LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Fifth Series, No. 2050. October 6, 1883. Volume XLIV. I From Beginning, Vol. CLIX. CONTENT S. I. DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND II. ALONG THE SILVER STREAK. Part VII., III. SOME PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF MA. - DAME MOHL IV. TOWN MOUSE AND COUNTRY MOUSE. Con clusion,. . . V. IVAN TOURGENIEF, . . VI. THE RABBIT PEST IN AUSTRALASIA, Quarterly Review, All The Year Round, Macmillans Magazine, Temple Bar,. Spectator, Carsell.r Magazine, P 0 E T R Y. DANDIES LAST JOURNEY, . . 21 OLD LETTERS 2 MISCELLANY . . a . . 64 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LIT TELL & CO., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. iror EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year,freeofA~siege. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money shouldbe sent in a registered letter. Ailpostmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, s8 cents. .3 33 39 49 . . 59 6z 2 DANDIE S LAST JOURNEY, ETC. DANDIES LAST JOURNEY. Dandie speaks. OF my travels do you ask me? Do you sari- ously task me To rub up my geography, and tell where I have been? Would it really make you merrier, if a Dandie Dinmont terrier V~Tere to make your muzzles water with the wonders he has seen? I think, in spite of cavils, a well-bred dog who travels May prove a better traveller than some who hold him cheap; If he takes discomfort coolly, responds to kind- ness duly, And when theres nothing else to do goes quietly to sleep. By railway and by steamer was I thus a peace- ful dreamer, Only waking~ when they summoned me in places new and strange. No matter where they took me, my courage neer forsook me; I knew my loved ones guarded me, and love can never change! Oh, the memories that waken of the rambles we have taken Through cornfields, wood, and meadow, knee-deep in heath and fern! How we roamed about together, in the joyous summer weather Of those glad days I dream about that never can return! But you ask me, half in pity, how I liked that grand old city, So full of all the wonders that charm the good and wise; And a joy you never tasted you think was sadly wasted On a dog that has but instinct, his affection, and his eyes. Yet when you see me dreaming, Zsee the sun- light gleaming Where the springtide glows like summer and the winter smiles like spring; Where the moonbeams fall so whitely, where the fountains play so brightly, And everywhere, for praise or prayer, you hear the church-bells ring. But that which you call history is to us both a mystery: I do not know the things that were you know not what will be; And if to you be given more wondrous powers from Heaven, You do not know what earth can show, and oft has shown to me. You cannot hear the voices at which my heart rejoices The whispers of creation and of those who sang its birth; You little think how often, some creatures lot to soften, We see the white-robed messengers come down upon the earth! If to us no mystic pages may unroll the lore of ages, Yet natures gracious teaching is for us as well as you; And I saw Romes truest glory, beyond all song or story, When her sunset showed its crimson-.--her sky its deep, dark blue. I have trod the wide Campagna (the Piazza, too, di Spagna), In the fair Borghese Gardens I have scam- pered at my will; I have drunk of Trevis fountain, I have seen Soractes mountain, And watched St. Peters, throned in light, from the famed Pincian Hill. But when your ey~s ar~e closing, and your stiff limbs need reposing, What suits you best are home and rest; and those Ive found once more; And the tender touch of greeting and the joy of happy meeting Add brightness to the memory of all that went before. Yes,my travels now are ending and my sun is fast descending; But those I love are near me, and how can I repine? May all who read my verses be as rich in friends and nurses, And find their own last journey end as peacefully as mine! Good Words. ANNA H. DRURY. OLD LETTERS. Iv seems but yesterday she died, but years Have passed since then; the wondrous change of time Makes great things little, little things sublime, And sanctifies the dew of daily tears. She died, as all must die; no trace appears In historys page, nor save in my poor rhyme, Of her, whose life was love, whose lovely prime Passed sadly where no sorrows are, nor fears. It seems but yesterday; to-day I read A few short letters in her own dear hand, And doubted if twere true. Their tender grace Seems radiant with her life! Oh! can the dead Thus in their letters live? I tied the band, And kissed her name as though I kissed her face. LORD ROSSLYN. DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. 3 From The Quarterly Review. DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND.* MORE than a year ago we commenced a sketch of the literary and political life of Swift.j- We were then obliged to break off when our task was only half accom- plished; we now propose to return to the subject, and to complete our study. But before resuming our own narrative we have a very pleasing duty to perform. Since the appearance of the first part of this article three contributions of singular interest and value have been added to the literature which has gathered round the great dean. First in importance stands the biography by Henry Craik. This work is in many respects greatly superior to any preceding biography. It is more accurate, more critical, and much fuller, than the memoir by Scott. It is written with more spirit, and it is executed with greater skill, than the memoir by Monck Mason. It is, moreover, enriched with material to which neither Scott nor Monck Mason had access, and which is altogether new; such, for example, would be the diary kept by Swift at Holyhead, printed by Mr. Craik in his appendix; such would be the correspondence between Swift and Archdeacon Walls, furnished by Mr. Murray; and such would be the Orrery papers, furnished by the Earl of Cork. Of Mr. Craiks industry and accuracy we cannot speak too highly. It is abun- dantly evident from every chapter in his work that he has left no source of infor- mation unexplored, from the local gossip of places where traditions of Stvift still linger, to the archives of private families and public institutions. Where 1\Ir. Craik seems to us to fail is in precision and grasp. His narrative too often de- generates into mere compilation. It lacks perspective and it lacks symmetry. We cannot but think toothough we are ex- tremely unwilling to find faults in a ~vork for which every student of Swift will as- suredly be most sincerely thankful that * r. The L~/e of ~aaa/kanS~ i/I. By Henry Craik, MA London, 1S82. 2. SwJ/. By Leslie Stephen. English Men of Letters. London, 1882. 3. Dean Swfis Disease. By Dr. Bucknill, F.R.S. Brain. London, January, 1882. I LIVING AGE, No. 1981, June IG~ 1882. its value would have been greatly en- hanced had Mr. Craik been a little less inattentive to the graces of style. That Mr. Craik has not succeeded in throwing any new light on the various problems which perplex Swifts biography is to be regretted, but cannot, in fairness, be im- puted as a fault to him. The portion of his work which will be perused with most interest by those who are familiar with former biographies, will probably be that in which. he discusses Swifts relations with Walpole, with Primate Boulter, and with the Irish Church. The pleasure with which we have read Mr. Leslie Stephens monograph has been not un mingled with disappointment. Like everything he writes, it is incisive, forci- ble, and eminently interesting. But it is plain that the dean is no favorite with him. He is too sensible and too well in- formed to be guilty either of misrepresen- tation or of errors in statement, and yet, without misrepresentation or misstate- ment, he contrives to do Swift signal in- justice. We will illustrate what ~ve mean. The period in Swifts career during which he appears to least advantage would cer- tainly be the period intervening between his ordination and the accession of George I., in other words, the period during which he was seeking preferment. On the other hand, the period which does him most honor would be that during which he was laboring in the cause of Ire- land. Of the first of these periods Mr. Stephen gives us a minute and elaborate history: of the second, his account is so meagre and so perfunctory, that a reader who knew nothing more of Swifts career in Ireland than what lie derived from Mr. Stephens narrative, would assuredly have very much to learn. It was said of Mal- let, that if lie undertook the life of Marl- borough, lie would probably forget that his hero was a general: it may be said of Mr. Stephen, that if lie has not exactly forgotten that Swift was a patriot and philanthropist, he has done his best to conceal it. This brings us to Dr. Bucknills re- markable paper on the nature of Swifts disease. We have read nothing that has been written on that perplexed and much- 4 DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. discussed question which appears to us so satisfactory. In the first place, Dr. Bucknill comes forward with no mere hypothesis. The history of Swifts case is, he says, sufficiently full and explicit to enable him, even at this distance of time, to form with confidence a diagnosis; and that diagnosis, together with the grounds on which it is based, he has in the paper to which we have referred given to the world. As the subject is necessarily a somewhat painful one, and as it is more- over a subject likely to be of interest rather to sl)ecial students of S~vift than to the general reader, we have relegated its discussion to a note; and the note will be found at the end of this article. XVe left Swift on the point of settling down as Dean of St. Patricks. The cir- cumstances under which he entered on his new duties were sufficiently inauspi- cious. It was well known that he had been one of the chief supporters of the last ministry, and that his preferment had been the price of his services. In Dub. lin, where the Whigs were as three to one, the downfall of the Tories had been hailed with savage glee. Indeed, of all the sects into which Irish politicians were divided and subdivided, it may be ques- tioned whether there was one which re- garded with much favor the party to which Swift had attached himself. The victory gained by the Whigs was cele- brated as such victories always were cel- ebrated. On Swifts head broke in full force the storm of obloquy which was overwhelming his friends in England. Libels taunting him with Popery and Jaco- bitism freely circulated among the vul- gar. He was hustled and pelted in the street. One miscreant, an Irish noble- man, assaulted him with such ferocious violence, that he presented a petition, which is still extant, appealing for protec- tion to the House of Peers. For some months he went in fear of his life, and he never ventured to show himself even in the principal thoroughfares without an es- cort of armed servants. And these were not his only troubles. He was on bad terms with his chapter; he was on bad terms with the archbishop. He was in wretched health, and in still more wretch- ed spirits. His feelings found vent in a copy of verses, which are inexpressibly sad and touching. Meanwhile, evil tidings were arriving by every post from England. First came the news of the flight of Bolingbroke; then came ~he news of the impeachment and imprisonment of Oxford; and lastly, the still more incredible intelligence, that Ormond had declared for the Pretender, and was in France. Under these stun- ning blows Swift acted as none but men on whom nature has been lavish of heroic qualities are capable of acting. It was now plain that all who had been in the confidence of the late ministry were in great danger, and that, unless they were prepared to fare as their leaders had fared, it behoved them to walk warily. A vin- dictive faction in the flush of triumph is, as Swift well knew, in no mood for nice distinctions between guilt presumptive and guilt established. He was, moreover, well aware that rumor had already been busy with his name, and that his enemies were watching with malignant vigilance for anything which he might do or say to compromise himself. But all this was as nothing. Neither self-interest nor fear had any influence on his loyal and daunt- less spirit. He ~vrote off to Oxford, not merely expressing his sympathy, but im- ploring permission to attend him in the Tower. It is the first time, he said, that I ever solicited you in my own be- half, and if I am refused, it will be the first request you ever refused me. He braved the suspicions, nay more, the peril, to which a confidential correspon- dence with the families of Bolingbroke and Ormond, when the one had become the secretary and the other the chief general of the Pretender, exposed him. We are told that when the Ulster king-of arms attempted, on the attainder of the duke, to remove the escutcheons of the Or- monds, vhich hung in St. Patricks Cathe- dral, Swift sternly bade him begone, for as long as I am dean, he thundered out, I will never permit so gross an indignity to be offered to so noble a house. It was not likely that he could act thus with impunity, and it appears from a letter of Archbishop King, dated May, 1715, and DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. from one of his own letters to Atterbury, dated April, 1716, that he was twice in danger of arrest. His conduct at this crisis was the more honorable to him, as it sprang solely from the purest of motives, from a chivalrous sense of what is due to friends and ben- efactors, and especially to friends and benefactors in misfortune. Some writers have, it is true, imputed his conduct, as hostile contemporaries imputed it, to less worthy motives. But it would be mere waste of words to discuss their state- ments - Nothing we know of Swift is more absolutely certain than the fact, that so far from having any sympathy with the Pretender, he always regarded him with peculiar abhorrence. He denounced him in his correspondence, he denounced him in his conversation, he denounced him in his public writings. I always professed, he says in one of his familiar letters, to be against the Pretender, because I look upon his coming as a greater evil than we are likely to suffer under the worst Whig government that can be found. In the crisis of 1714, when it is not perhaps too much to say that his pen might have turned the scale in Jamess favor, he was among the most acriminious and vehe- ment of anti-Jacobites. Indeed, his feel- ngs on this subject were so well known, that both Oxford and Bolingbroke studi- ously concealed from him their necrotia. tions with St. Germains, and, as his Historical Memoirs show, he had never even a suspicion of the intrigues, the existence of which the Stuart Papers have in our time placed beyond doubt.* His pen meanwhile was not idle. In his letter to Oxford he had promised that, though the rage of faction had rendered contemporaries deaf and blind, future ages should at all events know the truth. * To the end of his life Swift contended that there was no design on the part of Annes last ministry to bring in the Pretender; how effectually Harley and Bolingbroke had concealed their intrigues from him is clear from the deans letter to the Archbishop of Dub- lin, Dec. [6, 1716. Had there been even the least overture or intent of bringing in the Pretender, I think I roost have been very stupid not to have picked out some discoveries or suspicions. And although I am not sore that I should have turned informer, yet I am certain I should have dropped some general cautions, and immedia/ely have rehred. S With this view, he drew up the Memoirs relating to that change which happened in the Queens Ministry in the Year 1710, a pamphlet in which, in a clear and tem- perate narrative, he explains the circum- stances under which he had himself first engaged in politics, as well as the revolu- tion which brought his party into power. On the completion of the Memoirs they are dated on the manuscript October, 1714he began the Enquiry into the Behavior of the Queens Last Ministry. This is a work of great interest and value. With a firm and impartial hand he traces the history of those fatal feuds which had cost himself and his friends so dear. He makes no attemptand it is greatly to his honor to palliate what was reprehen- sible in his own party, he makes no at- tempt to exaggerate what was reprehen- sible in their oppoments. The prejudice of friendship is discernible perhaps in the portraits of Oxford, Bolingbroke, and Ormond, but it is a prejudice which ex- tends no further than their personal char- acters. As public men, no more is assigned to them than is their due. They are as freely censured as their neighbors. Indeed, the pamphlet is distinguished throughout by a spirit of candor not to be mistaken. But his most elaborate contribution to contemporary history was a work which had been all but completed before he left London the Memoirs of the Last Four Years of the Queen. It was commenced at Windsor probably in 1713, and was, in effect, a vindication of the Treaty of Utrecht. Nothing he ever wrote seems to have given him so much satisfaction. He always described it as the best thing he had done, and it is certain that he ex- pended more time and labor on it than he was in the habit of expending on any of his literary compositions. But the work, as it now appears, is so inferior to what might have been expected from Swifts account of it, that it has been sometimes doubted whether what we have is from the deans hand. It was first given to the world under circumstances certainly suspicious. It was not published until thirteen years after his death. It was not printed from the original manuscript. 6 DEAN SWIFT IN 1RELAN~. It was not edited by any member of his vert the vexation of former thoughts and family, or by any one having authority present objects. He gardened and saun- from his executors. It was printed by tered; he turned over the Greek and Ro- an anonymous editor from a copy sur- man classics; lie bandied nonsense with reptitiously taken by an anonymous Sheridan and Esther Johnson; he went friend. And yet we have no more doubt through a course of ecclesiastical history; of its genuineness than we have of the lie dabbled in mathematics. Thus much genuineness of Gulhivers Travels. the ~vorld saw: thus much he imparted One piece of evidence alone seenis to us with all the garruhity of Montaigne and conclusive. In 1738 the original manu- Walpole to the friends who exchanged script was read by Erasmus Lewis, Lord letters with him. But there were troub- Oxford, and others, in conclave, with a les troubles which must at this time view to discussing the propriety of its have been weighing heavily on his mind publication. Their opinion was that it which were little suspected by the contained several inaccuracies of state- world, and from which he never raised ment, and those inaccuracies Lewis, in a the veil even to those who knew him letter to Swift it may be found in Swifts best. correspondence categorically pointed Shortly after his arrival in London, in out. Now a reference to tVie printed the autumn of 1710, he had renewed his ac- memoirs will show that they contain the quaintance with a lady of the name of Van- identical errors detected by Lewis and his hiomrigh. Her husband, originall yamer~ friends jn Swifts manuscript. Again, chant of Amsterdam, but subsequently the those portions in the manuscript narra- holder of lucrative offices under the gov- tive, which Lewis describes as most en- eminent of William III., had died some tertaining and instructive, are precisely years before, leaving her in easy circum- those portions in the printed work which stances, with a family of two sons and two are undoubtedly best entitled to that dau~hiters. Her house was in Bury praise. Nor is there anything improba. Street, St. Jamess, within a few paces of ble in the assertion of the editorone Swifts lodgings. Mrs. Vanhommighi ~vas Lucasthat he printed the work from fondindeed, inordinately fond of a transcript of the original manuscript, society, and, as she was not only well- for the original manuscript, as we know connected and hospitable, but the mother from Dean Swift, circulated freely among of two charming ~irls in the bloom of Swifts friends in Dublin. It is certain youth, she had no difficulty in gratifying that Nugent, Dr. William King, and her whim. Among her male guests she Orrery, had perused that manuscript, and could number such distinguished men as that they were alive when the printed Sir Andrew Fountaine. Among her fe- work appeared; it is equally certain that male visitors were to be found some of none of them expressed any doubt of the most attractive and most accomplished the genuineness of the printed memoirs, young women in England. There ap- though those memoirs attracted so much pears, indeed, to have been no more attention that they were printed by instal- pleasant lounge in London than the little ments in the Gentlemans AJa~azine. drawing-roon~ in Bury Street. This Swift That Swift should himself have attached soon discovered. Within a few months so much importance to the work, is sin- lie had come to be regarded almost as a gular, for it is in truth little more than member of the family. He took hiis coffee what it was originally intended to bea there of an afternoon; hie dropped in, as party pamphlet, the humor took him, to breakfast or din- Swifts life during these years is me- ner; his best gown and his best wig were flected very faithfully in his correspon- deposited there; and when a friend sent dence. It was passed principally in the him a flask of choice Florence orahiaunch discharge of his clerical duties, which hie of venison, it was shared with his hospi- performed with scrupulous conscientious- table neighbors. Wi th the young ladies, ness; in improving the glebe of Laracor; Miss Esther, who had not yet completed in endeavoring to come to an understand- her twentieth year, and Miss Molly, who ing with the archbishop, on the one hand, was a year or two younger, he was a great and with his rebellious chapter on the favorite. No nian thought more highly of other; and in devising means for escaping the moral and intellectual capacities of from hiniself, and from the daily annoy- women than Swift, and nothing gave him ances to which his position exposed him, so much pleasure as superintending their I am, he writes to Bohingbroke, forced education. What lie had done for Esther into the most trifling amusements, to di- Johnson he now aspired to do for the Miss DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. Vanhomrighs, and, as he found his new pupils as eager to receive as he was to impart instruction, he devoted himself with assiduity to his pleasant task. So passed partly in the innocent frivolities of social gatherings, and partly in the graver intercourse of teacher and pupil two happy years. But towards the end of 1712, Swift suddenly perceived, to his great embarrassment, that the elder of the two sisters had conceived a violent pas- sion for him. The unhappy girl, whohad, as she well knew, received no encourage- ment, struggled for a while, with maiden modesty, to conceal her feelin~s. At this point it would have been well, perhaps, if Swift had found some means of withdraw og. But he probably judged all women from the standard of Esther Johnson. She, too, had at one time entertained feel- ings for him which it was not in his power to return; but had, as soon as she saw that reciprocity of passion was hopeless, cheerfully accepted friendship for love. There was surely no reason to suppose that Miss Vanhomrigh would not consent to make the same compromise, when she ~vas convinced that there was the same necessity. All that was needed was a clear understanding between them. That understanding would, as time went on, be silently arrived at. But lie little knew the character of the woman with whom he had to deal. The less her passion was encouraged, the more it grew. The more eloquently he dilated on friendship, the more rapturously she declaimed on love. As he pleaded for the mind, she pleaded for the heart. So for some months they continued to play at cross-purposes, each perceiving, and each disregarding, the in- nuendoes of the other. At last the poor girl could bear her tortures no longer, and, becoming lost to all sense of feminine delicacy, threw herself at Swifts feet. And now commenced the really culpa- ble part of Swifts conduct. He ought at once to have taken a decisive step. He ought to have seen that there were only two courses open to him ; the one was to make her his wife, the other was to take leave of her forever. Unhappily, he did neither. He merely proceeded to apply particularly what before he had stated generally. He continued to enlarge on the superiority of friendship to love, and he ~vent on to describe the depth and sin- cerity of the friendship which he had long felt for her as for her passion so ran his reasoningit was a passing whim an unwelcome intruder into the paradise of purer joys. He could not return it no true philosopher would; he could offer instead all that made human intercourse most precious devoted aff ction ,~ rati- tude, respect, esteem. All his he con- trived to convey in such a manner as could not have indicted a wound even on the most sensitive pride. It was con- veyed perhaps conveyed for the first time in that exquisitely ~raceful and original poem which has made the name of Esther Vanbomrigh deathless. She could there read how Venus, provoked by the complaints which were daily reaching her about the degeneracy of the female sex, resolved to retrieve the reputation of that sex ; how, with this object, she called into being a matchless maid, who, to every feminine virtue, united every feminine grace and charm; how, not content with endowing her paragon with all that is proper to woman, the goddess succeeded by a stratagem in inducing Pallas to be- stow on her the choicest of the virtues proper to man; how I~allas, angry at being; deceived, consoled herself with the reflec- tion, that a being so endowed would be. little likely to prove obedient to the god- dess who had created her; how Vanessa,. for such was the peerless creatures name, did not for a while belie the expectations. of Pallas, but how at last she was attacked by treacherous Cupid in Wisdoms very stronghold. The flattered girl could then. follow in a transparent allegory the whole history of her relation with her lover,. sketched so delicately, and, at the same time, so humorously, that it must have. been impossible for her either to take of- fence or to miss his meaning. How grievously Swift had erred inthus tem- ptrizing, became every day more apl)arent.. It was in vain that he now began to ab- sent himself from Bury Street. It was in vain that in his letters he showed, in a manner not to be mistaken, that he had no ear for the language of love. In the summerof t7l4occurredan event which introduced further complications in this unhappy business. Mrs. Vanhom- righ died, leavin~ her affairs in a very embarrassed state. The daughters, who appear to have been on bad terms with their brother, applied for assistance to Swift; and Swift, who had at this time left London, was thus again forced into intimate relations with Esther. Nor was this all. By the terms of her fathers will she had become possessed of some prop. erty near Dublin, and Swift learned, to his intense mortification and perplexity, that, as there was now nothing to detain her in England, it was her intention to 7 8 DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. follow him to Ireland. I-fe at once wrote off, imploring her to be discreet, and pointing out how easily such a relation as theirs might be misinterpreted by censo- rious people. Dublin, he said, was not a place for any freedom; everything that happened there was known in a week, and everything that was kno~vn was exagger- ated a hundredfold. If, he added, you are in Ireland while I am there, I shall see you very seldom. But all was of no avail, and, a few weeks after his ar- rival in Dublin, Esther and her sister were in lodgings within a stones throw of the deanery. Swifts position was now perplexing in the extreme. By every tie but one which can bind man to woman, he was bound to Esther Johnson. For more than thirteen years she had been a portion of his life. She had been the partner of his most se- cret thoughts; she bad been his solace in gloom and sorrow; she had been his nurse in sickness. In return for all this she had claimed neither to bear his name nor to share his fortune: she had been satisfied with his undivided affection. As yet nothing had arisen to disturb their sweet and placid intercourse. Indeed, he had been so careful to abstain from anything which could cause her uneasiness, that in his letters from London he had never even alluded to his intimacy with Esther Vanhomrigh; and poor Stella, little sus- pecting the presence of a rival, was now in the first joy of having her idol again at her side. For a while he nursed the hope that Miss Vanhomrigh would, on seeing that he absented himself from her society, withdraw from Dublin. He was soon un- deceived. The more he left her to her- self, the more importunate she became. The letters addressed by her at this period to Swift have been preserved, and exhibit a state of mind which it is both terrible and pitiable to contemplate. How deeply Swift was affected by them, and with what tenderness and delicacy he acted under these most trying circum- stances, is evident from his replies. One of these replies we transcribe : I will see you in a day or two, and believe me it goes to my soul not to see you oftener. I will give you the best advice, countenance, and assistance I can. I would have been with you sooner if a thousand impediments had not prevented me. I did not imagine you had been under difficulties. I am sure my whole fortune should go to remove them. I cannot see you to-day, I fear, having affairs of my own place to do, but pray think it not want of friend- ship or tenderness, which I will always continue to the utmost. At last she left Dublin and removed to Celbridge. There, in seclusion, she con- tinued to cherish her hopeless passion; there Swift for some years regularly cor- responded with her and occasionally visited her; and there, in 1723, while still in the bloom of womanhood, she died. This is a melancholy story, but it is, as we need scarcely say, a story little likely to lose in the telling, and peculiarly sus- ceptible of prejudiced distortion. It be- hoves us, therefore, before passing judg- ment on Swifts conduct, to distinguish carefully between ~vhat has been asserted and what has been proved, between what rests on mere conjecture and what rests on authentic testimony. Now we may say at once, that all that is certainly known of his connection with Esther Van- homrigh, is what may be gathered from the letters that passed between them, and from his own poem of Cadenus and Va- nessa, and all that can be safely conjec- tured is that, when they finally parted, they parted abruptly and in anger. This ex- hausts the evidence on which we can fair- ly rely in judging Swift; but this is very far from exhausting theevidenceonwhich the world has judged him. First came the almost incredibly malignant perver- sions of Orrery. Then came the loose and random gossip of Mrs. Pilkington and Thomas Sheridan. Out of these, and similar materials, Scott wove his dramatic narrative; not, indeed, with any prejudice against Swift, but doing him gre at injus- tice by disseminating stories eminently calculuted to prejudice others against him. Thus he tells, and tells most impressively, a story which, if true, would justify us in believing the very worst of Swift. Esther Vanhomrigh so the story runs having discovered his intimacy with Stella, wrote to her, requesting to know the nature of her connection with Swift. Stella, indig- nant that such a question should be put to her, placed the letter in Swifts hands. Swift instantly rode off in a paroxysm of fury to Celbrid,,e, and, and abruptly enter- ing the room where Miss Vanhomrigh ~vas sitting, flung the letter angrily on the table, and then, without saying a word, remounted his horse and galloped back to Dublin. From that moment he was a stranger to her. In a few weeks Vanessa was in her grave. The authority cited for this anecdote is Sheridan, who wrote nearly sixty years after the event he nar- rates; who is confessedly among the most inaccurate and uncritical of Swifts biog- raphers; whose habit of grossly exagger- ating whatever he described is notorious, DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. and who has been more than once sus- pected of enlivening his pages with de- liberate fabrications. In the present case, however, he had contented himself with embellishment; for the story had been already told, first by Orrery, in whose hands it had assumed an entirely differ- ent form, and secondly by Hawkesworth, who merely copied what he found in Or- rery. What Orrery says is, that Vanessa wrote, not to Stella, but to Swift; and that the object of her letter was, not to as- certain the nature of Swifts connection with her rival, but to ascertain his inten- tions with regard to herself; in other words, to insist on knowing whether it was his intention to make her his wife. Why the letter, which he describes as a very tender one it would be interesting to know how he could have seen it should have had such an effect on Swift, he has not condescended to explain. But Orrerys whole story is not only in itself monstrously improbable, but it rests on his own unsupported testimony; and on the value of Orrerys unsupported testi- mony it is scarcely necessary to comment. Such is the evidence in support of one of the gravest of the charges which have been brought against Swift, with respect to Vanessa. Again, Scott asserts, still following Sheridan, that, on hearing of Miss Vanhomrighs death, Swift re- treated in an agony of self-reproach and remorse into the south of Ireland, where he spent two months, without the place of his abode being known to any one. Nothing can be more untrue. A refer- ence to his correspondence at this period will sho~v that he had long intended to take what he calls a southern journey; that many of his friends were acquainted with his movements; and that, so far from wishing to bury himself in solitude, he was extremely vexed that a clergyman, ~vho had promised to be his companion, disappointed him at the last moment. That Miss Vanhomrighs death deeply distressed him, is likely enough ; that it excited in him any such emotions as Scott and Sheridan describe, requires better proof than evidence which, on the only point on which it is capable of being tested, turns out to be false. To pass, however, from what is apocry- phal to what is authentic. A careful study of the letters which passed between Swift and Vanessa has satisfied us that his con- duct was, throughout, far less culpable than it would at first sight seem to have been. It resolves itself, in fact, into one great error. As soon as he discovered 9 that he had inspired a passion which he was unable to return, his intercourse with Miss Vanhomrigh should have immediate- ly ceased. All that followed, followed as the result of that error. And yet that error was, as his poem and correspon- dence clearly show, a mere error of judg- ment. Had he been aware that, by con- tinuing the intimacy, he ~vas pursuing a course which would be fatal to the girls happiness, he was either under the spell of a libertine passion, or he was a man of a nature inconceivably callous and brutal. That he was no libertine, is admitted even by those who have taken the least favora- ble view of his conduct; that he was nei- ther callous nor brutal, but, on the con- trary, a man pre-eminently distinguished by humanity and tenderness, is admitted by no one more emphatically than by Miss Vanhomrigh herself. The truth is, that he recognized no essential distinction be- tween the affection which exists between man and man, and the affection which ex- ists between man and woman. He knew, indeed, that in the latter case it frequent- ly becomes complicated with passion, but such a complication he regarded as purely accidental. It ~vas a mere excretion which, without the nutrition of sympathetic folly, would wither up and perish. It was a fault of the heart, which the head would and should correct. Hence he saw no necessity for breaking off a friendship which he valued. Hence the indifference, the easy jocularity, with which, after the first emotion of surprise was over, he per. sistently treated the poor girls rhapsodies. Time passed on, and before he could dis- cover his error it was too late to repair it. From the moment of Mrs. Vanhomrighs death he was, in truth, involved in a laby- rinth, out of which it was not merely diffi- cult, but simply impossible, to extricate himself. If he attempted, as he twice did attempt, to take the step to which duty pointed, entreaties which would have melted a heart far more obdurate than his, instantly recalled him. Could he leave a miserable girl such is the burden of the first appeal which was made to him to struggle alone with a wretch of a broth- er, cunning executors, and importunate creditors? Pray what, she asks, can be wrong in seeing and advising an unhappy young woman?, All I beg is, that you will for once counterfeit, since you cant do otherwise, that indulgent friend you once were, till I get the better of these difficulties. He assists her; he visits her; he sees her safely through her difficulties, and he again withdraws. Upon 10 DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. that, she breaks out into hysterical rav- ing, informs him that she had been on the point of destroying herself, and appeals to him in the most piteous terms to renew his visits. To this he replies in the letter which we have already quoted; and he grants the favor so importunately and in- delicately extorted. It is remarkable that throughout the whole correspondence she makes no attempt to conceal the fact that she is forcing herself upon him, frankly admitting over and over again that there had been nothing either in his actions or in his words to justify her conduct. We have searched carefully for any indica- tions of a belief, or even of a hint on her part, that she had been deceived or mis- led. Nothing of the kind is to be found. From beginning to end it is the same story; on the womans side, blind, uncon- trollable passion; on Swifts side, per- plexity, commiseration, undeviating kind- ness. Believe me, she says at the commencement of one of her letters, it is with the utmost regret that I now coin- plain to you, because I know your good nature that you cannot see any human creature miserable without being sensibly touched; yet what can I do? I must unload my heart. But she was not al- ways, it may be added, in the melting mood. Occasionally she expressed her- self in very different language. It is easy to conceive Swifts embarrassment on having the following missive handed in to him while entertaining a party of friends at the deanery: I believe you thought I only rallied when I told you the other night that I would pester you with letters. Once more I advise you, if you have any regard for your own quiet, to alter your behavior quickly, that is, to visit her more frequently, though he had already told her that scan- dal was beginning to be busy with their names, for I have too much spirit to sit down con- tented with this treatment. Pray think calmly of it Is it not better to come of yourself than to be brought by force, and that perhaps when you have the most agreeable engagement in the world [an allusion probably to Esther Johnson] for when I undertake anything, I dont love to do it by halves. In a letter ~vritten not long afterwards, he complains bitterly of the embarrass- ment which one of her communications had caused. I received your letter, he ~vrites, when some company was with me on Saturday, and it put me into such confusion, that I could not tell what to do. His patience was often, no doubt, severely tried, and his irritation appears occasionally to have found sharp expres- sion. But it is clear from his letters that until within a few months of Vanessas death he studied in every way to soothe and cheer her. What finally parted them we have now no means of knowing. That they parted in anger and were never af- terwards reconciled seems pretty certain. It is possible that the habits of intemper- ance, to which Miss Vanhomrigh latterly gave way, may have led to some action or some expression which Swift could neither pardon nor forget. Far be it from us to speak a harsh or disrespectful word of this unhappy wom- an. Never, perhaps, has the grave closed over a sadder or more truly tragical life. It is a story which no man of sensibility could possibly follow without deep emo- tion. But such emotion should not be permitted to blind us to justice and truth. We do most strongly protest against the course adopted by writers like Jeffrey and Thackeray, in treating of this portion of Swifts life. They assume that the meas- ure of Vanessas frenzy is the measure of Swifts culpability. They argue that, because she was infatuated, he was in- human. They print long extracts from her ravings, and then ask, with indigna- tion, whether there could be two opinions about the man whose conduct had wrought such wretchedness. Nor is it surprising that they should have carried their point. The world knows that, when women ad- dress men in such language as Vanessa addresses Swift, they are not as a rule taking the initiative; that if feminine passion is strong, feminine delicacy is stronger; and that nothing is more im- probable than that a young and eminently attractive woman should, for twelve years, continue, without the smallest en- courage ment, to force her love on a man ~vho, though double her age, was still in the prime of life. And yet this was most assuredly the case. We sincerely pity Vanessa, but we contend that there was nothing in Swifts conduct to justify the charges which hostile biographers have brought against him. Indeed, we feel strongly tempted to exclaim with honest Webster Condemn you him for that the maid did love him? So may you blame some fair and crystal river For that some melancholic distracted woman Hath drownd herself in t. But it is only right to say that those DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND~ ii who have judged him thus harshly have proceeded on an assumption which would, if correct, have greatly modified our own view of the question. If Swift was the husband of Esther Johnson, we admit, without the smallest hesitation, that his conduct was all that his enemies would represent it. It was at once cruel and mean; it was at once cowardly and treach- erous; it was at once lying and hypocriti- cal. In that case every visit he paid, every letter he wrote to Miss Vanhom- righ, subsequent to 1716, was derogatory to him. We will go further. In that case, we are prepared to believe the very worst of him, not only in his relations with Stella and Vanessa, but in his rela- tions with men and the world. In that case, there is no ambiguous action, either in his public or in his private career, which does not become pregnant with suspicion. For in that case, he stands convicted of having passed half his life in systemati- cally practising, and in compelling the woman he loved to practise systematically, the two vices, which of all vices he pro- fessed to hold in the deepest abhorrence. Those who know anything of Swift, know with what loathing he always shrank from anythin~ bearing the remotest resem- blance to duplicity and falsehood. As a political pamphleteer, he mi ~ht, like his brother penmen, allow himself license, but in the ordinary intercourse of life it was his habit to exact and assume abso- lute sincerity. It was the virtue, indeed, on which he ostentatiously prided himself; it was the virtue by which, in the opinion of those who were intimate with him, he was most distinguished. Dr. Swift may be described, observed Bolingbroke 5m one occasion, as a hypocrite reversed. In discussing, therefore, the question of his supposed marriage, the point at issue is not simply ~vhether he ~vas the husband of Esther Johnson, but whether ~ve are to believe him capable of acting in a manner wholly inconsistent with his principles and his reputation. In other words, whether we are to believe that a man whose scrupulous veracity and whose re- pugnance to untruth in any form were proverbial, would, with the object of con- cealing what there was surely no adequate motive for concealing, deliberately devise the subtlest and most elaborate system of hypocrisy ever yet exposed to the world. We will illustrate what we mean. It is scarcely necessary to remind our readers that the documents bearing on Swifts re- lations with Esther Johnson are very voluminous, and, from a biographical point of view, of unusual value. We have the verses which he was accustomed to send to her on the anniversary of her birthday. XVe have the journal addressed to her during his residence in London. We have allusions to her in his most secret memoranda. XVe have the letters written in agony to Worral, Stopford, and Sheri- dan, when he expected that every post would bring him news of her death. We have the prayers ~vhich he offered up at her bedside during her last hours; and we have the whole history of his acquaint- ance with her, written with his own hand while she was still lying unburied, a history intended for no eye but his own. Now, from the beginning to the end of these documents, there is not one line which could by any possibility be tortured into an indication that she was his wife. Throughout, the language is the same. He addresses her as the kindest and wisest of his friends. He described her in his memoir as the truest, most virtu- ous and valuable friend that I, or perhaps any other person, was ever blessed with. In all his letters he alludes to her in simi- lar terms. In the diary at Holyhead she is his dearest friend. At her bedside, when the end was hourly expected, he prays for her as his dear and useful friend. There is not, he writes to Dr. Stopford on the occasion of Stellas fatal illness, a greater folly than that of en- tering into too strict and particular friend- ship, with the loss of which a man must be absolutely miserable, but especially at an age when it is too late to engage in a new friendship besides, this was a per- son of my own rearing and instructing from childhood; but, pardon me, I know not what I am saying, but, believe me, that violent friendship is much more last- ing and engaging than violent love. If Stella was his wife, could hypocrisy go further?* It is certain that he not only led all who were acquainted with him to believe that he was unmarried, but when. ever he spoke of wedlock, he spoke of it Is it credible that a man could have addressed a woman who had, if the theory of the marriage is true, been his wife for four years, in lines like these lines, we may add, intended for no eyes but her own? Thou Stella wert no longer young When first for thee my harp was strung, Without one word of Cupids darts, Of killing eyes or bleeding hearts. With friendship and esteem possessd I neer admitted love a guest. In all the habitudes of life, The friend, the mistress, and the wife, Variety we still pursue, In pleacure seek for something new; Bot his pursuits are at an end Whom Stella chooses for a friend. 12 DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. as a thing utterly alien to his tastes and inclinations. I never yet, he once said to a gentleman who was speaking to him about marriage, saw the woman I would wish to make my wife. It would be easy to multiply instances, both in his corre- spondence and in his recorded conversa- tion, in which, if he vas even formally a married man, he went out of his way to indulge in unnecessary hyiocrisy. What, again, could be more improbable than that Esther Johnson, a woman of distinouished piety, nay a woman whose detestation of falsehood formed, as Swift has himself told us, one of her chief attractions, would, when on the point of death, preface her will with a wholly gratuitious lie ? For not only is that will signed with her maiden name, but in the first clause she describes herself as an unmarried woman. The external evidence against the mar- riage appears to us equally conclusive. If there was any person entitled to speak with authority on the subject, that person was assuredly Mrs. Dingley. For twenty- nine years, from the commencement, that is to say, of Swifts intimate connection with Miss Johnson till the day of Miss Johnsons death, she had been her insep- arable companion, her friend and confi- dante. She had shared the same lodg- ings with her; it was understood that Swift and Esther were to hav~ no secrets apart from her \Vhen they met, they met in her presence; what they wrote, passed, by Swifts special request, through her hands. Now it is well known that Mrs. Dingl ey was convinced that no mar- riage had ever taken place. The whole story was, she said, an idle tale. Two of Stellas executors, Dr. Corbet and Mr. Rochford, distinctly stated that no suspi- cion of a marriage had ever even crossed their minds, though they had seen the dean and Esther together a thousand times. Swifts housekeeper, Mrs Brent, a shrewd and observant woman, who resided at the deanery during the whole period of her masters intimacy with Miss Johnson, was satisfied that there had been no marriage. So said Mrs. Ridgeway, who succeeded her as housekeeper, and who watched over the dean in his declining years. But no testimony will, we think, be allowed to carry greater weight than that of I)r. John Lyon. He was one of Swifts most inti- mate friends, and when the state of the de~ens health was such that it had become necessary to place him under surveillance, Lyon was the person selected to under- take the duty. He lived with him at the deanery he had full control over his papers; he was consequently brought into contact with all who corresponded with him, and with all who visited him. He had thus at his command every contem- porary source of information. Not long after the story was first circulated, he set to work to ascertain, if possible, the truth. The result of his investigations was to convince him that there was abso- lutely no foundation for it but popular gossip, unsupported by a particle of evi- dence. Such is the evidence against the mar- riage. We will now briefly review the evidence in its favor. The first writer who mentions it is Orrery, and his words are these: Stella was the concealed but undoubted wife of Dr. Swift, and if my informations are right, she was married to him in the year 1716 by Dr. Ash, then Bishop of Clogher. On this we shall merely remark that he offers no proof whatever of what he asserts, thouTh he must have known well enough that what he asserted was contrary to current tradi- tion ; that in thus expressing himself he was guilty of gross inconsistency, as he had nine years before maintained the op- posite opinion ; * and that there is every reason to believe that he resorted to this fiction, as he resorted to other fictions, with the simple object of seasoning his narrative with the piquant scandal in which he notoriously delighted. The next deponent is Delany, whose independent testimony would, we admit, have carried great weight with it. But Delany simply follows Orrery, without explaining his reason for doing so, without bringing for- ward anything in proof of ~vhat Orrery had stated, and without contributing a single fact on his own authority. Such was the story in its first stage. In 1780 a new particular was added, and a new authority was cited. The new particular was, that the marriage took place in the garden; the new authority was Dr. Sam- uel Madden, and the narrator was Dr. Johnson. Of Madden it may suffice to say that there is no proof that he was acquainted either with Swift himself or with any member of Swifts circle; that in temper and blood he was half French, half Irish; and that as a writer he is chiefly known as the author of a work wilder and more absurd than the wildest and most absurd of Whistons prophecies, or As- gills paradoxes. On the value of the unsupported testimony of such a person * See his letter to Deane Swift, dated Dec. 4th, 1742; Scott, vol. xix., p. 336. DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. 3 there is surely no necessity for comment- ing. Next comes Sheridans account, which, as it adds an incident very much to Swifts discredit, it is necessary to ex- amine with some care. The substance of it is this. That, at the earnest solicita- tion of Stella, Swift consented to marry her: that the marriage ceremony was performed without witnesses, and on two conditions ; first, that they should con- tinue to live separately; and secondly, that their union should remain a secret: that for some years these conditions were observed, but that on her death-bed Stella implored Swift to acknowledge her as his wife; that to this request Swift made no reply, but, turning on his heel, left the room, and never afterwards saw her. The first part of this story he professes to have derived from Mrs. Sican, the sec- ond part from his father. We should be sorry to charge Sheridan with deliberate falsehood, but his whole account of Swifts relations with Miss Johnson teems with inconsistencies and improbabilities so glaring, that it is impossible to place the smallest confidence in what he says. He here tells us that the marriage had been kept a profound secret; in another place he tells us that Stella had herself com- municated it to Miss Vanhomrigh. He admits that the only unequivocal proof of the marriage is the evidence of Dr. Sheri- dan, and yet in his account of the mar- riage he cites as his authority, not Dr. Sheridan, but Mrs. Sican. But a single circumstance is, we think, quite sufficient to prove the utterly untrustworthy charac- ter of his assertions. He informs us, on the authority of his father, that Stella was so enraged by Swifts refusal to acknowl- edge her as his wife, that to sl)ite and annoy him she bequeathed her fortune to a public charity. A reference to Swifts correspondence * will show that it was in accordance with his wishes that she thus disposed of her property. A reference to the will itself will show that, so far from expressing ill-will towards him, she left him her strong box and all her papers. Nor is this all. His statement is flatly con- tradicted both by Delany and by Deane Swift. Delany tells us that he had been informed by a friend that Swift had ear- nestly desired to acknowledge the mar- riage, but that Stella had wished it to remain a secret. Deane Swift assured Orrery, on the authority of Mrs. White- way, that Stella had told Sheridan that Swift had offered to declare the marriage * See Swifts letter to Worral. dated July e5th, 1726. to the world, but that she had refused. Again, Sheridan asserts that his father, Dr. Sheridan, was present during the sup- posed conversation between Swift and Stella. Mrs. Whiteway, on the contrary, assured Deane Swift that Dr. Sheridan was not present on that occasion. This brings us to the last deponent whose evidence is worth consideration. In 1789 Mr. Monck Berkeley brought for. ward the authority of a Mrs. Hearne, who was, it seems, a niece of Esther Johnson, to prove that the dean had made Stella his wife. As nothing, however, is knowrl of the history of Mrs. Hearne, and as she cited nothing in corroboration of her statement, except vaguely that it was a tradition among her relatives a tradi- tion which was of course just as likely to have had its origin from the narratives of Orrery and Delany as in any authentic communication, no importance what- ever can be attached to it. But the evi- dence on which Monck Berkeley chiefly relied was not that of Mrs. Hearne. I was, he says, informed by the relict of Bishop Berkeley that her husband had as- sured her of the truth of Swifts marriage, as the Bishop of Clogher, who had per- formed the ceremony, had himself com- municated the circumstance to him. If this could be depended on, it would, of course, be of great importance. But, un- fortunately for Monck Berkeley, and for Monck Berkeleys adherents, it can be conclusively proved that no such commu- nication could have taken place. In 1715, a year before the supposed marriage was solemnized, Berkeley was in Italy, where he remained till 1721. Between 1716 and 1717 it is certain that the Bishop of Clogher never left Ireland, and at the end of 1717 he died. As for the testimony on which Scott lays so much stress, the story, we mean, about Mrs. Whiteway having heard Swift mutter to Stella that if she wished, it should be owned, and of hav- ing heard Stella sigh back to Swift that it was too late; we shall merely ob- serve, first, that it was communicated about ninety years after the supposed words had been spoken, not by the son of Mrs. Whiteway, who, had he known of it or had he attached the smallest impor- tance to it, would have inserted it in his Memoirs of Swift, but by her grand- son, Theophilus Swift, a person of no note and of no authority; secondly, it was ad- mitted that those words, and that those words only, had been heard, and that con- sequently there was nothing to indicate either that the words themselves, or that 4 DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. the conversation of which they formed a portion, had any reference to the mar- riage. How then stands the case? Even thus. Against the marriage we have the fact that there is no documentary evidence of its having been solemnized; that, so far from there being any evidence of it deducible from the conduct of Swift and Stella, Orrery himself admits that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to prove that they had ever been alone to- gether durin~, their whole lives. We have the fact, that Esther Johnson, at a time when there could have been no possible motive for falsehood, emphatically as- serted that she was unmarried: the fact, that Swift led every one to believe that he was unmarried: the fact, that Esther Johnsons bosom friend and inseparable companion was satisfied that there had been no marriage: the fact, that two of Swifts housekeepers, two of Stellas ex- ecutors, and Dr. Lyon, were satisfied that there had been no marriage. It is easy to say that all that has been advanced merely proves that the marriage was a secret, and that the secret was well kept. But that is no answer. The question must be argued on evidence; and it is in- cumbent on those who insist, in the teeth of such evidence as we have adduced, that a marriage was solemnized, to produce evidence as satisfactory. This they have failed to do.* Till they have done so, we decline to charge Swift with mendacity and hypocrisy, and to convict him of hav- ing acted both meanly and treacherously in his dealings with the two women whose names will, for all time, be bound up with his. In itself it matters not, as we need scarcely say, two straws to any one whether Swift was or was not the husband of Stella. But it matters, we submit, a great deal whether the world is to be jus- tified in casting a slur on the memory of an illustrious man. But to return from our long digression. In the summer of 1720 appeared the first of those famous pamphlets, which have made the name of Swift imperishable in Irish annals. It was entitled A Proposal for the Universal Use of Irish Manufac- tures, and its ostensible object was to induce the people of Ireland to rely en- tirely, so far at least as house furniture and wearing apparel were concerned, on their own industry and on their own prod- uce; and to close their markets against everything wearable which should be im- ported from England. In the first part of this proposal there was nothing new. It was merely the embodiment of a resolu- tion which had been repeatedly passed by the Irish House of Commons, and passed without opposition from the crown. We greatly doubt whether even the second part of the proposal, audacious thouceb it undoubtedly was, would in itself have pro- voked the English government to retali- ate. But the ostensible object of the pamphlet, as it requires very little pene- tration to see, was by no means its only or indeed its chief object. In effect it was a bitter protest against the inhuman- ity and injustice which had since i66~ characterized the Irish policy of England; and it was an appeal to Ireland to assert her independence in the only way in which fortune had as yet enabled her. Both as a protest and as an appeal, the pamphlet was equally justified. Even now, on recalling those cruel statutes, which completed between 1665 and 1699 the annihilation of Jrish trade, it is impos- sible not to feel something of the indigna- tion which burned in Swift. In i66o there was every prospect that in a few years Ireland might become a happy and prosperous country. Her natural advan- tages were great. In no regions within the compass of the British Isles was the soil more fertile. As pasture-land she was to the modern world, what Argos was to the ancient. She was not without nav- igable rivers; the ports and harbors with which nature had bountifully provided her were the envy of every maritime nation in Europe; and her geographical position was eminently propitious to commercial enterprise. For the first time in her his- tory she was at peace. The aborigines had at last succumbed to the Englishry. A race of sturdy and industrious colonists were rapidly changing the face of the country. Agriculture was thriving. A remunerative trade in live cattle and in miscellaneous farm produce had been opened with England; a still more re- munerative trade in manufactured wool was holding out prospects still more promising. There were even hopes of an extensive mercantile connection with the colonies. But the dawn of this fair day was soon overcast. Impelled partly by * We have read with care Mr. Craiks elaborate dis- jealousy, and partly by that short-sighted cussion in favor of the marriage. We can only say that selfishness which ~vas, in former days, so we are greatly surprised that Mr. Craik should, on such evidence as he there adduces, think himself justified in unhappily conspicuous in her commercial asserting confidently that the marriage took place. relations with subject States, England DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. is proceeded to the systematic destruction begun to do its revolting work, were de- of Irish commerce and of Irish industrial voured voraciously. Burdy tells us that art. First came the two statutes forbid- these famishing savages would surrepti- ding the importation of live cattle and tiously bleed the cattle which they had farm produce into England, and Ireland not the courage to steal, and, boiling the was at once deprived of her chief source of blood with sorrel, convert the sickening revenue. Then came the statutes which mixture into food. Epidemic diseases, annihilated her colonial trade. Crushing and all the loathsome maladies which and terrible though these blows were, she were the natural inheritance of men whose still, however, continued to struggle on, food was the food of hogs and jackals, crippled and dispirited indeed, but not en- whose dwellings were scarcelydistinguish- tirely without heart. But in 1699 was able from dunghills, and whose personal enacted the statute which completed her habits were filthy even to beastliness, ruin. By this she was prohibited from raged with a fury rarely witnessed in seeking any vent for her raw and manu- Western latitudes. Not less deplorable factured wool, except in England and vas the spectacle presented by the coun- Wales, where the duties imposed on both try itself. Whoever took a journey these commodities were so heavy as virtu- through Ireland, says Swift, would be ally to exclude them from the market. apt to imagine himself travelling in Lap- The immediate result of this atrocious land or Iceland. In the south, in the measure was to turn flourishing villages east, and in the west, stretched vast tracts into deserts, and to throw between twenty of land untilled and unpeopled, mere and thirty thousand able-bodied and in- waste and solitude. Even where Nature dustrious artisans on public charity. The had been most bounteous, the traveller ultimate result of all these measures was might wander for miles without finding a the complete paralysis of operative ener- single habitation, ~vithout meeting a sin- gy, the emigration of the only class who gle human being, without beholding a sin- were of benefit to the community, and gle trace of human culture. Many of the the commencement of a period of un- churches vere roofless, the walls still gap- precedented wretchedness and degrada- ing with the breaches which the cannon tion. of Cromwell had made in them. Almost The condition of Ireland between 1700 all the old seats of the nobility were in and 1750 was in truth such as no histo- ruins: In the villages and country towns, nan, who was not prepared to have his every object on which the eye rested told narrative laid aside with disgust and in- the same lamentable story. credulity, would venture to depict. If Much of this misery was undoubtedly analogy is to be sought for it, it must be to be attributed to the inhabitants them- ~sough tin the scenes through which, in the selves. Never had co-operation and con- frightful fiction of Monti, the disembod- cord been more necessary, but never had ied spirit of Bassville was condemned to civil and religious dissension raged with roam. In a time of peace the unhappy greater fury than it was raging now. island suffered all the most terrible ca- Feuds in religion, feuds in politics, feuds lamities which follow in the train of war. which had their origin in private differ- Famine succeeding famine decimated the ences, and feuds which had descended as provincial villages, and depopulated whole a cursed heirloom from father to child, regions. Travellers have described how rankled in their hearts and inflamed their their way has lain through districts strewn blood. There was the old enmity between like a battle-field with unburied corpses, the aborigines and the English. There ~vhich lay some in ditches, some on the was a deadly feud between the Catholics roadside, and some on heaps of offal, the and the Protestants; there was a feud not prey of dogs and carrion birds. Even less deadly between the Episcopalians and when there was no actual famine, the food the . Nonconformists, while the ~var be- of the rustic vulgar was often such as our tween Whig and Tory was prosecuted domestic animals would reject with dis- with a ferocity and malignity scarcely gust. Their ordinary fare was buttermilk human. There is hardly a Whig in Ire- and potatoes, and when these failed, they land, wrote Swift to Sheridan, who were at the mercy of fortune. Frequently j would allow a potato and buttermilk to a the pot of the wretched cottier contained reputed Tory. But this was not all. nothing but the product of the marsh and The principal landowners resided in En- the waste-ground. The flesh of a horse gland, leaving as their lieutenants a class which had died in harness, the flesh of of men known in Irish history as middle- sylvan vermin, even when corruption had men. I~ may be doubted whether since DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. the days of the Roman ~ub/icani oppres- sion and rapacity had ever assumed a shape so odious as they assumed in these men. The middleman was, as a rule, en- tirely destitute of education; his tastes were low, his habits debauched and reck. lessly extravagant. Long familiarity with such scenes as we have described had rendered him not merely indifferent to human suffering, but ruthless and brutal. All the tenancies held under him were at rack-rent, and with the extraction of that rent, or what was, in kind, equivalent to that rent, began and ended his relations with his tenants. As many of those ten- ants were little better than impecunious serfs, often insolvent and always in ar- rears, it was only by keeping a: wary eye on their movements, and by pouncing with seasonable avidity on anything of which they might happen to become l)os- sessed, either by the labor of their hands, or by some accident of fortune, that he could turn them to account. Sometimes the produce of the potato-plot became his prey, sometimes their agricultural tools; not unfrequently he would seize every- thing which belonged to them, and driving them with their wives and children, often under circumstances of revolting cruelty, out of their cabins, send them to perish of cold and hunger in the open country. Nor were the Irish provincial gentry in any way superior to the middlemen. Swift, indeed, regarded them with still greater detestation. As public men, they were chiefly remarkable for their savage op- pression of the clergy, for the merciless- ness with which they exacted their rack- rents from the tenantry, and for the mean ingenuity with which they contrived to make capital out of the miseries of their country. In private life they were disso- lute, litigious, and arrogant, and their vices would comprehend some of the worst vices incident to maninhuman cruelty, tyranny in its most repulsive as- pects, brutal appetites forcibly gratified, or gratified under circumstances scarcely less atrocious, and an ostentatious law- lessness which revelled unchecked either by civil authority or by religion. But whatever degree of culpability may attach itself to the inhabitants of Ireland, there can be no question that the English government were in the main responsible for the existence of this pandemonium. It requires very little sagacity to see that the miseries of Ireland flowed naturally and inevitably from the paralysis of na- tional industry, from the alienation of the national revenue, from the complete dis location of the machinery of government, and from the almost total absence, so far at least as the masses were concerned, of the ameliorating influences of culture and religion. We have already alluded to the statutes which annihilated the trade and prostrated the industrial energy of the country. Equally iniquitous and oppres- sive was the alienation of the revenue. On that revenue had been quartered the parasites and mistresses of succeeding generations of English kings. Almost all the most remunerative public posts were sinecures in the possession of men who resided in England. Indeed, some of these sinecurists had never set foot on Irish earth But nothing was more de- rogato ry to England than the scandalous condition of the Protestant hierarchy. On that body depended not only the spiritual welfare, but the education of the multi- tude; and their responsibility was the greater in consequence of the inhibitions which had been laid by the legislature on the Catholic priesthood. But the Protes- tant clergy were, as a class, a scandal to Christendom. Many of the bishops would have disgraced the hierarchy of Henry III. Their ignorance, their apathy, their nepotism, their sensuality, passed into proverbs. It was not uncommon for them to abandon even the semblance of their sacred character, and to live the life of jo- vial country squires, their palaces ringing with revelry, their dioceses mere anarchy. If their sees were not to their taste, they resided elsewhere. The Bishop of Down, for example, settled. at Hammersmith, where he lived for twenty years without having once during the whole of that time set foot in his diocese. That there were a few noble exceptions must in justice be admitted. No Churchman could pro- nounce the names of Berkeley, King, and Synge, without reverence. But the vir- tues of these illustrious prelates had little influence either on their degenerate peers or on the inferior clergy. Of this body it would not be too much to say that no sec- tion of the demoralized society, of which they formed a part, was more demoralized or so completely despicable. Here and there indeed might be found a priest who resided among his parishioners, and who performed conscientiously the duties of his profession. Such a priest was Skel- ton, and such a priest was Jackson, but Skelton and Jackson were to the general body of the minor clergy what Dr. Prim- rose was to Trulliber, or what the parson in the Canterbury Tales is to the par- son in Peregrine Pickle. DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. 7 Few men could have contemplated un- pronounced to be seditious, factious, moved the spectacle of a country in such and virulent, and the attention of Whit- a condition as this. Its effect on Swift shed, then chief justice of Ireland, was was to excite emotions which in ordinary directed to it. Whitshed, who had little men are seldom excited save by personal sympathy with Irish agitation, and who injuries. It fevered his blood, it broke may possibly have been acting on instruc- his rest, it drove him at times half-frantic tions from England, proceeded at once to with furious indignation, it sunk him at extreme measures. The pamphlet was times in abysses of sullen despondency. laid before the grand jury of the county He brooded over it in solitude; it is his and the city. The printer was arrested. constant theme in his correspondence; it The trial came on, and a disgraceful scene was his constant topic in conversation, ensued. The jury acquitted the prisoner. He spoke of it as eating his flesh and ex- The chief justice refused to accept the hausting his spirits. For a while he cher- verdict, and the jury were sent back to ished the hope that these evils, vast and reconsider their decision. Again they complicated though they were, were not found the man not guilty, and again Whit- beyond remedy. And this remedy, he shed declined to record the verdict. Nine thought, lay not in appealing to the jus. times was this odious farce repeated, until tice and humanity of the English govern. the wretched men, worn out by physical ment, but in appealing to the Irish them- fatigue, left the case by special verdict in selves, to the landed gentry, to the mid- the hands of the judge. But Whitsheds dlemen, to the manufacturers, to the iniquitous triumph was merely nominal, clergy. Throughout, his object was two- for his conduct had excited such disgust, foldthe internal reformation of the that it was deemed advisable to put off kingdom, and the establishment of the the trial of the verdict. Successive post- principle, that Ireland ought either to be ponements terminated at last in the lord autonomous, or on a footing of exact po- lieutenant granting a nolleprosequl. Such litical equality with the mother country. a concession to popular feeling the En- His first pamphlet, the Proposal for glish government had never before made. the Universal Use of Irish Manufac- It was a victory on which the Irish justly tures, is a masterpiece. Addressed, in congratulated themselves. It was a vic- what it insinuates, to the passions, and in tory destined, indeed, to form a new era what it directly asserts, to the reason, it in their history. is at once an inflammatory harangue and Nothing we know of Swift illustrates a manual of sober counsel. In a fe~v more strikingly his tact and sagacity as a plain paragraphs the secret of Irelands political leader than his conduct at this wretchedness is laid bare; how far it is in juncture. A less skilful strategist ~vould, her power to alleviate that wretchedness in the elation of triumph, have been im- is demonstrated, and the step which ought patient for new triumphs, would have lost immediately to be taken is pointed out. no tune in pressing eagerly forward, and In the proposal that she should close her would thus have forced on a crisis when a markets against English goods, and draw crisis was premature. But Swift saw that entirely on her own manufactures, there affairs were at that stage when the wisest was nothing treasonable, or even disre- course is to leave them to ourselves. The spectful, to England. It was no more fire had been kindled it night be safely than she had a l)erfect right to do; it was trusted to spread; the leaven of dissatis- no more than the English government faction and resistance ~vas seething it would probably have permitted her to was best to leave it to ferment. Up to a do. But the pamphlet had another side. certain point the course of revolution is Though there is not perhaps a sentence determined by human agency, but in all in it which could, so far as the mere revolutions there is a point at which hu- words are concerned, have been chal- man agency is l)owerless, and the reins lenbed as either inflammatory or insult- are in the hands of fortune. At such ing, the whole piece is in effect a fierce crises occur those apparently insignificant and bitter commentary on the tyranny of accidents, the effects of which are so the mother country, and an appeal to Ire- strangely disproportionate to the charac- land to strike, if not for independence, at ter of the accidents themselves, and which least for indemnity. The pamphlet, thou~h are to political communities what the it appeared, as almost all Swifts pain- spark is to combustible explosives. Such phlets did appear, anonymously, instantly a crisis had not as yet arrived in the attracted attention. The English govern- strug~le between England and Ireland, inent became alarmed. The work was but for such a crisis and he saw it was LIVING AGE. VOL. XLIV. 2238 DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. maturing Swift deemed it expedient to wait. Meanwhile his pen was not idle. In 1720 there was a project for establishino- a National Bank in Dublin. The scheme ~vas regarded with favor by some of the leading citizens and by many of the petty tradesmen; and subscription-lists were opened. But Swift was too sound a finan- cier not to see that an institution emi- nently useful, and indeed necessary, in a prosperous community, can only end in fraud and mischief in a community where stock is incommensurate with credit. Ac- cordingly he ridiculed the scheme in three ludicrous pamphlets we doubt greatly the authenticity of the other two attrib- uted to him by Scottand his satire was so efficacious, that when in the ensuing session the proposal was discussed in Parliament, it was almost unanimously rejected. These pamphlets were succeeded a few months afterwards by a little piece, in which the extraordinary versatility of Swifts genius is very strikingly and very amusingly illustrated. The streets of Dublin had for several years been infested with gangs of marauders, whose depreda- tions and violence made them the terror of the citizens. A man who ventured out unarmed at night, carried, it was said, his life in his hands. Scarce a week passed without some gross outrage. At such a pitch, indeed, had their lawlessness and audacity arrived, that it had become per- ilous even in broad daylight to walk in any but the most frequented thorough- fares. Pre-eminent among these miscre- ants was one Ebenezer Elliston. The fellow had long succeeded in eluding the police, but had recently been captured and publicly executed. In itself, how- ever, the execution would probably have had very little effect, for the class to which Elliston belonged is, as a rule, either too sanguine or too obtuse to take warning from example. But on the very day of the execution appeared, in the form of a broadsheet, an announcement, which carried apprehension and dismay into the heart of the boldest malefactors in Dublin. This was The Last Speech and Dying Words of Ebenezer Elliston, published, as ~vas stated on the title-page, by his own desire, and for the public good. In it he not only solemnly ex- horted his brother bandits to amend their lives, and to avoid the fate which had most righteously overtaken himself and would in the end inevitably overtake them, but he informed them that, having resolved to atone in some measure for his own crimes against God and society, he had thought it his duty to do what in him lay to assist the government in suppress- ing the crimes of others. For that pur- pose, I have, he said, left ~vith an honest man the names of all my wicked brethren, the present places of their abode, with a short account of tile chief crimes they have committed. I have likewise set down the names of those we call our set- ters, of the wicked houses we frequent, and of those who receive and buy our stolen goods. He then goes o ntosay that the person with whom the paper had been deposited would, on hearing of tile arrest of any rogue whose name was men- tioned in it, place the document in the hands of the government. And of this, he adds, I hereby give my companions fair and public warning, and hope they will take it. As Elliston was known to be a man of education, and as the informa- tion displayed in the piece was such as it seemed scarcely possible that any one ~vho was not in the secrets of Ellistons fraternity could possess, the genuineness of the confession was never for a moment doubted. Its effect was, we are told, immediately apparent. Brigandism lost heart; many of the leading bandits quit- ted the city; and the dean ~vas enabled to boast that Dublin enjoyed, for a time at least, almost complete immunity from the most formidable of social pests. And now arrived, suddenly and unex- pectedly, that crisis in the struggle with England, which Swift had with judicious patience been so long awaiting. For some years there had been a great scar- city of copper money, and the deficiency had, as a natural consequence, led to the circulation of debased and counterfeit coins on a very large scale Accordingly, in the spring of 1722, a memorial was pre- sented to the lords of the treasury, stating the grievance and petitioning for a rem- edy. The petition was considered, and the memorialists were informed that measures would be immediately taken for remedying the evil. Such courteous alac- rity had not been usual with the English government in dealing with Irish griev- ances, and excited, not unnaturally, some surprise. But it was soon explained. In a few weeks intelligence reached Dublin that a patent had been granted to a per- son of the name of Wood, empowerin~ him to coin as his exclusive right ioSoool. worth of farthings and halfpence for cii- culation in Ireland. As less than a third- of that sum in halfpence and farthings DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. 9 would have sufficed, and more than suf- revenue, and destructive to the commerce ficed, for what was needed, the announce- of Ireland. Walpole had the good sense ment was received with astonishment. to see that these addresses could not with And astonishment soon passed into indig- safety be treated as the previous appeals nation. For it appeared on enquiry, that had been treated, and the two Houses the patent had been granted without con- were informed, in courteous and concilia- suiting the Irish Privy Council or any tory terms, that the matter would receive Irish official, nay, even without consulting his Majestys most careful consideration. the lord lieutenant, though he was then And the promise was kept. A committee residing in London. It appeared, on fur- of the Privy Council was specially con- ther inquiry, that the whole transaction vened. Their sittings extended over had been a disgraceful job, and that the many weeks, and it is, we think, abun- person to whom the patent had been con- dantly clear that they performed their ceded was a mere adventurer, whose sole duties with scrupulous conscientiousness. care was to make the grant sufficiently Walpole now hoped, and hoped not with- remunerative to indemnify himself for a out reason, that Ireland would be paci- heavy bribe which he had paid for ob- fled; or that, at the very worst, a compro- taming it, and to fill his own pockets. mise, which ~vould save the ministry from The inference was obvious. As the the humiliation of having to withdraw the profits of the man would be in proportion patent, could be arranged. But before the to the quality of copper coin turned out committee could arrive at any conclusion, by him, and in proportion to the inferiority an event had occurred which dashed all of the metal employed in the manufacture, these hopes to the ground. his first object would be the indefinite Up to this point Swift appears to have multiplication of his coinage, and his remained passive, though it is, we think, second object would be its debasement, highly probable that he had contributed In August, the commissioners of the rev- largely to the pasquinade and broadsheet enue addressed a letter to the secretary literature which had never ceased since of the lord lieutenant, respectfully appeal- the announcement of Woods patent to ing against the patent. This was suc- pour ~forth each week from the public ceeded by a second letter, directed to the press. He ~vas well aware that of all the lords commissioners of the treasury, in- expedi~nts ~vhich can be devised for keep- forming them that the money was not ing up popular irritation, and for impress- needed. But to these letters no attention ing on the will of many the will of one, was paid. Meanwhile the mint of Wood these trifles are the most efficacious. was hard at work. Several cargoes of the They had served his turn before, and coin had already been imported and were nothing is less likely than that lie neg- in circulation at the ports. Each week lected them now, It is certain that after brought with it a fresh influx. The the publication of the first Drapier Let- tradespeople, well aware of the prejudice ter he was a voluminous contributor to against the coins, were in the greatest what he has himself designated as Grub perplexity. If they accepted them, they Street literature. However that may be, accepted what might very possibly turn he commenced in the summer of 1724 that to dross in their hands; if they refused famous series of letters which, if they are them, they must either lose custom, or re- to be estimated by the effect they l)ro- ceive payment in a coinage no longer cur- duced, must be allowed the first place in rent. political literature. The opening letter In August, 1723, the lord lieutenant is a model of the art which lies in the con- arrived, and a few weeks afterwards Par- cealment of art. We have not the small- liament met. The greatest excitement est doubt that Swift designed from the prevailed in both Houses. Opinions very beginning to proceed from the dis- were divided; but it was resolved at last comfiture of XVood to the resuscitation of to appeal against the patent. On the Ireland, and on in regular progression to 23rd of September, an address to the king the vindication of Irish independence. was voted by the Commons. The lords But of this there is no indication in the followed with a similar address on the first letter. It is simply an appeal pur- 28th. It was asserted that Wood had porting to emanate from one M. B., a been guilty of fraud and deceit; that he draper, or, as Swift chooses to spell it, had infringed the terms of the patent, drapier, of Dublin, to the lower and mid- both in the quantity and in the quality of die classes, calling on them to have noth- the coin, and that the circulation of his ing to do with the farthings and halfpence coinage would be highly prejudicial to the of Wood. In a style pitched studiously 20 DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. in the lowest key, and with the reasoning that comes home to the dullest and most illiterate of the vulgar, the Drapier points out to his countrymen that the value of money is determined by its intrinsic value; that the intrinsic value of Woods coins was at least six parts in seven be. low sterling; and that the man who was fool enough to accept payment in them, must to a certainty lose more than ten- pence in every shilling. If, he said, you accept the money, the kingdom is undone, and every poor man in it is un- done. On the monstrous exaggerations and palpable sophistry by which these as- sertions were supported, it would be mere waste of words to comment. The object which Swift sought to attain, was an ob- ject the legitimacy of which admits of no question, and if he sought its attainment by the only means which fortune had placed at his disposal, who can blame him? It will not be disputed that the concession of the patent had been a scan- dalous job; that in conferring it without consulting the Irish government, England had been guilty of grossly insulting the subjects of that government; that the profits which Wood anticipated were such as could be scarcely compatible with a strict adherence to the terms of his con- tract; and that, as a matter of fact, some of his coins were, in spite of the risk in- curred by detection, found on examina- tion to be below the stipulated value. The publication of the letter was as well-timed as the skill with which it was written was consummate. It appeared at a moment when the social and political atmosphere was in the highest possible state of inflammability, and ready at any moment to burst into flame. It was the spark which i~nited it, and the explosion was terrific. From Cork to Londonderry, from Galway to Dublin, Ireland was in a blaze. The feuds, which had for years been raging between party and party, be- tween sect and sect, between caste and caste, were suspended, and the ~vhole country responded as one man to the ap- peal of the Drapier. For the first time in Irish history the Cdt and the Saxon had a common bond. For once the Whig joined hand with the Tory. For once the same sentiment animated the Episcopa- lian and the Papist, the Presbyterian and the New Lighter, the Hanoverian and the Jacobite. On the 4th of August appeared a second letter from the Drapier. In substance it is like the first, partly a phil- ippic and partly an appeal, but it is a philippic infinitely more savage and scath ing, it is an appeal in a higher and more passionate strain. This letter was ad- dressed to Harding, the printer, in conse- quence of a paragraph which had three days before appeared in his newspaper. The paragraph was to the effect that the I~rivy Council, whose decision had not as yet been officially announced, had in their rel)ort recommended a compromise. The report of Sir Isaac Newton, who as mas- ter of the mint had been instructed to test the coin, had, it was stated, been favor- able to Wood. Wood, therefore, was to retain the right of mintage, but, in defer- ence to public feeling in Ireland, the amount of the sum to be coined by him was to be reduced from a hundred and eight thousand pounds to forty thousand. The justice and reasonableness of this proposal, a proposal which had emanated from Wood himself, must have been as obvious then as it is obvious now. But Swift saw at once that if the compromise were accepted, the victory, though nomi- nally on the side of Ireland, would in real- ity be on the side of England. In essence England had conceded nothing. Wood still retained his obnoxious prerogative England still assumed the right of confer- ring that prerogative. A particular evil had been lightened, but the greater evil, the evil principle, remained. But this was not all. We have already expressed our conviction that it was Swifts design from the very beginning to make the con- troversy with XVood the basis of far more extensive operations. It had furnished him with the means of ~vaking Ireland from long lethargy into fiery life. He looked to it to furnish him with the means of elevating her from servitude to inde- pendence, from ignominy to honor. His only fear was lest the spirit which he had kindled should burn itself out, or be pre- maturely quenched. And of this he must have felt that there ~vas some danger, ~vhen it was announced that England had given way much more than it was ex- pected she would give way, and much more than she had ever given way before. In his second letter, therefore, written to prepare his readers for the official an- nouncement of the report, he treats the proffered compromise with indignant dis- dain, and, with a skill which would have done honor to Demosthenes, tears the whole case of his opponents into shreds before they had had the opportunity of unfolding it. A few days afterwards the report ar- rived, and a third letter, with the now famous signature attached to it, followed DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. 2r almost immediately. It was addressed to the nobility and gentry, as its predeces- sors had been addressed to the lower and middle classes. In effect it repeats, but repeats more emphatically and at greater length, what he had commented on in the second letter; the mendacity and impu- dence of Wood, and of the witnesses who had in the inquiry before the Privy Coun- cil borne testimony in Woods favor; the cruelty and illegality of the patent; the scandalous circumstances under which the patent had been obtained; the still more scandalous circumstances under which it had been executed; the intrinsic worth- lessness of the coins; the tyranny and injustice of the mother country. But the matter which forms the staple of the let- ter is not the matter which gives the letter its distinctive character. It is here that we catch for the first time unmistak- able blimpses of Swifts ultimate design. The words of the fourteenth paragraph could have left the English government in little doubt of the turn which the con- troversy was about to take. Were not the people of Ireland, asks the Drapier born as free as those of England? How have they perfected their freedom? Are not they subjects of the same king? Am I a freeman in England, and do I become a slave in six hours by crossing the Chan- nel? In another passage he adverts to some of the l)rincipal political grievances of the kingdom, sarcastically remarking that a people whose loyalty had been proof against so many attempts to shake it was surely entitled to as much consid- eration on the part of the crown, as a people whose loyalty had not always been above suspicion. The remark was as pointed as it was just. The events of 1715 and 1722 had left a deep stain on the loyalty of England, but Ireland had never wavered in her fidelity to the house of Hanover. But it was not simply in the character of the Drapier that Swift ~vas scattering his firebrands. In every form which po- litical literature can assume, from ribald songs roared out to thieves and harridans over their satires and disquisitions which infected with the popular madness the common room of Trinity and the drawing- rooms of College Green and Grafton Street, he sought to fan tumult into rebellion. He even brought the mat- ter into the pulpit. In a sermon, which Burke afterwards described as contain- ing the best motives to patriotism which were ever delivered in so small a com- pass, the dean called on his brethren to remember that next to their duty to their Creator caine their duty to them- selves and to their fellow-citizens, and that, as duty and religion bound them to resist what ~vas evil and mischievous, so duty and religion bound them to be as one man a Wood and Woods up- holders. Meanwhile meetings were held; clubs were formed, petitions and addresses came pouring in. The grand jury and the in- habitants of the Liberty of St. Patricks drew up a resolution formally announcing that they would neither receive nor tender payment in Woods coins. The butchers passed a resolution to the same effect; the brewers followed; and at last the very newsboys, or, as they were then called, the flying stationers, issued a manifesto against the coins. Nor was it in the cap- ital only that these bold proceedings were taking place. In many of the provincial towns similar resolutions were passed, and the excitement in Cork and Water- ford was such as seriously to menace the existence of the government. It was now apparent even to Walpole that some decisive step must be taken. The Duke of Grafton, whose fretful and choleric temper, and whose haughty and unconciliating manners, rendered him peculiarly ill-fitted for his position, was recalled, and the minister appointed to succeed him was Carteret. The appoint. ment justly excited great surprise. Wal- pole and Carteret had long been at open enmity. During several sessions it had been Carterets chief object to perplex and annoy his rival; and he was sus- pected, and suspected with reason, of having fomented the disturbances which he was now being sent out to quell. With the lord chancellor Midleton, and with the lord chancellors relatives the Brod- ricks, he had certainly been in friendly communication; and of all the opponents of the patent, Midleton and the Brodricks had, next to Swift, been the most pertina- cious. Coxe tells us that it was Carteret who informed Alan Brodrick of the se- cret arrangement between Wood and the Duchess of Kendal with regard to the profits of the patent, a scandal which the malcontents had turned to great account. Thus in a private capacity he had been in league with those whom in his official capacity he was bound to regard as oppo- nents. In this singular position Carteret landed in Ireland at the latter end of October, w-ith general instructions and with ample powers. He was to soothe or coerce, to DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. 2Z yield or resist, as the exigencies of the eminent. He then burst out into a tor- crisis demanded. If on inquiry it should rent of invectives against the proclama- seem expedient to suspend the patent, tion, the arrest of Harding, and the pro- the patent was to be suspended; if he tection given to the patent. To a man in thought it desirable to go further and Carterets position such a scene must withdraw it altogether, it was to be with- have been sufficiently embarrassing. But drawn. But he had scarcely time to take he was too accomplished a diplomatist to betray either surprise or anger. He lis- tened with great composure and urbanity to all Swift had to say, and then with a bow and a smile gave him his answer in an exquisitely felicitous quotation from Virgil, Res dura et regni novitas me talia cogunt Moliri. the oaths before new and alarming com- plications arose. On the 23rd of October appeared the fourth D rapier Letter. In this discourse Swift threw off all disguise. The question of the patent is here subor- dinated to the far more important ques- tion of the nature of the relations between Ireland and England. Contemptuously dismissing a recent protest of Wood as the last howl of a dog who had been dis- sected alive, he goes on to assert that the royal prero~ ative, the power on which, during the whole struggle ~vith Wood, so much stress had been laid, was as limited in Ireland as it was in the mother country. He comments bitterly on the so-called dependency of Ireland; on the injustice of legislating for her in a Parliament in which she had no representatives; and on the fact that all places of trust and emolu- ment were filled by Englishmen, instead of being filled, as they ought to have been filled, by natives. But the remedy, he said, was in their own hands; and in two sentences, which vibrated through the whole kingdom, he suggested it: By the laws of God, of nature, of nations, and of your country, you are and ought to be as free a people as your brethren in En- gland. Again: All governmentwithout the consent of the governed is the very definition of slavery, though, he added, with bitter sarcasm, eleven men well armed will certainly subdue one sin- gle man in his shirt. It was impossible for the lord lieutenant to allow this to pass. A proclamation was issued describ- ing the letter as wicked and malicious, and offering a reward of three hundred pounds to any one who would discover the author. I-larding, the printer of it, was arrested and thrown into prison. Up to this point Swift had, as an indi- vidual, kept studiously in the background. He now came prominently forward. On the day succeeding the proclamation he presented himself at the levee of the lord lieutenant, and, forcing his way into the presence of Carteret, sternly upbraided him with what he had done. Your Ex- cellency has, he thundered out with a voice and manner which struck the whole assembly dumb with amazement, given us a noble specimen of what this devoted nation has to hope for from your gov So terminated this strange interview. And now the struggle with England reached its climax; the bill against Hard- ing was about to be presented to the grand jury. On its rejection hung the hopes of the patriots; on its acceptation hung the hopes of the government. In an admirable address, Swift calmly and solemnly explained to his fellow-citizens the momentous issues which some of them would shortly be called upon to try. The important day arrived. What followed was what every one anticipated would fol- low: the bill was thrown out. But the chief justice Whitshed, acting as he had acted on a former occasion, concluded a scene which would have disgraced Scroggs, by dissolving the jury. This insane measure served only to swell the triumph of the patriots. Another jury was immediately summoned. The bill against Harding was again ignored, and, to complete the discomfiture of the gov- ernment, the rejection of the bill was coupled with a formal vindication of the Drapier. From this moment the battle was virtually, won ; the Drapier had tri- umphed, and Swift ruled Ireland. But nine troubled months had yet to pass be- fore victory definitely declared itself. The struggle between pride and expediency was a severe one. At last England yield- ed. I have his Majestys commands to acquaint you that an entire end is put to the patent formerly granted to Mr. Wood, were the words in which, at the commence- ment of the autumn session of 1725, the viceroy announced to Ireland that the greatest victory she had ever won had been gained. The public joy knew no bounds. In a few hours Dublin presented the appear- ance of a vast jubilee. In a few days there ~vas scarcelya town or avillage in Ireland which was not beside itself with exulta- tion. The whole island rang with the DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. 23 praises of the Drapier. It was the Dra- pier, they cried, who had saved them, it was the Drapier who had taught them to be patriots. Had Swift rescued the coun- try from some overwhelming calamity, had he done all and more than all that the ~IEdipus of story is fabled to have done for the city of Erechtheus, popular grati- tude could not have gone further. Med- als were struck in his honor. A club, the professed object of which ~vas to perpetu- ate his fame, was formed. His portrait stamped on medallions, or woven on hand- kerchiefs, was the ornament most cher- ished by both sexes. When he appeared in the streets all heads were uncovered. If for the first time he visited a town, it was usual for the corporation to receive him with public honors. Each year as his birthday came round it was celebrated with tumultuous festivity. He became, says Orrery, the idol of the people of Ireland to a degree of devotion that in the most superstitious country scarcely any idol ever attained. Even now no true Irishman ever pronounces his name with- out reverence. But it was not as a political agitator only that Swift sought to attain his object. Nothing, he believed, contributed more to the degradation and wretchedness of the country than the state of the Church. As a Churchman his own convictions and principles had never wavered. From the very first he had attached himself to the High Church party; from the very first he had regarded the Low Church party, not merely with suspicion, but with in- tense dislike. Their latitudinarian opin- ions, the indulgence with which they were inclined to treat the Nonconformists, their close alliance with the Whigs, their readi- ness on every occasion to play into the hands of the Whigs, and to sacrifice the interests of the Church to the interests of a faction largely composed of men at open enmity with the Church all this he had long beheld with indignation and alarm. On arrivin in Ireland he found himself in the midst of this obnoxious party. For a while, however, he contented himself with standing aloof and remaining pas- sive. But between 1714 and 1720 it be- came clearly apparent that it was the intention of the Whig ministry in En- gland to make the Church of Ireland subservient to the English government. This was to be accomplished by the grad- ual elimination of all High Churchmen and of all natives from offices of trust and emolument. Regularly as each see or as each deanery fell vacant, it was conferred on some member of the Low Church party in England, selected not so much because he possessed any moral or intellectual qualification for the post, as because his patrons could depend on his obsequious compliance with their designs. Against this system of preferment, and against the whole body of those who thus obtained preferment, Swift waged incessant war. If they endeavored to aggrandize them- selves, if they essayed in any way to op- press the inferior clergy, or to extend the bounds of episcopal authority, he was in the arena in a mOment. Thus in 1723 he opposed an attempt to enlarge the power of the bishops in letting leases. Thus in 1733 hesucceeded in inducing the Lower House to throw out the Resi- dence Bill and the Division Bill. The hatred which Swift bore to the Whig hierarchy of Ireland is perfectly explica- ble on political and ecclesiastical grounds, but we may perhaps suspect that feelings less creditable to him entered into its composition. The truth is, he could not forget that men, immeasurably his infe- riors in parts and character, had out- stripped him in the race of ambition. While he was thus defending the Church from enemies from within for such he considered these prelates he was equally indefatigable in defending her from enemies from without. It was owing to his efforts that the Modus Bill a bill which would, by commuting the tithe upon hemp and flax for a fixed sum, have bene- fited the laity at the expense of the clergy was defeated. It was an attempt on the partof the Commons and the landlords to rob the Church of the tithe of agistment that inspired the last and most furious of his Satires. But nothing excited his in- dignation more than the indulgence ex- tended to the Nonconformists. Of all the enemies of the Established Church they were, in his eyes, the most odious and the most formidable. It was no secret that the largest and most influential sect among them aimed at nothing less than the subversion of Episcopacy In num- bers these sectaries already equalled the Episcopalian Protestants; in activity and zeal they ~vere far superior to them. In- deed, Swift firmly believed that it was the Test Act, and the Test Act only, which stood between the Church and its de- strovers. But the Whigs argued that the danger came not from the Nonconformists but from the Papists. The struggle, they said, lay not between Protestantism and Protestantism, but bet~veen Protestantism and Roman Catholicism; and the exten 24 DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. sion of indulgences to the sectaries would, any gratification, either from his recent they thought, have the effect of uniting triumph or from the discharge of duty, he the Protestants, without distinction of continued to be, what in truth he had long sect, against the common enemy. To heen, the most wretched, the most dis- this Swift replied that there was little to contented, the most solitary of men. The fear from the Papists. The Papists had very name of the country for which he been reduced to unimportance and impo- had done so much was odious to him. He tence by the penal la~vs; they were as scarcely ever alluded either to the En- inconsiderable in point of power as the glish or to the native Irish, but with some women and children. Popery was no epithet indicative of loathing and con- doubt a more portentous monster than tempt. In the English rule he saw the Presbyterianism, as a lion is stronger and embodiment of all that is most detestable larger than a cat; but, he adds in one of in power; in the condition of his compa- those happy and witty illustrations with triots, the embodiment of all that is most which his pamphlets abound, if a man despicable in submission. I am sit- were to have his choice, either a lion at ting, he writes in one of his letters, like his foot bound fast with three or four a toad in the corner of my great house, chains, his teeth drawn and his claws with a perfect hatred of all public actions pared to the quick, or an angry cat in and persons. Though his active benevo- full liberty at his throat, he vould take lence never slumbered, and though he no long time to determine. For this still felt, he says, affection for particular reason he not only opposed all attempts individuals, his feelings towards humanity to repeal the Test Act, but all attempts to in general were those of a man in whom relax its stringency. And the pamphlets misanthropy was beQnning to border on and verses produced by him in the course monomania. He also complains of his of this long controversy are among the broken health, of his sleepless nights, of ablest andmost entertaining of his minor his solitude in the midst of acquaintances, writings, of his enforced residence in a country Not less strenuous were his attempts which he abhorred, of his banishment to awaken in the Church itself the spirit from those in whose society he had found of resistance and reform. Among the the burden of existence less intolerable. bishops there was a small minority by no For some time his old friends had been means favorably disposed towards the importuning him to pay a visit to En- policy of England. The Toleration Bill gland. Though Atterbury was in exile, of 1719 had alarmed them. The obvious and death had removed Oxford, Parnell, intention of the English government to and Prior, the Scriblerus Club could still degrade the Irish Church into a mere in- muster a goodly company. Bolingbroke, strument of political dominion had dis- after many vicissitudes, was again on En- gusted them. With this section, at the glish soil. Pope, who had achieved a head of which was King, Archbishop of reputation second to no poet in Europe, Dublin, Swift coalesced, and out of this had settled at Twickenham, and was grad- section he labored to construct a party ually gathering round him that splenWd which should combat the Nonconformists society on which his genius has shed ad- on the one hand, and the Hanoverian ditional lustre. Arbuthnot, hierarchy on the other; which should social, cheerful, and serene, protest against the systematic exclusion And just as rich as when he served a queen, of the Irish clergy from remunerative preferment, which should inaugurate a had lost nothing of the wit, the humor, the national Church. Meanwhile he ~vas wisdom, the humanity, which had sixteen doing all in his power to raise the charac- years before won the hearts of all who ter and improve the condition of the in- knew him. And not less importunate were ferior clergy. He was a friend, an those many other friends in whose man- adviser, an advocate, on whom they could sions he had been a welcome guest when always depend. He defended them he sat each week among the brethren. But against the bishops; he fought for them it was long before he could make up his against the landlords. Many of them mind to cross the Channel, and it ~vas not owed what preferment they possessed to till the spring of 1726 that he found him- his generous importunity. self once more in London. It is melancholy to turn from Swifts During this visit occurred two memo- public to his private life. XVe open his rable events: the interview ~vith Walpole, correspondence and we find abundant and the publication of Gullivers Tray- proof that, so far from having derived els. No incident in Swifts biography DEAN SWIFT IN IRELAND. has been so grossly misrepresented as his connection with Walpole. It was whispered at the time that he had sold himself to the court, and that the price of his apostasy was to be high ecclesiastical preferment. It ~vas subsequently re- ported that he had merely offered to turn renegade; for that Walpole, having dis- covered from an intercepted letter that he was playing a double part, declined to have any dealings with him.* Chester- field confidently asserted that Swift had offered his services to the ministry. Now the facts of the case are simply these. Shortly after the deans arrival in London, Walpole, who was probably acquainted with him, and who was certainly ac- quaintecl with many of his friends, invited him with other guests to a dinner party at Chelsea. It chanced that not long before a libel had appeared, in which the charac- ter of the first minister had been very severely handled. And that libel Walpole had attributed, but attributed erroneously, to Gay. Poor Gay had in consequence not only made an enemy of Walpole, but what was still more serious, had lost caste at Leicester House. It was therefore with an allusion to Gays misadventure that Swift took occasion to observe at Walpoles table, that ~vhen great minis- ters heard an ill thing of a private person who expected some favor, although they were afterwards convinced that the per- son ~vas innocent, yet they would never be reconciled. The words were ambigu- ous, though Wal pole ~vas probably ~vell aware that when Swift uttered them, he was referring not to himself but to Gay. He affected, however, to believe that Swift was referring to himself, and was mean enough to circulate a report that th~ dean had been apologizin,,; in other words, had been currying favor with him. It is just possible, of course, that Wal- pole may for the moment have misinter- preted Swifts meaning. If he did so, he was soon undeceived. At the end of April, Swift had a second interview. It had been granted a