore had commanded her plenipotentiaries to
tell those of the allies that she found it necessary to
conclude her own treaty immediately; and it was
her opinion that the confederates ought to finish
theirs at the same time; to which they were now
And
accordingly invited by her majesty's orders."
lastly, his lordship declared, in the queen's name,
"That whoever could not be ready on the day pre-
fixed should have a convenient time allowed them
to come in.”
Although the orders sent by the queen to her
plenipotentiaries were very precise, yet their lord-
ships did not precipitate the performance of them.
They were directed to appoint as short a day for the
signing as they conveniently could; but, however,
the particular day was left to their discretion. They
hoped to bring over the Dutch and most of the other
allies to conclude at the same time with the queen,
which, as it would certainly be more popular to their
country, so they conceived it would be more safe
for themselves. Besides upon looking over their
commission a scruple sprang in their minds that
they could not sign a particular peace with France;
their powers, as they apprehended, authorizing them
only to sign a general one. Their lordships there-
fore sent to England to desire new powers; and in
the mean time employed themselves with great in-
dustry between the ministers of France and those
of the several allies, to find some expedient for
smoothing the way to an agreement among them.
The earl of Strafford went for a few days to the
Hague, to inform the States of her majesty's express
commands to his colleague and himself for signing
the peace as soon as possible; and to desire they
would be ready at the same time, which the pen-
sionary promised; and that their plenipotentiaries
should be empowered accordingly, to the great con-
tentment of Mons. Buys, who was now so much
altered either in reality or appearance, that he com-
plained to the earl of Mons. Heinsius's slowness,
and charged all the delays and mismanagements of
a twelvemonth past to that minister's account.
While the earl of Strafford stayed at the Hague
he discovered that an emissary of the duke of Marl-
borough's had been there some days before, sent by
his grace to dissuade the Dutch from signing at the
same time with the ministers of the queen, which,
in England, would at least have the appearance of a
separate peace, and oblige their British friends, who
knew how to turn so short a delay to very good ac-
count, as well as gratify the emperor; on whom it
was alleged they ought to to rely much more than
on her majesty. One of the States likewise told
the earl," that the same person employed by the
duke was then in conference with the magistrates of
Rotterdam (which town had declared for the con-
tinuance of the war), to assure them, if they would
hold off a little, they should see an unexpected turn
in the British parliament: that the duke of Marl-
borough had a list of the discontented members in
both houses who were ready to turn against the
court; and to crown all, that his grace had certain
intelligence of the queen being in so ill a state of
health as made it impossible for her to live above
six weeks.” So restless and indefatigable are ava-
rice and ambition when inflamed by a desire of re-
venge!
But representations which had been so often
tried were now offered too late. Most of the allies,
except the emperor, were willing to put an end to
490
FOUR LAST YEARS OF QUEEN ANNE.
the war upon her majesty's plan; and the further,
delay of three weeks must be chiefly imputed to that
litigious manner of treating peculiar to the French,
whose plenipotentiaries at Utrecht insisted with ob-
stinacy upon many points which at Paris Mons. de
Torcy had given up.
The emperor expected to keep all he had already
possessed in Italy; that Port Langue, on the Tuscan
coast, should be delivered to him by France; and
lastly, that he should not be obliged to renounce
Spain. But the queen, as well as France, thought
his imperial majesty ought to sit down contented
with his partage of Naples and Milan; and to re-
store those territories in Italy which he had taken
from the rightful proprictors, and by the possession
of which he has grown dangerous to the Italian
princes by reviving antiquated claims upon them.
This prince had likewise objected to her majesty's
expedient of suffering the elector of Bavaria to retain
Luxembourg, under certain conditions, by way of
security, until his electorate were restored. But the
queen, supposing that these affected delays were in-
tended only with a view of continuing the war, re-
solved to defer the peace no longer on the emperor's
account.
In the middle of March, 1712-13, a courier arrived
at Utrecht from France with the plan of a general
peace, as it had been agreed between the duke of
Shrewsbury and Mons. de Torcy; wherein every
particular relating to the interests and pretensions
of the several allies was brought so near to what
each of them would accept, that the British pleni- |
potentiaries hoped the peace would be general in
ten or twelve days. The Portuguese and Dutch
were already prepared, and others were daily coming
in by the means of their lordships' good offices, who
found Mons. Mesnager and his colleague very stub-
born to the last. Another courier was despatched
to France, upon some disputes about inserting the
titles of her majesty and the most christian king;
and to bring a general plan for the interests of those
allies who should not be ready against the time pre-
fixed. The French renunciations were now arrived
at Utrecht; and it was agreed that those, as well as
that of the king of Spain, should be inserted at length
in every treaty; by which means the whole confe-
deracy would become guarantees of them.
The courier last sent to France returned to Utrecht
on the 27th of March with the concessions of that
court upon every necessary point; so that, all things
being ready for putting a period to this great and
difficult work, the lord privy seal and the carl of
Strafford gave notice to the ministers of the several
allies "That their lordships had appointed Tuesday,
the 31st inst., wherein to sign a treaty of peace and a
treaty of commerce between the queen of Great Britain.
their mistress and the most christian king; and hoped
the said allies would be prepared at the same time to
follow their example." "Accordingly their lordships
employed the three intervening days in smoothing the
few difficulties that remained between the French
ministers and those of the several confederate
powers.
The important day being now come, the lord
bishop of Bristol and the earl of Strafford, having as-
sumed the character of ambassadors extraordinary,
gave a memorial in behalf of the French protestants
to the mareschal d'Uxelles and his colleague, who
were to transmit it to their court; and these de-
livered to the British ambassadors a declaration in
writing that the pretender was actually gone out of
France.
The conditions of peace to be allowed the emperor
and the empire. as adjusted between Britain and
|
France, were now likewise delivered to the count
Zinzendorf. These and some other previous matters
of smaller consequence being finished, the treaties
of peace and commerce between her majesty of Bri-
tain and the most christian king were signed at the
lord privy seal's house, between two and three of the
clock in the afternoon. The ministers of the duke
of Savoy signed about an hour after. Then the as-
sembly adjourned to the earl of Strafford's, where
they all went to dinner; and about nine at night
the peace was signed by the ministers of Portugal,
by those of Prussia at eleven, and when it was near
midnight by the States.
Thus, after all the opposition raised by a strong
party in France and by a virulent faction in Britain;
after all the artifices of those who presided at the
Hague, who for their private interest endeavoured,
in conjunction with their friends in England, to
prolong the war; after the restless endeavours of
the imperial court to render the treaty ineffectual;
the firm steady conduct of the queen, the wisdom
and courage of her ministry, and the abilities of
those whom she employed in her negotiations abroad,
prevailed to have a peace signed in one day by every
power concerned, except that of the emperor and
the empire; for his imperial majesty liked his situ-
ation too well to think of a peace, while the drudgery
and expenses of the war lay upon other shoulders,
and the advantages were to redound only to himself.
During this whole negotiation the king of Spain,
who was not acknowledged by any of the confede-
rates, had consequently no minister at Utrecht; but
the differences between her majesty and that prince
were easily settled by the lord Lexington at Madrid
and the marquis of Monteleon here; so that, upon
the duke d'Ossuna's arrival at the congress some
days after the peace, he was ready to conclude a
treaty between the queen and his master. Neither
is it probable that the Dutch, or any other ally ex-
cept the emperor, will encounter any difficulties of
moment, to retard their several treaties with his
catholic majesty.
·
ex-
The treaties of peace and commerce between
Britain and France were ratified here on the 7th of
April; on the 28th the ratifications were
changed; and on the 5th of May the peace was
proclaimed in the usual manner, but with louder
acclamations and more extraordinary rejoicings of
the people than had ever been remembered on the
like occasion.
SOME
FREE THOUGHTS
UPON THE
PRESENT STATE OF AFFAIRS.
1714.
ABOUT a month before the demise of queen Anne, the dean,
having laboured to reconcile the ministers to each other without
success, retired to the house of a friend in Berkshire, and never
saw them more. But during this retreat he wrote the following
treatise, which he thought might be of some use even in that
juncture, and sent it up to London to be printed; but upon
some difference in opinion between the author and the late ford
Bolingbroke the publication was delayed till the queen's death,
and then he recalled his copy; it was afterwards placed in the
hands of alderman Barber, from whom it was obtained to be
printed. The ruin of the ministry, by this animosity among
themselves, was long foreseen and foretold by Swift; and it
appears by lord Bolingbroke's letter to sir William Wyndham
that in his heart he renounced his friendship for Oxford long
before the conclusion of the peace, though it did not appear till
"The peace," says ho, "which had been judged
to be the only solid foundation whereupou we could erect a
Tory system, and yet, when it was made, we found ourselves at
afterwards.
THOUGHTS ON THE PRESENT STATE OF AFFAIRS.
491
a stand; nay, the very work which ought to have been the
basis of our strength was in part demolished before our eyes,
and we were stoned with the ruins of it." This event probably
rendered the disunion of the ministry visible; some principally
endeavouring to secure themselves, some still labouring to
establish at all events the party they had espoused, which saw
nothing but "increase of mortification and nearer approaches
to ruin:" and it is not to be wondered at that when this
treatise was written the dean's attempts to reconcile his
friends were unsuccessful; for Bolingbroke declares that he
abhorred Oxford to such a degree, that he would rather have
suffered banishment or death than have taken measures in
concert with him to have avoided either.
WHATEVER may be thought or practised by profound
politicians, they will hardly be able to convince the
reasonable part of mankind that the most plain, short,
easy, safe, and lawful way to any good end, is not
more eligible than one directly contrary to some or
all of these qualities. I have been frequently assured
by great ministers that politics were nothing but
common sense; which, as it was the only true thing
they spoke, so it was the only thing they could have
wished I should not believe. God has given the
bulk of mankind a capacity to understand reason
when it is fairly offered; and by reason they would
easily be governed if it were left to their choice.
Those princes in all ages who were most dis-
tinguished for their mysterious skill in government
found by the event that they had ill consulted their
own quiet or the ease and happiness of their peo-
ple; nor has posterity remembered them with
honour: such as Lysander and Philip among the
Greeks, Tiberius in Rome, pope Alexander the
sixth and his son Cæsar Borgia, queen Catherine de
Medicis, Philip II. of Spain, with many others.
Nor are examples less frequent of ministers, famed
for men of great intrigue, whose politics have pro-
duced little more than murmurings, factions, and
discontents, which usually terminated in the dis-
grace and ruin of the authors.
I can recollect but three occasions in a state
where the talents of such men may be thought ne-
cessary; I mean in a state where the prince is
obeyed and loved by his subjects: first, in the nego-
tiation of the peace; secondly, in adjusting the in-
terests of our own country with those of the nations
round us, watching the several motions of our
neighbours and allies, and preserving a due balance
among them: lastly, in the management of parties
and factions at home. In the first of these cases I
have often heard it observed that plain good sense
and a firm adherence to the point have proved more
effectual than all those arts which I remember a
great foreign minister used in contempt to call the
spirit of negotiating. In the second case, much
wisdom and a thorough knowledge in affairs both
foreign and domestic, are certainly required; after
which I know no talents necessary beside method
and skill in the common forms of business.
last case, which is that of managing parties, there
seems indeed to be more occasion for employing this
gift of the lower politics whenever the tide runs
high against the court and ministry; which seldom
happens under any tolerable administration while
the true interest of the nation is pursued. But here
in England (for I do not pretend to establish max-
ims of government in general), while the prince and
ministry, the clergy, the majority of landed men,
and the bulk of the people, appear to have the same
views and the same principles, it is not obvious to
me how those at the helm can have many opportu-
nities of showing their skill in mystery and refine-
ment beside what themselves think fit to create.
In the
I have been assured by men long practised in
business that the secrets of court are much fewer
than we generally suppose; and I hold it for the
|
greatest secret of the court that they are so because
the first springs of great events, like those of great
rivers, are so often mean and so little that in de-
cency they ought to be hid: and therefore ministers
are so wise to leave their proceedings to be ac-
counted for by reasoners at a distance, who often
mould them into systems that do not only go down
very well in the coffeehouse, but are supplies for
pamphlets in the present age, and may probably
furnish materials for memoirs and histories in the
next.
It is true indeed that even those who are very
near the court and are supposed to have a large
share in the management of public matters are apt
to deduce wrong consequences by reasoning upon
the causes and motives of those actions wherein
themselves are employed. A great minister puts you
a case and asks your opinion, but conceals an essen-
tial circumstance upon which the whole weight of
the matter turns; then he despises your understand-
ing for counselling him no better, and concludes he
ought to trust entirely to his own wisdom. Thus he
grows to abound in secrets and reserves, even to-
wards those with whom he ought to act in the great-
est confidence and concert: and thus the world is
brought to judge that, whatever be the issue and
event, it was all foreseen, contrived, and brought to
pass by some masterstroke of his politics.
I could produce innumerable instances, from my
own memory and observation, of events imputed to
the profound skill and address of a minister, which
in reality were either the mere effects of negligence,
weakness, humour, passion, or pride, or at best but
the natural course of things left to themselves.
During this very session of parliament a most in-
genious gentleman, who has much credit with those
in power, would needs have it, that in the late dis-
sensions at court, which grew too high to be any
longer a secret, the whole matter was carried with
the utmost dexterity on one side and with manifest
ill conduct on the other. To prove this he made
use of the most plausible topics, drawn from the na-
ture and disposition of the several persons con-
cerned as well as of her majesty; all which he
knows as much of as any man: and gave me a de-
tail of the whole with such an appearance of proba-
bility as committed to writing would pass for an
admirable piece of secret history. Yet I am at the
same time convinced by the strongest reasons that
the issue of those dissensions, as to the part they had
in the court and the house of lords, was partly
owing to very different causes and partly to the
situation of affairs, whence in that conjuncture they
could not easily terminate otherwise than they did,
whatever unhappy consequences they may have for
the future.
In like manner, I have heard a physician pro-
nounce with great gravity that he had cured so
many patients of malignant fevers, and as many
more of the small-pox; whereas, in truth, nine parts
in ten of those who recovered owed their lives to the
strength of nature and a good constitution, while
such a one happened to be their doctor.
But while it is so difficult to learn the springs and
motives of some facts, and so easy to forget the cir
cumstances of others, it is no wonder they should be
so grossly misrepresented to the public by curious
inquisitive heads who proceed altogether upon con-
jectures, and in reasoning upon affairs of state are
sure to be mistaken by searching too deep. And as
I have known this to be the frequent error of many
others, so I am sure it has been perpetually mine
whenever I have attempted to discover the causes of
political events by refinement and conjecture;
192
FREE THOUGHTS UPON THE
which I must acknowledge has very much abated
my veneration for what they call arcana imperii;
whereof I dare pronounce that the fewer there are
in any administration, it is just so much the better.
What I have hitherto said has by no means been
intended to detract from the qualities requisite in
those who are trusted with the administration of
public affairs; on the contrary, I know no station
of life where great abilities and virtues of all kinds
are so highly necessary, and where the want of any
is so quickly or universally felt. A great minister
has no virtue for which the public may not be the
better, nor any defect by which the public is not
certainly a sufferer. I have known more than once
or twice within four years past an omission in ap-
pearance very small prove almost fatal to a whole
scheme and very hardly retrieved. It is not always
sufficient for the person at the helm that he is intre-
pid in his nature, free from any tincture of avarice
or corruption, and that he has great natural and ac-
quired abilities.
|
|
were most agreeable to the constitution in church
and state whose birth and patrimonies gave them
weight in the nation; and who (I speak of those
who were to have the chief part in affairs) had long
lived under the strictest bonds of friendship: with
all these advantages, supported by a vast majority of
the landed interest and the inferior clergy almost to
a man, we have several times seen the present admi-
nistration in the greatest distress and very near the
brink of ruin, together with the cause of the church
and monarchy committed to their charge; neither
does it appear to me at the minute I am now writing
that their power or duration are upon any tolerable
foot of security: which I do not so much impute tc
the address and industry of their enemies as to some
failures among themselves, which I think have been
full as visible in their causes as their effects.
Nothing has given me greater indignation than to
behold a ministry, who came in with the advantages
I have represented, acting ever since upon the defen-
sive in the house of lords, with a majority on their
side; and instead of calling others to account, as it
was reasonably expected, misspending their time and
losing many opportunities of doing good, because a
struggling faction kept them continually in play.
This courage among the adversaries of the court was
inspired into them by various incidents, for every
one of which I think the ministers, or (if that was
the case) the minister alone, is to answer.
For, first, that race of politicians who in the cant
phrase are called the whimsicals" was never so nu-
merous or at least so active as it has been since the
great change at court: many of those who pretended
wholly to be in with the principles upon which her
majesty and her new servants proceeded either ab-
senting themselves with the utmost indifference in
those conjunctions whereon the whole cause de-
I never thought the reputation of much secrecy
was a character of any advantage to a minister, be-
cause it put all other men upon their guard to be as
secret as he, and was consequently the occasion that
persons and things were always misrepresented to
him because likewise too great an affectation of
secrecy is usually thought to be attended with those
little intrigues and refinements which among the
vulgar denominate a man a great politician, but
among others is apt, whether deservedly or not, to
acquire the opinion of cunning: a talent which
differs as much from the true knowledge of govern-
ment as that of an attorney from an able lawyer.
Neither indeed am I altogether convinced that this
habit of multiplying secrets may not be carried on so
far as to stop that communication which is necessary
in some degree among all who have any consider-pended or siding directly with the enemy.
able part in the management of public affairs: I very well remember, when this ministry was not
because I have observed the inconveniences arising above a year old, there was a little murmuring
from a want of love between those who were to give among such as are called the higher Tories or
directions to have been of as ill consequence as any churchmen that quicker progress was not made in
that could happen from the discovery of secrets. removing those of the discontented party out of em-
suppose, when a building is to be erected, the model ployments. I remember likewise the reasonings
may be the contrivance only of one head; and it is upon this matter were various, even among many
sufficient that the under-workmen be ordered to cut who were allowed to know a good deal of the inside
stones into certain shapes, and place them in certain of the court; some supposed the queen was at first
positions: but the several master-builders must have prevailed upon to make that great change with no
some general knowledge of the design, without other view than that of acting for the future upon a
which they can give no orders at all. And indeed moderating scheme, in order to reconcile both par-
I do not know a greater mark of an able minister ties; and I believe there might possibly have been
than that of rightly adapting the several faculties of some grounds for this supposition. Others con-
men; nor is anything more to be lamented than the ceived the employments were left undisposed of, in
impracticableness of doing this in any great degree order to keep alive the hopes of many more impa-
under our present circumstances; while so many tient candidates than ever could be gratified. This
shut themselves out by adhering to a faction, and has since been looked on as a very high strain of
while the court is enslaved to the impatience of politics, and to have succeeded accordingly; because
others who desire to sell their vote or their interest it is the opinion of many that the numerous pre-
as dear as they can. But whether this has not been tenders to places would never have been kept in
submitted to more than was necessary, whether it order if all expectation had been cut off. Others
has not been dangerous in the example and perni- were yet more refined, and thought it neither wise nor
cious in the practice, I will leave to the inquiry of safe wholly to extinguish all opposition from the other
those who can better determine.
side, because in the nature of things it was absolutely
necessary that there should be parties in an English
parliament; and a faction already odious to the peo-
ple might be suffered to continue with less danger
than any new one that could arise. To confirm this
it was said that the majority in the house of com-
mons was too great on the side of the high-church,
and began to form themselves into a body (by the
name of the October Club), in order to put the mi-
nistry under subjection. Lastly, the danger of in-
troducing too great a number of unexperienced men
" Deserters from either party, Whig or Tory.
It may be matter of no little admiration to consi-
der in some lights the state of affairs among us for
four years past. The queen, finding herself and the
majority of her kingdom grown weary of the avarice
and insolence, the mistaken politics and destructive
principles of her former ministers, calls to the ser-
vice of the public another set of men, who by con-
fession of their enemies had equal abilities at least
with their predecessors, whose interest made it ne-
cessary for them (although their inclinations had
teen otherwise) to act upon those maxims which
|
PRESENT STATE OF AFFAIRS.
493
at once into office was urged as an irrefragable rea-
son for making changes by slow degrees. To dis-
card an able officer from an employment, or part of
a commission, where the revenue or trade were con-
cerned, for no other reason but differing in some
principles of government, might be of terrible conse-
quence.
However, it is certain that none of these excuses
were able to pass among men who argued only from
the principles of general reason. For, first, they
looked upon all schemes of comprehension to be as
visionary and impossible in the state as in the church.
Secondly, while the spirit raised by the trial of Dr.
Sacheverell continued in motion, men were not so
keen upon coming in themselves as to see their ene-
mies out and deprived of all assistance to do mis-
chief: and it is urged further that this general am-
bition of hunting after places grew chiefly from sec-
ing them so long undisposed of, and from too gene-
ral an encouragement by promises to all who were
thought capable of doing either good or hurt.
Thirdly, the fear of creating another party in case
the present faction were wholly subdued was in the
opinion of plain men, and in regard to the situation
of our affairs, too great a sacrifice of the nation's
safety to the genius of politics; considering how
much was to be done and how little time might pro-
bably be allowed. Besides the division of a house
of commons into court and country parties, which
was the evil they seemed to apprehend, could never
be dangerous to a good ministry who had the true
interest and constitution of their country at heart;
as for the apprehension of too great a majority in
the house of commons, it appeared to be so vain
that upon some points of importance the court was
hardly able to procure one. And the October Club,
which appeared so formidable at first to some poli-
ticians, proved in the sequel to be the chief support
of those who suspected them. It was likewise very
well known that the greatest part of those men
whom the former ministry left in possession of em-
ployments were loudly charged with insufficiency or
corruption, over and above their obnoxious tenets
in religion and government; so that it would have
been a matter of some difficulty to make a worse
choice;
beside that the plea for keeping men of
factious principles in employment upon the score of
their abilities was thought to be extended a little too
far and construed to take in all employments what-
soever, although many of them required no more
abilities than would serve to qualify a gentleman-
usher at court: so that this last excuse for the very
slow steps made in disarming the adversaries of the
crown was allowed indeed to have more plausibi-
lity but less truth than any of the former.
I do not here pretend to condemn the counsels or
actions of the present ministry: their safety and in-
terest are visibly united with those of the public;
they are persons of unquestionable abilities, altoge-
ther unsuspected of avarice or corruption, and have
the advantage to be farther recommended by the
dread and hatred of the opposite faction. However
it is manifest that the zeal of their friends has been
cooling toward them for above two years past; they
have been frequently deserted or distressed upon the
most pressing occasions, and very near giving up in
despair their characters have been often treated
with the utmost barbarity and injustice, in both
houses, by scurrilous and enraged orators; while
their nearest friends, and even those who must have
a share in their disgrace, never offered a word in
their vindication.
When I examine with myself what occasions the
ministry may have given for this coldness, incon-
|
I
stancy, and discontent among their friends, I at
the same time recollect the various conjectures, rea-
sonings, and suspicions which have run so freely for
three years past concerning the designs of the
court: I do not only mean such conjectures as are
born in a coffeehouse or invented by the malice of
a party, but also the conclusions (however mistaken)
of wise and good men, whose quality and station
fitted them to understand the reason of public pro-
ceedings, and in whose power it lay to recommend
or disgrace an administration to the people.
must therefore take the boldness to assert that all
these discontents, how ruinous soever they may
prove in the consequences, have most unnecessarily
arisen from the want of a due communication and
concert. Every man must have a light sufficient for
the length of the way he is appointed to go there
is a degree of confidence due to all stations and a
petty constable will neither act cheerfully nor wisely
without that share of it which properly belongs to
him: although the main spring of a watch be out of
sight there is an intermediate communication be-
tween it and the smallest wheel, or else no useful
motion could be performed. This reserved mysteri-
ous way of acting upon points where there appeared
not the least occasion for it, and towards persons
who at least in right of their posts expected a more
open treatment, was imputed to some hidden design,
which every man conjectured to be the very thing
he was most afraid of. Those who professed the
height of what is called the church principle sus-
pected that a comprehension was intended wherein
the moderate men on both sides might be equally
employed. Others went further, and dreaded such
a comprehension as directly tending to bring the old
exploded principles and persons once more into play.
Again, some affected to be uneasy about the suc-
cession, and seemed to think there was a view of
introducing that person, whatever he is, who pre-
tends to claim the crown by inheritance. Others,
especially of late, surmised on the contrary that the
demands of the house of Hanover were industriously
fomented by some in power, without the privity of
the
Now, although these accusa-
tions were too inconsistent to be all of them true,
yet they were maliciously suffered to pass, and thereby
took off much of that popularity of which those at
the helm stood in need to support them under the
difficulties of a long perplexing negotiation, a daily
addition of public debts, and au exhausted treasury.
or
But the effects of this mystical manner of proceed-
ing did not end here: for the late dissensions be-
tween the great men at court (which have been for
some time past the public entertainment of every
coffeehouse) are said to have arisen from the same
fountain; while on one side very great reserve, and
certainly very great resentment on the other, if we
may believe general report (for I pretend to know
no further), have inflamed animosities to such a
height as to make all reconcilement impracticable.
Supposing this to be true, it may serve for a great
lesson of humiliation to mankind, to behold the
habits and passions of men, otherwise highly accom-
plished, triumphing over interest, friendship, honour,
and their own personal safety, as well as that of their
country, and probably of a most gracious princess
who had intrusted it to them. A ship's crew quar-
relling in a storm or while their enemies are within
gunshot is but a faint idea of this fatal infatuation:
of which, although it be hard to say enough, some
people may think perhaps I have already said too
much.
Since this unhappy incident the desertion of
friends and loss of reputation have been so great,
494
FREE THOUGHTS UPON THE
that I do not see how the ministers could have con-
tinued many weeks in their stations if their op-
posers of all kinds had agreed about the methods by
which they should be ruined: and their preserva-
tion hitherto seems to resemble his who had two
poisons given him together of contrary operations.
It may seem very impertinent in one of my level
to point out to those who sit at the helm what course
they ought to steer. I know enough of courts to be
sensible how mean an opinion great ministers have
of most men's understandings; to a degree that in
any other science would be called the grossest pe-
dantry. However, unless I offer my sentiments in
this point, all I have hitherto said will be to no purpose.
The general wishes and desires of a people are
perhaps more obvious to other men than to ministers
of state. There are two points of the highest im-
portance wherein a very great majority of the king-
dom appear perfectly hearty and unanimous. First,
that the church of England should be preserved en-
tire in all her rights, powers, and privileges; all doc-
trines relating to government discouraged which
she condemns; all schisms, sects, and heresies dis-
countenanced and kept under due subjection, as far
as consists with the lenity of our constitution; her
open enemies (among whom I include at least dis-
senters of all denominations) not trusted with the
smallest degree of civil or military power; and her
secret adversaries, under the names of Whigs, low
church, republicans, moderation-men, and the like,
receive no marks of favour from the crown but what
they should deserve by a sincere reformation.
Had this point been steadily pursued in all its
parts for three years past and asserted as the avow-
ed resolution of the court, there must probably have
been an end of faction, which has been able ever since
with so much vigour to disturb and insult the admi-
nistration. I know very well that some refiners
pretend to argue for the usefulness of parties in such
a government as ours; I have said something of this
already, and have heard a great many idle wise
topics upon the subject. But I shall not argue that
matter at present: I suppose, if a man think it ne-
cessary to play with a serpent, he will choose one
of a kind that is least mischievous; otherwise, al-
though it appears to be crushed, it may have life
enough to sting him to death. So I think it is not
safe tampering with the present faction, at least in
this juncture: first, because their principles and
practices have been already very dangerous to the
constitution in church and state; secondly, because
they are highly irritated with the loss of their power,
full of venom and vengeance, and prepared to exe-
cute everything that rage or malice can suggest; but
principally because they have prevailed, by misre-
presentations and other artifices, to make the suc-
cessor look upon them as the only persons he can
trust upon which account they cannot be too soon
or too much disabled: neither will England ever
be safe from the attempts of this wicked confederacy
until their strength and interests shall be so far re-
duced that for the future it shall not be in the
power
of the crown, although in conjunction with any rich
and factious body of men, to choose an ill majority
in the house of commons.
One step very necessary to this great work will be
to regulate the army, and chiefly those troops which
in their turns have the care of her majesty's person;
who are most of them fitter to guard a prince under
a high court of justice than seated on the throne.
The peculiar hand of Providence has hitherto pre-
served her majesty, encompassed, whether sleeping
or travelling, by her enemies: but since religion
teaches us that Providence ought not to be tempted,
|
it is ill venturing to trust that precious life any
longer to those who, by their public behaviour and
discourse, discover their impatience to see it at an
end, that they may have liberty to be the instru-
ments of glutting at once the revenge of their patrons
and their own. It should be well remembered
what a satisfaction these gentlemen (after the ex-
ample of their betters) were so sanguine to express
upon the queen's last illness at Windsor, and what
threatenings they used of refusing to obey their
general in case that illness had proved fatal. Nor
do I think it a want of charity to suspect that in
such an evil day an enraged faction would be highly
pleased with the power of the sword, and with grea.
connivance leave it so long unsheathed until they
were got rid of their most formidable adversaries.
In the mean time it must be a very melancholy pros-
pect, that whenever it shall please God to visit us
with this calamity, those who are paid to be de-
fenders of the civil power will stand ready for any
acts of violence that a junto, composed of the
greatest enemies to the constitution, shall think fit
to enjoin them.
The other point of great importance is the secu-
rity of the protestant succession in the house of
Hanover; not from any partiality to that illustrious
house further than as it has had the honour to min-
gle with the blood royal of England, and is the
nearest branch of our regal line reformed from po-
pery. This point has one advantage over the former,
that both parties profess to desire the same blessing
for posterity, but differ about the means of securing
it. Whence it has come to pass that the protestant
succession, in appearance the desire of the whole
nation, has proved the greatest topic of slander, jea-
lousy, suspicion, and discontent.
I have been so curious to ask several acquaint-
ances among the opposite party whether they or
their leaders did really suspect there had been ever
any design in the ministry to weaken the succession
in favour of the pretender or of any other person
whatsoever. Some of them freely answered in the
negative; others were of the same opinion, but added
they did not know what might be done in time and
upon further provocations; others again seemed to
believe the affirmative, but could never produce any
plausible grounds for their belief. I have likewise
been assured by a person of some consequence that
during a very near and constant familiarity with the
great men at court for four years past he never could
observe, even in those hours of conversation where
there is usually least restraint, that one word ever
passed among them to show a dislike to the present
settlement; although they would sometimes lament
that the false representations of theirs and the king-
dom's enemies had made some impressions in the
mind of the successor. As to my own circle of ac-
quaintance, I can safely affirm that, excepting those
who are nonjurors by profession, I have not met
with above two persons who appeared to have any
scruples concerning the present limitation of the
crown. I therefore think it may very impartially be
pronounced that the number of those who wish to
see the son of the abdicated prince upon the throne
is altogether inconsiderable. And further, I believe
it will be found that there are none who so much
dread any attempt he shall make for the recovery of
his imagined rights as the Roman catholics of Eng-
land; who love their freedom and properties too
well to desire his entrance by a French army and a
field of blood; who must continue upon the same
foot if he changes his religion, and must expect to
be the first and greatest sufferers if he should happen
to fail.
PRESENT STATE OF AFFAIRS.
495
As to the person of this nominal prince, he lics
under all manner of disadvantages; the vulgar ima-
gine him to have been a child imposed upon the
nation by the fraudulent zeal of his parents and
their bigoted counsellors; who took special care
against all the rules of common policy to educate
him in their hateful superstition, sucked in with his
milk and confirmed in his manhood, too strongly to
be now shaken by Mr. Lesley; and a counterfeit
conversion will be too gross to pass upon the king-
dom after what we have seen and suffered from the
like practice in his father. He is likewise said to be
of weak intellectuals and an unsound constitution;
he was treated contemptibly enough by the young
princes of France even during the war; is now wholly
neglected by that crown, and driven to live in exile
upon a small exhibition; he is utterly unknown in
England, which he left in the cradle; his father's
friends are most of them dead, the rest antiquated or
poor. Six-and-twenty years have almost passed since
the Revolution, and the bulk of those who are now
most in action either at court, in parliament, or
public offices, were then boys at school or the uni-
versities, and look upon that great change to have
happened during a period of time for which they are
not accountable. The logic of the highest Tories is
now that this was the establishment they found as
soon as they arrived at a capacity of judging; that
they had no hand in turning out the late king, and
therefore had no crime to answer for if it were any;
that the inheritance to the crown is fixed in pursu-
ance of laws made ever since their remembrance, by
which all papists are excluded, and they have no
other rule to go by; that they will no more dispute
king William III.'s title than king William Ï.'s;
since they must have recourse to history for both;
that they have been instructed in the doctrines of
passive obedience, non-resistance, and hereditary
right, and find them all necessary for preserving the
present establishment in church and state and for
continuing the succession in the house of Hanover,
and must in their own opinion renounce all those
doctrines by setting up any other title to the crown.
This, I say, seems to be the political creed of all the
high principled men. I have for some time met with
of forty years old and under; which, although I do
not pretend to justify in every part, yet I am sure it
sets the protestant succession upon a much firmer
foundation than all the indigested schemes of those
who profess to act upon what they call Revolution
principles.
Neither should it perhaps be soon forgotten that,
during the greatest licentiousness of the press, while
the sacred character of the queen was every day in-
sulted in factious papers and ballads, not the least
reflecting insinuation ever appeared against the
Hanover family, whatever occasion was offered to
intemperate pens by the rashness or indiscretion of
one or two ministers from thence.
From all these considerations I must therefore lay
it down as an incontestable truth that the succession
to these kingdoms in the illustrious house of Hanover
is as firmly secured as the nature of the thing can
possibly admit; by the oaths of all those who are
intrusted with any office, by the very principles of
those who are termed the high church, by the gene-
ral inclinations of the people, by the insignificancy of
that person who claims it from inheritance, and the
little assistance he can expect either from princes
abroad or adherents at home.
However, since the virulent opposers of the queen
and her administration have so far prevailed by their
emissaries at the court of Hanover, and by their
practices upon one or two ignorant unmannerly
messengers from thence, as to make the elector
desire some further security, and send over a memo-
rial here to that end, the great question is how to
give reasonable satisfaction to his highness, and (what
is infinitely of greater consequence) at the same time
consult the honour and safety of the queen, whose
quiet possession is of much more consequence to us
of the present age than his reversion. The substance
of his memorial, if I retain it right, is to desire that
some one of his family might live in England, with
such a maintenance as is usual to those of the royal
blood, and that certain titles should be conferred up-
on the rest, according to ancient custom. The
memorial does not specify which of the family should
be invited to reside here; and if it had, I believe
however her majesty would have looked upon it as a
circumstance left to her own choice.
The
But as all this is most manifestly unnecessary in
itself, and only in compliance with the mistaken
doubts of a presumptive heir; so the nation would
(to speak in the language of Mr. Steele) expect that
her majesty should be made perfectly easy from that
side for the future; no more to be alarmed with ap-
prehensions of visits, or demands of writs, where
she has not thought fit to give any invitation.
nation would likewise expect that there should be
an end of all private commerce between that court
and the leaders of a party here; and that his elec-
toral highness should declare himself entirely satis-
fied with all her majesty's proceedings, her treaties
of peace and commerce, her alliances abroad, her
choice of ministers at home, and particularly in
her most gracious condescensions to his request:
that he would upon all proper occasions, and in the
most public manner, discover his utter dislike of
factious persons and principles, but especially of that
party which under the pretence or shelter of his
protection has so long disquieted the kingdom: and
lastly, that he would acknowledge the goodness of
the queen and justice of the nation in so fully
securing the succession to his family.
It is indeed a problem which I could never com-
prehend, why the court of Hanover, who have all
along thought themselves so perfectly secure in the
affections, the principles, and the professions of the
low church party, should not have endeavoured,
according to the usual politics of princes, to gain
over those who are represented as their enemies;
since these supposed enemies had made so many
advances, were in possession of all the power, had
framed the very settlement to which that illus-
trious family owes its claim, had all of them abjured
the pretender, were now employed in the great
offices of state, and composed a majority in both
houses of parliament. Not to mention that the
queen herself, with the bulk of the landed gentry
and commonalty throughout the kingdom, were of
the number. This one would think might be a
strength sufficient not only to obstruct but to bestow
a succession and since the presumed heir could not
but be perfectly secure of the other party, whose
greatest avowed grievance was the pretended danger
of his future rights, it must therefore surely have
been worth his while to have made at least one
step toward cultivating a fair correspondence with
the power in possession. Neither could those
who are called his friends have blamed him, or
with the least decency enter into any engagements
for defeating his title.
But why might not the reasons of this proceeding
in the elector be directly contrary to what is com-
monly imagined? Methinks I could endeavour to
believe that his highness is thoroughly acquainted
with both parties; is convinced that no true member
496
THOUGHTS ON THE PRESENT STATE OF AFFAIRS.
of the church of England can easily be shaken in
his principles of loyalty, or forget the obligation
of an oath, by any provocation. That these are
therefore the people he intends to rely upon, and
keeps only fair with the others from a true notion
he has of their doctrines, which prompt them to
forget their duty upon every motive of interest or
ambition. If this conjecture be right, his highness
cannot sure but entertain a very high esteem of such
ministers, who continue to act under the dread and
appearance of a successor's utmost displeasure, and
the threats of an enraged faction, whom he is sup-
posed alone to favour, and to be guided entirely in
his judgment of British affairs and persons by their
opinions.
But to return from this digression: the presence
of that infant prince among us could not, I think in
any sort, be inconsistent with the safety of the queen;
he would be in no danger of being corrupted in his
principles, or exposed in his person by vicious com-
panions; he could be at the head of no factious clubs
and cabals, nor be attended by a hired rabble, which
his flatterers might represent as popularity. He
would have none of that impatience which the frailty
of human nature gives to expecting heirs. There
would be no pretence for men to make their court,
by affecting German modes and refinements in dress
or behaviour: nor would there be any occasion of
insinuating to him how much more his levee was
frequented than the antechamber of St. James's.
Add to all this the advantages of being educated in
our religion, laws, language, manners, nature of
government, each so very different from those he
would leave behind. By which likewise he might be
highly useful to his father, if that prince should
happen to survive her majesty.
The late king William, who, after his marriage with
the lady Mary of England, could have no probable
expectation of the crown, and very little even of
being a queen's husband (the duke of York having
a young wife), was no stranger to our language or
manners, and went often to the chapel of his princess;
which I observe the rather, because I could heartily
wish the like disposition were in another court, and
because it may be disagreeable to a prince to take up
new doctrines on a sudden, or speak to his subjects
by an interpreter.
An ill-natured or inquisitive man may still perhaps
desire to press the question further, by asking what
is to be done in case it should so happen that this
malevolent working party at home has credit enough
with the court of Hanover to continue the suspicion,
jealousy, and uneasiness there, against the queen and
her ministry; to make such demands be still insisted
on as are by no means thought proper to be com-
plied with; and in the mean time to stand at arms'
length with her majesty and in close conjunction |
with those who oppose her.
I take the answer to be easy in all contests the
safest way is to put those we dispute with as much
in the wrong as we can. When her majesty shall
have offered such or the like concessions as I have
above mentioned, in order to remove those scruples
artificially raised in the mind of the expectant heir,
and to divide him from that faction by which he is
supposed to have been misled, she has done as much
as any prince can do, and more than any other
would probably do in her case, and will be justified
before God and man whatever be the event.
equitable part of those who now side against the
court will probably be more temperate; and if a
due despatch be made in placing the civil and mili-
tary power in the hands of such as wish well to the
constitution, it cannot be any way for the quiet or
The
interest of a successor to gratify so smull a faction as
will probably then remain at the expense of a much
more numerous and considerable part of his sub-
jects. Neither do I see how the principles of such
a party, either in religion or government, will prove
very agreeable, because I think Luther and Calvin
seem to have differed as much as any two among
the reformers; and because a German prince will
probably be suspicious of those who think they can
never depress the prerogative enough.
But supposing once for all as far as possible that
the elector should utterly refuse to be upon any
terms of confidence with the present ministry and
all others of their principles, as enemies to him and
the succession; nor easy with the queen herself but
upon such conditions as will not be thought con-
sistent with her safety and honour; and continue to
place all his hopes and trust in the discontented
party: I think it were humbly to be wished that
whenever the succession shall take place the alter-
ations intended by the new prince should be made
by himself, and not by his deputies; because I am
of opinion that the clause empowering the successor
to appoint a latent, unlimited number, additional to
the seven regents named in the act, went upon a
supposition that the secret committee would be of
such whose enmity and contrary principles disposed
them to confound the rest. King William, whose
title was much more controverted than that of her
majesty's successor can ever probably be, did for
several years leave the administration of the kingdom
in the hands of lords-justices during the height of a
war, and while the abdicated prince himself was
frequently attempting an invasion; whence one
might imagine that the regents appointed by par-
liament upon the demise of the crown would be
able to keep the peace during an absence of a few
weeks without any colleagues. However, I am
pretty confident that the only reason why a power
was given of choosing dormant viceroys was to take
away all pretence of a necessity to invite over any
of the family here during her majesty's life. So that
I do not well apprehend what arguments the elector
can use to insist upon both.
To conclude: the only way of securing the con-
stitution in church and state, and consequently this
very protestant succession itself, will be by lessening
the power of our domestic adversaries as much as
can possibly consist with the lenity of our govern-
ment; and if this be not speedily done it will be
easy to point where the nation is to fix the blame
for we are well assured that since the account her
majesty received of the cabals, the triumphs, the in-
solent behaviour of the whole faction during her late
illness at Windsor, she has been as willing to see
them deprived of all power to do mischief as any of
her most zealous and loyal subjects can desire.
SOME CONSIDERATIONS UPON THE
CONSEQUENCES HOPED AND
FEARED
FROM THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN
AUGUST 9, 1714.
;
In order to set in a clear light what I have to say
upon this subject, it will be convenient to examine
the state of the nation with reference to the two con-
tending parties; this cannot well be done without
some little retrospection into the five last years of
her late majesty's reign.
CONSIDERATIONS ON THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN.
497
I have it from unquestionable authority that the
duchess of Marlborough's favour began to decline
very soon after the queen's accession to the throne,
and that the earl Godolphin's held not much above
two years longer; although her majesty (no ill con-
cealer of her affections) did not think fit to deprive
them of their power until a long time after.
The duke of Marlborough and the earl of Godol-
phin having fallen early into the interests of the
lower party for certain reasons not seasonable here
to be mentioned (but which may deserve a place in
the history of that reign), they made large steps that
way upon the death of the prince of Denmark,
taking several among the warmest leaders of that
side into the chief employments of state.
Harley, then secretary of state, who disliked their
proceedings and had very near overthrown their
whole scheme, was removed with the utmost indig-
nation; and about the same time sir Simon Har-
court and Mr. St. John, with some others, volun-
tarily gave up their employments.
Mr.
But the queen, who had then a great esteem for
the person and abilities of Mr. Harley (and in pro-
portion of the other two, although at that time not.
equally known to her), was deprived of his service
with some regret; and upon that and other motives
well known at court, began to think herself hardly
used; and several stories ran about, whether true
or false, that her majesty was not always treated
with that duty she might expect.
Meantime the
church party were loud in their complaints; sur-
mising from the virulence of several pamphlets, from
certain bills projected to be brought into parliament,
from endeavours to repeal the sacramental test, from
the avowed principles and free speeches of some
persons in power, and other jealousies needless to
repeat, that ill designs were forming against the re-
ligion established. These fears were all confirmed
by the trial of Sacheverell, which drew the populace,
as one man, into the party against the ministry and
parliament.
The ministry were very suspicious that the queen
had still a reserve of favour for Mr. Harley, which
appeared by a passage that happened some days
after his removal; for the earl of Godolphin's coach
and his happening to meet near Kensington, the
earl, a few hours after, reproached the queen that
she privately admitted Mr. Harley, and was not
without some difficulty undeceived by her majesty's
asseverations to the contrary.
Soon after the doctor's trial this gentleman, by
the queen's command and the intervention of Mrs.
Masham, was brought up the back stairs, and that
princess, spirited by the addresses from all parts,
which showed the inclinations of her subjects to be
very averse from the proceedings in court and par-
liament, was resolved to break the united power of
the Marlborough and Godolphin families, and to
begin this work by taking the disposal of employ-
ments into her own hands, for which an opportunity
happened by the death of the earl of Essex, lieu-
tenant of the Tower, whose employment was given
to the earl Rivers, to the great discontent of the
duke of Marlborough, who intended it for the duke
of Northumberland, then colonel of the Oxford regi-
ment, to which the earl of Hertford was to succeed.
Some time after the chamberlain's staff was disposed
of to the duke of Shrewsbury in the absence and
without the privity of the earl of Godolphin. The
earl of Sunderland's removal followed; and lastly,
that of the high treasurer himself, whose office was
put into commission, whereof Mr. Harley (made at
the same time chancellor of the exchequer) was one.
I need say nothing of other removals, which are well
VOL. 1.
enough known and remembered: let it suffice that
in eight or nine months' time the whole face of the
court was altered, and very few friends of the former
ministry left in any great stations there.
I have good reason to be assured that when the
queen began this change she had no intentions to
carry it so far as the church party expected, and
have since been so impatient to see. For although
she was a true professor of the religion establishea,
yet the first motives to this alteration did not arise
from any dangers she apprehended to that or the
government, but from a desire to get out of the
dominion of some who she thought had kept her
too much and too long in pupilage. She was in her
own nature extremely dilatory and timorous, yet
upon some occasions positive to a great degree.
And when she had got rid of those who had as she
thought given her the most uneasiness, she was in-
clined to stop and entertain a fancy of acting upon
a moderating scheme, whence it was very difficult
to remove her. At the same time I must confess
my belief that this imagination was put into her
head, and made use of as an encouragement to begin
that work, after which her advisers might think it
easier to prevail with her to go as far as they thought
fit. That these were her majesty's dispositions in
that conjuncture may be confirmed by many in-
stances. In the very height of the change she ap-
peared very loth to part with two great officers of
state of the other party, and some whose absence
the new ministers most earnestly wished held in for
above two years after.
Mr. Harley, who acted as first minister before he
had the staff, as he was a lover of gentle measures
and inclined to procrastination, so he could not with
any decency press the queen too much against her
nature, because it would be like running upon the
rock where his predecessor had split. But violent
humours running about in the kingdom and the
new parliament against the principles and persons
of the low-church party gave this minister a very
difficult part to play. The warm members in both
houses, especially among the commons, pressed for a
thorough change, and so did almost all the queen's
new servants, especially after Mr. Harley was made
an earl and high treasurer. He could not in good
policy own his want of power, nor fling the blame
upon his mistress.
And as too much secrecy was
one of his faults, he would often upon these occa-
sions keep his nearest friends in the dark. The
truth is, he had likewise other views, which were
better suited to the maxims of state in general than
to that situation of affairs. By leaving many em-
ployments in the hands of the discontented party
he fell in with the queen's humour; he hoped to
acquire the reputation of lenity; and kept a great
number of expectants in order, who had liberty to
hope while anything remained undisposed of. He
seemed also to think, as other ministers have done,
that, since factions are necessary in such a govern-
ment as ours, it would be prudent not altogether to
lay the present one prostrate, lest another more
plausible and therefore not so easy to grapple with
might arise in its stead.
However, it is certain that a great part of the load
he bore was unjustly laid on him. He had no f
vourites among the Whig party, whom he kept in
upon the score of old friendship or acquaintance;
and he was a greater object of their hatred than all
the rest of the ministry together.
2A
498
AN INQUIRY INTO THE BEHAVIOUR
AN INQUIRY
INTO THE BEHAVIOUR OF
the court at Hanover, in conjunction with the party
at home, which, upon all occasions, publicly disap-
proved their proceedings, excepting only the attainder
THE QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY, of the duke of Ormond, which indeed neither they
WITH RELATION TO THEIR QUARRELS AMONG THEM-
SELVES, AND THE DESIGN CHARGED UPON THEM
OF ALTERING THE SUCCESSION OF THE Crown.
SINCE the death of the queen it was reasonable
enough for me to conclude that I had done with all
public affairs and speculations, besides the scene
and station I am in have reduced my thoughts into
a narrow compass, and being wholly excluded from
any view of favour under the present administra-
tion, upon that invincible reason of having been
in some degree of trust and confidence with the
former, I have not found the transition very difficult
into a private life, for which I am better qualified
both by nature and education.
The reading of and inquiring after news not being
one of my diversions, having always disliked a mixed
and general conversation, which however it fell to
my lot is now in my power to avoid; and being
placed by the duties of my function at a great dis-
tance from the seat of business, I am altogether
ignorant of many common events which happen in
the world; only from the little I know and hear it is
manifest that the hearts of most men are filled with
doubts, fears, and jealousies, or else with hatred and
rage to a degree that there seems to be an end of
all amicable commerce between people of different
parties; and what the consequences of this may be
let those consider who have contributed to the causes,
which I thank God is no concern of mine.
There are two points with reference to the con-
duct of the late ministry much insisted on and little
understood by those who write or talk upon that
subject, wherein I am sufficiently qualified to give
satisfaction, and would gladly do it, because I see
very much weight laid upon each and most men's
opinions of persons and things regulated accordingly.
About two months before the queen's death, having
lost all hopes of any reconcilement between the
treasurer and the rest of the ministry, I retired into
the country to await the issue of that conflict, which
ended, as every one had reason to foresee, in the
earl of Oxford's disgrace, to whom the lord Boling-
broke immediately succeeded as first minister; and
I was told that an earldom and the Garter were in-
tended for him in a fortnight, and the treasurer's
staff against the next session of parliament, of which
I can say nothing certain, being then in Berkshire and
receiving this account from some of his friends. But
all these schemes became soon abortive, by the death
of the queen, which happened in three days after the
earl of Oxford's removal.
Upon this great event I took the first opportunity
of withdrawing to my place of residence, and re-
joiced as much as any man for his majesty's quiet
accession to the throne, to which I then thought,
and it has since appeared indisputable, that the
peace procured by the late ministry had among
other good effects been highly instrumental.
And
I thank God I have been ever since a loyal humble
spectator during all the changes that have happened,
although it were no secret to any man of common.
sagacity that his present majesty's choice of his
servants, whenever he should happen to succeed,
would be determined to those who most opposed the
proceedings during the four last years of his prede-
cessor's reign; and I think there has not since hap-
pened one particular of any moment which the
ministers did not often mention at their tables as
what they certainly expected from the disposition of
nor I, nor I believe any one person in the three
kingdoms, did ever pretend to foresee; and now it is
done, it looks like a dream to those who consider
the nobleness of his birth, the great merits of his
ancestors, and his own; his long unspotted loyalty.
his affability, generosity, and sweetness of nature.
I knew him long and well, and excepting the frailties
of his youth, which had been for some years over,
and that easiness of temper which did sometimes
lead him to follow the judgment of those who had
by many degrees less understanding than himself,
I have not conversed with a more faultless person;
of great justice and charity; a true sense of religion
without ostentation; of undoubted valour, thoroughly
skilled in his trade of a soldier; a quick and ready
apprehension, with a good share of understanding
and a general knowledge in men and history, al-
though under some disadvantage by an invincible
modesty, which however could not but render him
yet more amiable to those who had the honour and
happiness of being thoroughly acquainted with him.
This is a short imperfect character of that great per-
son, the duke of Ormond, who is now attainted for
high treason, and therefore I shall not presume to
offer one syllable in his vindication upon that head
against the decision of a parliament. Yet this I
think may be allowed me to believe, or at least to
hope, that when, by the direct and repeated com-
mands of the queen his mistress, he committed those
faults for which he has now forfeited his country,
his titles, and his fortune, he no more conceived
himself to be acting high treason than he did when
he was wounded and a prisoner at Landen for his
sovereign king William, or when he took and burned
the enemy's fleet at Vigo.
Upon this occasion, although I am sensible it is
an old precept of wisdom to admire at nothing in
human life, yet I consider, at the same time, how
easily some men arrive at the practice of this maxim,
by the help of plain stupidity or ill nature, without
any strain of philosophy; and although the uncer-
tainty of human things be one of the most obvious
reflections in morality, yet such unexpected, sudden,
and signal instances of it as have lately happened
among us are so much out of the usual form that
a wise man may perhaps be allowed to start and look
aside, as at a sudden and violent clap of thunder,
which is much more frequent and more natural.
And here I cannot but lament my own particular
misfortune, who, having singled out three persons
from among the rest of mankind, on whose friend-
ship and protection I might depend, whose conver-
sation I most valued and chiefly confined myself to,
should live to see them all within the compass of a
year accused of high treason; two of them attainted
and in exile, and the third under his trial, whereof
God knows what may be the issue. As my own
heart was free from all treasonable thoughts, so I did
little imagine myself to be perpetually in the com-
pany of traitors. But the fashion of this world passeth
away. Having already said something of the duke
of Ormond, I shall add a little toward the characters
of the other two. It happens to very few men, in
any age or country, to come into the world with so
many advantages of nature and fortune as the late
secretary Bolingbroke: descended from the best
families in England, heir to a great patrimonial es-
tate, of a sound constitution, and a most graceful,
amiable person: but all these, had they been of equal
value, were infinitely inferior in degree to the ac-
OF THE QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY.
499
complishments of his mind, which was adorned with
the choicest gifts that God has yet thought fit to be-
stow upon the children of men; a strong memory, a
clear judgment, a vast range of wit and fancy, a
thorough comprehension, an invincible eloquence,
with a most agreeable elocution. He had well culti-
vated all these talents by travel and study, the latter of
which he seldom omitted even in the midst of his
pleasures, of which he had indeed been too great and
criminal a pursuer; for although he was persuaded
to leave off intemperance in wine, which he did for
some time to such a degree that he seemed rather
abstemious, yet he was said to allow himself other
liberties, which can by no means be reconciled to
religion or morals, whereof I have reason to believe
he began to be sensible. But he was fond of mixing
pleasure and business, and of being esteemed excel-
lent at both; upon which account he had a great
respect for the characters of Alcibiades and Petro-
nius, especially the latter, whom he would be gladly
thought to resemble. His detractors charged him
with some degree of affectation, and perhaps not
altogether without grounds; since it was hardly
possible for a young man, with half the business of
the nation upon him and the applause of the whole,
to escape some tincture of that infirmity. He had
been early bred to business, was a most artful nego-
tiator, and perfectly understood foreign affairs. But
what I have often wondered at in a man of his
temper was his prodigious application whenever he
thought it necessary; for he would plod whole days
and nights like the lowest clerk in an office.
talent of speaking in public, for which he was so very
much celebrated, I know nothing of except from
the informations of others; but understanding men
of both parties have assured me that, in this point,
in their memory and judgment, he was never equalled.
His
The earl of Oxford is a person of as much virtue
as can possibly consist with the love of power; and
his love of power is no greater than what is common
to men of his superior capacities; neither did any
man ever appear to value it less after he had ob-
tained it or exert it with more moderation. He is
the only instance that ever fell within my memory
or observation of a person passing from a private
life, through the several stages of greatness, without
any perceivable impression upon his temper or be-
haviour. As his own birth was illustrious, being
descended from the heirs general of the Veres and
the Mortimers, so he seemed to value that accidental
advantage in himself and others more than it could
pretend to deserve. He abounded in good nature
and good humour, although subject to passion, as I
have heard it affirmed by others and owned by him-
self; which, however, he kept under the strictest go-
vernment, till toward the end of his ministry, when
he began to grow soured and to suspect his friends,
and perhaps thought it not worth his pains to man-
age any longer. He was a great favourer of men of
wit and learning, particularly the former, whom he
caressed without distinction of party, and could not
endure to think that any of them should be his ene-
mies and it was his good fortune that none of them
ever appeared to be so; at least if one may judge by
the libels and pamphlets published against him,
which he frequently read by way of amusement,
with a most unaffected indifference: neither do I
remember ever to have endangered his good opinion
so much as by appearing uneasy when the dealers
in that kind of writing first began to pour out their
scurrilities against me; which he thought was a
weakness altogether inexcusable in a man of virtue
and liberal education. He had the greatest variety
of knowledge that I have anywhere met with, was
;
a perfect master of the learned languages, and well
skilled in divinity. He had a prodigious memory
and a most exact judgment. In drawing up any
state-paper, no man had more proper thoughts, or
put them in so strong and clear a light. Although
his style were not always correct, which, however,
he knew how to mend, yet often to save time he
would leave the smaller alterations to others. I have
heard that he spoke but seldom in parliament, and
then rather with art than eloquence: but no man
equalled him in the knowledge of our constitution
the reputation whereof made him be chosen speaker
to three successive parliaments, which office I have
often heard his enemies allow him to have executed
with universal applause; his sagacity was such that
I could produce very amazing instances of it, if they
were not unseasonable. In all difficulties he imme-
diately found the true point that was to be pursued,
and adhered to it: and one or two others in the
ministry have confessed very often to me that, after
having condemned his opinion, they found him in
the right and themselves in the wrong.
He was
utterly a stranger to fear; and consequently had a
presence of mind upon all emergencies. His liber-
ality and contempt of money were such that he al-
most ruined his estate while he was in employment ;
yet his avarice for the public was so great, that it
neither consisted with the present corruptions of the
age nor the circumstances of the time. He was sel-
dom mistaken in his judgment of men, and therefore
not apt to change a good or ill opinion by the repre-
sentation of others, except toward the end of his
ministry. He was affable and courteous, extremely
easy and agreeable in conversation, and altogether
disengaged; regular in his life, with great appear-
ance of piety, nor ever guilty of any expressions
that could possibly tend to what was indecent or
profane. His imperfections were at least as obvious,
although not so numerous, as his virtues. He had
an air of secrecy in his manner and countenance by
no means proper for a great minister, because it
warns all men to prepare against it.
He often gave
no answer at all, and very seldom a direct one: and
I rather blame this reservedness of temper, because
I have known a very different practice succeed much
better of which, among others, the late earl of Sun-
derland and the present lord Somers, persons of
great abilities, are remarkable instances; who used
to talk in so frank a manner that they seemed to
discover the bottom of their hearts, and by that ap-
pearance of confidence would easily unlock the
breasts of others. But the earl of Oxford pleads, in
excuse of this charge, that he has seldom or never
communicated anything which was of importance to
be concealed wherein he has not been deceived by
the vanity, treachery, or indiscretion of those he dis
covered it to. Another of his imperfections, univer-
sally known and complained of, was procrastination
or delay which was, doubtless, natural to him, al-
though he often bore the blame without the guilt,
and when the remedy was not in his power; for
never were prince and minister better matched than
his sovereign and he upon that article: and, there-
fore, in the disposal of employments, wherein the
queen was very absolute, a year would often pass
before they could come to a determination. I re-
member he was likewise heavily charged with the
common court vice of promising very liberally and
seldom performing; of which, although I cannot al-
together acquit him, yet I am confident his intentions
were generally better than his disappointed solicitors
would believe. It may be likewise said of him that
he certainly did not value, or did not understand,
the art of acquiring friends; having made very few
2K 2
500
AN INQUIRY INTO THE BEHAVIOUR
during the time of his power, and contracted a great
number of enemies. Some of us used to observe
that those whom he talked well of or suffered to be
often near him were not in a situation of much advan-
tage; and that his mentioning others with contempt or
dislike was no hinderance at all to their preferment.
I have dwelt the longer upon this great man's cha-
racter because I have observed it so often mistaken
by the wise reasoners of both parties: besides,
having had the honour for almost four years of a
nearer acquaintance with him than usually happens
to men of my level, and this without the least mer-
cenary obligation, I thought it lay in my power, as I
am sure it is in my will, to represent him to the
world with impartiality and truth.
to a great person of this latter character that a small
infusion of the alderman was necessary to those who
are employed in public affairs. Upon this occasion
I cannot forget a very trifling instance, that, one day
observing the same person to divide a sheet of paper
with a penknife, the sharpness of the instrument
occasioned its moving so irregularly and crooked
that he spoiled the whole sheet; whereupon I ad-
vised him to take example by his clerks, who per-
formed that operation much better with a blunt
piece of ivory, which directed by a little strength
and a steady hand never failed to go right.
But to return from this long digression: about a
fortnight after the queen's death I came to my place
of residence, where I was immediately attacked with
Having often considered the qualities and dispo-heat enough by several of my acquaintance of both
sitions of these two ministers, I am at a loss to think
how it should come to pass that men of exalted
abilities when they are called to public affairs are
generally drawn into inconveniences and misfor-
tunes, which others of ordinary talents avoid;
whereof there appear so many examples, both an-
cient and modern, and of our own as well as other
countries. I cannot think this to have been alto-
gether the effect of envy, as it is usually imputed in
the case of Themistocles, Aristides, Scipio, and
Aristides, Scipio, and
others; and of sir Walter Raleigh, the earls of Cla-
rendon and Strafford, here in England. But I look |
upon it that God, intending the government of a
nation in the several branches and subordinations of
power, has made the science of governing sufficiently
obvious to common capacities: otherwise the world
would be left in a desolate condition, if great affairs
did always require a great genius, whereof the most
fruitful age will hardly produce above three or four
in a nation; among which, princes, who of all other
mortals are the worst educated, have twenty millions
to one against them that they shall not be of the num-
ber; and proportionable odds, for the same reasons,
are against every one of noble birth or great estates.
Accordingly we find that the dullest nations, an-
cient and modern, have not wanted good rules of
policy or persons qualified for administration.
But
I take the infelicity of such extraordinary men to
have been caused by their neglect of common forms,
together with the contempt of little helps and little
hinderances; which is made by Hobbes the defini-
tion of magnanimity: and this contempt, as it cer-
tainly displeases the people in general, so it gives
offence to all with whom such ministers have to
deal: for I never yet knew a minister who was not
earnestly desirous to have it thought that the art of
government was a most profound science; whereas,
it requires no more in reality than diligence, ho-
nesty, and a moderate share of plain natural sense.
And, therefore, men thus qualified may very reason-
ably and justly think that the business of the world
is best brought about by regularity and forms
wherein themselves excel. For I have frequently
observed more causes of discontent arise from the
practice of some refined ministers to act in common
business out of the common road, than from all the
usual topics of displeasure against men in power.
It is the same thing in other scenes of life and
among all societies or communities; where no men
are better trusted, or have more success in business,
than those who, with some honesty and a moderate
portion of understanding, are strict observers of
time, place, and method; and, on the contrary, no-
thing is more apt to expose men to the censure and
obloquy of their colleages and the public than a
contempt or neglect of these circumstances, however
attended with a superior genius and an equal desire
of doing good: which has made me sometimes say
parties, and soon learned that what they objected
was the general sense of the rest. Those of the
church side made me a thousand reproaches upon
the slowness and inactivity of my friends, upon
their foolish quarrels with each other for no visible
cause, and thereby sacrificing the interests of the
church and kingdom to their private piques; and
that they had neglected to cultivate the favour and
good opinion of the court at Hanover. But the
weight of these gentlemen's displeasure fell upon the
earl of Oxford: "That he had acted a trimming
part; was never thoroughly in the interest of the
church, but held separate commerce with the ad-
verse party that, either from his negligence, pro-
crastinating nature, or some sinister end, he had let
slip many opportunities of strengthening the church's
friends; that he undertook more business than he
was equal to, affected a monopoly of power, and
would concert nothing with the rest of the minis-
ters." Many facts were likewise mentioned which
it may not now be very prudent to repeat: I shall
only take notice of one relating to Ireland, where
he kept four bishoprics undisposed of, though often
and most earnestly pressed to have them filled; by
which omission the church interest of that kingdom
in the house of lords is in danger of being irrecover-
ably lost.
Those who discoursed with me after this manner
did at the same time utterly renounce all regard for
the pretender; and mentioned with pleasure the
glorious opportunity then in his majesty's hands of
putting an end to party distinctions for the time to
come; and the only
come; and the only apprehension that seemed to
give them any uneasiness was lest the zeal of the
party in power might not perhaps represent their
loyalty with advantage.
On the other side, the gainers and men in hopes
by the queen's death talked with great freedom in a
very different style: they all directly asserted "That
the whole late ministry were fully determined to
bring in the pretender," although they would some-
times a little demur upon the earl of Oxford; and
by a more modern amendment they charged the
same accusation without any reserve upon the late
queen herself.
"That if her majesty had died but
a month later, our ruin would have been inevitable."
But in that juncture it happened (to use their own
term, which I could never prevail with them to ex-
plain) things were not ripe. "That this accusation
would in a short time infallibly be proved as clear as
the sun at noonday to all the world." And the
consequences naturally following from these posi-
"That the leaders ought to lose their
heads, and all their abettors be utterly stripped of
power and favour."
tions were,
These being the sentiments and discourses of both
parties, tending to load the late ministry with faults
of a very different nature, it may perhaps be either
OF THE QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY.
501
of some use or satisfaction to examine those two
points; that is to say, first, how far these ministers
are answerable to their friends for their neglect, mis-
management, and mutual dissensions; and secondly,
with what justice they are accused by their enemies.
for endeavouring to alter the succession of the
crown in favour of the pretender.
It is true, indeed, I have occasionally done this
already in two several treatises, of which the one is
a history, and the other memoirs of particular
facts, but neither of them fit to see the light at pre-
sent, because they abound with characters freely
drawn and many of them not very amiable, and
therefore intended only for the instructing of the
next age and establishing the reputation of those
who have been useful to their country in the present.
At the same time I take this opportunity of assuring
those who may happen some years hence to read the
history I have written, that the blackest characters
to be met with in it were not drawn with the least
mixture of malice or ill-will, but merely to expose
the odiousness of vice; for I have always held it as
a maxim that ill men are placed beyond the reach of
an historian, who indeed has it in his power to re-
ward virtue but not to punish vice; because I never
yet saw a profligate person who seemed to have the
least regard in what manner his name should be
transmitted to posterity; and I knew a certain lord
[earl of Wharton], not long since dead, who I am very
confident would not have disposed of one single shil-
ling to have had it in his choice whether he should
be represented to future ages as an Atticus or a
Catiline.
However, being firmly resolved, for very material
reasons, to avoid giving the least offence to any
party or person in power, I shall barely set down
some facts and circumstances during the four last
years of queen Anne's reign which at present are
little known; and whereby those of the church-
party who object against the unsteadiness, neglect,
and want of concert in the late ministry, may better
account for their faults. Most of those facts I can
bear witness of myself and have received the rest
from sufficient authority.
It is most certain that when the queen first began
to change her servants it was not from a dislike of
things but of persons, and those persons were a very
small number. To be more particular would be
incidere per ignes. It was the issue of Dr. Sacheve-
rell's trial that encouraged her to proceed so far;
and several of the low-church party, knowing that
her displeasure went no further than against one
single family, did not appear to dislike what was
done; of which I could give some extraordinary in-
stances. But that famous trial had raised such a
spirit in the nation against the parliament that her
majesty thought it necessary to dissolve them, which
I am confident she did not at first intend. Upon
this resolution, delivered by the queen in council in a
more determinate manner than was usual with her,
as I was particularly informed by my lord Somers,
then president, some who were willing to sacri-
fice one or two persons would not sacrifice their
cause, but immediately flew off, and the great officers
of the court and kingdom began to resign their em-
ployments, which the queen suffered most of them
to do with the utmost regret, and which those who
knew her best thought to be real, especially lord
Somers and lord Cowper, for whom she had as great
a personal regard and esteem as her nature was capa-
ble of admitting, particularly for the former. The
new parliament was called during that ferment in
a Of the Four Last Years of Queen Anne.
b Relating to the Change in the Queen's Ministry in 1710.
|
the nation, and a great majority of the church-party
was returned without the least assistance from the
court whether to gain a reputation of impartiality
where they were secure, or, as Mr. Harley's de-
tractors would have it (who was then minister),
from a refinement of his politics, not to suffer upon
the account of I know not what wise reasons too
great an inequality in the balance.
When the parliament met they soon began to dis-
cover more zeal than the queen expected or desired.
She had entertained the notion of forming a mode-
rate or comprehensive scheme, which she maintained
with great firmness, nor would ever depart from un-
tii half a year before her death; but this neither the
house of commons nor the kingdom in general were
then at all inclined to admit, whatever they may have
been in any juncture since; several country mem-
bers, to almost a third part of the house, began im-
mediately to form themselves into a body under a
fantastic name of the October Club.
These daily
pressed the ministry for a thorough change in em-
ployments, and were not put off without jealousy
and discontent. I remember it was then commonly
understood and expected that when the session
ended a general removal would be made; but it
happened otherwise, for not only few or none were
turned out, but much deliberation was used in sup-
plying common vacancies by death. This manner
of proceeding in a prime minister, I confess, appear-
ed to me wholly unaccountable and without exam-
ple; and I was little satisfied with the solution I
had heard and partly knew, "That he acted thus to
keep men at his devotion by letting expectation lie
in common;" for I found the effect did not answer,
and that in the mean time he led so uneasy a life,
by solicitations and pursuits, as no man would en-
dure who had a remedy at hand. About the begin-
ning of his ministry I did, at the request of several
considerable persons, take the liberty of representing
this matter to him. His answer was short and
cold: "That he hoped his friends would trust him;
that he heartily wished none but those who loved
the church and queen were employed; but that
all things could not be done on a sudden." I have
reason to believe that his nearest acquaintance were
then wholly at a loss what to think of his conduct.
He was forced to preserve the opinion of power,
without which he could not act, while in reality he
had little or none; and, besides, he thought it be-
came him to take the burden of reproach upon him-
self rather than lay it upon the queen his mistress,
who was grown very positive, slow, and suspicious,
and from the opinion of having been formerly too
much directed fell into the other extreme and be-
came difficult to be advised. So that few ministers
had ever perhaps a harder game to play, between the
jealousy and discontents of his friends on one side
and the management of the queen's temper on the
other.
There could hardly be a firmer friendship in ap-
pearance than what I observed between those three
great men who were then chiefly trusted; I mean
the lords Oxford, Bolingbroke, and Harcourt. I re-
member, in the infancy of their power, being at the
table of the first, where they were all met, I could
not forbear taking notice of the great affection they
bore to each other; and said, "I would venture to
prophesy that, however inconstant our court had
hitherto been, their ministry would certainly last,
for they had the church, the crown, and the people
entirely on their side: then it happened that the
public good and their private interest had the same
bottom, which is a piece of good fortune that does
not always fall to the share of men in power.
But
502
AN INQUIRY INTO THE BEHAVIOUR
principally because I observed they heartily loved
one another, and I did not see how their kind-
ness
could be disturbed by competition, since
each of them seemed contented with his own dis-
trict; so that, notwithstanding the old maxim which
pronounces court friendships to be of no long dura-
tion, I was confident theirs would last as long as
their lives." But it seems the inventor of that
maxim happened to be a little wiser than I, who
lived to see this friendship first degenerate into in-
difference and suspicion, and thence corrupt into
the greatest animosity and hatred, contrary to all
appearances and much to the discredit of me and
my sagacity. By what degrees and from what
causes their dissensions grew I shall, as far as it may
be safe and convenient, very impartially relate.
When Mr. Harley was stabbed by Guiscard, the
writer of a weekly paper called the Examiner,
taking occasion to reflect on that accident, happened
to let fall an idle circumstance, I know not upon
what grounds, "That the French assassin confessed
he at first intended to have murdered Mr. secretary
St. John; who sitting at too great a distance he
was forced to vent his rage on the other." Whether
the secretary had been thus informed or was con-
tent that others should believe it, I never yet could
learn: but nothing could be more unfortunate than
the tendency of such a report, which by a very un-
fair decision derived the whole merit of that accident
to Mr. St. John, and left Mr. Harley nothing but
the danger and the pain: of both which, although
he had a sufficient share (his physicians being often
under apprehensions for his life), yet I am confident
the time of his illness was a period of more quiet
and ease than he ever enjoyed during the rest of his
administration. This report was not unresented by
Mr. Harley's friends; and the rather because the
fact was directly otherwise, as it soon appeared by
Guiscard's confession.
While that minister lay ill of his wound and his
life in question, the weight of business fell in some
measure upon the secretary, who was not without
ambition; which I confess I have seldom found
among the wants of great men and it was con-
ceived that he had already entertained the thoughts
of being at the head of affairs in case Mr. Harley
should die; although at the same time I must do
justice to Mr. St. John, by repeating what he said
to me with great appearance of concern (and he
was but an ill dissembler), "That if Mr. Harley's
accident should prove fatal it would be an irrepar-
able loss: that as things then stood, his life was
absolutely necessary: that as to himself he was not
master of the scheme by which they were to pro-
ceed, nor had credit enough with the queen; neither
did he see how it would be possible for them in
such a case to wade through the difficulties they
were then under." However, not to be over parti-
cular in so nice a point, thus much is certain, that
some things happened during Mr. Harley's confine-
ment which bred a coldness and jealousy between
those two great men, and these, increasing by
many subsequent accidents, could never be re-
moved.
Upon Mr. Harley's recovery, which was soon fol-
lowed by his promotion to an earldom and the trea-
surer's staff, he was earnestly pressed to go on with
the change of employments, for which his friends.
and the kingdom were very impatient; wherein, I
am confident he was not unwilling to comply, if a
new incident had not put further difficulties in his
way. The queen having thought fit to take the key
from the duchess of Marlborough, it was after some
time given to another great lady, wholly in the in-
terest of the opposite party; who by a most ob-
sequious behaviour, of which she is a perfect
mistress, and the privileges of her place, which gave
her continual access, quickly won so far upon the
affections of her majesty, that she had more personal
credit than all the queen's servants put together. Of
this lady's character and story, having spoken so
much in other papers which may one day see the
light, I shall only observe that, as soon as she was
fixed in her station, the queen, following the course
of her own nature, grew daily much more difficult
and uncomplying. Some weak endeavours were
indeed used to divert her majesty from this choice:
but she continued steady, and pleaded "That, if she
might not have liberty to choose her own servants,
she could not see what advantage she had gotten by
the change of her ministry:" and so little was her
heart set upon what they call a high-church or Tory
administration, that several employments in court
and country and a great majority in all commissions
remained in the hands of those who most opposed
the present proceedings; nor do I remember that
any removal of consequence was made till the winter
following, when the earl of Nottingham was pleased
to prepare and offer a vote in the house of lords
against any peace while Spain continued in the
hands of the Bourbon family. Of this vote the
ministers had early notice; and by casting up the
numbers concluded they should have a majority of
ten to overthrow it. The queen was desired and
promised to speak to a certain lord who was looked
upon as dubious. That lord attended accordingly ;
but heard not a word of the matter from her ma-
jesty, although she afterward owned it was not for
want of remembering, but from perfect indifference.
The treasurer, who trusted to promises, and reckoned
that others would trust to his, was by a most un-
seasonable piece of parsimony grossly deceived, and
the vote carried against the court. The queen had
the curiosity to be present at the debate; and ap-
peared so little displeased at the event, or against
those from whom she might have expected more
compliance, that a person in high station among her
domestics, who that day in her presence had shown
his utmost eloquence (such as it was) against the
ministers, received a particular mark of distinction
and favour, which by his post he could not pretend
to
; and was not removed from her service but with
exceeding difficulty many months after. And it is
certain that this vote could not have been carried if
some persons very near her majesty had not given
assurances where they were proper that it would be
acceptable to the queen; which her behaviour
seemed to confirm.
But when the consequences of this vote were
calmly represented to her-"That the limitation
specified therein had wholly tied up her hands, in
case the recovery of Spain should be found impos-
sible, as it was frequently allowed and owned by
many principal leaders of the opposite party, and
had hitherto been vainly endeavoured either by treaty
or war: that the kingdom was not in a condition
to bear any longer its burden and charge, especially
with annual additions: that other expedients might
possibly be found for preventing France and Spain
from being united under the same king, according
to the intent and letter of the grand alliance: that
the design of this vote was to put her majesty under
the necessity of dissolving the parliament, beginning
all things anew, and placing the administration in
the hands of those whom she had thought fit to lay
aside; and this by sacrificing her present servants
to the rage and vengeance of the former;" with
many other obvious considerations not very proper
OF THE QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY.
503
number of men, except the majority of a house of
commons.
But
at this time to be repeated-her majesty, who was
carnestly bent upon giving peace to her people, con-
sented to fall upon the sole expedient that her own
coldness or the treasurer's thrift and want or con-
tempt of artifice had left her, which was, to create a
number of peers sufficient to turn the balance in
the house of lords. I confess that, in my history of
those times, where this matter among others is
treated with a great deal more liberty, and conse-
quently very unfit for present perusal, I have re-
fined so far as to conjecture that if this were the
treasurer's counsel he might possibly have given it
upon some further views than that of avoiding the
consequences of my lord Nottingham's vote. And
what those were I suppose I may offer without of-
fence. It is known enough that, from the time of
the Revolution to the period I am now speaking of,
the favour of the court was almost perpetually turned
toward those who in the party term are called Whigs,
or the low-church; and this was a space of above 20
years, wherein great additions were made to the
peerage, and the bishops' bench almost wholly re-
newed. But the majority of landed men still re-
taining the old church principles in religion and go-
vernment, notwithstanding all endeavours to con-
vert them, the late king was under many insuperable
difficulties during the course of his reign; elections
seldom succeeding so well as to leave the court side
without strenuous opposition, sufficient to carry
many points against him which he had much at
heart. Upon the late queen's succeeding to the
crown, the church party, who seemed to have grown
more numerous under all discouragements, began
to conceive hopes that her majesty, who had always
professed to favour their principles, would make use
of their service. And indeed upon that foot things
stood for some time; but a new war being resolved
on, three persons who had most credit with her
majesty, and who were then looked upon to be at
least as high principled as could possibly consist
with the protestant succession, having consulted
their friends, began to conceive that the military
spirit was much more vigorous in the other party,
who appeared more keen against France, more san-
guine upon the power and wealth of England, and
better versed in the arts of finding out funds to
which they had been so long used. There were
some other motives for this transition of the minis-
ters at that time, which are more proper for the
history above mentioned, where they are faithfully
recorded. But thus the queen was brought to
govern by what they call a low-church ministry,
which continued for several years; till at length
grown weary of the war, although carried on with
great glory and success, and the nation rising into a
flame (whether justly or not) upon the trial of Dr.
Sacheverell, which in effect was a general muster
of both parties, her majesty, following her own in-
clinations and those of her people, resolved to make
some changes in the ministry and take Mr. Harley
into her councils. This was brought about, as the
charge against that minister says, by the basest in-kingdoms, and therefore fell with readiness enough
sinuations; upon which, being a determination of
parliament, I shall not dispute; although I confess
to have received a very different account of that
matter from a most excellent lady, upon whose ve-
racity I entirely depend; and who being then in
chief confidence with her mistress, must needs know
a particular fact wherein she was immediately con-
cerned and trusted better than any one man
When the new parliament met, whose elections
were left entirely to the people, without the least
influence from the court, it plainly appeared how
far the church party in the nation outnumbered the
other, and especially in the several counties.
in the house of lords, even after some management,
there was but a weak and crazy majority; nor even
could this have been expected if several great lords,
who were always reputed of the other party, had not
only complied but been highly instrumental in the
change; as the dukes of Shrewsbury and Argyle,
the earls of Peterborough, Rivers, and some others,
who certainly came into the queen's measures upon
other motives than that of party. Now since the
government of England cannot go on while the two
houses of parliament are in opposition to each other,
and that the people, whenever they acted freely,
would infallibly return a majority of church-men,
one of these two things was of necessity to be done;
either first to dissolve that parliament and call an-
other of the Whig stamp, by force of a prodigious
expense, which would be neither decent nor safe,
and perhaps at that time hardly feasible, or else to
turn the balance in the house of lords; which, after
the success of lord Nottingham's vote, was not other-
wise to be done than by creating a sufficient number
of peers, in order at once to make the queen and
her people easy upon that article for the rest of her
reign. And this I should be willing to think was
the treasurer's meaning when he advised those ad-
vancements, which, however, I confess I did very
much dislike.
b
or
The duke of Marlborough and the carls of Godolphin and
Sunderland.
There can be no doubt that Mrs. Masham was the conduc-
ress of the whole intrigue.
But if after all I have said my conjecture should
happen to be wrong, yet I do not see how the trea-
surer can justly be blamed for preserving his cause,
his friends, and himself, from unavoidable ruin by
an expedient allowed on all hands to be lawful.
Perhaps he was brought under that necessity by the
want of proper management; but when that neces-
sity appeared he could not act otherwise without
unravelling whatever had been done, which, in the
language of those times, would have been called de-
livering the queen and kingdom back into the hands.
of a faction they had so lately got rid of. And I
believe no minister of any party would, in his cir-
cumstances, have scrupled to take the same step
when the summa rerum was at stake.
Although the queen was brought into this mea-
sure by no other motive than her earnest desire of a
peace, yet the treasurer's friends began to press him
anew for further changes in employments, concluding
from what was past that his credit was great enough
to compass whatever he pleased. But this proved
to be ill reasoning, for the queen had no dislike at
all to the other party (whatever personal piques she
might bear to some among them) further than as
she conceived they were bent upon continuing the
war, to which her majesty resolved to put as speedy
an end as she could with honour and safety to her
into the methods proposed to her for advancing that
great work. But in dispensing her favours she was
extremely cautious and slow, and, after the usual
mistake of those who think they have been often
imposed on, became so very suspicious that she
overshot the mark and erred in the other extreme.
When a person happened to be recommended as
useful for her service or proper to be obliged, per-
haps after a long delay she would consent; but if
the treasurer offered at the same time a warrant or
other instrument to her, already prepared in order
to be signed, because he presumed to reckon upon
504
AN INQUIRY INTO THE BEHAVIOUR
her consent beforehand, she would not, and thus
the affair would sometimes lie for several months
together, although the thing were ever so reasonable,
or even although the public suffered by the delay. So
that this minister had no other remedy but to let her
majesty take her own time, which never failed to be
the very longest that the nature of the thing could
suffer her to defer it.
When this promotion was made, Mr. secretary St.
John, whose merits and pretensions as things then
stood were far superior to any, was purposely left
out, because the court had need of his great abilities
the following session in the house of commons; and
the peace being then upon the anvil, he was best able
to explain and justify the several steps toward it,
which he accordingly did with invincible reason and
universal applause. When the session was over the
queen thought fit to give him a title, and that he
might not lose his rank created him viscount. There
had been an earldom in his name and family lately
extinct, though a barony fell to a collateral branch
in the person of an infant, and the secretary, being
being
of the same house, expected and desired the same
degree. For he reasoned "that making him a vis-
count would be but rigorous justice; and he hoped
he might pretend to some mark of favour." But
the queen could not be prevailed with, because, to
say the truth, he was not much at that time in her
good graces, some women about the court having
infused an opinion into her that he was not so regu-
lar in his life as he ought to be. The secretary laid
the whole blame of this disappointment upon the
earl of Oxford, and freely told me that he would
never depend upon the earl's friendship as long as
he lived, nor have any further commerce with him
than what was necessary for carrying on the public
service. And although I have good reason to be
assured that the treasurer was wholly innocent in
this point, as both himself and lady Masham then
protested to me, yet my lord Bolingbroke thought
the appearances were so strong that I was never
able to bring him over to my opinion.
The divisions between these two great men began
to split the court into parties. Harcourt lord-chan-
cellor, the dukes of Shrewsbury and Argyle, sir Wil-
liam Wyndham, and one or two more, adhered to
the secretary; the rest were either neuters or in-
clined to the treasurer, whether from policy or gra-
titude, although they all agreed to blame and lament
his mysterious and procrastinating manner in acting,
which the state of affairs at that time could very ill
admit, and must have rendered the earl of Oxford
inexcusable if the queen's obstinate temper had not
put him under the necessity of exerting those talents
wherewith it must be confessed his nature was
already too well provided.
dubious management had been the original cause,
began to find and lament the ill consequences of
them in her affairs both at home and abroad, and to
lay the blame upon her treasurer, whose greatest
fault in his whole ministry was too much compliance
with his mistress, by which his measures were often
disconcerted and himself brought under suspicion by
his friends.
This minister had stronger passions than the secre-
tary, but kept them under stricter government. My
lord Bolingbroke was of a nature frank and open,
and as men of great genius are superior to common
rules he seldom gave himself the trouble of dis-
guising or subduing his resentments, although he
was ready enough to forget them. In matters of
state, as the earl was too reserved, so perhaps the
other was too free, not from any incontinency of
talk, but from the mere contempt of multiplying
secrets, although the graver counsellors imputed this
liberty of speech to vanity or lightness. And upon
the whole, no two men could differ more in their
diversions, their studies, their ways of transacting
business, their choice of company, or manner of
conversation.
The queen, who was well informed of these ani-
mosities among her servants, of which her own
I am very confident that this alteration in the
queen's temper toward the earl of Oxford could never
have appeared if he had not thought fit to make
one step in politics which I have not been able to
apprehend. When the queen first thought of making
a change among her servants, after Dr. Sacheverell's
trial, my lady Masham was very much heard and
trusted upon that point, and it was by her interven-
tion Mr. Harley was admitted into her majesty's
presence. That lady was then in high favour with
her mistress, which I believe the earl was not so
very sedulous to cultivate or preserve as if he had it
much at heart, nor was altogether sorry when he saw
it under some degree of declination. The reasons
for this must be drawn from the common nature of
mankind and the incompatibility of power, but the
juncture was not favourable for such a refinement,
because it was early known to all who had but
looked into the court that this lady must have a
successor who, upon pique and principle, would do
all in her power to obstruct his proceedings.
lady Masham was a person of a plain sound under-
standing, of great truth and sincerity, without the
least mixture of falsehood or disguise; of an honest
boldness and courage superior to her sex; firm and
disinterested in her friendship; and full of love,
duty, and veneration for the queen her mistress;
talents as seldom found or sought for in a court, as
unlikely to thrive while they are there; so that
nothing could then be more unfortunate to the
public than a coldness between this lady and the
first minister; nor a greater mistake in the latter
than to suffer or connive at the lessening of her
credit, which he quickly saw removed very disadvan-
tageously to another object [the duchess of Somer-
set], and wanted the effects of when his own was
sunk in the only domestic affair for which I ever
knew him under any concern.
My
While the queen's favour to the earl was thus gra-
dually lessening, the breaches between him and his
friends grew every day wider, which he looked upon
with great indifference, and seemed to have his
thoughts only turned upon finding out some proper
opportunity for delivering up his staff, but this her
majesty would not then admit, because indeed it
was not easy to determine who should succeed him.
In the midst of these dispositions at court, the
queen fell dangerously sick at Windsor about Christ-
mas, 1713. It was confidently reported in town that
she was dead; and the heads of the expecting party
were said to have various meetings thereupon, and a
great hurrying of chairs and coaches to and from the
earl of Wharton's house. Whether this were true.
or not, yet thus much is certain, that the expressions
of joy appeared very frequent and loud among many
of that party, which proceeding men of form did not
allow to be altogether decent.
decent. A messenger was
immediately despatched with an account of the
queen's illness to the treasurer, who was then in
town, and in order to stop the report of her death
appeared next day abroad in his chariot with a pair
of horses, and did not go down to Windsor till his
usual time. Upon his arrival there the danger was
over, but not the fright, which still sat on every-
body's face, and the account given of the confusion
and distraction the whole court had been under is
OF THE QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY.
505
hardly to be conceived, upon which the treasurer
said to me, "Whenever anything ails the queen
these people are out of their wits, and yet they are
so thoughtless that as soon as she is well they act as
if she were immortal.” I had sufficient reason both
before and since to allow his observation to be true,
and that some share of it might with justice be ap-
plied to himself.
The queen had early notice of this behaviour
among the discontented leaders during her illness.
It was indeed an affair of such a nature as required
no aggravation, which however would not have been
wanting, the women of both parties who then at-
tended her majesty being well disposed to represent
it in the strongest light. The result was, that the
queen immediately laid aside all her schemes and
visions of reconciling the two opposite interests; and
entered upon a firm resolution of adhering to the
old English principles from an opinion that the
adverse party waited impatiently for her death, upon
views little consisting (as the language and opinion
went then) with the safety of the constitution either
in church or state. She therefore determined to
fall into all just and proper methods that her minis-
ters should advise her to, for the preservation and
continuance of both. This I was quickly assured
of, not only by the lord-chancellor and lord Boling-
broke, but by the treasurer himself.
ment he had received from his friends, he said, "he
knew not why he should do other people's work.'
The truth is, that except the duke, my lord Trevor,
and Mr. secretary Bromley, I could not find he had
one friend left of any consequence in her majesty's
service. The lord-chancellor [Harcourt], lord
Bolingbroke, and lady Masham, openly declared
against him; to whom were joined the bishop of
Rochester [Dr. Atterbury] and some others. Dart-
mouth, then privy-seal, and Poulett, lord-steward,
stood neuters. The duke of Shrewsbury hated the
treasurer, but sacrificed all resentments to ease,
profit, and power, and was then in Ireland, acting
a part directly opposite to the court, which he had
sagacity enough to foresee might quickly turn to ac-
count, so that the earl of Oxford stood almost single
and every day found a visible declension of the
queen's favour toward him; which he took but little
care to redress, desiring nothing so much as leave to
deliver up his staff; which, however, as conjunctures
then stood, he was not able to obtain, his adversa-
ries not having determined where to place it; neither
was it, upon several accounts, a work so proper to be
done while the parliament sat, where the ministry
had already lost too much reputation, and especially
in the house of lords. By what I could gather from
several discourses with the treasurer, it was not very
difficult to find out how he reasoned with himself.
The church party continued violently bent to have
some necessary removals made in the guards, as well
as a further change in the civil employments through
the kingdom. All the great officers about the court
or in her majesty's service, except the duke of
Shrewsbury and one or two more, were in the same
opinion. The queen herself, since her last illness at
Windsor, had the like dispositions; and I think it
may appear from several passages already mentioned
that the blame of those delays so often complained
of did not originally lie at the earl of Oxford's door.
But the state of things was very much changed by
several incidents. The chancellor, lord Bolingbroke,
and lady Masham, had entirely forsaken him upon
suspicions I have mentioned before: which, although
they were founded on mistake, yet he never would
be at the pains to clear. And as he first lessened
his confidence with the queen by pressing her upon
those very points for which his friends accused him
that they were not performed, so upon her change of
sentiments after her recovery he lost all favour and
credit with her for not seconding those new resolu-
tions from which she had formerly been so averse.
Besides, he knew as well as all others who were near
the court that it was hardly possible the queen
could survive many months; in which case he must
of necessity bring upon him the odium and vengeance
of the successor, and of that party which must then
be predominant, who would quickly unravel all he
had done; or if her majesty should hold out longer
than it was reasonable to expect, yet, after having
done a work that must procure him many new ene-
mies, he could expect nothing but to be discharged
in displeasure. Upon these reasons he continued
his excuses to the duke of Ormond for not advancing
the money; and during the six last months of his
ministry would enter into no affairs but what imme-
diately concerned the business of his office. That
whole period was nothing else but a scene of mur-
muring and discontent, quarrel and misunderstand-
ing, animosity and hatred, between him and his
former friends. In the mean time the queen's coun-
tenance was wholly changed toward him; she com-
plained of his silence and sullenness, and in return
gave him every day fresh instances of neglect or
I confess myself to have been then thoroughly
persuaded that this incident would perfectly reconcile
the ministers, by uniting them in pursing one gene-
ral interest; and considering no further than what
was fittest to be done, I could not easily foresee any
objections or difficulties that the earl of Oxford would
make. I had for some time endeavoured to cultivate
the strictest friendship between him and the general
[the duke of Ormond], by telling both of them
(which happened to be the truth) how kindly they
spoke of each other; and by convincing the latter of
what advantage such a union must be to her majesty's
service. There was an affair upon which all our
friends laid a more than ordinary weight. Among
the horse and foot guards appointed to attend on the
queen's person, several officers took every occasion,
with great freedom and bitterness of speech, to revile
the ministry upon the subject of the peace and the pre-
tender, not without many gross expressions against
the queen herself; such as I suppose will hardly be
thought on or attempted, but certainly not suffered,
under the present powers; which proceeding, beside
the indignity, begot an opinion that her majesty's
person might be better guarded than by such keepers,
who, after attending at court or at the levee of the
general or first minister, adjourned to publish their
disaffection in coffeehouses and gaming ordinaries,
without any regard to decency or truth. It was pro-
posed that ten or a dozen of the least discreet among
these gentlemen should be obliged to sell their posts
in the guards; and that two or three who had gone
the greatest lengths should have a price fixed for
their commissions somewhat below the exorbitant
rate usually demanded for a few years past. The
duke of Ormond desired but ten thousand pounds
to make the matter easy to those officers who were
to succeed; which sum his grace told me the trea-
surer had given him encouragement to expect, al-
though he pleaded present want of money; and I
cannot but say that, having often at the duke's desire
pressed this minister to advance the money, he gave
me such answers as made me think he really intended
it. But I was quickly undeceived; for expostulating
some days after with him upon the same subject,
after great expressions of esteem and friendship for
the duke of Ormond, and mentioning some ill treat-displeasure.
506
AN INQUIRY INTO THE BEHAVIOUR
The original of this quarrel among the ministers,
which had been attended with so many ill conse-
quences, began first between the treasurer and lord
Bolingbroke, from the causes and incidents I have
already mentioned, and might very probably have
been prevented if the treasurer had dealt with less
reserve or the lord Bolingbroke had put that confi-
dence in him which so sincere a friend might reason-
ably have expected. Neither, perhaps, would a re-
concilement have been an affair of much difficulty,
if their friends on both sides had not too much ob-
served the common prudential forms of not caring to
intermeddle; which, together with the addition of a
shrug, was the constant answer I received from most
of them whenever I pressed them upon the subject.
I cannot tell whether my lord Trevor may be excepted
because I had little acquaintance with him, although
I am inclined to the negative. Mr. Prior, who was
much loved and esteemed by them both, as he well
deserved, upon account of every virtue that can
qualify a man for private conversation, might have
been the properest person for such a work, if he
could have thought it to consist with the prudence
of a courtier; but, however, he was absent in France
at those junctures when it was chiefly necessary.
And to say the truth, most persons had so avowedly
declared themselves on one side or the other, that
these two great men had hardly a common friend
left except myself. I had ever been treated with
great kindness by them both; and I conceived that
what I wanted in weight and credit might be made
up with sincerity and freedom. The former they
never doubted, and the latter they had constant ex-
perience of: I had managed between them for almost
two years, and their candour was so great that they
had not the least jealousy or suspicion of me. And
I thought I had done wonders when, upon the
queen's being last at Windsor, I put them in a coach
to go thither by appointment, without other company,
where they would have four hours' time to come to
a good understanding; but in two days after I learned
from them both that nothing was done.
There had been three bishoprics for some time
vacant in Ireland; and I had prevailed on the earl
of Oxford that one of them should be divided. Ac-
cordingly four divines of that kingdom were named
to the queen and approved by her; but upon some
difficulties not worth mentioning, the queen's man-
datory letters to Ireland had been delayed. I pressed
the treasurer every week while her majesty was at
Windsor, and every day after her return, to finish
this affair, as a point of great consequence to the
church in that kingdom; and growing at length im-
patient of so many excuses I fell into some passion;
when his lordship freely told me "that he had been
earnest with the queen upon that matter about ten
times the last fortnight, but without effect, and that
he found his credit wholly at an end." This happened
about eleven weeks before the queen died; and two
nights after, sitting with him and lord Bolingbroke,
in lady Masham's lodgings at St. James's for some
hours, I told the treasurer "that, having despaired
of any reconciliation between them, I had only stayed
some time longer to forward the disposal of those
bishoprics in Ireland; which since his lordship told
me was out of his power, I now resolved to retire
immediately, as from an evil I could neither help to
redress nor endure the sight of: that before I left
them, I desired they would answer me two questions
first, whether these mischiefs might not be remedied
in two minutes? and secondly, whether upon the
present foot the ministry would not be infallibly
ruined in two months?" Lord Bolingbroke answered
to each question in the affirmative, and approved of
my resolution to retire; but the treasurer after his
manner evaded both, and only desired me to dine
with him next day. However, I immediately went
down to a friend in Berkshire to await the issue,
which ended in the removal of my lord-treasurer,
and three days after in her majesty's death.
Thus I have with some pains recollected several
passages, which I thought were most material for the
satisfaction of those who appear so much at a loss
upon the unaccountable quarrels of the late ministry.
For indeed it looked like a riddle to see persons of
great and undisputed abilities, called by the queen
to her service in the place of others with whose pro-
ceedings she was disgusted, and with great satisfac-
tion to the clergy, the landed interest, and body
the people, running on a sudden into such a common
beaten court track of ruin, by divisions among them-
selves; not only without a visible cause but with
the strongest appearances to the contrary, and with-
out any refuge to the usual excuse of evil instruments
or cunning adversaries, to blow the coals of dissen-
sion for the work was entirely their own.
:
of
I impute the cause of these misfortunes to the
queen; who, from the variety of hands she had em-
ployed and reasonings she had heard since her
coming to the crown, was grown very fond of moder-
ating schemes, which, as things then stood, were by
no means reducible to practice. She had likewise a
good share of that adherence to her own opinions
which is usually charged upon her sex. And lastly
(as I have before observed), having received some
hints that she had formerly been too much governed,
she grew very difficult to be advised.
The next in fault was the treasurer, who, not
being able to influence the queen in many points,
with relation to party, which his friends and the
kingdom seemed to have much at heart, would needs
take all the blame on himself, from a known prin-
ciple of state prudence "That a first minister must
always preserve the reputation of power." But I
have ever thought that there are few maxims in po-
litics which, at some conjectures, may not be very
liable to an exception. The queen was by no means
inclined to make many changes in employments;
she was positive in her nature and extremely given
to delay. And surely these were no proper qualities
for a chief minister to personate toward his nearest
friends, who were brought into employment upon
very different views and promises. Nor could any
reputation of power be worth preserving at the ex-
pense of bringing sincerity into question. I remem-
ber, upon a Saturday, when the ministers and one
or two friends of the treasurer constantly met to dine
at his house, one of the company attacked him very
warmly, on account that a certain lord who perpetu-
ally opposed the queen's measures was not dismissed
from a great employment, which, beside other ad-
vantages, gave that lord the power of choosing se-
veral members of parliament. The treasurer evaded
the matter with his usual answer, "That this was
whipping-day." Upon which the secretary Boling-
broke, turning to me, said "It was a strange thing
that my lord Oxford would not be so kind to his
friends and so just to his own innocence as to vin-
dicate himself where he had no blame; for to his
knowledge and the chancellor's (who was then also
present) the treasurer had frequently and earnestly
moved the queen upon that very point without
effect." Whereupon this minister, finding himself
pressed so far, told the company "That he had at
last prevailed with her majesty, and the thing would
be done in two days" which followed accordingly.
I mention this fact as an instance of the earl of Ox-
a The duke of Somerset, master of the horse.
OF THE QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY.
507
ford's disposition to preserve some reputation of
power in himself, and remove all blame from the
queen; and this to my particular knowledge was a
frequent case; but how far justifiable in point of
How-
prudence I have already given my opinion.
ever, the treasurer's friends were yet much more to
blame than himself: he had abundance of merit
with them all; not only upon account of the public,
the whole change of the ministry having been ef-
fected, without any intervention of theirs, by him
and lady Masham; but likewise from the conse-
quence of that change, whereby the greatest employ-
ments of the kingdom were divided among them;
and therefore in common justice, as well as prudence,
they ought to have been more indulgent to his real
failings, rather than suspect him of imaginary ones,
as they often did, through ignorance, refinement, or
mistake: and I mention it to the honour of the se-
cretary Bolingbroke, as well as of the treasurer, that,
having myself upon many occasions joined with the
former in quarrelling with the earl's conduct upon
certain points, the secretary would in a little time
after frankly own that he was altogether mistaken.
Lastly, I cannot excuse the remissness of those
whose business it should have been, as it certainly
was their interest, to have interposed their good
offices for healing this unhappy breach among the
ministers but of this I have already spoken.
:
CHAPTER II.
Written about a year after.
HAVING proceeded thus far, I thought it would be
unnecessary to say anything upon the other head,
relating to the design of bringing in the pretender:
for upon the earl of Oxford's impeachment, the gen-
tlemen of the prevailing side assured me "That
the whole mystery would be soon laid open to the
world" and were ready to place the merit of their
cause upon that issue. This discovery we all ex-
pected from the report of the secret committee: but
when that treatise appeared (whoever were the com-
pilers) we found it to be rather the work of a luxu-
riant fancy, an absolute state pamphlet arguing for
a cause, than a dry recital of facts or a transcript of
letters and for what related to the pretender, the
authors contented themselves with informing the
public that the whole intrigue was privately carried
on in personal treaties between the earl of Oxford
and the abbé Gualtier; which must needs be a doc-
trine hard of digestion to those who have the least
knowledge either of the earl or the abbé, or upon
what foot the latter stood at that time with the Eng-
lish ministry: I conceive that whoever is at distance
enough to be out of fear either of a vote or a mes-
senger, will be as easily brought to believe all the
popish legends together. And to make such an as-
sertion in a public report, delivered to the house of
commons, without the least attempt to prove it, will
some time or other be reckoned such a strain upon
truth and probability as is hard to be equalled in a
Spanish romance. I think it will be allowed that
the articles of high treason drawn up against the
earl were not altogether founded upon the report;
or at least, that those important hints about bring-
ing in the pretender were more proper materials to
furnish out a pamphlet than an impeachment; since
this accusation has no part even among the high
crimes and misdemeanors.
But notwithstanding all this and that the earl of
Oxford, after two years' residence in the tower, was
at length dismissed without any trial, yet the re-
proach still went on that the queen's last ministry
in concert with their mistress were deeply engaged
in a design to set the pretender upon the throne.
The cultivating of which accusation I impute to the
great goodness of those in power, who are so gra-
cious to assign a reason, or at least give a counte-
nance, for that sudden and universal sweep they
thought fit to make on their first appearance: where-
as they might as well have spared that ceremony, by
a short recourse to the royal prerogative, which gives
every prince a liberty of choosing what servants he will,
There are two points which I believe myself able
to make out. First, that neither the late queen no
her ministers did ever entertain a design of bringing
in the pretender during her majesty's life, or that he
should succeed after her decease.
Secondly, that, if they conceived such a design, it
was absolutely necessary to prosecute it from the
first year of their ministry; because, for at least a
year before the queen's death, it was impossible to
have put such a design in execution.
I must premise with three circumstances, which
have a great effect on me, and must have the like
upon those among my friends who have any tole-
rable opinion of my veracity; and it is only to those
that I offer them.
I remember, during the late treaty of peace, dis-
coursing at several times with some very eminent
persons of the opposite side, with whom I had long
acquaintance; I asked them seriously "Whether
they or any of their friends did in earnest believe or
suspect the queen or the ministry to have any fa-
vourable regards toward the pretender ?" They all
confessed for themselves "That they believed no-
thing of the matter:" and particularly, a person at
present in great employment said to me with much
frankness, "You set up the church and Sacheverell
against us; and we set up trade and the pretender
against you."
;
The second point I would observe is this, that
during the course of the late ministry, upon occasion
of the libels every day thrown about, I had the curio-
sity to ask almost every person in great employment
"Whether they knew or had heard of any one par-
ticular man (except those who professed to be non-
jurors) that discovered the least inclination toward
the pretender ?" And the whole number they could
muster up did not amount to above five or six
among which, one was a certain old lord lately
dead, and one a private gentleman of little con-
sequence and of a broken fortune: yet I do not
believe myself to have omitted any one great man
that came in my way, except the duke of Bucking-
ham, in whose company I never was above once or
twice at most. I am therefore as confident as a man
can be of any truth which will not admit a demon-
stration, that upon the queen's death, if we except
papists and nonjurors, there could not be five hun-
dred persons in England of all ranks who had any
thoughts of the pretender; and among these not six
of any quality or consequence: but how it has come
to pass that several millions are said to have since
changed their sentiments, it shall not be my part to
inquire.
The last point is of the same strain; and I offer
it, like the two former, to convince only those who
are willing to believe me on my own word: that
having been for the space of almost four years very
nearly and perpetually conversant with those who
had the greatest share of power, and this in their
times of leisure as well as business, I could never
hear one single word let fall in favour of the pre-
tender, although I was curious enough to observe
in a particular manner what passed upon that sub-
ject. And I cannot but think that, if such an affair
had been in agitation, I must have had either very
508
AN INQUIRY INTO THE BEHAVIOUR
I am forced to repeat what I have before observed,
that it was with the utmost difficulty she could be
ever persuaded to dismiss any person upon the score
of party; and that she drove her ministers into the
greatest distress, upon my lord Nottingham's vote
against any peace without Spain, for want of speak-
bad luck or a very small share of common under-
standing not to have discovered some grounds at
least for suspicion: because I never yet knew a
minister of state, or indeed any other man, so great
a master of secrecy as to be able among those he
nearly conversed with wholly to conceal his opi-
nions, however he may cover his designs. This I saying to one or two depending lords, although with
upon a supposition that they would have held on the
mask always before me, which, however, I have no
reason to believe. And I confess it is with the ex-
pense of some patience that I hear this matter sum-
marily determined by those who had no advantages
of knowing anything that passed, otherwise than
what they found in a libel or a coffeehouse, or at
best from general reasonings built upon mistaken
facts. Now, although what I have hitherto said
upon this point can have no influence further than
my own personal credit reaches, yet I confess I
shall never be brought to change my opinion till
some one who had more opportunities than I will
be able to produce any single particular from the
letters, the discourses, or the actions of those minis-
ters, as a proof of what they allege; which has not
yet been attempted or pretended.
But I believe there may be several arguments of
another nature produced, which can make it very
evident to those who will hear reason that the
queen's ministers never had it in their thoughts to
alter the succession of the crown.
For first, when her majesty had determined to
change her servants, it is very well known that
those whom she appointed to succeed them were
generally accounted favourers of what is called the
low-church party; not only my lords Oxford, Bo-
lingbroke, and Harcourt, but a great majority of the
rest: among which I can immediately name the
dukes of Shrewsbury, Newcastle, and Argyle, the
carls of Peterborough, Rivers, Strafford, Ilay, and
Orrery, the lords Mansel and Masham, with several
others whom I cannot at present recollect. Whereas,
of the other party, the dukes of Ormond and Buck-
ingham, and the earl of Dartmouth, were the only
persons introduced at first, and very few afterward:
which I suppose will clearly evince that the bringing
in of the pretender was not the original scheme of
such ministers, and that they were by no means
proper instruments for such a work.
And whoever knew anything of the queen's dis-
position must believe she had no inclinations at all
She was highly and
in favour of the pretender.
publicly displeased with my lord Bolingbroke, be-
cause he was seen under the same roof with that
person at an opera when his lordship was sent to
France upon some difficulties about the peace. Her
majesty said "That he ought immediately to have
withdrawn upon the appearance of the other:"
wherein, to speak with freedom, I think her judg-
ment was a little mistaken. And at her toilet among
her women, when mention happened to be made of
the chevalier, she would frequently let fall expres-
sions of such a nature as made it manifest how little
she deserved those reproaches which had been cast
on her since her death upon that account.
Besides, I have already said that her majesty
began those changes at court for no other cause than
her personal displeasure against a certain family and
their allies; and from the hope she had to obtain a
peace by the removal of some whose interest it was
to obstruct it: that when the former chancellor,
president, and others came to her, determined to
deliver up their employments, she pressed them
somewhat more than it became her dignity to con-
tinue in their stations; of which I suppose my lord
Cowper is yet a living witness.
:
the last danger of breaking the measures she was
most fond of toward settling the repose of Europe.
She had besides, upon the removal of the duchess of
Marlborough, chosen another great lady to succeed
[the duchess of Somerset], who quickly grew into
higher credit than all her ministers together: a lady
openly professing the utmost aversion for the per-
sons, the principles, and measures of those who were
then in power, and excelling all even of her own
sex in every art of insinuation and this her majesty
thought fit to do, in opposition to the strongest re-
presentations that could possibly be made to her of
the inconveniences which would ensue.
Her only
objection against several clergymen recommended
to her for promotions in the church was their being
too violent in party. And a lady in high favour
with her has frequently assured me, "That when-
ever she moved the queen to discard some persons
who upon all occasions with great virulence opposed
the court, her majesty would constantly refuse, and
at the same time condemn her for too much party zeal.'
""
But besides all this, there never was a more stale
or antiquated cause than that of the pretender at the
time when her majesty chose her last ministers, who
were most of them children or youths when king
James II. abdicated. They found a prince upon
the throne before they were of years to trouble them-
selves with speculations upon government; and
consequently could have no scruples of conscience
in submitting to the present powers, since they
hardly remembered any other. And truly this was
in general the case of the whole kingdom; for the
adherents of king James II. were all either dead or
in exile or sunk in obscurity, laden with years and
want; so that if any guilt were contracted by the
revolution, it was generally understood that our an-
And I am con-
cestors were only to answer for it.
fident (with an exception to professed nonjurors)
there was not one man in ten thousand through
England who had other sentiments. Nor can the
contrary opinion be defended by arguing the prodi-
gious disaffection at present; because the same
thing has happened before from the same cause,
our own country, and within the memory of man,
although not with the same event.
in
But such a disaffection could hardly have been
raised against an absent prince who was only in ex-
pectation of the throne; and indeed I cannot but
reckon it as a very strong argument for the good
disposition, both in the ministry and kingdom, to-
ward the house of Hanover, that during my lord
Oxford's administration there was never thrown
out the least reflection against that illustrious house
in any libel or pamphlet; which would hardly have
happened if the small party writers could have
thought that by such a performance they would have
made their court to those in power, and which
would certainly have been a very useful preliminary
if any attempt had been intended toward altering
the succession to the crown. But however, to say
the truth, invectives against the absent and with
whom we have nothing to do, although they may
render persons little and contemptible, can hardly
make them odious; for hatred is produced by mo-
tives of a very different nature, as experience has
shown. And although politicians affirm it more
eligible for a prince to be hated than despised, yet
OF THE QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY.
509
that maxim is better calculated for an absolute mo-
narchy than for the climate of England. But I am
sensible this is a digression; therefore I return.
The treaties made by her majesty with France
and Spain were calculated in several points directly
against the pretender, as he has now found to his cost
and as it is manifest to all the world. Neither could
anything be more superficial than the politics of
those who could be brought to think that the regent
of France would ever engage in measures against
the present king of England; and how the grimace
of an ambassador's taking or not taking his public
character, as in the case of the earl of Stair, should
serve so long for an amusement, cannot be suffi-
ciently wondered at. What can be plainer than
that the chief interest of the duke of Orleans is
woven and twisted with that of king George; and
this, whether it shall be thought convenient to suffer
the young king of France to live longer or not? For
in the second case, the regent perfectly agrees with our
present king in this particular circumstance, that
the whole order of succession has been broken for
his sake; by which means he likewise will be en-
cumbered with a pretender, and thereby engaged,
upon the strongest motives, to prevent the union of
France and Spain under one monarch.
And even
in the other case, the chance of a boy's life and his
leaving heirs male of his body is so dubious, that the
hopes of a crown to the regent or his children will
certainly keep that prince as long as his power con-
tinues very firm in his alliance with England.
And as this design was originally intended and
avowed by the queen's ministers in their treaties.
with France and Spain, so the events have fully an-
swered in every particular. The present king suc-
ceeded to these crowns with as hearty and universal
a disposition of the people as could possibly consist
with the grief for the loss of so gracious and excel-
lent a princess as her late majesty. The parliament
was most unanimous in doing everything that could
endear them to a new monarch. The general peace
did entirely put an end to any design which France
or Spain might probably have laid to make a diver-
sion by an invasion upon Scotland, with the pre-
tender at the head, in case her majesty had happened
to die during the course of the war; and upon the
death of the late French king, the duke of Orleans
fell immediately into the strictest measures with
England; as the queen and her ministers easily
foresaw it would be necessary for him to do, from
every reason that could regard his own interest. If
the queen had died but a short time before the
peace, and either of the two great powers engaged
against us had thought fit to have thrown some
troops into Scotland, although it could not have
been a very agreeable circumstance to a successor
and a stranger, yet the universal inclinations at that
time in England toward the house of Hanover
would in all probability have prevented the conse-
quences of such au enterprise. But on the other
side, if the war had continued a year longer than
her majesty's life and the same causes had been
applied to produce the same effects upon the affec-
tions of the people, the issue must inevitably have
been either a long and bloody civil war or a sudden
revolution. So that no incident could have arrived
more effectual to fortify the present king's title and
secure his possession than that very peace so much
exploded by one party and so justly celebrated by
the other; in continuing to declare which opinions
under the present situation of things it is not very
improbable that they may both be in jest.
But if any articles of that peace were likely to
endanger the protestant succession, how could it
come to pass that the Dutch, who were guarantees
of that succession and valued for zealous defenders
of it, should be so ready with their offers to comply
with every article; and this for no greater a reward
than a share in the assiento trade, which the op-
posers of peace represented to be only a trifle? That
the fact is true I appeal to M. de Buys, who upon
some difficulties the ministry were under by the
earl of Nottingham's vote against any peace while
Spain continued in the Bourbon family, undertook
to make that matter easy by getting a full approba-
tion from the States, his masters, of all her majesty's
proceedings, provided they might be sharers in that
trade. I can add this further, that some months
after the conclusion of the peace and amid all the
appearing discontents of the Dutch, a gentleman
who had long resided in Holland and was occasion-
ally employed by the ministers here assured me
"That he had power from the pensionary to treat
with the earl of Oxford about sending hither an ex-
traordinary embassy from Holland, to declare that
the States were fully satisfied with the whole plan
of the peace, upon certain conditions which were
easy and honourable and such as had no relation at
all to the pretender." How this happened to fail I
never inquired, nor had any discourse about it with
those in power; for then their affairs were growing
desperate, by the earl of Oxford's declination in the
queen's favour; both which became so public, as
well as her majesty's bad state of health, that I sup-
pose those circumstances might easily cool the
Dutch politicians in that pursuit.
I remember to have heard it objected against the
last ministry, as an instance of their inclination to-
ward the pretender, "That they were careless in
cultivating a good correspondence with the house of
Hanover." And, on the other side, I know very
well what continual pains were employed to satisfy
and inform the elector and his ministers in every
step taken by her majesty, and what offers were
made to his highness for any further securities of
the succession in him and his family that could con-
sist with the honour and safety of the queen. To
this purpose were all the instructions given to earl
Rivers, Mr. Thomas Harley, lord Clarendon, and
some others. But all endeavours were rendered
abortive by a foolish circumstance, which has often
made me remember the common observation of the
greatest events depending frequently upon the
lowest, vilest, and obscurest causes; and this is
never more verified than in courts and the issues of
public affairs, whereof I could produce from my own
knowledge and observation three or four very sur-
prising instances. I have seen an old bed-maker,
by officiously going to one door when gratitude as
well as common sense should have sent her to ano-
ther, become the instrument of putting the nation to
the expense of some thousand lives and several mil-
lions of money. I have known as great an event
from the stupidity or wilfulness of a beggarly Dutch-
man, who lingered on purpose half an hour at a
visit when he had promised to be somewhere else.
Of no greater dignity was that circumstance which
rendered ineffectual all endeavours of the late minis-
try to establish themselves in the good graces of the
court of Hanover, as I shall particularly relate in
another work. It may suffice to hint at present that
a delay in conveying a very inconsiderable sum to a
very inconsiderable French vagrant gave the op-
portunity to a more industrious party of corrupting
a Carew lord Hunsdon, born and bred in Holland.
b Robethon, then at Hanover, but in the service of some
other German priuce, it is not known how, got into some credit
with the elector.
510
AN INQUIRY INTO THE BEHAVIOUR
that channel through which all the ideas of the dis-
positions and designs of the queen, the ministers,
and the whole British nation, were conveyed.
The second point which I conceived myself able
to make out is this, that if the queen's ministers had,
with or without the knowledge of their mistress, en-
tertained any thoughts of altering the succession in
favour of the pretender, it was absolutely necessary
for them to have begun and prosecuted that design
as soon as they came into her majesty's service.
There were two circumstances which would have
made it necessary for them to have lost no time.
First, because it was a work that could not possibly
be done on a sudden; for the whole nation, almost
to a man, excepting professed nonjurors, had con-
ceived the utmost abhorrence of a popish successor;
and as I have already observed, the scruple of con-
science upon the point of loyalty was wholly con-
fined to a few antiquated nonjurors who lay starv-
ing in obscurity; so that, in order to have brought
such an affair about in a parliamentary way, some
years must have been employed to turn the bent of
the nation, to have rendered one person odious and
another amiable, neither of which is to be soon com-
passed toward absent princes, unless by comparing
them with those of whom we have had experience,
which was not then the case.
The other circumstance was the bad condition of
the queen's health, her majesty growing every day
more unwieldy, and the gout with other disorders
increasing on her, so that whoever was near the
court for about the two last years of her reign might
boldly have fixed the period of her life to a very few
months without pretending to prophecy. And how
little a time the ministers had for so great a work as
that of changing the succession of the crown, and
how difficult the very attempt would have been may
be judged from the umbrage taken by several lords
of the church party in the last year of her reign, who
appeared under an apprehension that the very quar-
rels among the ministers might possibly be of some
disadvantage to the house of Hanover. And the
universal declaration, both among lords and commons
at that time, as well in favour of the elector as
against the pretender, are an argument beyond all
conviction that some years must have been spent in
altering the dispositions of the people. Upon this occa-
sion I shall not soon forget what a great minister then
said to me, and which I have been since assured was
likewise the duke of Shrewsbury's opinion: "That
there could be no doubt of the elector's undisturbed
succession; but the chief difficulty lay in the future
disaffection of the church and people and landed in-
terest from that universal change of men and mea-
sures which he foresaw would arrive." And it
must be to all impartial men above a thousand wit-
nesses, how innocent her majesty's servants were
upon this article; that, knowing so well through
what channels all favour was to pass upon the
queen's demise, they by their coming into power
had utterly and for ever broken all measures with
the opposite party, and that in the beginning of their
administration there wanted not, perhaps, certain
favourable junctures which some future circum-
stances would not have failed to cultivate. Yet
their actions showed them so far from any view to-
ward the pretender that they neglected pursuing
pursuing
those measures which they had constantly in their
power, not only of securing themselves but the in-
terest of the church, without any violence to the
protestant succession in the person of the elector.
And this unhappy neglect I take to have been the
only disgrace of their ministry. To prevent this
evil was, I confess, the chief point wherein all my
little politics terminated; and the methods were
easy and obvious. But whoever goes about to gain
favour with a prince by a readiness to enlarge his
prerogative, although out of principle and opinion,
ought to provide that he be not outbid by another
party, however professing a contrary principle. For
I never yet read or heard of any party, acting in op-
position to the true interest of their country, what-
ever republican denominations they affected to be
distinguished by, who would not be contented to
chaffer public liberty for personal power or for an
opportunity of gratifying their revenge, of which
truth Greece and Rome, as well as many other states,
will furnish plenty of examples.
This reflection I
could not well forbear, although it may be of little
use further than to discover my own resentment.
And yet perhaps that misfortune ought rather to be
imputed to the want of concert and confidence than
of prudence or of courage.
I must here take notice of an accusation charged
upon the late ministry by the house of commons, that
they put a lie or falsehood into the queen's mouth,
to be delivered to her parliament. Mr. Thomas
Harley was sent to the elector of Hanover with
instructions to offer his highness any further securi-
ties for settling the succession in him and his family
that could consist with her majesty's honour and
safety. This gentleman writ a letter to the secre-
tary of state a little before his return from Hanover,
"That the elector ex-
signifying in direct terms
pressed himself satisfied in the queen's proceedings,
and desired to live in confidence with her." He
writ to the same purpose to one of the under-secre-
taries; and mentioned the fact as a thing that much
pleased him, and what he desired might be as public
as possible. Both these letters I have read, and the
queen, as she had reason to suppose, being suffici-
ently authorised by this notice from her minister,
made mention of that information in a speech from
the throne. If the fact were a lie it is what I have
not heard Mr. Harley to have been charged with.
From what has since passed in the world I should
indeed be inclined to grant it might have been a
compliment in his highness, and perhaps understood
to be so by the queen; but, without question, her
majesty had a fair excuse to take the elector ac-
cording to the literal meaning of his words.
if this be so the imputation of falsehood must
remain where these accusers of that excellent prin-
cess's veracity will, I suppose, not profess at least an
inclination to place it.
And
I am very willing to mention the point wherein
as I said all my little politics terminated, and where-
in I may pretend to know that the ministers were
of the same opinion, and would have put it in prac-
tice if it pleased God to let them continue to act
with any kind of unanimity.
I have already observed how well it was known
at court what measures the elector intended to fol.
low whenever his succession should take place, and
what hands he would employ in the administration
of his affairs. I have likewise mentioned some facts
and reasons which influenced and fixed his highness
in that determination notwithstanding all possible
endeavours to divert him from it. Now, if we con-
sider the dispositions of England at that time, when
almost the whole body of the clergy, a vast majority
of the landed interest and of the people in general,
were of the church party, it must be granted that
one or two acts, which might have passed in ten
days, would have put it utterly out of the power of
the successor to have procured a house of commons
of a different stamp, and this with very little dimi-
nution to the prerogative; which acts might have
OF THE QUEEN'S LAST MINISTRY.
511
been only temporary. For the usual arts to gaining, older than their mistress; so that no persons
parliaments can hardly be applied with success after
the election against a majority at least of three in
four, because the trouble and expense would be too
great, beside the loss of reputation. For neither
could such a number of members find their account
in point of profit, nor would the crown be at so
much charge and hazard, merely for the sake of go-
verning by a small party against the bent and genius
of the nation.
had ever a fairer prospect of running on the natural
life of an English ministry; considering likewise
the general vogue of the kingdom, at that time in
their favour. And it will be hard to find an in-
stance in history of a set of men in full possession of
power so sanguine as to form an enterprise of over-
throwing the government without the visible pros-
pect of a general defection, which (then at least)
Neither do I believe it
was not to be hoped for.
And as to all attempts of influencing
electors, they would have been sufficiently provided was ever heard of that a ministry in such circum-
for by the scheme intended. I suppose it need not stances durst engage in so dangerous an attempt
be added that the government of England cannot
without the direct commands of their sovereign.
move a step while the house of commons continues And as to the persons then in service, if they may
to dislike proceedings or persons employed; at least be allowed to have common sense, they would much
in an age where parliaments are grown so frequent sooner have surrendered their employments than
and are made so necessary; whereas a minister is hazard the loss of their heads at so great odds before
but the creature of a day, and a house of lords has they had tried or changed the disposition of the par-
been modelled in many reigns by enlarging the num- liament; which is an accusation that I think none
ber as well as by other obvious expedients.
of their libellers have charged upon them, at least
The judicious reader will soon comprehend how till toward the end of their ministry; and then very
easily the legislature at that time could have pro- | absurdly, because the want of time and other cir-
vided against the power and influence of a court or cumstances rendered such a work impossible, for
ministry in future elections, without the least injury several reasons which I have already related.
to the succession and even without the modern in-
vention of perpetuating themselves; which, how-
ever, I must needs grant to be one of the most ef-
fectual, vigorous, and resolute proceedings that I
have yet met with in reading or information.
the long parliament under king Charles I., although
it should be allowed of good authority, will hardly
amount to an example.
For
I must again urge and repeat that those who
charge the earl of Oxford and the rest of that minis-
try with a design of altering the succession of the
crown in favour of the pretender will perhaps be
at some difficulty to fix the time when that design
was in agitation; for if such an attempt had begun
with their power it is not easy to assign a reason
why it did not succeed; because there were certain
periods when her majesty and her servants were ex-
tremely popular, and the house of Hanover not al-
together so much, upon account of some behaviour
here and some other circumstances that may better
be passed over in silence; all which however had
no other consequence than that of repeated mes-
sages of kindness and assurance to the elector. Dur-
ing the last two years of the queen's life her health
was in such a condition that it was wondered how
she could hold out so long: and then as I have
already observed it was too late and hazardous to
engage in an enterprise which required so much
time, and which the ministers themselves had ren-
dered impracticable by the whole course of their
former proceedings, as well as by the continuance
and heightening of those dissensions which had early
risen among them.
The party now in power will easily agree that this
design of overthrowing the succession could not be
owing to any principle of conscience in those whom
they accuse; for they know very well, by their own
experience and observation, that such kind of scru-
ples have given but small disturbance of late years
in these kingdoms. Since interest is therefore the
only test by which we are to judge the intentions of
those who manage public affairs, it would have been
but reasonable to have shown how the interest of
the queen's ministers could be advanced by intro-
ducing the pretender before they were charged with
such an intention. Her majesty was several years
younger than her intended successor; and at the be-
ginning of that ministry had no disorders except the
gout, which is not usually reckoned a shortener of
life; and those in chief trust were, generally speak-
And whoever considers the late queen, so little
enterprising in her nature, so much given to delay,
and at the same time so obstinate in her opinions
(as restiness is commonly attended with slowness),
so great a pursuer of peace and quiet, and so exempt
from the two powerful passions of love and hatred,
will hardly think she had a spirit turned for such an
undertaking; if we add to this the contempts she
often expressed for the person and concerns of the
chevalier her brother, of which I have already said
enough to be understood.
It has been objected against the late queen and
her servants, as a mark of no favourable disposition
toward the house of Hanover, that the electoral
prince was not invited to reside in England; and at
the same time it ought to be observed that this ob-
jection was raised and spread by the leaders of that
party who first opposed the counsel of inviting him;
offering among other arguments against it the ex-
ample of queen Elizabeth, who would not so much
as suffer her successor to be declared, expressing
herself that she would not live with her grave-stone
always in her sight; although the case be by no
means parallel between the two queens. For in her
late majesty's reign the crown was as firmly settled
on the Hanover family as the legislature could do
it; and the question was only whether the presump-
tive heir of distant kindred should keep his court in
the same kingdom and metropolis with the sove-
reign, while the nation was torn between different
parties, to be at the head of that faction which her
majesty and the body of her people utterly disap-
proved; and therefore the leaders on both sides,
when they were in power, did positively determine
this question in the negative. And if we may be
allowed to judge by events, the reasons were cogent
enough; since differences may happen to arise be-
tween two princes the most nearly allied in blood
although it be true indeed that where the duty to a
parent is added to the allegiance of a subject the
consequence of family dissensions may not always
be considerable.
;
For my own part I freely told my opinion to the
ministers; and did afterward offer many reasons for
it in a discourse intended for the public, but stopped
by the queen's death, that the young grandson
(whose name I cannot remember) should be invited
over to be educated in England; by which I con-
ceived the queen might be secure from the influence
of cabals and factions; the zealots, who affected to
512
NARRATIVE OF
believe the succession in danger, could have no pre-
tences to complain; and the nation might one day
hope to be governed by a prince of English manners
and language, as well as acquainted with the true
constitution of church and state. And this was
the judgment of those at the helm before I offered
it; neither were they nor their mistress to be blamed
that such a resolution was not pursued. Perhaps,
from what has since happened, the reader will be
able to satisfy himself.
I have now said all I could think convenient (con-
sidering the time wherein I am writing) upon those
two points which I proposed to discourse on, wherein
I have dealt with the utmost impartiality, and I think
upon the fairest supposition, which is that of allow-
ing men to act upon the motives of their interests
and their passions; for I am not so weak as to think
one ministry more virtuous than another, unless by
chance or by extraordinary prudence and virtue of
the prince; which last, taking mankind in the
lump, and adding the great counterbalance of royal
education, is a very rare accident; and where it hap-
pens is even then of little use when factions are
violent. But it so falls out that, among con-
tending parties in England, the general interest of
church and state is more the private interest of one
side than the other; so that whoever professes to
act upon a principle of observing the laws of his
country may have a safe rule to follow by discover-
ing whose particular advantage it chiefly is that the
constitution should be preserved entire in all its
parts. For there cannot, properly speaking, be
above two parties in such a government as ours;
and one side will find themselves obliged to take in
all the subaltern denominations of those who dislike
the present establishment in order to make them-
selves a balance against the other; and such a party,
composed of mixed bodies, although they differ
widely in the several fundamentals of religion and
government, and all of them from the true public
interest, yet whenever their leaders are taken into
power under an ignorant, unactive, or ill-designing
prince, will probably, by the assistance of time or
force, become the majority, unless they be prevented
by a steadiness which there is little reason to hope;
or by some revolution, which there is much more
reason to fear. For abuses in administration may
last much longer than politicians seem to be aware
of, especially where some bold steps are made to
corrupt the very fountain of power and legislature ;
in which case, as it may happen in some states, the
whole body of the people are drawn in by their own
supposed consent to be their own enslavers; and
where will they find a thread to wind themselves
out of this labyrinth? or will they not rather wish
to be governed by arbitrary power after the manner
of other nations? For whoever considers the course
of the Roman empire after Cæsar's usurpation, the
long continuance of the Turkish government, or the
destruction of the Gothic balance in most kingdoms
of Europe, will easily see how controllable that
maxim is that res nolunt diu malè administrari; be-
cause, as corruptions are more natural to mankind than
perfections, so they are more likely to have a longer
continuance. For the vices of men, considered as
individuals, are exactly the same when they are
moulded into bodies; nor otherwise to be withheld
in their effects than by good fundamental laws, in
which when any great breaches are made, the con-
sequence will be the same as in the life of a par-
ticular man, whose vices are seldom known to end
but with himself.
A TRUE NARRATIVE
OF WHAT PASSED AT THE EXAMINATION OF
THE MARQUIS DE GUISCARD,
AT THE COCKPIT, MARCH 8, 1710-11;
FOR HIS STABBING MR. HARLEY; AND OTHER PRE-
CEDENT AND SUBSEQUENT FACTS, RELATING
TO THE LIFE OF THE SAID GUISCARD.
NING IT.
"YESTERDAY was sent me a narrative printed, with all the cir-
cumstances of Mr. Harley's stabbing. I had not time to do it
myself; so I sent my hints to the author of the Atalantis ;*
and she has cooked it into a sixpenny pamphlet, in her
own style; only THE FIRST PAGE IS LEFT AS I WAS BEGIN-
But I am afraid of disobliging Mr. Harley or Mr.
St. John in one critical point about it, and so would not do it
myself. It is worth your reading, for the circumstances are
ALL TRUE."-Journal to Stella, April 16, 1711. "Guiscard, and
what you will read in the Narrative, I ordered to be written.'
The facts in this Narrative are confirmed by
Ibid. April 28.
several other passages in the dean's works; particularly in the
Examiner, No. 33, and the share he had in it is acknowledged
in "Memoirs relating to the Change in the Queen's Ministry."
THERE is nothing received with more pleasure in
history than the minute passages and circumstances
of such facts as are extraordinary and surprising.
We often lament to see an important accident
nakedly told, stripped of those particularities which
are most entertaining and instructive in such rela-
tions. This defect is frequent in all historians, not
through their own fault but for want of information.
For while facts are fresh in memory nobody takes
care to record them, as thinking it idle to inform the
world in what they know already; and by this
means the accounts we have of them are only tra-
ditional, the circumstances forgotten, and perhaps
supplied with false ones or formed upon probabili-
ties according to the genius of the writer.
But beside the informing posterity on such occa-
sions there is something due to the present age.
People at distance are curious and concerned to
know the particulars of great events as well as those in
the metropolis, and so are the neighbouring nations.
And the relations they receive are usually either
very imperfect or misrepresented on purpose by the
prejudice of party in the relaters.
I shall endeavour to avoid both these errors in the
fact I am going to relate; and having made use of
some good opportunities to be informed from the
first hands of several passages not generally known,
I hope it will be in my power to give some satisfac-
tion to the public. About six years ago there came
into England a French papist, the younger brother
of a noble family in that kingdom, called Antoine de
Guiscard, abbot de Borly, near the Cevennes in
France. And as it is the usual custom for cadets of
quality there to betake themselves to the army or
the church, Guiscard chose the latter and had an
abbey given him of a considerable revenue; but
being of a vicious and profligate nature he fell into
the most horrible crimes that a man can commit.
Among other instances, it is said that he seduced a
nun. It is likewise reported that he and his younger
brother, suspecting their receiver had cheated, got
Mrs. Manley was also employed by Dr. Swift in “ A learned
Comment upon Dr. Hare's excellent Sermon, preached before
the Duke of Marlborough, on the Surrender of Bouchain ;"
"A true Relation of the several Facts and Circumstances of the
intended Riot and Tumult on Queen Elizabeth's Birthday;" and
in "A modest Inquiry into the Reasons of the Joy expressed
by a certain set of People, upon the spreading a Report of Her
Majesty's Death;" and wrote " A New Vindication of the Duke
of Marlborough, &c. ;" see Journal to Stella, Nov. 3, 1711.--
Beside these four tracts she was supposed to have written “A
Letter to the Examiner, concerning the Barrier Treaty vindi-
cated (by Dr. Hare);" and "An Answer to Baron Bothmar's
Memorial;" from hints suggested by the dean.
1
513
'GUISCARD'S EXAMINATION.
the poor man to their house and put him to the tor-
ture to force a discovery from him. Beside keeping
a serrail in his abbey, when he used to receive a sum
together from his revenue, his custom was to go to
Tholouse and lavish it in all sorts of excesses. A
young lady of a good family was so unhappy to be
prevailed on, to her dishonour, by his brother.
Monsieur de Guiscard was afterwards employed to
steal her from her father; but falling in love with
her himself, he carried her off from his rival into
Switzerland. Satiety not long after succeeding, he
was so inhuman to poison the poor unfortunate lady.
After his flight, he was hanged in effigy by the ma-
gistrates at the principal town in Rouergue for his
intended rebellion. It is agreed on all hands that
upon account of his many enormities (but, as him-
self terms them in his Memoirs,a "private domestic
concerns and the crying injustice done his family"),
he withdrew to his own lands in the province of
Rouergue, contiguous to that part of Languedoc
called The Cevennes; where he endeavoured to
raise insurrections among the discontented people,
of which he has published a very foolish account
but having neither credit nor ability for such an un-
dertaking his success was answerable.
forced to fly into Switzerland, without taking any
measures for the safety of those poor wretches in-
volved with him, and who had been so unhappy to
be wrought by his insinuations. Thirty of the
Roman catholic persuasion (seduced by Guiscard
into the design of rebelling for liberty, not religion)
fell under the sentence of the magistrate, and were
broken upon the wheel; though it is said if Mon-
sieur de Guiscard, upon whom they depended for
intelligence, had but delayed his flight only so long
as to send notice to those gentlemen of the danger
impending, they might all, or at least the greater
number of them, have escaped as well as himself.
He was
The marquis de Guiscard had an early, an un-
doubted propensity to mischief and villany, but
without those fine parts useful in the cabinet; he
had not capacity to conduct a design, though he
might have brain enough to form one; was wholly
unacquainted with war, had never been in the army,
a profligate abbot, who knew nothing of the soldier.
Yet this man we find immediately made a colonel of
a regiment of horse, and lieutenant-general, with a
pension as it is said from Holland as well as from
us. To do all this for one wholly ignorant of a
camp was foolish as well as scandalous.
Nor had adversity made any impression upon his
manners. His behaviour here was expensive, luxu-
rious, vicious; lavishing at play and upon women
what was given him for his own support. Beside
his continual good fortune with other ladies, he
kept two in constant pay, upon whom he made a
profuse and regular expense: one of those creatures
was married, whom, that he might possess with the
greater ease, he procured her husband to be pressed
and sent away into the service: a transcript of that
state cunning sometimes practised by great politicians
(when they would disencumber themselves of an
incommode) in affairs of the like emergency.
At first there was none more caressed than our
foreign favourite. A late minister seldom saw a
levee without him, though we admit that is not
always a proof of being a favourite of those to whom
they make their court. There are who crowd them-
selves where they have done the most sensible in-
ก "Authentic memoiis, being secret transactions in the south-
ern provinces of France, to rescue that nation from slavery;
dedicated to the queen of Great Britain. By the marquis de
Guiscard, Lieutenant-General of the Forces gone upon the pre-
sent descent."
VOL. I.
|
juries, and against whom they have been guilty of
the highest offence: but want of shame is one part
of an ill man's character, as another branch is that
he can submit to the meanest things.
Monsieur de Guiscard had the misfortune to sink
under his character, even to those great men who at
first had most indulged him. His parts were too
mean to balance or uphold him against a just con-
tempt; he was found a useless villain whose inferior
understanding could not answer expectation. Prov-
ing unserviceable he was consequently discoun-
tenanced, dropped by degrees, and afterward totaily
neglected, his pension ill paid, and himself reduced
to extremity. This put him upon making his peace
with France: a common practice of such villains,
whose only business being to support an infamous
life in fulness of luxury, they never weigh what
stands between them and the end.
The marquis de Guiscard had no religion, knew
nothing of principles, or indeed humanity: brutish,
bold, desperate, an engine fit for the blackest mis-
chief; revengeful, busy to design, though full of in-
consistencies and preposterous in his management;
his schemes impracticable to any less rash and incon-
siderate, as may be seen at large in those his ill-
formed projects of rebellion against his prince; his
aspect gloomy and forbidding, no false indication of
the malignancy within. Nor could the evil in his
nature be diverted by benefits. The present ministry,
regarding him as a man of family, one who had been
caressed in England, though they liked neither his
principles nor his practice, thought it against the
glory of the queen (who is the sanctuary of distressed
foreigners) to let a gentleman of such birth want
the supports of life, and therefore entered upon
measures to pay him four hundred pounds a-year as
part of that pension which at first was granted him
|
In
and had been for some time discontinued. He could
no longer with any pretence be a malecontent, but
he would not forego his treacherous design nor his
desire to make his peace at home. Mr. Harley dis-
covered his correspondence: he knew he had wrote
three letters to France with advice of our affairs.
This discovery was made a fortnight before Mon-
sieur de Guiscard's seizure. Mr. Harley was willing
to convict him under his own hand, and accordingly
took all necessary precaution to have what letters he
should write brought to the secretary's office.
the mean time persons were employed that should
give an account of all his motions; such who played
with him, drank with him, walked with him, in a
word those who under the pretence of diversion
and friendship should never lose sight of him till
that day, when he went to a merchant of his ac-
quaintance to the city, and gave him a letter with
this request, "that he would be pleased to forward
it and let it be sent away with his own foreign
letters."
This letter was brought to Mr. Harley; where he
read Monsieur Guiscard's advice to the ministers of
France, "That they should invade England as soon
as possible, whether they succeed or no, because
the mischief it would do us would be irreparable: it
would disconcert and divide us, ruin our credit, and
do us a vast deal of hurt," &c.
On the 8th of March, the queen's inauguration
day, Monsieur de Guiscard, between two and three
o'clock in the afternoon was seized in the Mall in
St. James's Park, by a warrant of high treason form
Mr. secretary St. John, and carried by the queen's
messengers to the Cockpit. He seemed then to have
taken his resolution, and to determine that his ruin
should be fatal to those persons who occasioned it,
by desiring leave to send for a glass of sack, some
2 L
514
NARRATIVE OF
bread and butter, and a knife. The woman of the
coffeehouse sent him all but the knife, which was
accidentally omitted. He was brought into the
clerks' room, and kept there till the cabinet council
was assembled; in that room he found a penknife,
and took it away unperceived; which as it is sup-
posed he hid in his sleeve, for there was none
found in his pockets, which were searched before
his examination.
There were present at the committee of cabinet
council, the lord keeper, lord president, duke of Or-
mond, duke of Newcastle, duke of Buckingham,
duke of Queensberry, earl Poulet, lord Dartmouth,
Mr. Harley, Mr. secretary St. John.
[Mr. Tilson, Mr. Hare, under-secretaries, sat at a
table by themselves.]
Monsieur de Guiscard being brought in to be ex-
amined, Mr. secretary St John, whose business it
was to interrogate him, asked him some questions
about his corresponding with France, and whether
he had not sent letters thither? Monsieur de Guis-
card denied it boldly: mean time his colour came
and went. Earl Poulet, before he was brought in,
had desired Mr. St. John to change places with Mr.
Harley, that Guiscard's face might be full in the
light, and his countenance better perceived in any
alteration that might happen at the questions that
should be asked him.
The presence of that august assembly, the obliga-
tions the criminal had to some in particular who
had honoured him with their favour, and to all in
general, as they were of the first rank among a peo-
ple who had so generously refuged him in his mis-
fortunes; his own guilt and dread of being detected;
might well cause an emotion in the mind and face of
the most resolved, most hardened person. He
flushed and turned pale, the posture of his feet rest-
less and unassured, his hands in perpetual motion,
fumbling in his pocket; which some of that noble
assembly reflecting on, could yet well account for
by remembering it was his usual manner: a French
air which has been long since received in England,
among some of our fine gentlemen, to a great degree
of imitation.
Could one have looked into Guiscard's guilty
soul, how terrible at that moment had been the
prospect! His dread of conviction, his ingratitude,
his treachery, his contempt or desire of death, his
despair of heaven, his love of his native country, his
spirit of revenge, embroiled his thoughts, fermented
his blood, roused his shame, and worked up his re-
solution to a pitch of doing all the service to France
and mischief he could to England. Like falling
Sampson, to involve in his fate the strength of the
enemy: yet he would make one push for life, and
till proof were produced not give up a cause he
could defend so easily as by denying the crime he
was charged with; which he did with an undaunted
assurance, till Mr. secretary asked him "If he knew
such a gentleman?" naming the merchant with
whom he had left the letter. At that Guiscard
rolled his eyes, assured of his ruin, yet surprised and
shocked at the approach. The same question being
repeated, he answered "Yes, what of that?"
ing pressed again to discover what he knew of his
corresponding with France, he continued obstinate
in his pretended ignorance; when Mr. secretary St.
John produced his letter, and with a force of elo-
quence inseparable from what he speaks represented
to Monsieur de Guiscard the baseness, the blackness
of his crime; "to betray the queen, his benefactress;
Britain, the country that had refuged, supported,
trusted, honoured him by the command of her troops
with such noble confidence, that made it double vil-
Be-
|
lany in him to be a villain:" exhorting him "yet to
be sincere, and give up to their information what he
knew of the treacherous design he had formed.'
While the secretary's words were making an irre-
sistible impression upon every mind but his to
whom they were addressed, the criminal formed to
himself the destruction of those two dreadful ene-
mies of France, Mr. Harley and Mr. St. John. It
seemed to him too hazardous to attempt the design
at the full board; not in regard of his own life (that
was already devoted), but lest they should not be
both involved. It appeared reasonable to him, that
if upon the pretence of discovery, he could get Mr.
St. John to withdraw, Mr. Harley might possibly be
of the party, and he have a chance to murder both
before they could be assisted. Accordingly, when
he was pressed to discover, he desired to speak with
Mr. St. John apart. The secretary told him, "That
was impracticable: he was before the whole com-
mittee as a criminal, and what he had to say must
be said to all." Upon Guiscard's persisting to
speak only to the secretary, they went to ring the
bell, to call in the messengers to carry him away;
which he observing, cried out "That is hard! not
one word! pas un mot!" and stooping down, said
“J'en veux donc à toi. Then have at thee!" so
stabbed Mr. Harley. Redoubling the stroke the
penknife broke, which he was not sensible of; but
rushing on toward Mr. St. John, overthrew the
clerks' table that stood between. Mr. St. John saw
Mr. Harley fall; and cried out "The villain has
killed Mr. Harley !" Then he gave him a wound,
as did the duke of Ormond and the duke of New-
castle. Mr. St. John was resolved to have killed
him, but that he saw Mr. Harley got up and walk-
ing about, and heard earl Poulet cry out, "not to
kill Guiscard.” The messengers laid hold of him
and tore his coat. He raged, he struggled, he over-
threw several of them with the strength of one des-
perate or frantic, till at last they got him down by
pulling him backward by the cravat. Like a lion
taken in the toils, he foamed, he grinned, his coun-
tenance seemed despoiled of the aspect of anything
human; his eyes gleamed fire, despair, and fury.
He cried out to the duke of Ormond, whilst they
were binding him, amid his execrations and his
raving, "My lord Ormond, Pourquoi ne moi dépêchez
vouz? Why do you not dispatch me?"a The noble
"Ce n'est pais
duke made this memorable answer,
l'affair des honnêtes gens; c'est l'affair d'un autre.
It is not the work of gentlemen; it is the work of
others."
Let us turn our eyes from so detestable an object
to another not less surprising, though of a quite dif-
ferent kind; where we shall behold a gentleman,
arrived by long practice to that difficult attainment
of possessing his soul in all conditions, in all acci-
dents, whether of life or death, with moderation.
This is the man that may truly be said to know him-
self, whom even assassination cannot surprise; to
whom the passions are in such obedience, they
never contend for sway nor attempt to throw him
from his guard Mr. Harley, falling back in his
chair by the redoubled stroke that was given him,
and seeing them busy about taking Guiscard, by
whom he imagined himself killed, did not call or cry
a Monsieur Mesnager says, Mr. Harley was stabbed "by un
scélérat François, a French miscreant, at the council-board,
where that wretch was brought to be examined;" and adds, iu
a strain of national vanity, "They may take notice in England
how good judges we are of men in France, and believe they
haye reason to be wary how they entertain any, whom the
wisest prince on earth, than whoin none sees further into the
merits of men, has determined to be worthless and not fit
to be employed."-Extracted from the Negotiatious of Mesna-
ger.
GUISCARD'S EXAMINATION.
515
for help; but getting up as well as he could of him-
self, applied his handkerchief to the wound to stop
the blood and keep out the air, walking about the
room till they had time to come to him, not com-
plaining nor accusing, nor encouraging them to re-
venge him upon Guiscard; his countenance serene,
unaltered; so that from his own behaviour, all his
friends, particularly his tenderest, Mr. St. John,
hoped he was but slightly hurt. When Busiere, the
surgeon, searched the wound, they were all sur-
prised to find it so dangerous; the penknife was
struck aslant and buried in the wound, which Mr.
Harley himself took out, wiped, called for the
handle, and said "They belong to me." He asked
"if the wound were mortal, as he had affairs to
settle." Even in our incredulous age, we may term
his escape a miracle: the blow was struck exactly
upon his breast-bone, which broke the knife; had it
been an inch lower, it had touched the diaphragma,
and all the world could not have saved his life: or a
nail's breadth deeper it would have reached his
heart. I have heard it affirmed, "that if one should
attempt a thousand times at an imitation of Guis-
card's design, without his rage and force, not once
in that thousand times would it be probable that a
life could escape the blow, as Mr. Harley's has
done." He had a double deliverance, first from the
knife striking upon the breast-bone and then from
its breaking there; he must else have infallibly been
murdered by the repetition of the blow. Neither
was the cure less doubtful; the contusion was more
dangerous than the wound itself: about a week
after the bruised blood fell down, which held his life
in
He had been ill for some time before,
suspense.
and was not as yet recovered.
As soon as Mr. Harley was dressed he ordered
the surgeon to take care of Monsieur de Guiscard;
and was himself carried home in a chair, followed
by the lamentations and prayers of the people for
his recovery, who attended him to his own door with
their sighs and sorrows.
The bold marquis, though subdued, was still un-
tamed: his fury, despair, and desire of instant death
made him use his efforts to prevent the good inten-
tions of the surgeon and the assistants. They were
forced to keep him down by strength of hand whilst
his wounds were searched and dressed, after which
he was sent to Newgate, where he continued in the
same violence of mind. He begged to die, he strove
to die by rubbing the plasters from his wounds; to
prevent which there were persons perpetually em-
ployed to watch on each side the bed.
If we read his sentiments in his own Memoirs
we may find they were always disposed to violence.
Speaking to those whom he would draw into a con-
federacy against the king, "That it was better to
die once for all, than to die in a manner a thousand
times a-day, always at the mercy of men who made
it their business to embitter their life and make it
insupportable."—p. 8. In another place, "How
can we better spend some few and uncertain days,
which every moment are ended by some disease, by
misfortune or old age, than by making our name
famous and immortal?"—p. 14. And thus, "Pusil-
lanimous men, who for want of courage dare not
attempt anything at their peril, will never see an end
of their misfortune."-p. 46.
These being his avowed tenets may give us some
light into a design so execrable that it were sin to
look into it with any other eyes but detestation.
Monsieur de Guiscard was to reconcile himself to
France, which could not probably be done but by
something more notorious than his disaffection.
Upon his deathbed examination he told the lords
|
"There was something horrible he had to tell them!
-for which he ought to be torn in pieces!—some-
thing inconceivable!-exceeding all barbarity!".
There he stopped as if for breath, a reanimation of
spirits, or to recollect what he had to say. After
awhile, seeing he did not proceed, they reminded
him to go on. He repeated those and many more
such expressions. Being pressed to proceed, he fell
into something very trifling, which he knew they
knew already; said, "It was no matter-content-
content"-meaning to die.
Upon their examination of him in Newgate he
seemed to boast his resolution and performance;
bade them "judge what he was able to do in a good
cause had they thought fit to employ and trust him,
since he could go so far in an ill one.'
The vanity
of his nation kept him company to the last he
valued himself upon his intrepidity, his contempt of
The last time the
death, and thirst of honour, &c.
lords were with him, he desired Mr. St. John's
hand, and said "Pardonne, pardonne." Mr. St.
John replied, "Je vous pardonne-Dieu vous par-
donne !"-Guiscard repeating, "Content-content"
-he became delirious.
The roughness of his nature seems to have hin-
dered him from encouraging that remorse which
approaching death might occasion, else we should
doubtless have had disclosed the blackest scene that
any age has shown. It is very well known the eager
desire he had for some time expressed to see the
queen alone; the pretence of that audience he so
earnestly importuned was, "To get his pension as-
sured." He was of late often found in the ante-
chamber and at the back stairs. He generally car-
ried a bottle of poison about him, supposed to
answer the disappointment of some foreseen event.
This compared with his own words and several
letters from France and Holland at that time, men-
tioning it was expected they should hear of a coup
d'éclat en Angleterre, makes it almost past doubt
that he did design to kill the queen, and failing of
his attempt there stabbed Mr. Harley, as by his
own confession he would have done Mr. St. John,
because they were the two important lives that gave
dread and anguish to that monarch who has so long
and often been the terror of others.
The queen, all merciful and saintlike as she is,
had herself the goodness (notwithstanding appear-
ances were against him in the supposition of his
horrible intentions to destroy her) to appoint two
surgeons and two physicians to attend him in New-
gate, with whatever was befitting a man of family.
This gracious treatment could depart only from a
mind so conversant with heaven, so near of kindred,
as that of our pious queen.
Her cares and prayers were the balm that healed
Mr. Harley's wound. The honour that was done
him by the address of parliament will never be for-
gotten, nor her majesty's
gotten, nor her majesty's gracious answer. It is
remarkable that when it was brought into the house
of lords the Whigs all went out except one, who
raised a weak objection "that Monsieur de Guis-
card was not a papist convict."
Notwithstanding the surgeon's and physician's art
and care, Monsieur de Guiscard died in Newgate.
His wounds, of which he received four in the fore-
part of his body, were cured; the fifth was in his
back, which the surgeons deposed was not mortal.
The jury gave in their verdict "That his bruises
were the cause of his death." It appeared upon the
examination of Mr. Wilcox, the queen's messenger,
that it was he that wounded the marquis in the back
and gave him those bruises of which he died. Mon-
sieur de Guiscard in struggling with Wilcox threw
2 L 2
616
NARRATIVE OF GUISCARD'S EXAMINATION.
him against a window, which caused him to void
above a quart of blood the same night.
His resolution or rather obstinacy continued to
the last he would not permit his wounds to be
dressed nor accepted of any nourishment but what
was forced upon him: he made no profession of re-
ligion, had no show of remorse or contrition, nor
desired the assistance of a priest. He was privately
interred by order from the court-a mercy no nation
but ours would have conferred upon a spy, a traitor,
and an assassin.
a
Is it not obvious to all England what had been our
distress in the confusion wherein so long a run of
mismanagement has plunged us, if heaven had per-
mitted the knife of a barbarous foreigner to have
robbed us of a minister whose conduct, wise, stead-
fast, vigorous, extricates our affairs and embroils
the enemy? Does not the flourishing church of
England owe him all things for her deliverance from
presbytery and atheism; a miracle no less seasonable
than when she was assaulted by all the force of
Rome? Were he not a sincere worshipper at our
increasing altars, would he not reduce rather than
multiply? Is not even our gracious sovereign in-
debted to him for scattering those persons from about
her whose excessive tyranny strove to ruin all those
who aimed to come at the queen but by them?
Does he not sacrifice his quiet to the good of his
country without enriching his own family with her
treasure or decking himself with her honours, though
the has none but what with pride and joy she is
ready to bestow upon him? Was not his blood
(even now devoted to the restless genius of France),
spilt in dread of his pursuits and endeavours to re-
duce that monarch to humanity and reason? Is not
his modesty so excessive that he conceals from those
persons who have treated him as a traitor the extent
of his power, lest he should seem to insult their
disgrace? Free from that false delicacy which so
often makes people uneasy at what either the mis-
taken or our enemies say of us; his actions have
their foundation on solid judgment, propped by a
most extensive genius, unlimited foresight, and im-
moveable prudence. France records her Richelieu,
Mazarin, and Louvois: we talk with veneration of
the Cecils; but posterity shall boast of Harley as a
prodigy in whom the spring is pure as the stream;
not troubled by ingratitude or avarice, nor its beauty
deformed by the feature of any vice. The coming
age will envy ours a minister of such accumulated
worth; they will see and know how happy we were.
Why then should we ourselves be wilfully blind or
wilfully ignorant of it? Is it not his distress to be
born among a people so divided? Could he in any
other country have failed of universal love and vene-
ration? How long shall our divisions make us the
sport and proverb of the neighbouring nations?
Monsieur Quillet, by the purity of his Latin, has
diffused our character throughout the world; and
when the curious would be informed of the genius
of the British people, the learned refer to him: it
is thought the most beautiful part of his Callipædia,
and however the spirit of the author may have suf-
fered by the change, I will present it to the reader
in the English translator's words:
"If then from Calais you design to land
On England's vile, unhospitable strand,
There you shall find a race of monstrous men,
Where mangled princes strew the cyclops' den.
A false, ungrateful, and rebellious brood,
New from a slaughter'd monarcli's sacred blood.
They break all laws, all fancies they pursue,
And follow all religions but the true.
* Alluding to the bill for building fifty new churches.
All there are priests, each differently prays,
And worships heaven ten thousand different ways.
If by the mob the canting fool's admired,
The brother's gifted, and the saint inspired.
Hence the fanatics rave, and wildly storm,
Convert by pistol, and by pike reform.
Nor are th' enthusiasts so abhorrent grown
To holy ceremonious rites alone :
An Englishman on all extremes will run,
And by eonsent be wilfully undone.
If an opinion thwart what ancients wrote,
He catches it, and bosoms up the thought.
Alcides would his club as soon resign,
As he a darling heresy decline.
Yet we must do the sons of England right:
Some stars shine through the horror of the night.
For navigation, and for skill renown'd,
In sailing the terraqueous globe around.
To them no shore's untried, no sea's unknown,
Where waves have murmur'd and where winds have blown.
Typhis and Jason, who in Argo came,
Lay no pretensions to so just a fame,
As Ca'endish, Willoughby, and Drake's immortal name.'
Is it not time to redeem our character, that the
world in applauding our courage may no longer ob-
ject our divisions? Though we disagree in religion,
yet for common good, we should methinks be glad
to unite in politics. Our ceremonies may differ,
but our essentials are the same; and to people of
reason, one would imagine there needed not much
persuasion to join in those advantageous particulars,
reputation and interest.
Parties break their force against one another, do
the work of our foes, are weakened by perpetual
animosities, hate their adversary at home much more
strenuously than a foreign enemy, incapacitate
themselves from doing all the injury they should to
France, all the good they ought to England. Our
piques and distastes for trifles have run us up to
frenzy; the world beholds the hatred and aversion
among us as lunacy in our blood, incurable but by
letting forth; they foresee and long for a civil war,
to reduce us to misery and reason; they flatter
themselves that our dissensions tend that way, and
prophesy they can have no end but with our ruin.
The very
It is ourselves only can disappoint the hopes of
our enemies, and extricate ourselves.
Mahometans claim our pity for being misled by the
grand impostor; and shall a fellow-christian be
hated? Have we no arguments but bitterness and
reproach? must we continue as violent against our
neighbour at home, as brave in the field abroad? If
we were not all Britons, or had different interests,
something might be said for that eager desire of
ruin so conspicuous in the contending parties.
How ridiculous it appears to a reasonable man,
who reflects how greatly our happy constitution is
envied by our enemies and how little valued or en-
joyed by ourselves! We boast of liberty, and yet
do all we can to enslave others to our opinions;
meanwhile the common interest of the island is lost
or forgotten in the desire of gratifying our parti-
cular revenge and aversions.
We have now a queen and ministry of consum-
mate piety, prudence, and abilities, who know the
true interest of England and will pursue it. The
church is delivered from oppression and fears; re-
ligion secured according to every Englishman's
heart's desire. What should we next consider but
the interest of the body politic? Which way can
that be so effectually carried on as by calming our
heats and animosities, by taking off the veil of pre-
judice and party which so long has blinded us; to
have every individual consider what would be for
the good of the whole and sincerely to give into it?
Were these measures faithfully pursued, France
could never be formidable to England; nor the pro-
testant religion here be under any apprehension from
the restless and encroaching spirit of the Roman.
LEARNED COMMENT, &c.
517
A LEARNED COMMENT
UPON DR. HARE'S EXCELLENT SERMON,
PREACHED (SEPT. 9, 1711) BEFORE THE DUKE
OF MARLBOROUGII, ON THE SURRENDER
OF BOUCHAIN;
BY AN ENEMY TO PEACE.
Et multis utile bellum.
"I HAVE got a set of Examiners; and five pamphlets, which
I have either written or contributed to, except the best, which
is the Vindication of the Duke of Marlborough,' and is entirely
of the author of the Atalantis."-Journal to Stella, Oct. 22, 1711.
"Comment on Hare's sermon by the same woman; only
hints sent to the printer from Presto, to give her."-Ibid.
Nov. 3.
I HAVE been so well entertained by reading Dr.
Hare's sermon, preached before the duke of Marlbo-
rough and the army, in way of thanksgiving for
passing the lines and taking Bouchain, that I cannot
forbear giving part of my thoughts thereupon to the
public. If a colonel had been to preach at the head
of his regiment, I believe he would have made just
such a sermon; which before I begin with, I must
beg leave to consider the preface, and that stale
topic in the publisher of "printing a discourse
without the author's leave, by a copy got from a
friend; being himself so modest that he would by
no means hear of printing what was drawn up in so
much haste." If the thing be not worth publishing,
either the author is a fool or his friend a knave.
Besides, the apology seems very needless for one
that has so often been complimented upon his pro-
ductions; of which we have seen several without
either art or care, though published with this famous
doctor's consent. A good argument indeed is not
the worse for being without art or care; but an ill
one is nothing without both. If plainness and
honesty made amends for every hasty foolish com-
position, we should never have an end, and every
dunce that blotted paper would have the same plea.
But the good doctor's zeal for the continuation of
the war must atone for the rest of his defects. His
politics and his divinity seem to be much of a size
there is no more of the last in his sermon than what
is to be found in the text; he is so great an enemy
to a partition that he scorns to divide even that.
He begins p. 62," I cannot but think that one
of the properest acknowledgments to God, for the
manifest tokens we receive of his good providence,
is to consider their natural tendency, and what is
the true use which he has put into our power to
make of them." May we not very well query
whether this be sense or truth? The properest ac-
knowledgments to God for the manifest tokens, &c.,
is to offer him thanks and praise and obey his laws.
P. 63.-"Persevere bravely in the just and neces-
sary war we are engaged in, till we can obtain such
a peace as the many successes he has given us natu-
Dr. Francis Hare, bred at Eaton, was a fellow of King's
college, Cambridge, where he had the tuition of the marquis of
Blandford, only son to the duke of Marlborough; who ap-
pointed him chaplain general to her majesty's forces in the
Low Countries. He afterward obtained first the deanery of
Worcester, and then that of St. Paul's; in 1727 was advanced
to the see of St. Asaph, and in 1731 translated to Chichester;
which he held till his death, in 1740. "He has written three
small pamphlets upon the management of the war, and the
treaty of peace,
says Swift, Examiner, No. 29. He was
author of The Barrier Treaty Vindicated;" and of four
treatises against "The Conduct of the Allies." He was also a
writer in the Bangorian controversy; and drew upon himself
the severest of bishop Hoadly's treatises, under the title of
"The dean of Worcester still the same.' His works were
collected, in four volumes, 8vo., 1746.-N.
b Adapted to the bishop's works, 4 vols. 8vo.
"
"}
rally lead to, and by the continuance of the divine
favour must end in, if we be content to wait his
leisure, and are not by our impatience and misgiv-
At this rate when
ing fears wanting to ourselves."
must we expect a peace? May we not justly in-
quire whether it be God's or the duke of Marlbo-
rough's leisure he would have us wait? He is there
in an army well paid, sees nothing but plenty, nay.
profuseness in the great officers and riches in the
general. Profuseness, when they every day in their
turns receive the honour of his grace's company to
dinner with them. At that sumptuous table which
his grace once a week provides for himself and them,
the good doctor never considers what we suffer at
home, or how long we shall be able to find them
money to support their magnificence. I should
think the queen and ministry next under God the
best judges what peace we ought to make.
If by
our impatience he meant the army, it was needless
and absurd; if he meant our impatience here at
home, being so far removed from the scene and in
quite another view, he can be no judge of that.
P. 64.-" One would think a people who by such
a train of wonderful successes were now brought to
the very banks of Jordan, could not be so fearful as
to stop there, or doubt with themselves whether or
no they should try to pass the river, (quere, Senset
or Scheldt?) and get possession of the land which
God had promised them; that they could with their
own eyes take a view of it (applied to Picardy), and
behold it was exceeding good," &c. Our case and
the Israelites' is very different. What they con-
quered they got for themselves; we take a view of
the land as they did, and “behold it to be exceeding
good," but good for others. If Joshua had spent
many years in conquering the Amorites (with the
loss of infinite blood and treasure), and then de-
livered the land over to the Gibeonites, the Israelites
might have had good reason to murmur; and that
has been our case.
}
Ibid." It seems incredible that men should for
many years together struggle with the greatest diffi-
dangers in pursuit of a noble end, an end worthy of
culties, and successfully go through innumerable
all the pains and trouble they, are at, and yet lose
their courage as they gain ground," &c. Though
this be a falsity, yet to lose courage as we gain
ground may very probably happen, if we squander
our courage by the yard and gain ground by the inch.
Ibid." Of all the virtues human nature would
aspire to, constancy seems to be that it is least made
for. A steady pursuit of the same end for any long
time together hath something in it that looks like
immortality," (hath not this flight something in it
that looks like nonsense?) "and seems to be above
the reach of mortal man." (How does a steady
pursuit look like immortality? If it looks like im-
mortality, it certainly seems to be above the reach
of mortal man.) The "earth we live on, the air we
breathe, the nourishment we take, everything about
us is by nature subject to continual change; our
bodies themselves are in a perpetual flux, and not a
moment together the same as they were. What
ple of action amidst so much inconstancy?"
place then can there be for a constant steady princi-
these reasons were true, it would be impossible not
to be inconstant. With this old beaten trash of a
flux he might go on a hundred pages on the same
subject without producing anything new: it is a
wonder we had not the grave observation, "That
nothing is constant but inconstancy." What does
all this end in? His first heat and edge shows us
indeed a flux of what we did not expect.
If
P. 66.-" And though the end we aim at be the
518
A LEARNED COMMENT
""
same it was, and certainly nearer.' This puts me
in mind of a divine, who preaching on the day of
judgment said, "There was one thing he would be
bold to affirm, that the day of judgment was nearer
now than ever it was since the beginning of the
world." So the war is certainly nearer an end to-
day than it was yesterday, though it does not end
these twenty years.
Ibid." Such fickle, inconstant, irresolute crea-
tures are we in the midst of our bravest resolutions.
When we set out, we seem to look at what we are
aiming at through that end of the perspective that
magnifies the object, and it brings it nearer to us;
but when we are got some way, before we are aware
we turn the glass, and looking through the little
end, what we are pursuing seems to be at a vast dis-
tance and dwindled almost into nothing." This is
strange reasoning. Where does his instrument-
maker live? We may have the same constancy,
the same desire to pursue a thing and yet not the
same abilities. For example, in hunting, many ac-
cidents happen; you grow weary, your horse falls
lame, or in leaping a hedge throws you: you have
the same reason to pursue the game but not the
same ability.
P. 67. Their zeal, perhaps, flames at first; but
it is the flame of straw, it has not strength to last.
When the multitude once begin to be weary and in-
different, how easily are they then seduced into false
measures! how readily do they give into suspicions
against those who would encourage them to perse-
vere, while they are fond of others who, to serve
themselves, fall in with their complaints, but at the
bottom mean nothing but their own interest!" How
base and false soever this reproach be, I have set it
almost at length that I may not be charged with un-
fair quotation. By the company the doctor keeps
and the patrons he has chosen, I should think him
an undoubted judge when people mean their own
interest, but that I know conversing only on one
side generally gives our thoughts the same turn; just
as the jaundice makes those that have it think all
things yellow. This writer is prejudiced, and looks
upon the rest of the world to be as self-interested as
those persons from whom he has taken his observa-
tion. But if he means the present ministry, it is
certain they could find their own interest in conti-
nuing the war as well as other people; their capaci-
ties are not less, nor their fortunes so great, neither
need they be at a loss how to follow in a path so
well beaten. Were they thus inclined, the way is
open before them; the means that enriched their
predecessors gave them pretence to continue their
power, and made them almost necessary evils to the
state, are now no longer a secret. Did their succes-
sors study their own interest with the same zeal as
they do that of the public, we should not have the
doctor in these agonies for fear of a peace; things
would be then as he would have them; it would be
no longer a flame of straw, but a solid fire likely to
last as long as his poor countrymen had any mate-
rials to feed it. But I wonder he would talk of
those who mean their own interest; in such an au-
dience, especially before those "who fall in with
their complaints," unless he had given it quite
another turn and bestowed some of his eloquence in
showing what he really thinks, that nothing in na-
ture is so eligible as self-interest, though purchased
at the price of a lasting war, the blood and treasure
of his fellow-subjects, and the weal of his native
country.
P. 68.—“This is a misfortune which free assem-
blies and popular or mixed governments are almost
unavoidably exposed to; and it is for this reason, so
few nations have ever steadily pursued for any long
time, the measures at first resolved on, were they
never so right and just; and it is for the same reason
that a single power seldom fails at long run to be too
hard for a confederacy." A very good argument
for this war; a good overture and warning to make
a general for life. It is an excellent panegyric upon
arbitrary power; at this rate, the French king is
sure to get the better at last. This preacher must
certainly be an admirable judge of popular assem-
blies by living in an army. Such poor writers get a
rote and common place of talking by reading pam-
phlets, and from thence presume to make general ob-
servations upon government and set up for states-
men. If the duke of Marlborough be Moses, what
promised land is he bringing us to, unless this ser-
mon be preached only to the Dutch? He may have
promised them land and they him something else,
and both been as good as their words. In his alle-
gory of the people brought out of Egypt does the
doctor mean our army? The parallel must then be
drawn to make the war last forty years, or else it can
be no parallel: we may easily see how near the
comparison grows. Moses was accused by certain
Israelites; "Is it a small thing," say they, "that
thou hast brought us out of a land that floweth with
milk and honey, to kill us in the wilderness, except
thou make thyself altogether a prince over us?"
Hath the duke of Marlborough been suspected of
any such design? Moses was wroth, and said unto
the Lord, "Respect not thou their offering: I have
not taken one ass from them, neither have I hurt
one of them." (Num. xvi. 15.) And to the same
purpose Samuel, "Whose ox have I taken? or
whose ass have I taken? or whom have I defrauded?
whom have I oppressed? or of whose hand have I
received any bribe to blind mine eyes with? and I
will restore it you!" (1 Sam. xii. 3.) Does the
British Moses speak thus to the people? is there
any sort of agreement between them? Nor are we
sure of God's commands to go up against the Amor-
ites, p. 69, as the Israelites were; and we have fifty
times more reason to murmur. They were carried
from the wilderness "into a land flowing with milk
and honey;" we from such a land into the wilder-
ness, that is, poverty and misery, and are like to be
kept in the wilderness till this generation and the
next too are consumed by mortgages, anticipations,
&c.
P. 71. Where the doctor says, "The country it-
self was much too narrow for them," he must cer-
tainly mean the Dutch, who never think their fron-
tiers can be too much extended.
The doctor tells us, p. 72, "The justice and ne-
cessity of our cause is little short of the force of a
command." Did God command to fight because
the chaplain-general will have no peace? He asks,
"What is bidding us go on if our successes are
not?" At this rate, whenever any new success is
gained or a town taken, no peace must be made.
The whole exhortation against peace which follows,
is very proper for the chaplain of an army; it looks
like another Essay of the Management of the War.
"These successes have generally been so much
wanted and so little expected." If we have been
ten years at this vast expense, getting successes that
we could not expect, we were mad to begin this
war, which hath ruined us with all this success. But
why this acclamation? Is taking one small town
such great success as points out to us the finger of
God? Who is his God? I believe the general has
no little share in his thoughts, as well as the present
ministry, though upon a quite different considera-
tion. "The clouds have never this war thickened
UPON DR. HARE'S SERMON.
519
•
more or looked blacker than this year: things |
looked so black on every side as not to leave us the
faintest glimpse of light. We apprehended nothing
less than the dissolution of the alliance." Whatever
the doctor may be for a preacher, he has proved but
an indifferent prophet. The general and army may
be obliged to him for the dissipation of these clouds,
though the ministry are not. Were they the cause
that such clouds gathered, "as made him fear an
universal storm which could no way be fenced
against?" To hear him run on in praise of the
wonders of this campaign, one would scarce believe
he was speaking to those very persons who had for-
merly gained such memorable victories, and taken
towns of so much greater importance than Bouchain.
Had the French no lines before? I thought Mons,
Lisle, &c. had been once esteemed considerable
places. But this is his youngest child: he does
like most mothers when they are past the hopes of
more; they doat upon the youngest, though not so
healthy nor praiseworthy as the rest of the brethren.
Is it our fault, that "three of the princes in alliance
with us resolved to recall their troops ?" p. 76. We
brought our quotas, if our allies did not. By whose
indulgence was it that some of them have not been
pressed more closely upon that head, or rather have
been left to do as they please? It is no matter how
hard a bargain people pretend to make if they are
not tied to the performance.
P. 75.—" If the enemy are stronger than they
were," how are we so near our great hopes, the pro-
mised land? The affectation of eloquence, which
carries the doctor away by a tide of words, makes
him contradict himself and betray his own argument.
Yet by all those expressions, p. 75, we can only find
that whatever succcess we have must be miraculous;
he says "we must trust to miracles for our suc-
cess," which, as I take it, is to tempt God: though,
p. 77, he thinks "the most fearful cannot doubt of
God's continuance." We have had miraculous suc-
cess these nine years by his own account; and this
year, he owns,
(C we should have been all undone
without a new miracle; black clouds, &c., hanging
over our heads." And why may not our sins pro-
voke God to forsake us and bring the black clouds
again? greater sins than our inconstancy; avarice,
ambition, disloyalty, corruption, pride, drunkenness,
gaming, profaneness, blasphemy, ignorance, and all
other immoralities and irreligion! These are cer-
tainly much greater sins; and whether found in a
court or in a camp, much likelier to provoke God's
anger than inconstancy.
Ibid. "If we have not patience to wait till he
has finished by gradual steps this great work, in
such a manner as he in his infinite wisdom shall
think fit." I desire the doctor would explain him-
self upon the business of gradual steps, whether
three-and-twenty years longer will do, or what time
he thinks the general and himself may live: I sup-
pose he does not desire his gradual steps should ex-
ceed their date, as fond as he seems of miracles. I
believe he is willing enough they should be confined
to his grace's life and his own.
What does he mean, p. 78, by the natural and
moral consequences that must lead us? If those
moral consequences are consequences upon our
morals, they are very small. "Whatever reason
there can be for putting an end to the war but a good
one, was a stronger reason against beginning it."
Right! so far we allow. "And yet those very rea-
sons, that make us in so much haste to end it, show
the necessity there was for entering into it."
I am
in mighty hope to get out of a squabble, and there-
fore I had reason to get into it; generally the con-
trary is true. "What condition should we have now
been in had we tamely let that prodigious power
settle and confirm itself without dispute?" It could
never settle and confirm itself but by a war.
P. 79. “Did we not go into the war in hopes of
success? The greatest argument for going on with
the war is that we may have more success. Accord-
ing to the doctrine laid down by our author, we
must never be inclined to peace till we lose a battle:
every victory ought to be a motive to continue the
Upon this principle I suppose a peace was
refused after the battle of Ramillies.
war.
Ibid. "How can we doubt that we shall not still
succeed, or that an enemy that grows every day
weaker and weaker," &c. The doctor's zeal over-
bears his memory: just now the enemy was stronger
than ever.
P. 80. "If we consider that our strength is from
God," &c. Though all men ought to trust in God;
yet our Saviour tells us, we ought to regard human
means: and in the point before us, we are told,
"that a king going forth to war against another king,
sitteth down first, and consulteth whether he be able
with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against
him with twenty thousand; or else while the other
is yet a great way off, he sendeth an embassage, and
desireth conditions of peace." [Luke xiv. 31, 32].
Our Saviour was a preacher of peace; "Peace I
leave with you; my peace I give unto you," &c.
[John xiv. 27]. But the doctor chooseth rather to
drive on furiously with Jehu. He answers to the
question, "Is it peace?" as that king did to the
horsemen, "What hast thou to do with peace?
Get thee behind me." He saith, "Our ingratitude
and impenitence may defeat the surest prospects we
have." May we not ask him, whose ingratitude?
As to impenitence, I think this paragraph is the only
one wherein he vouchsafes and that but very slightly
in his whole sermon, to remind the people of repent-
ance and amendment; but leaves a subject "so little
suited to a day of joy," p. 81, to encourage them to
"go on to obtain the end toward which they have
made so many happy steps." We differ about that
end; some desire peace, others war, that so they
may get money and power. It is the interest of
some to be in action, others to be at rest: some
people clap their finger upon one point, and say that
alone can be a good peace; we say there be many
sorts of good peace, of all which we esteem the
queen and ministry to be the best judges. The
doctor tells us, "Our sins may force us to put an ill
end to the war." He should explain what he calls
an ill end; I am apt to think, he will think nothing
good that puts an end to it, since he saith, “
Venge-
ance may affect not only us but generations yet un-
born." That they have taken care of already. We
have pretty well mortgaged posterity, by the expenses
of this devouring war: and must we never see an
end to it, till there is not an enemy left to contend
with? for so our author would intimate. In what a
condition must we expect to be long before that?
It is very happy for the nation that we do not lie
at the mercy of this gentleman; that his voice is not
necessary toward the great end we pant after, the
unloading of our burden and the mitigation of our
taxes. A just and necessary war is an ostentatious
theme, and may bear being declaimed on.
have war; what have we to do with peace? We have
beaten our enemy; let us beat him again. God has
given us success; he encourages us to go on. Have
we not won battles and towns, passed the lines, and
taken the great Bouchain; what avails our miseries
at home; a little paltry wealth, the decay of trade
increase of taxes, dearness of necessaries, expense
Let us
520
A NEW VINDICATION OF
of blood, and lives of our countrymen? Are there
not foreigners to supply their places? have not the
loss of so many brave soldiers been offered to the
legislature as a reason for calling in such numbers of
poor Palatines, as it were to fill up the chasm of
war and atone for desolation among our subjects? If
we continue thus prodigal of our blood and treasure,
in a few years we shall have as little of the one as
the other left; and our women, if they intend to
multiply, must be reduced, like the Amazons, to go
out of the land or take them husbands at home of
those wretched strangers whom our piety and charity
relieved. Of the natives there will be scarce a rem-
nant preserved; and thus the British name may be
endangered once more to be lost in the German.
Were it not for fear of offending the worthy doctor
I should be tempted to compare his sermon with
one that some time since made so much noise in the
world [that of Sacheverell]; but I am withheld by
the consideration of its being so universally con-
demned, nay prosecuted, on one side. Perhaps the
chaplain-general will not like the parallel; there may
be found the same heat, the same innuendoes, upon
different subjects, though the occasion be not so
pressing. What necessity was there of preaching
up war to an army who daily enrich themselves by
the continuation of it? Does he not think loyalty
and obedience would have been a properer subject?
To have exhorted them to a perseverance in their
duty to the queen, to prepare and soften their minds,
that they may receive with resignation if not applause
whatever her majesty shall think fit to transact. The
doctor without suspicion of flattery, might very well
have extolled their great actions, and congratulated
with them upon the peace we are likely to enjoy ;
by which they will be at leisure to reap the harvest
of their blood and toil, take their rest at home, and
be relieved from the burden and danger of a cruel
war. And as our gratitude will be ever due to them
for delivering us from our distant enemy the French,
so shall we have reason to bless whoever are the
authors of peace to these distressed nations, by which
we may be freed from those nearer and much more
formidable enemies, discontent and poverty at home.
A NEW VINDICATION
OF THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH:
IN ANSWER TO A PAMPHLET, LATELY PUBLISHED,
CALLED BOUCHAIN;
Or, a Dialogue between the Medley and the Examiner.
"THE Vindication of the Duke of Marlborough' is entirely of
the author of the Atalantis."-Journal to Stella, Oct. 22, and
Nov. 3, 1711.
I was always satisfied of the stupidity and disin-
genuity of the author who called himself "The
Mrs. Manley, daughter of sir Roger Manley, a zealous
Royalist, was early in life cheated into marriage with a near
relation of the same name, who had at the same time a former
wife living. Deserted by her husband, she was patronized by
the duchess of Cleveland, a mistress of Charles II.; but the
duchess being of a fickle temper, grew tired of Mrs. Manley in
six months, and discharged her on pretence that she intrigued
with her son. Retiring into solitude, she wrote her first tra-
gedy, "The Royal Mischief." This play being acted in 1696
with great success, she received such unbounded incense from
admirers that her apartment was crowded with men of wit and
gaiety, which in the end proved fatal to her virtue. In the
same year, she also published "The Lost Lover, or Jealous
Husband,' a comedy. In her retired hours she wrote the
"Atalantis;" for which, she having made free in it with seve
ral distinguished characters, her printer was apprehended by
a warrant from the secretary's offico. Mrs. Manley, unwilling
an innocent person should suffer, prosented herself before the
court of king's bench as the author. Lord Sunderland, then
>>
Medley;" but never till now so thoroughly con-
vinced of his assurance. He (or one who personates
him) appears, in a little book called "Bouchain," as
if he were in close conference and great intimacy
with the Examiner; where according to the unfair
manner of modern dialogue he reserves all the wit
and reasoning for himself, and makes the poor Ex-
aminer one of the silliest, dullest rogues that ever
pretended to speak or hear of politics; nay, he has
even treated him worse than the real Medley did ;
who, though hired by the party to call him names
by the week, had still so much modesty not to take
away his understanding, though he did his integrity.
But here he is made just as stupid as was necessary
to introduce all the fine things that are thought fit
to be said of this campaign; and is directed to ask
those questions which none that reads and lives in
any part of England can be supposed to be ignorant
of, on purpose to heighten the glory of the general
and abuse the capacities of the present ministry.
This method of his seems to be copied from that
great genius and champion of their cause, the Ob-
servator; and our Examiner acts the part of his
countryman Roger, which how agreeable to the spi-
rit and sense of the Examiner may be easily judged
from his writings, which have met with a general
approbation for their wit and learning.
But leaving the falseness and improbability of the
diction, I shall only consider the malice and design
of this boute-feu, that would set the people on flame,
and advance the general to a height where none had
ever been hoisted before, only for the bare conse-
quences that attend his being at the head of an
army so often victorious, so well paid and en-
couraged, with no enemies in view but those whom
it was familiar to them to overcome, and who,
though superior in number (as indeed they were),
yet are wholly dispirited by continued losses, and at
present restrained by the positive commands of their
monarch; who has given it in charge to Monsieur
Villars, not to venture the army but upon manifest
advantages; so that nothing might be left to fortune,
which had appeared so contrary to them of late, and
seems to have so great a hand in the rise and fall of
empires, and that period which is set to human
glory.
This new Medley would bespeak our compassion
for his hero, by telling of "the hard usage he has
met with, and the sufficient reason he has had to be
disgusted; his scandalous manner of treatment
from the Examiner and his party; for," he says,
"he is sensible the usage he gave him was not
wholly from himself." And again, "That the duke
of Marlborough is divested of all interest and autho-
rity both at home and in the army, whom so much
pains have been taken to mortify, that he might
secretary of state, being curious to know from whom she got in-
formation of several particulars which were supposed above her
own intelligenco; she replied, with great humility, "that she
had no design in writing further than her own amusement and
divesrion in the country, without intonding particular reflections
and characters; and did assure them that nobody was concerned
with her." When this was not believed, and the contrary
urged against her by several circumstances, she said, "then it
must be by inspiration; because, knowing her own innocence,
she could account for it no other way.' Whether those in
power were ashamed to bring a woman to trial for a few amor-
ous trifles, or whether (her characters being under feigned
namos) the laws did not actually reach her, she was discharged
after several public examinations. On the change of the mi-
nistry sho lived in reputation and gaiety, and amused herself
in writing poems and letters, and convorsing with the wits. A
second edition of a volume of her letters was published in 1713.
“Lucius,” a well received tragedy, was written by her, and
neted in 1717. It was dedicnted to sir Richard Steele, who was
then on such friendly forms with her that he wrote the pro-
logue to her play, as Mr. Prior did the epiloguo. She died July
11, 1724.
THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.
521
serve."
either in discontent throw up his command or con-
tinue in it without honour; whom we laboured to
make the mark of public hatred; as if it were im-
possible for liberty and gratitude to consist together,
and men were to be ill used for no other reason but
because they could not be used so well as they de-
And further, "Your friends may use the
duke of Marlborough as ill as they please; but let
them be assured in the end this will certainly turn
upon themselves; and the time will come when it
will be as safe to speak truth of the present ministry,
as it is now to belie the old! and then, my friend,
you may hear further from me." Who, after this,
would not conclude the duke of Marlborough had
been turned out of all, his estate confiscated, and
himself under the most rigid sentence? Nothing
less should have provoked this audacious person to
have taken such liberty of speech, and been guilty of
such threatenings against the persons the queen is
pleased to honour and trust. Yet, that we may ex-
amine things more coolly than this incendiary, what
hardships has this great man to complain of? I be-
lieve we shall scarce find any precedent among the
Romans, that their generals abroad ever thought
themselves disobliged upon the removal of a quæstor
at home or the changing one secretary for another;
and yet this is the height of that discontent they so
much complain against. The queen, who seems di-
rected by heaven as a reward for her piety, in the
choice of her ministers and officers, did herself set
the duke of Marlborough at the head of her army;
she knew his long experience in military affairs;
that he had run through all the several degrees of
service, and either had a genius for war or nothing.
No man ever entered upon his command with
greater encouragement; the love and smiles of his
sovereign, the good wishes of the people, and if not
the personal love of the soldiers, yet the hatred they
had for the enemy and their sufferings during the
late peace gave them a double edge to war, and
made them gain such glorious victories which all
must own were got by the bravery of the English.
Their personal valour proved of use, when neither
genius in the general nor extraordinary conduct was
required; though none will dispute his excelling in
either, it has chanced that our greatest victories
have been obtained more by the courage of the sol-
diers than the finesse of the commander; yet he has
reaped all the advantage. Is he not the richest and
greatest subject in Christendom? Has there not
been a more than ordinary application, since the
troops under his command first took the field, to
supply them with everything that was necessary ?
Whoever of her majesty's subjects were left unpaid,
care was taken that money should not be wanting
for the war in Flanders. Even upon the change of
ministry, it was almost the first act of power in the
new, to borrow money to send to the army under
the duke of Marlborough's command. He was so
far from being "divested of all authority both at
home and abroad," that there was not any change
in what related to his grace's family, save the golden
key; which after long waiting was thought neces-
sary to be bestowed upon a person who would not
think herself grown too great for the indispensable
attendance of the place. The queen, nay the new
ministers, used his grace with the same goodness
and confidence in relation to his charge as the
former did. What occasion was there for discon-
tent? Did he ask any favour and was refused it?
Had not her majesty forgiven, nay forgot, that su-
preme mark of arrogance in the duke of Marl-
borough, when he durst show himself disobliged at
her giving away one regiment without first obtaining
his leave as general? Was there any remembrance
but in his own thoughts, of all that had been done
by his party to perpetuate his command? If he was
really disgusted because one of his sons-in-law
[the earl of Sunderland], and the father of another
[the earl of Godolphin], were removed, how un-
grateful and undutiful was that behaviour to the
person that had so wonderfully raised him; to a
sovereign who had honoured him with such super-
lative marks of her favour! It is possible he might
only seem discontented to please his family, though
it has been shown without reason; to which they
interpreted his going to Blenheim just before the
queen's birth-day, from whence he returned the day
after; as if he purposely chose to omit paying his
duty and respects upon so remarkable an occasion.
But what mortifications, what hardships are these
which our author complains of? Was his commission
limited? had he not power to advance or retreat?
was he forbidden to besiege or fight? was he com-
manded to take no steps but what were directed
from above? wherein was he divested of his autho-
rity? when was this barbarous usage? was there any
person hired to assassinate his fame or take away
his life? what conspiracy, what confederacy, to make
criminals accuse him? did
did any of his enemies
tamper with Monsieur de Guiscard, and offer him
his life, pardon, and money, to lay his villany upon
the duke? Had the persons here in power a mind
that his designs this campaign should miscarry, how
easy would it have been for them to have effectually
disappointed them and without being discovered!
An artful hand can make more wonderful, though
concealed movements. But instead of such usage,
has he not been supplied with all possible vigour?
was not a young general [the duke of Ormond]
sent off, that the duke of Marlborough might have
no occasion of discontent, nor appearance for com-
plaint? were not his soldiers flushed with many
victories eager and impatient to be led on to more?
did he not very well know, as I have said before,
that Monsieur Villars durst not fight him, though he
had greater numbers than the duke, since the king
had forbidden his venturing his army without evi-
dent advantages? are not the French dispirited and
overawed by the superior genius of the English, by
whom they have been so often vanquished? is it
then such a wonder, after all the glorious victories
the duke of Marlborough has obtained, that with
the same fortune, the same cause, the same army,
and against the same enemy, his grace has added
one inferior fortress to his greater conquests? are
the Senset and the Scheldt more formidable rivers
than the Danube or the Rhine? are only passing the
lines near Bouchain more wonderful then beating
the French in their lines near Brabant? or have our
former campaigns been so barren of great actions,
that we need so much cry up the passing of two
rivers and one morass where none durst oppose
them; as if the general's glory were never consum-
mate till now, or as if indeed he could have done
less, except he had been resolved to do nothing,
which could scarce have been with an army so full
of ardour to fight? These flights of joy upon so
small an occasion seem to me just as reasonable as
if some great conqueror should land in England,
beat all her armies, and take London in one cam-
paign; and yet reserve his triumphs and the people's
acclamations for the next, only upon the taking of
Islington.
Whether this action, in respect to those the duke
of Marlborough had performed before, deserves to
be valued at that height our author carries it, may
be gathered from what Sir W. Temple says: "In
522
A NEW VINDICATION OF
May, 1676, the king of France sent the duke of Or-
leans to besiege Bouchain. with some part of his
troops, being a small though strong place, consider-
able for its situation to the defence of the Spanish
Netherlands. The king, with the strength of his
army, posted himself so advantageously as to hinder
the prince of Orange from being able to relieve it or
to fight without disadvantage. The armies continued
some days facing one another, and several times
drawing out in order to battle, which neither of them
thought fit to begin. Bouchain was surrendered
the eighth day of the siege." Behold the same circum-
stance, attended with the same conquest, differing
only in the number of days, in which the disadvan-
tage lies by many on his grace's side!
I can never believe the duke of Marlborough will
think himself obliged to the author of this paper for
representing him as "a mortified person, and one
divested of all authority both at home and abroad;"
no more than I do imagine that his grace can, in
his own nature, be undutiful to that power that has
raised him; however accidentally he might once be
wanting in that respect he owed the queen in the busi-
ness of the regiment belonging to the late earl of Essex.
Nor when I remember how much he did formerly
for conscience' sake and the interest of the church
of England, can I persuade myself he will now en-
gage against it. How seasonably did he decline
king James's service, when the papists and dissenters
were united in interests to destroy the church; king
James, to whom the duke of Marlborough was en-
gaged by the highest gratitude! He had saved his
life in the Gloucester frigate, and honoured his
grace's family so far as to mingle his own royal
blood with it. Did not the duke of Marlborough
forego the interests of his sister and her children,
his nephews and nieces that he was so fond of be-
fore, for the good of his country and the security of
the Protestant religion? was he not contriving to
deliver up the king to the prince of Orange, if the
design had not been prevented? and did he not with-
draw himself from his benefactor to serve against
him under his greatest enemy; protesting in his
letter to the king, "that his desertion from his ma-
jesty proceeded from no other cause than the invio-
lable dictates of conscience and a high and necessary
concern for his religion, with which he was in-
structed that nothing could come in competition?"
Did the duke do all this for the church of England;
and will our author, or any of the Whiggish side,
persuade us he can so far recede from his former
principles to take party against that very church he
has helped to preserve? to join in opposition to her
with her bitterest foes when he is already as great
and rich as a subject ought to be?
No! no! such restless spirits as this writer, who,
in the words of Mr. Dryden, "fire that world
which they were sent by preaching to warm," those
“Phaëtons of mankind,” abuse the reputation of the
greatest persons, and do themselves honour at the
expense of others who, being equally ignorant of
many things, yet pretend to determine of all the
affairs of war and the cabinet; to inflame the people,
abuse the ministry, and the queen through them ;
to trouble the waters, in hopes crowns and mitres
may be found floating on the surface and ready to
fall to the share of the boldest hand.
We shall next consider the "scandalous manner
of treatment" the duke of Marlborough, as this
writer tells us, has met with from the Examiner
and his party" for he is sensible the usage he gave
him was "not wholly from himself." How can he
be sensible of that? for to this day it does not ap-
pear who the Examiner is, nor that he had instruc-
|
tions to talk of Crassus, Catiline, or Anthony. That
pen still remains concealed; neither rewards nor
presents have been given to any that we can suppose
was author of those papers. Whoever he were he
has had the modesty not to reveal himself, though
his remarks were only against those persons whom
the queen had thought fit to dispense with from fur-
ther serving her: the general excepted, as this writer
would have us believe, but he is the satirist who
makes the application. Cannot a person treat of
the excessive avarice and sordid behaviour of Marcus
Crassus, but because the duke of Marlborough is
known to be an extreme good husband of his money,
he must needs intend his grace as a parallel? In-
deed! does this libeller think there is so near a re-
semblance between them? Why. where then is the
injustice? To show that there has been any let him
convince us that his grace is become generous or
less in love with riches, and the comparison will
cease. But till then, though he were the conqueror
of Europe instead of Flanders, the people will be apt
to detest a vice they are sure to suffer by; regarding
it as a counterpoise to the bravest actions, or indeed
the only motive to the performance of them; and
where interest is suspected to be the spur to glory,
the reputation will always be less clear and shining.
As to the comparison with Catiline, I find not the
least ground for it; nor can it be so intended,
though the old Medley with his unfair quotation
has charged it upon the Examiner. The passage is
in the fourth Examiner, to which I refer the reader,
which can never I hope be applicable to England;
for how ambitious soever a general may prove, a
brave true English army cannot create either fear or
danger of their becoming a mercenary army. But
the author further tells us, the Examiner was
pleased to make the civil comparison of the duke
of Marlborough and his duchess to Anthony and
Fulvia." What is there said of Anthony is so little.
that it is scarce worth anybody's taking it to them-
selves. I am sorry an author cannot introduce a
figure, though in poetry, of a haughty, proud, wrath-
ful, and envious woman, but the application must be
presently made to his hand, as if there were no vices
in history but what could be paralleled in life! In
such a case I must say, as I did just before in that
of Crassus, with this addition, that sure there must
be some sort of resemblance or one's very friends
would never dare to make the ready comparison !
Behold here the utmost of that charge this author
has drawn up of what has been done by way of
mortification to the duke of Marlborough. Alas!
this is but one instance of the liberty of the press!
whereas the present ministry may complain of a
hundred; but their heads are too strong to be shaken
by such impotent blasts or disordered by every
libeller's malice. What clouds of pointless arrows,
though sent with a good will, have flown from the
Observator, the Review, and Medley! How have
great and mean geniuses united to asperse their con-
duct, and turn the management of the late persons
in power upon these! Humours, senseless ballads.
foolish parallels, the titles of Oxford nd Mortimer,
have been an ample field. Who but must despise
such wretched wits! I could quote several others if
it were not reviving them from their obscurity, or
rather giving new life to those still-born shapeless
births which but just appeared and perished. Nor
do I remember any person to have so far gloried in
those monstrous productions as to own being a
parent to them but the renowned Dr. Hare.
close of his fourth letter of the "Management of the
War" is indeed very extraordinary; where he tells,
"If they should describe the duke of Marlborough
The
THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.
523
to be a short, black, fattish, ill-shaped man, that
loves to drink hard, never speaks to be understood,
is extremely revengeful and ill-bred; if they should
represent his mind to be a complication of all ill
qualities," &c. Here is more malice, though less
wit and truth, than anything they accuse in the Ex-
aminer. In times of liberty and faction we must
expect that the best persons will be libelled; the
difference lies in the skill of the libeller. One draws
near the life, another must write the name under or
else we cannot understand; for as yet I never met
one person that could find out who Dr. Hare de-
signed by his short, black, fattish, ill-shaped man,
though he has so far exceeded the liberty the Ex-
aminer has taken as to pretend to paint the very
lineaments of the body as well as those of the mind.
Thus far you see what little reason our author has
to complain for the duke of Marlborough's hard
usage; but he grows bolder, and in just despair of
the continuation of a war from which he reaps so
many advantages, attacks what (notwithstanding the
many refinements of some late patriots) I take still
to be an undoubted prerogative of the crown, the
power of making peace and war. This author,
treating the queen with as little consideration as
his patrons used to do, does not so much as consult
her majesty's wisdom and inclination; but sup-
poses, "no British parliament will ever be chosen
here that will ratify an ill peace or will not crush the
bold man who shall propose it." This is like what
he says,
"That the time will come when it will be
as safe to speak truth of the present ministry as it is
to belie the old." What can one suppose from these
threatenings? They are such as in wisdom should
never be made, scarce with an army to back them:
did I not know the loyalty of ours I should fear,
from our author's great intelligence, that they were
in the secret to frighten the ministry and parlia-
ment from taking into consideration the unanimous
wishes and wants of our people, who have sustained
so long a war to the ruin of their trade and a vast
expense of their blood and treasure, upon such dis-
interested views as sure no people besides ever did.
We very well know his reasons for providing peace
should not be made without Spain; yet when all
those kingdoms and dependencies were united to the
empire, the house of Austria was more terrible to
Europe than the house of Bourbon has been since;
and a confederate war was then successfully carried
on as now to fix the balance of power. Let us but
consider what wonderful things this ministry has
already done; let us enter into their character and
capacity, their true love of their country, and sincere
endeavours for its welfare; and then may our hearts
be at rest and conclude that whatever peace they
shall think fit to advise will be the best that they
could obtain for the safety of the church, the glory of
their sovereign, and the ease and happiness of her
whole people. Let them that would oppose it con-
sider how many millions this one year's war hath
cost us, when all the great actions performed by a
great army, with a greater general at their head,
hath been only gaining one single fortress; an action
so much gloried in and so far magnified that we are
made to think it is of equal importance to the most
fortunate campaigns! Let us consider how long we
shall be able to pay such a price for so small a con-
quest! I speak only of our money; having learned
by good example not to value the blood of those poor
wretches that are yearly sacrificed in vast numbers
in trenches and at the foot of walled towns. But
say we were even at the gates of Paris, nay that
Paris were ours,-what allay would that be to our
personal sufferings at home? Let us look into our
gazettes for the number of bankrupts; along the
streets of our metropolis and observe but the decay
of trade, the several shops shut up, and more in
daily apprehension of failing. Let us remove our-
selves into the country and see the penury of coun-
try gentlemen with small estates and numerous fami-
lies that pay in such large proportions to the war;
and there let us inquire how acceptable, nay, how
indispensable, peace is to their further subsisting
True! there is still a great deal of money in Eng-
land: but in whose hands? Those who have had
the management of such prodigious sums as have
been given these last three-and-twenty years, or
pretence of carrying on the war. Inquire what
sums the late lord-treasurer [lord Godolphin] left
the exchequer, and what immense debts in the navy
and elsewhere: how the funds were all anticipated
or loaded. Observe but what industry has been
used that the late party should part with none of
their vast wealth to assist the present exigency, and
then let us wonder at the wisdom and conduct of
that ministry which has been able to wade through
all these difficulties, restore credit, and uphold the
armies abroad: and can we doubt after this of their
entering into the true interests of the nation or dis-
pute the peace they shall think fit to advise the queen
to make? How can our malicious author say, "That
it will be a severe mortification for so great and suc-
cessful a general to see the fruits of his victories
thrown all away at once by a shameful and scandalous
peace; after a war of nine years, carried on with
continued successes, greater than have been known
in story? And how grievous must it be to him to
have no footstep remain except the building at
Woodstock, of all the great advantages which he has
obtained for the queen and the British nation
against their dangerous enemy; and consequently
of his own extraordinary merit to her majesty and
his country?" No! are they about to take the
Garter from him? to unprince, unduke him? to
confiscate all his large possessions except Wood-
stock? those vast sums in the banks of Venice,
Genoa, and Amsterdam? His stately moveables,
valuable paintings, costly jewels, and in a word,
those immense riches of which himself and his lady
(as good an accountant as she is) do not yet know the
extent of? Are all these, I say, to be resumed, and
nothing remaining but that edifice or memento of a
subject's ambition, the stately walls of Blenheim,
built while his gracious benefactress is contented to
take up her residence in an old patched-up palace,
during the burden of a heavy war, without once de-
siring to rebuild Whitehall till by the blessing of
peace her subjects shall be capacitated to undergo
the necessary taxes? I am ashamed to enumerate
those obligations the duke has to his queen and
country, while he has such wretched and ungrateful
advocates, who bellow his uneasiness and exaggerate
his mortifications. It is the misfortune of the times
that we cannot explain to our own people the occa-
sion we have for a peace without letting our enemies
into our necessities, by which they may rise in their
demands. Could there be a poll made and voices
collected from house to house, we should quickly
see how unanimous our people are for a peace; those
excepted who either gain by the war or, concealing
their hoards, pay but small proportions toward it;
an art well known and practised in this great city,
where a person worth many thousands shall get
himself rated at but one, two, or three hundred pounds
stock; while the poor landed man is forced to pay
to the extent because his estate is known and accord-
ingly valued.
To conclude: I think in the hands we are in we
524
INTENDED RIOT AND TUMULT
need not dispute our safety; and if, as this author
would insinuate, even a separate peace should be
intended by some of our allies, after the example of
our wise neighbours the Dutch at the treaty of Nime-
guen, the generality of the people will be easily
brought to agree that it is better than no peace at
all. They know that our ministry are so well ac-
quainted with the true interest of the nation and
are so tender of its welfare, that they will not con-
sent to take one step in this affair but what makes
for the glory of the queen and the happiness of her
subjects.
A TRUE RELATION
OF THE SEVERAL FACTS AND CIRCUMSTANCES OF
THE INTENDED RIOT AND TUMULT ON QUEEN
ELIZABETII'S BIRTHI-DAY:
Gathered from authentic accounts; and published for the
information of all true lovers of our constitution
in church and state.
THE Journal to Stella has the following passages concerning
this designed riot and the pamphlet which contains an account
of it:
This is queen Elizabeth's birth-day, usually kept in this
town by prentices, &c. But the Whigs designed a mighty pro-
cession by midnight; and had laid out a thousand pounds, to
dress up the pope, devil, cardinals, Sacheverell, &c., and carry
them with torches about and burn them. They did it by con-
tribution. Garth gave five guineas. But they were seized
last night by order from the secretary.'
""
I am told the owners are so impudent that they intend to
replevy them by law. I am assured that the figure of the devil
is made as like lord treasurer as they could."
"I saw to-day the pope, the devil, and the other figures of
cardinals, &c., fifteen in all, which have made such a noise.
I have put an understrapper upon writing a twopenny pamphlet,
to give an account of the whole design.
guinea: though her dexterity in getting be as great
as his, he outdoes her in preserving. She has had
a wonderful address in some things! witness the
known story of the diamond, which is as great an
instance of good management on her side as my
lord's making one suit of clothes serve three sets of
buttons can be of his frugality. She seems to have
forgotten or rather outlived all the softer passions,
those beautiful blemishes for which they are often
pitied by our sex but never really hated. Wrath,
ill nature, spleen, and revenge, are those with whom
her ladyship has been in league for many months;
she has even fallen into the common weakness of
unfortunate women, who have recourse to silly fel-
lows called conjurors, or perhaps in imitation of her
mother her ladyship wanted a very witch; she would
give anything to converse with a real witch: at last
she took up with a wizard, an ignorant creature
who pretends to deal with the stars, and by corre-
sponding with thief-catchers helps people to their
goods when they have been stolen. To please her
highness he revived an old cheat of making an
image like the person she most hated, upon which
image he would so far work by enchantment, that
him it represented from that moment should grow
distempered and languish out his short life in diverse
sort of pains. Since the wizard was taken into the
lady's pay a certain great man has happened to be
indisposed, by which means she remains very well
satisfied with the experiment, and imagines this
accident to be owing to the force of her enchant-
ment, from which she promises herself still greater
events. Though we laugh at the folly, we cannot
but remark the malice of the attempt.
On Friday the 16th of November, the heads of
the party met at the new palace, where the late
viceroy recounted to them the happy disposition of
affairs, and concluded "That notwithstanding all
their misfortunes they had still to-morrow for it.”
This person who had so often boasted himself upon
his talent for mischief, invention, lying, and for
making a certain lillibullero song, with which if you
will believe himself he sung a deluded prince out of
three kingdoms, was resolved to try if by the cry of
"No peace, high church, popery, and the pretender,"
he could halloo another in. There were several
London, Nov. 24, 1711.
SIR, I am very sorry so troublesome a companion
as the gout delays the pleasure I expected by your
conversation in town. You desire to know the truth
of what you call "a ridiculous story," inserted in
"Dyer's Letter" and "The Postboy," concerning
a
the figures that were seized in Drury-lane, and
seemed only designed for the diversion of the mob,
to rouse their old antipathy to popery and create figures dressed up; fifteen of them were found in an
new aversion in them to the pretender. If indeed empty house in Drury-lane; the pope, the pretender,
this had been their only intent your reflections and the devil, seated under a state whereof the ca-
would be reasonable, and your compassion pardon-nopy was scarlet stuff trimmed with deep silver fringe;
able. It is an odd sort of good nature to grieve at
the rabble's being disappointed of their sport, or as
you please to term it, "of what would for the time
being have certainly made them very happy." But,
Sir, you will not fail to change your opinion when
I shall tell you that there was never a blacker design
formed unless it were blowing up the parliament
house. No mortal can foresce what might have
been the ill effects if it had once come to execution.
We are well assured, that under pretence of custom
and zeal and what they call an innocent diversion,
lurked a dangerous conspiracy: for whoever goes
about to disturb the public peace and tranquillity
must needs be enemies to the queen and her govern-
ment,
You have been informed of the surprising gene-
rosity and fit of housekeeping the German princess
has been guilty of this summer at her country seat,
in direct contradiction to her former thrifty manage-
ment; yet, to do her justice, she is not so parsimo-
nious as her lord nor sets half that value upon a
"Newspapers read by the Tories, especially by the country
gentlemen.
the pope was as fine as a pope need to be, the devil
as terrible, the pretender habited in scarlet laced
with silver, a full fair long periwig, and a hat and
feather. They had all white gloves, not excepting
the very devils, which whether quite so proper I
leave to the learned. This machine was designed
to be borne upon men's shoulders; the long trains
dependant from the figures were to conceal those
that carried them. Six devils were to appear as
drawing the chariot, to be followed by four cardinals
in fine proper habits; four jesuits and four Francis-
can friars, each with a pair of white gloves on, a
pair of beads, and a flaming or if you please a bloody
falchion in their hands. Pray judge if such a pa-
rade should at any time appear without the proper
disposition of lights, &c., as was here intended; ˆdo
you not believe it would be a sufficient call to the
multitude; and that they would never forsake it till
their curiosity had been satisfied to the full? Any
man in his senses may find this was a deliberate as
well as a great expense. To prepare men's minds
for sedition one Stoughton's sermon (which was
burnt by the common hangman in Ireland by order
of the house of lords), preached at St. Patrick's in
ON QUEEN ELIZABETH'S BIRTH-DAY.
525
Dublin and printed there, was that very week re-
printed here and handed about with extreme dili-
gence: and to fill the people with false fear and
terror they had some days before reported that the
queen was dangerously ill of the gout in her stomach
and bowels. The very day of the designed proces-
sion it was whispered upon the Exchange and all
over the city that she was dead. A gentlewoman
that makes wax-work declares "That some time
before, certain persons of quality as she judged,
who called one another sir Harry, sir John, sir
James, &c., came to her house and bespoke several
wax-work figures, one for a lady; they agreed to
her price, paid half in hand and the rest when they
fetched them away." These figures are not yet
taken. One was designed to represent the lord-
treasurer, the lady Mrs. Masham, and the rest the
other great officers of the court, with Dr. Sacheverell,
which the workwoman was ordered to make as like
his picture as possibly she could. A certain lady
renowned for beauty at the princess's palace desired
that she might have the dressing up of the young
handsome statesman b whose bright parts are so ter-
rible to the enemies of his country; in order to it she
proposed borrowing from the playhouse Esop's large
white horsehair periwig. Her lorde furnished out
the rest of the materials from the queen's wardrobe.
No wonder he should be an enemy to peace when
his father gains so much by the continuance of the
war, nor that a certain young duchess was so eager
to have him go in disguise with the viceroy when
his absence was convenient!
Further to convince you that this was a premedi-
tated design, and carried on in all it forms, proper
persons had been busy beforehand to secure a thou-
sand mob, to carry lights at this goodly procession,
One of these agents came to a victualling-house in
Clare Market; he called for drink and the master of
the house, of whom he inquired, "If he could pro-
cure him forty stout fellows to carry flambeaux on
Saturday the 17th instant, to meet there at one
o'clock? They should have a crown apiece in hand,
and whatever they drank till five he would be there
to see discharged." At such a proposal mine host
pricked up his ears, and told his honour, "His
honour need not fear but that he might have as many
as his honour pleased at that price." Accordingly
he fetched in several from the market, butchers,
tripe-men, poulterers' prentices, who joyfully listed
themselves against the day, because it was to be a
holiday and they should not stand in need of their
masters' leave; "for on queen Bess's day," they
said, "they always went out of course." The landlord
promised to make up the complement by the ap-
pointed time with honest lads, who would be glad to
get their bellies full of drink and a crown apiece in
an honest way. All was agreed upon, the gentleman
paid the reckoning, which came to a considerable
sum in beer and brandy for his mob, and departed
with assurance of being there at one o'clock to meet
his myrmidons; but the matter being discovered
he has not been heard of since, to the great disap-
pointment of the good man and the people he had
engaged. The like was done in several parts of the
town. They had secured to the number as I told
you of one thousand persons, who were so hired
to carry lights, though they knew not to what end,
doubtless for a burial, among whom were many
of the very foot guards. Drinking from one to five,
it is plain they were to be made drunk, the better to
Lady Mary. Churchill, duchess of Montaguo, youngest
daughter of John duke of Marlborough.
n
Mr. secretary St. John.
• John, the second duke of Montague.
d Illuminated by flambeaux.
qualify them for what mischief was designed by their
proper leaders. The viceroy [lord Wharton], with
some others of as good and two or three of better
rank than himself, were resolved to act in disguise;
the viceroy like a seaman, in which he hoped to
outdo Massaniello of Naples, whose fame he very
much envies for the mighty mischief he occasioned.
His busy head was the first inventor of the design,
and he would take it very ill if he were robbed of the
glory. He had lately proved the power of an acci-
dental mob, and therefore hoped much better from
a premeditated one; he did not doubt inflaming them
to his wish by the noise of popery and the pretender,
by which they would be put into a humour to burn
even Dr. Sacheverell and the other effigies. At their
several bonfires where the parade was to make a
stand, the preliminary articles were to be thrown in,
with a cry of "No peace ;" and proper messengers
were to come galloping as if like to break their necks,
their horses all in a foam, who should cry out, "The
queen, the queen, was dead at Hampton Court."
At the same time the duke of Marlborough was to
make his entry through Aldgate where he was to be
met with the cry of "Victory, Bouchain, the lines,
no peace, no peace." If matters had once come to
this pass, I do not see what could have hindered the
leaders from doing all the mischief they desired, from
exalting and pulling down whom they pleased, nor
from executing during the rage of the people, pre-
possessed as they would be with the news of the
queen's death, whatever violence, injustice, and
cruelty, they should think fit. They had resolved
before what houses should be burnt. They were to
begin with one in Essex-street, where the commis-
sioners of accounts meet, from whence a late dis-
covery has been made of vast sums annually received
by a great man for his permission to serve the army
with bread. They said, "Harley should have better
luck than they expected if he escaped de Witting;
they would set people to watch him all that day that
they might know where to find him when they had
occasion." And truly who can answer for the conse-
quence of such a tumult, the rage of a mad drunken
populace, fomented by such incendiaries (for the
whole party, to a man, were engaged to be there)? I
do not see how the city could have escaped destruc-
tion. There were many to kindle fires, none to put
them out. The Spectator who ought to be but a
looker on, was to have been an assistant, that seeing
London in a flame, he might have opportunity to
paint after the life, and remark the behaviour of the
people in the ruin of their country, so to have made a
diverting Spectator. But I cannot but look up to
God Almighty with praise for our deliverance, and
really think we have very much need of a thanks-
giving; for in all probability, the mischief had been
universal and irremediable. I tremble to think what
lengths they would have gone: I dare not so much
as imagine it. They had taken Massaniello's in-
surrection for a precedent, by which all who were
not directly of their own party had suffered, as
may be gathered from what we know of their
nature, and by what is already discovered, though
there is doubtless a great deal more behind. As soon
as the figures were seized, they dispatched away a
messenger express to the place where it was known
the duke intended to land, to tell him he might now
take his own time; there was no occasion "for his
being on the 17th instant, by seven at night, at Ald-
gate;" and so he lay that night five miles short of
the town.
However the viceroy may value himself upon this
design, he seems but to have copied my lord Shaftes-
a The riots in the cause of Dr. Sacheverell.
526
INTENDED RIOT AND TUMULT, &c.
bury in 1679, on the same anniversary. It is well
known, by the favour of the mob, they hoped then
to have made the duke of Monmouth king, who was
planted at sir Thomas Fowls's at Temple bar, to wait
the event; while the rest of the great men of his
party were over the way at Henry VIII's tavern.
King Charles had been persuaded to come to sir
Francis Child's to see the procession; but before it
began, he had private notice given him to retire, for
fear of what mischief the mob might be wrought up
to. He did so; which ruined the design they had
to seize on his person and proclaim the duke king.
This was the scheme our modern politicians went
upon. One of them was heard to say, "They must
have more diversions than one, i. e. burning, for the
good people of London; since the mob loved to
create as well as to destroy."
By this time, I do not doubt, sir, but you are
thoroughly convinced of the innocence of this in-
tended procession, which they publicly avow, and
tell the ministry they are welcome to make what
they can of it, knowing themselves safe by having
only intended not acted the mischief; if it had
once come to that, they would have been so far
above the fear of punishment for their own crimes
as to become executioners of the innocent.
Truly I think the malice of that party is immortal,
since not to be satiated with twenty-three years'
plunder, the blood of so many wretches, nor the im-
mense debt with which they have burdened us.
Through the unexampled goodness of the queen
and the lenity of the other parts of the legislature,
they are suffered to sit down unmolested, to bask
and revel in that wealth they have so unjustly ac-
quired: yet they pursue their principles with un-
wearied industry, club their wit, money, politics,
toward restoring their party to that power from
whence they are fallen; which, since they find so
difficult, they take care by all methods to disturb
and vilify those who are in possession of it.
Peace
is such a bitter pill they know not how to swallow;
to poison the people against it they try every nail,
and have at last hit of one they think will go, and
that they drive to the head. They cry, "No peace!"
till the trade of our nation be entirely given up to
our neighbours. Thus they would carry on the
public good of Europe at the expense of our private
destruction. They cry, "Our trade will be ruined
if the Spanish West Indies remain to a son of
France;" though the death of his father may cause
Philip to forget his birth and country, which he left
so young. After the decease of his grandfather he
will be only the brother of a haughty rough-natured
king, who in all probability may give him many
occasions to become every day more and more a
Spaniard.
They do not allow the dauphin's or the emperor's
death have made an alteration in affairs, and confide
all things to the supine temper of the Austrian
princes; from whence they conclude there can be
no danger in trusting half Europe to the easy un-
active hands of such an emperor. But may not
another Charles V. arise? another Philip II.? who,
though not possessed of the Austrian territories,
gave more trouble and terror to England than ever
she felt from France; inasmuch as had not the scas
and winds fought our battles, their invincible Armada
had certainly brought upon us slavery and a popish
queen! Neither is it a new thing for princes to im-
prove as well as degenerate. Power generally brings
a change of temper. Philip de Comines tells us,
"That the great duke of Burgundy in his youth
hated the thoughts of war and the fatigue of the field.
After he had fought and gained one battle he loved
|
nothing else; and could never be easy in peace, but
led all his life in war, and at length died in it; for
want of other enemies fighting against the poor
barren Swissers, who were possessed of nothing
worth contending for."
But it is not reason, or even facts, that can subdue
this stubborn party. They bear down all by noise
and misrepresentation. They are but will not seem
convinced, and make it their business to prevent
others from being so. If they can but rail and raise
a clamour they hope to be believed, though the
miserable effects of their mal-administration are ten
thousand to one against them; a festering obvious
sore, which when it can be healed we know not,
though the most famous artists apply their constant
Their aversion to any
skill to endeavour at a cure.
government but their own is unalterable; like some
rivers that are said to pass through without min-
gling with the sea, though disappearing for a time,
they rise the same and never change their nature.
I am, sir, &c.
The preceding tract will be best illustrated by the
following account of the subject of it, transcribed
from a folio half-sheet published in 1711 :—
"An account of the mock procession of burning
the pope and the chevalier de St. George, intended
to be performed on the 17th instant, being the an-
niversary of queen Elizabeth of pious and glorious
memory.
"The owners of the pope, the chevalier de St.
George, fourteen cardinals, and as many devils,
which were taken out of a house in Drury-lane at
midnight between the 16th and 17th instant, and
exposed to view at the Cockpit for nothing (on the
latter of those days), think fit to acquaint the world
that their intention in making them was, with those
and other images (in case their goods had not been
forcibly taken away), to have formed the following
procession:-
"Twenty watchmen to clear the way, with link-
boys lighting them on each side.
"Twenty-four bagpipes marching four and four,
and playing the memorable tune of Lillibullero.
"Ten watchmen marching two and two, to pre-
vent disorder.
"Four drums in mourning, with the pope's arms
in their caps.
"A figure representing cardinal Gualteri, lately
made by the pretender protector of the English
nation, looking down on the ground in a sorrowful
posture; his train supported by two missionaries
from Rome, supposed to be now in England.
"Two pages, throwing beads, bulls, pardons, and
indulgences.
"Two jack-puddings sprinkling holy water.
"Twelve hautboys playing the tune of the Green-
wood-tree.
"Two lackeys on each side of them bearing
streamers, with these words, Nolumus Leges An-
gliæ mutare, being the device on the colours of the
right reverend the bishop of London's troops when
he marched into Oxford in the year 1688.
"Six beadles with protestant flails in their hands.
"These followed by four persons bearing streamers,
each with the pictures of the seven bishops who were
sent to the Tower.
"Twelve monks, representing the fellows who
were put into Magdalen-college in Oxford on the
expulsion of the protestants.
"Twelve streamer-bearers with different devices,
representing sandals, ropes, beads, bald pates, and
big-bellied nuns.
A NEW WAY OF SELLING PLACES AT COURT.
527
"A lawyer, representing the clerk of the high | trade is daily driven with imaginary stocks, and
commission court.
"Twelve heralds marching one after another at a
great distance, with pamphlets setting forth king
James II.'s power of dispensing with the test and
penal laws.
"On each side of the heralds fifty links.
"After these four fat friars in their habits, streamers
carried over their heads, with these words, Eat and
pray.'
"Four Jesuits in English habits, with flower-de-
luces on their shoulders, inscribed, Indefeasible,'
and masks on their faces, on which is writ The
house of Hanover.'
"Four Jesuits in their proper habits.
"Four cardinals of Rome in their red hats curi-
ously wrought.
"The pope under a magnificent canopy, with a
right silver fringe, accompanied by the chevalier St.
George on the left and his counsellor the devil on
his right.
"The whole procession closed by twenty streamers,
on each of which was wrought these words:
And at
many thousands bought and sold to great advantage
by those who were not worth a groat. This you
challenged me to match with all my knowledge in
the lower arts of the court. I confess, you had then
the better of the argument; and I was forced to
yield, which I would hardly do at present if the con-
troversy were to be resumed: I could now make
you acknowledge that what you in the city call
selling the bear's skin," does not deserve the
name, when compared with the dexterity of one of
our artists. I shall leave the decision of this matter
to yourself, after you have received the following
story, which I shall most faithfully relate.
There is a certain petty retainer to the court who
has no employment at all himself, but is a partner
for life to one that has. This gentleman resides
constantly with his family among us, where being
wholly at leisure he is consequently very speculative,
perpetually turning his thoughts to improve those
happy talents that nature has given him. He has
maturely considered with himself the strange opi-
nions that people at distance have of courts.
Strangers are apt to think that whoever has an
apartment in the royal palace can go through the
lodgings as if he were at home and talk familiarly
with every one he meets, must needs have at any
time a dozen or two of employments in his power;
the least word from him to a great man, or upon ex-
God bless queen Anne, the nation's great defender!
Keep out the French, the pope, and the pretender.
"In this order it was intended, with proper re-
liefs of lights at several stations in the march, to go
through Drury-lane, Long-acre, Gerrard-street,
Piccadilly, Germain-street, St. James's-square, Pell-
mell, Strand, Catherine-street, Russell-street, Drury-traordinary occasions to the queen herself, would
lane, Great Queen-street, Little Queen-street, Hol-
bourn, Newgate-street, Cornhill, Bishopsgate-street,
where they were to wheel about and return thorough
to St. Paul's-churchyard to Fleet-street.
the Temple, before the statue of that illustrious lady
whose anniversary was then celebrated, that queen
wearing a veil, on which are drawn the picture of
her present majesty, and under it the battles of
Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, and the passes of
the lines in this present year, 1711, after proper
ditties were sung, the pretender was to have been
committed to the flames, being first absolved by the
cardinal Gualteri. After that the said cardinal was
to be absolved by the pope, and burnt. And then
the devil was to jump into the flames with his holi-
ness in his arms.
"And let all the people say-Amen."
THE NEW WAY
OF SELLING PLACES AT COURT:
IN A LETTER FROM A SMALL COURTIER TO A
GREAT STOCKJOBBER.
Omnia Romæ
Cum pretio."-JUVENAL, iii. 183.
"DID I tell you of a scoundrel about the court, that sells em-
ployments to ignorant people and cheats them of their money?
He lately made a bargain for the vice-chamberlain's place for
7000l., and had received some guineas earnest; but the whole
thing was discovered the other day, and examination taken of
it by lord Dartmouth, and I hope he will be swinged. The
vice chamberlain told me several particulars of it last night at
lord Masham's.”—Journal to Stellà, March 24, 1711-12.
IN that friendly dispute which happened between us
some time ago, wherein you endeavoured to prove that
the city politics outdid those of the court, I remen-
ber there was nothing upon which you seemed to
pride yourself more than that mystery of your bre-
thren in Exchange Alley, which is usually called
selling the bear's skin;" whereby a very beneficial
certainly do the business! This ignorance has often
been made very good use of by dexterous men
among us. Old courtiers will tell you twenty stories
of Harry Killigrew, Fleetwood, Sheppard,ª and
others, who would often sell places that were never
in being and dispose of others a good pennyworth
before they were vacant; how the privy garden at
Whitehall was actually sold and an artist sent to
measure it; how one man was made curtain-lifter
to the king and another his majesty's goldfinder: so
that our predecessors must be allowed their due
honour. Neither do I at all pretend that the hero
I am now celebrating was the first inventor of that
art; wherein it must however be granted that he
hath made most wonderful improvements.
This gentleman, whom I take leave to call by the
name of Guzinan, in imitation of a famous Spanish
deceiver of that name, having been formerly turned
out of one or two employments for no other crime
than that of endeavouring to raise their value, has
ever since employed his credit and power for the
service of others; and where he could not secure
them in reality has been content to feed their imagi-
nations, which to a great part of mankind is full as
well. It is true, he hath done all this with a pru-
dent regard to his own interest; yet whoever has
trafficked with him cannot but own that he sells at
reasonable rates, and is so modest withal that he is
content the credit of taking your money should rest
on the greatest men in England rather than himself.
He begged a small employment for one of his cus-
tomers from a lord of the admiralty, then told his
client that the great man must have a hundred
guineas presented him in a handsome manner."
Our placejobber brought an old lame horse of his
own, and said "the admiral asked a hundred guineas
for it" the other bought the horse without offering
to cheapen him or look in his mouth.
Two or three such achievements as these gave our
adventurer the courage for some time past to deal by
the great and to take all employments at court into
his own hands. And though he and his family are
• Well known as men of pleasure, wit, and humour, in the
court of Charles II
528
A NEW WAY OF SELLING PLACES AT COURT.
firm adherents to the honest party and furious
against the present ministry (as I speak it to our
honour, no small number of us are), yet in the dis-
posal of places he was very impartial and gave every
one their choice. He had a standing agent, to whom
all people applied themselves that wanted any em-
ployment, who had them ready of all sizes, to fit
whatever customer came, from twenty to a thousand
pounds a-year.
If the question be asked, Why he takes no em-
ployment himself? he readily answers, That he
might, whenever he pleased, be in the commission
of the customs, the excise, or of trade: but does not
think it worth his while; because, without stirring
from court or giving himself any trouble, he can by
his credit oblige honest gentlemen with employ-❘
ments, and at the same time make better advantage
to himself. He hath several ways to establish a re-
putation of his interest at court. Sometimes, as I
have already observed, he hath actually begged small
offices and disposed of them to his clients. Besides,
by living in her majesty's palace and being indus-
trious at picking out secrets, he often finds where
preferment is likely to go even before those who are
to be preferred can have any notice of it themselves;
then he immediately searches out for them, tells
them of their merits, asks them how they would like
of such an employment, and promises by his power
at court to get it for them: but withal gives them a
hint that great men will take money, though they
will not be known to do it; that it therefore must
be done by a second hand, for which he proffers his
service, tells them what sum will be convenient, and
then sinks it in his own pocket, beside what is given
to him in gratitude for his solicitations and good
will this gives him credit to pursue his trade of
placejobbing. Whoever hath a mind for an employ-
ment at court or anywhere else, goes to Guzman's
agent, and he reads over to the candidate a list of
places with their profit and salaries. When one is
fixed upon, the agent names the known Don Guz-
man as a person to be depended upon, tells the client
he must send his honour a hamper of wine; if the
place they are in treaty for be considerable, a hogs-
head. At next meeting the price is agreed on; but
unfortunately this employment is half promised to
another: however, he believes that that difficulty
may be removed for twenty or thirty guineas; which
being but a trifle, is immediately given. After two
or three meetings more, perhaps, the bubble hath
access to the don himself; who assumes great airs,
says the thing shall be done, he has already spoken
to the queen or lord treasurer. At parting, the
agent tells the officer elect there is immediate occa-
sion for forty or fifty guineas, to be given among
clerks, or servants, or some great minister. Thus
the poor placehunter is drilled on from one month
to another, perpetually squeezed of ready money,
and nothing done. This trade Don Guzman has
carried on for many years and frequently with five
or six dupes in hand at a time, and perhaps all of
them for one place. I know it will be the wonder
of many people, as it has been mine, how such im-
postures as these could be so frequently repeated,
and how so many disappointed people could be kept
from making a noise and clamour that may ruin the
trade and credit of this bold projector; but it is with
him as with almanack makers, who gain more repu-
tation by one right guess than they lose by a thou-
sand wrong ones. Besides, I have already observed
that once or twice in his life, he did actually provide
for one or two persons; further, it was his constant
rule, whatever employment was given away, to as-
sure his clients that he had the chief hand in dispos-
|
ing of it. When a man had no more to give or was
weary of attending, the excuse was, either that he
had some private enemies or the queen was engaged
for that turn or that he must think of something
else: and then it was a new business, required new
fees, and new hampers of wine; or lastly, Don Guz-
man was not to be seen, or talked cold and dry, or
in very great haste, and so the matter dwindled to
nothing: the poor pretender to an employment dis-
covered the cheat too late, was often ashamed to
complain, and was only laughed at when he did.
This matter went so
Having thus described some few of the qualifica-
tions which have so much distinguished this worthy
manager, I shall crown all with informing you of
the particulars of a late achievement that will give
About two months
him an everlasting renown.
ago, a gentleman of a good fortune had a mind to
buy some considerable employment in the court, and
sent a solicitor to negotiate this affair with Don
Guzman's agent, who after one or two meetings
told him the vice-chamberlain's employment was to
be disposed of, the person who now enjoyed it being
wholly out of favour with the queen [Thomas Coke,
esq.]; that the choice of his successor was in Don
Guzman's power; that 7000l. was the price, whereof
40007. was to be given to a lady who was foster-
sister to the queen; 20007. to the present vice-cham-
berlain in consideration of his being turned out;
and the remaining thousand to be divided between
the great don and the two small agents: this was
the result after several meetings, after two or three
hampers of wine had been sent to St. James's, and
some guineas given to facilitate the putting off a
bargain which, as pretended, was begun for the em-
ployment to another person.
far, that notes were interchangeably given between
the two agents and their principal, as well relating
to the thousand pounds which was to be divided
Our projector
among them as to the main sum.
was likewise very curious to know whether the new
vice-chamberlain could speak French, which he said
was absolutely necessary to his office; whether he
was well-fashioned, had a genteel manner and po-
lite conversation; and directed that the person him-
self should upon an appointed day be seen walking
in the garden before St. James's house, that the lady,
the queen's foster-sister, might judge of his mien
whether he were a sightly man and by his appear-
ance qualified for so great an employment. To carry
the imposture further, one Sunday when, in the
lord-chamberlain's [the duke of Shrewsbury] ab-
sence, Mr. vice-chamberlain led her majesty to
chapel, Don Guzman being there with his solicitor,
said to him with an expressive sneer and a sort of
rapture,
rapture, "Ah sir, what happiness! I am ravished to
think of it. I wish your friend was here now to
see the vice-chamberlain handing the queen: I
would make him give the other thousand pounds
for his employment."
These are the circumstances of this story as near
as I can remember. How the ingenious don could
have got off clean from this business I cannot possi-
bly imagine: but it unfortunately happened that he
was not put to the trial of showing his dexterity;
for the vice-chamberlain, by what means I could
never yet learn, got a little light into the matter.
He was told that somebody had been treating for
his place, and information given him where to find
the solicitor of the person who was to succeed him.
He immediately sent for the man; who (not con-
ceiving himself to be engaged in a dishonest action
and therefore conscious of no guilt) very freely told
him all that he knew; and as he had good reason,
was as angry at the cheat put upon him and his
THE STORY OF THE ST. ALBAN'S GHOST.
529
friend as the vice-chamberlain himself; whereupon
poor don Guzman and his two agents were, at Mr.
Vice-chamberlain's request, examined before a prin-
cipal secretary of state, and their examinations taken
in writing. But here I must with shame confess
that our hero's behaviour was much below his cha-
racter; he shuffled and dodged, denied and affirmed,
contradicted himself every moment, owned the fact,
yet insisted on his honour and innocency. In short
his whole demeanour was such that the rawest
stock-jobber in Exchange-alley would blush to see
it. It is true he hath since in some manner re-
covered his reputation; he talks boldly wherever he
comes as if he were the party injured, and as if he
expected satisfaction; and what is still more he-
roical, goes on in his old trade of disposing places,
though not of such great consideration.
How the affair will end I cannot tell; the vice-
chamberlain, between generosity and contempt, not
being hitherto very forward in carrying it to a formal
prosecution; and the rest of the court contenting
themselves, some with laughing and some in lifting
up their eyes with admiration.
However I think the matter well deserves to be
recorded, both for the honour of the manager and
to let you and the world know that great abilities
and dexterity are not confined to Exchange-alley.
I am, sir, yours, &c.
THE STORY
OF THE ST. ALBAN'S GHOST;
OR, THE APPARITION OF MOTHER HAGGY.
Collected from the best manuscripts.
Sola, Novum Dictuq., Nefas, Harpyia Celano
Prodigium canit, et tristes denuntiat Iras.-VIRGIL.
THE FOURTH EDITION: FROM A COLLECTION OF TRACTS IN THE
BRITISH MUSEUM.
The following jeu d'esprit is thus alluded to by the reputed
author, who affects to disavow it, in his Journal to Stella, Feb.
22: "I went to lord Masham's to-night, and lady Masham
made me read her a pretty twopenny pamphlet just published,
called The St. Alban's Ghost. I thought I had writ it my-
self; so did they; but I did not."
I CAN scarcely say whether we ought to attribute the
multitude of ghosts and apparitions which were so
common in the days of our forefathers to the igno-
rance of the people or the impositions of the priest.
The Romish clergy found it undoubtedly for their
interest to deceive them, and the superstition of the
people laid themselves open to receive whatsoever
they thought proper to inculcate. Hence it is that
their traditions are little else than the miracles and
achievements of unbodied heroes, a sort of spiritual
romance, so artfully carried on and delivered in so
probable a manner as may easily pass for truth on
those of an uncultivated capacity or a credulous dis-
position. Our sectarists indeed still retain the cre-
dulity as well as some of the tenets of that church;
and apparitions and such-like are still the bugbears
made use of by some of the most celebrated of their
holders forth to terrify the old women of their con-
gregation (who are their surest customers), and en-
large their quarterly subscriptions. I know one of
these ambidexters who never fails of ten or twenty
pounds more than ordinary by nicking something
wonderful in due time; he often clothes his whole
family by the apparition of a person lately executed
at Tyburn, or a whale seen at Greenwich or there-
abouts; and I am credibly informed that his wife
has made a visit with a brand new sable tippet on,
since the death of the Tower lions.
VOL. I.
But as these things will pass upon none but the
ignorant and superstitious, so there are others that
will believe nothing of this nature even upon the
clearest evidence. There are it must be owned but
very few of these accounts to be depended on; some
however are so palpable, and testified by so good
authority, by those of such undoubted credit and so
discerning a curiosity, that there is no room to doubt
of their veracity, and which none but a sceptic can
disbelieve. Such is the following story of Mother
Haggy of St. Alban's in the reign of king James I.:
the mighty pranks she played in her lifetime, and
her apparition afterwards, made such a noise both
at home and abroad and were so terrible to the
neighbourhood, that the country people to this day
cannot hear the mention of her name without the
most disinal apprehensions. The injuries they re-
ceived from the sorceries and incantations of the
mother, and the injustice and oppression of the son
and daughter, have made so deep an impression
upon their minds and begot such an hereditary
aversion to their memory, that they never speak of
them without the bitterest curses and imprecations.
I have made it my business, being at St. Alban's
lately, to inquire more particularly into this matter,
and the helps I have received from the most noted
men of erudition in this city have been consider-
able, and to whom I make my public acknowledg-
ment. The charges I have been at in getting manu-
scripts and labour in collating them, the reconciling
the disputes about the most material circumstances
and adjusting the various readings, as they have
taken me a considerable time, so I hope they may
be done to the satisfaction of my reader. I wish I
could have time to distinguish by an asterism the
circumstances delivered by tradition only from those
of the manuscripts, which I was advised to do by
my worthy friend the rev. Mr. Whiston, who had
he not been employed otherwise might have been a
very proper person to have undertaken such a per-
formance.
The best manuscripts are now in the hands of the
ingenious Dr. Garth, where they are left for the
curious to peruse, and where any clergyman may be
welcome; for however he may have been abused by
those who deny him to be the author of the Dispen-
sary, and taxed by others with principles and prac-
tices unbecoming a man of his sense and probity,
yet I will be bold to say in his defence that I believe
he is as good a christian as he is a poet, and if he
publishes anything on the late Dd My I
don't question but it will be interspersed with as
many precepts of revealed religion as the subject
is capable of. Those refined pieces that the doctor
has been pleased to own since the writing of the
Dispensary have been looked upon by the lewd de-
bauched critics of the town to be dull and insipid,
for no other reason but because they are grave and
sober; but this I leave for others to determine, and
can say for his sincerity that I am assured he believes
the following relation as much as any of us all.
At the
Mother Haggy was married to a plain homespun
yeoman of St. Alban's, and lived in good repute for
some years; the place of her birth is disputed by
some of the most celebrated moderns, though they
have a tradition in the country that she was never
born at all, and which is most probable.
birth of her daughter Haggite something happened
very remarkable, and which gave occasion to the
neighbourhood to mistrust she had a correspondence
with Old Nick, as was confirmed afterwards beyond
the possibility of disproof. The neighbours were
got together at a merry-making, as they term it in
the country, when the old woman's high-crowned
2 M
530
THE STORY OF
There lived at that time in the neighbourhood
two brothers of a great family, persons of a vast es-
tate and character and extremely kind to their ser-
vants and dependants. Haggite, by her mother's
interest, was got into this family, and Avaro, who
was afterwards her husband, was the huntsman's
boy. He was a lad of a fine complexion, good fea-
tures, and agreeable to the fair sex, but wanted the
capacity of some of his fellow-servants; though he
got a reputation afterwards for a man of courage, but
upon no other grounds than by setting the country
fellows to cudgelling or boxing, and being a spec-
tator of a broken head and a bloody nose.
hat, that had been thrown upon the bed's tester
during the heat of the engagement, leaped with a
wonderful agility into the cradle, and being catched
at by the nurse was metamorphosed into a coronet,
which, according to her description, was not much
unlike that of a German prince; but it soon broke
into a thousand pieces. "Such," cries old Mother
Haggy, "will be the fortune of my daughter, and
such her fall." The company took but little notice
of what she said, being surprised at the circumstance
of the hat. But this is fact, says the reverend and
honourable Lumley Lloyd, and my grandmother,
who was a person of condition, told me, says he,
she knew the man who knew the woman who was,
said she, in the room at that instant.
The very
same night I saw a comet, neither have I any occa-
sion to tell a lie as to this particular, says my author,
brandishing its tail in a very surprising manner in
the air; but upon the breaking of a cloud I could
discern, continues he, a clergyman at the head of a
body of his own cloth, and followed by an innumer-gite, by granting her favours to any one who would
able train of laity, who coming towards the comet
it disappeared.
This was the first time mother Haggy became
suspected, and it was the opinion of the wisest of
the parish that they should petition the king to send
her to be tried for a witch by the presbytery of
Scotland. How this passed off I cannot tell, but cer-
tain it is that some of the great ones of the town
were in with her, and it is said she was serviceable
to them in their amours; she had a wash that would
make the skin of a blackamoor as white as alabaster,
and another that would restore the loss of a maid-
enhead without hinderance of business
or the
the
knowledge of any one about them. She tried this
experiment so often upon her daughter Haggite that
more than twenty were satisfied they had her vir-
ginity before marriage.
She soon got such a reputation all about the coun-
try that there was not a cow, a smock, or a silver
spoon lost, but they came to her to inquire after it ;
all the young people flocked to have their fortunes
told, which, they say, she never missed. She told
Haggite's husband he should grow rich and be a
great man, but by his covetousness and griping of
the poor should come to an ill end: all which hap-
pened so exactly that there are several old folks in
our town who can remember it as if it was but
yesterday.
She has been often seen to ride full gallop upon a
broomstick at noonday, and swim over a river in a
kettledrum. Sometimes she would appear in the
shape of a lioness, and at other times of a hen
or a cat; but I have heard could not turn her-
self into a male creature, or walk over two straws
across. There were never known so many great
winds as about that time, or so much mischief done
by them; the pigs grunted and the screech-owls
hooted oftener than usual; a horse was found dead
one morning with hay in his mouth, and a large
overgrown jack was caught in a fish-pond there-
abouts with a silver tobacco-box in his belly; several
women were brought to bed of two children, some
miscarried, and old folks died very frequently.
These things could not choose but breed a great
combustion in the town, as they call it, and every-
body certainly had rejoiced at her death had she
not been succeeded by a son and daughter, who,
though they were no conjurors, were altogether as
terrible to the neighbourhood. She had two daugh-
ters, one of which was married to a man who went
beyond sea; the other, her daughter Haggite, to
Avaro [Marlborough], whom we shall have occasion
to mention in the sequel of this story.
|
There are several authentic accounts of the be-
haviour of these two in their respective stations,
and by what means they made an advancement of
their fortunes. There are several relations, I say,
now extant that tell us how one of these great
brothers took Avaro's sister for his mistress, which
was the foundation of his preferment, and how lag-
go to the expense of them, became extremely wealthy,
and how both had gained the art of getting money
out of everybody they had to do with, and by the
most dishonourable methods. Never, perhaps, was
any couple so matched in everything as these or so
fit for one another; a couple so linked by the bonds
of iniquity as well as marriage, that it is impossible
to tell which had the greatest crimes to answer for.
It will be needless to relate the fortune of the
brothers, who were their successive masters, and the
favours they bestowed on them. It is sufficient that
the estate came at last to a daughter of the younger
brother, a lady who was the admiration of the age
she lived in and the darling of the whole country,
and who had been attended from her infancy by
Haggite.
Then it was Avaro began his tyranny; he was in-
trusted with all the affairs of consequence, and
there was nothing done without his knowledge.
He married his daughters to some of the most con-
siderable estates in the neighbourhood, and was re-
lated by marriage to one Baconface [Godolphin], a
sort of bailiff to his lady. He and Baconface and
Haggite got into possession as it were of their lady's
estate, and carried it with so high a hand, were so
haughty to the rich and oppressive to the poor, that
they quickly began to make themselves odious; but
for their better security they formed a sort of con-
federacy with one Dammyblood [Wharton]; Clumzy
[Sunderland], their son-in-law; Splitcause [Somers],
an attorney; and Mouse [Halifax], a noted ballad-
maker, and some others. As soon as they had done
this they began so to domincer that there was no
living for those who would not compliment or com-
ply with them in their villany. Haggite cried,
Lord, madam, to her mistress, it must be so; Avaro
swore, by G-d; and Baconface shook his head and
looked dismally. They made every tenant pay a
tax, and every servant considerably out of his wages,
toward the mounding their lady's estate as they
pretended, but most part of it went into their own
pockets. Once upon a time the tenants grum-
bling at their proceedings, Clumzy, the son-in-law,
brought in a parcel of beggars to settle upon the
estate. Thus they lived for some years, till they
grew richer than their mistress, and were perhaps
the richest servants in the world: nay, what is the
most remarkable and will scarcely find belief in
future ages, they began at last to deny her title to
the estate and affirm she held it only by their per-
mission and connivance.
Things were come to this pass when one of the
tenants' sons from Oxford [Sacheverell] preached up
THE ST. ALBAN'S GHOST.
531
obedience to their lady, and the necessity of their
downfall who opposed it. This opened the eyes of
all the honest tenants, but enraged Avaro and his
party to that degree that they had hired a pack of
managed bull-dogs with a design to bait him, and
had done it infallibly had not the gentry interposed,
and the country people run in to his assistance.
These with much ado muzzled the dogs and peti-
tioned their lady to discard the mismanagers, who
consented to it.
Great were the endeavours and great the struggles
of the faction, for so they were called, to keep them-
selves in power, as the histories of those times men-
tion. They stirred up all their lady's acquaintance
to speak to her in their behalf, wrote letters to and
fro, swore and cursed, laughed and cried, told the
most abominable and inconsistent lies, lavished away
their beef, pudding, and October most unmercifully,
and made several jointed babies to show for sights
and please the tenants' sons about Christmas.
Old Drybones [Burnet] was then the parson of the
parish, a man of the most notorious character, who
would change his principles at any time to serve a turn,
preach or pray extempore, talk nonsense or anything
else, for the advancement of Avaro and his faction.
He was looked upon to be the greatest artist in leger-
demain in that country, and had a way of showing
the pope and little master in a box, but the figures
were so very small it was impossible to discern them.
He was hired it is supposed to tax the new servants
with popery, together with their mistress, which he
preached in several churches thereabouts; but his
character was too well known to make anything
credited that came from him.
There are several particulars related both by tra-
dition and the manuscripts concerning the turning
out of these servants, which would require greater
volumes than I design. It is enough that notwith-
standing their endeavours they were discarded, and
the lady chose her new servants out of the most
honest and substantial of her tenants, of undoubted
abilities, who were tied to her by inclination as well
as duty. These began a reformation of all the abuses
committed by Avaro and Baconface, which discovered
such a scene of roguery to the world that one would
hardly think the most mercenary favourites could be
guilty of.
Avaro now began to be very uneasy, and to be
affrighted at his own conscience; he found nothing
would pacify the enraged tenants, and that his life
would be but a sufficient recompence for his crimes.
His money, which he relied on and which he lavished
away to bribe off his destruction, had not force
enough to protect him. He could not as it is reported
sit still in one place for two minutes, never slept at
all, eat little or nothing, talked very rambling and in-
consistent of merit, hardships, accounts, perquisites,
commissioners, bread, and bread-waggons, but was
never heard to mention any cheese.
He came and made a confession in his own house
to some people he never saw before in his life, and
which shows no little disorder in his brain, that what-
ever they might think of him he was as dutiful a
servant as any his mistress had. Haggite raved
almost as bad as he, and had got St. Anthony's fire
in her face; but it is a question, says Dr. Garth,
whether there was anything ominous in that, since
it is probable the distemper only changed its situa-
tion.
Meanwhile it was agreed by Baconface and others
that a consultation should be called at Avaro's house,
something decisive resolved on in order to prevent
their ruin; and accordingly Jacobo the messenger
was sent to inform the cabal of it.
Dismal and horrid was the night of that infernal
consultation! nothing heard but the melancholy
murmuring of winds and the croaking of toads and
ravens; everything seemed wild and desert, and
doubledarkness overspread the hemisphere: thunder
and lightning, storms and tempest and earthquakes,
seemed to presage something more than ordinary
and added to the confusion of that memorable night.
Nature sickened and groaned as it were under the
tortures of universal ruin. Not a servant in the house
but had the strangest dreams, and Haggite herself
had seen a stranger in the candle. The fire lan-
guished and burnt blue and the crickets sung con-
tinually about the oven.
|
How far the story is true
concerning the warming-pan and dishes, I cannot say,
but certain it is a noise was heard like that of rolling
peas from the top of the house to the bottom; and
the windows creaked and the doors rattled in a
manner not a little terrible. Several of their servants
made affidavit that Haggite lost a red petticoat, a
ruff, and a pair of green stockings that were her
mother's, but the night before, and a diamond-cross
once given her by a great man.
;
It was about midnight before this black society
got together, and no sooner were they seated when
Avaro opened to them in this manner: We have tried,
says he, my friends, all the artifices we could invent or
execute, but all in vain. Our mistress has discovered
plainly our intentions, and the tenants will be neither
flattered, nor frighted, nor bribed into our interest.
It remains, therefore-and what though we perish
in the attempt? we must perish otherwise-that once
for all we make a push at the very life of
when, lo! says the manuscript, an unusal noise in-
terrupted his discourse, and Jacobo cried out, The
devil, the devil at the door. Scarce had he time
to speak or they to listen, when the apparition of
mother Haggy entered; but who can describe the
astonishment they were then in? Haggite fainted
away in the elbow chair as she sat, and Avaro not-
withstanding his boasted courage slunk under the
table in an instant; Baconface screwed himself into
a thousand postures; and Clumzy trembled till his
very water trickled from him. Splitcause tumbled
over a joint-stool, and Mouse the ballad-maker
broke a brandy-bottle that had been Haggite's
companion for some years; but Dammyblood, Dam-
myblood only was the man that had the courage to
cry out, G-d d-mn your bl--d, what occasion for all
this bustle? Is it not the devil, and is he not our
old acquaintance? This revived them in some mea-
sure, but the ghastliness of the spectacle made still
some impression on them. There was an unac-
countable irregularity in her dress, a wanness in her
complexion, and a disproportion in her features.
Flames of fire issued from her nostrils, and a sul-
phurous smoke from her mouth, which, together
with the condition some of the company were
in, made a very noisome and offensive smell; and I
have been told, says a very grave alderman of St.
Alban's, some of them saw her cloven foot.
I come, says she at length (in a hollow voice
more terrible than the celebrated Stentor or the
brawny Caledonian), I come, O ye accomplices in
iniquity, to tell you of your crimes, to bid you desist
from these cabals, for they are fruitless, and prepare
for punishment. I have as long as I could assisted
you in your glorious execrable attempts, but time is
now no more, the time is coming when you must be
delivered up to justice. As to you, O son and daughter,
said she, turning to them, 'tis but a few revolving
moons ere you must both fall a sacrifice to your avarice
and ambition, as I have told you heretofore, but your
mistress will be too merciful, and though your ready
2 M 2
532
THE CHARACTER OF
$
:
money must be refunded your estate in land will
descend unto your heirs. But you, O Baconface,
you have merited nothing to save either your life or
your estate; be contented, therefore, with the loss of
both; and Clumzy, says she, you must share the same
fate your insolence to your lady and the beggars
you brought in upon the tenants will require it.
Dammyblood, continues she, turning towards him,
you must expect a considerable fine; but Splitcause
and Mouse may come off more easily. She said,
gave a shriek, and disappeared; and the cabal dis-
persed with the utmost consternation.
THE CHARACTER
OF RICHARD STEELE, Esq.;
WITH SOME REMARKS.
BY TOBY, ABEL'S KINSMAN; OR, ACCORDING TO
MR. CALAMY, A.F. & N.
IN A LETTER TO HIS GODFATHER.
The Fourth Edition.
Bella inter Geminos plusquam civilia Fratres.-EPIGR.
THIS satire was attributed to Swift. at its first appearance in 1713,
and was reprinted in the Gulliveriana, 1728, with the following
preface:-
"The reader is to understand that captain Gulliver's first at-
tachments in England were to the Whigs; that he wrote the
Contest of Athens and Rome,' and many other pieces, on
Whiggish principles; that his patron was a Whig; that the cap-
tain gave into his patron's ways of thinking; and the reader is
to know, lastly, that at the captain's first appearing in public
and in print at London, he conversed only with Whigs, parti-
cularly lord Wharton, Addison, and Steele.
"But when the late queen changed her successful and victo-
rious ministry she changed the whole captain; and the captain
changed his opinions, changed his conscience, changed his
company, and betook to O-d, O—h, B-k, P―e, A-t, M-y,
aud G-; changing his style at the same time, and writing
continually in opposition to the persons and principles which
he had espoused from his youth.
"While the captain flourished, in the height and heat of his
labours to favour the jacobite cause, in Examiners, Conducts,
Toby's Remarks, Ballads, and all kinds of writing, public and
private, sir Richard Steele was the chief protestant hero of the
press, who, by his Englishman, Guardian, Crisis, Dunkirk, and
other approved writings in favour of the house of Hanoyer,
stemmed the tide, in the judgment of all unprejudiced readers,
and turned the hearts of the people against the then managers
for the pretender.
them; I cannot, I must confess, but promise myself
a little merriment, and, in imitation of a laudable
custom of our countrymen at Hockley, shall endea-
vour, after Bruin has been sufficiently baited in
another manner, to give the company the diversion
of a wheelbarrow.
All that Mr. Steele contends for at present is to be
thought the politician of the company, and though
an infant and a pigmy in his profession, to deal with
statesmen of a gigantic stature and surpassing his
upholsterer in argument; and he has behaved him-
self with such mighty prowess in his first encounters
that it is suspected he writes by the direction of Mr.
Ridpath, and that his shield and his sword are the
gift of some famous necromancer, and equal in vir-
tue to Mambrino's helmet. I would desire you, sir,
to take notice I say it is suspected only he writes by
the assistance of Mr. Ridpath, since I would by no
means offer that gentleman an injury now he is
dead and gone, who perhaps, if he was alive, would
be unwilling to be concerned with Mr. Steele.
the jay borrowed a feather from the peacock, another
from the bullfinch, and another from the magpie, it
is no argument that Dick is made of borrowed
colours, that he borrowed his humour of Estcourt,
his criticism of Addison, his poetry of Pope, or his
politics of Ridpath; and that his qualifications as a
man of sense, like Mr. Thompson's as a member of
parliament, lie in thirteen parishes.
If
Two
It may be disputed perhaps whether the Irish or
Scotch rogue has passed the most editions, or who
has the best claim to preferment, since the same vein
of knavery is the subject of them both. Affinity of
sense is no argument that they both are concerned
in writing the same piece, or that the Englishman is
equivocally generated by the copulation of the
Scotch and Irish, and like a mule, inherits an equal
share of the virtues of each of its progenitors.
persons of different nations and the same principle
may sometimes jump in their ideas of men and
things, but it is a wrong inference to suppose that
none but a Scotchman would give the Flying Post
the character of honest, as if standing in the pillory
was no test of his integrity with an Irish evidence.
Wise men are always cautious of the character of
those who have trod the paths of honour and virtue
before them, who have been conspicuous in those
"This success of sir Richard Steele so incensed the party that preferments they are solicitous to ascend.
they took every measure to distress him; they turned him out
of his employment, and they expelled him the house of com-
mons.
His fortune was broke, and his person and life were
reckoned to be in danger; and it was under these prosperous
circumstances that the pious and humane captain sends Toby,
in his ridiculous way, to support and comfort him. That very
captain who was Steele's old friend and fellow-writer; that
captain, whom Steele loved, and never disobliged, unless it
could be by his writing in favour of our constitution against
the pretender.
"But I'll detain you no longer from the entertainment of
master Toby, alias Gulliver, alias Swift, alias Examiner, alias
dean of St. Patrick's, alias Drapier, alias Bickerstaff, alias
Kemarker, alias Journalist, alias Sonnetteer, alias Scriblerus."
Titulo res digna sepulchri.-Juv.
SIR, I have sent you the late performances of
Mr. Steele, who, in my opinion, has, after all the
false glosses that have been put upon him, drawn his
own picture to the life, and given us a better sketch
of his mind than ever we had of his short face. You
will excuse me, sir, if I interrupt you a little in mak-
ing my observations upon one who has so freely
made his observations upon his queen and govern-
ment: it will be no injury I am persuaded to the
Examiner to borrow him a little upon promise of
returning him safe; as children do their playthings
when their mirth is over, and they have done with
I have sent you the best information of the rea-
sons of the conduct of our upstart, and have endea-
voured to solve all the phenomena of his turning
politician; and if, in giving you the history of his
late proceedings, I should say something that may
occasion him to call me graceless rogue or rascal,
or give me any other appellation adapted to the
mouth of a political reformer, if he falls into passion
with any man of quality, instead of returning me an
answer, you must not say he is rude or angry or
giving ill language; you must approve of his be-
haviour and his management; it is the method
lately of political controversy and an admirable arti-
fice of evading an antagonist. A man of late years
is thought as much a conqueror when he runs out
of the field and escapes as if he kills his adversary
upon the spot.
Mr. Steele, sir, having lately had a Welsh estate
left him by his wife's mother, began to look upon
himself as a considerable person in land as well as
sense, as is natural for those who have been indigent
and necessitous all their lives. He was told by the
minor poets, his companions at Button's, that a man
of his sense must undoubtedly advance himself by
being in the senate, and that he knew the world, as
Dick himself insinuates in his Treatise upon De-
RICHARD STEELE, ESQ.
533
molition, as well as any man in England, and had
all the qualifications requisite for a minister of state.
There was no great occasion to press him to any-
thing of this nature: he embraced it with all the
eagerness imaginable, but offered at first a sort of
nolo episcopari, that it might go down the more
plausibly. He considered wisely that his wit and
credit began to run very low, that the chief of his
assistants had deserted him, that C. Lilly had lately
refused to lend him half-a-crown, Jacob [Tonson]
dunned him more than was consistent with good
manners, and if he got into the house he could not
be arrested. What seduced him more than all
these considerations was a pension from the party
double the income of the stamp-office at present,
and in hand, for speaking in the house; and he has
amassed together a multitude of set speeches, which
he designs to get extempore for that purpose. He
is at this time so elated I am told that he has al-
ready promised several places under him when he is
secretary or lord-treasurer. Mr. Button is an audi-
tor of the exchequer, and Mr. Bat. Pigeon, in the
room of sir Clement, master of the ceremonies.
has declared publicly he does not question over-
turning the ministry, and doing that before the first
sessions of parliament is over which my lords
Wharton and Somers have been foiled at for three
years together.
wrote by the direction of the ministry, and that her
majesty had no reason for deferring the demolition.
This would have been proper I say, for him to have
inquired, and when he had been ascertained of these
things, if he had given his opinion of the importance
of demolishing that place with modesty and submis-
sion as a private author, he ought not to have told
the queen that the representative body of the whole
nation immediately expected it, when he had no
commission from them. If he was insolent and un-
grateful to her majesty under the name of Mr. Iron-
side, he ought not to father his spurious brats or his
libels upon the nation or parliament; and however
unaccountable he may think himself, he may have
an opportunity to repent it.
But he remembers a certain person who wished
the necks of all mankind consolidated in one, that
he might the more commodiously demolish the whole
species at once, and endeavours, in imitation of
this great example, to cut off the constitution of
Great Britain at a blow.
A man of such a charity and public spirit is he-
Heroically illustrious: Our ancestors of forty-one
brought on the civil war by the same stratagem of
setting the king and parliament at variance.
I need not tell you, sir, how exulted he seemed at
Stockbridge, and after what manner he addressed
the bailiff and his brethren. There was nothing
there to perplex him but the payment of a 3007.
bond, which lessened the sum he carried down, and
which an odd dog of a creditor had intimation of
and took this opportunity to recover. But, alas!
alas! We may date the ruin of the man and the
loss of his intellects from this juncture; as soon as
he came to town the political cacoethes began to
break out upon him with greater violence because it
had been suppressed, and he who had lived so long
upon the lucubrations of others was resolved at last.
to do something. Mr. John Snow has since received
such marks of his favour and esteem that he has ap-
pealed to him in the dispute betwixt himself and his
prince whether it was expedient to demolish Dun-
kirk or not, and has chosen himself and the bailiff
of a petty corporation to be directors of her majesty.
To convince his electors he can write, he has dedi-
cated a book to their bailiff, and for their civility in
attempting to choose him has inflicted the punish-
ment of reading it upon the corporation.
There is no occasion at this time to animadvert
on the argument of his letter, so well refuted by the
demolition itself; and as the case stood then the
whole dispute was frivolous and of no importance.
The person of monsieur Tugghe was obscure if not
feigned; his memorial inconsiderable, if not written
by Mr. Steele; her majesty steadfast in her resolu-
tion to demolish the town and harbour, and her
ministry declaring it: but all this was not enough
for our champion's satisfaction: he had promised to
oblige Mr. Snow with some diversion at his own ex-
pense, and like the renowned [knight of] La Mancha
singles out a windmill to encounter. Dreadful and
bloody was the battle on both sides, and that inso-
lent burgher of a foreign corporation deserved to be
chastised for affronting her majesty, when none but
a senator or a subject who is not accountable to his
queen ought to be allowed that liberty.
I know not, I must confess, by what means he
will evade the charge of insolence and ingratitude;
he ought undoubtedly to have been very certain
that her majesty was resolved never to demolish
Dunkirk, that the sieur Tugghe's memorial was
|
You will find, sir, in the packet I have sent you,
that the Examiner has answered all his reasons, if
they can be called so, beyond the possibility of a
reply; but our new politician, who knows the
world and himself better than to take an answer,
has recourse to another stratagem; and instead of
replying one word to the Examiner, without any
sense of handsome language or good manners falls
a throwing dirt and abusing the unblemished
character of a minister of state, by whose interest
alone he has been continued three years in the stamp-
office.
This, sir, is that gentleman of merit! that hero of
good sense! that man of charity and public spirit!
that censor of Great Britain! that venerable Nestor!
O, ye literati of Button's coffeehouse! Ye ladies
of St. James's! Ye milliners of the Exchange! Ye
upholsterers of the city! Ye stock-jobbers of Jona-
than's! Ye neighbours of sir Roger, and ye family
of the Lizards!-Behold the patron of learning! the
encourager of arts and sciences! the dispenser of
morality and philosophy! the demolisher of tuckers
and hooped petticoats! the terror of politicians! and
the debellator of news-writers! dwindled on a sud-
den into an author below the character of Dunton
[a bookseller]! below the politics of Ridpath! Un-
gratefully insulting his queen, and committing
petty-larceny upon the reputation of a great man!
See the man who talked like an oracle, who had all
the gay, the delicate, the humorous, at his command,
calling names and daubing his style with the lan-
guage of a scavenger!
O tempora! O mores! More phlebotomy and fresh
straw-
For the man in the moon drinks claret,
Eats powder'd beef, turnip, and carrot.
Is this that Richard Steele, esq., who published
the Tatlers and Spectators, who was believed to be
one of the most accomplished gentlemen in the
world? It is impossible! 'Tis some impostor, some
enemy to that gentleman, some savage miscreant
who had his birth and education in a place more
barbarous than Carrickfergus.
If Mr. Steele, sir, was ever a man of parts he is
strangely degenerated, and has undergone a greater
alteration on a sudden than any in Ovid's Metamor-
phoses, though the following account in my opinion
may be as properly applied to Apollo and Mr. Iron-
side as to the person spoken of by that author, which
534
THE CHARACTER OF
for the benefit of the city politicians I shall leave in
the original :-
Nec Delius aures
Humanam stolidas patitur retinere figuram,
Sed trahit in spatium; villisque albentibus implet;
Induiturque aures lentè gradientis Aselli.-Ovid.
Our author has given his reputation such a stab
that I can scarely think but he is in some measure
guilty of self-murder, and as dead as Dr. Partridge
or any other person he killed formerly. If the co-
roner's inquest was to examine him the Welsh estate
would in all probability be in danger, was it not for
the salvo of non compos. It is a miserable consider-
ation when a man exposes his morals and integrity
to sale, when he lets his wit by the day and jades
and hackneys down his genius to supply his luxury.
I should have thought Mr. Steele might have had the
example of his friend [Dr. Garth] before his eyes,
who had the reputation of being author of the Dis-
pensary, till by two or three unlucky afterclaps he
proved himself incapable of writing it.
But we ought to have another opinion of our ad-
viser of princes if we reflect on what he tells us in
his Importance, that an honest, though a mean man,
gives her majesty to understand that the British na-
tion expects the immediate demolition of Dunkirk:
"Expects it," says he, "from the duty they owe
their queen, from their care of the preservation of
her sacred life, her crown, and dignity, from the ho-
nour and integrity of her councils, from the glorious
advantages of her arms, from the faith and sincerity
of her treaties, from the veneration and regard due
to her from his most christian majesty, and from the
duty they owe themselves and their posterity; and
is this insolence and ingratitude?" If we had lei-
sure to examine this construction it would open to
us a field of incongruity; but I shall rather give you
the true reasons of the expectations of himself and
his party, abstracted from the false meanings he has
put upon them. The party then expects it,-from
a particular care of the Dutch trade and from an ap-
prehension that England should be too powerful;
from the duty they owe the Dutch and their poste-
rity; from an endeavour to blacken and asperse the
peace; from a jealousy that the present ministry are
in the interest of the church; from an uneasiness
they are under because of her majesty's administra-
tion, and from a desire of seeing her successor upon
the throne; and is this insolence and ingratitude?
You may imagine, sir, perhaps I wrong the demo-
lisher in my interpretation of this passage, especially
if we consider him as one who professes that the
highest pleasure of a human soul consists in charity.
As to laying aside, says he, those common views by
which the mistaken world are actuated, a man of
liberal education can easily surmount those low con-
siderations; and when he considers himself from the
moment he was born into this world as an immortal
though a changeable being, he will form his inte-
rests and prospects accordingly, and not make pro-
vision for eternity with perishable things. When a
man has planted such a sentiment as this for the rule
of his conduct the pursuits of avarice and ambition
will be as contemptible as the sports of children;
and there can be no honours, no riches, no plea-
sures, which can possibly come in competition with
the satisfactions of an enlarged and public spirit.
Was Mr. Steele the person he here would repre-
sent himself I would allow the sense he puts upon
his own words. This is such a gift of virtue and
philosophy which a man of liberal education can
hardly ever arrive to, how easily soever he may sur-
mount those low considerations, and is never per-
haps to be found in any person, much less in one
who bestows it upon himself. I wish indeed I could
find any one who would give him this character; I
have hunted everywhere, I have conversed with his
companions and creditors, with his friends and ene-
mies, and I must confess I never yet met the man
who had so good an opinion of his veracity as to
believe him in trifles and matters of the least import-
ance.
You may blame me perhaps for reminding our
author of his debts; and I should justly think my-
self blamable were they not the effects of his luxury,
his vanity, and ambition, and not of accident or
misfortune. I could easily excuse and pity a man
for being poor, but not when he labours by his vices
to undo himself; not when he endeavours to make
a figure or become a senator at the expense of his
creditors. Some civilians look upon such chemists
who are searchers only of the philosopher's stone as
unfit to be tolerated in any community, because they
reduce not only themselves and families to beggary
but several other people; and certainly spendthrifts
and projectors of any sort are equally pernicious,
and are so far from having any spice of public spirit,
so much boasted of by some, that they are useless
members to the government they live under and a
nuisance to the public. Where is the public spirit
of such a man who will be bribed to recommend a
barber, a buffoon, or a perfumer to the world, to
carry on intrigues which a man of honour would
blush to hear of, and to pimp in print? Where is
his charity and benevolence to mankind who is
squandering away a handsome competency among
the illegitimate, who is running into everybody's
debt and paying nobody? Where is his disinterest,
who votes for more than double an equivalent of the
stamp-office? Are the pursuits of avarice and am-
bition contemptible to such an one? And is this
laying aside the common views by which the mis-
taken world are actuated?
Pardon me, sir, however merry I have been I can
contain no longer public spirit, charity, benevo-
lence to mankind, and disinterest, are virtues known
to our mushroom patriot by name only, and it raises
the contempt and indignation of every honest man
to hear a person of the vilest principles, and the most
mercenary hireling who ever prostituted his pen in
the defence of any faction, giving himself such an air
of sanctity and virtue. A man of such a public and
enlarged spirit is as well qualified as any Judas of
them all to betray his friend, his benefactress, or his
sovereign, if you bait with a bribe considerable
enough to reach his conscience; and he may very
well be careless what ideas are affixed to the letters
of his name when it is impossible for the worst to
sully him.
I have dwelt the longer, sir, upon Mr. Steele's
character because it seems to be the main argument
at present; Dunkirk is now demolishing, and the
importance of no consideration; and I beg leave only
to make a remark or two upon the Englishman
which may serve to confirm what I have already
hinted.
He assumes at first the name of an Englishman in
a burlesque manner, as if the character and charge
of a man of experience and a patriot was matter of
comedy and ridicule. It may indeed, sir, as he
manages it, but methinks every Englishman ought
to have understood himself and his country better
than to abuse the only man who, if any one deserves
that title, has proved himself more an Englishman
than any minister who has gone before him. We
all of us, sir, are sensible of the happy influence of
his counsel, who has rescued our constitution out of
such hands as engrossed the monarchy to themselves
RICHARD STEELE, ESQ.
535
and plundered its revenue; as exposed the wealth
of our nation to the depredations of foreigners and
the scorn and derision of its confederates.
But these incongruities are pardonable if we con-
sider him as a Frenchman, a Dutchman lately natu-
ralized, or an acquaintance of Mr. Steele's, and he
may be allowed to publish a letter from himself to a
certain peer, complaining of his footman and calling
him such names he learned formerly in footmen's
company. Neither is it at all surprising he should
fancy it incompatible with the character of a states-
man to laugh, or whisper, or writhe his head, or that
my lord's footman appeared the worst man that ever
had the education of a gentleman. I refer you, sir,
to the Englishman at large, and beseech you to read
with attention and not throw it aside before you
have read it over.
Mr. Steele in short has neither a head nor a style for
politics; there is no one political Englishman but con-
tains either some notorious blunder in his notions
or his language, and he seems himself so well aware
of this that he is already run from his purpose.
I
should be glad to find any signs of conversion in
him, and I could wish he would follow the example
of Midas, who after the transformation of his ears
was ashamed, and endeavoured to cover his igno-
miny from the world.
If I might advise him I should think it his best
way to retire into Wales and live upon his estate,
for by these means he may keep his circumstances
within bounds; and when his head is cool and
purged of his politics he may now and then revisit
and divert the town by publishing the works of his
friends, and retrieve the little reputation he had
gained by them. Whatever hopes the party may
have given him, or whatever promises they have
made, he may depend upon it they will never an-
swer: he will prove their cully and their tool and
ruined in the end, and if he persists in his purpose
I dare engage, if I can be sure of anything in futu-
rity, that I shall live to see him in jail or under the
hands of Longbottom in Bedlam, and his works ex-
posed in that neighbourhood for years together to
the inclemency of the seasons. I know not I must
confess whether his misfortunes will deserve our
pity. Such a fate will be the genuine product of his
indiscretion and ill principles, and his stupidity a
curse upon his ingratitude.
Neither Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baldwin, or any other
English publisher, ever obtained so great a charac-
ter as the person we have been speaking of, or re-
ceived more encouragement from people of condition,
and it would have been as much a crime but a little
time since to have spoken against him as now it is
to speak for him. Some historians have observed
that Alexander was as fortunate in his death as in
any action of his life; he died soon after he had
subdued the world, nor lived to hazard the glory he
had gained in any rebellion that might have been
formed against him. How happy had it been for
our politician had he died in such a manner! had
he followed his friend sir Roger soon after he pub-
lished his death, and left no Guardians, no English-
men behind him as the monuments of his ignorance
and indiscretion!
I have subjoined, sir, a few paragraphs by way of
postscript from those papers, that you may make a
judgment of his style: I will engage there is scarce
any of his compositions out of which I cannot pick
some sentences of false grammar or inconsistence.
How honourable soever or praiseworthy the ancients
thought it to die for their country, I never knew a
man was obliged to talk nonsense in defence of it.
Abusive language and fustian are as unfair in con-
troversy as poisoned arrows or chewed bullets in a
battle, and he deserves indeed to be thought an Eng-
lishman who is ignorant of the English language!
Indolence, attitude, public spirit, liberal education,
and benevolence, with a thousand other expressions,
are cant and nonsense when applied too often and
upon all occasions; and it is supposed a certain
scribbler can no more write without these words
than a certain bishop can preach when his hands are
tied behind him.
I see, sir, in the advertisements that Mr. Steele
is about to publish by subscription a treatise justi-
fying the revolution and in favour of the Hanover
succession. I could wish his subscribers would weigh
the consequence of such an undertaking, or the
government suppress it. I know no greater injury
that can be done to that illustrious house than by
employing such a pen in their service; and it may
be accounted the peculiar happiness of her majesty
and the present ministry that Mr. Steele has been
hired to write against them. A man who is so good
a lawyer, and knows the constitution of Great Bri-
tain so very well, as to tell us that as a member and in
the house he is accountable to no man, but the
greatest man in England is accountable to him,
cannot choose but descant very prettily upon such
subjects as require all the nicety of the common and
civil law.
I beg your pardon, sir, for detaining you so long;
the world perhaps will expect that after I have said
so much of my antagonist I should say something
of myself; and as I am neither ashamed of my name
or my face I shall oblige them with my picture as
my
brother has done before me. I have the honour,
you know, to be a member with him of the same
society of Short Faces, and we differ very little in
the lineaments of our visage notwithstanding we
disagree in our opinions. My pen, I thank God, has
never yet been employed in the defence of faction
or to insult my queen, and whenever it is I desire
to have as ill a character as the author of the Im-
portance. As to
As to my abilities, however mean, I dare
engage to write upon any subject with my celebrated
brother upon this condition, that we may be turned
into a room by ourselves, with pen, ink, and paper,
without books or the assistance of Mr. Ridpath on
the one side, or my uncle Abel on the other.
I am, sir, &c.,
Will's Coffeehouse, Oct. 27th.
POSTSCRIPT.
TOBY.
IMPORTANCE, page 21.-"Monsieur Tugghe sup-
poses us to a most notorious degree ignorant of
common geography when he asserts that Dunkirk
is the only port from Ostend westward by which
commodities can be brought into the provinces of
the Austrian Low Countries and Germany. There
runs from Calais a navigable river to Graveling; the
river of Graveling runs to St. Omer; from the east
side of this river runs two canals, one through Bour-
bourg to Dunkirk, the other directly to Winoxberg.
There is a canal," &c.
REMARK. These observations, as Mr. Steele in-
sinuates, are something above common geography,
communicated if the truth was known by the very
man who has discovered the longitude, and are a
confirmation of the English adage that the farthest
way about is the nearest way home. My good friend
Mr. Tonson was arguing in this manner the other
day at his shop, when I told him I could not get
through Temple-bar into Fleet-street because the
gate was shut; it would be well, says he, if that way
536
POSTSCRIPT TO THE CHARACTER OF STEELE.
was always stopped; there is a shorter cut for all
passengers, for there runs from the Strand a street
called Catherine-street, and at the end of that street
is another which runs to Drury-lane, and at the
end of Drury-lane are two ways, one by St. Giles's
church on the left and the other down Holborn on the
right; a little below the Black Swan in Holborn you
turn down Fetter-lane, which leads you directly
into Fleet-street.
IMPORTANCE, page 32.-" When such was our
case and such is our case, men lately preferred and
grown too delicate would have men of liberal edu-
cation, that know the world as well as themselves,
afraid, for fear of offending them in their new clothes,
to speak when they think their queen and country
is ill treated."
REMARK. This sentence is scarcely intelligible
without inquiring what a man of liberal education
is. Now a man of liberal education, according to
Mr. Steele's acceptation of that word, is one of mean
parentage, who was bred at school till he could al-
most construe Latin, and has since improved him-
self in the knowledge of the world by riding in the
guards, by conversing with porters, carmen, foot-sol-
diers, players, bullies, bawds, pimps, and whores of all
sorts and sizes; who has been arrested for the main-
tenance of his bastards, and afterwards printed a
proposal that the public should take care of them.
One who has no invention, no judgment, no style,
no politics, no gratitude, and no honesty. In short,
a man of liberal education is one who, after he
knows he is all this, has the impudence to say that
as to his morals, if there was anything very flagrant,
he has friends enough in town who would oblige the
world with them. It is observable, notwithstanding
Dr. Walker so often flogged our author when he
was at school for false grammar, he continues to
affront Lilly almost in every word, viz. "men of
liberal education that knows"-" his queen and
country is ill treated-;" "if there is anything
very flagrant, oblige the world with them." This is
also a characteristic of a man of liberal education!
ENGLISHMAN, No. III." The king of England
is no other than a very good man vested with all the
opportunities, and tied down by the most solemn
oath to be such, in the most eminent manner that
all the power that ought to attend human nature can
enable him.”
REMARK.-Though the interpretation of this pa-
ragraph may be plain to the present age, yet lest
Mr. Steele, who I am sure designs his works shall
be delivered down to posterity, should hereafter be
misunderstood, it may not be unnecessary to give
them to understand that this phraseology is adapted
to the peculiar way of thinking of the finest wits
amongst us, and may sometimes be understood in
quite a different acceptation from what the words
import, and is sometimes of no signification at all,
but intended as a bite upon the reader. I have no
leisure at present to describe what a sort of crea-
ture a man is who is "vested with opportunities,"
or the essence of that "power which ought to attend
human nature in the most eminent manner." It is
sufficient that our author has a meaning in these
words, but affects a mysterious way of speaking like
the oracles of old, in order to preserve the majesty
of his ideas from the profanation of the vulgar; and
it is a thousand pities that such an admirable talent
at riddles and enigmas should be thrown away to
no purpose, which might prove of most prodigious
emolument, could Mr. Steele reconcile himself to
Dr. Partridge and obtain the liberty of publishing
them as an appendix to his almanac.
ENGLISHMAN, No. V.-" The earth we see is
visited all around; in some parts of the world men
are seized with a contagion of their bodies, in others
with the infatuation of their minds. This is a plain
observation, and grows into the common sense of
mankind; and this seasonable querist will find to
his confusion that this glorious spot of liberty will
no more be imposed upon by general suggestions
and insinuations against its true welfare and interest.
It is come to that, that people must prove what they
say if they would be believed."
tions!
REMARK.-How happy is Mr. Steele in his transi-
Connection has been believed a necessary
ingredient of good writing; but he has shown a
new way, and how to arrive to be an author without
coherence. In the beginning of the passages before
us he gives us a sketch of the terrible, then he de-
scends to consider the laws of vegetation, and shows
how a plain observation "grows into the common
sense of mankind;" and from both these consider-
ations together very fairly concludes that a "glo-
rious spot of liberty" can never be imposed upon by
suggestions against its true interest, and after this
clenches the sense of the whole by telling us of an
hardship put upon the writers of this age: “It is
come to that," says he, "that people must prove
what they say if they would be believed." These
Mr. Steele may call new conceptions very properly;
every rustic can draw consequences, and make what
the logicians call a natural syllogism; but none but
so refined a reasoner and a critic can hit the unin-
telligible. Had the Examiner talked in this manner
he might have been justly said to go on in a serene
exuberance of something neither good nor bad.
"A man," says Mr. Steele of that author, may go
on in writing such stuff as this to his life's end,
without ever troubling himself for any new concep-
tion, or putting the imagination or judgment to the
least labour. There will be no danger of his want-
ing store of absurdities, and I allow he can dress
them up in tolerable language and with a seeming
coherence."
ENGLISHMAN, No. V." And all, as one man,
will join in a common indignation against all who
would perplex our obedience."
REMARK.-Whatever contradiction there is, as
some suppose, in all joining against all, our author
has good authority for what he says, and consider-
ing he means well, I think myself obliged to defend
him in this particular. How all "joining in a com-
mon indignation" will be construed I cannot well
determine; but certainly it
but certainly it may be proved, in spite
of Euclid or sir Isaac, that everything consists of
two alls, that these alls are capable of being divided
and subdivided into as many alls as you please, and
so in infinitum. The following lines may serve for
an illustration of this matter:-
Three children sliding on the ice
Upon a summer's day,
As it fell out they all fell in,
The rest-they ran away.
Though this polite author does not directly say
there are two alls, yet he implies as much; for I
would ask any reasonable man what can be under-
stood by the rest they ran away, but the other all
we have been speaking of? I have considered Mr.
Steele in this view, that the world should not think
I have so much malice against him but that I can
exhibit the beauties as well as quarrel with the
faults of his compositions; and I hope for the future,
for his own sake and to avoid an uncorrect way of
writing, he will not value himself upon his hasty
productions because he can write a paper in a pas
ABSTRACT OF THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
537
sion and rejoin upon the Examiner in less than a
day's time; but that the admonition of his friend
sir Marmaduke to his coachman will be his constant
rule-John, remember I am never in haste.
ADVERTISEMENT. In a letter I have received
from Mr. Longbottom, that gentleman informs me
he is making a curious collection of all the rarities
both of matter and language throughout the works
of the ingenious captain Steele, with a true copy of
Mr. Steele's letter to the collar-maker's wife of
Stockbridge and her answers, the originals being
both under his custody, and to be perused at his
shop near Charing-cross. He has already he tells
me extracted several words contributing to a smooth
style, flowers of rhetoric, smart sentences, and
knock-down arguments. In the latter end of his
letter he makes some observations upon what he
calls knock-down arguments, and gives a specimen
how the repetition of divers words may be looked
upon as a full answer to all the arguments contained
in them; and this, that ingenious anti-demolisher
of the countenance terms "perstringing the contro-
versy," or "spitting his adversary's words into his
mouth." His instances are as follow:-
"After having with the greatest fluency, gravity,
and earnestness imaginable, spoken unintelligibly
against me, uttering the words Ghent, Bruges,
Transito, Insulting; he at last—”
So again," He runs on with my name among the
words whig, politician, cross purposes, book slavery,
shamming and bantering."
cations at all; and for my own part, when I looked
round on all the princes of Europe, I could think of
none who might deserve that distinction from me
beside the king your master (for I say nothing of his
present Britannic majesty, to whose person and cha-
racter I am an utter stranger and likely to continue
so); neither can I be suspected of flattery on this
point, since it was some years after that I had the
honour of an invitation to his court before you were
employed as his minister in England, which I heartily
repent that I did not accept; whereby, as you can
be my witness, I might have avoided some years'
uneasiness and vexation during the last four years of
our late excellent queen, as well as a long melancholy
prospect since, in a most obscure disagreeable country
and among a most profligate and abandoned people.
I was diverted from pursuing this history partly by
the extreme difficulty, but chiefly by the indignation
I-conceived at the proceedings of a faction which
then prevailed; and the papers lay neglected in my
cabinet until you saw me in England; when you
know how far I was engaged in thoughts and busi-
ness of another kind. Upon her majesty's lamented
death I returned to my station in this kingdom, since
which time there is not a northern curate among
you who has lived more obscure than myself, or a
greater stranger to the commonest transactions of the
world. It is but very lately that I found the follow-
ing papers, which I had almost forgotten. I pub-
lish them now for two reasons: first, for an en-
couragement to those who have more youth and
leisure and good temper than I toward pursuing
the work as far as it was intended by me, or as much
further as they please; the second reason is, to have
an opportunity of declaring the profound respect I
As this work may be of vast improvement to the
English language, Mr. Longbottom assures me he
designs to print it upon the same paper and charac-
ter with Mr. Steele's Crisis, and that subscriptions
will be shortly taken in at Mr. Buckley's [the pub-have for the memory of your royal master, and the
lisher].
ABSTRACT OF THE
HISTORY OF ENGLAND,
FROM THE INVASION OF IT BY JULIUS CÆSAR
TO THE REIGN OF HENRY THE SECOND.
With an account of the
COURT AND EMPIRE OF JAPAN.
TO THE COUNT DE GYLLENBORG.ª
Dublin, Nov. 2, 1719.
SIR,-It is now about sixteen years since I first en-
tertained the design of writing a history of England,
from the beginning of William Rufus to the end of
queen Elizabeth; such a history, I mean, as appears
to be most wanted by foreigners and gentlemen of
our own country; not a voluminous work, nor pro-
perly an abridgment, but an exact relation of the
most important affairs and events without any regard
to the rest. My intention was to inscribe it to the kingb
your late master, for whose great virtues I had ever the
highest veneration as I shall continue to bear to his
memory. I confess it is with some disdain that I
observe great authors descending to write any dedi-
a He married the widow of Elias Derritt, esq., deputy of the
great wardrobe, niece to John Allen, esq., of Gretton, in North-
amptonshire. Her daughter, miss Derritt, was afterwards created
countess Gyllenborg, and married baron Sparre.
b Charles XII. king of Sweden, who was unfortunately killed
by a cannon-ball at the siege of Fredericshall, Dec. 11, 1718.
Immediately after his death, baron Gotz, his prime minister,
was arrested, tried, and executed at Stockholm, being charged
by the senate with all the oppressive measures of the late reign.
Having been deeply engaged in the Swedish conspiracy against
George I. in the year 1716, baron Gotz, at the desire of that
prince, had been arrested at the Hague, and at the same time
count Gyllenborg was seized and sent out of England.
sincere regard and friendship I bear to yourself; for
I must bring to your mind how proud I was to dis-
tinguish you among all the foreign ministers with
whom I had the honour to be acquainted. I am a
witness of the zeal you showed, not only for the
honour and interest of your master but for the ad-
vantage of the protestant religion in Germany, and
how knowingly and feelingly you often spoke to me
on that subject. We all loved you, as possessed of
every quality that could adorn an English gentle-
man, and esteemed you as a faithful subject to your
prince and an able negotiator; neither shall any re-
verse of fortune have power to lessen you either in
my friendship or esteem; and I must take leave to
assure you further that my affection toward persons
has not been at all diminished by the frown of power
upon them.
Those whom you and I once thought
great and good men continue still so in my eyes and
my heart, only with a
Cætera desiderantur.
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
FROM THE INVASION BY JULIUS CAESAR.
TO WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.
THE most ancient account we have of Britain is,
that the island was full of inhabitants, divided into
several petty kingdoms, as most nations of the
world appear to have been at first. The bodies of
the Britons were painted with a sky-coloured blue,
either as an ornament or else for terror to their
enemies. In their religion they were heathens, as
all the world was before Christ except the Jews.
Their priests were called druids: these lived in
hollow trees, and committed not their mysteries to
writing but delivered them down by tradition,
whereby they were in time wholly lost.
a The author was then in his fifty-second year.
538
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
The Britons had wives in common, so many to a | titled "king of all Albion" (an old name of this
particular tribe or society; and the children were in
common to that society.
About fifty years before Christ, Julius Cæsar, first
Roman emperor, having conquered Gaul or France,
invaded Britain rather to increase his glory than
conquests; for having overcome them in one or two
battles he returned.
The next invasion of Britain by the Romans (then
masters of most of the known world) was in the
reign of the emperor Claudius; but
but it was not
wholly subdued till that of Nero. It was governed
by lieutenants or deputies sent from Rome, as Ire-
land is now by deputies from England, and con-
tinued thus under the Romans for about 460 years;
till that empire being invaded by the Goths and
Vandals, the Romans were forced not only to recall
their own armies but also to draw from hence the
bravest of the Britons, for their assistance against
those barbarians.
The Roman conquests in this island reached no
farther northward than to that part of Scotland
where Stirling and Glasgow are seated. The re-
gion beyond was held not worth the conquering :
it was inhabited by a barbarous people called Cale-
donians and Picts, who being a rough fierce nation
daily infested the British borders. Therefore the
emperor Severus built a wall from Stirling to Glas-
gow to prevent the invasions of the Picts: it is com-
monly called the Picts' Wall.
These Picts and Caledonians or Scots, encouraged
oy the departure of the Romans, do now cruelly
infest and invade the Britons by sea and land; the
A. D. 455.
Britons choose Vortigern for their king,
who was forced to invite the Saxons (a
fierce northern people) to assist him against those
barbarians. The Saxons come over and beat the
Picts in several battles; but at last pick quarrels
with the Britons themselves, and after a long war
drive them into the mountains of Wales and Corn-
wall, and establish themselves in seven kingdoms in
Britain, now called England. The seven kingdoms
are usually styled the Saxon Heptarchy.
460. About this time lived king Arthur (if the
whole story be not a fable), who was so famous
for beating the Saxons in several battles.
The Britons received christianity very early, and
as is reported from some of the disciples themselves;
so that when the Romans left Britain the Britons
were generally christians. But the Saxons were
heathens till pope Gregory the Great sent over
hither Austin the monk, by whom Ethelbert
600.
king of the South Saxons, and his subjects,
were converted to christianity, and the whole island
soon followed the example.
After many various revolutions in this island
among the kingdoms of the Saxons, Egbert, descend-
ed from the West-Saxon kings, became sole
monarch of England.
800.
The language in Britain was British (now called
Welsh) or Latin; but with the Saxons English came
in, although extremely different from what it is
now. The present names of towns, shires, &c.,
were given by them; and the whole kingdom was
called England, from the Angles, who were a branch
of the Saxons.
As soon as the Saxons were settled the Danes be-
gan to trouble and invade them, as they (the Saxons)
had before done the Britons.
These Danes came out of Germany, Denmark,
and Norway; a rough, warlike people, little different
from the Saxons, to whom they were nigh neighbours.
After many invasions from the Danes, Edgar king
of England sets forth the first navy. He was on-
island), and was the first absolute monarch. He
made peace with the Danes and allowed them to live
in his dominions mixed with the English.
In this prince's time there were five kings in
Wales who all did him homage for their country.
These Danes began first to make their invasions
here about the year 800; which they after renewed
at several times and under several leaders, and were
as often repulsed. They used to come with vast
numbers of ships, burn and ravage before them, as
the cities of London, Winchester, &c. Encouraged
by success and prey, they often wintered in England,
fortifying themselves in the northern parts, from
whence they cruelly infested the Saxon kings. In
process of time they mixed with the English (as
was said before), and lived under the Saxon govern-
ment: but Ethelred, then king of England,
•978.
growing weary of the Danish insolence, a
conspiracy is formed, and the Danes massacred in
one day all over England.
Four years after, Sweyn king of Denmark, to
revenge the death of his subjects, invades England;
and after battles fought and much cruelty exercised,
he subdues the whole kingdom, forcing Ethelred to
fly into Normandy.
Sweyn dying, his son Canutus succeeds in the
kingdom; but Ethelred returning with an army,
Canutus is forced to withdraw to Denmark for suc-
cour.
Ethelred dies, and his son Edmund Ironside suc-
ceeds; but Canutus returning with fresh forces
from Denmark, after several battles the kingdom is
parted between them both. Edmund dying, his sons
are sent beyond sea by Canutus, who now is sole
king of England.
Hardicanute, the last Danish king, dying without
issue, Edward son of Ethelred is chosen king. For
his great holiness he was surnamed the Confessor,
and sainted after his death. He was the first of our
princes that attempted to cure the king's evil by
touching. He first introduced what is now called
the common law. In his time began the mode and
humour among the English gentry of using the
French tongue and fashions, in compliance with the
king, who had been bred up in Normandy.
The Danish government in England lasted but
twenty-six years, under the three kings.
Edward the Confessor married the daughter of
earl Godwin, an English nobleman of great power,
but of Danish extraction; but wanting issue he ap-
pointed Edgar Atheling, grandson to his brother, to
succeed him, and Harold, son of earl Godwin, to be
governor of the young prince. But upon Edward's
death Harold neglected Edgar Atheling and
usurped the crown for himself.
Ed-
Edward, while he was in Normandy, met so good
reception that it was said he made a promise to that
duke, that in case he recovered his kingdom and
died without issue he would leave it to him.
ward dying, William duke of Normandy sends to
Harold to claim the crown; but Harold, now in
possession, resolves to keep it. Upon which duke
William, having prepared a mighty fleet and army,
invades England, lands at Hastings, and sets fire to
his fleet, to cut off all hope from his men of return-
ing. To Harold he sent his messenger, demanding
the kingdom and his subjection: but Harold re-
turned him this answer, "That unless he departed
his land he would make him sensible of his just
displeasure." So Harold advanced his forces into
Sussex, within seven miles of his enemy. The Nor-
man duke, to save the effusion of blood, sent these
offers to Harold: "either wholly to resign the king-
WILLIAM THE SECOND.
539
dom to him, or to try the quarrel with him in single
combat." To this Harold did not agree.
Then the battle joined. The Normans had gotten
the worst if it had not been for a stratagem they in-
vented, which got them the day. In this engage-
ment Harold was killed, and William duke of Nor-
mandy became king of England under the
1066.
name of William the Conqueror.
|
king's summons; Odo undertook to prevail with the
obstinacy of the inhabitants; but being admitted
into the town, was there detained either by a real
or seeming force; however, the king, provoked at
their stubbornness and fraud, soon compelled them
to yield, retook his prisoner, and forcing him for
ever to abjure England sent him into Normandy.
By these actions performed with such great
celerity and success, the preparations of duke
Robert were wholly disappointed; himself, by the
THE REIGN OF WILLIAM THE SECOND, necessity of his affairs, compelled to a treaty with
SURNAMED RUFUS.
Ar the time of the Conqueror's death his eldest son
Robert, upon some discontent with his father, being
absent in France, William, the second son, made
use of this juncture, and without attending his
father's funeral hastened to England; where, pur-
suant to the will of the deceased prince, the nobility,
although more inclined to favour Robert, were pre-
vailed with to admit him king; partly by his pro-
mises to abate the rigour of the late reign and
restore the laws and liberties which had been then
abolished, but chiefly by the credit and solicitations
of Lanfranc; for that prelate had formerly a share in
his education and always a great affection for his
person. At Winchester he took possession of his
father's treasure in obedience to whose command,
as well as to ingratiate himself with the people, he
distributed it among churches and religious houses,
and applied it to the redeeming of prisoners and
other acts of popularity.
In the mean time Robert returned to Normandy,
took possession of that duchy with great applause
and content of his people, and spited at the in-
dignity done him by his father, and the usurpation
of his brother in consequence thereof, prepared a
great fleet and army to invade England; nor did
there want any occasion to promote his interest, if
the slowness, the softness, and credulity of his na-
ture, could have suffered him to make a right im-
provement of it.
Odo bishop of Baieux, of whom frequent mention
is made in the preceding reign, a prelate of incurable
ambition, either on account of his age or character
being restored to his liberty and possessions in Eng-
land, grew into envy and discontent, upon seeing
Lanfranc preferred before him by the new king in
his favour and ministry. He therefore formed a
conspiracy with several nobles of Norman birth to
depose the king, and sent an invitation to Robert to
hasten over. Meantime the conspirators, in order
to distract the king's forces, seized on several parts
of England at once; Bristol, Norwich, Leicester,
Worcester, Shrewsbury, Bath, and Durham, were
secured by several noblemen: Odo himself seized
Rochester, reduced the coasts of Kent, and sent
messages to Robert to make all possible speed.
The king, alarmed at these many and sudden
defections, thought it the best course to begin his
defence by securing the good will of the people. He
redressed many grievances, eased them of certain
oppressive taxes and tributes, gave liberty to hunt in
his forest with other marks of indulgence, which,
however forced from him by the necessity of the
time, he had the skill or fortune so to order as they
neither lost their good grace nor effect; for imme-
diately after he raised great forces both by land and
sea, marched into Kent, where the chief body of his
enemies was in arms, recovered Tunbridge and
Pevensey, in the latter of which Odo himself was
taken prisoner and forced to accompany the king to
Rochester. This city refused to surrender at the
▪ Which was 60,0004. iu silver, boside gold, jowels, and plate.
his brother upon the terms of a small pension and a
mutual promise of succeeding to each other's
dominions on failure of issue, forced to resign his
pretensions, and return with a shattered fleet to
Normandy.
About this time died archbishop Lanfranc; by
whose death the king, loosed from that awe and
constraint he was under, soon began to discover
those irregularities of his nature which till then he
had suppressed and disguised, falling into those acts
of oppression and extortion that have made his name
and memory infamous. He kept the see of Canter-
bury four years vacant, and converted the revenues
to his own use, together with those of several other
bishoprics and abbeys, and disposed of all church
preferments to the highest bidder. Nor were his
exactions less upon the laity, from whom he con-
tinually extorted exorbitant fines for pretended
transgression of certain penal laws, and entertained
informers to observe men's actions and bring him
intelligence.
It is here worth observation that these corrupt
proceedings of the prince have, in the opinion of
several learned men, given rise to two customs,
which are a long time grown to have the force of
laws. For, first, the successors of this king con-
tinuing the custom of seizing on the accruing rents
in the vacancy of sees and abbeys, it grew in process
of time to be exacted as a right or acknowledgment
to the king as founder; whence the revenues of
vacant bishoprics belong at this day to the crown.
The second custom had an original not unlike.
Several persons, to avoid the persecutions of the
king's informers and other instruments of oppres-
sion, withdrew themselves and their effects to
foreign countries; upon which the king issued a
proclamation forbidding all men to leave the king-
dom without his licence; from whence, in the
judgment of the same authors, the writ ne exeat
regno had its beginning.
In this ex-
By these and the like arbitrary methods having
amassed great treasures, and finding all things quiet
at home, he raised a powerful army to invade hig
brother in Normandy; but upon what ground or
pretext the writers of that age are not very exact;
whether it were from a principle frequent among
unjust princes that old oppressions are best justified
by new, or whether, having a talent for sudden
enterprises and justly apprehending the resentment
of duke Robert, he thought it the wiser course to
prevent injuries than to revenge them.
pedition he took several cities and castles from his
brother, and would have proceeded further if Ro-
bert had not desired and obtained the assistance of
Philip king of France, who came with an army to
his relief. King William, not thinking it safe or
prudent to proceed further against his enemy, sup-
ported by so great an ally, yet loth to lose the fruits
of his time and valour, fell upon a known and old
expedient, which no prince ever practised oftener or
with greater success, and that was to buy off the
French king with a sum of money. This had its
effect; for that prince, not able to oppose such
540
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
powerful arms, immediately withdrew himself and
his forces, leaving the two brothers to concert the
measures of a peace.
This was treated and agreed with great advantages
on the side of king William; for he kept all the
towns he had taken, obliged his brother to banish
Edgar Atheling out of Normandy, and for a further
security brought over with him to England the duke
himself to attend him in his expedition against
Malcolm king of Scotland, who during his absence
had invaded the borders. The king, having raised
great forces both by sea and land, went in person to
repel the inroads of the Scots; but the enterprise
was without success; for the greatest part of his
fleet was destroyed by a tempest, and his army very
much diminished by sickness and famine, which
forced him to a peace of little honour; by which,
upon the condition of homage from that prince, the
king of England agreed to deliver him up those
twelve towns (or manors) in England which Malcolm
had held under William the Conqueror; together
with a pension of 12,000 marks.
At this time were sown the seeds of another quar-
rel between him and duke Robert, who, soliciting
the king to perform some covenants of the last
peace and meeting with a repulse, withdrew in
great discontent to Normandy.
King William in his return from Scotland fell
dangerously sick at Gloucester, where, moved by
the seasonable exhortations of his clergy or rather
by the fears of dying, he began to discover great
marks of repentance, with many promises of amend-
ment and retribution, particularly for his injuries to
the church. To give credit to which good reso-
lutions he immediately filled several vacant sees,
giving that of Canterbury to Anselm, a foreigner of
great fame for piety and learning. But as it is the
disposition of men who derive their vices from their
complexions that their passions usually beat strong
and weak with their pulses, so it fared with this
prince; who upon recovery of his health soon for-
got the vows he had made in his sickness, relapsing
with greater violence into the same irregularities of
injustice and oppression, whereof Anselm, the new
archbishop, felt the first effects. This prelate, soon
after his promotion, offered the king a sum of money
by way of present; but took care it should be so
small that none might interpret it to be a considera-
tion of his late preferment. The king rejected it
with scorn; and as he used but little ceremony in
such matters insisted in plain terms for more.
selm would not comply; and the king enraged
sought all occasions to make him uneasy; until at
length the poor archbishop, tired out with perpetual
usurpations (or at least what was then understood
to be such) upon his jurisdiction, privileges, and
possessions, desired the king's licence for a journey
to Rome, and upon a refusal went without it.
soon as he was withdrawn the king seized on all his
revenues, converting them to his own use, and the
archbishop continued in exile until the succeeding
reign.
An-
As
The particulars of this quarrel between the king
and archbishop are not, in my opinion, considerable
enough to deserve a place in this brief collection,
being of little use to posterity and of less entertain-
ment; neither should I have mentioned it at all but
for the occasion it gives me of making a general ob-
servation, which may afford some light into the
nature and disposition of those ages. Not only this
king's father and himself, but the princes for se-
veral successions of the fairest character, have been
severely taxed for violating the rights of the clergy,
and perhaps not altogether without reason.
It is
true this character has made the lighter impression
as proceeding altogether from the party injured, the
contemporary writers being generally churchmen;
and it must be confessed that the usurpations of the
church and court of Rome were in those ages risen
to such heights as to be altogether inconsistent either
with the legislature or administration of any inde-
pendent state; the inferior clergy, both secular and
regular, insisting upon such immunities as wholly
exempted them from the civil power; and the bishops
removing all controversies with the crown by appeal
to Rome; for they reduced the matter to this short
issue, that God was to be obeyed rather than men;
and consequently the bishop of Rome, who is Christ's
representative, rather than an earthly prince. Nei-
ther does it seem improbable that all Christendom
would have been in utter vassalage, both temporal
and spiritual, to the Roman see, if the Reformation
had not put a stop to those exorbitancies, and in a
good measure opened the eyes of those princes and
states who still adhere to the doctrines and disci-
pline of the church.
While the king continued at Gloucester, Malcolm
king of Scotland came to his court, with intentions
to settle and confirm the late peace between them.
It happened that a controversy arose about some
circumstances relating to the homage which Mal-
colm was to pay; in the managing whereof king
William discovered so much haughtiness and dis-
dain, both in words and gestures, that the Scottish
prince provoked by such unworthy treatment re-
turned home with indignation; but soon came back
at the head of a powerful army, and entering Nor-
thumberland with fire and sword laid all waste
before him. But as all enterprises have in the
progress of them a tincture of those passions by
which they were spirited at first, so this invasion,
begun upon private revenge, which is a blind un-
governable passion, was carried on with equal pre-
cipitation and proved to be ruinous in the event;
for Robert Mowbray earl of Northumberland, to
prevent the destruction of his own country where
he had great possessions, gathering what forces he
could suddenly raise, and without waiting any di-
rections from the king, marched against the Scots,
who were then set down before Alnwick-castle:
there by an ambush Malcolm and his eldest son
Edward were slain, and the army, discouraged by
the loss of their princes, entirely defeated. This
disaster was followed in a few days by the death of
queen Margaret, who not able to survive her mis-
fortunes died for grief. Neither did the miseries of
that kingdom end till, after two usurpations, the
surviving son of Malcolm, who had fled to England
for refuge, was restored to his crown by the assist-
ance of king William.
About this time the hidden sparks of animosity
between the two brothers, buried but not extin-
guished in the last peace, began to flame out into
new dissensions: duke Robert had often sent his
complaints to the king for breach of articles, but
without redress; which provoked him to expostulate
in a rougher manner, till at length he charged the
king in plain terms with injustice and perjury; but
no men are found to endure reproaches with less
temper than those who most deserve them: the
king, at the same time filled with indignation and
stung with guilt, invaded Normandy a second time,
resolving to reduce his brother to such terms as
might stop all further complaints. He had already
taken several strongholds by force either of arms or of
money, and intending entirely to subdue the duchy,
gave orders to have 20,000 men immediately raised
in England and sent over to him. The duke, to
WILLIAM THE SECOND.
541
this active prince, who, knowing that insurrections
are best queiled in their beginnings, marched with
incredible speed and surprised the rebels at New-
castle, took the castles of Tinmouth and Bamburgh,
where the obstinacy of the defendants provoked
him contrary to his nature to commit cruelties
upon their persons by cutting off their hands and
ears and other the like inhumanities. The earl
himself was taken prisoner as he endeavoured to
make his escape, but suffered no other punishment
than to be confined for the rest of his life [thirty
years].
defend himself against these formidable preparations | Conqueror, but all was prevented by the celerity of
had recourse again to his old ally the king of France,
who very readily advanced with an army to his
assistance, as an action wherein he could every way
find his own account; for besides the appearance of
glory and justice by protecting the injured, he
fought indeed his own battle by preserving his
neighbouring state in the hands of a peaceful prince
from so powerful and restless an enemy as the king
of England; and was largely paid for his trouble
into the bargain; for king William, either loth to
engage in a long and dangerous war, or hastened
back by intelligence of some troubles from Wales,
sent offers to his army, just ready to embark for
Normandy, that upon payment of 10s. a man they
might have leave to return to their own homes.
This bargain was generally accepted: the money
was paid to the king of France, who immediately
withdrew his troops; and king William, now mas-
ter of the conditions, forced his brother to a peace
upon much harder terms than before.
In this passage there are some circumstances
which may appear odd and unaccountable to those
who will not give due allowances for the difference
of times and manners; that an absent prince, en-
gaged in an unjust war with his own brother and
ill-beloved at home, should have so much power and
credit as by his commission to raise 20,000 men on
a sudden, only as a recruit to the army he had al-
ready with him; that he should have a fleet pre-
pared ready and large enough to transport so great
a number; that upon the very point of embarking
he should send them so disgraceful an offer; and
that so great a number of common soldiers should
be able and willing to pay such a sum of money
equal to at least twelve times as much in our times,
and that after being thus deluded and spoiled at
once they should peaceably disband and retire to
their several homes. But all this will be less diffi-
cult to comprehend when we reflect on the method
of raising and supporting armies, very different from
ours, which was then in use, and so continued for
many ages after. All men who had lands in capite
were bound to attend the king in his wars, with a
proportioned number of soldiers, who were their
tenants on easy rents in consideration of military
service. This was but the work of a few days, and
the troops consisted of such men as were able to
maintain their own charges either at home or abroad;
neither was there any reason to apprehend that sol-
diers would ever become instruments for introducing
slavery, who held so great a share in the property.
The king upon his return from Normandy made
an unsuccessful expedition against the Welsh, who
upon the advantages of his absence had, according
to their usual custom, made cruel inroads upon the
adjoining counties of Chester, Shrewsbury, and He-
reford. Upon the king's approach they fled into
their fastnesses among the mountains, where he
pursued them for some time with great rage and
vexation as well as the loss of great numbers of his
men to no purpose. From hence he was recalled
by a more formidable enemy nearer home; for Ro-
bert earl of Northumberland, overrating his late
services against the Scots as much perhaps and as
unjustly as they were undervalued by the king, re-
fused to come to his court, which in those days was
looked on as the first usual mark of discontent in a
nobleman, and was often charged by princes as a
formal accusation. The earl, having disobeyed the
king's summons and concerted matters with other
accomplices, broke out into open rebellion, with in-
tentions to depose king William and set up Stephen
earl of Albemarle, son of a sister to William the
|
About this time began the holy war for the re-
covering of Palestine; which having not been the
enterprise of any one prince or state, but that where-
in most in Christendom had a share, it cannot with
justice be silently passed over in the history of any
nation.
Pope Urban II., in a council at Clermont, made
a pathetic exhortation, showing with what danger
and indignity to Christendom the Turks and Sara-
cens had for some ages not only overrun all Asia
and Africa, where christianity had long flourished,
but had also made encroachments into Europe, where
they had entirely subdued Spain and some other
parts; that Jerusalem, the holy city, where our Sa-
viour did so many miracles and where his sepulchre
still remained, to the scandal of the christian name,
lay groaning under the tyranny of infidels; that the
swords which christian princes had drawn against
each other ought to be turned against the common
enemy of their name and religion; that this should
be reckoned an ample satisfaction for all their past
should
sins; that those who died in this expedition
immediately go to heaven, and the survivors would
be blessed with the sight of our Lord's sepulchre.
Moved by these arguments and the influence of
the person who delivered them, several nobles and
prelates immediately took upon them the cross; and
the council dissolving in this high fit of zeal, the
clergy upon their return home prevailed so far in
their several countries that in most parts of Europe
some great prince or lord became a votary for the
Holy Land; as Hugh the Great, brother to the king
of France; Godfrey duke of Lorrain; Reimond
count of Toulouse; Robert duke of Normandy,
and many others. Neither ought it to be forgotten
that most of these noble and generous princes, want-
ing money to maintain the forces they had raised,
pawned their dominions to those very prelates who
had first engaged them in this enterprise: doubtless
a notable mark of the force of oratory in the church-
men of those ages, who were able to inspire that de-
votion into others whereof they seemed so little
sensible themselves.
But a great share in the honour of promoting this
religious war is attributed to the zeal and industry
of a certain French priest, commonly called Peter
the Hermit, who, being at Jerusalem upon pilgrimage
some time before and entering often into private treaty
with the patriarch of that city, came back fully in-
structed in all the measures necessary for such a
war: to these was joined the artifice of certain
dreams and visions that might pass for divine admo-
nition; all which added to the piety of his exhorta-
tions gave him such credit with the pope and several
princes of Christendom that he became in his own
person the leader of a great army against the infidels,
and was very instrumental for engaging many others
in the same design.
What a spirit was thus raised in Christendom
among all sorts of men cannot better be conceived
than from the vast numbers of these warlike pilgrims,
542
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
who at the siege of Nice are said to have consisted
of 600,000 foot and 100,000 horse; and the success
at first was answerable to the greatness of their num-
bers, the valour of their leaders, and the universal
opinion of such a cause; for besides several famous
victories in the field, not to mention the towns of
less importance, they took Nice, Antioch, and at
last Jerusalem, where duke Godfrey was chosen.
king without competition. But zeal, with a mixture
of enthusiasm, as I take this to have been, is a com-
position only fit for sudden enterprises, like a great
ferment in the blood, giving double courage and
strength for the time, until it sink and settle by na-
ture into its old channel; for in a few years the
piety of these adventurers began to slacken and give
way to faction and envy, the natural corruptions of
all confederacies: however, to this spirit of devotion
there succeeded a spirit of honour which long con-
tinued the vein and humour of the times, and the
Holy Land became either a school wherein young
princes went to learn the art of war, or a scene
wherein they affected to show their valour and gain
reputation when they were weary of peace at home.
The christians held possession of Jerusalem above
eighty years, and continued their expeditions to the
Holy Land almost as many more, with various
events; and after they were entirely driven out of
Asia the popes have almost in every age endeavoured
in vain to promote new croisadoes, neither does this
spirit seem extinct among us even to this day; the
usual projects of sanguine men for uniting Christen-
dom against the Turk being without doubt a tra-
ditional way of talk derived to us from the same
fountain.
Robert, in order to furnish himself out for this war,
pawned his duchy to the king for 10,000 marks of
gold,ª which sum was levied with so many circum-
stances of rigour and exaction toward the church
and laity as very much increased the discontents of
both against the prince.
1099. I shall record one act of this king's which,
being chiefly personal, may pass rather for a part of
his character than a point of history.
blow was from fortune; but valour could make re-
prisals, as he should show if ever he regained his
liberty." This being told the king, he sent for the
count, let him understand that he had heard of his
menaces, then gave him a fine horse, bid him begone
immediately, and defied him to do his worst.
It would have been an injury to this prince's me-
mory to let pass an action by which he acquired
more honour than from any other in his life, and by
which it appeared that he was not without some
seeds of magnanimity had they been better culti-
vated or not overrun by the number or prevalency
of his vices.
I have met with nothing else in this king's reign
that deserved to be remembered; for as to an un-
successful expedition or two against Wales, either
by himself or his generals, they were very incon-
siderable both in action and event, nor attended
with any circumstances that might render a relation
of them of any use to posterity either for instruction
or example.
His death was violent and unexpected, the effect
of casualty, although this perhaps is the only misfor-
tune of life to which the person of a prince is gene-
rally less subject than that of other men. Being at
his beloved exercise of hunting in the New Forest
in Hampshire, a large stag crossed the way before
him; the king hot on his game cried out in haste to
Walter Tyrrel, a knight of his attendants, to shoot;
Tyrrel immediately let fly his arrow, which glancing
against a tree struck the king through the heart, who
fell dead to the ground without speaking a word.
Upon the surprise of this accident all his attendants,
and Tyrrel among the rest, fled different ways, until
the fright being a little over some of them returned,
and causing the body to be laid in a collier's cart for
want of other conveniency, conveyed it in a very
unbecoming, contemptuous manner to Winchester,
where it was buried the next day without solemnity,
and which is worse without grief.
I shall conclude the history of this prince's reign
with a description and character of his body and
mind, impartially, from the collections I have made,
which method I shall observe likewise in all the
succeeding reigns.
He was in stature somewhat below the usual size
and big-bellied; but he was well and strongly knit.
His hair was yellow or sandy, his face red, which got
him the name of Rufus, his forehead flat; his eyes
were spotted and appeared of different colours; he
was apt to stutter in speaking, especially when he
was angry; he was vigorous and active and very
hardy to endure fatigues, which he owed to a good
constitution of health and the frequent exercise of
As he was hunting one day in the New Forest a
messenger express from Normandy brought him in-
telligence that Helie count de la Fleche had laid
close siege to Mans, and expected to carry the town
in a few days. The king leaving his chase com-
manded some about him to point whereabout Mans
lay, and so rode straight on without reflection until
he came to the coast. His attendants advised him
to wait until he had made preparations of men and
money; to which he only returned, "They that love
me will follow me." He entered the ship in a violent
storm, which the mariners beholding with astonish-hunting; in his dress he affected gaiety and expense,
ment, at length in great humility gave him warning
of the danger, but the king commanded them in-
stantly to put off to sea and not be afraid, for he had
never in his life heard of any king that was drowned.
In a few days he drove the enemy from before the
city and took the count himself prisoner, who raging
at his defeat and captivity exclaimed b "That this
Equal to 1,400,400%. as money passes now.
b There is so much pleasantry and humour, as well as spirit
and heroism, in this story, as we have it recorded by William de
Malmesbury, who represents the menace as thrown out in the
king's presence, that I shall make no apology for setting down
his words at length. "Author turbarum Helins capitur; cui
ad se adducto rox ludibundus,Habeo to, magister,' inquit.
At illo, cujus alta nobilitas nesciret etiam in tanto periculo
Fortuito,' inquit, me cepisti; si possum evadere,
sapere;
novi quid facerem.' Tune Willielmus, præ furore ferè extra so
profitus, et obtuens Heliam, Tu,' inquit, nebulo, tu quid
faceres Discede; abi; fuge. Concedo tibi ut facias quicquid
poteris et per vultum de Luca, nihil, si me vicoris, nihil pro
hac veniâ tecum paciscar." i. e. By the face of St. Luke, if
which having been first introduced by this prince
into his court and kingdom grew in succeeding
reigns an intolerable grievance. He also first brought
in among us the luxury and profusion of great tables.
There was in him as in all other men a mixture of
virtues and vices and that in a pretty equal degree,
only the misfortune was that the latter, although not
more numerous, were yet much more prevalent than
the former. For being entirely a man of pleasure,
this made him sacrifice all his good qualities and
gave him too many occasions of producing his ill
ones. He had one very singular virtue for a prince,
which was that of being true to his word and pro-
mise; he was of undoubted personal valour, whereof
the writers in those ages produce several instances,
nor did he want skill and conduct in the process of
war. But his peculiar excellency was that of great
thou should'st have the fortune to conquer me, I scorn to com-
pound with thee for my reloaso.
WILLIAM THE SECOND.
543
despatch, which, however usually decried and allowed, city of Carlisle, remain lasting monuments of his
to be only a happy temerity, does often answer all the magnificence.
ends of secrecy and counsel in a great commander
by surprising and daunting an enemy when he least
expects it, as may appear by the greatest actions and
events upon the records of every nation.
He was a man of sound natural sense, as well as
of wit and humour upon occasion. There were
several tenets in the Romish church he could not
digest, particularly that of the saints' intercession,
and living in an age overrun with superstition he
went so far into the other extreme as to be censured
for an atheist. The day before his death, a monk
relating a terrible dream which seemed to forbode
him some misfortune, the king being told the matter
turned it into a jest; said the man was a monk and
dreamt like a monk, for lucre sake; and therefore
commanded Fitzhamon to give him 100s. that he
might not complain he had dreamt to no purpose.
His vices appear to have been rather derived from
the temper of his body than any original depravity
of his mind, for being of a sanguine complexion,
wholly bent upon his pleasures and prodigal in his
nature, he became engaged in great expenses. To sup-
ply these the people were perpetually oppressed with
illegal taxes and exactions; but that sort of avarice
which arises from prodigality and vice, as it is always
needy, so it is much more ravenous and violent than
the other, which put the king and his evil instru-
ments (among whom Ralph bishop of Durham is
of special infamy) upon those pernicious methods of
gratifying his extravagancies by all manner of oppres-
sion, whereof some are already mentioned, and others
are too foul to relate.
He is generally taxed by writers for discovering a
contempt of religion in his common discourse and
behaviour, which I take to have risen from the same
fountain, being a point of art and a known expe-
dient for men who cannot quit their immoralities,
at least to banish all reflection that may disturb them
in the enjoyment, which must be done either by
not thinking of religion at all, or if it will obtrude
by putting it out of countenance.
Yet there is one instance that might show him to
have some sense of religion as well as justice. When
two monks were outvying each other in canting the
price of an abbey, he observed a third at some dis-
tance who said never a word; the king demanded
why he would not offer? the monk said he was poor,
and besides would give nothing if he were ever so
rich; the king replied, then you are the fittest person
to have it, and immediately gave it him. But this is
perhaps with reason enough assigned more to caprice
than conscience, for he was under the power of every
humour and passion that possessed him for the pre-
sent, which made him obstinate in his resolves and
unsteady in the prosecution.
He had one vice or folly that seemed rooted in his
mind and of all others most unbefitting a prince;
this was a proud, disdainful manner, both in his words
and gesture, and having already lost the love of his
subjects by his avarice and oppression, this finished
the work by bringing him into contempt and hatred
among his servants, so that few among the worst of
princes have had the luck to be so ill beloved or so
little lamented.
.
He never married, having an invincible abhorrence
for the state, although not for the sex.
He died in the thirteenth year of his reign, the
forty-third of his age, and of Christ 1100, August 2.
His works of piety were few, but in buildings he
was very expensive, exceeding any king of England
before or since: among which Westminster-hall,
Windsor-castle, the tower of London, and the whole
• An Irish phrase for selling or buying by auction.
THE REIGN OF HENRY THE FIRST.
THIS prince was the younger son of William the
Conqueror, and bred to more learning than was usual
in that age or to his rank, which got him the sur-
name of Beauclerk, the reputation whereof, together
with his being born in England and born son of a
king, although of little weight in themselves, did
very much strengthen his pretensions with the people.
Besides, he had the same advantage of his brother
Robert's absence which had proved before so success-
ful to Rufus, whose treasures he likewise seized on
immediately at his death after the same manner and
for the same end as Rufus did those of his father the
Conqueror. Robert had been now five years absent in
the Holy War, where he acquitted himself with great
glory, and although he was now in Apulia, upon his
know what was become of him, and others giving
return homeward, yet the nobles pretending not to
out that he had been elected king of Jerusalem,
Henry laid hold of the occasion, and calling together
an assembly of the clergy, nobles, and people of the
realm at London, upon his promises to restore king
been introduced by his father and brother, they con-
Edward's laws and redress the grievances which had
sented to elect him king. Immediately after his
coronation he proceeded upon reforming the abuses
of the late reign; he banished dissolute persons from
the court who had long infested it under the protec-
tion and example of Rufus; he restored the people
to the use of lights in the night, which the Conqueror
had forbidden after a certain hour by the ringing of
a bell. Then he published his charter and ordered
a copy thereof to be taken for every county in Eng-
land. This charter was in substance—the freedom of
heirs of nobles to succeed in the possession of their
mother church from former oppressions, leave to the
paying to the king a moderate relief, abolition of fines
the lands without being obliged to redeem them, only
for licence of marriage to their heiresses, a promise of
not refusing such licence unless the match proposed
guardians of the lands of orphans, punishments for
be with the king's enemy,ª &c., the next of kin to be
coiners of false money, a confirmation of St. Ed-
ward's laws, and a general amnesty.
justice, which by gratifying the revenge and the love
About the same time he performed two acts of
of the people gained very much upon their affections
bishop of Durham, who,
to his person; the first was to imprison Ralph
late king from a mean and sordid birth to be his
bishop of Durham, who, having been raised by the
prime confident and minister, became the chief instru-
ment as well as contriver of all his oppressions; the
second was in recalling and restoring archbishop
persecutions of the same prince to leave England,
Anselm, who, having been forced by the continual
had lived ever since in banishment and deprived of
all his revenues.
The king had not been many months on his throne
when the news came that duke Robert returned from
great marks of joy and honour, and in universal re-
the Holy Land was received by his subjects with
putation for his valour and success against the infidels;
by the negligence or corruption of his keepers,
soon after which Ralph bishop of Durham, either
escaped out of prison and fled over to the duke,
whom he stirred up to renew and solicit his preten-
sions to the crown of England, by writing to several
content or an opinion of his title, gave him promises
nobles, who, either through old friendship or new dis-
of their assistance as soon as he should land in Eng-
land; but the duke, having returned exceeding poor
ni. e. With a traitor or malcontent.
544
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
from the Holy Land, was not yet in a condition for
such an undertaking, and therefore thought fit to defer
it to a more seasonable opportunity.
investiture to certain bishops, commanded Anselm
to consecrate them. This the archbishop refused
with great firmness, pursuant to what he understood
to be his duty and to several immediate commands
of the pope.
Both sides adhering to their own sen-
timents, the matter was carried to Rome, where An-
selm went in person by the king's desire; who at
the same time sent ambassadors thither to assert and
As the king had hitherto with great industry
sought all occasions to gratify his people, so he con-
tinued to do in the choice of a wife. This was
Matilda, daughter of Malcolm the late king of
Scots, a lady of great piety and virtue; who by the
power of persuasion of her friends was prevailed defend his cause; but the pope still insisting, Anselm
with to leave her cloister for a crown, after she had, was forbidden to return to England. The king
as some writers report, already taken the veil. Her seized on all his revenues and would not restore
mother was sister to Edgar Atheling, the last heir-him until, upon other concessions of the pope,
male of the Saxon race; of whom frequent mention Henry was content to yield up his pretensions to the
has been made in the two preceding reigns; and thus investiture; but however kept the right of electing
the Saxon line to the great contentment of the Eng- still in his own hands.
lish nation was again restored.
Duke Robert, having now with much difficulty and
oppression of his subjects raised great forces and
gotten ready a fleet to convey them, resolved once
them, resolved once
more to assert his title to the crown of England: to
which end he had for some time held a secret corre-
spondence with several nobles, and lately received
fresh invitations. The king, on the other side, who
had received timely intelligence of his brother's
preparations, gave orders to his admirals to watch
the seaports and endeavour to hinder the enemy's
landing; but the commanders of several ships,
whether Robert had won them by his bribes or his
promises, instead of offering resistance became his
guides and brought his fleet safe into Portsmouth,
where he landed his men, and from thence marched
to Winchester, his army hourly increasing by great
numbers of people, who had either an affection for
his person, an opinion of his title, or hatred to the
king. In the mean time Henry advanced with his
forces, to be near the duke and observe his motions;
but like a wise general forbore offering battle to an
invader until he might do it with manifest advan-
tage. Besides, he knew very well that his brother
was a person whose policy was much inferior to his
valour, and therefore to be sooner overcome in a
treaty than a fight; to this end, the nobles on
both sides began to have frequent interviews, to
make overtures, and at last concert the terms of a
peace, but wholly to the advantage of the king;
Robert renouncing his pretensions in consideration
of a small pension and of succeeding to the crown
on default of male issue in his brother.
The defection of nobles and other people to the
duke was so great, that men generally thought if it
had come to a battle the king would have lost both
the victory and his crown. But Robert, upon his
return to Normandy after this dishonourable peace,
grew out of all reputation with the world as well as
into perfect hatred and contempt among his own
subjects, which in a short time was the cause of
his ruin.
The king, having thus by his prudence got rid of
a dangerous and troublesome rival, and soon after
by his valour quelled the insurrections of the earls
of Shrewsbury and Mortain, whom he forced to fly
into Normandy, found himself in full peace at home
and abroad, and therefore thought he might venture
a contention with the church about the right of in-
vesting bishops; upon which subject many other
princes at that time had controversy with their
clergy; but after long struggling in vain, were all
forced to yield at last to the decree of a synod in
Rome and to the pertinacy of the bishops in the
several countries. The form of investing a bishop
was by delivery of a ring and a pastoral staff;
which at Rome was declared unlawful to be per-
formed by any lay hand whatsoever; but the princes
of Christendom pleaded immemorial custom to au-
thorize them; and king Henry, having given the
|
Whatever might have been the method of electing
bishops in the more primitive ages, it seems plain to
me that in these times and somewhat before, al-
though the election was made
though the election was made per clerum et popu-
lum, yet the king always nominated at first or ap-
proved afterward, and generally both, as may be seen
by the style in which their elections ran, as well as
by the persons chosen, who were usually churchmen
of the court or in some employment near the king.
But whether this were a gradual encroachment of
the regal upon the spiritual power I would rather
leave others to dispute.
At the
1104. About this time duke Robert came to
England upon a visit to the king, where he was re-
ceived with much kindness and hospitality; but at
the same time the queen had private directions to
manage his easy temper and work him to a consent
of remitting his pension: this was compassed with-
out much difficulty; but upon the duke's return to
Normandy he was severely reproved for his weak-
ness by Ralph bishop of Durham, and the two earls
of Mortain and Shrewsbury. These three, having
fled from England for rebellion and other treasons,
lived exiles in Normandy; and bearing an invete-
rate hatred to the king, resolved to stir up the duke
to a resentment of the injury and fraud of his
brother. Robert, who was various in his nature and
always under the power of the present persuader,
easily yielded to their incitements; reproached the
king in bitter terms, by letters and messages that
he had cozened and circumvented him; demanding
satisfaction and withal threatening revenge.
same time, by the advice of the three nobles already
mentioned, he began to arm himself as formidably
as he could, with the design to seize upon the king's
possessions in Normandy: but as this resolution was
rashly taken up, so it was as faintly pursued, and
ended in his destruction; neither has any prince rea-
son to expect better fortune that engages in a war
against a powerful neighbour upon the counsel or in-
stigation of exiles, who, having no further view than
to serve their private interest or gratify their revenge,
are sure to succeed in one or the other if they can
embark princes in their quarrel, whom they fail not
to incite by the falsets representations of their own
strength and the weakness of their enemy: for, as
the king was now settled in his throne too firmly to
be shaken, so Robert had wholly lost all credit and
friendship in England; was sunk in reputation at
home; and by his unlimited profuseness reduced
so low that, having pawned most of his dominions,
he had offered Rouen, his capital city, in sale
1105.
to the inhabitants. All this was very well
known to the king, who, resolving to make his ad-
vantage thereof, pretended to be highly provoked at
the disgraceful speeches and menaces of his brother,
which he made the formal occasion of a quarrel:
therefore, he first sent over some forces to ravage
his country; and understanding that the duke was
coldly supported by his own subjects, many of whom
HENRY THE FIRST.
545
came over to the king's army, he soon followed in
person with more, took several towns, and placing
garrisons therein, came back to England, designing
with the first pretext or opportunity to return with
a more potent army and wholly subdue the duchy
to his obedience.
Robert, now grown sensible of his weakness, be-
came wholly dispirited; and following his brother
into England, in a most dejected manner begged
for a peace: but the king, now fully determined
upon his ruin, turned away in disdain, muttering at
the same time some threatening words. This indig-
nity roused up once more the sinking courage of the
duke; who, with bitter words, detesting the pride
and insolence of Henry, withdrew in a rage, and
hasting back to Normandy made what preparations
he could for his own defence. The king, observing
his nobles very ready to engage with him in this ex-
pedition, and being assured that those in Normandy
would upon his approach revolt from the duke,
soon followed with a mighty army and the flower of
his kingdom. Upon his arrival he was attended,
according to his expectation, by several Norman
lords; and with this formidable force sat down
before Tinchebray: the duke, accompanied by the
two exiled earls, advanced with what strength he
had, in hopes to draw the enemy from the siege of
so important a place, although at the hazard of a
battle. Both armies being drawn out in battalia,
that of the king's, trusting to their numbers, began
to charge with great fury but without any
1106.
order. The duke, with forces far inferior, re-
ceived the enemy with much firmness; and finding
they had spent their first heat, advanced very regu-
larly against their main body before they could re-
cover themselves from the confusion they were in.
He attacked them with so much courage that he
broke their whole body, and they began to fly on
every side. The king, believing all was lost, did
what he could, by threats and gentle words, to stop
the flight of his men, but found it impossible: then
he commanded two bodies of horse which were
placed on either wing to join, and, wheeling about,
to attack the enemy in rear. The duke, who
thought himself so near a victory, was forced to stop
his pursuit, and, ordering his men to face about, be-
gan the fight anew: meantime, the scattered parts
of the main body which had so lately fled, began to
rally and pour in upon the Normans behind, by
which duke Robert's army was almost encompassed;
yet they kept their ground awhile and made several
charges, until at length, perfectly overborne by num-
bers, they were utterly defeated. There duke
Robert, doing all the parts of a great captain, was
taken prisoner, together with the earl of Mortain,
and almost his whole army; for, being hemmed in
on all sides, few of them could make their escape.
1107.
Thus, in the space of forty years, Normandy
subdued England and England Normandy;
which are events perhaps hardly to be paralleled in
any other ages or parts of the world.
The king having stayed a while to settle the state
of Normandy returned with his brother into Eng-
land, whom he sent prisoner to Cardiff castle, with
orders that he should be favourably used, which for
some time were duly observed; until, being accused
of attempting to make his escape (whether it were
real or feigned), he had his eyes put out with a
burning basin by the king's express commands, in
which miserable condition he lived for six-and-
twenty years.
It is believed the king would hardly have engaged
in this unnatural and invidious war with so little
pretence or provocation if the pope had not openly
VOL. I.
approved and sanctified his cause, exhorting him to
it as a meritorious action; which seems to have
been but an ill return from the vicar of CHRIST to a
prince who had performed so many brave exploits
for the service of the church, to the hazard of his
person and ruin of his fortune. But the very bigot-
ed monks who have left us their accounts of those
times do generally agree in heavily taxing the Ro-
And the
man court for bribery and corruption.
king had promised to remit his right of investing
bishops, which he performed immediately after his
reduction of Normandy, and was a matter of much
more service to the pope than all the achievements
of duke Robert in the Holy Land, whose merits as
well as pretensions were now antiquated and out of
date.
1109. About this time the emperor Henry V. sent
to desire Maude the king's daughter in marriage,
That
who was then a child about eight years old.
prince had lately been embroiled in a quarrel with
the see of Rome, which began upon the same sub-
ject of investing bishops, but was carried to great
extremities; for, invading Italy with a mighty army,
he took the pope prisoner, forced him to yield to
whatever terms he thought fit to impose, and to take
an oath of fidelity to him between his hands: how-
ever, as soon as Henry had withdrawn his forces,
the pope, assembling a council, revoked all his con-
cessions as extorted by compulsion, and raised great
troubles in Germany against the emperor, who, in
order to secure himself, sought this alliance with the
king.
About this time likewise died archbishop Anselm,
a prelate of great piety and learning, whose zeal for
the see of Rome as well as for his own rights and
privileges should in justice be imputed to the errors
of the time, and not of the man. After his death,
the king, following the steps of his brother, held the
see vacant five years, contenting himself with an
excuse which looked like a jest, That he only waited
until he could find another so good a man as Anselm.
In the fourteenth year of this king's reign the
Welsh after their usual manner invaded the marches
with great fury and destruction; but the king, hop-
ing to put a final end to those perpetual troubles
and vexations given to his kingdom by that unquiet
people, went in person against them with a powerful
army; and to prevent their usual stratagem of re-
treating to their woods and mountains and other
fastnesses, he ordered the woods to be cut down,
beset all their places of security, and, hunting them
like wild beasts, made so terrible a slaughter that,
at length observing them to fling down their arms.
and beg for quarter, he commanded his soldiers to
forbear; then receiving their submissions and plac-
ing garrisons where he thought necessary, he returned
in great triumph and satisfaction to London.
1114. The princess Maude, being now marriage-
able, was delivered to the emperor's ambassador;
and for a portion to the young lady a tax was im-
posed of 3s. upon every hide of land in England,
which grew afterward into a custom, and was in
succeeding times confirmed by acts of parliament
under the name of "reasonable aid for marrying
the king's daughter," although levied after a differ-
ent manner.
As the institution of parliaments in England is
agreed by several writers to be owing to this king,
so the date of the first has been assigned by some to
the fifteenth year of his reign; which however is
not to be affirmed with any certainty: for great
councils were convoked not only in the two preced-
ing reigns, but for time immemorial by the Saxon
princes, who first introduced them into this island,
2 N
546
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
from the same original with the other Gothic forms
of government in most parts of Europe. These
councils or assemblies were composed according to
the pleasure of the prince who convened them,
generally of nobles and bishops, sometimes were
added some considerable commoners; but they sel-
dom met except in the beginning of a reign, or in
times of war, until this king came to the crown;
who, being a wise and popular prince, called these
great assemblies upon most important affairs of his
reign, and ever followed their advice; which if it
proved successful the honour and advantage re-
dounded to him, and if otherwise he was free from
the blame: thus when he chose a wife for himself
and a husband for his daughter, when he designed
his expedition against Robert, and even for the elec-
tion of an archbishop to the see of Canterbury, he
proceeded wholly by the advice of such general
assemblies summoned for the purpose. But the
style of these conventions as delivered by several
authors is very various: sometimes it is comites, ba-
rones, et cleri [Brompton]; his marriage was agreed
on, consilio majorum natu et magnatum terræ. One
author [Polydore Virgil] calls it concilium princi-
pium, sacerdotum, et reliqui populi. And for the
election of an archbishop the Saxon Chronicle says,
that he commanded by letters all bishops, abbots,
and thanes to meet him at Gloucester, ad procerum
conventum. Lastly, some affirm these assemblies
to have been an imitation of the three estates in
Normandy. I am very sensible how much time and
pains have been employed by several learned men
to search out the original of parliaments in Eng-
land, wherein I doubt they have little satisfied others
or themselves. I know likewise that to engage in
the same inquiry would neither suit my abilities nor
my subject. It may be sufficient for my purpose if
I be able to give some little light into this matter
for the curiosity of those who are less informed.
By
nobles were a standing council; and upon affairs of
great importance the freemen were likewise called
by their representatives to give their advice.
which it appears that the Gothic frame of govern-
ment consisted at first but of two states or assem-
blies under the administration of a single person.
But after the conversion of these princes and their
people to the christian faith, the church became
endowed with great possessions, as well by the
bounty of kings as the arts and industry of the
clergy winning upon the devotion of their new con-
verts and power by the common maxim always
accompanying property, the ecclesiastics began soon
to grow considerable, to form themselves into a
body, and to call assemblies or synods by their own
authority, or sometimes by the command of their
princes, who in an ignorant age had a mighty vene-
ration for their learning as well as piety. By such
degrees the church arrived at length by very justi-
fiable steps to have her share in the commonwealth,
and became a third estate in most kingdoms of
Europe; but these assemblies as we have already
observed were seldom called in England before the
reign of this prince, nor even then were always
composed after the same manner: neither does it
appear from the writers who lived nearest to that
age that the people had any representative at all
beside the barons and other nobles, who did not sit
in those assemblies by virtue of their birth or crea-
tion, but of the lands or baronies they held. So
that the present constitution of the English parlia-
ment has by many degrees and alterations been mo-
deled to the frame it is now in: which alterations I
shall observe in the succeeding reigns as exactly as
I can discover them by a diligent search into the
histories of the several ages, without engaging in the
controverted points of law about this matter, which
would rather perplex the reader than inform him.
|
►
1116. But to return: Lewis the Gross, king of
France, a valiant and active prince, in the flower of
his age, succeeding to that crown that Robert was
deprived of-Normandy, grew jealous of the neigh-
bourhood and power of king Henry, and began
early to entertain designs either of subduing that
duchy to himself, or at least of making a consider-
able party against the king, in favour of William
son of Robert, whom for that end he had taken into
his protection. Pursuant to these intentions, he
soon found an occasion for a quarrel, expostulating
with Henry that he had broken his promise by not
doing homage for the duchy of Normandy, as well
as by neglecting to raze the castle of Gisors, which
was built on the French side of the river Epte, the
common boundary between both dominions.
The institution of a state or commonwealth out of
a mixture of the three forms of government received
in the schools, however it be derided as a solecism
and absurdity by some late writers on politics, has
been very ancient in the world and is celebrated by
the gravest authors of antiquity. For although the
supreme power cannot properly be said to be divided,
yet it may be so placed in three several hands as
each to be a check upon the other; or formed into
a balance which is held by him that has the execu-
tive power, with the nobility and people in counter-
poise in each scale. Thus the kingdom of Media is
represented by Xenophon before the reign of Cyrus ;
so Polybius tells us the best government is a mixture
of the three forms, regno, optimatium, et populi im-
perio; the same was that of Sparta in its primitive
institution by Lycurgus, made up of reges, seniores,
et populus; the like may be asserted of Rome, Car-
thage, and other states; and the Germans of old fell
upon the same model, from whence the Goths their
neighbours with the rest of those northern people
did perhaps borrow it. But an assembly of the three
estates is not properly of Gothic institution; for
these fierce people, when, upon the decline of the
Roman empire, they first invaded Europe and set-
tled so many kingdoms in Italy, Spain, and other
parts, were all heathens; and when a body of them
had fixed themselves in a tract of land left desolate
by the flight or destruction of the natives, their mili-
tary government by time and peace became civil;
the general was king, his great officers were his
nobles and ministers of state, and the common sol-
diers the body of the people; but these were free-
men, and had smaller portions of land assigned
them. The remaining natives were all slaves; the
But an incident soon offered which gave king
Henry a pretext for retaliating almost in the same
manner; for it happened that upon some offence
taken against his nephew Theobald count of Blois
by the French king, Lewis in great rage sent an
army to invade and ravage the earl's territories.
Theobald defended himself for a while with much
valour; but at length, in danger to be overpowered,
requested aid of his uncle the king of England, who
supported him so effectually with men and money
that he was able not only to defend his own coun-
try but very much to infest and annoy his enemy.
try but
Thus a war was kindled between the two kings:
Lewis now openly asserted the title of William the
son of Robert, and entering into an alliance with
the earls of Flanders and Anjou, began to concert.
measures for driving king Henry out of Normandy.
The king, having timely intelligence of his ene-
my's designs, began with great vigour and despatch
to prepare for war: he raised, with much difficulty
HENRY THE FIRST.
547
At home he was respected by the clergy, reverenced
by the nobles, and beloved by the people; in his
family he was blessed with a son of much hopes, just
growing to years of manhood, and his daughter was
an empress; so that he seemed to possess as great a
share of happiness as human life is capable to ad-
mit. But the felicity of man depends upon a con-
junction of many circumstances, which are all sub-
and discontent of his people, the greatest tax that
had ever been known in England; and passing over
into Normandy with a mighty army, joined his
nephew Theobald. The king of France, who had
entertained hopes that he should overrun the duchy
before his enemy could arrive, advanced with great
security towards the frontiers of Normandy; but
observing an enemy of equal number and force
already prepared to engage him, he suddenly stop-ject to various accidents, and every single accident
ped his march. The two armies faced one another
for some hours, neither side offering battle: the rest
of the day was spent in light skirmishes, begun by
the French and repeated for some days following
with various success; but the remainder of the
year
passed without any considerable action.
1119. At length the violence of the two princes
brought it to a battle: for Lewis, to give a reputa-
tion to his arms, advanced towards the frontiers of
Normandy, and after a short siege took Gue Ni-
caise ;ª there the king met him, and the fight began,
which continued with great obstinacy on both sides
for nine hours. The French army was divided into
two bodies and the English into three; by which
means that part where the king fought in person,
being attacked by a superior number, began to give
way; and William Crispin, a Norman baron, sin-
gling out the king of England (whose subject he
had been, but banished for treason), struck him
twice on the head with so much violence that the
blood gushed out of his mouth. The king, inflamed
with rage and indignation, dealt such furious blows
that he struck down several of his enemies, and
Crispin among the rest, who was taken prisoner at
his horse's feet. The soldiers, encouraged by the
valour of their prince, rallied and fell on with fresh
vigour; and the victory seemed doubtful when Wil-
liam, the son of king Henry, to whom his father had
intrusted the third body of his army, which had not
yet engaged, fell on with this fresh reserve upon the
enemy, who was already very much harassed with
the toil of the day: this quickly decided the matter
for the French, though valiantly fighting, were over-
come, with the slaughter of several thousand men;
their king quitted the field and withdrew to Andely;
but the king of England recovering Gue Nicaise re-
turned triumphant to Rouen.
;
This important victory was followed by the de-
fection of the earl of Anjou to king Henry, and the
earl of Flanders fell in the battle; by which the
king of France was at once deprived of two power-
ful allies. However, by the intercession of the
former, a peace was soon after made between both
crowns. William the king's son did homage to
Lewis for the dukedom of Normandy; and the
other William, following the fortunes of his father,
was left to his pretensions and complaints.
It is here observable that from this time until
Wales was subdued to the English crown the eldest
sons of England were called dukes of Normandy, as
they are now princes of Wales.
1120. The king, having stayed some time in Nor-
mandy for the settlement of his duchy after the cala-
mities and confusions of a war, returned to England,
to the very great satisfaction of his people and him-
self. He had enlarged his dominions by the con-
quest of Normandy; he had subdued all his com-
petitors, and forced even the king of France, their
great protector, after a glorious victory, to his own
conditions of a peace; he was upon very good terms
with the pope, who had a great esteem and friend-
ship for his person, and made him larger concessions
than was usual from that see and in those ages.
"At that time reckoned an important fortress on the river
Epte.
is able to dissolve the whole contexture; which
truth was never verified more than in this prince,
who, by one domestic misfortune, not to be pre-
vented or foreseen, found all the pleasure and con-
tent he proposed to himself by his prudence, his in-
dustry, and his valour, wholly disappointed and de-
stroyed; for William, the young prince, having em-
barked at Barfleur some time after his father, the
mariners, being all drunk, suffered the ship to run
upon a rock, where it was dashed to pieces: the
prince made a shift to get into the boat, and was
making to the shore until forced back by the cries
of his sister, whom he received into the boat; so
many others crowded in at the same time that it
was immediately overturned. There perished, be-
side the prince, a natural son and daughter of the
king, his niece, and many other persons of quality,
together with all their attendants and servants, to
the number of 140, beside 50 mariners; but one
person escaping.
Although the king survived this cruel misfortune
many years, yet he could never recover his former
humour, but grew melancholy and morose; how-
ever, in order to provide better for the peace and
settlement of the kingdom after his death, about five
months after the loss of his son, his former queen
having died three years before, he married Adelais,
a beautiful young lady of the family of Lorrain,a in
hopes of issue by her; but never had any.
1124.
The death of the prince gave occasion to some
new troubles in Normandy, for the earls of Meulant
and Evreux, Hugh de Montfort, and other asso-
ciates, began to raise insurrections there, which were
thought to be privately fomented by the French
king, out of enmity to king Henry, and in favour of
William the son of Robert, to whom the earl
of Anjou had lately given his daughter in
marriage. But William of Tankerville, the king's
lieutenant in Normandy, surprising the enemy's
forces by an ambush, entirely routed them, took both
the earls prisoners, and sent one of them (Meulant)
to his master; but the count d'Evreux made his
escape.
1126. King Henry having now lost hope of is-
sue by his new queen, brought with him, on his
return to England, his daughter Maude, who by
the emperor's death had been lately left a widow
and childless; and in a parliament or general assem-
bly which he had summoned at Windsor he caused
the crown to be settled on her and her issue, and
made all his nobles take a solemn oath to defend her
title. This was performed by none with so much
forwardness as Stephen earl of Boulogne, who was
observed to show a more than ordinary zeal in the
matter. This young lord was the king's nephew,
being second son of the earl of Blois by Adela, the
Conqueror's daughter. He was in high favour with
the king his uncle, who had married him to the
daughter and heiress of the earl of Boulogne, given
him great possessions in England, and made him
indeed too powerful for a subject.
The king, having thus fixed the succession of the
crown in his daughter by an act of settlement and
She was daughter of Godfrey duke of Louvain, or the Lower
Lorrain.
2N2
548
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
an oath of fealty, looked about to provide her with
a second husband, and at length determined his
choice in Geoffry Plantagenet, earl of Anjou, the
son of Fulk, lately deceased.
This prince, whose dominions confined on France
and Normandy, was usually courted for an ally by
both kings in their several quarrels; but having little
faith or honour he never scrupled to change sides
as often as he saw or conceived it for his advantage.
After the great victory over the French he closed in
with king Henry, and gave his daughter to the
young prince William; yet at the same time, by the
private encouragement of Lewis, he prevailed on the
king of England to be easy in the conditions of a
peace. Upon the unfortunate loss of the prince and
the troubles in Normandy thereupon, he fell again
from the king, gave his other daughter to William
the son of Robert, and stuck up with France to take
that prince again into protection. But dying soon
after and leaving his son Geoffry to succeed in that
earldom, the king was of opinion he could not any-
where bestow his daughter with more advantage,
both for the security and enlargement of his domi-
nions, than by giving her to this earl; by which
marriage Anjou would become an acquisition to
Normandy, and thus be a more equal match to so
formidable a neighbour as France. In a short time
the marriage was concluded, and this earl Geoffry
had the honour to introduce into the royal family of
England the surname of Plantagenet, borne by so
many succeeding kings, which began with Henry II.,
who was the eldest son of this marriage.
|
But the king of France was in great discontent at
this match: he easily foresaw the dismal conse-
quences to himself and his successors from such an
increase of dominion united to the crown of Eng-|
land: he knew what impressions might be made in
future times to the shaking of his throne by an aspir-
ing and warlike king, if they should happen in a
weak reign or upon any great discontents in that
kingdom. Which conjectures being highly reason-
able (and since often verified by events), he cast
about to find some way of driving the king of Eng-
land entirely out of France; but having neither pre-
text nor stomach in the midst of a peace to begin an
open and formal quarrel, there fell out an accident
which gave him plausible occasion of pursuing his
designs.
Charles the Good, earl of Flanders, having been
lately murdered by some of his subjects upon private
revenge, the king of France went in person to take
revenge of the assassins, which he performed with
great justice and honour. But the late earl leaving
no heir of his body, and several competitors appear-
ing to dispute the succession, Lewis rejected some
others who seemed to have a fairer title and adjudged
it to William the son of Robert, the better to secure
him to his interests upon any design he might en-
gage in against the king of England. Not content
with this, he assisted the earl in person, subdued
his rivals, and left him in peaceable possession of
his new dominion.
King Henry, on the other side, was very appre-
hensive of his nephew's greatness, well knowing to
what end it was directed; however, he seemed not
to regard it, contenting himself to give the earl em-
ployment at home by privately nourishing the dis-
contents of his new subjects, and abetting underhand
another pretender, for William had so entirely lost
the hearts of his people by his intolerable avarice
and exactions that the principal towns in Flanders
revolted from him and invited Thierrie earl of Al-
sace to be their governor. But the king of France
generously resolved to appear once more in his de-
|
fence, and took his third expedition into Flanders
for that purpose. He had marched as far as Artois
when he was suddenly recalled to defend his own
dominions from the fury of a powerful and provoked
invader; for Henry king of England, moved with
indignation to see the French king, in the midst of
a peace, so frequently and openly supporting his
most dangerous enemy, thought it the best way to
divert Lewis from kindling a fire against him abroad
by forcing him to extinguish one at home: he there-
fore entered into the bowels of France, ravaging
and laying waste all before him, and quickly grew
so formidable that the French king to purchase a
peace was forced to promise never more to assist or
favour the earl of Flanders: however, as it fell out,
this article proved to be wholly needless, for the
young earl soon after gave battle to Thierrie and put
his whole army to the rout; but pursuing his vic-
tory he received a wound in his wrist, which by the
unskilfulness of a surgeon cost him his life.
This one slight inconsiderable accident did in all
probability put a stop to very great events, for if
that young prince had survived his victory it is
hardly to be doubted but through the justness of his
cause, the reputation of his valour, and the assistance
of the king of France, he would in a little time have
recovered Normandy, and perhaps his father's liberty,
which were the two designs he had in agitation;
nor could he well have missed the crown of Eng-
land after the king's death, who was now in his de-
cline, when he had so fair a title and no competitor
in view but a woman and an infant.
1129. Upon the king's return from Normandy
a great council of the clergy was held at London
for the punishing of priests who lived in concu-
binage, which was the great grievance of the church
in those ages, and had been condemned by several
canons. This assembly, thinking to take a more
effectual course against that abomination as it was
called, decreed severe penalties upon those who
should be guilty of breaking it, entreating the king
to see the law put in execution, which he very rea-
dily undertook, but performed otherwise than was
expected, eluding the force of the law by an evasion
to his own advantage; for, exacting fines of the de-
linquent priests, he suffered them to keep their con-
cubines without further disturbance; a very unac
countable step in so wise a body for their own con-
cernments as the clergy of those times is looked
upon to have been; and although perhaps the fact
be not worth recording, it may serve as a lesson to
all assemblies never to trust the execution of a law
in the hands of those who will find it more to their
interests to see it broken than observed.
1132. The empress Maude was now happily de-
livered of a son, who was afterward king of England
by the name of Henry II.; and the king, calling a
parliament, had the oath of fealty repeated by the
nobles and clergy to her and her issue, which in the
compass of three years they all broke or forgot.
1134. I think it may deserve a place in this history
to mention the last scene of duke Robert's life, who,
either through the poorness or greatness of spirit,
having outlived the loss of his honour, his dominions,
his liberty, his eyesight, and his only son, was at
last forced to sink under the load of eighty years,
and must be allowed for the greatest example either
of insensibility or contempt of earthly things that
ever appeared in a sovereign or private person.
was a prince hardly equalled by any in his time for
valour, conduct, and courtesy: but his ruin began
from the easiness of his nature, which whoever knew
how to manage were sure to be refused nothing they
could ask. By such profusion he was reduced to
He
HENRY THE FIRST.
549
those unhappy expedients of remitting his rights for
a pension, of pawning his towns, and multiplying
taxes, which brought him into hatred and contempt
with his subjects; neither do I think any virtue so
little commendable in a sovereign as that of liberality,
where it exceeds what his ordinary revenues can
supply; where it passes those bounds his subjects
must all be oppressed to show his bounty to a few
Hatterers, or he must sell his towns, or basely re-
nounce his rights, by becoming pensioner to some
powerful prince in the neighbourhood, all which we
have lived to see performed by a late monarch in our
own time and country.
1135. Since the reduction of Normandy to the
king's obedience he found it necessary for his affairs
to spend in that duchy some part of his time almost
every year, and a little before the death of Robert
he made his last voyage there. It was observable
in this prince that, having some years past very nar-
rowly escaped shipwreck in his passage from Nor-
inandy into England, the sense of his danger had
made very deep impressions on his mind, which he
discovered by a great reformation in his life, by re-
dressing several grievances, and doing many acts of
piety; and to show the steadiness of his resolutions
he kept them to the last, making a progress through
most parts of Normandy, treating his subjects in all
places with great familiarity and kindness, granting
their petitions, easing their taxes, and, in a word,
giving all possible marks of a religious, wise, and
gracious prince.
Returning to St. Denys le Forment from his pro-
gress a little indisposed, he there fell into a fever,
upon a surfeit of lamprey, which in a few days ended
his life. His body was conveyed to England and
buried at Reading, in the abbey-church himself had
founded.
It is hard to affirm anything peculiar of this
prince's character, those authors who have attempted
it mentioning very little but what was common to
him with thousands of other men, neither have they
recorded any of those personal circumstances or pas-
sages which only can discover such qualities of the
mind as most distinguish one man from another.
These defects may perhaps appear in the stories of
many succeeding kings, which makes me hope I
shall not be altogether blamed for sometimes disap-
pointing the reader in a point wherein I could wish
to be the most exact.
As to his person, he is described to be of middle
stature, his body strong set and fleshy, his hair
black, his eyes large, his countenance amiable and
very pleasant, especially when he was merry. He
was temperate in meat and drink, and a hater of
effeminacy, a vice or folly much complained of in
his time, especially that circumstance of long artifi-
cial hair, which he forbade upon severe penalties.
His three principal virtues were prudence, valour,
and eloquence. These were counterbalanced by
three great vices, avarice, cruelty, and lust, of which
the first is proved by the frequency of his taxes, the
second by his treatment of duke Robert, and the
last was notorious. But the proof of his virtues
does not depend on single instances, manifesting
themselves through the whole course of a long reign,
which was hardly attended by any misfortune that
prudence, justice, or valour could prevent.
came to the crown at a ripe age, when he had passed
thirty years, having learned in his private life to
struggle with hardships, whereof he had his share,
from the capriciousness and injustice of both his
brothers; and by observing their failures he had
learned to avoid them in himself, being steady and
uniform in his whole conduct, which were qualities
He
they both seemed chiefly to want. This likewise
made him so very tenacious as he was observed to
be in his love and hatred. He was a strict observer
of justice, which he seems never to have violated
but in that particular case which political casuists.
are pleased to dispense with, where the dispute is
about a crown. In that he a ******
Considering him as a private man, he was perhaps
the most accomplished person of his age, having a
facetious wit, cultivated by learning, and advanced
with a great share of natural eloquence, which was
his peculiar talent: and it was no doubt the sense
he had of this last perfection in himself that put him
so often upon calling together the great councils of
the nation, where natural oratorv is of most figure
as well as use.
THE REIGN OF STEPHEN.
THE veneration which people are supposed naturally
to pay to a right line and a lawful title in their
kings must be upheld by a long uninterrupted suc-
cession, otherwise it quickly loses opinion, upon
which the strength of it, although not the justice, is
entirely founded: and where breaches have been
already made in the lineal descent there is little secu-
rity in a good title (though confirmed by promises.
and oaths) where the lawful heir is absent and a
popular aspiring pretender near at hand. This I
think may pass for a maxim, if any consequences
drawn from history can pretend to be called so,
having been verified successively three times in this
kingdom-I mean by the two preceding kings and by
the prince whose reign we are now writing. Neither
can this observation be justly controlled by any in-
stances brought of future princes who being absent
at their predecessor's death have peaceably suc-
ceeded, the circumstances being very different in
every case, either by the weakness or justice of pre-
tenders, or else by the long establishment of lineal
succession.
b
1135. Stephen earl of Boulogne, whose descent
has been already shown in the foregoing reign, was
the second of three brothers, whereof the eldest was
Theobald earl of Blois, a sovereign prince, and
Henry, the youngest, was bishop of Winchester and
the pope's legate in England. At the time of king
Henry's death his daughter the empress was with
her husband the earl of Anjou, a grave and cautious
prince, altogether unqualified for sudden enterprises;
but earl Stephen, who had attended the king in his
last expedition, made so great despatch for England,
that the council had not time to meet and make any
declaration about a successor. When the lords were
assembled, the legate had already by his credit and
influence among them brought over a great party
to his brother's interests; and the earl himself, know-
ing with what success the like methods were used by
his two last predecessors, was very liberal of his pro-
mises to amend the laws, support the church, and re-
dress grievances, for all which the bishop undertook
to be guarantee. And thus was Stephen elected by
those very persons who had so lately, and in so solemn
a manner, more than once sworn fealty to another.
The motives whereby the nobility was swayed to
proceed after this manner were obvious enough.
There had been a perpetual struggle between them
and their former kings in the defence of their liber-
ties; for the security whereof they thought a king
elected without other title would be readier to enter
into any obligations, and being held in constant de-
い
​Here the sentence breaks off short, and is left unfinished.
Henry's death,
Stephen was at Boulogue when he received the news of
550
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
pendence would be less tempted to break them;
therefore, as at his coronation they obtained full
security by his taking new and additional oaths in
favour of their liberties, their oath of fealty to him
was but conditional, to be of force no longer than
he should be true to those stipulations.
several lords, who, although they never believed the
thing, yet made use of it for an occasion or pretext
to fortify their castles, which they refused to sur-
render to the king himself; but Stephen was resolved,
as he said, to convince them that he was alive and
well; for coming against them before he was ex-
pected, he recovered Exeter, Norwich, and other for-
But other reasons were contrived and given out to
satisfy the people; they were told it was an indig-tified places, although not without much difficulty.
nity for so noble a nation to be governed by a woman;
that the late king had promised to marry his daughter
within the realm and by consent of parliament,
neither of which was observed; and lastly, Hugh
Bigod, steward to king Henry, took a voluntary oath
before the archbishop of Canterbury, that his master
in his last sickness had upon some displeasure dis-
inherited his daughter.
He received the crown with one great advantage
that could best enable him to preserve it; this was
the possession of his uncle's treasures, amounting to
100,000l., and reckoned as a prodigious sum in those
days; by the help of which, without ever raising one
tax upon the people, he defended an unjust title
against the lawful heir during a perpetual contest of
almost twenty years.
In order to defend himself against any sudden in-
vasion, which he had cause enough to expect, he
gave all men licence to build castles upon their lands,
which proved a very mistaken piece of politics,
although grounded upon some appearance of reason.
The king supposed that no invader would venture to
advance into the heart of his country without re-
ducing every castle in his way, which must be a
work of much time and difficulty, nor would be
able to afford men to block them up and secure his
retreat; which way of arguing may be good enough
to a prince of an undisputed title and entirely in the
hearts of his subjects; but numerous castles are ill
defenders of an usurpation, being the common
retreat of malcontents, where they can fly with
security and discover their affections as they please;
by which means the enemy, although beaten in the
field, may still preserve his footing in the bowels of
a country, may wait supplies from abroad and prolong
a war for many years; nor while he is master of
any
castles can he ever be at mercy by any sudden mis-
fortune, but may be always in a condition of demand-
ing terms for himself. These and many other effects
of so pernicious a counsel the king found through
the whole course of his reign; which was entirely
spent in sieges, revolts, surprises, and surrenders,
with very few battles but no decisive action; a period
of much misery and confusion, which affords little
that is memorable for events or useful for the instruc-
tion of posterity.
1136. The first considerable enemy that appeared
against him was David king of Scots, who, having
taken the oath of fealty to Maude and her issue,
being further engaged by the ties of blood and
stirred up through the persuasions of several English
nobles, began to take up arms in her cause, and in-
vading the northern parts took Carlisle and New-
castle; but upon the king's speedy approach with
his forces a peace was presently made and the towns
restored. However, the Scottish prince would by
no means renounce his fidelity to the empress by
paying homage to Stephen; so that an expedient
was found to have it performed by his eldest son, in
consideration of which the king gave, or rather re-
stored, to him the earldom of Huntington.
Upon his return to London from this expedition
he happened to fall sick of a lethargy, and it was con-
fidently given out that he was dead. This report was
with great industry and artifice dispersed by his ene-
mies, which quickly discovered the ill inclination of
|
|
It is obvious enough to wonder how a prince of
so much valour and other excellent endowments,
elected by the church and state after a compliance
with all conditions they could impose on him, and
in an age when so little regard was had to the lineal
descent, lastly confirmed by the pope himself, should
be soon deserted and opposed by those very persons
who had been the most instrumental to promote him.
But beside his defective title and the undistinguished
liberty of building castles, there were three circum-
stances which very much contributed to those per-
petual revolts of the nobles against him: first, that
upon his coming to the crown he was very liberal in
distributing lands and honours to several young
gentlemen of noble birth who came to make their
court, whereby he hoped to get the reputation of a
generous prince and to strengthen his party against
the empress; but by this encouragement the number
of pretenders quickly grew too fast upon him; and
when he had granted all he was able he was forced
to dismiss the rest with promises and excuses; who,
either out of envy or discontent, or else to mend
their fortunes, never failed to become his enemies
upon the first occasion that offered. Secondly, when
he had reduced several castles and towns which had
given the first example of defection from him, he
hardly inflicted the least punishment on the authors,
which unseasonable mercy, that in another prince
and another age would have been called greatness of
spirit, passed in him for pusillanimity and fear, and
is reckoned by the writers of those times to have
The
been the cause of many succeeding revolts.
third circumstance was of a different kind; for, ob-
serving how little good effect he had found by his
liberality and indulgence, he would needs try the
He began
other extreme, which was not his talent.
to infringe the articles of his charter, to recall or
disown the promises he had made, and to repulse
petitioners with rough treatment, which was the more
unacceptable by being new and unexpected.
1137. Meantime the earl of Anjou, who was not
in a condition to assert his wife's title to England,
hearing Stephen was employed at home, entered
Normandy with small force, and found it no difficult
matter to seize several towns. The Normans, in the
present distraction of affairs not well knowing what
prince to obey, at last sent an invitation to Theobald
earl of Blois, king Stephen's eldest brother, to ac-
cept their dukedom upon the condition of protecting
them from the present insults of the earl of Anjou.
But before this matter could come to an issue,
Stephen, who upon reduction of the towns al-
ready mentioned had found a short interval of quiet
from his English subjects, arrived with unexpected
speed in Normandy, where Geoffry of Anjou soon
fled before him, and the whole duchy came over to
his obedience, for the farther settlement where of he
made peace with the king of France, constituted his
son Eustace duke of Normandy, and made him
swear fealty to that prince and do him homage. His
brother Theobald, who began to expostulate upon
this disappointment, he pacified with a pension of
2000 marks; and even the earl of Anjou himself,
The mark of Normandy is to be understood here. Such a
pension in that age was equivalent to one of 31,000l. sterling in
the present.
STEPHEN.
551
who in right of his wife made demands of Stephen
for the kingdom of England, finding he was no equal
match at present, was persuaded to become his pen-
sioner for 5000 more.ª
Stephen upon his return to England met with an
account of new troubles from the north, for the king
of Scots, under pretence of observing his oath of
fealty to the empress, infested the borders, and fre-
quently making cruel inroads plundered and laid
waste all before him.
1138. In order to revenge this base and perfidious
treatment the king in his march northward sat down
before Bedford, and took it after a siege of twenty
days. This town was part of the earldom of Hunt-
ington, given by Stephen in the late peace to the
eldest son of the Scottish king, for which the young
prince did homage to him; and it was upon that
account defended by a garrison of Scots. Upon in-
telligence of this surrender king David, overcome
with fury, entered Northumberland, where, letting
loose the rage of his soldiers, he permitted and en-
couraged them to commit all manner of inhumanities,
which they performed in so execrable a manner as
would scarce be credible if it were not attested by
almost the universal consent of writers: they ripped
up women with child, drew out the infants, and
tossed them upon the points of their lances; they
murdered priests before the altars; then, cutting the
heads from off the crucifixes, in their stead put on
the heads of those they had murdered; with many
other instances of monstrous barbarity too foul to
relate but cruelty being usually attended with
cowardice, this perfidious prince upon the approach
of king Stephen fled into places of security. The
king of England, finding no enemy on whom to
employ his revenge, marched forward into the coun-
try, destroying with fire and sword all the southern
parts; and would in all probability have made terri-
ble impressions into the heart of Scotland if he had
not been suddenly recalled by a more dangerous fire
at home, which had been kindled in his absence
and was now broken out into a flame.
Robert earl of Gloucester, natural son of the late
king, came into England some time after the advance-
ment of Stephen to the crown; and, yielding to the
necessity of the time, took the oath of fealty upon
the same condition used by the other nobles, to be
of force so long as the king should keep his faith
with him and preserve his dignity inviolate; but,
being in his heart wholly devoted to the interests of
the empress his sister, and moved by the persuasions
of several religious men, he had with great secrecy and
application so far practised upon the levity or dis-
content of several lords as to gain them to his party,
for the king had of late very much alienated the
nobles against him; first, by seizing several of their
persons and dispossessing them of their lands; and
secondly, by taking into his favour William d'Ypres,
a Flemish commander of noble birth, but banished
by his prince. This man, with many of his followers,
the king employed chiefly both in his councils and
his armies, and made him earl of Kent, to the great
envy and displeasure of his English subjects. The
earl of Gloucester therefore, and his accomplices,
having prepared all things necessary for an insurrec-
tion, it was agreed among them that while the king
was engaged against the Scots each of them should
secure what towns and castles they could and openly
declare for the empress. Accordingly, earl Robert
suddenly fortified himself in Bristol; the rest fol-
lowed his example: Hereford, Shrewsbury, Ludlow,
b Five thousand marks of silver coin was, in this reign, of
the same value as the sum of 77,5001. modern currency is now.
Here again the Normanic mark seems to be used.
|
|
Dover, and many other places were seized by several
lords; and the defection grew so formidable that the
king, to his great grief, was forced to leave his
Scottish expedition unfinished, and return with all
possible speed to suppress the rebellion begun by his
subjects, having first left the care of the north to
Thurstan archbishop of York, with orders carefully
to observe the motions of the Scots.
Whilst the king was employed in the south in re-
ducing his discontented lords and their castles to
his obedience, David, presuming upon the distance
between them, re-entered England with more nu-
merous forces and greater designs than before; for,
without losing more time than what was necessary
to pillage and destroy the country as he marched, he
resolved to besiege York; which, if he could force
to surrender, would serve as a convenient frontier
against the English. To this end, advancing near
the city and having pitched his tents, he sat down
before it with his whole army. In the mean time
archbishop Thurstan, having already summoned the
nobles and gentry of the shire and parts adjacent,
had, by powerful persuasions, incited them to de-
fend their country against a treacherous, bloody, and
restless enemy; so that before the king of Scotland
could make any progress in the siege the whole
power of the north was united against him under
the earl of Albemarle and several other nobles.
Archbishop Thurstan happening to fall sick could
not go in person to the army, but sent the bishop of
Durham in his stead; by whose encouragements the
English, although in number far inferior, advanced
boldly toward the enemy and offered them battle,
which was as readily accepted by the Scots, who,
sending out a party of horse to secure the rising
ground, were immediately attacked by the English,
and after a sharp dispute entirely defeated.
heat of the battle the king of Scots, and his son
Henry earl of Huntington, gave many proofs of
great personal valour. The young prince fell with
such fierceness upon a body of the English that he
utterly broke and dispersed them, and was pursuing
his victory when a certain man, bearing aloft the
head of an enemy he had cut off, cried out it was
the head of the Scottish king; which being heard
and believed on both sides, the English, who had
lately fled, rallied again, assaulting their enemies
with new vigour; the Scots on the other side, dis-
couraged by the supposed death of their prince, be-
gan to turn their backs: the king and his son used
all endeavours to stop their flight, and made several
brave stands against the enemy; but the great-
est part of their army being fled, and themselves
almost encompassed, they were forced to give way
to fortune, and with much difficulty made their
escape.
In the
The loss of the English side was inconsiderable;
but of Scots, by general consent of writers, 10,000
were slain. And thus ended the War of the Stand-
ard, as it was usually called by the authors of that
age because the English upon a certain engine
raised the mast of a ship, on the top whereof in a
silver box they put the consecrated wafer and fasten-
ed the standards of St. Peter and other saints; this
gave them courage, by remembering they were to
fight in the presence of God, and served likewise
for a mark where to reassemble when they should
happen to be dispersed by any accident or mis-
fortune.
1139. Meantime the king was equally successful
against his rebellious lords at home, having taken
most of their castles and strongholds; and the earl
of Gloucester himself, no longer able to make any
resistance, withdrew into Normandy, to concert new
552
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
measures with the empress his sister. Thus the king
had leisure and opportunity for another expedition
into Scotland, to pursue and improve his victory,
where he met with no opposition: however, he was
at length persuaded with much difficulty to accept
his own conditions of a peace, and David delivered
up to him his eldest son Henry as hostage for per-
formance of articles between them.
The king in his return homeward laid siege to
Ludlow Castle, which had not been reduced with
the rest: here prince Henry of Scotland, boiling
with youth and valour, and exposing his person
upon all occasions, was lifted from his horse by an
iron grapple let down from the wall, and would have
been hoisted up into the castle if the king had not
immediately flown to his assistance and brought
him off with his own hands by main force from the
enemy, whom he soon compelled to surrender the
castle.
|
It may perhaps not be thought a digression to say
something of the fortunes of this prelate, who from
the lowest beginnings came to be without dispute
the greatest churchman of any subject in his age. It
happened that the late king Henry, in the reign of
his brother, being at a village in Normandy, wanted
a priest to say mass before him and his train; when
this man, who was a poor curate thereabouts, offer-
ed his service, and performed it with so much dex-
terity and speed that the soldiers who attended the
prince recommended him to their master upon that
account as a very proper chaplain for military men.
But it seems he had other talents, for having gotten
into the prince's service he soon discovered great
application and address, much order and economy
in the management of his master's fortunes, which
were wholly left to his care. After Henry's advance-
ment to the crown this chaplain grew chief in his
favour and confidence; was made bishop of Salis-
bury, chancellor of England, employed in all his
most weighty affairs, and usually left vicegerent of
the realm while the king was absent in Normandy.
He was among the first that swore fealty to Maude
and her issue, and among the first that revolted from
her to Stephen, offering such reasons in council for
setting her aside as by the credit and opinion of his
wisdom were very prevalent. But the king in a
few years forgot all obligations, and the bishop fell a
sacrifice in his old age to those treasures he had been
so long heaping up for its support. A just reward
for his ingratitude towards the prince that raised
him, to be ruined by the ingratitude of another
whom he had been so very instrumental to raise.
But Henry bishop of Winchester, the pope's
legate, not able to endure this violation of the church,
called a council of all the prelates to meet at Win-
chester, where the king being summoned appeared
by his advocate, who pleaded his cause with much
learning; and the archbishop of Rouen, coming to
the council, declared his opinion, that, although the
canons did allow the bishops to possess castles,
yet in dangerous times they ought to deliver them
up to the king. This opinion Stephen followed
very steadily, not yielding a tittle, although the
legate, his brother, used all means both rough and
gentle to work upon him.
1140. Stephen, having thus subdued his inveterate
enemies the Scots and reduced his rebellious nobles,
began to entertain hopes of enjoying a little ease.
But he was destined to the possession of a crown with
perpetual disturbance, for he was hardly returned
from his northern expedition when he received intel-
ligence that the empress, accompanied by her brother
the earl of Gloucester, was preparing to come for
England, in order to dispute her title to the king-
dom. The king, who knew by experience what a
powerful party she already had to espouse her in-
terests, very reasonably concluded the defection from
him would be much greater when she appeared in
person to countenance and reward it; he therefore
began again to repent of the licence he had granted
for building castles, which were now likely to prove
so many places of security for his enemies and forti-
fications against himself; for he knew not whom to
trust, vehemently suspecting his nobles ever since
their last revolt. He therefore cast about for some
artifice to get into his hands as many of their castles
as he could, in the strength and magnificence of
which kind of structures the bishops had far outdone
the rest, and were upon that as well as other ac-
counts very much maligned and envied by the tem-
poral lords, who were extremely jealous of the
church's increasing power, and glad upon all occa-
sions to see the prelates humbled. The king, there-
fore, having formed his project, resolved to make
trial where it would be least invidious, and where he
could foresee least danger in the consequences. At
a parliament or assembly of nobles at Oxford it was
contrived to raise a quarrel between the servants of
some bishops and those of Alan count of Dinan in
Bretagne, upon a contention of rooms in their inns.
Stephen took hold of this advantage, sent for the
bishops, taxed them with breaking his peace, and
demanded the keys of their castles, adding threats of
imprisonment if they dared to disobey. Those
whom the king chiefly suspected, or rather who had
built the most and strongest castles, were Roger
bishop of Salisbury, with his nephew and natural
son the bishops of Ely and Lincoln, whom the king
by many circumstances of rigour compelled to sur-the empress's arrival, being a thing he had always
render, going himself in person to seize the Devizes,
then esteemed the noblest structure of Europe, and
built by the forementioned bishop Roger, whose
treasure to the value of 40,000 marks, there likewise
deposited, fell at the same time into the king's hand,
which in a few days broke the bishop's heart, already
worn with age and infirmity.
ณ
This prelate's treasure is doubtless computed by the smaller
or Saxon mark, the use of which still prevailed in England;
and, even thus computed, it amounts to a vast sum, equal to
about 116,3501. of modern money.
The council of bishops broke up without other
effect than that of leaving in their minds an implaca-
ble hatred to the king in a very opportune juncture
for the interest of Maude, who about this time land-
ed at Portsmouth with her brother Robert earl of
Gloucester. The whole force she brought over for
this expedition consisted but of 140 knights; for she
trusted altogether in her cause and her friends.
With this slender attendance she went to Arundel
and was there received into the castle by the widow
of the late king; while earl Robert, accompanied
only by twenty men, marched boldly to his own city
of Gloucester, in order to raise forces for the em-
press, where the townsmen turned out the king's
garrison as soon as they heard of his approach.
King Stephen was not surprised at the news of
counted upon, and was long preparing himself
against. He was glad to hear how ill she was pro-
vided, and resolved to use the opportunity of her
brother's absence; for hasting down to Arundel with
a sufficient strength he laid siege to the castle, in
hopes by securing her person to put a speedy end to
the war.
But there wanted not some very near about the
king who, favouring the party of Maude, had credit
enough to prevail with him not to venture time and
reputation against an impregnable fortress, but
STEPHEN.
553
rather by withdrawing his forces permit her to re- defeat and imprisonment, reduced without any dif-
tire to some less fortified place, where she might ficulty the whole duchy of Normandy to his obedience.
more easily fall into his hands. This advice the The legate himself, although brother to king
king took against his own opinion; the empress fled Stephen, received her at Winchester with great so-
out of Arundel by night, and after frequent shifting lemnity, accepted her oath for governing with
her stages through several towns, which had already justice, redressing grievances, and supporting the
declared in her favour, fixed herself at last at Lin-rights of the church, and took the old conditional
coln, where having all things provided necessary for
her defence she resolved to continue, and expect
either a general revolt of the English to her side or
the decision of war between the king and her
brother.
1141. But Stephen, who had pursued the empress
from place to place, hearing she had shut herself up
in Lincoln, resolved to give her no rest; and to help
on his design it fell out that the citizens, in hatred
to the earl of Chester, who commanded there for
the empress, sent a private invitation to the king,
with promise to deliver the town and their governor
into his hands. The king came accordingly and
possessed himself of the town, but Maude and the
earl made their escape a few days before. However
many great persons of Maude's party remained pri-
soners to the king, and among the rest the earl of
Chester's wife, who was daughter to the earl of Glou-
cester. These two earls resolving to attempt the
relief of their friends marched with all their forces
near Lincoln, where they found the enemy drawn
up and ready to receive them. The next morning,
after battle offered by the lords and accepted by the
king, both sides made ready to engage. The king,
having disposed his cavalry on each wing, placed
himself at the head of his foot, in whom he reposed
most confidence. The army of the lords was divided
in three bodies; those whom king Stephen had
banished were placed in the middle, the earl of
Chester led the van, and the earl of Gloucester com-
manded the rear. The battle was fought at first
with equal advantage and great obstinacy on both
sides; at length the right wing of the king's horse,
pressed by the earl of Chester, galloped away, not
without suspicion of treachery; the left followed the
example. The king beheld their flight, and encou-
raging those about him fell with undaunted valour
upon the enemy, and being for some time bravely
seconded by his foot did great execution. At length,
overpowered by numbers, his men began to disperse,
and Stephen was left almost alone with his sword
in his hand, wherewith he opposed his person against
a whole victorious army, nor durst any be so hardy
to approach him: the sword breaking, a citizen of
Lincoln put into his hands a Danish battle-axe, with
which he struck to the ground the earl of Chester,a
who presumed to come within his reach. But this
weapon likewise flying in pieces with the force of
those furious blows he dealt on all sides, a bold
knight of the empress's party named William de
Keynes laid hold on his helmet, and immediately
cried out to his fellows, "I have got the king!"
Then the rest ran in and he was taken prisoner.
The king being thus secured was presented to the
empress, then at Gloucester, and by her orders con-
veyed to Bristol, where he continued in strict cus-
tody nine months, although with honourable treat-
ment for some time, until either upon endeavour-
ing to make his escape or in malice to the London-
ers, who had a great affection for their king, he was
by express command from the empress laid in irons
and used with other circumstances of severity.
one of fealty to her; then, in an assembly of
bishops and clergy convoked for the purpose, he
displayed the miscarriages of his brother and de-
clared his approbation of the empress to be queen;
to which they unanimously agreed. To complete
all he prevailed by his credit with the Londoners,
who stood out the last of any, to acknowledge and
receive her into the city, where she arrived at length
in great pomp and with general satisfaction.
But it was the misfortune of this princess to pos-
sess many weaknesses that are charged to the sex,
and very few of its commendable qualities: she was
now in peaceable possession of the whole kingdom,
except the county of Kent, where William d'Ypres
pretended to keep up a small party for the king;
when by her pride, wilfulness, indiscretion, and a dis-
obliging behaviour, she soon turned the hearts of
all men against her, and in a short time lost the
fruits of that victory and success which had been so
hardly gained by the prudence and valour of her
excellent brother. The first occasion she took to
discover the perverseness of her nature was in the
treatment of Maude, the wife of king Stephen, a
lady of great virtue and courage above her sex; who,
coming to the empress an humble suitor in behalf
of her husband, offered, as a price of his liberty, that
he should resign all pretensions to the crown, and
pass the rest of his life in exile or in a convent.
But this request was rejected with scorn and re-
proaches; and the queen finding all entreaties to
no purpose writ to her son Eustace to let him un-
derstand the ill success of her negotiation, that no
relief was to be otherwise hoped for than by arms;
and therefore advised him to raise immediately what
forces he could for the relief of his father.
Her next miscarriage was towards the Londoners,
who presented her a petition for redressing certain
rigorous laws of her father and restoring those of
Edward the Confessor. The empress put them off
for a time with excuses, but at last discovered some
displeasure at their importunity. The citizens, who
had with much difficulty been persuaded to receive
her against their inclinations, which stood wholly
for the king, were moved with indignation at her
unreasonable refusal of their just demands, and en-
tered into a conspiracy to seize her person. But she
had timely notice of their design, and leaving the
city by night in disguise fled to Oxford.
A third false step the empress made was in refus-
ing her new powerful friend the legate a favour he
desired in behalf of Eustace, the king's son, to grant
him the lands and honours held by his father before
he came to the crown. She had made large promises
to this prelate that she would be directed in all
things by his advice; and to be refused upon his first
application a small favour for his own nephew stung
him to the quick; however, he governed his resent-
ments a while, but began at the same time to re-
sume his affection for his brother. These thoughts
were cultivated with great address by queen Maude,
who prevailed at last so far upon the legate that pri-
vate measures were agreed between them for restor-
The bishop
This victory was followed by a general defectioning Stephen to his liberty and crown.
of almost the whole kingdom; and the earl of Anjou,
husband to the empress, upon the fame of the king's
The earl of Chester lived nevertheless to ight other battles,
and died twelve years after by poison.
took leave of the empress upon some plausible pre-
tence and retired to Winchester, where he gave
directions for supplying with men and provision
several strong castles he had built in his diocese,
554
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
while the queen, with her son Eustace, prevailed
with the Londoners and men of Kent to rise in great
numbers for the king; and a powerful army was
quickly on foot under the command of William
d'Ypres earl of Kent.
In the mean time the empress began to be sen-
sible of the errors she had committed; and in hope
either to retrieve the friendship of the legate or
take him prisoner, marched with her army to Win-
chester, where being received and lodged in the
castle she sent immediately for the legate, spoke
much in excuse of what was past, and used all en-
deavours to regain him to her interests. Bishop
Henry, on the other side, amused her with dubious
answers, and kept her in suspense for some days;
but sent privately at the same time to the king's
army, desiring them to advance with all possible
speed, which was executed with so much diligence
that the empress and her brother had only time with
their troops to march a back way out of the town.
They were pursued by the enemy so close in the
rear that the empress had hardly time, by counter-
feiting herself dead, to make her escape; in which
posture she was carried as a corpse to Gloucester;
but the earl her brother, while he made what oppo-
sition he could with design to stop her pursuers,
was himself taken prisoner, with great slaughter of
his men.
After the battle the earl was in his turn
presented to queen Maude, and by her command
sent to Rochester to be treated in the same manner
with the king.
Thus the heads of both parties were each in the
power of his enemy, and Fortune seemed to have
dealt with great equality between them. Two fac-
tions divided the whole kingdom, and, as it usually
happens, private animosities were inflamed by the
quarrel of the public; which introduced a miserable
face of things throughout the land, whereof the writers
of our English story give melancholy descriptions,
not to be repeated in this history; since the usual
effects of civil war are obvious to conceive and tiresome
as well as useless to relate. However, as the quarrel
between the king and empress was grounded upon
a cause that in its own nature little concerned the
interests of the people, this was thought a conve-
nient juncture for transacting a peace, to which
there appeared a universal disposition. Several ex-
pedients were proposed; but earl Robert would con-
sent upon no other terms than the deposing of Ste-
phen and immediate delivery of the crown to his
sister. These debates lasted for some months, until
the two prisoners, weary of their long constraint, by
mutual consent were exchanged for each other, and
all thoughts of agreement laid aside.
The king, upon recovery of his freedom, hastened
to London to get supplies of men and money for
renewing the war. He there found that his brother
of Winchester had, in a council of bishops and
abbots, renounced all obedience to the empress, and
persuaded the assembly to follow his example. The
legate, in excuse for this proceeding, loaded her with
infamy, produced several instances wherein she had
broken the oath she took when he received her as
queen, and upon which his obedience was grounded;
and said he had received information that she had
a design upon his life.
It must be confessed that oaths of fealty in this
prince's reign were feeble ties for binding the sub-
ject to any reasonable degree of obedience; and
the warmest advocates for liberty cannot but allow,
from those examples here produced, that it is very
possible for people to run upon great extremes in
this matter; that a monarch may be too much
limited, and a subject too little; whereof the conse-
|
|
quences have been fully as pernicious for the time
as the worst that can be apprehended from arbitrary
power in all its heights, although not perhaps so
lasting or so hard to be remedied; since all the
miseries of this kingdom during the period we are
treating of were manifestly owing to that continual
violation of such oaths of allegiance as appear to
have been contrived on purpose by ambitious men
to be broken at pleasure, without the least appre-
hension of perjury, and in the mean time keep the
prince in a continual slavish dependence.
The earl of Gloucester soon after his release went
over into Normandy, where he found the earl of
Anjou employed in completing the conquest of that
duchy; there he delivered him the sons of several
English noblemen to be kept as hostages for their
fathers' fidelity to the empress, and used many
arguments for persuading him to come over in per-
son with an army to her assistance; but Geoffry
excused himself by the importance of other affairs,
and the danger of exposing the dominions he had
newly acquired to rebellions in his absence. How-
ever, he lent the earl of Gloucester a supply of
400 men, and sent along with him his eldest son
Henry to comfort his mother and be shown to the
people.
During the short absence of the earl of Gloucester
the empress was closely besieged in Oxford by the
king; and provision beginning to fail she was in
cruel apprehensions of falling into his hands. This
gave her occasion to put in practice the only talent
wherein she seemed to excel, which was that of con-
triving some little shift or expedient to secure her
person upon any sudden emergency. A long season
of frost had made the Thames passable upon the ice,
and much snow lay on the ground: Maude, with
some few attendants, clad all in white to avoid being
discovered from the king's camp, crossed the river
at midnight on foot, and travelling all night, got safe
to Wallingford-castle, where her brother and young
son Henry, newly returned from France, arrived
soon after, to her great satisfaction; but Oxford, im-
mediately upon the news of her flight, surrendered
to the king.
However, this disgrace was fully compensated
soon after by another of the same kind which hap-
pened to king Stephen; for while he and his brother
of Winchester were fortifying a nunnery at Wilton,
to bridle his enemies at Salisbury, who very much.
harassed those parts by their frequent excursions,
the earl of Gloucester, who watched all opportunities,
came unaware with a strong body of men, and set
fire to the nunnery while the king himself was in it.
Stephen, upon the sudden surprise of the thing,
wholly lost or forgot his usual courage, and fled
shamefully away, leaving his soldiers to be cut in
pieces by the earl.
During the rest of the war, although it lasted nine
years longer, there is little memorable recorded by
any writer; whether the parties, being pretty equal
and both sufficiently tired with so long a contention,
wanted vigour and spirit to make a thorough con-
quest, and only endeavoured to keep what they had,
or whether the multitude of strong castles, whose
numbers daily increased, made it very difficult to
end a war between two contending powers almost in
balance; let the cause be what it will, the whole
time passed in mutual sieges, surprises, revolts, sur-
renders of fortified places, without any decisive action
or other event of importance to be related.
which at length the very genius of the people be-
came wholly bent upon a life of spoil, robbery, and
plunder; many of the nobles, although pretending
to hold their castles for the king or the empress,
By
STEPHEN.
555
lived like petty independent princes in a perpetual
state of war against their neighbours; the fields lay
uncultivated, all the arts of civil life were banished,
no veneration left for sacred persons or things; in
short, no law, truth, or religion among men, but a
scene of universal misery, attended with all the con-
sequences of an embroiled and distracted state.
About the eleventh year of the king's reign young
Henry, now growing toward a man, was sent for to
France by a message from his father, who was de-
sirous to see him, but left a considerable party in
England to adhere to his interests; and in a short
time after (as some write) the empress herself, grown
weary of contending any longer in a cause where she
had met with nothing but misfortunes of her own
procuring, left the kingdom likewise and retired to
her husband. Nor was this the only good fortune
that befel Stephen; for before the year ended the
main prop and pillar of his enemies was taken away
by death this was Robert earl of Gloucester, than
whom there have been few private persons known
in the world that deserve a fairer place and character
in the registers of time for his inviolable faith, dis-
interested friendship, indefatigable zeal, firm con-
stancy to the cause he espoused, and unparalleled
generosity in the conduct thereof: he adhered to his
sister in all her fortunes, to the ruin of his own;
he placed a crown upon her head; and when she
had lost it by her folly and perverseness refused the
greatest offers from a victorious enemy who had him.
in his power, and chose to continue a prisoner rather
than recover his liberty by any hazard to her pre-
tensions: he bore up her sinking title in spite of her
own frequent miscarriages, and at last died in her
cause, by a fever contracted with perpetual toils for
her service. An example fit to be shown the world,
although few perhaps are likely to follow it; but
however, a small tribute of praise justly due to ex-
traordinary virtue may prove no ill expedient to en-
courage imitation.
Be-
But the death of this lord, together with the ab-
sence of the empress and her son in France, added
very little to the quiet or security of the king. For
the earl of Gloucester, suspecting the fidelity of the
lords, had, with great sagacity, delivered their sons
to the earl of Anjou, to be kept as pledges for their
fathers' fidelity, as we have before related; by which
means a powerful party was still kept up against
Stephen, too strong to be suddenly broken.
sides, he had by an unusual strain of his conduct
lately lost much good will, as well as reputation, in
committing an act of violence and fraud on the per-
son of the earl of Chester, a principal adherent of
the empress. This nobleman, of great power and
possessions, had newly reconciled himself to Stephen,
and came to his court at Northampton, where, against
all laws of hospitality as well as common faith and
justice, he was committed to prison, and forced to
buy his liberty with the surrender of Lincoln and
all his other places into the king's hands.
Affairs continued in this turbulent posture about
two years, the nobles neither trusting the king nor
each other. The number of castles still increased,
which every man who had any possessions
1149.
was forced to build or else become a prey to
his powerful neighbours. This was thought a con-
venient juncture by the empress and her friends for
sending young prince Henry to try his fortune in
England, where he landed at the head of a consider-
able number of horse and foot, although he was then
but sixteen years old. Immediately after his arrival
he went to Carlisle, where he met his cousin David
king of Scots, by whom he was made a knight after
the usual custom of young princes and noblemen in
that age.
The king of England, who had soon in-
telligence of Henry's landing and motions, marched
down to secure York, against which he expected the
first attempt of his enemy was designed. But, what-
ever the cause might be (wherein the writers of
those ages are either silent or unsatisfactory), both
armies remained at that secure distance for
1150.
three months; after which Henry returned
back to Normandy, leaving the kingdom in the state
of confusion he found it at his coming.
The fortunes of this young prince, Henry Fitzem-
press, now began to advance by great and sudden
steps, whereof it will be no digression to inform the
reader, as well upon the connexion they have with
the affairs at home about this time, as because they
concern the immediate successor to the crown.
1151. Prince Henry's voyage to France was
soon followed by the death of his father Geoffry
earl of Anjou, whereby the son became pos- 1152.
sessed of that earldom together with the
duchy of Normandy; but in a short time after he
very much enlarged his dominions by a marriage,
in which he consulted his reputation less than his
advantage. For Lewis the Young, king of France,
was lately divorced from his wife Eleanor, who, as
the French writers relate, bore a great contempt.
and hatred to her husband and had long desired
such a separation. Other authors give her not so
fair a character; but whatever might be the real
cause, the pretext was consanguinity in the fourth
degree. Henry was content to accept this lady with
all her faults, and in her right became duke of Aqui-
tain and earl of Poitou, very considerable provinces
added to his other dominions.
The
But the two kings of France and England began
to apprehend much danger from the sudden great-
ness of a young ambitious prince; and their interests
were jointly concerned to check his growth. Duke
Henry was now ready to sail for England in a con-
dition to assert his title upon more equal terms ;
when the king of France, in conjunction with Eus-
tace king Stephen's son, and Geoffry the duke's
own brother, suddenly entered into his dominions
with a mighty army, took the castle of Neumarché
by storm and laid siege to that of Angers.
duke, by this incident, was forced to lay aside his
thoughts of England, and marching boldly toward
the enemy resolved to relieve the besieged; but
finding they had already taken the castle, he thought
it best to make a diversion by carrying the war into
the enemy's country; where he left all to the mercy
of his soldiers, surprised and burnt several castles,
and made great devastations wherever he came. This
proceeding answered the end for which it was de-
signed; the king of France thought he had already
done enough for his honour, and began to grow
weary of a ruinous war which was likely to be pro-
tracted. The conditions of a peace, by the inter-
vention of some religious men, were soon agreed.
The duke, after some time spent in settling his
affairs and preparing all things necessary for his in-
tended expedition, set sail for England, where he
landed the same year in the depth of winter with
140 knights and 3000 foot.
Some time before Henry landed, the king had
conceived a project to disappoint his designs by
confirming the crown upon himself and his own
posterity. He sent for the archbishop of Canter-
bury with several other prelates, and proposed that
his son Eustace should be crowned king with all the
usual solemnity; but the bishops absolutely refused
to perform the office by express orders from the
pope, who was enemy to Stephen, partly upon ac-
count of his unjust or declining cause, but chiefly
556
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
for his strict alliance with the king of France, who
was then engaged in a quarrel against that see, upon
a very tender point relating to the revenues of vacant
churches. The king and his son were both enraged
at the bishops' refusal, and kept them prisoners in
the chamber where they assembled, with many
threats to force them to a compliance, and some
other circumstances of rigour; but all to no purpose,
so that he was at length forced to desist. But the
archbishop, to avoid further vexation, fled the realm.
This contrivance of crowning the son during the
life and reign of the father, which appears so absurd
in speculation, was actually performed in the suc-
ceeding reign, and seems to have been taken up by
those two princes of French birth and extraction, in
imitation of the like practice in their native country,
where it was usual for kings grown old and infirm,
or swayed by paternal indulgence, to receive their
eldest son into a share of the administration with
the title of king; a custom borrowed, no doubt,
from the later emperors of Rome, who adopted their
Cæsars after the like manner.
1153. The king was employed in his usual exer-
cise of besieging castles when the news was brought
of Henry's arrival. He left the work he was about
and marched directly against the duke, who was
then set down before Malmesbury. But Stephen
forced him to raise the siege and immediately offered
him battle. The duke, although his army was much
increased by continual revolts, thought it best to
gain time, being still in number far inferior to the
king, and therefore kept himself strongly intrenched.
There is some difference among writers about the
particulars of this war: however, it is generally
agreed that, in a short time after, the two armies
mct and were prepared for battle, when the nobles
on both sides, either dreading the consequences or
weary of a tedious war, prevailed with the king and
duke to agree to a truce for some days in order to a
peace; which was violently opposed by Eustace the
king's son, a youth of great spirit and courage, be-
cause he knew very well it could not be built but
upon the ruin of his interests: and therefore,
finding he could not prevail, he left the army in a
rage, and attended by some followers endeavoured
to satiate his fury by destroying the country in his
march: but in a few days, as he sat at dinner in a
castle of his own, he fell suddenly dead, either
through grief, madness, or poison.
The truce was now expired and the duke began
to renew the war with fresh vigour, but the king
was wholly dispirited upon this fatal accident and now
first began to entertain real thoughts of a peace. He
had lost a son whom he dearly loved, and with him
he likewise lost the alliance of the French king, to
whose sister the young prince was married. He
had indeed another son left, but little esteemed by
the nobles and people, nor as it appears much re-
garded by his father. He was now in the decline
of his age, decayed in his health, forsaken by his
friends, who, since the death of Eustace, fell daily
fell daily
from him; and having no further care at heart for
his posterity, he thought it high time to seek repose
for his person.
The nobles soon observed this dis-
position in their king, which was so agreeable to
their own; therefore, by general consent, Theobald
archbishop of Canterbury was appointed mediator
between both princes. All matters were soon
agreed; an assembly of lords was convened at Win-
chester, where the king received the duke with great
marks of courtesy and kindness. There the peace
was confirmed by the king's charter, wherein are
expressed the terms of agreement. But I shall re-
late only the principal.
The king by this charter acknowledged Henry for
lawful successor to the crown, in which capacity
all the nobles paid him homage, and Henry him-
self with his party paid homage to Stephen. There
is likewise a reservation for William, the king's
son, of all the honours possessed by his father before
he came to the crown. The king likewise acknow..
ledges the obedience of his subjects to be no longer
due to him than he shall observe the conditions of
this charter. And for the performance of these ar-
ticles the archbishops and bishops were appointed
guarantees. There were some other articles agreed
on which are not mentioned in the charter; as a
general pardon; a restitution, to the right owners,
of those lands and possessions which had been
usurped in the time of the troubles; that all castles
built during the war should be razed to the ground,
which are said to have been above 1100; that the
rights of the church should be preserved; with other
matters of less moment.
Thus, by the prudence of archbishop Theobald,
the moderation of the two princes engaged, and the
universal inclination of the people, a happy period
was put to this tedious and troublesome war: men
began to have the prospect of a long peace; nor was
it easy to foresee what could possibly arise to disturb
it, when discovery was made by accident of a most
horrible piece of treachery which, if it had met with
success, would have once more set the whole nation
in a flame. The duke, after the peace, attended
the king to London, to be shown to the people as the
undoubted successor to the crown; and having made
a progress together through some other parts of the
kingdom, they came to Canterbury, where Henry
received private notice of a design upon his life. It
has been already observed that the king employed
in his wars a body of Flemings, to the great discon-
tent of his own subjects, with whom they were very
ungracious. These foreigners were much discon-
tented at the peace, whereby they were likely to be-
come useless and burdensome to the present king
and hateful to the successor. To prevent which, the
commanders among them began to practise upon
the levity and ambition of William the king's son.
They urged the indignity he had received in being
deprived of his birthright; offered to support his
title by their valour, as they had done that of his
father; and as an earnest of their intentions, to re-
move the chief impediment by despatching his rival
out of the world. The young prince was easily
wrought upon to be at the head of this conspiracy:
time and place were fixed; when, upon the day ap-
pointed, William broke his leg by a fall from his
horse, and the conspirators wanting their leader im-
mediately dispersed. This disappointment and de-
lay, as it usually happens among conspirators, were
soon followed by a discovery of the whole plot;
whereof the duke, with great discretion, made no
other use than to consult his own safety; there-
fore, without any show of suspicion or displea-
sure, he took leave of the king and returned to
Normandy.
1154. Stephen lived not above a year to share the
happiness of this peace with his people; in which
time he made a progress through most parts of the
kingdom, where he gained universal love and vene-
ration by a most affable and courteous behaviour to
all men.
A few months after his return he went to
Dover to have an interview with the earl of Flan-
ders; where after a short sickness he died of the
iliac passion, together with his old distemper the
hemorrhoids, upon the 25th of October, in the forty-
ninth year of his age and the nineteenth of his
reign
STEPHEN.
557
He was a prince of wonderful endowments, both
in body and mind: in his person tall and graceful,
of great strength as well as vigour: he had a large
portion of most virtues that can be useful in a king
toward the happiness of his subjects or himself;
courtesy and valour, liberality and clemency, in an
eminent degree; especially the last, which he carried
to an extreme, though very pardonable, yet hardly
consisting with prudence or his own safety. If we
except his usurpation of the crown, he must be al-
lowed a prince of great justice; which most writers
affirm to have been always unblemished, except in
that single instance: for, as to his treatment of the
bishops and the earl of Chester, it seems very ex-
cusable by the necessity of the time; and it was the
general opinion, if he had not used that proceeding
with the latter, it would have cost him his crown.
Perhaps his injustice to the empress might likewise
admit a little extenuation. Four kings successively
had sat on the throne without any regard to lineal
descent-a period beyond the memory of most men
then alive; whereby the people had lost much of
that devotion they were used to bear toward an
established succession: besides, the government of
a woman was then a thing unknown, and for that
reason disliked by all who professed to hate innova-
tions.
But the wisdom of this prince was by no means
equal to the rest of his virtues. He came to the
crown upon as fair a title as his predecessor, being
elected by the general consent of the nobles, through
the credit of his brother and his own personal
merit. He had no disturbance for some time, which
he might easily have employed in settling the king-
dom and acquiring the love of his people. He had
treasure enough to raise and pay armies without
burdening the subject. His competitor was a
woman, whose sex was the least of her infirmities,
and with whom he had already compounded for his
quiet by a considerable pension: yet with all these
advantages he seldom was master of above half the
kingdom at once, and that by the force of perpetual
struggling, and with frequent danger of losing the
whole. The principal difficulties he had to en-
counter appear to have been manifest consequences
of several most imprudent steps in his conduct,
whereof many instances have been produced in the
history of his reign; such as the unlimited permis-
sion of building castles; his raising the siege of a
weak place where the empress was shut up, and
must in a few days have fallen into his hands; his
employing the Flemings in his wars, and favouring
them above his own subjects; and lastly, that abor-
tive project of crowning his son, which procured him
at once the hatred and contempt of the clergy, by
discovering an inclination to violence and injustice
that he durst not pursue: whereas it was nothing
else but an effect of that hasty and sudden disposi-
tion usually ascribed to those of his country, and in
a peculiar manner charged to this prince: for
authors give it as a part of his character to be hot
and violent in the beginning of an enterprise, but to
slacken and grow cold in the prosecution.
He had a just sense of religion, and was frequent
in attending the service of the church, yet reported
to be no great friend of the clergy; which, however,
is a general imputation upon all the kings of this
realm in that and some succeeding reigns, and by no
means personal to this prince, who deserved it as
little as any.
I do not find any alterations during this reign in
the meetings of general assemblies, further than that
the commons do not seem to have been represented
in any of them; for which I can assign no other
reason than the will of the king or the disturbance
of the time. I observed the word parliament is
used promiscuously among authors for a general
assembly of nobles, and for a council of bishops, or
synod of the clergy; which renders this matter too
perplexed to ascertain anything about it.
As for affairs of the church that deserve particu-
lar mention, I have not met with any; unless it
should be worth relating that Henry bishop of
Winchester, the pope's legate, who held frequent
synods during this reign, was the first introducer of
appeals to Rome in this kingdom; for which he is
blamed by all the monkish historians who give us
the account.
THE REIGN OF HENRY THE SECOND.
A FRAGMENT.
1154. THE spirit of war and contention which
had for a long time possessed the nation became
so effectually laid during the last year of king Ste-
phen's reign, that no alteration or disturbance
ensued upon his death, although the new king after
he had received intelligence of it was detained six
weeks by contrary winds: besides the opinion of this
prince's power and virtues had already begotten so
great an awe and reverence for him among the peo-
ple, that upon his arrival he found the whole king-
dom in a profound peace. He landed at Hostreham
about the beginning of December, was received at
Winchester by a great number of the nobility, who
came there to attend and swear fealty to him, and
three weeks after was crowned at Westminster,
about the twenty-third year of his age.
For the further settling of the kingdom, after the
long distractions in the preceding reign, he seized on
all the castles which remained undestroyed since the
last peace between him and king Stephen; whereof
some he demolished, and trusted others to the
government of persons in whom he could confide.
But that which most contributed to the quiet of
the realm and the general satisfaction of his subjects
was a proclamation published, commanding all
foreigners to leave England; enforced with a most
effectual clause whereby a day was fixed after which
it should be capital for any of them to appear:
among these was William d'Ypres earl of Kent,
whose possessions the king seized into his own
hands.
These foreigners, generally called Flemings by the
writers of the English story, were a sort of vaga-
bond soldiers of fortune, who in those ages, under
several denominations, infested other parts of
Europe as well as England: they were a mixed
people, natives of Arragon, Navarre, Biscay, Bra-
bant, and other parts of Spain and Flanders. They
were ready to be hired to whatever prince thought
fit to employ them; but always upon condition to
have full liberty of plunder and spoil. Nor was it
an easy matter to get rid of them when there was
no farther need of their service. In England they
were always hated by the people, and by this prince
in particular, whose continual enemies they had
been.
After the expulsion of these foreigners, and
forcing a few refractory lords to a surrender of their
castles, king Henry, like a wise prince, began to
consider that a time of settled peace was the fittest
juncture to recover the rights of the crown which
had been lost by the war. He therefore resumed
by his royal authority all crown-lands that had been
alienated by his predecessor, alleging that they
were unalienable in themselves, and besides that
the grants were void as coming from a usurper.
558
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
Whether such proceedings are agreeable with justice | natural situation, lying more out of the road of com-
I shall not examine; but certainly a prince cannot
better consult his own safety than by disabling those
whom he renders discontent, which is effectually
done no other way but by depriving them of their
possessions.
1156. While the king was thus employed at
home, intelligence came that his brother Geoffry
was endeavouring by force to possess himself of the
carldom of Anjou, to which he had fair pretensions;
for their father, considering what vast dominions
would fall to his eldest son, bequeathed that earldom
to the second in his last sickness, and commanded
his nobles then about him to take an oath that they
would not suffer his body to be buried until Henry
(who was then absent) should swear to observe his
will. The duke of Normandy, when he came to
assist at his father's obsequies, and found that with-
out his compliance he must draw upon himself the
scandal of keeping a father unburied, took the oath
that was exacted for observance of his will, though
very much against his own. But after he was in
possession of England, whether it were that his am-
bition enlarged with his dominions, or that from the
beginning he had never intended to observe what he
had sworn, he prevailed with pope Adrian (of Eng-
lish birth) to dispense with his oath; and in the
second year of his reign went over into Normandy,
drove his brother entirely out of Anjou, and forced
him to accept a pension for his maintenance. But
the young prince, through the resentment of this un-
natural dealing, in a short time died of grief.
Nor was his treatment more favourable to the
king of Scots, whom upon a slight pretence he took
occasion to dispossess of Carlisle, Newcastle, and
other places granted by the empress to that prince's
father for his services and assistance in her quarrel
against Stephen.
а
Having thus recovered whatever he had any title
to demand, he began to look out for new acquisi-
tions. Ireland was in that age a country little
known in the world. The legates sent sometimes
thither from the court of Rome for urging the pay-
ment of annats or directing other church affairs re-
presented the inhabitants as a savage people, overrun
with barbarism and superstition: for indeed no
nation of Europe where the christian religion re-
ceived so early and universal admittance was ever
so late or slow in feeling its effects upon their man-
ners and civility. Instead of refining their manners
by their faith, they had suffered their faith to be
corrupted by their manners; true religion being
almost defaced both in doctrine and discipline, after
a long course of time, among a people wholly sunk
in ignorance and barbarity. There seem to have
been two reasons why the inhabitants of that island
continued so long uncultivated; first, their subjec-
tion or vassalage to so many petty kings, whereof a
great number is mentioned by authors beside those
four or five usually assigned to the several provinces.
These princes were engaged in perpetual quarrels,
in doing or revenging injuries of violence, or lust, or
treachery, or injustice, which kept them all in a
continual state of war. And indeed there is hardly
any country how renowned soever in ancient or
modern story which may not be traced from the like
original. Neither can a nation come out from this
state of confusion until it is either reduced under
one head at home, or by force or conquest becomes
subject to a foreign administration.
The other reason why civility made such late
entrances into that island may be imputed to its
ʼn The Irish had been very learned in formor ages, but had
declined for several centuries before the reign of Henry II.
|
merce or conquest than any other part of the known
world. All the intercourse the inhabitants had was
only with the western coasts of Wales and Scotland;
from whence, at least in those ages, they were not
likely to learn very much politeness.
1155. The king, about the second year of his
reign, sent ambassadors to pope Adrian, with in-
junctions to desire his licence for reducing the
savage people of Ireland from their brutish way of
living, and subjecting them to the crown of England.
The king proceeded thus in order to set up a title
to the island, wherein the pope himself pretended
to be lord of the see; for in his letter, which is an
answer and grant to the king's requests, he insists
upon it that all islands upon their admitting the
christian faith become subject to the see of Rome;
and the Irish themselves avowed the same thing to
some of the first conquerors. In that forementioned
letter the pope highly praises the king's generous
design, and recommends to him the civilising of the
natives, the protection of the church, and the pay-
ment of Peter-pence. The ill success of all past
endeavours to procure from a people so miserable
and irreligious this revenue to the holy see was a
| main inducement with the
main inducement with the pope to be easy and
liberal in his grant; for the king professed a design
of securing its regular payment. However, this ex-
pedition was not undertaken until some years after,
when there happened an accident to set it forward,
as we shall relate in its place. *****
HEADS FOR HENRY THE SECOND'S
CHARACTER.
EXTRACTED FROM THE MONKS.
[Hard to gather his character from such bad authors.]
A WISE prince to whom other princes referred their
differences, and had ambassadors from both empires,
east and west, as well as others at once in his court.
Strong and brawny body, patient of cold and heat,
big head, broad breast, broken voice, temperate in
meat, using much exercise, just stature, forma ele-
gantissima, colore subrufo, oculis glaucis, sharp wit,
very great memory, constancy in adversity and in
felicity, except at last he yielded, because almost for-
saken by all; liberal, imposed few tributes, excellent
soldier and fortunate, wise and not unlearned. His
vices -mild and promising in adversity, fierce and
hard and a violator of faith in prosperity; covetous
to his domestics and children, although liberal to
soldiers and strangers, which turned the former from
him; loved profit more than justice; very lustful,
which likewise turned his sons and others from him.
Rosamond and the labyrinth at Woodstock. Not
very religious; mortuos milites lugens plus quam
vivos amuns, largus in publico, parcus in privato.
Constant in love and hatred, false to his word, mo-
rose, a lover of ease. Oppressor of nobles, sullen,
and a delayer of justice; verbo varius et versutus
-used churchmen well after Becket's death;
charitable to the poor, levied few taxes, hated
slaughter and cruelty. A great memory, and always
knew those he once saw.
Very indefatigable in his travels backward and
forward to Normandy, &c.; of most endless desires
to increase his dominions. *****
Cætera desiderantur.
ACCOUNT OF THE EMPIRE OF JAPAN.
559
AN ACCOUNT OF THE
COURT AND EMPIRE OF JAPAN.
By one of those cabinet intrigues, of which the real cause has
never been ascertained, because perhaps it was too trifling to
bear the public eye, Walpole maintained under George II.
even more than the power he had enjoyed from the favour of
his predecessor. To these events the following piece has em-
blematical reference.
REGOGE [king George] was the thirty-fourth em-
peror of Japan, and began his reign in the year 341
of the christian era, succeeding to Nena [queen
Aune], a princess who governed with great felicity.
There had been a revolution in that empire about
twenty-six years before which made some breaches in
the hereditary line; and Regoge, successor to Nena,
although of the royal family, was a distant relation.
There were two violent parties in the empire
which began in the time of the revolution above
mentioned, and at the death of the empress Nena
were in the highest degree of animosity, each charg-
ing the other with a design of introducing new gods
and changing the civil constitution. The names of
these two parties were Husiges and Yortes [Whigs
and Tories]. The latter were those whom Nena
the late empress most favoured toward the end of
her reign, and by whose advice she governed.
The Husige faction, enraged at their loss of power,
made private application to Regoge during the life
of the empress; which prevailed so far, that upon
her death the new emperor wholly disgraced the
Yortes, and employed only the Husiges in all his
affairs. The Japanese author highly blames his im-
perial majesty's proceeding in this affair, because it
was allowed on all hands that he had then a happy
opportunity of reconciling parties for ever by a mo-
derating scheme. But he on the contrary began his
reign by openly disgracing the principal and most
popular Yortes, some of which had been chiefly
instrumental in raising him to the throne. By this
mistaken step he occasioned a rebellion, which, al-
though it were soon quelled by some very surprising
turns of fortune, yet the fear, whether real or pre-
tended, of new attempts, engaged him in such im-
mense charges, that instead of clearing any part of
that prodigious debt left on his kingdom by the
former war, which might have been done by any
tolerable management in twelve years of the most
profound peace, he left his empire loaded with a vast
addition to the old incumbrance.
This prince before he succeeded to the empire of
Japan was king of Tedsu [Hanover], a dominion
seated on the continent, to the west side of Japan.
Tedsu was the place of his birth, and more beloved
by him than his new empire; for there he spent
some months almost every year, and thither was
supposed to have conveyed great sums of money
saved out of his imperial revenues.
There were two maritime towns of great import-
ance bordering upon Tedsu [Bremen and Lubec]:
of these he purchased a litigated title, and to support
it was forced not only to intrench deeply on his Ja-
panese revenues, but to engage in alliances [the
quadruple alliance] very dangerous to the Japanese
empire.
Japan was at that time a limited monarchy, which
some authors are of opinion was introduced there
by a detachment from the numerous army of Bren-
nus, who ravaged a great part of Asia; and those of
them who fixed in Japan left behind them that kind
of military institution which the northern people in
ensuing ages carried through most parts of Europe ;
the generals becoming kings, the great officers a
senate of nobles, with a representative from every
centenary of private soldiers; and in the assent of
the majority in these two bodies, confirmed by the
general, the legislature consisted.
I need not further explain a matter so universally
known, but return to my subject.
The Husige faction, by a gross piece of negligence
in the Yortes, had so far insinuated themselves and
their opinions into the favour of Regoge before he
came to the empire, that this prince firmly believed
them to be his only true friends and the others his
mortal enemies. By this opinion he governed all
the actions of his reign.
The emperor died suddenly in his journey to
Tedsu, where according to his usual custom he was
going to pass the summer.
This prince during his whole reign continued an
absolute stranger to the language, the manners, the
laws, and the religion of Japan, and passing his
whole time among old mistresses or a few privadoes,
left the whole management of the empire in the
hands of a minister, upon the condition of being made
easy in his personal revenues and the management
of parties in the senate. His last minister [Wal-
pole], who governed in the most arbitrary manner
for several years, he was thought to hate more than
he did any other person in Japan, except his only
son, the heir to the empire. The dislike he bore to
the former was because the minister, under pretence
that he could not govern the senate without dispos-
ing of employments among them, would not suffer
his master to oblige one single person, but disposed
of all to his own relations and dependents. But as
to that continued and virulent hatred he bore to the
prince his son, from the beginning of his reign to his
death, the historian has not accounted for it further
than by various conjectures which do not deserve to
be related.
The minister above mentioned was of a family
not contemptible, had been early a senator, and from
his youth a mortal enemy to the Yortes. He had
been formerly disgraced in the senate for some frauds
in the management of a public trust [bribes]. He
was perfectly skilled by long practice in the senato-
rial forms, and dexterous in the purchasing of votes
from those who could find their accounts better in
complying with his measures than they could pro-
bably lose by any tax that might be charged on the
kingdom. He seemed to fail in point of policy by
not concealing his gettings, never scrupling openly
to lay out vast sums of money in paintings, build-
ings, and purchasing estates, when it was known
that, upon his first coming into business upon the
death of the empress Nena, his fortune was but in-
considerable. He had the most boldness and the
least magnanimity that ever any mortal was endued
with. By enriching his relations, friends, and de-
pendents, in a most exorbitant manner, he was weak
enough to imagine that he had provided support
against an evil day. He had the best among all false
appearances of courage, which was a most unlimited
assurance, whereby he would swagger the boldest
man into a dread of his power, but had not the
smallest portion of magnanimity, growing jealous
and disgracing every man who was known to bear
the least civility to those he disliked. He had some
small smattering in books, but no manner of polite-
ness, nor in his whole life was ever known to advance
any one person upon the score of wit, learning, or
abilities for business. The whole system of his
ministry was corruption, and he never gave bribe
or pension without frankly telling the receivers what
he expected from them and threatening them to put
Throughout the reign of George I. the Whigs were in offico
and power.
A
560
AN ACCOUNT OF THE COURT
an end to his bounty if they failed to comply in every
circumstance.
A few months before the emperor's death there
was a design concerted between some eminent per-
sons of both parties whom the desperate state of the
empire had united to accuse the minister at the first
meeting of a new-chosen senate, which was then to
assemble, according to the laws of that empire; and
it was believed that the vast expense he must be at
in choosing an assembly proper for his purpose, added
to the low state of the treasury, the increasing num-
ber of pensioners, the great discontent of the people,
and the personal hatred of the emperor, would if
well laid open in the senate be of weight enough to
sink the minister when it should appear to his very
pensioners and creatures that he could not supply
them much longer.
While this scheme was in agitation an account
came of the emperor's death, and the prince his son
[George II.] with universal joy mounted the throne
of Japan.
The new emperor had always lived a private life
during the reign of his father, who in his annual ab-
sence never trusted him more than once with the
reins of government, which he held so evenly, that
he became too popular to be confided in any more.
He was thought not unfavourable to the Yortes, at
least not altogether to approve the virulence where-
with his father proceeded against them, and therefore
immediately upon his succession the principal per-
sons of that denomination came in several bodies
to kiss the hem of his garment, whom he received
with great courtesy, and some of them with particular
marks of distinction.
The prince during the reign of his father, having
not been trusted with any public charge, employed
his leisure in learning the language, the religion, the
customs and disposition of the Japanese; wherein
he received great information, among others, from
Nomtoc,a master of his finances and president of
the senate, who secretly hated Lelop-Aw the minis-
ter, and likewise from Ramneh [sir Thomas Han-
mer], a most eminent senator, who, despairing to do
any good with the father, had with great industry,
skill, and decency, used his endeavours to instil good
principles into the young prince.
Upon the news of the former emperor's death a
grand council was summoned of course, where little
passed besides directing the ceremony of proclaiming
the successor. But in some days after, the new em-
peror having consulted with those persons in whom
he could chiefly confide, and maturely considered in
his own mind the present state of his affairs as well
as the disposition of his people, convoked another
assembly of his council, wherein, after some time
spent in general business suitable to the present
emergency, he directed Lelop-Aw to give him in as
short terms as he conveniently could an account of
the nation's debts, of his management in the senate
and his negotiations with foreign courts, which that
minister having delivered according to his usual
manner, with much assurance and little satisfaction,
the emperor desired to be fully satisfied in the follow-
ing particulars:
Whether the vast expense of choosing such mem-
bers into the senate as would be content to do the
public business were absolutely necessary?
Whether those members thus chosen in would
cross and impede the necessary course of affairs,
unless they were supplied with great sums of money
and continued pensions?
Whether the same corruption and perverseness
were to be expected from the nobles?
Sir Spencer Compton, speaker of the house of commous.
Whether the empire of Japan were in so low 2
condition that the imperial envoys at foreign courts
must be forced to purchase alliances, or prevent a
war, by immense bribes given to the ministers of all
the neighbouring princes?
Why the debts of the empire were so prodigiously
advanced in a peace of twelve years at home and
abroad?
Whether the Yortes were universally enemies to the
religion and laws of the empire and to the imperial
family now reigning?
Whether those persons whose revenues consist in
lands do not give
lands do not give surer pledges of fidelity to the
public, and are more interested in the welfare of the
empire, than others whose fortunes consist only in
money?
And because Lelop-Aw for several years past had
engrossed the whole administration, the emperor sig-
nified that from him alone he expected an answer.
This minister, who had sagacity enough to culti-
vate an interest in the young prince's family during
the late emperor's life, received early intelligence
from one of his emissaries of what was intended at
the council, and had sufficient time to frame as plau-
sible an answer as his cause and conduct would allow.
However, having desired a few minutes to put his
thoughts in order, he delivered them in the following
manner:
"SIR,-Upon this short unexpected warning to
answer your imperial majesty's queries, I should be
wholly at a loss in your majesty's august presence,
and that of this most noble assembly, if I were armed
with a weaker defence than my own loyalty and in-
tegrity and the prosperous
prosperous success of
success of my endea-
vours.
"It is well known that the death of the empress
Nena happened in a most miraculous juncture, and
that if she had lived two months longer your illus-
trious family would have been deprived of your right
and we should have seen an usurper on your throne,
who would have wholly changed the constitution of
this empire, both civil and sacred; and although that
empress died in a most opportune season, yet the
peaceable entrance of your majesty's father was
effected by a continual series of miracles. The truth
of this appears by that unnatural rebellion which the
Yortes raised without the least provocation in the
first year of the late emperor's reign, which may be
sufficient to convince your majesty that every soul of
that denomination was, is, and will be for ever, a
favourer of the pretender, a mortal enemy to your
illustrious family, and an introducer of new gods into
the empire. Upon this foundation was built the whole
conduct of our affairs; and since a great majority
of the kingdom was at that time reckoned to favour
the Yortes faction, who in the regular course of elec-
tions must certainly have been chosen members of
the senate then to be convoked, it was necessary by
the force of money to influence elections in such a
manner that your majesty's father might have a suf-
ficient number to weigh down the scale on his side,
and thereby carry on those measures which could
only secure him and his family in the possession of
the empire. To support this original plan I came
into the service, but the members of the senate
knowing themselves every day more necessary, upon
the choosing of a new senate I found the charges
to increase, and that after they were chosen they in-
sisted upon an increase of their pensions, because
they well knew that the work could not be carried
on without them, and I was more general in my
donatives because I thought it was more for the
honour of the crown that every vote should pass
without a division, and that when a debate was pro-
AND EMPIRE OF JAPAN.
posed, it should immediately be quashed, by putting
the question.
"Sir, the date of the present senate is expired,
and your imperial majesty is now to convoke a new
one, which I confess will be somewhat more expen-
sive than the last, because the Yortes from your
favourable reception have begun to resume a spirit
whereof the country had some intelligence; and we
know the majority of the people, without proper
management, would be still in that fatal interest.
However, I dare undertake, with the charge only of
four hundred thousand sprangs [about a million
sterling], to return as great a majority of senators
of the true stamp as your majesty can desire. As to
the sums of money paid in foreign courts, I hope in
some years to ease the nation of them, when we
and our neighbours come to a good understanding.
However, I will be bold to say they are cheaper than
a war where your majesty is to be a principal.
"The pensions indeed to senators and other per-
sons must needs increase from the restiveness of
some and scrupulous nature of others, and the new
members, who are unpractised, must have better en-
couragement: however, I dare undertake to bring
the eventual charge within eight hundred thousand
sprangs. But to make this easy there shall be new
funds raised, of which I have several schemes ready,
without taxing bread or flesh, which shall be reserved.
to more pressing occasions.
"Your majesty knows it is the laudable custom
of all eastern princes to leave the whole management
of affairs, both civil and military, to their viziers.
"The appointments for your family and private
purse shall exceed those of your predecessors; you
shall be at no trouble further than to appear some-
times in council, and leave the rest to me; you shall
hear no clamour or complaints; your senate shall
upon occasion declare you the best of princes, the
father of your country, the arbiter of Asia, the de-
fender of the oppressed, and the delight of mankind.
"Sir, hear not those who would most falsely, im-
piously, and maliciously insinuate that your govern-
ment can be carried on without that wholesome
necessary expedient of sharing the public revenue
with your faithful deserving senators. This I know
my enemies are pleased to call bribery and corruption.
Be it so but I insist that without this bribery and cor-
ruption the wheels of government will not turn, or at
least will be apt to take fire like other wheels unless
they be greased at proper times. If an angel from
heaven should descend to govern this empire upon
any other scheme than what our enemies call cor-
ruption, he must return from whence he came and
leave the work undone.
"Sir, it is well known we are a trading nation,
and consequently cannot thrive in a bargain where
nothing is to be gained. The poor electors who run
from their shops or the plough for the service of
their country, are they not to be considered for their
labour and their loyalty? The candidates who with
the hazard of their persons, the loss of their cha-
racters, and the ruin of their fortunes, are preferred
to the senate in a country where they are strangers
before the very lords of the soil, are they not to be
rewarded for their zeal to your majesty's service, and
qualified to live in your metropolis as becomes the
lustre of their stations?
"Sir, If I have given great numbers of the most
profitable employments among my own relations and
nearest allies, it was not out of any partiality, but be-
cause I know them best and can best depend upon
them. I have been at the pains to mould and cul-
tivate their opinions. Abler heads might probably
have been found, but they would not be equally
VOL. I.
|
under my direction.
561
A huntsman who has the ab-
solute command of his dogs will hunt more effec-
tually than with a better pack, to whose manner and
cry he is a stranger.
"Sir, upon the whole, I will appeal to all those
who best knew your royal father, whether that blessed
monarch had ever one anxious thought for the public,
or disappointment, or uneasiness, or want of money
for all his occasions during the time of my adminis-
tration? And how happy the people confessed them-
selves to be under such a king I leave to their own
numerous addresses, which all politicians will allow
to be the most infallible proof how any nation stands.
affected to their sovereign."
Lelop-Aw having ended his speech and struck his
forehead thrice against the table, as the custom is in
Japan, sat down with great complacency of mind
and much applause of his adherents, as might be
observed by their countenances and their whispers.
But the emperor's behaviour was remarkable, for
during the whole harangue he appeared equally at-
tentive and uneasy. After a short pause his majesty
cornmanded that some other counsellor should de-
liver his thoughts, either to confirm or object against
what had been spoken by Lelop-Aw.
SHORT REMARKS ON
BISHOP BURNET'S HISTORY.
THIS author is in most particulars the worst quali-
fied for an historian that ever I met with. His
style is rough, full of improprieties, in expressions
often Scotch, and often such as are used by the
meanest people. He discovers a great scarcity of
words and phrases, by repeating the same several
hundred times for want of capacity to vary them.
His observations are mean and trite, and very often
false. His Secret History is generally made up of
coffee-house scandals, or at best from reports at the
third, fourth, or fifth hand. The account of the
pretender's birth would only become an old woman
in a chimney-corner. His vanity runs intolerably
through the whole book, affecting to have been of
consequence at nineteen years old, and while he was
a little Scotch parson of 40l. a-year. He was a gen-
tleman born, and in the time of his youth and vigour
drew in an old maiden daughter of a Scotch earl to
marry him. His characters are miserably wrought,
in many things mistaken, and all of them detracting,
except of those who were friends to the presbyte-
rians. That early love of liberty he boasts of is ab-
solutely false, for the first book that I believe he
ever published is an entire treatise in favour of pas-
sive obedience and absolute power, so that his reflec-
tions on the clergy for asserting and then changing
those principles come very improperly from him.
He is the most partial of all writers that ever pre-
tended so much to impartiality, and yet I who knew
him well am convinced that he is as impartial as he
could possibly find in his heart; I am sure more
than I ever expected from him, particularly in his
accounts of the papist and fanatic plots. This work
may more properly be called a History of Scotland
during the Author's Time, with some Digressions
relating to England, rather than deserve the title he
gives it, for I believe two-thirds of it relate only to
that beggarly nation and their insignificant brangles
and factions. What he succeeds best in is in giving
extracts of arguments and debates in council or par-
liament. Nothing recommends his book but the
recency of the facts he mentions, most of them being
Lady Margaret Kennedy, daughter to the earl of Cassilis.
20
A
562
REMARKS ON BURNET'S
still in memory, especially the story of the Revolution, | loved high and rough methods; but had neither the
which however is not so well told as might be ex-
pected from one who affects to have had so consi-
derable a share in it. After all, he was a man of
generosity and good-nature, and very communica-
tive; but in his ten last years was absolutely party-
mad, and fancied he saw popery under every bush.
He has told me many passages not mentioned in
his history, and many that are, but with several
circumstances suppressed or altered. He never gives
a good character without one essential point, that
the person was tender to dissenters, and thought
many things in the church ought to be amended.
Setting up for a maxim, laying down for a maxim,
clapt up, and some other words and phrases he uses
many hundred times.
Cut out for a court; a pardoning planet; clapt up;
left in the lurch; the mob; outed; a great beauty;
went roundly to work: all these phrases, used by the
vulgar, show him to have kept mean or illiterate
company in his youth.
EXTRACTS FROM
SWIFT'S REMARKS
ON "BURNET'S HISTORY OF HIS OWN TIMES
FOLIO EDITION, 1724.
PREFACE, p. 3. Burnet. "Indeed the peevishness,
the ill-nature, and the ambition of many clergymen
has sharpened my spirits perhaps too much against
them-so I warn my readers to take all that I say
on those heads with some grains of allowance."
Swift. "I will take his warning."
P. 11. Burnet. "Colonel Titus assured me that
he had it from king Charles I.'s own mouth, that he
was well assured his brother, prince Henry, was
poisoned by the earl of Somerset's means."-Swift.
Titus was the greatest rogue in England."
P. 18. Burnet. Gowry's conspiracy against
king James was confirmed to me by my father.".
Swift. "And yet Melville makes nothing of it."
P. 20. Burnet. "Charles I. had such an un-
gracious way of bestowing favours that the manner
of bestowing was almost as mortifying as the favour
was obliging."-Swift. "Not worth knowing."
|
|
|
P. 23. Burnet. "This person (Mr. Stewart), who
was only a private gentleman, became so consider-
able that he was raised by several degrees to be
made earl of Traquair, and lord-treasurer of Scotland,
and was in great favour; but suffered afterwards
such a reverse of fortune that I saw him so low that
he wanted bread; and it was generally believed that
he died of hunger."-Swift. "A strange death! |
Perhaps it was want of meat!'”
P. 26. Burnet. "How careful lord Balmerinoch's
father was to preserve the petition and the papers
relating to that trial, of which, says he, I never saw
any copy besides, and which I have now by me, and
which indeed is a very noble piece, full of curious
matter."-Swift. "Puppy!"
P. 28. Burnet. "The earl of Argyle was a more
solemn sort of man, grave and sober, and free of all
scandalous vices."-Swift. "As a man is free of a
corporation he means."
P. 29. Burnet. "The lord Wharton and the lord
Howard of Escrick undertook to deliver some of
these; which they did, and were clapt up upon
it."
Swift. "What dignity of expression !"
P. 30. Burnet. "King Charles I. was now in
great straits—his treasure was exhausted-his sub-
jects highly irritated-his ministry frightened, being
exposed to the anger and justice of parliament. He
skill to conduct them nor the height of genius to
manage them."-Swift. "Not one good quality
named."
P. 31. Burnet. "The queen of Charles I. was a
woman of great vivacity of conversation, and loved
all her life long to be in intrigues of all sorts."-
Swift. "Not of love, I hope."
P. 34. Burnet. "Dickison, Blair, Rutherford,
Baily, Cant, and other popular preachers in Scot-
land, affected great sublimities in devotion. They
poured themselves out in their prayers with a loud
voice and often with many tears. They had but an
ordinary proportion of learning among them; some-
what of Hebrew and very little Greek.
controversy with the papists, but above all with
the Arminians, was the height of their study."
Swift. "Great nonsense! Rutherford was half fool,
half mad."
Books of
P. 40. Burnet, speaking of the bad effects of the
marquis of Montrose's expedition and defeat, says,
"It alienated the Scots much from the king; it ex-
alted all that were enemies to peace; and there
seemed to be some colour for all those aspersions
that they had cast on the king, as if he had been in
a correspondence with the Irish rebels when the
worst tribe had been thus employed by him."-
Swift. "Lord Clarendon differs from all this."
P. 41. Burnet. "The earl of Essex told me that
he had taken all the pains he could to inquire into
the origin of the Irish massacre; but could never
see any reason to believe that the king had any ac-
cession to it."-Swift. "And who but a beast ever
believed it?”
P. 42. Burnet. Arguing with the Scots con-
cerning the propriety of the king's death, he ob-
serves that Drummond said, "That Cromwell had
plainly the better of them at their own weapons.'
Swift. "And Burnet thought as Cromwell did.”
P. 46. Burnet. "Fairfax was much distracted in
his mind, and changed purposes often every day."-
Swift. "Fairfax had hardly common sense."
P. 49. Burnet. “I will not enter further into the
military part; for I remember an advice of marshal
Schomberg, never to meddle in the relation of mili-
tary matters. His observation was, 'Some affected
to relate those affairs in all the terms of war, in
which they committed great errors, that exposed
them to the scorn of all commanders, who must
despise relations that pretend to exactness when
there were blunders in every part of them."". -Swift.
"Very foolish advice; for soldiers cannot write.'
"
P. 50. Burnet. "Laud's defence of himself when
in the Tower is a very mean performance. In most
particulars he excuses himself by this,-that he was
but one of many who either in council, star-chamber,
or high commission, voted illegal things. Now
though this was true, yet a chief minister, and one
in high favour, determines the rest so much that
they are little better than machines acted by him.
On other occasions he says, the thing was proved
but by one witness.' Now how strong soever this
defence may be in law, it is of no force in appeal to
the world; for if a thing is true it is no matter how
full or defective the proof is."-Swift. "All this is
full of malice and ill judgment.'
sup-
P. 50. Burnet, speaking of the Basilicon,
posed to be written by Charles I."-Swift. "I think it
is a poor treatise, and that the king did not write it.”
P. 51. Burnet. "Upon the king's death the
Scots proclaimed his son king, and sent over sir
George Winran, that married my great aunt, to
treat with him while he was in the isle of Jersey.'
-Swift "Was that the reason why he was sent ?”
HISTORY OF HIS OWN TIMES.
563
P. 53. Burnet. "King Charles II., when in Scot-
land, wrought himself into as grave a deportment as
he could. He heard many prayers and sermons,
some of great length. I remember, in one fast-day,
there were six sermons preached without intermis-
sion. I was there myself, and not a little weary of
so tedious a service."-Swift. "Burnet was not
then eight years old.”
P. 61. Burnet, speaking of the period of the
usurpation in Scotland-" Cromwell built three cita-
dels, Leith, Ayr, and Inverness, besides many little.
forts. There was good justice done, and vice was
suppressed and punished; so that we always reckon
those eight years of usurpation a time of great peace
and prosperity."-Swift. "No doubt you do.”
P. 63. Burnet, speaking of the Scotch preachers
in the time of the civil wars, says, "The crowds
were far beyond the capacity of their churches or
the reach of their voices."-Swift.
"And the
preaching beyond the capacity of the crowd-I
believe the church had as much capacity as the
minister."
P. 64. Burnet. "The resolutions sent up by one
Sharpe, who had been long in England, and was an
active and an eager man."-Swift. "Afterwards a
bishop, and murdered.'
P. 66. Burnet. "Thus Cromwell had all the
king's party in a net: he let them dance in at plea-
sure and upon occasions clapt them up for a short
time."-Swift. "A pox of his claps."
P. 87. Burnet, speaking of the Restoration-" Of
all this, Monk had both the praise and the reward;
for I have been told a very small share of it belonged
to him."-Swift. "Malice."
P. 126. Burnet, speaking of the execution of the
marquis of Argyle;-Swift. "He was the greatest
villain of his age."
P. 127. Burnet. "The proceeding against War-
riston was soon despatched."-Swift. "Warriston
was an abominable dog."
P. 134. Burnet, of bishop Leightoun's character,
"The grace and gravity of his pronunciation was
such, that few heard him without a very sensible
emotion-his style, however, was rather too fine.”.
Swift. "A fault that Burnet is not guilty of."
P. 140. Burnet. "Leightoun did not stand much
upon it.
He did not think orders given without
bishops were null and void. He thought the forms
of government were not settled by such positive
laws as were unalterable, but only by apostolical
practices which, as he thought, authorised episco-
pacy, as the best form: yet he did not think it ne-
cessary to the being of a church, but he thought that
every church might make such rules of ordinations
as they pleased.' Swift. "Here's a specimen of
style! think! thought! — thought! —think !—
thought!"
P. 154. Burnet, speaking of a proclamation for
shutting up 200 churches in one day!" Sharpe
said to myself he knew nothing of it; yet he was
glad it was done without his having any share
in it, for by it he was furnished with somewhat in
which he was
no way concerned, upon which
he might cast all the blame of all that followed; yet
this was suitable enough to a maxim that he and all
that sort of people set up-that the execution of the
laws was that by which all governments maintained
their strength, as well as their honour."-Swift.
-Swift.
"Dunce! Can there be a better maxim?”
P. 163. Burnet. "John Goodwin and. Milton
did also escape all censure, to the surprise of all
people."--Swift. "He censures even mercy."
Ibid. Burnet. "Milton was not excepted out of
the Act of Indemnity; and afterwards he came out
of his concealment and lived many years, much visit-
ed by all strangers and much admired by all at
home for the poems he writ, though he was then
blind; chiefly that of Paradise Lost,' in which
there is a nobleness both of contrivance and execu-
tion, that, though he affected to write in blank verse,
without rhyme, and made many new and rough
words, yet it was esteemed the beautifullest and
perfectest poem that ever was writ, at least in our
language."-Swift. "A mistake!-for it is in Eng-
lish."
P. 164. Burnet. "The great share that sir Henry
Vane had in the attainder of the earl of Strafford,
and in the whole turn of affairs to the total change
of government, but above all the great opinion that
was had of his parts and capacity to embroil matters
again, made the court think it necessary to put him
out of the way."-Swift. "A malicious turn!-Vane
was a dangerous enthusiastic beast."
Ibid. Burnet. "When sir Henry Vane saw his
death was designed, he composed himself to it with
a resolution that surprised all who knew how little
of that was natural to him. Some instances of this
were very extraordinary, though they cannot be
mentioned with decency."-Swift. "His lady con-
ceived by him the night before his execution."
P. 180. Burnet, speaking of the dissenters in
Charles II.'s time looking for a new liturgy, con-
tinues, "But all this was overthrown by Baxter,
who was a man of great piety and, if he had not
meddled in too many things, would have been
esteemed one of the learned men of the age. He
writ near two hundred books."-Swift. "Very sad
ones indeed!”
P. 186. Burnet, speaking of the great fines raised
on the church ill applied, proceeds, "If the half
had been applied to the buying of tithes or glebes
for small vicarages, here a foundation had been laid
for a great and effectual reformation."-Swift. "He
judges here right, in my opinion."
Ibid. Burnet, continuing the same subject,
"The men of merit and services were loaded with
many livings and many dignities. With this acces-
sion of wealth there broke in upon the church a
great deal of luxury and high living, on the pretence
of hospitality, whilst others made purchases and left
great estates, most of which we have seen melt
away."-Swift. "An uncharitable aggravation, a
base innuendo."
P. 189. Burnet. "Patrick was a great preacher
and wrote well on the Scriptures. He was a labor-
ious man in his function, of great strictness of life,
but a little too severe against those who differed from
him; but that was where he thought their doctrines
struck at the fundamentals of religion. He be-
came afterwards more moderate.”—Swift.
"Yes,
for he turned a rank Whig."
P. 190. Burnet. "Archbishop Tenison was a
very learned man, endowed schools, set up a public
library," &c., &c.-Swift. "The dullest good-for-
nothing man I ever knew."
P. 191. Burnet, condemning the bad style of
preaching before Tillotson, Lloyd, and Stillingfleet,
says, "Their discourses were long and heavy; all
was pyebald, full of many sayings of different lan-
guages."-Swift. "A noble epithet! How came
Burnet not to learn this style? He surely neglected
his own talents.”
P. 193. Burnet, speaking of the first formation
of the Royal Society, "Many physicians and other
ingenious men went into a society for natural
philosophy, but he who laboured most was Robert
Boyle, the earl of Cork's youngest son, who was
looked upon by all who knew him as a very perfect
202
564
REMARKS ON BURNET'S
pattern. He was a very devout christian, humble
and modest almost to a fault of a most spotless and
exemplary life in all respects. He was highly
charitable, and was a mortified and self-denied man
that delighted in nothing so much as in doing good.
He neglected his person, despised the world, and
lived abstracted from all pleasures, designs, and in-
terest."-Swift.
-Swift. "And yet Boyle was a very silly
writer."
P. 195. Burnet. "Peter Walsh, who was the
honestest and learnedest man I ever knew among
the Popish clergy, often told me there was nothing
which the whole Popish party feared more than an
union of those of the church of England with the
presbyterians. The papists had but two maxims,
from which they never departed. The one was to
divide us, and the other, to keep themselves united.”
-Swift. "Rogue !!!"
P. 202. Burnet. "The queen-mother had
brought over from France one Mrs. Stewart, a great
beauty.”—Swift. "A pretty phrase this !"
P. 203. Burnet. "One of the first things that
was done this session of parliament (1663), was the
execution of my unfortunate uncle Warriston. He
was so disordered, both in body and mind, that it
was a reproach to government to proceed against
him. He was brought before the parliament to hear
what he had to say why his execution should not be
awarded. He spoke long, but in a disordered and
broken strain, which his enemies fancied had been
put on to create pity. He was sentenced to die.
His deportment was unequal, as might be expected
from a man in his condition; yet when the day of
execution came he was very serene; he was cheer-
ful and seemed fully satisfied with his death. He
read a speech twice over on the scaffold, that to my
knowledge he composed himself, in which he justi-
fied all the proceedings in the covenant, and asserted
his own sincerity; but condemned his joining with
Cromwell and the sectaries; though even in that his
intentions had been sincere for the good of his
country, and the security of religion. Lord Lau-
derdale had lived in great friendship with him; but
he saw the king was so set against him, that he,
who at all times took more care of himself than of
his friends, would not in so critical a time seem to
favour a man whom the presbyterians had set up as
a sort of an idol amongst them, and on whom they
did depend more than on any other man alive."
Swift. Pray, was this Warriston hanged or be-
headed? A very fit uncle for such a bishop!"
P. 220. Burnet. Pensionary De Witt had the
notion of a commonwealth from the Greeks and
Romans, and from thence he came to fancy that an
army commanded by officers of their own country
was both more in their own power and would serve
them with the more zeal, since they themselves had
such an interest in their success."-Swift.
Swift. "He
ought to have judged the contrary.”
P. 225. Burnet, speaking of the slight rebellion.
in the west, 1666, says, "The rest of the rebels were
favoured by the darkness of the night, and the king's
troops were not in case to pursue them, for they
were a poor, harmless company of men become mad
with oppression."-Swift. "A fair historian !"
P. 238. Burnet. "Sir John Cunningham was
not only an eminent lawyer, but was, above all, a
man of eminent probity and of a sweet temper, and
indeed one of the piousest men of the nation."-
Swift. "Pray is that Scotch ?"
P. 242. Burnet. "When the peace of Breda was
concluded, the king writ to the Scottish council and
communicated that to them, and with that signified
that it was his pleasure that the army should be
disbanded."-Swift. "Here are four thats in one
line."
P. 243. Burnet. "Sir Robert Murray, appre-
hensive that episcopacy was to be pulled down,
wrote a long and sorrowful letter to Sheldon, and
upon that Sheldon wrote a very long one to sir
Robert, which I read, and found more temperate
than I could have expected from him.' -Swift.
"Sheldon was a very great and excellent man.”
P. 245. Burnet. "The countess of Dysart was a
woman of great beauty, but of far greater parts; she
had studied, not only divinity and history, but
mathematics and philosophy. She was violent in
everything she set about-a violent friend, but much
more violent enemy. When Lauderdale was pri-
soner after Worcester fight, she made him believe
he was in great danger of his life, and that she saved
it by her intrigues with Cromwell."-Swift. "Crom-
well had gallantries with her."
P. 253. Burnet, speaking of Sheldon's remon-
strating with the king about his mistresses, adds,
"From that day Sheldon could never recover the
king's confidence."-Swift. "Sheldon refused the
sacrament to the king, for living in adultery."
P. 257. Burnet. “Thus lord Clarendon fell under
the common fate of great ministers, whose employ-
ment exposes them to envy, and draws upon them
the indignation of all who are disappointed in their
pretensions."-Swift. "Stupid moralist!"
P. 258. Burnet, speaking of the earl of Rochester,
second son of the lord Clarendon: "He was thought
the smoothest man in the court; and during all the
disputes concerning his father, he made his court so
dexterously that no resentments ever appeared on
that head. He is a man of far greater parts than his
brother (who in resentment of his father's ill-treat-
ment always opposed the court), has a very good pen,
but speaks not gracefully."-Swift. "Pray, was this
pen of gold or silver?"
He
Ibid. Burnet. "In a conversation I had with
the king in his closet, I was struck to hear a prince
of his course of life so much disgusted at the ambi-
tion and covetousness of the clergy. He said, if the
clergy had done their part, it would have been an
easy matter to run down the nonconformists.
told me, he had a chaplain that was a very honest
man, but a very great blockhead, to whom he had
given a living in Suffolk that was full of that sort of
people. He had gone about among them from
house to house, though he could not imagine what
he could say to them, for he said he was a very silly
fellow, but that he believed his nonsense suited
theirs,' for he had brought them all to church, and
in reward for his diligence he had given him a bi-
shopric in Ireland."-Swift. "Bishop Wolley, of
Clonfert."
P. 259. Burnet. "If the sectaries were humble
and modest, and would tell what would satisfy them,
there might be some colour for granting them some
concessions."-Swift. "I think so too."
P. 263. Burnet, speaking of the king's attachment
to Nell Gwyn, says,
to Nell Gwyn, says, "And yet after all he never
treated her with the decencies of a mistress."-Swift.
"Pray, what decencies are these ?"
Ibid. Burnet. "The king had another mistress,
who was managed by lord Shaftesbury, who was the
daughter of a clergyman (one Roberts), in whom
her first education had so deep a root, that though
she fell into many scandalous disorders, with very
dismal adventures in them all, yet a principle of re-
ligion was so deeply laid in her, that though it did
not restrain her, yet it kept alive in her such a con-
stant horror of sin that she was never easy in an ill
course of life, and died with great sense of her for-
HISTORY OF HIS OWN TIMES.
565
mer conduct. I was often with her the last three
months of her life."-Swift. "Was she handsome
then?"
P. 265. Burnet. "Sedley had a more copious
wit and sudden than that which furnished a per-
petual run of discourse; but he was not so correct
as lord Dorset, nor so sparkling as lord Rochester.”
-Swift. "No better a critic in wit than in style."
P. 266. Burnet. "Lord Robarts, afterwards earl
of Radnor, who succeeded the duke of Ormond in
his government of Ireland, was a morose man, be-
lieved to be sincerely just and as wise as a cynical
humour could allow him to be."-Swift. "How
does that hinder wisdom?"
P. 273. Burnet. "Charles II. confessed himself a
papist to the prince of Orange; and the prince told
me he never spoke of this to any other person till
after his death."—Swift. "What! after his own
death?"
P. 288. Burnet. "The Episcopal party thought I
intended to make myself popular at their cost; so
they began that strain of fury and calumny that has
pursued me ever since from that sort of people.".
Swift. "A civil term for all who are Episcopal!"
P. 298. Burnet. "In compiling the memoirs of the
duke of Hamilton, I found there materials for a
very large history. I writ it with great sincerity
and concealed none of their errors. I did indeed
conceal several things that related to the king. I
left out some passages that were in his letters, in
some of which was too much weakness."-Swift.
"These letters if they had been published could not
have given a worse character of him.”
P. 300. Burnet, speaking of the Scotch clergy re-
fusing to be made bishops, says, "They had an ill
opinion of the court, and could not be brought to
leave their retirement."-Swift. "For that reason
they should have accepted bishoprics."
P. 303. Burnet. "Madame (Charles II.'s sister)
had an intrigue with another person whom I knew
well, the count of Treville. When she was in her
last agonies, she said 'Adieu, Treville! He was so
struck with this accident that it had a good effect on
him; for he went and lived many years amongst the
Fathers of the Oratory, and became both a very
learned and devout man. He came afterwards out
into the world. I saw him often. He was a man
of a very sweet temper, only a little too formal for a
Frenchman; but he was very sincere. He was a
Jansenist. He hated the Jesuits, and had a very
mean opinion of the king, which appeared in all the
instances in which it was safe for him to show it."
-Swift. Pretty jumping periods !"
P. 304. Burnet. "When a foreign minister asked
the king's leave to treat with Lockhart in his master's
name, the king consented, but with this severe re-
flection, that he believed he would be true to any-
body but himself."-Swift. "Does he mean, Lock-
hart would not be true to Lockhart?"
P. 306. Burnet. "The earl of Shaftesbury was the
chief man who advised the king to shut up the ex-
chequer."-Swift. "Clifford had the merit of it."
P. 321. Burnet. "As soon as king William was
brought into the command of the armies, he told me
he spoke to De Witt, and desired to live in an entire
confidence with him. His answer was cold, so he
saw he could not depend upon him. When he told
me this, he added, he certainly was one of the great-
est men of the age, and he believed he served his
country faithfully."-Swift. "And yet, for all this,
the prince contrived that he should be murdered."
P. 322. Burnet. "In this famous campaign of
Louis XIV. against the Dutch (1672), there was so
little heart or judgment shown in the management
of that run of success, that when that year is properly
set out, it will appear to be one of the least glorious
of his life."-Swift. "A metaphor only fit for a
gamester."
P. 328. Burnet. "Prince Waldeck was their chief
general, a man of great compass and a true judgment,
equally able in the cabinet and in the camp. But
he was always unsuccessful, because he was never
furnished according to the schemes he had laid down.
The opinion that armies had of him as an unfortunate
general made him really so; for soldiers cannot have
much heart, when they have not an entire confidence
in him that has the chief command."-Swift. "When
he speaks of his great compass, I suppose he means
he was very fat."
P. 329. Burnet. "It seems the French made no
great account of their prisoners, for they released
25,000 Dutch for 50,000 crowns."-Swift. "What!
ten shillings a piece! By much too dear for a Dutch-
man.'
"
P. 337. Burnet. "This year (1672) the king de-
clared a new mistress, and made her duchess of
Portsmouth. She had been maid of honour to
madame, the king's sister, and had come over with
her to Dover, where the king had expressed such a
regard for her that the duke of Buckingham, who
hated the duchess of Cleveland, intended to put her
on the king."-Swift. "Surely he means the con-
trary."
P. 341. Burnet. "Duke of Lauderdale called on
me all of a sudden, and put me in mind of the project
I had laid before him of putting all the ousted minis-
ters by couples into parishes, that instead of wander-
ing about the country to hold conventicles, they
might be stationary, and may have half a benefice."
-Swift. "A pretty Scotch project! instead of feed-
ing fifty, you starve one hundred."
P. 370. Burnet. "I was ever of Nazanzien's opi-
nion, who never wished to see any more synods of
the clergy." Swift. "Dog!"
P. 372. Burnet, speaking of an insurrection in
Scotland, says,
"The king said he was afraid I was
too busy, and wished me to be more quiet."-Swift.
"The king knew him right."
Ibid. Burnet. "I preached in many of the churches
in London, and was so well received, that it was
probable I might be accepted of in any way that de-
pended on a popular election.”. -Swift. "Very much
to his honour!”
P. 373. Burnet. "This violent and groundless
prosecution lasted some months; and during this
time I said to some that duke Lauderdale had gone
so far in opening some wicked designs to me, that I
perceived he could not be satisfied unless I was un-
done; so I told what was mentioned before of the
discourses that passed between him and me."-Swift.
"A Scotch dog!"
P. 378. Burnet. "I will henceforth leave the ac-
count of our affairs beyond sea wholly to Temple's
letters, in which they are very truly and fully set
forth."-Swift. "Sir William Temple was a man
of sense and virtue, to which Burnet was a stranger.”
P. 380. Burnet, speaking of his being pressed,
before parliament, to reveal what passed between
him and the duke of Lauderdale in private; and the
parliament, in case of refusal, threatening him; he
says, "Upon this I yielded, and gave an account of
what I formerly mentioned."-Swift. "Treacher-
ous villain!"
P. 382. Burnet. "Sir Harbottle Grimston had
always a great tenderness for dissenters, though still
in the communion of the church.”—Swift.
"Bur-
net's test of all virtues."
Ibid. Burnet. "Lady Grimston was the humblest,
566
REMARKS ON BURNET'S
the devoutest, and best tempered person I ever knew
of that sort" (church of England).-Swift.
"Ah!
rogue!"
P. 392. Burnet. "Sancroft, dean of St. Paul's,
was raised to the see of Canterbury. He was a man
of solemn deportment, had a sullen gravity in his
looks, and was considerably learned. He had put
on a monastic strictness, and lived abstracted from
company. These things, together with his living
unmarried and his being fixed in the old maxims of
high loyalty, and a superstitious valuing of little
things, made the court conclude that he was a man
who might be entirely gained to serve all their ends, or
at least that he would be an unactive speculative man,
and give them little opposition in anything they
might attempt, when they had more promising op-
portunities.”—Swift. "False and detracting."
P. 406. Burnet. "In this battle between the
prince of Orange (afterwards king William) and the
duke of Orleans, some regiments of marines, on
whom the prince depended, did basely run away;
yet the other bodies fought so well that he lost not
much, except the honour of the day."-Swift. "What
he was pretty well used to."
P. 413. Burnet. "Upon the examination of Mit-
chell before the privy-council for the intended assas-
sination of archbishop Sharpe, it being first proposed
to cut off the prisoner's right hand and then his left;
lord Rothes, who was a pleasant man, said, “Then
how shall he wipe his b-ch?' This is not very
decent to be mentioned in such a work if it were not
necessary."-Swift. "As decent as a thousand other
passages: so he might have spared his apology."
P. 414. Burnet, in the last article of the above
trial, observes, “That the judge, who hated Sharpe,
as he went up to the bench, passing by the prisoner,
whispered him- Confess nothing, except you are
sure of your limbs as well as your life.'"-Swift. “O
rare judge!"
P. 416. Burnet, speaking of the execution of the
above Mitchell for the attempt against Sharpe, says,
"Yet the duke of Lauderdale had a chaplain
(Hickes), afterwards dean of Worcester, who pub-
lished a false and partial relation of this matter in
order to the justifying it."-Swift. "He was a learn-
ed and a pious man.
"
P. 425. Burnet. "Titus Oates had gotten to be a
chaplain in one of the king's ships, from which he
was dismissed upon complaint of some unnatural
practices."-Swift.
-Swift. "Only s
"Only s--y."
P. 441. Burnet. "On the impeachment of lord
Danby, Maynard, an ancient and eminent lawyer,
explained the words of the statute, 25 Edward III.,
that the courts of law could not proceed but upon
one of the crimes there enumerated, but the par-
liament had still a power, by the clause in that act,
to declare what was treason."-Swift.
"Yes, by a
new act, but not by a retrospect there; for May-
nard was a knave and a fool, with all his law."
P. 455. Burnet. "The bill of exclusion certainly
disinherited the next heir, which the king and par-
liament might do as well as any private man might
disinherit his next heir."-Swift. "This is not al-
ways true; yet it was certainly in the power of the
king and parliament to exclude the next heir."
P. 459. Burnet. "For a great while I thought the
limitations proposed in the exclusion bill was the
wisest and best method."-Swift. "It was the wisest
because it would be less opposed, and the king
would consent to it-otherwise an exclusion would
have done better."
Burnet, speaking of the party-writings for and
against the presbyters and churchmen, continues,
"The chief manager of all these angry writings was
one sir Roger l'Estrange, a man who had lived in
all the late times, and was furnished with many pas-
sages, and an unexhausted copiousness in writing."
Swift. "A superficial meddling coxcomb."
P. 483. Burnet. "I laid open the crueltics of
the church of Rome in queen Mary's time, which
were not then known; and I aggravated, though
very truly, the danger of falling under the power of
that religion."-Swift. "A BULL!"
Ibid. Burnet. "Sprat had studied a polite style
much; but there was little strength in it. He had
the beginnings of learning laid well in him; but he
has allowed himself, in a course of some years, in
much sloth and too many liberties."--Swift. "Very
false."
P. 509. Burnet, speaking of the grand juries in
the latter end of king Charles's reign returning igno-
ramus so frequently on bills of indictment, states,
that in defence of those ignoramus juries it was
said "That by the express words of their oath they
were bound to make true presentments of what
should appear true to them; and therefore if they
did not believe the evidence they could not find a
bill, though sworn to. A book was writ to support
this, in which both law and reason were brought to
confirm it.”—Swift. "This book was written by
lord Somers.”
P. 525. Burnet. "Home was convicted on the
credit of one evidence. Applications 'tis true were
made to the duke of York for saving his life; but he
was not born under a pardoning planet."—Swift.
"Silly fop!"
Burnet, speaking of the surrender of the charters
in 1682-" It was said that those who were in the
government incorporations, and had their charters
and seals trusted to their keeping, were not the pro-
prietors nor masters of those rights. They could
not distinguish those corporations nor part with any
of their privileges. Others said, that whatever
might be objected to the reason and equity of the
thing, yet when the seal of a corporation was put to
any deed such a deed was good in law.'
This mat-
ter goes beyond my skill in law to determine.'
Swift. "What does he think of the surrender of
charters, abbeys, &c., &c. ?"
P. 528. Burnet. "The nonconformists were now
persecuted with much eagerness. This was visibly
set on by the papists; and it was wisely done by
them; for they knew how much the nonconformists
were set against them."-Swift. "Not so much as
they are against the church."
P. 536. Burnet. "The truth is juries became at
that time the shame of the nation as well as a re-
proach to religion; for they were packed and pre-
pared to bring in verdicts as they were directed, and
not as matters appeared in the evidence."-Swift.
"So they are now.'
P. 543. Burnet, on Rumbold's proposal to shoot
the king at Hodsdon in his way to Newmarket,
adds, "The conspirators then ran into much wicked
talk about the means of executing it—but nothing
was fixed upon; all was but talk."-Swift. "All
plots begin with talk."
P. 548. Burnet. At the time of lord Russell's
plot-"Baillie being asked by the king whether
they had any design against his person? he frankly
said not; but being asked whether he had any con-
sultation with lords or other persons about an in-
surrection in Scotland, Baillie faltered at this, for
his conscience restrained him from lying."-Swift.
"The author and his cousins could not lie, but they
could plot."
P. 553. Burnet, speaking of lord Essex's suicide
(1683), “His man, thinking he stayed longer than
HISTORY OF HIS OWN TIMES.
567
ordinary in his closet, looked through the keyhole,
and saw him lying dead."-Swift. "He cut his
throat with a razor on the close-stool.”a
P. 555. Burnet. "On lord Russell's trial Finch
summed up the evidence against him, but showed
more of a vicious eloquence in turning matters
against the prisoner than law."-Swift.
"Finch
was afterwards earl of Aylesford. An arrant r-l!"
P. 568. Burnet. "All people were apprehensive
of very black designs when they saw Jefferies made
chief-justice of the king's bench, who was so scandal-
ously vicious and was drunk every day; besides, he
had a drunkenness of fury in his temper that looked
like enthusiasm. He did not consider the decencies
of his post; nor did he seem so much as to affect to
seem impartial, as became a judge, but ran out upon
all occasions into declamations that did not become
the bar, much less the bench. He was not learned
in his profession either; and his eloquence, though
viciously copious, was neither correct nor agreeable.
-Swift. "Somewhat like Burnet's eloquence."
P. 572. Burnet, on Algernon Sydney's trial, ob-
serves, "That Finch aggravated the matter of the
book, as a proof of his intentions: for he said,
Scribere est agere."-Swift. "And yet king George
made him earl of Aylesford.'
Ibid. Burnet. "When Sydney charged the she-
riffs who brought him the execution-warrant with
having packed the jury, one of the sheriffs wept.
He told it to a person from whom Tillotson had it,
who told it to me."-Swift. "Abominable authority!"
P. 577. Burnet. "So that it was plain that after
all the story which they had made of the Rye-house
plot, it had gone no further, and that a company of
seditious and inconsiderable persons were framing
among themselves some treasonable schemes that
were never likely to come to anything."-Swift.
"Cursed partiality!”
P. 579. Burnet. "The king (Charles II.) had
published a story all about the court as a reason for
his severity against Armstrong, that he had been
sent over by Cromwell to murder him beyond sea;
and upon Armstrong's conviction, though the king
promised he would not reveal it during his life, yet
now looking upon him as dead in law he was free
from that promise."-Swift. "If the king had a
mind to lie, he would have waited till Armstrong
was hanged."
P. 585. Burnet. "Finding the difficulty of dis-
covering anything, and in confidence, I saved myself
out of these difficulties by saying to all my friends
that I would not be involved in any such confidence;
for as long as I thought our circumstances were
such that resistance was not lawful, I thought the
concealing any design in order to it was likewise
unlawful."-Swift.
"Jesuitical!"
P. 586. Burnet. "Baillie suffered several hard-
ships and fines for being supposed to be in the Rye-
house-plot; yet during this he seemed so composed,
and even so cheerful, that his behaviour looked like
the revival of the spirit of the noblest Greeks and
Romans."-Swift. "Take notice he was our cousin."
P. 587. Burnet, speaking of Baillie's execution,
says "The only excuse there was ever pretended for
this infamous prosecution was that they were sure
he was guilty, and that the whole secret of the ne-
gotiation between the two kingdoms was trusted to
him; and since he would not discover it, all methods
might be taken to destroy him."-Swift. "Case of
the bishop of Rochester."
The death of Essex was the subject of much discussion at
the time, and of severe prosecution against Messrs. Speke and
Bradden, for encouraging a report that he had been murdered
in prison
P. 588. Burnet. "Lord Perth wanting to see
Leightoun, I wrote so earnestly to him that he came
to London; and on his coming up, was amazed to
see a man of seventy years of age look so well and
fresh as if time seemed to stand still with him; and
yet the next day both speech and sense left him,
and he continued panting about twelve hours, and
then died without pang or convulsion."-Swift.
"Burnet killed him by bringing him up to London."
P. 589. Burnet. "There were two remarkable
circumstances in Leightoun's death. He used often.
to say that if he were to choose a place to die in it
should be an inn, it looking like a pilgrim's going
home, to whom this world was all an inn, and who
was weary of the noise and confusion of it. He
added that the officious tenderness of his friends was
an entanglement to a dying man, and that the un-
concerned attendance of those that could be procured
in such a place would give less disturbance. He had
his wish."-Swift. "Canting puppy!"
P. 590. Burnet. "Stearne, archbishop of York,
died this year (1684) in the 86th year of his age. He
was a sour, ill-tempered man, and minded chiefly to
enrich his family." Swift. "And yet he was
thought to be the author of the Whole Duty of Man."
P. 596. Burnet. "Being appointed to preach the
sermon on the Gunpowder-plot (1684) at the Rolls-
chapel, I took for my text 'Save me from the lion's
mouth;
thou hast heard me from the horns of the
unicorn.' I made no reflections in my thoughts on
the lion and unicorn as being the two supporters of
the king's escutcheon, for I ever hated all points of
that sort as a profanation of Scriptures."-Swift.
"I doubt that."
Burnet, speaking of the suspicion of Charles II.
being poisoned-"Needham called twice to have the
stomach opened, but the surgeons seemed not to
hear him; and when he moved it a second time, as
he told me, heard Lower say to one that stood next
him 'Needham will undo us calling thus to have
the stomach opened, for he may see they will not
do it.' They were diverted to look to somewhat
else; and when they returned to look upon the sto-
mach it was carried away, so that it was never
viewed. Le Fevre, a French physician, told me he
saw a blackness in the shoulder, upon which he
made an incision and saw it was all mortified.
Short, another physician, who was a papist but after
a form of his own, did very much suspect foul deal-
ing, and he had talked more freely of it than any of
the protestants durst do at that time."-Swift. "A
physician told me, who had it from Short himself,
that he believed him to be poisoned."
P. 596. Burnet, concluding the character of
Charles II.“
"His person and temper, his vices as
well as his fortunes, resemble the character that we
have given us of Tiberius so much that it were easy
to draw the parallel between them. Tiberius's
banishment and his coming afterwards to reign
makes the comparison in that respect pretty near-
his hating of business and love of pleasures-his
raising of favourites and trusting them entirely, and
then his putting them down and hating them exces-
sively-his art of covering deep designs, particularly
of revenge, with an appearance of softness, brings
them so near a likeness that I did not wonder much
to observe the resemblance of their faces and per-
sons. At Rome I saw one of the last statues made
for Tiberius after he had lost his teeth; but bating
the alteration which that made, it was so like king
Charles that prince Borghese and signior Dominica,
to whom it belonged, did agree with me in thinking
that it looked like a statue made for him."-Swift.
"He was certainly a very bad prince, but not to the
568
REMARKS ON BURNET'S
degree described in this character, which is poorly
drawn, and mingled with malice very unworthy an
historian the style is likewise abominable, as is the
whole history of observations trite and vulgar."
P. 651. Burnet. "Goodenough, who had been
under-sheriff of London when Cornish was sheriff,
offered to swear against Cornish, and also said that
Rumsey had not discovered all he knew. So Rum-
sey to save himself and Goodenough swore against
Cornish; and he was seized on, tried, and executed
in a week.' Swift. "Goodenough afterwards
went to Ireland, practised the law, and died there."
P. 654. Burnet. "The archbishop of Armagh
(1685) had continued lord-chancellor of Ireland,
and was in all respects so complaisant to the court
that even his religion became suspected."-Swift.
Swift.
"False!"
Ibid. Burnet. "And yet this archbishop was not
thought thorough-paced ;-so sir Charles Porter,
who was a zealous promoter of everything the king
proposed, and was a man of ready wit, and being
poor was thought a person fit to be made a tool of,
was declared lord-chancellor of Ireland."—Swift.
-Swift. |
"False and scandalous."
P. 669. Burnet. Solicitor-general Finch had
been continued in his employment only to lay the
load of this judgment upon him (the prosecution of
lord de la Mere). He was presently after turned
out, and Powis succeeded him, who was a compliant,
young, aspiring lawyer."-Swift. "Sir Thomas
Powis-good dull lawyer."
P. 672. Burnet. "Intimations were everywhere
given that the king would not have the dissenters or
their meetings disturbed. Some of them began to
grow insolent upon this show of favour."-Swift.
"The whole body of them grew insolent, and com-
plying to the king.”
P. 675. Burnet. "Sancroft lay silent at Lambeth.
He seemed zealous against popery in private dis-
course; but he was of such a timorous temper, and
so set on the enriching his nephew, that he showed no
sort of courage."-Swift.
"False as hell."
P. 681. Burnet. "The episcopal clergy were in
many places so sunk in sloth and ignorance that
they were not capable of conducting their zeal; but
the presbyterians, though smarting under great se-
verities, expressed on all occasions their unconquer-
able aversion to popery."-Swift. "Partial dog!"'
P. 690. Burnet, speaking of king William's cha-
racter, says
"He had no vice but one sort, in which
he was very cautious and secret."-Swift.
of two sorts-male and female-in the former he
was neither cautious nor secret."
(
"It was
P. 691. Burnet. "In a conversation with the
prince of Orange at the Hague (1686), when I told
him my opinion of toleration, he said that was all
he would ever attempt to bring us to, for quieting
our contentions at home."—Swift.
"So it seems
the prince even then thought of being king.”
P. 692. Burnet. "The advice I gave the princess
of Orange when queen of England was to endeavour
to get the power of king to the prince for life; for
this would lay the greatest obligation on him possi-
ble, and lay the foundation for a perfect union be-
tween them, which had of late been a little em-
broiled."-Swift. "On account of Mrs. Villiers,
now lady Orkney; but he proved a d -d husband
for all that."
P. 693. Burnet. Penn, the quaker, was a talk-
ing vain man, who had been long in the king's
favour, he being the vice-admiral's son."- Swift.
"He spoke very agreeably and with much spirit."
P. 695. Burnet. "Cartwright was promoted to
Chester. He was a man of good capacity, and had
made some progress in learning. He was ambitious
and servile, cruel and boisterous; and by the great
liberties he allowed himself, he fell under much
scandal of the worst sort."-Swift. Only s――y."
66
P.697. Burnet. "In all nations the privileges of
colleges and universities are esteemed such sacred
things that few will venture to disturb them."-
Swift. "Yet in king George's reign Oxford was in-
sulted with troops, for no manner of cause but their
steadiness to the church."
P. 701. Burnet, speaking of king James's proceed-
ings against the universities, and that several of the
clergy wrote over to the prince of Orange to engage
in their quarrel, adds-"When that was communi-
cated to me I was still of opinion that this was an
act of despotic and arbitrary power; yet I did not
think it struck at the whole, so that it was not in
my opinion a lawful case of resistance." -Swift.
"He was a better Tory than I if he spoke as he
thought."
Ibid. Burnet. "The main difference between the
Presbyterians and the Independents was, that the
former seemed reconcilable to the church; for they
loved Episcopal ordination and liturgy, but the In-
dependents were for a commonwealth." - Swift.
"A damnable lie!"
P. 702. Burnet. "So the most considerable
amongst them (the dissenters) resolved not to stand
at too great a distance from the court, nor provoke
the king too far so as to give him cause to think they
were irreconcilable to him, lest they should provoke
him to take up matters at any time with the church-
party."-Swift. "Another piece of dissimulation.'
Burnet. "The king's choice of Palmer, earl of
Castlemain, was liable to great exceptions; for as he
was believed to be a Jesuit, he was certainly as hot
and eager in all high notions as any of them could
be. The Romans were amazed when they heard
he was to be the person. His misfortunes were so
eminent and public that they who take their mea-
sures much from astrology, and from the characters
they think are fixed on men, thought it strange to
see such a negotiation put into the hands of so un-
lucky a man."-Swift. "This man was the duchess.
of Cleveland's husband.”
P. 710. Burnet. "The restless spirit of some of
that religion (popery), and of their clergy in par-
ticular, showed that they could not be quiet till they
were masters. Swift. "All sects are of that spirit.”
P. 726. Burnet. When king James memorialised
the States to deliver up Burnet, he says, "I argued
that, being now naturalised in Holland, my allegi-
ance was during my stay in those parts transferred
from his majesty to the States.”—Swift. "Civilians
deny that; but I agree with him."
P. 727. Burnet. "I now come to the year 1688,
which proved memorable, and produced an extraor-
dinary unheard-of revolution."Swift. "The devil's
in that! Sure all Europe heard of it.”
P. 746. Burnet. "But, after all, the soldiers
were bad Englishmen, and worse Christians; yet
the court of James II. found them too good Pro-
testants to trust much to them."-Swift.
"Special
doctrine!"
P. 752. Burnet, doubting of the legitimacy of the
pretender and describing the queen's manner of
lying-in, says, "all this while the queen lay in bed;
and in order to the warming one side of it, a warm-
ing-pan was brought, but it was not opened that it
might be seen whether there was any fire in it.".
Swift. "This the ladies say is very foolish."
P. 762. Burnet. "The earl of Shrewsbury seemed
to be a man of great probity, and to have a high
sense of honour."-Swift.
·Swift. "Quite the contrary.”
HISTORY OF HIS OWN TIMES.
569
P. 763. Burnet. "Russell told me that on his re-
turn to England from Holland he communicated his
design (relative to the revolution) to lord Lumley,
who was a late convert from popery and had stood
out very firmly all this reign. He was a man who
had his interest much to heart, and he resolved to
"He was a
embark deep in this design."-Swift.
knave and a coward."
Ibid. Burnet. “But the man in whose hands the
conduct of the whole design was chiefly deposited,
by the prince's own order, was Mr. Sydney, brother
to the earl of Leicester, and Mr. Algernon Sydney.
He was a graceful man and had lived long in the
court, where he had some adventures that became
very public. He was a man of sweet and caressing
temper." Swift. "An idle, drunken, ignorant
rake, without sense, truth, or honour."
P. 764. Burnet. "But because Mr. Sydney was
lazy, and the business required an active man, who
could run about and write over full and long ac-
counts, I recommended a kinsman of my own, John-
ston, whom I had formed and knew to be both
faithful and diligent.”—Swift. "An arrant Scotch
rogue."
P. 765. Burnet. "Lord Churchill (afterwards
duke of Marlborough) was a man of a noble and
graceful appearance, bred up in the court with no
literature; but he had a solid and clear understand-
ing, with a constant presence of mind. He knew
the arts of living in a court better than any man in
it. He caressed all people with a soft and obliging
deportment, and was always ready to do good offices.
He had no fortune to set up on. This put him on
all the methods of acquiring one, and that went so
far into him that he did not shake it off when he
was in a much higher elevation; nor were his ex-
penses suited enough to his posts; but when allow-
ances are made for that, it must be acknowledged
that he is one of the greatest men the age has pro-
duced."-Swift. "A composition of perfidiousness
and avarice."
:
Ibid. Burnet, still speaking of lord Church-
ill "he was very doubtful of the pretended birth;
so he resolved when the prince should come over
to go to him, but to betray no post nor any-
thing more than withdrawing himself with such
officers as he could trust with such a secret."-Swift.
"What could he do more to a mortal enemy?"
P. 772. Burnet. "The king of France thought
himself tied by no peace, but that when he suspected
his neighbours were intending to make war upon
him he might, upon such a suspicion, begin a war
upon his part."-Swift. "The common maxim of
princes."
P. 782. Burnet. "The morning the prince of
Orange embarked for England he took God to wit-
ness that he went to that country with no other in-
tentions but those he had set out in his declaration."
Swift. "Then he was perjured; for he designed
to get the crown, which he denied in the declaration."
P. 783. Burnet. After describing the storm which
put back the prince of Orange's fleet, he observes,
"in France and England they triumphed, believing
it to be a miracle; we on the contrary looked upon
it as a mark of God's great care to be delivered out
of so great a storm."-Swift. "Then still it must be
a miracle."
P. 785. Burnet. "When matters were coming to
a crisis at the Revolution an order was sent to the
bishop of Winchester to put the president of Mag-
dalen College again into possession, but when the
court heard the prince's fleet was blown back the
order was countermanded."-Swift. "The bishop of
Winchester assured me otherwise."
Ibid. Burnet. "And now the court thought it ne-.
cessary, as an after-game, to offer some satisfaction
on the point of the legitimacy of the prince of
Wales."-Swift. "And this was the proper time.”
P. 786. "The princess Anne was not present at
the queen's delivery; she excused herself thinking
she was breeding, and all motion was forbidden her;
but none believed this to be the true reason.'
Swift. "I have reason to believe this to be true of
the princess Anne.”
""
P. 790. Burnet. "The prince of Orange's army
staid a week at Exeter before any of the gentlemen
Every day some person
of the county came in to us.
of condition came to us from other parts. The first
were the lord Colchester, the eldest son of the earl
of Powis, and the lord Wharton."-Swift. "Famous
for his cowardice in the rebellion."
P. 791. Burnet. "Soon after that prince George,
the duke of Ormond, and the lord Drumlanerick,
the duke of Queensberry's eldest son, left king
James and came over to the prince."-Swift. "Yet
how has he been rewarded for this?
""
P. 792. Burnet. "In a little while a small army
was formed about the princess Anne, who chose to
be commanded by the bishop of London, of which
he too easily accepted."-Swift. "And why should
he not?
Ibid. Burnet. "A foolish ballad was made about
this time treating the papists, and chiefly the Irish,
in a very ridiculous manner, which had a burthen,
said to be Irish words, Lero, Lero, Lillibulero,'
that made an impression on the army that cannot
well be imagined by those who saw it not."-Swift.
"They are not Irish words, but better than Scotch."
P. 796. Burnet, speaking of king James's first
attempt to leave the kingdom, says, "With this his
reign ended; for it was a plain desertion of his peo-
ple, and exposing the nation to the pillage of an
army which he had ordered the earl of Feversham
to disband."-Swift. "An abominable assertion,
and false consequences."
P. 797. Burnet. "The incident of the king's
being retaken at Faversham gave rise to the party
of Jacobites, for if he had got clear away he would
not have had a party left; all would have agreed it
was a desertion, and therefore the nation was free
and at liberty to secure itself; but what followed
upon this gave them a colour to say, 'he was forced
away, and driven out.""-Swift. "So he most cer-
tainly was, both now and afterwards."
P. 798. Burnet. "Jefferies, finding the king was
gone, saw what reason he had to look to himself,
and apprehending that he was now exposed to the
rage of the people whom he had provoked with a
particular brutality, he had disguised himself to
make his escape, but he fell into the hands of some
who knew him, aud was insulted by them with as
much scorn and rudeness as they could invent. After
many hours tossing him about he was carried to the
lord mayor, whom they charged to commit him to
the Tower, which the lord Lucas had then seized
and in it had declared for the prince. The lord-
mayor was so struck with the terror of this rude
populace and with the disgrace of a man who had
made all people tremble before him that he fell into
fits upon it, of which he died soon after."-Swift.
"When Jefferies was committed to the Tower he
took to drinking strong liquors, which he occasion-
ally did when in power, but now increased his habit
most inordinately, with a view to put an end to his
life, which it soon did."
P. 799. Burnet. "When I had the first account
of king James's flight I was affected with this dismal
reverse of the fortune of a great prince more than
570
REMARKS ON BURNET'S
I think fit to express."-Swift. "Or than I will be-
lieve."
P. 800. Burnet, speaking of the dilemma the
prince of Orange was in about the king, upon his
being brought from Feversham, says "It was thought
necessary to stick to the point of the king's desert-
ing his people, and not to give up that by entering
into any treaty with him."-Swift. "Base and vil-
lanous."
P. 803. Burnet. "Now that the prince was come
all the bodies about the town came to welcome him.
The bishops came the next day (the archbishop of
Canterbury excepted). The clergy of London came
next. The city and a great many other bodies came
likewise, and expressed a great deal of joy for the
deliverance wrought for them by the prince's means.
Old serjeant Maynard came with the men of the
law. He was then near ninety, and yet he said the
liveliest thing that was heard of on that occasion.
The prince took notice of his great age, and said
'that he had outlived all the men of the law of his
time' he answered he had like to have outlived
the law itself if his highness had not come over.'
-Swift. "Maynard was an old rogue for all that.”
P. 805. Burnet, speaking of the first effects of the
Revolution upon the presbyterians in Scotland, says
"They broke in upon the episcopal clergy with
great violence and much cruelty; they tore their
gowns and drove them from their churches and
houses.”—Swift. "To reward them for which king
William abolished episcopacy."
Ibid. Burnet. "The episcopal party in Scotland
saw themselves under a great cloud, so they resolved
all to adhere to the earl of Dundee, who had served
some years in Holland, and was a man of good
parts and some valuable virtues, but was proud and
ambitious, and had taken a violent hatred to the
whole presbyterian party."-Swift. "He was the
best man in Scotland."
P. 807. Burnet. "Those who were employed by
Tyrconnel to deceive the prince made an application
to sir William Temple, who had a long and esta-
blished credit with him."-Swift.
Swift. "A lie of a Scot
for sir William Temple to my knowledge did not
know Tyrconnel.”
;
P. 811. Burnet, speaking of the various opinions
then agitated relative to the settlement of the state-
"Some were of opinion that king James had by his
ill administration of the government brought him-
self into an incapacity of holding the exercise of the
sovereign authority any more in his own hand;
but as in the case of lunatics, the right still remained
in him, only the guardianship, or the exercise of it
was to be lodged with a prince-regent; so that the
right of sovereignty should be owned to remain still
in the king, and that the exercise of it should be
vested in the prince of Orange, as prince-regent."-
Swift. "A regency certainly was by much the best
expedient."
Ibid. Burnet. "The third party was made up of
those who thought there was an original contract
between the king and the people of England, by
which the kings were bound to defend their people
and govern them according to law; in lieu of which
the people were bound to obey and serve the king."
-Swift. "I am of this party, and yet I would have
been for a regency."
P. 813. Burnet. "This scheme of a regency was
both more illegal and more unsafe than the method
they proposed. The law of England had settled the
point of the subject's security in obeying the king in
possession by the statute of Henry VII.
man knew he was safe under a king, and so would
act with zeal and courage; but all such as should act
So every
under a prince-regent, created by this convention,
were upon a bottom that had not the necessary forms
of law for it."-Swift.
Swift. "There is something in this
argument."
P. 816. Burnet. "It was proposed that the birth
of the pretended prince might be examined into,
and I was ordered to gather together all the pre-
sumptive proofs that were formerly mentioned: it is
true these did not amount to a full and legal proof;
yet they seemed to be such violent presumptions
that when they were all laid together they were
more convincing than plain and downright evidence,
for that was liable to the suspicion of subornation,
whereas the other seemed to carry on them very
convincing characters of truth and conformity.".
Swift. "Well said, bishop."
P. 817. Burnet. "Some people thought it would
be a good security for the nation to have a dormant
title to the crown lie as it were neglected, to oblige
our princes to govern well, while they would appre-
hend the danger of a revolt to a pretender still in
their eye."-Swift. "I think this was no ill design,
yet it hath not succeeded in mending kings.”
P. 819. Burnet. "The princess continued all the
while in Holland, being shut in there by the east
winds and by the freezing of the rivers, so that she
came not to England till the debates were over."
Swift. "Why was she sent for till the matter was
agreed? This clearly shows the prince's original
design was to be king, against what he professed in
his declaration."
P. 824. Burnet. "A pamphlet was published at
this time (1689), which was laid thus: The prince
had a just cause of making war on the king.' In
that most of them agreed. In a just war, which is
an appeal to God, success is considered as the de-
cision of Heaven; so the prince's success against
king James gave him the right of conquest over
him, and by it all his rights were transferred to the
prince."-Swift. "The author wrote a paper to
prove this. It was burnt by the hangman, and was
a very foolish scheme."
P. 525. Burnet (second volume), speaking of the
act for the general naturalization of protestants, and
the opposition made against it by the high church,
adds, "It was at last carried in the house of com-
mons by a great majority; but all those who ap-
peared for this large and comprehensive way were
reproached for their coldness and indifference in the
concerns of the church; and in that I had a large
share."-Swift. "Dog!"
P. 526. Burnet. "The faction here found out
proper instruments to set the same humour on foot
in Ireland during the last of Rochester's govern-
ment, and as it was said by his directions. So the
clergy were making the same bold claims there that
had raised disputes amongst us."-Swift. "Dog!
dog! dog!"
P. 580. Burnet. "One Prior, who had been
Jersey's secretary, upon his death was employed to
prosecute that peace which his principal did not
live to finish. Prior had been taken a boy out of
a tavern by the earl of Dorset, who accidentally
found him reading Horace, and he being very gene-
rous gave him an education in literature.”—Swift.
"Malice!"
P. 581. Burnet. "Many mercenary pens were set
at work to justify our proceedings and to defame
our allies, more particularly the Dutch. This was
done with much art but with no regard to truth, in
a pamphlet entitled The Conduct of the Allies,
and of the late Ministry.'"-Swift. "It was all
true."
P. 582. Burnet. "The Jacobites did with the
10
HISTORY OF HIS OWN TIMES.
571
greater joy entertain this prospect of peace, because
the dauphin had, in a visit to St. Germaine, con-
gratulated that court upon it, which made them
conclude it was to have a happy effect with re-
lation to the pretender's affairs."-Swift.
"The
queen hated and despised the pretender to my
knowledge."
P. 583. Burnet. "In a conference I had with the
queen on the subject of peace, she hoped bishops
would not be against peace.' I said a good peace
was what we prayed for; but any treaty by which
Spain and the West Indies were left to king Philip
must in a little time deliver all Europe into the
hands of France; and if any such peace could be
made she was betrayed and we were all ruined; in
less than three years time she would be murdered,
and the fires would again be raised in Smithfield."
-Swift. “A false prophet in every particular.”
P. 589. Burnet. "The queen having sent a mes-
sage to the lords to adjourn, it was debated that the
queen could not send a message to any one house
to adjourn when the like message was not sent to
both houses. The pleasure of the prince in con-
vening, dissolving, proroguing, or ordering the ad-
journment of parliament, was always directed to
both houses, but never to one house without the
same intimation being given to the other."-Swift. |
"Modern nonsense."
P. 591. Burnet. "The house of commons, after
their recess, entered on the observations of the com-
missioners for taking the public accounts, and began
with Walpole (sir Robert Walpole), whom they re-
solved to put out of the way of disturbing them in
the house. The thing laid to his charge stood thus:
after he, as secretary at war, had contracted with
some for forage to the horse that lay in Scotland, he,
finding that the two persons who had contracted for
it made some gain by it, named a friend of his own
as a third person, that he might have a share in the
gain; but the other two had no mind to let him in
to know the secret of their management, so they
offered him five hundred pounds for his share: he
accepted it, and the money was remitted. But they
not knowing his address directed their bill to Wal-
pole, who indorsed it, and the person concerned re-
ceived the money. This transaction was found out,
and Walpole was charged with it, as a bribe that he
had taken for his own use for making the contract.
Both the persons that remitted the money and he
who received it were examined, and affirmed that
Walpole was neither directly or indirectly concerned
in the matter; but the house insisted upon his
having indorsed the bill, and not only voted this a
corruption, but sent him to the Tower and expelled
him the house."-Swift. "Walpole
"Walpole began early,
and has been thriving in this business twenty-seven
years, up to January, 1739.”
P. 609. Burnet. "A new set of addresses ran
about. Some mentioned the protestant succession
and the house of Hanover with zeal, others more
coldly, and some made no mention at all of it; and
it was universally believed that no addresses were
so acceptable to the minister as those of the last
sort."-Swift. "Foolish and factious."
P. 610. Burnet. "The duke of Ormond had
given the States such assurances of his going along
with them through the whole campaign that he was
let into the secrets of all their councils, which by
that confidence were all known to the French; and
if the auxiliary German troops had not been pre-
pared to disobey his orders it was believed he, in
conjunction with the French army, would have
forced the states to come into the new measures;
but that was happily prevented."-Swift. "Vile
-Swift. "Vile
Scotch dog! how does he dare to touch Ormond's
honour so falsely?"
P. 669. Burnet, speaking of the progress of his
own life, says, "The pleasures of sense I did soon
nauseate."-Swift. "Not so soon with the wine
of some elections.'
"
Here end the remarks on bishop Burnet's History
of his own Times, but opposite to the title page of
"The Life of the Author, by Thomas Burnet, esq.,"
and in the Life, are the following remarks :—
Opposite to the title-page.-Swift. "A rude. vio-
lent, party business.”
In the Life, p. 722. Thomas Burnet. "The cha-
racter I have given of his wives will scarce make it
an addition to his character that he was a most affec-
tionate husband. His tender care of the first during
a course of sickness that lasted for many years, and
his fond love of the other two, and the deep concern
he expressed for their loss, were no more than their
just due from one of his humanity, gratitude, and
discernment."-Swift. "What! only three wives!”
P. 723. Thomas Burnet. "The bishop was a kind
and bountiful master to his servants, whom he never
changed but with regret and through necessity;
friendly and obliging to all in employment under
him, and peculiarly happy in the choice of them;
particularly in that of the steward to the bishopric
and his courts, William Wastefield, esq. (a gentle-
man of a plentiful fortune at the time of his accept-
ing this post), and in that of his domestic steward
Mr. Macknay."-Swift. "A Scot; his own coun-
tryman."
REMARKS ON THE
CHARACTERS OF THE COURT
OF QUEEN ANNE.
The original Characters are printed in roman; Swift's remarks
in italics.
THESE Characters, drawn up in the name of John Macky (but
written by Mr. Davis, an officer in the customs), were aunexed
to "Memoirs of the Secret Services of John Macky, esq., dur-
ing the reigns of king William, queen Anne, and king George
I." printed in 1739, from a MS. said to be attested by his son,
Spring Macky, esq.
Dr. Swift's notes are transcribed from a copy formerly be-
longing to John Putland, esq., a near relation to the dean, who
took them from Swift's own handwriting.
DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.
A TALL handsome man for his age, with a very
obliging address; of a wonderful presence of mind,
so as hardly ever to be discomposed; of a very clear
head and sound judgment; every way capable of being
a great man if the great success of his arms and the
heaps of favours thrown upon him by his sovereign
do not raise his thoughts above the rest of the no-
bility, and consequently draw upon him the envy of
the people of England. He is turned fifty years of
age.-Detestably covetous.
DUKE OF ORMOND.
With all the qualities of a great man except that
of a statesman, hating business.
He is about forty
years of age.—Fairly enough writ.
DUKE OF SHREWSBURY.
Never was a greater mixture of honour, virtue
[none], and good sense in any one person than in him:
a great man, attended with a sweetness of behaviour
and easiness of conversation which charms all who
come near him; nothing of the stiffness of a states-
man, yet the capacity and knowledge of a piercing
wit. He speaks French and Italian as well as his
572
REMARKS ON THE CHARACTERS
native language; and although but one eye yet he
has a most charming countenance, and is the most
generally beloved by the ladies of any gentleman in
his time. He is turned of forty years old.
DUKE OF SOMERSET
Is of a middle stature, well shaped, a very black
complexion, a lover of music and poetry; of good
judgment [not a grain; hardly common sense]; but
by reason of a great hesitation in his speech wants
expression. He is about forty-two years old.
DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE
Has been the finest and handsomest gentleman of his
time; loves the ladies and plays; keeps a noble
house and equipage; is tall, well made, and of a
princely behaviour; of nice honour in everything
but the paying his tradesmen. Past sixty years old.
-A very poor understanding.
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.
MARQUIS OF HARRINGTON.
One of the best beloved gentlemen by the country
party in England.—A very poor understanding.
LORD SOMERS.
Of a creditable family in the city of Worcester.
|│[Very mean; his father was a noted rogue.] He is
believed to have been the best chancellor that ever
sat in the chair.-I allow him to have possessed all
excelient qualifications except virtue; he had violent
passions, and hardly subdued them by his great
prudence.
LORD HALIFAX.
He is a great encourager of learning and learned
men; is the patron of the muses; of very agreeable
conversation; a short fair man, not forty years old.
-His encouragements were only good words and good
dinners. I never heard him say one good thing, or
scem to taste what was said by another.
EARL OF DORSET.
He is a nobleman of learning and good natural
parts, but of no principles; violent for the high
One of the finest gentlemen in England in the
church, yet seldom goes to it; very proud, insolent, reign of king Charles II., of great learning [small or
and covetous; and takes all advantages.-This cha-none], extremely witty, and has been the author of
racter is the truest of any.
EARL OF NOTTINGHAM.
He has the exterior air of business, and applica-
tion enough to make him very capable; in his habit
and manners very formal; a tall, thin, very black
man, like a Spaniard or Jew; about fifty years old.
-He fell in with the Whigs; was an endless talker.
EARL OF ROMNEY.
He was the great wheel on which the Revolution
rolled. [Ile had not a wheel to turn a mouse.] Of
great honour and honesty, with a moderate capacity.
-None at all.
DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.
He has one only daughter, who will be the richest
heiress in Europe.-Now countess of Oxford; cheated
by her father.
DUKE OF RICHMOND.
He is a gentleman good-natured to a fault; very
well bred, and has many valuable things in him; is
an enemy to business; very credulous; well shaped,
black complexion, much like king Charles ; not
thirty years old.-A shallow coxcomb.
DUKE OF BOLTON
|
some of the finest poems in the English language,
especially satire; the Mæcenas and prince of our
in the world when he likes his company [not of late
English poets; one of the pleasantest companions
years, but a very dull one]. He is very fat, troubled
with the spleen, and turned of fifty years old.
EARL RIVERS.
He was one of the greatest rakes in England in
his younger days; but always a lover of the consti-
tution of his country: is a gentleman of very good
sense, and very cunning; brave in his person, a
lover of play, and understands it perfectly well; has
a very good estate, and improves it every day; some-
thing covetous; is a tall handsome man, and of a
very fair complexion. He is turned of forty years
old.-An arrant knave in common dealings, and very
prostitute.
EARL OF PORTLAND.
He is supposed to be the richest subject in Europe; -
very profuse in gardening, birds, and household fur-
niture, but mighty frugal in everything else; of a
very lofty mien, and yet not proud; of no deep un-
derstanding, considering his experience; neither
much beloved nor hated by any sort of people, Eng.
Does not make any figure at court.-Nor anywhere lish or Dutch. He is turned of fifty years old.-
else. A great booby.
As great a dunce as ever I knew.
DUKE OF NORTHUMBERLAND.
He is a man of honour, nice in paying his debts;
and living well with his neighbours in the country,
does not much care for the conversation of men of
quality or business; is a tall black man, like his
father the king; about forty years old.-He was a
most worthy person, very good-natured, and had very
good sense.
DUKE OF GRAFTON.
Grandson to king Charles II.; a very pretty gen-
tleman; has been abroad in the world; zealous for
the constitution of his country; a tall black man,
about twenty-five years old.-Almost a slobberer,
without one good quality.
SIR NATHAN WRIGHTE, Lord-keeper,
Is son of a clergyman; a good common lawyer, a
slow chancellor, and no civilian. Chance, more than
choice, brought him the seals.-Very covetous.
JOHN [RALPII] DUKE OF MONTAGU.
Since the queen's accession to the throne he has
been created a duke, and is now sixty years old.-
As arrant a knave as any in his time.
Ilis father was rector of Thurcaston, in Leicestershire.
EARL OF DERBY.
On his brother's death he came to the house of
peers, where he never will make any great figure,
the sword being more his profession: he is a fair-
complexioned man, well shaped, taller than the
ordinary size, and a man of honour. He is turned
of forty years old.-As arrant a ********* as his
brother.
EARL OF PETERBOROUGH.
He affects popularity, and loves to preach in coffee-
houses and public places; is an open enemy to re-
vealed religion; brave in his person; has a good
estate; does not seem expensive, yet always in debt,
and very poor. A well-shaped thin man, with a
very brisk look, near fifty years old. This character
is for the most part true.
EARL OF SUNDERLAND.
This gentleman is endued with a great deal of
learning, virtue [no], and good sense [no]; very
honest; and zealous for the liberty of the people.
EARL OF STAMFORD
Is one of the branches of the Greys, a noble family
in England. He does not want sense; but by reason
of a defect in his speech wants elocution; is a very
OF THE COURT OF QUEEN ANNE.
573
honest man himself, but very suspicious of every-
body that is not of his party, for which he is very
zealous; jealous of the power of the clergy, who he
is afraid may some time or other influence our civil
government. From a good estate he is become very
poor, and much in debt; he is something above the
middle stature, and turned of fifty years old.—He
looked and talked like a very weak man; but it was
said he spoke well in council.
EARL OF THANET.
He is a good country gentleman, a great assertor
of the prerogatives of the monarchy and the church;
a thin, tall, black, red-faced man, turned of sixty
years old. Of great piety and charity.
EARL OF SANDWICH.
Of very ordinary parts; married the witty lord
Rochester's daughter, who makes him very ex-
pensive; a tall, thin, black man, about thirty-five
years old.-As much a puppy as ever I saw; very
ugly, and a fop.
EARL OF RANELAGH.
He is a bold man and very happy in jests and
repartees, and has often turned the humour of the
house of commons when they have designed to have
been very severe. He is very fat, black, and turned
of sixty years old.-The vainest old fool I ever saw.
LORD LUCAS.
He is every way a plain man, yet took a great
deal of pains to seem knowing and wise; everybody
pitied him when the queen turned him out for his
seeming good nature and real poverty: he is very
fat, very expensive, and very poor; turned of fifty
years old. A good plain humdrum.
EARL WINCHELSEA.
and
He loves jests and puns [I never observed it], an
that sort of low wit; is of short stature, well shaped,
with a very handsome countenance.-Being very
poor he complied too much with the party he hated.
LORD POULET OF HINTON.
He is certainly one of the hopefullest gentlemen
in England; is very learned, virtuous, and a man of
honour; much esteemed in the country for his ge-
nerous way of living with the gentry, and his charity
to the poorest sort. He makes but a mean figure in
his person, is of a middle stature, fair complexion,
not handsome, nor thirty years old. This character
is fair enough.
LORD TOWNSHEND.
Is a gentleman of great learning, attended with a
sweet disposition; a lover of the constitution of his
country; is beloved by everybody that knows him
[I except one] and when once employed in the ad-
ministration of public affairs may show himself a
great man. He is tall and handsome; about thirty
years old.
LORD DARTMOUTH.
He sets up for a critic in conversation; makes
jests and loves to laugh at them; takes a great deal
of pains in his office, and is in a fair way of rising at
court ; is a short, thick man, of a fair complexion,
turned of thirty-four years old.-This is fair enough
writ; but he has little sincerity.
LORD WHARTON.
One of the completest gentlemen in England; has
a very clear understanding and manly expression,
with abundance of wit. He is brave in his person,
much of a libertine, of middle stature, fair com-
plexion, and fifty years old.-The most universal
villain I ever knew.
LORD MAHON.
He is brave in his person, bold in his expressions,
by acts of honesty, which he now glories in more
than he was formerly extravagant.-IIe was little
better than a conceited talker in company.
EARL OF KENT.
Is the first branch of the ancient family of Grey.
The present gentleman was much esteemed when
lord Ruthen; was always very moderate, has good
sense, and a good estate, which, with his quality,
must make him always bear a considerable figure in
the nation; he is a handsome man, not above forty
years old. He seems a good-natured man, but of
very little consequence.
EARL OF LINDSAY,
A fine gentleman, has both wit and learning.—1
never observed a grain of either.
EARL OF ABINGDON.
A gentleman of fine parts, makes a good figure in
the counties of Oxford and Buckingham; is very
high for the monarchy and church; of a black com-
plexion; past forty years old.-Very covetous.
EARL OF CHESTERField.
He is very subtle and cunning, never entered into
the measures of king William, nor ever will, in any
probability, make any great appearance in any other
reign. He is above sixty years old.-If it be old
Chesterfield, I have heard he was the greatest knave
in England.
EARL OF BERKELEY.
A gentleman of learning, parts, and a lover of the
constitution of his country: a short, fat man, fifty
years old. Intolerably lazy and indolent and some-
what covetous.
EARL OF FEVERSHAM.
A third son of the family of Duras in France; he
came over with one of the duke of York's family; is
a middle-statured, brown man, turned of fifty years
old. He was a very dull old fellow.
EARL OF GRANTHAM.
He is a very pretty gentleman, fair complexioned,
and past thirty years old.-And good for nothing.
LORD DE LA WARR.
A free jolly gentleman, turned of forty years old.
-Of very little sense; but formal and well stocked
with the low kind of lowest politics.
LORD LEXINGTON.
He is of good understanding and very capable to
be in the ministry; a well-bred gentleman and an
agreeable companion; handsome; of a brown com-
plexion; forty years old.-A very moderate degree of
understanding.
LORD GREY OF WERK.
A sweet disposed gentleman; he joined king Wil-
liam at the Revolution, and is a zealous assertor of
the liberties of the people: a thin, brown, handsome
man, middle stature, turned of forty years old.— Had
very little in him.
LORD CHANDOS.
Mr.
Was warm against king William's reign and does
not make any great figure in this; but his son,
Bridges [afterward duke of Chandos] does; being a
member of the house of commons, one of the coun-
sellors to the prince, and a very worthy gentleman.
-But a great complier with every court.
LORD GUILDFORD.
Is son to the lord-keeper North, has been abroad,
does not want sense nor application to business, and
his genius leads him that way. He is fat, fair, of
middle stature, and past thirty years old.-A mighty
silly fellow.
LORD GRIFFIN,
and rectifies, as fast as he can, the slips of his youth, Having followed king James's fortunes, is now in
574
REMARKS ON THE CHARACTERS
France. He was always a great sportsman, and
brave; a good companion, turned of sixty years old.
-His son was a plain drunken fellow.
LORD CHOLMONDELEY.
This lord is a great lover of country sports; is
handsome in his person, and turned of forty years old.
-Good for nothing, as far as ever I knew.
LORD BUTLER OF WESTON,
Earl of Arran in Ireland, and brother to the duke of
Ormond; of very good sense, though seldom shows
it; of a fair complexion, middle stature, toward
forty years old.—This is right; but he is the most
negligent of his own affairs.
MR. MANSEL.
He is a gentleman of a good deal of wit and good
nature; a lover of the ladies, and a pleasant com-
panion; is very thin, of a fair complexion, middle
stature, and turned of thirty years old. Of very
good nature, but a very moderate capacity.
ROBERT HARLEY, Esq.,
Speaker of the house of commons.
He is skilled in most things, and very eloquent
[a great lie]; was bred a presbyterian, yet joins with
the church party in everything and they do nothing
without him.
MR. BOYLE,
Chancellor of the exchequer,
Is a good companion in conversation; agreeable
among the ladies; serves the queen very assiduously
in council; makes a considerable figure in the house
of commons; by his prudent administration obliges
everybody in the exchequer; and in time may prove
a great man. Is turned of thirty years old.-Had
some very scurvy qualities, particularly avarice.
SIR THOMAS FRANKLAND,
Postmaster-general.
He is a gentleman of a very sweet, easy, affable
disposition; of good sense, extremely zealous for the
constitution of his country, yet does not seem over
forward; keeps an exact unity among the officers
under him, and encourages them in their duty,
through a peculiar familiarity, by which he obliges
them and keeps up the dignity of being master. He
is a handsome man, middle stature, toward forty
years old.-A fair character.
MR. SMITH,
One of her majesty's privy-council.
A gentleman of much honour; a lover of the con-
stitution of his country; a very agreeable companion
in conversation; a bold orator in the house of com-
mons, when the interest of his country is at stake;
of a good address, middle stature, fair complexion,
turned of forty years old.—I thought him a very
heavy man.
CHARLES D'AVENANT, LI..D.
He was very poor at the Revolution; had no
business to support him all the reign of king Wil-
liam; yet made a good figure. He is a very
cloudy-looked man, fat, of middle stature, about
fifty years old.—He was used ill by most ministers ;
he ruined his estate, which put him under a necessity
to comply with the times.
MATTHEW PRIOR, Esq.,
Commissioner of trade.
On the queen's accession to the throne he was
continued in his office; is very well at court with
the ministry, and is an entire creature of my lord
Jersey's, whom he supports by his advice is one of
the best poets in England, but very factious in con-
versation; a thin, hollow-looked man, turned of
forty years old.-This is near the truth.
• He was one time speaker of the house of commons,
THOMAS TENISON,
Archbishop of Canterbury.
A plain, good, heavy man, now much in years,
and wearing out; very tall, of a fair complexion,
and seventy years old.-The most good-for-nothing
prelate I ever knew.
GILBERT BURNET,
Bishop of Salisbury.
Of a very good family in Scotland, of the name of
Burnet; his father was lord [laird] of Cremont. He
is one of the greatest [Scotch] orators of the age he
lives in. His History of the Reformation, and his
Exposition of the Thirty-nine Articles, show him to
be a man of great learning; but several of his other
works show him to be a man neither of prudence
nor temper; his sometimes opposing and sometimes
favouring the dissenters, has much exposed him to
the generality of the people of England; yet he is
very useful in the house of peers, and proves a great
pillar, both of the civil and ecclesiastical constitu-
tion, against the encroachments of a party that
would destroy both. He is a large, bold-looked
man, strong made, and turned of fifty years old.-
His characters are miserably wrought, in many things
mistaken, and all of them detracting, excepting of
those who were friends to the presbyterians. His
own true character would take up too much time for
me (who knew him well) to describe it.
GEORGE STEPNEY, Esq.,
Envoy extraordinary to the Emperor.
A gentleman of admirable natural parts, very
learned, one of the best poets [scarce of a third rate]
now in England, and perhaps equal to any that ever
was.
MR. METHUEN,
Ambassador to the king of Portugal.
A man of intrigue, but very muddy in his concep-
tions, and not quickly understood in anything. In
his complexion and manners much of a Spaniard; a
tall, black man, fifty years old.-A profligate rogue,
without religion or morals; but cunning enough, ye
without abilities of any kind.
LORD RABY,
Envoy extraordinary to the king of Prussia.
He is a young gentleman de bon naturel, hand-
some, of fine understanding [very bad, and cannot
spell], and with application may prove a man of
business he is of low stature [he is tall], well
shaped, with a good face, fair complexioned, not
thirty years old.
MR. HILL,
Envoy extraordinary to the duke of Savoy,
Is a gentleman of good family in Shropshire. He was
designed for the church, and took deacon's [priest's]
orders, but having a genius for business, and falling
into the acquaintance of my lord Ranelagh when
tutor to my lord Hyde, he was sent into Flanders as
paymaster-general to the English troops there. He is
a gentleman of very clear parts, and affects plainness
and simplicity [au contraire] in his dress and con-
versation particularly. He is a favourite to both
parties [to neither], and is beloved for his easy access
and affable way by those he has business to do with.
He is a thin tall man [short, if I remember right],
taller than the ordinary stature, near fifty years old.
SIR LAMBERT BLACKWELL.,
Envoy to the great duke of Tuscany.
He affects much the gentleman in his dress, and
the minister in his conversation; is very lofty, yet
courteous when he knows his people; much envied
by his fellow-merchants; of a sanguine complexion,
taller than the ordinary size, about forty years old.-
He seemed to be a very good-natured man.
OF THE COURT OF QUEEN ANNE.
575
MR. (DR.) AGLIONBY,
Envoy to the Swiss Cantons.
He has abundance of wit, and understands most
of the modern languages well; knows how to tell a
story to the best advantage, but has an affected man-
ner of conversation; is thin, splenetic, and tawny
complexioned, turned of sixty years old. He had
been a papist.
MR. D'AVENANT,
Agent at Frankfort.
་
A very giddy-headed young fellow, with some wit,
about twenty-five years old.-He is not worth men-
tioning.
LORD CUTTS.
He has abundance of wit, but too much seized
with vanity and self-conceit; he is affable, familiar,
and very brave; towards fifty years old.-The vainest
old fool alive.
LORD GALLWAY.
kirk, Orkney, and Ruglen; a fourth a commander
at sea he is of a middle stature, well made, of a
black, coarse complexion, a brisk look; toward fifty
years old. He was made master of the ordnance; a
worthy good-natured person, very generous, but of a
middle understanding: he was murdered by that vil-
lain Macartney, an Irish Scot.
DUKE OF ARGYLL.
Few of his years have a better understanding, nor
a more manly behaviour. He has seen most of the
courts of Europe; is very handsome in his person,
fair complexioned; about twenty-five years old.-
Ambitious, covetous, cunning Scot; has no principle
but his own interest and greatness. A true Scot in
his whole conduct.
MARQUIS OF MONTROSE;
Representative of the ancient and noble family of
Graham; great-grandson to the famous Montrose
who was hanged and quartered for Charles I., and
grandson by the mother to the duke of Rothes.
inherits all the great qualities of these two families,
with a sweetness of behaviour which charms all those
He
One of the finest gentlemen in the army, with a
head fitted for the cabinet as well as the camp; is
very modest, vigilant, and sincere; a man of honour
and honesty [in all directly otherwise, without pride
or affectation; wears his own hair; is plain in his
dress and manners; towards sixty years old.—A de-
ceitful, hypocritical, factious knave; a damnable hy-twenty-five years old.—Now very homely, and makes
pocrite, of no religion.
EARL OF ORKNEY.
He is a very well shaped black man; is brave;
but by reason of a hesitation in his speech wants ex-
pression: married Mrs. Villiers, and got a good es-
tate by her; is turned of forty years old.—An honest
good-natured gentleman, and has much distinguished
himself as a soldier.
SIR CHARLES HARO,
Lieutenant-general.
At the Revolution he had a company in the foot-
guards, was afterwards lieutenant-colonel to that
regiment, was made colonel to the fusileers, and
gradually advanced to the post he now has, which
he well deserves, being of good understanding and
abundance of learning; fit to command if not too
covetous: he is a short black man, fifty years old.
His father was a groom; he was a man of sense,
without one grain of honesty.
COLONEL MATTHEW_AYLMER,ª
Vice-admiral of the fleet.
He has a very good head, indefatigable and de-
signing; is very zealous for the liberty of the people;
makes a good figure in the parliament as well as the
fleet; is handsome in his person; turned of fifty years
old.-A virulent party-man, born in Ireland.
REAR-ADMIRAL BYNG
Is one of the best sailors in England and a fine gen-
tleman in everything else; of a good family and es-
tate in Bedfordshire; understands all the several
branches of the navy thoroughly; is a fair complex-
ioned man, and toward fifty years old.-Of a good
old Kentish family.
JAMES DUKE OF HAMILTON.
On the queen's accession to the throne he made
strong efforts to get into the administration, but has
not yet succeeded, though he is well received at
court; he is brave in his person, with a rough air of
boldness; of good sense, very forward and hot for
what he undertakes; ambitious and haughty; a
violent enemy; has been very extravagant in his
manner of living, but now grows covetous; he is
supposed to have some thoughts towards the crown
of England when the queen dies, being descended
from the house of Stuart and having a great interest
in that kingdom by his relations and dependants.
He has a great estate, and three brothers earls, Sel-
Afterwards lord Aylmer
who know him; has improved himself in most foreign
courts; is very beautiful in his person, and about
a sorry appearance.
EARL OF SUTHERLAND.
А very honest man; a great assertor of the liberties
of the people; has a good rough sense; is open and
free; a great lover of his bottle and his friend; brave
in his person, which he has shown in several duels;
too familiar for his quality, and often keeps company
below it; is a fat, fair-complexioned man, forty-five
years old.—A blundering, rattle-pated, drunken sot.
SECRETARY JOHNSTOUN,
Now lord-register.
He is very honest [a treacherous knave], yet some-
thing too credulous and suspicious; endued with a
great deal of learning and virtue; is above little
tricks; free from ceremony; and would not tell a lie
for the world. [One of the greatest knaves even in
Scotland.] Very knowing in the affairs of foreign
courts, and the constitution of both kingdoms; a tall,
fair man, and toward fifty years old.
MR. CARSTAIRS.
A presbyterian minister who fled from Scotland
after the insurrection for religion in the reign of
Charles II. He is the cunningest, subtle dissembler
in the world, with an air of sincerity; a dangerous
enemy, because always hid; an instance of which
was secretary Johnstoun, to whom he pretended
friendship till the very morning he gave him a blow,
though he had been worming him out of the king's
favour for many months before; he is a fat, sanguine-
complexioned, fair man, always smiling where he
sincere; turned of fifty years old.—A true character,
designs most mischief; a good friend when he is
but not strong enough by a fiftieth part.
EARL OF MARR.
He is a very good manager in his private affairs,
which were in disorder when his father died, and is
a stanch countryman; fair complexioned, low sta-
ture, and thirty years old. He is crooked; he seemed
to be a gentleman of good sense and good nature.
ANDREW FLETCHER.
A gentleman of a fair estate in Scotland, attended
with the improvement of a good education. He has
written some excellent tracts, but not published in
his name; and has a very fine genius; is a low, thin
man, brown complexion, full of fire, with a stern,
sour look, and fifty years old.-A most arrogant, con-
ceited pedant in politics; cannot endure the least con-
tradiction in any of his visions or paradoxes.
576
MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
EARL OF MIDDLETON.
He was against the violent measures of king
James's reign, and for that reason made no great
figure at court while that prince was upon the throne,
yet he continued firm to his majesty's interest to the
last; was proof against all the offers made him by
king William ; and after being frequently imprisoned
in England, followed king James to France, where
he had the chief administration given him. He is
one of the politest gentlemen in Europe; has a great
deal of wit, mixed with a sound judgment and a
very clear understanding; of an easy, indifferent
address, but a careless way of living. He is a black
man, of a middle stature, with a sanguine complex-
ion, and one of the pleasantest companions in the
world; toward sixty years old.--Sir William Tem-
ple told me he was a very valuable man and a good
scholar. I once saw him.
EARL OF WEEMS.
He has not yet been in the administration; is a
fine personage, and very beautiful; has good sense,
and is a man of honour; about thirty years old.-He
was a black man, and handsome for a Scot.
MEMOIRS
OF CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON."
COLLECTED FROM HIS OWN MATERIALS,
BY DEAN SWIFT.
THE PRINTER'S ADVERTISEMENT.
WHEN Dr. Swift was at sir Arthur Acheson's at
Markethill in the county of Armagh, an old gentle-
man was recommended to him as being a remark-
able cavalier in the reigns of Charles II., James II.,
and William III.; who had behaved with great
loyalty and bravery in Scotland during the troubles
of those reigns, but was neglected by the govern-
ment although he deserved great rewards from it.
As he was reduced in his circumstances, Dr. Swift
made him a handsome present; but said at the same
time, "Sir, this trifle cannot support you long, and
your friends may grow tired of you; therefore, I
would have you contrive some honest means of get-
ting a sum of money sufficient to put you into a way
of life of supporting yourself with independency in
your old age.” To which captain Creichton (for
that was the gentleman's name) answered, "I have
tired all my friends, and cannot expect any such ex-
traordinary favours." Then Dr. Swift replied, “Sir,
I have heard much of your adventures; that they
are fresh in your memory; that you can tell them
with great humour; and that you have taken memo-
randums of them in writing." To which the cap-
tain said, "I have; but no one can understand
them but myself." Then Dr. Swift rejoined, "Sir,
get your manuscripts, read them to me, and tell me
none but genuine stories; and then I will place
them in order for you, prepare them for the press,
and endeavour to get you a subscription among my
friends, as you may do among your own." The
captain soon after waited on the dean with his
papers, and related many adventures to him, which
the dean was so kind as to put in order of time, to
correct the style, and make a small book of, entitled
THE MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON. A
subscription was immediately set on foot by the
dean's interest and recommendation, which raised
" These Memoirs contain a most striking picture of the
spirit and calamities of those times; such a one is not to be
found in more general histories, where private distress is ab-
corbed in the fate of nations.
for the captain above 2007., and made the remaining
part of his life very happy and easy.
TO THE READER.
THE author of these memoirs, captain John Creich-
ton, is still alive, and resides in the northern parts
of this kingdom. He is a very honest and worthy
man, but of the old stamp; and it is probable that
some of his principles will not relish very well in
the present disposition of the world. His memoirs
are therefore to be received like a posthumous work,
and as containing facts which very few alive except
himself can remember; upon which account, none
of his generous subscribers are in the least answer-
able for many opinions relating to the public, both
in church and state, which he seems to justify; and
in the vindication of which, to the hazard of his life
and the loss of his fortune, he spent the most useful
part of his days. Principles, as the world goes, are
little more than fashion; and the apostle tells us
that "the fashion of this world passeth away." We
read with pleasure the memoirs of several authors
whose party we disapprove, if they be written with
nature and truth. Curious men are desirous to see
what can be said on both sides; and even the viru-
lent flat relation of Ludlow, though written in the
spirit of rage, prejudice, and vanity, does not want
its advocates. This inclines me to think that the
memoirs of captain Creichton may not be unaccept-
able to the curious of every party; because, from
my knowledge of the man and the testimony of
several considerable persons of different political
denominations, I am confident that he has not in-
serted one passage or circumstance which he did not
know, or from the best intelligence he could get be-
lieve to be true.
These memoirs are therefore offered to the world
in their native simplicity. And it was not with little
difficulty that the author was persuaded by his
friends to recollect and put them in order, chiefly
for his own justification, and partly by the importu-
nity of several eminent gentlemen who had a mind
that they should turn to some profit to the author.
The captain, having made over all his little estate
to a beloved daughter upon her marriage, on the
condition of being entertained in her house for the
small remainder of his life, has put it out of his own
power either to supply his incidental wants, to pay
some long contracted debts, or to gratify his gene-
rous nature in being further useful to his family: on
which accounts he desires to return his most humble
thanks to his worthy subscribers; and hopes they
will consider him no further than as an honest,
well-meaning man, who by his own personal cou-
rage and conduct was able to distinguish himself
under many disadvantages, to a degree that few
private lives have been attended with so many sin-
gular and extraordinary events.
Besides the great simplicity in the style and man-
ner of the author, it is a very valuable circumstance
that his plain relation corrects many mistaken pas-
sages in other historians, which have too long passed
for truths; and whoever impartially compares both
will probably decide in the captain's favour: for the
memory of old men is seldom deceived in what
passed in their youth and vigour of age: and if he
has at any time happened to be mistaken in circum-
stances of time or place (with neither of which I
can charge him), it was certainly against his will.
Some of his own personal distresses and actions
which he has related might be almost the subject
of a tragedy.
Upon the whole, comparing great things with small,
I know not any memoirs that more resemble those
MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
577
;
of Philip de Comines (which have received so uni-
versal approbation) than those of captain Creichton
which are told in a manner equally natural and
with equal appearance of truth, although, I confess,
upon affairs in a more obscure scene and of less im-
portance.
MEMOIRS, &c.
THE former part of my life having been attended
with some passages and events not very common to
men of my private and obscure condition, I have
(perhaps induced by the talkativeness of old age)
very freely and frequently communicated them to
several worthy gentlemen who were pleased to be
my friends, and some of them my benefactors.
These persons professed themselves to be so well
entertained with my story that they often wished it
could be digested into order and published to the
world; believing that such a treatise by the variety
of incidents, written in a plain unaffected style,
might be at least some amusement to indifferent
readers; of some example to those who desire
strictly to adhere to their duty and principles; and
might serve to vindicate my reputation in Scotland,
where I am well known; that kingdom having been
the chief scene of my acting, and where I have been
represented by a fanatic rebellious party as a perse-
cutor of the saints and a man of blood.
Having lost the benefit of a thorough school edu-
cation by a most indiscreet marriage in all worldly
views, although to a very good woman; and in con-
sequence thereof being forced to seek my fortune in
Scotland as a soldier, where I forgot all the little I
had learned; the reader cannot reasonably expect to
be much pleased with my style or methods or man-
ner of relating; it is enough if I never wilfully fail
in point of truth, nor offend by malice or partiality.
My memory, I thank God, is yet very perfect as to
things long past; although like an old man I retain
but little of what has happened since I grew into
years.
I am likewise very sensible of an infirmity in
many authors, who write their own memoirs and are
apt to lay too much weight upon trifles, which they
are vain enough to conceive the world to be as much
concerned in as themselves; yet I remember that
Plutarch, in his lives of great men (which I have
read in the English translation), says that the na-
ture and disposition of a man's mind may be often
better discovered by a small circumstance than by
an action or event of the greatest importance. And
besides, it is not improbable that gray hairs may
have brought upon me a vanity to desire that pos-
terity may know what manner of man I was.
But there is another point which requires a better
apology than I am able to give: a judicious reader
will be apt to censure me (and I confess with reason
enough) as guilty of a very foolish superstition in re-
lating my dreams, and how I was guided by them
with success in discovering one or two principal
covenanters. I shall not easily allow myself to be,
either by nature or education, more superstitious
than other men: but I take the truth to be this:
being then full of zeal against those enthusiastical
rebels, and better informed of their lurking-holes
than most officers in the army, this made so strong
an impression on my mind that it affected my
dreams, when I was directed to the most probable
places almost as well as if I had been awake, being
guided in the night by the same conjectures I had
made in the day. There could possibly be no more
in the matter; and God forbid I should pretend to
a spirit of divination, which would make me re-
semble those very hypocritical saints whom it was
both my duty and inclination to bring to justice, for
their many horrid blasphemies against God, rebel-
lions against their prince, and barbarities toward
their countrymen and fellow-christians.
My great-grandfather, Alexander Creichton, of
the house of Dumfries, in Scotland, in a feud be-
tween the Maxwells and the Johnstons (the chief of
the Johnstons being the lord Johnston, ancestor of
the present marquis of Annandale), siding with the
latter and having killed some of the former, was
forced to fly into Ireland, where he settled near
Kinard, then a woody country and now called Cali-
don but within a year or two, some friends and
relations of those Maxwells who had been killed in
the feud, coming over to Ireland to pursue their
revenge, lay in wait for my great-grandfather in the
wood and shot him dead as he was going to church.
This accident happened about the time that James
VI. of Scotland came to the crown of England.
:
Alexander, my great-grandfather, left two sons
and as many daughters; his eldest son John lived
till a year or two after the rebellion in 1641. His
house was the first in Ulster set upon by the Irish,
who took and imprisoned him at Dungannon; but
fortunately making his escape, he went to sir Robert
Stuart, who was then in arms for the king, and died
in the service.
This John, who was my grandfather, left two sons,
Alexander, my father, and a younger son, likewise
named John; who, being a child but two or three
years old at his father's death, was invited to Scot-
land by the lady Dumfries, there educated by her
and sent to sea: he made several voyages to and
from Barbadoes, then settled in Scotland, where he
died some time after the Restoration, leaving, beside
a daughter, one son, who at my charges was bred
up a physician and proved so famous in his profes-
sion that he was sent by her late majesty queen
Anne to cure the king of Portugal of the venereal
disease. He had 1000l. paid him in hand before he
I lie under another disadvantage, and indeed a
very great one, from the wonderful change of opi-
nions since I first made any appearance in the world.
I was bred under the principles of the strictest
loyalty to my prince, and in an exact conformity in
discipline as well as doctrine to the church of Eng-began his journey, but when he arrived at Lisbon
I con-
land, which are neither altered nor shaken to this
very day, and I am now too old to mend. However,
my different sentiments, since my last troubles after
the revolution, have never had the least influence
either upon my actions or discourse. I have sub-
mitted myself with entire resignation, according to
St. Paul's precept, "to the powers that be."
verse equally with all parties and am equally favoured
by all; and God knows it is now of little conse-
quence what my opinions are, under such a weight
of age and infirmities, with a very scanty subsist-
ence, which instead of comforting will hardly sup-
port me.
VOL. I.
the Portuguese council and physicians dissuaded the
king from trusting his person with a foreigner.
However, his majesty of Portugal showed him
several marks of his esteem, and at parting pre-
sented him with a very rich jewel, which he sold
afterward for 500 guineas. He stayed there not
above six weeks, during which time he got consi-
derable practice. After living many years in Lon-
don, where he grew very rich, he died November,
1726, and as it is believed without making a
will; which is very probable, because, although he
had no children, he left me no legacy who was his
cousin-german and had been his greatest benefactor
2 P
578
MEMOIRS OF
by the care and expense of his education. Upon
this matter I must add one circumstance more, how
little significant soever it may be to others.
Mr.
archdeacon Maurice being at London, in order to
his journey to France, on account of his health, went
to visit the doctor and put him in mind of me,
urging the obligations I had laid upon him. The
doctor agreed to send me whatever sum of money
the archdeacon should think reasonable and deliver
it to him on his return from his travels, but unfortu-
nately the doctor died two or three days before the
archdeacon came back.
Alexander, my father, was about 18 years old in
1641. The Irish rebellion then breaking out, he
went to captain Gerard Irvin, his relation, who was
then captain of horse and afterward knighted by
king Charles II. This gentleman, having a party for
the king, soon after joined with sir Robert Stuart, in
the county of Donegal; where in the course of
those troubles they continued skirmishing, sometimes
with the Irish rebels and sometimes with those of
the English parliament, after the rebellion in Eng-
land began; till at length captain Irvin and one Mr.
Stuart were taken prisoners and put in gaol in
Derry, which city was kept for the parliament
against the king by sir Charles Coote. Here my
father performed a very memorable and gallant ac-
tion in rescuing his relation, captain Irvin, and Mr.
Stuart. I will relate this fact in all its particulars,
not only because it will do some honour to my
father's memory, but likewise because for its bold-
ness and success it seems to me very well to deserve
recording.
My father, having received information that sir
Charles Coote, governor of Derry, had publicly de-
clared that captain Irvin and his companion should
be put to death within two or three days, communi-
cated this intelligence to seven trusty friends; who
all engaged to assist him with the hazard of their
lives in delivering the two gentlemen from the
danger that threatened them.-They all agreed that
my father and three more, at the hour of six in the
morning, when the west gate stood open and the
drawbridge was let down for the governor's horses
to go out to water, should ride in, one by one, after
a manner as if they belonged to the town, and there
conceal themselves in a friend's house till night, at
which time my father was to acquaint captain Irvin
and his fellow-prisoner with their design, which was
to this purposé.: That after concerting measures at
the prison my father should repair to a certain place
on the city wall and give instructions to the four
without at twelve at night: accordingly, next morn-
ing, as soon as the gate was open, my father with
his three comrades got into the town, and the same
night having settled matters with the two gentlemen
that they should be ready at six next morning, at
which hour he and his three friends should call upon
them, he then went to the wall and directed the
four who were without, that, as soon as they should
see the gate open and the bridge drawn, one of them
should walk up to the sentry and secure him from
making any noise by holding a pistol to his breast;
after which the other three should ride up and se-
cure the room where the by-guard lay, to prevent
them from coming out: most of the garrison were
in their beds, which encouraged my father and his
friends and much facilitated the enterprise: there-
fore, precisely at six o'clock, when the by-guard and
sentry at the western gate were secured by the four
without, my father and the other three within, being
mounted on horseback with one spare horse, and in
the habit of townspeople, with cudgels in their
hands, called at the gaol-door on pretence to speak
to captain Irvin and Mr. Stuart. They were both
walking in a large room in the gaol, with the gaoler
and three soldiers attending them; but these not
suspecting the persons on horseback before the door,
whom they took to be inhabitants of the town, my
father asked captain Irvin whether he had any com-
mands to a certain place where he pretended to be
going; the captain made some answer, but said they
should not go before they had drunk with him:
then giving a piece of money to one of the soldiers.
to buy a bottle of sack at a tavern a good way off
and pretending likewise some errand for another
soldier, sent him also out of the way.
There being
now none left to guard the prisoners but the gaoler
and the third soldier, captain Irvin leaped over the
hatch-door, and as the gaoler leaped after my father
knocked him down with his cudgel. While this
was doing, Mr. Stuart tripped up the soldier's heels
and immediately leaped over the hatch.
They both
mounted, Stuart on the horse behind my father and
Irvin on the spare one, and in a few minutes came
up with their companions at the gate before the
main guard could arrive, although it were kept
within twenty yards of the gaol-door.
I should have observed that as soon as captain
Irvin and his friend got over the hatch my father
and his comrades put a couple of broadswords into
their hands which they had concealed under their
cloaks, and at the same time drawing their own,
were all six determined to force their way against
any who offered to obstruct them in their passage,
but the despatch was so sudden that they got clear
out of the gate before the least opposition could be
made.
made. They were no sooner gone than the town.
was alarmed; Coote the governor got out of his bed
and ran into the streets in his shirt to know what
the hubbub meant, and was in a great rage at the
accident. The adventurers met the governor's groom
coming back with his master's horses from watering;
they seized the horses, and got safe to sir Robert
Stuart's, about four miles off, without losing one
drop of blood in this hazardous enterprise.
This gallant person (if I may so presume to call
my father) had above twenty children by his wife
Anne Maxwell, of the family of the earl of Nithsdale,
of whom I was the eldest; they all died young ex-
cept myself, three other boys, and two girls, who
lived to be men and women. My second brother
I took care to have educated at Glasgow, but he
was drowned at two-and-twenty years old in a
storm on his return to Ireland. The other two died
captains abroad in the service of king William.
I was born on the 8th of May, 1648, at Castle-Fin,
in the county of Donegal. I made some small pro-
gress in learning at the school of Dungannon; but
when I was eighteen years old I very inconsiderately
married Mrs. Elizabeth Delgarno, my schoolmaster's
daughter, by whom I have had thirteen children,
who all died young except two daughters, married
to two brothers, James and Charles Young, of the
county of Tyrone.
Having been so very young when I married, I
could think of no other course to advance my fortune
than by getting into the army. Captain Irvin, often
mentioned already, had a brother who was a phy-
sician at Edinburgh, to whom he wrote in my favour,
desiring he would recommend me to the marquis
of Atholl and others then at the head of affairs in
Scotland; this was in the year 1674. There were
then but one troop of horse-guards (whereof the mar-
quis was colonel) and one regiment of foot-guards,
commanded by the earl of Linlithgow, in that king
dom, and they consisted chiefly of gentlemen.
Dr. Irvin, physician to the horse-guards, accord-
CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
579
ingly presented me to the marquis of Atholl, re-
questing that I might be received into his troop.
His lordship, pretending there was no vacancy, was
by the doctor threatened in a free jesting manner
with a dose of poison instead of physic the first time
he should want his skill; "Weel, weel, then," quoth
the marquis, "what is your friend's name?"-" Deel
tak' me," answered the doctor, "gin I ken;" where-
upon I was called in to write my name in the roll.
I was then ordered to repair to the troop at Stirling,
with directions to lieutenant-colonel Cockburn, the
commanding officer, to put me into which of the
four squadrons whereof the troop consisted he
thought fit. He thereupon placed me in his own,
and appointed me my quarters.
Soon after this, the conventicles growing nume-
rous in the west, several parties were drawn out to
suppress them, among whom I never failed to make
one, in hopes thereby to be taken notice of by my
commanders, for I had nothing to recommend me
except my activity, diligence, and courage, being a
stranger and born out of that kingdom.
My first action after having been taken into the
guards was, with a dozen gentlemen more, to go in
quest of Mas David Williamson, a noted covenanter,
since made more famous in the book called the
Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence. I had been assured
that this Williamson did much frequent the house
of my lady Cherrytree, within ten miles of Edin-
burgh, but when I arrived first with my party about
the house, the lady, well knowing our errand, put
Williamson to bed to her daughter disguised in a
woman's night-dress. When the troopers went to
search in the young lady's room her mother pre-
tended that she was not well; and Williamson so
managed the matter, that when the daughter raised
herself a little in the bed to let the troopers see her
they did not discover him, and so went off disap-
pointed. But the young lady proved with child,
and Williamson to take off the scandal married her
in some time after. This Williamson married five
or six wives successively, and was alive in the reign
of queen Anne, at which time I saw him preaching
in one of the kirks at Edinburgh. It is said that
king Charles II., hearing of Williamson's behaviour
in lady Cherrytree's house, wished to see the man
that discovered so much vigour while his troopers
were in search of him; and in a merry way declared
that when he was in the royal oak he could not have
kissed the bonniest lass in Christendom.
Some time after this Thomas Dalziel, general of the
forces in Scotland, an excellent soldier, who had
been taken prisoner at the famous battle of Worces-
ter and sent prisoner to the Tower, escaped from
thence into Muscovy, was made general to the czar,
and returning home after the restoration was pre-
ferred by the king to be general of the forces in
Scotland, in which post he continued till his death,
which happened a little before the revolution. This
This
general commanded fifty of the foot-guards, with an
ensign, to accompany me and to follow my directions
in the pursuit of a notorious rebel, one Adam Sto-
bow, a farmer in Fife, near Culross. This fellow
had gone through the west endeavouring to stir up
sedition in the people by his great skill in canting
and praying. There had been several parties sent
out after him before I and my men undertook the
business, but they could never discover him. We
reached Culross at night, where I directed the en-
sign and all the men to secure three or four rebels
who were in the place, while I, with two or three of
the soldiers to assist me, went to Stobow's house,
about a mile and a half from Culross, by break of day,
for fear some of his friends might give him notice.
We
|
Before I got to the house I observed a kiln in the
way, which I ordered to be searched because I
found there a heap of straw in the passage up to the
kiln-pot. There I found Stobow lurking, and car-
ried him to Culross, although his daughter offered
me a hundred dollars to let him go. We returned
immediately to the general at Edinburgh with Sto-
bow and the prisoners taken by the ensign at Cul-
ross. They continued awhile in confinement, but
Stobow at his trial found friends enough to save
his life and was only banished; yet he returned
home a year after and proved as troublesome and
seditious as ever, till at the fight of Bothwell-bridge
it was thought he was killed, for he was never heard
of afterward.
During the time I was in the guards, about two
years after the affair of Mas David Williamson at
the lady Cherrytree's, I was quartered with a party
at Bathgate, which is a small village twelve miles
from Edinburgh. One Sunday morning by break
of day I and my comrade, a gallant Highland gen-
tleman of the name of Grant, went out disguised in
great coats and bonnets in search after some con-
venticle. We travelled on foot eight or ten miles
into the wild mountains, where we spied three fel-
lows on the top of a hill, whom we conjectured to
stand there as spies to give intelligence to a conven-
ticle when any of the king's troopers should happen
to come that way. There they stood with long
poles in their hands till I and my friend came pretty
near, and then they turned to go down the hill:
when we observed this we took a little compass and
came up with them on the other side, whereupon
they stood still, leaning on their poles. Then I
bounced forward upon one of them and suddenly
snatched the pole out of his hand, asked him why
he carried such a pole on the Lord's day, and at the
same time knocked him down with it. My com-
rade immediately seized on the second and laid him
flat by a gripe of his hair; but the third took to
his heels and ran down the hill. However, having
left my friend to guard the two former, I overtook
the last and felled him likewise, but the place being
steep, the violence with which I ran carried me a
good way down the hill before I could recover my-
self after the stroke I had given him; and by the
time I could get up again to the place where he lay
the rogue had got on his feet, and was fumbling for
a side pistol that hung at his belt under his upper
coat, which as soon as I observed I fetched him to
the ground a second time with the pole, and seized
on his pistol; then leading him up to the other two,
I desired my friend to examine their pockets and
see whether they carried any powder or ball, but we
found none.
We then led our prisoners down the hill, at the
foot of which there was a bog, and on the other side
a man sitting on a rock; when we advanced near
him, leaving our prisoners in the keeping of my
friend, I ran up toward the man, who fled down on
the other side. As soon as I had reached the top of
the rock there appeared a great number of people as-
sembled in a glen to hear the preaching of Mas John
King as I understood afterward, whose voice was so
loud that it reached the ears of those who were at
the greatest distance, which could not I think be
less than a quarter of a mile; they all standing before
him and the wind favouring the strength of his lungs.
When my friend had brought the three prisoners to
the top of the rock, where I waited for him, they all
broke loose and ran down to the conventicle: but
my friend, advancing within about forty yards of that
rabble, commanded them in his majesty's name to
depart to their own homes. Whereupon about forty
2 P 2
580
MEMOIRS OF
|
make up a purse for me and my friend, which they
accordingly did; and we both lived plentifully a
twelvemonth after on the price of that horse.
;
This adventure making much noise at Edinburgh
was the occasion of my being sent for up thither by
the marquis of Atholl, my colonel, who in a very
friendly manner expostulated with me upon my rash-
ness, as indeed he had too much reason to do
neither was I able to say anything in my own justi-
fication. However, since what I had done discovered
my loyalty for my prince, my zeal for the church,
and my detestation of all rebellious principles, his
lordship ever after gave me many marks of his favour
and friendship.
of their number, with poles in their hands, drew out
from the rest and advanced against us two, who had
the courage or rather the temerity to face so great a
company, which could not be fewer than a thousand.
As this party of theirs was preparing with their long
poles to attack me and my friend, it happened very
luckily that a fine gelding, saddled and bridled, with
a pillion likewise upon him, came up near us in
search of better grass; I caught the horse and im-
mediately mounted him, which the rest of the con-
venticlers observing, they broke up and followed as
fast as they could, some on horseback and the rest on
foot, to prevent me from going off with the horse, but
I put him to the gallop, and suffering him to choose
his own way through the mountain, which was full
of bogs and hags, got out of reach. My friend kept
up with me as long as he could, but having run a
mile through such difficult places he was quite spent,
and the conventiclers hard at his heels; whereupon
he called to me for assistance, and I alighting put
him upon the horse, bidding him to make the best
of his way to the laird of Poddishaw's about two
miles off. By this time we saw twelve covenaiters
on horseback, who advanced toward us by a shorter
cut, and blocked up a gap through which we were
of necessity to pass. I undertook to clear the gap
for my friend, and running towards the rogues with
my broadsword and pistol, soon forced them to open
to the right and left my comrade got through and
was pursued a good way, but he so laid about hini
with his broadsword that the pursuers, being un
armed, durst not seize him. In the mean time, I who
was left on foot kept the covenanters who followed
me at a proper distance; but they pelted me with
clods, which I sometimes returned, till at last, after
chasing me above a mile, they saw a party of troop-hoped his excellency would now make good his
ers in red passing by at some distance, and then
they gave over their pursuit.
The troopers, observing my friend galloping and
pursued, imagined he was some fanatic preacher,
till they came to an old woman on a hill, whom my
friend had desired to deny his being gone that way;
upon which they went off to their quarters, and he
got safe to Poddishaw's, whither I soon after arrived.
The laird of Poddishaw had been that day at church,
from whence returning with the laird of Pocam-
mock, who lived about a mile off, they both wondered
how the horse got thither, for Pocammock was the
owner of the horse, and his lady had rode on it
that day to the conventicle, without her husband's
knowledge, having been seduced thither by some
fanatic neighbours, for she had never been at their
meetings before. My friend and I acquainted the
two lairds of the whole adventure of that day, and
after dinner Pocammock requested us to let him have
the horse home, thereby to stifle any reflection his
lady might bring upon him or herself by going to a
conventicle; he likewise invited us to dine next
day at his house, where the horse should again be
delivered to me, as justly forfeited by the folly of his
wife. We went accordingly with the laird of Poddi-
shaw, and dined at Pocammock's; where the horse
was ordered to be led out into the court, in the same
accoutrements as I found him the day before; but
observing the lady in tears, I told her that if she
would give me her promise never to go to a conven-
ticle again I would bestow her the horse and conceal
what had passed; she readily complied, and so the
matter was made up. However, the laird her hus-
band assured me that no horse in Scotland should be
better paid for; and being a leading man in the
country, and his lady discovering the names of those
who had been at the conventicle, he sent for them,
and persuaded them as they valued their quiet to
Accordingly, these services gave me so much credit
with the general that he promised to apply to the
government in my favour for some preferment in the
army upon the first opportunity, which happened
about a year afterward. For the seditious humours
in the west still increasing, it was thought proper
that three independent troops of horse, and as many
of dragoons, should be raised to suppress the rebels.
Whereupon Mr. Francis Stuart, grandson to the earl
of Bothwell, a private gentleman in the horse-guards
like myself, and my intimate acquaintance, was sent
for in haste by the general, because the council of
Scotland was then writing to the king, that his majesty
would please to grant commissions to those persons
whose names where sent up to London that very
night.
night. Mr. Stuart gave me notice of this, where-
upon, although I was not sent for, I resolved to go
up with him to Edinburgh and solicit for myself.
When I arrived there and attended the general his
"Wha
first question was, in a humorous manner,
the decl sent for you up?" I answered that I
promise of preferring me, since so fair an oppor-
tunity offered at present. On this occasion the
general stood my firm friend; and although the sons
and brothers of lords and baronets and other per-
sons of quality solicited to be made lieutenants and
cornets in these new-raised troops, yet the general
in regard to my services prevailed with the council
that I might be appointed lieutenant to Mr. Stuart,
who was then made captain of dragoons.
Soon after this the archbishop of St. Andrews
was murdered by the laird of Hackston and Balfour,
assisted by four poor weavers." Hackston before this
horrid action was reputed an honest and gallant
man; but his friendship for his brother-in-law, Bal-
four, drew him in to commit this inhuman murder.
Balfour, who had been the archbishop's chamberlain
(for so in Scotland we call a great man's steward),
whether by negligence or dishonesty was short in
his payments to his lord, and the fear of being called
to an account was a principal motive to assassinate
his master; however, he pretended likewise a great
zeal to the kirk, whereof he looked upon the arch-
bishop as the greatest oppressor. It is certain that
the lower people mortally hated the archbishop on
pretence that his grace had deserted their communion,
and the weavers who were accomplices of Balfour
believed they did God service in destroying an enemy
of the kirk; and accordingly all the murderers were
esteemed and styled saints by that rebellious faction.
After the murder of the archbishop several par-
ties in the west took up arms, under the leading of
Robert Hamilton, second son to sir William Hamil-
ton of Preston, the unworthy son of a most worthy
father; whereupon the council met, and sent for
“One of them fired a pistol at him, which burnt his cont
and gown, but did not go into his body; upon this they fancied
he had a magical secret to secure him against a shot, and they
drew him out of his conchi, and murdered him barbarously, re
peating their strokes till they were suro ho was quito doad.”
CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
581
Graham, then laird of Clavers, afterward created vis-
count Dundee by king James VII. This noble person
was at that time captain of one of those independ-
ent troops of horse which as I have already men-
tioned were raised before the murder of the archbishop.
The council therefore ordered him to march with
a detachment of one hundred and twenty dragoons
and a lieutenant with his own troop, in pursuit of the
rebels. Clavers was obliged not to open his commis-
sion until he came in sight of them. In his march he
took Mas John King, one of their principal preachers.
Clavers carried King along until he came in sight
of the enemy at Drumclog, eight miles from Hamil-
ton. There the preacher was guarded by a dragoon
sentry, at a little cabin on the top of the hill, while
Clavers opening his commission found himself com-
pelled to fight the rebels, let their number be ever so
great, with those hundred and twenty dragoons.
This
But before I proceed to tell the issue of this affair
I must digress a little upon the subject of Mas John
King above mentioned. When I was in the guards
When I was in the guards
some time after I had missed Williamson at lady
Cherrytree's house, the government, hearing that this
John King was beginning to hold his conventicles
not far from Stirling, where the troop of horse then
lay, ordered the commanding officer there to send a
party out to take him and bring him up to the council.
I was pitched upon with a small detachment to per-
form this service. I went to my lord Cardrosse's
house, to whose lady King was chaplain; there I
took him and delivered him to the council.
preacher had gotten the lady's woman with child
about four or five months before, and it is supposed
had promised her marriage, provided the lady would
stand his friend in his present distress; whereupon
she was so far his friend as to get him bailed, on her
engaging he should hold no more conventicles; how-
ever he went to the hills and there preached the
people to arms, and in several towns, as Kirkcud-
bright, Lanark, and Sanquehar in particular, in com-
pany with Cameron, set up declarations on the
market-crosses against the king, whom he excommu-
nicated with all his adherents. Thus he continued
till Clavers took him at Drumclog, as is above men-
tioned, where he got off again, until I took him a third
time after the battle of Bothwell-bridge, which shall
be related in its proper place.
The rebels at Drumclog were eight or nine thou-
sand strong; their leader as I have said before was
Robert Hamilton, second brother to the loyal house
of Preston, but a profligate who had spent all his
patrimony. There was likewise among them the
lairds of Knockgray and Fruah, with many other
gentlemen of fortune whose names I have forgot.
Clavers's men with the addition of some few that
came in to him did not exceed one hundred and
eighty, yet pursuant to his orders he was forced to
fight the enemy; but, being so vastly outnumbered,
was soon defeated, with the loss of cornet Robert
Graham and about eight or ten private troopers.
The rebels, finding the cornet's body and supposing it
to be that of Clavers, because the name Graham was
wrought in the shirtneck, treated it with the utmost
inhumanity, cutting off the nose, picking out the eyes,
and stabbing it through in a hundred places.
Clavers, in his flight towards Hamilton and Glas-
gow, rode a horse that trailed his guts for two miles
from the place where the engagement happened; but
overtaking his groom with some led horses he
mounted one of them, and with the remains of his
small army escaped to Glasgow. The rebels, pur-
suing as far as Hamilton, advanced that evening
within a mile of Glasgow, where they encamped all
night. As Clavers was inarching after his men up
the hill, where he had left Mas John King under
the guard of a dragoon (who ran off with the first
that fled), King, in a sneering way, desired him to
stay and take his prisoner with him.
The rebels being thus encamped within a mile of
Glasgow, Clavers commanded his men in the town
to stand to their arms all night, and having barri-
cadoed the four streets, to prevent the rebels' horse
from breaking in, ordered me at sunrise to march
with six dragoons and discover which way the
rebels intended to come into the town. I must
here observe that I, with captain Stuart's troop of
dragoons and a battalion of the foot-guards, re-
mained at Glasgow while Clavers marched to
But to return.
Drumclog, where he was defeated.
I followed the directions which were given me, and
having discovered the enemy from a little eminence
I was ordered by Clavers, who came to me there, to
watch at a small house where the way divided, and
see which of the roads they would take, or whether
they separated and each party took a different way.
I stayed until I saw them take two different roads;
some by that from whence I came from the town,
which was over the Gallowgate bridge, and the rest
by the high church and college, which was more
than twice as far as the first party had to come, and
consequently could not both meet at the same time
within the town. This was a great advantage to
Clavers and his little army. That party of the
rebels which took the Gallowgate-bridge road follow-
ed me close to the heels as I returned to inform
Clavers what course they took.
The broad street was immediately full of them,
but advancing toward the barricade, before their fel-
lows who followed the other road could arrive to their
assistance, were valiantly received by Clavers and
his men, who firing on them at once and jumping
over the carts and cars that composed the barricade,
chased them out of the town; but were quickly
forced to return and receive the other party, which
by that time was marching down by the high church
and college; but when they came within pistol-shot
were likewise fired upon and driven out of the
town. In this action many of the rebels fell, but
the king's party lost not so much as one man.
The townsmen being too well affected to the
rebels concealed many of them in their houses;
the rest, who escaped, met and drew up in a field
behind the high church, where they stayed until five
in the afternoon, it being in the month of May, and
from thence marched in a body to the same place
where they were in the morning, about a mile off
the town. Clavers and his men, expecting they
would make a second attack, and discovering by his
spies whither they were gone, marched after them,
but upon sight of our forces the rebels retired with a
strong rear-guard of horse to Hamilton; whereupon
Clavers returned and quartered that night in Glasgow.
Next morning the government sent orders to
Clavers to leave Glasgow and march to Stirling,
eighteen miles farther; and three days after he wa
commanded to bring up his party to Edinburgh. As
soon as he quitted Glasgow the rebels returned, and
having stayed in that town eight or ten days, en-
camped on Hamilton-moor, within a mile of Both-
well-bridge, where it was said that their numbers
were increased to fourteen thousand; although
bishop Burnet, in his History of his Own Times,
most falsely and partially affirms that they were not
more than four thousand or thereabout.
The council, finding the rebels daily increasing in
their numbers, gave information thereof to the king;
whereupon his majesty sent down the duke of Mon
mouth with a commission to be commander-in-chief,
582
MEMOIRS OF
and to take with him four troops of English dragoons,
which were quartered on the borders. But these,
with the forces in Scotland, amounted not to above
three thousand. Upon the duke's being made com-
mander-in-chief, general Dalziel refused to serve un-
der him, and remainded at his lodgings in Edin-
burgh till his grace was superseded, which happen-
ed about a fortnight after.
The army was about four miles forward on the
road toward Hamilton when the duke of Mon-
mouth came up with his English dragoons, on Sa-
turday the 21st of June: from thence the whole
forces marched to the Kirk of Shots, within four
miles of the rebels, where they lay that night. The
next morning he marched the army up an eminence
opposite to the main body of the enemy, who were
encamped on the moor.
The general officers, the earl of Linlithgow, colo-
nel of the foot-guards; the earl of Mar, colonel of a
regiment of foot; Clavers, the earl of Hume, and the
earl of Airlie, all captains of horse; the marquis of
Montrose, colonel of the horse-guards (Atholl hav-
ing been discarded); Dalhousie; with many other
noblemen and gentlemen volunteers, attending the
duke together, desired his grace to let them know
which way he designed to take to come to the ene-
my? The duke answered, "It must be by Bothwell-
bridge." Now the bridge lay a short mile to the
right of the king's army, was narrow, and guarded
with three thousand of the rebels and strongly bar-
ricadoed with great stones; but although the officers
were desirous to have passed the river by easy fords
directly between them and the rebels, and to march
to their main body on the moor before those three
thousand who guarded the bridge could come to
assist them, yet the duke was obstinate and would
pass no other way than that of the bridge.
Pursuant to this preposterous and absurd resolu-
tion he commanded captain Stuart (whose lieu-
tenant I was), with his troop of dragoons and eighty
musketeers, together with four small field-pieces,
under cover of the dragoons, to beat off the party at
the bridge. The duke himself, with David Lesly
and Melvill, accompanied us, and ordered the field-
pieces to be left at the village of Bothwell, within a
musket-shot of the bridge: when the duke and his
men came near the bridge the rebels beat a parley
and sent over a laird accompanied with a kirk
preacher. The duke, asking what they came for,
was answered, "That they would have the kirk
established in the same manner as it stood at the
king's restoration, and that every subject should be
obliged to take the solemn league and covenant.
The duke told them their demand could not be
granted; but sent them back to tell their party that
if they would lay down their arms and submit to
the king's mercy he would intercede for their pardon.
The mes-
While this parley lasted the field-pieces were
brought down and planted over against the bridge,
without being perceived by the rebels.
sengers returned in a short time with this answer:
"That they would not lay down their arms unless
their conditions were granted them :" whereupon
the dragoons and musketeers fired all at once upon
those who guarded the bridge, and the field-pieces
played so warmly that some hundreds of the rebels
were slain, the rest flying to the main body on the
moor.
The duke as soon as he had commanded to fire
retired into a hollow from the enemies' shot (some
say by the persuasion of Lesly and Melvill), and
continued there till the action was over.
captain Stuart ordered the musketeers to make way
for the horse to pass the bridge, by casting the stones
Then
|
into the river which had been placed there to ob-
struct the passage over it. But the army could not
pass in less than five hours, and then marched up in
order of battle toward the enemy, who waited for
them on the moor, confiding in the great superiority
of their number. Clavers commanded the horse on
the right and captain Stuart the dragoons on the
left. The field-pieces were carried in the centre of
the foot-guards, while the rest of the officers com-
manded at the head of their men; and the duke,
after the enemy was beaten from the bridge, rode at
the head of the army.
Upon the first fire the rebels' horse turned about,
and fled upon the right and left; and although the
duke ordered his men not to stir out of their ranks
to pursue them, yet the army, not regarding his com-
mands, followed the flying rebels, killing between
seven and eight hundred and taking fifteen hundred
prisoners.a
Sir John Bell, provost of Glasgow, as soon as he
saw the rebels fly, rode into the town; from whence
in a few hours he sent all the bread he could find,
together with a hogshead of drink to each troop and
company in the army, out of the cellars of such
townsmen as were found to be abettors or protectors
of the rebels.
The cruelty and presumption of that wicked and
perverse generation will appear evident from a sin-
gle instance. These rebels had set up a very large
gallows in the middle of their camp, and prepared a
"The royal army now moved slowly forwards towards
Hamilton, and reached Bothwell-moor on the 22nd of June,
1679. The insurgents were encamped chiefly in the duke of
Hamilton's park, along the Clyde, which separated the two
armies. Bothwell-bridge, which is long and narrow, had then
a portal in the middle, with gates, which the covenanters shut,
and barricadoed with stones and logs of timber. This import-
ant post was defended by three hundred of their best men, un-
der Hackston of Rathillet and Hall of Haughhead. Early in
the morning this party crossed the bridge, and skirmished
with the royal vanguard, now advanced as far as the village of
Bothwell. But Hackston speedily retired to his post at the
western end of Bothwell-bridge.
"While the dispositions made by the duke of Monmouth
announced his purpose of assailing the pass, the more moder-
ate of the insurgents resolved to offer terms. Ferguson of Kait-
loch, a gentleman of landed fortune, and David Hume, a cler-
gyman, carried to the duke of Monmouth a supplication, de-
manding free exercise of their religion, a free parliament, and
a free general assembly of the church. The duke heard their
demands with his natural mildness, and assured them he would
interpose with his majesty in their behalf, on condition of their
immédiately dispersing themselves and yielding up their arms.
Had the insurgents been all of the moderate opinion, this pro-
posal would have been accepted, much bloodshed saved, and
perhaps more permanent advantage derived to their party; or,
had they been all Cameronians, their defence would have been
fierce and desperate. But while their motley and misassorted
officers were debating upon the duke's proposal, his field-pieces
were already planted on the eastern side of the river, to cover
the attack of the foot-guards, who were led on by lord Living-
stone to force the bridge. Here Hackston maintained his post
with zeal and courage; nor was it until all his ammunition
was expended, and every support denied him by the general,
that he reluctantly abandoned the important pass. When his
party were drawn back, the duke's army slowly, and with their
cannon in front, defiled along the bridge, and formed in a line
of battle as they came over the river; the duke commanded the
foot, and Claverhouse the cavalry. It would seem that these
movements could not have been performed without at least
some loss, had the enemy been serious in opposing them. But
the insurgents were otherwise employed. With the strangest
delusion that ever foll upon devoted beings, they chose those
precious moments to cashier their officers, and elect others in
their room. In this important operation they were at length
disturbed by the duke's cannon; at the very first discharge of
which the horse of the covenanters wheeled and rode off,
breaking and trampling down the ranks of their infantry in
their flight. The Cameronian account blames Weir of Green-
ridge, a commander of the horse, who is termed a sad Achan in
the camp. The more moderate party lay the whole blame on
Hamilton, whose conduct they say left the world to debate
whether he was most traitor, coward, or fool. The generous
Monmouth was anxious to spare the blood of his infatuated
countrymen, by which he incurred much blame among the
high-flying royalists."-Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.
CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
583
cartfull of new ropes at the foot of it, in order to
hang up the king's soldiers, whom they already
looked upon as vanquished and at mercy; and it
happened that the pursuers in the royal army, return-
ing back with their prisoners, chose the place where
the gallows stood to guard them at, without offering
to hang one of them, which they justly deserved and
had so much reason to expect. The pursuers were
no sooner returned and the whole action over than
general Dalziel arrived at the camp from Edinburgh,
with a commission renewed to be commander-in-
chief, which he received that very morning by an
express. This commander, having learned how the
duke had conducted the war, told him publicly and
with great plainness that he had betrayed the king;
that he heartily wished his commission had come a
day sooner; "for then," said he, "these rogues
should never have troubled his majesty or the king-
dom any more."
Thus the duke was at the same time superseded
and publicly rebuked before all the army; yet his
grace forgot his dignity so far as to sneak among
them at the town of Bothwell (where the forces en-
camped) until the Saturday following: then all the
troops marched back to Glasgow, from whence in
two or three days they were sent to their several
quarters; after which the duke of Monmouth passed
by Stirling to Fife to visit the duke of Rothes.
The same evening, after the rout on the moor, the
prisoners were sent with a strong guard towards
Edinburgh. On Saturday morning when the army
was to march to Glasgow I desired the general's
leave to go with twelve dragoons in search of some
of the rebels, who might probably pass the Clyde
about Dumbarton to shelter themselves in the high-
lands. With these dragoons clad in grey coats and
bonnets I made haste down the side of the river;
and about midnight after travelling twenty-four
miles I came to a church, and while the soldiers
stayed to refresh their horses in the churchyard I
spied a country fellow going by, and asked him in
his own dialect, "Whither gang you this time of
night?" He answered, "Wha are ye that speers?"
I replied "We are your ane fo'ke:" upon this the
fellow came up, and told me there were eighteen
friends with horses at an old castle waiting for a
boat to pass over into the isle of Arran. I mounted
the man behind one of my dragoons and went to-
ward the place; but the rebels not finding a boat were
gone off and the guide dismissed. There was a great
dew on the grass, which directed me and my party to
follow the track of their horses for three or four
miles till the dew was gone off: I then inquired of
a cowherd on a hill whether he saw any of our
poor fo'ke" travelling that way? he answered that
they had separated on that hill and gone three seve-
ral ways, six in a party; adding that in one party
there was "a braw muckle kerl with a white hat
on him and a great bob of ribands on the cock o't." |
Whereupon I sent four of my dragoons after one
party, four more after another, and myself with the
remaining four went in pursuit of him with the
white hat. As I went forward I met another cow-
herd, who told me that the fellow with the hat
and one more (for as the rogues advanced farther
into the west they still divided into smaller parties),
were just gone down the hill to his master's house.
The good man of the house returning from putting
the horses to grass in the garden was going to shut
the door; whereupon myself and two of the dra-
goons commanded him with our pistols at his breast
to lead us to the room where the man lay who wore
a white hat. We entered the room, and before he
awaked I took away his arms and commanded him
to dress immediately; then finding his companion
asleep in the barn I forced him likewise to arise,
and mounting them both on their own horses, came
at nine o'clock in the morning with my two prison-
ers to the other dragoons at the place where we
appointed to meet. From thence we rode straight
to Glasgow, and arrived there about eight in the
evening, after a journey of fifty miles since we left
the army at Bothwell the day before.
This was upon a Sunday; and although we met
with many hundreds of people on the road, yet we
travelled on to Glasgow without any opposition. I
must here inform the reader that, although I had
once before taken this very man who wore the white
hat, yet I did not know him to be Mas John King
already mentioned, until I was told so by the man
of the house where I found him. I likewise forgot
to mention that King, who knew me well enough,
as soon as he was taken in the house, entreated me
to show him some favour because he had married a
woman of my name. I answered, "That is true,
but first you got her with bairn, and shall therefore
now pay for disgracing one of my name."
When we arrived near Glasgow I sent a dragoon
to inform the general that Mas John King was com-
ing to kiss his hand: whereupon his excellency, ac-
companied with all the noblemen and officers,
advanced as far as the bridge to welcome me and
my prisoners; where it is very observable that
Graham laird of Clavers, who came among the rest,
made not the least reproach to Mas John in return
of his insolent behaviour when that commander fled
from Drumclog. Mas John was sent to Edinburgh
next morning under a guard, and hanged soon after:
from hence I went to my quarters in Lanark, sixteen
miles from Glasgow; and about a month after (I
hope the reader will pardon my weakness) I hap-
pened to dream that I found one Wilson, a captain
among the rebels at Bothwell-bridge, in a bank of
wood upon the river Clyde. This accident made so
strong an impression on my mind, that as soon as I
awoke I took six-and-thirty dragoons and got to the
place by break of day; then I caused some of them
to alight and go into the wood and set him up
as hounds do a hare, while the rest were ordered to
stand sentry to prevent his escape. It seems I
dreamt fortunately, for Wilson was actually in the
wood with five more of his company as we after-
wards learned; who, all seeing me and my party
advancing, hid themselves in a little island on the
river, among the broom that grew upon it. Wilson
grew upon it.
had not the good fortune to escape; for as he was
trying to get out of one copse into another I met
him, and guessing by his good clothes and by the
description I had received of him before that he was
the man I looked for, I seized and brought him to
my quarters; and from thence immediately con-
veyed him to Edinburgh, where he was hanged; but
might have preserved his life if he would have con-
descended only to say "God save the king." This
he utterly refused to do, and thereby lost not only
his life but likewise an estate worth twenty-nine
thousand marks Scots.
For this service the duke of Queensberry, then
high commissioner of Scotland, recommended me to
the king, who rewarded me with the gift of Wilson's
estate; but although the grant passed the seals and
the sheriff put me in possession, yet I could neither
sell nor let it; nobody daring, for fear of the rebels
who had escaped at Bothwell-bridge, either to pur-
chase or farm it: by which means I never got a
penny by the grant; and at the Revolution the land
was taken from me and restored to Wilson's heirs.
The winter following general Dalziel, with a bat-
581
MEMOIRS OF
talion of the earl of Linlithgow's guards, the earl of
Airlie's troop of horse, and captain Stuart's troop of
dragoons, quartered at Kilmarnock, in the west,
fifty miles from Edinburgh. Here the general, one
day happening to look on while I was exercising the
troop of dragoons, asked me, when I had done,
whether I knew any one of my men who was skil-
ful in praying well in the style and tone of the co-
venanters ? I immediately thought upon one James
Gibb, who had been born in Ireland and whom
I made a dragoon. This man I brought to the
general, assuring his excellency that if I had raked
hell I could not find his match for his skill in mi-
micking the covenanters. Whereupon the general
gave him 57. to buy him a great coat and a bonnet,
and commanded him to find out the rebels, but to be
sure to take care of himself among them. The dra-
goon went eight miles off that very night and got
admittance into the house of a notorious rebel, pre-
tending he came from Ireland out of zeal for the
cause to assist at the fight of Bothwell-bridge, and
could not find an opportunity since of returning to
Ireland with safety; he said he durst not be seen in
the daytime, and therefore, after bewitching the
family with his gifts of praying, he was conveyed in
the dusk of the evening with a guide to the house of
the next adjoining rebel: and thus in the same
manner from one to another, till in a month's time
he got through the principal of them in the west;
telling the general at his return that wherever he
came he made the old wives, in their devout fits,
tear off their biggonets and mutches; he likewise
gave the general a list of their names and places of
their abodes, and into the bargain brought back a
good purse of money in his pocket. The general
desired to know how he prayed among them: he
answered that it was his custom in his prayers to
send the king, the ministers of state, the officers of
the army, with all their soldiers, and the episcopal
clergy, all broadside to hell; but particularly the
general himself. "What," said the general, did
you send me to hell, sir?" "Yea," replied the dra-
CC you
goon,
at the head of them, as their leader."
And here I do solemnly aver, upon my veracity
and knowledge, that bishop Burnet, in the History
of his Own Times, hath in a most false and scandal-
ous manner misrepresented the action at Bothwell-
bridge and the behaviour of the episcopal clergy in
Scotland; for as to the former, I was present in
that engagement, which was performed in the man-
ner as I have related; and as to the latter, having
travelled through most parts of that kingdom, par-
ticularly the north and west, I was well acquainted
with them, and will take it to my death that the
reverse of this character which Burnet gives of both
is the truth. And because that author is so unjust
to the episcopal clergy and so partial to the cove-
nanters and their teachers, I do affirm that I have
known several among the latter sort guilty of those
very vices wherewith this bishop brands the episco-
pal clergy. Among many others I will produce one
instance, rather to divert the reader than from any
inclination to obloquy. One of these eight fanatic
teachers who were permitted at the Restoration to
keep their livings came to sir John Carmichael's
house, within a mile of Lanark, where I was then
upon a visit to sir John. We drank hard till it was
late and all the company retired except sir John and
myself. The teacher would needs give us prayers,
but fell asleep before he had half done, whereupon sir
John and I, setting a bottle and a glass at his nose,
left him upon his knees. The poor man sneaked off
early the next morning, being in all appearance
ashamed of his hypocrisy.
•
To return from this digression.-The general sent
out several parties, and me with a party among the
rest, where during the winter and the following
spring I secured many of those whose names and
abodes the canting dragoon had given a list of.
In July following the general, by order of council,
commanded me to go with a detachment of thirty
horse and fifty dragoons in pursuit of about 150 re-
bels, who had escaped at Bothwell-bridge, and ever
since kept together in a hody up and down in Gal-
loway. I followed them for five or six days from one
place to another, after which, on the 22nd of July,
they stayed for me at Airs-moss, situate in the shire
of Air, near the town of Cumlock. The moss is
four miles long from east to west, and two broad.
The rebels drew up at the east end, and consisted of
30 horse and 120 foot. I faced them upon a rising
ground with my 30 horse and 50 dragoons. The
reason why the rebels chose this place to fight on
rather than a plain field was for fear their horse
might desert the foot, as they did on Hamilton-
moor, near Bothwell-bridge; and likewise, that in
case they lost the day they might save themselves by
retreating into the moss.
I placed myself on the left, as judging that the
best officer the rebels had would command on the
right. The action began about five in the afternoon,
but lasted not long; for I ordered my men first to
receive the enemy's fire, then to ride down the hill
upon them and use their broadswords; they did so,
and before the enemy had time to draw theirs cut
many of them down in an instant; whereupon they
wheeled about, and captain Fowler, who command-
ed the rebels on the right, being then in the rear,
advancing up to me, I gave him such a blow over the
head with my broadsword as would have cleaved his
skull had it not been defended by a steel cap.
Fowler, turning about, aimed a blow at me, but I
warded it off, and with a back stroke cut the upper
part of his head clean off from the nose upward.
By this time the rebels, leaving their horses, fled
to the moss; but the royalists pursuing them killed
about sixty and took fourteen prisoners. Here
Cameron, the famous covenanter, lost his life, and
Hackston was taken prisoner, infamous for imbru-
ing his hands in the blood of the archbishop of St.
Andrews, as I have already mentioned, for which
parricide both of his hands were afterwards cut off,
and he was hanged at Edinburgh.
But this victory cost me very dear; for being then
in the rear I rode into the moss after the rebels,
where I overtook a dozen of them hacking and hew-
ing one of my men, whose horse was bogged; his
name was Elliot, a stout soldier and one of Clavers's
troop. He had received several wounds and was at
the point of being killed when I came to his relief.
I shot one of the rogues dead with my carbine,
which obliged the rest to let the poor man and his
horse creep out of the hole, but at the same time
drew all their fury upon myself; for Elliot made a
shift to crawl out of the moss, leading his horse in
his hand, but was wholly disabled from assisting his
deliverer and was not regarded by his enemies, who
probably thought he was mortally wounded, or in-
deed rather that they had no time to mind him, for
I laid about me so fast that they judged it best to
keep off and not to venture within my reach, till it
unfortunately happened that my horse slipped into
the same hole out of which Elliot and his had just
got. When they had me at this advantage they be-
gan to show their courage and manfully dealt their
blows with their broadswords, from some of which
the carbine that hung down my back defended me
a little. As I was paddling in the hole, the horse
CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON,
585
not able to get out, one of the rebels ran me through | Elliot, who, having gotten to a rising ground, saw
the small of the back with his broadsword, and at
the same instant two more wounded me under the
ribs with their small ones. Then I threw myself
over the head of my horse, taking the far pistol out
of the holster in my left hand and holding my
broadsword in my right; and as one of the villains
was coming hastily up to me his foot slipped, and
before he could recover himself I struck my sword
into his skull; but the fellow being big and heavy
snapped it asunder as he fell within a span of the
hilt. The rebels had me now at a great advantage;
one of them made a stroke at me, which I warded
off with the hilt of the sword that was left in my
hand; but the force with which he struck the blow,
and I kept it off, brought us both to the ground.
However I got up before him, clapped my pistol to
his side and shot him dead. As soon as this was
done another came behind me, and with some weapon
or other struck me such a blow on the head as laid
me flat on my back, in which posture I remained a
good while insensible; the rogues taking it for
granted that I was dead scoured off, fearing that by
this time some of my men were returning back from
the pursuit.
After some time I a little recovered my senses,
and strove to lift myself up, which one of the rogues
happening to see at some distance, immediately re-
turned, and said in my hearing, "God, the dog is
not dead yet ;" then coming up to me took his
sword, and putting its hilt to his breast and guiding it
with both his hands, made a thrust at my belly; but
my senses were now so far recovered that I parried
the thrust with a piece of the sword which remained
still in my hand. The fellow, when he missed his
aim, almost fell on his face; for the sword ran up to
the hilt in the moss, and as he was recovering him-
self I gave him a dab in the mouth with my broken
sword, which very much hurt him; but he aiming a
second thurst, which I had likewise the good for-
tune to put by, and having as before given him
another dab in the mouth, he immediately went off,
for fear of the pursuers, whereof many were now re-
turning.
In this distress I made a shift, with much difficulty
and pain, to get upon my feet, but my right leg being
disabled by the wound I received from the broad-
sword I was forced to limp by the help of the car-
bine, which I made use of as a staff. I had lost
my
horse, for one of the rogues, when I had quitted him
in the hole, led him away through the moss.
covered him about a year after from the man to
whom the rebel had sold him: and the said rebel,
when he was at the gallows, confessed himself to be
the same man who took away the horse at Airs-
moss.
I re-
There was a Lancashire gentleman, one Mr.
Parker, who came a volunteer to Airs-moss, with
intent, as he expressed himself, to see the sport.
This gentleman, riding on my right hand at the time
when we received the enemy's fire in the beginning
of the action, was shot with a blunderbuss under the
left shoulder; the wound was so large that a man
might thrust his fist into it; yet when I desired him
to fall back and take care of his wound, he answered
me that he would first have his pennyworth out of
the rogues, and accordingly followed us on horse-
back into the moss as far as the horse could go with-
out bogging. But by that time his wound so griev-
ously pained him, with some other cuts he got in the
pursuit, that he was forced to alight and sit on a dry
spot of ground which he found in the moss, from
whence he saw all that happened to me without
being able to come to my assistance any more than
likewise all that had passed. However, Mr. Parker,
as I came limping toward him, could not forbear
laughing, and said, "What, a plague, have you got
your bones well paid too?" Then both of us made
a shift to get up to Elliot on the rising ground.
The trumpeter, being by this time returned with
some others from the pursuit, was ordered to sound
a call, which brought all the rest back, with the four-
teen prisoners, and Hackston among the rest, who
was that day commander-in-chief among the rebels.
Of the king's party but two were killed, Mr. An-
drew Kerr, a gentleman of Clavers's own troop, and
one M'Kabe, a dragoon in captain Stuart's troop,
where I was lieutenant. The wounded were
about eight or nine, beside Parker and Elliot. Elliot
died the next day: he, Kerr, and M'Kabe were
honourably buried by Mr. Brown, a gentleman who
lived hard by, to whose house their bodies were car-
ried after the fight at the moss. An English lady
living about eight miles off took care of Mr. Parker,
but he died at her house a year after of his wounds,
very much lamented on account of his loyalty and
valour.
I or-
When the fight was over, night coming on,
dered all my men, except twelve dragoons whom I
kept to attend myself, to march with the prisoners
and those who were wounded to Douglas, fourteen
miles off, and to carry along with them Cameron's
head. In the mean time I and my party of dra-
goons went that night sixteen long miles to Lanark,
where the general and all the foot quartered, as
well to acquaint him with what had been done as to
have my own wounds taken care of. I sent one of
my dragoons before me with my message; where-
upon the general himself, although it were after
midnight, accompanied with the earls of Linlithgow,
Mar, Ross, Hume, and the lord Dalhousie, came
out to meet me at the gate: Dalhousie forced me to
lodge in his own chamber, to which I was accord-
ingly carried by two of my dragoons. After my
wounds had been dressed in the presence of this
noble company, who stood round about me, being
very thirsty through the loss of blood, I drank the
king's health and the company's in a large glass of
wine and water, and then was laid in Dalhousie's
own bed.
Next day the general, leaving Lanark with the
forces under his command, ordered a troop of horse
and another of dragoons to attend me till I should
be able to travel up to Edinburgh for the better
conveniency of physicians and surgeons. My wounds.
did not confine me to my bed, and in a month's
time I went to Edinburgh on horseback by easy
stages, where I continued till Candlemas following,
lingering of the wound I had received by the broad-
sword. My surgeon was the son of the same Dr.
Irvin who first got me into the guards; but having
unfortunately neglected to tie a string to the tent of
green cloth which he used for the wound, the tent
slipped into my body, where it lay under my navel
seven months and five days, and exceedingly pained
me, not suffering me to sleep otherwise than by
taking soporiferous pills.
taking soporiferous pills. When the tent was first
missing neither the surgeon nor anybody else ever
imagined that it was lodged in my body, but sup-
posed it to have slipped out of the wound while I
slept, and carried away by some rat or other vermin;
the tent lying thus in my body made it impossible
that the wound could heal: wherefore, after linger-
ing seven months, by the advice of a gentlewoman
in the neighbourhood I got leave to go for Ireland
with my surgeon, and there try whether my native
air would contribute anything to my cure.
586
MEMOIRS OF
However insignificant this relation may be to the
generality of readers, yet I cannot omit a lucky acci-
dent to which I owe my cure.
While I continued
at Edinburgh I ordered some pipes of lead to be
made in a mould, through which the thin corruption
which continually issued out of the wound caused
by the tent remaining in my body might be con-
veyed as through a faucet. These pipes I cut
shorter by degrees, in proportion as I imagined the
wound was healing at the bottom; till at last, by
mistaking the true cause, the tent continuing still
where it did, the pipes became too short for the use
intended; wherefore when I was in Ireland I made
a coarse pipe myself, which was long enough; this
pipe, after the wound was washed with brandy, al-
ways remained in my body till the next dressing;
but being made without art and somewhat jagged at
the end, it happened one morning when the pipe |
was drawn out as usual in order to have the wound
washed the tent followed, to the great surprise of my
father, who at that time was going to dress the
wound, my surgeon being then at Castle-Irvin,
where I had left him with his brother Dr. Irvin, at
sir Gerard Irvin's house; the same gentleman who
was delivered out of Derry goal by my father, as I
have related in the beginning of these memoirs.
I
take the general in the street, and gently touching
him, his excellency, turning in a great surprise, cried
out, "O God! man, are you living?" I answered
that I was, and hoped to do the king and his ex-
cellency further service.
After I had continued a month with my friends
in Edinburgh, who all congratulated with me upon
my recovery, I repaired to the troop at Lanark,
where I often ranged with a party through the west
to find out the straggling remains of the covenanting
rebels; but for some time without success, till a week
before Christmas, after the duke of York succeeded to
the crown, and a year and a half after I was cured.
Having drunk hard one night I dreamed that I had
found captain David Steele, a notorious rebel, in
one of the five farmers' houses on a mountain in the
shire of Clydesdale and parish of Lismahago, within
eight miles of Hamilton, a place that I was well ac-
quainted with. This man was head of the rebels
since the affair of Airs-moss, having succeeded to
Hackston, who had been there taken and afterward
hanged, as the reader has already heard; for as to
Robert Hamilton, who was their commander-in-
chief at Bothwell-bridge, he appeared no more
among them, but fled as it was believed to
Holland.
The duke
Steele, and his father before him, held a farm in
the estate of Hamilton, within two or three miles
of that town. When he betook himself to arms the
farm lay waste, and the duke could find no other
person who would venture to take it; whereupon
his grace sent several messages to Steele to know
the reason why he kept the farm waste.
received no other answer than that he would keep
it waste in spite of him and the king too; where-
upon his grace, at whose table I had always the
honour to be a welcome guest, desired I would use
my endeavours to destroy that rogue and I would
oblige him for ever.
The night before the tent was drawn out of my
body, having not slept a wink, I thought myself in
the morning somewhat feverish, and therefore de-
sired my father to send for Dr. Lindsey to let me
blood. In the mean time slumbering a little, I
dreamed that the covenanters were coming to cut
my throat; under this apprehension I awaked, and
found my neighbour captain Saunderson in my
chamber, who was come to visit me. I then called
for my father to dress my wound, when the tent
followed the pipe as I have already said, to my great
joy, for then I knew I should soon be well.
therefore ordered my horse to be got ready, and
rode out with captain Saunderson and my father to
meet Dr. Lindsey, who hearing the joyful news
carried us to a gentleman's house, where we drank
very heartily then I returned home and slept al-
most four-and-twenty hours. Two days after Dr.
Irvin, and his brother the surgeon, came to my fa-
ther's house, where the doctor being informed in
the circumstances of my cure severely chid his bro-king in the Highlands, with my lord Glencairn and
ther for his neglect, swearing he had a mind to
shoot him, and that if I had died my blood would
have been charged on his head. He then ordered
me a remedy which would heal up the wound in
twenty days. This fell out in the beginning of
May; at which time, taking leave of my father
and other friends in Ireland, I returned
Edinburgh, where before the end of that month
my wound was perfectly healed up; but I was
never after so able to bear fatigues as I had hitherto
been.
to
The duke of York was arrived at Edinburgh the
Michaelmas before, where the general, from the
time he left Lanark in July, continued with the
guards; the rest of the forces quartered up and
down in other places. The general, after my ar-
rival, coming every day to see me in his way as he
went to the duke's court, did me the honour to
mention me and my services to his royal highness,
who was desirous to see me; I was admitted to kiss
his hand and ordered to sit down, in regard to my
honourable wounds, which would not suffer me to
stand without great pain. I cannot conceal this
mark of favour and distinction shown me by a great
prince, although I am very sensible it will be im-
puted to vanity. I must remember likewise that
upon my return to Edinburgh, happening to over-
|
I must here take leave to inform the reader that
the duke of Hamilton's friendship for me was
founded upon the many services he knew I had
done the public, as well as upon the relation I bore
to sir Gerard Irvin, the person whom of all the
world his grace most loved and esteemed, ever since
the time they had served in arms together for the
sir Arthur Forbes (father to the present earl of
Granard), after the king's defeat at Worcester,
during the time of the usurpation.
To return therefore to my story: when I awaked
out of my dream, as I had done before in the affair
of Wilson (and I desire the same apology I made in
the Introduction to these Memoirs may serve for
both), I presently rose, and ordered thirty-six dra-
goons to be at the place appointed by break of day.
When we arrived there I sent a party to each of the
five farmers' houses. This villain Steele had mur-
dered above forty of the king's subjects in cold
blood, and as I was informed had often laid snares
to entrap me; but it happened that, although he
usually kept a gang to attend him, yet at this time
he had none, when he stood in the greatest need.
One of my party found him in one of the farmer's
houses, just as I happened to dream. The dragoons
first searched all the rooms below without success,
till two of them, hearing somebody stirring over
their heads, went up a pair of turnpike stairs. Steele
had put on his clothes while the search was making
below; the chamber where he lay was called the
chamber of Decse, which is the name given to a
room where the laird lies when he comes to a te-
nant's house. Steele, suddenly opening the door,
fired a blunderbuss down at the two dragoons as
CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
587
I
they were coming up the stairs; but the bullets,
grazing against the side of the turnpike, only
wounded and did not kill them. Then Steele vio-
lently threw himself down the stairs among them,
and made toward the door to save his life, but lost
it upon the spot; for the dragoons who guarded the
house despatched him with their broadswords.
was not with the party when he was killed, being at
that time employed in searching at one of the other
four houses, but I soon found what had happened
by hearing the noise of the shot made with the blun-
derbuss; from hence I returned straight to Lanark,
and immediately sent one of the dragoons express to
general Drummond at Edinburgh.
General Dalziel died about Michaelmas this year,
and was succeeded by lieutenant-general Drum-
mond, who was likewise my very good friend.
But I cannot here let pass the death of so brave
and loyal a commander as general Dalziel without
giving the reader some account of him, as far as my
knowledge or inquiry could reach.
He was
Thomas Dalziel, among many other officers, was
taken prisoner at the unfortunate defeat at Worces-
ter and sent to the Tower; from whence, I know
not by what means, he made his escape and went to
Muscovy; where the czar then reigning made him
his general: but some time after the restoration of
the royal family he gave up his commission, and re-
pairing to king Charles II. was, in consideration of
his eminent services, constituted commander-in-
chief of his majesty's forces in Scotland; in which
post he continued till his death, excepting only one
fortnight, when he was superseded by the duke of
Monmouth some days before the action at Both-
well-bridge, as I have already related.
bred up very hardy from his youth, both in diet and
clothing. He never wore boots, nor above one
coat, which was close to his body, with close sleeves
like those we call jockey-coats. He never wore a
peruke, nor did he shave his beard since the mur-
der of king Charles I. In my time his head was
bald, which he covered only with a beaver hat, the
brim of which was not above three inches broad.
His beard was white and bushy, and yet reached
down almost to his girdle. He usually went to
London once or twice in a year, and then only to
kiss the king's hand, who had a great esteem for his
worth and valour. His unusual dress and figure,
when he was in London, never failed to draw after
him a great crowd of boys and other young people,
who constantly attended at his lodgings and followed
him with huzzas as he went to court or returned
from it. As he was a man of humour, he would al-
ways thank them for their civilities, when he left
them at the door to go in to the king, and would
let them know exactly at what hour he intended to
come out again and return to his lodgings. When
the king walked in the park, attended by some of
his courtiers, and Dalziel in his company, the same
crowds would always be after him, showing their ad-
miration at his beard and dress, so that the king
could hardly pass on for the crowd; upon which his
majesty bid the devil take Dalziel for bringing such
a rabble of boys together to have their guts squeezed
out while they gaped at his long beard and antique
habit; requesting him at the same time (as Dalziel
used to express it) to shave and dress like other
christians to keep the poor bairns out of danger.
All this could never prevail on him to part with his
beard, but yet in compliance to his majesty he went
once to court in the very height of the fashion: but
as soon as the king and those about him had laughed
sufficiently at the strange figure he made, he re-as-
sumed his usual habit, to the great joy of the boys,
who had not discovered him in his fashionable
dress.
When the duke of York succeeded to the crown
general Dalziel was resolved still to retain his loyalty,
although at the same time he often told his friends,
that all things were going wrong at court; but
death came very seasonably to rescue him from the
difficulties he was likely to be under between the
notions he had of duty to his prince on one side and
true zeal for his religion on the other.
I must now resume a little my discourse upon
captain Steele. Some time before the action in
which he was killed, general Drummond, who was
then newly made commander-in-chief, sent for me
in haste to attend him in Edinburgh. My way lay
through a very strong pass, hard by Airs-moss and
within a mile of Cumlock: as I was going through
Cumlock a friend there told me that Steele with a
party waited for me at the pass.
I had with me
only one dragoon and a drummer: I ordered the
latter to gallop on straight to the pass, and when he
had got thither to beat a dragoon march, while I
with the dragoon should ride along the bye-path on
the edge of the moss. When Steele and his men
heard the drum they scoured cross the bye-path into
the moss, apprehending that a strong party was
coming in search of them: but either I or the dra-
goon (I forgot which) shot one of the rebels dead,
as he crossed us to get into the moss.-To put an end
to this business of Steele: When the dragoon whom
I sent express had delivered his message to general
Drummond, he was just setting out for his country
house at Dumblain; but returned to his lodgings
and wrote me a letter that he would send for me up
after the holidays and recommend me to the govern-
ment to reward me for my services. He faithfully
kept his word, but I received nothing more than
promises.
Steele was buried in the churchyard of Lisma-
hago by some of his friends; who, after the Revo-
lution, erected a fair monument on pillars over his
grave, and caused an epitaph to be engraved on the
stone in words to this effect :-
"Here lieth the body of captain David Steele, a
saint, who was murdered by John Creichton”
[with the date underneath].
Some of my friends burlesqued this epitaph in the
following manner :—
Here lies the body of Saint Steele,
Murdered by John Creichton, that de'el.
Duke Hamilton, in queen Anne's time, informed
me of this honour done to that infamous rebel: and
when I had said to his grace that I wished he had
ordered his footmen to demolish the monument, the
duke answered he would not have done so for 3007.,
because it would be an honour to me as long as it
lasted.a
The last summer, about the end of May if I re-
member right (and I desire to be excused for not
always relating things in the order when they hap-
pened), the marquis of Argyle, after having escaped
out of the castle of Edinburgh into Holland, re-
turned to invade Scotland, to support the duke of
Monmouth's pretensions to the crown as was gene-
rally believed. He landed in his own country in
the highlands, with a party of Dutch and some
Scottish gentlemen who had fled for treason; among
whom sir John Cochran was of the greatest note:
whereupon the government ordered the marquis of
Atholl and Mr. Owen Cameron, laird of Lochiel, to
raise their clans and march with their party against
Lismahago.
^ David Steele's monument still exists in the churchyard of
588
MEMOIRS OF
:
Argyle. They did so, and in the evening pitched
their camp close by him. Here in the night Came-
ron, patrolling with a party, met another of his own
men, and taking them for enemies, because they
had lost the word in their cups, killed eight or nine;
among whom two or three happened to be persons
of note. The friends of those who were killed re-
solving if possible to have him hanged, he was
obliged to ride post to the king. He went to his
majesty in the dress in which he had travelled, and
the king, being already informed how the accident
happened, instead of suffering him to tell his story,
commanded him to draw his broadsword, intending
to knight him therewith: but Cameron could not
draw it because the scabbard had got wet on the
way. The king, observing the confusion he was in,
said he knew the reason that kept the sword in the
sheath adding that he never failed to draw it in the
service of his father, his brother, and himself:
whereupon he was knighted with another sword
with the title of sir Owen Cameron. He returned
to Edinburgh, and from thence went as a volunteer
to serve in the standing army, which was then mov-
ing toward the coast of Galloway, to prevent Ar-
gyle from landing. For, upon the opposition he
found from the marquis of Atholl and his men, with
their assistance in the highlands, he shipped his
forces and sailed round to the west, hoping to land
there. But the army moving along the coast always
in sight of him compelled him to return the way he
came, until he landed in his own country again.
From thence, after gathering what supplies of men
he could, he marched and encamped in the evening
within two or three miles of Glasgow. But the
king's army, having sent out scouts to discover what
way he took, encamped over against him the same
evening on an eminence; there being a bog between
both armies.
The king's forces consisted of the earl of Linlith-
gow's regiment of foot-guards, the earl of Mar's of
foot, Clavers's of horse, Dunmore's of dragoons,
Buchan's of foot, and Levingstone's of horse-guards,
with some gentlemen of quality, volunteers; among
whom the earl of Dumbarton was of the greatest
note.
Here the two armies lay in sight of each other;
but before morning Argyle was gone, his High-
landers having deserted him; and then the king's
army went to refresh themselves at Glasgow, waiting
till it could be known which way Argyle had fled.
It was soon understood that he had crossed the Clyde
at Kilpatrick; and that sir John Cochran lay with
a party in a stone-dyke park about ten miles off.
The lord Ross was therefore despatched with a party
of horse, and captain Cleland, who was now my
captain (my friend Stuart being dead), with another
of dragoons, to find them out. When they came up
to the park where sir John Cochran lay with his
Dutch they fired at one another, and some of the
king's soldiers fell, among whom captain Cleland
was one whereupon the troop was given to sir
Adam Blair (who was likewise wounded in that rash
engagement), although, upon duke Hamilton's ap-
plication to the king, I had been promised to suc-
ceed Cleland. But sir Adam and secretary Melford
being brothers-in-law, that interest prevailed.
I must desire the reader's pardon for so frequently
interspersing my own private affairs with those of
the public; but what I chiefly proposed was to
write my own memoirs, and not a history of the times
further than I was concerned in them.
Night coming on the king's party withdrew, leav-
ing sir John Cochran in the park; who, notwith-
standing this little success desired his followers to
|
shift for themselves, and left them before morning.
Argyle next evening was found alone, a mile above
Greenock, at the water-side, endeavouring to get
into a little boat, and grappling with the owner
thereof, a poor weaver. It seems he wanted pre-
sence of mind to engage the man with a piece of
money to set him on the other side. In the mean
time sir John Shaw, riding with some gentlemen to
Greenock, and seeing the struggle, seized the earl
and carried him to Glasgow, from whence he was
sent with a strong guard to Edinburgh and some
time after beheaded.
The next day the army marched toward the
borders against the duke of Monmouth, but an ex-
press arriving of his defeat the troops were com-
manded to repair to their several quarters.
I shall here occasionally relate an unfortunate
accident which happened this summer in Scotland.
M'Donnel laird of Cappagh, in the highlands,
within eight miles of Inverlochy, was unjustly pos-
sessed as most men believed for many years of an
estate which in right belonged to the laird of Mack-
intosh. Both these gentlemen were well affected to
the king. The laird of Cappagh after sowing-time
was over had gone that summer, as it was his cus-
tom, to make merry with his clans on the mountains
till the time of harvest should call him home. But
in his absence Mackintosh and his clans, assisted
with a party of the army by order of the government,
possessed himself of Cappagh's estate: whereupon
M'Donnel and his clans returning from the moun-
tains set upon the enemy, killed several gentlemen
among them, and took Mackintosh himself prisoner.
M'Donnel had given strict orders to his men not to
kill any of the army; but captain M'Kenzie, who
commanded on the other side, making a shot at one
of M'Donnel's men who was pursuing his adversary,
the man, discharging his pistol at the captain, shot
him in the knee, who after having been carried fifty
miles to Inverness to a surgeon died of his wound.
Soon after the government ordered me to detach
60 dragoons, with a lieutenant, cornet, and standard,
and to march with captain Streighton and 200 of the
foot-guards against the M'Donnels; to destroy man,
woman, and child, pertaining to the laird of Cap-
pagh, and to burn his houses and corn. Upon the
approach of our party M'Donnel laird of Cappagh,
dismissing his prisoners, retired farther into the
mountains: whereupon we who were sent against
him continued to destroy all the houses and corn,
from the time of Lammas to the 10th of September;
and then we advanced toward the borders to join
the Scotch army, which at that time was marching
toward England, against the prince of Orange, who
then intended an invasion. We arrived there the
first of October, after a march of 200 miles.
General Drummond being then dead, James
Douglas, brother to the duke of Queensberry, suc-
ceeded him as commander-in-chief; and Graham
laird of Clavers (about this time created lord Dun-
dee)b was major-general. On the first of Octo-
ber the army passed the Tweed, and drew up on
the banks on the English side, where the general
gave a strict charge to the officers that they should
keep their men from offering the least injury in their
march, adding, that if he heard any of the English
complain, the officers should answer for the faults of
This execution seems to have taken place in virtue of an
order from the council, which passed under the royal seal, and
bore the formidable and appropriate title of letters of fire and
sword.
b Grahame of Claverhouse, better known as viscount of
Dundee, was one of the most prominent characters of his age.
He was brave, skilful, and indefatigable as a commander, but
cruel in military execution.
CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
589
their men; and so they arrived at Carlisle that
night.
Next day general Douglas, by order from the
king, marched the foot by Chester toward London;
and Dundee the horse by York, at which city he
arrived in four or five days. The army did not
reach London till about the 25th of October, being
ordered by the contrivance of Douglas the general to
march slow, on purpose that the prince of Orange
might land before the king's forces should grow
strong enough to oppose him.
The Scotch army at this time consisted of four
regiments of foot, one of horse, one of dragoons, one
troop of horse-guards; and it was computed that the
earl of Feversham, who was then general of all the
king's forces, had under his command, of English,
Scotch, and Irish, an army of near 30,000 men.
Soon after the prince's landing the king went to
Salisbury with a guard of 200 horse, commanded by
the old earl of Airlie, two days before the body of
the army came up to him. The earl of Airlie, when
he was lord Ogleby, had attended the great marquis
of Montrose in all his actions for kings Charles I. and
II. But, at this time being old, it was reported
that he was dead before the Scotch forces went into
England to oppose the prince of Orange; where-
upon the king, believing the report, had given his
troop in Dundee's regiment to the earl of Annan-
dale. But the earl, having overtaken the army at
Cambridge in their march, went on to London,
and there presenting himself before the king, his
majesty was so just and gracious that he immediately
restored his lordship to the troop, ordering him at
the same time to command those two hundred men
who attended him down to Salisbury.
When all the forces were arrived at Salisbury the
earl of Dunmore, with his regiment of dragoons
(wherein I served), was ordered to pass three miles
below the city, where I commanded the guard that
night.
The same morning that the army arrived the great
men about the king, as the lord Churchill, &c., to
the number of thirty, advised his majesty to take the
air on horseback, intending, as the earl of Dunmore
was informed, to give up their master to the prince;
but the king, probably suspecting their design, re-
turned in haste to the city. Next night, at a coun-
cil of war called to consult what was fittest to
be done in the present juncture of affairs, the very
same great men swore to stand by his majesty with
their lives and fortunes; and as soon as he was
gone to rest, mounting on horseback, they all went
over to the prince except the earl of Feversham,
Dumbarton, and a very few more for the earl of
Dumbarton going to his majesty for orders at four of
the clock in the morning found they were all de-
parted.
Dundee, with all the officers who adhered to the
king, were ordered to meet his majesty at Uxbridge,
where he designed to fight the prince; the earl of
Feversham got thither before the king and the army
arrived. When the forces drew together every party
sent an officer to the earl of Feversham to receive
his commands. I attended his lordship for my lord
Dundee, and was ordered with the rest to wait till
the king came to dinner, his majesty being expected
within half an hour; but it fell out otherwise; for
the earl, to his great surprise, received a letter from
the king signifying that his majesty was gone off
When I
and had no further service for the army.
carried this news to my lord Dundee, neither his
lordship nor the lords Linlithgow and Dunmore
could forbear falling into tears; after which, being
at a loss what course to take, I said to my lord Dun-
dee that as he had brought us out of Scotland he
should convey us thither back again in a body; add-
ing that the forces might lie that night at Watford,
six miles off; my advice was followed, and I went
before to get billets where to quarter the men. My
lord Dundee ordered all to be ready at sound of
trumpet, and to unbridle their horses no longer than
while they were eating their oats. The townsmen
contrived to give out a report before day that the
prince of Orange was approaching, hoping to
affright us away with a false alarm; whereupon we
marched out, but at the same time drew up in a
strong enclosure at the town's end, resolving to
fight the prince if he should advance toward us. My
lord Dundee despatched me immediately to discover
whether the report of the prince's approach were
true; but I only met a messenger with a letter from
his highness to my lord Dundee, which I received
and delivered to his lordship. The contents of it,
as far as I am able to recollect, were as follow:
"MY LORD DUNDEE,-I understand you are now
at Watford, and that you keep your men together;
I desire you may stay there till further orders; and
upon my honour none in my army shall touch you.
"W. H. PRINCE OF ORANGE,"
Upon the receipt of this letter our forces returned
into the town, set up their horses, and refreshed
themselves. About three in the afternoon there
came intelligence that the king would be at White-
hall that night, having returned from Feversham,
whither he had fled in disguise, and was ill treated
by the rabble before they discovered him. Upon
this incident the lords Dundee,a Dunmore, Linlith-
gow, and myself, who desired leave to go with my
colonel, took horse, and arriving at Whitehall a little
after the king had the honour to kiss his majesty's
hand.
The next morning the earl of Feversham was sent
by the king with some proposals to the prince of
Orange, who was then at Windsor, where his lord-
ship was put in arrest by the prince's command,
who sent the marquis of Halifax, the earl of Shrews-
bury, and the lord Delamere (if I rightly remember),
to the king, with his highness's order that his ma-
Those few who stayed with the king advised his
majesty to return immediately to London; and the
lord Dundee was ordered to bring up the Scotch
horse and dragoons, with the duke of Berwick's
regiment of horse, to Reading, where he joined Dum-jesty should remove from Whitehall next day before
barton with his forces, and continued there nine or
ten days. There were in all about ten thousand
strong. General Douglas, with his regiment of
foot-guards, passing by Reading lay at Maidenhead ;
from whence one of his battalions revolted to the
prince, under the conduct only of a corporal, whose
name was Kemp. However, Douglas assured the
king that this defection happened against his will,
and yet, when the officers were ready to fire upon
the deserters, his compassion was such that he would
not permit them.
After this the earl of Dumbarton and the lord
twelve o'clock. This order was given about one in
the morning; at the same time a barge was brought
to Whitehall, and a Dutch guard set about the king
without his knowledge, but with directions to see
him safe if he had a mind to go on board any ship
in order to his escape. A ship it seems was like-
wise prepared, and his majesty, attended by the lords
Dunmore, Arran, and Middleton, went on board;
and then the three lords returned to London.-The
a He advised the king to three things; one was to fight the
prince; another to go to him in person and demand his busi-
ness; and the third, to make his way into Scotland.
590
MEMOIRS OF
prince arrived at St. James's about two hours after
his majesty's departure; and the earl of Arran went,
among the rest, to attend his highness, to whom
being introduced, he told the prince that the king
his master had commanded him upon his departure
to wait upon his highness and receive his commands.
The prince replied he was glad to see him, and had
an esteem for him and all men of honour. Then turn-
ing aside to some other persons who were making
their court, Dr. Burnet, soon after made bishop of
Salisbury, who had been the earl of Arran's governor,
coming up to his lordship, cried "Ay, my lord Arran,
you are now come in, and think to make a merit
when the work is done." To this insult the earl in
the hearing of many replied only, "Come, doctor,
we ken ane another weel enough." And the earl's
own father told the prince that if this young fellow
were not secured he would perhaps give his high-
ness some trouble. Whereupon this noble young
lord was sent to the Tower, where he continued
about a year, and then returned to Scotland; and
soon after the young lord Forbes, now earl of Gra-
nard, was likewise imprisoned in the same place.
King William had made several advances to his lord-
ship, as he did to many other persons of quality, to
engage him in his service; and sending for him one
day, asked him why he did not take care of his regi-
ment? My lord Forbes, not being provided on a
sudden with a better answer, told the king that,
having been born in Ireland, he had not credit
enough he believed to raise men to fill up the places
of the papists in his regiment. King William there-
upon said he would take that charge upon himself.
Lord Forbes, having now recollected himself, said he
had likewise another reason why he found it neces-
sary to decline his service, but was unwilling to
mention it, not having the least intention to dis-
oblige his highness.-The prince desired that he
might do it freely, and it should not disoblige him;
whereupon my lord said that, having sworn to retain
his loyalty to king James, he could not in honour
and conscience, without his master's permission, en-
ter into the service of another prince during his ma-
jesty's life. Whereupon king William soon after
thought it proper to send him to the Tower, but
however was so generous as in the time of his con-
finement to send one of the clerks of the treasury
with an order to pay hima 2001., as very reasonably
thinking that under the loss of his regiment as well
as his rents in Ireland he might want money to
support himself. My lord Forbes, having asked the
clerk by whose direction he brought that sum, and
the other answering that he was only ordered to pay
the money to his lordship and to take his receipt,
conjectured this present to have proceeded from king
William, and therefore desired the clerk to present
his most humble respects and thanks to his highness,
and to let him know that as he had never done him
any service he could not in honour receive any
marks of his bounty.
Upon this subject I must add one more particular,
that when my lord Forbes arrived with his regiment
out of Ireland and attended on king James, he ad-
vised his majesty to fight the prince upon the first
opportunity after his landing, before his party should
grow strong; but those about the king who had
already engaged in the other interest would not
suffer that advice to be followed.
I now return to my lord Dundee and my lord
Dunmore. Their lordships acted no longer as colo-
nels when they understood that the prince intended
to place himself on the throne during his majesty's
life; but the first, with the twenty-four troopers who
followed him up from Watford, left London and re-
| paired with the utmost expedition to his own castle;
and the second some time after to Edinburgh, lying
both quiet until the convention of the states of
Scotland was called.
After their lordships were gone to Scotland I
went to Watford, where my lord Kilsyth, as lieu-
tenant-colonel, commanded the lord Dunmore's re-
giment of dragoons; the rest of the army which had
been there being gone to other places. The major-
general M'Coy ordered the lord Kilsyth to march
the regiment from place to place until they should
come to Congerton, a town in Cheshire.
Here they
quartered when the prince and princess of Orange
were proclaimed king and queen of England, &c.,
by the sheriff and three or four bailiffs. It happened
to be a very stormy day; and when the sheriff had
done his office, a crackbrained fellow at the head of
a great rabble proclaimed the duke of Monmouth
king, to the great diversion of the regiment, not be-
lieving he had been beheaded.
When my lord Dunmore refused to serve the
prince of Orange, sir Thomas Levingston, of my
lord Kilsyth's family, got the regiment. This gen-
tleman was born in Holland, and often used to
raise recruits in Scotland, upon which account he
was well known to the regiment. He came down
post to Congerton, and at supper told the officers
that he was sent to know which of them would serve
king William and which would not? Now the oath
of allegiance to that prince having not been offered
to that regiment, one of the company answered that
we, having sworn allegiance to king James, could
not in conscience and honour draw our swords
against him; whereupon sir Thomas, drinking a
health to king James upon his knees, answered that
he wished he might be damned whenever he should
command them to break that oath. And in order
to ingratiate himself further with the regiment, added
that he would return to London next day for a com-
mand to march them straight to Scotland, where
their wives and friends were; and likewise to pro-
cure a captain's commission for me, since sir Adam
Blair, who commanded the troop in which I was
both
lieutenant, had refused to serve king William;
which he accordingly obtained.
When he returned from London he marched with
the regiment directly through Berwick into Scot-
land, and as they passed by Edinburgh (the castle
whereof was kept for king James by the duke of
Gordon), sir Thomas and my lord Kilsyth went into
the town to receive duke Hamilton's command, who
was then high commissioner; and some other offi-
cers went in at the same time to see their wives and
friends.
The duke asked sir Thomas where I was, and
being informed that I was gone to Stirling, desired
I might be sent for. Upon my attending his grace
he was pleased to say that he had been always my
friend, and that he now had it in his power to pro-
vide for me if I would be true to my trust (for he
supposed I had taken the oath to king William);
and upon my answer that I would be true to what
I had sworn the duke replied it was very well.
Upon this occasion, and before I proceed further,
I think it will be proper to make some apology for
my future conduct, because I am conscious that
many people who are in another interest may be apt
to think and speak hardly of me; but I desire they
would please to consider that the revolution was
then an event altogether new, and had put many
men much wiser than myself at a loss how to pro-
I had taken the oath of allegiance to king
ceed.
James, and having been bred up in the strictest
principles of loyalty, could not force my conscience
CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
591
to dispense with that oath during his majesty's life.
All those persons of quality in Scotland to whom I
had been most obliged and on whom I chiefly de-
pended did still adhere to that prince. Those people
whom from my youth I had been taught to abhor,
whom by the commands of my superiors I had con-
stantly treated as rebels, and who consequently con-
ceived an irreconcilable animosity against me, were
upon this great change the highest in favour and
employments. And lastly, the established religion
in Scotland, which was episcopal, under which I
had been educated, and to which I had always borne
the highest veneration, was now utterly destroyed
in that kingdom (although preserved in the other
two), and the presbyterian kirk, which had ever
been my greatest aversion, exalted in its stead.
Upon all these considerations I hope every candid
reader will be so just to believe that, supposing me
in an error, I acted at least sincerely and according
to the dictates of my conscience, and, as it is mani-
fest, without any worldly view, for I had then con-
siderable offers made me, and in all probability
should have been greatly advanced if I could have
persuaded myself to accept them.
Having said thus much to excuse my conduct from
that time forward, I shall now proceed to relate facts
and passages just as they happened, and avoid as
much as possible giving any offence.
My lord Dunmore being then at Edinburgh, I
thought it my duty to pay my respects to his lord-
ship, who had been also my colonel. He was pleased
to invite me to dine with him that day at a tavern,
where he said lieutenant-general Douglas (who had
left England a little before on some pretence or
other), the lord Kilsyth, and captain Murray (all
his ain lads, as his lordship expressed himself), were
to meet him. I objected against Douglas that he
was not to be trusted. This was the same man who
afterwards was lieutenant-general of king William's
army in Ireland against king James, and whose
name will never be forgot in that kingdom on ac-
count of his many ravages and barbarities committed
there: but his lordship answered that he would pawn
his life for his honesty, because my lord Dundee had
assured him that the lieutenant-general had given
him his faith and honour to be with him in five days
if he marched to the hills to declare for king James.
Whereupon I submitted my scruples to my colonel's
judgment, and accordingly we all met together at
the tavern.
Dinner was no sooner done than we heard the
news that king James was landed in Ireland; then
Douglas, taking a beer-glass and looking round him,
said, Gentlemen, we have all eat his bread, and here
is his health, which he drank off on his knees, and
all the company did the same: then filling another
bumper, he drank damnation to all who would ever
draw a sword against him,
I then returned to Stirling, and soon after the
states of Scotland met. To this convention my lord
Dundee went incognito, lest the rabble who had
threatened his person should assault him in the
streets. He made a speech to the house to the follow-
ing purpose: "That he came thither as a peer of the
realm to serve his majesty, and that, if the king had
no service for him, he hoped that honourable assem-
bly would protect him as a peaceable subject from
the rage of his enemies."
Upon receiving an answer from the states that
they could not possibly do it, he slipped out of the
house and privately withdrew from the town,
followed by the twenty-four troopers who had at-
tended him thither; and as he rode by the castle,
seeing the duke of Gordon who commanded it
walking on the walls, he charged his grace to keep
the place for king James till he should hear further
from him, who was then going, he said, to appear in
the field for his majesty.
The
His lordship had no sooner left the town than
one major Bunting with a party, by order from the
convention, followed with directions to seize him;
whereupon my lord Dundee, commanding his attend-
ants to march on gently, stopped to speak with the
major, and understanding his errand advised him to
return, or he would send him back to his masters in
a pair of blankets, as he expressed himself.
major (who perhaps was no enemy to lordship) re-
turned accordingly, and my lord arrived at his castle,
where he stayed only that night, for in the morning,
taking 40007. with him, he went into the highlands
to sir Owen Cameron, where he was soon joined by
the laird of Cappagh, who some time before had been
driven out of his estate by order of king James (as
I have already related), and by many other gentle-
men of quality.
Major-general M'Coy, coming to Edinburgh at
this juncture, was ordered to march the forces which
he brought with him against my lord Dundee. These
forces consisted of three or four regiments of foot
and one of horse, besides sir Thomas Levingston's
of dragoons. They stopped in their march a night
or two at Dundee. The first night I got privately
into the castle (as it had been agreed between my
lord Kilsyth and me), and there assured my lady
Dundee that the regiment of dragoons in which I
served should be at her lord's service whenever he
pleased to command, whereof her ladyship gave
notice next day to her husband, who sent me a note
by a ragged Highlander, which I received as we were
on our march from the town of Dundee towards the
highlands. The contents of my lord's note were,
"That he had written to the king to send him 2000
foot and 1000 horse out of Ireland, and that as soon
as those forces were arrived he would expect me with
a regiment of dragoons."
When major-general M'Coy came within sight of
my lord Dundee, night coming on obliged him to
halt, which gave opportunity to his lordship to retreat
in the morning, but M'Coy followed him all day,
whereupon facing about, my lord advanced toward
him, which caused the major-general to retreat in his
turn. Thus we spent about three weeks, sometimes
pursuing and sometimes pursued; our leader M'Coy
still writing every post for new supplies; till at last
one regiment of dragoons and another of foot came
to his assistance on the 5th of June 1689. When
this reinforcement came, he got intelligence of my
lord Kilsyth's intention and mine of going over with
the regiment to my lord Dundee.
All people agreed that lieutenant-general Douglas,
who had made so many solemn professions of his
loyalty to king James, and whose health he had drunk
on his knees, was the very person who had given
this intelligence to M'Coy, because he alone knew
what had passed at the tavern where we dined, and
because, instead of going with Dundee as he had
promised him upon his faith and honour, he had rid
post for London.
From this period my troubles began, for I was
then sent up to Edinburgh, and there imprisoned in
the tolbooth together with my lord Kilsyth, captain
Levingston, captain Murray, and lieutenant Murray,
each of us in a separate dungeon, with orders that
none should be permitted to speak with us, except
through the keyhole: and in this miserable condition
we lay for two months.
My lord Kilsyth's friends were under great appre-
hensions that I would betray his lordship. But my
592
MEMOIRS OF
lord did me the justice to assure them that I would
suffer the worst extremity rather than be guilty of
so infamous an action, which he said they should
find upon any temptation that might offer. When
we had been close confined in our dungeons for two
months we were brought before the council one by
one to be examined concerning our knowledge of
my lord Kilsyth's intention to carry off the regiment.
Levingston and the two Murrays, having not been
privy to that design, were able to discover nothing
to his lordship's prejudice, and were likewise gentle-
men of too much honour to purchase their liberty
with a lie, whereupon they were remanded back to
their several dungeons. It was my turn to be next
examined, and I was strongly suspected; but not-
withstanding my liberty was promised me if I would
discover all I knew of the matter, the lord advocate
at the same time also urging I must have certainly
been privy to it, I positively denied any knowledge of
that affair, adding that I believed my lord Kilsyth
had never entertained such a design, or if he had
that it was altogether improbable his lordship should
impart it to me, a poor stranger born in Ireland, and
yet keep it a secret from gentlemen of the kingdom
in whom he might much better confide. This I still
repeated and stood to with great firmness even after
I saw the hangman with the torturing boots stand-
ing at my back; whereupon I was likewise returned
to my dungeon.
The council, although they could force no confes-
sion from me or my companions that might affect my
lord Kilsyth, on whose estate their hearts were much
set, yet resolved to make a sacrifice of some one
among us. But the other gentlemen being of their
own kindred and country, and I a stranger as well
as much hated for persecuting the covenanters (who
by the change of the times, measures, and opinions,
were now grown into high favour with the government,
as I have before mentioned), the lot fell on me, and
they gave out a report that I should be hanged within
a few days. But a gentleman then in town, one Mr.
Buchanan, who held a secret correspondence with
my lord Dundee, sent his lordship intelligence of
their resolution concerning me.
That lord was then at the castle of Blair of Atholl,
and having notice of the danger I was in, wrote a
letter to duke Hamilton, president of the council,
desiring his grace to inform the board "that if they
hanged captain Creichton, or if (to use his own
homely expression) they touched a hair of his tail,
he would cut the laird of Blair and the laird of
Pollock joint by joint, and would send their limbs.
in hampers to the council."
These two gentlemen, having been taken prisoners
at St. Johnstown by my lord Dundee, were still kept
in confinement. Whereupon the duke, though it
was night, called the council, which met immediately,
supposing that the business which pressed so much
might relate to some express from court. But when
the clerk read my lord Dundee's letter they appeared
in great confusion; whereupon the duke said, "I
fear we dare not touch a hair of Creichton, for ye
all know Dundee too well to doubt whether he will
be punctual to his word, and the two gentlemen in
his hands are too nearly allied to some here that
their lives should be endangered on this occasion."
What his grace said was very true; for, if I remember
right, the laird of Blair had married a daughter of a
former duke of Hamilton. The issue of the matter
was, that under this perplexity they all cried out,
"Let the fellow live a while longer."
Not long after this happened the battle of Gilli-
cranky (or Killikranky), near the castle of Blair of
Atholl; where the forces under the lord Dundee,
consisting of no more than 1700 foot (all High-
landers, except 300 sent him from Ireland, under
the command of colonel Cannon, when he expected
3000 as I have mentioned), and 45 horse, routed an
army of 5000 men, with major-general M'Coy at
their head, took 1500 prisoners, and killed a great
number, among whom colonel Balfour was one.
M'Coy escaped, and fled that night twenty-five
miles endwise to the castle of Drummond.
But my lord Dundee did not live to see himself
victorious; for as he was wheeling about a rock, over
the enemy's heads, and making down the brae to
attack them (they making a running fire), he was
killed by a random shot at the beginning of the
action; yet his men discovered not his fall till they
had obtained the victory. The next day, though
victorious, they suffered their prisoners to depart on
parole that they would never take up arms against
king James; colonel Fergusson only excepted, on
account of his more than ordinary zeal for the new
establishment.
King William, having heard of this defeat, said
"He knew the lord Dundee so well, that he must
have been either killed or mortally wounded; other-
wise before that time he would have been master of
Edinburgh.”
I now desire leave to return to my own affairs.
About four months after my examination I was ad-
vised in plain words by the dukes of Hamilton and
Queensberry, who were then going up to London,
that I should bribe Melvil, then secretary of Scot-
land, with whom their graces likewise would use
their interest to get an order from king William for
my liberty. But I was so far from having money to
bribe a courtier of the secretary's rank that I had
hardly enough to support myself. Whereupon my
noble friend the lord Kilsyth, who thought himself
indebted to my fidelity for his life and fortune, was
so extremely generous as to make me a present of
500l., which I immediately sent to Melvil; who,
thereupon joining his interest with the good offices
of the two dukes before mentioned, prevailed with
king William to send down an order upon the re-
ceipt of which I was to be set at liberty by the coun-
cil. But they would not obey it; alleging that the
king was misinformed: and out of the abundance
of their zeal wrote to him that if captain Creichton
should obtain his liberty he would murder all Scot-
land in one night.
Thus my hope of liberty vanished; for king Wil-
liam, soon after going to Flanders, and not thinking
it prudent to discredit the representation which the
council had made of me as so very dangerous a per-
son, left me in the tolbooth; though the two dukes,
out of their great friendship (which I should be most
ungrateful ever to forget), had both offered to answer
body for body for my peaceable demeanour.
notwithstanding all this, king William, for the rea-
son before mentioned, left ne prisoner in the
tolbooth, as I said, where I continued two years
and a half longer without one penny of money,
though not without many friends whose charity and
generosity supported me under this heavy affliction.
But
My wife and two boys, with as many daughters,
were in town all the time of my confinement. The
boys died young; but the mother and the two girls.
lived to endure many hardships, having been twice.
plundered by the rabble of the little substance they
had left however they and myself were still provi-
dentially relieved by some friend or other; and par-
ticularly once by the lady Carnwath (mother of the
present earl), who, when we had not one penny left
to buy bread, sent us up a sack of meal and a basket
of fowl sixty miles from Edinburgh.
CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
593
My fellow-prisoners and I after the time of our
examination by the council were allowed for four or
five hours every day to converse with each other and
with our friends: and when we had been three
years in the tolbooth, my companions, being related
to the best families in the kingdom, were at last
permitted on bail to lodge in the city with a sentry
at each of their doors. But I was not allowed the
same favour till two months after, when duke Ha-
milton-still my friend-with much difficulty and
strong application to the council obtained it for me;
and when the order was at last granted, I was at a
great loss to find such a person for my bail whom
the council would approve of, till the laird of Pet-
tencrife, a gentleman whom I had never seen before,
sent up his name (without any application from me)
to the clerk, and was accordingly accepted.
I had not been two months discharged out of the
tolbooth, and removed to a private lodging in the
town with a sentry upon me, when the government
upon some pretence or other filled the castle with a
great number of persons of quality; among whom
were the lords Kilsyth, Hume, and several others;
and the tolbooth again with as many of inferior note
as it could hold.
In a week after I had been permitted to live in
the city with my family I found the sentry had
orders to keep me close, without allowing me to
stir from my lodgings upon any pretence whatso-
ever: but when another regiment came to relieve
that which was before upon duty, I bribed him who
had been my keeper at his going off that he should
tell the first who came in his place that his orders
were to walk with me to any part of the town I
pleased. This was accordingly done; and thence-
forward I used to take my sentry along with me and
visit my old fellow-prisoners the Gillycranky-men,
and sometimes stay with them all night; at other
times my friends would do the same at my lodgings;
among whom the lord William Douglas often did
me that honour: nay, sometimes in company of
some gentlemen, I would leave the sentry drinking
with the footmen in an alehouse at the back of the
town-wall, while we rambled nine or ten miles into
the country to visit some acquaintance or other;
still taking care to return before two in the after-
noon, which was the hour of parade, to save the
sentry from danger.
|
Thus I spent about two months, till the day the
government had filled the castle and the tolbooth
again, as I have mentioned already. As soon as I
was told of my lord Kilsyth's imprisonment I knew
the danger I was in, and had just time to run with
the sentry to a cellar, where I found twelve officers
got together for shelter likewise from the storm a
little before me. We stayed there close till night,
and then despatched my sentry with captain Mair's
footman to the lady Lockhart's (who was married to
the captain), four miles out of town, to let her know
that her husband would be at home that night, with
twelve other cavaliers (for so in those days we af-
fected to style ourselves), to avoid being imprisoned
in the tolbooth.
When the message was delivered the lady ordered
three or four of her servants to take the sentry up
four pair of stairs and to ply him well with drink.
Accordingly they kept him drunk for twelve days
and nights together; so that he neither saw me nor
I him in all that time. Two days after we came to
lady Lockhart's I determined, against her and her
friends' advice, to return privately to Edinburgh, to
discourse with the laird of Pettenerife, my bail; re-
solving at all adventures that so generous a person
should not be a sufferer on my account. I accord-
VOL. I.
ingly repaired in the night to the same alehouse at
the back of the town-wall, and thence sent the
footman who attended me to bring the laird thither.
He presently came with two other gentlemen in his
company; and after drinking together for half an
hour, he bid me "go whither I pleased, and God's
blessing along with me :" whereupon, thrusting me
out at the door in a friendly manner, he added that
he would pay the hundred pounds he was bound in
to the council next morning if demanded of him;
which they accordingly did, and the money was paid.
I then returned to the company at my lady Lock-
hart's, and thence wrote to the two dukes before
mentioned for their advice what course to take.
Their answer was,
Their answer was, "That in regard to my poor
family, I should make my escape to my own coun-
try, and there set potatoes till I saw better times."
At the end of twelve days captain Mair and his
eleven friends got over seas to St. Germains; when
I likewise took my leave of them and the lady to
make the best of my way for Ireland. But I be-
thought me of the poor sentry (to whom the twelve
days we stayed there seemed no longer than two or
three, so well was he plied with drink), and calling
for him, asked whether he would choose to share
with me and my fortunes or go back to the regi-
ment, perhaps to be shot for neglect of his duty?
He readily answered that he would go with me
whitherever I went: and not long after we came
into Ireland I had the good luck to get him made a
serjeant of grenadiers in the regiment formerly com-
manded by my lord Dumbarton, by a captain who
was then gone thither for recruits; in which regi-
ment he died a lieutenant some years after.
The lady at parting made me a present of a good
horse, with ten dollars to bear my charges on the
way; and moreover hired a tenant's horse to carry
the sentry to the borders. I durst not be seen to
pass through Galloway, and therefore went by Car-
lisle to Whitehaven. Here I found an acquaintance
who was minister of the town, of the name of Marr,
a gentleman of great worth and learning. Before
the revolution he had been minister of a parish in
Scotland near the borders; but about the time of
that event the rabble, as he told me the story, came
to his house in the night to rob and murder him,
having treated others of his brethren the episcopal
clergy before in that inhuman manner.
He was a
single man, and had but one man-servant, whose
business was to dress his meat and make his bed;
and while the villains were breaking into the house
he had just time to put on his breeches, stockings,
and shoes, and no more, for by that time they were
got in; when he thought it better to leap out at the
window but half-clothed as he was than to expose
his life to the fury of such whose very mercies might
be cruel. Thus he saved his life and made his es-
cape to the English side with only four dollars in his
pocket; leaving his goods, house, and parish, as
plunder to those saints, who doubtless looked on
such as he was as no other than a usurper of what
of right pertained to them; pursuant to the maxim
"that dominion is founded in grace."
And here I beg leave to relate the treatment
which another episcopal clergyman received from
that tribe about the same time; his name was Kirk-
wood, whom I likewise knew before the revolution,
minister of a parish in Galloway, in Scotland, and
afterward rector in the county of Fermanagh, in
Ireland. Among other good qualities this gentle-
man was a very facetious person; and by his pre-
sence of mind in making use of this talent he had
the good fortune to save both his life and goods from
the fury of those godly men who then thought all
2 Q
594
MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN JOHN CREICHTON.
things their own. When they broke into the house
he was in bed, and sitting up in his shirt desired
leave to speak a few words before he died; which
(I cannot tell how it happened) they granted, and
he spoke to this effect:"That he had always
prayed to God he might die in his bed; adding that
he had in his house as good ale and brandy as was
in all Scotland; and therefore hoped the worthy
gentlemen would do him the honour to drink with
him before they did anything rashly."
This facetious speech, which they little expected
from him in the article of so much danger as then
threatened him, had the luck to divert them from
their bloody purpose, and to make them comply
with his request; so that after drinking plentifully
they said he was a hearty cheel, and left him in
quiet possession of his house and goods. But he
durst not trust his talent to another trial, lest the
next company might not be influenced as this first
had been; and therefore as soon as it was day made
off with his family and effects in the best manner he
could, and rested not until he was safe in Ireland.
I could not forbear relating these stories from the
gentlemen's own mouths, as I might do others of
the same kind upon my own knowledge, although
they are contradictory to what the preachers of the
new-established kirk have so confidently given out.
They would fain have the world believe that they
showed great indulgence to the episcopal clergy at
the Revolution and for several years after. But
they must grant me and others leave not to believe
them; nor ought they to be angry if I give the
reader a further idea of them, and of the spirit that
reigned in synods, conventions, or general assem-
blies of their kirk.
During my confinement in the tolbooth a general
assembly was called, to which my lord Lothian, as
I was informed afterward, was sent commissioner
from king William. His lordship's instructions
were, to signify to them the king's desire that as
many of the episcopal clergy as would take the oath
of allegiance to him might keep possession of their
several parishes. To this the members answered,
in a disdainful manner, "What! shall we suffer
any scabbed sheep among us? Na, na, nat ane;"
and thereupon sent two of their brethren to king
William, who was then in Flanders, to move him
for more favours to the kirk and power further to
oppress the episcopal clergy. But that prince told
them in plain terms that he had been imposed
upon in granting to the kirk the favours she had
already got; and withal commanded them to let the
general assembly know that it was his will and
pleasure that they should live peaceably with those
who were willing to live so with them; otherwise
he would make them know that he was their
master.
With this unwelcome answer from king William
the two spiritual envoys returned to those who sent
them; and at the same time or soon after the
prince despatched an order to the commissioner to
dissolve the assembly if he found them persisting in
their severity toward the episcopal clergy.
|
As soon as the legates delivered the message all
in the assembly began to speak out with the greatest
boldness imaginable, saying "That the king durst
not have sent them such an answer if he had not an
army at his back." Whereupon the commissioner
dissolved the synod, and in the king's name com-
manded all the members to depart to their several
homes.
But instead of obeying that order they all went in
a body, with that poor weak creature the lord Craw-
ford at their head, to the market-cross: and there
published a protestation, declaring that the king had
no authority in church affairs nor any right to dis-
solve their general assembly.
I relate this story as it was told me, not only to
give the reader an idea of the spirit that reigned in
that kirk established now in Scotland, as I have
said, but likewise to do justice to the memory of
king William, which may be the more acceptable as
coming from one who was in a contrary interest.
And indeed I have so good an opinion of that
prince as to believe he would have acted much better
than he did, with regard to the civil and ecclesias-
tical constitution of Scotland, if he had been per-
mitted to govern by his own opinions.
But now to come to the conclusion of my story.
The Hollantide [Feast of All Saints] after I ar-
rived in Ireland, my wife and two daughters fol-
lowed me; and we settled in the county of Tyrone
with my father (who died two years afterward) on
a small freehold, where I made a hard shift to main-
tain them with industry and even manual labour
for about twelve years, till my wife died and my
daughters were married, which happened not very
long after I became a widower.
I am at present in the eighty-third year of my
age, still hated by those people who affirm the old
covenanters to have been unjustly dealt with, and
therefore believe a great number of improbable
stories concerning me: as that I was a common
murderer of them and their preachers, with many
other false and improbable stories. But the reader,
I hope, from whom I have not concealed any one
transaction or adventure that happened to me among
those rebellious people, or misrepresented the least
circumstance, as far as my memory could serve me,
will judge whether he hath reason to believe me to
have been such a person as they represented me,
and to hate me as they do upon that account. And
my comfort is, that I can appeal from their unjust
tribunal to the mercy of God; before whom, by the
who knows
course of nature, I must soon appear,
the integrity of my heart and that my actions (con-
demned by them) were, as far as my understanding
could direct me, meant for the good of the church
and the service of my king and country.
And although such people hate me because they
give, credit to the false reports raised concerning me,
another comfort left me in my old age is that I have
constantly preserved (and still do so) the love and
esteem of all honest and good men to whom I have
had the happiness at any time to be known.
JOHN CREICHTON.
595
MISCELLANEOUS
ODE TO DR. WILLIAM SANCROFT,
ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.
Written in May, 1689, at the desire of the lord bishop of Ely.
SANCROFT, primate of England, at the Revolution joined with
his brethren in resisting the encroachments of James upon
liberty and religion.
TRUTH is eternal, and the son of heaven,
Bright effluence of th' immortal ray,
Chief cherub and chief lamp of that high sacred seven,
Which guard the throne by night, and are its light
First of God's darling attributes, [by day;
Thou daily seest him face to face, [stance
Nor does thy essence fix'd depend on giddy circum-
Of time or place,
Two foolish guides in ev'ry sublunary dance;
How shall we find thee then in dark disputes?
How shall we search thee in a battle gain'd,
Or a weak argument by force maintain'd?
In dagger contests, and th' artillery of words,
(For swords are madmen's tongues, and tongues are
madmen's swords),
Contrived to tire all patience out,
And not to satisfy the doubt?
II.
But where is even thy image on our earth?
For of the person much I fear,
Since heaven will claim its residence as well as birth,
And God himself has said, he shall not find it here.
For this inferior world is but heaven's dusky shade,
By dark reverted rays from its reflection made;
;
Whence the weak shapes wild and imperfect pass,
Like sunbeams shot at too far distance from a glass;
Which all the mimic forms express, [dress
Though in strange uncouth postures, and uncomely
So when Cartesian artists try
To solve appearances of sight
In its reception to the eye,
[light,a
And catch the living landscape through a scanty
The figures all inverted show,
And colours of a faded hue;
Here a pale shape with upward footstep treads,
And men seem walking on their heads;
There whole herds suspended lie,
Ready to tumble down into the sky;
Such are the ways ill-guided mortals go
To judge of things above by things below.
Disjointing shapes as in the fairy land of dreams,
Or images that sink in streams;
No wonder then, we talk amiss
Of truth, and what or where it is;
Say, Muse, for thou, if any, know'st,
Since the bright essence fled, where haunts the reve-
rend ghost?
III.
If all that our weak knowledge titles virtue be
(High Truth!) the best resemblance of exalted thee,
If a mind fix'd to combat fate [Humility,
With those two powerful swords, Submission and
Sounds truly good or truly great;
Ill may I live, if the good Sancroft, in his holy rest,
In the divin'ty of retreat,
The experiment of the dark chamber, to demonstrate light
to be by reception of the object and not by emission.
POEMS.
Be not the brightest pattern earth can show
Of heav'n-born Truth below;
But foolish man still judges what is best
In his own balance, false and light,
Foll'wing opinion, dark and blind,
That vagrant leader of the mind,
Till honesty and conscience are clear out of sight.
IV.
And some, to be large ciphers in a state,
Pleased with an empty swelling to be counted great,
Make their minds travel o'er infinity of space,
Rapt through the wide expanse of thought,
And oft in contradiction's vortex caught,
To keep that worthless clod, the body, in one place;
Errors like this did old astronomers misguide,
Led blindly on by gross philosophy and pride,
Who, like hard masters, taught the sun
Through many a heedless sphere to run,
Many an eccentric and unthrifty motion make,
And thousand incoherent journeys take,
Whilst all th' advantage by it got,
Was but to light earth's inconsiderable spot.
The herd beneath, who see the weathercock of state
Hung loosely on the church's pinnacle,
Believe it firm, because perhaps the day is mild and
But when they find it turn with the first blast of fate,
By gazing upward giddy grow,
[still;
And think the church itself does so ;
Thus fools, for being strong and num'rous known,
Suppose the truth, like all the world, their own ;
And holy Sancroft's motion quite irregular appears,
Because 'tis opposite to theirs.
V.
In vain then would the Muse the multitude advise,
Whose peevish knowledge thus perversely lies
In gath'ring follies from the wise;
Rather put on thy anger and thy spite,
And some kind pow'r for once dispen se
Through the dark mass, the dawn of so much sense,
To make them understand and feel me when I write;
The Muse and I no more revenge desire, [fire;
Each line shall stab, shall blast, like daggers and like
Ah, Britain, land of angels! which of all thy sins
(Say, hapless isle, although
It is a bloody list we know)
Has given thee up a dwelling-place to fiends?
Sin and the plague ever abound
In governments too easy, and too fruitful ground;
Evils which a too gentle king,
Too flourishing a spring,
And too warm summers bring:
Our British soil is over rank, and breeds
Among the noblest flowers a thousand pois'nous
And every stinking weed so lofty grows, [weeds,
As if 'twould overshade the royal rose;
The royal rose, the glory of our morn,
But, ah! too much without a thorn.
VI.
Forgive (original mildness) this ill-govern'd zeal,
Tis all the angry slighted Muse can do
In the pollution of these days;
No province now is left her but to rail,
And poetry has lost the art to praise,
Alas, the occasions are so few:
None e'er but you
And your Almighty Master knew
2 Q2
596
ODE TO ARCHBISHOP SANCROFT.
With heavenly peace of mind to bear
(Free from our tyrant passions, anger, scorn, or fear)
The giddy turns of pop'lar rage,
And all the contradictions of a poison'd age;
The Son of God pronounced by the same breath
Which straight pronounced his death;
And though I should but ill be understood,
In wholly equalling our sin and theirs,
And measuring by the scanty thread of wit
What we call holy, and great, and just, and good,
(Methods in talk whereof our pride and ignorance
make use),
And which our wild ambition foolishly compares
With endless and with infinite ;
Yet pardon, native Albion, when I say,
Among thy stubborn sons there haunts that spirit of
the Jews,
That those forsaken wretches who to-day
Revile his great ambassador,
Seem to discover what they would have done
(Were his humanity on earth once more)
To his undoubted Master, Heaven's Almighty Son.
VII.
But zeal is weak and ignorant, though wond'rous
Though very turbulent and very loud;
[proud,
The crazy composition shows,
Like that fantastic medley in the idol's toes,
Made up of iron mix'd with clay,
This crumbles into dust,
That moulders into rust,
Or melts by the first shower away.
Nothing is fix'd that mortals see or know,
Unless, perhaps, some stars above be so;
And those, alas, do show,
Like all transcendent excellence below;
In both, false mediums cheat our sight,
And far exalted objects lessen by their height :
Thus primitive Sancroft moves too high
To be observed by vulgar eye,
And rolls the silent year
On his own secret regular sphere,
[here.
And sheds, though all unseen, his sacred influence
VIII.
[here,
Kind star, still may'st thou shed thy sacred influence
Or from thy private peaceful orb appear;
For sure we want some guide from heaven to
show
The way which every wand'ring fool below
Pretends so perfectly to know;
And which, for aught I see, and much I fear,
The world has wholly miss'd;
I mean the way which leads to Christ:
Mistaken idiots! see how giddily they run,
Led blindly on by avarice and pride;
What mighty numbers follow them,
Each fond of erring with his guide:
Some whom ambition drives, seek Heaven's high
In Cæsar's court, or in Jerusalem:
Others, ignorantly wise,
[Son
Among proud doctors and disputing Pharisees:
What could the sages gain but unbelieving scorn;
Their faith was so uncourtly, when they said
That Heaven's high Son was in a village born
That the world's Saviour had been
In a vile manger laid,
And foster'd in a wretched inn?
IX.
Necessity, thou tyrant conscience of the great,
Say, why the church is still led blindfold by the state;
Why should the first be ruin'd and laid waste,
To mend dilapidations in the last?
And yet the world, whose eyes are on our mighty
[prince,
Thinks Heaven has cancell'd all our sins,
And that his subjects share his happy influence;
Follow the model close, for so I'm sure they should,
But wicked kings draw more examples than the good;
And divine Sancroft, weary with the weight
Of a declining church, by faction, her worst foe,
Finding the mitre almost grown [oppress'd,
A load as heavy as the crown,
Wisely retreated to his heavenly rest.
X.
Ah! may no unkind earthquake of the state,
Nor hurricano from the crown,
[late,
Disturb the present mitre, as that fearful storm of
Which, in its dusky march along the plain,
Swept up whole churches as it list,
Wrapp'd in a whirlwind and a mist;
Like that prophetic tempest in the virgin reign,
And swallow'd them at last, or flung them down.
Such were the storms good Sancroft long has
borne ;
The mitre, which his sacred head has worn,
Was, like his master's crown, inwreath'd with thorn.
Death's sting is swallow'd up in victory at last,
The bitter cup is from him pass'd;
Fortune in both extremes
Though blasts from contrariety of winds,
Yet to firm heavenly minds,
Is but one thing under two different names;
And even the sharpest eye that has the prospect seen
Confesses ignorance to judge between ;
And must to human reasoning opposite conclude,
To point out which is moderation, which is fortitude.
XI.
[so gay,
Thus Sancroft, in the exaltation of retreat,
Shows lustre that was shaded in his seat;
Short glimm'rings of the prelate glorified;
Which the disguise of greatness only served to hide
Why should the sun, alas! be proud
To lodge behind a golden cloud?
Though fringed with evening gold the cloud appears
'Tis but a low-born vapour kindled by a ray :
At length 'tis overblown and past,
Puff'd by the people's spiteful blast,
The dazzling glory dims their prostituted sight,
No deflower'd eye can face the naked light:
Yet does this high perfection well proceed
From strength of its own native seed,
This wilderness, the world, like that poetic wood of
Bears one, and but one branch of gold,
Where the bless'd spirit lodges like the dove,
And which (to heavenly soil transplanted) will
improve,
[old,
To be, as 'twas below, the brightest plant above;
For, whate'er theologic lev'llers dream,
There are degrees above, I know,
As well as here below,
(The goddess Muse herself has told me so,)
Where high patrician souls, dress'd heavenly gay,
Sit clad in lawn of purer woven day. [given,
There some high-spirited throne to Sancroft shall be
In the metropolis of Heaven;
Chief of the mitred saints, and from archprelate herc,
Translated to archangel there.
XII.
Since, happy saint, since it has been of late
Either our blindness or our fate,
To lose the providence of thy cares
Pity a miserable church's tears,
That begs the powerful blessing of thy pray'rs.
Some angel, say, what were the nation's crimes,
That sent these wild reformers to our times:
Say what their senseless malice meant,
ODE TO SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE.
597
To tear religion's lovely face;
Strip her of ev'ry ornament and grace,
In striving to wash off th' imaginary paint?
Religion now does on her deathbed lie,
Heart-sick of a high fever and consuming atrophy;
How the physicians swarm to show their mortal skill,
And by their college arts methodically kill :
Reformers and physicians differ but in name,
One end in both, and the design the same:
Cordials are in their talk, while all they mean
Is but the patient's death and gain!--
Check in thy satire, angry Muse,
Or a more worthy subject choose:
Let not the outcasts of this outcast age
Provoke the honour of my Muse's rage,
Nor be thy mighty spirit rais'd,
Since Heaven and Cato both are pleas'd-
(The rest of the poem is lost.)
ODE TO THE HON. SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE.
Written at Moor-park in June, 1689.
I.
VIRTUE, the greatest of all monarchies!
Till its first emperor, rebellious man,
Deposed from off his seat,
It fell, and broke with its own weight
Into small states and principalities,
By many a petty lord possess'd,
But ne'er since seated in one single breast.
'Tis you who must this land subdue,
The mighty conquest's left for you,
The conquest and discovery too :
Search out this Utopian ground,
Virtue's Terra Incognita,
Where none ever led the way,
Nor ever since but in descriptions found;
Like the philosopher's stone,
With rules to search it, yet obtain'd by none.
II.
We have too long been led astray;
o long have our misguided souls been taught
With rules from musty morals brought,
Tis you must put us in the way;
Let us (for shame!) no more be fed
With antique relics of the dead,
The gleanings of philosophy;
Philosophy, the lumber of the schools,
The roguery of alchemy;
And we, the bubbled fools,
Spend all our present life in hopes of golden rules.
•
III.
But what does our proud ignorance learning call?
We oddly Plato's paradox make good,
Our knowledge is but mere remembrance all ;
Remembrance is our treasure and our food;
Nature's fair table-book, our tender souls,
We scrawl all o'er with old and empty rules,
Stale memorandums of the schools:
For learning's mighty treasures look
Into that deep grave, a book;
Think that she there does all her treasures hide,
And that her troubled ghost still haunts there since
she died;
Confine her walks to colleges and schools;
Her priest, her train, and followers, show,
As if they all were spectres too!
They purchase knowledge at th' expense
Of common breeding, common sense,
And grow at once scholars and fools;
Affect ill-manner'd pedantry,
Rudeness, ill-nature, incivility.
And sick with dregs and knowledge grown,
Which greedily they swallow down,
Still cast it up, and nauseate company.
IV.
Curst be the wretch! nay, doubly curst!
(If it may lawful be
To curse our greatest enemy),
Who learn'd himself that heresy first
(Which since has seized on all the rest),
That knowledge forfeits all humanity;
Taught us, like Spaniards, to be proud and poor,
And fling our scraps before our door!
Thrice happy you have 'scaped this general pest;
Those mighty epithets, learned, good, and great,
Which we ne'er join'd before, but in romances meet,
We find in you at last united grown.
You cannot be compared to one:
I must, like him that painted Venus' face,
Borrow from every one a grace;
Virgil and Epicurus will not do,
Their courting a retreat like you,
Unless I put in Cæsar's learning too:
Your happy frame at once controls
This great triumvirate of souls.
V.
Let not old Rome boast Fabius' fate;
He sav'd his country by delays,
But you by peace.
You bought it at a cheaper rate;
Nor has it left the usual bloody scar,
To show it cost its price in war;
War, that mad game the world so loves to play,
And for it does so dearly pay;
For, though with loss or victory a while.
Fortune the gamesters does beguile,
Yet at the last the box sweeps all away.
VI.
Only the laurel got by peace
No thunder e'er can blast:
Th' artillery of the skies
Shoots to the earth and dies:
[cries.
And ever green and flourishing 'twill last,
Nor dipp'd in blood, nor widow's tears, nor orphan's
About the head crown'd with these bays,
Like lambent fire, the lightning plays;
Nor its triumphal cavalcade to grace,
Makes up its solemn train with death;
It melts the sword of war, yet keeps it in the sheath.
VII.
The wily shafts of state, those jugglers' tricks,
Which we call deep designs and politics,
(As in a theatre the ignorant fry,
Because the cords escape their eye,
Wonder to see the motions fly),
Methinks, when you expose the scene,
Down the ill-organ'd engines fall;
Off fly the vizards, and discover all :
How plain I see through the deceit!
How shallow and how gross the cheat!
Look where the pulley's tied above!
Great God! (said I) what have I seen!
On what poor engines move
The thoughts of monarchs and designs of states!
What petty motives rule their fates!
How the mouse makes the mighty mountains shake!
The mighty mountain labours with its birth,
Away the frighten'd peasants fly,
Scared at th' unheard-of prodigy,
Expect some great gigantic son of earth;
Lo! it appears!
See how they tremble! how they quake!
Out starts the little mouse, and mocks their idle fears.
598
ODE TO SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE
VIII.
Then tell, dear favourite Muse
What serpent's that which still resorts,
Still lurks in palaces and courts?
Take thy unwonted flight,
And on the terrace light.
See where she lies!
See how she rears her head,
And rolls about her dreadful eyes,
To drive all virtue out, or look it dead!
'Twas sure this basilisk sent Temple thence,
And though as some ('tis said) for their defence
Have worn a casement o'er their skin,
So he wore his within,
Made up of virtue and transparent innocence;
And though he oft renew'd the fight,
And almost got priority of sight,
He ne'er could overcome her quite,
In pieces cut, the viper still did reunite :
Till, at last, tired with loss of time and ease,
Resolved to give himself, as well as country, peace.
IX.
Sing, beloved Muse! the pleasures of retreat,
And in some untouch'd virgin strain
Show the delights thy sister Nature yields;
Sing of thy vales, sing of thy woods, sing of thy fields;
Go, publish o'er the plain
How mighty a proselyte you gain;
How noble a reprisal on the great!
How is the Muse luxuriant grown!
Whene'er she takes this flight
She soars clear out of sight.
These are the paradises of her own:
Thy Pegasus, like an unruly horse,
Though ne'er so gently led,
To the loved pastures where he used to feed,
Runs violent o'er his usual course.
Wake from thy wanton dreams,
Come from thy dear-loved streams,
The crooked paths of wandering Thames.
Fain the fair nymph would stay,
Oft she looks back in vain,
Oft 'gainst her fountain does complain,
And softly steals in many windings down,
As loth to see the hated court and town;
And murmurs as she glides away.
X.
In this new happy scene
Are nobler subjects for your learned pen;
Here we expect from you
More than your predecessor Adam knew;
Whatever moves our wonder or our sport,
Whatever serves for innocent emblems of the court;
How that which we a kernel see
(Whose well-compacted forms escape the light,
Unpierced by the blunt rays of sight)
Shall ere long grow into a tree;
Whence takes it its increase, and whence its birth,
Or from the sun, or from the air, or from the earth,
Where all the fruitful atoms lie;
How some go downward to the root,
Some more ambitiously upward fly,
And form the leaves, the branches, and the fruit.
You strove to cultivate a barren court in vain,
Your garden's better worth your nobler pain,
Here mankind fell, and hence must rise again.
XI.
Shall I believe a spirit so divine
Was cast in the same mould with mine?
Why then does Nature so unjustly share
Among her elder sons the whole estate,
And all her jewels and her plate?
Poor we! cadets of Heaven, not worth her care,
Take up at best with lumber and the leavings of a fate:
Some she binds 'prentice to the spade,
Some to the drudgery of a trade:
Some she does to Egyptian bondage draw,
Bids us make bricks, yet sends us to look out for straw ·
Some she condemns for life to try
To dig the leaden mines of deep philosophy:
Me she has to the Muse's galleys tied:
In vain I strive to cross the spacious main,
In vain I tug and pull the oar;
[again:
And when I almost reach the shore,
Straight the Muse turns the helm, and I launch out
And yet, to feed my pride,
Whene'er I mourn, stops my complaining breath,
With promise of a mad reversion after death.
XII.
Then, sir, accept this worthless verse,
The tribute of an humble Muse,
'Tis all the portion of my niggard stars;
Nature the hidden spark did at my birth infuse,
And kindled first with indolence and ease;
And since too oft debauch'd by praise,
'Tis now grown an incurable disease:
In vain to quench this foolish fire I try
In wisdom and philosophy:
In vain all wholesome herbs I sow,
Where nought but weeds will grow:
Whate'er I plant (like corn on barren earth),
By an equivocal birth,
Seeds, and runs up to poetry.
ODE TO KING WILLIAM,
ON HIS SUCCESSES IN IRELAND.
THE recovery of this Ode was owing to the exertions of Mr.
Nichol. (See his select collection of poems, 1778.)
To purchase kingdoms and to buy renown
Are arts peculiar to dissembling France;
You, mighty monarch, nobler actions crown,
And solid virtue does your name advance.
Your matchless courage with your prudence joins,
The glorious structure of your fame to raise;
With its own light your dazzling glory shines,
And into adoration turns our praise.
Had you by dull succession gain'd your crown,
(Cowards are monarchs by that title made,)
Part of your merit Chance would call her own,
And half your virtues had been lost in shade.
But now your worth its just reward shall have :
What trophies and what triumphs are your due!
Who could so well a dying nation save,
At once deserve a crown, and gain it too!
You saw how near we were to ruin brought,
You saw th' impetuous torrent rolling on;
And timely on the coming danger thought,
Which we could neither obviate nor shun.
Britannia stripp'd of her sole guard, the laws,
Ready to fall Rome's bloody sacrifice;
You straight stepp'd in, and from the monster's jaws
Did bravely snatch the lovely, helpless prize.
Nor this is all; as glorious is the care
To preserve conquests, as at first to gain :
In this your virtue claims a double share,
Which what is bravely won does well maintain.
Your arm has now your rightful title show'd,
An arm on which all Europe's hopes depend,
To which they look as to some guardian God,
That must their doubtful liberty defend.
Amazed, thy action at the Boyne we see!
When Schomberg started at the vast design:
ODE TO THE ATHENIAN SOCIETY.
599
The boundless glory all redounds to thee,
Th' impulse, the fight, th' event, were wholly thine.
The brave attempt does all our foes disarm;
You need but now give orders and command,
Your name shall the remaining work perform,
And spare the labour of your conquering hand.
France does in vain her feeble arts apply
To interrupt the fortune of your course:
Your influence does the vain attacks defy
Of secret malice or of open force.
Boldly we hence the brave commencement date
Of glorious deeds that must all tongues employ ;
William's the pledge and earnest given by Fate
Of England's glory, and her lasting joy.
ODE TO THE ATHENIAN SOCIETY.a
Moor-park, Feb. 14, 1691.
I.
As when the deluge first began to fall,
That mighty ebb never to flow again,
When this huge body's moisture was so great,
It quite o'ercame the vital heat;
That mountain which was highest first of all
Appear'd above the universal main,
To bless the primitive sailor's weary sight;
And 'twas, perhaps, Parnassus, if in height
It be as great as 'tis in fame,
And nigh to heaven as is its name;
So, after th' inundation of a war,
When Learning's little household did embark,
With her world's fruitful system, in her sacred ark,
At the first ebb of noise and fears,
Philosophy's exalted head appears
And the Dove-Muse will now no longer stay,
But plumes her silver wings, and flies away;
And now a laurel wreath she brings from far,
To crown the happy conqueror,
To show the flood begins to cease,
And brings the dear reward of victory and peace.
II.
The eager Muse took wing upon the waves' decline,
When war her cloudy aspect just withdrew,
When the bright sun of peace began to shine,
And for a while in heavenly contemplation sat,
On the high top of peaceful Ararat ;
And pluck'd a laurel branch (for laurel was the first
The first of plants after the thunder, storm, and rain),
And thence, with joyful, nimble wing,
Flew dutifully back again,
[that grew,
And made an humble chaplet for the king.b
And the Dove-Muse is fled once more,
(Glad of the victory, yet frighten'd at the war,)
And now discovers from afar
A peaceful and a flourishing shore:
No sooner did she land
On the delightful strand,
Than straight she sees the country all around,
Where fatal Neptune ruled erewhile,
[crown'd,
Scatter'd with flow'ry vales, with fruitful gardens
And many a pleasant wood;
As if the universal Nile
Had rather water'd it than drown'd:
It seems some floating piece of Paradise,
Preserved by wonder from the flood,
Long wandering through the deep, as we are told
Famed Delos did of old;
"I have been told that Dryden, having perused these verses,
said ' Cousin Swift, you will never be a poct;' and that this
denunciation was the motive of Swift's perpetual malevolence
to Drydon."-JOHNSON.
b The Ode I writ to the king in Ireland.-SWIFT.
And the transported Muse imagined it
To be a fitter birthplace for the God of wit,
Or the much-talk'd-of oracular grove
When, with amazing joy, she hears
An unknown music all around,
Charming her greedy ears
With many a heavenly song
Of nature and of art, of deep philosophy and love;
While angels tune the voice, and God inspires the
In vain she catches at the empty sound, [tongue.
In vain pursues the music with her longing eye,
And courts the wanton echoes as they fly.
III.
Pardon, ye great unknown, and far-exalted men,
The wild excursions of a youthful pen;
Forgive a young and almost virgin Muse,
Whom blind and eager curiosity
(Yet curiosity, they say,
Is in her sex a crime needs no excuse)
Has forced to grope her uncouth way,
After a mighty light that leads her wandering eye:
No wonder then she quits the narrow path of sense
For a dear ramble through impertinence;
Impertinence! the scurvy of mankind.
And all we fools, who are the greater part of it,
Though we be of two different factions still,
Both the good-natured and the ill,
Yet wheresoe'er you look, you'll always find
We join, like flies and wasps, in buzzing about wit.
In me, who am of the first sect of these,
All merit, that transcends the humble rules
Of my own dazzled scanty sense,
Begets a kinder folly and impertinence
Of admiration and of praise.
And our good brethren of the surly sect,
[made
Must e'en all herd us with their kindred fools:
For though, possess'd of present vogue, they've
Railing a rule of wit, and obloquy a trade;
Yet the same want of brains produces each effect.
And you, whom Pluto's helm does wisely shroud
From us, the blind and thoughtless crowd,
Like the famed hero in his mother's cloud,
Who both our follies and impertinences see,
Do laugh, perhaps at theirs, and pity mine and me,
IV.
But censure's to be understood
Th' authentic mark of the elect,
The public stamp Heaven sets on all that's great and
good,
Our shallow search and judgment to direct.
The war, methinks, has made
Our wit and learning narrow as our trade •
Instead of boldly sailing far, to buy
A stock of wisdom and philosophy,
We fondly stay at home, in fear
Of every censuring privateer;
Forcing a wretched trade by beating down the sale,
And selling basely by retail.
The wits, I mean the atheists of the age,
Who fain would rule the pulpit, as they do the stage,
Wondrous refiners of philosophy,
Of morals and divinity,
By the new modish system of reducing all to sense,
Against all logic and concluding laws,
Do own th' effects of Providence,
And yet deny the cause.
V.
This hopeful sect, now it begins to see
How little, very little, do prevail
Their first and chiefest force
To censure, to cry down, and rail,
Not knowing what, or where, or who you be,
600
ODE TO THE ATHENIAN SOCIETY.
*
Will quickly take another course:
And, by their never-failing ways
Of solving all appearances they please,
We soon shall see them to their ancient methods fall,
And straight deny you to be men, or anything at all.
I laugh at the grave answer they will make,
Which they have always ready, general, and cheap:
'Tis but to say that what we daily meet,
And by a fond mistake
Perhaps imagine to be wondrous wit,
And think, alas! to be by mortals writ,
Is but a crowd of atoms justling in a heap:
Which, from eternal seeds begun,
Justling some thousand years, till ripen'd by the sun
They're now, just now, as naturally born,
As from the womb of earth a field of corn.
VI.
But as for poor contented me,
Who must my weakness and my ignorance confess,
That I believe in much I ne'er can hope to see ;
Methinks I'm satisfied to guess,
That this new, noble, and delightful scene,
Is wonderfully moved by some exalted men,
Who have well studied in the world's disease,
(That epidemic error and depravity,
Or in our judgment or our eye,)
That what surprises us can only please.
We often search contentedly the whole world round,
To make some great discovery,
And scorn it when 'tis found.
Just so the mighty Nile has suffer'd in its fame,
Because 'tis said (and perhaps only said)
We've found a little inconsiderable head,
That feeds the huge unequal stream.
Consider human folly, and you'll quickly own
That all the praises it can give,
By which some fondly boast they shall for ever live,
Won't pay th' impertinence of being known:
Else why should the famed Lydian king
(Whom all the charms of an usurped wife and state,
With all that power unfelt, courts mankind to be
great,
Did with new unexperienced glories wait)
Still wear, still dote on his invisible ring?
VII.
Were I to form a regular thought of Fame,
Which is, perhaps, as hard t' imagine right
As to paint Echo to the sight,
I would not draw the idea from an empty name;
Because, alas! when we all die,
Careless and ignorant posterity,
Although they praise the learning and the wit,
And though the title seems to show
The name and man by whom the book was writ,
Yet how shall they be brought to know
Whether that very name was he, or you, or I?
Less should I daub it o'er with transitory praise,
And water-colours of these days:
These days! where e'en th' extravagance of poetry
Is at a loss for figures to express
Men's folly, whimsies, and inconstancy,
And by a faint description makes them less.
Then tell us what is Fame, where shall we search
for it?
Look where exalted Virtue and Religion sit,
Enthroned with heavenly Wit!
Look where you see
The greatest scorn of learned vanity!
(And then how much a nothing is mankind!
Whose reason is weigh'd down by popular air,
Who, by that vainly talks of baffling death;
And hopes to lengthen life by a transfusion of
breath,
Which yet whoe'er examines right will find
To be an art as vain as bottling up of wind!)
And when you find out these, believe true Fame is
there,
Far above all reward, yet to which all is due:
And this, ye great unknown! is only known in
you.
VIII.
The juggling sea-god, when by chance trepann'd
By some instructed querist sleeping on the sand,
Impatient of all answers, straight became
A stealing brook, and strove to creep away
Into his native sea,
Vex'd at their follies, murmur'd in his stream
But disappointed of his fond desire,
Would vanish in a pyramid of fire.
This surly, slippery god, when he design'd
To furnish his escapes,
[air,
Ne'er borrow'd more variety of shapes
Than you, to please and satisfy mankind,
And seem (almost) transform'd to water, flame, and
So well you answer all phenomena there :
Though madmen and the wits, philosophers and fools,
With all that factious or enthusiastic dotards dream,
And all the incoherent jargon of the schools;
Though all the fumes of fear, hope, love, and
shame,
[doubt;
Contrive to shock your minds with many a senseless
Doubts where the Delphic god would grope in igno-
rance and night,
The god of learning and of light
Would want a god himself to help him out.
IX.
Philosophy, as it before us lies,
Seems to have borrow'd some ungrateful taste
Of doubts, impertinence, and niceties,
From every age through which it pass'd,
But always with a stronger relish of the last.
This beauteous queen, by Heaven design'd
To be the great original
For man to dress and polish his uncourtly mind,
In what mock habits have they put her since the fall!
More oft in fools and madmen's hands than sages',
She seems a medley of all ages,
With a huge farthingale to swell her fustian stuff,
A new commode, a topknot, and a ruff,
Her face patch'd o'er with modern pedantry,
With a long sweeping train
Of comments and disputes, ridiculous and vain,
All of old cut with a new dye:
How soon have you restored her charms,
And rid her of her lumber and her books,
Dress'd her again genteel and neat,
And rather tight than great!
How fond we are to court her to our arins!
How much of heaven is in her naked looks!
X.
Thus the deluding Muse oft blinds me to her ways,
And ev❜n my very thoughts transfers
And changes all to beauty and the praise
Of that proud tyrant sex of hers.
The rebel Muse, alas! takes part,
But with my own rebellious heart,
And you with fatal and immortal wit conspire
To fan th' unhappy fire.
Cruel unknown! what is it you intend?
Ah! could you, could you hope a poet for your friend!
Rather forgive what my first transport said:
May all the blood, which shall by woman's scorn be
shed,
Lie upon you and on your children's head!
ODE TO MR. CONGREVE.
601
For you (ah! did I think I e'er should live to see
The fatal time when that could be)!
Have even increased their pride and cruelty
Woman seems now above all vanity grown,
Still boasting of her great unknown
Platonic champions, gain'd without one female wile,
Or the vast charges of a smile;
Which 'tis a shame to see how much of late
You've taught the covetous wretches to o'errate,
And which they've now the consciences to weigh
In the same balance with our tears,
And with such scanty wages pay
The bondage and the slavery of years.
Let the vain sex dream on; the empire comes from us;
And had they common generosity,
They would not use us thus.
Then, with that grief we form in spirits divine
Pleads for her own neglect, and thus reproaches mine.
Once highly honoured! false is the pretence
You make to truth, retreat, and innocence !
Who, to pollute my shades, bring'st with thee down
The most ungenerous vices of the town;
Ne'er sprung a youth from out this isle before
I once esteem'd, and loved, and favour'd more,
Nor ever maid endured such courtlike scorn,
So much in mode, so very city-born;
'Tis with a foul design the muse you send,
Like a cast mistress, to your wicked friend;
But find some new address, some fresh deceit,
Nor practise such an antiquated cheat;
These are the beaten methods of the stews,
Stale forms, of course, all mean deceivers use,
Well-though you've raised her to this high Who barbarously think to 'scape reproach,
degree,
Ourselves are raised as well as she;
And, spite of all that they or you can do,
'Tis pride and happiness enough to me,
Still to be of the same exalted sex with you.
XI.
Alas, how fleeting and how vain
Is even the nobler man, our learning and our wit!
I sigh whene'er I think of it:
As at the closing an unhappy scene
Of some great king and conqueror's death,
When the sad melancholy muse
Stays but to catch his utmost breath.
I grieve this nobler work, most happily begun,
So quickly and so wonderfully carried on,
May fall at last to interest, folly, and abuse.
There is a noontide in our lives,
Which still the sooner it arrives,
Although we boast our winter sun looks bright,
And foolishly are glad to see it at its height,
Yet so much sooner comes the long and gloomy night.
No conquest ever yet begun,
And by one mighty hero carried to its height,
E'er flourish'd under a successor or a son;
It lost some mighty pieces through all hands it pass'd,
And vanish'd to an empty title in the last.
For, when the animating mind is fled,
(Which nature never can retain,
Nor e'er call back again,)
The body, though gigantic, lies all cold and dead.
XII
And thus undoubtedly 'twill fare
With what unhappy men shall dare
To be successors to these great unknown,
On learning's high-establish'd throne.
Censure, and Pedantry, and Pride,
Numberless nations, stretching far and wide,
Shall (I foresee it) soon with Gothic swarms come
forth;
From Ignorance's universal North,
[ment:
And with blind rage break all this peaceful govern-
Yet shall the traces of your wit remain,
Like a just map, to tell the vast extent
Of conquest in your short and happy reign:
And to all future mankind show
How strange a paradox is true,
That men who lived and died without a name
Are the chief heroes in the sacred lists of fame.
TO MR. CONGREVE.
Written in November, 1693.
THRICE, with a prophet's voice and prophet's power,
The muse was called in a poetic hour,
And insolently thrice the slighted maid
Dared to suspend her unregarded aid ;
By prostituting her they first debauch.
Thus did the muse severe unkindly blame
This offering long design'd to Congreve's fame
First chid the zeal as unpoetic fire,
Which soon his merit forced her to inspire;
Then call this verse, that speaks her largest aid,
The greatest compliment she ever made,
;
And wisely judge, no power beneath divine [mine;
Could leap the bounds which part your world and
For, youth, believe, to you unseen, is fix'd
A mighty gulf, unpassable betwixt.
;
Nor tax the goddess of a mean design
To praise your parts by publishing of mine
That be my thought when some large bulky writ
Shows in the front the ambition of my wit;
There to surmount what bears me up, and sing
Like the victorious wren perch'd on the eagle's wing;
This could I do, and proudly o'er him tower,
Were my desires but heighten'd to my power.
Godlike the force of my young Congreve's bays,
Softening the Muse's thunder into praise;
Sent to assist an old unvanquish'd pride
That looks with scorn on half mankind beside;
A pride that well suspends poor mortals' fate,
Gets between them and my resentment's weight.
Stands in the gap 'twixt me and wretched men,
T'avert th' impending judgments of my pen.
Thus I look down with mercy on the age,
By hopes my Congreve will reform the stage:
For never did poetic mind before
Produce a richer vein, or cleaner ore;
The bullion stamp'd in your refining mind
Serves by retail to furnish half mankind.
With indignation I behold your wit
Forced on me, crack'd, and clipp'd, and counterfeit,
By vile pretenders, who a stock maintain
From broken scraps and filings of your brain.
Through native dross your share is hardly known,
And by short views mistook for all their own;
So small the gain those from your wit do reap,
Who blend it into folly's larger heap,
Like the sun's scatter'd beams which loose.y pass,
When some rough hand breaks the assembling glass.
Yet want your critics no just cause to rail,
Since knaves are ne'er obliged for what they steal.
These pad on wit's high road, and suits maintain
With those they rob, by what their trade does gain
Thus censure seems that fiery froth which breeds
O'er the sun's face, and from his heat proceeds,
Crusts o'er the day, shadowing its partent beam,
As ancient nature's modern masters dream
This bids some curious praters here below
Call Titan sick, because their sight is so ;
And well, methinks, does this allusion fit
To scribblers and the god of light and wit;
Those who by wild delusions entertain
A lust of rhyming for a poet's vein,
;
602
ODE TO MR. CONGREVE.
Raise envy's clouds to leave themselves in night,
But can no more obscure my Congreve's light
Than swarms of gnats, that wanton in a ray
Which gave them birth, can rob the world of day.
What northern hive pour'd out these foes to wit?
Whence came these Goths to overrun the pit?
How would you blush the shameful birth to hear
Of those you so ignobly stoop to fear;
For, ill to them, long have I travell'd since,
Round all the circles of impertinence,
Search'd in the nest where every worm did lie
Before it grew a city butterfly;
I'm sure I found them other kind of things
Than those with backs of silk and golden wings;
A search, no doubt, as curious and as wise
As virtuosoes' in dissecting flies:
For, could you think? the fiercest foes you dread,
And court in prologues, all are country bred;
Bred in my scene, and for the poet's sins
Adjourn'd from tops and grammar to the inns ;
Those beds of dung, where schoolboys sprout up beaux
Far sooner than the nobler mushroom grows:
These are the lords of the poetic schools,
Who preach the saucy pedantry of rules;
Those pow'rs the critics, who may boast the odds
O'er Nile, with all its wilderness of gods;
Nor could the nations kneel to viler shapes,
Which worshipp'd cats and sacrificed to apes;
And can you think the wise forbear to laugh
At the warm zeal that breeds this golden calf?
Haply you judge these lines severely writ
Against the proud usurpers of the pit;
Stay while I tell my story, short and true;
To draw conclusions shall be left to you;
Nor need I ramble far to force a rule,
But lay the scene just here at Farnham school.
Last year a lad hence by his parents sent
With other cattle to the city went;
Where having cast his coat, and well pursued
The methods most in fashion to be lewd,
Return'd a finish'd spark this summer down,
Stock'd with the freshest gibberish of the town;
A jargon form'd from the lost language, wit,
Confounded in that Babel of the pit;
Form'd by diseased conceptions, weak and wild,
Sick lust of souls, and an abortive child;
Born between whores and fops, by lewd compacts,
Before the play, or else between the acts;
Nor wonder, if from such polluted minds
Should spring such short and transitory kinds,
Or crazy rules to make us wits by rote,
Last just as long as ev'ry cuckoo's note:
What bungling, rusty tools, are used by fate!
'Twas in an evil hour to urge my hate,
My hate, whose lash just Heaven has long decreed
Shall on a day make sin and folly bleed:
When man's ill genius to my presence sent
This wretch, to rouse my wrath, for ruin meant;
Who in his idiom vile, with Gray's-inn grace,
Squander'd his noisy talents to my face;
Named every player on his fingers' ends,
Swore all the wits were his peculiar friends;
Talk'd with that saucy and familiar ease
Of Wycherly, and you, and Mr. Bays;
Said, how a late report your friends had vex'd,
Who heard you meant to write heroics next;
For, tragedy, he knew, would lose you quite,
And told you so at Will's but t'other night.
Thus are the lives of fools a sort of dreams,
Rend'ring shades things, and substances of names;
Such high companions may delusion keep,
Lords are a footboy's cronies in his sleep.
As a fresh miss, by fancy, face, and gown,
Render'd the topping beauty of the town,
Draws ev'ry rhyming, prating, dressing sot,
To boast of favours that he never got;
Of which, whoe'er lacks confidence to prate,
Brings his good parts and breeding in debate;
And not the meanest coxcomb you can find
But thanks his stars that Phillis has been kind;
Thus prostitute my Congreve's name is grown
To every lewd pretender of the town.
Troth I could pity you; but this is it,
You find, to be the fashionable wit;
These are the slaves whom reputation chains,
Whose maintenance requires no help from brains.
For, should the vilest scribbler to the pit,
Whom sin and want e'er furnish'd out a wit;
Whose name must not within my lines be shown,
Lest here it live, when perish'd with his own;
Should such a wretch usurp my Congreve's place,
And choose out wits who ne'er have seen his face;
I'll be my life but the dull cheat would pass,
Nor need the lion's skin conceal the ass;
Yes, that beau's look, that vice, those critic ears,
Must needs be right, so well resembling theirs.
Perish the Muse's hour thus vainly spent
In satire, to my Congreve's praises meant ;
In how ill season her resentments rule,
What's that to her if mankind be a fool?
Happy beyond a private Muse's fate,
In pleasing all that's good among the great,
Where though her elder sisters crowding throng,
She still is welcome with her inn'cent song;
Whom were my Congreve blest to see and know,
What poor regards would merit all below!
How proudly would he haste the joy to meet,
And drop his laurel at Apollo's feet!
Here by a mountain's side, a reverend cave
Gives murmuring passage to a lasting wave:
'Tis the world's wat'ry hour-glass streaming fast,
Time is no more when th' utmost drop is past;
Here, on a better day, some druid dwelt,
And the young Muse's early favour felt;
Druid, a name she does with pride repeat,
Confessing Albion once her darling seat;
Far in this primitive cell might we pursue
Our predecessors' footsteps still in view;
Here would we sing-But, ah! you think I dream,
And the bad world may well believe the same;
Yes: you are all malicious standers-by,
While two fond lovers prate, the Muse and I.
Since thus I wander from my first intent,
Nor am that grave adviser which I meant,
Take this short lesson from the god of bays,
And let my friend apply it as he please:
Beat not the dirty paths where vulgar feet have trod,
But give the vigorous fancy room.
For when, like stupid alchemists you try
To fix this nimble god,
This volatile mercury,
The subtile spirit all flies up in fume;
Nor shall the bubbled virtuoso find
More than a fade, insipid mixture left behind.a
While thus I write, vast shoals of critics come,
And on my verse pronounce their saucy doom;
The Muse like some bright country virgin shows
Fall'n by mishap among a knot of beaux;
They, in their lewd and fashionable prate,
Rally her dress, her language, and her gait;
Spend their base coin before the bashful maid,
Current like copper, and as often paid:
She, who on shady banks has joy'd to sleep
Near better animals, her father's sheep;
Shamed and amazed, beholds the chattering throng,
To think what cattle she is got among;
■ Out of an ode I writ, inscribed “The Poet." The rest of
it is lost.-Original.
ON SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S ILLNESS AND RECOVERY.
603
But with the odious smell and sight annoy'd,
In haste she does th' offensive herd avoid.a
'Tis time to bid my friend a long farewell,
The Muse retreats far in yon crystal cell;
Faint inspiration sickens as she flies,
Like distant echo spent, the spirit dies.
In this descending sheet you'll haply find
Some short refreshment for your weary mind;
Nought it contains is common or unclean,
And, once drawn up, is ne'er let down again
OCCASIONED BY
SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S
ILLNESS AND RECOVERY.
Written in December, 1693.
STRANGE to conceive how the same objects strike
At distant hours the mind with forms so like!
Whether in time Deduction's broken chain
Meets and salutes her sister link again;
Or haunted Fancy, by a circling flight,
Comes back with joy to its own seat at night;
Or whether dead Imagination's ghost
Oft hovers where alive it haunted most
Or if Thought's rolling globe, her circle run,
Turns up old objects to the soul her sun;
Or loves the Muse to walk with conscious pride
O'er the glad scene whence first she rose a bride :-
Be what it will; late near yon whisp'ring stream,
Where her own Temple was her darling theme;
There first the visionary sound was heard,
When to poetic view the Muse appear'd.
Such seem'd her eyes, as when an evening ray
Gives glad farewell to a tempestuous day;
Weak is the beam to dry up Nature's tears,
Still every tree the pendent sorrow wears;
Such are the smiles where drops of crystal show
Approaching joy at strife with parting woe.
As when, to scare th' ungrateful or the proud,
Tempests long frown, and thunder threatens loud,
Till the blest sun, to give kind dawn of grace,
Darts weeping beams across heaven's watery face;
When soon the peaceful bow unstring'd is shown,
A sign God's dart is shot, and wrath o'erblown :
Such to unhallow'd sight the Muse divine
Might seem when first she raised her eyes to mine.
What mortal change does in thy face appear,
Lost youth, she cried, since first I met thee here!
With how undecent clouds are overcast
Thy looks, when every cause of grief is past!
Unworthy the glad tidings which I bring,
Listen while the Muse thus teaches thee to sing:
As parent earth, burst by imprison'd winds,
Scatters strange agues o'er men's sickly minds,
And shakes the atheist's knees; such ghastly fear
Late I beheld on every face appear;
Mild Dorothea,b peaceful, wise, and great,
Trembling beheld the doubtful hand of fate;
Mild Dorothea, whom we both have long
Not dared to injure with our lowly song;
Sprung from a better world, and chosen then
The best companion for the best of men :
As some fair pile, yet spared by zeal and rage,
Lives pious witness of a better age;
So men may see what once was womankind,
In the fair shrine of Dorothea's mind.
Ah, since our fears are fled, this insolent expel,
At least confine the tyrant to his cell.
And if so black the cloud that heaven's bright
queen
[seen?
Shrouds her still beams; how should the stars be
Thus when Dorinda wept, joy every face forsook,
And grief flung sables on each menial look ;
The humble tribe mourn'd for the quick'ning soul,
That furnish'd spirit and motion through the whole;
So would earth's face turn pale, and life decay,
Should Heaven suspend to act but for a day;
So nature's crazed convulsions make us dread
That time is sick, or the world's mind is dead.
Take, youth, these thoughts, large matter to employ
The fancy furnish'd by returning joy ;
And to mistaken man these truths rehearse,
Who dare revile the integrity of verse:
Ah, favourite youth, how happy is thy lot!
But I'm deceived, or thou regard'st me not;
Speak, for I wait thy answer, and expect
Thy just submission for this bold neglect.
Unknown the forms we the high-priesthood use
At the divine appearance of the Muse,
Which to divulge might shake profane belief,
And tell the irreligion of my grief;
Grief that excused the tribute of my knees,
And shaped my passion in such words as these!
Malignant goddess! bane to my repose,
Thou universal cause of all my woes;
Say whence it comes that thou art grown of late
A poor amusement for my scorn and hate;
The malice thou inspirest I never fail
On thee to wreak the tribute when I rail;
Fools' commonplace thou art, their weak ensconcing
fort,
Th' appeal of dulness in the last resort :
Heaven, with a parent's eye regarding earth,
Deals out to man the planet of his birth :
But sees thy meteor-blaze about me shine,
And, passing o'er, mistakes thee still for mine:
Ah, should I tell a secret yet unknown,
That thou ne'er hadst a being of thy own,
But a wild form dependent on the brain,
Scattering loose features o'er the optic vein;
Troubling the crystal fountain of the sight,
Which darts on poet's eyes a trembling light;
Kindled while reason sleeps, but quickly flies,
Like antic shapes in dreams, from waking eyes
In sum, a glitt'ring voice, a painted name,
A walking vapour, like thy sister Fame.
But if thou be'st what thy mad votaries prate,
A female power, loose govern'd thoughts create;
Why near the dregs of youth perversely wilt thou
So highly courted by the brisk and gay? [stay,
Wert thou right woman, thou should'st scorn to look
On an abandon'd wretch by hopes forsook;
Forsook by hopes, ill fortune's last relief,
Assigned for life to unremitting grief;
For, let Heaven's wrath enlarge these weary days,
If hope e'er dawns the smallest of its rays.
Time o'er the happy takes so swift a flight,
And treads so soft, so easy, and so light,
That we the wretched, creeping far behind,
Can scarce th' impression of his footsteps find;
Smooth as that airy nymph so subtly born
With inoffensive feet o'er standing corn;
You that would grief describe, come here and trace Which, bow'd by evening breeze, with bending stalks
Its watery footsteps in Dorinda's face:
Grief from Dorinda's face does ne'er depart
Farther than its own palace in her heart:
"Would not one imagine that Swift had at this time already
conceived his idea of the Yahoos?
b Sister to sir William Templo.
C
Lady Temple, a very accomplished womau.
Salutes the weary trav'ller as he walks;
But o'er the afflicted with a heavy pace
Sweeps the broad scythe, and tramples on his face.
Down falls the summer's pride, and sadly shows
Nature's bare visage furrow'd as he mows:
Sec, Muse, what havoc in these looks appear,
These are the tyrant's trophies of a year:
604
MRS. FRANCES HARRIS'S PETITION.
Since hope, his last and greatest foe, is fled,
Despair and he lodge ever in its stead;
March o'er the ruin'd plain with motion slow,
Still scatt'ring desolation where they go.
To thee I owe that fatal bent of mind,
Still to unhappy restless thoughts inclined;
To thee, what oft I vainly strive to hide,
That scorn of fools, by fools mistook for pride;
From thee whatever virtue takes its rise,
Grows a misfortune, or becomes a vice;
Such were thy rules to be poetically great
"Stoop not to interest, flattery, or deceit;
Nor with hired thoughts be thy devotion paid
Learn to disdain their mercenary aid;
Be this thy sure defence, thy brazen wall,
Know no base action, at no guilt turn pale :
And since unhappy distance thus denies
T'expose thy soul, clad in this poor disguise;
Since thy few ill-presented graces seem
To breed contempt where thou hast hoped esteem-'
Madness like this no fancy ever seized,
Still to be cheated, never to be pleased;
Since one false beam of joy in sickly minds
Is all the poor content delusion finds.
There thy enchantment broke, and from this hour
I here renounce thy visionary power;
And since thy essence on my breath depends,
Thus with a puff the whole delusion ends.
WRITTEN IN A LADY'S IVORY
TABLE-BOOK, 1698.
PERUSE my leaves through every part,
And think thou seest my owner's heart,
Scrawl'd o'er with trifles thus, and quite
As hard, as senseless, and as light;
Exposed to every coxcomb's eyes,
But hid with caution from the wise.
Here you may read, "Dear charming saint ;"
Beneath, "A new receipt for paint:"
Here, in beau-spelling, "Tru tel deth;"
There, in her own, "For an el breth :"
Here, "Lovely nymph, pronounce my doom!”
There, "A safe way to use perfume :"
Here, a page fill'd with billet-doux ;
On t'other side, "Laid out for shoes"
"Madam, I die without your grace".
"Item, for half a yard of lace."
Who that had wit would place it here,
For every peeping fop to jeer?
To think that your brain's issue is
Exposed to th' excrement of his,
In power of spittle and a clout,
Whene'er he please to blot it out;
And then, to heighten the disgrace,
Clap his own nonsense in the place.
Whoe'er expects to hold his part
In such a book and such a heart,
If he be wealthy and a fool,
Is in all points the fittest tool;
Of whom it may be justly said,
He's a gold pencil tipp'd with lead.
MRS. FRANCES HARRIS'S PETITION. 1700.
To their excellencies the lords justices of Ireland,ª
The humble petition of Frances Harris,
Who must starve and die a maid if it miscarries ;
Humbly sheweth, that I went to warm myself in
lady Betty's chamber, because I was cold;
And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings,
and sixpence, besides farthings, in money and gold;
The carls of Berkeley and of Galway.
Lady Betty Berkeley, afterwards Germain.
So because I had been buying things for my lady
last night,
I was resolved to tell my money, to see if it was right.
Now you must know, because my trunk has a very
bad lock,
Therefore all the money I have, which God knows
is a very small stock,
I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next
my smock.
So when I went to put up my purse, as God would
have it, my smock was unripp'd,
And instead of putting it into my pocket, down it
slipp'd;
Then the bell rung and I went down to put my lady
to bed;
And God knows I thought my money was as safe as
my maidenhead.
So when I came up again I found my pocket feel
very light;
But when I search'd and miss'd my purse, Lord!
I thought I should have sunk outright.
"Lord! madam," says Mary, "how d'ye do ?”—
"Indeed," says I, "never worse:
But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with
my purse?"
"Lord help me!" says Mary, "I never stirr❜d out
of this place!"
Nay," said I, "I had it in lady Betty's chamber,
that's a plain case.”
So Mary got me to bed, and covered me up warm:
However, she stole away my garters, that I might
do myself no harm.
So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very
well think,
But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink.
So I was a-dream'd, methought that I went and
searched the folks round,
And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's a box, tied in a rag,
the money was found.
So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a
swearing:
Then my dame Wadgarc came, and she, you know,
is thick of hearing.
"Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you
know what a loss I have had?"
"Nay," says she, "my lord Colway'sd folks are all
very sad;
с
For my lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without
fail."
"Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that
I ail."
Says Cary, says he, "I have been a servant this
five-and-twenty years come spring,
And in all the places I lived I never heard of such
a thing."
"Yes," says the steward, "I remember when I
was at my lord Shrewsbury's,
Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time of
gooseberries."
So I went to the party suspected, and I found her
full of grief:
(Now you must know of all things in the world I
hate a thief:)
However, I was resolved to bring the discourse slily
about:
"Mrs. Dukes," said I, "here's an ugly accident
has happened out:
Wife to one of the footmon.
The earl of Berkeley's valet. • The old deaf housekeeper.
d Galway.
The earl of Drogheda, who, with the primate, was to succeed
the two carls then lords justices of Ireland.
f Clerk of the kitchen.
6 Ferris; termed in his journal a scoundrel dog.
MRS. FRANCES HARRIS'S PETITION.
605
'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a
louse: a
But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house.
'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence
makes a great hole in my wages:
Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in
these ages.
Now Mrs. Dukes you know, and everybody under-
stands,
That, though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go
without hands."
"The devil take me!" said she (blessing herself),
"if ever I saw't!"
So she roar'd like a bedlam, as though I had call'd
her all to naught.
So you know, what could I say to her any more?
I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was
before.
Well; but then they would have had me gone to
the cunning man:
"No," said I, 'tis the same thing, the CHAPLAIN b
will be here anon."
So the chaplain came in. Now the servants say he
is my sweetheart,
Because he's always in my chamber, and I always
take his part.
So as the devil would have it, before I was aware,
out I blunder'd,
"Parson," said I, "can you cast a nativity when a
body's plunder'd ?"
(Now you must know he hates to be called parson,
like the devil !)
Truly," says he, " Mrs. Nab, it might become you
to be more civil;
If your money be gone, as a learned divine says,c
d'ye see,
You are no text for my handling; so take that
from me:
I was never taken for a conjurer before, I'd have you
to know."
"Lord!" said I, "don't be angry, I am sure I never
thought you so;
You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a
parson's wife;
I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all
my life."
With that he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as
who should say,
"Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so
went away.
Well I thought I should have swoon'd.
:
said I," what shall I do?
"Lord!”
I have lost my money and shall lose my true love
too!"
Then my lord call'd me: "Harry," said my lord,
"don't cry;
I'll give you something toward thy loss:"" And,"
says my lady, "so will I."
"Oh! but," said I, "what if, after all, the chaplain
won't come to ?"
For that, he said (an't please your excellencies), I
must petition you,
The premises tenderly considered, I desire your ex-
cellencies' protection,
And that I mav have a share in next Sunday's collec-
tion;
And over and above, that I may have your excellen-
cies' letter,
With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead
of him, a better:
A usual saying of hers.
• Dr. Bolton, one of the chaplains.
Swift.
4 A cant word of lord and lady Berkeley to Mrs. Harris.
And then your poor petitioner, both night and day,
Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound,
shall ever pray.
A BALLAD ON THE GAME OF TRAFFIC.
Written at the castle of Dublin, 1699.
My lord,a to find out who must deal,
Delivers cards about,
But the first knave does seldom fail
To find the doctor out.
But then his honour cried, Gadzooks!
And seem'd to knit his brow:
For on a knave he never looks
But h' thinks upon Jack How.b
My lady, though she is no player,
Some bungling partner takes,
And, wedged in corner of a chair,
Takes snuff and holds the stakes.
Dame Floyd looks out in grave suspense
For pair royals and sequents;
But wisely cautious of her pence,
The castle seldom frequents.
Quoth Herries, fairly putting cases,
I'd won it on my word,
If I had but a pair of aces,
And could pick up a third.
But Weston has a new-cast gown
On Sundays to be fine in,
And if she can but win a crown,
"Twill just new dye the lining.
"With these is parson Swift,
Not knowing how to spend his time,
Does make a wretched shift,
To deafen them with puns and rhyme."
A BALLAD.
To the tune of the Cutpurse. Written in August, 1702.
I.
ONCE on a time, as old stories rehearse,
A friar would need show his talent in Latin;
But was sorely put to't in the midst of a verse,
Because he could find no word to come pat in;
Then all in the place
He left a void space,
And so went to bed in a desperate case:
When behold, the next morning, a wonderful riddle!
He found it was strangely filled up in the middle.
CHO. Let censuring critics then think what they
list on't;
[ant?
Who would not write verses with such an assist-
II.
This put me the friar into an amazement;
For he wisely consider'd it must be a sprite;
That he came through the keyhole, or in at the case-
ment;
[and write;
And it needs must be one that could both read
Yet he did not know
If it were friend or foe,
Or whether it came from above or below;
Howe'er, it was civil, in angel or elf,
For he ne'er could have fill'd it so well of himself.
CHO. Let censuring, &c.
III.
Even so master Doctor had puzzled his brains
In making a ballad, but was at a stand;
He had mix'd little wit with a great deal of pains,
When he found a new help from invisible hand.
a The earl of Berkeley.
Paymaster to the army.
• Lady Betty Berkeley, finding the preceding verses in the
author's room unfinished, wrote under them the concluding
stanza, which gave occasion to this ballad, written by the
author in a counterfeit hand, as if a third person had done it.
-SWIFT.
606
DISCOVERY-PROBLEM, &c.
THE
Then, good doctor Swift,
Pay thanks for the gift,
For you freely must own you were at a dead lift;
And, though some malicious young spirit did do't,
You may know by the hand it had no cloven foot.
CHO. Let censuring, &c.
THE DISCOVERY.
THE following lines probably had some share in determining
the earl to get rid of so untractable a dependent, by gratifying
him with a living.
WHEN wise lord Berkeley first came here,
Statesmen and mob expected wonders,
Nor thought to find so great a peer
Ere a week past committing blunders.
Till on a day cut out by fate,
When folks came thick to make their court,
Out slipp'd a mystery of state,
To give the town and country sport.
Now enters Bushb with new state airs,
His lordship's premier minister;
And who in all profound affairs
Is held as needful as his clyster.c
With head reclining on his shoulder
He deals and hears mysterious chat,
While every ignorant beholder
Asks of his neighbour, who is that?
With this he put up to my lord,
The courtiers kept their distance due,
He twitch'd his sleeve, and stole a word;
Then to a corner both withdrew.
Imagine now my lord and Bush
Whispering in junto most profound,
Like good king Phyz and good king Ush,d
While all the rest stood gaping round.
At length a spark, not too well bred,
Of forward face and ear acute,
Advanced on tiptoe, lean'd his head,
To overhear the grand dispute :
To learn what northern kings design,
Or from Whitehall some new express,
Papists disarm'd or fall of coin;
For sure (thought he) it can't be less.
My lord, said Bush, a friend and I,
Disguised in two old threadbare coats,
Ere morning's dawn, stole out to spy
How markets went for hay and oats.
With that he draws two handfuls out,
The one was oats, the other hay;
Puts this to's excellency's snout,
And begs he would the other weigh.
My lord seems pleased, but still directs
By all means to bring down the rates;
Then, with a congee circumflex,
Bush, smiling round on all, retreats.
Our listener stood awhile confused,
But gathering spirits, wisely ran for't,
Enraged to see the world abused,
By two such whispering kings of Brentford.
THE PROBLEM.
"That my lord Berkoley stinks when he is in love."
DID ever problem thus perplex,
Or more employ the female sex?
So sweet a passion, who would think,
Jove ever form'd to make a stink!
The ladies vow and swear they'll try
Whether it be a truth or lic.
a To Ireland as one of the lords justices.
Bush, by some undorhand insinuation, obtained the post of
secretary, which had been promised to Swift.
Always taken before my lord went to council,
d See The Rehearsal
Love's fire, it seems, like inward heat,
Works in my lord by stool and sweat,
Which brings a stink from every pore,
And from behind and from before;
Yet, what is wonderful to tell it,
None but the favourite nymph can smell it
But now, to solve the natural cause
By sober philosophic laws;
Whether all passions, when in ferment,
Work out as anger does in vermin;
So, when a weasel you torment,
You find his passion by his scent.
We read of kings who in a fright,
Though on a throne, would fall to sh-
Beside all this, deep scholars know
That the main string of Cupid's bow
Once on a time was an a-
Now to a nobler office put,
gut;
By favour or desert preferr'd
From giving passage to a t- ;
But still, though fix'd among the stars,
Does sympathise with human a—.
Thus, when you feel a hard-bound breech,
Conclude love's bowstring at full stretch,
Till the kind looseness comes, and then
Conclude the bow relax'd again.
And now, the ladies all are bent
To try the great experiment,
Ambitious of a regent's heart,
Spread all their charms to catch a f—.
Watching the first unsavoury wind,
Some ply before and some behind.
My lord, on fire amid the dames,
Fts like a laurel in the flames.
The fair approach the speaking part,
To try the back way to his heart.
For, as when we a gun discharge,
Although the bore be ne'er so large,
Before the flame from muzzle burst,
Just at the breech it flashes first;
So from my lord his passion broke,
He f―d first, and then he spoke.
The ladies vanish in the sinother,
To confer notes with one another;
And now they all agreed to name
Whom each one thought the happy daine.
Quoth Neal, whate'er the rest may think,
I'm sure 'twas I that smelt the stink.
You smell the stink! by G-d, you lie,
Quoth Ross, for I'll be sworn 'twas I.
Ladies, quoth Levens, pray forbear;
Let's not fall out; we all had share;
And by the most I can discover,
My lord's a universal lover.
THE DESCRIPTION OF A SALAMANDER.
1705.
[From Pliny, Nat. Hist. lib. x. c. 67, lib. xxix. c. 4.]
AT the siege of Namur lord Cutts commanded and headed a
storming party, and displayed such cool intrepidity that he was
complimented with the name of the Salamander, as if the scene
of flame and terror had been his proper element.
As mastiff dogs, in modern phrase, are
Call'd Pompey, Scipio, and Cæsar;
As pies and daws are often styled
With christian nicknames, like a child;
As we say Monsieur to an ape,
Without offence to human shape;
So men have got from bird and brute
Names that would best their nature suit.
The Lion, Eagle, Fox, and Boar,
Were heroes' titles heretofore,
Bestow'd as hieroglyphics fit
To show their valour, strength, or wit:
TO THE EARL OF PETERBOROUGH-ON THE UNION, &c.
607
For what is understood by fame,
Besides the getting of a name?
But e'er since men invented guns,
A different way their fancy runs :
To paint a hero, we inquire
For something that will conquer fire.
Would you describe Turenne or Trump?
Think of a bucket or a pump.
Are these too low ?-then find out grander,
Call my LORD CUTTS a Salamander.
'Tis well;-but since we live among
Detractors with an evil tongue,
Who may object against the term,
Pliny shall prove what we affirm:
Pliny shall prove, and we'll apply,
And I'll be judged by standers-by.
First, then, our author has defined
This reptile of the serpent kind,
With gaudy coat, and shining train;
But loathsome spots his body stain:
Out from some hole obscure he flies,
When rains descend and tempests rise,
Till the sun clears the air; and then
Crawls back neglected to his den.
So, when the war has raised a storm,
I've seen a snake in human form,
All stain'd with infamy and vice,
Leap from the dunghill in a trice,
Burnish and make a gaudy show,
Become a general, peer, and beau,
Till peace has made the sky serene,
Then shrink into its hole again.
"All this we grant-why then, look yonder,
Sure that must be a Salamander!"
Further, we are by Pliny told,
This serpent is extremely cold;
So cold, that, put it in the fire,
"Twill make the very flames expire:
Besides, it spews a filthy froth
(Whether through rage or love, or both)
Of matter purulent and white,
Which, happening on the skin to light,
And there corrupting to a wound,
Spreads leprosy and baldness round.
So have I seen a batter'd beau,
By age and claps grown cold as snow,
Whose breath or touch, where'er he came,
Blew out love's torch, or chill'd the flame :
And should some nymph who ne'er was cruel,
Like Carleton cheap, or famed Du-Ruel,
Receive the filth which he ejects,
She soon would find the same effects,
Her tainted carcase to pursue,
As from the salamander's spew;
A dismal shedding of her locks,
And, if no leprosy, a pox.
"Then I'll appeal to each bystander,
If this be not a Salamander?"
TO THE EARL OF PETERBOROUGH.
Who commanded the British forces in Spain.
MORDANTO fills the trump of fame,
The christian worlds his deeds proclaim,
And prints are crowded with his name.
In journeys he outrides the post,
Sits up till midnight with his host,
Talks politics, and gives the toast.
Knows every prince in Europe's face,
Flies like a squib from place to place,
And travels not, but runs a race.
From Paris gazette a-la-main,
This day's arrived, without his train,
Mordanto in a week from Spain.
A messenger comes all a-reek
Mordanto at Madrid to seek;
He left the town above a week.
Next day the postboy winds his horn,
And rides through Dover in the morn:
Mordanto's landed from Leghorn.
Mordanto gallops on alone,
The roads are with his followers strewn,
This breaks a girth, and that a bone;
His body active as his mind,
Returning sound in limb and wind,
Except some leather lost behind.
A skeleton in outward figure,
His meagre corpse, though full of vigour,
Would halt behind him were it bigger.
So wonderful his expedition,
When you have not the least suspicion,
He's with you like an apparition.
Shines in all climates like a star
In senates bold, and fierce in war;
A land commander and a tar :
Heroic actions early bred in,
Ne'er to be match'd in modern reading,
But by his namesake Charles of Sweden.
ON THE UNION.
THE queen has lately lost a part
Of her ENTIRELY-ENGLISH heart,
For want of which, by way of botch,
She pieced it up again with SCOTCH
Bless'd revolution! which creates
Divided hearts, united states!
See how the double nation lies,
Like a rich coat with skirts of frize :
As if a man, in making posies,
Should bundle thistles up with roses.
Who ever yet a union saw
Of kingdoms without faith or law?
Henceforward let no statesman dare
A kingdom to a ship compare ;
Lest he should call our commonweal,
A vessel with a double keel:
Which just like ours, new rigg'd and mann'd
And got about a league from land,
By change of wind to leeward side,
The pilot knew not how to guide.
So tossing faction will o'erwhelm
Our crazy double-bottom'd realm.
TO MRS. BIDDY FLOYD ;
Or, the receipt to form a beauty, 1708.
WHEN Cupid did his grandsire Jove entreat
To form some beauty by a new receipt,
Jove sent, and found, far in a country scene.
Truth, innocence, good nature, look serene:
From which ingredients first the dext'rous boy
Pick'd the demure, the awkward, and the coy.
The Graces from the court did next provide
Breeding, and wit, and air, and decent pride:
These Venus cleans from every spurious grain
Of nice coquet, affected, pert, and vain.
Jove mix'd up all, and the best clay employ'd;
Then call'd the happy composition FLOYD.
THE REVERSE
(TO SWIFT'S VERSES ON BIDDY FLOYD);
OR MRS. CLUDD.
VENUS one day, as story goes,
But for what reason no man knows,
The motto on queen Anne's coronation medal.
608
APOLLO OUTWITTED.-VANBRUGH'S HOUSE.
In sullen mood and grave deport,
Trudged it away to Jove's high court;
And there his godship did entreat
To look out for his best receipt:
And make a monster strange and odd,
Abhorr'd by man and every god.
Jove, ever kind to all the fair,
Nor e'er refused a lady's prayer,
Straight oped 'scrutoire, and forth he took
A neatly bound and well-gilt book;
Sure sign that nothing enter'd there
But what was very choice and rare.
Scarce had he turn'd a page or two,-
It might be more, for aught I knew;
But, be the matter more or less,
'Mong friends 'twill break no squares, I guess ;-
Then, smiling, to the dame quoth he,
Here's one will fit you to a T.
But, as the writing doth prescribe,
'Tis fit the ingredients we provide.
Away he went, and search'd the stews,
And every street about the Mews;
Diseases, impudence, and lies,
Are found and brought him in a trice.
From Hackney then he did provide
A clumsy air and awkward pride;
From lady's toilet next he brought
Noise, scandal, and malicious thought.
These Jove put in an old close-stool,
And with them mix'd the vain, the fool.
But now came on his greatest care,
Of what he should his paste prepare;
For common clay or finer mould
Was much too good such stuff to hold.
At last he wisely thought on mud ;
So raised it up, and call'd it-Cludd.
With this, the lady, well content,
Low curtsied, and away she went.
APOLLO OUTWITTED.
TO THE HONOURABLE MRS. FINCH,
Under her name of Ardelia.
PHEBUS, now shortening every shade,
Up to the northern tropic came,
And thence beheld a lovely maid
Attending on a royal dame.
The god laid down his feeble rays,
Then lighted from his glittering coach;
But fenced his head with his own bays
Before he durst the nymph approach.
Under those sacred leaves, secure
From common lightning of the skies,
He fondly thought he might endure
The flashes of Ardelia's eyes.
The nymph, who oft had read in books
Of that bright god whom bards invoke,
Soon knew Apollo by his looks,
And guess'd his business ere he spoke.
He, in the old celestial cant,
Confess'd his flame, and swore by Styx,
Whate'er she would desire, to grant-
But wise Ardelia knew his tricks.
Ovid had warn'd her to beware
Of strolling gods, whose usual trade is,
Under pretence of taking air,
To pick up sublunary ladies.
Howe'er, she gave no flat denial,
As having malice in her heart;
And was resolved upon a trial,
To cheat the god in his own art.
a Afterwards countess of Wincholsoa.
"Hear my request," the virgin said;
"Let which I please of all the Nine
Attend whene'er I want their aid,
Obey my call, and only mine."
By vow obliged, by passion led,
The god could not refuse her prayer:
He waved his wreath thrice o'er her head,
Thrice mutter'd something to the air.
And now he thought to seize his due;
But she the charm already tried :
Thalia heard the call, and flew
To wait at bright Ardelia's side.
On sight of this celestial prude,
Apollo thought it vain to stay;
Nor in her presence durst be rude,
But made his leg and went away.
He hoped to find some lucky hour,
When on their queen the Muses wait;
But Pallas owns Ardelia's power:
For vows divine are kept by Fate.
Then, full of rage, Apollo spoke :
"Deceitful nymph! I see thy art;
And though I can't my gift revoke,
I'll disappoint its nobler part.
"Let stubborn pride possess thee long,
And be thou negligent of fame;
With every Muse to grace thy song,
May'st thou despise a poet's name!
"Of modest poets be thou first;
To silent shades repeat thy verse,
Till Fame and Echo almost burst,
Yet hardly dare one line rehearse.
"And last, my vengeance to complete,
May'st thou descend to take renown,
Prevail'd on by the thing you hate,
A Whig! and one that wears a gown!"
VANBRUGH'S HOUSE,
Built from the ruins of Whitehall that was burnt, 1703.
In times of old, when Time was young,
And poets their own verses sung,
A verse would draw a stone or beam,
That now would overload a team;
Lead them a dance of many a mile,
Then rear them to a goodly pile.
Each number had its different power;
Heroic strains could build a tower;
Sonnets or elegies to Chloris
Might raise a house about two stories;
A lyric ode would slate; a catch
Would tile; an epigram would thatch.
But, to their own or landlord's cost,
Now poets feel this art is lost.
Not one of all our tuneful throng
Can raise a lodging for a song.
For Jove consider'd well the case,
Observed they grew a numerous race;
And should they build as fast as write,
'Twould ruin undertakers quite.
This evil, therefore, to prevent,
He wisely changed their element:
On earth the god of wealth was made
Sole patron of the building trade;
Leaving the wits the spacious air,
With licence to build castles there :
And 'tis conceived their old pretence
To lodge in garrets comes from thence.
Premising thus, in modern way,
The better half we have to say ;
Sing, Muse, the house of poet Van
In higher strains than we began.
VANBRUGH'S HOUSE.
609
Van (for 'tis fit the reader know it)
Is both a heralda and a poet;
No wonder then if nicely skill'd
In both capacities to build.
As herald, he can in a day
Repair a house gone to decay;
Or, by achievements, arms, device,
Erect a new one in a trice;
And as a poet, he has skill
To build in speculation still.
"Great Jove!" he cried, "the art restore
To build by verse as heretofore,
And make my Muse the architect ;
What palaces shall we erect!
No longer shall forsaken Thames
Lament his old Whitehall in flames;
A pile shall from its ashes rise,
Fit to invade or prop the skies.”
Jove smiled, and, like a gentle god,
Consenting with the usual nod,
Told Van, he knew his talent best,
And left the choice to his own breast.
So Van resolved to write a farce
But, well perceiving wit was scarce,
With cunning that defect supplies,
Takes a French play as lawful prize ;
Steals thence his plot and every joke,
Not once suspecting Jove would smoke;
And (like a wag set down to write)
Would whisper to himself, " a bite."
Then, from this motley mingled style,
Proceeded to erect his pile.
So men of old, to gain renown, did
Build Babel with their tongues confounded.
Jove saw the cheat, but thought it best
To turn the matter to a jest;
Down from Olympus' top he slides,
Laughing as if he'd burst his sides:
Ay, thought the god, are these your tricks?
Why then old plays deserve old bricks;
And since you're sparing of your stuff,
Your building shall be small enough.
He spake, and grudging, lent his aid;
Th' experienced bricks, that knew their trade,
(As being bricks at second hand,)
Now move, and now in order stand.
The building, as the poet writ,
Rose in proportion to his wit-
And first the prologue built a wall,
So wide as to encompass all.
The scene, a wood, produced no more
Than a few scrubby trees before.
The plot as yet lay deep; and so
A cellar next was dug below;
But this a work so hard was found,
Two acts it cost him under ground.
Two other acts, we may presume,
Were spent in building each a room.
Thus far advanced, he made a shift
To raise a roof with act the fifth.
The epilogue behind did frame
A place, not decent here to name.
Now, poets from all quarters ran
To see the house of brother Van;
Look'd high and low, walk'd often round;
But no such house was to be found.
One asks the watermen hard by,
"Where may the poet's palace lie?"
Another of the Thames inquires
If he has seen its gilded spires?
At length they in the rubbish spy
A thing resembling a goose-pie.
Sir John Vanbrugh, then Clarencieux king of arms.
VOL. I.
Thither in haste the poets throng,
And gaze in silent wonder long,
Till one in raptures thus began
To praise the pile and builder Van :-
"Thrice happy poet! who may'st trail
Thy house about thee like a snail;
Or harness'd to a nag, at ease
Take journeys in it like a chaise;
Or in a boat whene'er thou wilt
Canst make it serve thee for a tilt!
Capacious house! 'tis own'd by all
Thou'rt well contrived, though thou art small;
For every wit in Britain's isle
May lodge within thy spacious pile.
Like Bacchus thou, as poets feign,
Thy mother burnt, art born again,
Born like a phoenix from the flame:
But neither bulk nor shape the same;
As animals of largest size
Corrupt to maggots, worms, and flies;
A type of modern wit and style,
The rubbish of an ancient pile;
So chemists boast they have a power
From the dead ashes of a flower
Some faint resemblance to produce,
But not the virtue, taste, or juice.
So modern rhymers wisely blast
The poetry of ages past;
Which, after they have overthrown,
They from its ruins build their own."
THE HISTORY OF VANBRUGH'S HOUSE.
1708.
WHEN mother Cludd had rose from play,
And call'd to take the cards away,
Van saw, but seem'd not to regard,
How miss pick'd every painted card,
And, busy both with hand and eye,
Soon rear'd a house two stories high.
Van's genius, without thought or lecture,
Is hugely turn'd to architecture:
He view'd the edifice, and smiled,
Vow'd it was pretty for a child :
It was so perfect in its kind,
He kept the model in his mind.
But when he found the boys at play,
And saw them dabbling in their clay,
He stood behind a stall to lurk,
And mark the progress of their work ;
With true delight observed them all
Raking up mud to build a wall.
The plan he much admired, and took
The model in his table-book :
Thought himself now exactly skill'd,
And so resolved a house to build :
A real house, with rooms and stairs,
Five times at least as big as theirs;
Taller than miss's by two yards;
Not a sham thing of clay or cards:
And so he did; for in a while
He built up such a monstrous pile,
That no two chairmen could be found
Able to lift it from the ground.
Still at Whitehall it stands in view,
Just in the place where first it grew ;
There all the little schoolboys run,
Envying to see themselves outdone.
From such deep rudiments as these,
Van is become, by due degrees,
For building famed, and justly reckon'd,
At court, Vitruvius the Second:
No wonder, since wise authors show
That best foundations must be low;
2 R
610
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON.
And now the duke has lately ta'en him
To be his architect at Blenheim.
But raillery at once apart,
If this rule holds in every art;
Or if his grace were no more skill'd in
The art of battering walls than building,
We might expect to see next year
A mousetrap-man chief engineer.
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON.
ON THE EVER-LAMENTED LOSS OF THE TWO YEW-
TREES IN THE PARISH OF CHILTHORNE, SOMERSET.
1706.
Imitated from the eighth book of Ovid.
In ancient times, as story tells,
The saints would often leave their cells,
And stroll about, but hide their quality,
To try good people's hospitality.
It happen'd on a winter night,
As authors of the legend write,
Two brother hermits, saints by trade,
Taking their tour in masquerade,
Disguis'd in tatter'd habits, went
To a small village down in Kent;
Where, in the strollers' canting strain,
They begg'd from door to door in vain,
Tried every tone might pity win;
But not a soul would let them in.
Our wandering saints, in woful state,
Treated at this ungodly rate,
Having through all the village pass'd,
To a small cottage came at last
Where dwelt a good old honest ye❜man,
Call'd in the neighbourhood Philemon;
Who kindly did these saints invite
In his poor hut to pass the night;
And then the hospitable sire
Bid goody Baucis mend the fire;
While he from out the chimney took
A flitch of bacon off the hook,
And freely from the fattest side
Cut out large slices to be fried;
Then stepp'd aside to fetch them drink,
Fill'd a large jug up to the brink,
And saw it fairly twice go round;
Yet (what is wonderful) they found
'Twas still replenish'd to the top,
As if they ne'er had touch'd a drop.
The good old couple were amazed,
And often on each other gazed;
For both were frighten'd to the heart,
"What ar't?"
And just began to cry,
Then softly turn'd aside, to view
Whether the lights were burning blue.
The gentle pilgrims, soon aware on't,
Told them their calling and their errand:
"Good folks, you need not be afraid,
We are but saints," the hermits said;
"No hurt shall come to you or yours:
But for that pack of churlish boors,
Not fit to live on christian ground,
They and their houses shall be drown'd;
While you shall see your cottage rise,
And grow a church before your eyes."
They scarce had spoke, when fair and soft
The roof began to mount aloft;
Aloft rose every beam and rafter;
The heavy wall climb'd slowly after.
The chimney widen'd, and grew higher,
Became a steeple with a spire.
The kettle to the top was hoist,
And there stood fasten'd to a joist,
But with the upside down, to show
Its inclination for below:
In vain; for a superior force
Applied at bottom stops its course!
Doom'd ever in suspense to dwell,
'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.
A wooden jack, which had almost
Lost by disuse the art to roast,
A sudden alteration feels,
Increased by new intestine wheels;
And, what exalts the wonder more,
The number made the motion slower.
The flier, though it had leaden feet,
Turn'd round so quick you scarce could see't;
But, slacken'd by some secret power,
Now hardly moves an inch an hour.
The jack and chimney, near allied,
Had never left each other's side:
The chimney to a steeple grown,
The jack would not be left alone;
But up against the steeple rear'd,
Became a clock, and still adhered;
And still its love to household cares,
By a shrill voice at noon, declares,
Warning the cookmaid not to burn
That roast meat which it cannot turn.
The groaning-chair began to crawl,
Like a huge snail, along the wall;
There stuck aloft in public view,
And with small change, a pulpit grew.
The porringers, that in a row
Hung high, and made a glittering show,
To a less noble substance changed
Were now but leathern buckets ranged.
The ballads, pasted on the wall,
Of Joan of France, and English Mall,
Fair Rosamond, and Robin Hood,
The little Children in the Wood,
Now seem'd to look abundance better,
Improved in picture, size, and letter:
And, high in order placed, describe
The heraldry of every tribe.
A bedstead of the antique mode,
Compact of timber many a load,
Such as our ancestors did use,
Was metamorphosed into pews:
Which still their ancient nature keep
By lodging folks disposed to sleep.
The cottage, by such feats as these,
Grown to a church by just degrees,
The hermits then desired their host
To ask for what he fancied most.
Philemon, having paused a while,
Return'd them thanks in homely style;
Then said, "My house is grown so fine,
Methinks I still would call it mine.
I'm old, and fain would live at ease;
Make me the parson if you please.”
He spoke, and presently he feels
His grazier's coat fall down his heels:
He sees, yet hardly can believe,
About each arm a pudding sleeve;
His waistcoat to a cassock grew,
And both assumed a sable hue;
But, being old, continued just
As threadbare and as full of dust.
His talk was now of tithes and dues:
He smoked his pipe and read the news;
Knew how to preach old sermons next,
Vamp'd in the preface and the text;
At christenings well could act his part,
And had the service all by heart;
Wish'd women might have children fast,
And thought whose sow had farrow'd last;
Against dissenters would repine,
And stood up firm for "right divine;"
A GRUB-STREET ELEGY.
611
Found his head filled with many a system;
But classic authors, -he ne'er miss'd 'em.
Thus having furbish'd up a parson,
Dame Baucis next they play'd their farce on.
Instead of homespun coifs, were seen
Good pinners edged with colberteen;
Her petticoat, transform'd apace,
Became black satin, flounced with lace.
"Plain goody" would no longer down,
'Twas "madam," in her grogram gown.
Philemon was in great surprise,
And hardly could believe his eyes,
Amazed to see her look so prim,
And she admired as much at him.
Thus happy in their change of life
Were several years this man and wife;
When on a day, which proved their last,
Discoursing o'er old stories past,
They went by chance, amid their talk,
To the church-yard to take a walk;
When Baucis hastily cried out-
"My dear, I see your forehead sprout!".
"Sprout!" quoth the man; "what's this you tell us?
I hope you don't believe me jealous!
But yet, methinks, I feel it true,
And really yours is budding too—
Nay, -now I cannot stir my foot;
It feels as if 'twere taking root."
Description would but tire my Muse;
In short they both were turn'd to yews.
Old goodman Dobson of the green
Remembers he the trees has seen;
He'll talk of them from noon till night,
And goes with folks to show the sight;
On Sundays, after evening prayer,
He gathers all the parish there ;
Points out the place of either yew,
Here Baucis, there Philemon, grew:
Till once a parson of our town,
To mend his barn cut Baucis down;
At which, 'tis hard to be believed
How much the other tree was grieved,
Grew scrubbed, died a-top, was stunted,
So the next parson stubb'd and burnt it.
A GRUB-STREET ELEGY.
ON THE SUPPOSED DEATH OF PARTRIDGE THE
ALMANAC-MAKER. 1708.
WELL; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd,
Though we all took it for a jest :
Partridge is dead! nay more, he died
Ere he could prove the good 'squire lied.
Strange an astrologer should die
Without one wonder in the sky;
Not one of all his crony stars
To
pay their duty at his hearse!
No meteor, no eclipse appear'd!
No comet with a flaming beard!
The sun has rose and gone to bed,
Just as if Partridge were not dead;
Nor hid himself behind the moon
To make a dreadful night at noon.
He at fit periods walks through Aries,
Howe'er our earthly motion varies;
And twice a-year he'll cut th' equator,
As if there had been no such matter.
Some wits have wonder'd what analogy
There is 'twixt cobblinga and astrology;
How Partridge made his optics rise
From a shoe-sole to reach the skies.
A list the cobbler's temples ties,
To keep the hair out of his eyes:
From whence 'tis plain the diadem
That princes wear derives from them ;
a Partridge was a cobbler.—Swift,
And therefore crowns are now-a-days
Adorn'd with golden stars and rays;
Which plainly shows the near alliance
'Twixt cobbling and the planets' science.
Besides, that slow-paced sign Bootes,
As 'tis miscall'd, we know not who 'tis ;
But Partridge ended all disputes;
He knew his trade and call'd it Boots ! a
The horned moon, which heretofore
Upon their shoes the Romans wore,
Whose wideness kept their toes from corns,
And whence we claim our shoeing-horns,
Shows how the art of cobbling bears
A near resemblance to the spheres.
A scrap of parchment hung by geometry,
(A great refiner in barometry)
Can, like the stars, foretel the weather ;
And what is parchment else but leather?
Which an astrologer might use
Either for almanacs or shoes.
Thus Partridge, by his wit and parts,
At once did practise both these arts;
And as the boding owl (or rather
The bat, because her wings are leather)
Steals from her private cell by night,
And flies about the candle-light;
So learned Partridge could as well
Creep in the dark from leathern cell,
And in his fancy fly as far
To peep upon a twinkling star.
Besides, he could confound the spheres,
And set the planets by the ears;
To show his skill he Mars could join
To Venus, in aspect malign;
Then call in Mercury for aid,
And cure the wounds that Venus made.
Great scholars have in Lucian read,
When Philip king of Greece was dead,
His soul and spirit did divide,
And each part took a different side:
One rose a star; the other fell
Beneath, and mended shoes in hell.
Thus Partridge still shines in each art,
The cobbling and star-gazing part,
And is install'd as good a star
As any of the Cæsars are.
Triumphant star! some pity show
On cobblers militant below,
Whom roguish boys, in stormy nights,
Torment by p-g out their lights,
Or through a chink convey their smoke,
Enclosed artificers to choke.
Though, high exalted in thy sphere,
May'st follow still thy calling there.
To thee the Bull would lend his hide,
By Phoebus newly tann'd and dried;
For thee they Argo's hulk will tax,
And scrape her pitchy sides for wax;
Then Ariadne kindly lends
Her braided hair to make the ends;
The points of Sagittarius' dart
Turns to an awl by heavenly art;
And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife,
Will forge for thee a paring-knife.
For want of room by Virgo's side,
She'll strain a point, and sitb astride,
To take thee kindly in between;
And then the signs will be thirteen.
THE EPITAPH.
HERE, five feet deep, lies on his back
A cobbler, starmonger, and quack;
a See his almanac.-SWIFT.
را
“Tibi brachia contrahit ingens Scorpius, &c.
2 R 2
612
MERLIN'S PROPHECY-DESCRIPTION OF THE MORNING, &c.
Who to the stars, in pure good-will,
Does to his best look upward still.
Weep, all you customers that use
His pills, his almanacs, or shoes;
And you that did your fortunes seek,
Step to his grave but once a-week;
This earth, which bears his body's print,
You'll find has so much virtue in't,
That I durst pawn my ears, 'twill tell
Whate'er concerns you full as well,
In physic, stolen goods, or love,
As he himself could, when above.
MERLIN'S PROPHECY. 1709.
SEVEN and ten, addyd to nine,
a
Of Fraunce her woe this is the sygne,
Tamys rivere twys y-frozen,
Walke sans wetyng shoes ne hozen.
Then comyth foorthe, ich understonde,
From towne of stoffe to fattyn londe,
An hardie chyftan, woe the morne,
To Fraunce, that evere he was born.
Then shall the fysheb beweyle his bosse:
Nor shall grin Berrys make up the losse.
Young Symneled shall again miscarrye;
And Norway's pryde again shall marrye.
And from the tree where blosums feele,
Ripe fruit shall come, and all is wele.
Reaums shall daunce honde in honde,
And it shall be merrye in olde Inglonde;
Then old Inglonde shall be no more,
And no man shall be sorie therefore.
Geryong shall have three hedes agayne,
Till Hapsburgeh makyth them but twayne.
f
A DESCRIPTION OF THE MORNING.
Written in April, 1709; and first printed in the Tatler.
Now hardly here and there a hackney coach
Appearing, show'd the ruddy morn's approach.
Now Betty from her master's bed had flown,
And softly stole to discompose her own;
The slip-shod 'prentice from his master's door
Had pared the dirt and sprinkled round the floor.
Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dextrous airs,
Prepared to scrub the entry and the stairs.
The youth with broomy stumps began to trace
The kennel's edge, where wheels had worn the place.
The small-coal man was heard with cadence deep,
Till drown'd in shriller notes of chimney-sweep:
Duns at his lordship's gate began to meet; [street.
And brickdust Moll had scream'd through half the
The turnkey now his flock returning sees,
Duly let out a-nights to steal for fees:
The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands,
And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands.
A DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER
In imitation of Virgil's Georgics.
Written in October, 1710; and first printed in the Tatler.
CAREFUL observers may foretel the hour
(By sure prognostics) when to dread a shower.
While rain depends, the pensive cat gives o'er
Her frolics and pursues her tail no more.
Returning home at night, you'll find the sink
Strike your offended sense with double stink.
If you be wise, then go not far to dine:
You'll spend in coach-hire more than save in wine.
* Duke of Marlborough.
• Duke of Berry.
e Queen Anne.
b The Dauphin,
d The young pretender.
By the Union.
& A king of Spain, slain by Hercules.
The archduke Charles was of the Hapsburg family.
A coming shower your shooting corns presage,
Old aches will throb, your hollow tooth will rage ;
Sauntering in coffee-house is Dulman seen;
He damns the climate and complains of spleen.
Meanwhile the south, rising with dabbled wings,
A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings,
·
That swill'd more liquor than it could contain,
And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.
Brisk Susan whips her linen from the rope,
While the first drizzling shower is borne aslope;
Such is that sprinkling which some careless quean
Flirts on you from her mop, but not so clean:
You fly, invoke the gods; then turning, stop
To rail; she singing, still whirls on her mop.
Not yet the dust had shunn'd the unequal strife,
But, aided by the wind, fought still for life,
And wafted with its foe by violent gust,
'Twas doubtful which was rain and which was dust.
Ah! where must needy poet seek for aid,
When dust and rain at once his coat invade?
Sole coat! where dust cemented by the rain,
Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain!
Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down,
Threatening with deluge this devoted town.
To shops in crowds the daggled females fly,
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
The Templar spruce, while every spout's abroach,
Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a coach.
The tuck'd-up sempstress walks with hasty strides,
While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's sides.
Here various kinds, by various fortunes led,
Commence acquaintance underneath a shed.
Triumphant Tories, and desponding Whigs,
Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs.
Box'd in a chair the beau impatient sits,
While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits,
And ever and anon with frightful din
The leather sounds; he trembles from within.
So when Troy chairman bore the wooden steed,
Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed,
(Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do,
Instead of paying chairmen, ran them through,)
Laocoon struck the outside with his spear,
And each imprison'd hero quaked for fear.
Now from all parts the swelling kennels flow,
And bear their trophies with them as they go:
Filth of all hues and odour seem to tell
What street they sail'd from by their sight and smell.
They, as each torrent drives with rapid force,
From Smithfield to St. Sepulchre's shape their course,
And in huge confluence join'd at Snowhill-ridge,
Fall from the conduit prone to Holborn-bridge.
Sweeping from butchers' stalls dung, guts, and blood;
Drown'd puppies, stinking sprats, all drench'd in mud,
Dead cats, and turnip-tops come tumbling down the
flood.
ON THE LITTLE HOUSE
BY THE CHURCHYARD OF CASTLENOCK.
WHOEVER pleases to inquire
Why yonder steeple wants a spire
The grey old fellow, poet Joe,a
The philosophic cause will show.
Once on a time a western blast
At least twelve inches overcast,
Reckoning roof, weathercock, and all,
Which came with a prodigious fall;
And tumbling topsy-turvy round,
Lit with its bottom on the ground:
For by the laws of gravitation,
It fell into its proper station.
1710.
a Mr. Beaumont of Trim, remarkable for venerable white
locks.
A TOWN ECLOGUE, &c.
This is the little strutting pile
You see just by the churchyard stile;
The walls in tumbling got a knock,
And thus the steeple got a shock ;
From whence the neighbouring farmer calls
The steeple, Knock; the vicar Walls. a
The vicar once a-week creeps in,
Sits with his knees up to his chin;
Here cons his notes and takes a whet,
Till the small ragged flock is met.
A traveller, who by did pass,
Observed the roof behind the grass ;
On tiptoe stood and rear'd his snout,
And saw the parson creeping out:
Was much surprised to see a crow
Venture to build his nest so low.
A schoolboy ran unto't, and thought
The crib was down, the blackbird caught.
A third, who lost his way by night,
Was forced for safety to alight,
And, stepping o'er the fabric roof,
His horse had like to spoil his hoof.
Warburton took it in his noddle,
This building was design'd a model;
Or of a pigeon-house or oven,
To bake one loaf, or keep one dove in.
Then Mrs. Johnson [Stella] gave her verdict,
And every one was pleased that heard it;
All that you make this stir about
Is but a still which wants a spout.
The reverend Dr. Raymond guess'd
More probably than all the rest;
He said, but that it wanted room,
It might have been a pigmy's tomb.
The doctor's family came by,
And little miss began to cry,
Give me that house in my own hand!
Then madam bade the chariot stand,
Call'd to the clerk, in manner mild,
Pray reach that thing here to the child:
That thing, I mean, among the kale,
And here's to buy a pot of ale.
The clerk said to her in a heat,
What! sell my master's country seat,
Where he comes every week from town!
He would not sell it for a crown.
Poh! fellow, keep not such a pother;
In half an hour thou'lt make another.
d
Says Nancy, I can make for miss
A finer house ten times than this
;
The dean will give me willow sticks,
And Joe my apronful of bricks.
A TOWN ECLOGUE. 1710.
First printed in the Tatler.
Scene, the Royal Exchange.
CORYDON.
Now the keen rigour of the winter's o'er,
No hail descends, and frosts can pinch no more,
While other girls confess the genial spring,
And laugh aloud or amorous ditties sing,
Secure from cold their lovely necks display,
And throw each useless chafing-dish away,
Why sits my Phillis discontented here,
Nor feels the turn of the revolving year
Why on that brow dwell sorrow and dismay,
Where Loves were wont to sport and Smiles to play?
PHILLIS.
Ah, Corydon! survey the 'Change around,
Through all the 'Change no wretch like me is found.
a Archdeacon Wall, a correspondent of Swift's.
Dr. Swift's curate at Laracor. • Minister of Trim.
a The waiting-woman.
Alas! the day when I, poor heedless maid,
Was to your rooms in Lincoln's-inn betray'd;
Then how you swore, how many vows you made!
Ye listening Zephyrs, that o'erheard his love,
Waft the soft accents to the gods above.
Alas! the day; for (O, eternal shame!)
I sold you handkerchiefs, and lost my fame.
COR. When I forget the favour you bestow'd,
Red-herrings shall be spawn'd in Tyburn-road :
Fleet-street, transform'd, become a flowery green,
And mass be sung where operas are seen.
The wealthy cit and the St. James's beau
Shall change their quarters and their joys forego;
Stock-jobbing this to Jonathan's shall come,
At the groom porter's, that play off his plum.
PHIL. But what to me does all that love avail,
If, while I dose at home o'er porter's ale,
Each night with wine and wenches you regale?
My livelong hours in anxious cares are pass'd,
And raging hunger lays my beauty waste.
On templars spruce in vain I glances throw,
And with shrill voice invite them as they go.
Exposed in vain my glossy ribbons shine,
And unregarded wave upon the twine.
613
The week flies round, and when my profit's known,
I hardly clear enough to change a crown.
COR. Hard fate of virtue thus to be distress'd,
Thou fairest of thy trade and far the best;
As fruitmen's stalls the summer market grace,
And ruddy peaches them; as first in place.
Plumcake is seen o'er smaller pastry ware,
And ice on that; so Phillis does appear
In playhouse and in park above the rest
Of belles mechanic, elegantly drest.
PHIL. And yet Crepundia, that conceited fair,
Amid her toys affects a saucy air,
And views me hourly with a scornful eye.
COR. She might as well with bright Cleora vie.
PHIL. With this large petticoat I strive in vain
To hide my folly past and coming pain;
'Tis now no secret; she and fifty more
Observe the symptoms I had once before:
A second babe at Wapping must be placed,
When I scarce bear the charges of the last.
COR. What I could raise I sent; a pound of plums,
Five shillings, and a coral for his gums;
To-morrow I intend him something more.
PHIL. I sent a frock and pair of shoes before.
COR. However, you shall home with me to-night,
Forget your cares, and revel in delight.
I have in store a pint or two of wine,
Some cracknels and the remnant of a chine.
And now on either side, and all around,
The weighty shop-boards fall and bars resound;
Each ready sempstress slips her pattens on,
And ties her hood, preparing to be gone.
L. B. W. H. J. S. S. T.
TO LORD HARLEY, ON HIS MARRIAGE.
1713.
AMONG the members who employ
Their tongues and pens to give you joy,
Dear Harley! generous youth, admit
What friendship dictates more than wit.
Forgive me when I fondly thought
(By frequent observations taught)
A spirit so inform'd as yours
Could never prosper in amours.
The god of wit, and light, and arts,
With all acquired and natural parts,
Whose harp could savage beasts enchant,
Was an unfortunate gallant.
614
PHYLLIS; OR THE PROGRESS OF LOVE.
Had Bacchus after Daphne reel'd,
The nymph had soon been brought to yield;
Or, had embroider'd Mars pursued,
The nymph would ne'er have been a prude.
Ten thousand footsteps, full in view,
Mark out the way where Daphne flew;
For such is all the sex's flight,
They fly from learning, wit, and light;
They fly, and none can overtake
But some gay coxcomb or a rake.
How then, dear Harley, could I guess
That you should meet in love success?
For, if those ancient tales be true,
Phoebus was beautiful as you;
Yet Daphne never slack'd her pace,
For wit and learning spoil'd his face.
And since the same resemblance held
In gifts wherein you both excell'd
I fancied every nymph would run
From you, as from Latona's son.
Then where, said I, shall Harley find
A virgin of superior mind,
With wit and virtue to discover,
And pay the merit of her lover?
This character shall Ca'endish claim,
Born to retrieve her sex's fame.
The chief among the glittering crowd,
Of titles, birth, and fortune proud
(As folks are insolent and vain),
Madly aspired to wear her chain;
But Pallas, guardian of the maid,
Descending to her charge's aid,
Held out Medusa's snaky locks,
Which stupified them all to stocks.
The nymph with indignation view'd
The dull, the noisy, and the lewd;
For Pallas, with celestial light,
Had purified her mortal sight;
Show'd her the virtues all combined,
Fresh blooming, in young Harley's mind.
Terrestrial nymphs, by formal arts,
Display their various nets for hearts:
Their looks are all by method set,
When to be prude and when coquette;
Yet wanting skill and power to choose,
Their only pride is to refuse.
But when a goddess would bestow
Her love on some bright youth below,
Round all the earth she casts her eyes;
And then, descending from the skies,
Makes choice of him she fancies best,
And bids the ravish'd youth be bless'd.
Thus the bright empress of the morn
Chose for her spouse a mortal born :
The goddess made advances first;
Else what aspiring hero durst?
Though, like a virgin of fifteen,
She blushes when by mortals seen;
Still blushes, and with speed retires,
When Sol pursues her with his fires.
Diana thus, Heaven's chastest queen,
Struck with Endymion's graceful mien,
Down from her silver chariot came,
And to the shepherd own'd her flame.
Thus Ca'endish, as Aurora bright,
And chaster than the queen of Night,
Descended from her sphere to find
A mortal of superior kind.
PHYLLIS;
OR THE PROGRESS OF LOVE.
DESPONDING Phyllis was endued
With every talent of a prude:
1716.
She trembled when a man drew near;
Salute her, and she turn'd her ear:
If o'er against her you were placed,
She durst not look above your waist:
She'd rather take you to her bed
Than let you see her dress her head;
In church you hear her, through the crowd,
Repeat the absolution loud:
In church, secure behind her fan,
She durst behold that monster man:
There practised how to place her head,
And bit her lips to make them red;
Or on the mat devoutly kneeling,
Would lift her eyes up to the ceiling,
And heave her bosom unaware
For neighbouring beaux to see it bare.
At length a lucky lover came,
And found admittance to the dame.
Suppose all parties now agreed,
The writings drawn, the lawyer feed,
The vicar and the ring bespoke:
Guess, how could such a match be broke?
See then what mortals place their bliss in!
Next morn betimes the bride was missing:
The mother scream'd, the father chid;
Where can this idle wench be hid?
No news of Phyl! the bridegroom came,
And thought his bride had skulk'd for shame;
Because her father used to say,
The girl had such a bashful way
Now John the butler must be sent
To learn the road that Phyllis went:
The groom was wish'd to saddle Crop;
For John must neither light nor stop,
But find her, wheresoe'er she fled,
And bring her back alive or dead.
See here again the devil to do!
For truly John was missing too:
The horse and pillion both were gone!
Phyllis, it seems, was fled with John.
Öld madam, who went up to find
What papers Phyl had left behind,
A letter on the toilet sees,
"To my much honour'd father-these-"
('Tis always done, romances tell us
When daughters run away with fellowɛ),
Fill'd with the choicest common places,
By others used in the like cases,—
"That long ago a fortune-teller
Exactly said what now befell her;
And in a glass had made her see
A serving-man of low degree.
It was her fate, must be forgiven;
For marriages were made in heaven:
His pardon begg'd: but, to be plain,
She'd do it if 'twere to do again:
Thank'd God, 'twas neither shame nor sin;
For John was come of honest kin.
Love never thinks of rich and poor;
She'd beg with John from door to door.
Forgive her if it be a crime;
She'll never do't another time.
She ne'er before in all her life
Once disobey'd him, maid nor wife.
One argument she summ'd up all in,
The thing was done and past recalling;
And therefore hoped she should recover
His favour when his passion's over.
She valued not what others thought her,
And was his most obedient daughter."
Fair maidens all attend the Muse,
Who now the wandering pair pursues :
Away they rode in homely sort,
Their journey long, their money short;
TO MR. DELANY.
615
The loving couple well bemired;
The horse and both the riders tired:
Their victuals bad, their lodging worse;
Phyl cried! and John began to curse:
Phyl wish'd that she had strain'd a limb,
When first she ventured out with him;
John wished that he had broke a leg,
When first for her he quitted Peg.
But what adventures more befell them,
The Muse has now no time to tell them
How Johnny wheedled, threaten'd, fawn'd,
Till Phyllis all her trinkets pawn'd:
How oft she broke her marriage vows,
In kindness to maintain her spouse,
2
Till swains unwholesome spoil'd the trade;
For now the surgeons must be paid,
To whom those perquisites are gone,
In christian justice due to John.
When food and raiment now grew scarce,
Fate put a period to the farce,
And with exact poetic justice;
For John was landlord, Phyllis hostess;
They keep at Staines the Old Blue Boar,
Are cat and dog, and rogue and whore.
HORACE, BOOK IV. ODE IX.
Addressed to archbishop King. 1718.
VIRTUE Conceal'd within our breast
Is inactivity at best:
But never shall the Muse endure
To let your virtues lie obscure,
Or suffer Envy to conceal
Your labours for the public weal.
Within your breast all wisdom lies,
Either to govern or advise;
Your steady soul preserves her frame
In good and evil times the same.
Pale Avarice and lurking Fraud
Stand in your sacred presence awed;
Your hand alone from gold abstains,
Which drags the slavish world in chains.
Him for a happy man I own
Whose fortune is not overgrown;
And happy he who wisely knows
To use the gifts that heaven bestows;
Or, if it please the powers divine,
Can suffer want and not repine.
The man who infamy to shun
Into the arms of death would run,
That man is ready to defend
With life, his country or his friend.
TO MR. DELANY, Nov. 10, 1718.
THE rev. Patrick Delany, an excellent and learned divine, had
been patronised by sir Constantine Phipps, chancellor of
Ireland under Harley's administration.
To you, whose virtues, I must own
With shame, I have too lately known;
To you by art and nature taught
To be the man I long have sought,
Had not ill Fate, perverse and blind,
Placed you in life too far behind :
Or, what I should repine at more,
Placed me in life too far before:
To
you the Muse this verse bestows,
Which might as well have been in prose;
No thought, no fancy, no sublime,
But simple topics told in rhyme.
Talents for conversation fit
Are humour, breeding, sense, and wit:
The last, as boundless as the wind,
Is well conceived, though not defined;
For, sure by wit is chiefly meant
Applying well what we invent.
What humour is, not all the tribe
Of logic-mongers can describe;
Here nature only acts her part,
Unhelp'd by practice, books, or art:
For wit and humour differ quite;
That gives surprise, and this delight,
Humour is odd, grotesque, and wild.
Only by affectation spoil'd;
'Tis never by invention got,
Men have it when they know it not.
Our conversation to refine,
Humour and wit must both combine:
From both we learn to rally well,
Wherein sometimes the French excel;
Voiture in various lights displays
That irony which turns to praise :
His genius first found out the rule
For an obliging ridicule :
He flatters with peculiar air
The brave, the witty, and the fair:
And fools would fancy he intends
A satire where he most commends.
But as a poor pretending beau,
Because he fain would make a show,
Nor can arrive at silver lace,
Takes up with copper in the place;
So the pert dunces of mankind,
Whene'er they would be thought refined,
As if the difference lay abstruse
'Twixt raillery and gross abuse;
To show their parts will scold and rail,
Like porters o'er a pot of ale.
Such is that clan of boisterous bears,
Always together by the ears;
Shrewd fellows and arch wags, a tribe
That meet for nothing but a gibe;
Who first run one another down,
And then fall foul on all the town;
Skill'd in the horse-laugh and dry rub,
And call'd by excellence The Club.
I mean your Butler, Dawson, Car,
All special friends, and always jar.
The mettled and the vicious steed
Differ as little in their breed!
Nay, Voiture is as like Tom Leigh,
As rudeness is to repartee.
If what you said I wish unspoke,
"Twill not suffice it was a joke;
Reproach not, though in jest, a friend
For those defects he cannot mend;
His lineage, calling, shape, or sense,
If named with scorn, gives just offence.
What use in life to make men fret,
Part in worse humour than they met?
Thus all society is lost,
Men laugh at one another's cost;
And half the company is teazed
That came together to be pleased;
For all buffoons have most in view
To please themselves by vexing you
You wonder now to see me write
So gravely on a subject light;
Some part of what I here design
Regards a friend [Sheridan] of yours and mine;
Who neither void of sense nor wit,
Yet seldom judges what is fit,
But sallies oft beyond his bounds,
And takes unmeasurable rounds.
When jests are carried on too far,
And the loud laugh begins the war,
You keep your countenance for shame,
Yet still you think your friend to blame;
616
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF DEMAR, &c.
For though men cry they love a jest,
'Tis but when others stand the test;
And (would you have their meaning known)
They love a jest that is their own.
You must, although the point be nice,
Bestow your friend some good advice:
One hint from you will set him right,
And teach him how to be polite.
Bid him like you observe with care,
Whom to be hard on, whom to spare ;
Nor indistinctly to suppose
All subjects like Dan Jackson's nose.
To study the obliging jest,
By reading those who teach it best;
For prose I recommend Voiture's,
For verse (I speak my judgment) yours.
He'll find the secret out from thence,
To rhyme all day without offence;
And I no more shall then accuse
The flirts of his ill-manner'd Musc.
If he be guilty, you must mend him ;
If he be innocent, defend him.
AN ELEGY
ON THE DEATH OF DEMAR, THE USURER;
Who died the 6th of July, 1720.
SWIFT, with some of his usual party, happened to be in Mr.
Sheridan's, in Capel-street, when the news of Demar's death
was brought to them; and the elegy was the joint composition
of the company.
KNOW all men by these presents, Death, the tamer,
By mortgage has secured the corpse of Demar;
Nor can four hundred thousand sterling pound
Redeem him from his prison under ground.
His heirs might well. of all his wealth possess'd,
Bestow to bury him one iron chest.
Plutus, the god of wealth, will joy to know
His faithful steward in the shades below.
He walk'd the streets and wore a threadbare cloak;
He dined and supp'd at charge of other folk;
And by his looks, had he held out his palms,
He might be thought an object fit for alms.
So, to the poor if he refused his pelf,
He used them full as kindly as himself.
Where'er he went, he never saw his betters;
Lords, knights, and squires, were all his humble
debtors;
And under hand and seal, the Irish nation
Were forced to own to him their obligation.
He that could once have half the kingdom bought
In half a minute is not worth a groat.
His coffers from the coffin could not save,
Nor all his interest keep him from the grave.
A golden monument would not be right,
Because we wish the earth upon him light.
Oh London Tavern! thou hast lost a friend,
Though in thy walls he ne'er did farthing spend ;
He touch'd the pence when others touch'd the pot;
The hand that sign'd the mortgage paid the shot.
Old as he was, no vulgar known disease
On him could ever boast a power to seize;
"But as he weigh'd his gold, grim Death in spite
Cast in his dart, which made three moidores light,
And as he saw his darling money fail,
Blew his last breath to sink the lighter scale."
He who so long was current, 'twould be strange
If he should now be cried down since his change.
The sexton shall green sods on thee bestow;
Alas, the sexton is thy banker now!
A dismal banker must that banker be,
Who gives no bills but of mortality!
EPITAPH ON THE SAME.
BENEATH this verdant hillock lies
Demar, the wealthy and the wise:
His heirs, that he might safely rest,
Have put his carcase in a chest ;
The very chest in which, they say,
His other self, his money, lay.
And if his heirs continue kind
To that dear self he left behind,
I dare believe that four in five
Will think his better half alive.
TO MRS. HOUGHTON OF BOURMONT,
ON PRAISING HER HUSBAND TO DR. SWIFT.
You always are making a god of your spouse;
But this neither Reason nor Conscience allows;
Perhaps you will say 'tis in gratitude due,
And you adore him, because he adores you.
Your argument's weak, and so you will find;
For you by this rule must adore all mankind.
VERSES
WRITTEN ON A WINDOW, at THE DEANERY HOUSE,
ST. PATRICK'S.
ARE the guests of this house still doom'd to be
cheated?
[treated.
Sure the fates have decreed they by halves should be
In the days of good John, if you came here to dine,
You had choice of good meat, but no choice of good
wine.
In Jonathan's reign, if you come here to eat,
You have choice of good wine, but no choice of
good meat.
O Jove! then how fully might all sides be blest,
Would'st thou but agree to this humble request!
Put both deans in one; or if that's too much trouble,
Instead of the deans make the deanery double.
ON ANOTHER WINDOW ↳
A BARD, on whom Phoebus his spirit bestow'd,
Resolving t' acknowledge the bounty he owed,
Found out a new method at once of confessing,
And making the most of so mighty a blessing:
To the God he'd be grateful; but mortals he'd chouse,
By making his patron preside in his house :
And wisely foresaw this advantage from thence,
That the God would in honour bear most of th'
expense;
[treat
So the bard he finds drink, and leaves Phoebus to
With the thoughts he inspires, regardless of meat.
Hence they that come hither expecting to dine,
Are always fobb'd off with sheer wit and sheer wine.
APOLLO TO THE DEAN. 1720.
RIGHT trusty, and so forth-we let you to know
We are very ill used by you mortals below.
For, first, I have often by chemists been told,
Though I know nothing on't, it is I that make gold;
Which when you have got, you so carefully hide it,
That since I was born I hardly have spied it.
Then it must be allow'd that whenever I shine
I forward the grass and I ripen the vine;
To me the good fellows apply for relief,
Without whom they could get neither claret nor beef:
Yet their wine and their victuals those curmudgeon
lubbards
Lock up from my sight in cellars and cupboards.
That I have an ill eye they wickedly think,
And taint all their meat and sour all their drink.
But, thirdly and lastly, it must be allow'd,
I alone can inspire the poetical crowd :
This is gratefully own'd by each boy in the college,
Whom if I inspire, it is not to my knowledge.
Dr. Sterne, the predecessor of Swift in the deanery of St.
Patrick's, bishop of Clogher, distinguished for his hospitality.
↳ Written by Dr. Delany, in conjunction with Stella.
APOLLO TO THE DEAN-NEWS FROM PARNASSUS.
617
This every pretender to rhyme will admit,
Without troubling his head about judgment or wit.
These gentlemen use me with kindness and freedom,
And as for their works, when I please I may read 'em.
They lie open on purpose on counters and stalls,
And the titles I view when I shine on the walls.
But a comrade of yours, that traitor Delany,
Whom I for your sake love better than any,
And, of my mere motion and special good grace,
Intended in time to succeed in your place,—
On Tuesday the tenth seditiously came,
With a certain false trait'ress, one Stella by name,
To the deanery-house, and on the north glass,
Where for fear of the cold I never can pass,
Then and there, vi et armis, with a certain utensil,
Of value five shillings, in English a pencil,
Did maliciously, falsely, and traitorously write,
While Stella aforesaid stood by with a light.
My sister has lately deposed upon oath,
That she stopp'd in her course to look at them both;
That Stella was helping, abetting, and aiding;
And still as he writ, stood smiling and reading :
That her eyes were as bright as myself at noon-day,
But her graceful black locks were all mingled with
grey:
And by the description, I certainly know
'Tis the nymph that I courted some ten years ago;
Whom when I with the best of my talents endued
On her promise of yielding, she acted the prude:
That some verses were writ with felonious intent,
Direct to the north, where I never yet went:
That the letters appear'd reversed through the pane,
But in Stella's bright eyes they were placed right
again;
My
Wherein she distinctly could read every line,
And presently guess'd that the fancy was mine.
She can swear to the person, whom oft she has seen
At night between Cavan-street and College-green.
Now you see why his verses so seldom are shown,
The reason is plain,-they are none of his own;
And observe while you live that no man is shy
To discover the goods he came honestly by.
If I light on a thought he will certainly steal it,
And when he has got it find ways to conceal it.
Of all the fine things he keeps in the dark,
There's scarce one in ten but what has my mark;
And let them be seen by the world if he dare,
I'll make it appear that they're all stolen ware.
But as for the poem he writ on your sash,
I think I have now got him under my lash;
sister transcribed it last night to his sorrow,
And the public shall see't, if I live till to-morrow.
Through the zodiac around it shall quickly be spread
In all parts of the globe where your language is read.
He knows very well I ne'er gave a refusal
When he ask'd for my aid in the forms that are usual:
But the secret is this; I did lately intend
To write a few verses on you as my friend:
I studied a fortnight before I could find,
As I rode in my chariot, a thought to my mind,
And resolved the next winter (for that is my time,
When the days are at shortest) to get it in rhyme;
Till then it was lock'd in my box at Parnassus;
When that subtle companion, in hopes to surpass us,
Conveys out my paper of hints by a trick, [Nick,)
(For I think in my conscience he deals with old
And from my own stock provided with topics,
He gets to a window beyond both the tropics;
There out of my sight just against the north zone,
Writes down my conceits, and then calls them his own;
And you, like a booby, the bubble can swallow :
Now who but Delany can write like Apollo?
High treason by statute! yet here you object,
He only stole hints, but the verse is correct;
Though the thought be Apollo's, 'tis fine.y express'd;
So a thief steals my horse, and has him well dress'd.
Now whereas the sad criminal seems past repentance,
We Phœbus think fit to proceed to his sentence.
Since Delany has dared, like Prometheus his sire,
To climb to our region, and thence to steal fire;
We order a vulture in shape of the spleen
To prey on his liver but not to be seen.
And we order our subjects of every degree
To believe all his verses were written by me:
And under the pain of our highest displeasure
To call nothing his but the rhyme and the measure.
And, lastly, for Stella, just out of her prime,
I'm too much avenged already by time.
In return to her scorn I sent her diseases,
But will now be her friend whenever she pleases.
And the gifts I bestow'd her will find her a lover,
Though she lives till she's grey as a badger all over.
|
NEWS FROM PARNASSUS.
BY DR. DELANY.
1720.
Occasioned by "Apollo to the dean."
PARNASSus, February the twenty-seventh.
The poets assembled here on the eleventh,
Convened by Apollo, who gave them to know
He'd have a vicegerent in his empire below;
But declared that no bard should this honour inherit
Till the rest had agreed he surpass'd them in merit :
Now this, you'll allow, was a difficult case,
For each bard believed he'd a right to the place;
So, finding the assembly grow warm in debate,
He put them in mind of his Phaeton's fate.
'Twas urged to no purpose; disputes higher rose,
Scarce Phobus himself could their quarrels compose;
Till at length he determined that every bard
Should (each in his turn) be patiently heard.
First, one who believed he excell'd in translationa
Founds his claim on the doctrine of man's transmi-
gration :
"Since the soul of great Milton was given to me,
hope the convention will quickly agree.”—
Agree!" quoth Apollo: "from whence is this fool?
Is he just come from reading Pythagoras at school?
Begone, sir, you've got your subscriptions in time,
And given in return neither reason nor rhyme.'
To the next says the god, "Though now I won't
choose you,
[wit;
I'll tell you the reason for which I refuse you :
Love's goddess has oft to her parents complain'd
Of my favouring a bard who her empire disdain'd;
That at my instigation a poem you writ,
That to make you a laureat I gave the first voice,
Which to beauty and youth preferr'd judgment and
Inspiring the Britons t'approve of my choice.
Jove sent her to me, her power to try;
The goddess of beauty what god can deny?
She forbids your preferment; I grant her desire.
Appease the fair goddess: you then may rise higher."
The next that appear'd had good hopes of suc-
ceeding,
For he merited much for his wit and his breeding.
'Twas wise in the Britons no favour to show him,
He else might expect they should pay what they
owe him ;
And therefore they prudently chose to discard
The patriot, whose merits they would not reward :
The god, with a smile, bade his favourite advance,-
"You were sent by Astræa her envoy to France:
I refuse you, because you could stoop to be great."
You bend your ambition to rise in the state;
Then a bard who had been a successful translator,
"The convention allows me a versificator."
a Dr. Trapp.
Mr. Pope was here meant.
b Mr. Prior.
€18
APOLLO'S EDICT.
Says Apollo, "You mention the least of your merit;
By your works it appears you have much of my spirit.
I esteem you so well, that, to tell you the truth,
The greatest objection against you's your youth;
Then be not concern'd you are now laid aside ;
If you
live you
shall certainly one day preside."
Another, low bending, Apollo thus greets,
""Twas I taught your subjects to walk through the
streets.''a
"You taught them to walk! why, they knew it be-
fore;
But give me the bard that can teach them to soar.
Whenever he claims, 'tis his right, I'll confess,
Who lately attempted my style with success;
Who writes like Apollo has most of his spirit,
And therefore 'tis just I distinguish his merit :
Who makes it appear, by all he has writ,
His judgment alone can set bounds to his wit;
Like Virgil correct, with his own native ease,
But excels even Virgil in elegant praise :
Who admires the ancients, and knows 'tis their due,
Yet writes in a manner entirely new;
[plore,
Though none with more ease their depths can ex-
Yet whatever he wants he takes from my store;
Though I'm fond of his virtues, his pride I can see,
In scorning to borrow from any but me:
It is owing to this that like Cynthia, his lays
Enlighten the world by reflecting my rays."
This said, the whole audience soon found out his
drift:
The convention was summon'd in favour of SWIFT.
APOLLO'S EDICT.
OCCASIONED BY NEWS FROM PARNASSUS."
IRELAND is now our royal care,
We lately fix'd our viceroy there:
How near was she to be undone,
Till pious love inspired her son!
What cannot our vicegerent do,
As poet and as patriot too?
Let his success our subjects sway,
Our inspirations to obey,
And follow where he leads the way:
Then study to correct your taste;
Nor beaten paths be longer traced.
No simile shall be begun,
With rising or with setting sun;
And let the secret head of Nile
Be ever banish'd from your isle.
When wretched lovers live on air,
I beg you'll the cameleon spare ;
And when you'd make a hero grander,
Forget he's like a salamander.
No son of mine shall dare to say
Aurora usher'd in the day,
Or ever name the milky-way.
You all agree, I make no doubt,
Elijah's mantle is worn out.
The bird of Jove shall toil no more
To teach the humble wren to soar.
Your tragic heroes shall not rant,
Nor shepherds use poetic cant.
Simplicity alone can grace
The manners of the rural race.
Theocritus and Philips be
Your guides to true simplicity.
When Damon's soul shall take its flight,
Though poets have the second sight,
They shall not see a trail of light.
Nor shall the vapours upward rise,
Nor a new star adorn the skies
;
For who can hope to place one there
As glorious as Belinda's hair?
Mr. Gay; alluding to his "Trivia."
Yet if his name you'd eternise,
And must exalt him to the skies,
Without a star this may be done:
So Tickell mourned his Addison.
If Anna's happy reign you praise,
Pray, not a word of halcyon days;
Nor let my votaries show their skill
In aping lines from Cooper's Hill;
For know I cannot bear to hear
The mimicry of deep, yet clear.
Whene'er my viceroy is address'd,
Against the phoenix I protest.
When poets soar in youthful strains,
No Phaeton to hold the reins.
When you describe a lovely girl,
No lips of coral, teeth of pearl.
Cupid shall ne'er mistake another,
However beauteous, for his mother;
Nor shall his darts at random fly
From magazine in Celia's eye.
With women compounds I am cloy'd,
Which only pleas'd in Biddy Floyd.
For foreign aid what need they roam
Whom fate has amply blest at home?
Unerring Heaven with bounteous hand
Has form'd a model for your land,
Whom Jove endow'd with every grace;
The glory of the Granard race;
Now destined by the powers divine
The blessing of another line.
Then would you paint a matchless dame,
Whom you consign to endless fame?
Invoke not Cytherea's aid,
Nor borrow from the blue-eyed maid;
Nor need you on the Graces call;
Take qualities from Donegal.
THE DESCRIPTION OF AN IRISH FEAST.
Translated almost literally out of the original Irish. 1720.
O'ROURKE, a powerful chieftain at Ulster in the reign of queen
Elizabeth, was induced to make a visit to the court of that
sovereign; and in order to take leave of his neighbours with
becoming splendour. he assembled them in the great hall of
his castle, which was situated in the county of Leitrim.
O'ROURKE's noble fare
Will ne'er be forgot
By those who were there,
Or those who were not.
His revels to keep,
We sup and we dine
On seven score sheep,
Fat bullocks, and swine.
Usquebaugh to our feast
In pails was brought up,
A hundred at least,
And a madderª our cup.
O there is the sport!
We rise with the light
In disorderly sort,
From snoring all night.
O how was I trick'd!
My pipe it was broke,
My pocket was pick'd,
I lost my new cloak.
I'm rifled, quoth Nell,
Of mantle and kercher,b
Why then, fare them well,
The de'el take the searcher.
Come, harper, strike up;
But first, by your favour,
Boy, give us a cup:
Ah! this hath some savour.
a A wooden vessel.
A covering of linen, worn on the heads of the women
DESCRIPTION OF AN IRISH FEAST-PROGRESS OF BEAUTY.
619
O'Rourke's jolly boys
Ne'er dreamt of the matter,
Till, roused by the noise
And musical clatter,
They bounce from their nest,
No longer will tarry,
They rise ready dress'd,
Without one Ave-Mary.
They dance in a round,
Cutting capers and ramping;
A mercy the ground
Did not burst with their stamping.
The floor is all wet
With leaps and with jumps,
While the water and sweat
Splish-splash in their pumps.
Bless you late and early,
Laughlin O'Enagin a
By my hand, you dance rarely,
Margery Grinagin.c
Bring straw for our bed,
Shake it down to the feet,
Then over us spread
The winnowing sheet.
To show I don't flinch,
Fill the bowl up again;
Then give us a pinch
Of your sneezing, a Yean.d
Good lord! what a sight,
After all their good cheer,
For people to fight
In the midst of their beer!
They rise from their feast,
And hot are their brains,
A cubit at least
The length of their skeans.e
What stabs and what cuts,
What clattering of sticks;
What strokes on the guts,
What bastings and kicks!
With cudgels of oak,
Well harden'd in flame,
A hundred heads broke,
A hundred struck lame.
You churl, I'll maintain
My father built Lusk,
The castle of Slane,
And Carrick Drumrusk:
The earl of Kildare,
And Moynalta his brother,
As great as they are,
I was nurs'd by their mother.f
Ask that of old madam:
She'll tell you who's who,
As far up as Adam,
She knows it is true.
Come down with that beam,
If cudgels are scarce,
A blow on the weam,
Or a kick on the a-se.
THE PROGRESS OF BEAUTY. 1720.
WHEN first Diana leaves her bed,
Vapours and steams her look disgrace,
A frouzy dirty-colour'd red
Sits on her cloudy wrinkled face:
a The name of an Irishman.
The name of an Irishwoman.
d Surname of an Irishwoman.
b An Irish oath.
0
• Daggers or short swords.
It is the custom in Ireland to call nurses foster-mothers,
But by degrees, when mounted high,
Her artificial face appears
Down from her window in the sky,
Her spots are gone, her visage clears
'Twixt earthly females and the moon
All parallels exactly run :
If Celia should appear too soon,
Alas, the nymph would be undone!
To see her from her pillow rise,
All reeking in a cloudy steam,
Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes,
Poor Strephon! how would he blaspheme!
Three colours, black, and red, and white,
So graceful in their proper place,
Remove them to a different site,
They form a frightful hideous face :
For instance, when the lily skips
Into the precincts of the rose,
And takes possession of the lips,
Leaving the purple to the nose:
So Celia went entire to bed,
All her complexion safe and sound;
But, when she rose, white, black, and red,
Though still in sight, had changed their ground
The black, which would not be confined,
A more inferior station seeks,
Leaving the fiery red behind,
And mingles in her muddy cheeks.
But Celia can with ease reduce,
By help of pencil, paint, and brush,
Each colour to its place and use,
And teach her cheeks again to blush.
She knows her early self no more,
But fill'd with admiration stands ;
As other painters oft adore
The workmanship of their own hands.
Thus, after four important hours,
Celia's the wonder of her sex;
Say, which among the heavenly powers
Could cause such marvellous effects?
Venus, indulgent to her kind,
Gave women all their hearts could wish,
When first she taught them where to find
White lead and Lusitanian [Portugal] dish.
Love with white lead cements his wings;
White lead was sent us to repair
Two brightest, brittlest, earthly things,
A lady's face, and China-ware.
She ventures now to lift the sash;
The window is her proper sphere;
Ah, lovely nymph! be not too rash,
Nor let the beaux approach too near.
Take pattern by your sister star;
Delude at once and bless our sight;
When you are seen, be seen from far,
And chiefly choose to shine by night.
But art no longer can prevail,
When the materials all are gone ;
The best mechanic hand must fail,
Where nothing's left to work upon.
Matter, as wise logicians say,
Cannot without a form subsist;
And form, say I, as well as they,
Must fail, if matter brings no grist.
their husbands foster-fathers, and their children foster-brothers
or foster sisters; and thus the poorest claim kindred to the
richest.
620
PROGRESS OF POETRY-SOUTH-SEA PROJECT.
And this is fair Diana's case;
For all astrologers maintain,
Each night a bit drops off her face,
When mortals say she's in her wane:
While Partridgea wisely shows the cause
Efficient of the moon's decay,
That Cancer with his poisonous claws
Attacks her in the milky way :
But Gadbury,a in art profound,
From her pale cheeks pretends to show,
That swain Endymion is not sound,
Or else that Mercury's her foe.
But let the cause be what it will,
b
In half a month she looks so thin,
That Flamsteed can, with all his skill,
See but her forehead and her chin.
Yet, as she wastes, she grows discreet,
Till midnight never shows her head
So rotting Celia strolls the street
When sober folks are all a-bed:
For sure, if this be Luna's fate,
Poor Celia, but of mortal race,
In vain expects a longer date
To the materials of her face.
When Mercury her tresses mows,
;
To think of black-lead combs is vain:
No painting can restore a nose,
Nor will her teeth return again.
Ye powers who over love preside!
Since mortal beauties drop so soon,
If ye would have us well supplied,
8
Send us new nymphs with each new moon!
THE PROGRESS OF POETRY.
THE farmer's goose, who in the stubble
Has fed without restraint or trouble,
Grown fat with corn and sitting still,
Can scarce get o'er the barn-door sill;
And hardly waddles forth to cool
Her belly in the neighbouring pool!
Nor loudly cackles at the door;
For cackling shows the goose is poor.
But, when she must be turn'd to graze,
And round the barren common strays,
Hard exercise and harder fare
Soon make my dame grow lank and spare;
Her body light, she tries her wings,
And scorns the ground and upwards springs;
While all the parish, as she flies,
Hear sounds harmonious from the skies.
Such is the poet fresh in pay,
The third night's profits of his play;
His morning draughts till noon can swill,
Among his brethren of the quill:
With good roast beef his belly full,
Grown lazy, foggy, fat, and dull,
Deep sunk in plenty and delight,
What poet e'er could take his flight
Or, stuff'd with phlegm up to the throat,
What poet e'er could sing a note?
Nor Pegasus could bear the load
Along the high celestial road;
The steed, oppress'd, would break his girth
To raise the lumber from the earth.
But view him in another scene,
When all his drink is Hippocrene,
His money spent, his patrons fail,
His credit out for cheese and ale;
His two-years' coat so smooth and bare,
Through every thread it lets in air;
Partridge and Gadbury wrote each an ephemeris.
b Jolm Flamsteed, the celebrated astronômer-royal, died in
1719, aged 73.
With hungry meals his body pined,
His guts and belly full of wind
And, like a jockey for a race,
His flesh brought down to flying case.
Now his exalted spirit loathes
Encumbrances of food and clothes;
And up he rises like a vapour,
Supported high on wings of paper.
He singing flies, and flying sings,
While from below all Grub-street rings.
THE SOUTH-SEA PROJECT. 1721.
Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto,
Arma virum, tabulæque, et Troïa gaza per undas.—VIKO.
WHEN the deluded people of England awoke from their golden
dream of South-Sea wealth, their wrath rose to the brim against
the directors by whom that ruinous project had been conducted,
YE wise philosophers, explain
What magic makes our money rise,
When dropp'd into the Southern main;
Or do these jugglers cheat our eyes?
Put in your money fairly told;
Presto! be gone-Tis here again :
Ladies and gentlemen, behold,
Here's every piece as big as ten.
Thus in a basin drop a shilling,
Then fill the vessel to the brim,
You shall observe, as you are filling,
The pond'rous metal seems to swim:
It rises both in bulk and height,
Behold it swelling like a sop;
The liquid medium cheats your sight:
Behold it mounted to the top!
In stock three hundred thousand pounds,
I have in view a lord's estate ;
My manors all contiguous round!
A coach-and-six, and served in plate!
Thus the deluded bankrupt raves,
Puts all upon a desperate bet;
Then plunges in the southern waves,
Dipp'd over head and ears-in debt.
So, by a calenture misled,
The mariner with rapture sees,
On the smooth ocean's azure bed,
Enamell'd fields and verdant trees:
With eager haste he longs to rove
In that fantastic scene, and thinks
It must be some enchanted grove :
And in he leaps, and down he sinks.
Five hundred chariots just bespoke
Are sunk in these devouring waves,
The horses drown'd, the harness broke,
And here the owners find their graves.
Like Pharaoh, by directors led,
They with their spoils went safe before;
His chariots, tumbling out the dead,
Lay shatter'd on the Red-Sea shore.
Raised up on Hope's aspiring plumes,
The young adventurer o'er the deep
An eagle's flight and state assumes,
And scorns the middle way to keep.
On paper wings he takes his flight,
With wax the father bound them fast
The wax is melted by the height,
And down the towering boy is cast.
A moralist might here explain
The rashness of the Cretan youth;
Describe his fall into the main,
And from a fable form a truth.
;
THE SOUTH-SEA PROJECT
621
His wings are his paternal rent,
He melts the wax at every flame;
His credit sunk, his money spent,
In Southern seas he leaves his name.
Inform us, you that best can tell,
Why in that dangerous guif profound,
Where hundreds and where thousands fell,
Fools chiefly float, the wise are drown'd?
So have I seen from Severn's brink
A flock of geese jump down together;
Swim where the bird of Jove would sink,
And, swimming, never wet a feather.
But, I affirm, 'tis false in fact,
Directors better knew their tools;
We see the nation's credit crack'd,
Each knave has made a thousand fools.
One fool may from another win,
And then get off with money stored;
But if a sharper once comes in,
He throws at all, and sweeps the board.
As fishes on each other prey,
The great ones swallowing up the small,
So fares it in the Southern Sea ;
The whale directors eat up all.
When stock is high they come between,
Making by secondhand their offers;
Then cunningly retire unseen,
With each a million in his coffers.
So, when upon a moonshine night,
An ass was drinking at a stream,
A cloud arose and stopp'd the light
By intercepting every beam :
The day of judgment will be soon,
Cries out a sage among the crowd;
An ass has swallow'd up the moon!
The moon lay safe behind the cloud.
Each poor subscriber to the sea
Sinks down at once, and there he lies;
Directors fall as well as they,
Their fall is but a trick to rise.
So fishes, rising from the main,
Can soar with moisten'd wings on high;
The moisture dried, they sink again,
And dip their fins again to fly.
Undone at play, the female troops
Come here their losses to retrieve ;
Ride o'er the waves in spacious hoops,
Like Lapland witches in a sieve.
Thus Venus to the sea descends,
As poets feign; but where's the moral?
It shows the queen of love intends
To search the deep for pearl and coral.
The sea is richer than the land,
I heard it from my grannam's mouth,
Which now I clearly understand;
For by the sea she meant the South.
Thus, by directors we are told,
Pray, gentlemen, believe your eyes;
Our ocean's cover'd o'er with gold,
Look round, and see how thick it lies:
"We, gentlemen, are your assisters,
We'll come, and hold you by the chin.".
Alas! all is not gold that glisters,
Ten thousand sink by leaping in.
O! would those patriots be so kind
Here in the deep to wash their hands,
Then, like Pactolus, we should find
The sea indeed had golden sands.
A shilling in the bath you fling,
The silver takes a nobler hue
By magic virtue in the spring,
And seems a guinea to your view.
But, as a guinea will not pass
At market for a farthing more
Shown through a multiplying-glass,
Than what it always did before,—
So cast it in the Southern seas,
Or view it through a jobber's bill;
Put on what spectacles you please,
Your guinea's but a guinea still.
One night a fool into a brook
Thus from a hillock looking down,
The golden stars for guineas took,
And silver Cynthia for a crown.
The point he could no longer doubt;
He ran, he leap'd into the flood;
There sprawl'd a while, and scarce got out,
All cover'd o'er with slime and mud.
"Upon the water cast thy bread,
And after many days thou'lt find it ;"
But gold, upon this ocean spread,
Shall sink and leave no mark behind it.
There is a gulf where thousands fell,
Here all the bold adventurers came;
A narrow sound, though deep as hell-
'Change-alley is the dreadful name.
Nine times a-day it ebbs and flows,
Yet he that on the surface lies
Without a pilot, seldom knows
The time it falls or when 'twill rise.
Subscribers here by thousands float,
And jostle one another down;
Each paddling in his leaky boat,
And here they fish for gold, and drown.
"aNow buried in the depth below,
Now mounted up to heaven again,
They reel and stagger to and fro,
At their wits' end, like drunken men.”
Meantime, secure on Garrawayb cliffs,
A savage race, by shipwrecks fed,
Lie waiting for the founder'd skiffs,
And strip the bodies of the dead.
But these, you say, are factious lies,
From some malicious Tory's brain;
For where directors get a prize,
The Swiss and Dutch whole millions drain.
Thus, when by rooks a lord is plied,
Some cully often wins a bet
By venturing on the cheating side,
Though not into the secret let.
While some build castles in the air,
Directors build them in the seas;
Subscribers plainly see them there,
For fools will see as wise men please.
Thus oft by mariners are shown
(Unless the men of Kent are liars)
Earl Godwin's castles overflown,
And palace roofs and steeple spires.
Mark where the sly directors creep,
Nor to the shore approach too nigh!
The monsters nestle in the deep
To seize you in your passing by.
Then, like the dogs of Nile, be wise,
Who, taught by instinct how to shun
The crocodile, that lurking lies,
Run as they drink, and drink and run.
b A coffeehouse in 'Change alley.
a Psalm cvii.
622
PROLOGUE-EPILOGUE, &c.
Antæus could, by magic charms,
Recover strength whene'er he fell;
Alcides held him in his arms,
And sent him up in air to hell.
Directors, thrown into the sea,
Recover strength and vigour there;
But may be tamed another way,
Suspended for a while in air.
Directors!-for 'tis you I warn,—
By long experience we have found
What planet ruled when you were born;
We see you never can be drown'd.
Beware, nor over bulky grow,
Nor come within your cully's reach;
For, if the sea should sink so low
To leave you dry upon the beach,
You'll owe your ruin to your bulk:
Your foes already waiting stand,
To tear you like a founder'd hulk,
While you lie helpless on the sand.
Thus, when a whale has lost the tide,
The coasters crowd to seize the spoil;
The monster into parts divide,
And strip the bones, and melt the oil.
Oh! may some western tempest sweep
These locusts whom our fruits have fed,
That plague, directors, to the deep,
Driven from the South Sea to the Red!
May He, whom Nature's laws obey,
Who lifts the poor and sinks the proud,
“Quiet the raging of the sea,
And still the madness of the crowd !”
But never shall our isle have rest
Till those devouring swine run down,
(The devils leaving the possess'd)
And headlong in the waters drown.
The nation then too late will find,
Computing all their cost and trouble,
Directors' promises but wind,
South Sea, at best, a mighty bubble.
THE DOG AND THE SHADOW.
ORE cibum portans catulus dum spectat in undis,
Apparet liquido prædæ melioris imago :
Dum speciosa diu damna admiratur, et altè
Ad latices inhiat, cadit imo vortice præceps
Ore cibus, nec non simulacrum corripit una.
Occupat ille avidus deceptis faucibus umbram;
Illudit species, ac dentibus aëra mordet.
EPIGRAM.
GREAT folks are of a finer mould;
Lord! how politely they can scold!
While a coarse English tongue will itch
For whore and rogue, and dog and bitch.
PROLOGUE
TO A PLAY FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE DISTRESSED
WEAVERS.
BY DR. SHERIDAN.
Spoken by Mr. Elrington. 1721.
;
GREAT cry and little wool-is now become
The plague and proverb of the weaver's loom
No wool to work on, neither weft nor warp;
Their pockets empty, and their stomachs sharp.
Provoked, in loud complaints to you they cry;
Ladies, relieve the weavers, or they die!
Forsake your silks for stuffs, nor think it strange
To shift your clothes, since you delight in change.
One thing with freedom I'll presume to tell-
The men will like you every bit as well.
See, I am dress'd from top to toe in stuff,
And, by my troth, I think I'm fine enough;
My wife admires me more, and swears she never,
In any dress, beheld me look so clever.
And if a man be better in such ware,
What great advantage must it give the fair!
Our wool from lambs of innocence proceeds;
Silks come from maggots, calicoes from weeds;
Hence 'tis by sad experience that we find
Ladies in silks to vapours much inclined-
And what are they but maggots in the mind?
For which I think it reason to conclude
That clothes may change our temper like our food.
Chintzes are gawdy, and engage our eyes
Too much about the party-colour'd dyes;
Although the lustre is from you begun,
We see the rainbow, and neglect the sun.
How sweet and innocent's the country maid,
With small expense in native wool array'd;
Who copies from the fields her homely green,
While by her shepherd with delight she's seen!
Should our fair ladies dress like her, in wool,
How much more lovely and how beautiful,
Without their Indian drapery, they'd prove!
While wool would help to warm us into love!
Then, like the famous Argonauts of Greece,
We'll all contend to gain the Golden Fleece!
EPILOGUE
TO A BENEFIT-PLAY, GIVEN IN BEHALF OF THE
DISTRESSED WEAVERS.
BY THE DEAN.
Spoken by Mr. Griffith.
WHO dares affirm this is no pious age,
When charity begins to tread the stage;
When actors, who at best are hardly savers,
Will give a night of benefit to weavers?
Stay-let me see, how finely will it sound!
Imprimis, From his grace a hundred pound.
Peers, clergy, gentry, all are benefactors;
And then comes in the item of the actors.
Item, The actors freely give a day-
The poet had no more who made the play.
But whence this wondrous charity in players?
They learn it not at sermons or at prayers:
Under the rose, since here are none but friends
(To own the truth), we have some private ends.
Since waiting-women, like exacting jades,
Hold up the prices of their old brocades,
We'll dress in manufactures made at home;
Equip our kings and generals at the Comb.b
We'll ring for Meath-street Egypt's haughty queen,
And Antony shall court her in ratteen.
In blue shalloon shall Hannibal be clad,
And Scipio trail an Irish purple plaid.
In drugget dress'd, of thirteen pence a-yard,
See Philip's son amid his Persian guard;
And proud Roxana, fired with jealous rage,
With fifty yards of crape shall sweep the stage.
In short, our kings and princesses within
Are all resolved this project to begin ;
And you, our subjects, when you here resort,
Must imitate the fashion of the court.
O! could I see this audience clad in stuff,
Though money's scarce, we should have trade enough:
But chintz, brocades, and lace, take all away,
And scarce a crown is left to see the play.
Perhaps you wonder whence this friendship springs
Between the weavers and us playhouse kings;
But wit and weaving had the same beginning;
Pallas first taught us poetry and spinning:
a Archbishop King.
A street famous for woollen manufactures.
ANSWER TO PROLOGUE, &c.-THE COUNTRY LIFE.
623
And next, observe how this alliance fits,
For weavers now are just as poor as wits:
Their brother quillmen, workers for the stage,
For sorry stuff can get a crown a-page;
But weavers will be kinder to the players,
And sell for twentypence a yard of theirs.
And, to your knowledge, there is often less in
The poet's wit than in the player's dressing.
ANSWER TO
DR. SHERIDAN'S PROLOGUE, AND TO
DR. SWIFT'S EPILOGUE,
IN BEHALF OF THE DISTRESSED WEAVERS.
BY DR. DELANY.
Fœmineo generi tribuantur.
THE Muses, whom the richest silks array,
Refuse to fling their shining gowns away;
The pencil clothes the nine in bright brocades,
And gives each colour to the pictured maids;
Far above mortal dress the sisters shine,
Pride in their Indian robes, and must be fine.
And shall two bards in concert rhyme, and huff
And fret these Muses with their playhouse stuff?
The player in mimic piety may storm,
Deplore the Comb, and bid her heroes arm :
The arbitrary mob, in paltry rage,
May curse the belles and chintzes of the age:
Yet still the artist worm her silk shall share,
And spin her thread of life in service of the fair.
The cotton-plant, whom satire cannot blast,
Shall bloom the favourite of these realms, and last;
Like yours, ye fair, her fame from censure grows,
Prevails in charms, and glares above her foes:
Your injured plant shall meet a loud defence,
And be the emblem of your innocence.
Some bard, perhaps, whose landlord was a weaver,
Penn'd the low prologue to return a favour:
Some neighbour wit, that would be in the vogue,
Work'd with his friend, and wove the epilogue.
Who weaves the chaplet, or provides the bays,
For such wool-gathering sonnetteers as these?
Hence, then, ye homespun witlings, that persuade
Miss Chloe to the fashion of her maid,
Shall the wide hoop, that standard of the town,
Thus act subservient to a poplin gown?
Who'd smell of wool all over? 'Tis enough
The under-petticoat be made of stuff.
Lord! to be wrapp'd in flannel just in May,
When the fields dress'd in flowers appear so gay
And shall not miss be flower'd as well as they?
In what weak colours would the plaid appear,
Work'd to a quilt, or studded in a chair!
The skin, that vies with silk, would fret with stuff;
Or who could bear in bed a thing so rough?
Ye knowing fair, how eminent that bed,
Where the chintz diamonds with the silken thread,
Where rustling curtains call the curious eye,
And boast the streaks and paintings of the sky!
Of flocks they'd have your milky ticking full;
And all this for the benefit of wool!
[weavers,
"But where,” say they, "shall we bestow these
That spread our streets, and are such piteous cravers?"
The silkworms (brittle beings!) prone to fate,
Demand their care, to make their webs complete:
These may they tend, their promises receive;
We cannot pay too much for what they give!
ON GAULSTOWN HOUSE,
THE SEAT OF GEORGE ROCHFORT, ESQ.,
Father of the earl of Belvidere.
BY DR. DELANY.
'Tis so old and so ugly, and yet so convenient,
You're sometimes in pleasure, though often in pain
in't;
'Tis so large you may lodge a few friends with ease in't,
You may turn and stretch at your length if you please
in't;
'Tis so little, the family live in a press in't,
And poor lady Betty a has scarce room to dress in't;
'Tis so cold in the winter, you can't bear to lie in't,
And so hot in the summer, you're ready to fry in't
;
'Tis so brittle, 'twould scarce bear the weight of a tun,
Yet so stanch, that it keeps out a great deal of sun;
"Tis so crazy, the weather with ease beats quite
through it,
And you're forced every year in some part to renew it;
'Tis so ugly, so useful, so big, and so little,
'Tis so stanch and so crazy, so strong and so brittle,
"Tis at one time so hot, and another so cold,
It is part of the new, and part of the old
It is just half a blessing, and just half a curse—
I wish then, dear George, it were better or worse.
THE COUNTRY LIFE,
;
AND PART OF A SUMMER SPENT AT GAULSTOWN HOUSE.
THALIA, tell in sober lays,
b
How George, Nim, Dan", dean,e pass their days;
And, should our Gaulstown's art grow fallow,
Yet Neget quis carmina Gallo?
Here (by the way) by Gallus mean I
Not Sheridan, but friend Delany.
Begin, my Muse!
First from our bowers
We sally forth at different hours;
At seven the dean, in night-gown drest,
Goes round the house to wake the rest
At nine, grave Nim and George facetious,
Go to the dean, to read Lucretius ;
At ten my lady comes and hectors
And kisses George, and ends our lectures;
And when she has him by the neck fast,
Hauls him, and scolds us, down to breakfast.
We squander there an hour or more,
And then all hands, boys, to the oar;
All, heteroclite Dan except,
Who neither time nor order kept,
But, by peculiar whimseys drawn,
Peeps in the ponds to look for spawn:
O'ersees the work, or Dragon f rows,
Or mars a text, or mends his hose
Or-but proceed we in our journal-
At two, or after, we return all:
From the four elements assembling,
Warn'd by the bell, all folks come trembling ;8
From airy garrets some descend,
Some from the lake's remotest end;
h
My lord and dean the fire forsake,
Dan leaves the earthy spade and rake:
The loiterers quake, no corner hides them,
And lady Betty soundly chides them.
Now water's brought and dinner's done ;
With "church and king" the ladies gone :
Not reckoning half an hour we pass
In talking o'er a moderate glass.
Dan, growing drowsy, like a thief
Steals off to doze away his beef;
And this must pass for reading Hamond-
While George and dean go to backgammon.
^ Daughter of the earl of Drogheda, and married to George
Rochfort, esq.
b Mr. Rochfort.
• His brother, Mr. John Rochfort, who was called Nimrod.
d Rev. Daniel Jackson.
e Dr. Swift.
f A small boat so called.
8 The dean has been censured on an idle supposition of this
passage being an allusion to the day of judgment.
h Mr. Rochfort's father was lord chief-baron of the exchequer
in Ireland.
624
THE COUNTRY LIFE-A SATIRICAL ELEGY, &c.
George, Nim, and dean, set out at four,
And then again boys to the oar.
But when the sun goes to the deep,
(Not to disturb him in his sleep,
Or make a rumbling o'er his head,
His candle out and he a-bed,)
We watch his motions to a minute,
And leave the flood when he goes in it.
Now stinted in the shortening day,
We go to prayers and then to play,
Till supper comes; and after that
We sit an hour to drink and chat.
'Tis late-the old and younger pairs,
By Adam [the butler] lighted, walk up stairs.
The weary dean goes to his chamber;
And Nim and Dan to garret clamber.
So when the circle we have run,
The curtain falls and all is done.
I might have mention'd several facts,
Like episodes between the acts;
And tell who loses and who wins,
Who gets a cold, who breaks his shins;
How Dan caught nothing in his net,
And how the boat was overset,
For brevity I have retrench'd
How in the lake the dean was drench'd:
It would be an exploit to brag on,
How valiant George rode o'er the dragon;
How steady in the storm he sat,
And saved his oar, but lost his hat:
How Nim (no hunter e'er could match him)
Still brings us hares when he can catch 'em;
How skilfully Dan mends his nets;
How fortune fails him when he sets;
Or how the dean delights to vex
The ladies, and lampoon their sex :
I might have told how oft dean Perceval
Displays his pedantry unmerciful,
How haughtily he cocks his nose,
To tell what every schoolboy knows;
And with his finger and his thumb,
Explaining, strikes opposers dumb :
But now there needs no more be said on't,
Nor how his wife, that female pedant,
Shows all her secrets of housekeeping;
For candles how she trucks her dripping;
Was forced to send three miles for yeast,
To brew her ale and raise her paste;
Tells everything that you can think of,—
How she cured Charley of the chincough;
What gave her brats and pigs the measles,
And how her doves were kill'd by weasels;
How jowler howl'd, and what a fright
She had with dreams the other night.
But now, since I have gone so far on,
A word or two of lord-chief baron;
And tell how little weight he sets
On all Whig papers and gazettes ;
But for the politics of Pue,
Thinks every syllable is true:
And since he owns the king of Sweden.
Is dead at last, without evading,
Now all his hopes are in the czar ;
"Why, Muscovy is not so far;
Down the Black Sea, and up the Straits,
And in a month he's at your gates;
Perhaps, from what the packet brings,
By Christmas we shall see strange things."
Why should I tell of ponds and drains,
What carps we met with for our pains;
Of sparrows tamed, and nuts innumerable
To choke the girls, and to consume a rabble ?
But you, who are a scholar, know
How transient all things are below,
How prone to change is human life!
Last night arrived Clem and his wife-
This grand event has broke our measures;
Their reign began with cruel siezures;
The dean must with his quilt supply
The bed in which those tyrants lie ;
Nim lost his wig-block, Dan his jordan,
(My lady says, she can't afford one,)
George is half scared out of his wits,
For Clem gets all the dainty bits.
Henceforth expect a different survey,
This house will soon turn topsyturvy;
They talk of further alterations,
Which causes many speculations.
A SATIRICAL ELEGY
ON THE DEATH OF A LATE FAMOUS GENERAL. 1722.
[The duke of Marlborough.]
His Grace! impossible! what, dead!
Of old age too, and in his bed!
And could that mighty warrior fall,
And so inglorious, after all?
Well, since he's gone, no matter how,
The last loud trump must wake him now;
And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger,
He'd wish to sleep a little longer.
And could he be indeed so old
As by the newspapers we're told?
Threescore, I think, is pretty high ;
'Twas time in conscience he should die!
This world he cumber'd long enough;
He burnt his candle to the snuff';
And that's the reason, some folks think,
He left behind so great a stink.
Behold his funeral appears,
Nor widow's sighs, nor orphan's tears,
Wont at such times each heart to pierce,
Attend the progress of his hearse.
But what of that? his friends may say
He had those honours in his day.
True to his profit and his pride,
He made them weep before he died.
Come hither, all ye empty things!
Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings!
Who float upon the tide of state;
Come hither, and behold your fate!
Let Pride be taught by this rebuke,
How very mean a thing's a duke;
From all his ill-got honours flung,
Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung.
DR. DELANY'S VILLA.
WOULD you that Delville I describe
Believe me, sir, I will not gibe :
For who would be satirical
Upon a thing so very small?
You scarce upon the borders enter
Before you're at the very centre.
A single crow can make it night,
When o'er your farm she takes her flight:
Yet in this narrow compass we
Observe a vast variety;
Both walks, walls, meadows, and parterres,
Windows and doors, and rooms and stairs,
And hills and dales, and woods and fields,
And hay, and grass, and corn, it yields;
All to your haggard brought so cheap in,
Without the mowing or the reaping :
A razor, though to say't I'm loth,
Would shave you and your meadows both.
Though small's the farm, yet here's a house
Full large to entertain a mouse;
CARBERY ROCKS, &c.
625
But where a rat is dreaded more
Than savage Caledonian boar;
For, if it's entered by a rat,
There is no room to bring a cat.
A little rivulet seems to steal
Down through a thing you call a vale,
Like tears adown a wrinkled cheek,
Like rain along a blade of leek:
And this you call your sweet meander,
Which might be suck'd up by a gander,
Could he but force his nether bill
To scoop the channel of the rill.
For sure you'd make a mighty clutter,
Were it as big as city gutter.
Next come I to your kitchen garden,
Gramina dum carpunt pendentes rupe capellæ,
Vi salientis aquæ de summo præcipitantur,
Et dulces animas imo sub gurgite linquunt.
Piscator terrâ non audet vellere funem ;
Sed latet in portu tremebundus, et aëra sudum
Haud sperans, Nereum precibus votisque fatigat.
CARBERY ROCKS.
TRANSLATED BY DR. DUNKIN.
Lo! from the top of yonder cliff, that shrouds
Its airy head amid the azure clouds,
Hangs a huge fragment; destitute of props,
Prone on the wave the rocky ruin drops;
With hoarse rebuff the swelling seas rebound,
From shore to shore the rocks return the sound
Where one poor mouse would fare but hard in; The dreadful murmurs heaven's high convex cleaves,
And round this garden is a walk
No longer than a tailor's chalk ;
Thus I compare what space is in it,
A snail creeps round it in a minute.
One lettuce makes a shift to squeeze
Up through a tuft you call your trees:
And once a year a single rose
Peeps from the bud, but never blows;
In vain then you expect its bloom!
It cannot blow for want of room.
In short, in all your boasted seat,
There's nothing but yourself that's GREAT.
ON ONE OF THE WINDOWS
AT DELVILLE.
A BARD, grown desirous of saving his pelf,
Built a house he was sure would hold none but
himself.
This enraged god Apollo, who Mercury sent,
And bid him go ask what his votary meant?
"Some foe to my empire has been his adviser :
'Tis of dreadful portent when a poet turns miser!
Tell him, Hermes, from me tell that subject of mine
I have sworn by the Styx to defeat his design;
For wherever he lives the Muses shall reign;
And the Muses, he knows, have a numerous train."
CARBERIÆ RUPES.
IN COMITATU CORGAGENSI.
Scripsit Jun. Ann. Dom. 1723.
ECCE ingens fragmen scopuli, quod vertice summo
Desuper impendet, nullo fundamine nixum
Decidit in fluctus: maria undique et undique saxa
Horrisono stridore tonant, et ad æthera murmur
Erigitur; trepidatque suis Neptunus in undis.
Nam, longâ venti rabie, atque aspergine crebrâ
Equorei laticis, specus imâ rupe cavatur:
Jam fultura ruit, jam summa cacumina nutant ;
Jam cadit in præceps moles, et verberat undas.
Attonitus credas, hinc dejecisse Tonantem
Montibus impositos montes, et Pelion altum
In capita anguipedum cœlo jaculâsse gigantum.
Sæpe etiam spelunca immani aperitur hiatu
Exesa è scopulis, et utrinque foramina pandit,
Hinc atque hinc a ponto ad pontum pervia Phœbo.
Cautibus enormè junctis laquearia tecti
Formantur; moles olim ruitura supernè.
Fornice sublimi nidos posuere palumbes,
Inque imo stagni posuere cubilia phocæ.
Sed, cum sævit hyems, et venti, carcere rupto,
Immensos volvunt fluctus ad culmina montis;
Non obsessæ arces, non fulmina vindice dextrâ
Missa Jovis, quoties inimicas sævit in urbes,
Exæquant sonitum undarum, veniente procellâ :
Littora littoribus reboant; vicinia latè,
Gens assueta mari, et pedibus percurrere rupes,
Terretur tamen, et longè fugit, arva relinquens.
VOL. I.
And Neptune shrinks beneath his subject waves:
For long the whirling winds and beating tides
Had scoop'd a vault into its nether sides.
Now yields the base, the summits nod, now urge
Their headlong course, and lash the sounding surge.
Not louder noise could shake the guilty world
When Jove heap'd mountains upon mountains
Retorting Pelion from his dread abode, [hurl'd;
To crush Earth's rebel sons beneath the load.
Oft too with hideous yawn the cavern wide
Presents an orifice on either side-
A dismal orifice, from sea to sea
Extended, pervious to the god of day;
Uncouthly join'd, the rocks stupendous form
An arch, the ruin of a future storm:
High on the cliff their nests the woodquests make,
And sea-calves stable in the oozy lake.
But when bleak Winter with his sullen train
Awakes the winds to vex the watery plain;
When o'er the craggy steep without control,
Big with the blast, the raging billows roll;
Not towns beleaguer'd, not the flaming brand,
Darted from heaven by Jove's avenging hand,
Oft as on impious men his wrath he pours,
Humbles their pride and blasts their gilded towers,
Equal the tumult of this wild uproar :
Waves rush o'er waves, rebellows shore to shore.
The neighbouring race, though wont to brave the
Of angry seas, and run along the rocks, [shocks
Now pale with terror while the ocean foams
Fly far and wide, nor trust their native homes.
The goats, while, pendent from the mountain-top,
The wither'd herb improvident they crop,
Wash'd down the precipice with sudden sweep,
Leave their sweet lives beneath th' unfathom'd deep.
The frighted fisher with desponding eyes,
Though safe, yet trembling in the harbour lies,
Nor hoping to behold the skies serene,
Wearies with vows the monarch of the main.
COPY OF THE BIRTHDAY VERSES
ON MR. FORD.ª
COME, be content, since out it must,
For Stella has betray'd her trust;
And, whispering, charged me not to say
That Mr. Ford was born to-day;
Or if at last I needs must blab it
According to my usual habit,
She bid me, with a serious face,
Be sure conceal the time and place;
And not my compliment to spoil,
By calling this your native soil;
Or vex the ladies, when they knew
That you are turning forty-two:
But if these topics shall appear
Strong arguments to keep you here,
Dr. Swift had been used to celebrate the birthday of his
friend Charles Ford, esq., which was on the 1st of January.
ខ ន
626
BIRTHDAY VERSES ON MR. FORD-ON DREAMS.
I think, though you judge hardly of it,
Good manners must give place to profit.
The nymphs, with whom you first began,
Are each become a harridan;
And Montague so far decay'd,
Her lovers now must all be paid;
And every belle that since arose,
Has her contemporary beaux.
Your former comrades, once so bright,
With whom you toasted half the night,
Of rheumatism and pox complain,
And bid adieu to dear champagne.
Your great protectors, once in power,
Are now in exile or the Tower.
Your foes triumphant o'er the laws,
Who hate your person and your cause,
If once they get you on the spot,
You must be guilty of the plot;
For true or false they'll ne'er inquire,
But use you ten times worse than Prior.
In London! what would you do there?
Can you, my friend, with patience bear
(Nay, would it not your passion raise
Worse than a pun or Irish phrase)
To see a scoundrel strut and hector,
A footboy to some rogue director,
To look on vice triumphant round,
And virtue trampled on the ground?
Observe where bloody ***** stands
With torturing engines in his hands;
Hear him blaspheme, and swear, and rail,
Threatening the pillory and jail :
If this you think a pleasing scene,
To London straight return again;
Where, you have told us from experience,
Are swarms of bugs and presbyterians.
I thought my very spleen would burst
When fortune hither drove me first;
Was full as hard to please as you,
Nor persons' names nor places knew:
But now I act as other folk,
Like prisoners when their gaol is broke.
If you have London still at heart,
We'll make a small one here by art;
The difference is not much between
St. James's-park and Stephen's-green;
And Dawson-street will serve as well
To lead you thither as Pall-mall.
Nor want a passage through the palace,
To choke your sight and raise your malice.
The deanery-house may well be match'd,
Under correction, with the Thatch'd.ª
Nor shall I, when you hither come,
Demand a crown a-quart for stum.
Then for a middle-aged charmer,
Stella may vie with your Monthermer ;b
She's now as handsome every bit,
And has a thousand times her wit.
The dean and Sheridan, I hope,
Will half supply a Gay and Pope.
с
Corbet, though yet I know his worth not,
No doubt will prove a good Arbuthnot.
I throw into the bargain Tim;
In London can you equal him?
What think you of my favourite clan,
Robin and Jack, and Jack and Dan;d
Fellows of modest worth and parts,
With cheerful looks and honest hearts?
Can you on Dublin look with scorn?
Yet here were you and Ormond born.
"A tavern in St. James's-street.
Mary duchess of Montaguo and marchioness of Monther-
mer, youngest daughter of John duke of Marlborough.
• Dr. Corbet, afterwards dean of St. Patrick's.
d R. and J. Grattan, and J. and D. Jackson.
O! were but you and I so wise,
To see with Robert Grattan's eyes!
Robin adores that spot of earth,
That literal spot which gave him birth;
And swears Belcamp" is, to his taste,
As fine as Hampton-court at least."
When to your friends you would enhance
The praise of Italy or France,
For grandeur, elegance, and wit,
We gladly hear you and submit;
But then, to come and keep a clutter,
For this or that side of a gutter,
To live in this or t'other isle,
We cannot think it worth your while;
For, take it kindly or amiss,
The difference but amounts to this,
We bury on our side the channel
In linen; and on yours in flannel.b
You for the news are ne'er to seek,
While we perhaps may wait a week;
You happy folks are sure to meet
A hundred whores in every street,
While we may trace all Dublin o'er
Before we find out half a score.
You see my arguments are strong,
I wonder you held out so long;
But since you are convinced at last,
We'll pardon you for what is past.
So let us now for whist prepare ;
Twelve pence a corner if you dare.
ON DREAMS.
AN IMITATION OF PETRONIUS.
"Somnia quæ mentes ludunt volitantibus umbris," &c.
THOSE dreams that on the silent night intrude,
And with false flitting shades our minds delude,
Jove never sends us downward from the skies;
Nor can they from infernal mansions rise;
But are all mere productions of the brain,
And fools consult interpreters in vain.
For when in bed we rest our weary limbs,
The mind unburden'd sports in various whims;
The busy head with mimic art runs o'er
The scenes and actions of the day before.
The drowsy tyrant, by his minions led,
To regal rage devotes some patriot's head.
With equal terrors, not with equal guilt,
The murderer dreams of all the blood he spilt.
The soldier smiling hears the widow's cries,
And stabs the son before the mother's eyes.
With like remorse his brother of the trade,
The butcher, fells the lamb beneath his blade.
The statesman rakes the town to find a plot,
And dreams of forfeitures by treason got.
Nor less Tom-t-d-man, of true statesman mould,
Collects the city filth in search of gold.
Orphans around his bed the lawyer sees,
And takes the plaintiff's and defendant's fees,
His fellow pickpurse watching for a job,
Fancies his fingers in the cully's fob.
The kind physician grants the husband's prayers,
Or gives relief to long-expecting heirs.
The sleeping hangman ties the fatal noose,
Nor unsuccessful waits for dead men's shoes.
The grave divine, with knotty points perplex'd,
As if he was awake, nods o'er his text;
While the sly mountebank attends his trade,
Harangues the rabble, and is better paid.
In Fingal, about five miles from Dublin.
The law for burying in woollen was extended to Ireland in
1733.
DELANY TO SWIFT-THE ANSWER-A QUIET LIFE.
627
The hireling senator of modern days
Bedaubs the guilty great with nauseous praise;
And Dick the scavenger, with equal grace
Flirts from his cart the mud into his face.
SENT BY DR. DELANY TO DR. SWIFT,
In order to be admitted to speak to him when he was deaf.
1724.
DEAR Sir, I think, 'tis doubly hard,
Your ears and doors should both be barr'd.
Can anything be more unkind?
Must I not see 'cause you are blind?
Methinks a friend at night should cheer you,-
A friend that loves to see and hear you.
Why am I robb'd of that delight,
When you can be no loser by't?
Nay, when 'tis plain (for what is plainer?)
That if you heard you'd be no gainer ?
For sure you are not yet to learn
That hearing is not your concern.
Then be your doors no longer barr'd :
Your business, sir, is to be heard.
THE ANSWER.
THE wise pretend to make it clear
'Tis no great loss to lose an ear.
Why are we then so fond of two,
When by experience one would do?
'Tis true, say they, cut off the head,
And there's an end; the man is dead;
Because, among all human race,
None e'er was known to have a brace :
But confidently they maintain
That where we find the members twain,
The loss of one is no such trouble,
Since t'other will in strength be double.
The limb surviving, you may swear,
Becomes his brother's lawful heir:
Thus, for a trial, let me beg of
Your reverence but to cut one leg off,
And you shall find, by this device,
The other will be stronger twice;
For every day you shall be gaining
New vigour to the leg remaining.
So, when an eye has lost its brother,
You see the better with the other;
Cut off your hand, and you may do
With t'other hand the work of two:
Because the soul her power contracts,
And on the brother limb re-acts.
But yet the point is not so clear in
Another case, the sense of hearing :
For, though the place of either ear
Be distant, as one head can bear,
Yet Galen most acutely shows you
(Consult his book de partium usu)
That from each ear, as he observes,
There creep two auditory nerves,
Not to be seen without a glass,
Which near the os petrosum pass;
Thence to the neck; and moving thorough there,
One goes to this, and one to t'other ear;
Which made my grandam always stuff her ears
Both right and left, as fellow-sufferers.
You see my learning; but, to shorten it,
When my left ear was deaf a fortnight,
To t'other ear I felt it coming on :
And thus I solve this hard phenomenon.
'Tis true, a glass will bring supplies
To weak, or old, or clouded eyes:
Your arms, though both your eyes were lost,
Would guard your nose against a post :
Without your legs, two legs of wood
Are stronger, and almost as good:
And as for hands, there have been those
Who, wanting both, have used their toes.
But no contrivance yet appears
To furnish artificial ears.
•
1724.
A QUIET LIFE AND A GOOD NAME.
To a friend who married a shrew.
NELL scolded in so loud a din,
That Will durst hardly venture in :
He mark'd the conjugal dispute;
Nell roar'd incessant, Dick sat mute ;
But, when he saw his friend appear,
Cried bravely, "Patience, good my dear!"
At sight of Will, she bawl'd no more,
But hurried out and clapp'd the door.
Why, Dick! the devil's in thy Nell,
(Quoth Will,) thy house is worse than hell:
Why what a peal the jade has rung!
D-n her, why don't you slit her tongue?
For nothing else will make it cease.
Dear Will, I suffer this for peace
I never quarrel with my wife;
I bear it for a quiet life.
Scripture, you know, exhorts us to it;
Bids us to seek peace, and ensue it
Will went again to visit Dick;
And entering in the very nick.
He saw virago Nell belabour,
With Dick's own staff, his peaceful neighbour:
Poor Will, who needs must interpose,
Received a brace or two of blows.
But now, to make my story short,
Will drew out Dick to take a quart.
Why, Dick, thy wife has devilish whims;
Ods-buds! why don't you break her limbs?
If she were mine, and had such tricks.
I'd teach her how to handle sticks:
Z-ds! I would ship her to Jamaica,
Or truck the carrion for tobacco:
I'd send her far enough away-
Dear Will; but what would people say?
Lord! I should get so ill a name,
The neighbours round would cry out shame.
Dick suffer'd for his peace and credit;
But who believed him when he said it?
Can he, who makes himself a slave,
Consult his peace, or credit save ?
Dick found it by his ill success,
His quiet small, his credit less.
She served him at the usual rate;
She stunn'd, and then she broke his pate:
And what he thought the hardest case,
The parish jeer'd him to his face ;
Those men who wore the breeches least
Call'd him a cuckold, fool, and beast.
At home he was pursued with noise;
Abroad was pester'd by the boys:
Within, his wife would break his bones;
Without, they pelted him with stones;
The 'prentices procured a riding,ª
To act his patience and her chiding.
False patience and mistaken pride!
There are ten thousand Dicks beside;
Slaves to their quiet and good name
Are used like Dick, and bear the blame.
A PASTORAL DIALOGUE;
Written after the news of the death of king George I., who
died after a short sickness, by eating a melon, at Osnaburg,
on his way to Hanover, June 11, 1727.
"RICHMOND Lodge is a house with a small park belonging to
the crown. It was usually granted by the crown for a lease of
* A well-known humorous cavalcade, in ridicule of a scolding
wife and henpecked husband.
2 s 2
628
A PASTORAL DIALOGUE-DESIRE AND POSSESSION.
years. The duke of Ormond was the last who had it. After
his exile it was given to the prince of Wales by the king. The
prince and princess usually passed their summer there. It is
within a mile of Richmond.
“ Marble-hill is a house built by Mrs. Howard, then of the
bedchamber, afterwards countess of Suffolk and groom of the
stole to the queen. It is on the Middlesex side, near Twicken-
ham, where Mr. Pope lived, and about two miles from Rich-
mond lodge. Mr. Pope was the contriver of the gardens,
lord Herbert the architect, the dean of St. Patrick's chief butler
and keeper of the ice-house. Upon king George's death these
two houses met and had the following dialogue."
In spite of Pope, in spite of Gay,
And all that he or they can say,
Sing on I must and sing I will
Of Richmond Lodge and Marble Hill.
Last Friday night, as neighbours use,
This couple met to talk of news:
For by old proverbs it appears
That walls have tongues, and hedges ears.
MARBLE HILL.
Quoth Marble Hill, right well I ween,
Your mistress now is grown a queen;
You'll find it soon by woful proof,
She'll come no more beneath your roof.
RICHMOND LODGE.
The kingly prophet well evinces
That we should put no trust in princes:
My royal master promised me
To raise me to a high degree ;
But now he's grown a king, God wot,
I fear I shall be soon forgot.
You see, when folks have got their ends,
How quickly they neglect their friends;
Yet I may say, 'twixt me and you,
Pray God, they now may find us true!
MAR. H. My house was built but for a show,
My lady's empty pockets know;
And now she will not have a shilling,
To raise the stairs or build the ceiling;
For all the courtly madams round
Now pay four shillings in the pound;
'Tis come to what I always thought
My dame is hardly worth a groat.
Had you and I been courtiers born,
We should not thus have lain forlorn;
For those we dext'rous courtiers call
Can rise upon their masters' fall:
But we, unlucky and unwise,
Must fall because our masters rise.
RICH. L. My master, scarce a fortnight since,
Was grown as wealthy as a prince;
But now it will be no such thing,
For he'll be poor as any king;
And by his crown will nothing get,
But like a king to run in debt.
MAR. H. No more the dean, that grave divine,
Shall keep the key of my no-wine;
My ice-house rob, as heretofore,
And steal my artichokes no more;
Poor Patty Blount no more be seen
Bedraggled in my walks so green:
Plump Johnny Gay will now elope;
And here no more will dangle Pope.
RICH. L. Here wont the dean, when he's to seek,
To sponge a breakfast once a-week ;
To cry the bread was stale, and mutter
Complaints against the royal butter.
But now I fear it will be said,
No butter sticks upon his bread.
We soon shall find him full of spleen,
For want of tattling to the queen;
A
ს
Stunning her royal ears with talking;
His reverence and her highness walking:
While lady Charlotte," like a stroller,
Sits mounted on the garden-roller.
A goodly sight to see her ride,
With ancient Mirmont b at her side.
In velvet cap his head lies warm,
His hat, for show, beneath his arm.
MAR. H. Some South-Sea broker from the city
Will purchase me, the more's the pity;
Lay all my fine plantations waste,
To fit them to his vulgar taste;
Changed for the worse in every part,
My master Pope will break his heart.
RICH. L. In my own Thames may I be drownded,
If e'er I stoop beneath a crown'd head:
Except her majesty prevails
To place me with the prince of Wales;
And then I shall be free from fears,
For he'll be prince these fifty years.
I then will turn a courtier too,
And serve the times as others do.
Plain loyalty, not built on hope,
I leave to your contriver, Pope;
None loves his king and country better,
Yet none was ever less their debtor.
MAR. H. Then let him come and take a nap
In summer on my verdant lap;
Prefer our villas, where the Thames is,
To Kensington, or hot St. James's;
Nor shall I dull in silence sit;
For 'tis to me he owes his wit;
My groves, my echoes, and my birds,
Have taught him his poetic words.
We gardens, and you wildernesses,
Assist all poets in distresses.
Him twice a-week I here expect,
To rattle Moody c for neglect;
C
An idle rogue, who spends his quartridge
In tippling at the Dog and Partridge;
And I can hardly get him down
Three times a-week to brush my gown.
RICH. L. I pity you, dear Marble Hill;
But hope to see you flourish still.
All happiness-and so adieu.
MAR. H. Kind Richmond Lodge, the same to you.
DESIRE AND POSSESSION.
1727.
'Tis strange what different tboughts inspire
In men Possession and Desire!
Think what they wish so great a blessing;
So disappointed when possessing!
A moralist profoundly sage
(I know not in what book or page,
Or whether o'er a pot of ale)
Related thus the following tale :—
Possession, and Desire, his brother,
But still at variance with each other,
Were seen contending in a race ;
And kept at first an equal pace;
'Tis said their course continued long,
For this was active, that was strong:
Till Envy, Slander, Sloth, and Doubt,
Misled them many a league about;
Seduced by some deceiving light,
They take the wrong way for the right;
Lady Charlotte de Roussy, a French lady.
b Marquis de Mirmont, a Frenchman of quality, who had
emigrated from his country.
The gardener.
ON CENSURE-THE FURNITURE OF A WOMAN'S MIND.
629
Through slippery by-roads, dark and deep,
They often climb and often creep.
Desire, the swifter of the two,
Along the plain like lightning flew :
Till, entering on a broad highway,
Where power and titles scatter'd lay,
He strove to pick up all he found,
And by excursions lost his ground:
No sooner got than with disdain
He threw them on the ground again;
And hasted forward to pursue
Fresh objects fairer to his view,
In hope to spring some nobler game;
But all he took was just the same:
Too scornful now to stop his pace,
He spurn'd them in his rival's face.
Possession kept the beaten road,
And gather'd all his brother strew'd;
But overcharged and out of wind,
Though strong in limbs, he lagg'd behind.
Desire had now the goal in sight;
It was a tower of monstrous height;
Where on the summit Fortune stands,
A crown and sceptre in her hands;
Beneath a chasm as deep as hell,
Where many a bold adventurer fell.
Desire, in rapture, gazed awhile,
And saw the treacherous goddess smile;
But as he climb'd to grasp the crown
She knock'd him with the sceptre down!
He tumbled in the gulf profound;
There doom'd to whirl an endless round.
Possession's load was grown so great,
He sunk beneath the cumb'rous weight;
And, as he now expiring lay,
Flocks every ominous bird of prey;
The raven, vulture, owl, and kite,
At once upon his carcase light,
And strip his hide, and pick his bones,
Regardless of his dying groans.
ON CENSURE. 1727.
YE wise, instruct me to endure
An evil which admits no cure;
Or, how this evil can be borne,
Which breeds at once both hate and scorn.
Bare innocence is no support,
When you are tried in Scandal's court.
Stand high in honour, wealth, or wit;
All others, who inferior sit,
Conceive themselves in conscience bound
To join, and drag you to the ground.
Your altitude offends the eyes
Of those who want the power to rise.
The world, a willing stander-by,
Inclines to aid a specious lie:
Alas! they would not do you wrong;
But all appearances are strong.
Yet whence proceeds this weight we lay
On what detracting people say?
For let mankind discharge their tongues
In venom till they burst their lungs,
Their utmost malice cannot make
Your head, or tooth, or finger ache;
Nor spoil your shape, distort your face,
Or put one feature out of place;
Nor will you find your fortune sink
By what they speak or what they think;
Nor can ten hundred thousand lies
Make you less virtuous, learn'd, or wise.
The most effectual way to balk
Their malice is-to let them talk.
THE FURNITURE OF A WOMAN'S MIND.
1727.
A SET of phrases learn'd by rote;
A passion for a scarlet coat;
When at a play to laugh or cry,
Yet cannot tell the reason why;
Never to hold her tongue a minute,
While all she prates has nothing in it;
Whole hours can with a coxcomb sit,
And take his nonsense all for wit ,
Her learning mounts to read a song,
But half the words pronouncing wrong;
Has every repartee in store
She spoke ten thousand times before;
Can ready compliments supply
On all occasions cut and dry;
Such hatred to a parson's gown,
The sight would put her in a swoon;
For conversation well endued,
She calls it witty to be rude;
And, placing raillery in railing,
Will tell aloud your greatest failing;
Nor make a scruple to expose
Your bandy leg or crooked nose;
Can at her morning tea run o'er
The scandal of the day before;
Improving hourly in her skill
To cheat and wrangle at quadrille.
In choosing lace a critic nice,
Knows to a groat the lowest price;
Can in her female clubs dispute
What linen best the silk will suit,
What colours each complexion match,
And where with art to place a patch.
If chance a mouse creeps in her sight,
Can finely counterfeit a fright;
So sweetly screams if it comes near her,
She ravishes all hearts to hear her
Can dext❜rously her husband teaze
By taking fits whene'er she please ;
By frequent practice learns the trick
At
proper seasons to be sick ;
Thinks nothing gives one airs so pretty,
At once creating love and pity;
If Melly happens to be careless,
And but neglects to warm her hair-lace,
She gets a cold as sure as death,
And vows she scarce can fetch her breath;
Admires how modest women can
Be so robustious like a man.
In party, furious to her power;
A bitter Whig, or Tory sour;
Her arguments directly tend
Against the side she would defend ;
Will prove herself a Tory plain,
From principles the Whigs maintain;
And, to defend the Whiggish cause,
Her topics from the Tories draws.
O yes! if any man can find
More virtues in a woman's mind,
Let them be sent to Mrs. Harding; a
She'll pay the charges to a farthing;
Take notice, she has my commission
To add them in the next edition;
They may outsell a better thing:
So, halloo, boys; God save the king!
CLEVER TOM CLINCH,
GOING TO BE HANGED. 1727.
As clever Tom Clinch, while the rabble was bawling,
Rode stately through Holborn to die in his calling,
a Widow of John Harding, the drapier's printer.
630
SWIFT TO POPE-A LOVE-POEM-&c.
He stopp'd at the George for a bottle of sack,
And promised to pay for it when he came back.
His waistcoat, and stockings, and breeches were
His cap had a new cherry ribbon to tie't. [white;
The maids to the doors and the balconies ran,
And said, "Lack-a-day, he's a proper young man!"
But, as from the windows the ladies he spied,
Like a beau in the box, he bow'd low on each side!
And when his last speech the loud hawkers did cry,
He swore from his cart "It was all a damn'd lie!"
The hangman for pardon fell down on his knee;
Tom gave him a kick in the guts for his fee:
Then said, I must speak to the people a little;
But I'll see you all damn'd before I will whittle.a
My honest friend Wildb (may he long hold his place!),
He lengthen'd my life with a whole year of grace.
Take courage, dear comrades, and be not afraid,
Nor slip this occasion to follow your trade;
My conscience is clear, and my spirits are calm,
And thus I go off, without prayer-book or psalm;
Then follow the practice of clever Tom Clinch,
Who hung like a hero and never would flinch.
ADVICE
TO THE GRUB-STREET VERSE-WRITERS.
726.
YE poets ragged and forlorn,
Down from your garrets haste;
Ye rhymers, dead as soon as born,
Not yet consign'd to paste;
I know a trick to make you thrive ;
O, 'tis a quaint device:
Your still-born poems shall revive,
And scorn to wrap up spice.
Get all your verses printed fair,
Then let them well be dried;
And Curll must have a special care
To leave the margin wide.
Lend these to paper-sparing Pope;
And when he sits to write,
No letter with an envelope
Could give him more delight.
When Pope has fill'd the margins round
Why then recall your loan;
Sell them to Curll for fifty pound,
And swear they are your own.
DR. SWIFT TO MR. POPE,
While he was writing the Dunciad.
1727.
POPE has the talent well to speak,
But not to reach the ear;
His loudest voice is low and weak,
The dean too deaf to hear.
Awhile they on each other look,
Then different studies choose;
The dean sits plodding on a book;
Pope walks and courts the Muse.
Now backs of letters, though design'd
For those who more will need 'em,
Are fill'd with hints, and interlined,
Himself can hardly read 'em.
Each atom, by some other struck,
All turns and motions tries;
Till, in lump together stuck,
Behold a poem rise :
A cant word for confessing.
b The noted thief-catcher, under-keeper of Newgate, executed
for receiving stolen goods.
Yet to the dean his share allot;
He claims it by a canon;
That without which a thing is not
Is causa sine quâ non.
Thus, Pope, in vain you boast your wit;
For, had our deaf divine
Been for your conversation fit,
You had not writ a line.
a
Of Sherlock, thus, for preaching famed,
The sexton reason'd well;
And justly half the merit claim'd,
Because he rang the bell.
A LOVE-POEM.
FROM A PHYSICIAN TO HIS MISTRESS.
Written at London.
By poets we are well assured
That love, alas! can ne'er be cured;
A complicated heap of ills,
Despising boluses and pills.
Ah! Chloe, this I find is true,
Since first I gave my heart to you.
Now, by your cruelty hard bound,
I strain my guts, my colon wound.
Now jealousy my grumbling tripes
Assaults with grating, grinding gripes.
When pity in those eyes I view,
My bowels wambling make me spew.
When I an amorous kiss design'd,
I belch'd a hurricane of wind.
Once you a gentle sigh let fall;
Remember how I suck'd it all ;
What colic pangs from thence I felt,
Had you but known your heart would melt,
Like ruffling winds in caverns pent,
Till nature pointed out a vent.
How have you torn my heart to pieces
With maggots, humours, and caprices!
By which I got the hemorrhoids;
And loathsome worms my anus voids.
Whene'er I hear a rival named,
I feel my body all inflamed;
Which breaking out in boils and blains,
With yellow filth my linen stains;
Or, parch'd with unextinguish'd thirst,
Small-beer I guzzle till I burst ;
And then I drag a bloated corpus,
Swell'd with a dropsy, like a porpus;
When, if I cannot purge or stale,
I must be tapp'd to fill a pail.
BOUTS RIMES.
ON SIGNORA DOMITILLA.
OUR schoolmaster may rave i' th' fit
Of classic beauty, hæc et illa;
Not all his birch inspires such wit
As th' ogling beams of Domitilla.
Let nobles toast, in bright champagne,
Nymphs higher born than Domitilla;
I'll drink ner health, again, again,
In Berkeley's tar or sars'parilla.
At Goodman's-fields I've much admired
The postures strange of monsieur Brilla;
But what are they to the soft step,
The gliding air of Domitilla?
Virgil has eternized in song
The flying footsteps of Camilla;
Sure, as a prophet, he was wrong;
He might have dream'd of Domitilla.
The dean of St. Paul's, father to the bishop.
HELTER SKELTER-THE PUPPET-SHOW.
631
Great Theodose condemn'd a town
For thinking ill of his Placilla :
And deuce take London! if some knight
O' th' city wed not Domitilla.
Wheeler, sir George, in travels wise,
Gives us a medal of Plantilla ;
But O! the empress has not eyes,
Nor lips, nor breast, like Domitilla.
Not all the wealth of plunder'd Italy,
Piled on the mules of king At-tila,
Is worth one glove (I'll not tell a bit a lie)
Or garter snatch'd from Domitilla.
Five years a nymph at certain hamlet,
Ycleped Harrow of the Hill, a-
―bused much my heart and was a damn'd let
To verse-but now for Domitilla.
Dan Pope consigns Belinda's watch
To the fair sylphid Momentilla,
And thus I offer up my catch
To the snow-white hands of Domitilla.
HELTER SKELTER;
OR, THE HUE AND CRY AFTER THE ATTORNEYS UPON
THEIR RIDING THE CIRCUIT.
IN ridicule of the easy strains of poor Ambrose Phillips, so
often doomed to undergo the satire of Swift and Pope.
Now the active young attorneys
Briskly travel on their journeys,
Looking big as any giants
On the horses of their clients;
Like so many little Marses
With their tilters at their a—s,
Brazen-hilted, lately burnish'd,
And with harness-buckles furnish'd,
And with whips and spurs so neat,
And with jockey-coats complete,
And with boots so very greasy,
And with saddles eke so easy,
And with bridles fine and gay,
Bridles borrow'd for a day,
Bridles destined far to roam,
Ah! never, never to come home.
And with hats so very big, sir,
And with powder'd caps and wigs, sir.
And with ruffles to be shown,
Cambric ruffles not their own;
And with Holland shirts so white,
Shirts becoming to the sight,
Shirts bewrought with different letters,
As belonging to their betters.
With their pretty tinsel'd boxes,
Gotten from their dainty doxies,
And with rings so very trim,
Lately taken out of lim-a
And with very little pence,
And as very little sense;
With some law, but little justice,
Having stolen from my hostess,
From the barber and the cutler,
Like the soldier from the sutler;
From the vintner and the tailor,
Like the felon from the jailor;
Into this and t'other county,
Living on the public bounty;
Thorough town and thorough village,
All to plunder, all to pillage:
Thorough mountains, thorough valleys,
Thorough stinking lanes and alleys,
Some to-kiss with farmers' spouses,
And make merry in their houses;
Some to tumble country wenches
On their rushy beds and benches;
• A cant word for pawning.
And if they begin a fray,
Draw their swords and-run away;
All to murder equity,
And to take a double fee
;
Till the people all are quiet,
And forget to broil and riot,
Low in pocket, cow'd in courage,
Safely glad to sup their porridge,
And vacation's over-then
Hey for London town again.
THE PUPPET-SHOW.
THE life of man to represent,
And turn it all to ridicule,
Wit did a puppet-show invent,
Where the chief actor is a fool.
The gods of old were logs of wood,
And worship was to puppets paid;
In antic dress the idol stood,
And priest and people bow'd the head.
No wonder then, if art began
The simple votaries to frame,
To shape in timber foolish man,
And consecrate the block to fame.
From hence poetic fancy learn'd
That trees might rise from human forms;
The body to a trunk be turn'd,
And branches issue from the arms.
Thus Dædalus and Ovid too,
That man's a blockhead, have confess'd:
Powela and Stretch a the hint pursue;
Life is a farce, the world a jest.
The same great truth South Sea has proved
On that famed theatre, the Alley;
Where thousands, by directors moved,
Are now sad monuments of folly.
What Momus was of old to Jove,
The same a Harlequin is now;
The former was buffoon above,
The latter is a Punch below.
This fleeting scene is but a stage,
Where various images appear;
In different parts of youth and age,
Alike the prince and peasant share.
Some draw our eyes by being great,
False pomp conceals mere wood within;
And legislators ranged in state
Are oft but wisdom in machine.
A stock may chance to wear a crown,
And timber as a lord take place:
A statue may put on a frown,
And cheat us with a thinking face.
Others are blindly led away,
And made to act for ends unknown;
By the mere spring of wires they play,
And speak in language not their own.
Too oft, alas! a scolding wife
Usurps a jolly fellow's throne;
And many drink the cup of life
Mix'd and embitter'd by a Joan.
In short, whatever men pursue,
Of pleasure, folly, war, or love:
This mimic race brings all to view:
Alike they dress, they talk, they move.
Go on, great Stretch, with artful hand,
Mortals to please and to deride;
And when death breaks thy vital band,
Thou shalt put on a puppet's pride.
Two famous puppet-show men.
632
THE JOURNAL OF A MODERN LADY.
Thou shalt in puny wood be shown,
Thy image shall preserve thy fame,
Ages to come thy worth shall own,
Point at thy limbs, and tell thy name.
Tell Tom [Sheridan] he draws a farce in vain,
Before he looks in Nature's glass;
Puns cannot form a witty scene,
Nor pedantry for humour pass.
To make men act as senseless wood,
And chatter in a mystic strain,
Is a mere force on flesh and blood,
And shows some error in the brain.
He that would thus refine on thee,
And turn thy stage into a school,
The jest of Punch will ever be,
And stand confess'd the greater fool.
1728.
THE JOURNAL OF A MODERN LADY.
In a letter to a person of quality.
SIR, 'twas a most unfriendly part
In you, who ought to know my heart,
Are well acquainted with my zeal
For all the female commonweal-
How could it come into your mind
To pitch on me, of all mankind,
Against the sex to write a satire,
And brand me for a woman-hater?
On me, who think them all so fair,
They rival Venus to a hair;
Their virtues never cease to sing,
Since first I learn'd to tune a string
Methinks I hear the ladies cry,
Will he his character belie?
Must never our misfortunes end?
And have we lost our only friend?
Ah, lovely nymphs! remove your fears,
No more let fall those precious tears.
Sooner shall, &c.
[Here several verses are omitted.]
The hound be hunted by the hare,
Than I turn rebel to the fair.
'Twas you engaged me first to write,
Then gave the subject out of spite:
The journal of a modern dame
Is, by my promise, what you claim.
My word is pass'd, I must submit
And yet perhaps you may be bit.
I but transcribe; for not a line
Of all the satire shall be mine.
Compell'd by you to tag in rhymes
The common slanders of the times,
Of modern times, the guilt is yours,
And me my innocence sccures.
Unwilling Muse, begin thy lay,
The annals of a female day.
By nature turn'd to play the rake well,
(As we shall show you in the sequel),
The modern dame is waked by noon,
(Some authors say not quite so soon),
Because, though sore against her will,
She sat all night up at quadrille.
She stretches, gapes, unglues her eyes,
And asks if it be time to rise;
Of headache and the spleen complains ;
And then, to cool her heated brains,
Her night-gown and her slippers brought her,
Takes a large dram of citron-water.
Then to her glass; and, "Betty, pray,
Don't I look frightfully to-day?
But was it not confounded hard?
Well, if I ever touch a card!
Four matadores, and lose codille!
Depend upon't, I never will.
But run to Tom, and bid him fix
The ladies here to-night by six.”
"Madam, the goldsmith waits below;
He says,
his business is to know
If you'll redeem the silver cup
He keeps in pawn?"-" First, show him up."
"Your dressing-plate he'll be content
To take, for interest cent. per cent. :
And, madam, there's my lady Spade
Has sent this letter by her maid."
"Well, I remember what she won;
And has she sent so soon to dun?
Here, carry down these ten pistoles
My husband left to pay for coals;
I thank my stars they all are light,
And I may have revenge to-night."
Now, loitering o'er her tea and cream,
She enters on her usual theme;
Her last night's ill success repeats,
Calls lady Spade a hundred cheats:
"She slipp'd spadillo in her breast,
Then thought to turn it to a jest:
There's Mrs. Cut and she combine,
And to each other give the sign."
Through every game pursues her tale,
Like hunters o'er their evening ale.
Now to another scene give place:
Enter the folks with silks and lace:
Fresh matter for a world of chat,
Right Indian this, right Mechlin that:
"Observe this pattern-there's a stuff;
I can have customers enough.
Dear madam, you are grown so hard-
This lace is worth twelve pounds a-yard:
Madam, if there be truth in man,
I never sold so cheap a fan."
This business of importance o'er,
And madam almost dress'd by four;
The footman, in his usual phrase,
Comes up with, "Madam, dinner stays."
She answers, in her usual style,
"The cook must keep it back a while;
I never can have time to dress,
No woman breathing takes up less;
I'm hurried so, it makes me sick;
I wish the dinner at Old Nick."
At table now she acts her part,
Has all the dinner cant by heart:
"I thought we were to dine alone,
My dear; for sure, if I had known
This company would come to-day-
But really 'tis my spouse's way!
He's so unkind, he never sends
To tell when he invites his friends:
I wish ye may but have enough!"
And while with all this paltry stuff
She sits tormenting every guest,
Nor gives her tongue one moment's rest,
In phrases batter'd, stale, and trite,
Which modern ladies call polite;
You see the booby husband sit
In admiration at her wit!
But let me now a while survey
Our madam o'er her evening tea;
Surrounded with her noisy clans
Of prudes, coquettes, and harridans;
When, frighted at the clamorous crew,
Away the god of silence flew,
And fair Discretion left the place,
And Modesty with blushing face;
Now enters overweening Pride,
And Scandal, ever gaping wide,
Hypocrisy with frown severe,
Scurrility with gibing air;
THE JOURNAL OF A MODERN LADY
633
Rude Laughter seeming like to burst,
And Malice always judging worst;
And Vanity with pocket-glass,
And Impudence with front of brass;
And studied Affectation came,
Each limb and feature out of frame;
While Ignorance, with brain of lead,
Flew hovering o'er each female head.
Why should I ask of thee, my Muse,
A hundred tongues, as poets use,
When, to give every dame her due,
A hundred thousand were too few?
Or how should I, alas! relate
The sum of all their senseless prate,
Their innuendoes, hints, and slanders,
Their meaning lewd, and double entendres?
Now comes the general scandal charge;
What some invent, the rest enlarge;
And, “Madam, if it be a lie,
You have the tale as cheap as
I must conceal my author's name:
But now 'tis known to common fame."
Say, foolish females, bold and blind,
Say, by what fatal turn of mind
Are you on vices most severe
Wherein yourselves have greatest share?
Thus every fool herself deludes;
The prudes condemn the absent prudes:
Mopsa, who stinks her spouse to death,
Accuses Chloe's tainted breath;
Hircina, rank with sweat, presumes
To censure Phyllis for perfumes;
While crooked Cynthia sneering says
That Florimel wears iron stays;
Chloe, of every coxcomb jealous,
Admires how girls can talk with fellows;
And, full of indignation, frets
That women should be such coquettes :
Iris, for scandal most notorious,
Cries, "Lord, the world is so censorious!"
And Rufa, with her combs of lead,
Whispers that Sappho's hair is red:
Aura, whose tongue you hear a mile hence,
Talks half a day in praise of silence;
And Sylvia, full of inward guilt,
Calls Amoret an arrant jilt.
Now voices over voices rise,
While each to be the loudest vies:
They contradict, affirm, dispute,
No single tongue one moment mute;
All mad to speak, and none to hearken,
They set the very lap-dog barking;
Their chattering makes a louder din
Than fishwives o'er a cup of gin;
Not schoolboys at a barring out
Raised ever such incessant rout;
The jumbling particles of matter
In chaos made not such a clatter ;
Far less the rabble roar and rail
When drunk with sour election ale.
Nor do they trust their tongues alone,
But speak a language of their own;
Can read a nod, a shrug, a look,
Far better than a printed book;
Convey a libel in a frown,
And wink a reputation down;
Or by the tossing of the fan
Describe the lady and the man.
But see, the female club disbands,
Each twenty visits on her hands.
Now all alone poor madam sits
In vapours and hysteric fits;
"And was not Tom this morning sent?
I'd lay my life he never went ;
Past six, and not a living soul
I might by this have won a vole.”
A dreadful interval of spleen!
How shall we pass the time between?
Here, Betty, let me take my drops;
And feel my pulse, I know it stops ;
This head of mine, lord, how it swims!
And such a pain in all my limbs !"
"Dear madam, try to take a nap”—
But now they hear a footman's rap:
"Go, run, and light the ladies up:
It must be one before we sup."
The table, cards, and counters set,
And all the gamester ladies met,
Her spleen and fits recover'd quite
Our madam can sit up all night;
"Whoever comes, I'm not within.”.
Quadrille's the word, and so begin.
How can the Muse her aid impart,
Unskill'd in all the terms of art?
Or in harmonious numbers put
The deal, the shuffle, and the cut?
The superstitious whims relate,
That fill a female gamester's pate?
What agony of soul she feels
To see a knave's inverted heels!
She draws up card by card to find
Good fortune peeping from behind;
With panting heart and earnest eyes,
In hope to see spadillo rise;
In vain, alas! her hope is fed;
She draws an ace and sees it red;
In ready counters never pays,
But pawns her snuff-box, rings, and keys;
Ever with some new fancy struck,
Tries twenty charms to mend her luck.
"This morning, when the parson came,
I said I should not win a game,
This odious chair, how came I stuck in't?
I think I never had good luck in't.
I'm so uneasy in my stays:
Your fan a moment if you please.
Stand farther, girl, or get you gone;
I always lose when you look on.”
"Lord! madam, you have lost codille:
I never saw you play so ill."
Nay, madam, give me leave to say,
Twas you that threw the game away:
When lady Tricksey play'd a four,
You took it with a matadore;
I saw you touch your wedding-ring
Before my lady call'd a king;
You spoke a word began with H,
And I know whom you mean to teach,
Because you held the king of hearts;
Fie, madam, leave these little arts."
"That's not so bad as one that rubs
Her chair to call the king of clubs ;
And makes her partner understand
A matadore is in her hand.”
"Madam, you have no cause to flounce,
I swear I saw you thrice renounce."
"And truly, madam, I know when
Instead of five you scored me ten.
Spadillo here has got a mark;
A child may know it in the dark :
I guess'd the hand: it seldom fails
I wish some folks would pare their nails."
While thus they rail, and scold, and storm,
It passes but for common form :
But, conscious that they all speak true,
And give each other but their due,
It never interrupts the game,
Or makes them sensible of shame.
634
AN EPIGRAM-THE ANSWER.
The time too precious now to waste,
The supper gobbled up in haste;
Again afresh to cards they run,
As if they had but just begun.
But I shall not again repeat
How oft they squabble, snarl, and cheat.
At last they hear the watchman knock,
"A frosty morn— -past four o'clock."
The chairmen are not to be found;
"Come, let us play the other round.”
Now all in haste they huddle on
Their hoods, their cloaks, and get them gone;
But first the winner must invite
The company to-morrow night.
Unlucky madam, left in tears
(Who now again quadrille forswears),
With empty purse and aching head
Steals to her sleeping spouse to bed.
PAULUS: AN EPIGRAM.
BY MR. LINDSAY.
"A SLAVE to crowds, scorch'd with the summer's
heats,
In courts the wretched lawyer toils and sweats;
While smiling Nature in her best attire
Regales each sense, and vernal joys inspire.
Can he, who knows that real good should please,
Barter for gold his liberty and ease ?”.
Thus Paulus preach'd:-When, entering at the door,
Upon his board the client pours the ore:
He grasps the shining gift, pores o'er the cause,
Forgets the sun, and dozes on the laws.
THE ANSWER.
BY DR. SWIFT.
LINDSAY mistakes the matter quite,
And honest Paulus judges right.
Then, why these quarrels to the sun,
Without whose aid you're all undone ?
Did Paulus c'er complain of sweat?
Did Paulus e'er the sun forget;
The influence of whose golden beams
Soon licks up all unsavoury steams?
The sun, you say, his face has kiss'd:
It has; but then it greased his fist.
True lawyers, for the wisest ends,
Have always been Apollo's friends.
Not for his superficial powers
Of ripening fruits and gilding flowers;
Not for inspiring poet's brains
With penniless and starveling strains;
Not for his boasted healing art;
Not for his skill to shoot the dart;
Nor yet because he sweetly fiddles;
Nor for his prophecies in riddles :
But for a more substantial cause-
Apollo's patron of the laws;
Whom Paulus ever must adore,
As parent of the golden ore,
By Phoebus, an incestuous birth,
Begot upon his grandam Earth;
By Phoebus first produced to light;
By Vulcan form'd so round and bright:
Then offer'd at the shrine of Justice,
By clients to her priests and trustees.
Nor, when we see Astræa stand
With even balance in her hand,
Must we suppose she has in view,
How to give every man his due;
Her scales you see her only hold,
To weigh her priests' the lawyers' gold.
Now, should I own your case was grievous,
Poor sweaty Paulus, who'd believe us?
'Tis very true, and none denies,
At least, that such complaints are wise:
'Tis wise, no doubt, as clients fat you more,
To cry, like statesmen, Quanta patimur!
But, since the truth must needs be stretched
To prove that lawyers are so wretched,
This paradox I'll undertake,
For Paulus' and for Lindsay's sake;
By topics which, though I abomine 'em
May serve as argument ad hominem:
Yet I disdain to offer those
Made use of by detracting foes.
I own the curses of mankind
Sit light upon a lawyer's mind:
The clamours of ten thousand tongues
Break not his rest nor hurt his lungs ;
I own, his conscience always free
(Provided he has got his fee),
Secure of constant peace within,
He knows no guilt who knows no sin.
Yet well they merit to be pitied,
By clients always overwitted.
And though the gospel seems to say
What heavy burdens lawyers lay
Upon the shoulders of their neighbour,
Nor lend a finger to their labour,
Always for saving their own bacon,
No doubt the text is here mistaken:
The copy's false, the sense is rack'd:
To prove it I appeal to fact;
And thus by demonstration show
What burdens lawyers undergo.
;
With early clients at his door,
Though he was drunk the night before,
And crop-sick with unclubb'd-for wine,
The wretch must be at court by nine
Half sunk beneath his briefs and bag,
As ridden by a midnight hag;
Then from the bar harangues the bench
In English vile, and viler French,
And Latin vilest of the three;
And all for poor ten moidores fee!
Of paper how is he profuse,
With periods long, in terms abstruse!
What pains he takes to be prolix!
A thousand lines to stand for six !
Of common sense without a word in!
And is not this a grievous burden?
The lawyer is a common drudge,
To fight our cause before the judge:
And what is yet a greater curse,
Condemn'd to bear his client's purse:
While he at ease, secure and light,
Walks boldly home at dead of night;
When term is ended leaves the town,
Trots to his country mansion down;
And, disencumber'd of his load,
No danger dreads upon the road;
Despises rapparees, and rides
Safe through the Newry mountains' sides.
Lindsay, 'tis you have set me on
To state this question pro and con.
My satire may offend, 'tis true;
However, it concerns not you.
I own, there may, in every clan,
Perhaps be found one honest man;
Yet link them close, in this they jump,
To be but rascals in the lump.
Imagine Lindsay at the bar,
He's much the same his brethren are;
Well taught by practice to imbibe
The fundamentals of his tribe:
A DIALOGUE, &c.-ON BURNING A DULL POEM.
635
And in his client's just defence
Must deviate oft from common sense;
And make his ignorance discern'd,
To get the name of council learn'd,
(As lucus comes a non lucendo,)
And wisely do as other men do:
But shift him to a better scene,
Among his crew of rogues in grain;
Surrounded with companions fit,
To taste his humour, sense, and wit;
You'd swear he never took a fee,
Nor knew in law his A, B, C.
'Tis hard, where dulness overrules,
To keep good sense in crowds of fools.
And we admire the man who saves
His honesty in crowds of knaves;
Nor yields up virtue at discretion
To villains of his own profession.
Lindsay, you know what pains you take
In both, yet hardly save your stake;
And will you venture both anew
To sit among that venal crew,
That pack of mimic legislators,
Abandon'd, stupid, slavish praters?
For as the rabble daub and rifle
The fool who scrambles for a trifle;
Who for his pains is cuff'd and kick'd,
Drawn through the dirt, his pockets pick'd;
You must expect the like disgrace,
Scrambling with rogues to get a place ;
Must lose the honour you have gain'd,
Your numerous virtues foully stain'd:
Disclaim for ever all pretence
To common honesty and sense;
And join in friendship with a strict tie,
To M-1, C-y, and Dick Tighe.a
A DIALOGUE
BETWEEN AN EMINENT LAWYER [DR. LINDSAY] AND
a
DR. JONATHAN SWIFT, D. S. P. D.
In allusion to Horace, book ii. satire i.
"Sunt quibus in Satirâ," &c.
Written by Mr. Lindsay in 1729.
DR. SWIFT.
SINCE there are persons who complain
There's too much satire in my vein;
That I am often found exceeding
The rules of raillery and breeding;
With too much freedom treat my betters,
Not sparing even men of letters:
You, who are skill'd in lawyers' lore,
What's your advice? Shall I give o'er?
Nor ever fools or knaves expose,
Either in verse or humorous prose:
And to avoid all future ill,
In my scrutoire lock up my quill ?
LAWYER.
Since you are pleased to condescend
To ask the judgment of a friend,
Your case consider'd, I must think
You should withdraw from pen and ink,
Forbear your poetry and jokes,
And live like other christian folks;
Or, if the Muses must inspire
Your fancy with their pleasing fire,
Take subjects safer for your wit
Than those on which you lately writ.
Commend the times, your thoughts correct.
And follow the prevailing sect;
Assert that Hyde, in writing story,
Shows all the malice of a Tory;
Richard Tighe, esq., member of the Irish parliament, and
disliked by the dean.
While Burnet in his deathless page
Discovers freedom without rage.
To Woolston recommend our youth,
For learning, probity, and truth;
That noble genius who unbinds
The chains which fetter freeborn minds;
Redeems us from the slavish fears
Which lasted near two thousand years;
He can alone the priesthood humble,
Make gilded spires and altars tumble.
DR. S. Must I commend, against my conscience,
Such stupid blasphemy and nonsense;
To such a subject tune my lyre,
And sing like one of Milton's choir,
Where devils to a vale retreat,
And call the laws of Wisdom, Fate;
Lament upon their hapless fall,
That Force free Virtue should enthrall?
Or shall the charms of Wealth and Power
Make me pollute the Muses' bower?
LAW. As from the tripod of Apollo,
Hear from my desk the words that follow:
"Some, by philosophers misled,
;
Must honour you alive and dead
And such as know what Greece has writ
Must taste your irony and wit;
While most that are or would be great
Must dread your pen, your person hate;
And you on Drapier's hill must lie,
And there without a mitre die.”
ON BURNING A DULL POEM.
1729.
AN ass's hoof alone can hold
That poisonous juice which kills by cold.
Methought, when I this poem read,
No vessel but an ass's head
Such frigid fustian could contain;
I mean, the head without the brain.
The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts,
Went down like stupifying draughts;
I found my head began to swim,
A numbness crept through every limb.
In haste, with imprecations dire,
I threw the volume in the fire
;
When, (who could think?) though cold as ice,
It burnt to ashes in a trice.
How could I more enhance its fame ?
Though born in snow, it died in flame.
THE PROGRESS OF MARRIAGE.
ÆTATIS SUÆ fifty-two,
A rich divine began to woo
A handsome, young, imperious girl,
Nearly related to an earl.
Her parents and her friends consent;
The couple to the temple went:
They first invite the Cyprian queen;
'Twas answer'd, "She would not be seen;"
The Graces next, and all the Muses,
Were bid in form, but sent excuses.
Juno attended at the porch,
;
With farthing candle for a torch
While mistress Iris held her train,
The faded bow distilling rain.
Then Hebe came, and took her place,
But show'd no more than half her face.
Whate'er those dire forebodings meant,
In mirth the wedding-day was spent;
The wedding-day, you take me right,
I promise nothing for the night,
The bridegroom, dress'd to make a figure,
Assumes an artificial vigour;
636
THE PROGRESS OF MARRIAGE.
A flourish'd night-cap on, to grace
His ruddy, wrinkled, smiling face;
Like the faint red upon a pippin,
Half wither'd by a winter's keeping,
And thus set out this happy pair,
The swain is rich, the nymph is fair;
But, what I gladly would forget,
The swain is old, the nymph coquette.
Both from the goal together start;
Scarce run a step before they part;
No common ligament that binds
The various textures of their minds;
Their thoughts and actions, hopes and fears,
Less corresponding than their years.
Her spouse desires his coffee soon,
She rises to her tea at noon.
While he goes out to cheapen books,
She at the glass consults her looks;
While Betty's buzzing in her ear,
Lord, what a dress these parsons wear!
So odd a choice how could she make!
Wish'd him a colonel for her sake.
Then, on her finger ends she counts
Exact to what his age amounts.
The dean, she heard her uncle say,
Is sixty, if he be a day;
His ruddy cheeks are no disguise
You see the crow's feet round his eyes.
At one she rambles to the shops,
To cheapen tea and talk with fops;
Or calls a council of her maids
And tradesmen, to compare brocades.
Her weighty morning business o'er,
Sits down to dinner just at four;
Minds nothing that is done or said,
Her evening work so fills her head.
The dean, who used to dine at one,
Is mawkish and his stomach's gone;
In threadbare gown would scare a louse hold,
Looks like the chaplain of his household;
Beholds her, from the chaplain's place,
In French brocades and Flanders lace;
He wonders what employs her brain,
But never asks, or asks in vain;
His mind is full of other cares,
And in the sneaking parson's airs
Computes that half a parish dues
Will hardly find his wife in shoes.
Canst thou imagine, dull divine,
'Twill gain her love to make her fine?
Hath she no other wants beside?
You raise desire as well as pride,
Enticing coxcombs to adore
And teach her to despise thee more.
If in her coach she'll condescend
To place him at the hinder end,
Her hoop is hoist above his nose,
His odious gown would soil her clothes,
And drops him at the church, to pray,
While she drives on to see the play.
He, like an orderly divine,
Comes home a quarter after nine,
And meets her hasting to the ball:
Her chairmen push him from the wall.
He enters in and walks up stairs,
And calls the family to prayers;
Then goes alone to take his rest
In bed, where he can spare her best.
At five the footmen make a din,
Her ladyship is just come in;
The masquerade began at two,
She stole away with much ado;
And shall be chid this afternoon,
For leaving company so soon:
She'll say, and she may truly say't,
She can't abide to stay out late.
But now, though scarce a twelvemonth married,
Poor lady Jane has thrice miscarried:
The cause, alas! is quickly guess'd;
The town has whisper'd round the jest.
Think on some remedy in time,
You find his reverence past his prime,
Already dwindled to a lath:
No other way but try the bath.
For Venus, rising from the ocean,
Infused a strong prolific potion,
That mix'd with Acheloüs' spring,
The horned flood, as poets sing,
Who, with an English beauty smitten,
Ran under ground from Greece to Britain;
The genial virtue with him brought,
And gave the nymph a plenteous draught;
Then fled, and left his horn behind,
For husbands past their youth to find:
The nymph, who still with passion burn'd,
Was to a boiling fountain turn'd,
Where childless wives crowd every morn
To drink in Acheloüs' horn.
And here the father often gains
That title by another's pains.
Hither, though much against the grain,
The dean has carried lady Jane.
He for a while would not consent,
But vow'd his money all was spent:
His money spent! a clownish reason!
And must my lady slip her season?
The doctor, with a double fee,
Was brib'd to make the dean agree.
Here all diversions of the place
Are proper in my lady's case:
With which she patiently complies,
Merely because her friends advise;
His money and her time employs
In music, raffling-rooms, and toys;
Or in the Cross-bath seeks an heir,
Since others oft have found one there;
Where if the dean by chance appears,
It shames his cassock and his years.
He keeps his distance in the gallery,
Till banish'd by some coxcomb's raillery;
For 'twould his character expose
To bathe among the belles and beaux.
So have I seen, within a pen,
Young ducklings fostered by a hen;
But, when let out, they run and muddle,
As instinct leads them, in a puddle:
The sober hen, not born to swim,
With mournful note clucks round the brim.
The dean, with all his best endeavour,
Gets not an heir, but gets a fever.
A victim to the last essays
Of vigour in declining days,
He dies, and leaves his mourning mate
(What could he less?) his whole estate.
The widow goes through all her forms:
New lovers now will come in swarms.
O, may I see her soon dispensing
Her favours to some broken ensign!
Him let her marry, for his face,
And only coat of tarnish'd lace;
To turn her naked out of doors,
And spend her jointure on his whores ;-
But, for a parting present, leave her
A rooted pox to last for ever!
THE TRUE ENGLISH DEAN, &c.
637
AN EXCELLENT NEW BALLAD;
ÒR, THE TRUE ENGLISH DEANª TO BE HANGED FOR
A RAPE. 1730.
I.
OUR brethren of England, who love us so dear,
And in all they do for us so kindly do mean,
(A blessing upon them!) have sent us this year,
For the good of our church, a true English dean.
A holier priest ne'er was wrapp'd up in crape;
The worst you can say, he committed a rape.
II.
;
In his journey to Dublin he lighted at Chester,
And there he grew fond of another man's wife
Burst into her chamber and would have caress'd her;
But she valued her honour much more than her life.
She bustled, and struggled, and made her escape
To a room full of guests, for fear of a rape.
III.
The dean he pursued to recover his game;
And now to attack her again he prepares:
But the company stood in defence of the dame,
They cudgell'd, and cuff'd him, and kick'd him
down stairs.
His deanship was now in a damnable scrape,
And this was no time for committing a rape.
IV.
To Dublin he comes, to the bagnio he goes,
And orders the landlord to bring him a whore;
No scruple came on him his gown to expose,
'Twas what all his life he had practised before.
He had made himself drunk with the juice of the
grape,
And got a good clap, but committed no rape.
V.
The dean and his landlord, a jolly comrade,
Resolved for a fortnight to swim in delight;
For why, they had both been brought up to the trade
Of drinking all day, and of whoring all night.
His landlord was ready his deanship to ape
In every debauch but committing a rape.
VI.
This protestant zealot, this English divine,
In church and in state was of principles sound;
Was truer than Steele to the Hanover line,
And grieved that a Tory should live above ground.
Shall a subject so loyal be hang'd by the nape
For no other crime but committing a rape?
VII.
By old Popish canons, as wise men have penn'd 'em,
Each priest had a concubine, jure ecclesiæ;
Who'd be dean of Fernes without a commendam?
And precedents we can produce, if it please ye:
Then why should the dean, when whores are so cheap,
Be put to the peril and toil of a rape?
VIII.
If fortune should please but to take such a crotchet
(To thee I apply, great Smedley's successor)
To give thee lawn sleeves, a mitre and rochet, [er.
Whom would'st thou resemble? I leave thee a guess-
But I only behold thee in Atherton's shape,
For sodomy hang'd as thou for a rape.
a "Dublin, June 6. The rev. dean Sawbridge, having sur-
rendered himself on his indictment for a rape, was arraigned
at the bar of the court of king's bench, and is to be tried next
Monday."-London Evening Post, June 16. 1730.
b A bishop of Waterford, sent from England an hundred
years ago, who was hanged at Arbor-hill, neor Dublin.
IX.
Ah! dost thou not envy the brave colonel Chartres,
Condemn'd for thy crime at threescore and ten?
To hang him all England would lend him their garters,
Yet he lives, and is ready to ravish again.ª
Then throttle thyself with an ell of strong tape,
For thou hast not a groat to atone for a rape.
X.
The dean he was vex'd that his whores were so willing,
He long'd for a girl that would struggle and squall;
He ravish'd her fairly, and saved a good shilling;
But here was to pay the devil and all.
His trouble and sorrows now come in a heap,
And hang'd he must be for committing a rape.
XI.
If maidens are ravish'd, it is their own choice:
Why are they so wilful to struggle with men?
If they would but lie quiet, and stifle their voice,
No devil nor dean could ravish them then.
Nor would there be need of a strong hempen cape
Tied round the dean's neck for committing a rape.
XII.
Our church and our state dear England maintains,
For which all true protestant hearts should be glad:
She sends us our bishops, our judges, and deans,
And better would give us if better she had.
But lord! how the rabble will stare and will gape,
When the good English dean is hang'd up for a rape.
ON STEPHEN DUCK,
THE THRESHER AND FAVOURITE POET.
A quibbling Epigram. 1730.
THE thresher Duck could o'er the queen prevail,
The proverb says, "no fence against a flail."
From threshing corn he turns to thresh his brains;
For which her majesty allows him grains :
Though 'tis confess'd that those who ever saw
His poems think them all not worth a straw!
Thrice happy Duck, employ'd in threshing stubble,
Thy toil is lessen'd and thy profits double.
THE LADY'S DRESSING-ROOM.b
1730.
FIVE hours (and who can do it less in ?)
By haughty Celia spent in dressing,
The goddess from her chamber issues,
Array'd in lace, brocades, and tissues.
Strephon, who found the room was void,
And Betty otherwise employ'd,
Stole in and took a strict survey
Of all the litter as it lay:
Whereof, to make the matter clear,
An inventory follows here.
And first, a dirty smock appear'd,
Beneath the armpits well besmear'd;
Strephon, the rogue, display'd it wide,
And turn'd it round on every side:
On such a point few words are best,
And Strephon bids us guess the rest;
But swears ho wdamnably the men lie
In calling Celia sweet and cleanly.
Now listen, while he next produces
The various combs for various uses;
Fill'd up with dirt so closely fix'd,
No brush could force a way betwixt ;
A paste of composition rare,
Sweat, dandriff, powder, lead, and hair:
This trial took place in 1723; but being only found guilty
of an assault, with intent to commit the crime, the worthy
colonel was fined 300/. to the private party prosecuting.
b
A defence of "The Lady's Dressing-room," by some face-
tious friend of our author, is printed in Faulkner's edition.
638
THE LADY'S DRESSING-ROOM, &c.
A forehead cloth with oil upon't,
To smooth the wrinkles on her front:
Here alum-flour, to stop the steams
Exhaled from sour unsavoury streams:
There night-gloves made of Tripsey's hide,
Bequeath'd by Tripsey when she died;
With puppy-water, beauty's help,
Distill'd from Tripsey's darling whelp.
Here gallipots and vials placed,
Some fill'd with washes, some with paste;
Some with pomatums, paints, and slops,
And ointments good for scabby chaps.
Hard by a filthy basin stands,
Foul'd with the scouring of her hands:
The basin takes whatever comes,
The scrapings from her teeth and gums,
A nasty compound of all hues,
For here she spits and here she spews.
But oh! it turn'd poor Strephon's bowels
When he beheld and smelt the towels,
Begumm'd, bematter'd, and beslimed,
With dirt, and sweat, and ear-wax grimed;
No object Strephon's eye escapes;
Her petticoats in frouzy heaps;
Nor be the handkerchiefs forgot,
All varnish'd o'er with snuff and snot.
The stockings why should I expose,
Stain'd with the moisture of her toes,
Or greasy coifs, or pinners reeking,
Which Celia slept at least a week in?
A pair of tweezers next he found,
To pluck her brows in arches round;
Or hairs that sink the forehead low,
Or on her chin like bristles grow.
The virtues we must not let pass
Of Celia's magnifying glass ;
When frighted Strephon cast his eye on't,
It show'd the visage of a giant :
A glass that can to sight disclose
The smallest worm in Celia's nose,
And faithfully direct her nail
To squeeze it out from head to tail;
For, catch it nicely by the head,
It must come out, alive or dead.
Why, Strephon, will you tell the rest?
And must you needs describe the chest?
That careless wench! no creature warn her
To move it out from yonder corner!
But leave it standing full in sight,
For you to exercise your spite?
In vain the workman show'd his wit,
With rings and hinges counterfeit,
To make it seem in this disguise
A cabinet to vulgar eyes:
Which Strephon ventured to look in,
Resolved to go through thick and thin.
He lifts the lid: there needs no more,
He smelt it all the time before.
As, from within Pandora's box,
When Epimetheus oped the locks,
A sudden universal crew
Of human evils upward flew ;
He still was comforted to find
That hope at last remain'd behind:
So Strephon, lifting up the lid,
To view what in the chest was hid,
The vapours flew from out the vent;
But Strephon, cautious, never meant
The bottom of the pan to grope,
And foul his hands in search of hope.
O! ne'er may such a vile machine
Be once in Celia's chamber seen!
she better learn to keep
O! may
Those "secrets of the hoary deep."
As mutton-cutlets, prime of meat,
Which, though with art you salt and beat,
As laws of cookery require,
And roast them at the clearest fire;
If from adown the hopeful chops
The fat upon the cinder drops,
To stinking smoke it turns the flame,
Poisoning the flesh from whence it came,
And up exhales a greasy stench,
For which you curse the careless wench:
So things which must not be express'd,
When plump'd into the reeking chest,
Send up an excremental smell
To taint the parts from whence they fell:
The petticoats and gown perfume,
And waft a stink round every room.
Thus finishing his grand survey,
Disgusted Strephon stole away;
Repeating in his amorous fits,
"Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia sh—!”’
But Vengeance, goddess never sleeping,
Soon punish'd Strephon for his peeping:
His foul imagination links
Each dame he sees with all her stinks;
And, if unsavoury odours fly,
Conceives a lady standing by.
All women his description fits,
And both ideas jump like wits;
By vicious fancy coupled fast,
And still appearing in contrast.
I pity wretched Strephon, blind
To all the charms of womankind.
Should I the queen of love refuse
Because she rose from stinking ooze?
To him that looks behind the scene,
Statira's but some pocky quean.
When Celia all her glory shows,
If Strephon would but stop his nose,
(Who now so impiously blasphemes
Her ointments, daubs, and paints, and creams,
Her washes, slops, and every clout,
With which he makes so foul a rout,)
He soon will learn to think like me,
And bless his ravish'd eyes to see
Such order from confusion sprung,
Such gaudy tulips raised from dung.
THE POWER OF TIME.
1730.
Ir neither brass nor marble can withstand
The mortal force of Time's destructive hand;
If mountains sink to vales, if cities die,
And lessening rivers mourn their fountains dry:
When my old cassock (said a Welsh divine)
Is out at elbows, why should I repine?
CASSINUS AND PETER.
A TRAGICAL ELEGY.
1731.
Two college sophs of Cambridge growth,
Both special wits, and lovers both,
Conferring, as they used to meet,
On love, and books, and rapture sweet;
Muse, find me names to fit my metre,
Cassinus this, and t'other Peter.)
Friend Peter to Cassinus goes,
To chat a while and warm his nose:
But such a sight was never seen,
The lad lay swallow'd up in spleen.
He seem'd as just crept out of bed;
One greasy stocking round his head,
The other he sat down to darn
With threads of different colour'd yarn;
CASSINUS AND PETER-ON A BEAUTIFUL NYMPH.
639
His breeches torn, exposing wide
A ragged shirt and tawny hide.
Scorch'd were his shins, his legs were bare,
But well embrown'd with dirt and hair.
A rug was o'er his shoulders thrown,
(A rug, for night-gown he had none,)
His jordan stood in manner fitting
Between his legs to spew or spit in ;
His ancient pipe, in sable dyed,
And half unsmoked, lay by his side.
Him thus accoutred Peter found,
With eyes in smoke and weeping drown'd;
The leavings of his last night's pot
On embers placed, to drink it hot.
Why, Cassy, thou wilt dose thy pate:
What makes thee lie a-bed so late?
The finch, the linnet, and the thrush,
Their matins chant in every bush;
And I have heard thee oft salute
Aurora with thy early flute.
Heaven send thou hast not got the hyps!
How! not a word come from thy lips?
Then gave him some familiar thumps.
A college joke to cure the dumps,
The swain at last, with grief oppress'd,
Cried, Celia! thrice, and sigh'd the rest.
Dear Cassy, though to ask I dread,
Yet ask I must-is Celia dead?
How happy I, were that the worst!
But I was fated to be curs'd?
Come, tell us, has she play'd the whore?
O Peter, would it were no more!
Why, plague confound her sandy locks!
Say, has the small or greater pox
Sunk down her nose, or seam'd her face?
Be easy, 'tis a common case.
O Peter! beauty's but a varnish,
Which time and accidents will tarnish:
But Celia has contrived to blast
Those beauties that might ever last.
Nor can imagination guess,
Nor eloquence divine express,
How that ungrateful charming maid
My purest passion has betray'd:
Conceive the most envenom'd dart
To pierce an injured lover's heart.
Why, hang her; though she seem'd so coy,
I know she loves the barber's boy.
Friend Peter, this I could excuse,
For every nymph has leave to choose;
Nor have I reason to complain,
She loves a more deserving swain.
But, oh! how ill hast thou divined
A crime, that shocks all human kind ;
A deed unknown to female race,
At which the sun should hide his face :
Advice in vain you would apply-
Then leave me to despair and die.
Ye kind Arcadians, on my urn
These elegies and sonnets burn!
And on the marble grave these rhymes,
A monument to after-times:-
"Here Cassy lies, by Celia slain,
And dying, never told his pain."
:
Vain, empty world, farewell. But hark,
The loud Cerberian triple bark :
And there-behold Alecto stand.
A whip of scorpions in her hand
Lo, Charon from his leaky wherry
Beckoning to waft me o'er the ferry:
I come! I come! Medusa see,
Her serpents hiss direct at me.
Begone; unhand me, hellish fry:
"Avaunt--ye cannot say 'tis I."
Dear Cassy, thou must purge and bleed;
I fear thou wilt be mad indeed.
But now, by friendship's sacred laws,
I here conjure thee tell the cause;
And Celia's horrid fact relate;
Thy friend would gladly share thy fate.
To force it out my heart must rend;
Yet when conjured by such a friend-
Think, Peter, how my soul is rack'd!
These eyes, these eyes, beheld the fact.
Now bend thine ear, since out it must;
But, when thou seest me laid in dust,
The secret thou shalt ne'er impart,
Not to the nymph that keeps thy heart;
(How would her virgin soul bemoan
A crime to all her sex unknown!)
Nor whisper to the tattling reeds
The blackest of all female deeds;
Nor blab it on the lonely rocks,
Where Echo sits, and listening mocks;
Nor let the Zephyr's treacherous gale
Through Cambridge waft the direful tale ;
Nor to the chattering feather'd race
Discover Celia's foul disgrace.
But, if you fail, my spectre dread,
Attending nightly round your bed-
And yet I dare confide in you;
So take my secret, and adieu:
Nor wonder how I lost my wits:
Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia sh-!
A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG NYMPH GOING
TO BED.
Written for the honour of the fair sex.
CORINNA, pride of Drury-lane,
For whom no shepherd sighs in vain ;
Never did Covent-garden boast
So bright a batter'd strolling toast!
No drunken rake to pick her up,
No cellar where on tick to sup;
Returning at the midnight hour,
Four stories climbing to her bower;
Then, seated on a three-legg'd chair,
Takes off her artificial hair;
Now picking out a crystal eye,
She wipes it clean, and lays it by.
Her eye-brows from a mouse's hide
Stuck on with art on either side,
Pulls off with care, and first displays 'em,
Then in a play-book smoothly lays 'em,
Now dext'rously her plumpers draws,
That serve to fill her hollow jaws,
Untwists a wire, and from her gums
A set of teeth completely comes;
Pulls out the rags contrived to prop
Her flabby dugs, and down they drop.
Proceeding on, the lovely goddess
Unlaces next her steel-ribb'd bodice,
Which, by the operator's skill,
Press down the lumps, the hollows fill.
Up goes her hand, and off she slips
The bolsters that supply her hips;
With gentlest touch she next explores
Her chancres, issues, running sores;
Effects of many a sad disaster,
And then to each applies a plaster:
But must, before she goes to bed,
Rub off the daubs of white and red,
And smoothe the furrows in her front
With greasy paper stuck upon't.
She takes a bolus ere she sleeps;
And then between two blankets creeps.
With pains of love tormented lies;
Or, if she chance to close her eyes,
640
STREPHON AND CHLOE.
Of Bridewell and the Compter dreams,
And feels the lash, and faintly screams;
Or, by a faithless bully drawn,
At some hedge-tavern lies in pawn;
Or to Jamaica seems transported
Alone, and by no planter courted;
Or, near Fleet-ditch's oozy brinks,
Surrounded with a hundred stinks,
Belated, seems on watch to lie,
And snap some cully passing by;
Or, struck with fear, her fancy runs
On watchmen, constables, and duns,
From whom she meets with frequent rubs;
But never from religious clubs;
Whose favour she is sure to find,
Because she pays them all in kind.
Corinna wakes. A dreadful sight!
Behold the ruins of the night!
A wicked rat her plaster stole,
Half eat, and dragg'd it to his hole.
The crystal eye, alas! was miss'd;
And puss had on her plumpers p―ss'd.
A pigeon pick'd her issue-peas:
And Shock her tresses fill'd with fleas.
The nymph, though in this mangled plight,
Must every morn her limbs unite.
But how shall I describe her arts
To re-collect the scattered parts?
Or show the anguish, toil, and pain,
Of gathering up herself again?
The bashful Muse will never bear
In such a scene to interfere.
Corinna, in the morning dizen'd,
Who sees, will spew; who smells, be poison d.
STREPHON AND CHLOE.
1731.
Or Chloe all the town has rung,
By every size of poets sung:
So beautiful a nymph appears
But once in twenty thousand years;
By Nature form'd with nicest care,
And faultless to a single hair.
Her gracful mien, her shape, and face,
Confess'd her of no mortal race:
And then so nice, and so genteel;
Such cleanliness from head to heel;
No humours gross, or frouzy steams,
No noisome whiffs, or sweaty streams,
Before, behind, above, below,
Could from her taintless body flow:
Would so discreetly things dispose,
None ever saw her pluck a rose.
Her dearest comrades never caught her
Squat on her hams to make maid's water :
You'd swear that so divine a creature
Felt no necessities of nature.
In summer had she walk'd the town,
Her armpits would not stain her gown :
At country dances not a nose
Could in the dog-days smell her toes.
Her milk-white hands, both palms and backs,
Like ivory dry, and soft as wax.
Her hands, the softest ever felt,
Though cold would burn, though dry would melt.
Dear Venus, hide this wondrous maid,
Nor let her loose to spoil your trade.
While she engrosses every swain,
You but o'er half the world can reign.
Think what a case all men are now in,
What ogling, sighing, toasting, vowing!
What powder'd wigs! what flames and darts!
What hampers full of bleeding hearts!
What sword-knots! what poetic strains!
What billets-doux, and clouded canes!
But Strephon sigh'd so loud and strong,
He blew a settlement along;
And bravely drove his rivals down,
With coach-and-six and house in town.
The bashful nymph no more withstands,
Because her dear papa commands.
The charming couple now unites:
Proceed we to the marriage rites.
Imprimis, at the temple porch
Stood Hymen with a flaming torch :
The smiling Cyprian goddess brings
Her infant loves with purple wings:
And pigeons billing, sparrows treading,
Fair emblems of a fruitful wedding.
The Muses next in order follow,
Conducted by their squire, Apollo:
Then Mercury with silver tongue,
And Hebe, goddess ever young.
Behold the bridegroom and his bride
Walk hand in hand and side by side;
She by the tender Graces dress'd,
But he, by Mars, in scarlet vest.
The nymph was cover'd with her flammeum,
And Phœbus sung th' epithalamium.
And last, to make the matter sure,
Dame Juno brought a priest demure.
Luna was absent, on pretence
Her time was not till nine months hence.
The rites perform'd, the parson paid,
In state return'd the grand parade;
With loud huzzas from all the boys,
That now the pair must crown their joys.
But still the hardest part remains:
Strephon had long perplex'd his brains,
How with so high a nymph he might
Demean himself the wedding-night :
For as he view'd his person round,
Mere mortal flesh was all he found:
His hand, his neck, his mouth, and feet,
Were duly wash'd to keep them sweet;
With other parts that shall be nameless,
The ladies else might think me shameless.
The weather and his love were hot;
And should he struggle I know what-
Why let it go if I must tell it-
He'll sweat and then the nymph may smell it ;
While she, a goddess died in grain,
Was unsusceptible of stain,
And, Venus-like, her fragrant-skin
Exhaled ambrosia from within.
Can such a deity endure
A mortal human touch impure?
How did the humbled swain detest
His prickly beard and hairy breast!
His nightcap, border'd round with lace,
Could give no softness to his face.
Yet if the goddess could be kind,
What endless raptures must he find!
And goddesses have now and then
Come down to visit mortal men;
To visit and to court them too:
A certain goddess, God knows who,
(As in a book he heard it read,)
Took colonel Peleus to her bed,
But what if he should lose his life
By venturing on his heavenly wife!
(For Strephon could remember well
That once he heard a schoolboy tell
How Semele, of mortal race,
By thunder died in Jove's embrace.)
And what if daring Strephon dies
By lightning shot from Chloe's eyes!
STREPHON AND CHLOE.
641
While these reflections fill'd his head
The bride was put in form to bed:
He follow'd, stripp'd, and in he crept,
But awfully his distance kept.
Now "ponder well, ye parents dear ;"
Forbid your daughters guzzling beer;
And make them every afternoon
Forbear their tea, or drink it soon;
That ere to bed they venture up,
They may discharge it every sup;
If not, they must in evil plight
Be often forced to rise at night.
Keep them to wholesome food confined,
Nor let them taste what causes wind:
'Tis this the sage of Samos means,
Forbidding his disciples beans.
O! think what evils must ensue,
Miss Moll, the jade, will burn it blue;
And when she once has got the art,
She cannot help it for her heart;
But out it flies, even when she meets
Her bridegroom in the wedding-sheets.
Carminative and diuretic
Will damp all passions sympathetic;
And Love such nicety requires,
One blast will put out all his fires.
Since husbands get behind the scene,
The wife should study to be clean,
Nor give the smallest room to guess
The time when wants of nature press;
But after marriage practise more
Decorum than she did before;
To keep her spouse deluded still,
And make him fancy what she will.
In bed we left the married pair;
'Tis time to show how things went there.
Strephon, who had been often told
That fortune still assists the bold,
Resolved to make the first attack;
But Chloe drove him fiercely back.
How could a nymph so chaste as Chloe,
With constitution cold and snowy,
Permit a brutish man to touch her?
Even lambs by instinct fly the butcher.
Resistance on the wedding-night
Is what our maidens claim by right;
And Chloe, 'tis by all agreed,
Was maid in thought, in word, and deed.
Yet some assign a different reason;
That Strephon chose no proper season.
Say, fair ones, must I make a pause,
Or freely tell the secret cause?
Twelve cups of tea (with grief I speak)
Had now constrain'd the nymph to leak.
This point must needs be settled first:
The bride must either void or burst.
Then see the dire effects of peas;
Think what can give the colic ease.
The nymph, oppress'd before, behind,
As ships are toss'd by waves and wind,
Steals out her hand, by nature led,
And brings a vessel into bed;
Fair utensil, as smooth and white
As Chloe's skin, almost as bright.
Strephon, who heard the fuming rill
As from a mossy cliff distil,
Cried out, Ye gods! what sound is this?
Can Chloe, heavenly Chloe,
?
But when he smelt a noisome steam
Which oft attends that lukewarm stream
(Salerno both together joins,
As sov'reign medicines for the loins);
And though contrived, we may suppose,
To slip his ears, yet struck his nose;
VOL. I.
He found her, while the scent increased,
As mortal as himself at least.
But soon, with like occasions press'd,
He boldly sent his hand in quest
(Inspired with courage from his bride)
To reach the pot on t'other side;
And as he fill'd the reeking vase,
Let fly a rouser in her face.
The little Cupids hovering round,
(As pictures prove,) with garlands crown'd,
Abash'd at what they saw and heard
Flew off, nor ever more appear'd.
Adieu to ravishing delights,
High raptures, and romantic flights;
To goddesses so heavenly sweet,
Expiring shepherds at their feet;
To silver meads and shady bowers,
Dress'd up with amaranthine flowers.
How great a change! how quickly made!
They learn to call a spade a spade.
They soon from all constraint are freed
Can see each other do their need.
On box of cedar sits the wife,
And makes it warm for dearest life;
And by the beastly way of thinking,
Find great society in stinking.
Now Strephon daily entertains
His Chloe in the homeliest strains;
And Chloe, more experienced grown,
With interest pays him back his own.
No maid at court is less ashamed,
Howe'er for selling bargains famed,
Than she to name her parts behind,
Or when a-bed to let out wind.
;
Fair Decency, celestial maid!
Descend from heaven to Beauty's aid!
Though Beauty may beget desire,
'Tis thou must fan the lover's fire
For Beauty, like supreme dominion,
Is best supported by Opinion:
If Decency bring no supplies,
Opinion falls and Beauty dies.
To see some radiant nymph appear
In all her glittering birthday gear,
You think some goddess from the sky,
Descended, ready cut and dry:
But ere you sell yourself to laughter,
Consider well what may come after;
For fine ideas vanish fast,
While all the gross and filthy last.
O Strephon, ere that fatal day
When Chloe stole your heart away,
Had you but through a cranny spied
On house of ease your future bride,
In all the postures of her face,
Which nature gives in such a case,
Distortions, groanings, strainings, heavings,
'Twere better you had lick'd her leavings
Than from experience find too late
Your goddess grown a filthy mate.
Your fancy then had always dwelt
On what you saw and what you smelt;
Would still the same ideas give ye,
As when you spied her on the privy
And, spite of Chloe's charms divine,
Your heart had been as whole as mine.
Authorities, both old and recent,
Direct that women must be decent;
And from the spouse each blemish hide,
More than from all the world beside.
Unjustly all our nymphs complain
Their empire holds so short a reign;
Is, after marriage, lost so soon,
It hardly lasts the honeymoon :
2 T
642
APOLLO-THE DAY OF JUDGMENT-&c.
For if they keep not what they caught,
It is entirely their own fault.
They take possession of the crown,
And then throw all their weapons down:
Though, by the politician's scheme,
Whoe'er arrives at power supreme,
Those arts, by which at first they gain it,
They still must practise to maintain it.
What various ways our females take
To pass for wits before a rake!
And in the fruitless search pursue
All other methods but the true!
Some try to learn polite behaviour
By reading books against their Saviour;
Some call it witty to reflect
On every natural defect;
Some show they never want explaining
To comprehend a double meaning.
But sure a telltale out of school
Is of all wits the greatest fool;
Whose rank imagination fills
Her heart, and from her lips distils;
You'd think she utter'd from behind,
Or at her mouth was breaking wind.
Why is a handsome wife adored
By every coxcomb but her lord?
From yonder puppet-man inquire,
Who wisely hides his wood and wire;
Shows Sheba's queen completely dress'd,
And Solomon in royal vest:
But view them litter'd on the floor,
Or strung on pegs behind the door;
Punch is exactly of a piece
With Lorrain's duke, and prince of Greece.
A prudent builder should forecast
How long the stuff is like to last
;
And carefully observe the ground,
To build on some foundation sound.
What house, when its materials crumble,
Must not inevitably tumble?
What edifice can long endure
Raised on a basis unsecure?
Rash mortals, ere you take a wife,
Contrive your pile to last for life :
Since beauty scarce endures a day,
And youth so swiftly glides away;
Why will you make yourself a bubble,
To build on sand with hay and stubble?
On sense and wit your passion found,
By decency cemented round;
Let prudence with good-nature strive
To keep esteem and love alive.
Then come old age whene'er it will,
Your friendship shall continue still;
And thus a mutual gentle fire
Shall never but with life expire.
APOLLO ;
OR, A PROBLEM SOLlved.
1731.
APOLLO, god of light and wit,
Could verse inspire, but seldom writ;
Refined all metals with his looks,
As well as chemists by their books;
As handsome as my lady's page;
Sweet five-and-twenty was his age.
His wig was made of sunny rays,
He crown'd his youthful head with bays;
Not all the court of Heaven could show
So nice and so complete a beau.
No heir upon his first appearance,
With twenty thousand pounds a-year rents,
E'er drove, before he sold his land,
So fine a coach along the Strand;
The spokes, we are by Ovid told,
Were silver, and the axle gold:
I own 'twas but a coach-and-four,
For Jupiter allows no more.
Yet, with his beauty, wealth, and parts,
Enough to win ten thousand hearts,
No vulgar deity above
Was so unfortunate in love.
Three weighty causes were assign'd
That moved the nymphs to be unkind.
Nine Muses always waiting round him,
He left them virgins as he found them.
His singing was another fault,
For he could reach to B in alt
And by the sentiments of Pliny,
Such singers are like Nicolini.
At last the point was fully clear'd;
In short, Apollo had no beard.
THE PLACE OF THE DAMNED. 1731.
ALL folks who pretend to religion and grace
Allow there's a HELL, but dispute of the place:
But if HELL may by logical rules be defined
The place of the damn'd-I'll tell you my mind.
Wherever the damn'd do chiefly abound,
Most certainly there is HELL to be found:
Damn'd poets, damn'd critics, damn'd blockheads,
damn'd knaves,
Damn'd senators bribed, damn'd prostitute slaves;
Damn'd lawyers and judges, damn'd lords and damn'd
squires;
Damn'd spies and informers, damn'd friends and
damn'd liars;
Damn'd villains, corrupted in every station;
Damn'd time-serving priests all over the nation;
And into the bargain I'll readily give you
Damn'd ignorant prelates, and counsellors privy.
Then let us no longer by parsons be flamm'd,
For we know by these marks the place of the damn'd:
And HELL to be sure is at Paris or Rome.
How happy for us that it is not at home!
THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.a
WITH a whirl of thought oppress'd,
I sunk from reverie to rest.
A horrid vision seized my head,
I saw the graves give up their dead!
Jove, arm'd with terrors, bursts the skies,
And thunder roars and lightning flies!
Amazed, confused, its fate unknown,
The world stands trembling at his throne!
While each pale sinner hung his head,
Jove, nodding, shook the heavens, and said,
"Offending race of human kind,
By nature, reason, learning, blind;
You who through frailty stepp'd aside,
And you who never fell from pride;
You who in different sects were shamm'd,
And come to see each other damn'd
(So some folk told you, but they knew
No more of Jove's designs than you);
-The world's mad business now is o'er,
And I resent these pranks no more.
-I to such blockheads set my wit!
I damn such fools!-Go, go, you're bit."
JUDAS. 1731.
Written when the majority of the Irish bishops were medi
tating what Swift considered as encroachments upon the right
of their clergy,
By the just vengeance of incensed skies,
Poor bishop Judas late repenting dies.
This poem was first printed (from the dean's MS.) in a
letter from lord Chesterfield, addressed to Mr. Voltaire.
AN EPISTLE TO MR. GAY.
643
The Jews engaged him with a paltry bribe,
Amounting hardly to a crown a-tribe;
Which though his conscience forced him to restore,
(And parsons tell us, no man can do more,)
Yet, through despair, of God and man accurs'd,
He lost his bishopric, and hang'd or burst.
Those former ages differ'd much from this;
Judas betray'd his master with a kiss:
But some have kiss'd the gospel fifty times,
Whose perjury's the least of all their crimes;
Some who can perjure through a two-inch board,
Yet keep their bishoprics and 'scape the cord :
Like hemp, which, by a skilful spinster drawn
To slender threads, may sometimes pass for lawn.
As ancient Judas by transgression fell,
And burst asunder ere he went to hell;
So could we see a set of new Iscariots
Come headlong tumbling from their mitred chariots;
Each modern Judas perish like the first,
Drop from the tree with all his bowels burst;
Who could forbear, that view'd each guilty face,
"Lo! Judas gone to his own place;
His habitation let all men forsake,
And let his bishopric another take!"
To cry,
AN EPISTLE TO MR. GAY.-1731.
How could you, Gay, disgrace the Muse's train,
To serve a tasteless court twelve years in vain ?↳
Fain would I think our female friend sincere,
Till Bob, the poet's foe, possess'd her ear.
Did female virtue e'er so high ascend
To lose an inch of favour for a friend?
Say, had the court no better place to choose
For thee, than make a dry-nurse of thy muse?
How cheaply had thy liberty been sold,
To squire a royal girl of two years old :
In leading strings her infant steps to guide,
Or with her go-cart amble side by side!
But princely Douglas,e and his glorious dame,
Advanced thy fortune and preserved thy fame.
Nor will your nobler gifts be misapplied
When o'er your patron's treasure you preside:
The world shall own his choice was wise and just,
For sons of Phoebus never break their trust.
Not love of beauty less the heart inflames
Of guardian eunuchs to the sultan's dames,
Their passions not more impotent and cold,
Than those of poets to the lust of gold.
With pean's purest fire his favourites glow,
The dregs will serve to ripen ore below:
His meanest work: for, had he thought it fit
That wealth should be the appanage of wit,
The god of light could ne'er have been so blind
To deal it to the worst of humankind.
But let me now, for I can do it well,
Your conduct in this new employ foretell.
And first to make my observation right,
I place a statesman full before my sight,
A bloated minister in all his gear,
With shameless visage and perfidious leer:
Two rows of teeth arm each devouring jaw,
And ostrich-like his all-digesting maw.
My fancy drags this monster to my view,
To show the world his chief reverse in you.
Of loud unmeaning sounds a rapid flood
Rolls from his mouth in plenteous streams of mud;
With these the court and senate-house he plies,
Made up of noise, and impudence, and lies.
The dean, having been told by an intimate friend that the duke
of Queensberry had employed Mr. Gay to inspect the accounts
and management of his grace's receivers and stewards (which,
however, proved to be a mistake), wrote this epistle to his friend.
See the libel on Dr. Delany and lord Carteret.
• The countess of Suffolk.
* The duke of Queensberry.
d Sir Robert Walpole.
Now let me show how Bob and you agree:
You serve a potent prince as well as he.
The ducal coffers trusted to your charge
Your honest care may fill, perhaps enlarge:
His vassals easy, and the owner blest;
They pay a trifle and enjoy the rest.
Not so a nation's revenues are paid;
The servant's faults are on the master laid.
The people with a sigh their taxes bring,
And, cursing Bob, forget to bless the king.
Next hearken, Gay, to what thy charge requires,
With servants, tenants, and the neighbouring squires.
Let all domestics feel your gentle sway;
Nor bribe, insult, nor flatter, nor betray.
Let due reward to merit be allow'd;
Nor with your kindred half the palace crowd;
Nor think yourself secure in doing wrong,
By telling noses with a party strong.
Be rich; but of your wealth make no parade;
At least, before your master's debts are paid;
Nor in a palace, built with charge immense,
Presume to treat him at his own expense.
Each farmer in the neighbourhood can count
To what your lawful perquisites amount.
The tenants poor, the hardness of the times,
Are ill excuses for a servant's crimes.
With interest, and a premium paid beside,
The master's pressing wants must be supplied;
With hasty zeal behold the steward come
By his own credit to advance the sum;
Who, while th' unrighteous mammon is his friend,
May well conclude his power will never end.
A faithful treasurer! what could he do more?
He lends my lord what was my lord's before.
The law so strictly guards the monarch's health,
That no physician dares prescribe by stealth :
The council sit; approve the doctor's skill;
And give advice before he gives the pill.
But the state empiric acts a safer part;
And, while he poisons, wins the royal heart.
But how can I describe the ravenous breed?
Then let me now by negatives proceed.
Suppose your lord a trusty servant send
On weighty business to some neighbouring friend:
Presume not, Gay, unless you serve a drone,
To countermand his orders by your own.
Should some imperious neighbour sink the boats,
And drain the fish-ponds, while your master dotes;
Shall he upon the ducal rights intrench,
Because he bribed you with a brace of tench?
Nor from your lord his bad condition hide,
To feed his luxury, or sooth his pride.
Nor at an under rate his timber sell,
And with an oath assure him all is well;
Or swear it rotten, and with humble airs.
Request it of him to complete your stairs;
Nor, when a mortgage lies on half his lands,
Come with a purse of guineas in your hands.
Have Peter Waters always in your mind;
That rogue, of genuine ministerial kind,
Can half the peerage by his arts bewitch,
Starve twenty lords to make one scoundrel rich
And, when he gravely has undone a score,
Is humbly pray'd to ruin twenty more.
;
A dext'rous steward, when his tricks are found,
Hush-money sends to all the neighbours round;
His master, unsuspicious of his pranks,
Pays all the cost and gives the villain thanks.
And should a friend attempt to set him right,
His lordship would impute it all to spite;
Would love his favourite better than before,
And trust his honesty just so much more.
Thus families, like realms, with equal fate,
Are sunk by premier ministers of state.
2 T 2
614
TO A LADY.
Some, when an heir succeeds, go boldly on,
And, as they robb'd the father, rob the son.
A knave, who deep embroils his lord's affairs,
Will soon grow necessary to his heirs.
His policy consists in setting traps,
In finding ways and means, and stopping gaps;
He knows a thousand tricks whene'er he please,
Though not to cure, yet palliate each disease.
In either case an equal chance is run;
For, keep or turn him out, my lord's undone.
You want a hand to clear a filthy sink;
No cleanly workman can endure the stink.
A strong dilemma in a desperate case!
To act with infamy, or quit the place.
A bungler thus, who scarce the nail can hit,
With driving wrong will make the pannel split:
Nor dares an abler workman undertake
To drive a second, lest the whole should break.
In every court the parallel will hold ;
And kings, like private folks, are bought and sold.
The ruling rogue, who dreads to be cashier'd,
Contrives, as he is hated, to be fear'd
Confounds accounts, perplexes all affairs:
;
For
vengeance more embroils than skill repairs.
So robbers, (and their ends are just the same,)
To 'scape inquiries, leave the house in flame.
I knew a brazen minister of state, [Walpole]
Who bore for twice ten years the public hate.
In every mouth the question most in vogue
Was, when will they turn out this odious rogue ?
A juncture happen'd in his highest pride :
While he went robbing on, old master died.
We thought there now remain'd no room to doubt;
His work is done, the minister must out.
The court invited more than one or two :
Will you, sir Spencer? or will you, or you?
But not a soul his office durst accept ;
The subtle knave had all the plunder swept :
And, such was then the temper of the times,
He owed his preservation to his crimes.
The candidates observed his dirty paws;
Nor found it difficult to guess the cause:
But, when they smelt such foul corruptions round him,
Away they fled, and left him as they found him.
TO A LADY
WHO DESIRED THE AUTHOR TO WRITE SOME VERSES
UPON HER IN THE HEROIC STYLE.
AFTER venting all my spite,
Tell me, what have I to write?
Every error I could find
Through the mazes of your mind
Have my busy Muse employ'd,
Till the company was cloy'd.
Are you positive and fretful,
Heedless, ignorant, forgetful?
Those, and twenty follies more,
I have often told before.
Hearken what my lady says:
Have I nothing then to praise ?
Ill it fits you to be witty
Where a fault should move your pity.
If you think me too conceited,
Or to passion quickly heated;
If my wandering head be less
Set on reading than on dress;
If I always seem too dull t'ye;
I can solve the difficulty.
You would teach me to be wise
Truth and honour how to prize;
How to shine in conversation,
And with credit fill my station;
How to relish notions high;
How to live, and how to die.
But it was decreed by Fate-
Mr. Dean, you come too late.
Well I know you can discern,
I am now too old to learn:
Follies, from my youth instill'd,
Have my soul entirely fill'd;
In my head and heart they centre,
Nor will let your lessons enter.
Bred a fondling and an heiress;
Dress'd like any lady-mayoress;
Cocker'd by the servants round,
Was too good to touch the ground;
Thought the life of every lady
Should be one continued play-day-
Balls, and masquerades, and shows,
Visits, plays, and powder'd beaux.
Thus you have my case at large,
And may now perform your charge.
Those materials I have furnish'd,
When by you refined and burnish'd,
Must, that all the world may know 'em,
Be reduced into a poem.
But, I beg, suspend a while
That same paltry, burlesque style;
Drop for once your constant rule,
Turning all to ridicule;
Teaching others how to ape you;
Court, nor parliament can 'scape you;
Treat the public and your friends
Both alike, while neither mends.
Sing my praise in strain sublime:
Treat me not with doggrel rhyme.
'Tis but just you should produce,
With each fault, each fault's excuse ;
Not to publish every trifle,
And my few perfections stifle.
With some gifts at least endow me,
Which my very foes allow me.
Am I spiteful, proud, unjust?
Did I ever break my trust?
Which of all our modern dames
Censures less, or less defames?
In good manners am I faulty?
Can you call me rude or haughty?
Did I e'er my mite withhold
From the impotent and old?
When did ever I omit
Due regard for men of wit?
When have I esteem express'd
For a coxcomb gaily dress'd ?
Do I, like the female tribe,
Think it wit to fleer and gibe?
Who with less designing ends
Kindlier entertains her friends ;
With good words and countenance sprightly,
Strives to treat them more politely?
Think not cards my chief diversion;
'Tis a wrong, unjust aspersion:
Never knew I any good in 'em,
But to dose my head like laudanum.
We by play, as men by drinking,
Pass our nights, to drive out thinking.
From my ailments give me leisure,
I shall read and think with pleasure;
Conversation learn to relish,
And with books my mind embellish.
Now, methinks, I hear you cry,
Mr. Dean, you must reply.
Madam, I allow 'tis true :
All these praises are your due.
You, like some acute philosopher,
Every fault have drawn a gloss over;
TO A LADY.
645
Placing in the strongest light
All your virtues to my sight.
Though you lead a blameless life,
Are an humble prudent wife,
Answer all domestic ends:
What is this to us your friends?
Though your children by a nod
Stand in awe without a rod;
Though, by your obliging sway,
Servants love you and obey;
Though you treat us with a smile,
Clear your looks and smooth your style,
Load our plates from every dish;
This is not the thing we wish.
Colonel ***** may be your debtor ;
We expect employment better.
You must learn, if you would gain us,
With good sense to entertain us.
;
Scholars, when good sense describing,
Call it tasting and imbibing;
Metaphoric meat and drink
Is to understand and think
We may carve for others thus;
And let others carve for us
To discourse, and to attend,
Is, to help yourself and friend.
Conversation is but carving;
Carve for all, yourself is starving;
Give no more to every guest
Than he's able to digest;
Give him always of the prime,
And but little at a time.
Carve to all but just enough;
Let them neither starve nor stuff:
And that you may have your due,
Let your neighbours carve for you.
This comparison will hold,
Could it well in rhyme be told,
How conversing, listening, thinking,
Justly may resemble drinking;
For a friend a glass you fill,—
What is this but to instil?
To conclude this long essay;
Pardon if I disobey;
Nor, against my natural vein,
Treat you in heroic strain.
I, as all the parish knows,
Hardly can be grave in prose:
Still to lash, and lashing smile,
Ill befits a lofty style.
From the planet of my birth
I encounter vice with mirth.
Wicked ministers of state
I can easier scorn than hate
And I find it answers right :
Scorn torments them more than spite.
All the vices of a court
Do but serve to make me sport.
Were I in some foreign realm,
Which all vices overwhelm;
Should a monkey wear a crown,
Must I tremble at his frown?
Could I not, through all his ermine,
'Spy the strutting chattering vermin;
Safely write a smart lampoon,
To expose the brisk baboon?
When my Muse officious ventures
On the nation's representers:
Teaching by what golden rules
Into knaves they turn their fools;
How the helm is ruled by Walpole,
At whose oars, like slaves, they all pull;
Let the vessel split on shelves ;
With the freight enrich themselves:
Safe within my little wherry,
All their madness makes me merry :
Like the watermen of Thames,
I row by, and call them names;
Like the ever-laughing sage,
In a jest I spend my rage
(Though it must be understood,
I would hang them if I could):
If I can but fill my niche,
I attempt no higher pitch ;
Leave to d'Anvers and his mate
Maxims wise to rule the state.
Pulteney deep, accomplish'd St. Johns,
Scourge the villains with a vengeance;
Let me, though the smell be noisome,
Strip their bums; let Caleba hoise 'em ;
Then apply Alecto's whip
Till they wriggle, howl, and skip.
Deuce is in you, Mr. Dean :
What can all this passion mean?
Mention courts! you'll ne'er be quiet,
On corruptions running riot.
End as it befits your station;
Come to use and application;
Nor with senates keep a fuss.
I submit; and answer thus:
If the machinations brewing,
To complete the public ruin,
Never once could have the power
To affect me half an hour;
Sooner would I write in buskins,
Mournful elegies on Blueskins."
If I laugh at Whig and Tory,
I conclude, à fortiori,
All your eloquence will scarce
Drive me from my favourite farce.
This I must insist on; for, as
It is well observed by Horace,
Ridicule has greater power
To reform the world than sour.
Horses thus, let jockeys judge else,
Switches better guide than cudgels.
Bastings heavy, dry, obtuse,
Only dulness can produce;
While a little gentle jerking
Sets the spirits all a-working.
Thus, I find it by experiment,
Scolding moves you less than merriment.
I may storm and rage in vain ;
It but stupifies your brain.
But with raillery to nettle,
Sets your thoughts upon their mettle;
Gives imagination scope;
Never lets your mind elope;
Drives out brangling and contention,
Brings in reason and invention.
For your sake as well as mine,
I the lofty style decline.
I should make a figure scurvy,
And your head turn topsy-turvy.
I, who love to have a fling
Both at senate-house and king,
That they might some better way tread
To avoid the public hatred,
Thought no method more commodious
Than to show their vices odious;
Which I chose to make appear,
Not by anger but by sneer.
As my method of reforming
Is by laughing, not by storming,
■ Caleb d'Anvers was the name assumed by Amhurst, the
ostensible writer of the Craftsman.
b The famous thief who while on his trial at the Old Bailey
stabbed Jonathan Wild.
646
EPIGRAMS-VERSES TO SWIFT-&c.
·
For my friends have always thought
Tenderness my greatest fault.)
Would you have me change my style?
On your faults no longer smile;
But, to patch up all our quarrels,
Quote you texts from Plutarch's Morals;
Or from Solomon produce
Maxims teaching Wisdom's use?
If I treat you like a crown'd head,
You have cheap enough compounded;
Can you put in higher claims
Than the owners of St. James?
You are not so great a grievance
As the hirelings of St. Stephen's.
You are of a lower class
Than my friend sir Robert Brass.
None of these have mercy found:
I have laugh'd and lash'd them round.
Have you seen a rocket fly?
You would swear it pierced the sky:
It but reach'd the middle air,
Bursting into pieces there;
Thousand sparkles falling down
Light on many a coxcomb's crown.
See what mirth the sport creates !
Singes hair, but breaks no pates.
Thus should I attempt to climb,
Treat you in a style sublime,
Such a rocket is my Muse:
Should I lofty numbers choose,
Ere I reach'd Parnassus' top,
I should burst; and bursting drop;
All my fire would fall in scraps,
Give your head some gentle raps;
Only make it smart a while;
Then could I forbear to smile,
When I found the tingling pain
Entering warm your frigid brain;
Make you able upon sight
To decide of wrong and right;
Talk with sense whate'er you please on;
Learn to relish truth and reason?
Thus we both shall gain our prize;
I to laugh, and you grow wise.
EPIGRAM
ON THE BUSTS OF NEWTON, LOCKE, CLARKE, AND
WOOLASTON, IN RICHMOND HERMITAGE.
1732.
"Sic siti lætantur docti."
WITH honour thus by Carolina placed,
How are these venerable bustoes graced !
O queen, with more than regal title crown'd,
For love of arts and piety renown'd!
How do the friends of virtue joy to see
Her darling sons exalted thus by thee!
Nought to their fame can now be added more,
Revered by her whom all mankind adore.
ANOTHER.
LEWIS the living learned fed,
And raised the scientific head;
Our frugal queen, to save her meat,
Exalts the heads that cannot eat.
A CONCLUSION DRAWN FROM THE ABOVE EPIGRAMS,
AND SENT TO THE DRAPIER.
SINCE Anna, whose bounty thy merits had fed,
Ere her own was laid low, had exalted thy head;
And since our good queen to the wise is so just,
To raise heads for such as are humbled in dust ;
I wonder, good man, that you are not envaulted;
Prithee go, and be dead, and be doubly exalted.
DR. SWIFT'S ANSWER.
HER majesty never shall be my exalter;
And yet she would raise me, I know, by a halter!
TO THE REVEREND DR. SWIFT,
WITH A PRESENT OF A PAPER BOOK, FINELY BOUND,
ON HIS BIRTHDAY, NOV. 30, 1732.
By John earl of Orrery.
;
To thee, dear Swift, these spotless leaves I send
Small is the present, but sincere the friend.
Think not so poor a book below thy care;
Who knows the price that thou canst make it bear?
Though tawdry now, and like Tyrilla's face,
The specious front shines out with borrow'd grace
Though pasteboards, glittering like a tinsell'd coat,
A rasa tabula within denote :
Yet, if a venal and corrupted age
And modern vices should provoke thy rage;
If, warn'd once more by their impending fate,
A sinking country and an injured state,
Thy great assistance should again demand,
And call forth reason to defend the land
;
Then shall we view these sheets with glad surprise,
Inspired with thought, and speaking to our eyes;
Each vacant space shall then, enrich'd, dispense
True force of eloquence and nervous sense;
Inform the judgment, animate the heart,
And sacred rules of policy impart.
The spangled covering, bright with splendid ore,
Shall cheat the sight with empty show no more;
But lead us inward to those golden mines
Where all thy soul in native lustre shines.
So when the eye surveys some lovely fair,
With bloom of beauty graced, with shape and air;
How is the rapture heighten'd, when we find
Her form excell'd by her celestial mind!
VERSES
LEFT WITH A SILVER STANDISH ON THE DEAN OF
ST. PATRICK'S DESK, ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
By Dr. Delany.
;
HITHER from Mexico I came,
To serve a proud Iernian dame :
Was long submitted to her will;
At length she lost me at quadrille.
Through various shapes I often pass'd,
Still hoping to have rest at last;
And still ambitious to obtain
Admittance to the patriot dean
And sometimes got within his door,
But soon turn'd out to serve the poor a
Not strolling idleness to aid,
But honest industry decay'd.
At length an artist purchased me,
And wrought me to the shape you see.
This done, to Hermes I applied
"O Hermes! gratify my pride;
Be it my fate to serve a sage,
The greatest genius of his age;
That matchless pen let me supply,
Whose living lines will never die!"
"I grant your suit," the god replied,
And here he left me to reside.
VERSES
OCCASIONED BY THE FOREGOING PRESENTS.
A PAPER BOOK is sent by Boyle,
Too neatly gilt for me to soil.
Delany sends a silver standish,
When I no more a pen can brandish.
a Alluding to five hundred pounds lent by the dean, without
interest, to poor tradesmen.
THE BEASTS' CONFESSION, &c.
647
Let both around my tomb be placed,
As trophies of a Muse deceased;
And let the friendly lines they writ,
In praise of long departed wit,
Be graved on either side in columns,
More to my praise than all my volumes,
To burst with envy, spite, and rage,
The Vandals of the present age.
VERSES
SENT TO THE DEAN WITH AN EAGLE-QUILL,
On hearing of the presents by the earl of Orrery and Dr. Delany.
By Mrs. Pilkington.a
SHALL then my kindred all my glory claim,
And boldly rob me of eternal fame?
To ev'ry art my gen'rous aid I lend,
To music, painting, poetry, a friend.
'Tis I celestial harmony inspire,
When fix'd to strike the sweetly warbling wire.b
I to the faithful canvass have consign'd
Each bright idea of the painter's mind;
Behold from Raphael's sky-dipp'd pencils rise
Such heavenly scenes as charm the gazer's eyes.
O let me now aspire to higher praise!
Ambitious to transcribe your deathless lays :
Nor thou, immortal bard, my aid refuse,
Accept me as the servant of your Muse;
Then shall the world my wondrous worth declare,
And all mankind your matchless pen revere.
AN INVITATION, BY DR. DELANY,
IN THE NAME OF dr. swIFT.
MIGHTY Thomas,c a solemn senatus d I call,
To consult for Sapphira ;e so come one and all;
Quit books and quit business, your cure and your care,
For a long winding walk and a short bill of fare.
I've mutton for you, sir; and as for the ladies,
As friend Virgil has it, I've aliud mercedis;
For Letty, one filbert, whereon to regale,
f
And a peach for pale Constances to make a full meal;
And for your cruel part,h who take pleasure in blood,
I have that of the grape, which is ten times as good:
Flow wit to her honour, flow wine to her health:
High raised be her worth above titles or wealth.
THEBEASTS' CONFESSION TO THEPRIEST,
On observing how most men mistake their own talents. 1732.
PREFACE.
I HAVE been long of opinion that there is not a more
general and greater mistake, or of worse conse-
quences through the commerce of mankind, than
the wrong judgments they are apt to entertain of
their own talents. I knew a stuttering alderman in
London, a great frequenter of coffeehouses, who,
when a fresh newspaper was brought in, constantly
seized it first, and read it aloud to his brother-citi-
zens, but in a manner as little intelligible to the
standers-by as to himself. How many pretenders to
learning expose themselves by choosing to discourse
on those very parts of science wherewith they are
least acquainted! It is the same case in every other
qualification. By the multitude of those who deal
a See a letter to Mrs. Pilkington, Jan. 1, 1732-3.
↳ Quills of the harpsichord.
From their diminutive size, the dean used to call Mr. Pil-
kington "Tom Thumb," and his wife "his lady fair."
d To correct Mrs. Barber's poems; which were published at
London, in 4to, by subscription.
The name by which Mrs. Barber was distinguished by her
friends.
f Mrs. Pilkington.
5 Mrs. Constantia Grierson, a very learned young lady.
¹ Mrs. Van Lewen (Mrs. Pilkington's mother), who used to
argue with Dr. Swift about his declamation against eating
blood.
in rhymes, from half a sheet to twenty, which come
out every minute, there must be at least 500 poets
in the city and suburbs of London; half as many
coffeehouse orators, exclusive of the clergy; 40,000
politicians, and 4500 profound scholars; not to
mention the wits, the railers, the smart fellows, and
critics; all as illiterate and impudent as a suburb
whore. What are we to think of the fine-dressed
sparks, proud of their own personal deformities,
which appear the more hideous by the contrast of
wearing scarlet and gold, with what they call tou-
peesa on their heads, and all the frippery of a mo-
dern beau to make a figure before women; some of
them with hump-backs, others hardly five feet high,
and every feature of their faces distorted? I have
seen many of these insipid pretenders entering into
conversation with persons of learning, constantly
making the grossest blunders in every sentence,
without conveying one single idea fit for a rational
creature to spend a thought on; perpetually con-
founding all chronology and geography, even of pre-
sent times. I compute that London hath eleven
native fools of the beau and puppy kind for one
among us in Dublin; besides two-thirds of ours
transplanted thither, who are now naturalised;
whereby that overgrown capital exceeds ours in the
articles of dunces by forty to one; and what is more,
to our further mortification, there is no one distin-
guished fool of Irish birth or education who makes
any noise in that famous metropolis, unless the
London prints be very partial or defective; whereas
London is seldom without a dozen of their own
educating, who engross the vogue for half a winter
together, and are never heard of more, but give
place to a new set. This has been the constant
progress for at least thirty years past, only allowing
for the change of breed and fashion.
The poem is grounded upon the universal folly in
mankind of mistaking their talents; by which the
author does a great honour to his own species, al-
most equalling them with certain brutes, wherein,
indeed, he is too partial, as he freely confesses; and
yet he has gone as low as he well could, by specify-
ing four animals-the wolf, the ass, the swine, and
the ape-all equally mischievous, except the last,
who outdoes them in the article of cunning; so great
is the pride of man!
WHEN beasts could speak, (the learned say
They still can do so every day,)
It seems they had religion then,
As much as now we find in men.
It happen'd when a plague broke out,
(Which therefore made them more devout,)
The king of brutes (to make it plain,
Of quadrupeds I only mean)
By proclamation gave command
That every subject in the land
Should to the priest confess their sins;
And thus the pious Wolf begins:
Good father, I must own with shame,
That often I have been to blame:
I must confess, on Friday last,
Wretch that I was! I broke my fast:
But I defy the basest tongue
To prove I did my neighbour wrong;
Or ever went to seek my food,
By rapine, theft, or thirst of blood.
The Ass, approaching next, confess'd
That in his heart he loved a jest:
A wag he was, he needs must own,
And could not let a dunce alone :
a Wigs with long black tails, at that time very much in
fashion.
648
THE BEASTS' CONFESSION.
Sometimes his friend he would not spare,
And might perhaps be too severe :
But yet the worst that could be said,
He was a wit both born and bred;
And if it be a sin and shame,
Nature alone must bear the blame :
One fault he has, is sorry for't,
His ears are half a foot too short,
Which could he to the standard bring,
He'd show his face before the king:
Then for his voice, there's none disputes
That he's the nightingale of brutes.
The Swine with contrite heart allow'd
His shape and beauty made him proud:
In diet was perhaps too nice,
But gluttony was ne'er his vice :
In every turn of life content,
And meekly took what fortune sent:
Inquire through all the parish round,
A better neighbour ne'er was found;
His vigilance might some displease;
'Tis true, he hated sloth like peas.
The mimic Ape began his chatter,
How evil tongues his life bespatter;
Much of the censuring world complain'd,
Who said his gravity was feign'd :
Indeed, the strictness of his morals
Engaged him in a hundred quarrels :
He saw, and he was griev'd to see't,
His zeal was sometimes indiscreet:
He found his virtues too severe
For our corrupted times to bear;
Yet such a lewd licentious age
Might well excuse a stoic's rage.
The Goat advanced with decent pace,
And first excused his youthful face;
Forgiveness begg'd that he appear'd
('Twas Nature's fault) without a beard.
'Tis true, he was not much inclined
To fondness for the female kind :
Not, as his enemies object,
From chance or natural defect
Not by his frigid constitution,
But through a pious resolution;
For he had made a holy vow
Of chastity, as monks do now;
Which he resolved to keep for ever hence,
And strictly too, as doth his reverence.ª
Apply the tale, and you shall find,
How just it suits with humankind.
Some faults we own: but can you guess?
-Why, virtue's carried to excess,
Wherewith our vanity endows us,
Though neither foe nor friend allows us.
The Lawyer swears (you may rely on't)
He never squeezed a needy client;
And this he makes his constant rule,
For which his brethren call him fool;
Hie conscience always was so nice,
He freely gave the poor advice,
By which he lost, he may affirm,
A hundred fees last Easter term;
While others of the learned robe,
Would break the patience of a Job.
No pleader at the bar could match
His diligence and quick despatch;
Ne'er kept a cause, he well may boast,
Above a term or two at most.
The cringing knave, who seeks a place
Without success, thus tells his case:
Why should he longer mince the matter?
He fail'd because he could not flatter;
The priest his confessor
He had not learn'd to turn his coat,
Nor for a party give his vote :
His crime he quickly understood,
Too zealous for the nation's good;
He found the ministers resent it,
Yet could not for his heart repent it.
The Chaplain vows he cannot fawn,
Though it would raise him to the lawn
He pass'd his hours among his books;
You find it in his meagre looks:
He might, if he were worldly wise,
Preferment get, and spare his eyes;
But owns he had a stubborn spirit,
That made him trust alone to merit;
Would rise by merit to promotion;
Alas! a mere chimeric notion.
The Doctor, if you will believe him,
Confess'd a sin (and God forgive him!);
Call'd up at midnight, ran to save
A blind old beggar from the grave:
But see how Satan spreads his snares!
He quite forgot to say his prayers.
He cannot help it for his heart
Sometimes to act the parson's part:
Quotes from the Bible many a sentence,
That moves his patients to repentance;
And, when his medicines do no good,
Supports their minds with heavenly food:
At which, however well intended,
He hears the clergy are offended;
And grown so bold behind his back,
To call him hypocrite and quack.
In his own church he keeps a seat;
Says grace before and after meat;
And calls, without affecting airs,
His household twice a-day to prayers.
He shuns apothecaries' shops,
And hates to cram the sick with slops:
He scorns to make his art a trade,
Nor bribes my lady's favourite maid.
Old nurse-keepers would never hire
To recommend him to the squire ;
Which others, whom he will not name,
Have often practised to their shame.
}
The Statesman tells you, with a sneer,
His fault is to be too sincere ;
And, having no sinister ends,
Is apt to disoblige his friends.
The nation's good, his master's glory,
Without regard to Whig or Tory,
Were all the schemes he had in view,
Yet he was seconded by few:
Though some had spread a thousand lies,
"Twas he defeated the excise.
'Twas known, though he had borne aspersion,
That standing troops were his aversion:
His practice was, in every station,
To serve the king and please the nation.
Though hard to find in every case
The fittest man to fill a place :
His promises he ne'er forgot,
But took memorials on the spot;
His enemies, for want of charity,
Said he affected popularity:
"Tis true the people understood
That all he did was for their good ;
Their kind affections he has tried;
No love is lost on either side.
He came to court with fortune clear,
Which now he runs out every year;
Must, at the rate that he goes on,
Inevitably be undone :
O! if his majesty would please
To give him but a writ of ease,
THE PARSON'S CASE-A LOVE-SONG, &c.
649
Would grant him licence to retire,
As it has long been his desire,
By fair accounts it would be found,
He's poorer by ten thousand pound.
He owns, and hopes it is no sin,
He ne'er was partial to his kin;
He thought it base for men in stations
To crowd the court with their relations:
His country was his dearest mother,
And every virtuous man his brother;
Through modesty or awkward shame
(For which he owns himself to blame),
He found the wisest man he could,
Without respect to friends or blood;
Nor ever acts on private views
When he has liberty to choose.
The Sharper swore he hated play,
Except to pass an hour away :
And well he might; for, to his cost,
By want of skill he always lost
He heard there was a club of cheats,
Who had contrived a thousand feats;
Could change the stock, or cog a die,
And thus deceive the sharpest eye:
Nor wonder how his fortune sunk,
His brothers fleece him when he's drunk.
I own the moral not exact,
Besides, the tale is false in fact
And so absurd that could I raise up,
From fields Elysian, fabling Æsop,
I would accuse him to his face
For libelling the four-foot race.
Creatures of every kind but ours
Well comprehend their natural powers,
While we, whom reason ought to sway,
Mistake our talents every day.
The Ass was never known so stupid
To act the part of Tray or Cupid;
Nor leaps upon his master's lap
There to be stroked and fed with pap,
As Asop would the world persuade;
He better understands his trade :
Nor comes whene'er his lady whistles,
But carries loads, and feeds on thistles.
Our author's meaning, I presume, is
A creature bipes et implumis;
Wherein the moralist design'd
A compliment on humankind;
For here he owns that now and then
Beasts may degenerate into men.
THE PARSON'S CASE.
THAT you, friend Marcus, like a stoic,
Can wish to die in strains heroic,
No real fortitude implies:
Yet all must own thy wish is wise.
Thy curate's place, thy fruitful wife,
Thy busy, drudging scene of life,
Thy insolent illiterate vicar,
Thy want of all-consoling liquor,
Thy threadbare gown, thy cassock rent,
Thy credit sunk, thy money spent,
Thy week made up of fasting-days,
Thy grate unconscious of a blaze,
And to complete thy other curses,
The quarterly demands of nurses,
Are ills you wisely wish to leave,
And fly for refuge to the grave :
And, 0, what virtue you express,
In wishing such afflictions less!
But now should Fortune shift the scene,
And make thy curateship a dean;
Or some rich benefice provide,
To pamper luxury and pride;
With labour small, and income great;
With chariot less for use than state;
With swelling scarf, and glossy gown,
And licence to reside in town;
To shine where all the gay resort,
At concerts, coffeehouse, or court;
And weekly persecute his grace
With visits, or to beg a place ;
With underlings thy flock to teach,
With no desire to pray or preach ;
With haughty spouse in vesture fine,
With plenteous meals and generous wine
Would'st thou not wish, in so much ease,
Thy years as numerous as thy days?
THE HARDSHIP UPON THE LADIES.
1733.
Poor ladies! though their business be to play,
'Tis hard they must be busy night and day:
Why should they want the privilege of men,
Nor take some small diversions now and then?
Had women been the makers of our laws,
(And why they were not I can see no cause,)
The men should slave at cards from morn to night;
And female pleasures be to read and write.
A LOVE-SONG
IN THE MODERN TASTE. 1733.
I.
FLUTTERING spread thy purple pinions,
Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart;
I a slave in thy dominions;
Nature must give way to art.
II.
Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks,
See my weary days consuming
All beneath yon flowery rocks.
III.
Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping
Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth;
Him the boar, in silence creeping,
Gored with unrelenting tooth.
IV.
Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers;
Fair Discretion, string the lyre;
Sooth my ever-waking slumbers:
Bright Apollo, lend thy choir.
V.
Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors,
Arm'd in adamantine chains,
Lead me to the crystal mirrors
Watering soft Elysian plains
VI.
Mournful cypress, verdant willow,
Gilding my Aurelia's brows,
Morpheus, hovering o'er my pillow,
Hear me pay my dying vows.
VII.
Melancholy smooth Meander,
Swiftly purling in a round,
On thy margin lovers wander,
With thy flow'ry chaplets crown'd.
VIII.
Thus when Philomela drooping
Softly seeks her silent mate,
See the bird of Juno stooping;
Melody resigns to fate.
650
THE STORM-ODE ON SCIENCE.
THE STORM.
MINERVA'S PETITION.
PALLAS, a goddess chaste and wise,
Descending lately from the skies,
To Neptune went, and begg'd in form
He'd give his orders for a storm;
A storm to drown that rascal Horte,
And she would kindly thank him for't:
A wretch! whom English rogues, to spite her,
Had lately honour'd with a mitre.
The god, who favour'd her request,
Assured her he would do his best:
But Venus had been there before,
Pleaded the bishop loved a whore,
And had enlarged her empire wide;
He own'd no deity beside.
At sea or land, if e'er you found him.
Without a mistress, hang or drown him.
Since Burnet's death, the bishops' bench,
Till Horte arrived, ne'er kept a wench;
If Horte must sink, she grieves to tell it,
She'll not have left one single prelate :
For, to say truth, she did intend him,
Elect of Cyprus in commendam;
And since her birth the ocean gave her,
She could not doubt her uncle's favour.
Then Proteus urged the same request,
But half in earnest, half in jest;
Said he―" Great sovereign of the main,
To drown him all attempts are vain.
Horte can assume more forms than I,
A rake, a bully, pimp, or spy;
Can creep, or run, or fly, or swim;
All motions are alike to him:
Turn him adrift, and you shall find
He knows to sail with every wind;
Or, throw him overboard, he'll ride
As well against as with the tide.
But Pallas, you've applied too late;
For 'tis decreed by Jove and Fate,
That Ireland must be soon destroy'd,
And who but Horte can be employ'd?
You need not then have been so pert
In sending Boltona to Clonfert.
I found you did it, by your grinning;
Your business is to mind your spinning.
But how you came to interpose
In making bishops, no one knows;
Or who regarded your report;
For never were you seen at court.
And if you must have your petition,
There's Berkeley b in the same condition;
Look, there he stands, and 'tis but just,
If one must drown, the other must;
But if you'll leave us bishop Judas,
We'll give you Berkeley for Bermudas.
Now, if 'twill gratify your spite,
To put him in a plaguy fright,
Although 'tis hardly worth the cost,
You soon shall see him soundly toss'd.
You'll find him swear, blaspheme, and damn
(And every moment take a dram)
His ghastly visage with an air
Of reprobation and despair;
Or else some hiding-hole he seeks,
For fear the rest should say he squeaks;
Or as Fitzpatrick © did before,
Resolve to perish with his whore ;
a Dr. Theophilus Bolton, afterwards archbishop of Cashell.
Dr. George Berkeley, a senior fellow of Trinity college,
Dublin.
Brigadier Fitzpatrick was drowned in one of the packet-
boats in the bay of Dublin, in a great storm.
Or else he raves, and roars, and swears,
And but for shame would say his prayers,
Or would you see his spirits sink?
Relaxing downwards in a stink?
If such a sight as this can please ye,
Good Madam Pallas, pray be easy.
To Neptune speak, and he'll consent;
But he'll come back the knave he went."
The goddess, who conceived an hope
That Horte was destined to a rope,
Believed it best to condescend
To spare a foe, to save a friend;
But fearing Berkeley might be scar'd,
She left him virtue for a guard.
ODE ON SCIENCE.a
O, HEAVENLY born! in deepest dells
If fairest science ever dwells
Beneath the mossy cave;
Indulge the verdure of the woods,
With azure beauty gild the floods,
And flow'ry carpets lave.
For Melancholy ever reigns
Delighted in the sylvan scenes
With scientific light;
While Dian, huntress of the vales,
Seeks lulling sounds and fanning gales,
Though wrapt from mortal sight.
Yet, goddess, yet the way explore
With magic rites and heathen lore
Obstructed and depress'd;
Till wisdom give the sacred Nine,
Untaught, not uninspired to shine,
By reason's power redress'd.
When Solon and Lycurgus taught
To moralise the human thought
Of mad opinion's maze,
To erring zeal they gave new laws,
Thy charms, O Liberty! the cause
That blends congenial rays.
Bid bright Astræa gild the morn,
Or bid a hundred suns be born,
To hecatomb the year;
Without thy aid, in vain the poles,
In vain the zodiac system rolls,
In vain the lunar sphere.
Come, fairest princess of the throng,
Bring sweet philosophy along,
In metaphysic dreams;
While raptured bards no more behold
A vernal age of purer gold
In Heliconian streams,
Drive Thraldom with malignant hand,
To curse some other destined land,
By Folly led astray :
Ierne bear on azure wing;
Energic let her soar, and sing
Thy universal sway.
So when Amphion bade the lyre
To more majestic sound aspire,
Behold the madding throng,
In wonder and oblivion drown'd,
To sculpture turn'd by magic sound
And petrifying song.
a This is written in the same style, and with the same design,
as his "Love-Song in the Modern Taste."
A YOUNG LADY'S COMPLAINT-ON POETRY
651
A YOUNG LADY'S COMPLAINT
FOR THE STAY OF THE DEAN IN ENGLAND.
Written on the same plan with the preceding, in order to ridi-
cule the commonplaces of poetry.
BLOW, ye zephyrs, gentle gales;
Gently fill the swelling sails.
Neptune, with thy trident long,
Trident three-fork'd, trident strong;
And Nereids fair and gay,
ye
Fairer than the rose in May,
Nereids living in deep caves,
Gently wash'd with gentle waves;
Nereids, Neptune lull asleep
Ruffling storms, and ruffled deep;
All around, in pompous state,
On this richer Argo wait:
Argo, bring my golden fleece,
Argo, bring him to his Greece.
Will Cadenus longer stay?
Come, Cadenus, come away;
Come with all the haste of love,
Come unto thy turtle-dove.
The ripen'd cherry on the tree
Hangs, and only hangs for thee,
Luscious peaches, mellow pears,
Ceres, with her yellow ears,
And the grape, both red and white,
Grape inspiring just delight;
All are ripe, and courting sue
To be pluck'd and press'd by you.
Pinks have lost their blooming red,
Mourning hang their drooping head,
Every flower languid seems,
Wants the colour of thy beams,
Beams of wondrous force and power,
Beams reviving every flower.
Come, Cadenus, bless once more,
Bless again thy native shore,
Bless again this drooping isle,
Make its weeping beauties smile,
Beauties that thine absence mourn,
Beauties wishing thy return:
Come, Cadenus, come with haste,
Come before the winter's blast;
Swifter than the lightning fly,
Or I, like Vanessa, die.
ON POETRY.
A RHAPSODY.
1733.
"PRAISE is the strongest satire, and the most pleasing, but it
requires great art and judgment to manage and conduct an
irony. I once said, talking on this subject with dean Swift,
that the Rhapsody was the best satire he had ever composed.
He assured me that immediately after this poem was published
he received a message of thanks from the whole ***.-[Dr.
King's cautious asterisks may be supplied with the words royal
family! This I can easily conceive, as irony is not a figure in,
the German rhetoric. If Mr. Pope, when he calls lord Cobham
a coward, had complimented a German colonel with the same
appellation, my little friend I fear would have fared very ill."
DR. KING's Anecdotes.
ALL human race would fain be wits,
And millions miss for one that hits.
Young's universal passion, pride,
Was never known to spread so wide.
Say, Britain, could you ever boast
Three poets in an age at most?
Our chilling climate hardly bears
A sprig of bays in fifty years;
While every fool his claim alleges,
As if it grew in common hedges.
What reason can there be assign'd
For this perverseness in the mind?
i
Brutes find out where their talents lie:
A bear will not attempt to fly;
A founder'd horse will oft debate,
Before he tries a five-barr'd gate;
A dog by instinct turns aside,
Who sees the ditch too deep and wide.
But man we find the only creature
Who, led by Folly, combats Nature;
Who, when she loudly cries, Forbear
With obstinacy fixes there;
And, where his genius least inclines,
Absurdly bends his whole designs.
Not empire to the rising sun
By valour, conduct, fortune won;
Not highest wisdom in debates
For framing laws to govern states;
Not skill in sciences profound
So large to grasp the circle round;
Such heavenly influence require,
As how to strike the Muse's lyre.
Not beggar's brat on bulk begot;
Not bastard of a pedlar Scot;
Not boy brought up to cleaning shoes,
The spawn of Bridewell or the stews;
Not infants dropp'd, the spurious pledges
Of gipsies litter'd under hedges;
Are so disqualified by fate
To rise in church, or law, or state,
As he whom Phœbus in his ire
Has blasted with poetic fire.
What hope of custom in the fair,
While not a soul demands your ware?
Where you have nothing to produce
For private life, or public use?
Court, city, country, want you not;
You cannot bribe, betray, or plot.
For poets law makes no provision;
The wealthy have you in derision:
Of state affairs you cannot smatter;
Are awkward when you try to flatter;
Your portion, taking Britain round,
Was just one annual hundred pound;
Now not so much as in remainder,
Since Cibber brought in an attainder ;
For ever fix'd by right divine
(A monarch's right) on Grub-street line.
Poor starv❜ling bard, how small thy gains!
How unproportion'd to thy pains!
And here a simile comes pat in:
Though chickens take a month to fatten,
The guests in less than half an hour
Will more than half a score devour.
So, after toiling twenty days
To earn a stock of pence and praise,
Thy labours, grown the critic's prey,
Are swallow'd o'er a dish of tea;
Gone to be never heard of more,
Gone where the chickens went before.
How shall a new attempter learn
Of different spirits to discern,
And how distinguish which is which,
The poet's vein, or scribbling itch?
Then hear an old experienced sinner,
Instructing thus a young beginner.
Consult yourself; and if you find
A powerful impulse urge your mind,
Impartial judge within your breast
What subject you can manage best;
Whether your genius most inclines
To satire, praise, or humorous lines,
To elegies in mournful tone,
Or prologue sent from hand unknown.
Then, rising with Aurora's light,
The Muse invok'd, sit down to write;
652
ON POETRY.
Blot out, correct, insert, refine,
Enlarge, diminish, interline;
Be mindful, when invention fails,
To scratch your head and bite your nails.
Your poem finish'd, next your care
Is needful to transcribe it fair.
In modern wit all printed trash is
Set off with numerous breaks and dashes.
To statesmen would you give a wipe,
You print it in Italic type.
When letters are in vulgar shapes,
'Tis ten to one the wit escapes:
But, when in capitals express'd,
The dullest reader smokes the jest:
Or else perhaps he may invent
A better than the poet meant;
As learned commentators view
In Homer more than Homer knew.
Your poem in its modish dress,
Correctly fitted for the press,
Convey by penny-post to Lintot,
But let no friend alive look into't.
If Lintot thinks 'twill quit the cost,
You need not fear your labour lost :
And how agreeably surprised
Are you to see it advertised;
The hawker shows you one in print,
As fresh as farthings from the mint:
The product of your toil and sweating;
A bastard of your own begetting.
Be sure at Will's, the following day,
Lie snug, and hear what critics say;
And, if you find the general vogue
Pronounces you a stupid rogue,
Damns all your thoughts as low and little,
Sit still and swallow down your spittle;
Be silent as a politician,
For talking may beget suspicion;
Or praise the judgment of the town,
And help yourself to run it down.
Give up your fond paternal pride,
Nor argue on the weaker side:
For, poems read without a name
We justly praise, or justly blame;
And critics have no partial views,
Except they know whom they abuse:
And since you ne'er provoke their spite,
Depend upon't their judgment's right.
But if you blab you are undone :
Consider what a risk you run :
You lose your credit all at once;
The town will mark you for a dunce;
The vilest doggrel Grub-street sends
Will pass for yours with foes and friends;
And you must bear the whole disgrace,
Till some fresh blockhead takes your place.
Your secret kept, your poem sunk,
And sent in quires to line a trunk,
If still you be disposed to rhyme,
Go try your hand a second time.
Again you fail: yet Safe's the word;
Take courage, and attempt a third.
But first with care employ your thoughts
Where critics mark'd your former faults;
The trivial turns, the borrow'd wit,
The similes that nothing fit;
The cant which every fool repeats,
Town jests and coffeehouse conceits,
Descriptions tedious, flat, and dry,
And introduced the Lord knows why:
Or where we find your fury set
Against the harmless alphabet;
On A's and B's your malice vent,
While readers wonder whom you meant:
A public or a private robber,
A statesman or a South-Sea jobber;
A prelate who no God believes;
A parliament or den of thieves;
A pickpurse at the bar or bench,
A duchess or a suburb wench :
Or oft, when epithets you link
In gaping lines to fill a chink ;
Like stepping-stones, to save a stride,
In streets where kennels are too wide;
Or like a heel-piece, to support
A cripple with one foot too short;
Or like a bridge that joins a marish
To moorlands of a different parish.
So have I seen ill-coupled hounds
Drag different ways in miry grounds.
So geographers, in Afric maps,
With savage pictures fill their gaps,
And o'er unhabitable downs
Place elephants for want of towns.
But, though you miss your
third essay,
You need not throw your pen away.
Lay now aside all thoughts of fame,
To spring more profitable game.
From party merit seek support;
The vilest verse thrives best at court.
A pamphlet in sir Bob's defence
Will never fail to bring in pence:
Nor be concern'd about the sale,
He pays his workmen on the nail.
A prince, the moment he is crown'd,
Inherits every virtue round,
As emblems of the sovereign power,
Like other baubles in the Tower:
Is generous, valiant, just, and wise,
And so continues till he dies:
His humble senate this professes,
In all their speeches, votes, addresses.
But once you fix him in a tomb,
His virtues fade, his vices bloom;
And each perfection, wrong imputed,
Is fully at his death confuted.
The loads of poems in his praise,
Ascending, make one funeral blaze:
As soon as you can hear his knell,
This god on earth turns devil in hell:
And lo! his ministers of state,
Transform'd to imps, his levee wait;
Where in the scenes of endless woe
They ply their former arts below;
And as they sail in Charon's boat,
Contrive to bribe the judge's vote ;
To Cerberus they give a sop,
His triple barking mouth to stop;
Or, in the ivory gate of dreams,
Project excise and South-Sea schemes;
Or hire their party pamphleteers
To set Elysium by the ears.
Then, poet, if you mean to thrive,
Employ your muse on kings alive;
With prudence gathering up a cluster
Of all the virtues you can muster,
Which, form'd into a garland sweet,
Lay humbly at your monarch's feet:
Who, as the odours reach his throne,
Will smile and think them all his own;
For law and gospel both determine
All virtues lodge in royal ermine ;
I mean the oracles of both,
Who shall depose it upon oath.
Your garland, in the following reign,
Change but the names, will do again.
But, if you think this trade too base,
(Which seldom is the dunce's case)
ON POETRY.
653
Put on the critic's brow, and sit
At Will's, the puny judge of wit.
A nod, a shrug, a scornful smile,
With caution used, may serve a while.
Proceed no further in your part
Before you learn the terms of art;
For you can never be too far gone
In all our modern critics' jargon :
Then talk with more authentic face
Of unities in time and place:
Get scraps of Horace from your friends,
And have them at your fingers' ends;
Learn Aristotle's rules by rote,
And at all hazards boldly quote ;
Judicious Rymer oft review,
Wise Dennis, and profound Bossu,
Read all the prefaces of Dryden,
For these our critics much confide in
Though merely writ at first for filling,
To raise the volume's price a shilling.
A forward critic often dupes us
With sham quotations peri hupsous :
And if we have not read Longinus,
Will magisterially outshine us.
Then, lest with Greek he over-run ye,
Procure the book for love or money,
Translated from Boileau's translation,
And quote quotation on quotation.
At Will's you hear a poem read,
Where Battus from the table-head,
Reclining on his elbow-chair,
Gives judgment with decisive air;
To whom the tribe of circling wits
As to an oracle submits.
He gives directions to the town,
To cry it up or run it down;
Like courtiers, when they send a note,
Instructing members how to vote.
He sets the stamp of bad and good,
Though not a word be understood.
Your lesson learn'd, you'll be secure
To get the name of connoisseur :
And, when your merits once are known,
Procure disciples of your own.
For poets (you can never want them),
Spread through Augusta Trinobantum,
Computing by their pecks of coals,
Amount to just nine thousand souls :
These o'er their proper districts govern,
Of wit and humour judges sovereign.
In every street a city bard
Rules, like an alderman, his ward
His undisputed rights extend
;
Through all the lane, from end to end;
The neighbours round admire his shrewdness
For songs of loyalty and lewdness;
Outdone by none in rhyming well,
Although he never learn'd to spell.
Two bordering wits contend for glory;
And one is Whig, and one is Tory:
And this, for epics claims the bays,
And that, for elegiac lays :
Some famed for numbers soft and smooth,
By lovers spoke in Punch's booth ;
And some as justly fame extols
For lofty lines in Smithfield drolls.
Bavius in Wapping gains renown,
And Mævius reigns o'er Kentish town:
Tigellius placed in Phœbus' car
From Ludgate shines to Temple-bar:
Harmonious Cibber entertains
The court with annual birthday strains;
Whence Gay was banish'd in disgrace;
Where Pope will never show his face;
Where Young must torture his invention
To flatter knaves, or lose his pension.
But these are not a thousandth part
Of jobbers in the poet's art,
Attending each his proper station,
And all in due subordination,
Through every alley to be found,
In garrets high, or under ground;
And when they join their pericranies,
Out skips a book of miscellanies.
Hobbes clearly proves that every creature
Lives in state of war by nature.
The greater for the smaller watch,
But meddle seldom with their match.
A whale of moderate size will draw
A shoal of herrings down his maw;
A fox with geese his belly crams;
A wolf destroys a thousand lambs;
But search among the rhyming race,
The brave are worried by the base.
If on Parnassus' top you sit,
You rarely bite, are always bit:
Each poet of inferior size
On you shall rail and criticize,
And strive to tear you limb from limb;
While others do as much for him.
The vermin only teaze and pinch
Their foes superior by an inch.
So, naturalists observe, a flea
Has smaller fleas that on him prey;
And these have smaller still to bite 'em,
And so proceed ad infinitum.
Thus every poet, in his kind,
Is bit by him that comes behind :
Who, though too little to be seen,
Can teaze, and gall, and give the spleen;
Call dunces, fools, and sons of whores,
Lay Grub-street at each other's doors;
Extol the Greek and Roman masters,
And curse our modern poetasters;
Complain, as many an ancient bard did,
How genius is no more rewarded;
How wrong a taste prevails among us;
How much our ancestors outsung us;
Can personate an awkward scorn
For those who are not poets born;
And all their brother dunces lash,
Who crowd the press with hourly trash.
O Grub-street! how do I bemoan thee,
Whose graceless children scorn to own thee!
Their filial piety forgot,
Deny their country, like a Scot;
Though, by their idiom and grimace,
They soon betray their native place :
Yet thou hast greater cause to be
Ashamed of them than they of thee,
Degenerate from their ancient brood
Since first the court allow'd them food.
Remains a difficulty still,
To purchase fame by writing ill.
From Flecknoe down to Howard's time,
How few have reach'd the low sublime !
For when our high-born Howard died,
Blackmore alone his place supplied:
And lest a chasm should intervene,
When death had finish'd Blackmore's reign,
The leaden crown devolved to thee,
Great poet of the hollow tree.ª
But ah! how unsecure thy throne!
A thousand bards thy right disown:
a Lord Grimston was the author of this celebrated perform-
ance, of which he was afterwards so much ashamed as to buy
up all the copies.
651
ON POETRY.
They plot to turn, in factious zeal,
Duncenia to a commonweal;
And with rebellious arms pretend
An equal privilege to descend.
In bulk there are not more degrees.
From clephants to mites in cheese
Than what a curious eye may trace
In creatures of the rhyming race.
From bad to worse and worse they fall;
But who can reach the worst of all?
For though in nature depth and height
Are equally held infinite,
In poetry the height we know;
'Tis only infinite below.
For instance when you rashly think,
No rhymer can like Welsted a sink,
His merits balanced, you shall find
The laureat leaves him far behind.
Concannen, more aspiring bard,
Soars downward deeper by a yard.
Smart Jemmy Moore with vigour drops ;
The rest pursue as thick as hops:
с
With heads to point the gulf they enter,
Link'd perpendicular to the centre;
And as their heels elated rise,
Their heads attempt the nether skies.
O, what indignity and shame,
To prostitute the Muses' name!
By flattering kings, whom Heaven design'd
The plagues and scourges of mankind;
Bred up in ignorance and sloth,
And every vice that nurses both.
;
Fair Britain, in thy monarch bless'd,
Whose virtues bear the strictest test
Whom never faction could bespatter,
Nor minister nor poet flatter;
What justice in rewarding merit!
What magnanimity of spirit!
What lineaments divine we trace
Through all his figure, mien, and face!
Though peace with olive binds his hands,
Confess'd the conquering hero stands.
Hydaspes, Indus, and the Ganges,
Dread from his hand impending changes.
From him the Tartar and Chinese,
Short by the knees, entreat for peace.
The consort of his throne and bed,
A perfect goddess born and bred,
Appointed sovereign judge to sit
On learning, eloquence, and wit.
Our eldest hope, divine Iülus,
(Late, very late, O may he rule us!)
What early manhood has he shown
Before his downy beard was grown!
Then think what wonders will be done
By going on as he begun,
An heir for Britain to secure
As long as sun and moon endure.
The remnant of the royal blood
Comes pouring on me like a flood.
Bright goddess, in number five;
Duke William, sweetest prince alive.
Now sing the minister of state,
Who shines alone without a mate.
Observe with what majestic port
This Atlas stands to prop the court:
Mr. Welsted's poems were reprinted in 1787, and contain
specimens of little worth.
In some editions, instead of the laureat, was maliciously
inserted the name of Mr. Fielding; for whose ingenious writ
ings the supposed author manifested a great esteem." Little, "
says Dr. Warton, "did Swift imagine that Fielding would
hereafter equal him in works of humour, and excel him in
drawing and supporting characters, and in the artful conduct
and plan of a comic epopee.'
James Moore Smith, esq., author of "The Rival Modes."
Intent the public debts to pay,
Like prudent Fabius, by delay.
Thou great vicegerent of the king,
Thy praises every Muse shall sing!
In all affairs thou sole director,
Of wit and learning chief protector;
Though small the time thou hast to spare,
The church is thy peculiar care.
Of pious prelates what a stock
You choose to rule the sable flock!
You raise the honour of the peerage,
Proud to attend you at the steerage.
You dignify the noble race,
Content yourself with humbler place.
Now learning, valour, virtue, sense,
To titles give the sole pretence.
St. George beheld thee with delight,
Vouchsafe to be an azure knight,
When on thy breast and sides Herculean,
He fix'd the star and string cerulean.
Say, poet, in what other nation
Shone ever such a constellation!
Attend, ye Popes, and Youngs, and Gays,
And tune your harps, and strew your bays:
Your panegyrics here provide ;
You cannot err on flattery's side.
Above the stars exalt your style,
You still are low ten thousand mile.
On Lewis all his bards bestow'd
Of incense many a thousand load;
But Europe mortified his pride,
And swore the fawning rascals lied.
Yet what the world refused to Lewis,
Applied to George, exactly true is.
Exactly true! invidious poet!
'Tis fifty thousand times below it.
;
Translate me now some lines, if you can,
From Virgil, Martial, Ovid, Lucan.
They could all power in heaven divide,
And do no wrong on either side
They teach you how to split a hair,
Give George and Jove an equal share.
Yet why should we be laced so strait?
I'll give my monarch butter-weight :
And reason good; for many a year
Jove never intermeddled here:
Nor, though his priests be duly paid,
Did ever we desire his aid :
We now can better do without him,
Since Woolston gave us arms to rout him.
Cætera desiderantur.
ON THE DEATH OF DR. SWIFT.ª
Written in November, 1731.b
Occasioned by reading the following MAXIM in
ROCHEFOUCAULT: "Dans l'adversité de nos meil-
leurs amis nous trouvons toujours quelque chose
qui ne nous déplait pas."
"In the adversity of our best friends we always find something
that does not displease us."
As Rochefoucault his maxims drew
From nature, I believe them true:
They argue no corrupted mind
In him; the fault is in mankind.
This maxim more than all the rest
Is thought too base for human breast:
"In all distresses of our friends
We first consult our private ends;
While Nature, kindly bent to ease us,
Points out some circumstance to please us.
The verses on his death, and the Rhapsody on Poetry, are
the best of Swift's poetical productions, though they cannot be
called true poetry.-DR. WARTON.
These verses have undergone, perhaps, a stranger revola-
tion than any other part of the dean's writings. A manifestly
ON THE DEATH OF DR. SWIFT.
655
If this perhaps your patience move,
Let reason and experience prove.
We all behold with envious eyes
Our equals raised above our size.
Who would not at a crowded show
Stand high himself, keep others low?
I love my friend as well as you:
But why should he obstruct my view?
Then let me have the higher post:
Suppose it but an inch at most.
If in a battle you should find
One whom you love of all mankind
Had some heroic action done,
A champion kill'd, or trophy won;
Rather than thus be overtopp'd,
Would you not wish his laurels cropp'd?
Dear honest Ned is in the gout,
Lies rack'd with pain, and you without:
How patiently you hear him groan!
How glad the case is not your own!
What poet would not grieve to see
His brother write as well as he?
But rather than they should excel,
Would wish his rivals all in hell?
Her end when Emulation misses,
She turns to Envy, stings and hisses;
The strongest friendship yields to pride,
Unless the odds be on our side.
Vain humankind! fantastic race!
Thy various follies who can trace?
Self-love, ambition, envy, pride,
Their empire in our hearts divide.
Give others riches, power, and station,
'Tis all on me a usurpation.
I have no title to aspire;
Yet, when you sink, I seem the higher.
In Pope I cannot read a line,
But with a sigh I wish it mine
When he can in one couplet fix
More sense than I can do in six
It gives me such a jealous fit,
;
I cry, "Pox take him and his wit!"
I grieve to be outdone by Gay
In my own humorous biting way.
Arbuthnot is no more my friend,
Who dares to irony pretend,
Which I was born to introduce,
Refined it first, and show'd its use.
St. John, as well as Pulteney, knows
That I had some repute for prose;
And, till they drove me out of date,
Could maul a minister of state.
If they have mortified my pride,
And made me throw my pen aside;
If with such talents Heaven has bless'd 'em,
Have I not reason to detest 'em?
To all my foes, dear Fortune, send
Thy gifts! but never to my friend:
I tamely can endure the first;
But this with envy makes me burst.
spurious cory, containing 201 lines, under the title of "The
Life and Character of Dr. Swift," appeared at London in April
1733; of which the dean complained heavily in a letter to Mr.
Pope, dated May 1st; and notwithstanding Swift acknowledged
in that letter he had written "a poem of near 500 lines upon
the same maxim of Rochefoucault, and was a long time about
it," many readers have supposed (not attending to the circum-
stance of there being two poems on the subject) that the dean
disclaimed the Verses on his own Death. The genuine verses
having been committed to the care of the celebrated author of
"The Toast," an edition was printed in 1738-9, in which more
than 100 lines were omitted. Dr. King assigned many judici-
ous reasons (though some of them were merely temporary and
prudential) for the mutilations: but they were so far from
Satisfying Dr. Swift, that a complete edition was immediately
printed by Faulkner, with the dean's express permission.
The poem, as it now stands in this collection, is agreeable to
Mr. Faulkner's copy.
Thus much may serve by way of proem ;
Proceed we therefore to our poem.
The time is not remote when I
Must by the course of nature die;
When I foresee, my special friends
Will try to find their private ends:
And, though 'tis hardly understood
Which way my death can do them good,
Yet thus, methinks, I hear them speak :
"See, how the dean begins to break!
Poor gentleman, he droops apace!
You plainly find it in his face.
That old vertigo in his head
Will never leave him till he's dead.
Besides, his memory decays:
He recollects not what he says;
He cannot call his friends to mind:
Forgets the place where last he dined;
Plies you with stories o'er and o'er;
He told them fifty times before.
How does he fancy we can sit
To hear his out-of-fashion wit?
But he takes up with younger folks,
Who for his wine will bear his jokes.
Faith he must make his stories shorter
Or change his comrades once a quarter :
In half the time he talks them round,
There must another set be found.
"For poetry he's past his prime :
He takes an hour to find a rhyme;
His fire is out, his wit decay'd,
His fancy sunk, his Muse a jade.
I'd have him throw away his pen ;-
But there's no talking to some men!"
And then their tenderness appears
By adding largely to my years;
"He's older than he would be reckon'd,
And well remembers Charles the Second.
He hardly drinks a pint of wine;
And that, I doubt, is no good sign.
His stomach too begins to fail:
Last year we thought him strong and hale ;
But now he's quite another thing :
I wish he may hold out till spring!"
They hug themselves, and reason thus:
"It is not yet so bad with us!"
In such a case they talk in tropes,
And by their fears express their hopes.
Some great misfortune to portend,
No enemy can match a friend.
With all the kindness they profess,
The merit of a lucky guess
(When daily how-d'yes come of course,
And servants answer, "Worse and worse!")
Would please them better than to tell
That, "God be praised, the dean is well."
Then he who prophesied the best
Approves his foresight to the rest:
"You know I always fear'd the worst,
And often told you so at first."
He'd rather choose that I should die
Than his prediction prove a lie.
Not one foretells I shall recover;
But all agree to give me over.
Yet, should some neighbour feel a pain
Just in the parts where I complain,
How many a message would he send!
What hearty prayers that I should mend!
Inquire what regimen I kept;
What gave me ease, and how I slept?
And more lament when I was dead
Than all the snivellers round my bed.
My good companions, never fear;
For, though you may mistake a year,
656
ON THE DEATH OF DR. SWIFT.
Though your prognostics run too fast,
They must be verified at last.
Behold the fatal day arrive!
"How is the dean?""He's just alive."
Now the departing prayer is read ;
"He hardly breathes."-"The dean is dead."
Before the passing bell begun,
The news through half the town is run.
"O! may we all for death prepare!
What has he left? and who's his heir?”
"I know no more than what the news is;
'Tis all bequeathed to public uses."
"To public uses! there's a whim!
What had the public done for him?
Mere envy, avarice, and pride :
He gave it all-but first he died.
And had the dean, in all the nation,
No worthy friend, no poor relation?
So ready to do strangers good,
Forgetting his own flesh and blood!"
Now Grub-street wits are all employ'd:
With elegies the town is cloy'd:
Some paragraph in every paper
To curse the dean or bless the drapier.
The doctors, tender of their fame,
Wisely on me lay all the blame :
"We must confess his case was nice;
But he would never take advice.
Had he been ruled, for aught appears,
He might have lived these twenty years ·
For when we open'd him we found
That all his vital parts were sound."
From Dublin soon to London spread,
'Tis told at court "the dean is dead."
And lady Suffolk," in the spleen,
Runs laughing up to tell the queen.
The queen, so gracious, mild, and good,
Cries, "Is he gone! 'tis time he should.
He's dead, you say; then let him rot:
I'm glad the medals were forgot.
I promised him, I own; but when?
I only was the princess then ;
But now, as consort of the king,
You know 'tis quite another thing."
Now Chartres,d at sir Robert's levee,
Tells with a sneer the tidings heavy :
"Why, if he died without his shoes,"
Cries Bob, "I'm sorry for the news:
O, were the wretch but living still,
And in his place my good friend Will!f
Or had a mitre on his head,
Provided Bolingbrokes were dead!"
Now Curllh his shop from rubbish drains:
Three genuine tomes of Swifts remains!
And then, to make them pass the glibber,
Revised by Tibbalds, Moore, and Cibber. 1
The dean supposed himself to die in Ireland, where he was
born.
b Mrs. Howard, at one time a favourite with the dean.
• The medals were to be sent to the dean in four months; but
*
d Chartres, an infamous scoundrel, grown from a footboy to a
prodigious fortune, both in England and Scotland.
e Sir Robert Walpole, chief minister of state, treated the
dean in 1726 with great distinction; invited him to dinner at
Chelsea, with the dean's friends chosen on purpose; appointed
an hour to talk with him on Ireland, to which kingdom and
people the dean found him no great friend.
Mr. William Pultney, from being sir Robert's intimate
friend, detesting his administration, opposed his measures, and
joined with my lord Bolingbroke.
Henry St. John, lord viscount Bolingbroke, secretary of
state to queen Anne, of blessed memory.
Curl hath been the most infamous bookseller of any age
or country.
Three stupid verse-writers in London; the last, to the shame
of the court and the disgrace to wit and learning, was made
laureat.
He'll treat me as he does my betters,
Publish my will, my life, my letters :"
Revive the libels born to die;
Which Pope must bear as well as I.
Here shift the scene, to represent
How those I love my death lament.
Poor Pope would grieve a month, and Gay
A week, and Arbuthnot a day.
St. John himself will scarce forbear
To bite his pen and drop a tear.
The rest will give a shrug, and cry,
"I'm sorry-but we all must die!"
Indifference, clad in Wisdom's guise,
All fortitude of mind supplies:
For how can stony bowels melt
In those who never pity felt?
When we are lash'd, they kiss the rod,
Resigning to the will of God.
The fools, my juniors by a year,
Are tortur'd with suspense and fear;
Who wisely thought my age a screen,
When death approach'd, to stand between:
The screen removed, their hearts are trembling;
They mourn for me without dissembling.
My female friends, whose tender hearts
Have better learn'd to act their parts,
Receive the news in doleful dumps:
"The dean is dead: (Pray, what is trumps?,
Then Lord have mercy on his soul!
(Ladies, I'll venture for the vole.)
Six deans, they say, must bear the pall:
(I wish I knew what king to call.)
Madam, your husband will attend
The funeral of so good a friend.
No, madam, 'tis a shocking sight;
And he's engaged to-morrow night :
My lady Club will take it ill
If he should fail her at quadrille.
He loved the dean-(I lead a heart),
But dearest friends, they say, must part.
His time was come: he ran his race;
We hope he's in a better place."
Why do we grieve that friends should die?
No loss more easy to supply.
One year is past; a different scene!
No further mention of the dean;
Who now, alas! no more is miss'd
Than if he never did exist.
Where's now this favourite of Apollo?
Departed and his works must follow;
Must undergo the common fate;
His kind of wit is out of date.
Some country squire to Lintot goes,
Inquires for "Swift in Verse and Prose."
Says Lintot, "I have heard the name;
He died a year ago."-" The same.'
He searches all the shops in vain.
"Sir, you may find them in Duck-lane;b
I sent them with a load of books,
Last Monday, to the pastry-cook's.
To fancy they could live a year!
I find you're but a stranger here.
The dean was famous in his time,
And had a kind of knack at rhyme.
His way of writing now is past;
The town has got a better taste:
I keep no antiquated stuff,
But spick and span I have enough.
Pray do but give me leave to show 'em;
Here's Colley Cibber's birthday poem.
"Curll, notoriously infamous for publishing the lives, letters,
and last wills and testaments of the nobility and ministers of
state, as well as of all the rogues who are hanged at Tyburn.
b Where old books are sold.
ON THE DEATH OF DR. SWIFT.
657
This ode you never yet have seen,
By Stephen Duck, upon the queen
Then here's a letter finely penn'd
Against the Craftsman and his friend :
It clearly shows that all reflection
On ministers is disaffection.
Next, here's sir Robert's vindication,a
And Mr. Henley's last oration.b
The hawkers have not got them yet:
Your honour please to buy a set?
"Here's Wolston's tracts, the twelfth edition;
'Tis read by every politician:
The country members, when in town,
To all their boroughs send them down;
You never met a thing so smart;
..
The courtiers have them all by heart :
Those maids of honour who can read
Are taught to use them for their creed.
The reverend author's good intention
Has been rewarded with a pension.a
He does an honour to his gown,
By bravely running priestcraft down:
He shows, as sure as God's in Gloucester,
That Moses was a grand impostor;
That all his miracles were cheats,
Perform'd as jugglers do their feats :
The church had never such a writer;
A shame he has not got a mitre !"
Suppose me dead! and then suppose
A club assembled at the Rose;
Where, from discourse of this and that,
I grow the subject of their chat.
And while they toss my name about,
With favour some and some without,
One quite indifferent in the cause
My character impartial draws;
"The dean, if we believe report,
Was never ill received at court.
As for his works in verse and prose,
I own myself no judge of those;
A
Nor can I tell what critics thought 'em:
But this I know, all people bought 'em.
As with a moral view design'd
To cure the vices of mankind :
His vein, ironically grave,
Exposed the fool and lash'd the knave.
To steal a hint was never known,
But what he writ was all his own.
"He never thought an honour done him
Because a duke was proud to own him;
Would rather slip aside and choose
To talk with wits in dirty shoes;
Despised the fools with stars and garters,
So often seen caressing Chartres.
He never courted men in station,
Nor persons held in admiration;
Of no man's greatness was afraid,
Because he sought for no man's aid.
Though trusted long in great affairs,
He gave himself no haughty airs :
Without regarding private ends,
Spent all his credit for his friends;
And only chose the wise and good;
No flatterers; no allies in blood:
But succour'd virtue in distress,
And seldom fail'd of good success;
Walpole had a set of party scribblers, who did nothing but
write in his defence.
b Henley, a clergyman, who, wanting both merit and luck to
get preferment, or even to keep his curacy in the established
church, formed a new conventicle, which he called an Oratory.
Wolston, a clergyman, who, for want of bread, in several
treatises, in the most blasphemous manner, attempted to turn
our Saviour's miracles into ridicule.
d Wolston is here confounded with Woolaston.
VOL. I.
As numbers in their hearts must own,
Who but for him had been unknown.a
"With princes kept a due decorum,
But never stood in awe before 'em.
He follow'd David's lesson just,
In princes never put thy trust:
And would you make him truly sour,
Provoke him with a slave in power.
The Irish senate if you named,
With what impatience he declaim'd!
Fair LIBERTY was all his cry,
For her he stood prepared to die;
For her he boldly stood alone;
For her he oft exposed his own.
Two kingdoms,b just as faction led,
Had set a price upon his head;
But not a traitor could be found
To sell him for six hundred pound.
"Had he but spared his tongue and pen,
He might have rose like other men:
But power was never in his thought,
And wealth he valued not a groat:
Ingratitude he often found,
And pitied those who meant the wound:
But kept the tenor of his mind,
To merit well of humankind:
Nor made a sacrifice of those
Who still were true, to please his foes.
He labour'd many a fruitless hour
To reconcile his friends in power;
Saw mischief by a faction brewing,
While they pursued each other's ruin.
But finding vain was all his care,
He left the court in mere despair.c
"And oh! how short are human schemes!
Here ended all our golden dreams.
What St. John's skill in state affairs,
What Ormond's valour, Oxford's cares,
To save their sinking country lent,
Was all destroy'd by one event.
Too soon that precious life was ended
On which alone our weal depended.d
When up a dangerous faction starts,e
With wrath and vengeance in their hearts;
By solemn league and covenant bound
To ruin, slaughter, and confound ;
To turn religion to a fable,
And make the government a Babel;
Pervert the laws, disgrace the gown,
Corrupt the senate, rob the crown;
To sacrifice Old England's glory,
And make her infamous in story:
When such a tempest shook the land,
How could unguarded Virtue stand?
With horror, grief, despair, the dean
Beheld the dire destructive scene:
His friends in exile or the Tower,
Himselff within the frown of power;
Pursued by base envenom'd pens
Far to the land of saints and fens ;
Dr. Delany, in the close of his eighth letter, after having
enumerated the friends with whom the dean lived in the great-
est intimacy, very handsomely applies this passage to himself.
b In 1713 the queen was prevailed with, by an "address from
the house of lords in England, to publish a proclamation,
promising 3001. to discover the author of a pamphlet called “The
Public Spirit of the Whigs:" and in Ireland, in the year 1724,
lord Carteret, at his first coming into the government, was pre-
vailed on to issue a proclamation for promising the like reward
of 300l. to any person who would discover the author of a pam-
phlet called "The Drapier's Fourth Letter.”
• Queen Anne's ministry fell to variance from the first year
after its commencement.
In the height of the quarrel between the ministers the queen
died, Aug. 1, 1714.
On the queen's demise the Whigs were restored to power.
f Upon the queen's death the dean returned to Dublin.
2 U
658
ON THE DEATH OF DR. SWIFT
A servile race in folly nursed,
Who truckle most when treated worst.
"By innocence and resolution,
He bore continual persecution,
While numbers to preferment rose
Whose merits were to be his foes;
When even his own familiar friends,
Intent upon their private ends,
Like renegadoes now he feels
Against him lifting up their heels.
"The dean did by his pen defeat
An infamous destructive cheat;a
Taught fools their interest how to know,
And gave them arms to ward the blow.
Envy has own'd it was his doing
To save that hapless land from ruin;
While they who at the steerage stood,
And reap'd the profit, sought his blood.
"To save them from their evil fate,
In him was held a crime of state.
A wicked monster on the bench,b
Whose fury blood could never quench;
As vile and profligate a villain
As modern Scroggs or old Tresilian ;c
Who long all justice had discarded,
Nor fear'd he God, nor man regarded,
Vow'd on the dean his rage to vent,
And make him of his zeal repent:
But Heaven his innocence defends,
The grateful people stand his friends;
Not strains of law, nor judge's frown,
Nor topics brought to please the crown,
Nor witness hired, nor jury pick'd,
Prevail to bring him in convict.
d
"In exile, with a steady heart,
He spent his life's declining part,
Where folly, pride, and faction sway;
Remote from St. John, Pope, and Gay.e
His friendships there, to few confined,
Were always of the middling kind;
No fools of rank, a mongrel breed,
Who fain would pass for lords indeed:
Where titles give no right or power,
And peerage is a wither'd flower;
He would have held it a disgrace
If such a wretch had known his face.
• Wood, a hardware-man from England, had a patent for
coining copper halfpence for Ireland, to the sum of 108,000/.
which, in the consequence, must have left that kingdom with-
out gold or silver.
b Whitshed was then chief-justico.
• Sir William Scroggs, chief-justice of the king's bench in
the reign of king Charles II., and sir Robert Tresilian, chief-
justice of England in the time of Richard II.
d In Ireland, which he had reason to call a place of exilo.
I
"Alas, poor dean his only scope
Was to be held a misanthrope.
This into gen'ral odium drew him,
Which if he liked, much good may't do him.
His zeal was not to lash our crimes,
But discontent against the times:
For had we made him timely offers
To raise his post or fill his coffers,
Perhaps he might have truckled down,
Like other brethren of his gown.
For party he would scarce have bled:-
I say no more-because he's dead.-
What writings has he left bohind?
I hear, they're of a different kind;
A few in verse; but most in prose-
Some high-flown pamphlets, I suppose ;~
All scribbled in the worst of times,
To palliate his friend Oxford's crimes;
To praise queen Anne, nay more, defend her,
As never fav'ring the pretender;
Or libols yet conceal'd from sight,
Against the court to show his spite:
Perhaps his travels, part the third ;
A lie at ev'ry second word-
Offensive to a loyal car :-
But-not one sermon, you may swear.'
On rural squires, that kingdom's bane,
He vented oft his wrath in vain;
******* squires to market brought,
Who sell their souls and **** for nought.
The ****** go joyful back,
The *** the church their tenants rack,
Go snacks with *******
And keep the peace to pick up fees;
In every job to have a share,
A gaol or turnpike to repair;
And turn the tax for public roads,
Commodious to their own abodes.
"Perhaps I may allow the dean
Had too much satire in his vein,
And seem'd determined not to starve it,
Because no age could more deserve it.
Yet malice never was his aim ;
He lash'd the vice, but spared the name;
No individual could resent,
Where thousands equally were meant
His satire points at no defect
But what all mortals may correct;
For he abhorr'd that senseless tribe
Who call it humour when they gibe:
He spared a hump or crooked nose,
Whose owners set not up for beaux.
True genuine dulness moved his pity,
Unless it offer'd to be witty.
Those who their ignorance confess'd
He ne'er offended with a jest;
But laugh'd to hear an idiot quote
A verse from Horace learn'd by rote.³
"He knew a hundred pleasing stories,
With all the turns of Whigs and Tories;
Was cheerful to his dying day,
And friends would let him have his way.
"He gave the little wealth he had
To build a house for fools and mad;
And show'd by one satiric touch
No nation wanted it so much.
That kingdom he had left his debtor,
I wish it soon may have a better."b
VERSES SENT TO THE DEAN ON HIS
BIRTH-DAY.
WITH PINE'S HORACE, FINELY BOUND.
BY DR. J. SICAN.C
(Horace speaking).
You've read, sir, in poetic strain,
How Varus and the Mantuan swain
Have on my birthday been invited,
(But I was forced in verse to write it,)
Upon a plain repast to dine,
And taste my old Campanian wine,
But I, who all punctilios hate,
Though long familiar with the great,
Nor glory in my reputation,
Am come without an invitation;
And though I'm used to right Falernian,
I'll deign for once to taste Iërnian;
But fearing that you might dispute
(Had I put on my common suit)
My breeding and my politesse,
I visit in my birthday dress:
My coat of purest Turkey red,
With gold embroidery richly spread;
a Vice, if it c'er can be abash'd,
Must be or ridiculed or lash'd.
If
you resent it, who's to blame?
He neither knew you nor your name.
Should vice expect to 'scape robuke,
Because its owner is a duke?
b And, since you dread no further lashes,
Methinks you may forgive his ashes.
• This ingenious young gentleman was unfortunately mur
dered in Italy.
ON DR. SWIFT'S BIRTHDAY-EPIGRAMS, &c.
659
To which I've sure as good pretensions
As Irish lords who starve on pensions.
What though proud ministers of state
Did at your antechamber wait;
What though your Oxfords and your St. Johns,
Have at your levee paid attendance;
And Peterborow and great Ormond,
With many chiefs who now are dormant,
Have laid aside the general's staff
And public cares, with you to laugn;
Yet I some friends as good can name,
Nor less the darling sons of fame;
For sure my Pollio and Mæcenas
Were as good statesmen, Mr. Dean, as
Either your Bolingbroke or Harley,
Though they made Lewis beg a parley;
And as for Mordaunt, your loved hero,
I'll match him with my Drusus Nero.
You'll boast, perhaps, your favourite Pope,
But Virgil is as good, I hope.
I own indeed I can't get any
To equal Helsham and Delany;
Since Athens brought forth Socrates,
A Grecian isle, Hippocrates;
Since Tully lived before my time,
And Galen bless'd another clime.
why such fears?
You'll plead, perhaps, at my request,
To be admitted as a guest,
"Your hearing's bad!"-But
I speak to eyes, and not to ears;
And for that reason wisely took
The form you see me in-a book.
Attack'd by slow devouring moths,
By rage of barbarous Huns and Goths;
By Bentley's notes, my deadliest foes,
By Creech's rhymes, and Dunster's prose ;
I found my boasted wit and fire
In their rude hands almost expire :
Yet still they but in vain assail'd;
For, had their violence prevail'd,
And in a blast destroy'd my frame,
They would have partly miss'd their aim:
Since all my spirit in thy page
Defies the Vandals of this age.
'Tis yours to save these small remains
From future pedant's muddy brains,
And fix my long uncertain fate,
You best know how-" which way?"-TRANSLATE.
EPIGRAM BY MR. BOWYER.
INTENDED TO BE PLACED UNDER THE HEAD OF
GULLIVER. 1733.
"HERE learn from moral truth and wit refined,
How vice and folly have debased mankind;
Strong sense and humour arm in virtue's cause;
Thus her great votary vindicates her laws:
While bold and free the glowing colours strike;
Blame not the picture, if the picture's like."
ON PSYCHE.
Ar two afternoon for our Psyche inquire,
Her tea-kettle's on, and her smock at the fire:
So loitering, so active; so busy, so idle;
Which has she most need of, a spur or a bridle?
Thus a greyhound outruns the whole pack in a race,
Yet would rather be hang'd than he'd leave 'a warm
place.
She gives you such plenty, it puts you in pain;
But ever with prudence takes care of the main.
To please you, she knows how to choose a nice bit,
For her taste is almost as refined as her wit.
To oblige a good friend she will trace every market,
It would do your heart good to see how she will
cark it.
Yet beware of her arts, for it plainly appears
She gaves half her victuals by feeding your ears.
THE DEAN AND DUKE. 1734.
JAMES BRYDGES and the dean had long been friends;
James is beduked ;a of course their friendship ends:
But sure the dean deserves a sharp rebuke,
For knowing James to boast he knows the duke.
Yet, since just Heaven the duke's ambition mocks,
Since all he got by fraud is lost by stocks,
His wings are clipp'd: he tries no more in vain
With bands of fiddlers to extend his train.
Since he no more can build, and plant, and revel,
The duke and dean seem near upon a level.
O! wert thou not a duke, my good duke Humphry,
From bailiff's claws thou scarce could'st keep thy
bum free.
A duke to know a dean! go, smooth thy crown:
Thy brotherb (far thy better) wore a gown.
Well, but a duke thou art; so pleased the king:
O! would his majesty but add a string!
WRITTEN BY DR. SWIFT,
ON HIS OWN DEAFNESS, IN SEPTEMBER, 1734.
VERTIGINOSUS, inops, surdus, male gratus amicis ;
Non campana sonans, tonitru non ab Jove missum,
Quod mage mirandum, saltem si credere fas est,
Non clamosa meas mulier jam percutit aures.
THE DEAN'S COMPLAINT TRANSLATED
AND ANSWERED.
DOCTOR.
DEAF, giddy, helpless, left alone.
ANSWER.
Except the first, the fault's your own.
DOC.-To all my friends a burden grown.
ANS. Because to few you will be shown.
Give them good wine and meat to stuff,
You may have company enough.
DOC.-No more I hear my church's bell
Than if it rang out for my knell.
ANS.-Then write and read, 'twill do as well.
DOC.-At thunder now no more I start,
Than at the rumbling of a cart.
ANS.-Think then of thunder when you ft.
DOC.-Nay, what's incredible, alack!
No more I hear a woman's clack.
ANS.-A woman's clack, if I have skill,
Sounds somewhat like a throwster's mill;
But louder than a bell or thunder:
That does, I own, increase my wonder.
EPIGRAM BY MR. BOWYER.
"IN SYLLABAM LONGAM IN VOCE VERTIGINOSUS
A. D. SWIFT CORREPTAM."
MUSARUM antistes, Phobi numerosus alumnus,
Vix omnes numeros Vertiginosus habet.
Intentat charo capiti vertigo ruinam :
Oh! servet cerebro nata Minerva caput.
Vertigo nimium longa est, divina pocta;
Dent tibi Pierides, donet Apollo, brevem.
James Brydges was created duke of Chandos, April 30, 1719.
b The hon. Henry Brydges, archdeacon of Rochester.
• These lines were found on his table when his servant
brought up his dinner. Mrs. Ridgeway, his housekeeper, re-
Mrs. Sican, a very ingenious lady, mother to the author of quested a copy of them, and the dean immediately gave her the
the poom at p. 658.
!
paper.
2U2
660
VERSES FOR FRUIT-WOMEN-ON A SPANIEL-&c.
!
THE DEAN'S MANNER OF LIVING.
ON rainy days alone I dine
Upon a chick and pint of wine.
On rainy days I dine alone,
And pick my chicken to the bone;
But this my servants much enrages,
No scraps remain to save board-wages
In weather fine I nothing spend,
But often sponge upon a friend;
Yet, where he's not so rich as I,
I pay my club, and so good bye.
VERSES MADE FOR FRUIT-WOMEN, &c.
APPLES.
COME buy my fine wares,
Plums, apples, and pears.
A hundred a penny,
In conscience too many:
Come, will you have any?
My children are seven,
I wish them in heaven;
My husband a sot,
With his pipe and his pot;
Not a farthing will gain them,
And I must maintain them.
ASPARAGUS.
RIPE 'sparagras,
Fit for lad or lass,
To make their water pass;
O, 'tis a pretty picking
With a tender chicken!
ONIONS.
COME, follow me by the smell,
Here are delicate onions to sell;
I promise to use you well.
They make the blood warmer,
You'll feed like a farmer;
For this is every cook's opinion,
No savoury dish without an onion;
But, lest your kissing should be spoil'd,
Your onions must be thoroughly boil'd:
Or else you may spare
Your mistress a share,
The secret will never be known:
She cannot discover
The breath of her lover,
But think it as sweet as her own.
OYSTERS.
CHARMING Oysters I cry :
My masters come buy:
So plump and so fresh,
So sweet is their flesh,
No Colchester oyster
Is sweeter and moister:
Your stomach they settle,
And rouse up your mettle:
They'll make you a dad
Of a lass or a lad
;
And madam your wife
They'll please to the life;
Be she barren, be she old,
Be she slut, or be she scold,
Eat my oysters, and lie near her,
She'll be fruitful, never fear her.
HERRINGS.
Be not sparing,
Leave off swearing.
Buy my herring
Fresh from Malahide,ª
Better never was tried.
Come, eat them with pure fresh butter and mustard ;
Their bellies are soft, and as white as a custard.
Come, sixpence a-dozen, to get me some bread,
Or, like my own herrings, I soon shall be dead.
ORANGES.
COME, buy my fine oranges, sauce for your veal,
And charming, when squeezed in a pot of brown ale;
Well roasted, with sugar and wine in a cup,
They'll make a sweet bishop when gentlefolks sup.
ON ROVER, A LADY'S SPANIEL.
INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER.b
HAPPIEST of the spaniel race,
Painter, with thy colours grace:
Draw his forehead large and high,
Draw his blue and humid eye;
Draw his neck so smooth and round,
Little neck with ribbons bound!
And the muscly swelling breast,
Where the Loves and Graces rest
And the spreading even back,
Soft, and sleek, and glossy black;
And the tail that gently twines,
Like the tendrils of the vines
;
And the silky twisted hair,
Shadowing thick the velvet ear;
Velvet ears, which, hanging low,
O'er the veiny temples flow.
With a proper light and shade
Let the winding hoop be laid;
And within that arching bower,
(Secret circle, mystic power,)
In a downy slumber place
Happiest of the spaniel race;
While the soft respiring dame,
Glowing with the softest flame,
On the ravish'd favourite pours
Balmy dews, ambrosial showers.
;
With thy utmost skill express
Nature in her richest dress,
Limpid rivers smoothly flowing,
Orchards by those rivers blowing;
Curling woodbine, myrtle shade,
And the gay enamell'd mead;
Where the linnets sit and sing,
Little sportlings of the spring;
Where the breathing field and grove
Soothe the heart and kindle love.
Here for me, and for the Muse,
Colours of resemblance choose,
Make of lineaments divine,
Daply female spaniels shine,
Pretty fondlings of the fair,
Gentle damsels' gentle care;
But to one alone impart
All the flattery of thy art.
Crowd each feature, crowd each grace,
Which complete the desperate face;
Let the spotted wanton dame
Feel a new resistless flame!
Let the happiest of his race
Win the fair to his embrace.
But in shade the rest conceal,
Nor to sight their joys reveal,
Lest the pencil and the Muse
Loose desires and thoughts infuse.
• Malahide, near Dublin, famous for oysters.
b In ridicule of Phillips's poem on Miss Carteret.
EPIGRAMS ON WINDOWS, &c.
661
EPIGRAMS ON WINDOWS.
Several of them written in 1726.
ON A WINDOW AT AN INN.
WE fly from luxury and wealth
To hardships, in pursuit of health;
From generous wines, and costly fare,
And dozing in an easy chair;
Pursue the goddess Health in vain,
To find her in a country scene,
And everywhere her footsteps trace,
And see her marks in every face;
And still her favourites we meet,
Crowding the roads with naked feet.
But, oh, so faintly we pursue,
We ne'er can have her full in view.
AT AN INN IN ENGLAND.
THE glass, by lovers' nonsense blurr'd,
Dims and obscures our sight;
So, when our passions Love has stirr'd,
It darkens Reason's light.
ANOTHER, AT CHESTER.
THE church and clergy here, no doubt,
Are very near a-kin;
Both weather-beaten are without,
And empty both within.
ANOTHER, AT CHESTER.
My landlord is civil,
But dear as the d-1:
Your pockets grow empty
With nothing to tempt ye;
The wine is so sour;
'Twill give you a scour:
The beer and the ale
Are mingled with stale.
The veal is such carrion,
A dog would be weary on.
All this I have felt,
For I live on a smelt.
ANOTHER, AT CHESTER.
THE walls of this town
Are full of renown,
And strangers delight to walk round 'em:
But as for the dwellers,
Both buyers and sellers,
For me, you may hang 'em or drown 'em.
ANOTHER, AT HOLYHEAD.ª
O NEPTUNE! Neptune! must I still
Be here detain'd against my will?
Is this your justice, when I'm come
Above two hundred miles from home;
O'er mountains steep, o'er dusty plains,
Half choked with dust, half drown'd with rains,
Only your godship to implore
To let me kiss your other shore?
A boon so small! but I may weep,
While you're, like Baal, fast asleep.
ANOTHER, WRITTEN UPON A WINDOW WHERE THERE
WAS NO WRITING BEFORE.
THANKS to my stars, I once can see
A window here from scribbling free!
Here no conceited coxcombs pass,
To scratch their paltry drabs on glass;
"These verses aro signed J-K-; but written, as it is
presumed, in Dr, Swift's hand.
Nor party fool is calling names,
Or dealing crowns to George and James.
ON SEEING VERSES WRITTEN UPON WINDOWS AT
INNS.
THE sage, who said he should be proud
Of windows in his breast,
Because he ne'er a thought allow'd
That might not be confess'd;
His window scrawl'd by every rake,
His breast again would cover,
And fairly bid the devil take
The diamond and the lover.
ANOTHER.
By Satan taught, all conjurors know
Your mistress in a glass to show,
And you can do as much:
In this the devil and you agree;
None e'er made verses worse than he,
And thine, I swear, are such.
ANOTHER.
THAT love is the devil, I'll prove when required;
Those rhymers abundantly show it:
They swear that they all by love are inspired,
And the devil's a damnable poet.
TO JANUS, ON NEW-YEAR'S DAY.
1726.
TWO-FACED Janus, god of Time!
Be my Phoebus while I rhyme;
To oblige your crony Swift,
Bring our dame a new-year's gift;
She has got but half a face;
Janus, since thou hast a brace,
To my lady once be kind,
Give her half thy face behind.
God of Time, if you be wise,
Look not with your future eyes;
What imports thy forward sight
Well, if you could lose it quite.
Can you take delight in viewing
This poor isle's [Ireland] approaching ruin,
When thy retrospection vast
Sees the glorious ages past?
Happy nation, were we blind,
Or had only eyes behind!
Drown your morals, madam cries,
I'll have none but forward eyes;
Prudes decay'd about may tack,
Strain their necks with looking back.
Give me time when coming on;
Who regards him when he's gone?
By the dean though gravely told,
New years help to make me old;
Yet I find a new-year's lace
Burnishes an old-year's face.
Give me velvet and quadrille,
I'll have youth and beauty still.
A MOTTO FOR MR. JASON HASARD,
WOOLLEN-DRAPER IN DUBLIN, WHOSE SIGN WAS THE
GOLDEN FLEECE.
JASON, the valiant prince of Greece,
From Colchis brought the Golden Fleece:
We comb the wool, refine the stuff,
For modern Jasons that's enough.
Oh! could we tame yon watchful dragon [England],
Old Jason would have less to brag on.
662
TO A FRIEND-CURATE'S COMPLAINT-EPIGRAMS, &c.
•
TO A FRIEND,
WHO HAD BEEN MUCH ABUSED IN DIFFERENT LIBELS.
THE greatest monarch may be stabb'd by night,
And Fortune help the murderer in his flight;
The vilest ruffian may commit a rape,
Yet safe from injured innocence escape;
And Calumny, by working under ground,
Can, unrevenged, the greatest merit wound.
What's to be done? Shall wit and learning choose
To live obscure, and have no fame to lose?
By Censure frighted out of Honour's road,
Nor dare to use the gifts by Heaven bestow'd?
Or fearless enter in through Virtue's gate,
And buy distinction at the dearest rate?
CATULLUS DE LESBIA.
Lesbia mî dicit semper male; nec tacet unquam
De me. Lesbia me, dispeream, nisi amat.
Quo signo? quia sunt totidem mea: deprecor illam
Assiduè; verum, dispeream, nisi amo.
LESBIA for ever on me rails,
To talk of me she never fails.
Now, hang me, but for all her art,
I find that I have gain'd her heart.
My proof is this: I plainly see
The case is just the same with me;
I curse her every hour sincerely,
Yet, hang me, but I love her dearly.
ON A
CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY.
I MARCH'D three miles through scorching sand,
With zeal in heart, and notes in hand;
I rode four more to Great St. Mary,
Using four legs, when two were weary:
To three fair virgins I did tie men
In the close bands of pleasing Hymen;
I dipp'd two babes in holy water,
And purified their mother after.
Within an hour and eke a half,
I preach'd three congregations deaf;
Where, thundering out, with lungs long-winded,
I chopp'd so fast, that few there minded.
My emblem, the laborious sun,
Saw all these mighty labours done
Before one race of his was run.
All this perform'd by Robert Hewit :
What mortal else could e'er go through it?
TO BETTY,
THE GRISETTE. 1730.
QUEEN of wit and beauty, Betty,
Never may the Muse forget ye,
How thy face charms every shepherd,
Spotted over like a leopard !
And thy freckled neck, display'd,
Envy breeds in every maid;
Like a fly-blown cake of tallow,
Or on parchment ink turn'd yellow;
Or a tawny speckled pippin,
Shrivell'd with a winter's keeping.
And thy beauty thus despatch'd,
Let me praise thy wit unmatch'd.
Sets of phrases, cut and dry,
Evermore thy tongue supply;
And thy memory is loaded
With old scraps from plays exploded;
Stock'd with repartees and jokes,
Suited to all christian folks :
Shreds of wit and senseless rhymes,
Blunder'd out a thousand times;
Nor wilt thou of gifts be sparing,
Which can ne'er be worse for wearing.
Picking wit among collegians,
In the playhouse upper regions;
Where, in the eighteen-penny gallery,
Irish nymphs learn Irish raillery.
But thy merit is thy failing,
And thy raillery is railing.
Thus with talents well endued
To be scurrilous and rude;
When you pertly raise your snout,
Fleer and gibe, and laugh and fout;
This among Hibernian asses
For sheer wit and humour passes.
Thus indulgent Chloe, bit,
Swears you have a world of wit.
EPIGRAM.
FROM THE FRENCH.
[A FRENCH gentleman dining with some company on a fastday,
called for some bacon and eggs. The rest were very angry, and
reproved him for so heinous a sin; whereupon he wrote the
following lines, which are translated.]
PEUT on croire avec bon sens
Qu'un lardon le mit en colère,
Ou, que manger un hareng,
C'est un secret pour lui plaire ?
En sa gloire envelopé,
Songe-t-il bien de nos soupés?
WHO can believe with common sense
A bacon slice gives God offence;
Or, how a herring has a charm
Almighty vengeance to disarm ?
Wrapp'd up in majesty divine,
Does he regard on what we dine?
EPIGRAM. 1712.
As Thomas was cudgell'd one day by his wife,
He took to the street, and fled for his life:
Tom's three dearest friends came by in the squabble,
And saved him at once from the shrew and the rabble;
Then ventured to give him some sober advice-
But Tom is a person of honour so nice,
Too wise to take counsel, too proud to take warning,
That he sent to all three a challenge next morning.
Three duels he fought, thrice ventured his life;
Went home and was cudgell'd again by his wife.
JOAN CUDGELS NED. 1723.
JOAN cudgels Ned, yet Ned's a bully;
Will cudgels Bess, yet Will's a cully.
Die Ned and Bess; give Will to Joan,
She dares not say her life's her own.
Die Joan and Will; give Bess to Ned,
And every day she combs his head.
VERSES
ON TWO CELEBRATED MODERN POETS.
BEHOLD, those monarch oaks, that rise
With lofty branches to the skies,
Have large proportion'd roots that grow
With equal longitude below:
Two bards that now in fashion reign
Most aptly this device explain:
If this to clouds and stars will venture,
That creeps as far to reach the centre;
Or, more to show the thing I mean,
Have you not o'er a sawpit seen
A skill'd mechanic, that has stood
High on a length of prostrate wood,
Who hired a subterraneous friend
To take his iron by the end?
But which excell'd was never found,
The man above or under ground.
EPITAPHS, &c.
663
The moral is so plain to hit,
That, had I been the god of wit,
Then, in a sawpit and wet weather,
Should Young and Philips drudge together.
EPITAPH
ON GENERAL GORGES, AND LADY MEATH.b
UNDER this stone lies Dick and Dolly.
Doll dying first, Dick grew melancholy;
For Dick without Doll thought living a folly.
Dick lost in Doll a wife tender and dear:
But Dick lost by Doll twelve hundred a-year;
A loss that Dick thought no mortal could bear.
Dick sigh'd for his Doll, and his mournful arms
cross'd;
;
Thought much of his Doll and the jointure he lost;
The first vex'd him much, the other vex'd most.
Thus loaded with grief, Dick sigh'd and he cried:
To live without both full three days he tried;
But liked neither loss, and so quietly died.
Dick left a pattern few will copy after:
Then, reader, pray shed some tears of salt water
For so sad a tale is no subject of laughter.
Meath smiles for the jointure, though gotten so late
The son laughs, that got the hard-gotten estate;
And Cuffe grins, for getting the Alicant plate.
Here quiet they lie, in hopes to rise one day,
Both solemnly put in this hole on a Sunday,
And here rest-sic transit gloria mundi!
VERSES ON I KNOW NOT WHAT.
My latest tribute here I send ;
With this let your collection end.
Thus I consign you down to fame
A character to praise or blame :
And if the whole may pass for true,
Contented rest, you have your due.
Give future time the satisfaction
To leave one handle for detraction.
DR. SWIFT TO HIMSELF.
ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
GRAVE dean of St. Patrick's, how comes it to pass
That you, who know music no more than an ass,
That you, who so lately were writing of drapiers,
Should lend your cathedral to players and scrapers?
To act such an opera once in a year,
So offensive to every true protestant ear,
With trumpets, and fiddles, and organs, and singing,
Will sure the pretender and popery bring in;
No protestant prelate, his lordship or grace,
Durst there show his right or most reverend face:
How would it pollute their croziers and rochets,
To listen to minims, and quavers, and crotchets !
[The rest is wanting.]
AN ANSWER TO A FRIEND'S QUESTION.
THE furniture that best doth please
St. Patrick's dean, good sir, are these:
The knife and fork with which I eat;
And next the pot that boils the meat;
The next to be preferr'd, I think,
Is the glass in which I drink;
The shelves on which my books I keep,
And the bed on which I sleep;
An antique elbow-chair between,
Big enough to hold the dean;
And the stove that gives delight
In the cold bleak wintry night :
Of Kilbrue, in the county of Meath.
b Dorothy, dowager of Edward earl of Meath. She was
married to the general in 1716, and died April 10, 1728. Her
husband survived her but two days.
To these we add a thing below,
More for use reserved than show.
These are what the dean do please;
All superfluous are but these.
EPIGRAM.&
BEHOLD a proof of Irish sense;
Here Irish wit is seen!
When nothing's left that's worth defence,
We build a magazine!
EPITAPH,
INSCRIBED ON A MARBLE TABLET, IN BERKELEY
CHURCH, GLOUCESTERSHIRE.
H. S. E.
CAROLUS Comes de BERKELEY, Vicecomes DURSLEY,
Baro BERKELEY, de Berkeley Cast., MOWBRAY, SEGRAVE,
Et BRUCE, è nobilissimo Ordine Balnei Eques,
Vir ad genus quod spectat et proavos usquequaque nobilis,
Et longo si quis alius procerum stemmate editus ;
Muniis etiam tam illustri stirpi dignis insignitus.
Siquidem a GULIELMO III ad ordines foederati Belgii
Ablegatus et Plenipotentiarus Extraordinarius
Rebus, non Britanniæ tantùm, sed totius fere Europæ
(Tunc temporis præsertim arduis) per annos V. incubuit,
Quam felici diligentiâ, fide quam intemeratâ,
Ex illo discas, Lector, quod, superstite patre,
In magnatum ordinem adscisci meruerit.
Fuit à sanctioribus consiliis et Regi GULIEL. et ANNE Reginæ,
E proregibus Hiberniæ secundus,
Comitatum civitatumque Glocest. et Brist. Dominus Locumten.
Surriæ et Glocest. Custos Rot., Urbis Glocest. magnus
Senescallus, Arcis sancti de Briavell Castellanus,
Guardianus Forestæ de Dean.
Denique ad Turcarum primum, deinde ad Roman. Imperatorem
Cum Legatus Extraordinarius designatus esset,
Quo minus has etiam ornaret provincias
Obstitit adversa corporis valetudo.
Sed restat adhuc, præ quo sordescunt cætera,
Honos verus, stabilis, et vel morti cedere nescius,
Quòd veritatem evangelicum seriò amplexus;
Erga Deum pius, erga pauperes munificus,
Adversus omnes æquus et benevolus,
In Christo jame placid obdormit
Cum eodem olimi regnaturus unà.
Natus VIII April,MDCXLIX. denatus
XXIV⁰ Septem. MDCCX, ætat. suæ LXII.
EPITAPH
ON FREDERICK DUKE OF SCHOMBERG.
Hic infra situm est corpus
FREDERICI DUCIS DE SCHOMBERG
ad BUDINDAM occisi, A.D. 1690.
DECANUS et CAPITULUM maximopere etiam
atque etiam petierunt,
UT HÆREDES DUCIS monumentum
In memoriam PARENTIS erigendum curarent:
Sed postquam per epistolas, per amicos,
diu ac sæpe orando nil profecêre;
Hunc demum lapidem ipsi statuerunt,
c Saltem ut scias, hospes,
Ubinam terrarum SCONBERGENSIS cineres
delitescunt.
"Plus potuit fama virtutis apud alienos,
Quam sanguinis proximitas apud suos.'
A.D. 1731.
The dean, in his lunacy, had some intervals of sense; at
which time his guardians or physicians took him out for the
air. On one of these days, when they came to the park, Swift
remarked a new building, which he had never seen, and asked
what it was designed for? To which Dr. Kingsbury answered,
"That, Mr. Dean, is the magazine for arms and powder for the
security of the city.'
"-"Oh! oh!" says the dean, pulling out
his pocket-book; "let me take an item of that. This is worth
remarking:-'My tablets,' as Hamlet says, my tablets-me-
mory, put down that!'"'
Which produced the above lines, said
to be the last he ever wrote.
b The duke was unhappily killed in crossing the river Boyne,
July 1, 1690, and was buried in St. Patrick's cathedral; where
the dean and chapter erected a small monument to his honour,
at their own expense.
• The words that Dr. Swift first concluded the epitaph with
were "Saltem ut sciat viator indignabundus, quali in cellulâ
tanti ductoris cineres delitescunt.'
664
AN APOLOGY TO LADY CARTERET.
AN APOLOGY TO LADY CARTERET.
A LADY, wise as well as fair,
Whose conscience always was her care,
Thoughtful upon a point of moment,
Would have the text as well as comment;
So hearing of a grave divine,
She sent to bid him come and dine.
But you must know he was not quite
So grave as to be unpolite:
Thought human learning would not lessen
The dignity of his profession;
And if you'd heard the man discourse,
Or preach, you'd like him scarce the worse.
He long had bid the court farewell,
Retreating silent to his cell;
Suspected for the love he bore
To one who sway'd some time before;
Which made it more surprising how
He should be sent for thither now.
;
The message told, he gapes and stares,
And scarce believes his eyes or ears:
Could not conceive what it should mean,
And fain would hear it told again.
But then the squire so trim and nice,
'Twere rude to make him tell it twice
So bow'd, was thankful for the honour,
And would not fail to wait upon her.
His beaver brush'd, his shoes and gown,
Away he trudges into town
Passes the lower castle yard,
And now advancing to the guard,
He trembles at the thoughts of state,
For, conscious of his sheepish gait,
His spirits of a sudden fail'd him;
He stopp'd, and could not tell what ail'd him.
What was the message I received?
Why certainly the captain raved!
To dine with her! and come at three!
Impossible! it can't be me.
Or maybe I mistook the word;
My lady-it must be my lord.
My lord's abroad; my lady too :
What must the unhappy doctor do?
"Is captain Cracherode here, pray?"
"Nay, then 'tis time for me to go."
Am I awake, or do I dream ?
-"No."
I'm sure he call'd me by my name;
Named me as plain as he could speak,
And yet there must be some mistake.
Why, what a jest should I have been,
Had now my lady been within!
What could I've said? I'm mighty glad
She went abroad-she'd thought me mad.
The hour of dining now is past:
Well, then, I'll e'en go home and fast:
And since I 'scaped being made a scoff,
I think I'm very fairly off.
My lady, now returning home,
Calls, "Cracherode, is the doctor come ?"
He had not heard of him-"Pray see,
'Tis now a quarter after three."
The captain walks about, and searches
Through all the rooms, and courts, and arches;
Examines all the servants round,
In vain-no doctor's to be found.
My lady could not choose but wonder ;
"Captain, I fear you've made some blunder;
But pray to-morrow go at ten;
I'll try his manners once again:
If rudeness be th' effect of knowledge,
My son shall never sec a college."
The captain was a man of reading,
And much good sense as well as breeding,
Who, loth to blame or to incense,
Said little in his own defence.
Next day another message brought ;
The doctor, frighten'd at his fault,
Is dress'd, and stealing through the crowd,
Now pale as death, then blush'd and bow'd,
Panting and faltering-humm'd and ha'd,
"Her ladyship was gone abroad;
The captain too-he did not know
Whether he ought to stay or go;"
Begg'd she'd forgive him. In conclusion,
My lady, pitying his confusion,
Call'd her good nature to relieve him ;
Told him she thought she might believe him;
And would not only grant his suit,
But visit him and eat some fruit.
Provided at a proper time
He told the real truth in rhyme;
'Twas to no purpose to oppose,
She'd hear of no excuse in prose.
The doctor stood not to debate,
Glad to compound at any rate;
So bowing seemingly complied,
Though if he durst he had denied.
But first resolved to show his taste
Was too refined to give a feast,
He'd treat with nothing that was rare
But winding walks and purer air;
Would entertain without expense,
Or pride or vain magnificence:
For well he knew to such a guest
The plainest meals must be the best.
To stomachs clogg'd with costly fare
Simplicity alone is rare;
While high, and nice, and curious meats
Are really but vulgar treats.
Instead of spoils of Persian looms,
The costly boast of regal rooms,
Thought it more courtly and discreet
To scatter roses at her feet;
Roses of richest die, that shone
With native lustre, like her own;
Beauty that needs no aid of art
Through every sense to reach the heart.
The gracious dame, though well she knew
All this was much beneath her due,
Liked everything--at least thought fit
To praise it par manière d'acquit.
Yet she, though seeming pleased, can't bear
The scorching sun or chilling air;
Disturb'd alike at both extremes,
Whether he shows or hides his beams:
Though seeming pleased at all she sees,
Starts at the ruffling of the trees,
If
And scarce can speak for want of breath,
In half a walk fatigued to death.
The doctor takes his hint from hence,
T'apologize his late offence:
"Madam, the mighty power of use
Now strangely pleads in my excuse;
you unused have scarcely strength
To gain this walk's untoward length;
lf, frighten'd at a scene so rude,
Through long disuse of solitude;
If, long confined to fires and screens,
You dread the waving of these greens;
If you, who long have breathed the fumes
Of city fogs and crowded rooms,
Do now solicitously shun
The cooler air and dazzling sun;
If his majestic eye you flee,
Learn hence t' excuse and pity me.
Consider what it is to bear
The powder'd courtier's witty sneer;
THE BIRTH OF MANLY VIRTUE.
665
To see th' important man of dress
Scoffing my college awkwardness;
To be the strutting cornet's sport,
To run the gauntlet of the court,
Winning my way by slow approaches
Through crowds of coxcombs and of coaches,
From the first fierce cockaded sentry,
Quite through the tribe of waiting gentry;
To pass so many crowded stages,
And stand the staring of your pages;
And after all, to crown my spleen,
Be told-You are not to be seen ;'
Or, if you are, be forced to bear
The awe of your majestic air.
And can I then be faulty found
In dreading this vexatious round?
Can it be strange if I eschew
A scene so glorious and so new
Or is he criminal that flies
The living lustre of your eyes?"
?
THE BIRTH OF MANLY VIRTUE.
INSCRIBED TO LORD Carteret. 1724.
Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore Virtus.-VIRG.
ONCE on a time a righteous sage,
Grieved with the vices of the age,
Applied to Jove with fervent prayer-
"O, Jove, if Virtue be so fair
As it was deem'd in former days
By Plato and by Socrates,
Whose beauties mortal eyes escape,
Only for want of outward shape;
Make then its real excellence,
For once, the theme of human sense;
So shall the eye, by form confined,
Direct and fix the wandering mind,
And long-deluded mortals see
With rapture what they used to flee!"
Jove grants the prayer, gives Virtue birth,
And bids him bless and mend the earth.
Behold him blooming fresh and fair,
Now made-ye gods-a son and heir;
An heir and stranger yet to hear,
An heir, an orphan of a peer;
But prodigies are wrought to prove
Nothing impossible to Jove.
Virtue was for this sex design'd,
In mild reproof to womankind;
In manly form to let them see
The loveliness of modesty,
The thousand decencies that shone
With lessen'd lustre in their own;
Which few had learn'd enough to prize,
And some thought modish to despise.
To make his merit more discern'd,
He goes to school-he reads-is learn'd;
Raised high above his birth by knowledge,
He shines distinguish'd in a college;
Resolved nor honour, nor estate,
Himself alone should make him great.
Here soon for every art renown'd,
His influence is diffused around;
Th' inferior youth to learning led,
Less to be famed than to be fed,
Behold the glory he has won,
And blush to see themselves outdone :
And now, inflamed with rival rage,
In scientific strife engage,
Engage; and, in the glorious strife
The arts new kindle into life.
Here would our hero ever dwell,
Fix'd in a lonely learned cell:
Contented to be truly great
In Virtue's best beloved retreat;
Contented he-but Fate ordains
He now shall shine in nobler scenes,
Raised high, like some celestial fire,
To shine the more, still rising higher;
Completely form'd in every part,
To win the soul and glad the heart.
The powerful voice, the graceful mien,
Lovely alike, or heard, or seen;
The outward form and inward vie,
His soul bright beaming from his eye,
Ennobling every act and air,
With just, and generous, and sincere.
Accomplish'd thus, his next resort
Is to the council and the court,
Where Virtue is in least repute,
And interest the one pursuit;
Where right and wrong are bought and sold,
Barter'd for beauty and for gold;
Here Manly Virtue, even here,
Pleased in the person of a peer,
A peer; a scarcely bearded youth,
Who talk'd of justice and of truth,
Of innocence the surest guard,
Tales here forgot, or yet unheard:
That he alone deserved esteem
Who was the man he wish'd to seem;
Call'd it unmanly and unwise
To lurk behind a mean disguise;
(Give fraudful Vice the mask and skreen,
'Tis Virtue's interest to be seen ;)
Call'd want of shame a want of sense,
And found, in blushes, eloquence.
Thus acting what he taught so well,
He drew dumb merit from her cell,
Led with amazing art along
The bashful dame, and loosed her tongue;
And, while he made her value known,
Yet more display'd and rais'd his own.
Thus young, thus proof to all temptations,
He rises to the highest stations;
For where high honour is the prize
True Virtue has a right to rise:
Let courtly slaves low bend the knee
To Wealth and Vice in high degree;
Exalted worth disdains to owe
Its grandeur to its greatest foe.
Now raised on high, see Virtue shows
The godlike ends for which he rose ;
For him, let proud Ambition know
The height of glory here below,
Grandeur, by goodness made complete!
To bless, is truly to be great!
He taught how men to honour rise,
Like gilded vapours to the skies,
Which, howsoever they display
Their glory from the god of day,
Their noblest use is to abate
His dangerous excess of heat,
To shield the infant fruits and flowers,
And bless the earth with genial showers.
Now change the scene; a nobler care
Demands him in a higher sphere a
Distress of nations calls him hence,
Permitted so by Providence;
For models made to mend our kind
To no one clime should be confined;
And Manly Virtue, like the sun,
His course of glorious toils should run:
Alike diffusing in his flight
Congenial joy, and life, and light.
Pale Envy sickens, Error flies,
And Discord in his presence dies;
Lord Carteret had the honour of mediating peace for Sweden
with Denmark and with the czar.
666
THE INTELLIGENCER-EPISTLE TO LORD CARTERET.
Oppression hides with guilty dread,
And Merit rears her drooping head:
The arts revive, the valleys sing,
And winter softens into spring :
The wondering world, where'er he moves,
With new delight looks up and loves;
One sex consenting to admire,
Nor less the other to desire;
While he, though seated on a throne,
Confines his love to one alone;
The rest condemn'd with rival voice
Repining do applaud his choice.
Fame now reports the Western Isle
Is made his mansion for a while,
Whose anxious natives, night and day,
(Happy beneath his righteous sway,)
Weary the gods with ceaseless prayer
To bless him and to keep him there;
And claim it as a debt from Fate,
Too lately found, to lose him late.
ON PADDY'S CHARACTER OF THE
1729.
INTELLIGENCER.a
As a thorn-bush or oaken bough,
Stuck in an Irish cabin's brow,
Above the door, on country fair,
Betokens entertainment there
So bays on poets brows have been
Set, for a sign of wit within.
And as ill neighbours in the night
Pull down an alehouse bush for spite;
The laurel so, by poets worn,
Is by the teeth of Envy torn;
Envy, a canker-worm, which tears
Those sacred leaves that lightning spares.
And now, t'exemplify this moral:
Tom having earn'd a twig of laurel,
(Which, measured on his head, was found
Not long enough to reach half round,
But, like a girl's cockade, was tied,
A trophy, on his temple-side,)
Paddy repined to see him wear
This badge of honour in his hair;
And, thinking this cockade of wit
Would his own temples better fit,
Forming his Muse by Smedley's model,
Lets drive at Tom's devoted noddle,
Pelts him by turns with verse and prose,
Hums like a hornet at his nose.
At length presumes to vent his satire on
The dean, Tom's honour'd friend and patron.
The eagle in the tale, ye know,
Teased by a buzzing wasp below,
Took wing to Jove, and hoped to rest
Securely in the thunderer's breast:
In vain; even there, to spoil his nod,
The spiteful insect stung the god.
AN EPISTLE TO HIS EXCELLENCY
JOHN LORD CARTERET.
BY DR. DELANY. 1729.
Credis ob hoc, me, Pastor, opes fortasse rogare,
Propter quod, vulgus, crassaque turba rogat.
MART. Epig, Lib. ix.
THOU wise and learned ruler of our isle,
Whose guardian care can all her griefs beguile;
■
Dr. Sheridan was publisher of the "Intelligencer," a
weekly paper written principally by himself; but Dr. Swift
occasionally supplied him with a letter. Dr. Delany, piqued
at the approbation those papers received, attacked them vio- ·
When next your generous soul shall condescend
T' instruct or entertain your humble friend;
Whether, retiring from your weighty charge,
On some high theme you learnedly enlarge;
Of all the ways of wisdom reason well,
How Richlieu rose, and how Sejanus fell:
Or, when your brow less thoughtfully unbends,
Circled with Swift and some delighted friends;
When, mixing mirth and wisdom with your wine,
Like that your wit shall flow, your genius shine:
Nor with less praise the conversation guide
Than in the public councils you decide:
Or when the dean, long privileged to rail,
Asserts his friend with more impetuous zeal
You hear (whilst I sit by abash'd and mute)
With soft concessions shortening the dispute;
Then close with kind inquiries of my state,
"How are your tithes, and have they rose of late?
Why, Christ-Church is a pretty situation,
There are not many better in the nation!
This, with your other things, must yield you clear
Some six-at least five hundred pounds a-year.'
Suppose, at such a time, I took the freedom
To speak these truths as plainly as you read 'em ;
You shall rejoin, my lord, when I've replied,
And, if you please, my lady shall decide.
"My lord, I'm satisfied you meant me well,
And that I'm thankful all the world can tell;
But you'll forgive me if I own the event
Is short, is very short, of your intent:
At least, I feel some ills unfelt before,
My income less, and my expenses more."
"How, doctor! double vicar! double rector!
A dignitary with a city lecture! [what rent!
What glebes-what dues-what tithes-what fines-
Why, doctor!-will you never be content?"
"Would my good lord but cast up the account,
And see to what my revenues amount ;a
My titles ample; but my gains so small,
That one good vicarage is worth them all:
And very wretched, sure, is he that's double
In nothing but his titles and his trouble.
Add to this crying grievance, if you please,
My horses founder'd on Fermanah ways;
Ways of well-polish'd and well-pointed stone,
Where every step endangers every bone;
And, more to raise your pity and your wonder,
Two churches-twelve Hibernian miles asunder:
With complicated cures, I labour hard in,
Beside whole summers absent from-my garden!
But that the world would think I play'd the fool,
I'd change with Charley Grattan for his school.b
What fine cascades, what vistoes, might I make,
Fix'd in the centre of th' Iërnian lake!
There might I sail delighted, smooth and safe,
Beneath the conduct of my good sir Ralph :c
There's not a better steerer in the realm;
I hope, my lord, you'll call him to the helm.'
"Doctor-a glorious scheme to ease your grief?
When cures are cross, a school's a sure relief
You cannot fail of being happy there,
The lake will be the Lethe of your care:
The scheme is for your honour and your ease :
And, doctor, I'll promote it when you please.
Meanwhile, allowing things below your merit,
Yet, doctor, you've a philosophic spirit;
lently, both in conversation and in print; but unfortunately
stumbled on some of the numbers which the dean had written,
and all the world admired, which gave rise to these verses.
a Which calculation, according to Dr. Swift in his Vindica-
tion of Lord Carteret, scarcely exceeded 300l. a-year.
b A free school at Inniskillen, founded by Erasmus Smith,
esq.
Sir Ralph Gore, who had a villa in the lake of Erin.
AN EPISTLE UPON AN EPISTLE.
667
Your wants are few, and, like your income, small,
And you've enough to gratify them all:
You've trees, and fruits, and roots enough in store :
And what could a philosopher have more?
You cannot wish for coaches, kitchens, cooks—”
My lord, I've not enough to buy me books-
Or
pray, suppose my wants were all supplied,
Are there no wants I should regard beside?
Whose breast is so unmann'd as not to grieve,
Compass'd with miseries he can't relieve?
Who can be happy-who should wish to live,
And want the godlike happiness to give?
That I'm a judge of this you must allow :
I had it once-and I'm debarr'd it now.
Ask your own heart, my lord; if this be true,
Then how unblest am I how blest are you!"
""Tis true-but, doctor, let us waive all that-
Say, if had
you your wish, what you'd be at?”
"Excuse me, good my lord-I won't be sounded,
Nor shall your favour by my wants be bounded.
My lord, I challenge nothing as my due,
Nor is it fit I should prescribe to you.
Yet this might Symmachus himself avow,
(Whose rigid rules are antiquated now)—
My lord; I'd wish to pay the debts I owe-
I'd wish besides-to build, and to bestow."
AN EPISTLE
UPON AN EPISTLE FROM A CERTAIN DOCTOR TO A
CERTAIN GREAT LORD.
BEING A CHRISTMAS-BOX FOR DR. DELANY.
As Jove will not attend on less,
When things of more importance press,
You can't, grave sir, believe it hard
That you, a low Hibernian bard,
Should cool your heels awhile, and wait
Unanswer'd at your patron's gate;
And would my lord vouchsafe to grant
This one poor humble boon I want,
Free leave to play his secretary,
As Falstaff acted old king Harry;
I'd tell of yours in rhyme and print ;
Folks shrug, and cry, "There's nothing in't.
And, after several readings over,
It shines most in the marble cover.
How could so fine a taste dispense
With mean degrees of wit and sense?
Nor will my lord so far beguile
The wise and learned of our isle,
To make it pass upon the nation
By dint of his sole approbation.
The task is arduous, patrons find,
To warp the sense of all mankind,
Who think your Muse must first aspire,
Ere he advance the doctor higher.
You've cause to say he meant you well:
That you are thankful who can tell?
For still you're short (which grieves your spirit)
Of his intent: you mean, your merit.
Ah! quanto rectius, tu adepte,
Qui nil moliris tam inepte?
Smedley, thou Jonathan of Clogher,
"When thou thy humble lay dost offer
To Grafton's grace, with grateful heart,
Thy thanks and verse devoid of art-
Content with what his bounty gave,
No larger income dost thou crave.”
But you must have cascades, and all
Tërne's lake, for your canal,
Symmachus bishop of Rome, 499, made a decree that no
man should solicit for ccclesiastical preferment before the
death of the incumbent.
See the petition to the duke of Grafton.
Your vistoes, barges, and (a pox on
All pride!) our speaker for your coxon :a
It's pity that he can't bestow you
Twelve commoners in caps to row you.
Thus Edgar proud, in days of yore,
Held monarchs labouring at the oar;
And, as he pass'd, so swell'd the Dee,
Enraged, as Ern would do at thee.
How different is this from Smedley!
(His name is up, he may in bed lie),
"Who only asks some pretty cure,
In wholesome soil and ether pure:
The garden stored with artless flowers,
In either angle shady bowers;
No gay parterre with costly green
Must in the ambient hedge be seen;
But nature freely takes her course,
Nor fears from him ungrateful force;
No sheers to check her sprouting vigour,
Or shape the yews to antic figure."
But you, forsooth, your all must squander
On that poor spot, call'd Dell-ville, yonder;
And when you've been at vast expenses
In whims, parterres, canals, and fences,
Your assets fail, and cash is wanting;
Nor further buildings, further planting:
No wonder, when you raise and level,
Think this wall low, and that wall bevel.
Here a convenient box you found,
Which you demolish'd to the ground :
Then built, then took up with your arbour,
And set the house to Rupert Barber.
You sprang an arch which in a scurvy
Humour you tumbled topsy-turvy.
You change a circle to a square,
Then to a circle as you were :
Who can imagine whence the fund is,
That you quadrata change rotundis ?
To fame a temple you erect,
A Flora does the dome protect:
Mounts, walks, on high; and in a hollow
You place the Muses and Apollo ;
There shining 'midst his train, to grace
Your whimsical poetic place.
These stories were of old design'd
As fables but you have refined
The poets' mythologic dreams,
To real Muses, gods, and streams.
Who would not swear, when you contrive thus,
That you're Don Quixote redivivus?
Beneath, a dry canal there lies,
Which only winter's rain supplies.
O couldst thou, by some magic spell,
Hither convey St. Patrick's well! b
Here may it reassume its stream,
And take a greater Patrick's name!
If
your expenses rise so high,
What income can your wants supply?
Yet still your fancy you inherit-
A fund of such superior merit,
That you can't fail of more provision,
All by my lady's kind decision.
For, the more livings you can fish up,
You think you'll sooner be a bishop:
That could not be my lord's intent,
Nor can it answer the event.
Most think what has been heap'd on you
To other sort of folk was due:
Rewards too great for your flim-flams,
Epistles, riddles, epigrams.
* Alluding to Dr. Delany's choice of fixing in the island of
the lake of Erin, where sir Ralph Gore had a villa.
b Which had suddenly dried up.
668
A LIBEL ON DR. DELANY.
Though now your depth must not be sounded,
The time was when you'd have compounded
For less than Charley Grattan's school!
Five hundred pound a-year's no fool!
Take this advice then from your friend,
To your ambition put an end,
Be frugal, Pat: pay what you owe,
Before you build and you bestow.
Be modest; nor address your betters
With begging, vain, familiar letters.
A passage may be found,a I've heard,
In some old Greek or Latian bard,
Which says,
"Would crows in silence eat
Their offals, or their better meat,
Their generous feeders not provoking
By loud and inharmonious croaking,
They might, unhurt by Envy's claws,
Live on, and stuff to boot their maws.
A LIBEL
19
ON THE REV. DR. DELANY AND HIS EXCELLENCY
JOHN LORD CARTERET. 1729.
DELUDED mortals, whom the great
Choose for companions tête-à-tête ;
Who at their dinners, en famille,
Get leave to sit whene'er you will;
Then boasting tell us where you dined,
And how his lordship was so kind;
How many pleasant things he spoke,
And how you laugh'd at every joke:
Swear he's a most facetious man,
That you and he are cup and can;
You travel with a heavy load,
And quite mistake preferment's road.
Suppose my lord and you alone;
Hint the least interest of your own,
His visage drops, he knits his brow,
He cannot talk of business now:
Or, mention but a vacant post,
He'll turn it off with "Name your toast:"
Nor could the nicest artist paint
A countenance with more constraint.
For, as their appetites to quench,
Lords keep a pimp to bring a wench;
So men of wit are but a kind
Of panders to a vicious mind;
Who proper objects must provide
To gratify their lust of pride,
When, wearied with intrigues of state,
They find an idle hour to prate.
Then, shall you dare to ask a place,
You forfeit all your patron's grace,
And disappoint the sole design
For which he summon'd you to dine.
Thus Congreve spent in writing plays,
And one poor office, half his days:
While Montague, who claim'd the station
To be Mæcenas of the nation,
For poets open table kept,
But ne'er consider'd where they slept:
Himself, as rich as fifty Jews,
Was easy, though they wanted shoes;
And crazy Congreve scarce could spare
A shilling to discharge his chair:
Till prudence taught him to appeal
From Pæan's fire to party zeal;
Not owing to his happy vein
The fortunes of his later scene,
Took proper principles to thrive :
And so might every dunce alive.
Thus Steele, who own'd what others writ,
And flourish'd by imputed wit,
• Hor. lib. i. ep. xvii.
From perils of a hundred jails,
Withdrew to starve and die in Wales.
Thus Gay, the hare with many friends,
Twice seven long years the court attends:
Who, under tales conveying truth,
To virtue form'd a princely youth :a
Who paid his courtship with the crowd,
As far as modest pride allow'd;
Rejects a servile usher's place,
And leaves St. James's in disgrace.
Thus Addison, by lords caress'd
Was left in foreign lands distress'd;
Forgot at home, became for hire
A travelling tutor to a squire:
But wisely left the Muses' hill,
To business shaped the poet's quill,
Let all his barren laurels fade,
Took up himself the courtier's trade,
And, grown a minister of state,
Saw poets at his levee wait.
Hail, happy Pope! whose generous mind
Detesting all the statesman kind,
Contemning courts, at courts unseen,
Refused the visits of a queen.
A soul with every virtue fraught,
By sages, priests, or poets taught;
Whose filial piety excels
Whatever Grecian story tells:
A genius for all stations fit,
Whose meanest talent is his wit:
His heart too great, though fortune little,
To lick a rascal statesman's spittle;
Appealing to the nation's taste,
Above the reach of want is placed ;
By Homer dead was taught to thrive,
Which Homer never could alive;
And sits aloft on Pindus' head,
Despising slaves that cringe for bread.
True politicians only pay
For solid work, but not for play:
Nor ever choose to work with tools
Forged up in colleges and schools,
Consider how much more is due
To all their journeymen than you :
At table you can Horace quote;
They at a pinch can bribe a vote:
You show your skill in Grecian story;
But they can manage Whig and Tory:
You, as a critic, are so curious
To find a verse in Virgil spurious;
But they can smoke the deep designs
When Bolingbroke with Pulteney dines.
Besides, your patron may upbraid ye,
That you have got a place already;
An office for your talents fit,
To flatter, carve, and show your wit;
To snuff the lights and stir the fire,
And get a dinner for your hire.
What claim have you to place or pension?
He overpays in condescension.
But, reverend doctor, you we know
Could never condescend so low;
The viceroy, whom you now attend,
Would, if he durst, be more your friend;
Nor will in you those gifts despise
By which himself was taught to rise :
When he has virtue to retire,
He'll grieve he did not raise you higher,
And place you in a better station,
Although it might have pleased the nation.
This may be true-submitting still
To Walpole's more than royal will;
a William duke of Cumberland, son of George II.
A LIBEL ON DR. DELANY, &c.
669
And what condition can be worse?
He comes to drain a beggar's purse;
He comes to tie our chains on faster,
And show us England is our master :
Caressing knaves, and dunces wooing,
To make them work their own undoing.
What has he else to bait his traps,
Or bring his vermin in, but scraps?
The offals of a church distress'd;
A hungry vicarage at best;
Or some remote inferior post,
With forty pounds a-year at most?
;
But here again you interpose-
Your favourite lord is none of those
Who owe their virtues to their stations
And characters to dedications:
For, keep him in, or turn him out,
His learning none will call in doubt;
His learning, though a poet said it
Before a play, would lose no credit
Nor Pope would dare deny him wit,
Although to praise it Philips writ.
I own he hates an action base,
His virtues battling with his place:
Nor wants a nice discerning spirit
Betwixt a true and spurious merit;
Can sometimes drop a voter's claim,
And give up party to his fame.
I do the most that friendship can;
I hate the viceroy, love the man.
But
you, who till your fortune's made
Must be a sweetener by your trade,
Should swear he never meant us ill
We suffer sore against his will;
That, if we could but see his heart,
He would have chose a milder part:
We rather should lament his case,
Who must obey or lose his place.
Since this reflection slipp'd your pen,
Insert it when you write again
And to illustrate it, produce
This simile for his excuse:
"So, to destroy a guilty land,
An angel sent by Heaven's command,
While he obeys Almighty will,
Perhaps may feel compassion still;
And wish the task had been assign'd
To spirits of less gentle kind.”
But I, in politics grown old,
Whose thoughts are of a different mould,
Who from my soul sincerely hate
Both kings and ministers of state;
Who look on courts with stricter eyes
To see the seeds of vice arise;
Can lend you an allusion fitter,
Though flattering knaves may call it bitter;
Which, if you durst but give it place,
Would show you many a statesman's face:
Fresh from the tripod of Apollo,
I had it in the words that follow:
Take notice, to avoid offence,
I here except his excellence:
"So, to effect his monarch's ends,
From hell a viceroy devil ascends;
His budget with corruptions cramm'd,
The contributions of the damn'd;
Which with unsparing hand he strews
Through courts and senates as he goes;
And then at Beelzebub's black hall
Complains his budget was too small."
Your simile may better shine
In verse, but there is truth in mine.
For no imaginable things
Can differ more than gods and kings:
And statesmen, by ten thousand odds,
Are angels just as kings are gods.
TO DR. DELANY,
ON THE LIBELS WRITTEN AGAINST HIM.
Tanti tibi non sit opaci
1729.
Omnis arena Tagi.-Juv.
As some raw youth in country bred,
To arms by thirst of honour led,
When at a skirmish first he hears
The bullets whistling round his ears,
Will duck his head aside, will start,
And feel a trembling at his heart,
Till 'scaping oft without a wound
Lessens the terror of the sound;‹
Fly bullets now as thick as hops,
He runs into a cannon's chaps.
An author thus, who pants for fame,
Begins the world with fear and shame;
When first in print you see him dread
Each popgun levell'd at his head:
The lead yon critic's quill contains
Is destined to beat out his brains:
As if he heard loud thunders roll,
Cries, Lord have mercy on his soul!
Concluding that another shot
Will strike him dead upon the spot.
But when with squibbing, flashing, popping,
He cannot see one creature dropping;
That missing fire, or missing aim,
His life is safe, I mean his fame ;
The danger past, takes heart of grace,
And looks a critic in the face.
Though splendour gives the fairest mark
To poison'd arrows in the dark,
Yet in yourself when smooth and round,
They glance aside without a wound.
'Tis said, the gods tried all their art
How pain they might from pleasure part :
But little could their strength avail;
Both still are fasten'd by the tail :
Thus fame and censure with a tether
By fate are always link'd together.
Why will you aim to be preferr'd
In wit before the common herd;
And yet grow mortified and vex'd
To pay the penalty annex'd?
'Tis eminence makes envy rise ;
As fairest fruits attract the flies.
Should stupid libels grieve your mind,
You soon a remedy may find;
Lie down obscure like other folks
Below the lash of snarlers' jokes.
Their faction is five hundred odds ;
For every coxcomb lends them rods,
And sneers as learnedly as they,
Like females o'er their morning tea.
You say the Muse will not contain,
And write you must, or break a vein.
Then if you find the terms too hard,
No longer my advice regard :
But raise your fancy on the wing;
The Irish senate's praises sing;
How jealous of the nation's freedom,
And for corruptions how they weed 'em ;
How each the public good pursues,
How far their hearts from private views;
Make all true patriots, up to shoe-boys,
Huzza their brethren at the Blue-boys;
Thus grown a member of the club,
No longer dread the rage of Grub.
How oft am I for rhyme to seek!
To dress a thought I toil a week:
670
ON THE LIBELS AGAINST DR. DELANY.
And then how thankful to the town,
If all my pains will earn a crown!
While every critic can devour
My work and me in half an hour.
Would men of genius cease to write,
The rogues must die for want and spite;
Must die for want of food and raiment,
If scandal did not find them payment.
How cheerfully the hawkers cry
A satire, and the gentry buy!
While my hard-labour'd poem pines
Unsold upon the printer's lines.
A genius in the reverend gown
Must ever keep its owner down;
'Tis an unnatural conjunction,
And spoils the credit of the function.
Round all your brethren cast your eyes,
Point out the surest men to rise ;
That club of candidates in black,
The least deserving of the pack,
Aspiring, factious, fierce, and loud,
With grace and learning unendow'd,
Can turn their hands to every job,
The fittest tools to work for Bob;a
Will sooner coin a thousand lies
Than suffer men of parts to rise;
They crowd about preferment's gate,
And press you down with all their weight:
For as of old mathematicians
Were by the vulgar thought magicians,
So academic dull ale-drinkers
Pronounce all men of wit freethinkers.
Wit, as the chief of virtue's friends,
Disdains to serve ignoble ends.
Observe what loads of stupid rhymes
Oppress us in corrupted times;
What pamphlets in a court's defence
Show reason, grammar, truth, or sense?
For though the Muse delights in fiction,
She ne'er inspires against conviction.
Then keep your virtue still unmix'd,
And let not faction come betwixt:
By party-steps no grandeur climb at,
Though it would make you England's primate ;
First learn the science to be dull,
You then may soon your conscience lull;
If not, however seated high,
Your genius in your face will fly.
When Jove was from his teeming head
Of Wit's fair goddess brought to-bed,
There follow'd at his lying-in
For after-birth a sooterkin;
Which, as the nurse pursued to kill,
Attain'd by flight the Muses' hill,
There in the soil began to root,
And litter'd at Parnassus' foot.
From hence the critic vermin sprung,
With harpy claws and poisonous tongue:
Who fatten on poetic scraps,
Too cunning to be caught in traps.
Dame Nature, as the learned show,
Provides each animal its foe:
Hounds hunt the hare, the wily fox
Devours your geese, the wolf your flocks.
Thus Envy pleads a natural claim
To persecute the Muse's fame;
On poets in all times abusive,
From Homer down to Pope inclusive.
Yet what avails it to complain ?
You try to take revenge in vain.
A rat your utmost rage defies,
That safe behind the wainscot lies.
Sir Robert Walpole.
Say, did you ever know by sight
In cheese an individual mite?
Show me the same numeric flea
That bit your neck but yesterday :
You then may boldly go in quest
To find the Grub-street poet's nest ;
What sponging-house, in dread of jail,
Receives them while they wait for bail;
What alley they are nestled in,
To flourish o'er a cup of gin;
Find the last garret where they lay,
Or cellar where they starve to-day.
Suppose you have them all trepann'd,
With each a libel in his hand,
What punishment would you inflict?
Or call them rogues, or get them kick'd
These they have often tried before;
You but oblige them so much more:
Themselves would be the first to tell,
To make their trash the better sell.
You have been libell'd-Let us know
What fool officious told you so?
Will you regard the hawker's cries,
Who in his titles always lies?
Whate'er the noisy scoundrel says,
It might be something in your praise ;
And praise bestow'd in Grub-street rhymes
Would vex one more a thousand times.
Till critics blame, and judges praise,
The poet cannot claim his bays.
On me when dunces are satiric,
I take it for a panegyric.
Hated by fools, and fools to hate,
Be that my motto and my fate.
DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING A BIRTHDAY
SONG. 1729.
To form a just and finish'd piece,
Take twenty gods of Rome or Greece,
Whose godships are in chief request,
And fit your present subject best;
And, should it be your hero's case,
To have both male and female race,
Your business must be to provide
A score of goddesses beside.
Some call their monarchs sons of Saturn,
For which they bring a modern pattern;
Because they might have heard of one
Who often long'd to eat his son;
But this I think will not go down,
For here the father kept his crown.
Why, then, appoint him son of Jove,
Who met his mother in a grove;
To this we freely shall consent,
Well knowing what the poets meant;
And in their sense, 'twixt me and you,
It may be literally true.
Next, as the laws of verse require,
He must be greater than his sire;
For Jove, as every schoolboy knows,
Was able Saturn to depose ;
And sure no christian poet breathing
Would be more scrupulous than a heathen;
Or, if to blasphemy it tends,
That's but a trifle among friends.
Your hero now another Mars is,
Makes mighty armies turn their as:
Behold his glittering faulchion mow
Whole squadrons at a single blow;
While Victory, with wings outspread,
Flies, like an eagle, o'er his head;
His milk-white steed upon its haunches,
Or pawing into dead men's paunches;
DIRECTIONS FOR A BIRTHDAY SONG.
671
As Overton has drawn his sire,
Still seen o'er many an alehouse fire.
Then from his arm hoarse thunder rolls,
As loud as fifty mustard-bowls;
For thunder still his arm supplies,
And lightning always in his eyes.
They both are cheap enough in conscience,
And serve to echo rattling nonsense.
The rumbling words march fierce along,
Made trebly dreadful in your song.
Sweet poet, hired for birthday rhymes,
To sing of wars, choose peaceful times.
What though, for fifteen years and more,
Janus has lock'd his temple-door;
Though not a coffeehouse we read in
Has mention'd arms on this side Sweden;
Nor London Journals, nor the Postmen,
Though fond of warlike lies as most men ;
Thou still with battles stuff thy head full:
For, must thy hero not be dreadful?
Dismissing Mars, it next must follow
Your conqueror is become Apollo:
That he's Apollo is as plain as
That Robin Walpole is Mæcenas ;
But that he struts, and that he squints,
You'd know him by Apollo's prints.
Old Phoebus is but half as bright,
For yours can shine both day and night.
The first, perhaps, may once an age
Inspire you with poetic rage;
Your Phoebus royal, every day,
Not only can inspire, but pay.
Then make this new Apollo sit
Sole patron, judge, and god of wit.
"How from his altitude he stoops
To raise up Virtue when she droops;
On Learning how his bounty flows,
And with what justice he bestows;
Fair Isis, and ye banks of Cam!
Be witness if I tell a flam,
What prodigies in arts we drain,
From both your streams, in George's reign.
As from the flowery bed of Nile”.
But here's enough to show your style.
Broad innuendoes, such as this,
If well applied, can hardly miss:
For, when you bring your song in print,
He'll get it read and take the hint;
(It must be read before 'tis warbled,
The paper gilt and cover marbled ;)
And will be so much more your debtor,
Because he never knew a letter.
And, as he hears his wit and sense
(To which he never made pretence)
Set out in hyperbolic strains,
A guinea shall reward your pains;
For patrons never pay so well
As when they scarce have learn'd to spell.
Next call him Neptune with his trident
He rules the sea: you see him ride in't;
And, if provoked, he soundly firks his
Rebellious waves with rods, like Xerxes.
He would have seized the Spanish plate,
Had not the fleet gone out too late;
And in their very ports besiege them,
But that he would not disoblige them;
And make the rascals pay him dearly
For those affronts they give him yearly.
'Tis not denied that, when we write,
Our ink is black, our paper white;
And, when we scrawl our paper o'er,
We blacken what was white before:
I think this practice only fit
For dealers in satiric wit.
But you some white-lead ink must get,
And write on paper black as jet;
Your interest lies to learn the knack
Of whitening what before was black.
Thus your encomium, to be strong,
Must be applied directly wrong,
A tyrant for his mercy praise,
And crown a royal dunce with bays;
A squinting monkey load with charms,
And paint a coward fierce in arms.
Is he to avarice inclined?
Extol him for his generous mind:
And, when we starve for want of corn,
Come out with Amalthea's horn:
For all experience this evinces
The only art of pleasing princes:
For princes love you should descant
On virtues which they know they want.
One compliment I had forgot,
But songsters must omit it not;
I freely grant the thought is old:
Why, then, your hero must be told
In him such virtues lie inherent
To qualify him God's vicegerent,
That, with no title to inherit,
He must have been a king by merit.
Yet, be the fancy old or new,
'Tis partly false and partly true:
And, take it right, it means no more
Than George and William claim'd before.
Should some obscure inferior fellow,
Like Julius, or the youth of Pella,
When all your list of gods is out,
Presume to show his mortal snout,
And as a Deity intrude,
Because he had the world subdued;
O, let him not debase your thoughts,
Or name him but to tell his faults.-
Of gods I only quote the best,
But you may hook in all the rest.
;
Now, birthday bard, with joy proceed
To praise your empress and her breed ;
First of the first, to vouch your lies,
Bring all the females of the skies
The Graces, and their mistress, Venus,
Must venture down to entertain us;
With bended knees when they adore her,
What dowdies they appear before her!
Nor shall we think you talk at random,
For Venus might be her great-grandam :
Six thousand years has lived the goddess,
Your heroine hardly fifty odd is ;
;
Besides, your songsters oft have shown
That she has graces of her own:
Three graces by Lucina brought her,
Just three, and every grace a daughter;
Here many a king his heart and crown
Shall at their snowy feet lay down:
In royal robes they come by dozens
To court their English-German cousins:
Beside a pair of princely babies,
That, five years hence, will both be Hebes.
Now see her seated in her throne
With genuine lustre, all her own:
Poor Cynthia never shone so bright,
Her splendour is but borrow'd light;
And only with her brother link'd
Can shine-without him is extinct;
But Carolina shines the clearer
With neither spouse nor brother near her;
And darts her beams o'er both our isles,
Though George is gone a thousand miles.
Thus Berecynthia takes her place,
Attended by her heavenly race;
672
DIRECTIONS FOR A BIRTHDAY SONG-THE PHEASANT AND THE LARK.
And sees a son in every god,
Unawed by Jove's all-shaking nod.
Now sing his little highness Freddy,
Who struts like any king already :
With so much beauty, show me any maid
That could resist this charming Ganymede!
Where majesty with sweetness vies,
And, like his father, early wise.
Then cut him out a world of work,
To conquer Spain and quell the Turk:
Foretel his empire crown'd with bays,
And golden times, and halcyon days;
And swear his line shall rule the nation
For ever-till the conflagration.
But, now it comes into my mind,
We left a little duke behind ;
A Cupid in his face and size,
And only wants, to want his eyes.
Make some provision for the yonker,
Find him a kingdom out to conquer:
Prepare a fleet to waft him o'er,
Make Gulliver his commodore;
Into whose pocket valiant Willy put,
Will soon subdue the realm of Lilliput.
A skilful critic justly blames
Hard, tough, crank, guttural, harsh, stiff names.
The sense can ne'er be too jejune,
But smooth your words to fit the tune.
Hanover may do well enough,
But George and Brunswick are too rough;
Hesse-Darmstadt makes a rugged sound,
And Guelph the strongest ear will wound.
In vain are all attempts from Germany
To find out proper words for harmony:
And yet I must except the Rhine,
Because it clinks to Caroline.
Hail, queen of Britain, queen of rhymes!
Be sung ten hundred thousand times.
Too happy were the poet's crew
If their own happiness they knew :
Three syllables did never meet
So soft, so sliding, and so sweet:
Nine other tuneful words like that
Would prove even Homer's numbers flat.
Behold three beauteous vowels stand,
With bridegroom liquids, hand in hand;
In concord here for ever fix'd,
No jarring consonant betwixt.
May Caroline continue long,
For ever fair and young!-in song.
What though the royal carcase must,
Squeezed in a coffin, turn to dust?
Those elements her name compose,
Like atoms, are exempt from blows.
Though Caroline may fill your gaps,
Yet still you must consult your maps,
Find rivers with harmonious names,
Sabrina, Medway, and the Thames.
Britannia long will wear like steel,
But Albion's cliffs are out at heel
And Patience can endure no more
To hear the Belgic lion roar.
Give up the phrase of haughty Gaul,
But proud Iberia soundly maul:
Restore the ships by Philip taken,
And make him crouch to save his bacon.
Nassau, who got the name of Glorious,
Because he never was victorious,
A hanger-on has always been;
For old acquaintance bring him in.
To Walpole you might lend a line,
But much I fear he's in decline;
And if you chance to come too late,
When he goes out you share his fate,
And bear the new successor's frown;
Or, whom you once sang up, sing down.
Reject with scorn that stupid notion,
To praise your hero for devotion;
Nor entertain a thought so odd
That princes should believe in God;
But follow the securest rule,
And turn it all to ridicule :
'Tis grown the choicest wit at court,
And gives the maids of honour sport;
For, since they talk'd with doctor Clarke,
They now can venture in the dark:
That sound divine the truth has spoke all,
And pawn'd his word, hell is not local.
This will not give them half the trouble
Of bargains sold or meanings double.
Supposing now your song is done,
To Mynheer Handel next you run,
Who artfully will pare and prune
Your words to some Italian tune:
Then print it in the largest letter,
With capitals, the more the better.
Present it boldly on your knee,
And take a guinea for your fee.
THE PHEASANT AND THE LARK.
1730.
A FABLE BY DR. DELANY.
-Quis iniquæ
Tam patiens urbis, tam ferrous, ut teneat se?-Juv.
IN ancient times, as 'bards indite,
(If clerks have conn'd the records right,)
A peacock reign'd, whose glorious sway
His subjects with delight obey:
His tail was beauteous to behold,
Replete with goodly eyes and gold ;
Fair emblem of that monarch's guise,
Whose train at once is rich and wise
And princely ruled he many regions,
And statesmen wise, and valiant legions.
;
A pheasant lord [lord Carteret], above the rest
With every grace and talent bless'd,
Was sent to sway, with all his skill,.
The sceptre of a neighbouring hill [Ireland].
No science was to him unknown,
For all the arts were all his own:
In all the living learned read,
Though more delighted with the dead:
For birds, if ancient tales say true,
Had then their Popes and Homers too;
Could read and write in prose and verse,
And speak like ***, and build like Pearce,ª
He knew their voices and their wings,
Who smoothest soars, who sweetest sings;
Who toils with ill-fledged pens to climb,
And who attain’d the true sublime.
Their merits he could well descry,
He had so exquisite an eye;
And when that fail'd to show them clear,
He had as exquisite an ear.
It chanced, as on a day he stray'd
Beneath an academic shade,
He liked, amidst a thousand throats,
The wildness of a woodlark's [Dr. Delany] notes,
And search'd, and spied, and seized his game,
And took him home, and made him tame;
Found him on trial true and able,
So cheer'd and fed him at his table.
Here some shrewd critic finds I'm caught,
And cries out, "Better fed than taught"-
Then jests on game and tame, and reads
And jests, and so my tale proceeds.
Long had he studied in the wood,
Conversing with the wise and good:
• A famous modern architect.
THE PHEASANT AND LARK-THE ANSWER.
673
His soul with harmony inspired,
With love of truth and virtue fired:
His brethren's good and Maker's praise
Were all the study of his lays;
Were all his study in retreat,
And now employed him with the great.
His friendship was the sure resort
Of all the wretched at the court;
But chiefly merit in distress
His greatest blessing was to bless.-
This fix'd him in his patron's breast,
But fired with envy all the rest :
I mean that noisy, craving crew,
Who round the court incessant flew,
And prey'd like rooks, by pairs and dozens,
To fill the maws of sons and cousins :
"Unmoved their heart, and chill'd their blood,
To every thought of common good,
Confining every hope and care,
To their own low, contracted sphere."
These ran him down with ceaseless cry,
But found it hard to tell you why,
Till his own worth and wit supplied
Sufficient matter to deride :
"'Tis envy's safest, surest rule,
To hide her rage in ridicule :
The vulgar eye she best beguiles,
When all her snakes are deck'd with smiles:
Sardonic smiles, by rancour raised!
Tormented most when seeming pleased!"
Their spite had more than half expired,
Had he not wrote what all admired
;
What morsels had their malice wanted,
But that he built, and plann'd, and planted!
How had his sense and learning grieved them,
But that his charity relieved them!
"At highest worth dull malice reaches,
As slugs pollute the fairest peaches;
Envy defames, as harpies vile
Devour the food they first defile."
Now ask the fruit of all his favour-
"He was not hitherto a saver.'
What then could make their rage run mad?
"Why, what he hoped, not what he had.
"What tyrant e'er invented ropes,
Or racks, or rods, to punish hopes?
Th' inheritance of hope and fame
Is seldom Earthly Wisdom's aim
Or if it were, is not so small,
But there is room enough for all.”
;
If he but chance to breathe a song,
(He seldom sang, and never long,)
The noisy, rude, malignant crowd,
Where it was high, pronounced it loud :
Plain Truth was Pride; and, what was sillier,
Easy and Friendly was Familiar.
Or if he tuned his lofty lays,
With solemn air to Virtue's praise,
Alike abusive and erroneous,
They call'd it hoarse and inharmonious.
Yet so it was to souls like theirs,
Tuneless as Abel to the bears!
A Rook [Dr. T-r] with harsh malignant caw
Began, was follow'd by a Daw;a
(Though some, who would be thought to know,
Are positive it was a crow ;)
Jack Daw was seconded by Tit,
Tom Tit could write, and so he writ;
A tribe of tuneless praters follow,
The Jay, the Magpie, and the Swallow;
And twenty more their throats let loose,
Down to the witless, waddling Goose.
B
Right hon. Rich, Tighe.
VOL. I.
Dr. Sheridan
Some peck'd at him, some flew, some flutter'd,
Some hiss'd, some scream'd, and others mutte.
The Crow, on carrion wont to feast,
The Carrion Crow, condemn'd his taste:
The Rook, in earnest too, not joking,
Swore all his singing was but croaking.
Some thought they meant to show their wit,
Might think so still-" but that they writ"-
Could it be spite or envy?" No-
Who did no ill could have no foe."-
So wise Simplicity esteem'd;
Quite otherwise True Wisdom deem'd:
This question rightly understood,
"What more provokes than doing good?
A soul ennobled and refined
Reproaches every baser mind:
As strains exalted and melodious
Make every meaner music odious.”
At length the Nightingaleª was heard,
For voice and wisdom long revered,
Esteem'd of all the wise and good,
The Guardian Genius of the wood:
He long in discontent retired,
Yet not obscured, but more admired:
His brethren's servile souls disdaining,
He lived indignant and complaining:
They now afresh provoke his choler
(It seems the Lark had been his scholar,
À favourite scholar always near him,
And oft had waked whole nights to hear him).
Enraged he canvasses the matter,
Exposes all their senseless chatter,
Shows him and them in such a light,
As more inflames, yet quells their spite.
They hear his voice, and frighted fly,
For rage had raised it very high:
Shamed by the wisdom of his notes,
They hide their heads, and hush their throats.
ANSWER TO DR. DELANY'S FABLE OF
THE PHEASANT AND LARK.
IN ancient times the wise were able
In proper terms to write a fable:
Their tales would always justly suit
The characters of every brute.
The ass was dull, the lion brave,
The stag was swift, the fox a knave;
The daw a thief, the ape a droll,
The hound would scent, the wolf would prowl:
A pigeon would, if shown by Æsop,
Fly from the hawk, or pick his pease up.
Far otherwise a great divine
Has learnt his fables to refine
;
He jumbles men and birds together,
As if they all were of a feather:
You see him first the Peacock bring,
Against all rules to be a king;
That in his tail he wore his eyes,
By which he grew both rich and wise.
Now pray observe the doctor's choice,
A Peacock chose for flight and voice;
Did ever mortal see a peacock
Attempt a flight above a haycock ?
And for his singing, doctor, you know,
Himself complain'd of it to Juno.
He squalls in such a hellish noise,
He frightens all the village boys.
This Peacock kept a standing force,
In regiments of foot and horse:
Had statesmen too of every kind,
Who waited on his eyes behind;
a Dean Swift.
2 x
674
ANSWER TO PHEASANT AND LARK-DEAN SMEDLEY'S PETITION
And this was thought the highest post;
For, rule the rump, you rule the roast.
The doctor names but one at present,
And he of all birds was a Pheasant.
This Pheasant was a man of wit,
Could read all books were ever writ;
And, when among companions privy,
Could quote you Cicero and Livy.
Birds, as he says, and I allow,
Were scholars then, as we are now;
Could read all volumes up to folios,
And feed on fricassees and olios:
This Pheasant, by the Peacock's will,
Was viceroy of a neighbouring hill;
And, as he wander'd in his park,
He chanced to spy a clergy Lark ;
Was taken with his person outward,
So prettily he pick'd a cow-t-d:
Then in a net the Pheasant caught him,
And in his palace fed and taught him.
The moral of the tale is pleasant,
Himself the Lark, my lord the Pheasant:
A lark he is, and such a lark
As never came from Noah's ark :
And though he had no other notion,
But building, planning, and devotion;
Though 'tis a maxim you must know,
"Who does no ill can have no foe;"
Yet how can I express in words
The strange stupidity of birds?
This Lark was hated in the wood,
Because he did his brethren good.
At last the Nightingale comes in,
To hold the doctor by the chin :
We all can find out what he means,
The worst of disaffected deans:
Whose wit at best was next to none,
And now that little next is gone;
Against the court is always blabbing,
And calls the senate-house a cabin
So dull, that but for spleen and spite,
We ne'er should know that he could write;
Who thinks the nation always err'd,
Because himself is not preferr'd;
His heart is through his libel seen,
Nor could his malice spare the queen;
Who, had she known his vile behaviour,
Would ne'er have shown him so much favour.
;
A noble lorda has told his pranks,
And well deserves the nation's thanks.
O! would the senate deign to show
Resentment on this public foe,
Our Nightingale might fit a cage ;
There let him starve, and vent his rage:
Or would they but in fetters bind
This enemy of human kind!
Harmonious Coffee," show thy zeal,
Thou champion for the common weal:
Nor on a theme like this repine,
For once to wet thy pen divine:
Bestow that libeller a lash,
Who daily vends seditious trash :
Who dares revile the nation's wisdom,
But in the praise of virtue is dumb:
That scribbler lash, who neither knows
The turn of verse, nor style of prose;
Whose malice, for the worst of ends,
Would have us love our English friends;
Who never had one public thought,
Nor ever gave the poor a groat.
One clincher more, and I have done,
I end my labours with a pun.
"Lord Allen, the same who is meant by Traulus.
A Dublin garretteer.
Jove send this Nightingale may fall,
Who spends his day and night in gall!
So, Nightingale and Lark, adieu;
I see the greatest owls in you
That ever screech'd, or ever flew.
DEAN SMEDLEY'S PETITION TO THE
DUKE OF GRAFTON.
Non domus aut fundus-
Hor.
THIS piece is repeatedly and always satirically alluded to in
the preceding poems.
IT was, my lord, the dexterous shift
Of t'other Jonathan, viz. Swift,
But now St. Patrick's saucy dean,
With silver verge, and surplice clean,
Of Oxford or of Ormond's grace,
In looser rhyme to beg a place.
A place he got, yclept a stall,
And eke a thousand pound withal;
And were he less a witty writer,
He might as well have got a mitre.
Thus I, the Jonathan of Clogher,
In humble grace my thanks to offer,
Approach your grace with grateful heart,
My thanks and verse both void of art,
Content with what your bounty gave,
No larger income do I crave:
Rejoicing that, in better times,
Grafton requires my loyal lines.
Proud! while my patron is polite,
I likewise to the patriot write!
Proud! that at once I can commend
King George's and the Muses' friend!
Endear'd to Britain; and to thee
(Disjoin'd Hibernia, by the sea)
Endear'd by twice three anxious years,
Employ'd in guardian toils and cares;
By love, by wisdom, and by skill;
For he has saved thee 'gainst thy will.
But where shall Smedley make his uest,
And lay his wandering head to rest?
Where shall he find a decent house,
To treat his friends and cheer his spouse?
O! tack, my lord, some pretty cure,
In wholesome soil and ether pure;
The garden stored with artless flowers,
In either angle shady bowers.
No gay parterre, with costly green,
Within the ambient hedge be seen:
Let Nature freely take her course,
Nor fear from me ungrateful force;
No shears shall check her sprouting vigour,
Nor shape the yews to antic figure;
A limpid brook shall trout supply,
In May, to take the mimic fly;
Round a small orchard may it run,
Whose apples redden to the sun.
Let all be snug, and warm, and neat;
For fifty turn'd a safe retreat,
A little Euston » may it be,
Euston I'll carve on every tree.
But then, to keep it in repair,
My lord twice fifty pounds a-year
Will barely do; but if your grace
Could make them hundreds-charming place'
Thou then would'st show another face.
Clogher! far north, my lord, it lies,
'Midst snowy hills, inclement skies:
One shivers with the arctic wind,
One hears the polar axis grind.
Good Johnb indeed, with beef and claret,
Makes the place warm, that one may bear it.
a The name of the duke's seat in Suffolk,
Bishop Sterne.
THE DUKE'S ANSWER-PARODY ON SMEDLEY.
675
He has a purse to keep a table,
And eke a soul as hospitable.
My heart is good, but assets fail,
To fight with storms of snow and hail.
Besides, the country's thin of people,
Who seldom meet but at the steeple:
The strapping dean, that's gone to Down,
Ne'er named the thing without a frown,
When, much fatigued with sermon study,
He felt his brain grow dull and muddy;
No fit companion could be found
To push the lazy bottle round:
Sure then, for want of better folks
To pledge, his clerk was orthodox.
Ah! how unlike to Gerard-street,
Where beaux and belles in parties meet;
Where gilded chairs and coaches throng,
And jostle as they troll along;
Where tea and coffee hourly flow,
And gapeseed does in plenty grow;
And Griz (no clock more certain) cries,
Exact at seven, "Hot mutton-pies!"
There lady Luna in her sphere
Once shone, when Paunceforth was not near;
But now she wanes, and, as 'tis said,
Keeps sober hours, and goes to bed.
There-but 'tis endless to write down
All the amusements of the town;
And spouse will think herself quite undone,
To trudge to Connor a from sweet London;
And care we must our wives to please,
Or else we shall be ill at ease.
You see, my lord, what 'tis I lack,
'Tis only some convenient tack,
Some parsonage-house with garden sweet,
To be my late, my last retreat;
A decent church, close by its side;
There preaching, praying, to reside;
And as my time securely rolls
To save my own and other souls.
THE DUKE'S ANSWER.
BY DR. SWIFT.
DEAR Smed, I read thy brilliant lines,
Where wit in all its glory shines;
Where compliments, with all their pride,
Are by their numbers dignified:
I hope to make you yet as clean
As that same Viz, St. Patrick's dean.
I'll give thee surplice, verge, and stall,
And may be something else withal;
And, were you not so good a writer,
I should present you with a mitre.
Write worse, then, if you can—be wise-
Believe me, 'tis the way to rise.
Talk not of making of thy nest:
Ah! never lay thy head to rest!
That head so well with wisdom fraught,
That writes without the toil of thought!
While others rack their busy brains,
You are not in the least at pains.
Down to your dean'ry new repair,
And build a castle in the air.
I'm sure a man of your fine sense
Can do it with a small expense.
There your dear spouse and you together
May breathe your bellies full of ether,
When lady Luna is your neighbour,
She'll help your wife when she's in labour;
Well skill'd in midwife artifices,
For she herself oft falls in pieces.
The bishopric of Connor is united to that of Down; but
there are two deans.
There you shall see a raree show
Will make you scorn this world below,
When you behold the milky-way,
As white as snow, as bright as day;
The glittering constellations roll
About the grinding arctic pole;
The lovely tingling in your ears,
Wrought by the music of the spheres-
Your spouse shall then no longer hector,
You need not fear a curtain-lecture;
Nor shall she think that she is undone
For quitting her beloved London.
When she's exalted in the skies,
She'll never think of mutton-pies;
When you're advanced above dean Viz,
You'll never think of Goody Griz;
But ever, ever live at ease,
And strive, and strive your wife to please;
In her you'll centre all your joys,
And get ten thousand girls and boys;
Ten thousand girls and boys you'll get,
And they like stars shall rise and set,
While you and spouse, transform'd, shall soon
Be a new sun and a new moon:
Nor shall you strive your horns to hide,
For then your horns shall be your pride.
PARODY
ON A CHARACTER OF DEAN SMEDLEY,
Written in Latin by himself.
THE very reverend dean Smedley,
Of dulness, pride, conceit, a medley,
Was equally allow'd to shine
As poet, scholar, and divine;
With godliness could well dispense,
Would be a rake, but wanted sense;
Would strictly after Truth inquire,
Because he dreaded to come nigh her.
For Liberty no champion bolder,
He hated bailiffs at his shoulder.
To half the world a standing jest,
A perfect nuisance to the rest;
From many (and we may believe him)
Had the best wishes they could give him.
To all mankind a constant friend,
Provided they had cash to lend.
One thing he did before he went hence,
He left us a laconic sentence,
By cutting of his phrase, and trimming,
To prove that bishops were old women.
Poor Envy durst not show her phiz,
She was so terrified at his.
He waded, without any shame,
Through thick and thin to get a name,
Tried every sharping trick for bread,
And after all he seldom sped.
When Fortune favour'd, he was nice;
He never once would cog the dice;
But, if she turn'd against his play,
He knew to stop à quatre trois.
Now sound in mind, and sound in corpus,
(Says he) though swell'd like any porpoise,
He hies from hence at forty-four
(But by his leave he sinks a score)
To the East Indies, there to cheat,
Till he can purchase an estate;
Where, after he has fill'd his chest,
He'll mount his tub and preach his best,
And plainly prove, by dint of text,
This world is his, and theirs the next.
Lest that the reader should not know
The bank where last he set his toe,
2 x 2
676
CADENUS AND VANESSA.
'Twas Greenwich.
There he took a ship,
And gave his creditors the slip.
But lest chronology should vary,
Upon the ides of February,
In seventeen hundred eight-and-twenty,
To Fort St. George, a pedler went he.
Ye Fates, when all he gets is spent,
RETURN HIM BEGGAR AS HE WENT!
CADENUS AND VANESSA.a
Written at Windsor, 1713.
THE shepherds and the nymphs were seen
Pleading before the Cyprian queen.
The counsel for the fair began,
Accusing the false creature Man.
The brief with weighty crimes was charged,
On which the pleader much enlarged;
That Cupid now has lost his art,
Or blunts the point of every dart;-
His altar now no longer smokes,
His mother's aid no youth invokes:
This tempts freethinkers to refine,
And bring in doubt their powers divine;
Now love is dwindled to intrigue,
And marriage grown a money league;
Which crimes aforesaid (with her leave)
Were (as he humbly did conceive)
Against our sovereign lady's peace,
Against the statute in that case,
Against her dignity and crown :
Then pray'd an answer, and sat down.
The nymphs with scorn beheld their foes;
When the defendant's counsel rose,
And, what no lawyer ever lack'd,
With impudence own'd all the fact:
But, what the gentlest heart would vex,
Laid all the fault on t'other sex.
That modern love is no such thing
As what those ancient poets sing :
A fire celestial, chaste, refined,
Conceived and kindled in the mind;
Which, having found an equal flame,
Unites, and both become the same,
In different breasts together burn,
Together both to ashes turn.
But women now feel no such fire,
And only know the gross desire.
Their passions move in lower spheres,
Where'er caprice or folly steers,
A dog, a parrot, or an ape,
Or some worse brute in human shape,
Engross the fancies of the fair,
The few soft moments they can spare,
From visits to receive and pay,
From scandal, politics, and play;
From fans, and flounces, and brocades,
From equipage and park parades,
From all the thousand female toys,
From every trifle that employs
The out or inside of their heads,
Between their toilets and their beds.
In a dull stream, which moving slow,
You hardly see the current flow;
If a small breeze obstruct the course,
It whirls about for want of force,
And in its narrow circle gathers
Nothing but chaff, and straws, and feathers.
The current of a female mind
Stops thus, and turns with every wind:
a This is thought to be one of Dr. Swift's correctest pieces.
Its chief merit, indeed, is the elegant ease with which a story,
but ill conceived in itself, is told.-GOLDSMITH.
Miss Vanhomrigh, daughter to Mr. Bartholomew Vanhom-
righ, a Dutch merchant in Dublin.
Thus whirling round together draws
Fools, fops, and rakes, for chaff and straws.
Hence we conclude, no women's hearts
Are won by virtue, wit, and parts:
Nor are the men of sense to blame,
For breasts incapable of flame;
The faults must on the nymphs be placed,
Grown so corrupted in their taste.
The pleader having spoke his best,
Had witness ready to attest,
Who fairly could on oath depose,
When questions on the fact arose,
That every article was true;
Nor further those deponents knew:
Therefore he humbly would insist
The bill might be with costs dismiss'd.
The cause appear'd with so much weight,
That Venus, from her judgment seat,
Desired them not to talk so loud,
Else she must interpose a cloud:
For if the heavenly folks should know
These pleadings in the courts below,
That mortals here disdain to love,
She ne'er could show her face above;
For gods, their betters, are too wise
To value that which men despise.
And then, said she, my son and I
Must stroll in air, 'twixt land and sky;
Or else, shut out from heaven and earth,
Fly to the sea, my place of birth:
There live with daggled mermaids pent,
And keep on fish perpetual Lent.
But since the case appear'd so nice,
She thought it best to take advice.
The Muses, by the king's permission,
Though foes to love attend the session,
And on the right hand took their places
In order; on the left, the Graces:
To whom she might her doubts propose
On all emergencies that rose.
The Muses oft were seen to frown;
The Graces half ashamed looked down;
And 'twas observed, there were but few
Of either sex among the crew,
Whom she or her assessors knew.
The goddess soon began to see
Things were not ripe for a decree;
And said, she must consult her books,
The lovers' Fletas, Bractons, Cokes.
First to a dapper clerk she beckon'd
To turn to Ovid, book the second:
She then referr'd them to a place
In Virgil, vide Dido's case:
As for Tibullus's reports,
They never pass'd for law in courts
For Cowley's briefs, and pleas of Waller,
Still their authority was smaller.
There was on both sides much to say:
She'd hear the cause another day ;
And so she did; and then a third ;
She heard it-there she kept her word:
But, with rejoinders or replies,
Long bills, and answers stuff'd with lies,
Demur, imparlance, and essoign,
The parties ne'er could issue join :
For sixteen years the cause was spun,
And then stood where it first begun.
Now, gentle Clio, sing or say
What Venus meant by this delay?
The goddess much perplex'd in mind
To see her empire thus declined,
When first this grand debate arose,
Above her wisdom to compose,
CADENUS AND VANESSA.
677
Conceived a project in her head
Her soul was suddenly endued
To work her ends; which, if it sped,
Would show the merits of the cause
Far better than consulting laws.
In a glad hour Lucina's aid
Produced on earth a wondrous maid,
On whom the queen of Love was bent
To try a new experiment.
She threw her law-books on the shelf,
And thus debated with herself.
Since men allege they ne'er can find
Those beauties in a female mind,
Which raise a flame that will endure
For ever uncorrupt and pure;
If 'tis with reason they complain,
This infant shall restore my reign.
I'll search where every virtue dwells,
From courts inclusive down to cells:
What preachers talk, or sages write;
These will I gather and unite,
And represent them to mankind
Collected in that infant's mind.
This said, she plucks in heaven's high bowers
A sprig of amaranthine flowers.
In nectar thrice infuses bays,
Three times refined in Titan's rays;
Then calls the Graces to her aid,
And sprinkles thrice the newborn maid:
From whence the tender skin assumes
A sweetness above all perfumes:
From whence a cleanliness remains,
Incapable of outward stains:
From whence that decency of mind
So lovely in the female kind,
Where not one careless thought intrudes;
Less modest than the speech of prudes;
Where never blush was call'd in aid,
That spurious virtue in a maid,
A virtue but at second-hand;
They blush because they understand.
The Graces next would act their part,
And show'd but little of their art;
Their work was half already done,
The child with native beauty shone;
The outward form no help required :
Each, breathing on her thrice, inspired
That gentle, soft, engaging air,
Which in old times adorn'd the fair:
And said, "Vanessa be the name
By which thou shalt be known to fame :
Vanessa, by the gods enroll'd:
Her name on earth shall not be told."
But still the work was not completc;
When Venus thought on a deceit.
Drawn by her doves, away she flies,
And finds out Pallas in the skies.
Dear Pallas, I have been this morn
To see a lovely infant born:
A boy in yonder isle below,
So like my own without his bow,
By beauty could your heart be won,
You'd swear it is Apollo's son;
But it shall ne'er be said, a child
So hopeful has by me been spoil'd:
I have enough besides to spare,
And give him wholly to your care.
Wisdom's above suspecting wiles;
The queen of Learning gravely smiles,
Down from Olympus comes with joy,
Mistakes Vanessa for a boy;
Then sows within her tender mind
Seeds long unknown to womankind
For manly bosoms chiefly fit,
The seeds of knowledge, judgment, wit.
With justice, truth, and fortitude:
With honour which no breath can stain,
Which malice must attack in vain
;
With open heart and bounteous hand.
But Pallas here was at a stand
She knew in our degenerate days,
Bare virtue could not live on praise;
That meat must be with money bought :
She therefore upon second thought,
Infused, yet as it were by stealth,
Some small regard for state and wealth;
Of which, as she grew up, there staid
A tincture in the prudent maid:
She managed her estate with care,
Yet liked three footmen to her chair,
But, lest he should neglect his studies
Like a young heir, the thrifty goddess
(For fear young master should be spoil'd)
Would use him like a younger child;
And after long computing found
'Twould come to just five thousand pound.
The queen of Love was pleased and proud,
To see Vanessa thus endow'd:
She doubted not but such a dame
Through every breast would dart a flame ;
That every rich and lordly swain
With pride would drag about her chain;
That scholars would forsake their books,
To study bright Vanessa's looks;
As she advanced, that womankind
Would by her model form their mind,
And all their conduct would be tried
By her, as an unerring guide;
Offending daughters oft would hear
Vanessa's praise rung in their ear:
Miss Betty, when she does a fault,
Lets fall her knife, or spills the salt,
Will thus be by her mother chid,
"Tis what Vanessa never did !"
Thus by the nymphs and swains adored,
My power shall be again restored,
And happy lovers bless my reign-
So Venus hoped, but hoped in vain.
For when in time the martial maid
Found out the trick that Venus play'd,
She shakes her helm, she knits her brows,
And fired with indignation, vows,
To-morrow, ere the setting sun,
She'd all undo that she had done.
But in the poets we may find
A wholesome law, time out of mind,
Had been confirm'd by Fate's decree,
That gods, of whatsoe'er degree,
Resume not what themselves have given,
Or any brother god in heaven:
Which keeps the peace among the gods,
Or they must always be at odds:
And Pallas, if she broke the laws,
Must yield her foe the stronger cause :
A shame to one so much adored
For wisdom at Jove's council-board.
Besides, she fear'd the queen of Love
Would meet with better friends above.
And though she must with grief reflect,
To see a mortal virgin deck'd
With graces hitherto unknown
To female breasts, except her own:
Yet she would act as best became
A goddess of unspotted fame.
She knew, by augury divine,
Venus would fail in her design:
She studied well the point, and found
Her foe's conclusions were not sound,
678
CADENUS AND VANESSA.
From premises erroneous brought,
And therefore the deduction's naught
And must have contrary effects,
To what her treacherous foe expects.
proper season Pallas meets
In
The queen of Love, whom thus she greets,
(For gods, we are by Homer told,
Can in celestial language scold :)—
Perfidious goddess! but in vain
You form'd this project in your brain;
A project for thy talents fit,
With much deceit and little wit.
Thou hast, as thou shalt quickly see,
Deceived thyself, instead of me;
For how can heavenly wisdom prove
An instrument to earthly love?
Know'st thou not yet, that men commence
Thy votaries for want of sense?
Nor shall Vanessa be the theme
To manage thy abortive scheme :
She'll prove the greatest of thy foes;
And yet I scorn to interpose,
But using neither skill nor force,
Leave all things to their natural course.
The goddess thus pronounced her doom:
When, lo! Vanessa in her bloom
Advanced, like Atalanta's star,
But rarely seen, and seen from far:
In a new world with caution stept,
Watch'd all the company she kept,
Well knowing, from the books she read,
What dangerous paths young virgins tread:
Would seldom at the Park appear.
Nor saw the playhouse twice a year;
Yet, not incurious, was inclined
To know the converse of mankind
First issued from perfumers' shops,
A crowd of fashionable fops:
They ask'd her how she liked the play;
Then told the tattle of the day;
A duel fought last night at two,
About a lady-you know who;
Mention'd a new Italian, come
Either from Muscovy or Rome;
Gave hints of who and who's together;
Then fell to talking of the weather;
Last night was so extremely fine,
The ladies walk'd till after nine:
Then, in soft voice and speech absurd,
With nonsense every second word,
With fustian from exploded plays,
They celebrate her beauty's praise;
Run o'er their cant of stupid lies,
And tell the murders of her eyes.
;
With silent scorn Vanessa sat,
Scarce listening to their idle chat;
Further than sometimes by a frown,
When they grew pert to pull them down.
At last she spitefully was bent
To try their wisdom's full extent;
And said, she valued nothing less
Than titles, figure, shape, and dress
That merit should be chiefly placed
In judgment, knowledge, wit, and taste
And these, she offer'd to dispute,
Alone distinguish'd man from brute:
That present times have no pretence
To virtue, in the noble sense
By Greeks and Romans understood,
To perish for our country's good.
She named the ancient heroes round,
Explain'd for what they were renown'd;
Then spoke with censure or applause
Of foreign customs, rites, and laws;
Through nature and through art she ranged,
And gracefully her subject changed;
In vain her hearers had no share
In all she spoke, except to stare.
Their judgment was, upon the whole,
-That lady is the dullest soul !—
Then tapt their forehead in a jeer,
As who would say-She wants it here!
She may be handsome, young, and rich,
But none will burn her for a witch!
A party next of glittering dames,
From round the purlieus of St. James,
Came early, out of pure good-will,
To see the girl in dishabille.
Their clamour, 'lighting from their chairs,
Grew louder all the way up stairs;
At entrance loudest were they found
The room with volumes litter'd round.
Vanessa held Montaigne, and read,
While Mrs. Susan comb'd her head.
They call'd for tea and chocolate,
And fell into their usual chat,
Discoursing with important face,
On ribbons, fans, and gloves, and lace;
Show'd patterns just from India brought,
And gravely ask'd her what she thought,
Whether the red or green were best,
And what they cost? Vanessa guess'd
As came into her fancy first;
Named half the rates, and liked the worst.
To scandal next-What awkward thing
Was that last Sunday in the ring?
I'm sorry Mopsa breaks so fast;
I said her face would never last.
Corinna, with that youthful air,
Is thirty, and a bit to spare:
Her fondness for a certain earl
Began when I was but a girl!
Phillis, who but a month ago
Was married to the Tunbridge beau.
I saw coquetting t'other night
In public with that odious knight !
They rallied next Vanessa's dress:
That gown was made for old Queen Bess.
Dear madam, let me see your head:
Don't you intend to put on red?
A petticoat without a hoop!
Sure, you are not ashamed to stoop!
With handsome garters at your knees,
No matter what a fellow sees.
Fill'd with disdain, with rage inflamed,
Both of herself and sex ashamed,
The nymph stood silent out of spite,
Nor would vouchsafe to set them right
Away the fair detractors went,
And gave by turns their censures vent.
She's not so handsome in my eyes:
For wit, I wonder where it lies!
She's fair and clean, and that's the most:
But why proclaim her for a toast?
A baby face; no life, no airs,
But what she learn'd at country fairs;
Scarce knows what difference is between
Rich Flanders lace and Colberteen.
;
I'll undertake, my little Nancy
In flounces has a better fancy;
With all her wit, I would not ask
Her judgment how to buy a mask.
We begg'd her but to patch her face,
She never hit one proper place :
Which every girl at five years old.
Can do as soon as she is told.
I own, that out-of-fashion stuff
Becomes the creature well enough.
CADENUS AND VANESSA.
679
The girl might pass, if we could get her
To know the world a little better.
(To know the world! a modern phrase
For visits, ombre, balls, and plays.)
Thus, to the world's perpetual shame,
The queen of Beauty lost her aim;
Too late with grief she understood
Pallas had done more harm than good;
For great examples are but vain,
Where ignorance begets disdain.
Both sexes, arm'd with guilt and spite,
Against Vanessa's power unite:
To copy her few nymphs aspired;
Her virtues fewer swains admired.
So stars, beyond a certain height,
Give mortals neither heat nor light.
Yet some of either sex, endow'd
With gifts superior to the crowd,
With virtue, knowledge, taste, and wit
She condescended to admit:
With pleasing arts she could reduce
Men's talents to their proper use ;
And with address each genius held
To that wherein it most excell'd;
Thus, making others' wisdom known,
Could please them, and improve her own.
A modest youth said something new;
She placed it in the strongest view.
All humble worth she strove to raise,
Would not be praised, yet loved to praise.
The learned met with free approach,
Although they came not in a coach:
Some clergy too she would allow,
Nor quarrell'd at their awkward bow;
But this was for Cadenus' sake,
A gownman of a different make;
Whom Pallas once, Vanessa's tutor,
Had fix'd on for her coadjutor.
But Cupid, full of mischief, longs
To vindicate his mother's wrongs.
On Pallas all attempts are vain :
One way he knows to give her pain:
Vows on Vanessa's heart to take
Due vengeance, for her patron's sake;
Those early seeds by Venus sown,
In spite of Pallas now were grown;
And Cupid hoped they would improve
By time, and ripen into love.
The boy made use of all his craft,
In vain discharging many a shaft,
Pointed at colonels, lords, and beaux:
Cadenus warded off the blows;
For, placing still some book betwixt,
The darts were in the cover fix'd,
Or, often blunted and recoil'd,
On Plutarch's Morals struck, were spoil'd.
The queen of Wisdom could foresee,
But not prevent, the Fates' decree:
And human caution tries in vain
To break that adamantine chain.
Vanessa, though by Pallas taught,
By Love invulnerable thought,
Searching in books for wisdom's aid,
Was, in the very search betray'd.
Cupid, though all his darts were lost,
Yet still resolved to spare no cost:
He could not answer to his fame
The triumphs of that stubborn dame,
A nymph so hard to be subdued,
Who neither was coquette nor prude.
I find, said he, she wants a doctor,
Both to adore her and instruct her:
I'll give her what she most admires
Among those venerable sires.
Cadenus is a subject fit,
Grown old in politics and wit,
Caress'd by ministers of state,
Of half mankind the dread and hate.
Whate'er vexations love attend,
She needs no rivals apprehend.
Her sex, with universal voice,
Must laugh at her capricious choice.
Cadenus many things had writ:
Vanessa much esteem'd his wit,
And call'd for his poetic works:
Meantime the boy in secret lurks;
And, while the book was in her hand,
The urchin from his private stand
Took aim, and shot with all his strength
A dart of such prodigious length,
It pierced the feeble volume through,
And deep transfix'd her bosom too.
Some lines, more moving than the rest,
Stuck to the point that pierced her breast,
And, borne directly to the heart,
With pains unknown increased her smart.
Vanessa, not in years a score,
Dreams of a gown of forty-four;
Imaginary charms can find
In eyes with reading almost blind:
Cadenus now no more appears
Declined in health, advanced in years.
She fancies music in his tongue;
Nor further looks, but thinks him young.
What mariner is not afraid
To venture in a ship decay'd?
What planter will attempt to ycke
A sapling with a falling oak?
As years increase she brighter shines;
Cadenus with each day declines:
And he must fall a prey to time,
While she continues in her prime.
Cadenus, common forms apart,
In every scene had kept his heart;
Had sigh'd and languish'd, vow'd and writ,
For pastime, or to show his wit,
But books, and time, and state affairs,
Had spoil'd his fashionable airs :
He now could praise, esteem, approve,
But understood not what was love.
His conduct might have made him styled
A father, and the nymph his child.
That innocent delight he took
To see the virgin mind her book,
Was but the master's secret joy
In school to hear the finest boy.
Her knowledge with her fancy grew;
She hourly press'd for something new;
Ideas came into her mind
So fast, his lessons lagg'd behind;
She reason'd, without plodding long,
Nor ever gave her judgment wrong.
But now a sudden change was wrought:
She minds no longer what he taught.
Cadenus was amazed to find
Such marks of a distracted mind:
For, though she seem'd to listen more
To all he spoke, than e'er before,
He found her thoughts would absent range,
Yet guess'd not whence could spring the change.
And first he modestly conjectures
His pupil might be tired with lectures;
Which help'd to mortify his pride,
Yet gave him not the heart to chide:
But, in a mild dejected strain,
At last he ventured to complain :
Said, she should be no longer teazed,
Might have her freedom when she pleased;
680
CADENUS AND VANESSA.
Was now convinced he acted wrong
To hide her from the world so long,
And in dull studies to engage
One of her tender sex and age;
That every nymph with envy own'd,
How she might shine in the grande monde;
And every shepherd was undone
To see her cloister'd like a nun.
This was a visionary scheme:
He waked, and found it but a dream;
A project far above his skill;
For nature must be nature still.
If he were bolder than became
A scholar to a courtly dame,
She might excuse a man of letters;
Thus tutors often treat their betters ;
And, since his talk offensive grew,
He came to take his last adieu.
Vanessa, fill'd with just disdain,
Would still her dignity maintain,
Instructed from her carly years
To scorn the art of female tears.
Had he employed his time so long
To teach her what was right and wrong;
Yet could such notions entertain
That all his lectures were in vain?
She own'd the wandering of her thoughts;
But he must answer for her faults.
She well remember'd to her cost,
That all his lessons were not lost.
Two maxims she could still produce
And sad experience taught their use;
That virtue, pleased by being shown,
Knows nothing which it dares not own;
Can make us without fear disclose
Our inmost secrets to our foes
That common forms were not design'd
Directors to a noble mind.
Now, said the nymph, to let you sec
My actions with your rules agree;
That I can vulgar forms despise,
And have no secrets to disguise;
I knew, by what you said and writ,
How dangerous things were men of wit;
You caution'd me against their charms,
But never gave me equal arms;
Your lessons found the weakest part,
Aim'd at the head, but reach'd the heart.
Cadenus felt within him rise
Shame, disappointment, guilt, surprise.
IIe knew not how to reconcile
Such language with her usual style :
And yet her words were so exprest,
He could not hope she spoke in jest.
His thought had wholly been confined
To form and cultivate her mind.
IIe hardly knew, till he was told,
Whether the nymph were young or old;
Had met her in a public place,
Without distinguishing her face;
Much less could his declining age
Vanessa's earliest thoughts engage;
And, if her youth indifference met,
His person must contempt beget;
Or grant her passion be sincere,
How shall his innocence be clear?
Appearances were all so strong,
The world must think him in the wrong ;
Would say he made a treacherous use
Of wit, to flatter and seduce;
The town would swear he had betray'd
By magic spells the harmless maid:
And every beau would have his jokes,
That scholars were like other folks;
And, when Platonic flights were over,
The tutor turn'd a mortal lover!
So tender of the young and fair!
It show'd a true paternal care-
Five thousand guincas in her purse!
The doctor might have fancied worse.-
Hardly at length he silence broke,
And falter'd every word he spoke;
Interpreting her complaisance,
Just as a man sans consequence.
She rallied well, he always knew:
Her manner now was something new ;
And what she spoke was in an air
As serious as a tragic player.
But those who aim at ridicule
Should fix upon some certain rule,
Which fairly hints they are in jest,
Else he must enter his protest:
For let a man be ne'er so wise,
IIe may be caught with sober lies;
A science which he never taught,
And, to be free, was dearly bought;
For, take it in its proper light,
'Tis just what coxcombs call a bite.
But, not to dwell on things minute,
Vanessa finish'd the dispute ;
Brought weighty arguments to prove
That reason was her guide in love.
She thought he had himself described,
His doctrines when she first imbibed;
What he had planted, now was grown ;
His virtues she might call her own;
As he approves, as he dislikes,
Love or contempt her fancy strikes.
Self-love, in nature rooted fast,
Attends us first, and leaves us last;
Why she likes him, admire not at her;
She loves herself, and that's the matter.
How was her tutor wont to praise
The geniuses of ancient days!
(Those authors he so oft had named,
For learning, wit, and wisdom famed ;)
Was struck with love, esteem, and awe,
For persons whom he never saw.
Suppose Cadenus flourish'd then,
He must adore such godlike men.
If one short volume could comprise
All that was witty, learn'd, and wise,
How would it be esteem'd and read,
Although the writer long were dead!
If such an author were alive,
How all would for his friendship strive,
And come in crowds to see his face!
And this she takes to be her case.
Cadenus answers every end,
The book, the author, and the friend;
The utmost her desires will reach,
Is but to learn what he can teach :
His converse is a system fit
Alone to fill up all her wit;
While every passion of her mind
In him is centred and confined.
Love can with speech inspire a mute,
And taught Vanessa to dispute.
This topic, never touch'd before,
Display'd her eloquence the more:
Her knowledge, with such pains acquired,
By this new passion grew inspired;
Through this she made all objects pass,
Which gave a tincture o'er the mass;
As rivers, though they bend and twine,
Still to the sea their course incline:
Or, as philosophers, who find
Some favourite system to their mind;
CADENUS AND VANESSA.
631
In every point to make it fit,
Will force all nature to submit.
Cadenus, who could ne'er suspect
His lessons would have such effect,
Or be so artfully applied,
Insensibly came on her side.
It was an unforeseen event;
Things took a turn he never meant.
Whoe'er excels in what we prize,
Appears a hero in our eyes;
Each girl, when pleased with what is taught,
Will have the teacher in her thought.
When miss delights in her spinet,
A fiddler may a fortune get;
A blockhead, with melodious voice,
In boarding-schools may have his choice:
And oft the dancing-master's art
Climbs from the toe to touch the heart.
In learning let a nymph delight,
The pedant gets a mistress by't.
Cadenus, to his grief and shame,
Could scarce oppose Vanessa's flame;
And, though her arguments were strong,
At least could hardly wish them wrong.
Howe'er it came, he could not tell,
But sure she never talk'd so well.
His pride began to interpose;
Preferr'd before a crowd of beaux !
So bright a nymph to come unsought!
Such wonder by his merit wrought!
'Tis merit must with her prevail !
He never knew her judgment fail!
She noted all she ever read!
And had a most discerning head!
'Tis an old maxim in the schools,
That flattery's the food of fools;
Yet now and then your men of wit
Will condescend to take a bit.
So when Cadenus could not hide,
He chose to justify his pride;
Construing the passion she had shown,
Much to her praise, more to his own.
Nature in him had merit placed,
In her a most judicious taste.
Love, hitherto a transient guest,
Ne'er held possession of his breast;
So long attending at the gate,
Disdain'd to enter in so late.
Love why do we one passion call,
When 'tis a compound of them all?
Where hot and cold, where sharp and sweet,
In all their equipages meet;
Where pleasures mix'd with pains appear,
Sorrow with joy, and hope with fear;
Wherein his dignity and age
Forbid Cadenus to engage.
But friendship in its greatest height,
A constant rational delight,
On virtue's basis fix'd to last,
When love allurements long are past,
Which gently warms but cannot burn,
He gladly offers in return;
His want of passion will redeem
With gratitude, respect, esteem:
With what devotion we bestow,
When goddesses appear below.
While thus Cadenus entertains
Vanessa in exalted strains,
The nymph in sober words entreats
A truce with all sublime conceits;
For why such raptures, flights, and fancies,
To her who durst not read romances .
In lofty style to make replies,
Which he had taught her to despise?
But when her tutor will affect
Devotion, duty, and respect,
He fairly abdicates the throne :
The government is now her own ;
He has a forfeiture incurr'd,
She vows to take him at his word,
And hopes he will not think it strange,
If both should now their stations change;
The nymph will have her turn to be
The tutor; and the pupil he :
Though she already can discern
Her scholar is not apt to learn ;
Or wants capacity to reach
The science she designs to teach ;
Wherein his genius was below
The skill of every common beau,
Who, though he cannot spell, is wise
Enough to read a lady's eyes,
And will each accidental glance
Interpret for a kind advance.
But what success Vanessa met
Is to the world a secret yet.
Whether the nymph, to please her swain,
Talks in a high romantic strain ;
Or whether he at last descends
To act with less seraphic ends;
Or to compound the business, whether
They temper love and books together;
Must never to mankind be told,
Nor shall the conscious Muse unfold.
Meantime the mournful queen of Love
Led but a weary life above.
She ventures now to leave the skies,
Grown by Vanessa's conduct wise :
For though by one perverse event
Pallas had cross'd her first intent;
Though her design was not obtain’d:
Yet had she much experience gain'd,
And by the project vainly tried,
Could better now the cause decide.
She gave due notice that both parties,
Coram Regina, prox' die Martis,
Should at their peril, without fail,
Come and appear, and save their bail.
All met; and silence thrice proclaimed,
One lawyer to each side was named.
The judge discover'd in her face
Resentments for her late disgrace;
And full of anger, shame, and grief,
Directed them to mind their brief;
Nor spend their time to show their reading:
She'd have a summary proceeding.
She gather'd under every head
The sum of what each lawyer said,
Gave her own reasons last, and then
Decreed the cause against the men.
But in a weighty case like this,
To show she did not judge amiss,
Which evil tongues might else report,
She made a speech in open court,
Wherein she grievously complains,
"How she was cheated by the swains;
On whose petition (humbly showing,
That women were not worth the wooing,
And that, unless the sex would mend,
The race of lovers soon must end)-
She was at lord knows what expense
To form a nymph of wit and sense,
A model for her sex design'd,
Who never could one lover find.
She saw her favour was misplaced;
The fellows had a wretched taste;
She needs must tell them to their face,
They were a stupid senseless race;
682
TO LOVE-A REBUS, &c.
And, were she to begin again
She'd study to reform the men;
Or add some grains of folly more
To women, than they had before,
To put them on an equal foot;
And this, or nothing else, would do't.
This might their mutual fancy strike;
Since every being loves its like.
"But now, repenting what was done,
She left all business to her son;
She put the world in his possession,
And let him use it at discretion."
The crier was order'd to dismiss
The court, so made his last "O yes!"
The goddess would no longer wait;
But rising from her chair of state,
Left all below at six and seven,
Harness'd her doves and flew to heaven.
TO LOVE.a
In all I wish, how happy should I be,
Thou grand deluder, were it not for thee!
So weak thou art, that fools thy power despise;
And yet so strong, that triumph'st o'er the wise.
Thy traps are laid with such peculiar art,
They catch the cautious, let the rash depart.
Most nets are fill'd by want of thought and care:
But too much thinking brings us to thy snare;
Where, held by thee, in slavery we stay,
And throw the pleasing part of life away.
But, what does most my indignation move,
Discretion! thou wert ne'er a friend to Love:
Thy chief delight is to defeat those arts,
By which he kindles mutual flames in hearts;
While the blind loitering god is at his play,
Thou steal'st his golden pointed darts away:
Those darts which never fail and in their stead
;
Convey'st malignant arrows tipt with lead:
The heedless god, suspecting no deceits,
Shoots on, and thinks he has done wondrous feats;
But the poor nymph, who feels her vitals burn,
And from her shepherd can find no return,
Laments, and rages at the power divine,
When, curst Discretion! all the fault was thine:
Cupid and Hymen thou hast set at odds,
And bred such feuds between those kindred gods,
That Venus cannot reconcile her sons;
When one appears, away the other runs.
The former scales, wherein he used to poise
Love against love, and equal joys with joys,
Are now fill'd up with avarice and pride,
Where titles, power, and riches still subside.
Then gentle Venus to thy father run,
And tell him how thy children are undone;
Prepare his bolts to give one fatal blow,
And strike Discretion to the shades below.
A REBUS.
BY VANESSA.
CUT the name of the man who his mistress denied.
And let the first of it be only applied
To join with the prophet who David did chide;
Then say what a horse is that runs very fast;d
And that which deserves to be first put the last;
Spell all then, and put them together, to find
The name and the virtues of him I design'd.
Like the patriarch in Egypt, he's versed in the state;
Like the prophet in Jewry, he's free with the great ;
& Found on Miss Vanhomrigh's desk, after her death, in the
handwriting of Dr. Swift.
• Nathan.
b Jo-seph.
d Swift.
Like a racer he flies, to succour with speed,
When his friends want his aid, or desert is in need.
THE DEAN'S ANSWER.
THE nymph who wrote this in an amorous fit,
I cannot but envy the pride of her wit,
Which thus she will venture profusely to throw
On so mean a design, and a subject so low.
For mean's her design, and her subject as mean,
The first but a rebus, the last but a dean.
A dean's but a parson: and what is a rebus ?
A thing never known to the Muses or Phœbus.
The corruption of verse; for, when all is done,
It is but a paraphrase made on a pun.
But a genius like hers no subject can stifle,
It shows and discovers itself through a trifle.
By reading this trifle, I quickly began
To find her a great wit, but the dean a small man.
Rich ladies will furnish their garrets with stuff
Which others for mantuas would think fine enough:
So the wit that is lavishly thrown away here
Might furnish a second-rate poet a year.
Thus much for the verse; we proceed to the next,
Where the nymph has entirely forsaken her text :
Her fine panegyrics are quite out of season;
And what she describes to be merit is treason:
The changes which faction has made in the state
Have put the dean's politics quite out of date :
Now no one regards what he utters with freedom,
And, should he write pamphlets, no great man would
read 'em ;
And, should want or desert stand in need of his aid,
This racer would prove but a dull founder'd jade.
STELLA'S BIRTHDAY.
March 13, 1718-19.
STELLA this day is thirty-four
(We shan't dispute a year or more):
However, Stella, be not troubled,
Although thy size and years are doubled
Since first I saw thee at sixteen,
The brightest virgin on the green;
So little is thy form declined;
Made up so largely in thy mind.
O, would it please the gods to split
Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit!
No age could furnish out a pair
Of nymphs so graceful, wise, and fair;
With half the lustre of your eyes,
With half your wit, your years, and size.
And then, before it grew too late,
How should I beg of gentle fute,
(That either nymph might have her swain,)
To split my worship too in twain.
STELLA'S BIRTHDAY. 1719-20.
ALL travellers at first incline
Where'er they see the fairest sign:
And if they find the chambers neat,
And like the liquor and the meat,
Will call again, and recommend
The Angel Inn to every friend.
What though the painting grows decay'd,
The house will never lose its trade:
Nay, though the treacherous tapster, Thomas,
Hangs a new Angel two doors from us,
As fine as dauber's hands can make it,
In hopes that strangers may mistake it,
We think it both a shame and sin
To quit the true old Angel Inn.
Now this is Stella's case in fact,
An angel's face a little crack'd,
TO STELLA.
683
Could poets or could painters fix
How angels look at thirty-six :
This drew us in at first to find
In such a form an angel's mind;
And every virtue now supplies
The fainting rays of Stella's eyes.
See at her levee crowding swains,
Whom Stella freely entertains
With breeding, humour, wit, and sense,
And puts them but to small expense;
Their mind so plentifully fills,
And makes such reasonable bills,
So little gets for what she gives,
We really wonder how she lives!
And had her stock been less, no doubt
She must have long ago run out.
Then who can think we'll quit the place,
When Doll hangs out a newer face?
Or stop and light at Chloe's head,
With scraps and leavings to be fed?
Then, Chloe, still go on to prate
Of thirty-six and thirty-eight;
Pursue your trade of scandal-picking,
Your hints that Stella is no chicken;
Your innuendoes, when you tell us
That Stella loves to talk with fellows:
And let me warn you to believe
A truth, for which your soul should grieve;
That should you live to see the day
When Stella's locks must all be gray,
When age must print a furrow'd trace
On every feature of her face;
Though you, and all your senseless tribe,
Could art, or time, or nature bribe,
To make you look like Beauty's queen,
And hold for ever at fifteen;
No bloom of youth can ever blind
The cracks and wrinkles of your mind:
All men of sense will pass your door,
And crowd to Stella's at fourscore.
TO STELLA,
WHO COLLECTED AND TRANSCRIBED THE Dean's
POEMS.
1720.
As, when a lofty pile is raised,
We never hear the workmen praised,
Who bring the lime, or place the stones,
But all admire Inigo Jones;
So, if this pile of scatter'd rhymes
Should be approved in aftertimes;
If it both pleases and endures,
The merit and the praise are yours.
Thou, Stella, wert no longer young,
When first for thee my harp was strung,
Without one word of Cupid's darts,
Of killing eyes, or bleeding hearts;
With friendship and esteem possess'd,
I ne'er admitted Love a guest.
In all the habitudes of life,
The friend, the mistress, and the wife,
Variety we still pursue,
In pleasure seek for something new ;
Or else, comparing with the rest,
Take comfort that our own is best;
The best we value by the worst,
As tradesmen show their trash at first;
But his pursuits are at an end,
Whom Stella chooses for a friend.
A poet starving in a garret,
Conning all topics like a parrot,
Invokes his mistress and his Muse,
And stays at home for want of shoes:
Should but his Muse descending drop
A slice of bread and mutton-chop;
Or kindly, when his credit's out,
Surprise him with a pint of stout;
Or patch his broken stocking-soles;
Or send him in a peck of coals;
Exalted in his mighty mind,
He flies and leaves the stars behind;
Counts all his labours amply paid,
Adores her for the timely aid.
Or, should a porter make inquiries
For Chloe, Sylvia, Phillis, Iris;
Be told the lodging, lane, and sign,
The bowers that hold those nymphs divine;
Fair Chloe would perhaps be found
With footmen tippling under ground;
The charming Sylvia beating flax,
Her shoulders mark'd with bloody tracks;
Bright Phillis mending ragged smocks;
And radiant Iris in the pox.
These are the goddesses enroll'd
In Curll's collection, new and old,
Whose scoundrel fathers would not know 'em,
If they should meet them in a poem.
True poets can depress and raise,
Are lords of infamy and praise;
They are not scurrilous in satire,
Nor will in panegyric flatter.
Unjustly poets we asperse;
Truth shines the brighter clad in verse,
And all the fictions they pursue
Do but insinuate what is true.
Now should my praises owe their truth
To beauty, dress, or paint, or youth,
What stoics call without our power,
They could not be ensured an hour;
'Twere grafting on an annual stock,
That must our expectation mock,
And making one luxuriant shoot,
Die the next year for want of root:
Before I could my verses bring,
Perhaps you 're quite another thing.
So Mævius, when he drain'd his skull
To celebrate some suburb trull,
His similes in order set,
And every crambo he could get;
Had gone through all the commonplaces
Worn out by wits who rhyme on faces;
Before he could his poem close,
The lovely nymph had lost her nose.
Your virtues safely I commend,
They on no accidents depend :
Let malice look with all her eyes,
She dares not say the poet lies.
Stella, when you these lines transcribe,
Lest you should take them for a bribe,
Resolved to mortify your pride,
I'll here expose your weaker side.
Your spirits kindle to a flame,
Moved with the lightest touch of blame;
And when a friend in kindness tries
To show you where your error lies,
Conviction does but more incense;
Perverseness is your whole defence;
Truth, judgment, wit, give place to spite,
Regardless both of wrong and right;
Your virtues all suspended wait,
Till time has open'd reason's gate;
And what is worse, your passion bends
Its force against your nearest friends,
Which manners, decency, and pride,
Have taught you from the world to hide;
In vain; for see, your friend has brought
To public light your only fault ;
684
TO STELLA.
And yet a fault we often find
Mix'd in a noble, generous mind:
And may compare to Etna's fire,
Which, though with trembling, all admire;
The heat that makes the summit glow,
Enriching all the vales below.
Those who in warmer climes complain
From Phoebus' rays they suffer pain,
Must own that pain is largely paid
By generous wines beneath a shade.
Yet when I find your passions rise,
And anger sparkling in your eyes,
I grieve those spirits should be spent,
For nobler ends by nature meant.
One passion with a different turn,
Makes wit inflame, or anger burn:
So the sun's heat, with different powers,
Ripens the grape, the liquor sours :
Thus Ajax, when with rage possess'd,
By Pallas breathed into his breast,
His valour would no more employ,
Which might alone have conquer'd Troy;
But blinded by resentment, seeks
For vengeance on his friends the Greeks.
You think this turbulence of blood
From stagnating preserves the flood,
Which, thus fermenting by degrees,
Exalts the spirits, sinks the lees.
Stella for once you reason wrong,
For should this ferment last too long,
By time subsiding, you may find
Nothing but acid left behind;
From passion you may then be freed,
When peevishness and spleen succeed.
Say, Stella, when you copy next,
Will you keep strictly to the text?
Dare you let these reproaches stand,
And to your failing set your hand?
Or, if these lines your anger fire,
Shall they in baser flames expire?
Whene'er they burn, if burn they must,
They'll prove my accusation just.
TO STELLA,
VISITING ME IN MY SICKNESS.
PALLAS, observing Stella's wit
Was more than for her sex was fit
And that her beauty, soon or late,
Might breed confusion in the state,
In high concern for humankind,
Fix'd honour in her infant mind.
But (not in wranglings to engage
With such a stupid vicious age)
If honour I would here define,
It answers faith in things divine.
As natural life the body warms,
1720.
And, scholars teach, the soul informs,
So honour animates the whole,
And is the spirit of the soul.
Those numerous virtues which the tribe
Of tedious moralists describe,
And by such various titles call,
True honour comprehends them all.
Let melancholy rule supreme,
Choler preside, or blood, or phlegm,
It makes no difference in the case,
Nor is complexion honour's place.
But, lest we should for honour take
The drunken quarrels of a rake ;
Or think it seated in a scar,
Or on a proud triumphal car;
Or in the payment of a debt
We lose with sharpers at piquet;
Or when a whore, in her vocation,
Keeps punctual to an assignation;
Or that on which his lordship swears,
When vulgar knaves would lose their ears;
Let Stella's fair example preach
A lesson she alone can teach.
In points of honour to be tried,
All passions must be laid aside :
Ask no advice, but think alone;
Suppose the question not your own.
How shall I act is not the case,
But how would Brutus in my place?
In such a case would Cato bleed?
And how would Socrates proceed?
Drive all objections from your mind,
Else you relapse to humankind :
Ambition, avarice, and lust,
A factious rage, and breach of trust,
And flattery tipp'd with nauseous fleer,
And guilty shame, and servile fear,
Envy, and cruelty, and pride,
Will in your tainted heart preside.
Heroes and heroines of old
By honour only were enroll'd
Among their brethren in the skies,
To which (though late) shall Stella rise.
Ten thousand oaths upon record
Are not so sacred as her word:
The world shall in its atoms end,
Ere Stella can deceive a friend.
By honour seated in her breast
She still determines what is best:
What indignation in her mind
Against enslavers of mankind!
Base kings and ministers of state,
Eternal objects of her hate!
She thinks that nature ne'er design'd
Courage to man alone confined.
Can cowardice her sex adorn,
Which most exposes ours to scorn?
She wonders where the charm appears
In Florimel's affected fears;
For Stella never learn'd the art
At proper times to scream and start;
Nor calls up all the house at night,
And swears she saw a thing in white.
Doll never flies to cut her lace,
Or throw cold water in her face,
Because she heard a sudden drum,
Or found an earwig in a plum.
Her hearers are amazed from whence
Proceeds that fund of wit and sense;
Which, though her modesty would shroud,
Breaks like the sun behind a cloud;
While gracefulness its art conceals,
And yet through every motion steals.
Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind,
And, forming you, mistook your kind?
No; 'twas for you alone he stole
The fire that forms a manly soul;
Then to complete it every way,
He moulded it with female clay:
To that you owe the nobler flame,
To this the beauty of your frame.
How would Ingratitude delight,
And how would Censure glut her spite,
If I should Stella's kindness hide
In silence, or forget with pride!
When on my sickly couch I lay,
Impatient both of night and day,
Lamenting in unmanly strains,
Call'd every power to case my pains;
Then Stella ran to my relief,
With cheerful face and inward grief,
!
STELLA TO DR. SWIFT, &c.
685
And, though by Heaven's severe decree
She suffers hourly more than me,
No cruel master could require,
From slaves employ'd for daily hire,
What Stella, by her friendship warm'd,
With vigour and delight perform'd :
My sinking spirits now supplies
With cordials in her hands and eyes
Now with a soft and silent tread
Unheard she moves about my bed.
I see her taste each nauseous draught,
And so obligingly am caught ;
I bless the hand from whence they came,
Nor dare distort my face for shame.
Best pattern of true friends! beware;
You pay too dearly for your care,
If, while your tenderness secures
My life, it must endanger yours;
For such a fool was never found,
Who pull'd a palace to the ground,
Only to have the ruins made
Materials for a house decay'd.
STELLA TO DR. SWIFT,
ON HIS BIRTHDAY, NOV. 30, 1721.
ST. PATRICK'S dean, your country's pride,
My early and my only guide,
Let me among the rest attend,
Your pupil and your humble friend,
To celebrate in female strains
The day that paid your mother's pains;
Descend to take that tribute due
In gratitude alone to you.
When men began to call me fair,
You interposed your timely care :
You early taught me to despise
The ogling of a coxcomb's eyes ;
Show'd where my judgment was misplaced;
Refined my fancy and my taste.
Behold that beauty just decay'd,
Invoking art to nature's aid:
Forsook by her admiring train,
She spreads her tatter'd nets in vain;
Short was her part upon the stage ;
Went smoothly on for half a page;
Her bloom was gone, she wanted art,
As the scene changed, to change her part;
She, whom no lover could resist,
Before the second act was hiss'd.
Such is the fate of female race
With no endowments but a face;
Before the thirtieth year of life,
A maid forlorn or hated wife.
Stella to you, her tutor, owes
That she has ne'er resembled those :
Nor was a burden to mankind
With half her course of years behind.
You taught how I might youth prolong,
By knowing what was right and wrong;
How from my heart to bring supplies
Of lustre to my fading eyes;
How soon a beauteous mind repairs
The loss of changed or falling hairs;
How wit and virtue from within
Send out a smoothness o'er the skin:
Your lectures could my fancy fix,
And I can please at thirty-six.
The sight of Chloe at fifteen,
Coquetting, gives not me the spleen;
The idol now of every fool
Till time shall make their passions cool;
Then tumbling down Time's steepy hill,
While Stella holds her station still
O! turn your precepts into laws,
Redeem the women's ruin'd cause,
Retrieve lost empire to our sex,
That men may bow their rebel necks.
Long be the day that gave you birth
Sacred to friendship, wit, and mirth;
Late dying may you cast a shred
Of your rich mantle o'er my head;
To bear with dignity my sorrow,
One day alone, then die to-morrow.
TO STELLA,
ON HER BIRTHDAY, 1721-2.
WHILE, Stella, to your lasting praise
The Muse her annual tribute pays,
While I assign myself a task
Which you expect, but scorn to ask ;
If I perform this task with pain,
Let me of partial fate complain;
You every year the debt enlarge,
I grow less equal to the charge:
In you each virtue brighter shines,
But my poetic vein declines;
My harp will soon in vain be strung,
And all your virtues left unsung;
For none among the upstart race
Of poets dare assume my place;
Your worth will be to them unknown,
They must have Stellas of their own;
And thus, my stock of wit decay'd,
I dying leave the debt unpaid,
Unless Delany, as my heir,
Will answer for the whole arrear.
ON THE GREAT BURIED BOTTLE.
BY DR. DELANY.
AMPHORA, quæ mæstum linquis, lætumque revises
Arcntem dominum, sit tibi terra levis.
Tu quoque depositum serves, neve opprime, marmor
Amphora non meruit tam pretiosa mori.
EPITAPH.
BY THE SAME.
Hoc tumulata jacet proles Lenæa sepulchro,
Immortale genus, nec peritura jacet;
Quin oritura iterum, matris concreditur alvo:
Bis natum referunt te quoque, Bacche Pater.
STELLA'S BIRTHDAY:
A GREAT BOTTLE OF WINE, LONG BURIED, BEING THAT
DAY DUG UP. 1722-3.
RESOLVED my annual verse to pay,
By duty bound, on Stella's day,
Furnish'd with paper, pens, and ink,
I gravely sat me down to think :
I bit my nails and scratch'd my head,
But found my wit and fancy fled:
Or, if, with more than usual pain,
A thought came slowly from my brain,
It cost me Lord knows how much time
To shape it into sense and rhyme :
And what was yet a greater curse,
Long thinking made my fancy worse.
Forsaken by th' inspiring Nine,
I waited at Apollo's shrine:
I told him what the world would say
If Stella were unsung to-day:
How I should hide my head for shame,
When both the Jacks and Robin came;
How Ford would frown, how Jim would leer,
How Sheridan, the rogue, would sneer,
686
STELLA AT WOOD PARK.
And swear it does not always follow,
That semel in anno ridet Apollo.
I have assured them twenty times
That Phoebus help'd me in my rhymes;
Phoebus inspired me from above,
And he and I were hand and glove.
But, finding me so dull and dry since,
They'll call it all poetic licence;
And when I brag of aid divine,
Think Eusden's right as good as mine.
Nor do I ask for Stella's sake;
'Tis my own credit lies at stake:
And Stella will be sung, while I
Can only be a stander by.
Apollo, having thought a little,
Return'd this answer to a tittle.
Though you should live like old Methusalem,
I furnish hints and you shall use all 'em,
You yearly sing as she grows old,
You'd leave her virtues half untold.
But, to say truth, such dulness reigns,
Through the whole set of Irish deans,
I'm daily stunn'd with such a medley,
Dean W-, dean D-, and dean Smedley,
That, let what dean soever come,
My orders are, I'm not at home;
And if your voice had not been loud,
You must have pass'd among the crowd.
But now, your danger to prevent,
You must apply to Mrs. Brent [the housekeeper];
For she, as priestess, knows the rites
Wherein the god of earth delights.
First, nine ways looking, let her stand
With an old poker in her hand;
Let her describe a circle round
In Saunders' [the butler] cellar on the ground:
A spade let prudent Archy [the footman] hold,
And with discretion dig the mould.
Let Stella look with watchful eye,
Rebecca [Mrs. Dingley], Ford, and Grattans by.
Behold the bottle, where it lies
With neck elated toward the skies!
The god of winds and god of fire
Did to its wondrous birth conspire;
And Bacchus for the poet's use
Pour'd in a strong inspiring juice.
See! as you raise it from its tomb,
It drags behind a spacious womb,
And in the spacious womb contains
A sovereign medicine for the brains.
You'll find it soon, if fate consents;
If not, a thousand Mrs. Brents,
Ten thousand Archys, arm'd with spades,
May dig in vain to Pluto's shades.
From thence a plenteous draught infuse,
And boldly then invoke the Muse;
But first let Robert [the valet] on his knees
With caution drain it from the lees;
The Muse will at your call appear,
With Stella's praise to crown the year.
STELLA AT WOOD PARK,
THE RESIDENCE OF CHARLES FORD, ESQ., NEAR
DUBLIN. 1723.
-"Cuicumque nocere volebat,
Vestimenta debat pretiosa."
DON CARLOS, in a merry spite,
Did Stella to his house invite :
He entertain'd her half a year
With generous wines and costly cheer.
Don Carlos made her chief director,
That she might o'er the servants hector.
In half a week the dame grew nice,
Got all things at the highest price:
Now at the table-head she sits,
Presented with the nicest bits:
She look'd on partridges with scorn,
Except they tasted of the corn:
A haunch of venison made her sweat,
Unless it had the right fumette.
Don Carlos earnestly would beg,
"Dear madam, try this pigeon's leg;"
Was happy when he could prevail
To make her only touch a quail.
Through candle-light she view'd the wine,
To see that every glass was fine.
At last, grown prouder than the devil
With feeding high, and treatment civil,
Don Carlos now began to find
His malice work as he design'd.
The winter sky began to frown:
Poor Stella must pack off to town;
From purling streams and fountains bubbling,
To Liffey's stinking tide in Dublin:
From wholesome exercise and air,
To sossing in an easy-chair:
From stomach sharp, and hearty feeding,
To piddle like a lady breeding:
From ruling there the household singly,
To be directed here by Dingley :ª
From every day a lordly banquet,
To half a joint, and God be thanked :
From every meal Pontac in plenty,
To half a pint one day in twenty:
From Ford attending at her call,
To visits of
:
From Ford, who thinks of nothing mean,
To the poor doings of the dean:
From growing richer with good cheer,
To running out by starving here.
But now arrives the dismal day;
She must return to Ormond quay."
The coachman stopp'd; she look'd, and swore
The rascal had mistook the door:
At coming in, you saw her stoop;
The entry brush'd against her hoop:
Each moment rising in her airs,
She curs'd the narrow winding stairs:
Began a thousand faults to spy;
The ceiling hardly six feet high;
The smutty wainscot full of cracks:
And half the chairs with broken backs:
Her quarter's out at Lady-day;
She vows she will no longer stay
In lodgings like a poor Grisette,
While there are houses to be let.
Howe'er, to keep her spirits up,
She sent for company to sup:
When all the while you might remark,
She strove in vain to ape Wood Park.
Two bottles call'd for, (half her store,
The cupboard could contain but four :)
A supper worthy of herself,
Five nothings in five plates of delf.
Thus for a week the farce went on;
When, all her country savings gone,
She fell into her former scene,
Small beer, a herring, and the dean.
Thus far in jest: though now, I fear,
You think my jesting too severe ;
But poets, when a hint is new,
Regard not whether false or true:
Yet raillery gives no offence,
Where truth has not the least pretence;
a The constant companion of Stella.
b Where the two ladies lodged.
A RECEIPT-STELLA'S BIRTHDAY.
687
Nor can be more securely placed
Than on a nymph of Stella's taste.
I must confess your wine and vittle
I was too hard upon a little :
Your table neat, your linen fine:
And, though in miniature, you shine:
Yet, when you sigh to leave Wood Park,
The scene, the welcome, and the spark,
To languish in this odious town,
And pull your haughty stomach down,
We think you quite mistake the case,
The virtue lies not in the place :
For though my raillery were true,
A cottage is Wood Park with you.
A RECEIPT
TO RESTORE STELLA'S YOUTH. 1724-5.
THE Scottish hinds, too poor to house
In frosty nights their starving cows,
While not a blade of grass or hay
Appears from Michaelmas to May,
Must let their cattle range in vain
For food along the barren plain :
Meagre and lank with fasting grown,
And nothing left but skin and bone;
Exposed to want, and wind, and weather,
They just keep life and soul together,
Till summer showers and evening's dew
Again the verdant glebe renew;
And, as the vegetables rise,
The famish'd cow her want supplies:
Without an ounce of last year's flesh;
Whate'er she gains is young and fresh ;
Grows plump and round, and full of mettle,
As rising from Medea's kettle,
With youth and beauty to enchant
Europa's counterfeit gallant.
Why, Stella, should you knit your brow,
If I compare you to a cow?
'Tis just the case; for you have fasted
So long, till all your flesh is wasted;
And must against the warmer days
Be sent to Quilca down to graze;
Where mirth, and exercise, and air,
Will soon your appetite repair:
The nutriment will from within,
Round all your body, plump your skin;
Will agitate the lazy flood,
And fill your veins with sprightly blood;
Nor flesh nor blood will be the same,
Nor aught of Stella but the name :
For what was ever understood,
By humankind, but flesh and blood?
And if your flesh and blood be new,
You'll be no more the former you;
But for a blooming nymph will pass,
Just fifteen, coming summer's grass,
Your jetty locks with garlands crown'd :
While all the squires for nine miles round,
Attended by a brace of curs,
With jockey boots and silver spurs,
No less than justices o' quorum,
Their cow-boys bearing cloaks before 'em,
Shall leave deciding broken pates,
To kiss your steps at Quilca gates.
But, lest you should my skill disgrace,
Come back before you're out of case;
For if to Michaelmas you stay,
The new-born flesh will melt away;
The 'squire in scorn will fly the house
For better game, and look for grouse ;
But here, before the frost can mar it,
We'll make it firm with beef and claret.
STELLA'S BIRTHDAY. 1724-5.
As, when a beauteous nymph decays,
We say, she's past her dancing days;
So poets lose their feet by time,
And can no longer dance in rhyme.
Your annual bard had rather chose
To celebrate your birth in prose:
Yet merry folks, who want by chance
A pair to make a country dance,
Call the old housekeeper, and get her
To fill a place for want of better:
While Sheridan is off the hooks,
And friend Delany at his books,
That Stella may avoid disgrace,
Once more the dean supplies their place.
Beauty and wit, too sad a truth!
Have always been confined to youth;
The god of wit and beauty's queen,
He twenty-one and she fifteen,
No poet ever sweetly sung,
Unless he were, like Phoebus, young;
Nor ever nymph inspired to rhyme,
Unless, like Venus, in her prime.
At fifty-six, if this be true,
Am I a poet fit for you?
Or, at the age of forty-three,
Are you a subject fit for me?
Adieu! bright wit, and radiant eyes!
You must be grave and I be wise.
Our fate in vain we would oppose :
But I'll be still your friend in prose:
Esteem and friendship to express
Will not require poetic dress;
And if the Muse deny her aid
To have them sung, they may be said.
But, Stella, say, what evil tongue
Reports you are no longer young;
That Time sits with his scythe to mow
Where erst sat Cupid with his bow;
That half your locks are turn'd to gray?
I'll ne'er believe a word they say.
'Tis true, but let it not be known,
My eyes are somewhat dimmish grown;
For nature, always in the right,
To your decays adapts my sight;
And wrinkles undistinguish'd pass,
For I'm ashamed to use a glass:
And till I see them with these eyes,
Whoever says you have them, lies.
No length of time can make you quit
Honour and virtue, sense and wit,
Thus you may still be young to me,
While I can better hear than see.
O ne'er may Fortune show her spite,
To make me deaf, and mend my sight!
TO STELLA.
WRITTEN ON THE DAY OF HER BIRTH, MARCH 13,
1723-4.
But not on the subject, when I was sick in bed.
TORMENTED with incessant pains,
Can I devise poetic strains?
Time was, when I could yearly pay
My verse on Stella's native day:
But now, unable grown to write,
I grieve she ever saw the light.
Ungrateful! since to her I owe
That I these pains can undergo.
She tends me like an humble slave;
And, when indecently I rave,
When out my brutish passions break,
With gall in every word I speak,
688
VERSES BY STELLA-DEATH AND DAPHNE.
She with soft speech my anguish cheers,
Or melts my passions down with tears;
Although 'tis easy to descry
She wants assistance more than I;
Yet seems to feel my pains alone,
And is a stoic in her own.
When, among scholars, can we find
So soft and yet so firm a mind?
All accidents of life conspire
To raise up Stella's virtue higher;
Or else to introduce the rest
Which had been latent in her breast.
Her firmness who could e'er have known,
Had she not evils of her own?
Her kindness who could ever guess,
Had not her friends been in distress?
Whatever base returns you find
From me, dear Stella, still be kind.
In your own heart you'll reap the fruit,
Though I continue still a brute.
But, when I once am out of pain,
I promise to be good again ;
Meantime, your other juster friends
Shall for my follies make amends ;
So may we long continue thus,
Admiring you, you pitying us.
VERSES
BY STELLA.
If it be true, celestial powers,
That you have form'd me fair,
And yet, in all my vainest hours,
My mind has been my care;
Then, in return, I beg this grace,
As you were ever kind,
What envious Time takes from my face
Bestow upon my mind!
DEATH AND DAPHNE.
TO AN AGREEABLE YOUNG LADY, BUT EXTREMELY
LEAN. 1730.
DEATH Went upon a solemn day
At Pluto's hall his court to pay:
The phantom having humbly kiss'd
His gristly monarch's sooty fist,
Presented him the weekly bills
Of doctors, fevers, plagues, and pills.
Pluto, observing since the peace
The burial article decrease,
And vex'd to see affairs miscarry,
Declared in council Death must marry;
Vow'd he no longer could support
Old bachelors about his court;
The interest of his realm had need
That death should get a numerous breed;
Young deathlings, who by practice made
Proficient in their father's trade,
With colonies might stock around
His large dominions under ground.
A consult of coquettes below
Was call'd, to rig him out a beau;
From her own head Megara takes
A periwig of twisted snakes:
Which in the nicest fashion curl'd,
(Like toupets of this upper world,)
With flower of sulphur powder'd well,
That graceful on his shoulders fell;
An adder of the sable kind
In line direct hung down behind:
The owl, the raven, and the bat,
Clubb'd for a feather to his hat:
A
Periwigs with long tails.
His coat, a usurer's velvet pall,
Bequeathed to Pluto, corpse and all.
But, loth his person to expose
Bare, like a carcase pick'd by crows,
A lawyer, o'er his hands and face
Stuck artfully a parchment case.
No new-flux'd rake show'd fairer skin;
Nor Phyllis after lying in.
With snuff was fill'd his ebon box,
Of shin-bones rotted by the pox.
Nine spirits of blaspheming fops,
With aconite anoint his chops;
And give him words of dreadful sounds,
G-d d-n his blood! and b-d and w—ds!
Thus furnish'd out, he sent his train
To take a house in Warwick-lane a
The faculty, his humble friends,
A complimental message sends :
Their president in scarlet gown
Harangued, and welcomed him to town.
But Death had business to despatch;
His mind was running on his match.
And hearing much of Daphne's fame,
His majesty of terrors came,
Fine as a colonel of the guards,
To visit where she sat at cards ;
She, as he came into the room,
Thought him Adonis in his bloom.
And now her heart with pleasure jumps,
She scarce remembers what is trumps;
For such a shape of skin and bone
Was never seen except her own.
;
Charm'd with his eyes, and chin, and snout,
Her pocket-glass drew slily out;
And grew enamour'd with her phiz,
As just the counterpart of his.
She darted many a private glance,
And freely made the first advance ;
Was of her beauty grown so vain,
She doubted not to win the swain;
Nothing she thought could sooner gain him,
Than with her wit to entertain him.
She ask'd about her friends below
This meagre fop, that batter'd beau;
Whether some late departed toasts
Had got gallants among the ghosts?
If Chloe were a sharper still
As great as ever at quadrille ?
(The ladies there must needs be rooks,
For cards, we know, are Pluto's books.)
If Florimel had found her love,
For whom she hang'd herself above?
How oft a-week was kept a ball
By Proserpine at Pluto's hall?
She fancied these Elysian shades
The sweetest place for masquerades ;
How pleasant on the banks of Styx,
To troll it in a coach-and-six !
What pride a female heart inflames!
How endless are ambition's aims:
Cease, haughty nymph; the Fates decree
Death must not be a spouse for thee;
For when by chance the meagre shade
Upon thy hand his finger laid,
Thy hand as dry and cold as lead,
His matrimonial spirit fled;
He felt about his heart a damp,
That quite extinguish'd Cupid's lamp;
Away the frighted spectre scuds,
And leaves my lady in the suds.
The college of physicians.
DAPHNE-STELLA'S BIRTHDAY.
689
DAPHNE.
DAPHNE knows, with equal ease,
How to vex and how to please;
But the folly of her sex
Makes her sole delight to vex.
Never woman more devised
Surer ways to be despised;
Paradoxes weakly wielding,
Always conquer'd, never yielding.
To dispute, her chief delight,
With not one opinion right:
Thick her arguments she lays on,
And with cavils combats reason;
Answers in decisive way,
Never hears what you can say ;
Still her odd perverseness shows
Chiefly where she nothing knows;
And, where she is most familiar,
Always peevisher and sillier
All her spirits in a flame
;
When she knows she's most to blame.
Send me hence ten thousand miles
From a face that always smiles:
None could ever act that part
But a fury in her heart.
Ye who hate such inconsistence,
To be easy, keep your distance :
Or in folly still befriend her,
But have no concern to mend her;
Lose no time to contradict her,
Nor endeavour to convict her.
Never take it in your thought
That she'll own or cure a fault.
Into contradiction warm her,
Then perhaps you may reform her :
Only take this rule along,
Always to advise her wrong;
And reprove her when she's right;
She may then grow wise for spite.
No-that scheme will ne'er succeed,
She has better learnt her creed
She's too cunning and too skilful,
When to yield, and when be wilful.
Nature holds her forth two mirrors,
One for truth and one for errors:
That looks hideous, fierce, and frightful
This is flattering and delightful :
That she throws away as foul;
Sits by this to dress her soul.
;
Thus you have the case in view,
Daphne, 'twixt the dean and you:
Heaven forbid he should despise thee,
But will never more advise thee.
STELLA'S BIRTHDAY.
MARCH 13, 1726-7.
THIS day, whate'er the Fates decree,
Shall still be kept with joy by me:
This day then let us not be told
That you are sick and I grown old;
Nor think on our approaching ills,
And talk of spectacles and pills;
To-morrow will be time enough
To hear such mortifying stuff.
Yet, since from reason may be brought
A better and more leasing thought,
Which can, in spite of all decays,
Support a few remaining days;
From not the gravest of divines
Accept for once some serious lines.
Although we now can form no more
Long schemes of life, as heretofore;
VOL. I.
Yet you, while time is running fast,
Can look with joy on what is past.
Were future happiness and pain
A mere contrivance of the brain;
As atheists argue, to entice
And fit their proselytes for vice;
(The only comfort they propose,
To have companions in their woes ;)
Grant this the case; yet sure 'tis hard
That virtue, styled its own reward,
And by all sages understood
To be the chief of human good,
Should acting die; nor leave behind
Some lasting pleasure in the mind,
Which by remembrance will assuage
Grief, sickness, poverty, and age;
And strongly shoot a radiant dart
To shine through life's declining part.
Say, Stella, feel you no content,
Reflecting on a life well spent?
Your skilful hand employ'd to save
Despairing wretches from the grave:
And then supporting with your store
Those whom you dragg'd from death before?
So Providence on mortals waits,
Preserving what it first creates.
Your generous boldness to defend
An innocent and absent friend!
That courage which can make you just
To merit humbled in the dust;
The detestation you express
For vice in all its glittering dress;
That patience under torturing pain,
Where stubborn stoics would complain :
Must these like empty shadows pass,
Or forms reflected from a glass?
Or mere chimeras in the mind,
That fly and leave no marks behind?
Does not the body thrive and grow
By food of twenty years ago?
And, had it not been still supplied,
It must a thousand times have died.
Then who with reason can maintain
That no effects of food remain?
And is not virtue in mankind
The nutriment that feeds the mind;
Upheld by each good action past,
And still continued by the last?
Then, who with reason can pretend
That all effects of virtue end?
Believe me, Stella, when you show
That true contempt for things below,
Nor prize your life for other ends
Than merely to oblige your friends,
Your former actions claim their part,
And join to fortify your heart.
For Virtue, in her daily race,
Like Janus, bears a double face;
Looks back with joy where she has gone,
And therefore goes with courage on:
She at your sickly couch will wait,
And guide you to a better state.
O then, whatever Heaven intends,
Take pity on your pitying friends!
Nor let your ills affect your mind,
To fancy they can be unkind.
Me, surely me, you ought to spare,
Who gladly would your suffering share ;
Or give my scrap of life to you,
And think it far beneath your due;
You, to whose care so oft I owe
That I'm alive to tell you so.
2 Y
690
A NEW YEAR'S GIFT FOR BEC-BIRTHDAY-&c.
A NEW-YEAR'S GIFT FOR BEC.º
1723-4.
RETURNING Janus now prepares,
For Bec, a new supply of cares,
Sent in a bag to Dr. Swift,
Who thus displays the new-year's gift.
First, this large parcel brings you tidings
Of our good dean's eternal chidings;
Of Nelly's pertness, Robin's leasings,
And Sheridan's perpetual teazings.
This box is cramm'd on every side
With Stella's magisterial pride.
Behold a cage with sparrows fill'd,
First to be fondled, then be kill'd.
Now to this hamper I invite you,
With six imagined cares to fright you.
Here in this bundle Janus sends
Concerns by thousands for your friends:
And here's a pair of leathern pokes,
To hold your cares for other folks.
Here from this barrel you may broach
A peck of troubles for a coach.
This ball of wax your ears will darken,
Still to be curious, never hearken.
b
Lest you the town may have less trouble in,
Bring all your Quilca's cares to Dublin,
For which he sends this empty sack;
And so take all upon your back.
DINGLEY AND BRENT.C
A SONG.
To the tune of " Ye Commons and Peers."
DINGLEY and Brent,
Wherever they went,
Ne'er minded a word that was spoken;
Whatever was said,
They ne'er troubled their head,
But laugh'd at their own silly joking.
Should Solomon wise
In majesty rise,
And show them his wit and his learning;
They never would hear,
But turn the deaf ear,
As a matter they had no concern in.
You tell a good jest,
And please all the rest
;
Comes Dingley, and asks you, what was it?
And, curious to know,
Away she will go
To seek an old rag in the closet.
BEC'S [MRS. DINGLEY] BIRTHDAY.
Nov. 8, 1726.
THIS day, dear Bec, is thy nativity;
Had Fate a luckier one she'd give it ye.
She chose a thread of greatest length:
And doubly twisted it for strength.
Nor will be able with her shears
To cut it off these forty years.
Then who says care will kill a cat?
Rebecca shows they're out in that.
For she, though overrun with care,
Continues healthy, fat, and fair.
As, if the gout should seize the head,
Doctors pronounce the patient dead;
But, if they can, by all their arts,
Eject it to th' extremest parts,
They give the sick man joy, and praise
The gout that will prolong his days.
a Mrs. Rebecca Dingley, Stella's friend and companion.
b Country-house of Dr. Sheridan.
• Dr, Swift's housekeeper.
Rebecca thus I gladly greet,
Who drives her cares to hands and feet:
For, though philosophers maintain
The limbs are guided by the brain,
Quite contrary Rebecca's led;
Her hands and feet conduct her head;
By arbitrary power convey her,
She ne'er considers why or where:
Her hands may meddle, feet may wander,
Her head is but a mere by-stander:
And all her bustling but supplies
The part of wholesome exercise.
Thus nature has resolved to pay her
The cat's nine lives, and eke the care.
Long may she live, and help her friends
Whene'er it suits her private ends;
Domestic business never mind
Till coffee has her stomach lined;
But, when her breakfast gives her courage,
Then think on Stella's chicken porridge:
I mean when Tiger a has been served,
Or else poor Stella may be starved.
May Bec have many an evening nap,
With Tiger slabbering in her lap;
But always take a special care
She does not overset the chair;
Still be she curious, never hearken
To any speech but Tiger's barking!
And when she's in another scene,
Stella long dead, but first the dean,
May fortune and her coffee get her
Companions that will please her better!
Whole afternoons will sit beside her,
Nor for neglects or blunders chide her.
A goodly set as can be found
Of hearty gossips prating round;
Fresh from a wedding or a christening,
To teach her ears the art of listening,
And please her more to hear them tattle,
Than the dean storm or Stella rattle.
Late be her death, one gentle nod,
When Hermes, waiting with his rod,
Shall to Elysian fields invite her,
Where there will be no cares to fright her!
ON THE COLLAR OF TIGER,
MRS. DINGLEY'S LAP-DOG.
PRAY steal me not; I'm Mrs. Dingley's,
Whose heart in this four-footed thing lies.
A CONFERENCE
BETWEEN
SIR H. P-CE'S CHARIOT AND MRS. D. ST-D'S CHAIR.
CHARIOT.
My pretty dear coz, though I've roved the town o'er,
To despatch in an hour some visits a score;
Though, since first on the wheels, I've been every day
At the 'Change, at a raffling, at church, or a play;
And the fops of the town are pleased with the notion
Of calling your slave the perpetual motion ;-
Though oft at your door I have whined [out] my love,
As my knight does grin his at your lady above;
Yet ne'er before this, though I used all my care,
I e'er was so happy to meet my dear Chair;
And since we're so near, like birds of a feather,
Let's e'en, as they say, set our horses together.
CHAIR.
By your awkward address, you're that thing which
should carry,
With one footman behind, our lover sir Harry.
a Mrs. Dingley's favourite lap-dog.
A CONFERENCE-A DIALOGUE, &c.
691
By your language, I judge, you think me a wench;
He that makes love to me must make it in French.
Thou that's drawn by two beasts, and carry'st a brute,
Can'st thou vainly e'er hope I'll answer thy suit?
Though sometimes you pretend to appear with your
No regard to their colour, their sexes you mix: [six,
Then on the grand-paw you'd look very great,
With your new-fashion'd glasses and nasty old seat.
Thus a beau I have seen strut with a cock'd hat,
And newly rigg'd out, with a dirty cravat.
You may think that you make a figure most shining,
But it's plain that you have an old cloak for a lining.
Are those double gilt nails? Where's the lustre of
To set off the knight, and to finish the Jerry? [Kerry,
If you hope I'll be kind, you must tell me what's due
In George's lane for you ere I'll buckle to. [alert;
CHAR. Why, how now, Doll Diamond, you're very
Is it your French breeding has made you so pert?
Because I was civil, here's a stir with a pox:
Who is it that values your ―or your fox?
Sure 'tis to her honour, he ever should bed
His bloody red hand to her bloody red head.
You're proud of your gilding; but I tell you each
Is only [just] tinged with a rub at her tail; [nail
And although it may pass for gold on each ninny,
Sure we know a Bath shilling soon from a guinea.
Nay, her foretop's a cheat; each morn she does
black it,
Yet, ere it be night, it's the same with her placket.
I'll ne'er be run down any more with your cant;
Your velvet was wore before in a mant,
On the back of her mother; but now 'tis much duller,-
The fire she carries hath changed its colour.
Those creatures that draw me you never would mind,
If you'd but look on your own Pharaoh's lean kine;
They're taken for spectres, they're so meagre and
Drawn damnably low by your sorrel mare. [spare,
We know how your lady was in you befriended;
You're not to be paid for 'till the lawsuit is ended:
But her bond it is good, he need not to doubt;
She is two or three years above being out.
Could my knight be advised, he should ne'er spend
his vigour
On one he can't hope of e'er making bigger.
A DIALOGUE
BETWEEN SIR WILLIAM HANDCOCK AND THADY FITZ-
PATRICK, IN THE DEVIL'S ANTECHAMBER.
THADY.
YOU'RE welcome, sir William, by my shoul and sal-
I rejoice for to see one from my own nation. [vation,
We have long wanted news: was it growing wealthy
Has made all my brothers so damnable healthy?
When I think of their number, I look for them faster;
Sure they are not grown honest, and quitted their
master.
Come, never look squeamish, nor be out of order,
We're here on a level, good master Recorder. [civil,
Let me know what has pass'd, and you'll find I'll be
And speak a good word for you here to the devil.
SIR WILLIAM.
[part,
Oh, thank you, dear Thady, and must own, for my
It's much more your goodness than it is my desert;
But, to speak for his fee, you know, 'twas our calling;
Which because I could not, I then fell a bawling.
I never stuck out to quote a false case:
And to back it, I e'er had an impudent face;
Or on my right hand I had always my brother,
To vouch, which we still did, the one for the other.
To be sure, to be rich was always my guide;
To take, when I could, a fee on each side.
All this you well know. But, pr'ythee, now tell
If I have any more acquaintance in hell.
Is not that Tullamore?
TH. You see how he trudges
At the head of a shoal of unrighteous judges.
By oppression and cheating, by rapine and lust,
We shall in good time have the rest of the trust.
But our master, the devil, has solemnly swore,
Till they're out of commission, not to admit more.
If you speak me but fair, you shall not go far
To meet with your friends of the bench or the bar:
Look at Reynolds, and Lyndon, and Whitshed, and
Keating,
The four rogues are all got together a prating.
SIR W. Pr'ythee, where is fat Hely? I durst lay my
That he's got to heaven by help of his wife. [life
TH. You'll ever be urging a reason that's faint;
If that would have done, we might each be a saint.
But what is become of sir Toby and Stephen?
There's neither of them, I am sure, gone to heaven.
Does your brother as yet speak law in a cause;
And has Pauca left off making use of his claws?
Does the bar from the bench with patience still pocket
The calling them rogue, and rascal, and blockhead?
SIR W. Faith, Thady, our judges are grown very
humble;
And one is suspicious he'll soon have a tumble.
The new ones they keep the old ones in awe,
And have taught them civility, prudence, and law.
TH. Pox take me, sir William, why was not I asking,
All this time you've been here, for poor Clara Gas-
The woman that lay so long by my side;- [coyne?
But I show'd I forgot her before that I died.
I believe she's unmarried, for I think I took care
To leave her but little, and much to my heir.
SIR W. She still is thy widow, thou barbarous
teague;
Both living and dead, thou'st to her been a plague ;
It's not for that sin that I am come here,
Having left all the wealth I had to my dear.
TH. That thou e'er wert a blockhead you need not
now own,
But this thy last action all others does crown ;
Thou scarce wert got hither, thou pitiful cully,
Before she had gotten a lusty young bully;
I have of our master a proverb to tell you;
What's got o'er his back is spent under his belly.
BILLET TO A COMPANY OF PLAYERS.
The enclosed prologue is formed upon the story of the secre-
tary's not allowing you to act, unless you would pay him
300l. per annum; upon which you got a licence from the lord-
mayor to act as strollers.
THE PROLOGUE.
OUR set of strollers, wandering up and down,
Hearing the house was empty, came to town;
And, with a licence from our good lord-mayor,
Went to one Griffith, formerly a player:
Him we persuaded, with a moderate bribe,
To speak to Elrington and all the tribe,
To let our company supply their places,
And hire us out their scenes, and clothes, and faces.
Is not the truth the truth? Look full on me;
I am not Elrington, nor Griffith he.
When we perform, look sharp among our crew,
There's not a creature here you ever knew.
The former folks were servants to the king;
We, humble strollers, always on the wing.
Now, for my part, I think, upon the whole,
Rather than starve, a better man would stroll.
Stay! let me see-Three hundred pounds a-year,
For leave to act in town!-'Tis plaguy dear.
2 Y 2
692
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE-THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.
?
Now, here's a warrant; gallants, please to mark,
For three thirteens, and sixpence to the clerk.
Three hundred pounds! Were I the price to fix,
The public should bestow the actors six;
A score of guineas given underhand,
For a good word or so, we understand.
To help an honest lad that's out of place
May cost a crown or so; a common case:
And in a crew 'tis no injustice thought
To ship a rogue and pay him not a groat.
But, in the chronicles of former ages,
Who ever heard of servants paying wages
I pity Elrington with all my heart;
Would he were here this night to act my part;
I told him what it was to be a stroller;
How free we acted, and had no comptroller:
In every town we wait on Mr. Mayor,
First get a licence, then produce our ware;
We sound a trumpet, or we beat a drum:
Huzza! (the schoolboys roar) the players are come;
And then we cry, to spur the bumpkins on,
Gallants, by Tuesday next we must be gone.
I told him in the smoothest way I could
All this, and more, yet it would do no good.
But Elrington, tears falling from his cheeks,
He that has shone with Betterton and Wilks,
To whom our country has been always dear,
Who chose to leave his dearest pledges here,
Owns all your favours, here intends to stay,
And as a stroller act in every play:
And the whole crew this resolution takes,
To live and die all strollers for your sakes;
Not frighted with an ignominious name,
For your displeasure is their only shame.
A pox on Elrington's majestic tone!
Now to a word of business in our own.
Gallants, next Thursday night will be our last :
Then without fail we pack up for Belfast.
Lose not your time, nor our diversion miss;
The next we act shall be as good as this.
EPILOGUE
TO MR. HOPPY'S BENEFIT-NIGHT, AT SMOCK-ALLEY.
Hold! hold, my good friends; for one moment pray
stop ye;
I return ye my thanks in the name of poor Hoppy.
He's not the first person who never did write,
And yet has been fed by a benefit-night.
The custom is frequent, on my word I assure ye,
In our famed elder house, of the hundreds of Drury.
But then you must know, those players still act on
Some very good reasons for such benefaction.
[do,)
A deceased poet's widow, if pretty, can't fail;
From Cibber she holds, as a tenant in tail.
Your emerited actors, and actresses too,
For what they have done, (though no more they can
And sitters, and songsters, and Chetwood and G-
And sometimes a poor sufferer in the South Sea;
A machine-man, a tire-woman, a mute, and a sprite,
Have been all kept from starving by a benefit-night.
Thus, for Hoppy's bright merits, at length we have
found
That he must have of us ninety-nine and one pound,
Paid to him clear money once every year:
And however some think it a little too dear,
Yet, for reasons of state, this sum we'll allow,
Though we pay the good man with the sweat of our
brow.
First, because by the king to us he was sent,
To guide the whole session of this parliament.
To preside in our councils, both public and private.
And so learn, by the by, what both houses do drive at.
When bold B- roars, and meek M— raves,
When Ash prates by wholesale, or B-h by halves,
When Whigs become Whims, or join with the Tories,
And to himself constant when a member no more is,
But changes his sides, and votes and unvotes;
As S-t is dull, and with S--d, who dotes;
Then up must get Hoppy, and with voice very low,
And with eloquent bow, the house he must show
That that worthy member who spoke last must give
The freedom to him, humbly most, to conceive
'That his sentiment on this affair isn't right;
That he mightily wonders which way he came by't:
That, for his part, God knows, he does such things
disown;
[down.
And so, having convinc'd him, he most humbly sits
For these, and more reasons, which perhaps you
may hear,
[year,
Pounds hundred this night, and one hundred this
And so on we are forced, though we sweat out our
blood,
To make these walls pay for poor Hoppy's good;
To supply with rare diet his pot and his spit;
Add with richest Margoux to wash down a tit-bit.
To wash oft his fine linen, so clean and so neat,
And to buy him much linen, to fence against sweat:
All which he deserves; for although all the day
He ofttimes is heavy, yet all night he's gay;
And if he rise early to watch for the state,
To keep up his spouts he'll sit up as late.
Thus, for these and more reasons, as before I did say,
Hop has got all the money for our acting this play,
Which makes us poor actors look je ne sais quoi
THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.
LOGICIANS have but ill defined
As rational the human kind ;
Reason, they say, belongs to man,
But let them prove it if they can.
Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius,
By ratiocinations specious,
Have strove to prove, with great precision,
With definition and division,
Homo est ratione præditum ;
But for my soul I cannot credit 'em,
And must in spite of them maintain
That man and all his ways are vain;
And that this boasted lord of nature
Is both a weak and erring creature;
That instinct is a surer guide
Than reason, boasting mortals' pride;
And that brute beasts are far before 'em.
Deus est anima brutorum.
Whoever knew an honest brute
At law his neighbour prosecute,
Bring action for assault or battery,
Or friend beguile with lies and flattery?
O'er plains they ramble unconfined,
No politics disturb their mind;
They eat their meals, and take their sport,
Nor know who's in or out at court.
They never to the levee go
To treat, as dearest friend, a foe:
They never importune his grace,
Nor ever cringe to men in place:
Nor undertake a dirty job,
Nor draw the quill to write for Bob.
Fraught with invective, they ne'er go
To folks at Paternoster-row.
No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters,
No pickpockets, or poetasters,
Are known to honest quadrupeds:
No single brute his fellow leads.
Brutes never meet in bloody fray,
Nor cut each other's throats for pay.
THE ELEPHANT-THE SWAN TRIPE CLUB.
693
Of beasts, it is confess'd the ape
Comes nearest us in human shape;
Like man, he imitates each fashion,
And malice is his lurking passion :
But, both in malice and grimaces,
A courtier any ape surpasses.
Behold him, humbly cringing, wait
Upon the minister of state;
View him soon after to inferiors
Aping the conduct of superiors ;
He promises with equal air,
And to perform takes equal care.
He in his turn finds imitators,
At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters,
Their masters' manner still contract,
And footmen, lords, and dukes can act.
Thus, at the court, both great and small
Behave alike, for all ape all.
THE ELEPHANT;
OR THE PARLIAMENT-MAN.
Written many years since; taken from Coke's Institutes.
ERE bribes convince you whom to choose,
The precepts of lord Coke peruse.
Observe an elephant, says he,
And let like him your member be:
First take a man that's free from gall,
For elephants have none at all;
In flocks or parties he must keep,
For elephants live just like sheep;
Stubborn in honour he must be,
For elephants ne'er bend the knee.
Last, let his memory be sound,
In which your elephant's profound;
That old examples from the wise
May prompt him in his noes and ayes.
Thus the lord Coke hath gravely writ,,
In all the form of lawyer's wit:
And then, with Latin and all that,
Shows the comparison is pat.
Yet in some points my lord is wrong,
One's teeth are sold, and t'other's tongue :
Now, men of parliament, God knows,
Are more like elephants of shows;
Whose docile memory and sense
Are turn'd to trick, to gather pence;
To get their master half-a-crown,
They spread their flag, or lay it down:
Those who bore bulwarks on their backs,
And guarded nations from attacks,
Now practise every pliant gesture,
Opening their trunk for every tester.
Siam, for elephants so famed,
Is not with England to be named:
Their elephants by men are sold;
Ours sell themselves, and take the gold.
No. 1.
THE SWAN TRIPE CLUB IN DUBLIN.
A SATIRE.
Dedicated to all those who are true friends to her
present majesty and her government, to the church
of England, and the succession as by law esta-
blished; and who gratefully acknowledge the pre-
servation of their religion, rights, and liberties, due
to the late king William, of ever glorious and im-
mortal memory.
Difficile est satyram non scribere.
How this fantastic world is changed of late!
Sure some full moon has work'd upon the state.
Time was when it was question'd much in story,
Which was the worst, the Devil or a Tory;
But now,
alas! those happy times are o'er;
The rampant things are couchant now no more,
But trump up Tories, who were Whigs before.
There was a time when fair Hibernia lay
Dissolved in ease, and, with a gentle sway,
Enjoy'd the blessings of a halcyon day.
Pleased with the bliss their friendly union made,
Beneath her bending fig-tree's peaceful shade,
Careless and free, her happy sons were laid.
No feuds, no groundless jealousies appear,
To rouse their rage, or wake them into fear;
With pity they beheld Britannia's state,
Toss'd by the tempest of a stormy fate;
Wild frenzy through her blasted borders pass'd,
Whilst noisy faction drove the furious blast,
Calm and serene we heard the tempest roar,
And fearless view'd the danger from the shore.
Thus blest, we slumber'd in a downy trance,
Happy, like Eden, in mild ignorance;
Till Discord, like the wily serpent, found
Th' unguarded path to the forbidden ground;
Show'd us the tree, the tempting tree, which stood
The fairest, but most fatal, of the wood;
And where (as hanging on the golden bough)
The glittering fruit look'd smiling to the view.
"Taste, and be wise," the sly provoker said;
And see the platform of your ruin laid:
Rouse from the dulness ye too long have shown,
And view your church's danger, and your own.
Thus at superior wit we catch'd in haste,
Which mock'd the approach of our deluded taste.
And now
Imaginary schemes we seem to spy,
And search for dangers with a curious eye;
From thought to thought we roll, and rack our sense,
To obviate mischiefs in the future tense:
Strange plots in embryo from the Lord we fear;
And dream of mighty ills, the Lord knows where !
Wretchedly wise, we curse our present store,
But bless the witless age we knew before.
a
Near that famed place where slender wights resort,
And gay Pulvilio keeps his scented court;
Where exiled wit ne'er shows its hated face,
But happier nonsense fills the thoughtless place;
Where sucking beaux, our future hopes, are bred,
The sharping gamester, and the bully red,
O'erstock'd with fame, but indigent of bread;
There stands a modern dome of vast renown,
For a plump cook and plumper reck'nings known:
Raised high, the fair inviting bird you see,
In all his milky plumes and feather'd lechery;
In whose soft down immortal Jove was dress'd
When the fair nymph the wily god possess'd;
Still in which shape he stands to mortal view,
Patron of whoring and of toping too.
Here gravely meet the worthy sons of zeal,
To wet their pious clay, and decently to rail:
Immortal courage from the claret springs,
To censure heroes and the acts of kings:
Young doctors of the gown here shrewdly show
How grace divine can ebb, and spleen can flow;
The pious red-coat most devoutly swears,
Drinks to the church, but ticks on his arrears;
The gentle beau, too, joins in wise debate,
Adjusts his cravat, and reforms the state.
As when the sun, on a returning flood,
Strange wondrous insects on the shore remain,
Warms into life the animated mud,
And a new race of vermin fills the plain;
So from the excrement of zeal we find
A slimy race, but of the modish kind,
a Lucas's coffeehouse.
The Swan tavern
694
THE SWAN TRIPE CLUB IN DUBLIN.
Crawl from the filth, and, kindled into man,
Make up the members of the divan.
sage
Of these the famed Borachio is the chief,
A son of pudding and eternal beef.
The jovial god, with all-inspiring grace,
Sits on the scarlet honours of his face;
His happy face, from rigid wisdom free,
Securely smiles in thoughtless majesty;
His own tithe-geese not half so plump as he.
Wild notions flow from his immoderate head,
And statutes quoted,―moderately read;
Whole floods of words his moderate wit reveal,
Yet the good man's immoderate in zeal.
How can his fluent tongue and thought keep touch,
Who thinks too little, but who talks too much?
When peaceful tars with Gallic navies meet,
And lose their honour to preserve the fleet,
This wondrous man alone shall conquest boast,
And win the battles which the heroes lost.
When just esteem he would of William raise,
He damns the glories which he means to praise ;
The poor encomium, so thinly spread,
Lampoons the injured ashes of the dead;
Though for the orator, 'tis said withal,
He meant to praise him, if he meant at all.
Egregious Magpiea charms the listening throng,
Whilst inoffensive satire tips his tongue;
Grey politics adorn the beardless chit,
Of foreign manners but of native wit
Scarce wean'd from diddy of his Alma Mater,
The cocking thing steps forth the church's Erra Pater;
High-flying thoughts his moderate size supply,
And wing the towering puppet to the sky;
On brazen wings beat out from native stock,
He mounts, and rides upon the weathercock;
From whence the dull Hibernian isle he views;
The dull Hibernian isle he sees, and spews;
He mourns the talent of his wisdom, lost
On such a dry inhospitable coast.
Thus daws, when perch'd upon a steeple's top,
With Oxford strut and pride superior hop;
And, whilst on earth their haughty glances throw,
Take humble curates but for daws below.
b
Firedrake, a senator of awkward grace,
But famed for matchless modesty and face,
With christian clamour fills the deafen'd room,
And prophesies of wondrous ills to come.
Heaven in a hurry seems to have form'd his paste,
Fill'd his spleen, but left his head-piece waste:
up
He thinks, he argues, nay, he prays, in haste.
When in soil'd sheets the dirty wight is spread,
And high-flown schemes for curtains grace the bed,
Wild freakish fancy, with her airy train,
Whirls through the empty region of his brain
Shows him the church just tott'ring on his head,
And all her mangled sons around her spread;
Paints out himself, of all his hopes beguiled,
And his domestic Sicorax defiled:
Then kindling at the sight, he flies about,
And puts dissenting squadrons to the rout;
Brimful of wrath, he plunges into strife,
And thumps the passive carcase of his wife;
He routs the flying foe, he scours the plain,
And boldly fights the visionary scene.
Th' Apollo of the cause, old Grimbeard stands,
And all the inferior fry of wit commands;
Nursed in faction, and a foe to peace,
up
He robs his bones of necessary ease;
Drunk with inveterate spleen, he scorns his age,
And Nature's lowest ebb supplies with sprightly rage.
Cold drivelling Time has all his nerves unstrung,
But left untouch'd his lechery of tongue;
a Archdeacon Percival.
Mr., or captain, Locke.
b Ecchlin, a lawyer.
;
His lechery of tongue, which still remains,
And adds a friendly aid to want of brains:
He blames the dulness of his party's sloth,
And chides the fears of their unactive youth;
Tells them the time, the happy time, is come,
When moderation shall behold its doom
When snivelling mercy shall no more beguile,
But christian force and pious rage shall smile;
Warns them against those dangers to provide,
Those dangers which his spectacles have spied,
Dark and unknown to all the world beside!
Hail, venerable man, design'd by fate
The saving genius of a sinking state!
Lo, prostrate at thy feet we trembling fall,
Thou great twin-idol of the thund'ring Baal!
How shall thy votaries thy wrath assuage,
Unbend thy frowns, and deprecate thy rage?
Millions of victims shall thy altars soil;
Heroes shall bleed and treasurers shall broil;
Thy peerless worth shall in our lays be sung:
O, bend thy stubborn rage, and sheathe thy dreadful
tongue!
а
Nutbrain, a a daggle-gown of large renown,
For weak support to needy client known,
With painted dangers keeps his mob in awe,
And shrewdly construes faction into law.
When Albion's senate waved its fatal wand,
And with their hungry locusts cursed the land,
Our fruitful Egypt, with the load oppress'd,
Beheld with grief its happy fields laid waste:
With watery eyes, and with a mother's pain,
She heard the nation groan, but heard in vain ;
Till, gorged with prey, they took the favourite wind,
And left this straggling vermin here behind:
Too well he liked our fruitful Egypt's plain,
To trot to hungry Westminster again.
Say, blind Hibernia, for what charms unknown
Ye adopt a man whom ye should blush to own :
Beggar'd and spoil'd of all your wealthy store,
Yet hug the viper whom ye cursed before.
Is this the pious champion of your cause,
Who robs your offspring to protect your laws;
Slily distils his venom to the root,
And blasts the tree from whence he plucks the fruit?
Who sees your ruin, which he smiles to see;
Whose gain's his heaven, and whose god's a fee?
In the first rank fam'd Sooterkin is seen,
Of happy visage and enchanting mien,
A lazy modish son of melancholy spleen;
Whose every feature flourishes in print,
And early pride first taught the youth to squint.
What niggard father would begrudge his brass,
When travell'd son doth homebred boy surpass—
Went out a fopling and return'd an ass?
Of thought so dark, that no erroneous hit
E'er show'd the lucid beauties of his wit.
When scanty fee expects a healing pill,
With careless yawn he nods upon the bill,
Secure to hit-who never fails to kill.
When costive punk, in penitential case,
Sits squeezing out her soul in vile grimace,
To ease his patient, he prescribes-his face!
Well may the wretch a Providence disown,
Who thinks no wisdom brighter than his own:
Long since he left religion in the lurch,
Who yet would raise the glories of the church,
And stickles for its rights, who ne'er comes near the
porch.
Immortal Crab stands firmly to the truth,
And with sage nod commands the list'ning youth;
a Nutley, a lawyer.
b Dr. Worth, a physician.
Explained, in the Lanesborough manuscript, to be arch-
deacon Neele, but averred by another authority to mean a
"Mr. Hedge Young, or Hogg Young, the late lord-chancellor's
purse-bearer."
THE SWAN TRIPE CLUB IN DUBLIN.
695
In whom rank spleen has all its vigour shown,
And blended all its curses into one;
O'erflowing gall has changed the crimson flood,
And turn'd to vinegar the wretch's blood.
Nightly on bended knees the musty put
Still saints the spigot and adores the butt;
With fervent zeal the flowing liquor plies,
But damns the moderate bottle for its size.
His liquid vows cut swiftly through the air,
When glorious red has whetted him to prayer;
Thrifty of time, and frugal of his ways,
Tippling he rails, and as he rails he prays.
In the sage list great Mooncalf is enroll'd,
Famed as the Delphic oracle of old.
Propitious dulness and a senseless joy
Shone at his birth and bless'd the hopeful boy ;
Who utters wonders without sense of pain,
And scorns the crabbed labour of his brain.
Fleeting as air his words outstrip the wind,
Whilst the sage tardy meaning lags behind.
No saucy foresight dares his will control,
Or stop the impetuous motion of his soul;
His soul, which struggles in her dark abode,
Crush'd and o'erlay'd with the unwieldy load:
Prevailing dulness did his sense betray,
And cramp'd his reason to extend his clay;
His wit contracted to a narrow span,
A yard of idiot to an inch of man.
Hail, mighty dunce, thou largest of thy kind,
How well thy mien is suited to thy mind!
What if the lords and commons can't agree,
Thou dear, dull, happy thing, what is't to thee?
Sit down contented with thy present store,
Heaven ne'er design'd thee to be wise and poor:
Trust to thy fate; whatever parties join,
Thy want of wit obstructs thy want of coin.
As when imperial Rome beheld her state
Grown faint and struggling with impending fate;
When barbarous nations on her ruins trod,
And no kind Jove appear'd her guardian god;
A sacred goose could all her fears disperse,
And save the mistress of the universe:
Of equal fame the great example be,
Our church's safety we expect from thee:
In thee, great man, the saving brood remains,
Of equal piety and equal brains;
In this we differ but in point of name:
Unlike the Romans we; but thou, our goose, the
same.
[find
And now with solemn grace the council sat,
And the third flask had raised a warm debate;
When Faction, entering, walk'd the giddy maze,
Sworn foe and noted enemy to peace;
And, taking Grimbeard's shape, the silence broke,
And in shrill voice the eager fury spoke.
"Be witness, Heaven, how much I'm pleased to
Such gallant friends, and of so brave a mind;
Souls fit to rule the world, and proudly sit
The noblest sons of piety and wit.
Uncommon vigour in your looks I spy,
Resolved the utmost of your force to try;
Bravely to stickle for your church's laws,
And shed a generous influence on her cause.
See how with grief she hangs her pensive head,
Whilst trickling tears, upon her garments shed,
Mourn all her lustre and her beauty fled:
In hair dishevell'd, and with bosom bare,
With melancholy sounds she fills the air.
Would ye, my friends, the weighty business know,
And learn the cruel reason of her woe?
The cause she has to grieve, the world believes,
Is this-hem-hem-why, 'tis enough she grieves
What sons from tears their flinty souls can keep,
And with dry eyes behold their mother weep?
:
Ah! stop the deluge of her watery store,
And let her taste those joys she felt before!
"When William (curse upon that hated name,
For ever blotted and unknown to fame!)—
When William in imperial glory shone,
And, to our grief, possess'd Britannia's throne;
Mark with what malice he our church debased,
Her sons neglected, and her rites defaced :
To canting zeal design'd her form a slave,
And meant to ruin what he came to save.
What though the world be fill'd with his alarms,
And fainting Gallia trembled at his arms;
Yet still the doughty hero did no more
Than Julius once, and Ammon, did before.
Is this the idol of the people's love,
The poor mock-puppet of a ruling Jove?
Sorrel, we owe his hasty fatea to thee,
Thou lucky horse; oh! may thy memory be
Fragrant to all, as it is sweet to me!
Too far, I fear, the vile infection's spread,
Since Anna courts the party which he led,
And treads the hated footsteps of the dead.
If so, what now can we expect to hear,
But black effects of those damn'd ills we fear?
Your fat endowments shall be torn away,
And to Geneva zeal become an easy prey;
Cold element shall give your guts the gripes,
And, ah! no more you shall indulge in tripes.
No Sunday pudding shall adorn the board,
Or burn the chaps of its too eager lord:
No gentle Abigail shall caudles make,
Nor cook the jellies for the chaplain's back ;
Long-winded schismatics shall rule the roast,
And father Christmas mourn his revels lost.
Rouse then, my friends, and all your forces join,
And act with vigour in our great design:
What though our danger is not really great?
'Tis brave to oppose a government we hate.
Poison the nation with your jealous fears,
And set the fools together by the ears:
Whilst with malicious joy we calmly sit,
And smile to see the triumphs of our wit :
Sound well the college; and with nicest skill [will.
Inflame the beardless boys, and bend them to your
What though unmoved her learned sons have stood,
Nor sacrificed to spleen their country's good?
Yet search the tree, and sure there may be found
Some branches tainted, though the trunk be sound;
Show them the lure which never fails to hit ;
Approve their briskness, and admire their wit.
Youth against flattery has no defence,
Fools still are cheated with the bait of sense;
Glean e'en the schools from lechery and birch,
And teach the youngsters to defend the church.
'Tis fools we want, and of the largest size :
'Twould spoil our cause to practise on the wise:
The wise are eagles of the sharpest ken,
And calmly weigh the merits and the men;
Pierce through the cobweb veil of erring sense,
And know the truth of zeal from the pretence :
Whilst fools, like game-cocks, are the slaves of show,
And never ask a cause, but fly upon the foe:
Chance only guides them wandering in the night,
When in an age they stumble on the right:
God never gave a fool the gift of sight."
He said with joy the pleased assembly rose ;
"Well moved!" they cried, and murmur'd their
applause;
When, lo, before the board, confess'd in sight,
Stepp'd forth a heavenly guest serenely bright;
No mortal beauty could with hers compare,
Or poet's fancy form a maid so fair;
a Sorrel was the name of the horse on which king William
rode when he received his mortal injury by a fall.
696
THE SWAN TRIPE CLUB IN DUBLIN.
Around her head immortal glories shine,
And her mild air confess'd the nymph divine;
Whilst thus she spake :
"Ask not, my frighted sons, from whence I came,
But mark me well; Religion is my name;
An angel once, but now a fury grown,
Too often talk'd of, but too little known:
Is it for me, my sons, that ye engage,
And spend the fury of your idle rage?
'Tis false; unmanly spleen your bosom warms,
And a pretended zeal your fancy charms.
Where have I taught you in the sacred page
To construe moderation into rage;
To affront the power from whence your safety springs,
And poorly blast the memory of kings?
Branded with infamy, ye shun the light,
But court, like birds obscene, the covert of the night.
Is then unlawful riot fit to be
The great supporter of my church and me?
Think ye, weak men, she's of her foes afraid,
Or wants the assistance of your feeble aid?
When round her throne seraphic warriors stand
And form upon her side a heavenly band:
When, fix'd as fate, her deep foundation lies,
And spreads where'er my ANNA's glory flies.
Think on the intended ruins of the day,
When to proud Rome ye were design'd a prey :
With wonder read those fatal times again,
And call to mind the melancholy scene:
When down its rapid stream the torrent bore
Your country's laws, and safety was no more;
Torn from your altars, ye were forced to roam
In needy exile from your native home.
'Twas then, my sons, your mighty William rose,
And bravely fell like lightning on your foes:
With royal pity he deplored your fate,
And stood the Atlas of your sinking state.
When sacrifice on idle altars slain
Polluted all the isle and dyed the plain;
Rome's mob of saints did all your temples fill,
And consecrated groves crown'd every hill;
'Twas then, Josiah-like, that he defaced
Their pagan rites, and laid their altars waste;
Drove out their idols from their loved abodes,
And pounded into dust their molten gods:
Israel's true Lord was to his rule restored,
Again his name was heard and was again adored.
"Wondering, ye saw your great deliverer come,
But, while he warr'd abroad, ye rail'd at home;
Dreadfully gay in arms, but scorn'd in peace,
The useless buckler of inglorious ease:
O poor and short-lived glory and renown!
O false unenvied pleasures of a crown!
So soon are all thy shining honours fled,
Traduced while living, and defamed when dead.
Strange fate of heroes, who like comets blaze,
And with a sudden light the world amaze:
But when with fading beams they quit the skies,
No more to shine the wonder of our eyes;
Their glories spent, and all their fiery store,
We scorn the omens which we fear'd before.
My royal Anne, whom every virtue crowns,
Feels your ill-govern'd rage, nor 'scapes your frowns;
Your want of duty ye supply with spite,
Traduce her councils, and her heroes slight;
Lampoon the mildness of her easy sway,
And sicken at the light of her superior day;
Poison her sweets of life with groundless fears,
And fill her royal breast with anxious cares.
What! such a queen, where Art and Nature join
To hit the copy of a form divine:
Unerring Wisdom purged the dross away,
And form'd your Anna of a nobler clay;
Breathing a soul in which in glory shone
Goodness innate, and virtue like its own:
She knows how far engaging sweetness charms,
And conquers more by mildness than by arms;
Like Sampson's riddle in the sacred song,
A springing sweet still flowing from the strong;
Like hasty sparks her slow resentment dies,
Her rigour lagging, but her mercy flies.
Hail, pious princess! mightiest of thy name,
Though last begotten, yet the first in fame :
Those glorious heroines we in story see
Were but the fainter types of greater thee.
Let others take a lustre from the throne;
You shine with brighter glories of your own,
Add worth to worth, and dignify a crown.
Oft have I mark'd with what a studious care
My words you ponder and my laws revere:
To thee, great queen, what elogies are due,
Who both protect the flock and feed the shepherds
For which I still preside o'er thy alarms,
And add a shining lustre to thy arms:
I form'd the battle, and I gave the word,
[too!a
And rode with conquest on thy Ormond's sword:
When Anjou's fleet yielded its Indian store,
And at thy sacred feet deposed the silver ore;
I sent the goddes, when Victoria came,
And raised thy Churchill to immortal fame,
And Hochstet's bloody field advanced the hero's
name.
Nor shall thy glories or thy triumphs cease,
But thy rough wars shall soften into peace.
Charlesb shall from thee his diadem receive,
And shining pomp which you alone can give;
The Gallic lion, list'ning at his shore,
Shall fear to tempt the British dangers more,
But sculk in deserts where he used to roar :
Admiring worlds before thy throne shall stand,
And willing nations bend to thy command.
"For you, ye inveterate enemies to peace,
Whom kings can ne'er oblige, nor heaven can please ;
Who, blindly zealous, into faction run,
And make those dangers you'd be thought to shun;
For shame, the transports of your rage give o'er,
And let your civil feuds be heard no more:
To the wise conduct of my Anna trust;
Know your own good, and to yourselves be just:
And, when with grief you see your brother stray,
Or in a night of error lose his way,
Direct his wandering, and restore the day.
To guide his steps, afford your kindest aid,
And gently pity whom ye can't persuade ;
Leave to avenging Heaven his stubborn will,
For, O, remember, he's your brother still:
Let healing mercy through your actions shine,
And let your lives confess your cause divine."
Frowning, the goddess spoke, and straight with-
drew,
[heard.
Scatt❜ring ambrosial odours as she flew;
Her trembling sons, immoderately scared,
Fled from th' uneasy truths which suddenly they
No. II.
THE STORY OF ORPHEUS.
BURLESQUED.
ORPHEUS, a one-eyed blearing Thracian,
The crowder of that barb'rous nation,
Was ballad-singer by vocation;
Who, up and down the country strolling,
And with his strains the mob cajoling,
a
Alluding to her grants to the clergy.
The archduke Charles.
ORPHEUS-ACTÆON.
697
Charm'd 'em as much as each man knows
Our modern farces do our beaux :
To hear whose voice they left their houses,
Their food, their handicrafts, and spouses;
Whilst, by the mercury of his song,.
He threw the staring, gaping throng
(A thing deserving admiration)
Into a copious salivation.
From hence came all those monstrous stories,
That to his lays wild beasts danced borees;
That after him, where'er he rambled,
The lion ramp'd and the bear gamboll'd,
And rocks and caves (their houses) ambled:
For sure, the monster mob includes
All beasts, stones, stocks, in solitudes.
He had a spouse, yclept Eurydice,
As tight a lass as e'er your eye did see;
Who, being caress'd one day by Morpheus,
In absence of her husband, Orpheus,
As in the god's embrace she lay,
Died, not by metaphor they say,
But the ungrateful literal way:
For a modern's [Tasso] pleased to say by't,
From sleep to death there's but a way-bit.
Orpheus at first, to appearance grieving,
For one he had oft wish'd damn'd while living,
That he might play her her farewell,
Resolved to take a turn to hell
(For spouse, he guess'd, was gone to the devil) :
There was a husband damnably civil!
Playing a merry strain that day,
Upon th' infernal king's highway,
He caper'd on, as who should say,
Since spouse has pass'd the Stygian ferry,
Since spouse is damn'd, I will be merry;
And wights who travel that way daily
Jog on by his example gaily.
Thus scraping, he to hell advanced :
When he came there the devil danced;
All hell was with the frolic taken,
And with a huge huzza was shaken.
All hell broke loose, and they who were
One moment past plunged in despair,
Sung, Hang sorrow, cast away care!
But Pluto, with a spiteful prank,
Ungrateful devil, did Orpheus thank.
Orpheus, said he, I like thy strain
So well, that here's thy wife again :
But on those terms receive the blessing,
Till thou'rt on earth forbear possessing.
He who has play'd like thee in hell
Might e'en do t'other thing as well;
And shades of our eternal night
Were not design'd for such delight.
Therefore, if such in hell thou usest,
Thy spouse immediately thou losest.
Quoth Orpheus, I am manacled, I see:
You and your gift be damn'd, thought he;
And shall be, if my skill don't fail me,
And if the devil does not ail me.
Now Orpheus saw importance free,
By which once more a slave was he.
The damn'd changed presently their notes,
And stretch'd with hideous howl their throats;
And two and two together link'd,
Their chains with horrid music clink'd;
And in the concert, yell and fetlock
Express'd the harmony of wedlock.
He, by command, then lugg'd his dowdy
To Acheron, with many a how-d'ye ;
But, as the boat was tow'rd them steering,
The rogue, with wicked ogle leering,
Darted at her fiery glances,
Which kindled in her furious. fancies.
Her heart did thick as any drum beat,
Alarming Amazon to combat.
He soon perceives it, and too wise is
Not to lay hold on such a crisis :
His moiety on the bank he threw,
Whilst thousand devils look'd askew.
Thus spouse, who knew what long repentance
Was to ensue by Pluto's sentence,
Could not forbear her recreation
One poor half-day, to avoid damnation.
Her from his arms the Furies wrung,
And into hell again they flung.
He, singing thus, repass'd the ferry,—
"Since spouse is damn'd, I will be merry."
No. III.
ACTEON;
OR, THE ORIGINAL OF HORN FAIR.
SOME time about the month of July,
Or else our ancient authors do lie,
Diana, whom poetic noddies
Would have us think to be some goddess,
(Though, in plain truth, a witch she was,
Who sold grey peas at Ratcliff-cross,)
Went to the up-setting of a neighbour,
Having before been at her labour.
The gossips had of punch a bowlful!
Which made them all sing, O be joyful!
A folly took them in the noddle,
Their over-heated bums to coddle;
So they at Limehouse took a sculler,
And cramm'd it so, no egg was fuller.
With tide of ebb, they got to Eriff,
Where Punchinello once was sheriff.
Our jovial crew then made a halt,
To drink some Nantz, at what-d'ye-call't.
And thence, if any cared a fart for't
Went to a stream that comes from Dartford ;
Where all unrigg'd, in good decorum,
As naked as their mothers bore them
And soon their tattling did outdo
An Irish howl or hubbubboo.
"O la," cries one, to joke the aptest,
"Methinks I'm grown an anabaptist;
If to be dipp'd to grace prefers,
I'm graced and soused o'er head and ears.”
Whilst thus she talk'd, all of a sudden.
They grew as mute as hasty-pudding:
Daunted at th' unexpected sounds
Of hollaing men and yelping hounds,
Who soon came up and stood at bay
At those who wish'd themselves away.
But, to increase their sad disaster,
After the curs appear'd their master;
Acteon named, a country gent,
Who, hard by somewhere, lived in Kent;
And hunting loved more than his victuals,
And cry of hounds 'bove sound of fiddles.
He saw his dogs neglect their sport,
Having sprung game of better sort;
Which put him in a fit of laughter,
Not dreaming what was coming after.
Bless me! how the young lecher stared!
How pleasingly the spark was scared!
With hidden charms his eyes he fed,
And to our females thus he said:
Hey, jingo! what the de'il's the matter;
Do mermaids swim in Dartford water?
The poets tell us they have skill in
That sweet melodious art of singing:
If to that tribe you do belong,
Faith, ladies, come-let's have a song.
698
ACTEON-THE FAMOUS SPEECHMAKER.
What, silent! ne'er a word to spare me?
Nay, frown not, for you cannot scare me.
Ha, now I see you are mere females,
Made to delight and pleasure us males.
Faith, ladies, do not think me lavish,
If five or six of you I ravish.
I'gad, I must.” This did so frighten
The gossips, they seem'd thunder-smitten.
At last Diana takes upon her
To vindicate their injured honour;
And by some necromantic spells,
Strong charms, witchcraft or something else,
In twinkling of the shell of oyster,
Transmogrified the rampant royster
Into a thing some call a no-man,
Unfit to love or please a woman.
The poets, who love to deceive you,
(For, once believe them, who'd believe you?)
Say that, to quench his lecherous fire,
Into a stag she changed the squire ;
Which made him fly o'er hedges skipping
Till his own hounds had spoil'd his tripping.
But I, who am less given to lying,
Than jolly rakes to think of dying,
Do truly tell you here between us,
She only spoil'd the spark for Venus;
Which soon his blood did so much alter,
He cared for love less than for halter:
No more the sight of naked beauty
Could prompt his vigour to its duty:
And in this case, you may believe,
He hardly stay'd to take his leave.
He had a wife, and she, poor woman,
Soon found in him something uncommon.
In vain she strived, young, fair, and plump,
To rouse to joy the senseless lump.
She from a drone, alas! sought honey,
And from an empty pocket money.
Thus used, she for her ease contrives
That sweet revenge of slighted wives;
And soon of horns a pair most florid
Were by her grafted on his forehead;
At sight of which his shame and anger
Made him first curse, then soundly bang her.
And then his rage, which overpower'd him,
Made poets say his dogs devour'd him.
At Cuckold's Point he died with sadness
(Few in his case now show such madness ;)
Whilst gossips, pleased at his sad case,
Straight fix'd his horns just on the place,
Lest the memory on't should be forgotten,
When they, poor souls, were dead and rotten;
And then from queen Dick got a patent,
On Charlton-green to set up a tent;
Where once a-year, with friends from Wapping,
They tell how they were taken napping.
;
The following age improved the matter,
And made two dishes of a platter.
The tent where they used to repair
Is now become a jolly fair;
Where, every eighteenth of October,
Comes citizen demure and sober,
With basket, shovel, pickaxe, stalking,
To make a way for's wife to walk in:
Where, having laid out single money,
In buying horns for dearest honey,
O'er furmity, pork, pig, and ale,
They cheer their souls, and tell this tale.
THE FAMOUS SPEECHMAKER OF
ENGLAND;
Or Baron (alias Barren) Lovel's Charge at the
Assizes at Exon, April 5, 1710.
-Risum teneatis?
FROM London to Exon,
By special direction,
Came down the world's wonder,
Sir Salathiel Blunder,
With a quoif on his head
As heavy as lead;
And thus open'd and said:
Gentlemen of the Grand Inquest,
Her majesty, mark it,
Appointed this circuit
For me and my brother,
Before any other;
To execute laws,
As you may suppose,
Upon such as offenders have been.
So then, not to scatter
More words on the matter,
We're beginning just now to begin.
But hold-first and foremost, I must enter a clause,
As touching and concerning our excellent laws;
Which here I aver
Are better by far
Than them all put together abroad and beyond sea.
For I ne'er read the like, nor e'er shall, I fancy
The laws of our land
Don't abet, but withstand,
Inquisition and thrall,
And whatever may gall,
And fire withal;
And sword that devours
Wherever it scowers:
They preserve liberty and property, for which men
pull and hale so,
And they are made for the support of good govern-
ment also.
Her majesty, knowing
The best way of going
To work for the weal of the nation,
Builds on that rock
Which all storms will mock,
Since religion is made the foundation.
And, I tell you to boot, she
Resolves resolutely
No promotion to give
To the best man alive,
In church or in state,
(I'm an instance of that,)
But only to such of a good reputation
For temper, morality, and moderation.
Fire! fire! a wild-fire,
*
*
*
*a
Which greatly disturbs the queen's peace,
Lies running about;
And if you don't put it out,
(That's positive) will increase:
And any may spy,
With half of an eye,
That it comes from our priests and papistical fry.
Ye have one of these fellows,
With fiery bellows,
Come hither to blow and to puff here;
Who, having been toss'd
From pillar to post,
At last vents his rascally stuff here:
Which to such as are honest must sound very oddly,
When they ought to preach nothing but what's very
godly;
a A line seems to be wanting here
THE FAMOUS SPEECHMAKER.
699
As here from this place we charge you to do,
As ye'll answer to man, besides ye know who,
Ye have a diocesan,-a
But I don't know the man;-
They tell me, however,
The man's a good liver,
And fiery never!
Now, ye under-pullers,
That wear such black colours,
How well would it look,
If his measures ye took,
Thus for head and for rump
Together to jump;
For there's none deserve places,
I speak't to their faces,
But men of such graces,
And I hope he will never prefer any asses;
Especially when I'm so confident on't,
For reasons of state, that her majesty won't.
Know, I myself, I
Was present and by
At the great trial, where there was a great company,
Of a turbulent preacher, who, cursedly hot, [plot,
I would ask any man
Of them all that maintain
Their passive obedience
With such mighty vehemence,
That damn'd doctrine, I trow!
What he means by it, ho',
To trump it up now?
Or to tell me in short,
What need there is for't?
Ye may say I am hot,
I say I am not;
Only warm, as the subject on which I am got.
There are those alive yet,
If they do not forget,
[state:
May remember what mischiefs it did church and
Or at least must have heard
The deplorable calamities
It drew upon families,
About sixty years ago and upward.
And now, do ye see,
Whoever they be
That make such an oration
In our protestant nation,
Turn'd the fifth of November, even the gun-powder As though church was all on a fire,—
Into impudent railing, and the devil knows what;
Exclaiming like fury-it was at Paul's, London-
How church was in danger, and like to be undone,
And so gave the lie to gracious queen Anne;
And, which is far worse, to our parliament-men:
And then printed a book,
Into which men did look;
True, he made a good text;
But what follow'd next
Was naught but a dunghill of sordid abuses,
Instead of sound doctrine, with proofs to't, and uses.
It was high time of day
That such inflamma-
tion should be extinguish'd without more delay;
But there was no engine could possibly do't,
Till the commons play'd theirs, and so quite put it
So the man was tried for't,
Before highest court:
Now it's plain to be seen
It's his principles I mean,
[out.
Where they suffer'd this noisy and his lawyers to
Which over, the blade
A poor punishment had
For that racket he made.
By which ye may know
They thought, as I do,
[bellow:
That he is but at best an inconsiderable fellow.
Upon this I find here,
And everywhere,
That the country rides rusty, and is all out of geer:
And for what?
May I not
In opinion vary,
And think the contrary,
But it must create
Unfriendly debate,
And disunion straight;
When no reason in nature
Can be given of the matter,
Any more than for shapes or for different stature?
If you love your dear selves, your religion or queen,
Ye ought in good manners to be peaceable men:
For nothing disgusts her
Like making a bluster:
And your making this riot
Is what she would cry at,
Since all her concern's for our welfare and quiet.
Dr. Offspring Blackall. He was made bishop of Exeter
in 1707.
With whatever cloak
They may cover their talk,
And wheedle the folk,
That the oaths they have took,
As our governors strictly require ;-
I say they are men—(and I'm a judge ye all know)—
That would our most excellent laws overthrow ;
For the greater part of them to church never go;
Or, what's much the same, it by very great chance is,
If e'er they partake of her wise ordinances.
Their aim is, no doubt,
Were they made to speak out,
[rout;
To pluck down the queen, that they make all this
And to set up, moreover,
A bastardly brother;
Or at least to prevent the house of Hanover.
Ye gentlemen of the jury,
What means all this fury,
Of which I'm inform'd by good hands I assure ye;
This insulting of persons by blows and rude speeches,
And breaking of windows, which you know maketh
Ye ought to resent it,
[breaches?
And in duty present it,
For the law is against it;
Not only the actors engaged in this job,
But those that encourage and set on the mob:
The mob, a paw word, and which I ne'er mention,
But must in this place, for the sake of distinction.
I hear that some bailiffs and some justices
Have strove what they could all this rage to suppress;
And I hope many more
Will exert the like power,
Since none will, depend on't,
Get a jot of preferment,
But men of this kidney, as I told you before.-
I'll tell you a story: Once upon a time,
Some hot-headed fellows must needs take a whim,
And so were so weak
('Twas a mighty mistake)
To pull down and abuse
Bawdy-houses and stews;
Who, tried by the laws of the realm for high-treason,
Were hang'd, drawn, and quarter'd for that very
When the time came about
For us all to set out,
We went to take leave of the queen;
Where were great men of worth,
Great heads, and so forth,
The greatest that ever were seen:
[reason.
700
PARODY ON THE RECORDER OF BLESSINGTON'S ADDRESS.
And she gave us a large
And particular charge ;-
Good part on't indeed
jesty's army, who drew their first breath in this
country, sharing in the good fortune of those who so
effectually put in execution the command of your
gallant enterprising general, whose twin-battles have,
with his own title of Marlborough, given immor-
Is quite out of my head ;-
But I remember she said,
We should recommend peace and good neighbour- tality to the otherwise perishing names of Schellen-
hood where-
soever we came; and so I do here;
For that every one, not only men and their wives,
Should do all that they can to lead peaceable lives;
And told us withal that she fully expected
A special account how ye all stood affected;
When we've been at St. James's you'll hear of the
Again then I charge ye,
[matter.
Ye men of the clergy,
That ye follow the track all
Of your own bishop Blackall,
And preach, as ye should,
What's savoury and good;
And together all cling,
As it were in a string;
Not falling out, quarrelling one with another,
berg and Hogstete: actions that speak him born
under stars as propitious to England as that he now
wears, on both which he has so often reflected lustre
as to have now abundantly repaid the glory they
once lent him. Nor can we but congratulate with
a joy proportioned to the success of your majesty's
fleet our last campaign at sea, since by it we observe
the French obliged to steer their wonted course for
security to their ports; and Gibraltar, the Spaniards'
ancient defence, bravely stormed, possessed, and
maintained by your majesty's subjects.
May the supplies for reducing the exorbitant power
of France be such as may soon turn your wreaths of
laurel into branches of olive: that after the toils of
a just and honourable war, carried on by a confe-
deracy of which your majesty is most truly, as of the
Now we're treating with monsieur,-that son of his faith, styled defender, we may live to enjoy, under
mother.
Then proceeded on the common matters of the law,
and concluded-
Once more, and no more, since few words are best,
I charge you all present, by way of request,——
•
If ye honour as I do
Our dear royal widow,
Or have any compassion
For church or the nation,
And would live a long while
In continual smile,
And eat roast and boil,
And not be forgotten
When ye are dead and rotten,-
That ye would be quiet and peaceably dwell,
And never fall out, but p-s in a quill.
PARODY
ON THE RECORDER OF BLESSINGTON'S ADDRESS TO
QUEEN Anne.
Mr. William Crowe, Recorder of Blessington's Ad-
dress to her Majesty, as copied from the London
Gazette.
To the Queen's most Excellent Majesty,
The humble Address of the Sovereign, Recorder,
Burgesses, and Freemen, of the Borough of Bless-
ington.
May it please your Majesty,
THOUGH We stand almost last on the roll of boroughs
of this your majesty's kingdom of Ireland, and there-
fore, in good manners to our elder brothers, press
but late among the joyful crowd about your royal
throne, yet we beg leave to assure your majesty
that we come behind none in our good affection to
your sacred person and government; insomuch that
the late surprising accounts from Germany have
filled us with a joy not inferior to any of our fellow-
subjects.
We heard with transport that the English warmed
the field to that degree that thirty squadrons, part of
the vanquished enemy, were forced to fly to water,
not able to stand their fire, and drank their last
draught in the Danube, for the waste they had before
committed on its injured banks, thereby putting an
end to their master's long-boasted victories: a glo-
rious push indeed, and worthy a general of the queen
of England. And we are not a little pleased to find
several gentlemen in considerable posts of your ma-
your majesty's auspicious government, the blessings
of a profound and lasting peace; a peace beyond the
power of him to violate, who, but for his own un-
reasonable conveniency, destructive always of his
neighbours, never yet kept any. And, to complete
our happiness, may your majesty again prove to
your own family what you have been so eminently
to the true church-a nursing mother. So wish and
so pray, may it please your majesty, your majesty's
most dutiful and loyal subjects and devoted humble
servants.
This address was presented January 17, 1705.
Mr. William Crowe's Address to her Majesty, turned
into Metre.
FROM a town that consists of a church and a steeple,
With three or four houses and as many people,
There went an address in great form and good order,
Composed as 'tis said, by Will Crowe, their recorder.
And thus it began to an excellent tune:
Forgive us, good madam, that we did not as soon
As the rest of the cities and towns of this nation
Wish your majesty joy on this glorious occasion.
Not that we're less hearty or loyal than others,
But having a great many sisters and brothers,
Our borough in riches and years far exceeding,
We let them speak first to show our good breeding.
We have heard with much transport and great
satisfaction
Of the victory obtain'd in the late famous action,
When the field was so warm'd that it soon grew too
hot,
[pot,
For the French and Bavarians, who had all gone to
But that they thought best in great haste to retire,
And leap into the water for fear of the fire.
But says the good river, Ye fools, plague confound ye,
Do ye think to swim through me, and that I'll not
drown ye,
Who have ravish'd, and murder'd, and play'd such
damn'd pranks,
And trod down the grass on my much injured banks?
Then swelling with anger and rage to the brink,
He gave the poor monsieur his last draught of drink.
So it plainly appears they were very well bang'd,
And that some may be drown'd who deserved to be
hang'd.
[deed:
Great Marlbro' well push'd: 'twas well push'd in-
Oh, how we adore you because you succeed!
And now I may say it, I hope without blushing,
That you have got twins by your violent pushing;
JACK FRENCHMAN'S LAMENTATION-THE GARDEN PLOT.
701
Twin battles I mean, that will ne'er be forgotten,
But live and be talk'd of when we're dead and rotten.
Let other nice lords sculk at home from the wars,
Prank'd up and adorn'd with garters and stars,
Which but twinkle like those in a cold frosty night;
While to yours you are adding such lustre and light,
That if you proceed I'm sure very soon
"Twill be brighter and larger than the sun or the
A blazing star, I foretell, 'twill prove to the Gaul,
That portends of his empire the ruin and fall.
[moon :
Now God bless your majesty and our lord Mur-
rough,
And send him in safety and health to his borough.
JACK FRENCHMAN'S LAMENTATION;
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.
To the Tune of "I'll tell thee, Dick," &c.
I.
Ye commons and peers,
Pray lend me your ears,
I'll sing you a song, (if I can,)
How Lewis le Grand,
Was put to a stand,
By the arms of our gracious queen Anne.
II.
How his army so great
Had a total defeat,
And close by the river Dender ;
Where his grandchildren twain,
For fear of being slain,
Gallop'd off with the popish pretender.
III.
To a steeple on high,
The battle to spy,
Up mounted these clever young men,
But when from the spire
They saw so much fire,
Most cleverly came down again.
IV.
Then on horseback they got
All on the same spot,
By advice of their cousin Vendosme;
O Lord! cried out he,
Unto young Burgundy,
Would your brother and you were at home!
V.
While this he did say,
Without more delay
Away the young gentry fled;
Whose heels for that work,
Were much lighter than cork,
Though their hearts were as heavy as lead.
VI.
Not so did behave
Young Hanover brave,
In this bloody field I assure ye:
When his war-horse was shot
He valued it not,
But fought it on foot like a fury.
VII.
Full firmly he stood,
As became his high-blood,
Which runs in his viens so blue:
For this gallant young man,
Being a-kin to QUEEN ANNE,
Did as (were she a man) she would do.
VIII.
What a racket was here,
(I think 'twas last year,)
For a little misfortune in Spain!
For by letting 'em win,
We have drawn the puts in,
To lose all they're worth this campaign.
IX.
Though Bruges and Ghent
To Monsieur we lent,
With interest they shall repay 'em ;
While Paris may sing
With her sorrowful king,
Nunc dimittis instead of Te Deum.
X.
From this dream of success,
They'll awaken, we guess,
At the sound of great Marlborough's drums :
They may think, if they will,
Of Almanza still,
But 'tis Blenheim wherever he comes.
XI.
O Lewis perplex'd,
What general next!
Thou hast hitherto changed in vain :
He has beat 'em all round;
If no new one's found,
He shall beat 'em over again.
XII.
We'll let Tallard out,
If he'll take t'other bout;
And much he's improved, let me tell ye,
With Nottingham ale
At every meal,
And good beef and pudding in belly,
XIII.
But as losers at play
Their dice throw away,
While the winners do still win on ;
Let who will command,
Thou hadst better disband,
For, old Bully, thy doctors are gone.
THE GARDEN PLOT.
1709.
WHEN Naboth's vineyard look'd so fine,
The king cried out, "Would this were mine !''
And yet no reason could prevail
To bring the owner to a sale.
Jezebel saw, with haughty pride,
How Ahab grieved to be denied ;
And thus accosted him with scorn:
"Shall Naboth make a monarch mourn?
A king, and weep! The ground's your own;
I'll vest the garden in the crown.
With that she hatch'd a plot, and made
Poor Naboth answer with his head ;
And when his harmless blood was spilt,
The ground became his forfeit guilt.
Poor Hall, renown'd for comely hair,
Whose hands perhaps were not so fair,
Yet had a Jezebel as near;
Hall, of small scripture conversation,
Yet, howe'er Hungerford's quotation,
By some strange accident, had got
The story of this garden-plot—
Wisely foresaw he might have reason
To dread a modern bill of treason,
If Jezebel should please to want
His small addition to her grant:
Therefore resolved, in humble sort,
To begin first and make his court;
And, seeing nothing else would do,
Gave a third part, to save the other two.
702
VIRTUES OF SID HAMET'S ROD-THE RECORDER'S SPEECH.
THE VIRTUES OF SID HAMET, THE
MAGICIAN'S ROD. 1710.
THE success of this jeu d'esprit was prodigious. The allusion
to Godolphin's family name, Sidney, and to his staff of
office, are sufliciently obvious.
THE rod was but a harmless wand
While Moses held it in his hand;
But, soon as e'er he laid it down,
'Twas a devouring serpent grown.
Our great magician, Hamet Sid,
Reverses what the prophet did:
His rod was honest English wood,
That senseless in a corner stood,
Till, metamorphosed by his grasp,
It grew an all-devouring asp;
Would hiss, and sting, and roll, and twist,
By the mere virtue of his fist:
But, when he laid it down, as quick
Resumed the figure of a stick.
So, to her midnight feasts, the hag
Rides on a broomstick for a nag,
That, raised by magic of her breech,
O'er sea and land conveys the witch;
But with the morning dawn resumes
The peaceful state of common brooms.
They tell us something strange and odd,
About a certain magic rod,b
That, bending down its top, divines
Whene'er the soil has golden mines;
Where there are none it stands erect,
Scorning to show the least respect:
As ready was the wand of Sid
To bend where golden mines were hid :
In Scottish hills found precious ore,'
Where none e'er look'd for it before;
And by a gentle bow divined
How well a cully's purse was lined;
To a forlorn and broken rake
Stood without motion like a stake.
The rod of Hermes was renown'd
For charms above and under ground;
To sleep could mortal eyelids fix,
And drive departed souls to Styx.
That rod was a just type of Sid's,
Which o'er a British senate's lids
Could scatter opium full as well,
And drive as many souls to hell.
Sid's rod was slender, white, and tall,
Which oft he used to fish withal;
A place was fasten'd to the hook,
And many score of gudgeons took ;
Yet still so happy was his fate,
He caught his fish and saved his bait.
Sid's brethren of the conjuring tribe
A circle with their rod describe,
Which proves a magical redoubt
To keep mischievous spirits out.
Sid's rod was of a larger stride,
And made a circle thrice as wide,
Where spirits throng'd with hideous din,
And he stood there to take them in;
But when th' enchanted rod was broke
They vanish'd in a stinking smoke.
Achilles' sceptre was of wood,
Like Sid's, but nothing near so good;
Though down from ancestors divine
Transmitted to the hero's line;
Thence, through a long descent of kings,
Came an HEIRLOOM, as Homer sings.
Though this description looks so big,
That sceptre was a sapless twig,
Earl Godolphin.
The virgula divina, said to be attracted by minerals.
Supposed to allude to the Union.
Which, from the fatal day, when first
It left the forest where 'twas nursed,
As Homer tells us o'er and o'er,
Nor leaf, nor fruit, nor blossom bore.
Sid's sceptre, full of juice, did shoot
In golden boughs and golden fruit;
And he, the dragon never sleeping,
Guarded each fair Hesperian pippin.
No hobby-horse, with gorgeous top,
The dearest in Charles Mather's shop,
Or glittering tinsel of May-fair,
Could with the rod of Sid compare.
Dear Sid, then why wert thou so mad
To break thy rod like naughty lad?
You should have kiss'd it in your distress,
And then returned to your mistress;
Or made it a Newmarket switch,
And not a rod for thy own breech.
But since old Sid has broken this,
His next may be a rod in piss.
THE RECORDER'S SPEECH TO HIS
GRACE THE DUKE OF ORMOND,
4TH JULY, 1711;
WITH A PARODY UPON IT, WHICH IS PERHAPS BY SWIFT.
THIS city can omit no opportunity of expressing
their hearty affection for her majesty's person and
government; and their regard for your grace, who
has the honour of representing her in this kingdom.
We retain, my lord, a grateful remembrance of
the mild and just administration of the government
of this kingdom by your noble ancestors; and, when
we consider the share your grace had in the happy
Revolution in 1688, and the many good laws you
have procured us since, particularly that for prevent-
ing the farther growth of popery, we are assured that
that liberty and property, that happy constitution in
church and state, to which we were restored by king
William of glorious memory, will be inviolably pre-
served under your grace's administration. And we
are persuaded that we cannot more effectually re-
commend ourselves to your grace's favour and pro-
tection than by assuring you that we will, to the
utmost of our power, contribute to the honour and
safety of her majesty's government, the maintenance
of the succession in the illustrious house of Hanover,
and that we shall at all times oppose the secret and
open attempts of the pretender and all his abettors.
The Recorder's Speech explained by the Tories.
An ancient metropolis, famous of late
For opposing the church and for nosing the state,
For protecting sedition and rejecting order, [corder:
Made the following speech by their mouth, the re-
First, to tell you the name of this place of renown,
Some still call it Dublin, but most Forster's town.
The Speech.
[well;
May it please your grace,
We cannot omit this occasion to tell
That we love the queen's person and government
Then next, to your grace we this compliment make,
That our worships regard you, but 'tis for her sake:
Though our mouth be a Whig, and our head a dis-
senter,
Yet salute you we must, 'cause you represent her:
Nor can we forget, sir, that some of your line [shine.
Did with mildness and peace in this government
But of all your exploits, we'll allow but one fact,
That your grace has procured us a Popery Act.
By this you may see that the least of your actions
Does conduce still the most to our satisfactions.
And lastly, because in the year eighty-eight
You did early appear in defence of our right,
ATLAS-INTENDED SPEECH OF A FAMOUS ORATOR.
703
We give no other proof of your zeal to your prince;
So we freely forget all your services since.
It's then only we hope that whilst you rule o'er us
You'll tread in the steps of king William the glorious,
Whom we're always adoring, though hand over head,
For we owe him allegiance, although he be dead
;
Which shows that good zeal may be founded in
spleen,
Since a dead prince we worship to lessen the queen.
And as for her majesty, we will defend her
Against our hobgoblin the popish pretender.
Our valiant militia will stoutly stand by her
Against the sly Jack and the sturdy high-flier. [her,
She is safe when thus guarded, if Providence bless
And Hanover's sure to be next her successor. [pity
Thus ended the speech, but what heart would not
His grace, almost choked with the breath of the city!
ATLAS; OR, THE MINISTER OF STATE.
TO THE LORD-TREASURER OXFORD.
1710.
ATLAS, we read in ancient song,
Was so exceeding tall and strong,
He bore the skies upon his back,
Just as the pedlar does his pack;
But, as the pedlar overpress'd
Unloads upon a stall to rest,
Or, when he can no longer stand,
Desires a friend to lend a hand;
So Atlas, lest the ponderous spheres
Should sink and fall about his ears,
Got Hercules to bear the pile,
That he might sit and rest awhile.
Yet Hercules was not so strong,
Nor could have borne it half so long.
Great statesmen are in this condition;
And Atlas is a politician,
A premier minister of state;
Alcides one of second rate.
Suppose then Atlas ne'er so wise;
Yet, when the weight of kingdom lies
Too long upon his single shoulders,
Sink down he must, or find upholders.
LINES
WRITTEN EXTEMPORE ON MR. HARLEY'S BEING STAB-
BED, AND Addressed to HIS PHYSICIAN, 1710-11.
ON Britain Europe's safety lies,
Britain is left if Harley dies:
Harley depends upon your skill:
Think what you save, or what you kill.a
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG:
BEING THE INTENDED SPEECH OF
A FAMOUS ORATOR AGAINST PEACE. 1711.
An orator dismal of Nottinghamshire,
Who has forty years let out his conscience to hire,
Out of zeal for his country and want of a place,
Is come up, vi et armis, to break the queen's peace.
He has vamp'd an old speech, and the court, to their
sorrow,
Shall hear him harangue against Prior to-morrow.
When once he begins he never will flinch,
But repeats the same note a whole day like a Finch.b
I have heard all the speech repeated by Hoppy,
And, "mistakes to prevent, I've obtained a copy."
"I told lord-treasurer of four lines I writ extempore, with
my pencil, on a bit of paper, in his house, while he lay wounded.
Some of the servants, I suppose, made waste-paper of them;
and he never heard of them."-Journal to Stella, Feb. 19,
1711-12.
b Lord Nottingham's family name.
THE SPEECH.
WHEREAS, notwithstanding I am in great pain,
To hear we are making a peace without Spain;
But most noble senators, 'tis a great shame,
There should be a peace, while I'm Not-in-game.
The duke show'd me all his fine house; and the
duchess
From her closet brought out a full purse in her
clutches:
I talk'd of a peace, and they both gave a start,
His grace swore by G-d, and her grace let a f-t:
My long old-fashion'd pocket was presently cramm'd;
And sooner than vote for a peace I'll be damn'd.
But some will cry turn-coat, and rip up old stories,
How I always pretended to be for the Tories:
I answer; the Tories were in my good graces,
Till all my relations were put into places.
But still I'm in principle ever the same,
And will quit my best friends while I'm Not-in-game.
When I and some others subscribed our naines
To a plot for expelling my master king James,
I withdrew my subscription by help of a blot,
And so might discover or gain by the plot :
I had my advantage and stood at defiance,
For Daniela was got from the den of the lions:
I came in without danger, and was I to blame?
For, rather than hang, I would be Not-in-game.
I swore to the queen that the prince of Hanover
During her sacred life would never come over ;
I made use of a trope; that "an heir to invite,
Was like keeping her monument always in sight."
But, when I thought proper, I alter'd my note;
And in her own hearing I boldly did vote
That her majesty stood in great need of a tutor,
And must have an old or a young coadjutor:
For why? I would fain have put all in a flame,
Because, for some reasons, I was Not-in-game.
Now my new benefactors have brought me about,
And I'll vote against peace, with Spain or without :
Though the court gives my nephews, and brothers,
and cousins,
And all my whole family, places by dozens;
Yet, since I know where a full purse may be found,
And hardly pay eighteen-pence tax in the pound,—
Since the Tories have thus disappointed my hopes,
And will neither regard my figures nor tropes,-
I'll speech against peace while Dismal's my name,
And be a true Whig while I'm Not-in-game.b
THE WINDSOR PROPHECY.C
"About three months ago, at Windsor, a poor
knight's widow was buried in the cloisters. In dig-
ging the grave the sexton struck against a smail
leaden coffer, about half a foot in length and four
inches wide. The poor man, expecting he had dis-
a This was the earl's christian name.
b "There was printed a Grub-street speech of lord Notting-
ham; and he was such an owl to complain of it in the house
of lords, who have taken up the printer for it. I heard at
court that Walpole (a great Whig member) said that I and my
whimsical club writ it at one of our meetings, and that I should
pay for it. He will find he lies; and I shall let him know by
a third hand my thoughts of him."-Journal to Stella, Dec.
18, 1711.
•
I have written a l'rophecy, which I design to print. I
did it to-day, and some other verses."-Journal to Stella, Dec.
23, 1711. My Prophecy is printed, and will be published
after Christmas-day. I like it mightily; I don't know how it
will pass."-Ibid. Dec. 24.
—Ibid. Dec. 24. "I called at noon at Mrs. Ma-
sham's, who desired me not to let the Prophecy be published
for fear of angering the queen about the duchess of Somerset ;
so I writ to the printer to stop them."-Ibid. Dec. 26.
entertained our society at the Thatched-house tavern. The
printer had not received my letter, and so brought us a dozen
copies of the Prophecy; but I ordered him to part with no more.
It is an admirable good ono, and people are mad for it.”—Ibid
Dec. 27
704
WINDSOR PROPHECY-CORINNA-MIDAS.
covered a treasure, opened it with some difficulty,
but found only a small parchment, rolled up very
fast, put into a leather case; which case was tied at
the top and sealed with a St. George, the impression
on black wax, very rude and gothic. The parch-
ment was carried to a gentleman of learning, who
found in it the following lines, written in a black
old English letter, and in the orthography of the
age, which seems to be about two hundred years.
ago. I made a shift to obtain a copy of it; but the
transcriber, I find, hath in many parts altered the
spelling to the modern way. The original, as I am
informed, is now in the hands of the ingenious Dr.
W—, F.R.S., where, I suppose, the curious will
not be refused the satisfaction of seeing it.
"The lines seem to be a sort of prophecy, and
written in verse, as old prophecies usually are, but
in a very hobbling kind of measure. Their meaning
is very dark, if it be any at all; of which the learned
reader can judge better than I: however it be, seve-
ral persons were of opinion that they deserved to be
published, both as they discover somewhat of the
genius of a former age, and may be an amusement
to the present."
When a holy black Swede, the son of Bob,a
With a saint at his chin and a sealb at his fob,
Shall not see one new-year's-dayc in that year,
Then let old England make good cheer:
Windsord and Bristowd then shall be
Joined together in the Low-countree.d
Then shall the tall black Daventry Birde
Speak against peace right many a word;
And some shall admire his conying wit,
For many good groats his tongue shall slit.
But, spite of the Harpy that crawls on all four,
There shall be peace, pardie, and war no more.
But England must cry alack and well-a-day,
If the stick be taken from the dead sea.g
And, dear Englond, if ought I understond,
Beware of Carrotsh from Northumberlond.
Carrots sown Thynne¹ a deep root may get,
If so be they are in Somer set;
f
Their Conyngs markk thou; for I have been told
They assassine when young, and poison when old.
Root out these Carrots, O thou,' whose name
Is backwards and forwards always the same;
And keep close to thee always that name,
Which backwards and forwards is almost the same.
And, Englond, wouldst thou be happy still,
Bury those Carrots under a Hill.”
m
CORINNA, A BALLAD. 1712.
THIS day (the year I dare not tell)
Apollo play'd the midwife's part;
Into the world Corinna fell,
And he endow'd her with his art.
But Cupid with a Satyr comes;
Both softly to the cradle creep;
Both stroke her hands and rub her gums,
While the poor child lay fast asleep.
• Dr. John Robinson, bishop of Bristol.
b He was dean of Windsor, and lord privy seal.
The new style (which was not used in Great Britain and
Ireland till 1752) was then observed in most parts of Europe.
d Alluding to the deanery and bishopric being possessed by
the same person, then at Utrecht.
• Earl of Nottingham.
f Duke of Marlborough.
5 The treasurer's wand taken from Harley, whose second
title was lord Mortimer.
The duchess of Somerset.
Thomas Thynne of Longleate, esq., married the above lady
after the death of her first husband, Henry Cavendish, carl of
Ogle.
I ANNA.
Count Koningsmark.
"Lady Masham's maiden name was Hill.
MASHAM.
Then Cupid thus: "This little maid
17
Of love shall always speak and write ;
"And I pronounce," the Satyr said,
"The world shall feel her scratch and bite."
Her talent she display'd betimes;
For in twice twelve revolving moons
She seem'd to laugh and squall in rhymes,
And all her gestures were lampoons.
At six years old the subtle jade
Stole to the pantry-door, and found
The outler with my lady's maid:
And you may swear the tale went round.
She made a song, how little miss
Was kiss'd and slobber'd by a lad:
And how, when master went to p-
Miss came and peep'd at all he had.
At twelve, a wit and a coquette;
Marries for love, half whore, half wife;
Cuckolds, elopes, and runs in debt;
Turns authoress, and is Curll's for life.
Her commonplace-book all gallant is,
Of scandal now a cornucopia;
She pours it out in Atalantis,
Or memoirs of the New Utopia.
THE FABLE OF MIDAS.a 1712.
MIDAS, we are in story told,
Turn'd everything he touch'd to gold:
He chipp'd his bread; the pieces round
Glitter'd like spangles on the ground;
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would straight become a golden pippin:
He call'd for drink; you saw him sup
Potable gold in golden cup:
His empty paunch that he might fill,
He suck'd his victuals through a quill.
Untouch'd it pass'd between his grinders,
Or t' had been happy for gold-finders :
He cock'd his hat, you would have said
Mambrino's helm adorn'd his head;
Whene'er he chanced his hands to lay
On magazines of corn or hay,
Gold ready coin'd appear'd instead
Of paltry provender and bread;
Hence, by wise farmers we are told
Old hay is equal to old gold :b
And hence a critic deep maintains
We learn'd to weigh our gold by grains.
This fool had got a lucky hit,
And people fancied he had wit.
Two gods their skill in music tried,
And both chose Midas to decide:
He against Phoebus' harp decreed,
And gave it for Pan's oaten reed:
The god of wit, to show his grudge,
Clapp'd asses' ears upon the judge;
A goodly pair, erect and wide,
Which he could neither gild nor hide.
And now the virtue of his hands
Was lost among Pactolus' sands,
Against whose torrent while he swims,
The golden scurf peels off his limbs:
Fame spreads the news, and people travel
From far to gather golden gravel;
a "To-day I published' The Fable of Midas,' a poem printed
on a loose half-sheet of paper. I know not how it will take;
but it passed wonderfully at our society to-night; and Mr.
Secretary read it before me the other night to lord-treasurer at
lord Masham's, where they equally approved of it. Tell me
how it passes with you.-Journal to Stella, Feb. 14, 1711-12.
The reader will recollect that the duke of Marlborough was
accused of having received perquisites from contractors.
INVITATION TO DISMAL-PEACE AND DUNKIRK.
705
Midas, exposed to all their jeers,
Had lost his art and kept his ears.
This tale inclines the gentle reader
To think upon a certain leader;
To whom from Midas down descends
That virtue in the fingers' ends.
What else by perquisites are meant,
By pensions, bribes, and three per cent.?
By places and commissions sold,
And turning dung itself to gold?
By starving in the midst of store,
As t'other Midas did before?
None e'er did modern Midas choose
Subject or patron of his muse,
But found him thus their merit scan,
That Phoebus must give place to Pan:
He values not the poet's praise,
Nor will exchange his plums for bays.
To Pan alone rich misers call:
And there's the jest, for Pan is ALL.
Here English wits will be to seek,
Howe'er, tis all one in the Greek.
Besides, it plainly now appears
Our Midas, too, has ass's ears:
Where every fool his mouth applies,
And whispers in a thousand lies;
Such gross delusions could not pass
Through any ears but of an ass.
But gold defiles with frequent touch,
There's nothing fouls the hands so much,
And scholars give it for the cause
Of British Midas' dirty paws;
Which, while the senate strove to scour,
They wash'd away the chemic power.
While he his utmost strength applied,
To swim against this popular tide,
The golden spoils flew off apace;
Here fell a pension, there a place:
The torrent merciless imbibes
Commissions, perquisites, and bribes;
By their own weight sunk to the bottom;
Much good may 't do them that have caught em;
And Midas now neglected stands,
With asses' cars and dirty hands.
TOLAND'S INVITATION TO DISMAL,
TO DINE WITH THE CALF'S-HEAD CLUB.
Imitated from HORACE, lib. I. epist. 5.
SWIFT mentions the satire in his Journal, 1st July, 1712.—
"Have you seen Toland's Invitation to Dismal? How do
By force of wine e'en Scarborough is brave,
Hala grows more pert, and Somers not so grave:
Wine can give Portland wit, and Cleaveland sense,
Montague learning, Bolton eloquence:
Cholmondeley, when drunk, can never lose his wand;
And Lincoln then imagines he has land.
My province is, to see that all be right,
Glasses and linen clean, and pewter bright;
From our mysterious club to keep out spies,
And Tories (dress'd like waiters) in disguise.
You shall be coupled as you best approve,
Seated at table next the men you love.
Sunderland, Orford, Boyle, and Richmond's grace,
Will come; and Hampden shall have Walpole's place;
Wharton, unless prevented by a whore,
Will hardly fail; and there is room for more.
But I love elbow-room whene'er I drink;
And honest Harry is too apt to stink.
Let no pretence of business make you stay;
Yet take one word of counsel by the way.
If Guernsey calls, send word you're gone abroad;
He'll teaze you with king Charles and bishop Laud,
Or make you fast and carry you to prayers;
But, if he will break in, and walk up stairs,
Steal by the back-door out, and leave him there;
Then order Squash to call a hackney-chair.
PEACE AND DUNKIRK.
BEING AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG UPON THE SUR-
RENDER OF DUNKIRK TO GENERAL HILL. 1712.
To the tune of "The king shall enjoy his own again.”
I.
SPITE of Dutch friends and English foes,
Poor Britain shall have peace at last:
Holland got towns, and we got blows;
But Dunkirk's ours, we'll hold it fast.
We have got it in a string,
And the Whigs may all go swing,
For among good friends I love to be plain;
All their false deluded hopes
Will, or ought to end in ropes
"But the queen shall enjoy her own again."
II.
Sunderland's run out of his wits,
And Dismal double Dismal looks;
Wharton can only swear by fits,
And strutting Hal is off the hooks;
Old Godolphin, full of spleen,
Made false moves, and lost his queen;
you like it! But it is an imitation of Horace, and perhaps Harry look'd fierce, and shook his ragged mane:
you do not understand Horace." It is again mentioned in
the 17th of the same month.
IF dearest Dismal, you for once can dine
Upon a single dish and tavern wine,
Toland to you this invitation sends,
To eat the calf's head with your trusty friends.
Suspend awhile your vain ambitious hopes,
Leave hunting after bribes, forget your tropes.
To-morrow we our mystic feast prepare,
Where thou, our latest proselyte, shalt share :
When we, by proper signs and symbols, tell
How by brave hands the royal traitor fell;
The meat shall represent the tyrant's head,
The wine his blood our predecessors shed;
While an alluding hymn some artist sings,
We toast, "Confusion to the race of kings!"
At monarchy we nobly show our spite,
And talk what fools call treason all the night.
Who, by disgraces or ill fortune sunk,
Feels not his soul enliven'd when he's drunk?
Wine can clear up Godolphin's cloudy face,
Aud fill Jack Smith with hopes to keep his place:
VOL. I.
But a prince of high renown
Swore he'd rather lose a crown,
"Than the queen should enjoy her own again."
III.
Our merchant-ships may cut the line,
And not be snapp'd by privateers,
And commoners who love good wine
Will drink it now as well as peers :
Landed men shall have their rent,
Yet our stocks rise cent. per cent.
The Dutch from hence shall no more millions drain:
We'll bring on us no more debts,
Nor with bankrupts fill gazettes ;
"And the queen shall enjoy her own again.”
IV.
The towns we took ne'er did us good:
What signified the French to beat?
We spent our money and our blood,
To make the Dutchmen proud and great:
Right honourable Henry Boyle.
a
2 z
706
HARLEY AND SWIFT.
But the lord of Oxford swears
Dunkirk never shall be theirs.
The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and complain;
But true Englishmen may fill
A good health to general Hill:
"For the queen now enjoys her own again."
HORACE, BOOK I. EP. VII.
ADDRESSED TO THE EARL OF OXFORD.
HARLEY, the nation's great support,
Returning home one day from court,
(His mind with public cares possess'd,
All Europe's business in his breast,)
Observed a parson near Whitehall,
Cheapening old authors on a stall.
The priest was pretty well in case,
And show'd some humour in his face;
Look'd with an easy, careless mien,
A perfect stranger to the spleen;
Of size that might a pulpit fill,
But more inclining to sit still.
My lord (who, if a man may say't,
Loves mischief better than his meat)
Was now disposed to crack a jest,
And bid friend Lewis go in quest
(This Lewis is a cunning shaver,
And very much in Harley's favour)—
In quest who might this parson be,
What was his name, of what degree;
If possible, to learn his story,
a
And whether he were Whig or Tory.
Lewis his patron's humour knows,
Away upon his errand goes,
And quickly did the matter sift;
Found out that it was doctor Swift;
A clergyman of special note
For shunning those of his own coat;
Which made his brethren of the gown
Take care betimes to run him down:
No libertine, nor over nice,
Addicted to no sort of vice,
1713.
Went where he pleased, said what he thought;
Not rich, but owed no man a groat:
In state opinions à la mode,
He hated Wharton like a toad,
Had given the faction many a wound,
And libell'd all the junto round;
Kept company with men of wit,
Who often father'd what he writ:
His works were hawk'd in every strect,
But seldom rose above a sheet:
Of late, indeed, the paper-stamp
Did very much his genius cramp;
And, since he could not spend his fire,
He now intended to retire.
Said Harley, "I desire to know
From his own mouth if this be so;
Step to the doctor straight, and say
I'd have him dine with me to-day."
Swift seem'd to wonder what he meant,
Nor would believe my lord had sent;
So never offer'd once to stir,
But coldly said, "Your servant, sir!"
"Does he refuse me?" Harley cried:
"He does, with insolence and pride."
Some few days after Harley spies
The doctor fasten'd by the eyes
At Charing-cross among the rout
Where painted monsters are hung out:
He pull'd the string and stopp'd his coach,
Beckoning the doctor to approach.
• The treasuror's secretary,
Swift, who could neither fly nor hide,
Came sneaking to the chariot-side,
And offer'd many a lame excuse :
He never meant the least abuse-
My lord, the honour you design'd—
Extremely proud-but I had dined—
I'm sure I never should neglect-
No man alive has more respect”—
"Well, I shall think of that no more,
If you'll be sure to come at four."
The doctor now obeys the summons,
Likes both his company and commons;
Displays his talents, sits till ten;
Next day invited, comes again;
Soon grows domestic, seldom fails
Either at morning or at meals;
Came early and departed late;
In short the gudgeon took the bait.
My lord would carry on the jest,
And down to Windsor takes his guest.
Swift much admires the place and air,
And longs to be a canon there;
In summer round the Park to ride,
In winter-never to reside.
A canon-that's a place too mean:
No, doctor, you shall be a dean;
Two dozen canons round your stall,
And you the tyrant o'er them all :
You need but cross the Irish seas,
To live in plenty, power, and ease.
Poor Swift departs, and, what is worse,
With borrow'd money in his purse,
Travels at least a hundred leagues,
And suffers numberless fatigues.
Suppose him now a dean complete,
Demurely lolling in his seat;
The silver verge, with decent pride,
Stuck underneath his cushion side;
Suppose him gone through all vexations,
Patents, instalments, abjurations,
First-fruits, and tenths, and chapter-treats
Dues, payments, fees, demands, and cheats-
The wicked laity's contriving
To hinder clergymen from thriving.
Now, all the doctor's money spent,
His tenants wrong him in his rent;
The farmers, spitefully combined,
Force him to take his tithes in kind,
And Parvisolª discounts arrears
By bills for taxes and repairs.
Poor Swift, with all his losses vex'd,
Not knowing where to turn him next,
Above a thousand pounds in debt,
Takes horse, and in a mighty fret
Rides day and night at such a rate,
He soon arrives at Harley's gate;
But was so dirty, pale, and thin,
Old Read" would hardly let him in.
Said Harley, "Welcome, reverend dean!
What makes your worship look so lean?
Why, sure you won't appear in town
In that old wig and rusty gown?
I doubt your heart is set on pelf
So much that you neglect yourself.
What! I suppose, now stocks are high,
You've some good purchase in your eye
Or is your money out at use?”_____
"Truce, good my lord, I beg a truce,"
(The doctor in a passion cried,)
"Your raillery is misapplied;
Experience I have dearly bought;
You know I am not worth a groat:
"The dean's agent, a Frenchman.
The lord-treasurer's porter.
THE AUTHOR UPON HIMSELF-THE FAGOT.
707
But you resolved to have your jest,
And 'twas a folly to contest;
Then, since you now have done your worst,
Pray leave me where you found me first."
1713.
THE AUTHOR UPON HIMSELF.
*
*
*
*
*
(A few of the first lines are wanting.)
**
By an old-
*
*
-pursued,
A crazy prelate, and a royal prude;"
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On every genius that attempts to rise;
And pausing o'er a pipe, with doubtful nod,
Give hints, that poets ne'er believe in God.
So clowns on scholars as on wizards look,
And take a folio for a conjuring book.
Swift had the sin of wit, no venial crime;
Nay, 'tis affirm'd he sometimes dealt in rhyme;
Humour and mirth had place in all he writ;
He reconciled divinity and wit:
[grace;
He moved and bow'd, and talk'd with too much
Nor show'd the parson in his gait or face;
Despised luxurious wines and costly meat;
Yet still was at the tables of the great;
Frequented lords; saw those that saw the queen ;
At Child's or Truby's, never once had been;
Where town and country vicars flock in tribes,
Secured by numbers from the laymen's gibes;
And deal in vices of the graver sort,
Tobacco, censure, coffee, pride, and port.
But, after sage monitions from his friends,
His talents to employ for nobler ends;
To better judgments willing to submit,
He turns to politics his dangerous wit.
And now, the public interest to support,
By Harley Swift invited comes to court;
In favour grows with ministers of state;
Admitted private when superiors wait :
And Harley, not ashamed his choice to own,
Takes him to Windsor in his coach alone.
At Windsor, Swift no sooner can appear,
But St. John comes and whispers in his ear:
The waiters stand in ranks: the yeomen cry,
"Make room," as if a duke were passing by.
Now Finchd alarms the lords: he hears for certain
This dangerous priest is got behind the curtain.
Finch, famed for tedious elocution, proves
That Swift oils many a spring which Harley moves.
Walpole and Aislabie,e to clear the doubt,
Inform the commons that the secret's out
"A certain doctor is observed of late
To haunt a certain minister of state:
From whence with half an eye we may discover
The peace is made, and Perkin must come over."
York is from Lambeth sent to show the
queen
A dangerous treatisef writ against the spleen;
Which, by the style, the matter, and the drift,
'Tis thought could be the work of none but Swift.
Poor York! the harmless tool of others' hate;
He sues for pardon,5 and repents too late.
Now angry Somerset her vengeance vows
On Swift's reproaches for her ******* spouse :h
Dr. John Sharpe, who, for some unbecoming reflections in
his sermons, had been suspended, May 14, 1686, was raised
from the deanery of Canterbury to the archbishopric of York,
July 5, 1691; and died February 2, 1712-13.
↳ Queen Anne. • Coffeehouses frequented by the clergy.
d Daniel Finch, earl of Nottingham.
John Aislaby, then M.P. for Rippon. They both spoke
against him in the house of commons.
Talo of a Tub.
He sont a message to ask Swift's pardon.
¸¹ Insert “murder'd." The duchess's first husband, Thomas
Thyune, esq., was assassinated in Pall Mall by banditti, the
emissaries of count Coningsmarc.
From her red locks her mouth with venom fills,
And thence into the royal car instils.
The queen incensed his services forgot,
Leaves him a victim to the vengeful Scot.a
Now through the realm a proclamation spread,
To fix a price on his devoted head.b
While innocent, he scorns ignoble flight;
His watchful friends preserve him by a sleight.
By Harley's favour once again he shines;
Is now caress'd by candidate divines,
Who change opinions with the changing scene:
Lord! how were they mistaken in the dean!
Now Delaware again familiar grows ;
And in Swift's ears thrusts half his powder'd nose.
The Scottish nation, whom he durst offend,
Again apply that Swift would be their friend.ª
By faction tired, with grief he waits awhile,
His great contending friends to reconcile ;
Performs what friendship, justice, truth require:
What could he more, but decently retire?
THE FAGOT.
WRITTEN WHEN THE MINISTRY WERE AT VARIANCE,
OBSERVE the dying father speak,
Try, lads, can you this bundle break?
Then bids the youngest of the six
Take up a well-bound heap of sticks.
They thought it was an old man's maggot:
And strove, by turns, to break the fagot:
In vain; the complicated wands
Were much too strong for all their hands.
See, said the sire, how soon 'tis done :
Then took and broke them one by one.
So strong you'll be, in friendship tied;
So quickly broke, if divide.
you
Keep close then, boys, and never quarrel :
Here ends the fable and the moral.
This tale may be applied in few words,
To treasurers, comptrollers, stewards;
And others, who, in solemn sort,
Appear with slender wands at court;
Not firmly join'd to keep their ground,
But lashing one another round:
While wise men think they ought to fight
With quarterstaffs instead of white;
Or constable, with staff of peace,
Should come and make the clattering cease;
Which now disturbs the queen and court,
And gives the Whigs and rabble sport.
In history we never found
The consul's fasces were unbound:
Those Romans were too wise to think on't,
Except to lash some grand delinquent.
How would they blush to hear it said,
The prætor broke the consul's head!
Or consul in his purple gown,
Came up and knock'd the prætor down!
Come, courtiers: every man his stick!
Lord treasurer, for once be quick :
And that they may the closer cling,
Take your blue ribbon for a string.
Come, trimming Harcourt,e bring your mace;
And squeeze it in, or quit your place :
Despatch, or else that rascal Northey
Will undertake to do it for thee:
And be assured, the court will find him
Prepared to leap o'er sticks, or bind them.
• The duke of Argyle.
b For writing The Public Spirit of the Whigs.'
Then lord-treasurer of the household.
He was visited by the Scotch lords more than ever.
Lord-chancellor.
Sir Edward Northey, attorney-general.
222
708
IMITATION OF HORACE.
To make the bundle strong and safe,
Great Ormond, lend thy general's staff:
And, if the crosier could be cramm'd in,
A fig for Lechmere, King and Hambden!
You'll then defy the strongest Whig
With both his hands to bend a twig;
Though with united strength they all pull,
From Somers down to Craggs and Walpole.
IMITATION
OF PART OF THE SIXTH SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK
OF HORACE.
1714.
I'VE often wish'd that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a-year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace walk, and half a rood
Of land, set out to plant a wood.
Well, now I have all this and more,
I ask not to increase my store;
["a
a But here a grievance seems to lie,
All this is mine but till I die;
I can't but think 'twould sound more clever,
To me and to my heirs for ever.
"If I ne'er got or lost a groat,
By any trick, or any fault;
And if I pray by reason's rules,
And not like forty other fools:
As thus, Vouchsafe, O gracious Maker!
To grant me this and t'other acre:
Or, if it be thy will and pleasure,
Direct my plough to find a treasure!'
But only what my station fits,
And to be kept in my right wits,
Preserve, Almighty Providence!
Just what you gave me, competence:
And let me in these shades compose
Something in verse as true as prose;
Removed from all th' ambitious scene,
Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen."]
In short, I'm perfectly content,
b
Let me but live on this side Trent;
Nor cross the channel twice a-year,
To spend six months with statesmen here.
I must by all means come to town,
'Tis for the service of the crown.
"Lewis, the dean will be of use;
Send for him up, take no excuse.'
The toil, the danger of the seas,
Great ministers ne'er think of these
Or let it cost five hundred pound,
No matter where the money's found,
It is but so much more in debt,
And that they ne'er considered yet.
"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown,
Let my lord know you're come to town."
I hurry me in haste away,
Not thinking it is levee-day
And find his honour in a pound,
Hemm'd by a triple circle round,
Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green.
How should I thrust myself between?
Some wag observes me thus perplex'd,
And, smiling, whispers to the next,
"I thought the dean had been too proud,
To justle here among a crowd!"
Another, in a surly fit,
Tells me I have more zeal than wit.
"So eager to express your love,
You ne'er consider whom you shove,
The twenty lines within hooks were added by Mr. Pope.
Swift was perpetually expressing his deep discontent at his
Irish preferment, and forming schemes for exchanging it for a
smaller in England.
But rudely press before a duke."
I own, I'm pleased with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to show
What I desire the world should know.
I get a whisper, and withdraw;
When twenty fools I never saw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Desiring I would stand their friend.
This humbly offers me his case—
That begs my interest for a place-
A hundred other men's affairs,
Like bees, are humming in my ears.
"To-morrow my appeal comes on;
Without your help, the cause is gone-"
The duke expects my lord and you,
About some great affair, at two-
"Put my lord Bolingbroke in mind,
To get my warrant quickly sign'd;
Consider, 'tis my first request.".
Be satisfied I'll do my best :
Then presently he falls to tease,
"You may for certain, if you please;
I doubt not if his lordship knew
And, Mr. Dean, one word from youª——'
'Tis (let me see) three years and more
(October next it will be four)
Since Harley bid me first attend,b
And choose me for an humble friend;
Would take me in his coach to chat,
And question me of this and that;
As "What's o'clock?" And, "How's the wind?"
"Whose chariot's that we left behind?”
Or gravely try to read the lines
Writ underneath the country signs;c
Or, "Have you nothing new to-day
From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?"
Such tattle often entertains
My lord and me as far as Staines,
As once a-week we travel down
To Windsor, and again to town,
Where all that passes inter nos
Might be proclaimed at Charing-cross.
Yet some I know with envy swell,
Because they see me used so well:
"How think you of our friend the dean?
I wonder what some people mean!
My lord and he are grown so great,
Always together, tête-à-tête ;
What! they admire him for his jokes ?—
See but the fortune of some folks!"
There flies about a strange report
Of some express arrived at court:
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechised in every street.
"You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great:
Inform us, will the emperor treat?
Or do the prints and papers lie?"
Faith, sir, you know as much as I.
"Ah, doctor, how you love to jest!
'Tis now no secret "I protest
"Tis one to me~" Then tell us, pray,
When are the troops to have their pay?"
And, though I solemnly declare
I know no more than my lord-mayor,
They stand amazed, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.
a Very happily turned from "Si vis potes-
"WHARTON.
b The rise and progress of Swift's intimacy with lord Oxford
is minutely detailed in his very interesting Journal to Stella.
• The real cause of Swift's disappointment in his hopes of
preferment is explained in Coxe's Memoirs of Walpole.
d Another of their amusements in these excursions consisted
in lord Oxford and Swift's counting the poultry on the road,
and whichever reckoned thirty-one first, or saw a cat, or an old
woman, won the gaine.
HORACE PARAPHRASED.
709
Thus in a sea of folly toss'd,
Thus thou, a friend to the distress'd,
Did'st in thy calling do thy best.
My choicest hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
O, could I see my country-seat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book;
And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those cares that haunt the court and town.ª
HORACE, BOOK II. ODE I. PARAPHRASED.
ADDRESSED TO RICHARD STEELE, ESQ. 1714.
"Eu qui promittit, cives, urbem sibi curæ,
Imperium fore, et Italiam, et delubra deorum."
HOR. SAT. I. vi. 34.
DICK, thou'rt resolved, as I am told,
Some strange arcana to unfold,
And with the help of Buckley's pen
To vamp the good old cause again :
Which thou (such Burnet's shrewd advice is)
Must furbish up and nickname Crisis.
Thou pompously wilt let us know
What all the world knew long ago,
(E'er since sir William Gore was mayor,
And Harley fill'd the commons' chair,)
That we a German prince must own,
When Anne for heaven resigns her throne.
But, more than that, thou'lt keep a rout,
With-who is in-and who is out?
Thou'lt rail devoutly at the peace,
And all its secret causes trace,
The bucket-play 'twixt Whigs and Tories,
Their ups and downs, with fifty stories
Of tricks the lord of Oxford knows,
And errors of our plenipoes.
Thou'lt tell of leagues among the great,
Portending ruin to our state:
And of that dreadful coup d'éclat,
Which has afforded thee much chat.
The queen, forsooth! (despotic,) gave
Twelve coronets without thy leave!
A breach of liberty, 'tis own'd,
For which no heads have yet atoned!
Believe me, what thou'st undertaken
May bring in jeopardy thy bacon;
For madmen, children, wits, and fools,
Should never meddle with edged tools.
But, since thou'rt got into the fire,
And canst not easily retire,
Thou must no longer deal in farce,
Nor pump to cobble wicked verse;
Until thou shalt have eased thy conscience
Of spleen, of politics, and nonsense;
And, when thou'st bid adieu to cares,
And settled Europe's grand affairs,
'Twill then, perhaps, be worth thy while
For Drury-lane to shape thy style:
"To make a pair of jolly fellows,
The son and father, join to tell us
How sons may safely disobey,
And fathers never should say nay;
By which wise conduct they grow friends
At last-and so the story ends."b
When first I knew thee, Dick, thou wert
Renown'd for skill in Faustus' art;
Which made thy closet much frequented
By buxom lasses-some repented
Their luckless choice of husbands-others,
Impatient to be like their mothers,
Received from thee profound directions
How best to settle their affections.
Thus far was translated by Dr. Swift in 1714.
This is said to be a plot of a comedy with which Mr. Steele
had long threatened the town.
But now the senate (if things hit,
And thou at Stockbridge wert not bit)
Must feel thy eloquence and fire,
Approve thy schemes, thy wit admire,
Thee with immortal honours crown,
While, patriot-like, thou'lt strut and frown.
What though by enemies 'tis said,
The laurel which adorns thy head
Must one day come in competition,
By virtue of some sly petition :
Yet mum for that; hope still the best,
Nor let such cares disturb thy rest.
Methinks I hear thee loud as trumpet,
As bagpipe shrill or oyster-strumpet;
Methinks I see thee, spruce and fine,
With coat embroider'd richly shine,
And dazzle all the idol faces,
b
с
As through the hall thy worship paces:
(Though this I speak but at a venture,
Supposing thou hast tick with Hunter
Methinks I see a blackguard rout
Attend thy coach, and hear them shout
In approbation of thy tongue,
Which (in their style) is purely hung.
Now! now you carry all before you!
Nor dares one Jacobite or Tory
Pretend to answer one syl-lable,
Except the matchless hero Abel.a
What though her highness and her spouse,
In Antwerp keep a frugal house,
Yet, not forgetful of a friend,
They'll soon enable thee to spend,
If to Macartney thou wilt toast,
And to his pious patron's ghost.
Now, manfully thou'lt run a tilt
"On popes, for all the blood they've spilt,
For massacres, and racks, and flames,
For lands enrich'd by crimson streams,
For inquisitions taught by Spain,
Of which the christian world complain."
Dick, we agree-all's true thou'st said,
As that my Muse is yet a maid.
But, if I may with freedom talk,
All this is foreign to thy walk :
Thy genius has perhaps a knack
At trudging in a beaten track,
But is for state affairs as fit
As mine for politics and wit.
Then let us both in time grow wise,
Nor higher than our talents rise;
To some snug cellar let's repair,
From duns and debts, and drown our care;
Now quaff of honest ale a quart.
Now venture at a pint of port;
With which inspired, we'll club each night
Some tender sonnet to indite,
And with Tom D'Urfey, Phillips, Dennis,
Immortalise our Dolls and Jennys.
HORACE, BOOK I. EP. V.
JOHN DENNIS, the sheltering poet's INVITATION TO
RICHARD Steele, the secluded PARTY-WRITER AND
MEMBER, TO COME AND LIVE WITH HIM IN THE MINT.
1714.
Fit to be bound with THE CRISIS.
If thou canst lay aside a spendthrift's air,
And condescend to feed on homely fare,
a Abel Roper, a Tory bookseller.
b The duke and duchess of Marlborough then resided at
Antwerp.
• General Macartney, second to lord Mohun in the fatal duel
with the duke of Hamilton.
710
DENNIS'S INVITATION TO STEELE.
Such as we minters, with ragouts unstored,
Will, in defiance of the law, afford:
Quit thy patrols with Toby's Christmas-box,
And come to me at The Two Fighting Cocks ;
Since printing by subscription now is grown
The stalest, idlest cheat about the town;
And ev'n Charles Gildon, who, a papist bred,
Has an alarm against that worship spread,
Is practising those beaten paths of cruising,
And for new levies on proposals musing.
'Tis true that Bloomsbury-square's a noble place:
But what are lofty buildings in thy case?
What's a fine house embellish'd to profusion,
Where shoulder-dabbers are in execution?
Or whence its timorous tenant seldom sallies,
But apprehensive of insulting bailiffs?
This once be mindful of a friend's advice,
And cease to be improvidently nice;
Exchange the prospects that delude thy sight,
From Highgate's steep ascent and Hampstead's height,
With verdant scenes, that, from St. George's-field,
More durable and safe enjoyments yield.
Here I, even I, that ne'er till now could find
Ease to my troubled and suspicious mind,
But ever was with jealousies possess'd,
Am in a state of indolence and rest ;
Fearful no more of Frenchmen in disguise,
Nor looking upon strangers as on spies,ª
But quite divested of my former spleen,
Am unprovoked without and calm within :
And here I'll wait thy coming till the sun
Shall its diurnal course completely run.
Think not that thou of sturdy bub shalt fail,
My landlord's cellar stock'd with beer and ale,
With every sort of malt that is in use,
And every county's generous produce.
The ready (for here christian faith is sick,
Which makes us seldom trespass upon tick)
Instantly brings the choicest liquor out,
Whether we ask for home-brew'd or for stout,
For mead or cider, or, with dainties fed,
Ring for a flash or two of white or red,
Such as the drawer will not fail to swear
Was drunk by Pilkington when third time mayor.
That name, methinks, so popularly known
For opposition to the church and crown,
Might make the Lusitanian grape to pass,
And almost give a sanction to the glass;
Especially with thee, whose hasty zeal
Against the late rejected commerce bill
Made thee rise up, like an audacious elf,
To do the speaker honour, not thyself.
But if thou soar'st above the common prices,
By virtue of subscription to thy Crisis,
And nothing can go down with thee but wines
Press'd from Burgundian and Campanian vines,
Bid them be brought; for, though I hate the French,
I love their liquors, as thou lov'st a wench;
Else thou must humble thy expensive taste,
And, with us hold contentment for a feast.
The fire's already lighted; and the maid
Has a clean cloth upon the table laid,
Who never on a Saturday had struck,
But for thy entertainment, up a buck.
Think of this act of grace, which by your leave
Susan would not have done on Easter-eve,
Had she not been inform'd over and over,
'Twas for th' ingenious author of The Lover.
Cease, therefore, to beguile thyself with hopes,
Which is no more than making sandy ropes,
a Poor Dennis had a notion that he was dreaded by the
French for his writings, and fled from the coast, on hearing that
strangers had approached the town where he was residing.
And quit the vain pursuit of loud applause,
That must bewilder thee in faction's cause.
Pr'ythee what is't to thee who guides the state ?
Why Dunkirk's demolition is so late?
Or why her majesty thinks fit to cease
The din of war, and hush the world to peace?
The clergy too, without thy aid, can tell
What texts to choose and on what topics dwell
And, uninstructed by thy babbling, teach
Their flocks celestial happiness to reach.
Rather let such poor souls as you and I
Say that the holidays are drawing nigh,
And that to-morrow's sun begins the week,
Which will abound with store of ale and cake,
With hams of bacon, and with powder'd beef,
Stuff'd to give field-itinerants relief.
Then I, who have within these precincts kept,
And ne'er beyond the chimney-sweeper's stepp'd,
Will take a loose, and venture to be seen,
Since 'twill be Sunday, upon Shanks's green;
There, with erected looks and phrase sublime,
To talk of unity of place and time,
And with much malice, mix'd with little satire,
Explode the wits on t'other side o' th' water.
Why has my lord Godolphin's special grace
Invested me with a queen's waiter's place,
If I, debarr'd of festival delights,
Am not allow'd to spend the perquisites?
He's but a short remove from being mad
Who at a time of jubilee is sad,
And, like a griping usurer,
does spare,
His money to be squander'd by his heir;
Flutter'd away in liveries and in coaches,
And washy sorts of feminine debauches.
As for my part, whate'er the world may think,
I'll bid adieu to gravity, and drink ;
And, though I can't put off a woful mien,
Will be all mirth and cheerfulness within:
As, in despite of a censorious race,
I must incontinently suck my face.
[wine?
What mighty projects does not he design.
Whose stomach flows and brain turns round with
Wine, powerful wine, can thaw the frozen cit,
And fashion him to humour and to wit;
Makes even S**** to disclose his art,
By racking every secret from his heart,
As he flings off the statesman's sly disguise,
To name the cuckold's wife with whom he lies.
Ev'n Sarum, when he quaffs it 'stead of tea,
Fancies himself in Canterbury's see,
And S******, when he carousing reels,
Imagines that he has regain'd the seals:
W******, by virtue of his juice, can fight,
And Stanhope of commissioners make light.
Wine gives lord Wingham aptitude of parts,
And swells him with his family's deserts:
Whom can it not make eloquent of speech ;
Whom in extremest poverty not rich?
Since, by the means of the prevailing grape,
Th****n can Lechmere's warmth not only ape,
But, half-seas-o'er, by its inspiring bounties,
Can qualify himself in several counties.
What I have promised, thou may'st rest assured
Shall faithfully and gladly be procured,
Nay, I'm already better than my word,
New plates and knives adorn the jovial board :
And, lest thou at their sight should'st make wry faces,
The girl has scour'd the pots and wash'd the glasses,
Ta'en care so excellently well to clean 'em,
That thou may'st see thine own dear picture in 'em.
Moreover, due provision has been made
That conversation may not be betray'd;
I have no company but what is proper
To sit with the most flagrant Whig at supper.
IN SICKNESS-FABLE OF THE BITCHES, &c.
711
There's not a man among them but must please,
Since they're as like each other as are peas.
Toland and Hare have jointly sent me word
They'll come; and Kennet thinks to make a third,
Provided he's no other invitation
From men of greater quality and station.
Room will for Oldmixon and J-s be left:
But their discourses smell so much of theft,
There would be no abiding in the room,
Should two such ignorant pretenders come.
However, by this trusty bearer write,
If I should any other scabs invite;
Though, if I may my serious judgment give,
I'm wholly for king Charles's number five:
That was the stint in which that monarch fix'd,
Who would not be with noisiness perplex'd:
And that, if thou'lt agree to think it best,
Shall be our tale of heads, without one other guest.
I've nothing more, now this is said, to say,
But to request thou'lt instantly away,
And leave the duties of thy present post,
To some well-skill'd retainer in a host:
Doubtless he'll carefully thy place supply,
And o'er his grace's horses have an eye.
While thou, who slunk through postern more than
Dost by that means avoid a crowd of duns, [once,
And, crossing o'er the Thames at Temple Stairs,
Leav'st Phillips with good words to cheat their ears.
IN SICKNESS.
WRITTEN IN IRELAND IN OCTOBER 1714.
'Tis true-then why should I repine
To see my life so fast decline?
But why obscurely here alone,
Where I am neither loved nor known?
My state of health none care to learn;
My life is here no soul's concern:
And those with whom I now converse
Without a tear will tend my hearse.
Removed from kind Arbuthnot's aid,
Who knows his art but not his trade,
Preferring his regard for me
Before his credit or his fee.
Some formal visits, looks, and words,
What mere humanity affords,
I meet perhaps from three or four,
From whom I once expected more ;
Which those who tend the sick for pay
Can act as decently as they :
But no obliging, tender friend,
To help at my approaching end.
My life is now a burthen grown
To others, ere it be my own.
Ye formal weepers for the sick,
In your last offices be quick;
And spare my absent friends the grief
To hear, yet give me no relief;
Expired to-day, entomb'd to-morrow,
When known, will save a double sorrow.
THE FABLE OF THE BITCHES.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1715, ON AN ATTEMPT TO
REPEAL THE TEST ACT.
A BITCH, that was full pregnant grown
By all the dogs and curs in town,
Finding her ripen'd time was come,
Her litter teaming from her womb,
Went here and there, and everywhere,
To find an easy place to lay her.
At length to Music's housea she came,
And begg'd like one both blind and lame;
■ The church of England.
"My only friend, my dear," said she,
"You see 'tis mere necessity
Hath sent me to your house to whelp:
I die if you refuse your help."
With fawning whine and rueful tone,
With artful sigh and feigned groan,
With couchant cringe and flattering tale,
Smooth Bawtya did so far prevail
That Music gave her leave to litter;
(But mark what follow'd-faith! she bit her ;)
Whole baskets full of bits and scraps,
And broth enough to fill her paps;
For well she knew her numerous brood,
For want of milk, would suck her blood.
But when she thought her pains were done,
And now 'twas high time to be gone,
In civil terms, "My friend,” said she,
"My house you've had on courtesy ;
And now I earnestly desire
That you would with your cubs retire;
For, should you stay but one week longer,
I shall be starved with cold and hunger."
The guest replied " My friend, your leave
I must a little longer crave;
Stay till my tender cubs can find
Their way-for now, you see, they're blind;
But, when we've gather'd strength, I swear,
We'll to our barn again repair.
''
The time pass'd on; and Music came
Her kennel once again to claim;
But Bawty, lost to shame and honour,
Set all her cubs at once upon her ;
Made her retire, and quit her right,
And loudly cried-"A bite! bite!"
THE MORAL.
Thus did the Grecian wooden horse
Conceal a fatal armed force:
No sooner brought within the walls
But Ilium's lost, and Priam falls.
HORACE, BOOK III. ODE II.
TO THE EARL OF OXFORD, LATE LORD-TREASURER.
Sent to him when in the Tower, 1716.
How blest is he who for his country dies,
Since death pursues the coward as he flies!
The youth in vain would fly from Fate's attack;
With trembling knees, and Terror at his back ;
Though Fear should lend him pinions like the wind,
Yet swifter Fate will seize him from behind.
Virtue repulsed yet knows not to repine;
But shall with unattainted honour shine;
Nor stoops to take the staff, nor lays it down,
Just as the rabble please to smile or frown.
Virtue, to crown her favourites, loves to try
Some new unbeaten passage to the sky;
Where Jove a seat among tlie gods will give
To those who die for meriting to live.
b
Next faithful Silence hath a sure reward;
Within our breast be every secret barr'd!
He who betrays his friend shall never be
Under one roof, or in one ship, with me:
For who with traitors would his safety trust,
Lest with the wicked, Heaven involve the just?
And though the villain 'scape a while, he feels
Slow vengeance, like a bloodhound, at his heels.
ON THE CHURCH'S DANGER.
GOOD Halifax and pious Wharton cry,
The Church has vapours; there's no danger nigh.
In those we love not we no danger see,
And were they hang'd there would no danger be.
a A Scotch name for a bitch, alluding to the kirk.
The ensign of the lord-treasurer's office.
712
ON HIGH CHURCH-TALE OF A NETTLE.
But we must silent be amidst our fears,
And not believe our senses, but the peers.
So ravishers, that know no sense of shame,
First stop her mouth, and then debauch the dame.
A POEM ON HIGH CHURCH.
HIGH Church is undone,
As sure as a gun,
For old Peter Patch is departed;
And Eyres and Delaune,
And the rest of that spawn,
Are tacking about broken-hearted.
For strong Gill of Sarum,
That decoctum amarum,
Has prescribed a dose of cant-fail ;
Which will make them resign
Their flasks of French wine,
And spice up their Nottingham ale.
It purges the spleen
Of dislike to the queen,
And has one effect that is odder;
When easement they use,
They always will choose
The conformity bill for bumfodder.
A POEM,
OCCASIONED BY THE HANGINGS IN THE CASTLE OF DUBLIN,
IN WHICH THE STORY OF PHAETON IS EXPRESSED.
Not asking or expecting aught,
One day I went to view the court,
Unbent and free from care or thought,
Though thither fears and hopes resort.
A piece of tapestry took my eye,
The faded colours spoke it old;
But wrought with curious imagery,
The figures lively seem'd and bold.
Here you might see the youth prevail,
(In vain are eloquence and wit,)
The boy persists, Apollo's frail;
Wisdom to nature does submit.
There mounts the eager charioteer;
Soon from his seat he's downward hurl'd ;
Here Jove in anger doth appear,
There all, beneath, the flaming world.
What does this idle fiction mean?
Is truth at court in such disgrace,
It may not on the walls be seen,
Nor e'en in picture show its face?
No, no, 'tis not a senseless tale,
By sweet tongued Ovid dress'd so fine;
It does important truths conceal,
And here was placed by wise design.
A lesson deep with learning fraught,
Worthy the cabinet of kings;
Fit subject of their constant thought,
In matchless verse the poet sings.
Well should he weigh, who does aspire
To empire, whether truly great,
His head, his heart, his hand, conspire,
To make him equal to that seat.
If only fond desire of sway,
By avarice or ambition fed,
Make him affect to guide the day,
Alas! what strange confusion's bred!
If, either void of princely care,
Remiss he holds the slacken'd rein;
If rising heats or mad career,
Unskill'd, he knows not to restrain;
Or if, perhaps, he gives a loose,
In wanton pride to show his skill,
How easily he can reduce
And curb the people's rage at will;
In wild uproar they hurry on ;—
The great, the good, the just, the wise,
(Law and religion overthrown,)
Are first mark'd out for sacrifice.
When, to a height their fury grown,
Finding, too late, he can't retire,
He proves the real Phaeton,
And truly sets the world on fire.
A TALE OF A NETTLE.
A MAN with expense and infinite toil,
By digging and dunging, ennobled his soil;
There fruits of the best your taste did invite,
And uniform order still courted the sight.
No degenerate weeds the rich ground did produce,
But all things afforded both beauty and use:
Till from dunghill transplanted, while yet but a seed,
A nettle rear'd up his inglorious head.
The gard❜ner would wisely have rooted him up,
To stop the increase of a barbarous crop;
But the master forbid him, and after the fashion
Of foolish good nature, and blind moderation,
Forbore him through pity, and chose as much rather,
To ask him some questions first, how he came thither.
Kind sir, quoth the nettle, a stranger I come,
For conscience compell'd to relinquish my home,
'Cause I wouldn't subscribe to a mystery dark,
That the prince of all trees is the Jesuit's bark,ª
An erroneous tenet I know, sir, that you,
No more than myself, will allow to be true.
To you I for refuge and sanctuary sue,
There's none so renown'd for compassion as you;
And, though in some things I may differ from these,
The rest of your fruitful and beautiful trees;
Though your digging and dunging, my nature much
harms,
And I cannot comply with your garden in forms:
Yet I and my family, after our fashion,
Will peaceably stick to our own education.
Be pleased to allow them a place for to rest 'em,
For the rest of your trees we will never molest 'em ;
A kind shelter to us and protection afford,
We'll do you no harm, sir, I'll give you my word.
The good man was soon won by this plausible tale,
So fraud on good-nature doth often prevail.
He welcomes his guest, gives him free toleration
In the midst of his garden to take up his station,
And into his breast doth his enemy bring,
He little suspected the nettle could sting.
Till flush'd with success, and of strength to be fear'd,
Around him a numerous offspring he rear'd.
Then the master grew sensible what he had done,
And fain he would have his new guest to be gone;
But now 'twas too late to bid him turn out,
A well-rooted possession already was got.
The old trees decay'd, and in their room grew .
A stubborn, pestilent, poisonous crew.
The master, who first the young brood had admitted,
They stung like ingrates and left him unpitied.
No help from manuring or planting was found,
The ill weeds had eat out the heart of the ground.
All weeds they let in, and none they refuse
That would join to oppose the good man of the house.
Thus one nettle uncropp'd, increased to such store,
That 'twas nothing but weeds what was garden before.
In allusion to the supremacy of Rome.
THE RUN UPON THE BANKERS, &c.
713
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG,
1720.
ON A SEDITIOUS PAMPHLET.
To the tune of "Packington's Pound."
THIS ballad alludes to the dean's "Proposal for the use of Irish
Manufactures," for which Waters the printer was prosecuted
with great violence.
BROCADES and damasks, and tabbies, and gauzes,
Are, by Robert Ballantine, lately brought over,
With forty things more: now hear what the law says,
Whoe'er will not wear them is not the king's lover.
Though a printer and dean
Seditiously mean
Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean,
We'll buy English silks for our wives and our
daughters,
In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.
In England the dead in woollen are clad,
The dean and his printer then let us cry fie on;
To be clothed like a carcase would make a Teague
Since a living dog better is than a dead lion. [mad,
Our wives they grow sullen.
At wearing of woollen,
And all we poor shopkeepers must our horns pull in.
Then we'll buy English silks for our wives and our
daughters,
In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.
Whoever our trading with England would hinder,
To inflame both the nations do plainly conspire,
Because Irish linen will soon turn to tinder,
And wool it is greasy and quickly takes fire.
Therefore I assure ye,
Our noble grand jury,
When they saw the dean's book they were in a great
They would buy English silks for their wives and
their daughters,
[fury;
In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.
This wicked rogue Waters, who always is sinning,
And before coram nobis so oft has been call'd,
Henceforward shall print neither pamphlets nor linen,
And if swearing can do't shall be swingingly maul'd;
And as for the dean,
You know whom I mean,
[clean.
If the printer will peach him, he'll scarce come off
Then we'll buy English silks for our wives and our
daughters,
In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.
THE RUN UPON THE BANKERS. 1720.
THE bold encroachers on the deep,
Gain by degrees huge tracts of land,
Till Neptune with one general sweep
Turns all again to barren strand.
The multitude's capricious pranks
Are said to represent the seas,
Which, breaking bankers and the banks,
Resume their own whene'er they please.
Money, the life-blood of the nation,
Corrupts and stagnates in the veins,
Unless a proper circulation
Its motion and its heat maintains.
Because 'tis lordly not to pay,
Quakers and aldermen in state,
Like peers, have levees every day
Of duns attending at their gate.
We want our money on the nail;
The banker's ruin'd if he pays :
They seem to act an ancient tale;
The birds are met to strip the jays.
"Riches," the wisest monarch sings,
"Make pinions for themselves to fly;"
They fly like bats on parchment wings,
And geese their silver plumes supply.
No money left for squandering heirs!
Bills turn the lenders into debtors:
The wish of Nero now is theirs,
"That they had never known their letters."
Conceive the works of midnight hags,
Tormenting fools behind their backs:
Thus bankers, o'er the bills and bags,
Sit squeezing images of wax.
Conceive the whole enchantment broke;
The witches left in open air,
With power no more than other folk,
Exposed with all their magic ware.
So powerful are a banker's bills,
Where creditors demand their due;
They break up counters, doors, and tills,
And leave the empty chests in view.
Thus when an earthquake lets in light
Upon the god of gold and hell,
Unable to endure the sight,
He hides within his darkest cell.
As when a conjurer takes a lease
From Satan for a term of years,
The tenant's in a dismal case,
Whene'er the bloody bond appears.
A baited banker thus desponds,
From his own hand foresees his fall;
They have his soul, who have his bonds;
'Tis like the writing on the wall.
How will the caitiff wretch be scared,
When first he finds himself awake
At the last trumpet, unprepared,
And all his grand account to make!
For in that universal call
Few bankers will to heaven be mounters;
They'll cry, "Ye shops, upon us fall!
Conceal and cover us, ye counters!"
When other hands the scales shall hold.
And they, in men's and angels' sight
Produced with all their bills and gold,
Weigh'd in the balance and found light!"
UPON THE HORRID PLOT
DISCOVERED BY HARLEQUIN, THE BISHOP OF ROCHES-
TER'S FRENCH DOG.
In a dialogue between a Whig and a Tory, 1723.
I ASK'd a Whig the other night,
How came this wicked plot to light?
He answer'd, that a dog of late
Inform'd a minister of state.
Said I, From thence I nothing know;
For are not all informers so?
A villain who his friend betrays,
We style him by no other phrase;
And so a perjured dog denotes
Porter, and Pendergast, and Oates,
And forty others I could name.
WHIG. But you must know this dog was lame.
TORY. A weighty argument indeed!
Your evidence was lame :-proceed :
Come, help your lame dog o'er the stile.
WHIG. Sir, you mistake me all this while:
I mean a dog (without a joke)
Can howl, and bark, but never spoke
TORY. I'm still to seek which dog you mean :
Whether cur Plunkett, or whelp Skean,a
An English or an Irish hound;
Or t'other puppy, that was drown'd;
a John Kelley, and Skin, or Skinner, were persons engaged
in the plot.
714
ELEGY ON JUDGE BOAT-ON WHITSHED'S MOTTO.
Or Mason, that abandon'd bitch :
Then pray be free, and tell me which:
For every stander-by was marking
That all the noise they made was barking.
You pay them well, the dogs have got
Their dog's-head in a porridge-pot:
And 'twas but just; for wise men say
That every dog must have his day.
Dog Walpole laid a quart of nog on't,
He'd either make a hog or dog on't ;
And look'd, since he had got his wish,
As if he had thrown down a dish;
Yet this I dare foretel you from it,
He'll soon return to his own vomit.
WHIG. Besides, this horrid plot was found
By Neynoe, after he was drown'd.
TORY. Why then the proverb is not right,
Since you can teach dead dogs to bite.
WHIG. I proved my proposition full:
But Jacobites are strangely dull.
Now, let me tell you plainly, sir,
Our witness is a real cur,
A dog of spirit for his years;
Has twice two legs, two hanging ears;
His name his Harlequin, I wot,
And that's a name in every plot:
Resolved to save the British nation,
Though French by birth and education;
His correspondence plainly dated,
Was all decipher'd and translated:
His answers were exceeding pretty,
Before the secret wise committee;
Confess'd as plain as he could bark:
Then with his fore-foot set his mark.
TORY. Then all this while have I been bubbled,
I thought it was a dog in doublet:
The matter now no longer sticks:
For statesmen never want dog-tricks.
But since it was a real cur,
And not a dog in metaphor,
I give you joy of the report,
That he's to have a place at court.
WIIG. Yes, and a place he will grow rich in;
A turnspit in the royal kitchen.
Sir, to be plain, I tell you what,
We had occassion for a plot ;
And when we found the dog begin it,
We guess'd the bishop's foot was in it.
TORY. I own it was a dangerous project,
And you have proved it by dog-logic.
Sure such intelligence between
A dog and bishop ne'er was seen,
Till you began to change the breed;
Your bishops all are dogs indeed!
A QUIBBLING ELEGY ON JUDGE BOAT.
1723.
To mournful ditties, Clio, change thy note,
Since cruel fate has sunk our Justice Boat;
Why should he sink where nothing seem'd to press,
His lading little and his ballast less?
Toss'd in the waves of this tempestuous world,
At length, his anchor fix'd and canvass furl'd,
To Lazy-hill a retiring from his court,
b
At his Ring's end he founders in the port.
With water fill'd, he could no longer float,
The common death of many a stronger boat.
A post so fill'd on nature's laws entrenches:
Beuches on boats are placed, not boats on benches.
a A street in Dublin, leading to the harbour.
b A village near the sca.
• It was said he died of a dropsy.
And yet our Boat (how shall I reconcile it?)
Was both a Boat, and in one sense a pilot,
With every wind he sail'd, and well could tack :
Had many pendants, but abhorr'd a Jack.a
He's gone, although his friends began to hope
That he might yet be lifted by a rope.
Behold the awful bench on which he sat!
He was as hard and ponderous wood as that:
Yet when his sand was out we find at last
That death has overset him with a blast.
Our Boat is now sail'd to the Stygian ferry,
There to supply old Charon's leaky wherry;
Charon in him will ferry souls to hell;
A trade our Boat has practised here so well:
And Cerberus has ready in his paws
Both pitch and brimstone to fill up his flaws.
Yet, spite of death and fate, I here maintain
We may place Boat in his old post again.
The way is thus; and well deserves your thanks:
Take the three strongest of his broken planks,
Fix them on high, conspicuous to be seen,
Form'd like the triple tree near Stephen's-green:
And, when we view it thus with thief at end on't,
We'll cry; look, here's our Boat, and there's the
pendant.
THE EPITAPH.
HERE lies judge Boat within a coffin:
Pray, gentlefolks, forbear your scoffing.
A Boat a judge! yes; where's the blunder?
A wooden judge is no such wonder.
And in his robes you must agree
No boat was better deck'd than he.
'Tis needless to describe him fuller;
In short, he was an able sculler.
VERSES OCCASIONED BY WHITSHED'Sa
MOTTO ON HIS COACH. 1724.
Libertas et natale solum :e
Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em.
Could nothing but thy chief reproach
Serve for a motto on thy coach?
But let me now thy words translate :
Natale solum, my estate;
My dear estate, how well I love it,
My tenants, if you doubt, will prove it,
They swear I am so kind and good,
I hug them till I squeeze their blood.
Libertas bears a large import :
First, how to swagger in a court;
And, secondly, to show my fury
Against an uncomplying jury;
And, thirdly, 'tis a new invention,
To favour Wood, and keep my pension;
And, fourthly, 'tis to play an odd trick,
Get the great seal and turn out Broderick
And, fifthly, (you know whom I mean,)
To humble that vexatious dean :
And, sixthly, for my soul to barter it
For fifty times its worth to Carteret. 5
Now since your motto thus you construe,
I must confess you've spoken once true,
Libertas et natale solum :
You had good reason when you stole 'em.
A cant word for a Jacobite.
b In condemning malefactors as a judge.
Where the Dublin gallows stands.
f
That noted chief-justice who twice proscented the drapier,
and dissolved the grand jury for not finding the bill against
him.
• This motto is repeatedly mentioned in the Drapier's Letters.
f Allan Broderick, lord viscount Middleton, was then lord-
chancellor of Ireland.
5 Lord-lieutenant of Ireland.
VERSES ON WILLIAM WOOD-PROMETHEUS.
715
VERSES ON THE REVIVAL OF THE
ORDER OF THE BATH.
DURING WALPOLE'S ADMINISTRATION, A.D. 1724.
By an unknown hand.
QUOTI king Robin, our ribbons I see are too few
Of St. Andrew's the green, and St. George's the
I must find out another of colour more gay, [blue.
That will teach all my subjects with pride to obey.
Though the exchequer be drain'd by prodigal donors,
Yet the king ne'er exhausted his fountain of honours.
Men of more wit than money our pensions will fit,
And this will fit men of more money than wit.
Thus my subjects with pleasure will obey my com-
mands,
Though as empty as Younge, and as saucy as Sandes.
And he who'll leap over a stick for the king,
Is qualified best for a dog in a string.
EPIGRAM ON WOOD'S BRASS MONEY.
CARTERET was welcomed to the shore
First with the brazen cannon's roar;
To meet him next the soldier comes,
With brazen trumps and brazen drums;
Approaching near the town he hears
The brazen bells salute his ears:
But when Wood's brass began to sound,
Guns, trumpets, drums, and bells, were drown'd.
A SIMILE ON OUR WANT OF SILVER,
AND THE ONLY WAY TO REMEDY IT. 1725.
As when of old some sorceress threw
O'er the moon's face a sable hue,
To drive unseen her magic chair,
At midnight, through the darken'd air;
Wise people, who believed with reason,
That this eclipse was out of season,
Affirm'd the moon was sick, and fell
To cure her by a counter-spell.
Ten thousand cymbals now begin
To rend the skies with brazen din;
The cymbals' rattling sounds dispel
The cloud, and drive the hag to hell.
The moon, deliver'd from her pain,
Displays her silver face again.
Note here, that in the chemic style,
The moon is silver all this while.
So (if my simile you minded,
Which I confess is too long-winded)
When late a feminine magician,a
Join'd with a brazen politician,"
Exposed, to blind the nation's eyes,
A parchmente of prodigious size;
Conceal'd behind that ample screen,
There was no silver to be seen.
But to this parchment let the drapier
Oppose his counter-charm of paper,
And ring Wood's copper in our ears
So loud till all the nation hears;
That sound will make the parchment shrivel,
And drive the conjurers to the devil;
And when the sky is grown serene,
Our silver will appear again.
WOOD AN INSECT. 1725.
By long observation I have understood
That two little vermin are kin to Will Wood.
The first is an insect they call a wood-louse,
That folds up itself in itself for a house,
As round as a ball, without head without tail,
Enclosed cap à pié, in a strong coat of mail.
a The duchess of Kendal.
b
Walpole, nick-named sir Robert Brass.
• The patent for coining halfpence.
And thus William Wood to my fancy appears
In fillets of brass roll'd up to his ears;
And over these fillets he wisely has thrown,
To keep out of danger, a doublet of stone.ª
The louse of the wood for a medicine is used,
Or swallow'd alive, or skilfully bruised.
And, let but our mother Hibernia contrive
To swallow Will Wood, either bruised or alive,
She need be no more with the jaundice possess'd,
Or sick of obtrusions and pains in her chest.
The next is an insect we call a wood-worm,
That lies in old wood like a hare in her form;
With teeth or with claws it will bite or will scratch,
And chambermaids christen this worm a death-
Because like a watch it always crics click; [watch;
Then woe be to those in the house who are sick :
For, as sure as a gun, they will give up the ghost,
If the maggot cries click when it scratches the post.
But a kettle of scalding-hot water injected
Infallibly cures the timber affected;
The omen is broken, the danger is over;
The maggot will die, and the sick will recover.
Such a worm was Will Wood, when he scratch'd at
the door
Of a governing-statesman or favourite whore ;
The death of our nation he seem'd to foretell,
And the sound of his brass we took for our knell.
But now, since the drapier has heartily maul'd him,
I think the best thing we can do is to scald him;
For which operation there's nothing more proper
Than the liquor he deals in, his own melted copper;
Unless, like the Dutch, you rather would boil
This coiner of rapsb in a caldron of oil. [fagot,
Then choose which you please, and let each bring a
For our fear's at an end with the death of the maggot.
PROMETHEUS,
ON WOOD TIE PATENTEE'S IRISII HALFPENCE. 1724.
1
As when the squire and tinker Wood,
Gravely consulting Ireland's good,
Together mingled in a mass
Smith's dust, and copper, lead, and brass;
The mixture thus by chemic art
United close in every part,
In fillets roll'd, or cut in pieces,
Appear'd like one continued species;
And, by the forming engine struck,
On all the same impression stuck,
So, to confound this hated coin,
All parties and religions join;
Whigs, Tories, trimmers, Hanoverians,
Quakers, conformists, presbyterians,
Scotch, Irish, English, French, unite,
With equal interest, equal spite;
Together mingled in a lump,
Do all in one opinion jump;
And every one begins to find
The same impression on his mind.
A strange event! whom gold incites
To blood and quarrels, brass unites;
So goldsmiths say, the coarsest stuff
Will serve for solder well enough:
So by the kettle's loud alarm
The bees are gather'd to a swarm:
So by the brazen trumpet's bluster
Troops of all tongues and nations muster;
And so the harp of Ireland brings
Whole crowds about its brazen strings.
He was in jail for debt.
b Counterfeit halfpence.
• See an account of Wood's project in the Drapier's Letter.
716
VERSES ON WOOD-WOOD'S PETITION.
II.
There is a chain let down from Jove,
But fasten'd to his throne above,
So strong that from the lower end
They say all human things depend.
This chain, as ancient poets hold,
When Jove was young, was made of gold,
Prometheus once this chain purloin'd,
Dissolved, and into money coin'd;
Then whips me on a chain of brass-
(Venusa was bribed to let it pass),
;
Now while this brazen chain prevail'd,
Jove saw that all devotion fail'd
No temple to his godship raised;
No sacrifice on altars blazed
;
In short, such dire confusion follow'd,
Earth must have been in chaos swallow'd.
Jove stood amazed; but looking round,
With much ado the cheat he found;
'Twas plain he could no longer hold
The world in any chain but gold;
And to the god of wealth, his brother,
Sent Mercury to get another.
Prometheus on a rock is laid,
Tied with the chain himself had made,
On icy Caucasus to shiver,
While vultures eat his growing liver.
III.
Ye powers of Grub-street, make me able
Discreetly to apply this fable;
Say, who is to be understood
By that old thief Prometheus? Wood.
For Jove, it is not hard to guess him;
I mean his majesty, God bless him.
This thief and blacksmith was so bold,
He strove to steal that chain of gold
Which links the subject to the king,
And change it for a brazen string.
But sure, if nothing else must pass
Between the king and us but brass,
Although the chain will never crack,
Yet our devotion may grow slack.
But Jove will soon convert, I hope,
This brazen chain into a rope;
With which Prometheus shall be tied,
And high in air for ever ride;
Where, if we find his liver grows,
For want of vultures, we have crows.
ON WOOD THE IRONMONGER. 1725.
SALMONEUS, as the Grecian tale is,
Was a mad coppersmith of Elis:
Up at his forge by morning peep,
No creature in the lane could sleep
Among a crew of roystering fellows
Would sit whole evenings at the alehouse;
His wife and children wanted bread,
While he went always drunk to bed.
This vapouring scab must needs devise
To ape the thunder of the skies:
With brass two fiery steeds he shod,
To make a clattering as they trod,
Of polish'd brass his flaming car
Like lightning dazzled from afar;
And up he mounts into the box,
And he must thunder with a pox.
Then furious he begins his march,
Drives rattling o'er a brazen arch;
With squibs and crackers arm'd to throw
Among the trembling crowd below.
a Duchess of Kendal again.
All ran to prayers, both priests and laity,
To pacify this angry deity;
When Jove, in pity to the town,
With real thunder knock'd him down.
Then what a huge delight were all in,
To see the wicked varlet sprawling ;
They search'd his pockets on the place,
And found his copper all was base;
They laugh'd at such an Irish blunder,
To take the noise of brass for thunder.
The moral of this tale is proper,
Applied to Wood's adulterate copper:
Which, as he scatter'd, we, like dolts,
Mistook at first for thunderbolts,
Before the drapier shot a letter,
(Nor Jove himself could do it better,)
Which, lighting on th' impostor's crown,
Like real thunder knock'd him down.
WILL WOOD'S PETITION TO THE PEOPLE
OF IRELAND.
BEING AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG, SUPPOSED TO BE
MADE, AND SUNG IN THE STREETS OF DUBLIN
BY WILLIAM WOOD, IRONMONGER AND
HALFPENNY-MONGER.-1725.
My dear Irish folks,
Come leave off your jokes,
And buy up my halfpence so fine;
So fair and so bright,
They'll give you delight;
Observe how they glisten and shine!
They'll sell to my grief
As cheap as neck-beef,
For counters at cards to your wife;
And every day
Your children may play
Span-farthing or toss on the knife.
Come hither and try,
I'll teach you to buy
A pot of good ale for a farthing;
Come, threepence a score,
I ask you no more,
And a fig for the drapier and Harding,a
When tradesmen have gold,
The thief will be bold,
By day and by night for to rob him :
My copper is such,
No robber will touch,
And so you may daintily bob him.
The little blackguard
Who gets very hard
His halfpence for cleaning your shoes:
When his pockets are cramm'd
With mine, and be d-d,
He may swear he has nothing to lose.
Here's halfpence in plenty,
For one you'll have twenty,
Though thousands are not worth a pudden.
Your neighbours will think,
When your pocket cries chink,
You are grown plaguy rich on a sudden.
You will be my thankers,
I'll make you my bankers,
As good as Ben Burton or Fade;b
For nothing shall pass
But my pretty brass,
And then you'll be all of a trade.
I'm a son of a whore
If I have a word more
The drapier's printer,
Two famous bankers.
ON WOOD'S HALFPENCE.
717
To say in this wretched condition.
If my coin will not pass,
I must die like an ass;
And so I conclude my petition.
A NEW SONG
ON WOOD'S HALFPENCE.
YE people of Ireland, both country and city,
Come listen with patience, and hear out my ditty:
At this time I'll choose to be wiser than witty.
Which nobody can deny.
The halfpence are coming, the nation's undoing,
There's an end of your ploughing, and baking and
brewing;
In short, you must all go to wreck and to ruin.
Which nobody can deny.
Both high men and low men, and thick men and tall
men,
[men,
And rich men and poor men, and free men and thrall
Will suffer; and this man, and that man, and all men.
Which nobody can deny.
The soldier is ruin'd, poor man! by his pay;
His fivepence will prove but a farthing a-day,
For meat, or for drink; or he must run away.
Which nobody can deny.
When he pulls out his twopence, the tapster says not
That ten times as much he must pay for his shot;
And thus the poor soldier must soon go to pot.
Which nobody can deny.
If he goes to the baker, the baker will huff,
And twentypence have for a twopenny loaf,
Then dog, rogue, and rascal, and so kick and cuff.
Which nobody can deny.
Again, to the market whenever he goes,
The butcher and soldier must be mortal foes,
One cuts off an ear, and the other a nose.
Which nobody can deny.
The butcher is stout, and he values no swagger;
A cleaver's a match any time for a dagger,
And a blue sleeve may give such a cuff as may stagger.
Which nobody can deny.
The beggars themselves will be broke in a trice,
When thus their poor farthings are sunk in their price;
When nothing is left, they must live on their lice.
Which nobody can deny.
The squire possess'd of twelve thousand a-year,
O Lord! what a mountain his rents would appear!
Should he take them, he would not have house-room,
I fear.
Which nobody can deny.
Though at present he lives in a very large house,
There would then not be room in it left for a mouse;
But the squire's too wise, he will not take a souse.
Which nobody can deny.
The farmer who comes with his rent in this cash,
For taking these counters and being so rash,
Will be kick'd out of doors, both himself and his
trash.
Which nobody can deny.
For, in all the leases that ever we hold,
We must pay our rent in good silver and gold,
And not in brass tokens of such a base mould.
Which nobody can deny.
The wisest of lawyers all swear they will warrant
No money but silver and gold can be current;
And, since they will swear it, we all may be sure on't.
Which nobody can deny.
And I think, after all, it would be very strange,
To give current money for base in exchange,
Like a fine lady swopping her moles for the mange.
Which nobody can deny.
|
But read the king's patent, and there you will find
That no man need take them but who has a mind,
For which we must say that his majesty's kind.
Which nobody can deny.
Now God bless the drapier who open'd our eyes!
I'm sure, by his book, that the writer is wise:
He shows us the cheat, from the end to the rise.
Which nobody can deny.
Nay, farther, he shows it a very hard case,
That this fellow Wood, of a very bad race,
Should of all the fine gentry of Ireland take place.
Which nobody can deny.
That he and his halfpence should come to weigh
Our subjects so loyal and true to the crown: [down
But I hope, after all, that they will be his own.
Which nobody can deny.
This book, I do tell you, is writ for your goods,
And a very good book 'tis against Mr. Wood's;
If you stand true together, he's left in the suds.
Which nobody can deny.
Ye shopmen, and tradesmen, and farmers, go read it,
For I think in my soul at this time that you need it;
Or, egad, if you don't, there's an end of your credit.
Which nobody can deny.
A SERIOUS POEM UPON WILLIAM WOOD,
BRAZIER, TINKER, HARDWAREMAN, COINER,
FOUNDER, AND ESQUIRE.
WHEN foes are o'ercome we preserve them from
slaughter,
To be hewers of wood and drawers of water.
Now, although to draw water is not very good,
Yet we all should rejoice to be hewers of Wood.
I own it has often provoked me to mutter,
That a rogue so obscure should make such a clutter;
But ancient philosophers wisely remark
That old rotten wood will shine in the dark.
The heathens, we read, had gods made of wood,
Who could do them no harm, if they did them no
But this idol Wood may do us great evil; [good;
Their gods were of wood, but our Wood is the devil.
To cut down fine wood is a very bad thing;
And yet we all know much gold it will bring:
Then, if cutting down wood brings money good store,
Our money to keep, let us cut down one more.
Now hear an old tale. There anciently stood
(I forget in what church) an image of wood;
Concerning this image, there went a prediction,
It would burn a whole forest; nor was it a fiction.
'Twas cut into fagots and put to the flame,
To burn an old friar, one Forest by name.
My tale is a wise one, if well understood;
Find you but the friar, and I'll find the Wood.
I hear among scholars there is a great doubt,
From what kind of tree this Wood was hewn out,
Teague made a good pun by a brogue in his speech,
And said, "By my shoul he's the son of a BEECH."
Some call him a thorn, the curse of the nation,
As thorns were design'd to be from the creation.
Some think him cut out from the poisonous yew,
Beneath whose ill shade no plant ever grew.
Some say he's a birch, a thought very odd;
For none but a dunce would come under his rod.
But I'll tell the secret, and pray do not blab :-
He is an old stump, cut out of a crab;
And England has put this crab to a hard use,
To cudgel our bones, and for drink give us verjuice;
And therefore his witnesses justly may boast
That none are more properly knights of the post.
But here Mr. Wood complains that we mock,
Though he may be a blockhead, he's no real block.
He can cat, drink, and sleep; now and then for a
He'll not be too proud au old kettle to mend; [friend
718
POEM ON WOOD-A NEW SONG.
He can lie like a courtier, and think it no scorn,
When gold's to be got, to forswear and suborn.
He can rap his own raps,ª and has the true sapience,
To turn a good penny to twenty bad halfpence.
Then in spite of your sophistry, honest Will Wood
Is a man of this world, all true flesh and blood;
So you are but in jest, and you will not, I hope,
Unman the poor knave for the sake of a trope.
'Tis a metaphor known to every plain thinker,
Just as when we say, the devil's a tinker,
Which cannot, in literal sense be made good,
Unless by the devil we mean Mr. Wood.
But some will object that the devil oft spoke,
In heathenish times from the trunk of an oak;
And since we must grant there never were known
More heathenish times than those of our own;
Perhaps you will say, 'tis the devil that puts
The words in Wood's mouth, or speaks from his guts:
And then your old arguments still will return;
Howe'er, let us try him, and see how he'll burn :
You'll pardon me, sir, your cunning I smoke,
But Wood, I assure you, is no heart of oak;
And, instead of the devil, this son of perdition
Hath join'd with himself two hags in commission.
I ne'er could endure my talent to smother :
I told you one tale, and I'll tell you another.
A joiner to fasten a saint in a niche,
Bored a large auger-hole in the image's breech;
But, finding the statue to make no complaint,
He would ne'er be convinced it was a true saint.
When the true Wood arrives, as he soon will, no doubt,
(For that's but a sham Wood they carry about,"”)
What stuff he is made of you quickly may find
If you make the same trial and bore him behind.
I'll hold you a groat, when you wimble his bum,
He'll bellow as loud as the devil in a drum.
From me I declare you shall have no denial;
And there can be no harm in making a trial:
And when to the joy of your hearts he has roar'd,
You may show him about for a new groaning board.
Now ask me a question. How came it to pass
Wood got so much copper? He got it by brass;
This Brass was a dragon, (observe what I tell ye,)
This dragon had gotten two sows in his belly;
I know you will say this is all heathen Greek.
I own it, and therefore I leave you to seek.
I often have seen two plays very good,
Call'd Love in a Tub, and Love in a Wood;
These comedies twain friend Wood will contrive
On the scene of this land very soon to revive.
First, Love in a Tub: squire Wood has in store
Strong tubs for his raps, two thousand and more;
These raps he will honestly dig out with shovels,
And sell then for gold, or he can't show his love else.
Wood swears he will do it for Ireland's good,
Then can you deny it is Love in a Wood?
However, if critics find fault with the phrase,
I hope you will own it is Love in a Maze :
For when to express a friend's love you are willing,
We never say more than your love is a million;
But with honest Wood's love there is no contending,
'Tis fifty round millions of love and a mending.
Then in his first love why should he be cross'd?
I hope he will find that no love is lost.
Hear one story more and then I will stop.
I dreamt Wood was told he should die by a drop :
So methought he resolved no liquor to taste,
For fear the first drop might as well be his last.
But dreams are like oracles; 'tis hard to explain 'em;
For it proved that he died of a drop at Kilmainham.c
A
Forging his own copper coin.
He was repeatedly burnt in effigy.
The place of execution near Dublin.
I waked with delight; and not without hope,
Very soon to see Wood drop down from a rope.
How he and how we at each other should grin !
'Tis kindness to hold a friend up by the chin.
But soft! says the herald, I cannot agree;
For metal on metal is false heraldry.
Why that may be true; yet Wood upon Wood,
I'll maintain with my life, is heraldry good.
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG,
UPON THE DECLARATIONS OF THE SEVERAL CORPORA-
TIONS OF THE CITY OF DUBLIN AGAINST WOOD'S HALF-
PENCE.
To the tune of "London is a Fine Town," &c.
O DUBLIN is a fine town
And a gallant city,
For Wood's trash is tumbled down,
Come listen to my ditty.
o Dublin is a fine town, &c.
In full assembly all did meet
Of every corporation,
From every lane and every street,
To save the sinking nation.
O Dublin, &c.
The bankers would not let it pass
For to be Wood's tellers,
Instead of gold to count his brass,
And fill their small-beer cellars.
O Dublin, &c.
And next to them, to take his coin
The Gild would not submit,
They all did go, and all did join,
And so their names they writ.
O Dublin, &c.
The brewers met within their hall,
And spoke in lofty strains,
These halfpence shall not pass at all,
They want so many grains.
O Dublin, &c.
The tailors came upon this pinch,
And wish'd the dog in hell,
Should we give this same Woods an inch,
We know he'd take an ell.
O Dublin, &c.
But now the noble clothiers
Of honour and renown,
If they take Wood's halfpence
They will be all cast down.
O Dublin, &c.
The shoemakers came on the next,
And said they would much rather,
Than be by Wood's copper vext,
Take money stamp'd on leather.
O Dublin, &c.
The chandlers next in order came,
And what they said was right,
They hoped the rogue that laid the scheme
Would soon be brought to light.
O Dublin, &c.
And that if Woods were now withstood,
To his eternal scandal,
That twenty of these halfpence should
Not buy a farthing candle.
O Dublin, &c.
The butchers then, those men so brave,
Spoke thus, and with a frown;
Should Woods, that cunning scoundrel knave,
Come here, we'd knock him down.
O Dublin, &c.
PARAPHRASE ON HORACE, &c.
719
For any rogue that comes to truck
And trick away our trade,
Deserves not only to be stuck,
But also to be flay'd.
O Dublin, &c.
The bakers in a ferment were,
And wisely shook their head;
Should these brass tokens once come here,
We'd all have lost our bread.
O Dublin, &c.
It set the very tinkers mad,
The baseness of the metal,
Because, they said, it was so bad
It would not mend a kettle.
O Dublin, &c.
The carpenters and joiners stood
Confounded in a maze,
They seem'd to be all in a wood,
And so they went their ways.
O Dublin, &c.
This coin how well could we employ it
In raising of a statue,
To those brave men that would destroy it,
And then, old Woods, have at you.
O Dublin, &c.
God prosper long our tradesmen then,
And so he will I hope,
May they be still such honest men,
When Woods has got a rope.
o Dublin is a fine town, &c.
VERSES ON THE UPRIGHT JUDGE
WHO CONDEMNED THE DRAPIER'S PRINTER.
THE church I hate, and have good reason,
For there my grandsire cut his weasand:
He cut his weasand at the altar;
I keep my gullet for the halter.
ON THE SAME.
IN church your grandsire cut his throat;
To do the job too long he tarried:
He should have had my hearty vote
To cut his throat before he married.
ON THE SAME.
(THE JUDGE SPEAKS.)
I'm not the grandson of that ass Quin;
Nor can you prove it, Mr. Pasquin.
My grand-dame had gallants by twenties,
And bore my mother by a 'prentice.
This when my grandsire knew, they tell us he
In Christchurch cut his throat for jealousy.
And, since the alderman was mad you say,
Then I must be so too, ex traduce.
EPIGRAM, APRIL 1735.
In answer to the dean's verses on his own deafness.
WHAT though the dean hears not the knell
Of the next church's passing bell;
What though the thunder from a cloud,
Or that from female tongue more loud,
Alarm not: At the DRAPIER's ear
Chink but Wood's halfpence, and he'll hear.
HORACE. BOOK I. ODE XIV.
PARAPHRASED AND INSCRIBED TO IRELAND.
THE INSCRIPTION.
1726.
Poor floating isle, toss'd on ill fortune's waves,
Ordain'd by fate to be the land of slaves;
Shall moving Delos now deep-rooted stand;
Thou fix'd of old, be now the moving land!
Although the metaphor be worn and stale,
Betwixt a state and vessel under sail ;
Let me suppose thee for a ship a while,
And thus address thee in the sailor's style.
UNHAPPY ship, thou art return'd in vain;
New waves shall drive thee to the deep again.
Look to thyself, and be no more the sport
Of giddy winds, but make some friendly port.
Lost are thy oars that used thy course to guide,
Like faithful counsellors, on either side.
Thy mast, which like some aged patriot stood,
The single pillar for his country's good,
To lead thee, as a staff directs the blind,
Behold, it cracks by yon rough eastern wind;
Your cables burst, and you must quickly feel
The waves impetuous enter at your keel ;
Thus commonwealths receive a foreign yoke
When the strong cords of union once are broke.
Torn by a sudden tempest is thy sail,
Expanded to invite a milder gale.
As when some writer in a public cause
His pen, to save a sinking nation, draws,
While all is calm, his arguments prevail;
The people's voice expands his paper sail;
Till power, discharging all her stormy bags,
Flutters the feeble pamphlet into rags,
The nation scared, the author doom'd to death,
Who fondly put his trust in popular breath.
A larger sacrifice in vain you vow;
There's not a power above will help you now;
A nation thus, who oft Heaven's call neglects,
In vain from injured Heaven relief expects.
'Twill not avail, when thy strong sides are broke,
That thy descent is from the British oak;
Or, when your name and family you boast,
From fleets triumphant o'er the Gallic coast.
Such was Ierne's claim, as just as thine,
Her sons descended from the British line;
Her matchless sons, whose valour still remains
On French records for twenty long campaigns;
Yet, from an empress now a captive grown,
She saved Britannia's rights, and lost her own.
In ships decay'd no mariner confides,
Lured by the gilded stern and painted sides:
Yet at a ball unthinking fools delight
In the gay trappings of a birthday night :
They on the gold brocades and satins raved,
And quite forgot their country was enslaved.
Dear vessel, still be to thy steerage just,
Nor change thy course with every sudden gust;
Like supple patriots of the modern sort,
Who turn with every gale that blows from court.
Weary and sea-sick, when in thee confined,
Now for thy safety cares distract my mind;
As those who long have stood the storms of state
Retire, yet still bemoan their country's fate.
Beware, and when you hear the surges roar,
Avoid the rocks on Britain's angry shore.
They lie, alas! too easy to be found;
For thee alone they lie the island round.
VERSES
ON THE SUDDEN DRYING UP OF
ST. PATRICK'S WELL,
NEAR TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN. 1726.
By holy zeal inspired, and led by fame,
To thee, once favourite isle, with joy I came ;
What time the Goth, the Vandal, and the Hun,
Had my own native Italy o'errun.
Ierne, to the world's remotest parts,
Renown'd for valour, policy, and arts.
Hither from Colchos, with the fleecy ore,
Jason arrived two thousand years before.
720
ON THE DRYING OF ST. PATRICK'S WELL, &c.
Thee, happy island, Pallas call'd her own,
When haughty Britain was a land unknown:
From thee, with pride, the Caledonians trace
The glorious founder of their kingly race:
Thy martial sons, whom now they dare despise,
Did once their land subdue and civilise ;
Their dress, their language, and the Scottish name,
Confess the soil from whence the victors came.
Well may they boast that ancient blood which runs.
Within their veins who are thy younger sons.
A conquest and a colony from thee,
The mother-kingdom left her children free;
From thee no mark of slavery they felt:
Not so with thee thy base invaders dealt;
Invited here to vengeful Morrough's aid,
Those whom they could not conquer they betray'd.
Britain, by thee we fell, ungrateful isle!
Not by thy valour, but superior guile :
Britain, with shame, confess this land of mine
First taught thee human knowledge and divine;
My prelates and my students, sent from hence,
Made your sons converts both to God and sense:
Not like the pastors of thy ravenous breed,
Who come to fleece the flocks, and not to feed.
Wretched Ierne! with what grief I see
The fatal changes time has made in thee!
The christian rites I introduced in vain :
Lo! infidelity return'd again !
Freedom and virtue in thy sons I found,
Who now in vice and slavery are drown'd.
By faith and prayer, this crosier in my hand,
I drove the venom'd serpent from thy land;
The shepherd in his bower might sleep or sing,
Nor dread the adder's tooth nor scorpion's sting.
With omens oft I strove to warn thy swains,
Omens, the types of thy impending chains.
I sent the magpie from the British´soil,
With restless beak thy blooming fruit to spoil;
To din thine ears with unharmonious clack,
And haunt thy holy walls in white and black.
What else are those thou seest in bishop's gear,
Who crop the nurseries of learning here;
Aspiring, greedy, full of senseless prate,
Devour the church, and chatter to the state?
As you grew more degenerate and base,
I sent you millions of the croaking race;
Emblems of insects vile, who spread their spawn
Through all thy land, in armour, fur, and lawn;
A nauseous brood, that fills your senate walls,
And in the chambers of your viceroy crawls !
See, where that new devouring vermin runs,
Sent in my anger from the land of Huns!
With harpy-claws it undermines the ground,
And sudden spreads a numerous offspring round.
Th' amphibious tyrant, with his ravenous band,
Drains all thy lakes of fish, of fruits thy land.
Where is the holy well that bore my name?
Fled to the fountain back, from whence it came!
Fair Freedom's emblem once, which smoothly flows,
And blessings equally on all bestows.
Here, from the neighbouring nursery of arts,ª
The students, drinking, raised their wit and parts;
Here, for an age and more, improved their vein,
Their Phoebus I, my spring their Hippocrene.
Discouraged youths! now all their hopes must fail,
Condemn'd to country cottages and ale;
To foreign prelates make a slavish court,
And by their sweat procure a mean support;
Or, for the classics, read "Th' Attorney's Guide;"
Collect excise, or wait upon the tide.
Oh! had I been apostle to the Swiss,
Or hardy Scot, or any land but this;
a The university of Dublin, called Trinity College, was
founded by Queen Elizabeth
Combined in arins, they had their foes defied,
And kept their liberty, or bravely died;
Thou still with tyrants in succession cursed,
The last invaders trampling on the first:
Nor fondly hope for some reverse of fate,
Virtue herself would now return too late.
Not half thy course of misery is run,
Thy greatest evils yet are scarce begun.
Soon shall thy sons (the time is just at hand)
Be all made captives in their native land;
When for the use of no Hibernian born,
Shall rise one blade of grass, one car of corn;
When shells and leather shall for money pass,
Nor thy oppressing lords afford thee brass,"
But all turn leasers to the mongrel breed,"
Who, from thee sprung yet on thy vitals feed;
Who to yon ravenous isle thy treasures bear,
And waste in luxury thy harvest there;
For pride and ignorance a proverb grown,
The jest of wits, and to the court unknown.
I scorn thy spurious and degenerate line,
And from this hour my patronage resign.
ON READING DR. YOUNG'S SATIRE,
CALLED THE UNIVERSAL PASSION.
1726.
Ir there be truth in what you sing,
Such godlike virtues in the king;
A minister so fill'd with zeal
And wisdom for the commonweal;
If hed who in the chair presides,
So steadily the senate guides;
If others, whom you make your theme,
Are seconds in the glorious scheme;
If every peer whom you commend,
To worth and learning be a friend;
If this be truth as you attest,
What land was ever half so blest!
No falsehood now among the great,
And tradesmen now no longer cheat:
Now on the bench fair Justice shines;
Her scale to neither side inclines :
Now Pride and Cruelty are flown,
And Mercy here exalts her throne ;
For such is good example's power,
It does its office every hour,
Where governors are good and wise;
Or else the truest maxim lies:
For so we find all ancient sages
Decree, that, ad exemplum regis,
Through all the realm his virtues run,
Ripening and kindling like the sun.
If this be true, then how much more
When you have named at least a score
Of courtiers, each in their degree,
If possible, as good as he?
Or take it in a different view.
I ask (if what you say be true)
If you affirm the present age
Deserves your satire's keenest rage;
If that same universal passion
With every vice has fill'd the nation:
If virtue dares not venture down
A single step beneath the crown ;
If clergymen, to show their wit,
Praise classics more than holy writ;
If bankrupts, when they are undone,
Into the senate-house can run,
" Wood's ruinous project was supported by sir Robert
Walpole.
The absentees.
Sir Robert Walpole, afterwards earl of Orford.
d Sir Spencer Compton, afterwards earl of Wilmington.
MAD MULLINIX AND TIMOTHY.
721
And sell their votes at such a rate
As will retrieve a lost estate ;
If law be such a partial whore,
To spare the rich and plague the poor:
If these be of all crimes the worst,
What land was ever half so curs'd?
THE DOG AND THIEF.
1726.
QUOTI the thief to the dog, let me into your door,
And I'll give you these delicate bits. [you're,
Quoth the dog, I shall then be more villain than
And besides must be out of my wits.
Your delicate bits will not serve me a meal,
But my master each day gives me bread;
You'll fly when you get what you came here to steal,
And I must be hang'd in your stead.
The stockjobber thus from 'Change-alley goes down,
And tips you the freeman a wink;
Let me have but your vote to serve for the town,
And here is a guinea to drink.
Says the freeman, your guinea to-night would be
Your offers of bribery cease:
[spent;
I'll vote for my landlord to whom I pay rent,
Or else I may forfeit my lease.
From London they come, silly people to chouse,
Their lands and their faces unknown:
Who'd vote a rogue into the parliament-house,
That would turn a man out of his own?
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN MAD MULLINIX
AND TIMOTHY. 1728.
"HAVING lately had an account that a certain person of some
distinction swore in a public coffeehouse that party should
never die while he lived (although it has been the endeavour
of the best and wisest among us to abolish the ridiculous ap-
pellations of Whig and Tory, and entirely to turn our thoughts
to the good of our prince and constitution in church and state),
I hope those who are well-wishers to our country will think
my labour not ill bestowed in giving this gentleman's princi-
ples the proper embellishments which they deserve; and since
Mad Mullinix is the only Tory now remaining who dares own
himself to be so, I hope I may not be censured by those of his
party for making him hold a dialogue with one of less conse-
quence on the other side. I shall not venture so far as to give
the christian nick-name of the person chiefly concerned; lest I
should give offence; for which reason I shall call him Timothy,
and leave the rest to the conjecture of the world."-Intelli-
gencer, No. 8.
M. I own, 'tis not my bread and butter,
But prithee, Tim, why all this clutter?
Why ever in these raging fits,
Damning to hell the Jacobites ?
When, if you search the kingdom round,
There's hardly twenty to be found;
No, not among the priests and friars-
T. 'Twixt you and me, G-d d-n the liars !
M. The Tories are gone every man over
To our illustrious house of Hanover;
From all their conduct this is is plain;
And then-
T. G-d d-n the liars again!
Did not an earl but lately vote
To bring in (I could cut his throat)
Our whole accounts of public debts
M. Lord! how this frothy coxcomb frets! [Aside.
T. Did not an able statesman bishop
This dangerous horrid motion dish up
As popish craft? did he not rail on't?
Show fire and fagot in the tail on't?
Proving the earl a grand offender,
And in a plot for the pretender;
Whose fleet, 'tis all our friends' opinion,
Was then embarking at Avignon?
M. These wrangling jars of Whig and Tory
Are stale and worn as Troy-town story:
VOL. 1.
The wrong, 'tis certain, you were both in,
And now you find you fought for nothing.
Your faction, when their game was new,
Might, want such noisy fools as you;
But you, when all the show is past,
Resolve to stand it out the last ;
Like Martin Marrall, gaping on,
Not minding when the song is done.
When all the bees are gone to settle,
You clatter still your brazen kettle.
The leaders whom you listed under
Have dropp'd their arms and seized the plunder;
And when the war is past you come
To rattle in their ears your drum:
And as that hateful hideous Grecian,
Thersites, (he was your relation,)
Was more abhorr'd and scorn'd by those
With whom he served than by his foes:
So thou art grown the detestation
Of all thy party through the nation :
Thy peevish and perpetual teasing
With plots, and Jacobites, and treason,
Thy busy never-meaning face,
Thy screw'd-up front, thy state grimace,
Thy formal nods, important sneers,
Thy whisperings foisted in all ears,
(Which are, whatever you may think,
But nonsense wrapp'd up in a stink,)
Have made thy presence, in a true sense,
To thy own side, so d-n'd a nuisance,
That when they have you in their eye,
As if the devil drove, they fly.
T. My good friend Mullinix, forbear;
I vow to G-, you're too severe:
If it could ever yet be known
I took advice, except my own,
It should be yours; but, d-n my blood!
I must pursue the public good :
The faction (is it not notorious?)
Keck at the memory of Glorious :ª
'Tis true; nor need I to be told
My quondam friends are grown so cold
That scarce a creature can be found
To prance with me his statue round.
The public safety, I foresee,
Henceforth depends alone on me;
And while this vital breath I blow,
Or from above or from below,
I'll sputter, swagger, curse, and rail,
The Tories' terror, scourge, and flail.
M. Tim, you mistake the matter quite;
The Tories! you are their delight;
And should you act a different part,
Be grave
and wise, 'twould break their heart,
Why, Tim, you have a taste I know,
And often see a puppet-show:
Observe the audience is in pain
While Punch is hid behind the scene;
But, when they hear his rusty voice:
With what impatience they rejoice!
And then they value not two straws
How Solomon decides the cause,
Which the true mother, which pretender;
Nor listen to the witch of Endor.
Should Faustus with the devil behind him
Enter the stage, they never mind him :
If Punch, to stir their fancy shows
In at the door his monstrous nose,
Then sudden draws it back again;
O what a pleasure mix'd with pain!
You every moment think an age
Till he appears upon the stage:
21
King William III.
3 A
722
MAD MULLINIX AND TIMOTHY.
And first his bum you see him clap
Upon the queen of Sheba's lap ;
The duke of Lorraine drew his sword;
Punch roaring ran, and running roar'd,
Reviles all people in his jargon,
And sold the king of Spain a bargain ;
St. George himself he plays the wag on,
And mounts astride upon the dragon ;
He gets a thousand thumps and kicks,
Yet cannot leave his roguish tricks;
In every action thrusts his noise;
The reason why no mortal knows:
In doleful scenes that break our heart,
Punch comes like you and lets a fart.
There's not a puppet made of wood
But what would hang him if they could ;
While, teazing all, by all he's teazed,
How well are the spectators pleased!
Who in the motion have no share,
But purely come to hear and stare;
Have no concern for Sabra's sake,
Which gets the better, saint or snake,
Provided Punch (for there's the jest)
Be soundly maul'd, and plague the rest.
Thus, Tim, philosophers suppose
The world consists of puppet-shows;
Where petulant conceited fellows
Perform the part of Punchinelloes:
So at this booth which we call Dublin,
Tim, thou'rt the Punch to stir up trouble in:
You wriggle, fidge, and make a rout,
Put all your brother puppets out,
Run on in a perpetual round,
To teaze, perplex, disturb, confound;
Intrude with monkey grin and clatter
To interrupt all serious matter;
Are grown the nuisance of your clan,
Who hate and scorn you to a man:
But then the lookers-on, the Tories,
You still divert with merry stories,
They would consent that all the crew
Were hang'd before they'd part with you.
But tell me, Tim, upon the spot,
By all this toil what hast thou got?
If Tories must have all the sport,
I fear you'll be disgraced at court.
T. Got? D-n my blood! I frank my letters,
Walk to my place before my betters;
And, simple as I now stand here,
Expect in time to be a peer.-
Got? D-n me! why I got my will!
Ne'er hold my peace, and ne'er stand still:
I fart with twenty ladies by;
They call me beast; and what care I?
I bravely call the Tories Jacks
And sons of whores-behind their backs.
But could you bring me once to think
That when I strut, and stare, and stink,
Revile and slander, fume and storm,
Betray, make oath, impeach, inform,
With such a constant loyal zeal
To serve myself and commonweal,
And fret the Tories' soul to death,
I did but lose my precious breath;
And, when I damn my soul to plague em,
Am, as you tell me, but their May-game;
Consume my vitals.! they shall know
I am not to be treated so;
I'd rather hang myself by half
Than give those rascals cause to laugh.
But how, my friend, can I endure,
Once so renown'd, to live obscure ?
No little boys and girls to cry,
"There's nimble Tim a-passing by!"
No more my dear delightful way tread
Of keeping up a party hatred ?
Will none the Tory dogs pursue,
When through the streets I cry halloo?
Must all my d-n me's! bloods and wounds!
Pass only now for empty sounds?
Shall Tory rascals be elected,
Although I swear them disaffected?
And when I roar, "a plot, a plot !"
Will our own party mind ine not?
So qualified to swear and lie,
Will they not trust me for a spy
Dear Mullinix, your good advice
I beg; you see the case is nice:
O were I equal in renown,
Like thee to please this thankless town!
Or bless'd with such engaging parts
To win the truant schoolboys' hearts!
Thy virtues meet their just reward,
Attended by the sable guard.
Charm'd by thy voice, the 'prentice drops
The snowball destined at thy chaps;
Thy graceful steps, and colonel's air,
Allure the cinder-picking fair.
M. No more-in mark of true affection,
I take thee under my protection;
Your parts are good, 'tis not denied;
I wish they had been well applied.
But now observe my counsel, (viz.)
Adapt your habit to your phiz ;
You must no longer thus equip ye,
As Horace says optat ephippia ;
(There's Latin, too, that you may see
How much improved by Dr.
-)
I have a coat at home, that you may try:
'Tis just like this, which hangs by geometry;
My hat has much the nicer air;
Your block will fit it to a hair
;
That wig, I would not for the world
Have it so formal and so curl'd;
'Twill be so oily and so sleek
When I have lain in it a week,
You'll find it well prepared to take
The figure of toupee and snake.
Thus dress'd alike from top to toe,
That which is which 'tis hard to know,
When first in public we appear,
I'll lead the van, you keep the rear:
Be careful, as you walk behind;
Use all the talents of your mind;
Be studious well to imitate
My portly motion, mien, and gait;
Mark my address, and learn my style,
When to look scornful, when to smile;
Nor sputter out your oaths so fast,
But keep your swearing to the last.
Then at our leisure we'll be witty,
And in the streets divert the city;
The ladies from the windows gaping,
The children all our motions aping.
Your conversation to refine,
I'll take you to some friends of mine,
Choice spirits, who employ their parts
To mend the world by useful arts;
Some cleansing hollow tubes, to spy
Direct the zenith of the sky;
Some have the city in their care,
From noxious steams to purge the air;
Some teach us in these dangerous days
How to walk upright in our ways;
Some whose reforming hands engage
To lash the lewdness of the age;
Some for the public service go
Perpetual envoys to and fro:
TIM AND THE FABLES-TOM MULLINIX AND DICK-&c.
723
Whose able heads support the weight
Of twenty ministers of state.
We scorn, for want of talk, to jabber
Of parties o'er our bonnyclabber;
Nor are we studious to inquire,
Who votes for manors, who for hire:
Our care is, to improve the mind
With what concerns all humankind;
The various scenes of mortal life
;
Who beats her husband, who his wife;
Or how the bully at a stroke
Knock'd down the boy, the lantern broke.
One tells the rise of cheese and oatmeal;
Another when he got a hot meal;
One gives advice in proverbs old,
Instructs us how to tame a scold;
One shows how bravely Audouin died,
And at the gallows all denied;
How by the almanac 'tis clear
That herrings will be cheap this year.
T. Dear Mullinix, I now lament
My precious time so long misspent,
By nature meant for nobler ends:
O, introduce me to your friends!
For whom by birth I was design'd,
Till politics debased my mind;
I give myself entire to you;
G-d d-n the Whigs and Tories too!
TIM AND THE FABLES.
My meaning will be best unravell'd
When I premise that Tim has travell'd.
In Lucas's by chance there lay
The Fables writ by Mr. Gay.
Tim set the volume on a table,
Read over here and there a fable:
And found, as he the pages twirl'd,
The Monkey who had seen the World:
(For Tonson had, to help the sale,
Prefix'd a cut to every tale.)
The monkey was completely dress'd,
The beau in all his airs express'd.
Tim, with surprise and pleasure staring,
Ran to the glass, and then comparing
His own sweet figure with the print,
Distinguish'd every feature in't,
The twist, the squeeze, the rump, the fidge in all,
Just as they look'd in the original.
"By," says Tim, and let a f-t,
"This graver understood his art.
'Tis a true copy, I'll say that for't;
I well remember when I sat for't.
My very face, at first I knew it;
Just in this dress the painter drew it."
Tim, with his likeness deeply smitten,
Would read what underneath was written,
The merry tale, with moral grave;
He now began to storm and rave:
"The cursed villain! now I see
This was a libel meant at me:
These scribblers grow so bold of late
Against us ministers of state!
Such Jacobites as he deserve-
D-n me! I say they ought to starve."
TOM MULLINIX AND DICK.
Toм and Dick had equal fame,
And both had equal knowledge;
Tom could write and spell his name,
But Dick had seen the college.
Dick a coxcomb, Tom was mad,
And both alike diverting ;
Tom was held the merrier lad,
But Dick the best at f-g.
Dick would cock his nose in scorn,
But Tom was kind and loving;
Tom a footboy bred and born,
But Dick was from an oven.
Dick could neatly dance a jig,
But Tom was best at borees;
Tom would pray for every Whig,
And Dick curse all the Tories.
Dick would make a woful noise,
And scold at an election;
Tom huzza'd the blackguard boys,
And held them in subjection.
Tom could move with lordly grace,
Dick nimbly skipp'd the gutter ;
Tom could talk with solemn face,
But Dick could better sputter.
Dick was come to high renown
Since he commenced physician ;
Tom was held by all the town
The deeper politician.
Tom had the genteeler swing,
His hat could nicely put on;
Dick knew better how to swing
His cane upon a button.
Dick for repartee was fit,
And Tom for deep discerning;
Dick was thought the brighter wit,
But Tom had better learning.
Dick with zealous noes and ayes
Could roar as loud as Stentor,
In the house 'tis all he says;
But Tom is eloquenter.
DICK, A MAGGOT.
As when, from rooting in a bin,
All powder'd o'er from tail to chin,
A lively maggot sallies out,
You know him by his hazel snout:
So when the grandson of his grandsire
Forth issuing wriggling, Dick Drawcansir,
With powder'd rump and back and side,
You cannot blanch his tawny hide;
For 'tis beyond the power of meal
The gipsy visage to conceal;
For, as he shakes his wainscot chaps,
Down every mealy atom drops,
And leaves the tartar phiz in show,
Like a fresh t―d just dropp'd on snow.
CLAD ALL IN BROWN. TO DICK.
FOULEST brute that stinks below,
Why in this brown dost thou appear?
For would'st thou make a fouler show,
Thou must go naked all the year.
Fresh from the mud a wallowing sow
Would then be not so brown as thou.
'Tis not the coat that looks so dun,
His hide emits a foulness out;
Not one jot better looks the sun
Seen from behind a dirty clout.
So t-ds within a glass enclose,
The glass will seem as brown as those.
Thou now one heap of foulness art,
All outward and within is foul:
Condensed filth in every part,
Thy body's clothed like thy soul
Thy soul, which through thy hide of buff
Scarce glimmers like a dying snuff.
3A 2
724
DICK'S VARIETY-TRAULUS.
Old carted bawds such garments wear,
When pelted all with dirt they shine;
Such their exalted bodies are,
As shrivell'd and as black as thine.
If thou wert in a cart, I fear
Thou would'st be pelted worse than they're.
Yet, when we see thee thus array'd,
The neighbours think it is but just
That thou should'st take an honest trade
And weekly carry out the dust.
Of cleanly houses who will doubt,
When Dick cries "Dust to carry out!"
DICK'S VARIETY.
DULL uniformity in fools
I hate, who gape and sneer by rules;
You, Mullinix, and slobbering C-
Who every day and hour the same are ;
That vulgar talent I despise
Of p-g in the rabble's eyes.
And when I listen to the noise
Of idiots roaring to the boys;
To better judgment still submitting,
I own I see but little wit in:
Such pastimes, when our taste is nice,
Can please at most but once or twice.
But then consider Dick, you'll find
His genius of superior kind;
He never muddles in the dirt,
Nor scours the streets without a shirt
Though Dick, I dare presume to say,
Could do such feats as well as they.
Dick I could venture everywhere,
Let the boys pelt him if they dare;
He'd have them tried at the assizes
For priests and jesuits in disguises;
Swear they were with the Swedes at Bender,
And listing troops for the pretender.
But Dick can f-t, and dance, and frisk,
No other monkey half so brisk ;
Now has the speaker by his ears,
Next moment in the house of peers;
Now scolding at my lady Eustace,
Or thrashing baby in her new stays.
Presto! begone; with t'other hop
He's powdering in a barber's shop;
Now at the antechamber thrusting
His nose, to get the circle just in;
And damns his blood that in the rear
He sees a single Tory there :
Then woe be to my lord-lieutenant,
Again he'll tell him, and again on't.
TRAULUS. PART I.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TOM AND ROBIN.a
1730.
Tом. Say, Robin, what can Traulush mean
By bellowing thus against the dean?
Why does he call him paltry scribbler,
Papist, and Jacobite, and libeller,
Yet cannot prove a single fact?
ROBIN. Forgive him, Tom: his head is crack'd.
T. What mischief can the dean have done him,
That Traulus calls for vengeance on him?
Why must he sputter, sprawl, and slaver it
In vain against the people's favourite ?
Revile that nation-saving paper
Which gave the dean the name of Drapier?
R. Why, Tom, I think the case is plain;
Party and spleen have turn'd his brain.
• Son of the rev. Dr, Charles Lesley.
Lord Allen.
T. Such friendship never man profess'd,
The dean was never so caress'd;
For Traulus long his rancour nursed,
Till, God knows why, at last it burst.
That clumsy outside of a porter,
How could it thus conceal a courtier ?
R. I own appearances are bad;
Yet still insist the man is mad.
T. Yet many a wretch in Bedlam knows
How to distinguish friends from foes;
And though perhaps among the rout
He wildly flings his filth about,
He still has gratitude and sap'ence,
To spare the folks that give him ha’pence;
Nor in their eyes at random p-es,
But turns aside like mad Ulysses;
While Traulus all his ordure scatters
To foul the man he chiefly flatters.
Whence comes these inconsistent fits?
R. Why, Tom, the man has lost his wits.
T. Agreed and yet, when Towzer snaps
At people's heels, with frothy chaps,
Hangs down his head, and drops his tail,
To say he's mad will not avail;
The neighbours all cry " Shoot him dead,
Hang, drown, or knock him on the head.”
So Traulus, when he first harangued,
I wonder why he was not hang'd;
For of the two, without dispute,
Towzer's the less offensive brute.
R. Tom, you mistake the matter quite;
Your barking curs will seldom bite ;
And though you hear him stut-tut-tut-ter,
He barks as fast as he can utter.
He prates in spite of all impediment,
While none believes that what he said he meant;
Puts in his finger and his thumb
To grope for words, and out they come.
He calls you rogue; there's nothing in it,
He fawns upon you in a minute :
"Begs leave to rail, but, d-n his blood!
He only meant it for your good:
His friendship was exactly timed,
He shot before your foes were primed:
By this contrivance, Mr. Dean,
By G-d! I'll bring you off as clean-”
Then let him use you e'er so rough,
"'Twas all for love," and that's enough.
But, though he sputter through a session,
It never makes the least impression :
Whate'er he speaks for madness goes,
With no effect on friends or foes.
T. The scrubbiest cur in all the pack
Can set the mastiff on your back.
I own his madness is a jest,
If that were all. But he's possess'd
Incarnate with a thousand imps,
To work whose ends his madness pimps;
Who o'er each string and wire preside,
Fill every pipe, each motion guide;
Directing every vice we find
;
In Scripture to the devil assign'd;
Sent from the dark infernal region,
In him they lodge, and make him legion.
Of brethren he's a false accuser;
A slanderer, traitor, and seducer;
A fawning, base, trepanning liar
The marks peculiar of his sire.
Or, grant him but a drone at best
A drone can raise a hornet's nest.
The dean had felt their stings before,
And must their malice ne'er give o'er?
Still swarm and buzz about his nose ?
But Ireland's friends ne'er wanted focs
;
TRAULUS-THE LION AND OTHER BEASTS.
725
A patriot is a dangerous post,
When wanted by his country most;
Perversely comes in evil times,
Where virtues are imputed crimes.
His guilt is clear, the proofs are pregnant.;
A traitor to the vices regnant.
What spirit, since the world began,
Could always bear to strive with man?
Which God pronounced he never would,
And soon convinced them by a flood.
Yet still the dean on freedom raves;
His spirit always strives with slaves.
'Tis time at last to spare his ink,
And let them rot, or hang, or sink.
TRAULUS. PART II.
TRAULUS, of amphibious breed,
Motley fruit of mongrel seed;
By the dam from lordlings sprung,
By the sire exhaled from dung:
Think on every vice in both,
Look on him, and see their growth.
View him on the mother's side,
Fill'd with falsehood, spleen, and pride;
Positive and overbearing,
Changing still, and still adhering;
Spiteful, peevish, rude, untoward,
Fierce in tongue, in heart a coward;
Reputation ever tearing,
Ever dearest friendship swearing;
Judgment weak, and passion strong,
Always various, always wrong;
Provocation never waits,
Where he loves, or where he hates;
Talks whate'er comes in his head;
Wishes it were all unsaid.
Let me now the vices trace,
From the father's scoundrel race.
Who could give the looby such airs?
Were they masons, were they butchers?
Herald, lend the Muse an answer
From his atavus and grandsire :
This was dexterous at his trowel,
That was bred to kill a cow well:
Hence the greasy clumsy mien
In his dress and figure seen;
Hence the mean and sordid soul,
Like his body, rank and foul;
Hence that wild suspicious peep,
Like a rogue that steals a sheep;
Hence he learn'd the butcher's guile,
How to cut your throat and smile;
Like a butcher, doom'd for life
In his mouth to wear his knife:
Hence he draws his daily food
From his tenants' vital blood.
Lastly, let his gifts be tried,
Borrow'd from the mason's side:
Some perhaps may think him able
In the state to build a Babel,
Could we place him in a station
To destroy the old foundation.
True indeed I should be gladder
Could he learn to mount a ladder:
May he at his latter end
Mount alive and dead descend!
In him tell me which prevail,
Female vices most, or male?
What produced him, can you tell?
Human race, or imps of hell?
A FABLE OF THE LION AND OTHER
BEASTS.
ONE time a mighty plague did pester
All beasts domestic and sylvester.
The doctors all in concert join'd,
To see if they the cause could find;
And tried a world of remedies,
But none could conquer the disease.
The Lion in this consternation
Sends out his royal proclamation,
To all his loving subjects greeting,
Appointing them a solemn meeting:
And when they're gather'd round his den,
He spoke,-My lords and gentlemen,
I hope you're met full of the sense
Of this devouring pestilence;
For sure such heavy punishment
On common crimes is rarely sent;
It must be some important cause,
Some great infraction of the laws.
Then let us search our consciences,
And every one his faults confess :
Let's judge from biggest to the least,
That he that is the foulest beast
May for a sacrifice be given
To stop the wrath of angry Heaven.
And since no one is free from sin,
I with myself will first begin.
I have done many a thing that's ill
From a propensity to kill,
Slain many an ox, and, what is worse,
Have murder'd many a gallant horse;
Robb'd woods and fens, and, like a glutton,
Devour'd whole flocks of lamb and mutton,
Nay, sometimes, for I dare not lie,
The shepherd went for company.-
He had gone on, but chancellor Fox
Stands up-
-What signifies an ox?
What signifies a horse? Such things
Are honour'd when made sport for kings.
Then for the sheep, those foolish cattle,
Not fit for courage or for battle;
And being tolerable meat,
They're fit for nothing but to eat.
The shepherd too, young enemy,
Deserves no better destiny.
Sir, sir, your conscience is too nice;
Hunting's a princely exercise:
And those, being all your subjects born,
Just when you please are to be torn.
And, if sir, this will not content ye,
We'll vote it NEMINE CONTRADICENTE.
Thus after him they all confess
They had been rogues, some more some less;
And yet by little slight excuses
They all get clear of great abuses.
The Bear, the Tiger, beasts of flight,
And all that could but stratch and bite,
Nay e'en the Cat, of wicked nature,
That kills in sport her fellow-creature,
Went scot-free; but his gravity,
An Ass of stupid memory,
Confess'd, as he went to a fair,
His back half broke with wooden-ware,
Chancing unluckily to pass
By a churchyard full of good grass,
Finding they'd open left the gate,
He ventured in, stoop'd down and eat [ate].
Hold, says judge Wolf, such are the crimes
Have brought upon us these sad times,
'Twas sacrilege, and this vile Ass
Shall die for eating holy grass.
726
ON THE IRISH BISHOPS-HORACE.
ON THE IRISH BISHOPS. 1731.
OLD Latimer preaching did fairly describe
A bishop who ruled all the rest of his tribe;
And who is this bishop? and where does he dwell?
Why truly 'tis Satan, archbishop of hell.
And he was a primate, and he wore a mitre,
Surrounded with jewels of sulphur and nitre.
How nearly this bishop our bishops resembles!
But he has the odds, who believes and who trembles.
Could you see his grim grace, for a pound to a penny,
You'd swear it must be the baboon of Kilkenny a
Poor Satan will think the comparison odious,
I wish I could find him out one more commodious;
But, this I am sure, the most reverend old dragon
Has got on the bench many bishops suffragan;
And all men believe he resides there incog.,
To give them by turns an invisible jog.
Our bishops, puff'd up with wealth and with pride,
To hell on the backs of the clergy would ride.
They mounted and labour'd with whip and with
In vain-for the devil a parson would stir.
So the commons unhorsed them; and this was their
doom,
spur,
On their crosiers to ride like a witch on a broom.
Though they gallop'd so fast, on the road you may
find 'em,
And have left us but three out of twenty behind 'em.
Lord Bolton's good grace, lord Carr, and lord Howard,b
In spite of the devil would still be untoward :
They came of good kindred, and could not endure
Their former companions should beg at their door.
When Christ was betray'd to Pilate the prætor,
Of a dozen apostles but one proved a traitor:
One traitor alone, and faithful eleven;
But we can afford you six traitors in seven.
What a clutter with clippings, dividings, and cleav-
ings!
And the clergy, forsooth, must take up with their leav-
ings;
If making divisions was all their intent,
They've done it, we thank them, but not as they
meant;
And so may such bishops for ever divide,
That no honest heathen would be on their side.
How should we rejoice, if, like Judas the first,
Those splitters of parsons in sunder should burst!
Now hear an allusion :-A mitre, you know,
Is divided above, but united below.
If this you consider our emblem is right;
The bishops divide, but the clergy unite.
Should the bottom be split, our bishops would dread
That the mitre would never stick fast on their head :
And yet they have learn'd the chief art of a sovereign,
As Machiavel taught them, "divide and ye govern."
But courage, my lords, though it cannot be said
That one cloven tongue ever sat on your head;
I'll hold you a groat (and I wish I could see't),
If your stockings were off, you could show cloven feet.
But hold, cry the bishops, and give us fair play;
Before you condemn us, hear what we can say.
What truer affections could ever be shown
Than saving your souls by damning our own?
And have we not practised all methods to gain you;
With the tithe of the tithe of the tithe to maintain you;
Provided a fund for building your spitals?
You are only to live four years without victuals.
Content, my good lords; but let us change hands;
First take you our tithes, and give us your lands.
So God bless the church and three of our mitres;
And God bless the commons, for biting the biters!
"The bishop of Ossory.
Dr. Theophilus Bolton was archbishop of Cashell from 1729
to 1744; Dr. Charlos Carr, bishop of Killaloe from 1716 to
1739; and Dr. Robert Howard, bishop of Elphin from 1729 to
1740.
HORACE, BOOK IV. ODE XIX.
ADDRESSED TO HUMPHRY FRENCH, ESQ., LATE LORD
MAYOR OF DUBLIN.
PATRON of the tuneful throng,
O! too nice and too severe !
Think not that my country song
Shall displease thy honest ear.
Chosen strains I proudly bring,
Which the Muses' sacred choir,
When they gods and heroes sing,
Dictate to th' harmonious lyre.
Ancient Homer, princely bard!
Just precedence still maintains,
With sacred rapture still are heard
Theban Pindar's lofty strains.
Still the old triumphant song,
Which, when hated tyrants fell,
Great Alcæus boldly sung,
Warns, instructs, and pleases well.
Nor has Time's all-darkening shade
In obscure oblivion press'd
What Anacreon laugh'd and play'd;
Gay Anacreon, drunken priest!
Gentle Sappho, love-sick muse,
Warms the heart with amorous fire;
Still her tenderest notes infuse
Melting rapture, soft desire.
Beauteous Helen, young and gay,
By a painted fopling won,
Went not first, fair nymph, astray,
Fondly pleased to be undone.
Nor young Teucer's slaughtering bow,
Nor bold Hector's dreadful sword,
Alone the terrors of the foe,
Sow'd the field with hostile blood.
Many valiant chiefs of old
Greatly lived and died before
Agamemnon, Grecian bold,
Waged the ten years' famous war.
But their names, unsung, unwept,
Unrecorded, lost and gone,
Long in endless night have slept,
And shall now no more be known.
Virtue, which the poet's care
Has not well consign'd to fame,
Lies, as in the sepulchre
Some old king, without a name.
But, O Humphry, great and free,
While my tuneful songs are read,
Old forgetful Time on thee
Dark oblivion ne'er shall spread.
When the deep-cut notes shall fade
On the mouldering Parian stone,
On the brass no more be read
The perishing inscription;
Forgotten all the enemies,
Envious G n's cursed spite,
And P. --I's derogating lies,
Lost and sunk in Stygian night;
Still thy labour and thy care,
What for Dublin thou hast done,
In full lustre shall appear,
And outshine th' unclouded sun.
Large thy mind, and not untried,
For Hibernia now doth stand,
Through the calm, or raging tide,
Safe conducts the ship to land.
ON MR. PULTENEY'S BEING PUT OUT OF THE COUNCIL.
727
Falsely we call the rich man great
He is only so that knows
His plentiful or small estate
Wisely to enjoy and use.
He in wealth or poverty
Fortune's power alike defies;
And falsehood and dishonesty
More than death abhors and flies:
Flies from death!-no, meets it brave,
When the suffering so severe
May from dreadful bondage save
Clients, friends, or country dear.
This the sovereign man, complete ;
Hero; patriot; glorious; free;
Rich and wise; and good and great;
Generous Humphry, thou art he.
ON MR. PULTENEY'S a BEING PUT OUT
OF THE COUNCIL.
1731.
;
SIR ROBERT, wearied by Will Pulteney's teasings,
Who interrupted him in all his leasings,
Resolved that Will and he should meet no more,
Full in his face Bob shuts the council door
Nor lets him sit as justice on the bench,
To punish thieves or lash a suburb wench.
Yet still St. Stephen's chapel open lies
For Will to enter-What shall I advise?
Ev'n quit the house, for thou too long hast sat in't
Produce at last thy dormant ducal patent;
There near thy master's throne in shelter placed,
Let Will, unheard by thee, his thunder waste;
Yet still I fear your work is done but half,
For while he keeps his pen you are not safe.
Hear an old fable, and a dull one too;
It bears a moral when applied to you.
A hare had long escaped pursuing hounds,
By often shifting into distant grounds;
Till, finding all his artifices vain,
To save his life he leap'd into the main.
But there, alas! he could no safety find,
A pack of dogfish had him in the wind.
He scours away; and, to avoid the foe,
Descends for shelter to the shades below:
There Cerberus lay watching in his den
He had not seen a hare the Lord knows when):
Out bounced the mastiff of the triple head;
Away the hare with double swiftness fled;
Hunted from earth, and sea, and hell, he flies
(Fear lent him wings) for safety to the skies.
How was the fearful animal distress'd!
Behold a foe mere fierce than all the rest;
Sirius, the swiftest of the heavenly pack,
Fail'd but an inch to seize him by the back.
He fled to earth, but first it cost him dear;
He left his scut behind, and half an ear.
Thus was the hare pursued, though free from
guilt:
Thus, Bob, shalt thou be maul'd, fly where thou.
wilt.
Then, honest Robin, of thy corpse beware;
Thou art not half so nimble as a hare :
Too ponderous is thy bulk to mount the sky;
Nor can you go to hell before you die.
So keen thy hunters, and thy scent so strong,
Thy turns and doublings cannot save thee long.c
ก
Right honourable William Pulteney, esq., since earl of
Bath.
Sir Robert Walpole, premier, who resigned, Dec. 4, 1741,
and on the 19th of Feb., 1742, created earl of Orford.
This hunting ended in the promotion of Will and Bob,
Bob was no longer first minister, but earl of Orford; and Will
was no longer his opponent, but earl of Bath.
ON THE WORDS
BROTHER PROTESTANTS AND FELLOW
CHRISTIANS,
SO FAMILIARLY USED BY THE ADVOCATES FOR THE
1733.
REPEAL OF THE TEST-ACT IN IRELAND.
AN inundation, says the fable,
O'erflow'd a farmer's barn and stable;
Whole ricks of hay and stacks of corn
Were down the sudden current borne;
While things of heterogeneous kind
Together float with tide and wind.
The generous wheat forgot its pride,
And sail'd with litter side by side;
Uniting all, to show their amity,
As in a general calamity.
A ball of new-dropp'd horse's dung,
Mingling with apples in the throng,
Said to the pippin plump and prim,
"See, brother, how we apples swim.'
Thus Lamb, renown'd for cutting corns,
An offer'd fee from Radcliff scorns,
"Not for the world-we doctors, brother,
Must take no fees of one another.'
Thus to a dean some curate sloven
Subscribes, "Dear sir, your brother loving."
Thus all the footmen, shoeboys, porters,
About St. James's, cry, "We courtiers."
Thus Horace in the house will prate,
"Sir, we, the ministers of state."
Thus at the bar the boobya Bettesworth,
Though half a crown o'erpays his sweat's worth,
Who knows in law nor text nor margent,
Calls Singleton his brother sergeant.
And thus fanatic saints, though neither in
Doctrine nor discipline our brethren,
Are brother protestants and christians,
As much as Hebrews and Philistines :
But in no other sense than nature
Has made a rat our fellow-creature.
Lice from your body suck their food;
But is a louse your flesh and blood?
Though born of human filth and sweat, it
As well may say man did beget it.
And maggots in your nose and chin
As well may claim you for their kin.
Yet critics may object, why not?
Since lice are brethren to a Scot:
Which made our swarm of sects determine
Employments for their brother vermin.
But be they English, Irish, Scottish,
What protestant can be so sottish,
While o'er the church these clouds are gathering,
To call a swarm of lice his brethren?
As Moses, by divine advice,
In Egypt turn'd the dust to lice;
And as our sects, by all descriptions,
Have hearts more harden'd than Egyptians :
As from the trodden dust they spring,
And, turn'd to lice, infest the king:
For pity's sake, it would be just,
A rod should turn them back to dust.
Let folks in high or holy stations
Be proud of owning such relations;
Let courtiers hug them in their bosom,
As if they were afraid to lose 'em :
While I, with humble Job, had rather
Say to corruption-" Thou 'rt my father."
For he that has so little wit
To nourish vermin, may be bit.
• This word ocensioned Bettesworth s attack upon the denu.
b Afterwards lord chief-justice of the common pleas.
728
BETTESWORTH'S EXULTATION-THE YAHOO'S OVERTHROW.
BETTESWORTH'S EXULTATION
UPON HEARING THAT HIS NAME WOULD BE TRANSMIT-
TED TO POSTERITY IN DR. SWIFT'S WORKS.
WELL! now, since the heat of my passion's abated,
That the dean hath lampoon'd me, my mind is elated:
Lampoon'd did I call it ?-No-what was it then?
What was it?-'Twas fame to be lash'd by his pen :
For had he not pointed me out, I had slept till
E'en doomsday, a poor insignificant reptile ;
Half lawyer, half actor, pert, dull, and inglorious,
Obscure, and unheard of-but now I'm notorious:
Fame has but two gates, a white and a black one;
The worst they can say is, I got in at the back one ;
If the end be obtain'd 'tis equal what portal
I enter, since I'm to be render'd immortal :
So clysters applied to the anus, 'tis said,
By skilful physicians, give case to the head-
Though my title be spurious, why should I be dastard?
A man is a man, though he should be a bastard.
Why sure 'tis some comfort that heroes should slay
If I fall, I would fall by the hand of Æneas;
And who by the Drapier would not rather damn'd be,
Than demigoddised by madrigal Namby ?a
[us,
A man is no more who has once lost his breath;
But poets convince us there's life after death.
They call from their graves the king or the peasant,
Re-act our old deeds, and make what's past present;
And when they would study to set forth alike,
So the lines be well drawn, and the colours but strike,
Whatever the subject be, coward or hero,
A tyrant, a patriot, a Titus, or Nero;
To a judge 'tis all one which he fixes his eye on,
And a well-painted monkey's as good as a lion.
The scriptures affirm (as I heard in my youth,
For indeed I ne'er read them, to speak for once truth)
That death is the wages of sin, but the just
Shall die not, although they be laid in the dust.
They say so; so be it, I care not a straw,
Although I be dead both in gospel and law,
In verse I shall live, and be read in each climate;
What more can be said of prime sergeant or primate?
While Carter and Prendergast both may be rotten,
And damn'd to the bargain, and yet be forgotten.
THE YAHOO'S OVERTHROW; OR, THE
KEVAN BAYL'S NEW BALLAD.
UPON SERGEANT KITE'S INSULTING the dean.
To the tune of "Derry Down."
GRUB-STREET JOURNAL, No. 189, August 9, 1734.—“In Decem-
ber last Mr. Bettesworth, serjeant-at-law and M.P., swore,
before many hundreds of people, that upon the first opportu-
nity he would murder or maim the dean of St. Patrick's.
Upon which the principal inhabitants of that liberty signed a
paper to this effect: That, out of their great love and respect
to the dean, to whom the whole kingdom hath so many obliga-
tions, they would endeavour to defend the life and limbs of the
said dean against a certain man and all his ruffians and mur-
derers.'
C
JOLLY boys of St. Kevan's, St. Patrick's, Donore,
And Smithfield, I'll tell you, if not told before,
How Bettesworth, that booby, and scoundrel in grain,
Has insulted us all by insulting the dean.
Knock him down, down, down, knock him down.
The dean and his merits we every one know,
But this skip of a lawyer, where the de'il did he grow?
How greater his merit at Four Courts or House,
Than the barking of Towzer or leap of a louse !
Knock him down.
That he came from the Temple, his morals do show;
But where his deep law is, few mortals yet know:
Ambrose Philips.
His rhetoric, bombast, silly jest, are by far
More like to lampooning, than pleading at bar.
Knock him down.
This pedlar, at speaking and making of laws,
Has met with returns of all sorts but applause ;
Has, with noise and odd gestures, been prating some
years
What honester folks never durst for their ears.
Knock him down.
Of all sizes and sorts, the fanatical crew
Are his brother protestants, good men and true;
Red hat, and blue bonnet, and turban's the same,
What the de'il is't to him whence the devil they came.
Knock him down.
Hobbes, Tindal, and Woolston, and Collins, and
Nayler,
And Muggleton, Toland, and Bradley the tailor,
Are christians alike; and it may be averr'd,
He's a christian as good as the rest of the herd.
Knock him down.
He only the rights of the clergy debates; [rates
Their rights! their importance! We'll set on new
On their tithes at half-nothing, their priesthood at
less;
What's next to be voted with ease you may guess.
Knock him down.
At length his old master (I need not him name)
To this damnable speaker had long owed a shame;
When his speech came abroad he paid him off clean,
By leaving him under the pen of the dean.
Knock him down.
| He kindled, as if the whole satire had been
The oppression of virtue, not wages of sin :
He began, as he bragg'd, with a rant and a roar;
He bragg'd how he bounced, and he swore how he
Knock him down.
swore.
Though he cringed to his deanship in very low strains,
To others he boasted of knocking out brains,
And slitting of noses, and cropping of ears,
While his own ass's zags were more fit for the shears.
Knock him down.
On this worrier of deans, whene'er we can hit,
We'll show him the way how to crop and to slit;
We'll teach him some better address to afford
To the dean of all deans, though he wears not a sword.
Knock him down.
We'll colt him through Kevan, St. Patrick's, Donore,
And Smithfield, as rap was 'ne'er colted before;
We'll oil him with kennel, and powder him with
A modus right fit for insulters of deans.
[grains,
Knock him down.
And when this is over we'll make him amends,
To the dean he shall go; they shall kiss and be
friends :
But how? Why, the dean shall to him disclose
A face for to kiss, without eyes, ears, or nose.
Knock him down.
If you say this is hard on a man that is reckon’d
That serjeant-at-law whom we call Kite the Second,
You mistake; for a slave who will coax his superiors
May be proud to be licking a great man's posteriors.
Knock him down.
What care we how high runs his passion or pride?
Though his soul he despises, he values his hide;
Then fear not his tongue, or his sword, or his knife;
He'll take his revenge on his innocent wife.
Knock him down, down, down, keep him down.
THE IRISH CLUB-ON DR. RUNDLE-&c.
729
ON THE ARCHBISHOP OF CASHEL [DR.
BOLTON], AND BETTESWORTH.
DEAR Dick, pr'ythee tell by what passion you move:
The world is in doubt whether hatred or love;
And while at good Cashel you rail with such spite,
They shrewdly suspect it is all but a bite.
You certainly know, though so loudly you vapour,
His spite cannot wound who attempted the drapier.
Then, pr'ythee, reflect, take a word of advice,
And, as your old wont is, change sides in a trice:
On his virtues hold forth; 'tis the very best way;
And say of the men what all honest men say.
But if, still obdurate, your anger remains,
If still your foul bosom more rancour contains,
Say then more than they, nay, lavishly flatter;
'Tis your gross panegyrics alone can bespatter;
For thine, my dear Dick, give me leave to speak plain,
Like very foul mops, dirty more than they clean.
ON THE IRISH CLUB. 1733.
YE paltry underlings of state,
Ye senators who love to prate ;
Ye rascals of inferior note,
Who for a dinner sell a vote
;
Ye pack of pensionary peers,
Whose fingers itch for poets' ears;
Ye bishops, far removed from saints,
Why all this rage? Why these complaints?
Why against printers all this noise?
This summoning of blackguard boys?
Why so sagacious in your guesses?
Your effs, and tees, and arrs, and esses!
Take my advice; to make you safe,
I know a shorter way by half.
The point is plain; remove the cause;
Defend your liberties and laws.
Be sometimes to your country true,
Have once the public good in view:
Bravely despise champagne at court,
And choose to dine at home with port:
Let prelates by their good behaviour
Convince us they believe a Saviour;
Nor sell what they so dearly bought,
This country, now their own, for nought.
Ne'er did a true satiric muse
Virtue or innocence abuse;
And 'tis against poetic rules
To rail at men by nature fools:
But
*
*
ON NOISY TOM.
HORACE, PART OF BOOK I. SAT. IV., PARAPHRASED.
1733.
Ir Noisy Tom a should in the senate prate,
"That he would answer both for church and state;
And, further, to demonstrate his affection,
Would take the kingdom into his protection ;"
All mortals must be curious to inquire
Who could this coxcomb be, and who his sire?
"What! thou, the spawn of himb who shamed our
Traitor, assassin, and informer vile!
[isle,
Though, by the female side,c you proudly bring,
To mend your breed, the murderer of a king:
What was thy grandsire,d but a mountaineer,
Who held a cabin for ten groats a-year :
Sir Thomas Prendergast.
The father of sir Thomas Prendergast, who engaged in a
plot to murder king William III.; but, to avoid boing hanged,
turned informer against his associates, for which he was re-
warded with a good estato, and made a baronet.
Cadogan's family.
A poor cottager condemned at Clonmell assizes to be hanged
for stealing cows.
Whose master Moore a preserved him from the halter,
For stealing cows! nor could he read the Psalter!
Durst thou, ungrateful, from the senate chase
Thy founder's grandson," and usurp his place?
Just Heaven! to see the dunghill bastard brood
Survive in thee, and make the proverb good ?c
Then vote a worthy citizend to jail,
In spite of justice, and refuse his bail !"
•
ON DR. RUNDLE, BISHOP OF DERRY.
1734-5.
MAKE Rundle bishop! fie for shame!
An Arian to usurp the name!
A bishop in the isle of saints!
How will his brethren make complaints!
Dare any of the mitred host
Confer on him the Holy Ghost,
In mother church to breed a variance,
By coupling orthodox with Arians?
Yet, were he heathen, Turk, or Jew,
What is there in it strange or new?
For, let us hear the weak pretence
His brethren find to take offence;
Of whom there are but four at most
Who know there is a Holy Ghost;
The rest, who boast they have conferr'd it,
Like Paul's Ephesians, never heard it;
And, when they gave it, well 'tis known,
They gave what never was their own.
Rundle a bishop! well he may;
He's still a christian more than they.
We know the subject of their quarrels ;
The man has learning, sense, and morals.
There is a reason still more weighty;
'Tis granted he believes a Deity;
Has every circumstance to please us,
Though fools may doubt his faith in Jesus.
But why should he with that be loaded,
Now twenty years from court exploded?
And is not this objection odd
From rogues who ne'er believed a God?
For liberty a champion stout,
Though not so gospel-ward devout.
While others, hither sent to save us,
Come but to plunder and enslave us;
Nor ever own'd a power divine,
But Mammon and the German line.
Say, how did Rundle undermine 'em?
Who show'd a better jus divinum?
From ancient canons would not vary,
But thrice refused episcopari.
Our bishop's predecessor, Magus,
Would offer all the sands of Tagus,
Or sell his children, house, and lands,
For that one gift, to lay on hands:
But all his gold could not avail
To have the spirit set to sale.
Said surly Peter," Magus, prithee,
Be gone thy money perish with thee."
Were Peter now alive, perhaps,
He might have found a score of chaps,
Could he but make his gift appear
In rents three thousand pounds a-year.
The grandfather of Guy Moore, esq., who procured him a
pardon.
b Guy Moore was elected member of parliament for Clon-
mell; but sir Thomas, depending upon his interest with a cer
tain party then prevailing, and since known by the title of
parson-hunters, petitioned the house against him.
0
"Save a thief from the gallows, and he will cut your
throut."
d Mr. George Faulkner. Mr. sergeant Bettesworth, a mem-
ber of the Irish parliament, having made a complaint to the
house of commons against the "Satire on Quadrille," they
voted Faulkner the printer into custody.
730
THE LEGION CLUB.
Some fancy this promotion odd,
As not the handiwork of God ;
Though e'en the bishops disappointed
Must own it made by God's anointed,
And well we know the congé regal
Is more secure as well as legal;
Because our lawyers all agree,
That bishoprics are held in fee.
Dear Baldwin chaste, and witty Crosse,
How sorely I lament your loss!
That such a pair of wealthy ninnies
Should slip your time of dropping guineas;
For, had you made the king your debtor,
Your title had been so much better.
EPIGRAM.
FRIEND Rundle fell, with grievous bump,
Upon his reverential rump.
Poor rump! thou hadst been better sped,
Hadst thou been join'd to Boulter's head;
A head so weighty and profound
Would needs have kept thee from the ground.
A CHARACTER, PANEGYRIC, AND DESCRIPTION OF
THE LEGION CLUB. 1736.
"
WHILST Swift was writing these satires on the Irish parliament
he was seized with one of those fits, the effect of which was so
dreadful that he left the poem unfinished; and after that
period very rarely attempted a composition, either in verse or
prose, that required a course of thinking, or perhaps more than
one or two sittings to finish. One of these was The Beasts'
Confession." From this time his memory was perceived gra-
dually to decline; and his melancholy increased by the strength
of his imagination brooding over the unhappy scene of misery
which he foresaw was his lot, when he must become, as he said,
a perfect slabberer. He was often heard to offer up his prayers
to Almighty God, “ to take him away from this evil to come.
The prospect of this calamity, which he was daily lamenting,
contributed very much, as his passions were violent, to pervert
his understanding, to which many other particulars seem also
to have concurred.
As I stroll the city, oft I
See a building large and lofty,
Not a bow-shot from the college;
Half the globe from sense and knowledge:
By the prudent architect
Placed against the church direct,
Making good my grandam's jest,
"Near the church "—you know the rest.
Tell us what the pile contains?
Many a head that holds no brains.
These demoniacs let me dub
With the name of Legion Club.
Such assemblies you might swear
Meet when butchers bait a bear :
Such a noise, and such haranguing,
When a brother thief is hanging :
Such a rout and such a rabble
Run to hear Jackpudding gabble :
Such a crowd their ordure throws
On a far less villain's nose.
Could I from the building's top
Hear the rattling thunder drop,
While the devil upon the roof
(If the devil be thunder-proof)
Should with poker fiery red
Crack the stones and melt the lead;
Drive them down on every skull,
When the den of thieves is full
Quite destroy that harpies' nest;
How might then our isle be blest!
For divines allow that God
Sometimes makes the devil his rod!
And the gospel will inform us
He can punish sins enormous.
;
""
Yet should Swift endow the schools
For his lunatics and fools
With a rood or two of land,
I allow the pile may stand.
You perhaps will ask me, Why so?
But it is with this proviso:
Since the house is like to last,
Let the royal grant be pass'd
That the club have right to dwell
Each within his proper cell,
With a passage left to creep in,
And a hole above for peeping.
Let them, when they once get in,
Sell the nation for a pin;
While they sit a-picking straws,
Let them rave at making laws;
While they never hold their tongue,
Let them dabble in their dung:
Let them form a grand committee,
How to plague and starve the city;
Let them stare, and storm, and frown,
When they see a clergy gown;
Let them, ere they crack a louse,
Call for th' orders of the house;
Let them, with their gosling-quills,
Scribble senseless heads of bills;
We may, while they strain their throats,
Wipe our as with their votes.
Let sir Tom,a that rampant ass,
Stuff his guts with flax and grass;
But before the priest he fleeces,
Tear the Bible all to pieces:
At the parsons, Tom, halloo, boy,
Worthy offspring of a shoeboy,
Footman, traitor, vile seducer,
Perjured rebel, bribed accuser,
Lay thy paltry privilege aside,
Sprung from papists, and a regicide;
Fall a-working like a mole,
Raise the dirt about your hole.
Come, assist me, Muse obedient;
Let us try some new expedient;
Shift the scene for half an hour,
Time and place are in thy power.
Thither, gentle Muse, conduct me;
I shall ask, and you instruct me.
Sec, the Muse unbars the gate;
Hark, the monkeys, how they prate!
All ye gods who rule the soul:
Styx, through hell whose waters roll!
Let me be allow'd to tell
What I heard in yonder hell.
Near the door an entrance gapes,
Crowded round with antic shapes,
Poverty, and Grief, and Care,
Causeless Joy, and true Despair ;
Discord periwigg'd with snakes,
See the dreadful strides she takes!
By this odious crew beset,
I began to rage and fret,
And resolved to break their pates,
Ere we enter'd at the gates;
Had not Clio in the nick
Whisper'd me, "Lay down your stick."
What! said I, is this the mad-house?
These, she answer'd, are but shadows,
Phantoms bodiless and vain,
Empty visions of the brain.
In the porch Briareus stands,
Shows a bribe in all his hands;
Briareus the secretary,
But we mortals call him Carey.
"Sir Thomas Prendergast.
THE LEGION CLUB.
731
When the rogues their country fleece,
They may hope for pence a-piece.
Clio, who had been so wise
To put on a fool's disguise,
To bespeak some approbation,
And be thought a near relation,
When she saw three hundred brutes
All involved in wild disputes,
Roaring till their lungs were spent,
PRIVILEGE OF PARLIAMENT,
Now a new misfortune feels,
Dreading to be laid by th' heels.
Never durst a Muse before
Enter that infernal door;
Clio, stifled with the smell,
Into spleen and vapours fell,
By the Stygian streams that flew
From the dire infectious crew.
Not the stench of lake Avernus
Could have more offended her nose;
Had she flown but o'er the top,
She had felt her pinions drop,
And by exhalations dire,
Though a goddess, must expire.
In a fright she crept away,
Bravely I resolved to stay.
When I saw the keeper frown,
Tipping him with half-a-crown,
Now, said I, we are alone,
Name your heroes one by one,
Who is that hell-featured brawler?
Is it Satan? No; 'tis Waller.
In what figure can a bard dress
Jack the grandson of sir Hardress?
Honest keeper, drive him further,
In his looks are hell and murther;
See the scowling visage drop,
Just as when he murder'd Throp.
Keeper, show me where to fix
On the puppy pair of Dicks:
By their lantern jaws and leathern,
You might swear they both are brethren :
Dick Fitzbaker, Dick the player,
Old acquaintance, are you there?
Dear companions, hug and kiss,
Toast Old Glorious in your p-s;
Tie them, keeper, in a tether,
Let them starve and sink together;
Both are apt to be unruly,
Lash them daily, lash them duly ;
Though 'tis hopeless to reclaim them,
Scorpion rods, perhaps, may tame them.
Keeper, yon old dotard smoke,
Sweetly snoring in his cloak :
Who is he? 'Tis humdrum Wynne,
Half encompass'd by his kin :
There observe the tribe of Bingham,
For he never fails to bring 'em ;
While he sleeps the whole debate,
They submissive round him wait;
Yet would gladly see the hunks
In his grave, and search his trunks:
See, they gently twitch his coat,
Just to yawn and give his vote,
Always firm in his vocation,
For the court against the nation.
Those are Allens Jack and Bob,
First in every wicked job,
Son and brother to a queer
Brain-sick brute, they call a peer
We must give them better quarter,
For their ancestor trod mortar,
And at Hoath, to boast his fame,
On a chimney cut his name.
There sit Clements, Dilks, and Harrison;
How they swagger from their garrison!
Such a triplet could you tell
Where to find on this side hell?
Harrison, and Dilks, and Clements,
Keeper, see they have their payments,
Every mischief's in their hearts;
If they fail, 'tis want of parts.
Bless us! Morgan, art thou there, man
Bless mine eyes! art thou the chairman ?
Chairman to yon damn'd committee!
Yet I look on thee with pity.
Dreadful sight! what learned Morgan
Metamorphosed to a Gorgon?
For thy horrid looks I own
Half convert me to a stone.
Hast thou been so long at school,
Now to turn a factious tool?
Alma Mater was thy mother,
Every young divine thy brother.
Thou, a disobedient varlet,
Treat thy mother like a harlot !
Thou ungrateful to thy teachers,
Who are all grown reverend preachers?
Morgan, would it not surprise one?
Turn thy nourishment to poison!
When you walk among your books,
They reproach you with their looks;
Bind them fast, or from their shelves
They will come and right themselves:
Homer, Plutarch, Virgil, Flaccus,
All in arms, prepare to back us:
Soon repent, or put to slaughter
Every Greek and Roman author.
Will you, in your faction's phrase,
Send the clergy all to graze?
And to make your project pass,
Leave them not a blade of grass?
How I want thee, humorous Hogarth!
Thou, I hear, a pleasant rogue art.
Were but you and I acquainted,
Every monster should be painted:
You should try your graving tools
On this odious group of fools;
Draw the beasts as I describe them:
Form their features while I gibe them;
Draw them like; for I assure you,
You will need no car'catura;
Draw them so that we may trace
All the soul in every face.
Keeper, I must now retire,
You have done what I desire:
But I feel my spirits spent
With the noise, the sight, the scent.
Pray, be patient; you shall find
Half the best are still behind!
You have hardly seen a score;
I can show two hundred more."
Keeper, I have seen enough.
Taking then a pinch of snuff,
I concluded, looking round them,
"May their god, the devil, confound them!"
ON A PRINTER'S BEING SENT TO
NEWGATE.
BETTER We all were in our graves,
Than live in slavery to slaves ;
Worse than the anarchy at sea,
Where fishes on each other prey;
Where every trout can make as high rants
O'er his inferiors as our tyrants;
"Mr. Faulkner, for printing "A Proposal for the better Rø
gulation of Quadrillo "
732
A FRIENDLY APOLOGY-&c.
!
And swagger while the coast is clear:
But should a lordly pike appear,
Away you see the varlet scud,
Or hide his coward snout in mud.
Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach,
He dares not venture to approach;
Qet still has impudence to rise,
And, like Domitian, leap at flies.
A VINDICATION OF THE LIBEL:
OR, A NEW ballad,
Written by a shoeboy, on an attorney who was formerly a
«
shoeboy.
Qui color ater erat, nunc est contrarius atro."
WITH Singing of ballads and crying of news,
With whitening of buckles and blacking of shoes,
Did Hartleya set out, both shoeless and shirtless,
And moneyless too, but not very dirtless;
Two pence he had gotten by begging, that's all;
One bought him a brush, and one a black ball;
For clouts at a loss he could not be much,
The clothes on his back as being but such
Thus vamp'd and accoutred, with clouts, ball, and
He gallantly ventured his fortune to push; [brush,
Vespasian thus, being bespatter'd with dirt,
Was omen'd to be Rome's emperor for't.
But as a wise fiddler is noted, you know,
To have a good couple of strings to one bow;
So Hartley judiciously thought it too little
[news!"
To live by the sweat of his hands and his spittle :
He finds out another profession as fit,
And straight he becomes a retailer of wit.
One day he cried-"Murders, and songs, and great
Another as loudly-"Here blacken your shoes!"
At Domvile's full often he fed upon bits,
For winding of jacks up and turning of spits;
Lick'd all the plates round, had many a grubbing,
And now and then got from the cook-maid a drubbing.
Such bastings effect upon him could have none :
The dog will be patient that's struck with a bone.
Sir Thomas, observing this Hartley withal
So expert and so active at brushes and ball,
Was moved with compassion, and thought it a pity
A youth should be lost that had been so witty:
Without more ado he vamps up my spark,
And now we'll suppose him an eminent clerk!
Suppose him an adept in all the degrees
Of scribbling cum dasho, and hooking of fees;
Suppose him a miser, attorney per bill,
Suppose him a courtier-suppose what you will-
Yet, would you believe, though I swore by the bible,
That he took up two news-boys for crying the libel ?
?c
A FRIENDLY APOLOGY FOR A CERTAIN
JUSTICE OF PEACE.
BY WAY OF Defence of hARTLEY HUTCHINSON, ESQ.
BY JAMES Blackwell, operator FOR THE FEET.
"But he, by bawling news about,
And aptly using brush and clout,
A justice of the peace became,
To punish rogues who do the same."
I SING the man of courage tried,
O'errun with ignorance and pride,
Who boldly hunted out disgrace
With canker'd mind and hideous face;
The first who made (let none deny it)
The libel-vending rogues be quiet.
The fact was glorious, we must own,
For Hartley was before unknown,-
See the next poem.
b Sir T. Domvile, patentee of the IIanaper office.
• The Proposal for Regulation of Quadrille.
"(
Contemn'd I mean;-for who would choose
So vile a subject for the Muse?
'Twas once the noblest of his wishes
To fill his paunch with scraps from dishes,
For which he'd parch before the grate,
Or wind the jack's slow-rising weight,
(Such toils as best his talents fit,)
Or polish shoes, or turn the spit;
But unexpectedly grown rich in
Squire Domvile's family and kitchen,
He pants to eternise his name,
And takes the dirty road to fame;
Believes that persecuting wit
Will prove the surest way to it;
So with a colonela at his back,
The libel feels his first attack;
He calls it a seditious paper,
Writ by another patriot drapier;
Then raves and blunders nonsense thicker
Than alderman o'ercharged with liquor;
And all this with design, no doubt,
To hear his praises hawk'd about;
To send his name through every street,
Which erst he roam'd with dirty feet;
Well pleased to live in future times,
Though but in keen satiric rhymes.
So Ajax, who, for aught we know,
Was justice many years ago,
And minding then no earthly things,
But killing libellers of kings;
Or, if he wanted work to do,
To run a bawling news-boy through;
Yet he, when wrapp'd up in a cloud,
Entreated father Jove aloud,
Only in light to show his face,
Though it might tend to his disgrace.
And so the Ephesian villain fired
The temple which the world admired,
Contemning death, despising shame,
To gain an ever-odious name.
AY AND NO. A TALE FROM DUBLIN.
Written in 1737.
AT Dublin's high feast sat primate and dean,
Both dress'd like divines, with band and face clean :
Quoth Hugh of Armagh, "The mob is grown bold.'
Ay, ay," quoth the dean, "the cause is old gold.”
"No, no," quoth the primate, "if causes we sift,
This mischief arises from witty dean Swift."
The smart one replied, "There's no wit in the case;
And nothing of that ever troubled your grace. [split,
Though with your state sieve your own notions you
A Boulter by name is no bolter of wit.
It's matter of weight, and a mere money job;
But the lower the coin the higher the mob.
Go tell your friend Bob and the other great folk
That sinking the coin is a dangerous joke.
The Irish dear joys have enough common sense
To treat gold reduced like Wood's copper pence.
It is pity a prelate should die without law;
But if I say the word-take care of Armagh !"
A WICKED TREASONABLE LIBEL.
"A TRAITEROus libel written several years ago. It is inconsist-
ent with itself. I wish I knew the author, that I might hang
him."
At the bottom of the paper is subjoined this postscript.
"I copied out this wicked paper many years ago, in hopes to
discover the traitor of an author, that I might inform against
him."
WHILE the king and his ministers keep such a pother,
And all about changing one whore for another,
" Colonel Ker, a Scotchman, lieutenant-colonel to lord Har-
rington's regiment of dragoons.
EPIGRAMS AGAINST CARTHY.
733
Think I to myself, what need all this strife,
His majesty first had a whore of a wife,
And surely the difference mounts to no more
Than now he has gotten a wife of a whore.
Now give me your judgment a very nice case on;
Each queen has a son, say which is the base one?
Say which of the two is the right prince of Wales,
To succeed when (God bless him!) his majesty fails;
Perhaps it may puzzle our loyal divines
To unite these two protestant parallel lines,
From a left-handed wife, and one turn'd out of doors,
Two reputed king's sons, both true sons of whores;
No law can determine it, which is first oars. [ter'd;
But alas! poor old England, how wilt thou be mas-
For take which you please, it must needs be a bastard.
EPIGRAMS AGAINST CARTHY,
BY SWIFT AND OTHERS.
THE following epigrams were selected by Dr. Barrett from two
scarce pamphlets in the Trinity college library. One is en-
titled,
"Mezentius, 1734." (Marked R. R. 19. 60.) The other
"Florilegium Carthianum," in the same year. They are pro-
bably the productions of Swift, Dunkin, Sicau, &c.
ON CARTHY'S TRANSLATION OF Horace,
Containing on one side the original Latin, on the other his
own version.
THIS I may boast, which few e'er could,
Half of my book at least is good.
ON CARTHY MINOTAURUS.
How monstrous Carthy looks with Flaccus braced!
For here we see the man and there the beast.
ON THE SAME.
Once Horace fancied from a man,
He was transformed to a swan;
But Carthy, as from him thou learnest,
Has made the man a goose in earnest.
ON THE SAME.
Talis erat quondam Tithoni splendida conjux,
Effulsit misero sic Dea juncta viro;
Hunc tandem imminuit sensim longæva senectus,
Te vero extinxit, Carole, prima dies.
IMITATED.
So blush'd Aurora with celestial charms,
So bloom'd the goddess in a mortal's arms
He sunk at length to wasting age a prey,
But thy book perish'd on its natal day.
AD HORATIUM CUM CARTHIO CONSTRICTUM.
Lectores ridere jubes dum Carthius astat?
Iste procul depellit olens tibi Mævius omnes:
Sic triviis veneranda diu, Jovis inclyta proles
Terruit, assumpto, mortales, Gorgonis ore.
IMITATED.
Could Horace give so sad a monster birth?
Why then in vain he would excite our mirth;
His humour well our laughter might command,
But who can bear the death's head in his hand?
AN IRISH EPIGRAM ON THE SAME.
While with the fustian of thy book
The witty ancient you enrobe,
You make the graceful Horace look
As pitiful as Tom M'Lobe.
Ye Muses, guard your sacred mount,
And Helicon, for if this log
Should stumble once into the fount,
He'll make it muddy as a bog.
ON CARTHY'S TRANSLATION OF LONGINUS.
High as Longinus to the stars ascends,
So deeply Carthy to the centre tends.
RATIO INTER LONGINUM ET CARTHIUM COMPUTATA.
thereas quantum Longinus surgit in auras,
Carthius en tantum ad Tartara tendit iter.
ON THE SAME.
What Midas touch'd became true gold; but then,
Gold becomes lead touch'd lightly by thy pen.
CARTHY KNOCKED OUT SOME TEETH FROM HIS
NEWS-BOY,
For saying he could not live by the profits of Carthy's works
as they did not sell.
I must confess that I was somewhat warm;
I broke his teeth, but where's the mighty harm?
My work he said could ne'er afford him meat,
And teeth are useless where there's nought to eat
TO CARTHY,
On his sending about specimens to force people to subscribe to
his Longinus.
Thus vagrant beggars, to extort
By charity a mean support,
Their sores and putrid ulcers show,
And shock our sense till we bestow.
TO CARTHY,
On his accusing Mr. Dunkin for not publishing his book of
poems.
How different from thine is Dunkin's lot!
Thou'rt curs'd for publishing, and he for not.
ON CARTHY'S PUBLISHING SEVERAL LAMPOONS, under
THE NAMES OF INFAMOUS POETASTERS.
So witches, bent on bad pursuits,
Assume the shapes of filthy brutes.
TO CARTHY.
Thy labours, Carthy, long conceal'd from light,
Piled in a garret, charm'd the author's sight,
But forced from their retirement into day,
The tender embryos half unknown decay;
Thus lamps, which burn'd in tombs with silent glare,
Expire when first exposed to open air.
TO CARTHY, ATTRIBUTING SOME PERFORMANCES TO
MR. DUNKIN.
[From the Gentleman's London Magazine for January.]
My lines to him you give; to speak your due,
'Tis what no man alive will say of you.
Your works are like old Jacob's speckled goats,
Known by the verse, yet better by the notes.
Pope's essays upon some for Young's may pass,
But all distinguish thy dull leaden mass;
So green in different lights may pass for blue,
But what's dyed black will take no other hue.
UPON CARTHY'S THREATENING TO TRANSLATE PINDAR.
You have undone Horace,-what should hinder
Thy Muse from falling upon Pindar?
But ere you mount his fiery steed,
Beware, O bard, how you proceed :-
For should you give him once the reins,
High up in air he'll turn your brains;
And if you should his fury check,
'Tis ten to one he breaks your neck.
SWIFT WROTE THE FOLLOWING EPIGRAM ON ONE DE-
LACOURT'S COMPLIMENTING CARTHY ON HIS POETRY.
Carthy, you say, writes well-his genius true,
You pawn your word for him-he'll vouch for you.
So two poor knaves, who find their credit fail,
To cheat the world, become each other's bail.
AD AMICUM ERUDITUM
THOMAM SHERIDAN. 1717.
DELICIA, Sheridan, Musarum, dulcis amice,
Sic tibi propitius Permessi ad flumen Apollo
734
EPISTLE TO SHERIDAN-THE UPSTART--&c.
Occurrat, seu te mimum convivia rident,
Equivocosque sales spargis, seu ludere versu
Malles; die, Sheridan, quisnam fuit ille deorum,
Quæ melior natura orto tibi tradidit artem
Rimandi genium puerorum, atque ima cerebri
Scrutandi? Tibi, nascenti ad cunabula Pallas
Astitit; et dixit, mentis præsaga futuræ,
Heu, puer infelix! nostro sub sidere natus;
Nam tu pectus eris sine corpore, corporis umbra;
Sed levitate umbram superabis, voce cicadam :
Musca femur, palmas tibi mus dedit, ardea crura.
Corpore sed tenui tibi quod natura negavit,
Hoc animi dotes supplebunt; teque docente,
Nec longum tempus, surget, tibi docta juventus,
Artibus egregiis animas instructa novellas.
Grex hinc Pæonius venit, ecce, salutifer orbi ;
Ast, illi causas orant: his insula visa est
Divinam capiti nodo constringere mitram.
Natalis te horæ non fallunt signa, sed usque
Conscius, expedias puero seu lætus Apollo
Nascenti arrisit; sive illum frigidus horror
Saturni premit, aut septem inflavere triones.
Quin tu altè penitusque latentia semina cernis,
Quæque diu obtundendo olim sub luminis auras
Erumpent, promis; quo ritu sæpè puella
Sub cinere hesterno sopitos suscitat ignes.
Te dominum agnoscit quocunque sub aëre natus:
Quos indulgentis nimium custodia matris
Pessundat: nam sæpè vides in stipite matrem.
Aureus at ramus, venerandæ dona Sibyllæ,
Æneæ sedes tantùm patefecit Avernas;
Sæpè puer, tua quem tetigit semel aurea virga,
Et cœlum, terrasque videt, noctemque profundam.
POETICAL EPISTLE TO DR. SHERIDAN.
SOME ancient authors wisely write
That he who drinks will wake at night,
Will never fail to lose his rest,
And feel a streightness in his chest;
A streightness in a double sense,
A streightness both of breath and pence:
Physicians say, it is but reasonable,
He that comes home at hour unseasonable,
(Besides a fall and broken shins,
Those smaller judgments for his sins,)
If, when he goes to bed, he meets
A teazing wife between the sheets,
'Tis six to five he'll never sleep,
But rave and toss till morning peep.
Yet harmless Betty must be blamed
Because you feel your lungs inflamed;
But if you would not get a fever,
You never must one moment leave her.
This comes of all your drunken tricks,
Your Parrys and your brace of Dicks;
Your hunting Helsham in his laboratory
Too, was the time you saw that Drab lae a Pery."
But like the prelate who lives yonder-a,
And always cries he is like Cassandra;
I always told you, Mr. Sheridan,
If once this company you were rid on,
Frequented honest folk, and very few,
You'd live till all your friends were weary of you.
But if rack punch you still would swallow,
I then forewarn'd you what would follow.
Are the Deanery sober hours?
Be witness for me all ye powers.
The cloth is laid at eight, and then
We sit till half an hour past ten;
One bottle well might serve for three
If Mrs. Robinson drank like me.
Ask how I fret when she has beckon'd
To Robert to bring up a second;
So in the manuscript
I hate to have it in my sight,
And drink my share in perfect spite.
If Robin brings the ladies word
The coach is come, I 'scape a third;
If not, why then I fall a talking
How sweet a night it is for walking;
For in all conscience, were my treasure able,
I'd think a quart a-piece unreasonable;
It strikes eleven,-get out of doors.-
This is my constant farewell.
October 18, 1724, nine in the morning.
You had best hap yourself up in a chair, and dine
with me than with the provost.
LINES WRITTEN ON A WINDOW
IN THE EPISCOPAL PALACE AT KILMORE.
SOON after Swift's acquaintance with Dr. Sheridan, they passed
some days together at the episcopal palace in the diocèse of
Kilmore. When Swift was gone it was discovered that he had
written the following lines on one of the windows which looks
into the churchyard:-
RESOLVE me this, ye happy dead,
Who've lain some hundred years in bed,
From every persecution free
That in this wretched life we see;
Would ye resume a second birth,
And choose once more to live on earth?
Dr. Sheridan wrote underneath the following lines:
THUS spoke great Bedela from his tomb :-
"Mortal, I would not change my doom,
To live in such a restless state,
To be unfortunately great;
To flatter fools, and spurn at knaves,
To shine amidst a race of slaves;
To learn from wise men to complain,
And only rise to fall again:
No! let my dusty relics rest,
Until I rise among the blest.”
THE UPSTART.
THE character of haughty, presuming, tyrannising upstarts al-
ways kindled the indignation of the dean. A person of this
description resided in the parish of Laracor. The following
lines were written by the dean upon this man.
The rascal! that's too mild a name;
Does he forget from whence he came?
Has he forgot from whence he sprung?
A mushroom in a bed of dung;
A maggot in a cake of fat,
The offspring of a beggar's brat;
As eels delight to creep in mud,
To eels we may compare his blood;
His blood delights in mud to run,
Witness his lazy lousy son!
Puff'd up with pride and insolence,
Without a grain of common sense.
See with what consequence he stalks!
With what pomposity he talks!
See how the gaping crowd admire
The stupid blockhead and the liar!
How long shall vice triumphant reign?
How long shall mortals bend to gain?
How long shall Virtue hide her face,
And leave her votaries in disgrace?
-Let indignation fire my strains,
Another villain yet remains.—
Let purse-proud C- -n next approach;
1
With what an air he mounts his coach!
A cart would best become the knave,
A dirty parasite and slave!
His heart in poison deeply dipp'd,
His tongue with oily accents tipp'd,
Bishop Bedel's tomb lies within view of the window.
TO THE CITIZENS-SONG ON A GRAND JURY-&c.
735
A smile still ready at command,
The pliant bow, the forehead bland-
*
*
*
**
*
ON THE ARMS OF THE TOWN OF
WATERFORD.
WHILE viewing this town the dean observed a stone bearing
the city arms, with the motto, URBS INTACTA MANET.
The ap-
proach to this monument was covered with filth. The dean,
on returning to the inn, wrote the Latin epigram, and added
the English paraphrase, for the benefit, he said, of the ladies.
URBS INTACTA MANET-semper intacta manebit,
Tangere crabones quis bene sanus amat?
TRANSLATION.
A THISTLE is the Scottish arms,
Which to the toucher threatens harms:
What are the arms of Waterford,
That no man touches--but a
VERSES ON BLENHEIM.
?
Atria longe patent, sed nec conantibus usquam,
Nec somno, locus est: quam bene non habitas !
MART. lib. 12. ep. 50.
SEE, here's the grand approach,
That way is for his grace's coach;
There lies the bridge, and there the clock,
Observe the lion and the cock ;a
The spacious court, the colonnade,
And mind how wide the hall is made;
The chimneys are so well design'd
They never smoke in any wind:
The galleries contrived for walking,
The windows to retire and talk in ;
The council-chamber to debate,
And all the rest are rooms of state.
Thanks, sir, cried I, 'tis very fine,
But where d'ye sleep, or where d'ye dine?
I find, by all you have been telling,
That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.
TO THE CITIZENS.
AND shall the patriot who maintain'd your cause,
From future ages only meet applause?
Shall he, who timely rose t' his country's aid,
By her own sons, her guardians, be betray'd?
Did heathen virtues in your hearts reside,
These wretches had been damn'd for parricide.
Should you behold, whilst dreadful armies threat
The sure destruction of an injured state,
Some hero, with superior virtue bless'd,
Avert their rage, and succour the distress'd!
Inspired with love of glorious liberty,
Do wonders to preserve his country free;
He like the guardian shepherd stands, and they
Like lions spoil'd of their expected prey,
Each urging in his rage the deadly dart,
Resolved to pierce the generous hero's heart;
Struck with the sight, your souls would swell wi
And dare ten thousand deaths to his relief.
But if the people he preserved should cry,
He went too far, and he deserved to-die,
Would not your soul such treachery detest,
And indignation boil within your breast?
Would not you wish that wretched state preserved,
To feel the tenfold ruin they deserved?
If, then, oppression has not quite subdued
At once your prudence and your gratitude,
If you yourselves conspire not your undoing,
[grief,
And don't deserve, and won't draw down, your ruin,
A lion tearing a cock to pieces was placed in front of Blen-
heim house a wretched pun in architecture, deservedly criti-
cised in the Spectator.
If yet to virtue you have some pretence,
If yet ye are not lost to common sense,
Assist your patriot in your own defence:
That stupid cant, "he went too far," despise,
And know that to be brave is to be wise:
Think how he struggled for your liberty,
And give him freedom whilst yourselves are free.
M. B.
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG,
UPON THE LATE GRAND JURY.
THIS is an address of congratulation to the grand jury who
threw out the bill against Harding the printer.
Poor Monsieur his conscience preserved for a year,
Yet in one hour he lost it, 'tis known far and near;
To whom did he lose it?-A judge or a peer.
Which nobody can deny.
This very same conscience was sold in a closet,
Nor for a baked loaf, or a loaf in a losset,
But a sweet sugar-plum, which you put in a posset.
Which nobody can deny.
O Monsieur, to sell it for nothing was nonsense,
For, if you would sell it, it should have been long since,
But now you have lost both your cake and your con-
science.
Which nobody can deny.
So Nell of the dairy, before she was wed,
Refused ten good guineas for her maidenhead,
Yet gave it for nothing to smooth-spoken Ned.
Which nobody can deny.
But, Monsieur, no vonder dat you vere collogue,
Since selling de contre be now all de vogue,
You be but von fool after seventeen rogue.
Which nobody can deny.
Some sell it for profit 'tis very well known,
And some but for sitting in sight of the throne,
And other some sell what is none of their own.
Which nobody can deny.
But Philpot, and Corker, and Burrus, and Hayze,
And Rayner, and Nicholson challenge our praise,
With six other worthies as glorious as these.
Which nobody can deny.
There's Donevan, Hart, and Archer, and Blood,
And Gibson, and Gerrard, all true men and good,
All lovers of Ireland and haters of Wood.
Which nobody can deny.
But the slaves that would sell us shall hear on't in
time,
Their names shall be branded in prose and in rhyme,
We'll paint 'em in colours as black as their crime.
Which nobody can deny.
But Pr and copper L-h we'll excuse;
The commands of your betters you dare not refuse;
Obey was the word when you wore wooden shoes.
Which nobody can deny.
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG
UPON HIS GRACE OUR GOOD LORD ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.
DR. KING, archbishop of Dublin, rose high in Swift's estima-
tion by his opposition to Woods coinage.
BY HONEST JO, ONE OF HIS GRACE'S FARMERS IN FINGAL.
To the tune of
I sing not of the drapier's praise, nor yet of William
Wood,
But I sing of a famous lord, who seeks his country's
good;
Lord William's grace of Dublin town, 'tis he that first
appears,
Whose wisdom and whose piety do far exceed his
years.
# Whitshed or Carteret.
736
SONG ON THE ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN-PUNCH'S PETITION-&c.
In ev'ry council and debate he stands for what is right,
And still the truth he will maintain, whate'er he
loses by't.
And though some think him in the wrong, yet still
there comes a season
When ev'ry one turns round about, and owns his
grace had reason.
His firmness to the public good, as one that knows it
swore,
Has lost his grace for ten years past ten thousand
pounds and more.
Then come the poor and strip him so, they leave him
not a cross,
For he regards ten thousand pounds no more than
Woods's dross.
To beg his favour is the way new favours still to win,
He makes no more to give ten pounds than I to give a
pin.
Why, there's my landlord now, the squire, who all
in money wallows,
He would not give a groat to save his father from the
gallows.
"A bishop," says the noble squire, "I hate the very
name,
To have two thousand pounds a-year-O'tis a burn-
ing shame!
Two thousand pounds a-year! good lord! and I to
have but five !"
And under him no tenant yet was ever known to
thrive :
Now from his lordship's grace I hold a little piece of
ground,
And all the rent I pay is scarce five shillings in the
pound.
Then master steward takes my rent, and tells me,
"Honest Jo,
Come, you must take a cup of sack or two before you
go.'
He bids me then to hold my tongue, and up the
money locks,
For fear my lord should send it all into the poor
man's box.
And once I was so bold to beg that I might see his
grace,
Good lord! I wonder how I dared to look him in the
face:
Then down I went upon my knees, his blessing to
obtain ;
He gave it me, and ever since I find I thrive amain.
"Then," said my lord, "I'm very glad to see thee,
honest friend,
I know the times are something hard, but hope they
soon will mend,
Pray never press yourself for rent, but pay me when
you can ;
I find you bear a good report, and are an honest man.
Then said his lordship with a smile, "I must have
lawful cash,
I hope you will not pay my rent in that same Woods's
trash!"'
"God bless your grace!" I then replied, "I'd see
him hanging higher,
Before I'd touch his filthy dross, than is Clandalkin
spire.'
To every farmer twice a-week all round about the
Yoke,
Our parsons read the drapier's books, and make us
honest folk.
And then I went to pay the squire, and in the way
I found
His bailie driving all my cows into the parish pound;
"Why, sirrah," said the noble squire, "how dare you
see my face?
Your rent is due almost a week, besides the days of
grace."
And yet the land I from him hold is set so on the rack,
That only for the bishop's lease 'twould quickly
break my back.
Then God preserve his lordship's grace, and make
him live as long
As did Methusalem of old; and so I end my song.
TO HIS GRACE THE ARCHBISHOP OF
DUBLIN.
A poem.
Serus in cœlum redeas, diuque
Lætus intersis populo.-HoR.
GREAT, GOOD, and JUST, was once applied
To one who for his country died;
To one who lives in its defence
We speak it in a happier sense.
O may the fates thy life prolong!
Our country then can dread no wrong:
In thy great care we place our trust,
Because thou'rt great, and good, and just:
Thy breast unshaken can oppose
Our private and our public foes:
The latent wiles and tricks of state
Your wisdom can with ease defeat.
When power in all its pomp appears,
It falls before thy rev'rend years,
And willingly resigns its place
To something nobler in thy face.
When once the fierce pursuing Gaul
Had drawn his sword for Marius' fall,
The godlike hero with a frown
Struck all his rage and malice down;
Then how can we dread William Wood,
If by thy presence he's withstood?
Where wisdom stands to keep the field,
In vain he brings his brazen shield;
Though like the sibyl's priest he comes,
With furious din of brazen drums,
The force of thy superior voice
Shall strike him dumb and quell their noise.
PUNCH'S PETITION TO THE LADIES.
Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
Auri sacra fames?—
FAIR ones who do all hearts command,
And gently sway with fan in hand
Your favourite-Punch a suppliant falls,
And humbly for assistance calls;
He humbly calls and begs you'll stop
The gothic rage of Vander Hop,
Wh' invades without pretence and right,
Or any law but that of might,
Our Pigmy land-and treats our kings
Like paltry idle wooden things;
Has beat our dancers out of doors,
And call'd our chastest virgins whores;
He has not left our queen a rag on,
Has forced away our George and Dragon,
Has broke our wires, nor was he civil
To doctor Faustus nor the devil;
E'en us he hurried with full rage,
Most hoarsely squalling off the stage;
And faith our fright was very great
To see a minister of state,
Arm'd with power and fury come
To force us from our little home-
We fear'd, as I am sure we had reason,
An accusation of high treason;
Till, starting up, says Banamiere,
"Treason, my friends, we need not fear,
For 'gainst the Brass we used no power,
Nor strove to save the chancellor.a
a Lord-chancellor Middleton, against whom a vote of cen-
sure passed in the house of lords for delay of justice occasioned
by his absence in England.
PUNCH'S PETITION-BALLAD.
737
Nor did we show the least affection
To Rochford or the Meath election;
Nor did we sing, Machugh he means.' "
"You villain, I'll dash out your brains.
'Tis no affair of state which brings
Me here or business of the king's ;
I'm come to seize you all as debtors,
And bind you fast in iron fetters,
From sight of every friend in town,
Till fifty pound's to me paid down."
"Fifty!" quoth I, "a devilish sum;
But stay till the brass farthings come,
Then we shall all be rich as Jews,
From castle down to lowest stews;
That sum shall to you then be told,
Though now we cannot furnish gold.”
Quoth he, "Thou vile mis-shapen beast,
Thou knave, am I become thy jest?
And dost thou think that I am come
To carry nought but farthings home?
Thou fool, I ne'er do things by halves,
Farthings are made for Irish slaves;
No brass for me, it must be gold,
Or fifty pounds in silver told,
That can by any means obtain
Freedom for thee and for thy train."
"Votre très humble serviteur,
I'm not in jest," said I, "I'm sure;
But from the bottom of my belly,
I do in sober sadness tell you,
I thought it was good reasoning
For us fictitious men to bring
Brass counters made by William Wood
Intrinsic as we flesh and blood;
Then since we are but mimic men,
Pray let us pay in mimic coin."
Quoth he, "Thou lovest, Punch, to prate,
And could'st for ever hold debate;
But think'st thou I have nought to do
But to stand prating thus with you?
Therefore to stop your noisy parley,
I do at once assure you fairly
That not a puppet of you all
Shall stir a step without this wall,
Nor merryandrew beat thy drum,
Until you pay the foresaid sum.
Then marching off with swiftest race
To write despatches for his grace,
The revel-master left the room,
And us condemn'd to fatal doom.
Now, fair ones, if e'er I found grace,
Or if my jokes did ever please,
Use all your interest with your seca
(They say he's at the ladies' beck);
And though he thinks as much of gold
As ever Midas did of old,
Your charms I'm sure can never fail,
Your eyes must influence, must prevail;
At your command he'll set us free,
Let us to you owe liberty.
Get us a licence now to play,
And we'll in duty ever pray.
BALLAD.
To the tune of Commons and Peers.
I.
A WONDERFUL age
Is now on the stage:
I'll sing you a song if I can,
How modern Whigs
Dance forty-one jigs,º
But God bless our gracious queen Anne
a Abridged from secretary, rythmi gratia.
The year of the rebellion, 1641.
VOL. I.
II.
The kirk with applause
Is establish'd by laws
As the orthodox church of the nation;
The bishops do own
It's as good as their own;
And this, sir, is call'd moderation
III.
It's no riddle now
To let you see how
A church by oppression may speed
Nor is't banter or jest,
That the kirk faith is best
On the other side of the Tweed.
IV.
For no soil can suit
With every fruit;
Even so, sir, it is with religion;
The best church by far
Is what grows where you are,
Were it Mahomet's ass or his pigeon.
V.
Another strange story
That vexes the Tory,
But sure there's no mystery in it,
That a pension and place
Give communicants grace,
Who design to turn tail the next minute.
VI.
For if it be not strange
That religion should change
As often as climates and fashions;
Then sure there's no harm
That one should conform
To serve their own private occasions.
VII.
Another new dance,
Which of late they advance,
Is to cry up the birth of pretender,
And those that dare own
The queen heir to the crown
Are traitors not fit to defend her.
VIII.
The subject's most loyal
That hate the blood royal,
And they for employment have merit
Who swear queen and steeple
Were made by the people,
And neither have right to inherit.
IX.
The monarchy's fix'd
By making on't mix'd,
And by non-resistance o'erthrown ;
And preaching obedience.
Destroys our allegiance,
And thus the Whigs prop up the throne.
X.
That viceroy [lord Wharton] is best
That would take off the test,
And made a sham speech to attempt it;
But being true blue,
When he found 'twould not do,
Swore, damn him, if ever he meant it.
XI.
'Tis no news that Tom Double
The nation should bubble,
Nor is't any wonder or riddle
That a parliament rump
Should play hop, step, and jump,
And dance any jig to his fiddle.
3 B
738
PARODY ON DR. PRATT'S SPEECH.
XII.
But now, sir, they tell
How Sacheverell,
By bringing old doctrines in fashion,
Hath, like a damn'd rogue,
Brought religion in vogue,
And so open'd the eyes of the nation.
XIII.
Then let's pray without spleen,
May God bless the queen,
And her fellow-monarchs the people:
May they prosper and thrive
Whilst I am alive,
And so may the church with the steeple.
ON THE
PARODY
SPEECH OF DR. BENJAMIN PRATT, PROVOST
OF TRINITY COLLEGE, TO THE PRINCE OF WALES.
THE following is the original speech from the London Gazette
of Tuesday, April 17, 1716. The provost, it appears, was at-
tended by the rev. Dr. Howard and Mr. George Berkeley
(afterwards bishop of Cloyne), both of them fellows of Trinity
College, Dublin. The speech was praised by Addison, in the
"Freeholder," though his classical taste must have suffered,
while his loyalty approved.
"Then the provost proceeded and made the following speech
to his royal highness:-
"Permit us, most illustrious prince, with hearts full of duty
to approach your royal person. His majesty's loyal university
of Dublin, which glories in its most renowned foundress, queen
Elizabeth of blessed memory, aspires now with greater honour,
and, zealous for the dignity and welfare of their body, seeks a
head and governor equal in birth to their glorious foundress,
the same munificent patron of learning, constant defender of our
true religion, and bright example of virtue-a character belong-
ing only to your royal highness.
"As this noble view alone fills all their thoughts, and most
agreeably points out their choice, pardon, most gracious prince,
the ambition of their present address; deign, with that goodness
which guides all your actions, to receive into your protection a
society which, from duty, interest, and affection, humbly hopes
to be placed under it; that society wherein his majesty s faith-
ful subjects of Ireland received those principles that render
them now eminent in the service of their country, firm in their
allegiance to their prince, and unshaken in their zeal for the
apostolical faith established amongst them. Here it was they
first were taught obedience to the king, and wisely instructed
that out of the illustrious house of Hanover would come the
greatest and best of kings.
"Happy indeed were our presages, and joyful altogetner
is the accomplishment of them. Our eyes behold a prince now
sitting on the throne of his royal ancestors, wise, valiant, just,
and magnanimous: a monarch loaded with all the martial
glories of the field, and long distinguished for the nobler arts
of peace and of civil government. His early years he devoted
to the cause of religion against Turks and infidels; he after-
wards employed his arms in defence of the liberties of Europe,
at a time when they were in the utmost danger from abroad;
and now he completes his glories at home in delivering Britain,
the bulwark of the protestant faith, from the inconsistent rulo
of a popish protender. By his wisdom he has defeated all
secret attempts; by his valour conquered in the open field;
his justice awes the daring and the violent; his clemency gains.
the weak and deluded; his large revenues he employs in secur-
ing those liberties for whose preservation his undoubted title
is most justly founded, and in endowing that church whose
rise and fall, like a true and affectionate friend, does ever ac-
company the English monarchy. A prince of fewer virtues
might make a nation happy; but every quality of his exalted
mind has contributed to our present peace and safety.
"Forgive me, most serene prince, that I attempt thus faintly
to touch that great character so fully copied in your royal
person; but there a noble virtue which adorns the rest forbids
me, in your angust presence, to name those heroic qualities
which in other places are the constant subject of our praise
and delight. We congratulate each other on the felicities of
the present reign: a glorious successor lengthens out the pleas-
ing prospect; and we see our joy perpetuated in a beautiful
offspring which fills our palaces. The pious care and example
of a most excellent princess instils their parent's virtues; and
virtue recommended in these lovely forms must draw the imi-
tation of all below them. Hence may these kingdoms date a
second reformation from vice and irreligion, a glory which
Providence seems to have reserved to your illustrious house.
"And such happy assurances his majesty's university of
Dublin has conceived of those blessings which will attend your
royal family that joyfully they lay hold of this first opportu-
nity to place themselves under the immediate government of
it. Not content to share with their fellow-subjects the distant
influences derived through other hands, they approach near
the throne, submitting themselves with the profoundest vene-
ration to your princely authority. And most willing must
their obedience be to those commands where private interest
cannot mix or designs be formed against that happy settlement
whose preservation lies nearest at all our hearts.
"Descend then, most mighty prince, to give us laws. Ire-
land submits its harp into your royal hands. Rule, instruct,
and nourish the attending muses; make them the envied sub-
jects of your present care and the lively image of a happy peo
ple. Protect and govern now the nursery of that faith, whereof
we daily beseech Heaven, in sincerity of heart, to establish
your royal highness the next most glorious defender."
THE SPEECH OF THE PROVOST OF
TRINITY COLLEGE
TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS GEORGE PRINCE OF
WALES.
I.
ILLUSTRIOUS prince, we're come before ye,
Who, more than in our founders, glory
To be by you protected;
Deign to descend and give us laws,
For we are converts to your cause,
From this day well-affected.a
II.
The noble view of your high merits
Has charm'd our thoughts and fix'd our spirits
With zeal so warm and hearty,
That we resolved to be devoted,
At least until we be promoted,
By your just power and party.
III.
Urged by a passionate desire
Of being raised a little higher,
From lazy cloister'd life,
We cannot flatter you nor fawn,
But fain would honour'd be with lawn,
And settled by a wife.b
IV.
For this we have before resorted,
Paid levees punctually, and courted,
Our charge at home long quitting;
But now we're come just in the nick,
Upon a vacante bishopric,
This bait can't fail of hitting.
V.
Thus, sir, you see how much affection,
Not interest, sways in this election,
But sense of loyal duty;
For you surpass all princes far,
As glow-worms do exceed a star,
In goodness, wit, and beauty.
VI.
To you our Irish commons owe
That wisdom which their actions show,
Their principles from ours springs,
Taught, ere the deil himself could dream on't,
That of their illustrious house a stem on't
Should rise the best of kings.
VII.
The glad presages with our eyes
Behold a king, chaste, vigilant, and wise,
In foreign fields victorious,
Who in his youth the Turks attacks,
And [made] them still to turn their backs;
Was ever king so glorious?
a The rev. Dr. Benjamin Pratt was, at this time, April 1716,
provost of Trinity college.
b The statutes of the university enjoin celibacy.
• The see of Killaloe was then vacant, and to this bishopric
the rev. Dr. George Carr, chaplain to the Irish house of com-
mons, was nominated.
RIDDLES
739
VIII.
Since Ormond's like a traitor gone,
We scorn to do what some have done,
For learning much more famous;a
Fools may pursue their adverse fate,
And stick to the unfortunate;
We laugh while they condemn us.
IX.
For, being of that gen'rous mind,
To success we are still inclined,
And quit the suffering side;
If on our friends cross planets frown,
We join the cry and hunt them down,
And sail with wind and tide.
X.
Hence 'twas this choice we long delay'd,
Till our rash foes the rebels fled,
Whilst fortune held the scale;
But [since] they're driven like mist before you,
Our rising sun, we now adore you,
Because you now prevail.
XI.
Descend then from your lofty seat,
Behold th' attending Muses wait
With us to sing your praises;
Calliope now strings up her lyre,
And Cliob Phoebus does inspire,
The theme their fancy raises.
XII.
If then our nursery you will nourish,
We and our Muses too will flourish,
Encouraged by your favour;
We'll doctrines teach the times to serve,
And more five thousand pounds deserve
By future good behaviour.
XIII.
Now take our harp into your hand,
The joyful strings, at your command,
In doleful sounds no more shall mourn.
We, with sincerity of heart,
To all your tunes shall bear a part,
Unless we see the tables turn.
XIV.
If so, great sir, you will excuse us,
For we and our attending Muses
May live to change our strain;
And turn, with merry hearts, our tune,
Upon some happy tenth of June,
To "the king enjoys his own again.”
RIDDLES BY DR. SWIFT AND
HIS FRIENDS.
Written in or about the year 1724.
8
PETHOX THE GREAT. 1723.
FROM Venus born thy beauty shows;
But who thy father no man knows:
Nor can the skilful herald trace
The founder of thy ancient race;
Alluding to the sullen silence of Oxford upon the accession.
This is spelled Chloe, but evidently should be Clio.
• In the Dublin edition we find,
"About nine or ten years
ago (i. e. about 1724), some ingenious gentlemen, friends to the
author, used to entertain themselves with writing riddles, and
send them to him and their other acquaintance; copies of
which ran about, and some of them were printed, both here
and in England. The author, at his leisure hours, fell into
the same amusement; although it be said that he thought them
of no great merit, entertainment, or use.
Whether thy temper, full of fire,
Discovers Vulcan for thy sire,
The god who made Scamander boil,
And round his margin singed the soil
(From whence, philosophers agree,
An equal power descends to thee);
Whether from dreadful Mars you claim
The high descent from whence you came,
And, as a proof, show numerous scars
By fierce encounters made in wars,
Those honourable wounds you bore
From head to foot, and all before,
And still the bloody field frequent,
Familiar in each leader's tent;
Or whether, as the learn'd contend,
You from the neighbouring Gaul descend;
Or from Parthenope the proud,
Where numberless thy votaries crowd ;
Whether thy great forefathers came
From realms that bear Vespuccio's name,
For so conjectures would obtrude,
And from thy painted skin conclude;
Whether, as Epicurus shows,
The world from justling seeds arose,
Which, mingling with prolific strife
In chaos, kindled into life :
So your production was the same,
And from contending atoms came.
Thy fair indulgent mother crown'd
Thy head with sparkling rubies round:
Beneath thy decent steps the road
Is all with precious jewels strew'd.
The bird of Pallasa knows his post,
Thee to attend where'er thou goest.
Byzantians boast that on the clod
Where once their sultan's horse hath trod
Grows neither grass, nor shrub, nor tree .
The same thy subjects boast of thee.
The greatest lord, when you appear,
Will deign your livery to wear,
In all the various colours seen
Of red and yellow, blue and green.
With half a word, when you require,
The man of business must retire.
The haughty minister of state
With trembling must thy leisure wait,
And, while his fate is in thy hands,
The business of the nation stands.
Thou darest the greatest prince attack,
Canst hourly set him on the rack ;
And, as an instance of thy power,
Enclose him in a wooden tower,
With pungent pains on every side:
So Regulus in torments died.
From thee our youth all virtues learn,
Dangers with prudence to discern;
And well thy scholars are endued
With temperance and with fortitude;
With patience, which all ills supports,
And secrecy, the art of courts.
The glittering beau could hardly tell,
Without your aid, to read or spell;
But, having long conversed with you,
Knows how to scrawl a billet-doux.
With what delight, methinks, I trace
Your blood in every noble race!
In whom thy features, shape, and mien,
Are to the life distinctly seen!
The Britons, once a savage kind,
By you were brighten'd and refined,
Descendants to the barbarous Huns,
With limbs robust and voice that stuns:
Bubo, the owl.
3 B 2
740
RIDDLES.
But you have moulded them afresh,
Removed the tough superfluous flesh,
Taught them to modulate their tongues,
And speak without the help of lungs.
Proteus on you bestow'd the boon
To change your visage like the moon
You sometimes half a face produce,
Keep t'other half for private use.
How famed thy conduct in the fight
With Hermes, son of Pleias bright!
Outnumber'd, half encompass'd round
You strove for every inch of ground;
Then, by a soldierly retreat,
Retired to your imperial seat.
The victor, when your steps he traced,
Found all the realms before him waste:
You, o'er the high triumphal arch
Pontific, made your glorious march :
The wondrous arch behind you fell,
And left a chasm profound as hell:
You, in your capital secured,
A siege as long as Troy endured.
ON A PEN. 1724.
IN youth exalted high in air,
Or bathing in the waters fair,
Nature to form me took delight,
And clad my body all in white.
My person tall, and slender waist,
On either side with fringes graced;
Till me that tyrant man espied,
And dragg'd me from my mother's side:
No wonder now I look so thin;
The tyrant stripp'd me to the skin:
My skin he flay'd, my hair he cropp'd:
At head and foot my body lopp'd:
And then, with heart more hard than stone,
He pick'd my marrow from the bone.
To vex me more, he took a freak
To slit my tongue and make me speak :
But, that which wonderful appears,
I speak to eyes, and not to ears.
He oft employs me in disguise,
And makes me tell a thousand lies:
To me he chiefly gives in trust
To please his malice or his lust.
From me no secret he can hide;
I see his vanity and pride :
And my delight is to expose
His follies to his greatest foes.
All languages I can command,
Yet not a word I understand.
Without my aid the best divine
In learning would not know a line:
The lawyer must forget his pleading;
The scholar could not show his reading.
Nay; man my master is my slave;
I give command to kill or save,
Can grant ten thousand pounds a-year,
And make a beggar's brat a peer.
But, while I thus my life relate,
I only hasten on my fate.
My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd,
I hardly now can force a word.
I die unpitied and forgot,
And on some dunghill left to rot.
ON GOLD.
ALL-ruling tyrant of the earth,
To vilest slaves I owe my birth,
How is the greatest monarch bless'd,
When in my gaudy livery dress'd !
No haughty nymph has power to run
From me, or my embraces shun.
Stabb'd to the heart, condemn'd to flame,
My constancy is still the same.
The favourite messenger of Jove,
And Lemnian god, consulting strove
To make me glorious to the sight
Of mortals, and the gods' delight.
Soon would their altars' flame expire
If I refused to lend them fire.
By fate exalted high in place,
Lo, here I stand with double face:
Superior none on earth I find;
But see below me all mankind.
Yet, as it oft attends the great,
I almost sink with my own weight.
At every motion undertook
The vulgar all consult my look.
I sometimes give advice in writing,
But never of my own inditing.
I am a courtier in my way;
For those who raised me I betray;
And some give out that I entice
To lust, to luxury, and dice,
Who punishments on me inflict,
Because they find their pockets pick'd.
By riding post I lose my health,
And only to get others wealth.
ON THE POSTERIORS.
BECAUSE I am by nature blind,
I wisely choose to walk behind;
However, to avoid disgrace,
I let no creature see my face.
My words are few, but spoke with sense,
And yet my speaking gives offence;
Or, if to whisper I presume,
The company will fly the room.
By all the world I am oppress'd;
And my oppression gives them rest.
Through me, though sore against my will,
Instructors every art instil.
By thousands I am sold and bought,
Who neither get nor lose a groat;
For none, alas! by me can gain,
But those who give me greatest pain.
Shall man presume to be my master,
Who's but my caterer and taster?
Yet, though I always have my will,
I'm but a mere depender still:
An humble hanger-on at best;
Of whom all people make a jest.
In me detractors seek to find
Two vices of a different kind;
I'm too profuse, some censurers cry,
And all I get, I let it fly;
While others give me many a curse,
Because too close I hold my purse.
But this I know, in either case
They dare not charge me to my face.
'Tis true, indeed, sometimes I save,
Sometimes run out of all I have;
But, when the year is at an end,
Computing what I get and spend,
My goings-out, and comings-in,
I cannot find I lose or win ;
And therefore all that know me say
I justly keep the middle way.
I'm always by my betters led;
;
I last get up, and first a-bed
Though, if I rise before my time,
The learn'd in sciences sublime
Consult the stars, and thence foretell
Good luck to those with whom I dwell.
RIDDLES.
741
ON A HORN.
THE joy of man, the pride of brutes,
Domestic subject for disputes,
Of plenty thou the emblem fair,
Adorn'd by nymphs with all their care!
I saw thee raised to high renown,
Supporting half the British crown ;
And often have I seen thee grace
The chaste Diana's infant face;
And whensoe'er you please to shine,
Less useful is her light than thine :
Thy numerous fingers know their way,
And oft in Celia's tresses play.
To place thee in another view,
I'll show the world strange things and true;
What lords and dames of high degree
May justly claim their birth from thee!
The soul of man with spleen you vex;
Of spleen you cure the female sex.
Thee for a gift the courtier sends
With pleasure to his special friends :
He gives, and with a generous pride,
Contrives all means the gift to hide :
Nor oft can the receiver know
Whether he has the gift or no.
On airy wings you take your flight,
And fly unseen both day and night;
Conceal your form with various tricks ;
And few know how or where you fix:
Yet some, who ne'er bestow'd thee, boast
That they to others give thee most.
Meantime, the wise a question start,
If thou a real being art,
Or but a creature of the brain,
That gives imaginary pain :
But the sly giver better knows thee;
Who feels true joys when he bestows thee.
ON A CORKSCREW.
THOUGH I, alas! a prisoner be,
My trade is prisoners to set free.
No slave his lord's commands obeys
With such insinuating ways.
;
My genius piercing, sharp, and bright,
Wherein the men of wit delight.
The clergy keep me for their ease,
And turn and wind me as they please.
A new and wondrous art I show
Of raising spirits from below;
In scarlet some, and some in white
They rise, walk round, yet never fright.
In at each mouth the spirits pass,
Distinctly seen as through a glass:
O'er head and body make a rout,
And drive at last all secrets out;
And still, the more I show my art,
The more they open every heart.
A greater chemist none than I,
Who, from materials hard and dry,
Have taught men to extract with skill
More precious juice than from a still.
Although I'm often out of case,
I'm not ashamed to show my face.
Though at the tables of the great
I near the sideboard take my seat,
Yet the plain 'squire, when dinner's done,
Is never pleased till I make one;
He kindly bids me near him stand,
And often takes me by the hand.
I twice a day a-hunting go;
Nor ever fail to seize my foe;
And when I have him by the poll,
I drag him upwards from his hole;
Though some are of so stubborn kind,
I'm forced to leave a limb behind.
I hourly wait some fatal end;
For I can break, but scorn to bend.
THE GULF OF ALL HUMAN POSSESSIONS.
1724.
COME hither, and behold the fruits,
Vain man! of all thy vain pursuits.
Take wise advice, and look behind;
Bring all past actions to thy mind.
Here you may see, as in a glass,
How soon all human pleasures pass.
How will it mortify thy pride.
To turn the true impartial side!
How will your eyes contain their tears
When all the sad reverse appears!
This cave within its womb confines
The last result of all designs:
Here lie deposited the spoils
Of busy mortals' endless toils:
Here, with an easy search, we find
The foul corruptions of mankind.
The wretched purchase here behold
Of traitors, who their country sold.
This gulf insatiate imbibes
The lawyer's fees, the statesman's bribes.
Here, in their proper shape and mien,
Fraud, perjury, and guilt are seen.
Necessity, the tyrant's law,
All human race must hither draw;
All prompted by the same desire,
The vigorous youth and aged sire.
Behold the coward and the brave,
The haughty prince, the humble slave,
Physician, lawyer, and divine,
All make oblations at this shrine.
Some enter boldly, some by stealth,
And leave behind their fruitless wealth.
For, while the bashful sylvan maid,
As, half ashamed and half afraid,
Approaching finds it hard to part
With that which dwelt so near her heart,
The courtly dame, unmoved by fear,
Profusely pours her offering here.
A treasure here of learning lurks,
Huge heaps of never-dying works,
Labours of many an ancient sage,
And millions of the present age.
In at this gulf all offerings pass
And lie an undistinguish'd mass.
Deucalion, to restore mankind,
Was bid to throw the stones behind;
So those who here the gifts convey
Are forced to look another way;
For few, a chosen few, must know
The mysteries that lie below.
Sad charnel-house! a dismal dome,
For which all mortals leave their home;
The young, the beautiful, and brave,
Here buried in one common grave!
Where each supply of dead renews
Unwholesome damps, offensive dews:
And lo! the writing on the walls
Points out where each new victim falls
The food of worms and beasts obscene,
Who round the vault luxuriant reign.
See where those mangled corpses lie,
Condemn'd by female hands to die;
A comely dame, once clad in white,
Lies there consign'd to endless night;
By cruel hands her blood was spilt,
And yet her wealth was all her guilt.
742
RIDDLES.
And here six virgins in a tomb,
All-beauteous offspring of one womb,
Oft in the train of Venus seen,
As fair and lovely as their queen;
In royal garments each was dress'd,
Each with a gold and purple vest;
I saw them of their garments stripp'd,
Their throats were cut, their bellies ripp'd;
Twice were they buried, twice were born,
Twice from their sepulchres were torn;
But now dismember'd here are cast,
And find a resting-place at last.
Here oft the curious traveller finds
The combat of opposing winds;
And seeks to learn the secret cause,
Which alien seems from nature's laws;
Why at this cave's tremendous mouth
He feels at once both north and south ;
Whether the winds, in caverns pent,
Through clefts oppugnant force a vent;
Or whether, opening all his stores,
Fierce Eolus in tempest roars.
Yet, from this mingled mass of things,
In time a new creation springs.
These crude materials once shall rise
To fill the earth, and air, and skies;
In various forms appear again,
Of vegetables, brutes, and men.
So Jove pronounced among the gods,
Olympus trembling as he nods.
LOUISA TO STREPHON.
AH! Strephon, how can you despise
Her who without thy pity dies!
To Strephon I have still been true,
And of as noble blood as you;
Fair issue of the genial bed,
A virgin in thy bosom bred;
Embraced thee closer than a wife :
When thee I leave, I leave my life.
Why should my shepherd take amiss
That oft I wake thee with a kiss?
1724.
Yet you of every kiss complain;
Ah! is not love a pleasing pain?
A pain which every happy night
You cure with ease and with delight;
With pleasure as the poet sings,
Too great for mortals less than kings.
Chloe, when on thy breast I lie,
Observes me with revengeful eye:
If Chloe o'er thy heart prevails,
She'll tear me with her desperate nails;
And with relentless hands destroy
The tender pledges of our joy.
Nor have I bred a spurious race;
They all were born from thy embrace.
Consider, Strephon, what you do;
For, should I die for love of
you,
I'll haunt thy dreams, a bloodless ghost;
And all my kin (a numerous host,
Who down direct our lineage bring
From victors o'er the Memphian king;
Renown'd in sieges and campaigns,
Who never fled the bloody plains;
Who in tempestuous seas can sport,
And scorn the pleasures of a court;
From whom great Sylla found his doom,
Who scourged to death that scourge of Rome)
Shall on thee take a vengeance dire;
Thou like Alcides shalt expire,
When his envenom'd shirt he wore,
And skin and flesh in pieces tore.
a This riddle is solved by an anagram
Nor less that shirt, my rival's gift,
Cut from the piece that made her shift,
Shall in thy dearest blood be dyed,
And make thee tear thy tainted hide.
A MAYPOLE. 1725.
DEPRIVED of root and branch and rind,
Yet flowers I bear of every kind:
And such is my prolific power,
They bloom in less than half an hour;
Yet standers-by may plainly see
They get no nourishment from me.
My head with giddiness goes round,
And yet I firmly stand my ground;
All over naked I am seen,
And painted like an Indian queen.
No couple-beggar in the land
E'er join'd such numbers hand in hand.
I join'd them fairly with a ring;
Nor can our parson blame the thing.
And though no marriage words are spoke,
They part not till the ring is broke:
Yet hypocrite fanatics cry,
I'm but an idol raised on high;
And once a weaver in our town,
A damn'd Cromwellian, knock'd me down.
I lay a prisoner twenty years,
And then the jovial cavaliers
To their old post restored all three-
I mean the church, the king, and me.
ON THE MOON.
I WITH borrow'd silver shine;
What you see is none of mine.
First I show you but a quarter,
Like the bow that guards the Tartar
Then the half, and then the whole,
Ever dancing round the pole.
And what will raise your admiration,
I am not one of God's creation,
But sprung, (and I this truth maintain,)
Like Pallas, from my father's brain.
And after all, I chiefly owe
My beauty to the shades below.
Most wondrous forms you see me wear,
A man, a woman, lion, bear,
A fish, a fowl, a cloud, a field,
All figures heaven or earth can yield;
Like Daphne sometimes in a tree;
Yet am not one of all you see.
ON A CIRCLE.
I'm up and down and round about,
Yet all the world can't find me out;
Though hundreds have employ'd their leisure,
They never yet could find my measure.
I'm found almost in every garden,
Nay, in the compass of a farthing.
There's neither chariot, coach, nor mill,
Can move an inch except I will.
ON INK.
I AM jet black, as you may see,
The son of pitch and gloomy night:
Yet all that know me will
agree
I'm dead except I live in light.
Sometimes in panegyric high,
Like lofty Pindar, I can soar;
And raise a virgin to the sky,
Or sink her to a pocky whore.
My blood this day is very sweet,
To-morrow of a bitter juice;
Like milk, 'tis cried about the street,
And so applied to different use.
RIDDLES.
743
Most wondrous is my magic power;
For with one colour I can paint;
I'll make the devil a saint this hour,
Next make a devil of a saint.
Through distant regions I can fly,
Provide me but with paper wings;
And fairly show a reason why
There should be quarrels among kings;
And, after all, you'll think it odd,
When learned doctors will dispute,
That I should point the word of God,
And show where they can best confute.
Let lawyers bawl and strain their throats:
'Tis I that must the lands convey,
And strip their clients to their coats;
Nay, give their very souls away.
ON THE FIVE SENSES.
ALL of us in one you'll find,
Brethren of a wondrous kind;
Yet among us all no brother
Knows one tittle of the other;
We in frequent councils are,
And our marks of things declare,
Where, to us unknown, a clerk
Sits, and takes them in the dark.
He's the register of all
In our ken, both great and small
By us forms his laws and rules,
He's our master, we his tools;
Yet we can with greatest ease
AN ECHO.
NEVER sleeping, still awake,
Pleasing most when most I speak;
The delight of old and young,
Though I speak without a tongue.
Nought but one thing can confound me,
Many voices joining round me;
Then I fret, and rave, and gabble,
Like the labourers of Babel.
Now I am a dog, or cow,
I can bark, or I can low;
I can bleat, or I can sing,
Like the warblers of the spring.
Let the lovesick bard complain,
And I mourn the cruel pain;
Let the happy swain rejoice,
And I join my helping voice :
Both are welcome, grief or joy;
I with either sport and toy.
Though a lady, I am stout,
Drums and trumpets bring me out :
Then I clash, and roar, and rattle,
Join in all the din of battle.
Jove, with all his loudest thunder,
When I'm vex'd, can't keep me under
Yet so tender is my ear,
;
That the lowest voice I fear:
Much I dread the courtier's fate,
When his merit's out of date
;
;
For I hate a silent breath,
Turn and wind him where we please.
One of us alone can sleep,
Yet no watch the rest will keep,
But the moment that he closes,
Every brother else reposes.
If wine's bought or victuals dress'd,
One enjoys them for the rest.
Pierce us all with wounding steel,
One for all of us will feel.
Though ten thousand cannons roar,
Add to them ten thousand more,
Yet but one of us is found
Who regards the dreadful sound.
Do what is not fit to tell,
There's but one of us can smell.
FONTINELLA [A FOUNTAIN] TO FLORINDA.
WHEN on my bosom thy bright eyes,
Florinda, dart their heavenly beams,
I feel not the least love surprise,
Yet endless tears flow down in streams;
There's nought so beautiful in thee
But you may find the same in me.
The lilies of thy skin compare ;
In me you see them full as white:
The roses of your cheeks, I dare
Affirm, can't glow to more delight.
Then, since I show as fine a face,
Can you refuse a soft embrace?
Ah! lovely nymph, thou'rt in thy prime!
And so am I, while thou art here;
But soon will come the fatal time
When all we see shall disappear.
'Tis mine to make a just reflection,
And yours to follow my direction.
Then catch admirers while you may ;
Treat not your lovers with disdain:
For time with beauty flies away,
And there is no return again.
To you the snd account I bring,
Life's autumn has no second spring.
And a whisper is my death.
ON A SHADOW IN A GLASS.
By something form'd, I nothing am,
Yet everything that you can name;
In no place have I ever been,
Yet everywhere I may be seen;
In all things false, yet always true,
I'm still the same-but never new.
Lifeless, life's perfect form I wear,
Can show a nose, eye, tongue, or ear,
Yet neither smell, see, taste, or hear.
All shapes and features I can boast,
No flesh, no bones, no blood-no ghost:
All colours, without paint, put on,
And change like the chameleon.
Swiftly I come, and enter there,
Where not a chink lets in the air;
Like thought, I'm in a moment gone,
Nor can I ever be alone:
All things on earth I imitate
Faster than nature can create;
Sometimes imperial robes I wear,
Anon in beggar's rags appear;
A giant now, and straight an elf,
I'm every one, but ne'er myself;
Ne'er sad I mourn, ne'er glad rejoice,
I move my lips, but want a voice;
I ne'er was born, nor ne'er can die,
Then, pr'ythee, tell me what am I?
MOST things by me do rise and fall,
And, as I please, they're great and small;
Invading foes, without resistance,
With ease I make to keep their distance:
Again, as I'm disposed, the foe
Will come, though not a foot they go.
Both mountains, woods, and hills, and rocks,
And gamesome goats, and fleecy flocks,
And lowing herds, and piping swains,
Come dancing to me o'er the plains.
The greatest whale that swims the sea
Does instantly my power obey.
In vain from me the sailor flies,
The quickest ship I can surprise,
744
RIDDLES.
And turn it as I have a mind,
And move it against tide and wind.
Nay, bring me here the tallest man,
I'll squeeze him to a little span ;
Or bring a tender child, and pliant,
You'll see me stretch him to a giant :
Nor shall they in the least complain,
Because my magic gives no pain.
ON TIME.
EVER eating, never cloying,
All-devouring, all-destroying,
Never finding full repast,
Till I eat the world at last.
ON THE GALLOWS.
THERE is a gate, we know full well,
*
That stands 'twixt heaven and earth and hell,
Where many for a passage venture,
Yet very few are fond to enter:
Although 'tis open night and day,
They for that reason shun this way;
Both dukes and lords abhor its wood,
They can't come near it for their blood.
What other way they take to go,
Another time I'll let you know.
Yet commoners with greatest ease
Can find an entrance when they please.
The poorest hither march in state
(Or they can never pass the gate)
Like Roman generals triumphant,
And then they take a turn and jump on't.
If gravest parsons here advance,
They cannot pass before they dance;
There's not a soul that does resort here
But strips himself to pay the porter.
ON THE VOWELS.
WE are little airy creatures,
All of different voice and features;
One of us in glass is set,
One of us you'll find in jet ;
T'other you may see in tin,
And the fourth a box within;
If the fifth you should pursue,
It can never fly from you.
ON SNOW.
FROM heaven I fall, though from earth I begin;
No lady alive can show such a skin.
I'm bright as an angel, and light as a feather,
But heavy and dark when you squeeze me together.
Though candour and truth in my aspect I bear,
Yet many poor creatures I help to ensnare.
Though so much of heaven appears in my make,
The foulest impressions I easily take.
My parent and I produce one another,
The mother the daughter, the daughter the mother.
ON A CANNON.
BEGOTTEN, and born, and dying with noise,
The terror of women, and pleasure of boys,
Like the fiction of poets concerning the wind,
I'm chiefly unruly when strongest confined.
For silver and gold I don't trouble my head,
But all I delight in is pieces of lead;
Except when I trade with a ship or a town,
Why then I make pieces of iron go down.
One property more I would have you remark,
No lady was ever more fond of a spark ;
The moment I get one my soul's all a-fire,
And I roar out my joy, and in transport expire.
ON A PAIR OF DICE.
WE are little brethren twain,
Arbiters of loss and gain.
Many to our counters run,
Some are made and some undone:
But men find it to their cost,
Few are made, but numbers lost.
Though we play them tricks for ever,
Yet they always hope our favour.
ON A CANDLE.
To lady Carteret.
Or all inhabitants on earth,
To man alone I owe my birth,
And yet the cow, the sheep, the bee,
Are all my parents more than he :
I, a virtue strange and rare,
Make the fairest look more fair
;
And myself, which yet is rarer,
Growing old, grow still the fairer.
Like sots, alone I'm dull enough,
When dosed with smoke and smear'd with snuff;
But, in the midst of mirth and wine,
I with double lustre shine.
Emblem of the fair am I,
Polish'd neck and radiant eye;
In my eye my greatest grace,
Emblem of the Cyclops' race;
Metals I like them subdue,
Slave like them to Vulcan too ;
Emblem of a monarch old,
Wise, and glorious to behold;
Wasted he appears, and pale,
Watching for the public weal:
Emblem of the bashful dame,
That in secret feeds her flame,
Often aiding to impart
All the secrets of her heart;
Various is my bulk and hue,
Big like Bess, and small like Sue :
Now brown and burnish'd like a nut,
At other times a very slut;
Often fair, and soft, and tender,
Taper, tall, and smooth, and slender:
Like Flora, deck'd with fairest flowers,
Like Phœbus, guardian of the hours:
But whatever be my dress,
Greater be my size or less,
Swelling be my shape or small,
Like thyself I shine in all.
Clouded if my face is seen,
My complexion wan and green,
Languid like a love-sick maid,
Steel affords me present aid.
Soon or late, my date is done,
As my thread of life is spun,
Yet to cut the fatal thread
Oft revives my drooping head;
Yet I perish in my prime,
Seldom by the death of time;
Die like lovers as they gaze,
Die for those I live to please;
Pine unpitied to my urn,
Nor warm the fair for whom I burn;
Unpitied, unlamented too,
Die like all that look on you.
TO LADY CARTERET.
By Dr. Delany.
I REACH all things near me, and far off to boot,
Without stretching a finger or stirring a foot;
I take them all in too, to add to your wonder,
Though many and various, and large and asunder,
RIDDLES.
745
Without jostling or crowding they pass side by side
Through a wonderful wicket not half an inch wide;
Then I lodge them at ease in a very large store,
Of no breadth or length, with a thousand things more.
All this I can do without witchcraft or charm,
Though sometimes, they say, I bewitch and do harm;
Though cold, I inflame; and though quiet, invade
And nothing can shield from my spell but a shade.
A thief that has robb'd you, or done you disgrace,
In magical mirror I'll show you his face :
Nay, if you'll believe what the poets have said,
They'll tell you I kill, and can call back the dead.
Like conjurers safe in my circle I dwell;
I love to look black too, it heightens my spell;
Though my magic is mighty in every hue,
Who see all my power must see it in You.
ANSWERED BY DR. SWIFT.
WITH half an eye your riddle I spy,
I observe your wicket hemm'd in by a thicket,
And whatever passes is strain'd through glasses.
You say it is quiet: I flatly deny it.
It wanders about, without stirring out;
No passion so weak but gives it a tweak;
Love, joy, and devotion, set it always in motion.
And as for the tragic effects of its magic,
When you say it can kill, or revive at its will,
The dead are all sound, and they live above ground:
After all you have writ, it cannot be wit;
Which plainly does follow, since it flies from Apollo.
Its cowardice such, it cries at a touch;
'Tis a perfect milksop, grows drunk with a drop.
Another great fault, it cannot bear salt;
And a hair can disarm it of every charm.
TO LADY CARTERET.
By Dr. Swift.
FROM India's burning clime I'm brought,
With cooling gales like zephyrs fraught.
Nor Iris, when she paints the sky,
Can show more different hues than I
Nor can she change her form so fast;
I'm now a sail, and now a mast.
;
I here am red, and there am green,
A beggar there, and here a queen.
I sometimes live in house of hair,
And oft in hand of lady fair.
I please the young, I grace the old,
And am at once both hot and cold.
Say what I am then, if you can,
And find the rhyme, and you're the man.
ANSWERED BY DR. SHERIDAN.
YOUR house of hair, and lady's hand,
At first did put me to a stand.
I have it now-'tis plain enough-
Your hairy business is a muff.
Your engine fraught with cooling gales,
At once so like your masts and sails;
And for the rhyme to you're the man,
What fits it better than a fan?
A RIDDLE.
I'M wealthy and poor,
I'm empty and full,
I'm humble and proud,
I'm witty and dull.
I'm foul and yet fair;
I'm old, and yet young:
I lie with Moll Kerr,
And toast Mrs. Long.
ANSWER, BY MR. FR.
IN rigging he's rich, though in pocket he's poor;
He cringes to courtiers, and cocks to the cits;
Like twenty he dresses, but looks like threescore ;
He's a wit to the fools and a fool to the wits.
Of wisdom he's empty, but full of conceit;
[scab;
He paints and perfumes while he rots with the
'Tis a beau you may swear by his sense and his gait;
He boasts of a beauty and lies with a drab.
SIR,
A LETTER TO DR. HELSHAM.
Pray discruciate what follows.
THE dullest beast, and gentleman's liquor,
When young is often due to the vicar.
The dullest of beasts, and swine's delight,
Make up a bird very swift of flight.
The dullest beast, when high in stature,
And another of royal nature,
For breeding is a useful creature.
The dullest beast, and a party distress'd,
When too long, is bad at best.
The dullest beast, and the saddle it wears,
Is good for partridge, not for hares.
The dullest beast, and kind voice of a cat,
Will make a horse go, though he be not fat.
The dullest of beasts and of birds in the air,
Is that by which all Irishmen swear.
The dullest beast, and famed college for Teagues,
Is a person very unfit for intrigues.
The dullest beast, and a cobbler's tool,
With a boy that is only fit for school,
In summer is very pleasant and cool.
The dullest beast, and that which you kiss,
May break a limb of master or miss.
Of serpent kind, and what at distance kills,
Poor mistress Dingley oft hath felt its bills.
The dullest beast, and eggs unsound,
Without it I rather would walk on the ground.
The dullest beast, and what covers a house,
Without it a writer is not worth a louse.
The dullest beast, and scandalous vermin,
Of roast or boil'd, to the hungry is charming.
The dullest beast, and what's cover'd with crust
There's nobody but a fool that would trust.
The dullest beast, and mending highways,
Is to a horse an evil disease.
The dullest beast, and a hole in the ground,
Will dress a dinner worth five pound.
The dullest beast, and what doctors pretend,
The cook-maid often has by the end.
The dullest beast, and fish for lent,
May give you a blow you'll for ever repent.
The dullest beast, and a shameful jeer,
Without it a lady should never appear.
Wednesday Night.
I writ all these before I went to bed. Pray ex-
plain them for me, because I cannot do it.
PROBATUR ALITER.
A LONG-EAR'd beast, and a field-house for cattle,
Among the coals doth often rattle.
A long-ear'd beast, a bird that prates,
The bridegrooms' first gifts to their mates,
Is by all pious christians thought
In clergymen the greatest fault.
A long-ear'd beast, and woman of Endor,
If your wife be a scold, that will mend her.
746
A PASTORAL DIALOGUE.
With a long-ear'd beast, and medicine's use,
Cooks make their fowl look tight and spruce.
A long-ear'd beast, and holy fable,
Strengthens the shoes of half the rabble.
A long-ear'd beast, and Rhenish wine,
Lies in the lap of ladies fine.
A long-ear'd beast, and Flanders college,
Is Dr. T―l, to my knowledge.
A long-ear'd beast, and building knight,
Censorious people do in spite.
A long-ear'd beast, and bird of night,
We sinners are too apt to slight.
A long-ear'd beast, and shameful vermin,
A judge will eat, though clad in ermine.
A long-ear'd beast, and Irish cart,
Can leave a mark and give a smart.
A long-ear'd beast, in mud to lie
No bird in air so swift can fly.
A long-ear'd beast, and a sputt'ring old Whig,
I wish he were in it, and dancing a jig.
A long-ear'd beast, and liquor to write,
Is a damnable smell both morning and night.
A long-ear'd beast, and the child of a sheep,
At Whist they will make a desperate sweep.
A beast long-car'd, and till midnight you stay,
Will cover a house much better than clay.
A long-ear'd beast, and the drink you love best,
You call him a sloven in earnest for jest.
A long-ear'd beast, and the sixteenth letter,
I'd not look at all unless I look'd better.
A long-ear'd beast give me, and eggs unsound,
Or else I will not ride one inch of ground.
A long-ear'd beast, another name for jeer,
To ladies' skins there nothing comes so near.
A long-car'd beast, and kind noise of a cat,
Is useful in journeys, take notice of that.
A long-ear'd beast, and what seasons your beef,
On such an occasion the law gives relief.
A long-ear'd beast, a thing that force must drive in,
Bears up his house, that's of his own contriving.
POEMS
COMPOSED AT MARKET HILL.
A PASTORAL DIALOGUE. 1728.
DERMOT, SHEELAH.
A NYMPH and swain, Sheelah and Dermot hight,
Who wont to weed the court of Gosford knight,a
While each with stubbed knife removed the roots
That raised between the stones their daily shoots,
As at their work they sate in counterview,
With mutual beauty smit, their passion grew.
Sing, heavenly Muse, in sweetly-flowing strain,
The soft endearments of the nymph and swain.
DERMOT.
[twixt;
My love to Sheelah is more firmly fix'd
Than strongest weeds that grow those stones be-
My spud these nettles from the stones can part;
No knife so keen to weed thee from my heart.
SHEELAH.
My love for gentle Dermot faster grows
Than yon tall dock that rises to thy nose.
Cut down the dock, 'twill sprout again; but, O!
Love rooted out, again will never grow.
a Sir Arthur Acheson.
DERMOT.
No more that brier thy tender leg shall rake
(I spare the thistles for sir Arthur's sake):
Sharp are the stones; take thou this rushy mat;
The hardest bum will bruise with sitting squat.
SHEELAH.
Thy breeches, torn behind, stand gaping wide;
This petticoat shall save thy dear backside:
Nor need I blush; although you feel it wet,
Dermot, I vow, 'tis nothing else but sweat.
DERMOT.
At an old stubborn root I chanced to tug,
When the dean threw me this tobacco-plug;
A longer ha'p'orthb never did I see;
This, dearest Sheelah, thou shalt share with me.
SHEELAH.
In at the pantry door this morn I slipp'd,
And from the shelf a charming crust I whipp'd;
Dennis was out, and I got hither safe;
C
And thou, my dear, shalt have the bigger half.
DERMOT.
When you saw Tady at long bullets play,
You sate and loused him all a sunshine day;
How could you, Sheelah, listen to his tales,
Or crack such lice as his between your nails?
SHEELAH.
When you with Oonah stood behind a ditch,
I peep'd, and saw you kiss the dirty bitch :
Dermot, how could you touch these nasty sluts?
I almost wish'd this spud were in your guts.
DERMOT.
If Oonah once I kiss'd, forbear to chide:
Her aunt's my gossip by my father's side:
But, if I ever touch her lips again,
May I be doom'd for life to weed in rain!
SHEELAH.
Dermot, I swear, though Tady's locks could hold
Ten thousand lice, and every louse was gold,
Him on my lap you never more shall see ;
Or may I lose my weeding-knife-and thee !
d
DERMOT.
O could I earn for thee, my lovely lass,
A pair of brogues to bear thee dry to mass!
But see, where Norah with the sowinse comes-
Then let us rise, and rest our weary bums.
THE GRAND QUESTION DEBATED:
WHETHER HAMILTON'S BAWN SHOULD BE TURNED INTO
A BARRACK OR MALT-HOUSE. 1729.
THUS spoke to my lady the knightf full of care,
"Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.
This Hamilton's bawn,s while it sticks in my hand,
I lose by the house what I get by the land;
But how to dispose of it to the best bidder,
For a barrack or malt-house we now must consider.
"First, let me suppose I make it a malt-house,
Here I have computed the profit will fall t' us:
There's nine hundred pounds for labour and grain,
I increase it to twelve, so three hundred remain;
A handsome addition for wine and good cheer,
Three dishes a-day, and three hogsheads a-year;
With a dozen large vessels my vault shall be stored,
No little scrub joint shall come on my board;
a Who was a great lover of Scotland.
Halfpenny-worth.
a Shoes with flat low heels.
Sir Arthur's butler.
e A sort of flummery.
Sir Arthur Acheson, at whose seat this was written.
A large old house, two miles from sir Arthur's seat.
THE GRAND QUESTION DEBATED.
747
And you and the dean no more shall combine
To stint me at night to one bottle of wine;
Nor shall I, for his humour, permit you to purloin
A stone and a quarter of beef from my sirloin.
If I make it a barrack the crown is my tenant;
My dear, I have ponder'd again and again on't:
In poundage and drawbacks I lose half my rent;
Whatever they give me, I must be content,
Or join with the court in every debate ;
And rather than that, I would lose my estate."
Thus ended the knight; thus began his meek wife :
"It must and it shall be a barrack, my life.
I'm grown a mere mopus; no company comes.
But a rabble of tenants and rusty dull rums.
With parsons what lady can keep herself clean?
I'm all over daub'd when I sit by the dean.
But if you will give us a barrack, my dear,
The captain I'm sure will always come here;
I then shall not value his deanship a straw,
For the captain, I warrant, will keep him in awe;
Or, should he pretend to be brisk and alert,
Will tell him that chaplains should not be so pert;
That men of his coat should be minding their prayers,
And not among ladies to give themselves airs.'
Thus argued my lady, but argued in vain;
The knight his opinion resolved to maintain.
But Hannah, who listen'd to all that was pass'd,
And could not endure so vulgar a taste,
As soon as her ladyship call'd to be dress'd,
Cried, "Madam, why surely my master's possess'd.
Sir Arthur the maltster! how fine it will sound!
I'd rather the bawn were sunk under ground.
But, madam, I guess'd there would never come good,
When I saw him so often with Darby and Wood.c
And now my dream's out; for I was a-dream'd
That I saw a huge rat-O dear, how I scream'd!
And after, methought, I had lost my new shoes;
And Molly, she said, I should hear some ill news.
"Dear madam, had you but the spirit to teaze,
You might have a barrack whenever you please;
And, madam, I always believed you so stout,
That for twenty denials you would not give out.
If I had a husband like him, I purtest,
Till he gave me my will, I would give him no rest;
And, rather than come in the same pair of sheets
With such a cross man, I would lie in the streets:
But, madam, I beg you, contrive and invent,
And worry him out till he gives his consent.
Dear madam, whene'er of a barrack I think,
An I were to be hang'd, I can't sleep a wink :
For if a new crotchet comes into my brain,
I can't get it out, though I'd never so fain.
I fancy already a barrack contrived
At Hamilton's bawn, and the troop is arrived;
Of this to be sure, sir Arthur has warning,
And waits on the captain betimes the next morning.
"Now see when they meet how their honours
behave:
[slave;
Noble captain, your servant'-'Sir Arthur, your|
You honour me much'-' The honour is mine.'-
'Twas a sad rainy night'-' But the morning is
fine.'-
[service.'-
Pray, how does my lady? My wife's at your
'I think I have seen her picture by Jervas.'-
'Good morrow, good captain'-I'll wait on you
down'-
C
'You shan't stir a foot'' You'll think me a clown.'.
'For all the world, captain, not half an inch farther'
'You must be obeyed-Your servant, sir Arthur!
My humble respects to my lady unknown.'—
'I hope you will use my house as your own.'"
A cant word in Ireland for a poor country clergyman.
My lady's waiting-woman.
• Two of sir Arthur's managers.
"Go bring me my smock, and leave off your prate,
Thou hast certainly gotten a cup in thy pate."
"Pray, madam, be quiet: what was it I said?
You had like to have put it quite out of my head.
Next day, to be sure, the captain will come,
At the head of his troop, with trumpet and drum,
Now, madam, observe how he marches in state:
The man with the kettle-drum enters the gate :
Dub, dub, adub, dub. The trumpeters follow.
Tantara, tantara; while all the boys holla.
See now comes the captain all daub'd with gold lace :
O la! the sweet gentleman! look in his face
;
And see how he rides like a lord of the land,
With a fine flaming sword that he holds in his hand
;
And his horse, the dear creter, it prances and rears;
With ribbons in knots at his tail and its ears:
At last comes the troop, by word of command,
Draw up in our court; when the captain cries, STAND!
Your ladyship lifts up the sash to be seen,
For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen.
The captain, to show he is proud of the favour,
Looks up to your window, and cocks up his beaver
(His beaver is cock'd: pray, madam, mark that;
For a captain of horse never takes off his hat,
Because he has never a hand that is idle, [bridle):
For the right holds the sword, and the left holds the
Then flourishes thrice his sword in the air,
As a compliment due to a lady so fair;
(How I tremble to think of the blood it has spilt!)
Then he lowers down the point, and kisses the hilt.
Your ladyship smiles, and thus you begin :
'Pray, captain, be pleased to alight and walk in.'
The captain salutes you with congée profound,
And your ladyship curtsies half way to the ground.
'Kit, run to your master, and bid him come to us;
I'm sure he'll be proud of the honour you do us;
And, captain, you'll do us the favour to stay,
And take a short dinner here with us to-day :
You're heartily welcome; but as for good cheer,
You come in the very worst time of the year;
If I had expected so worthy a guest-'
Lord, madam! your ladyship sure is in jest ;
You banter me, madam; the kingdom must grant-'
'You officers, captain, are so complaisant !'".
"Hist, hussey, I think I hear somebody coming”—
"No, madam, 'tis only sir Arthur a-humming,
To shorten my tale, (for I hate a long story,)
The captain at dinner appears in his glory;
The dean and the doctor have humbled their pride,
For the captain's entreated to sit by your side;
And, because he's their betters, you carve for him
The parsons for envy are ready to burst.
[first;
The servants, amazed, are scarce ever able
To keep off their eyes as they wait at the table ;
And Molly and I have thrust in our nose,
To peep at the captain in all his fine clo’es.
Dear madam, be sure he's a fine-spoken man,
Do but hear on the clergy how glib his tongue ran;
And, madam,' says he, if such dinners you give,
You'll ne'er want for parsons as long as you live.
I ne'er knew a parson without a good nose;
But the devil's as welcome, wherever he goes:
G-d d―n me! they bid us reform and repent;
But, z-s! by their looks, they never keep Lent:
Mister curate, for all your grave looks, I'm afraid
You cast a sheep's eye on her ladyship's maid :
I wish she would lend you her pretty white hand
In mending your cassock and smoothing your band.'
(For the dean was so shabby, and look'd like a ninny
That the captain supposed he was curate to Jinny.)
Whenever you see a cassock and gown,
A hundred to one but it covers a clown.
Dr. Jinny, a clergyman in the neighbourhood.
718
REASONS FOR NOT BUILDING AT DRAPIER'S-HILL.
Observe how a parson comes into a room;
G-d d―n me, he hobbles as bad as my groom;
A scholard, when just from his college broke loose,
Can hardly tell how to cry bo to a goose;
Your Noveds, and Bluturks, and Omurs,a and stuff,
By G-, they don't signify this pinch of snuff.
To give a young gentleman right education,
The army's the only good school in the nation :
My schoolmaster call'd me a dunce and a fool,
But at cuffs I was always the cock of the school;
I never could take to my book for the blood o' me,
And the puppy confess'd he expected no good o' me.
He caught me one morning coquetting his wife,
But he maul'd me, I ne'er was so maul'd in my life:
So I took to the road, and, what's very odd,
The first man I robb'd was a parson, by G-.
Now, madam, you'll think it a strange thing to say,
But the sight of a book makes me sick to this day.'
"Never since I was born did I hear so much wit,
And, madam, I laugh'd till I thought I should split.
So then you look'd scornful, and sniff'd at the dean,
As who should say, 'Now am I skinnyb and lean?'
But he durst not so much as once open his lips,
And the doctor was plaguily down in the hips."
Thus merciless Hannah ran on in her talk, [walk?"
Till she heard the dean call," Will your ladyship
Her ladyship answers, "I'm just coming down :"
Then, turning to Hannah, and forcing a frown,
Although it was plain in her heart she was glad,
Cried, "Hussy, why sure the wench is gone mad!
How could these chimeras get into your brains?—
Come hither and take this old gown for your pains.
But the dean, if this secret should come to his ears,
Will never have done with his gibes and his jeers :
For your life, not a word of the matter I charge ye;
Give me but a barrack, a fig for the clergy.”
DRAPIER'S-HILL. 1730,
WE give the world to understand
Our thriving dean has purchased land;
A purchase which will bring him clear
Above his rent four pounds a-year;
Provided to improve the ground
He will but add two hundred pound;
And from his endless hoarded store,
To build a house, five hundred more.
Sir Arthur, too, shall have his will,
And call the mansion Drapier's-hill;
That, when a nation, long enslaved,
Forgets by whom it once was saved,
When none the drapier's praise shall sing,
His signs aloft no longer swing,
His medals and his prints forgotten,
And all his handkerchiefsc are rotten,
His famous letters made waste paper,
This hill may keep the name of drapier;
In spite of envy, flourish still,
And Drapier's vie with Cooper's-hill.
THE DEAN'S REASONS
FOR NOT BUILDING AT DRAPIER'S-HILL.
I WILL not build on yonder mount
And, should you call me to account,
Consulting with myself, I find
;
It was no levity of mind.
Whate'er I promised or intended,
No fault of mine, the scheme is ended;
Nor can you tax me as unsteady-
I have a hundred causes ready;
• Ovids, Plutarchs, Homers.
b Nicknames for my lady.
• Medals were cast (see the Drapier's halfpenny in this edi-
tion), many signs hung up, and handkerchiefs made, with de-
vices in honour of the dean, under the name of M. B., Drapier.
All risen since that flattering time
When Drapier's-hill appear'd in rhyme.
I am, as now too late I find,
The greatest cully of mankind;
The lowest boy in Martin's school
May turn and wind me like a fool.
How could I form so wild a vision,
To seek, in deserts, fields Elysian ?
To live in fear, suspicion, variance,
With thieves, fanatics, and barbarians?
But here my lady will object;
Your deanship ought to recollect
That, near the knight of Gosford placed,
Whom you allow a man of taste,
Your intervals of time to spend
With so conversable a friend,
It would not signify a pin
Whatever climate you were in.
'Tis true, but what advantage comes
To me from all a usurer's plums;
Though I should see him twice a-day,
And am his neighbour 'cross the way:
If all my rhetoric must fail
To strike him for a pot of ale?
Thus, when the learned and the wise.
Conceal their talents from our eyes,
And from deserving friend withhold
Their gifts, as misers do their gold,
Their knowledge to themselves confined
Is the same avarice of mind ;
Nor makes their conversation better,
Than if they never knew a letter.
Such is the fate of Gosford's knight,
Who keeps his wisdom out of sight;
Whose uncommunicative heart
Will scarce one precious word impart:
Still rapt in speculations deep,
His outward senses fast asleep;
Who, while I talk, a song will hum,
Or with his fingers beat the drum ;
Beyond the skies transports his mind,
And leaves a lifeless corpse behind.
But, as for me, who ne'er could clamber high
To understand Malebranche or Cambray :
Who send my mind (as I believe) less
Than others do, on errands sleeveless;
Can listen to a tale humdrum,
And with attention read Tom Thumb;
My spirit's with my body progging,
Both hand in hand together jogging;
Sunk over head and ears in matter,
Nor can of metaphysics smatter;
Am more diverted with a quibble
Than dream of words intelligible;
And think all notions too abstracted
Are like the ravings of a crack'd head;
What intercourse of minds can be
Betwixt the knight sublime and me,
If when I talk, as talk I must,
It is but prating to a bust?
Where friendship is by Fate design'd,
It forms a union in the mind:
But here I differ from the knight
In every point, like black and white:
For none can say that ever yet
We both in one opinion met:
Not in philosophy, or ale
In state affairs, or planting kale;
In rhetoric, or picking straws;
In roasting larks, or making laws;
In public schemes, or catching flies;
In parliaments, or pudding-pies.
The neighbours wonder why the knight
Should in a country life delight,
A PANEGYRIC ON THE DEAN.
749
Who not one pleasure entertains
To cheer the solitary scenes:
His guests are few, his visits rare;
Nor uses time, nor time will spare ;
Nor rides, nor walks, nor hunts, nor fowls,
Nor plays at cards, or dice, or bowls;
But, seated in an easy-chair,
Despises exercise and air.
His rural walks he ne'er adorns;
Here poor Pomona sits on thorns:
And there neglected Flora settles
Her bum upon a bed of nettles.
Those thankless and officious cares
I used to take in friends' affairs,
From which I never could refrain,
And have been often chid in vain ;
From these I am recover'd quite,
At least in what regards the knight.
Preserve his health, his store increase;
May nothing interrupt his peace!
But now let all his tenants round
First milk his cows, and after pound;
Let every cottager conspire
To cut his hedges down for fire;
The naughty boys about the village
His crabs and sloes may freely pillage;
He still may keep a pack of knaves
To spoil his work, and work by halves;
His meadows may be dug by swine,
It shall be no concern of mine
;
For why should I continue still
To serve a friend against his will?
A PANEGYRIC ON THE DEAN,
IN THE PERSON OF A LADY IN THE NORTH.ª 1730.
RESOLVED my gratitude to show,
Thrice reverend dean, for all I owe,
Too long I have my thanks delay'd;
Your favours left too long unpaid;
But now, in all our sex's name,
My artless Muse shall sing your fame.
Indulgent you to female kind,
To all their weaker sides are blind:
Nine more such champions as the dean
Would soon restore our ancient reign;
How well to win the ladies' hearts,
You celebrate their wit and parts!
How have I felt my spirits raised,
By you so oft, so highly praised!
Transform'd by your convincing tongue
To witty, beautiful, and young,
I hope to quit that awkward shame,
Affected by each vulgar dame,
To modesty a weak pretence;
And soon grow pert on men of sense;
To show my face with scornful air;
Let others match it if they dare.
Impatient to be out of debt,
O, may I never once forget
The bard who humbly deigns to choose
Me for the subject of his Muse!
Behind my back, before my nose,
He sounds my praise in verse and prose.
My heart with emulation burns,
To make you suitable returns;
My gratitude the world shall know;
And see, the printer's boy below;
Ye hawkers all, your voices lift;
"A Panegyric on Dean Swift!"
And then, to mend the matter still,
"By Lady Anne, of Market-Hill!"
a The lady of sir Arthur Acheson.
I thus begin my grateful Muse
Salutes the dean in different views;
Dean, butler, usher, jester, tutor;
Robert and Darby'sa coadjutor;
And, as you in commission sit,
To rule the dairy next to Kit;b
In each capacity I mean
To sing your praise. And first as dean :
Envy must own, you understand your
Precedence, and support your grandeur:
Nor of your rank will bate an ace,
Except to give dean Daniel place.
In you such dignity appears,
So suited to your state and years!
With ladies what a strict decorum!
With what devotion you adore 'em!
Treat me with so much complaisance,
As fits a princess in romance!
By your example and assistance,
The fellows learn to know their distance.
Sir Arthur, since you set the pattern,
No longer calls me snipe and slattern;
Nor dares he, though he were a duke,
Offend me with the least rebuke.
Proceed we to your preachinge next:
How nice you split the hardest text!
How your superior learning shines
Above our neighbouring dull divines !
At Beggar's Opera not so full pit
Is seen as when you mount our pulpit.
Consider now your conversation:
Regardful of your age and station,
You ne'er were known, by passion stirr'd,
To give the least offensive word:
But still, whene'er you silence break,
Watch every syllable you speak :
Your style so clear, and so concise,
We never ask to hear you twice.
But then a parson so genteel,
So nicely clad from head to heel;
So fine a gown, a band so clean,
As well become St. Patrick's dean,
Such reverential awe express,
That cowboys know you by your dress!
Then, if our neighbouring friends come here,
How proud are we when you appear,
With such address and graceful port
As clearly shows you bred at court!
Now raise your spirits, Mr. Dean,
I lead you to a nobler scene.
When to the vault you walk in state,
In quality of butler's mate;
You next to Dennis bear the sway:
To you we often trust the key:
Nor can he judge with all his art
So well what bottle holds a quart:
What pints may best for bottles pass,
Just to give every man his glass:
When proper to produce the best;
And what may serve a common guest.
With Dennis you did ne'er combine,
Not you, to steal your master's wine;
Except a bottle now and then,
To welcome brother serving-men;
But that is with a good design,
To drink sir Arthur's health and mine:
Your master's honour to maintain,
And get the like returns again.
Your usher's post must next be handled:
How blest am I by such a man led!
a The names of two overseers.
b My lady's footman.
• The author preached but once while he was there,
750
A PANEGYRIC ON THE DEAN.
Under whose wise and careful guardship
I now despise fatigue and hardship;
Familiar grown to dirt and wet,
Though draggled round, I scorn to fret:
From you my chamber-damsels learn
My broken hose to patch and darn.
Now as a jester I accost you;
Which never yet one friend has lost you.
You judge so nicely to a hair,
How far to go, and when to spare;
By long experience grown so wise,
Of every taste to know the size;
There's none so ignorant and weak
To take offence at what you speak.
Whene'er you joke, 'tis all a case
Whether with Dermot, or his grace;
With Teague O'Murphy, or an earl;
A duchess or a kitchen-girl.
With such dexterity you fit
Their several talents with your wit,
That Moll the chambermaid can smoke,
And Gahagan take every joke.
I now become your humble suitor
To let me praise you as my tutor.
Poor I, a savage bred and born,
By you instructed every morn,
Already have improved so well,
That I have almost learn'd to spell:
The neighbours who come here to dine
Admire to hear me speak so fine.
How enviously the ladies look
When they surprise me at my book!
And sure as they're alive at night,
As soon as gone will show their spite:
Good lord! what can my lady mean
Conversing with that rusty dean?
She's grown so nice, and so penurious,
With Socrates and Epicurius!
How could she sit the livelong day,
Yet never ask us once to play?
But I admire your patience most;
That when I'm duller than a post,
Nor can the plainest word pronounce,
You neither fume, nor fret, nor flounce ;
Are so indulgent, and so mild,
As if I were a darling child.
So gentle is your whole proceeding,
That I could spend my life in reading.
You merit new employments daily;
Our thatcher, ditcher, gardener, baily.
And to a genius so extensive
No work is grievous or offensive :
Whether your fruitful fancy lies
To make for pigs convenient sties;
Or ponder long with ancient thought
To banish rats that haunt our vault :
Nor have you grumbled, reverend dean,
To keep our poultry sweet and clean;
To sweep the mansion-house they dwell in,
And cure the rank unsavoury smelling.
Now enter as the dairy handmaid :
Such charming butter" never man made.
Let others with fanatic face
Talk of their milk for babes of grace:
From tubs their snuffling nonsense utter;
Thy milk shall make us tubs of butter.
The bishop with his foot may burn it,c
But with his hand the dean can churn it.
How are the servants overjoy'd
To see thy deanship thus employ'd!
The clown that cut down the old thorn at Market-hill.
A way of making butter for breakfast, by filling a bottle
with cream, and shaking it till the butter comes.
It is a common saying, when the milk burns, that the devil
or the bishop has set his foot in it.
Instead of poring on a book,
Providing butter for the cook!
Three morning hours you toss and shake
The bottle till your fingers ache;
Hard is the toil, nor small the art,
The butter from the whey to part:
Behold a frothy substance rise;
Be cautious or your bottle flies.
The butter comes, our fears are ceased:
And out you squeeze an ounce at least.
Your reverence thus, with like success,
(Nor is your skill or labour less,)
When bent upon some smart lampoon,
Will toss and turn your brain till noon;
Which, in its jumblings round the skull,
Dilates and makes the vessel full:
While nothing comes but froth at first,
You think your giddy head will burst;
But, squeezing out four lines in rhyme,
Are largely paid for all your time.
But you have raised your generous mind
To works of more exalted kind.
Palladio was not half so skill'd in
The grandeur or the art of building.
Two temples of magnific size
Attract the curious traveller's eyes,
That might be envied by the Greeks;
Raised up by you in twenty weeks:
Here gentle goddess Cloacine
Receives all offerings at her shrine.
In separate cells, the he's and she's
Here pay their vows on bended knees ·
For 'tis profane when sexes mingle,
And every nymph must enter single;
And when she feels an inward motion,
Come fill'd with reverence and devotion.
The bashful maid, to hide her blush,
Shall creep no more behind a bush,
Here unobserved she boldly goes,
As who should say, to pluck a rose.
Ye, who frequent this hallow'd scene,
Be not ungrateful to the dean;
But duly, ere you leave your station,
Offer to him a pure libation,
Or of his own or Smedley's lay,
Or billet-doux, or lock of hay :
And, O! may all who hither come
Return with unpolluted thumb!
Yet, when your lofty domes I praise,
I sigh to think of ancient days.
Permit me then to raise my style,
And sweetly moralise awhile.
Thee, bounteous goddess Cloacine,
To temples why do we confine?
Forbid in open air to breathe,
Why are thine altars fix'd beneath?
When Saturn ruled the skies alone,
(That golden age to gold unknown,)
This earthly globe, to thee assign'd,
Received the gifts of all mankind.
Ten thousand altars smoking round
Were built to thee with offerings crown'd;
And here thy daily votaries placed
Their sacrifice with zeal and haste:
The margin of a purling stream
Sent up to thee a grateful steam;
Though sometimes thou wert pleased to wink,
If Naiads swept them from the brink:
Or where appointing lovers rove,
The shelter of a shady grove;
Or offer'd in some flowery vale,
Were wafted by a gentle gale,
There many a flower abstersive grew,
Thy favourite flowers of yellow hue;
A PANEGYRIC, &c.-TWELVE ARTICLES.
751
The crocus and the daffodil,
The cowslip soft, and sweet jonquil.
But when at last usurping Jove
Old Saturn from his empire drove,
Then Gluttony, with greasy paws,
Her napkin pinn'd up to her jaws,
With watery chops, and wagging chin
Braced like a drum her oily skin;
Wedged in a spacious elbow-chair,
And on her plate a treble share,
As if she ne'er could have enough,
Taught harmless man to cram and stuff.
She sent her priests in wooden shoes
From haughty Gaul to make ragoûts;
Instead of wholesome bread and cheese,
To dress their soups and fricassees;
And for our home-bred British cheer,
Botargo, catsup, and caviare.
This bloated harpy, sprung from hell,
Confined thee, goddess, to a cell:
Sprung from her womb that impious line,
Contemners of thy rites divine.
First, lolling Sloth, in woollen cap,
Taking her after-dinner nap:
Pale Dropsy, with a sallow face,
Her belly burst, and slow her pace:
And lordly Gout, wrapp'd up in fur,
And wheezing Asthma, loth to stir:
Voluptuous Ease, the child of wealth,
Infecting thus our hearts by stealth.
None seek thee now in open air,
To thee no verdant altars rear;
But in their cells and vaults obscene
Present a sacrifice unclean;
From whence unsavoury vapours rose,
Offensive to thy nicer nose.
Ah! who, in our degenerate days,
As nature prompts, his offering pays?
Here nature never difference made
Between the sceptre and the spade.
Ye great ones, why will ye disdain
To pay your tribute on the plain?
Why will you place in lazy pride
Your altars near your couches' side;
When from the homeliest earthen ware
Are sent up offerings more sincere,
Than where the haughty duchess locks
Her silver vase in cedar box?
Yet some devotion still remains
Among our harmless northern swains,
Whose offerings, placed in golden ranks,
Adorn our crystal rivers' banks;
Nor seldom grace the flowery downs
With spiral tops and copple crowns;
Or gilding in a sunny morn
The humble branches of a thorn.
So poets sing, with golden bough
The Trojan hero paid his vow.
Hither, by luckless error led,
The crude consistence oft I tread;
Here when my shoes are out of case,
Unweeting gild the tarnish'd lace;
Here, by the sacred bramble tinged,
My petticoat is doubly fringed.
Be witness for me, nymph divine,
I never robb'd thee with design;
Nor will the zealous Hannah pout
To wash thy injured offering out.
But stop, ambitious Muse, in time,
Nor dwell on subjects too sublime.
In vain on lofty heels I tread,
Aspiring to exalt my head;
With hoop expanded wide and light,
In vain I 'tempt too high a flight.
Me Phœbus, in a midnight dream
Accosting, said, "Go shake your cream.a
Be humbly minded, know your post;
Sweeten your tea, and watch your toast.
Thee best befits a lowly style;
Teach Dennis how to stir the guile ;"
With Peggy Dixone thoughtful sit,
Contriving for the pot and spit.
Take down thy proudly swelling sails,
And rub thy teeth and pare thy nails;
At nicely carving show thy wit;
But ne'er presume to eat a bit;
Turn every way thy watchful eye,
And every guest be sure to ply :
Let never at your board be known
An empty plate, except your own.
Be these thy arts; nor higher aim
Than what befits a rural dame.
"But Cloacina, goddess bright,
Sleek claims her as his right;
And Smedley, flower of all divines,
Shall sing the dean in Smedley's lines.”
TWELVE ARTICLES.
I. LEST it may more quarrels breed,
I will never hear you read.
II. By disputing, I will never,
To convince you once endeavour.
III. When a paradox you stick to,
I will never contradict you.
IV. When I talk and you are heedless,
I will show no anger needless.
V. When your speeches are absurd,
I will ne'er object a word.
VI. When you furious argue wrong,
I will grieve and hold my tongue.
VII. Not a jest or humorous story
Will I ever tell before ye :
To be chidden for explaining,
When you quite mistake the meaning.
VIII. Never more will I suppose
You can taste my verse or prose.
IX. You no more at me shall fret,
While I teach and you forget.
X. You shall never hear me thunder,
When you blunder on and blunder.
XI. Show your poverty of spirit,
And in dress place all your merit;
Give yourself ten thousand airs:
That with me shall break no squares.
XII. Never will I give advice
Till you please to ask me thrice:
Which if you in scorn reject,
"Twill be just as I expect.
Thus we both shall have our ends,
And continue special friends.
THE REVOLUTION AT MARKET-HILL.
1730.
FROM distant regions Fortune sends
An odd triumvirate of friends;
Where Phoebus pays a scanty stipend,
Where never yet a codling ripen'd:
Hither the frantic goddess draws
Three sufferers in a ruin'd cause:
a In the bottle, to make butter.
The quantity of ale or beer brewed at one time.
Mrs. Dixon, the housekeeper.
752
REVOLUTION AT MARKET-HILL-ROBIN AND HARRY.
By faction banish'd, here unite
a
A dean, a Spaniard," and a knight;c
Unite, but on conditions cruel;
The dean and Spaniard find it too well.
Condemn'd to live in service hard;
On either side his honour's guard :
The dean, to guard his honour's back,
Must build a castle at Drumlack ;
The Spaniard, sore against his will,
Must raise a fort at Market-Hill.
And thus the pair of humble gentry
At north and south are posted sentry;
While in his lordly castle fix'd,
The knight triumphant reigns betwixt :
And, what the wretches most resent,
To be his slaves, must pay him rent;
Attend him daily as their chief,
Decant his wine, and carve his beef.
O Fortune! 'tis a scandal for thee
To smile on those who are least worthy:
Weigh but the merits of the three,
His slaves have ten times more than he.
Proud baronet of Nova Scotia !
The dean and Spaniard must reproach ye:
Of their two fames the world enough rings:
Where are thy services and sufferings?
What if for nothing once you kiss'd,
Against the grain, a monarch's fist?
What if, among the courtly tribe,
You lost a place and saved a bribe ?
And then in surly mood came here,
To fifteen hundred pounds a-year,
And fierce against the Whigs harangued?
You never ventured to be hang'd.
How dare you treat your betters thus?
Are you to be compared with us?
Come, Spaniard, let us from our farms
Call forth our cottagers to arms:
Our forces let us both unite,
Attack the foe at left and right;
From Market-hill's exalted head,
Full northward let your troops be led;
While I from Drapier's-mount descend,
And to the south my squadrons bend.
New-river walk, with friendly shade,
Shall keep my host in ambuscade;
While you, from where the basin stands,
Shall scale the rampart with your bands.
Nor need we doubt the fort to win;
I hold intelligence within.
True, lady Anne no danger fears,
Brave as the Upton fan she wears;
Then, lest upon our first attack
Her valiant arm should force us back,
And we of all our hopes deprived,
I have a stratagem contrived.
By these embroider'd high-heel shoes
She shall be caught as in a noose:
So well contrived her toes to pinch,
She'll not have power to stir an inch :
These gaudy shoes must Hannah place
Direct before her lady's face;
The shoes put on, our faithful portress
Admits us in, to storm the fortress,
While tortured madam bound remains,
Like Montezume, in golden chains;
Or like a cat with walnuts shod,
Stumbling at every step she trod.
Sly hunters thus, in Borneo's isle,
To catch a monkey by a wile,
* Dr. Swift.
Colonel Harry Leslie, who served and lived long in Spain.
Sir Arthur Acheson.
The mimic animal amuse;
They place before him gloves and shoes;
Which when the brute puts awkward on,
All his agility is gone;
In vain to frisk or climb he tries;
The huntsmen seize the grinning prize.
But let us on our first assault
Secure the larder and the vault;
The valiant Dennis you must fix on,
And I'll engage with Peggy Dixon :
Then, if we once can seize the key
And chest that keeps my lady's tea,
They must surrender at discretion!
And, soon as we have gain'd possession,
We'll act as other conquerors do,
Divide the realm between us two;
Then (let me see), we'll make the knight
Our clerk, for he can read and write.
But must not think, I tell him that,
Like Lorimerc to wear his hat;
Yet, when we dine without a friend,
We'll place him at the lower end.
Madam, whose skill does all in dress lie,
May serve to wait on Mrs. Leslie;
But, lest it might not be so proper
That her own maid should overtop her,
To mortify the creature more,
We'll take her heels five inches lower.
For Hannah, when we have no need of her,
'Twill be our interest to get rid of her;
And when we execute our plot,
'Tis best to hang her on the spot;
As all your politicians wise,
Despatch the rogues by whom they rise.
ROBIN AND HARRY.
SONS OF DR. LESLY.
1730.
ROBIN to beggars with a curse
Throws the last shilling in his purse;
And when the coachman comes for pay,
The rogue must call another day.
Grave Harry, when the poor are pressing,
Gives them a penny and God's blessing;
But always careful of the main,
With twopence left, walks home in rain.
Robin from noon to night will prate,
Run out in tongue, as in estate ;
And, ere a twelvemonth and a day,
Will not have one new thing to say.
Much talking is not Harry's vice;
He need not tell a story twice :
And, if he always be so thrifty,
His fund may last to five-and-fifty.
It so fell out that cautious Harry,
As soldiers use, for love must marry,
And, with his dame, the ocean cross'd;
(All for Love, or the World well Lost!)
Repairs a cabin gone to ruin,
Just big enough to shelter two in;
And in his house if anybody come,
Will make them welcome to his modicum;
Where goody Julia milks the cows,
And boils potatoes for her spouse;
Or darns his hose, or mends his breeches,
While Harry's fencing up his ditches.
Robin, who ne'er his mind could fix
To live without a coach-and-six,
To patch his broken fortunes, found
A mistress worth five thousand pound;
Swears he could get her in an hour;
If gaffer Harry would endow her;
The butler. The housekeeper.
The agoat.
SWIFT AT SIR ARTHUR ACHESON'S-ON CUTTING DOWN A THORN.
And sell, to pacify his wrath,
A birthright for a mess of broth.
Young Harry, as all Europe knows,
Was long the quintessence of beaux ;
But, when espoused, he ran the fate
That must attend the married state;
From gold brocade and shining armour
Was metamorphosed to a farmer;
His grazier's coat with dirt besmear'd;
Nor twice a-week will shave his beard.
Old Robin, all his youth a sloven,
At fifty-two, when he grew loving,
Clad in a coat of paduasoy,
A flaxen wig, and waistcoat gay,
Powder'd from shoulder down to flank,
In courtly style addresses Frank ;
Twice ten years older than his wife,
Is doom'd to be a beau for life;
Supplying those defects by dress
Which I must leave the world to guess.
TO DEAN SWIFT.
BY SIR ARTHUR ACHESON.
1728.
GOOD cause have I to sing and vapour,
For I am landlord to the drapier:
He, that of every ear's the charmer
Now condescends to be my farmer,
And grace my villa with his strains;
Lives such a bard on British plains?
No, not in all the British court;
For none but witlings there resort,
Whose names and works (though dead) are made
Immortal by the Dunciad;
And, sure as monument of brass,
Their fame to future times shall pass;
How, with a weakly warbling tongue,
Of brazen knight they vainly sung;
A subject for their genius fit;
He dares defy both sense and wit.
What dares he not? He can, we know it,
A laureat make that is no poet;
A judge without the least pretence
To common law or common sense;
A bishop that is no divine;
And coxcombs in red ribbons shine:
Nay, he can make, what's greater far,
A middle state 'twixt peace and war;
And
say, there shall, for years together,
Be peace and war, and both, and neither.
Happy, O Market-hill! at least,
That court and courtiers have no taste:
You never else had known the dean,
But, as of old, obscurely lain;
All things gone on the same dull track,
And Drapier's-hill been still Drumlack
But now your name with Penhurst vies,
And wing'd with fame shall reach the skies.
;
DEAN SWIFT AT SIR ARTHUR ACHESON'S,
IN THE NORTH OF IRELAND.
THE dean would visit Market-hill,
Our invitation was but slight;
I said "Why let him, if he will:"
And so I bade sir Arthur write.
His manners would not let him wait,
Lest we should think ourselves neglected,
And so we see him at our gate
Three days before he was expected.
After a week, a month, a quarter,
And day succeeding after day,
Says not a word of his departure,
Though not a soul would have him stay.
VOL. I.
I've said enough to make him blush,
Methinks, or else the devil's in't;
But he cares not for it a rush,
Nor for my life will take the hint.
But you, my dear, may let him know,
In civil language, if he stays,
How deep and foul the roads may grow,
And that he may command the chaise.
Or you may say "My wife intends,
Though I should be exceeding proud,
This winter to invite some friends,
And, sir, I know you hate a crowd."
Or, "Mr. Dean-I should with joy
Beg you would here continue still,
But we must go to Aghnecloy, a
Or Mr. Moore will take it ill.'
The house accounts are daily rising;
So much his stay doth swell the bills
My dearest life, it is surprising,
How much he eats, how much he swills.
His brace of puppies how they stuff!
And they must have three meals a-day,
Yet never think they get enough;
His horses too eat all our hay.
O! if I could, how I would maul
His tallow face and wainscot paws,
His beetle brows and eyes of wall,
And make him soon give up the cause!
Must I be every moment chid
With Skinnybonia, Snipe, and Lean ?b
O! that I could but once be rid
Of this insulting tyrant dean!
ON CUTTING DOWN THE THORN AT
MARKET-HILL. 1727.
Ar Market-hill, as well appears
By chronicle of ancient date,
There stood for many hundred years
A spacious thorn before the gate.
Hither came every village maid,
And on the boughs her garland hung;
And here, beneath the spreading shade,
Secure from satyrs, sat and sung.
Sir Archibald, that valorous knight,
The lord of all the fruitful plain,
Would come and listen with delight;
For he was fond of rural strain.
(Sir Archibald, whose favourite name
Shall stand for ages on record,
By Scottish bards of highest fame,
Wise Hawthornden and Stirling's lord.")
But time with iron teeth, I ween,
Has canker'd all its branches round;
No fruit or blossom to be seen,
Its head reclining toward the ground.
This aged, sickly, sapless thorn,
Which must, alas! no longer stand,
Behold the cruel dean in scorn
Cuts down with sacrilegious hand.
Dame Nature, when she saw the blow,
Astonish'd gave a dreadful shriek ;
And mother Tellus trembled so,
She scarce recover'd in a week.
The Sylvan powers, with fear perplex'd,
In prudence and compassion sent
(For none could tell whose turn was next)
Sad omens of the dire event.
753
a The seat of Acheson Moore, esq., in the county of Tyrone.
The dean used to call lady Acheson by those names.
Sir Archibald Achoson, secretary of state for Scotland.
d Drummond of Hawthornden, and sir William Alexander,
earl of Stirling, who were both friends of sir Archibald, and
famous for their poetry.
3 C
754
ON CUTTING DOWN A THORN-MY LADY'S LAMENTATION.
The magpie, lighting on the stock,
Stood chattering with incessant din:
And with her beak gave many a knock,
To rouse and warn the nymph within.
The owl foresaw, in pensive mood,
The ruin of her ancient seat;
And fled in haste, with all her brood,
To seek a more secure retreat.
Last trolled forth the gentle swine,
To ease her itch against the stump,
And dismally was heard to whine,
All as she scrubb'd her measly rump.
The nymph who dwells in every tree,
(If all be true that poets chant,)
Condemn'd by Fate's supreme decree,
Must die with her expiring plant.
Thus, when the gentle Spina found
The thorn committed to her care,
Received its last and deadly wound,
She fled, and vanish'd into air.
But from the root a dismal groan
First issuing struck the murderer's ears:
And, in a shrill revengeful tone,
This prophecy he trembling hears:
"Thou chief contriver of my fall,
Relentless dean, to mischief born;
My kindred oft thine hide shall gall,
Thy gown and cassock oft be torn.
"And thy confederate dame, who brags
That she condemn'd me to the fire,
Shall rend her petticoats to rags,
And wound her legs with every brier.
"Nor thou, lord Arthur,a shalt escape;
To thee I often call'd in vain,
Against that assassin in crape;
Yet thou could'st tamely see me slain:
"Nor, when I felt the dreadful blow,
Or chid the dean, or pinch'd thy spouse;
Since you could see me treated so,
(An old retainer to your house,)
"May that fell dean, by whose command
Was form'd this Machiavelian plot,
Not leave a thistle on thy land;
Then who will own thee for a Scot?
"Pigs and fanatics, cows and Teagues,
Through all my empire I foresee,
To tear thy hedges join in leagues,
Sworn to revenge my thorn and me.
"And thou, the wretch ordain'd by fate,
Neal Gahagan, Hibernian clown,
With hatchet blunter than thy pate,
To hack my hallow'd timber down;
"When thou, suspended high in air,
Diest on a more ignoble tree,
(For thou shalt steal thy landlord's mare,)
Then, bloody caitiff! think on me."
EPITAPH
IN BERKELEY CHURCHYARD, GLOUCESTERSHIRE.
HERE lies the earl of Suffolk's fool,
Men call'd him Dicky Pearce;
His folly served to make folks laugh,
When wit, and mirth were scarce.
Poor Dick, alas! is dead and gone,
What signifies to cry
?
Dickies enough are still behind,
To laugh at by and by.
Buried, June 18, 1728, aged 63.
Sir Arthur Acheson,
MY LADY'S LAMENTATION AND COM-
PLAINT AGAINST THE DEAN.
JULY 28, 1728.
SURE never did man see
A wretch like poor Nancy,
So teazed day and night
By a doan and a knight.
To punish my sins,
Sir Arthur begins,
And gives me a wipe
With Skinny and Snipe:
His malice is plain,
Hallooing the dean.
The dean never stops,
When he opens his chaps;
I'm quite overrun
With robus and pun.
Before he came here,
To sponge for good cheer,
I sat with delight,
From morning till night,
With two bony thumbs
Could rub my old gums,
Or scratching my nose,
And jogging my toes;
But at present, forsooth,
I must not rub a tooth.
When my elbow he sees
Held up by my knees,
My arms, like two props,
Supporting my chaps,
And just as I handle 'em
Moving all like a pendulum;
He trips up my props,
And down my chin drops,
From my head to my heels,
Like a clock without wheels;
I sink in the spleen,
A useless machine.
If he had his will,
I should never sit still:
He comes with his whims,
I must move my limbs;
I cannot be sweet
Without using my feet;
To lengthen my breath,
Ile tires me to death.
If he sees her but once,
He'll swear she's a dunce;
Can tell by her looks
A hater of books;
Through each line of her face
Her folly can trace;
Which spoils every feature
Bestow'd her by nature;
But sense gives a grace
To the homeliest face:
Wise books and reflection
Will mend the complexion:
(A civil divine!
1 suppose, meaning mine!)
No lady who wants them.
Can ever be handsome,
I guess well enough
What he means by this stuff:
He haws and he hums,
At last out it comes:
What, madam? No walking,
No reading, nor talking?
You're now in your prime,
Make use of your time.
Consider, before
You come to threescore,
How the hussies will fleer
Where'er you appear;
"That silly old puss
Would fain be like us:
What a figure she made
In her tarnish'd brocade !"
And then he grows mild
Come be a good child;
If you are inclined
To polish your mind,
Be adored by the men
Till threescore and ten,
And kill with the spleeu
The jades of sixteen,
I'll show you the way;
Read six hours a-day.
The wits will frequent ye,
And think you but twenty.
By the worst of all squires, [ers, To make you learn faster,
Through bogs and through bri-
I'll be your schoolmastor,
The books you peruse.
Where a cow would be startled, And leave you to choose
I'm in spite of my heart led;
And, say what I will,
Haul'd up every hill;
Till, daggled and tatter'd,
My spirits quite shatter'd,
I return home at night,
And fast out of spite :
For I'd rathor be dead,
Than it c'er should be said
I was better for him
In stomach or limb.
But now to my diet;-
No eating in quiet,
He's still finding fault,
Too sour or too salt:
The wing of a chick
I hardly can pick,
But trash without measure
I swallow with pleasure.
Next, for his diversion,
He rails at my person.
What court breeding thus is!
He takes me to pieces:
From shoulder to flank
I'm lean and am lank ;
My nose, long and thin,
Grows down to my chin;
My chin will not stay,
But meets it half way;
My fingers, prolix,
Are ten crooked sticks:
He swears my ol-bows
Aro two iron crows,
Or sharp pointed rocks,
And wear out my smocks:
To 'scapo them, sir Arthur
Is forced to lio farther,
Or his sides they would goro
Like the tusks of a boar.
Thus was I drawn in;
Forgive me my sin.
At breakfast he'll ask
An account of my task.
Put a word out of joint,
Or miss but a point,
He rages and frets,
His manners forgets;
And, as I am serious
Is very imperious.
No book for delight
Must come in my sight;
But, instead of new plays,
Dull Bacon's Essays,
And poro every day on
That nasty Pantheon.
If I be not a drudge,
Let all the world judge.
"Twore better be blind
Than thus be confined.
But while in an ill tone
I murder poor Milton,
The dean, you will swear,
Is at study or prayer.
IIe's all the day sauntering,
With labourers bantering,
Among his colleagues,
A parcel of Teagues,
Whom he brings in among us
And bribes with mundungus.
He little believes
How they laugh in their sleeves.
Hail, fellow, well mot,
All dirty and wet:
Find out, if you can,
Who's master, who's man;
Who makes the best figure,
The dean or the digger;
And which is the best
At cracking a jest.
Now see how he sits
Perplexing his wito
Lady Acheson.
Now changing the scene,
But still to the dean;-
He loves to be bitter at
A lady illiterate;
TRIFLES.
755
In search of a motto
To fix on his grotto.
How proudly he talks
Of zigzags and walks,
And all the day raves
Of cradles and caves;
And boasts of his feats,
His grottos and seats;
Shows all his gewgaws,
And gapes for applause;
A fine occupation
For one in his station I
A hole where a rabbit
Would scorn to inhabit,
Dug out in an hour;
He calls it a bower.
But, O how we laugh,
To see a wild calf
Come, driven by heat,
And foul the green seat;
Or run helter-skelter,
To his harbour for shelter,
Where all goes to ruin
The dean has been doing.
The girls of the village
Come flocking for pillage,
Pull down the fine briers
And thorns to make fires;
But yet are so kind
To leave something behind:
No more need be said on't,
I smell when I tread on't.
Dear friend, doctor Jinny,
If I could but win ye,
Or Walmsley or Whaley,
To come hither daily,
Since fortune, my foe,
Will needs have it so,
That I'm, by her frowns,
Condemn'd to black gowns;
No squire to be found
The neighbourhood round;
(For, under the rose,
I would rather choose those ;)
If your wives will permit ye,
Come here out of pity,
To case a poor lady,
And beg hier a play-day.
So may you be seen
No more in the spleen;
May Walmsley give wine
Like a hearty divine
May Whaley disgrace
Dull Daniel's whey-face!
And may your three spouses
Let you lie at friends' houses!
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
A LEFT-HANDED LETTER
TO DR. SHERIDAN,ª 1718.
DELANY reports it, and he has a shrewd tongue,
That we both act the part of the clown and the cow-
dung;
We lie cramming ourselves, and are ready to burst,
Yet still are no wiser than we were at first.
Pudet hæc opprobria, I freely must tell ye,
Et dici potuisse, et non potuisse refelli.
Though Delany advised you to plague me no longer,
You reply and rejoin like Hoadly of Bangor;
I must now, at one sitting, pay off my old score;
How many to answer? One, two, three, or four,
But, because the three former are long ago pass'd,
I shall, for method sake, begin with the last.
You treat me like a boy that knocks down his foe,
Who, ere t'other gets up, demands the rising blow.
Yet I know a young rogue, that, thrown flat on the
Would, as he lay under, cry out, Sirrah! yield. [field,
So the French, when our generals soundly did pay
them,
[Deum.
[good?
Went triumphant to church, and sang stoutly Te
So the famous Tom Leigh, when quite run a-ground,
Comes off by out-laughing the company round:
In every vile pamphlet you'll read the same fancies,
Having thus overthrown all our farther advances.
My offers of peace you ill understood;
Friend Sheridan, when will you know your own
'Twas to teach you in modester language your duty;
For, were you a dog, I could not be rude t'ye;
As a good quiet soul, who no mischief intends
To a quarrelsome fellow, cries, Let us be friends.
But we like Antæus and Hercules fight,
The oftener you fall, the oftener you write;
And I'll use you as he did that overgrown clown,
I'll first take you up, and then take you down;
And, 'tis your own case, for you never can wound
The worst dunce in your school till he's heaved from
the ground.
I beg your pardon for using my left hand, but 1
was in great haste, and the other hand was employed
The humour of this poem is partly lost, by the impossibi-
lity of printing it left-handed as it was written.
at the same time in writing some letters of business.
I will send you the rest when I have leisure; but
pray come to dinner with the company you met
here last.
TO THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S,
IN ANSWER TO HIS LEFT-HANDED LETTER.
SINCE your poetic prancer is turn'd into Cancer,
I'll tell you at once, sir, I'm now not your man, sir;
For, pray, sir, what pleasure in fighting is found
With a coward who studies to traverse his ground?
When I drew forth my pen, with your pen you ran
back;
But I found out the way to your den by its track :
From thence the black monster I drew, o' my con-
[sense.
science,
And so brought to light what before was stark non-
When I with my right hand did stoutly pursue,
You turn'd to your left, and you writ like a Jew;
Which, good Mr. Dean, I can't think so fair,
Therefore turn about to the right, as you were ;
Then if with true courage your ground you maintain,
My fame is immortal, when Jonathan's slain :
Who's greater by far than great Alexander,
As much as a teal surpasses a gander;
As much as a game-cock's excell'd by a sparrow;
As much as a coach is below a wheelbarrow:
As much and much more as the most handsome man
Of all the whole world is exceeded by Dan.
T. SHERIDAN.
This was written with that hand which in others is commonly
called the left hand.
Orr have I been by poets told,
That, poor Jonathan, thou grow'st old.
Alas, thy numbers falling all,
Poor Jonathan, how they do fall!
Thy rhymes, which whilom made thy pride swell,
Now jingle like a rusty bridle :
Thy verses which ran both smooth and sweet,
Now limp upon their gouty feet:
Thy thoughts, which were the true sublime,
Are humbled by the tyrant, Time:
Alas! what cannot Time subdue?
Time has reduced my wine and you;
Emptied my casks, and clipp'd your wings,
Disabled both in our main springs;
So that of late we two are grown
The jest and scorn of all the town.
But yet, if my advice be ta'en,
We two may be as great again ;
I'll send you wings, and send me wine;
Then you will fly, and I shall shine.
This was written with my right hand, at the same time with
the other.
How does Melpy like this? I think I have vex'd her;
Little did she know, I was ambidexter.
T. SHERIDAN.
TO MR. THOMAS SHERIDAN.
REVEREND AND LEARNED SIR,
I AM teacher of English, for want of a better, to a
poor charity-school, in the lower end of St. Thomas's-
street; but in my time I have been a Virgilian,
though I am now forced to teach English, which I
understood less than my own native language, or
even than Latin itself; therefore I made bold to
send you the enclosed, the fruit of my Muse, in
hopes it may qualify me for the honour of being one
of your most inferior ushers: if you will vouchsafe
to send me an answer, direct to me next door but
one to the Harrow, on the left hund in Crocker's-lane.
I am yours, reverend sir, to command,
PAT. REYLY.
Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim.-Horat.
3 c 2
756
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
An te, doctissime Delany
Pulsus à foribus Decani,
Confugiens edo querelam,
Pauper petens clientelam.
Petebam Swift doctum patronum,
Sed ille dedit nullum donum,
Neque cibum neque bonum.
Quæris quàm malè sit stomacho num?
Iratus valdè valdè latrat,
Crumenicidam fermè patrat:
Quin ergo releves ægrotum,
Dato cibum, dato potum.
Ita in utrumvis oculum,
Dormiam bibens vestrum poculum.
Quæso, reverende vir, digneris hanc epistolam
inclusam cum versiculis perlegere, quam cum fasti-
dio abjecit et respuebat Decanus ille (inquam) lepi-
dissimus et Musarum et Apollinis comes.
Reverende Vir,
De vestra benignitate et clementiâ in frigore et
fame exanimatos, nisi persuasum esset nobis, hanc
epistolam reverentiæ vestræ non scripsissem; quam
profectò, quoniam eo es ingenio, in optimam acci-
pere partem nullus dubito. Sævit Boreas, mugiunt
procellæ, dentibus invitis maxillæ bellum gerunt.
Nec minus, intestino depræliantibus tumultu visce-
ribus, classicum sonat venter. Ea nostra est conditio,
hæc nostra querela. Proh Deûm atque hominum
fidem! quare illi, cui ne libella nummi est, dentes,
stomachum, viscera concessit natura? mehercule,
nostro ludibrium debens corpori, frustra laboravit a
patre voluntario exilio, qui macrum ligone macrio-
rem reddit agellum. Huc usque evasi, ad te, quasi
ad asylum, confugiens, quem nisi bene nôssem suc-
currere potuisse, mehercule, neque fores vestras pul-
tûssem, neque limina tetigissem. Quàm longum iter
famelicus peregi! nudus, egenus, esuriens, perhor-
rescens, despectus, mendicans; sunt lacrymæ rerum
et mentem carnaria tangunt. In viâ nullum fuit so-
latium præterquam quod Horatium, ubi macros in
igne turdos versat, perlegi. Catii dapes, Mæcenatis.
convivium, ita me picturâ pascens inani, sæpius vol-
vebam. Quid non mortalium pectora cogit Musa-
rum sacra fames? Hæc omnia, quæ nostra fuit ne-
cessitas, curavi ut scires; nunc re experiar quid da-
bis, quid negabis. Vale.
Vivitur parvo malò, sed canebat
Flaccus ut parvo benè: quod negamus:
Pinguis et lautè saturatus ille
Ridet inanes.
Pace sic dicam liceat poetæ
Nobilis læti salibus faceti
Usque jocundi, lepidè jocantis
Non sine curâ.
Quis potest versus, (meditans merendam,
Prandium, cœnam) numerare? quis non
Quot panes pistor locat in fenestrâ
Dicere mallet?
Ecce jejunus tibi venit unus;
Latrat ingenti stomachus furore;
Quæso digneris renovare fauces,
Docte Patrone.
Vestiant lanæ tenues libellos,
Vestiant panni dominum trementem,
Edibus vestris trepidante pennâ
Musa propinquat.
Nuda ne fiat, renovare vestes
Urget, et nunquam tibi sic molestam
Esse promittit, nisi sit concta
Frigore iniquo.
Si modo possem! Vetat heu pudor me
Plura, sed præstat rogitare plura,
An dabis binos digitos crumenæ im-
ponerc vestræ ?
TO THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S.
DEAR sir, since you in humble wise
Have made a recantation,
From your low bended knees arise;
I hate such poor prostration.
'Tis bravery that moves the brave,
As one nail drives another;
If you from me would mercy have,
Pray, sir, be such another.
You that so long maintain'd the field
With true poetic vigour;
Now you lay down your pen and yield,
You make a wretched figure.ª
Submit, but do't with sword in hand,
And write a panegyric
Upon the man you cannot stand;
I'll have it done in lyric :
That all the boys I teach may sing
The achievements of their Chiron;
What conquests my stern looks can bring
Without the help of iron.
A small goose-quill, yclep'd a pen,
From magazine of standish
Drawn forth, 's more dreadful to the dean,
Than any sword we brandish.
My ink's my flash, my pen's my bolt;
Whene'er I please to thunder,
I'll make you tremble like a colt,
And thus I'll keep you under.
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
TO THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S.
DEAR DEAN, I'm in a sad condition,
I cannot see to read or write ;
Pity the darkness of thy Priscian,
Whose days are all transform'd to night.
My head, though light, 's a dungeon grown,
The windows of my soul are closed;
Therefore to sleep I lay me down,
My verse and I are both composed.
Sleep, did I say? that cannot be ;
For who can sleep that wants his eyes?
My bed is useless then to me,
Therefore I lay me down to rise.
Unnumber'd thoughts pass to and fro
Upon the surface of my brain;
In various maze they come and go,
And come and go again.
So have you seen in sheet burnt black,
The fiery sparks at random run;
Now here, now there, some turning back,
Some ending where they just begun.
THOMAS SHEridan.
AN ANSWER, BY DELANY,
TO THOMAS SHERIDAN.
DEAR SHERRY, I'm sorry for your bloodsheded sore
eye,
And the more I consider your case, still the more I
Regret it, for see how the pain on't has wore ye.
A leg awry.
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
757
Besides, the good Whigs, who strangely adore ye,
In pity cry out, "He's a poor blinded Tory."
But listen to me, and I'll soon lay before ye
A sovereign cure well attested in Gory.
First wash it with ros, that makes dative rori;
[he
Then send for three leeches, and let them all gore ye;
Then take a cordial dram to restore ye,
Then take lady Judith, and walk a fine boree,
Then take a glass of good claret ex more,
Then stay as long as you can ab uxore;
And then if friend Dicka will but ope your back-door,
Will quickly dispel the black clouds that hang o'er ye,
And make you so bright, that you'll sing tory rory,
And make a new ballad worth ten of John Dory!
(Though I work your cure, yet he'll get the glory.)
I'm now in the back school-house, high up one story,
Quite weary with teaching, and ready to mori.
My candle's just out too, no longer I'll pore ye,
But away to Clem Barry's, there's an end of my
story.
A REPLY, BY SHERIDAN, TO DELANY,
I LIKE your collyrium,
Take my eyes, sir, and clear ye 'um,
Twill gain you a great reputation;
By this you may rise,
Like the doctor so wise [Dr. Davenant],
Who open'd the eyes of the nation.
And these, I must tell ye,
Are bigger than its belly ;-
You know, there's in Livy a story
Of the hands and the feet
Denying of meat,—
Don't I write in the dark like a Tory?
Your water so far goes,
'Twould serve for an Argus,
Were all his whole hundred sore;
So many we read
He had in his head,
Or Ovid's a son of a whore.
For your recipe, sir,
May my lids never stir
If ever I think once to fee you;
For I'd have you to know,
When abroad I can go,
That it's honour enough if I see you.
ANOTHER REPLY, BY SHERIDAN.
My pedagogue dear, I read with surprise [eyes;
Your long sorry rhymes which you made on my
As the dean of St. Patrick's says, earth, seas, and
I cannot lie down, but immediately rise, [skies!
To answer your stuff and the doctor's likewise.
Like a horse with a gall, I'm pester'd with flies,
But his head and his tail new succour supplies,
To beat off the vermin from back, rump, and thighs.
The wing of a goose before me now lies,
Which is both shield and sword for such weak
Whoever opposes me certainly dies, [enemies.
Though he were as valiant as Condé or Guise.
The women disturb me a-crying of pies,
With a voice twice as loud as a horse when he neighs.
By this, sir, you find, should we rhyme for a prize,
That I'd gain cloth of gold, when you'd scarce merit
frize.
TO THOMAS SHERIDAN.
DEAR TOM, I'm surprised that your verse did not
jingle;
[was but single.
But your rhyme was not double, 'cause your sight
Dr. Richard Helsham.
For, as Helsham observes, there's nothing can chime
Or fit more exact than one eye and one rhyme.
If you had not took physic, I'd pay off your bacon,
But now I'll write short, for fear you're short-taken.
Besides, Dicka forbid me, and call'd me a fool;
For he says, short as 'tis, it will give you a stool.
In libris bellis, tu parum parcis ocellis;
Dum nimium scribis, vel talpâ cæcior ibis,
Aut ad vina redis, nam sic tua lumina lædis:
Sed tibi cœnanti sunt collyria tanti?
Nunquid eges visu, dum comples omnia risu ?
Heu Sheridan cœcus, heu cris nunc cercopithecus
Nunc benè nasutus mittet tibi carmina tutus:
Nunc ope Burgundi, malus Helsham ridet abundà,
Nec Phabi fili versum quis mittere Ryly.
Quid tibi cum libris? relavet tua lumina Tybris
Mixtus Saturno; penso sed parcè diurno
Observes hoc tu, nec scriptis utere noctu.
Nonnulli mingunt et palpebras sibi tingunt.
Quidam purgantes, libros in stercore nantes
Lingunt; sie vinces videndo, mî bone, lynces.
Culum oculum tergis, dum scripta hoc flumine mergis;
Tunc oculi et nates, ni fallor, agent tibi grates.
Vim fuge Decani, nec sit tibi cura Delani :
Heu tibi si scribant, aut si tibi fercula libant,
Pone loco mortis, rapis fera pocula fortis.
Hæc tibi pauca dedi, sed consule Betty my lady,
Huic te des solæ, nec egebis pharmacopolæ.
Hæc somnians cecini,
JON. SWIFT.
Oct. 23, 1718.
AN ANSWER BY SHERIDAN.
PERLEGI Versus versos, Jonathan bone, tersos;
Perlepidos quidèm; scribendo semper es idem.
Laudibus extollo te, tu mihi magnus Apollo;
Tu frater Phoebus, oculis collyria præbes,
Ne minus insanæ reparas quoque damna Dianæ,
Quæ me percussit radiis (nec dixeris ussit)
Frigore collecto; medicus moderamine tecto
Lodicum binum permit, et negatis mihi vinum.
O terra et cœlum! quàm redit pectus anhelum.
Os mihi jam siccum, liceat mihi bibere die cum?
Ex vestro grato poculo, tam sæpe prolato,
Vina crepant: sales ostendet quis mihi tales?
Lumina, vos sperno, dum cuppa gaudia cerno:
Perdere etenim pellem nostram, quoque crura ma-
vellem.
Amphora, quàm dulces risus queis pectora mulees,
Pangitur a Flacco, cum pectus turget Iaccho :
Clarius evohe ingeminans geminatur et ole;
Nempe jocosa propago, hæsit sic vocis imago.
TO DR. SHERIDAN.
1718.
WHATE ER your predecessors taught us,
I have a great esteem for Plautus;
And think your boys may gather there-hence
More wit and humour than from Terence;
But as to comic Aristophanes,
The rogue too vicious and too profane is.
I went in vain to look for Eupolis
b
Down in the Strand, just where the New Pole is ;
For I can tell you one thing, that I can,
You will not find it in the Vatican.
He and Cratinus used, as Horace says,
To take his greatest grandees for asses.
Poets, in those days, used to venture high;
But these are lost full many a century.
Thus you may see, dear friend, ex pede hence,
My judgment of the old comedians.
a Dr. Richard Helsham.
b N.B. The Strand in London. The fact may not be true
but the rhyme cost me some trouble.-SWIFT.
758
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
Proceed to tragics: first Euripides
(An author where I sometimes nip a-days)
Is rightly censured by the Stagirite,
Who says his numbers do not fadge aright.
A friend of mine that author despises
So much he swears the very best piece is,
For aught he knows, as bad as Thespis's;
And that a woman in these tragedies,
Commonly speaking, but a sad jade is.
At least I'm well assured that no folk lays
The weight on him they do on Sophocles.
But, above all, I prefer Eschylus,
Whose moving touches, when they please, kill us.
And now I find my muse but ill able
To hold out longer in trissyllable.
I chose those rhymes out for their difficulty;
Will you return as hard ones if I call t'ye?
THE ANSWER, BY DR. SHERIDAN.
SIR, I thank you for your comedies.
I'll stay and read 'em now at home a-days,
Because Pareus wrote but sorrily
Thy notes, I'll read Lambinus thoroughly;
And then I shall be stoutly set a-gog
To challenge every Irish pedagogue.
I like your nice epistle critical,
Which does in threefold rhymes so witty fall;
Upon the comic dram' and tragedy
Your notion's right, but verses maggoty;
'Tis but an hour since I heard a man swear it,
The devil himself could hardly answer it.
As for your friend the sage Euripides,
a I believe you give him now the slip o' days;
But mum for that- -pray come a Saturday
And dine with me, you can't a better day:
I'll give you nothing but a mutton chop,
Some nappy-mellow'd ale with rotten hop,
A pint of wine as good as Falern',
Which we poor masters, God knows, all earn :
We'll have a friend or two, sir, at table,
Right honest men, for few're comeatable;
Then when our liquor makes us talkative,
We'll to the fields, and take a walk at eve.
Because I'm troubled much with laziness,
These rhymes I've chosen for their easiness.
1718.
[deal,
DR. SHERIDAN TO DR. SWIFT.
Dear Dean, since in cruxes and puns you and I
Pray why is a woman a sieve and a riddle?
'Tis a thought that came into my noddle this morning,
In bed as I lay, sir, a-tossing and turning.
You'll find if you read but a few of your histories.
All women, as Eve, all women are mysteries,
To find out this riddle I know you'll be eager,
And make every one of the sex a Belphegor.
But that will not do, for I mean to commend them;
I swear without jest I an honour intend them,
In a sieve, sir, their ancient extraction I quite tell,
In a riddle I give you their power and their title.
This I told you before; do you know what I mean,
sir?
"Not I, by my troth, sir."-Then read it again, sir.
The reason I send you these lines of rhymes double
Is purely through pity, to save you the trouble
Of thinking two hours for a rhyme as you did last,
When your Pegasus canter'd in triple, and rid fast.
As for my little nag, which I keep at Parnassus,
With Phoebus's leave, to run with his asses,
He goes slow and sure, and he never is jaded,
While your fiery steed is whipp'd, spurr'd, basti-
naded.
N.B.-You told me you forgot your Greek.
THE DEAN'S ANSWER.
In reading your letter alone in my hackney,
Your damnable riddle my poor brains did rack nigh.
And when with much labour the matter I crack'd,
I found you mistaken in matter of fact.
A woman's no sieve, (for with that you begin,)
Because she lets out more than e'er she takes in.
And that she's a riddle can never be right,
For a riddle is dark, but a woman is light.
But grant her a sieve, I can say something archer ;
Pray what is a man? he's a fine linen searcher.
Now tell me a thing that wants interpretation,
What name for a maid,a was the first man's damna-
tion;
If your worship will please to explain me this rebus,
1 swear from henceforward you shall be my Phœbus.
From my hackney-coach, Sept. 11, 1716.
past 12 at noon.
DR. SHERIDAN'S REPLY TO THE DEAN.
DON'T think these few lines which I send a re-
proach
From my Muse in a car to your Muse in a coach.
The great god of poems delights in a car,
Which makes him so bright that we see him from far;
For were he mew'd up in a coach, 'tis allow'd
We'd see him no more than we see through a cloud.
You know to apply this-I do not disparage
Your lines, but I say they're the worse for the car-
riage.
I
Now first you deny that a woman's a sieve ;
say that she is; What reason d'ye give?
Because she lets out more than she takes in.
Is't that you advance for't? you are still to begin.
Your major and minor I both can refute,
[bran?"
I'll teach you hereafter with whom to dispute.
A sieve keeps in half, deny't if you can.
D. "Adzucks, I mistook it, who thought of the
I tell you in short, sir, you should have a pair o'
stocks
For thinking to palm on your friend such a paradox.
Indeed, I confess, at the close you grew better,
But you light from your coach when you finish'd
your letter.
Your thing which you say wants interpretation,
What's name for a maiden-the first man's damna-
tion?
A damsel-Adam's hell-ay, there I have hit it,
Just as you conceiv'd it, just so have I writ it.
Since this I've discover'd, I'll make you to know it,
That now I'm your Phoebus, and you are my poet.
But if you interpret the two lines that follow,
I'll again be your poet, and you my Apollo.
Why a noble lord's dog and my schoolhouse this
weather
[ther?
Make up the best catch when they're coupled toge-
From my Ringsend car, Sept. 12, 1718.
past 5 in the morning, on a repetition.
day.
TO THE SAME.
BY DR. SHERIDAN.
12 o'clock at noon,
O. S. September 12, 1718.
SIR, perhaps you may wonder, I send you so soon
Another epistle; consider 'tis noon.
[is,
For all his acquaintance well know that friend Tom
Whenever he makes one, as good as his promise.
Now Phoebus exalted, sits high on his throne,
Dividing the heav'ns, dividing my crown,
a A damsel, i, e. Adam's hell.
1 Begging pardon for the expression to a dignitary of the
church.
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
759
Into poems and business, my skull's split in two,
One side for the lawyers, and t'other for you.
With my left eye I see you sit snug in your stall,
With my right I'm attending the lawyers that scrawl.
With my left I behold your bellower a cur chase;
With my right I'm a-reading my deeds for a purchase.
My left ear's attending the hymns of the choir,
My right ear is stunn'd with the noise of the crier.
My right hand's inditing these lines to your rever-
ence,
My left is indenting for me and heirs ever-hence.
Although in myself I'm divided in two.
Dear dean. I shall ne'er be divided from you.
THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S
TO THOMAS SHERIDAN.
SIR,
I CANNOT but think that we live in a bad age,
O tempora, O mores! as 'tis in the adage.
My foot was but just set out from my cathedral,
When into my hands comes a letter from the droll.
I can't pray in quiet for you and your verses;
But now let us hear what the Muse from your car
says.
Hum-excellent good-your anger was stirr'd;
Well, punners and rhymers must have the last word.
But let me advise you, when next I hear from you,
To leave off this passion which does not become you;
For we who debate on a subject important
Must argue with calmness, or else will come short
For myself, I protest, I care not a fiddle.
[on't.
For a riddle and sieve, or a sieve and a riddle ;
And think of the sex as you please, I'd as lieve
You call them a riddle as call them a sieve.
Yet still you are out, (though to vex you I'm loth,)
For I'll prove it impossible they can be both;
A schoolboy know this, for it plainly appears
That a sieve dissolves riddles by help of the shears;
For you can't but have heard of a trick among
wizards,
To break open riddles with shears or with scissors.
Think again of the sieve, and I'll hold you a wager,
You'll dare not to question my minor or major. a
A sieve keeps half in, and therefore, no doubt,
Like a woman, keeps in less than it lets out.
Why sure, Mr. Poet, your head got a-jar
By riding this morning too long in your car:
And I wish your few friends, when they next see
your cargo,
For the sake of your senses would lay an embargo.
You threaten the stocks; I say you are scurrilous,
And you durst not talk thus if I saw you at our ale-
house.
But as for your threats, you may do what you can;
I despise any poet that truckled to Dan.
But keep a good tongue, or you'll find to your smart,
From rhyming in cars, you may swing in a cart.
You found out my rebus with very much modesty;
But thanks to the lady; I'm sure she's too good to ye:
Till she lent you her help, you were in a fine
twitter;
You hit it, you say ;-you're a delicate hitter.
How could you forget so ungratefully a lass,
And if you be my Phœbus, pray who was your Pal-
As for your new rebus, or riddle, or crux,
I will either explain, or repay it by trucks;
Though your lords, and your dogs, and your catches,
methinks,
[las?
Are harder than ever were put by the sphinx.
And thus I am fully revenged for your late tricks,
Which is all at present from the
From my closet, Sept. 12, 1718,
just 12 at noon.
DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S.
a Ut tu perperam argumentaris.
TO THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S.
SIR,-Your Billingsgate Muse methinks does begin
With much greater noise than a conjugal din.
A pox of her bawling, her tempora et mores!
What are times now to me? a'nt I one of the Tories?
You tell me my verses disturb you at prayers;
Oh, oh, Mr. Dean, are you there with your bears?
You pray, I suppose, like a heathen, to Phœbus,
To give his assistance to make out my rebus:
Which I don't think so fair; leave it off for the future;
When the combat is equal, this god should be neuter.
I'm now at the tavern, where I drink all I can,
To write with more spirit; I'll drink no more Heli-
For Helicon is water, and water is weak;
[con;
'Tis wine on the gross lee, that makes your Muse
speak.
This I know by her spirit and life; but I think
She's much in the wrong to scold in her drink.
Her damn'd pointed tongue pierced almost to my
Tell me of a cart, -tell me of a
[heart;
I'd have you to tell on both sides her ears, stairs:
If she comes to my house, that I'll kick her down
Then home she shall limping go, squalling out, O my
knee
You shall soon have a crutch to buy for your Melpo-
mene.
You may come as her bully, to bluster and swagger;
But my ink is my poison, my pen is my dagger:
Stand off, I desire, and mark what I say to you,
If you come I will make your Appollo shine through
you.
Don't think, sir, I fear a dean, as I would fear a dun
Which is all at present from yours,
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
THE DEAN TO THOMAS SHERIDAN.
SIR,-When I saw you to-day, as I went with lord
Anglesey,
Lord, said I, who's that parson, how awkwardly
dangles he!
When whip you trot up, without minding your betters,
To the very coach side, and threaten your letters.
Is the poison [and dagger] you boast in your jaws,
trow?
Are you still in your cart with convitia ex plaustro?
But to scold is your trade, which I soon should be
foil'd in,
For scolding is just quasi diceres-school-din :
And I think I may say you could many good shil-
lings get,
[Billingsgate;
Were you dress'd like a bawd, and sold oysters at
But coach it or cart it, I'd have you know, sirrah,
I'll write, though I'm forced to write in a wheel-
barrow;
Nay, hector and swagger, you'll still find me stanch,
And you and your cart shall give me carte blanche.
Since you write in a cart, keep it tecta et sarta.
'Tis all you have for it; 'tis your best Magna Carta;
And I love you so well, as I told you long ago,
That I'll ne'er give my vote for Delenda Cart-ago.
Now you write from your cellar, I find out your art,
You rhyme as folks fence, in tierce and in cart:
Your ink is your poison,ª your pen is what not;
Your ink is your drink,b your pen is your pot.
To my goddess Melpomene, pride of her sex,
I gave, as you beg, your most humble respects:
The rest of your compliment I dare not tell her,
For she never descends so low as the cellar
;
But before you can put yourself under her banners,
She declares from her throne you must learn better
manners.
a Viz. ut tu prædicas.
b Viz. ut ego assero verius.
7760
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
If once in your cellar my Phoebus should shine,
I tell you I'd not give a fig for your wine;
So I'll leave him behind, for I certainly know it,
What he ripens above ground he sours below it.
But why should we fight thus, my partner so dear,
With three hundred and sixty-five poems a-year?
Let's quarrel no longer, since Dan and George
Rochfort
[watch for't.
Will laugh in their sleeves: I can tell you they
Then George will rejoice, and Dan will sing high-
Hoc Ithacus velit, et magni mercentur Atride. [day:
JON. SWIFT.
Written, signed, and sealed, five minutes and
eleven seconds after the receipt of yours, al-
lowing seven seconds for scaling and super-
scribing, from my bed-side, just eleven mi-
nutes after eleven, Sept. 15, 1718.
Erratum in your last, 1. antepenult, pro
"fear a
Dun," lege "fear a Dan:" ita omnes MSS. quos
ego legi, et ita magis congruum tam sensui quam
veritati.
TO DR. SHERIDAN.ª
Dec. 14, 1719, nine at night.
SIR, It is impossible to know by your letter
whether the wine is to be bottled to-morrow
or no.
If it be, or be not, why did not you in plain English
tell us so ?
For my part, it was by mere chance I came to sit
with the ladies this night;
And if they had not told me there was a letter from
you, and your man Alexander had not gone and
come back from the deanery, and the boy here
had not been sent to let Alexander know I was
here, I should have missed the letter outright.
Truly I don't know who's bound to be sending for
corks to stop your bottles, with a vengeance.
Make a page of your own age, and send your man
Alexander to buy corks; for Saunders already has
gone about ten jaunts.
Mrs. Dingley and Mrs. Johnson say, truly they don't
care for your wife's company, though they like
your wine; but they had rather have it at their
own house to drink in quiet.
However, they own it is very civil in Mrs. Sheridan
to make the offer; and they cannot deny it.
I wish Alexander safe at St. Catherine's to-night,
with all my heart and soul, upon my word and
honour:
But I think it base in you to send a poor fellow out
so late at this time of year, when one would not
turn out a dog that one valued; I appeal to your
friend Mr. Connor.
I would present my humble service to my lady
Mountcashel; but truly I thought she would have
made advances to have been acquainted with me,
as she pretended.
But now I can write no more, for you see plainly my
paper is ended.
1st P.S.
1 wish, when you prated, your letter you'd dated:
Much plague it created. I scolded and rated;
My soul is much grated; for your man I long waited.
I think you are fated like a bear to be baited:
Your man is belated: the case I have stated;
And me you have cheated. My stable's unslated.
Come back t' us well freighted.
I remember my late head; and wish you translated,
For teazing me.
In this letter, though written in prose, the render, upon
examining, will find each second sentence rhymes to the former.
Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Dingley.
2nd P.S.
Mrs. Dingley desires me singly
[you;
Her service to present you; hopes that will content
But Johnson madam is grown a sad dame, [verse.
For want of your converse, and cannot send one
3rd P.S.
[tling:
You keep such a twattling with you and your bot-
But I see the sum total, we shall ne'er have a bottle;
The long and the short, we shall not have a quart:
I wish you would sign't, that we have a pint.
For all your colloguing, I'd be glad of a knoggin :b
But I doubt 'tis a sham; you won't give us a dram.
'Tis of shine a mouth moon-ful, you won't part with
a spoonful;
a
And I must be nimble, if I can fill my thimble.
You see I won't stop, till I come to a drop.
But I doubt the oraculum is a poor supernaculum;
Though perhaps you may tell it, for a grace if we
smell it.
STELLA.
DR. SHERIDAN'S ANSWER.
I'D have you to know, as sure as you're dean,
On Thursday my cask of Obrien I'll drain;
If my wife is not willing, I say she's a quean;
And my right to the cellar, egad, I'll maintain
As bravely as any that fought at Dunblain :
Go tell her it over and over again.
I hope, as I ride to the town, it won't rain;
For, should it, I fear it will cool my hot brain,
Entirely extinguish my poetic vein;
And then I should be as stupid as Kain,
Who preach'd on three heads, though he mention'd
but twain.
Now Wardel's in haste, and begins to complain;
Your most humble servant, dear sir, I remain,
T. S-N.
Get Helsham, Walmsley, Delany,
And some Grattans, if there be any c
Take care you do not bid too many.
DR. SWIFT'S REPLY.
THE verses you sent on your bottling your wine
Were, in every one's judgment, exceedingly fine;
And I must confess, as a dean and divine,
I think you inspired by the Muses all nine.
I nicely examined them every line,
[shine;
And the worst of them all like a barn-door did
O, that Jove would give me such a talent as thine!
With Delany or Dan I would scorn to combine.
I know they have many a wicked design;
And, give Satan his due, Dan begins to refine.
However, I wish, honest comrade of mine,
You would really on Thursday leave St. Catharine,d
Where I hear you are craman'd every day like a
swine;
With me you'll no more have a stomach to dine,
Nor after your victuals lie sleeping supine ;
So I wish you were toothless, like lord Masserine.
But were you as wicked as lewd Aretine,
I wish you would tell me which way you incliue.
If when you return your road you don't line,
On Thursday I'll pay my respects at your shrine,
Wherever you bend, wherever you twine,
In square, or in opposite, circle, or trine.
Your beef will on Thursday be salter than brine:
I hope you have swill'd with new milk from the kine,
As much as the Liffee's outdone by the Rhine;
And Dan shall be with us with nose aquiline.
A phrase used in Ireland for a spocious appearance of
kindness without sincerity.
A name used in Ireland for the English quartern.
• i. e. in Dublin, for they were country clergy.
d The seat of lady Mountcashel, near Dublin.
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
761
If you do not come back we shall weep out our
eyne;
Or may your gown never be good Lutherine.
The beef you have got I hear is a chine;
But if too many come, your madam will whine;
And then you may kiss the low end of her spine.
But enough of this poetry Alexandrine;
I hope you will not think this a pasquine.
GEORGE ROCHFORT'S VERSES,
FOR THE REV. DR. SWIFT, DEAN OF ST. PATRICK's,
AT LARACON, NEAR TRIM.
MUSA CLONSHOGHIANA.
THAT Downpatrick's dean, or Patrick's down went,
Like two arrand deans, two deans errant I meant;
So that Christmas appears at Bellcampe like a Lent,
Gives the gamesters of both houses great discontent.
Our parsons agree here, as those did at Trent,
Dan's forehead has got a most damnable dent,
Besides a large hole in his Michaelmas rent.
But your fancy on rhyming so cursedly bent,
With your bloody ouns in one stanza pent,
Does Jack's utter ruin at picket prevent,
For an answer in specie to yours must be sent;
So this moment at crambo (not shuffling) is spent,
And I lose by this crotchet quaterze, point, and
quint,
Which you know to a gamester is great bitterment;
But whisk shall revenge me on you, Batt, and Brent.
Bellcampe, Jan. 1, 1717.
THOMAS SHERIDAN, CLERK,
TO GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN, ESQ.
Written July 15, 1721, at night.
I'D have you t' know, George, Dan," Dean,c and
Nim,d
That I've learned how verse t' compose trim,
Much better b'half th'n you, n'r you, n'r him,
And that I'd rid'cule their 'nd your flam-flim.
Ay b't then, p'rhaps, says you, t's a merry whim,
With 'bundance of mark'd notes i'th' rim,
So th❜t I ought n't for t' be morose 'nd t' look grim,
Think n't your 'p'stle put m' in a megrim;
Though 'n rep't't'on day, I 'ppear ver' slim,
Th' last bowl 't Helsham's did m' head t' swim,
So th❜t I h'd man' aches 'n 'v'ry scrubb'd limb,
Cause th' top of th' bowl I h'd oft us'd t' skim;
And b'sides D'lan' swears th't I h'd swall'w'd s'v'r'l
brim-
Mers, 'nd that my vis'ge's cov'r'd o'er with r'd pim-
Ples: m'r'o'er though m' scull were ('s 'tis n't) 's
strong's tim-
Ber, 't must have ach'd. Th' clans of th' c'llege
Sanh'drim,
Pres'nt the'r humbl' and 'fect'nate respects; that's t'
say, D'ln', 'chlin, P. Ludl', Dic' St'wart, H'lsham,
Capt'n P'rr' Walmsl', 'nd Longsh'nks Timm.e
GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN'S ANSWER.
DEAR Sheridan! a gentle pair
Of Gaulstown lads (for such they are),
Besides a brace of grave divines,
Adore the smoothness of thy lines:
Smooth as our basin's silver flood,
Ere George had robb'd it of its mud;
Smoother than Pegasus' old shoe,
Ere Vulcan comes to make him new.
"George Rochfort.
b Mr. Jackson.
• Dr. Swift.
Mr. John Rochfort, called by the dean Nimrod, or Nim,
rom his attachment to hunting,
"Dr. James Stopford, afterwards bishop of Cloyno
The board on which we set our a-S,
Is not so smooth as are thy verses;
Compared with which (and that's enough)
A smoothing-iron itself is rough.
Nor praise I less that circumcision,
By modern poets call'd elision,
With which, in proper station placed,
Thy polish'd lines are firmly braced.
Thus a wise tailor is not pinching,
But turns at every scam an inch in:
Or else, be sure, your broad-cloth breecnes
Will n'er be smooth nor hold their stitches.
Thy verse, like bricks, defy the weather,
When smooth'd by rubbing them together;
Thy words so closely wedged and short are,
Like walls, more lasting without mortar;
By leaving out the needless vowels,
You save the charge of lime and trowels.
One letter still another locks,
Each grooved and dovetail'd like a box;
Thy muse is tuck'd up and succinct;
In chains thy syllables are link'd:
Thy words together tied in small hanks.
Close as the Macedonian phalanx?
Or like the umbo of the Romans,
Which fiercest foes could break by no means.
The critic, to his grief will find
How firmly these indentures bind.
So, in the kindred painter's art,
The shortening is the nicest part.
Philologers of future ages,
How will they pore upon thy pages!
Nor will they dare to break the joints,
But help thee to be read with points:
Or else, to show their learned labour, you
May backward be perused like Hebrew,
In which they need not lose a bit
Or of thy harmony or wit.
To make a work completely fine,
Number and weight and measure join;
Then all must grant your lines are weighty,
Where thirty weigh as much as eighty;
All must allow your numbers more,
Where twenty lines exceed fourscore;
Nor can we think your measure short,
Where less than forty fill a quart,
With Alexandrian in the close,
Long, long, long, long, like Dan's long nose.
GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN'S INVITATION
TO THOMAS SHERIDAN.
Gaulstown, Aug, 2, 1721
DEAR Tom, this verse, which however the begin-
ning may appear, yet in the end's good metre,
Is sent to desire that, when your August vacation
comes, your friends you'd meet here.
For why should you stay in the filthy hole, I mean
the city so smoky,
When you have not one friend left in town, or at
least not one that's witty, to joke w' ye?
a
For as for honest John, though I'm not sure on't,
yet I'll be hang'd, lest he
Be gone down to the county of Wexford with that
great peer the lord Anglesey.b
O! but I forgot; perhaps, by this time, you may
have one come to town, but I don't know whether
he be friend or foe, Delany:
But, however, if he be come, bring him down, and
you shall go back in a fortnight, for I know there's
no delaying ye.
O! I forgot too: I believe there may be one more,
mean that great fat joker, friend Helsham, he
I
Supposed to mean Dr. Walmsley.
Arthur earl of Anglesey.
762
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
a
That wrote the prologue, and if you stay with him,
depend on't, in the end he'll sham ye.
Bring down Longshanks Jimb too; but, now I think
on't, he's not yet come from Courtown,c I fancy;
For I heard, a month ago, that he was down there a-
courting sly Nancy.
However, bring down yourself, and you bring down
all; for, to say it we may venture,
In thee Delany's spleen, John's mirth, Helsham's
jokes, and the soft soul of amorous Jemmy centre.
POSTSCRIPT.
I had forgot to desire you to bring down what I say
you have, and you'll believe me as sure as a gun,
and own it;
I mean, what no other mortal in the universe can
boast of, your own spirit of pun, and own wit.
And now I hope you'll excuse this rhyming, which
I must say is (though written somewhat at large)
trim and clean;
And so I conclude, with humble respects as usual,
Your most dutiful and obedient
GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN.
TO GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN, ESQ.,
UPON HIS INCOMPARABLE VERSES.
BY DR. DELANY IN SHERIDAN'S NAME
HAIL, human compound quadrifarious,
Invincible as wight Briareus!
Hail! doubly-doubled mighty merry one,
Stronger than triple-bodied Geryon !
O may your vastness deign t' excuse
The praises of a puny Muse,
Unable, in her utmost flight,
To reach thy huge colossian height!
T'attempt to write like thee were frantic,
Whose lines are, like thyself, gigantic.
Yet let me bless, in humbler strain,
Thy vast, thy bold Cambysian vein,
Pour'd out t' enrich thy native isle,
As Egypt won't to be with Nile.
O, how I joy to see thee wander,
In many a winding loose meander,
In circling mazes, smooth and supple,
And ending in a clink quadruple;
Loud, yet agreeable withal,
Like rivers rattling in their fall!
Thine, sure, is poetry divine,
Where wit and majesty combine;
Where every line, as huge as seven,
If stretch'd in length, would reach to heaven:
Here all comparing would be slandering,
The least is more than Alexandrine.
Against thy verse Time sees with pain,
He whets his envious scythe in vain ;
For though from thee he much may pare,
Yet much thou still wilt have to spare.
Thou hast alone the skill to feast
With Roman elegance of taste,
Who hast of rhymes as vast resources
As Pompey's caterer of courses.
O thou, of all the Nine inspired!
My languid soul, with teaching tired,
How is it raptured when it thinks
Of thy harmonious set of chinks;
Each answering each in various rhymes,
Like echo to St. Patrick's chimes?
Thy Muse, majestic in her rage,
Moves like Statira on the stage ;
And scarcely can one page sustain
The length of such a flowing train :
a It was customary with Dr. Sheridan to have a Greek play
acted by his head class just before they entered the university.
b Dr. James Stopford, bishop of Cloyne.
• The scat of
Hussay, esq., in the county of Kildare.
Her train of variegated dye
Shows like Thaumantia's in the sky;
Alike they glow, alike they please,
Alike impress'd by Phoebus' rays.
Thy verse- -(ye Gods! I cannot bear it)
To what, to what shall I compare it?
'Tis like, what I have oft heard spoke on,
The famous statue of Laocoon.
"Tis like, O yes, 'tis very like it,-
The long, long string, with which you fly kite.
'Tis like what you, and one or two more,
Roar to your Echoa in good humour;
And every couplet thou hast writ
Concludes with Rhattah-whittah-whit.b
TO MR. THOMAS SHERIDAN,
PON HIS VERSES WRITTEN IN CIRCLES.
BY DR. SWIFT.
By humble companions were sent to their betters:
And as to the subject, our judgment, meherc'le,
Is this, that you argue like fools in a circle.
But now for your verses; we tell you, imprimis, [is,
The segment so large 'twixt your reason and rhyme
That we walk all about like a horse in a pound,
And, before we find either, our noddles turn round.
Sufficient it were, one would think, in your mad rant,
To give us your measures of line by a quadrant.
But we took our dividers, and found your d-n'd
In each single verse, took up a diameter. [metre,
But how, Mr. Sheridan, came you to venture
George, Dan, Dean, and Nim, to place in the centre ?c
"Twill appear to your cost you are fairly trepann'd,
For the chord of your circle is now in their hand.
The chord, or the radius, it matters not whether,
By which your jade Pegasus, fix'd in a tether, [ring,
As his betters are used, shall be lash'd round the
Three fellows with whips, and the dean holds the
string.
Ir never was known that circular letters
Will Hancock declares you are out of your compass,
To encroach on his art by writing of bombast;
And has taken just now a firm resolution
To answer your style without circumlocution.
Lady Bettyd presents you her service most humble,
And is not afraid your worship will grumble
That she make of your verses a hoop for Miss Tam.c
Which is all at present; and so I remain-
ON DR. SHERIDAN'S CIRCULAR VERSES.
BY MR. GEORGE ROCHFORT.
WITH music and poetry equally bless'd,
A bard thus Apollo most humbly address'd:
"Great author of harmony, verses, and light!
Assisted by thee, I both fiddle and write.
Yet unheeded I scrape, or I scribble all day,
My verse is neglected, my tunes thrown away.
Thy substitute here, vice Apollo, disdains
To vouch for my numbers, or list to my strains;
Thy manual signet refuses to put
To the airs I produce from the pen or the gut.
Be thou then propitious, great Phœbus! and grant
Relief or reward to my merit or want.
[abode;
Though the dean and Delany transcendently shine,
O brighten one solo or sonnet of mine!
With them I'm content thou should'st make thy
But visit thy servant in jig or in ode;
Make one work immortal: 'tis all I request."
Apollo look'd pleased; and, resolving to jest,
a At Gaulstown there is a remarkable famous echo.
In allusion to the sound produced by the echo.
Their figures were in the centre of the verses.
d Daughter of the earl of Drogheda, and married to George
Rochfort, esq.
• Miss Thomason lady Betty's daughter.
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
763
Replied, "Honest friend, I've consider'd thy case;
Nor dislike thy well-meaning and humorous face.
Thy petition I grant: the boon is not great;
Thy works shall continue; and here's the receipt.
On rondeaus hereafter thy fiddle-strings spend:
Write verses in circles: they never shall end."
ON DAN JACKSON'S PICTURE,
CUT IN SILK AND PAPER.
To fair lady Betty Dan sat for his picture,
And defied her to draw him so oft as he piqued her.
He knew she'd no pencil or colouring by her,
And therefore he thought he might safely defy her.
Come sit, says my lady; then whips up her scissar
And cuts out his coxcomb in silk in a trice, sir.
Dan sat with attention, and saw with surprise
How she lengthen'd his chin, how she hollow'd his
But flatter'd himself with a secret conceit [eyes;
That his thin leathern jaws all her art would defeat.
Lady Betty observed it, then pulls out a pin,
And varies the grain of the stuff to his grin :
And, to make roasted silk to resemble his raw-bone,
She raised up a thread to the jet of his jaw-bone;
Till at length in exactest proportion he rose,
From the crown of his head to the arch of his nose:
And if lady Betty had drawn him with wig and all,
'Tis certain the copy had outdone the original.
Well, that's but my outside, says Dan, with a
vapour;
Say you so? says my lady; I've lined it with paper.
Patr. Delany, sculp.
ON THE SAME PICTURE.
CLARISSA draws her scissors from the case
To draw the lines of poor Dan Jackson's face
One sloping cut made forehead, nose, and chin,
A nick produced a mouth, and made him grin,
Such as in tailor's measure you have seen.
But still were wanting his grimalkin eyes,
For which gray worsted stocking paint supplies.
Th' unravell'd thread through needle's eye convey'd,
Transferr'd itself into his pasteboard head.
How came the scissors to be thus outdone?
The needle had an eye, and they had none.
O wondrous force of art! now look at Dan-
You'll swear the pasteboard was the better man.
"The devil!" says he, "the head is not so full !”
Indeed it is-behold the paper skull.
IF
THOS. SHERIDAN, sculp.
ON THE SAME.
If you say this was made for friend Dan, you belie it.
I'll swear he's so like it that he was made by it.
THOS. SHERIDAN, sculp.
ON THE SAME PICTURE.
DAN'S evil genius in a trice
Had stripp'd him of his coin at dice.
Chloe, observing this disgrace,
On Pam cut out his rueful face.
By G-, says Dan, 'tis very hard,
Cut out at dice, cut out at card!
G. ROCHFORT, sculp.
ON THE SAME PICTURE.
WHILST you three merry poets traffic
To give us a description graphic
Of Dan's large nose in modern sapphic,
I spend my time in making sermons,
Or writing libels on the Germans,
Or murmuring at Whigs' preferments.
But when I would find rhyme for Rochfort,
And look in English, French, and Scotch for't,
At last I'm fairly forced to botch for't.
Bid lady Betty recollect her,
And tell who was it could direct her
To draw the face of such a spectre?
I must confess that as to me, sirs,
Though I ne'er saw her hold the scissors,
I now could safely swear it is hers.
'Tis true, no nose could come in better;
'Tis a vast subject stuff'd with matter,
Which all may handle, none can flatter.
Take courage, Dan; this plainly shows
That not the wisest mortal knows
What fortune may befall his nose.
Show me the brightest Irish toast,
Who from her lover e'er could boast
Above a song or two at most :
For thee three poets now are drudging all,
To praise the cheeks, chin, nose, the bridge and all,
Both of the picture and original.
Thy nose's length and fame extend
So far, dear Dan, that every friend
Tries who shall have it by the end.
And future poets, as they rise.
Shall read with envy and surprise
Thy nose outshining Celia's eyes.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
DAN JACKSON'S DEFENCE.
My verse little better you'll find than my face is;
A word to the wise-ut pictura poesis.
THREE merry lads, with envy stung,
Because Dan's face is better hung,
Combined in verse to rhyme it down,
And in its place set up their own;
As if they'd run it down much better
By number of their feet in metre.
Or that its red did cause their spite,
Which made them draw in black and white.
Be that as 'twill, this is most true,
They were inspired by what they drew
Let then such critics know, my face
Gives them their comeliness and grace :
While every line of face does bring
A line of grace to what they sing.
But yet, methinks, though with disgrace
Both to the picture and the face,
I should name them who do rehearse
The story of the picture farce;
The squire, in French, as hard as stone,
Or strong as rock, that's all as one,
On face on cards is very brisk, sirs,
Because on them you play at whisk, sirs.
But much I wonder, why my crany
Should envied be by De-el-any:
And yet much more that half-namesake
Should join a party in the freak.
For sure I am it was not safe
Thus to abuse his better half,
As I shall prove you, Dan, to be,
Divisim and conjunctively.
For if Dan love not Sherry, can
Sherry be anything to Dan?
This is the case whene'er you see
Dan makes nothing of Sherry;
Or should Dan be by Sherry o'erta'en,
Then Dan would be poor Sherridane;
'Tis hard then he should be decried
By Dan, with Sherry by his side.
764
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
But, if the case must be so hard,
That faces suffer by a card,
Let critics censure, what care I?
Backbiters only we defy,
Faces are free from injury.
MR. ROCHFORT'S REPLY.
You say your face is better hung
Than ours-by what? by nose or tongue?
In not explaining you are wrong
to us, sir.
Because we thus must state the case,
That you have got a hanging face,
Th' untimely end's a damn'd disgrace
of noose, sir.
But yet be not cast down: I see
A weaver will your hangman be:
You'll only hang in tapestry
with many;
dear Danny.
And then the ladies, I suppose,
Will praise your longitude of nose,
For latent charms within your clothes,
Thus will the fair of every age
From all parts make their pilgrimage,
Worship thy nose with pious rage
of love, sir:
All their religion will be spent
About thy woven monument,
And not one orison be sent
to Jove, sir.
You the famed idol will become,
As gardens graced in ancient Rome,
By matrons worshipp'd in the gloom
of night.
O happy Dan! thrice happy sure!
Thy fame for ever shall endure,
Who after death can love secure
at sight.
So far I thought it was my duty
To dwell upon thy boasted beauty;
Now I'll proceed: a word or two t' ye
To that part where you carry on
This paradox, that rock and stone,
In
your opinion, are all one :
in answer
How can, sir,
A man of reasoning so profound
So stupidly be run a-ground,
As things so different to confound
t' our senses?
Except you judged them by the knock
Of near an equal hardy block;
Such an experimental stroke
convinces.
Then might you be, by dint of reason,
A prroper judge on this occasion;
'Gainst feeling there's no disputation,
Therefore to thy superior wit,
Who made the trial, we submit ;
Thy head to prove the truth of it
is granted:
we wanted.
In one assertion you're to blame,
Where Dan and Sherry's made the same,
Endeavouring to have your name
refined, sir:
You'll see most grossly you mistook,
If you consult your spelling-book,
(The better half you say you took,)
you'll find, sir,
S, H, E, she-and R, I, ri,
Both put together make Sherry;
D, A, N, Dan-makes up the three
syllables;
Dan is but one, and Sherry two,
Then, sir, your choice will never do;
Therefore, I've turn'd, my friend, on you
the tables.
DR. DELANY'S REPLY.
ASSIST me, my Muse, while I labour to limn hin.
Credite, Pisones, isti tabulæ persimilem.
You look and you write with so different a grace,
That I envy your verse, though I did not your face.
And to him that thinks rightly, there's reason enough,
'Cause one is as smooth as the other is rough.
But much I'm amazed you should think my design
Was to rhyme down your nose, or your harlequin grin,
Which you yourself wonder the de'el should malign.
And if 'tis so strange that your monstership's crany
Should be envied by him, much less by Delany;
Though I own to you, when I consider it stricter,
envy the painter, although not the picture.
And justly she's envied, since a fiend of hell
Was never drawn right but by her and Raphael.
I
Next, as to the charge, which you tell us is true,
That we were inspired by the subject we drew.
Inspired we were, and well, sir, you knew it ;
Yet not by your nose, but the fair one that drew it;
Had your nose been the Muse, we had ne'er been
inspired,
fired.
Though perhaps it might justly 've been said we were
As to the division of words in your staves,
Like my countryman's horn-comb into three halves,
I meddle not with 't, but presume to make merry,
You call'd Dan one half, and t'other half Sherry :
Now if Dan's a half, as you call't o'er and o’er,
Then it can't be denied that Sherry's two more.
For pray give me leave to say, sir, for all
you,
That Sherry's at least of double the value.
But perhaps, sir, you did it to fill up the verse;
So crowds in a concert (like actors in farce)
Play two parts in one, when scrapers are scarce.
But be that as 'twill, you'll know more anon, sir,
When Sheridan sends to merry Dan answer.
SHERIDAN'S REPLY.
THREE merry lads you own we are;
'Tis very true, and free from care:
But envious we cannot bear,
believe, sir:
For, were all forms of beauty thine,
Were you like Nercus soft and fine,
We should not in the least repine,
or grieve, sir.
Then know from us, most beauteous Dan,
That roughness best becomes a man;
'Tis women should be pale and wan,
and taper;
And all your trifling beaux and fops,
Who comb their brows and sleek their chaps,
Are but the offspring of toy-shops,
mere vapour.
We know your morning hours you pass
To cull and gather out a face ;
Is this the way you take your glass?
Forbear it:
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
765
Those loads of paint upon your toilet
Will never mend your face, but spoil it,
It looks as if you did parboil it :
Drink claret.
Your cheeks, by sleeking, are so lean,
That they're like Cynthia in the wane,
Or breast of goose when 'tis pick'd clean,
or pullet:
See what by drinking you have done :
You've made your phiz a skeleton,
From the long distance of your crown,
t' your gullet.
A REJOINDER.
BY THE DEAN IN JACKSON'S NAME.
WEARIED with saying grace and prayer,
I hasten'd down to country air,
To read your answer, and prepare
reply to't:
But your fair lines so grossly flatter,
Pray do they praise me or bespatter?
I must suspect you mean the latter—
It must be so! what else, alas!
Can mean my culling of a face,
And all that stuff of toilet, glass,
Ah! slyboot!
and box-comb?
But be't as 'twill, this you must grant,
That you're a daub, whilst I but paint;
Then which of us two is the quaint-
er coxcomb?
I value not your jokes of noose,
Your gibes and all your foul abuse,
More than the dirt beneath my shoes,
nor fear it
Yet one thing vexes me,
I own,
Thou sorry scarecrow of skin and bone;
To be call'd lean by a skeleton,
who'd bear it?
'Tis true, indeed, to curry friends,
You seem to praise, to make amends,
And yet, before your stanza ends,
you flout me,
about me:
'Bout latent charms beneath my clothes,
For every one that knows me, knows
That I have nothing like my nose
I pass now where you fleer and laugh,
'Cause I call Dan my better half!
O there you think you have me safe!
But hold, sir:
Is not a penny often found
To be much greater than a pound?
By your good leave, my most profound
and bold sir,
dull pedant!
Dan s noble metal, Sherry base;
So Dan's the better, though the less,
An ounce of gold's worth ten of brass,
As to your spelling, let me see,
If SHE makes sher, and RI makes ry,
Good spelling-master; your crany
ANOTHER REJOINDER.
BY THE DEAN IN JACKSON'S NAME.
THREE days for answer I have waited,
I thought an ace you'd ne'er have bated;
And art thou forced to yield, ill-fated
has lead in't.
poctaster?
Henceforth acknowledge that a nose
Of thy dimension's fit for prose;
But every one that knows Dan knows
thy master.
Blush for ill spelling, for ill lines,
And fly with hurry to Rathmines ;a
Thy fame, thy genius, now declines,
proud boaster.
I hear with some concern your roar,
And flying think to quit the score
By clapping billets on your door
and posts, sir.
Thy ruin, Tom, I never meant,
I'm grieved to hear your banishment.
But pleased to find you do relent
and cry on.
I maul'd you when you look'd so bluff,
But now I'll secret keep your stuff;
For know prostration is enough
to th❜lion.
SHERIDAN'S SUBMISSION.
BY THE Dean.
"Cedo jam, miseræ cognoscens præmia rixæ,
Si rixa est, ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum."
POOR Sherry, inglorious,
To Dan, the victorious,
Presents as 'tis fitting,
Petition and greeting.
To you, victorious and brave,
Your now subdued and suppliant slave
Most humbly sues for pardon;
Who when I fought still cut me down,
And when I, vanquish'd, fled the town,
Pursued and laid me hard on.
Now lowly crouch'd, I cry peccavi,
And prostrate, supplicate pour ma vie ;
Your mercy I rely on;
For you, my conqueror and my king,
In pardoning, as in punishing,
Will show yourself a lion.
Alas! sir, I had no design,
But was unwarily drawn in;
For spite I ne'er had any;
'Twas the damn'd squire with the hard name;
The de'il too that owed me a shame,
The devil and Delany;
They tempted me t'attack your highness,
And then, with wonted wile and slyness,
They left me in the lurch:
Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween,
I've nothing left to vent my spleen
But ferula and birch :
And they, alas! yield small relief,
Seem rather to renew my grief,
My wounds bleed all anew :
For every stroke goes to my heart,
And at each lash I feel the smart
Of lash laid on by you.
THE PARDON.
THE suit which humbly you have made
Is fully and maturely weigh'd;
And as 'tis your petition,
I do forgive, for well I know,
Since you're so bruised, another blow
Would break the head of Priscian.
'Tis not my purpose or intent
That you should suffer banishment;
A village near Dublin.
766
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
I pardon, now you ve courted;
về
And yet I fear this clemency
Will come too late to profit thee,
For you're with grief transported.
However, this I do command,
That you your birch do take in hand,
Read concord and syntax on;
The bays, you own, are only mine,
Do you then still your nouns decline,
Since you've declined Dan Jackson.
THE LAST SPEECH AND DYING WORDS
OF DANIEL JACKSON,
MY DEAR COUNTRYMEN,
MEDIOCRIBUS esse poetis
Non funes, non gryps, non concessere columnæ.
To give you a short translation of these two lines.
from "Horace's Art of Poetry," which I have chosen
for my neck-verse, before I proceed to my speech,
you will find they fall naturally into this sense:-
For poets who can't tell [high] rocks from stones,
The rope, the hangman, and the gallows groans.
I was born in a fen near the foot of Mount Par-
nassus, commonly called the Logwood Bog. My
mother, whose name was Stanza, conceived me in a
dream, and was delivered of me in her sleep. Her
dream was, that Apollo, in the shape of a gander
with a prodigious long bill, had embraced her; upon
which she consulted the Oracle of Delphos, and the
following answer was made :-
You'll have a gosling-call it Dan,
And do not make your goose a swan.
'Tis true, because the god of wit
To get him in that shape thought fit,
He'll have some glowworm sparks of it.
Venture you may to turn him loose,
But let it be to another goose.
The time will come, the fatal time,
When he shall dare a swan to rhyme ;
The tow'ring swan comes sousing down,
And breaks his pinions, cracks his crown.
From that sad time, and sad disaster,
He'll be a lame, crack'd poetaster.
At length for stealing rhymes and triplets
He'll be content to hang in giblets.
You see now, gentlemen, this is fatally and lite-
rally come to pass; for it was my misfortune to en-
gage with that Pindar of the times, Tom Sheridan,
who did so confound me by sousing on my crown,
and did so batter my pinions, that I was forced to
make use of borrowed wings, though my false ac-
cusers have deposed that I stole my feathers from
Hopkins, Sternhold, Silvester, Ogilby, Durfey, &c.,
for which I now forgive them and all the world.
die a poet; and this ladder shall be my Gradus ad
Parnassum; and I hope the critics will have mercy
on my works.
Then lo, I mount as slowly as I sung,
And then I'll make a line for every rung;a
There's nine, I see, the Muses, too, are nine.
Who would refuse to die a death like mine?
1. Thou first rung, Clio, celebrate my name;
2. Euterp, in tragic numbers do the same.
3. This rung, I see, Terpsichore's thy flute;
4. Erato, sing me to the gods; ah, do't;
5. Thalia, don't make me a comedy;
6. Urania, raise me tow'rds the starry sky:
7. Calliope, to ballad-strains descend,
8. And, Polyhymnia, tune them for your friend;
9. So shall Melpomene mourn my fatal end.
POOR DAN JACKSON.
The Yorkshire term for the rounds or steps of a ladder.
I
TO THE REV. DANIEL JACKSON.
TO BE HUMBLY PRESENTED BY MR. SHERIDAN IN PERSON,
WITH RESPECT, care, and speed.
DEAR DAN,
HERE I return my trust, nor ask
One penny for remittance;
If I have well perform'd my task,
Pray send me an acquittance.
Too long I bore this weighty pack,
As Hercules the sky;
Now take him you, Dan Atlas, back,
Let me be stander-by.
Not all the witty things you speak
In compass of a day,
Not half the puns you make a-week,
Should bribe his longer stay.
With me you left him out at nurse,
Yet are you not my debtor;
For, as he hardly can be worse,
I ne'er could make him better.
He rhymes and puns, and puns and rhymes,
Just as he did before;
And, when he's lash'd an hundred times,
He rhymes and puns the more.
When rods are laid on schoolboys' bums,
The more they frisk and skip:
The schoolboys' top but louder hums
The more they use the whip.
Thus, a lean beast beneath a load
(A beast of Irish breed)
Will, in a tedious dirty road,
Outgo the prancing steed.
You knock him down and down in vain,
And lay him flat before ye,
For soon as he gets up again,
He'll strut and cry Victoria!
At every stroke of mine he fell ;
'Tis true he roar'd and cried
But his impenetrable shell
Could feel no harm beside.
The tortoise thus, with motion slow,
Will clamber.up a wall;
Yet, senseless to the hardest blow,
Gets nothing but a fall.
Dear Dan, then, why should you, or I,
Attack his pericrany?
And, since it is in vain to try,
We'll send him to Delany.
POSTSCRIPT.
LEAN TOM, when I saw him last week on his horse
awry,
Threaten'd loudly to turn me to stone with his sorcery.
But, I think, little Dan, that in spite of what our foe
says,
He will find I read Ovid and his Metamorphoses,
For omitting the first (where I make a comparison,
With a sort of allusion to Putland or Harrison),
Yet, by my description, you'll find he in short is
A pack and a garran, a top and a tortoise.
So I hope from henceforward you ne'er will ask can I
This teazing, conceited, rude, insolent animal ?
And, if this rebuke might turn to his benefit,
(For I pity the man,) I should be glad then of it.
SHERIDAN TO SWIFT.
[maul
A HIGHLANDER once fought a Frenchman at Mar-
gate,
The weapons a rapier, a backsword, and target:
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
767
Brisk Monsieur advanced as fast as he could,
But all his fine pushes were caught in the wood;
While Sawney with backsword did slash him and
nick him,
[him,
While t'other, enraged that he could not once prick
Cried "Sirrah, you rascal, you son of a whore,
Me'll fight you, begar, if you'll come from your
door!"
Our case is the same; if you'll fight like a man,
Don't fly from my weapon and skulk behind Dan;
For he's not to be pierced; his leather's so tough,
The devil himself can't get through his buff.
Besides, I cannot but say that it is hard,
Not only to make him your shield, but your vizard;
And like a tragedian, you rant and you roar,
Through the horrible grin of your larva's wide bore.
Nay, farther, which makes me complain much, and
frump it,
You make his long nose your loud speaking trumpet;
With the din of which tube my head you so bother,
That I scarce can distinguish my right ear from
'other.
You made me in your last a goose;
I lay my life on't you are wrong,
To raise me by such foul abuse;
My quill you'll find's a woman's tongue;
And slit, just like a bird will chatter,
And like a bird do something more
When I let fly, 'twill so bespatter,
I'll change you to a blackamoor.
I'll write while I have half an eye in my head;
I'll write while I live, and I'll write when you're
dead.
Though you call me a goose, you pitiful slave.
I'll feed on the grass that grows on your grave.
SWIFT TO SHERIDAN, IN REPLY.
Tом, for a goose you keep but base quills,
They're fit for nothing else but pasquils,
I've often heard it from the wise,
That inflammations in the eyes
Will quickly fall upon the tongue.
And thence, as famed John Bunyan sung,
From out the pen will presently
On paper dribble daintily.
Suppose I call'd you goose, it is hard
One word should stick thus in your gizzard
You're my goose no other man's;
And you know, all my geese are swans:
Only one scurvy thing I find,
Swans sing when dying, geese when blind.
But now I smoke where lies the slander,-
I call'd you goose instead of gander:
For that, dear Tom, ne'er fret and vex,
I'm sure you cackle like the sex.
I know the gander always goes
With a quill stuck across his nose :
So your eternal pen is still
Or in your claw, or in your bill.
But whether you can tread or hatch,
I've something else to do than watch
As for your writing I am dead,
I leave it for the second head.
Deanery-house, Oct. 27, 1718.
SHERIDAN TO SWIFT
I CAN'T but wonder, Mr. Dean,
To see you live, so often slain.
My arrows fly and fly in vain,
But still I try and try again.
I'm now, sir, in a writing vein;
Don't think, like you, I squeeze and strain,
Perhaps you'll ask me what I mean;
I will not tell, because it's plain.
Your Muse, I am told, is in the wane;
If so, from pen and ink refrain.
Indeed, believe me, I'm in pain
For her and you; your life's a scene
Of verse, and rhymes, and hurricane,
Enough to crack the strongest brain.
Now to conclude, I do remain,
Your honest friend,
TOM SHERIDAN
SWIFT TO SHERIDAN.
Poor Tom, wilt thou never accept a defiance,
Though I dare you to more than quadruple alliance?
You're so retrograde, sure you were born under
Cancer;
[swer?
Must I make myself hoarse with demanding an an-
If this be your practice, mean scrub I assure ye,
And swear by each Fate and your new friends, each
Fury,
I'll drive you to Cavan, from Cavan to Dundalk ;
I'll tear all your rules, and demolish your pun-talk:
Nay, further, the moment you're free from your
scalding,
I'll chew you to bullets, and puff you at Baldwin,
MARY THE COOK-MAID'S LETTER
TO DR. SHERIDAN. 1723.
WELL, if ever I saw such another man since my
mother bound up my head!
You a gentleman! Marry come up! I wonder where
you were bred.
I'm sure such words does not become a man of your
cloth;
I would not give such language to a dog, faith and
troth.
Yes, you call'd my master a knave; fie, Mr. Sheri-
dan! 'tis a shame
For a parson, who should know better things, to
come out with such a name.
Knave in your teeth, Mr. Sheridan! 'tis both a
shame and a sin
And the dean, my master, is an honester man than
you and all your kin:
He has more goodness in his little finger than you
have in your whole body:
My master is a parsonable man, and not a spindle-
shank'd hoddy doddy.
And now, whereby I find you would fain make an
excuse,
Because my master one day in anger call'd you a
goose:
Which, and I am sure I have been his servant four
years since October,
And he never call'd me worse than sweetheart,
drunk or sober:
Not that I know his reverence was ever concern'd
to my knowledge,
Though you and your come-rogues keep him out
so late in your college.
You say you will eat grass on his grave: a chris-
tian eat grass!
Whereby you now confess yourself to be a goose
or an ass:
But that's as much as to say that my master should
die before ye;
Well, well, that's as God pleases; and I don't be-
lieve that's a true story:
And so say I told you so, and you may go tell my
master; what care I?
And I don't care who knows it; 'tis all one to Mary.
768
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
Everybody knows that I love to tell truth, and
shame the devil;
I am but a poor servant; but I think gentlefolks
should be civil.
Besides, you found fault with our victuals one day
that you was here;
I remember it was on a Tuesday, of all days in
the year.
And Saunders, the man, says you are always jest-
ing and mocking:
Mary, said he (one day as I was mending my mas-
ter's stocking),
My master is so fond of that minister that keeps
the school-
I thought my master a wise man, but that man
makes him a fool.
Saunders, said I, I would rather than a quart of
ale
He would come into our kitchen, and I would pin
a dishclout to his tail.
And now I must go, and get Saunders to direct this
letter;
For I write but a bad scrawl; but my sister Mar-
get she writes better.
Well, but I must run and make the bed, before my
master comes from prayers:
And see now, it strikes ten, and I hear him coming
up stairs;
Whereof I could say more to your verses, if I could
write written hand;
And so I remain, in a civil way, your servant to
command,
MARY.
A PORTRAIT
FROM THE LIFE.
COME, sit by my side, while this picture I draw:
In chattering a magpie, in pride a jackdaw;
A temper the devil himself could not bridle;
Impertinent mixture of busy and idle;
As rude as a bear, no mule half so crabbed;
She swills like a sow, and she breeds like a rabbit;
A housewife in bed, at table a slattern;
For all an example, for no one a pattern.
Now tell me, friend Thomas,a Ford, Grattan,c and
Merry Dan,d
Has this any likeness to good madam Sheridan ?
ON STEALING A CROWN,
WHEN THE DEAN WAS ASLEEP.
DEAR dean, since you in sleepy wise
Have oped your mouth and closed your eyes,
Like ghost I glide along your floor,
And softly shut the parlour door:
For, should I break your sweet repose,
Who knows what money you might lose :
Since oftentimes it has been found
A dream has given ten thousand pound?
Then sleep, my friend: dear dean, sleep on,
And all you get shall be your own;
Provided you to this agree,
That all you lose belongs to me.
THE DEAN'S ANSWER.
So, about twelve at night, the punk
Steals from the cully when he's drunk:
Nor is contented with a treat,
Without her privilege to cheat:
Nor can I the least difference find,
But that you left no clap behind.
Dr. Thos. Sheridan.
e Rev. John Grattan.
b Chas. Ford, of Woodpark.
d Rev. Daniel Jackson.
But, jest apart, restore, you capon ye,
My twelve thirteensa and sixpence-ha'penny.
To eat my meat and drink my medlicot,
And then to give me such a deadly cut-
But 'tis observed, that men in gowns
Are most inclined to plunder crowns.
Could you but change a crown as casy
As you can steal one, how 'twould please ye!
I thought the ladyb at St. Catherine's
Knew how to set you better patterns;
For this I will not dine with Agmondisham,c
And for his victuals, let a ragman dish 'em.
A PROLOGUE TO A PLAY
PERFORMED AT MR. SHERIDAN'S SCHOOL.
Spoken by one of the scholars.
As in a silent night a lonely swain,
'Tending his flocks on the Pharsalian plain,
To heaven around directs his wandering eyes,
And every look finds out a new surprise;
So great's our wonder, ladies, when we view
Our lower sphere made more serene by you,
O! could such light in my dark bosom shine,
What life, what vigour, should adorn each line!
Beauty and virtue should be all my theme,
And Venus brighten my poetic flame.
The advent' rous painter's fate and mine are one,
Who fain would draw the bright meridian sun;
Majestic light his feeble art defies,
And for presuming, robs him of his eyes.
Then blame your power, that my inferior lays
Sink far below your too exalted praise :
Don't think we flatter, your applause to gain :
No, we're sincere,-to flatter you were vain.
You spurn at fine encomiums misapplied,
And all perfections but your beauties hide.
Then, as you're fair, we hope you will be kind,
Nor frown on those you see so well inclined
To please you most. Grant us your smiles, and then
Those sweet rewards will make us act like men.
THE EPILOGUE.
Now all is done, ye learn'd spectators, tell,
Have we not play'd our parts extremely well?
We think we did, but if you do complain,
We're all content to act the play again :
'Tis but three hours or thereabouts, at most,
And time well spent in school cannot be lost.
But what makes you frown, you gentlemen above?
We guess'd long since you all desired to move:
But that's in vain, for we'll not let a man stir
Who does not take up Plautus first, and construe.
Him we'll dismiss that understands the play;
He who does not, i'faith, he's like to stay.
Though this new method may provoke your laughter,
To act plays first, and understand them after;
We do not care, for we will have our humour,
And will try you, and you, and you, sir, and one or
two more.
Why don't you stir? there's not a man will budge;
How much they've read, I'll leave you all to judge.
THE SONG.
A parody on the popular song beginning,
"
My time, O ye Muses, was happily spent."
My time, O ye Grattans, was happily spent
When Bacchus went with me wherever I went;
For then I did nothing but sing, laugh, and jest;
Was ever a toper so merrily bless'd?
A shilling passes for thirteenponce in Ireland.
Lady Mountcashel,
• Agmondisham Vesey, esq., of Lucan, in the county of Dub-
lin, comptroller and accomptant-general of Ireland.
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
769
But now I so cross and so peevish am grown,
Because I must go to my wife back to town;
To the fondling and toying of "honey," and "dear,”
And the conjugal comforts of horrid small beer.
My daughter I ever was pleased to see
Come fawning and begging to ride on my
knee:
My wife, too, was pleased, and to the child said,
Come, hold in your belly, and hold up your head:
But now, out of humour, I with a sour look
Cry, hussy, and give her a souse with my book;
And I'll give her another; for why should she play,
Since my Bacchus, and glasses, and friends, are
Wine, what of thy delicate hue is become, [away?
That tinged our glasses with blue, like a plum?
Those bottles, those bumpers, why do they not smile,
While we sit carousing and drinking the while?
Ah, bumpers, I see that our wine is all done,
Our mirth falls of course, when our Bacchus is gone.
Then since it is so, bring me here a supply;
Begone, froward wife, for I'll drink till I die.
TO QUILCA.
A COUNTRY-HOUSE OF DR. SHERIDAN, IN NO VERY
GOOD REPAIR. 1725.
LET me thy properties explain:
A rotten cabin, dropping rain :
Chimneys, with scorn rejecting smoke;
Stools, tables, chairs, and bedsteads broke.
Here elements have lost their uses,
Air ripens not, nor earth produces:
In vain we make poor Sheelaha toil,
Fire will not roast, nor water boil.
Through all the valleys, hills, and plains,
The goddess Want in triumph reigns;
And her chief officers of state,
Sloth, Dirt, and Theft, around her wait.
THE BLESSINGS OF A COUNTRY LIFE.
1725.
FAR from our debtors; no Dublin letters;
Nor seen by our betters.
THE PLAGUES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.
A COMPANION with news; a great want of shoes;
Eat lean meat or choose; a church without pews;
Our horses astray; no straw, oats, or hay; [at play.
December in May; our boys run away; all servants
A LETTER TO THE DEAN,
WHEN IN ENGLAND. 1726.
BY DR. SHERIDAN.
You will excuse me, I suppose,
For sending rhyme instead of prose.
Because hot weather makes me lazy,
To write in metre is more easy.
While you are trudging London town,
I'm strolling Dublin up and down;
While you converse with lords and dukes,
I have their betters here, my books:
Fix'd in an elbow-chair at ease,
I choose companions as I please.
I'd rather have one single shelf
Than all my friends, except yourself;
For, after all that can be said,
Our best acquaintance are the dead.
While you're in raptures with Faustina;
I'm charm'd at home with your Sheelina.
While you are starving there in state,
I'm cramming here with butchers' meat.
• The name of an Irish sorvant.
Signora Faustina, a famous Italian singer.
VOL. I.
You say, when with those lords you dine,
They treat you with the best of wine,
Burgundy, Cyprus, and Tokay;
Why, so can we, as well as they.
No reason then, my dear good dean,
But you should travel home again.
What though you mayn't in Ireland hope
To find such folk as Gay and Pope;
If you with rhymers here would share
But half the wit that you can spare,
I'd lay twelve eggs that in twelve days
You'd make a dozen of Popes and Gays.
Our weather's good, our sky is clear;
We've every joy, if you were here;
So lofty and so bright a sky
Was never seen by Ireland's eye!
I think it fit to let you know
This week I shall to Quilca go;
To see M Faden's horny brothers
First suck, and after bull their mothers;
To see, alas! my wither'd trees!
To see what all the country sees!
My stunted quicks, my famish'd beeves,
My servants such a pack of thieves;
My shatter'd firs, my blasted oaks,
My house in common to all folks,
No cabbage for a single snail,
My turnips, carrots, parsnips, fail;
My no green peas, my few green sprouts;
My mother always in the pouts ;
My horses rid or gone astray;
My fish all stolen or run away;
My mutton lean, my pullets old,
My poultry starved, the corn all sold.
A man come now from Quilca says,
"They'vea stol'n the locks from all your keys ;"
But, what must fret and vex me more,
He says, "They stole the keys before.
They've stol'n the knives from all the forks;
And half the cows from half the sturks."
Nay more, the fellow swears and vows,
"They've stol'n the sturks from half the cows:"
With many more accounts of woe,-
Yet, though the devil be there, I'll go :
"Twixt you and me, the reason's clear,
Because I've more vexation here.
A FAITHFUL INVENTORY
ON THE FURNITURE BELONGING TO
IN T. C. D.
ROOM,
IN IMITATION OF DR. SWIFT'S MANNER.
Written in the year 1725.
Quæque ipse miserrima vidi.-VIRG.
IMPRIMIS, there's a table blotted,
A tatter'd hanging all bespotted.
A bed of flocks, as I may rank it
Reduced to rug and half a blanket
A tinder-box without a flint
An oaken desk with nothing in't;
A pair of tongs bought from a broker,
A fender and a rusty poker;
A penny pot and basin, this
Design'd for water, that for piss;
A broken-winded pair of bellows,
Two knives and forks, but neither fellows;
Item, a surplice, not unmeeting
Either for table-cloth or sheeting;
There is likewise a pair of breeches,
But patch'd and fallen in the stitches,
They is the grand thief of the county of Cavan: for what-
ever is stolen, if you inquire of a servant about it, the answer
is, "They have stolen it."
3 D
770
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
Hung up in study very little,
Plaster'd with cobweb and spittle,
An airy prospect all so pleasing,
From my light window without glazing.
A trencher and a college bottle
Piled up on Locke and Aristotle.
A prayer-book, which he seldom handles;
A save-all and two farthing candles.
A smutty ballad, musty libel,
A Burger's dicius and a bible.
The C**** Seasons and the Senses
By Overton, to save expenses.
Item (if I am not much mistaken),
A mouse-trap with a bit of bacon.
A candlestick without a snuffer,
Whereby his fingers often suffer.
Two odd old shoes I should not skip here,
Each strapless serves instead of slipper.
And chairs a couple, I forgot 'em,
But each of them without a bottom.
Thus I in rhyme have comprehended
His goods, and so my schedule's ended.
PALINODIA.
HORACE, BOOK I. ODE XVI.
GREAT sir, than Phœbus more divine,
Whose verses far his rays outshine,
Look down upon your quondam foe ;
O! let me never write again,
If e'er I disoblige you, dean,
Should you compassion show.
Take those iambics which I wrote,
When anger made me piping hot,
And give them to your cook,
To singe your fowl or save your paste
The next time when you have a feast;
They'll save you many a book.
To burn them you are not content;
I give you then my free consent
To sink them in the harbour:
If not, they'll serve to set off blocks,
To roll on pipes, and twist in locks;
So give them to your barber.
Or, when you next your physic take,
I must entreat you then to make
A proper application;
'Tis what I've done myself before,
With Dan's fine thoughts and many more,
Who gave me provocation.
What cannot mighty anger do?
It makes the weak the strong pursue,
A goose attack a swan ;
It makes a woman, tooth and nail,
Her husband's hands and face assail,
While he's no longer man.
Though some, we find, are more discreet,
Before the world are wondrous sweet,
And let their husbands hector:
But when the world's asleep, they wake,
That is the time they choose to speak:
Witness the curtain lecture.
Such was the case with you, I find;
All day you could conceal your mind;
But when St. Patrick's chimes
Awaked your muse, (my midnight curse,
When I engaged for better for worse,)
You scolded with your rhymes.
Have done! have done! I quit the field,
To you as to my wife, I yield :
As she must wear the breeches:
So shall you wear the laurel crown,
Win it and wear it, 'tis your own;
The poet's only riches.
ON THE FIVE LADIES AT SOT'S HOLE,ª
WITH THE DOCTOR AT THEIR HEAD.
N.B. The ladies treated the doctor.
SENT AS FROM AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY.
FAIR ladies, number five,
Who in your merry freaks
With little Tom contrive
To feast on ale and steaks;
While he sits by a-grinning
To see you safe in Sot's hole,
Set up with greasy linen,
And neither mugs nor pots whole;
Alas! I never thought
A priest would please your palate;
Besides, I'll hold a groat
He'll put you in a ballad;
Where I shall see your faces,
On paper daub'd so foul,
They'll be no more like graces,
Then Venus like an owl.
And we shall take you rather
To be a midnight pack
Of witches met together,
With Beelzebub in black.
It fills my heart with woe
To think such ladies fine
Should be reduced so low
To treat a dull divine.
Be by a parson cheated!
Had you been cunning stagers,
You might yourselves be treated
By captains and by majors.
See how corruption grows,
While mothers, daughters, aunts,
Instead of powder'd beaux,
From pulpits choose gallants.
If we, who wear our wigs
With fantail and with snake,
Are bubbled thus by prigs,
Z-ds! who would be a rake?
Had I a heart to fight,
I'd knock the doctor down;
Or could I read or write,
Egad! I'd wear a gown.
Then leave him to his birch ;c
And at the Rose on Sunday,
The parson safe at church,
I'll treat you with burgundy.
1728.
THE FIVE LADIES' ANSWER TO THE
BEAU,
WITH THE WIG AND WINGS AT HIS HEAD.
BY DR. SHERIDAN
You little scribbling beau,
What demon made you write?
Because to write you know
As much as you can fight.
For compliment so scurvy,
I wish we had you here;
We'd turn you topsy-turvy
Into a mug of beer.
An alehouse in Dublin, famous for beef-steaks.
b Doctor Thomas Sheridan.
• Dr. Sheridan was a schoolmaster.
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
771
You thought to make a farce on
The man and place we chose ;
We're sure a single parson
Is worth a hundred beaux.
And you would make us vassals,
Good Mr. Wig and Wings,
To silver clocks and tassels ;
You would, you Thing of Things!
Because around your cane
A ring of diamonds is set;
And you, in some by-lane,
Have gain'd a paltry grisette;
Shall we, of sense refined,
Your trifling nonsense bear,
As noisy as the wind,
As empty as the air?
We hate your empty prattle;
And vow and swear 'tis true,
There's more in one child's rattle
Than twenty fops like you.
THE BEAU'S REPLY
TO THE FIVE LADIES' ANSWER.
WHY, how now, dapper black !
I smell your gown and cassock,
As strong upon your back
As Tisdalla smells of a sock.
To write such scurvy stuff!
Fine ladies never do't;
I know you well enough,
And eke your cloven foot.
Fine ladies, when they write,
Nor scold, nor keep a splutter;
Their verses give delight,
As soft and sweet as butter.
But Satan never saw
Such haggard lines as these:
They stick athwart my maw,
As bad as Suffolk cheese.
DR. SHERIDAN'S BALLAD
ON BALLYSPELLIN.
1728.
ALL you that would refine your blood
As pure as famed Llewellyn,
By waters clear, come every year
To drink at Ballyspellin.
Though pox or itch your skins enrich
With rubies past the telling,
'Twill clear your skin before you've been
A month at Ballyspellin.
If lady's cheek be green as leek
When she comes from her dwelling,
The kindling rose within it glows
When she's at Ballyspellin.
The sooty brown, who comes from town,
Grows here as fair as Helen ;
Then back she goes, to kill the beaux,
By dint of Ballyspellin.
Our ladies are as fresh and fair
As Rose or bright Dunkelling:
And Mars might make a fair mistake,
Were he at Ballyspellin.
We men submit as they think fit,
And here is no rebelling:
The reason's plain; the ladies reign,
They're queens at Ballyspellin.
A clergyman in the north of Ireland, who had made.
pro-
posals of marriage to Stella.
A famous spa in the county of Kilkenny, where the doctor
had been to drink the waters with a favourite lady.
By matchless charms, unconquer'd arms,
They have the way of quelling
Such desperate foes as dare oppose
Their power at Ballyspellin.
Cold water turns to fire, and burns,
I know, because I fell in
A stream, which came from one bright dame
Who drank at Ballyspellin.
Fine beaux advance, equipp'd for dance,
To bring their Anne or Nell in,
With so much grace, I'm sure no place
Can vie with Ballyspellin.
No politics, no subtle tricks,
No man his country selling:
We eat, we drink; we never think
Of these at Ballyspellin.
The troubled mind, the puff'd with wind,
Do all come here pell-mell in ;
And they are sure to work their cure
By drinking Ballyspellin.
Though dropsy fills you to the gills,
From chin to toe though swelling,
Pour in, pour out, you cannot doubt
A cure at Ballyspellin.
Death throws no darts through all these parts,
No sextons here are knelling;
Come, judge and try, you'll never die,
But live at Ballyspellin.
Except you feel darts tipp'd with steel,
Which here are every belle in :
When from their eyes sweet ruin flies,
We die at Ballyspellin.
Good cheer, sweet air, much joy, no care,
Your sight, your taste, your smelling,
Your ears, your touch, transported much
Each day at Ballyspellin.
Within this ground we all sleep sound,
No noisy dogs a-yelling;
Except you wake, for Celia's sake,
All night at Ballyspellin.
There all you see, both he and she,
No lady keeps her cell in;
But all partake the mirth we make,
Who drink at Ballyspellin.
My rhymes are gone; I think I've none,
Unless I should bring hell in ;
But, since I'm here to heaven so near,
I can't at Ballyspellin'
ANSWER. BY DR. SWIFT.
DARE you dispute, you saucy brute,
And think there's no refelling
Your scurvy lays, and senseless praise
You give to Ballyspellin?
Howe'er you flounce, I here pronounce
Your medicine is repelling;
Your water's mud, and sours the blood
When drunk at Ballyspellin.
Those pocky drabs, to cure their scabs,
You thither are compelling,
Will back be sent worse than they went,
From nasty Ballyspellin.
Llewellyn why? As well may I
Name honest doctor Pellin;
So hard sometimes you tug for rhymes,
To bring in Ballyspellin.
3 D 2
772
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
No subject fit to try your wit,
When you went colonelling:
But dull intrigues 'twixt jades and teagues
You met at Ballyspellin.
Our lasses fair, say what you dare,
Who sowins make with shelling,
At Market-hill more beaux can kill
Than yours at Ballyspellin.
Would I was whipp'd when Sheelah stripp'd,
To wash herself our well in,
A bum so white ne'er came in sight
At paltry Ballyspellin.
Your mawkins there smocks hempen wear;
Of Holland not an ell in,
No, not a rag, whate'er you brag,
Is found at Ballyspellin.
But Tom will prate at any rate,
All other nymphs expelling:
Because he gets a few grisettes
At lousy Ballyspellin.
There's bonny Jane, in yonder lane,
Just o'er against the Bell inn;
Where can you meet a lass so sweet,
Round all your Ballyspellin?
We have a girl deserves an earl;
She came from Enniskellin;
So fair, so young, no such among
The belles of Ballyspellin.
How would you stare to see her there,
The foggy mists dispelling,
That cloud the brows of every blowse
Who lives at Ballyspellin !
Now, as I live, I would not give
A stiver or a skellin,
To towse and kiss the fairest miss
That leaks at Ballyspellin.
Whoe'er will raise such lies as these
Deserves a good cudgelling :
Who falsely boasts of belles and toasts
At dirty Ballyspellin.
My rhymes are gone to all but one,
Which is, our trees are felling;
As proper quite as those you write,
To force in Ballyspellin.
A NEW SIMILE FOR THE LADIES.
BY DR. SHERIDAN. 1733.
To make a writer miss his end,
You've nothing else to do but mend.
I OFTEN tried in vain to find
A simile for womankind,
A simile, I mean, to fit 'em,
In every circumstance to hit 'em.
Through every beast and bird I went,
I ransack'd every element;
And, after peeping through all nature,
To find so whimsical a creature,
A cloud presented to my view,
And straight this parallel I drew :
Clouds turn with every wind about,
They keep us in suspense and doubt,
Yet, oft perverse, like womankind,
Are seen to scud against the wind:
And are not women just the same?
For who can tell at what they aim?
Clouds keep the stoutest mortals under,
When, bellowing, they discharge their thunder:
So, when the alarum-bell is rung,
Of Xanti's everlasting tongue,
The husband dreads its loudness more
Than lightning's flash or thunder's roar.
Clouds weep, as they do, without pain;
And what are tears but women's rain?
The clouds about the welkin roam,
And ladies never stay at home.
The clouds build castles in the air,
A thing peculiar to the fair:
For all the schemes of their forecasting
Are not more solid nor more lasting.
A cloud is light by turns and dark,
Such is a lady with her spark ;
Now with a sudden pouting gloom
She seems to darken all the room;
Again she's pleased, his fears beguiled,
And all is clear when she has smiled.
In this they're wondrously alike,
(I hope the simile will strike,)
Though in the darkest dumps you view them.
Stay but a moment, you'll see through them.
The clouds are apt to make reflection,
And frequently produce infection;
So Celia, with small provocation,
Blasts every neighbour's reputation.
The clouds delight in gaudy show,
(For they, like ladies, have their bow ;)
The gravest matron will confess,
That she herself is fond of dress.
Observe the clouds in pomp array'd,
What various colours are display'd;
The pink, the rose, the violet's dye,
In that great drawing-room the sky;
How do these differ from our Graces,
In garden-silks, brocades, and laces?
Are they not such another sight,
When met upon a birthday night?
The clouds delight to change their fashion :-
Dear ladies, be not in a passion;
Nor let this whim to you seem strange,
Who every hour delight in change.
In them and you alike are seen
The sullen symptoms of the spleen;
The moment that your vapours rise
We see them dropping from your eyes.
In evening fair you may behold
The clouds are fringed with borrow'd gold;
And this is many a lady's case,
Who flaunts about in borrow'd lace.
Grave matrons are like clouds of snow,
Their words fall thick, and soft, and slow;
While brisk coquettes, like rattling hail,
Our ears on every side assail.
Clouds, when they intercept our sight,
Deprive us of celestial light;
So when my Chloe I pursue,
No heaven besides I have in view.
Thus, on comparison, you see,
In every instance they agree;
So like, so very much the same,
That one may go by t'other's name.
Let me proclaim it then aloud,
That every woman is a cloud.
AN ANSWER
BY DR. SWIFT.
१
PRESUMPTUOUS bard! how could you dare
A woman with a cloud compare
Strange pride and insolence you show,
Inferior mortals there below.
And is our thunder in your ears
So frequent or so loud as theirs?
Alas! our thunder soon goes out;
And only makes you more devout.
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
773
Then is not female clatter worse,
That drives you not to pray, but curse?
We hardly thunder thrice a-year ;
The bolt discharged, the sky grows clear;
But every sublunary dowdy,
The more she scolds, the more she's cloudy.
How useful were a woman's thunder,
If she, like us, would burst asunder:
Yet, though her stays hath often cursed her,
And, whisp'ring, wish'd the devil burst her-
For hourly thund'ring in his face,
She ne'er was known to burst a lace.
Some critic may object, perhaps,
That clouds are blamed for giving claps;
But what, alas! are claps ethereal,
Compared for mischief to venereal?
Can clouds give buboes, ulcers, blotches,
Or from your noses dig out notches?
We leave the body sweet and sound;
We kill, 'tis true, but never wound.
You know a cloudy sky bespeaks
Fair weather when the morning breaks;
But women in a cloudy plight
Foretell a storm to last till night.
A cloud in proper season pours
His blessings down in fruitful showers;
But woman was by fate design'd
To pour down curses on mankind.
When Sirius o'er the welkin rages,
Our kindly help his fire assuages:
But woman is a cursed inflamer,
No parish ducking-stool can tame her:
To kindle strife, dame Nature taught her;
Like fireworks, she can burn in water.
For fickleness how durst you blame us,
Who for our constancy are famous ?
You'll see a cloud in gentle weather
Keep the same face an hour together;
While women, if it could be reckon'd
Change every feature every second.
Observe our figure in a morning,
Of foul or fair we give you warning;
But can you guess from women's air
One minute, whether foul or fair?
Go read in ancient books enroll'd
What honours we possess'd of old.
To disappoint Ixion's rape
Jove dress'd a cloud in Juno's shape;
Which when he had enjoy'd, he swore,
No goddess could have pleased him more;
No difference could he find between
His cloud and Jove's imperial queen ;
His cloud produced a race of Centaurs,
Famed for a thousand bold adventures;
From us descended ab origine,
By learned authors called nubigenæ ;
But say, what earthly nymph do you know
So beautiful to pass for Juno?
Before Æneas durst aspire
To court her majesty of Tyre,
His mother begg'd of us to dress him,
That Dido might the more caress him :
A coat we gave him dyed in grain,
A flaxen wig, and clouded cane,
(The wig was powder'd round with sleet,
Which fell in clouds beneath his feet,)
With which he made a tearing show;
And Dido quickly smoked the beau.
Among your females make inquiries,
What nymph on earth so fair as Iris?
With heavenly beauty so endow'd?
And yet her father is a cloud.
We dress'd her in a gold brocade,
Befitting Juno's favourite maid.
'Tis known, that Socrates the wise
Adored us clouds as deities:
To us he made his daily prayers,
As Aristophanes declares ;
From Jupiter took all dominion.
And died defending his opinion.
By his authority 'tis plain
You worship other gods in vain ;
And from your own experience know
We govern all things there below.
You follow where we please to guide;
O'er all your passions we preside,
Can raise them up, or sink them down,
As we think fit to smile or frown:
And, just as we dispose your brain,
Are witty, dull, rejoice, complain.
Compare us then to female race!
We, to whom all the gods give place!
Who better challenge your allegiance,
Because we dwell in higher regions.
You find the gods in Homer dwell
In seas and streams or low as hell:
Ev'n Jove, and Mercury his pimp,
No higher climb than mount Olymp.
Who makes you think the clouds he pierces?
He pierce the clouds! he kiss their a—es !
While we, o'er Teneriffa placed,
Are loftier by a mile at least :
And, when Apollo struts on Pindus,
We see him from our kitchen windows;
Or, to Parnassus looking down,
Can piss upon his laurel crown.
Fate never form'd the gods to fly;
In vehicles they mount the sky:
When Jove would some fair nymph inveigle,
He comes full gallop on his eagle;
Though Venus be as light as air,
She must have doves to draw her chair;
Apollo stirs not out of door,
Without his lacquer'd coach and four;
And jealous Juno, ever snarling,
Is drawn by peacocks in her berlin :
But we can fly where'er we please,
O'er cities, rivers, hills, and seas:
From east to west the world we roam,
And in all climates are at home;
With care provide you as we go
With sunshine, rain, and hail, or snow.
You, when it rains, like fools, believe
Jove pisses on you through a sieve:
An idle tale, 'tis no such matter;
We only dip a sponge in water,
Then squeeze it close between our thumbs,
And shake it well, and down it comes;
As you shall to your sorrow know;
We'll watch your steps where'er you go;
And, since we find you walk a-foot,
We'll soundly souse your frieze surtout.
'Tis but by our peculiar grace
That Phoebus ever shows his face;
For, when we please, we open wide
Our curtains blue from side to side;
And then how saucily he shows
His brazen face and fiery nose;
And gives himself a haughty air,
As if he made the weather fair!
'Tis sung, wherever Celia treads,
The violets ope their purple heads;
The roses blow, the cowslip springs;
'Tis sung, but we know better things.
'Tis true a woman on her mettle
Will often piss upon a nettle ;
But though we own she makes it wetter,
The nettle never thrives the better;
774
TRIFLES PASSING BETWEEN
While we, by soft prolific showers,
Can every spring produce you flowers.
Your poets, Chloe's beauty height'ning,
Compare her radiant eyes to lightning ;
And yet I hope 'twill be allow'd,
That lightning comes but from a cloud.
But gods like us have too much sense
At poets' flights to take offence;
Nor can hyperboles demean us;
Each drab has been compared to Venus,
We own your verses are melodious ;
But such comparisons are odious.
Observe the case-I state it thus:
Though you compare your trull to us,
But think how damnably you err
When you compare us clouds to her;
From whence you draw such bold conclusions;
But poets love profuse allusions.
And, if you now so little spare us,
Who knows how soon you may compare us
To Chartres, Walpole, or a king,
If once we let you have your swing?
Such wicked insolence appears
Offensive to all pious cars.
To flatter women by a metaphor!
What profit could you hope to get of her?
And, for her sake, turn base detractor
Against your greatest benefactor.
But we shall keep revenge in store
If ever you provoke us more :
For, since we know you walk a-foot,
We'll soundly drench your frieze surtout;
Or may we never thunder throw,
Nor souse to death a birthday beau.
AN EPISTLE TO TWO FRIENDS.a
TO DR. HELSHAM.
Nov. 23, at night, 1731.
SIR,-When I left you, I found myself of the grape's
I'm so full of pity I never abuse sick; [juice sick;
And the patientest patient ever you knew sick;
Both when I am purge-sick, and when I am spew-
sick.
I pitied my cat, whom I knew by her mew sick :
She mended at first, but now she's anew sick.
Captain Butler made some in the church black and
[pew-sick.
blue sick.
[sick,
Dean Cross, had he preach'd, would have made us all
Are not you, in a crowd when you sweat and you
stew, sick?
Lady Santry got out of the churche when she grew
And as fast as she could to the deanery flew sick.
Miss Morice was (I can you assure 'tis true) sick :
For, who would not be in that numerous crew sick?
Such music would make a fanatic or Jew sick,
Yet, ladies are seldom at ombre or loo sick. [sick.
Nor is old Nanny Shales, whenc'er she does brew,
My footman came home from the church of a bruise
sick,
[sick
And look'd like a rake, who was made in the stews
But you learned doctors can make whom you choose
sick:
And poor I myself was, when I withdrew, sick :
For the smell of them made me like garlic and rue
sick,
[clew, sick.
And I got through the crowd, though not led by a
Yet hoped to find many (for that was your cue) sick;
This medley, for it cannot be called a poem, is given as a
specimen of those bagatelles for which the dean has been too
severely censured.
Richard Helsham, M.D., Professor of Physic and Natural
Philosophy in the University of Dublin.
• St. Patrick's cathedral, where the music on St. Cecilia's
day was performed.
But there was not a dozen (to give them their due)
sick,
And those, to be sure, stuck together like glue sick.
So are ladies in crowds, when they squeeze and they
screw, sick;
[sick;
You may find they are all, by their yellow pale hue,
So am I, when tobacco, like Robin, I chew, sick.
TO DR. SHERIDAN.
Ir I write any more, it will make my poor Muse
sick,
This night I came home with a very cold dew sick,
And I wish I may soon be not of an ague sick;
But I hope I shall ne'er be like you, of a shrew sick,
Who often has made me, by looking askew, sick.
DR. HELSHAM'S ANSWER.
THE doctor's first rhyme would make any Jew sick :
I know it has made a fine lady in blue sick,
For which she is gone in a coach to Killbrew sick,
Like a hen I once had, from a fox when she flew
sick:
Last Monday a lady at St. Patrick's did spew sick,
And made all the rest of the folks in the pew sick :
The surgeon who bled her his lancet out drew sick,
And stopp'd the distemper, as being but new sick.
The yacht, the last storm, had all her whole crew
sick;
[and you sick:
Had we two been there, it would have made me
A lady that long'd is by eating of glue sick;
Did you ever know one in a very good Q sick?
I'm told that my wife is by winding a clew sick;
The doctors have made her by rhyme and by rue
sick.
[threw sick,
There's a gamester in town, for a throw that he
And yet the old trade of his dice he'll pursue sick;
I've known an old miser for paying his due sick;
At present I'm grown by a pinch of my shoe sick,
And what would you have me with verses to do sick?
Send rhymes, and I'll send you some others in lieu
Of rhymes I have plenty,
[sick.
And therefore send twenty.
Answered the same day when sent, Nov. 23.
I desire you will carry both these to the doctor,
together with his own; and let him know we are
not persons to be insulted.
"Can you match with me,
Who send thirty-three?
You must get fourteen more,
To make up thirty-four:
But, if me you can conquer,
I'll own you a strong cur."a
This morning I'm growing, by smelling of yew,
sick;
My brother's come over with gold from Peru sick ;
Last night I came home in a storm that then blew
This moment my dog at a cat I halloo sick;
[sick;
I hear from good hands that my poor cousin Hugh's
By quaffing a bottle and pulling a screw sick: [sick:
And now there's no more I can write (you'll excuse)
You see that I scorn to mention word music. [sick;
I'll do my best
To send the rest;
Without a jest,
I'll stand the test.
[sick;
These lines that I send you, I hope you'll peruse
I'll make you with writing a little more news sick;
Last night I came home with drinking of booze sick;
My carpenter swears that he'll hack and he'll hew
An officer's lady, I'm told, is tattoo sick; [sick.
* The lines" thus marked" were written by Dr. Swift at
the bottom of Dr. Helsham's twenty lines.
SWIFT AND SHERIDAN.
775
I'm afraid that the line thirty-four you will view
Lord! I could write a dozen more; [sick.
You see I've mounted thirty-four.
A. TRUE AND FAITHFUL INVENTORY
OF THE GOODS BELONGING TO DR. SWIFT,
VICAR OF LARACOR;
Upon lending his house to the bishop of Meath, unti! his own
was built.
An oaken broken elbow-chair;
A caudle-cup without an ear;
A batter'd, shatter'd ash bedstead;
A box of deal, without a lid;
A pair of tongs, but out of joint;
A back-sword poker, without point;
A pot that's crack'd across, around,
With an old knotted garter bound;
An iron lock, without a key;
A wig, with hanging grown quite grey;
A curtain, worn to half a stripe;
A pair of bellows, without pipe;
A dish, which might good meat afford once;
An Ovid, and an old Concordance;
A bottle-bottom, wooden platter,
One is for meal, and one for water;
There likewise is a copper skillet,
Which runs as fast out as you fill it;
A candlestick, snuff-dish, and save-all:
And thus his household goods you have all.
These, to your lordship, as a friend,
Till you have built, I freely lend:
They'll serve your lordship for a shift;
Why not as well as doctor Swift?
AN INVITATION TO DINNER,
FROM DR. SHERIDAN TO DR. SWIFT. 1727.
I'VE sent to the ladies a this morning to warn 'em,
To order their chaise, and repair to Rathfarnam ;b
Where you shall be welcome to dine, if your deanship
Can take up with me, and my friend Stella's leanship.c
I've got you some soles, and a fresh bleeding bret,
That's just disengaged from the toils of a net :
An excellent loin of fat veal to be roasted,
With lemons, and butter, and sippets well toasted :
Some larks that descended, mistaking the skies,
Which Stella brought down by the light of her eyes;
And there, like Narcissus, they gazed till they died,
And now they're to lie in some crumbs that are fried.
My wine will inspire you with joy and delight,
'Tis mellow, and old, and sparkling, and bright;
An emblem of one that you love, I suppose,
Who gathers more lovers the older she grows.d
Let me be your Gay, and let Stella be Pope,
We'll wean you from sighing for England I hope;
When we are together there's nothing that is dull,
There's nothing like Durfey, or Smedley, or Tisdall.
We've sworn to make out an agreeable feast,
Our dinner, our wine, and our wit to your taste.
Your answer in half an hour, though you are at
prayers; you have a pencil in your pocket.
PEG RADCLIFFE THE HOSTESS'S
INVITATION.
THOUGH the name of this place may make you to frown,
Your deanship is welcome to Glassnevin town;
"A glass and no wine to a man of your taste,
Alas! is enough, sir, to break it in haste;
a Mrs. Johnson (Stella) and her friend Mrs. Dingley.
b A village near Dublin, where Dr. Sheridan had a country-
house.
Stella was at this time in a very declining state of health.
She died the January following.
He means Stella.
A pun on Glassnevin-Glass--ne, no-and vin, wmne.
Be that as it will, your presence can't fail
To yield great delight in drinking our ale;
Would you but vouchsafe a mug to partake,
And as we can brew, believe we can bake.
The life and the pleasure we now from you hope,
The famed Violante can't show on the rope;
Your genius and talents outdo even Pope.
Then while, sir, you live at Glassnevin, and find
The benefit wish'd you, by friends who are kind
One night in the week, sir, your favour bestow,
To drink with Delany and others you know:
They constantly meet at Peg Radcliffe's together,
Talk over the news of the town and the weather;
Reflects on mishaps in church and in state,
Digest many things as well as good meat;
And club each alike that no one may treat.
This if you will grant without coach or chair,
You may, in a trice, cross the way and be there ;
For Peg is your neighbour, as well as Delany,
An housewifely woman full pleasing to any.
VERSES BY SHERIDAN.
;
"WHEN he was disengaged, the dean used to call in at the doc
tor's about the hour of dining, and their custom was to sit in a
small back parlour tête-à-tête, and have slices sent them, upon
plates from the common room, of whatever was for the family
dinner. The furniture of this room was not in the best repair,
being often frequented by the boarders, of which the house was
seldom without twenty; but was preferred by the dean as be
ing more snug than the state parlour, which was used only
when there was company. The subject of the poem is an ac-
count of one of these casual visits.”—Sheridan's Life of Swift.
"WHEN to my house you come, dear dean,
Your humble friend to entertain,
Through dirt and mire along the street,
You find no scraper for your feet;
At which you stamp and storm and swell,
Which serves to clean your feet as well.
By steps ascending to the hall,
All torn to rags by boys and ball,
With scatter'd fragments on the floor;
A sad, uneasy parlour-door,
Besmear'd with chalk, and carved with knives,
(A plague upon all careless wives,)
Are the next sights you must expect,
But do not think they're my neglect.
Ah, that these evils were the worst!
The parlour still is further cursed.
To enter there if you advance,
If in you get, it is by chance.
How oft by turns have you and I
Said thus "Let me-no-let me try-
This turn will open it, I'll engage :"-
You push me from it in a rage.
Turning, twisting, forcing, fumbling,
Stamping, staring, fuming, grumbling,
At length it opens-in we go-
How glad are we to find it so!
Conquests through pains and dangers please
Much more than those attain'd with ease.
Are you disposed to take a seat;
The instant that it feels your weight
Out goes its legs and down you come
Upon your reverend deanship's bum.
Betwixt two stools, 'tis often said,
The sitter on the ground is laid;
What praise then to my chairs is due,
Where one performs the feat of two!
Now to the fire, if such there be,
At present nought but smoke we see.
"Come, stir it up!" "Ho, Mr. Joker,
How can I stir it without a poker?"
"The bellows take, their batter'd nose
Will serve for poker I suppose."
776
BIRTHDAY POEMS TO DR. SWIFT.
Now you begin to rake-alack
The grate has tumbled from its back-
The coals all on the hearth are laid-
"Stay, sir-I'll run and call the maid;
She'll make the fire again complete-
She knows the humour of the grate."
"Pox take your maid and you together-
This is cold comfort in cold weather.'
Now all is right again-the blaze
Suddenly raised as soon decays.
Once more apply the bellows—“So—
These bellows were not made to blow-
Their leathern lungs are in decay,
They can't even puff the smoke away."
"And is your reverence vex'd at that?
Get up, in God's name, take your hat;
Hang them, say I, that have no shift;
Come, blow the fire, good doctor Swift.
If trifles such as these can teaze you,
Plague take those fools that strive to please you.
Therefore no longer be a quarrel'r
Either with me, sir, or my parlour.
If
you can relish aught of mine,
A bit of meat, a glass of wine,
You're welcome to it, and you shall fare
As well as dining with the mayor."
"You saucy scab-you tell me so!
Why, booby-face, I'd have you know
I'd rather see your things in order
Than dine in state with the recorder.
For water I must keep a clutter,
Or chide your wife for stinking butter;
Or getting such a deal of meat
As if you'd half the town to eat.
That wife of yours, the devil's in her,
I've told her of this way of dinner
Five hundred times, but all in vain-
Here comes a rump of beef again :
O that that wife of yours would burst-
Get out, and serve the boarders first.
Pox take 'em all for me-I fret
So much, I shall not eat my meat-
You know I'd rather have a slice."
“I know, dear sir, you are not nice
You'll have your dinner in a minute:
Here comes the plate and slices in it;
Therefore no more, but take your place-
Do you fall to, and I'll say grace."
TO THE REV. DR. SWIFT, DEAN OF
ST. PATRICK'S.
A BIRTHDAY POEM. NOV. 30, 1736.
To you, my true and faithful friend,
These tributary lines I send,
Which every year, thou best of deans,
I'll pay as long as life remains;
But did you know one half the pain,
What work, what racking of the brain,
It costs me for a single clause,
How long I'm forced to think and pause;
How long I dwell upon a proem,
To introduce your birthday poem,
How many blotted lines; I know it,
You'd have compassion for the poet.
Now, to describe the way I think,
I take in hand my pen and ink;
I rub my forehead, scratch my head,
Revolving all the rhymes I read.
Each complimental thought sublime,
Reduced by favourite Pope to rhyme.
And those by you to Oxford writ,
With true simplicity and wit.
Yet after all I cannot find
One panegyric to my mind.
Now I begin to fret and blot,
Something I schemed, but quite forgot;
My fancy turns a thousand ways,
Through all the several forms of praise,
What eulogy may best become
The greatest dean in Christendom.
At last I've hit upon a thought—
Sure this will do 'tis good for nought--
This line I peevishly erase,
And choose another in its place;
Again I try, again commence,
But cannot well express the sense;
The line's too short to hold my meaning:
I'm cramp'd, and cannot bring the dean in.
O for a rhyme to glorious birth!
I've hit upon it-the rhyme is earth—
But how to bring it in, or fit it,
I know not, so I'm forced to quit it.
Again I try-I'll sing the man-
Ay do, says Phoebus, if you can;
I wish with all my heart you would not;
Were Horace now alive he could not:
And will you venture to pursue
What none alive or dead could do?
Pray see, did ever Pope or Gay
Presume to write on his birthday;
Though both were fav'rite bards of mine,
The task they wisely both decline.
With grief I felt his admonition,
And much lamented my condition ;
Because I could not be content
Without some grateful compliment,
If not the poet, sure the friend
Must something on your birthday send.
I scratch'd, and rubb'd my head once more;
"Let ev'ry patriot him adore."
Alack-a-day, there's nothing in't—
Such stuff will never do in print.
Pray, reader, ponder well the sequel;
I hope this epigram will take well.
In others, life is deem'd a vapour,
In Swift it is a lasting taper,
Whose blaze continually refines,
The more it burns the more it shines.
I read this epigram again,
'Tis much too flat to fit the dean.
Then down I lay some scheme to dream on,
Assisted by some friendly demon.
I slept, and dream'd that I should meet
A birthday poem in the street;
So, after all my care and rout,
You see, dear dean, my dream is out.
TO DR. SWIFT ON HIS BIRTHDAY."
WHILE I the godlike men of old,
In admiration rapt, behold;
Revered antiquity explore,
And turn the long-lived volumes o'er,
Where Cato, Plutarch, Flaccus, shine,
In every excellence divine:
I grieve that our degenerate days
Produce no mighty soul like these;
Patriot, philosopher, and bard,
Are names unknown, and seldom heard.
Spare your reflection," Phoebus cries;
"Tis as ungrateful as unwise:
Can you complain, this sacred day,
That virtues or that arts decay?
Behold, in Swift revived appears
The virtues of unnumber'd years
" Written by Mrs. Pilkington at the time when she wished to
be introduced to the dean.
EPIGRAMS-ON THE DEAN'S BIRTHDAY-&c.
777
Behold in him, with new delight,
The patriot, bard, and sage unite;
And know, Iërne in that name
Shall rival Greece and Rome in fame."
ON DR. SWIFT. 1733.
No pedant Bentley, proud, uncouth,
Nor sweetening dedicator smooth,
In one attempt has ever dared
To sap, or storm, this mighty bard,
Nor Envy does, nor Ignorance,
Make on his works the least advance.
For this, behold! still flies afar
Where'er his genius does appear;
Nor has that aught to do above,
So meddles not with Swift and Jove.
A faithful, universal fame
In glory spreads abroad his name ;
Pronounces Swift, with loudest breath,
Immortal grown before his death.
EPIGRAMS,
OCCASIONED BY DR. SWIFT'S INTEnded hospital for
IDIOTS AND LUNATICS.
I.
THE dean must die-our idiots to maintain!
Perish, ye idiots! and long live the dean!
II.
O Genius of Hibernia's state,
Sublimely good, severely great,
How doth this latest act excel
All you have done or wrote so well!
Satire may be the child of spite,
And fame might bid the drapier write :
But to relieve, and to endow,
Creatures that know not whence or how,
Argues a soul both good and wise,
Resembling Him who rules the skies,
He to the thoughtful mind displays
Immortal skill ten thousand ways;
And, to complete his glorious task,
Gives what we have not sense to ask!
III.
Lo! Swift to idiots bequeaths his store :
Be wise, ye rich!-consider thus the poor!
Great wits to madness nearly are allied,
This makes the dean for kindred thus provide !
ON THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S
BIRTHDAY.
BEING NOV. 30, st. andrew's day.
BETWEEN the hours of twelve and one,
When half the world to rest were gone,
Entranced in softest sleep I lay,
Forgetful of an anxious day;
From every care and labour free,
My soul as calm as it could be.
The queen of dreams, well pleased to find
An undisturb'd and vacant mind,
With magic pencil traced my brain,
And there she drew St. Patrick's dean :
I straight beheld on either hand
Two saints, like guardian angels, stand,
And either claim'd him for their son,
And thus the high dispute begun :
St. Andrew, first, with reason strong,
Maintain'd to him he did belong.
"Swift is my own, by right divine,
All born upon this day are mine."
St. Patrick said, "I own this true,
So far he does belong to you:
But in my church he's born again,
My son adopted, and my dean.
When first the Christian truth I spread,
The poor within this isle I fed,
And darkest errors banish'd hence,
Made knowledge in their place commence :
Nay more, at my divine command,
All noxious creatures fled the land.
I made both peace and plenty smile,
Hibernia was my favourite isle;
Now his for he succeeds to me,
Two angels cannot more agree.
His joy is, to relieve the poor;
Behold them weekly at his door!
His knowledge too, in brightest rays,
He like the sun to all conveys,
Shows wisdom in a single page,
And in one hour instructs an age.
When ruin lately stood around
Th' enclosures of my sacred ground,
He gloriously did interpose,
And saved it from invading foes;
For this I claim immortal Swift,
As my own son, and Heaven's best gift."
The Caledonian saint, enraged,
Now closer in dispute engaged.
Essays to prove, by transmigration,
The dean is of the Scottish nation;
And, to confirm the truth, he chose
The loyal soul of great Montrose;
"Montrose and he are both the same,
They only differ in the name;
Both heroes in a righteous cause,
Assert their liberties and laws
He's now the same Montrose was then,
But that the sword is turn'd a pen,
A pen of so great power, each word
Defends beyond the hero's sword."
Now words grew high-we can't suppose
Immortals ever come to blows,
But lest unruly passion should
Degrade them into flesh and blood,
An angel quick from heaven descends,
And he at once the contest ends :
"Ye reverend pair, from discord cease,
Ye both mistake the present case;
One kingdom cannot have pretence
To so much virtue! so much sense!
Search heaven's record; and there you'll find,
That he was born for all mankind."
AN EPISTLE TO ROBERT NUGENT, Esq.a
WITH A PICTURE OF DR. SWIFT.
DUNKIN, D.D.
BY WILLIAM
To gratify thy long desire,
(So love and piety require,)
From Bindon's colours you may trace
The patriot's venerable face.
The last, O Nugent! which his art
Shall ever to the world impart;
For know, the prime of mortal men,
That matchless monarch of the pen,
(Whose labours, like the genial sun,
Shall through revolving ages run,
Yet never, like the sun, decline,
But in their full meridian shine,)
That ever honour'd, envied sage,
So long the wonder of the age,
Who charm'd us with his golden strain,
Is not the shadow of the dean:
He only breathes Boeotian air-
"O! what a falling off was there!"
Created baron Nugent and viscount Clare, Dec. 20, 1766
b A celebrated painter and architect.
778
EPISTLE TO R. NUGENT, ESQ.-ON THE DRAPIER-&c.
Hibernia's Helicon is dry,
Invention, wit, and humour die;
And what remains against the storm
Of malice but an empty form?
The nodding ruins of a pile,
That stood the bulwark of this isle?
In which the sisterhood was fix'd
Of candid honour, truth unmix'd,
Imperial reason, thought profound,
And charity, diffusing round
In cheerful rivulets to flow
Of Fortune to the sons of woe?
Such one, my Nugent, was thy Swift,
Endued with each exalted gift,
But lo! the pure ethereal flame
Is darken'd by a misty steam :
The balm exhausted breathes no smell,
The rose is wither'd ere it fell.
That godlike supplement of law,
Which held the wicked world in awe,
And could the tide of faction stem,
Is but a shell without the gem.
Ye sons of genius, who would aim
To build an everlasting fame,
And in the field of letter'd arts,
Display the trophies of your parts,
To yonder mansion turn aside,
And mortify your growing pride.
Behold the brightest of the race,
And Nature's honour, in disgrace :
With humble resignation own,
That all your talents are a loan,
By Providence advanced for use,
Which you should study to produce:
Reflect, the mental stock, alas!
However current now it pass,
May haply be recall'd from you
Before the grave demands his due.
Then, while your morning star proceeds,
Direct your course to worthy deeds,
In fuller day discharge your debts;
For, when your sun of reason sets,
The night succeeds; and all your schemes
Of glory vanish with your dreams.
Ah! where is now the supple train,
That danced attendance on the dean?
Say, where are those facetious folks
Who shook with laughter at his jokes,
And with attentive rapture hung
On wisdom dropping from his tongue ;
Who look'd with high disdainful pride
On all the busy world beside,
And rated his productions more
Than treasures of Peruvian ore?
Good christians! they with bended knees
Ingulf'd the wine, but loathe the lees,
Averting, (so the text commands,)
With ardent eyes and upcast hands,
The cup of sorrow from their lips,
And fly, like rats, from sinking ships.
While some, who by his friendship rose
To wealth, in concert with his foes
Run counter to their former track,
Like old Acteon's horrid pack
Of yelling mongrels, in requitals
To riot on their master's vitals ;
And, where they cannot blast his laurels,
Attempt to stigmatize his morals;
Through scandal's magnifying glass
His foibles view, but virtues pass,
And on the ruins of his fame
Erect an ignominious name.
So vermin foul, of vile extraction,
The spawn of dirt and putrefaction,
The sounder members traverse o'er,
But fix and fatten on a sore.
Hence! peace, ye wretches, who revile
His wit, his humour, and his style;
Since all the monsters which he drew
Were only meant to copy you;
And, if the colours be not fainter,
Arraign yourselves, and not the painter.
But, O! that He, who gave him breath,
Dread Arbiter of life and death;
That He, the moving soul of all,
The sleeping spirit would recall,
And crown him with triumphant meeds,
For all his past heroic deeds,
In mansions of unbroken rest,
The bright republic of the bless'd!
Irradiate his benighted mind
With living light of light refined;
And there the blank of thought employ
With objects of immortal joy!
Yet, while he drags the sad remains
Of life, slow-creeping through his veins,
Above the views of private ends,
The tributary Muse attends,
To prop his feeble steps, or shed
The pious tear around his bed.
So pilgrims, with devout complaints,
Frequent the graves of martyr'd saints,
Inscribe their worth in artless lines,
And, in their stead, embrace their shrines.
ON THE DRAPIER.
BY DR. DUNKIN.
UNDONE by fools at home, abroad by knaves,
The isle of saints became the land of slaves,
Trembling beneath her proud oppressor's hand;
But, when thy reason thunder'd through the land,
Then all the public spirit breathed in thee,
And all, except the sons of guilt, were free.
Blest isle, blest patriot, ever glorious strife!
You gave her freedom, as she gave you life!
Thus Cato fought, whom Brutus copied well,
And with those rights for which you stand, he fell.
EPITAPH PROPOSED FOR DR. SWIFT.
1745.
HIC JACET
DEMOCRITVS ILLE NEOTERICVS, RABELAESIVS NOSTER,
IONATHAN SWIFT, S. T. P. HVIVS CATHEDRALIS NUPER DECANVS;
MOMI, MVSARUM, MINERVAE, ALVMNVS PERQUAM DILECTVS ;
INSVLSIS, HYPOCHITIS, THEOMACHIS, IVXTA EXOsvs;
QVOS TRIBVTIM SVMMO CVM LEPORE
DERISIT, DENVDAVIT, DEBELLAVIT,
TRIAE INFELICIS PATRONVS IMPIGER, ET PROPVGNATOR
PRIMORES ARRIPVIT, POPVLVMQVE INTERRITVS,
VNI SCILICET AEQVVS VIRTVTİ.
HANC FAVILLAM
SI QUIS ADES, NEC PENITVS EXCORS VIDETVR
DEBITA SPARGES LACRYMA,
[born!
EPIGRAM ON TWO GREAT MEN. 1745.
Two geniuses one age and nation grace!
Pride of our isles, and boast of human race!
Great sage! great bard! supreme in knowledge
The world to mend, enlighten, and adorn.
Truth on Cimmerian darkness pours the day!
Wit drives in smiles the gloom of minds away!
Ye kindred suns on high, ye glorious spheres,
Whom have ye seen, in twice three thousand years,
Whom have ye seen, like these, of mortal birth;
Though Archimede and Horace bless'd the earth?
Barbarians, from th' Equator to the Poles,
Hark! reason calls! wisdom awakes your souls!
Ye regions, ignorant of Walpole's name; [fame;
Ye climes, where kings shall ne'er extend their
TO THE MEMORY OF SWIFT-ON THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS-&c
Where men, miscall'd, God's image have defaced,
Their form belied, and human shape disgraced!
Ye two-legg'd wolves! slaves! Superstition's sons!
Lords! soldiers! holy Vandals! modern Huns!
Boors, mufties, monks; in Russia, Turkey, Spain !
Who does not know SIR ISAAC, and THE Dean?
TO THE MEMORY OF DOCTOR SWIFT.
WHEN wasteful death has closed the poet's eyes,
And low in earth his mortal essence lies;
When the bright flame, that once his breast inspired,
Has to its first, its noblest seat retired;
All worthy minds, whom love of merit sways,
Should shade from slander his respected bays;
And bid that fame, his useful labours won,
Pure and untainted through all ages run.
Envy's a fiend all excellence pursues,
But mostly poets favour'd by the Muse;
Who wins the laurel, sacred verse bestows,
Makes all, who fail in like attempts, his foes;
No puny wit of malice can complain,
The thorn is theirs who most applauses gain.
Whatever gifts or graces Heaven design'd
To raise man's genius, or enrich his mind,
Where Swift's to boast-alike his merits claim
The statesman's knowledge and the poet's flame;
The patriot's honour, zealous to defend
His country's rights-and faithful to the end;
The sound divine, whose charities display'd
He more by virtue than by forms was sway'd;
Temperate at board, and frugal of his store,
Which he but spared to make his bounties more;
The generous friend, whose heart alike caress'd
The friend triumphant or the friend distress'd;
Who could unpain'd another's merit spy,
Nor view a rival's fame with jaundiced eye;
Humane to all, his love was unconfined,
And in its scope embraced all human kind;
Sharp, not malicious, was his charming wit,
And less to anger than reform he writ;
Whatever rancour his productions show'd,
From scorn of vice and folly only flow'd;
He thought that fools were an invidious race,
And held no measures with the vain or base.
Virtue so clear, who labours to destroy,
Shall find the charge can but himself annoy:
The slanderous theft to his own breast recoils
Who seeks renown from injured merit's spoils ;
All hearts unite, and Heaven with man conspires
To guard those virtues she herself admires.
O sacred bard!—once ours!—but now no more,
Whose loss, for ever, Ireland must deplore,
No earthly laurels needs thy happy brow,
Above the poet's are thy honours now:
Above the patriot's (though a greater name
No temporal monarch for his crown can claim).
From noble breasts if envy might ensue,
Thy death is all the brave can envy you.
You died, when merit (to its fate resign'd)
Saw scarce one friend to genius left behind,
When shining parts did jealous hatred breed,
And 'twas a crime in science to succeed,
When ignorance spread her hateful mist around,
And dunces only an acceptance found.
What could such scenes in noble minds beget,
But life with pain, and talents with regret?
Add that thy spirit from the world retired,
Ere hidden foes its further grief conspired;
No treacherous friend did stories yet contrive,
To blast the Muse he flatter'd when alive,
Or sordid printer (by his influence led)
Abused the fame that first bestow'd him bread
Slanders so mean, had he whose nicer ear
Abhorr'd all scandal but survived to hear,
The fraudful tale had stronger scorn supplied.
And he (at length) with more disdain had died.
But since detraction is the portion here
Of all who virtuous durst, or great, appear,
And the free soul no true existence gains,
While earthly particles its flight restrains,
The greatest favour grimful Death can show.
Is with swift dart to expedite the blow.
So thought the dean, who, anxious for his fate,
Sigh'd for release, and deem'd the blessing late.
And sure if virtuous souls (life's travail past)
Enjoy (as churchmen teach) repose at last,
There's cause to think a mind so firmly good,
Who vice so long, and lawless power, withstood,
Has reach'd the limits of that peaceful shore
Where knaves molest and tyrants awe no more;
These blissful seats the pious but attain,
Where incorrupt, immortal spirits reign.
There his own Parnell strikes the living lyre,
And Pope, harmonious, joins the tuneful choir;
His Stella too (no more to forms confined,
For heavenly beings all are of a kind)
Unites with his the treasures of her mind,
With warmer friendships bids their bosoms glow,
Nor dreads the rage of vulgar tongues below.
Such pleasing hope the tranquil breast enjoys,
Whose inward peace no conscious crime annoys;
While guilty minds irresolute appear,
And doubt a state their vices needs must fear,
R- -T B
-N.
779
Dublin, Nov. 4, 1755.
VERSES ON THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS
BY MR. JAMES STERLING, OF THE COUNTY OF MEATII
WHILE the dean, with more wit than man ever
wanted,
Or than Heaven to any man else ever granted,
Endeavours to prove how the ancients in knowledge
Have excell❜d our adepts of each modern college-
How by heroes of old our chiefs are surpass'd
In each useful science, true learning, and taste;-
While thus he behaves with more courage than
manners,
And fights for the foe, deserting our banners;
While Bentley and Wotton, our champions, he foils,
And wants neither Temple's assistance nor Boyle's;
In spite of his learning, fine reasons, and style,
-Would you think it ?-he favours our cause all
the while:
We raise by his conquest our glory the higher,
And from our defeat to a triumph aspire;
Our great brother-modern, the boast of our days,
Unconscious, has gain'd for our party the bays:
St. James's old authors, so famed on each shelf,
Are vanquish'd by what he has written himself.
A SCHOOLBOY'S THEME.
From Mr. Pulteney (afterwards earl of Bath) to Swift :-
"You must give me leave to add to my letter a copy of verses
at the end of a declamation made by a boy at Westminster
school on this theme,-Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat ?"
DULCE, Decane, decus, flos optime gentis Hiberum
Nomine quique audis, ingenioque celer:
Dum lepido indulges risu, et mutaris in horas,
Quò nova vis animi, materiesque rapit?
Nunc gravis astrologus, cœlo dominaris et astris,
Filaque pro libitu Partrigiana secas.
Nunc populo speciosa hospes miracula promis,
Gentesque æquoreas, aëriasque creas.
Seu plausum captat queruli persona Draperi,
Seu levis a vacuo tabula sumpta cado.
Mores egregius mira exprimis arte magister,
Et vitam atque homines pagina quæque sapit ;
Socratica minor est vis et sapientia chartæ,
Nec tantum potuit grande Platonis opus.
780
EPIGRAMS, &c.
ON DR. SWIFT'S LEAVING HIS ESTATE
TO IDIOTS.
SWIFT, wondrous genius, bright intelligence,
Pities the orphan's, idiot's want of sense;
And rich in supernumerary pelf,
Adopts posterity unlike himself.
To one great individual wit's confined!
Such eunuchs never propagate their kind.
Thus nature's prodigies bestow the gifts
Of fortune-their descendants are no Swifts.
When did prime statesman, for a sceptre fit
His ministerial successor beget?
No age, no state, no world, can hope to see
Two SWIFTS or WALPOLES in one family.
ON SEVERAL PETTY PIECES
LATELY PUBLISHED AGAINST DEAN SWIFT, NOW DEAF
AND INFIRM.
THY mortal part, ingenious Swift! must die,
Thy fame shall reach beyond mortality!
How puny whirlings joy at thy decline,
Thou darling offspring of the tuneful nine!
The noble lion thus, as vigour passes,
The fable tells us, is abused by asses.
ON FAULKNER'S EDITION OF SWIFT.
[Ornamented with an engraving of the dean, by Vertue.]
In a little dark room at the back of his shop,
Where poets and scribes have dined on a chop,
Poor Faulkner sate musing alone thus of late,
"Two volumes are done-it is time for the plate;
Yes, time to be sure ;—but on whom shall I call
To express the great Swift in a compass so small?
Faith, Vertue shall do it, I'm pleased at the thought,
Be the cost what it will-the copper is bought."
Apollo o'erheard (who as some people guess,
Had a hand in the work, and corrected the press);
And pleased, he replied, "Honest George, you are
right,
The thought was my own, howsoe'er you came by't.
For though both the wit and the style is my gift,
'Tis VERTUE alone can design us a SwIFT.'
EPIGRAM
ON LORD ORRERY'S REMARKS ON SWIFT'S LIFE AND
WRITINGS.
A SORE disease this scribbling itch is!
His lordship, in his Pliny seen,
Turns madam Pilkington in breeches,
And now attacks our patriot dean.
What! libel his friend when laid in ground:
Nay, good sir, you may spare your hints,
His parallel at last is found,
For what he writes George Faulkner prints.
Had Swift provoked to this behaviour,
Yet after death resentment cools,
Sure his last act bespoke his favour,
He built an hospital-for fools.
TO DOCTOR DELANY,
ON HIS BOOK ENTITLED "OBSERVATIONS ON LORD
ORRERY'S REMARKS."
DELANY, to escape your friend the dean,
And prove all false that Orrery had writ,
You kindly own his Gulliver profane,
Yet make his puns and riddles sterling wit.
But if for wrongs to Swift you would atone,
And please the world, one way you may succeed,
Collect Boyle's writings and your own,
And serve them as you served THE DEED.
EPIGRAM
On Faulkner's displaying in his shop the dean's bust in mar-
ble, while he was publishing lord Orrery's "Remarks."
FAULKNER! for once you have some judgment shown,
By representing Swift transform'd to stone;
For could he thy ingratitude have known,
Astonishment itself the work had done!
AN INSCRIPTION,
Intended for a compartment in Dr. Swift's monument, de-
signed by Cunningham, on College-green, Dublin.
SAY, to the drapier's vast unbounded fame,
What added honours can the sculptor give?
None. 'Tis a sanction from the drapier's name
Must bid the sculptor and his marble live.
June 4, 1765.
AN EPIGRAM,
OCCASIONED BY THE ABOVE INSCRIPTION.
WHICH gave the drapier birth two realms contend;
And each asserts her poet, patriot, friend:
Her mitre jealous Britain may deny;
That loss Iërne's laurel shall supply:
Through life's low vale, she, grateful, gave him bread;
Her vocal stones shall vindicate him dead.
1766.
W. B. J. N.
MISCELLANIES IN VERSE,
BY MR. POPE, DR. ARBUTHNOT,
MR. GAY, &c.
COLLECTED BY DR. SWIFT AND MR. POPE, 1727.
IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS.
BY MR. POPE, IN HIS YOUTH.
I. CHAUCER.
A TALE, LATELY FOUND IN AN OLD MANUSCRIPT.
WOMEN, though nat sans leacherie,
Ne swinken but with secrecie:
This in our tale is plain y-fond,
Of clerk that wonneth in Irelond;
Which to the fennes hath him betake
To filch the gray ducke fro the lake.
Right then ther passen by the way
His aunt, and eke her daughters tway:
Ducke in his trowzes hath he hent,
Not to be spied of ladies gent.
"But ho! our nephew," crieth one;
"Ho!" quoth another, "couzen John!"
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out.—
This sely clerk full low doth lout.
They asken that and talken this,
"Lo here is coz, and here is miss."
But, as he gloz'd with speeches soote,
The ducks sore tickleth his erse root:
Fore-piece and buttons all to-brest,
Forth thrust a white neck and red crest.
Te-he," cried ladies; clerke nought spake ;
Miss star'd and grey ducke crieth "quaake."
"O moder, moder," quoth the daughter,
"Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter?
Bette is to pyne on coals and chalke,
Then trust on mon, whose yerde can talke."
THE ALLEY-ARTEMISIA-PHRYNE.
781
II. SPENSER.
THE ALLEY.
I.
IN ev'ry town where Thamis rolls his tide,
A narrow pass there is, with houses low;
Where ever and anon the stream is eyed,
And many a boat soft sliding to and fro :
There oft are heard the notes of infant woe,
The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall;
How can ye, mothers, vex your children so?
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
And, as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
II.
And on the broken pavement here and there
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs, are feeding by:
And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry:
At every door are sun-burnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry;
Now singing shrill, and scolding oft between ;
Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighbour-
hood, I ween.
III.
The snappish cur (the passengers' annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp'ring girl and hoarser screaming boy
Join to the yelping treble shrilling cries;
The scolding quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base
are drown'd.
IV.
Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who, in her early days,
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
Cod, whiting, oyster, mack'rel, sprat, or plaice :
There learn'd she speech from tongues that never
Slander beside her, like a magpie chatters. [cease.
With Envy (spitting cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs'd cur, Malice before her clatters,
And, vexing every wight, tears clothes and all to
tatters.
V.
Her dugs were mark'd by ev'ry collier's hand,
Her mouth was black as bulldog's at the stall :
She scratched, bit, and spared ne lace ne band :
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all:
Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would call.
Whene'er she passed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall,
And by his hand obscene the porter took,
Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look.
VI.
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town;
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch:
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown;
And Twick’nam such, which fairer scenes enrich,
Grots, statues, urns, and Jo- -n's dog and bitch;
Ne village is without on either side,
All up the silver Thames, or all adown;
Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd
Vales, spires, meand'ring streams, and Windsor's
tow'ry pride.
III. EARL OF DORSET.
ARTEMISIA.
THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits,
Of councils, classics, fathers, wits!
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke;
Yet in some things, methinks, she fails;
'Twere well, if she would pare her nails,
And wear a cleaner smock.
Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride
Such nastiness, and so much pride,
Are oddly join'd by fate:
On her large squab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpse upon a bed,
That lies and stinks in state.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face;
All white and black beside :
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
Her voice theatrically loud,
And masculine her stride.
So have I seen, in black and white,
A prating thing, a magpie hight,
Majestically stalk :
A stately, worthless animal,
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,
All flutter, pride, and talk.a
PHRYNE.
PHRYNE had talents for mankind;
Open she was, and unconfined,
Like some free port of trade!
Merchants unloaded here their freight,
And agents from each foreign state
Here first their entry made.
Her learning and good breeding such,
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch,
Spaniards or French came to her,
To all obliging she'd appear:
'Twas Si signior, 'twas Yaw, mynheer,
'Twas S'il vous plait, monsieur.
Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
Still changing names, religions, climes,
At length she turns a bride :
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
She shines the first of batter'd jades,
And flutters in her pride.
So have I known those insects fair,
Which curious Germans hold so rare,
Still vary shapes and dies;
Still gain new titles with new forms
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,
Then painted butterflies.
IV. SWIFT.
THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.
PARSON, these things in thy possessing
Are better than the bishop's blessing:
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there's need;
October store, and best Virginia,
Tithe pig, and mortuary guinea;
Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
For which thy patron's weekly thank’d;
A large Concordance, bound long since ;
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince;
A chronicle of ancient standing;
A chrysostom to smooth thy band in ;
The polyglott-three parts,--my text:
Howbeit-likewise-now to my next-
Lo here the Septuagint,-and Paul,
To sum the whole,-the close of all.
He that has these, may pass his life,
Drink with the squire, and kiss his wife;
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill
And fast on Fridays-if he will;
Let the curious reader compare Fenton's imitation of Dor-
set's manner with this of Pope.
782
THE CAPON'S TALE-AY AND NO-&c.
Toast church and queen, explain the news,
Talk with churchwardens about pews;
Pray heartily for some new gift,
And shake his head at doctor SwiIFT
THE CAPON'S TALE.
TO A LADY, WHO FATHERED HER LAMPOONS UPON
HER ACQUAINTANCE.
IN Yorkshire dwelt a sober yeoman,
Whose wife, a clean, pains-taking woman,
Fed numerous poultry in her pens,
And saw her cocks well serve her hens.
A hen she had whose tuneful clocks
Drew after her a train of cocks;
With eyes so piercing, yet so pleasant,
You would have sworn this hen a pheasant.
All the plumed beau monde round her gathers;
Lord! what a bristling up of feathers!
Morning from noon there was no knowing,
There was such flutt'ring, chuckling, crowing;
Each forward bird must thrust his head in,
And not a cock but would be treading.
Yet tender was this hen so fair,
And hatch'd more chicks than she could rear
Our prudent dame bethought her then
Of some dry-nurse to save her hen:
She made a capon drunk; in fine
He eats the sops, she sipp'd the wine;
His rump well pluck'd with nettles stings,
And claps the brood beneath his wings.
The feather'd dupe awakes content,
O'erjoyed to see what God had sent;
Thinks he's the hen, clocks, keeps a pother,
A foolish foster-father-mother.
Such, lady Mary, are your tricks;
But since you hatch, pray own your chicks.
AY AND NO. A FABLE.
IN fable all things hold discourse;
Then words, no doubt, must talk of course.
Once on a time, near Channel-row,ª
Two hostile adverbs, AY and No,
Were hastening to the field of fight,
And front to front stood opposite.
Before each gen'ral join'd the van,
Ay, the more courteous knight, began.
Stop, peevish particle, beware!
I'm told you are not such a bear,
But sometimes yield, when offer'd fair.
Suffer yon folks a while to tattle;
'Tis we who must decide the battle.
Whene'er we war on yonder stage
With various fate and equal rage,
The nation trembles at each blow
That No gives Ay, and Ay gives No:
Yet, in expensive, long contention,
We gain nor office, grant, or pension:
Why then should kinsfolk quarrel thus?
(For two of you make one of us b)
To some wise statesman let us go,
Where each his proper use may know:
He may admit two such commanders,
And make those wait who served in Flanders.
Let's quarter on a great man's tongue,
A treasury lord, not master Young.
Obsequious at his high command,
Ay shall march forth to tax the land.
Impeachments No can best resist,
And Ay support the civil list;
Ay, quick as Cæsar wins the day;
And No, like Fabius, by delay.
a A dirty street near the parliament-house, Westminster.
b In English two negatives make an affirmative
Sometimes in mutual sly disguise,
Let Ayes seem Noes, and Noes seem Ayes;
Ayes be in courts denials meant,
And Noes in bishops give consent.
Thus Ay proposed-and for reply
No for the first time answer'd Ay.
They parted with a thousand kisses,
And fight e'er since for pay, like Swisses.
VERSES TO BE PREFIXED BEFORE BER-
NARD LINTOT'S NEW MISCELLANY a
SOME Colinæusb praise, some Bleaub
Others account them but so so;
Some Plantin to the rest prefer,
And some esteem old Elzevir;b
Others with Alduse would besot us;
I, for my part, admire Lintottus.—
His character's beyond compare,
Like his own person, large and fair.
They print their names in letters small,
But LINTOT stands in capital:
Author and he with equal grace
Appear and stare you in the face.
Stephens prints heathen Greek, 'tis said,
Which some can't construe, some can't read:
But all that comes from Lintot's hand
Ev'n Rawlinson might understand.
Oft in an Aldus or a Plantin
A page is blotted, or leaf wanting:
Of Lintot's books this can't be said,
All fair, and not so much as read.
Their copy cost them not a penny
To Homer, Virgil, or to any;
They ne'er gave sixpence for two lines
To them, their heirs, or their assigns :
But Lintot is at vast expense,
And
pays prodigious dear for-sense.
Their books are useful but to few,
A scholar, or a wit or two:
Lintot's for gen'ral use are fit;
For some folks read, but all folks s**
TO MR. JOHN MOORE,
[Apothecary, Abchurch-lane, London,]
AUTHOR OF THE CELEBRATED WORM-POWDER
How much, egregious MOORE, are we
Deceived by shows and forms!
Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,
All humankind are worms.
Man is a very worm by birth,
Vile reptile, weak and vain!
A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.
That woman is a worm, we find,
E'er since our grandame's evil;
She first conversed with her own kind,
That ancient worm, the devil.
The learned themselves we book-worms name,
The blockhead is a slow-worm;
The nymph, whose tail is all on flame,
Is aptly termed a glow-worm.
The fops are painted butterflies,
That flutter for a day;
First from a worm they take their rise,
And in a worm decay.
The flatterer an earwig grows;
Thus worms suit all conditions;
a The Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany.
Printers, famous for having published fine editions of the
Bible, and of the Greek and Roman classics."
A famous printer.
VERSES OCCASIONED BY AN &c.-PROLOGUE.
783
Misers are muck-worms, silk-worms beaux,
And death-watches physicians.
That statesmen have the worm is seen
By all their winding play;
Their conscience is a worm within,
That gnaws them night and day.
Ah! Moore! thy skill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rise,
If thou couldst make the courtier void
The worm that never dies!
O learned friend of Abchurch-lane,
Who sett'st our entrails free!
Vain is thy art, thy powder vain,
Since worms shall eat ev'n thee!
Our fate thou only canst adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Ev'n Button'sa wits to worms shall turn,
Who maggots were before.
VERSES
OCCASIONED BY AN &c. AT THE END OF MR. D'URFEY'S
NAME IN THE TITLE TO ONE OF HIS PLAYS.
JOVE call'd before him t'other day
The vowels, U, O, I, E, A;
All diphthongs, and all consonants,
Either of England, or of France:
And all that were, or wish'd to be,
Rank'd in the name of Tom D'Urfey.
Fierce in this cause the letters spoke all,
Liquids grew rough, and mutes turn'd vocal.
Those four proud syllables alone
Were silent, which by Fate's decree
Chimed in so smoothly, one by one,
To the sweet name of Tom D'Urfey.
N, by whom names subsist, declared,
To have no place in this 'twas hard :
And Q maintain'd 'twas but his due
Still to keep company with U;
So hoped to stand no less than he
In the great name of Tom D'Urfey.
E show'd a comma ne'er could claim
A place in any British name;
Yet, making here a perfect botch,
Thrusts your poor vowel from his notch;
Hiatus mi valdè deflendus!
From which, good Jupiter, defend us!
Sooner I'd quit my part in thee
Than be no part in Tom D'Urfey.
P protested, puff'd, and swore,
He'd not be served so like a beast;
He was a piece of emperor,
And made up half a pope at least.
C vow'd, he'd frankly have released
His double share in Cæsar Caius
For only one in Tom Durfeius.
I, consonant and vowel too,
To Jupiter did humbly sue,
That of his grace he would proclaim
Durfeius his true Latin name;
For though, without them both, 'twas clear
Himself could ne'er be Jupiter,
Yet they'd resign that post so high
To be the genitive, Durfei.
B and L swore b- and w—s!
X and Z cried p-x and z-s!
G swore, by G-d, it ne'er should be;
And W would not lose, not he,
a Button's coffeehouse in Covent-garden, frequented by the
wits of that time.
This accident happened by Mr. D'Urfey's having made a
flourish there, which the printer mistook for an &c.
An English letter's property
In the great name of Tom D'Urfey.
In short, the rest were all in fray,
From Christ-cross to et cætera.
They, though but standers by, too mutter'd;
Diphthongs and triphthongs swore and flutter'd,
That none had so much right to be
Part of the name of stuttering T
T—Tom-a-as-De-D'Ur-fey-fey.
Then Jove thus spake: "With care and pain
We form'd this name, renown'd in rhyme:
Not thine, immortal Neusgermain !a
Cost studious cabalists more time.
Yet now, as then, you all declare,
Far hence to Egypt you'll repair,
And turn strange hi'roglyphics there,
Rather than letters longer be,
Unless i' th' name of Tom D'Urfey.
"Were you all pleased, yet what, I pray,
To foreign letters could I say ?
What if the Hebrew next should aim
To turn quite backward D'Urfey's name?
Should the Greek quarrel too, by Styx, I
Could never bring in Psi and Xi:
Omicron and Omega from us
Would each hope to be O in Thomas;
And all the ambitious vowels vie,
No less than Pythagoric Y,
To have a place in Tom D'Urfey.
"Then, well-beloved and trusty letters!
Cons'nants, and vowels, much their better
We, willing to repair this breach,
And, all that in us lies, please each,
Et cæt'ra to our aid must call;
Et cat'ra represents you all;
Et cæt'ra, therefore, we decree,
Henceforth for ever join'd shall be
To the great name of Tom D'Urfey."
PROLOGUE
DESIGNED FOR MR. D'URFEY'S LAST PLAY.
GROWN old in rhyme, 'twere barbarous to discard
Your persevering, unexhausted bard;
Damnation follows death in other men,
But your damn'd poet lives, and writes again.
Th' adventurous lover is successful still,
Who strives to please the fair against her will :
Be kind, and make him in his wishes easy,
Who in your own despite has strove to please ye.
He scorn'd to borrow from the wits of yore,
But ever writ as none e'er writ before.
You modern wits, should each man bring his claim,
Have desperate debentures on your fame;
And little would be left you, I'm afraid,
If all your debts to Greece and Rome were paid.
From this deep fund our author largely draws,
Nor sinks his credit lower than it was.
Though plays for honour in old time he made,
'Tis now for better reasons—to be paid.
Believe him, he has known the world too long,
And seen the death of much immortal song,
He says, poor poets lost, while players won,
As pimps grow rich, while gallants are undone.
Though Tom the poet writ with ease and pleasure,
The comic Tom abounds in other treasure.
Fame is at best an unperforming cheat;
But 'tis substantial happiness to EAT.
Let ease, his last request, be of your giving,
Nor force him to be damn'd to get his living.
A poet who used to make verses ending with the last syl-
|lables of the names of those persons he praised.
784
PROLOGUE-SANDYS'S GHOST-UMBRA.
((
PROLOGUE
TO THE THREE HOURS AFTER MARRIAGE.
AUTHORS are judged by strange capricious rules;
The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools:
Yet sure the best are most severely fated;
For fools are only laugh'd at, wits are hated.
Blockheads with reason men of sense abhor;
But fool 'gainst fool is barbarous civil war.
Why on all authors then should critics fall?
Since some have writ and shown no wit at all.
Condemn a play of theirs, and they evade it;
Cry, "Damn not us, but damn the French who made
By running goods these graceless owlers gain; [it.”
Theirs are the rules of France, the plots of Spain:
But wit, like wine, from happier climates brought,
Dash'd by these rogues, turns English common
draught.
They pall Molière's and Lopez' sprightly strain,
And teach dull Harlequins to grin in vain.
How shall our author hope a gentler fate,
Who dares most impudently not translate?
It had been civil, in these ticklish times,
To fetch his fools and knaves from foreign climes.
Spaniards and French abuse to the world's end,
But spare Old England, lest you hurt a friend.
If any fool is by our satire bit,
Let him hiss loud, to show you all he's hit.
Poets make characters, as salesmen clothes;
We take no measure of your fops and beaux ;
But here all sizes and all shapes you meet,
And fit yourselves, like chaps in Monmouth-street.
Gallants, look here! this fool's capa has an air,
Goodly and smart, with ears of Issachar.
Let no one fool engross it, or confine
A common blessing! now 'tis yours, now mine.
But poets in all ages had the care
To keep this cap for such as will, to wear.
Our author has it now (for every wit,
Of course resign'd it to the next that writ);
And thus upon the stage 'tis fairly thrown ;b
Let him that takes it wear it as his own.
SANDYS'S GHOST:
OR, A PROPER NEW BALLAD ON THE NEW OVID'S
METAMORPHOSES,
As it was intended to be translated by persons of quality.
George Sandys, the old translator (whose ghost is introduced
in the verses), was a man of great accomplishment, and pro-
nounced by Dryden to be the best versifier of his ago.
YE lords and commons, men of wit
And pleasure about town,
Read this, ere you translate one bit
Of books of high renown.
Beware of Latin authors all,
Nor think your verses sterling,
Though with a golden pen you scrawl,
And scribble in a berlin:
For not the desk with silver nails,
Nor bureau of expense,
Nor standish well japann'd, avails
To writing of good sense.
Hear how a ghost in dead of night,
With saucer eyes of fire,
In woful wise did sore affright
A wit and courtly 'squire.
Rare imp of Phoebus, hopeful youth!
Like puppy tame, that uses
To fetch and carry in his mouth
The works of all the Muses.
Shows a cap with ears. b Flings down the cap, and exit.
Ah! why did he write poetry,
That hereto was so civil;
And sell his soul for vanity
To rhyming and the devil?
A desk he had of curious work,
With glittering studs about;
Within the same did Sandys lurk,
Though Ovid lay without.
Now, as he scratch'd to fetch up thought,
Forth popp'd the sprite so thin,
And from the keyhole bolted out,
All upright as a pin.
With whiskers, band, and pantaloon,
And ruff composed most duly,
This 'squire he dropp'd his pen full soon,
While as the light burnt bluely.
Ho! master Sam, quoth Sandys' sprite,
Write on, nor let me scare ye;
Forsooth, if rhymes fall not in right,
To Budgel seek, or Carey.
I hear the beat of Jacob's drums,
Poor Ovid finds no quarter!
See first the merry Pembroke comes
In haste, without his garter.
Then lords and lordlings, squires and knights,
Wits, witlings, prigs, and peers;
Garth at St. James's, and at White's,
Beats up for volunteers.
What Fenton will not do, nor Gay,
Nor Congreve, Rowe, nor Stanyan,
Tom Burnet or Tom D'Urfey may,
John Dunton, Steele, or any one.
If justice Philips' costive head
Some frigid rhymes disburses;
They shall like Persian tales be read,
And glad both babes and nurses.
Let Warwick's Muse with Ash-t join,
And Ozel's with lord Hervey's,
Tickell and Addison combine,
L
And Pope translate with Jervas.
himself, that lively lord,
Who bows to every lady,
Shall join with F- in one accord,
And be like Tate and Brady.
Ye ladies, too, draw forth your pen;
I
pray, where can the hurt lie?
Since you have brains as well as men,
As witness lady Wortley.
Now, Tonson, list thy forces all,
Review them and tell noses:
For to poor Ovid shall befall
A strange metamorphosis;
A metamorphosis more strange
Than all his books can vapour-
"To what (quoth squire) snall Ovid change?"
Quoth Sandys, "To waste paper."
UMBRA.
CLOSE to the best-known author UMBRA sits,
The constant index to old Button's wits.
"Who's here?" cries Umbra: "only Johnson"a_“O)!
Your slave," and exit; but returns with Rowe:
"Dear Rowe, let's sit and talk of tragedies:"
Ere long Pope enters, and to Pope he flies.
Then up comes Steele: he turns upon his heel,
And in a moment fastens upon Steele;
A Charles Johnson, a second-rate dramatist, and great fre-
quentor of Button's.
DUKE UPON DUKE.
785
But cries as soon, "Dear Dick, I must be gone,
For, if I know his tread, here's Addison."
Says Addison to Steele, ""Tis time to go:"
Pope to the closet steps aside with Rowe.
Poor Umbra, left in this abandon'd pickle,
E'en sits him down, and writes to honest Tickell.
Fool! 'tis in vain from wit to wit to roam ;
Know, sense, like charity, "begins at home."
DUKE UPON DUKE.
AN EXCELLENT NEW BALLAD.
To the tune of "Chevy-chace."
This ballad is founded upon a quarrel with sir John Guise,
bart., M. P. for Gloucestershire, and Nicholas lord Lechmere,
a Whig statesman of some eminence, at the time chancellor of
the duchy court of Lancaster, which gave rise to the title by
which he is here designated.
To lordlings proud I tune my lay,
Who feast in bower or hall ;
Though dukes they be, to dukes I say
That pride will have a fall.
Now, that this same it is right sooth
Full plainly doth appear,
From what befel John duke of Guise
And Nic of Lancastere.
When Richard Cœur de Lion reign'd,
(Which means a lion's heart,)
Like him his barons raged and roar'd;
Each play'd a lion's part.
A word and blow was then enough:
Such honour did them prick,
If you but turn'd your cheek, a cuff,
And if your a-se, a kick.
Look in their face, they tweak'd your nose ;.
At every turn fell to't;
Come near, they trod upon your toes;
They fought from head to foot.
Of these the duke of Lancastere
Stood paramount in pride;
He kick'd, and cuff'd, and tweak'd, and' trod
His foes, and friends beside.
Firm on his front his beaver sate;.
So broad it hid his chin;
For why? he deem'd no man his mate,
And fear'd to tan his skin.
ith Spanish wool he dyed his cheek,
With essence oil'd his hair
No vixen civet-cat so sweet,
Nor could so scratch and tear.
Right tall he made himself to show,
Though made full short by God;
And when all other dukes did bow,
This duke did only nod.
Yet courteous, blithe, and debonnair,
To Guise's duke was he :
Was ever such a loving pair?
How could they disagree?
Oh, thus it was: he loved him dear,
And cast how to requite him:
And having no friend left but this,
He deem'd it meet to fight him.
Forthwith he drench'd his desp'rate quill,
And thus he did indite:
This eve at whisk ourself will play,
Sir duke! be here to-night."
"Ah no! ah no!" the guileless Guise
Demurely did reply ;
"I cannot go, nor yet can stand,
So sore the gout have I."
VOL. I.
The duke in wrath call'd for his steeds,
And fiercely drove them on;
Lord! Lord! how rattled then thy stones,
O kingly Kensington!
All on a trice he rush'd on Guise,
Thrust out his lady dear:
He tweak'd his nosc, trod on his toes,
And smote him on the car.
But mark, how 'midst of victory
Fate plays her old dog-trick !
Up leapt duke John, and knock'd him down,
And so down fell duke Nic.
Alas, O Nic! O Nic, alas !
Right did thy gossip call thee:
As who should say, alas the day
When John of Guise shall maul thee!
For on thee did he clap his chair,
And on that chair did sit;
And look'd as if he meant therein
To do what was not fit.
Up didst thou look, O woeful duke!
Thy mouth yet durst not ope,
Certes for fear of finding there
A t―d, instead of trope.
"Lie there, thou caitiff vile!" quoth Guise;
"No shift is here to save thee:
The casement it is shut likewise
Beneath my feet I have thee."
If thou hast aught to speak, speak out."
Then Lancastere did cry,
"Know'st thou not me, nor yet thyself?
Who thou, and who am I?
"Know'st thou not me, who (God be praised!)
Have brawl'd and quarrell'd more
Than all the line of Lancastere
That battled heretofore?
"In senates famed for many a speech,
And (what some awe must give ye,
Though laid thus low beneath thy breech)
Still of the council privy;
"Still of the duchy chancellor;
Durante life, I have it;
And turn, as now thou dost on me,
Mine a-se on them that gave it."
But now the servants they rush'd in;
And duke Nic up leap'd he;
"I will not cope against such odds,
But Guise! I'll fight with thee:
"To-morrow with thee will I fight
Under the greenwood tree;"
"No, not to-morrow, but to-night,"
Quoth Guise, "I'll fight with thee."
And now the sun declining low
Bestreak'd with blood the skies,
When, with his sword at saddlebow,
Rode forth the valiant Guise.
Full gently pranced he o'er the lawn ;
Oft roll'd his eyes around,
And from the stirrup stretch'd to find
Who was not to be found.
Long brandish'd he the blade in air,
Long look'd the field all o'er:
At length he spied the merry-men brown.
And eke the coach and four.
From out the boot bold Nicholas
Did wave his wand so white,
As pointing out the gloomy glade
Wherein he meant to fight:
3 E
7786
FRAGMENT OF A SATIRE-&c.
All in that dreadful hour so calm
Was Lancastere to see,
As if he meant to take the air,
Or only take a fee :
And so he did-for to New-court
His rolling wheels did run;
Not that he shunn'd the doubtful strife,
But business must be done.
Back in the dark, by Brompton-park,
He turn'd up through the Gore;
So slunk to Camden-house so high,
All in his coach-and-four.
Meanwhile duke Guise did fret and fume,
A sight it was to see,
Benumb'd beneath the evening dew
Under the greenwood tree.
Then, wet and weary, home he fared,
Sore mutt'ring all the way,
"The day I meet him, Nic shall rue
The cudgel of that day.
"Meantime on every pissing-post
Paste we this recreant's name,
So that each passer-by shall read
And piss against the same."
Now God preserve our gracious king,
And grant his nobles all
May learn this lesson from duke Nic,
That "pride will have a fall."
FRAGMENT OF A SATIRE.
IF meagre Gildon draws his venal quill,
I wish the man a dinner, and sit still ;
If dreadful Dennis raves in furious fret,
I'll answer Dennis when I am in debt.
'Tis hunger, and not malice, makes them print;
And who'll wage war with Bedlam or the Mint?
Should some more sober critics come abroad,
If wrong, I smile; if right, I kiss the rod.
Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence;
And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense.
Commas and points they set exactly right,
And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite:
Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced those ribalds,
From slashing Bentley down to piddling Tibalds,
Who thinks he reads when he but scans and spells;
A word-catcher that lives on syllables.
Yet e'en this creature may some notice claim,
Wrapp'd round and sanctified with Shakspeare's
Pretty! in amber to observe the forms [name.
Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms!
The thing, we know, is neither rich nor rare,
And wonder how the devil it got there.
Are others angry! I excuse them too:
Well may they rage; I gave them but their due.
Each man's true merit 'tis not hard to find;
But each man's secret standard is his mind,
That casting-weight pride adds to emptiness,
This who can gratify? for who can guess ?
The wretch, whom pilfer'd pastorals renown,
Who turns a Persian talea for half-a-crown,
Just writes to make his barrenness appear,
And strains from hardbound brains six lines a-year;
In sense still wanting, though he lives on theft,
Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left.
Johnson, who now to sense, now nonsense leaning,
Means not, but blunders round about a meaning:
And he, whose fustian's so sublimely bad,
b
It is not poetry, but prose run mad.c
Persian Tales;" a book
↑ Ambrose Philips translated the "Persian Tales;'
full of fancy and imagination.
b Author of the "Victim," and "Cobbler of Preston."
• Verse of Dr. Ev.
Should modest Satire bid all these translate,
And own that nine such poets make a Tate,
How would they fume, and stamp, and roar, and
chafe!
[safe!
How would they swear, not CONGREVE'sa self was
Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires
Apollo kindled, and fair Fame inspires;
Bless'd with each talent and each art to please,
And born to write, converse, and live with ease:
Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,
Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne;
View him with scornful, yet with fearful eyes,
And hate for arte that caused himself to rise:
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering teach the rest to sneer:
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend;
Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged,
And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged;
Who, if two wits on rival themes contest,
Approves of each, but likes the worst the best;
Like Cato, gives his little senate laws,
And sits attentive to his own applause;
While wits and Templars every sentence raise,
And wonder with a foolish face of praise,
What pity, Heaven! if such a man there be;
Who would not weep, if ADDISON were he!
MACER.
FIRST PRINTED IN 1727.
WHEN simple Macer,b now of high renown,
First sought a poet's fortune in the town;
'Twas all th' ambition his great soul could feel,
To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steele.
Some ends of verse his betters might afford,
And gave the harmless fellow a good word.
Set
up with these, he ventured on the town,
And in a borrow'd play out-did poor Crown.
There he stopp'd short, nor since has writ a tittle,
But has the wit to make the most of little;
Like stunted hidebound trees, that just have got
Sufficient sap at once to bear and rot.
Now he begs verse, and what he gets commends,
Not of the wits his foes, but fools his friends.
Trudges to town, and first turns chambermaid :
So some coarse country wench, almost decay'd,
Awkward and supple each devoir to pay,
Thought wondrous honest, though of mean degree,
She flatters her good lady twice a-day;
And strangely liked for her simplicity:
In a translated suit then tries the town,
With borrow'd pins, and patches not her own;
But just endured the winter she began,
And in four months a batter'd harridan.
Now nothing's left but, wither'd, pale, and shrunk,
To bawd for others, and go shares with punk.
SYLVIA, A FRAGMENT.
SYLVIA my heart in wondrous wise alarm'd,
Awed without sense, and without beauty charm'd;
But some odd graces and some flights she had,
Was just not ugly, and was just not mad:
Her tongue still ran on credit from her eyes,
More pert than witty, more a wit than wise:
Good-nature, she declared it, was her scorn,
Though 'twas by that alone she could be borne:
Thus it originally stood in the "Miscellanies," though the
name was afterwards altered to "Addison;" a circumstance,
says Mr. Nicol, not noticed by the learned commentators upon
Pope.
Said to be the character of James Moore Smith.
He requested by pablic advertisements the aid of the in-
genious to make up a miscellany in 1713.
SONG-BALLAD-&c.
7787
Affronting all, yet fond of a good name;
A fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame:
Now coy, and studious in no point to fall,
Now all agog for D
-y at a ball:
Now deep in Taylor, and the Book of Martyrs,
Now drinking citron with his grace and Chartres.
Men, some to business, some to pleasure take;
But every woman's in her soul a rake,
Frail, feverish sex; their fit now chills, now burns;
Atheism and superstition rule by turns;
And a mere heathen in the carnal part,
Is still a sad good christian at her heart.a
IMPROMPTU
< TO LADY WINCHELSEA.
OCCASIONED BY FOUR SATIRICAL VERSES ON WOMEN
WITS, IN THE RAPE OF THE LOCK.
In vain you boast poetic names of yore,
And cite those Sapphoes we admire no more;
Fate doom'd the fall of every female wit;
But doom'd it then, when first Ardelia writ.
Of all examples by the world confess'd
I knew Ardelia could not quote the best ;
Who, like her mistress on Britannia's throne,
Fights and subdues in quarrels not her own.
To write their praise you but in vain essay;
Ev'n while you write, you take that praise away :
Light to the stars the sun does thus restore,
But shines himself till they are seen no more.
EPIGRAM.
A BISHOP by his neighbours hated
Has cause to wish himself translated:
But why should Hough desire translation,
Loved and esteem'd by all the nation?
Yet, if it be the old man's case,
I'll lay my life I know the place:
'Tis where God sent some that adore him,
And whither Enoch went before him.
TO MRS. MARTHA BLOUNT.
SENT ON HER BIRTHDAY, JUNE 15TH.
O, BE thou bless'd with all that Heaven can send,
Long health, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend!
Not with those toys the female race admire,
Riches that vex, and vanities that tire;
Not as the world its petty slaves rewards,
A youth of frolics, an old age of cards;
Fair to no purpose, artful to no end;
Young without lovers, old without a friend;
A fop their passion, but their prize a sot;
Alive, ridiculous; and dead, forgot!
Let joy or ease, let affluence or content,
And the gay conscience of a life well spent,
Calm every thought, inspirit every grace,
Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face:
Let day improve on day, and year on year,
Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear;
Till death unfelt that tender frame destroy
In some soft dream or ecstacy of joy;
Peaceful sleep out the sabbath of the tomb,
And wake to raptures in a life to come!
SONG.
BY A PERSON OF QUALITY [THE EARL OF PETERBOROUGH].
I SAID to my heart between sleeping and waking,
Thou wild thing, that always art leaping or aching,
What black, brown, or fair, in what clime, in what
nation,
By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-pat-ation?
This character was designed for the then duchess of Ha-
milton.
Thus accused, the wild thing gave this sober reply:
See the heart without motion, though Celia pass by!
Not the beauty she has, or the wit that she borrows,
Gives the eye any joys, or the heart any sorrows.
When our Sappho appears, she whose wit's so refined,
I am forced to applaud with the rest of mankind;
Whatever she says is with spirit and fire;
Every word I attend; but I only admire.
Prudentia as vainly would put in her claim,
Ever gazing on heaven, though man is her aim :
'Tis love, not devotion, that turns up her eyes:
Those stars of this world are too good for the skies.
But Chloe so lively, so easy, so fair,
Her wit so genteel, without art, without care;
When she comes in my way, the motion, the pain,
The leapings, the achings, return all again.
O wonderful creature! a woman of reason!
Never grave out of pride, never gay out of season!
When so easy to guess who this angel should be,
Would one think Mrs. Howard ne'er dream'd it
was she?
BALLAD.
Of all the girls that e'er were seen,
There's none so fine as Nelly,
For charming face, and shape, and mien,
And what's not fit to tell ye :
Oh! the turn'd neck, and smooth white skin
Of lovely dearest Nelly!
For many a swain it well had been,
Had she ne'er pass'd by Calai.
For when as Nelly came to France,
(Invited by her cousins,)
Across the Thuileries each glance
Kill'd Frenchmen by whole dozens;
The king, as he at dinner sat,
Did beckon to his hussar,
And bid him bring his tabby cat
For charming Nell to buss her.
The ladies were with rage provoked,
To see her so respected:
The men look'd arch, as Nelly stroked,
And puss her tail erected.
But not a man did look employ,
Except on pretty Nelly,
Then said the duke de Villeroy,
Ah! qu'elle est bien jolie!
But who's that grave philosopher,
That carefully looks at her?
By his concern it should appear
The fair one is his daughter.
Ma foy! (quoth then a courtier sly,)
He on his child does leer too;
I wish he has no mind to try
What some papas will here do.
The courtiers all with one accord
Broke out in Nelly's praises,
Admired her rose and lys sans farde
(Which are your termes Françoises)
Then might you see a painted ring
Of dames that stood by Nelly :
She, like the pride of all the spring,
And they like fleurs de palais.
In Marli's gardens and St. Clou
I saw this charming Nelly,
Where shameless nymphs, exposed to view,
Stand naked in each alley :
But Venus had a brazen face,
Both at Versailles and Meudon,
Or else she had resign'd her place,
And left the stone she stood on.
32
788
EPIGRAMS--A PANEGYRICAL EPISTLE--&c.
A PANEGYRICAL EPISTLE
Were Nelly's figure mounted there,
'Twould put down all th' Italian :
Lord! how those foreigners would stare!
But I should turn Pygmalion:
For, spite of lips, and eyes, and mien,
Me nothing can delight so,
As does that part that lies between
Her left toe and her right toe
ODE FOR MUSIC. ON THE LONGITUDE.
RECITATIVO.
THE longitude miss'd on
By wicked Will Whiston;
And not better hit on
By good master Ditton.
RITORNELLO.
So Ditton and Whiston
May both be bep-st on;
And Whiston and Ditton
May both be besh-t on.
Sing Ditton,
Besh-t on;
And Whiston,
Bep-st on.
Sing Ditton and Whiston,
And Whiston and Ditton,
Besh-t and bep-st on,
Bep-st and besh-t on.
EPIGRAM
DA CAPO.
ON THE FEUDS ABOUT HANDEL AND BONONCINI.
STRANGE! all this difference should be
'Twixt Tweedle-DUM and Tweedle-DEE!
ON MRS. TOFTS,
A CELEBRATED OPERA-SINGER.
So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song,
As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus
But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, [along;
That the beasts must have starved and the poet have
died.
TWO OR THREE;
OR, A RECEIPT TO MAKE A CUCKOLD.
Two or three visits, and two or three bows,
Two or three civil things, two or three vows,
Two or three kisses, with two or three sighs,
Two or three JESUSES and LET-ME-DIES,
Two or three squeezes, or two or three towzes,
With two or three thousand pound lost at their houses,
Can never fail cuckolding two or three spouses.
EPIGRAM
IN A MAID OF HONOUR'S PRAYER-BOOK.
WHEN Israel's daughters mourn'd their past offences,
They dealt in sackcloth, and turn'd cinder-wenches;
But Richmond's fair ones never spoil their locks;
They use white powder and wear Holland smocks.
O comely church! where females find clean linen
As decent to repent in as to sin in.
THE BALANCE OF EUROPE.
Now Europe balanced, neither side prevails;
For nothing's left in either of the scales.
;
TO MR. THOMAS SNOW, GOLDSMITH, NEAR TEMPLE-BAR
Occasioned by his buying and selling the third South Sea
subscriptions, taken in by the directors at 1000 per cent.ª
DISDAIN not, SNOW, my humble verse to hear,
Stick thy black pen awhile behind thy ear.
Whether thy counter shine with sums untold,
And thy wide-grasping hand grows black with gold;
Whether thy mien erect, and sable locks,
In crowds of brokers overawe the stocks;
Suspend the worldly business of the day,
And, to enrich thy mind, attend my lay.
O thou, whose penetrative wisdom found
The South Sea rocks and shelves where thousands
drown'd!
When credit sunk, and commerce gasping lay,
Thou stood'st; no bill was sent unpaid away.
When not a guinea chink'd on Martin'sb boards,
And Atwill's self was drain'd of all his hoards,
Thou stood'st; an Indian king in size and hue!
Thy unexhausted shop was our Peru.
Why did 'Change-alley waste thy precious hours
Among the fools who gaped for golden showers?
No wonder if we find some poets there,
Who live on fancy and can feed on air;
No wonder they were caught by South Sea schemes,
Who ne'er enjoy'd a guinea but in dreams;
No wonder they their third subscriptions sold
For millions of imaginary gold;
No wonder that their fancies wild can frame
Strange reasons that a thing is still the same,
Though changed throughout in substance and in
name.
But you (whose judgment scorns poetic flights)
With contracts furnish boys for paper kites.
Let vulture Hopkins stretch his rusty throat,
Who ruins thousands for a single groat:
I know thou scorn'st his mean, his sordid mind;
Nor with ideal debts would'st plague mankind.
Madmen alone their empty dreams pursue,
And still believe the fleeting vision true;
They sell the treasures which their slumbers get,
Then wake, and fancy all the world in debt.
If to instruct thee all my reasons fail,
Yet be diverted by this moral tale.
Though famed Moorfields extends a spacious seat,
Where mortals of exalted wit retreat ;
Where, wrapp'd in contemplation and in straw,
The wiser few from the mad world withdraw,
There in full opulence a banker dwelt,
Who all the joys and pangs of riches felt:
His sideboard glitter'd with imagined plate,
And his proud fancy held a vast estate.
As on a time he pass'd the vacant hours
In raising piles of straw and twisted bowers,
A poet enter'd, of the neighbouring cell,
And with fix'd eye observed the structure well:
A sharpen'd skewer 'cross his bare shoulders bound
A tatter'd rug, which dragg'd upon the ground.
The banker cried, "Behold my castle walls,
My statues, gardens, fountains, and canals,
With land of more than twenty acres round!
All these I sell thee for ten thousand pound."
The bard with wonder the cheap purchase saw
So sign'd the contract (as ordains the law).
a In the year 1720 the South Sea company, under pretence
of paying the public debt, obtained an act of parliament for
enlarging their capital by taking into it all the debts of the na-
tion incurred before the year 1716, amounting to 31,664,5517.
Part of this sum was subscribed into their capital at three sub-
scriptions; the first at 300l. per cent., the second at 400/., and a
third at 1000l. Such was the infatuation of the time that these
subscriptions were bought and sold at exorbitant premiums;
so that 100%. South Sea stock, subscribed at 10007., was sold
for 12007. in Exchange-alley.
b Names of eminent goldsmiths.
BALLAD ON QUADRILLE-MOLLY MOG.
789
The banker's brain was cool'd; the mist grew clear;
The visionary scene was lost in air.
He now the vanish'd prospect understood,
And fear'd the fancied bargain was not good;
Yet loth the sum entire should be destroy'd,
"Give me a penny, and thy contract's void."
The startled bard with eye indignant frown'd;
"Shall I, ye gods," he cries, "my debts compound?"
So saying, from his rug the skewer he takes,
And on the stick ten equal notches makes;
With just resentment flings it on the ground;
"There, take my tally of ten thousand pound."a
A BALLAD ON QUADRILLE.
WRITTEN BY MR. CONGREVE.
I.
WHEN as Corruption hence did go,
And left the nation free;
When Ay said Ay, and No said No,
Without a place or fee;
Then Satan, thinking things went ill,
Sent forth his spirit call'd Quadrille,
Quadrille, Quadrille, &c.
II.
Kings, queens, and knaves made up his pack,
And four fair suits he wore;
His troops they are with red and black
All blotch'd and spotted o'er;
And every house, go where you will,
Is haunted by the imp Quadrille, &c.
III.
Sure cards he has for everything,
Which well court-cards they name;
And statesman-like, calls in the king,
To help out a bad game;
But if the parties manage ill,
The king is forced to loose Codille, &c.
IV.
When two and two were met of old,
Though they ne'er meant to marry,
They were in Cupid's books enroll'd,
And call'd a party quarrée:
But now, meet when and where you will,
A party quarrée is Quadrille, &c.
V.
The commoner, and knight, the peer,
Men of all ranks and fame,
Leave to their wives the only care,
To propagate their name;
And well that duty they fulfil
When the good husband's at Quadrille, &c.
VI.
When patients lie in piteous case,
In comes th' apothecary;
And to the doctor cries alas!
Non debes quadrillare.
The patient dies without a pill,
For why? the doctor's at Quadrille, &c.
VII.
Should France and Spain again grow loud,
The Muscovite grow louder,
Britain, to curb her neighbours proud,
Would want both ball and powder;
Must want both sword and gun to kill;
For why? the general's at Quadrille, &c.
a Charles II., having borrowed a considerable sum, gave
tallies as a security for the repayment; but soon after shutting
up the exchequer, these tallies were as much reduced from
their original value as the South Sea had exceeded it.
On the subject of this ballad, see a letter from Dr. Arbuth-
not to dean Swift, dated November 8, 1726
VIII.
The king of late drew forth his sword,
(Thank God 'twas not in wrath,)
And made of many a 'squire and lord
An unwash'd knight of Bath :
What are their feats of arms and skill?
They're but nine parties at Quadrille, &c.
IX.
A party late at Cambray met,
Which drew all Europe's eyes;
'Twas call'd in Postboy and Gazette
The Quadruple Allies;
But somebody took something ill,
So broke this party at Quadrille, &c.
X.
And now, God save this noble realm,
And God save eke Hanover;
And God save those who hold the helm
When as the king goes over:
But let the king go where he will,
His subjects must play at Quadrille,
Quadrille, Quadrille, &c.
MOLLY MOG;
OR, THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
[The Rose Inn, Ockingham, Berkshire.]
SAYS my uncle, I pray you discover
What hath been the cause of your woes,
Why you pine and you whine like a lover?
I've seen Molly Mog of the Rose.
O nephew! your grief is but folly;
In town you may find better prog:
Half-a-crown there will get you a Molly,
A Molly much better than Mog.
I know that by wits 'tis recited,
That women at best are a clog:
But I'm not so easily frighted
From loving my sweet Molly Mog.
The schoolboy's delight is a play-day,
The scholmaster's joy is to flog;
The milkmaid's delight is on May-day ;
But mine is on sweet Molly Mog.
Will-o'-wisp leaves the traveller a-gadding
Through ditch and through quagmire and bog;
But no light can set me a madding,
Like the eyes of my sweet Molly Mog.
For guineas in other men's breeches
Your gamesters will palm and will cog:
But I envy them none of their riches,
So I may win sweet Molly Mog.
The heart, when half-wounded, is changing,
It here and there leaps like a frog:
But my heart can never be ranging,
'Tis so fix'd upon sweet Molly Mog.
Who follows all ladies of pleasure,
In pleasure is thought but a hog;
All the sex cannot give so good measure
Of joys as my sweet Molly Mog.
I feel I'm in love to distraction,
My senses all lost in a fog;
And nothing can give satisfaction
But thinking of sweet Molly Mog.
A letter when I am inditing,
Comes Cupid, and gives me a jog;
And I fill all the paper with writing
Of nothing but sweet Molly Mog.
If I would not give up the three Graces,
I wish I were hang'd like a dog,
790
A NEW SONG-NEWGATE'S GARLAND.
..
And at court all the drawing-room faces,
For a glance of my sweet Molly Mog.
Those faces want nature and spirit,
And seem as cut out of a log:
Juno, Venus, and Pallas's merit
Unite in my sweet Molly Mog.
Those who toast all the family royal
In bumpers of hogan and nog
Have hearts not more true or more loyal
Than mine to my sweet Molly Mog.
Were Virgil alive with his Phillis,
And writing another eclogue,
Both his Phillis and fair Amaryllis
He'd give up for sweet Molly Mog.
When she smiles on each guest, like her liquor,
Then jealousy sets me agog;
To be sure she's a bit for the vicar,
And so I shall lose Molly Mog.
A NEW SONG OF NEW SIMILES.
My passion is as mustard strong;
I sit all sober sad,
Drunk as a piper all day long,
Or like a March hare mad.
Round as a hoop the bumpers flow;
I drink, yet can't forget her;
For, though as drunk as David's sow,
I love her still the better.
Pert as a pearmonger I'd be,
If Molly were but kind;
Cool as a cucumber could see
The rest of womankind.
Like a stuck pig I gaping stare,
And eye her o'er and o'er;
Lean as a rake with sighs and care,
Sleek as a mouse before.
Plump as a partridge was I known,
And soft as silk my skin;
My cheeks as fat as butter grown,
But as a groat now thin!
I, melancholy as a cat,
Am kept away to weep;
But she, insensible of that,
Sound as a top can sleep.
Hard is her heart as flint or stone;
She laughs to see me pale;
And merry as a grig is grown,
And brisk as bottled ale.
The god of love, at her approach,
Is busy as a bee!
Hearts sound as any bell or roach
Are smit, and sigh like me.
Ah me! as thick as hops or hail,
The fine men crowd about her:
But soon as dead as a door-nail
Shall I be, if without her.
Straight as my leg her shape appears;
Q were we join'd together!
My heart would be scotfree from cares,
And lighter than a feather.
As fine as fivepence is her mien ;
No drum was ever tighter;
Her glance is as the razor keen,
And not the sun is brighter.
As soft as pap her kisses are,
Methinks I taste them yet;
Brown as a berry is her hair,
Her eyes as black as jet.
As smooth as glass, as white as curds,
Her pretty hand invites ;
Sharp as a needle are her words;
Her wit like pepper bites.
Brisk as a body-louse she trips,
Clean as a penny dress'd;
Sweet as a rose her breath and lips,
Round as the globe her breast.
Full as an egg was I with glee,
And happy as a king:
Good Lord! how all men envied me!
She loved like anything.
But, false as hell, she, like the wind,
Changed as her sex must do;
Though seeming as the turtle kind,
And like the Gospel true.
If I and Molly could agree,
Let who would take Peru,
Great as an emp'ror should I be,
And richer than a Jew.
Till you grow tender as a chick,
I'm dull as any post:
Let us like burs together stick,
And warm as any toast.
You'll know me truer than a die,
And wish me better sped,
Flat as a flounder when I lie,
And as a herring dead.
Sure as a gun she'll drop a tear,
And sigh, perhaps, and wish,
When I am rotten as as a pear,
And mute as any fish.
NEWGATE'S GARLAND.
Being a new ballad, showing how Mr. Jonathan Wild's
throat was cut from ear to ear with a penknife by Mr. Blake,
alias Blueskin, the bold highwayman, as he stood at his trial
at the Old Bailey. 1725.
To the tune of "The Cutpurse."
I.
YE gallants of Newgate, whose fingers are nice
In diving in pockets or cogging of dice;
Ye sharpers so rich who can buy off the noose,
Ye honester poor rogues who die in your shoes;
Attend and draw near,
Good news ye shall hear,
How Jonathan's throat was cut from ear to ear,
How Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease,
And every man round me may rob if he please.
II.
When to the Old Bailey this Blueskin was led,
He held up his hand: his indictment was read;
Loud rattled his chains; near him Jonathan stood;
For full forty pounds was the price of his blood.
Then hopeless of life,
He drew his penknife,
And made a sad widow of Jonathan's wife.
But forty pounds paid her her grief shall appease,
And every man round me may rob if he please.
III.
Some say there are courtiers of highest renown,
Who steal the king's gold, and leave him but a crown;
Some say there are peers and parliament-men
Who meet once a-year to rob courtiers again.
Let them all take their swing,
To pillage the king,
And get a blue ribbon instead of a string.
Now Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease,
And every man round me may rob if he please.
STREPHON AND FLAVIA-THE QUIDNUNCKIS.
791
IV.
Knaves of old, to hide guilt by their cunning inven-
tions,
Call'd briberies grants, and plain robberies pensions;
Physicians and lawyers (who take their degrees
To be learned rogues) call'd their pilfering fees.
Since this happy day
Now every man may
Rob (as safe as in office) upon the highway.
For Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease,
And every man round me may rob if he please.
V.
Some cheat in the customs, some rob the excise;
But he who robs both is esteemed most wise.
Churchwardens, too prudent to hazard the halter,
As yet only venture to steal from the altar.
But now, to get gold,
They may be more bold,
And rob on the highway, since Jonathan's cold.
For Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease,
And every man round me may rob if he please.
VI.
Some by public revenues, which pass'd through their
hands,
Have purchased clean houses and bought dirty lands:
Some to steal from a charity think it no sin,
Which at home (says the proverb) does always begin.
But if ever you be
Assign'd a trustee,
Treat not orphans like masters of the chancery.
But take the highway, and more honestly seize;
For every man round me may rob if he please.
VII.
What a pother has here been with Wood and his brass,
Who would modestly make a few halfpennies pass!
The patent is good, and the precedent's old,
For Diomede changed his copper for gold:
But, if Ireland despise
The new halfpennies,
With more safety to rob on the road I advise.
For Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease,
And every man round me may rob if he please.
STREPHON AND FLAVIA.
WITH every lady in the land
Soft Strephon kept a pother;
One year he languish'd for one hand,
And next year for the other.
Yet, when his love the shepherd told
To Flavia fair and coy,
Reserved, demure, than snow more cold,
She scorn'd the gentle boy.
Late at a ball he own'd his pain;
She blush'd, and frown'd, and swore,
With all the marks of high disdain,
She'd never hear him more.
The swain persisted still to pray,
The nymph still to deny ;
At last she vow'd she would not stay;
He swore she should not fly.
Enraged, she call'd her footman straight,
And rush'd from out the room;
Drove to her lodging, lock'd the gate,
And lay with Ralph at home.
THE QUIDNUNCKIS:
A TALE OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF THE DUKE
REGENT OF FRANCE.
How vain are mortal man's endeavours!
(Said, at dame Elleot's, master Travers.)
a Coffeehouse near St. James's.
Good Orleans dead! in truth 'tis hard:
O! may all statesmen die prepar'd!
I do foresee (and for foreseeing
He equals any man in being)
The army ne'er can be disbanded.
-I wish the king were safely landed.
Ah, friends! great changes threat the land!
All France and England at a stand:
There's Meroweis-mark! strange work!
And there's the czar, and there's the Turk-
The pope-
-An India merchant by
Cut short the speech with this reply:
All at a stand? you see great changes?
Ah, sir! you never saw the Ganges:
There dwells the nation of Quidnunckis
(So Monomotapa calls monkeys):
On either bank, from bough to bough,
They meet and chat (as we may now);
Whispers go round, they grin, they shrug;
They bow, they snarl, they scratch, they hug:
And, just as chance or whim provoke them,
They either bite their friends or stroke them.
There have I seen some active prig,
To show his parts, bestride a twig.;
Lord! how the chatt'ring tribe admire!
Not that he's wiser, but he's higher :
All long to try the vent'rous thing
(For power is but to have one's swing).
From side to side he springs, he spurns,
And bangs his foes and friends by turns.
Thus, as in giddy freaks he bounces,
Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces:
Down the swift stream the wretch is borne!
Never, ah never, to return!
Z- -ds! what a fall had our dear brother!
"Morbleu !" cries one; and "damme," t'other.
The nation gives a gen'ral screech;
None cocks his tail, none claws his breech;
Each trembles for the public weal,
And for a while forgets to steal.
A while all eyes, intent and steady,
Pursue him whirling down the eddy:
But, out of mind when out of view,
Some other mounts the twig anew;
And bus'ness, on each monkey shore,
Runs the same track it ran before.
THE LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH
FOR THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG, A PASTORAL.
Pope writes to Swift that the bookseller wished to print
these following pieces before the second edition of "Gulliver's
Travels," but he refused his permission, as not liking them
much. He mentions commendatory verses from a horse to
Gulliver, which do not appear.-See his letter to Swift, 8th
March, 1726.
Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care,
She wept, she blubber'd, and she tore her hair;
No British miss sincerer grief has known,
Her squirrel missing, or her sparrow flown.
She furl'd her sampler, and haul'd in her thread,
And stuck her needle into Grildrig's bed:
Then spread her hands, and with a bounce let fall
Her baby, like the giant in Guildhall.
In peals of thunder now she roars, and now,
She gently whimpers like a lowing cow:
Yet lovely in her sorrow still appears :
Her locks dishevell'd and her flood of tears
Seem like the lofty barn of some rich swain,
When from the thatch drips fast a show'r of rain.
In vain she search'd each cranny of the house,
Each gaping chink, impervious to a mouse.
"Was it for this," she cried, "with daily care
Within thy reach I set the vinegar,
792
LAMENTATION, &c.-MARY GULLIVER TO CAPT. GULLIVER.
And fill'd the cruet with the acid tide,
While pepper-water worms thy bait supplied;
Where twined the silver eel around thy hook,
And all the little monsters of the brook!
Sure in that lake he dropp'd; my Grilly's drown'd !”
She dragg'd the cruet, but no Grildrig found.
"Vain is thy courage, Grilly, vain thy boast!
But little creatures enterprise the most.
Trembling I've seen thee dare the kitten's paw,
Nay, mix with children, as they play'd at taw,
Nor fear the marbles as they bounding flew
Marbles to them, but rolling rocks to you!
“Why did I trust thee with that giddy youth
Who from a page can ever learn the truth?
Versed in court tricks, the money-loving boy
To some lord's daughter sold the living toy,
Or rent him limb from limb in cruel play,
As children tear the wings of flies away.
From place to place o'er Brobdingnag I'll roam,
Ah! never will return, or bring thee home.
But who hath eyes to trace the passing wind?
How then thy fairy footsteps can I find?
Dost thou bewilder'd wander all alone
In the green thicket of a mossy stone :
Or, tumbled from the toadstool's slipp'ry round,
Perhaps, all maim'd, lie grov'ling on the ground?
Dost thou, embosom'd in the lovely rose,
Or, sunk within the peach's down, repose?
Within the kingcup if thy limbs are spread,
Or in the golden cowslip's velvet head,
O show me, Flora, 'midst those sweets, the flow'r
Where sleeps my Grildrig in his fragrant bow'r!
"But ah! I fear thy little fancy roves
On little females and on little loves;
Thy pigmy children, and thy tiny spouse,
The baby playthings that adorn thy house,
Doors, windows, chimneys, and the spacious rooms
Equal in size to cells of honeycombs:
Hast thou for these now ventured from the shore,
Thy bark a bean-shell and a straw thine oar?
Or in thy box now bounding on the main,
Shall I ne'er bear thyself and house again
And shall I set thee on my hand no more,
To see thee leap the lines, and traverse o'er
My spacious palm; of stature scarce a span,
Mimic the actions of a real man?
No more behold thee turn my watch's key,
As seamen at a capstan anchors weigh?
How wert thou wont to walk with cautious tread,
A dish of tea, like milkpail, on thy head!
How chase the mite that bore thy cheese away,
And keep the rolling maggot at a bay!”
She said; but broken accents stopp'd her voice,
Soft as a speaking-trumpet's mellow noise:
She sobb'd a storm, and wiped her flowing eyes,
Which seem'd like two broad suns in misty skies.
O squander not thy grief! those tears command
To weep upon our cod in Newfoundland:
The plenteous pickle shall preserve the fish,
And Europe taste thy sorrows in a dish.
MARY GULLIVER TO CAPTAIN LEMUEL
GULLIVER.
ARGUMENT.
THE captain some time after his return being retired to Mr.
Sympson's in the country, Mrs. Gulliver, apprehending from
his late behavionr some estrangement of his affections, writes
him the following expostulating, soothing, and tenderly com-
plaining epistle.
WELCOME, thrice welcome to thy native place!
-What, touch me not? what, shun a wife's embrace?
Have I for this thy tedious absence borne,
And waked, and wish'd whole nights for thy return?
In five long years, I took no second spouse;
What Redriff wife so long hath kept her vows?
Your eyes, your nose, inconstancy betray;
Your nose you stop, your eyes you turn away.
'Tis said, that thou should'st "cleave unto thy wife;"
Once thou didst cleave, and I could cleave for life,
Hear, and relent! hark, how thy children moan!
Be kind at least to these; they are thy own:
Be bold, and count them all; secure to find
The honest number that you left behind.
See how they pat thee with their pretty paws:
Why start you? are they snakes? or have they claws?
Thy christian seed, our mutual flesh and bone:
Be kind at least to these; they are thy own.
a
Biddel, like thee, might farthest India rove;
He changed his country, but retain'd his love.
There's Captain Pennel,a absent half his life,
Comes back, and is the kinder to his wife;
Yet Pennel's wife is brown, compared to me;
And Mrs. Biddel sure is fifty-three.
Not touch me! never neighbour call'd me slut:
Was Flimnap's dame more sweet in Lilliput?
I've no red hair to breathe an odious fume;
At least thy consort's cleaner than thy groom.
Why then that dirty stable-boy thy care?
What mean those visits to the sorrel mare?
Say, by what witchcraft, or what demon led,
Preferr'st thou litter to the marriage-bed?
Some say, the devil himself is in that mare:
If so, our dean shall drive him forth by pray'r.
Some think you mad, some think you are posses'd,
That bedlam and clean straw will suit you best.
Vain means, alas, this frenzy to appease !
That straw, that straw, would heighten the disease.
My bed (the scene of all our former joys,
Witness two lovely girls, two lovely boys)
Alone I press in dreams I call my dear,
I stretch my hand; no Gulliver is there!
;
I wake, I rise, and shiv'ring with the frost,
Search all the house; my Gulliver is lost
Forth in the street I rush with frantic cries
The windows open, all the neighbours rise;
"Where sleeps my Gulliver? O tell me where ?"
The neighbours answer, "With the sorrel mare.”
At early morn I to the market haste
(Studious in everything to please thy taste);
A curious fowl and 'sparagus I chose
(For I remember you were fond of those);
Three shillings cost the, thefirst last seven groats;
Sullen you turn from both, and call for oats.
Others bring goods and treasure to their houses,
Something to deck their pretty babes and spouses:
My only token was a cup like horn,
That's made of nothing but a lady's corn.
'Tis not for that I grieve; no, 'tis to see
The groom and sorrel mare preferr'd to me!
These for some moments when you deign to quit,
And at due distance sweet discourse admit,
'Tis all my pleasure thy past toil to know;
For pleased remembrance builds delight on woe.
At every danger pants thy consort's breast,
And gaping infants squall to hear the rest.
How did I tremble, when by thousands bound,
I saw thee stretch'd on Lilliputian ground!
When scaling armies climb'd up every part,
Each step they trod I felt upon my heart.
But when thy torrent quench'd the dreadful blaze,
King, queen, and nation, staring with amaze,
Full in my view how all my husband came!
And what extinguish'd theirs, increased my flame
Those spectacles, ordain'd thine eyes to save,
Were once my present; love that armour gave.
a Names of the sea-captains mentioned in "Gulliver's Tra-
vels."
TO QUINBUS FLESTRIN-ECHO ON WOMAN-EPITAPH.
793
How did I mourn at Bolgolam's decree!
For when he sign'd thy death he sentenced me.
When folks might see thee all the country round
For sixpence, I'd have given a thousand pound.
Lord! when the giant babe that head of thine
Got in his mouth, my heart was up in mine!
When in the marrow-bone I saw thee ramm'd,
Or on the house-top by the monkey cramm'd,
The piteous images renew my pain.
And all thy dangers I weep o'er again.
But on the maiden's nipple when you rid,
Pray Heaven, 'twas all a wanton maiden did!
Glumdalelitch too!-with thee I mourn her case:
Heaven guard the gentle girl from all disgrace!
O may the king that one neglect forgive,
And pardon her the fault by which I live!
Was there no other way to set him free?
My life, alas! I fear proved death to thee.
O teach me, dear, new words to speak my flame!
Teach me to woo thee by the best loved name!
Whether the style of Grildrig please thee most,
So call'd on Brobdingnag's stupendous coast,
When on the monarch's ample hand you sate,
And halloed in his ear intrigues of state;
Or Quinbus Flestrin more endearment brings,
When like a mountain you look'd down on kings:
If ducal Nardac, Lilliputian peer,
Or Glumglum's humbler title soothe thine ear:
Nay, would kind Jove my organs so dispose,
To hymn harmonious Houyhnhnm through the nose,
I'd call thee Houyhnhnm, that high-sounding name;
Thy children's noses all should twang the same.
So might I find my loving spouse of course
Endued with all the virtues of a horse.
TO QUINBUS FLESTRIN, THE MAN-
MOUNTAIN.
A LILIPUTIAN ODE.
IN amaze
Lost I gaze!
Can our eyes
Reach thy size!
May my lays
Swell with praise,
Worthy thee!
Worthy me!
Muse, inspire
All thy fire!
Bards of old
Of him told,
When they said
Atlas' head,
Propp'd the skies:
See! and believe your eyes!
See him stride
Valleys wide,
Over woods,
Over floods!
When he treads,
Mountains' heads
Groan and shake:
Armies quake;
Lest his spurn
Man and steed:
Troops take heed!
Left and right,
Speed your flight!
Lest a host
Beneath his foot be lost!
Turn'd aside,
From his hide,
Safe from wound,
Darts rebound.
From his nose
Clouds he blows:
When he speaks
Thunder breaks!
When he eats
Famine threats!
When he drinks
Neptune shrinks!
Nigh thy ear,
In mid air,
On thy hand
Let me stand;
So shall I,
Lofty poet! touch the sky.
Overturn
A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN.
SHEPHERD.
IN THE DORIC MANNER.
ECHO, I ween, will in the woods reply,
And quaintly answer questions: shall I try?
SHEPHERD.
What must we do our passion to express P
ECHO. Try.
ECHO. Press.
SHEPHERD.
How shall I please her who ne'er loved before?
Ecuo. Before.
SHEPHERD.
What most moves women when we them address?
Eсно. A dress.
SHEPHERD.
Say, what can keep her chaste whom I adore ?
SHEPHERD.
Echo. A door.
If music softens rocks, love tunes my lyre.
SHEPHERD.
ECHO. Liar.
Then teach me, Echo, how I shall come by her?
ECHO. Buy her.
SHEPHERD.
When bought, no question, I shall be her dear?
ECHо. Her deer.
Shepherd.
But deer have horns: how must I keep her under?
Eсно. Keep her under.
SHEPHERD.
How shall I hold her, ne'er to part asunder?
ECHO. A-se under.
SHEPHERD.
But what can glad me, when she's laid on bier?
Shepherd.
ECHо. Beer.
What must I do, when woman will be kind?
SHEPHERD.
EcHо. Be kind.
What must I do, when woman will be cross?
Shepherd.
ECHо. Be cross.
ECHO. Wind.
Lord, what is she that can so turn and wind?
Shepherd.
If she be wind, what stills her when she blows?
Shepherd.
ECHO, Blows.
But, if she bang again, still should I bang her?
SHEPHERD.
ECHO. Bang her.
ECHO. Hang her.
Is there no way to moderate her anger?
SHEPHERD.
Thanks, gentle Echo! right thy answers tell
What woman is, and how to guard her well.
ECHO. Guard her well
EPITAPH.
HERE continueth to rot
The body of FRANCIS CHARTRES;
Who, with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY,
and INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of life,
PERSISTED,
In spite of AGE and INFIRMITIES,
In the practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE,
Excepting PRODIGALITY and HYPOCRISY :
His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the first;
His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second.
Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity
of his manners, than successful in accumulating
WEALTH:
For, without TRADE or PROFESSION,
Without TRUST of PUBLIC MONEY,
And without BRIBE-WORTHY SERVICE,
He acquired, or more properly created,
A MINISTERIAL ESTATE.
He was the only person of his time
Who could CHEAT without the mask of HONESTY;
Retain his primeval MEANNESS when possessed of
TEN THOUSAND A-YEAR
794
EPIGRAMS-&c.
And, having daily deserved the GIBBET for what
he did,
Was at last condemned to it for what he could
not do.
O indignant reader!
Think not his life useless to mankind!
PROVIDENCE Connived at his execrable designs,
To give to after ages conspicuous PROOF and
EXAMPLE
Of how small estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH
in the sight of
GOD,
By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY of
ALL MORTALS.
JOHANNES jacet hic Mirandula-cætera norunt
Et Tagus et Ganges-forsan et Antipodes.
APPLIED TO F. C.
HERE Francis Chartres liesa-be civil!
The rest God knows-perhaps the devil.
EPIGRAM.
PETER complains that God has given
To his poor babe a life so short:
Consider, Peter, he's in heaven:
'Tis good to have a friend at court.
ANOTHER.
You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come:
Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.
EPITAPH OF BY-WORDS.
HERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd
Every word she e'er heard in this church about God.
To convince her of God the good dean did endeavour;
But still in her heart she held Nature more clever.
Though he talk'd much of virtue, her head always run
Upon something or other she found better fun:
For the dame, by her skill in affairs astronomical,
Imagined to live in the clouds was but comical.
In this world she despised ev'ry soul she met here;
And now she's in t'other, she thinks it but queer.
EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH.
SIR, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool:
But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.
EPITAPH.
WELL then, poor G―― lies under ground
So there's an end of honest Jack.
So little justice here he found,
"Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.
EPIGRAM
ON THE TOASTS OF THE KITCAT CLUB.
ANNO 1716.
WHENCE deathless KITCAT took its name,
Few critics can unriddle:
Some say from PASTRYCOOK it came,
And some from CAT and FIDDLE.
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,
Grey statesmen, or green wits;
But from this pellmell pack of toasts
Of old CATS and young KITS.
TO A LADY,
WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME.
WHAT'S fame with men, by custom of the nation,
Is call'd in women only reputation :
About them both why keep we such a pother?
Part you with one, and I'll renounce the other.
Thus applied by Mr, Pope :-" Here lies lord Coningsby."
VERSES
To be placed under the picture of England's arch-poet [sir
Richard Blackmore], containing a complete catalogue of his
works,
SEE who ne'er was or will be half read!
Who first sung Arthur, then sung Alfred ;b
Praised great Eliza in God's anger,
Till all true Englishmen cried hang her!
Made William's virtues wipe the bare a-,
And hang'd up Marlborough in arras :d
Then, hiss'd from earth, grew heavenly quite:
Made every reader curse the light ;e
Maul'd human wit in one thick satire
Next in three books sunk Human Nature ;5
Undid Creation at a jerk;
h
And of Redemption¹ made damn'd work.
Then took his Muse at once, and dipp'd her
Full in the middle of the Scripture:
է
What wonders there the man grown old did !
Sternhold himself he out-Sternholded;
Made David seem so mad and freakish,
All thought him just what thought king Achish.
No mortal read his Solomon,'
m
But judged R'oboam his own son.
Moses he served as Moses Pharaoh,
And Deborah as she Siserah ;
Made Jeremy" full sore to cry,
0
And Job himself curse God and die.
What punishment all this must follow?
Shall Arthur use him like king Tollo?
Shall David as Uriah slay him?
Or dextrous Deb'rah Siserah him?
Or shall Eliza lay a plot
To treat him like her sister Scot?
Shall William dub his better end? P
Or Marlborough serve him like a friend?
No, none of these-Heaven spare his life!
But send him, honest Job, thy wife.
BOUNCE TO FOP.
AN EPISTLE FROM A DOG AT TWICKENHAM TO A
DOG AT COURT.
To thee, sweet Fop, these lines I send,
Who, though no spaniel, am a friend.
Though once my tail, in wanton play
Now frisking this and then that way,
Chanced with a touch of just the tip
To hurt your lady-lapdog-ship:
Yet thence to think I'd bite your head off!
Sure, Bounce is one you never read of.
Fop! you can dance, and make a leg,
Can fetch and carry, cringe and beg,
And (what's the top of all your tricks)
Can stoop to pick up strings and sticks.
We country dogs love nobler sport,
And scorn the pranks of dogs at court.
Fie, naughty Fop! where'er you come,
To fart and piss about the room.
To lay your head in ev'ry lap,
And, when they think not of you-snap!
Two heroic poems in folio, twenty books.
b An heroic poem, in twelve books.
• Au heroic poem in folio, ten books.
d Instructions to Vanderbank, a tapestry weaver.
• Hymn to the Light.
Satire against Wit.
Of the Nature of Man.
Creation, a poem in seven books.
i The Redeemer, anothor heroic poem, in six books.
* Translation of all the Psalms.
I Canticles and Ecclesiastes.
m Paraphrase of the Canticles of Moses and Deborah, &c.
n The Lamentations.
• The whole Book of Job, a poem, in folio.
P Kick him on the breech, not knight him on the shoulder.
BOUNCE TO FOP-&c.
795
The worst that envy or that spite
E'er said of me is, I can bite
That idle gipsies, rogues in rags,
Who poke at me, can make no brags;
And that, to touse such things as flutter,
To honest Bounce is bread and butter.
While you and ev'ry courtly fop
Fawn on the devil for a chop,
I've the humanity to hate
A butcher, though he brings me meat;
And, let me tell you, have a nose,
(Whatever stinking fops suppose,)
That under cloth of gold or tissue
Can smell a plaster or an issue.
Your pilf'ring lord, with simple pride,
May wear a picklock at his side;
My master wants no key of state,
For Bounce can keep his house and gate.
When all such dogs have had their days,
As knavish Pams, and fawning Trays;
When pamper'd Cupids, beastly Venis,
And motley, squinting Harlequinis,
Shall lick no more their ladies br-,
But die of looseness, claps, or itch;
Fair Thames, from either echoing shore,
Shall hear and dread my manly roar.
See Bounce, like Berecynthia crown'd
With thund'ring offspring all around;
Beneath, beside me, and at top,
A hundred sons, and not one fop!
Before my children set your beef,
Not one true Bounce will be a thief!
Not one without permission feed
(Though some of J-n's hungry breed);
But, whatsoe'er the father's race,
From me they suck a little grace:
While your fine whelps learn all to steal,
Bred up by hand on chick and veal.
My eldest born resides not far,
Where shines great Strafford's glittering star:
My second (child of fortune!) waits
At Burlington's Palladian gates:
A third majestically stalks
(Happiest of dogs!) in Cobham's walks:
One ushers friends to Bathurst's door;
One fawns at Oxford's on the poor.
Nobles, whom arms or arts adorn,
Wait for my infants yet unborn.
None but a peer of wit and grace
Can hope a puppy of my race.
And, O would fate the bliss decree
To mine (a bliss too great for me!)
That two my tallest sons might grace,
Attending each with stately pace,
Iulus' side, as erst Evander's,
To keep off flatterers, spies, and panders,
To let no noble slave come near,
And scare lord Fannys from his ear,
Then might a royal youth, and true,
Enjoy at least a friend-or two;
A treasure which, of royal kind,
Few but himself deserve to find.
Then Bounce ('tis all that Bounce can crave)
Shall wag her tail within the grave.
And though no doctors, Whig or Tory ones,
Except the sect of Pythagoreans,
Have immortality assign'd
To any beast but Dryden's hind :a
Yet master Pope, whom Truth and Sense
Shall call their friend some ages hence,
Though now no loftier themes he sings,
Than to bestow a word on kings,
■" A milk-white hind, immortal and unchanged."
Hind and Panther, ver. 1.
Has sworn by Styx, the poet's oath,
And dread of dogs and poets both,
Man and his works he'll soon renounce,
And roar in numbers worthy Bounce.
ON THE COUNTESS OF BURLINGTON
CUTTING PAPER.
PALLAS grew vap'rish once and odd;
She would not do the least right thing
Either for goddess or for god,
Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing.
Jove frown'd, and "Use (he cried) those eyes
So skilful, and those hands so taper;
Do something exquisite and wise—”
She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper.
This vexing him who gave her birth,
Thought by all Heaven a burning shame;
What does she next, but bids, on earth,
Her Burlington do just the same.
Pallas, you give yourself strange airs;
But sure you'll find it hard to spoil
The sense and taste of one that bears
The name of Saville and of Boyle.
Alas! one bad example shown,
How quickly all the sex pursue!
See, madam, see the arts o'erthrown
Between John Overton and you!
ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT.
I KNOW the thing that's most uncommon,
(Envy, be silent and attend!)
I know a reasonable woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a friend.
Not warp'd by passion, awed by rumour,
Not grave through pride, or gay through folly;
An equal mixture of good humour,
And sensible, soft melancholy.
“Has she no faults then (Envy says), sir ?"
Yes, she has one, I must aver:
When all the world conspires to praise her,
The woman's deaf, and does not hear.
MISCELLANIES IN PROSE.
BY MR. POPE, DR. ARBUTHNOT,
MR. GAY, &c. &c.
COLLECTED BY DR. SWIFT AND MR. POPE.
PREFACE.
1727.
Twickenham, May 27, 1727.
THE papers that compose the first of these volumes
were printed about sixteen years ago, to which there
are now added two or three small tracts; and the
verses are transferred into a volume apart, with the
addition of such others as we since have written.
The second (and perhaps a third) will consist of
several small treatises in prose, in which a friend or
two is concerned with us.
Having both of us been extremely ill-treated by
some booksellers (especially one Edmund Curl), it
was our opinion that the best method we could take
for justifying ourselves would be to publish what-
ever loose papers in prose and verse we have for-
merly written; not only such as have already stolen
into the world (very much to our regret, and perhaps
very little to our credit), but such as in any proba-
bility hereafter may run the same fate; having been
796
PREFACE.
obtained from us by the importunity, and divulged
by the indiscretion of friends, although restrained
by promises which few of them are ever known to
observe, and often think they make us a compliment
in breaking.
But the consequences have been still worse: we
have been entitled, and have had our names prefixed
at length to whole volumes of mean productions,
equally offensive to good manners and good sense,
which we never saw nor heard of till they appeared
in print.
For a forgery in setting a false name to a writing
which may prejudice another's fortune, the law pu-
nishes the offender with the loss of his ears; but has
inflicted no adequate penalty for such as prejudice
another's reputation in doing the same thing in
print; though all and every individual book so sold
under a false name are manifestly so many several
and multiplied forgeries.
Indeed we hoped that the good nature, or at least
the good judgment, of the world would have cleared
us from the imputation of such things as had been
thus charged upon us by the malice of enemies, the
want of judgment of friends, the unconcern of indif-
ferent persons, and the confident assertions of book-
sellers.
We are ashamed to find so ill a taste prevail as to
make it a necessary work to do this justice to our-
selves. It is very possible for any author to write
below himself; either his subject not proving so
fruitful or fitted for him as he at first imagined; or
his health, his humour, or the present disposition of
his mind unqualifying him at that juncture how-
ever, if he possessed any distinguishing marks of
style or peculiarity of thinking, there would remain
in his least successful writings some few tokens
whereby persons of taste might discover him.
But since it hath otherwise fallen out, we think
we have sufficiently paid for our want of prudence,
and determine for the future to be less communica-
tive
or rather, having done with such amusements,
we are resolved to give up what we cannot fairly
disown, to the severity of critics, the malice of per-
sonal enemies, and the indulgence of friends.
It is a very
We are sorry for the satire interspersed in some
of these pieces upon a few people from whom the
highest provocations have been received, and who by
their conduct since have shown that they have not
yet forgiven us the wrong they did.
unlucky circumstance to be obliged to retaliate the
injuries of such authors, whose works are so soon
forgotten that we are in danger already of appearing
the first aggressors. It is to be lamented that Virgil
let pass a line which told posterity he had two ene-
mies called Bavius and Mævius. The wisest way is
not once to name them, but (as the madman advised
the gentleman who told him he wore a sword to kill
his enemies) to let them alone and they will die of
themselves. And according to this rule we have
acted throughout all those writings which we de-
signed for the press: but in these, the publication
whereof was not owing to our folly but that of
others, the omission of the names was not in our
power. At the worst, we can only give them that
liberty now for something, which they have so many
years exercised for nothing, of railing and scribbling
against us. And it is some commendation that we
have not done it all this while, but avoided publicly
to characterise any person without long experience.
Nonum prematur in annum is a good rule for all
writers of characters, because it may happen to
those who vent praise or censure too precipitately,
as it did to an eminent English poet, who celebrated
a young nobleman for erecting Dryden's monument
upon a promise which his lordship forgot till it was
done by another.
In regard to two persons only we wish our rail-
lery, though ever so tender, or resentment, though
ever so just, had not been indulged. We speak of
sir John Vanbrugh, who was a man of wit and of
honour; and of Mr. Addison, whose name deserves
all respect from every lover of learning.
We cannot deny (and perhaps most writers of our
kind have been in the same circumstances) that in
several parts of our lives, and according to the dis-
positions we were in, we have written some things
which we may wish never to have thought on.
Some sallies of levity ought to be imputed to youth,
(supposed in charity, as it was in truth, to be the
time in which we wrote them ;) others to the gaiety
of our minds at certain junctures common to all
men. The publishing of these, which we cannot
disown, and without our consent, is I think a greater
injury than that of ascribing to us the most stupid
productions which we can wholly deny.
This has been usually practised in other countries
after a man's decease, which in a great measure
accounts for that manifest inequality found in the
works of the best authors; the collectors only con-
sidering that so many more sheets raise the price of
the book; and the greatest fame a writer is in pos-
session of, the more of such trash he may bear to
have tacked to him. Thus it is apparently the edi-
tor's interest to insert what the author's judgment
had rejected; and care is always taken to intersperse
these additions in such a manner, that scarce any
book of consequence can be bought without pur-
chasing something unworthy of the author along
with it.
But in our own country it is still worse: those
very booksellers who have supported themselves
upon an author's fame while he lived have done
their utmost after his death to lessen it by such
practices; even a man's last will is not secure from
being exposed in print; whereby his most particular
regards, and even his dying tendernesses, are laid
open. It has been humorously said that some
have fished the very jakes for papers left there by
men of wit: but it is no jest to affirm that the cabi-
nets of the sick and the closets of the dead have
been broke open and ransacked to publish our pri-
vate letters, and divulge to all mankind the most
secret sentiments and intercourse of friendship. Nay,
these fellows are arrived to that height of impudence,
that, when the author has publicly disowned a spu-
rious piece, they have disputed his own name with
him in printed advertisements; which has been
practised to Mr. Congreve and Mr. Prior.
We are therefore compelled, in respect to truth,
to submit to a very great hardship; to own such
pieces as in our stricter judgments we would have sup-
pressed for ever: we are obliged to confess that this
whole collection, in a manner, consists of what we
not only thought unlikely to reach the future, but
unworthy even of the present age; not our studies,
but our follies; not our works, but our idlenesses.
Some comfort, however, it is, that all of them are
innocent, and most of them, slight as they are, had
yet a moral tendency; either to soften the virulence
of parties against each other; or to laugh out of
countenance some vice or folly of the time; or to
discredit the impositions of quacks and false pre-
tenders to science; or to humble the arrogance of
the ill-natured and envious; in a word to lessen the
vanity and promote the good humour of mankind.
Such as they are, we must in truth confess they
are ours, and others should in justice believe they
are all that are ours. If anything else has been
1
ON THE ART OF SINKING IN POETRY.
797
printed in which we really had any hand, it is either
intolerably imperfect, or loaded with spurious addi-
tions;
sometimes even with insertions of men's
names which we never meant, and for whom we
have an esteem and respect. Even those pieces in
which we are least injured have never before been
printed from the true copies, or with any tolerable
degree of correctness. We declare that this col-
lection contains every piece which in the idlest hu-
mour we have written; not only such as came under
our review or correction, but many others which,
however unfinished, are not now in our power to
suppress. Whatsoever was in our own possession
at the publishing hereof, or of which no copy was
gone abroad, we have actually destroyed, to prevent
all possibility of the like treatment.
The
credit them; they concluded, therefore, the force of ridicule
was wanting to quicken their disgrace; and ridicule was here in
its place, when the abuses had been already detected by sober
reasoning, and truth in no danger to suffer by the premature
use of so powerful an instrument. But the separation of our
author and his friends, which soon after happened, with the
death of one and the infirmities of the other, put a final period
to their design, when they had only drawn out an imperfect
essay towards it, under the title of The First Book of the
Memoirs of Scriblerus.'
"Moral satire never lost more than in the defeat of this project,
in the execution of which each of this illustrious triumvirate
would have found exercise for his own peculiar talent, besides
constant employment for those they all had in common.
Dr.
Arbuthnot was skilled in everything which related to science;
Mr. Pope was a master in the fine arts; and Dr. Swift excelled
in the knowledge of the world. Wit they all had in equal mea-
sure, and in a measure so large that no age perhaps ever pro-
duced three men to whom nature had more bountifully be-
stowed it, or in whom art had brought it to higher perfection."
-BP. WARBURTON.
"The Memoirs of Scriblerus' extend only to the first book
of a work projected in concert by Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot,
who used to meet in the time of queen Anne, and denominated
themselves the Scriblerus Club. Their purpose was to censure
the abuses of learning by a fictitious life of an infatuated
scholar. They were dispersed; the design was never com-
pleted; and Warburton laments its miscarriage as an event very
disastrous to polite letters. If the whole may be estimated by
this specimen, which seems to be the production of Arbuthnot,
with a few touches perhaps by Pope, the want of more will not
be much lamented; for the follies which the writer ridicules
are so little practised that they are not known; nor can the
satire be understood but by the learned; he raises phantoms of
These volumes likewise will contain all the papers
wherein we have casually had any share; particu-
larly those written in conjunction with our friends
Dr. Arbuthnot and Mr. Gay; and lastly, all this
sort composed singly by either of those hands.
reader is therefore desired to do the same justice to
these our friends as to us; and to be assured that
all the things called our Miscellanies (except the
works of Alexander Pope, published by B. Lintot,
in quarto and folio, in 1717; those of Mr. Gay, by
J. Tonson, in quarto, in 1720; and as many of
these Miscellanies as have been formerly printed by absurdity, and then drives them away; he cures diseases that
Benjamin Tooke) are absolutely spurious, and with-
out our consent imposed upon the public.
JONATHAN SWIFT.
ALEXANDER Pope.
ADVERTISEMENT TO A FOURTH VOLUME.—1729.
Or the following volume we need only say that it
contains the remainder of those miscellaneous
pieces which were in some sort promised in the
preface to the former volumes, or which have been
written since. The verses are paged separately, that
they may be added to that volume which wholly
consists of verse, and the "Treatise of the Bathos"
placed in their stead in this. The reader
The reader may be as-
sured no other edition is either genuine or complete,
and that they are all the things of this kind which
will ever be printed by the same hands. There are
in this volume, as in the former, one or two small
pieces by other hands.
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIFTH AND SIXTH
VOLUMES.-1736.
As most of this author's writings have been al-
ready published in "The Drapier's Letters,” “Gul-
liver's Travels," and the four volumes of "Miscel-
lanies," printed for Messieurs Motte and Gulliver,
it would have been injurious to the English buyer,
as well as proprietor, to have reprinted here the
Dublin edition of his works. We are therefore only
to assure both that these two volumes consist of such
pieces as are NOT in the forementioned volumes,
but, excepting three Tatlers, contain everything in
the Dublin edition besides.
MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS
ΠΕΡΙ ΒΑΘΟΥΣ;
OR, THE ART OF SINKING IN POETRY.
As the best perhaps of all advertisements we give the following
opinions by some of the great critics who followed the distin-
guished author :-
"Mr. Pope, Dr. Arbuthnot, and Dr. Swift, in conjunction,
formed the project of a satire on the abuses of human learning;
and, to make it the better received, proposed to execute it in
the manner of Cervantes (the original author of this species of
satire), under a continued narrative of feigned adventures.
They had observed that those abuses still kept their ground
against all that the ablest and gravest authors could say to dis-
"
·
<
&
were never felt. For this reason this joint production of three
great writers has never obtained any notice from mankind; it
has been little read, or when read it has been forgotten, as no
man could be wiser, better, or merrier by remembering it.
The design cannot boast of much originality; for, besides its
general resemblance to Don Quixote,' there will be found in
it particular imitations of the History of Mr. Ouffle.' Swift
carried so much of it into Ireland as supplied him with hints
for his travels; and with these the world might have been con-
tented, though the rest had been suppressed."-Dr. JOHNSON.
The life of the solemn and absurd pedant, Dr. Scribierus,
of which Johnson speaks too contemptuously, and says it is
taken from the History of Ouffle,' is the only true and genuine
imitation we have in our language of the serious and pompous
manner of Cervantes; for it is not easy to say why Fielding
should call his Joseph Andrews,' excellent as it is, an imi-
tation of his manner. Don Quixote' is in truth the most
original and unrivalled work of modern times. The great art
of Cervantes consists in having painted his mad hero with such
a number of amiable qualities as to make it impossible for us
totally to despise him. This light and shade in drawing cha-
racters show the master. It is thus Addison has represented his
How great must be
sir Roger, and Shakspeare his Falstaff.
the native force of Cervantes' humour, when it can be relished
by readers even unacquainted with Spanish manners, with the
institution of chivalry, and with the many passages of old ro-
mances and Italian poems to which it perpetually alludes!
There are three or four celebrated works that bear a great re-
semblance, and have a turn of satire similar to that of these
Memoirs: The Barbon' of Balsac; The Life of Montmaur,’
by Menage and others; the Chef d'Oeuvre d'un Inconnu' of
Mathanase; and La Charlataneric des Savans' of Menken.
"Whatever may be determined of other parts of these Me-
moirs,' yet the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, tenth, and twelfth
chapters appear to be the production of Arbuthnot, as they
contain allusions to many remote and uncommon parts of learn-
ing and science with which we cannot imagine Pope to have
been much acquainted, and which lay out of the reach and
course of his reading. The rich vein of humour which, like a
vein of mercury, runs through these Memoirs,' is much height-
ened and increased by the great variety of learning which they
contain. It is a fact in literary history worth observing, aud
which deserves to be more attended to than I think it usually
is, that the chief of those who have excelled in exquisite works
of art and humour have at the same time been men of exten-
sive learning. We may instance in Lucian, Cervantes, Quevedo,
Rabelais, Arbuthnot, Fielding, and Butler above all; for no
work in our language contains more learning than ‘Hudibras.'
-DR. WARTON.
C
(
'
INTRODUCTION.
4
In the reign of queen Anne (which, notwitnstanding
those happy times which succeeded, every English-
man may remember) thou mayest possibly, gentle
reader, have seen a certain venerable person who fre-
quented the outside of the palace of St. James's, and
who, by the gravity of his deportment and habit,
98
MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS
was generally taken for a decayed gentleman of Spain.
His stature was tall, his visage long, his complexion
olive, his brows were black and even, his eye hollow
yet piercing, his nose inclined to aquiline, his beard
neglected and mixed with grey all this contributed
to spread a solemn melancholy over his countenance.
Pythagoras was not more silent, Pyrrho more mo-
tionless, nor Zeno more austere. His wig was black
and smooth as the plumes of a raven, and hung as
straight as the hair of a river-god rising from the
water. His cloak so completely covered his whole
person, and whether or no he had any other clothes
(much less any linen) under it, I shall not say; but
his sword appeared a full yard behind him, and his
manner of wearing it was so stiff that it seemed
grown to his thigh. His whole figure was so utterly
unlike anything of this world, that it was not natural
for any man to ask him a question without blessing
himself first. Those who never saw a Jesuit took
him for one, and others believed him some high
priest of the Jews.
But under this macerated form was concealed a
mind replete with science, burning with a zeal of
benefiting his fellow-creatures, and filled with an
honest conscious pride, mixed with a scorn of doing
or suffering the least thing beneath the dignity of a
philosopher. Acccordingly he had a soul that would
not let him accept of any offers of charity, at the
same time that his body seemed but too much to
require it. His lodging was in a small chamber up
four pair of stairs, where he regularly paid for what
he had when he eat or drank; and he was often
observed wholly to abstain from both. He declined
speaking to any one, except the queen or her first
minister, to whom he attempted to make some appli-
cations; but his real business or intentions were
utterly unknown to all men. Thus much is certain,
that he was obnoxious to the queen's ministry; who,
either out of jealousy or envy, had him spirited away,
and carried abroad as a dangerous person, without
any regard to the known laws of the kingdom.
One day, as this gentleman was walking about
dinner-time alone in the Mall, it happened that a
manuscript dropped from under his cloak, which my
servant picked up and brought to me. It was writ-
ten in the Latin tongue, and contained many most
profound secrets, in an unusual turn of reasoning
and style. The first leaf was inscribed with these
words: Codicillus, seu Liber Memorialis, Martini
Scribleri. The book was of so wonderful a nature,
that it is incredible what a desire I conceived that
moment to be acquainted with the author, who I
clearly conceived was some great philosopher in dis-
guise. I several times endeavoured to speak to him,
which he as often industriously avoided. At length
At length
I found an opportunity (as he stood under the piazza
by the dancing-room in St. James's) to acquaint him,
in the Latin tongue, that his manuscript was fallen
into my hands; and saying this, I presented it to
him, with great encomiums on the learned author.
Hereupon he took me aside, surveyed me over with
fixed attention, and opening the clasps of the parch-
ment cover, spoke (to my great surprise) in English
as follows:—
"Courteous stranger, whoever thou art, I embrace
thee as my best friend; for either the stars and my
art are deceitful, or the destined time is come which
is to manifest MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS to the world,
and thou the person chosen by fate for this task.
What thou seest in me is a body exhausted by the
labours of the mind. I have found in dame nature,
not indeed an unkind but a very coy mistress; watch-
ful nights, anxious days, slender meals, and endless
labours, must be the lot of all who pursue her through
her labyrinths and meanders. My first vital air I
drew in his island (a soil fruitful of philosophers);
but my complexion is become adust, and my body
arid, by visiting lands (as the poet has it) alio sub
sole calentes. I have, through my whole life, passed
under several disguises and unknown names, to
screen myself from the envy and malice which man-
kind express against those who are possessed of the
arcanum magnum. But at present I am forced to
take sanctuary in the British court, to avoid the re-
venge of a cruel Spaniard who has pursued me al-
most through the whole terraqueous globe. Being
about four years ago in the city of Madrid, in quest
of natural knowledge, I was informed of a lady who
was marked with a pomegranate upon the inside of
her right thigh, which blossomed, and, as it were,
seemed to ripen in the due season. Forthwith was
I possessed with an insatiable curiosity to view this
wonderful phenomenon. I felt the ardour of my
passion increase as the season advanced, till, in the
month of July, I could no longer contain. I bribed
her duenna, was admitted to the bath, saw her un-
dressed, and the wonder displayed. This was soon
after discovered by the husband, who, finding some
letters I had written to the duenna, containing ex-
pressions of a doubtful meaning, suspected me of a
crime most alien from the purity of my thoughts.
Incontinently I left Madrid by the advice of friends,
have been pursued, dogged, and waylaid, through
several nations, and even now scarce think myself
secure within the sacred walls of this palace. It has
been my good fortune to have seen all the grand
phenomena of nature, excepting an earthquake, which
I waited for in Naples three years in vain; and now,
by means of some British ship (whose colours no
Spaniard dare approach), I impatiently expect a safe
passage to Jamaica for that benefit. To thee, my
friend, whom fate has marked for my historiogra-
pher, I leave these my Commentaries, and others of
my works. No more-be faithful and impartial."
He soon after performed his promise, and left me
the Commentaries, giving me also further lights by
many conferences; when he was unfortunately
snatched away (as I before related) by the jealousy
of the queen's ministry.
He sent me
Though I was thus, to my eternal grief, deprived of
his conversation, he has for some years continued his
correspondence, and communicated to me many of
his projects for the benefit of mankind.
some of his writings, and recommended to my care.
the recovery of others straggling about the world,
and assumed by other men. The last time I heard
from him was on occasion of his strictures on the
Dunciad; since when, several years being elapsed, I
have reason to believe this excellent person is either
dead, or carried by his vehement thirst of knowledge
into some remote or perhaps undiscovered region of
the world. In either case, I think it a debt no longer
to be delayed to reveal what I know of this prodigy
of science, and to give the history of his life and of
his extensive merits to mankind; in which I dare
promise the reader that, whenever he begins to think
any one chapter dull, the style will be immediately
changed in the next.
MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS ΠΕΡΙ ΒΑΘΟΥΣ.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
Ir hath been long (my dear countrymen) the subject
of my concern and surprise that, whereas number-
less poets, critics, and orators, have compiled and
digested the art of ancient poesy, there hath not risen
among us one person so public-spirited as to perform
the like for the modern; although it is universally
known that our everyway industrious moderns, both
ON THE ART OF SINKING IN POETRY.
799
in the weight of their writings and in the velocity | error, as will be amply proved in the following dis-
of their judgments, do so infinitely excel the said
ancients.
Nevertheless, too true it is, that, while a plain and
direct road is paved to their os, or sublime, no
track has been yet chalked out to arrive at our fatos
or profund. The Latins, as they came between the
Greeks and us, make use of the word altitudo, which
implies equally height and depth. Wherefore con-
sidering, with no small grief, how many promising
geniuses of this age are wandering (as I may say)
in the dark without a guide, I have undertaken this
arduous but necessary task, to lead them as it were
by the hand, and step by step, the gentle down-hill
way to the bathos; the bottom, the end, the central
point, the non plus ultra of true modern poesy! When
you consider (my dear countrymen) the extent, ferti-
lity, and populousness of our lowlands of Parnassus,
the flourishing state of our trade, and the plenty of
our manufacture, there are two reflections which
administer great occasion of surprise: the one, that
all dignities and honours should be bestowed upon
the exceeding few meagre inhabitants of the top of
the mountain; the other, that our own nation should
have arrived to that pitch of greatness it now pos-
sesses, without any regular system of laws. As to the
first, it is with great pleasure I have observed of late
the gradual decay of delicacy and refinement among
mankind, who are become too reasonable to require
that we should labour with infinite pains to come up
to the taste of these mountaineers, when they with-
out any may condescend to ours. But as we have
now an unquestionable majority on our side, I doubt
not but we shall shortly be able to level the high-
landers, and procure a further vent for our own pro-
duct, which is already so much relished, encouraged,
and rewarded by the nobility and gentry of Great
Britain.
Therefore, to supply our former defect, I purpose
to collect the scattered rules of our art into regular
institutes, from the example and practice of the deep
geniuses of our nation; imitating herein my prede-
cessors, the master of Alexander, and the secretary
of the renowned Zenobia: and in this my under-
taking I am the more animated, as I expect more
success than has attended even those great critics;
since their laws, though they might be good, have
ever been slackly executed; and their precepts, how-
ever strict, obeyed only by fits and by a very small
number.
At the same time I intend to do justice upon our
neighbours, inhabitants of the upper Parnassus, who,
taking advantage of the rising ground, are perpetu-
ally throwing down rubbish, dirt, and stones upon
us, never suffering us to live in peace.
These men,
while they enjoy the crystal stream of Helicon, envy
us our common water, which (thank our stars), though
it is somewhat muddy, flows in much greater abun-
dance. Nor is this the greatest injustice that we have
to complain of; for though it is evident that we ne-
ver made the least attempt or inroad into their terri-
tories, but lived contented in our native fens, they
have often not only committed petty larcenies upon
our borders, but driven the country, and carried off
at once whole cart-loads of our manufacture; to re-
claim some of which stolen goods is part of the de-
sign of this treatise.
For we shall see, in the course of this work, that
our greatest adversaries have sometimes descended
towards us; and doubtless might now and then have
arrived at the bathos itself, had it not been for that
mistaken opinion they all entertained, that the rules
of the ancients were equally necessary to the mo-
derns; than which there cannot be a more grievous
course.
And indeed, when any of these have gone so far as
by the light of their own genius to attempt new mo-
dels, it is wonderful to observe how nearly they have
approached us in those particular pieces; though in
their others they differed toto cælo from us.
CHAPTER II.
THAT THE BATHOS, OR PROFUND, IS THE NATURAL TASTE
OF MAN, AND IN PARTICULAR OF THE PRESENT AGE.
THE taste of the bathos is implanted by nature it-
self in the soul of man; till, perverted by custom or
example, he is taught, or rather compelled, to relish
the sublime. Accordingly, we see the unprejudiced
minds of children delight only in such productions
and in such images as our true modern writers set
before them. I have observed how fast the general
taste is returning to this first simplicity and inno-
cence; and if the intent of all poetry be to divert and
instruct, certainly that kind which diverts and in-
structs the greatest number is to be preferred. Let
us look round among the admirers of poetry; we
shall find those who have a taste of the sublime to
be very few; but the profund strikes universally,
and is adapted to every capacity. It is a fruitless un-
dertaking to write for men of a nice and foppish
gusto, whom after all it is almost impossible to please;
and it is still more chimerical to write for posterity,
of whose taste we cannot make any judgment, and
whose applause we can never enjoy. It must be con-
fessed our wise authors have a present end,
Et prodesse volunt, et delectare poeta.
Their true design is profit or gain; in order to ac-
quire which it is necessary to procure applause by
administering pleasure to the reader: from whence
be suited to the present taste. And I cannot but con-
it follows demonstrably that their productions must
gratulate our age on this peculiar felicity, that, though
branches of luxury, we are not yet debauched with
we have made indeed great progress in all other
any high relish in poetry, but are in this one taste.
less nice than our ancestors. If an art is to be esti-
mated by its success, I appeal to experience whether
there have not been, in proportion to their number,
as many starving good poets as bad ones?
Nevertheless, in making gain the principal end of
our art, far be it from me to exclude any great ge-
niuses of rank or fortune from diverting themselves
this way. They ought to be praised no less than those
princes who pass their vacant hours in some ingeni-
ous mechanical or manual art. And to such as these
it would be ingratitude not to own that our art has
been often infinitely indebted.
CHAPTER III.
THE NECESSITY OF THE BATHOS, PHYSICALLY CON-
SIDERED.
FURTHERMORE, it were great cruelty and injustice
if all such authors as cannot write in the other way
were prohibited from writing at all. Against this I
draw an argument from what seems to me an un-
doubted physical maxim; that poetry is a natural or
morbid secretion from the brain. As I would not
suddenly stop a cold in the head, or dry up my neigh-
bour's issue, I would as little hinder him from neces-
sary writing. It may be affirmed with great truth
that there is hardly any human creature, past child-
hood, but at one time or other has had some poetical
evacuation, and, no question, was much the better for
it in his health; so true is the saying, nascimur poetæ.
Therefore is the desire of writing properly termed
800
MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS
pruritus, the "titillation of the generative faculty of
the brain,” and the person is said to conceive; now,
such as conceive must bring forth. I have known a
man thoughtful, melancholy, and raving, for divers
days, who forthwith grew wonderfully easy, lightsome,
and cheerful, upon a discharge of the peccant humour
in exceeding purulent metre. Nor can I question
but abundance of untimely deaths are occasioned for
want of this laudable vent of unruly passions: yea,
perhaps, in poor wretches (which is very lamentable)
for mere want of pen, ink, and paper! From hence
it follows that a suppression of the very worst poetry
is of dangerous consequence to the state. We find
by experience that the same humours which vent
themselves in summer in ballads and sonnets are
condensed by the winter's cold into pamphlets and
speeches for and against the ministry: nay, I know
not but many times a piece of poetry may be the
most innocent composition of a minister himself.
It is therefore manifest that mediocrity ought to
be allowed, yea indulged, to the good subjects of
England. Nor can I conceive how the world has
swallowed the contrary as a maxim upon the single
authority of Horace. Why should the golden mean
and quintessence of all virtues be deemed so offen-
sive in this art? or coolness or mediocrity be so ami-
able a quality in a man, and so detestable in a poet?
However, far be it from me to compare these writ-
ers with those great spirits who are born with a vi-
vacité de pesanteur, or (as an English author calls it)
an "alacrity of sinking;" and who by strength of
"band who by strength of
nature alone can excel. All I mean is, to evince the
necessity of rules to these lesser geniuses, as well as
the usefulness of them to the greater.
CHAPTER IV.
THAT THERE IS AN ART OF THE BATHOS, OR PROFUND.
WE Come now to prove that there is an art of sink-
ing in poetry. Is there not an architecture of vaults
and cellars, as well as of lofty domes and pyramids?
Is there not as much skill and labour in making
ditches as in raising mounts? Is there not an art
of diving as well as of flying? and will any sober
practitioner affirm that a diving-engine is not of
singular use in making him long-winded, assisting
his descent, and furnishing him with more ingenious
means of keeping under water?
If we search the authors of antiquity we shall find
as few to have been distinguished in the true profund
as in the true sublime. And the very same thing (as
it appears from Longinus) had been imagined of that,
as now of this, namely, that it was entirely the gift
of nature. I grant that to excel in the bathos a genius
is requisite; yet the rules of art must be allowed so
far useful as to add weight, or, as I may say, hang
on lead, to facilitate and enforce our descent, to guide
us to the most advantageous declivities, and habituate
our imagination to a depth of thinking. Many there
are that can fall, but few can arrive at the felicity of
falling gracefully; much more for a man who is
among the lowest of the creation, at the very bottom
of the atmosphere, to descend beneath himself, is not
so easy a task, unless he calls in art to his assistance.
It is with the bathos as with small beer, which is in-
deed vapid and insipid if left at large and let abroad;
but being by our rules confined and well stopped, no-
thing grows so frothy, pert, and bouncing.
C
The sublime of nature is the sky, the sun, moon,
Mediocribus esse poctis
Non dii, non homines, &c.-POPE.
1
b Spoken by Falstaff of himself in Shakspeare's
Wives of Windsor."
Merry
• The same simile is repeated in the "Dunciad.”—Dr, Warton.
stars, &c. The profund of nature is gold, pearls,
precious stones, and the treasures of the deep, which
are inestimable as unknown. But all that lies be-
tween these, as corn, flowers, fruits, animals, and
things for the mere use of man, are of mean price,
and so common as not to be greatly esteemed by the
curious; it being certain that anything of which we
know the true use cannot be invaluable: which af-
fords a solution why common sense hath either been
totally despised or held in small repute by the greatest
modern critics and authors.
CHAPTER V.
OF THE TRUE GENIUS FOR THE PROFUND, AND BY
WHAT IT IS CONSTITUTED.
AND I will venture to lay it down as the first maxim
and corner-stone of this our art, that whoever would
excel therein must studiously avoid, detest, and turn
his head from all the ideas, ways, and workings of
that pestilent foe to wit, and destroyer of fine figures,
which is known by the name of common sense. His
business must be to contract the true goût de travers;
and to acquire a most happy, uncommon, unaccount-
able way of thinking.
He is to consider himself as a grotesque painter,
whose works would be spoiled by an imitation of
nature or uniformity of design. He is to mingle bits
of the most various or discordant kinds, landscape,
history, portraits, animals, and connect them with a
great deal of flourishing, by head or tail, as it shall
please his imagination, and contribute to his prin-
cipal end, which is to glare by strong oppositions of
colours, and surprise by a contrariety of images.
Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni.-HOR.
His design ought to be like a labyrinth, out of
which nobody can get clear but himself. And since
the great art of poetry is to mix truth with fiction,
author shall produce the credible by painting nature
in order to join the credible with the surprising, our
in her lowest simplicity, and the surprising by con-
tradicting common opinion. In the very same man-
ner he will affect the marvellous; he will draw
Achilles with the patience of Job; a prince talking
like a jack-pudding; a maid of honour selling bar-
gains; a footman speaking like a philosopher; and
a fine gentleman like a scholar. Whoever is con-
collection of this kind, and at the same time form a
versant in modern plays may make a most noble
complete body of modern ethics and morality.
than that the world hath long been weary of natural
Nothing seemed more plain to our great authors
things. How much the contrary are formed to please
is evident from the universal applause daily given to
the admirable entertainments of harlequins and ma-
gicians on our stage. When an audience behold a
coach turned into a wheelbarrow, a conjurer into an
old woman, or a man's head where his heels should
be, how are they struck with transport and delight!
which can only be imputed to this cause, that each
object is changed into that which hath been suggested
to them by their own low ideas before.
He ought therefore to render himself master of
this happy and anti-natural way of thinking to such
a degree as to be able, on the appearance of any ob-
ject, to furnish his imagination with ideas infinitely
below it. And his eyes should be like unto the
wrong end of a perspective glass, by which all the
objects of nature are lessened.
For example; when a true genius looks upon the
sky, he immediately catches the idea of a piece of
blue lutestring, or a child's mantle :-
HIS ANNUS MIRABILIS.
817
necessary toward performing this great operation,
both sexes will be thrown into a profuse involuntary
laughter. Then, to use the modest term of Anaxi-
mander, "shall negative quantity be turned into
positive," &c. Time never beheld, nor will it ever
assemble, such a number of untouched virgins with-
in those walls; but, alas! such will be the impati-
ence and curiosity of people to act in their new
capacity, that many of them will be completed men
and women that very night. To prevent the dis-
orders that may happen upon this occasion is the
chief design of this paper.
Gentlemen have begun already to make use of
this conjunction to compass their filthy purposes.
They tell the ladies, forsooth, that it is only parting
with a perishable commodity, hardly of so much
value as a calico under-petticoat; since, like its mis-
tress, it will be useless in the form it is now in. If
the ladies have no regard to the dishonour and im-
morality of the action, I desire they will consider
that Nature, who never destroys her own productions,
will exempt big-bellied women till the time of their
lying-in; so that not to be transformed will be the
same as to be pregnant. If they do not think it
worth while to defend a fortress that is to be demo-
lished in a few days, let them reflect that it will be a
melancholy thing nine months hence to be brought
to bed of a bastard-a posthumous bastard as it
were to which the quondam father can be no more
than a dry-nurse.
This wonderful transformation is the instrument
of nature to balance matters between the sexes. The
cruelty of scornful mistresses shall be returned; the
slighted maid shall grow into an imperious gallant,
and reward her undoer with a big belly and a
bastard.
It is hardly possible to imagine the revolutions
that this wonderful phenomenon will occasion over
the face of the earth. I long impatiently to see the
proceedings of the parliament of Paris, as to the title
of succession to the crown; this being a case not
provided for by the Salique law. There will be no
preventing disorders among friars and monks; for
certainly vows of chastity do not bind, but under the
sex in which they were made. The same will hold
good with marriages, though I think it will be a scan-
dal among protestants for husbands and wives to
part, since there remains still a possibility to perform
the debitum conjugale, by the husband being femme
couverte. I submit it to the judgment of the gentle-
men of the long robe whether the transformation
does not discharge all suits of rapes.
The pope must undergo a new groping: but the
false prophet Mahomet has contrived matters well
for his successors; for as the grand signior has now
a great many fine women, he will then have as many
fine young gentlemen at his devotion.
These are surprising scenes; but I beg leave to
affirm that the solemn operations of nature are sub-
jects of contemplation not of ridicule. Therefore I
make it my earnest request to the merry fellows and
giggling girls about town that they would not put
themselves in a high twitter when they go to visit a
general lying-in of his first child; his officers serving
as midwives, nurses, and rockers, dispensing caudle;
or if they behold the reverend prelates dressing the
heads and airing the linen at court, I beg they will
remember that these offices must be filled with peo-
ple of the greatest regularity and best characters. For
the same reason I am sorry that a certain prelate |
[Dr. Atterbury], who, notwithstanding his confine-
ment [in Dec. 1722], still preserves his healthy cheer-
ful countenance, cannot come in time to be a nurse
at court.
VOL. I.
I likewise earnestly entreat the maids of honour,
(then ensigns and captains of the guards,) that at
their first setting out they have some regard to their
former station; and do not run wild through all the
infamous houses about town: that the present
grooms of the bedchamber (then maids of honour)
would not eat chalk and lime in their green-sick-
ness: and, in general, that the men would remember
they are become retromingent, and not by inadvert-
ency lift up against walls and posts.
Petticoats will not be burdensome to the clergy;
but balls and assemblies will be indecent for some
time.
As for you, coquettes, bawds, and chambermaids,
(the future ministers, plenipotentiaries, and cabinet-
counsellors to the princes of the earth,) manage the
great intrigues that will be committed to your charge
with your usual secrecy and conduct; and the affairs
of your masters will go better than ever.
ye exchange-women! [shopkeepers of Exeter
'Change] (our right worshipful representatives that
are to be,) be not so griping in the sale of your ware
as your predecessors, but consider that the nation,
like a spendthrift heir, has run out: be likewise a
little more continent in your tongues than you are at
present, else the length of debates will spoil your
dinners.
You housewifely good women, who now preside
over the confectionary, (henceforth commissioners of
the treasury,) be so good as to dispense the sugar-
plums of the government with a more impartial and
frugal hand.
Ye prudes and censorious old maids, (the hopes of
the bench,) exert but your usual talents of finding
faults, and the laws will be strictly executed; only
would not have you proceed upon such slender evi-
dences as you have done hitherto.
It is from you, eloquent oyster-merchants of Bil-
lingsgate, (just ready to be called to the bar, and
coifed like your sister-serjeants,) that we expect the
shortening the time and lessening the expenses of
lawsuits; for I think you are observed to bring your
debates to a short issue; and even custom will restrain
you from taking the oyster and leaving only the
shell to your client.
O ye physicians! who in the figure of old women
are to clean the tripe in the markets, scour it as ef-
fectually as you have done that of your patients, and
the town will fare most deliciously on Saturdays.
I cannot but congratulate human nature upon this
happy transformation: the only expedient left to re-
store the liberties and tranquillity of mankind. This
is so evident that it is almost an affront to common
sense to insist upon the proof: if there can be any
such stupid creature as to doubt it, I desire he will
make but the following obvious reflection. There are
in Europe alone, at present, about a million of sturdy
fellows, under the denomination of standing-forces,
with arms in their hands: that those are masters of
the lives, liberties, and fortunes of all the rest, I he¬
lieve nobody will deny. It is no less true in fact
that reams of paper, and above a square mile of skins
of vellum, have been employed to no purpose to set-
tle peace among those sons of violence. Pray who
is he that will say unto them, "go and disband your-
selves"? but lo! by this transformation it is done at
once, and the halcyon days of public tranquillity re-
turn: for neither the military temper nor discipline
can taint the soft sex for a whole age to come: bella-
que matribus invisa, wars odious to mothers, will not
grow immediately palatable in their paternal estate.
Nor will the influence of this transformation be
less in family tranquillity than it is in national.
Great faults will be amended; and frailties for-
3 G
נ'
818
A KEY TO THE LOCK.
given on both sides. A wife, who has been disturbed
with late hours, and choked with the haut goût of a
sot, will remember her sufferings, and avoid the
temptations; and will for the same reasons indulge
her mate, in his family capacity, in some passions
which she is sensible from experience are natural to
the sex; such as vanity, fine clothes, being admired,
&c. And how tenderly must she use her mate un-
der the breeding-qualms and labour-pains which she
hath felt herself? In short, all unreasonable demands
upon her husband must cease, because they are al-
ready satisfied, from natural experience, that they
are impossible.
That the ladies may govern the affairs of the
world, and the gentlemen those of their household,
better than either of them have hitherto done, is the
hearty desire of
Their most sincere well-wisher,
A KEY TO THE LOCK;
M. S.
OR, A TREATISE, PROVING BEYOND ALL CONTRA-
DICTION THE DANGEROUS TENDENCY OF A LATE
POEM, ENTITLED
THE RAPE OF THE LOCK,
TO GOVERNMENT AND RELIGION.
Written in 1714.
SINCE this unhappy division of our nation into par-
ties, it is not to be imagined how many artifices have
been made use of by writers to obscure the truth
and cover designs which may be detrimental to the
public. In particular, it has been their custom of
late to vent their political spleen in allegory and
fable. If an honest believing nation is to be made a
jest of, we have a story of "John Bull and his wife:"
if a treasurer is to be glanced at, an ant with a white
straw is introduced; if a treaty of commerce is to be
ridiculed, it is immediately metamorphosed into a
tale of "Count Tariff.”
But if any of these malevolents have a small talent
in rhyme, they principally delight to convey their
malice in that pleasing way; as it were gilding the
pill, and concealing the poison under the sweetness
of numbers.
It is the duty of every well-designing subject to
prevent, as far as he can, the ill consequences of such
pernicious treatises; and I hold it mine to warn the
public of a late poem, entitled "The Rape of the
Lock," which I shall demonstrate to be of this na-
ture.
It is a common and just observation, that, when
the meaning of anything is dubious, one can noway
better judge of the true intent of it than by consi-
dering who is the author, what is his character in
general, and his disposition in particular.
Now that the author of this poem is a reputed pa-
pist is well known; and that a genius so capable of
doing service to that cause may have been corrupted
in the course of his education by jesuits or others is
justly very much to be suspected; notwithstanding
that seeming coolness and moderation which he has
been (perhaps artfully) reproached with by those of
his own persuasion. They are sensible that this na-
tion is secured by good and wholesome laws to pre-
vent all evil practices of the church of Rome; parti-
cularly the publication of books that
may in any sort
propagate that doctrine: their authors are therefore
obliged to conch their designs the deeper; and
though I cannot aver the intention of this gentleman
was directly to spread popish doctrines, yet it comes
to the same point if he touch the government: for
the court of Rome knows very well that the church
at this time is so firmly founded on the state that
the only way to shake the one
the only way to shake the one is by attacking the
other.
What confirms me in this opinion is an acci-
dental discovery I made of a very artful piece of
management among his popish friends and abettors,
to hide his whole design upon the government by
taking all the characters upon themselves.
Upon the day that this poem was published it
was my fortune to step into the Cocoa-tree, where a
certain gentleman was railing very liberally at the
author, with a passion extremely well counterfeited,
for having (as he said) reflected upon him in the
character of sir Plume. Upon his going out I in-
quired who he was, and they told me he was a
Roman catholic knight.
I was the same evening at Will's, and saw a circle
round another gentleman, who was railing in like
manner, and showing his snuff-box and cane, to
prove he was satirized in the same character. I
asked this gentleman's name, and was told he was a
Roman catholic lord.
A day or two after I happened to be in company
with the young lady to whom the poem is dedicated.
She also took up the character of Belinda with much
frankness and good humour, though the author has
given us a hint, in his dedication,ª that he meant
something farther. This lady is also a Roman ca-
tholic. At the same time, others of the characters
were claimed by some persons in the room; and all
of them Roman Catholics.
But to proceed to the work itself.
In all things which are intricate, as allegories in
their own nature are, and especially those that are
industriously made so, it is not to be expected we
should find the clew at first sight: but when once
we have laid hold on that, we shall trace this our
author through all the labyrinths, doublings, and
turnings of his intricate composition.
First, then, let it be observed that in the most
demonstrative sciences some postulata are to be
granted, upon which the rest is naturally founded.
The only postulatum or concession which I desire
to be made me is, that by THE LOCK is meant
THE BARRIER TREATY.b
I. First, then, I shall discover that Belinda repre-
sents Great Britain, or (which is the same thing) her
late majesty. This is plainly seen in his description
of her :-
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore ;
alluding to the ancient name of Albion, from her
white cliffs, and to the cross, which is the ensign of
England.
II. The baron, who cuts off the lock, or barrier
treaty, is the E. of Oxford.
III. Clarissa, who lent the scissors, my lady Ma-
sham.
IV. Thalestris, who provokes Belinda to resent
the loss of the lock, or treaty, the duchess of Marl-
borough.
V. Sir Plume, who is moved by Thalestris to re-
demand it of great Britain, prince Eugene, who came
hither for that purpose.
There are some other inferior characters, which we
shall observe upon afterward: but I shall first ex-
plain the foregoing.
"The character of Belinda (as it is here managed) resem-
bles you in nothing but beauty. "Dedication to the "Rape of
the Lock."
b For a full account of the political transactions relating to
this treaty, see "The Conduct of the Allies," and "Remarks
on the Barrier Treaty."
A KEY TO THE LOCK.
819
The first part of the baron's character is his being
adventurous or enterprising, which is the common
epithet given to the earl of Oxford by his enemies.
The prize he aspires to is the treasury, in order to
which he offers a sacrifice:
-an altar built
Of twelve vast French romances neatly gilt.
Our author here takes occasion maliciously to in-
sinuate this statesman's love to France; representing
the books he chiefly studies to be vast French ro-
mances: these are the vast prospects from the friend-
ship and alliance of France, which he satirically calls
romances; hinting thereby that these promises and
protestations were no more to be relied on than those
idle legends. Of these he is said to build an altar;
to intimate that the foundation of his schemes and
honours was fixed upon the French romances above
mentioned.
A fau, a garter, half a pair of gloves.
One of the things he sacrifices is a fan; which,
both for its gaudy show and perpetual fluttering, has
been held the emblem of woman: this points at the
change of the ladies of the bedchamber.
The garter
alludes to the honours he conferred on some of his
friends; and we may, without straining the sense,
call the half-pair of gloves a gauntlet, the token of
those military employments which he is said to have
sacrificed to his designs. The prize, as I said before,
means the treasury, which he makes his prayers soon
to obtain, and long to possess:—
The pow'rs gave car, and granted half his pray'r,
The rest the winds dispersed in empty air.
In the first of these lines he gives him the treasury,
and in the last suggests that he should not long
possess that honour.
That Thalestris is the duchess of Marlborough
appears both by her nearness to Belinda and by this
author's malevolent suggestion that she is a lover of
war:
To arms, to arms, the bold Thalestris cries:
but more particularly by several passages in her
speech to Belinda upon the cutting off the lock or
treaty. Among other things she says, "Was it for
this you bound your locks in paper durance?" Was
it for this so much paper has been spent to secure
the barrier treaty?
Methinks, already I your tears survey;
Already hear the horrid things they say,
Already see you a degraded toast.
This describes the aspersions under which that
good princess suffered, and the repentance which
must have followed the dissolution of that treaty;
and particularly levels at the refusal some people
made to drink her majesty's health.
Sir Plume (a proper name for a soldier) has all the
circumstances that agree with prince Eugene :—
Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain,
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane,
With earnest eyes-
'Tis remarkable this general is a great taker of
snuff, as well as towns; his conduct of the clouded
cane gives him the honour which is so justly his due
of an exact conduct in battle, which is figured by his
cane or truncheon, the ensign of a general. His
"earnest eye," or the vivacity of his look, is so par-
ticularly remarkable in him, that this character could
be mistaken for no other, had not the author pur-
posely obscured it by the fictitious circumstance of a
"round unthinking face."
Having now explained the chief characters of his
human persons, (for there are some others that will
hereafter fall in by the by, in the sequel of this dis-
course,) I shall next take in pieces his machinery,
wherein the satire is wholly confined to ministers of
state.
The sylphs and gnomes at first sight appeared to
me to signify the two contending parties of this na-
tion; for, these being placed in the air, and those on
the earth, I thought agreed very well with the com-
mon denomination, high and low. But as they are
male to be the first movers and influencers of all
that happens, it is plain they represent promiscuously
the heads of parties; whom he makes to be the
authors of all those changes in the state which are
generally imputed to the levity and instability of the
British nation :-
This erring mortals levity may call :
Oh, blind to truth the sylphs contrive it all.
But of this he has given us a plain demonstration ;
for, speaking of these spirits, he says, in express
terms,-
-The chief the care of nations own,
And guard, with arms divine, the British throne.
And here let it not seem odd if, in this mysterious
way of writing, we find the same person who has
before been represented by the baron, again described
in the character of Ariel; it being a common way
with authors, in the fabulous manner, to take such a
liberty. As for instance, I have read in St. Evre-
mond that all the different characters in Petronius
are but Nero in so many different appearances. And
in the key to the curious romance of Barclay's Arge-
nis, both Poliarchus and Archombrotus mean only
the king of Navarre.
We observe, in the very beginning of the poem,
that Ariel is possessed of the ear of Belinda; there-
fore it is absolutely necessary that this person must
be the minister who was nearest the queen. But who-
ever would be further convinced that he meant the
treasurer may know him by his ensigns in the fol-
lowing line :-
:-
He raised his azure wand.
pre-
His sitting on the mast of a vessel shows his
siding over the South Sea trade. When Ariel as-
signs to his sylphs all the posts about Belinda, what
is more clearly described than the treasurer's dis-
posing of all the places in the kingdom, and par-
ticularly about her majesty? But let us hear the
lines:-
Ye spirits, to your charge repair,
The fluttering fan be Zephyretta's care;
The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign,
And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine ;
Do thou, Crispissa, tend her fav'rite lock.
He has here particularized the ladies and women of
the bedchamber, the keeper of the cabinet, and her
majesty's dresser, and impudently given nicknames
to each. To put this matter beyond all dispute, the
sylphs are said to be wondrous fond of place, in the
canto following, where Ariel is perched uppermost,
and all the rest take their places subordinately under
him.
Here again I cannot but observe the excessive
malignity of this author, who could not leave the
character of Ariel without the same invidious stroke
which he gave him in the character of the baron
before :-
Amazed, confused, he saw his power expired,
Resign'd to fate, and with a sigh retired :
Being another prophecy that he should resign his
place, which it is probable all ministers do, with a
sigh.
At the head of the gnomes he se's Umbriel, a
dusky, melancholy spirit, who makes it his business
to give Belinda the spleen; a vile and malicious sug-
gestion against some grave and worthy minister. The
vapours, phantoms, visions, and the like, are the jea-
lousies, fears, and cries of danger, that have so often
3 G 2
820
A KEY TO THE LOCK.
affrighted and alarmed the nation. Those who are
described, in the house of spleen, under those seve-
ral fantastical forms, are the same whom their ill-
willers have so often called the whimsical.
And that the author here had an eye to our mo
dern transactions is very plain, from an unguarded
stroke toward the end of this game:
And now, as oft in some distemper'd state,
On one nice trick depends the gen'ral fate.
After the conclusion of the war, the public rejoic-
ings and thanksgivings are ridiculed in the two foi-
The two foregoing spirits being the only consider-
able characters of the machinery, I shall but just men-
tion the sylph, that is wounded with the scissars at
the loss of the lock; by whom is undoubtedly under-lowing lines :—--
stood my lord Townshend, who at that time received
a wound in his character for making the barrier-
treaty, and was cut out of his employment upon the
dissolution of it: but that spirit reunites, and re-
ceives no harm: to signify that it came to nothing
and his lordship had no real hurt by it.
But I must not conclude this head of the charac-
ters without observing that our author has run
through every stage of beings in search of topics for
detraction. As he has characterized some persons
under angels and men, so he has others under ani-
mals and things inanimate : he has even represented
an eminent clergyman as a dog and a noted writer
as a tool. Let us examine the former :-
-But Shock, who thought she slept too long,
Leapt up and waked his mistress with his tongue.
'Twas then, Belinda, if report say true,
Thy eyes first open'd on a billet-doux.
By this Shock, it is manifest he has most audaciously
and profanely reflected on Dr. Sacheverell, who
leaped up, that is, into the pulpit, and awakened
Great Britain with his tongue, that is, with his ser-
mon, which made so much noise, and for which he
has been frequently termed by others of his enemies,
as well as by this author, a dog. Or, perhaps, by
his tongue may be more literally meant his speech
at his trial, since immediately thereupon our author
says, her eyes opened on a billet-doux. Billets-
doux, being addresses to ladies from lovers, may be
aptly interpreted those addresses of loving subjects
to her majesty which ensued that trial.
The other instance is at the end of the third
canto :-
Steel did the labours of the gods destroy,
And strike to dust the imperial tow'rs of Troy
Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
And hew triumphal arches to the ground.
Here he most impudently attributes the demolition
of Dunkirk, not to the pleasure of her majesty, or of
her ministry, but to the frequent instigations of his
friend Mr. Steele. A very artful pun, to conceal his
wicked lampoonry!
Having now considered the general intent and
scope of the poem, and opened the characters, I shall
next discover the malice which is covered under the
episodes, and particular passages of it.
The game at ombre is a mystical representation of
the late war, which is hinted by his making spades
the trump; spade in Spanish signifying a sword, and
being yet so painted in the cards of that nation, to
which it is well known we owe the original of our
cards. In this one place indeed he has unawares paid
a compliment to the queen, and her success in the
war; for Belinda gets the better of the two that
play against her, viz. the kings of France and
Spain.
I do not question but every particular card has its
person and character assigned, which, no doubt, the
author has told his friends in private; but I shall
only instance in the description of the disgrace under
which the duke of Marlborough then suffered, which
is so apparent in these verses :—
Even mighty Pam, that kings and queens o'erthrew,
And mow'd down armies in the fights of loo,
Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid,
Fulls undistinguish'd-
The nymph, exulting, fills with shouts the sky,
The walls, the woods, and long canals reply.
Immediately upon which there follows a malicious
insinuation in the manner of a prophecy (which we
have formerly observed this seditious writer delights
in), that the peace should continue but a short time,
and that the day should afterward be cursed which
was then celebrated with so much joy:-
Sudden these honours shall be snatch'd away,
And cursed for ever this victorious day.
As the game at ombre is a satirical representation
of the late war, so is the tea-table that ensues of the
council-table and its consultations after the peace.
By this he would hint that all the advantages we
have gained by our late extended commerce are only
coffee and tea, or things of no greater value. That
he thought of the trade in this place appears by the
passage which represents the sylphs particularly care-
complaint of our mercers that French brocades were
ful of the rich brocade; it having been a frequent
imported in great quantities. I will not say he
means those presents of rich gold stuff suits which
France, though I cannot but suspect that he glances
were said to be made her majesty by the king of
at it.
Here this author (as well as the scandalous John
Dunton) represents the ministry, in plain terms,
taking frequent cups-
And frequent cups prolong the rich repast;
for it is manifest he meant something more than
common coffee, by calling it
Coffee that makes the politician wise;
and by telling us it was this coffee that
Sent up
in vapours to the baron's brain
New stratagems.
I shall only further observe that it was at this table
the lock was cut off; for where but at the council-
board should the barrier treaty be dissolved?
The ensuing contentions of the parties upon the
loss of that treaty are described in the squabbles fol-
lowing the rape of the lock; and this he rashly ex-
presses without any disguise,
All side in parties--
and here you have a gentleman who sinks beside the
chair, a plain allusion to a noble lord who lost his
chair of president of the council.
I come next to the bodkin, so dreadful in the hand
of Belinda; by which he intimates the British sceptre,
so revered in the hand of our late august princess.
His own note upon this place tells us he alludes to
a sceptre; and the verses are so plain they need no
remark :—
The same (his ancient personage to deck)
Her great-great-grandsire wore about his neck
In three seal-rings, which, after melted down,
Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown;
Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew;
Then in a bodkin graced her mother's hairs,
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.
An open satire upon hereditary right! The three
seal-rings plainly allude to the three kingdoms.
These are the chief passages in the battle, by
which, as hath before been said, he means the
squabble of parties. Upon this occasion he could
not end the description without testifying his ma-
lignant joy at those dissensions from which he forms
A KEY TO THE LOCK.
821
the prospect that both should be disappointed, and
cries out with triumph, as if it were already accom-
plished,
Behold how oft ambitious aims are cross'd,
And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost.
The lock at length is turned into a star, or the old
barrier treaty into a new and glorious peace. This,
no doubt, is what the author, at the time he printed
this poem, would have been thought to mean; in
hopes by that compliment to escape the punishment
for the rest of this piece. It put me in mind of a
fellow who concluded a bitter lampoon upon the
prince and court of his days with these lines:-
God save the king, the commons, and the peers,
And grant the author long may wear his ears.
Whatever this author may think of that peace, I
imagine it the most extraordinary star that ever ap-
peared in our hemisphere. A star that is to bring
us all the wealth and gold of the Indies; and from
whose influence not Mr. John Partridge alone,
(whose worthy labours this writer so ungenerously
ridicules,) but all true Britons, may, with no less au-
thority than he prognosticate the fall of Lewis in the
restraint of the exorbitant power of France, and the
fate of Rome in the triumphant condition of the
church of England.
We have now considered this poem in its political
view, wherein we have shown that it has two dif-
ferent walks of satire, the one in the story itself,
which is a ridicule on the late transactions in gene-
ral; the other in the machinery, which is a satire on
the ministers of state in particular. I shall now show
that the same poem, taken in another light, has a
tendency to popery, which is secretly insinuated
through the whole.
In the first place, he has conveyed to us the doc-
trine of guardian angels and patron saints in the
machinery of his sylphs, which, being a piece of po-
pish superstition that has been exploded ever since
the Reformation, he would revive under this dis-
guise. Here are all the particulars which they be-
lieve of those beings, which I shall sum up in a few
heads.
1st, The spirits are made to concern themselves
with all human actions in general.
2ndly, A distinct guardian spirit or patron is as-
signed to each person in particular :-
Of these am I, who thy protection claim,
A watchful sprite.
8thly, They are made protectors even to animal
and irrational beings :-
Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock.
So St. Anthony presides over hogs, &c.
9thly, They are made patrons of whole kingdoms
and provinces :—
Of these the chief the care of nations own.
So St. George is imagined by the papists to defend
England; St. Patrick, Ireland; St. James, Spain,
&c. Now what is the consequence of all this? By
granting that they have this power we must be
brought back again to pray to them.
The toilette is an artful recommendation of the
mass and pompous ceremonies of the church of
Rome. The unveiling of the altar, the silver vases
upon it; being robed in white, as the priests are upon
the chief festivals; and the head uncovered, are
manifest marks of this :-
A heavenly image in the glass appears,
To that she bends
plainly denotes image worship.
The goddess who is decked with treasures, jewels,
and the various offerings of the world, manifestly
alludes to the lady of Loretto. You have perfumes
breathing from the incense-pot in the following
line:-
And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.
The character of Belinda, as we take it in this
third view, represents the popish religion or the
whore of Babylon, who is described in the state this
malevolent author wishes for, coming forth in all her
glory upon the Thames, and overspreading the whole
nation with ceremonies:-
Not with more glories in th' ethereal plain
The sun first rises o'er the purple main,
Than issuing forth the rival of his beams
Launch'd on the bosom of the silver Thames.
She is dressed with a cross on her breast, the en-
sign of popery, the adoration of which is plainly re-
commended in the following lines:-
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
Next he represents her as the universal church
according to the boasts of the papists:
And like the sun she shines on all alike.
After which he tells us,
If to her share some female errors fall,
Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.
3rdly, They are made directly to inspire dreams, Though it should be granted some errors fall to her
visions, and revelations :-
Her guardian sylph prolong'd her balmy rest,
"Twas he had summon'd to her silent bed
The morning dream.
4thly, They are made to be subordinate to dif-
ferent degrees, some presiding over others. So Ariel
has his several under-officers at command:-
Superior by the head was Ariel placed.
share, look on the pompous figure she makes through-
out the world, and they are not worth regarding.
In the sacrifice following you have these two lines:-
For this, ere Phoebus rose, he had implored
Propitious Heaven and ev'ry power adored.
In the first of them he plainly hints at their rising
to matins; in the second, by adoring every power,
the invocation of saints.
Belinda's visits are described with numerous wax-
5thly, They are employed in various offices, and lights, which are always used in the ceremonial part
each has his office assigned him :-
Some in the fields of purest ether play,
And bask and whiten in the blaze of day;
Some guide the course, &c.
6thly, He hath given his spirits the charge of the
several parts of dress; intimating thereby that the
saints preside over the several parts of human bodies.
They have one saint to cure the toothache, another
the gripes, another the gout, and so of the rest :-
The fluttering fan be Zephyretta's care,
The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign, &c.
of the Romish worship:
--Visits shall be paid on solemn days,
When num'rous wax-lights in bright order blaze.
The lunar sphere he mentions opens to us their
purgatory, which is seen in the following line:-
Since all things lost on earth are treasured there.
It is a popish doctrine that scarce any person quits
this world but he must touch at purgatory in his way
to heaven; and it is here also represented as the
treasury of the Romish church. Nor is it much to
7thly, They are represented to know the thoughts be wondered at that the moon should be purgatory
of men :-
As on the nosegay in her breast reclined,
He watch'd the ideas rising in her mind.
when a learned divine [Dr. Swinden] hath, in a late
treatise, proved the sun to be hell.
I shall now, before I conclude, desire the reader
822
MEMOIRS OF P. P.,
to compare this key with those upon any other pieces,
which are supposed to have been secret satires upon
the state, either ancient or modern, in particular
with the keys to Petronius Arbiter, Lucian's "True
History," Barclay's "Argenis," and Rabelais's "Ga-
ragantua,” and I doubt not he will do me the justice
to acknowledge that the explanations here laid down
are deduced as naturally, and with as little violence,
both from the general scope and bent of the work,
and from the several particulars; furthermore, that
they are every way as consistent and undeniable,
every way as candid, as any modern interpretations
of either party on the conduct and writings of the
other. And I appeal to the most eminent and able
state decipherers themselves, if, according to their
art,
anything can be more fully proved or more safely
sworn to?
To sum up my whole charge against this author
in a few words, he has ridiculed both the present
ministry and the last; abused great statesmen and
great generals; nay, the treaties of whole nations
have not escaped him, nor has the royal dignity
itself been omitted in the progress of his satire, and
all this he has done just at the meeting of a new par-
liament. I hope a proper authority may be made
use of to bring him to condign punishment. In the
mean while I doubt not, if the persons most concerned
would but order Mr. Bernard Lintot, the printer and
publisher of this dangerous piece, to be taken into
custody and examined, many further discoveries
might be made both of this poet's and his abettors'
secret designs, which are doubtless of the utmost im-
portance to the government.
MEMOIRS OF P. P.,
CLERK OF THIS PARISII.
ADVERTISEMENT.
THE original of the following extraordinary treatise
consisted of two large volumes in folio; which mighs
justly be entitled "The Importance of a Man to
Himself;" but, as it can be of very little use to any-
body besides, I have contented myself to give only
It was impossible but that such a history as Burnet's, which
these Memoirs are intended to ridicule, relating recent events
so near the time of their transaction, should be variously re-
presented by the violent parties that have agitated and dis-
graced this country; though these parties arise from the very
nature of our free government. Accordingly this prelate's
"History of his Own Time" was as much vilified and depreciated
by the Tories as praised and magnified by the Whigs. As he
reinted the actions of a persecutor and a benefactor, he was
accused of partiality, injustice, malignity, flattery, and false-
hood. Bevil Higgins, and lord Lansdown and others, wrote
remarks on him; as did the great lord Peterborough, whose
animadversious, as his amanuensis, a Mr. Holloway, assured me,
were very severe; they were never published. As Burnet was
much trusted and consulted by king William, and had a great
share in bringing about the Revolution, his narrations, it must
be owned, have a strong tincture of self-importance and egotism.
These two qualities are chiefly exposed in these Memoirs.
Ilume and Dalrymple have taken occasion to censure him.
After all, he was a man of great abilities, of much openness
and frankness of nature, of much courtesy and benevolence,
indefatigable in his studies and in performing constantly the
duties of his station. His character is finely drawn by the
marquis of Halifax; one paragraph of which is too remarkable
to be omitted: " IIis indifference for preferment; his contempt
not only of splendour, but of all unnecessary plenty; his de-
grading himself to the lowest and most painful duties of his
calling; are such unprelatical qualities, that, let him be never
so orthodox in other things, in these he must be a dissenter."
Few persons or prelates would have had the boldness and
honesty to write such a remonstrance to Charles II. on his dis-
solute life and manners as did Burnet in the year 1680. We
may easily guess what the sycophants of that profligato court.
and their profligate master, said and thought of the picty and
freedom of this letter. -Dr. WARTON.
this short abstract of it, as a taste of the true spirit
of memoir-writers.
IN
In the name of the Lord. Amen. I, P. P., by the
grace of God clerk of this parish, writeth this his-
tory.
Ever since I arrived at the age of discretion I had
a call to take upon me the function of a parish clerk :
and to that end it seemed unto me meet and profit-
able to associate myself with the parish-clerks of this
land; such I mean as were right worthy in their
calling, men of a clear and sweet voice, and of becom-
ing gravity.
Now it came to pass that I was born in the year
of our Lord anno Domini 1665, the year wherein our
worthy benefactor, esquire Brett, did add one bell
to the ring of this parish. So that it hath been
wittily said "that one and the same day did give
to this our church two rare gifts-its great bell and
its clerk."
Even when I was at school my mistress did ever
extol me above the rest of the youth in that I had
a laudable voice. And it was furthermore observed
that I took a kindly affection unto that black letter
in which our bibles are printed. Yea, often did I
exercise myself in singing godly ballads, such as,
"The Lady and Death," "The Children in the
Wood," and "
Wood," and "Chevy-chace ;'
Chevy-chace;" and not like other
children, in lewd and trivial ditties. Moreover,
while I was a boy I always ventured to lead the
psalm next after master William Harris, my prede-
cessor, who (it must be confessed to the glory of
God) was, a most excent parish-clerk in that his
day.
Yet, be it acknowledged that at the age of six-
teen I became a company-keeper, being led into idle
conversation by my extraordinary love to ringing;
insomuch that in a short time I was acquainted
with every set of bells in the whole country: neither
could I be prevailed upon to absent myself from
wakes, being called thereunto by the harmony of the
steeple. While I was in these societies I gave my-
self up to unspiritual pastimes, such as wrestling,
dancing, and cudgel-playing; so that I often return-
ed to my father's house with a broken pate. I had
my
head broken at Milton by Thomas Wyat, as we
played a bout or two for a hat that was edged with
silver galloon; but in the year following I broke the
head of Henry Stubbs, and obtained a hat not infe-
rior to the former. At Yelverton I encountered
George Cummins, weaver, and behold my head was
broken a second time! At the wake of Waybrook
I engaged William Simkins, tanner, when lo, thus
was my head broken a third time, and much blood
trickled therefrom. But I administered to my com-
fort, saying within myself, "What man is there,
howsoever dexterous in any craft, who is for aye on
his guard?" A week after, I had a base-born child
laid unto me; for in the days of my youth I was
looked upon as a follower of venereal fantasies; thus
was I led into sin by the comeliness of Susanna
Smith, who first tempted me and then put me to
shame; for indeed she was a maiden of a seducing
I humbled myself before
eye and pleasant feature.
the justice, I acknowledged my crime to our curate,
and to do away mine offences and make her some
atonement, was joined to her in holy wedlock on the
sabbath-day following.
How often do those things which seem unto us
misfortunes redound to our advantage! for the mi-
nister (who had long looked on Susanna as the most
lovely of his parishioners) liked so well of my de-
meanour that he recommended me to the honour of
being his clerk, which was then become vacant by
the decease of good master William Harris.
CLERK OF THIS PARISH.
823
[Here ends the first chapter; after which follow
fifty or sixty pages of his amours in general, and
that particular one with Susanna his present wife;
but I proceed to chapter the ninth.]
No sooner was I elected into mine office but I laid
aside the powdered gallantries of my youth, and be-
came a new man. I considered myself as in some
wise of ecclesiastical dignity, since by wearing a band,
which is no small part of the ornament of our clergy,
I might not unworthily be deemed, as it were, a
shred of the linen vestment of Aaron.
Thou mayest conceive, O reader, with what con-
cern I perceived the eyes of the congregation fixed
upon me when first I took my place at the feet of
the priest. When I raised the psalm, how did my
voice quaver for fear; and when I arrayed the shoul-
ders of the minister with the surplice, how did my
joints tremble under me! I said within myself, "Re-
member, Paul, thou standest before men of high
worship, the wise Mr. justice Freeman, the grave
Mr. justice Thomson, the good lady Jones, and the
two virtuous gentlewomen her daughters; nay, the
great sir Thomas Truby, knight and baronet, and my
young master the esquire, who shall one day be lord
of this manor." Notwithstanding which, it was my
good hap to acquit myself to the good liking of the
whole congregation; but the Lord forbid I should
glory therein.
[The next chapter contains an account how he dis-
charged the several duties of his office; in particular
he insists on the following:]
I was determined to reform the manifold corrup-
tions and abuses which had crept into the church.
First, I was especially severe in whipping forth
dogs from the temple, excepting the lap-dog of the
good widow Howard, a sober dog, which yelped not,
nor was there offence in his mouth.
Secondly, I did even proceed to moroseness,
though sore against my heart, unto poor babes, in
tearing from them the half-eaten apples which they
privily munched at church. But verily it pitied me,
for I remembered the days of my youth.
Thirdly, With the sweat of my own hands I did
make plain and smooth the dogs'-ears throughout our
great Bible.
Fourthly, The pews and benches, which were for-
merly swept but once in three years, I caused every
Saturday to be swept with a besom and trimmed.
Fifthly and lastly, I caused the surplice to be
neatly darned, washed, and laid in fresh lavender,
(yea, and sometimes to be sprinkled with rose-water,)
and I had great laud and praise from all the neigh-
bouring clergy, forasmuch as no parish kept the mi-
nister in cleaner linen.
[Notwithstanding these his public cares, in the
eleventh chapter he informs us he did not neglect
his usual occupations as a handicraftsman.]
Shoes, saith he, did I make (and, if entreated,
mend) with good approbation; faces also did I shave,
and I clipped the hair. Chirurgery I also practised
in the worming of dogs; but to bleed adventured I
not, except the poor. Upon this my twofold profes-
sion there passed among men a merry tale, delect-
able enough to be rehearsed; how that being over-
taken in liquor one Saturday evening, I shaved the
priest with Spanish blacking for shoes, instead of a
washball, and with lamp-black powdered his peruke.
But these were sayings of men delighting in their
own conceits more than in the truth. For it is well
known that great was my skill in these
my crafts ;
yea, I once had the honour of trimming sir Thomas
himself without fetching blood. Furthermore, I was
|
sought unto to geld the lady Frances her spaniel,
which was wont to go astray; he was called Toby,
that is to say, Tobias. And thirdly, I was intrusted
with a gorgeous pair of shoes of the said lady to set
a heel-piece thereon; and I received such praise
therefore, that it was said all over the parish I
should be recommended unto the king to mend shoes
for his majesty; whom God preserve! Amen.
[The rest of this chapter I purposely omit, for it
must be owned that when he speaks as a shoemaker
he is very absurd. He talks of Moses pulling off his
shoes, of tanning the hides of the bulls of Basan, of
Simon the tanner, &c., and takes up four or five
pages to prove that, when the apostles were instructed
to travel without shoes, the precept did not extend to
their successors.]
[The next relates how he discovered a thief with
a bible and key, and experimented verses of the
psalms that had cured agues.]
[I pass over many others, which inform us of pa-
rish affairs only, such as of the succession of curates;
a list of the weekly texts; what psalms he chose on
proper occasions; and what children were born and
buried the last of which articles he concludes
thus:]
That the shame of women may not endure, I
speak not of bastards; neither will I name the mo-
thers, although thereby I might delight many grave
women of the parish: even her who hath done pe-
nance in the sheet will I not mention, forasmuch as
the church hath been witness of her disgrace: let
the father, who hath made due composition with
the churchwardens to conceal his infirmity, rest in
peace; my pen shall not bewray him, for I also have
sinned.
[The next chapter contains what he calls a great
revolution in the church, part of which I tran-
scribe.]
Now was the long-expected time arrived when the
psalms of king David should be hymned unto the
same tunes to which he played them upon his harp;
so was I informed by my singing-master, a man right
cunning in psalmody. Now was our overabundant
quaver and trilling done away, and in lieu thereof
was instituted the sol-fa, in such guise as is sung in
his majesty's chapel. We had London singing-mas-
ters sent into every parish, like excisemen; and I
also was ordained to adjoin myself unto them, though
an unworthy disciple, in order to instruct my fellow-
parishioners in this new manner of worship.-What
though they accused me of humming through the
nostril as a sackbut; yet would I not forego that
harmony, it having been agreed by the worthy pa-
rish-clerks of London still to preserve the same.
voices as it were a psaltery, and the church on the
tutored the young men and maidens to tune their
Sunday was filled with these new hallelujahs.
I
[Then follow full seventy chapters containing an
exact detail of the lawsuits of the parson and his pa-
rishioners concerning tithes, and near an hundred
pages left blank, with an earnest desire that the his-
tory might be completed by any of his successors, in
whose time these suits should be ended.]
[The next contains an account of the briefs read
in the church, and the sums collected upon each.
For the reparation of nine churches, collected at
nine several times, 2s. 73d. For fifty families ruined
by fire, 1s. d. For an inundation, a king Charles's
groat, given by lady Frances, &c.]
[In the next he laments the disuse of wedding-
serinons, and celebrates the benefits arising from
824
MEMOIRS OF P. P., CLERK OF THIS PARISH.
those at funerals, concluding with these words, "Ah! a weekly assembly of divers worthy men at the Rose
let not the relations of the deceased grudge the small and Crown alehouse, over whom myself (though un-
expense of a hatband, a pair of gloves, and ten shil-worthy) did preside. Yea, I did read to them the
lings, for the satisfaction they are sure to receive
from a pious divine that their father, brother, or
bosom wife, are certainly in heaven.]
[In another he draws a panegyric on one Mrs.
Margaret Wilkins; but, after great encomiums, con-
cludes, "that notwithstanding all, she was an unpro-
fitable vessel, being a barren woman, and never once
having furnished God's church with a christening."]
[We find in another chapter how he was much
staggered in his belief, and disturbed in his con-
science, by an Oxford scholar, who had proved to
him by logic that animals might have rational, nay,
immortal souls; but how he was again comforted
with the reflection that, if so, they might be allowed
christian burial, and greatly augment the fees of the
parish.]
[In the two following chapters he is overpowered
with vanity. We are told how he was constantly ad-
mitted to all the feasts and banquets of the church
officers, and the speeches he there made for the good
of the parish. How he gave hints to young clergy-
men to preach; but, above all, how he gave a text for
the 30th of January, which occasioned a most excel-
lent sermon, the merits of which he takes entirely to
himself. He gives an account of a conference he
had with the vicar concerning the use of texts. Let
a preacher (says he) consider the assembly before
whom he preacheth, and unto them adapt his text.
Micah the 3d, and 11th, affordeth good matter for
courtiers and court-serving men. "The heads of the
land judge for reward, and the people thereof judge
for hire, and the prophets thereof divine for money;
yet will they lean upon the Lord, and say, Is not
the Lord among us?" Were the first minister to
point out a preacher before the house of commons,a
would not he be wise to make choice of these words?
"Give, and it shall be given unto ye." Or before
the lords, "Giving no offence, that the ministry be
not blamed," 2 Cor. vi. 3. Or praising the warm zeal
of an administration, "Who maketh his ministers a
flaming fire," Psal. civ. 4. We omit many other of
his texts as too tedious.]
[From this period the style of the book rises ex-
tremely. Before the next chapter was pasted the
effigies of Dr. Sacheverell, and I found the opposite
page all on a foam with politics.]
We are now (says he) arrived at that celebrated
year in which the church of England was tried in
the person of Dr. Sacheverell.b I had ever the inte-
rest of our high-church at heart, neither would I at
any season mingle myself in the societies of fanatics,
whom I from my infancy abhorred more than the
heathen or gentile. It was in these days I bethought
myself that much profit might accrue unto our pa-
rish, and even unto the nation, could there be assem-
bled together a number of chosen men of the right
spirit, who might argue, refine, and define, upon high
and great matters. Unto this purpose did I institute
་་
This application of texts is equal in humour to what is said
on the same subject in Eachard's Contempt of the Clergy;" a
work that abounds in wit, and was evidently much read by
Swift.
Bolingbroke, speaking of Sacheverell, in his Dedication to
sir Robert Walpole, says, "You had a sermon to condemn, and
a parson to roast; for that, I think, was the decent language of
the time; and, to carry on the allegory, you roasted him at so
fierce a fire that you burnt yourselves; your arguments being
confined to the propositions this preacher had advanced, you
may seem rather to have justified resistance. or the means om-
ployed to bring about the Revolution than the Revolution
itself."
Postboy of Mr. Roper, and the written letter of Mr.
Dyer, upon which we communed afterward among
ourselves.
Our society was composed of the following per-
sons: Robert Jenkins, farrier; Amos Turner, collar-
maker; George Pilcocks, late exciseman; Thomas
White, wheelwright; and myself.
First, of the first, Robert Jenkins. He was a man
of bright parts and shrewd conceit, for he never
shoed a horse of a whig or a fanatic but he lamed
him sorely.
Amos Turner, a worthy person, rightly esteemed
among us for his sufferings, in that he had been
honoured in the stocks for wearing an oaken bough.
George Pilcocks, a sufferer also; of zealous and
laudable freedom of speech, insomuch that his occu-
pation had been taken from him.
Thomas White, of good repute likewise, for that
his uncle by the mother's side had formerly been
servitor at Maudlin College, where the glorious Sa-
cheverell was educated.
Now were the eyes of all the parish upon these
our weekly councils. In a short space the minister
came among us; he spake concerning us and our
councils to a multitude of other ministers at the vi-
sitation, and they spake thereof unto the ministers
at London, so that even the bishops heard and mar-
velled thereat. Moreover, sir Thomas, member of
parliament, spake of the same unto other members
of parliament, who spake thereof unto the peers of
the realm. Lo! thus did our councils enter into the
hearts of our generals and our lawgivers; and from
henceforth, even as we devised, thus did they.
[After this the book is turned on a sudden from
his own life to a history of all the public transactions
of Europe, compiled from the newspapers of those
times. I could not comprehend the meaning of this,
till I perceived at last, to my no small astonishment,
that all the measures of the four last years of the
queen, together with the peace at Utrecht, which
have been usually attributed to the earl of Oxford,
duke of Ormond, lords Harcourt and Bolingbroke,
and other great men, do here most plainly appear to
have been wholly owing to Robert Jenkins, Amos
Turner, George Pilcocks, Thomas White, but above
all P. P.
The reader may be sure I was very inquisitive af-
ter this extraordinary writer, whose work I have here
abstracted. I took a journey into the country on
purpose: but could not find the least trace of him ;
till by accident I met an old clergyman who said he
could not be positive, but thought it might be one
Paul Phillips, who had been dead about twelve years.
And upon inquiry, all we could learn of that person
from the neighbourhood was, that he had been taken
notice of for swallowing loaches, and remembered by
some people by a black and white cur, with one ear,
that constantly followed him.]
[In the churchyard I read this epitaph, said to be
written by himself:]
O reader, if that thou canst read,
Look down upon this stone;
Do all we can, Death is a man
That never spareth none
REASONS AGAINST EXAMINING DRUGS.
825
REASONS
HUMBLY OFFERED BY THE COMPANY EXERCISING
THE TRADE AND MYSTERY OF UPHOLDERS,
AGAINST PART OF THE BILL
For the better viewing, searching, aud examining Drugs,
Medicines, &c. 1724.ª
BEING called upon by several retailers and dispen-
sers of drugs and medicines about town to use our
endeavours against the bill now depending for view-
ing, &c. In regard of our common interest, and in
gratitude to the said retailers and dispensers of medi-
cines, which we have always found to be very effect-
ual, we presume to lay the following reasons before
the public against the said bill.
That the company of upholders are far from being
averse to the giving of drugs and medicines in gene-
ral, provided they be of such qualities as we require,
and administered by such persons in whom our com-
pany justly repose the greatest confidence; and pro-
vided they tend to the encouragement of trade and
the consumption of the woollen manufacture of this
kingdom.
We beg leave to observe that there has been no
complaint from any of the nobility, gentry, and citi-
zens, whom we have attended. Our practice, which
consists chiefly in outward applications, having been
always so effectual that none of our patients have
been obliged to undergo a second operation, except-
ing one gentlewoman, who, after her first burial,
having burdened her husband with a new brood of
posthumous children, her second funeral was by us
performed without any further charges to the said
husband of the deceased. And we humbly hope that
one single instance of this kind, a misfortune owing
merely to the avarice of a sexton in cutting off a
ring, will not be imputed to any want of skill or care
in our company.
We humbly conceive that the power by this bill
lodged in the censors of the college of physicians to
restrain any of his majesty's subjects from dispensing,
and well-disposed persons from taking, what medi-
cines they please, is a manifest encroachment on the
liberty and property of the subject.
As the company exercising the trade and mystery
of upholders have an undisputed right in and upon
the bodies of all and every the subjects of the king-
dom, we conceive the passing of this bill, though not
absolutely depriving them of their said right, might
keep them out of possession by unreasonable delays,
to the great detriment of our company and their nu-
merous families.
We hope it will be considered that there are mul-
titudes of necessitous heirs and penurious parents,
persons in pinching circumstanees with numerous
families of children, wives that have lived long, many
robust aged women with great jointures, elder bro-
thers with bad understandings, single heirs of great
estates, whereby the collateral line are for ever ex-
cluded, reversionary patents and reversionary pro-
mises of preferments, leases upon single lives and
play-debts upon joint lives, and that the persons so
aggrieved have no hope of being speedily relieved any
other way than by the dispensing of drugs and me-
dicines in the manner they now are: burying alive
being judged repugnant to the known laws of this
kingdom.
That there are many of the deceased who, by cer-
tain mechanical motions and powers, are carried about
In the year 1724 the physicians made application to par-
liament to prevent apothecaries dispensing medicines without
the prescription of a physician; during which this tract was
dispersed in the court of requests,
town, who would have been put into our hands long
before this time by any other well-ordered govern-
ment by want of a due police in this particular our
company have been great sufferers.
That frequent funerals contribute to preserve the
genealogies of families and the honours conferred by
the crown, which are nowhere so well illustrated as
on this solemn occasion; to maintain necessitous cler-
gy; to enable the clerks to appear in decent habits to
officiate on Sundays; to feed the great retinue of sober
and melancholy men who appear at the said funerals,
and who must starve without constant and regular em-
ployment. Moreover, we desire that it may be remem-
bered that by the passing of this bill the nobility
and gentry will have their old coaches lie upon their
hand, which are now employed by our company.
And we further hope that frequent funerals will
not be discouraged, as it is by this bill proposed, it
being the only method left of carrying some people
to church.
We are afraid that by the hardships of this bill
our company will be reduced to leave their business
here, and practise at York and Bristol, where the
free use of bad medicines will be still allowed.
It is therefore hoped that no specious pretence
whatsoever will be thought sufficient to introduce
an arbitrary and unlimited power for people to live
(in defiance of art) as long as they can by the course
of nature, to the prejudice of our company and the
decay of trade.
That as our company are likely to suffer in some
measure by the power given to physicians to dissect
the bodies of malefactors, we humbly hope that the
manufacture of cases for skeletons will be reserved
solely to coffin-makers.
We likewise humbly presume that the interest of
the several trades and professions which depend
upon ours may be regarded; such as that of hearses,
coaches, coffins, epitaphs, and bell-ropes, stone-cut-
ters, feathermen, and bell-ringers; and especially
the manufacturers of crapes and the makers of
stuff, who use great quantities of old coffins, and
who, considered in the consumption of their drugs,
employ by far the greatest number of hands of any
manufacture of the kingdom.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE MAYOR AND ALDERMEN
OF THE CITY OF LONDON,
THE HUMBLE PETITION OF THE COLLIERS, COOKS,
COOKMAIDS, BLACKSMITHS, JACKMAKERS, BRA-
ZIERS, AND OTHERS,
SHEWETH,-That whereas certain virtuosi, disaffected
to the government and to the trade and prosperity
of this kingdom, taking upon them the name and
title of the CATOPTRICAL VICTUALLERS, have pre-
sumed by gathering, breaking, folding, and bundling
up the sunbeams, by the help of certain glasses, to
make, produce, and kindle up several new focuses
or fires within these his majesty's dominions, and
there to boil, bake, stew, fry, and dress all sorts of
victuals and provisions, to brew, distil spirits, smelt
ore, and in general to perform all the offices of cu-
linary fires, and are endeavouring to procure to
themselves the monopoly of this their said inven-
tion: We beg leave humbly to represent to your
honours,
That such grant or patent will utterly ruin and
reduce to beggary your petitioners, their wives, chil-
dren, servants, and trades on them depending, there
being nothing left to them after the said invention
but warming of cellars and dressing of suppers in the
826
HUMBLE PETITION OF THE COLLIERS, &c.
winter-time. That the abolishing of so considerable | gruel, &c., for which we are ready to produce to
a branch of the coasting-trade as that of the colliers
will destroy the navigation of this kingdom. That
whereas the said catoptrical victuallers talk of making
use of the moon by night as of the sun by day, they
will utterly ruin the numerous body of tallow-chan-
dlers, and impair a very considerable branch of the
revenue which arises from the tax upon tallow and
candles.
That the said catoptrical victuallers do profane the
emanations of that glorious luminary the sun, which
is appointed to rule the day, and not to roast mut-
ton. And we humbly conceive it will be found con-
trary to the known laws of this kingdom to confine,
forestal, and monopolise the beams of the sun. And
whereas the said catoptrical victuallers have under-
taken, by burning glasses made of ice, to roast an
ox upon the Thames next winter: we conceive all
such practices to be an encroachment upon the
rights and privileges of the company of watermen.
That the diversity of exposition of the several
kitchens in this great city, whereby some receive the
rays of the sun sooner, and others later, will occasion
great irregularity as to the time of dining of the se-
veral inhabitants, and consequently great uncertainty
and confusion in the despatch of business; and to
those who, by reason of their northern exposition,
will be still forced to be at the expense of culinary
fires, it will reduce the price of their manufacture to
such inequality as is inconsistent with common jus-
tice; and the same inconveniency will affect land-
lords in the value of their rents.
That the use of the said glasses will oblige cooks
and cookmaids to study optics and astronomy in
order to know the due distance of the said focuses
or fires, and to adjust the position of their glasses to
the several altitudes of the sun, varying according to
the hours of the day and the seasons of the year;
which studies at these years will be highly trouble-
some to the said cooks and cookmaids, not to say
anything of the utter incapacity of some of them to
go through with such difficult arts; or (which is still
a greater inconvenience) it will throw the whole art
of cookery into the hands of astronomers and glass-
grinders, persons utterly unskilled in other parts of
that profession, to the great detriment of the health
of his majesty's good subjects.
That it is known by experience that meat roasted
with sunbeams is extremely unwholesome; witness
several that have died suddenly after eating the pro-
visions of the said catoptrical victuallers; forasmuch
as the sunbeams taken inwardly render the humours
too hot and adust, occasion great sweatings, and dry
up the rectual moisture.
That sunbeams taken inwardly shed a malignant
influence upon the brain by their natural tendency
toward the moon, and produce madness and distrac-
tion at the time of the full moon. That the constant
use of so great quantities of this inward light will
occasion the growth of quakerism to the danger of
the church, and of poetry to the danger of the state.
That the influences of the constellations through
which the sun passes will with his beams be con-
veyed into the blood; and when the sun is among
the horned signs may produce such a spirit of un-
chastity as is dangerous to the honour of your wor-
ships' families.
That mankind, living much upon the seeds and
other parts of plants, these, being impregnated with
the sunbeams, may vegetate and grow in the bowels,
a thing of more dangerous consequence to human
bodies than breeding of worms; and this will fall
heaviest upon the poor, who live upon roots, and the
weak and sickly, who live upon barley and rice-
your honours the opinions of eminent physicians
that the taste and property of the victuals is much
altered to the worse by the said solar cookery, the
fricassées being deprived of the haut goût they acquire
by being dressed over charcoal.
Lastly, should it happen by an eclipse of an ex-
traordinary length that this city should be deprived
of the sunbeams for several months, how will his
majesty's subjects subsist in the interim, when com-
mon cookery, with the arts depending upon it, is
totally lost?
In consideration of these and many other incon-
veniences, your petitioners humbly pray that
your honours would either totally prohibit the
confining and manufacturing the sunbeams for
any of the useful purposes of life, or, in the en-
suing parliament, procure a tax to be laid upon
them, which may answer both the duty and
price of coals, and which we humbly conceive
cannot be less than thirty shillings per yard
square; reserving the sole right and privilege
of the catoptrical cookery to the Royal Society,
and to the commanders and crews of the bomb-
vessels under the direction of Mr. Whiston, for
finding out the longitude, who by reason of the
remoteness of their stations may be reduced to
straits for want of firing.
And we likewise beg that your honours, as to the
forementioned points, would hear the reverend
Mr. Flamstead, who is the legal officer appointed
by the government to look after the heavenly
luminaries, whom we have constituted our trusty
and learned solicitor.
IT CANNOT RAIN BUT IT POURS; or,
LONDON STREWED WITH
RARITIES.
Being an account of the arrival of a white bear at the house
of Mr. Ratcliff, in Bishopsgate-street; as also of Faustina, the
celebrated Italian singing-woman; and of the copper-farthing
dean from Ireland. And lastly, of the wonderful wild man that
was nursed in the woods of Germany by a wild beast, hunted
and taken in toils; how he behaveth himself like a dumb
creature, and is a christian like one of us, being called Peter;
and how he was brought to court all in green, to the great as-
tonishment of the quality and gentry; 1726.
WE shall begin with a description of Peter the sa-
vage, deferring our other curiosities to some follow-
ing papers.
Romulus and Remus, the two famous wild men
of antiquity, and Orson, that of the moderns, have
been justly the admiration of all mankind; nor can
we presage less of this wild youth, as may be gathered
from that famous and well-known prophecy of Lilly's,
which being now accomplished is most easily inter-
preted:
When Rome shall wend to Benevento,
And Espagne break the assiento;
When eagle split shall fly to China,
And christian folks adore Faustina :
Then shall an oak be brought to bed
Of creature neither taught nor fed ;
Great feats shall he achieve---
The pope is now going to Benevento; the Spa-
niards have broke their treaty; the emperor trades
to China; and Lilly, were he alive, must be con-
vinced that it was not the empress Faustina that
was meant in the prophecy.
It is evident by several tokens about this wild
IT CANNOT RAIN BUT IT POURS.
827
gentleman that he had a father and mother like one
of us; but there being no register of his christening
his age is only to be guessed at by his stature and
countenance, and appears to be about twelve or thir-
teen. His being so young was the occasion of the
great disappointment of the ladies, who came to the
drawing-room in full expectation of some attempt
upon their chastity; so far is true that he endea-
voured to kiss the young lady Walpole, who for
that reason is become the envy of the circle; this
being a declaration of nature in favour of her supe-
rior beauty.
Aristotle says that man is the most mimic of all
animals; which opinion of that great philosopher is
strongly confirmed by the behaviour of this wild
gentleman, who is endowed with that quality to an
extreme degree. He received his first impressions
at court: his manners are first to lick people's hands,
and then turn his breech upon them; to thrust his
hand into everybody's pocket; to climb over people's
heads, and even to make use of the royal hand to
take what he has a mind to. At his first appearance
he seized on the lord-chamberlain's staff, and put on
his hat before the king; from whence some have
conjectured that he is either descended from a
grandee of Spain or the earls of Kingsale in Ireland.
However, these are manifest tokens of his innate
ambition: he is extremely tenacious of his own pro-
perty, and ready to invade that of other people.
this mimic quality he discovered what wild beast had
nursed him; observing children to ask blessings of
their mothers, one day he fell down upon his knees
to a sow, and muttered some sounds in that humble
posture.
By
It has been commonly thought that he is Ulrick's
natural brother, because of some resemblance of man-
ners, and the officious care of Ulrick about him; but
the superiority of parts and genius in Peter demon-
strates this to be impossible.
Though he is ignorant both of ancient and modern
languages (that care being left to the ingenious phy-
sician who is intrusted with his education), yet he
distinguishes objects by certain sounds framed to
himself, which Mr. Rotenberg, who brought him
over, understands perfectly. Beholding one day the
shambles with great fear and astonishment, ever
since he calls man by the same sound which ex-
presses wolf. A young lady is a peacock; old women
magpies and owls; a beau with a toupee, a monkey;
glass, ice; blue, red, and green ribbons, he calls
rainbow; a heap of gold, a turd. The first ship he
saw he took to be a great beast swimming on her
back, and her feet tied above her; the men that
came out of the hold he took to be her cubs, and
wondered they were so unlike their dam.
He un-
derstands perfectly the language of all beasts and
birds, and is not, like them, confined to that of one
species. He can bring any beast what he calls for,
and no doubt is much missed now in his native
woods, where he used to do good offices among his
fellow-citizens, and served as a mediator to reconcile
their differences. One day he warned a flock of
sheep that were driving to the shambles of their dan-
ger; and upon uttering some sounds they all fled.
He takes vast pleasure in conversation with horses;
and going to the Mews to converse with two of his
intimate acquaintances in the king's stables, as he
passed by he neighed to the horse at Charing-cross,
being as it were surprised to see him so high; he
seemed to take it ill that the horse did not answer
him; but I think nobody can undervalue his under-
standing for not being skilled in statuary.
He expresses his joy most commonly by neighing;
and whatever the philosophers may talk of their risi-
bility, neighing is a more noble expression of that
passion than laughing, which seems to me to have
something silly in it, and besides, is often attended
with tears. Other animals are sensible they debase
themselves by mimicking laughter; and I take it to
be a general observation that the top felicity of man-
kind is to imitate monkeys and birds; witness har-
lequins, scaramouches, and masqueraders; on the
other hand, monkeys, when they would look ex-
tremely silly, endeavour to bring themselves down to
mankind. Love he expresses by the cooing of a dove,
and anger by the croaking of a raven; and it is not
doubted but that he will serve in time as an inter-
preter between us and other animals.
Great instruction is to be had from this wild youth
in the knowledge of simples; and I am of opinion
that he ought always to attend the censors of the
college in their visitation of apothecaries' shops.
I am told that the new sect of herb-eaters [Dr.
Cheyne's followers] intend to follow him into the
fields, or to beg him for a clerk of their kitchen; and
that there are many of them now thinking of turn-
ing their children into woods to graze with the cattle
in hopes to raise a healthy and moral race, refined
from the corruptions of this luxurious world.
He sings naturally several pretty tunes of his own
composing, and with equal facility in the chromatic,
enharmonic, and diatonic style; and consequently
must be of infinite use to the academy in judging of
the merits of their composers, and is the only person
that ought to decide between Cuzzoni and Faustina.a
I cannot omit his first notion of clothes, which he
took to be the natural skins of the creatures that
wore them, and seemed to be in great pain for the
pulling off a stocking, thinking the poor man was a-
Hlaying.
man.
I am not ignorant that there are disaffected peo-
ple who say he is a pretender, and no genuine wild
This calumny proceeds from the false notions
they have of wild men, which they frame from such
as they see about the town, whose actions are rather
absurd than wild; therefore it will be incumbent on
all young gentlemen who are ambitious to excel in
this character to copy this true original of nature.
The senses of this wild man are vastly more acute
than those of a tame one; he can follow the track of
a man, or any other beast of prey. A dog is an ass
to him for finding truffles; his hearing is more per-
fect, because, his ears not having been confined by
bandages, he can move them like a drill, and turn
them towards the sonorous object.
"Let us pray the Creator of all beings, wild and
tame, that, as this wild youth by being brought to
court has been made a christian, so such as are at
court and are no christians may lay aside their
savage and rapacious nature, and return to the meek-
ness of the gospel."
THE NARRATIVE OF
DR. ROBERT NORRIS,"
CONCERNING THE STRANGE AND DEPLORABLE
FRENZY OF MR. JOHN DENNIS, AN OFFICER
OF THE CUSTOM-HOUSE.
Being an exact Account of all that passed between the said
Patient and the Doctor till this present day; and a full Vindi-
a Two rival singers at the opera.
b Addison highly disapproved of this bitter satire on Dennis,
and Pope was not a little chagrined at this disapprobation; for
the narrative was intended to merit the favour of Addison, by
defending his Cato; in which seeming defence Addison was far
from thinking Pope sincere.
828
DR. NORRIS'S NARRATIVE OF
cation of himself and his Proceedings from the extravagant re-
ports of the said Mr. JOHN DENNIS."
-excludit sanos Helicone poetas
Democritus.-Hor.
Ir is an acknowledged truth that nothing is so dear
to an honest man as his good name, nor ought he to
neglect the just vindication of his character when it
is injuriously attacked by any man. The person I
have at present cause to complain of is indeed in
very melancholy circumstances, it having pleased
God to deprive him of his senses, which may ex-
tenuate the crime in him. I should be wanting in
my duty, not only to myself but also to my fellow-
creatures, to whom my talents may prove of benefit,
should I suffer my profession of honesty to be un-
deservedly aspersed. I have therefore resolved to
give the public an account of all that has passed be-
tween the unhappy gentleman and myself.
countenance was not a little eclipsed by the fulness
of his peruke. As I am a black lean man, of a pale
visage, and hang my clothes on somewhat slovenly,
I no sooner went in, but he frowned upon me, and
cried out with violence, "'Sdeath, a Frenchman! I
am betrayed to the tyrant! who could have thought
the queen would have delivered ine up to France in
this treaty, and least of all that you, my friends,
would have been in a conspiracy against me?".
"Sir," said I, "here is neither plot nor conspiracy
but for your advantage. The recovery of your senses
requires my attendance, and your friends sent for me
on no other account." I then took a particular
survey of his person, and the furniture and disposi-
tion of his apartment. His aspect was furious; his
eyes were rather fiery than lively, which he rolled
about in an uncommon manner. He often opened his
mouth, as if he would have uttered some matter of
On the 20th instant, while I was in my closet pon- importance, but the sound seemed lost inwardly. His
dering the case of one of my patients, I heard a beard was grown, which they told me he would not
knocking at my door, upon opening of which entered suffer to be shaved; believing the modern dramatic
an old woman, with tears in her eyes, and told me poets had corrupted all the barbers in the town to
that without my assistance her master would be take the first opportunity of cutting his throat. His
utterly ruined. I was forced to interrupt her sorrow eyebrows were grey, long, and grown together, which
by inquiring her master's name and place of abode. he knit with indignation when anything was spoken;
She told me he was one Mr. Dennis, an officer of insomuch that he seemed not to have smoothed his
the customhouse, who was taken ill of a violent frenzy forehead for many years. His flannel nightcap,
last April, and had continued in those melancholy which was exceedingly begrimed with sweat and
circumstances, with few or no intervals. Upon this
Upon this dirt, hung upon his left ear; the flap of his breeches
I asked her some questions relating to his humour dangled between his legs, and the rolls of his stock-
and extravagancies, that I might the better knowings fell down to his ancles.
under what regimen to put him when the cause of
his distemper was found out. Alas, sir," says she,
"this day fortnight, in the morning, a poor simple
child came to him from the printer's; the boy had
no sooner entered the room but he cried out, 'the
devil was come.' He often stares ghastfully, raves
aloud, and mutters between his teeth the word Cator
or Cato, or some such thing. Now, doctor, this Cator
is certainly a witch, and my poor master is under an
evil tongue; for I have heard him say Cator has be-
witched the whole nation. It pitied my very heart
It pitied my very heart
to think that a man of my master's understanding
and great scholarship, who, as the child told me, had
a book of his own in print, should talk so outrage-
ously. Upon this, I went and laid out a groat for a
horse-shoe, which is at this time nailed on the thresh-
old of the door; but I don't find my master is at all
the better of it; he perpetually starts and runs to the
window, when any one knocks, crying out, ''Sdeath!
a messenger from the French king! I shall die in the
Bastile.'"
Having said this, the old woman presented me
with a vial of his urine; upon examination of which
I perceived the whole temperament of his body to be
exceeding hot. I therefore instantly took my cane and
my beaver, and repaired to the place where he dwelt.
When I came to his lodgings near Charing-cross,
up three pair of stairs, (which I should not have
published in this manner, but that this lunatic con-
ceals the place of his residence, on purpose to pre-
vent the good offices of those charitable friends and
physicians who might attempt his cure,) when I came
into the room, I found this unfortunate gentleman
seated on his bed, with Mr. Bernard Lintot, book-
seller, on the one side of him, and a grave elderly
gentleman on the other, who, as I have since learned
calls himself a grammarian, the latitude of whose
The history of Mr. Dennis is to be seen in Jacob's "Lives
of the Poets," or in Mr. Pope's "Dunciad," among the notes
upon which the curious reader may find some extracts from
his writings. The occasion of this narrative sufficiently appears
from the doctor's own words. A mistake of Mr. Granger's, in
respect to Dr. Case's attending John Dennis in his frenzy, is
pointed out in Dr. King's works, vol. ii. p. 302.
I observed his room was hung with old tapestry
which had several holes in it, caused, as the old wo-
man informed me, by his having cut out of it the
heads of divers tyrants, the fierceness of whose
visages had much provoked him. On all sides of
his room were pinned a great many sheets of a tra-
gedy called Cato, with notes on the margin with his
own hand. The words ABSURD, MONSTROUS, EXE-
CRABLE, were everywhere written in such large cha-
racters that I could read them without my spectacles.
By the fireside lay three-farthings-worth of small
coal in a "Spectator," and behind the door huge
heaps of papers of the same title, which his nurse
informed me she had conveyed thither out of his
sight, believing they were books of the black art;
for her master never read in them but he was either
quite moped or in raving fits. There was nothing
neat in the whole room except some books on his
shelves, very well bound and gilded, whose names I
had never before heard of, nor I believe were any-
where else to be found; such as "Gibraltar," a
comedy; "Remarks on Prince Arthur;" "The
Grounds of Criticism in Poetry;" "An Essay on
Public Spirit." The only one I had any knowledge
of was a "Paradise Lost," interleaved. The whole
floor was covered with manuscripts as thick as a
a Christmas-eve. On his
pastry-cook's shop on
table were some ends of verse and of candles; a
gallipot of ink with a yellow pen in it, and a pot of
half-dead ale covered with a Longinus.
As I was casting my eyes round on all this odd
furniture with some earnestness and astonishment and
in a profound silence, I was on a sudden surprised
to hear the man speak in the following manner:—
"Beware, doctor, that it fare not with you as with
your predecessor the famous Hippocrates, whom the
mistaken citizens of Abdera sent for in this very
manner to cure the philosopher Democritus; he
returned full of admiration at the wisdom of that
person whom he supposed a lunatic. Behold, doc-
tor, it was thus Aristotle himself and all the great
ancients spent their days and nights, wrapt up in
criticism and beset all around with their own writ-
THE FRENZY OF JOHN DENNIS.
829
ings. As for me, whom ye see in the same manner,
ye see in the same manner,
be assured I have none other disease than a swelling
in my legs, whereof I say no more since your art
may farther certify you."
I thereupon seated myself upon his bedside, and
placing my patient on my right hand to judge the
better in what he affirmed of his legs, felt his pulse.
For it is Hippocrates's maxim that if the pulse
nave a dead motion with some unequal beatings it
is a symptom of a sciatica, or a swelling in the thigh
or leg; in which assertion of his this pulse con-
firmed me.
I
I began now to be in hopes that his case had been
misrepresented, and that he was not so far gone but
that some timely medicines might recover him.
therefore proceeded to the proper queries, which,
with the answers made to me, I shall set down in
form of a dialogue in the very words they were
spoken, because I would not omit the least circum-
stance in the narrative; and I call my conscience to
witness, as if upon oath, that I shall tell the truth
without addition or diminution.
Doctor. Pray, sir, how did you contract this
swelling?
Denn. By a criticism.
Doctor. A criticism! that's a distemper I never
read of in Galen.
Denn. 'Sdeath, sir, a distemper! It is no distem-
per, but a noble art. I have sat fourteen hours
a-day at it; and are you a doctor and don't know
there's a communication between the legs and the
brain?
Doctor. What made you sit so many hours, sir.
Denn. Cato, sir.
Doctor. Sir, I speak of your distemper; what
gave you this tumour?
Denn. Cato, Cato, Cato.a
Old Wom. For God's sake, doctor, name not this
evil spirit; 'tis the whole cause of his madness;
alas, poor master's just falling into his fits!
Mr. Lintot. Fits! Z-
Fits! Z! what fits? A man
may well have swellings in his legs that sits writing
fourteen hours in a day. He got this by the "Re-
marks."
Doctor. The "Remarks!" what are those?
Denn. 'Sdeath! have you never read my "Re-
marks ?" I will be damned if this dog Lintot ever
published my advertisements.
Mr. Lintot. Z! I published advertisement
upon advertisement, and if the book be not read
it is none of my fault, but his that made it. By G-,
as much has been done for the book as could be done
for any book in Christendom.
Doctor. We do not talk of books, sir; I fear those
are the fuel that feed his delirium; mention them
no more. You do very ill to promote this discourse.
I desire a word in private with this other gentleman,
who seems a grave and sensible man; I suppose,
sir, you are his apothecary?
Gent. Sir, I'm his friend.
Doctor. I doubt it not. What regimen have you
observed since he has been under your care? You
remember I suppose the passage of Celsus, which
says if the patient on the third day have an interval,
suspend the medicaments at night? Let fumiga-
tions be used to corroborate the brain. I hope you
have upon no account promoted sternutation by hel-
lebore.
-You may
Gent. Sir, no such matter; you utterly mistake.
Doctor. Mistake! am I not a physician? and shall
an apothecary dispute my nostrums?-
perhaps have filled up a prescription or two of Rat-
cliff's which chanced to succeed, and with that very
a Remarks on Cato, published by Mr. Dennis in 1712.
| prescription, injudiciously prescribed to different
constitutions, have destroyed a multitude. Phar-
macopola componat,
macopola componat, medicus solus præscribat, says
Celsus. Fumigate him, I say, this very evening,
while he is relieved by an interval.
Denn. 'Sdeath, sir, my friend an apothecary! a
base mechanic! He who like myself professes the
noblest sciences in the universe, criticism and
po-
etry! Can you think I would submit my writings
to the judgment of an apothecary? By the immor-
tals, he himself inserted three whole paragraphs in
my "Remarks," had a hand in my "Public Spirit ;"
nay, assisted me in my description of the furies and
infernal regions in my "Appius."
Mr. Lintot. He is an author; you mistake the
gentleman, doctor; he has been an author these
twenty years, to his bookseller's knowledge and no
man's else.
Denn. Is all the town in a combination? Shall
poetry fall to the ground? Must our reputation be
lost to all foreign countries? O destruction! perdi-
tion! Opera! Opera a As poetry once raised cities,
so when poetry fails cities are overturned and the
world is no more.
!ª
Doctor. He raves, he raves; Mr. Lintot, I pray you
pinion down his arms that he may do no mischief.
Denn. O I am sick, sick to death!
Doctor. That is a good symptom, a very good
symptom. To be sick to death (say the modern
physicians) is an excellent symptom. When a pa-
tient is sensible of his pain 'tis half a cure. Pray,
sir, of what are you sick?
Denn. Of everything, of everything; I am sick of
the sentiments, of the diction, of the protasis, of the
epitasis, and the catastrophe.-Alas, what is become
of the drama, the drama?
Old Wom. The dram, sir? Mr. Lintot drank up
all the gin just now; but I'll go fetch more pre-
sently.
Denn. O shameful want! scandalous omission!
By all the immortals, here is no peripatia, no change
of fortune in the tragedy! Z―! no change at all!
Old Wom. Pray, good sir, be not angry; I'll fetch
change.
Doctor. Hold your peace, woman; his fit in-
creases; good Mr. Lintot, hold him.
Mr. Lintot. Plague on't! I am damnably afraid
they are in the right of it, and he is mad in earnest.
If he should be really mad, who the devil will buy
the "Remarks ?"-[Here Mr. Lintot scratched his
head.]
Doctor. Sir, I shall order you the cold bath to-
morrow.- -Mr. Lintot, you are a sensible man;
pray send for Mr. Verdier's servant, and as you are
a friend to the patient be so kind as to stay this
evening while he is cupped on the head. The symp-
toms of his madness seem to be desperate; for Avi-
cen says that if learning be mixed with a brain that
is not of a contexture fit to receive it, the brain fer-
ments till it be totally exhausted. We must eradi-
cate these undigested ideas out of the pericranium,
and reduce the patient to a competent knowledge of
himself.
Denn. Caitiffs, stand off! unhand me, miscreants!
Is the man whose whole endeavours are to bring the
town to reason, mad? Is the man who settles
poetry on the basis of antiquity, mad? Dares any
one assert there is a peripatia in that vile piece that's
foisted upon the town for a dramatic poem? That
man is mad, the town is mad, the world is mad.
See Longinus in my right hand, and Aristotle in my
left; I am the only man among the moderns that
He wrote a treatise proving the decay of public spirit to
proceed from Italian operas.
830
DR. NORRIS'S NARRATIVE OF THE FRENZY OF JOHN DENNIS.
support them. Am I to be assassinated; and shall
a bookseller who has lived upon my labours take
away that life to which he owes his support?
Gent. By your leave, gentlemen, I apprehend you
not. I must not see my friend ill-treated; he is no
more affected with lunacy than myself: I am also
of the same opinion as to the peripatia.-Sir, by the
gravity of your countenance and habit I should per-
ceive you to be a graduate physician; but by your
indecent and boisterous treatment of this man of
learning I perceive you are a violent sort of a person,
I am loth to say quack, who, rather than his drugs.
should lie upon his own hands, would get rid of
them by cramming them into the mouths of others:
the gentleman is of good condition, sound intel-
lectuals, and unerring judgment; I beg you will not
oblige me to resent these proceedings.
These were all the words that passed among us at
this time; nor was there need for more, it being
necessary we should make use of force in the cure
of my patient.
I privately whispered the old woman to go to Mr.
Verdier's in Long-acre, with orders to come imme-
diately with cupping-glasses: in the mean time, by
the assistance of Mr. Lintot, we locked his friend
into a closet, who, it is plain from his last speech,
was likewise touched in his intellects; after which
we bound our lunatic hand and foot down to the
bedstead, where he continued in violent ravings not-
withstanding the most tender expressions we could
use to persuade him to submit to the operation, till
the servant of Verdier arrived. He had no sooner
clapped half a dozen cupping-glasses on his head and
behind his ears but the gentleman above mentioned,
bursting open the closet, ran furiously upon us, cut
Mr. Dennis's bandages, and let drive at us with a
vast folio, which sorely bruised the shin of Mr. Lin-
tot; Mr. John Dennis also, starting up with the cup-
ping-glasses on his head, seized another folio, and
with the same dangerously wounded me in the skull,
just above my right temple. The truth of this fact
Mr. Verdier's servant is ready to attest upon oath,
who, taking an exact survey of the volumes, found
that which wounded my head to be Gruterus's
"Lampas Critica;" and that which broke Mr. Lintot's
shin was Scaliger's "Poetics." After this Mr. John
Dennis, strengthened at once by rage and madness,
snatched up a peruke-block that stood by the bed-
side, and wielded it round in so furious a manner
that he broke three of the cupping-glasses from the
crown of his head, so that much blood trickled down
his visage.. He looked so ghastly, and his passion
was grown to such a prodigious height, that myself,
Mr. Lintot, and Mr. Verdier's servant were obliged
to leave the room in all the expedition imaginable.
I took Mr. Lintot home with me, in order to have
our wounds dressed, and laid hold of that opportu-
nity of entering into discourse with him about the
madness of this person, of whom he gave me the
following remarkable relation :
That on the 17th of May, 1712, between the hours
of ten and eleven in the morning, Mr. John Dennis
entered into his shop, and opening one of the volumes
of the Spectator, in the large paper, did suddenly,
without the least provocation, tear out that of No.
-, where the author treats of poetical justice, and
cast it into the street. That the said Mr. John Dennis,
on the 27th of March, 1712, finding on the said Mr.
Lintot's counter a book called an "Essay on Criti-
cism," just then published, he read a page or two
with much frowning, till, coming to these two lines,
Some have at first for wits, then poets, pass'd,
Turn'd critics next, and proved plain fools at last"-
he flung down the book in a terrible fury, and cried
out, "by G-d he means me."
That, being in his company on a certain time,
when Shakspeare was mentioned as of a contrary
opinion to Mr. Dennis, he swore the said Shake-
speare was a rascal, with other defamatory expres-
sions, which gave Mr. Lintot a very ill opinion of
the said Shakspeare.
That, about two months since, he came again into
the shop, and cast several suspicious looks on a gen-
tleman that stood by him, after which he desired
some information concerning that person.
He was
no sooner acquainted that the gentleman was a new
author, and that his first piece was to be published
in a few days, but he drew his sword upon him, and,
had not my servant luckily caught him by the sleeve,
I might have lost one author upon the spot, and
another the next sessions.
Upon recollecting all these circumstances, Mr.
Lintot was entirely of opinion that he had been mad
for some time; and I doubt not but the whole narra-
tive must sufficiently convince the world of the ex-
cess of his frenzy. It now remains that I give the
reasons which obliged me, in my own vindication, to
publish the whole unfortunate transaction.
In the first place Mr. John Dennis had industri-
ously caused to be reported that I entered into his
room vi et armis, either out of a design to deprive
him of his life, or of a new play called "Coriolanus,"
which he has had ready for the stage these four
years.
Secondly, he has given out, about Fleet-street and
the Temple, that I was an accomplice with his book-
seller, who visited him with intent to take away
divers valuable manuscripts, without paying him
copy-money.
Thirdly, he told others that I am no graduate
physician, and that he had seen me upon a mounte-
bank stage in Moorfields, when he had lodgings in
the College there.
Fourthly, knowing that I had much practice in
the city, he reported at the Royal Exchange, Custom-
house, and other places adjacent, that I was a foreign
spy, employed by the French king to convey him
into France; that I bound him hand and foot; and
that, if his friend had not burst from his confine-
ment to his relief, he had been at this hour in the
bastile.
All which several assertions of his are so very ex-
travagant, as well as inconsistent, that I appeal to all
mankind whether this person be not out of his senses.
I shall not decline giving and producing further
proofs of this truth in open court, if he drives the
matter so far. In the mean time I heartily forgive
him, and pray that the Lord may restore him to the
full enjoyment of his understanding: so wisheth, as
becometh a christian,
ROBERT NORRIS, M.D.
From my house on Snow-hill, July the 30th, 1713.
God save the queen.
A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF A HORRID AND
BARBAROUS
REVENGE BY POISON,
ON THE BODY OF MR. EDMUND CURLL, BOOK-
SELLER WITH A FAITIIFUL COPY OF HIS
LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.
Published by an eye-witness.
HISTORY furnishes us with examples of many sati-
rical authors, who have fallen sacrifices to revenge,
The memory of Edmund Curll has been transmitted to
AN ACCOUNT OF THE POISONING OF EDMUND CURLL.
831
but not of any booksellers, that I know of, except
the unfortunate subject of the following paper;
I
mean Mr. Edmund Curll, at the Bible and Dial in
Fleet-street, who was yesterday poisoned by Mr.
Pope, after having lived many years an instance of
the mild temper of the British nation.
Everybody knows that the said Mr. Edmund
Curll, on Monday the 26th instant, published a sati-
rical piece, entitled "Court Poems," in the preface
whereof they were attributed to a lady of quality,
Mr. Pope, or Mr. Gay; by which indiscreet method
though he had escaped one revenge, there were still
two behind in reserve.
Now on the Wednesday ensuing, between the
hours of ten and eleven, Mr. Lintot, a neighbour-
ing bookseller, desired a conference with Mr. Curll
about settling a title-page, inviting him at the same
time to take a whet together. Mr. Pope, who is not
the only instance how persons of bright parts may
be carried away by the instigation of the devil, found
means to convey himself into the same room, under
pretence of business with Mr. Lintot, who, it seems,
is the printer of his Homer. This gentleman, with a
seeming coolness, reprimanded Mr. Curll for wrong-
fully ascribing to him the aforesaid poems: he ex-
cused himself by declaring that one of his authors
(Mr. Oldmixon by name) gave the copies to the
press, and wrote the preface. Upon this Mr. Pope,
being to all appearance reconciled, very civilly drank a
glass of sack to Mr. Curll, which he as civilly pledged;
and though the liquor in colour and taste differed
not from common sack, yet it was plain, by the
pangs this unhappy stationer felt soon after, that
some poisonous drug had been secretly infused
therein.
About eleven o'clock he went home, where his
wife, observing his colour change, said, "Are you
not sick, my dear!" He replied, "Bloody sick;"
and incontinently fell a-vomiting and straining in an
uncommon and unnatural manner, the contents of
his vomiting being as green as grass.
His wife had
been just reading a book of her husband's printing
concerning Jane Wenham, the famous witch of
Hertford, and her mind misgave her that he was
bewitched; but he soon let her know that he sus-
pected poison, and recounted to her, between the
intervals of his yawnings and retchings, every cir-
cumstance of his interview with Mr. Pope.
Mr. Lintot, in the mean time coming in, was ex-
tremely affrighted at the sudden alteration he ob-
served in him: "Brother Curll," says he, "I fear
you have got the vomiting distemper, which I have
heard kills in half an hour. This comes from your
not following my advice, to drink old hock in a
morning as I do, and abstain from sack." Mr. Curl
replied, in a moving tone, "Your author's sack I
fear has done my business."-" Z-ds," says Mr.
Lintot, "
my author!-Why did not you drink old
hock?" Notwithstanding which rough remon-
strance he did in the most friendly manner press him
to take warm water; but Mr. Curll did with great
obstinacy refuse it; which made Mr. Lintot infer
that he chose to die as thinking to recover greater
damages.
All this time the symptoms increased violently,
with acute pains in the lower belly. "Brother
Lintot," says he, "I perceive my last hour ap-
proaching; do me the friendly office to call my part-
posterity with an obloquy he little deserved. Whatever were
his demerits as a bookseller, they were amply atoned for by
his indefatigable industry in preserving our national remains.
Nor did he publish a single volume, but what, amidst a pro-
fusion of base metal, contained some precious ore, some valu-
able roliques, which future collectors could nowhere else have
found.
ner, Mr. Pemberton, that we may settle our worldly
affairs." Mr. Lintot, like a kind neighbour, was
hastening out of the room, while Mr. Curll raved
aloud in this manner: "If I survive this I will be
revenged on Tonson; it was he first detected me as
the printer of these poems, and I will reprint these
very poems in his name." His wife admonished
him not to think of revenge, but to take care of his
stock and his soul; and in the same instant Mr.
Lintot, whose goodness can never be enough ap-
plauded, returned with Mr. Pemberton.
some tears jointly shed by these humane booksellers,
Mr. Curll being, as he said, in his perfect senses,
though in great bodily pain, immediately proceeded
to make a verbal will, Mrs. Curll having first put on
his nightcap, in the following manner :-
After
“GENTLEMEN, in the first place I do sincerely pray
forgiveness for those indirect methods I have pur-
sued in inventing new titles to old books, putting
author's names to things they never saw, publishing
private quarrels for public entertainment; all which
I hope will be pardoned, as being done to get an
honest livelihood.
"I do also heartily beg pardon of all persons of
honour, lords spiritual and temporal, gentry, bur-
gesses, and commonalty, to whose abuse I have any
ticularly I hope it will be considered that, if I have
or every way contributed by my publications; par-
likewise aspersed the late duke of Ormond; if I
vilified his grace the duke of Marlborough, I have
have abused the honourable Mr. Walpole, I have
also libelled the lord Bolingbroke; so that I have
preserved that equality and impartiality which be-
comes an honest man in times of faction and
division.
these things which may seem malicious were done
"I call my conscience to witness that many of
out of charity; I having made it wholly my business
to print for poor disconsolate authors, whom all
other booksellers refuse. Only God bless sir
Richard Blackmore! you know he takes no copy-
money.
"The second collection of poems, which I ground-
lessly called Mr. Prior's, will sell for nothing, and
has not yet paid the charge of the advertisements
which I was obliged to publish against him: there-
fore you may as well suppress the edition, and beg
that gentleman's pardon in the name of a dying
christian.
"The French Cato, with the criticisms showing
how superior it is to Mr. Addison's (which I wickedly
ascribed to madame Dacier), may be suppressed at a
reasonable rate, being damnably translated.
having printed part of Callipœdia,' and an incorrect
"I protest I have no animosity to Mr. Rowe,
edition of his poems, without his leave, in quarto.
Mr. Gildon's Rehearsal, or Bays the Younger,' did
more harm to me than to Mr. Rowe, though, upon
the faith of an honest man, I paid him double for
abusing both him and Mr. Pope.
"Heaven pardon me for publishing the Trials
of Sodomy' in an Elzevir letter! but I humbly hope
my printing sir Richard Blackmore's Essays will
atone for them. I beg that you will take what re-
mains of these last (which is near the whole im-
pression, presents excepted), and let my poor widow
Madame Mascranny.”
have in exchange the sole property of the copy of
[Here Mr. Pemberton interrupted, and would by
no means consent to this article, about which some
dispute might have arisen unbecoming a dying person,
if Mr. Lintot had not interposed, and Mr. Curl
vomited.]
832
AN ACCOUNT OF
[What this poor unfortunate man spoke afterward
was so indistinct, and in such broken accents (being
perpetually interrupted by vomitings), that the reader
is entreated to excuse the confusion and imperfection
of this account.]
"Dear Mr. Pemberton, I beg you to beware of
the indictment at Hicks's-hall for publishing Ro-
chester's bawdy poems; that copy will otherwise be
my best legacy to my dear wife and helpless child.
"The case of impotence was my best support all
the last long vacation."
[In this last paragraph Mr. Curll's voice grew more
free; for his vomitings abated upon his dejections, and
he spoke what follows from his close-stool.]
“For the copies of 'Noblemen's and Bishops' Last
Wills and Testaments,' I solemnly declare I printed
them not with any purpose of defamation, but merely
as I thought those copies lawfully purchased from
Doctors'-commons at one shilling a-piece. Our
trade in wills turning to small account, we may
divide them blindfold.
"For Mr. Mainwaring's Life' I ask Mrs Old-
field's pardon; neither his nor my lord Halifax's
lives, though they were of service to their country,
were of any to me; but I was resolved, since I could
not print their works while they lived, to print their
lives after they were dead."
While he was speaking these words Mr. Oldmixon
entered. "Ah! Mr. Oldmixon," said poor Mr.
Curll,"to what a condition have your works. re-
duced me! I die a martyr to that unlucky preface.
However, in these my last moments I will be just
to all men; you shall have your third share of the
• Court Poems,' as was stipulated.
When I am
dead where will you find another bookseller? Your
• Protestant Packet' might have supported you had
you writ a little less scurrilously; there is a mean
in all things."
Here Mr. Lintot interrupted, " "Why not find
another bookseller, brother Curll?" and then took
Mr. Oldmixon aside and whispered him: "Sir, as
soon as Curll is dead I shall be glad to talk with
you
over a pint at the Devil."
Mr. Curll, now turning to Mr. Pemberton, told
him he had several taking title-pages, that only
wanted treatises to be wrote to them, and earnestly
desired that when they were written his heirs might
have some share of the profit of them.
After he had said this he fell into horrible gripings,
upon which Mr. Lintot advised him to repeat the
Lord's-prayer. He desired his wife to step into the
shop for a common-prayer-book, and read it by the
help of a candle without hesitation. He closed the
book, fetched a groan, and recommended to Mrs.
Curll to give forty shillings to the poor of the parish
of St. Dunstan's, and a week's wages advance to
each of his gentlemen-authors, with some small
gratuity in particular to Mrs. Centlivre.
Not-
The poor man continued for some hours with all
his disconsolate family about him in tears, expecting
his final dissolution; when of a sudden he was sur-
prisingly relieved by a plentiful fetid stool, which
obliged them all to retire out of the room.
withstanding, it is judged by sir Richard Blackmore
that the poison is still latent in his body, and will
infallibly destroy him by slow degrees in less than
a month. It is to be hoped the other enemies of
this wretched stationer will not further pursue their
revenge, or shorten this short period of his miserable
life.
A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE MOST DEPLORABLE
CONDITION OF
MR. EDMUND CURLL,
BOOKSELLER:
SINCE HIS BEING POISONED ON THE 28th OF MARCH.
To be published weekly. London printed, and sold by all the
publishers, mercuries, and hawkers, within the bills of mor-
tality 1716.
THE public is already acquainted with the manner
of Mr. Curll's empoisonment, by a faithful though
unpolite historian of Grub-street. I am but the con-
tinuer of his history; yet I hope a due distinction
will be made between an undignified scribbler of a
stitched book, like myself.
sheet and a half, and the author of a threepenny
vol. ii.] "proceeds from a concurrence of regular
"Wit," says sir Richard Blackmore, [Essays,
and exalted ferments, and an influence of animal
spirits rectified and refined to a degree of purity."
On the contrary, when the ingenious particles rise
with the vital liquor, they produce an abstraction of
the rational part of the soul, which we commonly
call madness. The verity of this hypothesis is justi-
fied by the symptoms with which the unfortunate
Emund Curll, bookseller, has been afflicted ever
since his swallowing the poison at the Swan tavern
in Fleet-street. For though the neck of his retort,
which carries up the animal spirits to the head, is of
an extraordinary length, yet the said animal spirits
ble particles of this uncommon poison.
rise muddy, being contaminated with the inflamma-
The symptoms of his departure from his usual
temper of mind were at first only speaking civilly to
his customers, singeing a pig with a new purchased
libel, and refusing two-and-ninepence for sir Richard
Blackmore's Essays.
As the poor man's frenzy increased, he began to
void his excrements in his bed, read Rochester's
bawdy poems to his wife, gave Oldmixon a slap on
the chops, and would have kissed Mr. Pemberton's
a- by violence.
But at last he came to such a pass that he would
dine upon nothing but copper-plates, took a clyster
suppository for a radish with bread and butter.
for a whipped syllabub, and made Mr. Lintot eat a
sorely all this afflicted poor Mrs. Curll: at first she
We leave it to every tender wife to imagine how
privately put a bill into several churches, desiring the
prayers of the congregation for a wretched stationer,
distempered in mind. But when she was sadly con-
world, she writ the following letter to her good
vinced that his misfortune was public to all the
neighbour Mr. Lintot.
A true copy of Mrs. CURLL's letter to Mr.
LINTOT.
"WORTHY MR. LINTOT,
"You and all the neighbours know too well the
frenzy with which my poor man is visited.
I never
perceived he was out of himself till that melancholy
day that he thought he was poisoned in a glass of
sack; upon this he ran vomiting all over the house,
nay, in the new-washed dining-room. Alas! this is
the greatest adversity that ever befel my poor man,
since he lost one testicle at school by the bite of a
black boar. Good Lord! if he should die, where
should I dispose of the stock? unless Mr. Pemberton
or you would help a distressed widow; for God
knows, he never published any books that lasted
above a week, so that, if he wanted daily books, we
wanted daily bread. I can write no more, for I hear
the rap of Mr. Curll's ivory-headed cane upon the
THE CONDITION OF EDMUND CURLL.
833
counter.-Pray recommend me to your pastry-cook,
who furnishes you yearly with tarts in exchange for
your paper, for Mr. Curll has disobliged ours since
his fits came upon him;-before that, we generally
lived upon baked meats.-He is coming in, and I
have but just time to put his son out of the way, for
fear of mischief: so, wishing you a merry Easter, I
remain your most humble servant,
"C. CURLL.
"P. S. As to the report of my poor husband's
stealing o' calf, it is really groundless, for he always
binds in sheep."
But return we to Mr. Curll, who all Wednesday
continued outrageously mad. On Thursday he had
a lucid interval, that enabled him to send a general
summons to all his authors. There was but one por-
ter who could perform this office, to whom he gave
the following bill of directions, where to find them.
This bill, together with Mrs. Curll's original letter, lie
at Mr. Lintot's shop, to be perused by the curious.
Instructions to a Porter how to find Mr. CURLL'S
Authors.
"At a tallow-chandler's in Petty France, half way
under the blind arch, ask for the historian.
At the Bedstead and Bolster, a music-house in
Moorfields, two translators in a bed together.
At the Hercules and Still in Vinegar-yard, a
schoolmaster with carbuncles on his nose.
At a blacksmith's shop in the Frier's, a pindaric
writer in red stockings.
In the calender-mill room at Exeter Change, a
composer of meditations.
At the Three Tobacco-pipes in Dog and Bitch
yard, one that has been a parson; he wears a blue
camblet coat, trimmed with black; my best writer
against revealed religion.
At Mr. Summers, a thief-catcher's in Lewkner's-
lane, the man who wrote against the impiety of Mr.
Rowe's plays.
At the Farthing-pie-house in Tooting-fields, the
young man who is writing my new pastorals.
At the laundress's, at the Hole in the Wall in Cur-
sitor's-alley, up three pair of stairs, the author of my
Church History;-if his flux be over-you may also
speak to the gentleman who lies by him in the flock-
bed, my index-maker.
The cook's wife [Mrs. Centlivre] in Buckingham-
court; bid her bring along with her the similes that
were lent her for her next new play.
Call at Budge-row for the gentleman you used to
go to in the cockloft; I have taken away the ladder,
but his landlady has it in keeping.
I don't much care if you ask at the Mint for the
old beetled-browed critic [Dennis], and the purblind
poet at the alley over against St. Andrew's, Holborn.
But this as you have time."
All these gentlemen appeared at the hour appointed
in Mr. Curll's dining-room, two excepted; one of
whom was the gentleman in the cockloft, his land-
lady being out of the way, and the Gradus ad Par-
nassum taken down; the other happened to be too
closely watched by the bailiffs.
They no sooner entered the room but all of them
showed in their behaviour some suspicion of each
other; some turning away their heads with an air of
contempt; others squinting with a leer, that showed
at once fear and indignation; each with a haggard
abstracted mien, the lively picture of scorn, solitude,
and short commons. So when a keeper feeds his
hungry charge of vultures, panthers, and of Libyan
leopards, each eyes his fellow with a fiery glare: high
hung, the bloody liver tempts their maw.
housewife stands before her pales, surrounded by her
VOL. I.
Or as a
|
geese; they fight, they hiss, they cackle, beat their
wings, and down is scattered as the winter's snow,
for a poor grain of oat, or tare, or barley. Such looks
shot through the room transverse, oblique, direct;
such was the stir and din, till Curll thus spoke (but
without rising from his close-stool) :-
"Whores and authors must be paid beforehand
to put them in good humour; therefore, here is half-
a-crown a-piece for you to drink your own healths,
and confusion to Mr. Addison and all other success-
ful writers.
"Ah, gentlemen! what have I not done, what
have I not suffered, rather than the world should be
deprived of your lucubrations! I have taken invo-
luntary purges, I have been vomited, three times.
have I been caned, once was I hunted, twice was my
head broke by a grenadier, twice was I tossed in a
blanket; I have had boxes on the ear, slaps on the
chaps; I have been frighted, pumped, kicked, slan-
dered and beshitten.--I hope, gentlemen, you are
all convinced that this author of Mr. Lintot's could
mean nothing else but starving you by poisoning
me. It remains for us to consult the best and speedi-
est method of revenge."
He had scarce done speaking but the historian
proposed a history of his life. The Exeter-change
gentleman was for penning articles of his faith.
Some pretty smart pindaric, says the red-stocking
index-maker said there was nothing like an index to
poet, would effectually do his business. But the
his Homer.
After several debates, they came to the following
resolutions:-
Resolved, That every member of this society,
according to his several abilities, shall contribute
some way or other to the defamation of Mr. Pope.
"Resolved, That towards the libelling of the said
Pope, there be a sum employed not exceeding six
pounds sixteen shillings and ninepence (not in-
cluding advertisements).
Resolved, That Mr. Dennis make an affidavit
before Mr. justice Tully, that in Mr. Pope's Homer
there are several passages contrary to the established
rules of our sublime.
"Resolved, That he has on purpose, in several
passages, perverted the true ancient heathen sense of
Homer, for the more effectual propagation of the
popish religion.
"Resolved, That the printing of Homer's battles
at this juncture has been the occasion of all the dis-
turbances of this kingdom.
"Ordered, That Mr. Barnivelta be invited to be a
member of this society in order to make further dis-
coveries.
"Resolved, That a number of effective erratas be
raised out of Pope's Homer (not exceeding 1746),
and that every gentleman who shall send in one
error, for his encouragement shall have the whole
works of the society gratis.
"Resolved, That a sum not exceeding ten shillings
and sixpence be distributed among the members of
the society for coffee and tobacco, in order to enable
them the more effectually to defame him in coffee-
houses.
"Resolved, That toward the further lessening the
character of the said Pope, some persons be deputed
to abuse him at ladies' tea-tables, and that, in con-
sideration our authors are not well dressed enough,
Mr. C-y and Mr. Ke-l be deputed for that ser-
vice.
a The Key to the Lock," a pamphlet written by Mr. Pope, in
which the "Rape of the Lock" was with great solemnity proved
Barnivelt, apothecary.
to be a political libel, was published in the name of Esdras
3 H
834
AN ACCOUNT OF THE
"Resolved, That a ballad be made against Mr. | thence be drawn, like the rest of your predecessors,
Pope, and that Mr. Oldmixon, Mr. Gildon,ª and
Mrs. Centlivreb do prepare and bring in the same.
Resolved, That above all some effectual ways
and means be found to increase the joint stock of
the reputation of this society, which at present is
exceedingly low, and to give their works the greater
currency, whether by raising the denomination of
the said works by counterfeit title-pages, or mixing
a greater quantity of the fine metal of other authors
with the alloy of this society.
"Resolved, That no member of this society for
the future mix stout in his ale in a morning, and
that Mr. B- remove from the Hercules and Still.
"Resolved, That all our members (except the
cook's wife) be provided with a sufficient quantity
of the vivifying drops, or Byfield's sal volatile.
bit by bit, to the passage-house; for in this present
emotion of my bowels how do I compassionate those
who have great need, and nothing to wipe their
breech with!”
Having said this, and at the same time recollect-
ing that his own was unwiped, he abated of his fury,
and with great gravity applied to that function the
unfinished sheets of the "Conduct of the Earl of
Nottingham.”
A STRANGE BUT TRUE RELATION HOW
MR. EDMUND CURLL,
OF FLEET-STREET, STATIONER,
Out of an extraordinary desire of lucre, went into 'Change
Alley, and was converted from the Christian Religion by cer-
tain eminent Jews:
"Resolved, That sir Richard Blackmorec be ap-
pointed to endow this society with a large quantity | And how he was circumcised and initiated into their Mysteries.
of regular and exalted ferments, in order to enliven
their cold sentiments (being his true receipt to make
wits)."
These resolutions being taken, the assembly was
ready to break up, but they took so near a part in
Mr. Curll's afflictions, that none of them could leave
him without giving him some advice to reinstate him
in his health.
Mr. Gildon was of opinion, that in order to drive
a pope out of his belly, he should get the mummy
of some deceased moderator of the general assembly
in Scotland, to be taken inwardly, as an effectual
antidote against antichrist; but Mr. Oldmixon did
conceive that the liver of the person who adminis-
tered the poison, boiled in broth, would be a more
certain cure.
While the company were expecting the thanks of
Mr. Curl for these demonstrations of their zeal, a
whole pile of sir Richard's Essays on a sudden fell
on his head; the shock of which in an instant
brought back his delirium. He immediately rose
up, overturned the close-stool, and beshit the Essays
(which may probably occasion a second edition);
then, without putting up his breeches, in a most
furious tone he thus broke out to his books, which
his distempered imagination represented to him as
alive, coming down from their shelves, fluttering
their leaves and flapping their covers at him :—
"Now G-d damn all folios, quartos, octavos, and
duodecimos! ungrateful varlets that you are, who
have so long taken up my house without paying for
your lodging! Are you not a beggarly brood of fum-
bling journeymen, born in garrets among lice and
cobwebs, nursed up on grey peas, bullock's liver,
and porter's ale? Was not the first light you saw
the farthing candle I paid for? Did you not come
before your time into dirty sheets of brown paper?
And have I not clothed you in double royal, lodged
you handsomely on decent shelves, laced your backs
with gold, equipped you with splendid titles, and
sent you into the world with the names of persons
of quality? Must I be always plagued with you?
Why flutter ye your leaves and flap your covers at
Damn ye all, ye wolves in sheep's clothing;
rags ye were, and to rags ye shall return. Why
hold you forth your texts to me, ye paltry sermons?
Why cry ye at every word to me, ye bawdy poems?
To my shop at Tunbridge ye shall go, by G-, and
me?
a Gildon, a writer of criticisms and libels, who abused Mr.
Pope in several pamphlets and books printed by Curll.
Mrs. Susannah Centlivre, the "slip-shod Sibyl" in the
Dunciad.
Sir Richard Blackmore, in his Essays, vol. ii. p. 270, ac-
cused Mr. Pope, in very high and sober terms, of profaneness
and immorality, on the mere report of Curll that he was author
of a travestie on the first Psalm.
AVARICE (as sir Richard, in the third page of his
Essays, has elegantly observed) is an inordinate im-
pulse of the soul toward the amassing or heaping
together a superfluity of wealth, without the least
regard of applying it to its proper uses.
And how the mind of man is possessed with this
vice may be seen every day both in the city and
suburbs thereof. It has been always esteemed by
Plato, Puffendorf, and Socrates, as the darling vice
of old age; but now our young men are turned
usurers and stock-jobbers; and instead of lusting
after the real wives and daughters of our rich
citizens, they covet nothing but their money and
estates. Strange change of vice! when the concu-
piscence of youth is converted into the covetousness
of age, and those appetites are now become venal
which should be venereal.
In the first place, let us show you how many of
the ancient worthies and heroes of antiquity have
been undone and ruined by this deadly sin of ava-
rice.
I shall take the liberty to begin with Brutus, that
noble Roman. Does not Etian inform us that he
received fifty broad pieces for the assassination of
that renowned emperor Julius Cæsar, who fell a
sacrifice to the Jews, as sir Edmundbury Godfrey
did to the papists?
Did not Themistocles let the Goths and Vandals
into Carthage for a sum of money, where they bar-
barously put out the other eye of the famous Han-
nibal? as Herodotus has it in his ninth book upon
the Roman medals.
Even the great Cato (as the late Mr. Addison has
very well observed), though otherwise a gentleman
of good sense, was not unsullied by this pecuniary
contagion; for he sold Athens to Artaxerxes Longi-
manus for a hundred rix-dollars, which in our money
will amount to two talents and thirty sestertii, ac-
cording to Mr. Demoivre's calculation. See Hesiod
in his seventh chapter of " Feasts and Festivals."
Actuated by the same diabolical spirit of gain,
Sylla, the Roman consul, shot Alcibiades the senator
with a pistol, and robbed him of several bank-bills
and 'chequer notes to an immense value; for which
he came to an untimely end, and was denied chris-
tian burial. Hence comes the proverb incidat in
Syllam.
To come near to our own times, and give you one
modern instance, though well known and often
quoted by historians, viz. Echard, Dionysius Hali-
carnasseus, Virgil, Horace, and others. "Tis that I
mean of the famous Godfrey of Bulloigne, one of
the great heroes of the holy war, who robbed Cleo-
patra queen of Egypt, of a diamond necklace, ear-
CONVERSION OF EDMUND CURLL.
835
rings, and a Tompion's gold watch (which was given
her by Mark Antony); all these things were found
in Godfrey's breeches-pocket when he was killed at
the siege of Damascus.
Who then can wonder, after so many great and
illustrious examples, that Mr. Edmund Curll, the
stationer, should renounce the christian religion for
the mammon of unrighteousness, and barter his pre-
cious faith for the filthy prospect of lucre in the pre-
sent fluctuation of stocks?
a
It having been observed to Mr. Curll by some of
his ingenious authors (who I fear are not overcharged
with any religion), what immense sums the Jews
had got by bubbles, &c., he immediately turned his
mind from the business in which he was educated,
but thrived little, and resolved to quit his shop for
'Change-alley. Whereupon falling into company
with the Jews at their club at the sign of the Cross
in Cornhill, they began to tamper with him upon
the most important points of the christian faith,
which he for some time zealously, and like a good
christian, obstinately defended. They promised
him paradise and many other advantages hereafter,
but he artfully insinuated that he was more inclin-
able to listen to present gain. They took the hint,
and promised him that immediately upon his con-
version to their persuasion he should become as rich
as a Jew.
They made use likewise of several other argu-
ments; to wit,
That the wisest man that ever was, and inasmuch
the richest, beyond all peradventure, was a Jew,
videlicet, Solomon.
That David, the man after God's own heart, was
a Jew also. And most of the children of Israel are
suspected for holding the same doctrine.
|
trance into the room he perceived a meagre man
with a sallow countenance, a black forky beard, and
long vestment. In his right hand he held a large
pair of shears, and in his left a red-hot searing-iron.
At sight of this Mr. Curll's heart trembled within
him, and fain would he retire; but he was prevented
by six Jews, who laid hands upon him, and, unbut-
toning his breeches, threw him upon the table, a pale
pitiful spectacle.
He now entreated them in the most moving tone
of voice to dispense with that unmanly ceremonial,
which if they would consent to, he faithfully pro-
mised that he would eat a quarter of paschal lamb
with them the next Sunday following.
All these protestations availed him nothing, for
they threatened him that all contracts and bargains
should be void unless he would submit to bear all
the outward and visible signs of Judaism.
Our apostate, hearing this, stretched himself upon
his back, spread his legs, and waited for the opera-
tion: but when he saw the high priest take up the
cleft stick, he roared most unmercifully, and swore
several christian oaths, for which the Jews rebuked
him.
The savour of the effluvia that issued from him
convinced the old Levite and all his assistants that
he needed no present purgation, wherefore without
further anointing him he proceeded in his office;
when, by an unfortunate jerk upward of the impa-
tient victim, he lost five times as much as ever Jew
did before.
They, finding that he was too much circumcised,
which by the Levitical law is worse than not being
circumcised at all, refused to stand to any of their
contracts: wherefore they cast him forth from their
synagogue; and he now remains a most piteous,
woful, and miserable sight, at the sign of the Old
Testament and Dial in Fleet-street; his wife (poor
woman!) is at this hour lamenting over him, wring-
This Mr. Curll at first strenuously denied, for in-
deed he thought them Roman catholics, and so far
was he from giving way to their temptations that to
convince them of his christianity he called for a porking her hands and tearing her hair; for the barbar-
griskin.
They then promised if he would poison his wife
and give up his griskin, that he should marry the
rich Ben Meymon's only daughter. This made some
impression on him.
They now talked to him in the Hebrew tongue,
which he not understanding it was observed had
very great weight with him.
They now, perceiving that his godliness was only
gain, desisted from all other arguments, and attacked
him on his weak side, namely, that of avarice.
Upon which John Mendez offered him an eighth
of an advantageous bargain for the Apostles' Creed,
which he readily and wickedly renounced.
He then sold the nine-and-thirty articles for a
bull; but insisted hard upon black-puddings, being
a great lover thereof.
Joshua Pereira engaged to let him share with him
in his bottomry; upon this he was persuaded out of
his christian name; but he still adhered to black-
puddings.
Sir Gideon Lopez tempted him with a forty-pound
subscription in Ram's bubble, for which he was con-
tent to give up the four Evangelists; and he was now
completed a perfect Jew, all but black-pudding and
circumcision, for both of which he would have been
glad to have had a dispensation.
But on the 17th of March Mr. Curll (unknown to
his wife) came to the tavern aforesaid. At his en-
a Bubble was a name given to all the extravagant projects,
for which sub-criptions were raised, and negotiated at vast
premiums in 'Change-ailey, in the year 1720.
b Bulls and bears. He who sells that of which he is not
possessed is proverbially said "to sell the skin before he has
caught the bour."
ous Jews still keep, and expose at Jonathan's and
Garraway's, the memorial of her loss and her hus-
band's indignity.
PRAYER.
(To save the stamp.)ª
"KEEP us, we beseech thee, from the hands of
such barbarous and cruel Jews, who, albeit they
abhor the blood of black-puddings, yet thirst they
vehemently after the blood of white ones. And that
we may avoid such-like calamities, may all good and
well-disposed christians be warned by this unhappy
wretch's woful example, to abominate the heinous
sin of avarice, which sooner or later will draw them
into the cruel clutches of Satan, papists, and stock-
jobbers. Amen."
THOUGHTS
ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS.
BY MR. POPE.
PARTY is the madness of many, for the gain of a
few.
There never was any party, faction, sect, or cabal
whatsoever, in which the most ignorant were not the
most violent; for a bee is not a busier animal than a
All Forms of Prayer and Thanksgiving, Books of Devotion,
&c., being excepted in the statute of 12th Anne (1712) charging
pamphlets and papers contained in half a sheet with one half-
penny, and every such paper being one whole sheet with a
stamp-duty of one penny for every copy.
3 H 2
836
THOUGHTS ON
blockhead. However, such instruments are neces-
sary to politicians; and perhaps it may be with states
as with clocks, which must have some dead weight
hanging at them to help and regulate the motion of
the finer and more useful parts.
To endeavour to work upon the vulgar with fine
sense is like attempting to hew blocks with a razor.
Fine sense and exalted sense are not half so useful as
common sense: there are forty men of wit to one man
of sense and he that will carry nothing about him
but gold, will be every day at a loss for want of
readier change.
Learning is like mercury, one of the most power-
ful and excellent things in the world in skilful hands;
in unskilful, the most mischievous.
The nicest constitutions of government are often
like the finest pieces of clock-work, which, depend-
ing on so many motions, are therefore more subject
to be out of order.
Every man has just as much vanity as he wants
understanding.
Modesty, if it were to be recommended for nothing
else, this were enough, that the pretending to little
leaves a man at ease; whereas boasting requires per-
petual labour to appear what he is not. If we have
sense, modesty best proves it to others; if we have
none, it best hides our want of it. For, as blushing
will sometimes make a whore pass for a virtuous
woman, so modesty may make a fool seem a man of
sense.
It is not so much the being exempt from faults as
the having overcome them that is an advantage to
us: it being with the follies of the mind as with the
weeds of a field, which, if destroyed and consumed
upon the place of their birth, enrich and improve it
more than if none had ever sprung there.
To pardon those absurdities in ourselves which we
cannot suffer in others is neither better nor worse
than to be more willing to be fools ourselves than to
have others so.
A man should never be ashamed to own he has
been in the wrong, which is but saying, in other
words, that he is wiser to-day than he was yester-
day.
Our passions are like convulsive fits, which, though
they make us stronger for the time, leave us weaker
ever after.
To be angry is to revenge the fault of others upon
ourselves.
A brave man thinks no one his superior who
does him an injury; for he has it then in his power
to make himself superior to the other by forgiving
it.
To relieve the oppressed is the most glorious act
a man is capable of; it is in some measure doing the
business of God and Providence.
Superstition is the spleen of the soul.
Atheists put on a false courage and alacrity in
the midst of their darkness and apprehensions: like
children, who, when they go in the dark, will sing
for fear.
An atheist is but a mad, ridiculous derider of
piety; but a hypocrite makes a sober jest of God and
religion. He finds it easier to be upon his knees
than to rise to do a good action; like an impudent
debtor, who goes every day and talks familiarly to his
creditor, without ever paying what he owes.
What Tully says of war may be applied to dis-
puting; it should be always so managed as to re-
member that the only end of it is peace: but gene-
rally true disputants are like true sportsmen, their
whole delight is in the pursuit; and a disputant no
more cares for the truth than the sportsman for the
hare.
!
The Scripture, in time of disputes, is like an open
town in time of war, which serves indifferently the
occasions of both parties: each makes use of it for
the present turn, and then resigns it to the next
comer to do the same.
Such as are still observing upon others are like
those who are always abroad at other men's houses,
reforming everything there, while their own run to
ruin.
When men grow virtuous in their old age, they
only make a sacrifice to God of the devil's leav-
ings.
When we are young we are slavishly employed
in procuring something whereby we may live com-
fortably when we grow old; and when we are old
we perceive it is too late to live as we proposed.
People are scandalized if one laughs at what they
call a serious thing. Suppose I were to have my head
cut off to-morrow, and all the world were talking of
it to-day, yet why might not I laugh to think what
a bustle is there about my head?
The greatest advantage I know of being thought
a wit by the world is, that it gives one the greater
freedom of playing the fool.
We ought in humanity no more to despise a man
for the misfortunes of the mind than for those of the
body, when they are such as he cannot help. Were
this thoroughly considered, we should no more laugh
at one for having his brains cracked than for having
his head broke.
A man of wit is not incapable of business, but
above it. A sprightly, generous horse is able to carry
a pack-saddle as well as an ass, but he is too good to
be put to the drudgery.
Wherever I find a great deal of gratitude in a poor
man, I take it for granted there would be as much
generosity if he were a rich man.
Flowers of rhetoric, in sermons and serious dis-
courses, are like the blue and red flowers in corn,
pleasing to them who come only for amusement, but
prejudicial to him who would reap the profit.
When two people compliment each other with the
choice of anything, each of them generally gets that
which he likes least.
He who tells a lie is not sensible how great a task
he undertakes; for he must be forced to invent
twenty more to maintain that one.
Giving advice is many times only the privilege of
saying a foolish thing oneself, under pretence of
hindering another from doing one.
It is with followers at court as with followers on
the road, who first bespatter those that go before,
and then tread on their heels.
False happiness is like false money; it passes for
a time as well as the true, and serves some ordinary
occasions; but when it is brought to the touch, we
find the lightness and allay, and feel the loss.
Dastardly men are like sorry horses, who have but
just spirit and mettle enough left to be mischievous.
Some people will never learn anything, for this
reason, because they understand everything too
soon.
A person who is too nice an observer of the busi-
ness of the crowd, like one who is too curious in
observing the labour of the bees, will often be stung
for his curiosity.
A man of business may talk of philosophy, a man
who has none may practise it.
There are some solitary wretches who seem to
have left the rest of mankind, only as Eve left
Adam, to meet the devil in private.
The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly
passing away, and yet constantly coming on.
I seldom see a noble building or any other piece
VARIOUS SUBJECTS.
837
of magnificence and pomp, but I think how little is
all this to satisfy the ambition or to fill the idea of
an immortal soul.
It is a certain truth that a man is never so easy or
so little imposed upon as among people of the best
sense it costs far more trouble to be admitted or
continued in ill company than in good; as the for-
mer have less understanding to be employed, so they
have more vanity to be pleased; and to keep a fool
constantly in good humour with himself and with
others is no very easy task.
The difference between what is commonly called
ordinary company and good company is only hear-
ing the same things said in a little room or in a large
saloon, at small tables or at great tables, before two
candles or twenty sconces.
It is with narrow-souled people as with narrow-
necked bottles, the less they have in them the more
noise they make in pouring it out.
Many men have been capable of doing a wise
thing, more a cunning thing, but very few a gene-
rous thing.
Since it is reasonable to doubt most things, we
should most of all doubt that reason of ours which
would demonstrate all things.
To buy books, as some do who make no use of
them, only because they were published by an emi-
nent printer, is much as if a man should buy clothes
that did not fit him, only because they were made by
some famous tailor.
It is as offensive to speak wit in a fool's company
as it would be ill manners to whisper in it; he is
displeased with both for the same reason, because he
is ignorant of what is said.
False critics rail at false wits, as quacks and im-
postors are still cautioning us to beware of counter-
feits, and decry other cheats only to make more way
for their own.
Old men for the most part are like old chronicles,
that give you dull but true accounts of time past,
and are worth knowing only on that score.
There should be, methinks, as little merit in loving
a woman for her beauty as in loving a man for his
prosperity; both being equally subject to change.
We should manage our thoughts in composing
any work as shepherds do their flowers in making a
garland; first select the choicest, and then dispose
them in the most proper places, where they give a
lustre to each other.
As handsome children are more a dishonour to a
deformed father than ugly ones, because unlike him-
self; so good thoughts owned by a plagiary bring
him more shame than his own ill ones.
When a poor thief appears in rich garments, we
immediately know they are none of his own.
Human brutes, like other beasts, find snares and
poison in the provisions of life, and are allured by
their appetites to their destruction.
The most positive men are the most credulous;
since they most believe themselves, and advise most
with the falsest flatterer and worst enemy, their own
self-love.
Get your enemies to read your works in order to
mend them; for your friend is so much your second
self that he will judge too like you.
Women use lovers as they do cards; they play
with them awhile, and, when they have got all they
can by them, throw them away, call for new ones,
and then perhaps lose by the new ones all they got
by the old ones.
Honour in a woman's mouth, like an oath in the
mouth of a gamester, is ever still most used as their
truth is most questioned.
Women, as they are like riddles in being unin-
telligible, so generally resemble them in this, that
we know
they please us no longer when once
them.
A man who admires a fine woman has yet no
more reason to wish himself her husband than one
who admired the Hesperian fruit would have had to
wish himself the dragon that kept it.
He who marries a wife because he cannot always
live chastely is much like a man who, finding a few
humours in his body, resolves to wear a perpetual
blister.
Married people, for being so closely united, are but
the apter to part; as knots, the harder they are
pulled, break the sooner.
A family is but too often a commonwealth of
malignants; what we call the charities and ties of
affinity prove but so many separate and clashing
interests: the son wishes the death of the father;
the younger brother that of the elder; the elder
repines at the sisters' portions: when any of them
marry, there are new divisions and new animosities.
It is but natural and reasonable to expect all this,
and yet we fancy no comfort but in a family.
Authors in France seldom speak ill of each other
but when they have a personal pique; authors in
England seldom speak well of each other but when
they have a personal friendship.
There is nothing wanting to make all rational and
disinterested people in the world of one religion, but
that they should walk together every day.
Men are grateful in the same degree that they are
resentful.
The longer we live the more we shall be convinced
that it is reasonable to love God and despise man
as far as we know either.
That character in conversation which commonly
passes for agreeable is made up of civility and false-
hood.
A short and certain way to obtain the character of
a reasonable and wise man is, whenever any one
tells you his opinion to comply with it.
What is generally accepted as virtue in women is
very different from what is thought so in men; a
very good woman would but make a paltry man.
Some people are commended for a giddy kind of
good humour, which is as much a virtue as drunk-
enness.
Those people only will constantly trouble you with
doing little offices for them, who least deserve you
should do any.
We are sometimes apt to wonder to see those
people proud who have done the meanest things;
whereas a consciousness of having done poor things,
and a shame of hearing of them, often make the com-
position we call pride.
An excuse is worse and more terrible than a lie
for an excuse is a lie guarded.
Praise is like ambergris; a little whiff of it, and
by snatches, is very agreeable; but when a man
holds a whole lump of it to his nose, it is a stink and
strikes you down.
The general cry is against ingratitude; be sure
the complaint is misplaced, it should be against
vanity. None but direct villains are capable of
wilful ingratitude; but almost everybody is capable
of thinking he has done more than another deserves,
while the other thinks he has received less than he
deserves.
I never knew any man in my life who could not
bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a christian.
Several explanations of casuists to multiply the
catalogue of sins may be called amendments to the
ten commandments.
It is observable that the ladies frequent tragedies
838
A WONDERFUL PROPHECY.
more than comedies; the reason may be, that in
tragedy their sex is deified and adored, in comedy
exposed and ridiculed.
The character of covetousness is what a man
generally acquires more through some niggardliness
or ill grace in little or inconsiderable things than in
expenses of any consequence. A very few pounds
a-year would ease that man of the scandal of avarice.
Some men's wit is like a dark lantern, which
serves their own turn and guides them their own
way, but is never known (according to the Scrip-
ture phrase) either to shine forth before men or to
glorify their Father in heaven.
It often happens that those are the best people
whose characters have been most injured by slan-
ders; as we usually find that to be the sweetest fruit
which the birds have been pecking at.
The people all running to the capital city is like a
confluence of all the animal spirits to the heart; a
symptom that the constitution is in danger.
The wonder we often express at our neighbours
keeping dull company would lessen if we reflected
that most people seek companions less to be talked
to than to talk.
Amusement is the happiness of those that cannot
think.
Never stay dinner for a clergyman who is to make
a morning visit ere he comes, for he will think it his
duty to dine with any greater man that asks him.
A contented man is like a good tennis-player, who
never fatigues and confounds himself with running
eternally after the ball, but stays till it comes to him.
Two things are equally unaccountable to reason,
and not the object of reasoning; the wisdom of God
and the madness of man.
Many men, prejudiced early in disfavour of man-
kind by bad maxims, never aim at making friend-
ships; and while they only think of avoiding the
evil, miss of the good that would meet them. They
begin the world knaves for prevention, while others
only end so after disappointment.
The greatest things and the most praiseworthy
that can be done for the public good are not what
require great parts, but great honesty: therefore for
a king to make an amiable character he needs only
to be a man of common honesty well advised.
No woman hates a man for being in love with her;
but many a woman hates a man for being a friend
to her.
The eye of a critic is often, like a microscope,
made so very fine and nice that it discovers the atoms,
grains, and minutest particles, without ever compre-
hending the whole, comparing the parts, or seeing
all at once the harmony.
A king may be a tool, a thing of straw; but if he
serves to frighten our enemies and secure our pro-
perty, it is well enough: a scarecrow is a thing of
straw, but it protects the corn.
Notwithstanding the common complaint of the
knavery of men in power, I have known no great
ministers or men of parts and business so wicked as
their inferiors; their sense and knowledge preserve
them from a hundred common rogueries, and when
they become bad it is generally more from the ne-
cessity of their situation than from a natural bent to
evil.
Whatever may be said against a premier or sole
minister, the evil of such a one in an absolute go-
vernment may not be great, for it is possible that
almost any minister may be a better man than a king
born and bred.
A man coming to the waterside is surrounded by
all the crew every one is officious, every one makes
applications, every one offering his services; the
whole bustle of the place seems to be only for him.
The same man going from the waterside, no noise is
made about him, no creature takes notice of him, all
let him pass with utter neglect!—the picture of a
minister when he comes into power and when he
goes out.
A WONDERFUL PROPHECY
TAKEN from the mouth of the spirit of a person who was bar-
barously slain by the Mohocks [rakes and debauchees];
proving also that the said Mohocks and Hawcubites are the
Gog and Magog mentioned in the Revelation; and there-
fore that this vain and transitory world will shortly be brought
to its final dissolution.
BREATHED FORTH IN THE YEAR 1712.
Woc! Woe! Woe!
WOE to London! Woe to Westminster! Woe to
Southwark! and Woe to the inhabitants thereof!
I am loth to say, Woe to the old and new churches,
those that are built and those that are not built!
But Woe to the gates, the streets, and the houses!
Woe to the men, the women, and the children; for
the Mohocks and the Hawcubites are already come,
the time draweth near, and the end approacheth!
Not to mention the near resemblance between the
names of Mohock and Gog, Hawcubite and Magog
(though I think there is a great deal even in that), I
shall go on to proceed in my more solid arguments,
proving to you not only the things that are, but also
the things that are not.
The things that are, are the Mohocks and Hawcu-
bites the things that are not, are Gog and Magog;
and yet both the things that are, and the things that
are not, are one and the same thing.
How this matter is, or when it is to be fulfilled,
neither you nor I know, but I only.
For when the Mohocks and Hawcubites came,
Satan carne also among them; and where Satan is,
there are Gog and Magog also.
They have the mark of the beast in their foreheads,
and the beast himself is in their hearts, their teeth
like the tails of scorpions, and their hair is as the
are sharp like the teeth of lions, their tails are fiery
hair of women.
[Here the spirit paused awhile, and thus again pro-
ceeded.]
Now listen to what is to come:
Those that are in shall abide in, and those that
are out shall abide out. Yet those that are in shall
be as those that are out, and those that are out shall
be as those that are in.
Be not dejected-fear not-but believe and tremble.
The lions of this world are dead, and the princes
of this world are dead also, and the next world
draweth nigh.
That ancient Whig, the antichrist of St. John,
shall lead the van like a young dragon, but he shall
be cut piecemeal and dispossessed.
The dragon upon Bow church and the grass-
hopper upon the Royal Exchange shall meet together
upon Stocks-market, and shake hands like brethren.
Shake therefore your heads, O ye people! My
time is short, and yours is not long; lengthen there-
fore your repentance, and shorten your iniquities.
Lo! the comet appeareth in the south! yea, it ap-
peareth exceedingly. Ah, poor deluded christians!
Ah, blind brethren! think not that this baleful dog-
star only shaketh his tail at you in waggery; no, it
shaketh it as a rod. It is not a sporting tail, but a
fiery tail, even as the tail of a harlot; yea, such a tail
as may reach and be told to all posterity.
THE COUNTRY POST.
839
I am the porter that was barbarously slain in
Fleet-street: by the Mohocks and Hawcubites was
I slain when they laid violent hands upon me.
They put their hook into my mouth, they divided
my nostrils asunder; they sent me as they thought
to my long home, but now I am returned again to
foretel their destruction.
| Sukey, who, fearing these young men were come to
beat up their quarters, deserted their necessary
posts, which were immediately taken possession of,
notwithstanding they were much annoyed by reason
of several stinkpots that had been flung there the
same morning.
The time is at hand when the freethinkers of Great [From the barley-mow, near the barn, August the 3rd.]
Britain shall be converted to Judaism; and the sul-
tan shall receive the foreskins of Toland and Collins
in a box of gold.
Yet two days, a day, and half a day, yet upon the
twelfth hour of the fourth day those emblems of Gog
and Magog at the Guildhall shall fall to the ground
and be broken asunder. With them shall perish the
Mohocks and Hawcubites, and the whole world
shall perish with them.
[Here the spirit disappeared, and immediately
thereupon held his peace.]
THE COUNTRY POST:
FROM TUESDAY, AUGUST THE TWELFTH, TO THURSDAY,
AUGUST THE FOURTEENTH.
[From the henroost, August the 4th.]
Two days ago we were put in a dreadful consterna-
tion by the advance of a kite, which threatened every
minute to fall upon us; he made several motions, as
if he designed to attack our left wing, which covered
our infantry. We were alarmed at his approach, and
upon a general muster of all our forces the kitchen-
maid came to our relief, but we were soon convinced
that she had betrayed us and was in the interest of
the kite aforesaid, for she twisted off two of our
companions' necks and stripped them naked; five of
us were also clapped in a close prison in order to be
sold for slaves the next market-day.
P. S. The black hen was last night safely delivered
of seven young ducks.
[From the garden, August the 3rd:]
The boars have done much mischief of late in these
parts, to such a degree that not a turnip or carrot
can lie safe in their beds. Yesterday several of them
were taken, and sentenced to have a wooden engine
put about their necks, to have their noses bored and
rings thrust through them, as a mark of infamy for
such practices.
[From the great pond, August the 1st.]
Yesterday a large sail of ducks passed by here,
after a small resistance from two little boys, who
flung stones at them; they landed near the barn-
door, where they foraged with very good success.
While they were upon this enterprise an old turkey-
cock attacked a maid in a red petticoat, and she re-
tired with great precipitation. This afternoon being
somewhat rainy they set sail again, and took several
frogs. Just now arrived the parson's wife, and
twenty ducks were brought forth before her in order
to be tried, but for what crime we know not; how-
ever, two of them were condemned. 'Twas also
observed that she carried off a gosling and three
sucking pigs.
[From the little fort at the end of the garden, August
the 5th.]
Last night two young men of this place made a
detachment of their breeches, in order, as it is
thought, to possess themselves of the two overtures
of the said fort; but at their approach they heard
great firing from the port-holes; they found them
already bombarbed by the rear-guard of Sarah and
It was yesterday rumoured that there was heard
a mighty squeaking near this place, as of an army of
mice, who were thought to lie in ambuscade in the
said mow. Upon this the farmer assembled together
a council of neighbours, wherein it was resolved that
the mow should be removed to prevent the further
destruction of the forage. This day the affair was
put in execution; four hundred and seventy-nine
mice and three large rats were killed, and a vast
number wounded, by pitchforks and other instru-
ments of husbandry. A mouse that was close pur-
sued took shelter under Dolly's petticoats; but by
the vigilance of George Simmons he was taken, as
he was endeavouring to force his way through a
deep morass, and crushed to death on the spot.
There was nothing material happened the next day,
only Cicily Hart was observed to make water under
the said mow as she was going a-milking.
[From the great yard, August the 2nd.]
It is very credibly reported that there is a treaty
of marriage on foot between the old red cock and
the pied hen, they having of late appeared very much
in public together; he yesterday made her a present
of three barley-corns, so that we look on this affair
as concluded. This is the same cock that fought a
duel for her about a month ago.
[From the squire's house.]
On Sunday last there was a noble entertainment
in our great hall, where were present the parson and
the farmer: the parson eat like a farmer, and the
farmer like a parson: we refer you to the curious in
calculations to decide which eat most.
It is reported that the minister christened a male
child last week, but it wants confirmation.
[From the justices' meeting, August the 7th.]
This day a jackdaw, well known in the parish,
was ordered close prisoner to a cage for crying
"cuckold" to a justice of the quorum; and the
same evening certain apples for hissing in a disre-
spectful manner as they were roasting were com-
mitted to lamb's-wool. The same day the said jus-
tices caused a pig to be whipped to death, and eat
the same, being convicted of squeaking on the 10th
of June.
[From the church, August the 8th.]
Divine service is continued in our parish as usual,
though we have seldom the company of any of the
neighbouring gentry; by whose manner of living it
may be conjectured that the advices from this place
are not credited by them, or else regarded as matters
of little consequence.
[From the churchyard, August the 8th.]
The minister, having observed his only daughter
to seem too much affected with the intercourse of his
bull and the cows of the parish, has ordered the ce-
remony for the future to be performed, not in his
own court, but in the churchyard, where, at the first
solemnity of that kind, the gravestones of John Fry,
Peter How, and Mary d'Urfey, were spurned down.
This has already occasioned great debates in the
vestry, the latter being the deceased wife of the sing-
ing clerk of this place.
840
GOD'S REVENGE AGAINST PUNNING.
:
[Casualties this week.]
Several casualties have happened this week, and
the bill of mortality is very much increased. There
have died of the falling-sickness two stumbling
horses, as also one of their riders. Smothered (in
onions), seven rabbits. Stifled (in a soldier's
breeches), two geese. Of a sore throat, several
sheep and calves at the butcher's. Starved to death,
one bastard child, nursed at the parish charge.
Still-born, in eggs of turkey, geese, ducks, and hens,
thirty-six. Drowned, nine puppies. Of wind in
the bowels, five bottles of small beer. I have not
yet seen the exact list of the parish-clerk; so that,
for a more particular account, we refer you to our
next.
We have nothing material as to the stocks, only
that Dick Adams was set in them last Sunday for
swearing.
GOD'S REVENGE AGAINST
PUNNING.
SHOWING
THE MISERABLE FATES OF PERSONS AD-
DICTED TO THIS CRYING SIN IN COURT AND TOWN.
MANIFOLD have been the judgments which heaven
from time to time, for the chastisement of a sinful
people, has inflicted on whole nations. For when
the degeneracy becomes common, 'tis but just the
punishment should be general. Of this kind, in our
own unfortunate country, was that destructive pes-
tilence whose mortality was so fatal as to sweep
away, if sir William Petty may be believed, five mil-
lions of christian souls, besides women and Jews.
Such also was that dreadful conflagration ensuing
in this famous metropolis of London which con-
sumed, according to the computation of sir Samuel
Morland, one hundred thousand houses, not to men-
tion churches and stables.
Scarce had this unhappy nation recovered these
funest disasters when the abomination of playhouses
rose up in this land; from hence hath an inundation
of obscenity flowed from the court and overspread
the kingdom; even infants disfigured the walls of
holy temples with exorbitant representations of the
members of generation; nay, no sooner had they
learnt to spell, but they had wickedness enough to
write the names thereof in large capitals; an enor-
mity observed by travellers to be found in no country
but England.
But when whoring and popery were driven hence
by the happy Revolution, still the nation so greatly
offended that Socinianism, Arianism, and Whiston-
ism triumphed in our streets, and were in a manner
become universal.
And yet still, after all these visitations, it has
pleased Heaven to visit us with a contagion more
epidemical, and of consequence more fatal: this was
foretold to us, first, by that unparalleled eclipse in
1714; secondly, by the dreadful coruscation in the
air this present year; and thirdly, by the nine comets
seen at once over Soho-square, by Mrs. Katharine
Wadlington and others; a contagion that first crept
in among the first quality, descended to their foot-
men, and infused itself into their ladies: I mean
the woful practice of PUNNING. This does occasion
the corruption of our language, and therein of the
word of God translated into our language, which
certainly every sober christian must tremble at.
Now such is the enormity of this abomination,
that our very nobles not only commit punning over
tea, and in taverns, but even on the Lord's day, and
in the king's chapel; therefore, to deter men from
this evil practice, I shall give some true and dreadful
examples of God's revenge against punsters.
The right honourable the earl of ~, but it is
not safe to insert the name of an eminent nobleman
in this paper, yet I will venture to say that such a
one has been seen, which is all we can say, consider-
ing the largeness of his sleeves; this young noble-
man was not only a flagitious punster himself, but
was accessory to the punning of others by consent,
by provocation, by connivance, and by defence of
the evil committed; for which the Lord mercifully
spared his neck, but as a mark of reprobation wryed
his nose.
Another nobleman of great hopes, no less guilty
of the same crime, was made the punisher of himself
with his own hand in the loss of five hundred pounds
at box and dice; whereby this unfortunate young
gentleman incurred the heavy displeasure of his aged
grandmother.
A third, of no less illustrious extraction, for the
same vice was permitted to fall into the arms of a
Dalilah, who may one day cut off his curious hair
and deliver him up to the Philistines.
Colonel F, an ancient gentleman of grave
deportment, gave in to this sin so early in his youth,
that whenever his tongue endeavours to speak com-
mon sense he hesitates so as not to be understood.
Thomas Pickle, gentleman, for the same crime
banished to Minorca.
Muley Hamet, from a healthy and hopeful officer
in the army, turned a miserable invalid at Tilbury
fort.
Eustace, esq., for the murder of much of the
king's English in Ireland, is quite deprived of his
reason, and now remains a lively instance of empti-
ness and vivacity.
Poor Daniel Button for the same offence deprived
of his wits.
One Samuel, an Irishman, for his forward attempt
to pun was stunted in his stature, and hath been
visited all his life after with bulls and blunders.
George Simmons, shoemaker, at Turnstile, in Hol-
born, was so given to this custom, and did it with so
much success, that his neighbours gave out he was
a wit. Which report coming among his creditors
nobody would trust him, so that he is now a bank-
rupt, and his family in a miserable condition.
Divers eminent clergymen of the University of
Cambridge, for having propagated this vice, became
great drunkards and Tories.
A Devonshire man of wit, for only saying in a
jesting manner I get up pun a horse, instantly fell
down and broke his snuff-box and neck, and lost the
horse.
"From which calamities the Lord in his mercy
defend us all, &c. &c." So prayeth the punless and
pennyless J. Baker, knight.
A TRUE AND FAITHFUL
NARRATIVE
OF WHAT PASSED IN LONDON DURING THE GENERAL
CONSTERNATION OF ALL RANKS AND DEGREES OF
MANKIND, ON TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY,
AND FRIDAY LAST.
ON Tuesday the 13th of October Mr. Whistonª held
a This conscientious and learned divine is well known by his
numerous writings, and by the "Memoirs of his own Life,"
written by himself and published in 1749. He died, in his 85th
year, Aug. 22, 1752.
A TRUE AND FAITHFUL NARRATIVE, &c.
841
his lecture near the Royal Exchange to an audience
of fourteen worthy citizens, his subscribers and con-
stant hearers. Besides these there were five chance
auditors for that night only, who had paid their
shillings apiece. I think myself obliged to be very
particular in this relation lest my veracity should be
suspected, which makes me appeal to the men who
were present, of which number I myself was one.
Their names are-
Henry Watson, haberdasher.
George Hancock, druggist.
John Lewis, drysalter.
William Jones, cornchandler.
Henry Theobald, watchmaker.
James Peters, draper.
Thomas Floyer, silversmith.
John Wells, brewer.
Samuel Greg, soapboiler.
William Cooley, fishmonger.
James Harper, hosier.
Robert Tucker, stationer.
George Ford, ironmonger.
Daniel Lynch, apothecary.
William Bennet,
David Somers,
Charles Lock,
Leonard Daval,
Henry Croft,
apprentices.
Mr. Whiston began by acquainting us that (con-
trary to his advertisement) he thought himself in
duty and conscience obliged to change the subject-
matter of his intended discourse. Here he paused,
and seemed for a short space, as it were, lost in de-
votion and mental prayer, after which, with great
earnestness and vehemence, he spake as follows:-
"Friends and fellow-citizens, all speculative sci-
ence is at an end; the period of all things is at hand:
on Friday next this world shall be no more. Put not
your confidence in me, brethren, for to-morrow
morning, five minutes after five, the truth will be
evident; in that instant the comet shall appear of
which I have heretofore warned you. As ye have
heard, believe. Go hence and prepare your wives,
your families, and friends for the universal change.'
At this solemn and dreadful prediction the whole
society appeared in the utmost astonishment: but it
would be unjust not to remember that Mr. Whiston
himself was in so calm a temper as to return a shilling
apiece to the youths, who had been disappointed of
their lecture, which I thought, from a man of his
integrity, a convincing proof of his own faith in the
prediction.
As we thought it a duty in charity to warn all
men, in two or three hours the news had spread
through the city. At first indeed our report met
with but little credit, it being by our greatest dealers
in stocks thought only a court artifice to sink them,
that some choice favourites might purchase at a
lower rate; for the South Sea that very evening fell
five per cent., the Indi eleven, and all the other
funds in proportion. But at the court end of the
town our attestations were entirely disbelieved or
turned into ridicule, yet nevertheless the news spread
everywhere and was the subject-matter of all con-
versation.
That very night (as I was credibly informed) Mr.
Whiston was sent for to a great lady who is very
curious in the learned sciences, and addicted to all
the speculative doubts of the most able philosophers,
but he was not now to be found; and since at other
times he has been known not to decline that honour,
I make no doubt he concealed himself to attend the
great business of his soul: but whether it was the
VOL. I.
lady's faith or inquisitiveness that occasioned her to
send is a point I shall not presume to determine.
As for his being sent for to the secretary's office by
a messenger, it is now known to be a matter notori-
ously false, and indeed at first it had little credit
with me that so zealous and honest a man should
be ordered into custody as a seditious preacher, who
is known to be so well affected to the present happy
establishment.
It was now I reflected, with exceeding trouble and
sorrow, that I had disused family prayers for above
five years, and (though it has been a custom of late
entirely neglected by men of any business or station)
I determined within myself no longer to omit so rea-
sonable and religious a duty. I acquainted my wife
with my intentions, but two or three neighbours
having been engaged to sup with us that night, and
many hours being unwarily spent at cards, I was
prevailed upon by her to put it off till the next day;
she reasoning that it would be time enough to take
off the servants from their business (which this prac-
tice must infallibly occasion for an hour or two every
day) after the comet had made its appearance.
Zachery Bowen, a quaker and my next neigh-
bour, had no sooner heard of the prophecy but he
made me a visit. I informed him of everything I
had heard, but found him quite obstinate in his un-
belief; for, said he, be comforted, friend, thy tidings
are impossibilities, for were these things to happen
they must have been foreseen by some of our breth-
ren. This indeed (as in all other spiritual cases with
this set of people) was his only reason against be-
lieving me; and as he was fully persuaded that the
prediction was erroneous, he in a very neighbourly
manner admonished me against selling my stock at
the present low price, which, he said, beyond dis-
pute must have a rise before Monday, when this un-
reasonable consternation should be over.
But on Wednesday morning (I believe to the exact
calculation of Mr. Whiston) the comet appeared; for
at three minutes after five by my own watch I saw
it. He indeed foretold that it would be seen at five
minutes after five; but as the best watches may be
a minute or two too slow, I am apt to think his cal-
culation just to a minute.
In less than a quarter of an hour all Cheapside
was crowded with a vast concourse of people, and
notwithstanding it was so early, it is thought that
through all that part of the town there was not man,
woman, or child, except the sick or infirm, left in
their beds. From my own balcony I am confident I
saw several thousands in the street, and counted at
least seventeen who were upon their knees, and
seemed in actual devotion. Eleven of them, indeed,
appeared to be old women of about fourscore; the
six others were men in advanced life, but (as I could
guess) two of them might be under seventy.
It is highly probable that an event of this nature
may be passed over by the greater historians of our
times, as conducing very little or nothing to the un-
ravelling and laying open the deep schemes of poli-
ticians and mysteries of state; for which reason I
thought it might not be unacceptable to record the
facts which in the space of three days came to my
knowledge, either as an eye-witness or from unques-
tionable authorities; nor can I think this narrative
will be entirely without its use, as it may enable us
to form a more just idea of our countrymen in gene-
ral, particularly in regard to their faith, religion,
morals, and politics.
Before Wednesday noon the belief was universal
that the day of judgment was at hand, insomuch
that a waterman of my acquaintance told me he
counted no less than one hundred and twenty-three
3 I
842
A TRUE AND FAITHFUL NARRATIVE, &c.
|
freedoms and little levities so commonly incident to
young ladies of their profession. So many birthday
suits were countermanded the next day, that most of
the tailors and mantuamakers discharged all their
clergymen who had been ferried over to Lambeth
before twelve o'clock; these it is said went thither
to petition that a short prayer might be penned and
ordered, there being none in the service upon that
occasion. But as in things of this nature it is ne-journeymen and women. A grave elderly lady of
cessary that the council be consulted, their request
was not immediately complied with, and this I affirm
to be the true and only reason that the churches
were not that morning so well attended, and is in
noways to be imputed to the fears and consternation
of the clergy, with which the freethinkers have since
very unjustly reproached them.
My wife and I went to church (where we had not
been for many years on a week-day), and with a
very large congregation were disappointed of the
service.
But (what will be scarce credible) by the care-
lessness of a 'prentice, in our absence we had a piece
of fine cambric carried off by a shoplifter, so little
impression was yet made on the minds of those.
wicked women!
་
I cannot omit the care of a particular director of
the bank; I hope the worthy and wealthy knight
will forgive me that I endeavour to do him justice;
for it was unquestionably owing to sir Gilbert Heath-
cote'sa sagacity that all the fire offices were required
to have a particular eye upon the bank of England.
Let it be recorded to his praise, that in the general
hurry this struck him as his nearest and tenderest
concern; but the next day in the evening, after
having taken due care of all his books, bills, and
bonds, I was informed his mind was wholly turned
upon spiritual matters, yet ever and anon he could
not help expressing his resentment against the Tories
and Jacobites, to whom he imputed that sudden run
upon the bank which happened on this occasion.
A great man (whom at this time it may not be
prudent to name) employed all the Wednesday morn-
ing to make up such an account as might appear fair
in case he should be called upon to produce it on the
Friday; but was forced to desist, after having for
several hours together attempted it, not being able
to bring himself to a resolution to trust the
many
hundred articles of his secret transactions upon
paper.
Another seemed to be very melancholy, which his
flatterers imputed to his dread of losing his power in
a day or two; but I rather take it that his chief con-
cern was the terror of being tried in a court that
could not be influenced, and where a majority of
voices could avail him nothing. It was observed,
too, that he had but few visitors that day. This add-
ed so much to his mortification, that he read through
the first chapter of the book of Job, and wept over
it bitterly; in short, he seemed a true penitent in
everything but in charity to his neighbour. No busi-
ness was that day done in his counting-house. It is
said too that he was advised to restitution, but I
never heard that he complied with it, any further
than in giving half-a-crown a-piece to several crazed
and starving creditors who attended in the outward
room.
Three of the maids of honour sent to countermand
their birthday clothes; two of them burnt all their
collections of novels and romances, and sent to a
bookseller's in Pall-mall to buy each of them a bible
and "Taylor's Holy Living and Dying." But I
must do all of them the justice to acknowledge that
they showed a very decent behaviour in the drawing-
room, and restrained themselves from those innocent
a Sir Gilbert Heathcote had before signalized his care for the
bank when in equal danger, by petitioning against the lord-
treasurer Godolphin's being removed as a measure that would
destroy the public credit.
great erudition and modesty, who visits these young
ladies, seemed to be extremely shocked by the appre-
hensions that she was to appear naked before the
whole world; and no less so, that all mankind was
to appear naked before her; which might so much
divert her thoughts as to incapacitate her to give
ready and apt answers to the interrogatories that
might be made her. The maids of honour, who had
both modesty and curiosity, could not imagine the
sight so disagreeable as was represented; nay, one
of them went so far as to say she perfectly longed
to see it; for it could not be so indecent when every-
body was to be alike; and they had a day or two to
prepare themselves to be seen in that condition.
Upon this reflection, each of them ordered a bathing-
tub to be got ready that evening, and a looking-glass
to be set by it. So much are these young ladies,
both by nature and custom, addicted to cleanly ap-
pearance.
A west-country gentleman told me he got a
church-lease filled up that morning for the same
sum which had been refused for three years success-
ively. I must impute this merely to accident; for I
cannot imagine that any divine could take the ad-
vantage of his tenant in so unhandsome a manner,
or that the shortness of the life was in the least his
consideration; though I have heard the same worthy
prelate aspersed and maligned since upon this very
account.
The term being so near, the alarm among the law-
yers was inexpressible, though some of them, I was
told, were so vain as to promise themselves some
advantage in making their defence by being versed
in the practice of our earthly courts. It is said, too,
that some of the chief pleaders were heard to express
great satisfaction that there had been but few state
trials of late years. Several attorneys demanded
the return of fees that had been given the lawyers;
but it was answered the fee was undoubtedly charged
to their client, and that they could not connive at
such injustice as to suffer it to be sunk in the attor-
neys' pockets. Our sage and learned judges had great
consolation, insomuch as they had not pleaded at the
bar for several years; the barristers rejoiced in that
they were not attorneys, and the attorneys felt no
less satisfaction that they were not pettifoggers,
scriveners, and other meaner officers of the law.
As to the army, far be it from me to conceal the
truth. Every soldier's behaviour was as undismayed
and undaunted as if nothing was to happen; I im-
pute not this to their want of faith, but to their
martial disposition; though I cannot help thinking
they commonly accompany their commands with
more oaths than are requisite, of which there was
no remarkable diminution this morning on the parade
in St. James's-park. But possibly it was by choice
and on consideration that they continued this way of
expression, not to intimidate the common soldiers, or
give occasion to suspect that even the fear of damna-
tion could make any impression upon their superior
officers. A duel was fought the same morning be-
tween two colonels, not occasioned (as was reported)
because the one was put over the other's head; that
being a point which might at such a juncture have
been accommodated by the mediation of friends;
but as this was upon the account of a lady, it was
judged it could not be put off at this time above all
others, but demanded immediate satisfaction. I am
apt to believe that a young officer, who desired his
A TRUE AND FAITHFUL NARRATIVE, &c.
843
surgeon to defer putting him into a salivation till
Saturday, might make this request out of some opi-
nion he had of the truth of the prophecy; for the
apprehensions of any danger in the operation could
not be his motive, the surgeon himself having assured
me that he had before undergone three severe ope-
rations of the like nature with great resignation and
fortitude.
There was an order issued that the chaplains of
the several regiments should attend their duty; but
as they were dispersed about in several parts of Eng-
land, it was believed that most of them could not be
found, or so much as heard of, till the great day was
over.
Most of the considerable physicians, by their out-
ward demeanour, seemed to be unbelievers; but at
the same time they everywhere insinuated that there
might be a pestilential malignancy in the air, occa-
sioned by the comet, which might be armed against
by proper and timely medicines. This caution had
but little effect; for as the time approached, the
christian resignation of the people increased, and
most of them (which was never before known) had
their souls more at heart than their bodies.
If the reverend clergy showed more concern than
others, I charitably impute it to their great charge of
souls; and what confirmed me in this opinion was,
that the degrees of apprehension and terror could be
distinguished to be greater or less according to their
ranks and degrees in the church.
The like might be observed in all sorts of minis-
ters, though not of the church of England; the
higher their rank, the more was their fear.
I speak not of the court, for fear of offence; and I
forbear inserting the names of particular persons, to
avoid the imputation of slander; so that the reader
will allow the narrative must be deficient, and is
therefore desired to accept hereof rather as a sketch
than a regular circumstantial history.
I was not informed of any persons who showed
the least joy; except three malefactors who were
to be executed on the Monday following, and one
old man, a constant church-goer, who, being at the
point of death, expressed some satisfaction at the
news.
On Thursday morning there was little or nothing
transacted in 'Change-alley; there were a multitude
of sellers, but so few buyers that one cannot affirm
the stocks bore any certain price except among the
Jews, who this day reaped great profit by their in-
fidelity. There were many who called themselves
christians, who offered to buy for time; but as these
were people of great distinction, I choose not to men-
tion them, because in effect it would seem to accuse
them both of avarice and infidelity.
The run upon the bank is too well known to need
a particular relation; for it never can be forgotten
that no one person whatever (except the directors
themselves and some of their particular friends and
associates) could convert a bill all that day into
specie; all hands being employed to serve them.
In the several churches of the city and suburbs
there were seven thousand two hundred and forty-
five who publicly and solemnly declared before the
congregation that they took to wife their several
kept mistresses, which was allowed as valid marriage,
the priest not having time to pronounce the ceremony
in form.
|
lessly reported formerly to have done the same) did
it now in good earnest at St. James's-gate; as did
also at the Temple church several gentlemen who
frequent coffeehouses near the bar. So great was the
faith and fear of two of them that they dropped dead
on the spot; but I will not record their names, lest
I should be thought invidiously to lay an odium on
their families and posterity.
Most of the players who had very little faith
before were now desirous of having as much as they
could, and therefore embraced the Roman catholic
religion: the same thing was observed of some
bawds and ladies of pleasure.
An Irish gentleman out of pure friendship came
to make me a visit, and advised me to hire a boat
for the ensuing day, and told me that unless I gave
earnest for one immediately he feared it might be too
late; for his countrymen had secured almost every
boat upon the river, as judging that, in the general
conflagration, to be upon the water would be the
safest place.
There were two lords and three commoners who,
out of scruple of conscience, very hastily threw up
their pensions, as imagining a pension was only an
annual retaining bribe. All the other great pen-
sioners I was told had their scruples quieted by a
clergyman or two of distinction, whom they happily
consulted.
It was remarkable that several of our very richest
tradesmen of the city in common charity gave away
shillings and sixpences to the beggars who plied
about the church-doors; and at a particular church
in the city a wealthy churchwarden with his own
hands distributed fifty twelvepenny loaves to the
poor, by way of restitution for the many great and
costly feasts which he had eaten of at their ex-
pense.
Three great ladies, a valet-de-chambre, two lords,
a customhouse-officer, five half-pay captains, and a
baronet (all noted gamesters), came publicly into a
church at Westminster, and deposited a very con-
siderable sum of money in the minister's hands; the
parties whom they had defrauded being either out of
town or not to be found. But so great is the hard-
ness of heart of this fraternity, that among either the
noble or vulgar gamesters (though the profession
is so general) I did not hear of any other restitu-
tion of this sort. At the same time I must observe
that (in comparison of these), through all parts of
the town, the justice and penitence of the highway-
men, housebreakers, and common pickpockets were
very remarkable.
The directors of our public companies were in
such dreadful apprehensions that one would have
thought a parliamentary inquiry was at hand; yet
so great was their presence of mind, that all the
Thursday morning was taken up in private trans-
fers, which by malicious people was thought to be
done with design to conceal their effects.
I forbear mentioning the private confessions of
particular ladies to their husbands; for as their chil-
dren were born in wedlock, and of consequence are
legitimate, it would be an invidious task to record
them as bastards; and particularly after their several
husbands have so charitably forgiven them.
The evening and night through the whole town
were spent in devotions both public and private;
the churches for this one day were so crowded by
the nobility and gentry, that thousands of common
people were seen praying in the public streets. In
short, one would have thought the whole town had
At St. Bride's church in Fleet-street Mr. Woolston
(who writ against the miracles of our Saviour), in
the utmost terrors of conscience, made a public re-
cantation. Dr. Mandevillea (who had been ground-been really and seriously religious. But what was
a Author of the fable of the Bees, a deistical work, the de-
sign of which was to prove that private vices are public benefits.
very remarkable, all the different persuasions kept
by themselves, for, as each thought the other would
844.
A TRUE AND FAITHFUL NARRATIVE, &c.
be damned, not one would join in prayer with the
other.
At length Friday came, and the people covered all
the streets; expecting, watching, and praying. But
as the day wore away their fears first began to abate,
then lessened every hour; at night they were almost
extinct, till the total darkness that hitherto used to
terrify, now comforted every freethinker and atheist.
Great numbers went together to the taverns, bespoke
suppers, and broke up whole hogsheads for joy.
The subject of all wit and conversation was to
ridicule the prophecy and rally each other. All the
quality and gentry were perfectly ashamed, nay,
some utterly disowned that they had manifested any
signs of religion.
But the next day, even the common people as well
as their betters appeared in their usual state of indif-
ference. They drank, they whored, they swore, they
lied, they cheated, they quarrelled, they murdered.
In short, the world went on in the old channel.
I need not give any instances of what will so
easily be credited; but I cannot omit relating that
Mr. Woolston advertised in that very Saturday's
"Evening Post" a "New Treatise against the Miracles
of our Saviour;" and that the few who had given up
their pensions the day before solicited to have them
continued; which, as they had not been thrown up
upon any ministerial point, I am informed was
readily granted.
END OF VOLUME I.
薯
​LONDON: -Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES and SONS, Stamford-Street.
1